Hey guys! Sorry for the long delay. I take forever to write, and only really write on my hour journeys home from school everyday. Hope you guys enjoy chapter 2, and once again I love feedback, so do feel free to comment on the story so far, seeing people talk about the story really brightens up my day :)
Special thanks to Daryk, probably the best proofreader in existence. My work wouldn’t be half as good as it is without his help
Chapter 2
Alpheratz
Outworlds Alliance
The Periphery
3rd January 3041
Kurian’s Bruisers?!? Is this supposed to be some sort of half-baked joke? Artemis ‘Maul’ Kurian’s eyes darted towards Anders, her new found partner in a newly-formed mercenary unit. The mercenary unit name he had just given to their unit’s first client was a clear joke about the way they met yesterday; her fist to his face. Anders wore a confident smile, his hands in his cargo pockets, while his weight mostly rested on his right leg. She saw not a hint of smugness anywhere on him.
Protesting over the name would surely display discord in their unit before their client’s eyes, and would no doubt work to her disadvantage somehow. She swiftly swept her anger under an imaginary rug, and bit her lips. She turned to face Minister Gordon, their client, and offered a quick smile and a nod.
“Kurian’s Bruisers. Right. I shall inform the Deep Worlds’ Collective Central Command of your acceptance of the contract as soon as I get back. The details of your first assignment are with your partner. I hope to hear about your success in the Deep Worlds soon.” Minister Gordon politely nodded to Anders, before turning on his heel and making his way out of the dreadfully hot mech bay, his black leather dress shoes clacking against the ferro-concrete floor of the mech bay, a sound that shortly found itself drowned out by the dull background noises of techs at work.
As soon as the minister was out of earshot, Artemis’ polite smile evaporated. Her head snapped around and gave Anders a drop-dead glare. “Kurian’s Bruisers? Seriously?” She hissed, her sharp tone piercing through the mech bay’s noise like a vibroblade through butter. Anders’ eyes widened, his confident demeanor broken for a split-second, before snapping back.
“Oh sorry, I forgot to ask what your unit’s previous name was.”
“Hell’s Juggernauts. Maybe you should have let me answer that question, don’t you think?” She leaned forward and cocked her head ever so slightly, her eyes narrowing on him.
“Oh it’s fine. Kurian’s Bruisers is a much better name at any rate. No worries.” Anders’ muscles relaxed, his lips forming another one of his usual carefree everything’s-fine smiles.
Artemis felt just about ready to beat him up once again. She stepped forward, her right hand jabbing forward and grabbing him by the collar, yanking him toward her a few centimetres. Her piercing hazel brown eyes scowled at him menacingly, demanding his full attention. “Listen here, and listen good. You’d better work with me properly, or I’ll make sure I beat you up properly the next time we tango. Clear?”
Anders nodded slowly. His eyes had widened ever so slightly, his smile completely torn off his face, with not a trace of it left. Satisfied, Artemis released him, his upper torso leaning back into an upright position as the force from Artemis’ hand disappeared. He now donned a more serious, respectful look as he straightened up his olive V-neck shirt. His tongue ran over his teeth within his mouth, a slight bulge from his tongue sticking out from his right cheek. His eyes consciously avoided eye contact with her, instead fixing themselves onto the floor behind her. She would have retired from the mech bay to avoid more awkward feelings, but there was still work to do.
A leader doesn’t lead with intimidation. Didn’t your superiors teach you this, Kurian-chan? Her father’s aged voice echoed annoyingly in her head.
Shut up, Kurian-otousan.
You know he’s right. Her conscience chimed in. It always knew exactly when to be a nuisance to her. She rolled her eyes, before turning her focus back to the matter at hand: Anders.
“What’s the information on the planet we’re being assigned to?” Her hands slid down to rest on her hips, her gaze following his downcast eyes.
“We’re actually going to garrison a total of 4 systems. The Deep Worlds Collective only employs a small number of mercenary units, moving them and their mechs around to deploy as reinforcements whenever any of their planets are raided or invaded. With the exception of their capital, their planets usually rely on local militia to handle threats until reinforcements arrive.” Anders’ eyes darted from side to side occasionally, and it seemed he was actively avoiding her eyes. She decided she would rather have him nervous around her than totally undisciplined, though.
Mistakes are a test to our ability to apologise. Her father’s voice seeped back into her consciousness once again, sending a shiver rolling down her spine.
Shut it.
“What’s their militia like? Do we have any other mercenary units to back us up?” Artemis’ eyebrows twitched at random intervals, her body language relaxed, save for her eyes that studied Anders’ every move intently.
“As far as I’m aware, they have a few Manticores, Goblins, and a lot of Strikers and Bulldogs. If attackers are packing 'mechs, the battles are normally fights to buy time. Whenever an attack comes around, the JumpShip stationed in their system will immediately jump to a system with the stationed garrison. The garrison is informed, and the relief force takes off in their DropShips, jump with their system’s stationed Jumpship to the attacked system. It’s barely acceptable, but it’s possibly the best a Deep Periphery state can do with only a few mech units.” Anders continued his quest to avoid eye contact, his gaze drifting and wandering around the floor.
Artemis raised an eyebrow. “Each system has a Jumpship?”
“Yeah, it’s the only thing the most worlds around here have in abundance. I’m guessing they found an abandoned Jumpship construction platform or cache or something some time back.”
“This is going to be a tough contract, especially with what we have at the moment.”
Anders finally looked up, his eyes meeting hers. “You sure you can pilot that Wolverine properly?”
Artemis narrows her eyes. “You just make sure you watch my back. You do that, and I’ll make sure I work my magic.”
Anders chuckled. Seems like he’s finally grown his balls back. He stretched out his right hand for a handshake. “You work your magic, and Kurian’s Bruisers will be in business.” Artemis rolled her eyes at the use of the new mercenary unit’s name, but stretched out her own right hand. The two shook hands, their minds in accord with one another for once. Artemis departed from the mech bay afterwards, while Anders continued to linger.
<^>
The next few days flew by, with Kurian’s Bruisers mostly settling logistical matters. The mercenary unit had to transport all assets of the now extinct Hell’s Juggernauts over to Anders’ Dropship. They lifted off a few days after the unit had finished packing up, with the Leopard class Irish Dreams leaving the surface of Alpheratz IV to make for the Jumpship awaiting them at the Zenith point.
The Irish Dreams finally began to dock with the Invader class Germinator on day 15 of Kurian’s Bruisers existence.
Artemis, Roy and Anders floated in zero-G outside the bulkhead of the Irish Dreams’ docking port, the three in a bit of a triangle formation: Artemis positioned in the front, flanked by the other two. The door finally began to slide open, revealing the captain of the Jumpship, dressed smartly in a white uniform.
“Captain Benedict, at your service ma’am.” Benedict nodded with a smile and stretched out his right hand, a handshake that Artemis accepted.
“Artemis Kurian, former Lieutenant of the 9th Dieron Regulars.” Artemis offered a smile as she shook his hand. She did not like bringing up her former position in the DCMS, but boasting of her ‘proud’ achievements in her military service was almost obligatory thanks to tradition.
Benedict looked to the two men flanking Artemis, offering each a polite smile before turning back to Artemis. “I trust we have a heading, ma’am?”
“The Deep Worlds’ Collective, captain. Do you have the coordinates?” Artemis maintained eye contact with the captain. First impressions were always something she found stressful.
Captain Benedict’s pearly white teeth showed themselves for the fourth time, as his muscles relaxed a few notches at the mention of their destination. “Of course ma’am. To the Deep Worlds’ Collective we go.”
<^>
It took about two and a half weeks to leave Outworlds Alliance territory. Each jump took the Bruisers further and further from the Inner Sphere, and farther and farther into the unknown of the Deep Periphery.
The journey was dull and boring for Artemis, who never particularly liked space travel. Her Transit Disorientation Syndrome ensured most of her interstellar travels were miserable, each jump between solar systems leaving her horribly nauseated for a few hours.
She spent most days continuing to refresh her memory of 'mech schematics; information that was almost as important as food to her. Aside from that, her days went by with mundane idling around, with occasional short conversations with Bryan over non-family related topics of interest. Bryan as a mechtech always had useful and interesting insights to share, and was pleasant to speak with.
<^>
“Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to the Outworlds Verge.” Samson, captain of the Kurian’s Bruisers Dropship Irish Dreams, announced to those present in the bridge. Samson sat snugly in the bridge’s command chair, buckled firmly into his seat by an array of seat belts.
Artemis sat in a passenger seat behind the command chair, buckled in. Her gaze remained fixed on the warping space outside the viewport of the dropship, watching as the short-lived light show of hyperspace vanished as quickly as it came, revealing the view of a faraway star that marked the first solar system beyond the Outworlds Alliance. Her stomach almost immediately began rolling into loops of nausea. She gritted her teeth and held back the insistent urges to vomit. Oh how I love space travel.
The Outworlds Verge was simply the space rimward of the Outworlds Alliance, containing not only the Outworlds Wastes but the deep periphery beyond it, stretching far and wide, arguably until the Elysian Fields. The Outworlds Verge was littered with humanity and its marks; failed, struggling and stable colonies and empires appearing and disappearing under the hand of countless pirate organisations.
The Outworlds Verge’s main appeal lied in its abundance of resource-rich planets, a fact that remained elusive to the greedy but ignorant inhabitants of the Inner Sphere. Empires and colonies rose with the goal of reaping grand profits from harvesting the multitude of resources, usually only to be subjected to constant raids from bandits.
Rumour had it that the Oberon Confederation and Taurian Concordat had bases and units stationed in the Verge out of interest for the abundant resources available, but in a region of space that relied on Jumpship courier messages in the absence of a Comstar Hyperpulse Generator network, such information was difficult to collect and verify.
“Space sick much, Lieutenant?” Anders chuckled to himself. He was seated beside the attractive pretty face who beat him up just a few weeks prior, savouring the sight of watching her suffer.
“It’s Commander to you, Mechwarrior ****.” Artemis managed through the intense tsunami of mental disorientations that smashed into her head. I should have taken the pills. She quickly found herself regretting her decision to be on the bridge during this milestone achievement of entering their potential new home. Whoever thought up this idea was an idiot.
“It is at this juncture, Commander, that I would like to mention you are here on the bridge despite your TDS of your own accord.” Anders began grinning from ear to ear, enjoying every second of his valuable new-found gloating session.
“Ma’am, do you need any assistance?” Captain Samson spun his command chair around to face the two, his bright blue eyes looking to Artemis.
“Clearly I’m totally fine.” Artemis grunted stiffly, bending over her lap to rest her head horizontally between her legs, high ponytail flowing over the top of her head to float around in the zero-G environment. “Just enjoying the magic of space travel.”
<^>
Reaching the Outworlds Verge was only the first step of entering the Deep World Collective. The Germinator had several more jumps before reaching the border systems of the Deep Worlds' Collective.
Due to the lack of a Hyperpulse Generator Network, news of Kurian’s Bruisers joining the Collective’s mercenary forces had not reached most of the state’s systems, a fact that could quickly lead to misunderstandings with planetary security forces. Though this would pose no threat to the mercenary unit, it could definitely be incredibly inconvenient for both sides.
Thankfully, Minister Gordon seemed to have left much earlier and got the information dispersed rather swiftly, as the Germinator received zero apprehensive hails from systems they passed through. Most short day stays in Collective systems featured amicable enough communication with occupied planets, including transmission of appropriate coordinates for their assigned garrison world.
The Germinator’s relatively eventless interstellar trip ended though, when they reached the Ashon system, 2 jumps away from Heran, their designated garrison base system.
Artemis took Transit Disorientation Syndrome (TDS) countering sleeping pills during most jumps, so as to avoid the dreadful fits of disorientation she experienced every time she went through a jump. However, she found herself waking up from her medicine-induced deep sleep hours early, to hear incessant knocking against her quarters’ door.
Shaking off any residual sleep from her mind, she slipped off her bed and floated toward the door. Probably Anders. She swung the door open to reveal a clearly bored Anders hanging on to the wall beside her door. It’s him. What a surprise.
“You’re a minute late.” Anders said and narrowed his eyes on her. At that instant her mind conducted a quick mental check to make sure she was decently dressed. She was wearing a black t-shirt with brown cargo pants, her long jet black hair cascading freely in zero-g.
“What is it Anders.” Artemis rolled her eyes, opening the door all the way before withdrawing her right hand from it. Her hand slid up to her hip, her piercing hazel brown eyes staring him down.
A paramedic gave her a shot to help her wake up early, and left the room afterwards. The drugs took a few minutes to take effect, and Anders had been waiting for a whole minute extra for the commander to wake up.
“We received a call for help from the surface upon entering the system. It’s sitting in the bridge, waiting for your attention..” Anders pushed off from the wall to stand upright, and crossed his arms.
“I’ll be there in 5 minutes. Meet me there.” Artemis replied with a gentle nod of acknowledgement before closing the door. She quickly stripped off her clothes and tossed them toward her bed, before changing into loose olive fatigues and her black coat. She grabbed her handgun on her way out, checking its magazine before slipping it into her right coat pocket. A warrior is always prepared for war at a moment’s notice. One of her father’s many ‘essential’ teachings echoed in her mind as she strode through the corridors that led to the bridge, So you’d better be sure your preparations are not sloppy.
Not like bringing a handgun helps in a ship this far from a planet anyways…
Finally, she reached the closed hatch leading to the bridge. With a swipe of her hand over the console beside the door, the two heavy metal doors slid open to reveal the familiar view of the Irish Dreams’ bridge. “What’s the situation, captain?” She gently sailed through the weightless air into the centre of the bridge, where Captain Samson was seated in his command chair, his eyes glued to a datapad. Anders floated beside him, his neck craned over to read the datapad.
At the sound of her voice, the two turned to face her. Captain Samson gave a graceful nod, zero-G preventing him from rendering a proper bow. The respectful officer never failed to honour ethnic Japanese traditions she found herself hopelessly bound to.
“We have a situation. When we jumped into the system, we received a distress signal from the forces on Ashon III. Here, I’ll play it for you.” Samson pressed a button on the right armrest of his command chair. The bridge was immediately filled with a radio transmission.
“Come in, to any nearby spacecraft, we need immediate reinforcements. We’re under attack by pirate forces, and require relief as soon as possible. I repeat, we are under attack, and require assistance…” The recording faded out, leaving the room in silence. Artemis found herself stared at by every eyeball on the bridge, from Captain Samson and Anders to the other crew present.
She gave a gentle sigh, her hand sliding up to her hip, the other firmly clamped to prevent her from floating away. Her eyes looked to the deck, her mind racing as she mentally went through her options. To abandon a world under the protection of their employers would be dishonourable, akin to betraying them, but…
“We’re not being paid to protect some random other world.” Anders piped up, clearing up the silence, his feet braced so he could cross his arms in zero-G.
“Why wouldn’t they pay us? We were hired to protect them from pirates.” Artemis looked up, and squinted slightly at him.
“We’ve been assigned to 4 systems, and this ain’t one of 'em.” He replied, narrowing his own eyes.
“We’ve been hired to fight off pirates for them. Here are some pirates, and thus we must fight for them.”
“So we will fight for free?”
“We will fight because we will honour our contract. They’ll pay us or we’ll pay them hell.”
Artemis turned to address the rest of the bridge. Her eyes first rested on Captain Samson.
“Captain, I want us detached and on our way to Ashon III ASAP.”
Then to Roy. “Roy, get your troops ready to deploy. I want all elements squared away by the time we hit the ground.”
“I’ll prep the 'mechs.” Bryan nodded, speaking up before Artemis could address him. Artemis nodded back to him with a subtle smile tucked away in the corner of her mouth. Finally, she looked back to Anders. “I’m getting onto the battlefield with or without your help. So you either get your ass on the surface with me or watch your delusions of grandeur die with those pirate scum.”
Heaving another gentle sigh, she turned to make for the bridge’s doors. “Good luck to us all.”
