Call of Blood (Part Seven)
Al-Tinin IV
Al-Tinin System
Draconis Combine (Uncharted) Dumare stood at the foot of the stairs and looked up at the man who had emerged from the shadows, “Son?” he exclaimed, he studied the other man’s features and could see the faint resemblance in the wrinkled face, the high brow and prominent nose, intense eyes that seemed larger than normal, the presence of a strong, prominent jawline partially obscured by gray whiskers. Yes, there was a familial connection, to be sure, and this was the man who stood next to his mother in a collection of old image files. The man was tall, much like the younger mercenary, perhaps a couple of centimeters taller, and his shoulders somewhat broader. He wore a loose fitting set of field green coveralls, very similar to SLDF issue but without patches, insignia or rank designation.
The man slowly descended the stairs, his face impassive as Dumare could scarcely recall in his dim memories. “Thank you for returning my battlemech, my dear Lucienne, your mother, was not interested in the legacy of our family.”
“Mother told me that you were dead,” replied the mercenary, “why would she lie to me about you?”
The older man shook his head, “You, my son, have an ancient inheritance, which your mother had difficulty in accepting.” He stepped closer and placed a large hand on Dumare’s shoulder, “You were called here in your dreams, were you not?”
“My dreams?” asked Dumare, “how could you know about them?”
“Your ability to dream is part of your inheritance, my son,” the elder Dumare calmly answered, “through our dreams, we see the ancient past and distant future, all that is possible and that which shall be,” he continued, “our dreams show us the truth beyond illusions and allow us to call to each other beyond the measureless gulfs between the stars, and the immense vastness of time itself.”
The younger Dumare frowned, “Uh, I still don’t fully comprehend what you are trying to tell me,” he relaxed his stance and took his hand from the grip of his submachine gun, “are you saying that some kind of psychic ability runs in our family?”
The older man laughed, “Oh, no, my son! We are not carnival hucksters and tarot readers, not tricksters and cheap entertainers,” he shook his head, “we shall discuss the matter at length another time, this is your home of old and this is your home now, the building behind the house, that looks like an old barn is a fully appointed battlemech hangar with the bays for a lance, these are all yours, now.”
Early Evening Security Chief Henke shivered as he assisted with putting up one of the four tents under the brilliant lights projected by the land rover. His teeth chattered as the biting cold cut through his insulated clothing. He didn’t expect the temperature to drop so radically after dark, his mittens barely kept his fingers comfortably cold, let alone warm. Even worse, the wind had picked up and snow was falling. He was thankful that Acolyte Bond was a bit of a softy, who made sure everybody was relieved from working outside every few minutes to warm themselves in the first tent, where a heater was installed and hot coffee brewing.
About fifty meters away, through the blur of falling snow, he could barely make out the shapes of the megalith’s standing stones, gray in the darkness.
“Ready for a break?”
Henke nodded, “You bet,” he told his relief, “thanks!” He made a beeline for the break tent and slipped through the entantrance.
The light was dim but Henke could see three other people seated around the stove, sipping from mugs.
“Coffee?” one of the acolytes held the pot up, near the mug with his name written on it.
He pulled his mittens off, “Please, I’ll take it black,” he stripped off his jacket and immediately felt the warm air filling his lungs and caressing his limbs. “I can’t believe it’s gotten so cold.”
“We are further north and away from the river,” muttered one of them, “the flat terrain has no forestation to abate the winds, this area is outside of our range for accurate meteorological forecasts.”
Henke sighed and nodded, he pretended to understand, and sipped his coffee.
“I tell you, you have to watch the full cut scene to catch the hint of the next quest,” said Acolyte Jost, his voice with pedantic insistence. The two acolytes sat in the dining tent, sipping coffee.
Acolyte Przpezewski shook his head, “The hints are clear enough for me, just playing through the quest,” he responded, “and if I need further clarification, I can refer to the Wiki.”
“That means you missed the hint,” crowed Jost, “otherwise, you wouldn’t even need the Wiki.”
“I didn’t need the Wiki to complete the tavern keeper’s side quest.”
“You didn’t…” Jost covered his face with his hands, “those side quests are distractions,” he said, “the main quest is time-sensitive and the final award for completion is based on how fast you finish.”
“What?” Przpezewski jumped up from his chair, “I’ve been jumping on all of those side quests!”
A female acolyte approached the two, “Hey, Stanislaus, what are you guys talking about?”
Przpezewski stood up, “Hey, Katarina, me and Michael were just talking about our favorite trivid game.”
“You mean, the one with the ugly, green women?” She had an obvious look of distaste on her face.
Stanislaus stood up, “Hey!” he seemed wounded, “They aren’t ugly...and they aren’t women, either, they are beautiful, shapely Orcettes.”
Katarina put a palm to her forehead, “Seriously, I can’t believe that you are really my brother.”
Michael interceded, “It’s just a harmless game, Kat, it gives us something to do when we aren’t working.”
“Other than eating and sleeping, that seems to be the only thing you guys do, when you aren’t working,” Katarina shot back, “and a game where the players rack up points for having sex with muscular green females with fangs is hardly my idea of harmless.”
“That really isn’t fair,” reasoned her brother, “I mean, it’s not like we’re having sex with real women.”
Katarina could not resist, “No, I have serious doubts about that ever happening.” She smirked and turned to see Acolyte Vathos sitting at a table, her attention on her datapad display. “Hey, Dimitra.”
The doctor looked up at her friend and waved, “Hi, Kat, what’s going on?” she smiled as the acolyte sat across from her.
“The megalith away team complained about the lack of weather data,” Kat told her, “we only have what little information from the Hugin’s sensors on the ground.”
“Why is that your problem, you’re a data systems specialist, right?”
“According to our avionics technician, Acolyte Simkins, there are still several satellites in orbit but they are offline, due to corrupt programs,” replied Kat, “my guess the problem is more than just that, but Donald wants me to try giving the satnet a remote systems upgrade.”
Dimitra inclined her head, “So, do you think you can do it?”
Kat shrugged, “I’m going to try my best,” she sipped her tea, “I’ve done similar upgrades on remote arrays but they were hardwired, not transmitted, although there shouldn’t be much difference,” she saw her brother Stanislaw heading out the door with Michael, and returned his wave, “I’m worried that the problem may be due to hardware, not merely obsolete programming.”
“I’m sure you can do it,” Dimitra reassured her.
“Thanks,” said Kat, “at least I’m doing something worthwhile. Did you know Greenstein approached me to design a program to track everybody’s daily activities?”
“What for? It’s not like we are hourly laborers...or slaves, to be monitored.”
“He told me that he wanted to ‘optimize how we expend our energy’ by studying time allocation and making recommendations for improvements,” Kat told her.
“Vincent’s natural cynicism might be rubbing off on me,” commented Dimitra, “but it sounds like the kind of thing a control freak would try to pull by wrapping it in good intentions.”
“Well, you are so lucky to have a man,” whispered Kat, “I should have found one before coming here.”
“There are plenty of available men here, aren’t there?” asked Dimitra, “I thought that was the idea behind the selection of equal ratios of men and women.”
“Katarina covered her mouth when she laughed, “Yes, there are plenty of males, but only a few men worth considering,” she said, in a half-joking tone, “I’m sure your husband is drawing a lot of attention, so I’d keep an eye on him.”
Dimitra smiled, “Oh, I know!” she responded, “His kind always attracts women -He owns a battlemech, which is material wealth, he has power and responsibility and he has an abundance of good looks, as well.”
Kat leaned over and whispered, “If you want to see something pitiful, try having a conversation with my brother.”
Dimitra laughed out loud, “You are so mean!”
“How can you possibly think that you could get away with approving a land claim, sight unseen?” Greenstein was livid. He stormed into Adept Thalassa’s tent after hearing about how Dumare’s application was processed.
“How is any of that your business, Acolyte?” answered the Adept.
His face turned a shade of red, “Your abuse of power is the business of every faithful member of ComStar,” thundered Greenstein, not caring how thin the tent walls were.
“You do realize that the claim was an essential part of our mission’s charter,” reasoned Thalassa calmly, “and part of the contractual conditions as outlined for our non-ComStar settlers.”
“What if the claimed property has controlled technologies?” Greenstein pointed out, “they might find something they aren’t authorized to possess.”
“Yes, that is also contained in the contract,” the Adept informed him, “although the property’s claimant should inform me of the presence of such technologies, the people who wrote the contract neglected to provide examples of what those controlled technologies might be.”
The Acolyte was unwilling to budge on the issue, “It is your responsibility to make certain every claim is inspected prior to approval of any claim!”
“I trust Dumare’s assessment as a competent inspector,” was the Adept’s reply, “if you have nothing else, the matter has been settled, as per regulations and lawful agreements, good day,” Thalassa’s tone underscored the issue being closed.
“This isn’t the end of this issue!” exclaimed Greenstein, “if I have to take it up to the Primus, himself.”
“Good day.” Nu’ukai hefted a metal toolbox into the back of the all terrain vehicle that belonged to his lance’s maintenance crew.
“Kal,” called one of the crewmen from the Hugin, the dropship contracted by Comstar, “I heard all of you were packing up.”
The Polynesian nodded, “The boss called in, said we have a new base,” he took inventory of the remaining space in the back of the vehicle, “when he says ‘Move’, we gotta move.”
“Man, I’m going to miss your food!” he shook the mechwarrior's hand.
“No big thing,” Kalani assured him, “we still guard the town, and come back to party.”
“Well, give me a call when you do,” the crewman turned to leave, “take care!”
“Aloha!” A slim woman with honey-brown skin and dark, wavy hair walked up to the vehicle, she shouldered a Federated Suns military-issue duffle bag and let it fall into the vehicle’s cargo compartment with a dull thud. “That’s the last from our room,” she announced, “Debra and Alex said they will be along, soon.”
Nu’ukai hugged her, “No rush,” he said, “we not going to leave until morning, anyway.”
“Ravi and Coleen told me they’ll load their gear right after their shift is done,” Paulette informed him.
“Good,” Kalani grunted, “we ahead of schedule,” despite all the confusion of the sudden relocation, he took all of it in stride, he fully trusted his commander’s decisions.
Paulette was Nu’ukai’s woman, as well as the technician who cared for his Crab. Like most Polynesians, they were friendly, outgoing, loyal, hardworking and always ready to celebrate something with friends, mostly in the form of large amounts of food.
It was at one of these celebrations that Dumare met Nu’ukai, Dumare tried to ask Paulette for a date and Nu’ukai stepped in. Although Dumare rarely ever passed up a good brawl, he saw no reason to ruin a good party and lose a tooth or so in the process. The two men became good friends and as soon as Nu’ukai’s contract with his previous employer was up, Dumare offered him a position in his unit.
Nu’ukai liked Dumare -he admired his honesty as well as his utter fearlessness in battle; Unlike his previous commanders, Dumare never corrected his heavily accented Standard or occasional use of Hawaiian words, when he thought Standard lacked sufficient impact.
Late Evening The Megalith Away Team, as they called themselves, sat down to a meal of hot clam chowder and sourdough toast. Erecting their four tents in the blowing snow was challenging as well as exhausting, so the team members looked forward to a good rest and hoped for calmer weather come morning. The heaters were all working properly and the tents had more than adequate insulation for everybody to sleep at night and work comfortably during the day. The tents were designed for eight adults with room for gear, so even with the cots and folding desks, assigning three people per tent gave the members plenty of space to work and sleep. Security Chief Henke ate his meal in silence, Acolyte Bond had selected five of the team to dine in his tent and discuss their operations for the next two weeks. Because he wasn’t actually part of the research effort, Bond wouldn’t allow him to sit in on the meeting, no matter how he tried to convince the stubborn technician. He would have to determine other ways to keep an eye on every facet of the project.
“You see,” explained Acolyte Michael Jost, “once the expansion equipment I ordered arrives, I’ll have my private server up and running, and everybody who wants can join in our full, virtual world.”
“That is so awesome!” Stanislaus Przpezewski exclaimed, impressed, “especially since I can transfer my current character from the game on my trivid console.”
“The only restriction being that you start with only the basic equipment,” Jost informed him, “and the early missions will be adjusted for level.”
“Aw, I wish my character could start with his full suit of Blessed Orcknight Plate and Blade of the Immortal Orcmeister,” Stanislaus grumbled, “That would be tres cool!”
“Stan, be thankful I’m letting you start with an elite level character instead of a fresh, new one, like all the other new players,” Mike told him, “I mean, it’s bad enough you already know how to play, which gives you a big head start as it is.”
“So, how many players are we looking at?”
Jost scratched at his unkempt beard, “At least twenty sounded interested,” he then leaned close and whispered, “and at least three women.”
Stan’s jaw dropped.
“You’re leaving?” Acolyte Katarina had burst into the tent serving as Dimitra’s office as soon as she heard the news. “You can’t go!”
“Kat,” she informed her, “I’ll still be working here every day, you know that, right?”
“Really? One of the Hugin’s crew mentioned that the mercenaries and their techs were packing their ATV when I went for coffee in the dining tent,” Kat told her, “they said your husband claimed property over fifty kilometers away.”
“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you,” said Dimitra, “Vince didn’t give me any details other than I’d like it,” she added, “he then said that any of my friends are invited to visit after we get settled.”
“You are so lucky!” Kat exclaimed, “you get to live in a real house when some of us will be living in tents a year or so from now.”
“According to Vince, the area he picked was likely where there were farms and ranches,” Dimitra informed her, “I’ll ask him to look for something you’d like.”
“Would you? That’s so nice!” she gave her friend a hug.
“So, all of this is powered by hydroelectric generators in underground rivers?”
“Yes,” replies Charles Dumare, “a fusion plant would have been easy to detect with the proper sensors,” he continued, “we had considered geothermal but that was rejected due to its unstable nature.” He and his son walked along a wide concrete corridor and reached an intersection, “that way leads to the hydroponic gardens, and that way to power monitoring station.” The corridor measure about four meters across, with a ceiling three meters high, and though lit, the corridor seemed to stretch for over a hundred meters ahead.
“So, who did all this, was it the Star League?” asked Vincent Dumare.
The older man chuckled, “Oh, no,” he replied, “the Terran Hegemony bypassed this planet as unusable, or at least, that’s what our people reported before settling here.”
“Wait, so how did ComStar find this place?”
“Not long before Amaris toppled the Hegemony,” Charles answered, “a jumpship fleeing pirates jumped into the system and sent dropships to top off their water,” he continued, “Al-Tinin IV was listed as a borderline, subsistence world and claimed by Terra, but the government declined to invest in development, but sold the resource rights to a collection of corporations, who showed up and shoved their Terran Hegemony contracts in the faces of the settlers. Fortunately, the locations of most of the resources were a distance from the town of Innsmouth, so there was little interaction, save for occasional visits by the workers.”
“If this place was so borderline, why would ComStar bother with it?” asked the younger man.
“Let me tell you,” said his father, “The Terran Hegemony, the Star League, and ComStar are like many organizations throughout human history,” he said, “they are made up of smaller factions, each with their own agendas.”
“Okay, I can agree with you, for the most part,” Vince admitted, “but what does that have to do with Al-Tinin?”
“I didn’t find this planet by accident, and unlike what information you might have dug up,” he added, “the people who sent me gave me a clear briefing of what I would find here,” he pointed at Vincent, “you were chosen to be sent here, as well.”
“I don’t fully understand,” Vince replied, “why wasn’t given a full briefing as you were?”
“Your mother.”
“What?” he exploded, “what has my mother have to do with anything?”
“How did you find this mansion?” asked Charles.
It dawned upon the younger man, “The data was stored in the Black Knight’s navigation system.”
“Your mother was unaware of it,” answered Charles, “and couldn’t access the data even if she desired so.”
The younger mercenary stopped walking, “Why?” he asked, “What could have driven her to take me from this place, the world I was born, and steal your battlemech in order to escape?”
Charles Dumare sighed and shook his head, “She could not accept our relatives and legacy,” his voice reflected a tinge of sadness, “my dear Lucienne refused to believe that you were destined for greater things, and could not believe what I told her, until she finally met my mother.”
“My grandmother was here, too?” he asked in surprise, “I was told she died on Terra, in a retirement home in Boston.”
“That was your mother’s story,” the old man responded, “she likely wanted you to believe that all ties with my side of your family were neatly severed,” he placed a long-fingered hand on his son’s shoulder, “you shall meet her and many others of our family, soon.”
“Grandmother, alive?” the younger Dumare felt as if he was in a strange dream, his knees suddenly weak, “and other relatives?” he shook his head as if to clear it, “Grandmother would be in her nineties by now.”
“Oh, she is far older than that,” said his father, “over twice as old, actually.”
“That isn’t possible,” Vincent told him, “while recent technology has extended human life considerably, with people normally living to be a hundred years or more, it is rare for anybody to live beyond one hundred and thirty, without significant, expensive machinery.”
“Your mother thought the same,” Charles replied calmly, “but her perspective was the same as yours, based upon limited knowledge and experience.”
Vincent frowned in thought, “So what am I missing here?” he inquired, “Does this planet have some sort of property that extends life? Did the settlers discover some miraculous drug?”
“My son,” the older Dumare told him, “it makes me proud that you have such a nimble, inquisitive mind,” he looked his son in the eye, “everybody brought here shall be exposed to the truth, and some may not like it,” he warned, “your mother rejected what she learned and tried to protect you from it, but you deserve the truth.”
“Yes, I want the truth!”
The older man smiled, “And you shall have the truth, my son,” he motioned Vince to follow, as he turned on his way down the dimly lit corridor, “if you received the standard, Inner Sphere education, you were probably taught that the universe as we know it began with a huge explosion of energy and materials that hurled all known matter into the surrounding, empty void, and some of that matter collected to form what we know as our galaxies, stars, and planets.”
“Yes, that is the commonly accepted theory of the creation of all things,” responded Vincent, “you’re not going to tell me that some omniscient, divine being conjured the universe out of nothing, are you?”
“Goodness, no,” the older Dumare halted for a moment to face Vincent, “truth is a reflection of empirical reality, not the use of mythology to explain mysteries.”
“Okay,” replied Vincent, “if you have an alternate hypothesis, I certainly want to hear it, especially if you have empirical evidence.”
“Very well,” said Charles, “let’s head to the auxiliary battlemech hangar.”
Vincent walk beside the older man, and tried to estimate the size of the facility under the property he claimed, he knew that he was at least thirty meters below the surface, and from the lift to his current position, he had walked at least a hundred meters, which means that the hangar would be another hundred meters away, likely under the barn, he spotted when he first approached the mansion. He noted the number of doors that lined the main hall, and wondered what existed behind them, because the doors lacked marking.
At the end of the hall, a large set of doors barred their way. Charles opened a metal panel on the wall next to the doors, reached into pocket and drew out a small data crystal and pressed it against a sensor pad. There was a metallic click and whine of servos as the doors slid into the walls, revealing the darkness beyond.
“I have to activate the lights,” said Charles, as he depressed a switch.
Vincent walked into the darkened area and squinted as the lights flickered to full illumination to reveal a vast chamber, possibly measuring a hundred meters by a hundred and fifty meters, with four battlemech bays, complete with lifts. hoists and catwalks, capable of factory-level operations. At the far end of the cavernous facility, a massive lift stood, surrounded by a girder-framed cage.
“I’ve died and gone to heaven.” (End of Part Seven)