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DropShip DragonflyTransit orbit, Logandale
Crucis March, Federated Commonwealth
14 July, 3049The DropShip moved serenely toward Logandale, ancestral home of House Northman. The world had steadily grown closer over the last week and a half, from a tiny pinprick indistinguishable from the backdrop of stars to a glowing blue ball dominating the dark. Logandale was on the cool side of temperate, with prominent ice caps at the north and south poles. Eighty-five percent of the planet’s surface was water, mostly open ocean, encouraging a seafaring culture. Two super-hurricanes, with insufficient landmass to blow themselves out, permanently circled the equator, carefully charted by the weather satellite network.
The largest landmass was an island, similar to Earth’s Australia, in the northern hemisphere. It was on the rocky hills on this continent’s west coast where House Northman had their palace. This continent, called simply “Northland,” was also home to the planet’s only major spaceport. Transit to the other inhabited islands was possible via boats and aircraft, and any invader would quickly learn that this homeworld was defended by the single largest wet navy in all the Inner Sphere.
In the DropShip’s observation lounge, Anders and Megan watched as the DropShip closed on the planet, hanging in weightlessness, Anders with his arms wrapped around Megan’s middle, Megan’s arms wrapped around his own. The months in transit from New Avalon to Logandale had been rough, as all space travel is, but had also given the young couple a great deal of time to enjoy each other’s company. They’d even managed to do some work on the Viking Guard.
“This afternoon, we’ll be home,” Anders whispered in Megan’s ear. “I’m really looking forward to showing you around.”
“I’ve met your Dad before, dear,” Megan replied.
“I don’t mean to Dad,” Anders clarified. “I want you to see my home, where I grew up. I want you to love this planet as much as I do.”
Megan smiled, squeezing Anders’ arms around her tighter, but risking no other movement in zero-G. “I’ve never really been attached to places, Anders,” she replied.
Anders nuzzled Megan’s crimson hair. “I know.”
Megan turned to look at Anders, sending them into a lazy spin. “I appreciate the thought, though. You are so good to me.”
He smiled, and kissed her again.
Logandale Spaceport, Logandale
Crucis March, Federated Commonwealth
14 July, 3049Six hours later, the DropShip had landed at Northland’s spaceport, where Anders and Megan disembarked to an escort from the planetary militia, decked out in navy blue dress uniforms with Thor’s Hammer shoulder patches and matching berets. The captain of the guard, a young blonde woman, stepped in front of Anders and saluted, then bowed. “Lord Northman, welcome home. I’m Captain Elisa Loken. My men and I stand ready to escort you to Northman Palace.”
Anders returned the salute, and motioned Captain Loken out of her bow almost before she started it. “Thank you, Captain, I’m honored to accept. This is my close friend, Megan O’Brien.” Captain Loken nodded to Megan, then returned her undivided attention to Anders.
“We have a hovercar standing by for you, my Lord, if you’ll follow me?”
“Lead the way, Captain.”
The guards fell into formation around them, and walked them to an identical trio of hovercars, as heavily armored as they could be for their light weight. The Captain ushered Anders and Megan into the middle car, before getting in herself with one of the militia guards. The other guards piled into the other two cars as the engines hummed to life. Megan recognized the loud, deep thrum of a powerful engine, and knew that these cars could outpace just about anything that could be sent after them. Hovercraft devoted a full twenty percent of their total weight to their impressive engines, and while this limited the amount of armor and other equipment one could carry, it all but ensured the only thing that could catch a hovercraft at flank speed was another hovercraft.
After armor and engines, most of the weight of these hovercars seemed to have been devoted to luxurious interiors. The passengers sat in comfortable leather couches, with end tables in easy reach. The tabletops had been specifically designed to hold the matching glasses with no sliding or toppling, no matter how fast the hovercar travelled or how intense the maneuver the pilot put it through.
Anders reached into the small cabinet and produced a bottle of Drambuie, a honeyed and spiced Scotch whiskey, and poured a bit into two snifters. “To home,” he said, holding up his glass.
Megan clinked her snifter against his. “To the Viking Guard,” she replied. They both sipped the sweet, smooth liqueur, rolling it around on their tongues to savor the taste before swallowing, the warmth of the alcohol spreading slowly through them.
“It’s a pleasure to have you back, my Lord,” the Captain said.
Anders smiled at her. “I’m very happy to be back, Captain, thank you. Anything I should be made aware of?”
The Captain shook her head. “Nothing noteworthy, my Lord. Things have been quiet.”
Anders nodded. “Things have been mostly quiet since 3030. Nineteen years since the end of the Fourth Succession War. . . ten years longer than the next longest gap between Succession Wars. We’re overdue.”
The Captain nodded. “It does seem that way, my Lord. Rest assured, whatever comes, we’ll be ready.”
The hovercars zipped along Logandale’s streets towards Castle Northman.
***
Castle Northman was set on a high hill above Buri, the capitol city of Logandale. The castle’s main wall was set two hundred meters away from the castle itself, twenty meters high and ringed with anti-ground defense turrets. The wall had only a token anti-air defense, with the bulk of anti-air turrets at the castle, the reasoning being that most aircraft wouldn’t waste time at the wall and simply fly to the castle to attack it directly. The castle’s built-in defenses were supplemented by eight combat vehicles and four BattleMechs berthed within the castle itself. The trio of hovercars pulled through the wall’s main gate and followed the winding road up to the castle where they pulled into the main hangar. As Megan and Anders exited the vehicle, they saw an older gentleman awaiting them, dressed in noble garb reminiscent of the FedCom dress uniform, but done in the purple-and-gold of House Northman. He smiled broadly as he saw the couple.
Anders approached his father and shook hands firmly before being drawn into a massive hug. “It’s good to be home, dad.”
Duke Edvard Northman hugged his son fiercely, before pulling away and looking him up and down. “You look every inch the noble warrior,” he said. “I am so proud of you, son.”
“Thank you, dad,” Anders replied, turning to motion his girlfriend forward. “You remember Megan?” Anders had introduced them the last time his father had been able to take leave from his responsibilities as Duke of Logandale and visit NAMA.
“Of course I do,” his father replied, reaching out to take Megan’s hand gently in his, raise it as he bowed, and brush his lips across the back of her hand. “It’s a pleasure to see you again, my Lady. I am honored and pleased you have decided to come here with my son.”
Megan nodded, the honorific she had no right to flustering her. “Thank you, sir. It’s. . . great.”
Edvard smiled. “I’m sure you’re tired after your journey, but while you’re here, I just have to show you. This way.”
Duke Northman led them through the hangar, from the vehicle section into the ‘Mech section. The lance of ‘Mechs stationed permanently at Castle Northman were in their berths, techs crawling over them running routine maintenance. Another set of berths held four more ‘Mechs, the lead a heavily customized
BattleMaster.
“Dad. . . she’s beautiful!”
The
BattleMaster was an 85-ton assault-class ‘Mech, made up of angled slopes and boxes. The 'Mech was painted an overall purple, with gold highlights at the hands, chest, and weapon protruding from her right forearm.
This particular
BattleMaster, named
Freya, had been in the Northman family since before the fall the Star League, and had served the family faithfully the whole time. She’d been extensively customized over the generations, maintaining a level of technology that the Inner Sphere as a whole had only recently rediscovered. The most extensive modification had been switching out the ‘Mech’s standard internal structure for the lighter, bulkier Endo Steel. The weapon on the right arm, which in most standard configurations held a PPC, now contained a large pulse laser. The four forward-facing medium lasers remained high on the left and right torsos, with one each facing rear on the left and right sides. The dual machine guns and six-tube short-range missile launcher were likewise the same models found on most BLR-1Gs. Double heat sinks, bulkier than normal heat sinks but able to dissipate twice the heat for the same weight, gave
Freya the ability fire all her weapons with only a marginal buildup of internal heat. But by far her most startling customization was the four jump jets, located in the pod-like structures common to all
BattleMaster lower legs, giving her incredible maneuverability for an assault ‘Mech. The weight savings of the EndoSteel structure and double heat sinks not only gave
Freya her jump capacity, but also allowed her to mount a TAG laser system, recently recovered Star League technology that could paint a target for guided artillery missiles fired from the equally brand-new-old Arrow IV launchers, the main weapon on the Viking Guard's four Vali artillery vehicles.
Next to
Freya, a brand-new VTR-9D
Victor BattleMech stood in its berth. An older design, the
Victor had been given top priority in new tech redesign by the Federated Commonwealth after several Star League-era technologies were rediscovered. The brand-new, upgraded
Victor swapped its right-arm class-20 autocannon for a gauss rifle, a weapon that used magnetic coils to hyperaccelerate balls of metal. The weapon did 25% less damage than the old autocannon, but had over 200% the range, which allowed the relatively fragile assault ‘Mech to keep its distance from its opponents. The two medium lasers in the left arm had been upgraded to pulse lasers while the left breast four-pack SRM launcher had been left alone. Like
Freya, this model of
Victor had been redesigned using an Endo Steel chassis, rolling the weight savings for the lighter internal structure into its advanced weapons and an extra ton of armor. The
Victor had always been considered something of a support and skirmish ‘Mech, despite its 80-ton weight. It had a relatively high top speed for assault ‘Mechs, and further increased its maneuverability with jump jets, allowing it to maneuver close to opponents and unleash its devastating short-range firepower. To achieve its maneuverability, sacrifices had been made in the weight of its armor protection, leaving the
Victor vulnerable to attack from ‘Mechs in its own weight class. The 4D redesign had attempted to address these shortcomings by replacing the short-ranged autocannon with the longer-ranged gauss rifle and adding armor, though the design was new enough no one was yet sure how well it would work in the field. This individual 'Mech had been further upgraded, swapping the single heat sinks for the double variety and removing five tons from the 'Mech's cooling system. This weight had been allocated to a TAG laser, three more tons of armor to max out the 'Mech's protection, and an extra ton of short-range missile ammo.
The third ‘Mech was another heirloom: the MacLeod family
Highlander, named
Connor after a distant ancestor. Another jump-capable assault ‘Mech, the 95-ton
Highlander, like the
Victor, had a gigantic gun barrel for a right forearm, though the
Highlander protected the gun somewhat with two massive, tapered armor plates along the top. In an odd mirror of the recently-upgraded
Victor, original Star League-era
Highlanders carried a gauss rifle in the right arm, while this
Highlander had been forced to downgrade generations ago to a class-20 autocannon. The right torso held two medium lasers, while the left contained a quad-firing five-tube LRM launcher, loosing twenty long-range missiles per volley. The back of the left arm contained a six-pack SRM in linear launch tubes. Slower than both the
Victor and
Freya, the
Highlander made up for it with an impressive mix of long- and short-range firepower, as well as thick armor and its jump jets, allowing it not only improved maneuverability but the ability to perform the infamous “Highlander Burial.” Jump-capable MechWarriors could attempt to land (more accurately, drop) their ‘Mechs onto opposing forces, typically other BattleMechs. The considerable weight of the other machine could do tremendous damage, and since most ‘Mechs had their heads squarely atop their bodies, it provided an excellent chance of crushing the cockpit and the opposing MechWarrior along with it.
Highlander pilots were fond of the tactic, generically known as “death from above,” so much so that when performed in a
Highlander the tactic was given a new name: the Highlander Burial. The 'Mech had likewise been modified with double-heat sink technology, and surrendered one ton of long-range missiles to mount another TAG laser.
The last of the rebuilt Viking Guard’s Command Lance was a
Marauder II. The
Marauder was popular heavy BattleMech, weighing in at 75 tons, while the
Marauder II was its bigger, meaner brother with a prison record. The mysterious mercenary unit Wolf’s Dragoons had originally commissioned the ‘Mech and used it quite successfully in the Fourth Succession War. After the war had ended, the Dragoons allowed the ‘Mechs to be sold freely to any Successor State. Edvard had purchased one of the 5A models, which used an extra-light engine to make the most of its 100-ton weight, the heaviest a BattleMech could be built without collapsing in on itself. Armed with an extended-range PPC over a medium laser in each arm and an LB 10-X autocannon over its forward-sloped hull, the ‘Mech seemed underarmed for its size, but the accurate PPC and laser weapons were devastating in the right hands, and the versatile autocannon could drill holes in heavy armor or scatter shots across a ‘Mech’s body, sandblasting armor or finding tiny chinks to damage internal components. Jump jets compensated for the
Marauder II's slower speed over its lighter progenitor. The 'Mech had a serious design flaw in the form of heat management: due to space considerations, the 'Mech was only able to mount single-strength heat sinks, and the ER PPCs pumped out insane amounts of heat, forcing the MechWarrior to manage their weapons fire carefully. This
Marauder II had sacrificed one ton of its regular autocannon ammunition to include another TAG laser, letting the entire command lance designate targets for guided missile support from the lance of artillery vehicles.
Anders noted another peculiar trait common to all four ‘Mechs. “They’re all jump-capable,” he observed.
Edvard nodded. “I want the Command Lance to be as mobile and well-protected as possible. Jump-capable assault ‘Mechs seemed the best way to do that.”
Megan had approached the
Victor, and was looking the sparkling war machine over, admiring its fresh purple-and-gold paint scheme. “This one’s mine.”
Edvard smiled. “Of course. Anders told me you had a preference for the
Victor. I want all my warriors to have the best equipment.”
Megan looked at Edvard, surprised. “You. . . you bought this just for me?”
Edvard smiled. “After a fashion. The
Victor is still a great ‘Mech, and a House Davion favorite. Every military should have one.”
***
Later that night, Megan stood in her room, debating on what to wear. Anders’ return from NAMA was occasion for a formal dinner, something Megan had insufficient familiarity with. None of the clothes she owned, even ones Anders had bought for her during their time at NAMA, were quite up to her understanding of what would be required of a noble lady. Fortunately, or perhaps unfortunately, Edvard had anticipated her need, and stocked an armoire in her room with a variety of gowns. Megan was totally at a loss to understand what the various levels of material, cut, and detail meant in terms of formality. She loved Anders deeply, but times like this highlighted how terribly out of her element she was in pursuing a relationship with him.
A gentle knock sounded at her door. Grateful for the distraction, she turned to the door and hollered “Come in!”
The door opened, and a young woman entered, holding the door for Duke Edvard and closing it behind him. “I hope you’re settling in well, my Lady,” Edvard said, carrying a polished wooden box in his arms.
Megan nodded. “Well enough, your grace.” As she and Anders had grown more serious, she’d begun studying and paying attention to proper forms of address, something she’d never been educated in nor cared about in her youth.
“I am pleased to hear it. This is Elissa. She’s offered to serve as your handmaiden while you’re with us.”
Megan felt herself blushing slightly as she shook her head. “That won’t be necessary, your grace.”
“I’m sure you’re quite capable, my Lady,” the Duke replied, making the platitude seem absolutely genuine. “But I insist. An extra pair of hands can always be helpful. And this is for you.” The Duke approached Megan and opened the box. Megan gasped.
Inside, resting in the deepest purple velvet Megan had ever seen, was a matching set of jewels so beautiful they stole the young woman’s breath. A delicate golden tiara encrusted with amethyst gems cut to sparkle dazzlingly was the centerpiece of the collection. In the center of the tiara, the largest gemstone, bigger than Megan’s thumb, had been placed over the House Northman family crest. Matching earrings three inches long rested to either side of the tiara, and a wide necklace filled the slot below, with matching bracelets. The gold of all the pieces was elegantly filigreed, the gems placed close enough together to enhance each other’s sparkle but not so close as to overwhelm or obscure the intricate metalwork. Megan gawked for what felt like minutes, and was still picking out new details, which only enhanced the set’s overall beauty.
“These have been in the Northman family for generations, proudly worn by the Ladies of the House. My mother gave them to my wife when our marriage was agreed upon, and today I give them to you.”
Megan swallowed, trembling. “My lo– your grace, I can’t accept this. It’s – it’s too much.”
Edvard smiled. “Of course you can, my Lady.”
“I’m no lady, your grace. I’m. . . I’m just the brat of a tech from a third-rate mercenary company and whoever knocked her up in some Periphery dive. I can’t- I shouldn’t wear something like this.”
“My marriage to Anders’ mother was arranged, did you know that?”
Megan blinked, confused by the sudden change in topic. “No, your grace, I didn’t.”
Edvard nodded. “A smart match between House Northman and a lesser noble family, sealed with the promise of a third daughter. I remember the first night we met. She was resplendent in her rich gown, and I daresay I was quite dashing in my dress uniform. We sat in the middle of a great table in a great banquet hall, our families on either side of us, and we could think of not a blessed thing to say to each other. We tried, by Blake how we tried. But within an hour it was painfully obvious we had no common interests at all. By the end of the night, we both knew we felt absolutely nothing for each other. We didn’t dislike each other, but there was no spark, no attraction.”
“What did you do?”
“I went ahead with the marriage. It was a smart match, and I could do far, far worse. But I was drawn to a young maid in the kitchens. She was sharp, that one, intelligent and well-read, and not afraid to say things few others would dare say to one in my position. Nothing ever happened. I was betrothed, then married, and I would not shame my wife and my family so. But there are still nights I wonder how differently life would have been had I traded that smart match for that sharp kitchen girl.
“Anders loves you. I can see it in him, and I can see it in you. You make each other happy in a way I could never have hoped for him. It would be my greatest pleasure to welcome you into my home, into my House, as Lady Northman. This-“ he hefted the box- “is my way of giving you and your relationship with my son my blessing.”
Megan groped for words. “Thank you” seemed so inadequate, but in the end it was all she could come up with. “Thank you, your grace.”
Edvard nodded, setting the box on a small table. “It is my honor, my Lady.” He bowed, turned crisply, and left the room.
Elissa closed the door behind him, then glided over to the armoire. “Do you require assistance selecting a dress, my Lady?”
Megan shook her head. “I’d love some, but please, I’m no lady.”
Elissa smiled. “You’re the consort of Lord Anders, my Lady. That entitles you to the honorific.”
Megan arched an eyebrow. “Consort?”
Again Elissa smiled. “The nobles have terms for everything, my Lady.”
“Please drop the ‘my Ladies.’ I want to feel like I’m still a person.”
Elissa’s smiling face grew serious. “Nobles are still people, my Lady. The ones who forget that are the ones you need to watch out for.”
Megan had to admit that Elissa had a point.
“Come, my Lady. I’ll help you select a dress.”
***
Anders stood outside the main banquet hall, at the base of the stairs leading up to the main living quarters. Instead of his AFFC dress uniform, he wore the dress uniform for his Viking Guards, steel grey jacket and slacks with purple highlights and gold trim. The click of high-heeled shoes on stone drew his attention up the great staircase, and he gasped.
Elissa had picked a dress that complimented Leon’s own dress uniform, rich purple with steel grey and gold highlights. The dress was off one shoulder and, Anders would soon discover, low-backed, leaving bare a lot of Megan’s creamy, freckled skin. The hem of the dress was low enough to be dignified, but high enough and slit up the sides to show tantalizing flashes of leg as she walked. Elissa had helped Megan with her hair and makeup as well, the makeup understated, matching the dress and contrasting with Megan’s scarlet hair and emerald eyes. Her hair was cropped short at the front and sides for better contact with a BattleMech’s neurohelmet receptors, but Elissa had managed to style it up in the front and draw the shoulder-strands in the back into a weave of locks that draped elegantly behind her.
Anders gawked at her, and Megan noticed his reaction, smiling. Unconsciously, she stood a little straighter, her steps down the stairs becoming more graceful. Anders collected himself as she neared the bottom, extending his hand. Knowing enough courtesy to respond properly, Megan extended her hand, back up, fingers pointed down. Anders took it gently, bowed, and brushed his lips against her knuckles. “You look absolutely beautiful,” Anders said.
“I feel-“ Megan started to say she felt ridiculous, but looking at Anders in his dress uniform, and the way he looked at her, she realized she didn’t feel that way. At all. “I feel amazing. Thank you.”
“My pleasure, my Lady.” Anders released her hand, and turned halfway away from her, cocking out his arm. “Will you permit me?”
Megan nodded, and slipped her arm through his. Together, they entered the banquet hall.
***
