Veni, Vidi, (Re)aedificavi "I Came, I saw, I (Re)built" (A Commissioned Battletech Isekei)

Chapter 29

Date: March 5, 3029
Location: Kalidasa, Free Worlds League

"So, You said we could make use of anything we had in the storage," Eddy said as he led me into the 'mech bay that he and Sylvie had been working on their Solaris project in. "Well, given we had stowed that batch of freezers, I modified the engine to accept them."

"As long as you left some samples for us, then that's fine," I grunted in response. Sure, it wasn't great that the samples were gone in the first place, but it wasn't the end of the world. We'd managed to salvage something like fifty or so working and not working models out of various 'mechs in the yard. Mostly pulled out of damage fusion engines that we couldn't get working again.

Just having a handful of the various models should let me replicate them given enough time. Right now though, I just wanted to see what they'd managed to do with the junk that was left.

Stepping into the room, the Rifleman didn't look wrong to my native eyes, but to whatever ability this was, something was wrong.

Invalid unit: Construction rules…

I ignored the warning message flagging across the abck of my mind and simply allowed Eddy to explain what he'd done. It seemed that my power, my ability, worked within certain rules and functions.

The real world, on the other hand, didn't work that way. After all, from what I remembered of Mechwarrior Five, you were technically only supposed to put ballistic weapons in ballistic slots, and energy weapons into energy slots. My power didn't seem to care about that. But it did care about this. I didn't really know why, but it was another bit of information I now knew that I hadn't known before.

"Well, you remember that Marauder chassis we wrote off," Eddy asked me.

"Vaguely," I replied, walking up to the legs. "I remember telling all of you that it was more trouble than it was worth to fix and sell it."

"You were right," Eddy chuckled. "The engine was just about the only thing worth salvaging, and it still needed some repairs before we got it working. But, after fixing it, and swapping the engines out, we now had the power to make do with what we had planned. We kept the PPCs and medium lasers from the old 2N, with the freezers, it's ice cold and we now have the weight and tonnage available to do some mighty interesting things. So, I took a page out of the Jagermech and added in a pair of LRM-5s under the PPCs."

I looked at the carefully concealed launchers. It seemed there were plates or something doing the work to try and keep them hidden, and now that I knew what I was lookin for, I spotted similar bits of metal covering bits of both 'shoulders'.

"Solaris is as much a show as it is a test of skill and technology," Eddy said. "We want to be able to send a message in our first bout. Something that the crowd loves. An ace up the sleeves is the perfect thing to bring them in."

"It's a good idea," I leaned back to look at more of the heavy 'mech. "Anything else you did that we'll have to maintain?"

"Well, I wanted to add jump jets," Eddy sheepishly rubbed the back of his head. "But I ran out of space when Sylvie and I started getting creative with the missiles. I could have squeezed them in but then I'd have had to decrease the armor I added. Which would mean less survivability. I could probably still take two tons off to get sixty meters of jump, but I didn't think it would be worth it. If our pilot eventually makes some different decisions, then we can make alterations then."

"How much armor are we talking?" I asked.

"Twelve tons of standard," Eddy slapped the side of the leg. "She should be just as durable as any other heavy 'mech out there."

"Well, if she's ready, then we can prep you and the 'mech for shipping," I told the engineer. "Until we have a full stable of people hired with mechs and pilots to match, you're in charge of this. Hammer got us a line on someone who's been prepping to fight in the medium circuits, and we're going to be backing him. Your mission, should you choose to accept it, is to establish a stable of mechwarriors, mechtechs, and everything needed for us to support our new representative. I've got a few accountants and others going with you to help, but you're in charge."

Eddy stood there for a second.

"You want me to go to Solaris?" He asked, raising an eyebrow.

"I do," I nodded, crossing my arms and leaning against the frankenmech. "You're a good engineer, you're decent with people, and more importantly, you're trustworthy. I can send you and trust that you'll do your level best until we find someone to replace you if you want."

"No," Eddy shook his head frantically. "I always dreamed of being a tech at Solaris. I just never thought it would actually happen."

"Well," I grinned. "Consider this a dream come true. Also, we're paying for you and your family's housing. Anything you need to get established, we'll take care of it. You just focus on making sure everyone thinks Siler's is one of the best companies that exists in the Inner Sphere."

"You got it," He nodded, meeting my eyes and extending a hand. "I'll make sure Solaris and everyone else knows who's the best."

"It's Defiance, isn't it?" I joked.

"It's Defiance," Eddy admitted. "We're probably not even in the top thirty. But any progress upwards is progress. I won't let any of you down.

---

Date: March 13, 3029


Our new industrialmech lines had been released from the department of agriculture around the end of January, which had meant that everything was still offline until we tested everything and made sure our tolerances were exactly what we had planned for.

Reprogramming and testing had taken the better part of the last month. But now that it was finished, we were ready to being production on the Phoenix. Even better, if our calculations were right, we would be able to produce approximately two of them per month. With the potential for squeezing in an extra two or three per year if we ran extra shifts.

Sure, it'd take two Phoenix's to match the cost of one Mackie, but our margins were better on the medium mechs. They were cheaper to manufacture, we didn't owe anyone any license fees given the company that used to make the 'mech was defunct, and everything else was done in house. It cost us about one and a half million C-Bill to make a Phoenix. That was the raw materials that went into everything, the labor, and the cost over time to make up the difference on what we spent on the lines in the first place.

We were planning on selling the 'mechs for approximately three million per 'mech. Which would allow us to start rebuilding our reserves and invest more into the Mercury facility. I wanted the debut of our first proper battlemech to go well.

Admittedly, that was still a couple of years away, which left plenty of time for us to pump out as many of our assault and medium MilitiaMechs as was posible and put them out on the market. My hope was that we would eventually be the premier seller for rear echelon forces as well as any militia units in the Free Worlds League.

After all, if there was one thing I remembered about learning World War 2 History, it was that the rear echelon troops were always in need of something slightly less capable than their front line counterparts. Something that was easy to work with, work on, and freed up 'better gear. But they still needed something that could both take and dish out. Our Militiamechs wouldn't ever be the equal of battlmechs matching their weight. But they didn't have to be.

The militiamechs were the M1 Carbine to the frontline's M1 Garands. They performed and they did what was asked of them, occasionally they would be asked to do what an frontline needed, and when that day came, they'd perform it to the best of their ability.

And when someone used the 'mechs in combat, or had to make field modifications in order to keep it going, our warranty would cover it. We'd do the repairs, we'd RMA it. Hell, at this point, if someone brought any variant of the Mackie to us, I'd be willing to honor our warranty. It was more than a sales pitch, it was something that set us apart from the competition. The sort of thing that made people actually notice and remember us.

Right now though, I was filling out the purchasing documents for a small stable on Solaris that had been on the verge of bankruptcy. We'd swooped in and bought them along with the adjoining house and property for Eddie and his family.

Getting things ready for Solaris was a lot of paperwork. I'd had to do a lot of correspondence via the HPG and Comstar over the last few weeks. I'd had to register us as a sponsor, find the property we needed, find a stable that was going out, and then I'd had to figure out how to get in touch with the people selling the property, then how to purchase it.

It'd taken a lot of long hours sitting at the local Comstar Station talking to the oddly robed adepts to figure out how all of it worked. Oddly enough, Comstar reminded me of the Jedi Order in a lot of ways. Only they worshiped technology instead of using the Force. The gray robes, the 'supposed' neutrality, everything just rubbed me a bit wrong. Sure, there was obviously big money in retaining a monopoly on the entire telecom system for a galaxy. But something didn't math right in my head with how their prices worked and how much they claimed it cost to maintain the system.

That was all before I'd glimpsed an HPG and nearly passed out like I used to from seeing a dropship. Thankfully, all the time I'd spent learning how to ignore the things my power couldn't work with came in handy, and I'd ended up finishing those Q&A sessions with nothing more than a major headache.

But now that Sylvie's and my signature had been added, we were going to be a part of the sponsors for the next Solaris championship later this year.

"Edmund," Susannah poked her head into the room. "If you're done with the purchasing agreements, I can take them down to the HPG to get them sent off."

"That'd be great," I restacked them neatly before sliding them into a large envelope, sealing it, and handing it to my assistant. "Anything else I need to be worried about?"

"Yeah, the mechwarrior that Hammer got into contact with is here," She replied. "He's waiting upstairs, you might want to meet him and see if he's what we're looking for."

"Just have a security guard escort him down," I replied, gesturing towards the paperwork I still had to do for the new Phoenix lines.

"Sounds good," She waved and headed off.

Really, I was reviewing the logs now that the lines had been tested. I didn't want a repeat of the large laser lines to happen to anything. So, I had to print everything out and go over it.

Pencil in hand, I began to go over line by line of code and reports, continuing until I heard a knock on the door and a man stepping into my office.

"Thanks for meeting with me," the young man sheepishly smiled.

"Let's talk about your future, Duncan Fisher…"

Chapter 30


"Let's talk about your future, Duncan Fisher," One of the owners of the crazy Militiamech company that was helping make the Mackie again said to the younger man. Duncan swallowed. He still wasn't sure how he'd ended up here. Sure, he'd worked for his cousin Justin a few years back. But despite doing decently as a Mechwarrior, he hadn't done well as part of a unit. It'd led to the near destruction of his grandfather's Shadow Hawk, and his taking it back to the family in disgrace until Justin had reached back out recently to offer him a job.

Of course, Duncan hadn't leapt at the opportunity. Family was great, but despite them having your back, it wasn't easy to forget what had almost happened to the family's 'mech. That Justin had reached out at all meant that he'd gotten a good contract and was planning to get bigger after some sort of success.

That had apparently changed in the weeks since Duncan had thrown his savings at a dropship headed for Kalidasa. Instead of hiring Duncan as a Mechwarrior, Justin had sat down with him in a bar outside of the spaceport and had an honest discussion.

"Look," Justin had begun over a bottle of some sort of local beer. "I'm still not happy that you walked away right when the company was at it's lowest point. Glad that you managed to get Gramps' mech out, sure. But not happy that you left us with less than a working lance. If we hadn't gotten lucky, the unit would've gone out of business. Regardless of my feelings about this, you're a decent Mechwarrior, and I know you've been saving up to go to Solaris and put your name in the ring. Well, I have an opportunity for you. My current employer is looking to put someone in Solaris to represent them. This is your shot to potentially make it big. From this point forward, any success or failure is on you. Nobody else. Try not to fuck it up."

Duncan shook his head free of the thoughts and decided to do what he'd always done when feeling out of his element. He was going to not only fake it, he was going to be loud and boisterous about it.

"Yessir, I'm glad to talk about my future. My cousin Justin has had a lot of great things to say about you. Now, I was planning on going to Solaris to compete in the medium 'mech circuit. I've been working with our grandfather's old Shadow Hawk since I was a teenager."

"If you decide to stick with us, we might be able to move you into the medium 'mech circuit eventually, but for now, our team is going to be putting you into the heavy 'mech circuits," the redheaded CEO had an intense look in his eyes as he leaned forward, it was as if the redhead could see into Duncan's soul. Worse, Duncan had no idea if Edmund Blaze liked what he saw…

"Now, I'm not going to be the one you report to," Edmund said, standing up from the desk while calling out to the pretty secretary he had. "Susannah, can you give Sylvie a call and let her know that I'm bringing over her new hire?"

"On it, boss," the now-named Susannah replied, picking up a phone, dialing a few numbers, and repeating those words to someone on the other end of the line. "I'll make sure no one tries to blow up our large laser line. Again."

"That happens?" Duncan asked, trying to keep the nervousness out of his voice.

"Once," the CEO casually led him into the elevator and hit the button that would return them to the surface. "But the once was enough for us to never want it to happen again."

"So, I haven't signed a contract yet," Duncan broached the subject once the doors had shut, leaving him alone with the CEO.

"And you won't until I get approval from Sylvie," Edmund replied with a shrug. "I'm not neurohelmet compatible, I can help design a 'mech, I can run a business, and I can do a whole lot of work to support others. But I have no idea what to look for in someone to represent us on Solaris. So, I'm going to leave that to Sylvie and Eddie. It'll ultimately be their decision that makes this work or not. My recommendation," the elevator stopped at the top floor. "Be honest with them. We're here to help you, and for you to in turn help us."

The doors opened up, and Edmund led Duncan to a car, and opened the door. "This car will take you to the yard where the 'mech, Sylvie, and Eddie are located. You impress them enough, and you'll have a job. If you don't, then Hammer said he'll still have you in the Hogs. See you around, Duncan, let's hope things go well for you."

With that, the door shut and Duncan shuddered. He knew that meeting people who owned companies was intense, but he hadn't been this tongue tied in years. He'd have to see if he could get some of that back. After all, a Solaris Mech Jockey had to have style, they couldn't be seen as some nobody. So, he ran his fingers through his hair one time to make sure that it was still in the right place and prepared to impress this "Sylvie" and "Eddie" characters.

---

Date: March 21, 3029


I guessed Duncan had impressed Sylvie and Eddie more than he had me. Because to me, he seemed just a little too nervous to be the sort of person who could be trusted to perform well under pressure. Maybe it had something to do with us being a new company, maybe he thought that he'd be meeting with someone other than myself or Sylvie, but he hadn't impressed me all that much.

Not that I knew a lot about what a Mechwarrior really needed. After all, I wasn't neurohelmet compatible and had to rely on manual driving when I moved any of our 'mechs out of the production and into the testing area.

Sylvie and Eddie had their strengths, and I had mine. My talents lay in administration, and with the strange ability in my head, with helping redesign 'mechs to be sold as militiamechs. I'd never been one for tournament sports in my past life, whether it be MMA, or football(American or European didn't matter), or anything that most people enjoyed.

So, I was going to leave it in the hands of those more suited to the arenas of Solaris. Sure, Sylvie still had a lot to learn about negotiations and how to handle things that might need to have something lubricate the wheels. But I was convinced that she would adapt perfectly fine.

Thankfully, things were progressing relatively smoothly with the Phoenix. We'd taken the lessons learned from the Mackie, and we were incorporating them. If projections were accurate (They usually weren't), then we'd have our first 'mech off the line in a few weeks to put through all of our usual rigorous testing and paces.

I didn't want to be another 'military-grade' company like I'd heard about back home. Where things were made to be the lowest possible quality. No, we were going to make gear that was second-string, for the rear-echelons, yes. But it was going to be the best.

Eventually, I did want to build proper Mackie and Phoenix battlemechs alongside the militiamechs. If things went well, I figured we'd be ready for that sort of move and expansion inside of a decade.

The real problem I was struggling with right now was the question of diversifying our industrial capacity. Small arms was technically a market we could easily enter into. It was even easier to make a profit via margins. I wasn't sure if we wanted to move into manufacturing gear for the individual soldier on top of making the 'mechs. But every time I looked at how hyperspecialized we were, the businessman inside of me started to shudder. Yes, we could specialize in being a defense contractor, but if one of our factories were damaged, or destroyed, or any number of things, we'd want to have something to rely on that could keep us afloat even in times that were lean.

Despite my misgivings, I had ended up running the math for starting small arms, body armor, and everything a soldier might need barring foodstuffs over the last few days while we were waiting on the last of the Phoenix lines to complete their checks.

No, it wouldn't make nearly as much money as any of our 'mech lines did. But it'd be much easier to acquire tooling, and it scaled extremely well from planetary to interstellar. And, if I could swing an SRM factory into the small-arms then we would have a steady source of income as people purchased missiles from us.

It was odd, and I didn't quite understand how they made it work on an interstellar level, but according to everything I could find, and everyone I asked, the missiles themselves were a universal thing across the galaxy. Yes, there were specialty munitions that had vanished over the centuries of war, but everything else had standardized long ago.

Which meant that anyone who had a factory that produced missiles, whether long-range or short-range had a money printer. Was it a fast money printer? No, but it was a constant stream of cash that wouldn't die down.

If I were going to do this, I wanted to get Rebecca involved. After all, she loved small arms. She might enjoy being able to pilot 'mechs, but she lived to be able to use the arsenal she'd built up over the years. If I could get her input and her investment into what was worthwhile, we could expand our portfolio into something that we could also apparently market to civilians.

Which was both cool and unsettling in equal parts to someone like me who'd never done more than go to the range with family when growing up. Nowadays, I somewhat understood why my grandfather'd always wanted me to go hunting with him and to learn all of this stuff.

The world was a dangerous place. Being prepared for anything that might happen while we lived in it made a lot more sense to me now than it ever had back home.

Back on Earth, even with natural disasters like hurricanes and earthquakes, it felt like there was a chance to come together and for the government to eventually step in and help. It didn't feel like that here. If a disaster happened and your planet needed help, you were on your own. Even worlds that were more valuable weren't immune to losing out. I'd done my research, Kalidasa had gotten off lightly, there were worlds that had been industrial powerhouses. They'd been decimated, written off, and forgotten about. Even if it hadn't happened lately, that didn't mean that it wasn't possible for it to happen again in the future.

Things had been going well for us so far. Now I was just going to wait for the other shoe to drop and for things to fall apart around me. The 4th Succession War had started last year. We were one jump away from the Lyran Commonwealth border. It would only take one disaster for us to lose everything and for me to be back to square one. Again…

Chapter 31

Date: April 14, 3029


"Look, if you really want to break into this market, then you've got to do something different from everyone else," Rebecca said as she looked at the finantial documents I'd given her, the edge of a pencil touching her lips. "A lot of places make small arms, it's fairly easy to get into that industry. What you want to do is market to more than mere infantry and rear echelon troops. You're going to want to do a whole ecosystem."

"What do you mean?" I asked.

"Well," She leaned back in her chair and rubbed some sleepiness out of her eyes. "While the military market and the military surplus market is glutted with stuff, what not a lot of people are doing right now is building equipment exclusively for civilians, or for worlds that don't have a well-funded militia. Something for rural areas that helps fill a lot of needs. So, here's my thoughts. The small-arms are just a part of an ecosystem you're going to sell to folks," She pulled out a blank piece of notebook paper and began writing on it. "A lot of local places can afford a bunch of little purchases or one big one. You're going to do both. A container with a fusion-powered well, small machine shop, and the storage for everything a small town needs to arm itself. They're paying for all of this, and as a result, they can now repair and maintain everything that they're purchasing from you. If you also sell the uniforms, can source an MRE manufacturer to partner with you, and basic body armor, you'll essentially have a ready made kit for small towns to buy and arm themselves against pirates or anything else that comes their way."

"Alright," I frowned. "Why would I spread things out that far and fast?" I tapped the piece of paper she'd begun writing on. "That's a lot of markets to get into all at once, and a lot more startup capital than I'd originally planned."

"Well, it kills a couple of birds with one stone," Rebecca replied chewing on the end of the pencil again. "For one thing, now you're not reliant on the firearms production and sales going well right out of the gate. You've got security because you'll be in textiles, you'll be in wells, generators, etc. The other part of this, is that I'm going to be buying in on this. I'm a part of the target market for this sort of gear," She gestured to her house that we were currently in, and I nodded in response. "There are a lot of moderately wealthy people, or simply groups of people or towns that would love to purchase everything at one place. Instead, they have to workshop everything around. Durable and effective clothing in one area, weapons in another, etc. We're going to do all of it. Hell, I'll even get in touch with the local farms to source the raw materials for the textiles. Wool will be a bit harder to source than cotton, but as long as we have some access to both of those as well as some of the more modern blends of materials, we can make things work."

"I always thought the wool was a marketing thing," I raised an eyebrow.

"No," She shook her head. "This isn't the history books where wool is scratchy, itchy, and heavy. If you process the wool properly, it makes for an incredibly effective all-weather underlayer. It'll keep you cool in the summer, warm in the winter, it's moisture wicking, and it doesn't hold onto odors as much as modern polyester blends. Cotton works well for an outer layer, especially in climates like we have here in Kalidasa. Some things are going to have to be made out of other fibers though, and I'll have to see who can provide the fabrics to use there. Then, after you get done with the clothing, you have to figure out what small arms you want to manufacture and sell. I recommend,"

A few sentences later, and I'd gotten lost in what my fiance was talking about. I'd apparently hit on one of her favorite topics, and she'd done enough deep dives into it that she knew way more than I did about the entire subject. Assuming she knew what she was talking about, then my ideas might have a bit more purchase than I'd originally assumed.

Now I just had to figure out what part of this I was going to start with to build the second business…

---

For all that Rebecca enjoyed being an accountant, she'd never really felt like she was doing something that would make a difference for people. Maybe because she'd basically just been helping people do taxes, and avoid having to give the Feds any more money than was strictly necessary.

But now, she felt like she was in her element. She'd gone over her funds, she'd gone over Edmund's, and now she was going through the gear she already owned.

"No, I'm telling you, Jackson," She said, the phone laying on the rug next to her as she sat on the floor. "I'm finally getting into the gear market like I've been talking about."

"Becs," her cousin sighed while Rebecca began going through stacks of old gear, trying to figure out what was worth looking into copying or modifying, and what was junk that shouldn't even be looked at. "You've been saying that since you got out of the militia."

"And now I have the money, the know-how, and a lover who's already connected into the industry," Rebecca replied. "So, are you going to do what I asked, or do I have to reach out to someone that's not family?"

"I'll work on getting the materials you need," Jackson replied. "But I ain't gonna do more than get you into contact with folks. I won't have you offering them an unfair price for their goods."

"Jackson, when have I ever acted like that?" Rebecca asked, a touch offended at what her cousin had just insinuated.

"Well, we haven't spoken in years," Rebecca could hear Jackson's shrug. "I dunno how you've changed since you started making all tha money."

"Power and money don't change people, Jackson," Rebecca shook her head as she picked out the rucksack she'd like for them to use as a base for manufacturing. "They just amplify what's already there. I'll reach back out in a few weeks after I've gotten the factory and logistical parts of this sorted out. You just make sure the farmers are good to go."

"Yeah, cuz, I hear ya," Jackson chuckled. "I'll have a contract written up with some folks down here in a bit. You take care, try not to get that fiance of yours kilt over your obsession."

"It's not obsession or paranoia," Rebecca growled. "This is the Inner Sphere, if you're not prepared for what it might throw at you, then you're going to end up dead in a ditch or a slave to pirates. I won't be either."

With that, she set the phone back on the cradle and stood up, stretching for a moment as she tried to find her nice rug underneath all of the equipment.

"The straps on this bag are good, but the rest of the design is trash," She grabbed the one survival knife that she'd already decided on and cut the straps off. "We'll have to work on the design a bit to get it to work with everything."

Taking her stack of rucksacks, backpacks, and other gear that she used for hiking, rucking, and carrying shit around the mountains, she tossed it into the corner of the room. She'd tried just about everything over the last few years. She'd beaten the gear up, used it, and over the years had found out what was durable and comfortable enough for use both in the field as well as what was complete and utter bullshit that had been sold.

The same went for various small arms. A lot of bullpups had crap triggers and awful quality control, as did a bunch of recoiless rifles and SRM launchers. Which was insane given that the SRM launchers should have been as simple as a tube with a basic sights setup.

But when she was in the militia, Rebecca had learned otherwise. There were far too many companies that believed on cheaping out materials. Sure, it didn't happen often, but every now and then a launcher was missed in the militia's armorer inspections.

But the guns were the last thing she was going to be working on. For now, it was the rest of the gear she was focused on. Edmund was good at weapons and was extremely strict about quality control, all she had to do was make sure that he knew what products were actually worth producing and they'd be in business.

---

Date: July 17, 3029
Location: Location: Concord, Free Worlds League

Austin really wasn't sure how to feel about the pair of MilitiaMechs that had been purchased by his superiors in the Concord Militia. Admittedly, at the price tag they carried, he certainly hoped they were more than pieces of junk.

Admittedly, the Mackie was instantly recognizable. The massive 100-ton behemoth was one of the things that had stayed a part of the myth and legends of battlemechs over nearly a millennia. Even if this one was only part of the firepower the original could bring to bear, then it was going to be a beast on the battlefield.

It was the lighter 'mech that concerned him. He had never heard of a Phoenix before being assigned to pilot this one. That wasn't to say it was a bad 'mech, but he didn't quite know what to make of it or its armaments.

A large laser was almost always a welcome piece of kit. But he had no idea what to make of the pair of medium Blazers that were seated in the shoulders of the medium. According to the documents he'd been given, they could hit almost as hard as a large laser. But they didn't share the range of one, and they generated a ton of heat. Sure, the damage output would be nice to have when up against someone bigger than him, but he might try to pull the pair for a trio of mediums if he didn't like the blazers in the end.

Still, a 'mech was a 'mech, and he now had the ability to pilot one after losing the family Locust a half-decade ago. So, he climbed in and sat down, taking in the factory-fresh smell of a new 'mech.

"Damn," Austin whistled, the seat was a comfortable padded and cooled synthetic leather he'd only heard about coming from Defiance Industries. The displays were immaculate, and there was still a plastic film covering all of them.

Austin ignored the plastic covers, and began pulling his cooling vest and neurohelmet on, he could peel them off after he was done with his initial tests. Making sure the leads were properly connected and the tubes run down into the fusion engine, the Militia noncom initialized the reactor.

"Reactor, online, sensors online, myomers online…" the voice of the 'Betty' this company had chose went over the factory fresh startup sequence. Usually, most Mechwarriors set it to only do the reactor, sensors, and weapons after they got a feel for how the 'mech initialized itself. But the first few times, they would let it go through all of them. "Weapons online. All systems nominal."

With everything online, Austin turned on the fire control systems and linked his 'mechs battlecomputer into the local 'net'.

"Heya Sarge!" the cheerful voice of Romeo, the current person manning the communications relay greeted him. "Taking the new ride out for a spin?"

"Aye," Austin grunted, the kid had entirely too much energy. "I'm transmitting my course now, I'm going to hit up the canyon and put her through her paces. If Reagan decides to do the same with the Mackie, let me know. I'll run through some familiarization drills with her."

"Copy that, Sarge," Romeo replied. "I think she said something about finishing her paperwork and then hopping in the 'mech. So, you should see her soon."

"Understood, Stone Cold, out."

Reagan was a young officer, and Austin was glad she'd been given the heavier 'mech. She was an idealist, and it was going to take everything he had to keep the youngsters alive if and when the Lyrans decided to make another attempt across the border…

Omake attempt

Mark Grayson Was a nerd. Everyone in the mikitia company knew That. He also Was son of General Grayson - commander of the planetary militia and pilot of the ancient family battlemech. An assault one. Banshee. The ancient behemot Was famous for throwing down in every Battle their planet face for the Last 2 hundreds years, granting it's wielders title of Knight.
But today Mark Himself got his own mech. His family pulled out all available resources to buy him his own mech. At first Mark Was not happy, it Was Just a militia mech. But now standing before it in the family hangar he finally saw truth.
It was Mackie. The First Mech. It WAS Mackie! It Was absolutely classic.
It was Just a little smaller than the Brutal Banshee of his father.
"So son, are you happy now?" asked his father in mischievous voice,hiding a smile in his prominent moustaches.
"Yes!" Mark could only squeal in delight. Well, not squeal, he Was a man gron now at 18.
"Tge only thing That's left for you to chose is to how to paint it. Very important."
Mark could only nod in answer. They worked together, father and son and their old mech tech to paint 100 ton Monster in his favorite colours - Yellow and blue. They painted white circles around large lasers to create illusion of menacing eyes. Now the mech looked like it Was a giant face with sturdy arms and legs attached. Mark and his Mom has agree with him - it was very cute picture. That night he has found a ancient video in family archives and proudly show it to his family, the True source of his appreciation of the most classic mech - it Was video of the debut demonstration of the Mackie, combained with the interview of the first Mechwarrior Himself - Charles Kincaid.
"... When I am inside this Machine," was saying THE FIRST MECHWARRIOR in the video, "I feel myself Invincible."
Those words has stricken something DEEP inside of Mark' soul. And so he said to his family.
"Invincible," This is the name i am giving my mech. "
" A fitting theme with 'Brutal' of your ancestors mech, " his father chuffed in moustaches. His mother Just smiled.

Next morning came earlier than expected. He Was thrown from his bed after Just 2 hours of sleep by raid alert signal. He quickly run to the family hangar and found his father already entering The Banshee. His hands shook as he Was activating his own mech. His own mech! To go to his first Battle! With his father.
Thankfully the mechs - old and a New one could run with the same speed.

The raid Was a big one. Almost a mixed battaluon has dripped on the planet. A company of Light mechs, a company of medium and a company of assorted fast tanks. It was yet nuclear if it Was pirates or "pirates".
Presently militia Was outnumbered. Reinforncments Will come from the other region of the planet only in five hours. For now a reinforced company of mechs and a company of variuos tanks with a lance of LRM carriers Was all his father could throw at pirates.
And he Must make strategic decision.

His father placed him with an Experienced mixed lance of mechs and gave them LRM carriers to organize an ambush of sorts.
Mark Will be the linchpin of the ambush as the only one other assault weight class mech on the planet. His role Was simple. To be the bait. To Stand in th emiddle of highway leading to germanium mines and to bring attention to himself. The other 4 mechs Will give fire support. And when the enemy Will engage, the hidden LRM carriers Will strike in Force. And then main Force of militia May come to reinforce them.
If they Will be able.
It Was risky. It was perhaps the only viable Plan. To bait much more mobile enemy into a right position to crush them.
For some reason his lancemates Was sure he are here to die. Mark did not agree. He Was feeling himself... invincible. Stand g there. Menacingly.

Soon the enemy has come. Some Locust mechs fleeting Just outside their Effective weapon ranges. They observe his line mech and probably noticed his support lance. And hope fully did not noticed Hidden LRM carriers.
Several minute Later more enemy has come and started their attack. He glared at their Light mechs. Spiders and Firestarter. He glared and moved torso of his mech making it seem like a giant painted face of his mech is also glaring. Then he triggered his large lasers, making the glare a deadly one. One of his lasers missed, the other got lucky with a headshot and enemy Spider has fallen to the ground with it's pilot burned out.
The Battle Was to a good start in his opinion.
It it Was going good for some time. The other Spiders also fell to his lasers. One to large and one to medium blaser in his left hand. In the end Firestarter managed to close the distance and bathe him in flames thanks to him being so distracted by Spiders... But strangely after a fit of panic Mark has found Himself unaffected. He knew what Firestarter was trying to burn him, he saw nothing but flames on the cameras. But I side he Was cool. He managed to remember what mech have other feeling and has found his enemy on magnascanner. Unmoving, seemingky believing what he has won.
Mark corrected him with a single shit from his AC20 and then watched enemy reactir explosion.
He still Was cool. His armor Was still largerly in the green. He still have all his ammo.
He Was feeling himself... Invincible.

His support lance did not revealed themselves in this skirmish. But they needed all their skill when 5 minute Later a whole company of the pirates has come. Thankfully it were Just the Light mechs and his mixed support lance consisted of 2 mediums - Shadowhawk and Vindicator and one heavy - Dragon. Their Light was a styrdy Panter. They flanked the distracted enemy and hit them like a fist of vengeful God. In the middle of That Battle enemy tanks showed up. Some sort of fast moving hovertanks.
They Was scary at first, but easily died to his kicks.
Mark laughed when it ended. They has beat 2 companies of the enemy. They did alone. Yes, there was weight disparity, but they dont even needed KRM support. Yes his armor Was mostly Yellow, and half of his ammo Was gone.
But he still felt himself... Invincible.
The enemy were just too distracted by the mrnacing bulk of his mech.
His lancemates laughed too over the radio. A little histerically. And promised him all the drinks.

This is them the rest of the enemy has show up. A medium company.
They appeared all at once. In semicircle around him and his exhausted friends. And they all started to shout at once. After a few seconds of the barrage his armor Was being stripped off and he received numerous alerts about internals being damaged. His AC20 manage to fire once and then it was sheared off. It felt like losing his own hand because of neurohelmet.
He turned and ducked and rolled under enemy fire, pulling all the tricks his father has teached him.
It wa snot enough. Alerts Was Coming non-stop. His new friends Was on their Last dregs too. In less than a minute they Will start to die.

This is when the Hidden LRM-carriers started to fire.
He noticed the Banshee of his father moving under cover of dust clouds rising and LRM missiles falling, while all attention of the enemy Was forced forward in gleeful murderlust. It has come has come closer from their back. Without firing it's weapons, it was strangely stealthy in the general cacophony of battle. It made seemingly no sound until it got into it's real RANGE. CQC one. It has reaped enemy commander mech, a modified Hunchback, arms off. And then picked the mech up and flipped it upside down, crushing it's cockpit. The ancestral battlemech with it's gorilla-like arms started to demonstrate Why it Was named "Brutal". And more friendlies were coming after him.

The Battle has ended in minutes after That. The pirates were routed and started to flee from the planet. As Mark was watching running pirates adding his large lasers from time to time, his father has come to him and added PPC fire of his own mech.
"How are you, son? Holding up?"
"Well, I am still standing," they watched enemy dropships closing their doors leaving some pirates behind to hastily launch under artillery fire, and with a painful groan tried to joke, "I am invincible."