Chapter 30
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MarkWarrior
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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…
"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…