Battletech Welcome to the Jungle

PeaceMaker 03

Well-known member
Upgrade kits beyond the stuff they have specs for/are planning to do anyways don't make sense for the CAC. They lack the resources and the geographic position in the LC to make the shipping work. Let people who make the designs/spare parts for them figure out upgrade kits beyond the basic here's DHS for the mech

I agree with what you're saying that is why I suggested partnering with Olivetti and focusing on excess production. This is for making money but it also allows for more upteched mechs being fielded.
Katrina could have a little bird tweet in her ear about creating a co-op for excess capacity as the manufacturer's component lines start producing, to assemble upgrade kits. This will also keep the nobs for trying to influence lostech purchases for their private mechs if Lyran military is the only approved market for lostech components. Also easier to make sure things like DHS and ER lasers do not fall off the truck.
 

Speaker4thesilent

Crazed Deplorable
All this talk about crit slots in the mech, didn't @Speaker4thesilent say years ago how he was writing a narrative and not a battle report? Crit slots don't really matter, it's a game mechanic, tonnage and volume matter.
Crit slots are a mechanical representation of volume, though?
This. I do my best to make sure that if I’m using Endo or FF on a Mech, that some Endo or FF end up in in each section of that Mech. Keeps me from memeing too much if nothing else.

That’s part of what I mean by going for realism. Other stuff is thinking about why certain decisions would have been made. Why not to Endo or Freezers on a design that could use them? Because the redesign is a pain in the ass. Etc.
 
Chapter 32

Speaker4thesilent

Crazed Deplorable
A/N: Hey, waddaya know! it didn't eat my formatting this time!

Chapter 32​

Weber’s Holdfast, Catachan, Catachan System
Trellshire, Tamar Pact, Lyran Commonwealth
October 20th, 3016


“I’m really impressed by how quickly everything came together,” I commented to Julia as I shrugged off my suit jacket and tossed it over the back of one of my chairs.

It hadn’t taken long to get the main hangar at the Harquebusiers’ base set up for the show, of course, but some of the decorations and choreography had taken quite a while.

My initial instinct had been to quietly do everything in the unit and just be done with it. Julia had politely suggested that this was another of those things that needed to be done publicly, and after the last time I wasn’t inclined to argue.

So, starting from the evening after everything was settled, we’d had three Catachan days to get everything in order.

For the promotions and the ennoblements, that was fine, but I’d had to put a hold on the knighthoods I was planning on handing out. Good as she was, Ruby couldn’t sculpt what I’d finally decided on for those overnight.

Eh, it’ll be fine. Something we can do when our detachments get back home, I decided, shrugging the concern off for later.

“I told you that everything would be fine,” Julia said. She’d been able to get away with military dress, which was actually pretty much dead-on as far as comfort was concerned. We were, after all, above even the cloud forest at the Holdfast. Even so, the uniform jacket still made its way over to join my own rather heavier overwear with dispatch.

“And you were right,” I agreed. “Notice I didn’t argue with you this time. I can be teached.”

Julia grimaced cutely at my deliberate butchery of the English language before picking up the thread of her commentary.

“Even if part of the consideration was military, ennobling Baron McCready sent exactly the political message we might have hoped. Even though he’s a former Mechwarrior, the community thinks of him as a physician. Seeing someone outside the military earning elevation to the nobility means they can look to the future and dream of seeing themselves in that position given sufficiently meritorious service.”

“Proves there’s no glass ceiling,” I agreed. It was nice to be able to kill two birds with the same stone. Speaking of stone …

“And they did confirm that the granite is going to be in this shipment, correct?” I inquired, turning towards the door where my butler was lurking patiently waiting.

“Indeed, Your Grace,” he replied even more formally than usual…

This probably was the third time I’d asked, but it had been entirely too long since I’d promised to set up a memorial for those who died freeing the planet from Amaris. It had needed to be shipped in rather than created locally; even though we had an abundance of granite, stonecutters on Catachan with the right set of talents for what I’d decided on were few and far between.

“Alright, Mr Owens! I promise I’ll stop asking. I’m just looking forward to getting this particular item off my to-do list,” I told him before picking up the mug of cider waiting for me on the table and taking a drink. Julia, beer already in hand, raised her beverage in toast.

“To cutting down on our to-do lists!” she proposed.

I snorted, but matched her gesture.

“Worth drinking to,” I acknowledged, briefly wondering what my newly promoted officers were getting up to.

XXXXX​

Marsha Fischer pouted at her twin sister even as she raised her beer to take a pull. She might have gotten a promotion tonight as well, but Captain felt like a much bigger gap from First Lieutenant than Second Lieutenant had from First. Didn’t help that they weren’t going to be fighting beside each other any more. They weren’t even in the same Lance, for heaven’s sake!

“Man, I can’t believe you guys are getting to go pirate hunting while I’m stuck here on garrison duty!” Rowdy bitched lightheartedly, an outrageous pout on his face.

“Should have gone with a Medium instead of a Heavy,” her pink-haired twin shot back with a smile before she could come up with a rej- rejoi-… a response. “Mediums are workhorses, not pampered, fancy hanger queens.

Rowdy made a disgru- disgrom-… an angry sound into his beer.

…Maybe she’d been drinking a little too fast?

She glanced down at her tankr- tancre- … glass and found it mostly empty.

Probably, yeah, she decided and set the booze aside instead of ordering another. The hell did she know about leading a Lance anyway? She’d learned how to pilot a ‘Mech at her Papa’s knee.

Sure, she knew every dirty trick in the book when it came to beating the shit out of the enemy, but being a Lance leader meant more than just being able to fight.

Most all the officers to join the unit in the last few months were Academy graduates. Hell, most of those who’d joined since they started building up again were, even if many had only graduated from smaller places like Somerz- Summer- … Somerset!

Somerset was supposed to be a nice place. At least everybody they hired liked it. Small, quiet little academy on a small, quiet little planet …

where was I going with that?

… She couldn’t remember. She picked up her beer and drained it, then remembered she’d decided to slow down on the drinking.

Maybe get some water next?

Looking around to spot one of the staff, she instead caught sight of her sister teasing/flirting with Rowdy and pushed herself slightly unsteadily to her feet.

Hell with it, I’ll get someone to pour me into a cab later.

XXXXX​

Weber’s Holdfast, Catachan, Catachan System
Trellshire, Tamar Pact, Lyran Commonwealth
October 20th, 3016


Marsha woke to the taste of bad decisions and regret. The mountains kept ‘dawn’ a somewhat nebulous concept in the Holdfast. Depending on where you were, it was somewhere between mid-morning and noonish when the local star managed to drag itself into sight.

The fact that the sun was up meant something important, but at the moment it meant badness and pain.

“Murvle,” she objected, and that somehow managed to make her headache worse for at least a few moments. She dragged a pillow over her head, then immediately changed her mind. It was too hot, and her mouth tasted like death and bile.

By dint of long familiarity, she managed to navigate to the bathroom with her eyes pressed closed. She kept a small glass there to rinse with after she brushed her teeth. It would do.

She fumbled with her small medicine cabinet by feel and managed to extract a couple pain-reliever capsules, which she promptly downed with the first glass of water. A second rapidly followed, after which she felt a little more human.

Also, awake enough to remember that she needed to get her Lance onboard their LCAF-supplied Union and off to Steelton.

“Drunk-me is a biiiiiiitch,” she lamented before stumbling toward the kitchen and its coffee machine.

XXXXX​

James glanced out the open bay door of the LCAF Union and finally caught sight of Second Battalion’s Medium Company as they made their way across the taxiway toward where their own dropship was located. He briefly wondered what sort of Engineering casualty had kept them, but quickly turned his attention to getting his people settled in for the trip to Toland.

“What’s taking so long getting that Phoenix secured?” he inquired as he turned and jogged a few steps down the Union’s mech bay.

“Sounds like a hydraulic failure in one of the clamps,” the Master Tech he’d been following responded, movements hesitant in Catachan’s heavy gravity. “It shouldn’t be a big deal, just-” the man continued, only to be interrupted by the sound of raised voices.

James was suddenly sure he knew where their destination was.

The tech grunted and sped up, but James was already around him and accelerating.

It still took several long seconds for him to arrive at the last mechbay on the left where a crowd had gathered.

A quick glance revealed a pair of techs confronting Tom Yellen, one of the pilots in his Command Lance. The situation hadn’t descended past finger-pointing yet, but it was very much heading in that direction.

“And what is going on here?” he demanded, very carefully not yelling, rather projecting his voice to cut through the yelling.

“Sir-” “Tha-”

“What I see is the leadup to a series of Article 12s,” he continued, glaring at both his own Mechwarrior and the Technician who’d tried to interject.

He’d have liked to take all the credit for the instant decrease in tensions, but it was probably the allusion to the infamous LCAF regulation for Non-Judicial Punishments.

Either way, he was well aware that he was a guest onboard this dropship, but that he was also the most senior officer present, he first pointed at the technicians.

“You first,” he ordered as the Master Tech finally arrived.

“This Myr- … Mechwwarrior just rammed back into the Bay’s docking cradle!If it didn’t lock the first time. Trying to brute-force it ain’t gonna solve the problem!

“You can see the fu- friggin’ bend in the upper-left restraining arm!” the tech bit out, then seemed to recognize James rank insignia, because he added a belated, “Sir!”

Looking, James could indeed see that there was indeed something of a bend to the cradle. On the other hand, it sure looked like it was ready to receive a Mech, so why hadn’t it moved in response to-

Well, now he was pretty sure he knew what had happened, but he’d need to get confirmation somehow.

“Staff Sergeant Yellen, your side of the story.”

“Sir. Indicator light showed ready for docking. Initiated docking procedure. Got no response. Confirmed with the Techs that the Cradle was ready. Reapproached. Didn’t look because they said the cradle was fucking ready. Sir. Not my fault their cradle is fucking busted.”

The techs were now looking at Tim like he was drunk.

“Alright, two points here. First, Staff Sergeant, I want you to review standard procedures for docking with a Third Succession War-era Mech Bay Cradle. Because unlike the ones we use in the Holdfast, they aren’t automated and don’t move on their own. They have to be preset for the Mech they’re going to be hauling.

“This leads to number two. Master Tech, does that Cradle look to be configured correctly for a Phoenix?” James demanded.

“No it does not. Height is about right, but the width is way the hell too narrow. Where the fuck is Fitzsimmons?” the Master Tech demanded.

“Uh, here Sergeant Major!” a young Corporal with Astech markings on his uniform and traces of acne on his face replied, one hand creeping up as though he wasn’t sure whether he should be raising it to catch attention or not.

“I recall sending out the correct measurements to configure these cradles, so why the hell didn’t you follow the damn directions?” The Master Tech demanded.

“I, uh, couldn’t find my compad, Sergeant Major. I swear I used the right measurements for a Phoenix Hawk, but that ain’t a Phoenix Hawk!” the young man responded, visibly sweating under everyone’s attention.

“No, Private,” the Master Tech bit out through gritted teeth. “That’s a fucking Phoenix, which, had you been paying attention, you’d fucking know has 5 tons on a Pixie! And as Sergeant Yellen just found out, is several meters wider at the shoulder.

“Now, while the rest of us fix this fuck-up you have the pleasure of reporting to the Captain precisely what happened and why we will be several hours late for our scheduled departure. Is that entirely understood, Private?”

“Yes, Sergeant Major,” came the hangdog reply

That out of the way, the Master Tech turned back to James.

“Apologies for the mess, Major,” he said, rendering the usual courtesy promotion shipboard.

“There’s enough blame to go around,” he dismissed the apology. “Now do you want any extra hands getting that arm repaired? It may have been a few years, but most of my people have worked with models like this before. We’re also more familiar with the gravity.”

The Master Tech had been preparing to refuse, but that made him visibly reconsider.

“I’d appreciate that, Major. In that case, could you-”

XXXXX​

Several hours later, their Union out of the atmosphere and boosting for rendezvous with her parent Jumpship on the way to Toland, James finally had a chance to have a meeting of the minds with Tim Yellen. As the man was entering his tiny closet of a room, James went over what he knew of the man.

Former LCAF. Quit after two tours. Honorably discharged. The man was a skilled pilot, and an artist with jump jets. Spent much of his career piloting a Phoenix Hawk and acting as a scout for the 26th Lyran Guard. Saw action several times on Tamar.

“Staff Sergeant, have a seat,” James invited. Since they were under thrust, he could have offered the man a drink, and might have under other circumstances. As things stood, that was too informal for the discussion that they needed to have. For that matter it had been quite a while since he needed to invite a subordinate to Office Hours, and it had been even longer since he’d earned a dressing down himself. He hoped he could hit the tone he was wanting to strike.

No fool, Yellen sat, but maintained a strictly formal bearing.

“Staff Sergeant, tell me the one thing that you could have done today to keep that whole fracas in the Mechbay from occurring,” he began the counseling session bluntly.

He could see the other man bristle, but he kept it under control. He’s also pretty clearly been thinking the situation over, because he had an answer already prepared.

“Sir, I saw what I expected to see: what looked like a Mech Bay Cradle in idle hold waiting to receive my Mech. When it failed to respond the first time as I approached, I should have stopped to wonder why instead of getting annoyed that it wasn’t working when I was told it would be ready for me. If I’d stopped to think, even if I hadn’t come to the right conclusion, it would have bought more time for one of the techs to realize my Mech wasn’t going to fit, or for Fitzsimmons to ask why they hadn’t sent a Phoenix Hawk.”

That wasn’t a bad answer, but it also wasn’t the one James wanted to hear. It spread responsibility around instead of taking ownership for the fuckup. And it was an event that could have been prevented. So he told the Staff Sergeant that.

“Not a bad answer, but I wouldn’t call it the right one, either,” James said. “What you should have done was not treat this like a day trip to the park.

“Because if we’re ever loading back up after a raid into the Combine and you fuck up like this, we’re going to have to either waste time manually tying your Mech down when we’re liable to have a Combine force on our tails out for blood. Or, more likely, we’re going to have to pull your Mech’s reactor safeties and leave the remains behind.

“This time there weren’t any serious negative consequences for being complacent, but you’re the pilot of a fifty-ton war machine. This time you missed a detail about the Cradle. Next time you might ‘miss’ one of the Astechs being where they shouldn’t be and turn a ‘crunchie’ into a casualty.

“You should know by now that the way accidents happen is not because of one fuck up, but because of a chain of fuckups. The best way to prevent an accident is to not participate. Don’t contribute to the chain.”

“Sir, yes, Sir,” the man responded stiffly.

James was tempted to address that, but the man was maintaining his professionalism. He could be pissed off as much as he wanted, as long as he listened..

“Dismissed,” James said and went back to working on the sudden increase of paperwork his new rank had afforded him, putting the incident out of his mind.

XXXXX​

A/N: Thanks again to Seraviel, Lordsfire, and Yellowhammer for beta reading, idea bouncing, and canon compliance checking. This chapter is vastly improved by their efforts.
 
Last edited:

PeaceMaker 03

Well-known member
To be fair, the Staff Sargent didn't try to pass the bucket fully, so that's a plus. On the other hand, cramped confines of a Dropship hangar is really a place where you have to be at top of your attention.
This is how Corporal Fitzsimmons learns to write SOP, with the Master Tech instruction.

SOP for new units on the Dropship to verify Mech Cradle Sizing, (MCS).
No SOP is dumb, but unthinking people in the military cause the SOP to be needed.

Speaker, great to see this story continue. Thank you for sharing your creation with us.
 

Speaker4thesilent

Crazed Deplorable
To be fair, the Staff Sargent didn't try to pass the bucket fully, so that's a plus. On the other hand, cramped confines of a Dropship hangar is really a place where you have to be at top of your attention.

I like the mistake with Phoenix/Phoenix Hawk. It's a small thing, that blows up into something more.

The fact that they're effectively bringing a design back, that nobody's seen in ages leading to confusion....


Nice.

I actually reviewed aircraft crashes for inspiration here. It is very seldom one serious problem that causes an airplane to fall out of the sky. Usually it is a combination of half a dozen or a dozen little mistakes piling up.
 

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