BattleMech Proving Range
Port St. William, Veracruz Continent
Coventry
New Commonwealth
13 August 3036
The previous weeks were not kind ones for Prince Thomas. The leaking of the Heir's Kiss, as some pundits called it, denied him any hope of privacy on the matter with Johanna, and that in turn seemed to him to be driving her away. She never showed at her usual time on the range anymore, and his handful of communications went unanswered.
Now he was to return home. His mother was being given a new coronation and title and he would be present, like all his siblings and family members. And while there were months left on Coventry, the mere presence of a time limit weighed on him.
For focus as much as anything else, he took Liberator out on its paces. The Royal SLDF Black Knight was as tough as ever, especially on the firing range where Thomas pushed it hard enough to send the heat into the red zone.
"Are you trying to cook yourself, you maniac?"
The voice drew his attention not just to how he was overheating his machine, but to the icon on his sensors. Sure enough, a Zeus was stomping its way up to a firing position on the range. He let his finger relax on the triggers and felt the coolant coursing through the lines of his AFFM cooling suit, in strong contrast to the heat baking the interior of his cockpit. "I push sometimes," he said. "You have to in battle. How are you, Johanna?"
"Chin deep in paperwork for the last month," she answered. "And Her Excellency the Ambassador insisted I try to avoid you. She's worried about the political ramifications from that damn holo."
"I'm not aware of any," he said, "but I imagine Donegal is different?"
"It is. There are many Steiners back in Donegal who aren't happy with either of us. They're afraid you're giving my brother a stronger chance to claim the throne when Raquel passes on. That he'll get Arcadian support for taking control, even if Raquel doesn't officially restore his claim." The Zeus fired a pair of energy weapons, extended range. A blue laser beam and bolt of cerulean lightning washed over one of the target vehicles, melting armor and structure plate to leave it less of a vehicle and more of a particularly misshapen modern art project. "They're recalling me for re-assignment. I leave tomorrow."
Thomas felt like he'd taken a punch to the gut. "I…" I have even less time than I'd imagined I would…
"I was angry at both of us. At you, for not stopping me from leaving, and at myself for not asking you to," she continued. "Maybe something could have happened then. But it didn't, and things are as they are now. I don't know where I'm going when I get home, but if you wish to reach me, I can make arrangements with ComStar for a contact code."
"I… I would appreciate that very much, Johanna," he said. The heat in his cockpit was gone now, and all he had left was the chill of the sweat on his skin. "I just wish we could have been ourselves together for a little longer."
"Yes. You're one of the few men I've met to treat me as I'd like to be treated," she said. "Game for a shooting competition? The loser buys our goodbye meal at the officer lounge."
Despite himself he grinned at that. "Offer accepted."
He'd never been happier to lose.
Thomas brought Liberator back into its spot in the borrowed New Commonwealth 'Mech hangar. The MechTechs were Arcadian at the insistence of SIS, and were quick to secure his machine into its gantry and raise the elevator up to him. The sergeant in charge of the half-dozen techs, Sergeant Ravalomanana, saluted him at the hatch and he saluted back. "We'll give it the usual check, sir," she said in an Uhuran Malagasy accent. "Anything wrong?"
"Nothing on the run. I really pushed the heat scale with the weapons, though, so you may want to flush the coolant and give the heat sinks an extra check."
"Yes sir, we'll get to it," she promised. "And Captain Proctor is here, sir, waiting for you."
"Oh? I'll see what he wants then."
She nodded and clambered into the hatch, leaving him to hit the key to lower himself to the ground. He took a moment to glance at his machine before hearing the footsteps that told him Mark was likely approaching, and indeed Mark was, wearing a red duty uniform in contrast to the red cooling suit BDUs Thomas still wore. Given their environment Mark saluted and he saluted back. "Captain."
"Major." Mark glanced about at the various machines present. The Arcadian military presence on Coventry was all staff, but a few of the nobility among the staffers had machines that they were allowed to bring with them as conditions of their service. "I've been making our arrangements. Given the timing we won't return home in time to go to that wedding on Oriente, there's simply not enough time, but we should get back to prepare for the ceremonies… what's wrong?"
Thomas cursed himself for letting his attention slip, much less letting it go so far that his brother noted it. "Nothing of import, I imagine."
"Ah." Mark smiled sadly. "Lady issues?"
"Johanna has been recalled. She's returning home tomorrow." He started walking towards the door to the MechWarrior facilities within. "I'm treating her to a goodbye meal."
"But nothing more, hrm?"
"No," Thomas said firmly. "It's not the right time. For her, there have been political ramifications."
"Ah. Those. Well, I know what that's like." Mark's eyes cast up to a nearby Fusilier. It was one of the older models built in the late 30th Century, probably granted to a noble's son for service and now a family machine. The colors wern't familiar, implying they were family colors and not AFFM regimental. Thomas saw the need in his brother's eyes. "Service politics means my implants will keep me from a 'Mech, and the usual politics ensured nothing could be done between me and Anne-Marie. Honestly it makes me wonder what I'll do with my life."
"Plenty of other young ladies, I imagine."
"But not a "Mech. Never again on that, unless you're going to give me Liberator."
"Wish I could help you there, Mark, but Liberator stays with the heir." Thomas grinned at him. "I suppose if we were Donegal Steiners I just set myself up for you to stab at some point."
"Don't even joke, brother," Mark grumbled. "I don't want that to come about. I just… I want it again. I want to scratch the itch I feel in my head. To feel a 'Mech under my feet again, moving, running across the countryside…"
"I know, brother, but the regs are the regs. Even Mum couldn't do anything about that easily. You'd be better off going to Solaris and seeing about fighting in the arenas."
Thomas expected a chuckle from Mark at the suggestion, given how ludicrous it was. Therefore he was slightly perturbed to see the thoughtful look on Mark's face. "I was joking, Mark, you know they'd never let you fight. The social scandal lone… and no fighter wants your death on his hands, so you'd never get a match."
"I suppose not," lamented Mark. "Either way, let's get you to your meal, and then we get back to work. We've got to get the staff ready for our replacements."
"That'll be done easy enough." With that they came to the entrance to the locker room. Mark stopped. "I'll be out shortly."
"I'm heading back to the office," said Mark. "Enjoy your final meal with Her Ladyship."
"I hope to," he answered before the door closed behind him.
