Cherry Blossom - Novella I in the Chronicles of the 69th VXF

Cherry Blossom

Chapter 1

Skye
Lyran Commonwealth
3038

"I want to be transferred to the Third Lyran, sir."

"Goddamn it, Sigil, I know what you're thinking. You think you're the first person to lose a brother in the Succession Wars?! For Kerensky's sake!" Sergeant Master Tech Anthem's eyebrows furrowed as he looked away shaking his head.

"Look, you're going to be up for Master Tech in two years tops. Master Tech in," Anthem lifted a calloused finger, "One...," his fingers continuing to raise one after another, "Two... Three... Four... Five. Five years. Master Tech in 5 years! You're goddamn gifted, Sigil, that's what you are! I can't even recall the last Tech I knew that made Master in 5 years and I know just about every Tech serving in the Lyran Guard. Hell, it took me 10!" The Sergeant ran his hand down from his forehead, pausing to rub his chin, eyes intent.

"Your work with targeting and tracking systems is the best I've ever seen." His hand dropped back down to rest on his desk as he paused for moment. "I think you could make Electronics Engineer, Sigil, I really do."

Pausing once again, Anthem's eyes sparkled as a grin crept across his mouth. "I've read your file, Sigil. The whole thing. Even the report of your time back in Sanglamore. Including the incident involving the Kommandant's Battlemaster."

He began to laugh. "Apparently, you recalibrated the laser optics so they all fired hot pink and programmed his battle computer to broadcast a farting sound whenever he fired the PPC! God, I wish I could have been there to see it!"

"And," Sgt. Anthem turned serious, "I also saw your gunnery marks, Sigil. Frankly, you suck. You washed out of MechWarrior training on Sanglamore and that's how you ended up on the Tech track."

Anthem shrugged. "With scores like that the best you could hope for is to be assigned to some backwater planet on garrison duty in an ancient Stinger." He spread his fingers wide. "Third Lyran, front line combat unit? Forget about it. Those guys are all vets or hotshots, not Techs who flunked Gunnery."

"I know what you're going through. The Dragon took your brother. You want to make them pay. But think about it. Wasting your talent on some meaningless assignment or charging off getting yourself killed isn't going to bring your brother back. It isn't going to do anything. Use your talents, son, don't try to be something you're not. I'm approving you for a month's R&R. Go home, see your parents, have a fling. Take some time. Think about it."

He handed Sigil a memstick.

---

Vega
Draconis Combine
3039

"What in Blake's Blood are you doing, Leutnant Sigil!?" Hauptmann Jason Henley's scowl was increasing by the second. Cables were snaking out in all directions from the salvaged remains of a Kurita Clint's cockpit.

"I'm hacking into the T&T system, sir. This thing still has the original Sloane 220 Lockover in it! Come on! You must have heard of it before! It's practically LosTech! Man, I've been freakin' dreaming of having a chance to play with one. Look at this sir! I knew it! They left the ballistics profile of the original Armstrong Buster AC/10 in here!"

"Leutnant, why do I have a bad feeling about this? I remember what happened the last time you were messing around with a T&T system. You jacked that salvaged Tek TruTrak into your Grasshopper and your entire 'Mech had to be rebooted! IN THE MIDDLE OF THE BATTLEFIELD! IN A HOT COMBAT ZONE! PUTTING YOUR FELLOW LANCEMATES AT RISK!"

The Hauptmann was about to go off like an ammo explosion of inferno rounds.

"Sir, just look at this ballistics readout on that old Buster! Notice anything odd?"

"Lt. Sigil, get back to your post immediately! That is a direct order. Nothing would please me more than to bust your sorry, scrawny butt back to Tech."

---

"Just look at this Weddle! Notice anything?" Sigil's eyes gleamed manically as his friend reviewed the readout on the tablet.

"Hmm, well, the damage curve at range? Looks like a good 90 meters more than a standard AC/10. Actually, looks almost exactly like a PPC curve now that I think about it except it doesn't drop off at close range."

"Scroll down and keep looking," Sigil was practically drooling.

"What's this curve?" Leutnant Jochen Weddle paused scratching his head and staring. "I did my elective at Sanglamore in Heavy Weapons. Looks like a cross between a PPC and a heavy autocannon. More damage than a particle beam, more range than a heavy autocannon. What is this?"

Sigil was beaming now. "I'm telling you, Weddle, I just stumbled across something that could change everything! I checked the serial number in the cockpit of that Clint we scrapped outside the depot. It's a freakin' CLNT-1-2R! They swapped the Buster 10 for an Armstrong 5 on the 2-3U. They only made 20 of the 1-2Rs, and, supposedly, all those left with Kerensky in the Exodus! This one must have had a field refit to match the 2-3U at some later point so no one knew the difference!"

"So? What does that have to do with this weird ballistics readout?"

"Don't you see!? That's the readout on the original Star League era Armstrong Buster AC/10! So get this, from what I can figure out, the Buster 10 actually has TWICE the rate of fire of a stock autocannon. That's what this strange curve shows. I mapped it all. Imagine you fired TWO rounds in the time it takes a standard AC to fire one round. But there's a catch, see. Just like missiles, both shots might not hit the target. You might hit with the first round but not the second, or, imagine this, you might hit with BOTH! It'd be like getting slammed by one of the PPCs from Hamilton's Warhammer, except it's coming out of the barrel of a 40-ton 'mech!"

Sigil whistled and grinned.

"Man, could you imagine what that would look like, or sound like?" Weddle laughed. "I'd hate to meet that on the battlefield. Everyone knows the Clint has paper thin armor and that little pop gun. When we took the depot, I practically ignored that thing, even the Jenner registered as a bigger threat. Imagine. WHAM! Taking two medium-heavy autocannon rounds to the rear. If that doesn't wake you up, it's because you're dead."

"I'm telling you, Weddle," Sigil's eyes filled with fervor, "I'm going to bring back the 1-2R. I downloaded the specs from the Sloane before the Hauptmann ran me off. The 1-2R didn't have the Andoran Model JJII jump jets. Everyone knows that. But what I suspect is that it had a 200 fusion engine, a Nissan I bet, not the Pitban 240. The Buster 10 weighed more and they would have had to double the ammo capacity to match the faster rate of fire too. Where else could have shaved weight from?"

Weddle started laughing. "You're freaking crazy Sigil. You're going to resurrect some old Star League Clint design nobody knows about, carrying some kind of LosTech autocannon no one's ever heard of before. You're a real piece of work. Speaking of battles, I hope the Hauptmann doesn't assign you to guard my flank in whatever mess you cobble together next. I saw your Grasshopper shut down when you tried to fire your first shot at the Second Legion. If I was Hamilton, I would have shoved my PPC up your ass to help you get moving."

Sigil glared back. "I've already put the word out that I'm looking for an Armstrong Buster 10. I think they might still make them on Bainsville,in the Free Worlds League."

---

"What!? You're salvaging the Clint for parts!" Shock was stamped on Sigil's face. "But,"

Hauptmann Henley cut him off with a look as hard as ferrocrete, the one they teach in Officer Candidate School that says resistance is futile.

"Leutnant Sigil, the gyro on that thing is damaged. It's missing its entire right arm and torso and the fusion reactor shielding is leaking. Don't play stupid with me. We both know the Clint wasn't built well from the start and finding spare parts is almost impossible. I can't have you in the lance riding around in some welded together tin can we can't field repair. And I don't care how good a tech you are. My decision is final. Deal with it."

Sigil narrowed his eyes cunningly.

"Don't think I don't know what you're thinking, Lt. And, might I add, it's dangerously close to insubordination. Go ahead. I've been looking for an excuse to reassign you. Make my day."
With that, Hauptmann Henley turned smartly on his immaculately polished boots and left the 'Mech bay, the sharp clicks of his precise military walk echoing off the walls.

Sigil turned back to the severely damaged 40-ton BattleMech with an audible sigh.

Lt. Jeff Hamilton's head popped out from around the side of a headless Shadowhawk two bays over.
"It's what a Hauptmann does. Crush dreams like an Atlas stepping on a Locust. Now stop wasting your time and get over here and help me rebuild this cockpit."

"Why is he always busting my chops!? It's like he's out to get me or something. I mean, HE is the one who got me assigned to this unit. My last commander told me the Hauptmann asked for me by name. Why would he do that if all he wants to do is chew me out and shoot down my ideas faster than a Spider sprinting for cover."

A conspiratorial look passed across Hamilton's face. "You didn't hear this from me, but," Hamilton edged closer as his voice dropped to a low whisper.

"Look at all the salvage we got from the attack on the supply depot." Hamilton's head motioned towards a Jenner, Panther, Clint, Shadowhawk, Griffin, and a towering Battlemaster, all tucked away in various 'Mech bays. "Sure, they're all trashed except the Battlemaster and the Shadowhawk, but the Hauptmann has a plan." A grin broke out across his face.

"See? All of us. Me, you, Weddle, and the Hauptmann? All of our tours of duty end this year. What are you going to do after? You going to re-up with the Guard? Head back home? Get a real job?" Hamilton was laughing now.

"Not me. I was MechWarrior before. I'm a MechWarrior now. And I'm going to be a MechWarrior until the Last JumpShip comes to take me home." Hamilton's eyes gleamed brightly in the dimly lit repair bay.

"Of course, to be a MechWarrior, you need a 'Mech." His eyes drifted meaningfully across all of the repair bays filled with salvaged 'Mechs.

"The Hauptmann is planning something. Smart money says he wants to start his own unit. Even smarter money says he's going to start it with this salvage right here." Hamilton crouched down as he continued, his voice barely a whisper.

"The Good Hauptmann Henley conveniently omitted the capture of these 'Mechs from his post battle report. I just happened to see a copy of it. Now, why would he do that I wonder? How incredibly un-Hauptmann-like don't you think?"

Not even the near darkness could hide the huge grin on Hamilton's face.

Sigil's mouth slowly formed into an "O" as his eyes widened into saucers. A few strangled mutterings escaped from his throat.

Hamilton nodded as he continued. "Mmhmm. And what does every good merc outfit need, besides 'Mechs?"

"Techs!" The word exploded from Sigil's mouth like flight of LRMs.

Hamilton stood back up. "Yep. Now get your scrawny butt up that scaffolding and help me rebuild that Shadowhawk cockpit."

---

"I knew it! Sure, I was off a bit here and there, but I nailed the basic concept! I'm going to download the memory core from that Clint's Sloane 220 targeting and tracking system and take it over there. I bet with the advanced diagnostic equipment they've got, they'll be able to pull out even more than I did. I'm telling you, there is a magic Clint configuration in there somewhere. And with a little help, and a bit of luck, maybe I can resurrect it. Man, Snord's got all the cool tech! By Kerensky, I'd work for them for free if they'd just give me access to their cache of Star League electronics! Thanks, man, for getting for me an in with them. Oh, and no need to mention it to the Hauptmann." Sigil's head bobbed up and down at Weddle in appreciation.

"Sure, Sig, no problem. Just let me know if you find out anything about that enhanced PPC I've heard rumors about. I'd love to surprise one of those pesky Second Legion Jenners with a PPC bolt at point blank."

Weddle walked away chuckling.

---

"LT. SIGIL! WHAT IN BLAKE'S BLOOD DO YOU THINK YOU ARE DOING!?" The Hauptmann's face was twisted with rage. "I GAVE YOU A DIRECT ORDER TO STOP WORKING ON THAT CLINT!" His face was slowly turning purple.

"Sir, You said...."

The Hauptmann was howling now. "DON'T TELL ME WHAT I SAID! I SHOULD BUST YOUR BUTT BACK TO PRIVATE AND ASSIGN YOU TO A COOLANT TRUCK!"

His gaze swept over the partially dissembled cockpit and the rat's nest of cables running from it into a nearby terminal. Taking a deep breath, he paused to smooth the creases out of his crisp Lyran Guard uniform.

"This is your final chance, Lt. Sigil. If I see you within LRM range of that Clint, the next thing you'll see is the inside of a military court. Is that clear?"

"But, Sir..."

"IS THAT CLEAR!?"

"Sir, if I could just..."

Suddenly, Lt. Weddle's voice came from across the 'Mech Bay. "Hauptmann, sir. The Rhonda Irregular's liaison officer requests to speak with you. She's in the conference room now."

The Hauptmann snapped a vibroblade sharp 180 degree turn and with his back turned towards Sigil, said "Clean this mess up. Report to my office at 18:30."

His boot falls echoed with a thump like mortar rounds as he exited the repair bay.

---

Captain Deb H'Chu was lounging comfortably in the conference room. Her Star League uniform, one of the strange affectations of the Irregulars, was a surprise to anyone who'd never dealt with the Irregulars before. The only thing keeping it from being an exact replica was their unit insignia, an ancient terran quarter-dollar coin. As the Hauptmann entered, she slid her boots off the table and stood up.

"Hauptman Henley. Thank you for meeting with me so promptly. I was just getting comfortable. I know how most House Units like to keep us mercs waiting."

She chuckled and continued. "I'm sure you're familiar with the reputation of Rhonda's Irregulars, both our obsession with collecting interesting antiquities and our issues following the traditional chain of command. It's quite refreshing to meet another commander with similar proclivities."

She smirked.

The Hauptman pulled a chair out from the conference table and sat down, giving the Captain a disinterested look.

H'Chu walked over next to him, sitting on the edge of the conference table causally.

"We had a Boomerang in your area. I watched the holovids of your engagement with the Second Legion. Frankly, we expected the worst. Your heavy lance against a company of Kurita veterans." She paused whistling.

"The chance for success was minimal. The Guards were just going through the motions to support our assault on the capital. Rhonda had her command lance on the way as soon as she had your drop coordinates to finish the job. That supply depot had to be taken to secure our flank before we could assault New Egypt proper."

She flashed the Hauptman a crooked smile. "Of course, by the time Rhonda got there, your lance was in full possession of the depot and the field was littered with a company worth of Second Legion 'Mechs. Mission accomplished. Give my compliments to the Awesome pilot. He's one serious ace. I saw the vid of him taking the head off that Hunchback just as the engagement began and then watched those triple PPCs cut down 'Mech after 'Mech from the bluff he'd stationed himself on."

She looked at the Hauptman curiously. "The one thing that struck me as funny was the 'Hopper pilot, though. Looked like his 'Mech shut down early even though it was cool as ice on the IR sensors. I'm not sure I saw him land a single shot during that entire engagement."

She laughed. "And talk about tactics! When most of the remaining Second Legion 'Mechs shifted their fire to the Awesome, he charges off, scraps a Panther with a kick to its torso and then jumps into the middle of the lake, exposing his rear to more than a lance of enemy 'Mechs! And all to take the heat off his lancemate! Blakes Blood! He couldn't jump back out since the JJs are in the legs! Looked suicidal to me, but it got the job done."

She was laughing freely now. "I don't think he managed to get out of that lake until the battle was over!"

The Hauptman regarded her coolly. "Captain, if your purpose inviting me here was to congratulate me, I was just doing my job. Hauptmann-General Harbaugh gave me an assignment. I executed it to the best of my ability. If that is all, I have other duties requiring my attention."

H'Chu looked away and sighed, then fixed the Hauptman with a steely gaze. "Ok, fine. I'll get straight to the point. You have something we want and we have something you need." Reaching into her back pocket, she slid a tablet toward Henley.

"It's your after action report. There is a peculiar omission in it, Hauptman." She came down hard on his rank. "Would you like me to tell you what is it?" Now, she smiled sweetly.

The Hauptman glanced down at the tablet, his eyes narrowing as his face tightened.

She continued sweetly, "You've got an entire 'Mech bay filled with 'Mechs that don't officially exist. Normally," she tossed her raven black hair back and laughed, "We wouldn't care. Hell, it reminds me of something Rhonda would do herself! But, it so happens that one of them is a Star League prototype CLNT-1-2R and we want it."

Henley looked up from the table, his face expressionless. "Interception of classified House communiqués is a Class 2 offense punishable under the Mercenary Review Board. You could lose your AAA rating."