Battletech Welcome to the Jungle

Lancelot

Well-known member
Four or five jumps of a logistics circuit would be nuts. One or two makes more sense but finding them if the SLDF didn't already nuke them requires a detailed search of several dozen planets at least. There is no way he has the jump ships, people, or time for that. The LC might but unless he finds something that tells him such a thing is out there it would likely be considered a total hailmary not worth the effort.
 

PeaceMaker 03

Well-known member
My guess was the subtle handover of Weber's ancestor's journal to LIC/ Katrina.

Weber and friends did not find anything in the journal, but the journal may contain the right tidbits for LIC to figure out another location.... Or narrow it down to a few locations.

LIC might know an old SLIC technology for encrypting information hidden in the journal. A lot of plot bunnies in the journal still if Speaker needs them for his BT crack.
 

Speaker4thesilent

Crazed Deplorable
Feel free to just say you don't want to answer, but I'm making an assumption here. Amaris would need most if not all of the manufacturing processes for the materiel stored on Catachan to be kept relatively close, say within four to five jumps max, preferably one or two just for ease of logistics, especially since this seems to be a pre-coup site and he would want SLIC to fuck off before he killed the Camerons and took over.

Would the rest of the Catachan manufacturing "cell" be close enough for Weber to move final assembly to the hold if he could locate it? One or two jumps out wouldn't be too awful to check out when their jumpers have spare time (hah!).
Sore wa himitsu desu.
My guess was the subtle handover of Weber's ancestor's journal to LIC/ Katrina.

Weber and friends did not find anything in the journal, but the journal may contain the right tidbits for LIC to figure out another location.... Or narrow it down to a few locations.

LIC might know an old SLIC technology for encrypting information hidden in the journal. A lot of plot bunnies in the journal still if Speaker needs them for his BT crack.
Well, yes, but also no.
 

Satorious

Active member
I think he focused more on the work ‘appears’ in my statement. Theoretically, hiding a research center from aerial observation isn’t too hard.
Of course finding the thing would be hard enough on a shall we say more pleasant world, that kept better and open records. After a few centuries, the records of the facility probably hidden and Catachan having such interesting creatures? Yeah unless Weber digs up a map or gets very lucky he is not finding the thing.
 
Chapter 28

Speaker4thesilent

Crazed Deplorable
Chapter 28​

Weber’s Holdfast, Catachan, Catachan System
Trellshire, Tamar Pact, Lyran Commonwealth
April 7th, 3016


By the time I woke up the day after the jump, most of the consternation from Comet’s announcement had been processed. That left me in the delightful position of feeling like I was the only one stressing out over it.

Still, there was only so much free time in even one of Catachan’s days and wasting it wondering whether it was the Combine, pirates, or ‘pirates’ that had finally tracked us down wasn’t productive.

Nor was hoping that they hadn’t noticed anything odd. My people on the station had spotted the incoming Jump signature and told everyone to go quiet just in case, but that didn’t do anything about signals already floating around in the ether. The thought that they wouldn’t have noticed defied belief. I couldn’t even jump to Steelton to use the one-time pad I had been given, because that was to summon reinforcements in the event of an attack.

Really, the good news, such as it was and what there was of it, was that the regular shuttle running people and supplies out to the Ring Factories had been docked at the time, so they should still be secure.

Therefore, the best solution to the problem was to get busy. I certainly had enough things that needed doing.

I was still in a foul mood even before one took into account that I was out of shape for Catachan’s gravity. Morning PT had been done on the Implacable, landed for once, and the extra gravity had made the process rather more strenuous than what I’d been doing on our little trip. I’d even ended up with some contusions on one shin where I had failed to entirely miss a coaming on one of the later jumps.

After a quick shower, I’d corralled a truck driver for a ride up to the old Government House. Positioned on the topmost terrace on the south side of the pass, the whole surface of the terrace was given over to an Executive Mansion and several smaller buildings for different governmental departments: police, power, water, sewage, and the like. There was also a single fancy courthouse that we’d already mostly restored. We didn’t have a lot of problems, but we’d needed the jail in the basement for a Drunk Tank, if nothing else.

I’d been living out of the CO’s quarters in the Warriors’ base for the last few years, and been far too busy to worry about the remainder of the disused buildings on the seventh terrace.

Now, however, I was going to have to move in for the same reasons that I would have had to give up my Commando when I inherited the Company: people had expectations, and the local Duke was supposed to live in a residence worthy of his august self. At least I had a domestic staff to handle the fiddly bits there. I had not the least idea of all the minutiae that went into the upkeep of a mansion, except that there was more of it than merely a house writ large.

Maybe I should have watched Downton Abbey back when my mom and sister were obsessed with that show? Either way, there was nothing to be done about it now. I’d just have to learn as I went.

As I walked in the front doors, I had to sidestep a pair of servants carrying the moldering remains of what had once probably been a fancy sofa. Despite looking to be in good shape, both were huffing and puffing under Catacahn’t heavy gravity. Taking mercy on them, I held the door open for them, and made sure they didn’t come to any harm negotiating the stairs. They set the ruined furniture down beside a pile of similarly damaged remnants of the previous owner and leaned over their former burden sucking for air.

“Are you two staying hydrated?” I asked, seeing how drenched they were.

The one glanced up, got a good look at me, and froze. The other actually answered the question.

“Yeah, they’ve got drinks set out in the kitchens, but good heavens! Glad we-hrrk!”

Well, he was answering the question until he turned around and saw who I was.

“I need to go have a conversation with your supervisor. There’s a reason we give new arrivals time to acclimate,” I decided.

“Ah, we, uh, that is,” the first man began. When I failed to bite his head off, he took a deep breath and tried again. “We’re only on half days, Your Grace.”

With Catachan’s week organized into six long days, the work week on-planet was four ten-hour days. I did some mental math and frowned.

“You started at, what? Nine?” I asked, guesstimating based on the size of the salt rings on their shirts.

“We were scheduled to begin at eight o’clock local time, Your Grace, but there were some delays getting started. We didn’t actually begin until about half past.”

Undoubtedly delays like, ‘you aren’t supposed to be here for another week.’ I concluded.

“Well, it’s hardly your fault that they weren’t ready for you to start until half an hour after your shift began,” I said as I checked my watch. It was coming up on noon, which seemed a good enough time to me, especially considering that I wasn’t actually anticipating getting any work out of these people for another five days.

“Four hours is the absolute most I can countenance under the circumstances. Find your supervisor and relay to them that I said no more than four hours work for anyone until they’ve had a chance to become accustomed to the heavier gravity, and if he or she disagrees they can take it up with me,” I pronounced. At least this part of the song-and-dance I knew the rules to. It was the 2IC’s job to be the bad guy so the CO could step in and be reasonable, thereby earning his soldiers’ affection. Presumably it worked the same for a nobleman’s staff.

The couple of workers -Footmen, maybe?- seemed grateful in any case. That probably meant I was going to need to have a conversation with my new Butler about working the staff too hard.

The Lyran Commonwealth was very traditional when it came to domestic staff: the rule was that the Butler was in charge of managing the rest, and a good one was seen as a requirement for a working household. The one I’d hired came highly recommended, but he might have been a little bit set in his ways.

A few words here and there to the other staff members as I encountered them served to both spread the word and narrow down where my new Butler was located.

To his credit, he certainly appeared to be working as hard as any of the rest when I caught up with him: his formal jacket was nowhere in evidence and revealed that old-fashioned suspenders still had a place in the Far Future of the Inner Sphere. He wasn’t as bad-off as some of the rest which was impressive given his age, but he was still showing signs of strain.

“Mister Owens, a word if I may?” I asked in a tone that stopped short of implying the answer had better be ‘yes’ but only by degrees.

“Of course, Your Grace,” the man replied, his English bearing only the faintest hint of a Tharkad German accent. “Miss Aston, please ensure that an order is placed for suitable linens. These were of poor quality even before the years wore on them. James, please ensure that the kitchens are ready with their report,” and just like that the man had cleared out anyone who might overhear, all without giving any hint of how tired he had to be. Given my earlier PT, just walking around at a normal pace had me feeling like I’d just finished a brisk jog; stubborn discipline had to be the only thing keeping him on his feet.

“I told everyone to knock off work for the day,” I began, trying not to feel annoyed. This man was supposed to be making my job easier, not harder. “I shouldn’t have had to give that order, because this wasn’t supposed to be a work day. Why did you feel the need to change that?”

“Two reasons, Your Grace,” Owens said. “First, I needed to know just how much of a problem the local conditions were going to be, and second I needed to know if any of the staff weren’t going to be able to cope. It’s also better for discipline and cohesion to keep the domestic staff quartered where they will be working. It avoids distractions and will allow them to get settled into a routine more quickly.”

I took a deep breath. The second part of that I could wrap my brain around: it wasn’t that different from keeping troops away from civilians when there might be friction. The first, however, was just dumb.

“In reverse order, I can understand wanting to get everyone settled and even wanting to get a grasp on who’s going to be trouble and who your good workers are going to be, but there’s a reason we give FNGs a week to acclimate; you’re lucky you didn’t have any serious injuries from people pushing themselves too hard to meet perceived expectations.

“When we first arrived back in 3010, we had several people overestimate how much they could lift or carry safely with the gravity being the way it is. A Tech who knew his job and knew his limits under Icar’s gravity tried to carry a part that was too much for one person when it’s weight was increased by almost a quarter. He didn’t stop to think, and he was too embarrassed to ask for help when he started to realize he’d bitten off a bit more than he could chew. He tried to make it ‘just a few more steps’ instead of setting the damn capacitor down and calling an Astech over to help lift it. End result,: not only did an expensive piece of military equipment get dropped and damaged, but the Tech in question ended up on light duty for months while his broken foot and strained back healed.”

I gave that a moment to sink in.

“We have developed a system that works: we give people temporary quarters so they don’t have to worry about unpacking everything right away. Their first ‘work day’ is spent assembling cheap furniture so that they can get a visceral sense that shit is just plain heavier here than they’re used to, and so that when they inevitably break something it’s cheap-ass wood veneer furniture instead of something important.”

I bit off what I was tempted to say before I raised my voice or insulted the man and took a deep breath.

“I understand that you are accustomed to managing a staff and doing so with minimal oversight. I presume that, like a skilled NCO, you are accustomed to not needing instruction or supervision from interfering, busybody ‘Officers.’ I won’t try to micromanage you, but please be willing to take advantage of the institutional experience we’ve developed. Reinventing the wheel is just going to end with members of the staff on the sick list.”

“Apologies, Your Grace, it won’t happen again,” the man said stiffly.

Your Grace I could really get to dislike that title.

I didn’t think I’d mortally offended him, but Mr. Owens’ composure was good enough that I couldn’t really get a read on how he was feeling.

“Then I’ll say nothing more on the matter,” I concluded. Hopefully visibly getting out of his hair and not hovering would send the right message.

Now, I’d already spent more time here than I’d been expecting, and I had a meeting that I really didn’t want to be late to.

XXXXX​

Zoe Jasper normally looked good for a woman in her mid-40s, but today she’d clearly been crying. Moreover, Emma, Bruce, and Allison were clustered around her almost defensively, all looking grief-stricken and bewildered. Making it through a military operation and only sustaining one casualty sounds wonderful, until you’re confronted with his widow and his children.

Right at the moment, the fact that we had only lost one person was even more heartbreaking. Everyone else was celebrating a great victory while this single family was in hell.

“Ho-” Zoe began and had to pause to clear her throat. “How did it happen?”

I didn’t think that knowing would help much, but the councilor I’d asked for advice from on Tharkad had recommended acceding to the family’s wishes.

“Spalling,” I answered simply, then, after a heartbeat’s consideration, elaborated. “The doctors tell me he probably never even realized what had happened. A handful of LRMs came in on a steeper angle than he expected, and hit his Banshee’s head armor just wrong.”

The information generated another round of tears, more or less as I’d expected, and this time the kids, ranging from twelve to sixteen were pulled in as well, faint hopes that the message was wrong, that something had been misunderstood, fading away as I answered. Their pastor stepped closer and laid his hands on Zoe and her youngest daughter, Allison’s backs.

I wanted to continue, to tell her that we’d made the Dracs pay more than tenfold, but really what would it change? Doug was still dead. At least his kids were all old enough to have firm memories of him. They wouldn’t be stuck with a picture on a wall or a desk, but that was hardly compensation for what they’d lost.

In the end, I just stepped forward and pulled the whole miserable cluster into a hug as best I could, wishing there was more that I could do. That I had a miracle for them.

But this wasn’t that kind of universe. All I could do was creatively interpret some traditions to make sure they were looked after and didn’t want for anything material.

XXXXX​

A couple days later, I borrowed the old RWR recording and transmission infrastructure to make my first ever public broadcast. Things had changed a lot for Catachan, and the people I was now responsible for deserved to hear about it from the horse’s mouth.

“As many of you have heard by now,” I began, fighting my instincts to keep my head still. I’d been told that managing that was the single most important part of looking good on television, whether that was in two or three dimensions. “Weber’s Warriors succeeded in the mission we were hired to accomplish. The world of Sevren is back in the hands of the Commonwealth and the Sword of Light cut and ran rather than face us head on.”

There was an audience, seated on rows of folding chairs in the half of the hangar we’d emptied out. They applauded.

I waited for silence before continuing.

“In spite of the importance of preventing Tamar from being encircled, that probably isn’t the important part of our recent deployment to most of you.”

Tamar was, after all, far away, and it had been under threat for decades. Politics were, ultimately, local.

“As you know, the Catachan Arms Corporation was shipping out the first new-production of our Phoenix BattleMech for testing. I am pleased to report that the Archon herself was present for the acceptance trials on Sudeten, and tha-”

There was another roar of approval from the audience. The Steiner dynasty was surprisingly popular, even among worlds out on the edge of the Periphery, and knowing that our little enterprise was important enough to draw her personal attention had definitely gotten people excited.

I waved the cheers down, but I smiled while I did it.

“Now, now. I haven’t even gotten to the good part,” I chided pleasantly. “As I was saying, the news of two new BattleMechs, both incorporating advanced technology, was enough that Archon Steiner diverted from her intended tour of the Tamar Front to inspect the proposed designs.”

I paused to take a sip of water. Even if part of the people watching knew what the answer must have been, there was always the chance that something had gone wrong or that the budget couldn’t handle such a sudden expense. As a result, they still wanted to actually hear the words and I was milking the pause for all it was worth.

“She has committed to the purchase of every single Phoenix that walks off our assembly lines,” I announced, and again the crowd went wild. This didn’t just mean job security for them, but given the enduring nature of megacorps in the Inner Sphere, their children and their childrens’ children. It took a little longer for the crowd to calm down this time, but I didn’t have anywhere pressing to be for once.

“And when she heard that we already had another factory under construction, she said the LCAF would be happy to buy all of those too!”

It didn’t get quite the level of approval my last statement had; a paycheck in hand being worth much more than a nebulous promise about the future, but there was still cheering and whistling.

“Part of the deal was that Archon Steiner wanted to ensure that Catachan would formally join the Lyran Commonwealth. While on Tharkad, I was sworn in as the first Duke of Catachan.”

That got cheers too, which I’d been told to expect, but still sort of blew my mind. Back in the 21st Century, me going off to make a sale and coming back a nobleman would have been considered a gross betrayal, conflict of interest, and quite possibly treason. In the 31st it was cause for celebration.

People who wanted stability saw the nobility as a guarantee that traditions and institutions would be preserved from generation to generation. Ambitious people saw my elevation as proof that in the Lyran Commonwealth, there was no glass ceiling: that anyone with skill, drive, and a little luck could rise in station and prestige on their own merits.

For people who’d had the corruption and voter fraud that ended the Terran Alliance etched bone-deep, the nobility were the guarantors of their freedoms, not a limit upon them.

Even having lived in this universe for more than half a decade now, that still made my brain hurt.

The applause once again wound down.

“As such, I shall be leading the effort, along with the existing City Council, to formalize a government in line with Lyran custom. Due to Catachan’s position as a critical military asset, it has been declared a Closed Military System. As such, our future government will draw heavily on Hesperus II’s for inspiration.”

And thank heavens for that brainstorm. Julia had saved me a hell of a lot of effort in trying to reinvent the wheel. It wasn’t perfect; Hesperus was unabashedly a Company Store with a government attached. But it was a proven place to start.

“With that example to build from, we can’t go too far wrong,” I concluded that part of my address to more applause.

“I’m glad I’ve got you all in a good mood, because this next bit might not be so popular,” I warned the viewers, only half-joking.

“With a Landhold: people and infrastructure to protect, the Mercenary lifestyle no longer seemed suitable. As such I petitioned the Archon to permit Weber’s Warriors to transition to a House unit. That petition was approved, and they are now listed as the First Catachan Harquebusiers, the first such advanced unit accepted on the LCAF’s rolls.” Applause was cautious at first, but as two copies of the new unit heraldry dropped from the rafters it began to pick up. The Catachan Antlion skull seemed to have been a good choice.

That left only the last part. It was the one thing I hadn’t intended to do tonight, but which Julia insisted absolutely had to be done once she learned about it. My instincts said she was nuts, but I already knew I didn’t grok this Neo-Feudalism shit.

“I’d like to say that was the end,” I said, “that my first address as Duke of Catachan is over with nothing but good news for us as we step into the future.

“Unfortunately, the universe is rarely so kind. Mrs. Jasper, would you and your children join me?”

The crowd grew quiet. Many of them were part of the unit and knew the particulars, but many more were present because they’d been first in line to request tickets when the event was announced. Even they, however, knew that we hadn’t gotten off of Sevren scott free and sensed the change in tone.

The remaining members of the family were stoic. They’d agreed to appear so that Doug could be recognized. As they formed up around me, grief still raw, I spoke again.

“I would like to request a moment of silence for Doug Jasper,” I said, and lowered my head. The silence wasn’t absolute, but, with the thick walls of the Star League era construction, it was close.

After a handful of seconds, I lifted my head and spoke.

“Doug Jasper was part of my Command Lance, my last line of defense in case of ambush or disaster in the field. As a Duke I have many privileges. I also have obligations.”

Those statements were absolutely true, they just weren’t technically connected. By a literal reading of the rules, I hadn’t been Duke of Catachan until I swore my oath to Katrina in the Triad. On the other hand, I wasn’t the sort of person that split hairs like a lawyer or politician.

“As he fell in my defense, it is my obligation to see that his family is honored for their sacrifice. While nothing can compensate them for his loss, I have a duty to make the attempt.”

I pressed the button I’d had the techs install on the inside of the lectern I was using. Behind me, the curtain blocking off the rear of the hangar swung open, and spotlights illuminated the one piece of salvage I’d demanded from Sevren.

I could have taken the Awesome, but none of my Techs had any experience with that ‘Mech. We could also have sourced material for repairs to one of the Battlemasters from THI, but that would have taken time and I preferred the symbolism of the ‘Mech I’d chosen in any case.

A TDR-6S, painted in gunmetal grey loomed over the stage. My Triumph had stopped at Sudeten on the way back home and purchased four spare limbs, then the Techs had done the conversion from a -5S on the trip back. It was, in point of fact, the first such BattleMech to be privately owned by anyone whose last name wasn’t Steiner.

Zoe’s hands were cupped in front of her mouth, and tears streamed down her face. Emma, who’d actually inherit the BattleMech just looked poleaxed.

Owning a BattleMech was a Big Deal. The hard power of such an asset spoke for itself, but in many ways the soft power was even more impressive.

If Emma wanted to go to the Nagelring, ownership of a ‘Mech meant that her application would be placed ahead of an equally qualified student who didn’t own one. If she applied to any other academy in the Commonwealth, it was all but a guarantee that she’d be accepted.

Owning a ‘Mech meant more and better training opportunities: not having to wait for simulator time or permission to borrow a Trainer.

It meant social deference. Until I got around to assigning formal patents of nobility, the Jaspers were now effectively the second most highly ranked people on the planet as part of the Inner Sphere’s de facto warrior nobility.

What I’d just done was the equivalent of a medieval Duke elevating a long-serving retainer to knighthood. And it clearly meant the world to the Jaspers.

That it was an invaluable political statement shouldn’t have been a consideration, but it was. And as much as I hated the idea of using a tragedy for my own gain, I was doing it. Because Julia was right. This was going to set the tone not simply for my time as Duke, but for every Duke or Duchess of Catachan that followed me.

It was a statement: Yes, there are perks to being in charge. There are also prices to be paid for all of them.

Same as being an officer. Mission, men, me.

And in service of that …

As the crowd went insane, I stepped away from the microphone and leaned close to speak to Emma who was still gaping at her new ‘Mech in disbelief.

“I know your dad was working with you on how to be a Mechwarrior. Next Monday, meet me outside the main hangar, and I’ll do what I can to help.”

“T-thank you,” the teen, still choked up but obviously grateful, replied.

I suppose that settled the question once and for all. If his own family didn’t feel like I was cheapening his sacrifice, then I suppose my 21st century instincts really had been way off base. No way around it, I was going to owe Julia an apology.

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.
 

Knowledgeispower

Ah I love the smell of missile spam in the morning
also here we see Weber slowly but surely being on his way to being a great boss for his domestic staff. And given visiting nobility is going to be rare he can basically say hang the rules of decorum as related to him being the duke a good chunk of the time
 
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Simonbob

Well-known member
also here we see Weber slowly but surely being on his way to being a great boss for his domestic staff. And given visiting nobility is going to be rare he can basically say hang the rules of decorum as related to him being the duke good chunk of the time
And, possibly pissing off his new butler, who runs his household.


Owning a BattleMech was a Big Deal. The hard power of such an asset spoke for itself, but in many ways the soft power was even more impressive.

In a very real sense, giving somebody a battlemech is a little like giving them a 100 million dollars worth of land. It means that, unless they're really terrible at economics, they're always going to be fine.


(Seriously, there have been calculations, to estimate the value of a battlemech, and a top end one? Roughly 100 million US dollars. Serious gift, there.)
 

PsihoKekec

Swashbuckling Accountant
As I walked in the front doors, I had to sidestep a pair of servants carrying the moldering remains of what had once probably been a fancy sofa. Despite looking to be in good shape, both were huffing and puffing under Catacahn’t heavy gravity. Taking mercy on them, I held the door open for them, and made sure they didn’t come to any harm negotiating the stairs. They set the ruined furniture down beside a pile of similarly damaged remnants of the previous owner and leaned over their former burden sucking for air.
Too bad about having to act like a responsible Duke, as throwing broken furniture out of the window or over the balcony is fun.

End result,: not only did an expensive piece of military equipment get dropped and damaged, but the Tech in question ended up on light duty for months while his broken foot and strained back healed.”
Not to mention microtears in ligaments and musculature that quickly add up.

And, possibly pissing off his new butler, who runs his household.
Nah, he is a butler and supposedly good one, so presumably he understands that each employer has their own way of running things and is used to adapting to them (but also running things around them, albeit not to extent that Alf Stokes did)
 
A Proper Reward for Services Rendered VI

Yellowhammer

Well-known member
A Matter of Proper Reward for Services Rendered VI

(A Welcome to the Jungle canon sidestory)

En Route to Jump Point, Tharkad System,
District of Donegal, Protectorate of Donegal, Lyran Commonwealth
March 17th, 3016


Julia Steiner leaned back in her chair and rubbed her eyes.

Fortunately, the amount of truly critical LCAF paperwork coming across her desk was less than what she had handled while inbound from Tharkad. Sarah, bless her heart, was also doing yeoman’s work to sift through the chaff for the wheat that Julia would need to tend to directly. Finally, it seemed that House Troop Liaison was still chasing their red-tape tails with the sudden shift in the status of Weber's Warriors -- which likely meant that the inevitable blizzard of forms and reports would eventually track them down on Catachan.

That had given Julia time to work on her extreme-priority personal project over the last four days of cram sessions fueled by gourmet coffee (since she had taken the opportunity while on Tharkad to stock up on Zimt-Röstung Kaffee from Chahar Custom Coffees), which she was willing to swear was heaven in her mug when you added a dash of whipped cream.

With a happy smile, she savored the last of her liquid bliss while reflecting on her private arrangement with Yas. Dobless would be sending periodic regular shipments of CCC vacuum-sealed grounds to Catachan for her drinking pleasure along with Alistair’s data. And there would be a proper coffee machine shipped for her new home’s kitchen.

She really wasn’t human before her third cup in the mornings some days, and it wasn’t an addiction since she could stop anytime.

She owed Yas a debt that she could never repay for introducing her to the pinnacle of Kaffee during their First Year together at the ‘Ring.

Still business before pleasure.

Once more she looked at the computer screen showing the summaries of the data on humanity’s history in setting up colonies to spread throughout the stars.

The successes… and the failures. The warnings of the past.

She sighed and muttered to herself. “Alistair won’t like this. Time to beard the troll in his lair.”

With that she copied the data, annotated by her comments, to a data drive. After a moment of thought, she picked up an ancient book bound in blue leather with the Steiner Fist on the cover, checked the bookmarked passage, and then nodded to herself.

--------------------------------------------------​

“Alistair, we need to talk.”

Alistair looked down from the Mechbay’s gantry to see Julia, clad in one of her normal Mechwarrior jumpsuits, looking up at him from the deck.

“Well, that sounds ominous. Just a second!” He shouted back from where he and a Tech were examining a leaking radiator assembly on Shiroyama’s left shoulder and nodded to the other man.

“Write it up so that when we get to Catachan we can get Shiroyama torn open to see if there’s additional internal battle damage. Good catch, and we have time to do it right now.”

With that he took the lift down to where Julia was waiting. “What’s the crisis now?”

She glanced at the other technical crew. “Not here, we need to talk in privacy.”

Alistair followed her to the compartment that was serving as his office. He then raised an eyebrow when she locked the door before taking the seat bolted to the deck on the other side of his desk.

Julia took a deep breath. “Just hear me out please. I’m sorry that I didn’t speak to you at the time, but I knew that I didn’t know enough to make the correct call then and it wasn’t a time-critical decision. So after we talked, I did some thinking about your plans for Catachan to try to blow holes in them so that we can fix the weak points in our one chance to get it all right.”

She blew out a breath and her shoulders slumped. “You see, I’m trained to operate within an existing cultural political structure. If you dropped me down on… oh say Chahar in Yas’ place... I’d easily identify the key people in the existing power structure: nobility, business leaders, religious leaders, militia commanders, etcetera, etcetera. Then I could work with them to get what I need to get done without stepping on any cultural toes like hosting a pork barbecue potluck at Sarah's synagogue for example. That's much like if you got assigned to command a different regiment since you can look at the OrgChart and immediately know what officers you need to establish a working relationship to get things done, right?”

He nodded. “Makes sense. And this is a problem because…?”

Julia sighed. “Catachan has none of that established. It’s being colonized by immigrants from Steelton and Toland, Weber’s Warriors, Olivetti’s techs, the experts running the robots that Great-Aunt Lisa will be sending from Gallery, and Kerensky-knows-what-else. So rather than just budding off as a homogenous culture like the Scots-Irish culture on Terra gave us Skye and then other daughter colonies from Skye like Glengarry, Catachan has a mix of wildly different cultures that will have to be blended into something healthy, stable, and self-sustaining without them tearing each other apart. They’re all Lyrans -- I hope! -- but that’s a lot of cultural ground.

“For instance if Yas was publicly seen walking around as a friend beside me on New Capetown we could get lynched by some of the hardline neo-Calvinists there because we are from ‘different races’ -- that’s one of their ugly little cultural quirks. Notwithstanding that she’s got a Steiner in the family tree four generations back, they would look at my skin color and hers and make a snap judgement.”

With that, she leaned forward to pin him with one of those intense gazes. “You haven’t done research on how to set up a colony and the history of the expansion through the Inner Sphere, have you, Alistair?”

He shook his head, a look on his face that said he was feeling rather dumb about that.

“Never even considered it. And here I thought I’d gotten over the urge to do everything myself.”

Julia grinned triumphantly.

She then pulled out a data drive from a pocket and slid it across the desk. “More homework that I can share with you. I leaned hard on Dobless to give me a curated data dump of the studies done on the Exodus so I could start picking through it for candidates so we don’t reinvent the K-F Drive. Here’s my very preliminary summary and notes on some candidates for historical colony political systems to look at implementing or modifying to suit. I also leaned hard on Daddy to headhunt the top half-dozen or so academic specialists in this field, slap them with my kroner until they saw sense, and pack them off to Catachan to serve as advisors to the Duke so we don’t hit any of the known pitfalls in the critical early stages of colony development while forming the basic institutions.”

“Why the hell didn’t I think of that?” He asked with an annoyed look on his face that turned into a boyish grin after a moment. “Thanks, Julia, this will make the whole process easier.”

She then leaned back and drummed her fingers on the cover of the book that she was carrying. “That might be the easy part of this chat, I fear.”

He gave her a look. “Easy?”

She sighed. “Yes. Easy. I know you won’t like this part, but hear me out. You know that Aunt Katrina dispatched me to be, if I can use the blunt political analysis here, a visible sign of her favor and a reward for services tendered to the Lyran Commonwealth and House Steiner. Including, but not limited to, the Catachan Data Core which is literally priceless.”

He frowned. “I hate it when you put it in those terms.”

She nodded. “I’m not too happy about using the description myself. But I bring it up this way to highlight a key lesson that I learned and you will have to follow to keep Catachan stable. Namely that loyalty visibly has to flow down as well as up. That brings me to the point. Doug Jasper-”

Alistair raised a hand to interrupt. “Yeah. I’ve got a plan. That TDR-5S I picked up as salvage. I gave orders for the Philip Sheridan to stop off at Sudeten on the way back home. They should be well on their way to installing a set of Endosteel limbs and converting it to a -6S by now. His family will be taken care of,” he said, looking melancholy.

That … would actually be very good optics, Julia thought to herself. The gift of any BattleMech was a significant symbol, but the gifting of a cutting-edge Heavyweight with the sort of reputation that a Thunderbolt enjoyed as his first actions was sending a public message by setting a precedent of noblesse oblige that even an inexperienced neophyte like Alistair couldn’t miss. Or bungle.

“Good. I just needed to make sure you understand, since you weren’t born to this.” Julia gave a relieved grin. “It’s very suitable too. Want me to look over your plans when we arrive on Catachan, since I’m probably the closest thing you will have as a speechwriter and political analyst until Daddy or someone sends more reinforcements for us to fill out a staff?”

“That’d be really helpful, Julia. Thanks,” he responded.

Julia left the office feeling relieved. She hadn’t expected Alistair to accept that politics would have to enter the picture so readily.

--------------------------------------------------​

Weber’s Holdfast, Catachan, Catachan System
Trellshire, Tamar Pact, Lyran Commonwealth
April 8th, 3016


Scheiße!!” Julia stared in horror at her copy of the planned ‘first Ducal address’ schedule and speech that had just been emailed to her. “Dieser Dummkopf!

A speech that had a major glaring oversight at even the most casual first glance.

She looked over toward Sarah, who was studiously ignoring her profane outburst from her position at the other desk in her office. “I need to talk to Alistair ASAP, Sarah. Can you hold down the fort here until I get this straightened out?”

“Of course, Ma’am” Sarah said calmly. “Do you wish me to notify him that you’re coming in?”

Julia shook her head. “Nein. I’ll call him personally. I need to cool down so I don’t snap at him.”

Sarah cocked her head. “Should I get the car, Ma’am?”

Julia shook her head. “I’ll jog home. I… need to work some things out. Have the car pick me up at home for the meeting.”

“Of course, Ma’am.” Sarah’s voice was knowing. “I’ll see you when you get back in.”

She was unsurprised when her jog was ‘coincidentally’ joined by Patrick, Alistair’s new redheaded, freckled, taciturn, and very muscular valet.

Considering that she had previously noticed in the dropship's gym that Patrick had a kicking donkey bicep tattoo, which was the crest of the Second Royal Guards, she suspected that his presence was another gift from Aunt Katrina and/or her mother in a conspiracy that had been hatched when she had helped Alistair hire additional staff for Catachan from the list that Sarah had prepared.

After all, then-General Katrina Steiner had led the Pride of Skye shortly before becoming Archon.

Fortunately (for a change) the heavier gravity of Catachan was working in her favor as she jogged the mile and a half from the administrative offices to her new home while wearing a pair of ten pound weighted gloves on her hands that she was using to punch the air aggressively.

It gave her a chance to work her anger and fear out productively rather than by throttling a certain stubborn, stupid man. This was just the sort of thing no one would call her out on or gossip about. Clearly the House Troops Liaison Officer was simply working on her fitness rather than her temper.

With one last practice combination, she staggered up to the door, drenched in sweat, but feeling a little more clear-headed.

She should have known that he had agreed too easily and that it was too good to be true. But no, she had clearly heard what she had wanted to hear and so had Alistair.

So she would have to address things head-on and pray that she could keep him from making a major mistake.

Or blowing up their relationship when she had to explain the facts of political life to him.

--------------------------------------------------​

Julia took a deep breath as she waited to be ushered into Alistair’s presence. Her fingers drummed the hardcover book with the blue silk ribbon bookmark from her Catachan library (which had mainly been plundered from the Furillo Steiner Townhouse library, thank goodness for her impulse to raid the shelves for books to tide her over until her personal collection could be shipped from Furillo) in one of her nervous habits that Mother had never been able to break her out of.

Finally she was shown into Alistair’s office. She gave him a smile as he stood. “Julia, this is unexpected. What’s wrong?”

She glanced commandingly at the footman and waited until he closed the door and departed before heading to the conversation nook in the corner to sit across from Alistair. “It’s the speech. It’s good to a point with what it does, but there’s a serious fundamental problem with it that we’ll have to address and fix. Just please promise me that you’ll listen to what I’m saying and why I’m saying it first?”

He frowned. ”Right. I can do that.”

Julia’s finger drumming on the book’s cover sped up. “If someone performs services above and beyond the call of duty for Catachan and Duke Weber, they have to be visibly rewarded to strengthen the bond between ruler and subject. And the key word in that sentence is ‘visibly,’ not ‘rewarded.’ Symbols matter, which is why you’re talking privately face to face with the most eligible Steiner bachelorette of my generation with only cousin Melissa and maybe cousin Lisa as my competition for overall standing once they mature. Because showing up with me on your arm at the Triad to be made a Duke showed to all and sundry -- and not just the nobles, that ceremony was broadcast Commonwealth-wide -- that Alistair Weber performed far above and beyond the call of duty as a ‘commoner’ and was therefore being publicly suitably rewarded for that in an act of good rulership from Aunt Katrina. As I have said, I’m glad that you are a good man, and a good friend, and if the choice was totally and freely mine I’d have pursued you as a husband on those grounds. But there is necessarily a certain level of political calculus in everything I -- and now you -- do because of my birth and your ennobling.”

“I don’t see where you’re going….” He replied with a puzzled look on his face.

“I know that and I want you to know that I’m not taking this communication problem personally.” She reassured him -- and she wasn’t at least, not now after she had cooled down a little. “I’m sorry that I’ll have to address it this way, but trying to be subtle didn’t work.

“You plan to give the Jaspers that Thunderbolt privately, yes? You, them, a couple techs perhaps, in a few days?”

He paused at the sudden change in topic. “Yes. That’s the right thing to do for them.”

She leaned forward and spoke in an unyielding voice with her best serious stare. “I’m sorry, but no it’s not. You’re going to need to make a public statement on their behalf. He sacrificed his life in battle fighting to protect you. That has to be rewarded equally significantly in a public ceremony.”

He flinched back from her suddenly harsh tone, then seemed to actually hear what she’d said and turned red. “Like Hell I will!! I am not dragging a grieving family up on stage to be a glorified prop for how wonderful I am! How could you suggest that?!

Julia bit the inside of her lip to help keep herself from biting Alistair’s head off, patiently waiting for his angry emotional outburst to run its course.

She didn’t particularly like what he was implying about her, but she was able to sit on her own temper ruthlessly thanks to years of self-discipline rather than returning fire to escalate this argument. That really would be a major mistake.

She mentally reminded herself that he was almost certainly mad at what she represented rather than her personally. He better… well… maybe not buy me flowers afterward -- Catachan’s flowers probably dissolve human skin -- but buy me dinner as an apology once he fully processes this lesson though.

Besides, she had predicted that this kind of blow up would happen and it wasn’t as bad as she had feared. Which was a point in his favor, honestly, she needed to know the man under the mask when he was at his worst. She then privately resolved that the next time that she needed to blow off her anger during a sparring session with the heavy bag, that she’d invite him over to watch her vent her verbal and physical fury on it -- if it didn’t have his dopey face mentally plastered on it. Fair was fair, after all.

She then sighed deeply once it was clear that he was waiting for an explanation instead of taking a breath to further vent his spleen at her.

She spoke in a calm, level voice. “You’re a good man in a difficult position, but this is necessary work, Alistair. I’m genuinely sorry that I have to be the one to teach you this, especially this bluntly. Unfortunately, we don’t have a choice any more than Katherine Steiner did in 2408. I hope you’re willing to concede to me that Katherine Steiner was a better politician and better at stabilizing a state and founding a dynasty than both of us piled together along with the rest of Catachan to boot, yes?”

His jaw clenched for a moment and he took a deep breath as she spoke, but he eventually nodded.

“Yes….”

Since Katherine Steiner had founded the modern Lyran Commonwealth and firmly established the dynasty which had ruled for six centuries, she was very much an Elder Stateswoman in the Commonwealth. She was remembered in the same breath as Ian Cameron or Augustus Caesar. And Alistair was no dummy. He knew that this was a verbal trap, but he couldn’t see the shape of the jaws yet.

“You may recall her eulogy for her beloved husband Alistair Marsden from school?”

He shook his head.

“Before my dad died, I wasn’t actually a very responsible person,” he admitted.

She … honestly couldn’t picture that. Tempting as it was to chase down that tidbit, she was acting as his advisor first in this argument, and if she was going to be his advisor she owed him good advice.

After that moment of consideration, she handed the book over. “This is a copy of her memoirs and diary: the family-only uncut version of them. The ‘definitive versions’ that you can pick up in bookstores all over Tharkad for seventeen kroner in hardback have been edited a bit more aggressively by House Steiner’s publisher. Fortunately, I borrowed this book from my townhouse’s library on a whim since my personal printing is back in my study on Furillo.” She gave him another, albeit lesser, intense stare. “I marked a relevant page and if you promise me that you won’t spread the contents around, I’ll let you borrow it from me so you can read the whole thing.”

Visibly curious, he opened it and read out loud the handwritten message on the flyleaf. “To my boy Helmar, happy twelfth birthday and may this wisdom guide you... Daniel Steiner.” He looked at Julia with a clear question.

Hauptmann Helmar Steiner was my grandfather Raymond’s brother. He died during the first wave drop that liberated Skondia in 2984.” Julia answered quietly. “It’s traditional for we Steiners to be gifted copies of this book and some other relevant family journals, memoirs, and diaries on the birthdays around our majority by our parents or guardians as part of our coming of age celebrations. Some of us hand our copies down from generation to generation in our wills and the like. I haven’t decided yet if I’ll do that for my children.”

He nodded then opened the book to the marked page.

26th February 2408

I dread the arrival of dear Alistair’s body on Tharkad. To know that my beloved departed me to fight the Combine, and shall never return as he was, full of life and joy to take our son in his hands for the first time tears my heart asunder.

And yet, when I look out my window at the winter snows, I see our nation mourning too.

The Archon has fallen and ambitious nobles and generals gather like vultures to tear at the newborn Commonwealth. If he did not love the Commonwealth more than life itself, he would not have left my side to lead his men in battle to defend our freedoms, and if I did not love the Commonwealth equally deeply I would not have allowed him to depart.

What can I do?

If I do nothing, at best we shall have rule by brutal warlords such as the Mariks and especially the Kuritas; his older brother Archon Robert Marsden was proof of that, for he truly was ‘The Crusher’. And yet, something must be done to set the example for our nation, our people, to set them in a course that will be more than savage brutality and base will to power. To establish the Commonwealth that Alistair and I dreamed of.

Therefore, what must I do?


The printer had copied over an inkblot and noted that there were tearstains here in the original diary in this space between the paragraphs above and the next entry.

I must stand as a symbol of the losses and regrets of war, to channel our energies away from brute conquest and set the road that I, my son, and his children shall follow. Just as Pericles turned the passions of Athens away from the rote praise of war and conquest to something greater in his funeral oration for the Peloponnesian War’s dead, I must set the tone in such a way that all who follow in my footsteps shall follow my role of defensive war and liberation rather than the self serving ‘right of conquest’ that House Kurita claims.

Pericles….

Very well, I shall prepare a public eulogy for my dead husband fit to shake the heavens.

Forgive me Alistair, but you must serve one last role before you can peacefully depart the stage. I must shall pay the price in my private guilt and hidden tears for our love. But I have no other choice to satisfy the demands of that which we both held dearer than life itself.


He looked at Julia. She spoke very quietly and somberly. “There’s a reason that we still teach excerpts from her eulogy for Alistair Marsden in schools and it’s still studied as a masterpiece of oratory. She demonstrated with it that the Steiners care for their people, understand the terrible costs of war, and are willing to spend ourselves to serve and lead our subjects. Despite the fact that, as you just read, it broke her heart all over again to have to make the funeral of the man that she loved very deeply and truly into a media spectacle to accomplish that end.”

She leaned forward with a deep sigh. “You will need to do the same so your children and their children will follow through in your intentions of House Weber being good servants and stewards first and foremost: rewarding those who gave of themselves for Cactachan, the Commonwealth, and your House. I’m sorry that I have to be the one to say this, and I know that you hate even the idea of it, but this will set the example for your dynasty here just as much as Katherine Steiner did for us by publicly mourning her martyred husband -- or Shiro Kurita did by massacring all his rivals in the Council of One.”

She paused and drew a deep breath. “You need to reward the Jaspers for Doug’s valor. The Battlemech that you have selected is perfect: it’s prestigious, it gives your subjects something to aspire to, and sets the tone for the culture you want Catachan to have. But if no one sees the award, it might as well not have happened; it must be done publicly! Both with a live audience and holovision so those unable to attend directly can witness it. So generations from now, people can watch it and not have to wonder what people thought. They can see it. Experience it. And in doing so, know what your intent was.

“That way when, inevitably, someone who doesn’t share our ideals and is more about the perks than the work of nobility takes over Catachan in the future, he or she cannot wreck what we are going to build here because our people have your public example of how to act that will check their ruler’s excesses. In this sort of thing, seeing really is believing.”

He grimaced, but after a long moment exhaled and gave a nod. “I’d really prefer that you were wrong, but I can’t say that you are. This blows goats, but we’ll do it your way.”

She made a matching sour face as much to conceal her reaction to that delightful turn of phrase as anything else. “I agree that it sucks for you. It is, however, a necessary role as we dance to the tunes demanded of us as symbols of something larger than ourselves. It is the reason that Caesar Augustus’ last words were ‘Acta est fabula, plaudite.’ after establishing the Roman Empire to stand for the next four and a half centuries with a legacy throughout history that reaches even to us today.”

She then translated the Latin for him. “The meaning is: ‘Have I played the part well? Then applaud as I exit.’”
 
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PsihoKekec

Swashbuckling Accountant
Ah the clash of mindsets from different eras. For all Julia knows Alistair is simply a man not versed in the ways of nobility and politics, but the gulf is much deeper than she can imagine, as he comes from a very different culture and also being very private person.
 
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This blows goats, but we’ll do it your way.”

She made a matching sour face as much to conceal her reaction to that delightful turn of phrase as anything else.
Does the phrase has specific connotations to a Lyran or Steiner or is it just delightful in the general sense speaking as someone who only got into battletech two years ago and only really knows about stuff around the 4th Succession War.
 

Yellowhammer

Well-known member
Chapter 28

I've been waiting for this one. Great stuff as always Speaker, now my spaghetti observations and commentary.

By the time I woke up the day after the jump, most of the consternation from Comet’s announcement had been processed. That left me in the delightful position of feeling like I was the only one stressing out over it.

Still, there was only so much free time in even one of Catachan’s days and wasting it wondering whether it was the Combine, pirates, or ‘pirates’ that had finally tracked us down wasn’t productive.

Nor was hoping that they hadn’t noticed anything odd. My people on the station had spotted the incoming Jump signature and told everyone to go quiet just in case, but that didn’t do anything about signals already floating around in the ether. The thought that they wouldn’t have noticed defied belief. I couldn’t even jump to Steelton to use the one-time pad I had been given, because that was to summon reinforcements in the event of an attack.

Really, the good news, such as it was and what there was of it, was that the regular shuttle running people and supplies out to the Ring Factories had been docked at the time, so they should still be secure.

Yeah so at least one potentially hostile faction knows about Catachan. Fun times ahead!

I was still in a foul mood even before one took into account that I was out of shape for Catachan’s gravity. Morning PT had been done on the Implacable, landed for once, and the extra gravity had made the process rather more strenuous than what I’d been doing on our little trip. I’d even ended up with some contusions on one shin where I had failed to entirely miss a coaming on one of the later jumps.

To be fair, he's not alone in the pissies. Julia's first thoughts on seeing the reality of Catachan probably can't be printed or said in polite company. The gravity sucks and the wildlife isn't much better.

After a quick shower, I’d corralled a truck driver for a ride up to the old Government House. Positioned on the topmost terrace on the south side of the pass, the whole surface of the terrace was given over to an Executive Mansion and several smaller buildings for different governmental departments: police, power, water, sewage, and the like. There was also a single fancy courthouse that we’d already mostly restored. We didn’t have a lot of problems, but we’d needed the jail in the basement for a Drunk Tank, if nothing else.

I’d been living out of the CO’s quarters in the Warriors’ base for the last few years, and been far too busy to worry about the remainder of the disused buildings on the seventh terrace.

Now, however, I was going to have to move in for the same reasons that I would have had to give up my Commando when I inherited the Company: people had expectations, and the local Duke was supposed to live in a residence worthy of his august self. At least I had a domestic staff to handle the fiddly bits there. I had not the least idea of all the minutiae that went into the upkeep of a mansion, except that there was more of it than merely a house writ large.

Maybe I should have watched Downton Abbey back when my mom and sister were obsessed with that show? Either way, there was nothing to be done about it now. I’d just have to learn as I went.

Yeah, he has to play the role of Duke Alistair I, Ruler Of The Hungry Jungle here and he's not happy about it thanks to a bad case of imposter syndrome.

As I walked in the front doors, I had to sidestep a pair of servants carrying the moldering remains of what had once probably been a fancy sofa. Despite looking to be in good shape, both were huffing and puffing under Catacahn’t heavy gravity. Taking mercy on them, I held the door open for them, and made sure they didn’t come to any harm negotiating the stairs. They set the ruined furniture down beside a pile of similarly damaged remnants of the previous owner and leaned over their former burden sucking for air.

“Are you two staying hydrated?” I asked, seeing how drenched they were.

The one glanced up, got a good look at me, and froze. The other actually answered the question.

“Yeah, they’ve got drinks set out in the kitchens, but good heavens! Glad we-hrrk!”

Well, he was answering the question until he turned around and saw who I was.

Brains. Blown.

The good news for him is that the staff will rapidly figure out that he's a decent human being and not a fan of the bowing and scraping, along with them knowing that he recently got elevated. Allowances will be made.

Although I suspect a common topic of Household gossip in the future will be statements starting with "You won't believe what the Duke just did/said..."

“I need to go have a conversation with your supervisor. There’s a reason we give new arrivals time to acclimate,” I decided.

“Ah, we, uh, that is,” the first man began. When I failed to bite his head off, he took a deep breath and tried again. “We’re only on half days, Your Grace.”

With Catachan’s week organized into six long days, the work week on-planet was four ten-hour days. I did some mental math and frowned.

“You started at, what? Nine?” I asked, guesstimating based on the size of the salt rings on their shirts.

“We were scheduled to begin at eight o’clock local time, Your Grace, but there were some delays getting started. We didn’t actually begin until about half past.”

Undoubtedly delays like, ‘you aren’t supposed to be here for another week.’ I concluded.

“Well, it’s hardly your fault that they weren’t ready for you to start until half an hour after your shift began,” I said as I checked my watch. It was coming up on noon, which seemed a good enough time to me, especially considering that I wasn’t actually anticipating getting any work out of these people for another five days.

Again, you can expect this little chat to be the topic of discussion at the nearest watering hole and among the staff. At a minimum the word will get out that Alistair I cares about his folks.

As a side note, Julia has worked the system a little more smoothly with her staff (both extant such as Sarah and the ones she newly hired on Tharkad/is getting sent from Furillo). She has given orders to keep the factiod that she's high nobility on the QT for now since she wants to cosplay as simple Hauptmann Steiner of the House Troops Division for the 'getting to know you' phase of forming relationships with the keys to her power on Catachan without playing up her ties to the Archon and significant place in the family hierarchy. (This is also a gambit to see who is plugged in and alert enough to figure it out on their own and try to snow or brown-nose her)

At least this part of the song-and-dance I knew the rules to. It was the 2IC’s job to be the bad guy so the CO could step in and be reasonable, thereby earning his soldiers’ affection. Presumably it worked the same for a nobleman’s staff.

The couple of workers -Footmen, maybe?- seemed grateful in any case. That probably meant I was going to need to have a conversation with my new Butler about working the staff too hard.

The Lyran Commonwealth was very traditional when it came to domestic staff: the rule was that the Butler was in charge of managing the rest, and a good one was seen as a requirement for a working household. The one I’d hired came highly recommended, but he might have been a little bit set in his ways.

Technically Sarah Ishikawa is serving as Julia's Lady-in-Waiting (the female equivalent) although this is of course more of an internal promotion of a vassal rather than Julia hitting Craigslist for candidates. This was also nice to highlight the frictions Alistair has while he adjust to the rank and how Julia is doing so just like breathing, compare this conversation to the later one between Sarah and Julia where Julia blows her lid and how that is mostly implied and wordless (it helps that Sarah or her aunt may have literally changed Julia's diapers).

“I told everyone to knock off work for the day,” I began, trying not to feel annoyed. This man was supposed to be making my job easier, not harder. “I shouldn’t have had to give that order, because this wasn’t supposed to be a work day. Why did you feel the need to change that?”

“Two reasons, Your Grace,” Owens said. “First, I needed to know just how much of a problem the local conditions were going to be, and second I needed to know if any of the staff weren’t going to be able to cope. It’s also better for discipline and cohesion to keep the domestic staff quartered where they will be working. It avoids distractions and will allow them to get settled into a routine more quickly.”

I took a deep breath. The second part of that I could wrap my brain around: it wasn’t that different from keeping troops away from civilians when there might be friction. The first, however, was just dumb.

I really do like Owens and I think Alistair got a good one here. Also, unless he acted to cut her out, Julia would have helped with the vetting and might have done her own private interview of him and the rest of the senior administrative staff.

I bit off what I was tempted to say before I raised my voice or insulted the man and took a deep breath.

“I understand that you are accustomed to managing a staff and doing so with minimal oversight. I presume that, like a skilled NCO, you are accustomed to not needing instruction or supervision from interfering, busybody ‘Officers.’ I won’t try to micromanage you, but please be willing to take advantage of the institutional experience we’ve developed. Reinventing the wheel is just going to end with members of the staff on the sick list.”

“Apologies, Your Grace, it won’t happen again,” the man said stiffly.

Your Grace I could really get to dislike that title.

Yeah, initial frictions, but again, Owens knows that His Grace is new to the job. If Julia finds out (which she probably will through Sarah) will subtly act to unruffle feathers as needed.

The staff is almost certainly damn sure that Julia is the front-runner to be the Duchess at this point with no real competition in sight (another subject of gossip and a classified betting pool among the staff).

Now, I’d already spent more time here than I’d been expecting, and I had a meeting that I really didn’t want to be late to.

Nice pointed showing that he's not just upset with the work, but also dreading this coming meeting.

Zoe Jasper normally looked good for a woman in her mid-40s, but today she’d clearly been crying. Moreover, Emma, Bruce, and Allison were clustered around her almost defensively, all looking grief-stricken and bewildered. Making it through a military operation and only sustaining one casualty sounds wonderful, until you’re confronted with his widow and his children.

Right at the moment, the fact that we had only lost one person was even more heartbreaking. Everyone else was celebrating a great victory while this single family was in hell.

Poor Alistair, he's a good man doing one of the hardest things for anyone to do.

The information generated another round of tears, more or less as I’d expected, and this time the kids, ranging from twelve to sixteen were pulled in as well, faint hopes that the message was wrong, that something had been misunderstood, fading away as I answered. Their pastor stepped closer and laid his hands on Zoe and her youngest daughter, Allison’s backs.

Yeah. This is rough on him, and justifiably so.

In the end, I just stepped forward and pulled the whole miserable cluster into a hug as best I could, wishing there was more that I could do. That I had a miracle for them.

But this wasn’t that kind of universe. All I could do was creatively interpret some traditions to make sure they were looked after and didn’t want for anything material.

This by itself puts him int he top... 50% maybe top 20% of Inner Sphere nobility.

A couple days later, I borrowed the old RWR recording and transmission infrastructure to make my first ever public broadcast. Things had changed a lot for Catachan, and the people I was now responsible for deserved to hear about it from the horse’s mouth.

**pops popcorn**

“As you know, the Catachan Arms Corporation was shipping out the first new-production of our Phoenix BattleMech for testing. I am pleased to report that the Archon herself was present for the acceptance trials on Sudeten, and tha-”

There was another roar of approval from the audience. The Steiner dynasty was surprisingly popular, even among worlds out on the edge of the Periphery, and knowing that our little enterprise was important enough to draw her personal attention had definitely gotten people excited.

I waved the cheers down, but I smiled while I did it.

As you will see later on, the Steiners earned this popularity the hard way through their deeds and have worked equally hard to stay on top of the Commonwealth to the point where they are the state in the eyes of their subjects. And Katrina's widely agreed by the majority of Lyrans to be one of the better Steiners (a compliment that Julia might hear down the road which will warm her heart is 'she's a younger Archon/just like the Archon').

“Now, now. I haven’t even gotten to the good part,” I chided pleasantly. “As I was saying, the news of two new BattleMechs, both incorporating advanced technology, was enough that Archon Steiner diverted from her intended tour of the Tamar Front to inspect the proposed designs.”

I paused to take a sip of water. Even if part of the people watching knew what the answer must have been, there was always the chance that something had gone wrong or that the budget couldn’t handle such a sudden expense. As a result, they still wanted to actually hear the words and I was milking the pause for all it was worth.

“She has committed to the purchase of every single Phoenix that walks off our assembly lines,” I announced, and again the crowd went wild. This didn’t just mean job security for them, but given the enduring nature of megacorps in the Inner Sphere, their children and their childrens’ children. It took a little longer for the crowd to calm down this time, but I didn’t have anywhere pressing to be for once.

“And when she heard that we already had another factory under construction, she said the LCAF would be happy to buy all of those too!”

It didn’t get quite the level of approval my last statement had; a paycheck in hand being worth much more than a nebulous promise about the future, but there was still cheering and whistling.

Yeah some very good news for CAC and Catachan in general.

“Part of the deal was that Archon Steiner wanted to ensure that Catachan would formally join the Lyran Commonwealth. While on Tharkad, I was sworn in as the first Duke of Catachan.”

That got cheers too, which I’d been told to expect, but still sort of blew my mind. Back in the 21st Century, me going off to make a sale and coming back a nobleman would have been considered a gross betrayal, conflict of interest, and quite possibly treason. In the 31st it was cause for celebration.

People who wanted stability saw the nobility as a guarantee that traditions and institutions would be preserved from generation to generation. Ambitious people saw my elevation as proof that in the Lyran Commonwealth, there was no glass ceiling: that anyone with skill, drive, and a little luck could rise in station and prestige on their own merits.

For people who’d had the corruption and voter fraud that ended the Terran Alliance etched bone-deep, the nobility were the guarantors of their freedoms, not a limit upon them.

Even having lived in this universe for more than half a decade now, that still made my brain hurt.

Yeah, here's one of the disconnects. They now have a new Duke who cares about them and is working on their behalf. Alistair's coming from the 21st century when that kind of loyalty to a person and noblesse oblige is foreign to him, while to Julia (who would be watching this from the crowd) this is the normal state of things. He performed for his people so he has earned the right to be elevated above them, just like water is wet.

“As such, I shall be leading the effort, along with the existing City Council, to formalize a government in line with Lyran custom. Due to Catachan’s position as a critical military asset, it has been declared a Closed Military System. As such, our future government will draw heavily on Hesperus II’s for inspiration.”

And thank heavens for that brainstorm. Julia had saved me a hell of a lot of effort in trying to reinvent the wheel. It wasn’t perfect; Hesperus was unabashedly a Company Store with a government attached. But it was a proven place to start.

“With that example to build from, we can’t go too far wrong,” I concluded that part of my address to more applause.

Yeah, Julia's really helping him out here. I do predict that this is the fruit of some vigorous discussions between Alistair and Julia on the trip here as they hashed the framework out.

Unfortunately, since about the only damn reason for anyone to come to this death world in the foreseeable is the CAC factories supplying gear to the LCAF, he's going to get a de facto Company Store setup like it or not since if Catachan Arms sneezes, the planet catches COVID. This is just making official what is in reality since even the independent businesses like the local bar & grill rely on kroner generated by CAC and spent by CAC workers to stay afloat. The exception is Argent Maple sales and the like, which will probably be pushed as a status symbol by Julia specifically to prevent CAC doing what Defiance did.

(One other subtle point here which may have escaped Weber is that by bringing up Hesperus II, he's delivering the message of how important they are to the Commonwealth since everyone knows abotu Hesperus II being the beating heart of their survival. I smell a Julia edit on his speech there for that line.)

“With a Landhold: people and infrastructure to protect, the Mercenary lifestyle no longer seemed suitable. As such I petitioned the Archon to permit Weber’s Warriors to transition to a House unit. That petition was approved, and they are now listed as the First Catachan Harquebusiers, the first such advanced unit accepted on the LCAF’s rolls.” Applause was cautious at first, but as two copies of the new unit heraldry dropped from the rafters it began to pick up. The Catachan Antlion skull seemed to have been a good choice.

As seen here, this is a necessary step to stabilize the planet. Julia will be clapping along of course.

That left only the last part. It was the one thing I hadn’t intended to do tonight, but which Julia insisted absolutely had to be done once she learned about it. My instincts said she was nuts, but I already knew I didn’t grok this Neo-Feudalism shit.

Yeah, as seen in my piece this was the subject of a nasty argument between them to sell it to Alistair.

“I’d like to say that was the end,” I said, “that my first address as Duke of Catachan is over with nothing but good news for us as we step into the future.

“Unfortunately, the universe is rarely so kind. Mrs. Jasper, would you and your children join me?”

The crowd grew quiet. Many of them were part of the unit and knew the particulars, but many more were present because they’d been first in line to request tickets when the event was announced. Even they, however, knew that we hadn’t gotten off of Sevren scott free and sensed the change in tone.

The remaining members of the family were stoic. They’d agreed to appear so that Doug could be recognized. As they formed up around me, grief still raw, I spoke again.

This was rough to do on Alistair, and it shows here.

“Doug Jasper was part of my Command Lance, my last line of defense in case of ambush or disaster in the field. As a Duke I have many privileges. I also have obligations.”

Those statements were absolutely true, they just weren’t technically connected. By a literal reading of the rules, I hadn’t been Duke of Catachan until I swore my oath to Katrina in the Triad. On the other hand, I wasn’t the sort of person that split hairs like a lawyer or politician.

“As he fell in my defense, it is my obligation to see that his family is honored for their sacrifice. While nothing can compensate them for his loss, I have a duty to make the attempt.”

Yeah, and here it comes.....

Zoe’s hands were cupped in front of her mouth, and tears streamed down her face. Emma, who’d actually inherit the BattleMech just looked poleaxed.

Owning a BattleMech was a Big Deal. The hard power of such an asset spoke for itself, but in many ways the soft power was even more impressive.

If Emma wanted to go to the Nagelring, ownership of a ‘Mech meant that her application would be placed ahead of an equally qualified student who didn’t own one. If she applied to any other academy in the Commonwealth, it was all but a guarantee that she’d be accepted.

Owning a ‘Mech meant more and better training opportunities: not having to wait for simulator time or permission to borrow a Trainer.

It meant social deference. Until I got around to assigning formal patents of nobility, the Jaspers were now effectively the second most highly ranked people on the planet as part of the Inner Sphere’s de facto warrior nobility.

What I’d just done was the equivalent of a medieval Duke elevating a long-serving retainer to knighthood. And it clearly meant the world to the Jaspers.

First off, technically the Jaspers are now are in the 'second rank of nobility' on Catachan as those who own their own Mechs like Foehammer, Comet, etc. who are behind Alistair and Julia as folks with a Mech + patents of nobility. It is still a massive elevation just like, as Alistair said, a Duke raising a new knight from a retainer for valor and service.

That it was an invaluable political statement shouldn’t have been a consideration, but it was. And as much as I hated the idea of using a tragedy for my own gain, I was doing it. Because Julia was right. This was going to set the tone not simply for my time as Duke, but for every Duke or Duchess of Catachan that followed me.

It was a statement: Yes, there are perks to being in charge. There are also prices to be paid for all of them.

Same as being an officer. Mission, men, me.

And in service of that …

Great look at his thought processes that he;'s using to swallow down this bitter pill.

As the crowd went insane, I stepped away from the microphone and leaned close to speak to Emma who was still gaping at her new ‘Mech in disbelief.

“I know your dad was working with you on how to be a Mechwarrior. Next Monday, meet me outside the main hangar, and I’ll do what I can to help.”

“T-thank you,” the teen, still choked up but obviously grateful, replied.

Yeah, talk about someone in shock. (Also this will not exactly hurt Emma's social life: the equivalent is the girl who shows up at high school driving a new Porsche 992 Turbo S coupe that she just got for her 16th birthday)

I suppose that settled the question once and for all. If his own family didn’t feel like I was cheapening his sacrifice, then I suppose my 21st century instincts really had been way off base. No way around it, I was going to owe Julia an apology.

Julia 'you cold bitch' Steiner: "Why yes you do, Alistair."

A magnificent chapter indeed @Speaker4thesilent. Keep up the excellent work.

Have to second these sentiments, honestly.

also here we see Weber slowly but surely being on his way to being a great boss for his domestic staff. And given visiting nobility is going to be rare he can basically say hang the rules of decorum as related to him being the duke good chunk of the time

Well or pare them back to the minimum like Julia does. One thing that he needs to process is that he's about three humans in one body as Duke Weber of Catachan, CEO Weber of Catachan Arms, and Colonel Weber of the 1st Catachan Harquebusiers (just like Julia is Grafin Steiner, and Hauptmann Steiner of the LCAF for two), and so he can elect to lean more on Colonel Weber in situations where he has a choice.

That said, sometimes he really won't have a choice.

In a very real sense, giving somebody a battlemech is a little like giving them a 100 million dollars worth of land. It means that, unless they're really terrible at economics, they're always going to be fine.


(Seriously, there have been calculations, to estimate the value of a battlemech, and a top end one? Roughly 100 million US dollars. Serious gift, there.)
Nah, he is a butler and supposedly good one, so presumably he understands that each employer has their own way of running things and is used to adapting to them (but also running things around them, albeit not to extent that Alf Stokes did)

Yeah, he understands the man is new to the job and concerned for his people. Mainly Owens was erring on the side of caution since the man literally owns everything around him.

Very glad this story is still going forward, this was a great update. I appreciate in particular the characters getting angry but working their way through it. It's so rare in fanfic that one person in an argument isn't portrayed as right about everything rather than both having valid points.

Thank Speaker for that brainstorm and coming up with the Alaistair/Julia fight. he pitched the idea to me and was invaluable for crafting the Julia snip as a result as my beta.

Ah the clash of mindsets from different eras. For all Julia knows Alistair is simply a man not versed in the ways nobility and politics, but the gulf is much deeper than she can imagine as he comes from a very different culture and also being very private person.

Yeah, she has some suspicions about the disconnect, but nothing definite. She's aware that he is a babe int he woods when it comes to neofeudal politics.

Does the phrase has specific connotations to a Lyran or Steiner or is it just delightful in the general sense speaking as someone who only got into battletech two years ago and only really knows about stuff around the 4th Succession War.

No real connotations, more an 'ugh ick' from Julia as she tried to get rid of the mental images.

Speaking of that, if you like the 4th Succession War, I highly recommend Heir to the Bruce quest on SB, especially since we just wrapped one of the most interesting retellings of the 4SW)
 

Speaker4thesilent

Crazed Deplorable
Very glad this story is still going forward, this was a great update. I appreciate in particular the characters getting angry but working their way through it. It's so rare in fanfic that one person in an argument isn't portrayed as right about everything rather than both having valid points.
In fiction, we get so very many unrealistic relationships. One of the goals here is to show how an actual functional relationship works.

You have to be able to disagree with someone without attacking them, and you have to be willing to come back afterwards and apologize.

Like anything else worth having, relationships take work.
I was surprised that when Weber decided to exit the mercenary business completely he didn't lose a bunch of his soldiers. I would have thought he would keep Weber's Warriors as a company sized unit for those who wanted to remain as mercs and build it back up to a battalion over time.
House units have certain advantages over mercenaries. There’s an implied safety net there for his people. It allows him to better ensure they’re taken care of.
Does the phrase has specific connotations to a Lyran or Steiner or is it just delightful in the general sense speaking as someone who only got into battletech two years ago and only really knows about stuff around the 4th Succession War.
Future. Of the. 80’s.
 

Yellowhammer

Well-known member
Future. Of the. 80’s.

Very much so and Julia's a reasonably nice girl who is from an upper-class background. While she can curse, it's more the standard stuff (f-bomb, s-word, questioning the targets intelligence or parentage) than anything really inventive or vulgar.

In fiction, we get so very many unrealistic relationships. One of the goals here is to show how an actual functional relationship works.

You have to be able to disagree with someone without attacking them, and you have to be willing to come back afterwards and apologize.

Like anything else worth having, relationships take work.

Yes, and this is also showing the two of them at their worst in a sense when you put them and their relationship under stress.

Did some of the things Weber said hurt Julia? Oh HELL yes (the 'you cold bitch' cut her very deep), but she's willing to accept that his verbal attack was aimed at her position in the argument and not at her as a person.

(Also Weber will eventually realize that Julia drumming her fingers is a 'tell' for her being nervous/afraid and react accordingly.)

House units have certain advantages over mercenaries. There’s an implied safety net there for his people. It allows him to better ensure they’re taken care of.

This, very much this.

For instance if Weber's Warriors were still mercenaries, the decision to give the Jaspers a Thud would be a much harder one since that is ceding a major chunk of your unit's capital and would be a blow to the bottom line. Likewise, the decision to put Emma Jasper in the cockpit would be a bit of 'does this benefit the unit's finances?

As a Ducal House Unit, that is much more acceptable/expected for a noble to retainer gesture since the Duke has almost by definition a steady income stream to support the unit/replace the Mech in due time.

Since Weber's Warriors have been employed by the LC for a generation at a minimum, the folks who would want to leave would generally be those who have had bad experiences with Lyrans (such as a Company Store ploy).

Effectively, they are giving up their ability to 'sign with other factions' in exchange for a very steady and stable income stream and implicit support. (IE if Katrina requests the Harquebusiers for an attack on say Harvest she's implicitly accepting the responsibility to protect Weber's people while he responds to her plea for aid and if he serves well she/the LCAF will have some responsibility to make good materiel losses in some ways. Allowing purchases from Hesperus II, battlefield salvage, giving replacement parts/war machines from LCAF reserve stores, etc.). This is generally why getting a landhold and noble title is the dream of 80%+ of the merc units int he Inner Sphere since if you really want to fight your CO/noble can arrange a subcontract to raid, pirate hunt or whatnot relatively easily)

Will CAC start developing refit kits for other Battlemechs and ASFs and does it have the excess capacity to produce them with their current production?

I do expect that there is a -5S to -6S Thunderbolt refit kit in the works by Olivetti now that the design has proved itself.
 

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