TEXT: BATTLECORPS
  CROSSROADS  
  AT OUTREACH
  by Kevin Killiany
  (Story Two of the Chaos Irregulars)
  
  BATTLECORPS
  Crossroads at Outreach • Page 2
  Proving Grounds 
  Outreach 
  Chaos March 
  18 November 3066
  Jake timed his jump to land a half heartbeat after the Guillotine 
  and about sixty meters behind. The enemy ‘Mech was intent 
  on flanking Peregrine Junior and hadn’t noticed Jake’s stalking 
  Grasshopper.
  As he came down, the cliff face rising to his left reminded Jake 
  of the Acamar Badlands. But where those dark cliffs had hemmed 
  him in narrow valleys beneath a winter overcast, the red face of 
  this mesa threw back the summer sun with enough heat to fog the 
  IR sensors.
  Jake shook off memories of blinded sensors and snow and fo-
  cused on coming down in one piece. The Guillotine had jumped to 
  a narrow band of leveled gravel between the face of the mesa and 
  the escarpment of eroded rubble tumbling down the last dozen 
  meters to the plain. Bringing his seventy-ton ‘Mech down on a 
  loose and slanting surface was hard enough. Coming down firing 
  was going to take all his—
  Alarms blared. Weapons lock.
  The Grasshopper came down hard, its right foot slipping. Jake 
  compensated, righting his machine even as he scanned for his at-
  tacker.
  A Black Knight, cool in the shadow of an upthrust rock behind 
  and to his right. Like it had been there a while. Waiting for him.
  Hard on the heels of that realization came the image in his tar-
  geting reticule. Not the gunmetal grey back of the Guillotine he’d 
  expected, but a broadsword and bronze shield and the full array 
  of the heavy ‘Mech’s weapons. His prey had turned in place while 
  he’d been fighting for footing. Only possible that fast if he’d been 
  expecting Jake.
  Set up!
  Vectored a hundred and twenty degrees apart, they had him 
  pinned against a cliff face.
  Damndamndamn—
  
  BATTLECORPS
  Crossroads at Outreach • Page 3
  A second weapons lock alarm squealed even as the Grasshopper 
  rocked in response to a PPC bolt from the Black Knight.
  Not waiting for a good tone, Jake unleashed his torso lasers at 
  the Guillotine. The left side medium laser’s beam went wide, but 
  computers registered solid hits with his large laser and right me-
  dium just as the other launched its short range missiles.
  The enemy ‘Mech pivoted slightly with the impact, the flight of 
  missiles wasting themselves against the cliff face. As its left arm 
  ER large laser came up, Jake leaned back and stomped his ped-
  als.
  He’d meant to jump backwards and to the right, directly toward 
  the Black Knight. His rising trajectory would make it difficult for 
  the larger ‘Mech to target him while he added friendly fire con-
  cerns to the Guillotine’s targeting solutions.
  But the escarpment, crumbling beneath the thrust of his jets, 
  threw him off balance. The Grasshopper tilted right, launching it-
  self in a flat trajectory over the plain.
  Jake forgot his intended parting shot at the Guillotine as he and 
  the gyro fought physics in the hope of bringing the Grasshopper 
  down in one piece.
  --damndamndamndamndamndamndamn--
  
  BATTLECORPS
  Crossroads at Outreach • Page 4
  University District  
  Harlech, Outreach 
  Chaos March 
  14 November 3066
  The cab was stationary, which suited Captain Ariel Peregrine 
  just fine. She’d allowed for traffic, knowing the streets around 
  Outreach University were nearly always jammed at midday. 
  Ariel picked out familiar buildings, noticing a cafe frequented 
  by students had once again changed its name. She tried to let the 
  sense of coming home wash over her, wash away the stress of the 
  last weeks. 
  And Outreach was home, or as much like home as any world had 
  ever been. She’d spent her childhood in a modest house at the 
  foot of Harlech Heights, not far enough up to be considered prime 
  real estate, but high enough to have a view of the city. She and her 
  mother and brother. After so many years she was finally reaching 
  the point where she could remember them without the stab of 
  grief. But she had no interest in visiting the hills above Harlech.
  When Ariel thought of Outreach as home, it was the University 
  and the district surrounding it that came to mind. She had spent 
  six years of her life in and around University City. She’d earned her 
  undergraduate degree in military science and history, then con-
  tinued to live in campus housing while completing every course 
  offered by the Wolf Dragoon’s Outreach Mercenary Training 
  Command.
  The cab lurched forward with traffic, covering another block and 
  a half before the flow once again inexplicably stopped. If time had 
  been a factor, Ariel would have gotten out and walked. But it was 
  important that she appear confident, cool and professional. While 
  she still might appear confident after sprinting a dozen blocks in 
  the November heat, cool would have definitely been lost and, in 
  all probability, professional with it.
  Not that she felt professional in a dress uniform shorn of it’s 
  Peregrine’s Hussars’ insignia. She didn’t feel right wearing the fa-
  miliar shield and lance, wouldn’t wear it until the Hussars again 
  reformed into a fighting force of which her father would have been 
  proud. And as yet she and Captain Jacoam had not agreed on a 
  unit insignia for the Chaos Irregulars.
  
  BATTLECORPS
  Crossroads at Outreach • Page 5
  No surprise there.
  The cab moved forward a dozen meters and stopped.
  Ariel leaned away from the window, realizing the sun’s warmth 
  was making her drowsy. She forced her eyes wide a few times, 
  not actually rubbing them. A dress uniform, even a dress uni-
  form without unit insignia, precluded eye rubbing and yawning. 
  Tapping the passenger compartment environmental controls in 
  front of her, she set the air temperature to sixteen.
  The cabbie, in shirt-sleeves appropriate to the weather, raised 
  the glass partition between them without comment.
  Ariel had to admit Jacoam’s technical people—their technical 
  people now—were every bit as good as he had promised. Between 
  their abilities and Jacoam’s skill at bartering for new and needed 
  equipment, all twenty-five Chaos Irregular BattleMechs were in 
  perfect working order. No mean feat, given the time and circum-
  stances.
  Of course, they were all in the dark flat grey of primer base coat. 
  Jacoam had, predictably, wanted to paint them all in variations of 
  camouflage. She’d pointed out trying to disguise a ten-meter-tall, 
  walking weapons platform with daubs of paint had never been ef-
  fective, particularly against modern targeting sensors. Far more 
  useful was a uniform paint scheme that would serve to identify their 
  disparate BattleMechs as being united in a cohesive fighting force.
  The upshot had been twenty-five BattleMechs in charcoal primer 
  drilling in group maneuvers on the open practice fields.
  Predictably, the former Strikers moved with nothing like the pre-
  cision of the Hussars. And in the first days the evident familiarity 
  between Striker officers and noncoms—the lack of discipline, call 
  it what it was—had almost destroyed their unit. The level of carp-
  ing and complaining Jacoam had allowed was inexcusable. 
  Fortunately, Jacoam had sorted it out before it came to a head. 
  Not by appealing to any sense of professionalism, of course. He’d 
  pointed out that venting and balking during exercises on the open 
  fields, when they were under the eyes of prospective employers, 
  hurt their chances of getting good job offers.
  The Footmen, the infantry of the former Hussars, or rather the 
  twenty-nine survivors of the defense of Flat, were having no 
  trouble integrating with their counterparts. If Sergeant Proxton’s 
  private reports were to be believed. 
  
  BATTLECORPS
  Crossroads at Outreach • Page 6
  According to Proxton, the former Strikers were oriented more 
  toward general combat while the Footmen were skilled in security 
  and anti-smuggling; a lot of mutual instruction was going on. In 
  any case, the ninety-eight men of the new unit called themselves 
  an augmented company and seemed to be functioning well. 
  Which was a very good thing, considering the intense evalua-
  tion all of them would be going through in less than a week. They 
  were a new unit on Outreach and even Jacoam had understood 
  the importance of earning as high a rating as possible from Wolf’s 
  Dragoons—or, more properly, the Mercenary Review and Bonding 
  Commission. While evidently familiar with finding work through 
  the bars and grapevines of TempTown, Jacoam knew better than 
  to underestimate the value of entrée to the Hiring Hall.
  The cab moved forward again, breaking into her thoughts. The 
  walls of the University rose ahead and the cabbie circled left, head-
  ing toward Lakefront Drive and the north campus entrance.
  Ariel made a last tactile inspection, preparatory to getting out. 
  All buttons fastened, all service ribbons present and correct, cap-
  tain’s bars in place; her fingers hesitated over the sleeve bare of 
  patch. As satisfied as she was going to be, Ariel prepared pay-
  ment as the cab slid into a vacant slot along the taxi row.
  If—when the Mercenary Review and Bonding Commission vet-
  ted the Chaos Irregulars for the Hiring Hall, she’d feel comfortable 
  about approaching some of her father’s old contacts. Today, how-
  ever, she was seeking the counsel of an ally of her own.
  Colonel Olstein had been her mentor at the University. But more 
  than that, he had been a source of strength after the fire. Her father 
  had been off-planet and the gruff support of the colonel, himself 
  a widower, had enabled her to complete her freshman year. He’d 
  also arranged for her to remain in the campus dormitories while 
  attending the OMTC. 
  If Ariel could think of anyone as family outside of the Hussars, 
  Colonel Olstein was it.
  She gave her reflection a final inspection in the black polished 
  granite framing the entrance to the history building. It wouldn’t do 
  to present herself in less than perfect condition.
  
  BATTLECORPS
  Crossroads at Outreach • Page 7
  Inland South District  
  Harlech, Outreach 
  Chaos March 
  14 November 3066
  Jake pushed open the door and let the familiar sounds and scents 
  of the bar roll over him.
  “In or out,” ordered a voice from the darkness.
  Jake grinned and entered. 
  Behind him the door swung shut, banishing the light and noise 
  of the noonday street. Or, more properly, alley. 
  The roof of the building that rose above the bar no doubt com-
  manded an excellent view of Harlech’s Interplanetary DropPort, 
  and Herrera Drive, Harlech’s north/south artery, was only a few 
  blocks to the east. Though perhaps not impressive, it was still an 
  excellent location for small to middling businesses engaged in im-
  port and export. However, with the exception of a select few, it 
  was unlikely the tenants renting office suites realized a bar most 
  would call a dive was accessible from a service alley that ran be-
  hind the building.
  This one, O’Malley’s, was one of a half dozen such along the 
  northern edge of TempTown. Their locations allowed mercenaries 
  to come “uptown” without leaving the TempTown for a notice-
  able length of time. They also allowed prospective employers new 
  to the mercenary trade, who would not normally know their way 
  around the mercenaries’ enclave, to feel they were still on safe 
  ground. 
  These bars weren’t really secret. Only a fool didn’t understand 
  that Dragoon agents were always present. Jake wouldn’t have 
  been surprised to discover the Dragoons actually ran the ersatz 
  dives.
  Jake headed for the bar, an easy target in the gloom and ordered 
  a pint of dark beer to nurse while waiting for his eyes to adjust. 
  After a moment, he could see that the man he’d come to meet 
  was engaged in heads-together conversation with an elderly cou-
  ple at a small table near the far wall. They were dressed in an 
  off-world style Jake didn’t recognize but looked expensive. 
  
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  Crossroads at Outreach • Page 8
  Content to wait his turn, Jake studied the room in the mirror over 
  the bar and amused himself by sorting out the players.
  The game here was a simple one. One nobody familiar with the 
  business of hiring mercenaries ever took part in. 
  Play began when someone—a business, a small colony, whatev-
  er—who wasn’t certain about how to contact mercenaries would 
  pick up on the broad hints dropped by one of the select few im-
  port/export businesses above and ask for guidance. Usually they 
  didn’t think they could afford the prices of the top units at the 
  Hiring Hall, or thought the jobs they had in mind might not be le-
  gitimate. Half the time they were wrong on both counts, but their 
  newfound guides almost never explained that.
  Instead, they’d usher the client to the secret bar. The decor, the 
  lighting—or lack thereof—even several of the hired patrons, were 
  intended to impress on prospective employers that they had 
  entered a strange new world. Here a broker would listen to the 
  neophyte employer’s needs and negotiate a price. Once he was 
  satisfied he’d levered every concession he could, the broker would 
  collect as much of it as he could up front and tell them to wait for 
  his call.
  Then the broker would go down into TempTown and hire whom-
  ever he could to do the job for the smallest fraction of the price 
  possible.
  Jake had pretty well sorted the bar’s population into actors 
  hired to play mercenaries, brokers, and guys off the street who’d 
  come in for drinks. He was just getting serious about guessing 
  how many of each group really worked for the Dragoons when the 
  couple rose from their conference with the broker. 
  The elderly pair didn’t look like anyone who would need the 
  services of mercenaries. Jake, who prided himself on his discern-
  ing eye, couldn’t quite sort them out. For their part, with worried 
  smiles and nervous glances in all directions, the two provided 
  each other with close cover as they made their way to the door.
  Jake ordered a fresh beer to give the broker time to enter all the 
  specifics of the deal he’d just concluded into his noteputer, then 
  made his leisurely way across the room.
  “Clairmont,” he greeted.
  “Jake!” the heavy set man exclaimed as though just seeing him. 
  “What brings you here? Join me, join me.”
  
  BATTLECORPS
  Crossroads at Outreach • Page 9
  Jake slid into a wooden chair opposite Clairmont, absently noting 
  it was still warm. There was a cluster of empty drink glasses in the 
  center of the table and a single beer mug, half full, at Clairmont’s 
  elbow. No condensation on the mug. He’d been nursing that one 
  a while. Jake reconsidered sipping his fresh beer and set it on the 
  table.
  “Just getting reacquainted with the neighborhood,” Jake said.”Been 
  doing some pretty intense training with our new outfit.”
  “Heard about Acamar,” Clairmont shook his head sympatheti-
  cally. “Shame about Sorensen.”
  “Yeah,” Jake drew the word out. 
  Any details he offered about the general screw-up of leadership 
  would be seen as excuses. Best to let the past bury the past and 
  focus on where he was now. 
  The broker shifted his beer mug without actually lifting it. 
  Jake felt the muscles in his drinking arm twitch in response to 
  the sound of mug on table, but he didn’t reach for his own beer. 
  He wasn’t that easy to twist.
  “The only good that came out of that mess,” he said after a 
  thoughtful pause, “was the Chaos Irregulars. That’s the new outfit 
  we’ve put together.”
  Clairmont nodded.
  “Seen some numbers,” he said obliquely. 
  It didn’t surprise him Clairmont had seen scores from their prac-
  tice runs. Jake would have bet he, and the other brokers, had 
  access to daily spreadsheets on every trial by every unit on the 
  open fields. The Irregulars numbers weren’t where he wanted 
  them, but he knew they were solid. Whatever else Peregrine Junior 
  was, she was a good drill instructor. 
  What was significant was not that Clairmont had seen the stats, 
  but his revealing he’d seen them. In fact, it signaled the success-
  ful conclusion of Jake’s mission. He’d let the broker know the 
  Irregulars were ready to take on contracts and the broker had let 
  him know he was willing to talk to him pro to pro.
  Jake cocked an eyebrow at the other man. He knew his shoul-
  ders had visibly relaxed and was letting Clairmont know he didn’t 
  mind the broker seeing the tell. He reached for his mug.
  
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  Crossroads at Outreach • Page 10
  “You’re getting evaluated at the end of the week,” Clairmont ob-
  served just as the beer reached Jake’s lips.
  Ready for the question, Jake completed the swallow, neither too 
  big nor too quick.
  “Looking forward to that,” he said, smiling easily. He didn’t set 
  the mug back down. “I expect we’ll have some offers through the 
  Hall in the next couple of weeks.”
  That last might have been thick, but he didn’t want the broker to 
  have any doubts about his confidence level. 
  “It was good to see you again, Clairmont,” he said, rising. “But 
  I’ve got some running to do.”
  “Keep in touch.”
  “You, too.”
  Draining his beer on the way to the bar, Jake decided the guy 
  who looked like he was watching couldn’t possibly be a Dragoon 
  agent. Given someone to bet with, he’d have put his money on the 
  bartender and the romantically inclined couple in the corner.
  Grinning, he set his empty mug on the polished neomahogany 
  counter top and headed back out into the sunshine.
  
  BATTLECORPS
  Crossroads at Outreach • Page 11
  University District  
  Harlech, Outreach 
  Chaos March 
  14 November 3066
  “Sounds like a debacle.” Colonel Olstein’s voice was gruffly sym-
  pathetic, but there was no way to sugarcoat the words.
  Ariel nodded. Her throat was tight, her eyes stinging. Physical 
  reactions to her recounting the fall of Flat to her old mentor. Eighty 
  percent of Peregrine’s Hussars lost. 
  A debacle, yes; one she could blame on bad intel and pigheaded 
  non-allies. But couldn’t, especially knowing that four days of inde-
  cision on her part had prevented her taking her company to join 
  up with the planetary militia and drive the invaders off. How many 
  of her people could she have saved if she had those four days 
  back?
  They were seated in the colonel’s office on the third floor of the 
  history building. She in the deceptively comfortable leather chair 
  designed to lull students into a false sense of ease, he in the more 
  businesslike office chair behind the desk.
  Ariel knew if she stood and turned her head to the right, she’d 
  be able to just see Lake Kearny meeting the horizon over the 
  University’s wall. She had stood, staring at that view for what 
  seemed like hours, in the days and weeks following the fire. Had 
  it only been a decade?
  Olstein’s office wasn’t as large as he deserved, but it was com-
  fortable. He had a case of antique books, some of which she’d 
  actually seen him read over the years; no doubt decreasing 
  their value to collectors. On his walls were imitation antiques. 
  Reproductions of ancient battle maps, with none of the forces or 
  features labeled. At any time during an interview with the profes-
  sor, a student could be expected to identify those forces, name the 
  battle, identify what point in the battle was illustrated, and explain 
  what happened next.
  Today the one on the left, over the bookcase, was the Battle of 
  Jutland, just after the German fleet turned. On the opposite wall, 
  next to the one window with the view, was the Battle of North 
  Point, War of 1812, just as the outnumbered American defenders 
  surprised the British invaders with an unexpected sally.
  
  BATTLECORPS
  Crossroads at Outreach • Page 12
  Ariel doubted Olstein would hit her with a pop quiz, but it felt 
  good to be prepared.
  “I keep thinking,” she began, her mind coming back to why she 
  was here.
  “And you will keep thinking until the day you die,” the colonel 
  cut her off, not unkindly. “It won’t change a thing, but you’ll do it. 
  Every commander does and every commander should. It’s how 
  you prepare for next time.
  “What could you have done differently?” He turned his palms up, 
  revealing empty hands. “Perhaps nothing. Too much of what had 
  to be done relied on forces you could not trust.”
  There wasn’t much to say to that. Ariel nodded, trying to think 
  how to bring the conversation around to where she wanted it.
  “So what are your plans?” Colonel Olstein asked, doing half her 
  work for her.
  “I’ve retired the Hussars’ name,” she shrugged her left shoul-
  der slightly to indicate the bare sleeve. “Temporarily. The long 
  term objective is to rebuild a fighting force worthy of my father’s 
  legacy.”
  The colonel looked for a moment as if he were about to speak, 
  then thought better of it. He inclined his head slightly for her to 
  continue.
  “Short term strategies for reaching that objective include form-
  ing a new unit,” she said, leaning forward to place a data crystal 
  on the desk. 
  “It combines the remnants of the Hussars with elements of an-
  other mercenary force that survived the debacle on Acamar,” she 
  added, deliberately using the colonel’s word. 
  Ariel resisted the urge to stand and look out over the water while 
  Olstein read the data file. She contented herself with reviewing 
  the Battle of North Point. The British were about to be defeated 
  by a smaller force employing unconventional tactics. She knew 
  precisely how that felt. What would she have done differently in 
  the British commander’s position?
  After a few minutes, Olstein grunted.
  “An eclectic lot,” he said. “And clearly Free World trained. Which 
  means heavy emphasis on individual initiative and independent 
  
  BATTLECORPS
  Crossroads at Outreach • Page 13
  thinking for small units. A philosophy consistent with their cul-
  tural values, but contrary to sound military organization.”
  Ariel had almost recited that last sentence along with him. It had 
  been one of the colonel’s more oft-repeated adages.
  “You seem to have brought them along nicely,” he added, shut-
  ting down the viewer. “When is your evaluation?”
  As a newly formed unit, the Chaos Irregulars could technically 
  be assigned a “Green” experience rating by default, one which 
  would limit the job offers they would receive and the fees they 
  could charge. 
  However, Wolf’s Dragoons and the Mercenary Review and 
  Bonding Commission understood when established units com-
  bined to form a new command, they did not lose all of their 
  experience. Mercenaries in this position could request to submit 
  themselves for evaluation—an intense process that began with 
  a close inspection, included live fire exercises and ended with a 
  simulated exercise against an opposing force of equal size and 
  higher ranking.
  The evaluation process was fiscally costly. The unit being evalu-
  ated was responsible for all expenses involved, which included 
  reimbursing both the Dragoons for their inspectors’ time and ex-
  pertise and whatever fees the opposing force required. But if the 
  evaluation resulted in a provisional “Regular” rating, the increased 
  income would more than offset the investment.
  “In four days,” Ariel said. “We’re going to make some decisions 
  about our support assets this evening, then we have three days of 
  coordinated drills laid on for final preparation.”
  “We,” Olstein shook his head. “Examples of combined command 
  working are few and far between, Ariel.”
  “Yes, sir, I know,” she answered, feeling a slight flush at his unac-
  customed use of her first name. “But it was the best option under 
  the circumstances. I still believe it’s viable, at least for the short 
  term.”
  The moment she said the words, Ariel remembered the flat char-
  coal grey ‘Mechs. She marveled at the conviction in her tone.
  “Now I might believe you came to visit for old times’ sake, and 
  that you just happened to have a crystal full of data on this new 
  unit you’re putting together in your pocket,” Colonel Olstein said. 
  
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  Crossroads at Outreach • Page 14
  “Many people have believed far stranger things. But I suspect 
  there’s a bit more involved.”
  Ariel smiled.
  “After the evaluation—” she began and was surprised to see her 
  old mentor relax slightly. 
  Had he actually suspected she might be here to ask for help with 
  the ratings board? The shock of the thought stalled her for a mo-
  ment.
  “Our first job offers are not likely to be the most beneficial for 
  my people,” she went on. “In fact, there may be none for weeks or 
  even months after our name is posted.”
  Olstein nodded, agreeing with the assessment.
  “I was wondering if you’d be willing to familiarize yourself with 
  the Irregulars, with what we have to offer,” Ariel rushed a bit to 
  get through the last. “And, if you’re satisfied with our competence 
  and if you feel it’s appropriate, perhaps...”
  “Put in a good word with a reputable employer?” the colonel fin-
  ished. “I’d be delighted.”
  “Yes, sir,” Ariel said, relief flushing her body. “Thank you, sir.”
  “If you have time,” he said, rising, “Let me take you to lunch. You 
  can explain to me how you came to be sharing command with the 
  Free Worlds League.”
  
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  Crossroads at Outreach • Page 15
  Free-Hire Quarter  
  Harlech, Outreach 
  Chaos March 
  14 November 3066
  Jake had splurged a little on the compound he’d rented for the 
  Irregulars and, for once, Peregrine Junior had agreed. If the two 
  units were going to get to know each other, figure out how to work 
  as one, they were going to need some privacy and some elbow 
  room.
  Inside the high fence was a barracks designed to house about 
  twenty percent more personnel than they had. In addition, they had 
  an exercise yard to match, parking for transports so they wouldn’t 
  have to rely on the public shuttles to get to the practice fields, and a 
  mess hall with a couple of general purpose rooms attached. 
  With an unlimited budget, Jake would have sprung for offices 
  and a gym. On the other hand, they had free weights and mats 
  they could use in the mess hall between meals and they really had 
  no other plans for the general purpose rooms.
  A holotheater would have been nice.
  One of Peregrine Junior’s alums was at the gate, so Jake had to 
  stop and prove he matched his identification. That kind of behav-
  ior made sense guarding a client’s valuable installation. Not here. 
  With one of his own men at the gate, he would have been passed 
  through with a wave. 
  But... 
  The Hussars had had a higher rating than the Strikers. From what 
  he’d seen, they’d gotten better jobs and better pay, too.
  By the time he was halfway to the mess hall, Jake decided may-
  be Peregrine Junior’s behavior wasn’t always crazy.
  There were still a few men loitering in the mess hall as he passed 
  through. Not many. Today was for R&R and, except for the few 
  unlucky enough to pull duty, most of the Irregulars were taking 
  advantage of the entertainments Harlech had to offer.
  Jake also suspected some had done the math and figured out the 
  Irregulars needed to trim some support personnel. He’d bet a few 
  were taking advantage of the free time to preemptively scout out 
  
  BATTLECORPS
  Crossroads at Outreach • Page 16
  potential employers. He wished them luck, it would make the deci-
  sions he—he and Peregrine Junior—had to make a little easier.
  Reema separated herself from a group evidently playing some 
  sort of board game and fell in step.
  “Successful?”
  “Clairmont didn’t offer us a million cold to field test a pleasure 
  circus,” Jake answered. “But he’s accepted we’re players.”
  “If we score high enough on the eval,” Reema said, holding the 
  door for him to precede her into the short hall leading to the rooms 
  being used for administration, “we might not need Clairmont.”
  “Or he may con some rubes into paying us a lot more than a 
  Hiring Hall bid,” Jake countered. “Good strategy means keeping 
  all of your options open.”
  Lieutenant Davis and Sergeant-Major Pauls sat on opposite sides 
  of a table in the smaller of the two general purpose rooms. Their 
  joint desk supported two computer terminals, a half dozen note-
  puters, even pads of paper covered with handwritten notes.
  What caught Jake’s attention first, however, was the lieutenant’s 
  hair. While the sides and back were still a dark brown, the top of 
  his head was now a sunny blonde.
  “You dyed your hair?” 
  Both men looked up from their work in surprise.
  “Yes,” Davis acknowledged. “What do you think?”
  Jake shrugged. “Suits you.”
  Reema snorted.
  “What?” Jake demanded.
  “If the general public ever found out what hard-bitten merce-
  naries really talk about behind closed doors,” she said darkly, “it 
  would make their blood run cold.”
  Pauls laughed out loud.
  “Okay,” Jake ignored the flush he felt. “What have you guys got?”
  “A circular argument about the ‘Mechbuster, for one thing,” Pauls 
  said.
  
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  “I didn’t expect much when I first heard about it,” Davis put in. 
  “But whoever restored it for Sorensen did the job right. And I like 
  that variant: four SRM6s with enough ammo for seven runs, plen-
  ty of fuel. If you’re going to have a ‘Mechbuster, that’s the one to 
  have.”
  “But it is only one,” Pauls countered. “And, in its wonderful con-
  dition, it’d make an excellent barter piece.”
  “For what?” Jake asked. “A quarter of a ‘Mech?”
  “There are some VTOLs out there,” Pauls answered, indicating 
  the screen of his computer terminal. Jake couldn’t see it, but as-
  sumed the Sergeant Major was tapped into some sort of trading 
  area on the MercNet. “Being able to airlift infantry into a hot spot 
  could be a real asset.”
  “If we had assault infantry,” Davis said. “Which we don’t. We’re a 
  light infantry best suited to security or constabulary duties.”
  “Yours were,” Pauls pointed out. “Ours were more versatile. Saw 
  a lot of field action.”
  “Now they’re all ours,” Jake nipped that line of argument in the 
  bud. “So we have a mix of talents.” 
  Both junior officers nodded, conceding the point.
  “But we still have no battle armor, and we have no air cover for 
  the VTOLs,” Jake went on. “Unless you’re talking assault VTOLs 
  instead of transport. Otherwise, if we can’t cover them, we’re just 
  asking to lose them.”
  Pauls took a deep breath as though preparing to rebut, then 
  paused. Letting his breath out in a long sigh, he nodded, sur-
  rendering his position. Actually, his argument was a familiar one. 
  Pauls had been badgering Sorensen about developing a better 
  mix of vehicles ever since Jake could remember.
  “On the other hand,” Davis was saying. “Something able to move 
  fast, hit behind enemy lines repeatedly and then withdraw, would 
  be an asset whether we’re attacking or defending a position.”
  “But you still have the cover problem,” Pauls said. “There’s a rea-
  son planes fight in pairs. The best use of that plane is trading it for 
  something. There are a dozen things we need more than a single 
  ‘Mechbuster without a pilot.”
  “Agreed,” said Ariel.
  
  BATTLECORPS
  Crossroads at Outreach • Page 18
  Jake jumped slightly. He hadn’t heard his co-commander come 
  in. He covered the spasm by extending it into a turn to grin at her.
  “Perfect timing, Captain.”
  “Always, Captain,” she responded. 
  About as big a joke as he’d ever heard from her. He noted she was 
  in what he thought of as Ariel mode, almost lifelike. That would 
  last until something happened that she didn’t like, then Peregrine 
  Junior—the refugee from a recruiting poster with a PPC up her 
  butt—would resume command.
  Technically, he supposed, he should be a force commander and 
  Ariel/Peregrine Junior a major. However, the one point at which 
  Free Worlds League and Federated Suns command structure co-
  incided exactly was captain, so sticking to that rank pretty well 
  summed up their relationship. 
  Neither one of them had brought up the issue of standardizing 
  the rank tables within the Irregulars. That suited him fine; he liked 
  things loose. But from what he’d seen of her, it wasn’t like Peregrine 
  Junior to not try and force all of his sergeants to become subal-
  terns or some such nonsense. Not that she’d have much luck. If 
  the issue ever came to a head, they’d probably have to go to Drac 
  rankings as the only viable compromise. Or Clan.
  Jake pulled his head back into the room in time to hear his co-
  commander ask about the unit insignia search. That was a priority. 
  When they went public, the right unit sig could make or break 
  deals.
  Davis turned the monitor of his computer terminal so the others 
  could see it. In the center of the white screen was a black spiky 
  circle that did nothing for Jake. Definitely not a deal-maker.
  “What’s this?” he asked.
  “It’s the only symbol we could find for Chaos,” Davis explained. 
  “Eight arrows pointing out from a central wheel. It was designed 
  by a twentieth century storyteller.”
  “Looks like an ugly flower of some sort,” Ariel observed.
  “Some neopagans blocked in the center wheel,” Davis said. The 
  circle became a solid black disk on the screen. “Their symbol for 
  the spirit of chaos.”
  “Chaos has a spirit?” Reema asked.
  
  BATTLECORPS
  Crossroads at Outreach • Page 19
  “Neopagans,” Davis repeated. “Anthropomorphizing. Logic was 
  not an issue.”
  “Was that the best you could find?” Ariel asked.
  “Actual pictures of chaos,” Davis said, tapping some keys, “that 
  is, computer generated fractal images, look like this.”
  “That’s paisley,” Jake identified. “That’s a row of buttons. And 
  that’s, what? Something swirly.”
  “Nothing at all useful,” Ariel sighed.
  Davis put the neopagan image back on the screen.
  “Which leaves us with the ugly flower here.”
  For a moment the five of them considered the screen. It occurred 
  to Jake that this was one of the few times he’d seen the command 
  staff so united.
  “What if you expanded the central circle?” Reema asked, break-
  ing his thought. “So it’s right up under the arrow heads? Then 
  make it white, to match the background...”
  Davis complied.
  “It’s a circle of arrowheads,” Jake said.
  “Wait, I’ve got this idea in my head,” Reema said. “Just trying to 
  explain it.”
  Davis offered her the keyboard, but she waved it away.
  “Can you make the cardinal arrowheads bigger?” she asked. “Not 
  wider, but about twice as long...”
  “I think I see what you’re doing,” Pauls said suddenly. “Tony, 
  multiply the little arrowheads between the big ones. Make it three, 
  and vary the sizes.”
  “Okay, good.” Reema flashed Pauls a brief smile. “Now kind of 
  flare them together.”
  The base arrowheads curved out slightly until they joined to-
  gether to form a ring.
  “It’s a corona,” Jake realized. “The ring of sunlight around a 
  moon during an eclipse.”
  
  BATTLECORPS
  Crossroads at Outreach • Page 20
  Peregrine Junior’s glance let him know the explanation had been 
  unnecessary.
  “A black corona?” she asked Davis.
  “I can reverse it.”
  A white corona burned in the center of the black screen. 
  “Silver,” said Ariel. “Not metallic, no glitter, just the color.”
  “That’s it,” said Jake. “Very classy, very professional. Worth an 
  extra three, four percent in asking price.”
  “Wait a minute,” Ariel was frowning at the screen. “Davis, lighten 
  the background up to about eighty percent black.”
  “Charcoal grey?” Jake asked. Then the penny dropped. “Primer 
  coat?
  “Exactly.”
  “That is good,” Jake acknowledged, looking at the silver corona 
  on the charcoal field. “Simple, memorable, and it saves us ninety 
  percent of the cost of painting our ‘Mechs.”
  “Check to see if that’s registered,” Ariel ordered.
  There was a tense minute as Davis scanned the Mercenary 
  Registry.
  “Nope,” he said at last. “There’s a couple in the neighborhood, 
  but nothing close.”
  “File.”
  The lieutenant tapped a few keys.
  “It’s ours,” he announced.
  “Good work.”
  “Where on the ‘Mech should the insignia be painted?” Pauls 
  asked. He’d gone back to his own computer and had some sort of 
  requisition form called up.
  “Wherever the armor is thickest,” Jake said. “The insignia is al-
  ways easy to target.”
  “Left shoulder, right thigh,” Peregrine Junior corrected, then 
  turned to Jake. “Uniformity indicates professionalism.”
  
  BATTLECORPS
  Crossroads at Outreach • Page 21
  “Routing the specs to the ‘Mech garage now,” Pauls said, tapping 
  buttons on his own terminal. 
  One of the many local industries catering to Mercenaries was 
  ‘Mech painting. Half a dozen companies had license to do busi-
  ness in the secured garage area the Dragoons maintained near 
  the practice fields. Having all mercenary ‘Mech bays in a central-
  ized location not only simplified security, it avoided the problem 
  of mercenaries in ‘Mechs wandering the streets of Harlech. 
  “Pay double for next day rush?” Pauls asked.
  Good question. The Irregulars had been living well on the salvage 
  they’d been able to claim from the Badlands of Acamar. A little too 
  well. Jake had wanted to rebuild one of the Vindicators, tried to 
  convince Peregrine Junior to replace that damned Firestarter with 
  it, but she’d have nothing to do with parting with any of daddy 
  dearest’s original assets. Still, even with the salvage money, their 
  pockets weren’t infinitely deep.
  “How soon without rush?” he asked.
  “Three to six days.”
  “See if they can split the price on two days,” Jake ordered, not 
  looking to Peregrine Junior for confirmation. “If not, go for rush. 
  We need to look right for the evaluation.”
  Davis nodded and tapped keys. 
  “Route a requisition to quartermaster supply,” Peregrine Junior 
  ordered when he looked up. “Send them particulars on our roster. 
  Let’s use some of that paint money we saved and order a full kit of 
  fatigues, black, for everyone. No insignia.”
  “Wait a minute...” Jake began.
  “Charcoal grey ‘Mechs and vehicles with silver insignia,” she 
  pointed out. “Black fatigues will still create the impression of a 
  cohesive whole. You understand the importance of image in mar-
  keting.”
  “Well, yeah,” Jake agreed. 
  She had a point. At the same time the troubled expression on 
  Reema’s face caught his eye. This was not going to be as simple 
  as Peregrine Junior expected. Not everyone was interested in 
  marketing.
  
  BATTLECORPS
  Crossroads at Outreach • Page 22
  Turning his back slightly to Reema, he lowered his voice. “But 
  everyone?” 
  “I know we’re running about a hundred and thirty percent on 
  the support personnel,” Ariel said in her real voice, not Peregrine 
  Junior’s clipped cadence, and equally low. “But we can afford new 
  fatigues. And another week’s wages. Let’s table personnel deci-
  sions until after the evaluation.”
  
  BATTLECORPS
  Crossroads at Outreach • Page 23
  Proving Grounds 
  Outreach 
  Chaos March 
  18 November 3066
  The knot in Ariel’s stomach showed little sign of letting up.
  The cockpit of her Huron Warrior was still cool; her cautious 
  probe into the exercises area of operations had so far generated 
  little heat. She knew that would change once contact was made.
  She scanned the shadows ahead, where great boulders from the 
  escarpment had tumbled almost to the edge of the woods, form-
  ing an improbable cairn. Probably constructed to make the terrain 
  as complex as possible. There were a couple of pockets where a 
  BattleMech that had been in position long enough with its reactor 
  banked would be nearly invisible to both infrared and visual scans.
  Visuals might be tricky as well. The Broadsword Legion’s ‘Mechs 
  were painted a gunmetal grey; lighter than the Irregulars’, but close 
  enough that in the heat of battle friendly fire could be a danger.
  Satisfied the shallow caves were empty, Ariel moved forward. 
  She angled left to the open ground while Jacques circled to the 
  right of the boulders, skirting the edge of the woods.
  Ariel had originally offered the opposing force position to 
  Smithson’s Chinese Bandits. However, her father’s old friend 
  Colonel Gubser had confessed her unit wasn’t yet up to giving 
  the Chaos Irregulars a fair showing. Having lost eighty percent of 
  the Hussars on Acamar, Ariel thought she had some sense of how 
  Colonel Gubser must feel. Still, she had been free, fighting in her 
  Huron Warrior when the Hussars had gone down. The colonel had 
  been a prisoner, unable to lead or help as nearly her entire com-
  mand was destroyed on Small World. 
  Ariel had been shocked by how diminished the older woman 
  seemed.
  Instead, their request for an opposing force had been taken up by 
  the Broadsword Legion, a mixed regiment of former ComStar war-
  riors who had resigned, taking their ‘Mechs with them, when Prince 
  Victor had become Precentor Martial. The Legion fielded heavier 
  BattleMechs than the Chaos Irregulars, many of them equipped 
  with improved communication, command, and control suites. 
  
  BATTLECORPS
  Crossroads at Outreach • Page 24
  Interestingly for a battalion of ComStar veterans, the Broadsword 
  Legion had not contested the default “Green” rating by request-
  ing an evaluation. No doubt their reputation and their resources 
  obviated the need.
  Normally the Irregulars wouldn’t stand a chance against such 
  a force. But as the Broadsword’s commander Colonel Marita had 
  pointed out, it was unlikely the Irregulars would ever be hired to 
  combat a regiment of technologically advanced heavy ‘Mechs. 
  She’d assured them the company the Broadsword Legion provid-
  ed for the evaluation exercise would be as closely matched to the 
  Irregulars as possible.
  Extrapolating from the stats on the Broadswords available on 
  MercNet, Ariel and Captain Jacoam had concluded the Legion’s 
  closest match would still outclass them in every dimension with 
  the possible exception of speed. However, as Jacoam had pointed 
  out, conducting themselves well against such a superior force, 
  gaining even a partial victory, would carry more weight with the 
  Mercenary Review and Bonding Commission than rolling over a 
  lesser unit. They’d accepted the bid.
  The evaluation exercise with which the MRBC had tasked the 
  Chaos Irregulars required a company to penetrate an area held 
  by a company of the Broadsword Legion and reach an assigned 
  target with as many BattleMechs as possible in the allotted time. 
  So that recon and intel assessment skills could also be evaluated, 
  there would be three possible locations for the target within the 
  operations area and not enough time to thoroughly scout before 
  the company was committed.
  Confident of Captain Jacoam and his force covering her left 
  flank, Ariel bent the considerable scanners of her Huron Warrior 
  ahead, prying information from the shadowed woods. Nothing. 
  Something. At extreme range, heavy metal retreated away and to 
  her left. Dropping back in front of the Chaos Irregulars’ advance. 
  Without a word, she transmitted the data readout to her com-
  mand.
  With one day to practice before the evaluation, Jacoam had advo-
  cated borrowing a page from the Broadsword’s command structure. 
  The Broadswords organized their companies into demi-companies 
  of six ‘Mechs each. The demi-companies further divided into three 
  combat pairs as the situation required. Since the former Strikers 
  and Hussars had not yet fully integrated their fighting styles, he’d 
  suggested they form their own demi-companies.
  
  BATTLECORPS
  Crossroads at Outreach • Page 25
  On the face of it Ariel had disliked the idea. It ran counter to the 
  unity they’d been trying to establish. But she had to admit the 
  unity was not yet seamless and the evaluation exercise was one 
  place they did not want those seams to show.
  They’d organized their two task forces—a designation Ariel had 
  insisted on to avoid any implication of permanence to the ar-
  rangement—to each include scout, attack, and support elements, 
  allowing them to function independently. Force One consisted 
  of Lieutenant Grainger Christian in his Specter as recon, she in 
  her Huron Warrior, Davis in his Phoenix Hawk and Jacques in his 
  7M Trebuchet as attack, and two slower mediums, a Hunchback 
  and a Whitworth, trailing as support. Master Sergeant Chowla’s 
  Mongoose served recon for Force Two, while Jacoam in his 
  Grasshopper, Clint in his 5A Quickdraw and Jarrae Heather in her 
  Quickdraw-4G made up the attack element. Force Two’s support 
  included the most advanced ‘Mech in the former Striker’s arsenal, 
  a DV-7D Dervish.
  An hour before the exercise, they’d received their “intel” on the 
  possible locations of the target and suspected distribution of de-
  fender forces. The terrain of the operations area progressed from 
  a rocky fault region along its eastern border through a narrow 
  and wooded river valley to a rolling plain in the west. There was a 
  probable target location in each of these three main divisions. 
  The Chaos Irregulars were to approach from the north, deter-
  mine which location held the target and attain it with as many 
  ‘Mechs as possible.
  From their MercNet data file, they knew the Broadsword Legion, 
  with its balance toward hard-hitting but slower ‘Mechs, preferred 
  urban combat settings. Lacking an urban option, it was likely 
  they’d select either the rocky, broken terrain of the cliff region or 
  the heavy woods along the river and avoid the plain. In fact, both 
  she and Captain Jacoam strongly suspected the easternmost lo-
  cation.
  They’d decided to make their initial approach along the eastern 
  rim of the river valley, essentially splitting the difference between 
  the eastern and central locations. Force One moved along the 
  eastern edge of the valley, skirting the dense forest, while Force 
  Two stayed slightly farther east, probing the broken land at the 
  base of the fault cliff. 
  At the last moment Ariel had split her attack element, pairing 
  Davis and his Phoenix Hawk with Christian’s Specter and assign-
  
  BATTLECORPS
  Crossroads at Outreach • Page 26
  ing them the western rim of the narrow river valley. The two would 
  be dangerously far from support, if they got in trouble only their 
  speed and mobility would keep them alive. But with the future of 
  her command riding on this engagement, she’d be a fool not to 
  have the best eyes available looking west. Just in case. 
  “Recon two: contact,” Master Sergeant Chowla’s voice broke 
  into her thoughts over the company-wide channel. “Tally two: one 
  Thug, one Cestus; map grid Quebec seventeen.”
  The Thug was Legion commander Colonel Marita’s BattleMech. 
  The Cestus was one of the smallest ‘Mechs the Broadswords 
  fielded, but it was a heavy hitter perfectly adapted for fighting in 
  broken terrain. That both should be just this side of the eastern 
  location pretty well pointed an arrow directly at their objective.
  “Cestus attempting to engage,” Chowla reported. “Evading.”
  Ariel wished the master sergeant luck. With three times the 
  mass of a Mongoose and proportionally ungodly firepower, the 
  Cestus was a formidable hunter. Particularly in the rocky terrain 
  near the cliff base, where the Mongoose could not make full use of 
  its speed. It would take all of Chowla’s purported prowess to stay 
  alive even minutes against such a hunter.
  Of course it would be Chowla who found the target location and 
  engaged the opposing commander. She’s already caught the at-
  tention of the MRBC evaluators.
  The physical inspection of the Chaos Irregulars’ BattleMechs and 
  vehicles had been flawless. The one boast of Captain Jacoam’s 
  she would never question was the proficiency of his—of their—
  tech and support personnel.
  Only Sergeant Chowla had presented a problem. But that poten-
  tial disaster had turned out...odd.
  As the inspectors had made a final review of the company of 
  Irregulars that would be taking part in the exercise, Ariel had been 
  horrified to see Chowla standing beside her Mongoose without 
  the black field jacket she’d been issued. Instead she’d worn the 
  olive drab costume she always affected, adorned with campaign 
  ribbons she could not possibly have earned, over her shorts and 
  cooling vest.
  Of course the Dragoon inspector had stopped in front of Chowla. 
  He’d glanced up at the Mongoose, then back down to the diminu-
  tive master sergeant.
  
  BATTLECORPS
  Crossroads at Outreach • Page 27
  For her part, Chowla held her position. Ramrod straight at atten-
  tion, she stared fixedly at some point in the middle distance.
  Ariel couldn’t see his face, but the Dragoon inspector clear-
  ly made a point of reading Chowla’s name from her jacket. He 
  seemed to make some sort of mental note before he moved on.
  A step behind him, Ariel made a mental note of her own. 
  Chowla’s dead-ahead stare hadn’t flickered when she passed.
  “Two Alpha to One Alpha,” Captain Jacoam’s voice came over 
  the command channel. “You’ve picked up a shadow. Guillotine on 
  your eight o’clock. Attack Two moving to intercept.”
  “Broadswords work in pairs,” she reminded her co-commander.
  “Nothing else moving,” Jacoam answered. If he resented her 
  pointing out common knowledge it didn’t show in his voice. “They 
  know we know they like pairs. May be using individual snipers to 
  throw us off.”
  Ariel was unconvinced, but let it ride. She ordered her support 
  to move closer.
  “One Alpha to Recon One,” Ariel broadcast on their frequency. 
  “See anything, Mr. Christian?”
  “Nothing moving, One Alpha,” Christian responded. “Possible 
  heavy metal stationary at extreme range to the west.”
  That would coincide with the westernmost target option.
  Broadsword command at the eastern location. Defenders of the 
  central location pulling back and to the east as they advanced. 
  Possible western defenders not moving and an apparent pincer ac-
  tion—never mind Jacoam’s belief it’s a single ‘Mech—closing from 
  the east, trying to drive them west. If there’d been any doubt...
  “Damn!” Captain Jacoam’s voice broke into her thoughts. “Target 
  the Black Knight!”
  Black Knight?
  “On it,” replied the Dervish pilot. Truman? Troutman? Ariel 
  couldn’t remember.
  On her screen she spotted Jacoam’s Grasshopper on her left 
  flank, facing away. The status readout indicated he’d already tak-
  en several hits and somehow ruined his left knee actuator.
  
  BATTLECORPS
  Crossroads at Outreach • Page 28
  He was firing his full tor-
  so, his favorite close-range 
  punch, at the base of what 
  looked to Ariel to be a pillar 
  of basalt thrusting up out 
  of the ground. At nearly 
  the same instant a volley of 
  long-range missiles, fired 
  with remarkable accuracy 
  by the Dervish at extreme 
  range, rained down on the 
  same spot. 
  Painted 
  thermally 
  by 
  Jacoam’s lasers and lit-
  erally by marker-loaded 
  missiles, a Black Knight 
  suddenly stood out clearly 
  against the shadow of the 
  rock outcropping.
  Jacoam fired his own LRMs, though the range was so close Ariel 
  was surprised the warheads had time to arm before striking. All 
  five of the missiles found their target.
  But even as they landed, the Black Knight unleashed its PPC and 
  both large lasers, hitting Jacoam’s Grasshopper solidly. Ariel’s 
  hands spasmed on her own safety-locked fire controls in sympa-
  thetic reflex. Jacoam’s status readout went black.
  The Black Knight victory was short-lived. Rounding the out-
  cropping from either side, Clint and Heather bracketed the heavy 
  ‘Mech with combined laser fire. Having already absorbed the pun-
  ishment of over twenty missiles and the Grasshopper’s lasers, its 
  status readout went black under the onslaught of six medium la-
  sers at near contact range.
  Ariel’s attention snapped from the stricken Black Knight to the top 
  of the escarpment skirting the mesa as jump jets flared. Sensors 
  identified a Guillotine inbound; thirty seconds to weapons range 
  based on current course and speed.
  If she remained stationary, which she had no intention of doing.
  “Support Two, form on Support One,” she ordered as she be-
  gan moving. “Attack Two, vector south for meet-up grid Mamba 
  fourteen.”
  
  BATTLECORPS
  Crossroads at Outreach • Page 29
  A straight drive east southeast would take the Irregulars to the 
  target. No doubt the bulk of the Broadsword forces would try to 
  prevent them, but if she formed the fastest ‘Mechs into a swift as-
  sault lance...
  “Recon One to One Alpha,” Lieutenant Christian’s voice was crisp 
  efficiency. “Lance heavy metal, extreme range west, Domino four-
  teen, in motion north northeast.”
  “Copy that,” Ariel answered. “Make best time to meet up main 
  force grid...” she computed vectors and terrain quickly, ‘’Mamba 
  fifteen.”
  “One Beta to One Alpha,” Davis’s voice cut in. “Captain, check 
  west bogie vector.”
  Ariel scrolled the terrain screen west and overlaid Christian’s 
  data on the four Broadsword BattleMechs’ position and motion. 
  They weren’t heading to intercept. They were moving to close be-
  hind the Irregular force. That didn’t make sense. Unless...
  “Recon Two to Two Alpha!”
  Ariel tabled her shock that Chowla was alive.
  “Go, Recon Two.”
  “Grid Rodeo nineteen is empty,” Chowla reported, static wash-
  ing over her voice in waves. “Repeat: No joy eastern target.”
  “Chaos Irregulars, wheel right,” Ariel ordered. “Attack Two, redi-
  rect. Form on Attack One best time.”
  Which meant they’d have to roll over the Guillotine closing from 
  the same direction.
  The Broadsword Legion wouldn’t have invested so much in con-
  vincing the Irregulars the target was in the eastern location if it 
  was in the relatively close river valley option. That left only one 
  place, the one they’d been—predictably, she now realized—dis-
  missing from the start.
  On her screen she saw the Guillotine turning to meet the unex-
  pected challenge from behind. From what she’d seen, the brace of 
  Quickdraws needed no help from the rest of the company. She put 
  them from her mind and focused on the next move.
  Now it was a race. And the Broadswords, intent on luring the 
  Irregulars into their trap and a heartbeat fast in tripping it shut, 
  
  BATTLECORPS
  Crossroads at Outreach • Page 30
  were out of position. Quickly marshalling her assets, Ariel fired a 
  string of commands, reshaping her force to take the western ob-
  jective before the heavier force could correct their mistake.
  Something new stirred in her, something she hadn’t felt since 
  the frozen wastes of Acamar. It took her a moment to recognize it 
  as hope.
  
  BATTLECORPS
  Crossroads at Outreach • Page 31
  Free-Hire Quarter  
  Harlech, Outreach 
  Chaos March 
  20 November 3066
  Ariel quickened her pace as she crossed the tarmac of the ve-
  hicle parking area.
  If she’d known Colonel Olstein had been planning to visit the 
  compound, she would have donned her dress uniform. Then she 
  remembered she didn’t have a dress uniform. 
  Her old Peregrine’s Hussars green and gold had been fine last 
  week, before the Chaos Irregulars had decided on their own col-
  ors. Until they decided on a dress uniform as well, black fatigues 
  were going to have to do. She hoped they presented a profes-
  sional and businesslike air.
  Unlike Master Sergeant Chowla. 
  Ariel saw the woman, still wearing her olive drab costume over 
  her issue black shirt and trousers, checking in with the sentry, her 
  back to Colonel Olstein standing only a few meters away.
  Evidently Chowla saw her as well, though she didn’t look in Ariel’s 
  direction. Receiving her ID back from the sentry, she headed for 
  the parked transports, a path that would keep her as far from her 
  captain as possible while crossing the open area.
  And of course Colonel Olstein was looking after the fleeing ser-
  geant, his head cocked slightly to one side, when Ariel arrived.
  “Did your sergeant wear that jacket during the formal inspec-
  tion?” he asked after they’d exchanged greetings.
  “Yes,” Ariel answered simply as she conducted her visitor to-
  ward the mess hall and the ad hoc command offices. 
  She chose not to go into how Captain Jacoam had prevented 
  her from reprimanding Chowla. Had told her he would publicly 
  refute her if she tried. Willing to split the command, split the unit 
  before it had fully formed, simply to protect a subordinate he was 
  involved with. It had horrified Ariel, still did, and put Jacoam’s 
  commitment to the Irregulars in question. 
  But that was an in-house issue. She would never breathe a word of 
  it to anyone outside the Chaos Irregulars. Not even Colonel Olstein.
  
  BATTLECORPS
  Crossroads at Outreach • Page 32
  She realized she’d missed what he’d just said.
  “I’m sorry?”
  “I said a family jacket like that is an arcane tradition—I’ve seen 
  only a few score, and none in the last decade. I imagine it would 
  carry weight with Wolf’s Dragoons,” Olstein repeated. “I’m sure 
  it’s not the original, but they respect a tradition like that.”
  Ariel’s mind skidded.
  “Master Sergeant Chowla pilots a Mongoose,” Ariel said, some-
  thing of a non sequitur, but as close to a relevant response to her 
  mentor’s remark as she could muster. 
  “Then, if I counted those ribbons correctly,” Olstein said, nodding 
  as she held the door to the building for him. “She’s the seventh 
  generation of Chowla to be its pilot.”
  Ariel lost the colonel’s next sentence to shock. 
  That olive drab jacket wasn’t a costume; it was a family memo-
  rial. Why the hell hadn’t Jacoam explained that instead of making 
  his grandstand scene about splitting the command? 
  Because he thought I knew full well what it was, she realized 
  with her next step. He assumed I just didn’t give a damn because 
  Chowla wasn’t a Hussar. 
  They were going to have to work on their communication skills.
  “...Chowla,” Olstein was saying. “I’ll check the University data 
  files. In seven generations there should be some record.”
  “Let me know what you find out,” Ariel said, indicating the door 
  to her office. Or her office as long as Pauls and Davis stayed busy 
  elsewhere. She suspected they would until either Colonel Olstein 
  left or she called them in.
  “One thing I found out this morning was a new unit posted to the 
  Hiring Hall,” Olstein said, taking the proffered chair. “Mixed light 
  battalion, provisionally regular and reliable with Dragoon rating of 
  C. Very well done, Captain.”
  “Thank you, sir,” Ariel said, taking her own—Davis’s—chair. “But 
  it wasn’t a solo effort.”
  “Come now, I saw the raw data,” Olstein waved her modesty away. 
  “I know the source of your Irregulars’ new-found discipline.”
  
  BATTLECORPS
  Crossroads at Outreach • Page 33
  “Well, sir, I disagree,” she countered, glad her complexion con-
  cealed the pleased flush warming her face despite her words. “The 
  Chaos Irregulars earned that ranking through the efforts of every 
  member of the team.”
  Olstein nodded, once, conceding the discussion without chang-
  ing his position.
  “Do you suppose your mixed light battalion would be interested 
  in some work inside the Free Worlds League?” he asked.
  “The Free Worlds League?” Ariel was taken slightly aback. Given 
  Olstein’s opinion of the FWL military—so like her father’s—it had 
  never occurred to her he’d bring her a job offer from that quarter.
  “A corporate contract, not state,” Olstein was saying. “Ronin, 
  Incorporated. Their plant on Wallis manufactures a very reliable, 
  very accurate light Gauss rifle.”
  Ariel nodded; she was familiar with the weapon. On the other 
  hand, she’d never heard of Ronin producing anything but machine 
  guns. When had that bit of diversification come about?
  “And they have no security?” she asked, focusing on the poten-
  tial job.
  “Irian Security has allocated a single lance of heavy ‘Mechs,” 
  Olstein answered. “And there’s a battalion of Marik Militia on plan-
  et. But the Ronin plant has still been subject to pirate raids.”
  “Pirate raids?” Ariel couldn’t keep the surprise from her voice. 
  “Plural?”
  Olstein nodded.
  Repeated successful pirate raids with a battalion already on 
  planetary garrison implied the defenders’ communications were 
  compromised. Or the defending force itself.“Damage from the 
  last raid held up production for several weeks,” he said. “They 
  want to have their own military force in place. Their hope is its 
  very presence will prevent trouble, but if trouble arrives they 
  want enough firepower to defend themselves without waiting 
  for the militia.”
  Ariel nodded.
  “Now if all your Irregulars do is garrison the production facility, 
  you will be paid standard scale wages,” her mentor added. “But 
  if you chose to hunt down the pirates and perhaps make puni-
  
  BATTLECORPS
  Crossroads at Outreach • Page 34
  tive raids, Ronin Incorporated is willing to pay substantial prize 
  money.”
  “The Chaos Irregulars lack both DropShips and JumpShips,” 
  Ariel pointed out.
  “For hunting pirates,” Olstein said, “Ronin would supply both.”
  Ariel nodded again, thoughtfully.
  “I’ll have to talk with my people,” she said at last.
  
  BATTLECORPS
  Crossroads at Outreach • Page 35
  Inland South District  
  Harlech, Outreach 
  Chaos March 
  20 November 3066
  “What you got?” Jake asked baldly.
  Clairmont chuckled as though the MechWarrior had made a 
  small joke and adjusted the position of his beer mug.
  The ersatz dive was pretty much as Jake had left it a week ago. 
  The same paid regulars were in place and the same bored bar-
  tender had pulled his pint of dark. New this week was a small knot 
  of tourists nervously enjoying their brush with the dark side of 
  Outreach. 
  The romantic couple had been replaced with an obese man who 
  appeared to be asleep.
  Jake took a swallow of beer and waited a three count. Then he 
  shifted his weight to rise.
  “Someone was impressed with your evaluation,” Clairmont said.
  Jake settled back in his chair.
  “A lot of folks are,” he said. 
  Clairmont chuckled again. Evidently Jake was a funny guy.
  But the Chaos Irregulars had gotten seven BattleMechs 
  to the objective. In the process they’d destroyed two of the 
  Broadsword’s heavies and crippled two more, a respectable 
  trade for the loss of one heavy, his, and three mediums. Not to 
  mention proving to the world they had a Mongoose jockey who 
  could make a fool of a Cestus using cover that would make an 
  infantry trooper despair.
  “Someone is interested in forming a private reinforced battalion,” 
  Clairmont said casually.
  Jake took a thoughtful pull on his beer to cover his shock. Who 
  would need a reinforced battalion? One of the worlds in the Chaos 
  March was his first guess, though nothing said the someone was 
  local. A corporation? He let the thought go and just looked expec-
  tantly at Clairmont.
  
  BATTLECORPS
  Crossroads at Outreach • Page 36
  “It’s a daunting goal, of course,” the broker said. “But they are 
  willing to invest, heavily, in creating a substantial fighting force of 
  their own.”
  “How?”
  “By cherry picking talented lances and individuals from 
  TempTown,” Clairmont answered as though it were obvious. “And 
  assembling their own unit.”
  “Can’t cherry pick anyone from the Irregulars.”
  “They were thinking of cherry picking all of the Irregulars,” 
  Clairmont surprised Jake by actually knocking back a swallow of 
  beer. “They need a solid core to build on and they liked your per-
  formance on the proving grounds.”
  Not my performance, Jake thought. 
  Instead he said: “Sounds like a long-term project.”
  “They’re looking to their long game,” Clairmont conceded. 
  “Several months, perhaps a year, of bringing in new lances and 
  molding them all into a new whole.”
  “The leadership of this solid core would lead this reinforced bat-
  talion or whatever it is?”
  “That goes without saying.”
  Jake shook his head.
  “Sounds like a lot of training and drilling,” he observed. “Not to 
  mention babysitting.”
  “There would be occasional missions to bloody the unit,” 
  Clairmont said. “But, yes, the bulk of the time would be spent here 
  on Outreach. However, the funds will be available for extensive 
  refurbishing and upgrading of equipment.”
  “Ah.”
  Jake sat and thought, nursing his bear. 
  Clairmont seemed to be checking appointments on his noteputer.
  New blood to the Irregulars wasn’t as big a draw as it might 
  have been, given their size. The Irregulars were really all new 
  blood at this point. But more ‘Mechs would keep his support 
  techs employed. Their techs were good enough Clairmont’s offer 
  
  BATTLECORPS
  Crossroads at Outreach • Page 37
  of refurbishment carried little weight. However, upgrades were a 
  different matter entirely. You could never have enough upgrades.
  On the other hand, bloodying sorties notwithstanding, it sound-
  ed like a long and dull duty. At least until the private army was 
  ready to move toward whatever objective the client had in mind.
  That last could be a sticking point, one Jake would nail down 
  before commitment. But first:
  “What kind of money we talking?”
  “Scale,” Clairmont held up a hand at Jake’s snort. “Plus twenty 
  percent, plus all the new equipment and weapons upgrades you 
  can make a case for.”
  Jake shifted his weight to rise again.
  “I’ll have to talk to my people,” he said.
  Clairmont shrugged slightly.
  “The offer’s on the table for twenty-four hours,” he said. “After 
  that the employers will be looking for someone more decisive.”
  
  BATTLECORPS
  Crossroads at Outreach • Page 38
  Free-Hire Quarter  
  Harlech, Outreach 
  Chaos March 
  20 November 3066
  A civilian taxi was pulling away from the compound gate as Jake 
  strolled up, an officer in a uniform he didn’t recognize in the back. 
  Ariel, not Peregrine Junior, was standing by the sentry box, look-
  ing as pleased with herself as he’d ever seen.
  “Interesting visit?” he asked.
  “Very,” she confirmed. “We need to talk.”
  Jake suspected from the glint in her eye she had news very simi-
  lar to his. When it rains...
  As they crossed the mess hall, Reema rose from a solitary table 
  and moved to intercept. Ariel ceded command to Peregrine Junior 
  at the sight of her. Jake could see her spine straighten as the PPC 
  slid into place. For her part, Reema fell silently in step on his op-
  posite side.
  As they reached the door to the back rooms, Peregrine Junior’s 
  hand shot ahead, beating Reema’s to the knob. Without a word 
  she pulled the door open and came to full attention, eyes front.
  What the hell?
  Whatever it was, Reema got it. She brought herself to full atten-
  tion and stepped smartly through the door.
  Jake waited a moment, but Peregrine Junior showed no sign of 
  moving. With a slight shrug to no one in particular, he followed his 
  sergeant into the office area.
  “Ever hear of Ludwigshafen?” Davis asked as Ariel shut the door. 
  “Something like a Bratwurst?” Jake asked.
  Davis and Pauls had wasted no time in reclaiming their work-
  space once Ariel had shown her guest out. Jake could see Pauls 
  was organizing individual performance reports into a spread-
  sheet, while Davis appeared to be jacked into the Hiring Hall’s 
  news net.
  
  BATTLECORPS
  Crossroads at Outreach • Page 39
  “It’s a world in the Lyran Alliance,” Davis said, tilting his com-
  puter screen to the others. “Backside of their Coventry Province. 
  They just offered us a job.”
  Jake read the screen, Ariel at his elbow. The initial credit amounts 
  were high, but otherwise it looked like a standard opening offer for 
  a planetary defense gig—not unlike the ink that had landed them 
  on Acamar. Until he got to the paragraph about “possible sorties 
  to other worlds” and saw the bonus money involved. Triple any-
  thing he’d ever worked for.
  “Pull up a map,” he ordered.
  Pauls left his station and joined the others as the holoimage of 
  an unfamiliar star field filled the screen.
  “Brooloo, Gatineu, Mississauga,” he read. “Nothing rings a bell.”
  “New Capetown.” Peregrine Junior’s voice held a bitter edge.
  Jake grunted noncommittally. The name, like all the others, 
  meant nothing to him.
  “Master Sergeant,” Jake was startled by his co-commander’s 
  strange mix of Peregrine Junior and Ariel’s voices. “Your family 
  saw service against the Lyrans. Can you tell us anything about 
  this region?”
  “We never got that far in, ma’am.”
  Ma’am? 
  Jake filed speculation under “do later” and focused on the job 
  offer.
  “It’s a cinch the real job’s the raids, whatever they are,” he said. 
  “Price is enough to overcome most objections,” Davis observed. 
  “While the fact that it’s routed to us means it’s something more 
  experienced units would turn down.”
  “Maybe have already turned down,” Pauls agreed.
  “Or,” Reema said. “They want a unit no one has heard about—
  make sure the locals don’t know what to expect.”
  The five studied the incommunicative star field for a moment.
  “Our first job offer,” Davis said.
  
  BATTLECORPS
  Crossroads at Outreach • Page 40
  “Second,” countered Ariel.
  “Third,” Jake said and turned to Reema.
  The master sergeant shrugged, spreading her empty hands.
  “It looks,” said Ariel, hooking a chair with her foot and pulling it 
  to her, “as though we have a decision to make.”
  
  BATTLECORPS
  Crossroads at Outreach • Page 41
  THE CHOICES:
  1. Remain on Outreach and become the core, and leaders, of 
  a new and larger force. This will involve extensive training and 
  several small scale sorties to nearby objectives. Benefits include 
  steady pay for little danger; upgraded equipment, vehicles and 
  weapons systems; leadership of a larger force.
  2. Defend Ronin Incorporated’s Light Gauss Rifle Plant on Wallis. 
  This would involve garrison duty and one or more pirate hunting 
  missions. Benefits include base pay but potential high pay and 
  bonuses for successful anti-pirate missions. Also, having a pre-
  mier weapons manufacturer grateful to you can open the door to 
  greater opportunity.
  3. Garrison Ludwigshafen and take part in possibly very lucra-
  tive raids against an unknown target. Benefits include very high 
  pay and bonuses.
  For more information on voting for the  
  Chaos Irregulars next contract, click here.
  
SOURCE: textdata/thevault/BattleTech [multi]/EXTRA/Novels/Battlecorps Novels/Chaos Irregulars Bk 2 - 1st Deployment Pt 1 - Crossroads at Outreach - Kevin Killiany.pdf