historical

With everyone securely strapped in, the lander was ready for its final checks before launch. Wrath of Carb also wouldn’t leave the area until they were over the horizon, in case any attempt to assassinate the prisoners was made. With his array of weaponry, he was able to shoot down most types of missiles that might be fired at the lander, a small bit of extra security for Max’s trip back home.

Without the urgent rush of combat, the Lander lifts smoothly off the ground and makes the transition from an anti-gravity field hover to forward flight. In order to get enough fuel to make orbit, they had to drain most of the Cygnus light mecha that still had intact tanks and bring their own light mecha down below a quarter tank, and even at that, they were going to be close on fuel levels if they have to do much additional maneuvering.

Fuel planning for the landers assumes that they will be coming back up the same weight or lighter than when they landed, to account for combat losses and light mecha usage during combat. That wasn’t at all the case for their unit, so improvisation was needed.

Most of the passengers in the officer’s room are silent as they launch, tense about their launch being discovered and attacked by one side or the other, but Nico and General Kirkland are having a polite conversation about interior decoration of all things.

They are both of the belief that the standard drab color scheme is not optimal for a pilot’s mental focus, believing that a wider variety of colors, as well as warm and relaxing tones, would help pilots to feel at ease. When pilots are more relaxed, they should be more in tune with their mecha, which will lead to lower fatigue levels, more attentiveness as well as decreased reaction times.

The other Generals seem amused at the way that they are subtly probing each other for control tricks and the limitations of their respective mecha, but the infantry officers that are there to supervise the Cygnus officers just look a bit horrified at the implications of increased pilot efficiency. Even slightly more deadly mecha just means an even more brutal massacre for them.

“Lady Tarith, is it true that you painted skulls on the bottom of your Crusader’s feet to terrify enemy light mecha in combat?” One of the Colonels they captured asks, making all the members of Max’s force laugh.

“On the contrary, the feet of Tartith’s Rage have smiley faces painted on them. For a Kinder, Gentler form of intimidation.” Nico disagrees, making Max snort in laughter.

“But Tarith’s Rage is hardly noteworthy as a Mecha, other than its ancient manufacture. I haven’t even customized it yet, the pattern is the same as it was a thousand years ago. Most of the mecha in our unit underwent upgrades during the battle, either due to lack of munitions or for increased firepower.” she continues with a big smile which makes the Cygnus officers frown._.

“We noticed. That Stalwart piloted by Captain Max is a fine example of battlefield ingenuity, using our own Plasma Shotguns against us to offset the weakness of a fully ranged Crusader in close combat.” General Kirkland says with a slightly sour tone.

“Don’t take it the wrong way General, I would have used Kepler close combat weapons if I had them handy, but we had such a fine collection of Plasma Shotguns that it would have been a waste not to make good use of them. Just wait, before the next battle, I’m going to teach him the art of kicking mecha in the face.” Nico laughs, making the slender and gray-haired General Kirkland smile a little.

“I’ve heard that the Kepler pilots’ so-called System Functions can do wonderful things, but I don’t think that just anyone can accurately handle a mecha during that sort of extreme maneuver. Just the turn to actually land the kick has to be near 3 times standard gravity inside the cockpit. That’s why we switched to neural links instead of control suits, while your Crusaders still use hand controls.” he counters.

“When you only weigh 35 kilos, you don’t need much strength to perform mecha-based acrobatics.” one of the other Generals snickers, looking over to where Nico’s head doesn’t even reach the headrest of the seats, being pressed against the back rest by the launch forces that aren’t being fully dampened by the gravity control of the lander.

“You wouldn’t want to face her in a basketball game.” Max agrees, reminding the others that he is in the room. He might be in command, but she is the only one with anything resembling a noble title as far as Max knows, and Cygnus values that over military rank.

The lander transitions to zero gravity as it leaves the atmosphere and the warning alarm sounds.

[Gravity Field adjustment Failure. Please service at your soonest convenience.]

The polite notification for a situation that could well kill anyone inside the lander in case of an emergency landing brings a bit of levity to the assembled troops in the main chamber, before it is followed a few seconds later by a navigational update.

[3 minutes to docking with the Abraham Kepler]

“They must be anxious to meet us if they’ve come that close to the atmosphere. I don’t suppose you have an outside viewer to show us the situation between the fleets?” General Kirkland asks, but Max shakes his head.

“They were damaged during the landing. We’re almost flying blind up here. But the navigation system checked out, and we still have access to the automated system, should we need to make adjustments.”

“That’s fine then. Lady Tarith, are you betrothed yet? I have a son who would benefit greatly from a personality like yours.” General Kirkland changes the topic with a sly wink.

Nico laughs at his alliance suggestion, knowing it’s just a joke. Both Imperial families would have to approve of such a union, and the two countries were officially at war 4 days ago.

“Unfortunately, that’s not an option. Though I hear Captain Catan here, younger son of Baron Catan is in dire need of a pretty, young bride now that his term of service is coming to a close.” Nico teases, making the infantry Captain blush a little, highlighting the scars on his face.

“Where did you hear that? I hid my family lineage when I applied.”

Now it is Max that is laughing. “You thought you could hide anything from Nico Tarith? You were deluding yourself. She likely looked through your mother’s photo album before trusting you with unsupervised command of Bravo Company.”

In fact, she had. Young Captain Garrett’s mother practically lived to post photos on the net, she had seen hundreds of the Captain’s childhood photos once she knew where to look on the Kepler data networks.

“Your mother is a skilled photographer.” she commends, showing everyone a photo of him in his kindergarten uniform.

General Kirkland is having a great laugh at Captain Catan’s expense. “See boys, this is the kind of banter a unit should have. They’re not stuck on rank or protocol, they’re a proper officers corps.”

From there on out, the conversation is light, often about family, while the trials of war and the battle that brought this odd group together are ignored. It’s almost a disappointment when the lander docks with the Abraham Kepler and the orders to disembark come.

[All arriving units fall in for inspection. Officers and guests hold fast in the secured quarters for further instructions.]

[You heard the automated notice. All units, exit the lander and fall in. Full checks will be done before you are assigned quarters.] Max calls over the intercoms.

While they wait with the Cygnus officers, the rest of the force slowly makes their way to the check-in area just outside the lander docks to have all their war spoils documented and the remaining company equipment and munitions, as well as casualties, injuries, and survivors inventoried. The check-in process will take hours, even though the infantry can go when they themselves are done and the mecha will get a full diagnostic later when they are in the repair bays.

A Kepler supply officer comes over to inspect the returning forces, turning to Captain Catan, who is the senior officer present. “Impressive troops. Is it just me, or are these troops better equipped after the battle than when they left?”

“We believe, as Kepler Infantry, in being ready for anything. As such, we scrounge the battlefield for everything useful and add it to our own equipment. If you look over to your left, you’ll see our newly acquired troop transport vehicles.” Captain Catan informs him with a smile, pointing at the missile buggies.

“Those are still infantry transports? How many do they hold?”

“Military Secret, I’m afraid. Not as many as stock, but the missile pods didn’t take up too much capacity.” The supply officer nods, knowing already how many the stock version can hold and not particularly caring what Bravo Company chose to do with their equipment, except the munitions capacity that will be needed to resupply them.

The signal is given that the Cygnus officers can be led out of the secure areas, and everyone straightens their uniforms and puts their hats back on, getting presentable to meet with whatever political dignitaries have been sent to greet the Generals.

“Generals, Imperial Highness, Captain Max, Lady Tarith. It is good to see your trip went safely.” A politician in Cygnus’s official government uniform greets them as he approaches.

“Ah, Jervis, good to see you here. Please do escort us to the ransom meeting” General Kirkland replies, making the man’s eye twitch. Clearly, Jervis is not this man’s name.

“This way, Sirs and Madam.” He intones, motioning towards the far door.

Nico frowns, knowing that now there is no escape, she will be stuck in meetings until the small hours of the morning. Max gives her an amused smile, secretly glad that he doesn’t have to suffer half a day of political nonsense alone. He is very good with troops, but with lifelong politicians and trade negotiations involving planets that he has never, and likely will never see? He really doesn’t see any good reason for him to be there, except that he is the one who accepted their surrender.

“Now that everyone is here, the final discussion can begin. Does anyone have any special requests before we begin drawing up the agreement?”

“The pilot of Stalwart must be given a title. It cannot be said that we surrendered to a commoner, even if there were other nobles present at the time.” One of the Generals insists.

“Simple enough. Anything else? No, then we can begin.”

The discussions from the fifty or so people present went on for hours, and frankly, everyone is sick of sitting here. Except for a few bureaucrats, they are not doing anything but lending a title to the official record of the proceedings.

“You look a bit bored Lady Tarith, might I ask what’s on your mind?” General Kirkland whispers when he notices that Nico has totally zoned out.

“If I had just squished you I could be eating dinner right now,” Nico whispers back with a big grin, making the man laugh out loud and interrupt the proceedings.

“Something amusing about the transfer of mining materials in exchange for textiles? Lord General Kirkland, Lady Tarith?” The head negotiator asks.

“Battlefield humor good sir. Please, do continue.” Nico says in her best formal voice, causing a round of low laughter at the lifelong politicians that have been appointed to head the meeting, who are the only people in the room that were not a soldier at some point, while also being the only ones that actually need to be here right now.

At least they brought in a fine buffet, suitable for politicians and senior officers soon after. The negotiations continue for nine hours in total, and the outline of the agreement is over forty pages long, but it is finally complete.

“It was a pleasure shooting at you Gentlemen, enjoy your trip and I hope to meet you again on better terms.” Nico waves farewell as the Cygnus contingent head for their shuttle, making Max and the Kepler delegation facepalm.

“Likewise, Lady Tarith. Perhaps you might get to enjoy our hospitality next time.” General Kirkland replies with a smile and a bow.