Chapter 12
The Machine Spirits
TDR-9393
The Knighthold
17th September, 3023
Months of minor work on this dustball, almost beyond charted space, and the Knighthold had become almost a viable facility in it's own right. The planetary government had no difficulty deeding the land to us in exchange for the occasional supply runs with our normal business for medicines and other basic necessities.
Even so nothing of importance was ever moved down to the Knighthold without the Dropship capable of moving them right off again. But today was special. For over a month Dekker had been imprinting properly on the Throne Mechanicus as the Styrix was brought online. To my consternation however Dekker had decided to adopt the pseudo-religious naming scheme for it, settling for the Knight Lazarus.
The sacristans were in full regalia, and the reflection chamber had seen Dekker through the full trials we had been able to only partly put Behemoth through. I looked across the compount at the Knight Templar as it stood still, watching the closed cargo doors of the Knighthold as I stood across from her in the Preceptor doing the same. My people milled about in curiosity as they watched the events unfold, the neo-gothic proceedings steeped in that almost religious air.
Before the doors stood the Sacristans themselves who were not part of the closeted initiation ceremony, behind them, on knees, were the supplicants who had requested a chance to become pilots of the three Armigers. Medusa, Warspite and Spike.
My mind turned back to the logistics of the situation, the Star Lord had arrived four days ago bearing a Merchant clamped to it's collars, Markham had hired a crew that had been smart enough to take on a few commissions on its way here. The name born on it's hull the Divine Right. The cold shudder in my bones at the name Markham had given it was playing right into the unspoken theme of our mercenary group.
With it, we had the Warden's Rest and the Hysteria. Neither of which would do to move the cargo we wanted. But it left me with an interesting conundrum. Both a question of defence and offence.
The Star Lord was, itself, unarmed. The Warden's Rest could carry eight mechs, the Leman Russes and our two Aerospace, with the Hysteria carrying another four mechs. Of the twelve spaces for mechs, fully half was now suited for the Knight Cadres.
That left us with four mechs.
But did not this place need at least a token defence?
The sound of metal stress tore my attention away from the logistics and back towards the ceremony. The cargo doors opened and the sight of the Knight Lazarus filled me with a cold sensation, though as with Behemoth, the Throne Mechanicum bound him in loyalty, I knew the temperament of the machine my uncle had devised. A mean spirited and vicious warlord that I simply could not have allowed Glitch to pilot. She'd have lost herself in the manifold of it's surging cruelties. Dekker, I expected Dekker would act as a damper against the machines worst tendencies.
I felt my weapons twitch in anticipation as the Knight Lazarus was brought to power.
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Dekker
The training never prepared me for this, not really, even with the Throne Mechanicum whispering in my mind I had not been truly prepared for the tidal surge of the Lazarus' machine spirit, it crashed against my mind like a wave and I sensed the message that had been left for Warden, standing in front of me, my eyes seeing with a machines acuity and power. And yet the feelings of the machine continued to crash in waves against my mind.
An urge to crush the people before us. A desire to blast apart the prefab structures we'd assembled with the Volkite Chierovile, or rip them apart with the Hekaton Siege claw.
The carpace gun tracked and even attempted to cycle power before I quashed the urge and truly understood that I needed to surge with, and against, the spirit, to take the role of master. I quashed the impulses even as I felt them run through me, even become part of me.
Kill.
No.
KILL.
No.
MUST KILL!
No.
The machine fought with an inhuman and impossible cry of outrage before it subsided. Having wrested control and awareness from the surging machine spirit it dropped back to quiescence. The power and impulse of its thoughts still reeling. Finally I realised Trotter was trying to speak to me and I allowed the vox channels to open.
"You ok boy?"
"Spirited. I never really believed it...." I never realised until I looked at the chronometer that i'd been wrestling with the spirit for nearly ten minutes. A subconscious battle for domination that had to be won. It was then I realised that Warden was right, Glitch could never have piloted Lazarus. The pretty girl who'd ended up on the wrong side of prison walls over an ID malfunction would have relished the sensation and drowned in it's rage. "Sorry, I..."
I blasted the warhorn of the Lazarus almost as a howl of outrage itself. I noticed then how different the warhorns of each Knight was when the Templar and Preceptor both blasted their own warhorns in greeting. A sound only the machine could truly translate.
The Templar was an honourable war machine prone to fits of righteous fury and justice. The Preceptor's spirit was a noble bound in almost pure power, the knowledge it could decide wisely and spare an enemy at a crucial moment, or be driven to rage and destroy all that it beheld.
The Horn of the Lazarus didn't sound like either to me, instead it was a primal warriors call, a barbarian spirit in a civilised land. I truly wondered if i'd be able to maintain control when battle was joined. I began a slow purposeful stride and knew that the Lazarus would be between the Templar and Preceptor for speed and agility.
Stepping out into the light I felt a sensation akin to drawing a breath similar to that of being cooped up on ship between worlds. My warhorn blared again as I bowed to the Templar and Preceptor, and like that, this part of the ceremony was over.
Over but for the simmering anger cooling in the back of my skull, waiting for the time when the answer to must kill was yes.
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Medusa, Warspite and Spike were in the medical tents being surgically altered with the lesser implants required for interfacing with the Helm Mechanicum, the Armigers awaiting their pilots. It had been decided by the Sacristans, and myself, that full disclosure of the effects of the Helm Mechanicum were to be disclosed to them, but still they accepted. Even knowing that in the heat of battle I could override their own actions didn't deter them from wanting a part of what Behemoth and now Dekker had. Glitch confused at being overlooked until I explained in private my plans for her.
For now I was in a meeting with the 'command group'.
"Nice to meet you Captain Spire, sorry I couldn't engage you before now, but the celebrations we had could not be interrupted," I shook his hand and invited him to sit down, "I hope you're treating the Divine Right as she deserves."
"She's a nice ship. A bit under-gunned, I admit to being a little worried what I am going to do for defence." He admitted, "The factories that Markham had installed are operational and the people he trusted to work them have begun manufacturing. Two of the bays are factories, one for materials, two for the finished product, the last for supplies naturally."
I nodded. "Good work. And I agree on the defence angle. I am hoping to do something about that quickly."
"What did you have in mind?" He asked leaning back in the jumpseat that'd been salvaged from somewhere.
"An Achilles," I said drinking from the mug in front of me, "and a Mule for cargo transfer." He whistled lowly.
"Ambitious," He finally said processing the idea, "No plans for the last two collars?"
I froze up for a second. "Plans yes, but they're at a very raw stage, so i'm not sharing those ones yet, I need to make sure our initial plans work out first. And honestly, I need a cheap Jumpship with a single collar for moving the cargo. I don't want anybody knowing that our advanced technology we're selling is being produced here."
He nodded. "Understandable, a high-tech factory producing these lasguns on a ship with no native defences, who wouldn't take a chance at that. But a single-collar jumpship... the only one I can think of is a Comstar ship, you may as well just get an Invader, the Merchant is cheaper but is unarmed, the Invader is both plentiful, and has a couple of weapons."
"Damn." I said sitting back. "So a 500 million for an Invader, another 300 million for a Mule and 350 for the Achilles, not counting small craft, asfs, crew and consumables"
"I'd put a baseline at a billion-four for comfort, and even then, we'd need to consider recouping that sort of investment, the gravity plating was a perfect and smart play for start-up cash and some sustainable income. But right now, those royalties will basically only cover maintenance according to Markham's projections since somebody poached the design."
I admit, I chucked a mild tantrum throwing my mug across the room before calming down, Lotara Sarrin, Sumire Meyer, Darius and Yang watched impassively, both had seen far worse outbursts a the hand of much more dangerous machines. It seemed Spire was made of similar stuff.
"Lasguns are not going to be enough to cover that, let alone in advance to keep the Divine Right's secret as a factory secret."
Yang was the first to speak up. "Well, there are other options." He said considering it. "There is the shielding technology, and those gods-forsaken heat sinks your Knights use, they're insanely efficient, maybe even the reactor technology?" He said thinking hard, "Larger weapons may also be an option..."
"No." I said holding up a hand, "Our larger munitions aren't being sold if I can help it. The edge they give us is considerable." I sat back thinking, "The heat sinks might be a good idea however,... and.."
The room was caught in my thinking.
"And what?" Yang asked.
"What if we were to market some knock-off Armigers as a new Assault Mech? Replace the helm mechanicum with a Marauder's cockpit configuration, change the Thermal Spears to say, a pair of PPCs an an medium laser on top. Hell, replace the chain-cleaver with another arm carrying a pair of PPCs and we have a mech that is a danger even to Assaults."
Trotter ran the numbers. "At a mass of 85 tons, the height of a medium with the speed of a light.... we could upset some serious competition."
Darius spoke up. "Maybe, but production speed vs price vs our goals, I'm not opposed to the idea, but even if we put a hefty tag on them, could we even sell enough to make a dent in the number we're looking for. Say we price them at thirty mil, we'd need to produce and sell ... fifty? for a cool 1.5 billion" He looked down at his calculator.
Trotter ran the numbers. "If we set up a production run for them, forty million for the necessary PPCs, say another million for the cockpit parts, two million for the medium lasers and say another seven for various parts???"
I grinned. With the heat sinks?...
Darius spoke up again, "Boss, I just ran some numbers and did some cross-checking. But Achernar Battlemechs is based on New Avalon, they produce the Donal Particle Projection Cannons for the BattleAxe mech, and maybe the BattleAxe's cockpit parts would work for it?"
I checked the calendar. It'd take us another four months to reach New Avalon, and at least that again to return.
"Captain Spire, I want you to plot a least-time course back to New Avalon, and we're all coming with I have a business proposal to make."
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Markham - New Avalon
Sometimes I was terrified by the intensity of the man known as Kane Giordino, and this was one of those times. Buried in binaric encoding in a long video message about how they were coming to visit New Avalon for some R&R were some almost terrifying proposals.
The first was 'easy' enough, a request to purchase at least four hundred Donal PPCs from Achenar Battlemechs with half as many medium lasers and cockpit components for BattleAxe mechs, strangely however, not entire cockpits, only components.
The second was more difficult. By an order of magnitude. Arrange a meeting with Hanse Davion, after a short period, for a tech demonstration and business proposal, both with the head of the Federated Suns and with Achenar Battlemechs.
The audacity, and boldness of the request was why he was now sitting with Otto in the Gentlemans Club between both their officers watching twenty-somethings dance for the local currency. Being a higher end club the girls appeared quite talented, limber and eager to accomodate.
An amusing oddity given that most of the patrons, being high end businessmen, were here to discuss business as much as anything else. And when they were all too often the girls took the hint and stayed away, it hadn't taken long to learn that a local coin sitting on its edge was the keep-away sign. "Lovely place this, I really should come recreationally sometime." Otto said appreciating the current dancer on the stage.
"I can't entirely say the same, i've had a nice widower making eyes at me and sharing my bed now and again, we're getting close and it may even be serious, unfortunately, this is a good place to do business without being disturbed." I said sitting back.
"Oh, and what is it Markham, you've done well for yourself, while I weathered that raid... i'm surprised a competitor hasn't already opened shop." Neither of us were fooled, we both knew that ComStar was behind it. "So what can I help you with?"
"I would like to make an appointment for a demonstration and offer to your Cousin Hanse in the future."
Otto actually and literally choked and spluttered into his drink as he turned sharply, as did several other heads in the room. He brushed off the incident with a charming smile and a wave and the other patrons turned back to their own business, or the dancing girls. "You don't bloody ask much." Otto was actually shaken by the request, he practically hissed it in accusation.
"I was surprised when the request came through too. I debated for nearly a week whether I should even speak to you about it or pursue it through more official channels." I said sitting back regretting even thinking to ask Otto.
He calmed down and leaned back waving a hand dismissively. "No no, you just caught me by a hundred degrees of surprise, your business sense and dividends have been paying off quite well for you, and the men your financing."
I didn't bother correcting him with the revelation that I was little more than the broker for his business, the savvy face to put forwards.
"Wait... is he coming to do this demonstration?" Otto said suddenly wary.
"He is, but I assure you that he does not plan on any stunts and any actions for the presentation will be run through me and an appropriate script. We also plan on inviting the CEO of Achenar Battlemechs to the presentation and making them an offer on the subject," the salt, and now the honey, "At my suggestion, we thought that Lycomb-Davion Introtech might want a presence and to make an offer perhaps?"
Otto leaned back frowning, then looking curious. "And you'll want royalties again?"
"Truthfully, I don't know. We don't trust the secure nature of the communications, so we've kept things quiet using an encrypted cypher of our own and information short," I admitted, "I know what he wants probably won't be small."
"Oh, and how not small are we talking?"
"Three, four billion C-bills i'm guessing." Otto was goggling again. And it was no surprise, this was a big one, and it could only be a big one given the request to present directly to Hanse Davion.
"Look Markham, I've got nothing but respect for you, you helped us basically put other local aerospace companies completely out of business as real competition. But a request like this, this is not simple. It will take time to arrange..."
"He's not due to arrive for another three and a half months." I leaned back in the booth.
Otto squinted at me. "Dammit Markham, ok, I'll speak to my cousin if he spares the time to see me. I'll even speak to Doris, a friend of mine over at Acheron Battlemechs about arranging a demonstration, I don't suppose you need something in the meantime?"
"No, i've got that covered thanks Otto." I said with a grin.
"What the hell does he want to show off anyway?" Otto asked curiosity getting the better of him.
"To be fair, I have no idea, only that in his idea the only way Hanse would turn it down is if he was turned into a dribbling imbecile overnight."
Otto laughed, "I can't wait to see it."