Artru, Aurigan Trade Alliance

13 February 3154

The Highwaymen 2^nd Battalion had come back from an operation deep into former Republic space, and while the ‘mechs were slowly walking in the berths for repair and refit, a lot of the AsTech and team leaders were chattering. It got so bad that it almost covered the clattering of steel on concrete, waking up The Prof from one of his mid-day nap. The kids had kept him up most of the night again. Some old Japanese TV show had landed in, and they wanted to watch the adventures of that silly guy with a straw hat pirate. The captain and head of engineering in bay 1 enjoyed it as well, mind you, but maybe they should have stopped before the clock struck 10 Standard Hours. His wife had been out of the Castle on assignment drilling some new recruits, and he hadn’t seen the time go by. He looked at his desk, took a long swig of cold coffee before saying he shouldn’t drink anymore today (he was lying, he would probably slam another espresso before the afternoon was done) and kicked the door open carrying his datapad.

“What are you grease monkeys screaming about? This ain’t a Fire Mandrill Kindraa!” Head Tech Jorge “Fernandes” Smoke Jaguar let out a loud laugh and the AsTechs calmed down a bit. Captain Martinez’s Awesome had finished docking in the repair berth, the last one to get in. The air smelled of a mixture of grease, oil and myomer coolant as the various ‘mechs started shutting down in unison. “Hey boss”, started Tech Fernandes, “it looks like we have our work cut out for us today! The ship techs seem to have kept most of the Second’s BattleMech in working order, and we just have to redo some body work and replace some spare weapons with new parts.” Bald with a massive beard, the Head Tech looked at the greying hair of the captain as he started glancing around the different repair berth. While Etienne Siroix was not a trueborn warrior, Fernandes knew he was as good a mechwarrior as he was an engineer, and he was a damn good engineer. Jorge Fernandes had been happy to not classify as a mechwarrior, which might sound odd for a trueborn, but his true love was getting his hands into the innards of a battlemech and fix them up instead.

• Okay, what got all the grease monkeys happy, Jorge? We’ve still got them busy for at least a month with all those jobs…
• It’s the salvage, boss.
• What, did they bring in some Clan Wolf unicorn or something? An Amarok like what Yung is driving right now?
• No, most of the stuff is pretty regular republican stuff, nothing out of the ordinary.
• Did we grab an Ares and I wasn’t told?
• Let me just show you, sir.

The two men walked towards a flatbed battlemech recovery truck, where a group of chattering Katies were still going on. “Tabarnac,” started Siroix. “What is that thing?” Laying on the bed was a smallish ‘mech, probably a medium by the looks of it, built in a configuration nobody had ever seen. Each arm sported a laser, of unknown power at this point. On the right shoulder sat what could only be an autocannon, again not something that could easily be identified, but the other shoulder mounted what was clearly a Delta Dart 5-rack LRM. “Criss,ya ben des guns la-d’ssus…” The Head Engineer reverted to his form of broken French whenever he was confused, tired or over his head. Jorge knew he had swore at least twice, and had understood he was wondering how that many guns could fit on such a small ‘mech.

• They got that thing off a dropship they captured. It is brand new, still had a control tape on it when they brought it in.
• That can’t be, Jorge.
• Well, it is a new design, for sure, and it must be from the Republic’s Guard now that they are trying to retake Earth…
• It’s not a new design. C’t’un vieux criss de… You don’t know what that is, right Jorge?
• No, sir. I have never seen that design anywhere, either in the Inner Sphere forces, Periphery forces or Clan forces.
• I would hope so, that thing hasn’t been built in 600 years. That’s a Swordsman.
• A what? I never heard of that design.
• Swordsman. 25^th century Davion design, one of the very first BattleMech every built. Production date from around 2460 to 2540, when it was discontinued from service. All remaining units were destroyed over the next 200 years, they didn’t even get to the Succession Wars.
• But, sir, it is BRAND NEW. Those lasers still have the film on the diffuser heads. It would have degraded since 2540, for sure, and a down on his luck mechwarrior from House Davion would have claimed it as isorla in between…
• Well, it’s NEW, but it’s not a NEW design. Someone is building those things again… HEY YOU!

The captain interpelled one of the Second Highwaymen’s officer and called him over. The two had a quick discussion in the Hidden Language of the Flanagan’s, which Jorge couldn’t follow at all. He had not been Blooded yet, and it wasn’t in the cards for him. While the discussion was going on, one of the AsTech had opened the cokpit module of the Swordsman, which opened with a sharp click. The bomb sniffer had already gone through the battlemech, but they still used a sniffer on the interior of the cockpit, just in case. A tech had brough a cup of espressor to captain Siroix, who was done talking to the Second’s officer.

• They went to Robinson. This thing was in a shipping dropship heading off-world.
• It is not earmarked for anyone. No paint on the metal, no marking, the AsTech are saying even the neurohelmet in the cockpit is just a standard issue Mark VII.
• Those things used to be built on Robinson. I would assume whoever is in charge over there got the factory going again. Intel officer couldn’t get the manifest decrypted, they just grabbed the ‘mechs after capturing the spaceport.
• Hope this does not come back to bite us…
• Whoever this belonged to, they are half the sphere away, at best. Our common customers would not buy this thing anyways. The other three ‘mechs in that Leopard were more common designs, but still brand new. They sold the Shad and the Centurion to local mercs with a nice markup, kept the Lancelot that’s now in berth 19 to replace O’Connell’s Rifleman.

It took a moment for Etienne Siroix to get to the cockpit of the Swordsman, and he jumped in the control seat. “Cozy little thing. I think that’s actually a Stinger‘s cockpit, with minor modifications. Whoever did this knows how to refit and redesign machines. My Master Key should let me start this baby up, everyone stand back.” The slow rumble of the fusion engine started in the heart of the 40 ton machine, the control console lighting up. “Start recording. Captain’s log, unidentified Swordsman, first start. Running pretty cool, this baby’s got doubles. Jorge cannot fit in this cockpit to assist, I will doing the eval on my own. No need to do the big neurohelmet calibration, anyways this is Mark VII, so it doesn’t need anything fancy. Cockpit is small, but I think it is built to modern specifications, easy to get to everything. Cycling through the primary power-up, weapons are coming up. The old Swordsman was overgunned, an AC/5, two meds, a 4-tubes, a 5-tubes and a cockpit-mounted small laser. This baby doesn’t have the small laser or the 4-tubes. Well, well, that wasn’t a Delta, that was a Holly 5-Multi. Not my favorite, but it comes in handy. Let’s see, those are Martells, of course, but it’s the semi-fancy ones. Extended range, Inner Sphere. Again, not my favorite, but this thing might not run hot to begin with. The other shoulder… Again, fancy. A Mydron Snakekiller 55mm light autocannon. 5-class. Trade the range for making it actually light enough. Alright, let’s get this baby up. Open the bay doors and let me get into the training range.”

The 40 tons giant slowly got to a standing position as the flatbed truck tilted down. Even without a full neurohelmet calibration, the machine reacted to Siroix’s command properly. It took a few steps without trouble towards the bay doors which were slowly cranking open. Captain Siroix didn’t like piloting as much as people thought. He preferred sitting at his desk looking at datapads and blueprints and sneaking new ways of surprising customers. Sensor data flowed in, nothing unusual came up. He started pushing the throttle up, and he was surprised by the reaction speed of the machine. The Swordsman from the datapad and BattleROMs he had seen were slow beasts, this one was pushing 50 klicks an hour at walking throttle. “They stuck a 200 on it. Likely a Nissan from a Centurion. Guess that’s where that saved weight went.” Siroix sent an order to the command tower to start the training ground base course, just to test the machine. The missiles readied themselves in the launcher while the autocannon cycled for the first time, loading a burst of 3 55mm shells. Holographic targets popped up, giving the silhouette of a Wolfhound, a Griffin and a Demolisher tank. 5 short range missiles flew straight towards the light ‘mech, followed by the 55mm shells. “Little loud, that Snakekiller, probably needs to adjust the neurohelmet to dampen the noise.” The medium lasers tore through their protective film and released some coherent light towards the Griffin, right as captain Siroix noticed the “iron-sights” on them. “Took that off the Stinger as well. I know some instructor loves those iron-sights. Doesn’t help much, but I mean, it does allow you to do some funny things.” Rather than relying on the targeting computer, for the next shot, Siroix adjusted his aim down the sight of the right ER Medium Laser, shooting a single shot at the Demolisher. “Haven’t done that since training. No idea if it’s useful, but it sure is fun.”

The training regimen kept going for another 5 minutes, Captain Siroix putting the Swordsman through a variety of challenges. It wasn’t a great machine. It wasn’t even a good machine. It did what it was supposed to do, which was fight at medium ranges and attempt to dodge shots. What the Captain wanted to know now, of course, was the price tag. If whoever was building these things could get them out under three and a half million FoxCredit, this could be a serious competitor to their own BullFighters in the militiamech market. Really, of course, they could also buy the design off them, license it or buy a production run or two. It really depended on WHO was building these damn things.

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