[One hour to Course Correction. Abraham Kepler is now entering the Kepler 111 system.] The robotic voice of the ship’s intercom informs everyone, bringing a crowd of soldiers to every window.
They haven’t seen home in ten long years, and everyone is anxious to commit the visual to memory. After today’s ceremony, they will no longer be soldiers, but returned veterans retired with full honors and benefits. So few of their batch have returned this time though, and the planet only sends soldiers once a decade, so the return is a big thing here, with a week-long celebration among the civilians and a number of formal events for the veterans, but set up more like a dating service than a formal ball.
Of course, none of them have ever seen one before, having been young children when the first one was held, and leaving the planet to take up their duty before the second of their lifetimes.
But the real reason for the celebration isn’t even them, so much as what they represent. Every tenth year, their youth go to fight and die, so that the planet doesn’t have to send a food tithe, filling their storehouses as a buffer against lean years in the future and improving the lives of all on this mostly rural planet.
The two Captain Catans managed to get ahold of each other just this morning, talking about life and family and the Commander that the younger Cousin would be joining tomorrow. He was shocked to find that his older cousin had risen so much, having left straight from the Academy as a fresh-faced Second Lieutenant Cadet. But now they’re of even rank, with the older being a war hero, and the younger a renowned playboy and deadbeat dad, when he’s not the silent bodyguard in the background of local politics..
The entire crew of Bravo Company thinks that the situation is hilarious, especially after seeing the women that the younger cousin had been with. Being only a year apart in the academy, they were all familiar with each other in their childhood, and the two cousins grew up with exactly the same views on what true beauty looks like. There is some hope that the older does have a bit more common sense though.
Only a few minutes after making orbit, the alarms sound again, signaling that the Abraham Kepler is going to make one of its rare planetary landings to pick up the new crew. If the system had a proper star base, they would have picked up the recruits there, but no such thing was deemed necessary by the Central Government for Kepler 111, so loading from land is the only practical way to get so much on board in a reasonable time frame.
The Abraham Kepler is over a Kilometer long, but with the anti-gravity generators, it is fully capable of safely entering orbit, without too much atmospheric damage, and without hitting the ground like a meteor. It is hard on the hull plating though, which is the reason that it is avoided most of the time. Nobody wants to waste military resources repairing a ship that didn’t need to be damaged in the first place.
The shake and shudder of the interstellar fortress as it falls from the sky gives the soldiers a rhythm to dance to, and the warnings to remain securely strapped in and seated for the duration of the entry are entirely ignored. Even Max gets dragged into a dance with the soldiers of Bravo Company, an impromptu mosh pit of joy in the middle of the training grounds.
The ship touches down without incident, and orders start sounding from all over the ship to clear out lockers and report to staging areas for final checks before their personal belongings will be transferred to logistics and the homecoming parade will start.
That ends the dancing, and everyone starts running to grab their gear, knowing that logistics processing is first come first served, and they are all retiring too, so they are in no mood for nonsense or extra work until all the gear is transferred to the local authorities.
[Stalwart Special Tactics Unit, report to Mecha Hanger AE86] is the final announcement in the long line, and the five officers all head for the very last mecha hanger of the Primary Mecha Company on board the Abraham Kepler.
The loading won’t start until tomorrow, once everything is off and moved away, but their two Crusaders are already there when they arrive, repainted in bone and bronze to match their new unit. It is a strange feeling seeing those two mechs in a new color scheme. They went through so much together lately that it almost feels like sacrilege to have changed them. Stalwart has changed a lot though, with the new shoulder pads sporting Plasma Shotguns, an added Ion Type anti-aircraft battery on top of the carapace armor, and the new power plant.
That should make for an interesting contrast. The bright white energy charges of the Ion battery contrasted against the bright blue of the Plasma charges from the shotguns. Nico took the time to tweak and upgrade everything again, bringing it back to what Max is used to, so the only thing he will need to adapt to is the added firepower on top of the Crusader.
Tarith’s Rage doesn’t seem to have changed nearly as much until Max looks closer. It is still the same basic pattern as before, the Ion Destroyer on the right, the gauntlet on the left with the two rail guns mounted on it, but the size of the Rail Guns has been increased. The hull-mounted version beside the cockpit, where Max has a simple laser, is still the same small one it always was though. Finished off with two anti-aircraft batteries, one on each shoulder instead of a single one in the middle, the layout is simple and clean looking, almost minimalist in design.
“Welcome everyone. Stalwart Special Tactics unit will be attached to the Noctem Regiment for the duration of this assignment, so I thought I would come and welcome you.” General Mons, Pilot of the Carpe Noctem and leader of Noctem Armored Regiment greets them, with a silent Colonel standing one step behind and to his right. That should be his copilot, but Max can see that the officer has taken a severe throat wound at some point in the past, and prefers not to wear an augmentic vocal box, so they likely can’t speak.
“We appreciate it General, and we will be in your care,” Nico replies with a polite nod and a salute.
[What am I, chopped liver?] Max hears the Colonel’s thoughts as Nico finishes speaking, making him laugh.
“Yours as well Colonel. Fear not, I didn’t forget about you.” Max replies to the man’s thoughts.
[What the hell? I almost thought he could hear me there for a second. But I’m sure he’s just being a good little boot licker.]
“General Tennant frowns upon licking any part of your uniform Colonel,” Max replies with dignity, and General Mons bursts into laughter.
“Oh yeah, meet my co-pilot, Colonel Car. I may have neglected to notify him that your Innate Talent is related to mind reading.” General Mons cuts into the one-sided conversation and the Colonel gives him a dirty look.
“Oh, don’t give me that. I told you before you made a real ass of yourself.” The General chastises his copilot, who just shakes his head at the childish prank that was played on him.
“This will be your unit’s hanger, so you might as well get acquainted with it. The new staff isn’t here yet obviously, but you can update the system if you don’t like the way the hangers are laid out for the equipment you’ve ordered. You have one hour before you need to report to the parade grounds to send off the old units, and then you need to be back at 0900 tomorrow to greet your new unit and guide them to their quarters. All the data will be sent to your wrist devices and the data tablets in your new quarters.” The General finishes, giving them a curt nod and getting back to his duties.
His unit might only be getting reinforced, but there is still a load of paperwork to do, and since General Tennant is a Genius at dodging responsibility, almost all of the work for the incoming units has fallen in General Mons’ lap.
Max decides to go see Bravo Company before they leave, catching up with Captain Catan, who hands him a sealed envelope to pass to the incoming Captain of the Stalwart Special Tactics unit.
“Since we won’t have much of a chance to catch up, I just wanted to leave him something to remember me by. Just a little bit of a “Good Luck and I hope you left some women for me.” To remind him what he’s fighting for.” The scarred officer laughs, his dark eyes twinkling with mirth under the black spikes of his fresh haircut.