Book 1 - Chapter Six

Chapter 6: We're not looting, we're salvaging...

Okay … so that went well.

I mean Murphy was still absolutely a thing that held 100% true in this universe, no-one taunted murphy. But the whole 'no battle plan survives contact with the enemy' … is predicated on the enemy showing up or having a clue what the hell you were doing. 

I have to say it was in its own way, a heartwarming FUCK YOU to ComStar; given the events of The Price of Glory where 12 million people were casually killed by ROM as part of their plan to deny the cache to mankind. It had actually struck me when I remembered that and that it would surely not happen this time around, that if I was worrying about butterflying events that didn't happen before, meaning deaths that I would be responsible for … well, there was a whole other side to that ledger as well. 

Anyway, so, we jumped in…

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My fears were that we would see a fleet of military Jumpships waiting for us or a ComStar warship or hell, even a civilian with a fully charged core who would run the hell away to sound the alarm in a panic …

But there was nothing. Not even a basic satellite inside the jump zone that was programed to sound the alarm when something dropped in. Helm was that much of a backwater right now - and technology still scarce enough that it wasn't worth wasting it on a place like this.

With the kind of ease that spoke of their elite status, both units dropships detached and started their runs as the jumpships unfurled their jump sails, the Kell Hounds accelerating a tad faster to get ahead of us. A coded transmission to the Rabid Foxes giving them their targets and timeframe raced out, the transmission making it to the planet in minutes as we crawled along the four day trip.

Oh yeah. Sleeping at 1.3Gs? Uch! I was in awe of the ability of the seasoned troops to casually sleep in such conditions - and hell, I had what passed for a stateroom, shared with Ardan while they had tiny racks in their bays. Spaceflight without inertial dampening technology was way overrated. What was worse was the waiting though. My part was done for now and even as all the units and subunits found useful busy work to occupy themselves with as they completed pre-drop checklists and briefed, all I could do was wait and second guess myself.

Not exactly pleasant. I would have killed for my iPad or iPhone but both were probably stuck in some NAIS lab in dozens of pieces. On the plus side, I was enjoying reading McMannons Military Guide 3025 - the 'Janes' of the 31st century in the Federated Suns. It had a lot of information on Mechs and units of all the Successor States - the sad truth was that there was very little 'classified' about the capabilities of the platforms in use by all sides after centuries of war.

Although I swear to God, the 31st centuries idea of an ebook reader...uch!

Anyway. The Hounds dropped on schedule half a day ahead of us. Their relayed transmissions - as well as a more subtle one from the Rabid Foxes on the ground - had confirmed that the 'attack' had been a complete success so far. The sensor network had not even been cut off but hacked to show a sensor loop. It was a very old trick but with the lack of traffic in space around Helm, a perfectly viable one so that the first clue the locals had of what was going on was when a flotilla of Dropships appeared on the short range ATC radars, raining 'Mechs. Then, as morning broke, a lot of people were first terrified … then scared … then uncertain … then really confused.

I mean it's one thing for a Battalion of Battlemechs to show up in the middle of the night. On a raid. This is the 3rd Succession War after all.

It's another thing for them to do little more than just walk around town amusing themselves. Literally, walking down the streets … and obeying the traffic lights and stopping at pedestrian crossings as early morning walkers found other far taller walkers out for a stroll. I mean, the Hounds were broadcasting pictures in the clear that were being re-transmitted by the local media for God's sake! Most hilariously of a Wolverine casually walking up to an utterly clueless Industrial Mech doing early morning work on the city outskirts and clearly completely in the dark about the planetary invasion, to tap it on the shoulder. Causing the other dented and well-used machine to clunk and turn around … and then drop the steel girder it had been holding in pure shock when it saw the lance pointing guns at it, frantically raising its arms straight up in a panic like it was being mugged.

Salome Ward was clearly enjoying herself.

We on the other hand we're having a very different kind of fun.

Our insertion over the sea was timed perfectly, taking place in the brightest part of the local day so our fleets drive flares would hopefully be lost in the glare of sunlight. We crossed the coast at thirty thousand feet over a nuked minor city and slowly descended in tight formation over the clouds, above the mountains. The Kell Hounds Jump Infantry and the command Lance of Patrick Kell departed from their dropship as we passed over the objective (have to admit, it was spectacular seeing the massive war machines on the vid 'step out' above the spectacular cloud covered mountains like giant parachutists) even as the rest of our Dropships brutally converted from supersonic angled flight to vertical flight in a wild series of maneuvers that had us skidding to a halt over the LZ.

At which point we dropped like stones.

I'm pleased to say I did not throw up and congratulated myself on my foresight of eating very lightly at the final meal an hour before we hit the atmosphere. Without a fixed reference point and only the tiny repeater screen on the bulkhead to look at while strapped into my acceleration couch, it wasn't pleasant.

All the more because of the wild cheering and whistling from the Guardsmen around me who clearly thought this was awesome.

Even as we dropped the last thousand feet Battlemechs started departing the fleets' ships on jump jets or jump packs; a full Battalions worth was on the ground and fanning out to secure the LZ before we were, with the rest disembarking within ten minutes of grounding. Swarms of armour followed and in less than an hour three mixed regiments of armor, Battlemechs and some supporting units (almost 3070s LCTs I had thought idly) were moving off to their chosen defensive choke points around the cache region; each with enough firepower to stop a hostile Mech Regiment dead in its tracks.

It was all in all a pretty remarkable feat of organization. Granted none of this was under fire, but even so you got the feeling that this was the kind of evolution the Guards practiced for constantly in Garrison and it showed.

So. With the main defensive force deployed and the camp guards standing first watch, it was time for for the RCT Command Company to push to the cache itself. The three regiments of infantry going with us loaded into their APCs with only minor grumbling; clearly wanting to enjoy the fresh air and open spaces for a while longer before getting back into enclosed spaces.

I however would not be riding with them as I expected.

No; I would be riding in Ardan Sorteks Victor to get there. 

Which was fucking awesome!

I mean the jump seat was rather cramped as I was decently tall, but not more than an economy airline seat - and we weren't walking far.

The first few minutes were a little hair raising I'll admit. A Battlemech was unlike any other underway vehicle I had ever sat in and the feel of it walking rather than driving …

Best analogy I could think of was those two or three seconds when a landing aircraft had its rear wheels hit the ground and it felt like the pilot was really fighting to keep it on the runway as he dropped the nose? The Mech seriously felt like it was on the verge of falling over with every step!

I slowly got used to it as we moved onwards - or at least learned to ignore it and just geeked out over the war machine. My jump seat was actually offset from the command couch so I could look past Colonel Sorteks chair and out the tiny window - or more usefully at the compressed holographic display. We were moving as part of the RCT command company, with Felsner beside us in his Cyclops with a pair of Jaggermechs on point. A flight of Ferret class scout VTOLs were doing the main scouting, zigging and zagging above us on overwatch supplemented by a lance of jumping mediums (yes the Heavy Guards did have limited numbers of Mechs in other weight classes for tactical flexibility) pacing us up on the ridge line.

I sat back and tried to enjoy the ride as Ardan stomped his way down the river, half listening to the radio chatter on the command net, which was actually pretty minimal and limited to line of sight laser coms so as to not alert any FWLM listening posts that might be somewhere in the region. Unlikely, but clearly Felsner was neither a risk taker nor a micro-manager.

Which was a good sign and fine by me. And soon enough, we arrived.

"Okay, we're here" Ardan called back and I looked up as we stepped around a curve in the Canyon and dry riverbed winding its way into the mountains. Ardan was being cautious I noticed, gripping the controls, ready to unleash the gigantic autocannon in the Victor's arm as needed as he moved up to flank the Marshal, before he relaxed at what he saw.

It was a pretty typical box canyon, I suppose. The dry riverbed was perhaps ten meters wide at this point, rising to a bank on each side a few hundred meters across of mostly gravel with a few bits of tough shrubs stubbornly holding position through it. Directly ahead, the river had seemingly run into a mountain in the same way a sentence runs into a full stop, a sheer brown/grey rock face rising hundreds of meters into the air before sloping back out of sight, the 'wall' wrapping around to form the canyon itself. The riverbed terminated in the 'boulder' although the outline where the cave used to be seemed pretty clear to me. Even so, the 'boulder' had been positioned exquisitely; looking for all the world like a lump of sheer cliff that had snapped off and slid down to embed itself in some avalanche, sealing off the cave.

The work was so damn good that despite everything I knew I still had slight doubts. For all the complaints I used to (and still occasionally did) make about the future of the 1980s in terms of the technology around me, the Star Leagues mega-engineering skills could have had the discovery channel doing Megastructure specials for a century back home.

"Welcome all" Patrick Kells voice came over the command net. "We've scouted the entire area and we're clear of any indigenous presence" the other said. Squinting past Ardan I finally picked out the Kell Hound lance loosely strung across the left hand side of the valley near the gatehouse, with what looked like Infantry dotting the grounds in rather good cover to screen them. From there the Hounds would have been able to catch any hostiles in a pretty damn withering firepower concentration, even as the bend would have blocked any easy attempt to return the favor. "Situation is secure here and we're ready to move in".

Felsner replied cordially to him and things moved quickly from there. More and more people arrived until the area looked more like a parking lot than anything, with the Mechs stacked up like some SWAT team outside a door near the head of the valley and the infantry grouped up too, but everyone on my advice was far enough back just in case the opening dislodged any debris or anything from the cliff above. I didn't pay that much attention until suddenly Ardan called my name probably a good half an hour later.

"John? We're ready. No change in your instructions?"

"Nope" I replied with a shrug I knew he couldn't see, feeling a little stiff in the seat I was strapped tightly into. It hadn't really been designed for long term occupancy, but it beat walking from the dropships and I tried to focus. "Power up the terminal in the gatehouse, patch in the chip … and let's see what happens.

"Alright. And … here we go" he said (I winced, recalling Heath Ledger as 'The Joker' saying that) and I held my tongue as the techs in the gatehouse carefully powered up the computer - and resisted the urge not quite at gunpoint to start poking at it and its software; instead just slipping the memory chip into the slot.

For a heart stopping five seconds, nothing happened.

And then something did.

The first thing was the sudden launching into the air of a flock of birds, squawking and fleeing from a tiny perch in the cliff face above the boulder. Moments later, a light rain of debris showered down the cliff as everyone staring at it held their breath … then there was a jolt.

One that I felt even though the 'Mechs shock absorbing feet and knee joints.

A rectangular door was now visible inside the 'boulder', appearing as if by magic out of the solid stone as it slowly retracted into the mountainside. A wave of dust billowed from the area around it as it eased backwards, the Mech's external audio pickups relaying a stone-on-stone grinding noise. I could see the Infantry much closer seemed to be having slight difficulties staying on their feet until finally the stone with another jolt stopped moving back. And then it started to slide off to the side, revealing the dark cave behind.

"Keith you magnificent bastard" I snarked, "I read your book!"

"Patton, 1970" Ardan laughed from in front of me and I blinked at the back of his neurohelmet.

"You still watch those movies?" I asked, slightly amused.

"As it so happens, 20th and 21st century cinema is still incredibly popular, to this day over most other years, for various reasons. But the Davion Guards as a whole do have a bit of a soft spot for Second World War movies, I'll admit".

Moments later, the door seemed to have completed opening. With a simple hand gesture from Kells Thunderbolt, the 'Hounds infantry swarmed, leaping forward in a blur and hiss of jump packs, vanishing in pairs into the darkness. There was an agonizing wait of ten minutes or so with only brief code words coming back before the all-clear came back and the Mechs could move, easing up into the cache one at a time.

I felt myself wincing slightly as Ardan had to sort of duck into the doorway for the rather tall Mech to fit in, but soon enough we entered the darkness - and Ardan flicked on his Victors 'headlights'.

The cavern inside wasn't very big (well, from a Battlemechs perspective) and was featureless except for two things. Firstly, a tunnel ahead that descended off further into the darkness. Secondly, what amounted to a small building extending out from the cave wall. With a tap on Ardans shoulder, I directed him there. A quick radio transmission later and our Mech was carefully backed up against the wall just outside the 'building', slumping as it powered down to a standby status. We were joined by the Mechs of the Marshal (who left a ComTech working his Mechs Command Console to keep him linked to the RCT) as well as Patrick Kell himself, who clearly did not want to miss this, with the remaining Mechs standing guard at the only two other access points into or out of this initial area.

Of course, this position meant I had to descend a chain ladder from the Victorscockpit. Downside of an Assault Mech; It was a long way to the ground -a very solid ground- no matter how Godlike it made you feel. And even with a couple of Kell Hounds infantry holding the bottom of the ladder (and no doubt thinking snarky thoughts about how awkward I was on it for a vaunted Mechwarrior) it wasn't exactly pleasant to descend.

Still, I made it with my body if not dignity intact and we met up with the other Mechwarriors at the door, as well as a squad of troops - who were holding back the dozen computer experts from NAIS. They had followed us in and were impatiently shuffling from one foot to the other like kids on Christmas morning, waiting to see what Santa had put under the tree.

I could understand that, based on the literal writing on the wall I could see in the glare of Mech mounted floodlights.

Star League Field Library Facility, Helm. DE890-2699.

Well, this was it.

Felsner thus flatly refused to let anyone in until it was swept no matter how much the techs were threatening to start hyperventilating and so we all waited (some with more grace than others) as the Hounds carefully checked it out. The three Mechwarriors took the time to pull on jumpsuits over their cooling vests and shorts - while I tried not to fiddle with my AFFS field BDUs and combat webbing. I still wasn't really comfortable wearing the uniform but Ardan assured me MIIO personnel in the field in my situation would also have to wear the uniform without rank - and if anything, he actually seemed pleased that I expressed how uncomfortable I was wearing a uniform I hadn't earned in an army I wasn't actually part of.

Hadn't stopped him from telling me to shut up and wear it though.

With that said, the laser pistol on my hip I had been issued at Ardans instance was absolutely real and I had three weeks training with it to know that. Although I had to keep fighting the urge to pull it and make blaster noises by reminding myself that the ray gun wasn't a toy...

Anyway. Lights had come on inside the building as soon as the Kell Hounds troops had stepped inside and when the First Lieutenant in charge (whose team were one of the few briefed on what was in here and so took things very carefully) finally green lit the room as secure, Ardan insisted I take point. Probably to stop the Techs from charging in first and starting to press buttons. Inside and appreciating the warm light compared to the harsh spotlights of the cavern, I found myself in a small hallway with a very large workstation facing an entire wall sized screen at the far end.

"And it probably still can't play Crysis" I muttered as I started down the hall towards it.

"What was that?" Ardan asked as he moved up behind me and I shook my head with a distant smile as I again felt that odd disconnection from my old life.

"Nothing" I said, moving in and looking over the console. It was a relatively simple affair; a keyboard, trackball and a number of auxiliary control panels, a few monitors and I/O slots that were this centuries (or the 28ths) equivalent of USB ports. It wasn't really any more impressive than the computers back on New Avalon at NAIS … but it wasn't the hardware that made this place a secret House Lords would depopulate entire worlds to get their hands on.

Turning back I looked at the crowd of people in the hallway. "Who has the chip?"

"I do" Specialist Rastcor spoke up in an awed, hushed voice like he had just entered a temple as he edged in.

"Here" I gestured him to the console and the external chip input slot. With incredible care (again, probably unnecessary because by God the SLDF had built things to last!) he took the chip back out of its tough case and slotted it into the data port prominent above the keyboard as he sat down. I stood behind him, crossing my arms and trying to look that confident that I knew what the hell I was doing.

Then the screen (really it was a wall sized projection) came on and white text flashed up.

'The advancement and diffusion of knowledge is the only guardian of true liberty'. James Madison.

"Well, he's not wrong" I shrugged as the interface bloomed to life on the screen followed by what seemed to be a massive table of contents that started to scroll. Then I paused as I heard no response, turning back to see that everyone, even Ardan, had their faces locked into expressions of stunned awe and it was only then that it really hit me what this wasto them. Compared to me; a child of the Google Generation.

Knowledge.

The lost knowledge of the Star League; the 'golden age' of mankind whose heights humanity had fallen from and desperately wanted to returned to was now digitally displaying itself calmly for all their eyes. Freely available for the taking.

Merry fucking Christmas indeed.

"My God. It's real. It's really real" Fensler muttered in clear shock, the first time I had seen him lose his composure. He shivered in a way that I was sure had nothing to do with the residual temperature of the coolant vest he was wearing before he gathered himself with almost physical effort to face me and give a nod of genuine respect I doubted he gave very often to people he presumed were REMF spooks … and I felt distinctly uncomfortable all of the sudden.

Like a fraud.

Someone who had taken the works, risks and sacrifices of others and taken credit for them. I recalled from 'The Price of Glory' that the Grey Death Legion had fought a near constant stream of running battles for days to protect this find. Battles that had very nearly broken them and WOULD have broken a lesser unit. For all their later glory, Helm was pretty much considered their finest hour by the Inner Sphere well into the 3050s. The risks taken and sacrifices made to keep the knowledge safe and get it away from ComStars attempts to destroy it...

Granted that sacrifice would never happen now, meaning it was really only a Battletech novel and nothing more … and yet...

The younger Kell Brother broke me out of my musing (or perhaps brooding) as he just barked in triumph, startling me for a moment as he slapped me on the back - with I felt enough force to send me into low orbit - causing me to stagger forward a half step.

"Well then. It would appear congratulations are in order Agent Smith" Patrick said, offering me an almost boyish grin that I couldn't help but sort of shyly return as he held out his hand for me to shake. Dammit he was just so … charismatic – ouch!

Also turns out he has quite a grip.

"I'll accept congratulations when we have copies of the core" - with secondary and tertiary backups - "safely on Tharkad and New Avalon" I cautioned him as I released his hand and tried not to visibly work the feeling back into mine. "But I rather think with a little luck, we might just be able to make this year's Christmas celebrations at The Triad. Be a rather nice present for the Archon and First Prince".

"Now that would just cap this off, wouldn't it?" the Mercenary chuckled. Behind him, I could hear Fensler quietly taking on his headset radio via his Battlemech outside; alerting the most senior officers that the Primary Objective had been located and to standby for deployment orders. Turning back to the massive screen still cheerfully scrolling through its table of contents, I regarded Rastcor and stepped up to him carefully.

"Rastcor, you still with me?" I asked him quietly. I don't think he had even blinked since we turned the thing on.

"Of course" he said after snapping out of it with a glance around, swallowing slightly as he looked back up at the screen and it seemingly hit him that this was as real as it gets and not just a theoretical exercise back at NAIS. This was something that made the legendary find at Halstead station look like nothing; the figurative Holy Grail that NAIS had been searching for since its founding … and he was the man on the spot.

Meaning he was also the man every one of his peers across history would look at as 'that guy' for the rest of his life if he managed to fuck this up.

"Ignore the databases for now" I instructed him gently but firmly. "This system should have both a map of this facility and an inventory. I'm not sure if you're going to be able to bring them up without a lot more time learning this system, but..."

The implied challenge that he wouldn't be able to do so brought him out of his slightly stunned state as I hoped it would.

"Hmm. Let's see" he said, reasserting himself and tapping some commands. "Standard later Hegemony SLDF interface. I should be able to just bring up a terminal window if I … ah!" There were a trio of smaller screens on top of the command console, looking much like widescreen computer monitors back on Earth in my time. All of them now activated as secondary displays, including what looked like a pretty classic command line interface popping onto them which he started working. Thirty seconds later the scrolling index on the big screen vanished, replaced with a massive topographical map of the entire region instantly familiar as identical to that in the memory chip. However this one also had in bright red, the outline of the entire complex.

I couldn't help but whistle at it as Rastcor zoomed in slightly. The complex straddled the Mountains, reaching far to the South East where the Vermillion plains started to edge between the equatorial sea and mountains. A dozen green dots marked the edges of the red shadow which I presumed were access doors given that one was exactly on our position, with more detail filling in with distinct levels, chambers and passages connecting them as the image slowly tilted and panned.

It had taken Grayson hours as I recalled to bring up the map using the pretty 'idiot proof' user interface. This man had done it in two minutes flat, with a command line.

Okay, perhaps he did know his stuff regarding Star League computers. So much the better.

"Okay then. Now, is there any way that you can export this for upload into the navigation computers of our units? So they can make their way around this place?" I asked with a considering tilt of my head.

The other considered the question, before rapid typing a series of commands, getting screens of text back and then switching to the GUI screen to open something that looked like a file tree which he scrolled through quickly, blinking as he found something. "Actually Agent Smith, it looks like whoever was here anticipated that request. The facility map has already been exported to a standard SLDF tactical map format" and with a quick flick of a trackball, the map was translated to the screen.

Now this looked exactly like the kind of maps I had seen running on Ardans computer screens in his Mech. Very cool. Tags and data flowed over the map in great detail seemingly showing preset navigation points and the like. Without looking away, the technician put a hand back over his shoulder and one of his subordinates without asking slapped a similar looking memory chip to the security one we were using. He pushed it into a free slot and with a blurred series of keystrokes and a brief 'file transfer' window that popped up on the big screen and then vanished before I could even really read it, he then pulled it back out.

"Done" he confirmed, turning and passing it to the waiting Marshal. "Inventory file is embedded into it as well".

Fensler looked at the chip in his hands and took a deep breath to settle himself before his years of military discipline kicked back in as he turned to face Colonel Sortek.

"Right. Ardan, I need to get teams to start scouting and securing the facility. I'll be on Tac-6 if you need me".

"Copy that Sir" Ardan saluted him and had one returned quickly enough. The Marshal then offered me a military nod and left, leaving Ardan turning back to me with a sudden grin on his face. "You have things under control here John, so you're in charge. I'm going to explore the immediate area a little more" Sortek decided without even bothering to ask me.

Wait. He expects me to run point on the most critical part of this entire fucking operation? 

Oh hell no-

"I'll come with if you don't mind - I'm rather eager to explore this place" Patrick said, his gaze going somewhat distant and forlorn for a moment as he traced his eyes across the trove of Lostech. "Morgan would have loved to be here" he added wistfully. "When we were kids we were always talking about building a Merc unit to go and sail the stars, fighting bad guys and coming home with all the lost Star League treasure…" Shaking himself out of it almost at once, the younger Kell brother offered me a nod and headed out after Ardan.

Well perhaps if your brother wasn't busysulking and crying himself to sleep - I shook off that instinctive thought to have some pity and empathy for Patrick.

In his own way, he had lost his family when Morgan had run off, and I could relate to that.

Besides, there was some evidence that the whole Phantom Mech process caused major mental health issues to those who 'broke into' it … so I didn't need to be a dick to the guy.

Anyway. It seemed I had a whole gaggle of over-excited techs to ride herd on. Better make sure they get on task before they do something stupid.

"Alright, let's get down to it" I tried to say in something like a commanding tone. "If the Major had any sense, given the purpose of this place, he should have set up a copy program to duplicate the core contents onto external media" I stated, knowing he had done exactly that.

"Already found it" one of the other techs working the secondary monitor chipped in, their confidence seeming to slowly return as the shock wore off and they started to focus on the smaller issues rather than the minor fact that this thing was going to at a stroke change the course of human history. "Just … hmmm".

"Define 'hmm'?" I asked.

"Well the copy program seems to build an index of the core, then dump it into a compressed archive which it then throws onto the external media. In fact it's already built the archive file and is ready to copy it across. The problem however-"

"It's in a format that is no longer in use, or, was proprietary to this site and we would have no way of extracting the data again afterwards" I guessed as something clicked for me. "Not without building software from the ground up to data mine and index it manually which, given the scope of this, would be like giving a person a million piece jigsaw puzzle and no final picture" I added as my brow creased in thought.

Suddenly things made sense. The data here, inside the cache, was clearly accessible and fully indexed and linked. At a keystroke, you could bring up anything using an interface that looked roughly analogous to hyperlink markups and web pages. And yet I knew in the original timeline it had taken considerable effort to get at the data from the copies, with different states pulling different things out in different order bit by bit and byte by byte.

Although to be perfectly fair, the poor Grey Death Legion tech who had made the copy of the core wasn't a handpicked NAIS computer expert with an RCT to hide behind, but a Mech Tech trying very hard to copy the core while House Marik Battlemechs were knocking on the front door …

"Well … yes actually" the tech said, all of them exchanging surprises glances, seemingly nonplussed at my casual commentary on computer matters I guess not that many 'lay' people were trained in.

Which said a lot of sad things about education in the Inner Sphere.

Fuck you Comstar. 

"However the command program actually has a number of extended options" he said, gesturing back to the screen and a text file of some kind showing what looked like a manual page for the software. "One of them is to build the archive export using any number of different formats, including a standard Star League format that is still in use today. But the program will have to re-index and create the archive file from scratch".

"Any idea what kind of timeframe we're looking at for that?" I asked. "I just need a rough guesstimate…"

The tech and Rastcor exchanged a glance, seemingly communicating telepathically before the later spoke up.

"Based on the amount of data here … six hours? Although after the archive is built, copying onto external media should only take half an hour or so per copy. The data transfer system built into this workstation is top notch" he finished on an upbeat note and I nodded at that. Alright if Ardan wanted me in charge, then fine I'd be in charge.

We were bloody going to do this the safeway.

"Okay, here's the plan" I spoke up, looking around to make sure I had everyone's attention before continuing. "Before you do anything else, copy the existing archive file onto two separate memory cores - and run concurrency checks to make sure their data is identical. I'll organize to have one loaded onto our ship, one onto the Kell Hounds command ship. They're our failsafe so even if it will be a pain in the ass to extract it, the raw data is secure in case anything goes wrong or we have to evacuate in a hurry for some reason. Then you can run the commands to build a new archive in a format our systems can work with and copy that onto the remaining spare cores … which will be how many?"

"Of the size needed?" Rastcor considered the question, conferring quickly with his people before turning back. "Probably four. The existing archive file is over two fifty exabytes and we have six three-hundred exabyte cores. And frankly, I doubt the size is going to be very different using the more mainstream algorithms - if anything it might be smaller".

"There may also be spare cores locally in storage around here somewhere" I added "but let's not count on that. Only make the copies from the original source and be sure to test these copies against each other. Let me know immediately when you're done - or if you run into any problems. I'll have instructions where to store these cores for you later once I've conferred with Colonel Sortek. Then, our final goal is to pull the original core out of here without damaging it or setting off any security systems - which might include a self destruct sequence for the entire complex if the core is interfered with, so don't even think about doing anything outside what we've discussed without the green light from myself or Colonel Sortek".

Happily the techs all seemed to be nodding firmly at that, not eager to risk blowing themselves up. I paused to reflect for a moment, but decided that about covered it. And that I didn't need to issue any threats about screwing around - I think they had focused in well now on the importance of the task in front of them - and dangers they were playing with.

"One last thing; remember if you need anything, you have first and absolute priority on personnel, supplies, equipment, whatever you need to get this done. In in doubt, call me. Anytime. Or if you can't reach me, either Colonel Sortek or Marshal Felnser are ready to take your calls. Clear?"

"Very clear Agent Smith. We won't let you down" Rastcor nodded to me, with a pleasingly determined yet serious expression on his face. Just about the right ratio of caution to determination I think.

"I know you won't" I assured them with a tight smile. "Prince Davion handpicked each of you for a reason" I added to their clear shock and surprise. "So I have complete confidence in both your abilities and that you appreciate what this" I pointed at the screen "means. Good luck".

Outside, I found the cave a bustle of activity. A constant line of APCs were driving through the door and vanishing down into caverns. Two Goblins wearing Kell Hound colors had been parked in the cave with two Mechs from Patrick Kells command lance standing nearby and a platoon of infantry busy around the cave fortifying both entrance and exit - with a couple of burly looking chaps standing guard outside the door to the library itself. I guessed they had orders that no-one not on 'the list' got inside … and I also guessed that they were far from happy with standing around the building while everyone else (including their CO) was playing Tomb Raider in a Star League cache. But they were clearly far too professional to complain as I walked past them and made my way outside the great doors (which on foot, I had to admit, were far more impressive).

The Mobile HQ vehicle of the Guards had arrived and set up while I was busy inside, parked up on the bank just outside the 'gatehouse'. Two flagpoles with the standards of both the Kell Hounds and Davion Heavy Guards had been raised and the HQ itself had been 'unfolded'. Now the vehicle formed one wall of a large semi-rigid field tent, with the stationary titan of the Marshals Cyclops standing silently next to it along with the paired Jaggermechs. Inside the tent was a pretty cramped command centre, with two dozen communications techs busy on tiny desks coordinating the Regimental Combat Teams operations across the battlespace. The Mobile HQ design was quite clever really. Lacking the kind of lightweight and compact C4i technology of the Star League era, it had been designed to provide a basic 'on the move' capability but otherwise was designed to rapidly unfold into a far less cramped portable command centre. A gaggle of senior officers at a slightly raised section were busy around Marshal Flenser, so I started to walk over that way.

"...some time tomorrow" one of his officers was saying, a small group of them standing over a map table showing the contemporary satellite image overlaid with a wireframe of the cache and hoards of unit markers. Dan Allard was there as well - in what I presumed was the Hounds field BDUs rather than a Mechwarriors combat gear, so I guess he was here to play liaison while Patrick and Ardan played Lara Croft. And he looked about as happy as his comrades in the Cache had been about that fact.

"Fine. We'll need to confirm that with Major Ward as soon as the SatCom uplink is active…" and with that Flenser noticed me standing off to the side and gestured me in. "Ah Agent Smith, good, I was just about to call you for a status report. What's the situation at the library?"

"Optimistic Marshal" I answered him, coming to something like parade rest. It surely couldn't hurt to be as professional as possible after all. "Phase one is underway; we're pulling a direct copy of the existing archive file and should have full copies of the core onto our dropships inside an hour or two. This data format is far from ideal to work with mind you; it would take years to decrypt it, if not a decade or more. But that's our safety net to ensure that even in the worst case scenario before we start fiddling, we'd still have the entire database even if it took some time to make use of it".

"Sound thinking" the other agreed and a flurry of nods agreed from around the table - clearly no-one wanted to even chance the loss of this priceless treasure. "What happens after that?"

"Luckily for us, it seems the library systems can export the database into more standard Star League formats that are still in use today. It'll take something on the order of six hours or more to build this export file but once that is done, making new copies should only take half an hour. And the data on these cores would be fully accessible from the outset. We have sufficient cores to make four copies of this format and I'd like your permission to split these copies - and the first two backups for that matter - onto different dropships assigned to different jumpships under lock and key. To eliminate any single point of failure risk if we lose a dropship or jumpship".

The Marshal turned to a Major waiting off to the side and made a 'get on with it' gesture, causing the other to salute and then hurry off to get things organized.

"Finally" I continued as he left, "after we've confirmed the data has been completely secured and duplicated to a sufficient level of redundancy" - although I found it hard to credit there was such a thing- "my instructions are to inspect the computer core and see about the possibility of removing it to take it with us. Failing that, if it cannot be removed, once we're certain we've got all the data precisely duplicated and have finished all salvage activity; on the authority of Prince Davion, Colonel Sortek will give the order to destroy it".

There was something of a shocked intake of breath around the table at that bombshell, as I had more or less expected. In this time period of Battletech, destroying Lostech items such as factories, jumpships and terraforming equipment was considered pretty much a flat out war crime.

Destroying the ultimate anti-Lostech device probably reached the level of 'crime against humanity' in their eyes - even if nothing would be lost given the backups. Indeed it was probably only that fact combined with me noting it was an order from Hanse Davion himself that their knee jerk outrage had been controlled.

"That is of course, the worst case scenario" I added, which seemed to ease up the tension a tad. "But we cannot leave this data intact for Marik - and more pertinently Liao and Kurita who will no doubt insist they share".

"Thank you Agent Smith - I think we've all realized the strategic ramifications of leaving it intact" the Marshal pointed out - but he did so at least with a smile and nod that suggested he wasn't trying to rebuke or dismiss me - and his words subtly reinforced my position with his authority. "Alright, can I call it twenty four hours to be able to completely download and secure the data for planning purposes?"

"Conservatively, yes sir" I nodded. "In all honestly, probably less than that".

"Outstanding" he nodded before considering me and gesturing me to join them - slightly surprising me. "You might as well stay for the rest of the briefing then" he added before he turned to a man in a field uniform whose brown rank insignia I recall meant he was from the logistics branch. "General Flanders, you have a report?"

I admit to disappointment that he didn't declare 'Hokaly-Dokaly MarshelReno!'

"Yes Sir" the officer said in deep rumble of a voice that was about as far from Ned Flanders as it was possible to get. "Preliminary analysis of the manifest file is completed, we have a listing of what's in the cache - at least as of the last inventory. We don't have eyeballs on it all yet, but the reports we're getting from the scouting teams seem to match up so far".

There was a sudden air of eager anticipation around the table at that as everyone leaned forward. The core was worth vastly more than the entirety of the equipment stored here, everyone knew that of course.

But the shinies!

Oh God, the shinies!!!

"The short version; on paper we have over five hundred Battlemechs, two thousand combat vehicles, another thousand various utility and support vehicles, twenty thousand SLDF field infantry kits and close to fifty thousand tons of various spare parts, supplies and equipment. The Mechs…" the man hesitated for a second, seemingly steadying himself. "Eighty percent of the Mechs are Assaults".

The entire command tent -who were clearly not supposed to be listening in but everyone knew were listening in anyway - went almost silent. Felsner turned to glare at them and as if a switch had been thrown, they hurriedly went back to work with barks of orders from the junior officers overseeing them as the legendary professionalism of the AFFS reasserted itself.

"Eighty percent" the Marshal stated quietly - not even he able to keep the shock out of his eyes.

General Flanders simply nodded - clearly having had more time to digest this bombshell.

"It's beginning to look a lot like Christmas…" I muttered in a sing-song voice under my breath as I wracked my brain. I didn't remember anything like that being noted from The Price of Glory. Then again, the descriptions of the Mechs had been pretty much limited to Carlyle being understandably frustrated that even as his units machines were getting blasted to pieces in fight after fight and being glued back together for the next, he had hundreds of gleaming SLDF machines sitting there he couldn't use as it would take far too long to get them combat ready. Like a man dying of thirst being given a bottle of water impossible to open.

Assault Mechs were indeed the rarest of beasts in the Inner Sphere these days according to what I had read in McMannons Military Guide. The LCAF deployed the most - memes about them were exaggerated, but they still boasted almost a fifth of their Mech fleet in that class - with Heavies around a quarter more making them pretty top heavy. House Davion conversely could barely scrape up ten percent in Assaults, with seventy percent of their Mech Regiments TO&E made up of Lights and Mediums and the rest Heavies. House Kurita sat between the two - but with fewer regiments than the AFFS in total - almost like someone had been world building everything into a nice balance…

This many Assault Mechs could actually change the balance of power for House Davion in a small but real way. Only question being if you gave the Crushers a sibling or two … or attached a company each of the machines to sixteen or so RCTs for a breakthrough firepower boost in key units...

"Right then" the Marshal drew my attention back to the here and now. "What kind of tech are we looking at?"

"Agent Smith's information seems, as always, right on the money" the officer noted with a nod at me that made me fight off the urge to blush at the unabashed complement, probably very rarely given from line officers in whose minds 'intelligence agent' was an oxymoron. "We're looking at late era SLDF regulars. Most of the mechs have one system or weapon that's Lostech balanced out with standard current issue weapons, which should make maintaining them easier logistically speaking but a few according to the specs are high-end Royal builds. There are a lot of spare parts as well. And I mean a lot. For example according to this, there are at least a thousand Freezers sitting in one of the warehouses - still in their original packaging".

"And before anyone asks" the Marshal added, "dibs rules are not, I say again not, in effect".

There was a good humored chuckle at that that seemed to put the meeting back on an even keel, getting everyone to knuckle down and focus.

"So. Question number two; assuming the inventory is accurate, how long will take to load up this stuff and can we carry it all? Even with the Mammoths, that is a lot of gross tonnage…"

"The Mules are each carrying a full recovery crew with a platoon of prime movers, a couple of dozen industrial exoskeletons and some mobile lift hoists. Throw in my boys to help and we should be able to load up Battalion or so worth of platforms with each round trip. This is going to be a multi-day affair in all honesty" the officer shrugged helplessly - at which point I stepped in, recalling some information from the book.

"I might have some good news there" I spoke up, getting everyone's immediate attention. Possibly because so far I only seemed to bring good news. "We'll probably have to get the infantry to do a full sweep to make sure, but according to our intelligence about this place, there should be fusion powered flatbed haulers in the cache. If we can get them working, we should be able to increase our movements of salvage quite a bit - if we can find people to drive them".

"Make that a priority for your people to confirm Colin" Flenser ordered swiftly with a look at the commander of the infantry. "I want to hit the ground running on this one".

"Understood sir" the other nodded, making a notation in a small noteputer.

"If need be, we can stand down the 14th Lexington from their reserve position and put their crews to work running them" the Marshal continued in consideration, lightly drumming his fingers on the holotable before nodding sharply. "In fact, on that note Felger I want you to pull two companies worth of Mechs with hands off the line to assist with the loading and unloading operations. Karen, as soon as we're in position to start the recovery, round up all the loadmasters from our dropships and send them over to help. Once we start, we run non stop, which means rotations. I do not want to lose a grounded Mammoth filled with Lostech because some idiot decided crew rest was for losers, pushed it too far and caused a catastrophe. Everyone clear on that?"

"Yes Sir!" came back immediately and my respect for the man went up another notch. He was perfectly willing to use his Mechwarriors as glorified industrial mech drivers where I strongly suspected other unit commanders fully into the Cult of the Mechwarrior would reject the idea out of hand. He was also clearly seeing the timeframe for getting this done wasn't going to be a few hours of smash and grab like Halstead Station had been, but that a sustained effort would be needed. And was smart enough to use his people accordingly and ensure they didn't burn out.

Well I suppose you didn't get to be put in charge of Hanse Davion's favorite RCT without proving yourself significantly beyond merely 'competent'.

"Now, the second question" he moved on. "How much of it can we take? I'm loathe to either leave things behind for the leaguers or have to destroy them. But I'd like it even less to find stuff we left behind pointed back at us a few years down the line".

"We're crunching the numbers" the logistics man stated, glancing at his own noteputer. "Best estimate for now is that we can load up all the Mechs, Vehicles and just about all the lostech gear if we use our own dropships to take the excess and if we triage for things we can leave behind like standard ammo, gauss rifle slugs and the like. But no question that we're going to have to dump some stuff to make room on our ships".

"Right. Start with our ammo stores - I don't think House Davion is going to run out of autocannon shells anytime soon" he noted to a brief chuckle around the table. "Then if we still need room, the APCs can be tossed and we can store lighter vehicles from the cache in their place to free up more cargo space".

The logistics officer nodded at that and make a notation - although the other General who I recalled was in charge of the Mechanized Infantry brigade didn't look terribly happy at the idea. And understandably too. But then, his APCs were one of the cheapest and easiest military vehicles to make. One that could be replenished in bulk, even in 3025.

"Next question. LZs. Where do we load up from?"

"I think we've found an LZ for the Mammoths and Mules Sir" another officer, Karen I recalled, said, wearing the uniform of someone in the Naval arm of the AFFS. Clearly she led the RCTs aerospace elements, with a few keystrokes switching the holotables map around to focus on the western side of the range. "Based on the map, there is another access door here" and a green dot flashed on the southern edge of the mountains, where they edged away from the coast, creating a narrow spar of the Vermillion Planes right where the Vermillion river emerged on the other side of the range. It looked small on the orbital scan, but seemed more than large, wide and flat enough to bring the heavy ships in. "It's defendable, but open enough for the loading and the ground looks ideal for the cargo ships".

"Good work" Felnser said as he studied the map grid indicated. "We'll have the infantry spend the evening finishing the sweep of the inside of the cache, then they can bunk down for the night. We'll move the fleet across the mountains at first light - except McCloud's company. They stay here, with Wolli Pride, just in case someone comes looking for what all the noise is about and to defend the computer team" and with that he straightened and looked around his officers. "Any concerns or questions?" he asked and got a negative shake of heads. "Good. Now, Lieutenant, you have an update from Major Ward?"

Daniel Allard now stepped forward.

"Yes Sir" the younger Allard brother replied and he gave a straight forward yet amusing report of all the ways the Kell Hounds some distance away were amusing themselves, leaving the locals bewildered and trying to determine if this was a raid, occupation or some giant practical joke on behalf of the Lyran Commonwealth. The really good news was that the ComStar HPG hadn't broken its transmission schedule - it was due to send out the first batch of messages since we landed in just under 90 minutes. It suggested the locals were so damn confused about the situation that they hadn't seen a need to pay Comstars exorbitant fees for a priority message to Stewart. Which was excellent news indeed - for once ComStars greed was working against them. After all if a Class-B station could casually send an emergency transmission simply because the local Precentor wanted to, questions might get asked about why then they charged such a silly amount of money when others asked.

That decision might well cost the local Precentor his life. I did feel slightly bad for the local stations personnel though who would no doubt be caught up in the aftermath. I recalled that some idealistic ComStar adept had been critical to getting the Grey Death Legion out of their desperate situation and spreading the news about ComStars involvement in the war crimes on Sirius. A poor fool of an Adept who honestly believed the Precentor in question was an aberration and that ComStars inner circle were noble people with a noble mission. He had, at great risk, defied said Precentor and exposed his heinous actions (promptlydisavowed as the actions of a rogue man by the 'horrified' First Circuit of course) and allowed the Grey Death Legion to get out with their precious cargo.

I doubted fate would be kind to him this time.

I suppose it was a good sign I could still feel guilty about such things … but I pushed it out of the way. After all, if I was going to stay my hand against ComStar because some of their ignorant low level personnel could get caught up in events, I might as well have stayed at home and started praying to my toaster.

Brooding as the briefing broke up, I made my way outside and found a nice rock to sit on across from the Cyclops, watching as dusk slowly gave way to evening as the sun set behind the canyon wall as I fished out a ration bar and tried not to wince at the taste