002. Establishing the groundwork bc

Huu looked at the gun system blueprints in front of him. The smallest possible gun system that he could find in common service in the Commonwealth's military. The venerable Two Pounder. Or rather, in official parlance, the Ordnance QF 2 PDR Mk. IXA. Developed as an anti-tank gun by Vickers-Armstrongs, it was employed on Crusader, Valentine, Matilda, Covenanter, Harry Hopkins, Tetrach, and Sentinel tanks. A variety of armoured cars, as well as different self-propelled platforms.

Firing a 40mm projectile with a maximum range of 1,600 metres, with a round weighing roughly a kilogram. The system itself over 800 kilograms.

12,000 were produced from Britain, the sole manufacturer of the things and considered obsolete nearly as soon as it entered service.

What an absolutely useless weapon.

Perfect.

Huu found the jackpot, an anti-tank system he could say was perfect for use on the battlefields of the Inner Sphere, but not too useless (like the 1-pounder pom-pom) that would give the game away. That way they would realise he was trying to make a loss, or was trying to defraud people out of their money and face the public consequences that came with that. Not legal consequences though since the only investor he had was the System. Just this side of 'potentially' useful, but also incredibly useless, the 2-pdr was the best choice to maintain some kind of public reputation... so he could keep losing money later!

The 2-pdr was perfect!

The blueprints were simple enough and the manufacturing even more so. A solid tube of steel that is hammer forged to make it harder. Bored out, then autofrettage-d to increase strength. Or rather, the inside of the tube was push outwards beyond its natural elasticity, while the outside layers remained elastic. The inside is hard, while the outside remained elastic. Then grooved, a breech block shoved on and the gun was ready.

Compared to construction in the Inner Sphere it was incredibly simple. Especially as it didn't have an autoloader. All one needed was a few skilled craftsmen to man the entire production line.

Which was what led him here today, to Lott's Revenge. Capital of the planet, home to a significant portion of the planet's one billion strong population.

In a population so large, on a world that originally held a great deal of heavy industry. There were a large number of artisan machinists. Remnants from a time before the rare minerals had been played out (at least on the surface), and the Combine/Bandit raids to destroy said heavy infrastructure in the Second Succession War. Maintaining their headquarters, the machinists were themselves part of Interstellar Association of Machinists, spread across the entirety of the Lyran Commonwealth. Here to protect the rights of machinists everywhere they found employment in the Commonwealth. Even Defiance Industries had to speak softly in the face of their influence.

Trying to negotiate for master craftsmen wasn't in the cards today, not when he could find the journeymen and apprentices to handle the work. The gloriousness of obsolete equipment meant that nearly anyone with the basic Lyran qualifications in metalworking could handle his new equipment. Especially given how manufacture of modern equipment in the current era required what could only be called technological wizardry.

Huu had calculated it out last night as he sat in his cottage. Workers were needed, the initial tooling to be leased from his parents (who had already agreed with some amusement), some land to be leased from the duke. Who also happened to be the Blackjack School of Conflict's (the only privately run mechwarrior school in the Commonwealth^tm) headmaster.

Metal, which was in abundant supply given he needed the 'common' metals like nickel, chrome, iron, brass, etc. Nothing truly rare, abundant within basically any planet in a solar system. Building the shed where the construction would take place... and it wasn't much more complicated than that.

Well, that and hiring the workers, the most expensive part of the whole affair.

Standard wages were around 750kr a fortnight for middle class worker or journeyman. Factoring that in, he had 200,000kr to work with... hiring one individual would run 9,000kr for six months. Five for 45,000kr. For a lower class worker, or apprentice it was 500kr a fortnight. 6000kr for six months, fifteen for 90,000kr. All together, the required workers would cost 135,000kr for six months. 

That left 65,000kr for materials and renting the machinery from the museum from Huu's parents. Well, that and transport, food, safety, establishing the base site, and everything else he needed to pay for outside of the workers themselves. Quite a bit of work... which would just cost more money!

Better to keep everything above board as it were.

The craftsmen however required some talking, him wearing a mask wasn't exactly helping matters, but it was better than leaking fluids from his nostrils as he constantly snuffled like a pig hunting for meat truffles in the autumn.

Standing in front of the main office, itself a grand edifice of a building. Wrought iron wrapping around the rockcrete building, bringing a harsh, yet elegant beauty to the brutal structure. The metal heated in such a way that it demonstrated a rainbow of metallic tints as it twisted and turned to form a veritable forest of metal.

The front gate, for all it was modern with glass panelling, did not manage to avoid the elegance of a worked frame. The hand beaten metal clearly demonstrating the skills of those inside this very structure. Assuming they weren't off on contracts of their own, of course.

Stepping through the front door he was met with a receptionist. A bulky young man sitting in what was clearly the 'muckraker' of jobs, preparing them for dealing with unruly clients in a more controlled setting. No doubt there would be fond reminiscence of this task when the apprentices were old and dusty and crotchety and other descriptive words for old.

But not now.

In any case, Huu stepped through the doors, carefully pushing aside the double artisan crafted panels of glass and iron. One simply did not disrespect an artisan's skill or property.

The simple desk, made again of worked metal, glinting with a variety of hues of the rainbow, protected the young receptionist. One who looked up and gave a small wave.

"Huu! Here for the routine maintenance run?" The young man, Ronaldo called out. His dark skin dull and lifeless, the life of a receptionist was clearly not what he thought today would bring. Also, not the person Huu thought he would be meeting today. Not when the job usually fell to Ronaldo's more outspoken (a polite way of saying rude) cousin.

"Ronaldo! No, I'm here on a private matter. I've just come into some cash from an investment... and... uh. Need a little help getting people to handle the work side of things."

Ronaldo just looked at Huu with eyes that said 'right. go on. I have never heard this before' in a non-sarcastic way. Huu had never been one to go on flights of fancy. There was something off but nobody had ever called Huu socially aware.

"No, no, seriously. I've got a plan to help protect Blackjack from another raid like the one in 83'. See, the parents run a museum for old weapons... why can't we use the tools they have to make more. Less effective than an autocannon, but there's a billion people on this world. Enough guns and we can punch right through anyone that comes over!"

Huu was making up the fact that the 2-pdr was going to be useful for anything of course. But he might have gotten a little carried away at the end, a danger when he got too excited about anything and the words started to spill from his mouth in a never-ending torrent. Some had compared it to a sewage pipe. For Huu, it was just as useful as using one for clean drinking water.

"That sounds like a grand dream, Huu. Never thought I would hear something like that from you of course. You've got some of your mother's fire in you after all."

Ah. it turned out that it wasn't Ronaldo looking at him with ambivalence, but rather trying to look engaged as his master came in. Master machinist Erwin Jaxon. The same height as Huu (which wasn't saying much), the man was a walking boulder of muscle. Not what you would expect of a machinist. Erwin had always said the need to manually move equipment in the case of failure justified the amount of effort he put into his arm cannons. The lineage of master to apprentice was obvious through musculature alone if one looked at Erwin and Ronaldo standing next to each other.

Dark skin glimmering with sweat, the flowing locks on his head tied into a man-bun behind his head. The shaved patch at the top of his head telling all he was a mechwarrior as well as a machinist, Erwin Jaxon might as well have been one of the original Black Muslims who had settled in the Tamar Pact. Escaping persecution for race and skin colour, they had developed a deep-seated need for military strength and economic independence. Erwin embodied both of those ideals in a package that could probably tear the legs off a Locust on his own.

Turning around Huu beamed, or at least eye-smiled given the mask. Itself a rigid plastic shell with two clip-on filters. All the better to keep plant sex juices out of his nose.

"Master Jaxon! I was just telling Ronaldo I've gathered some kroner together. I've got a plan, some cash, and I need some help getting it all together."

Erwin peered at him with a benevolent gaze. The kind old people gave to young outspoken teenagers... which Huu was right at this moment.

"Right mister Eggers, it does look like we need to do some talking."

+_+

Coming out of the machinist headquarters, Huu wiped some of the sweat from his brow. Clammy given how cool it was inside... but! He had completed phase one of the operation. Talk to the machinists and hire a number to start the whole operation off. Well, the second part of phase one.

The first was hiring some people to build the shed that they were going to be working from. A shed over some hastily flattened ground, it was barely adequate for what they were doing. Nowhere near the climate controlled laboratory settings that modern equipment was manufactured inside.

Hiring some of the equipment from his parents, getting the machinists on side with the union negotiating for transit and provisions. Stuff he was planning anyway of course... which made the negotiations somewhat simpler, what they wanted was what he was willing to provide. All of it cost System funds, System funds he was trying to lose!

Now it was a matter of sourcing the materials, which shouldn't be a problem, and storage.

Erwin, former mechwarrior that he was, had asked about transport. Having assisted various militia units after his time as a frontline combatant, Erwin knew that a majority of the Lyran Commonwealth's soldiery was infantry and vehicles. Mechs were concentrated on mobile commands, bulwarking the militia, but rarely ever assigned to worlds permanently (at least this far from the front).

Militia were what garrisoned worlds permanently and the ban on anything over medium mechs for household units left many militia's anaemic. Especially given the Commonwealth's lack of production for anything that wasn't a Heavy or Assault. Hell, it was self-inflicted at this point with three medium mech lines converted to producing heavies sometime past. So he was dealing with infantry and for infantry transport the for field guns was key. Asking infantry to push around an 800 kilogram gun was asking for trouble.

So, Huu considered transport. The one he had put forth and Erwin accepted was the Universal Carrier. Why not build some Universal Carriers while he was at it, the young Eggers asked himself. They would transport the guns, were three tons each, tracked, and with a 91 litre fuel tank and an operational range of 250 kilometres. Worse still, it's top speed was 48 kilometres an hour.

In other words, it was nigh-absolute trash in the modern era. Who would want a vehicle that could only travel 48 kilometres an hour, which didn't even have a covering over the top to protect the driver and passengers? One that was tracked which necessitated constant maintenance. One who's purpose in life was to carry soldiers around, drag field guns to the fight and little else.

Absolutely, fucking nobody. That's who.

In the modern age, vehicles could do everything given how even trucks had machine guns. How they all had BAR10 armour, and some even had fusion engines. Who needed this specialised trash?

Yet another avenue to lose money Huu thought to himself triumphantly.

As he got into his car to return to the cottage. All the better to continue his plotting, he sang gently (after he was outside the city that is).

~Losing money, I'm gonna be losing money~

The driving the smooth, the very modern Armasteel Docke his parents had bought second hand years ago, the height of middle-class luxury. Windows downs, radio blasting at maximum volume, Huu felt the incredible sensation of success fill him.

Able to go 150 kilometres an hour, weighing four tons, with an operational range of 400 kilometres on 30 litres. Ha! who would even think of buying a Universal Carrier when they had a Docke in their garage?

He was a genius!