BattleTech: Shrapnel Issue #1 (BattleTech Magazine) by unknow

Author:unknow
Language: eng
Format: azw3
Publisher: Catalyst Game Labs
Published: 2020-06-15T05:00:00+00:00

ARC-ROYAL

FEDERATED COMMONWEALTH

21 NOVEMBER 3052

“You know, I don’t think I’ve ever seen you take that off.”

Jason looked up into the mirror, where behind him Morgan Kell had entered his room. He rubbed a thumb over the Bushido Blade he’d been pinning to his dress uniform. “It feels good there, like an old friend.”

Morgan smiled. “I had to spend a decade in a monastery to learn that lesson.”

“Wisdom well-earned.” Jason ran a hand through his still mostly black hair. It wouldn’t be tamed, ever. “I think this parade will test Melissa’s patience more than the medals I wear.”

“One day you’ll tell me how you know my cousin so well.”

“One day you’ll tell me how you do that thing with your ’Mech.”

“Touché.” Morgan took a seat, crossing one long leg over the other to wipe something from his shiny dress boot. “How are the repairs coming?”

“They’re…they’re not.” A cloud that Jason had been holding at bay suddenly fell over him, a damp, dark shroud whispering one word: Dispossessed. His hands fell from the sash he’d been fastening. “The conversion gear is totally shot, and I can’t find parts for less than the cost of a duchy. I’d hoped I could leverage my new standing with Takashi Kurita for something from LexaTech, but with Irece in Nova Cat hands…” He shrugged. “She’s one of the last Phoenix Hawk LAMs in the Inner Sphere, and it’s looking more and more like she’ll never fly again. Maybe never even walk.” Jason had known this for months, but actually saying the words was like draining all the life out of the room. That ’Mech had been his father’s. Now it may as well be buried with him.

“Come on.” Morgan stood and threw an arm around Jason’s shoulders. “Nothing cheers a man up like a good walk in the ’Mech bay.”

A few moments later they were strolling through a place they had no business being in their clean and pressed dress uniforms, but it felt so much more like home that Jason didn’t care. Morgan was right. He couldn’t help feeling comforted by the sounds and smells, by the rowdy shouts of techs scraping every last bit of dirt from the Kell Hounds machines in preparation for the Archon’s parade.

“It’s not too late,” Morgan said as they walked past his Archer. “We can rebuild the Crescent Hawks any time you’re ready. Half my Hounds would desert me for your colors if you just said the word.”

A ponderous silence fell, which Morgan was kind enough not to break. That monastery had taught him patience, and when to use it. Jason considered it for a long time as they passed row after row of freshly repaired Kell Hounds BattleMechs. Every path of thought led to one conclusion: it wouldn’t be the same. His Crescent Hawks were a family he’d lived with for two decades. Many of them had been with him since the beginning, had followed him behind Clan lines for a year of hard living in three Leopard-class DropShips, never setting foot on a world where they weren’t in danger.

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