March 20, 2174 / May 8, 3024
Sol, Earth, Brétigny-sur-Orge Air Base, 27 km southeast of Paris, Walker Cluster
Stephan Köhler looked up from the desk of his newly renovated office and at Hakam Singh, who had been made the UN liaison to his mercenary company. Stephan had to say that he had come to like the man, especially after he had managed to calm everyone down the moment they had heard there were aliens around.
"May I come in?" Hakam asked after knocking at the door frame.
"Of course," Stephan answered and stood up. "How can I help you?"
There was still the noise of construction coming from the outside, but it was a bit different from what he was used to. Sure there was the noise of large saws and jack hammers, but most concrete construction was made by something that the Rothikel Brothers called 'building printers'. And they did what the name implied, they pretty much 'printed' walls in viscous concrete, with robotic arms inserting reinforcements automatically.
"For one, I would like to thank you for those star maps you have given us," Hakam said as he entered the room. "The UN has launched a few scouting missions to take a look around."
Stephan raised an eyebrow and gestured to the other chair in front of his desk, sitting down and allowing Hakam to do the same.
"You aren't trust us?" he asked.
"Trust, but verify," Hakam answered with a shrug. "But it is mostly to satisfy our alien allies we are not telling lies."
Stephan leaned back.
"I still have a hard time believing that there are actually intelligent aliens around... I mean... I am used to alien animals, but..."
Hakam chuckled.
"We had many decades to get used to it, after the discovery of the ruins on Mars," he said.
Stephan shook his head.
"Still hard to believe that they are friendly..."
"They are just people like is."
He sighed.
"How can I help you?" he repeated.
Hakam made a hmming sound.
"I came to ask you concerning the Intelligence part of your contract," he said, ostentatiously looking at the small book shelf behind Stephan.
Stephan nodded and turned, pulling out one of them and putting it on the desk. Jane's All the Worlds BattleMechs.
"That is not a problem," he said. "I have talked to my people. They are okay with being debriefed."
Hakam nodded.
"What about... technical information?"
Stephan looked out of the window and at the large 'building printer' currently building the new Mech hangars. Then at his new computer on the desk. Like many things, it was hard to wraps his head around and its user interface. A transparent thin piece of polymer was the screen and apparently the computer itself, with just a power cord attached to it. The keyboard was a wireless device as was the mouse. And still it was connected to a massive planetary database called 'the Internet'. He still had to find something it didn't contain.
"You need technical information?" he wondered.
"We would like to know the technical capabilities of the Inner Sphere," Hakam answered.
"And to know how to build Mechs?" Stephan wondered.
"Perhaps..."
Stephan leaned back in his chair to think for a moment. His mechs did need maintenance, especially his own Battle Master. The armor needed to be patched up and the myomers of the left legs had suffered from heat damage for the last two years. If they helped these people with technology, maybe they could get replacement parts?
"I believe we have can help you there. And I will ask Darcia to help out there."
"Darcia?"
"Darcia Sandoval. She is our Chief Mechanic. And she got a degree in theoretical physics and wrote her doctorate in Kearny-Fuchida theory, I believe."
---------------
April 15, 2174 / June 3, 3024
Ammann, 45.3 LY from Sol
"I didn't know what to expect," Lieutenant David Winchester said as he saved his weapon. "But I certainly did not expect any Amish..."
Winchester was standing in front of a shuttle of USS Momsen, looking out from the simple concrete landing strip in the midth of idyllic looking farm and pasture land, and towards the dirt road leading towards a small town in the medium distance, maybe three kilometers away. There were two black carriages rolling down the dirt road, pulled by some sort of bird like creatures. Each had a man sitting on the drivers seat, wearing the quite classical simple outfit of the Amish.
"What are Amish?" he heard someone ask and turned around, looking at the larger form of a Tiaunt.
The dragonoid alien had walked up from the shuttle of his space craft, looking in the same direction. Behind him, several crews of other shuttles from the Quetzal survivor nations were arriving as well.
"They are followers of a Christian denomination. They believe in living simple and are best known for not using much modern technology."
He got a glare from one of the Aldmoru Quetzal.
"Then what are they doing on this planet without technology?"
Winchester shrugged.
"Maybe they paid to be transported here?" he wondered.
He saw that some aliens were looking around the landing strip. While it was relatively well maintained and easy to land on, there were many cracks everywhere, with plants growing in them. In some places the surface was carbonized from high temperatures and one or two aliens were poking it. Near the dirt road and the landing strip where numerous barns and other buildings made from wood. Here and there the paint had chipped off or a plank was missing from the buildings, while plants grew between them.
All in all the landing strip looked old, almost ancient.
He turned back around and stepped forwards as the carriage stopped and the two men stepped down from them. They walked towards each other and talked for a few moments, looking over to the motley assembly of shuttles, humans and aliens of four different species. Eventually one of them walked over, while the other sat back on his carriage and began to drive back to the town.
The man looked much the part of an Amish, the same beard, clothing and hat Winchester knew from back home in Lancaster County. The material looked a little different and the colors didn't quite match, but it was all close.
"Welcome to Ammann," the man said in English with a strong accent Winchester could not place, but he was sure had developed here. The man looked tense, his eyes moving to the aliens more often than he obviously wanted.
"Thank you, Mr..."
"Dorngrad," was the answer and the man seemed to steel himself for what he said next. "We did not expect traders to come here so soon."
Winchester filed the mans nervousness away for the moment, willing to be that the analysts in orbit were already working over all the data they were collecting. The most obvious source of nervousness were the aliens of course, but for some reason, he didn't believe to be the only problem.
"We are not traders, Mr. Dorngrad," he said with a smile and a relaxed posture, trying to set the man at ease. "We are explorers and..."
"We are attempting to discover if you haven't been put onto this world just a short while ago to deceive us," one of the Aldmoru Quetzal said abruptly, and Winchester was sure it happened to be the one that had glared at him earlier. "For whatever reason you humans want to deceive us."
Winchester twitched and fought hard not to face palm at the interruption, while there were a few murmurs from some aliens. Dorngrad meanwhile spluttered.
"We have settled here five hundred years ago," he almost spluttered. "After we have been driven out of Eilenburg by the Lyrans."
He had almost spat out the last word, glaring at the Quetzal, making Winchester hope the man didn't think to compare the Quetzal to the biblical snake, as one or two fundamentalist Christian sects in the US had done.
"What are these..." Dorngard said, turning back to Winchester, an eyebrow twitching, "people? And what are they doing here?"
Winchester took in a deep breath. This was going to be a long day.
Sol, Earth, Brétigny-sur-Orge Air Base, 27 km southeast of Paris, Walker Cluster
Stephan Köhler looked up from the desk of his newly renovated office and at Hakam Singh, who had been made the UN liaison to his mercenary company. Stephan had to say that he had come to like the man, especially after he had managed to calm everyone down the moment they had heard there were aliens around.
"May I come in?" Hakam asked after knocking at the door frame.
"Of course," Stephan answered and stood up. "How can I help you?"
There was still the noise of construction coming from the outside, but it was a bit different from what he was used to. Sure there was the noise of large saws and jack hammers, but most concrete construction was made by something that the Rothikel Brothers called 'building printers'. And they did what the name implied, they pretty much 'printed' walls in viscous concrete, with robotic arms inserting reinforcements automatically.
"For one, I would like to thank you for those star maps you have given us," Hakam said as he entered the room. "The UN has launched a few scouting missions to take a look around."
Stephan raised an eyebrow and gestured to the other chair in front of his desk, sitting down and allowing Hakam to do the same.
"You aren't trust us?" he asked.
"Trust, but verify," Hakam answered with a shrug. "But it is mostly to satisfy our alien allies we are not telling lies."
Stephan leaned back.
"I still have a hard time believing that there are actually intelligent aliens around... I mean... I am used to alien animals, but..."
Hakam chuckled.
"We had many decades to get used to it, after the discovery of the ruins on Mars," he said.
Stephan shook his head.
"Still hard to believe that they are friendly..."
"They are just people like is."
He sighed.
"How can I help you?" he repeated.
Hakam made a hmming sound.
"I came to ask you concerning the Intelligence part of your contract," he said, ostentatiously looking at the small book shelf behind Stephan.
Stephan nodded and turned, pulling out one of them and putting it on the desk. Jane's All the Worlds BattleMechs.
"That is not a problem," he said. "I have talked to my people. They are okay with being debriefed."
Hakam nodded.
"What about... technical information?"
Stephan looked out of the window and at the large 'building printer' currently building the new Mech hangars. Then at his new computer on the desk. Like many things, it was hard to wraps his head around and its user interface. A transparent thin piece of polymer was the screen and apparently the computer itself, with just a power cord attached to it. The keyboard was a wireless device as was the mouse. And still it was connected to a massive planetary database called 'the Internet'. He still had to find something it didn't contain.
"You need technical information?" he wondered.
"We would like to know the technical capabilities of the Inner Sphere," Hakam answered.
"And to know how to build Mechs?" Stephan wondered.
"Perhaps..."
Stephan leaned back in his chair to think for a moment. His mechs did need maintenance, especially his own Battle Master. The armor needed to be patched up and the myomers of the left legs had suffered from heat damage for the last two years. If they helped these people with technology, maybe they could get replacement parts?
"I believe we have can help you there. And I will ask Darcia to help out there."
"Darcia?"
"Darcia Sandoval. She is our Chief Mechanic. And she got a degree in theoretical physics and wrote her doctorate in Kearny-Fuchida theory, I believe."
---------------
April 15, 2174 / June 3, 3024
Ammann, 45.3 LY from Sol
"I didn't know what to expect," Lieutenant David Winchester said as he saved his weapon. "But I certainly did not expect any Amish..."
Winchester was standing in front of a shuttle of USS Momsen, looking out from the simple concrete landing strip in the midth of idyllic looking farm and pasture land, and towards the dirt road leading towards a small town in the medium distance, maybe three kilometers away. There were two black carriages rolling down the dirt road, pulled by some sort of bird like creatures. Each had a man sitting on the drivers seat, wearing the quite classical simple outfit of the Amish.
"What are Amish?" he heard someone ask and turned around, looking at the larger form of a Tiaunt.
The dragonoid alien had walked up from the shuttle of his space craft, looking in the same direction. Behind him, several crews of other shuttles from the Quetzal survivor nations were arriving as well.
"They are followers of a Christian denomination. They believe in living simple and are best known for not using much modern technology."
He got a glare from one of the Aldmoru Quetzal.
"Then what are they doing on this planet without technology?"
Winchester shrugged.
"Maybe they paid to be transported here?" he wondered.
He saw that some aliens were looking around the landing strip. While it was relatively well maintained and easy to land on, there were many cracks everywhere, with plants growing in them. In some places the surface was carbonized from high temperatures and one or two aliens were poking it. Near the dirt road and the landing strip where numerous barns and other buildings made from wood. Here and there the paint had chipped off or a plank was missing from the buildings, while plants grew between them.
All in all the landing strip looked old, almost ancient.
He turned back around and stepped forwards as the carriage stopped and the two men stepped down from them. They walked towards each other and talked for a few moments, looking over to the motley assembly of shuttles, humans and aliens of four different species. Eventually one of them walked over, while the other sat back on his carriage and began to drive back to the town.
The man looked much the part of an Amish, the same beard, clothing and hat Winchester knew from back home in Lancaster County. The material looked a little different and the colors didn't quite match, but it was all close.
"Welcome to Ammann," the man said in English with a strong accent Winchester could not place, but he was sure had developed here. The man looked tense, his eyes moving to the aliens more often than he obviously wanted.
"Thank you, Mr..."
"Dorngrad," was the answer and the man seemed to steel himself for what he said next. "We did not expect traders to come here so soon."
Winchester filed the mans nervousness away for the moment, willing to be that the analysts in orbit were already working over all the data they were collecting. The most obvious source of nervousness were the aliens of course, but for some reason, he didn't believe to be the only problem.
"We are not traders, Mr. Dorngrad," he said with a smile and a relaxed posture, trying to set the man at ease. "We are explorers and..."
"We are attempting to discover if you haven't been put onto this world just a short while ago to deceive us," one of the Aldmoru Quetzal said abruptly, and Winchester was sure it happened to be the one that had glared at him earlier. "For whatever reason you humans want to deceive us."
Winchester twitched and fought hard not to face palm at the interruption, while there were a few murmurs from some aliens. Dorngrad meanwhile spluttered.
"We have settled here five hundred years ago," he almost spluttered. "After we have been driven out of Eilenburg by the Lyrans."
He had almost spat out the last word, glaring at the Quetzal, making Winchester hope the man didn't think to compare the Quetzal to the biblical snake, as one or two fundamentalist Christian sects in the US had done.
"What are these..." Dorngard said, turning back to Winchester, an eyebrow twitching, "people? And what are they doing here?"
Winchester took in a deep breath. This was going to be a long day.