Debauchery Worlds 39 (Patreon)

Commissioned by Southmonk

Debauchery Worlds

Chapter 39

-VB-

Alessandro Steiner

Tharkad, Lyran Commonwealth

2981.10.18

Only a year into his Archonship and Alessandro already hated the meaningless paperwork that supposedly did something for the sake of the Commonwealth but which he found petty and useless. 

In fact, he didn’t even want to be in this office. It was … his father’s office. It still didn’t feel like his. 

In fact, he felt more at home in the regimented lifestyle of the military and not in the political stage of Tharkad. He hated being on Tharkad, actually. Why did his ancestor and the other merchant houses choose Tharkad of all places to be the capital of the Commonwealth? There were plenty of warmer worlds. His birth planet of Furillo, for example was a great world. Hell, Donegal next door over was admittedly too hot at an average of 40 degrees Celsius throughout the year, but air conditioners existed for a reason!

… whatever. 

He should focus on his role as the archon.

Personally, he wanted to focus everything he had to Operation FREEDOM against the Draconis Combine, especially since the news reached the Commonwealth that the Combine lost one of their provincial capitals in Proserpina. The Combine was focused on the Federated Suns, so their border worlds should be weaker, which meant it would be easier for his soldiers to take back the worlds they lost during the First and Second Succession Wars. 

What concerned him, though, and thus brought him to his office was how the Federated Suns achieved their advances. 

“So this is their newest dropship, huh?” he muttered to himself as he finally got to the report detailing the weapon of war that supposedly earned the Federated Suns Proserpina. 

A summary description of the dropship was thus.

“A dropship built around two giant guns.”

And considering the kind of firepower they purportedly displayed against the Combine in space battle, he had to agree that it was a fitting description. These “MACs” - magnetic accelerated cannons - were not built on new technologies but rather old ones that humanity has had for over nine hundred years at this point, though only practically since the 26th century. 

A MAC was, as he understood it, just a giant gauss cannon. A naval gauss, one could say, but made such that a dropship carry and power it. 

He pressed the right arrow on his noteputer, and watched a holovid of the “Stomata” in action. 

How it bulldozed through any opposition. 

How it performed near suicidal atmospheric maneuvers to counter aerospace fighters that should have been the death of it. 

How the Combine fell to its might. 

He wanted that dropship. 

He looked through the intel and then found what he wanted: the manufacturers. 

“... Marris Mercenaries on David II?” he hummed to himself as he dragged a star map noteputer to his side. He turned it on and looked up the system name. David II… Wait, wasn’t there news regarding that system? Before he could continue his search, someone knocked on his office doors. With a huff, he paused and pressed on the intercom button for the guards outside. “What is it?” he asked gruffly, a little irritated that his search was interrupted. 

“Archon, Princess Lisa Steiner and Katrina Steiner are here.”

“... Let them in,” he said with a sighing groan. The double doors of his opulent office opened, and he leaned on one hand as he looked at his oldest sister and his niece. “What brings you here, sister?” he asked her. “You know I generally don’t like visits during work hours.”

Lisa just rolled her eyes. “I will never understand how you ended up being the stiff one out of us all.” Then she reached down and lifted five year old Katrina up. “It’s little Katrina’s birthday soon! I hope you didn’t forget?” 

He huffed. Of course, he didn’t… He prepared his niece’s presents last month. 

Alessandro knew, of course, that the girl was unlikely to ride an Atlas anytime soon and would have bought her a light mech if it wasn’t for one of his secretaries pointing out that girls Katrina’s age didn’t like mechs. 

The thought still baffled him.

“If I forgot, you’d have my hide behind closed doors. I don’t think my guards will save me when you’re grabbing my ear.”

“And they better not. So you will be there for the party?”

He grunted. “Yes, assuming nothing substantial pops up.”

She smiled. “Good. Now, Katrina,” she cooed at her daughter. “Do you think Uncle Aly looks tired?”

“Yes,” the girl said with a sniff. “He has too much noteputers around him.”

He chuckled. “Yes, I do have too many noteputers around me,” he hummed. “But being an Archon means I have to deal with it all, Katrina. I hope you remember that.”

Katrina stuck out her tongue. “I don’t wanna be the Archon! I wanna go on adventures!” 

He sighed. “Me, too, kid. Me, too,” he said as he glanced at the repeating holovid of the “Stomata” dropship in action.

He would make sure to have someone talk to those mercenaries about buying the license to manufacture that dropship.

-VB-

6A3

Terra, ComStar

2981.10.18

The great thing about the original and most of the clones walking around with their helmets was that most people didn’t recognize him when he went to Thandvich, a local sandwich shop. 

Hell, he even regularly talked to the ComStar acolytes who came to the sandwich shop for their lunch. 

They were utterly oblivious about his presence on their precious Terra or the fact that he had been involved in bombing their sacred HPG stations. 

“Yo, Jake! You’re here again!” he raised his hand and greeted a young acolyte. 

The pale speckled black man looked up from his tray and saw him. “Oh, Daniel. What’s up?” he asked with a sigh of relief that just oozed exhaustion. He walked over to the table 6A3 was eating at and sat down.

“Nothing much,” 6A3 replied with a shrug. “Just cruising along, I guess?”

Jake sighed. “I wish I could, but you know what happened.”

“It’s only the biggest news that has had a lasting impact,” “Daniel” rolled his eyes. “But that’s been months already. Half a year. Shouldn’t they be putting you to work on something new?” 

Normally, a member of ComStar wouldn’t talk about what they did inside a HPG station or whatever other work they did for ComStar. The phone company did a very good job disguising security policies into their religious practices. Even so, Jake thought me a friend and secretly shared what he’d been up to.

He was Jake Ereshma, Sigma Adept Grade X of ComStar News Bureau. Or in plain terms, he was a full member of ComStar as a public relations manager for ten years within ComStar’s propaganda machine. He’s been spinning a lot of fantastical tales for the rest of the Inner Sphere to hear about instead of the actual news and facts that news that could be used against ComStar. 

“The precentor thinks that, you know, people of special interest needs to be distracted further.”

“Hmm. They are barbarians, after all. I can understand why he thinks that way.”

ComStar was on full alert, essentially, and even if Marris Mercenaries was their focus, they didn’t allow themselves to be distracted from “containing” the five Successor Lords. 

Jake, as far as I understood it, used to work on articles for the ComStar News Bureau that focused on painting a very specific kind of image for its audiences, namely that wastefulness of their leadership. 

“Tell me more,” 6A3 asked as he took a bite of his BLT sandwich. 

Adept Jake was the highest contact he’s made so far within ComStar, and keeping the man talking was the best way to continue being friendly with him.

-VB-

A2

Dreadmurk Shore, Dustwallow Marsh, Kalimdor

2981.10.05

“A desert.”

“A savanna.”

“And now a fucking swamp,” A2 snarled as he and the other two clones marched through the shores of the Dustwallow Marsh on their way toward Theramore. 

“Aren’t there a shit ton of Murlocs here?”

“There are.”

“... Why don’t we do a rough scan of the region? Theramore might not even be built yet.”

“Ugh.”

A2, being the leader, decided to act rather than talk. He pulled up his left arm, popped open the cover on his forearm guard, and clicked away at the touchscreen display previously hidden by the cover. Then he waited as the improved long range scanner built into all clones’ forearm guard armor pulsed and received data. 

After just a minute, he got his results. 

A hologram popped up, showing a circular area with a radius of roughly 100 miles.

And right at the edge of this circular hologram was a heavily fortified island. 

“Theramore’s a thing,” he sighed. He really hoped that they hadn’t arrived yet, because that would mean that at the very least they would not have to traverse the Murloc infested shores of Dustwallow Marsh. 

“Ugh.”

“Fuck,” the other two clones muttered in unison.

“Alright, let’s get moving,” A2 sighed. 

And then pulled off his laser rifle from his back and fired at a hidden murloc waiting to ambush them up ahead. 

As if on cue, a score of murlocs popped out from everywhere. From under the water, under the sand, under a fucking rock, and even from underneath a driftwood trunk.

The other clones groaned as they armed themselves with their own laser rifles.

And then they fired into the gurgling fish people.

They were so going to smell fishy.