Debauchery Worlds 5 (Patreon)

Debauchery Worlds

Chapter 5

-VB-

DD-5

2980.06.25

Deep underneath the Marris Mercenary Compound, I and three others used tinkertech handheld extractors to break down the rocks.

Our purpose was to find natural resources we can refine, and for this, we branched out into rocks outside of our lands. It was illegal, yes, but what were the Federated Suns going to do when we dug kilometers underground, not near the surface?

We found plenty of iron, aluminum, and copper, and intended to use them as materials for our armor, weapons, and more. The problem was that we were having a hard time finding rare earth metals.

Yes, we managed to scrounge together another elemental synthesizer, but it was expensive to run those because it was extremely inefficient and power-hungry. We had to hook up a dozen of those light fusion engines from the mechs to power a device and at least thrice more material than what it spat out.

No, we needed a legitimate source of raw ores to refine and dump into fabricators. Until we had that, we would be limited in what we could create. Worse, this world didn't even have 20th century Earth's level of industrial output. Not the 1990’s, 70’s, 50’s, or goddamn even 30’s.

Once the mech salvage materials ran out and we didn’t get a new source of mats, we would be in deep shit.

-VB-

A-2

2980.07.07

“I-Is it really alright to work here?”

I smiled. “Of course. We don’t discriminate,” I replied as an elderly asian woman nodded gratefully while standing next to her son. I looked to the man who came to apply for a job with us.

See, once we established this compound of ours, we discovered very quickly that, uh, we can’t do everything at once. I, for example, was working mainly as soldier/guard, mechanic, and tinker. I didn’t have the time to also wash the dishes, cook the food, clean the entire compound, haul freshly manufactured parts to their storage or refit centers, and more.

Seriously, there were ten jobs someone needed to do to support one soldier, and nearly all of us Marrises became soldiers. We actually cut it down to ten support jobs from more than a dozen because we can source our own materials, manufactory, and weapons. Once we grew even bigger, then we would need even more as our own supports would need supports and surrounding civilian sector to keep them occupied as well.

This was why, despite the fact that it was unwise to hire locals who we helped get conquered, the original started recruiting people for those support jobs. None of the jobs were, of course, critical or even important. In fact, there were strict requirements to meet before anyone was even considered.

On a poverty-stricken, war-torn, and hungry planet like David II?

Well, it turned out that even brainwashed people were willing to ignore their previous “duties” if it meant that they get fill their bellies. Oh, not everyone in Polis (the nearest city) took up on the offer and more than a few were suspicious of us, but enough of them were desperate enough in the ruined cities to come begging.

And when we offered free housings and utilities (within limits) with the jobs…

Too many who remained quiet in fear during Kuritan rule came out in droves in search of opportunity during Davion rule. As another of our number guided the mother-son duo to their new house, I greeted another family. Or a remnant of one.

It was a kid with a baby bundled up on his back. Dirty, weak, and tired, I still saw fire in his eyes.

"What are you here for, kid?"

"Work. Any kind of work," he replied hoarsely but not weakly. "I'll dig out the latrines, clean the toilet, and more if you want me to."

"... what's your name, kid?"

"... John."

"Well, 'John,'" I said. "It looks like you have the right spirit for work. 1-G over there will take you to your new home and show you where you can get some other supplies."

I marked him down as a new "support" recruit.

-VB-

F-7

2980.07.10

Of course, it wasn’t all easy peasy like A-2 made it seem in his head.

There were plenty of Kurita loyalists among the civilians, and weeding them out was a job for us.

Well, weeding them out on top of breaking apart any riots, protests, and actual assaults.

As part of the garrison contract, the Marris Mercenaries were obligated to take part in “any military operation carried out in the the defense of the capital city and its starport, within reason.”

And making sure protests didn’t turn into riots, no matter how sickly and starved they were, was part of that. Having been here for two months now, our numbers had swelled to over sixty from the original’s cloning power, which we weren’t sure to this day if it was a Shard-based power or not. Regardless, twenty of our numbers, including myself, was stationed inside the governor’s building at the center of the city. Three of us were in our modified Locust mechs, and the rest of us were in upscaled version of our normal armors.

Unlike the more “inviting” red and white “Legion” armor that was designed with PR in mind for Earth Bet’s environ, the current “Marox” armors appeared threatening with its nine foot tall and six foot wide frame of hermatically sealed, armored exoskeleton. If their size was threatening, then their warpaint and appearance made them look menacing. The faceplate of the full-coverage helmet looked like the front of a skull with glowing red eyes; streaks of red paint running down from the eyes to the jaw mimicked tears of blood on a white armor; angry, zagged, swirling, and striped red paints across the dull white armor gave off the appearance of war while also messing with people’s perception of how many of us were really there; and finally, our giant guns - 2 meters long and half a meter tall - had giant single-blade bayonets underneath the barrel with the implied threat that there were more personal ways to die than by bullet hail.

It was, in essence, a mixture of space marine armor from Warhammer 40k for the general outline and death knights from Warcraft for the scary look. Both of them were edgy, so it was high time they got together, you know?

As for the capabilities of the Marox powered infantry armor, they weren’t space marine material. It certainly could not survive a sustained manchine gun fire but will survive short bursts. Its primary purpose was to give its user great strength and speed, up to a one ton lift and forty kilometers per hour speed, as well as some defense but most importantly jump jets.

Yes, Marox armors made us discount Starcraft Reapers.

Where did we get the parts for it? Well, we happened to have a lot of ruined mechs in our compound…

And with seventeen of us armored up in these powered armors and carrying guns powerful enough to punch holes through a dozen people as well as three Locust (M) mechs…

It was a shit situation. We can’t exactly shoot civilians just because they are angry. It wasn’t as if they were even trying to break into the governor’s building, though that may be because they saw us and got scared.

Thankfully, we were not put directly in front of the mobs but rather inside the premise of the governor’s building, which was behind iron fences and strong sturdy cement base.

“GET OUT DAVION DOGS!”
“DOWN WITH DAVION!”
“BANZAI DRACONIS COMBINE!”

But I also thought that half of these people had to be plants. Like who the fuck in the border worlds actually cared about national loyalty when both sides bombed and torched your homes, jobs, and world?

So we ignored their words and stood guard.

That said, we also got permission to do this.

One of our numbers, F-7, stood aside without an armor or weapon but in regular Legion armor in a food truck. And what did he do? During his free time?

“Get your fresh pancakes here! Provided to the people of Polis for the peaceful protest! Get your fresh pancakes here!” F-7 shouted rather happily from within the food truck.

That.

One of the more hungry looking kids… Shit, was it that bad? Her cheeks were bony. Anyway, she gingerly walked up to the front of the food truck that the rest of the protestors were avoiding.

“Y-You’re going to give us food?” she asked me. Even her state of dress - a ragged t-shirt, torn denim pants, dirty shoes, and dirt-caked hair and skin - looked horrible.

“Yes! On the contingent that you protest without violence,” F-7 replied with a big fat smile. Oh yeah, he didn’t have his helmet on at the moment. “When things get violent, I can’t do business afterward, you know~!”

I glanced at the exchange as did some of the protestors.

“O-Okay.”

And F-7 quickly whipped up a double-layer pancake drizzled with syrup (all of it made with tinkertech fabricator and some supplies we bought from the 41st Hussars; they were willing to part with ten freight boxes worth of edible supplies for a nearly nonfunctional Locust).

She took the styrofoam plate and plastic fork with the pancake and dug in on the spot.

That was enough for a few others to join in.

And then that started a small but steady acceleration of protestors choosing food over the protest.

Again, not everyone joined. Many of the diehards glared at F-7 and their neighbors who went to eat free food. As the smiles around the food truck grew, the mood of the protest fell as there was now a clear divide.

It was here that we began to find who might be the instigators of the protest. They wove through the crowd while trying to be discreet as possible. They whispered to people. They snarled and hissed, tutted where needed, and glared wordlessly with others.

We marked them down as "suspicious" and sent copies of the men's faces to the AFFS.

Thankfully whether because of the food we provided or because the protestors never intended to be foolish, it all ended quietly later that day with all protestors leaving peacefully.

-VB-

Alan Marris (the original)

2980.07.13

Our base was not yet complete but stable and defendable enough that I felt we could try to do other things.

Like exploring new worlds and that was what 2-C, 2-D, and 2-E were gearing up to do.

Once those three completely geared up and stood in front of me, I brought out the NavGate, a torso-sized device running on a cold fusion reactor built into it, and lit it up.

A tear in reality opened up again, and my clones ventured forth bravely.

The tear closed behind them quickly, and left me alone in the thick lead-lined basement. I left the place and walked up the stairs to my office.

I paid attention briefly to the three exploring clones' perspectives. They were in a summer deciduous forest and nothing seemed out of the ordinary.

Seeing that there was nothing interesting on their end, I focused back on my work.

Specifically, I needed to figure out the employee pay stub for the nearly fifty people I hired for all manners of jobs. I think we were going to have to spend at least a third of what we were getting paid for our garrison contract to pay the employees.

Ah, the joys of expansion. Every time we grew big enough, someone always ended up doing the boring office work. B-1 used to do all of the office work back home for the main Legion base but now, it was my turn.

… And there was a perfect song to go with this. One that I knew by heart, and if I couldn’t find it in this world, then I sure am gonna explore the multiverse to find it.

“I got bills~,” I hummed. “I gotta pay~. So I’m gonna work work work everyday~.”

I and everyone else didn’t notice until far later that one of the employees we hired ran away with one of our tinkertech rifles.

… Not that we cared. Those things need our more heavily guarded Legion armors to recharge.

-VB-

MIIO Internal Files
Observation Details

Company Name: Marris Mercenary
Commander: Alan Marris (male)(? y.o.)(? origin)
Type: Battlemech Mercenaries
Battle Prowess: High
Composition: 1 Scouting Lance (4 Locusts (L-MM01), 1 Anti-Mech Infantry Company

Action:
-Keep them occupied on David II.
-Acquire samples of their lostech without jeopardizing their contract with the Federated Suns.
-Investigate and identify the company’s suppliers.
-Investigate and identify the purpose of the merc commander, Alan Marris.
-Investigate and identify the factory that has been set-up within their company compound southwest of Polis, David II.

Note: 2980.06.27
-Company is in possession of lostech infantry PPC/gauss rifle of some kind capable of disabling mechs in one-hit.
-They have been growing steadily in both manpower and equipment despite having bought no equipment or having external suppliers.

Note: 2980.07.20
-Samples of their lostech were acquired but they make no sense. The energy output and input makes no sense. Once disassembled, the lostech cannot be reassembled because the parts don’t make sense. This is not a matter of black boxing the technology or not understanding how they work with lostech. The parts do not match in dimension despite having disassembled mere minutes ago. The parts inside the lostech infantry PPC rifle does not output the deadly beams it’s been shown prior to acquisition, after acquisition, and before disassembly. -MI2 Agent Lywdottors
-Though Agent Lywdottors’s report needs to be cleaned up, the fact remains that the Marris Mercenaries are not in possession of lostech but impossible tech. It is highly advised that we acquire more samples to verify this. -MI2 Director *******

End of File

-VB-

A/N: I know that Elementals are a thing, but it’s the 2980’s and our Alans have no idea about this verse, so I instead used Reapers from Starcraft as my example for what it can do with jump jets rather than elementals.