It’s a Peaceful Life (Battletech AU/SI)

[MarkWarrior]

It's a Peaceful Life

"Hey boss," I walked into the back of the small bakery, grabbing an apron from the nearby rack, slipping it over my head, and tying it around my waist. "We got any big orders today?" I pulled my time card out of the rack over the small table and slipped it into the punch machine before putting it back where it belonged.

"Doesn't look like it," Luke replied "Got those wedding cakes to finish up, but that's about it."

"You alright?" I asked the man as he leaned over the counter, a handful of expense reports laid out in front of him.

"Yeah," he rubbed at his temples. "Decided to get together with some of my old war buddies last night."

"Ahh," It clicked. "When was the last time you had a hangover?"

"'Bout fifteen years ago," he winced as I began turning on the main lights for the storefront.

"Well, I can take care of everything here if you want to head home, boss. It wouldn't be the first time I've run everything."

"I'll just get some water and file some paperwork in the office," He shook his head, straightening up and collecting the papers. "Knock and let me know if you need anything."

"Alright," I agreed, heading for the fridge and collecting pastries to set in the display case.

The old Veteran just grumbled and vanished into his office while I continued the usual jobs that needed to be done before opening the bakery for the day.

I started a pot of coffee and set it up at the beginning of the display case, before moving back through and pulling out the donuts we'd prepped and put onto the racks the night before.

I'd already lit the fryer, and after it reached temp, I began to fry the donuts before coating them in glaze and setting them out beside the coffee. A few bearclaws later, I had the morning ready and flipped the sign to open.

As was normal, when the door opened a handful of regulars entered, the bell ringing as they greeted me and moved to the coffee machine.

"Mark, you're a godsend," Alex poured a cup and collected his usual order for the office's morning breakfast run. "I don't know what blend of coffee you're using, but I'll figure it out one day."

"And start making it at home?" I scoffed. "We both know that you can't go back to that instant crap."

"You're right," he handed over a ten pound note as I rang him up. "I guess I'll just have to keep coming back here. Oh, keep the change."

He grabbed his small paper bag and left as the next few regulars entered.

Some of them sat down in the few chairs and tables we had, others simply collected their orders and left. But all of them had a story, and despite the world being one filled with dangers and the unknown, it was peaceful.

At around lunch, I flipped the sign to "Closed for Lunch" before checking on Luke in the office.

He was asleep and his snores filled the small office, so I closed the door and nodded. I'd let him sleep off the rest of his hangover in peace.

Taking off my apron, I opened up the fridge and collected my lunch. Leftovers from the day before weren't glamorous, but they were free and still tasted almost as good the next day.

I sat at the counter and flipped through the cake orders as I worked through my food. We had two wedding cakes to finish and I still had to make the icing and work on decorating what was left.

"I don't know why they picked bugmechs," I sighed as I flipped through the discussions I'd had with them. "But I guess I can somewhat see the appeal."

One couple wanted a Stinger and Wasp in the black and white of the bride and groom, another went with an Phoenix Hawk and a Warhammer.

"Alright," I put away my lunch containers and grabbed my apron again. "We'll start with the fondant and get the molds ready."

Most fondants were edible but tasted gross, they were mainly for decorative purposes and left to the side on most cakes. However, Luke and I had made a marshmallow-based version that kept its shape and tasted great. Sure, it required us to make it in house, but it was also easier to work with and saved us money overall.

Punching back in from my lunch, I flipped the sign back to "open" and began mixing together the fondant.

The rest of the day passed by quietly as I worked on the cakes, a few customers here and there, but most of our business was in the morning during rush hour traffic or the occasional foot traffic from young kids heading to and from one of their internships.
–
–


I was putting the finishing touches on the Warhammer as the bell on the door range. This cake was for a couple that was in the AFFS, and the Warhammer was her family 'Mech.

"That looks really good," someone commented as I applied a last bit of color to finish out the parade paint that had been requested.

"Thanks," I set down the frosting bag I'd been using. "Now, what can I get you?"

I turned around and smiled at the pretty brunette woman that had entered the bakery.

"What do you recommend?" She asked. "I don't usually get to spend a lot of time downtown so I figured I'd see what holes in the wall I could find."

"Well, welcome to Pixie Pastries and cakes!" I spread my arms out. "Now, given it's.." I trailed off to glance at my watch only to remember that I'd taken it off when I started mixing and baking. "Whatever time of day it is. I'd probably not recommend anything too heavy given you probably still have dinner waiting. So, I've got an assortment of cookies here, and then we've also got small cheesecake bites if you're looking for something a bit more flavorful."

"I think a cookie would be good," she pointed at one of the simple chocolate chip cookies that were in the display case.

"I'll get that rang up for you," I grabbed a fresh pair of gloves and set the cookie into a sheet of paper. "And if you want coffee to go with, there should be some still left in the pot there."

I moved to the register and rang up her purchase while she poured the last of the coffee.

"That'll be seventy-five pence," I told her.

"I should have that," she reached into her purse and pulled out a small wallet, the bills practically spilling out of it.

"You know what," I chuckled, realizing that this was probably the daughter of a wealthy businessman or something similar. "I've got it covered. Just enjoy the cookie."

"Are you sure?" she raised an eyebrow, confused.

"Yeah," I waved her off. "We might not be the most popular bakery around, but we do well enough. One cookie on the house isn't a big deal."

While she sat and enjoyed both the cookie and the coffee, I found my watch and finally figured out what time it was.

"Ma'am," I called out as I set the watch back onto its rightful place on my wrist. "I'm going to start closing up shop here, but you can stay as long as it takes you to finish."

"Oh," She looked up, her hand covering a mouthful of cookie. "Sorry, I didn't realize it was closing time."

"You're fine," I laughed. "I lost track of time while I was decorating and forgot to put the closed sign up. Just take your time."

I picked up the cake I'd been working on and moved it into the cake freezer, I didn't want all of my hard work to fall apart overnight.

Then I started packing up the display cases while the woman finished up her coffee, a handful of cookie crumbs lingering in her scarf.

"Thank you for the cookie," her eyes lingered on a white chocolate and caramel chip cookie that I was about to put away.

"Here," I handed it to her. "Have one for the road. But unfortunately, I've got to lock the front door and start counting down the till."

"Ahh," She accepted the cookie and walked to the front door. "Thank you."

And with those last words, the door shut behind her and I was left to finish closing up.

I flipped the door sign to closed and poured the rest of the coffee into a thermos, pulling the grounds and throwing them away before counting down the till and filling out the bookkeeping for the day.

"Hey Luke!" I woke him up from his long slumber. "I'm punching out for the day. Everything's closed up."

"Huh?" He blinked at me blearily until I repeated myself and set the thermos of coffee and a donut in front of him. "Oh," he glanced at the clock. "I really slept the day away, didn't I?" he laughed at himself.

"It's fine," I replied. "Just take it easy, old-timer."

"I'll do my best," he stretched and took a sip of the coffee, some of the light returning to his eyes.

"The two wedding orders are almost finished. I've just got a few finishing touches on the details and then we're golden. I also did the till for the day."

I turned to walk out before remembering something important.

"Oh, and I've got Wednesday off, remember?"

"I remember," Luke replied. "It's that time of year again, huh?"

"The years have flown by, yeah," I sighed. "See ya tomorrow, boss."

"G'night, Mark," he waved. "Go enjoy your night."

Leaving, I punched my time card again before opening the back door and climbing onto my motorcycle.

New Avalon was always a gorgeous city, but at night, the city shined like nothing else in the night sky. The glow of dropships taking off and landing from the spaceports was always a sight to behold. It made the city seem as if it were statuesque from a distance, the towering man-made monoliths rose into the sky and the shimmering lights flickered off of the battlemech-grade glass of the skyscrapers.

But I didn't live in the city, not fully anyway. I had managed to pick up this property in a foreclosure sale a year or so back, and this rundown farmhouse and property was my home.

But, even rundown as it was, I had made progress in restoring it over the last year. The once overgrown fields were now plowed and orderly, the few chicken coops and goat pens I had were positioned properly, and I had replaced the roof and fixed any structural damage to the house about six months ago.

"I should probably finish the guest bathroom today," I hopped off of the bike and grinned as the twin Australian Shepherds that managed my flock ran up and began begging for head scratches and pets.

"Good girls," I scratched them behind the ears. "Were the goats a handful today too?" I asked, getting what felt like an eye roll from Thyme, and a barking scoff from Sage.

"Oh, so you handled it," I walked onto the porch. "Good to hear."

"So," I unlocked my door and entered the living room. "What are we working on, today?"

I took stock of the supplies I'd picked up a few days ago and nodded as I shifted some of my tools. "If we work through the night, I could finish up the bathrooms and repipe the mud room," I glanced at my inventory list and added the materials I'd need for the next step to the "Needs purchasing" section. "Then we can set up to paint the guest room tomorrow. What do you think?" I asked the dogs.

"Right," I nodded when Thyme barked. "We should take our time. I still have to go to work tomorrow after all."

With that, I got to work. I had a lot to do if I wanted to restore this place to its former glory.

 

[MarkWarrior]

A few weeks went by and I carried on with the normal routine of my life as I'd found it. I woke up, took care of the farm animals, wrote out the work that needed to be done on the farmhouse for the day, and then drove into New Avalon to work at the Bakery.

However, today was my day off for the week, and after I went to church I found myself wandering around the streets of New Avalon. On Sundays mornings and early afternoons, the city seemed quiet and somber compared to its usual boisterousness.

But once Catholic Mass was over, the city would surge to life with a vengeance, the grocery stores would open up again and the people of the city returned to the usual noise and substance.

It was during the in-between time that I walked into one of the many malls that dotted the city.

"Just a cup of coffee, please," I got some of the liquid gold from one of the small cafes and took a seat in the food court. A book was in my hand and occasionally I would glance up to simply people-watch.

It was such an odd thing, I remembered how fun and important malls were when I was a kid growing up back home. But by the time I'd become an adult they'd largely fallen to the wayside in favor of businesses like Amazon or other competitors.

Here though, the culture that revolved around malls was still going strong. Groups of teenagers congregated around the arcades, families went shopping for warmer clothes before the start of winter, and people just enjoyed spending time together.

I finished my cup of coffee and the chapter in my book and stood, returning the porcelain to the cafe and tucking my book into my backpack.

Of course, it was just my luck that as I was leaving an oddly familiar face greeted me at the south entrance to the mall.

The woman I'd seen in the bakery and given some free cookies to was struggling with a rented scooter.

"Need some help there?" I asked.

"Yes, please," She replied, her heeled shoe not making contact with the kickstand with enough force to get it down.

"Here," I stretched my boot out and kicked it down.

"I know you," she grabbed the keys and tucked them into her purse. "You're that guy from the bakery!"

"That's me," I laughed. "First time riding a scooter?"

"I'm more used to motorcycles," she shrugged. "I figured I'd try something different for a change."

"I'm Mark, by the way," I stuck out my hand in greeting.

"Morgan," she replied, shaking it firmly.

"Well, it was a pleasure to run into you again," I turned and began to head for the parking lot. "I'll see you around."

I waved over my shoulder, looking out over the parking lot for where I'd left the beat-up pickup truck that I'd driven into town today.

"Wait," Morgan said.

"Yeah?" I asked.

"I'm supposed to meet some friends from NAIS here today," She said as I turned around. "But I think they got stuck in traffic. Mind hanging out with me a little bit while I wait?"

"Sure," I shrugged. "I'm not doing anything important today."

"Cool," She stepped up beside me. "Any chance you know of a good shoe store around here? I like heels, but I think I made a mistake in my choices today."

"There's a good boot store," I gestured to the worn boots on my feet. "But I don't buy shoes on the regular. I've got these, and a couple of others, that's about it."

"Boots might be better for what I'm doing today," she glanced at the strappy heels she'd put on. "Especially if we're going to be walking around all day."

"Sounds good," I agreed. "So, NAIS? Must be nice to get to work with all of the advanced tech and stuff."

"It might be if I were one of the ones working on it," Morgan chuckled and nodded in thanks as I held the door open for her. "But I'm not. I'm trying for a Poly-sci and history degree with a minor in linguistics."

"Still," I continued. "I've seen what it takes to get into NAIS. You've got to be smart and work hard. They don't take slackers."

"I mean, it's a lot of work, but the coursework isn't insurmountable," we stopped at the map and I found the boot store I'd been talking about. "You just have to know how to manage your time properly."

"I can understand that," I shrugged. "I tried college a while ago. Found it wasn't for me and went into the work force."

"Oh?" She asked. "There a reason you didn't like it?"

"Most of my professors were boring and couldn't make the material interesting," I replied. "I ended up learning more doing my own research than I was taught on the topics. Also, a friend of my family when I was growing up taught me something very important. Degrees only matter if you're planning on going into a specific job field that requires that, a doctor, engineer, etc. The rest of the information is generally available in a library somewhere and you can go educate yourself on whatever subject you please."

"It makes sense," She agreed. "But I still think there's a place for universities and colleges."

"Oh, I agree," we stepped into the boot store. "College life and classes just weren't for me. I get bored too easily."

She started browsing for a pair of boots that fit her current clothing setup and I sat down on a nearby bench and pulled out my book.

One of the good things about this universe is that Tolkien's works were still available, and on top of that, he lived long enough to publish the full Silmarillion before passing away.

"Lord of the Rings?" Morgan asked, sitting next to me and trying on one of the pairs of boots she'd grabbed.

"Kinda?" I answered, putting my bookmark back into its place. "It's more of a worldbuilding and mythology. But I love Tolkien."

"I think mom read them to us while we were growing up," Morgan stood and walked with one boot on, grimaced and pulled it off before trying another one. "But I only remember some of the key plot points."

"I've got copies of the second edition. I can loan you the set," I offered.

"Nah," she waved me off and smiled as she found a pair of boots that fit perfectly. "I'm pretty sure that we've got a set in the library at home, I'll just have to dig them out."

"Suit yourself," I shrugged.

"Let me go pay for these, and then we can go grab something to eat, I'm famished."

She walked up to the counter and paid for the boots and socks she'd selected, putting them on her feet and tossing her heels into the bag they'd given her.

"Much better for walking around than those," she said as we took the escalator down into the food court.

"Hey Morgan!" a small group of young men and women called out as they spotted her. "Over here!"

"That's my friends," we stepped off the moving steps and walked across to the table where her friends were seated. "Thanks for hanging out. I'll have to stop by the bakery sometime."

"Sure," I smiled. "I don't usually do much on Sundays. So it was good to spend some time with someone."

With that, we shook hands once again and parted ways.

You might think that I'd be more questioning of this, but the same thing had happened to me back home more times than I could count. Back in the past, I couldn't go anywhere without running into somebody I knew or had met before. It didn't matter if I were heading to somewhere states away, I always ran into somebody.

So I shrugged at the coincidence and went about my day, stopping by my usual hardware store and picking up the supplies I'd need this week before heading home and spending the rest of the day relaxing on the porch with a glass of sweet tea and a book in hand.

---

Meanwhile…

"Who was that?" Samantha asked Morgan.

"A guy I met at the bakery the other day," she replied. "He was kind and seemed kinda lonely. Also, he was making a really good looking cake."

"Boring," Katherine called out, cupping her hands around her mouth to make it echo a bit. "Sure, he's kinda cute, but you're way outta his league, girl. Did you see his clothes?"

"It was jeans and a polo," Samantha retorted. "Half the guys around here are wearing the same thing or worse.

"It was fun," Morgan shrugged. "We had a good conversation and learnt a little bit about each other. I wouldn't say we're friends, but acquaintances are a word for a reason."

"Whatever," Katherine changed the subject. "What's the plan for the day?"

"I figured we'd wander around and see what catches our interest," Morgan intentionally cut off whatever Katherine was about to suggest. "No bars though," she glared at Samantha. "I'm tired of having to drag the two of you back onto campus after a night of partying."

"Fine," Samantha sighed. "What do you guys want to do?" She raised her voice to where the boys of the group were gathered and huddling together.

"There's a new Zombie Kerensky versus Ghost Amaris movie out," Edward shrugged. "We were hoping to check out out."

"And I need to get some stuff from the bookstore," Mason offered. "Turns out I missed a required book for my humanities course and all of the copies are checked out of the campus library."

"Alright, so as long as we do those two things and get back before curfew we're golden," Katherine grinned.

"Just let me grab a bite to eat first," Morgan said, standing up from her chair. "I don't want my lunch to be replaced with popcorn. Sure, it tastes good, but it's not very filling."

So the group had lunch and then began to wander the mall, the conversation flowed easily and they went from store to store, oftentimes not buying anything but simply looking at what was available.

Unfortunately, their movie turned out to be sold out for the showtimes they had time for so they changed courses to the bookstore.

"Alright," Mason looked through the sections. "I'm going to see if they have a copy of the textbook I need. We can meet back up here in about thirty minutes."

"Sounds good," the group agreed, dispersing to various sections and enjoying the quiet atmosphere and smell of books.

Morgan found herself just meandering through the fiction sections before pausing as her eyes crossed over the 'Fantasy' section and the recommended book choices.

"Huh," she laughed as she saw an entire hardcover selection of the Lord of the Rings novels. "I might as well have something to talk about aside from school when I drop by the bakery."

Grabbing the collection, she found one of the chairs and opened the Hobbit, finding herself drawn into the pages and story until long after she was supposed to rejoin her friends.

Standing, she put the book back into the collection and purchased it, the paper bag weighing heavily in her arms as she walked back to the parking lot and her scooter. Thankfully, the rented scooter had a small saddlebag and she put her few purchases in it before kicking the kickstand back and heading back towards the campus. She wouldn't be breaking curfew, but it would be a bit closer than security would probably like.

"Cutting it close, aren't we?" Samantha asked once she walked back into the dorm.

"Sorry," Morgan apologized. "Got lost in a book."

"Meh," Samantha laughed. "I don't really care, I'm just giving you a hard time."

With that, the two roommates went through the nightly routine before turning in. After all, classes resumed on Monday, and even the students that liked to let loose a bit on weekends knew to keep it down when the engineering students might start yet another prank war over losing sleep.

"Night, Sam," Morgan called out. "Don't forget to wake up on time, we have that test tomorrow."

"Shit," Sam swore and flipped a small light on. "I forgot to study for that."

Grabbing her books and the study guide, the other woman went into the office area and began pouring over her material.

Getting up, Morgan turned off the light and pulled the covers back over herself. It had been a good day.

 

[MarkWarrior]

The next day had me back at the Bakery, Luke lived in an apartment nearby and had already begun setting up shop when I clocked in.

"Hey Luke!" I called in as I put my time card back in its slot.

"Morning," he acknowledged. "Can you get the fryer started? I've already started getting the other pastries set up."

"Sure thing," I tied off my apron and lit the fryer, tending to a few other jobs while it rose to temp.

"How's the farm coming along?" He asked as I walked back and forth to grab the donuts and glaze.

"Well, I finally finished up the bathrooms and the plumbing issues in the kitchen," I tossed some donuts in the fryer and waited for them to float to the top a little bit, testing them with a long two-pronged fork before picking them up and sliding them into the glaze container. "I'm about to pull up the flooring in the dining room and redo it with that tile pattern you showed me the other day."

"The one that looks like hardwood? Or the brick?" He asked.

"The hardwood," I brought out the first batch of donuts and slid them into the display case. "I checked out the subflooring, and there's one or two spots I'll have to fix, but I think it'll be an easier job than the upstairs rooms."

"Probably," the old veteran agreed. "How're the dogs?"

"Happy as ever," I grinned. "I'm sorry you couldn't keep them in the apartment, but they're the biggest helpers I could have asked for."

"Bah," he waved me off and went to start the coffee. "We didn't have the space for all the dogs. Better they go to a good home."

"You should bring the grandkids around for a visit sometime," I hefted a sack of flour and started the mixer to begin making fresh dough for some of the pastries. "They loved riding around on the tractor last time."

"You just want the free labor," Luke chuckled. "You can't fool me," he finished up the opening duties and flipped the sign over. "But they love it for some reason."

"It's 'cause it's different," I checked to see if we had any cake orders left on the answering machine, winding the tape back and finding nothing. "They're used to city life, so the farm seems exciting to them. It's not every day like it is for me, or it used to be for you."

"I guess," he grunted as Alex walked through the door.

"Morning, Luke!" Alex smiled. "Mark, I'm going to need a large order today, got a meeting and I told them I'd bring breakfast."

"What do you need and when do you need it by?" I asked.

"How long will it take to get two dozen fresh plain glazed done?"

"'Bout two to three minutes per dozen," I glanced at Luke who nodded. "I'll go ahead and start on that."

I walked to the fryer and tossed in another batch of donuts, moving them from the fryer to the glazing box and then into a cardboard holder as I finished up.

"Alright," I finished up the first box and set them on the display case. "I'll finish up that second batch."

"You guys are life savers," Alex said as he paid for the donuts and his usual pastry. "Thanks for the help."

"You got it," Luke replied, the regular waving his cup of coffee at us as he opened the door and began the trek to his office.

"So, anything fun happen this weekend?" I asked Luke.

"That buddy I went drinking with a few weeks back," he tapped his fingers on the glass. "Well, he opened up a gun store on Friday."

"Oh?" I raised an eyebrow. "Anything interesting up for grabs?"

"He's got a Mauser 960 in "Good" condition," Luke offered. "If I didn't have to convince the wife, I'd have already bought it."

"Got the address?" I asked. "I might swing by and check it out. Especially if he's got the spare ammo to go with it."

"You sure it won't set back your farm?" Luke asked.

"I've got some fun money that I've been tucking away," I shrugged. "It's been a while since I bought a new gun anyway. Might as well expand the collection a bit."

"It's your budget," Luke laughed. "Now, if you've got the front, I'll start prepping some cakes. We're coming up on spring, and I'd rather be prepped now than later."

"Right," I nodded. "Lots of weddings, birthdays, and other stuff to get ready. Should I go ahead and place an order for extra supplies?"

"Yeah," Luke nodded. "Double the usual should see us through at least the 15th. We can reevaluate stock on the tenth and place another order then."

A few regulars came in, purchased their usual orders, and left. Then, around lunch, the bell rang to signal the door opening. A small group of NAIS students entered, and the noise level in our small shop grew.

"That test sucked," one of the women complained. "I stayed up all night studying."

"Hey, Mark," a familiar voice caught my attention.
"Morgan," I realized who it was. "I didn't expect to see you again so soon."

"Well, I liked the goods and coffee here so much that my friends decided they had to try it too," She sighed. "But I forgot they can be a bit loud."

"It's alright," I shrugged. "Luke's half-deaf, and I grew up the oldest of fourteen."

"I heard that!" Luke's voice rang through the shop.

"That's because I wasn't quiet about it, old man!" I jeered at my friend.

"Shut up and get to work," he retorted.

"Sure thing," I laughed. "Now, what can I get y'all?"

"Wait, hold up," Morgan held up her hand. "We're not moving on from what you just said. Oldest of fourteen?!"

The rest of her group looked as interested as she did in the story.

"Your parents need a new hobby," one of them commented.

"They'd rather enjoy their current one," I laughed at the blushes of some of them. "And they seem to be pretty good at it."

"Fair enough," Morgan looked sheepish. "I've got a handful of siblings myself."

"Anyway," I tried to steer everything back to why they'd come to the bakery. "What can I get y'all?

"I'll take a white chocolate caramel cookie," Morgan smiled, pulling the exact change out of her purse plus a two-pound note. "And I'll pay for the first two cookies too."

"Coming right up," I said, packaging the cookie up and running the till, handing it over to her before she walked over and poured a cup of coffee.

"Your coffee is divine," the woman who'd been complaining about her test said as she stepped forward. "I'll have a red velvet cake donut."

"Hey Luke! Can I get a Red Velvet heated up?"

"On it!" he yelled back. "ETA is thirty seconds!"

"That'll be a pound," I charged her. "Cake donuts are harder to make and take more time, so there's a bit of an upcharge."

"I'm an economics major," She replied. "Perfectly understandable."

Once they had all rotated through, they sat down at the few tables and the room grew quiet as they savored the sweet treats and the coffee.

"You know you could take your lunch and spend some time with them," Luke said in a low voice once he left the back.

"Nah," I shook my head. "I'm good."

"Mark, this is the first time I've ever seen you speak to a woman in the three years you've worked for me other than small talk."

"She's just an acquaintance, Luke," I replied. "I don't want to pressure anyone into doing something. Especially with all the work I have going on."

"I'm just saying that this might be your chance to make some friends that aren't twice your age," Luke sighed.

The NAIS students talked quietly and finished up. The majority of them leaving after they were finished, their tables left clean or cleaner than they'd been when they arrived.

"Thanks for the food," Morgan smiled. "Any chance I can grab another cookie for the road?"

"Sure. Same one, or something different?"

"Just a regular chocolate chip," she handed over the pence. "Be seeing you around, Mark."

"There went your chance," Luke shook his head at me. "You should have at least asked her out."

"To do what, exactly?" I replied. "I bake and take care of my farm. Occasionally, when I have the time, I head out to the range and get some time in. I don't have hobbies or anything that people will find interesting. It's not like I'm some hotshot Mechwarrior like she probably sees all the time at NAIS. And that's all before getting to the root of the problem."

"You've got to move on, Mark. It's been three years. They're gone, and you and I both know there's no way back. So, try and live a little, man."

"Fine," I sighed. "If Morgan comes back next week, I'll at least see if she's interested in going out. You happy now?"

"I'm just looking out for ya," Luke smirked. "Besides, I have a feeling that there's more than meets the eye with that one."

He turned away with a mischievous smirk on his face.

"Sure, whatever you say, old man," I shrugged and went back to work, putting the entire experience behind me for the day.

–
–

So, of course, the rest of the week passed by as usual. No interruptions by NAIS students, nothing out of the ordinary, until I got a letter in the mail from a name I hadn't seen in over a year.

I had forgotten about the yearly debrief and was now going to have to deal with it here at my home instead of at the usual MIIO Safe House.

"Well, shit," I swore. "Guess that's just motivation to finish up this floor now. I should probably call Luke and tell him I won't be in next week."

 

[MarkWarrior]

Unfortunately, while the motivation to finish up the floors before being paid a visit by the local spooks was present, the ability was sorely lacking. So when the doorbell rang, I was still placing tile and working on the grout.

"Coming!" I called towards the front door as I stumbled upright and walked over. "John," I nodded at the familiar MIIO agent's face.

"Mark," He walked in as I opened the door. "It seems I caught you at a bad time," he eyed the mostly done floors in the house.

"Until I'm completely finished with the renovations, it's never really going to be a good time," I shrugged. "So, can I get you something, water? Coffee?"

"You're going to want to put a pot on," he replied. "Anyway, it seems you're doing well for yourself, the farm certainly looks better now than it did on last year's satellite photos."

"We don't have to do this song and dance, y'know," I turned the coffee pot on and leaned against the counter. "We both hate the small talk, we could just start with the eval."

"I can't do that, Mark," John shook his head and chuckled. "We both know that I'm supposed to do the full psychiatric workup."

"Fine," I sighed.

"So, the farm looks nice compared to last year," he started again, a small notepad on the counter.

"It is better," I nodded. "Ended up getting a pretty decent tractor at the open auction about seven-eight months back. Cleared out all of the underbrush and trees, planted some good grass, and finished fixing the fence. Plan's to let the goats and sheep rotate through to the northeast pasture next season while I plant in the one they're in currently."

"I already know how the bakery is going," John wrote something down. "Luke might be retired, but he still makes his quarterly reports. Now, I've got to go through some questions for an analyst before we start getting into the meat of everything."

"Nevermind," he opened the folder to read some of the questions before grimacing and closing it. "These must have been written by people who haven't read your file. So I'm going to ignore them."

"Now, it's evident that you're making progress on moving on with your life," John gestured to the property around us. "But I think you're still struggling with some of the family you left behind."

"John," I crossed my arms. "Stop talking like I'm some sort of war victim or something. I wasn't kidnapped, my family isn't dead, there wasn't anything tragic like that. I'm still not quite familiar with whatever bullshit y'all were experimenting with over there in NAIS, but stuff happens. I don't blame your scientists, or any of you for pushing the boundaries. I've had three years to come to grips with everything. Bringing up the past isn't going to help me figure out the future."

"Well," John closed all of his documents and clasped his hands in front of him. "You're not wrong, but that doesn't mean that you've entirely moved past the trauma of being ripped from your reality and forced into this one. You're doing well in surviving, but life is more than just surviving. You've made great strides in the last year, and I think that you're headed in the right direction."

"I'm content with where I'm at," I replied. "I'm not exactly walking around without a purpose," I pointed out the window to the farm animals. "I don't need to be wealthy or stomp around in a battlemech to enjoy life or have meaning. Anything beyond what I have now would be wasted on me."

I stopped leaning on the counter and poured us both the coffee that was now ready.

"I'm not fully past everything," I sipped my coffee. "But grief isn't something that gets resolved all at once. The different stages come and go at different times, and despite what people try to tell you, they're nonlinear. I'll probably rotate through them for a while yet. But for the most part, I'm happy here. I have what I need."

"Honestly," John laughed wryly. "I wish most of the people I evaluate were more like you and Luke."

"Luke's a special case for someone who did wetworks," I shrugged. "I don't know everything that he did, but I can pick up enough clues to understand that his family was what kept him grounded. His wife being willing to remain through the good and the bad is probably what saved him from being another statistic."

"Well," John stood from his chair. "My report's pretty much going to be the same as the last one. So, with business done, mind showing me around the place? There's only so much you can get from a report and the photos in a file."

"Sure," I finished my coffee and set the cup down in the sink. "Where do you want to start?"

---

Report: 15075
Subject: Three Tango Delta

Date: March 5, 3049
Reporting Agent: Johnathon "John" Casey

Subject Three Tango Delta (From here referred to as the subject) has made exceedingly good progress in being integrated into everyday life here in the Inner Sphere. Upon recommendations from Agency psychologists and other peers we have slowly transitioned to yearly meetings and evaluations in the last two years.

Agent Baker 's reports continue to indicate that the subject retained little to no memory of the enhanced interrogation techniques that were performed during the aftermath of the initial dimensional transport.

The cover story we have utilized for his integration is holding strong and seems to stand up under scrutiny by all but other Agency resources. Further examination of mental and health status shows nothing but positive results over the last year.

It is this agent's recommendation that we shift resources away from monitoring the subject as he has not demonstrated a clear and present danger to the Federated Commonwealth nor any of its citizens. Furthermore, this agent suggests the routine evaluations be shifted to three years instead of every year barring extreme changes or shifts in behavior.

In conclusion; Subject Three Tango Delta is no longer relevant nor in need of monitoring for fear of Agency policy or interrogation techniques being leaked to the public. Recommend all agency assets be reassigned to pursuing other leads at this time.

---

"That lass dropped by while you were out," Luke offered as I finished punching in and tying on my apron.

"Oh?" I raised an eyebrow.

"Said she finished the books," Luke shrugged. "Whatever that means."

"Huh," I started getting things ready for opening. "I didn't expect her to actually take the recommendation."

"What series did you tell her to read?" Luke asked.

"Lord of the Rings," I replied. "She was looking a bit lost, and I was reading the Silmarillion."

"Solid choice," Luke acknowledged. "But why that specifically?"

"Sometimes, there needs to be a reminder that there's light in the world even amidst the darkness," I shrugged. "We need our heroes to be better than us, to have something to strive for and live towards. Virtue isn't attained overnight, but seeing people who are heroic, even if only in fiction is something that we need. The stories that need to be told, and shared."

"Aye," Luke agreed. "Heroes are important."

With that, the small bakery fell silent as we went through the usual steps, flipping the sign to 'open' and waiting for the usual morning crowd to come in and collect their breakfast.

"Hello," I answered the phone right before the lunch rush. "Yes, we can do custom orders for cakes and pastries," I grabbed my notepad. "Yes, ma'am, there is a thirty pound surcharge for rush orders. But the usual pricing is dependent on the complexity and size of the cake. If you come into our storefront I can show you the catalog of our previous cakes. No, ma'am," I replied. "Does four work for you? Alright, I'll see you then."

I hung up the phone with a click and looked over the notes before tearing the page off and tacking it onto our board in the "Potential orders" section.

"So, got another cake order?" A voice startled me out of the preplanning I'd been going through in my head.

"Sorry," She laughed. "I thought you'd heard the bell."

Morgan was dressed in a casual set of jeans, the pair of boots she'd bought at the mall and a light jacket.

"I probably did," I replied. "I was lost in thought and missed it."

"I stopped by last week," She held up a copy of the Hobbit. "I wanted to ask some questions about your thoughts on this. But you were out."

"Yeah," I sighed. "I had a small situation come up, not an emergency, but it did require some time off."

"Perfectly understandable," She nodded.

"So, you wanted to talk about the Hobbit?" I asked.

"I did," She took a seat. "I haven't sat and enjoyed a work of fiction in a while, I'm usually absorbed in different history and political analysis that I don't have time for fiction. But I made an exception for this and I think I'll finish the rest of the series. But most of my friends are too busy studying to sit and talk about a book that was written over a thousand years ago."

"Books and stories are important," I replied as my mind went back to my childhood of reading everything I could get my hands on. "So, what were your thoughts on the Hobbit?"

"It seems a bit fantastical, and fatalistic," She said after a minute of collecting her thoughts. "I mean, almost all of the Dwarves die in the end, and Thorin and most of his kin die achieving their goal. I just don't know why it was written that way. Wouldn't it have been better if they'd succeeded without dying?"

"So, Tolkien is writing about something that's very real in our world. There are many places in history where people set out to do virtuous and good things that allowed their pride to take hold of them as they came close to succeeding in their goal," I sighed. "While the world would have seemed a brighter place if all of the dwarves had lived, Tolkien understands something about life and literature that's made clear here. Our actions, and the actions of others always have consequences. Thorin's words to Bilbo at the end are what sums up a large part of The Hobbit and the world of Middle Earth as a whole. "If more of us valued food and cheer and song above hoarded gold, it would be a merrier world.""

"I suppose Thorin did manage to succeed in the end," Morgan leaned back in her chair. "You've thought about this a lot. I can tell."

"If a story is worth being told, then it's worth being read and looked over," I replied.

"Well, if you have any other recommendations after I finish this series, let me know. I enjoy talks like this," She stood and made her way to the display case. "Now, I think I'll grab something for the road and head back out."

---

"So, I see you went back to the bakery," Samantha looked at the box of treats Morgan had brought back and shared with their dorm. "You sure you're not interested in this guy?"

"Not in the way you're thinking," Morgan rolled her eyes. "He's just fun to talk to, and there aren't any strings attached in his conversations. He's so far divorced from anything to do with all of the nobility and other crap around here that it makes for a nice change of pace."

"I guess I can see the appeal," Samantha grabbed a donut and chewed it thoughtfully. "I approve as long as we keep getting sweets out of the deal."

"Not all the time," Morgan replied. "But I'll see what I can do. Now, what'd you do for the homework assignment?"

"Which one?"

"The one due next Tuesday."

"Oh, I went over the Amaris Coup. But we were given a broad time period to use. I have all of my sources in my notes if you want to check any of them out."

"Thanks," Morgan grabbed the notebook and started skimming it. "I'll borrow this and have it back to you tomorrow."

"You already paid me in food," Sam waved her off. "Just wake me up from my food coma if you need anything else."

 

[MarkWarrior]

"Are you sure you want to keep the fireplace?" the specialist I'd hired sighed at the sight of the brown brick. "I could get you an electric heater or something here on the cheap."

"I want the fireplace," I shook my head. "It might not be as efficient, but I like it, and let's be honest," I gestured to the rest of the house. "An electric or gas wouldn't quite fit the aesthetic I've set up here."

"Fine," he sighed. "But you know that the restoration on that's gonna cost a bit extra, right? Only a few guys know how to rework that metal, and most of them got snatched up years ago for different contracts."

"I'm not worried about the cost," I replied. "It's the last bit of decor in the house I need to finish up aside from the trim."

"Alright," he agreed. "I'll have some guys out here next week to start pulling it for the rework. You gotta time that works well for you?"

"Bakery's closed next Monday," I offered. "I'll be spending the whole day on the farm if that works for y'all."

"I can make that work," he nodded, chewing on the end of a pen before penciling in a date. "We can have the permits pulled by then and have everything ready."

"Thanks, Fred," I shook his hand. "I know it's short notice, but I appreciate it."

"You owe me one," he chuckled. "It looks really good in here, nothing like you showed me when you said you were buying a foreclosure."

"I had a bit of help clearing out all the junk left behind," I shrugged. "Small church groups found a use for most of it."

"Good on them," he turned and looked at the rest of the living room. "So, what kind of trim are you thinking?"

"Well, I'm a sucker for white crown molding for the ceilings normally," I replied. "But it wouldn't fit with the rest of what I've got going here. So I'm thinkin' of a stained hardwood that matches the doorways for the floor trim and a slightly lighter shade of stain for the crown molding."

"I can see how that'd look good," he stroked his graying goatee. "Still planning on sticking with your plans on the Tri-Vid?"

"I don't need that sort of entertainment in my life," I replied. "There's enough to do around here that if I get bored, I'll just take my rifle or rod and go hunting or fishing."

"I guess," He shrugged. "I'm not much for that, but everyone's got their hobbies."

"Anyway," He collected his gear. "I'm gonna head on out. Let me know if there's anything else you need 'fore next Monday."

"I should be good," I clapped him on the back and walked him out to his car. "See you at church on Sunday."

"See ya then," He climbed into his work truck and cranked it up, the internal combustion engine roaring for a minute before leveling out.

"Almost done with the house," I grinned as I walked back inside. "Trim, some stain, and some paint is all that's left."

In keeping with the rustic look of the original photos I'd seen of the farmhouse, I'd done most of the house in hardwoods and hidden reinforced concrete on the exterior and load bearing walls. I'd done away with the wood paneling that had been there before and slowly replaced it with planked walls a slightly different shade than the floors. The furnishings were some sort of metal that resembled brass but was stronger and retained its luster better for longer.

I'd also found some old cast iron elements from various estate sales and yard sales over the years, from old fireplace pokers, to pots and pans, and even an ancient wagon wheel somewhere. I'd put them all in the barn for now, but when I was finished with the house I was planning to hang them up as decoration along the high walls and arches of the main rooms.

But, that was for another day. I still had to move the animals over to the next pasture and start prepping for the rains to come in a few weeks.

---

"So, what do you do when you're not at the bakery?" Morgan asked a couple of days later, her textbooks scattered around on the table she'd claimed as her own. Samantha across from her drooling over her own books.

"Oh," I looked up from the cake I was decorating and pulled my tongue back into my mouth. "I'm restoring an old house in the countryside. I bought it in a foreclosure auction about a year ago, and have been slowly working on it."

"That sounds both boring and interesting at the same time," Morgan commented, her green eyes sharpening as she hastily turned and scribbled down the answer to one of the problems she'd been working on.

"It's different, I'll agree," I shrugged and turned back to the cake. "But the farmhouse itself is almost done. And I have no clue what I'm going to do with all of my free time when I'm finished up."

"You could try hanging out with us," she gestured to the sleeping Samantha. "I know Katherine can be a bit off putting, but she's not so bad once she warms up."

"I think I'd feel a bit out of place," I began to work on the red roses the client had requested to be along the edge of the wedding cake.

"Maybe," she sighed. "Or, I can try to see if we can get you temporary access to the unclassified sections of campus for a day. I can give you an… admittedly limited tour."

"It's fine," I laughed. "If you and your group were being intrusive and blocking up business, Luke would've already thrown y'all out."

I leaned over the counter and stage whispered.

"I think he likes having a bunch of younger folks around, it makes his bones feel less old."

"I'm not deaf yet, you little jackass," Luke pulled me into a headlock. "Is this man bothering you, miss? I can make sure that he's thrown out."

"No," Morgan laughed. "He's doing a decent job at decorating that cake, there. He must have learned a thing or two from a master."

"I wish I could take credit for it," Luke let go of me after knuckling my head a bit. "But we were both hopeless at the cakes when we started."

"That first six months was awful," I shuddered. "Thankfully, Luke's wife had a friend who used to do this sort of thing come by and teach us."

"She also labeled all of the different shades of colors we use," Luke agreed. "Turns out that we were both hopeless on that front."

"Red is red," I stated. "Until it's not red and is another color."

"Seriously though," Morgan returned to the original subject. "Give me a call and I'll see if we can't work out a time for you to get access to the campus. You could at least see the library there."

"Sure," I agreed.

"The dorms have a specific number and operator," Morgan scribbled it down on a piece of paper. "You'll have to ask to be transferred to our dorm room when you do call."

"Got it," I tucked the paper into my pocket. "I might take you up on that someday."

Then a little crank timer that Samantha had set went off and shook the sleeping student awake. Her head raising blearily as she rubbed sleep from her eyes.

"Shit," Samantha swore. "Why'd you wake me up, Morgan?"

"I didn't," Morgan tapped the small timer. "You're the one that set the timer."

"Why'd you let me do something stupid like that?" Sam tucked her head back into her elbow. "You're supposed to be the limiter for stupid ideas in our group."

"Long week?" I asked.

"Midterms," Morgan sighed. "Some of us stress more about our tests than others, and she's been surviving off of caffeine and anxiety for the last few days."

---

"So, what's your plan for spring break?" Samantha asked their group as they gathered in their dorm's common room.

"The whole family's supposed to be getting back together this year," Morgan smiled. "It's been a while since we've been able to do that."

"Must be nice," Katherine grumbled. "I've got to head on back home and straighten out the family finances again. Somehow my dolt of a brother thinks that the budgets are a suggestion instead of the limitations they're supposed to be."

"Good luck with that," Edward sighed. "I'm stuck on campus, I almost bombed my theory finals and now I've got to do some extra credit to show I understand the material."

"I'm just going to sleep for a week," Mason shrugged. "Kinda hard to get back home in a week."

"If I didn't have so much studying to do for the last bit of the semester, I'd probably join you in sleeping the week away," Sam glared at her notebook. "I should have taken your advice and not tried to slack off in that first week."

"This isn't exactly the sort of place where we can coast by," Morgan agreed.

"Well, I'm tired," Katherine yawned. "I'll see you guys next week."

She stumbled off towards her dorm room, leaving the rest of the group behind.

"Anyone up for pool?" Edward jutted his chin towards the empty table. "A pound per hole?" (Author's note: it's really hard to write that sentence without laughing.)

"Sure," Sam's eyes darted towards Morgan's and she winked. "I've never played before, maybe you can show me how it's done."

Morgan just rolled her eyes and let Samantha begin her deception, knowing that Edward was just another victim to the pool shark.

"I'm gonna go get some sleep too, have a good night guys," Morgan stood and collected her bag before walking upstairs to her dorm. Unlocking the door and standing in shock after opening it.

"Daddy!" She ran up and threw her arms around his neck.

"Hey," her father smiled, his big frame pulling her tight and squeezing in a bear hug.

Morgan pulled back and gestured for him to sit down. Had the gray around his temples always been that shade?"

"I thought you and mom were going to show up together," Morgan couldn't keep the smile from her face. "I know you're always busy."

"I wanted to surprise you," he sat down on Samantha's bed. "Also, it's a bit easier to go around incognito when there's only one of us."

His blue eyes twinkled.

"Now, you got anything to pack?" He asked. "Or can we just go?"

"I've got one or two things to grab," Morgan ducked into her closet and grabbed a few things before tucking them into her bag. "Oh, and we need to swing by the dorm fridge on our way out. I had something made for you and mom."

---

Report: 14901
Subject: Hotel Papa Lima experiment three

Date: January 3, 3046
Reporting Agent: Luke "Baker" Hill

The past two hyperpulse generator experiments were complete failures. Neither I nor the scientists assigned to the tests for experiment there expected anything different.

While we have an understanding of the science and the practical affects of Redacted, turning that into a new field of study is the work of decades, if not centuries of work.

The first two tests produced nothing but carbon buildup and odd silicon compounds. But this one was exceptional, the protective shielding nearly failed and the burst of radiation terminated the prototype and nearly destroyed all of the sensors and other equipment.

Examination of the chamber after experiment 3 revealed shocking results.

Where before had been a small pile of carbon and silicon, instead there was a human being.

The scientists responsible for the previous tests had severe reactions to this, the leading scientist positing that the first two tests had simply terminated the previous two subjects before fully materializing them.

Once this agent had realized that we were compromised, he took immediate action to secure the facility and detain the individual in question.

The senior agent in charge of the facility authorized immediate shut down and removal of the experiments and any evidence of the facility ever having existed.

It is highly recommended by Agent Baker that all attending scientists be observed for any leaks of the experiment in question. It is also recommended that each individual in question be reassigned to different projects moving forward.

Continuation of report on next page….

 

[MarkWarrior]

Chapter 6

Morgan ordering a cake differed from our usual meetings, but I was happy to do it all the same. I still missed my family, and making a gift for her to take to hers would at least do something to fill the void there.

The odd thing was the request for the toppers. Usually, for family reunions or similar events, we try to use the year and date or something unique to the family.

So, the request for two battlemechs with particular and detailed parade colors came out of the left field for me. But she was a friend, and if that meant something to her or her family, then that's what I'd make.

So I went to work, putting the usual amount of detail and effort into all the cakes I made, and had it ready a couple of hours before the scheduled pick-up time. The fine details on the pain jobs were always the hardest to do well on 'Mechs. And when someone requested me to simulate a bit of battle damage, it was all the more complicated.

"Hey, Mark!" Morgan walked in, the bell ringing behind her. "Is the cake ready? Can I see it?"

"It's finished," I turned and walked to the fridge, pulling it out and setting it down on the cake stand. "If there's anything, anything at all that needs to be fixed on it, let me know now."

"It looks fantastic," she spun the circular cake around, looking at the simulated battlefield I'd set up, the two 'Mechs fighting against an invisible enemy off the side of the cake. "What do I owe you, and are there refrigeration instructions?"

"That'll be sixty pounds," I worked the till, watching to see if she caught the slight deception.

"Nice try," She smirked at me. "I'm onto you, and I don't need a friends and family discount."

"Fine," I laughed. "It was worth a shot. That'll be one hundred and fifty pounds," I changed the numbers to match the actual costs we charged for cakes like this.

"That's what I thought," She reached in and pulled out two hundred pound notes. "Keep the change and use it to buy a camera or something. I want to see the farmhouse you talk about so much."

"I'll see what I can do," I chuckled and began placing the cake in the refrigerated box we used for orders like this. "Now, we recommend keeping it refrigerated until about thirty minutes before serving. Cold and sweets can cause pain to sensitive teeth, and we want people to enjoy our cakes and then return to buy more of them."

I finished my typical spiel to customers about the cakes before shaking my head and picking up the box.

"I hope you brought a car, though," I glanced at the cake. "Because I don't think you're getting this back to NAIS on a bike or a scooter."

"Edward's authorized to bring his car through the checkpoints," Morgan pointed to the car waiting in the small parking lot. "He agreed to help me with this as long as I gave him coffee and sugar."

"Works for me," I shrugged, helping load the cake into the car. "See ya around, Edward, Morgan."

"Thank you," Morgan surprised me by pulling me in for a short side hug.

"Anytime," I watched as she got into the car, and they headed towards campus.

---

"It looks so good I'm almost scared to try eating it," Morgan's father exchanged glances with her mother. "The details on the 'Mechs is perfect."

"Sure, but this looks more like a large laser housing rather than a PPC's," Morgan's younger brother complained. "And the missile launcher has the missile shield down already as if it's getting ready to fire."

"Ignore him," Morgan's mother smiled. "He's just being a boy. You remember what your older brother was like at that age."

"It's fine," Morgan laughed. "I'm sure Mark would probably just agree and work on fixing some of his molds for next time."

"Mark?" Morgan's mother mouthed to her husband, who just shrugged in response, a small hand gesture indicating they'd talk later.

"Yeah," Morgan began, cutting the cake and handing slices out to her siblings and parents. "He's this guy who works at a bakery near campus. I accidentally stumbled into it near closing one night. Over the last few months, we've become friends. We mostly just talk about reading, though."

After that conversation, the family took their first bites of cake, intending to start eating but instead falling silent.

"That's some good cake," Morgan's father sipped at the coffee he'd had beside his plate. "Not quite as good as what some of the staff makes, but it's pretty close."

"Agreed," her mother dabbed a bit of frosting off her lips. "I didn't know you could make fondant that tasted good, though."

"According to Mark, it's harder to work with Marshmallow Fondant," Morgan shrugged. "I don't know what he means, but it tastes good."

"And that's all that matters," Morgan's youngest brother said, the ten-year-old face covered in multicolored frosting.

"You might want to do something about your face there," the fifteen-year-old pointed out to Arthur.

"My face?" Arthur licked around his lips and discovered the frosting. "MMM, frosting!"

"We should take a picture and ensure it gets to Victor," Morgan smiled. "Show him what he missed out on this year."

"That sounds like a great idea," Melissa Steiner-Davion agreed. "But you might want to hold off on that until after you've taken the disguise off, Katherine. Green and brown aren't a bad look for you, but I much prefer the blond and blue."



Author's Note: This is a twist and take on an idea that Cyclone raised on a Discord server that we're both on. I'll add that there's more than one twist coming up. And I also had to change one, maybe two dates around.

 

[MarkWarrior]

"Hanse, I think it's time we had that talk," Melissa stepped into her husband's office.

"Her security detail's reports weren't anything out of the ordinary," Hanse held up a thick stack of reports. "Placing her in the same group as Katherine Green-Davion was a genius move and deflected most of the interest away from our Kat."

"So, the question becomes," Melissa took a seat. "Just who is it that she's become friends with, and are they a threat?"

"I've already called the head of her detail," Hanse replied. "He's supposed to be meeting with us tomorrow morning. But from what I can tell, skimming the initial reports, that it's exactly what it looks like on the surface."

"Things are so much easier with Victor," Melissa sighed. "Everyone he interacts with at the Nagelring has already passed more than a basic background check."

"We gave our children options," Hanse shrugged. "With those options come consequences. Not good or bad, it just is."

Hanse stood and moved to the nearby sofa, spreading his arms and allowing his wife to snuggle into his side.

"I missed you," Melissa exhaled, tension leaving her that she didn't know was present. "I missed this."

"With privilege and rank come responsibilities," Hanse tucked his chin onto her head and closed his eyes. "Unfortunately, none of our children are ready to take up our mantles yet. So we have to endure."

With that, he went silent, and the two rulers of the Federated Commonwealth enjoyed the first private and personal moment they'd had together in almost two years.

—
—

"Edward Rogers," Hanse looked at the young MIIO agent. "We've been over your reports and have a few questions."

"I'm prepared to answer any questions you have, Sir and Ma'am," the young man added.

"I understand that most of the last two years have been uneventful. But in the last eight months, there has been a change. Particularly revolving around this bakery. Pixie Pastries and Cakes."

"Yes, sir, the location was cleared in advance, and when I attempted to retrieve records that detailed the security measures in place, I was blocked because I did not have the required access. When I reported this to my supervisor, he advised that I drop the subject and continue with my primary objective."

"Thank you, Agent. You're dismissed," Melissa spoke up.

"Something about this reminds me of something," Hanse knuckled his forehead. "I had a report come across my desk."

Melissa, familiar with how her husband organized things in order of priorities, leaned over his shoulder and helped him find what he was looking for.

"Aha!" Hanse grabbed the folder. "This was it."

"Experiment Hotel Papa Lima," Melissa read aloud. "Wasn't that the failed HPG and Black Box experiments?"

"Yes, it was," Hanse opened it and began skimming. "So you remember why we closed it?"

"Something about transdimensional teleportation?" Melissa arched an eyebrow.

"That, and the prototype fried itself," Hanse found what he was looking for. "The teleportation wasn't the project's intended goal, and when we investigated the results, we closed off that avenue of research due to the associated risks. But the last test produced him."

Hanse showed Melissa the report and photo of a partially clothed man.

"MIIO conducted a full enhanced interrogation on him," Melissa recalled. "That was the last I'd heard of it."

"After trying to verify the tiny pieces of intelligence he provided, we conducted a risk analysis and found his to be minimal. The leading MIIO agent supplied a manufactured identity, and he's been assimilating ever since."

"So it's a coincidence that Katherine ran into him," Melissa concluded, reviewing the reports. "And a psychological profile was conducted within the last few weeks, interesting."

"We can bring him in," Hanse shrugged. "Give him a bit of a talk."

"No," Melissa shook her head. "We'll go to him. It doesn't look like there's a need for anything as major as bringing him into the Mountain."

---

Business had slowed down during spring break. Students and many of our other regulars were on vacation or out of town on business.

This is to say that when Luke's grandkids walked in with the Battletech equivalent of Nerf guns, we quickly transformed the bakery into a Warzone.

"Private Donut, you've got to go scout," Alvin, Luke's grandson, ordered.

"That's suicide," I peeked my head over and ducked down as a foam dart narrowly missed me. "General, there are snipers all over the area."

"It's okay," the six-year-old smiled, the missing two front teeth feeling menacing for some reason. "You'll be a good shield."

"Yes sir," I mock saluted and chambered a dart into my pistol. "Private Donut lays down his life for the cause."

Standing, I turned and deliberately misaimed my blaster to just over the twin's heads.

I heard giggles as their darts hit my chest, and I pretended to stumble back, falling to my knees and then to the ground.

"General," I wheezed, trying to keep a straight face. "Avenge me, blegh."

I died and allowed my eyelids to close just enough to take dying but still see what was happening.

"Private Donut!" Alvin yelled and stood, his "minigun" cranking out darts with the small battery pack. "No!"

The twins rushed out of their own cover, and the firefight drew to a close because we all ran out of ammo.

Then, the front bells rang as the door opened.

"Is this a bad time?" A pretty brunette and what looked like her husband were looking at the chaos.

"Sorry about that," I stood, wiped off the dust, and flipped most of the lights back on. "This is usually a pretty slow week, and Luke's grandkids dropped by for a visit."

I quickly set the tables back up and seated the trio of troublemakers down with some sweets. (They weren't my kids; I didn't have to deal with the sugar rush later.)

"Now, what can I get y'all?"

"Our daughter has been talking about this place, and we enjoyed the cake," the woman said, looking at the display case. "And my husband here had some advice on the details of your mech molds."

"You must be Morgan's parents," I extended my hand. "She's been coming here pretty regularly. I think it's because it's a quiet place to study, and I offer a different perspective sometimes."

"Adriaan," Morgan's father matched my firm handshake. "And Arturia, here is my wife."

"So, we've got coffee and sweets," I gestured to the display cases. "If you're looking for cakes, we typically only do custom jobs."

"How much for a dozen chocolate chip cookies?" Adriaan asked. "I'd like to see how they compare to my great-aunts."

"Five pounds," I replied. "We also sell the dough by the tub if you want to bake them at home."

"Don't tempt me," Artruria poured herself a cup of our coffee. "I only wanted pickles and cookie dough during the last pregnancy."

I collected the cookies, threw a sampling of the other kinds we made into the box, and closed it up before ringing them up.

"Here you go," Adriaan passed me a ten-pound note and waited for his change. "Now that the obligatory business is done, would you mind taking a walk with me?"

"Hey, Luke!" I went and knocked on the office door. "I'm gonna have to take my break."

Luke and his son stood and looked outside at the counter for a minute before Luke nodded and stood, an odd look on his face.

"I'll hold the fort down," Luke grabbed his apron and tied it. "Just be careful."

With that, he went out and greeted Arturia. He nodded at me as Adriaan and I walked out the back door.

"Subject Three Delta Zero," the First Prince's voice broke the tense silence. "That's all that you were in the reports I read."

The older man turned and looked me in the eye.

"But, the problem with reports, files, and documents is that they don't give a full picture of something or someone. Because Subject Three Delta is a designation, not a name. Mark Smith, your original first and the last name that was assigned to you paints a better picture but still isn't accurate. My intelligence agents are very good at picking up details about people. Do you know what they found the more they watched you over the last few years?"

"No," my voice broke a bit.

"They found a man," Hanse shrugged. "Just a man, as ordinary as any of us. If not for your chance meeting with Kat, you'd have been left alone for the remainder of your days."

Hanse Davion's voice was heavy with an emotion I couldn't place. But my heart was still in my stomach, and I realized I'd somehow offended the most powerful people in the Inner Sphere.

The silence grew as we walked, and I started to put the pieces together.

"Sir," I raised my voice. "I never intended to-. "

"Calm down and listen," Hanse's voice rang with authority, and I snapped my mouth shut. "There is a difference between a spy growing close to someone to gather intelligence and someone becoming friends naturally. Despite thousands of years of spy craft, deep cover, and other assets still have the hardest tasks. You won't be dragged away, and we're not throwing you back into a hole."

Hanse's stern face cracked a bit.

"Despite the father in me wanting to throw you into said hole for even trying to be friends with my daughter," he laughed a bit. "Katherine has never been one to reach out and become friends with anyone. She's too keen and politically minded for that. She knows the dangers of people growing close and trying to use her."

An odd look covered his face.

"You, conversely, are placed as far away from politics as possible. Keep it that way, and we shouldn't have to have any discussions ever again."

"Yes, sir," I swallowed. "I'll do my best."

Hanse then switched effortlessly to casual conversation as we returned to the bakery.

"You see, PPCs will probably more closely resemble an autocannon on your molds, just add some couplings and most people won't know the difference."

We reentered the bakery and Hanse and the woman I now identified as Melissa thanked us for the coffee and cookies before leaving.

"Take the rest of the day off," Luke put his hand on my shoulder. "I think you need it."

With shaking hands, I tucked things into my backpack and tried to climb onto my bike before failing.

So I took a deep breath, walked out front, and hailed a cab. I wasn't in any state to ride back to the farm on my motorcycle, and I could just load it up onto the truck tomorrow.

"Where to?" The driver asked.

I rattled off the address, and he winced.

"It's about an hour's drive. You sure you wanna have to pay that fare?"

"I'll pay it," I replied, forcing my hands to grab my thighs to steady them. "I'm not in any state to drive at the moment."

"Smarter than most," the cabbie shrugged, heading towards the city's outskirts.

The driver put on some music, and I did my best to process everything on the long drive home.

I paid the driver and walked back into my house, where I slung my bag onto a stool and opened a cabinet.

Grabbing a box of matches and a cigar, I sat on the front porch and allowed the nicotine to calm me down.

I had just met the First Prince of the Federated Suns and was somehow friends with his oldest daughter.

So much for this being a peaceful life.

 

[MarkWarrior]

The funny thing about living on and restoring a farm, is that the animals don't care about new revelations or information. So, when the twins ran up to my bed and woke me up for the morning chores, I simply groaned and sat up, stroking Sage's ears while her sister pawed the bowl at the foot of the bed.

"Just gimme a minute, Thyme," I stretched and stood, sliding my feet into the old shoes I kept by my bed. "I'll feed you and get started on the rest of the animals."

I opened a plastic bin and separated out the twins' food, grabbing the shirt I'd thrown at the foot of the bed when undressing last night and pulling it over my bare torso.

"Coffee first," I ground the beans and poured the now fine blend into the filter on my coffee pot, hitting the switch and starting the process while I pulled on a slightly warmer set of clothes to ward off the early morning spring chill.

Once the coffee had finished brewing, I poured the liquid gold into a thermos, and stepped outside onto the front porch. The cows were bellowing at me as I descended the stairs, their moos and hoof stamps greeting me as they impatiently waited for their food to arrive.

I scooped the food into the cow's respective buckets and triple-checked the amount of food in each before setting the buckets down on the side of the fence for them to reach and get to.

But the cows weren't the only animals I had to take care of here. The Chickens were easy, I collected the eggs, checked on their feed, and moved on. The two horses were fine as long as I remembered to muck out their stalls and replace their salt-licks every couple of days. The sheep, however, were the most involved population of animals that I had on the farm.

I had to make sure that their coats weren't tangled up in brush or debris, that the oil I put on their heads worked to eliminate the bugs that bothered them, and that they had just enough pasture to roam on, without getting lost.

"Sage, Thyme!" I whistled for them. The two Australian Shepherds moved quickly and hedged the dozen sheep into a corner of the pen.

I went over the sheep, doing quick passes over them with a comb and detangling their wool as well as looking for any signs of injuries.

"You two got them for the rest of the day?" I glanced over at Sage and Thyme, their fluffy tails wagging fiercely and they barked in response.

"Sounds good," I whistled and gave the command for them to release the ship back into the remainder of the pasture.

Sage pulled back, allowing the sheep to "escape" from one side before moving to flank them and follow to the green slopes and grass on the other side of a small hill.

The problem was, now that the chores were done, I was left alone with my thoughts. I mulled it over as I cooked breakfast, breaking the problem down to its most basic root.

"Was I willing to lose a friend over this?" was what it boiled down to, I realized as I robotically ate the bacon and finished off my coffee.

That question played out in my mind for the entire drive back into the city, and was still plaguing me when I pulled into the back parking lot of the bakery and turned off my truck.

Was I willing to lose a friend over this situation? I didn't have many friends, and the friendship I'd formed with 'Morgan' hadn't involved anything in her normal life at all. We'd discussed everything but present-day politics and the royal family.

I just wasn't sure, I realized as I walked in and went through the motions of punching in with my time card. I tied my apron and began working through the opening duties.

"Are you okay?" Luke asked, stepping in the middle of my path.

"Yeah," I lied and tried to push through.

"Bullshit," Luke glared at me. "Truth, now."

"I'm still processing everything," I shrugged. "I wasn't expecting to get blindsided by the First Prince and Archon of the Federated Commonwealth. Right now, I just need something to do, and I don't need to be by myself."

"Alright," Luke nodded. "Look, if you need me to do anything to help make this right, I'll help out, and I'll even see what favors I can call if you need it."

"I think I'll be fine," I replied. "Just need some time to figure everything out.

–
–

Of course, I still hadn't made a decision a few days later. I was locked into my own head and second-guessing everything when the front door to the bakery rang.

"Hey," Morgan greeted me, a sheepish smile on her face. "I guess the Kat's out of the bag now."

"I'd say," I laughed a bit. "What do I even call you now?"

"Well," Katherine Morgan Steiner-Davion took a seat at one of the tables and gestured for me to do the same. "Most of my close friends and family call me Kat or Katherine. When I'm surrounded by the usual NAIS crowd, I have to go by Morgan."

"Am I a close friend?" I asked, taking the seat across from her. "I don't even really know where we stand."

"I didn't lie," Katherine replied. "My middle name is Morgan, I am going to NAIS for the degrees that I told you about, and pretty much everything else we talked about regarding family and friends, books, history. All of that was true. I still consider you a close friend. I guess it's up to you if you want to change things."

"I don't know," I sighed. "If I'm completely honest, I'm not even really upset at you. I'm more upset at myself for being bothered about this. I'm not even fully an open book myself."

"Dad let me read the reports," Katherine nodded. "So, how about we start over again."

"Alright," I agreed and stuck out my hand. "I'm Mark Smith, transdimensional accident, baker, and farmer."

"And I'm Katherine Morgan Steiner-Davion," she matched my handshake. "Spare of the Federated Commonwealth."

 

[MarkWarrior]

As the weeks and months passed, spring gradually turned into summer, and life continued as usual. I finished the house remodeling, tended to the animals, and started on my next project.

The stables weren't in terrible condition, but some sections had taken damage from the elements. Either because they weren't built correctly or hadn't been painted with the same weather-resistant paint as the other parts.

So, the plan was to replace the damaged sections with new boards and panels and then repaint the entire barn a shade of light brown.

My hope and prayer was that it would be easier and take less time than remodeling the house. But, as with all projects, always expect it to take more time and cost more money than you plan for.

–
–

"You've got to actually show me the farm someday," Katherine relaxed at the bakery table. "Some pictures, a painting, something that will do more to show me the difference than you just talking about it."

"I've got the pictures from when the house was foreclosed on," I replied, taking my attention off the cake I was decorating for a minute. "But I haven't taken any pictures of the house since I finished the remodels yet."

"Look," Katherine said after a minute. "I'm about to graduate from NAIS with my four-year degrees. I'm supposed to transfer over to Tharkad U for the rest of my studies. How about you just show me the farm in person before I leave."

"Alright," I shrugged. "I'll warn you, though, it takes some time to get used to the smell in some parts. Chickens don't really care about how they smell."

I paused in what I was doing before continuing my thoughts.

"You should probably bring some of your friends along, too. Avoid the appearance of anything improper."

"I'm pretty sure that my security detail would be coming with me," Katherine rolled her eyes at me. "The only reason they're not in here is that somehow your boss qualifies as part of a security detail on his own."

"I haven't asked what he did in the past," I spun the cake around and continued dotting it with the tiny flowers requested for this baby shower. "Because I'm pretty sure that I don't want to know. Anyone who's as well adjusted as he is to all of this is someone who was at peace with everything he did, and that's a scary thing."

"I guess," Katherine shrugged. "I'm a bit more read into things than you are. So, I don't quite understand that sentiment.

"Look," I set down my tools and focused on my friend. "I'm pretty content with where I'm at in life. I've got a good job here that provides for my needs. I have enough property to have a large family and raise them to understand my lifestyle growing up. I enjoy my life. I don't need to stomp around in a battlemech or storm a beach as a poor bloody infantry. If I'm called to serve in a draft or felt it necessary, I would sign up and serve to the best of my abilities. But for now, I think I'll just enjoy the life I've been given."

"I'm ambitious," Katherine admitted. "But I mainly want to live up to Mom, Dad, and my namesake. God knows that Victor's head is too full of 'mechs, girls, and combat right now."

"He's a young man," I shrugged. "He's spent his entire life thinking that he needs to be the next Ian Davion or Morgan Kell without realizing that it's Hanse he should be looking to emulate."

–
–

---

LIC Report: 17655014KH

Subject: Two Kilo Hotel Romeo

Date: September 16, 3049

Reporting Agent: REDACTED

Subjects Kilo Hotel has encountered enemy forces designated X-Ray one in the Oberon Confederation and has retreated in good order. Casualties were kept to a minimum, and VIPs have been secured for evaluation back to Commonwealth space. All salvage from the enemy forces has been secured and will be transported on a separate dropship to Redacted for study.

This agent believes that the Oberon Confederation will not be a short-term stopgap for X-Ray and that further preparations should be made to defend against them.

Regarding Kilo Hotel Casualties, most of their 'mechs could not be recovered, but all, barring one of their pilots, were recovered before the hasty retreat and evacuation.

Subject Papa Kilo is in the medical suite of the dropship and is unavailable for questions involving any intelligence regarding X-Ray. The commanding officer of Two Kilo Hotel has submitted his full report, attached to this agent's report.

Further analysis and intelligence will be transmitted via Pony Express systems, which the LIC has put in place to provide early warning of periphery attackers and pirates.

Once Kilo Hotel has made landfall, more reports will be sent.

Agent Redacted.

"Karl, please tell me that this report isn't accurate," Melissa glanced up from the desk her parents had built and left in the Archon's office.

"I'm afraid it is, ma'am," the Chancellor of LIC sighed. "Thankfully, MIIO had just enough intelligence for us to insert agents into every mercenary group along the periphery. While terminating the captured Kell Hounds Mechwarrior was harsh, preserving any intelligence against the X-Rays was necessary. Thankfully, our agent performed well enough to drag Phelan Kell back onto the dropship before it took off."

"We'll get with Uncle Morgan and see about replacing Phelan's Wolfhound," Melissa flipped through the rest of the reports. "Once the 2nd Kell Hounds reach Commonwealth space, I want full intelligence and enemy force workups done. MIIO didn't have anything beyond the potential of an invasion this year. Now that they've been proven right, I'll need to see if Hanse has anything else to reinforce this data.

"Any information on these unknowns will be helpful," Karl agreed. "I have deep cover agents with Black Boxes in place for Somerset and other sites that may be used as an enemy staging ground should it come to that."

"Are we assuming that they have no knowledge of Black Boxes?" Melissa asked. "That led us to disaster in '39."

"Without HPGs of our own, they're our best bet at sending and receiving any intelligence with enough time to give us any help," Karl replied. "Even as limited as they are, at this point, I consider it a potentially acceptable loss if the Combine also has this intelligence."

"I hope you're right," Melissa sighed again. "Because the last thing we need is for a two-front war."

"If it comes to that, ma'am, I'll be the first to step into a 'Mech and face off the combine," Karl smiled. "Also, we have listed the recommendations for what LIC and MIIO agree should be done with your children."

"Katherine should begin transit to Tharkad in the next few weeks," Melissa flipped to the correct page. "The Federated Suns won't like our heir and spare attending Nagelring for their military education. They'll take it as an insult."

"We've accounted for that as well," Karl tapped a part of the page. "But you and the First Prince may discard anything that you believe will bring harm to the Federated Commonwealth."


"I'll go over it with Hanse, and we'll make a decision soon," Melissa said, looking at a map of the Federated Commonwealth on her wall. "Victor is stationed on Trell. See if we can divert the 2nd Kell Hounds there as a fallback point. I'll personally see to it that their contract is bought out if they take an issue with it."

"I'll get it done, ma'am," Karl stood, grabbed his briefcase, and made to leave,

"And Karl," Melissa said one last time. "Send a message to Morgan Hasek-Davion. I think he will want to be closer to where the next war will be fought."

 

[MarkWarrior]

Dear Mom,

By the time this reaches you, I'll already be on a dropship headed for Tharkad. This letter was written using the cipher you taught Victor and I. (I never forgot it). I hope you'll have considered some of the points I brought up and will consider implementing them. But if not, I'll be close enough for you to hear my reasoning in person instead of communicating through letters and the occasional HPG call.

I still am uncertain why you and Dad want me to attend the Nagelring instead of having me attend a military academy that would be more apt to bring the Federated Suns and Lyran Commonwealth together instead of broadening the gap. But I'll do my best to make this work.

In other news.

I finally managed to talk Mark into taking me to his farm! I've been cooped up in NAIS or Avalon City for so long that I had forgotten how nice the countryside looks and feels. The fresh air was lovely (even if the chicken, cow, and horse shit smelled awful.).


I've attached Mark's before photos of the farmhouse and the after pictures I took with his permission. I never realized how much a rustic and antique look appealed to me until I saw it. When I take possession of Sarna, I think I'll try to replicate it and capture that look for my house.

When I get back, you and I will have to ride in the gardens on Tharkad again. I had forgotten how relaxing it is to ride a horse, and I remembered how much fun you and I used to have. I know that I'll be pretty isolated in the 'Ring, but my hope is that we'll be able to spend some time together before I start the process.

Regardless, I'm looking forward to being able to spend time with the family again.

Your daughter,

Katherine

 

[MarkWarrior]

ROM Report: Project Charlie Kilo Sierra Delta

Date: February 17, 3033

Subject Alpha's DNA samples could not be obtained due to extreme security measures taken by the Wolf's Dragoons. Subject Bravo's were more accessible, but we only managed to acquire and preserve enough for the bare minimum of OPERATION: INSTABILITY to be attempted.

Agents are transporting the sample to Black Site Echo: Foxtrot. Once the assets arrive, complete duplication procedures will begin.

Subject Bravo will likely be better for OPERATION: INSTABILITY's success than Subject Alpha. Memory implantation will begin once the duplicate reaches 14-17. Planning will be done regarding the proper time to abduct and swap the Duplicate for Subject Bravo.

The report details the security increases for Black Site: Echo Foxtrot….


Date: June 9, 3042

The Duplicate of Subject Bravo is a near-perfect clone. Aside from minor cellular damage (which has been corrected where necessary), our clone will be ready for memory implantation within the recommended period.

This Agent recommends waiting until the swap and mental degradation of the duplicate can avoid notice just long enough for us to apply INSTABILITY. Due to the information collected through our assistance for DOPPELGANGER, we now know the length of time we can sustain and use implanted memories before the subject begins to break down.

The complex changes to the brain are simply not sustainable for long-term use and will lead to a complete mental break within five years of implantation, as other test subjects have proven.

Even if the duplicate lives long enough for her to complete the whole OPERATION: INSTABILITY and beyond, we must rely on something other than potential assistance past the five-year mark.

All experts at Black Site: Echo Foxtrot recommend that we begin memory implantation of the duplicate no later than 3048 and attempt to swap Subject Bravo no later than 3050 to gain as much benefit as possible during said time.

Date: October 5, 3045

The duplicate has aged up to compare to Subject Bravo, artificial growth hormones, and any errors introduced can be passed off as medical anomalies. The Duplicate appears to be the same age and physical structure as Subject Bravo. We will carefully monitor further growth to ensure that minor differences can be accounted for within regular human error. The appropriate chemicals will be prepared in two years for memory implantation, and agents are being recalled from both New Avalon and Tharkad to supply the information necessary for the implants.

Date: December 5, 3048

Memory implantation has begun, and the duplicate will be ready for swap next year. May God have mercy on us for the harm we are about to do…

 

[MarkWarrior]

Of course, the trip to my farm wasn't just about me showing her the work I'd done. So, after the tour and watching her take pictures to show the 'before' and 'after', we ended up on the front porch, Sage and Thyme at our feet while she vented.

"I don't understand why they want me to attend the Nagelring over a Federated Suns Military academy. I mean, Peter already intends to follow in Victor's footsteps and is trying to get good enough grades to attend the academy early. I might not be the most military-minded of my siblings, but I do understand the politics. If all three of the oldest attend military academies in the Lyran portion of the Federated Commonwealth, then it's apparent favoritism. If I go to NAMA or the military branch of NAIS on top of my current degrees, we're bringing the two together more instead of separating them."

She sighed, her chair rocking back and forth while Sage enjoyed the scratches behind her ears.

"I'm just confused. Maybe Dad or Mom are seeing something I'm not, but it doesn't make sense!"

"So," I sipped my glass of sweet tea. "Do you want me to actually talk through it with you? Do you want potential solutions? Or do you just need an outlet?"

"I don't know," she stopped rocking and let Sage jump into her lap. "I feel like I'm just now figuring everything out, and then the rug gets pulled out from underneath me."

"I get that," I laughed. "More than I think anyone else does."

"Right," Kat nodded, finding the right spot on Sage to make her start sticking her tongue out. "So, what do I do? How do I move on from here?"

"Well," I looked out over the farm. "I don't think the Federated Suns crowd really cares what military academy you or your siblings attend as long as one of you attends a military academy on this side of the 'Sphere. But I'm also not as tied into everything as you are. I mean, I don't even have a Tri-Vid out here."

I paused and exhaled, collecting the rest of my thoughts before continuing.

"To be honest, I think that you attending a military academy and diving into logistics or something similar will only help you as you go through life. If Victor ends up biting the dust for any reason, you need enough of a background to know whether your advisors are bullshitting you or not. But, if you want to fight your parents on where they send you, that's your business. I don't think my input matters much to the First Prince or the Archon."

"Fair," Kat agreed. "I suppose it's a little unreasonable to dump all of this on you."

"Nah," I shook my head. "If I were only a friend when it benefited me, I wouldn't be a friend. Good friends stick with you through thick and thin."

The sun began to dip down below the horizon as our conversation drifted to lighter topics, only really drawing to a close as Kat yawned.

"I probably should be getting back to the Mountain," she stood, hugging her arms tightly around herself as a breeze blew through the porch. "I leave for Tharkad in two days, and I've got to sort everything I'm bringing."

"Probably a good idea," I stood as well. "Any chance I can get a mailing address? I'd like to stay in touch."

"Sure," Kat followed me into the house and wrote down what I would need to send a letter to Tharkad. "Keep it secret."

"Keep it safe," I finished the quote with a smile. "I'll see you around, Kat."

I went for a handshake and was surprised by a hug as the young woman squeezed tight.

"You're a good friend," she whispered.

I returned the hug and gently squeezed until she let go.

"I'll see you when I see you," she kissed me on the cheek and left me stunned as the front door opened and shut behind her.

"Huh," I touched my cheek. "That wasn't what I expected."

I walked out the front door and waved goodbye, her car heading down the long road back to the city. But my thoughts remained on what had just happened for the remainder of the night.

---

I didn't write that letter for about a week or so. I didn't know what to say, and I didn't even know how to begin. So, I went through my usual routine before writing the letter and sending it to Tharkad.

"She move on?" Luke asked while we were opening one day.

"I don't know," I shrugged. "She's headed to Tharkad. But you're probably more in the know than I am."

"She'll be back, or she won't," Luke said, flipping the sign on the door to open. You can try to stay in touch, but communication takes both parties."

"I know," I replied. "I've sent a few letters, but they'll probably arrive before she does."

"I wouldn't count on it," Luke snorted. "I've worked with the postal service before. They're not the fastest on the planet. Much less the whole Inner Sphere."

"Then I better get used to waiting," I chuckled. "Because I don't think I'm moving to Tharkad anytime soon."

"I dunno," Luke stroked his chin in thought. "Tharkad's cold for most of the year. A bakery could do really well there."

"Tempting," I snarked. "But I think I'm set here. "

"Anyway," Luke changed the subject. "My buddy said you ended up picking up that Mauser."

"Sure did," I grinned. "If she weren't so heavy, she'd be perfect. I did have to go in and clean off some of the focusing lenses, but aside from that, I'd have said that she wasn't just in 'good' condition but excellent."

"I'll have to stop by and shoot it some time," Luke matched my grin.

"I'm on your buddy's list if anything else interesting comes in," I started tallying up the last few cake orders and adding them to our calendar. "I hope to add to my 20th and 21st Century collection."

"I'm probably one of the only people in the 'Sphere that would understand your obsession with those," Luke snorted. "I like the way they look, but there are much better options in this day and age."

"I'll outshoot you with my older guns any day, any time," I called him out. "You don't even know how to handle recoil properly, you laser-focused jackass."

"They're the superior weapon," Luke smirked. "Just because you like projectiles better doesn't mean I'm worse."

"No," I laughed. "It just makes me more of a Patriot than you. Where is your pride? Your love for autocannons?"

"I'm not a Mechwarrior. Your point is invalid."

"I think you're lying about that," I raised an eyebrow. "But I have no way to prove it."

"And that's how it will remain for the rest of eternity," Luke winked. "Now get to work. Those cakes won't decorate themselves."

"Sure, boss," I rolled my eyes. "Whatever you say, old man," I muttered the last bit.

"I heard that!" Luke called out. "I may be old, but I still ain't deaf!"

With that, Luke and I settled back into our routine. Life returned to normal, except for me now sending letters to Tharkad once a week to try and keep Kat in the loop on how things were going on New Avalon.

 

[MarkWarrior]

The usual route from New Avalon to Tharkad took around one hundred and ninety days. If your jumpship possessed a lithium-fusion battery, you could cut that time almost in half. If, by chance, you were rotating from jumpship to jumpship via a command circuit, you could make the trip in a month.

I wrote my letters, not expecting Katherine to use a command circuit, though the few letters I did receive from her were sent while she was along her route.

After her jump to Rigil Kentares, the letters stopped arriving. It was as if the constant stream of correspondence had suddenly halted. After examining the dates on the letters, I noted that all of them lined up with the time it would have taken for her to transit with a lithium-battery-capable Jumpship.

"Hey, Luke, take a look at this," I put the envelopes for the letters with the dates in the order I'd received them on the desk in the small office,

"Gimme a minute," he grabbed his glasses and leaned over, examining the letters. "Nah, nothing out of the ordinary there. The transit around Terra often gets the busiest. And letters get lost all the time, only to appear years after they were supposed to arrive. I wouldn't attribute this to anything other than the incompetence of the mailmen and women."

"Why the hatred for the mail carriers?" I asked.

"I'm used to a certain level of efficiency and responsibility," Luke replied, taking off his reading glasses. "The postal service not only lacks the former but never takes responsibility for their own errors. If anyone in intelligence or the military tried that, we would be cashiered out and left with nothing to our name. Instead, the Postal Service gets a helpful and cheerful thank you when your package arrives on time. And isn't penalized for running late."

"Aren't they also having to work with Jumpships and everything else?" I raised an eyebrow.

"I just don't like the postal service," he sighed. "A delayed letter can be a much bigger problem than you'd think."

"Fair enough," I replied. "I just figured I'd get your opinion on these dates. It just felt a bit off."

"Never attribute to malice that which you can attribute to stupidity and sheer incompetence," Luke chuckled. "Idiots exist everywhere. You just have to learn to deal with them."

---

"Luke!" the man stood at the table and embraced the old veteran. "You old dog, how are you?"

"I'm good now that I'm retired, Joe," Luke replied with a wry grin. "What's it like being chained to a desk?"

"Pay's better," Josiah shrugged. "And my knees are much happier with me now that I don't do the crazy shit anymore."

"Fair," Luke laughed. "I have the grandkids to keep me young. Well, that and the bakery.'

"Still can't believe that you retired to do that," Joe shook his head before pausing as a waitress walked by and asked for their order. "Yeah, I'll take the prime rib, medium rare, and the house vegetables for the sides."

"I'll have the salmon, rice, and grilled red peppers," Luke said, allowing her to collect their menus and leave.

"I'll get those put in for you," the waitress replied, then disappeared into a side door.

"So, you don't normally request meetings outside our usual nights out," Joe sipped his red wine. "What's the favor you're about to ask?"

"I want you to take a look at the postal service."

"Goddammit," Josiah swore. "I swear that your vendetta against them has got to end before I lose my everloving mind."

"Hear me out," Luke replied calmly. "I'm not asking for a look into the entirety of the service or what mail's being read this time. I just want you to look into tracking down a friend's mail. See if it got intercepted by MIIO or something. I don't need or want the actual letters. I just want to know if they're being intercepted or not."

"That, I can do," Joe calmed down a bit. "Is this about Three Tango Delta and the Royal?"

"Yeah," Luke sighed. "The kid's not acting worried about it, but it's been six months since he got a letter, and my gut says that there's something else wrong with this beyond just the postal service being assholes like they normally are."

"They're only assholes to you, Luke," Joe laughed. "They don't hate the rest of us. It's just you. That said, if you've got a gut feeling about something, I can at least take a more in-depth look at things."

"That's all I wanted," Luke replied, lifting his water to his lips. "So, how's the wife?"

"Upset that I still can't talk about what I did," Joe sighed. "She seems to have this impression that I always risked my life. I don't know how to tell her I'm an analyst who worked more directly in the field. That's it."

"Might be worth seeing if you can get her clearance, like I did for Cheryl," Luke offered. "Keeping secrets just makes relationships hard. I know that if I hadn't done that for my marriage early on, it'd have wrecked us."

"I guess it's worth a shot," Joe took another sip. "I just never thought I'd need to, y'know? For most of our lives together, it wasn't a big deal that I was in Intel. Now that I'm working a desk instead of being in the field, she's acting all paranoid and worried that some sort of ISF or MASK agent is going to show up and try to kill us."

"Then I'd put in that authorization request if I were you," Luke chuckled. "And soon, before your old lady decides that the "Capellans are at the door" and does something crazy."

"I'll do that and start looking into the mail for the period, of?" Joe raised an eyebrow.

"I'll write it down for you,' Luke grabbed a notepad and pen from his shirt pocket. "It's a three-month focus, so it shouldn't be too difficult."

"I'll tell them you requested it, and the paperwork guys will be all over it," Joe laughed. "For some reason, they think your vendetta against the postal guys is funny."

"Uhuh," Luke crossed his arms across his chest. "They just understand why I have issues with them."

"Sure," Joe snarked as the waitress returned with the food. "You're just the crazy one around here."

"Sometimes, I think I'm the only sane one around," Luke retorted. "Now, how're things at the agency? I'm not asking for anything classified, but did the old broad drop dead yet?"

"Not yet," Joe looked around. "But don't let her hear you call her that. She'll pull you back in just to yell at you."

"She can try," Luke chuckled. "I ain't going back in, and I'll let her and Cheryl fight over it if she tried. I might even be able to sell tickets…."