1. food and drink
2. beverages
3. non alcoholic beverages
4. coffee and tea

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Chapter 9
Eaton, Isle of Skye
Lyran Alliance
14 May 3066
Arthur woke up and stretched, reaching over to the coffee pot by his bed. He poured
himself a cup and drank the hot, bitter brew. The smell woke him almost as much as the drink
itself. He stood up from his bed, rubbing the scar on his left knee from a childhood accident. It
ached slightly, something which normally happened when there was a strong chance of rain
sometime during the day. After a quick shower he changed into his field fatigues and headed for
the mess hall, breakfast was just being served. At the service counter he smiled at the Salvador’s
cook, “Morning Mr. Cook, what’s for breakfast this fine day?”
The middle-aged man gave him a steaming steel bowl of oatmeal with strawberry slices.
The bowl also had a strong scent of cinnamon, “After you guys’ last physical Dr. Frost ordered
this to everybody. I added the fruit and cinnamon to try and make it a little more… palatable.”
Taking the steel bowl and a spoon Arthur gave a curt nod, “Thanks, that’s appreciated.”
Arthur made his way to the table occupied by the other Mechwarriors, sitting next to his
lancemates. After a short silent prayer he dug into the thick, paste-like meal. He made a mental
note to give Mr. Cook a bonus on the next pay period, not many others could make something
bland like oatmeal so sweet and enjoyable. Looking around to the table at the other bowls he saw
there was also variety to Mr. Cook’s work. Kent Barlow’s had a mixture of nuts with honey.
Miriassi Kessler’s was flavored with raspberries and garnished with mint leaves. Aisa Thastus’s
had bright green kiwi slices. The ship’s cook continued to make full use of the food stuffs they
seized on their first raid on a Loyalist convoy much to the delight of the entire crew. Aisa looked
over at Arthur, wrinkling her nose, “Must you drink such foul brew every morning?”
Arthur glanced at his coffee, then at Thastus. She was still wearing a simple black tanktop with her fatigue pants, and clearly still sweating. She had just finished her rigorous morning
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exercises in the ship’s recreation center and gymnasium. Looking down at his slight paunch
Arthur decided he could use some more time there himself, “Not all of us are morning people
Thastus.”
Miriassi, between sips of her own coffee, interjected, “That is very true, but most of us
don’t need our coffee to kick us in the teeth to wake us up.”
Arthur answered, while making a look of feigned indignation, “Well excuse me Miss.
Kessler for actually enjoying the taste of coffee instead of adding a little bit to a cup of cream,
milk and sugar.”
The two shared a laugh and continued their breakfast. Aisa looked to Kent, wondering if
she should laugh as well. Barlow shrugged and downed a glass of orange juice. Arthur’s
communicator rang with an incoming call. He unclipped the device from his belt, “Yes?”
“Sir,” came the voice of one of the main ‘Mech bay techs, “There’s a Lieutenant Travis
here asking to see you, says it has to do with a contract from the Governor.”
Arthur cocked an eyebrow at this. Normally Thayer would just call Castle to work out
contract details, “Send him up to my office, I’ll see him after breakfast.”
“Sir…” the tech began with a hint of discomfort, “she is on her way up now. You were
on speaker down here.”
“Alright then, make sure to notify Castle too.” Arthur rolled his eyes and returned to his
food muttering, “Droga de língua inglêsa, não da pra saber se é homem ou mulher sem o nome
completo.”
Castle was waiting by his door when Arthur returned from the mess hall. Like her
commander she, too, was nursing a steaming coffee mug. She opened the door for her
commander and waited before following him into the office. Inside a young dark-haired woman
in the uniform of the Eaton Territorial Militia sat waiting in one of the office’s simple metal
chairs. She had rowelless spurs on her boots, indicating she had trained as a Mechwarrior in the
Davion half of the Federated Commonwealth. She snapped to attention and saluted, “Good
morning Commander Schirmer, sir.”
Arthur avoided returning the salute lest he splash his coffee on his face. Gesturing the
lieutenant and Castle to have a seat he took his own behind the desk, “Morning Lieutenant, what
does Thayer want?”
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Travis straightened herself, “The Governor requests your presence in a planning meeting
at the war room in the Gubernatorial Palace this afternoon. I’ve been instructed to escort you
back to the capital.”
Arthur checked his watch, “Do we have to go now?”
“If you wish some time to prepare you can take one hour. There is a limousine waiting at
the tarmac for you.”
“A limo? Well that’s fancy,” Arthur pointed to Castle, “May I bring my staff?”
“Staff?” Castle looked confused.
“You and Goat ora mais.” Arthur answered, then looked at Travis. The Separatist
Lieutenant nodded. Arthur stood, “Alright then I’ll get changed. Castle, go get Robinson and
meet back in the main bay, dress uniforms.”
Castle stood up and hurried out the door. Lieutenant Travis saluted again, which Arthur
now returned, and headed for the lift. Arthur opened the door to his quarters adjacent to the
office and headed for his wardrobe.
The three mercenaries arrived at the Gubernatorial Palace later that day with Lieutenant
Travis. The limousine ride was enjoyable if oddly quiet since Cynthia “Goat” Robinson dosed
off in her seat for the duration of the trip. Schirmer had to rouse her with a swift kick to shins
when they arrived. Once at the palace Lieutenant Travis guided them past several wine cellars to
the war room in the basement. They were all searched before entering, which Schirmer thought
odd since they had already left any weapons with the security staff at the front door. The guards
took Castle’s tablet, pens and any form of paper, assuring her the items would be returned at the
end of the meeting. Castle scoffed, shrugged and followed Travis and the other Dragoons into
the war room. Inside Governor Thayer stood before a projector along with a Davion Colonel.
From the look of his old Federated Suns uniform Arthur guessed he was a retired officer from
before the creation of the FedCom who had “self-reactivated” to help the Separatists. Several
other officers sat in rows of chairs facing the screen. The Governor cleared his throat,
“Afternoon ladies and gentlemen, thank you for coming on such short notice. I’ll let Colonel
Bucharde take over from here.”
The Colonel stepped forward and activated the projector, displaying several satellite
images of military bases on the screen, “Alright, the campaign against the Loyalists is nearing
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completion. We estimate that only a few hold-out bases remain in these secluded wilderness
locations. We’ll take them out with simultaneous night raids, we expect only moderate
resistance.”
Schirmer raised his hand, “Define ‘moderate’, sir.”
Colonel Bucharde nodded in acknowledgement, “We expect turret defense grids in all
target bases along with mostly vehicle and light ‘Mech forces in some bases. We’ll be
concentrating our efforts on this supply base, this helicopter factory, and a communications
depot. With these three out of the picture the remaining Loyalist forces will not be able to
continue their operations.”
Castle looked to be taking careful mental notes during the briefing. Robinson studied the
map, “So who’s attacking what sir?”
“We have you and the 1st Volunteer Skye Tankers attacking the supply base.” Bucharde
began, “The Eaton Territorial Militia 1st Company will knock out the helicopter factory while 2nd
Company eliminates the communications depot. You mercs can take whatever you like from the
supply base.”
“What’s the time frame for the attack sir?” Schirmer asked.
“Tomorrow night 2200 local time,” Bucharde answered, “your tactical officer will
receive all the information we have on the target location.”
One of the other unit commanders raised his hand, “What sort of contingencies do we
have in case of trouble?”
“If an objective proves too difficult to destroy you are to withdraw. We suspect the
Loyalists will respond in force to these raids and we’ll need all the forces we can muster to beat
back such an attack, especially if any of you fail in your objectives. If there are no more
questions you are all dismissed to go brief your commands.”
All the gathered officers stood as one to leave. Schirmer ran the mission details over in
his head, this could prove interesting. Back in the limousine he sat back in the plush seat deep in
thought. Robinson helped herself to a bottle of expensive whiskey from the mini-bar and filled
up a glass. Castle looked over the provided information for their next mission, supplementing
what she felt necessary from her memory of the briefing. Schirmer crossed his arms, staring at
the ceiling, “So what do you ladies think?”
Robinson spoke first, “Plan feels solid enough, as does the pay.”
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Castle looked over the satellite image, “This base is in one of the worst places to defend
I’ve seen in years. With our two lances and a tank company I just don’t see any way we could
fail.”
“Careful with such thoughts Helga,” Schirmer said with a snort, “overconfidence is a
good way to be massacred on the field. Remember 3050?”
“Yes sir,” Castle answered with a grimace and looked around, “any reason we haven’t
moved out yet?”
“Guess the driver is waiting for that Travis woman.” Robinson said, emptying her glass.
Schirmer tapped on the plexi-glass divider separating the passenger compartment from
the driver’s seat, “What’s the hold up?”
The driver slid down the divider and looked back, “Sorry sir, just waiting for the
lieutenant.”
Robinson grinned and poured herself another glass of the amber liquor, “Called it!”
Schirmer sighed, “Is it really necessary for her to follow us back to our own ship?”
The driver’s expression indicated he did not know the answer. Moments later Lieutenant
Travis entered the limousine and instructed the driver to move. He raised the divider and set the
long vehicle on its way back to the spaceport. Castle looked over at the Lieutenant, “Any
particular reason you need to follow us back?”
Travis looked hurt, “I was ordered to escort you and I follow my orders ma’am.”
“Well since you’re here would you care to join me for dinner when we get back to my
ship?” Schirmer said, flashing Lieutenant Travis what he felt was his best smile. Castle looked
surprised while Robinson whistled and gazed out the window.
Lieutenant Travis blushed and averted her gaze, “Commander Schirmer I…”
“Please, call me Arthur, or Specter.”
“Arthur,” the young woman gulped, “I’m not sure that is appropriate.”
“Well I don’t see why it would be inappropriate. We’re not in the same command or even
the same army and I’ve got no plans until the morning.”
The Lieutenant gripped at her knees nervously. Neither of the other women offered her
any aid. Robinson even seemed to be enjoying Travis’s awkward tension. Schirmer finally held
up both hands, “It’s OK if you don’t want to, I understand. Never was much of a ladies’ man.”
“Well, um, Arthur, sir, um, it’s just…”
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“You’re already involved with someone?” Castle broke in. Travis started to shake her
head, paused for a moment of thought, then shook her head again. Schirmer leaned forward with
a questioning look. Travis took a deep breath but still could find no words to speak. At a look
from their commander Castle and Robinson moved to sit on either side of the Separatist
Lieutenant, drawing a panicked expression to her face. Schirmer sat up, “Sorry to startle you but
it’s just a precaution. The look you had, looked like you were getting ready to combat roll out the
door.”
Travis burst into nervous giggling, “Negative sir, I just got my uniform pressed and
cleaned.”
“Alright then, if this makes you uncomfortable I’ll not press the issue.”
Travis looked relieved and was more relaxed for the remainder of the trip. As they
approached the Salvador’s landing pad Robinson looked out her window with a startled
expression, “What the hell is that?”
Three other sets of eyes looked where she was pointing. At the base of the dropship’s
loading ramp was a ‘Mech hauler with a Marauder tied down to its flat-bed. As soon as the
limousine stopped Schirmer stepped out and approached the hauler’s driver, “Can I help you?”
Before the man could respond Kent “Goblin” Barlow came running down the ramp like a
child on Christmas morning, “That’s for me! That’s for me!”
The ‘Mech hauler driver looked down at his clipboard, “You Kent Barlow?”
“Yes I am.” Kent answered. Schirmer crossed his arms and tapped his foot while the
bald-headed Mechwarrior signed for his 75 ton delivery. Kent looked sheepishly at his
commander, “Sorry sir I meant to tell you but you left for your meeting in the capital. I only used
my own money, no company funds at all.”
Schirmer looked up at the Star League era heavy battlemech, “So you’re broke now?”
“Well no,” Kent began, “I still have 10 C-Bills left.”
“Well then ain’t it great that you get your food and housing for free.” Schirmer said
sarcastically. He had to pay for all of his warriors’ and other crew’s necessities so nothing ever
felt free. Still, another heavy ‘Mech would be a great help in the upcoming mission. He directed
the ‘Mech to be taken onboard and prepared for combat. He turned to Kent, “Are you naming
it?”
The young Mechwarrior beamed, “Her name’s Maddeline.”
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