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Description
Galatea City
Galatea, Former Prefecture VIII
Republic Territories
3 September 3136

From the outside, the Tharonja’s Galatea City lacked a lot of the frills usually associated with the franchise. It was an odd touch for the largest restaurant in the chain, especially on Galatea where it had all started. The exterior lacked any of the usual affectations of the more extravagant branches; no cheerful feathered serpents, no tiki masks, no plastic palm trees, nothing. Rather, like the rest of Galatea City, it was a bland, concrete shell designed for durability and ease of repair.

The Interior was another story, one that amused Juanita Kwan as she took her seat. The owners of the store had decided to compensate for the drab exterior and gone into overkill to do such. The result was a cluttered schizophrenic mess, combining the usual kitsch with walls of photos of various Thraonja’s branches from across the sphere, including some of those long-gone.

She’d been staring at some photos of the various previous Galatean offices as she’d been figuring what to say to her contact. The progression in and of itself was interesting, watching the transformation from simple diner to massive faux-temple monstrosity, and enough to allow her mind to wander rather then focus on what she really wanted to say.

“Good to see you, Jay.” The man effortlessly slid into his seat, his casual suit and slick ponytail a stark contrast to the garish clutter around him.

“And you too, Ponytail.” She simply shot back.

“I’m really, really glad you could make it.” He nodded. “Look, I know it’s been a while, but I have something for you.”

“Forget it.” She simply shot back. “I’m done, Ponytail. It’s over. Finished.”

To his credit, Antonin didn’t miss a beat. “Not willing to hear me out?”

“Nope.” She shot back with a smirk. “I’ve got what I want, Ponytail. Now don’t get me wrong; I’m glad that you helped me get there, but the point is now that I don’t really have any need for your games – or any interest in risking what I got for them.” Her smirk turned into a consolidatory smile.

He shrugged. “So you have what you want. Good for you.”

“I’m a MechWarrior. What more is there?”

Now Ponytail smiled. “See, that’s the big thing, Jay.” He explained. “You’re a MechWarrior now. That’s nice and all, but that’s also a degraded title and you know it.” There was no anger, no malice, nothing in his voice beyond a simple statement of facts. “Between new production, recommissioning, salvage and so on, there are more ‘Mechs active now then there were back in ’32 when we met. And more ‘Mechs means more MechWarriors to operate them.”

He gave a small nod. “Fact is, what you worked so hard for is no longer the privilege or the power it once was. Now anyone can be a MechWarrior, and there will be more and more doing such.”

She gave a small growl. Well played. It was the one thing she had, her pride in being herself, of doing what she wanted and being the best. And knowing that she’d gone from ‘privileged elite’ to ‘everyman’ stung hard, even if it was a fact that she’d been gradually more and more aware of. Kicking it in my face like that means I can’t ignore it.

“You got me.” There was the smallest hint of defeat in her tone. “So what do you want, Ponytail, and what am I getting?”

Antonin’s grin was brief but broad, clearly aware that she had the reaction he’d expected. “I’ve been tracking a large number of Mercs going into this one employer.” He explained. “Many of them are going through dummy accounts, fake names, shells... all that sort of thing, but there’s a definite pattern emerging. And that’s enough to worry me.”

“Precedent?”

“Something like this happened before, albeit on a much larger scale. There was another group who hired a lot of mercs through dummies and proxies.”

“Who was that?”

“A bunch of guys in robes.” He stated. “In the mid-late 3060s.”

“Ok, I can see your concern.” She leaned in. “So what do you want me to do?”

“Simple.” He smiled. “Join them. Get in there, find out what’s going on, find out who’s behind them and, if it looks bad, shut it all down.”

“So in other words, what I always do.” She gave a small laugh. “Easy.”

“And the usual deal on the other side.” He continued. “I can’t wave a magic wand and set things back to how they were, despite how much I want to. And yes, that means I can’t make you one of the few, the powerful, the elite. But on the other hand, I’m sure that a generous amount of cash can ease the pain somewhat.”

Juanita laughed. “You have me there. Though...” She looked him in the eye, her expression earnest. “A part of me wants to know why you’re doing this, Ponytail. The Republic’s gone; the age of peace is over and Stone ain’t ever coming back. The dream is dead, Ponytail.”

“Dreams don’t die.” He simply replied. “Now tell me what you want. Lunch is on me.”

Description
Galatea City
Galatea, Former Prefecture VIII
Republic Territories
3 September 3136

From the outside, the Tharonja’s Galatea City lacked a lot of the frills usually associated with the franchise. It was an odd touch for the largest restaurant in the chain, especially on Galatea where it had all started. The exterior lacked any of the usual affectations of the more extravagant branches; no cheerful feathered serpents, no tiki masks, no plastic palm trees, nothing. Rather, like the rest of Galatea City, it was a bland, concrete shell designed for durability and ease of repair.

The Interior was another story, one that amused Juanita Kwan as she took her seat. The owners of the store had decided to compensate for the drab exterior and gone into overkill to do such. The result was a cluttered schizophrenic mess, combining the usual kitsch with walls of photos of various Thraonja’s branches from across the sphere, including some of those long-gone.

She’d been staring at some photos of the various previous Galatean offices as she’d been figuring what to say to her contact. The progression in and of itself was interesting, watching the transformation from simple diner to massive faux-temple monstrosity, and enough to allow her mind to wander rather then focus on what she really wanted to say.

“Good to see you, Jay.” The man effortlessly slid into his seat, his casual suit and slick ponytail a stark contrast to the garish clutter around him.

“And you too, Ponytail.” She simply shot back.

“I’m really, really glad you could make it.” He nodded. “Look, I know it’s been a while, but I have something for you.”

“Forget it.” She simply shot back. “I’m done, Ponytail. It’s over. Finished.”

To his credit, Antonin didn’t miss a beat. “Not willing to hear me out?”

“Nope.” She shot back with a smirk. “I’ve got what I want, Ponytail. Now don’t get me wrong; I’m glad that you helped me get there, but the point is now that I don’t really have any need for your games – or any interest in risking what I got for them.” Her smirk turned into a consolidatory smile.

He shrugged. “So you have what you want. Good for you.”

“I’m a MechWarrior. What more is there?”

Now Ponytail smiled. “See, that’s the big thing, Jay.” He explained. “You’re a MechWarrior now. That’s nice and all, but that’s also a degraded title and you know it.” There was no anger, no malice, nothing in his voice beyond a simple statement of facts. “Between new production, recommissioning, salvage and so on, there are more ‘Mechs active now then there were back in ’32 when we met. And more ‘Mechs means more MechWarriors to operate them.”

He gave a small nod. “Fact is, what you worked so hard for is no longer the privilege or the power it once was. Now anyone can be a MechWarrior, and there will be more and more doing such.”

She gave a small growl. Well played. It was the one thing she had, her pride in being herself, of doing what she wanted and being the best. And knowing that she’d gone from ‘privileged elite’ to ‘everyman’ stung hard, even if it was a fact that she’d been gradually more and more aware of. Kicking it in my face like that means I can’t ignore it.

“You got me.” There was the smallest hint of defeat in her tone. “So what do you want, Ponytail, and what am I getting?”

Antonin’s grin was brief but broad, clearly aware that she had the reaction he’d expected. “I’ve been tracking a large number of Mercs going into this one employer.” He explained. “Many of them are going through dummy accounts, fake names, shells... all that sort of thing, but there’s a definite pattern emerging. And that’s enough to worry me.”

“Precedent?”

“Something like this happened before, albeit on a much larger scale. There was another group who hired a lot of mercs through dummies and proxies.”

“Who was that?”

“A bunch of guys in robes.” He stated. “In the mid-late 3060s.”

“Ok, I can see your concern.” She leaned in. “So what do you want me to do?”

“Simple.” He smiled. “Join them. Get in there, find out what’s going on, find out who’s behind them and, if it looks bad, shut it all down.”

“So in other words, what I always do.” She gave a small laugh. “Easy.”

“And the usual deal on the other side.” He continued. “I can’t wave a magic wand and set things back to how they were, despite how much I want to. And yes, that means I can’t make you one of the few, the powerful, the elite. But on the other hand, I’m sure that a generous amount of cash can ease the pain somewhat.”

Juanita laughed. “You have me there. Though...” She looked him in the eye, her expression earnest. “A part of me wants to know why you’re doing this, Ponytail. The Republic’s gone; the age of peace is over and Stone ain’t ever coming back. The dream is dead, Ponytail.”

“Dreams don’t die.” He simply replied. “Now tell me what you want. Lunch is on me.”