8 August 3054
"Let me get this straight." The man behind the desk leaned forward to stare intently at his visitor. Like a bear defending his territory, he bunched his shoulders and prepared to engage the individual standing across his desk. "You 'happen' to hear that one of my pilots is out of the match. You 'happen' to hear I need a fourth pilot or else I have to scratch the match. You 'happen' to be checked out on O'Shea's 'Mech. You 'happen' to know Warwick. You 'happen' to be in my office and you 'happen' to want to fight for free. Chromium fire, man! Do I look stupid?" A pair of thundering fists crashed down on the desk as the man stood up. The ancient wooden piece creaked with the pressure, but held together. His eyes blazed with anger and frustration, but he was still in his home territory and would not be cowed into a corner.
"I didn't come to own four 'Mechs by being stupid. I don't know who you are, and at this point I don't really care. What I do want to know is why you're here and why I shouldn't have Esmeralda toss you out on your butt—and don't think she couldn't. She's the only other person ever to take O'Shea in a fight."
The man on the other side of the stablemaster's desk paused for just an instant to allow the nearly berserk owner to fall back into his desk chair. For most people this would have signaled the end of the confrontation, but for this man, it seemed more like a willingness to take a few rounds instead of dishing it out. He reached out and stabbed a cigar, which smelled disturbingly like real tobacco, into the corner of his mouth, his eyes daring his visitor to say something. Behind the stablemaster's chair an overworked and ineffective air purifier hummed quietly. Judging the moment to be right, the visitor leaned forward and placed his hands flat on the other man's desk.
"Mister Carstairs, although you are not interested, my name is Jeremiah Rose." Rose waited a few moments to see if the name would mean anything to the stable owner. Rose had no doubt that Carstairs was intimately familiar with everything that had been going on with his pilots and the role he had played. Carstairs didn't so much as blink at the name. The bear—Rose couldn't help but think of the giant stablemaster as anything else—worked his cigar to the other side of his mouth, but did not speak. Suddenly unsure of his strategy, Rose hesitated slightly before continuing.
"For the last two years I have been fighting the Clans in the Draconis Combine. I was a company commander for more than half that time. Five months ago my company was crushed by combined elements of the Wolf Clan, leaving me the only survivor out of twelve men and women. My 'Mech, like many others, was a one-of-a-kind creation. Now there isn't enough of it left to build a doghouse. I am in Solaris to regain a 'Mech." Rose paused to let Carstairs digest what he'd said. When the stable owner didn't immediately explode again, Rose was certain he'd be allowed to finish his speech. Heartened, he continued on.
"As you are doubtless aware, there are fewer and fewer 'Mechs available, even for seasoned veterans such as myself. My last unit offered me a staff position and placed me on a waiting list for a replacement. I was sixth in line, facing a prospective wait of twenty-four to thirty-six months. That is unacceptable.
"I attempted to purchase a 'Mech from several sources, but even that failed. With the recent Combine and Federat losses, it's a seller's market. I was finally forced to come to Solaris to acquire a 'Mech, as this seems to be the only planet within a year's travel that actually has more 'Mechs than pilots. Now I discover I cannot purchase one even here.
"The JumpShip on which I was traveling developed a fuel leak, delaying my arrival on Solaris for over a month. I came within a week of missing the entire season. Again, that is unacceptable.
"Your lance is scheduled to fight Warwick this evening in the final confrontation of the season. Jaryl, your only back-up, was killed by someone obviously working for Warwick and you are up the creek without a paddle. The damage done to O'Shea's middle ear will be fine in another eighteen hours, but for now he's got a PPC-sized headache, a persistent ringing in his ears, and the balance of a town drunk. The only reason O'Shea isn't dead is that I got to him before Warwick's hired assassin." Rose shifted in his chair as he thought about the med-patches under his shirt and the sting in his ribs.
"Now, Mister Carstairs, you have a choice. You can accept my original offer to purchase a spot on your team and participate in the upcoming conflict or you can have the lovely Miss Esmeralda toss me out." Rose leaned back in his chair and again allowed his words to sink in. He tried to shift in his chair as the owner thought over the matter. His wounds would heal eventually and he doubted the scars would amount to much, but right now it felt as though someone had taped a couple of angry hornets to his side and shoulder. Rose concentrated on his breathing, trying to will the pain away. He hadn't come even close when he noticed Carstairs shift in his chair and prepare to speak. The bear waved away the gray-blue tobacco cloud that had formed around his head and leaned forward.
"All right, Mister Rose, here's the offer. This is a onetime deal, so you can take it or blow.
"First, you buy the Shadow HawkO'Shea's been riding. That way if you get toasted by one of Warwick's gunslingers, it's no skin off my nose. If you manage to make it out alive, the 'Mech, or what's left of it, is yours. Second, you forfeit all rights to salvage and your share of the purse.
"You didn't know about the salvage, did you? It's usually not much of an issue on Solaris, but tonight we got us a real treat. Warwick and I had to agree to make this last fight an actual battle. Winner take all. If we win, we, meaning I, get the titles to the four 'Mechs in Warwick's lance. If I, meaning you, lose? Well, you won't have to worry much about your new 'Mech and I've got to start looking for some new rides for my pilots." Carstairs leaned back in his chair and propped his huge feet on the desk. With a satisfied sigh he blew a series of smoke rings into the stale air.
"Third," Carstairs looked between his feet at Rose, "if you live through the night, you'll tell me about that last encounter with the Wolves. I've heard rumors and I want to hear the real story from someone who was there. I know you didn't fight with any of the regular House units and you're certainly not a merc, at least not yet. Far as I can see, that makes you ComStar or Clan and also one rare bird."
Carstairs grinned as Rose's eyes snapped up. To Rose it had always seemed elementary that others would assume he'd once been a member of the Com Guards, but everyone on Solaris seemed to think he was a spy for one of the Great Houses. Hearing the truth spoken out loud, however, was something of a surprise. Rose had given himself away, but did not answer. The smile on Carstairs' face grew even bigger.
"Now, do we have a deal?"
* * *
Jeremiah walked out to meet his new lancemates in the underground locker room. He set down the heavy suitcase and eyed them with the same caution and suspicion he saw mirrored on their faces. Not that he could blame them. They were being asked to trust their lives to a complete stranger at the apparent whim of their boss. Jeremiah was in the same situation, but of his own choice. He could imagine the anger, frustration, and fear these people must be feeling. He examined the two women and one man, all of whom had already donned their gear and cooling vests. The silence was almost a tangible creature, stalking the room with them, until the biggest of the three spoke.
"I'm Esmeralda. This is Jackson and that's Little Mary. This is my lance and these are my people, no matter what that jerk Carstairs says. O'Shea didn't have a problem with that. What about you?" Rose considered his options and, although the arrogance and antagonism in the woman's voice would have normally led to a confrontation, he knew he must ease their fears even if he could not expect their trust.