Chapter 1

Running her fingers back through her hair lightly, Randi smiled in contentment. That was a rather novel state for her, and one she was gladly growing to accept. She glanced down the corridor as her partner, and more recently significant other, Fred Acosta followed. He fumbled through his jacket pockets to find the key to their flat, and gave her an apologetic look when he finally located it. She just smiled and stepped aside from the door.

He had been taking things slowly in their relationship over the past few weeks. Initially, she had expected that they would move in together much sooner than this. She had to remind herself though, that her attitudes probably seemed as fast to him as his seemed slow. Physical intimacy was very much a part of Clan society, but emotional intimacy was scarce. As a decidedly martial people, most Clans placed little value on love, and some actively discouraged it. While Randi had grown accustomed to the concept of romance over her years in the InnerSphere, actually participating in it was a rather different experience. Slowly, though, she was adjusting. She was pleased that they were going to share a flat now, yet she found that it wasn't that important to her overall. She did not mind waiting on Fred, just so long as she knew that he cared about her.

At the moment, though, she was even more pleased to be turning in and getting off her feet. The whole day had been like one long business trip, spent ensuring that the 'Mechs were unloaded from the DropShip, the flat was in order, and all of the unit's transactions had been accepted. It was important to get their affairs now, so that they could start pursuing new employment. An extension of their contract with Quikscell had kept them on Oliver into July, but the pay was decent. The ache of working for that company had also diminished rapidly without any antagonists present, and the rest of their time had been spent on uneventful convoy duty. Now on Castor, it looked as though they would finally have enough money to hire on the additional personnel needed to bring unit up to a full lance.

Fred smiled as he walked up beside her and unlocked the door. "Home sweet home," he said, allowing her to go ahead, "at least for a couple weeks, anyway."

"Good enough for me." She smiled back and walked inside, pulling her tank top off over her head, as he closed the door behind them. She tossed it onto the couch in exchange for the tee shirt she wore to sleep, glad to be getting into something more comfortable.

"Ah—whoa!" Fred startled, as he turned towards her. "Sorry! I, uh, I didn't realize you were— I'll, um, go out," he said, whirling back towards the door.

"Why?" She gave him a quizzical look as she pulled on her tee-shirt.

"Pri..va...cy?" He glanced back over his shoulder, cautiously. Seeing that she was confused and not angry, he relaxed. "You, uh, don't mind?"

"Mind what? You seeing me naked?" She shook her head as she walked into the next room and sat down on the edge of the bed. "I do not see why you think I would. Would you care if I saw you naked?"

"No," he said flatly, then looked somewhat irritated with himself for his prior reaction. "Right. Of course you wouldn't mind, being a Clanner..."

"Former Clanner," she corrected.

He sat down next to her as she pulled off her boots and socks. "Sorry, then. I guess I'm still not quite sure what your boundaries are. The culture you grew up in is...rather different from mine," he said. Fred stroked through her hair lightly. "Heh, I just don't want to do anything that would make you uncomfortable, even by accident."

She drew her feet up onto the bed, draping her arms over her knees, and gave him a smile in return. "Well, rest assured, that is not one."

He nodded and began taking off his own boots. "I tell you what, I am so happy to have left that ice ball behind," he said, stifling a yawn. "No more ice, snow, sleet or slush. And no more Quikscell. Bleh!"

It wasn't his smoothest attempt to change a topic, but she indulged him. "Ah, Oliver was not too bad. Though Castor is a bit more pleasant, I'll grant you that." She chuckled a little, pulling back the covers on her side of the bed, and sliding under the sheets.

"Only a bit?" He chuckled, then nodded again. "Right, cold weather doesn't bother you, either."

She shrugged and smirked. "I never did mind the cold on Strana Mechty—just the company."

"Ah, speaking of company, I got some replies to the advert I posted on Merc-Net. A few of them look rather promising." He turned and handed her a folder from the nearby desk, before pulling his shirt off over his head.

"It seems that the WoB Protectorate has been putting a lot of people out of business lately," she said. Nearly half of all the applicants had made a note in their profiles that they were vehemently opposed to working with or for the Word of Blake. "Nuking Outreach certainly has not helped their PR, either."

Fred nodded in agreement. "It's a good thing none of them are Wobbies. They're almost as bad as the Davions."

"I assume that all the Federated Suns applicants are going into the 'no' pile, then," Randi said, setting some of the pages aside.

"More like 'burn' pile," he muttered. "See any you like?"

"Hm...There are a few with their own 'Mechs. Those are always worth a closer look. Considering that we have some empty cockpits, though, it might be better to spring for dispossessed veterans than green MechWarriors with a ride."

He leaned over and took some of the applications from the folder, arching his eyebrows as he examined the first one. "We also need to make sure they're in our price range," he said setting that application in the 'no' pile. Looking thoughtful for a moment, he added, "Also, that they won't beat up our techs. Harrison is getting old." He chuckled.

"That didn't stop him from bloodying a Clanner half his age..." She continued scanning the applications. "Hm, these look like 'maybes'..."

"'Maybes'?" He looked over at her inquisitively.

Randi handed him one of the sheets. "Any problem with Free Worlders?"

"Nah," he replied after a moment's thought, as continued looking over the applications, stroking his goatee in thought.

"Well, have you seen any others that look worthwhile?"

"Yeah, this sounds good. Goes by Hank...owns a custom Quickdraw. Sure, it's no Archer, but that's still some decent firepower. And Harrison and Ned could use a new toy to play with," he chuckled to himself. "Looks like he actually has some field experience, too."

"Definitely sounds like a winner."

"Sure does," He turned a page, then quickly flipped to another, "Let's see this one. Ah, a veteran, owns the family Zeus—" Fred cut himself off suddenly and tossed the page into the 'no' pile dismissively.

"Another FedSunner?" she asked, looking up from the page she was reading.

"Eh... An IS purist..."

She merely replied with a disaffected "Ah." Randi then set the folder and its remaining contents on the nightstand, stretched briefly, and laid back on her pillow. "I think we have some good possibilities here, overall."

"We definitely do." He smiled at her and petted over her thigh affectionately. "Do you feel comfortable moving in with me and that?"

"I am," she replied, smiling, then gave him a sort of wistful look. "I just wish you were, too."

"Heh," he looked a little sheepish, as he scooted up next to her. "It's somethin' I have to get used to, still... I suppose I'm just a bit concerned."

"About?"

He raked a hand back through his hair and sighed. "I have to admit something, Randi. My last relationship... didn't go over so well, and I got burned pretty bad. I've been over-cautious since then, I guess." He glanced back at her and cracked a smile. "But things are much different, now—better."

Randi's felt a little confused, but tried to look sympathetic. In a somewhat similar way, she could relate. She remembered how much it had hurt when Maro turned against her, and he had merely been a friend. Deciding that it was best not to ask the details, she merely hoped that whatever pain Fred had experienced was healed or healing. She put her hand on his lightly and smiled again, reassuringly. "I'm glad."

He nodded and yawned. "It's gotten late... We can finish sifting through these later," he said picking up the rest of the papers and depositing them on his desk. He stood, stripped to his boxers, and tossed his jeans over the desk chair, before slipping under the covers next to her. "Sweet dreams," he murmured, closing his eyes and draping one arm over her side lightly.

She smiled softly and tapped the nightstand lamp, cloaking the room in a gentle shadow. "Sweet dreams."

* * * * *

The sprawling bazaars of Castor were certainly an impressive sight. Multi-storied buildings with broad, open patios on each level lined both sides of the street. Down on the ground, smaller shops, kiosks, and stalls clustered together like an architectural jigsaw puzzle. The taller complexes were modern and sophisticated, but the individual stores had the most character.

Randi looked around interestedly as she followed after Fred, keeping the clipboard she had brought folded close to her chest. The marketplace was far larger than she had realized during their first trip to this planet. As they walked on, the newer buildings slowly gave way to more dated architecture. Fred had suggested that they hold the interviews in the old quarter, surmising that their applicants might be more comfortable in a pub than a touristy food court.

"Here we are," he announced, as they stopped at their destination. "The Golden Gulon."

"What the hell is a gulon?" she puzzled, as Fred opened the door, gesturing for her to go ahead.

However confusing the name might have been, the interior of the place was most inviting. It was very well-kept, but the mild lighting and wood furniture gave the pub a relaxed and casual air, unlike the sterile-looking restaurants in the new quarter. The booths, too, looked quite comfortable.

She looked back at Fred. "I will go get the drinks while you find a seat for us."

"Deal," he agreed, and chuckled as he slipped into the booth right next to them.

After a quick trip to the bar, she slid in beside Fred, with a beer for each of them, and the clipboard tucked under her arm. "The first applicants should start arriving soon. Are you ready?"

"I think so. We've narrowed it down to the ones that looked good on paper." He nodded graciously as he accepted the drink, and took a sip. "Who's first?"

"Ah..." She opened the first file and handed it to him. "Hektor Sarris. He's one of the more experienced applicants."

"That's good, we could use experience. Does he have a 'Mech?"

"No. Dispossessed. He used to pilot a heavy, though."

"He'd probably be at home in the Dragon then," He took another sip and looked around somewhat impatiently.

An man of medium height and a sturdy build, with short-cropped hair appeared at the door of the bar shortly. He adjusted his worn jacket as he stepped inside and kicked some of the dust off his shoes, as looked around for a moment. Spotting the two mercenaries, he approached their table. "You guys with the Vigilante Guard?"

"Certainly are. And you are Hektor Sarris?" Fred asked, as he stood, offering to his hand.

The man nodded and shook Fred's hand with a firm grip, then takes a seat across from them. As he did so, Randi noticed that a severe burn scar ran across the man's hand, over his wrist, and up his arm under the sleeve of his jacket. The left side of his jaw had some similar scars, though they were more faint.

"Alright," Fred continued, getting right to the point. "Why do you want to join the Vigilante Guard?"

"I'm a MechWarrior," he replied simply. "It's all I know. Fortunately, I'm good at it, too."

"And yet you don't have a 'Mech..." Randi said evenly.

Sarris cast her a scathing glare. Being dispossessed seemed to have gotten under his skin quite badly, as it did with most. "That has nothing to do with my skills. It was those thrice-damned Blakists."

Fred shook his head slightly. "Yeah, those damn Blakists... Well, we do have a 'Mech without a pilot, and we could stand to have an experienced soul at the controls"

"Really, now?" The applicant seemed to perk up a bit. "What is it?"

"It's a Dragon we recently obtained from our last contract. Do you think you can pilot it, and do you think you can follow my commands?" So far, Fred's attitude seemed positive towards the man. Sarris was enthusiastic, and seemed to possess the skills they wanted. She wondered, now, how he felt about the Clans.

Again, Sarris smiled. "Yeah, a Dragon sounds real nice." He added,"And yeah, I can take orders. As long as they aren't bone-head stupid or pro-Blakist."

"I can assure you we're not pro-Blakist. In fact, we're not even amateur Blakist," Fred quipped.

"Everything seems in order, is there anything else we should know?" Randi asked, turning things back to business.

"That I'm ready to hunt down those WoB sonsuvbitches," Sarris replied with a somewhat vengeful smile.

"Ah, there must be some confusion," she said, "we're staying away from WoB territory."

The man seemed dismayed, "Staying away? What are you, a coward? Are you working for them under the table or something?"

"No—"

"Then why aren't you going after them? They're a threat to all mercenaries! Just look what they did to the Dragoons!"

Fred shook his head, "Look, here at the Vigilante Guard, rule number one is to not die. Rule number two is that if you're absolutely determined to die, that you do it much, much later in your life or at least after you've finished your last two weeks." He shook his head. "We don't even have a full lance, as it stands. There's no way we're charging off to fight the Word of Blake."

"Fine," the man stood up and leaned forward, glowering. "I couldn't work for a cowardly Blake-sympathizer, anyway."

Fred matched his stare, the corners of his mouth turning to a frown, "And we couldn't hire someone that can't pilot a 'Mech."

Sarris shot a glare at Fred and got up from the booth quickly. He gave a harumph, muttered something about the thrice-damned Blakists under his breath, and stalked out of the bar.

"That could have gone better..." Randi mused. 'I guess his attitude toward Clanners is irrelevant, now...'