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Adriana Spaceport
Wyatt
The Republic, Prefecture VIII
30 March 3135

The DropShip Cambrai vented excess steam from the environmental system with a deep hissing sound, blasting a manmade fog across the tarmac. The condensed moisture didn't last long in the first light of morning, but it did signal the end of the landing procedures. Alexi Holt stood on the gangway and looked back to watch the massive port-side doors of the Leopard-class DropShip crack open.

The Cambrai had come all the way from Terra attached to its star-hopping JumpShip, Star Eagle, carrying a precious cargo. DropShips ferried materials to and from worlds, while JumpShips carried the DropShips from star to star. First of the cargo was the hardware it carried, including Holt's BattleMech, which filled one of its massive bays. Second, the military hardware and expendables she had brought with her. Finally, the information that its captain would provide upon his own departure from the ship.

With the sabotage and collapse of the HPG network, DropShip and JumpShip captains doubled as couriers of information and the equivalent of stellar pony express riders. Some captains transmitted their data and information as soon as they entered a system. Others, like the Cambrai's captain, waited until they arrived on the planet. Local government officials and businesses often treated DropShip captains like visiting royalty because they anxiously awaited the information and news from The Republic that they carried. Naturally, some captains milked this treatment for all it was worth.

Alexi reached the bottom of the gangway and stepped foot on Wyatt, drawing in a deep breath of air. It was a slightly thinner atmosphere than she was used to, and the air was cold and wet with the morning dew. She inhaled a mixture of smells: the oxidized air near the DropShip's fusion engines, fumes from conventional fuels, the faint aroma of strange plants and pollen. It was sweet, an almost pinelike aroma. She had been on dozens of worlds, and they each had their own smell. Wyatt was no different.

A young officer stepped forward and saluted, and she returned the honor. His uniform was gray and green, and from his rank and estimated age, she could see he was a junior lieutenant—very junior. "Lady Holt, I bring you greetings to Wyatt from Legate Singh. I am Lieutenant Johannson, First Company, Wyatt Militia."

She glanced past the young officer, then looked straight into his eyes. "While I am entitled to be called 'Lady,' I prefer to be called Knight Holt," she stated flatly, but not unkindly. There were many titles for Knights; some of those coined in the past few years were less than complimentary. In general, she scorned the formality. "Where is the legate?"

"He asked me to inform you that he is on maneuvers. While he wishes he could be here to greet you personally, he indicated that he would join you as soon as he returns."

Alexi had read the profile of Legate Edward Singh, and found his resume wanting. Yes, he had a good education and he showed administrative talents, but that information told her nothing about the man. Military academy training did not ensure leadership skills or competency on the field of battle, and she had her doubts. In her experience as a Knight, she had found that several of the legates who had risen to command planet militias were in over their heads. Hopefully, Singh wasn't one of them. He was in the field; that was a good sign. Training troops was important.

Hopefully not too important on this planet, but she knew combat here was a good possibility. She had come to Wyatt with a two-part mission from her Paladin. The first was to "work with ComStar to expedite restoration of the hyperpulse generator." Which meant, bluntly, kick them in the butt. That had been clarified for her by Paladin Sorenson. In three years, ComStar had barely scratched the surface of restoring the HPG network. Sorenson had sent her to light the proverbial fire under the ass of ComStar.

The Republic of the Sphere had been peaceful and thriving until the HPG network had been sabotaged. The new Exarch had tasked Paladin Sorenson with fixing the network. The logic was inescapable: since the crash of the network had led to war; restoring it should restore the stability that existed before. At least, that was the formal line that the Knights took, to support the public opinion. Most, like Knight Errant Alexi Holt, understood that the genie was out of the bottle. Now that the old factions and rivalries had surfaced and production was starting again on weapons of war, it was going to take more than just restoration of interstellar communications to end the conflicts and turmoil.

It was that realization that comprised the second element of her mission. If the HPG could be made operational on Wyatt, the world would become one of the few that had contact with other planets other than by JumpShips and their DropShip shuttles. Wyatt, which had disappeared from most star charts, would suddenly become a world of tempting value. Her secondary protocol for coming to Wyatt was to defend the planet should anyone decide to seize it and its HPG.

Alexi was sent to Wyatt to replace another Knight, Arthur Faust. He had kept the peace on Wyatt for years, and had, in a particular waste of a valuable asset, died in a house fire. She was new to this world, and wanted to walk with a diplomatic light step until she knew the people and their capabilities. She gave the far-too-young lieutenant a solid lock of her gaze. "I have brought a cargo hold full of hardware and munitions with me, Lieutenant. I need that gear secured, transported and stored in a safe facility."

"Yes, ma'am," he replied. "I am here to make the necessary arrangements."

"You'll need some vehicle drivers," she replied. "I've brought some large gifts, compliments of Paladin Sorenson."

"Very good," the man said, taking out a noteputer and stabbing at it furiously with the stylus. "I have arranged quarters for you," he said. "Our standard arrangements for someone of your standing are to berth you in the Royale Hotel in the city. Per the information we received from Paladin Sorenson when he sent word of your coming, I have arranged for a room in the BOQ."

She nodded and favored the lieutenant with a small smile. Good. Alexi had spent enough time in her missions as a Knight Errant in cushy hotels or posh resorts. She had been a Knight for a year before the crash of the HPG network, and had been a guest of state on various assignments. Alexi had not become a Knight for the luxury some felt compelled to provide her. The field of battle was what she liked. State dinners had little appeal for her; she preferred field kit meal packs on an open campfire. To hell with formality and a plush hotel. The BOQ, Bachelor Officers Quarters, would be just fine. Sorenson knew her well.

"Very well," she replied, glancing around the almost-empty tarmac, watching a few workers moving a coolant replacement line to her DropShip. "My BattleMech is aboard as well. I will take care of it personally. I'll need a map to the barracks or a guide." The streets sometimes were not rated to hold the weight of a 50- to 100-ton BattleMech.

"I will guide you myself," he replied enthusiastically. She understood the excitement in his voice. Before the Jihad and Devlin Stone's Reformation, BattleMechs had been relatively common. Now they were far more rare. In times of peace, a company of vehicles and a handful of 'Mechs were often more than enough to defend an entire world against pirates or other predators. Any world likely to face an invasion from a House or Clan needed a much larger force. Most locals were excited by the prospect of seeing just one 'Mech up close.

She surveyed the tarmac again. More workers appeared, all wearing the dull gray coveralls common at a spaceport. There was no sign of security; in fact, she realized the lieutenant had not asked for her identification. The bay of the DropShip carried enough military hardware to outfit a good-sized militia unit, and she was chagrined that she had let down her own guard. If someone unscrupulous was here, they might be able to seize the entire cargo.

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