Star Commander Morton leaned on the one bare wall of the communications center inside the base. The rest of the interior was coated in large terminals, monitors or windows leading to the outside. The MechWarrior was about to be subjected to a series of questions regarding the 'incident' a few hours ago.
So far, the only other people accompanying him were the Quartermaster and lead Technician of the base.
The Quartermaster was practically a living mountain of muscle and black fur, Morton assumed the cause of the monstrous physique was from years of hard physical work and heavy lifting. The Quartermaster may have been a freeborn, but the Star Commander honestly thought that the man would have a slight edge in a hypothetical fight between the two.
The Technician was also well built, not as profoundly as the Quartermaster but definitely a rival to Morton. That was probably because the Technician was trueborn and at one point a MechWarrior himself. An aging one at that - the Technician had to be in his mid thirties. Morton guessed that the Tech failed a Trial of Position late in his career and was demoted to the Technician caste, otherwise he would almost certainly be in a Solahma unit by now. Or perhaps it was because he was taken as a bondsman.
Morton was curious about the fate of the Technician, and all he needed to do was ask to find out the answer. However, neither side said a word to the other for there was little real reason to - the Technician Caste knew its lower but essential place in society was to be subservient to the Warrior Caste, and as such interaction between each other was strictly business for most intents and purposes.
Knowing he should not leave the room until the scientist arrived and finished their questions, Morton decided to allow his memories to manifest. He began to picture the icy landscape of the planet Dawn in the Inner Sphere, as his Star was ambushed by KungsArmee troops of the Free Rasalhague Republic.
He remembered most vividly the azure gusts of snow that danced upon the cockpit of his Mad Dog glow green and orange as he fired off his Medium Pulse Lasers and SRMs, the Cataphract that opposed him being hardly a challenge. He was not a poet, but he knew that given enough time he could have written several pages worth about the frost on the windows symbolically meaning the grip of his loyalty to the Clan; or the reactor's heat fighting the cold air in the interior representing the conflict of reigniting the fire of the Star League in the chilled cores of the Inner Spheroids.
But he did not join in Operation Revival to find a muse for poetry, he went to bring enlightenment of Kerensky's true vision to the oppressed masses, and swat aside anyone who stood in the way. He even went on to participate in the Battle of Tukayyid, the Trial of Possession that would determine the fate of Terra. Sadly, despite giving his all, and though his Clan defeated the ComGuards decisively, the Clans as a whole lost the battle and were forced into a fifteen year ceasefire. The years passed, and Morton was eventually considered too old to serve in the front line Clusters. Knowing that he would likely never live to see the day when the invasion resumed as a Solahma, he opted to becoming an instructor so that he could help ensure the next generation could accomplish what he would not.
Morton caught himself in realization that just earlier today he called out the Cadet for daydreaming, and now he was doing the same thing. After quickly comparing the circumstances involved, he found no meaningful hypocrisy to be had - not that he would really care anyway - and continued sifting through his memories.
Scientist Derek double-checked his beige hazmat suit for the third time in what he assumed was ten minutes. He was a K-F physicist that had been called in from another side of the planet due to his advanced understanding in the subject. He personally did not know why he was being summoned to an out of the way training facility hundreds of kilometers from the nearest major settlement, but considering the unwillingness of the Aerospace pilot in telling him, he was once again on a need to know basis.
Being a member of the Scientist Caste had its benefits. For one, scientists literally held the future of the Clans in their hands. It was they who were responsible for ensuring that the genes of the original 800 warriors were carefully maintained so that the next generation could be born without difficulties.
Unlike traditional reproduction, the majority of Clan warriors were conceived and bred in artificial wombs. Allowing the genetically enhanced offspring, or 'trueborns' to be produced in groups of twenty in the time it would take to produce one (freeborn) child naturally.
Another perk of the Scientist Caste was the general freedom bestowed in comparison to the lesser Castes, and arguably even the Warrior Caste. Only the most oppressive Clans would meddle with a scientist's work intentionally, and Clan Wolf was not one of them.
But Derek knew all of this, and reminding himself would do little to change the level of insight he had. He looked at the pilot sitting in the cockpit seat in front of him through the narrow viewing space his suit allowed. The pilot was a small, almost grotesquely slender figure, he could not see the pilot's eyes, but he knew they were spaced out much more than normal.
Derek had always thought Aerospace phenotypes were unsettling, Elementals were just tall and muscly while MechWarriors were also that to a lesser degree. The woman flying the Vandal fighter, however, frankly looked too much like an alien for his comfort.
With no clue as to why he is being transferred other than needing a hazmat suit; Derek assumed a malfunction had just occurred on a drive which resulted in a radiation leak and he was apparently going to help figure out why and take notes in the process. What did not make sense was that there were no reports of anything extraordinary occurring. Sure, if the situation was worrisome enough the Warriors would suppress the media response so as to not upset the lesser castes, but what he was referring to was that none of the researchers, the seismologists, the people he knew who would be the first to know this kind of stuff were totally ignorant.
The only thing Derek could hope for was wait for the Vandal to reach the base soon, it was cramped inside the cockpit and even more cramped inside the suit. He was not claustrophobic, but that did not mean he did not want to get out and stretch his legs for the first time in two hours, if only for but a moment.
“We are nearing the destination, ETA two minutes.” The Aerospace pilot flatly announced, not even a trace of vested interest was in her words.
“While am I disappointed that I never received my mid-flight movie, I suppose I should still give a tip.” Derek was treading on thin ice by humoring his pilot in such a way, but luckily she played along.
“Thank you for flying with the 20th Crimson Support Cluster, we hope you enjoyed your flight.” The pilot replied. Derek was genuinely surprised, his previous experience with trueborn warriors had imprinted the stereotype that they lacked a sense of humor - or at least only shared it among themselves.
Then again, perhaps it was this lack of conformity that brought her current position in the planetary garrison instead of something more prestigious. Whatever the reason, he ultimately could care less about her life story. He had more important things to get ready to think about.
Derek felt the fighter craft gradually slow and descend as he began to grow anxious to get out of the compact interior. He tried to look at what was visible at the front of the plane, but was only able to detect a moderately sized crater and what appeared to be the base still a few kilometers away. Moments later he shook lightly when the Vandal touched the ground and continued its deceleration until the craft finally arrested near some kind of firing range. Dozens of lime green orbs with protruding scarlet spikes hovered off the ground, fluttering about in a set pattern close by.
The canopy of the Vandal hissed and slid back, exposing the two inhabitants to the outside world. Derek crawled up and prepared to leap to the ground, only to be stopped by the pilot after the mention of a ladder being sent to the craft. Sure enough a pair of technicians moved toward the Vandal, carrying a simple twelve foot step ladder over their backs.
Once on the ground, Derek wasted no time in getting inside the base. No effort of a security clearance check beyond showing an I.D. was made as the scientist hastily scouted the halls.
Reaching his destination, the communications hub, Derek stepped through and was greeted by the Quartermaster with a terse 'greetings', the other two simply nodded in acknowledgment.
“Alright, would one of you explain to me why I have been summoned?” Derek asked to all three, but focused on the lead Technician.
“In response to the recent... anomaly, you have been called to investigate into it.” The Technician, who's I.D. designated him as Pytor, answered.
“Okay...” Derek held up his enveloped hand to the location of his chin to simulate the action of being in deep thought. “Where should I begin?”
“I suggest inquiring Morton first, he is our best witness to the event.” The Quartermaster lifted his arm and pointed a furry digit at the MechWarrior.
“Today started off like any ordinary day - I was going to send a Cadet to fight a drone 'Mech so he could cut his teeth.” Morton stood up straight and let his arms relax to his sides. “On the way to the designated rendezvous point, the Cadet inexplicably dashed off in another direction, towards a set of mock buildings used for inspection training.
“I ordered him to correct his course, but he refused and continued to the inspection grounds. After requesting for further instructions on what to do, I received an order from Star Captain Christian to fire upon the Cadet if he failed to heed a warning to stand down and prepare for a Trial of Grievance.
“When he did not relent, I fired a salvo of two LRM-20s upon the Cadet, who managed to duck behind a building in time to evade the missiles.”
“With all due respect, Star Commander, how does this relate to the supposed phenomenon here? Particularly the crater near the base?” Derek interrupted Morton when the latter paused. While it was unusual for a Cadet to behave in such a way, how did that have to do with a giant hole in the ground? There was certainly no way LRMs could be the culprit, not even - no, definitely not even - a 'Mech's reactor going critical could do that much damage.
“When the LRMs hit the structure, it began to surge lightning from it.” Technician Pytor answered.
Derek raised his eyebrows in intrigue, not that his companions could see.
“The structure began giving off a strong amount of energy, similar - and then quickly exceeding - in scale to that of a K-F drive in action. We do not know how or why, but the result was a blindingly bright explosion that shattered the exterior windows of the base. When the light faded, all that was left of the training grounds was the crater. There were no radiation signatures, nothing significant on thermals, it is as if the course and the area immediately surrounding it just vanished from the universe.”
Derek stood there frozen in disbelief, he had spent most of his life studying K-F physics and he was totally unprepared for this. It was totally possible for a drive to malfunction, with results ranging from the drive simply quitting to the JumpShip using it ending up in a different star system - sometimes inside the star itself. It was also known that a JumpShip could simply disappear after jumping, never to be seen again.
The problem was that K-F drives could only be used in certain areas of space where gravity was sufficiently canceled out by two celestial bodies. Yet if what he heard so far was true, that a drive had been successfully activated on a planet's surface; just about every practical everything he knew about the topic had been spat in his face.
Derek shook himself lightly and continued eliciting answers. “Was there anything notable in the mock structures?”
“Neg, other than a small transponder inside each building, nothing should have been inside.” The Quartermaster spoke up, scratching his burly right bicep.
“And the purpose of these transponders were?”
“Each transponder was programmed to create an identification signal. For example, grain would be one of the readings of an inspected building, even though there is no actual grain inside.”
Derek nodded, “What was the signal that the building the Cadet hid behind emitted?”
“Hardware,” Pytor added in, the other three in the room turned to him with varying levels of attention. “The building was listed as containing nonspecific hardware, but as Ignatius already mentioned the probability of anything actually being in there that should not have been is microscopic.”
The scientist directed his attention towards a radar terminal then back at Pytor. “Who else detected this signal?”
“Almost no-one,” Quartermaster Ignatius grunted.
“According to our nearest patrol located five kilometers away from the event, they briefly reported a very weak energy reading from the direction of the base. Our second patrol, located fifteen kilometers away noticed nothing out of the ordinary when asked to report in.” Morton added, tapping his fingers against his side.
“So, the energy spike was intense enough to break virtually every record regarding energy output but not potent enough to be spotted by someone more than five or six kilometers away? Granted, the sensors on a 'Mech are not as powerful as ones that would be found on say, this base, but you seem to be implying that nobody has detected this outside this facility. Quiaff?”
Pytor nodded affirmatively, he did not need to say more at the moment.
Derek shut his eyes tightly and thought of what next to do. This is not leading anywhere, but they expect me to know the answer to something that just cannot be explained at the moment. It is just so statistically improbable that... He reopened his eyes and examined the room once more, finding nothing of note that he did not spot before. I need to tell them that there is simply not much I can do right now. I do not have the necessary equipment, and nobody here is presenting a solid foundation to go on in their answers. Closing his eyes once more, a wave of tingly feelings washed over much of his upper body, akin to developing a case of goosebumps. Derek was not anxious, because if anything he found the feeling soothing. I need a rest to clear my thoughts, I suppose sitting in an Aerospace fighter for two hours with nothing to do is more draining than I first thought.
And so he did. As he concluded his apologies for having to cut the questioning session short, Derek asked for somewhere to rest. Ignatius led the scientist down the hall towards an elevator, the two took it down the subterranean levels of the base. From there it was a matter of going around a corner or two before reaching a barracks.
“You have two hours,” Ignatius grumbled and abruptly shut the door behind him.
Derek sighed and began removing his hazmat suit, when he was finished he was only in a fairly loose silver bodysuit, otherwise known as a pair of satin pajamas. NBC apparel was uncomfortable to wear as it is, and Derek saw to it that wearing it did not have be an overly unpleasant experience. It is not like standard lab attire would make me any safer from radiation should my suit fail, he reasoned to himself.
The scientist pulled out a small datapad from a sealed pocket in the suit, sent and read some messages, set its timer application to one hour and forty-five minutes (he neared the fifteen minute mark by the time his errands were done), and placed it on the upper bunk of the bed he was going to use.
With no further matters to attend to at the moment he crawled into the bottom bunk, his last thoughts before quickly drifting into dreamland went along the lines of: I can make some sense out of all this mess. I just hope this is all worth the hassle when I do.