Eisenhorn

Lunar Dome 10

Alright, I'll see what I have put together in the next few days at most, bit busy today but we'll see what I can whip up.

Lunar Dome 10

I am certainly interested in throwing my hat into the dome, metaphorically speaking, sure as sure.

Lancer [Mechs, Magic, and Intrigue]

Got sidetracked longer than I wanted to, but Hartwig is getting repairs underway.

Lancer [Mechs, Magic, and Intrigue]

Albert Hartwig

The shuttle shook as it launched right on schedule, Albert going through his datapad while they were in transit between ships. Listening to the chatter between the pilot, The Indomitus, and the general chatter from the Lancers, it was clear things were continuing to get more complicated than one might think from pirates in general. Savior-1, was it? Ironic, considering he was only going over because the alternative was not ideal. The rest of the damage control party was discussing their roles, the equipment monkey was sitting next to him, surprisingly patient given how he has been treated so far, probably because he was actually learning, even if it was not what one would consider standard thinking. Damage control, responding to crisis, and so on was all useful to know regardless of role, especially on a military vessel. By the sound of the chatter, and sights from the shuttle, there were more incoming hostile ships. Pirates were keeping busy, and launching more attacks even now.

"....Sir?"

Albert glanced, realizing the equipment monkey had been talking, a glance confirming they were approaching the docking point for the Percheron at this point, and he already stood, grabbing his bag of tools. They had made the distance between Indomitus and Percheron, and that meant his break was over, it was time to get to work. The moment the ramp dropped, Albert moved with purpose, barking orders as he descended into chaos.

"Right, you two, report to their damage control center, get me a constant feed of useful information, screen out the panic and bitching. You lot, grab the tools and spare parts and fall in. You, stick close and do what I say. Your my runner, I need something, I say it, you repeat it back, and start running. Word for word."

That got a nod, and Albert made a beeline for the engine room, his team of veteran techs following in close form, bypassing groups of ship's crew that was not injured. They were fighting to fix other damage, things they could handle, clearing the way for the dedicated damage control party to come save them from the worst going on. Ship's crew was trying to get auxiliary power back online, smart given they could not handle the reactor situation, but a waste if Albert couldn't fix this. Reaching the engine room, he began dispatching his damage control team to work.

"You three, Team Alpha, get fresh coolant ready to start flowing, current flow is going to need help. You two, Beta, I want you fixing controls and any electrical damage of reactor control. You three, Charlie, start working on the external hydraulics for reactor control rods. I'm suiting up to start working inside the reactor compartment. You, grab the timer and follow me."

Albert moved with purpose as his team scattered, jumping to work, professional chatter and discussion of what needed done covering his communication net with his team. Damage control center information began flowing down from his contacts sent up that way, and despite his orders, not all of it was useful. Typical, of course, he would tell those two off later. For now, he reached the doubled hatch and dropped his toolbag, starting to put on the shielded suit for accessing the reactor for short bursts of time. As he suited up, he talked to the equipment monkey he had with him.

"Right, lining in these is good for stopping most of the radiation from the reactor for, worst case scenario, fifteen minutes. I have to get the internal control rod controls up and running in that timespan, so on my mark, you start that timer. I want callouts every minute, on the minute, and at the twelve minute mark? You get on this door control, because at the fourteen minute mark I am egressing and you need to be ready to actuate the door controls. Once back in the shielded passage, I undergo decontamination and start working with the rest of the team on actual control and keeping the reactor from going sub or super critical."

Albert swapped communication channels, updating the Indomitus on the situation at hand. Local comms, mainly the speaker system that the equipment monkey would have to use to announce time callouts inside the reactor compartment, but beyond that? He would be on his own. It was the most dangerous, touch and go part of this repair, and it was not surprising they did not have anyone who could do it without risking lifelong life complications from radiation exposure.

"Indomitus, Hartwig. Going dark on comms for fifteen minutes to implement repairs on reactor compartment controls, will advise progress in thirty minutes."

Hartwig would not wait for a reply at this point, letting the two engineers who were on comms at that point as well handle any further documentation of any necessary information. With that, he would open the outer door of the shielded ingress point into the reactor compartment, grabbing his tools, and walking in. The door was sealed behind him, and the equipment monkey was on the comm system, announcing that he had the timer ready to start. The moment that inner hatch opened, the clock started, and he would have to work fast and, more importantly, accurate. A hiss announced the inner hatch, equipment monkey announced timer start, and Albert took off at a dead spring, swinging through the interior hatch and setting to work. Internal suit sensors showed no leak through, pre-use inspection was sound, and his goal was simple. He had to get the internal control rod actuators unjammed and working, their controls working again, and that would be exactly what he set to do.

Lancer [Mechs, Magic, and Intrigue]

<Snipped quote by Bentus>

I dramatically over-estimated my free time this week, sorry for the hold-up everyone!

Been loving the posts in the meantime. Wernher, Psyker, Arnorian, how are y'all feeling with the mech combat around the Venture? It's been great reading you all writing the fighting scenes, but let me know if it would be helpful for me to write up responses for the pirate combatants.

Also, a question for the whole group, I tend to avoid adding new Discord servers when I can afford to. I'm thinking of setting up a dedicated channel for this RP in an existing server for a larger group of loosely-connected roleplays. If there's any objections to this (or a preference for a dedicated server) speak up now or I'll go ahead and click the big red button.

@Bentus

No objections or strong preferences in regards to dedicated server vs dedicated channel. Also expect another post from me in the next few days, at the absolute latest.

Lancer [Mechs, Magic, and Intrigue]

Albert Hartwig

Albert was currently in the midst of finalizing the organization of away parties for doing salvage and field repair work when he was directly addressed on the comms. He had been listening in, the escalating combat situation and approval of the fossil of a war hero being sent into the vanguard being met with muttered cursing and mental additions to his list for repairs once the fighting was done. Of course, ultimately, the Prince would just go with whoever volunteered first. Though that was not his primary concern, the ship's comms officer wanted him for something. Lucia, if he remembered right, and he glanced at his datapad as he processed the information being sent to him. One of the convoy ships, not under direct attack but suffering from battle damage all the same. Initial raid grazed them, reactor was going to go super critical by the looks of it, and they were asking for damage control assistance. From a warship. A warship that was actively engaging the same pirates that were still trying to loot one of their convoy mates. Wonderful.

"Report received, let's see.....why did they even try to bring it back online like that? They should have reserve power for this exact situation just in....no, no they don't. They already burned through their reserve power trying to run silent, probably after the attack to play dead, and cocked up the reactor startup when it was that or life support giving out. Looks like stuck control rods, no auxiliary power generation that is intact or salvageable in time, so I get to play stabilize the reactor without killing power completely. Worthless second rate reactor designs...."

Albert shouted for the nearest person, the messenger monkey from earlier (who was now promoted to equipment fetcher, truly his meteoric rise continued) to grab the spare reactor maintenance hard suits and be back here in five. The trip would take five, by his estimate, but he wanted to put the fear of failure into the lad, he had to get used to impossible demands. Like preventing a damaged reactor, with no backup power, from not only going super critical and turning into a dirty bomb, but taking the ship, and his damage control team, with it. Just another day on the job, he thought with full sarcasm, and about that point the good Captain, who at least knew how to mouth off which was bonus marks in his estimate, chimed in via the comms officer. Have a damage control party ready on a shuttle to launch over on a narrow pass between the Venture and Percehron, and move with a sense of purpose. Ah, good, he was going over after all.

"Give the Captain my heartfelt thanks. Already have eyes on a shuttle that no one thought to bolt down or put to use."

Albert was deadpan in his response, and he grabbed a mix of senior technicians (the ones he would trust with actual work while he did the hard parts), an engineer or two (he would send them to parlay and tell the panicking damage control center on the Percheron sweet nothings to keep them calm and not bother him), as well as his returning equipment fetcher (who had the audacity to ACTUALLY make the run, grab the spare suits, and be back in time, he would find a use for the stubborn soul yet). More importantly, this mix would still leave plenty of useful talent, and not so useful message runners, to handle damage control on board the Indomitus should something go truly sideways, or enact Core salvage and field repair. Or he would finish on Percheron in time to shuttle straight over into the fray for field repairs knowing his luck. By the time his window was approaching, the shuttle he had commandeered, along with his daring and....mostly voluntary damage control party were ready to launch. He even 'borrowed' a pilot who was too slow to avoid him catching up to them, and was not actively attached to any other immediate operation, who was competent enough to thread the needle. Lucky him.

"Hartwig here, damage control party all bundled up and ready to go on a field trip."

Lancer [Mechs, Magic, and Intrigue]

Albert Hartwig

"What in the flying circus is this mess of Cores...

The magnitude of the colossal trainwreck that Albert had volunteered for was, at this point, painfully clear to him. He had just finished inventorying the various Armored Cores that the Lancers had either brought with them, requisitioned, or otherwise gotten their hands on and was not terribly impressed. It was a cluster of dated designs, poorly maintained Cores, the kind of stuff you bring into a ghost operation and not frontline activities, patchworks of customization and worse. There had been some part of him that had, in no small part, hoped that having royalty, even as far down the totem as Prince Cassian, would have had a bit more in the resource and repair department than he had seen during his initial inspections. He was scrolling down his personal data pad, annotating the worst of the problem children as he went. This list included, in no particular order:

• Hippo 7 - An example of the Cataphract line of Cores, and a reminder that the lack of standardization in power plants continued to make Albert even more exhausted than he already was. A turbine provided the power the thing needed, but guzzled fuel twice as fast as sailors given an open bar on shore leave, meaning he had already added a constant fuel supply to his To Do list for logistics. This particular Lancer had his own maintenance crew, but the nightmare mess of hydraulics, articulation, and bulk pretty much ensured that there was not a chance any of them would ever get ahead on maintenance. Albert was not entirely convinced they were even going to keep up, meaning he was going to have to get involved at some point. Hell, the thing had arrived barely functional, last time he walked by they had stalled the turbine trying to reverse it into place. It currently sat at the top of his shit list at the moment, impressive given the other stand out Cores on his list.
• Phantom - Some bleeding edge electronic warfare Core straight out of an spy thriller's wet dream, meaning that parts would be hard to come by, likely confidential, and the thing just looked temperamental at first glance. Along side every other glance he had been able to get at the thing, given each time he had tried the red tape seemed to manifest like the wrath of an angry, bureaucratic god. He would have to talk to the Lancer themselves at some point if he was going to make Logistical support even feasible for the thing. It looked like a stiff breeze would blow the thing over, though he had a feeling that the breeze would be hard pressed to find it in the first place. Looked like a nightmare to deal with, but it was fairly low on his problem list right now, it was at least in good working order if the maintenance crew's efforts were anything to go by.
• Ironside - The closest thing anyone was running to a stock Core, near as Albert had been able to gather so far, and it was being piloted by quite possibly the oldest, crustiest, long in the tooth war hero to still be alive and kicking. Closer investigation during his rounds had basically confirmed that it was not so much a stock command mech, but what the stock command mech had been based on. Basically the most well known quality among the Lance, for better or worse, and parts would be in mercifully massive supply. Hell, he was fairly sure there was a contact of his that would be begging to offload parts for Ironside, just to move stock finally, so that should be a non issue. Replacing the smoke canisters with what looked like frag bombs was....a choice. He had seen some urban combat pilots favor that kind of thing to prevent getting swarmed by infantry, but on a command mech that should not be in the first line of combat? A concerning giveaway that Core might get a lot more repairs than he would suspect.
• Armatus - Someone had taken a perfectly good Leonard and monkeyed with it is what they did, any relief at seeing, at first glance, a stock Core had been quickly dashed. Stripped armor to make up for trying to overwork that otherwise acceptable stock engine being woefully overworked, still relatively stock meaning it would not have the shock factor of one of the bleeding edge frames, and barely capable of mounting....ANY weapons last he checked, and this was going to be a headache and a half to get to a proper state of being. The only munitions that stood out to him during his review of the Cores in the Lance was excessive amount of smart missiles. The pilot was probably making up for a taxed engine by using low power, high yield ordinance. Smart, but the sheer volume made him suspect they would chew through their missile allotment faster than they could replenish it. He had added munitions to his To Do list of logistics, mostly because of this Core in particular.

Albert muttered under his breath, putting the data pad down and leaning back in his chair, a flimsy thing he had swiped from an empty store room and moved to the main hanger for Armored Cores aboard the ship. He had a thermos of coffee with him, not even good coffee but that would be wasted on him, and a refill was currently being fetched by some unassigned junior mechanic who had thought following him around would get him experience. True to form, he was getting experience as a coffee monkey instead, Albert taking his glasses off long enough to clean them. His to-do list already included a truly involved list of parts, organized by contacts most to least willing to help, and the negotiations and concessions that would need to be made to get those deals to happen. The coffee monkey was approaching, freshly filled thermos in hand (he had two, just to keep the coffee monkey hard at work), when all hell broke loose. An alert, General Quarters, bringing all personnel to combat footing.

"Oh for fuck's sake."

Albert grumbled, pushing himself upright, downing the last of the thermos in his hand and snatching the fresh one from the coffee monkey. Who had, whether he knew it or not, been promoted. He was now messenger monkey, may his ascent in the ranks continue to be meteoric, Albert thought with a complete amount of sarcasm needed to go with it. As Albert gathered his things, thermos tucked into his tool box, he gave the messenger monkey marching orders. Albert did not have enough hands to run around gathering information or getting it organized properly, and he needed to basically be working with each maintenance team, or overworked tech, as appropriate.

"Start checking in with each Lancer's maintenance crew, get them to document NEW problems in a different list from the other pre-existing conditions. I don't care what the protocol is, I already have a running list of critical issues, but if something new happens, I need to add it to my To Do list. Off you fuck, kid."

Albert would take off towards the nearest bay, tools already in hand, because he knew damn well that, over the course of the next hour, he would be basically jumping from crisis to crisis. Whether it was assisting loading munitions, repairing issues that were not expected to become a problem this soon into their arrival in the system, patching problems that no one had even noticed, or worse besides, Albert's place in this sort of too little time to prepare scenario was basically damage control. Over the course of the hour, he was able to get the worst of the situations at least launch worthy, though as soon as he was done with that, he was starting to organize the next part of what may be necessary given how badly some of these frames were functioning right now. The comms chatter intensified as the launch time approached, and he began grabbing anyone not tasked to a specific crew and began forming his field repair and recovery team.

Something that no one ever wanted to consider was needing to go into the field, or in this case, into the void to reclaim and field repair damaged or inoperative Armored Cores, ideally after the fighting was over. Meaning that, in the midst of the chaos of Armored Cores and their support infantry launching, Albert was forming the grimly necessary salvage teams that would go in after the battle was over and begin patching Armored Cores that were disabled but, with a field patch, could make it back on their own, marking Frames that could not move even with repair for more intensive work, or in the worst cases, stripping them of anything valuable and rendering the rest inoperable. While the Lancers organized their plan of attack, Albert organized the inevitable cleanup operations that would follow, and if whatever god was listening was feeling merciful, it would not require improvising a tow system to bring them back to their respective bays. Again. At least it kept him busy, until he got roped into something ridiculous which, knowing his luck, would be inevitable.

Lancer [Mechs, Magic, and Intrigue]

I'll get a post up tomorrow evening as well, at the latest.

Lancer [Mechs, Magic, and Intrigue]

Albert Hartwig

Name: Albert Hartwig
Age: 32
Archetype: Mechanic/Scoundrel
Gender: Male
Occupation: Armored Core Upkeep, Design, and Research liaison. Logistical Support, as required.
Affiliations: New Alexandria Mechanical Academy (Graduate), Brose Arsenal (Design staff, field consultant, and engineer).
Skills and Abilities:

• Armored Core Expertise - Having been sent to the New Alexandria Mechanical Academy as early as he could be, Albert was basically raised to live and breath Armored Cores, though unlike their pilots, his role would be far more technical. He studied theory and practical designs, how to not only maintain and formally design, but unofficially patch and maintain experimental designs during field tests. Having spent his entire adult life working for the largest Armored Core design, development, and manufacturer in his home system has given him a unique outlook on the venerable machines, and that was before he was part of Brose Arsenal's first field consulting team.
• Mechanical Adaptation - Albert has been handling tools longer than he has been walking, and that is only mostly an exaggeration. Be it his normal focus in Armored Cores (which can vary from being waist deep in a malfunctioning cockpit troubleshooting faulty controls to moving, installing, and swapping spare parts and munitions with crane or powered exosuit if forced to support field bound units), supporting non Armored Core elements in their day to day operations and upkeep, or even the rare personal project, Albert knows just enough to figure out what he doesn't know in good order, especially if given freedom to act as he sees fit.
• Industrial Contacts - Albert spent his entire adult life making contacts and friends in his Academy years, and as a field consultant and engineer for Brose Arsenal and its field team expanded on these contacts. He is also willing and able to cut discreet deals, many of which can be....dubious in their legality, to make deadlines or get his hands on parts. Doubly so, when forced to work with equipment and Armored Core designs that are insistent on bleeding edge operations or hopelessly obsolete. He won't comment on where he gets his hands on his supplies and stock, but one can be assured it is functional and quality. Should parts just so happen to arrive unmarked? Albert will gladly relabel them to make them useful for official operations.

Faults and Limitations:

• Perpetual Exhaustion - Albert is already an undiagnosed (by his insistence) insomniac, getting the bare minimum of sleep and running on a constant intake of caffeine, coffee, and sheer bloody minded spite. Add in ruthless work schedules, back to back 12 hour shifts, and the constant rigors of support operations and Albert always looks one step away from collapsing from exhaustion. Technically speaking, he is at least three steps away, but it is an unavoidable condition of being in a near constant state of exhaustion that only gets worse during high stress situations.
• Mechanic's Mouth - Albert would not recognize decorum if he tripped over it, and has a nasty habit of not recognizing the need for a brain to mouth filter. The more exhausted he gets, the worse it can get, and while he might not be outright insubordinate, those expecting proper form over function will often be rudely informed by Albert that, no, their request for a complete overhaul and diagnostic sweep within the hour before deployment is not reasonable and they will hear about it. The entire time, even as he is moving heaven and earth to make it happen.

Biography: Albert Hartwig was born to a large, extended family of tinkerers, mechanics, scientists, and stark raving madmen. He was the second son of the family, though he knew more of his cousins than he ever did of his older sister, and while he had younger siblings as well, he was often too busy learning and burying himself in Armored Core designs to ever get to know them a great deal. Each member of the Hartwig extended family had some sort of obsession, being one of their most notorious qualities despite not being any sort of formal house or the like. For Albert, that was Armored Cores, for better or worse.

Growing up around a family neck deep in the military industrial complex gave him ample time to be babysat by engineers, scientists, and theoretical designers who owed favors to his parents, who would rather Albert not be around bothering them when he could be bothering people who owed them petty favors instead. Albert was not too concerned with that, engrossed with the talk and chatter of towering war machines and their mighty legions of supporting infantry and armor, while pouring over unclassified designs and historical anecdotes. His family secured him a place in the New Alexandria Mechanical Academy, which performed double duty as both a college and trade school, which he would excel at.

Albert would routinely get himself into trouble, however, given his natural inclination and talent often times outpaced those who relied on learned technique. His near constant arrival at correct answers, using the wrong methods, could have led to a more dire post academic career if it was not for family connections and a certain company that would rather have results over anything else already eying him. By the time he graduated from the Academy, he had several letters of recommendation from various family members, all pointing him towards a single company. Brose Arsenal, which was one of the up and coming big names in his home system's military industrial complex.

Rather than explore his options, Albert took the most direct path to a career he wanted, at least he thought he wanted. Immediately assigned to a team that would tour other companies and facilities, Albert would rapidly learn not just about what Brose Arsenal specialized in, and offered in terms of expertise, but also engaged in no small amount of forming connections, establishing research and cooperation deals, as well as acting as a sponsored trouble shooter and consultant for smaller firms that had something to offer Brose Arsenal that they could not otherwise get their hands on. More importantly, Albert was constantly in contact with not just Armored Core pilots, but even Lancers. Highly experimental, heavily customized, and sometimes wildly dangerous to the pilot as well as the enemy, Albert expanded his capabilities as not just a mechanic, but as supplier and source of parts and supplies for Lancers and their Core's needs.

It was this ten year stretch that both gave him the know how and skillset to attract the attention of those putting together Prince Cassian's Lance that would operate out in the Procyon Sector. For them, he would be a flexible subject matter expert on Armored Cores of varying designs and needs, as well as bringing a network of contacts that could be convinced, cajoled, or otherwise strong armed into providing supplies in a pinch. For Albert? It got him out of Brose Arsenal's direction, which he had been slowly chaffing under as his expertise and knowledge grew, having to argue and fight to continue his field work instead of taking a posting back in the home lab. Brose Arsenal, meanwhile, just saw it as a chance to establish a foothold in the Procyon Sector, approving his leave of absence for his duration of employment in Lance that Prince Cassian was sponsoring. The question of what happened if the Lance was ever dissolved was never brought up, given Albert would sooner vanish into the frontier than ever return to Brose, but no one would admit that.

Lancer [Mechs, Magic, and Intrigue]

Alright, wanted to get this sorted out before I called it an evening, figured we could use someone in a support role.

Albert Hartwig

Name: Albert Hartwig
Age: 32
Archetype: Mechanic/Scoundrel
Gender: Male
Occupation: Armored Core Upkeep, Design, and Research liaison. Logistical Support, as required.
Affiliations: New Alexandria Mechanical Academy (Graduate), Brose Arsenal (Design staff, field consultant, and engineer).
Skills and Abilities:

• Armored Core Expertise - Having been sent to the New Alexandria Mechanical Academy as early as he could be, Albert was basically raised to live and breath Armored Cores, though unlike their pilots, his role would be far more technical. He studied theory and practical designs, how to not only maintain and formally design, but unofficially patch and maintain experimental designs during field tests. Having spent his entire adult life working for the largest Armored Core design, development, and manufacturer in his home system has given him a unique outlook on the venerable machines, and that was before he was part of Brose Arsenal's first field consulting team.
• Mechanical Adaptation - Albert has been handling tools longer than he has been walking, and that is only mostly an exaggeration. Be it his normal focus in Armored Cores (which can vary from being waist deep in a malfunctioning cockpit troubleshooting faulty controls to moving, installing, and swapping spare parts and munitions with crane or powered exosuit if forced to support field bound units), supporting non Armored Core elements in their day to day operations and upkeep, or even the rare personal project, Albert knows just enough to figure out what he doesn't know in good order, especially if given freedom to act as he sees fit.
• Industrial Contacts - Albert spent his entire adult life making contacts and friends in his Academy years, and as a field consultant and engineer for Brose Arsenal and its field team expanded on these contacts. He is also willing and able to cut discreet deals, many of which can be....dubious in their legality, to make deadlines or get his hands on parts. Doubly so, when forced to work with equipment and Armored Core designs that are insistent on bleeding edge operations or hopelessly obsolete. He won't comment on where he gets his hands on his supplies and stock, but one can be assured it is functional and quality. Should parts just so happen to arrive unmarked? Albert will gladly relabel them to make them useful for official operations.

Faults and Limitations:

• Perpetual Exhaustion - Albert is already an undiagnosed (by his insistence) insomniac, getting the bare minimum of sleep and running on a constant intake of caffeine, coffee, and sheer bloody minded spite. Add in ruthless work schedules, back to back 12 hour shifts, and the constant rigors of support operations and Albert always looks one step away from collapsing from exhaustion. Technically speaking, he is at least three steps away, but it is an unavoidable condition of being in a near constant state of exhaustion that only gets worse during high stress situations.
• Mechanic's Mouth - Albert would not recognize decorum if he tripped over it, and has a nasty habit of not recognizing the need for a brain to mouth filter. The more exhausted he gets, the worse it can get, and while he might not be outright insubordinate, those expecting proper form over function will often be rudely informed by Albert that, no, their request for a complete overhaul and diagnostic sweep within the hour before deployment is not reasonable and they will hear about it. The entire time, even as he is moving heaven and earth to make it happen.

Biography: Albert Hartwig was born to a large, extended family of tinkerers, mechanics, scientists, and stark raving madmen. He was the second son of the family, though he knew more of his cousins than he ever did of his older sister, and while he had younger siblings as well, he was often too busy learning and burying himself in Armored Core designs to ever get to know them a great deal. Each member of the Hartwig extended family had some sort of obsession, being one of their most notorious qualities despite not being any sort of formal house or the like. For Albert, that was Armored Cores, for better or worse.

Growing up around a family neck deep in the military industrial complex gave him ample time to be babysat by engineers, scientists, and theoretical designers who owed favors to his parents, who would rather Albert not be around bothering them when he could be bothering people who owed them petty favors instead. Albert was not too concerned with that, engrossed with the talk and chatter of towering war machines and their mighty legions of supporting infantry and armor, while pouring over unclassified designs and historical anecdotes. His family secured him a place in the New Alexandria Mechanical Academy, which performed double duty as both a college and trade school, which he would excel at.

Albert would routinely get himself into trouble, however, given his natural inclination and talent often times outpaced those who relied on learned technique. His near constant arrival at correct answers, using the wrong methods, could have led to a more dire post academic career if it was not for family connections and a certain company that would rather have results over anything else already eying him. By the time he graduated from the Academy, he had several letters of recommendation from various family members, all pointing him towards a single company. Brose Arsenal, which was one of the up and coming big names in his home system's military industrial complex.

Rather than explore his options, Albert took the most direct path to a career he wanted, at least he thought he wanted. Immediately assigned to a team that would tour other companies and facilities, Albert would rapidly learn not just about what Brose Arsenal specialized in, and offered in terms of expertise, but also engaged in no small amount of forming connections, establishing research and cooperation deals, as well as acting as a sponsored trouble shooter and consultant for smaller firms that had something to offer Brose Arsenal that they could not otherwise get their hands on. More importantly, Albert was constantly in contact with not just Armored Core pilots, but even Lancers. Highly experimental, heavily customized, and sometimes wildly dangerous to the pilot as well as the enemy, Albert expanded his capabilities as not just a mechanic, but as supplier and source of parts and supplies for Lancers and their Core's needs.

It was this ten year stretch that both gave him the know how and skillset to attract the attention of those putting together Prince Cassian's Lance that would operate out in the Procyon Sector. For them, he would be a flexible subject matter expert on Armored Cores of varying designs and needs, as well as bringing a network of contacts that could be convinced, cajoled, or otherwise strong armed into providing supplies in a pinch. For Albert? It got him out of Brose Arsenal's direction, which he had been slowly chaffing under as his expertise and knowledge grew, having to argue and fight to continue his field work instead of taking a posting back in the home lab. Brose Arsenal, meanwhile, just saw it as a chance to establish a foothold in the Procyon Sector, approving his leave of absence for his duration of employment in Lance that Prince Cassian was sponsoring. The question of what happened if the Lance was ever dissolved was never brought up, given Albert would sooner vanish into the frontier than ever return to Brose, but no one would admit that.