To many, the mercenary life is the promise of freedom and boundless adventure, the dream of venturing forth among the stars, seeking fame and fortune and fighting the noble fight, unfettered by political schemes and the will of petty lords. To others, mercenaries are a scourge, little better than pirates, motivated only by the profit margin, schoolyard bullies who grew up to make a living terrorizing, killing, and destroying whatever and whoever their employers desire. The mercenary lifestyle is at once romanticized and vilified in the media, ever since the profession became a prominent way of life for thousands of people across the Inner Sphere. Yet what is truth, and what is fiction, about the modern soldier-for-hire?

To answer that question, I hooked up with the Seventeenth Armored Recon Company of the famous 21st Centauri Lancers mercenary command during their recent downtime on Galatea, a world known far and wide as the Mercenary’s Star. Following the exploits of these men and women, from the barrooms and negotiating tables on Galatea to the battlefields on Uhuru, it soon became apparent that these were more than mere money soldiers, more than stock heroes or villains from the tri-vids….

The Lancers originally formed over a century and a half ago from a House Liao ’Mech battalion that mutinied over unpaid wages. Taking their chances on the mercenary scene, vowing never to be taken advantage of again, they built a reputation for integrity as well as martial excellence. Since then, they have served every Great House in the Inner Sphere except Liao, bringing their own unique style both to contract negotiations and to the battle zone. In their history, they have suffered and triumphed in equal measure. Their missions, chosen very carefully and haggled fervently, may not have grabbed the headlines that flashier mercenary commands, such as the Kell Hounds and the Wolf’s Dragoons have, but there were few employers who doubted the strength of these warriors’ honesty off the field, and honorable conduct in battle.

“The [Commanding Officers] here look out for their own,” my assigned guide, Thos Cardella, told me. A huge, dark-skinned man, whose perpetual sneer belies a remarkably compassionate demeanor, Cardella began our first conversation over a round of imported Timbiqui Dark beers. “See, we left [the Capellan Confederation] in protest over money, and it’s always been on the minds of every successive CO that the troops never again find themselves begging on the streets. We’ll work for our suppers, like everyone else…but when you’re under fire, the last thing you want to hear is that the checks won’t clear for all that hard work.”

The Lancers’ contract negotiators are tough, ripping every contract offer received apart in search of hidden clauses that might entrap the mercenaries or leave them short on support. Even the placement of the command’s dependents—spouses, children, and other extended family who travel from baseworld to baseworld—is secured before a major operation is assumed. This last point is an ongoing reminder of when the Lancers themselves were hijacked by the machinations of the Word of Blake, an event that nearly shattered their sterling reputation.

“[The Blakists] captured our dependents in 3058 and basically held them at gunpoint to keep us from a contract with ComStar,” Cardella explained. “Their own troops, disguised as Lancers, then took the job on our behalf, to launch an assault on Terra. All we had to do is keep a low profile for a few months. With our people under the gun, we did that, and sure enough the Blakies kept their word, but it was a crisis that never should have happened, and now the security of our people is always part of the bargain.”

Cardella also informed me that the Lancers have always been fanatical about employer integrity. Once wronged, the mercenaries have often made it their policy to publicly announce their grievances, as loudly and as often as possible, in order to warn off any other potential employees of the offending employer. This policy, and the eagerness to enforce it, is what Cardella considers to be the unit’s ultimate trump card.

“Anyone interested in handling mercs ought to know the right way to handle them,” he adds. “Blacklisting can go both ways, after all.”

As he explained it to me, I watched firsthand the negotiations for a contract with the Lyran Commonwealth. The mission: a punitive strike (objective raid, according to the paperwork) against the Marik-Stewart Commonwealth world of Uhuru, in retaliation for an unsanctioned raid on the Lyran world of Rahne. A small objective, meant only as a reminder that military action will not be tolerated, the Lyrans nonetheless want to maintain their own security while sending the mercenaries in. Such missions are common enough, says Cardella:

“Typically, it’s a matter of government policy not to throw House troops after a minor objective like this. After all, troops waving a state banner can be construed as an invasion force, when the strike is just a ‘wake up call’ for negotiations that went awry… Nobody wants a full-blown war to come of it, and so the mercs are brought in. Raids and pirate hunting are a mercenary’s bread and butter these days.”

The contract is signed, and the mission proceeds. In the transit, I was introduced to many of the Seventeenth Armored Recon Company’s more colorful personalities, from the strict Nagelring-trained disciplinarian company commander, Richard Teigart, to the company’s flamboyant chief technician, Airia Mulvaro. Only one company was deemed necessary for the operation, with Cardella and myself along strictly as observers. The weeks of space travel dragged by with a mixture of apprehension and boredom, until landfall on Uhuru came at last.

The fighting was brief as it was fierce, with the Lancers facing a slightly smaller ’Mech and vehicle force. The Marik-Stewart forces lost four tanks and a pair of ’Mechs in the exchange, with the rest retreating from the field. On several occasions, as I rode in the cramped space behind Cardella in his Sun Cobra, I witnessed Lancer warriors holding back their fire on damaged defending units, allowing them to leave the field in peace where another commander might have shattered them for maximum effect. Given the mission guidelines, in fact, Cardella admitted that a “clean sweep” would probably make an even stronger statement for the Lancers’ Lyran employers. Still, Captain Teigart honored the withdrawal. The outmatched Marik-Stewart forces fled, leaving the objective open to capture or destruction.

When asked why after the fighting ended (and after some of my bruises healed from being thrown about a stomping BattleMech cockpit in a live combat mission), Cardella explained another aspect of mercenary philosophy, one that, while proclaimed by many other such professional soldiers, is considered gospel by those of the 21st Centauri Lancers.

“We’re not murderers and thieves,” he said simply. “We’re mercenaries, paid to do a job as best we can. Those [Marik-Stewart] warriors were there for the same reason, and faced the same risks we did. If it were you or I who had to retreat, we’d have expected the same courtesy…. Maybe it sounds like an outdated code of chivalry, but at least when they face us, even our enemies can know they’re getting a fair shake. Our business is fighting, not necessarily killing.”

Integrity, survival, and honor—three goals of the modern mercenary, and three pillars of the Centauri Lancers, a mercenary command that stands out not for the battlefield glories won, but for the professionalism they bring to a deadly business. As we enter a new age of uncertainty, perhaps others can learn from their example.

I’m Ravi Juro, INN special correspondent, Galatea.