Okay, so some time back I wrote up this bit of fiction as a mecha campaign intro to use to both tempt players and to set the tone. Later I did alternative versions of it. I'll post those later, but here's the original one:
Let Them Eat Cake...
Through the viewport you can see your new home away from home, the Light Mecha Carrier "Prince Zaporizhye" orbiting above Sirenus III. The transport carrying you and your mecha docks with the large ship. The crewmen look on with accustomed respect as you and your unit stroll out of the docking tube with your new dress uniforms and rapiers. The mecha pilot wings on your chest and gold epaulettes on your shoulders proclaim your status: Mecha Knight. Once a Mecha Squire on a small, rural plant, now an officer serving the Empire's latest Crusade.
It was only a few weeks ago that you held up your serving of cake at lunch in the grand hall of your family's castle on Trantus IV and remarked that you were getting a bit tired of cake. Meals at the estate tended to be tedious, formal affairs--not a chic as you might find at estates in the core worlds of the empire, but one must make the best effort one can. As the family's income came from the large grain-producing farms of this largely agricultural world, cake was served at every meal as a reminder. You were just trying to make conversation but unfortunately for you Uncle Ivan, your humorless mentor and ardent Imperial Navy veteran, was right behind you.
You and the other levy-recruits from the fiefs on your world gather on the mecha hangar deck. An officer approaches. His immaculate space-black uniform and large gold and silver epaulettes immediately identify him as a Lieutenant-Commander and member of the ship's Command Staff. "Quiet, if you please gentlemen", he says in a polite but firm voice. He applies an icy stare to still the last few chatterers. The Lieutenant-Commander looks you over casually for a moment with a mixture of boredom and amusement. "Commodore Count Grigory Alexandrovich Kutusov, commander of this ship and this task force, welcomes you aboard. I am his adjutant, Lieutenant-Commander Orlov. The Commodore is pleased to see your prompt response to the Emperor's call to his vassals to join the latest crusade against the heretics and their alien bedfellows in this sector. Your personal mecha are being brought aboard and will be placed in the suite of bays set aside for your contingent. You will be joining the distinguished noble Golden Lions, well-connected at court, mind you, as well as a unit of common mercenaries under contract to the Imperium. Commodore Count Kutusov also sends his complements and requests the pleasure of your company at dinner in the Captain's Mess this evening at 2700 hours for the formal welcome dinner. The ship's Chief Steward will come by your personal accommodation suites later to arrange payment of your subscription to the Officer's Mess and for contributions to the mess' wine cellar. Oh, and one more thing. The Commodore does rather frown on dueling." The Lieutenant-Commodore, turns smartly and leaves the deck.
As you begin looking around for the way to your quarters, an overly cultured voice behind you drawls "Trantus IV, that rather...rural, isn't it?" "Oh yes," says another "I believe they raise swine there!" A short burst of laughter follows. Looking over your shoulder you see a handful of junior officers like yourselves wearing brilliant uniforms of golden-yellow with black cuffs, collars, and piping. By the color of their uniforms and high quality champagne classes in their hands you guess that they must be the well-connected Golden Lions. Ignoring them, you and your friends pick up your bags and head for a likely-looking companionway. Behind you one of the Lions, incredulous, says "Look at that, they're even carrying their own luggage!" Peals of laughter follow you as you exit.