Every Man must be Tempted

[shadowdancer]

Great story! Thanks.

[Davout73]

He had been waking up early.  It wasn't usual for him, but since he had returned from Zaniah, he found himself waking up long before the sun rose. 
At first he would lay in bed, trying to will himself back to sleep, but nothing worked, and he would get restless to the point he would wake Molly up, and she would kick him out of bed.
So he started working out again, waking up and going for a run.  At first it wasn't to far, but then distances grew, until he realized the sun had fully risen, and he was a few kilometers away from the Green.
It was an intersection, where five roads came together seemingly at random, until you realized they were logging trails, expanded into roads for the long haulers.  What gave it away were the trees, they were planted too neatly, almost perfect rows and columns.  In another ten or fifteen years, they would be ready for the harvest, and sapling planted in their place, to begin the process again.
At one point there had been some sort of structure at the intersection, but it had long since been destroyed, torn down or possibly surrendering itself to the weather.  All that remained was the concrete foundation and pad, a rectangular piece or ceramacrete that was maybe four by eight meters.  it was elevated enough that you could do some inclined exercises on it, and there was a pipe you could hook your feet under and do some situps and other exercises with.

He was in the middle of a set of situps when he heard the whine of the engine, and he didn't pay too much attention to it until it stopped, the engine turned off, and he heard a door open.  He finished his set and looked up, and saw a taller man, wearing Lyran everydays, leaning against the hood of the vehicle
"Can I help you," he asked, standing up.
"That depends," came the reply, as the man stood easily.  "Are you Colonel Andrew Davout?"
"I could be," he replied.
"My name is Karl Weisz, I'm with Section 20 of the Military Intelligence Division."  The man at the car gave a slight smile.
"Everything is in the reports, Mr. Weisz."
"With all due respect Colonel, it's not.  I was hoping you could fill in some of the blanks for me, for us really.  The periphery attacks, the numbers and systems involved, they are unprecedented sir, and we'd like to try and get some more information, maybe some actionable Intelligence from your point of view."
"Everything I needed to say, I said in my report."
"If you say so, sir."
"I do."
"I understand sir," Weisz replied, but he was already running back to the Green.

He woke up the next morning, it was still dark out.  Kissing Molly on the forehead, tucking JJ back in, he started the coffee machine, then took off.  There were few people awake at this time, those that were were security, and spent the majority of their time looking out as opposed to in, and noone bothered him as he exited the gate and began running again.  An hour or so later, he pulled up short, as he saw Mr. Weisz waiting besides his vehicle, looking at his watch.  He was still trying to figure out what to do, when Mr. Weisz turned and saw him.  By the time Weisz's upraised arm had lowered, he had turned back around, runnning towards the Green.

It went like that for a few days, He would take off running, get to the intersection, find Weisz waiting for him, and would run away.  On the seventh day, when he showed up, neither the vehicle nor Weisz was there.  There was a bag with a bottle of water, a protein bar, and a piece of paper in it.  Opening it, he saw it was a photo, and recognized it immediately, it was a satellite view of the city, with another note attached to it.
"You set the reactor to go critical, to destroy the city and hide what you really did.  Your friend Jacob Lannes stayed behind and held them off. 
I know why, Colonel, and if I were in your cockpit, I would have done the same.  I am not interested in that, I am interested in Barrington, and those supporting him.  If you do not want to talk here, that is fine. Call the numbewr below, tell me when and where, and I will meet you."

* * * * *

"Warrant Greaves," Andrew said after knocking on the door to the Intel chiefs office.  "What can you tell me about Section 20?"
Greaves almost spit out his coffee, set the mug down hard enough that some of what was inside splashed on his desk, and aftewr swallowing then coughing for a few seconds, waved the Colonel in.
"Shut the door sir.  Lock it please."  Andrew came in and obliged the warrant, whjo reached into a desk drawer and pulled out not one, but three different small pieces of electronics.  After turning them all on, he sat back down.
"Section 20 is somewhat of a misnomer.  It's actually Section XX, the number 20 is derived from the Latin numeral X, which is 10, double X being 20."
"How come I've never heard of them?"
"Because you aren't supposed to.  They're intel, but they aren't field agents, counter agents, or anything like that.  They're...data hounds.  Cryptographers, forensic accountants, tea leaf readers.  They sift thru zetabytes of data, and look for patterns, cause and effect actions, make predictive models, educated guesses, and from time to time to time some WAGS as well."
"Are they good at what they do?"
Greaves held his hand out and waggled it back and forth.
"They hit more than they miss.  DCMS troop rotations before the 4th were something they noticed first, before anyone else.  They sifted thru the data and came up with the intel used for the LCAF Deep raid in 2987, and they predicted the Marik Raids in 3006, down to the units involved."
"Did they predict what's going on the periphery now?"
Greaves paused before answering.
"Most of it.  They had a lot of the dots connected, but they didn't see the whole picture.  Given time and distances involved, you are bound to miss somethings, put somethings together too late.  The person running it now, he's a big believer in going back thru the data and trying top fill in the blanks."
"So if someone from Section 20 shows up saying they want to talk to me?"
"It means they've read the tea leaves sir, and they have 90 percent of the story, and they want the other 10%, and they'd rather get that 10% from someone who knows it rather than make something up to fit a narrative."
Andrew nodded to himself for a few seconds.
"How long did you work for them?" he asked Greaves, who took a few moments before responding.
"I didn't sir, I was down the hall and to the left for eight years until I left."
Andrew stood and nodded.
"Appreciate the help, Warrant.  If you would make a discrete inquiry to your friends still in Section 20 I would appreciate it."
"I can try sir," Greaves replied.  He waited until the Colonel had shut the door and left before turning the devices off. 
"What did I miss?" he asked himself, turning his system on, and pulling up his own reports of what had happened.   Eight hours later he was still pouring thru reports, trying to figure out how to put a puzzle together, with no ideas if you had all the correct pieces and no photo for reference.

Thanks for Reading!

Dav   

[Daryk]

A post!  Hooray!  :thumbsup:

[mikecj]

XX is also double cross :)

But I like where this is going, thanks!

[Davout73]

It was a dream.

He knew it was a dream because the sky was too blue, the clouds were to white, everything was crisp and clean, even the air.  He was walking, and he recognized the hills he was going thru, except this time they weren't torn up by the footprints and tracks of retreating vehicles.  There were three columns of smoke ahead, thin tendrils scarring the sky, and he kept walking.
He heard voices behind behind him, loud but indistinct.  He ignored them, and kept walking forward.  His clothes changed, from the off duty uniform the Angels wore, to his mechsuit, which was ripped and torn, pitted with small burns.  The hill was closer.
"Sir, you can't," Sar Major Lannes was standing in front of him, wounded and bloody.
"I have to," he said.
"You don't want to," Lannes repeated, his one good eye blazing.
"I Need to Sar Major," he said, shouldering his friend aside and moving forward. 
He tripped, or was tripped, and fell to his hands and knees, and crawled, kicking at the hand holding him back.  Scrambling forward, he crested the slope of the hill, and cried out in pain.

* * * * *

He sat straight up, shaking, covered in a cold sweat.  He was on the couch, lately he had not been sleeping next to Molly, he was afraid of hurting her, but it had only widened the ever growing gap between them.  People were starting to notice, and the rumbles were heard.  He looked around, making sure he hadn't woken anyone else up, and then stood up, stretching.  It was an hour or so before sunrise, and after checking in on molly and JJ, he went to the bathroom to shave.  After splashing his face with water, he looked into the mirror and stepped back in shock, the bloody face of Jacob Lannes staring back at him.  He blinked hard, and shook his head, and his friends face went away.  Instead of shaving, he went and dressed, went outside, and started running.

* * * * * *

He was bent over, retching again, when he heard the voice.
"Trying to outrun your demons, Colonel?"
He looked up, and saw Karl Weisz standing a few feet away.  He couldn't help it, he smiled.
"Something funny, Colonel?"
"Didn't expect to see you here," Davout said.  standing up and wiping his mouth.  He saw Weisz dig around in the satchel he was carrying, and come out with a bottle of water, which he offered to Davout.
"Thanks," Andrew said, catching it smartly, and downing almost all of it in one go.

They stood quietly for a minute, looking at each other.
"I'll leave you to it, Colonel-"
"Barrington killed my friends," Davout said, interrupting him.
"I know that Colonel," Weisz said after a moment.
"No, you don't understand.  They had surrendered.  They were the rear guard, they held up Barrington's command lance and company, gave the rest of us time to get away, regroup, rearm.  They surrendered.  That was Johnny's last request, he wanted my permission to surrender, and I gave it.  And I don't know why."
"There's rules involved-"
"Only if both sides are playing by the rules.  And Barrington wasn't."
Weisz didn't reply, just nodded in return.
"They surrendered.  Were willing to be dispossessed, taken prisoner, and ransomed.  And I would have paid most anything for them.  Barrington knew that."
"And he killed them after receiving the ransom?"
Andrew looked at him, then looked away for a few moments.
"No, he crucified them before I could even make the offer."
Weisz was staring at him.
"And the bastard left a recording..."

* * * * *

The Leopard was 11th Arcturan.  It had landed at the far end of the field, the crew had come in and joined those at the mess, RUMINT said both the Angels and Lyrans were going to start dropping smaller units in and around where Barrington had retreated too, harrassing him and keeping him pinned in.  One mech, a heavily modified Zeus, walked up to the Drop ship, turned around, and walked in backwards.  A few minutes later, another mech appeared out of the kaserne, a Quickdraw.

"Take it back," Davout said, watching as the Quickdraw got closer.
"Sir," Lannes voice came back, "I say this with the utmost respect, but go screw yourself.  I'm coming with you."
"Why?"
"Because it's the only way you're coming back."
"No."
"Again, go screw yourself Sir.  Your making this to personal."
"And you aren't?"
"I got less than a year to live anyways.  You got a wife, a kid, and a unit to look after."

There was a staring contest between the two men, friends, brothers who had shed blood for each other on numerous battlefields for lord knows why, two powerful wills having an unspoken battle of words.
Davout blinked first, then walked away as the door closed over the Quickdraw.

* * * * *

The rumble shook the control tower, and it took the ATC on duty by surprise.  He checked his comp before looking up at the clouds of exhaust and dust in the distance.
"Rodeo Two Two Six, you are not cleared for takeoff, shut down and return your pad."  He radioed.  Silence answered him.  "Rode Two Two Six, this is Air Con Actual, you are ordered to return-"  he stopped talking, watching the aerodynamic brick of a vehicle rise on plasma flames, then it started to move forward slowly, then faster until it was a speck in the distance.
"All traffic, all traffic, this is Air Con Actual, I have an unauthorized departure, Rodeo Two Two Six bearing approximately zero 45, please confirm if you have visual."
"ATC, this is Reaver Two Six, I am approximately 45 klicks away, I do not see anything heading to sub orbital or orbital on that vector."
"Negative Reaver Two Six, Rodeo Two Two Six was not headed to Orbit, he was approximately 300 meter's height."
"Then he's still flying it, Tower, I've got nothing on my sensors above 500 meter's for 40 clicks."
There was a distinct pause, then "Copy that Reaver Two Six.  I want you to climb to three thousand meters, and start an orbit pattern above the field, keep you sensors trained on the 45 degree axis."
"Copy tower, climbing to three thousand meters, will advicse when we have started our sweeop.
"Affirm, Reaver Two Six."
The officer in the tower put the headset on the table in front of him, then picked up the phone and dialed.
"Kommandant Byrne, this is Hauptmann Pierce, we have an unauthorized departure..."

* * * * *

"Three minutes."  Davout's stomach lurched as the Leopard went up and left and then down and right.  He clicked his microphone in reply while trying to hold what was left in his stomach in.
"Two minutes, one minute to climb."  The dull roar that had been ever present the last thirty minutes increased.
An alarm drowned out the engine, and the the comms came alive.
"We're being lased!"
"LAUNCH!  I HAVE A LAUNCH PORT SIDE REAR, MULTIPLE INBOUND!"
The pilot cursed.
"ALL HANDS BRACE FOR HARD LANDING!"

The dropship was flying to low.  It lacked the aerodynamics to maneuver quickly, and there was only one thing the pilot could do that had any chance of them missing:  He had to generate a miss, and that meant crashing the dropship.  Deliberately.

His head was pounding, his vision blurry, but the sound had died down, that or he was deaf.
"Andrew?  You OK over there?"
Shaking he head to clear it of the cobwebs, he finally keyed his mike.
"Yes, Sar Major. Sit Rep?"
"We took at least two hits.  I can't get a of anyone on the flightdeck to answer.  There's a fire somewhere, but I can't see it."
"How's your mech."
"Five by Five sir."
"Can you release?"
"Yes Sir, you?"
Davout hit a button, and looked out his cockpit.  The clamp over his mechs left shoulder opened up and moved back.  The one over his right just opened up.  It would slow him down, but not stop him.
"Thats affirm.  Lets get this party started Sar Major."  He raised his mechs arms, and toggled the triggers.

* * * * *

Everyone had been on edge since the commando's had come thru and wiped out most of the senior command structure.  When Barrington came back from the field he ranted and raved, put more than a few of their advisors against a wall and pulled the trigger himself.  It didn't help he was seeing things in shadows that weren't there, it was that everyone was seeing thigs ins shadows.  With most of the fields either burned, or the irrigation equipment for the destroyed, food was already getting tight, as well as fresh water.  The last thing anyone expected was a Leopard Dropship flying nape of the earth to come right at them, but in this case, someones paranoia paid ofk as the SAM battery commander had left his sensors on, saw the dropship flying over and launched.
Captain Hollis led a group of soldiers across the tarmac, running as fast as they could.  The dropship had landed upright, one wing had sheared off, and tendrils of smoke and flame had erupted from several cracks and holes on top of the vehicle.  His troops slowed down and spread out as they got closer, behind him a pair of Vedettes were coming at full speed, turrets tracking back and forth.
There was a noise from inside the ship, a loud groaning sound, and then with a loud bang, the door in front of one of the drop capsules exploded of the hinges, went flying over the first group of soldiers and into the second, killing many of them before they realized what happened.  Hollis watched in morbid fascination as a platoon of infantry was reduced to blood, bones and pulp in less than five seconds.
"OPEN FIRE" a voice called out, and the night air was filled with the sound of automatic rifle and laser fire.
"MECHS!" another voice called out.
Hollis dropped the handset he had picked up, and watched as a Quickdraw stepped out, and launched a flight of LRM's at the Vedettes.  Then it turned and seemed to look right at him.  Paralyzed with fear, Hollis could only watch as the SRM's flew out of their launcher towards him and his squad.  His brain saw they were going to land short, but his brain also told him that and explosion and resulting shrapnel would kill him, and he better make himself as small as possible.
Throwing himself to the tarmac, calling out for his platoon to do that same, he watched as the first missile hit the ground, and then realized that there wasn't the usual explosion, but instead a wall of flame headed right towards him.  He had barely registered that the missile were Inferno Rounds, and while he was drawing in breath to warn his soldiers, the flame washed over him, his vehicle and its crew, killing them all.

Pt. 2 to follow in a few days.  feel free to message me if I don't post it.

Thanks for reading,

Dav

[Daryk]

Being it's going to cost at least a Leopard, they BETTER get Barrington!  :o

[Davout73]

Long Story Short:  Life happens. 

This will probably be my last entry in the KNT universe for awhile, while I would love to go back and play in it, and feel there are a lot of stories left to tell, I have other priorities at the moment, and I do not know if and when I would be fully able to commit to what needs to be done for me to keep creating.  That said I have been very lucky to create something a lot of people have enjoyed, and hopefully future readers will enjoy as well.   Thanks for reading and participating!

HE didn't know how long he was out,s omething had slammed against the side of his mechs head, and the feedback was more than enough for his brain to cope in the best way it knew how, it knocked him out.  He didn't shake his head, previous experience had told him it would be a bad idea, instead taking a few moments to gather himself, listening to the sound of the rain hitting his cockpit glass.
The he realized that it wasn’t raining, its was bullets that were hitting the thick plexi, and from the looks of it, a few more impacts in the right place and he would be in trouble.  He levered the Zeus up, the mech rocking from another autocannon hit fired by a Vedette that was rapidly trying to back away away, a squad of rifleman running by it.  A Large laser and SRM salvo later, the Vedettes turret was spinning thru the air, a sheet of flame and sympathetic detonations following it, the soliders lying on the concrete wounded or worse.
When he turned back towards the compound, all he saw were dead bodies, burning vehicles and buildings, and a Quickdraw limping on a fused knee.
"Davout!"  The radio sparked to life, an open frequency.  He knew the voice instantly.  Gone was the taunting arrogance from the Valley.
"Davout!" Barringtons voice was pitching higher.
"I'm going to kill you Barringon."
"You going to kill all the hostages I have with me?"
"They aren't my people.  I don't care about them."
"You care about the people in the city?"
Davout stopped his walk, as the Quickdraw came closer.
"I'm in the reactor control room," Barrington said.  "My...associates were kind enough to bring it online after your friend caused the local power plant to shut down.  I hit a button, it goes critical.  And everyone dies."
"Including you.  Good."
Andrew started walking his machine towards the building his intel had told him was the bases reactor building.  Given it's shape, obviously thicker create walls, low cooling tower and the size of the power cables coming out of it, there was little else the building could be.
The air was quiet, the snap of the occasional round going off because of nearby heat and the crackling of the numerous fires around him all he heard over the hum of his mechs own reactor.
"You let me live, I'll tell you everything you want to know about my...benefactors."
That brought Davout up short.  Given what they had run into, including the mech Barrington himself had been piloting, and some of the other reports going around, that could be some very good information.
"Sir, A word in private?" Lannes voice came over another channel.  Davout flipped to it.
"I don't trust him sir."
"I don't either Jacob, but information is information."
"And if he's lying?"
"Then he's lying."
"I can't live with that, can you?"
Davout thought about it for a few  moments.
"There's the individual Kearney has sir."  Lannes voice was quiet, barely loud enough to be heard.
Davout sat and thought.
"I trust Kearney more than I trust that piece of trash in there sir."
Davout nodded in agreement, and switched back to the other channel.
"-EAN IT COLONEL, I WILL BLOW UP THIS ENTIRE FACILITY IF YOU DON'T GIVE ME WHAT I WANT!"  Barrington's voice was well on the edge of sanity, and Davout heard more than felt the spittle directed at him.
"Can we go in there and root him out?" Davout asked
"Not by ourselves sir."
"Call in the reinforcements then."
"They don't know where we are, and we can't contact them, we destroyed the one transmitter strong enough to reach the base."  As if on cue the remains of the communications tower blew up, adding more flames and smoke to the night sky.
"WHAT'S YOUR ANSWER COLONEL?" Barrington demanded.
"Sir.  Andrew."
He couldn't help it, it was the first time in almost a decade he had hear Lannes use his first name.
"Tell Molly I love her."
Davout was still processing what Lannes had said when the Quickdraw's leg connected with his own.  Not expecting the sudden physical attack, and still suffering from the previous bellringer, Andrew fell, helped along by a fist that Lannes landed on his shoulder.  The Zeus didn't really have a neck, but the impact of the 60 ton mechs impact shook him in his straps, and the nausea almost caused him to pass out again.  By the time he had recovered enough of his sense to sit up, the Quickdraw had already risen on plasma flames, and plummeted thru the small cooling tower atop the building.  Laser fire, muted explosions, and then a larger explosion shook the ground, followed by more firing and explosions, which stopped only when a section of the cooling tower broke of and crashed inwards.  A sensor in the cockpit started blaring.
"Andrew..." Lannes voice coughed.  "He's dead.  They're all dead.  Now Run."  Davout took one look at the blaring sensor and ran.

The Zeus wasn't the quickest mech in the Inner Sphere, and while the ground wasn't flat it was mostly clear, and Davout was willing the mech to do more than the 60 kph it was doing. 
Night became day, and he threw the mech face down on the ground, covering the top and back of his head as best as he could. Even with his eyes shut as tightly as he could manage, he still saw sunlight.  A few seconds later he felt the rumble thru the ground, and then the 80 ton mech was lifted into the air, before crashing back down, and a few seconds after that, a wall of sound and fury washed over him.  When the ground stopped shaking, he levered his unit back up, took a compass reading, and moved as fast as he could towards it, ignoring the mushroom cloud rising in the night sky behind him.  And hour later his own reactor sensors start going off, the blast wave had apparently taken of what remaining rear armor he had, and damaged his own reactors shielding.  He ran as fast as he could as long as he could, until the sun was rising, and the reactor was critical.  Grabbing his survival kit, his weapon, and with one last pat on the control panel, he kicked the emergency ladder out of the cockpit, lowered himself to the ground as fast as he could, and started running.  Ten minutes later he heard the explosion behind him.


* * * * *

"And that’s what happened Mr. Weisz."  Andrew finished telling his story, and finished off the bottle of water he had taken from the youthful looking intelligence officer.
"I see," Weisz hadn't taken any notes, nor did he have a recorder on him.  Instead he sat opposite Davout on another bench, listening intently the entire time."
"And the other asset you acquired?" he finally asked.
"Can't tell you.  OPSEC and a few other rules are in play."
Weisz was quiet, as if thinking to himself, then nodded and stood up.  Davout stood up a moment later.
"Do you have plans for this evening?"
Weisz looked at him and shook his head.
"Fiddler's Green, 1630.  Your pass will be at the security gate."  Davout turned around and took off at a rune before Weisz could answer.

* * * * *

The guards let him thru without a problem, he parked his rental vehicle, and as he got out he saw Davout walk out of converted conex container and wave.  He waved back, feeling a little ridiculous as he did, but Davout handed him a badge, which he clipped to his jacket, and they they were going back thru the conex and into the Angels base.
It did not look like a military installation, the style of the houses and location of some of the other buildings didn't fit was he was used to, but a practiced eye could see fields of fire, defensive positions, potential emplacements.  He felt a presence behind him, and glanced over his shoulder, and saw two very competent looking infantrymen walking a discrete distance away from them.  Davout said hi to more than a few people as they walked by him, and the infantry platoon that ran by gave a loud "GOOD AFTERNOON SIR!" as they ran by as well.  A few minutes later, after cresting a small hill, the lake was before them.  There were some temporary stands being constructed, and something large and covered with cloth near the waters edge.

Davout made a motion with his hands, and it took Weisz a minute to realize that they were alone, walking along the shoreline.
"I met your mother once, on Hesperus in '19" Davout said, hands in his pocket.
Karl stopped walking.  "My...mother, Colonel?"
"Colonel Sarah Weisz, commander of Delta Regiment, of the Wolf Dragoons.  I met her after the Battle of Tanada's Crossing on Hesperus, my company was thrown in with the Roughriders to stop them from reaching the factories.  It was a prisoner exchange, well after the fighting had stopped and the Wolves were in the process of retreating off planet.  You have her eye's," Davout smiled as he waved his hand in front of his face.  "How is she?"
"She's...doing well, all things considered.  Trying to enjoy retirement on Outreach."
Davout nodded. "Why are you here?" he asked.
"I've been tasked to investigate whats been going on in Lyran border with regards to pirate activity."
"By?"
"Our employer Sir."  It wasn't exactly a lie, and Davout was smart enough to know that Duke Ridzik had little if any interest in the extreme borders of a neighboring Star Nation.
"You were on Robinson?" Davout asked, starting to walk on the waters edge again.  Weisz paused before catching up.
"Yes.  I was party of the Artillery Spotting Group, then the Home Guard."
They walked in silence for a minute.
"Why?" Davout asked, and Weisz knew the unspoken question.
"The past ten years have see more change politically, militarily, and economically than the last 100.  There are a lot of wheels within wheels moving, hidden friends, open enemies.  RUMINT says the Federated Commonwealth is going to make a move within the next ten years against the Capellans or the Combine. Or Both.  We can’t afford to be caught unawares again."
They walked in silence a little longer, at one point Davout reached down and picked up a flat rock, and with an effortless flow threw it across the lake, watching as it skipped and bounced over the water before sinking.
"I'll make you a deal.  What rank do you hold now?"
"Captain.  I am a captain now.  Sir."
"I'll make you a deal Captain Weisz.  Or rather, your unit a deal."
Weisz was silent for a moment, then nodded his head.
"Trade for trade.  You give us most of what you know, we give you most of what we know.  We share that with the others involved.   Given the number of attacks all around, what your doing is intel gathering, and thats a good thing, but it’s useless unless it gets back to the people that need it, especially after all the  layers of bureaucrap it goes thru in some places.  Share with the others, get another perspective or three.  Maybe someone else somewhere sees something we don't."
"Their is a common thread in more than one report Colonel Davout."
Davout nodded, then looked back at the stands behind them.  They were slowly filling up, with more people headed towards them.
"I know.  It bother me too.  That's my offer Captain.  We have to head back." he said, looking at the younger man.  Weisz nodded almost imperceptibly, and then followed Davout back towards the crowd of people.

* * * * *

Davout was waving everyone back down to sit after a senior noncom had called everyone to attention.  Clipping on a microphone, he went over and kissed his wife, rubbed his sons hair, and after gesturing for the Captain to sit by his wife, he went and stood in front of the covered structure.

"IS this on yes it is," he said with a smile. "Any issues hearing me?  No? Good."  He walked around for a moment, then held his hands in front of him.
"My Family has grown a lot these last 15 years.  At one point, I knew everyones name, now I'm lucky I remember what I had for breakfast last week." he said with a smile, which was followed by polite laughter.
"They say Family is where your loved ones are, Family is what you come home to, that you will fight for family harder than you will for the state, or its leaders."  He looked at Weisz as he said the last.
"We didn't, that is most of us didn't, choose to fight for money, or glory, or little pieces of ribbon.  Ultimately, what we fight for are those you see around you right now, and those that came before them, and who will follow them.  But a family, while it is a Home, needs something more...permanent.  Mr. Collingswood?  Can you come down please?"
It took a few minutes, but an elderly man married to one of the senior dropship technicians made his was down to where the colonel was standing.
"A few years ago, Mr. Collingwood was nominated and voted in as the Civilian representative of the unit.  I wanted to inform him, and you, that as of 1700 hours, that position is no longer required, and Mr. Collingwoods services are needed in another position."  There was some outcry, especially from many of the dependents in the crowd.  Even Collingwood looked mad.
Davout held his hand us, and reached into a jacket pocket, pulling out a scroll of paper.
"This," Davout. said, holding the paper up as the crowd quieted down, "Is the legal paperwork affirming the creation of the Town of Fiddler's Green, constituted as of this date, and registered in  Summerville, and on Skye and Tharkad.
“Mr. Collingwood, Fiddler's Green needs a Mayor, do you accept?" He held out the scroll to the older man, who looked at him for a moment, then grabbed it, momentarily surprised when the Colonel didn't let go.
"I call for a voice vote in the matter, those in favor of Mr. Collingswood becoming mayor say AYE!"
The sound back was almost a roar, and after letting go of the scroll, he made a motion for the new Mayor to stay. 
"Your first act is going to be the formation of a council, Mayor Collingswood," Davout said, reaching into his breast pocket again.  This time he had a small chip case in his hand.
"The finances of the last contract have been settled, as have the wills and testaments of those who are no longer with us.  In addition to those stipulations, and my families own contribution," he nodded at Molly, who was struggling holding a restless JJ in her lap, "The Fallen Angels Fund has purchased approximately 8700 hectacres of land surrounding Fiddlers Green, to include the water, mineral and other resources rights in perpetuity.  The details are on the chip."  This time the crowd was silent, as Mr, no Mayor, Collingswood accepted the chip, and then walked back to his spot in the stands, looking to be on the verge of tears.  The realization of what had just happened started a low murmur in the crowd, one that was getting louder until Davout coughed lightly and had then attention of everyone.
"That is not the only reason we are here today," Davout said, after a few moments of silence.
"Many of you do not know the name Margrite Voelker," he said, pausing to touch the cross around his neck.  "She was the young lady, on Delacour, who gave us our name, the Furious Angels," he paused for a moment, than looked back up.  "Angels are thought of in different ways.  Some religions treat them as benevolent and kind.  Others treat them as God's warriors, horrible beings full of righteous hate, anger, justice.  Beautiful, charismatic, ugly, fearsome, terrifying in their glory..."
"As the commander of this unit, I have made decisions I am not proud of, decisions I am not comfortable with, given commands that have led people to their death, and have caused people to leave the unit, but that is my burden and one I accept.  But we would not be here today without those individuals, many of whom are no longer with us.  Despite their lack of physical presence among us, they are with us, in name, in deed, in spirit.  But we have grown to the point where not everyone knows of them, and that saddens me.  These men and women are one of the pillars that make us a family, the honored dead, and we should remember them, because they did some very courageous things.  Some gave their lives to protect others, some gave their lives to stop others, some became the monsters we need to be in order to defeat our enemies, others became the Monsters we need them to be in order to protect us."

He stopped speaking for a moment, the stands quiet.

"Yes, makin' mock o' uniforms that guard you while you sleep
Is cheaper than them uniforms, an' they're starvation cheap;
An' hustlin' drunken soldiers when they're goin' large a bit
Is five times better business than paradin' in full kit.
Then it's Tommy this, an' Tommy that, an' "Tommy, 'ow's yer soul?"
But it's "Thin red line of 'eroes" when the drums begin to roll,
The drums begin to roll, my boys, the drums begin to roll,
O it's "Thin red line of 'eroes" when the drums begin to roll."

More than a few soldiers smiled at the Kipling verse, 1000 years later the words were as true as when they were written.

"Or, in a more modern vernacular, People sleep peacefully in their beds at night because rough men stand ready to do violence on those that would harm us," Davout said, looking around the stands.  "And while some people believe we commit those acts for a few credits, we know better.  And the people who have gone before us knew better as well.  I think we started to get away from that after the Fourth, and the recent campaign and it's aftermath told me that we had.  We forgot why we do this, and who we do this for.  And that is my fault.  And this is how we fix that situation."  He reached over and undid a couple of snaps, and with a short, powerful tug, the canvas came away.

It was a statue, of marble. A Smooth square on the bottom, then about four feet up, breaking away into a pair of legs.  A mechwarrior, kit torn in places, in his arms cradling a young woman, dress burned, headship torn, stands of hair falling out, the warriors face was plain, the eyes looking towards the heaven, as the wings on his back lifted them skyward.  Davout stepped away, and you could see the smaller inscriptions on the front.

"Inscribed here are the names of the men and women who have died while wearing the crest of the unit.  If you want to know more about their story, in a few months over by the mess hall there will be a small building, where you can record a story about a name on the memorial here, or read or listen to stories about a name on here.  The names on here, Gouvion Bessieres, Jason Suvarov, Alan Bernadotte, Owen Friesland, Jenna Mitchell, countless others, died not because they were chasing a paycheck, not because of love of country, but for those next to them, and those behind them.  From this day forward, we remember their sacrifices, and why they made them, and we hope that if and when it becomes out time, we can make the same decision, and our friends will welcome us to the hearth,  with fiddles and dance waiting.

"We do not seek glory, we do not seek death, we protect those the need it, fight for those that can't, and if the situation calls for it, become the Angels of Death and Destruction to fulfill our mission.  The names on this statue, and there will be more added over time, including my own someday, did those things before us, and we would dishonor them by not trying to live up to the example we set.  I do not know what the future holds, I do not know what it brings, but I make this promise, on behalf of myself and the senior leadership of the unit, we will do our best to do right by you, and right by them," he gestured to the names on the front, "And God help those who expect us to do or say otherwise, because they will feel the full fury and righteous anger of the Furious Angels!"  The last part was a yell, and was answered in kind by the assembly in front of him, almost a thousand voices roaring in their agreement.

"Seyla," whispered Weisz, his word lost in the noise.

[EAGLE 7]

Davout73,

Best of luck in your endeavors, and thank you for the hours of stories and maps you shared with us.