Harsh Terrain Test Centre, Sabik
Lone Star Province, Terran Hegemony
18 February 2776
“Alright ladies and gentlemen, settle down.” Ethan glared around the command centre. “You can gossip about politics in your own time, right now we have a job to do.”
“Respectfully, sir, we just got done cleaning this place up and now we have to hand it over to Keith Cameron’s glorified militia?”
“That’s enough, Major Cage. The soldiers of the Hegemony Armed Forces were part of the SLDF last month. They were our comrades in arms then and as far as I – or any one of you – is concerned, that hasn’t changed.” He forced a grin. “Besides, is there anyone in the brigade that actually wants to stay on Sabik?”
The battalion commander snorted. “Okay, fair point.”
The 225th was scattered across three star systems right now and Ethan’s brigade – or rather, two regiments of it plus two infantry battalions from Third Brigade, Pritchard’s tanks and a team of engineers – had been sent to oversee the evacuation of most of the tiny population.
Orbiting twin stars, Sabik was a backwater primarily valuable for a strategic position near both the Draconis Combine and the Lyran Commonwealth. The native terrain had been resistant to terraforming and the massive gravitational forces of the two stars left it an impractical month and a half from any standard jump point. The SLDF had managed to get the brigade’s transports in through a pirate point but the civilians would be in for a long voyage.
“Not even the civvies want to be here,” Pritchard noted. “We’re going to be looking at three military bases – what’s left of them after the nukes that dropped on the Castle Brian and SpecFor Command’s base – and maybe enough of a population to feed a small garrison besides themselves.”
“Conveniently that isn’t our problem.” Ethan studied the map. “Major Cage, I want you to do one more sweep of the northern belt and make sure that anyone staying is doing so of their own accord. The next convoy out leaves in a week and that’ll take us down to only fifty thousand people left on Sabik. And drop off another six months’ worth of survival rations – the margin for the next season’s crop up there isn’t as wide as I’d like.”
“Okay, I’ll get them netted up on the back of our ‘Mechs,” agreed Stephan Cage. “It’ll leave the warehouses a bit empty.”
“We’ll likely need the warehouses as we shuffle the loading around the new garrison’s equipment and supplies being landed.”
Pritchard walked over and craned her neck to try to read the orders. “Who’s being sent here?”
“The 246th Hegemony Hussars,” Ethan answered. “Looks like they’re about half of what’s left of the old 246th Royal BattleMech Division.” Once part of the LVIII Corps, the 246th had scraped together a single brigade when the Corps was disbanded in 2767 and formed part of a provisional division in LXXI Corps before that was similarly dissolved. They’d wound up in LIII Corps, the last of the three original Corps that had made up Seventh Army – the rest of the army’s current strength had been transferred in as forces in rear-areas were stripped of combat units.
She shook her head. “The Saffel Division? They’ve been rocky for years. What’s happening to the other half?”
“That would be what passes for the good news. Major General Miller has sent word that they’re our long-awaited replacement personnel and equipment. We’ll be hooking up with them on Lambrecht.”
Cage snorted, “Do you think it might be less of a shit-hole?”
“I haven’t had a briefing on it yet.” Ethan pushed his chair off from the desk and let it coast him over to one of the databanks around the command centre. “Lambrecht,” he murmured, entering the name into a search engine. “Major trading world with the Draconis Combine, ouch, that’s not exactly current for events. Ah, here we are. Bypassed in Army Group Thirteen’s original campaigns within the Hegemony, Rim Worlds pulled off after slighting the remaining fortifications with demolition nukes and… Christ, what does it say that I’m reading this as ‘the usual atrocities’?”
“Does it say that?”
Ethan shook his head. “No.” He closed the file. “But nuking city centres – which isn’t even denying us military resources, they were mostly banking and legal institutions not factories – and systematically smashing the fisheries with orbital fire from the warships escorting the transports carrying troops away… When did that become normal?”
“You’re thinking the wrong question,” Pritchard gave him what passed for a sympathetic look. “What you need to ask is ‘how do we not make this normal’?”
“Was it like this in the Periphery?” Cage asked them.
Ethan blinked. “I wasn’t out of training back then.”
“It varied. Mostly they remembered that the cities were their cities,” Pritchard observed. “But Don Chapman was told me the fighting around Panama reminded him of New Ganymede, so it could get pretty bad.”
Cage shook his head. “And to think we might be going back there.”
“What?” exclaimed the tanker.
“You didn’t hear? The new Director-General had that as one of his two big policy calls when he was campaigning for office. Rebuild the Hegemony Armed Forces and finish dragging the Periphery back into the Star League.”
Ethan looked at Pritchard. “I guess I should have been paying more attention to politics,” he said grudgingly. “It’s not like we haven’t got enough to worry about here?”
“It’s a ****** awful idea,” Pritchard added. “I mean, they’ve had eight years to get their defences back together and the SLDF’s got maybe half the ships and divisions we had back then.”
“True, although I’d say we have better troops head for head. And they don’t have Amaris buying them weapons in the Inner Sphere.” Ethan pushed his chair back to the desk. “We might be able to do it,” he said thoughtfully. “It’d be pretty hard on morale, especially with Kerensky off on the Rim, but if we were fighting only one at a time it might be possible.”
“You don’t actually think it’s a good idea, do you?”
“Do I look insane?”
”You’ve always looked insane to me, Ethan,” Pritchard pointed out. “I mean, what sort of idiot joins the SLDF right at the start of the war from hell?”
“Hey, I resemble that remark!” Cage objected.
“If you want to go to war with the Taurians when we’re still reeling from liberating the Hegemony, you really are insane,” Ethan pointed out reasonably.
“What does that say about our glorious leader?”
“Cameron? I never voted for him.”
.o0O0o.
SLDF Headquarters, New Earth
Alliance Core, Terran Hegemony
29 April 2776
“Welcome back.” Aaron DeChevilier rose to greet Aleksandr Kerensky as the former Commanding General entered his old office. “How are you?”
“It feels strange for that to be someone else’s desk.” Kerensky offered his hand and the two men shook. “It’s not really sunk in yet. The…” He looked around. “The boys are excited about going to Apollo.”
“I don’t think anyone will notice one more family leaving Terra. Millions of others are.”
The older man frowned. “I’d hoped it would be tapering off now that order’s been restored.”
“Unfortunately not. Every dropship that lands with relief supplies takes off crammed with refugees willing to take a chance on wherever the dropship is going back to.” DeChevilier shook his head. “We don’t exactly have a census, but based on the voting rolls from the start of the year the population of Terra is below eleven and a half billion and still dropping.”
“More than half a billion refugees? It’s mindboggling.” Kerensky accepted the offer of a seat. “Where are they all going to? Many of the other worlds of the Hegemony can’t support their own populace, much less an influx on that scale.”
DeChevilier sank back into the seat behind the desk. “Anywhere that will take them – to be fair, all the member-states have opened their doors to refugees. Based on the shipping patterns, I’d guess something like a third of them wind up in the Federated Suns but there have been reports of groups making it as far as the Outworlds Alliance.”
“The Alliance? Hmm. That could be a problem. There’s a lot bitterness there.”
“As far as we can tell the groups headed there are either pacifists or have associations with the corporations on newer colonies. I’ve no idea what they’ll make of the Outworlders when they get there, but there are nearer problems to worry about.”
“Further problems can get out of hand if you don’t watch them, Aaron,” Kerensky counselled. “Look at the Mexican War of the 1840s for how clashes between different waves of settlers from disparate backgrounds can explode into conflict. If that endangers the ceasefire then the SLDF could be pulled back into the territorial states whatever’s been agreed with Lord Cameron.”
“That assumes that there is an SLDF. The Royals’ defection wasn’t the first case of SLDF soldiers turning their coats to one of the lords, just the most obvious. Minoru Kurita and Kenyon Marik might not have given us any support against Amaris but that doesn’t stop them from joining Liao and Steiner in offering bribes. Right now it’s a trickle, but it’s constant and recruiting isn’t replacing the losses yet.”
Kerensky nodded. “Unfortunately they aren’t doing anything illegal. I take it there’s no similar bargaining going on with the AFFS?”
His successor gave him a thoughtful look. “You know he doesn’t need to send recruiters into the Hegemony. Tens of thousands of our troops have dependents based on worlds of the Federated Suns and some of them are retiring to join their families there. They might be honest retirees – I can’t blame them for being burned out – but it’s just as much of a drain.” DeChevilier frowned. “And the same’s happening with you.”
“I didn’t ask anyone to follow me to the Rim Worlds.”
“But they’re doing it anyway. There are even posters being circulated, talking about making a fresh start with General Kerensky.”
“Eh? I didn’t agree to anything like that!”
“But will you deny them?”
Kerensky ran one hand back over his scalp. “How could I do that, Aaron? Those men and women gave me so much, don’t I owe them the chance at a new beginning? And besides that…”
“You need the troops?”
“I might,” he admitted. “Steiner still has many regiments bordering the Rim Worlds and while I’m sure you’d wish to help in the event he decides to cross the border, the fact is that the Star League Council has always been more willing to stand aside from such conflicts than they have been to intervene.”
“The First Lord could order us in,” pointed out DeChevilier. “Of course, that depends on the First Lord and…”
“Yes. He was not a good officer, from the records we have. Not the worst but not well suited to the demands of a military life. What do you make of him?”
“A perfect example of ‘those who can, do, but those who can’t, talk about it’. An armchair strategist overly convinced of his comprehension of warfare and politics.”
Kerensky sighed. “Well at least he tried to serve. We have worked with worse.”
“Only once and look how Richard turned out.”
Both men fell silent at the memory of the young First Lord. Nine years now since he had been killed. They had a date at least, knew that he’d died in the first moments of the coup. Amaris had given a full account, ashamed of nothing he had done, before he met the firing squad. Kerensky had read it, DeChevilier simply scanned the summary and filed it for historians to pore over in years to come.
“As much as I wish I could offer to speak on your behalf, I have few friends on the Council,” Kerensky said at last. “And where some are concerned, my support would not work to your benefits.”
“Davion would listen, I think. And Kurita admires you in his way, you know how they venerate warriors. That duel with Scoffins – it was still a stupid risk to take but I hear it’s already part of their curriculum at Sun Zhang.”
“That does not reassure me,” Kerensky grumbled. “Some of them may see it as a challenge. And besides those two, there is Marik who would vote against whatever stance I take for no other reason. Robert Steiner is almost as bad.”
“Perhaps you should start advocating something outrageous then, trick the votes out from them.”
“Play the fool the way Amaris did?” Kerensky made a face at the distasteful thought. “I have never enjoyed such politics.”
DeChevilier gave him an unsympathetic look. “It’s one of the ways a lord protects his realm, Alex. And probably cheaper on the soul than sending more young men and women to die for the realm.”
“I can’t say you’re wrong. Well, I’ll see what I can do. Best to forewarn John Davion if I try anything like that.” He rubbed his head again. “Not to change the subject, but I haven’t asked about your family, Aaron. How are they?”
“I think Cynthia has a bit of cabin fever, odd after spending years aboard a nautical freighter, but there you go. She’s talking about getting a job – maybe taking another ship out or getting a dropship certificate. I’m not sure if that’s a hint I should find more time for her or if she’s serious.”
“Command can be a hard habit to shake and she had a taste of it with that ship. Perhaps that’s what she’s after. What do the children think?”
“Julia’s too busy in Mechwarrior training and Kristina’s after doing the same next year – she’s old enough now. I’m not sure that might not be a factor for Cynthia.”
“And your, er, son?” Kerensky almost called Benjamin the younger son but recovered himself. Roger DeChevilier had been dead almost ten years – one of the many soldiers in Twentieth Army who’d pushed recklessly into the Outworlds Alliance during the uprising – and his spectre still hung over his father.
DeChevilier shrugged. “I’m not sure how to talk to the boy. He doesn’t want to be a Mechwarrior, or join the SLDF at all. For now he’s volunteered for relief work, but that’s not exactly a long-term commitment.”
“It’s a worthy cause though. Sometimes it takes a while to find your path, Aaron. I wasn’t that much younger than he was when the Nagelring offered me a place – I’d never considered a military career until then. And maybe it’s not such a bad thing, to have him working to rebuild what’s been torn down by the fighting.”
.o0O0o.
Unity City, Terra
Alliance Core, Terran Hegemony
5 May 2776
“I hope none of you wish to question my legitimacy as you did my cousin?” Keith Cameron said heavily as he took his seat at the table. He’d been elected months ago but Robert Steiner had begged off returning to Terra immediately and Barbara Liao had cited her younger son’s election to the Capellan Prefectorate and her need to attend the investment. In the end they’d deferred meeting until what would normally have been the regular spring session, hoping that the appearance of normality would help.
Kenyon Marik steepled his fingers. “Despite some irregularity in the election’s results, I suppose that you did receive the most votes of any willing candidate, Director-General.”
“I’m overjoyed at your support,” Cameron said with only a hint of sarcasm. “I hope I meet with the approval of the rest of the Council.”
John nodded and was about to speak when Hanse – who’d perched himself on the table in front of the vacant seat of the Magestrix, on the far side of Kerensky from the First Prince – hopped down. “They’re up to something,” the redhead warned, pointing at Minoru Kurita.
Glancing around, John saw the other lords exchanging slight nods. Robert Steiner rose to his feet. “I believe I speak for us all in welcoming you to the Star League Council, Lord Cameron. To your rightful place, indeed. And now that we have a complete council of voting members, I call for a vote on the election of a First Lord.”
What? “The position of First Lord is hereditary within House Cameron,” John protested.
“It’s in the Accords,” agreed Cameron.
“I’m so sorry to correct you, Lord Cameron.” Minoru Kurita gave the Director-General a smug look. “However, that isn’t quite correct. The post was created by the Star League Accords and granted to Ian Cameron and his descendants in perpetuity, but you aren’t actually his descendant - your branch of House Cameron diverged one generation previously.”
John didn’t need Hanse’s advice to guess that the other Lords had been discussing this already – and that he’d been carefully excluded. “And why, precisely, do you think it appropriate to quibble over that? Lord Cameron is Ian Cameron's heir upon this council.”
“We do face extraordinary circumstances. While some of the difficulties of Lord Richard’s reign can be blamed upon his youth and the influence of the late Lord Amaris, it must be remembered that he also choose to hold the office of Director-General as well as First Lord, whereas his predecessors invested the governance of the Terran Hegemony in either their heir or in the President of the Hegemony Congress. It seems from experience that it’s best not to lay too much upon the shoulders of one man,”
“First you insist my cousin or I have to be elected as Director-General, now you’re claiming I shouldn’t hold that office and be First Lord too?”
“That’s surely a matter for the Council to decide,” Barbara Liao pointed out.
“Although,” the Coordinator said smoothly, “The fact you didn’t know the legal basis of the office suggests that you haven’t yet – understandably given the state of the Hegemony – had the chance to familiarise yourself with the workings of the Star League yet. If the Council votes in your favour, then of course, I expect you will carry it out with honour but I feel there’s sufficient grounds to second Lord Steiner’s motion.”
“Thank you, Lord Kurita.”
“That slimy snake, do you think they have a candidate in mind?” Hanse paced back and forth within the arc of the table, glancing at the flimsies in front of each member of the Council.
I hope they do, John thought. It’d be a rotten thing to do to Cameron, but if they’ve at least agreed on a First Lord then it would be better than a prolonged argument. He opened his noteputer and searched for a copy of the Star League Accords.
“I don’t believe this to be wise, my lords,” Kerensky observed quietly.
All eyes turned to him and he rose. “I think that in this Council only Lord Kurita and Lord Steiner are of an age to remember the stability and security of the League at the beginning of the century. I assure you that many billions of our citizens recall those days as well and yearn for them to return. Your ancestors accomplished that by uniting behind Ian Cameron, his son Nicholas and then Nicholas’ grandson Michael Cameron. Surely we should not let down the people of the Star League.”
“Those were indeed happier days,” Marik agreed. “but as you say, the Camerons did not accomplish it alone. Without Albert Marik and even Terrence Liao, there would be no Star League. The Hegemony lies in ruins and House Cameron’s reputation has soured. While both may be rebuilt, at this time I feel there is merit in letting Lord Cameron focus on restoring what you and Amaris tore apart without also pushing him into an office that even the great First Lords of the Star League’s first century felt was not compatible with devoting themselves to the Hegemony.”
“You’re not pushing me in. You’re pushing me out,” grated Cameron, his fists clenching.
“Do you have nothing to say, Lord Davion?” asked Kurita and the room turned to John.
“You’re correct that the post of First Lord is specified as hereditary to Ian's descendants rather than his heirs,” he said grudgingly. “I doubt that was the intent and I feel that this is an unfortunate precedent to set but it seems that Lord Steiner’s motion is in order.”
“Since Lady Calderon is absent, that makes you senior,” Steiner noted. “If you would call the vote on whether the position of First Lord should be opened for election…?”
John glared at him. “You may find yourself regretting this, Robert.”
“Is that a threat?”
“Just a prediction.” John looked around. There were three objecting faces, but neither Aleksandr Kerensky nor Hanse Davion had votes, if for rather different reasons. Could he shift the terms at all? Make it a vote on Keith Cameron receiving the office…
“Careful,” Hanse warned. “If you put his affirmation into the question then a nay vote would kill his candidacy for election.”
John made a face. “On the question raised, a vote of aye is to open the post of First Lord for election by this Council, based on the stated arguements. A vote of nay is to take the Accords as indicating House Cameron's succession is intended to be automatic regardless of specific descent. My vote is nay.”
“Aye,” said Steiner immediately and three other voices spoke up for the same cause. Cameron scowled and said nothing. Although with four votes in favour of the measure, abstaining carried as much weight as another nay vote.
“Motion,” John said reluctantly, “is carried. The post of First Lord is open for election by the Council. Next order of business -”
“Putting yourself forward?” asked Barbara Liao sharply.
He stared at her for a moment. “If elected I would serve, but while you may covet the throne I’m eyeing the challenges and I think I’ve done quite a bit of propping up the Star League already… not all of you can say the same. Or do you think the peace and prosperity we’ve squandered came easily to our ancestors?”
“Get off your high horse, Davion,” snorted Marik. “I propose -”
“I have the floor, Lord Marik.”
Marik looked around the table but apparently saw no support. “Naturally. Do continue.”
“While we have a ceasefire,” John continued, “We are technically at war with the secessionists within the Outworlds Alliance, the Taurian Concordat and the Magistracy of Canopus. Given the immense losses of men and equipment, not to mention the rather limited financial resources of the Star League at this point, it isn’t a war we’re positioned to continue unless all member states are willing to shoulder the main effort.”
“What do we have an SLDF for if they can’t suppress rebellion?” asked Marik, sneering across the chamber at Kerensky.
The Protector didn’t oblige by rising to the bait and John continued: “I therefore propose that we should seek a diplomatic resolution to the conflict. The major rallying point of the periphery has been the not entirely unjustified claim that they’re subject to taxation without representation.”
“The Periphery Lords have been seated here for more than half a century,” objected Steiner.
“Representation is more than simply a voice, Lord Steiner. I propose that we should offer all four Territorial States the opportunity to sign the Star League Accords and join the Star League as full members.”
“You want to reward those rabble for their rebellion?”
“The rebels you speak of have never been formally identified with the ruling houses of the realms in question. The one lord who was found guilty of treason has been indicted, executed and his entire House removed. I believe my proposal is in line with the ideals espoused by Albert Marik and Ursula Liao, in line with the spirit of the Edict of 2722. It costs us nothing to make this offer in good faith and it may reap far more of a reward than continued hostility.”
“Other than the dignity of the Star League, to crawl to a bunch of provincials…” Robert Steiner snorted. “You know Calderon’s up to her neck in this Periphery Uprising.”
“She was seated right there, seven months ago.” John pointed to the empty seat of the Taurian Concordat. “If you’re convinced of her guilt, Robert, why didn’t you accuse her then?”
“You know perfectly well why I didn’t. Anyway, what if they decline? We’ll look like fools.”
Cameron murmured something under his breath.
“I didn’t catch that,” the Archon said in a biting tone.
“He said, ‘you already do’,” Hanse reported.
“I was considering whether or not they’d accept,” Director-General claimed. “I haven’t actually met Lady Calderon or Lady Centralla – for that matter, have any us of even met the new President of the Outworlds Alliance?”
“I have,” said John. “I’m not convinced he’d accept, but he’d probably at least think about it.”
“I see.” Liao pursed her lips. “I don’t see how we can lose through this proposal. If they accept then the Star League is fully restored. If some accept and some don’t then the scale of the problem is reduced. And if they all decline then no one can say we didn’t try to find a peaceful solution.”
“All decline?” Marik’s voice was sharp. “I don’t think that that’s likely, do you Protector Kerensky!”
“Wait, him too?” protested Steiner. “Davion, were you trying to sneak him past us?”
“Sneak?” asked John blandly. “I did say four, didn’t I?”
“You did,” Minoru Kurita murmured. “And one could hardly exclude the Rim Worlds Republic under the circumstances.”
Robert Steiner scowled weightily at John and then to the Chancellor on his other side. “The Star League Accords are a treaty between our six realms. They can’t be expanded to other states unless we all agree!”
“That is one interpretation,” she said thoughtfully. “But what reason do you have to decline the proposal, Robert? I might almost think you were letting your personal feelings override the facts of the matter.”
“Bringing the territories into full membership would be grossly disruptive to the economy.”
“Your corporations have had a decade to get used to curbing their rapacity,” Kurita told the Lyran. “On principle I find the notion of appeasement unwelcome, but the disruptions caused by such a proposal are hardly outweighed by the losses all our industries have faced over the last decade. We can endure such change if need be.”
“You’re one to talk about rapacity, with the sort of piracy your companies carry out.”
The Captain-General cleared his throat. “We’re drifting away from the point. Adding the Rim Worlds Protectorate to the Star League’s member states would be a null event in terms of relations with the other three realms. One can hardly imagine that Lord Kerensky would endorse secession from the Star League.”
“It would be a sign of good faith,” disagreed Kerensky.
“The question,” Marik continued, “Is whether there is any likelihood it would be accepted in the other three realms. Vanura Centralla might have been tractable but I doubt her daughter will be inclined to accept.”
“Avellar might consider it but he dare not seem as soft as his mother,” observed Kurita. “Mostly likely he would stall, but eventually he would decline. That leaves Calderon, of which no more need be said.”
Liao shrugged. “Given we cannot immediately pursue a military solution, the dignity you feel so keenly for will be threatened anyway. Better we seem to be gracious than simply directionless. Lord Cameron has already advocated bringing the territories back into the Star League, so it will be difficult for him should we do nothing.”
“And a diplomatic solution, even with a low chance of success, is something that we can do now,” Cameron pointed out. “Military action, I’m told, would be very costly at a time when our budgets are tight. Perhaps we should put it to the vote now.”
“Only a unanimous decision can modify the Accords,” Steiner shot back.
“Whether or that’s so is a question for the Star League Council to decide, so in practical terms a vote seems necessary,” Kerensky told him. “You can insist on a vote for that if you prefer.”
“Shall we vote on that?” John asked politely.
Steiner folded his arms and said nothing.
“Very well. The vote is on the question of offering full membership of the Star League to the Taurian Concordat, the Magistracy of Canopus, the Rim Worlds Protectorate and the Outworlds Alliance. A vote of aye approves making the offers. A vote of nay is against doing so.” John steepled his fingers. “As the originator of the measure, I vote aye.”
“Aye,” agreed Barbara Liao, looking down the table at Kerensky.
Robert Steiner leant back in his chair. “Nay.”
Across the table Kenyon Marik considered and then shook his head. “Also nay.”
“At this time,” Minoru Kurita said deliberately, “Nay. Although,” he added with a raised hand, “We may wish to revisit the position when it is clearer that we are offering from a position of strength.”
Keith Cameron sighed. “Aye. For what it’s worth.” If the Director-General had been First Lord then he would have broken the tie, but as it was…
“Bargaining chips,” Hanse observed. “What’s Kerensky’s support worth to them? Four out of seven is no better than four out of six, as a majority, but if it looks like bringing him in would end a deadlock in their favour…”
“Given the unfortunately fact there are six voting members of the Council we may find it a little harder to avoid deadlocks,” Minoru Kurita observed. “Unless, of course, we have a First Lord. I move that we make nominations for the position without further ado.”
It didn’t seem to John that doing so was a good way to avoid deadlocks, but what could he do?
