BattleTech - The Board Game of Armored Combat
BattleTech Player Boards => Fan Fiction => Topic started by: Davout73 on 26 January 2011, 12:28:46
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Using a bodge of Makinus' Campaign rules (hopefully reposted soon), I've been running a solo merc campaign against the MegaMek Bot. I had posted the original installments on the old forum, am reposting them here here.
I am missing a few of the interviews, if/when i can find them I'll post them, but I fear they are lost...
And they are not!
Whoever managed to put up the archive, I thank you!
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I've been playing a solo campaign using a bash of rues found here on the forum (but mostly Makinus' rules). I've got a full year of game time done, and thought it would be interesting to try and fluff the unit out some. What follows are parts 1-3 of what I've come up with.
As I finish parts I will add them.
Thanks for reading,
Davout73
Part One
"Hold on just a moment, let me make sure this is recording...OK, this is Brad McEuen, today is the 4th of March, 3025, and we are in the Hiring Hall on Galatea. Would you mind introducing yourself for the recording please?"
"Sure, Andrew Davout, Mercenary Commander."
"No Rank?"
"The guys in the Unit call me Major, they could call me anything they wanted to really, as long as they remember who authorizes the deposits."
"Excellent, well, let's get down to the details."
BM: Do you come from a military background?
AD: Sort of. My father was a Line Assemblyman for Coventry Metalworks, put together Commando's. Mom was a teacher. My older brother was a Mechwarrior. Served with Winfields Guards, he dies on Severn, what, 14 years ago? No other kids.
BM: So what did you want to be when you grew up?
AD: Not this. Was the farthest thing from my mind until 3015 or so. My brother used to send me vids and letters, talked about how it was months of boredom with minutes of terror. We used to watch the trids out of Solaris, used to think that was cool. Both had dreams of becoming the next Champion. His first fight disabused him of that notion. Actually, I wanted to be a Historian. History's been my first love, a passion if you will.
BM: So what happened in 3015?
AD: Dad retired from Metalworks. Put 35 years in, figured it was time to take my mom on vacation. I was 16, had just started school, they went on vacation to Timbuktu. Mom had grown up there, went to visit relatives I've never seen.
Pause.
AD: Anyways, Pirate Attack hit the planet. Arrived at a Pirate point, landed, laid waste to a few small villages, my parents and relatives were in one of them.
BM: I am sorry to hear that.
AD: Dangers of living on the Periphery. Anyways, Mom and dad were dead. Alan was dead, that left me. Emancipated Minorship was easy to obtain, I dropped out of school, Professor Langtry was crushed, let me tell you-
BM: Sorry. You mean Grant Langtry, Professor Emeritus of History at Tharkad University?
AD: Yeah, nice man, great scholar, loves a good argument. We stay in touch from time to time.
BM: Never met him personally, would love to though, his last book was amazing.
AD: You write this up nice I'll see what I can do. Anyways, where was I.
BM: Emancipated Minorship.
AD: Right, anyways, went back to Coventry, sold everything I could, and enrolled in Coventry
BM: Not the Nagelring?
AD: <Snorts> You couldn't pay me enough to go there. Besides, I didn't have the right sort pull to get in there. Mechanics kid with a smart brain. Didn't have the word Graf or Margraeve in front of my name, and not enough S-Bills in my account for that sort of cachet. Coventry on the other hand, Dad knew people, they knew people, quite a few of them teach at the academy. Went in at 17, graduated at 20, top 5. Go figure.
BM: Top 5 is a pretty good accomplishment.
AD: I've found that the people that care about it the most are the ones whose opinions don't count. Besides, the vast majority of those we hold up as hero's and great soldiers actually didn't do that well in school. There's a large disconnect between class room and holotank exercises and the realworld.
BM: So what was your first posting.
AD: Originally? 1st Royal Guards.
BM: Prestigious Unit.
AD: Bah. Toughest battle they've fought is over splitting the tab, or what cape to wear with the dress uniform for the Duchess of Hole in the Grounds soiree. Garrison detail on the Capital? Blech. I'd have been a verdammt fool to take that assignment.
BM: So where to then?
AD: 15th Lyran. On Hesperus.
BM: 15th Lyran on Hesperus in 3019. So you were there when-
AD: Yeah, I was there. Landed, Unit inbriefing, got my Warhammer, and six weeks later the Dragoons hit. Everything they are advertised to be; and more. Had my ‘hammer shot out from under me twice, but I had my combat. Went in a Leutnant, came out a Leutnant. Got lucky, didn't have to write any letters to parents...
BM: So you stayed in Hesperus for 6 years then.
AD: No, rotated to Cavanaugh, 9th Lyran. Took a promotion to do it.
BM: The Periphery.
AD: Pirate Hunting. Lot of Activity then.
BM: Ah. Good assignment.
AD: Worst mistake I ever made.
BM: How so.
AD: The Steiner curse, in full force.
BM: Steiner Curse?
AD: That's what I call it. I am sure everyone has their own name for it. I graduated from Coventry. No sash to my uniform. My Immediate commander was Kommandant Baron Pietr von Hausing.
BM: The Westerstede von Hausings?
AD: In his dreams. No, the Kandersteg von Hausings, brother of the first Moved to, ah, nevermind. Anyways. Want a wine pairing with your meal, as the Baron. Want an invite to the closed door party? Ask the Baron. Want to plan a flanking envelopment while pinning the enemy with coordinated combined Arms Assault? Not your man. He tried, bless his heart, he tried. Sad thing was,he knew his shortcomings. Pulled me into the office one night, drunk, was the mosr truthful conversation I had with the man. We had rotated to Pencader, we rotated Companies as part of the Garrison there, mine went, the CO sent von Hasuing along for some "leavening" as he called it. Not so much on the social activity there, but the Baron tried. We were raided about six months in. Pirates, making a grab for the foodstuffs. Thought here was just a company, we were wrong.
BM: So what Happened.
AD: Blockbumsen. Two companies, landed far apart, as we moved into get one the other came out of hiding, hit some of the farmsteads. The Kommandant went out with his lance to try and contain them, but Pirates aren't dumb. Led him into a valley, blocked it off. I was four hours away with my company. I give the man credit, he fought well. Took three with him. Rest of his lance was killed. When my unit finally got there he had been pulled out of the cockpit and executed. Pirates got away. Unit was rotated back to Poulsbo, and then I was desk bound for 6 months. I hated that.
BM: Riding a desk is hard.
AD: Harder when your being investigated.
BM: Investigated?
AD: His father pulled a few strings. Tried to have me court-martialed. That was interesting.
BM: How so?
AD: Never underestimate a fathers love for his son. Tried to cashier me out of the service. Dereliction of Duty, Malfeasance, you name it. He showed up on planet one day, gaggle of lawyers in tow, tried to have me arrested right then and there.
BM: So what happened?
AD: Article 45 hearing. Court Martial. Good lawyer on my side, proved that no matter what I had done, I couldn't have gotten back in time. Also proved that if the Baron hadn't done what he did, lot more damage would have been done. Pencader isn't a net exporter of food, they eat what they grow, they don't grow, they don't eat. He got a medal. I got a Black Mark in my file, transferred to Cavanaugh and the 9th. Frying Pan to the fire.
BM: Why do you say that.
AD: <Sigh>. For all his faults, Pietr tried. Knew his weaknesses, and worked on them. Which if you ask me was akin to put a butterfly on a major hull breach, but the man tried. Kommandant Russ McNab on the other hand...
BM: Name sounds familiar
AD: His Uncle runs Gienah Motors? Anyways, He didn't try. Four years I did my best.
BM: Best what.
AD: Best to get transferred, best to hide his inabilities. Best to cover for him. About three years into it, He won the Service Cross for actions during a Marik Raid-
BM: I remember reading about that, a company of 5th Orloff landed and hit the Southern Continent.
AD: More like two companies. Was a recon raid most likely. My company was on maneuvers in the Northlands, his was on the south, and I get a frantic call to embark and reinforce. A low altitude night drop onto hostile held ground. Lost one unit when its jump jets failed and he cored into the ground. Lost two more to ground fire in the next five minutes. 18 hours fighting a retrograde action that left my company 8 mechs and 4 pilots down. FUBAR all around.
BM: And where was the Kommandant.
AD: Three thousand kilometers away, at a dinner. Entertaining his guests with his exploits apparently. He arrived with the next group of reinforcements, the Grenadiers retreated in good order. He got a medal. I got to write more letters. Anyways, a few weeks after that...
BM: Incident?
AD: Debacle is a better word...anyways, a few weeks later, he meets me in the bay, I'm hip deep in actuator and myomer, and he tells me he's getting transferred, to Tharkad of all places, some adjutant job at the Nagelring in six months, and if I "play my Cards right", he can get me a transfer there in a year or so. That's when I decided to leave.
BM: How hard was it?
AD: Leaving? Painful, and easy, if that makes any sense. There's a camaraderie you develop with your soldiers, they become your friends. The hardest thing I had to learn in combat was that these friends, these old men, these kids, you had to order them into something most people want to avoid, and you're ordering some of them to their death. That weighs heavily on a commander. I am not quite sure how the good ones handle it.
BM: But you have your own company now.
AD: I do, and frankly, I am still learning.
BM: So how did that happen?
AD: I didn't go looking for it. Well,wait, that's a lie. I was looking. I knew when my tour was up I was going to leave the LCAF, go to Galatea, try and hookup with a good reputable unit. The Eridani, 21st Centauri-
BM: The Dragoons?
AD: <Snorts>. I heard rumors the last time they hired, who they did and who they didn't. I'd be lying if I said I didn't harbor some dreams about that, trying out, being accepted. There are worse units to be a part of, but then I think any unit with an esprit d'corps, honorable actions, and decent pay is worth looking into.
BM: So what happened?
AD: A friend of mine in the unit comes to me, says he has proof McNab is defrauding the unit.
BM: I've heard that happens.
AD: Happens quite a bit in the LCAF. What happened was McNab and a couple of "friends" created a couple of mailbox companies. Then they had these companies bill the LCAF for certain items, foodstuffs, basic supplies, nothing to exotic, then LCAF would pay the invoices, and McNab would pocket his share. They'd also fake a few invoices now and then, add a zero to a supply order, get 100 crates of ammo instead of 10, sell a few off. Small time stuff really, but you do it long enough, you can make a nice chunk of change. He also had a gambling problem.
BM: Really?
AD: Was big into the Solaris fights, and a couple of other things. I saw the writing on the wall, so did some of the others. A couple of them came to me and said they'd follow me and join up. Full companies worth of men. That was gratifying.
<Pause.>
Anyways, time was getting short, 6 weeks to go, and I had managed to send one of my guys ahead on the way to Galatea, see what the lay of the land was. I'm in the bay after an exercise, and in walks McNab, with two JAG officers, and arrest's me. Apparently he has proof I've been defrauding the unit. So they take me away, stick me in a room for three days, and try to get some answers.
BM: So what happened?
AD: On the fourth day McNab is coming back from a party, and gets a message from his batman. Guy had some poor corporal doing nothing but nursemaiding him. Anyways, he's been trying to get a hold of the Kommandant for hours, but because of the party, McNab wanted no interruptions. Apparently his mech was being repossessed.
BM: Excuse me?
AD: McNab apparently made quite a few large bets on the Solaris Games. Bet quite a tidy sum that Delvalle would beat Moder and take the championship back. Didn't happen. McNab was something eight million in the hole after that came out, and had put his Zeus up as collateral. He lost, and they tried repossessing the Zeus.
BM: Tried?
AD: LCAF property. Part of me believes that McNab may have wanted to buy it when he left, pass it down to a child, or another family member, who knows. Anyways, in a pissing match between the LCAF bureaucracy and a repo man, the LCAF wins.
BM: Indeed.
AD: But only because it's a bureaucracy. You could win, but it'll cost you a couple of years and a few S-Bills.
BM: Heh. So, what happened.
AD: It all fell apart. JAG left and came back with LIC, and Treasury. One thing about McNabs scheme was that it was simple, and tried and tested, used and abused by military men since the first supply sergeant realized what he could get away with. Simple can be easy to hide as well, if you invest the time and energy.
BM: And McNab didn't.
AD: McNab is what Professor Langtry would call a least amount of effort personality. He would do as much to get the minimum amount required done, and then that was it. Once they cracked his hidden accounts, it was over for him and his friends. Oddly enough, most of their money had disappeared. The assumption is one of them took it, moved it offworld into a hidden account somewhere's. They all turned on each other at the end, accusing each of stealing it.
BM: So then what?
AD: I was released. Apologized to. McNab had made it up, sensed what me and the others were planning to do, and tried to frame us. I was a Brevet Kommandant for four weeks, then I signed my papers and was gone. Bought my Warhammer, and myself and seven others hopped a ride to Solaris.
BM: Solaris? Not Galatea?
AD: Two reasons. One was I already had a contract. There's a reason Lionel Berthier is the next highest paid man in the unit, as an admin he's the best there is. He was the one who caught McNab's scheme.
BM: And the other?
AD: Had to pick up my winnings. I bet on Moder.
<Sound of a phone ringing>
AD: Davout here.
<Pause>
AD: Excuse me for a moment, I have to take this.
BM: Sure we can continue this in a moment, I need a break anyways.
<Door Opens and closes>.
Part 2
"OK, today is the 5th of March, Hiring Hall on Galatea, Brian McEuen here with Major Andrew Davout, continuing our interview from Yesterday. Welcome back Major."
AD: No problem. Sorry about yesterday. Had a situation that required my attention.
BM: No problem. When we left yesterday you were on Solaris, with a new Unit.
AD: Well, not exactly new. I had 11 other Mechwarriors, Berthier, Doc Lisfranc, and a couple of techs. Managed to hire a few more techs on Galatea and bring them along. Most of the mech pilots I had served with, the only two that didn't were ones that were vouchsafed by guys I trusted, and they came from the 15th, so my fears were allayed a bit.
BM: So what was your First Contract?
AD: Ostensibly, it was training. House Marik hired us to be the OpFor for a group of 5th Oriente Hussars on Dalcour. We met up at Dalcour and dropped, no problem, then started our excercises. We dropped a little ways off, playing a Steiner OpFor for the Hussars to fight. May as well make it as realistic as possible, right? Anyways, my Heavy Lance is out in the field, and comes across elements of another lance. Jed, my 2iC, thinks it the Hussars, and starts maneuvering. They move in, and next thing they know they're getting hit by live ammo. Go in expecting a training mission, get hit by live fire. Next thing he knows, there's two assault mechs walking over the hills. 5th Oriente didn't have any of those.
BM: Lyrans?
AD: Pirates. Called themselves the Black Hand.
<Pause>
BM <coughs>: Continuing on?
AD: Knocked out three mechs. Took some damage ourselves. Week later, we're in camp, and the seismic starts going off. One enemy unit, comes walking to the gates, Wolverine with some battle damage. First defector of the campaign. Had a total of three by the end.
BM: Is that common?
AD: Not sure. Takes a different breed to be a pirate. There's plenty of historical evidence of units going rogue, for whatever reason. Hell, Circinus is nothing more than a Pirate Kingdom with an economy that involves more than pillaging your neighbor. Some people get into, they like it, feeling of power, feeling of belonging. Like being in a gang, but with heavy firepower behind you. Some guys get into it, stay awhile, leave. Sometimes you can't leave. Other times, you die trying. That ended up being a pretty profitable campaign for us. Once John Made it through, pthers started coming. Techs, couple of medics, interesting thing was the Pirate jumpship wasn't in system. Found out it was coming back for them in a few weeks. We made a push to try and take the rest of the band out before they could leave.
BM: Successful?
AD: Mostly. They were essentially an under strength Battalion, six, maybe seven lances. Some of them got away. They left a Union behind, not willingly. <chuckle>
BM: Fortuitous.
AD: I'm not a firm believer in luck, but I'll take it when it goes in my favor.
BM: So tell me about the Unit Name.
AD: <chuckling> You'll think its fiction. Honestly, I was there, and I have a hard time believing it sometimes.
BM: We can always edit.
AD: <Pauses>
BM: Major?
AD: We didn't have a unit name originally. Look at our first contract, and you'l l see our MBRC Registration number. Unit names are odd to me. Merrill's Marauders, Hanson's Rough Riders, the Grey Death Legion. Names like that are supposed to do something, inspire pride. And to some extent they do. But then again, they could be called Wolf's Fuzzy Bunnies, and they'd still wipe you over the Battlefield. I'd always thought that would be an interesting bar tale. "Hey Pete, how did the Legion of Doom do that last battle?" "Man, we got our asses kicked by the Fuzzy Bunnies..."<Chuckles>
BM: <Half hearted Laugh>
AD: But seriously...
<Pause>
AD: Last week on Delacour, we knew we had it in the bag. Lance worth of Pirates had blasted off already. We were chasing the remaining Lances, maybe 8 or so units. 5th Oriente was out of it, they had tried their damndest to stop them, but green troops in Medium Mechs don't stand to much of a chance against veteran heavies. Lord, they tried. Lost their CO in that last push. Janovick, good troop, would have him on my wing any day of the week...
<Coughs>
<Pause>
It was night time. We had yet to catch up to them. The militia had come out, old men, young boys, did their best to herd them in a certain direction. Didn't work. Then, for whatever reason, they veered. There's a treeline, probably an erosion break, or property demarcation, any way, the Hand moves through it, and as they do, they fire, setting it alight. Was the dry season, so it goes up no problem, winds pick it up, it spreads like...Well, wildfire. Only way to get to them is to go through it, but, going to be tough. Sure, the Widow did it at Harlowes wood, but then again I'm not the Widow, I don't have the support structure she does.
Anyways, John Friant, one of the defectors, he's with us, in his Wolverine-M, jumps up, 150 meters, and he comes back down.
<Longer Pause>
"Major!" he says, they're firing on the town!" And he literally runs into the flames. "There's a town on the other side of the trees, any they're just firing on it!" John was our first defector, had given us a lot of intel on the Hand, a look into their mind. Anyways, he says that, and Jed takes off at a full run after him, 80 tons of Zeus. I followed just as quickly. I have a great command voice, but that's not going to stop a pissed off mechwarrior.
<Pause>
INSERT COMMENT: At this point the Major was staring at the floor, hands on his knees. When he looked up his eyes were hard. I've seen that look before, on Warriors who have seen what's called "The Elephant."
AD: You know who the Mennonites are?
BM: <Coughs> Yes, I am familiar with them.
AD: This was a Mennonite town, no soldiers, no constabulary, no militia. Just forty or so families. Probably didn't know there was anyone in the area, until the flames went up. I am not a fan of night fighting, but this was different. The flames, the anger. and the heat almost shut me down. I was lucky I was out of ammunition for the MG's and SRM, or it would have cooked off. By then, the town was in flames, and we were among them. I've never seen a Hermes duke it out with an Archer and win, but Paul Chasseur did. John had run through the town and literally tackled Banion
BM: Banion?
AD: Leader of this particular expedition. Apparently there was some very bad blood between the two. Anyway, he put Banion down, knocked his leg off, destroyed the T-Bolts arms. Banion announced he wanted to surrender, John put a leg into his cockpit. There wasn't a lot of surrendering that night.
BM: Isn't that a violation-
AD: <Interrupting> I don't care if it is or not. Neither do my guys, or those who lived.
BM: Sorry didn't mean to interrupt there.
AD: Ah, but you did mean to. You a veteran Mr. McEuen?
BM: Um, no, not really. I was a technical specialist for the AFFS for a few years, then I was a journalist-
AD: So that's a no. OK, look, I'm sure you've seen the vids of some of the things that have happened throughout the year. Better yet, go find someone from the ELH, ask them if they would have been OK with the Dracs surrendering when the ELH came upon them killing their families, or, heh, better yet, go find Natasha Kerensky, ask her if she would have been OK if Anton Marik had commed his surrender when she walked out of the woods in 3015...
BM: Erm...
AD: That's OK. Anyhow, we were done fighting. All the enemy mechs were down, we were on the ground, trying to help the wounded, and I come across this young lady, couldn't have been more than 20, maybe 21. Her family is dead, her house is burning behind her. There's not a lot I can do, she has some serious burns, but she's awake, and I ask her if there's anything I can do.
And she smiles. "I saw the trees light up, and I came outside to see what was going on. And a machine comes out of the woods, and fires on our town, hits and destroys our church. And I am rooted to the ground, I am so shocked. Then the village is awake. An explosion behind me, and I am on the ground praying.
<Pause>
Praying to God to save us."
<Pause>
The topology of the ground was a bit odd. The trees went up a hill, then down, but some of them had been removed, probably for fuel or construction, which led to erosion, which led to a small cliff, say, 10 meters high. Not sure whether the Pirates went through it or not, but apparently Robert took it at full speed in his Orion and fell, and I was right behind him. So here I am, 60 kilometers an hour, going over a cliff, prone mech at my feet, so I had to jump. Mid Jump I see this Vindicator ready to fire at John in the back, and I snap a PPC shot off. Hits the Vindy in the back, penetrates the armor, hits the gyro, Vindy falls. Robert got a vid of it, looks like something out of an Immortal Warrior, 70 tons of the Saint Demetrius flying through the air, Flames trailing behind it, PPC blazing...<sighs>
<Pause>
I've tried replicating that in the sims, I haven't been able to do it since. One in a million, to late...
<Pause, Very Audible Sigh>
Anyways, I'm treating this girl, and she looks at me, and she says something about how she was praying to God while the machinations of Satan were around here, and then she saw this machine jump out of the flames, with righteous fury coming from its arms, like a Furious Angel...
BM: We can take a couple of minutes if -
AD: That's OK. No, seriously, it's fine. Death is a part of the business. That same battle I had fallen over, tripped over a damn Phoenix Hawk, and I'm standing up, and this Thunderbolt – S has me dead to rights, I mean, 100 meters away, and the PPC barrel is the only thing I can see, and he fires, and he misses. Bolt went right by the cockpit glass, made the hair on my teeth sizzle, but he missed.
BM: So that's where the unit name comes from.
AD: Yeah, Furious Angels. We actually took a vote on it. I lost.
BM: Lost?
AD: I still like the Fuzzy Bunnies.
<Chuckles>
BM: And the Girl?
AD: Buried with her family.
<Note: I noticed that during the last part of this talk, Major Davout was fidgeting with something in his hand. A Nervous habit or tic is quite common in this profession, some are more pronounced than others, so I hadn't paid attention to it. But this felt like a good place to cut this particular interview short, and I said as much, and the Major agreed. We agreed to continue the talk the next day, and when I went to shake his hand, I noticed he was holding a simple necklace in his hand. I hadn't seen him pull it out of a pocket, but there it was. A Simple piece of leather, with a wooden cross attached to it. You could still see the burn marks on it.)
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Part 3
BM: Your name please?
NO: Nathan Oudinot, Sergeant, Furious Angels.
BM: Thanks for stopping by Sergeant.
NO: Not a problem. The Major got held up by some insurance flunky. And to be honest, after your last conversation he wasn't in a particularly talkative mood.
BM: I think I can understand that.
<Chuckle>
NO: Not to hear him say it.
BM: So what's your relationship to the Major?
NO: I am his senior enlisted officer. Prior to that we served together with the 9th and 15th Lyran Guard. I've known him since 3019. Seven Years now.
BM: And what's your background?
NO: Infantry originally. 8th Arcturan Guard. Killed a Snake in ‘08 with an Inferno, was promoted to the mech, a Centurion. Stayed in the 8th until ‘15, rotated to the 15th then. Met the Major in 3019. He was assigned to command the Lance I was part of.
BM: And your impressions of the man?
NO: Man? Kid was 20 years old and wet behind the ears. And he knew it. He asked more questions those six weeks than my previous charges did the previous 10 years. Listens, takes advice, but when he makes a decision, he sticks by it, even admits when he's wrong from time to time.
BM: Was it tough to follow him?
NO: Follow him? Heck no, hell, I was sent to the 9th before he was, he followed me there. Said he couldn't bear to command a unit without me yelling at him. <Laughs> Honestly, I like him, I thought he had potential. The LCAF had become a joke, that damned fool Alessandro made it worse, which I wasn't sure wasn't even possible. Hell, I once had a guy in the 8th, fresh from the Nagelring, went from Leutnant to Colonel in three years, and he was barely able to fire his side arm, let alone pilot a mech. Don't get me wrong, we have some excellent officers, and I swear to you if Katrina Steiner herself walked in here and commanded me to storm Luthien...
BM: You'd do it?
NO: Only if Andrew was leading the way.<Laughs> Look, I can't explain it. For some reason when I saw him face down the Kommandant on Hesperus something in me clicked, and said "This is an officer worth serving with." I had served with a few others, but for some reason this time, it clicked. And do you know why?
BM: Faced down the Kommandant?
NO: That's his story, not mine.
BM: Fair enough. I have no idea why it clicked.
NO: I don't either. I just know that after Hesperus I was ready to do what I could to see that mans career go far, and I did my best. I think he must have made someone in personnel mad though, his following assignments I am not sure I'd wish on anybody.
BM: He had some interesting things to say about Kommandant von Hausing.
NO: That man expended three times the effort and got a quarter of the results. He wasn't endemic of the service though, he tried. Died trying to live up to a family legacy. I suppose there are worse things to live up to. Not sure where he went wrong, but the Major was pretty broken up about that.
BM: And on Cavanaugh?
NO: I wasn't there for that. Jake, that's Sergeant Lannes, was there, and he's pretty silent on that, which for Jake says a lot. Louis Berthier was there to, but he keeps a secret better than I do. The Major and I used to correspond about it, but when they went to Pencader the messages stopped. Couple of days after his company got back I got a message from Jake, saying that he and a few of the other guys were thinking of leaving, that I should come along, they were going to need a better Top than he could be.
BM: Hard decision?
NO: Not really. I enlisted in '05 when I was 17. 20 years in the military, anyone's military, that's not a bad thing. I was due to retire anyways. Was never married, No family to speak of. Most of my family is still serving, in some form or another, or I've buried them. I was 37 years old. Good health physically, mentally, too many damned fops in uniform mucking things up. Even with the reforms. So I met up with him on Solaris. First thing he did was shake my hand. Then he stands me up in front of the guys, and says "This is Sergeant Nathaniel Oudinot. He is the right hand of God. Piss him off, and God will not be pleased. And I am a much better CO when I am happy."
BM: Sounds standard, if you'll forgive me.
NO: Of course it was, but it had to be done. One thing that will hurt a unit's morale most is lack of cohesion, lack of bonding, familiarity. In situations like von Hausing, the unit pulls together, to do what they can to help because they see the effort being made. A unit like McNab's, you band together to succeed, to spite the man. We didn't have a name, we didn't have an identity beyond what the LCAF had given us, and frankly that can be a poor foundation.
BM: About the name-
NO: I wanted something, I don't know, menacing. Davout's Demons, Davout's Devil's-
BM: He said he voted for the Fuzzy Bunnies.
NO: <Laughs>I've never quite figured out that sense of humor of his...
BM: Can you tell me any more information about that last fight on Delacour.
<Pause>
NO: That's his story to tell. I will say this, he kept himself sequestered for a few days, in his room on the outbound trip. Didn't see anyone, didn't talk to anyone. Not sure he ate. Jake and I checked on him once or twice, and Captain Gudin as well. I'd find him in his cockpit, just holding that cross, flipping it between his fingers.
BM: Nothing you could say or do?
NO: Oh, there was plenty. I'm sure in the same situation a sergeant somewhere's said something to try and buck his CO up, something stirring, patriotic, what have you. The good sergeants, they know to leave it alone, when it needs to be let alone. I know were merc's now, that the paycheck is the thing, that's what we're looking for, but you have to understand, there's a personal in us, all of us. What we hold to be dear and true, no matter how warped our personal beliefs may be. Being a mechwarrior, that code gets, amplified. What you'll do in battle, what you won't do. There's a line you won't cross, until you do.
BM: Such as on Delacour?
NO: Exactly. You walk through a village, you take a shot, you hit the building the shot came from. You destroy for the sake of destroying; like those pirates did...you know who was the most outraged? John Friant.
BM: He was the first pirate defector, right?
NO: Former Marik soldier, was abandoned on a raid when is CO thought he was dead. Lot of bad blood there apparently. Anyways, the Hand finds him, he joins up, they go to Circinus, start pirating around. John's OK with it at first, and then apparently Banion, the leader, starts losing it. They come to Delacour, and Banion kills the militia mech pilots after they surrender, John swears he's going to get off planet somehow. Literally fights his way out of their camp, hikes 30 kicks to ours, and says "My name is John Friant, and I want off this planet." Was the first in line, first into the fire, he went after Banion like, well, I don't know. A lot of us refuse to talk about that night, or the next day.
BM: Is that common?
NO: Can be. Different soldiers deals with such things differently. And Doc Lisfranc, he's not much for listening, that's not his specialty. I had a bottle of 30 year old Aiedhen I shared with Jake and Jed. Wasn't a cure all, but it helped.
BM: Was there any concern about the unit disbanding then?
NO: No. Not at all. Just needed a few days to cope, and we all coped differently. Eventually I think we all packed it away and got back into the routine of things. Major spent a few days in his cabin, then came out, socialized. We spent a lot of time going over the battles we were in, sand table exercises. Major got a hold of Berthier and told him to get something else lined up, we got back to Galatea, spent 4 weeks on planet, repairing mechs, fixing up the Verchiel-
BM: Excuse me?
NO: Dropship we captured. Wasn't in the best shape exactly.
BM: Did you have something else lined up?
NO: Couple of Contracts. Marik was happy with us, so they stepped up to the plate again. Had a garrison offer, but we turned it down.
BM: Why is that?
NO: Most of us spent the majority of our careers sitting around and training. And truth be told, after Delacour, I think we were in need of the type of therapy you can only find on the battlefield.
BM: So you were off to Elgin then?
NO: Yeah, fighting Cappies. First time happened. Hopefully not the last.
Brian McEuen: So, there seems to be differing opinions about the Elgin Raid.
Andrew Davout: I can imagine. Would depend on what side of the fence you're on there. Then again, that was a classic case of anything that can go wrong will.
BM: In what way?
AD: Jumpship blew a seal and we were three weeks late. Capellans had more on the ground than we thought they did. We were an independent command, no liason this time, and we were looking to hit as many distributed targets as we could, Marik troops would hit one side of the planet; we would hit another. Dropship was attacked from the moment we hit the troposphere, we ended up 500 clicks from our original dropzone, and my Forward Lance landed smack dab in the middle of the assembled militia.
<Pause>
Verdammt Blockbumsen. All around.
BM: Tough campaign then.
AD: Toughest we'd be in at that point. Which isn't saying much considering it was only our second contract.
<chuckles>
That said; there comes a time in most campaigns where you look at your plans, and realize that while the arrows and what not look nice, your only option for making any use out of them is leaving them by the latrine. I had to do that before I had hit the ground.
BM: Do you think that the majority of you unit having served together previously helped you out?
AD: Without a doubt. Look, for as much as I bash the LCAF the fact of the matter is the doctrine is pretty sound. Leadership is another story, but the fact that the majority of the Angels having come from that background, and the majority of us having served together at some point in time also helped. You build cohesiveness, a level of reliability and trust that comes in handy when you're rearranging the Order of Battle on the fly. You take 12 different men from 12 different military backgrounds, or combination thereof, and it can cause problems.
BM: Did anything on that mission go according to plan?
AD: We got off planet in one piece. Well, not one piece, I had eight mechs in the repair bay, contract payout barely covered their repair cost. Luckily we had some good salvage. The League has been very fair with us in regard.
BM: There's been some...rumor mongering...that you ignored the mission objectives.
AD: I did. But once the plan went out the window, those objectives were no longer feasible. Adhering to them would have meant the destruction of my unit, the deaths of my men. Hell, the MBRC didn't have any issues with what we did, why should I be worried about what some REMF desk jockey thinks?
BM: Well, it's not just desk jockeys. A few of the dissenters are other commanders.
AD: Great, guys 100 light years away relying on rumor and innuendo. Care to name names?
BM: Colonel Fitzhume of the Fitzhume Highlanders.
<pause>
AD: Takehiko Fitzhume?
BM: Yes.
AD: Of the Rahne Fitzhumes?
BM: I am not sure. I know he's from the Rahnshire in Skye...
AD: Formerly Kommandant Fitzhume of the 9th Lyran? Cashiered from the LCAF three years ago for peculation?
<Pause>
BM: Perhaps. History there?
AD: Only in that one of his closer friends in the 9th was Kommandant McNab.
BM: There's a Major McNab on his unit roster..
AD: Bet he's not driving a Zeus! <laughs>
<laughing>
AD: But seriously.
<laughing stops>
COMMENT INSERT: There are those commanders out there who have a finely developed sense of "Command Authority". Bearing, posture, voice, a look, the part of each attribute contributes to a sum that is greater than the hole. Throughout history there have been many military men whose command presence is without a doubt. There are the loud practitioners, who stray very close to bombast and braggadocio, but whose boisterous mannerisms inspire those around him. Then quiet practitioners, whose bearing and comportment are the first indicators that something is there. Then they reach a certain point, and a switch is flipped, and you know beyond a shadow of doubt that this person "Gets It". Major Davout definitely falls into the quiet type, but once that switch is flipped...his gaze when he stopped laughing was enough to make me think I had upset him in some way.
AD: Let's take a very recent example, Wolf's Dragoons against Hesperus. They were outnumbered, but they came within a hairs breadth of succeeding. And perhaps the only reason they didn't succeed was that Orpheus held back the Roughrider's until the last minute. But even then the Dragoons fought their way to within spitting distance of the gates. Why? Better Pilots? Better Commanders? Luck, if your prepared to believe in that sort thing?
BM: Um, How about E, all the above?
AD: Perhaps. I think it's forgetting something though.
BM: And that would be?
AD: The power of Reputation.
BM: I'm sorry?
AD: Reputation. Rep. Street Cred. Pull, whatever you want to call it. Look, you go to any planet in the Inner sphere, chances are they've heard of the Dragoons. The Dragoons have been kicking tail for the better part of 20 years now, and they're only getting better. Don't get me wrong, they are good fighters, great fighters, but I think these days their rep helps them just as much as their battlefield prowess. If he wanted to, Wolf could put 5 full regiments, a battalion and company of battle ready mechs into the field, with supporting elements. And he's got no transportation worries, for all intents and purposes the Dragoons are as close to self sustaining, if they could build mechs and ammo Jaime Wolf would be a power. He doesn't appear to have the supply "issues" that other mercs have. I think that's a big leg up for him, and those he commands; it allows him to be a bit....
BM: Riskier?
AD: I'd say...Bolder. Bolder with his decision making. They still have to fight, and in that regards they are some of the best. But let's be honest. If you're some planetary militia, or even a defending house or merc unit, you hear the Furious Angels are on the way, you're not going to be too worried. We're an unknown. You hear that the Dragoons are on the way, you're a bit more...concerned.
There's more than one way to do it. But I do think some of the reasons Wolf pressed so hard at Hesperus was he knew the quality of his troops, he knew he could sustain the losses, and he counted on the prestige of his unit to help even the odds. That's the power of Reputation. It's what every good merc unit tries to build. A Good rep is everything in the business. Look around, there's very few successful "bad rep" units around. A unit loses its rep, it goes downhill in a hurry. Look at Wilson's Hussar's, or the Wild Thing's, or any number of units that have come and gone over the years.
<Pause> Truth be told, there's a lot of units out there trying to build up reps.
BM: Would completing the Elgin Raid according to the mission plan helped?
AD: Probably. Maybe. At this point, who knows? We went in expecting planetary Militia and got Militia and a Battalion of the 4th. Landed off course, away from our own supplies, and still did a pretty decent job.
BM: So you think the Dragoons could have pulled of the Elgin Raid?
AD: Depends on how much force they put into it, but honestly, yeah I think they might have gone further than I did, even with a company. Well, maybe the right company. Kerensky could have pulled something out of her....well, look, any number of units might have been able to pull that off. That would be an interesting sand table exercise. But all I can do now is refight it. At the time I made the best decision with the data I had available, which of course means you're going to catch grief from the verdammt fools who weren't there.
<Pause>
But let's be honest, I, or rather the Angels, are 16 Battlemechs and Pilots, I can transport over half of my unit, but I'm beholden to my employer for the rest including Jumpships. I own a Union outright, but I have to contract out the maintenance and support on it until I can hire my own. I lose a mech, or even have one severely damaged, I'm hurting. And because we've been on such quick turnarounds with contracts, we haven't established a homebase, so stockpiling parts and supplies is limited to what the Verchiel can carry and what our employer provides. And the fact of the matter is from a money point of view, considering the size of the unit, I am in good shape. I don't have any creditors, I have some in the bank. But, if I tried adhering to the Elgin contract, I am not sure I'd be here today. Now, if I had 5 regiments, a Battalion and company with full support to draw on, that would be a different story. <Laughs>Now, I can meet all my financial demands, but there's a line I cannot cross if that is going to stay true.
BM: And what line is that? Or is "Where is it?" a better question?
<Pause>
AD: It varies. On Elgin?
BM: As an example.
AD: 15th Marik sent a company along, they hit the other side of the planet, tried going for their objectives. They left with four mechs, out of twelve, and didn;t come anywhere near there intended targets. And they were not incompetent by any stretch of the imagination.
<Pause>
Part of me says I could have fought my way through the 4th Confed, destroyed the two factories I was supposed to destroy, but if it cost me my unit, then what? Pyrrhic Victory? Lose half my mechs, half my men, come back so damaged I have to go into the company store to get them fixed? Sell something off to make ends meet? Finish the contract, lose my company?
BM: It's a common occurrence here.
AD: I know, and I am desperate to avoid it. Desperate like you wouldn't believe.
<pause>
Instead I took out a bunch of power plants and rail line infrastructure.. The power plants supplied power one of the factories and the surrounding communities, they're part of the same grid. They can't run the weapons factory 24/7 without depriving the cities of essential services, so its production is curtailed The rail lines and bridges were the other factories main supply route in and out of its location. So instead of destroying the factories, I took them offline for 12 to 18 months. That's not what the mission called for, but it's not a loss either, and the Marik higher ups had no complaints. Well, they were upset that the factory wasn't destroyed, but they were happy with the end result. Frankly, if someone else thinks they can do a better job they can try. They'll be in the same predicament I was, the same one Wolf was in '19, and they'll make the best call.
BM: And if they make a different one?
AD: As long as they're willing to live with the consequences.
<Pause>
BM: Is there a time when you would cross that line?
<Pause>
AD: I crossed it on Delacour, at that village. I am sure I'll cross it again.
<Beeping Noise>
AD: Excuse me Brian, I have to cut this short, have a meeting to get to.
BM: Not a problem.
Part 5
Date: January 25, 3026
Time: Approximately 0100 hours
Location: 1710 Starling Heights Avenue. A business known as THE LAST STAND.
Reporting Officer: Leftenant Harris Bergman, Galatea Police Department
Description of Event:
At approximately 0100 hours the reporting officer and Sergeant Lonnie Wilkes were notified by phone of a disturbance at 1710 Starling Heights Avenue. This location is a known hangout for non employed and employed soldiers on planet. Within 5 minutes of the first call, reporting officer arrived on scene to find a brawl in process. Immediately called for backup. At approximately 0110 several other officers, including Riot Control Squad Arrived. Approximately 30 individuals were involved in the brawl. Stopping said brawl took approximately 15 minutes and minor force. Two Riot Control Officers were injured in performing their duty. Upon entering the premises, an additional nine persons were found unconscious, with various injuries. All injured participants were transported to local hospitals, interviews to follow. Initial damage estimate to premises is 50,000 plus S-Bills
Initial Report, submitted January 25th, 3026. TimeStamp 0927.
Harris Bergman. Leftenant, Galatean Police Department
Date: January 25th 3026
Time: 0320
Location: Steiner General Hospital
Interviewing Officer: Harris Bergman
Transcription of Audio Statement made by Alois Fischer, Mechwarrior, Eridani Light Horse Recruitment Office.
I was sitting a couple of booths over. Davout and a couple of his guys had come in maybe a half hour before, sat down in the corner, ordered a pitcher and a couple of shots. I was talking with Blackie, when all of the sudden, the noise level over in the corner rose. Davout as just sitting there, one of his pilots was jawing with someone wearing a Fitzhume Highlander tartan. I couldn't hear the entire conversation. There were four or five Highlanders a making their way towards the one guy, who was yelling. I couldn't tell if he was drunk or not. Davout said something to the guy, who screamed at Davout, and then he tried to pull a sidearm out. That's when I made my move towards the door. I saw an Oriental man sitting with Davout, one of his warriors I assume, kick the gun out of the Highlanders hand, and then all hell broke loose. Last thing I remember was a Highlander crashing into the door in front of me, then something hit me in the head and I blacked out. Came to here in the hospital. Concussion. But I will say that Davout and his men didn't start it.
Date: January 25th 3026
Time: 0330
Location: Steiner General Hospital
Interviewing Officer: Sergeant Keith Garnes
Transcription of Audio Statement made by Tang Enbo, Mechwarrior, Furious Angels.
We arrived on Galatea about eight hours earlier. Upon landing many of us took care of some personal business, then we all met at the Regency Grand for our friends wake. Major Davout, Captain Morand, Sergeant Oudinot and myself arrived at the Last Stand at around midnight. We ordered and sat in our corner. About 15 minutes later an obviously drunk man showed up at our table and began to curse at Major Davout. He said his name was McNab, and that he blamed the Major for his current woes. Major Davout did not respond to him, but Sergeant Oudinot did. The two shared several imprecations at each other for a couple of minutes, when Nathan called McNab a worthless pretty boy playing Mechwarrior whose name couldn't cover his incompetence. At this point McNab threw his beer mug at Ouidinot, and then pulled out a side arm. As I was closest to McNab, I disarmed him, struck him three or four times, then was set upon by three or four other compatriots of McNab. I defended myself and my comrades until the police showed up, and since then I have willingly followed all instructions given to me.
Date: January 25th, 3026
Time: 0350
Interviewing Officer: Sergeant Haley Osgood
Transcription of Audio Statement made my Haputmann Karen DuPuy, Lyran Commonwealth Armed Forces Liason Office, Galatea.
I was the Liason officer for the Furious Angels mission on Quarell. Without going into too much detail, sufficed to say we ran into heavier than expected opposition. The Angels suffered two KIA and multiple WIA during the course of the contract. One of the KIA was Captain Jed Gudin, Major Davout's executive officer, close friend, and my fiancée. Upon touching down, the Furious Angels disembarked to their rented facilities, I went to the Liason office to start the paperwork process. At 1900 I attended the wake at the Regency Grand. I was on my way to join the Major at the Last Stand, I arrived just at the brawl was winding down. That idiot McNab deserved whatever he got.
Date: January 25th, 3026
Time: 0410
Interviewing Officer: Inspector James Dupree
Transcription of Audio Statement made by Ioan MacCrory, Mechwarrior, Fitzhume's Highlanders
We got to the Last Stand about Midnight. It was myself, McNab, Captains Herlihy and O'Bannon, and the members of McNab's Lance. About fifteen after McNab noticed Davout and his friends walk in. Major had had a few, said he was going to the bar for a refill, when I looked up he was over at the table Davout had sat at, was yelling at someone sitting at the table. Given their history, I got up to go get McNab, my friends followed me. Before I got there, the Oriental had McNab on the ground. I didn't see the Major pull a weapon. The Oriental came at me next. I don't remember much after that, I got in a few hits, but...
Date: January 25th, 3026
Transcription of Audio Statement made by John Smith, Mechwarrior, Carter's Crusher's
Look, all I was doing was sitting at my table, enjoying a brew. So I heard some yelling, so what, I didn't pay no attention to it. Next thing I know I'm getting hit by a beer mug in the head. I turn around and bump into one of them Highlanders, he turns around and throws a punch at me. After that, all I remember is throwing punches, getting punched, and that's it. I don't care who started what, all I know is that I was involved through no fault of my own and I got mine.
Date: January 25th, 3026
Transcription of Audio Statement made by Takehito Fitzhume, Commander, Fitzhumes Highlanders
McNab and Davout have a history, going back a few years. After McNab left the LCAF, he was able to prove he had not gambled away his family Zeus, that Louis Berthier, a supply specialist and computer expert, had created a ghost account in McNab's name and made those bets. By the time it was discovered McNab, Davout and Berthier had left the LCAF. Understandably, McNab and Davout have a history with each other. Normally, Russ is a very level headed man, a good commander. I do not know how he is when he drinks, but I am reasonably sure he did not start the brawl.
Final Incident Report
Incident Number 186302501
Reporting Officer: Harris Bergman
On January 25th, at approximately 0100 hours, a brawl occurred at the Last Stand, a bar and grill establishment. After conducting several interviews, collating the data, the time line breaks down as follows.
At approximately midnight, members of the Fitzhume Highlanders Mercenary Unit entered the location and began to drink. An indeterminate amount of time, but not more than a half hour later, members of the Furious Angels Mercenary Unit also entered the establishment. A short time after their arrival, Russ McNab of the Fitzhume Highlanders approached the table where the Furious Angels were sitting, and began to antagonize the members. Based on interviews and medical results (attached Appendix B) McNab was legally drunk at the time of the incident. By most eyewitness accounts, McNab drew a concealed sidearm, and was pointing it in the general direction of the seated Angels when he was disarmed and rendered unconscious by Tang Enbo, a member of the Furious Angels. At that point, members of the Highlanders retaliated against the Angel's, and given the confines of the establishment, a general brawl ensued.
In consultation with the City Attorny, and the MRBC, it is determined that the responsibility of the action lies entirely with members of Fitzhume's Highlanders, in particular Russ McNab. However, no charges from members of the Furious Angels against the Highlanders are pending at this time. A lien in the amount of damage the establishment has suffered has been placed by the MBRC on Fitzhume's Highlanders. At this time the case remains open.
Signed
Harris Bergman
-
June 16th, 3026
Galatea
Mr. and Mrs. Bessieres,
It is with great sadness that I write to you to inform you that your son Gouvion has been killed in action on Trolloc Prime. Before I can say anything else, I must let you know, I am aware of his history prior to his joining my unit on Galatea in September of last year. I hired your son on at the insistence of one of my officers, Aaron St. Cyr, whom I have been informed you know, and quite well. You should find an accompanying letter from Leutnant St. Cyr in this package.
In the few months I was privileged to work with your son, I knew him as a quiet, hardworking soldier dedicated to his friends and his unit. I know he was quite devastated over losing the ‘mech he had inherited from his father, and while at first I had my misgivings, once I saw how he handled and cared for the Archer I was able to provide him, I firmly believe hiring him was the right thing to do. He comported himself in the unit and on the battlefield with the utmost of skill and personal honor.
Now, as retired members of the LCAF I know you are aware of the restrictions placed on what can and cannot be discussed about ongoing Military Operations. With that said, I am going to tell you what happened on Trolloc Prime. Anything less would be a disservice to Gouvion and his actions.
My unit was contracted to conduct a raid on Trolloc Prime, there was evidence that the Draconis Combine was building up supplies on the planet. The Angels were accompanied by a company of the 22nd Skye Rangers. Previous intelligence estimates put a company’s worth of mechs from the 4th Arkab, in addition to the various planetary militia units. Our orders were to meet with a local resistance cell, and coordinate with them. Needless to say, running into a Battalions worth of 2nd Sword of Light Mechs was not in the OpPlan.
My Forward Lance, of which Gouvion was a member, was ambushed by two lances of Sword Heavy Mechs. My other lances and the remaining 22nd Skye units were also engaged, we could not reinforce them. According to the battleROM’s, Gouvion’s Archer was heavily damaged in the opening volley’s, its legs were badly damaged limiting its mobility. He took refuge in a copse of tree’s, using them as cover while the rest of the lance retreated. His LRM’s empty, the woods on fire around him, he challenged a Drac Archer to single combat.
I regret to say he did not succeed in this endeavor, according to reports from “other†battle observers, he was beaten fairly quickly, but that had to do more with the damage his mech had suffered than his skill. Apparently, he ejected safely when the reactor went critical. Events after this are unclear. He was promptly captured by militia infantry, while the remaining Drac units went after my retreating units, the “other†observers moved in to try and rescue him. After a brief firefight, Gouvion’s body was recovered, it had multiple bullets wounds. Attempts to return the body were unsuccessful.
It is without a doubt that I say your sons stand allowed his lancemates to withdraw in good order. His courage and tenacity in this battle are not in question, and they have not been since he joined. I should note that before we boosted off Trolloc Prime, his close friend Leutnant Aaron St. Cyr challenged and killed the mechwarrior who killed your son. Apparently this pilot was boasting of his kill before the battle, per an…arrangement… with Sho-Sa Pierce single combat was agreed to.
Accompanying this letter are Gouvion’s personal effects, and a MRBC backed note in the amount of 2,928,810 C-Bills. This amount is the net worth of Gouvions shares when he was killed. The unit voted unanimously to send this share to you, please accept them with our gratitude and thanks.
In addition, is it entirely possible that at some point in the near future you may receive a communication from the Draconis Combine. I urge you, with every fiber of my being, to read it before discarding it.
It was a privilege to be Gouvion’s commanding officer, and an honor to be his friend. His loss has been felt by all in our extended family, and if there is anything myself or the rest of the unit can do, please do not hesitate to ask. It is with the deepest regret that we cannot attend a service for Gouvion at this point in time, our travels take us away from Gacrux, but rest assured that at some point in the near future we will stop by and pay our regards to our departed friend and fellow mechwarrior.
Respectfully,
Andrew Davout
Furious Angels
Commanding
June 26th, 3026
From the Office of Sho-Sa Suichi Pierce
2nd Battalion, 2nd Sword of Light
The Steel Dragons
Honored Mother and Father,
Enclosed are the remains of your son, Gouvion Raoul Bessieres. Though he was a mercenary, his actions on the battlefield in my opinion went above and beyond what was required and expected of any soldier, and he deserves an honorable return to his unit and family. I am not saddened by the death of the man who killed him, he did so against my direct orders, and though I have expended a great deal of personal favors and honor to return your sons remains, to not do so would be a stain on his sacrifice and my honor.
It is with the utmost regret that I cannot accompany these remains to their proper end, a warrior such as Gouvion deserves a worthy escort, and circumstances prevent my doing so.
With your permission, I have asked the head of the Buddhist monastery at St. Lucille to visit your sons gravesite, to burn an offering and say a prayer. If this is acceptable to you please contact St.Lucilles at your convenience.
Suichi Pierce
Sho-Sa, 2nd Sword of Light
-
Author's Note: The following is taken from a series of meetings held after the completion of the Angels contract on Galisteo. The contents are reprinted with the express permission of the unit. Brian McEuen.
Davout: So, where do we stand Vauban?
Gerald Vauban is the Furious Angels Senior Tech: 25 Mechs on the roster, 19 Battle Ready, 6 in the shop. Worst damaged are the Victor and Zeus. I've got Roswood on the Victor, we're going to have to do a complete gyro replacement on that. Van Coehoorn has an idea for the Zeus he wants to run by you. I'd listen to him, and Berthier says the money is there to get it done right.
Oudinot: After these last contracts money isn't going to be a problem.
(General Laughter)
Davout: I don't disagree, but let's keep a lid on it. Curtis, what's the word on the Festung?
Wilbur Curtis is the senior Dropship Captain of the Furious Angels.
Curtis: Could be better, could be a lot worse. Actually, about what you'd expect for Periphery. Some jury rigging and slapdash work, but its solid. Vehicle bays are going to need some major work, they didn't have any vehicles and used them for just about everything else.
Davout: Louis, and word on the recruiting front about that?
Louis Berthier, chief Administrator of the Furious Angels: None. Well, let me rephrase that, none I'd hire. There was an armor company I was paying attention to, but they hired out to Davion while we were on Galisteo. Which leads me to something else. My friend has some...interesting information to pass along, maybe some of you can make some heads of it.
Brian Morand, the Angels Second in Command: Intel's not the sergeants strong suit Louis.
Oudinot: I'll remember that next time were in the ring....sir.
Berthier: Anyways, while we were...out, the Fed Suns have been active.
Davout: Oh? How's that?
(Silence, and some tapping).
Jacob Lannes, Sergeant: Holy...
Davout: Louis, what is that.
Berthier: That is Operation Galahad. It ended last month.
Aaron St. Cyr, Leutant: How many units is that?
Berthier: 10 Regimental Combat Teams and Ancillary Units. That's 10 Mech Regiments and 100 other Divisions.
(Garbled mutterings)
Davout: Well, there's a reason they call him the Fox.
Tang Enbo, Leutnant: The Chancellor must be having all sorts of fits over this.
Davout: I can imagine, but that's not what worries me. How's Kurita taking it?
Berthier: You have 10 mech regiments and 100 other Regiments moving en masse on your border, how do you think he's going to take it?
Davout: Ask a stupid question...That is interesting. Haven't seen that sort of movement in a long time. Second Succession War at least. Coordinating that must have been a cast iron bitch...How Long?
Berthier: Three Months.
Davout: Interesting...
Oudinot: I know that look sir...
Davout: Hmm, what? No, you know me Top, just wondering for a minute. So, about that armor support?
Berthier: Nothing out there, well, that we would want. Had a couple come to us looking for employment, but....
Morand: Look, not to speak ill of the dead, but Hampton and his Lance didn't work out so well.
St. Cyr: That wasn't exactly our fault Brian.
Morand: I know that, but...
Berthier: The employment opportunities are better if we're more than just a ‘mech unit. We've been over that before.
Morand: Then why not subcontract?
Davout: No. If we need it, we get it ourselves. I don't want to send good money to a unit that may leave us high and dry. We go in as a whole unit, a single unified command. They have the Angel on their shoulder or we don't use them.
Later Conversation.
Davout: 110 Regiments...
Karen DuPuy, LCAF Mercenary Liason Officer: RUMINT says we're getting ready to do the same thing.
Davout: Well, you can't keep movements like that hidden for long.
DuPuy: It's going to be merry hell on activities for awhile. Being on a heightened state of alert, you can expect a quick, decisive response.
Davout: That sounds like an offer.
DuPuy: It can be. We have some actionable intel, and it is in an area your familiar with.
Davout: As long as it's not against the Second Sword of Light, I'll consider it.
(Pause)
Davout: Is it against the Second?
DuPuy: Possibly. Last report says there's only a company of DCMS mechs on planet and that's 2nd Dieron.
(Sighs)
Davout: What's the catch?
DuPuy: None. And frankly it offends me you'd ask that. I've always been up front and fair with you.
Davout: Right, it's the Intel weenies I need to have corner in a dark alleyway.
DuPuy: My point...
Davout: I know, I know. Look, we've got other offers on the table as well. Marik is very impressed with us, if I didn't know any better I'd say they're ready to offer us something long term.
DuPuy: What if I could offer something better?
Later Conversation
Davout: So, that's the offer.
Oudinot: Seems too good to be true.
Davout: It does.
Morand: Can I ask something without any of you jumping down my throat?
Davout: No Promises.
(Laughter)
Morand: Is it possible they're trying to pull the Company Store business?
(Silence)
Davout: Thoughts crossed my mind.
St. Cyr: If it was the Dracs, I'd be worried about it more, but let's be honest, the LCAF isn't known for the company store. It's leadership that drove a lot of Mercs away.
Davout: I talked to Fischer earlier. He said the Light Horse were treated pretty well by, supply wise. Leadership wise....
St.Cyr: That's the Light Horse though.
Oudinot: Meaning?
St. Cyr: Meaning they might get some consideration. We don't, or won't.
Davout: Well, we have more pull with Steiner and Marik than we do with any other house. And the Feddies have made some overtures as well.
Joachim Moncey, Sergeant: Can I say something?
Morand: Hey, the Quiet Man speaks...
(General Laughter).
Davout: Open table Joachim.
Moncey: Sir, I'm tired.
Morand: We all are Joachim, its 130 in the AM here,
Moncey: That's not what I mean sir. I'm tired. We've been straight combat ops for the better part of two years. And honestly a month break between contracts isn't enough to wind down before going out again. I've destroyed more mechs in the past two years than I had the previous ten...
Morand: Is there a point in there somewheres Sergeant?
Oudinot: Let the Sergeant speak Captain.
(Silence)
Moncey: Look, Major, I'll follow you anywheres, the troops will follow you anywheres. It's been a fun and exciting 24 months. But the blade is beginning to dull. We need a rest.
(Silence)
Moncey: Look, here's what I know, for sure. I am proud to be a member of this unit. But it's grown beyond what I thought it would be, and what you thought it would be. We're 389 personal now, unless Abigail has given birth.
St.Cyr: She hasn't, but I thank you for asking. Three more weeks.
Moncey: 389 and eight ninths then. Anyways, Sir. They need a home. A place to set down some roots that isn't part of a dropship deck, A place where we can sit down at night and watch the sun set and not have to worry about what's over the next ridge. They deserve that much. I'm not saying we have to accept a long term garrison contract on some backwater, but a planet to go home to, sunsets. Galatea's nice and all, but do we want to call this sort of existence home?
Later Conversation
Davout: How's Brian?
Oudinot: Doc Lisfranc says he'll be fine. He'll have a shiner for awhile.
Davout: Did you have to hit him?
Oudinot: It's not like I didn't warn him. He's starting to become a problem, he's going to screw up one of these days because thus far he's been invincible. I realize he's the 2iC, but he's not exactly behaving as an officer and a gentleman lately. Besides, I just tapped him. Moncey would have crushed both his hands and kept going.
Davout: Worried he'll hurt himself, let his pride and his mouth get in the way?
Oudinot: Worried he'll get someone else hurt, or worse. Have you watched his last battle ROM?
Davout: No. But there is a reason I kept him in the Hawk. Grab us a Tellerman out of the cooler there Top.
Oudinot: Here ya go. So, what did you think about Moncey's speech.
Davout: I think that's the most words I've heard the man string together since I've known him...
Oudinot: And?
Davout: Sergeant has a point.
(Pause)
Davout: 110 regiments...Nate, did you ever feel like you were on the cusp of something big, something...
Oudinot: Crap, you're going to go academic on me now....
Davout (laughing): No, no, well....Maybe. Look, when's the last time you felt like you were participating in something, I don't know, bigger than world changing?
Oudinot: You mean other than Hesperus in '19, or Poulsbo, or...
Davout: Nate, something big is in the works. I can't quite explain it, but the clues are there...
Oudinot: Meaning what, sir?
Davout: Meaning I think we are about to enter the time of leading interesting lives.
Oudinot: Perhaps. Would be nice to have a place to call home for that time.
(Heavy Sigh)
Davout: True, very true.
-
From transcripts taken from recordings April 20th, 3027 to July 21st, 3027
Andrew Davout: What is this all about Louis?
Louis Berthier, Chief Administrator for the Furious Angels. You need to look at this. Sit down.
AD: What exactly am I looking at here? Looks like a standard OPORD. I see and sign more than a few of these on a contract Louis.
LB: Look at the date.
AD: And?
LB: You mind telling me how you're going to generate this tasking order while lying comatose in the CASH? I know your good commander, and Doc Lisfranc is fab with the scalpel and all, but it is kinda hard for you to be issuing that order.
AD: True, let me see this. Issued March 13th, and two days later we lost 3 good pilots. A convoy raid. Pierre said as far as he knew Skirmish Troop was flanking Ready Troop and came upon the convoy, then were flanked and forced back. We still have the ROM's on those?
LB: Sort of.
AD: Sort of? What sort of blivet answer is that?
LB: They've been tampered with. No video, partial audio only. From everyone that day.
AD: How is that possible.
LB: Someone introduced a Remora virus into the database. It was designed to latch on to that days information, video or otherwise, and corrupt it.
AD: Let's pretend I understand what you just said. Are we looking at outside interference on that?
LB: It's possible. I thought that at first, but then if you want to cripple someone, why target just one day, just a certain time block? Why not wipe out everything.
AD: Test Run perhaps?
LB: Though had occurred to me, but there's been nothing like this before or since. I'm tracking it down, once we find out how it was introduced to the system, we can go from there.
AD: OK, What's on the agenda for this afternoon?
LB: Interviews, one to pay attention to is Dan Rundstedt. He's CO of a Heavy Armor Lance, looking for new employer.
AD: What sort of heavy Armor.
LB: The 12 PPC's type of Heavy Armor. I'll get back to you on this.
BREAKBREAKBREAKBREAK
Andrew Davout: Enter!
John Friant: You wanted to see me bossman?
AD: Ja. Sit.
<Door Shuts>
JF: What's up.
<Pause>
JF: You're fiddling with the cross, this can't be good news.
AD: I need a favor Johnnie. And I'll be honest with you. If what I am about to ask you goes wrong, you won't be part of the unit anymore. You'll be exiled, hated, and most likely dispossessed.
JF: I'm your wingman on a date, aren't I?
AD: I'm serious here Johnnie. Deathly. In fact, to show how serious I am...
JF: What is this?
AD: Open it.
<Tearing Sounds>
JF <Whistling>: That's a lot of C-Bills.
AD: That's from my own personal account. You'll notice that the sum is equivalent to the cost of your mech plus your shares in the Angels.
JF: I don't have that many shares...
AD: Call it a favor then. From me to you. I owe you a couple.
JF: You got me away from the Hand and off Delacour, and you took care of me when I lost my Wolverine. I do this and we're even.
AD: You do this and I'll owe you for awhile.
JF: What do you need me to do?
AD: Someone on the inside faked an OPORD while we were on Tsukude.
JF: Okay.
AD: That OPORD got Rob Ney and Piet Bagration Killed, and cost me four heavily damaged mechs with nothing gained. I need you to be you. Be quiet, be observant. Ask a few questions every now and then. But I need you to dig. You find something, anything, you tell me, or you tell Louis, and then you tell no one else. But this has got to be a one man show. You get caught, I don't know what you're doing or why.
<Pause>
JF: Did Eric die as a result of what this may be as well?
AD: Honestly? I don't think so. I can't rule it out, but Eric died two hundred clicks away from where Skirmish and Ready troops were engaged. Now, no such thing as coincidence on a battlefield and all that, but no. I don't think so.
JF: He saved my ass more than once.
AD: We've all saved each other more than once. Which is why this is...mildly annoying at this point.
JF: And when it stops being annoying?
AD: Then the gloves come off. Delcaour rules, no bag limit.
<Pause>
JF: Okay, I'm in, one condition.
AD: Name it.
BREAKBREAKBREAK
<Knocking>
LB: Message for you.
AD: Leave it in the Pile.
LB: It's from our Charming Snake Friend.
AD: Hand it over and shut the door.
<Pause>
AD: You read this yet?
LB: Haven't had a chance to break the code.
<Reading>
Hello Andrew, I hope this message finds you in good health. I recently undertook a pilgrimage to Tsukude, to take part in their annual Chrysanthemum Festival. In addition I have been tasked by General Tengwan in finding out everything we can about you. I must compliment you on your recent campaign here, even the General has commented on it. General von Galberston remains unimpressed with the Commonwealth as a whole, including the sell swords who work for it. His opinion of you seems to be common, but I feel it is in error. Sho-Sa Kuichi has been transferred to the 2nd Legion of Vega for his...recent shortcomings.
As part of my interview I talked to the widow of a young Infantry officer who was part of a convoy attacked by mercenary units this past March. She recalled it quite well, for her husband was quite proud to be an escort for this unit. Each year, after the harvest, farmers take their crop to the local market to sell. In return, they receive a marker. They then take this marker to the bank, and in return for the marker, receive a sum of hard cash. The vast majority of the transactions on planet are electronic, but there is some symbolism in receiving your marker and taking it to the bank, especially in the outlying towns and communities.. The convoy that was attacked is one of the largest on planet, in fact it has been attacked in the past by various criminal elements, to the point where the local militia undertakes several deceptive measures, including fake convoys.
This year, for whatever reason, only the main convoy was attacked, and that was by elements of “Mercenary Bandits†working with a local Yakuza element from Jinjiroton. Fortunately, an informer from the Yakuza spoiled the plan, and allowed the convoy to be reinforced. I find it odd that no other convoy was attacked at all, apparently they all are a target of some sort during this time...
The festival itself...blah blah blah...
Sincerely,
Suichi Pierce
<Paper Folding>
Who did we have in Jinjiroton?
LF: Captain Morand was there with 2nd Squadron and Valhalla's Trumpet.
AD: That makes sense given some of the other information I have.
LF: Care to share some of that?
<Pause>
LF: Not a problem.
AD: So, let's concentrate on who was assigned to Jinjiroton for the duration.
LF: Will do.
AD: Find Top while you can, have him come see me.
LF: Will do. Also, DuPuy has sent over a few proposals, I think you'll like a couple of them.
AD: Okay, I'll look after them after I talk with Nate. How did the Armor Troop do today?
LB: Three, one and one. Rundstedts' got his act together, and it shows. He suckered Morand into a rolling ambush with St. Cyr, headcapped Enbo twice...I'll get you the ROM's if you'd like.
AD: Definitely. <pause> I don't ever remember this much paperwork in the 9th, or the 15th.
LB: That's because I did a lot of it for you.
AD: Gee, thanks. And now?
LB: This is the stuff I can't do. You want to swing by my workspace sometime and see what I deal with you're more than welcome to.
-
Andrew Davout: What's the damage?
Alain LisFranc, Chief Medico for the Furious Angels: Multiple broken bones in his right hand, broken right forearm, punctured lung, multiple facial injuries. His jaws wired shut, so don't expect anything for awhile after he wakes up. If he wakes up.
AD: He's got everything he needs here, right? You don't need me to steal anything from a local hospital, do you?
AL: If I were any more awake I'd be insulted, but no. Moving him might do more damage in the short term. We're good here.
AD: OK. He say anything before you got to him?
AL: No, but I wasn't the First Responder, that was Erica, um, MedSarge Curie. She commed me a short while ago to talk about this.
<Pause>
AD: Top? Andrew. Find Medical Sergeant Curie and bring her to Friant's room ASAP.
<BREAK>
Erica Curie, Medical Sergeant: Sir?
AD: You won't believe me when I tell you this, but honestly, you have nothing to worry about Sergeant. Just tell me the details about tonight.
EC: Um, not a lot to tell really. Alec and Bailey, they're a couple of Tech's with B Squadron, they were walking back from the Hard Six, it's a bar on the outskirts, saw a fight going on in an alleyway, saw Warrior Friant was involved, and when they moved to help him, the other assailants ran off.
AD: They report this to anyone?
Nathan Oudinot: City PD has no reports. Not the best area of town, it's pretty popular with some of the unit when we're back here.
EC: Sir? Can I say something?
AD: Go ahead
EC: Something doesn't look right with this. Friant's injuries were pretty severe, to the point he shouldn't have been standing in the condition Alec and Bailey found him in.
<Pause> Whispering between Oudinot and Davout>
AD: How so?
EC: The injuries Warrior Friant suffered, in particular the punctured lung, he shouldn't have survived as long as he did, and at least as long as Alec and Bailey said it took for them to get here. They did a decent job on the initial field medicine, but that lung should have done him in. I was on my way to tell Dos Lisfranc about this when the Top called for me.
AD: Thank you Sergeant. At this time I want you to accompany Sergeant Oudinot to Chief Berthier's office, and I want you to swear a statement into the record.
EC: Yes Sir.
AD: Top, Comm Sergeant Lannes and Leutnant Rundstedt and have them get here ASAP.
NO: Right away sir.
<BREAK>
AD: Dan, I know this is going to seem out of the ordinary, but you're the on the short list. We are looking for two techs from Bravo Sqaudron, Alec Murray and Bailey Santos. Use whatever means you have to get them back here.
Dan Rundstedt, Vehicle Troop Commander: Any means?
AD: As long as they get back here alive, any means. And yes, I know what that's risking.
DR: You got it sir.
<PAUSE>
AD: Jacob, when the Leutnant returns with those two sweating them is your bailiwick. Understand?
Jacob Lannes: Sir, I'm not comfortable with that.
AD: I'm not asking you if you're comfortable with that Jake, I'm ordering you. You don't have to like it, but you do have to do it. You don't want to do it, I'll take your letter of resignation on my desk in five minutes and your shares will be in the bank tomorrow.
JL: Sir!
AD: Stow it Jake. I've three dead pilot's, one a step away from life support, and the two men who may be responsible are nowhere to be found, and worse this is all in unit. This is family, and I am not going to involve any outsiders unless I absolutely have to. Understand?
JL: Yessir.
AD: If it soothes that ego of yours, record everything. You want that in writing, I'll get it to you.
JL: Yessir, thank you sir.
BREAKBREAKBREAK
Andrew Davout: Are we Positive it's them?
Harris Bergman, Galatea Police Department: We're waiting on the final DNA tests to be run, but I think it would take something more than a miracle for it no to be them.
AD: Can you tell me what you do know?
HB: It appears that they got into a fight. One of them pulled a sidearm, then the other, then the lead started flying. Can't tell who hit who first, but Alec took three in the chest at various points and Bailey got two in the arm and one in the head. Ballistics are clear.
AD: So why did it take this long to figure out who they were?
HB: That's not the best part of town to begin with, and the bodies were looted, at least we think they were looted, it's the best explanation as to why all of their ID and valuables were missing. We conducted a search of the area, shook down most of the raff, and got the three monkey's act. What most likely happened is that Alec and Bailey got into a tiff, shot each other, and someone came along and took everything of value on the body. It took time to run them through the system, and given the number of transients we have on planet that can take some time.
AD: And the least likely explanation?
HB: There was a third party involved. Both Alec and Bailey were at the same dive an hour before TOD, and on the wrong side of drunk according to the bartender. Third party gets them into the alley, shoots them, steals everything of value. It's not likely though, that scenario just doesn't fit the forensics.
AD <Sighing>: Scheisse. Well, that puts a damper on things going on here.
HB: I'm not going to pry there.
AD: Thanks. Is there anything else we have to do?
HB: Someone needs to come claim the bodies. I'm assuming they have wills or something that they want followed.
AD: I'll have someone take care of it tomorrow afternoon. We have a service in the morning.
HB: That's awful quick.
AD: It's not for them, it's for John Friant, the ‘warrior they put into IC. He died last night.
HB <Pause> I am sorry to hear that.
AD: Yeah, well, verdamnt blockbumsen all around. <Pause>. Well, Thanks for stopping by.
HB: Anytime.
BREAKBREAKBREAK
One Week later.
The Furious Angels are crowded into an auditorium. All of them, from the dropship crews to the tech assistants, administrative help to medtechs. The only members of the Furious Angels family not present are the wives and children, although I suspect the wives will know what this meeting is about. The last time everyone was gathered together was at John Friants burial, a somber affair. This gathering looks to be even less cheerful. The room is on the wrong side of hot, and the airflow is messed up, and if I did not know Andrew Davout, I'd say it was intentional. He is the only person standing on the stage, wrapped in his thoughts, walking back and forth in a tight figure eight, his right hand absently playing with the cross around his neck. At precisely 1400 the senior sergeants at the doors close them, and Davout is still on the stage, walking back and forth.
He stops walking, near the center of the stage, and looks out at the assembled crowd.
People ask what we do this for. They say it's just for the money, that we have no scruples, no moral's, no ideals to uphold. That if a better contract came along we'd ditch the current one and head out as fast as we could pack. That we are in it for the money, and the money only. I say that's complete and utter crap. Are they going to go to a Dragoon, a Light Horseman, a Blue Star Irregular, and throw that in their face? Anyone here want to tell me that Gouvion Bessieres was in it for the money alone? That John Friant was in it for the money? Was Abigail Freeman in it for the money when she went into the vacuum above Tsukude to shut down the react valve on the Trumpet? There are plenty of examples, in just our unit alone, where money was not the motivating factor for a person's behavior.
There's more to this life than the money. Some are in it for the glory, some are in it because they know nothing else. I think, rather, I know that for many of us, we are here because of the bond we have with our fellow soldier, or crewman. Call it camaraderie, call it brotherhood, call it love, each of us has in the room at minimum one other person we'd willingly trust our lives too. That when the call comes and we have to stand up to fight, we expect them to be there and cover for us, to do everything necessary to help us, protect us.
As your commander, I feel that responsibility the most. And the fact of the matter is, no matter how hard I try, no matter what I do, I know that when we go into combat, I will fail some of you. I will not be able to protect you. I may fall one day
You all know my personal history. You know that this unit is my family. That it has, in many ways, become more than my family. I lean on some of you, all of you really, but some of you more than others. Until recently, our run has been pretty good. What lows we've had have been more than balanced out by some very big highs. We've been successful, but we've paid for it. And as with all things a family pays for, this one has cost us dearly.
All that being said, as within all large families, there is some change. I suspect the family RUMINT is ahead of me on this one, but tomorrow morning I will sign a contract with the LCAF. We will be going to Arcadia, and once there we will spend a minimum of 12 months training with the Arcadia Militia. As an adjunct to the contract, I've bought a decent amount of land with the company funds on Arcadia. Plots will be made available at cost to those wishing to buy, outright in fee simple as well. The land remains ours, there are some military conditions attached to that, but that shouldn't impact our holdings on planet.
While he has been saying this, Davout has walked off the elevated stage and into the assembly, standing next to some of the mechwarriors of his Alpha Troop. Several members are seen talking amongst themselves, many smiles have broken out over the news of a permanent home.
That said, there are going to be some changes and reorganization. This represents a good opportunity for us to mix things up, change a few things that need to be changed.
“TROOPS!” For such a small man Sergeant Oudinot has a large voice. The one word shakes the auditorium out of their momentary reverie. “ATTEN-SHUN!”
It's not close to being parade ground worthy, but the assembly comes to attention as best as it can.
I want all Senior Officers and Mech Sergeants in a line at the stage. Davout says. “Everyone else is dismissed with three days Liberty.”
There are catcalls and whooping as the assembly files out the doors. Once they are gone, the sergeants at the door close them.
Alan Bernadotte, Senior Leftenant: You think three days Liberty is enough?
AD: I'm sure some of them will regret it.
Brian Morand, Captain: I know I won't. <chuckles>
AD: Actually, Brian, you don't get liberty.
BM: And how's that Andrew?
AD: Liberty is for those people who are still members of the unit. As of 30 minutes ago, you're out.
BM: Now what the hell are you going on –
<Sounds of a scuffle>
BM: Mother-
AD: DON'T YOU DARE, YOU VERDAMNT BASTARD!
Joachim Moncey, Sergeant <sotto voce to Nathan Oudinot>: What the hell is this about?
NO: I don't know, but I'd stay out of the way.
<Sounds of a fight>
AD: Did you honestly think-
AD: That you were going to get away with it?
Less than a minute has gone by. When two men who know how to use their fists get into a fight, it rarely lasts long. Davout, bleeding from the lips, is standing over Morand. Oudinot pull him back.
BM: What the hell are you talking about? <groans>
AD: You think you could sneak one past me? Past Louis? That we wouldn't find out? The Remora was a nice try, but you didn't erase everything.
BM: What the hell. Whats a Remora-
AD: You dummied up that OPORD, going after that damned gold convoy on Tsukude, Net and Bagration saw C-Bills, same as you did, but they died when the convoy they hit was a dummy.
BM: What sort of bull is this. What OPORD-
AD: Don't play stupid Brian. I know all about dummying up orders and invoices, and I know a bad attempt when I see one. Problem was, you couldn't do it yourself, you needed help. Alec was good with a comp, in fact we traced the Remora to him. Bailey, Bailey was a fixer, he knew people.
BM: That's the most farfetched thing I've heard.
AD: It's only farfetched if you don't have proof.
BM: Even if you did who'd believe you?
<Silence>
<A Door in the back opens. A figure limps down.>
John Friant: I'd believe them. <Friant raises a gun and aims it at Morand. Before he can fire though he is tackled to the ground by Alan Bernadotte and Joachim Moncey.
AD: You are out. Your stuff is packed-
BM: What about my shares –
AD: You don't get any shares. I don't care what you did in the past Brian, how much you bled for them, how hard you worked to earn them. Your shares are being divided, half goes to Bagration‘s family, half goes to Neys family.
BM: I'll take this to the Board.
AD: You do that and you'll be Dispossessed before the day is out.
<Someone gasps.>
AD: I can abide a few things. I know a couple of Angles who've gambled away their shares, I know a couple who have drinking problems. I know of one who is having an affair with another person's wife. If and when those come to a head, I will deal with them appropriately. Were you paying attention to what I was just saying, about Cameraderie? Brotherhood? How am I supposed to keep this unit together when the man who used to be my friend, who was my right arm for all those years, how do I keep that together when he threw it all away for money? I can understand wanting more than we have, hell I consider us lucky because we actually have some savings. How many units would go into the Company Store for a deal we just landed? But stealing?
I can live with few things, I can tolerate them to a degree. But one of the things I cannot, will not-will not-live with, is a thief. Moreover, a thief who in the act got not one, but two people killed. Two people that were his FRIENDS.
<Pause>
So you go ahead Brian, you fight this. And I guarantee you that by the end of business today you'll be behind bars with a home and without a ride. And then I'll com your parents, give them the briefest of details; and then you can explain to the family how and why the Phoenix Hawk that's been in your family for 5 generations is gone.
<Pause>
BM: Fine. Fine, I'll go.
AD: Good. And Brian? Don't ever cross my path again, I don't care where we are, I don't care what we're doing, I see you, I will put an end to you. You get me?
<Morand, cradling an arm, walks out of the auditorium as fast as he can. Davout moves slowly to the edge of the stage, where he sits down and nurses a jaw.
Dan Rundstedt, Armor Commander, Leftenant: OK, I'm pretty sure this isn't what I signed on for.
Alan Bernadotte: Not sure any of us did. That was hardcore Major.
AD: Had to be done. We need to get ahead of this. By then end of today, I want everybody in the unit to know what happened, and why. I don't want Morand out there trying to spin things his way.
Nathan Oudinot, First Sergeant: Louis and I will take care of that.
Louis Berthier: We Will?
AD: Onto other business. Alan?
AB: Yes?
AD: Your Senior Leftenant. That makes you the new Captain od B Squadron. Who gets your Troop?
Joachim Moncey: Don't look at me. I'm happy where I am.
Alan Bernadotte: Chasseur. He's ready.
AD: Done. Christ, I think he broke a rib...
AB: Lets go get that looked at.
-
Brian McEuen: Is there a unit, or rather type of unit, that you are trying to pattern the Furious Angels after?
Andrew Davout: In what way?
McEuen: Well, to be honest my question is very open to interpretation, I understand that, but as an example, you don't have two companies, you have two Squadrons, and instead of Lances you have Troops…an attempt to be different?
Davout: In a way. Those are Cavalry designations, as old as the horse and stirrup days.
McEuen: A FedSuns affection?
Davout: <Snorts> Hardly. It's not as if they corner the market on tradition. Many mechwarriors identify with the "Knight in Shining Armor on top of the War Horse" mentality, there's a romance to it. Each unit has an identity, whether good or bad, that helps keep it together. A common belief system, a common goal, common training, they all come together to help form a one single thread that a member can look at and claim not only as something as their own, but something unique in that it's as well. It could be many things rolled into one. When we started we we're OK, we were all LCAF veterans of one sort or another, and it did us well, but now I've got members with all sorts of experience, from the LCAF, to the Free Worlds, to the Capellan Confederation, and to be honest, we're evolving. I'm evolving as a commander as well. You have to, ossify and get trapped into a single way of thinking, you're going to end up dead.
McEuen: So you're trying to develop a sense of Esprit du Corps then? Beyond training?
Davout: Yes, and no. It depends on what part of morale you refer to with that. In the Angels case the fact that we have good supplies, a new home, are on a winning streak, and mostly come from a common military background is an element of that. History is replete with units who were in that same situation but cracked under the first signs of combat. When the chips are down, when the drop goes wrong, we're outmaneuvered, out of supply, and the only thing we have to rely on is each other and our training, that's the Esprit du Corps I am looking to build. Part of me is somewhat eager to see how the guys react in that situation. We've been in situations before where it's come into play, Elgin in particular, but that wasn't as catastrophic as some of other horror stories you hear about...
McEuen: That's a bit...
Davout: Perverse, I know. But you spend a lot of time and energy trying to give the unit an identity, to build that esprit, to what end. Why go through all the trouble if you're afraid to find out the results of those efforts? You have to be willing to accept failure, or at least the possibility of failure, and if you can't, you're in the wrong business. And you certainly aren't command material.
McEuen: Is that what the organizational names are for?
Davout: In one sense, yes. Sometimes different is good, and there's an old saying that follows the cav around: "If you ain't Cav, you ain't shit."
McEuen: <Laughs> Is it supposed to be deliberately offensive?
Davout: <Laughing>. In some ways, it is. Depends on who you are referring to. A unit like the FedSuns Armored Cav, or 10th Lyran, they won't find it offensive, I hope. A Unit like 5th Sword, they might find it offensive from a "Hubristic" point of view. <Pause> I think at the end of the day it's an identity for us to build on and make our own.
McEuen: So what are the main differences? At least organizationally?
Davout: Nomenclature mostly. Companies are Squadrons. Right now we have two Squadrons, 1st and 2nd. 1st Squadron is Apache, Bandit, and Crazyhorse Troops. 2nd Squadron is Eagle, Fox and Grim Troops. The Vehicle Troop is Lion Troop, the Infantry is Longknife Squadron. We all wear spurs, even the armor guys. Well, the Infantry doesn't, at least not all the time.
McEuen: There's this image though of Cavalry, rushing into battle, saving the day at the last image. 4 Assault Mechs, 8 Heavy Mechs, 6 mediums, 3 lights, doesn't exactly lend itself to that image.
Davout: True, but were working on that. Look at it this way, you'll feel us coming before you see us, and if that doesn't worry you...<Chuckles>
McEuen: So how has the move to Arcadia been?
Davout: Fabulous. The locals have been more than wonderful to us, the land we bought was as advertised, first living quarters were there for us when we arrived. We lucked out.
McEuen: Can you tell me about the name?
Davout: Of what, the community? Oh, Fiddler's Green. You're wondering why we called it that?
McEuen: Yes.
Davout: It's from a poem.
McEuen: A poem? That's seems-
Davout: <Interrupting McEuen, softly>
Halfway down the trail to Hell,
In a shady meadow green
Are the Souls of all dead troopers camped,
Near a good old-time canteen.
And this eternal resting place
Is known as Fiddlers' Green.
Marching past, straight through to Hell
The Infantry are seen.
Accompanied by the Engineers,
Artillery and Marines,
For none but the shades of Cavalrymen
Dismount at Fiddlers' Green.
Though some go curving down the trail
To seek a warmer scene.
No trooper ever gets to Hell
Ere he's emptied his canteen.
And so rides back to drink again
With friends at Fiddlers' Green.
And so when man and horse go down
Beneath a saber keen,
Or in a roaring charge of fierce melee
You stop a bullet clean,
And the hostiles come to get your scalp,
Just empty your canteen,
And put your pistol to your head
And go to Fiddlers' Green.
McEuen: <clears throat> A bit macabre.
Davout: Yes, it is, but it's been the Cavalryman's Poem since the 20th Century, and it does speak to what we're trying to build here. Except for the last verse. We may keep that one from the kids….Could be worse though, I could make the guys remember the Hakkapeliitta instead, in the original Finnish. I suspect there's a few Swedes in the Combine using that. <chuckles>
McEuen: So what's your relationship with the local militia been like thus far?
Davout: <Clears Throat> Next to nonexistent. We've been here three weeks, and if you include the 8 days burn time to get planetside, I've had four conversations with our Liason, none have been face to face, and I've yet to meet the CO. Some of the troops have mixed and mingled, and I've met some of the lower level commanders, but I have yet to meet any of the Company Commanders, or the battalion CO. It's troubling. What about you?
McEuen: Still waiting on my press authorization from the Liaison office. “Soon.” Is the typical response.
Davout: Well, the Governor is throwing a ball in a couple of days, my invitation says “Plus One”, you're more than welcome to accompany me.
McEuen: I might have to take you up on that.
<BREAKBREAKBREAK>
Nathan Oudinot: Sounds like they are having some fun in there.
Jacob Lannes: I wouldn't know about that, I've stayed by the car the entire evening, didn't I? Did you manage to meet your counterpart?
Nathan Oudinot: I did. I was not….
Lannes: Impressed?
Oudinot: Look, I'm not saying Arcadia is a backwater or anything like that, but the militia here, just strikes me as unprepared. And men like Cartier and Junger are why we left the LCAF in the first place. Have you talked to Vauban at all?
Lannes: Mixed bag. Commando's, Centurions, Griffins. They have an Atlas that at least 100 years old, Jungers personal vehicle, but he's rarely in the piloting seat. Out of the frying pan, into the fire.
<Crashing sounds, then breaking glass>
Oudinot: What the-?
Lannes: Scheisse-
<Personal Note, McEuen. To call the dinner and party a disaster would be an understatement. Major Davout finally met his counterpart, Kommandant Graf von Jungers, and was less than impressed. Jungers was overdressed for the occasion, a uniform hung with so many medals and ribbons it was impossible for him to have won them all, a fact that Major Davout pointed out in an unkind fashion. The Nagerling sash didn't help him either where Davout was concerned. Things came to a head when the Graf tried asserting command over the Furious Angels, which was not in the contract. The Arcadia Militia XO, Evan Cartier, made this mistake of confronting Davout directly, whereupon he found a quick exit through a window. Cartier tried pressing charges against Davout and the Angels, but a roomful of witnesses was against him, those went nowhere fast. There has been little interaction between the Arcadia Militia and the Furious Angels in the two weeks since.
<PERSISTANT RINGING>
Davout: Oh for crying out - Hello, this is Major Davout.
Alex Cryer: Uh, sir, this is Technician Alex Cryer, Arcadia AstroNav.
Davout: Um, Ok.
Alex Cryer: Uh, yes, Uh, three days ago we had a Jumpship show up at the Nadir point, it detached three Union Class Dropships, it showed up as the same time a regular merchant run?
Davout: Is that a question or a statement of fact?
Cryer: Uh, fact sir. Anyways, Arcadia Flight control made a pass, and they were fired upon by one of the dropships. They aren't merchantmen sir. They're on a 1G burn, they'll be here in 5 days.
Davout: <Pausing> OK, have you contacted the Militia HQ.
Cryer: I tried sir, there was no answer. That is, I called and left a message with Officer on Duty, but he's not called me back per protocol.
Davout: Protocol?
Cryer: There's a list sir, a protocol which has to be followed. I notified the planetary governor's office, Militia HQ, and you guys were next on the list.
Davout: OK, we're notified.
Cryer: OK, Sir, thank you Sir.
Davout: By the way, did the flyby make an ID on those dropships?
Cryer: Uh, just a second, let me check. Uh, yes sir, here it is. Three Union class dropships, they have merc insignia. Let me double check, uh, yes sir. It's the 21st Centauri Sir.
-
(Authors Note) The Arcadia Militia have been fighting for 3 weeks against the 3rd Battalion of the 21st Centauri Lancers. Two weeks after the battlemechs of the Lancers showed up, additional Lancer Units, Infantry and Armor, also arrived on planet. True to their code, the Lancers landed away from most of the major planetary population centers, and have fought several skirmish battles against the militia, prob ing attacks. The aim of their mission though, is still up in the air. One company of medium and light mechs has landed on the small third continent of Arcadia, Tripolis, where there are several mining concerns. The other two companies landed in close support of each other on Arcadia’s Southern Continent, Leonidio. There they have limited themselves to hit and run attacks against several of the intercity convoy’s.
Andrew Davout: This is his plan? 3 weeks of waiting and skirmishing and this is the plan he comes up with?
Hauptmann Angelo Osgoode, LCAF Liason Officer: What objections do you have now, Major?
Davout: Other than it plays into the hands of the 21st, nothing. It’s a great plan. One for the history books and electronic sandtables of every military academy in the Sphere.
Osgoode: I assure you Major, we’ve gone over this before, and we know what we’re doing.
Davout: So did Custer.
Osgoode: Who?
Davout: Nevermind. Let me ask you something. You want to move the bulk of the militia here, to actively engage a unit that, let’s face it, is better trained, better equipped, and better supported? Then engage them in open field combat using tried and true tactics straight out of the manual, a manual the 21st knows inside and out, and you expect them to do what you want them to?
Osgoode: The plan is not without risk, I realize that, and the Colonel realizes that, which is why he is going to be there as well.
Davout: Then I reiterate my objection to holding us in reserve, especially if you mean to keep us in Tripoli. You need us on Leonidio, keeping us here where we can’t come to your help in enough time should anything go wrong is just –
Osgoode: Herr Major, that request is again denied. I know you and the Colonel have gone over this recently, and his order stands, you unit is to stay on Gortynia continent unless the situation radically changes.
Davout: Then I’ll get my people packed up and ready to go.
Osgoode: Against the Colonels’ direct order’s? You’re mad.
Davout: The only thing that’s mad is this plan. It’s a blockbumsen waiting to happen, and I’ll be damned if I have to abide by it. So when you guys screw the pooch and start calling for help, we’ll be loaded up and ready to go. I’ve made to many unprepared combat drops at a moment’s notice, I’m not going to get caught with my pants down this time.
Osgoode: We’ll have to see about that Major.
BREAKBREAKBREAK
Louis Berthier: I think I found an answer to our problem.
Alan Bernadotte: What problem is that Louis?
Louis Berthier: How to get into the fight without breaking contract. There’s a reason you give me the big paycheck.
Bernadotte: Spill.
Berthier: OK, When we first arrived on planet one of the things we discussed with the Militia was a training schedule, which was put together by us and submitted to the Militia HQ. It wasn’t too detailed or too in depth, just a rough outline with a few “fill in the blanks.â€
Bernadotte: I vaguely remember looking at a document that resembled that.
Berthier: Yeah, well, in five days Bravo Troop is supposed to deploy to Leonidio City to commence exercises with the City Milita.
Bernadotte: How does this help us exactly?
Berthier: The City militia is Infantry and Armor, a Regiment of each with support. Want to guess where two Battalions of each are now?
Bernadotte: No way.
Berthier: Kampfgruppen 1st Leonidio, comprising of 1st and 2nd Battalions of 1st Leonidio Armored and 2nd and 3rd Battalions of 1st Leonidio Mechanized Infantry received orders to move out and support the Arcadian Militia in the vicinity of Delphikini two days ago. They are mustering as we speak, and will move out in three days.
Bernadotte: So we can load up and join them in the field. How does that not break contract, we’d be violating orders to stay here.
Berthier: We would be, if von Jungers hadn’t already signed off on the training schedule. Problem is, he has yet to rescind it, what with being busy and all…
Bernadotte: So what, we load up. Jump to the city, and say here we are?
Berthier: Why jump to the city. Schedule said field exercises, why not jump to where the majority of the militia is?
Bernadotte: It’s fiction, but…
Berthier: It’s Legal fiction.
Bernadotte: What’s Andrew have to say about this?
Berthier: Who’s idea do you think it was?
Bernadotte: Still sounds shaky.
Berthier: There’s some precedent. Remember Sanders on Poulsbo?
Bernadotte: Before my time.
Berthier: Same situation, almost. He was commanding 2nd Batt back in the day, Marik raided the planet, he went after the raiders, and was brought up on charges by the local militia. Apparently he forgot to amend his orders about drilling with the militia, and was prosecuted for dereliction.
Bernadotte: Exonerated, Surely.
Berthier: Um, no. Bureaucracy in action. He…retired.
Bernadotte: <Sighs> Why am I not surprised…OK, I assume the orders are cut?
Berthier: As we speak.
Bernadotte: Fine by me. SARGEANT MONCEY!
Joachim Moncey: Sir?
Bernadotte: Troop Status?
Moncey: 12 and 4, Sir.
Bernadotte: And the Trumpet.
Moncey: Five by Five Sir.
Bernadotte: Excellent. Boots and Saddles Sargeant. Leftenants and Sergeants in 5.
Moncey: Right Sir.
Berthier: I swear he looks way too happy when you do that.
Bernadotte: Huh? His expression never changed. Stone Joe…
Berthier: I’ve known him longer. Trust me, he’s ecstatic.
-
September 21ST, 3027
Andrew Davout, CO if the Furious Angels. "What's the damage?"
Menno van Coehoorn, Senior Tech: "Could be worse, Gerards Xiphos is going to need a new hip, that's going to take awhile but we can manage that. Everything else is pretty standard fieldwork stuff.
Davout: Fine, you need a hand let me know, we'll get more people out here to help.
Coehoorn: We're fine. We're cutting it close with on hand supplies though, our shipments have been less than expected.
Davout: Really, how much less?
Coehoorn: Percentage wise, say ten to fifteen percent. You stay out of a long fight, you'll be OK. Anything protracted and I make no guarantees. Some of the civvies are nervous enough as it is carrying ordnance around, let alone into a hot zone.
Davout: Will do. You manage to get a look see at Crauford's Commando Mod?
Coehoorn: It's on my list of things to do today, somewhere around #184. Ask Pasley, he's been elbow's deep in it since she got here.
Davout: Do I sense a tone of disdain in your voice Menno?
Coehoorn: Just a little. She's got that thing jury rigged nine ways to Sunday, and doesn't want us to change anything just "fix" it. But I can't have my guys spend that much time on it to keep it prim and proper, I've already got two hanger queens, I don't think my nerves could take a third one.
Davout: How much time are we talking?
Coehoorn: You know how it is, If I spend four hours fixing a problem that usually requires two, and should require two, then that's two hours that gets devoted to something else. At some point quirkiness has to take a back seat to efficiency.
Davout: Right, and we mechwarriors are nothing but quirky. <smiles>
Coehoorn: I'm eccentric, and I take great joy in calling you quirky. Ord needs to see you before you leave, it concerns the Marauder refit.
Davout: Two Weeks, right? Ord has been calling it the Buccaneer, you know.
Coehoorn: Like I said, quirky.
Davout walks across the hanger bay, chatting with a few techs and runners as they go by. The unit is small enough that he still knows everybody by name, knows a few details about them. He makes his way over to what appears to be at first glance a Marauder, but on closer inspection is a highly modified version. There is muffled yelling coming from inside the torso of the mech. Davout make his way up the gantry quite skillfully, sticking his head inside an open torso assembly.
Davout: You two want to get a room, your starting to make the others blush!
Edward Ord, Mechwarrior: Sorry Sir, just having a problem with the ammo feed here.
Davout: Such as?
Ord: The bodge we came up with isn't working. Last time I was out the feed mechanism jammed and I lost both AC's.
Davout: So what's the issue?
Eric Chard, Senior Tech: We've moved beyond issues into full subscription Sir, it's this damned fool idea of moving the ammo hoppers to the center torso.
Davout: And that's an issue because?
Ord: The original feed belt wasn't long enough. So what we had to was take two feed belts and put them together with a join. Problem then was the feed motor wasn't powerful enough, so we took the motor off an Orion we salvaged back on Tsukude, and it's powerful enough, but the mechanism has the propensity to jam, especially at the most inopportune moments.
Chard: We never should have tried this in the first place, there was plenty of room in each torso for all the ammunition, there would have been no feed belt issues if we had just duplicated the feed system in both torsos.
Ord: Reload would have taken three times as long-
Davout: Look, can I ask you a stupid question?
Ord: Of course sir.
Davout: Have you talked to anyone else about this problem?
Chard: No, I can fix this myself sir.
Davout <sighing>: Chard, I like you, I do, but your pigheadedness is going to get you in trouble one of these days, so I want you to listen up. Put whatever you have about this issue aside and go talk to Lepage, he worked the GM assembly line for Whirlwinds for three years before leaving. Chances are you're going to have to design a new feed mechanism from scratch, and if you have to have something made, do so out of the general fund. There's plenty of places local who could do that, I bet it's pretty simple work. I'd also bet it's an issue with the join getting out of alignment when the mech moves, gets a kink, ammo jams, sometimes you can fix it, other times you can't. So, start with the belt, and once the new one gets installed, go from there.
Chard: Sir, I don't really believe that's necessary-
Davout: Chard, I wasn't asking, you understand?
Chard: Yes Sir.
Davout and Ord share a few words before Davout leaves, heading to a Warhammer at the far end of the bay.
Davout: He's not long for the unit.
McEuen: Sorry?
Davout: Chard. I didn't like him when we hired him, but that's because I am to quick a judge of character. I have to give people an extra chance or three. Chard, he's had about all the chances I am willing to give him. He does excellent work, technically speaking he's probably the best tech we have, but he takes twice as long do a job, and he's too perfect.
McEuen: Too Perfect?
Davout: To exacting, precise, and to set in his ways. Like Ord and the "Buccaneer" for example. I know why Ord moved the ammo, he had a Marauder blown out from under him on Severn with the 8th Donegal due to an ammo explosion, and putting it in the center torso gives it that much more protection, and Ord is paranoid about that happening again. But he's "just a mechwarrior" according to Chard. I'd reassign Chard, but third time wouldn't be a charm I imagine.
McEuen: So what will you do?
Davout: After contract, Buy him out, send him to Galatea with a middling reference. His skills will get him hired somewhere, but for how long? I've got enough headaches to deal with right now, last thing I need is an overconfident tech stuck in his ways making things more difficult for me. I get enough of that from my militia counterparts already-
McEuen: So how difficult are things right now?
Davout: On a scale from 1 to 10? 20. I can't figure out what the 21st is doing, my Liaison is the very definition of worthless, and the militia isn't cooperating with us whatsoever.
McEuen: Well, that does seem to be a two way street-
Davout: You should have seen the message he sent me after I sent B Troop. He was going to get pounded hard, and the only thing that saved him was the 21st saw B troop heading straight for the fight. Ungrateful idiot-
McEuen: What does Captain Bernadotte have to say about it?
Davout: Not much. But he's keeping some things from me, as expected. Sergeant Moncey says von Jungers curses me about every chance he gets, but that's fine. We get status reports every day, the 21st is essentially raiding convoys and the like, but there's no discernible pattern to it. They have a knack for hitting the ones the militia isn't guarding, including the dummy convoys, which could be a good sign. We've had a couple of skirmishes. I'm trying to avoid a direct confrontation, but von Jungers wants a direct stand up battle. 21st isn't playing that game though. They hit us earlier in the week, we took some damage, and they withdrew. They got a few good hits in us, Gerard took an AC shot that smashed his mechs hip, but so far there's just been some skirmishing, nothing too drawn out. They could have pounced Gerard but chose to back off. Right now they seem a bit-aimless in their goals, but that's just my impression of what's going on. It's not like I expected them to share their plan with me.
A communications tech runs up to Davout and hands him a piece of paper. Davout reads it once, twice, then starts fiddling with the cross he's wearing on his neck.
Davout: Tell Tech Gardiner I'll be there in five minutes. Find the other Squadron Leutnants and have them be there as well please. Thanks.
McEuen: Everything OK?
Davout: Hardly. Cartier took a Combined Arms Group into the Hot Gates Valley, and got himself ambushed. Bernadotte had B Squadron on Ready, but von Jungers denied them the use of the dropship, said the airspace was too contested, which is odd considering there hasn't been that much ASF activity since the 21st landed. Bernadotte had to force march to the valley, got there too late. The Militia lost two lances worth of mechs, a companies worth of armor, and the rest is laagered with Bernadotte. Cartier is MIA, the senior militia officers present are KIA or MIA, and von Jungers can't make up his mind on what to do. This is starting to get annoying. All this happened 8 hours ago, and this is the first I am hearing of it.
McEuen: So what are you going to do?
Davout: As much as I hate it, wait and see. We've got a company of the 21st here on Tripolis, but the militia still hasn't finished mustering, and I am not willing to leave them until they are at full muster, or close to it. Truth be told they'd be a in a world of hurt if we hadn't jumped down here when we did, and while von Jungers may not realize that yet, the mining companies do. I'll get Bernadotte on the horn, see what he says, then I'll try the Militia as well. I don't expect them to be accommodating. Besides, we're stuck here at the laager for another few hours minimum. I've got to run. You understand I can't let you sit in on this next meeting?
McEuen: Not a problem.
-
[rockon] I am enjoying this so far and look forward to more.
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Loving this so far O0
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Nice to see you get this back on the rails.
Was still as emotional read as first time.
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It's still got what it takes.
Good to see that you reposted. [rockon]
-
Authors Note:
A short part, but a critical one?
Oct 18th, 3028
Leonidio Plains
Leonidio Continent, Arcadia
Author's note. Somber is not a word I would normally associate with the Furious Angels. In my dealing with them I have seen them happy, sad, determined, upset. But never somber. Even when Davout kicked Morand out of the unit, the vast majority of the personnel were more upset that Morand had tried to defraud the unit, I wasn't at Gouvion Bessieres funeral, but by all accounts it was as much a celebration of a young warriors life, and how he died, and those who were present, when they did talk about it. Sergeant Major Oudinot says Jed Gudins funeral was somber, but this was different.
I heard them first, the mechanical noises of a large warmachine heading our way. Then the ground started to shake lightly. A half a kilometer behind us Leutnant Enbo's Bandit lance waited, 340 tons of firepower waiting for the enemy to make a wrong move.
A half kilometer out the 21st Centauri mechs stopped. Whether by arrangement, tacit or assumed, the 21st Warhammer, Archer, Centurion and Hermes stopped, the Warhammer pilot going so far as to pop his cockpit and stand up. A small convoy of vehicles kept coming. Gesturing over his shoulder, a similar convoy appeared from behind a hillock and made it's way towards where we were standing.
The 21st Centauri convoy stopped about 50 feet away from where we stood, and four people, three of them in 21st Centauri everyday uniforms get out of one truck and headed towards us.
Sam Prescott, Maj, 3rd Battalion 21st Centauri. Major Davout?
Major Andrew Davout, CO, Furious Angels. That's me.
Prescott: Afternoon Major. I am sorry we're meeting under these circumstances. Allow me to present
Captain Nicholas Kernard and Lieutenant Surgeon Paul Fletcher.
Davout: Officers. Allow me to present Captain Paul Chasseur and Senior Tech Louis Berthier
No one mentions the Comstar representative who arrived with the 21st Centauri, they don't have too.
Prescott: Gentlemen. Major, with your permission?
Davout nods. Prescott reaches into his jacket and pulls out a sheaf of papers, opens them and begins reading.
Prescott Major Davout, I transfer to you the bodies of Sergeant Major Joachim Moncey and Captain Alan Bernadotte, recovered by our forces after battle on October 13th. Lieutenant Fletcher is responsible for the care of the two soldiers in question.
Lieutenant Fletcher: Sirs, both bodies were recovered by our forces after their death. While my team and I are not mortuary personnel, you will find the remains in good condition. Due to their injuries though, I would not recommend an open casket.
Prescott hands the papers over to Davout, who simply nods. A group of soldiers from the 21st Centauri remove two caskets from one of the trucks and march them over to another truck, where they are put into a truck the Angels brought along.
Captain Chasseur, Thank you sir.
Prescott: Chasseur, right? You were there, right?
Chassuer: Sort of, my lance prevented your reinforcements from coming through at Bering Pass.
Prescott: Ah, right you are. That was some nice work.
Chasseur: Thank You Sir.
Prescott: Tell me Major, have you had a chance to review what happened?
Davout: Not really. The storm really hit our communications hard, we weren't protected against it, and most of our recordings are EM noise. It was a horrible place to fight a battle, but then again thats why they were moving through there, right? Anyways, what I have are second hand accounts mostly.
Prescott: What I do know is that Captain Bernadotte fell early in the engagement, it appears an SRM salvo hit his cockpit and the Captain blacked out, and may have cracked the . Sergeant-Major Moncey remained close by fighting off Captain Fields command lance by himself, until he himself was brought down when his Orion was legged. After that, it appears that a Sergeant Lannes and a Leftenant Orlov rallied the rest of the company and forced us to withdraw, which stopped the recovery operations we were conducting on the Captains Awesome and the Sergeant-Major's Orion. By that time they had been removed to our CASH a few kilometers away.
Davout: And what of Captain Fields?
Prescott: I find his conduct reprehensible and unbecoming an officer and gentleman of the 21st Centauri. Once it was clear both mechs were down and out of the fight he should have moved on. There was no reason for him to headcap either mech once they were down. That's not what we do Major. Am I to understand the Captain lived?
Davout: Ejected as his core blew. He's currently in the hospital recovering, awaiting repatriation.
Prescott: So, he is dispossessed, and awaiting for us to pay a ransom so he can come back to the unit. I don't think that's going to happen. When you see him next, give he these.
Prescott hands over another sheaf of documents.
Davout: And these are?
Prescott: That's his dismissal and separation from the 21st. Captain Fields has been court martialled in absentia and found guilty on numerous counts of dereliction of duty and conduct unbecoming, and if I could prove that Captain Bernadotte and Sergeant-Major Moncey were alive at the time he fired into their respective cockpits I would have done my level best to hang a murder charge on him. As it is, he gets a kick in the pants and a one way ticket to Galatea. I am sure he'll find employment tough to come by.
Chassuer, who is visibly upset: Thank you Sir.
Prescott: You were his friend Captain?
Chasseur: One of them. His best friend died protecting him until the end Sir.
This takes Prescott and the others Lancers aback. Prescott coughs into his mouth a couple of times.
Prescott: Yes, well...I understand you have three other pilots as well?
Chasseur: "Yes Major. Although one is not in shape to be transported."
Prescott: "I trust you to take care of him then. We'll arrange for the others to be repatriated at some point, If you want to kick Fields off sooner, noone will stop you. Captain?"
Prescott motions to Captain Kernard, who reaches into his jacket and removes several discs. Offering them to Davout, he instead gives them to Berthier when the tech reaches for them.
Prescott: These are our recordings and intercepts of the day in question. I think you will find them...illuminating. At your pleasure Gentlemen?
Davout nods, and Prescott and his men come to attention and salute. Taken a bit by surprise, Davout returns it. Prescott and the other members of the 21st return to their vehicle and drive off, when they reach the lance of mechs the 'hammer pilot closes his cockpit and they turn around and march off.
Berthier: Sir, these are their raw feeds.
Davout: What?
Berthier: The discs, there's 12 of them, one for each mech. These are the recordings from every 21st mech there, they'll in the gaps of what we have.
Davout: Fine, we'll review them after the service at Fiddler's Green.
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Wow...your writing of the conversations and speechs just floors me. [notworthy]
Feels almost life like... O0
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I have to agree with Fedsuns. Superbly Written!
You have a real knack to this! More please. I'm just amazed so few people have reviewed this thus far!
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It does get a little confusing from time to time- sometimes I get muddled about when an event is happening.
But other than that, I'm really enjoying this! Keep it up.
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November 15th, 3027
Arcadia
Authors Note: It has been almost 4 weeks since the Angels buried Captain Morand and Sergeant Major Moncey. Since then, Major Prescott and the 21st have hammered the Arcadian Militia. Local media seems to think there is some sort of tacit agreement between the Furious Angels and 21st Centauri, but the fact of the matter is that von Jungers has refused to coordinate with the Angels, and like any good commander Prescoitt has been concentrating on the easier target. In fact, if not for some battlefield heroics by the Arcadian 3rd Armored Kampfgruppe, von Jungers and most of the remaining militia would have been destroyed or captured. Most of the Furious Angels moved to Leonidio, with only a couple of Lances remaining behind on Tripolis. The Angels have a small Armor component themselves, a Platoon of 4 Schrek PPC Carriers, led by Captain Dan Rundstedt, whome I had the opportunity to talk to after a recent action.
McEuen: So, can you give me a little background on your unit? Where your from, so on.
Rundstedt: Myself and two of my crews are from Bruges, in the Hanseatic League.
McEuen: I'm afraid I don't know to much about that polity.
Rundstedt: Very few do. More concerns at home to worry about that what happens in the deep, which is OK. We're Lyran expats, from back in Archon Elizabeth's day. My father was in the Hansa Security Force, this is what I grew up around.
McEuen: Was being in the military a choice?
Rundstedt: I'd like to think so. There's something about being around these as a kid that makes a distinct impression on you, and you grow up either wanting to be a part of it or hating it. I Loved it, still do. Dad seemed to be of two minds on the issue, he was proud of me, but I think he would have been prouder if I could have taken over the family Commando.
McEuen: So He was a Mechwarrior then?
Rundstedt: Yes. I, however, have an inner ear issue that prevents me from syncing with a neurohelmet properly. I can pilot a mech in a pinch, but only for a short time, and even then I get a headache that makes an AC round to the head look like a good option. You also don't want to be around me right after a jump, it's not pretty.
McEuen: So has the Schreck always been your vehicle?
Rundstedt laughs. No, I started out as a gunner in a Hunter. Planetary Protection duty, a lot of sitting around and waiting. A lot of drilling. Then one day we get attacked by Pirates, the common periphery tale. I don't remember much of my first combat, but we were hit, the tank was destroyed. Suddenly I was without a ride. Found myself in a Manticore after that, was a gunner for a couple of years.
McEuen: So, if I may ask, whats the biggest difference between being a Mechwarrior and a tanker.
Rundstedt: That's hard to explain really well without really pissing someone off. I think, from my experience, is that a Mechwarrior tends to be a bit more detached from it all. They are the tip of the spear, so to speak, and out there on their own, surrounded by 10 plus meters of walking mean. And in my experience, more often than not the mechwarrior is detached from it all. Someone else fixes the armor, someone else loads the ammo. A good mechwarrior will help out, learn the basic tech skills and the like, but my experience has been that most mechwarriors are detached from the people and things that let them do their job. Let me give you an example, my first Inner Sphere was with Inman's Irregular's. Combined arms Battalion of Mechs, Vehicles and Infantry. We get to the laager, the mechs go into the protected bunkers with the pilots. All the techs got put into trailers and prefabs next to the dropship zone. 3rd Amphigean raiding group hit us, and the first aerospace attack hit the techs, we lost 95% of our combat support in three minutes, and two weeks later we're retreating because there was no one to fix what was damaged. Unit disbanded after that.
McEuen: And with Armor?
Rundstedt: Armor, well...the tank is more than just me. There's six of us in a Shreck, in the field we live together, fight together, die together, and that I think tends to form a deeper bond between tankers. The attitudes between the two components, It can cause some friction in some units, but to be honest tankers tend to take things worse when they perceive the CO is treating them like second class citizens, even when he's treating them like first class citizens. It's a prejudicial thing that can be hard to overcome. I've been in four units since I left the Irregulars, two were ok, one was very good, one was the worst mistake I ever made.
McEuen: Why so many units?
Rundstedt: Well, truth be told I got tired sitting around waiting for something to happen, so I mustered out, made my way to Galatea. Hired on as a gunner in a Manticore with the Irregulars, ended up as a gunner in the heavy armor lance, which was the Schrek. Left the Irregulars, joined up with another unit, year later I'm the tank CO, six years and three units after that, I have a platoon on Galatea, looking for employ.
McEuen: What led to that?
Rundstedt: (pauses)...well, lets just say there was a disagreement between my former CO and myself. He thought he was competent, I thought otherwise. And frankly, I was getting tired of sitting around on garrison duty, was looking for something that maybe promised a bit more action.
McEuen: So how did you end up with the Furious Angels?
Rundstedt: To be honest, I am still trying to figure that out (laughs). At one point we had an offer from the 12th Star Guards, which looked very nice, but Louis Berthier gets a hold of me, says don't do anything until I talk to you. So I do my research, do some checking around, liked what I heard, figured, what the hell, I'll at least listen.
McEuen: You heard about their previous armor experience, right?
Rundstedt: I did, and in a perverse sort of manner that's what tipped the scale for me. I didn't know Jed Hampton, just his reputation, and the men and I liked that they were used as an integral part of the unit, they weren't just a reserve unit left behind to guard the dropships. I'd never met Davout, but after looking at his ops, the way he conducted them, integrated his assets together, you'd have a hard time convincing me he was former LCAF. Then I looked at his TO&E and said "Yeah, he's a Lyran alright." (Laughs). I did some more asking around, and at the end of the day, the guys took a vote.
McEuen: So you joined up right before the relocation to Arcadia?
Rundstedt: Yes.
McEuen: And your impressions so far?
Rundstedt: We're not lacking for action, that's for sure. And some of these Arcadian Armor guys, they know their stuff.
McEuen: And the 21st?
Rundstedt: Not to bad. At the moment though, we're better. Two weeks ago was rough, we were with Enbo and Apache Troop, moving through whats left of Agustian.
McEuen: That's the city that got hit in the 2nd Succession War, right?
Rundstedt: Right. Eerie place. Building remains and wind. Plus enough background radiation to really screw the sensors up. 21st tried a flanking movement through the city with it's heavy assets, Major Davout had the same idea. Nothing like assault mechs stumbling through the city running into each other. That was a rough day. I hate city fights,
McEuen: That's the day Jack Logan almost died.
Rundstedt: Yeah. Good Guy, hell of a Drax player. Victor jumped behind him, lit him up with the Pontiac. Took his rear Armor out, hit the SRM ammo. I don't think he knew what hit him to be honest. How he made it through that building without a scratch, I don't know. That was a tough fight, everyone got hit there. Speaking of which, I have to get back to the hanger, last of the engine shielding is being installed on the vehicle today, I need to go give them a hand.
McEuen: No problem, thanks for the time.
Rundstedt: Sure.
BREAKBREAKBREAK
Alois Gerard, Mechwarrior: Sir, Leutnant Massena.
Leutnant James Massena, Fox Troop CO: Yes Alois.
Gerard: Sir, there is an issue at the laager with the supply column
Massena: Did they short us again?
Gerard: Yessir.
Massena: Mother....get the Major on the horn Alois, and I mean now. Wheres the Captain.
Gerard: Out on Patrol sir, due back in 30. Your senior man on site.
Massena: Good. I am tired of getting jacked around.
Massena leaves the command trailer and makes his way to the temporary laager 2nd Sqaudron has been based out of the past few weeks, speaking into a small, short ranged handheld communicator. A Column of flatbed trucks with an escort of Arcadian Militia Hovertanks had pulled in less than twenty minutes ago to unload much needed supplies. A small crowd has gathered around one of the escorting hovertanks, with some yelling taking place.
Massena: AT EASE EVERYONE. Mr. Coehoorn, what seems to be the problem.
Cooehoern, Senior Tech: We've been shorted...again sir.
Massena: How much?
Cooehoern: Looking at the lading, about 20%. And they sent the wrong AC ammo. Again.
Massena: Which one of you is the Senior Militia Officer.
Hauptman Paul Jester: I am sir, Hauptmann Jester, Arcadia Militia.
Massena: Excellent. Hauptman, were you present when these vehicles were loaded?
Hauptman Jester: That's not the way you address a senior officer, Leutnant. (The emphasis on Massena's rank is heavy.)
Massena: Sir, I am not sure if your last name is an ill omen, but I am going to be honest with you here. I am tired, I am hungry, I am low on supplies, and at the moment, I out rank you-
Jester: I fail to see how that is even remotely true Leutnant, and if you do not temper your attitude-
While Jester is talking Massena turns around and makes a motion. At the far end of the field, an Awesome with the Furious Angel emblem on it takes a step forward, torso twists, and fires all three PPC's. The beams pass at least 10 meters above everyone head, hit a stand of trees a hundred meters past the laager and explode them in a cloud of splinters. The Awesome begins to plod forward. Several members in both parties had thrown themselves to the ground, and are now getting up. Massena and a few other members of The Angels have remained standing, Captain Jester stands back up in his cupola.
Jester: JUST WHAT IN THE BLAZES...
Massena signals again, and three more beams lance out and hit the burning remains of the trees. Jester is shocked into silence.
Massena: Hauptman, at the moment my three PPC's trump four militia triangles on your shoulderboards, so lets get one thing clear, I am asking the questions, you will answer them. Understood?
By this time the Awesome has made it's way less than 50 meters away from where everyone is gathered. The PPC barrels appear to be pointed directly at Jester's Pegasus. Jester can only nod.
Massena: Now, Three days ago 2nd Squadron sent out a supply request. I know this because I submitted it. Two days ago we got confirmation and receipt of that order, and last night it shipped, and here you are today. Yet looking at the bills of lading you have brought, this order in no way resembles what I ordered. I am short replacement Armor, and ammunition, and you have a truck full of AC/20 rounds on board, and I do not have a single AC/20 armed mech left here. Now, you were present at the loading of these trucks, correct?
Jester: If you think that-
Massena: Sir, I sincerely hope your last name is also not an affliction. This is not the first time this has happened, or the second time, or even third time. This is the fifth time I have submitted an order only to have it unfulfilled by you, our employer. Now, you want to keep up out of the information loop, that's fine. You want to keep us out of the conflict, well, you can't. The militia have less than two companies worth of mechs left, and they are all damaged to some degree. If it was not for the actions of my unit, there would be no militia mechs left and the Marik flag would be flying over Arcadia right now. So, I want an explanation from you right now as to why our order was not filled properly, or the name of the person who told you not to fill it properly.
Jester: I am not allowed-
Massena begins to make the gesture again to the Awesome, and Jester sputters and stammers to a stop.
Massena: Hauptmann?
Jester: I can't, I mean, I shouldn't...
Massena: Fine, you leave me no option then. Captain Wordsworth!
An infantryman steps forward out of the crowd, followed closely by three other infantry troopers, all fully armed and armored.
Massena: Captain Jester, I hereby place you under arrest for violating Lyran Military Judicial Code, Sections 109, 122, 124, and 135. Per our contract sanctioned by the Lyran Armed Forces and overseen by the Mercenary Bonding Commission I also charge the Arcadian Militia, specifically you, with violating the Services and Support Clause of our contract. You will exfil the vehicle and accompany Captain Wordsworth where counsel will meet you and take your statement, do you understand?
In a daze, Captain Jester splutters some more. Arcadian Militia in the other tanks stare, dumbfounded, at whats going on. Jester finally steps down from the cupola, and is escorted away by Wordsworth and a squad.
Massena: Who's the remaining Senior Officer?
Sargeant Jesse Roberts, Arcadian Militia: Uhm, that would be me Leutnant, Roberts, Sergeant, Arcadian Milita.
Massena: Excellent. Here's what we're going to do. We are going to unload from these vehicles what we need and can use, and the rest gets sent back. The faster they get unloaded will mean the sooner you get out of here, the sooner you get out of here means the further away you will be when the short company of 21st Lancer mechs snooping around finally twigs to our location and moves this way. It will also determine what, if any, escort that gets sent with you back to Central. Understood? Anyone with a problem with that plan may speak up now, there is plenty of room to be shared with Captain Jester. Understood?
Roberts, and others: Yessir!
Massena: Then lets get this blivet of an op moving. NOW PEOPLE!
BREAKBREAKBREAK
December 23rd
Arcadia
Sergeant Major Oudinot: They're here sir.
Major Davout: OK. Are you gentlemen comfortable?
McEuen - There are four other officers in Davout's appropriated office, a former conference room. For the first time I can remember Davout and Oudinot are both carrying sidearms. Davout is sitting behind a desk, Oudiont behind him. The other officers in the room are seated on the wall, and when Kommandant Graf von Jungers burst through the door, followed by Hauptmann Osgoode, neither notices them.
Von Jungers: You, you verdamnt fool.
Osgoode: You've stepped in it now Major.
Davout: I've been stepping in it since the night of the party gentleman. Whats the trouble now?
Von Jungers: Your under arrest Major.
Davout: For what? I've done nothing actionable.
Osgoode: Nothing Actionable? Disobeying orders of a superior officer, arresting Hauptman Jester, treating with the enemy, those are capital offenses Davout!
Davout: I disobeyed those orders because to follow them would have been folly, and led to the deaths of my men. I had Captain Jester arrested because of the supply problems my unit was suffering through, a supply problem instigated by you two I might add. And if you think my retrieving the bodies of my men from the Major Prescott and the 21st constitutes treating with the enemy you're clearly insane.
Osgoode: Then how is it after your "meeting" with the 21st they countered our every move?
Davout: I've told you Hauptman, your communications were compromised when you failed to reset your codes after Kommandant Cartier walked into that ambush. I told you at the beginning of this campaign the 21st was no slouch outfit. You didn't want to believe me. You've paid the price.
Von Jungers: No, Major, you've paid the price. Stand up.
Davout: You realize Jester has cracked. He's confessed to the entire scheme.
Von Jungers pauses. After a few seconds he reaches down to his holster.
Von Jungers: That doesn't matter...
Kommandant Karen DuPuy: I wouldn't do that if I were you Kommandant.
Osgoode and Von Jungers both turn around, Von Jungers hand is still on his holster. His rage is such that he only see's Kommandant Dupuy sitting there. Osgoode looks as if he's been punched by in the gut, he's obviously seen the other officers.
Von Jungers: And who are you?
Kommandant General Mitchell Henders: She is Kommandant Karen DuPuy, the new liason officer for the Furious Angels. I take it you know who I am, yes?
Osgoode looks as if he's about to faint. Von Jungers just stares, mouth moving with no words coming out. He soon finds his voice.
Von Jungers: Sir, I can explain..
KG Henders: You may try to do so at the position of attention Kommandant.
He stands, and Von Jungers does the sloppiest position of Attention I've ever seen.
KG Henders: May I present to you my aide, Colonel Russel Brandt. Colonel Malcolm Simpson is here representing the JAG Corps. Kommandant DuPuy is as you know now from the Liason Office. I have to say Kommandant Von Jungers, I've had seven days to review all the data Major Davout has forwarded to me, and I must say, I am very concerned.
Osgoode: Sir, those records, they've obviously been-
KG Henders: Tampered with? Perhaps. It's possible I suppose. But, I will admit, there are two trump cards the Major is holding. One is the confession of Hauptman Jester, which myself and Colonel Simpson have reviewed.
Von Jungers: Coerced Sir, surely...
KG Henders: And the communication intercepts between you, Hauptmann's Jester and Osgoode, and Kommandant Freely of your Support Command?
Von Jungers just stares.
KG Henders: I also have a statement, sworn and veriagraphed by Major Sam Prescott, of the 21st Centauri, stating to the veracity of the communications, and I found it interesting that when the two were compared, they were identical down to the last byte.
Von Jungers visibly deflates, something I've never seen before.
Colonel Simpson: Hauptmann Osgoode, Kommandant Graf von Jungers, you will accompany me please.
KG Henders: Just a second Colonel. Major Davout, was there something you wanted to say?
Davout: If the Kommandant General is willing?
KG Henders: I assure you Major, it will not leave this room.
Davout: Thank you sir.
Davout gets up, and stands in front of von Jungers. For a moment, he looks as if he's going to say something. The words form on his lips, but then he stops.
His left cross knocks von Jungers out cold.
KG Henders: Temper Temper Major (smiles). Kommandant DuPuy, you know what to do.
DuPuy: Yes Sir.
KG Henders: Excellent. Ah, there you are Staff Sergeant. Please remove the Kommandant and the Hauptmann to the Krogius, we depart as soon as possible.
A half sqaud of MP's comes into the room, and removes the two officers.
KG Henders: Kommandant, Major. Sargeant Major, good to see you again. I'll be off, we'll keep you in the loop as to what happens next.
All: Sir!
The officers, less Kommandant DuPuy, all turn to leave.
Davout: Sir?
KG Henders: Yes Major?
Davout: Merry Christmas sir (smiles)
KG Henders: For some of us, Major.
The Lyran Officers, less Kommandant DuPuy, leave, one shutting the door to the conference room behind them.
Oudinot: I would have shot him, maybe in the leg. Or an Arm.
Davout: To much verdamnt paperwork involved in that. Trust me.
Oudiont: As you say sir.
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Everything about the writing is excellent but I really like the interview portions the most. Thanks for sharing.
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Excellent. It's great to see how Von Jungers got taken down. [rockon]
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Excellent. It's great to see how Von Jungers got taken down. [rockon]
In the campaign rules I use there's monthly events, ranging from "no Event" to "Star League Cache"
My Contract on Arcadia started 3027.6.1 and ended 3028.2.1 (Year/Month/week, 5 weeks to a month for gameplay purposes)
and at least once a month, and sometimes twice, I rolled "Supply failure", which in games terms means a modifier adds to your repair rolls.
Being in the Lyran Commonwealth helped explain that pretty easily.
Davout73
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Those monthly rolls would make for some interesting times during your contract.
Now all you need is to roll the discovery of Star League cache. ::)
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Those monthly rolls would make for some interesting times during your contract.
Now all you need is to roll the discovery of Star League cache. ::)
There's a mechanism in the rules where you can find a star league mech. Leads to some interesting supply problems.
Davout73
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In the campaign rules I use there's monthly events, ranging from "no Event" to "Star League Cache"
My Contract on Arcadia started 3027.6.1 and ended 3028.2.1 (Year/Month/week, 5 weeks to a month for gameplay purposes)
and at least once a month, and sometimes twice, I rolled "Supply failure", which in games terms means a modifier adds to your repair rolls.
Being in the Lyran Commonwealth helped explain that pretty easily.
Davout73
would you care to post or link to these rules ? they sound very interesting for campaign use and flavour.
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would you care to post or link to these rules ? they sound very interesting for campaign use and flavour.
http://www.classicbattletech.com/forums/index.php?topic=1135 is the link. V2.0 is in the works, but the one posted my Makinus is very useable. I've customized mine off of his, they are very adaptable.
Davout73
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http://www.classicbattletech.com/forums/index.php?topic=1135 is the link. V2.0 is in the works, but the one posted my Makinus is very useable. I've customized mine off of his, they are very adaptable.
Davout73
thank you for the link..........reading now.
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April, 3028. For all his failures as a commander and leader, von Jungers was pretty popular with the local power structure, and the controversy around his subsequent court martial and imprisonment have not helped the Furious Angels with the local populace. Since March they have been restricted to Fiddlers Green and the immediate surrounding areas, and the local politicians have been making noises about "investigating" the unit to see how "culpable" they were in the recent conflict. The fact that most of the noise is being made by a groups of industrymen and politicians Von Jungers was associated with has not gone unnoticed by some, but few talk abotu such things openly. On the other hand, the current break represents the longest time out of combat the furious Angels have seen, and while the recent tensions have done much to strain things, the time off has done wonders for the units equipment and morale, if not to unkind to its pocketbook in the short term as well.
Kommandant Karen DuPuy, LCAF Mercenary Liason: I've got two types of news for you.
Andrew Davout, Major, Furious Angels: This does not sound good.
DuPuy: It's not. The locals have authorized an investigation into the unit. Its something I look forward to because it gives me a chance to dig into their own backstory. They want to prove you colluded with the 21st, they have to prove it, and in doing so they'll prove they new what von Jungers was doing where, when, and how. It's a step in the right direction.
Davout: That doesn't sound like good news.
DuPuy: For you? It's not. You have a new contract. I've been working my tail off to get it for you. It accomplishes what I need it to do.
Davout: Which is?
DuPuy: Get you off planet until this dies down. They can't investigate you too thoroughly while your not here your here, after all you can't willingly cooperate while being a few jumps away, but my investigation can continue. Anyways, I had to pull a few strings and a favor to get this contract. Your taking it. It's not negotiable.
Davout: What is it.
DuPuy: Training. Three to Five months. Planetary Militia requested you personally to come out and help them. You have previous experience there as well, so the job should be a bit easier in terms of working relationship.
Davout: With who.
DuPuy: The Dalcour Militia
Davout shoots to his feet
Davout: Impossible! There's no way we can take a mission with the FWL while still under contract with you!
DuPuy looks at her watch.
DuPuy: Good thing your not under contract with us then.
Davout: What!?
DuPuy: As of ten minutes ago, per Section 9, subsection 3 your contract with the Lyran Commonwealth Armed Forces was terminated without prejudice. In fact, it has been stipulated that the terms and conditions of the contract were fulfilled before the completion date and that the appropriate bonus's and an additional seven percent has been paid, and the Furious Angels get a nice big checkmark in the good guys column. I should also tell you that Colonel Kusaka sent a note to Comstar as well approving of your and Major Prescott's actions.
Davout: What if I don't sign this new contract?
DuPuy: Andrew, I say this as a friend, but don't go there. I like you, the LCAF likes you, hell, even most of the enemies you have fought like you to some degree. But your blunt, and you lack tact, and it's been a shortcoming off yours since your days at Coventry. Jed used to talk about it all the time. You're lucky in that you have people around you who care for you and like you enough that they overlook it sometimes, but I am flat out telling you this: You cannot be on planet for this investigation.
Davout: Sure I can...
DuPuy: Fine, lets play out a hypothetical. Lets say I am the investigating attorney on this.
Davout: Fine
DuPuy: Major, when were you first aware that the Arcadian Miltia Supply officers might be shorting you?
Davout: About a month after we landed, our first shipment was incomplete. We did some investigating.
DuPuy: Did you ask the local administrator for help.
Davout: No, we...
DuPuy: Once you found the fraud, did you report it immediately
Davout: Not right away, no.
DuPuy: Why?
Davout: Because I wasn't sure
DuPuy: How to hide your involvement in it?
Davout: We didn't hide anything.
DuPuy: So you're reasons for ignoring the proper legal channels to report such a theft are what exactly?
Davout: <pauses>...Okay, I see where your going with this...
DuPuy: No, you don't. Because once you answer that the way I know your going to answer it, I would call Louis Berthier next, and all the dirty laundry associated with him would come out. I don't have to prove your guilty, I just have to make it appear your guilty. And you know, more than most people, know what appearances can do, right?
Davout gets up and starts to pace. It's not often he loses arguments like this, and it shows.
Davout: So whats the contract?
DuPuy: You're contracted by the Dalcour Militia, independent of the FWL Armed Forces. You'll have a Planetary liason officer, a set of Engagement rules that took awhile to pound out, and you answer to the planetary militia first and only. There's a couple of unique escape clauses, but I don;t think you'll have to exercise those. Pays a bit lower than normal, but the salvage is higher to compensate.
Do this and your back on my good guy list
Davout: And if I don't?
DuPuy: There's plenty of backwaters that need garrisoning. Extended duty away from Fiddler's Green might give you some perspective on things. It's your call.
Captain Alan Bernadotte: What exactly did Jed see in her?
Sargeant Major Oudinot: She's a nice gal, really. But that's a new twist for her. Something tells me it's not her call.
Davout: It's her call. She could have half-assed the contract if she wanted to, but she didn't. And truth be told, she didn't even pull out the really big guns. And fact of the matter is, she's right on a lot of the points. When push comes to shove, I like a verbal spar as much as the next person, but at some point even I went to say "To Hell with It." and fire the PPC...
The room is silent for a few minutes, the assembled troopers sip their respective drinks and stare at the fire.
John Friant: I'll say it. Why Dalcour?
Davout: Luck of the draw perhaps. I know they've been hit a couple of times since we left, same continent, same area. A bunch of the Agro folks pooled their money to buy the equipment for the miltia, and they brought in some talent, but all of their stuff is conventional, well, most of it. They have 4 mechs that I think last saw service in the First Succession War.
Friant: You think she arranged it that way?
Davout: I wouldn't put it past her.
Jacob Lannes: Might be good for us.
Friant: How?
Lannes: You like being confined to the Green here? We stay and the lawyers come at us, and we all know what they could do. Why risk it?
Friant: But Dalcour?
Lannes: Look, what if it was Luthien she was asking us to hit? Or Dieron. Or the Feddies wanted us to go after Tikonov, or Sian. Or the League wants us to hit Hesperus?
Friant: But-
Lannes: But nothing. Fine, you don't like Dalcour. I don't like Dalcour. Nate doesn't, Andrew doesn't...those of us tha were there, we all hate it, we never talk about it, we've all done what we do when we need to compartmentalize something and deal with it in our own way. So lets go back there, get some closure, enjoy a few quiet months training some farmers, and we do such a good job at it that we never have to go back.
Davout: I don't hate it.
Oudinot: I don't hate it either.
Lannes: Right. You fiddle with that damned cross everytime you go into a deep funk, and you haven't touched the Aidhen since then, you switched to Laerdlochlan. I may be a jumped up sergeant who never got out of secondary school, but if I can tell when you aren't dealing with the problem. Jed dealt with it by talking to Karen, and she knows what buttons to push when it comes to that, and this is the first time she's ever used Dalcour against us. And she's never once done this to us before. And lord knows she's had plenty of opportunities to.
Dan Rundstedt, Armor Commander: I understand this was before my time, but let me ask an honest question: If we left it up to each member as to their choice whether they stay or go, who would stay?
There's a prolonged silence
Davout: We'd all go. We're strange that way
Oudinot: This unit needs a Pshrink.
Lannes: Or a Priest.
Rundstedt: Maybe dial the feedback back on the neurohelmets?
Someone chucks a drink at Rundstedt, who dodges it easily.
Davout: Hey, you want to throw beer, throw the bad stuff, not the Dark!
Rundstedt: So when do we leave?
Davout: Ten Days. He sighs deeply and starts fingering the cross, then catches himself, looks down and sees what hes doing and stops. Damn and-
Oudinot: Don't worry about it Major.
Tang Enbo, Lieutenant: My family is descended from the Chiang Tribe, who are originally from the western mountains of China on Earth. Mabichu, God, is the spirit of Tien, Heaven. Mabichu is all powerful, all seeing, all knowing, rewards the righteous, punishes the unjust. Those of you at Dalcour, at that fight, feel guilty. You could not stop what happened to that village in time. You also feel guilty because of what happened afterwards, no quarter given, none taken. That makes you human. As does your unwilligness to face it. It was easy to cross that line, it may be easier to cross it again.
Davout: All respect Tang, you weren't there.
Enbo: And none of the people in the Fed Suns were alive during the Kentares Massacre. Doesn't mean they don't feel guilty about it.
The Black Border on the Capellan Flag is for the civilians killed in the Capellan Prime Massacre.
Oudinot: And where was, sorry, Mabichu during all of that?
Enbo: Honestly? Who knows? What I know is this. I will go to Dalcour, I will help train the militia so that should the need arise, they can defend themselves. And the first opportunity I get, I will travel to this village, and offer atonement to Mabichu.
Lannes: Atonement? For what.
Enbo: I need a reason? I cannot be sorry they have gone, and that their passing has affected my unit so much? Fine. I offer atonement for my not being there, for my not stopping those pirates in time.
Friant: This is no time to mock us Tang.
Davout: He's not. He's right. Anyone who is a part of this unit is going to have Dalcour become a par of them, in one way or another. Giovanni is new to the unit, he's heard about it in hushed tones, I bet before the week out, during the boost, he'll go to his Lance Commander and ask him "So whats Dalcour all about?". It's going to become tradition, like the 19th Striker, or taking Waco's Oath if you join the Rangers. We've just been putting it off for awhile. I've been putting it off for awhile.
Oudinot: OK, so what do we do.
Davout pauses, hand on the cross.
Davout: We go to Dalcour. We're there three to six months, we train the hell out of those farmers and wannabe's, and one weekend we all go out to the village. We clean the gravestones, we tidy the place up, then we spend some time atoning and reflecting on the past. And we never regret why we did what we did, but we stop living there. Deal?
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I'd say... Sometimes it DOES take a fresh perspective on things to get through folks and have them figure out about closure.
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Back into the
frying pan Dalcour.
Now they can let the lawyers stab each other in the back in peace.
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any updates? i like a lot where this is going....
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Doing some editing on the next two updates...maybe this weekend if my kids cooperate.
Davout
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Misericordia intra alis=Mercy within our wings! In a odd way that would fit well the Angels!
I love your work I was reading it on a 15" Lappy! Small print took me 3 hours to finish!
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May 15th, 3028
The Furious Angels have been on planet for seven weeks. Several of the Dalcour Agrocombines have pooled their resources and bought equipment, expanding the local militia at a rapid pace. This has led to several headaches and complaints, mostly from farmers wanting to play soldier and not taking it seriously. There are several bright spots in the militia, but they are few and far between.
On the plains west of Tennerheim, one of the larger cities on planet, an experience is taking place. Several companies of Militia are maneuvering against a B Troop of the Angels. On a small hillock the Command group of the Furious Angels and a few of the senior militia officers are watching the progress. There are joined by several of the combine bosses and owners.
Gregor Roberts, CEO of Roberts Agro: "Well, what do you think?"
Andrew Davout, CO of the Furious Angels. "It's been about six weeks since we started drilling the militia, they are getting better."
Roberts: "Well, considering where we started, there wasn't anything we could do except improve."
As they talk a lance of Drillsons streak across the grass, trying to outflank the approaching mech troop
Aaron Huger, CEO of Huger Enterpise. "Given the money were spending, it had better be worth it."
Roberts: "It's worth it, it will be worth it."
Huger: "How can we be sure?"
Davout: "The only way to find out Mr. Huger, is to put them to the test. And lets be honest, the previous training cycles and militia officers left a lot to be desired."
There are several nods among the assembled men. Most of the militia senior officers were relieved of duty not to long ago. As long as Davout and the Furious Angles had the influence, they were going to use it as best as they could.
Davout, looking through binoculars. "Oh, that was nice. Whoever is in those Drillsons knows his stuff."
Oudinot: "That would be Lieutenant Roberts, Sir.
Davout: "Your son?"
Roberts: "Nephew, on my sisters side. Wants to be a soldier, but he's also one of the best managers I have as well. Serving in the militia lets him do both."
Davout: "Mr. Roberts, can you join me for dinner?"
Roberts: "Of course."
The group spends an hour on the hill, watching the militia slowly give ground. At the proscribed time, Oudinot gets on the radio, call the exercise to an end, and the militia and Angles begin the march back to the laager.
Davout: "What can you tell me about Taleisten."
Roberts: "Taleisten? It's a dead city. Why do you ask?"
Davout: "What's it history?"
Roberts: "Um, let me see if I can remember. It wasn't one of the first planetary settlements, it came later. But the SLDF had a post there, not to big, but when the Amaris Coup took place the base was abandoned. The City itself was wiped out what, hundred or so years ago?"
Davout: "Dirty bomb?"
Roberts: "Nobody is sure. Start of the Succession wars you were looking at 15,000 people living there. The SLDF left and everyone else picked the base clean. Population dwindled after that, till about 2915, there were about 5,000 people left. Then one day the city just...stopped."
Davout: "Dirty Bomb."
Roberts: "No idea. There was a raid going on at the time, but as far as we can tell there wasn't any, activity going on there. Anyways, Survey teams went inNo radiation, no biologicals found, but the land was poisoned for the better part of hundred years. You couldn't walk from one end of the city to the other and live more than a day. Rumor had it there was an SLDF research base that was developing some sort of biological weapon, but it was never found. Conventional Wisdom says someone found something and pushed a button they shouldn't have..."
Davout: "People went in and looked for it?"
Roberts: "bout 10 years later, the area cleaned up. Natural degradation probably. Most of the city was salvaged in one form or another, there's just not a lot left. Wouldn't trust anything grown there, and the local custom says theres something else going on as well....
Davout: "So we could use it for a militia exercise?"
Roberts: "Sure. Actually, that would probably be a good idea, most of the incursions have been happening in that area, and familiarity with it certainly wouldn't hurt."
May 25th
Outside of Taliesten
Oudinot: "OK, this is eerie."
Davout: "Ill portents..."
Taliesten is a dead city. Not a lot of it remains. Very few trees, very little green. On the flyover you could see the city blocks laid out, foundations and low walls the only remains of houses and businesses, the small spaceport of the former SLDF is distinguishable only from the air. In the center of the city a couple of steel skeletons rise into the sky, the remains of the few tall buildings in the city. Only a few buildings remain, but they have been found to be unstable at best. There is a westerly wind blowing through, and the sound it creates as it blows through and around the remains of the buildings is disconcerting.
Tang Enbo: "This is...disturbing."
Davout: "Yeah, this could be a mistake. But look at it this way, if we're spooked by it, imagine what the militia is thinking."
Paul Chasseur, CO of 2nd Squadron. "It's not going to be to useful for city fighting. At best we can do a walkthrough or two, get the basics down, but we'd have to go to someplace with more...
Oudinot: "Walls?"
Chasseur: "You were never one for tact SarMajor..."
Colonel Timothy Gaines, CO of the Dalcour Militia, joins the assembly. "Well, this is certainly..."
Davout: "Yes, we were just commenting on that."
Gaines: "It's odd, everyone on planet knows about this place, but this is the first time I've ever been here."
Davout: "What about the last incursions?"
Gaines: "Well, that's the new wrinkle. The Hand was the last Pirate Unit to come through that went after something more...substantial I guess. There's nothing here worth going after, unless you want to hunt for some copper wire or old steel, and frankly why would you want to travel across the universe for stuff like that. Foodstuffs and equipment, that's been their usual haul. Last few times though, the Pirates land around this area, spend six to eight weeks on planet, then leave. I suspect last time they would have stayed longer, but the militia came out in force, and they left before we could bring them to task."
Chasseur: "What are they doing?"
Gaines: "No idea. There's noone alive within 50 clicks of here. The Pirates land, set up a perimeter, and then mill around for a bit. Then they leave. We've never been able to positively ID them, but they've been here on and off for the better part of twenty years. This seems to be a popular place for some of them. But it's a catch 22 for them really. We don't defend it because there's nothing here left to defend, and they base here because they know its safe. Lately though..."
The wind picks up again, the sound as it makes it way through the city reaches the assembled troops
Chasseur: "What do you say we get this show on the road?"
A couple of hours later, the militia officers and officer of the Furious Angels are underneath one of the many tents that have been set up. Lieutenant Massena is beginning the briefing.
Massena: "For the rest of this OPEX there are two additional requirements. One, always check your water and food. I don;' care if it comes off of the trailer, or out of the bottle, box, bag or messcan,in this locale we can't be too careful. Use the strips, that's what they're for. DO YOU UNDERSATND ME? Good. Secondly, the past few exercises several folks on both sides have attempted to disable the smoke projectors that go off when they are hit and dead. Rest assured that myself and the other referee's are going to be keeping a close eye this cycle so that things like that do not happen. Any questions. Lieutenant Huger?"
Lieutenant Huger, Dalcour Militia: "Yes Sir. Do we have an approximate number on the OPFOR size and composistion?"
Davout: "Two Union class Dropships, contents unknown, one Seeker jumpship, contents unknown, one Invader Class Jumpship at a Pirate Point. Both dropships coming in at a 1.6g burn, DZ unknown at this time."
Massena: "Sir?"
Davout: "Sorry James. Boots and Saddles, Ladies and Gentlemen, this is no drill. We have about eighteen hours to get ready. That means swapping out the ammo for live rounds, powering up the lenses on the lasers, those are the priorities. As soon as we can get a handle on their LZ, we'll start getting down to brass tacks. I want all senior officers and lance commanders to stay here, the rest of you get to the equipment and get moving!"
Two Thirds of the tent leaves, including the Senior Sergeants of the Furious Angels; with the Officers hashing out the details its up to them to ride herd on everyone else, including the militia.
Captain Chasseur: "ny idea's on whose coming?"
Davout: "They aren't Lyran, or Marik, and they aren't friendly...."
Chasseur: "Good."
Five Days Later
"Grim Six, this is Sabre Six Actual, report." Captain Chasseur, CO of 2nd Squadron to Lieutenant Friant, Grim Troop CO.
"Sabre Six, we're on the left, three clicks Southwest from Point ROSE, no contacts...hold Sabre Six, have something on the scope...." Background noise and firing.
"Six actual, have encountered Jump Infantry and J Edgar Hoover Hovertanks three clicks from Point ROSE, requesting assistance to move and clear."
"Grim Six, copy. Demon Company is one the way."
"CONTACT! Heavy Contact! Sabre Six, this is Fox Six, two clicks West of Point ROSE, estimate two lances of Mechs with vehicle and Infantry in Support! Am holding position and engaging." Lieutenat James Massena, CO of Fox Troop to Captain Chasseur.
"Roger that Fox Six, Sabre Lance is on the way to your position, ETA one zero minutes!"
"Demon Six ETA to Point ROSE is 5 minutes."
"On your left Eugene, MAD-3R coming through the woodline with Infantry in support. Takeda, rake that woodline with LRMS's and support Eugene against that Marauder." Friant
"Grim Six, Fox Six, be advised you have 4 more mechs headed your way from my position, ETA 5 minutes. Looks like two wolverines and two Hermes."
"Grim Six copies. taking a looksee." Friant is piloting a TBT-J
"Coming through the woodline, ETA a minute, Infantry and tanks coming on the right-HOLY SH-" Cut transmission
"Where'd he go!?"
"Johnny!"
Confusion reigns for a moment.
"Sabre Six, Grim Two, Grim Six has disappeared!"
"What do you mean disappeared?"
"I mean when he landed he literally fell through the earth. This is no BS Paul, I'm two hundred meters away looking at a hole in the side of the hill he was going to land on!"
"Marauder is down! Engaging Enemy Wolverines on the Left."
"Sabre Six, Fox Six, enemy is attempting to break off towards Grim's location, am following at best speed."
"Roger that Fox Six. Demon Six, move to Grims location, best possible speed, string em out if you have to! Eagle Six, whats your location."
"Fifteen minutes from Point ROSE on one zero zero" Lieutenant Nicholai Orlov, CO of Eagle Troop
"Get there quicker, Nick"
"Copy that."
Minutes tick by slowly, it's the arrival of the militia that turns the tide at first, then several long range blasts from Desaix's Warhammer ignite the treeline, forcing the pirates to pull back. They are hit on the flank by Orlov's Eagle Troops, and retreat another twenty kilometers before Chassuer calls them back. They leave several hover tanks and two mechs on the filed of battle.
Chasseur: "So, anyone know what this is?"
Lieutenant Huger: "Storage Bunker of some sort. No SLDF markings, or other indicators."
The assembled troops are inside a bunker. When Friant's Trebuchet landed, it fell through a weak spot in the roof and a further 20 meters to the ferrocrete floor. The room his mech is in is empty.
"Found a map sir!" A militia member comes running up with a panel in hand. Chassuer looks over it with his flashlight. "Well, there's four identical bays, same as this one. Looking at the access doors, I'd say were in this one here. Lets split up, half go this way, half go that way. Be alert."
A few minutes later.
"Gerhardt Technologies...Sir, I have a manual here, says property of Gerhardt Technologies on it...for a generator..."
"Anyone?" asks Chasseur
"They were an industrial concern, primary employer in Taliesten. Electronics manufacturing, sensor arrays, when they city went dead their buildings were some of the first raided and razed." Lieutenant Huger responded. "They've been out of business for the better part of a century,"
"SIR, come to Bay Two!"
"On the Way."
Someone has found a power supply, and turned on the emergency lights. Bay Two is identical in size and shape to the place where Friant fell, but in this case it is occupied, vehicles in protective plastic wrap. Vehicles of War.
Chasseur: "Curiouser and Curiouser."
Oscar Grouchy, Sergeant, Sabre Squadron. "I don't recognize any of these vehicles."
Chasseur: "Sergeant Raus might know, he's the vehicle buff."
Lieutenant Huger: "I know these vehicles..." He walks towards one, a ground hovertank with a turrent full of weapons and a hull mounted gun. "This is a Bucephalus Hover Tank. Manufactured by Brooks Incorporated on Kendall...These things are over a hundred years old, they haven't built any of these for a long time...
Huger begins walking around the other shapes
" Pelham Self Propelled Artillery Unit, a Manstein Main Battle Tank...early Third Succession War..."
"Lieutenant Huger, enlighten us if you would?"
"t the start of the 3rd Succession War Brooks Incorporated tried expanding. They do the Galleon now, but the tried to add a few more vehicles to the mix, diversify if you will. I bet if we look in these things they have Gerhardt Technologies Sights and Sensors on them...this is one heck of a find...I don't think there are any of these active anymore....
Davout: "So, whats the breakdown?"
Chasseur: "Whoever stored them knew their stuff. Replace the fluids, prime the engines, they started right up. Some of the software is a little kludgy, but those will work out. Most of the the weapons systems are good to go as well."
Massena: " Any Lostech?"
Chasseur: "Doesn't look like it. The mainframes are wiped clean, nothing else to be found...The manufacturing dates are three months before the city was..."
Davout: "Right, so what are we looking at?"
Chasseur: "Eight Pelham SPA's, company each of the Buchephalus and Mansteins. Little bit of love and TLC they'll be in working condition within 10 days...
Davout: "Now, if we only had crews for them...
Chasseur smiles. "Lieutenant Huger has a proposition for you sir."
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Trust the Pirates to drop in at the start of an exercise.
Don't they know how much trouble it takes to organise one. ::)
It looks like they found what the pirates were looking for.
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Well, slap me with a wet trout and call me Friday! Good writing Dude!
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The Furious Angels Table of Organization and Equipment, August 1st, 3028
HQ Troop "Roughrider"
Col. Andrew Davout (Tactical Genius) 2/3 HGN-73 Highlander
SGM Nathan Oudinot 3/3 FLS-8K Flashman
MW Yvonne Marlborough 3/3 ARC-2R Archer
1st Squadron, "Tiger"
CPT Aaron St. Cyr 2/3 GLT-4L Guillotine
SGT Jacob Lannes 3/3 WHM-6FA Warhammer
MW Joseph Meade 3/4 WVR-6M Wolverine
MW Amy DuPuy 3/3 CN9-AL Centurion
Apache Troop
LT Tang Enbo 2/3 (Laser Specialist) RLD-1X Roland
SGT Jason Suvurov (Melee Specialist) 4/4 ZEU-6S Zeus
MW John Reynolds 3/3 AWS-8T Awesome
MW Alois Gerard 4/4 ON1-K Orion
Bandit Troop
LT Edward Ord 3/4 BUC-1X Buccaneer
SGT Erik Radetsky 4/4 GHR-5H Grasshopper
MW Orrin Beresford 5/4 GHR-5FA Grasshopper
MW Jason Sykes 4/5 CDR-3R Crusader
Crazy Horse Troop
LT Pierre Villenueve 3/3 (Dodge) FS9-M Firestarter
MW Max Blucher 4/4 (Laser Specialist) VL-5T
MW Ngyuen Huu An 4/4 (Missile Specialist) BRC-1X Bruce
MW Molly Crauford 4/5 (Single Weapon Lg Laser) FBX-1X
MW Francois LeClerc 3/4 WVR-6M Wolverine
2nd Squadron "Sabre"
CPT Paul Chasseur 3/3 (Laser Specialist) GLT-4L Guillotine
SGT Oscar Grouchy 3/3 VTR-9B Victor
MW Giovanni Messe 3/4 (Multitasker) CRD-3R Crusader
MW Jules Parker 4/4 SKX-1D Skhean Dhu
Eagle Troop
LT Nicholai Orlov 3/3 (Missle Specialist) SPT-1X Spatha
MW Roger Green 3/4 GLD-4R Gladiator
MW Laurence Saxe 4/4 MGL-1X Mangonel
MW Ian Martel 5/5 VND-1R Vindicator
Fox Troop
LT James Massena 2/3 (Ballistic Specialist) GRF-1S Griffin
MW Lars Steding 3/4 (Single Weapon AC/5) DRG-1N Dragon
MW Mikhail Tolbhukin 4/4 CLN-7V Chameleon
MW Henrique Castonos 3/4 JR7-F Jenner
Grim Troop
LT John Friant 3/3 TBT-5J Trebuchet
MW Liam Suchet 3/4 TDR-5SS Thunderbolt
MW Makoto Takeda 4/4 (Laser Specialist) HUN-1X Huntsmen
MW Eugene Desaix 4/4 WHM-6D Warhammer
Warhorse Squadron
CPT Dan Rundstedt, 3/4 Schrek PPC
SGT Eddie Raus 4/4 Schrek PPC
CPL Werber Bock 3/4 Schrek PPC
CPL Ulrich Mackenson 3/4 Schrek PPC
Nomad Troop
4 Pelham SPA's
Outlaw Troop
3 Buchephalus
Pegasus Troop
3 Buchephalus
Quicksilver Troop
3 Manstein MBT
Renegade Troop
3 Manstein MBT
Other Assets:
Mech Salvage Pool
MAD-3M
PXH-1
Infantry:
Two Scout Infantry Platoon
1 Motorised Laser Platoon
Transport Group
Verchiel's Ride, Union
Valhalla's Trumpet, Union
Festung Angelis, Fortress
Solvagnen, Invader
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You have the toys found, in your TOE already.
Looks good.
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This is about six weeks after the last post, the jumpship and Salvage are from the last battle.
Davout
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recruit locals for crew??
or rotate lances of locals into active service for experience and then rotate them back home :-)
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Please do not leave us hang on the edge! :'(
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5th Septermber, 3028
Ariel Spector is a short, bookish looking sort of fellow who seems out of place walking around Fiddler's Green, he looks and acts as if he would be more comfortable buried behind a stack of books in the corner of a research library, but the more you pay attention to him the more things you notice. He is always on the move, his head constantly twitches back and forth, his hands are always manipulating something, usually a kroner coin he flips between his fingers effortlessly. Spector is an aerospace pilot, and the newest officer to the Furious Angels, and when he's not flying his Stingray on orbital patrol he's putting one of the militia airplanes through it's paces. I recently had the opportunity to take a check flight with him, and I have to say it was the most thrilling, dangerous thing I have ever undertaken. And I say that as a person whose been under fire recently.
Brian McEuen: So, can you give me a little background about yourself?
Ariel Spector: I grew up in Novosibirsk, Russia, on Terra. My father was a pilot, he flew for the forestry department, sort of an eye in the sky to keep an eye out for forest fires. He flew everything, VTOL's to Transports, when he wasn't spotting he was flying tanker planes, and a few times he volunteered to fight on the ground as well.
Brian McEuen: Sounds...well, dangerous.
Spector: It takes a special type of person to jump out of an aircraft, but to jump out of an aircraft into a piece of terrain that's on fire? That takes a big pair...
McEuen: And your mother?
Spector: A biologist. She wasn't to fond of what dad did, but she loved him, and me. She was always afraid when dad went up, according to her he strapped my carrier into the seat when I was six months old, in a glider. Nothing to serious or taxing, just floating on the wind. Dad says it was the quietest I'd been since I was born. And when I used to get mad or upset he's pick me up and twirl me around, like we were flying...
McEuen: So it's been in your blood...
Spector <smiling>: Yes
McEuen: So how did you end up where you are today?
Spector: Poor choices and good fortune. <He laughs> Flying was the only think I liked, that I loved. I didn't care about school to much. I was a D Student in most things not related to flying, and the stuff that was necessary to flying just came so easily...I can do differential geometry in my head, but actually proving it on paper? No, I started the hard way, I joined the Forestry Service when I was 16, started flying that year. I was happy, and then a friend of mine at Federated Boeing took me on a check ride in an ASF trainer, and I was stumped. Here was something with wings I couldn't fly as easy as I breathed.
McEuen: Must have been difficult.
Spector: Hell no, it was a great challenge. In some ways what I had done the previous four years helped, your fighting a forest fire flying in a plane so heavy with water it's barely able to stay airborne, and your looking for hotspots, anticipating updrafts, figuring out what the plane is going to do when you dump all those tons of water...flying in space, it was sort of the same thing. In space, it's all relative, and no, that's not a joke.
McEuen: I'll be honest, I have very little experience in space, just interplanetary hops and thew few dropship rides I have.
Spector: That's understandable, and the bigger problem is that society as a whole has done nothing but glamorize what goes on in space. It's cold, its vacuum, it's instant death if you screw something up. You know what bugs me the most when I watch some of the crap they broadcast? Sound. There's no sound in space, you don't hear the explosions, you feel them, you don;t hear the roar of your engines, you feel it beneath your seat. You feel the thud of the autocannon mechanism as it loads, and you can tell whether or not its fired by the way it feels when you squeeze the trigger, the way the airframe shudders when it takes a hit or when the missile launcher freezes. It's all gut feeling and instinct...
McEuen: Sounds hair raising. No pun intended.
Spector: It's the scariest thing I know. We used to mock dogfight all the time, back in Russia, these internal combustion engine monoplanes that were just tough as all get out, pulling 10 and 11g maneuvers without G suits
McEuen: G Suit?
Spector: Its essentially a pair of leggings you wear, that inflate with air, they squeeze your lower extremities during High G maneuvers, force the blood to stay where it's needed, so you don't pass out?
McEuen: And your doing 10G maneuvers without them?
Spector: Well, it's not bragging, but yeah. You develop your core muscles and leg muscles, tense them during the high g maneuvers, and it keeps the blood flowing.
McEuen: Why not wear the G suit?
Spector: Well, two reasons really. Some aircraft the rapid inflation and deflation will screw the stick up, especially if its old school between the knees, as opposed to some of the HOTAS controls you see out there, The other is in soace, the leggings dull what I feel, like they act like a pair of earmuff's as it were. And I hate not knowing whats going on with the plane.
McEuen: That sounds dangerous.
Spector <snorts> Your in a 10 meter long craft armed to the teeth surrounded by armor on top of a nuclear reactor that could go make your life interesting and short in a battle if the magic BB finds you. Trust me, no G suit is somewhere near the bottom on my list of worries. We only pulled 5 or 6g's earlier today, I wanted to go easy on you.
I remember the three vomit bags I filled, and had a fleeting though that I would never like to see what Ariel thought was Hard.
McEuen: So whats on the top of the list?
Spector: The Person on the other stick. You have to assume, all things being equal until you know otherwise, they are at least as good a pilot as you are, that they know what they are doing, but that can be a trap. Combat is already a muddled mess, but when it's happening at 5g's in Near planet orbit in 3 dimensions, if your not ready for it your brain will say Thanks, but no thanks and check out on you...But thats not the hardest part to overcome.
McEuen: What is?
Spector: The hardest part in all of that is anticipating your opponent while not buying into your own skills to much. Whats he going to do, how am I going to counter it, what am I going to do that lets me get a shot...and in space, it's harder, because it can be so much faster. My biggest fear is a good stick who knows what he's doing in a plane that your normally wouldn't consider as big threat. But if your not careful, you can outthink yourself again, as in If he knows that I know that he knows I am going to do this because he;s going to that so He's going to do that instead so I will counter with this... It's like trying to play both sides of the chessboard. At some point you stop acting and start over-thinking, and eventually your brain says thanks, but no thanks, I have a pitcher of Margaritas calling me at Haifa...
McEuen: So, to drag this back on tangent...
Spector: Sorry, I get a little carried away talking about this sort of stuff. If I start doing maneuvers with my hands, stand back <laughs>. Anyways, I spent 18 months at Fed-Boeing, as a test pilot of sorts. Then my friend got an offer from the 12th Vegan, and I went with him.
McEuen: That was when?
Spector: 3020. And it was eye opening. I spent 9 months in flight school, I didn't have a formal military education of any kind, I sort of backdoored my way into a combat slot.
McEuen: Why?
Spector: You know, I've asked myself that a lot. Especially after my first combat...
McEuen: Any ideas?
Spector: Oh, its definitely Hubris of a sort. Pride, and a little bit of smug arrogance...well, maybe a lot of smug arrogance. It's your typical Alpha Male sort of thing, you think you're good, you know you're good, you want to go out and prove it. That's not the measure of what you are though.
McEuen: And what do you think is?
Spector: My first CAP patrol was uneventful, we dodged a couple of wayward satellites. We were on a raiding mission over Yangtze, the dropships were boosting off, and that's when the planetary ASF decides to join the fray. It was totally not what I was expecting. You think your ready for it and your not...
Spector goes silent for a moment. We have been walking through Fiddlers Green, near one of the parks on the fringe, and he stops to look at the pond in the center of the park. It is a quiet, the pond is still, and I notice that Ariel is still as well. I have to admit, it's unnerving.
Spector: When I was 19, it was the driest summer in 20 years, and the forests were tinderboxes, there was a ton of undergrowth as well, and the first summer storm that came through was literally striking a match on a keg of powder. Were talking trees 20 and 30 meters high on fire, flames reaching 30 meters beyond the top, the heat was intense. You know flame moves faster uphill than downhill, and that it will get so hot, so powerful, it will literally pull the air in from around it, create a vacuum so that other air rushes in, and creates a self perpetuating monster, a firestorm of epic proportions sometimes. Fire, it's a living, breathing thing, you watch it long enough, you see how it acts, how it moves, where it want to go. Anyways, I'm circling above it all, watching the guys make their runs, trying to slow this monster down, and Kiril, my dads best friend, I guy I've flown with many times, goes on his run, and he missed something. I saw it from 5 thousand feet, my dad saw it, heck, even Kiril saw it. A line that looked good was now no good, the wind shifted, the fire shifted, all of the sudden Kiril is flying through the flame and exploding trees, but there's a way out. I see it, and I radio to Kiril, but he doesn't answer, maybe the heat has done something to his radio, or to Kiril...anyways, I am circling and I just watch as Kiril's plane flies this slow and low lazy line, and the trees in front of him explode, the flames 40, 50 meters in the sky, and Kiril flies into it, and he doesn't come out. A man who had close to 30 seasons in the service, he just froze, and he didn't recover. We all talked about it afterwards, and we all agreed it was something we never wanted to happen to us. I promised myself it would never happen to me...and a few years later, there I am, in my Centurion, flying on Dmitry's wing, and I get hit. I mean, I not only get hit, this Autocannon round hits my cockpit on the side canopy, travels a foot in front of my nose, and out the other side of the canopy. If that doesn't make you re-prioritize your life, nothing will...but anyhow, I froze, throttle stuck on 80 percent, straight line flying, gaining speed...By the time David's yelling jolted me out of whatever funk I was in the plane was close to falling apart from the acceleration stress, it took quite a bit of nursing to get back to the dropship.
McEuen: Was that the closest you came to...
Spector: Packing it in? No. I actually had to eject at Galtor...that was an interesting time...
McEuen: How so?
Spector: End of September, the campaign was winding down. Everyone new it, the cease fire was coming. Bremond DMM had the snakes on the run, they were fighting a rearguard. We had high level CAP that day, and one minute the sky is clear, the next minute this Leopard shoots by, and were surrounded by Snakes fighters. The battle transitions to space, and it's the most intense 20 minutes I've ever been in. I'm trying to get on this Chippewa's six when all the sudden the Centurion just starts to fall apart around me, alarm lights going off, the frame is literally shaking itself to pieces, I can feel it in my bones, so I reach down and punch out.
McEuen: In the middle of a battle? That had to be interesting.
Spector: To be honest I was undergoing a variety of emotions. One was rage, at getting shot out of the plane. And I was scared, lets be honest in such an environment you didn't want to be in the way. But honestly, after a few minutes, it was just calming.
McEuen: Calming?
Spector: I know, right? Last thing you'd expect...but look, you ever go swimming when you were a kid?"
McEuen: Sure.
Spector: Remember sometimes you'd go to a quiet part of the pool, or wherever, and you would just kind of fall back, and relax, and let yourself float, and after a few, it's like it was just you, floating there, all alone in the world...
McEuen: Yeah, I remember that.
Spector: That's what microgravity is like. If you relax, your body automatically assumes the Dead Mans float posture, and your just there, the only thing you hear is the sound of your voice in the pressure suit and your own thoughts, especially if you don;t have a radio, like I didn't...it was...interesting to try and watch the battle, you couldn't move to much or you risk spinning out of control...I saw that Leopard go streaking by, about 10 clicks away...then maybe half hour after that the rescue shuttle picked me up. That was the best half hour of my life in some ways...
McEuen: So how did you end up here with the Angels?
Spector: There were a few of us, after Galtor, had the bug, was looking for something more, direct I suppose you could say. Garrison is hard for me, especially then, the 12th was rest and refit, and check flights and that was about it. Heard through the grapevine that the Hanseatic League was looking to hire Aerojocks, and there was a unit forming at Galatea that was going to take up a contract with them. Lot of time in space, protecting the convoys as they recharged. So I joined up, became part of Richards Flying Circus...that was interesting.
McEuen: A lot of action?
Spector: Enough, but to be honest, Dave Richards wasn't that great a stick, and whatever he lacked in piloting skills certainly didn't get passed on to his admin and contract skills. It seemed each contract we signed we made less money, paid more for parts, and fell deeper in the hole. We went from 18 pilots and 3 leopards to 12 pilots and 1 Leopard, and we had to "rent" the other ytransport during contract, and we were barely breaking even. I was essentially acting as the de facto CO of the unit, and I was doing OK, but the Flying Circus was becoming....dangerous. So, Etien and a couple of other guys, they come to me and say "We're leaving, come with us." And it wasn't a hard choice.
McEuen: That seems to be a common story these days.
Spector: Nature of the beast I suppose. So anyway, our employer gets mad that were leaving, declares us in breach, seizes our aircraft, and tells us to be on our merry way. Six Months later, we're on Galatea advertising, new unit, no dropship, no MRBC history because everything in Hansa was done through them...and this Louis Berthier guy corners me in a bar one night and talks my ear off about the unit he's part of, and the people he's with, sounded intriguing. Our only other real offer was from Waco, and I'll be damned if I have to swear an oath to hate someone before I sign on. Hell, I'm a Russian Jew, we takes our oaths seriously, that nekulturny fool Waco wouldn't know what hit him if I upheld that oath.....anyways, where was I...yeah, so Spector's Spectres took a vote, we joined the Angels...
McEuen: Wait, you said your craft were taken away while in the Hanseatic?"
Spector: Yes...
McEuen: So, where did you guys get the Stingrays your piloting now?
Spector laughs a little, then looks around a little nervously, the kroner coin flipping between his fingers in a practiced rythym.
Spector: I'll make you a deal, off the record here. You ask me again in 3033, and I'll tell you..."
McEuen: Why 3033?
Spector smiles: Statute of Limitations rules in the Hanseatic League.
Just then the sirens all over Fiddlers Green go off. It's not the General Alarm, or the Weather Alarm, but its going off is enough to send personnel scurrying to the closest buildings. Ariel and I are joined by some of the new vehicle recruits from Dalcour., one of whom mentions somethings going to be announced on the tri-vid. A pool quickly starts on weather or not Hanse Davion was caught partying the night before his wedding. Sergeant Grouchy, walk in just as the story starts
"This is Amanda Reiker with Commonwealth Press, Dateline Terra, August 20th, 3028. Hanse Davion, First Prince of the Federated Suns, married Melissa Steiner, heir the Lyran Commonwealth in a ceremony attended by virtually every major leader and politician in the Inner Sphere. While announcement of this...happy event was certainly shocking, the most shocking event of all came at the reception. Cut to a video of the newly married couple , a sword cutting the cake. Melissa Steiner-Davion holds it up, and speaks "Husband, I give you a regiment of Battlemechs and the means to support them in perpetuity."
She feeds the small piece to her new husband, and he eats it in a few quick bites. Smiling, the First Prince reached for his own piece of cake, but hesitated. In his right hand he held the piece of cake, in the other he had lifted up the plate it was one.
Grouchy, Spector, and Leiutenant Enbo, who apparently had arrived a few moments ago, all said within a second of each other: “I have a bad feeling about this...”
"I thank you for the gift beloved. Wife, in honor of our marriage, in addition to this morsel, I give you a vast prize." With a flick of his wrist the doily on the plate fell off, and he held it up for all present to see. "Here my love, I give you the Draconis Combine!"
Noone can cuss like a soldier whose been surprised, and this was no exception. Only Lieutenant Enbo was silent, the rest of the assembly began chattering all at once. The trid cut back to the news announcer.
Grouchy: PIPE DOWN!
The room falls quiet.
"We can confirm at this time that the Federated Suns and Lyran Commonwealth have each launched what can only be a massive Invasion of a long time enemy. We can confirm that the Federated Suns have landed troops on Alderbaran, Liao, Algol, New Hessen, Pleione, Poznan, St. Andre, Shensi, and Styk. Lyran forces have landed on at least 23 planets, including Buckminster, Hyperion, Marfik, New Caledonia, Orestes, Vega, and Wheel. It would appear that the 4th Succession War has begun."
The sirens went off again, this time it was the Alert Siren. Swearing and cussing, every member of the Furious Angels present hustled out to go to their rally point. I didn't have anything better to do, so I grabbed a drink, sat down, and watched the universe fall apart for a couple of hours. - McEuen
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Nicely Written the end part! Loved it
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Lovely, especially liked the way Spector talks about flying. And I sure can understand why they'd be swearing like that...
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October 5th, 3028
The past few weeks have been tense ones. Ever since the start of the 4th Succession War the men and women of the Furious Angels have been on edge. There have been daily briefs, weekly alerts, and hourly false alarms. The militia has been called out, not in full strength but enough to make some of the local politicians angry. Davout and the other officers have tried to keep the Angels busy with a series of drills, but the Colonel (a promotion he tried to avoid) knows he walks a fine line, to much drilling and the troops become inured to it, and simply start going through the motions.
Andrew Davout, CO: Morning folks, how are we doing today?
Alan Bernadotte, Captain: An informal poll of Tiger Squadron tells us that 45% of the Unit thinks the current situation Sucks, 45% thinks the current situation Blows, and the remaining 10% think the situation both Sucks and Blows.
Paul Chasseur, Captain: Sabre Squadron numbers are remarkably similar.
There are a few chuckles around the table.
Davout: I hate waiting.
Karen DuPuy: I know you hate waiting. Unfortunately, its the way things have to be. Someone has to mind the back door while the rest of the gang is out looting.
Davout: Any news on that?
DePuy: Nothing concrete. Next infodump should be here in five days, give or take. Our orders remain the same, unless other wise directed or special circumstances require, we are to maintain the garrison of Arcadia in the name of the Archon etcetera etcetera etcetera...
Davout: You know, the only thing that makes this worse than 3019 is that back then we knew someone was coming. We knew when, we knew where, we knew who, and I was still scared.
Sergeant Major Oudinot: You hid it well, sir.
Davout: <snorts> Please.
There are some chuckles around the table.
Davout: OK, in the meantime, hows everyone getting settled in? Dan?
Dan Rundstedt: A little rough around the edges, but to be honest, that's to be expected. Most of the Armor recruits haven't done anything like this full time. The time on Dalcour helped, but the lack of sim's is really starting to show. We can't keep using the vehicles in the field, or the wear and tear will really take a toll. Louis and Menno are trying a a work around, where we patch the vehicles into a local net, and keep them in the bay, but the software on the Dalcour equipment is...well, it's got Louis stumped a little bit.
Davout whistles. Well, let's keep at it. Those vehicles are a nice little force multiplier, and I want to get the most out of them.
The assembled officers chat for a few more minutes, then break up. Kommandant DuPuy starts walking towards the laager.
Sergeant Major Oudinot: Spare a moment Kommandant?
There are times when a question is not a question, especially when phrased in such a way by the senior enlisted officer of a unit.
DuPuy: Of course.
Oudinot: His acting's improved.
DuPuy: True. At least he's not chomping at the bit anymore.
Oudinot: It's an act. If he could, he'd get the whole unit loaded and jump.
DuPuy: To where?
Oudinot: Sound of the guns? Marik space is closest.
DuPuy: So why doesn't he?
Oudinot: He likes getting paid. He likes the reputation the unit has. Doesn't want to sully it, become the next Wilson's Hussars.
DuPuy: That's good. I'd hate to be the one to blacklist him.
Oudinot: Oh, don't get me wrong, he can be an underhanded bastard when he wants to be, but he's smart enough to see the right side of things. As long as he doesn't make the wrong choice, the Angels will be fine.
DuPuy: And if he makes the wrong choice?
Oudinot: I'll make sure he doesn't. If I don't or can't, Alan will, or Paul will, or Friant will. Those are times when I miss Jed, he'd look at the Colonel and say You realize how full of crap you are here? and that's all it took.
The two walk in silence for a moment.
Oudinot: I miss him too. He was a good troop.
DuPuy: Thanks, he was a good man too. I have to say, LIC is starting to nose around some of the communications.
Oudinot: About his friend in the 2nd?
DuPuy: Probably. What can you tell me about that?
Oudinot: Not much. While he was part of the 15th he was detached for duty, 9 months. Went away, came back with three mech silhouettes on his cockpit, a scar down his back and more silence. He mentioned once it was part of a raid mission, but truth be told he was drunker than anything, even after Dalcour, the first time...and even then he didn't say much, but every once and awhile he'd get a message originating from Drac space...
DuPuy: Interesting...
Ouidinot: You might be able to find out more, but I doubt it. I tried finding out through the sergeants circle and had the door slammed on me. But, I am here, in an unofficial capacity, to ask you if you know anything.
DuPuy: Davion is kicking Liao in the teeth, and we're doing the same to the Snakes. Marik will attack because the majority of the LCAF is on the Snakes border. They'd be fools not to try.
Oudinot: You think they can pull their act together and do something?
A jeep pulls along side of them, one of the local MP's in it. Kommandant, Sar Major, the Colonel requests your presence in the Op Center.
DuPuy: Maybe SarMajor...just Maybe.
Davout: We've got something. Jumpship at the Nadir station jumped in two days ago, released three mules as part of a cargo run from Gienah. Ariel and Etien decided to make a pass and were fired upon. We're waiting for Ariel's followup transmission.
Cpt. Ariel Spector: Halo Six, Spectre Six Actual. Conducted three high speed passes, took fire each time. Spectre Two is damaged, am breaking off and RTB. Definitely not friendlies. Have some imagery, will send when within range, estimate one zero minutes.
The Command Room is tense. A few minutes pass by, then the imager starts printing. The prints aren't the best, but they are more than adequate. Quite a few of them are very detailed, on e of the Angles ASF's obviously flew within several hundred meters of the dropships.
Davout: What's that? He point's to an insignia painted on the side of the dropship.
Technician 1st Saunders: Got it sir. With a few keystrokes he brings the image up and manipulated it. It shows a Atlas Battlemech, adorned in tartan and tam 'o shanter, playing the bagpipes.
Davout: Oh my. <chuckles> SarMajor, we need to find Leutnant Enbo and tell him that there is a God, and he is most generous and kind.
He leaves the command post with a smile and a step that could only be described as....
DuPuy: Well, that was quite jaunty.
Oudinot: I suspect he'll skip when he's sure noones watching, Ma'am.
Technician Saunders: SarMajor, can you tell me whats going on.
Oudinot points at the image on the screen: That Technician. Is the unit Insignia of Fitzhume's Highlanders. Major Russ McNabb commands their Alpha Company, and RUMINT says Brian Morand joined the unit after leaving the Angels. To say that they have an axe to grind is an understatement.
Saunders: Ah. I think I understand SarMajor.
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Oooo, not just a fight, but a grudge fight. This will be good.
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my only worry is that 3 mules can carry a buttload of mechs
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my only worry is that 3 mules can carry a buttload of mechs
So that just means there's a buttload of salvage coming their way! [drool]
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On the other hand, this is 3028, the start of Big 4th, there weren't, really, the uttloads of Mechs, unless you buy into the retconned cookiecutter factory mentality...
Not that it makes things any better. Mules can carry even more vees than mechs, I think...
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Whatever the Mule's are carrying should make for good
salvage.fight.
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But remember, Mule´s do not have hangar bays for hot drops, so if they manage to get them while unloading it could be a easy way to decimate the oppositon....
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Unless the Mules have been modified with the proper gear to drop units. It wouldn't be the first time that's happened.
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nah
rule #1 there aint no stinkin rules
one mule flies by target area, I assume a factory of some sort,
slows and hovers at about 5 miles up, opens
all the cargo doors and rolls out containers of bombs
standrd shipping containers, so about 25 tons per container, a simple altimeter release pops a large chute and explosive bolts blow the door on the other end off, (the chute orients the direction of the opening, it wont slow the fall) and then you carpet bomb the target, heck you could simply drop 4 per cargo door, 3 with HE 1 with inferno and the target is toasty
it aint accurate, and its like going after a mosquito with a shotgun, and because of the scatter you may not get enough hits to totally get thru the armor of the building (CF) but it will be weakened and the fences and vehicles and small pillboxes will be trashed
DT
from the lemay school of bombardment
or the Pournelle school, drop an asteroid on them
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Okay, is the armor found canon? Trying to find the designs because I am wondering just how nice the haul was for you.
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No, they are not Canon. I will post them here tomorrow when I am off the phone and near laptop.
Davout
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More?
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From the unpublished journal of Brian McEuen.
November 6th, 3028
The month between the arrival of Fitzhume's Highlanders and current operations has not been kind to the Furious Angels. Their only good break came during the Highlanders descent towards the planet. The Highlanders main LZ's were on Tripolis. The smallest and least populated of Arcadia's three continents, it also has the highest concentration of mines and other industrial concerns on planet, but it's tactical and strategic value are apparent to anyone. As the Three Mules burned in, Spector's Spectres managed to strafe and disable one while it was about 20000 meters above it's landing zone. Other than the crater, there was not a lot left. The remaining two Mules grounded and immediately began disgorging their cargo, two Battalions of Battlemechs, and a combined arms regiment. To face them, The Furious Angels have two reinforced companies of Battlemechs, a reinforced company of vehicles that haven't seen combat in over a hundred years (if at all), and a planetary militia that at best is uncooperative.
The Angels have resorted to Hit and Run Tactics. The Highlanders appear to be moving towards several of the larger mining concerns, and Takahito Fitzhume is a competent if unimaginative commander, relying on his numbers to hold the Angels back. Thus far Davout and his officers have played things close to the vest, taking great pains not to reveal to much. With some effort, two lances have shadowed a company of Highlander Mechs and accompanying conventional forces as they move towards a Kristonos mining complex. It has taken a few days to get everything as coordinated as possible. The Kristonos Mines are an excellent spot, with several entrances that lead to a main road, which is surrounded by slag piles that are sometimes decades old. It is an excellent piece of terrain to fight a defensive battle on.
"Roughrider, Roughrider, this is Red Cloud 6 Actual. Have eyes on the prize, repeat, have eyes on the prize." Red Cloud is one of the two infantry scout platoons the Furious Angels have. Despite my best efforts and intentions, their CO, Michael Kearney, has refused any sort of interview with me. Beyond the occasional hello I've never had a conversation with him that lasted more than six words. The one time I thought I had him cornered he literally disappeared from the room I was in. The members of his platoon are cut from the same cloth, quiet, aloof, and professional.
"Copy Red Cloud."
"Roughrider, I have 16 mechs, thats one-six mechs, 12 tanks with outriding Infantry on them. Estimate current arrival at Point HAMMER in two minutes at present speed."
"Apache Troop at the ready."
"Crazy Horse Troop at the ready."
Both mech lances are hidden. The heavy metal deposits and residual background radiation will shield them from the Highlander sensors until they fire. Further back in the tunnels is a battalion of Arcadian Militia, a company of tanks and two of Infantry.
"Nomad Troop, locked and loaded." The Artillery troop, carefully hidden away the past month. Davout has been waiting for a situation such as this to use them.
"Nomad, this is Red Cloud, change of target, target has moved. Drop 250 and left 150 from Point HAMMER, do you copy?"
"Nomad copies, drop 250, left 150."
"Nomad, Target, commence Firing!"
Five Kilometers away the crews of the Pelham's began their dance. A few seconds later the results were visible on a monitor, a feed that had been activated by the observing scouts when the command to fire went out. Of the 4 Pelhams in the Artillery troop, 2 fired HE rounds, the other 2 Cluster ammunition. The target was not the Battlemechs, but the tanks and accompanying Infantry. The first 3 rounds of firing, 4 rounds 12 seconds apart, were devastating. More than half the Highlander armor was knocked out, and few, if any, Infantry remained alive. The mechs reacted appropriately, spreading out to lessen any impact between them. It was what the Angel Mechs are waiting for.
Crazy Horse Troops was one of the heaviest lances in the Angels TO&E, comprising Leutnant Enbo's heavily modified Zeus, called the Roland by those in the unit, Sergeant Suvarov's Zeus 6S, John Reynolds Awesome 8T, and Alois Gerard's ON1-K Orion. The amount of firepower they put out in the first few seconds of combat is devastating to the lighter mechs of the Highlanders, one Commando and a Stinger are prone wrecks, another Commando is exploding as it's ammo cooks off.
Watching this in the confines of the TOC is very disconcerting to me. I've seen combat vids before, but this, knowing it's live, is a new experience. Maybe it's the lack of over the top style Solaris commentary, the lack of epic music in the background, but there is a finality to what I am seeing. The remaining Highlander mechs recover, a ragged line shakes out, men and machine find what cover they can and begin to return fire. A lance of Lighter mechs begins to move forward, bounding and covering behind slag piles and other equipment, hoping to flank the Assault Lance in front of them.
"Nomad, Check Fire, Left 100, Down 200, HE-Cluster Mix."
"Copy that." A few seconds pause. "Shot."
More artillery lands in the scattered mess that is the Armor and Infantry. The few remaining running vehicles begin to retreat. The Highlander Light Lance has gotten close enough now to start taking some long range shots at Apache Troop.
"Crazy Horse Troop," Leutnant Enbo's voice was calm as he twisted the Roland around and snapped a large laser shot at a Hermes that left itself too exposed. "Now!"
Several piles of slag exploded outward, the combat engineers earning their money as the light mechs of Crazy Horse Troop enter the fray, hitting the Highlanders on their exposed flank. Within seconds, a Highlander Clint and Hermes are down, and a Trebuchet is missing an arm. There is no one signal, but singly, and then in pairs, the Highlander mechs start withdrawing, following the retreating armor units. One Heavy Lance of Highlander's maintains good order, utilizing the piles and equipment. The Archer, Orion, Ostol and Thunderbolt have obviously been working together a long time, they move and cover and fire very well.
Molly Crauford, in her modified Commando, attempts to dash between two slag piles when the Orion turns on her and fires, the autocannon shells savaging her leg, which snaps off at the knee. Forward momentum carries her mech face first into a slag pile, and the TOC goes silent as they see the face plate cave in.
"Red Cloud 6, this is Roughrider 6 actual, detach a team to move in and get the status of Crazy Horse Four." Davout's voice is quiet, as is everyone else in the tent. Everyone is ignorantly aware that Crauford and Davout have been spending time together off duty, which lately has meant they have rarely spent anytime together at all.
"Copy Six." Whoever is handling the data uplink in Red Cloud Troop knows his stuff, zooming in and out, panning back and forth. The Highlanders have withdrawn back up the single entry road, the missiles of their covering lance keeping the Angels honest. Once they break past the entrance to the mine, the heavy mechs turn tail and run as fast as they can. Crazy Horse Troop, less Crauford, streaks after them, harrying them from distance, just to keep them running. Red Cloud Troop climbs into it's ORV's and follows after them at a respectable distance and angle. Meanwhithe retreating Heavy lance. Meanwhile, Apache troop plods along, not at full speed, but not taking its time either. The plan is to chase the Highlanders for a few kilometers, then break off back into the mining area. Ten minutes pass by, the mechs of Crazy Horse Troops harassing
"Something's not right," one of the new officers, Leutnant Huger. His flat Dalcour accent is even more pronounced. He's one of the new Armor recruits, a natural born soldier and leader to hear Davout talk about him. His Manstein crew is the best in the company. His leg in a cast, the result of a particular nasty fight with the climbing wall, is studying the screens. "Apaches gaining, but they haven't sped up..."
Davout looks at the screen Huger is staring at, then glances at the terrain display as well.
"Rough Rider 6 to War Party, break off, I repeat, break off and return to RALLY POINT COCHISE-"
"Contact Left!"
Whoever was leading the Highlander Company knew his stuff, the retreating Highlander fast movers had split off left and right, utilizing the ground cover to hide, while the retreating heavy lance had slowed their pace down long enough for Crazy Horse Lance to get pulled into a moving ambush.
The radios exploded with chatter.
"Crazy Horse One is down, repeat, Horse One is down!" Pierre Villenueve, one of the Angels plankowners. Red Cloud screeches to a halt, creeps to the crest of a small ridge, and gets eyeson the battle again.
Crazy Horse Troop is retreating as best it can, Villeneuves Firestarter in a crumpled heap behind the line of advancing Highlander mechs. A barrage of LRM's envelops John Reynolds Awesome, and a few seconds later he ejects, the 80 ton machine falling backwards.
"Get the Militia moving, have the fast movers come out and harass the Highlander mechs, provide covering fire so they can retreat back through the mining complex. Plan GOTH is in effect here people." Davout's voice is flat, with a tinge of disgust. Gone to Hell, indeed.
"Roughrider 6, this is Apache 6, Militia is not responding..."
"What!" Davout nearly jumps out of his chair. He moves over to a commo tech.
"Sir, Major Faulkner says he's under orders not to abandon the mining complex, and is refusing to leave."
"Those aren't his orders!"
The TOC is now a bustle of activity.
"Whose closest?"
"Bandit Troop is an hour away."
"Air cover."
"Spector has one ASF he can put in the air, the rest are down for maintenance." The situation, which was at best tenuous for the two troops of mechs, has taken a dangerous turn towards disaster.
Meanwhile, Davout is on a hardline with the Commander of the Militia.
"Look, I don't care Colonel. He has his orders, you issued them, and he's ignoring them. Now, you either get his ass moving or I will."
He hangs up the phone and sits back down on his chair, watching events unfold. He's stuck in the one place he's most uncomfortable, watching events unfold and having no way to influence them. He knows his presence on the net would only undermine Enbo and Sergeant Blucher's authority, they have eyes on the scene, while Davout is limited to what Red Cloud can show him.
It's not quite a disaster, for one thing the Angels appear to have better fire discipline and better shooters in their ranks, as they fall back towards to mining complex, more of their shots hit. However, the remaining Highlander mechs have a heavier throw weight, and its begins to show as more and more Angel mechs break off. The slag piles and terrain of the mining complex will slow any pursuit down, and to their credit, the Angels retreat towards their safety is orderly.
Enbo and Suvarov are the last two Angels mechs to the main gate. Enbo's armor is pitted and scarred, half of his weapons are damaged or inoperative, and he's the better off of the pair. Suvorov's Zeus looks almost skeletal, there is little to no armor left on the machines torsos and legs, one of which has a fused knee. The remaining 9 mechs of the Highlanders are all damaged to various degrees, their advance has been steady.
"Angels Mechs, this is Captain Angus McRory, Fitzhume Highlanders." A radio message, broadcast in the open.
"Put Enbo on a second speaker," orders Davout. His sitting in his chair, arms crossed.
"I call upon you to surrender," continues McRory.
"A reasonable request Captain. I ask your indulgence for a moment." replies Enbo.
"Sir? Andrew?" asks Enbo. "Your call sir."
"No, it's not." replies Jason Suvarov. He's a younger Mechwarrior, from the Free Worlds league. A recent friend of Spector's, I've often found them chattering away in Russian.
"My Reactors shielding is gone. I'm a dead man." The TOC is quiet. A quick glance at Enbo's reading shows this to be true, the chest of the Zeus is glowing red hot in the heat display.
"Tang, when I start, you go. Red Cloud, call a strike in on this position, lets wreak some havoc." Theres a pause. "Sir, when you see Ariel next, tell him Standing Orders."
Davout is silent for a minute, then keys his headset.
"Copy that Jason..Red Cloud, make it happen." He takes his headset off, and walks out of the TOC. Meanwhile coordinates are being called out.
"Shot."
"Apache, shot lands in ten seconds."
"Captain, while your offer is generous, I am afraid I have to decline." The ground erupts as the artillery shells land. One hits the Thunderbolt in the torso next to its boxy head, and it collapses like a puppet with cut strings. The confusion is brief, and enough. Enbo fire as he retreats down the main entrance, focusing on McRory's Archer. Suvarov bellows a Russian warcry, then moves as best as he can into the fray. It is over quickly, Suvarov's mech explodes, taking with it the damaged Highlander Crusader. The delay is enough though, Enbo is able to retreat through the main entrance and into the slag piles. McRory doesn't follow though, he knows its a losing proposition for him, what initiative he has will be lost. He retreats.
The TOC is silent, there will be more battles to come. I leave the tent, noone notices.
The field laager is a quick setup, rudimentary gantry's, a few supply vehicles, the command tents themselves are quick setup affairs. Davout is marching off in his Warhammer as I leave, the rest of the Command Lance trailing him. News of whats happened at the mining complex has spread, the grapevine is well grown and tended here.
Most of B Squadron is present, I find Tolbhukin laying in the shade beneath his Chameleon.
"Mister McEuen. A hard day today." I thought he was asleep.
"Indeed. I was wondering if I could ask you a question."
"Of course."
"Jason mentioned something about Standing Orders?"
Mikhail lifts one eye, staring at me for a moment. The he sits up.
"It's a Russian thing. You go back through time, people will tell you they've been through it all, seen it all, had it rough. A Russian, a true Russian, will laugh at you. They know war, they know poverty, they know loss, they know suffering, and through it all they endure. Because that's what they do. And through the centuries, its been ingrained into us. No matter what the circumstances, we will endure. Kerensky was Russian, a true Russian, as was Jason, as is Ariel, as am I.
"There used to be a romantic movement about us. Look how tough they are, look how they endure. The soldiers especially. From facing Jhengiz Khan on the steppes, to Hitler in the Great Patriotic War, to Amaris during the occupation. We endure, we don't know any better. Anyways, Standing Orders. Its a cinematic tradition, but like all things its based in truth. In the context of what Jason was saying, Its a saying, probably changed over time from the original, but it goes like this: If you cannot move, become a pillbox. If you cannot shoot, become a bunker. If you are out of time, become a hero."
He stands up, stretches, towering over me. How he fits into the cockpit of his mech I am not sure.
A small bottle appears in his hand, a home brewed vodka he's been working on. Rumor has it the techs use it to strip paint from the units. But its only a rumor.
"Suvarov died a hero today. I can only hope when my time is come I can do the same." He takes a swig of the bottle, and passes it to me, and expectant look in his eyes.
I take a swig.
The techs weren't to far from wrong. But Tolbhukin was right. By the end of the campaign, he too, would be a hero.
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That is a very heavy load even for Mules.
Oh well, at least one Mule down.
The casualties from that battle not good for the Furious Angels.
By the way has the firing squad been prepared for the militia officer.
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Methinks that militia officer will be on one of those two mules when they leave. The new craters should be named after him.
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Hmmm I believe that Officer will be posted to a post and I would use a needler on light shreading on him. so he can think about the lost lives he has add to his name!
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excellent man. Really enjoying reading it
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For those interested, I've started a thread with the specs of the refits/custom designs I've been using in my campaign.
Thread can be found here:
http://www.classicbattletech.com/forums/index.php/topic,8189.0.html
Thanks for reading,
Davout
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Dec 29th, 3028
Brian McEuen: Hi, this is Brian McEuen, recording December 29th, 3028. You understand this is just an interview, right?
Angus McRory: Sure. Just be aware that I'm not going to answer all your questions though.
BM: Not a problem. Hows the Arm?
AMcR: Healing, thank you very much.
BM: So, Can you give me a little bit of background on yourself?
AMcR: I suspect you know most of it already. I was born and raised on Summer, then my family moved to Rahne. My family has had a history of serving in the Commonwealth going back almost 600 years. I'm the youngest of four sons, raised by an absentee father and then a grieving mother. My father was a Infantryman in the Skye Rangers, invalided out. I went to Sanglamore. I left my sophomore year, joined Barrett’s Fusiliers. That was 3015.
BM: Can you tell me why you left Sanglamore?
AMcR: <Pauses>. It just wasn't for me. You can say I was having a crisis at the time.
BM: What sort of crisis?
AMcR: Faith. Conscience. Belief. My father was involved in quite a few things, things I found myself disagreeing with over time, much to his regret. Growing up certain things were expected, certain things were to be taken as gospel, certain things were fact. The problem was he was hardly ever around to reinforce those statements. I finally went to Sanglamore, and I just found myself...not in step with what was going on. And after the first year I couldn't pretend I enjoyed it either. I was encouraged to leave after that.
BM: Encouraged how?
AMcR: Fists mostly. A Couple of feet.
BM: What did your family have to say about that?
AMcR: I wouldn't know, he was killed when I was 14, hence the grieving mother.
McEuen Coughs.
BM: So how did you end up with the Highlanders?
AMcR: I ended up in the Fusiliers as a tech, it was the only slot they had open, and after about 18 months moved up to an Enforcer that was captured from Kurita on a raid. I spent 5 years in that, then moved to the Archer.
BM: How did that happen?
AMcR: It belonged to a friend of mine in the Fusiliers. He was killed in action, left the mech to me. Not sure why. We worked on it together, we were friends, but he had family it could have gone to as well. That was in '23. By then I had topped out. Was a Lance commander, and a good one. I wanted more, there just wasn't anywhere for me to go in the Fusilier's. I cashed out, took a ride to Galatea, hung out my shingle so to speak. Colonel Fitzhume apparently knew some of my extended family, asked me to join up. He had money, he had infrastructure, he had a company command for me. I jumped at the chance.
BM: Hows your experience with the Highlanders been?
AMcR: It's had its moments, which is normal. For most units, life is ninety to ninety five percent sitting around, and the rest is filled with the sheer terror of combat. Our first contract was with Steiner, garrisoning some periphery world for a year. Uneventful, boring, a lot of training. It was what it was.
After that ended we went to Marik, a little more action. Pirate Hunting mostly, tangled with some Canopians on accident once, chasing after Pirates, that was interesting. A Raid against Liao, a raid against the LC.
BM: Any issues with that?
AMcR: Fighting Lyrans? Not at all. After what happened with my father and at Sanglamore, I can honestly say I've never cared one way or the other.
BM: Seems a bit odd.
AMcR: Why?
BM: <pauses> Well, it just does.
AMcR: The whole brother against brother thing? Forget it. Once your allegiance is to the paycheck, that goes out the window. Well, that's not a hundred percent true. You don't do what we do solely for the money, if you do you aren't long for the business as it were.
BM: So why then? Camaraderie, Band of Brotherhood?
AMcR: That's what I believe. I care about my men, I care about my command. When your the guy in charge you have to be a decision maker, and sometimes that means you have to be willing to do things maybe you weren't prepared to do.
BM: Like ordering a lance to stay behind to cover the retreat of the rest of the company?
AMcR: Well, seeing as how I have a philosophy of never ordering my men to do what I wouldn't do myself...<He smiles grimly and tries to raise his arm, but the cast and straps prevent him from doing so.>
BM: So what can you tell me about Colonel Fitzhume?
AMcR : Other than he's dead? <a grim laugh> Ach, that hurts. Broken arm, cracked ribs...word of advice, always make sure the hatch it fully open before you eject.
BM: Well, what was your measure of the man?
AMcR : Measure of the man? Interesting choice of cliches there. <Pauses> He was a solid commander. Look, the guy came from money and privilege, and got tossed out of the LCAF for doing what other officers have been doing since time immemorial, because he got caught. He owned up to it, and moved on. A year later he's got two plus battalions of mechs and he's sitting on Jerangle, training and garrisoning, and he gave me a company command. Did he inspire me to be better than myself, to do great things? No. But did he stay out of the way, and by that did he give me an order and allow me to execute it to the best of my ability? Yes. He was a decent guy and a decent CO. Now, would I charge the gates of hell for the man? No. But I'd fight as far as the entrance.
BM: What do you know of the history between the Highlanders and the Angels?
McRory snorts, then grimaces in pain again.
AMcR : Dammit. Sorry. I know that starts, stops and will end with Russ McNab and Andrew Davout. How much of their history do you know?
BM: A lot, but it's all one sided.
AMcR : Yeah, so's McNab's version. Put the two together and you'll get the truth, or at least most of it.
BM: So whats McNab's truth?
There is a definite lull in the conversation here.
AMcR : That Davout isn't the fair haired guy he projects himself to be. He set McNab up on Cavanaugh, well, he and Louis Berthier did. McNab says Davout wanted a bigger cut, but I don't believe that, otherwise Berthier would have worked it out so that most of what McNab and the rest of the guys were doing ended up in his account. Instead, he took just his share and disbursed the rest to the other three guys, then somehow leveraged McNab's Zeus into it as well. Did McNab bet on the fights? Sure. Did he bet everything that he ended up betting? No. That was Davout and Berthier.
BM: Why?
AMcR : Best guess? Davout realized what he was getting into, and couldn't get out of it cleanly. So he and Berthier rigged it so they could get away as clean as possible. Which, I have to admit, takes a big pair of brass ones and some serious chutzpah. There's sneaky, there's sneaky and devious, and then there's I'm stabbing you in the chest sneaky. This was definitely the latter. Then there was that incident on Galatea, at the bar. I wasn't there, but one of my lance mates at the time, MacCrory, he was there. And McNab was two sheets to the wind...talking crap....and then Davout and the others walked in....
Pauses.
I used to be reasonably sure that if McNab knew Jed Gudin had died and they had just come from his funeral he would have left well enough alone. Hell, I would have. But apparently McNab sees Davout walk in, builds up the liquid courage, and goes over and starts mouthing off...and then he decides to pick a fight with a former House Fujita soldier.
BM: Enbo is a former Warrior House member?
AMcR : That's the RUMINT. Supposedly there's a few people in Rubinsky's who know more, but he apparently was cashiered out and forced to the Confed Cav as a punishment of some sort...I heard that from a fellow in Rubinsky's, and I trust him...
BM: So whats going on now is some sort of, well, would vendetta be the right word?
AMcR : To be honest, I am not sure. McNab came in and Fitzhume gave him a BC slot, passed over a good officer and friend to do it. Personally, he used to be an OK sort of guy, but then Morand joined the unit, and it pushed him over the edge. I think he saw the Highlanders as his way to exact some revenge on Davout, but Fitzhume held that in check. Then this damned War started.
McRory stops talking for a minute and stares out the window.
We call it Target Fixation. Or Tunnel Vision. You get so focused on one thing, you forget whats going around you. McNab has this idea of what Davout is as a person and a commander, and it fits his worldview, but I'll be honest with you, as sneaky and as underhanded as Davout can be, you don't build a unit this fast, this well, with this reputation without having some very good redeeming qualities. And you don't go out and beat the type of units he's beaten without being very, very good at your profession. McNab always insisted it was luck...
BM: Not a believer in luck?
AMcR : I've had enough close calls in my time to say that its a factor and it exists, but if you notice, throughout history, luck seems to favor the prepared more.
BM: True.
AMcR : So, Johnson leaves, and Fitzhume makes McNab XO. McNab starts agitating to go after the Angels. And why not? We're bigger, had better support, better people, or so we thought. But the Colonel holds off, has a garrison contract, doesn't want to breach it. But Hanse decides one planet isn't a good enough wedding gift, he has to take out a whole house, and Marik decides to strike while Steiner is busy throttling the Snakes. Rumor says McNab had to bribe someone in Marik command to get us here. And that was one thing that bothered me. I'm not to into blood oaths or someone elses revenge. Davout and the Angels had never done anything to me.
BM: What else bothered you?
AMcR : There was that whole business with Morand. McNab brings him in as a Lance commander, a few months later he's senior company commander. That was supposed to be my slot, and yes, that's me whinging, but I worked long and hard for that. So I took some leave, told Fitzhume I was going to Solaris to watch the matches, went to Galatea instead, see what else was out there, and ran into a couple of guys from the 21st. We had an interesting conversation. They were quite complimentary. I was looking at joining them, was on my way back to the Highlanders when the Fourth broke out.
BM: So what happened then?
AMcR : McNab wanted to load up and jump here faster than he could think, which now that I think about it was pretty damned fast. But Fitzhume did the right thing, waited until he had the authority to do it, then came here. And promptly stuck it into the Meatgrinder. McNab as XO was the chief filter for the Intel we had. He discounted the new units, he discounted the aerospace fighters, and then the SOB decided to fire on those ASF's that took a peek at us. Threw away any chance of surprise we had, and then the Jelsie's Revenge was shot out of the sky, there went a lot of our consumables. McNab didn't care, he thought it was going to be a walkover.
BM: And Fitzhume?
Pause.
AMcR : I'm not sure. If I had to guess I suspect he wanted to keep the lid on McNab as long as he could. And for the most part it worked. Then came the Kristonos battle.
BM: I watched that in real time.
AmcR: Not quite the same as living it...That was supposed to be a walkover. And I got suckered good.
BM: You did a good job recovering.
McRory smiles, albeit a bit sadly.
AMcR : True enough. A mobile ambush is a tough thing to pull off, but if you have good troops you can do it. And I have good troops.
Pause
Had good troops.
Another lengthy pause.
The problem is though, I can count on one hand the number of guys in the Highlanders I would give myself for. And two of them died at Kristonos. And for damned sure neither McNab or Morand is among the remaining three. And Morand swore he could have done better, so he took his company out and went chasing after A Squadron for three weeks, got ambushed four times, lost six mechs and two pilots, and then most of his conventional when the Arcadia Militia hit him. He came back to base with his tail between his legs, I have to admit, I was pretty happy to see that. And what were his claims? Says he destroyed a lance plus of Angels Mechs, and a bunch of the militia units. And at best he took out one mech for sure, and maybe half of what he claims from the militia. Bastard.
BM: So, what happened after that?
AMcR : Stalemate. Then we got suckered, but good. Davout and A Squadron show up at the base of the Peninsula, broadcast who they are and why they're there. McNab, Morand and their battalion go haring off after them, meanwhile Fitzy, that's Major Fitzgerald, is hours away on a raid of his own. Nothing left at base but the dropships, technical support crews, what was left of my unit and the command company, and the rest of the groundpounders.
Pause. We didn't look at the meteorological, didn't know it was going to be calm on the Ionic Sea. 2AM in the morning, I hear incoming Arty. Next thing I know half the damned depot is exploding sky high, there's hovertanks I've never seen before coming in off the waves firing on anything and everything, and some damned ship is beaching itself and mechs are crawling out of the damned thing then jumping up the cliff face and landing in our LZ I'm trying to make my way to the laager, when BOOM!, next thing I know I'm flying through the air. I wake up just as Tolbhukin, it was Tolbhukin, right?
BM: Pauses. Yeah.
AMcR : Right. He marches his way onto the Bonnie Prince Fitz and then BOOM! What sort of madmen walks an mech with a failing reactor onto a dropship?
BM: Well, if it helps, he was a Tikonov Russian.
AMcR : Ah, well, that's explains some of it...Pauses. And it turned the battle. Killed Fitzhume, killed what cohesion we had left. We lost what, a Battalions worth of Armor, the rest of my company, a dropship, and most of the Infantry that night? And then I find out Davout got away from McNab and Morand.
BM: Lucky you think?
There is a very pregnant pause here.
AMcR : We lost our CO, our numerical edge, and the guy in charge now can't see straight because he is so consumed with hatred he doesn't know up from down. That's not luck. Putting most of your jump capable mechs in an ore carrier and timing it's arrival to within a few minutes of your hovertanks arriving after a 200 kilometer journey across open calm in the middle of storm season isn't luck. That's being damned well prepared. That's planning and preparation. And maybe a little lucky with Fitzhume being killed, but still...
McCrory pauses, looking out the window again.
Tolbhukin marching into the Bonnie Prince was luck, but we'd have lost anyways. Takahito wasn't a fool, he probably saw which was they battle was going and would have surrendered. But him dying means he didn't get the chance. Mallory surrendered what was left, I can't blame him for that, and the Scabbard got away, so if he wants to, McNab could meet up with it and get away.
BM: You think he will?
AMcR : No. Davout taunted him, drew him away, then managed to kill the one guy who might have kept him in check. Bastard stabbed him in the chest just so he could see the look in his eyes, so he could draw him out into a battle of his own time and choosing. McNab's outnumbered, running out of supplies, and his only hope of this damned planet is to clear the cobwebs and hatred out of his head and realize he's been beaten. Pause That won't happen though.
* * * * * *
Andrew Davout walks in, still dressed in his mechwarrior garb. He's dirty, there's dried blood on his forehead, and there's a distinct limp. But he's also smiling.
Angus McRory sits up in his hospital bed, not looking nearly as happy as Davout, who sits down on the chair.
“Good evening Captain. Hows the Arm?†Davout's voice is concerned.
'“Hurts. Which doesn't help when your allergic to morpha products.â€
Davout slouches down in the chair a little. It's obvious to McCrory that he's tired.
“Can you tell me whats going on Colonel?†McRory's voice is soft.
“Can't hurt. McNab's Battalion is marching its way back to where your third dropship landed. I've got his unit shadowed, if he chooses to march straight there it will take him five days, then he can boost. But he won't do that, will he Captain?â€
McRory is silent, but his frown tells Davout enough.
“Look let me ask you something Captain. How well do you like McNab. Or Morand? Are they officers you would choose to serve with?â€
“You haven't listened to my interview with Mr. McEuen, have you.â€
Davout stands up and goes over to a small sink, where he washes his hands, then wets a towel. He sits down, rubbing his face with it.
“No, I've been busy. Besides, best information comes from the source, right?â€
McRory looks at Davout for a minute, then looks away.
“McNab's Command Lance and Morands company are the hardcore ones. They'll follow him, and I'm not sure why. Colonel Fitzhume was worried that McNab might leave with them and go after you on his own, split the unit. I didn't know about that until recently though. I was looking for my own way out before we even came here.â€
Davout nods, then slouches down again.
“And the rest of the companies.â€
“As trite as it sounds, they're following orders. McNab is Senior officer left. Major Fitzgerald can't stand him, which is why they were so far apart.â€
“Right, makes sense. I think you should know, Fitzgerald surrendered to the Militia today. Once this is over we're going to ship his men back to the jumpship.â€
McRory closed his eyes and laid back. It was a good thing his arm was killing him, because the pounding in his head had increased by a magnitude of at least five. With Fitzgerald surrendering, McNab was the only sizeable Highander force with any sense of cohesion left.
“What about Fitzgeralds mechs?â€
Davout paused. No mechwarrior wanted to be dispossessed. To some it was worth than death.
“I won't lie to you captain. Mallory had four mechs destroyed, and three severely damaged. The Militia claimed the severely damaged and destroyed mechs for their own, parts most likely, although there may be a couple of Wolverines that can be salvaged. I've put no claim on any mechs, and those pilots with mechs will be allowed off planet with them. Fitzgeralds Orion lost a Leg and an Arm, and he's keeping it. There was a Quickdraw that lost its head to an AC10 round and has superficial damage everywhere else, but he's leaving with that as well. The militia wanted it, but I told them no.â€
McRory was silent. The terms Mallory had gotten were pretty good. No, they were very good.
Davout sighed, then sat up.
“Look, I don't want to kill anyone I don't have to. I know McNab and Morand will never give up, but what about the others with them? If given the opportunity would they surrender?â€
McRory didn't answer right away, obviously playing out a conversation out in his head.
Davout stood up. “Look, I'll make the same deal with anyone who surrenders as I gave to Fitzgerald. They get to keep their mechs, and they get a ride of this planet uncontested and back to the Jumpship.â€
McRory couldn't help it, his jaw dropped and he stared. Davout laughed.
“Doesn't fit your worldview of me, Captain? That's OK, I get that, I really do. But I'll be honest, my beef is with McNab and Morand. If I can keep others out of that, it's better in the long run. If I get you in contact with the other company commanders, you think you can convince them to take the offer?â€
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an den?
;D
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I have to say, I really enjoyed reading through all of this. Keep up the good work.
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From the unpublished journal of Brian McEuen.
November 6th, 3028
The month between the arrival of Fitzhume's Highlanders and current operations has not been kind to the Furious Angels. Their only good break came during the Highlanders descent towards the planet. The Highlanders main LZ's were on Tripolis. The smallest and least populated of Arcadia's three continents, it also has the highest concentration of mines and other industrial concerns on planet, but it's tactical and strategic value are apparent to anyone. As the Three Mules burned in, Spector's Spectres managed to strafe and disable one while it was about 20000 meters above it's landing zone. Other than the crater, there was not a lot left. The remaining two Mules grounded and immediately began disgorging their cargo, two Battalions of Battlemechs, and a combined arms regiment. To face them, The Furious Angels have two reinforced companies of Battlemechs, a reinforced company of vehicles that haven't seen combat in over a hundred years (if at all), and a planetary militia that at best is uncooperative.
The Angels have resorted to Hit and Run Tactics. The Highlanders appear to be moving towards several of the larger mining concerns, and Takahito Fitzhume is a competent if unimaginative commander, relying on his numbers to hold the Angels back. Thus far Davout and his officers have played things close to the vest, taking great pains not to reveal to much. With some effort, two lances have shadowed a company of Highlander Mechs and accompanying conventional forces as they move towards a Kristonos mining complex. It has taken a few days to get everything as coordinated as possible. The Kristonos Mines are an excellent spot, with several entrances that lead to a main road, which is surrounded by slag piles that are sometimes decades old. It is an excellent piece of terrain to fight a defensive battle on.
"Roughrider, Roughrider, this is Red Cloud 6 Actual. Have eyes on the prize, repeat, have eyes on the prize." Red Cloud is one of the two infantry scout platoons the Furious Angels have. Despite my best efforts and intentions, their CO, Michael Kearney, has refused any sort of interview with me. Beyond the occasional hello I've never had a conversation with him that lasted more than six words. The one time I thought I had him cornered he literally disappeared from the room I was in. The members of his platoon are cut from the same cloth, quiet, aloof, and professional.
"Copy Red Cloud."
"Roughrider, I have 16 mechs, thats one-six mechs, 12 tanks with outriding Infantry on them. Estimate current arrival at Point HAMMER in two minutes at present speed."
"Apache Troop at the ready."
"Crazy Horse Troop at the ready."
Both mech lances are hidden. The heavy metal deposits and residual background radiation will shield them from the Highlander sensors until they fire. Further back in the tunnels is a battalion of Arcadian Militia, a company of tanks and two of Infantry.
"Nomad Troop, locked and loaded." The Artillery troop, carefully hidden away the past month. Davout has been waiting for a situation such as this to use them.
"Nomad, this is Red Cloud, change of target, target has moved. Drop 250 and left 150 from Point HAMMER, do you copy?"
"Nomad copies, drop 250, left 150."
"Nomad, Target, commence Firing!"
Five Kilometers away the crews of the Pelham's began their dance. A few seconds later the results were visible on a monitor, a feed that had been activated by the observing scouts when the command to fire went out. Of the 4 Pelhams in the Artillery troop, 2 fired HE rounds, the other 2 Cluster ammunition. The target was not the Battlemechs, but the tanks and accompanying Infantry. The first 3 rounds of firing, 4 rounds 12 seconds apart, were devastating. More than half the Highlander armor was knocked out, and few, if any, Infantry remained alive. The mechs reacted appropriately, spreading out to lessen any impact between them. It was what the Angel Mechs are waiting for.
Crazy Horse Troops was one of the heaviest lances in the Angels TO&E, comprising Leutnant Enbo's heavily modified Zeus, called the Roland by those in the unit, Sergeant Suvarov's Zeus 6S, John Reynolds Awesome 8T, and Alois Gerard's ON1-K Orion. The amount of firepower they put out in the first few seconds of combat is devastating to the lighter mechs of the Highlanders, one Commando and a Stinger are prone wrecks, another Commando is exploding as it's ammo cooks off.
Watching this in the confines of the TOC is very disconcerting to me. I've seen combat vids before, but this, knowing it's live, is a new experience. Maybe it's the lack of over the top style Solaris commentary, the lack of epic music in the background, but there is a finality to what I am seeing. The remaining Highlander mechs recover, a ragged line shakes out, men and machine find what cover they can and begin to return fire. A lance of Lighter mechs begins to move forward, bounding and covering behind slag piles and other equipment, hoping to flank the Assault Lance in front of them.
"Nomad, Check Fire, Left 100, Down 200, HE-Cluster Mix."
"Copy that." A few seconds pause. "Shot."
More artillery lands in the scattered mess that is the Armor and Infantry. The few remaining running vehicles begin to retreat. The Highlander Light Lance has gotten close enough now to start taking some long range shots at Apache Troop.
"Crazy Horse Troop," Leutnant Enbo's voice was calm as he twisted the Roland around and snapped a large laser shot at a Hermes that left itself too exposed. "Now!"
Several piles of slag exploded outward, the combat engineers earning their money as the light mechs of Crazy Horse Troop enter the fray, hitting the Highlanders on their exposed flank. Within seconds, a Highlander Clint and Hermes are down, and a Trebuchet is missing an arm. There is no one signal, but singly, and then in pairs, the Highlander mechs start withdrawing, following the retreating armor units. One Heavy Lance of Highlander's maintains good order, utilizing the piles and equipment. The Archer, Orion, Ostol and Thunderbolt have obviously been working together a long time, they move and cover and fire very well.
Molly Crauford, in her modified Commando, attempts to dash between two slag piles when the Orion turns on her and fires, the autocannon shells savaging her leg, which snaps off at the knee. Forward momentum carries her mech face first into a slag pile, and the TOC goes silent as they see the face plate cave in.
"Red Cloud 6, this is Roughrider 6 actual, detach a team to move in and get the status of Crazy Horse Four." Davout's voice is quiet, as is everyone else in the tent. Everyone is ignorantly aware that Crauford and Davout have been spending time together off duty, which lately has meant they have rarely spent anytime together at all.
"Copy Six." Whoever is handling the data uplink in Red Cloud Troop knows his stuff, zooming in and out, panning back and forth. The Highlanders have withdrawn back up the single entry road, the missiles of their covering lance keeping the Angels honest. Once they break past the entrance to the mine, the heavy mechs turn tail and run as fast as they can. Crazy Horse Troop, less Crauford, streaks after them, harrying them from distance, just to keep them running. Red Cloud Troop climbs into it's ORV's and follows after them at a respectable distance and angle. Meanwhithe retreating Heavy lance. Meanwhile, Apache troop plods along, not at full speed, but not taking its time either. The plan is to chase the Highlanders for a few kilometers, then break off back into the mining area. Ten minutes pass by, the mechs of Crazy Horse Troops harassing
"Something's not right," one of the new officers, Leutnant Huger. His flat Dalcour accent is even more pronounced. He's one of the new Armor recruits, a natural born soldier and leader to hear Davout talk about him. His Manstein crew is the best in the company. His leg in a cast, the result of a particular nasty fight with the climbing wall, is studying the screens. "Apaches gaining, but they haven't sped up..."
Davout looks at the screen Huger is staring at, then glances at the terrain display as well.
"Rough Rider 6 to War Party, break off, I repeat, break off and return to RALLY POINT COCHISE-"
"Contact Left!"
Whoever was leading the Highlander Company knew his stuff, the retreating Highlander fast movers had split off left and right, utilizing the ground cover to hide, while the retreating heavy lance had slowed their pace down long enough for Crazy Horse Lance to get pulled into a moving ambush.
The radios exploded with chatter.
"Crazy Horse One is down, repeat, Horse One is down!" Pierre Villenueve, one of the Angels plankowners. Red Cloud screeches to a halt, creeps to the crest of a small ridge, and gets eyeson the battle again.
Crazy Horse Troop is retreating as best it can, Villeneuves Firestarter in a crumpled heap behind the line of advancing Highlander mechs. A barrage of LRM's envelops John Reynolds Awesome, and a few seconds later he ejects, the 80 ton machine falling backwards.
"Get the Militia moving, have the fast movers come out and harass the Highlander mechs, provide covering fire so they can retreat back through the mining complex. Plan GOTH is in effect here people." Davout's voice is flat, with a tinge of disgust. Gone to Hell, indeed.
"Roughrider 6, this is Apache 6, Militia is not responding..."
"What!" Davout nearly jumps out of his chair. He moves over to a commo tech.
"Sir, Major Faulkner says he's under orders not to abandon the mining complex, and is refusing to leave."
"Those aren't his orders!"
The TOC is now a bustle of activity.
"Whose closest?"
"Bandit Troop is an hour away."
"Air cover."
"Spector has one ASF he can put in the air, the rest are down for maintenance." The situation, which was at best tenuous for the two troops of mechs, has taken a dangerous turn towards disaster.
Meanwhile, Davout is on a hardline with the Commander of the Militia.
"Look, I don't care Colonel. He has his orders, you issued them, and he's ignoring them. Now, you either get his ass moving or I will."
He hangs up the phone and sits back down on his chair, watching events unfold. He's stuck in the one place he's most uncomfortable, watching events unfold and having no way to influence them. He knows his presence on the net would only undermine Enbo and Sergeant Blucher's authority, they have eyes on the scene, while Davout is limited to what Red Cloud can show him.
It's not quite a disaster, for one thing the Angels appear to have better fire discipline and better shooters in their ranks, as they fall back towards to mining complex, more of their shots hit. However, the remaining Highlander mechs have a heavier throw weight, and its begins to show as more and more Angel mechs break off. The slag piles and terrain of the mining complex will slow any pursuit down, and to their credit, the Angels retreat towards their safety is orderly.
Enbo and Suvarov are the last two Angels mechs to the main gate. Enbo's armor is pitted and scarred, half of his weapons are damaged or inoperative, and he's the better off of the pair. Suvorov's Zeus looks almost skeletal, there is little to no armor left on the machines torsos and legs, one of which has a fused knee. The remaining 9 mechs of the Highlanders are all damaged to various degrees, their advance has been steady.
"Angels Mechs, this is Captain Angus McRory, Fitzhume Highlanders." A radio message, broadcast in the open.
"Put Enbo on a second speaker," orders Davout. His sitting in his chair, arms crossed.
"I call upon you to surrender," continues McRory.
"A reasonable request Captain. I ask your indulgence for a moment." replies Enbo.
"Sir? Andrew?" asks Enbo. "Your call sir."
"No, it's not." replies Jason Suvarov. He's a younger Mechwarrior, from the Free Worlds league. A recent friend of Spector's, I've often found them chattering away in Russian.
"My Reactors shielding is gone. I'm a dead man." The TOC is quiet. A quick glance at Enbo's reading shows this to be true, the chest of the Zeus is glowing red hot in the heat display.
"Tang, when I start, you go. Red Cloud, call a strike in on this position, lets wreak some havoc." Theres a pause. "Sir, when you see Ariel next, tell him Standing Orders."
Davout is silent for a minute, then keys his headset.
"Copy that Jason..Red Cloud, make it happen." He takes his headset off, and walks out of the TOC. Meanwhile coordinates are being called out.
"Shot."
"Apache, shot lands in ten seconds."
"Captain, while your offer is generous, I am afraid I have to decline." The ground erupts as the artillery shells land. One hits the Thunderbolt in the torso next to its boxy head, and it collapses like a puppet with cut strings. The confusion is brief, and enough. Enbo fire as he retreats down the main entrance, focusing on McRory's Archer. Suvarov bellows a Russian warcry, then moves as best as he can into the fray. It is over quickly, Suvarov's mech explodes, taking with it the damaged Highlander Crusader. The delay is enough though, Enbo is able to retreat through the main entrance and into the slag piles. McRory doesn't follow though, he knows its a losing proposition for him, what initiative he has will be lost. He retreats.
The TOC is silent, there will be more battles to come. I leave the tent, noone notices.
The field laager is a quick setup, rudimentary gantry's, a few supply vehicles, the command tents themselves are quick setup affairs. Davout is marching off in his Warhammer as I leave, the rest of the Command Lance trailing him. News of whats happened at the mining complex has spread, the grapevine is well grown and tended here.
Most of B Squadron is present, I find Tolbhukin laying in the shade beneath his Chameleon.
"Mister McEuen. A hard day today." I thought he was asleep.
"Indeed. I was wondering if I could ask you a question."
"Of course."
"Jason mentioned something about Standing Orders?"
Mikhail lifts one eye, staring at me for a moment. The he sits up.
"It's a Russian thing. You go back through time, people will tell you they've been through it all, seen it all, had it rough. A Russian, a true Russian, will laugh at you. They know war, they know poverty, they know loss, they know suffering, and through it all they endure. Because that's what they do. And through the centuries, its been ingrained into us. No matter what the circumstances, we will endure. Kerensky was Russian, a true Russian, as was Jason, as is Ariel, as am I.
"There used to be a romantic movement about us. Look how tough they are, look how they endure. The soldiers especially. From facing Jhengiz Khan on the steppes, to Hitler in the Great Patriotic War, to Amaris during the occupation. We endure, we don't know any better. Anyways, Standing Orders. Its a cinematic tradition, but like all things its based in truth. In the context of what Jason was saying, Its a saying, probably changed over time from the original, but it goes like this: If you cannot move, become a pillbox. If you cannot shoot, become a bunker. If you are out of time, become a hero."
He stands up, stretches, towering over me. How he fits into the cockpit of his mech I am not sure.
A small bottle appears in his hand, a home brewed vodka he's been working on. Rumor has it the techs use it to strip paint from the units. But its only a rumor.
"Suvarov died a hero today. I can only hope when my time is come I can do the same." He takes a swig of the bottle, and passes it to me, and expectant look in his eyes.
I take a swig.
The techs weren't to far from wrong. But Tolbhukin was right. By the end of the campaign, he too, would be a hero. January 7th, 3029
Author's Note: The New Year has not started well for what remains of Fitzhumes Highlanders. Captain MacRory's call has split what remains of McNab's Battalion. Almost two companies worth of Mechs walked into captivity, leaving McNab to retreat towards his dropship. The Angels pursuit has been steady, and not overly aggressive. For all intents and purposes they are herding what remains of the Highlanders.
"You did what?"
"I challenged him to a duel. One on One."
"Why?"
"Because I Know its the one thing he will go for. He hates me, and he'll want to show off. I told him when, I told him where, and I said I'll be waiting for him."
"And you did this without asking any of us?"
"Why Louis, did you want to fight him?"
"That's not what he's saying, Andrew..."
"Then what are you saying?"
"How could you make that decision?"
"Look, we know the terrain there. He can't have picked a better place to dig in and hold us off. While we own the air that dropship isn't going anywhere, and I'm not willing to spend the lives we'd need to dig him out. And until supply gets the artillery problems sorted out, its either this or a full frontal assault. Now, I know deep down we're Lyrans...."
"But a duel? Why?"
"Because it will distract him while the real fight is going on..."
January 8th
Brian McEuen: Have a moment?
Andrew Davout: Sure. Maybe. Well, depends on what your going to ask.
BM: Just a couple of questions before you head out, but if you think this is distracting I can always come back.
AD: I admire your faith in me Brian.
BM: How so?
AD: You think I'm coming back <smiles>
BM: Well, I've seen quite a bit these past four years, nothing would surprise me anymore.
AD: It has been a strange and interesting trip.
BM: In our first interview you had mentioned that you wanted to study history. Do you think you could ever go back to that life?
AD: Well, that's an interesting question. What brought that up?
BM: Well, if there's one thing I've found since I started these interviews, it's that almost everybody here is doing what they want to do. But I get the impression from you that being a mechwarrior, being a commander, it hasn't been your calling. It's something you do because you are good at it.
AD: Have you been talking to Doc Adler again, haven't you? (Doctor Avram Adler is the units Psychologist. He does not do interviews.)
BM: No, just an observation.
AD: It's a good one. <Sighs>. I....I wish I could explain it so that it made sense. Then again, I have a hard to explaining it to myself, and if I can't explain it to myself, how on earth am I going to explain it to you? You know whats crazy? <Pauses> All my life, there's always been someone better than me, no matter what I attempted to do. But I've always been near the top.
BM: I'm not sure I understand?
AD: I got that scholarship to Tharkad, but only because the person ahead of me on the list chose to go to New Avalon instead. I graduated from Coventry Top Five, but I was fifth, there were four better than me. I've always managed to excel, but its taken quite a bit of hard work and studying. Except in one thing.
BM: Whats that?
AD: This. <Davout waves his hands around his office, which are filled with the remnants and mementos of the past years.> For reasons I cannot explain, being a soldier, being a leader, it's like breathing to me. It's second nature, and I'm good at it. And that causes me a serious amount of personal grief.
BM: I'm not sure I understand.
AD: How do you tell people your one talent in the universe is killing them efficiently and effectively? That when your looking at a photo or a vid your assessing the terrain and figuring out how your going to deploy your troops. That when planning I can see in my mind whats happening...sad thing is I'm not even the best in the unit at that. Nicholai, Leftenant Orlov, he's become my sounding board on many operational details, and he can just glance at what I want to do and tell me the potential pitfalls and mistakes waiting to happen. Course, he's been playing Grandmaster level chess since he was 12 as well, so maybe that has a lot to do with it...
BM: So why does that cause your so much trouble?
AD: It's purely in my head, I assure you. Laughs slightly. I don't know. I wish I could explain it but I really can't. It's not the idea of killing, I am OK with that. Least I think I am. Well, maybe not. I don't know. <Silence>
AD: We used to hunt on Coventry. Deer and Elk, go spearfishing on vacation. But fighting...I remember Will sending me vids from time to time, talking about his training, and his first skirmishes, how he was scared sh....well, scared. It becomes less about the fight and more about survival...about knowing what you would do to win, about knowing when to cut out so you could fight another day. I remember the tone of Will's vids changing over time, but I didn't pay attention to it. Didn't really hit me until he died on Severn.
BM: So when did it first start bothering you?
AD: Hesperus, against the Dragoons. That was an on the job training situation. I literally landed, got my mech, was introduced to my lance, my Sergeant, and my CO, Two weeks later I'm in the field and two weeks after that the Dragoons are at the drop point.
BM: Did you come close there?
AD: Pauses. My 'hammer got hipped the first week of skirmishing, so I moved to a different Warhammer. My company was in the Kawnee Valley, when Epsilon Regiment hit us. We get a contact, move to investigate it, next thing I know, I'm lying on my back, the cockpit glass is gone, I'm showered with what remains of it and cuts...apparently I caught an autocannon shell from an Orion with my mechs face.
BM: Ariel mentioned a similar incident on one of his combat patrols when he first started flying...
AD: Yeah, we shared a few drinks over that one night.
BM: So what did you do?
AD: In short? I got mad. Stood up, rejoined the fight. Three hours later about the only armor I had left was on my rear torsos. The gyro was dinged, the SRM launcher had been shot clean off, I was missing an arm, left leg was fused at the knew, worst shape I'd ever been in, second hardest fight of my mechwarrior life.
BM: Lot of casualties?
AD: I had two pilots punch out but they both lived. I got the Orion that hit me early one, PPC blast hit the LRM ammo, pilot never punched out.
BM: Did you think about if afterwards?
AD: That battle? In a clinical sort of way. What did I do wrong, what could I have done better. Some people, they go all introverted on the job, wonder why them and not the other person, or vice versa. Me, I figured it was him or me. I never really dwelled on that part of it. I never really gave any attention to the fact I had killed another person. Part of me says they knew the risks, just like I do. The other part, it didn't really bother me to much...
BM: Till Dalcour?
AD: No, that was different. First time it really hit me was on Pencader, when we came across Kommandant von Hausings remains. He put up a hell of a fight, and for that he was executed about as blatantly as you can imagine. I remember coming across the battlefield, being able to see in my mind what had happened, who got knocked out when and where...But the thing that turned me cynical was McNab's award ceremony afterwards on Cavanaugh. I'd just sent my sergeants remains back to his wife on Thorin, my company was decimated, and he got a medal, and he didn't do a verdamnt thing. And that night I started figuring out ways to kill him. Easy ways, hard ways, hidden ways...and that's when I realized it: here I am talking about taking someone else's life, and it's like I'm ordering breakfast at the canteen. Dalcour was, well, cathartic in a way. Both times we were there.
BM: Do you think this feeling is pathological?
AD: The only thing pathological about me is my hate for Russ McNab. I'll be honest, that hate used to keep me warm at night. Its dissociative, that's for sure. That's when I realized that killing wasn't hard, and neither was living with it.
BM: And that bothers you?
AD: What can I say, I'm weird like that. But then again you have places like Marinius House on Zaniah...
BM: So do you see yourself as a Cincinnatus then?
AD: Pauses, thinking for a moment. I'll admit the idea of settling down and leaving this all behind has it's merits, but to quote another famous military man, I could never leave this life. God help me I love it.
BM: You've never been a particularly religious man though.
AD: I know, I'd hate to think what sort of mental contortions I'd be doing if I did have some sort of religious bent.
BM: So do you believe in a God?
AD: I believe in a higher power. Is it the Christian God, the Jewish God, Allah, or some unknown deity? I'm not sure. I'm pretty sure a higher power helped me on Hesperus, and guided us to that Mennonite village on Dalcour, and saved me on Engadin...
BM: You've never mentioned Engadin before-
AD: <Interrupting> Forget I ever said that.
BM: So there are some things about this life that bother you then?
AD: Yes, but to me, they're minor. And part of me says they should affect me more. And part of me often wonders if what I do feel is the right thing. The only thing I know I do feel on a constant basis is grief when one of the members passes away, but I suspect that's universal.
BM: So is there a difference to you when say, Jed Gudin or Gouvion Bessieres gets killed as opposed to say-
AD: Greg Wolcott? I'd be lying if I said no. Losing someone like Jed was like losing a part of me. We served together, he was in a sense my second brother. Govuion, I didn't know too well. He was a private person with a history he didn't want to share, and I respected that. I knew what happened with him, and felt he needed a chance to redeem himself. I'd like to think that if I were in the same situation I'd be able to do as well as he did. Wolcott was a training accident, and those happen. Does the manner of his death means it affects me or the other members of the unit less. Would his death have somehow been "Better" if it was in combat, or in sacrificing himself like Gouvion or Mikhail or Jason? I don't know. His deathbothered me, maybe more because of the way it happened. But then death is a part of this job. Top says he didn't join the military to die old and in bed, I think if you asked around you find that's a universal truism for those of us in any uniform.
BM: So you don't expect to grow old and die in bed?
AD: Oh, I plan to <laughing>. And so does Top, believe me. But no plan survives contact with the enemy. Given the nature of my chosen profession, I need to do what I can to make those odds more in my favor. Pauses. See, you think after all this talk about death and feelings and emotions I'd be all melancholy...
BM: True. Let me ask you this, and feel free to not answer.
AD: Well, that's a loaded statement.
BM: Is Russ McNab better than you?
<Pause> Andrew sits still for a few moments, and I begin to wonder if I did indeed cross the line.
AD: He's a good pilot, a good gunner. And as anyone can tell you, the weird and improbable can always happen on the battlefield, the one shell or laser with "Your name on it" will always find you. If I die today, I die doing what I love doing. And that to me is not a wasted life.
Atala Forestry had a contract to remove a few hundred acres of certain old growth on the Konstantin Peninsula. From the air it looks like a patchwork quilt, a sea of green broken by a couple of square acres of recent harvesting. About a third of the way up the Peninsula the remaining mechs of Fitzhume's Highlanders have dug in, and they've chosen their ground well. Hilly terrain with limited approaches, limited line of sight. The cost of digging them out would be too high. A few kilometers away from the Highlanders defensive line is one of the harvested areas, maybe a kilometer squared of cleared trees, bisected by a small river. Other than the stumps and underbrush, there's no other terrain.
"Roughrider Six, Red Cloud Six, have eyes on 4 mechs, say again eyes on 4 mechs, heading towards the north end of the clear zone."
"Copy that Red Cloud."
"I still say this is a dumb idea."
"I understand Top, but this is also the easiest way to get the job done. And you know it."
"Do you trust him?"
"Of course not, Tang that's why I have you all here with me."
"Roughrider Six, Red Cloud Six. I have visual on one Orion, one Crusader, one Phoenix Hawk and one Wolverine. Estimate arrival at North treeline in two minutes."
"Thank You Red Cloud. Pull back to Point RENO and await further instructions."
"On the way Sir. And Good Hunting Roughrider."
"Thank You."
It didn't take to long, you could see the tops of the trees move as mechs brushed against them, birds and other species taking to the air. Davout stepped his Warhammer out into the clearing about 50 meters past the southern part of the tree line, and opened a clear channel.
"Took you long enough Russ."
"Go to hell you piece of-"
"Temper, temper Kommandant. Or is it Colonel now?"
"Like you care, Davout. Besides, in a few minutes it's not going to matter." At the North end of the cleared zone, the Orion stepped through, and also came about 50 meters in. It's armor was a patchwork of repairs, but it looked fully operational.
"I didn't think you'd be serious about this Andy."
"Russ, have you ever known me not to keep my word? After all, I told you on Pencader I'd do what I could to get back at you, I told you on Cavanaugh I'd have fun spending your ill gotten gains, and I told you on Galatea that that the next time we'd meet it would be face to face and in a mech."
McNab didn't answer, but if a mech could shake with anger the way it's pilot was, the Orion was going to fall apart.
"As I said over the radio Russ, if you win, you get to retreat unmolested to your dropship and get to jump back to wherever you came from."
"You mean when I win."
"Whatever makes you feel better at night Russ."
"But the flip side remains true as well. I win, and the rest of the Highlanders surrender to the militia."
"You think your winning, how cute."
"Russ, I did give you my word, right? And as you know, I always keep it."
"I'm going to enjoy killing you Andy. You've been a pain for nine years, and I'm going to die a happy man knowing I killed you and there's nothing you can do about it." As the exchange has gone on McNab has slowly been moving his Orion forward.
"You've obviously not heard the good news then." replied Davout.
"And whats that?" McNab's tone was as derisive as he could make that.
"I'm going to be a dad. It's going to be a boy. And if I die here today, his mom will make sure he kills you, sometime, someday, somewhere. So you had better give it your best shot."
McNab screams, and triggers his LRM's, but they fly wide. Davout doesn't even move his mech, but twists at the torso to watch them fly by tens of meters away.
"Russ, if that's the best you can do, you are well and truly screwed." Twisting back around, Davout steps forward, raises his Warhammer's PPC's, and fires.
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Not bad... And plenty deep in the philosophical.
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A bit of philosophy before the important part. Killing Mcnab. }:)
Good write up.
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A bit of philosophy before the important part. Killing Mcnab. }:)
Good write up.
yep and step one is really piss him off so he doesnt think straight :-P
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On the other hand, this is 3028, the start of Big 4th, there weren't, really, the uttloads of Mechs, unless you buy into the retconned cookiecutter factory mentality...
As far as I know, there is no Fourth Succession War in universe where Hesperus II has nothing better than undermountain warehouses and Wolf's Dragoons is single regiment.
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Just a placeholder. Still working on this my personal gaming time has taken a bit of a hit, and I'll have something up.....soon.
Soonish.
Thanks for reading,
Davout
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Real life is hitting everybody hard nowadays.
I'll be patient. O:-)
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Pierre Villenueve is one of the original members of the Furious Angels, a small man whose glasses made him look more the Academic than mechwarrior. I have to admit, I have not spent a great deal of time with him while with the Angels. He just sort of, blends in, does his duty, and doesn't get noticed to much. While we've spent a great time on our journey talking, he's evaded my questions about his background with a small dismissive wave and a "Later...after..."
If the city or bar had a name, I didn't know it. Frankly, I didn't care. The last eight weeks had been uneventful after the jump, and for the umpteenth time I caught myself wondering why I had volunteered to come.
It was quiet when we arrived, a couple of out of towners looking for a drink to pass the time. We hadn't spent to long at the space port, the transfer had already been arranged.
A couple hours passed by, spent mostly in silence. We both nursed our drink and food, watched the farm reports on the trid above the bar.
The doors to the bar slam open, and a rabble of men pour in. Loud, boisterous, yelling at the bartender their drinks while sidling up. One of them seems to be the leader of the group, a large man whose gone to seed. His voice, like his manners, are rough. He looks familiar to me, but I can't place him. I notice Pierre has finished his drink and is watching the group of men intently.
"Damn what a day," says the large man after a drink. "Days like these I wish I was back in the Hawk, nothing like a few machine gun bursts to keep the beefalo in order..."
"Speaking of which, you heard from Brian lately?" asks the bartender. "Hows he getting on?"
The large man finishes he beer in one long pull, the gestures for another.
"Got hisself a company in the Highlanders, says he's in line for battalion command once McNab takes over. Course that information is a few months old, what with the war and all going on. Said he's going to get himself some revenge in short order." The last sentence was supposed to be a whisper, in a conspiratorial sort of way. Then it hits me. This man is Brian Morands father. I start to say something to Pierre, but he silences me with a small hand wave.
"Dammit Bill, turn this farm report crap off, put the games on," Morand gestures at the trid. The bartender complies, and soon were watching six month old games from Solaris. A few minutes into them Morand is regaling his friends about the mistakes the other pilots are making, how he or Brian would be doing so much better. Pierre grabs his mug, stands up, and walks to the bar. I sit up a bit straighter.
Wedging his way to the bar behind Morand. Pierre gets his mug refilled. As he turns back towards me, I see him wink at me, then his face goes impassive Then he spills about half of his beer on the floor. He taps Morand on a shoulder.
"Excuse me," he says.
"What?" Morand turns around, and see's who he's talking to. "What the hell do you-"
"You bumped into me and spilled my drink, you owe me a refill."
"Say what?" Morands face is ruddy, whether from sun or drink (or both), but there's a momentary look of confusion on his face, replaced by a look that's meant to intimidate. It rolls off Pierre. The men behind Pierre however, pick up their drinks and start to back up
"You heard me you half drunk braggart. You spilled my beer. Now get me another one or I'll drop you like Justin Allard Liao dropped Phillip Capet." Villinueves voice is hard. The bar began to quiet down as Morand's men heard what was happening and stood up. There was one one behind Pierre, he took a step back and looked to Morand.
"You tell your friend back there he makes one more move and I'll break both his arms before you can form a full sentence."
Morand blinks.
"Is your hearing defective? I said you owe me a beer." Pierres voice is hard.
Morand smiles. "If your looking for trouble you just found it."
"Actually what I'm looking for is a half assed, half drunk former mechwarrior forced to resign in disgrace from the LCAF, a braggart who can't back up what he says. You know anyone here like that?"
Morand's face grows even redder. The bar is now deathly quiet.
"You got a big mouth for someone so small," he whispers. While he doesn't exactly tower over Pierre, Morand is bigger.
"It's the law of Inverse Proportions. The corollary is that bigger men usually have smaller brains and are therefore slower on the tick. Like yourself." Pierre gestures a little to flamboyantly with his mug, spilling more beer, this time on Morand's boots.
"Dammit, you made me spill my beer again," said Pierre.
Morand punches Pierre. Even I could see it telegraphed, a looping right fist that started near Morands waist. Pierre saw it coming, turned his head as it connected. Morand almost falls over, his own punch and the alcohol having unbalanced him, spinning him around 180 degrees. He's got an idiot grin on his face as he stands back up. The look on his friends faces, one of awe and horror as they glance behind him, make him turn around. The shock is evident as he see Pierre still standing, rubbing his face with his free hand, straightening his glasses.
"You hit like a Canopian pleasure boy. My turn."
Savate is a hard martial art form, and having watched Pierre give Leftenant Enbo a run for his money on the sparring mats, what follows next is shockingly violent and short. In less than a minute four of Morand's friends are on the bar floor, screaming with broken knees and legs. The fifth one is out cold. Morand is upright, but barely, his nose a flattened mess of blood and cartilage. Pierre has him bent over the bar, Morand's arm in a hold that's as painful as it looks. The bartender has a look on his face that tells me his mind is still trying to figure out what to do.
"Your name," said Pierre, leaning in close, "Is Eric Morand." His voice is loud, the men on the floor are making enough noise that Pierre is almost shouting. "You are the son of Senior Sergeant Major James Morand. You went to the Somerset Military Academy, and graduated in the bottom of your class, then spent seven years in the 15th Lyran. After innumerable non judicial punishments you were finally courtmartialed out of service, having never reached any rank above Private First Class. You spent eight months on Solaris, where you fought two matches in the D Class, and lost both."
The bar is quiet now, even the men on the floor have quieted down enough.
"Your son Brian graduated from New Capetown, served in the 6th Lyran, and left to join the Furious Angels, rising to the command of Captain. Two years he was drummed out of the unit on charges relating to theft, and he joined Fitzhumes Highlanders. Am I lying about anything I just said?" Pierres question goes unanswered, until he tightens the arm bar he has on Morand.
"NO!" Morands cry is almost defiant.
"Your son was a liar and a thief, which means the apple didn't fall to far from the tree. I want you to watch something." He motions at me with his head. My hands are clammy as I walk through the carnage to the bar, handing over a disk to the bartender.
"Put it in." says Pierre. Just the the door opens, and a group of men stop at the entrance.
"Get. Out." Pierres voice is flat. The man in front see's Morand in Pierres grasp and his eyes widen.
"Bars closed guys, lets go down the street." he says, turning around and chivvying his group away.
The recording starts, and I am back on the Konstantin Peninsula. Arcadia. Watching that damn duel again. Pierre asks for the remote, and the bartender puts it in front of him.
It is clear McNab is rattled, his first few shots go wide, and Andrews PPC's score hits on the Orions legs and Torsos. McNabb begins to close, and in a volley that is almost to good to be true, his AC/10 and LRMs blanket the Warhammer's left side. When the smoke dissipated the torso is a pockmarked mess, the PPC arm hangs limply. Andrew recovers quickly, twisting his right side to protect his left, and McNab charges in. One of Andrews lasers scores a hit over a weakspot in the Orions center torso armor, and the Orion shudders as the gyro is hit. Pierre has started a commentary on the action.
"The Warhammer is Andrew Davout. The Orion is Russ McNab. So, what would you do here, Morand? Jock like you, all that time in the Solaris Pits. Would you fake right here and go left?" Pierre has paused the video. "Lets see..Oh look, thats what McNab did, and he caught a full spread to the chest...threw his aim off...what would you do here...feint and hop to the right?" Again he has paused the trid. "Lets see.."
And then it happens. McNabs Autocannon hits, and it staggers the Warhammer, which falls to one knee. Before he can recover, McNab charges and hits, and both mechs fall down.
With some effort, the Orion stands upright first, McNab places one of his feet on the Warhammers good arm, preventing Davout from moving. The audio kicks in.
"I've got you know you smug son of a bitch." McNabs voice is raw. "Any last words?"
Davout is laughing with pain. The fall cracked a couple of his ribs.
"Your still an ignorant ass Russ. Did you forget how to count?"
"What the hell are you going on about Davout."
"Your out of SRM's and LRMs' Russ. You've got one medium laser left, and you just fired your last AC round. You saw what you wanted to see, and have ignored everything else going on." There's a pause. This is when McNab is getting the news that while he and Davout have been fighting, B Troop has infiltrated and attacked the Highlander defensive position, overrunning it and interposing themselves between McNab and the dropship. There is a guttural cry as McNab alpha fires everything he has. Davout was right, only the two Hellion medium laser fire, the SRM launcher and AC both click on empty ammo cassettes.
"Goodbye Russ. See you in the next life."
The Warhammers left PPC raises until the barrel is in line with the Orions head, and it fires.
Decapitated, the Orion shudders back a couple of steps, and falls without grace to the deforested ground. It's clear Andrew has been hurt and shaken, it takes a moment for him to get the Saint Demetrius to one knee.
"Now this, this is where its gets interesting." says Pierre, his voice low.
Just as he gets to his feet and turns around, a shadow enters the field of view, and a second later a Phoenix Hawk, it's jumps jets blazing, lands on top of the Warhammer. Davout never saw it coming. The 45 ton mech lands with enough force to drive the Warhammer to its knees, and then it pitches face down. Brian Morand somehow manages to keep his mech on his feet, fires a desultory medium laser into the Warhammers back, and then takes off.
"That was your son, in the family Phoenix Hawk, ambushing Major Davout as he was leaving the field. Do you want to know what happened next?"
It was a bloodbath. The remaining Highlander mechs were caught unawares by Morand's maneuver, and the volley of incoming fire from the Angels who were present. A few of the Highlanders shut down almost immediately, a couple of punched out. Those that tried to fight went down quickly, no quarter given.
"Now, you may be asking youself, where was your son in all of this? Lets find out." The trid changes again, a cockpit view. Large trees, dense undergrowth, rays of sunlight..a glimpse of metal here and there.
"He ran, a gutless backstabber and coward. And I chased him. For three days I chased him. He ran out of room, and I caught up to him." The trees give way to a rocky clearing. A cliff, the blue of the Arcadian ocean curves away in the background.
The audio changes. It's clear Morand is a desperate man, pleading for his life. You can hear the tears and anguish in his voice.
"Your son was a coward. What few redeeming qualities he had went away when his greed got the better of him, and his actions got my two best friends killed. He essentially stabs our commanding officer in the back, and then when trapped like a rat in a corner he begs for his life, calls on a friendship long dead, of a bond long broken. Do you want to know what I did?" Pierre leans in close, and whispers in the elder Morands ear. A few seconds later an inarticulate cry, followed by wracking sobs, is all that is coming from Eric Morand. Pierre lets the arm bar go, and Morand slides off the bar, landing on the floor, still sobbing.
"Uhm excuse me?" There is a small voice at the door. "I got a delivery here for Eric Morand?" The look on the mans face as he takes in the scene in front of him is priceless.
"Right there," said Pierre, gesturing to the crying man on the floor. "You can drop it off out front." He reaches into a pocket and pulls out a credit chit. "For our bills and damages." He hands it to the bartender, who stands in shocked silence.
He holds the door open for me as we leave, just as the heavy hauler stops in front of the bar. There is a crowd gathering under the night sky, wondering whats going on
In the passenger seat, Brian Morand stares straight ahead, both his legs still in casts. I barely glance at him, Pierre ignores him. On the bed of the hauler is what remains of the Phoenix Hawk, thirty or so tons of scrap that can never be put back together or reassembled. As we walk down the street I hear another anguished cry, Eric Morand has come out and seen what has happened.
"What did you tell him?" I asked.
"I told him the truth," Pierre replied. "That his son ejected, broke both his legs landing on the rocks, and then watched as I took the family mech apart piece by piece until it was no longer recognizable as an instrument of war. There will never be another Morand in a mech seat again."
We walk in silence for a few minutes, there are a ton of unanswered questions between us.
"My father served with him in the Fifteenth." said Pierre, quietly. Just then, a series of gunshots ripped through the night sky. We both stop. None came near us, and they were quickly followed by cheering and honking. Behind us lights came on and people came streaming out of buildings. More gunshots echoed into the night sky.
"Celebratory Fire," says Pierre, smiling as he takes me by the arm, leads me away from the growing crowd. "Usually harmless when it falls back to earth, but why risk it?"
He hails a cab, which pulls over. We climb in, and the driver is almost bouncing up and down. He's got the radio going on full volume.
"Did you guys here the news?" he says, giddy with happiness. "The War's over!" It takes Pierre a few attempts to get him to listen to where we want to go, and the promise of a huge tip if we get there fast. Finally we take off, detouring to avoid the crowd.
The War was over.
I didn't know whether to laugh or cry.
From the journal of Brian McEuen.
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Hit like a Canopian Pleasure Boy. Now that would hurt. ;D
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Yea, that is gonna leave a mark.
And I know what savate does... OUCH.
But then, it's pity that the backstabbr apparently succeeded. :/
-
I've received more than a few inquiries as to whether or not I am going to keep this going, and I am. The problem is a lot of my time and energy is invested in work and my Alt-U thread, see link below, and I'm working quite a bit.
As a side note, there is a Arcadia summary in my Kiiro no Tori book.
Anyways, I've got a rough outline of what I want to do, but here's something to tide you over, I hope:
From Twenty Years Later, a Retrospective, by Brian McEuen.
People have often asked me if the members of the Furious Angels sought me out. Truth of the matter is, I didn't. I was drinking at a bar when I heard Louis Berthier give his recruitment pitch to another patron, and I thought that this could be the beginnings of a good story, new mercenary unit, trying to make it in the Inner Sphere. I expected a couple of columns, maybe a series or two, but then Five years of interviews and vids made the Angels pretty popular, made me popular. Readership across the sphere started booming after Galatea News Network did a profile on them, pretty soon the releases were being read by millions of readers.
After the Fourth Succession War ended, the Angel rebuilt on Arcadia. Almost two companies of Highlanders joined them, and almost a regiments worth of Arcadia militia joined up as well when their contracts were up. The governor yelled and screamed about that, bt whatever enmity the people of Arcadia felt towards the Angels had died down, especially after Von Jungers and Osgoode ended up serving hard time after they were convicted.
Jedidiah Allen Joachim Davout, who was known as JJ before he was out of the womb, was born shortly after his father had fully recovered from his duel with McNab. From 3030 until 3035, the Furious Angels stayed on Arcadia, occasionally raiding across the Marik border. On one occasion they were contracted to go after a particularly brutal band of pirates in 3034, a six month campaign that was as tough as any series of battles they had fought. John Friant, Jacob Lannes, Liam Suchet, original member of the Angels, died on that campaign. Pierre Villenueve lost both legs and retired. Oscar Grouchy came back, said he had enough, and went to Zaniah House, no ones heard from him since.
The Angels sat out the War of 3039, instead they spent that war doing what they did in the Fourth Succession War, watching the Marik border, driving back the one incursion Kingston's Commando's had launched. After that war ended, the Angels stayed on Arcadia until 3042, when they moved to Accrington. By this time the Angels were a Regiment of Battlemechs, a regiment of Armor, a regiment of Infantry, with Artillery and Aerospace support, with a solid reputation and excellent rating.
In 3045 my editor had this bright idea, a new book on the Furious Angels, twenty years later. A followup on who was doing what, who had retired, what the unit was up to. I said sure, why not, went to Accrington and ended up dodgong Kuritan Aerospace Fighters on the way in for my troubles...
But I will admit, it was good to see Davout and them men and women I wrote about again. We were all a little bit older, a little bit slower. We would sit and talk about the old days, then raise a glass (or three) in their name, then reminisce some more. Andrew talked about retiring, moving back to Coventry, maybe teaching, or something, but that seemed like a fantasy more than anything else. As conflicted as he was before his duel with McNab, he seemed to have made peace with himself.
In late 3048 The Angels accepted an offer from the Pinnacle Planetary government in the FRR, to help train the local militia up and act as a deterrent to local pirate attacks. With the LCAF's blessing, Kampfgruppe Geronimo, consisting of the Angels 2nd Mech Battalion, 3rd Armored Battalion, and 3rd Infantry Battalion made it's way to Pinnacle, with Colonel Angus MacRory in command. On a whim I went with them, ostensibly to interview many of the newer members of the Angels, but also to follow JJ around. Having grown up in the unit, he had been living and breathing mechs and the mercenary life since he was born. An accomplished pilot at a young age, he decided to forgo attending any of the academies, instead he joined the Angels as a trooper, started out in an Infantry Platoon when he was 17, and when KG Geronimo went the Pinnacle, he went with them as part of the tech support group.
Pinnacle was...different. The population was divided. Half of them like the Angels, the other half wanted them gone as soon as possible. The KG spent most of its time at Fort Chacey when it wasn't on maneuver's, it kept the disturbances to a minimum. There was a brwal that broke out on New Years Eve of 3049, some drunk fools tried to take on a platoon of Infantry that was in town augmenting the local civilian police force, it was a short fight, but the local press was soon screaming about our presence on planet. The Angels contract was up at the end of March, by the middle of it almost all of the unit was packed up and ready to get off planet. They knew when they were not wanted.
I remember JJ shaking me awake.
"Brian. Brian! Come quick, you need to hear this." His voice was earnest, in the dim light his profile looked more and more like his fathers.
"What is it?" I asked, stumbling out of bed, trying to find something more than a bathrobe to wear.
"Something jumped in system a couple of hours ago. We just started receiving a communication from whoever they are, and we need your help."
Shaking the fog out of my head, I followed him to the communication shack, which was much to crowded for the time of morning.
"What's going on?" I asked.
"Chuffed if I know," replied MacRory, "does this make any sense to you?" He tapped the commo tech on the shoulder, and she leaned forward and keyed something in.
There was a a brief moment of static, and then a voice, powerful, confident.
"This is Star Colonel Boris Jorgensson of Delta Galaxy, Clan Ghost Bear. With what forces do you choose to defend Pinnacle with?"
Hard to imagine, looking back, that my old nightmares could be replaced by new ones, and all it took was a simple statement from an unknown enemy to stat them.
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Its going to be a few before I can pick this up again, but I'll do what I can to keep it moving, most likely monthly updates
Dav
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Angels versus Clans, now this is going to be interesting.
Especially with so much of the Angels' hardware in the proverbial crates now?
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From the journal of Brian McEuen.
Losing is not something the Furious Angels are accustomed too. While they have lost a battle from time to time, they have never lost a campaign, but this new unit, this Clan Ghost Bear, has beaten them thoroughly, “From Pillar to Post” as Colonel MacRory put it. At the time Colonel Davout bought the new weapons packs, the first and thus far only time the Angels have gone into debt, there was a question of how well they would do, how they could enhance the unit. The heat sinks weren’t new to us, but the longer ranged lasers, missiles, more powerful communications and countermeasure systems, they gave the Angels an edge they ruthlessly exploited in their Periphery campaigns. It was a rude awakening when they were on the receiving end of superior weaponry.
Ten mechs, a make I’d never seen before, faster, more powerful. Ten mechs obliterated KG Geronimo’s Dagger Troop in less than thirty minutes of battle. That was not the only shock. The Armor guys ran into a new type of unit, a powered armor infantry that literally tore their vehicles apart around them. RUMINT said the snakes and AFFC had something similar in the works, but these. The Angel Infantry scattered after a brief firefight, when crew served weapons can’t slow an enemy down, discretion is the better part of valor.
The Pinnacle militia lasted less than three days, and the Angels were getting ready to boost off.
Furious Angels Command Center. Present are Major Agnes Dupree, the KG’s Ops Officer, Captain Horace Markham, Echo Troop commander, injured in a previous fight with Clan Ghost Bear, and several technicians. Outside, the space port is humming with activity. The Angels will be boosting off planet soon. Captain Mosley has calculated a trajectory that will keep them away from the warships. Colonel MacRory and the remaining mech units are in Grieg’s Pass, waiting for the Ghost Bears to show up.
“Contact, Sensor 4.” MacRory has deployed several seismic sensors throughout the pass. He used the same tactic against the Red Hand in 3034 with great success.
“Contact, Sensor 5.” another tech calls out. “Contact, Sensor 7.”
“Too Fast.” Said Dupree, looking at her readout. “Mjolnir two six, this is Geronimo three six. Fire Mission, Point Charlie, TOT in twenty seconds on my mark. MARK!”
“Copy that Geronimo Three Six.” A Pause. The clocks third hand moves slow. “Shot.”
“Contact, Fencer four six has contact, grid coordinates 3282357. Roaches and Light mechs.”
Dupree frowns, looking at her readout.
“Flanking attack?” ventures Captain Markham.
“Has to be,” replied Dupree. “Fencer Four Six, roger your contact, evade and exfiltrate back to point CAESAR.
“Contact! Contact front, 1500 meters and approaching. Enemy mechs and Roaches, I count nine.”
“Can’t be, we destroyed three in that ambush a day ago.” Came another voice.
“Verifying….Geronimo six, these are not the same mech’s we’ve been fighting; I’ve got a new emblem over the six armed bear. Have at least one enemy mech heavily damaged, two medium damage. Arty did some good.”
“Mjolnir, Target Point Tripwire, fire on my mark….MARK!”
“Shot.”
The Clan troops opened fire just as the next wave of artillery shells landed among them. One mech toppled over, its spindly legs snapped in half by a shell that landed less than five meters behind it. They recovered quickly though, spread out, and began firing long range missiles at the heat traps MacRory had set up as decoys. However, almost as soon as it started, the firing stopped.
“Damn,” muttered Dupree. “They sniffed that out way to quick.”
“CONTACT!” a desperate voice broke through the air. “Contact at Point OXALIC, multiple mechs and-“the radio squealed.
“OXALIC is ten kilometers away, how did they get there without being noticed?” asked Dupree.
The world heaved. One minute I was sitting in my corner, watching the room, the next a wave of sound and light crashed through me. When I came to I was no longer in the tent. Rather, the tent was no longer standing. The air was filled with screaming and explosions. I pulled myself to my hands and knees, trying to cough dust out of my mouth. When I looked over and saw the disemboweled remains of Major Dupree, the vomit took care of the dust.
A Ghost Bear light Mech went thundering by, firing small lasers and machine guns. An autocannon round from one of Bludgeon Troops Manstein MBT’s rocked it, it turned and fired and moved away at speed. Wiping my mouth, I staggered upright, looked around and ran for the closest building I could find.
Inside it was bedlam. Wounded Troops, screaming doctors and nurses, the sound of battle around us. I made my way to the back, where I found another tech team huddled about a radio. Captain Zacharias, the commanding officer of Bludgeon Troops, was alternating between screaming orders and listening. He was wearing a headset, which meant he was the only one who could hear what was going on.
“Yes Sir. No Sir. No Sir. Yes Sir. CLICK Tell Charlie Lance to pull back to the bridge and cover it. Tell Major Dewitt I want that bridge ready to blow on a 30 second delay, now! CLICK. No Sir. No Sir.”
Another explosion rocked the building we were in, throwing many of us to the ground. The headset became unplugged, and a cacophony of voices came through.
“Fall Back! Fall Back!”
“On your ten o’clock, ten o’clock.”
“Geronimo Six Actual is down! MacRory is down!” We had pulled ourselves to our feet when that call came over the net. There was a pause, then too many voices filled the airwaves. Finally Captain Zacharias, looking unsteady, leaned on the desk and keyed his microphone.
“This is Bludgeon Six Actual. Dunkirk Dunkirk Dunkirk. I say again, Dunkirk Dunkirk Dunkirk. HOME PLATE in three zero mikes, say again HOME PLATE in three zero mikes.” The nets were silent for a moment, and then the acknowledgements came in. A tech hazarded a glance outside the window.
“Excuse me, Sir, Sergeant Gough is in the infirmary, right?”
“Yes Corporal, why?”
“Well Sir, if he’s in the Infirmary, whose that in his Thunderbolt?” I moved to another window, watched as the Thunderbolt swatted a Roach out of the air, then turned and fired at a streaking Ghost Bear Mech, toppling it over. Then my eyes went over to a Manstein MBT less than fifty meters away. As it fired its main gun three Roaches landed near then swarmed over it. Claws raked of armor, small lasers fired. A few seconds later a sheet of fire shot out through the crew hatches as the Roaches lifted away on small jump jets. One landed, only to be crushed by the foot of a Centurion, its mates turned and launched themselves at the 50 ton mech.
“Thunderbolt, this is Bludgeon Six actual, Identify yourself!”
“Bludgeon Six, erm, don’t have a callsign. It’s JJ. Erm, Angel Six Actual, erm, Junior? Damn-“ I watched as the Thunderbolt twisted away from an LRM volley and fired back with its own LRM’s and Large Laser. “Enemy Force was five mechs and fifteen roaches, that number is now three mechs and nine roaches. Wait, make that eight, Holloway just snatched the one crawling all over him.”
“JJ, you are not supposed to be in that mech!” Captain Zacharias’s voice grew higher pitched as he spoke.
“Sir, are you ordering me to abandon this unit?”
“No. Dammit JJ, now is not the time to do this sort of thing-“
“Sir, with all due respect, were getting hammered. MacRory is down, you’ve called a Dunkirk, and we’ve got enemy troops inside the wire. There were three good mechs sitting in the repair bay, and three of us techs willing to get in them and help out. I couldn’t stand by and do nothing. I couldn’t stand by and hide.”
The panic on the Captains face was evident.
“All right JJ, you coordinate with Leftenant Cooley-“
“He’s Dead sir, tank brewed up as we came out of the hanger bays.”
“The Leftenant Holmes-“
“Also KIA sir. Sir, it looks as if they hit the tanks with the command antenna’s first. As far as I can tell-“ there was a pause as JJ was distracted. “Sir, with respect, the situation is FUBAR’d. With your permission, I will coordinate with whose left while you manage the Dunkirk. Six Junior out.”
The Captains grip on the handset was white knuckle tight, but another nearby explosion shook him into action. Outside, the battle raged.
* * * * *
There wasn’t an undamaged vehicle or mech left in the unit. Several were missing limbs, several were held together by a prayer. The storm had slowed the Bears pursuit, and when it was evident the Angels were retreating, they did very little in the way of offensive action.
Colonel MacRory, nursing his broken arms and ribs, sat in an accel couch, the remaining senior officer of the Kampfgruppe arrayed around him.
“Any word from JJ yet?” he asked.
“No Sir.” Replied Leftenant MacGinnis. “Last he was seen with Sergeant Fawkes day before yesterday at Borloshoi Bridge. It’s possible his comms were shot out. Frankly, anything’s possible.”
“OK, he knows the drill. If he’s not here in thirty, we boost without him.”
“But Sir-“
“As you were Leftenant.” MacRory winced, then adjusted himself. “OK, we know we weren’t the only planet these Ghost Bears hit. We also know we can’t go to the ALPHA rendezvous, but as our contract is going to be up before we hit ALPHA, were going back to Accrington and rejoining the rest of the unit. We have to stop at Tamar, I assume we’ll hear something yelling us otherwise to go somewhere else. In the meantime, our priority is going to be rest and repair. I don’t care what your skill set is, if you can turn a wrench, your fixing something. Wherever we end up next, we’ll be fighting these guys again, and we’re not going to make the same mistakes again.” Another wince.
“Sir, I’ve the first reports from Senior Tech Jarulski.”
“And?”
“It’s on your tablet sir, but putting it mildly, they’re faster, tougher, and have a longer reach than we do. Their ferro fibrous is less dense, as is their endo steel, so they take up less internal structure, their lasing lenses are more powerful, their engines are less bulky. Their heavier weapons use some alloy we’ve never seen, but it’s lighter than what we’ve got in stock. The only place we seem to be the same is heat dispersion, our new ones are just as efficient and almost as small as theirs.”
A few decks down, Senior Tech Jarulski and his team were taking apart the one enemy mech the Angels had managed to salvage, a 75 ton Marauder/Catapault hybrid whose pilot had ejected after getting hit in the head area. Jarulski thought that may have been a malfunction of some sort. Keeping it was out of the question, Mercenary Relations would demand it as soon as they found out about it, but that gave the Angels time to learn from it.
“Who are they?” someone asked.
“Don’t know. Don’t Care.” Replied MacRory. “The enemy. Hell, I haven’t had my ass kicked this hard since ’29.”
“Are they even human?” asked another voice. It was a valid question. Their commo, the messages we were able to intercept, was a pidgin Univeral Standard of some sort. And we had not seen our enemy face to face. The Roaches vision plate was mirrored, their mechs cockpit glass tinted. The one mech that had any good scans of the clan pilot ejecting had been destroyed in action trying to retrieve the mech. Guessing the nature of our opponent had become the unspoken game of the day.
“Yeah,” said a voice from the doorway. “They’re human. Mostly.”
JJ was covered in dirt, grime and blood. Cradling one arm close to his chest, he had another body slung over his other shoulder. Stepping into the room, he put his cargo down.
Unconscious, well toned, blonde haired, female.
“I present you the enemy. Meet Warrior Athene of the Clan Ghost Bear.”
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OK........that will be interesting.
Excellent stuff. So essentially a tech beats a warrior.
Admitedly the Bear's are moderately less fanatical than some others, but even so....
Delighted to see this carried on with!