Chapter 42
Littleton Retreat, Alphard,
Marian Hegemony
4 November, 3024.
Caesar Sean O’Reilly, successor to the recently late Marius O’Reilly, stood on the deck of Littleton House, staring across Twofold Bay and its idyllic surrounds, long the private estate of the O’Reilly family. Sean had always enjoyed this place, a location that was often the front piece of Marian tourism brochures, but one where tourists were sure to be shot on site. The house sat at the end of a long bay, facing north, its wide and deep verandahs framed by the thick local vegetation.
Sean was in a slightly pensive mood, his youthful face tight with small worry lines, which made his dark eyes appear darker and caused his otherwise handsome face, with its longish brown hair, to take on a menacing appearance. Where is Carson? He thought. Carson, or Julia Carson, was his most important advisor. Not more than a sometimes advisor to his father, Carson was the person responsible for saving the Marian line on Logan Prime when his father was killed. Had she not rallied the First and Second Legions to her call, the ORCA forces would have ended both formations as viable combat units, and allowing them to have been waiting for his own Third Legion upon his own landing.
That had to have been his less than stable father’s worst moment. Up to that point, Sean was forced to admit, the old boy had been doing well. Industry and trade in the Hegemony were booming and several worlds settled by Marian colonists were officially brought into the fold. Old Marius had even managed to take and hold Niops, much to the pleasure of the long-oppressed masses. The Hegemony did not have the freedoms of realms like the Free Worlds League, but it was a virtual paradise of liberal ideals when compared to the old Niopian system.
No fact had demonstrated the regular Niopians support of the Marian regime more, than the 2nd Atrean Hussars disastrous attack on the world in support of the Lothian/Illyrian/Circinian alliance, known as ORCA. The 2nd Atrean Hussars had expected an easy first combat assignment, underestimating their opponents severely. Unknown to outsiders, the Marian attack on Niops had freed the long-suffering underclass of Niopian society. Taking advantage of this, the now-dead Marius O’Reilly had begun arming the population and turning Niops into a fortified camp. The old boy planned to protect his valuable new acquisition, with a large local and fanatical militia being the easiest way to do it. This freed up Marian offensive forces for use against ORCA and kept the few unruly Niopian ex-rulers as a well-controlled minority. However, the remains of the previous Niopian ruler’s clique did come out to play eventually, fielding a surprisingly strong underground force.
The training of the Atrean Hussar’s pilots got the invasion force through to its meeting point with the rebel forces on planet, further adding to the Hussars low regard for their opponents. On the ground, the League units and their new allies were horribly outnumbered and the green troops of the FLWM unit lacked the seasoning to take the fight to the defenders. After just 19 days, the League forces, little more than 2 companies of Mechs and two mixed infantry/armour Battalions, abandoned Niops under the cover of their fighters and jumped back to Romita. Suffice to say the massacre of the Niopian Rebels who supported the Hussars during the battle by the Marian Militia was bloody, brutal, and effective.
Following the acquisition of Niops, old Marius saw the greater prize of Lothia and Illyria as there for the taking. The initial plan would have worked, but for three problems; Marius’s arrogance in thinking he had enough forces to win without reinforcement, and therefore not waiting for Sean and Legio III to join up with the main battle group; the lack of good intelligence on the ORCA alliance, which secretly included the Canopians and was supported by the Free Worlds; and Captain Manuel Todor, who led the Lothian Commandos in their attack on the Marian HQ on Logan Prime.
Logan Prime was where the late Caesar planned to break the armies of Lothia and Illyria, after which he could absorb their states and greatly increase the strength of the Hegemony. Hadn’t planned for Dame Logan though, had you father? Thought Sean. He had been thoroughly impressed by the Lothian leader’s diplomatic abilities, as had everyone. Just prior to Marian forces grounding on Logan Prime, Dame Logan had managed to get Circinus and Canopus to put pen to paper and join the Outer Reaches Coalition Agreement (ORCA) with Lothia and Illyria. Better yet, she managed to convince the Illyrian Merchants Council to allow her to speak on both Lothia and Illyria’s behalf.
To make matters worse, she also managed to get the Free Worlds League to transfer enough supplies and equipment to delay Marian advances on Logan Prime long enough to allow the effects of Free Worlds and Canopian strikes into Marian space to severely compromise Marian security in a three-front war.
But before that all happened, dad, you thought you were there. The initial landing on Lothia had nearly caused the complete collapse of the ORCA forces, with the highly experienced Legio I and II, supported by the Blackstone Highlanders and auxiliaries, not only hitting the line ORCA forces hard but driving back the various mercenaries that were dropped in the path of the Legions advance. Victory was all but assured at that point.
Until Captain Manuel Todor led his Lothian Commandos on a night raid on the Marian HQ, killing every senior Marian commander except for Julia Carson. When the Sentinels, one of ORCA’s mercenaries, hit the Marian line ten minutes later, the chaos was dreadful. The Marian forces were close to rout until Carson stabilised the line and Sean dropped Legio III across the ORCA advance shortly after arriving in system. Even then all was not lost, as Marian reserves were enough to force a victory through attrition, even counting the late-arriving Circinian forces. But when the Free Worlds provided supplies, moved a battle group to Lothario and attacked Niops, whilst the Canopians struck at Islington, Baccalieu and Ballalaba, Sean, as the new Caesar, had to admit that the game was up and flee the system with his troops.
I think one could call those few weeks interesting times. How the hell did we get here from there? The Marian Hegemony should be a memory right now, especially if that bastard Duncan Marik had gotten his may. Prick!
It was at this point, that Julia Carson walked out onto the deck, looking every part the leader of the Marian Military, a post she was appointed to by Sean, in order to free him up in dealing with the power vacuum that now existed at the top of Marian politics. “What the hell have you been doing Sean?!”
“It’s nice to see you too Carson. No standing on ceremony today?” Answered Sean, appearing nonplussed by his general’s temperament.
“I’ll stand you on your head, is what I’ll do you little idiot! Are you trying to provoke the Free Worlds into invading the Hegemony, or is this all some sort of sick joke? When I left for Niops in September, all of ORCA and half the damn Periphery were on side and willing to agree to our proposal. By the time I arrived there, Niops was on full alert for an invasion and word was that you and that idiot Duncan Marik were engaged in an interstellar pissing competition. I hate to tell you Sean, but you’re not going to win that game.”
Sean waited a moment before addressing his general’s concerns, letting her catch her breath and savouring the fact that this was the first time in their short stint together as leaders of the Hegemony where he actually knew more than she did.
“There is no pissing competition, Duncan pissed in his uncle’s shoes and the Janos didn’t like it.”
Carson’s eyes narrowed, not a good look, considering she looked like someone had spent the better part of ten years hitting her about the head and shoulders with a Mech. “Spill.”
Sean continued. “When you left, our proposal for a ceasefire, reparations to Lothia, Illyria and Circinus we could afford, a partial standing down of our military and release of certain mercs was accepted. Better yet, our broader proposal for our own inclusion into ORCA, along with as many other periphery realms as possible was working. If there is one thing the Periphery is never short of, it’s idealism. Dame Logan, Centrella, Calderon and surprisingly King Grimm, were all almost indecent in their rush to endorse the proposal and seem like the noblest supporter of peace and prosperity on the Rim. It was a little disturbing really.”
Carson relaxed a little, pulling a bench across and seating herself with about as much grace as a train wreck. “Go on.” She said.
“Problem was, no one wanted the Inner Sphere involved, especially Canopus. That’s one paranoid woman over there in the Magistracy. Anyhow, Dame Logan – now there is one hell of a good diplomat, hardcore idealist, but a brilliant diplomat – she decides that she will approach the Free Worlds about leaving Lothian space, but all the while praising their efforts and offering undying friendship. She can really turn on the charm when she wants, and it seemed to be working on Janos. Word was he was considering pulling out in exchange for little more than token gestures from us. Seems there is something really big going on in the League and Janos want no other major distractions at the moment. However, his dickhead nephew Duncan went a little screwy when he heard that his pet war might be called off and started issuing demands to the Marian Government in the clear, demands that would pretty much see us loose Niops and have left the Hegemony as little more than a protectorate of the League. I think I might have lost my head a little bit there.” Sean admitted a little guiltily.
“A little.” Julia snorted, “Your response was a mix between a Caesarean address, a two-year old’s temper tantrum, and an adolescent’s determination to start a fight.”
“It was a little rash, I agree, but it seems to have turned the trick.” Sean added
“How.”
“It seems as though Dame Logan took the whole series of events as her fault. She is desperate to see an expanded ORCA body encompassing most of the major Periphery states and is making damn well sure it happens. She negotiated, through ComStar’s good offices, the release by us of the remaining Niopian nobles to the League, a stupidly small reparation for the League from the Hegemony and a leash on that idiot Duncan Marik. Janos wanted out and Logan gave him enough to make it palatable to Parliament. I imagine its pissed that fool Duncan off though. We lost nothing we could not spare and we will soon be part of a Periphery wide alliance. What’s even more nuts, is that Canopus and Oberon were calling all sorts of fire down on the League for trying to restart the Reunification War. Just gotta love that Canopian fear of the League. Better yet, in her own gesture of peace and love, the Magestrix committed to withdrawing from Marian space, in the name of solidarity against League aggression, or some such nonsense.”
Carson fixed a long, hard stare at the young Caesar. “You are the luckiest idiot god ever put breath into.”
Sean nodded vigorously, “I know. Best of all, the state will recover and be stronger for our trials. With what we gained recently from our new friends; we can look to a very secure future.”
Carson leaned back. “What of Operation GALDIUS now? Your father was so close, and with what we have gained, added to the strength we will have following our recovery, we can still take what we want from ORCA.”
Sean paused, readying himself to give Carson an answer that she would not expect. “I think I’ve caught that idealism bug that’s going around. All I could think of for the last few months was recovering, then taking our new toys and teaching Lothia, Illyria, and Circinus one hell of a lesson, then hammering Canopus, just for shits and giggles. But after what Dame Logan has done to protect us as part of the Periphery, even after attacking her realm, and the actions of that maniac Kyalla Centrella with her unilateral withdrawal and support against the Free Worlds, I actually feel obliged to be nice to our neighbours.”
“Good.” Was all that Carson said in return.
“What do you mean good?” Sean asked, utterly confused.
“If you had tried to start another war with our neighbours, they would have united and destroyed us, quickly or slowly, but they would have made sure we were removed from the balance of power completely. In that case, I planned to remove you from power. Thank god you saw sense, as running this madhouse is not something I want to have to do any time soon.”
Sean was a little stunned by that.
Chapter 43
Sturmwelt Department Store
Silesia, Solaris City, Solaris VII
Rahne Shire, Isle of Skye
2 October, 3024
After hour meetings weren’t often a common thing for the CEO of Sturmwelt and Sons, GMBH, but Alois Sturmwelt had, on occasion found them necessary to manage his Skye-wide chain of well-known department stores. But this meeting, requested by the militia and the LCAF was unusual. Word was, war was again on the horizon, you could almost feel it with the drop in tourism to the Game World, and even the regular customers were a lot more furtive these days. One element in the equation for possible war was that fact that survival equipment and personal body armour was practically vanishing of Sturmwelt store shelves as fast as it could be put up. The other factor in favour of war breaking out sooner rather than later was the odds the Solaris bookkeepers were running. Over the last six months, the short odds had moved from September 3026 to March 3025.
One hopes the Marks won’t come here, between all the stables, and the two units on the world, plus the militia? It’ll be a damned bloodbath. The only military objective of any value is Solaris City. Is that why the militia wants to come and speak to me tonight?
Alois wasn’t a fool when it came to military matters, he hadn’t always been a CEO, having once served his nation as Hauptmann Alois Sturmwelt, 17th Skye Rangers infantry. He had seen war up close, and nasty, as it always was for the poor bloody infantry. Nasty was especially true that last fight desperate and brutal fight on Nestor. That Centauri Lancer Vulcan didn’t leave a lot of us alive, thought Alois, glancing furtively at his mynomer leg, or whole. He’d taken his medical retirement in stride and turned a pension and an acumen for business planning and management, with over twenty years of careful investment, and built it into something. Now the damn Mariks might blow it all to hell and gone.
He was especially proud of the flagship store here on Solaris, the vast area it covered and contained was a capitalist Mecca. From the well-lit aisles, to the clearly marked prices and cheerful staff, who were kept happy with good pay and benefits, al accentuated by specially commissioned artwork from rising young local artists. All that loving attention had made this store the jewel in the Sturmwelt crown. Alois thought about going down to the militia and offering his services, once it became clear that war was coming, planning to see if he could get volunteers from his staff to defend what was theirs. Solaris their home too, and they should get a chance to fight for it, if that’s what they want. Others he’d transferred deeper into Skye, especially those with families. He glanced at the picture of his sister, once an aerospace pilot with the 7th Donegal Guards, long dead in some skirmish with the Black Warriors some dozen years ago. I can’t ask people to lose their families, I’ve already lost mine. Alois thought mournfully as he looked over the store’s bright rows from his vantage point above the main floor in the conference room.
There was a knock at the door. It was Helga, his assistant; she’d stayed late to help get things set up for the meeting. She was a stocky woman, with almond eyes and jet-black hair shot through with grey, showing the effects of her forty years. Helga looked like somebody’s kindly aunt until one remembered that once upon a time, Helga had been a Warhammer pilot with the 23rd Arcturan Guards; and a holy terror up and down the Tamar front for many years. But that was twenty years ago now.
“Sir, the delegation from the militia and the LCAF is here, can I show them in?” she said through the closed door.
Alois smiled, “Yes Helga, do so, then get on home, have Marcus drive you, the streets aren’t very safe this time of night.” It was a sad fact of life on the Game World, that it attracted all kinds, including the worst criminals. Even Silesia wasn’t safe after the sun went down. I hate to think what the homicide rate’s going to be this year.
Alois shook his head to rid it of the cobwebs forming. It was time to see what he could do for his adopted homeworld, and by extension, the nation he loved. Though he was born of Skye, he was no supporter of Free Skye. He’d seen enough boys and girls come through his platoon, and later company, to know there were brave men and women to be found throughout the Commonwealth. And far too many of them died before I even knew their names. Though, to be honest, the rest of the old sweats and I didn’t bother to learn them till they’d seen some action with us, no sense in getting attached to someone who might not live very long.
More mournful thoughts were swept away as the door opened, disgorging a gaggle of men and women, into the room, six in all, dressed in LCAF walking out uniforms. The newcomers quickly set up a small holoprojector and the leader of the detail, a Kommandant from the looks of his epaulettes, motioned to Mr. Sturmwelt to sit down. Alois obliged him, returning to the seat he’d given up moments before.
The leader of the LCAF delegation stood, his dun skin and brown eyes suggesting Tamar origins, though the nameplate stated his name as “Gershwin”. “Herr Sturmwalt, I am Kommandant Gershwin, assistant deputy S-2 for Planning for the Thirty-Second Lyran Guards Regimental Combat Team, I am here, with my counterpart, Kommandant Hegstel from the Tenth Skye Rangers.” Gershwin motioned to a short, blonde woman, who nodded and smiled, “as well as representatives from the Solaris Militia, and a representative from the 65th Logistical Studies Group.” A giant ebon skinned man with wire frame spectacles and short hair nodded at that particular mention to Mr Sturmwelt, though his smile didn’t quite reach his eyes. Longherin or Loki, if I miss my guess. I’ve dealt with their type before. How that lot can try and maintain their secretive nature when they hulk around like this fellow, screaming their affiliation for all to see eludes me. Being that, this will be an in-Commonwealth job, so he’s most likely Lohengrin, the lesser of two evils.
Gershwin continued, oblivious to the thoughts racing through Alois’s mind. “Mister Sturmwelt, it was with interest that we noticed your application to local authorities to form a volunteer battalion from the staff of your store, in the event of an invasion. While we’re quite flattered, we have other ideas in mind for your store. Ideas that are going to, by law, require your permission.”
Alois sat up with a start, “If you were going to say no, you wouldn’t have come all this way. And you sure as hell wouldn’t have brought the holoprojector.”
Gershwin chuckled. “I was told you’re a shrewd man, and that you’d been an infantry officer with the 17th. So, let’s dispense with the pleasantries, Kommandant Sturmwelt. If war happens, and there’s no reason to suspect it won’t. There’s a good chance the Mariks will come for Solaris as they have always wished to do. The League’s been feeling a bit big of late, with their success on Cavanaugh and the near crisis they touched off in the Periphery, we suspect Solaris’s traditional neutrality will mean little when war comes.”
Alois nodded in understanding.
“Good, now, to operational matters; Solaris City, and its environs, are the only real military objectives on this world and form the centre of gravity for the entire system’s defence. Well, we intend to make the Mariks pay a very bloody coin for it when they come. We all intend to do our part and we know it’s going to be hard as hell on the people of the city. You’d be surprised though, how many, even in the BattleMech Stables, are agreeable to assist us in the defence of this world. In many cases, I would say it’s not out of love of the Commonwealth, but love of Solaris, or more importantly the profit they all make from Solaris under the jurisdiction of the Lyran Commonwealth. With these people’s assistance, Marik will find this world a most dangerous place.” Kommandant Gershwin smiled a rictus grin, a faraway look in his eyes.
“That’s all well and good, but how does my store come in?” Alois asked, a note of concern in his voice.
Gershwin motioned to the member of the delegation from the “65th Logistical Studies Group” who rose. “Call me Mr. Lorn, sir. I know that sounds odd, but you’re just going to have to bear with me on this. Sir, your store is a hell of a draw for everybody. It sells a lot of high-end items, and souvenirs…as well as a nicely stocked duty-free section, correct? Just the target for victorious Marik troops to loot the hell out of, especially when we also set up the combined forward logistics HQ within the store, right?”
Alois blanched… “Just what are you getting at?”
Mr Lorn smiled, and it was the scariest thing Sturmwelt had ever beheld, even scarier than that blood-red Vulcan he’d faced on Nestor. “You know how a mousetrap works? Bait it with something tasty, then drop the hammer, hard. Well, you’ve got the bait, made tastier by our presence. Me and my associates? We can provide the hammer…a whole lot of hammer. We just need your permission to be the cheese.”
It was then the holoprojector started, and it projected a 3-D projection of the building plans of the store…with the failure points highlighted….and understanding dawned on Alois. Well, it’ll be expensive, but how expensive will a Marik occupation be? Eh? Then the certificate, signed by the Wyatt Theatre Margrave appeared on the screen, promising full restitution for all damages caused. Just have to get the artwork out.
Alois leaned back and smiled. “What do you need from me, mein damen en herren?”
