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There were, on reflection, a whole ****** [/I]of worse positions I could be in right now.
Considering that I now knew interuniversal travel to what I thought were fictional universes was possible (or at least ‘forking’ a new instance of me into one, was possible), I knew I could have ended up somewhere much,
much worse.
I mean there were also
better places I could end up. The Cultureverse for example (assuming I dropped into said Culture and not the Affront or something) would have been just about perfect really. But I would have also happily settled for most flavors of Star Trek....
But there were also far
far more (supposedly) fictional places I could have ended up that made me go into a cold sweat just
thinking about it. I mean, at least in my current position in Battletech I had every reason to be hopeful for the future and
my future.
If I had, say, ended up in Westeros? Yeah, even if I wasn’t killed on the spot as a witch or demon or something, the best I could hope for would be to eek out a miserable stagnant medieval existence while trying to figure out a way to get the ****** out the way of the Ice Zombie apocalypse, gigantic civil war and all the other fun stuff that might be coming. And even
that was one of the
happier possibilities; if I had been thrown into say Warhammer 40K?
On balance, the fact that I was in a reality where my soul was
not going to be ripped out of my body by some chaos sorcerer, bound into some horrifying nightmare of flesh and chained to Abaddon the Despoilers throne and ‘encouraged’ to tell him everything I knew about Warhammer 40K?
Yeah, ‘could be worse’ indeed.
Ergo, contextually I tried to tell myself ‘Hashtag; this is not a big deal’ on one hand (mental note, invent Twitter) … but on the other; I
wasn’t in 40K and this
was a fragging huge deal here and now.
The vehicles coming in were an eclectic mixture of IFVs holding the Dragoons senior officers followed by dozens of large AFFS busses borrowed for this trip with the main body of soldiers, ancillary support staff and hangers on. Only the IFVs and an honor guard of four Dragoon Mechs in the vanguard were even armed; this was
not a force coming with its blood up.
Indeed, if anything, it was exactly the opposite.
Just about the entire force of the Dragoons minus the crews on their distant Jumpships, a skeleton crew on board the
Hephaestus and those too sick to leave the hospital were here now. Unarmed and in dress uniforms they were not
quite putting themselves collectively at our mercy, but it was near enough to make little difference. As much as yesterday Ardan and I had formally entered their part of the base under the technically unofficial yet
very real rules of safe conduct, so too were the Dragoons coming to us under them now - and trusting us to honor them. Which silently spoke to the groundwork Hanse and his people had put in place with the Dragoons over the last six months - especially compared and contrasted with the Combine.
Whom I’m sure the Dragoons wouldn’t trust right now if they claimed oxygen was safe to breathe...“Do you think he figured out yet that we grabbed those Omni’s on Barlow's End deliberately?” I muttered aside to Ardan from the second story window looking out over the makeshift parking area as the hoard of APCs and trucks neatly formed into lines and started to unload a couple of thousand people, my attention drawn to the
Bandits in the lead. Hidden in plain sight - how the
****** had the Inner Sphere’s intelligence people never caught onto that? Even if you credited the Dragoons recovering every single one of the damn things they ever lost (which was
bullshit of the first order)
that very policy should have made every intel agency very interested in grabbing one to find out
why. Or so you’d think anyway.
“Quite probably but, uh, let's
not remind him?” Ardan suggested back in a sotto voice as Dragoons started to make their way inside the ground floor of the massive warehouse. Sortek was in a decent mood. Calm and prepared for this next step, but he had not been exactly happy with my liberties around Natasha Kerensky. Which wasn’t to say he was
unhappy with me either.
Simply put he wasn’t exactly convinced that pointing Natasha Kerensky at Vesar Kristofur (or Kristopher Kelly or whatever he called himself these days, if he was even still alive) was going to end well. Especially with LIC and MIIO both trying to find him and capture him
alive, dragging him to a nice damp cellar filled with their best interrogators to drain the former ROM head dry of everything he knew…
But he also admitted that putting Wolfnet into play who had a lot of ears to the ground in less reputable parts of the galaxy, might lead us to him.
Worst case, Kerensky killed him and she owed us one. Not an
ideal outcome but not a
bad one per se. Every dead hardcore toaster worshiper was a good one in my book.
Mostly though, my failure in this space had convinced me to just ****** leave the PSYOPs to the spies.
Presently, Ardan started for the rooms exit and I followed him out and through the upper story racks of cargo pallets and containers. We reached a metal staircase and descended down the side of the warhouse into the large section the Dragoons were pouring into. This middle chunk of the main floor of the massive structure was both empty and open, just a large concrete floor ideal for crowding everyone in together behind a secure perimeter with massive sectional walls to the left and right closing off the rest of the warhouse. Jamie Wolf had requested permission for the entire Dragoons to present themselves and make their decisions known and Ardan saw this as a good thing. It was very much tradition for the bigger and more professional Merc units to do have a ‘passing out’ parade like this for their new employer after all. Through most of the day the Dragoons sub-units had gathered in offices and common areas with company, battalion and then regimental discussions as they seemed to all come to a consensus … and I could only hope said consensus was the right one.
The contingency plans for the Dragoons saying ‘thanks no thanks, we’re going back to the Kerensky Cluster’ were … unpleasant. To put it mildly. But then, Wolf putting the entire Dragoons force essentially at our Mercy like this was a very good sign the Rabid Foxes would not be forced to live up to their reputation tonight.
As I followed Ardan down the metal stairway towards the warehouse floor, I couldn’t help but admire how quickly the Dragoons were assembling into formation. And I meant that
literally; this wasn’t just a crowd standing around across the wide open area. Discrete groups of men and women were forming up into what I recognized as company sized units and they in turn were grouping into battalions and then larger formations that stretched along the width of the warhouse. Each headed by one of the Regimental Command Companies in the case of the line units and grouped together logically in the case of their supporting units like their training command or starship crews. The actual spacings in the groups were confusing for a moment in their randomness until it hit me like a bucket of ice water that the spacing was in fact, perfect. The empty spots were representing Dragoons who were no longer here to stand with their comrades, either dead or badly wounded. And quite a few of those who
were here were clearly injured with bandages, casts, ‘moon boots’ and other advanced looking medical devices.
Yet, despite their battering; here they stood.
It was a powerful statement in of itself as we reached the warehouse floor, then we stepped up onto a makeshift sort of stage against the opposite wall from the entrance as the last of the Dragoons came through it; the senior officers themselves with the perimeter security teams closing the loading dock doors behind them.
Jamie Wolf and Natasha Kerensky were in the lead - the later for once in a dress uniform. Following them were the other four regimental commanders followed along with Major Blake from Wolfnet and the other independent and support unit commanders. Also mixed in wearing strikingly different uniforms were Cranston Snord and his daughter and as Jamie advanced past every line, every Dragoon in said line snapped to attention. As they passed the front rank, most of the officers joined their units while Jamie, Natasha and the Snords came up onto the stage, Jamie in turn stepping forward to face Ardan.
“Colonel Sortek, Mister Smith” Jamie nodded to both of us as he stepped up, his tone softly calm and his bearing professional, giving no hint about how his world had turned upside down in the last day and a bit. And I might be imagining things but I
think his gaze focused on me for a heartbeat longer this time (and I wonder what Kerensky had told him?) before he shook Ardans offered hand then gestured to his side. “I believe you know Colonel Snord?”
Clearly, we weren’t even
pretending that Snord wasn’t still taking orders from Jamie anymore.
“Of course” Ardan nodded and shook his offered hand. “We met on Heavy Guards trip back from Helm. I apologize I have not had the time to visit Clinton as yet, but I
do plan to try the next time I’m in the Lyran Commonwealth.”
“I’ll hold you to that, we have plans for a whole new wing on 20th and 21st century popular culture what with all the music and media recovered from Hoff spiking interest” he boasted with a smile before he seemed to remember why they were here with a glance across at Jamie - whose expression was, if anything, faintly amused. “
But” he added quickly, “we can discuss that later - a pleasure to meet you too Mister Smith” he nodded at me and I nodded back then hesitated as my gaze shifted past him to the redhead standing behind him.
Natasha was also studying me and I met her piercing gaze square on before I inclined my head slightly at her … and she returned the gesture. Which was good enough for now as I moved my attention back to Wolf.
“So, to continue our discussion Colonel. When we left I had asked you - and more broadly, the Dragoons, a question” Ardan started the conversation where we had left off, the thick concrete walls doing an excellent job of containing his voice and carrying it across the room.
“And I - and the Dragoons - will give you an answer” Jamie said with a nod before he took a breath and turned to face his people, his voice suddenly ramping up powerfully. “I am the Oathmaster. Trothkin new and old, Clan and Spheroid …” he paused for a second, drew a breath, “...
Dragoons” he finished and there was
emotion in that word. A raw sense of inclusion that
shivered through the room and I guessed it’s pointed use meant that everyone had been brought into the secret, the issues worked through … and the Dragoons
still stood as one.
Peer pressure was a hell of a thing - but that kind of loyalty was probably not surprising given the crucible of things like Misery. At least with good leadership anyway and happily it seemed if the Dragoons senior officers were in unity. And in cases like this, Clan rules actually acted as a break on dissension. If they did
not want to play by Clan rules and wished to attempt a trial of refusal at odds of a thousand to one against or something….
“All we be bound by this conclave until they are dust and memories and beyond that until the end of all that is!”
“
Seyla!” the entire crowd answered.
I didn’t join them however and following my lead, neither did Ardan. We stood as witnesses to this pseudo Clan-Council, not part of it.
Jamie nodded then stepped to the edge of the stage and lightly jumped down to the floor, slowly pacing left to the far ranks, then back all the way to the right. Finally, he nodded.
“At ease” he ordered and with an impressive
crack policed combat boots were spread and stomped into the ground as the Dragons relaxed their postures … slightly.
“We have come a long way since we were founded all those decades ago. Some have walked this road with me from the beginning” he nodded at Blake as he slowly walked back to the middle of the formation, his gaze locking with his senior officers one after the other. “Others have stood with us but a short time but are no less part of us” he added with a nod at Coshasa DuKirk who returned his nod with a curt but proud one of her own. “And others … have been lost along the way” he finished, glancing somberly at the empty slots before turning back towards us, his gaze seeming to lock with Natasha for a moment, emotions flashing between them I couldn’t decipher but guessed were about the man they had both loved who had been ripped from them.
One as a brother. One as a lover. And I didn’t want to think what my little grenade lob this afternoon had done there.
“I would nonetheless trust
every person in this room...” Jamie continued, climbing back up to the stage and turning to face the Dragoons, the power of his voice and bearing almost captivating as he seemed to grow in stature before me, “...
with my life” he said unequivocally. “And I have asked you to trust me with your lives in turn, trust you have given me” he continued, pausing for a moment before with a deep breath, he raised his chin unflinchingly. “And I have
failed that trust.”
The Iron Discipline of the Dragoons
cracked at that with an immediate rumble and shifting in the ranks and highly negative sounding muttering and objections coming from the group - including his senior officers I noted - but Jamie held up a hand and the interjections stilled, an edge coming into his voice.
“I have failed because I was given orders to
lead you” he said, turning his head to seemingly take in every person in the formation, unflinchingly. “Orders to protect the Inner Sphere against the false righteousness of the Crusaders. To be a shield against their long held desire to rampage across known space and destroy anything and everything that will not bend to their twisted vision of the future of humanity. To hold to the Great Fathers
true vision of
living what he wished his descendants to see once more. To find and accept the value of what our ancestors left behind. To understand that it must be protected from those who would seek to destroy it ... even if that threat would be found in those we once called Trothkin. And what...” he added, raising his arms up at his side as if taking in all the mass of people in front of him and inviting them to answer his coming question. “What
have I done to accomplish this?” he asked.
He let his gaze sweep across his senior officers and then the ranks of battalions behind them to the very back of the formation, inviting someone -anyone- to speak up.
No-one did.
“I have done
nothing” Jamie finally answered almost harshly.
No shit sherlock I didn’t say - but I had
some self control and didn’t need to Ardans
look from the side telling me to keep my mouth shut thank you very much!
“There was always another battle to fight and no time to think about such things. And so I
failed you. I
failed my Khan and worst of all I have
failed the people of the Inner Sphere I was charged to defend” he finished, seemingly accepting said failures as he laid them out … before he seemed to grow almost half a meter in a moment. His eyes blazing as his voice cracked.
“
But I will fail no more!” “SEYLA!” was the shout - delivered in a very ‘SIR YES SIR!’ sort of way.
“On Misery” Jamie continued after the thunder faded, his showing a sort of distant pain, “I lost a friend. A good friend and a good man. I lost him because he saw his duty and
refused to shy away from it. No matter how bitter the cost to him; he saw it through to to the end. And in my rage against House Kurita, I was fully prepared to throw all of us at the Combine and not stop until either they broke or we did - and in so doing I would have failed you all once again by not doing
my duty. Accordingly…” he turned to face Ardan and straightened up. “Colonel Sortek; the Dragoons have discussed your question. And with unanimous agreement … we stand
with the Inner Sphere against any Crusader invasion and stand ready to begin preparations to defend against one.”
“
Seyla” the entire warehouse echoed -
this time in the somber way I had expected - and I had to fight the urge to sigh in relief. Okay, one problem solved, now the other minor issue…
“You would be willing to wave a request for a front line deployment against the Draconis Combine?” Ardan asked him, the sheer gravity in his tone enough to shift the orbit of Robinson as I tried not to hold my breath as Jamie seemed to struggle for a second before exhaling and meeting Ardans gaze.
“...Yes Colonel. As of this moment I, on behalf of the Wolf’s Dragoons …
withdraw that request” Jamie agreed, clearly pained by the concession yet determined to accept the bitter pill and move on.
There was only a muted reaction from the Dragoons at Wolfs request. Flashes of resigned acceptance and melancholy across their faces while others glanced away rather than the glares and explosion of protests I had expected … and no surprise. Oh the disappointment seemed universal … yet it was muted. And it occurred to me that perhaps getting everyone on board with
this decision had taken up far more of yesterday than the whole Clan thing.
If so, credit to Jamie and his officers then for moving everyone past the idea that for the Dragoons to win, the Combine had to die.
So, that was good.
Now, we just had to
reverse that decision!
“A humbling gesture Colonel” Sortek said solemnly … before offering a slightly wry, almost apologetic look. “But that will not be necessary.”
Wolf frowned and started to open his mouth, but Ardan held up a hand to hold his objections as he continued to speak calmly, but with a sheer
authority in his tone. It was a subtle shift but I thought of it as his ‘Hanse’ tone, when he seemed to be speaking on behalf of Prince Davion more than himself...
“Yesterday Colonel, you asked if we trusted you and the Dragoons to follow orders” Ardan reminded him in a deadly serious tone and I killed the urge to impulse to smirk, recalling vividly that
my original reaction to that question from Jamie had all of this into motion. “However, it would be more accurate to say that the concerns of the Prince and Archon were that
if we granted your request for a front line posting, that you and your Dragoons would see such a deployment as an open invitation to declare a private war against the Combine. A war that you would hold as between only yourself and the Combine and that the worlds of the Federated Suns would simply be the ground you stood upon to
fight, not the ground you stood upon to
defend.”
The Dragoons CO remained stoically professional in the face of Ardans mild accusations … but my eyes caught the subtle looks passing between the senior officers down below.
Perhaps I was projecting a bit here, but given that it was, you know,
exactly what they ****** did in the original timeline...even if in the end it worked out neatly to House Davions advantage.
“Given what they cost you, your willingness to step back from your fight with the Combine is a powerful gesture Colonel and goes a long way to reassure me that my concerns were misplaced. So if you tell me here and now that you will stand
with us against the Combine, not simply alongside us? That you will accept reinforcements if we send them and call for them if you need them, not declaring your fights private circles of equals? Or, perhaps to put it a different way …
can you accept that the Federated Suns has a very long going Trial of Grievance against the Draconis Combine that you are welcome to bid yourself into? While keeping in mind that there
is a future beyond this fight we need to look towards?”
Jamie seemed to subtly straighten at that half dozen inches at that, as if a terrible weight had just been lifted from his shoulders, a faint smile coming on his face and he turned to look slowly across his people - and there was an electricity in the air as he took them in, finishing with Natasha who nodded eagerly (but then that was probably her default expression when it came down to mass carnage and destruction in the air) before facing Ardan again.
“Aff, we do accept. With gratitude and my promise that your trust will not be misplaced.’
Somewhere, back on New Avalon, I could feel Hanse Davion smiling coldly before, for no apparent reason anyone around him understood, doing a ‘Just as planned’ pose...Ardan nodded at that in a way that was almost a shallow bow. “Seyla.”
“Seyla” Wolf nodded back.
“SEYLA!” the rest of the Dragoons barked,
loudly. Looking all too eager, their gazes filled with vicious, determined
joy as best I could put it that suggested any Kuritan Mechwarrior who went up against them was
really going to be in for it.
Ardan then turned to me and nodded and I nodded back, strolling forward, my polished bots
clicking against the stage in a way that echoed through the silent warehouse and drew attention like a magnet.
I couldn’t help but be highly amused at the fact that Jamie, Kerensky and indeed the other senior officers down on the main floor all looked suddenly very much on alert at my moving forward.
Amusing that I
have a reputation that makes these
people wary.“Colonel Wolf” I nodded at him and he nodded back, again with that slightly on-guard edge. “Your estimates from yesterday as I recall, presuming we can expedite some shipments for you, were that the Dragoons would be able to field roughly fifty percent of your five regiments strength in about a month? With Zeta and the Home Guard units held back to defend your dependents as you rebuild? And roughly one regiments worth of combat ready Mechwarriors dispossessed?”
“Correct” he nodded very slightly at me, clearly waiting for the shoe to drop. And to be fair there
was a shoe we were dropping … it was just a
good one this time. “We will deploy all five line Regiments to forward planets currently undefended, moving some personnel around to put them at roughly fifty percent strength each.”
Ah,
there’s that ****** Clanner pride. Should we deploy fewer units at greater strength by transferring people around and temporarily disbanding some? Or perhaps deploy half strength units alongside AFFC or allied units as a supporting force for
them?Nah!
Instead, let’s deploy each unit alone to
five worlds at
fifty percent strength and hope the Combine is
too ****** stupid to simply concentrate and wipe us out in detail!
Gah.
Clanners.Fortunately, Hanse had a plan (cue Cylons theme) that would help deal with that small problem
and several others at the same time (big ****** surprise). Seriously, some days I think that man came up with three new ways to brush his teeth every morning, each more cunning than the last...
“A tall order, half a Regiment per world to hold the line” I said with a slight tilt of my head that got no response, just a stoic look of agreement and I shrugged. “But perhaps, we can shift those odds slightly” I suggested, pulling a radio out of my pocket and lifting it to my face as I turned back to face the Northern wall of the warhouse. “This is Smith, hit it.”
There was a jolt and then a low metal rumbling, the ‘wall’ started to fold open from the middle to show the dark interior of the warehouse beyond and there was a loud gasp from the entire crowd as it revealed the terrible grinning face of an
Atlas.Not gonna lie, looking up at an Atlas grinning down at you like this … it was one of the most intimidating things I had ever seen in my life. General Kerensky himself had set down the design specs to make sure it intimidating and
holy shit had he succeeded.
Although I’d be willing to bet for
these people, it was less the Assault Mech itself and more the fact that it was painted in the deep black with red highlights and makings of Wolf’s Dragoons. Well that and the obvious upgrades, what with the
four forward firing lasers (not an uncommon mod even if they couldn’t see right now the two aft guns were actually still in place) and the frigen
Gauss Rifle in place of the Chemjet...
And the line of AS7-FC-X’s were not alone either.
Awesomes made at
least thirty percent more awesome, which was about as close to perfection you could get this side of a
Hellstar. An AWS-9Q by any other name still smelled
awesome as did its brother variants behind it, no matter what the AFFS and LCAF wanted to call it.
Thugs carrying a secondary laser battery to replace the oversinked heat sinks that had been stripped out for use in some of the other Mechs around them, giving them a wickedly increased close range punch.
Eight upgraded
Cyclops's with their impressive command and control gear fully operational ready for use by Dragoon commanders, with a dozen massive
Thunder Hawks in front. And along the far wall, the STK-3F
Stalkers were entirely stock; there was just not enough extra heat sinks to retrofit them. Even after taking every free floating one we had from Helm, stripping units like the Thugs down of a few and soaking up the first few months of production from Defiance?
We just didn’t have
enough yet, which was a pity …
and ultimately,
that was also the reason the Dragoons were being given all these Battlemechs here and now. A bit over a third of Hanse Davions haul from the Helm cache.
Hanse had, predictably, refused to be sucked down into the ‘shiny new toy’ syndrome and instead carefully started to examine the logistical questions about exactly
what he was going to do with his share of the loot after taking out the tech samples for NAIS … and had quickly determined he had quite a few issues to sort through.
First, the AFFS would have to find techs to be taken off the line, given access to the technology they were now going to have to maintain and find a way to train them up with what maintenance materials they had from Helm and the Helm core. That was not something that would be quick and easy. The only people in the Federated Suns who were honestly qualified to handle this technology as qualified techs were the engineers at the NAIS and, suffice to say, it was a nonstarter to even
think about moving them into a tech role for line AFFS units.
Second, a lot of these weapons systems, especially the extended range weapons like Gauss rifles and advanced electronic warfare technology required extensive retraining for Mechwarriors using it if they were going to use it at all effectively.
And third, while Katrina was reforming the 4th as a political move as much as a military one and Hanse had plenty of trusted units people he could share his gear with, it was
still going to be a tricky question of how exactly he best could maximize its potential and not waste it. The AFFS by the original timeline had
stomped the Confederation like a
Dire Wolf kicking around a first-generation
Mackie. Adding a few regiments of Assault Mechs, even advanced technology ones, wouldn’t really change the strategic outcome there terribly much. Such mechs, limited in number but incredibly powerful, would
best be deployed where you would get the maximum possible bang for the buck in the right concentration.
So, where was that?
Why, it was with the
one force in the Inner Sphere that had the available spare Mechwarriors who were trained on using such technology of course! The
one force who had techs trained and equipped to maintain them - and the
only force on his strategic radar that instead of
doing the curb stomping, would be on the receiving end of the best attempt of his enemies to
deliver one and thus could badly use a qualitative edge to even the odds.
This has been a Hanse Davion. ‘Just as Planned ™’ presentation in Widescreen Stereo. “As I said earlier Colonel” Ardan finally spoke up, drawing all attention back to him. “We stand
alongside each other. And thus
shall we stand … “he trailed off with a significant look at Wolf as he extended his hand to him, who gave a faint smile before taking it in a firm clasp.
“...until we all shall fall” Wolf finished the Clan affirmation.
“Seyla!”This time, I couldn’t help but join in as Ardan did as well.
Mental note, buy mouthwash from the base PX tomorrow...