I was originally going to post this in the Tribble thread for someone else to run with, but I had a long drive, voice to text, and some ideas about how the first few hours would go.
Continuation or prompt updating is not guaranteed or necessarily likely, sorry. This may already be the longest continuous piece of fiction I've written, unless you count D&D campaign material.
Sian, 5 January 3049
Palace of the Celestial Wisdom
The first thing I noticed was the smell. A faint, vaguely perfume sandalwood's type scent. Honey Rosewood incense, my mind supplied, a favorite for keeping this wing of the palace pleasantly fragrant. That did not make any sense, and as I opened my eyes, things got even stranger. Instead of being at home in a dim room with my alarm clock, I found myself in a very large, ornate room decorated in a style that I would call Japanese or Chinese more than anything else, like a modernized version of the Korean & Chinese historical dramas I’ve seen a few of. I moved to get out of bed, and felt just a little bit off, like my body wasn’t right, but it passed instantly.
I did not feel the need for glasses, and I found that I was wearing silk pajamas instead of my usual boxer briefs. Proceeding to the bathroom, out of habit somehow, I was surprised to find everything spotless, large, and gold plated. One part of my mind said that Donald Trump would approve, and the other part said that it was only fitting for the Palace of the Celestial Wisdom.
Then I looked in the mirror, instead of my face, I saw an Asian kid with reddish-black hair staring back at me. Okay, not a kid, maybe a teenager close to 20? There’s some weird genetics there with a naturally red-headed Asian. [note: Romano described as having red hair somewhere.]
At this point, I think to myself that either this is a really freaky dream, or I just entered a science fiction story or something. There are fancy flush toilets, which I figure out how to operate without too much difficulty, and there are electric lights, so at least it's not Game of Thrones or someplace equally terrible and primitive. And I'm apparently fabulously rich, which usually translates to powerful.
Returning from the bathroom, I find two servants bowing towards me and presenting a couple of choices of clothing for the day. They don't make eye contact or greet me by name, and I'm quick enough on the uptake to realize that this culture is going to be more like what I've seen in some Asian shows. If I'm too familiar with the help, it'll be out of place, and if I'm rich and in a palace, then there's probably Intrigue, backstabbing, and power games instead of sanity. Simply blurting out that I am from somewhere else might get me killed or in serious trouble.
I take another tack, selecting the deep blue colored robes with gold threads embroidering fancy astrological symbols. It’s not my style, but bright red isn’t what I want to wear today. The servants move to help me put it on, so I mostly just hold still and make my best guess at where to move, although it seems like I've inherited some muscle memory from this body because it doesn't feel unnatural.
So step one, figure out where I am and what the situation is, then step two is to figure out if it's someplace I recognize and what I need to do.
As the servants depart, I call out “Send in my breakfast and a summary of my schedule today.”
Another servant enters almost instantly afterwards, this one with a taller hat. “Your highness,” Seneschal Hong greets me (how do I know that?), “Today is Saturday, so your schedule is mostly un-committed. The daily intelligence briefing is at 9:30 if you wish to attend, and you had mentioned planning an excursion to the lake to drop in on some members of the nobility who planning on having a birthday party. Your sister Kali’s jumpship arrived at the nadir point last night, and so she will return from her trip to Highspire five days from now.”
My blood runs cold.
I've been a BattleTech fan for a long time, and read a number of self insert type stories, but if I'm in one it's on super hard mode. I'm the heir to the throne of the weakest of the successor houses, my sister is a murderous lunatic, and my mother is not much better. The Capellan Confederation is a ruinously oppressive nation that's always teetered on the brink of destruction, being permanently poverty-stricken and with very limited social mobility and property rights keeping it so. Were I somewhere else it, was one of the two Great Houses of Battletech that I would have no problem condemning to invasion, destruction, and reconstruction in the name of a brighter future for Humanity. As Sun- Tzu Liao, I don't have that choice. Crap, crap, crap, crap, crap. Gold plated crap. And that’s when I realize that I’ve had the entire conversation in Mandarin Chinese. I sure hope I don’t inherit Sun-Tzu’s character flaws, although at least he’s better than many of the other alternatives in the CC.
It’s time to learn more, and leverage what I've got.
“Bring me the updated texts to go with that intelligence briefing, as well as a summary of military production figures for the last year. Also, bring me the scoring information from my last set of ‘Mech-piloting and martial arts skill assessments.” A thought enters my head, and I realized that at least I've got the instincts and some information built-in. “The un-doctored scores, not the ones that were released for public consumption.”
No need to delude myself… but as a high-ranking noble in this society, explaining why I want something, or justifying my actions, is something to avoid. I’ll have to change how I talk to people, and hopefully Real Sun-Tzu’s instincts will help.
Breakfast arrives, and with it the documents. It is 3049, and the Clans are coming. The Clans are coming, and I'm in the weakest of the Successor States and the one least likely to be able to do anything about it. Left alone, Sun-Tzu will strategically make himself an object of mockery on Outreach, will alienate most of his potential allies, blow up his chances with Isis Marik and a greater alliance, and will generally not do anything to contribute to the betterment of humanity up until the point when the Word Of Blake throws a snit fit and tries to blow everybody up.
My first thoughts are that I need to make allies. To make allies, I’ll need to have reasons to have cover for my strange behaviors, as Kali might jump on things, and Mom's not much better. Trying to make friends with the Allard-Liao house, the Steiner-Davions, etc. we'll go over about as well as a Firestarter at an ice carving competition. I need to gain personal capabilities, personal power, and position myself to make long-term differences in the Inner Sphere as a whole.
Coupled with that, as a human being, I have a duty to try to improve things in the Capellan Confederation also. Social reform is a must, but I know that once you start opening up a society and adding freedom, it’s very easy for the changes to spin out of control and destroy the government. I can’t risk being a Gorbachev.
Kali has to go, or at least be contained. I don’t think she ever backstabbed Sun-Tzu, but she’s not someone I want to be associated with in the long term. She’s a useful threat or deterrent, but she’s a sword with no hilt. Romano has to be managed, and I have to not alienate Tsen Shang, for although part of me still cares for him, I know that he is ultimately loyal to mad mother. I guess it's like the Targaryens, when a Liao is born a coin is flipped, and there's a chance that they'll be mad. Here's hoping that I can be one of the sane and genius coin flips, instead of following in the footsteps of my grandfather or mother.
I can only change a few things at a time, and any radical shift in personality would be a problem. I think back to what I know, and her Celestial Wisdom will probably believe me if I say that I've had a dream that war is coming, and that I want to prepare. I'll throw out a few verifiable names that I dreamt of: Wolves, Jaguars, Falcons, Bears, and a host of other animals. It's a long game, in that verification won’t come for a long time, but when it does, it’ll earn me a lot of credit as a gifted visionary whose strange ideas can be trusted.
I review the scores, and it appears the Sunny-boy has been a lax student. Middling at best as a MechWarrior, excellent accuracy with small arms, but only fair at unarmed combat. Feeling the lack of muscle mass in his/my arms, I’m not surprised at that. If I am to gain the respect of my peers in Outreach in a year, I'll have to be able to keep up with them. I know with the long fingernails my father sports, the ideal is apparently the noble who never has to lift a hand personally. I will need to forge a new image as some sort of Warrior-Prince hero-leader with some personal glory and fame. The personal capita will help me be more respected and gain the personal loyalty of some followers I can trust. Driving a ‘Mech sounds fun, but I’m not pleased at the idea of actually going into battle – but I will have to.
The Capellan military is weak as well. Anything we can do to get a tech boost would be helpful. I know of two parties that are currently sitting on freezer production tech. I don't expect, and can't expect help from NAIS, not unless I can get Hanse in a room by himself with me for 30 minutes. Given the history of Operation Doppelganger, the chances of that are vanishingly small. My other choice is on Outreach. Comstar reads the mail, and I don't have time to travel there personally. After finishing meeting, I summon the Seneschal again.
Naming from memory one of the officers of the Red Lancers, who should be on duty, I asked for him to be summoned and comment that my schedule is about to be rearranged to favor more personal training for me. I also tell Hong that I will be sending a message offworld to request a trainer and perhaps technical assistance from Wolf's Dragoons, and for him to bring me anyone who can help encrypt the message for the Dragoons to read. Do I risk mentioning terms that they’d recognize as Clan? I could really use a Goliath Scorpion or Nova Cat for their breadth of vision or historical knowledge, but I have no idea if the Dragoons have any septuagenarian abtakha in their ranks.
When the Captain on duty arrives, he greets me with a low bow, as befits my station. “I had a dream last night that a great war is coming to the Inner Sphere, one even larger than the betrayal 20 years ago. For the good of our house, our people, and the Capellan nation, I must be better than what is reflected in these scores,” waving the papers with the accurate scores in my hand. “If I am to eventually lead our forces in combat, I must be strong and among the best. Take time to think who can best be assigned to me for 2 hours a day of personal training for my body and my combat skills, and then for another 3 hours a day of MechWarrior training. I don't want a noble of good family who is well spoken and flatters me. I want someone of lower station who can communicate well and is not afraid to speak the truth if it will help me grow better. Also, forward me a copy of your training materials maneuvering at the lance, company, and battalion levels. I will be deeply insulted if this is not taken seriously, and if I am assigned someone who is safe but incompetent.”
ROB only knows if I’ll actually get someone good out of this. If the Red Lancers have a veteran NCO who is in bad odor politically, they might send him to me to get him killed or fired.
I am going to have a lot of sweaty, hard days ahead of me training and stuffing my brain full of things while also trying to manage my court appearances, build a coterie of followers who aren’t stupid, fools, or loyal to my mother first, and plotting some sort of political realignment.