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BattleTech Player Boards => Fan Fiction => Topic started by: alkemita on 27 December 2017, 17:53:18

Title: A Reckoning
Post by: alkemita on 27 December 2017, 17:53:18

Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year to all.

It has literally been years since I posted anything here, mainly thanks to Real Life. In the intervening time, I've slowly sketched out a few stories. This one showed the most promise, and so I have decided to release it into the wild to see if it survives.

Full disclosure - a large portion of the first installment is taken straight from Michael Stackpole's Lethal Heritage

A final note before the story begins. I'm doing this to try to improve as a writer, so please give me some feedback. If you think my writing sucks, my ego can take it, but please do me a favour and tell me why it sucks so I can try to do better next time.

And so, I give you:

A Reckoning

An Alternate Tale of the BattleTech Universe

Outreach
Tikonov Free Republic
16 August 3030

Natasha Kerensky entered Colonel Jamie Wolf’s office as only she could - without knocking or hesitation, and with only slightly less force than she would have used had she been taking an objective in her iconic black Warhammer. Marching right up to the Colonel’s desk, she held the yellow sheet of paper out for his inspection, but he looked straight through it and her. Seated behind a cluttered desk, he leaned back in his chair and pressed his hands together, fingertip to fingertip. Only the rise and fall of his chest told her he was alive.

   “It’s here,” she told him, slapping the paper down on top of the report Wolf had been working on. “The Tikonov Free Republic” - Jaime could almost hear the sarcastic quotation marks around the name of that new-born state - “has, after only a bit of strong-arming by the next First Lord, the war-god Hanse Davion, coughed up free and clear title to Outreach.”

The news brought animation back to Wolf’s face. Though a small man, he gave off an aura of strength and his presence was commanding. Still, long years of almost constant warfare had taken their toll. His once-black hair was shot through with white, while the lines around his eyes and creasing his forehead showed how heavy had been the weight of his burdens. The slump in his shoulders told that he knew more difficulties were in the offing, but the glint in his grey eyes left no doubt that he would face what he must.

He gave the Black Widow as smile. “Yes, Natasha. Thank you. This is welcome news indeed.”

Kerensky glanced out of the arched window near Wolf’s desk. “I thought we’d have more trouble getting this world for our home. I assumed Davion would be determined to keep it once he heard we wanted it.”

Wolf shrugged. “He knows Outreach was once the Warrior World. He knows the SLDF Martial Olympics were held here and that not quite all of the useful equipment has been stripped from it in the three centuries since the Exodus.”

The dying sun burned highlights into Kerensky’s hair as she turned to face him. “Do you think he knows exactly how much is left? He’ll have asked Quintus Allard to send some of his damnable operatives here to see what we would be getting.”

The leader of Wolf’s Dragoons smiled like a man with a secret. “Hanse has lived up to his nickname of ‘the Fox’ quite admirably on this one. Quintus Allard asked us to complete a technological survey because he claimed he couldn’t spare an agent for Outreach at this time, but Snord’s Irregulars have already been and gone. Hanse must certainly expect that we’ve withheld some information, but I don’t think it matters to him. He’s happy to have us here to prevent local rebellions or a strike from the Free Worlds League. The report we sent back to Allard should be enough to quiet any complaints that we were handed a treasure trove of lostech.”

The use of the idiom for valuable technology lost after the fall of the Star League brought a brief smile to Kerensky’s full lips , but her tone was worried. “Is our own survey complete yet? Is there enough equipment here for our needs?”

Wolf shook his head and steepled his fingers again. “It looks as though things like computers and obvious manufacturing resources were carried off long ago, but I don’t think anyone out there even guesses at the vast complex of stuff under the surface here. We’ve got the facilities we need to repair and manufacture BattleMechs. But whether it’s enough to complete our mission is hard to say.”

She groaned and thumped a convenient wall with the side of her fist. “****** the mission! We’ve done what they wanted. Let’s get ourselves healthy, get our machines at a hundred and ten percent, and then go kick some ass! Preferably Marik or Kurita, but I’m not picky.”

The Widow’s outburst made Wolf smile in spite of himself. “Natasha,” he said quietly, “I’d like nothing better, but you know I can’t agree to that. You also know that the others won’t be able to stop them. We’ve been entrusted with a mission that we cannot abandon.”

Natasha reflexively glanced over her shoulder and then leaned forward over his desk. “Which mission, Jaime? Kerlin Ward’s mission, or the new one you and Blake cooked up over the last few months?”

Wolf stood abruptly and paced the length of the room. “They may be the same mission, when you come down to it.”

Her sharp laugh brought him up short. “Did you just miss the last two years, Jaime? Everything’s changed, including us! The Successor States have clubbed each other senseless, dozens of their best units are wrecked, we have break-away states seceding, not to mention what it’s done to us.” She paused for a moment at the look that flickered across Wolf’s eyes, and, she was sure, her own as well. “It’s hopeless,” she finished flatly.

“Not quite,” replied Wolf, his tone becoming quieter. “The Inner Sphere may be in sad shape, but not all of the military is. The Kell Hounds survived the war in good shape, as have the Eridani Light Horse and the Northwind Highlanders. I’ll admit they’re not enough to do everything, but it’s a place to start.”

Natasha seated herself on the edge of Wolf’s desk, watching him pace. “You’re not thinking of bringing them here to train, are you? You wouldn’t compromise our security that way!” Suddenly she slapped the open palm of her right hand against her forehead. “You are planning to do that, aren’t you? That’s why Morgan Kell and his wife Salome are already heading here from their JumpShip. Are you mad? How much does Kell know?”

Wolf drew himself up to his full height. “Morgan Kell knows what I have trusted him with - and trust him I do. He and Salome are coming here so we can run some tests and help them with an infertility problem.”

The Black Widow’s mouth gaped open. “You told them about…”

The small man shook his head. “No, I’ve not told Morgan everything, though I imagine he has figured out what I didn’t. The man is a friend and I’ve decided to help him. He is also a MechWarrior of great skill and courage. I believe Morgan might be persuaded to prepare his forces to help us when the time comes. Furthermore, I think he would be willing to let us train certain of his people so that what we know can be passed on to others without jeopardising our security.”

A shudder passed through her body. “After jeopardising our security like that, I’d ask if you’re going to invite ComStar to set up a Class A HPG here on Outreach, except for the discussions you and Blake have been having.”

That suggestion won a bitter chuckle from Wolf. “Not a chance. ComStar’s benign pacifism died with Primus Tiepolo. The new Primus, this Myndo Waterly, is aggressive and dangerous. Under the old regime, we may have had a slight chance of swaying their support over to our side - although probably the best we could have hoped for is their neutrality - but that’s not going to happen now, and they will likely be an enormous obstacle when the Others come.”

Natasha smiled grimly. “Which is why you’re adding an impossible mission to our already impossible mission.” She sighed wearily. “Look at us. We’ve been fighting here for twenty-five years. We should be retiring, not worrying about preparing others for a war. That task should fall to the whelps up and coming.”

Jaime laid a hand on Natasha’s shoulder. “I agree, but we have a problem. The youngsters have been raised here in the Successor States. We lost a good number of the originals fifteen years ago in the Free Worlds League, and then even more escaping from the Draconis Combine two years ago. The survivors weren’t raised with the same traditions as we. They barely understand that we’re different. And now we have outsiders among us. They, too, must be trained and inculcated with our ways. The only people who can do the training are those of us who have survived all these years.”

The Black Widow shook her head ruefully. “You’re right, of course. Damn it, you’re right again. At least you’re in charge of this whole circus, so I don’t have to do anything other than wait for you to tell me what to kill next. I’ll leave the grand strategy to you.”

Wolf spared a quick glance at his desk chronometer before fixing his subordinate with a steely look, only partially softened by a smile. “Oh, don’t be so sure, Natasha. What do you think’s on the agenda for this evening’s command conference?”

He turned and headed out of his office, then paused, hand on door knob, and called back to Kerensky. “Come on, Captain - we have five minutes and you know I hate being late.”

Kerensky’s response would have earned her a court martial in any normal military.

Outreach
Terran March
17 June 3032

“Fraser’s Company, Able Battalion - front and center!”

Regimental Sergeant Major Rahul’s shout easily carried across the parade ground to where the twelve Epsilon Regiment MechWarriors stood at parade rest amongst two battalions of their comrades.

From his position on the reviewing stand, General Jamie Wolf watched the dozen smartly detach themselves from the ordered ranks of Able Battalion and march in lockstep toward him.

He noted approvingly that Fraser’s Company took pride in their bearing as they approached - a good sign for the future.

For the umpteenth time, he thanked a God that he didn’t believe in that he had turned away from the path of revenge for revenge’s sake.

It had been all too easy to go down that path in the aftermath of Crossing, the battle that had nearly finished the Dragoons just three years ago, given how personal that campaign had become. Wolf had even begun planning for the inevitable resumption of the Dragoons’ vendetta against the Combine as their unusually empty DropShips burned into the Outreach system for the first time.

Most of his surviving senior officers had agreed with him. But not all.

Wolf had shuttled over to the Solace, one of the Dragoons’ medical DropShips, doing the rounds of the wards to see the injured. He’d done so every couple of days during the transit. There were so many injured, but at least some of them were showing progress, like Thomas West, pulled unconscious from the wreckage of his Griffin eighteen hours after the Battle of Crossing ended. On Wolf’s last visit, the veteran MechWarrior and one of the few remaining original Dragoons had been bedridden. This time, he was sitting in the lounge when Wolf passed through, offering the Colonel a jaunty left-handed salute in deference to his cast-immobilised right arm.

On the other hand, Captain Dechan Fraser remained in the coma he’d been in since Misery, felled at the same instant he had brought down Michi Noketsuna. Noketsuna and Jenette Rand were now part of Wolf’s initial plan for revenge against the Draconis Combine. He did not expect to hear from them for some time, but he could be patient, he reminded himself as he nodded a greeting to a medical orderly just leaving a cabin.

Stepping into the same cabin, Wolf was heartened to see Major Stanford Blake sitting up in bed, perusing a tablet. Noticing Wolf, Blake set down the tablet and attempted to pull himself more upright.

   “Colonel,” he began, as Wolf waved off his effort at formality.

   “Stanford - how are you feeling today?” Wolf asked, taking the stool beside the injured intelligence officer’s bed. Blake unconsciously touched the bandages covering most of his head and one ear. “Well, the headaches and dizziness are manageable without drugs now,” he reported with more cheer than he really felt. Both he and Wolf knew that unless the chronic conditions cleared up, Blake’s days in the cockpit were over. They’d seen it happen to others.

There was a tense pause, before Wolf broke the silence. “What are you doing?” he indicated the tablet.

Blake picked up the compact computer and turned it to face Wolf. “I’m going stir-crazy in here, Colonel, so I’ve been doing some thinking.”

Wolf picked up the tablet. On it was a summation of the the current situation as it pertained to the Dragoons. It wasn’t pretty reading.

At the bottom of the screen was a question - “How to accomplish the mission from here?”

Wolf looked up, surprised.

Blake nodded, reading his CO’s mind.

“We’ve still got the mission, Colonel. The real question is how.”

Wolf stood abruptly, leaving the tablet on the bed. “Why should we?” he demanded, his voice almost as icy as that time when he had confronted Takashi Kurita at the Steiner-Davion wedding that had started the recent war.

Blake leaned forward, wincing at the stab of pain that went through him at the sudden motion. “Because they need us more than ever, Colonel! Jamie,” he added urgently “if the Others find out that two of the Successor States have merged and just about destroyed a third, how do you think they’re going to react?”

Forcing himself to calm down, Wolf considered the question. He took two paces to the door, all the space there was in the cabin, and turned back to face his Intelligence Chief.

“They’ll see it as a signal that Hanse Davion intends to reform the Star League with himself at its head - and without them. They’ll vote for invasion immediately.”

“And the Inner Sphere is in no position to stop them.” Blake completed the rough analysis. He leaned back against the pillows, briefly closing his eyes. “You’ve been talking to the Originals about striking back at Kurita -”

“How did you know that?” Wolf demanded. Those conversations had been private affairs.

Blake opened his eyes and cracked a smile. “I’m your Intel Chief, Colonel. Work it out.”

Despite himself, Wolf let out a snort of amusement. Blake pushed on.

“Seeking revenge against Kurita is understandable. I get it - I want my pound of flesh too - hells, Jaime, they shot me out of two ‘Mechs and I’m more than likely never suiting up again because of them!”

The stark statement caused a pang in Jaime - so many were already gone from the ranks, here was yet another.

“But Kurita is nothing compared to what the Others could bring down on the Inner Sphere. And not even Dracs deserve to live under their rule. We’re the only ones who can help the Inner Sphere. Forget Kurita -”

“No!”

The heated outburst was atypical for Jaime Wolf. It was hard to say which of the two men was more surprised by it. When Wolf showed no sign of continuing, Blake spoke again.

“I don’t mean forever.” He sighed. “I suspect Kurita won’t let us forget, anyway.”

Blake propped himself fully upright now, staring intently at the Dragoons’ commander. Wolf had the odd feeling that if Blake had had the strength to do so, he would be grasping him by the lapels.

“Jaime, Wolfnet is good, but we’re not invincible. Except for a bunch of emergency rendezvous coordinates, we’re completely cut off from the homeworlds. We have no idea what other efforts they’re making to gather intel on the Inner Sphere. We know ComStar has ships exploring the Deep Periphery - and while they have the largest operation, the Lyrans, Dracs and FedSuns all have their own little expeditions going.

“What happens if they and the Others stumble across one another? We cannot control that. The only thing we can control is how we prepare the Inner Sphere. Kerlin Ward said he thought he could delay an invasion by ten to fifteen years. We’ve used up twelve years of that margin, and our first attempt has failed.”

Blake collapsed back onto his pillow as his strength failed abruptly, cursing as he did so.

Wolf jumped forward to catch his friend.

“Stan! I’m calling a medic,” he reached for the call button at the head of the bed.

“No need,” groaned Blake. “Just tired.” Now that Wolf was right beside him, Blake did reach up to grab his collar.

“We need to refocus on the mission. Damnit Jaime, I need you focused on stopping the Others.” He stared right into Jaime’s eyes as his commander waged a war within himself. Then, somehow seeing that Wolf had come to the right decision, Blake let go and sank into the thin mattress.

“Thanks for coming by, Colonel,” he said softly, closing his eyes.
“No, Stanford, thank you,” Wolf replied, patting Blake gently on the shoulder. “We will talk about this later. Get your rest, Major.”

Blake did not reply - he was already asleep.

Wolf made no more visits that day - there was work to do.

...and now, before him, some of the fruits of those works were blooming.

The dozen MechWarriors came to a stop at the prescribed distance from the reviewing stand, went to attention and saluted on command from Captain Fraser.

Wolf returned the salute. As his hand dropped to his side, Wolf addressed the scarred veteran in command.

“Congratulations, Captain Fraser. You’ve done well with your command.”

Fraser visibly straightened at the compliment - but so did the rest of the company. Good - esprit de corps was strong here.

“It is my honour to promote you to the rank of Major, Dechan Fraser,” he continued, as an aide held out a pair of olive rank tabs marked with two red stars.

“Thank you, sir!” replied the newly promoted Major Fraser as Wolf attached the rank tabs to his collar.

“Your reputation has preceded you. You are hereby transferred to the Black Widow Battalion,” Wolf told Fraser as he shook the junior officer’s hand.

“I - thank you, sir. But, my company -” started Fraser.

“With the job you’ve done, I’m sure they will be in good hands under Captain West,” chimed in Colonel Elisabeth Nichole, Epsilon Regiment’s CO. She handed a pair of captain’s rank tabs to Fraser, who pinned them on his old comrade, both of them competing to have the biggest grin in the process.

“I suppose Strike Lance needs a new commander, huh?” West asked. And both of them turned to Corporal Emilia Tzu, a product of one of the first Dragoon Sibkos.

“General, would you do the honors?” asked Captain West.

“My pleasure, Captain,” smiled Wolf. Colonel Nichole handed a pair of white discs to him, and with that little action, the next stage in rebuilding the Dragoons began.


New Avalon
Federated Suns
6 November, 3035

Quintus Allard was in Hanse Davion’s personal study for the third time today. The first time was at 0745 when he had delivered the morning intelligence summary, something which he still did once a week or so. It was really the job of a mid-level officer, but Allard liked to keep his hand in. He’d returned at 0930 to discuss the future integration of the LIC with his MIIO. When he returned to his own desk from that meeting, he found an Intelligence Estimate that had been flagged by Alex Mallory for his attention. The contents of said Estimate were the reason he was back in the First Prince’s presence as the sun set over Camelot.

Quintus sat back in the comfortable chair that faced Davion’s desk, watching his sovereign work his way through the three-page summary. He noticed how Davion held the papers almost at arm's length as he read. Still refusing to use the reading glasses, thought Allard. Six months ago, an administrative memo had come from Hanse’s Senior Executive Assistant directing that all reports for the First Prince’s attention had to begin with a double-spaced summary no more than four pages long, with the text at least sixteen-point in size.

Hanse finished reading and placed the summary on top of his copy of the Intelligence Estimate. The centimetre-thick folder sat alone on the dark green blotter portion of the First Prince’s desk, but there were stacks of similar folders in trays to either side, differentiated mainly by their multi-coloured borders depending on their subject, security classification or both. He squeezed his eyes shut momentarily, covering it by also pinching the bridge of his nose as he contemplated what he had just read.

“Let me see if I understand this,” Hanse began as he reopened his eyes. “Wolf’s Dragoons are probably artificially growing a bunch of elite MechWarriors on Outreach, and have the means to outfit them with ‘Mechs.”

Quintus nodded.

Hanse picked up the summary again and flicked to the second page. “Alright, let’s go through this again. Six years after being reduced from five fully supported regiments to one understrength combined-arms regiment, the Dragoons are better than halfway rebuilt, with three fully supported regiments taking contracts and elements of the other two also spotted in the field as attachments. That would be an excellent job for one of our wealthier PDZs, but it’s downright remarkable for a single world.”

Hanse stabbed another point with his finger. “Their ability to re-equip with BattleMechs far exceeds the production facilities on Outreach, but that must be where the machines are coming from since they haven’t bought enough from outside manufacturers to rebuild even one regiment.”

Quintus nodded again. “Which means we’ve just proven that the survey done by Snord’s Irregulars before you signed over the world to the Dragoons is, at best, flawed and incomplete.”

“At worst,” Davion picked up the thread, “The Irregulars are collaborating with the Dragoons.”

“Actually, we now believe that they’re a clandestine unit of the Dragoons’ intelligence arm,” Quintus admitted.

Hanse merely grunted as his scenario got even worse, then flipped to the last page. “Replacing material is one thing, but finding warriors for all those machines is another. The Dragoons have taken in a lot of soldiers who lost their units in the last war, but only a few met their standards. Your analyst thinks that would be enough for…?”

Quintus didn’t need to consult his copy of the full report. “They took in enough MechWarriors from destroyed commands for about one battalion, plus about two squadrons’ worth of AeroWarriors, two battalions of armour crew, and an unknown amount of infantry, but certainly no more than a regiment’s worth.”

“So, still not enough. And that leads to this outlandish conclusion that somehow the Dragoons are growing their own troops?”

“Unfortunately, if you look at the evidence that’s accumulated since the Dragoons arrived thirty years ago, it’s a credible possibility.” Allard raised a finger. “One, the Dragoons’ military prowess tends to blind people to the fact that they have medical lostech. And that they’ve used that lostech to treat outsiders as well as their own since they came.”

Hanse nodded. “I know, one of my cousins went to them for…” Hanse’s tired eyes sharpened as he realised the implications of the rest of his sentence. “... fertility treatment.” He fairly hissed the final two words.

“She was far from the only one,” Quintus pointed out. “And this brings me to point number two. From what we’ve been able to reconstruct, after battlefield injuries, the most common way the Dragoons have used their advanced medical knowledge since arriving in the Inner Sphere is in the area of infertility treatments - with a remarkably high success rate, I might add.”

Hanse shifted his gaze to a spot on the back wall, over Allard’s head. “I remember when word got around the FedSuns nobility about the ‘wonder cures’ the Dragoons had, and the race to take advantage of it.”

“Which brings up point number three,” said Quintus. “Most of the people who sought medical help from the Dragoons have been nobles. It was true here, and we have no reason to suspect it was any different in the other states they worked for. The nobility of the Inner Sphere contains a significant proportion of MechWarriors and other military personnel.”

Hanse put down the summary sheet and looked straight at Allard. “I don’t think I like where this is going.”

Quintus ploughed on. “The Dragoons have been in a position to collect genetic material from many of the Inner Sphere’s finest warriors. When the Dragoon’s dependents arrived in the FedSuns from the Combine during the war, they contained substantially more children than they should have. From the information they gave Immigration Services, our analysts worked out that the average Dragoons family has three-point-oh-seven children - well above the FedSuns average as a whole, and only slightly less than some of our Outback Worlds.

“We don’t normally analyze the dependents of mercenary units, but with all the red flags popping up about the Dragoons, our team did so. The average mercenary unit employed by us has one-point-eight-six children per family.”

Hanse turned the summary back to the last page. “And then - “

Quintus jumped in. “Yes. We went back and looked at the blood samples they gave Immigration Services. We found that all of the children were related to at least one of their parents, but only around a third of them were actually related to both their parents. Concentrating on the anomalous two-thirds, what we found is not conclusive in and of itself, but taken along with all the other evidence...:”

Now it was Hanse’s turn to jump in. “So, they found genetic markers that tend to be more common in certain families, including -” he flipped open the Intelligence Estimate to the page cross-referenced on his summary sheet, and read the list of names “ - Stephenson, Zibler, Davions of Argyle, Davions of Victoria, McLeod, Ellerslie, McGuigan, Kim, Vu... Quintus, this is a veritable Burke’s Peerage of the top MechWarrior families in the Suns!”

“Yes, I know,” Quintus conceded. “For what it’s worth, they appear to have been equal-opportunity genetic pilferers. Our data is much more limited here, but we believe we have found children with lineages from the leading MechWarrior families in the Combine, Commonwealth, League and Confederation as well.”

“Katrina’s going to hit the roof when she finds out,” muttered Hanse, thinking of his mother-in-law’s propensity for decisive action. He reached for his glass of scotch, then paused with the drink halfway to his lips. “Quintus, do we know if they did the same with military personnel from other arms?”

Quintus sighed. “Unfortunately not, sire. We track MechWarriors mostly because of their prestige. We simply don’t have enough readily available data to do the same for say, tankers or artillerymen.”

Hanse grunted. “So much for being more egalitarian than the other Successor States.” He sighed and rubbed his eyes again. “Put together a group to look at the implications and recommend courses of action - a small group,” he ordered.

“Already done, Hanse. Alex Mallory is heading it up. They aim to have some projections by the end of the week.”

Title: Re: A Reckoning
Post by: Daryk on 27 December 2017, 19:24:27

Not bad, not bad at all.  I'll say I think you captured the voices of Hanse and Quintus better than Jaime and Natasha, and you could have used a copy editing pass.  But really, not bad at all, and interesting to boot.  I look forward to more.  O0

(And I recommend the BattleTech 2.0 skin to see that emoji correctly...)

Title: Re: A Reckoning
Post by: snakespinner on 27 December 2017, 19:34:44

Natasha was a bit bland, the writing was good.
Good work. O0

Title: Re: A Reckoning
Post by: DOC_Agren on 27 December 2017, 22:37:56

Interesting

Title: Re: A Reckoning
Post by: Shadow_Wraith on 27 December 2017, 23:30:49

Nice start!  Hope to see more!

Title: Re: A Reckoning
Post by: drakensis on 28 December 2017, 04:27:14

Hmm. Very interesting idea there and one that the Dragoons may not have considered all the implications of.

Title: Re: A Reckoning
Post by: DoctorMonkey on 28 December 2017, 08:47:41

Interesting


Generally well written
Reasonably paced


My only thought would be to try to avoid direct commentary of people (especially women) by their appearance when trying to suggest personality as you did with Natasha Kerensky - or you could put it along the lines of "Natasha Kerensky's mood seemed to match her fiery reputation and temper which her carefully cultivated image meant she also matched with her hair" which is too wordy and that is why I am a critic rather than an author

Title: Re: A Reckoning
Post by: alkemita on 28 December 2017, 15:57:17

Posted by: Daryk
« on: 27 December 2017, 20:24:27 »

Quote

Not bad, not bad at all.  I'll say I think you captured the voices of Hanse and Quintus better than Jaime and Natasha, and you could have used a copy editing pass.

Posted by: snakespinner
« on: 27 December 2017, 20:34:44 »

Quote

Natasha was a bit bland, the writing was good.

Posted by: DoctorMonkey
« on: Today at 09:47:41 »

Quote

My only thought would be to try to avoid direct commentary of people (especially women) by their appearance when trying to suggest personality as you did with Natasha Kerensky

Thank you all for the feedback. I actually lifted about 90% of the first chunk verbatim from Stackpole, so Natasha Kerensky's dialogue and the description are all from him. I debated re-writing that scene, but thought that since an official BTech writer had already done it, I might as well copy it wholesale.

On reflection, and given your input, I will rewrite this.

Quote from: drakensis on 28 December 2017, 04:27:14

Hmm. Very interesting idea there and one that the Dragoons may not have considered all the implications of.

Do you mean the genetic pilfering, or something else?

Hope to have the next chapter up later today.

Keep the feedback coming.

Title: Re: A Reckoning
Post by: Dave Talley on 29 December 2017, 00:34:30

This looks good

Title: Re: A Reckoning
Post by: drakensis on 29 December 2017, 05:14:20

Quote from: alkemita on 28 December 2017, 15:57:17

Do you mean the genetic pilfering, or something else?

The genetic pilfering.

After all, they may consider that they're just making warriors but this is a dynastic culture and they're also creating potential claimants...

Title: Re: A Reckoning
Post by: DoctorMonkey on 29 December 2017, 08:31:59

I may not have been sufficiently positive in my feedback - I really like this


I am interested that what I disliked in the description was lifted from a different author probably written quite some time ago


I have a few friends who are authors and some of them are also quite strong female-types and so point out these sorts of things and when pointed out I then notice them

Title: Re: A Reckoning
Post by: mikecj on 29 December 2017, 14:26:07

I'm enjoying it, thanks for sharing

Title: Re: A Reckoning
Post by: alkemita on 29 December 2017, 23:54:15

Thank you for your patience. Here's Part 2, delayed by real life and a cold.

One note - I hate the AFFC rank structure deleting "Colonel", so I've restored it.

---

Forging the Pack - The Untold Story of Wolf’s Dragoons in the Reckoning
By Drs H. R. Cowan & T. S. Choi
Pub. New Avalon Press, 3068

The first concrete expression of the Dragoons’ plan was the revitalised and rebuilt Black Widow Company.

Although hurting for resources in the aftermath of the 4th Succession War, Wolf spared no expense in turning Kerensky’s command into the premier OPFOR in the Inner Sphere.

They were helped by the fact that nine of the Widows survived the war, although two of them would never pilot a ‘Mech again due to extensive injuries that not even the Dragoons’ medical wizardry could rectify. Kerensky turned the rest into her sub-unit leaders as the Widows grew into an augmented, combined arms battalion.

Although no one knew it at the time, Kerensky actually rebuilt her command as what we would now recognise as a fairly typical Clan Cluster. For security reasons, the Dragoons continued to refer to “Lances” and “Companies” rather than “Stars” and “Trinaries”.

Kerensky’s Command Star was built around her iconic black Warhammer, with four more heavy BattleMechs in support. These machines were piloted by hand-picked graduates of the Dragoons’ training programs, and soon included the first generation of Dragoons sibkids. The members of Kerensky’s Command Star rarely remained in the Black Widow Cluster for more than four months, rotating to other postings after participating in a few wargames and the occasional live mission.

It appears that Kerensky and Wolf were using the assignment to rapidly season potential leaders for the Dragoons in a relatively safe environment. Indeed, many of those sibkids soon rose to lance and company commands in other Dragoons units. By the time of the Reckoning, just over a third of the Dragoons’ battalion commanders and nearly half the company commanders had spent time in the Black Widows Command Star.

In battle, Kerensky used her Command Star as a trouble-shooter unit, roaming freely around the field to wherever they could be a decisive force. Occasionally, she would attach a Star from another Trinary to her Command Star to create a pair of Binaries.

Spider Trinary was the sledgehammer of the Cluster, comprising two Heavy/Assault Stars and one Star of faster Heavy BattleMechs. The first commander of Spider Trinary was Kerensky’s long-time second in command, Major Johnny Clavell. Kerensky packed Spider Trinary with some of the best gunners in the Dragoons, in part to better simulate the devastating firepower that a Clan Assault Trinary could bring to the battlefield.

The second Black Widow Trinary, named Tarantula Trinary, was a fairly typical Clan Battle Trinary, with one Star each of Heavy, Medium and Light machines. Initially commanded by the Inner Sphere-born-and-raised Major Dechan Fraser, Tarantula was a “swing” unit, able to play many roles proficiently, from hit-and-fade attacks to mobile defence. Under Fraser and his successors, Tarantula Trinary was usually the first encounter trainees had with the Widows, and it was an universally unpleasant one.

Web Trinary was also built as a Battle Trinary, but beefed up into a Supernova by attaching a thirty-man jump infantry platoon to each Star (the extra man in each Point/Squad drove a Blackwell Industries designed hovercraft). Each jump-infantry Point typically moved with the same BattleMech, creating a reasonable facsimile of the Elemental Battle Armour units that would cause so much fear later. In exercises, the ersatz-Elementals’ signature move was to slap simulated demolition charges marked by a spiders web onto critical components of opposing ‘Mechs, harmlessly but graphically demonstrating their lethality.

They were assisted in this by the hovercraft that moved them (never formally named but universally known as “Mules”). Each vehicle was unarmed and unarmoured, but carried man-portable SRM-2 launchers and Support Lasers on quick-access racks allowing its passengers to select from a variety of weapons options. Although the Mules were never intended for actual combat, Web Trinary did use them on various short term contracts. The reputation gained by Web Trinary made them almost as feared as the Black Widow Command Star.

Finally, the Cluster was rounded out by the addition of an AeroSpace Fighter Binary (one Light/Medium Star and one Medium/Heavy Star) and a 7th Kommando Team. The former is a normal component of Clan units, but the latter was not. The elite special forces unit was used to simulate other capabilities of Elementals, such as Headhunter tactics that the Mule-mounted infantry would find difficult to replicate.

It should be pointed out that the Black Widow Battalion was not the only OPFOR used by the Dragoons. Elements of the Dragoons Home Guard rotated through the Tetsuhara Proving Grounds acting as OPFOR in the initial stages of a unit’s visit. This allowed the Dragoons to sharpen their Home Guard by giving them regular practice defending against ‘Mech-heavy units - a prescient decision, as it turned out.

Definitive information on the exact nature of the training program (known by the deceptively bland title “The Series”) that the Black Widow Battalion carried out for their comrades (and later, for the Association of Mercenary Commands) remains frustratingly elusive. To date, none of the surviving Dragoons has ever discussed the program in detail.

Several mercenaries from AMC commands, however, have left written accounts of their experiences in the Series, and these records make up the majority of what we know. It is certain that the Dragoons had a slightly different syllabus for their own troops since AMC trainees did a 3-week program, while two different Dragoons have referred to a 4 week program, but we believe the majority of the training content to have been identical.

The Series for AMC members began with a strictly controlled arrival in the Outreach system. Before their DropShips detached for the final leg to Outreach itself, each vessel was boarded and thoroughly inspected by Dragoons staff for security reasons. The inspections were rigorous. Retired Colonel Helena Mattoli of the Illician Lancers went through the Series as a new company commander with her battalion. In her autobiography, she related an anecdote about how a data entry mistake on a customs declaration by one of her lancemates led to Dragoons inspectors searching their ‘Mechs down to their myomer bundles.

After surviving that scrutiny, the battalion would make planetfall and be billeted at one of the Dragoons’ bases. Exactly which base seems to have varied, with Fort Joshua, Camp Shostokovitch, Camp Wells and Fort Jones all being identified by AMC members. Being the four largest of the Dragoons’ facilities on the Romulus continent, they offered the widest range of facilities for visiting units, an important consideration since they were not allowed into the civilian areas of Outreach for security reasons. Master Sergeant Christina Zvados of the Eridani Light Horse commented that she had been to Outreach twice in her life, both times to participate in the Series, but had never seen anything on planet other than barracks, Mech ‘Bays and the Range.

The next two days following arrival were devoted to in-processing and integrating all vehicles and their crew into the Dragoons’ Star League-era simulation facilities. This system was broadly similar to those in use by all major militaries, except that it was equipped to handle a greater number of individual units on each side, possibly up to brigade size on each side.

This would tally with the “new” Dragoons operational doctrine that attached armour and mechanised infantry companies to ‘Mech battalions, sometimes bulking them up to double normal size.

After final briefings, the Series itself would get underway early on day three - usually between 0000-0200 hours local, with a no-notice deployment order.

The opening scenario was designed to shock participating units and expose weaknesses or inflexibility.

Then Captain Mattoli describes the opening scenario thus.

“If there was a small mercy, it was that my Company had finished all our prep early, and so we’d managed about four hours sleep before loud buzzers shocked us awake at 0230. Captain Lincoln (the night duty officer) came on the horn next, ordering us all to the briefing room in five minutes.

“Once we were seated, still rubbing sleep from our eyes, a Dragoon Major took the stage and flicked on the holo-tank. The first slide said ‘Series Phase A - Scenario 1’. Now we knew things had kicked off.

“Without preamble, the Major began to lay out the situation. In Scenario 1, we were acting as a theater reserve unit. Apparently, the Main Effort had established a beachhead on Remus 24 hours ago, but was now being massively counterattacked. We were to embark on WiGE transports in 30 minutes [note: other participants used DropShips to make the trip. There is is no clear reason why one mode was selected over another], cross the strait to a designated [Landing Point] and reinforce the Main Effort. Opposition was estimated at a brigade-plus of infantry and armour, no ‘Mech support spotted.

“A torrent of administrivia followed - comms frequencies, loading plans and the like. This all had to be written down on paper - no compads allowed. I’m sure it was all part of the effort to ramp up the pressure on us.

“Thirty minutes isn’t a lot of time to power up a Battalion of ‘Mechs and assorted attachments, march them over to a transport and lock them down again. We barely managed it, mainly because many of us had been in a similar situation on our last contract - what a gong show that was! - and we all managed to leave the line of departure on schedule.”

The battalion would be loaded into either DropShips or WiGE transports and moved to the Tetsuhara Proving Grounds on Remulus, where they would unload directly into a firefight. The scenario cast them as a hasty relief force thrown into battle to contain a sudden enemy penetration of friendly lines. It appeared to have been designed to put trainees under maximum stress. Colonel Mattoli recalled this introduction to the Series as utter chaos:

“The moment our [WiGE] transport hit the beach, the briefed plan didn’t just change, it was alpha-struck out of existence.

“For starters, we were on the wrong beach. Secondly, the perimeter being held by the friendlies we had come to reinforce was collapsing, and thirdly, we were actually on the outside of said perimeter.

“My Lance Sergeant was ‘killed’ within seconds of disembarking, and my wingman followed her not long after. MechWarrior Sharma and I somehow made it to the improvised company rally point to discover two things. One - Mace Company had taken fifty percent casualties in the first three minutes, including both my Lance Commanders, and; two - a second enemy wave, estimated at battalion size, would be hitting our sector of the line in thirty seconds.”

Once the battle was over and Captain Mattoli joined her comrades in the After Action Review, there was a final surprise.

“To add insult to injury, we discovered then that the OPFOR had consisted of a Dragoons Home Guard infantry regiment backed by a battalion of medium armour. Three months ago we’d decisively beaten the Regulan Hussars on their own turf, and now we’d been routed by part-time foot-sloggers and tread-heads.”

From this unpromising beginning, the visiting battalion would continue to be put through the wringer for the next three weeks or so. The program would be familiar to soldiers from the Successor (and some minor) States - individual missions that stressed every aspect of the training unit’s command, operations and logistics, followed by comprehensive and rigorous After Action Reviews.

The difference with the Series was that most mercenaries did not get the chance to participate in such training, so slots were eagerly sought, and simply being able to pay the substantial fee was no guarantee that your command would be selected for a rotation.

As we now know, the Dragoons were actively searching for units that they could train up to oppose the Clans. Those that did well in the Series were offered membership in the Dragoon-sponsored Association of Mercenary Commands (AMC).

The supposed goal of the blandly named organisation was to raise the standards of mercenary units. Although the ComStar-run MRBC was quietly suspicious of the AMC, publically they had to approve of it. Under the guise of advanced training, AMC members held regular seminars, published newsletters and exchanged lessons learned from their contracts.

Whatever the MRBC thought of the AMC, they could not deny that having “AMC Member” in a Command’s listing was a gateway to more lucrative contracts, fewer defaults and a better image for a controversial industry.

Of course, that was before they discovered the true purpose of the AMC.

Gladius
Virginia Shire, Federation of Skye, Federated Commonwealth
03 March 3037

“Danke,” replied Cassius Reiter automatically as the server deposited a snifter of the excellent local fruit liqueur on his table. The man bobbed his head in acknowledgement as he withdrew, leaving the AFFC Colonel to his contemplations.

Reiter put down the glossy brochure he was reading and tipped half the contents of the snifter down his throat. He’d discovered the exquisite drink on the first day of the Skye Militech Show and had returned to the GM Hospitality Suite on the second day for some more.

The GM suite sat just below the high ceiling of the Hyacles International Convention Centre’s Hall D, with large windows affording guests like Reiter an impressive overview of the show floor. Despite having a window seat, Reiter ignored the vista. He had spent the better part of the last two days down on the floor as part of a joint team from the LCAF Quartermaster Department and the AFFS Transport and Resupply Command, and had seen almost all there was to see - from prototypes of advanced gloves for armoured crew to entire new BattleMechs. As a former (he would have said “current”) MechWarrior, it was, of course the latter that most interested him.

The Davion half of the team had shown far more interest in the infantry and armoured fighting vehicle developments. His AFFS counterpart, one Colonel Benedict Zibler had condescendingly pointed out to Reiter that since the AFFC would be adopting the Davion RCT structure, which was dominated by infantry despite being spearheaded by a ‘Mech Regiment, they owed it to the troops to investigate any development that would protect them better or increase their battlefield lethality.

Reiter saw nothing wrong with the current organisation of the LCAF, and so had “suggested” that the team split up to cover more ground and keep Zibler as far from himself as possible. Unfortunately, Zibler had insisted that they exchange some team members, so he was saddled with a trio of AFFS officers, only one of whom was a fellow MechWarrior, to go with his three LCAF comrades.

However, being the senior officer, he was able to “reward” his half of the team for their good work over the past couple of days by giving them some time off before dinner, which allowed him to wander back to the GM Hospitality Suite alone, and unencumbered by having to look at yet another “improved” load bearing harness or “advanced” all-environment boot.

As the warm glow from the liqueur settled in his belly, he turned back to the stack of promotional material (all BattleMech related) that he had collected that day.

   “Cassius?”

   Reiter twisted in his seat. A tall woman wearing the uniform of the Illician Lancers mercenary brigade stood before him. For those unfamiliar with the rank insignia of the Illicians, she wore a single AFFC epaulet suspended from her right breast pocket - a common convention for mercenaries under contract. The epaulet bore the rank of Kommandant. There were new grey streaks in the woman’s dark brown hair and more lines on her face than when he had last seen her.

   “Helena!” Reiter jumped out of his chair to greet his old comrade. “Mein Gott - how long has it been?” he asked as he pumped his old comrade’s hand, guiding her to the free chair on the other side of the table.

   “Almost seven years - just after we got back from New Wessex,” Helena Mattoli settled herself in the chair, placing a tumblr of green liquid next to Reiter’s brochures.

   “Ah, yes, of course,” Reiter replied, his eyes briefly far away.
   “They managed to save your leg?” she asked next.

   Reiter sighed, picked up his tablet, and used it to tap the side of his right shin. It produced a decidedly non-fleshy sound.

   “I’m sorry, Cassius,” Mattoli said after a brief pause.
   “Don’t be. Best prosthetics money can buy - thanks to being the second son of Graf von Kockengen. I can still pilot, but the damn medics won’t clear me for frontline service, so here I am, using my vast combat experience for the benefit of the Quartermaster Corps.” He took another sip of his drink. “So -” he continued, “I heard you got out, but I see you signed up with the Lancers.”

   Mattoli likewise took a drink before replying. “Tried the civilian life, but civilians drove me crazy. Rep-Dep wanted me to jump through all sorts of hoops to reactivate because I was out for seven weeks longer than some stupid deadline the have.”

   Reiter grunted in sympathy - the capriciousness of the Replacement Depot Corps bureaucracy was legendary in the LCAF.

   “So I went down to the MRBC office, dumped my service record into their system, and the Lancers were the first to call back. Been with them since.”

   “Ah, I see. How’s Jovina?”
   “Good - she got a position in the Illician Admin arm, so it’s no worse than when I was running around the Sphere trying to keep you in line.”
   “Ha!” Reiter took the jibe in good humor.
   “What about you and Silvie?”
   “We got married once I got out of rehab.” Reiter extracted his personal comm and passed it to Mattoli.
   “Congratulations, Cassius,” she said as she scrolled through the family photos. “You have a child!”
   He nodded. “Harold - he’ll be four this August.”
   “Named after your father?”
   “Ja.”
   “Thank goodness he looks more like his mother,”
   “Remind me again how come I never charged you with insubordination when you were my exec?” chuckled Reitner.
   “Because I always knew how to make you look good in front of General Steiner,” laughed Mattoli as Reiter lifted his glass in salute.

   “So, you seen a lot of action with the Lancers?”
   “Some.” She hesitated.
   “Come on, Helena - you never spared my feeling when you were my Exec,” Reiter smiled to take the sting out of the rebuke.
   “Alright,” Mattoli smiled back. “They gave me a Lance at first, but with the rebuilding after the war, I had a Company in six months. Took them to Outreach for the Dragoons’ war games-”
“Was it as tough as they say?”
“Remember Vega?”
Reitner snorted “As if I could forget.”
“Right - that’s what the Series was like.”
“Scheiße. But I interrupted your resume.”
   “Where was I? Oh yes, I had Mace Company for three years - some action against Liao and Marik, and then-”
   “God be good - you actually made Battalion CO! Congratulations!”
   “Yep. Third Battalion of the Ninth Lancers. Just finished my tour.” Reiter could hear the disappointment in her voice. He’d never have his own Battalion, much less a Regiment, but he’d heard from others how those were the best commands to have in the LCAF - from a certain point of view.

   “And now?” He probed. Mattoli gestured at the stack of brochures littering the table between them.
   “Same as you, I presume - looking over the latest and greatest and making recommendations that will be read and ignored.”
   “No kidding.”

   Mattoli downed her drink and slapped the glass back onto the table. “You want to write our reports together?”

   Reiter nodded. “Let’s see what GM’s idea of a good feed is.”

   An hour later, they were agreed that the interstellar conglomerate did indeed put on a good feed. Both had their tablets out, working together like they did in old times in the 3rd Lyran Guard. Reiter quite enjoyed the nostalgic rush. They’d moved to another table with more room to spread out their collected bounty.

   “Okay - Johnston Industries is done,” said Reiter, suppressing a burp with one hand. “What’s next?”

   “Blackwell,” replied Mattoli, pushing a small stack of leaflets into the center of the table with one hand while filching an eclair from Reitner’s plate with the other.

   “Ah yes. Spent a lot of time in their booth today,” Reiter commented. “Booth” being somewhat of a misnomer - Blackwell’s area covered a full third of Hall J.

   “I was there yesterday,” Mattoli responded through a mouthful of dessert.
   “Your opinion, Oberleutnant?”
   “They’re trying some interesting things with classic designs,” Mattoli hedged.

   Reiter snorted, flipping open the glossy brochure while tabbing over to his own notes on the tablet.
   “So, they have licenced some of the most common ‘Mech designs from their manufacturers and reworked them for easier maintenance - that’s their basic angle, ja?”
   “Right.”
   “Which ones again?” He seemed to have lost that page. Mattoli found the appropriate page in her copy. “Locust, Wasp, Stinger, Griffin, Shadow Hawk, Phoenix Hawk, Thunderbolt, Archer, Warhammer, Marauder and Stalker,” she rattled off.
   “Trying to appeal to the widest possible market then. Easier to maintain is fine, but there’s nothing revolutionary there.”
   “Au contraire, Hauptmann,” riposted Mattoli. “Didn’t they take you through their -” she rapidly flipped through her copy of the brochure until she found it “- here it is! Their Modular Weapons Management System?”

   Reiter frowned as he thought back. He’d seen a lot of presentations in the past couple of days, and it took him a moment to remember.

   “Ja, that was the one where they programmed the Master Computer to recognise and adjust for different models of weapons, correct?” At Mattoli’s nod, Reiter shrugged. “So? Any competent tech can put an Intek Medium Laser into a Martell casing in half an hour.”

   “Yes, Cassius,” Mattoli continued. Reiter recognised the tone as the one she’d often used as his second in command when she found he’d screwed up the paperwork again. He just managed to avoid reflexively saying “What did I do now?” like he used to. In any case, Mattoli rolled on.

“But what Blackwell has done here is to design the mount to take any Medium Laser, without having to jury rig it. So now - you still drive your Thunderbolt-5S, right?”

Reiter nodded.

“Okay, so now,” She flipped open the appropriate brochure, “with this Blackwell -5WD version, if one of your DO-18 mediums goes kaput, and all you have on hand are Magna Mark-2s, your competent tech can simply pull out the non-op medium, slap in the Magna-2, without modification, and the Modular WMS will auto-calibrate. See here?” She pointed to a chart. “Can all be done in five minutes.”

“Impressive,” conceded Reiter. He pulled out his own copy of the brochure. “However! The price you pay for this - this -5WD model is nearly seven million C-Bills. Almost one third more expensive. And for your information, Oberleutnant, I did go over their demo model extensively. Did you know that the power feeds to the -5WD’s Large Laser are rated to 750 percent over peak loads? That’s a ridiculous margin - if you get that much surge through the line, the whole arm will blow off anyway. It’s like that all over the design. Overengineered, overpriced.”

“So you’ll recommend against? Because of the cost factor?”
“Ja, and knowing you, you’ll recommend for, because now your logistics are simpler.”
“It’s different from the mercenary point of view,”
“Noted. Can you pass the cheese plate?”

Title: Re: A Reckoning
Post by: mikecj on 30 December 2017, 00:08:35

Not Omni but getting there, and getting them used to the idea of it...

Title: Re: A Reckoning
Post by: alkemita on 30 December 2017, 00:21:12

Quote from: mikecj on 30 December 2017, 00:08:35

Not Omni but getting there, and getting them used to the idea of it...

*Ding!Ding!Ding!*  :)

Title: Re: A Reckoning
Post by: Daryk on 30 December 2017, 00:26:14

This part reads much better than the first, nice job!  There were a couple of typos, but nothing like the first one.  I'm looking forward to part 3...

Title: Re: A Reckoning
Post by: alkemita on 30 December 2017, 00:33:41

Quote from: drakensis on 29 December 2017, 05:14:20

The genetic pilfering.

After all, they may consider that they're just making warriors but this is a dynastic culture and they're also creating potential claimants...

Yes - I must admit I haven't yet found a solution to this one that doesn't totally de-rail the plot I'm going for, or doesn't smack of hand-wavium

Title: Re: A Reckoning
Post by: marauder648 on 30 December 2017, 02:52:36

Darn good stuff!  Well written and good pacing!

Title: Re: A Reckoning
Post by: snakespinner on 30 December 2017, 03:17:56

Well done.
Reiter sounds like the usual LCAF dipstick.
Blackwell's idea is very good. Will make it easier to train tech's on Omni mechs later on. O0

Title: Re: A Reckoning
Post by: Daryk on 30 December 2017, 06:59:17

Quote from: alkemita on 30 December 2017, 00:33:41

Yes - I must admit I haven't yet found a solution to this one that doesn't totally de-rail the plot I'm going for, or doesn't smack of hand-wavium

As long as all the legitimate acknowledged heirs survive, there's no problem at all...

Title: Re: A Reckoning
Post by: Speedbump on 30 December 2017, 18:19:11

Quote

“Impressive,” conceded Reiter. He pulled out his own copy of the brochure. “However! The price you pay for this - this -5WD model is nearly seven million C-Bills. Almost one third more expensive. And for your information, Oberleutnant, I did go over their demo model extensively. Did you know that the power feeds to the -5WD’s Large Laser are rated to 750 percent over peak loads? That’s a ridiculous margin - if you get that much surge through the line, the whole arm will blow off anyway. It’s like that all over the design. Overengineered, overpriced.”

“So you’ll recommend against? Because of the cost factor?”
“Ja, and knowing you, you’ll recommend for, because now your logistics are simpler.”
“It’s different from the mercenary point of view,”
“Noted. Can you pass the cheese plate?”

I'm going to have to side with him on this one. A 30% cost increase (or close to it) for true omni capability is worth it. Merely easy swap outs is not. Even if you're a mercenary the money saved and the will mean that quite often you'll be able to afford more replacement/additional mechs (if you're doing well) or to actually buy replacement parts at all.(if you're doing badly) Going from zero to Omnimechs certainly isn't my expectation, but in cannon even when the Inner Sphere got Omnimechs they found the cost to benefit ratio even enough that they kept on developing non-omni Battlemechs even for their best units.

Putting that aside I'm enjoying the story so far and I look forward to seeing how it goes.

Title: Re: A Reckoning
Post by: Intermittent_Coherence on 30 December 2017, 22:07:01

Quote from: alkemita on 29 December 2017, 23:54:15

“Locust, Wasp, Stinger, Griffin, Shadow Hawk, Phoenix Hawk, Thunderbolt, Archer, Warhammer, Marauder and Stalker,”

That's a veritable who's who of Unseen designs.

Title: Re: A Reckoning
Post by: alkemita on 30 December 2017, 23:11:17

Quote from: Speedbump on 30 December 2017, 18:19:11

I'm going to have to side with him on this one. A 30% cost increase (or close to it) for true omni capability is worth it. Merely easy swap outs is not. Even if you're a mercenary the money saved and the will mean that quite often you'll be able to afford more replacement/additional mechs (if you're doing well) or to actually buy replacement parts at all.(if you're doing badly) Going from zero to Omnimechs certainly isn't my expectation, but in cannon even when the Inner Sphere got Omnimechs they found the cost to benefit ratio even enough that they kept on developing non-omni Battlemechs even for their best units.

All good points, Speedbump. To say more would be spoilers at this point.

Title: Re: A Reckoning
Post by: alkemita on 30 December 2017, 23:12:18

Quote from: Intermittent_Coherence on 30 December 2017, 22:07:01

That's a veritable who's who of Unseen designs.

;)
I see what you did there. As for the list, what can I say, I'm a classicist.

Title: Re: A Reckoning
Post by: alkemita on 30 December 2017, 23:14:38

Quote from: snakespinner on 30 December 2017, 03:17:56

Reiter sounds like the usual LCAF dipstick.
Blackwell's idea is very good. Will make it easier to train tech's on Omni mechs later on. O0

I hope he didn't sound too much like a dipstick - after all, he survived some pretty bad fighting in the 4th succession war, but yes, he does have some of the LCAF blindspots in his thinking.

Title: Re: A Reckoning
Post by: snakespinner on 31 December 2017, 01:28:33

I meant by that a classical Lyran, concentrating on mechs.
That was just the training up to that time.
Basically what you can expect early on in the FC. O0

Title: Re: A Reckoning
Post by: DoctorMonkey on 31 December 2017, 06:38:13

Quote from: alkemita on 30 December 2017, 23:14:38

I hope he didn't sound too much like a dipstick - after all, he survived some pretty bad fighting in the 4th succession war, but yes, he does have some of the LCAF blindspots in his thinking.

He sounds like he was signed up to the classic doctrine of the Lyran Commonwealth

Title: Re: A Reckoning
Post by: DOC_Agren on 02 January 2018, 17:04:18

Quote from: DoctorMonkey on 31 December 2017, 06:38:13

He sounds like he was signed up to the classic doctrine of the Lyran Commonwealth

and hasn't gone Merc yet which is where the best of the Lyran Officers endup, so they escape the social general issue

I like this by the way  👍

Title: Re: A Reckoning
Post by: alkemita on 30 January 2018, 01:42:38

And here's Part 3. I found this a real pain to write, and I'm still not totally happy with it, but here it is.

Outreach
Terran March, Federated Commonwealth
1 April 3034

The doomed regiment group swarmed over the geological formation known as Complex Rho in good order.

Three pairs of Light AeroSpace fighters led, streaking out ahead of their ground-bound comrades. Cavalry Scouts mounted in hovercraft and covered by light tanks took the high ground next, establishing over-watch positions. They were soon joined by Partisan Air Defence Tanks, a pair to each high point.

Once convinced that all was secure, the main body of the First Dismal Disinherited (Malik’s Plague of Locusts)  flowed through the four  nearly parallel natural channels that transected Complex Rho, detaching security elements as they exited the channels onto the gently undulating landscape in this part of the Tetsuhara Proving Grounds.

Major Dechan Fraser watched all this on his cockpit secondary monitor. The feed was a bit shaky and periodically staticky, an unavoidable side effect of it being obtained from a hand-held camera with a very large telephoto lens. Said camera was in the hands of a 7th Kommando team member halfway up a rocky formation nearly three klicks from Complex Rho - further away, in fact, from the 1st Dismal Disinherited than Fraser himself.

Fraser was professionally impressed by the way the Plague conducted the movement (they’d adopted the 1st’s nickname after the first couple of days of this rotation in deference to how long the full title of the unit was), especially after the trials they had been put through in the preceding twelve days.

The Plague’s machines showed the wear and tear of two weeks hard campaigning - including some un-repaired armour damage - accidents still happened in training, and every surface carried a patina of the red-brown dust and dirt that covered much of the Outback.

Despite everything the Plague had been through, they maintained cohesion, and their tactical smarts were only increasing. Complex Rho was ideal ambush terrain. Indeed, Fraser’s Tarantula Company had decimated the Plague’s Third Battalion in just such a scenario last week. But the Plague had learned from their mistakes, and had flooded Complex Rho in full force this time to make a repeat of that encounter impossible.

The Tarantulas were hunkered down under sensor-reflective tarps in hide sites on the reverse slope of the next ridge that the Dismal Disinherited would have to cross on their way to the scenario objective at Hill 882.

Within the cockpit of his MAD-3WD model Marauder, Fraser heard the muffled sound of the Plague’s Air Lances sweeping low and hard over his position. The tarps did their job - the Plague did not change their dispositions as they came on, oblivious for now.

Beep.

That was the signal from a remote sensor. The Plague’s lead elements were now within 750 metres of his position.

With the bulk of the regiment safely through Complex Rho, Fraser could see half their over-watch elements leaving their positions and sprinting forward.

“All WIDOW CALLSIGNS, WIDOW-SIX. We are live. TAR-ONE, initiate at your discretion.”
“Copy, WIDOW-SIX,” Fraser replied. He switched to the company push. “All TAR, TAR-ONE. Standby to initiate.”

He looked back down at his secondary monitor. The Seventh Kommando cameraman had gone to a wider angle shot, which allowed him to see almost the entire breadth of the Plague’s deployment. He waited till there was a good concentration of vehicles and scout ‘Mech Lances within 500 metres of his position, and then hit the battalion push, in order to let them know what he was doing.

“All TAR CALLSIGNS - initiate now, now now!”

Without conscious thought, Fraser simultaneously powered up his ‘Mech, activated his sensor suite and pressed the button that would detonate a small shaped charge built into the camouflaging tarp covering his position.

Having done this many times before, Tarantula Company surged out of their concealed positions, fifteen black and red ‘Mechs in three rough chevrons converging on the left flank of the Plague.

There was little need for orders - the Black Widows ran these scenarios several times a year, to the point where it was common for Fraser to tell his company in pre-mission briefs “We’ll do it just like last time.” He suspected that Colonel Kerensky still took them on short term contracts twice a year out of sheer boredom.

Fraser swept his crosshairs across the target-rich environment in front of him, looking for anything in range.

The Plague had shaken off their initial shock at seeing an enemy force seemingly appear out of nowhere, and were now reorienting themselves to face the threat. A short company of Vedettes was closest to Fraser. He switched targeting mode from integrated to independent, and now, instead of one crosshair on his HUD, there were five, representing each of the five weapons his Marauder was armed with.

Unconsciously, he began to regulate his breathing, the way Tom West had shown him. Using both hand controllers and their hat switches, he dropped the crosshairs for his PPCs and AC5 on three different tanks and pulled the triggers as the associated crosshairs flashed green.

His cockpit became noticeably warmer as excess heat overwhelmed the heat sinks’ capacity. He ignored it, watching all three of his shots land. One of the tanks stopped moving - probably due to a wrecked track. All three fired back at him with their AC5s, for two hits to either side torso that he shrugged off.

Then the balance of his Alpha Lance opened fire, flushing over a hundred LRMs at the unfortunate tank company. Like Fraser, the rest of Alpha Lance was using independent targeting, so six out of the other seven tanks were hit - the exception having jinked hard at the last moment. Better than three-quarters of the missiles hit, which was good enough to mission-kill half the company and send the remainder racing for cover.

They would not make it - for Beta Lance pounced, emerging from behind Alpha to tear the the survivors to shreds.

With their rears thus covered, Alpha Lance plunged deeper into the enemy formation.

A two-tone chirp in his ear alerted him that hostile air was incoming, and indeed, on his HUD, he saw MechWarrior Aziz’s Crusader rock from a strafing run. A moment later, his left arm was jolted by a medium-laser hit.

“AIR-ONE-ONE inbound!” And with that, ten AeroSpace fighters, all black with red wingtips and nosecones, bounced their Plague counterparts and ended their attempts at strafing Tarantula Company as they fought for survival.

“Nice timing, AIR-ONE!” Fraser radioed while changing course slightly as he spotted a Plague Grasshopper - an obvious Company or Battalion commander’s ride from the way it was moving around the field of battle.

“GAMMA-ONE, TAR-ONE. Target Grasshopper. ALPHA and BETA, cover GAMMA,” Fraser called next on the company push.

Like twin spearheads, Alpha and Beta Lances tore through waves of tanks, IFVs and ‘Mechs, aiming to cause as much chaos as possible. Athough they had neither the firepower nor weight of numbers to quickly destroy their targets, their targeting of multiple opponents caused the Plague to advance more cautiously than they otherwise would have.

Not all the damage was one-way, of course.

“ALPHA-TREY is out!” That was Corporal Redman, voice tinged with frustration. At a glance it looked like his Thunderbolt had been the victim of a freak gyro hit.

“TAR-ONE-ONE, WEB-ONE-ONE. Mind if we crash your party?” The radio call arrived along with thirty new green icons in fifteen pairs on Fraser’s sensor display - Web Company had blown their own camouflage and were now racing in from Fraser’s right, their jump-infantry carrying Mules pacing their assigned ‘Mechs.

“Not at all, WEB-ONE-ONE,” replied Fraser as he dropped an already damaged Plague Centurion with his left PPC, while his right PPC bit deep into a Rifleman’s thigh. The Rifleman managed to tag his right torso with a large laser and an AC5 burst in return, sending his armour display into the amber range. He’d have to be careful with it.

Web Company crashed into the Plague’s partially exposed flank. Like the Tarantulas, they were shooting at anything they could get a valid sight picture on.

Fraser decided the Grasshopper was a battalion CO’s ride given the way he or she was splitting their attention between the Tarantulas and the newly arrived Webs.

With the Plague battalion facing pressure from two sides, Fraser could see the balance of the regiment reorienting to reinforce their beleaguered sub-unit. They had to move now.

“GAMMA, go!” he called as he fed another PPC to the stubborn Rifleman’s left arm, and was rewarded by seeing it go limp, while firing the other PPC and adding a medium laser into an Ontos that had somehow made it this far. To his left, Captain Simms risked shutdown by firing both her LRMs and SRMs simultaneously - the former at an oncoming Merlin, and the latter at a pair of hover APCs who were gamely taking shots at her 70-ton ‘Mech. To his right, the twin Crusaders of MechWarriors Aziz and Red Crow were standing off a medium lance. Both had taken about one-third losses in armour. Fraser knew they had enough in them for one more hard push, but that was all.

“Roger, TAR-ONE-ONE,” That was Lieutenant Nikolai Koniev, an original Black Widow, and now commander of Gamma Lance. Although composed entirely of Light ‘Mechs, Gamma Lance was anything but a recon unit. Their speciality was head-hunting, something that Koniev himself was a master at.

Fraser had found Koniev to be a “do as I do” type of leader, which he was generally fine with, but it also meant that he was often found leading the way, which was not necessarily the best place for a unit leader to be.

Right now, he was out in front again, his Firefly driving straight for the enemy Grasshopper.

Without needing a command, Beta Lance’s four survivors joined Fraser’s Alpha Lance in launching an all out assault on the increasingly heavy opposition gathering between Gamma Lance and their target.

Fraser jerked in his five-point harness as a PPC punched through the remains of his left-torso armour coverage. Reacting automatically, he slapped the “AMMO EJECT” button, dumping the remaining half-ton of his AC5 ammunition from its bin on that side of his ‘Mech, while sending his own PPC back at the offending Manticore that had attacked him.

Off to the right, Web Company’s infantry had managed to work their way forward of their supporting ‘Mechs.

The fourteen surviving squads simultaneously launched a barrage of inferno SRMs into the front rank of opposition, stalling their advance.

Momentarily distracted by the awesome sight of the flame-front created by sixty-seven exploding inferno warheads, Fraser was jolted back by a hit from an AC10 that stripped almost all the remaining armour from his right flank. A warning tone accompanied a message on his HUD “HS INOP.” As if he needed any confirmation, his next PPC volley caused his cockpit to feel like a sauna, and the heat also played havoc with his controls, causing one of his shots to go wide. The other PPC took the turret - and therefore the vast majority of the firepower - from the persistent Ontos.

But it was enough. Alpha and Beta had cleared the way for Gamma, who were now swarming the unsupported Grasshopper like a pack of hyenas tearing at a lion. The battalion commander went down hard - dropping MechWarrior Macmillan’s Locust and taking the left arm from Sergeant Chen’s Wasp - but finally succumbed.

Full credit to the Plague battalion - the loss of their commander did not cause them to collapse. There was some momentary confusion, which Fraser took full advantage of to pull back his battered company as reinforcements started arriving in numbers. Two pairs of Black Widow AeroSpace fighters helped out with strafing runs.

“WIDOW-SIX, TAR-ONE-ONE. All TAR CALLSIGNS are withdrawing toward WAYPOINT 37,” he reported as he back-pedalled his Marauder, taking shots at anyone still game to come after him.

There weren’t many of those. They were now occupied by Web Company’s jump infantry, who were down to about two-thirds strength but were well inside the Plague’s lines, attempting to kneecap BattleMechs at every opportunity. Faced with enemies within and without, it was only a matter of time.

How much time was determined by the next radio call:

“All WIDOW CALLSIGNS, WIDOW-SIX. Inbound.” And twenty heavy and assault ‘Mechs crested Ridge 5003, led by the infamous all-black Warhammer of Colonel Natasha Kerensky.

“...at which point, with the balance of First and Third Battalion Groups oriented toward destroying the remnants of Tarantula and Web Companies, Spider Company and the Widow Command Lance, task organised into two short companies, were able to effect a pincer movement, here and here, to destroy Third Battalion Group.

“First Battalion Group was unable to come to the aid of Third due to Tarantula and Web Companies combining with Widow Air containing them and the remnants of Second Battalion Group until Spider and Command finished defeating First and were able to join their comrades, finally adding enough mass to defeat Third in detail.”

Dechan Fraser watched Colonel Jeremy Ellman, the former commander of the Dragoon’s Beta Regiment and now Director of Training Command, concisely walk the tentful of officers and senior NCOs through the just concluded exercise. One end of the large tent joined the trailer section of a vehicle built on the frame of a commercial All-Terrain cargo hauler. A large holotank extruded from the side of the trailer and was providing the visuals to go along with Colonel Ellman’s commentary.

The officers of the Black Widow Battalion sat along the left side of the tent. The majority of the remaining chairs were taken up by Plague personnel, with Colonel Gordon Malik himself front and center. A few of them looked disappointed, most were taking notes. It was an improvement from the first week, when there had been many angry people in those seats. By now, they had realised the truism that you learn more from defeat than victory, and they were lapping up everything.

Colonel Ellman tried to end on a positive note. “Look, the Black Widows won, but it was a pyrrhic victory - “ There was a very audible snort that seemed to come from Colonel Kerensky’s chair. Colonel Ellman ignored it “A pyrrhic victory. You inflicted 50% losses on them.”

Fraser half tuned out the rest. He knew the form the rest of the After Action Review would take. Individual commanders would be asked to explain critical decisions they had made. Again, by this stage of the Series, the initial defensiveness would be mostly gone; Company Commanders would freely admit that, yes, they’d taken too long to react to certain stimuli, while Battalion Commanders could be heard saying that their order to Echo Company to move to Grid reference such-and-such did in fact leave said company in an untenable position.

The basic lesson they wanted the Plague to take from this battle was that while their local overwatch was great, they didn’t push out their screen far enough and trusted too much in their aerial recon to confirm that all was clear. Fraser knew that while his company had been well dug in against aerial observation, a good ground scout should have been able to recognise their hide sites at half a klick. In fact, Colonel Ellman was making just that point to the Plague’s cavalry battalion commander.

Finally after another twenty minutes, Ellman yielded the podium to the Plague’s Commander.

“Thank you, Colonel Ellman. Could I clear the room of all Dragoon personnel, please?” he asked.

Ellman nodded, and Fraser joined the small group of Dragoons in their signature light blue jumpsuits exiting the tent into the late afternoon sun. Colonel Malik customarily did this. While none of them had eavesdropped on the Colonel, they were agreed that he must have been a pretty good motivational speaker because no matter how badly the Widows and other Dragoons OPFOR beat them in a scenario, the Plague’s officer corps always came out of the AAR with their heads up and ready for more. Fraser looked forward to talking to his counterparts at the end of cycle social function that they closed the Series with to confirm this.

“I thought they did pretty well, considering,” opined Major Clavell as he lit up one of his cheap cigarettes. Fraser nodded agreement. “They didn’t fall apart much until the very end. Their subordinate leaders are really stepping up to replace casualties.”

“What do you think, Colonel?” asked Captain Ikeda as they approached the Mobile Field Base site where their ‘Mechs were being checked over.

Kerensky considered for a beat. “If they keep improving at this rate, I’d recommend AMC membership to the General,” she finally said. It was high praise from her.

And that would make… let’s see - Kell Hounds, Illician Lancers and the Lexington Combat Group - so they’d be the fourth in, thought Fraser. So it would be these four units plus his own Dragoons against the… Others.

The thought was enough to sour his mood all through the process of getting his ‘Mech (which he’d named Jenette) back to the company hangar, an hour’s worth of paperwork in his small office as twilight set in and the short walk from there back to his quarters. Along the way he had to yield to a small convoy of air cars led and tailed by MP jeeps. As distracted as he was, it was only after they had passed that he registered the middle aircar as being very similar to the one General Wolf used. The Dragoons CO did make the occasional visit to the Black Widows’ base, but he usually arrived in the morning and left by the afternoon.

It had been almost two years since Fraser had finally been let into the inner sanctum of the Dragoons. To say that he had been shocked by the revelation of the true nature and mission of the Dragoons was a tremendous understatement. Like almost everyone in the Inner Sphere, Fraser had grown up hearing tales of the long-vanished golden age of the Star League, including the one about the great General Kerensky, who had taken the bulk of the Star League Defence Force out into the deep periphery.

Intellectually, Fraser knew that the SLDF had to have undergone some changes, but the society he was told about was like something out of a bad dystopian vid.

A military autocracy. Stratification of society. No personal freedoms. Social Darwinism given life. And worst of all, with all the assuredness of the religious fanatic, the absolute belief that this was the best model for human society, and they had the right - no - the solemn duty to impose it on the Inner Sphere.

And now Dechan Fraser was working in the shadows, trying to prepare his home and way of life to defend against this perversion of the best of the Star League.

He picked at a hastily heated Quik-Eat from his small fridge, paired with a can of Pharaoh-lite beer, trying to stave off the next phase of his brooding. He knew that soon he would be thinking about Jenette again, reliving the day Michi Noketsuna had returned from his mission with two boxes. The larger contained the head of Tai-shu Samsonov, and the smaller held the ashes of Jenette Rand. Then the what-ifs and self recrimination would begin.

No.

Fraser stood abruptly as if repelling that chain of thought physically with his whole body. He needed to talk to someone - the coping mechanism he had developed.

Dumping his half-eaten meal in the garbage can, he grabbed a worn leather jacket and opened his apartment door -

Standing in the doorway, hand raised to push the buzzer, was Colonel Kerensky, looking as startled as Fraser himself probably did.

The moment dragged out, and Kerensky recovered first.

“Going somewhere?”
Fraser found his voice. “Yeah. To see you, actually.”
Kerensky looked closer at him. “Jenette,” she said.

Fraser nodded, then his mind caught up. “Wait - what are you doing here, Colonel?”

“Let me in and you’ll find out,” she replied.
“Right.” Fraser backed away from the door and Kerensky strode in, not stopping till she reached the centre of the living/kitchen area.

Fraser followed after shutting the door.

“There’s a change of plans for tomorrow,” Kerensky told him. Fraser had the Series schedule memorised. Tomorrow was Series Phase C Scenario 2. The Plague would be tasked with defending an installation against the Black Widows, who would be reinforced by a Home Guard armoured battalion and an infantry regiment.

“We got problems with Range Nine?” he asked, thinking that equipment failure was the most likely issue. It was rare, but it happened. However, a little voice in the back of his head noted that Kerensky wasn’t likely to deliver such news in person. The other shoe had yet to drop.

“No.” Kerensky looked at him levelly. “We’re still go for the scenario, but we’re moving it from the morning to late afternoon.”

“Why?”

“Because most of the battalion’s senior officers, including you, need to be at Arena Crater at 0700 tomorrow, suited and locked.”

“Is this another no-notice live-fire test?” Fraser asked, somehow knowing it wasn’t.

Kerensky shook her head, and took one pace toward him. Her face was grim. “When we brought you all the way in, we told you about the Others’ combat trials. Do you remember?”

Fraser did. “We only use modified versions of those,” he said, then remembered a detail: “That’s how Clavell got transferred into your company - he used lethal force in that - that -” Fraser groped for the correct term.
“Trial of Grievance, yes,” Kerensky supplied. “Wolf banned those practices outright after that.”
“Until now…” Fraser realised.
“Smart boy, Fraser. Yes, Trial’s been called and accepted, and you and I, among others, are going to be the witnesses.”
Combat veteran though he was, a chill ran through Fraser’s spine. “Who’s going to be fighting, and why?”

Twelve Hours Earlier

“That’s your plan? Are you insane?!” Cranston Snord heard his chair tip over and crash behind him, so violently had he propelled himself out of his seat. He felt his daughter, Rhonda, put a placating hand on his shoulder from where she sat at his side.

The target of his invective remained seated on the other side of the conference table, flanked by two subordinates. It was one of them who answered Snord’s outburst.

“Watch it, Snord,” snarled Colonel Kelly Yukinov from General Wolf’s right. Snord wheeled on him.
“Watch it? I’m not the one blindly getting behind a disaster waiting to happen, Yukinov!”

Now Yukinov came out of his chair, but before he could speak, Jaime Wolf raised a hand.

“Enough,” he said. He did not raise his voice, but there was steel in his tone. Yukinov slowly settled back in his chair, never taking his eyes off Snord.

For his part, Cranston Snord allowed Rhonda to drag him back upright. He did not sit down, however, and turned back to Wolf.

“Jaime,” he said, having taken a deep breath to calm down. “When we last met four years ago, you told me that it was almost inevitable that the Others would invade within our lifetimes. And you agreed with me that among the measures we had to take was starving them of accurate intelligence on the state of the Inner Sphere. But now you’re proposing to give them everything that Wolfnet -” he stabbed a finger at Colonel Stanford Blake, on Wolf’s left “- and the Irregulars have gathered to date.”

“There’s a bigger picture to consider, Cranston,” Wolf replied levelly.

“So paint it for me, Jaime, because clearly I haven’t the strategic foresight to see it.”

“Snord,” growled Yukinov again. Wolf was forced to wave off his Alpha Brigade commander even as he replied. “Cranston, the Others coming, whether we want them to or not. Kerlin Ward can’t stay in power forever, and we cannot assume that the Wardens will be able to keep blocking the Crusaders as skillfully as he has done. Right now, the initiative rests with them. We can only react to them.”

“So you’re getting tired to waiting for the show down? Is that it, Jaime? Or are you like Alexander the Great, now you’ve beaten everyone in the Inner Sphere, you weep that there are no more worlds to conquer?”

Snord leaned right across the table. “You’re deliberately inviting Them to attack!”

Blake spoke up for the first time. “Snord, look at the correlation of forces: there’s no way the Others have the manpower to conquer the Inner Sphere. As the old saying goes - ‘Quantity has a Quality of its own’.”

“I’m sure the families of the dead will take great comfort when you tell them that, Blake,” snapped Snord.

Yukinov rolled his eyes. “Since when did you decide that scorched earth tactics were a good way to bring us round to your point of view?” he asked sarcastically.

Snord threw up his hands. “Alright, alright. I might as well hear this out.” He turned around, picked up his chair and dropped back into it.

“Right, General Wolf, sir, - why are you poking the bear?”

Wolf suddenly looked much older. He got up, paced the length of the table and came back to stand behind his chair.

“Because the Clans are not the real threat here,” he said quietly. Off the startled looks on both the elder and younger Snord, he added “They’re a threat, and a big one, but there’s a bigger and more fundamental threat out there - actually, here.”

Rhonda Snord voiced - whispered it. “ComStar…” she hissed, sweeping her eyes over the three men before her. All looked back at her with the same grim expression. Stanford Blake gave the merest hint of a nod as she locked eyes with him.

“They worship technology, jealously guard their interstellar communications monopoly and stifle progress.” Wolf resumed pacing, but now his movements seemed to give the impression that he was his namesake stalking prey. “If they wanted to, they could repair ecologies, prevent pandemics and rebuild the devastation of the Succession Wars.” He stopped and planted his fists on the table.

“They don’t want to. And all the Successor States are sure that ComStar has actively sought to sabotage their attempts to make advances in fields that ComStar considers their exclusive domain.They’ve got their own military on top of the threat of Interdiction to shield them. People and worlds die for the sake of their megalomania.”

Wolf stood tall again. “The Wardens believe the purpose of the Clans is to guard the Inner Sphere against threats to great for them to handle. Can you think of anyone in the Inner Sphere who can handle the threat that ComStar poses?”

Cranston Snord closed his eyes for a long moment.

“I’m not saying I disagree with your analysis, Jaime,” he said slowly. “But what you want to do amounts to bringing two predatory beasts into your home and hoping they’ll kill each other instead of you.”

“I know, which is why we’ve been laying the groundwork for a hedge against that.”

“Your AMC. You think you can bring the merc community up to parity with the Clans? You’re delusional if you think so.”

“That’s only part of it,” interjected Blake, somewhat defensively. “There’s a lot of wheels in motion on this one.”

“Just means more things to go wrong,” observed Rhonda Snord.

“Be that as it may - we’re not playing by their rules anymore,” Wolf resumed. “And by that, I mean either the Clans or ComStar.”

Wolf dropped back into his seat.

“Blake is right - we have a lot of pieces to this plan. Operational security means I can’t tell you more than that right now. Your part in this involves finding hard evidence that ComStar has systematically and deliberately strangled Lostech recovery in the Inner Sphere.

“To that end, you are to end your contract with the Federated Commonwealth and sign on with Interstellar Expeditions. Their aims and yours coincide, and they have a large network of contacts that you will be able to draw on. I will assign a team from the 7th Kommando to bolster your forces.”

Wolf paused, clearly expecting Snord to say something. The pause drew out so long that Rhonda Snord eventually turned to her father.

“Dad?” she prompted.

Cranston Snord stood again, with great deliberation.

“You’re really set on this course of action?” he asked his long-time comrade.

“We have a chance to do something of worthwhile and lasting value for the whole Inner Sphere, Cranston. Yes, I am resolved to follow this plan.”

“Even with the risks that it entails?”

“Yes.”

“And you’re determined to use the Clans to accomplish your goal.”

And now Wolf merely nodded.

“And what if the Clans win? What will you do then?”

Yukinov reentered the conversation. “Damn it, Snord, you have your orders. Are you going to carry them out?”

Rhonda clearly knew what was coming, because she jumped to her feet.

“Dad!”

Now Snord cut her off. “Sit down, Captain.” He wheeled on Wolf.

“You are risking not just your command, but potentially the whole Inner Sphere on a gamble. You want to bring the Clans into this, well, we were both of the Clans originally.”

He stood tall and spoke formally. “Jaime of Clan Wolf, I, Cranston of Clan Goliath Scorpion declare a Trial of Refusal over your decision.”

The room exploded with a surprising amount of noise considering that Snord and Wolf remained silent.

Wolf let it go on for a few seconds, then slapped his hand on the table, which shut everyone up. He stood up, locking eyes with Snord.

“You’ve made your point about how you feel, Snord.”
“I don’t think I have. General Wolf, do you choose Augmented or Unaugmented Combat?”

“That’s not how a Trial of Refusal works,” objected Yukinov.

“I think I know where he’s going with this, Kelly,” Wolf said. He walked around the table until he stood only a couple of decimeters away from Snord. He had to tilt his head back a bit to look the taller man in the eye.

“I don’t want to fight you, Cranston.”
“I don’t want to fight you either, Jaime,” replied Snord, “but you’re not seeing sense, and I can’t think of another way to get your head screwed on straight.”
Wolf sighed. “Very well. If I win, you accept and carry out my orders.”
Snord nodded. “And if I win, you call off your foolhardy plan.”
Wolf jerked his head once. “Agreed. To answer your earlier question; we are both MechWarriors, I choose augmented combat,”

Snord, too, nodded. “With what forces will you defend your position?” he asked.
Rhonda stepped up next to her father. “I can guarantee that all the Irregulars will fight with you.”

Snord’s face broke from the stony glare he was wearing to a smile for his daughter. “I know they would, and it honours me more than you could know, but let’s see what Wolf offers.”

“I see no need to bring anyone else into this, Snord. I will face you alone.”

“General!” exclaimed Yukinov. “Let someone else champion you! Hells, I’ll volunteer,” he offered.

“Thank you, Colonel Yukinov, but I’m sure.”

“Very well, Jaime. Just the two of us.”

“Bargained well and done.”

Title: Re: A Reckoning
Post by: alkemita on 30 January 2018, 01:47:20

Outreach
Terran March, Federated Commonwealth
2 April 3034

Arena Crater was so named because it was the weathered remains of an ancient volcanic caldera, roughly one half eroded away to give it the look of a classical amphitheatre, but on a grand scale, fully a klick and a half in diameter.

Dechan Fraser’s black and red Marauder sat two thirds of the way up the caldera, almost dead center. Spaced at irregular intervals to his left and right were nine other ‘Mechs, half belonging to the Dragoons, and the other half to Snord’s Irregulars - all older members who were fully briefed about the real history of the Dragoons and their own Irregulars.

Below them, at either end of the half-bowl formed by the decayed formation stood two Archer class BattleMechs. On Dechan’s left was Colonel Snords’s classic ARC-2R, painted in three-tone grey camouflage, and on the right was General Wolf’s legendary gold and blue ACR-2W model.

Live-fire trials were just one of many things Fraser disliked about the Clans. But now his commander was going to duel, possibly to the death. Because of his unease with the whole situation, it took him long moments to realise that something was off about Wolf’s Archer.

Before he could look closer, his radio came to life.

“Trothkin, hearken to my words.” It was Colonel Kerensky. “I am the Oathmaster. Jaime Wolf and Cranston Snord, are you prepared to contest this Trial?”

“Yes.”
“Aff.”

“The Circle of Equals is set. The trial will continue until one combatant is unable to continue, or breaks the circle. In this solemn matter, let none interfere.”

“Seyla,” chorused eleven voices, Fraser’s among them, but slightly behind the others.

Down below, the two Archers sprang into motion, Wolf sprinting, while Snord ambled forward at a steady walk.

On paper, Snord had the advantage at distance - the Dragoon variant of the common fire support ‘Mech sacrificed three tons of armour for added short range firepower - hence Wolf trying to close the distance as fast as possible, while Snord advanced at a pace that allowed him to hold aim better.

The moment the range hit 630 metres, both MechWarriors let fly with their paired LRM-20 racks. Fraser thought that Wolf fired a fraction of a second faster.

The twin swarms of missiles crossed in flight and impacted on and around their targets. Both ‘Mechs staggered slightly as their gyros struggled to compensate for the kinetic force and the sudden loss of over a ton of armour. Snord’s barrage distributed its destruction fairly evenly across the entire torso of Wolf’s ride, and a couple of missiles had also marked the left forearm.

Fewer of Wolf’s missiles hit, but most of those that did find their intended target landed on Snord’s center and left torsos, removing almost three quarters of the protection in the latter case.

Fraser was estimating the damage by drawing on his experience. He’d been briefed that turning on his targeting sensors to gather more detailed data on the combatants could be construed as a breach of the Trial, so he had to make do with the telescopic abilities of his Mech’s vis-light cameras.

It was when he turned his lenses back on Wolf that he suddenly realised that the General was not in his usual ride. The twin medium laser mount that covered an Archer’s rear arc was missing, and the lasers mounted to its forearms were definitely larger than mediums.

In the circle, Snord now threw his ‘Mech into reverse, trying to preserve his long range advantage. Both ‘Mechs flushed their LRM batteries again. The Archer had barely adequate heat management capacity for its suite of weapons, and it showed in Snord’s case as the air around it shimmered from the overtaxed heat sinks working to dump excess heat.

Wolf’s ‘Mech, however, was still running cool, something Fraser confirmed by switching his cameras to IR mode. Something is definitely not right here, he thought as fresh missiles rained down on both combatants.

Snord again hit with almost all his salvo, pockmarking armour from high on Wolf’s centerline in a diagonal slash that ended at the squat ‘Mech’s right knee. Fraser saw Wolf throw out his ‘Mech’s right arm in order to maintain balance.

Again, Wolf scored with fewer missiles, but again, his groups were far more concentrated. Most of them hammered at the weakened left torso, and there was a sickening hollow crunch sound as some of the missiles punched through the armour into the internals. Snord’s left LRM launcher seemed to twist and sag in its mount, a sure sign that it had been damaged.

In confirmation, the ammo-eject ports on the back of Snord’s left torso sprang open, dumping hundreds of unused projectiles. Half of Snord’s long range firepower was gone.

He did the only thing he could. Assuming that Wolf was in his usual ‘Mech, Snord still had an armour advantage. He righted his ‘Mech and charged at Wolf, who suddenly stopped dead in his tracks, lifted both arms, and unleashed those over-sized lasers Fraser had noticed earlier. They bit deep into the armour on Snord’s right leg, ablating away great chunks of it. Somehow Snord kept his wounded ‘Mech upright, and even answered with his remaining LRM launcher.

But then, so did Wolf - triggering both LRM launchers on his ‘Mech. And finally, on Fraser’s display, did Wolf’s Archer show a heat spike.

Snord’s abbreviated barrage crashed against Wolf’s left and right torso. It should have been enough to almost lay the internals bare on the right side, but there was not sign of an impending penetration. A couple of missiles actually impacted the Archer’s head, but didn’t do more than rattle Wolf around in his harness.

The radio came back to life, on the open frequency. It was Snord.

“You’ve got Clantech on your ‘Mech, haven’t you, Jaime.” It was a statement of fact, not an accusation.

“Yes I have, Cranston. There’s too much at stake here.”
“Yes there is, just not in the way you mean.” Cranston sounded very tired.
“Call it off, Cranston - request hegira. There’s no way you can win.”
“That’s what you-”

Snord never completed his sentence. His ‘Mech staggered forward and then slumped gracelessly to the ground, resting on its left side.

“Cranston!” That was Wolf.
“Dad!” Rhonda.
“This trial is concluded!” Kerensky. “Medics to the fore!” she continued even as Wolf raced his ‘Mech up to his fallen foe. Fraser saw Wolf pop his canopy and exit his ‘Mech as a hover ambulance raced in from the edge of the caldera.

Mercenary Command Status Change Reports
April 3034
Order By: NAME

Benedict’s Berzerkers
Dissolved due to insolvency.
Creditors contact MRBC Dispositions Office and cite Case # 58164-34-A3X

Cooper’s Cohort
Rating Upgrade to C+

Cranston Snord’s Irregulars
New Commanding Officer: Colonel Rhonda Snord
New Name: Rhonda Snord’s Irregulars
New Employer: Interstellar Expeditions

The Eglin Legion
Rating downgrade to C

Title: Re: A Reckoning
Post by: mikecj on 31 January 2018, 00:03:59

Nicely written, thanks

Title: Re: A Reckoning
Post by: David CGB on 31 January 2018, 01:00:43

great story, well written and very interesting

Title: Re: A Reckoning
Post by: alkemita on 01 February 2018, 12:36:27

Quote from: mikecj on 31 January 2018, 00:03:59

Nicely written, thanks

Thank you. Are you finding the plot developments plausible?

Title: Re: A Reckoning
Post by: alkemita on 01 February 2018, 12:38:48

Quote from: David CGB on 31 January 2018, 01:00:43

great story, well written and very interesting

Thank you. Are you finding the plot developments easy to follow?

Title: Re: A Reckoning
Post by: David CGB on 01 February 2018, 18:00:11

Quote from: alkemita on 01 February 2018, 12:38:48

Thank you. Are you finding the plot developments easy to follow?

yes

Title: Re: A Reckoning
Post by: Daryk on 01 February 2018, 19:46:17

The heart attack (or whatever it was) was a bit convenient, but TPTB have done far worse.  Still liking the story a lot! O0

Title: Re: A Reckoning
Post by: Tegyrius on 01 February 2018, 22:24:34

But in line with published material, as I recall.  Didn't a heart attack force Cranston to hand over operational command of the Irregulars to Rhonda in the FASA canon?

Title: Re: A Reckoning
Post by: pensiveswetness on 01 February 2018, 23:07:50

Quote from: Tegyrius on 01 February 2018, 22:24:34

But in line with published material, as I recall.  Didn't a heart attack force Cranston to hand over operational command of the Irregulars to Rhonda in the FASA canon?

You are correct, sir. I'm taking a presumption that in this story, Cranston passes because of his health... we'll find out, soon enough?

Title: Re: A Reckoning
Post by: alkemita on 15 March 2018, 22:01:26

Sorry for the delay, folks. We lost most of February to a wave of stomach bugs sweeping through the family.

Anyway, enough excuses, here's an update.


Forging the Pack - The Untold Story of Wolf’s Dragoons in the Reckoning
By Drs H. R. Cowan & T. S. Choi
Pub. New Avalon Press, 3068

Every September 17th, the Rite of the Court takes place in Avalon City on New Avalon. Marked by balls, street parties and parades, it does double duty signalling the arrival of Spring and the opening of the Royal Court.

The grandest party happens at Castle Davion, attended by a significant proportion of the top nobility in the Federated Suns, as well as a few from the Lyran half of the nation since the formation of the Federated Commonwealth.

Traditionally, the ball finishes at 0304  on September 18 (why it does has been lost to time) and the court opens for business at 0900.

The three-month court season is part pagentary, part high-stakes governing, and it was for both of those reasons that a Wolf’s Dragoons delegation was on-planet for the 3038 season.

Jaime Wolf occupied an odd position in the hierarchy of the nation. He was simultaneously a planetary ruler (less the title of Earl or Duke), and a mercenary officer under contract (albeit one with an extraordinary degree of freedom).

He brought with him to New Avalon Colonels Alicia Fancher and Elisabeth Nicole, commanders of the Dragoons’ Beta and Epsilon Brigades, and Colonel Stanford Blake of WolfNet.

The four of them attended the grand ball, striking figures in their black-on-black dress uniforms trimmed in scarlet. Their presence was part of a showcase of the military might available to the Federated Commonwealth. They, and all the other military personnel, AFFC and mercenary alike, were, in effect, as much a part of the decorations as the streamers, bunting and fireworks, and their presence went mostly unremarked, with the exception of a note in the social pages expressing surprise that Colonel Fancher turned out to be a more than competent dancer and well versed in the latest court dances.

Then, also, it was widely expected that the Federated Commonwealth’s long delayed final offensive against the Draconis Combine was nearly ready to launch (some pundits were actually predicting an announcement of the offensive’s commencement during the First Prince’s opening speech on the first day of the season), and so it was more or less expected that senior military leaders would be called in for consultations.

Finally, both Colonels Fancher and Nichole were on the schedule for recognition in one of the many investitures, the former for the work Beta Brigade had been doing training AFFC forces for the coming offensive, and the latter for completing the work of raising Epsilon Brigade.

However, three days after the Rite of the Court, the Dragoons party was roused early by a messenger from Castle Davion, and brought in unmarked vans to the complex via the dedicated logistics road network that ran to the loading bays under palace complex.

Such was the secrecy involved that corridors were cleared of all non-essential staff, a non-trivial exercise during the court season, and they were personally escorted by Deputy Minister of Intelligence, Alex Mallory, whose memoirs are the source for most of what we know of this meeting.

As related back in Chapter 6, Mallory’s Special Task Force had built a fairly comprehensive picture of the means by which the Dragoons had both financed and enabled their remarkable recovery from the Fourth Succession War. Despite their best efforts, they were unable to find any indication that the Dragoons planned to turn on the Federated Commonwealth, or, almost as bad, that they intended to independently resume their feud with the Draconis Combine. It was, in fact, partially for the latter reason that the Dragoons had been left out of the roster of units slated for Operation MAELSTROM. The other reason was almost a mirror - it was feared that Combine units fighting the Dragoons would refuse to surrender and drag battles out to the bitter end.

Therefore, the STF was ordered to continue monitoring, but otherwise do nothing.

However, now that the long-planned offensive against the Combine was less than a year out, both the First Prince and the Archon considered it prudent to force the issue with Wolf, and get to the bottom of things once and for all.

The meeting took place in the Spire Office, a 190 square-meter room three-quarters of the way up the Castle Davion complex.

The semi-circular office is designed to impress, with four meter high windows separated by ornate carved columns, shelves and credenzas along the straight wall loaded with artefacts from every world in the Federated Suns.

The First Prince’s desk - the very same one used by Alexander Davion - sits on a raised platform at the far end of the room opposite the double door entrance, backed by an extra-tall window.

In the space between the door and desk are an open ring of sofas and armchairs surrounding a pair of large coffee tables, for the “informal” meetings.

The latter space was where the Dragoons party found Hanse Davion and Melissa Steiner-Davion, along with Quintus Allard.

There was some small talk exchanged and coffee poured. Wolf offered his best wishes to the sovereign couple (the news of Melissa’s fifth pregnancy had broken the week before), and Prince Davion congratulated the Dragoons on the completion of their rebuilding program.

He then used this as a segue to ask Wolf directly about what the Special Task Force had uncovered, reasoning that he had to know what was going on with the Dragoons since the bulk of the AFFC was about to be committed to battle against the Combine.

Mallory noted that Wolf was stunned by how much MIIO had managed to uncover, but recovered quickly. Colonel Blake did not seem surprised, and the other two Colonels were clearly shocked.

Mallory’s account states:

Wolf actually exchanged glances with his comrades before turning back to face the First Prince.

“Well, it had to come out sometime,” I remember him saying, in a resigned tone. That was when I became almost sure that my nightmare scenario was about to come true. Namely, that the Dragoons were waiting for Operation MAELSTROM to kick off, and use the attacks as cover for an independent decapitation strike on Luthien, possibly in concert with their AMC allies, all of whom, if you remember, had clauses in their contracts allowing them to terminate their current contracts (forfeiting fees, of course) under certain circumstances.

None of us were prepared for General Wolf’s next words.

“We have been preparing for the imminent return of the the descendants of the Star League Defence Force.”

That was the first time the secret history of Wolf’s Dragoons had ever been revealed to outsiders.

Hanse and Melissa had budgeted an hour for this meeting, but it lasted almost three as Wolf and his senior officers gave a summary of Clan history and their plans, while Allard and Mallory took frantic notes. Needless to say, their plans to confront Wolf about such matters as their appropriation of genetic material were set aside, but not forgotten.

At a break in proceedings, Princess Melissa asked the obvious question - when had Wolf been planning to tell them about all this?

Somewhat sheepishly, Wolf admitted that the plan had been to do this just before they left the court in a week’s time, on the theory that they wanted the sovereigns recovered from the frantic first few days of the Season before they dropped so large a bombshell on them.

Everyone in the room recognised that Wolf’s audaciously bold plan would shatter the status quo of the Inner Sphere. Mallory mentioned in his book desperately wanting to get Stanford Blake in front of a full debriefing team.

The immediate effect of this meeting was that the family of military operations under Operation MAELSTROM could not possibly go ahead until the implications of Wolf’s information were known, and Prince Davion issued orders through Quintus Allard for preparations to pause in place.

What happened next has become somewhat distorted in the public sphere, mainly due to director Maxine del Piero’s 3060 blockbuster Crucible of Humanity. The confusion has been compounded because even though the movie drew on many primary sources, including Mallory’s book, it often changed things for dramatic effect. Thus, it’s depiction of Jaime Wolf essentially backing the First Prince and Archon-designate into a corner with a fait accompli, while certainly memorable, is flatly wrong.

In reality, both sovereigns quickly grasped that Wolf would not be willing to reveal so much if he had not already begun activating his plan. They certainly appreciated the threat that the Clans posed and needed no reminding of the malevolence of ComStar. Mallory also noted that they were begrudgingly impressed by the contingency plans that the Dragoons had set up in case of complications.

The contingency plans, in particular, were pinpointed by Mallory as the key factor in convincing the sovereigns to go along with the plan, not, as the popular narrative has it, the sheer audacity of the primary plan.

What anger the ruling couple did express stemmed, understandably, from being kept in the dark about something that would so affect billions of lives.

There was a final aspect. MIIO and the LIC had been fighting an undeclared, but very bloody war against ComStar’s ROM for four long years under the auspices of Operation FLUSH. The Dragoon plan neatly presented the Federated Commonwealth with a potential knock-out blow, and they intended to take it.

And so, the Inner Sphere proceeded down the road to a reckoning with destiny.

Crucible of Humanity - Script Excerpt
By Maxine del Piero & Guillamane Foster
Event Horizon Productions, 3060

87 - REVERSE on HANSE & MELISSA

As Hanse slowly rises from his chair

HANSE

General Wolf, what you are proposing hinges completely on the ability of your envoy to convince an entire society to reject what they believe is their God-given right to conquer us! This is a fool’s hope if ever I heard one!

MELISSA

You are asking us to risk billions of lives on a gamble, General.

(She takes Hanse’s hand)

MELISSA (cont’d)

I find that risk to be unacceptable.

88 - NEW ANGLE on JAIME

JAIME

Your Highnesses, the risk is already there. To repeat - the Clans will come. We lose nothing in trying to change their focus. If we fail to persuade them, we are still forewarned.

89 - REVERSE on HANSE & MELISSA

They share a look. Something unspoken passes between them, and a decision is made.

HANSE

No. No, General Wolf. We… appreciate the warning you have brought us, and we will use the time we have been given to prepare our defences. But we will not tip our hand - there is military wisdom in keeping your opponent in the dark, and I will not throw away one of our few advantages.

Just so I am clear - I am ordering you to discontinue preparations for sending this envoy. Is that understood, General Wolf?

90 - REVERSE ON JAIME

A BEAT, then -

JAIME

I understand, your highness, but there is something you should know.

(DOLLY ZOOM on JAIME)

My envoy left the Inner Sphere three months ago.

Title: Re: A Reckoning
Post by: alkemita on 15 March 2018, 22:09:29

And a little bonus:

---

Extract from the MRBC Command Profiles, 3038 Edition

Wolf’s Dragoons

Overall MRBC Rating: A*

The premier Mercenary Command in the Inner Sphere almost since their arrival over thirty years ago, many considered the Dragoons to have won, at best, a pyrrhic victory in the 4th Succession War. Reduced to a single composite regiment at the end of 3029, many expected them to be eventually absorbed by the new AFFC or other Mercenary Commands. Indeed, Dragoon liaison officers on Galatea were quickly approached by representatives from other Commands in the aftermath of the war seeking to persuade individual warriors or whole companies to jump ship.

The last nine years have seen Wolf’s Dragoons completely defy expectations. As of publication, the Dragoons have not only rebuilt their pre-war strength, they have exceeded it. Some of this is attributed to their gaining control of their base world of Outreach, which has given them access to resources they never had before.

In addition, they have financed their reconstitution in several ways. Beyond traditional mercenary work, they have expanded their business relationship with Blackwell Industries, which now produces several Dragoons combat vehicle designs for general sale under licence. Furthermore, the Dragoons have taken advantage of the old Star League facilities on Outreach to offer training to other Mercenary Commands. Commands that do well in the training are offered membership in the Dragoon-sponsored Association of Mercenary Commands (AMC). As a side effect of this, enough Mercenary Commands are present on Outreach at any one time that the MRBC opened a satellite office on Outreach in 3034, providing a boost to the planetary economy, and, indirectly, to the Dragoon’s coffers. As a measure of the economic boost to Outreach, ComStar upgraded the local HPG station to Class A status in 3035.

Available Forces

The Dragoons are effectively a reinforced Division with over 100% support capacity. The core of their forces are five Brigades, each built around and named for one of their original ‘Mech Regiments and including an armored regiment, an infantry regiment and an AeroSpace Wing.

BattleMechs
Thanks to their having worked for every Successor State, the Dragoons possess designs from all over the Inner Sphere, as well as several models unique to them. During their post-war rebuilding, the Dragoons have embarked on a program of renewal and rationalisation in their ‘Mech Forces, which involves greatly reducing the number of different models in service and replacing them with new-build models, chiefly from Blackwell Industries.

Dragoons ‘Mech Regiments use Battalion Command Lances and Regimental Command Companies for a total strength of 132 machines. They include machines of all weight classes in their regiments and average out as Heavy units.

Armour
The majority of the armoured vehicles attached to the Brigades consist of various versions of the Bandit and Badger designs native to the Dragoons. Dragoons Armoured Regiments also use Battalion Command Lances and Regimental Command Companies and average out as Medium units. Most Dragoons assault-class armour has been sold off, with the remainder assigned to the Home Guard or Zeta Battalion.

Infantry
The Dragoons deploy only motorised, mechanised or jump infantry. At least one battalion in each infantry regiment is anti-’Mech trained and equipped. The Dragoons’ infantry organisation scheme is fairly conventional, with the expected command platoons at battalion and regimental level.

Where they deviate is in employing an “arms room” concept with their support weapons, made possible by their deep pockets and carrying capacity of the vehicles attached to Dragoon infantry units. Simply put, the Heavy Weapons Teams and Squads in Dragoons Infantry Battalions change their weapon loadout depending on the mission. Thus, an opponent might find themselves facing a barrage of inferno missiles in one engagement, and come under sustained machine-gun fire in the next.

Unlike most other Dragoons combat arms, the infantry generally wears camouflage appropriate to the environmental conditions they find themselves in.

AeroSpace
The Dragoons have greatly increased the number of AeroSpace Fighters in their Roster. The growth is even greater than most observers think, since the Dragoons now deploy four fighters to a Lance instead of two. Beyond the five double-strength wings attached to each brigade, the Dragoons maintain at least two, possibly three, independent wings that serve as a first-line defence for Outreach as well as taking convoy escort contracts - something the Dragoons never did before, but they seem determined to earn as many C-Bills as possible.

JumpShips and DropShips
The Dragoons maintain enough JumpShips and DropShips to move their entire combat force at once, although they have not needed to do so for years.

Since the war, they have hired out their surplus transport capacity to virtually anyone who can pay (with the exception of Combine connected entities), becoming a respectable minor player in the interstellar trade business. It doesn’t hurt that the Dragoons can offer AeroSpace Fighter and Assault DropShip support as well.

Other Forces
In addition to the brigades, the Dragoons maintain two reinforced ‘Mech based battalions, a Regiment-sized Combat Support Group, a Special Operations Force and an oversized Aerospace Fighter Brigade.

Beyond the scope of this entry are the Dragoons’ Home Guard, which is thought to include a reinforced ‘Mech Battalion, three reinforced armoured regiments and ten infantry regiments.

Tactics

Long known as elite MechWarriors, the addition of armour and infantry forces to each regiment has freed up the Dragoon’s Mech jocks to be even more effective and destructive. Although every Dragoons Brigade uses them differently, the common thread is that the armor and infantry provide scouting, protection, security and support to the ‘Mechs, who remain the main striking arm of the Dragoons.

Sub-Commands

Wolf’s Dragoons Command Battalion
Elite/Fanatical
Rating: N/A
CO: Lieutenant Colonel Dolores Montoya

Never specified for hire (hence the absence of a MRBC rating), the Dragoon’s Command Battalion only deploys in full when more than one Dragoons Brigade is involved in a contract, although all Dragoons contracts reserve the right of all or part of the battalion to join the contract.

The Command Battalion is a reinforced, combined arms unit. First Company contains two Mobile HQ vehicles and three mechanised infantry security platoons. Second Company consists of two VTOL and two ground recon Lances. Third Company contains Major General Jamie Wolf’s Command Lance plus his Bodyguard Company. Fourth Squadron is an AeroSpace unit that dual-specialises in escort and recon work.

Alpha Brigade “First Team”
Elite/Fanatical
Rating: A*
CO: Colonel Kelly Yukinov

Alpha Brigade is the Dragoon’s “high profile” sub-command, almost a parade unit, but with the skills to back up their nickname - First Team. Alpha was not declared operational until 3036 - the second last Brigade to return to the rolls. This was because Alpha only accepts warriors who have reached a certain standard - no Dragoon is ever assigned to Alpha straight out of training.

As a result, Alpha is as elite a unit as any in the Inner Sphere, commanded by some of the finest officers in the Dragoons.

Alpha paints its machines in a solid rust-red colour, often trimmed in black. Since their reactivation, Alpha’s infantry has taken to adding a strip of red-tinted fur to their helmets.

Tactics
As might be expected from a unit composed solely of veterans, Alpha is adept in the whole spectrum of combat operations. The attached armour, infantry and AeroSpace forces are invariably attached to Alpha’s ‘Mech Battalions, with the exact mix dependent on mission and terrain. As of publication, Alpha has not seen enough action to discern any preferred tactics.They have simply expertly executed whatever tactic was best for the situation they were in.

Beta Brigade “Second to None”
Elite/Fanatical
Rating: A*
CO: Colonel Alicia Fancher

If Alpha Brigade is the Dragoon’s flagship unit, Beta is their workhorse. The first Dragoons subcommand to return to active service after the Fourth Succession War, Beta spent most of the years 3032-3034 on near continuous operations, earning much needed revenue and acting as a kind of final seasoning for new Dragoons graduating from training. Although most of the unit membership remained stable through those years (less casualty replacements), the third company of each battalion in the brigade was made up of fresh graduates. After a tour, these “Pup” companies would transfer to still-rebuilding subcommands.

Beta paints its machines emerald green. Fourth Succession War veterans add a broad black flank stripe to their machines or helmets. Beta’s infantry wears a subdued green shoulder patch on their uniforms with the letter Beta in light grey (black if a Fourth Succession War veteran).

Tactics
Due to its role, Beta Brigade was the test bed for the new Dragoons Brigade organisation. Colonel Fancher’s insistence on strict discipline made her the ideal officer to oversee the new tactical doctrine.

Under her command, Beta typically forms three Battalion Task Forces consisting of a ‘Mech Battalion augmented with a company each of armor and mechanised infantry. These Task Forces methodically pin and engage their foe. The remaining armor and infantry battalions act as reserve forces, surrounding a foe or adding their firepower at decisive points.

Gamma Brigade “The Determined”
Veteran/Fanatical
Rating: A
CO: Colonel Patrick Chan

Gamma Brigade was apparently supposed to have been the second Dragoons subcommand to reactivate, but unspecified problems delayed their reintroduction to the hiring halls.

Rumours say that the senior surviving Gamma officer from the 4th Succession War, provisionally promoted to command of Gamma, proved unable to adapt to the new tactical doctrine. Certainly, his departure from the Dragoons was unexpected, but neither party has ever commented on the exact circumstances.

Another theory posits that the experience of Gamma Regiment on Harrow’s Sun during the Fourth Succession War, where they were very nearly wiped out, left the survivors poorly suited to the rebuilding process.

Whatever the reason, Colonel Patrick Chan, formerly of Alpha Regiment, was parachuted into command to rebuild the brigade from the ground up. He evidently succeeded, as Gamma Brigade was the third Dragoons Sub-command to return to the field, with four completed contracts under their belt at this juncture. Only the fact that they did not face elite opposition on any of those four contracts has kept them from achieving an A* rating - something which seems inevitable in time given Colonel Chan’s handling of his brigade - they have resoundingly defeated all their opponents to date.

Gamma uses a flat blue-grey paint scheme with navy blue highlights. Gamma’s infantry wears a navy blue shoulder patch with a letter Gamma in blue-grey.

Tactics
Gamma Brigade are the Dragoons’ combined arms tactics experts. Colonel Chan has virtually erased the boundaries between the units under his command. Gamma typically deploys as five Groups, consisting of two companies each of ‘Mechs, armour and mechanised infantry, supported by an AeroSpace Fighter Squadron.

Able and Charlie Groups are heavy formations that trade speed for firepower and protection. Baker and Dog Groups typically perform the traditional cavalry roles of recon and screening. Echo Group is Chan’s command unit and Gamma’s reserve.

Gamma Brigade specialises in grinding down an opponent. Able and Charlie Groups do this in the traditional way, using their mass and firepower to degrade their target’s ability to fight. Baker and Dog Groups like to hit and fade, sapping their opponents’ strength and overextending them.

Against heavier opponents, Able and Charlie Groups pin the enemy to allow Baker and Dog to outflank them. When fighting lighter or mobile opponents, the roles are flipped, with Baker and Dog groups pushing their opponents into position to be hammered by Able and Charlie.

Chan likes to use Echo Group as a deception force while shaping the battle, allowing his command group to be seen and distracting the enemy from what the rest of Gamma is doing. However, Echo rarely decisively engages the enemy until Chan is ready to bring matters to a head.

Delta Brigade “Swift Wolves”
Elite/Fanatical
Rating: A*
CO: Colonel Bill Paxon

The second of the Dragoons’ Subcommands to reactivate, Delta Brigade markedly deviates from the new Dragoon organisational scheme. Delta Regiment is the lightest of all the Dragoons ‘Mech units, averaging out at medium-weight and including whole companies of Light ‘mechs. The entire regiment only has slightly more than a company’s worth of heavy machines, scattered throughout the unit.

No armor is attached to Delta Brigade. Instead, a double-strength wing of Aerospace Fighters and a Jump Infantry Regiment provide support to the ‘Mech regiment, while a battalion of light artillery provides additional punch.

Delta uses a two-tone grey colour scheme for its vehicles, with white and black highlights and a prominent scarlet letter Delta. The infantry use the same colours on their shoulder patches, but in pixelated-camouflage pattern and with the Delta in a subdued maroon tone.

Tactics
As dictated by their composition, Delta Brigade specialises in raids and mobile battles. With 72 Aerospace Fighters at their disposal (a roughly even mix of light, medium and heavy designs), air superiority is usually assured, which allows them to deliver air support in such volume that the lack of armoured support is rarely noticed (Delta did have one contract failure due to extremely bad weather that kept their air support from getting through). One frustrated opponent commented that it was almost better to think of Delta as an AeroSpace Force with ‘Mech support.

Delta’s Jump Infantry are all Anti-BattleMech trained - only Alpha Brigade has more ABM trained infantry - and they habitually ride into combat on Delta’s ‘Mechs, which have all been modified by the addition of grab-bars and foot-plates to their sides and backs to allow up to a squad to be carried. Thus mounted, Delta’s jump infantry have astonishing mobility on the battlefield. Delta’s Light Lances have been known to drive right into the heart of an enemy formation in order to get their infantry as close as possible to their targets.

Epsilon Brigade “The Harrowers”
Veteran/Fanatical
Rating: A
CO: Colonel Elisabeth Nichole

The last of the five Dragoons Brigades to reactivate, Epsilon only returned to the hiring halls earlier this year, although many of its subcommands had already seen action as attachments to other brigades.

The long rebuilding process was understandable given the shocking losses endured by Epsilon Regiment in the last war, where they were reduced to a single company by war’s end. Casualties included every officer at battalion level and up, which left command to then-Captain Elisabeth Nichole, who had distinguished herself, especially at the Battle of Harrow’s Sun which has provided the nickname for the rebuilt Brigade.

Epsilon is the heaviest of the Dragoons’ line Brigades, carrying almost a battalion’s worth of assault ‘Mechs on their roster. Only Zeta Battalion averages out heavier. Epsilon also contains a complement of heavy armour and AeroSpace fighters.

Epsilon uses a tan colour scheme on its machines, with a gold Epsilon inside a black square. Their infantry has recently started to paint a pair of yellow wolf eyes on their helmets.

Tactics
Despite their mass, Epsilon prefers to stay mobile, using feint-and-move tactics that were Nichole’s speciality in the last war. The unexpected side effect of doing so with heavier machines is that Epsilon can keep up these stinging attacks for far longer than normal, and the added firepower means that an enemy commander will find their combat power being rapidly attrited even as they are pulled out of shape by feints and probes along multiple axes.

Epsilon uses its armour to lay down suppressing fire for its ‘Mechs to get in and out, while holding their mechanised infantry in reserve to cover their own flanks and maintain links between the battalions. Two companies in each infantry battalion are Anti-BattleMech qualified.

Zeta Battalion
Elite/Fanatical
Rating: A*
CO: Colonel J. Elliot Jamison

Arguably the BattleMech exemplars of the brute force approach, Zeta Battalion has long been the Dragoons’ trouble-shooter unit, using mass and fires to overwhelm their opponents. Although their frontal charges have earned them the reputation of a “suicide” unit, each member is actually a highly skilled volunteer, and their casualty rates (except in the case of the commanders) is in line with the rest of the Dragoons.

In the aftermath of the Fourth Succession War, Zeta spent four years bolstering the rebuilding Home Guard, even transferring some of their older BattleMechs to them.

When they finally returned to the field in 3035, they showed that they had lost none of their potency in series of missions attached first to Beta, and then to Delta Brigade.

Like the Black Widow Battalion, Zeta has been re-organised as a reinforced, combined arms battalion.

The core of the Battalion remains its three BattleMech companies - Red, White and Blue, now boasting 15 machines each. Red and White companies field assault class ‘Mechs exclusively, while Blue Company contains two lances of heavy ‘Mechs. Colonel Jamison commands from a separate Command Lance of 5 assault machines.

The first addition to Zeta is Green Company, which fields heavy tanks like the Manticore and Patton. In accordance with Dragoon doctrine, these tanks are used as fire support. Like the BattleMechs of Zeta, Green Company is reinforced to 15 machines.

The second addition to Zeta is Ebon Squadron, 12 heavy AeroSpace fighters.

Zeta uses a steel-grey paint scheme, with highlights in the colour of the machine’s parent company (the Command Lance uses gold highlights).

Zeta Battalion is never hired out on its own.

Tactics
Zeta’s tactical doctrine is simple - find a weak link or critical point in the enemy’s position or formation, aim the entire battalion at it, and attack. Their success comes from their skill at identifying where and when to attack, something that most opponents neglect to consider.

Black Widow Battalion
Elite/Fanatical
Rating: A*
CO: Colonel Natasha Kerensky

The most infamous of the Dragoons’ sub-units has always combined skill with tactical innovation. Despite spending the majority of the last decade attached to the Dragoons’ Training Command, Colonel Kerensky has kept her battalion’s edge sharp by taking two or three short term contracts per year, usually, but not always, in support of other Dragoon deployments. Their 100% success rate in these contracts more than amply justifies their MRBC rating.

Like Zeta Battalion, the Black Widows are organised as a reinforced, combined arms battalion, but differs in having infantry rather than armor embedded.

Specifically, Web Company includes a company of infantry alongside its ‘Mechs, and a 7th Kommando team is attached to the battalion.

The Black Widows use a black colour scheme with red highlights - the exception being Colonel Kerensky’s all-black Warhammer.

Tactics
The Black Widows have historically fought independently and at a numerical disadvantage. This has shaped them into battlefield deception experts. They use a variety of methods for gaining local fire or numerical superiority to defeat their opponents piecemeal. They are also adept at long-range head-hunter missions.

---

AMC Journal
Volume III, Number 3, July-September 3037

Features

It’s the Logistics, Stupid: Just-in-Time Supply as a Force Multiplier

Lt Col Kumar Sangakarra & MSgt Patricia Pugh

Regaining Freedom: How one Command Broke Free of the Company Store

Capt Jynessa Swon

Maximising Your Training Return from the Series

Maj Helena Mattoli

The Shipka Campaign: The 12th Vegan Rangers in Operation Rat

Capt Patrice Logan, Sgt Yu Shang & Sgt Bart Warner

Interview: Master Contract Negotiator Callie Veljanoska, Part 1

Maj (Rtd) Graeme Bulger

Tapping Local Experts: Tips for establishing Intel networks downrange

MSgt Omali Zento & SSgt Amber Hideko

Can Mercenary Infantry Be Effective in Heavy Combat?

Maj Zepheniah Ferris-Bellinger & Lt Michael Timoshenko

Departments
Editor’s Column: Lt Col Margaret Tulliver
Letters to the Editor
State of the Market - Contracting Trends, Q2, 3037
Adapt, Improvise & Earn - Hacks and Tips

Title: Re: A Reckoning
Post by: pensiveswetness on 15 March 2018, 23:38:36

so it's not COMSTAR that starts O:R but the Dragoons themselves... maybe. :D

Title: Re: A Reckoning
Post by: alkemita on 16 March 2018, 12:13:08

Quote from: pensiveswetness on 15 March 2018, 23:38:36

so it's not COMSTAR that starts O:R but the Dragoons themselves... maybe. :D

Maybe is probably the best assessment of how this is going to go down.

Title: Re: A Reckoning
Post by: mikecj on 16 March 2018, 13:43:13

I'm waiting for the FC & Dragoons hit Terra.

Title: Re: A Reckoning
Post by: pensiveswetness on 16 March 2018, 20:28:44

NOOOOOOOOOOOO............. Dragoons will cause O:R... and the attack vector is all of DC space, completely avoiding FC worlds unless its totally unavoidable.

Title: Re: A Reckoning
Post by: alkemita on 16 March 2018, 22:31:07

Quote from: mikecj on 16 March 2018, 13:43:13

I'm waiting for the FC & Dragoons hit Terra.

So would I, but that might be a little... premature.

Title: Re: A Reckoning
Post by: alkemita on 16 March 2018, 22:33:11

Quote from: pensiveswetness on 16 March 2018, 20:28:44

NOOOOOOOOOOOO............. Dragoons will cause O:R... and the attack vector is all of DC space, completely avoiding FC worlds unless its totally unavoidable.

I think there's already a BT Fanfic out there with a similar premise. But you've raised a good point. I've not talked about the state of relations between the Dragoons and the Combine. Maybe that's something I have to work in somewhere.

Title: Re: A Reckoning
Post by: DoctorMonkey on 17 March 2018, 08:22:03

is it wrong that I want to read the other articles in the AMC Journal Volume III Issue 3?

Title: Re: A Reckoning
Post by: DoctorMonkey on 17 March 2018, 09:20:14

Here is my attempt at one of the articles...

It’s the Logistics, Stupid: Just-in-Time Supply as a Force Multiplier
 
Lt Col Kumar Sangakarra & MSgt Patricia Pugh
 
The age-old aphorism is that amateurs study tactics and professionals study logistics but all too few mercenaries appreciate this from the ground up if they lack training from one of the more conceptually advanced nation-state militaries.
 
For almost a thousand years there have been two core concepts of logistics which even interstellar travel have failed to change significantly, the key feature largely being rapid communication and to some extent transport. Industries and organisations will normally choose between Just-in-Time logistics and Just-in-Case logistics. Militaries have traditionally opted for Just-in-Case but that can prove expensive for a mercenary force and there can be space for some Just-in-Time opportunities.
 
First, as an introduction, we will outline the conceptual framework for logistics, which can be seen as a two-by-two box:
 
                                       Linear usage                      Exponential usage
Essential


Non-essential


The other main consideration for a military force is that the enemy can and probably will try to actively obstruct or interfere with your logistics just as you will theirs.
 
An example of a vital but linear usage item or category of supply might be food and water – the amount needed by the troops will not alter greatly between garrison and training or operations. On the other hand, ammunition and fuel usage will rise exponentially in combat and is vital or one risks being unable to fight. Non-essential but (largely) linear usage items might be uniforms or toilet paper.
 
Over-arching both JiT and JiC logistics is push and/or pull – does the unit in need ask for or pull an item from higher echelons or can the higher echelons anticipate or push the item forward? Normally there will be multiple levels of this and some will push while others pull. A robust communications network is vital to allow these exchanges to occur.
 
The ability to understand and anticipate combat force needs is why military logistics is a core component of military operations and the practitioners of it are soldiers.
 
For your core requirements, such as ammunition, field repair supplies and other high combat consumption articles, no military logistician will follow a Just-in-Time policy but the same communications network and organisation that allows these to be stockpiled and brought forward rapidly when needed can also support Just-in-Time supply for non-essential materials.
 
As an example, supply of garrison and dress uniforms for a mercenary force can easily be outsourced to third party clothing manufacturers who can hold a template of your uniforms and manufacture rapidly when they are needed from common stock that they can either hold or buy in from a cloth maker rather than holding a large supply of everything from XXS to XXL of all items.
 
Similarly, a unit in garrison might hold little in the way of generic components or spare parts for non-combat vehicles at their motor pool and instead procure these commercially as any other user of a fleet of such vehicles might. The increased individual cost per item would be offset by not having to hold excess stock and store/transport it.
 
An analysis of the underpinning logistics control and communications systems required for both Just-in-Time and Just-in-Case logistics systems will be the subject of the next in this series of articles in the next issue.

Title: Re: A Reckoning
Post by: alkemita on 17 March 2018, 13:53:01

Quote from: DoctorMonkey on 17 March 2018, 08:22:03

is it wrong that I want to read the other articles in the AMC Journal Volume III Issue 3?

Not at all - I wanted the contents to sound interesting.

Title: Re: A Reckoning
Post by: alkemita on 17 March 2018, 13:54:07

Quote from: DoctorMonkey on 17 March 2018, 09:20:14

Here is my attempt at one of the articles...

Oh wow :o

Never expected my fanfic to inspire other writing. Thanks.

Title: Re: A Reckoning
Post by: DoctorMonkey on 18 March 2018, 03:43:14

Quote from: alkemita on 17 March 2018, 13:54:07

Oh wow :o

Never expected my fanfic to inspire other writing. Thanks.

I'm not sure I can write many of the other articles although possibly the battle report from the 12th Vegan Rangers


The logistics one I might be able to continue

Title: Re: A Reckoning
Post by: alkemita on 19 April 2018, 23:46:06

Waypoint EXETER
Deep Periphery
6 June 3038

Natasha Kerensky was not a patient person. Although she had disciplined herself over a lifetime of military service to tolerate waiting, at least on a campaign there were timelines, deadlines and targets to hold to.

This was the furthest thing from a military campaign. She was floating down the central corridor of the Lion-class DropShip Powell, which was docked to the Wolfs Dragoons JumpShip Wanderer, itself floating at the nadir point of a star with only an alphanumeric designation instead of a name. On secret charts known only to a handful of Dragoons, this was Waypoint EXETER.

They had been here for three days, waiting for a rendevouz. In another three days, the Powell would have finished recharging, and if their contact had not turned up, the Powell and her impatient passenger would be returning to Outreach, to try again in six months, at another obscure star with another codename.

Kerensky really hoped it wouldn’t come to that. The system was simple. Ten stars, two of which would be visited each year in a rotating cycle as part of the Clan Wolf Watch’s regular scouting of the periphery. The Dragoons had orders to leave information and material they wished to send back to the homeworlds at these stars. It was the only link they still had to the Clans.

Without thinking about it, she found herself at the hatch to the cargo bay. She’d already come here three times today. With a disgusted snort, she pushed back off the wall, intent on going somewhere else. But where? She’d already visited the bridge twice, and she knew she made the crew nervous. The mess deck had been graced with her presence also, her slot in the gym schedule was still four hours off, and she had no reason to be in engineering.

With a sigh, she arrested her backward movement by gripping a convenient handrail, then propelled herself into the cargo bay. Most of it was packed with provisions, but lashed to the deck on one side was a special cargo pallet - Natasha’s destination.

Locked into the frame of the pallet were hundreds of brick-sized boxes, stamped on the outside with sigils and labels.

Kerensky made her way with assurance to the far side of the pallet and pulled herself up to a box on near the top of the middle-third of the pallet, smoothly coming to a stop in from of the one that bore a Clan Wolf emblem and the label:

Star Captain Joshua (Wolf)
81-OA65014-32B

There were so many boxes, each containing the cremains of almost every Dragoon warrior and dependent who had died since they entered the Inner Sphere in 3005. Some of their comrades had fallen in ways and places that made their physical remains unrecoverable, but they were afforded a box nonetheless.

Kerensky had known almost all of them. Very well in most cases. But Joshua - Joshua had been special.

She didn’t speak aloud, she didn’t even form coherent thoughts. She simply stared at the little box with its label while a range of emotions and memories roiled in her.

She heard the cargo bay hatch open again and popped her head up over the pallet as Dechan Fraser floated over it to her side.

“Colonel,” he nodded as he settled in next to her, looking for the box a few above Joshua’s. The one that said:

Star Commander Jenette (Rand)
03-YQ33988-00X

“Major,” she replied as they floated side by side, otherwise silent. The visits to what they privately called “The Monument” had started the day they lifted from Outreach, and by now they had said all they wanted to say.

They were not the only ones to come here. Many in the crews of the Powell and Wanderer had also known some of the people whose remains were now cradled here, and they visited too, but for some reason, usually not when either Fraser or Kerensky were here.

Several minutes passed. As they floated, Fraser’s knee bumped Kerensky’s shoulder.

“Sorry,” he offered.

Kerensky grunted. “Still nothing out there?”

Fraser shook his head. “They’d have called us.” He put out a hand to check the twisting motion imparted to his body by the head-shake. “You want to go another round in the sims?”

“You’re a glutton for punishment,” snorted Kerensky.
“You’ve got about a century’s lead piloting OmniMechs on me,” Fraser shot back with a grin
“Steady there, whelp,”
“And besides, I’m closing the gap,” he finished.
“That’s such a load of-”

“Colonel Kerensky to the Bridge at the rush. Colonel Kerensky to the bridge at the rush,” barked the intercom.

Kerensky and Fraser traded a glance, and then pushed off for the door.

Less than a minute later, they arrived on the bridge, which was bustling with activity.

Captain Vernon spun his chair, to which he was locked by a five-point harness..

“We have an E-wave. Wanderer is reorienting to give our guns optimum clearance,” he jerked his head toward the viewport, where the stars were slowing shifting.

“Ten seconds to emergence!” called the painfully young sensor chief.

The bridge hatch opened again and Susan Tulliver entered. The third member of their little party, Tulliver was no warrior, though she had family in service with the Dragoons. An anthropologist and historian, she had charge of the terabytes of data on the Inner Sphere that they carried.

“Is it them?” she asked.

“Emergence!” announced the sensor chief somewhat redundantly as a flash of light briefly whited-out the viewport.

“Silhouette unknown!”

“Did you use the Enhanced Warbook?” snapped Captain Vernon.

“Er… no, sir! Sorry, sir. Running Enhanced Warbook now, sir!”

“Kids,” Captain Vernon grumbled under his breath, but Fraser was close enough to hear him.

“ID one Hunter-class Jumpship, hauling a Confederate-class Dropper. No IFF.”

“Thank you, Sensors.”

“Wanderer is challenging,” reported the CommTech.

Fraser, Kerensky and Tulliver crowded the viewport. The tiny-looking block shaped Hunter was starting to deploy it’s jump-sail, the near-sphere of a Confederate-class DropShip breaking the lines on one side.

Fraser was no expert on JumpShips, but having spent an appreciable fraction of his life in space, he knew his share, and he was certain he’d never seen the design before. Tulliver did voice his unspoken question.

“Yeah, Hunter-class. Unique to the Clans,” Kerensky confirmed, before Captain Vernon called her back.

“Colonel, our unknown is identifying herself at the Torvald Sælgeflåde ship Ståndaktig,” he finally got out, tripping over the unfamiliar pronunciation.

“If that’s a Jarnfolk trading vessel, I’m the Magestrix of the Canopians,” snorted Fraser.
“You don’t have the pins for it,” Tulliver commented, sotto voce.

Kerensky floated back to Vernon’s side.

“Tell Comms to put me on,” she said. Vernon nodded to Comms “Make it so,” while passing Kerensky a spare headset.

“Channel open, Colonel,” confirmed Comms momentarily.

“Presumed Clan Wolf vessel, authenticate GRANITE NINER GOLD,” she broadcast.

There was static for almost a minute. Fraser and Tulliver turned to watch Kerensky. As the ranking officer, it was all up to her.

Then, just as Fraser was about to say something, the static cleared:

“Powell, Clan Wolf Ship Hou Yi authenticating ZULU ZULU QUEBEC. Please transmit a transfer manifest.”

Fraser let out a breath, noting that the same thing seemed to be happening all over the bridge.

“Tulliver, give Captain Vernon the master manifest for transmission. Fraser, with me. Captain Vernon, I’m going to need to borrow a couple of your spacers.”

“Understood - Comms, page Chief Carnegie to Cargo-One, please,” agreed Captain Vernon as Tulliver slid up behind the CommTech and the two Dragoons officers left the bridge.

Half an hour later, Fraser and Kerensky stood by one of the Powell’s airlocks. The Hou Yi had dispatched an ST-46 shuttle. The arrowhead-shaped craft had docked with the Wanderer and now the Clan Wolf party was transferring to the Powell.

“Sorry I’m late,” muttered Tulliver as she pulled up behind the pair. “I was double checking the-”
The airlock status light changed to a steady green. A moment later, the heavy hatch hissed open, and Fraser saw live Clanners for the first time in his life.

The leader was a disappointingly ordinary man seemingly in his late forties. A pair of ugly scars crossed his shaved scalp. He wore what Fraser had been told was the utility uniform of Clan Wolf, and he bore the rank of Star Captain.

The man swept the corridor with practiced eyes, then floated out of the airlock, pivoted slightly to face Kerensky and brought his right arm up across his chest in salute.

“Star Colonel Natasha Kerensky, I am Star Captain Mulligan of the Clan Wolf Watch.”

“Star Captain,” nodded Kerensky, returning the salute.

Behind the Star Captain, three more members of his team entered. Even though Fraser had been briefed, it was still startling to see the petite pilot with her overly large head and eyes, followed by the pair of giant Elementals (the shorter of the pair stood about 210 centimeters) and both were muscled to the point of caricature. The two infantrymen carried half-rifles right out of history, but kept them pointed at the deck.

“Forgive me, Star Colonel, but we were not expecting to take on passengers,” the veteran intelligence officer continued. “There will be a slight delay while we open up a spare cabin.”

“That’s fine, Star Captain,” Kerensky nodded - and Fraser caught the Clanners wincing a bit at Kerensky’s use of a verbal contraction. Watch your words, he reminded himself.

“In the meantime, I would like to verify the manifest, with your permission, Star Colonel,”

“Of course, Star Captain,” Kerensky continued agreeably, and pivoted in place to head back to the cargo bay.

Once back inside the cargo bay, Tulliver took the pilot and Elementals to the pallets containing duplicate copies of their database, plus hard copy elements and physical samples.

Kerensky and Fraser led Mulligan straight to the Monument. The Star Captain pulled up short, awed by the size of the pallet and its contents.

“So, this is it,” he whispered reverently.
“Yes,” said Kerensky. “The Codices and Giftakes of four hundred and seventy-seven members of the Wolf Dragoons Reconnaissance Force, returning to the Homeworlds.”

---

Brunnel, Caph
Addicks Operations Area, Draconis March
Federated Suns
19 July 3039

“Second Battalion, keep pushing!” snarled Sho-sa Seiichi Saito over the battalion push. He could sense the enemy perimeter faltering here. The tan-coloured ‘Mechs and armoured vehicles of the Wolf’s Dragoons Epsilon Regiment had held stoutly until now, but the relentless attacks of the Ryuken-san was shifting the momentum and initiative away from the mercenaries, and he could see little signs that his foe was rattled - here a tank shooting hastily, there a ‘Mech stumbling as it tried to move to a better position - and he knew they had to go now, before the Dragoons managed a recovery.

As he knew they would. All too well.

Saito had been a Chu-i in the original Ryuken, had trained alongside the Dragoons, and had fought them at Misery. He knew them doubly well, and they, him, for they had fought both together and against each other. Misery had left a bitter taste in his mouth, less because the Ryuken had been defeated by the Dragoons, more because it had been like brothers forced to fight each other.

And thanks to yet another intelligence failure, he was once again grappling with the Dragoons.

Caph was meant to be a raid for the Ryuken-san, partnered with their sister Ryuken-ni regiment. It was the third of four planets targeted by them as part of the DCMS’s desperate bid to stem the invasion of the Dieron Prefecture.

They’d been told that the world was garrisoned by the Third Crucis Lancers RCT, a solid unit, but not likely able to stand against two Ryuken regiments and their supporting forces.

Thus it had come as a major shock when, just after driving the Third from the field, their aerospace forces reported over twenty DropShips burning in on sub-orbital trajectories originating from the opposite side of Caph, carrying Beta, Gamma and Epsilon Brigades of the Dragoons.

Although the commanders of the two Ryuken regiments had calmly adjusted their plans and prepared for the turn of events, chaos erupted on first contact with their old trainers.

It was the younger members of the Ryuken, those who had not fought in the Fourth Succession War, who nearly caused disaster by leaping out ahead in order to come to grips with the Dragoons, who had defeated their regiments a decade previously. It had taken considerable personal intervention by company, battalion and regimental commanders to regain control of the situation (a rumour had even made the rounds to the effect that a company commander had executed one of their own busoshensi for ignoring an order to get back in line, but no one seemed to know any specific names or units).

In the end, it was only because the Dragoons apparently had the same problems with their newer members that allowed the Ryuken to break contact.

Forced on the defensive, the two Ryuken regiments had vigorously defended a gradually shrinking perimeter for the past six days, but the correlation of forces was adverse to start with and getting worse. Only their intimate knowledge of the Dragoons had allowed them to avoid outright defeat so far. Just the day before, one of Saito’s company commanders had realised that elements of Gamma Brigade were herding his battalion out of position just in time for him to reinforce the weakening flank and repel the real attack.

Unless the Ryuken did something different, they were destined to die on this hot planet that was most notable for having wildlife that resembled ancient Terran dinosaurs.

So Tai-sas Johnson and Kansa had decided to do just that. They would effect a breakout, with the less-damaged Ryuken-san acting as the Rupture Force while Ryuken-ni held the perimeter and launched deception attacks to obscure where the real breakout was going to occur. Once they had broken out, they would rendezvous with their own DropShips which had been holding in orbit, and lift from this world.

Saito’s Second Battalion found itself at the tip of the spear, thrusting at the section of the perimeter held by Able Battalion of Epsilon Brigade. It might have seemed counterintuitive to target the heaviest of the three Dragoons brigades, but they knew that with Elizabeth Nichole in command, Epsilon did best on the offence, and were willing to bet that they would not like being forced to back up.

So it was proving as Saito suited action to words, pushing the throttle of his Grand Dragon to the stop, his ‘Mech surging to eighty-five kph, the ‘Mech-sized sashimono flag bearing his personal mon (emblem) flying proudly from the pole attached to the Grand Dragon’s rear armour. Around him, the remaining twenty-six members of Second Battalion, many carrying their own sashimono, came on like a dark wave out of legend as they aimed for the lines of infantry, armour and ‘Mechs wearing the gold Epsilon.

Proving Ground 9, Hotei
An Ting, Matsuida Prefecture
Draconis Combine
10 August, 3025

“Alright, alright, one more time,” conceded Lieutenant Thomas West. He turned back to face the south side of the small circle of Dragoons and Ryuken troops that had gathered in their temporary laager at the end of the day’s training. Chu-i Seiichi Saito saw that the Dragoons uniformly wore expressions of wry amusement, while his DCMS comrades maintained inscrutable faces for the most part.

Standing a meter from his comrades on the edge of the ring, West shifted his weight slightly, let out a breath, and dropped his hands to hang loosely at his sides, the right one just brushing the grip of his laser pistol.

“Ready,” he announced.

Twenty meters behind him, on the opposite side of what was now an open circle, Saito stooped to pick up another of the almost spherical, grape-sized red-brown pebbles that were sprinkled throughout this part of the Hotei continent.

He paused a moment, then heaved the pebble into the air, calling “Draw!” simultaneously.

Thomas West, the fifty-five year old commander of the Medium Lance in Fraser’s Company, spun with the reflexes and agility of a man half his age, his right hand clearing the laser pistol from its holster and coming to firing position in one smooth movement, almost too fast to follow.

Pistol followed eye as West tracked the barely visible pebble, which had just passed the apex of it’s flight and was now being reclaimed by gravity.

A split second later, West fired, and the pebble became a puff of dust, some of which kissed Saito’s face as it fell.

Amidst the cheers and sounds of astonishment from the audience, West straightened and reholstered his pistol, raised his hand to acknowledge the crowd, and strode toward Saito, who was ruefully shaking his head as he closed the distance.

“Five from five, Chu-i,” he announced matter-of-factly when he reached the Combine officer and the pair of them resumed their seats on the left foot of Saito’s Dragon. He liked the young officer. The personnel in the experimental Ryuken regiment had been picked for their willingness to learn and a certain social flexibility, which West and his comrades had found refreshing. Since they had entered the employ of the Draconis Combine two years previously, it was continually made clear to them that mercenaries like themselves were often considered only a step above bandits.

“Be glad there was no money riding on this, Chu-i,” said Captain Dechan Fraser as he walked past with most of the other MechWarriors, since it was clear that the show was definitely over now. “I’ve seen him do that seventeen times in a row before.”

“Are you going to see Captain Rand, Dechan?” West called to his company commander’s back. Fraser didn’t look back, just raised his right hand with the middle finger extended and kept walking. West threw back his head and laughed.

Saito muttered something in Japanese that West didn’t catch, but he was smiling too. The DCMS officer reached behind his back and snagged a pair of electrolyte-laced drinks, the ones gulped down by overheated and parched MechWarriors everywhere in the human sphere.

“Arigato,” West accepted one gratefully, cracking the top and downing a full third of the bottle in one gulp.

“You’re welcome,” replied Saito as he aped West’s chugging of the neon-green fluid. “So,” he continued when he had finished drinking, “West-san, your Griffin” - he inclined his chin to point at where the BattleMech stood in the embrace of a mobile servicing scaffold - “is named ‘Nova Cat’. Why that name?”

West took another drink, regarding his ride. Alpha Regiment generally used a reddish-brown paint scheme, but like about a quarter of the MechWarriors in the regiment, he’d modified the scheme. In his case, the lower part of the limbs remained reddish-brown, but the torso and upper limbs were midnight blue. In the centre of the chest was a black, snarling cat’s face, backed by a gold and red starburst, with the name written in a white scrawl below it.

“It’s a reminder about my birthplace,” he said finally. Saito nodded solemnly. The Dragoons only rarely mentioned their pasts, and never in detail.

“What does it signify?” Saito asked next. West cocked his head, looking up to the sashimono flying from the back of Saito’s ‘Mech, emblazoned with a stylised spiral star in red and blue.

“Something like your Clan’s mon,” West answered cryptically.

“Is that -” he began, only for West to cut him off.
“I’d prefer not to discuss that, Saito-san,” he said, not unkindly.

Saito bobbed his head. “I was actually meaning to ask if that was where you learned to shoot so well,” he explained.

“Actually, yes,” the grizzled mercenary said, still seemingly far away.

Brunnel, Caph
Addicks Operations Area, Draconis March
Federated Suns
19 July 3039

“They’re breaking! Press on!”

Pure adrenaline fueled Sho-sa Saito’s shout.

Second Battalion was down to a score of effectives, but they had savaged one Dragoons ‘Mech company and almost two each of armour and infantry. The remains of another armour company were retreating, shepherding a handful of Badger IFVs.

As he watched, his opponents were desperately trying to reform their lines and close gaps. At his eleven o’clock, Busoshensi Henderson delivered the coup de grace to a disabled Rommel tank with his Panther’s ER-PPC.

At two o’clock, Tai-i Tanaka was leading the survivors of his Medium Lance against a pair of battered Dragoons Enforcers. Saito drew a bead on the less damaged of the pair and fired both his ER-PPC and LRM-10 at it. His shots hit lower than he intended, thanks to the staggering heat-load he had already placed on his machine. It was still enough to amputate the enemy ‘Mech’s right leg just above the knee, which constituted a mission kill.

Saito forced his way forwards, the Grand Dragon moving sluggishly from the heat. A stray flight of LRMs clipped his right shoulder, and HUD changed the armour status of that limb to amber, leaving no part of his ‘Mech in the green.

The Dragoons were falling back, ‘Mechs and vehicles interspersed with IFVs and infantry on foot, trying to gain the protection of the next ridge.

Saito could see the balance of the Ryuken-san coming up fast behind him, and he knew the -ni would be hot on their heels as they collapsed their perimeter.

The way forward was clear - and then over a dozen new THREAT icons lit up his HUD.

Reinforcements! They’ve reacted already!

“Yon-company! On me! Go- and Roku-companies, continue original line of advance!”

He wrenched the Grand Dragon to the right, joined by the seven survivors of Fourth Company. He felt his ‘Mech accelerate as heat levels dropped.

The sensors had now nailed down the new enemy force as thirteen-strong, moving in four distinct sub-groups. That meant the remains of a company, with a separate command lance. So, the Battalion Commander knows how serious this is.

Range counters spun down with alarming speed, and suddenly, the first of the new enemy force crested the ridge - a pair of Hoplites.

Henderson welcomed the one on the left with his ER-PPC, while Busoshensi Goldman tagged the right one with his Phoenix Hawk’s Large Laser.

Then the Dragoon Command Lance came over the ridge - three ‘Mechs strong - a BattleMaster on the left, a Zeus on the right, and in the center -

Snarling cat’s face backed by a red and gold sunburst, over a field of midnight blue that covered the entire torso and upper limbs, fading to tan at the lower end of the limbs. Beneath the cat, a name in a white scrawl: “Nova Cat II”.

It was a Warhammer, not a Griffin, and there were several flat grey armour patches that ruined the paint scheme, but there was no question who the MechWarrior driving it was.

Saito shook his head violently inside his neurohelmet, grit his teeth and cleared his head. Somehow, without realising it, he’d slowed almost to a stop. With an inarticulate snarl, he reopened the throttle, driving straight for the man he once considered a friend.

A friend, yes, but now he was the enemy, and duty demanded his death.

But all the Ryuken veterans knew who had turned the Dragoons into their enemies, and they were all dead.

Wrestling with his joysticks, he dragged his crosshairs right onto the center of Thomas West’s ‘Mech, but hesitated even as the crosshairs flashed green to indicate a valid lock.

The Warhammer pivoted slightly to face the oncoming threat, and Saito saw the long barrel arms come up to point at him. But West didn’t fire either.

They both held like that for a moment, then two, then -

The BattleMaster loosed a shot from its PPC, catching Saito’s Grand Dragon squarely in the middle of the torso. Saito worked to keep his footing, even as, almost at the same time, Chu-i Ozawa, riding another Grand Dragon, hit West’s Warhammer in the left leg.

By pure reflex, Saito switched targets, returning fire with interest by blasting more than a ton of armour from the chest of the BattleMaster, which staggered out of line as its MechWarrior fought to keep his ride upright.

Saito saw that West had lost little of his gunnery skill with age - Ozawa’s Grand Dragon tumbled over courtesy of twin hits from West’s PPCs that destroyed the left hip.

He shifted left, determined to get to grips with the BattleMaster before it regained its equilibrium, but before he could finish aiming, a scarred Stalker in the colours of Third Battalion pulled up alongside him and unleashed a barrage from its LRMs and Large Lasers.

The assault ‘Mech drove forward, scenting blood as the BattleMaster lost its balance and fell, literally shaking the earth.

The Warhammer interposed itself between its fallen comrade and the onrushing Stalker, paused for a beat, and then spat twin blue-white spears of charged particles into the larger ‘Mech. West managed to find a gap in the Stalker’s battered armour - it lurched and staggered like an armless drunk, clear indication that the gyro was gone - before doing a belly-flop a mere hundred metres from West.

Saito had already shifted his Zeus, drawing a bead on the assault ‘Mech’s oversized canopy, but his shots were absorbed by a hastily raised left arm, which, did, however, result in the destruction of his opponent’s LRM launcher.

“Sho-sa! Almost all of the regiment has broken out! Ryuken-ni is now passing through!” reported Tai-i Tanaka as he moved his Shadow Hawk up to join Saito.

Saito blinked away sweat from his eyes and glanced at his secondary monitor where the status of Second Battalion was displayed. Half a dozen more fallen, he was down to fourteen ‘Mechs, but if he disengaged, West’s fresher and heavier forces could collapse the breach.

There was only one decision he could make. He punched up the regimental command frequency.

“Saito to Tai-sa Kansa.” He fired his Medium Laser and LRMs at the Zeus, trying to keep his heat under control, missing with the Medium Laser and achieving a bad spread of hits with his LRMs.

“Saito,” rumbled the deep bass of the regimental commander. “What’s your status?”

The Zeus speared his left wrist with the improved Large Laser that many of the Dragoons seemed to be equipped with, turning his Grand Dragon’s sole hand into so much junk metal.

“Second Battalion is down to one-third strength. We need to hold this flank or the Dragoons will close the gap.”

Tanaka jumped his Shadow Hawk to the Zeus’s left, pouring in an alpha strike on the wounded Epsilon brigade ‘Mech.

Saito took advantage of his opponent’s distraction to similarly hit the assault ‘Mech with his own Alpha Strike, gasping at the sudden blast of heat that flooded his cockpit.

“Hai - I concur, Sho-sa. You honour the Ryuken. Kansa out.”

Saito couldn’t reply - he was trying to avoid a reactor shutdown, maintain control of his battalion - what was left of it - and think ahead.

Before him, the Zeus finally fell to accumulated damage, its pilot managing to eject just as the mortally wounded ‘Mech tipped past 30 degrees.

Tanaka deftly stepped back to avoid the falling ‘Mech -

-and was impaled by a precisely aimed PPC shot that blew through Tanaka’s weakened front armour and explosively vented out the back, dropping the Shadow Hawk next to the corpse of the Zeus.

Saito wheeled his battered Grand Dragon left to confront Tanaka’s executioner, even as his primary display lit up with fresh gold icons approaching his position. Most of the red icons were moving swiftly toward the rendezvous point, under the shelter of Draconis Combine Admiralty fighters launched from inbound DropShips.

Limping toward him was Thomas West’s one-armed Warhammer, his unique paint scheme almost obliterated by damage, but still recognisable.

Behind him lay the remains of Ryuken ‘Mechs - many of them. With a start, Saito realised that he was the sole active member of Second Battalion.

It was almost as if he could read sadness and resignation into the movements of West’s ‘Mech.

With deliberation, they brought their weapons up and dropped their crosshairs on each other, pulling the triggers almost simultaneously.

Title: Re: A Reckoning
Post by: alkemita on 19 April 2018, 23:49:01

Tamworth Chronicle - Op Ed
Alcor, Skye March, Lyran Commonwealth
27 November 3039

As I write this, the guns have been silent for six days. Six days since the curtain came down on the largest military operation in the human sphere for a decade.

Six days since the Archon and First Prince declared an end to the the aptly named “Operation Maelstrom”, for a maelstrom it certainly was.

The Lyran Commonwealth Armed Forces and their comrades in the Armed Forces of the Federated Suns have liberated ten worlds from the Draconis Combine, and beaten off counterattacks from the same, as well as opportunistic raids from the Free Worlds League and the remains of the Capellan Confederation.

Yes, we have claimed victory over our hated foes.

Yes, we should rejoice that no more of our brave sons and daughters will be dying on planets no one has ever heard of.

And yes, transport conglomerates and other businesses will be looking forward to getting back to normal business.

But - and you knew there was a “but” coming - I can’t help feeling a little underwhelmed by it all.

With apologies to my younger readers (yes, I do have some according to the most recent GIllam’s Poll), what comes to mind is Valentina Jilani’s 3011 hit song, You mean that’s all there is?

Unless I somehow spent the last half-decade in an alternate dimension, I believe I’m correct when I say that we were all expecting a repeat of the last war - by which I mean, we were expecting to add a huge chunk of Draconian territory to what will one day be the Federated Commonwealth (I still hate the name, by the way).

Sure, no one expected it to be easy, after all this is the Draconis Combine, not the Capellans.

But!

We assembled even more troops than we did for the Fourth Succession War, and most of them ended up pulling garrison duty.

We invaded the whole Dieron Military District, bloodied some of the best the DCMS had to offer (including, it’s rumoured, entirely new formations), carried away megatons worth of production and resources, and then -

We withdrew from all but ten worlds!

We didn’t even keep Dieron!

We actually took almost as many worlds from the League as we did from the Combine, and they were never even a target until they rashly decided to attack us.

The last three months of the war - half of it - was spent on the defensive, beating off DCMS and FWLM attempts to retake those worlds.

In the end, we’ve gained a slightly expanded corridor between our two states, ironically mostly at the expense of the League, not the Combine. We’re flinging cash at every transport company in the two states to help relocate hundreds of regiments, nearly half of whom didn’t even fire a single shot in anger.

I can’t help but get the feeling that we got cold feet and didn’t finish the job. There’s going to be a cottage industry in “what ifs” arising from Operation Maelstrom. At a minimum, the Combine has been hurt, but the wound is hardly mortal, and we’re going to have to do this all over again down the road.

So what happened? Could it be that Prince Davion has turned timid in middle age? Did the Archon, as one rumour has it, secretly oppose the whole affair and used martial pressure to bring the whole thing to an early end? Was this all a Machiavellian scheme to ensure the LCAF and AFFS retain a core of battle-hardened troops?

The only surety in all this is that we certainly haven’t been told the full story.

---

UXTPS://AMCnet.mil/forum/forums/members/toolbox/

Advice Appreciated - New Battalion Command

Maj. Emilia Tzu (Wolf’s Dragoons)

Hello everyone,

This forum has always been a great source of advice throughout my career, and I’d like to tap your collective wisdom again.

I’ve just been promoted to Battalion Command due to combat casualties. Fortunately, I’ve been a Company CO in the same battalion for the past couple of years, so I know everyone and am leaning on my senior officers and NCOs.

We may have more combat ahead of us, and my predecessor was much respected and loved by the troops. We also lost quite a few ‘Warriors, some permanently.

I have a pretty good grasp on where we stand as far as readiness goes, and the regimental CoC has been very supportive, but I’m wondering what else I could to to make sure we’re in top shape.

Any advice, comments, etc will be greatly appreciated.

MSgt Tobias Pulaski (Eridani Light Horse)

Firstly, congratulations on the promotion and new command, Major Tzu.

Secondly, my condolences for your losses.

If you came up in the same battalion, I’m sure you already know who your pillars are and are listening to them.

Your troops will probably want to be kept busy, and I’m sure you have lots of work for them since you’re reconstituting.

I don’t know what you Dragoons do for pastoral care, but you might want to remind your NCOs to keep an eye on the troops and make sure they get what they need to cope. We have some awesome chaplains in the ELH - if you have anyone similar over there, make sure the troops know where to find them.

Colonel Helena Mattoli (Illician Lancers)

Let me echo MSgt Pulaski’s first two points.

It’s always tough taking over in a war zone, but knowing the Dragoons, they wouldn’t have given you the job if you weren’t ready.

You sound like you’re already doing many of the right things. Keep talking to your CoC, both upwards and downwards.

You’re not a Company CO anymore, so resist the temptation to leap into every fight. You can do more good staying out of the unnecessary combat, as unnatural as that will feel for a while.

You’ll probably want to train as hard as your situation allows for, both to integrate any replacements you might get, and reconstitute your battalion CoC.

Lastly, make sure you take care of yourself. I learned this the hard way - if you get too tired to function, you’re no good to your troops.

Good luck, Major - Battalion Command is the best job in the regiment!

Title: Re: A Reckoning
Post by: mikecj on 20 April 2018, 01:37:31

Very well written!  Thanks for sharing.

Title: Re: A Reckoning
Post by: alkemita on 20 April 2018, 22:03:38

Quote from: mikecj on 20 April 2018, 01:37:31

Very well written!  Thanks for sharing.

Thank you. This chunk of story was an utter bastard to write - this is version five or six, and I'm still not happy with some of it, so from your reaction, I hope it's just a case of being too hard on myself.

Title: Re: A Reckoning
Post by: ckosacranoid on 25 April 2018, 11:38:03

Cool story and different, but what happened to cause the daddy's to only do this change instead of really laying the dragon out.

Title: Re: A Reckoning
Post by: alkemita on 25 April 2018, 16:40:33

Quote from: ckosacranoid on 25 April 2018, 11:38:03

Cool story and different, but what happened to cause the daddy's to only do this change instead of really laying the dragon out.

I'm not sure what your question is - are you asking why the Dragoons aren't taking advantage of having rebuilt faster in this TL to go after the Draconis Combine?

Title: Re: A Reckoning
Post by: Fyrwulf on 08 May 2018, 00:17:40

Oh no, did West die?

Title: Re: A Reckoning
Post by: alkemita on 08 May 2018, 07:36:52

Quote from: Fyrwulf on 08 May 2018, 00:17:40

Oh no, did West die?

Yes, Thomas West is dead. He was actually supposed to die earlier in the story, but it felt somehow contrived then.

Shifting his death to this alternate War of 3039 worked a bit better and allowed me to show the continued development of the AMC and the progress of the first generation of Dragoons sibkids

Title: Re: A Reckoning
Post by: alkemita on 06 October 2018, 22:53:33

New Sarepta, Tranquil
Clan Wolf Territory
May 28, 3039

Well, that went downhill quickly, thought Fraser, his first coherent thought in several seconds as he fought back from the brink of unconsciousness.

As his vision cleared, he saw the big Elemental he’d been fighting reach down to grab his arms, swatting aside his ineffectual attempts to resist. Blood ran freely from the giant warrior’s nose, some of it dripping onto Fraser’s somewhat dishevelled jumpsuit. He didn’t mind so much - he was actually grimly satisfied because the almost-certainly broken nose was his doing, courtesy of an perfectly timed head-butt he’d landed.

The monstrous genetically-engineered infantryman hauled him almost upright, manhandling him to an elaborate chair. Fraser’s legs didn’t seem to be working so well right now - he supposed it was the second (or was it the third?) ridiculously powerful punch he’d taken that had desynchronised his sense of balance.

The Elemental looked him in the eye as he forced Fraser right back against the seat. “You have heart, Spheroid, I will give you that,” he said. Without taking his eyes off Fraser, he barked “Scientist! What is your status?”

A more normal sized man appeared in Fraser’s peripheral vision. He was limping and rubbing the side of his head as he replaced his spectacles on his face. He shot Fraser a murderous glance through a grimace of pain.

“Nominal, Point Commander Jamal. I can carry out my duties,” he all but snarled as he tried to shake off the kick that Fraser had landed on him.

“Then do so,” ordered the Elemental as he tightened the last of the restraining straps around Fraser’s limbs.

“There should have been more security for this,” grumbled the scientist as moved off.

“Not possible - this is too sensitive,” retorted the Elemental as he worked.

“I want to speak to the manager - your hospitality sucks,” Fraser tried to inject some defiance into his tone through his split lips, but he was losing the internal battle against fear. Knowing that the Clans might interrogate him was one thing, actually undergoing it was another. He jerked against the straps holding him down, but that big bastard knew what he was doing.

There was a hum as motors transformed his chair into a flat surface. The scientist reappeared on his right side, precisely inserting two IV lines into his arm. He moved to the opposite side and applied sensor patches to his left forearm, temples and neck before vanishing from view again.

“Calibrating dosage for height, weight and metabolism,” came the voice of the scientist somewhere behind his head. “Beginning initial serum flow.”

Fraser felt a rush as the drugs entered his system.

Oh, shit...

---

Their stay aboard the Hou Yi had lasted almost a year as the Clan Wolf Watch vessel made its way back to the Clan Homeworlds. The monotony of the journey was only occasionally broken. At one stop, they tapped a deep space HPG relay to send off a coded transmission. At another, a minor fault with their JumpShip’s sail deployment mechanism necessitated a series of EVAs by the crew.

Through it all, Fraser and Tulliver redoubled their studies of Clan Culture and the Clan Military. For Tulliver, assuming she survived the experience, there might a published book or two in the future.

For Fraser, he studied and practiced as if his life might depend on it - which it might.

Finally, the Hou Yi had detached from her JumpShip at the planet Tranquil, which was almost the furthest planet in the Clan Homeworlds from the Inner Sphere, but it was also the only world that was completely controlled by Clan Wolf.

The burn in had been the most unpleasant part. They averaged a 1.6G deceleration over the four day transit, which meant long periods at 2G with occasional breaks at 0.5G. It took a toll on even the experienced spacers.

They had grounded late at night, at the far end of the spaceport, and been whisked away in an electric cargo hauler that had driven right into the Hou Yi’s cargo hold to get them.

Finally, after about an hour’s drive, they had been deposited at a second floor apartment located in an isolated wing of what Star Captain Mulligan said was the Headquarters of the Wolf Watch.

Fraser had not been impressed with their lodgings - despite being a four-bedroom suite, the common areas were roughly the same size as his previous digs on Outreach. However they made do, claiming a room each and getting their first good night’s sleep in a week.

The next morning, they were startled awake by the harsh door buzzer announcing Star Captain Mulligan’s return, with three tablets in hand full of questions for them to answer. Fraser had to laugh when he powered on his tablet to discover numerous forms meant to process him into Clan society. It seemed that as superior as the Warrior Caste was in Clan society, even they had to yield to bureaucracy.

That was pretty much the pattern for the day. Mulligan would appear with more forms to fill out, leave something that they had been issued, rinse and repeat, with the occasional meal thrown in. The food was only a marginal improvement over what they had eaten aboard ship. When Tulliver had complained about it, Natasha simply replied “Now you know why the Warrior Caste is so pissed off all the time.”

By the end of the day, they were all tired of forms, but at least they had some new clothes.

All three wore the same basic tan and brown uniforms, lavishly adorned with cargo pockets. Surprisingly lightweight combat boots shod their feet. The differences lay in the details. Tulliver’s bore mauve-bordered white patches at the collar and shoulders - designating her as a member of the Social Sciences sub-caste of the Scientist Caste, assigned to the Clan Wolf Touman (military).

Fraser’s collar patches were solid olive green squares, and the Clan Wolf emblem appeared on a patch on his right shoulder. Attached to his left breast pocket was a blood-red star with eight points. The lowest point was fully four times the length of the others, and the colour marked him as a MechWarrior.

Natasha had all those embellishments and more on her uniform. Her collar patches carried the three red stars of a Star Colonel’s rank, and on her left arm was the patch of Alpha Galaxy over that of the 328th Assault Cluster - her final assignment in the Touman before joining the Dragoons. In addition, two thin strips of wolf fur were attached to the tops of her shoulders.

When it was all over, Fraser and Tulliver had futilely tried to make their late supper more appetising, before they retired for the night.

The next morning, feeling a bit better, they were just finishing breakfast when the door buzzer sounded.

“They don’t want us having any downtime, do they?” grumbled Tulliver as she got up to answer the door.

It was Star Captain Mulligan again, but he only had two tablets with him this time.

“For Susan and Dechan,” he explained, handing them over, before coming to parade rest for Kerensky.

“Star Colonel, you have been summoned to a meeting with the local Galaxy Commander,” he told her.

Kerensky exchanged glances with Fraser, then gunned down the remainder of her mediocre ersatz coffee.

“Hold the fort,” she told Fraser as she stood and followed Mulligan out the door, her mouth twitching ever so slightly as she heard synchronised groans behind her when her companions thumbed on their tablets.

“What’ve you got?” Tulliver asked Fraser.

“Questions about my combat experiences,” Fraser replied as he tapped in answers with a stylus. The predictive text was Clan-quirky in its word suggestions, but he’d become somewhat accustomed to it and would be fine as long as he took things slowly. “You?” he asked in turn.

“More questions about Inner Sphere socio-political structures,” she frowned as she read the next question. It was clear from the phrasing that the Clans were beyond naive when it came to understanding how the Great Houses of the Inner Sphere remained in power. She’d answered numerous variations of this question already and still -

The buzzer sounded again. Tulliver turned to Fraser.

“Your turn,” she said pointedly. Fraser dropped his tablet and stylus on the table and got up.

It was an Elemental Point Commander.

“MechWarrior Dechan - come with me,” was all he said.

“Hold the fort, Susan,” Fraser called back over this shoulder as he followed the hulking warrior down the hall.

---

Kerensky followed Mulligan down a number of corridors and up two levels in an elevator before reaching an unmarked set of double doors. Mulligan knocked on the door, paused, and then opened them, gesturing for Kerensky to enter first, which she did, striding past the Star Captain and turning left -

“Great Father - it is you!” exclaimed the woman standing beside the conference table that dominated the room.

“Cyrilla Ward!” Kerensky gasped in stunned surprise, then crossed the room rapidly to wrap up her sibmate in a bear hug.

“Tasha! Let me look at you,” said Ward as they broke the hug.

“And look at you - Galaxy Commander Cyrilla Ward!” Then Kerensky squinted a bit as she noticed an additional badge on Ward’s uniform. “You were a Khan? Unity’s sake! I leave for a couple of decades and everything goes to hades!”

As they laughed, Ward guided the pair of them to adjacent seats at the conference table.

There was a moment’s pause where Kerensky and Ward looked at each other, then they both started speaking at the same time:

Kerensky: “So how did you-”
Ward: “Why did you -”

They all chuckled, and Kerensky waved a hand at Ward.
“You’re senior - you go first.”

“Alright. And your language has deteriorated terribly in the Inner Sphere, Tasha,” Ward accepted. She looked away for a second, then locked eyes with Kerensky.

“You were not supposed to come back, Tasha,” she said, with some steel in her voice. “That was the agreement between Kerlin Ward and Jaime, quiaff?”

“Quineg. There was no such agreement,” countered Kerensky. Ward looked disappointed.

“Tasha, this is me, quiaff? I was elected saKhan to Kerlin in order to make sure the Wardens maintain supremacy in Clan Wolf. He told me about the last meeting he had with Jaime and yourself.”

Kerensky slumped a little in her seat. “I’m sorry, Cyrilla. Yes - Aff - there was an agreement, and, aff, I’m breaking it, but we’re holding our cards very close on this one, for security reasons.”

Ward waved away the apology. “Yes, I know. Star Captain Mulligan was very put out that you refused to do any debriefing on the voyage home.”

“He’s a Ward? He’s good at keeping secrets,” Kerensky opined.

“I should hope so, for the sake of my Bloodhouse,” Ward replied.

“So, you are the Bloodhouse Leader now,” Kerensky offered it as a flat statement of fact.

Ward shrugged; “The rewards of surviving so long,” and then, with a pointed look at her friend “You could hold the same position for House Kerensky now too.”

Kerensky snorted in response. “Can you really see me negotiating for advantageous genetic pairings?”

“No - not really. And you have been out of the loop for so long - it would take months to bring you up to speed.”

“Right - so let’s start with something simple. What happened to Ellis and Johan?”

Ward leaned back in her chair, recalling the fates of the other two sibkin who had passed their Trials of Position alongside Kerensky and herself.

“Ellis made Star Captain, but never managed to pick up a Bloodname nomination. So two years after you left with the Dragoons, he died in a Grand Melee for a Carew Bloodright. Johan did get nominated for a Shaw Bloodright, but was killed by the Falcons before the Trial could take place.”

“Well, so it’s just you and me once more,” said Kerensky. She took a drink of water and turned back to Ward, who rearranged herself in her chair and speared her old friend with a look.

“I have a million questions to ask you, but I do need an answer for why you have returned, Tasha,” she said.

Kerensky matched the look. “Who are you asking for? Yourself, or whoever the Khans are now?”

“Aff. You are not naive enough to believe that in the circumstances we will take anything you say at face value, quiaff?”

“Of course not. I just would’ve preferred that they didn’t send my oldest friend to do it.”

“I volunteered.”

“I see.”

“And now that we’ve established that - why are you here, Natasha Kerensky?”

Kerensky let the silence drag out for a couple of seconds.

“To tell the Clans that it’s time to return to the Inner Sphere and be the saviours of humanity.”

Ward went very still, holding her gaze on Kerensky’s unflinching eyes.

A beat passed, then two. Ward blinked first.

“Tasha - have you become a Crusader?” she demanded.

“What? No - neg! How did you get that idea!?” Kerensky frowned.

“Because Crusaders like to use that ‘saviours of humanity’ line, remember?”

“Oh,” Kerensky actually looked chagrined. “I forgot - so many damned years ago…” She shook her head and raked a hand through her hair.

“So, perhaps you should start by explaining what saving humanity means to you.”

Kerensky’s eyes flicked up to meet her sibmate’s gaze.

“Rilla - I’m… I am no scientist, and I am certainly no politician,” there was a certain emphasis on that word that Ward heard loud and clear “but the greatest problem faced by the Inner Sphere is not the fighting between the Successor States…” Kerensky scowled as Ward’s eyebrow made a valiant attempt to ascend into her hairline.

“Oh, come on, Rilla, who are you going to believe? Sibko tales or someone who’s lived there for the past thirty five years?”

“I apologize, Tasha. It just seems… so counter to everything we - I - have always accepted about the state of the Inner Sphere.”

“Well, you’ve seen the database we brought back with us, quiaff?”

“I have skimmed the summaries.”

“So you know that in most of the Inner Sphere, people are not dying of starvation, or living in concentration camps.”

“It does appear that way, aff.”

“Damnit, Rilla, I’m trying to help the Warden cause here - give me a break. Hells, talk to Dechan and Susan - they’re Spheroids and they’ll tell you the same thing.”

“We will.” Ward took another drink. “Anyway, you were saying before my skepticism interrupted us?”

“Right,” Kerensky accepted the offer of truce. “The biggest threat to the Inner Sphere is LosTech - that’s their term for decline in technology since the fall of the Star League. It’s not just in the military arena - and our database will give you the details on that.”

Kerensky shifted in her seat again. “During the Dragoons’ time in the Lyran Commonwealth, my unit was briefly stationed on New Exford. One day a group of us went down to the beach at some coastal town whose name I can’t remember.

“The town had a little harbour, and the breakwater had a walkway on top of it. We went out on it because the view was good, and then we noticed that the seawall was made up of atmosphere processing units - you know, like the ones the Widowmakers used to make Roche livable?”

Ward nodded. “The fifteen meter tall ones that barely fit through a cargo hatch on a DropShip.”

“Right - well, imagine hundreds of those sophisticated machines dumped end-to-end in the sea and joined together with concrete and metal ties, to make a breakwater.”

“What a waste. What happened?”

“Well, one of our group, Master Tech Paulus, asked around in the town afterwards, and the story goes that during the Star League era, there was a factory assembling those atmo-processors just outside the town. In the chaos of the First Succession War, they lost the ability to make some tiny critical component, and were left with hundreds of units that didn’t work. So they just pushed them into the sea to use them as a breakwater.”

Off Ward’s expression, Kerensky stuck in the punchline. “Every planet in the Inner Sphere has stories like that, Rilla. And because they lost all this technology, entire planets depopulated or died.”

“So they bombed themselves back to the stone age. How is this relevant?”

“Because in the centuries since the fall of the Star League, all the Successor States have made earnest efforts to recover this LosTech, but there’s a deliberate campaign to stop them doing so.”

Ward’s eyes flicked down to a tablet that Kerensky hadn’t even noticed was turned on. “The campaign is led by ComStar, correct?”

“Aff, Rilla.”

“And what do they gain from stopping technological recovery?”

“Power, of course. By maintaining their monopoly in interstellar communications and advanced technology - well, advanced to the Inner Sphere, anyway - they intend to reunite the Inner Sphere under their control.”

“And their control of the HPG network makes it impossible for any of the Scavenger Lords to challenge them,” concluded Ward.
Kerensky nodded. “And that’s why they made you a Khan - you see the big picture.”

“I may see it, but that does not  mean I necessarily agree with Star Colonel Jaime’s plan,” Ward tapped the screen of her tablet, and then flicked up her hand to forestall the objection from Kerensky.

“Tasha, you must have known that you will need to win the political battle first. The Khans will not consider this… scheme until everything you have brought us can be verified.”

“Aff, Rilla. I guess I shouldn’t have expected to land a first-shot victory like a surat of an Ice Hellion,” Kerensky conceded mostly with good grace, although she was unable to prevent a pout forming on her face.

Ward smiled. “You could have sped up the process by answering Mulligan’s questions on the journey here. Now we have to interview all of you quickly so that we can make a case.”

“Damn it, Rilla, well, let’s get started!”

“Already done, Tasha - we are talking to Dechan and Susan as we speak - you have no objection, quineg?”

“Neg. We have nothing to hide, and they’ll just confirm the information we brought back with us.”

“Good. The Watch will interview you after they are finished with your subordinates - presumably so you can provide clarification.”

She stood abruptly, and Kerensky automatically followed suit.

“It is so good to see you again, Tasha,” she said with real feeling. Kerensky found she had an unexpected lump in her own throat.

“And you too, Rilla,” she replied softly, as her oldest friend unexpectedly enfolded her in another hug.

Ward broke off with a sigh. “Unfortunately, I do have other duties. Even an under-strength second-line Galaxy generates mountains of paperwork.”

“I understand, Rilla.”

“Neg, you would not unless you have experienced it,” chuckled Ward. “But I would like to see you again, perhaps at 1900 tonight. We can talk over dinner.”

“Yes - aff - I’d like that Rilla.”

“Excellent - I will send someone for you.”

“Until then,” Kerensky turned and opened the office door, calling over her shoulder as she walked out “Enjoy the paperwork!”

---

The apartment was empty when Kerensky returned, as she expected. She was sure that the Watch would have plenty of questions for her companions, and they didn’t get to talk to Spheroids very much.

There was a new tablet on the table waiting for her - of course - and she picked it up with a sigh to work through the questions on it.

She was considering question thirty-three when the apartment door abruptly opened, and two Med-Techs entered, wheeling a stretcher between them.

On it lay the unmoving form of Dechan Fraser, pallid-faced except for where an impressive black eye was forming, hands bandaged and jumpsuit stained with blood and vomit.

Kerensky jumped up, tablet clattering to the floor.

“What happened!?” she demanded, following them.

The Med-Techs wheeled Fraser into his bedroom. “He had a delayed reaction to the serum,” the senior one explained as they moved Fraser to his cot. “We administered a counter-agent. He will be fine.”

“Serum? What -” began Kerensky, and then the realisation hit her with the full force of a PPC.

Taking a single long stride into the room, Kerensky grabbed the grey-haired woman by a convenient arm.

“He was narco-interrogated?” she demanded in a deadly whisper.

“A-aff, Star Colonel,” stammered the Med-Tech, chilled by the look in Kerensky’s eyes.

With a primal snarl, Kerensky shoved the Med-Tech away from her, spun on her heel and charged out of the room.

She narrowly missed bowling over a third Med-Tech who was guiding a wheelchair containing a shivering, sweat-soaked Susan Tulliver into the latter’s bedroom.

Sidestepping past the pair, Kerensky marched out of the room.

---

Cyrilla Ward’s stylus paused over the screen of her tablet and she lifted her head. There was some sort of commotion in the outer office -

Her office door crashed open violently. Natasha Kerensky stormed in, her face set in the stone mask Ward recognised from sibko days.

Without realising it, she had stood up to face the challenge.

“You narco-interrogated them!” Kerensky slammed both fists onto Ward’s desk, making everything on it bounce. Behind her, Ward could see the face of her aide peeking around the doorframe. She waved him off.

“Tasha! Control yourself, Star Colonel!” Ward deployed her command voice. It didn’t work.

“What the ****** were you thinking, Rilla?” Kerensky leaned across the desk.

“What is going on, Tasha? Why are you so upset?” Ward, with some difficulty, kept her voice level. Tasha always had a knack for getting under her skin, all the way back to sibko.

Kerensky jerked back upright. “Why am I so - ?” She slapped her forehead. “They volunteered for this mission! We came back freely! And you tortured them!”

“I carried out my duty, Tasha,” Ward replied, with a puzzled look on her face. “I told you we needed to verify your story, and you agreed -”

“I didn’t agree to you shooting up my team with truth serum and chemically torturing them!”

Ward lost it. “Aff, Tasha - aff, you did! That is how we verify intelligence in the Clans! The Khans will expect it, and I do my duty.” Now Ward stalked around the table to stand toe-to-toe with Kerensky. “Or had you forgotten that as well?”

Kerensky’s face darkened from its angry red to a dangerous purple. “I’ll show you how much I’ve forgotten - Cyrilla Ward, I demand a Trial of Grievance in this matter!”

“Denied, Tasha. You are not thinking clearly.” Ward turned and got back behind her desk. “Return to your quarters, calm down and -”

Despite combat-honed reflexes, Ward was blindsided by Keresnky’s throwing herself across the table, crash-tackling her into the back wall of the office.

“Fight me, you ****** bitch!” screamed Kerensky as she struck Ward in the face while straddling her..

Ward grunted from the blow, then set her legs and toppled Kerensky.

At that moment, a pair of Elementals appeared in the room and grabbed Kerensky, but it took a few moments to get her under control.

Ward took a deep breath to calm herself, hiding a wince as she gingerly touched what was almost certainly a fractured cheekbone, and then turned to the Elementals.

“Star Colonel Kerensky is to be confined to quarters until further notice.”

She looked at the still-furious Kerensky, who at least was not actively trying to break free right now. “Tasha, I will not press charges this time, but you really need to think about whether your actions are helping your mission.”

She nodded to the Elementals, who marched Kerensky out of the the room in a relatively gentle fashion while Ward uprighted her chair and sighed.

---

Forging the Pack - The Untold Story of Wolf’s Dragoons in the Reckoning
By Drs H. R. Cowan & T. S. Choi
Pub. New Avalon Press, 3068

By the beginning of 3040, it was becoming clear to ComStar’s First Circuit that something had shifted in their intelligence shadow war with the Federated Commonwealth.

Although ROM was as aggressive as ever in seeking out attempts by their FedCom adversaries to attack ComStar, there was a rapidly diminishing rate of return for their efforts.

MIIO and the LIC had switched tactics after the FedCom-Dragoons Alliance, hunkering down and taking a defensive stance against ROM’s efforts to sabotage R&D efforts. They were being surprisingly successful at this, and worries began to grow within ROM that the FedCom had somehow made a leap forward in their analysis of the Helm Memory Core. This leap was actually due to the Dragoons, but ROM did not yet know that.

What they did know was that their view of FedCom R&D efforts were becoming increasingly opaque, and what they could still see was worrying.

Even worse, they had less insight into the status of FedCom research into HPG technology than ever. For obvious reasons, HyperPulse Generation research was among the most closely held secrets of every Successor State. There were well established “red lines” in ROM’s standing orders about how far they could allow such research to proceed before ComStar must take drastic, irreversible action.

At some point in January 3040, Charles Seneca, Precentor ROM, had to conclude that he could not say with certainty where the FedCom was in relation to those red lines.

He therefore assembled his division heads for a classified briefing on February 1 on the grounds of the Sandhurst Academy on Terra...

Camberley, United Kingdom
Terra (ComStar Protectorate)
February 01, 3040

Charles Seneca liked to think that he adhered to the old maxim “all things in moderation.” It had certainly helped his intelligence career, first in SAFE and now in ROM.

However, moderation was not on his mind this morning as he crossed his expansive office in this ancient building. Once, it had been the Commandant’s Office when Sandhurst had been the premier military academy for the long-gone British Empire.

Now it was his, in his capacity as Precentor ROM. One of the nice things about such an old office was the built-in drinks cabinet along one wall.

Opening it, he addressed his companion over his shoulder.

“I know it’s early, but will you join me in some scotch?”

“I think I can make an exception, this time,” sighed Precentor Blessing Laurent from her chair. The commander of Blake’s Wrath, ROM’s feared Special Operations forces, looked anything but fearsome, her small frame slumped in an overstuffed armchair - a perfect reproduction of the thousand year-old original that once sat in this office.

Seneca returned with two tumblers, passed her one, then settled into the twin to Laurent’s chair.

Laurent took a sip of her scotch, then levelled her dark eyes at her superior.

“We have a problem, no?”

Seneca took a much larger gulp of his drink, and grunted assent.
“I would say we have several problems,” he admitted.

The briefing they had just come from, held in the most secure conference room ROM possessed, had not gone well.

Seneca had spent the last couple of years trying to break down the information silos that the different divisions of ROM contained. In the past, the tight compartmentalisation of information had not been much of a problem. But things were changing, and ROM needed to be able to see the complete picture.

He’d called the briefing as a forcing function, to get the heads of the different divisions to lay out what they knew about the FedCom’s current R&D efforts, only to find Wolf’s Dragoons and their associated entities popping up everywhere.

None of the division heads, individually, had made much of the mercenaries’ involvement, because it seemed only peripheral in their own area of interest. But once everyone laid their cards on the table…

“What concerns you the most?” asked Laurent.

Seneca cupped his chin in his free hand. “Just the number of unknowns in all this,” he finally said. It was an uncomfortable position for an organisation used to reading everyone’s mail.

“What about you?” he turned the question around.

Laurent sat up in her chair. “From an operational perspective, that weapons mount Kovac’s people got their hands on,” she said.

The mount in question had been smuggled off Coventry by Precentor Marinja Kovacs’ Covert Ops division. It was from an upgraded model of the common Phoenix Hawk medium-class BattleMech that had received design input from the Dragoons-connected Blackwell industries.

Like the -WD models debuted by Blackwell over the previous few years, this new Phoenix Hawk model was designed to accept any large laser manufactured anywhere in the Inner Sphere, a capability that had previously only been available to the Star League-era Mercury class BattleMechs, of which ComStar itself was the last remaining operator.

Finding out that the Inner Sphere had replicated this capability was bad enough, but the mount had also featured interface ports for PPCs - something only the highly restricted and long-vanished SLDF Royal model of the  Phoenix Hawk had ever carried - and worse than that, there were additional interface ports on the mount that matched no known weapon.

Seneca nodded. “We can copy the design for our own use - “ he began.

“It’s not as simple as that, Charles,” Laurent interrupted. “Changing the weapon class means a change in interface with the battle computer, as well as a change to the ‘Mech’s centre of mass and centre of gravity. That means they’ve made a breakthrough on the software side as well.”

“Blake’s beard - it’s more good news then,” Seneca spat sarcastically before downing the rest of his scotch.

“What really bothers you?” Laurent pressed.

Seneca stared past her to the far wall.

“The FedCom is playing a long game, but I think the Dragoons have been playing a longer one. Probably started before they arrived in the Inner Sphere thirty five years ago.”

His eyes came down to meet hers.

“Since the end of the 4th Succession War, they’ve moved to a new phase in their plan. No one’s ever been able to figure out their ultimate objective, but now we really need to. My gut tells me that we are approaching their endgame.”

---

From the Newswires

BUSINESS
GM up 4.7% gross, +2.9% net in last quarter - attributed to 6 month war and new I+ series of classic ‘Mechs

LyrCom government announces additional 560M Kroner infrastructure stimulus package for Tamar Pact - meant to facilitate cross-border trade with FRR

Good opportunities for experienced spacers based in Sarna March. White Swan Lines, MarLeon Transport & Wolf’s Dragoons among top hirers in last quarter.

PROFESSIONAL MILITARY CONTRACTORS UPDATE

Wild Geese become thirteenth member of the AMC

Still no slowdown in contract availability within the FWL, driven by fears of renewed FedCom drive.

Title: Re: A Reckoning
Post by: mikecj on 07 October 2018, 00:23:22

And when ROM gets nervous... graveyards expand

Title: Re: A Reckoning
Post by: cawest on 07 October 2018, 16:57:19

i'm just looking forward to someone bring the SLDF Lion dropship back into production.  it would make a great combined arms transports. 

Title: Re: A Reckoning
Post by: alkemita on 25 December 2018, 16:03:24

New Sarepta, Tranquil
Clan Wolf Territory
May 29, 3039

“I trust your wounds are not too serious, quineg?”

Cyrilla Ward replied with an expression that was more a grimace than a true smile as she saluted her Khan.

“Neg, my Khan,” was all she said, as the tall man gestured for her to take a seat. Looking around the office, she saw a portable screen that almost covered one wall, the surface area split into a number of unevenly sized windows showing surveillance footage from various locations in the Watch Complex.

Three of the windows were on pause - two showed recordings of the interrogation sessions carried out on Tasha’s Spheroid companions, and the third was frozen in the middle of her second “conversation” with Tasha yesterday - the one they’d had after she discovered that Fraser and Tulliver had been hauled off to interrogation.

The third occupant of the room sat before the screen, but now she swivelled in her chair to face Ward as her fellow Khan took his seat as well.

They made for quite a contrast. kaKhan Ulric Kerensky was tall and lean, his brown hair and beard turning white, with piercing eyes that could make him look wise, crafty, or intimidating as needed.

saKhan Laurel Mehta, on the other hand, fit the classic AeroSpace Pilot phenotype developed by Clan geneticists to a T. A bit over 1.5 meters tall, she had the over-sized head and enlarged eyes (violet in her case) that marked her sub-caste. Despite her apparent delicacy, the fact that she was the second in command of the Clan spoke volumes about her actual mettle.

Both Khans had rushed to Tranquil from Strana Mechty when they received Cyrilla’s coded transmission, using a command circuit and a pirate jump point to cut weeks off the trip. They hid it well, but Ward would bet that both were feeling the effects of having been jumped through space multiple times in only a few days.

Regardless of how they felt, though, they had a situation on their hands which threatened to change the entire paradigm of clan politics.


“Natasha has kicked open the burrock hive by returning to the Homeworlds. We need to work out what to do,” saKhan Mehta cut to the chase.

Ulric nodded and turned to Ward. “Cyrilla, you are certain that Kerlin forbade the Dragoons to return under any circumstances, quiaff?”

“Aff, Ulric,” she confirmed.

“And yet, here she is, with a freebirth retinue and a multi-exabyte intelligence database on the Inner Sphere.” He paused, then - “Could she be a renegade from the Dragoons? Broken with them so that she could come home?”

“Unfortunately, the evidence points the other way,” sighed Ward. Gesturing toward the paused vids on the wall with her chin, she continued “The interrogations of Dechan and Susan indicate that they received their orders direct from Star Colonel Jaime himself. Jaime has also recorded a message for the Grand Council.”

“Great Father,” cursed Mehta. “This is worse than I thought. Ulric - this matter cannot see the light of day in the Clan Council, let alone the Grand Council!”

Ward’s blood chilled. “What are you suggesting, saKhan Mehta?” she asked in a tone just as cold. Mehta might be her superior, but she had once held that position in the Clan, and she was not intimidated by her.

“Galaxy Commander Ward, how many people know of Natasha Kerensky’s presence here?” Mehta pressed.

Cyrilla came out of her chair. “You cannot be serious, saKhan!”

“Stop.” Ulric Kerensky also stood, but in a more controlled fashion. He turned to pace the length of the room, turned, and came back, pausing along the way to regard the images on the wallscreen.

Still facing away from the other two, he began to speak. “We have always known that us Wardens need to win every vote or Trial when it comes to invading the Inner Sphere. The Crusaders only need to win once.”

He turned around.

“Cyrilla, you lead House Ward. How many of your Bloodnamed trothkin now espouse the Crusader way?”

“Ten of the twenty-five,” she replied immediately, “and three others are sitting on the fence,” she continued, demonstrating the intimate knowledge of House matters that she was expected to have.

“So House Ward might be majority Crusader before long. The numbers are similar across all our Bloodhouses,” Ulric said. “We are the strongest of the Warden Clans, but we are losing ground to the Crusaders internally” He managed another joyless grin as he pivoted to saKhan Mehta. “You and I know that the next time Clan Wolf has to replace a Khan, a Crusader will be elected.”

saKhan Mehta’s face tightened at the reminder that she had been elected by only a slim majority.

He came forward to stand by the desk again. “We are running out of time. The Crusader philosophy is too attractive to the younger generations.”

“All the more reason to make sure Natasha Kerensky’s information never comes out into the open. This will give the Crusaders all the ammunition they need!” stated Mehta.

“Perhaps…” allowed Ward, deep in thought.

“Perhaps what?” demanded Mehta.

“Ulric, there is no time limit on how long we wait before bringing this to the Grand Council, quineg?”

“Neg, Cyrilla, but you know that if we wait too long it will damage our case when the others hear about it.”

“So, we need to work fast and present our case in a way that not even the Crusaders can dispute.”

“Cyrilla Ward, you are actually considering implementing Natasha Kerensky’s proposal?” saKhan Mehta spun to face her Khan. “Ulric, if we start down that road -”

“There will be no turning back, I know,” the senior Khan of Clan Wolf returned to his seat and planted himself in it.

“Natasha is telling the truth about her motivations, and the interrogations have confirmed her story.”

Something flared in Mehta’s eyes, but before she could say anything, Ulric continued “Strategically speaking, we Wardens have been defending a shrinking perimeter for the last forty years - eight generations. We can only react to Crusader initiatives, which weakens our position even further.”

One arm thrust across the table. “Natasha’s information gives us the opportunity to seize the initiative back from the Crusaders.”

“By giving them what they want,” pointed out Mehta.
“Not necessarily,” objected Ward. “What would they rather be seen by the Inner Sphere as - conquerors or saviours?”

Ulric nodded sagely. “Most of the Crusaders have forgotten how to plan beyond the immediate. What happens after the conquest? Using Natasha’s information, we can steer the strategy and define the terms of the Clans’ return to the Inner Sphere in a way that fulfills the Warden mandate and blunts the Crusaders’ lust for conquest for conquests’ sake.”

Ulric’s hardened eyes swept between the pair of senior officers.

Ward smoothly nodded her head to Ulric’s unspoken question, then turned to look at Mehta, who sat stony faced for an interminable number of seconds, before jerkily nodding her head once.

“Seyla,” breathed Ulric. He stood.

“Cyrilla, you will take charge of Natsha’s party and their information. I want a comprehensive analysis of their intelligence.”

“Aff, my Khan.”

“Laurel. You and I will return to Strana Mechty. I need you to update the readiness status of our Touman and come up with options - both to expand it, and to support an expeditionary force to the Inner Sphere.”

“Aff, as my Khan commands.”

Ulric nodded. “We have lots to do. Let us get going.” And he stalked out of the room.

Even Better than the Vids - Outrageous and Unbelievable True Stories from the LosTech Shadow Wars
By Moira Vasey
Pub. Mallorca Books, St Ives, 3079

Forced to step up its game in the face of the embryonic Federated Commonwealth’s adoption of a defence-first intelligence security strategy, ROM learned to adapt.

One of the ways it did this, as we have seen, was to compromise the intelligence services of the FedCom’s rivals, giving them access to a whole other dimension of information.

When ROM gained deep access to the Capellan Confederation’s Maskirovka, among the gems they uncovered was Captain Erik Tang.

A native of Brighton in the St Ives Compact, Tang worked his way from deckhand to command of a Mule-class DropShip, the Hainan Rose, with which he plied the stellar trade routes between the Compact and the FC. By all accounts, he became quite successful.

Unfortunately, like so many others before him, Tang succumbed to his baser instincts - literally fulfilling the old saw “a girl in every port”.

His troubles began when two of his mistresses found out about each other when Tang accidentally sent one of them a message meant for the other. The two ladies involved then decided to team up to extort Tang, blackmailing him by threatening to expose his affairs to his wife.

The size of Tang’s problem can be illustrated thus: Mrs Tang had a half-share in the Hainan Rose (and was, in fact, the namesake of the ship). Without her, he would be out of business. On the other hand, the sums demanded by his scorned mistresses were also ruinous, and if he paid, he would still be out of business.

And so Erik Tang found himself in a DropPort bar one evening, deep in his cups and pouring out his woes to any who would listen. It just so happened that a fellow patron was in a position to ease Captain Tang’s burden.

The man, of course, was a Maskirovka agent, and he sensed blood in the water. Tang was a perfect recruit in many ways - he had access to many worlds of interest to the CapCon, he had a legitimate reason to visit said worlds on a regular basis, and his gregarious nature helped draw in people.

Tang’s reports (delivered via dead drops and cut outs) came in the form of audio recordings of his observations. They were verbose, stream-of-consciousness ramblings that apparently drove more than one Mask transcriber to despair, but because Outreach was one of the worlds on Tang’s regular trade circuit, ROM didn’t mind so much, and eagerly awaited his reports.

It was through Tang that ROM discovered or confirmed such things as the rotation schedule of the Dragoons’ AeroSpace forces, the types and quantities of raw materials they were seeking, and even some more esoteric information like the width of the service back alleys in downtown Harlech.

While Tang was no superspy, his case aptly demonstrates how competent intelligence analysts can extract a remarkable amount of information from even seemingly mundane data.

ComStar’s ComGuards and Special Forces eventually made good use of the information provided by Tang and other, less-colourful report writers.

And what happened to Captain Tang? He was murdered mid-coitus by the enraged husband of one of his many paramours on Indicass in 3044, dying as he lived.

Here are extracts from one of his reports on Outreach.

-finally on, you bloody thing. Date is erm, September nine - shit, it’s past local midnight - September ten, yeah, September ten, thirty-forty-one. Location is, as always, the Master’s cabin aboard the Merchant Vessel Hainan Rose, currently grounded on Outreach, the Sarna March in the FedCom. Why you Mask-querade guys need me to say that every time is beyond me, but hey, you’re paying the bills.

Where was I? No, actually, before I start, I’m gonna do you guys a favour. I was in the DropShip’s Nest tonight - not a bad little bar on Eighth and Wesson. Too many Draggie Pups in there celebrating some bullshit graduation or something, but anyway - bartender offered me some of the new local product. It’s called "Ruby Reach". Label said it was a “dry red.”

****** me, it was so dry me tongue stuck to the roof of my mouth! Made her take it away and bring me some real wine.

The point is - the ****** want to export it! Can you believe it?  Get this - seems one of the Draggies invalided outta service coz he got a leg and a testicle shot off in the Fourth Big Mistake - I might be wrong about what got shot off - or was it burned off? Never mind - not important - so anyway, apparently he always fancied himself a Vinter, and he somehow talked the Draggies into subsidising his new vineyard. Ummm… I think they said it was somewhere north of the Agro district.

Gotta say, he’s obviously a better talker than he was a Mech jock or winemaker. The stuff is horrific, don’t go near it.

You’re welcome.

Right… where’d I put that bloody...? Ah-hah - found it!

Your list of questions - and what’s number one? Surprise, surprise, same as always, and same answer as always - the indigs don’t give a flying ****** who sits on the Celestial Throne. They don’t “show a preference” for Duchess Liao or Chancellor Liao. They just wanna get on with their lives, please and thank you.

And so should you gits - I’ve told you before I’ll let you know you if an indig sidles up to me and tells me Outreach’s gonna declare for Duchess Candace, so, for the love of the Buddha, can you please stop with question one? ****** me.

Okay, question two…

[...]

Right, now we come to “other observations” - shit, how much memory have I got left on this thing? And more importantly, how much more rum? Heh.

Umm… the Draggies are still trying to hire more able spacers - one of their dock officers even tried to chat up my astrogator and - oh, wait, I told you guys about that in question twel- uh, seventeen, didn’t I? Bloody hell, can’t keep things straight anymore, but I can’t exactly take notes now, can I? Wouldn’t look ******’ suspicious would it?

Okay, okay. Other observations. Hmmm… oh yeah! The Harlech PD seem to have new recruiting standards. Passed maybe a half dozen foot patrols tonight at the port and downtown - at least one of each pair o’plods was an honest-to-god giant - as in crank-the-neck-up-to-ouch-to-look-‘em-in-the-eye giant. Big bastards - and bitches too - two of them giants were gals of the female persuasion. Really good “don’t ****** with me” faces too.


Tetsuhara Proving Grounds, Remus, Outreach
Terran March, Federated Commonwealth
23 April, 3040

“Okay, what do we know about Keating?” Major Emilia Tzu asked, gazing intently at her next opponent who was warming up on the far side of the Circle of Equals with his support crew. Like her, the buzzcut red-headed man was staring across the arena back at her.

The loser of the previous bout was still limping out of the circle helped by two of his support crew. Emilia could hear the winner’s crew celebrating off to the right.

Around the arena, which was actually part of Fort Wells’s sports complex in its day job, various senior Dragoons shuffled on and off the bleachers, observing the candidates. Some watched everything, others seemed to take an interest in particular candidates.

Emilia knew without looking that Colonel Patrick Chan would be watching her bout with Keating. The CO of Gamma Brigade had been there from the beginning, standing at the start line (and finish line) for the 25-hour endurance and solo navigation march that kicked off the Trials.

He was also one of the referees during her Command Post Exercise - she wasn’t happy with her performance there even though the scenario put her in charge of a decapitated Dragoons Brigade facing four-to-one odds, and she’d managed to extract forty-three percent of her troops.

Colonel Chan had also shown up during the Augmented Combat rounds, where she had battled other candidates from the cockpit of a ‘Mech (not always her usual Crusader), making it to the final four where a AeroSpace pilot with amazing G-tolerance and unbelievable precision gunnery had taken her down with his Corsair.

And now she was in the last phase of the Trials - single unarmed combat against those still in the running (the field had been culled after the Augmented Combat round).

“Mechjock in Third/Beta,” Lieutenant Saul Pearce replied as he slapped a bottle of Emilia’s favourite QsQuared electrolyte drink into her right hand.

“You just read that off the screen, dumbass,” accused Lieutenant Sienna Rostopovna as she continued re-wrapping Emilia’s upper left arm.

Before the hirsute tanker could fire back at his sibmate, Captain Mason Calvados-Kincaid stepped between them and faced Emilia. At 198 centimetres tall, the infantryman towered over the trio, especially Emilia, who might break 160 centimetres if she let her hair grow out a little.

“Keating’s a Peacock,” he told Emilia, a “Peacock” being slightly derogatory infantry slang for a MechWarrior with flashy piloting moves, derived from the name of a Terran avian.

Emilia lowered the QsQuared from her mouth. “So he’s probably going to dance in and out, hit’n’fade,” she thought out loud.

Mason nodded thoughtfully. In this quartet of sibmates, he was the only one who had previously won an Honorname - that of Kincaid, and his words therefore carried a bit more weight.

“How’d you know he’s a Peacock?” asked Pearce as he packed extraneous gear into a barracks bag.

“My company was OPFOR for his lance one time on Caph, before the war. Watched him bet on his reflexes to try to dodge our SRM barrage.”

Sienna finished with Emilia’s arm and shifted to check on the ugly bruise that discoloured Emilia’s right cheek. As the only Level II Certified Combat Aider amongst Emilia’s support crew, the aerojock had appointed herself the team medic.

“It’s fine, Sienna,” Emilia waved off her sibmate. “It’s-”

“Only pain!” finished the other three simultaneously, quoting a much-despised PT instructor from their Sibko days.

A beat, then they all burst out laughing. Mason went to one knee so Emilia wouldn’t have to strain her neck looking up at him.

“One minute,” called a flat voice over the arena PA.

“Warm up, Em,” called Pearce, and she started to jog in place while working her shoulders.Sienna dropped the soft helmet over Emilia’s head, the memory poly moulding itself to her features for a tight fit. Pearce helped her double check the straps on the sparring gloves.

“Okay, Em, he has reach on you, and he’ll back his reflexes,” Mason coached. “Let him come to you, then do what you do best!”

He stood again, and extended his right hand into the middle of their little group, where it was joined by three others. The survivors of Sibko Ten-Sigma.

“You’re almost there, Em,” Mason continued. “ You’ve beaten everyone else. The way out is through Keating. Ten!”

“Sigma!” the others replied, peeling off to let Emilia jog into the arena as the announcer called “Thirty seconds.”

Two weeks earlier…

“Hey! Emm! Over here!”

Emilia Tzu snapped her head to ten o’clock, where Mason Calvados-Kincaid was waving at her, crooked smile on his face.

His height made a him the perfect marker beacon in the crowded bar.

She changed course, weaving past a pair of tables and half a dozen patrons before arriving at the booth appropriated by her sibmates.

“Mason!” she chirped as she reached him, allowing the infantry officer to heave her off the ground with one of his usual bear hugs.

“Emm!” he roared in response, before dropping her next to the free seat in the booth their party had appropriated.

“You’re late, Cadet Tzu! Explain your tardiness!” barked Sienna Rostopovna from beside her, in a fair imitation of their former Drill Sergeant R. G. Salazar.

“That’s Major Tzu now, Lieutenant Rostopovna,” grinned Mason as he parked himself back in his seat opposite the two ladies.

“Which means she gets the next round for us!” chirped up Saul Pearce from the other side of Mason. He and Emilia were still in their blue Dragoons jumpsuits, with non-regulation leather jackets on top since both had come straight from duty. Mason and Sienna were in civvies.

Mason and Sienna cheered their tanker comrade’s suggestion, and Emilia accepted defeat with good grace, plunging her CredCard into the appropriate slot on the tabletop and selecting everyone’s brew of choice from the menu. The nice thing about drinking with sibmates was that you didn’t need to ask what anyone’s poison of choice was.

That chore completed, Emilia sat back to regard the trio that were possibly her closest friends and comrades. Together they had graduated from one of the first Dragoons sibkos in 3030 - four survivors from the original fifty. Most of their sibmates had been steadily weeded out over the course of the decade-long training they had undergone.

Their ranks would thin out seemingly arbitrarily - a gap in the ranks after a training exercise one afternoon, an empty cot when you woke in the morning. Since they were teenagers, they half-believed the barracks rumours that those who disappeared had been executed, even though they would occasionally run into them again, especially in the conventional school classes that they took alongside their sibko training.

Even if they did see their former sibmates again (who were usually moved to training in support fields), they might as well have been dead to those who remained in the sibko. The program was tough enough that you just didn’t have any reserves left over to maintain ties with someone who was no longer in it.

Twelve of them had made it to the end of the ten years, to face the Trials - a gruelling week of field exercises that served as their graduation exercise. Tested on everything from command potential to combat first aid, often facing an OPFOR that included active duty Dragoons, half of them had fallen at this final hurdle. The decade that followed had claimed the other pair of graduates.

Emilia could still remember the feelings of sheer relief, stunned disbelief and numbness that she felt at the conclusion of the Trials as it sunk in that she had actually passed where so many others had not. That night the six of them had stumbled upon the DropShip’s Nest on the edge of Harlech’s CBD, gotten gloriously drunk, and it became a tradition that whenever they were all on-planet at the same time, a visit to this bar was mandatory.

There hadn’t been many of these reunions in the intervening decade since Sibko Ten-Sigma had graduated.

Sienna, a phenomenal pilot, had served first with Beta Regiment’s Aero Wing, then with Alpha’s, where she was now a Aero Lance Commander. In another brigade, she’d probably have had her own squadron by now, but the prestige of being in Alpha was almost equal to that.

Saul was also a Lance Commander, of a Bandit hovertank lance in the 2nd Armoured Regiment attached to Beta Brigade, having worked his way up steadily from driver to gunner to vehicle commander to Lance Sergeant to Lieutenant.

Mason had been the ristar of the sibko - that term, unique to the Dragoons, denoted one who was expected to rise fast and far. He had excelled in leadership and military skills throughout his training, acknowledged by all as the Sibko’s unofficial leader, and scored well enough in the Trials to join Gamma Brigade as a Mechanised Infantry Squad Leader, two levels up from normal.

Twice promoted on the battlefield, he’d racked up an impressive resume, including such heroics as taking down two heavy ‘Mechs in the same battle with his platoon of foot-sloggers, and rescuing a wounded comrade under fire. He’d made Captain and company commander before being transferred to Training Command just after the recent war, but not as an instructor. Instead he was part of some hush-hush doctrine and policy task force (he’d already used the cliched “if I tell you I have to kill you,” line on Pearce before Emilia showed up).

And then there was Emilia herself. Assigned to the still-rebuilding Epsilon Brigade, she had resigned herself to a long wait to see action, but fate had had other plans for her. Firstly when her company had been attached to Beta for seasoning, where she’d impressed two Dragoons legends - her lance commander, Tom West, and the company commander, Dechan Fraser - enough so that she was bumped from Corporal to Lance Commander when Fraser had been reassigned to the infamous Black Widow Battalion.

And now she was a Major, commander of Able Battalion of Epsilon Regiment, and decorated veteran of the Six Months War.

“We’ve been damned lucky,” she spoke into the silence.

Three bobbing heads answered her - they all knew what she meant. That with the amount of action they’d seen over the past decade, it was nothing short of a miracle that there were not more empty places at their table. They’d all buried many comrades.

A server appeared with their drinks. Mason used his long arms to distribute them, and then lifted his mug of ale.

“To Ten-Sigma,” he intoned. A clash of mugs as the others replied “Ten-Sigma!” in unison before quaffing.

“And to Major Emilia Tzu!” Sienna called for the next toast.

When they downed their mugs again, Saul used his empty mug as a pointer to get Emilia’s attention.

“So, Em - while you’re back on-planet, are ya gonna enter the Trials?”

“No, I’m not,” she said firmly.

“What? Why not?” cried Sienna. “With your record, Family members’ll be climbing over each other to be your sponsor!”

“You gotta enter, Em! I know you can handle the Trials,” Mason threw in. He’d passed his own Honourname Trials two years previously and was now a member of House Kincaid.

“Guys, guys, whoa!” Em waved her sibmates to silence. “I can’t. I have a battalion to run and rebuild. We’re still twenty percent understrength. I have two fresh company commanders, five rookie lance commanders and eleven green MechWarriors fresh from the sibkos…”

She trailed off at the looks on the faces of her sibmates. Realisation hit her, and she dropped her face into her cupped hands.

“Blake’s blood! You ****** didn’t!”

Pearce’s annoying cackle of a laugh was the only answer she got.

Emilia snapped back upright and flicked a spare coaster at Saul’s head. “This isn’t funny, guys!”

Mason leaned in. “Emm, face it, you’re an ideal candidate for an Honorname. Your record is outstanding…”

“Others have better,” she countered.

“Not many, and not in our ageframe,” riposted Sienna. “And, we found the perfect house for you.”

Emilia started to say something, but nothing came. After a few seconds, she decided that she was doing a great impression of a marsh frog, and pulled herself together.

“Alright, alright. I request hegira. Lay it on me.” She took a big drink as Mason picked up the thread.

“The Council has added West to the list of Honornames. You’ve spent your entire career in his unit. You knew him, and we think you’d be perfect to carry his legacy on. Hell, you already are in some ways since you took over his battalion. So we’ve submitted an application to the Trials on your behalf,” he grinned.

“Which has been accepted,” Sienna continued, drawing out a folded sheet of paper from her purse and passing it over.

Feeling like she had stepped into an alternate dimension, Emilia took the paper from Sienna and unfolded it.

Under the Dragoon Council logo at the top of the page, a few typed lines confirmed her entry into the initial Trials for the Honorname West, in the 30-40 ageframe. The trials would begin in a week, and she had been temporarily detached from normal duties to participate - as had her nominated support team…

Her eyes flicked up from the paper to take in her sibmates.

“You didn’t think we’d let you do this all by yourself, did you?” snarked Saul.

Now…

“Thirty seconds - candidates to the Circle,”

Emilia crossed the perimeter and stopped on the white square that denoted her starting position, casually flexing her hands, keeping her weight on the balls of her feet.

Five meters away, Lieutenant Prakesh Keating stepped up to his own square. He had the build of a runner, and managed to give the impression that he was just straining to be let off the leash. Like Emilia, he was dressed in standard grey Dragoons PT shirt and shorts. Neither wore any footwear. His sparring gloves and helmet were green while Sienna’s were red.

The low level chatter around the arena died away as the clock ticked down. It was considered bad form to cheer, cajole or shout encouragement in the Trials as if it were a mere sporting event.

A shrill whistle sounded, and Keating exploded into motion, head-faking right as he came in against Emilia’s left side, obviously looking to test her strapped left arm.

She pivoted counter-clockwise on her right foot, using the motion to pull her left side out of his range, while throwing her right arm up to block his incoming straight left. She tried to turn the block into a lock, but Keating really did have the reflexes of a startled jackrabbit, and he escaped out of range.

Emilia reset her stance just in time as Keating closed again. Out shot his fist again, but this time he threw a simultaneous kick.

Emilia managed to block the punch with one hand, and almost succeeded in doing the same to the kick, but she was a fraction of a second slow, and Keating’s heel bounced past her hand and slammed into her left thigh.

Knocked off balance, she stumbled and fell on her left side, but rolled on impact. Her peripheral vision showed Keating’s fist slamming into the mat where she’d just been.

She sprang to her feet, adrenaline pumping and taking the edge off the pains in her left arm and thigh.

Keating was coming at her in a half crouch. Emilia sprang forward, surprising him, grabbed his right arm, spun inside his reach, using their combined momentum against him, and twisted, spinning them both into the mat, with Keating under her. She heard a “whumpf!” as the air was driven from his lungs.

She took advantage of their relative positions to crash a punch into Keating’s cheek, which was only partially absorbed by his helmet.

Despite the blows, Keating shifted under her, trying to grapple her with his longer reach. Recognising that she had overstayed her welcome, Emilia sprang to her feet, only to be ankle-tapped by her opponent. She hit the ground at full stretch, grateful for her mouth guard as her chin bounced off the mat.

Catching movement at the corner of her eye, she scrambled forward and then launched a two-footed horizontal backward kick at the shape coming up behind her.

She connected solidly, and there was an audible crack when her feet landed, followed by a much louder “******!”

Emilia scrambled to her feet - and saw Keating down on one knee, clutching his left forearm. His left hand hung limply, and at a strange angle, she realised, while his face was pale with shock.

She hesitated for a moment - she would have been within her rights, by the rules of the Trials, to move in and inflict further punishment, but she was hoping - and yes! Keating braced his left arm across his knee, and used his right hand to slap the mat three times.

Emilia had won.

Her focus expanded outward, and she was suddenly aware of Saul, Sienna and Mason wrapping her in a collective bearhug even as Keating’s support crew raced in with medical kits.

Title: Re: A Reckoning
Post by: alkemita on 25 December 2018, 16:03:58

Forging the Pack - The Untold Story of Wolf’s Dragoons in the Reckoning
By Drs H. R. Cowan & T. S. Choi
Pub. New Avalon Press, 3068

As in most things they did, the Dragoons adapted their Iron Womb and Sibko programs to better serve their unique mission.

They had brought artificial womb technology with them from the Clan Homeworlds, and there were many among the original Dragoons who had either been in sibkos or who had carried out support functions for the Clan eugenics program.

However, they put off starting their own Sibko program until 3009 as they figured out how to run one without raising suspicions in the Inner Sphere.

Their solution blended what they considered to be the best practices of both the Clans and the Inner Sphere.

It did not take the scientists who formed part of the Dragoons to realise that they now had a a gene pool to draw on several orders of magnitude larger than they had ever worked with before.

From the beginning, they collected genetic samples from as many Spheroids as they could, most often under the guise of “routine medical tests.” Beyond gathering raw material for a future breeding program, in the early days, at least, the Dragoons were also following standing Clan-wide orders concerning the traitorous Clan Wolverine - the so-called “Not Named Clan”.

Although destroyed at the start of the Clan’s Golden Century, the extreme terms of the Trial of Annihilation that had sanctioned the genocide of Clan Wolverine had never been revoked, and so all Clans were duty bound to seek out any survivors of Clan Wolverine that might have been missed in the original Trial, or their descendents, and exterminate them. Genetic testing was the primary means by which Clanners carried out this investigation.

We do not know when exactly the Dragoon Council authorised the establishment of their eugenics program, but the first batch of babies were born in 3009.

Even at this early stage, the Dragoon eugenics and sibko program would deviate markedly from Clan norms.

For starters, where the Clans sourced their genetic material from two individuals (usually two warriors), the Dragoons began by splicing together material obtained from multiple Spheroids into a single sperm or ovum, thus creating a genetic Chimera. Since the Clans were far more advanced in their understanding of the human genome, they could isolate DNA sequences that they knew were far more likely to produce outstanding warriors.

The Chimeras were then combined with a sperm or ovum from several dozen Dragoons or their immediate family.

The net effect was that each sibko would have half their genetic material coming from a Chimera and the other half from a Dragoon.

Incidentally, because the Dragoons did not use the complete DNA sequence of any one individual in the Inner Sphere, this led the courts in the Federated Commonwealth to rule that persons created by the Dragoons’ Iron Womb program were not members of the families that had contributed to their genetic makeup, and were therefore not eligible for any inheritances or rights belonging to said families.

Each batch of embryos produced sibkos of fifty children. Unconfirmed information suggests that the use of Chimeras increased the miscarriage rate, and that up to seventy-two embryos were required to ensure fifty viable babies. Some of the first Dragoons sibkos may have been smaller due to this issue - the data is unclear. There have also been reports that as time went on, the miscarriage rate dropped. Any “extra” babies produced beyond the fifty required were adopted out.

Where the Clans raised their sibkos communally from birth, the Dragoons strove, initially, to give their trueborn children a more normal upbringing. The children were taken into the homes of the Dragoons who had contributed half their genetic material and brought up much as any other child would be in the Inner Sphere for the first ten years of their lives.

At age eleven, the children were placed into modified sibkos. Initially more akin to a boarding school set-up, they lived in barracks during the week and went home on weekends and semester breaks. They received a dual-track education, taking normal school classes around their military training.

By the time the sibkin turned thirteen, they lived in barracks all week, only seeing their families during the holidays. Research suggests that other social engineering was applied to make the sibko the primary social support for the cadets. Indeed, former Dragoons have mentioned cutting contact with their original families by their mid-teens.

Although the training was rigorous and the discipline appropriately martial, there is little evidence of the casual brutality endured by the cadets’ counterparts in traditional clan sibkos. In this, the Dragoons appeared to have erred on the side of making sure that any cadet with the potential to pass training was afforded the opportunity to do so. This is supported by the fact that, in general, more Dragoons cadets made it to their final Trials of Position than their clan peers. It is estimated that Dragoons sibkos graduated an average of four to seven cadets, versus one to five for the Clans.

That is not to say that the cadets were treated with kid gloves. Injuries were common, and any cadet that proved manifestly unsuitable for military service was promptly removed. The fate of those who failed tended to depend on when they washed out of the program.

Within the first two years, former cadets usually returned to their families and continued with civilian educations. Beyond that timeframe, fewer teens returned to their families. Many ended up in group housing run by the Dragoons Council and entered some form of trade school.

This group often found it hard to adjust to civilian life. Indeed, a significant minority developed severe depression, some level of substance abuse was common, and the attempted suicide rate was high enough above the statistical average to cause enquiries from FedCom health authorities. Getting additional psychological support for these wash outs was complicated by the need to find counsellors who could be security cleared to work with the Dragoons.

In an apparent attempt to keep some link to their previous lives, many of the wash-outs joined the Dragoons Home Guard, serving two weekends a month, plus exercises. This proved to be a boon to the Dragoons as their reserves swelled, and allowed Dragoon high command to use them as additional OPFOR in the Series. It was also not unknown for Home Guard members who performed well to be offered the chance to compete for a front-line slot, so former sibkin still had hope of making their dreams come true.

The Dragoons ensured that their sibkos contained roughly even numbers of cadets from all the major combat arms as part of their drive for a “Wolf Pack” mentality, but it was not the only tool they borrowed from their Clan progenitors.

Shortly after the sibko program was established, the Dragoons Council authorised the creation of Honourname Families - an analog to the Bloodnames so prized by the Clans.

The intent was to create a vehicle to encourage excellence and to uphold particular traits that the Dragoons wished to enshrine.

Unlike Bloodnames, the holders of an Honorname were not necessarily genetically related to the founder of the name. Rather, candidates for an Honorname were generally nominated because they exhibited the traits that the founder was known for. For instance, holders of the Kincaid Honorname are expected to shown the same kind of determination in the face of long odds that founder Captain Ralph Kincaid did.

Each Honorname Family was allowed one member for each ageframe, which was defined as a ten-year bracket of time (so there was one place for a member aged between 20-30, another for 30-40 year olds, and so on), although this could vary a bit as members aged. Thus, the numbers of Honourname holders in a particular family would vary a bit, but generally not exceed four to six.  Anytime a vacancy was created in an ageframe due to aging or death, an Honourname Trial was convened, overseen by the Honorname Family (trials for new Honournames were overseen by volunteers from previously established Families).

Where Clan Bloodname Trials emphasised raw combat ability above all else, Dragoon Honourname Trials were far more comprehensive, requiring the candidate to demonstrate all-round ability in military skills, leadership and fortitude under pressure, in addition to combat excellence. It was in fact possible to win an Honourname without actually coming first in any one Trial area as long as the candidate’s all-round performance was strong.

There was also some variation in the Trials depending on the exact Family. Sharpshooting, for instance was added to the Trials for the West Honourname, given that the Founder was known for his superlative gunnery.

Although there was apparently no hard prohibition on creating a Honourname Family with a living Founder, this was never done. The only attempt to do so came in the mid 3030s, when a motion was brought before the Dragoons Council to add “Wolf” to the list of Honournames. The proposal was vetoed by General Jaime Wolf.

Once inducted into an Honourname Family, the successful candidate would add the Honourname to their own name. For example, Emilia Tzu, the final CO of Epsilon Brigade, became Emilia Tzu-West when she won her Honourname Trial in 3040.

The net effect of the Honourname system was to give Dragoons another goal to aim for, thus encouraging continuous excellence and improvement. With the odds so sorely stacked against them, the Dragoons would need every edge they could buy, beg or steal when the Reckoning finally arrived.

Title: Re: A Reckoning
Post by: Tegyrius on 25 December 2018, 21:52:56

I don't have any intelligent commentary but I don't want this to go unacknowledged.  It's damned good and I am looking forward to seeing where this goes.  Also digging on the mixed use of historical documents and conventional narration - it's an effective storytelling method here.

Title: Re: A Reckoning
Post by: ThePW on 25 December 2018, 23:46:22

Station Keeping!

Title: Re: A Reckoning
Post by: alkemita on 25 December 2018, 23:50:55

Quote from: Tegyrius on 25 December 2018, 21:52:56

I don't have any intelligent commentary but I don't want this to go unacknowledged.  It's damned good and I am looking forward to seeing where this goes.  Also digging on the mixed use of historical documents and conventional narration - it's an effective storytelling method here.

Thank you for the kind words.

And for the record, your comment that the mix of narrative and historical docs is intelligent commentary as far as I'm concerned

Title: Re: A Reckoning
Post by: alkemita on 25 December 2018, 23:52:47

Quote from: ThePW on 25 December 2018, 23:46:22

Station Keeping!

Sorry, I didn't get the reference. Can you elaborate please?

Title: Re: A Reckoning
Post by: Daryk on 26 December 2018, 07:04:38

I think they mean they're tagging the thread.  I'm not a clan fan in any way, but this is interesting.  Please keep up the good work!

Title: Re: A Reckoning
Post by: Sir Chaos on 26 December 2018, 09:23:06

Quote from: Tegyrius on 25 December 2018, 21:52:56

I don't have any intelligent commentary but I don't want this to go unacknowledged.  It's damned good and I am looking forward to seeing where this goes.  Also digging on the mixed use of historical documents and conventional narration - it's an effective storytelling method here.

Instead of trying come up with something intelligent myself (too full of Christmas feast food to think well), I´ll simply second the above commentary.

Title: Re: A Reckoning
Post by: ThePW on 26 December 2018, 10:50:47

+3! I had forgotten this was the fanfic with Cranston getting offed in angerous methods (the initial hook for me) :D

Title: Re: A Reckoning
Post by: alkemita on 26 December 2018, 15:46:42

Quote from: Daryk on 26 December 2018, 07:04:38

I think they mean they're tagging the thread.  I'm not a clan fan in any way, but this is interesting.  Please keep up the good work!

Ah, gotcha.

Glad you find this interesting.

Title: Re: A Reckoning
Post by: alkemita on 26 December 2018, 15:47:47

Quote from: Sir Chaos on 26 December 2018, 09:23:06

Instead of trying come up with something intelligent myself (too full of Christmas feast food to think well), I´ll simply second the above commentary.

Much appreciated - and I'll take any commentary, intelligent or otherwise :-)

Title: Re: A Reckoning
Post by: alkemita on 26 December 2018, 15:48:57

Quote from: ThePW on 26 December 2018, 10:50:47

+3! I had forgotten this was the fanfic with Cranston getting offed in angerous methods (the initial hook for me) :D

I have to admit I didn't realise how big a deal Snord is to some sections of the BT community when I decided to off him - he just happened to be the right person for the scene...

Title: Re: A Reckoning
Post by: mikecj on 28 December 2018, 07:55:28

I'm enjoying this, thanks for sharing!

Title: Re: A Reckoning
Post by: Shadow_Wraith on 29 December 2018, 10:18:27

Nice to see this updated!   

Title: Re: A Reckoning
Post by: cawest on 29 December 2018, 16:11:32

great work.  nice to see the update.  so did the WD go for the full elemental suits?  if they can come up with a good PA(L) that might be a good thing to sell on the open market.  it also would lower the risk in losing grunts of the WD. 

Title: Re: A Reckoning
Post by: alkemita on 29 December 2018, 21:06:55

Quote from: cawest on 29 December 2018, 16:11:32

great work.  nice to see the update.  so did the WD go for the full elemental suits?  if they can come up with a good PA(L) that might be a good thing to sell on the open market.  it also would lower the risk in losing grunts of the WD.

Thank you, CAwest.

The answer to your question is coming up later in the story. It might be useful to remember that the Dragoons (and the FC) are in a situation where "perfect is the enemy of good enough".

Opportunity costs factor into every decision they are making in bootstrapping the militaries of the FC and the AMC. Beyond simply making the appropriate upgrades, consider the industrial infrastructure costs of making the upgrades, and then throw in the need to maintain security.

I alluded to the difficulties of providing mental health support to Dragoons sibko washouts in the latest updates. That's almost the least of the difficulties they have to negotiate.

Title: Re: A Reckoning
Post by: cawest on 29 December 2018, 21:18:11

its your story and your AU.  i just liked reading it.   

But the Class 1 fighting circuit on Solaris VII was all Exoskeleton an it had been going on for a few centuries.

i understand about having to little butter for to much bread. it was your stepping stone to get used to the idea of Omnis that got me to remember it.   

Title: Re: A Reckoning
Post by: cklammer on 30 December 2018, 02:58:45

Good to see this return - very nice.  :thumbsup:

Title: Re: A Reckoning
Post by: consequences on 30 December 2018, 14:10:36

"Why not go for a clean sweep on members of all five royal families wanting us dead" -Jaime Wolf apparently.

Title: Re: A Reckoning
Post by: alkemita on 30 December 2018, 21:52:37

Quote from: cawest on 29 December 2018, 21:18:11

its your story and your AU.  i just liked reading it.   

But the Class 1 fighting circuit on Solaris VII was all Exoskeleton an it had been going on for a few centuries.

i understand about having to little butter for to much bread. it was your stepping stone to get used to the idea of Omnis that got me to remember it.   

Hmmm... I may have hit the LECTURE MODE button a little too hard in my original reply to you  :-[. My apologies - I didn't mean to ram the bleeding obvious down your throat.

Battle Armour is going to appear in this story - there's even one Dragoon Brigade that could be argued to be the natural operator for it right now.

Title: Re: A Reckoning
Post by: alkemita on 30 December 2018, 21:54:41

Quote from: consequences on 30 December 2018, 14:10:36

"Why not go for a clean sweep on members of all five royal families wanting us dead" -Jaime Wolf apparently.

LOL - desperation, and possibly a touch of Clan Hubris "whaddya mean Spheroids might object to having their DNA sampled without their permission - they're just Spheroids! Geez - it's not like they're Trueborns, ya know"

Title: Re: A Reckoning
Post by: cawest on 30 December 2018, 22:19:16

Quote from: alkemita on 30 December 2018, 21:52:37

Hmmm... I may have hit the LECTURE MODE button a little too hard in my original reply to you  :-[. My apologies - I didn't mean to ram the bleeding obvious down your throat.

Battle Armour is going to appear in this story - there's even one Dragoon Brigade that could be argued to be the natural operator for it right now.

no worries... I just did not want to run you off.  in an AU the author holds the controls.  the outside world my make suggestions, but the author is the pilot. some people out here do not understand that.   

Title: Re: A Reckoning
Post by: consequences on 31 December 2018, 06:50:43

Quote from: alkemita on 30 December 2018, 21:54:41

LOL - desperation, and possibly a touch of Clan Hubris "whaddya mean Spheroids might object to having their DNA sampled without their permission - they're just Spheroids! Geez - it's not like they're Trueborns, ya know"

More the state treason and impending death of billions, you already basically glossed over the potential line theft and future civil war hair with the legal ruling on chimeras.

And make no mistake, the only ways Jaime Wolf doesn't die at the end of this is if he dies before hand as the Dragoons get used as shock troops in every battle, or the Fed Com is so thoroughly destroyed they can't afford assassins to hound him until the end of his days in the Periphery. Pretty much any other rulers of the components of the Fed Com would have promptly put 3039 on hold, and have every member of the AMC either demonstrate their lack of complicity by combat dropping in Outreach to put every Dragoon to the sword or be purged along with them.

Title: Re: A Reckoning
Post by: alkemita on 31 December 2018, 10:38:17

Quote from: consequences on 31 December 2018, 06:50:43

More the state treason and impending death of billions, you already basically glossed over the potential line theft and future civil war hair with the legal ruling on chimeras.

And make no mistake, the only ways Jaime Wolf doesn't die at the end of this is if he dies before hand as the Dragoons get used as shock troops in every battle, or the Fed Com is so thoroughly destroyed they can't afford assassins to hound him until the end of his days in the Periphery. Pretty much any other rulers of the components of the Fed Com would have promptly put 3039 on hold, and have every member of the AMC either demonstrate their lack of complicity by combat dropping in Outreach to put every Dragoon to the sword or be purged along with them.

A writing mentor of mine told me that my goal should be to writing something that generates a response in the reader. I seem to have done that here.

Destroying the Dragoons outright at this point is looking a gift horse in the mouth. They are bootstrapping the FC beyond what they could have expected. It would be much harder for the FC to get the information the Dragoons are freely providing from corpses and wreckage.

Does that mean the FC is happy with the genetic thefts? No, but they're willing to let it slide for now because of the larger issues. It's geopolitics and statecraft, which have always involved making deals with the metaphorical devil.

And demanding the AMC undergo a loyalty test is what the Clans would do, not the IS. In any case, they haven't received anything from the Dragoons except training - and the opportunity to see -WD and -I+ series BattleMechs. Even the DCMS received training from the Dragoons, and Dragoons instructors taught at AFFS academies. This AMC =/= canon AMC.

We are in Act II of a three-act play. I'm gratified that you are picking up on some of the issues, because this is the point in the story that they should be bubbling up.

And you are correct that there will be a price to be paid. Why do you think this story is titled "A Reckoning"?

Title: Re: A Reckoning
Post by: drakensis on 04 January 2019, 16:18:56

I'd lost track of this at some point, good to see it's still going.

Title: Re: A Reckoning
Post by: alkemita on 05 January 2019, 11:31:02

Quote from: drakensis on 04 January 2019, 16:18:56

I'd lost track of this at some point, good to see it's still going.

Glad to have you on board for the ride, Drak - do you have any feedback (writing, plot or otherwise) for me?

Title: Re: A Reckoning
Post by: drakensis on 06 January 2019, 02:54:34

You're hitting the tell rather than show a bit.

Natasha's confrontation with Cyrilla, for example. We see Dechan being interrogated, then flashback to much more civil debriefing with Cyrilla reuniting with Natasha (who isn't really explaining much, where it's a good spot for exposition). And then it's not to the next update that we find out that the chemical interrogation was done behind Natasha's face and that she didn't take it well. And we don't see that, we have to pick it up from her needing medical treatment before meeting Ulric.

Given the Wolves are discussing sweeping the matter under the table, at this stage at least making them antagonists to Jaime Wolf's master plan, this set up undermines the emotional impact of that.

My recommendation would be to keep the interrogation scene, follow it up with Natasha talking to Cyrilla and drop a few comments from Natasha that could be taken to mean she knows and endorses what's being done to Dechan (highlighting alien cultural mores of the Clan). And then have Natasha find out, confirming she didn't know, which shows how she has drifted from Clan ways. Have her demand a trial of grievance, Cyrilla declining and then getting punched by Natasha going '****** you, fite me, bitch!' At that point, the next section can cut to aftermath, possibly mentioning Natasha is now confined.

This follows the model of set-up (Wolves interrogating the Dragoons), focus (Natasha is divided from the Spheroid Dragoons both physically and culturally), twist (in fact Natasha is culturally separated from the people she's come home to). That's not the only model to write with of course but that's what fits with what I think you were trying for with those scenes.

Title: Re: A Reckoning
Post by: ThePW on 06 January 2019, 13:02:29

IDK, Bob. It'll take longer for him to redraft all that... and we're already impatient as is :D

But Drakesis's recommendations do seem correct: that last segment update seemed off...

Title: Re: A Reckoning
Post by: consequences on 06 January 2019, 14:21:31

Quote from: alkemita on 31 December 2018, 10:38:17

A writing mentor of mine told me that my goal should be to writing something that generates a response in the reader. I seem to have done that here.

Destroying the Dragoons outright at this point is looking a gift horse in the mouth. They are bootstrapping the FC beyond what they could have expected. It would be much harder for the FC to get the information the Dragoons are freely providing from corpses and wreckage.

Does that mean the FC is happy with the genetic thefts? No, but they're willing to let it slide for now because of the larger issues. It's geopolitics and statecraft, which have always involved making deals with the metaphorical devil.

And demanding the AMC undergo a loyalty test is what the Clans would do, not the IS. In any case, they haven't received anything from the Dragoons except training - and the opportunity to see -WD and -I+ series BattleMechs. Even the DCMS received training from the Dragoons, and Dragoons instructors taught at AFFS academies. This AMC =/= canon AMC.

We are in Act II of a three-act play. I'm gratified that you are picking up on some of the issues, because this is the point in the story that they should be bubbling up.

And you are correct that there will be a price to be paid. Why do you think this story is titled "A Reckoning"?

This isn't a matter of emotional response, it's that rulers who let their subordinates get away with secretly setting up mechanisms to build their own private armies, create their own private cliques among the armed forces, and then start wars behind their backs before presenting it as a fait accompli tend not to have their dynasty in charge for that long in historical terms. The closest historical analogy to Jaime Wolf right now is Stefan Amaris in 2765, and they only have his currently functionally worthless word that he actually always intended to confess his actions all along.

Further, they can't put any Dragoon in charge after removing him, because each and every officer down to the company level either supported his actions, or stood aside and let them happen. Only Jaime Wolf dying is the completely unrealistic Disneyified Pollyanna version of how this is likely to end, and that after glossing over the Weaponized Loki War Orphans that would be assigned to every Dragoons dropship, presuming they don't just skip straight to the implanted cranial bombs. Maybe since Hanse is such a swell guy, and Melissa is so compassionate, they would settle for hostages from every Dragoon family to be kept under guard.

Title: Re: A Reckoning
Post by: alkemita on 06 January 2019, 15:19:46

Quote from: drakensis on 06 January 2019, 02:54:34

You're hitting the tell rather than show a bit.

Drak - Thank you for the detailed and thoughtful feedback - I found myself nodding in agreement with everything you said. And I appreciate you taking the time to do this.

Since I'm trying to become a better writer, I'm going to rewrite that last part.

Title: Re: A Reckoning
Post by: alkemita on 07 January 2019, 17:59:17

Quote from: consequences on 06 January 2019, 14:21:31

This isn't a matter of emotional response, it's that rulers who let their subordinates get away with secretly setting up mechanisms to build their own private armies, create their own private cliques among the armed forces, and then start wars behind their backs before presenting it as a fait accompli tend not to have their dynasty in charge for that long in historical terms. The closest historical analogy to Jaime Wolf right now is Stefan Amaris in 2765, and they only have his currently functionally worthless word that he actually always intended to confess his actions all along.

Hey Consequences,

I think you're seeing some things in my story that aren't actually there. And some of that appears to be due to my not being as good a writer as I would like to be - hence my soliciting feedback.

You're right that the FC would have had mechanisms in place to do a Base Delta Zero on Outreach had Jaime Wolf given the wrong answer to Hanse and Melissa in 3038 - and perhaps that meeting would properly have been conducted in a sealed room in MIIO HQ with the sovereigns asking the questions from behind BattleMech cockpit grade glass. I did have some allusions to AFFC forces being positioned a jump away from Outreach and other precautions being taken against a Dragoon betrayal in one version of the story, but I couldn't get the pacing to work. My loss, and by pointing out the illogicalities thus generated, you have contributed to my learning experience.

Whether or not Wolf backed the FC, and by extension the rest of the Inner Sphere into a corner, the fact remains that he intended to force the confrontation, and so they now have to play the hand they were dealt, and it will go a lot more smoothly at this time to have the Dragoons open cooperation in bootstrapping the AFFC.

Quote

Further, they can't put any Dragoon in charge after removing him, because each and every officer down to the company level either supported his actions, or stood aside and let them happen. Only Jaime Wolf dying is the completely unrealistic Disneyified Pollyanna version of how this is likely to end, and that after glossing over the Weaponized Loki War Orphans that would be assigned to every Dragoons dropship, presuming they don't just skip straight to the implanted cranial bombs. Maybe since Hanse is such a swell guy, and Melissa is so compassionate, they would settle for hostages from every Dragoon family to be kept under guard.

Okay, this part, if I'm reading it correctly, is your interpretation of how I'm going to end this thing. I won't spoil anything, but I will say I'm not a fan of munch fics where everything goes the way of the heroes, or where they get away with only a flesh wound. My idea for this story grew out of my wondering if there was another way for the Dragoons to fulfill Kerlin Ward's final orders to them, which led to some interesting second order effects and unintended consequences (pun intended).

I appreciate your insights and your continued reading of this story (even if through gritted teeth). I'm trying to apply the adage of learning more from criticism than praise, so I hope you will be able to say that the story improves as it goes on.

Title: Re: A Reckoning
Post by: DOC_Agren on 08 January 2019, 16:20:05

I am interested in how the WD is acting as a Bootstrapping the IS to be ready for the Clans and can they be ready in time.
I'm not sure we can 100% trust them, but right now the help is need to get ready.
The Proto-Omni "Classics" are a great 1st step.
It is interesting that Jamie's plan right now seems to be sic the Clanners on Comstar and then "cleanup" bothsides

Title: Re: A Reckoning
Post by: alkemita on 10 January 2019, 21:19:22

Quote from: DOC_Agren on 08 January 2019, 16:20:05

I am interested in how the WD is acting as a Bootstrapping the IS to be ready for the Clans and can they be ready in time.
I'm not sure we can 100% trust them, but right now the help is need to get ready.
The Proto-Omni "Classics" are a great 1st step.
It is interesting that Jamie's plan right now seems to be sic the Clanners on Comstar and then "cleanup" bothsides

Doc - more about the bootstrapping is coming up soon. Jamie Wolf is definitely pursuing his own agenda here, and you'll also get to hear more about his plan soon.

Title: Re: A Reckoning
Post by: alkemita on 22 January 2019, 23:13:08

Post #59 has been modified. I will have to make downstream edits to resolve inconsistensies, and then I can advance the story again.

Title: Re: A Reckoning
Post by: cawest on 22 January 2019, 23:46:47

looking forward to more of this story. 

Title: Re: A Reckoning
Post by: cawest on 27 January 2019, 12:37:33

i wanted to give you an FYI,  when you update an older post?  it does not let any know about the change.  if you could post a note that you have updated x post number that would be help full.  I like the way you modified the Black widow. 

Title: Re: A Reckoning
Post by: alkemita on 27 January 2019, 15:01:38

Quote from: cawest on 27 January 2019, 12:37:33

i wanted to give you an FYI,  when you update an older post?  it does not let any know about the change.  if you could post a note that you have updated x post number that would be help full.

I did - look two posts above

Title: Re: A Reckoning
Post by: cawest on 27 January 2019, 15:15:02

Quote from: alkemita on 27 January 2019, 15:01:38

I did - look two posts above

I did not know if you had updated any of the other post, yet

Title: Re: A Reckoning
Post by: alkemita on 01 March 2019, 23:48:16

Port Shenzhen, Garstedt
Alshain Military District, Draconis Combine
August 11, 3040

“Meet meee ‘round the julah treeeee,
Bring meee all that saddens theeee,
And I promise, promise, pro - chikushō!”

Chu-sa Seiichi Saito and his fellow officers howled with laughter as Sho-i Vargas took one step too far and tumbled off the stage in mid-chorus.

His attempt to rise was defeated by being entangled in the microphone cord, and in his inebriated state, he was helpless until some of his equally drunk comrades came to his questionable rescue.

The cheerful backing music continued on amid the laughter, shouting and cursing, making for another happily chaotic Saturday evening at the Sweet Melodies Karaoke Bar.

Saito eased back in his chair. He and a few other senior officers of the Ryuken-san sat around a crescent shaped table in a semi-private raised alcove at the back of the Bar. It allowed them to be part of the regiment’s carousing while giving their juniors social and physical distance to let their hair down. It was a fair arrangement, to his mind.

The regiment had a lot of steam to let off. After escaping Caph during what was now being called the “Six Month War”, the Ryuken-san had hoped for a reprieve to rebuild their battered ranks. Instead, they were immediately ordered to join a relief force for Dieron, which had been invaded by a joint FedSuns and Lyran task force. Letting a Prefecture Capital fall into enemy hands would have been bad, and Saito had been prepared to die to keep Dieron in the Combine, but by the time the relief force arrived, the FedCom troops had already pulled out after wrecking most of the military and governmental infrastructure on-planet.

The Ryuken-san therefore saw out the war on Dieron helping to restore order and assist in the reconstruction effort. They had apparently been selected for the role because civil assistance operations were beneath the dignity of the more senior and prestigious DCMS regiments in the relief force.

Indeed, those more “worthy” regiments had left almost as soon as it was confirmed that there were only looters and not enemy BattleMechs to fight.

After Dieron was deemed sufficiently “secure”, the -san, still only at fifty-five percent strength, had been ordered to Garstedt for rebuilding.

Yet their journey was not over. Originally co-located with the 3rd Alshain Regulars in Fort Dalmatia on the other side of the planet, the personnel from the two regiments did not get along and the local military police had had their work cut out for them keeping the peace.

Fortunately, cooler heads prevailed, and the -san were relocated to a reserve installation in Port Shenzhen on the other side of the planet. Fort Lushan was designed to host armor and infantry, not BattleMechs, and there was no integral DropPort, but no matter, the -san, in their usual close-mouthed fashion, stoically made the best of things.

Now in their third month posted here, Saito was glad to finally be able to go to work reconstituting the regiment. As the senior surviving battalion commander, he had been promoted to Chu-sa and made XO of the regiment, meaning that logistics and personnel was now his responsibility, and those jobs were easier to do when your unit stayed in the same place for some time.

Life had developed a semi-comfortable rhythm, and there were signs that regardless of how they were viewed by other DCMS units, someone in high command was pleased with them.

“It seems our new busoshensi are finally beginning to fit in,” observed Tai-sa Kansa from the center of the table. Like his senior officers, Kansa had unfastened his service jacket, an unspoken signal to all that normal military formalities were suspended. Non-traditional the Ryuken might be, but they were still samurai, with attendant social norms that sometimes got in the way of military effectiveness.

That conclusion was still anathema to the vast majority of their peers and superiors in the DCMS, so in typical Ryuken fashion, Kansa and his officers had contrived to work around them. Unbuttoned service jackets at a karaoke bar was the signal that allowed them to talk shop openly.

Following his commander’s eyes, Saito and his fellow officers watched Sho-i Vargas being helped back to his seat by two recent replacement MechWarriors from his company.

Two weeks ago, they had received eight recent graduates from assorted Combine military academies - and four former Sun-Zhang Cadre members. The latter could normally expect assignment to one of the higher prestige regiments of the DCMS upon the completion of their time in a Cadre, so their very presence was a message.

Saito grunted in agreement. One of the Sun-Zhang alumni was in his Second Battalion. Chu-i Suzuki had experienced quite a bit of culture shock at first, but had adapted well, even getting over his disappointment at not being assigned as a lance commander immediately.

Saito had watched Suzuki during training exercises and found him malleable to the Ryuken way of doing things. It was much the same with the other replacements. It would seem that High Command had actually tried to find replacements who would do well in the Ryuken set-up.

“Replacements are well and good, but we need machines to go with them,” countered Sho-sa Henry Uchida of Third Battalion. Only the Sun-Zhang graduates had brought ‘Mechs with them. He plucked the toothpick umbrella from his multi-coloured cocktail and pointed it at Master Chief Petty Officer Amaruddin. “Which is what the Master Chief wanted to talk about, right?”

Amaruddin waved a negligent hand in Uchida’s direction, never taking his eyes off the next singer up front. Despite his lowly relative rank (Master Chief Petty Officer being the Support Arm equivalent of a Chu-i in the DCMS), being the Master Chief in a ‘Mech Regiment was a position that carried enormous responsibility and unofficial authority, since he had risen through the ranks to his current position as commander of all the Techs and AsTechs that kept the BattleMechs running. Indeed, Amaruddin was the oldest man at the table.

“Tai-sa, did they tell you where the new ‘Mechs came from?” Amaruddin asked.

The new BattleMechs in question had arrived two days prior on an unmarked Mule-class cargo DropShip. A whole battalion’s worth of advanced models not seen in the Inner Sphere since the fall of the Star League, the assortment included Crabs, Guillotines, Black Knights and Highlanders. There were enough of them to bring the -san almost to full strength, and the more powerful weapons they carried promised to make them deadlier at one fell swoop.

It didn’t take long for the regimental grapevine to go to work, and almost every MechWarrior in the unit had already petitioned Kansa for assignment to one of the new machines. One of Saito’s current headaches was working out a equitable way to decide who got them.

Kansa and his staff took the arrival of so many advanced machines as yet another sign that High Command was pleased with them. Perhaps because the Coordinator’s son and heir, Theodore Kurita was now Gunji-no-Kanrei (Deputy for Military Affairs), and he was known to favour effectiveness over tradition.

Now Kansa considered his Master Chief’s question.

“They said…” he began, then stopped, remembering. “No, the charge officer implied that they came from Luthien Armour Works.”

Amaruddin snorted. “If they did, then it looks like LAW has opened factories on Terra.” He reached into his jacket and pulled out a batch of multi-coloured tags that he tossed on the table in front of the officers, who reached for them.

Saito held his tag close to examine in the dim light. It was a work tag, universally used by Techs working on vehicles to indicate work done on components.

In this case the yellow rectangular tag, slightly frayed from being pulled off whatever it had been attached to, bore a ComStar logo in the top left corner, and the inscription read: “Inspected: 30371113, CG Fac4534, Terra.”

Kansa put down the tag he was examining. “I want the machines - but only if they are safe to operate,” he told the table, extracting nods from everyone.

“Hai, Tai-sa,” agreed Amaruddin. “We will strip each one down to their frames to ensure there are no surprises.”

“How long will that take?” Saito asked, already anticipating the barrage of enquires he was sure to field from subordinate officers.

Amaruddin scratched at his technically forbidden braided grey goatee (Master Chiefs could get away with quite a bit as long as they kept their machines running). “If we go to fifty percent maintenance cycle on our current ‘Mechs, I can assign enough crews to do four ‘Mechs a day - that’s tear-down and rebuild. We can increase that to six per day if we go to three shifts, but I assume we want this done right rather than done quickly.”

Saito calculated out loud “Alright, so nine days to do the lot, assuming we don’t find anything… unusual. I’ll tell the regiment we will begin releasing the new ‘Mechs a lance at a time in a week.”

Both Kansa and Amaruddin jerked their heads once in agreement.

“Great. It’ll be good to give the FedCommies a taste of their own medicine,” Uchida all but rubbed his hands together in glee. “Once we have weapons that equal theirs, it will come down to skill again, and there we have the edge!” he pronounced, lifting his glass.

“Eh - not quite,” Amaruddin interjected.

Every head at the table turned to look at Master Chief Amaruddin.

“Explain,” Kansa commanded tersely.

“That’s the other thing I wanted to talk to you about,” Amaruddin said. “They told us these are top-of-the-line Star League tech models, right?”

“Hai.” But Kansa now had a wary look about him.

“Well, they’re lying, or ComStar bullshitted them.”

“How?”

“We tested some of the weapons. The extended-range particle cannons on those ‘Mechs match the range of the FedComm ones, but don’t do any more damage than the usual ones, so they’re a third less powerful than the AFFC ones.”

“Chikushō!” Saito swore. “You’re certain?”

The Master Chief nodded solemnly.

“Are the ER-PPCs being regulated - do they have a governor on them that limits their power throughput?” Saito asked next.

“Ie, Chu-sa. We checked.”

“Any other discrepancies?” Kansa reentered the conversation, leaning in a bit to be heard because the next singer was belting out some hard-pop number whose popularity completely escaped the Tai-sa’s generation.

“The double heat sinks we got are still the same as the ones coming out of LAW and not the compact ones the Dragoons use.”

Uchida sank the remainder of his cocktail in one swallow.

Kansa cupped his chin in one scarred fist. “So, ComStar is still holding back the SLDF Royal grade stuff, but the AFFC somehow got their hands on it.”

The grim looks at the table told him that his senior staff agreed with his conclusion.

“Well then, gentlemen - we had best start developing tactics to win against royal grade enemy ‘mechs.”

New Sarepta, Tranquil
Clan Wolf Territory
July 10, 3039

C’mon, c’mon! Fraser leaned his ‘Mech back as far as he dared while twisting it’s torso counter-clockwise at maximum rate. The air in the cockpit was hot and heavy - losing a pair of heatsinks earlier in the fight made it that much harder to cool off.

On the other hand, he was also limited in how much heat could now build up since his Gargoyle-Prime’s right arm, mounting twin highly destructive and hot running extended-range particle cannons, had been shot away twenty seconds ago.

Hence he was cranking his assault-class OmniMech around to bring his remaining weapons - all mounted in his left arm - to bear. It was a gamble, since he actually had less armour remaining on his left side, but he had nothing left to shoot back with on the other side.

His opponent was in roughly the same shape as him. Another 80-ton Gargoyle, this one was the -D variant, which carried a targeting computer to make its arsenal of lasers even more deadly. In a grotesque mirror-image, it too was missing an arm - it’s left - and Fraser’s sensors indicated that he’d also managed to destroy one of the torso-mounted pulse lasers.

Both MechWarriors were now in a turning fight. Neither had a manoeuvrability advantage, and the open plains they were fighting on offered no meaningful cover, so it came down to who could shoot more accurately and make fewer mistakes.

Center, Fraser told himself - employing one of the “focus words” Tom West had taught him to facilitate getting his head in back in the zone, where he could block out discomfort, pain, alarms and the neural feedback warning him that he was only a hair of a degree away from overbalancing the thirteen metre tall war machine.

Without conscious thought, he switched to independent targeting, and four closely-spaced but separate crosshairs sprang to life on his HUD.

Fully in the zone now, the quartet of red circles seemed to slide smoothly across the landscape until they crossed his opponent’s battered torso.

One by one the crosshairs blazed gold to indicate valid firing solutions. Fraser pulled triggers as they did, his Large- and Medium- class pulse lasers generating staccato-like hits across the other Gargoyle’s centerline almost too fast for the eye to follow, while his Extended Range Medium Laser went lower and struck around the waist rotation ring.

Even as he did so, his opponent cut loose with an alpha strike, flaying armour from head to toe.

Almost every warning light in the cockpit lit up, vestibular feedback from his neurohelmet confirmed what his eyes were telling him - he was falling. He had gambled and lost.

Just before he hit the ground, the lights went out.

Fraser slumped back in his command couch as the lights snapped back on in the simulated ‘Mech cockpit. The canopy cracked open with a hiss of hydraulics, allowing cooler air to flood the overheated pod. Fraser silently gave thanks for his full-body MechWarrior’s cooling suit.

While the canopy retracted to its fully open position, he unstrapped himself from the couch and hauled himself out of the simulator.

As he took off his neurohelmet beside his recently vacated cockpit - one of ten arranged in two rows in the room, he saw Cyrilla Ward climbing out of the opposite cockpit.

“Stravag! I thought I had you that time!” she jabbed a finger at him.

“What?” Fraser was confused - she’d taken him out -

“We drew - you destroyed my gyro with that last salvo,” Ward informed him.

“Against a bloodnamed trueborn, I’ll - I will take it, Galaxy Commander,” Fraser shrugged, looking around in vain for a towel -

“Here!”

Fraser’s head snapped left and he made a reflex catch of the towel that Natasha Kerensky threw at him as she came out of the simulator control room.

“Well, Rilla - does your subjective experience confirm the objective data?” she asked her old friend while handing her a second towel, with only a fraction of her usual snarkiness, Fraser noted.

The Galaxy Commander stripped off one of her gauntlets and hurled it at Kerensky, who caught it just short of her face.

“There’s no substitute for fighting someone - you of all people know that, Tasha,” she shot back.

Fraser and Ward had just gone head-to-head five times, for two wins apiece and a draw. They had used different ‘Mechs  and different environments for each scenario.

He was only now feeling back to his old self. Under interrogation, he had answered truthfully - it was, after all, part of the Plan to give the Clans a true picture of the Inner Sphere.

However, his prompt answers had caused the interrogator to think that Fraser was feeding them a cover story, so he had upped the dosage, and discovered that Fraser was one of the three percent of people who had a lower-than-normal cardiac arrest threshold for these drugs.

End result - three days in bed, and a week of light activity only after that. He had been cleared of permanent damage by the medics, but had only been allowed back into the simulators in the last few days. He longed to climb into the real deal, but there was no chance of that right now.

Security around them was still tight, although a few more people had been brought in to serve support functions for their little crew.

Once he was back on his feet, Kerensky had talked to himself and Tulliver, beginning with an apology for not managing to avert their narco-interrogations.

Fraser had been surprised by that - he’d never heard Kerensky apologise for anything, ever. Tulliver later told him that Kerensky had been confined to quarters for punching out the local garrison commander - who had been a sibmate of Kerensky’s, no less - while he had been unconscious, but the pair had apparently sorted things out after a couple of days and several meetings that Kerensky was tight lipped about.

Whatever had happened, apparently they now had sanction at the highest levels of Clan Wolf to proceed with their plan.

That meant that Tulliver now spent her days closeted with a bunch of analysts interpreting the database they brought back with them. As an anthropologist by trade, she had adapted smoothly to this new culture. It irked Fraser a bit that Tulliver was now more fluent than he was in the Clan dialect of Star League English, even though many of the terms and phrases were derived from the military jargon that he was more familiar with.


And he was being tested. He’d been put through a battery of physiological tests, many of them familiar to him from his yearly medicals. Other tests were definitely not familiar, including an afternoon spent sparring against live opponents both unarmed and with armed with various melee weapons. Not for the first time, he silently gave thanks for the training that Tom West and some of the other original Dragoons had put him through. He also often wondered how his old friend was doing.

Fraser stretched, tucked his gloves into the bowl of his neurohelmet and walked over to the two Clan MechWarriors.

“He is no Ice Hellion when it comes to reflexes,” opined Ward “but it does not matter because his decision making is excellent.”

“Exactly, Rilla! And that is what we need everyone to understand!” Kerensky leaned in to poke her friend in the chest.

“Here among the Clans, he’d be assigned to a solahma cluster by now, given shitty equipment, poor resources and suicide missions. Of course those warriors can’t measure up to the next generations! They’re handicapped in every possible way, so their fate becomes a self-fulfilling prophecy!”

“I am right here, ladies,” Fraser put in, but Ward just blew past him.

“But your own data shows that he is exceptional amongst the Spheroids - not the rule. Benchmarked against our baselines, Fraser is only above average.”

“Ahem,” Fraser tried again.

“Those baselines don’t measure the benefits of twenty years combat experience!” riposted Kerensky “Otherwise, how do you explain still being on active duty at our age? And he just drew a five-round contest against a Clan Trueborn warrior!”

“Aff, I know,” sighed Ward. She turned to Fraser. “You did far better than I expected. If you were of Clan Wolf, I expect that we could find you a place in our Touman.”

“Thank you, Galaxy Commander,” Fraser replied. “But to be honest, I didn’t - excuse me - did not expect to do so well either. I usually lose as many as I win against other Dragoons.”

Kerensky snickered. “Ah… Dechan, you did happen to notice that for the past few years, you’ve been pitted against the best of the Dragoons in testing, right?”

Fraser blinked hard as the revelation hit him. “You mean…?”

“Aff,” grunted Ward as Kerensky’s smiled reached feral proportions. “Apparently you have been fighting above your weight for a while now.”

“Well, let’s go somewhere with refreshments to continue this discussion,” Kerensky spun on her heel and stalked off without waiting for the other two.

“Was she always like this?” Fraser asked Ward.

“Neg. She has gotten worse,” confirmed Ward with a long suffering sigh as she and Fraser followed the Black Widow out of the room.

---------

The secure mess in the complex wasn’t empty.

Tulliver and Star Captain Mulligan were waiting for them.

“Galaxy Commander, Star Colonel,” the latter began, holding out a red-bordered message form for Ward.

“Thank you, Star Captain,” she said as she took it. Kerensky leaned over to read over Ward’s shoulder.

Fraser didn’t think he could be so familiar, so he just shot Tulliver a questioning look.

“The timetable’s moved up,” she answered. “You and Kerensky need to pass your Trials of Position in the next month.”

Forging the Pack - The Untold Story of Wolf’s Dragoons in the Reckoning
By Drs H. R. Cowan & T. S. Choi
Pub. New Avalon Press, 3068

By 3041, the disparate arms of Dragoon technological diaspora had reached the stage that an oversight organisation was badly needed.

Thus was born the blandly named Liaison and Coordination Group (LCG). Given the enormous and critical responsibilities of the LCG, finding the right person to head it up was not easy.

The number of people with the right qualifications and temperament for the job was small, even given the vast population of the Federated Commonwealth. Too, the position would require the successful candidate to essentially vanish from public view for the forseeable future, which culled the list even further. It was the latter requirement that ruled out the Sovereigns’ first choice for the role, Marshal Ardan Sortek. He was simply too high profile to drop out of sight for years.

With some reluctance, the intelligence community of the FedCom was tapped once more to fill the position. So many operatives and analysts were now assigned to protect Project BUILDING that intel lapses in other areas were almost inevitable.

For instance, Professor Fiora Challing has convincingly argued that the abortive so-called “Second Skye Rebellion” of 3043 would never have got as close as it did to launching if FCIC agents and analysts assigned to the Skye March had not been stripped to historic low levels in order to staff Project BUILDING.

Nevertheless, Alex Mallory, recently retired after coordinating the merger of the FedCom’s Intelligence apparatus, was appointed Chairman of the LCG, with retired Kommandant General Kasper Nowak (late of the LIC) as his deputy, and eventual successor.

On its formation, the LCG assumed oversight for all Dragoons related activities and projects.

Project BUILDING was the largest and most well known of the programs. Thanks to the infamous Gorrich Leak of 3059, we have a partial list of Project BUILDING sub-program code names, as well as some details on what some of them pertained to.

PILLAR was the ultimately abandoned crash project to mass-produce OmniMechs and OmniFighters.

AWNING concentrated on creating the infrastructure to mass-produce advanced technology items. This program would prove crucial to the coming war.

FRAME was the WarShip program, another one that was ultimately scaled back in the resourcing crunch of the early 3040s. By the Reckoning, the AFFC Navy would only be able to claim a strength of eight WarShips (six of them being Dragoons WarShips recovered from the BRISTOL Cache by Operation SKYLARK), with another on the slipways.

It should be noted that as an added security measure, anytime the project codenames were used in written communication, a randomly generated greek letter suffix was added, for instance, “AWNING GAMMA”. The suffix denoted nothing, but was intended to suggest multiple locations or sub-programs that didn’t exist. Where subdivisions of projects actually existed, as they did in the case of the OmniTechnology project PILLAR, the subdivisions were referred to by a further numerical suffix, thus - “PILLAR KAPPA-17”, which, as nearly as can be determined, referred to the OmniMech portion of the PILLAR sub-program.

The most secretive of the sub-programs, of course, was the HPG technology one. Virtually all information about this project is still sealed under 50, 75 and 100 year publication ban rules. Most of what we think we know is conjecture and extrapolation. Even the name of the program is unknown.

We know that cracking the secrets of HPG technology, even with the help of the Dragoons, proved to be almost impossible. Those few Dragoons who had experience with HPGs knew how to operate them, not build them.

Hopes were raised briefly when Operation SKYLARK returned to the Outreach system in the dying days of the Six Month War. While combing through the contents of the Dragoon BRISTOL Cache recovered by Fleet Colonel Issola Chandra’s Task Force, techs discovered a maintenance manual for a ship-borne HPG, somehow missed during the sanitisation of the WarShip Alexander’s data archives. To be clear, there was no HPG aboard the Alexander, although later investigation showed that it was highly probable that she had once been fitted with one, possibly when the ship had been used by the exiled SLDF to scout the Kerensky Cluster.

Needless to say, multiple copies of the manual were quickly made and secured. Despite lack of context issues, such as instructions to “close panel and run normal Boot sequence steps A to G as per Ops Manual Section 4.11.2”, it was still the most information any Successor State had ever uncovered about Hyperpulse technology.

By itself, it was not the breakthrough that the FedCom was hoping for - indeed, ComStar’s monopoly on Hyperpulse Generators remained intact through most of the Reckoning. The main thing it did do for the elite group of FedCom researchers, now joined by Dragoons engineers, was to show where, and how large, the gaps were in their knowledge.

In fact, the quantification of the “missing jigsaw pieces”, as one researcher put it, had the fortuitous effect of driving AFFC R&D investment into alternative interstellar communications technologies as they realised how far they had to go. Based on the events of the Reckoning, it is highly probable that the FedCom was able to implement a limited-capacity FTL communications network not based on HPG technology for AFFC use.

As large as Project BUILDING was, it was merely one of the LCG’s responsibilities. Jamie Wolf had promised full access and cooperation, and the FedCom intended to test that promise.

Intelligence and Military personnel, covered as Mercenary Liaison Officers, took up residence on Outreach.

Some of the Sovereigns’ closest advisors wanted the Dragoons sibkos to be shut down, for a variety of reasons ranging from religious objections to the more immediately serious fact that genetic material was being used without consent.

In a two part compromise arbitrated by Mallory, the Dragoons were ordered to cease using genetic material gathered from Inner Sphere sources. Going forward, all Dragoons sibkos would be seeded with material from existing Dragoons only. In return, a closed sitting of the High Court of the Federated Commonwealth ruled all Dragoons born from the iron wombs ineligible to hold any noble title in the Federated Commonwealth.

Nowak took the lead in negotiating the best use of the Dragoons’ combat assets. It was agreed, for example, that the six WarShips from the BRISTOL cache would be turned over to the FedCom Navy. One of the six would be stationed in the depths of the Outreach system, two more sent to guard the twin capital worlds of the FedCom and the rest held as a reserve and for study.

It was further agreed that from now on, the main mission of the Dragoons was to train the AFFC to stand against the Clans and ComStar’s ComGuards. No more than two brigades at a time could be hired out, and not at all for extended contracts.

Mallory and Nowak became fixtures at Dragoons command council meetings - the first outsiders ever allowed in. Mallory says in his autobiography:

“There was a tension in the air as Kasper and I entered the secure elevator at the heart of Fort Joshua’s main building. Colonel Patrick Chan, CO of Gamma Brigade and an original Dragoon, was our escort.

“His nickname amongst the Dragoons was “Old Stone Face”, and while he certainly did his best to be inscrutable, both Kasper and myself had made careers out of, and sometimes even bet our lives on our ability to read people. Talking to Kasper afterwards, he agreed with my assessment that Chan was not happy at all with our intrusion into the inner sanctum. This once again supported the prevailing analysis that Jaime Wolf was the key to the whole relationship with us. The Dragoons would go in whatever direction he wanted, no matter their personal misgivings.

“The elevator descended for long enough to make the silence uncomfortable, but none of us felt like speaking. When it finally came to a stop, we were deposited in a small security lobby, completely bare except for a duty desk to the left and four guards flanking the double doors to the secure conference room. Two of the guards, we later learned, were members of 7th Kommando. The other two, by their size, obviously had the Elemental heritage that we had learned about earlier.

“We were admitted without delay - the duty officer triggered the doors, which swung open silently. Chan preceded us into the surprisingly large chamber - large horseshoe shaped table in the center, with a podium at the open end, and a holotank beyond that.

“A dozen Dragoons officers stood behind their chairs, awaiting us. Chan came to attention, announced us, then turned and pointed us to a pair of chairs two places down from General Wolf’s at the head of the table.

“As Chan walked to his own place on the other side of the table, I took a moment to survey the faces before me. Behind the rigid military masks they wore, I could see resignation, and mourning. An era ended as Kasper and I took our seats.”

Though no one put it in those words, the new reality was that Wolf’s Dragoons had ceased to be mercenaries under contract. They were now an instrument of the FedCom state, and the LCG were their overseers.

Castle Davion, New Avalon
Federated Suns
March 19, 3041

The First Prince got to the phone on the third chime, before he was fully awake.

“Yes?” he croaked as he rolled upright in his bed, cradling the handset to his right ear and rubbing his face with his left. He squinted to read the extra-large clock display on his bedside table - 04:09. Unfortunately, being woken at all hours of the night was an occupational hazard of his position.

At least Melissa was spared the abrupt awakening - she was on her way to the Tamar March for a round of planetary visits.

“Your Highness, this is Colonel Marks in the Situation Room,” came the voice of the duty officer. “We have a possible multi-locale BLACK MAGIC indication.”

That code phrase instantly chased the last remnants of sleep from Hanse’s mind.

“What do you have, colonel?” he asked, reaching for his glasses and swinging his feet out from under the covers onto the floor.

“Three reports, sir. NAIS security patrols interrupted what appeared to be a burglary in progress at the Engineering Hall at local midnight, suspects fled and we’re looking for them. Then an hour ago we received a FLASH FAX about an attack on GUIDEPOST THETA two days ago that was beaten off - we’re attempting to gather additional details. Five minutes ago, we received another FLASH FAX from AWNING PSI about a similar thwarted attack on their site.”

Hanse bit back on the urge to swear.

“Alright, Colonel. Call in everyone. I want a full briefing in one -”

“Wait one - excuse me, your highness,” cut in Colonel Marks apologetically. “We just received a third FLASH FAX reporting an attempted infiltration of FOUNDATION SIGMA.”

FOUNDATION SIGMA was on Outreach. This time, Hanse did swear as he reached for his robe.

Title: Re: A Reckoning
Post by: cawest on 02 March 2019, 00:31:47

man what an update. 

Title: Re: A Reckoning
Post by: mikecj on 02 March 2019, 02:44:45

Nice, thanks for sharing.

Title: Re: A Reckoning
Post by: alkemita on 03 March 2019, 23:56:46

Quote from: cawest on 02 March 2019, 00:31:47

man what an update.

That was meant positively, I hope?

Title: Re: A Reckoning
Post by: alkemita on 03 March 2019, 23:57:19

Quote from: mikecj on 02 March 2019, 02:44:45

Nice, thanks for sharing.

You're welcome

Title: Re: A Reckoning
Post by: cawest on 04 March 2019, 18:50:51

Quote from: alkemita on 03 March 2019, 23:56:46

That was meant positively, I hope?

OH  YEA!!!

Title: Re: A Reckoning
Post by: namar13766 on 05 March 2019, 09:21:03

The irony is that Comstar is being upfront in giving the DCMS royal grade tech. It's just that the DCMS thinks the Clan-grade tech of the FedCom is what Royal tech is supposed to be. I can forsee at least two consequences of this:

• The DCMS will develop tactics against opponents wielding Clan-grade weaponry
• The Combine will distrust Comstar for providing obviously inferior technology.

Title: Re: A Reckoning
Post by: EAGLE 7 on 05 March 2019, 13:09:39

Glad the story has been updated.
Thanks for sharing

Title: Re: A Reckoning
Post by: alkemita on 05 March 2019, 22:28:49

Quote from: namar13766 on 05 March 2019, 09:21:03

The irony is that Comstar is being upfront in giving the DCMS royal grade tech. It's just that the DCMS thinks the Clan-grade tech of the FedCom is what Royal tech is supposed to be. I can forsee at least two consequences of this:

• The DCMS will develop tactics against opponents wielding Clan-grade weaponry
• The Combine will distrust Comstar for providing obviously inferior technology.

Good points.

Also - the DCMS knows their new shinnies are not up to par with the AFFC, but does ComStar know?

Title: Re: A Reckoning
Post by: Fyrwulf on 11 March 2019, 01:09:38

It always baffled my why ComStar thought they could be so cavalier vis a vis the FedCom. States that can only lose a war generally go out of their way to avoid starting one with a state that would happily provide curb stomping services if provoked.

Title: Re: A Reckoning
Post by: alkemita on 11 March 2019, 16:32:55

Quote from: Fyrwulf on 11 March 2019, 01:09:38

It always baffled my why ComStar thought they could be so cavalier vis a vis the FedCom. States that can only lose a war generally go out of their way to avoid starting one with a state that would happily provide curb stomping services if provoked.

Well, my take on the canon version is that they know they have overmatch in that they can not only read everyone's mail, but also slow the mail to a crawl. Interdictions are scary things to the successor states. ComStar has successfully bent successor states to their will using interdictions in the past.

Title: Re: A Reckoning
Post by: alkemita on 31 March 2019, 22:44:30

NOTE: This update is a bit abrupt. It's the first half of something that just kept growing and growing, so rather than drag things out, I decided to post this on its own.

---

Fort Kemper, Outreach
Federated Suns
March 16, 3041

The preparations for tonight’s mission had been intricate, meticulous to a fault, and cautious to an unheard of degree, even by covert ops standards.

Six months of planning and activity since the mission had been authorised by Precentor ROM himself.

Precentor V Kalia Mustapha sealed the last seam of her sneak suit - the best that ROM could build, it cost more than most Light-class BattleMechs - and swept her eyes around the interior of the moving van, dimly lit by red light torches.

Getting thumbs-up signals from the other five members of her team, she gave a hand signal. Adept Wang, the designated driver and overwatch, killed the torches in response.

The low-light goggles worn by the team adjusted almost instantly. On another hand signal from Mustapha, Adept Harper opened the loading door of the moving van and exited, followed by the rest of the team.

It was three hours after local nautical twilight, and time for their mission to begin.

Mustapha’s Team Four-Rho was one of the best in ROM’s Covert Operations Branch. Covert Operations’ mandate was the suppression of technological advancement by the Successor States (and technically, also the Periphery realms, although the idea of technological advancement there was widely considered a bad joke). To carry out their mandate, they had blanket authorisation to blackmail, sabotage and assassinate.

Six months ago, Team Four-Rho had been recalled from refresher training and summoned to the Royal Sandhurst Academy headquarters of ROM. There, Precentor ROM had given them orders to infiltrate and destroy a newly-identified research and development facility on Outreach, home of Wolf’s Dragoons.

After the initial briefing with the whole team, Mustapha had been asked to stay behind - never a good sign.

Precentor Seneca did not disappoint. He told a shocked Mustapha that they had reason to believe that the Dragoons and their FedCom allies had somehow made multiple breakthroughs in weapons technology that surpassed the limits of Star League Royal-level upgrades.

The very thought of ComStar losing their place as the technological front-runners in the Human Sphere was a borderline heresy within the Order. Blessed Blake had ordained that they were the Light to Mankind; when the fallen masses of humanity realised the error of their ways and turned to the teachings of the Blessed Blake for salvation, ComStar, as His instrument, would be ready to pour out the blessings of LosTech to uplift and succor them.

Though shaken, Mustapha was fanatically loyal, and swore to Seneca that Team Four-Rho would accomplish the mission.

Due to the incredibly tight security around Outreach, the planning and staging phases were the hardest Mustapha had ever undertaken, by a considerable margin.

A direct raid was ruled out almost immediately. The orbitals were too well defended, and the Dragoons had a Near-Space Tracking network to rival those installed on capital worlds.

That left infiltration. The best option would have been to cover them as a newly-formed mercenary unit looking for work. ComStar controlled the Mercenary Review Board after all, and establishing their bona fides would have been no problem.

However, the security controls on Outreach would make bringing in their specialised equipment problematic. It would be difficult to explain, for example, why a Lance of Mechjocks needed sophisticated signal gathering and processing equipment. If they posed as a Special Forces mercenary group (they did exist), the equipment would make more sense, but would also draw unwanted additional scrutiny and potential complications - such as being asked to leave their equipment in secured storage.

That left going in covered as “ordinary” ComStar personnel. That had certain advantages. Team Four-Rho would certainly blend in. ComStar had nearly three hundred personnel on-planet, divided between HPG staff, MRB branch office administrators and a platoon-sized infantry security force.

There were also disadvantages.

Due to the barely-concealed antipathy that the Dragoons had for ComStar, not to mention the unspoken mutual suspicion between ComStar and the FedCom, the movement of ComStar personnel on Outreach was quite restricted.

By necessity, ComStar had a storefront office in downtown Harlech where people came to buy HPG access. However, the actual HPG was almost fifteen klicks outside city limits, on an arid plain devoid of any plant life taller than some hardy grasses and shrubs. A single road connected the HPG compound to a secondary highway into Harlech. Beside the HPG complex itself was an accomodation compound, basically a barracks by another name, for all the ComStar personnel on Outreach.

Those that worked in the MRB branch office and the storefront comms office commuted daily between their accomodation and downtown Harlech in coaches. Their movements were predictable and widely known. Any deviation from them would be noticed.

So began a careful infiltration process.

In ones and twos, Mustapha’s team had travelled to Outreach covered as HPGs techs or MRB worker drones. Once there, they spent their first few weeks actually doing the jobs that their cover stories said they did, in order to blend them into the crowd of yellow-robed Acolytes that did much of the grunt work of the Order.

Their equipment, by necessity, had to come in separately, and much of the delay in executing the mission came from the extreme measures that were required to bring in their gear.

Their sneak suits, for example, had been disassembled. The base artificial cloth layers came to Outreach stuffed into a container, posing as packaging filler for a HPG component. The components of the optical enhancers of their suits were shipped as diagnostic tools for the medics in the ComStar Compound. Their compact power packs were hidden inside a hollowed out industrial battery, a multispectral-scanner was repackaged as a multimeter - it went on and on.

They even had a brief scare when a forklift mishap at the DropPort caused a container containing some of their lockbreaking tools to be crushed. Fortunately, the damage was so bad that none of the specialised tools were recognisable afterward. Unfortunately, they had to wait while a new set was sent out to them.

When all was said and done, the only thing they couldn’t actually smuggle in were firearms. But, those were easy. The local ComGuard security carried Serek 7875D autopistols as their sidearm, and they simply appropriated six of them from the HPG armory. Even better, the weapon was nearly ubiquitous in the Davion half of the FedCom - it was the standard sidearm of the old Armed Forces of the Federated Suns, and half the police forces in the Sarna, Crucis and Capellan Marches also issued it to their officers.

Although they were slug throwers and not their preferred lasers, beggars couldn’t be choosers, and every member of the team was cross-qualified in a bewildering array of small and not-so-small arms anyway.

As it turned out, they had badly needed the waiting time to conduct reconnaissance on their intended target. They did this by travelling to the MRB offices, changing into street clothes inside, and then leaving again to carry out their surveillance. Thank Blake for hooded robes to confound any watchers.

Then they had a tight timeframe to put eyes on target - a base at the edge of Harlech - and return to the MRB office, get changed and leave with the admin drones at the end of the day.

Their painstaking work had paid off - a gully ran past Fort Kemper to a small park with on the shores of Lake Bolger, two kilometers away. Careful investigations showed that the gully was monitored by remote sensors, but nothing they couldn’t cope with.

Better yet, at one point, the gully passed within fifty meters of the perimeter fence, and at closest approach, it was almost exactly halfway between two widely separated gates with their attendant guard posts, which would reduce the number of guards they could expect to encounter.

They had their ingress point.

Mustapha kept low as she stepped out of the van, silently moving up beside Harper. They had extremely sophisticated radios built into their sneak suits, but were trying for extreme comms silence. The FCIC had markedly improved their capabilities in the past decade, and there was no sense in taking chances this close to the lair of the beast.

Reaching Harper, Mustapha tapped his left forearm.

In return, Harper gave the “all clear” signal. On Mustapha’s further hand command, Harper led the way to a steep-sided culvert hidden amongst the vegetation, followed by Mustapha and three more. Wang remained with the van.

It took almost eighty minutes, moving agonisingly slowly and carefully, to reach their first waypoint. Their movement had been complicated because the stream at the bottom of the gully, usually only a trickle, had been swollen by a rare rainstorm that afternoon, forcing Team Four-Rho to hug the sides of the gully. It also made it slightly more complicated for Adepts Sandhu and Feinstein to bypass the sensors they encountered, but only slightly. Sandhu had once hacked a security station while suspended upside down, thirty meters above the ground in a ventilation shaft. Four-Rho didn’t have their elite reputation for nothing.

Harper took the lead once more at the waypoint. Moving at a practiced, inhumanly slow pace, he raised a tiny, writing stylus-sized camera above the lip of the gully. A thin wire ran from the back of the camera down to a splitter. Two wires branched from the splitter. One was plugged into Harper’s suit, the other into Mustapha’s.

Together, the pair watched the feed that the suit was displaying in their right eyepieces.

Fifty meters away lay the outer defences of Fort Kemper. The set-up was stock-standard, driven by several millennia of human conflict. From their location, the ground was clear right up to a six-meter tall chain-link fence, with razor wire rolls positioned at ground level and every two meters above that.

Ten meters of cleared ground lay between the outer fence and the inner, eight meter high ferrocrete curtain wall. Lamp posts were spaced twenty five meters apart in the cleared zone, and a paved path for the sentries to walk ran from lamp post to lamp post.

Harper slowly panned the camera from side to side, then froze as the lens picked up movement on the path. A pair of sentries dressed in Dragoons urban camo uniforms and cradling Federated Long rifles came down the path, heads swivelling up, down, left and right, clearly alert.

Mustapha noted that one of the pair was just shy of two meters tall in her combat boots. What, she wondered, not for the first time, was the Dragoon obsession with hiring enormous infantry?

Harper tracked the sentries with the camera, estimating their rate of movement. They had previously left remote cameras at this and other spots around the Fort perimeter and gotten a pretty good feel for the patrol routine. While each shift seemed to start their perimeter patrols at a random time, after that, there was always a nineteen to twenty-two minute gap between patrols.

It was a piece of good fortune that a patrol had just passed their position. More hand signals, and the quintet of operatives started a 18-minute countdown in their sophisticated eyepiece displays.

Now Harper and Feinstein slowly popped their heads above the ground, moving at a precise rate that allowed the suit’s active camouflage technology time to adjust smoothly and keep them concealed. One more scan of their surroundings, and the pair pulled themselves fully out of the gully, belly-crawling forward toward the outer fence at the same maddeningly precise rate.

Mustapha went next, accompanied by Adept Henriques. Sandhu would remain behind as local overwatch.

It took the quartet nearly five minutes to get to the fence. By the time Mustapha got there, Harper and Feinstein were already breaching it, using a chemical spray that simply dissolved the metal wire.

As they waited for the spray to work, Mustapha allowed herself a second of satisfaction that their analysis was correct. Sensors in their suits were picking up infrared scanning sweeping over them, but the fence itself was not alarmed, probably to prevent false positives from the local wildlife.

Now Feinstein shuffled his body into the gap in the outer fence. For a moment, he had to move faster than the suit’s active camo system could keep up with, and he was suddenly there, visible. He didn’t look like a person, but the mismatch between his surroundings and that his suit was displaying made it obvious that something was there. It was a long second before the system caught up and he vanished from sight again.

Mustapha let out a slow breath and took her turn through the gap. Although they had picked a spot equidistant from adjacent lamp posts, there was still a huge amount of illuminated bare ground to cross.

Despite the challenges, two minutes later, they were huddled against the inner wall. Now Mustapha and Henriques took over the lead, deploying climbing claws and scaling the next obstacle.

The timer dropped below ten minutes as Mustapha slid over the parapet and dropped onto the two-meter wide walkway behind. A moment later, Henriques joined her, facing the other way.

While waiting for Harper and Feinstein to join them, Mustapha turned her head and got her first good look at the interior of Fort Kemper, orienting herself to the maps she had seen.

Two concentric rings of buildings lay within the walls of Fort Kemper. Below the curtain wall were low slung blocks, probably barracks and admin buildings. Between them and the inner ring of buildings ran wide service roads, which on one side broadened enough that it probably also served as a parade ground. As she watched, a flatbed mover carrying one of the Dragoons’ Badger hovertanks made its way along the near-side service road.

One of the large buildings in the inner ring was Team Four-Rho’s target.

Barely audible thumps signalled the arrival of Feinstein and Harper. Mustapha cancelled the countdown in her display and activated her comms for the first time tonight, sending a double-click of static that would let Sandhu know they were at the second checkpoint.

Once inside the fort, they could actually move more quickly. The myriad buildings and shadows they cast made things easier for the camo systems, if they were willing to accept less than perfect coverage.

Less than fifteen minutes later, the team was covering Feinstein while he bypassed the security systems on a loading dock at the rear of their target building.

Mustapha didn’t know what operative had obtained their target information, but to this point it had been almost flawless, leading them directly to where they needed to go. She thought a silent prayer that Blake’s blessings would fall on him or her.

Of course, that was when the first complication happened.

The door opened, and a janitor stepped out, carrying two large garbage bags.

Everything stopped.

The janitor stepped right past the team, not seeing them. He walked to the industrial bin behind them, slung the bags in with practised ease, closed the heavy covers, turned around -

And tripped over Mustapha.

The janitor was almost the size of those giant Dragoons infantry, and he knocked Mustapha down.

The active camo system instantly became useless with the rapid movement, and the astonished janitor gasped as a figure dressed all in black appeared out of nowhere right in front of him as he scrambled to his hands and knees, fixated on Mustapha.

It cost him his life. Henriques grabbed the man from behind and twisted his head viciously to the side. The crack of his breaking neck seemed awfully loud, but he dropped dead instantly.

It took three of them to stuff the body into the fortunately mostly empty industrial bin.

After checking that everyone was okay, the team proceeded into the building, now wielding the janitor’s security access card. Most of the corridors were darkened, which hindered them not at all. Neither did the obvious security cameras - their sneak suits made them invisible to the sensors.

Rounding a corner in accordance with their memorised directions, Mustapha noticed a secure elevator lobby, right where their information said it would be. That was not their access point, however. Passing it, they came to a halt in front of an emergency stairwell. This was where their intel ran out.

Feinstein pulled out his bypass kit again, but paused momentarily to look through the window inset into the door - he was the closest thing the team had to a chronic jokester. Mustapha rolled her eyes and turned to watch the corridor.

Five minutes and four flights of stairs later, Feinstein disarmed yet another door and the team spread out in another corridor on a secret sub-level of the base.

The corridor was actually dimly lit in red emergency lighting. It was also surprisingly large - Mustapha estimated that it was six meters wide and at least five meters tall. Did they bring vehicles through here?

It was also long - to the left, they could see the corridor terminating in a T-junction almost forty meters away, but to the right, it stretched away beyond the limits of their optics.

Mustapha gestured, and Feinstein moved toward the T-junction with Harper.

Another gesture, and Henriques slid past her to check out the right side of the corridor.

Mustapha started to follow, but a triple-click sounded in her earpiece. Come here, it meant, and it had to have been Harper or Feinstein who sent it.

Henriques was already backpedalling in response to the same signal, but keeping his eyes on the long corridor.

A minute later, Mustapha was stacked up at the T-junction next to Harper as he extended the stylus-cam (again plugged into her optics) around the corner.

Her breath caught as the cam cleared the wall.

This end of the T-junction terminated ten meters away in an armoured sliding door four meters wide and at least five tall. The words “TEST CHAMBER S4-01” were stencilled on the door.

But it was the pair of sentries either side of the door that made her pulse pick up.

The perspective funnel tricked her brain for an instant - she thought she was looking at BattleMechs guarding the door - but then reality reasserted itself. The figures were roughly half the height of the door - so about two and a half meters tall. No ‘Mech was that small.

Humanoid in appearance, the armoured torso was topped by a bulge - no neck.  The right arm, longer than the left, terminated in an obvious weapon muzzle. The left arm sprouted a wicked looking three-tined claw, and there was another weapon underslung. The lower legs were disproportionately large, with a bulge behind that calf that extended almost to the heel.

Harper tapped her arm and made the sign for a query - what are they?

Mustapha simply shrugged her shoulders, but suddenly put the pieces together in her mind.
This had to be some sort of Powered Armour, like the Tornado suits her team sometimes used, which had the same camouflage capabilities as the sneak suits, but also increased their strength and bearing capacity.

Unfortunately, if they’d wanted to use Tornados on this mission, they’d still be smuggling in components next year.

But those PAs, if that’s what they were, were ludicrously big - for a normal sized human, but, realized Mustapha, not for those oversized Dragoons infantry they saw all over Outreach.

Mustapha was still mulling over this conclusion when Henriques, who had the rear-guard, tapped her shoulder.

---

Captain Mason Calvados-Kincaid was accompanying the 0200 guard relief.

As the Company CO, he didn’t normally stand Duty Officer shifts, but Fifth Platoon’s Lieutenant Greiner got married last week, so Calvados-Kincaid had simply taken his place on the roster so that his other four platoon commanders didn’t have to pull extra duty while Greiner was on his honeymoon.

The duty officer was supposed to inspect each post at random intervals, and tonight he figured that he’d observe the shift change as well.

Like Corporal Juno and Private Hearst, he was suited up in his Elemental Battle Armour. He had been part of the R&D team that had worked on replicating the remarkable suits. The one he was wearing was part of the second production run they’d put out at the underground factory in the Outback, and it was almost the equal of the Clan originals.

He’d only worn it for a few hours to this point. Some of the older Dragoons infantry had told him that you needed between ten to twelve hours wearing and using any particular suit to get them seated and synched optimally, so he was taking this opportunity to build up his hours.

They left the Company armoury and headed for the armoured doors that opened onto the long tunnel to the R&D complex under Fort Kemper.

As they approached the doors, his HUD popped up an access code demand from the base’s security system. Using his eyes, he activated a keypad in his HUD and blinked out the correct code.

The system was satisfied with his answer, and the armoured doors slid open to reveal the long tunnel, lit only by red emergency lights, before them.

“Relief detail entering Main Street,” Corporal Juno radioed ahead to their comrades while the trio marched toward their post.

“Good copy, Relief,” came the reply. The voice sounded bored, which was both good and bad. Calvados-Kincaid remained silent - random inspections were pointless if they knew you were coming, after all.

Despite the dim lighting, the trio could see perfectly well, thanks to the low-light gear built into their suits. Wrapped in the same advanced armour that protected the Dragoons’ BattleMechs, they also carried a BattleMech-grade laser in their right arms, backed up by an anti-personnel machine gun mounted to their left arms. If they were going to take on BattleMechs - an astonishing idea for most infantry - they could also mount a two-shot missile launcher in a detachable backpack. And the legs of their suits also mounted jump-jets capable of lobbing them ninety meters at a time.

In essence, they were the ultimate infantry, and Calvado-Kincaid was honoured to have command of one of the three Elemental companies fielded by the Dragoons.

More for practice than anything else, he flicked his eyes to the top of his viewport, accessing the optical function menu, and began cycling through vision modes, watching the view down the tunnel change as he toggled them - vislight, infrared, ultraviolet, contrast enhance -

Wait.

He flipped back to ultraviolet, then infrared.

There it was again, just for a fraction of a second. A… smudge, for want of a better term, would briefly  appear at the right side of the upcoming T-junction as he switched modes, then vanish.

A glitch? Sighing to himself, he selected the diagnostic menu and ran a check on his optics. They’d had a batch of issues with the first run, and he’d gotten almost as good as the techs in trouble shooting the suits, but he hadn’t seen anything like this before.

System Nominal, announced the HUD.

Damn. With reluctance, he selected the relief detail’s comms channel.

“Corporal, Private, either of you having HUD glitches in enhanced viewing modes?” he asked.

“No, Captain.”
“Negatory, Skipper.”

“Okay - check out the T-junction up ahead and cycle through your view modes, tell me what you see.”

“Sir?”

“Just do it, Corporal, it may be nothing.”

“Aye, sir.” A pause.

“All I see is the tunnel,” remarked Hearst.

“Hold on,” That was Juno, who stopped abruptly. Calvados-Kincaid had to dig in his heels to keep from running into her. “There’s… something on the right, but I can only see it for a split second when -”

“When you change modes,” Calvados-Kincaid nodded.

“I see it now too!” Hearst announced.

“Okay, stand by.” So much for surprise inspections. Calvados-Kincaid switched comms channels. “Post Four, this is SHADOW-6 with the Relief. Do you see anything at Main Street Junction?”

“Negative, Captain.”

Calvados-Kincaid ordered the guards to do what he had done, and both detected the same odd distortions.

Calvados-Kincaid thought fast and switched channels again.

“LOOKOUT, SHADOW-6. Possible SNEAKER. Roll the QRF and lockdown the complex,”

Corporal Juno visibly tensed inside her armour.

“SHADOW-6, LOOKOUT. Copy possible SNEAKER. QRF is alerted, lockdown commencing!”

The main lights snapped on almost violently inside the tunnel - and a quartet of figures suddenly appeared, right where the “smudge” had been.

Sneak suits! Calvados-Kincaid realised, as before his eyes, the quartet began to fade from sight again.

Without waiting for orders, Corporal Juno sprinted forward, Private Hearst at her heels. Both levelled their machine guns at the infiltrators.

“Freeze! Stay where you are!” bellowed Juno through her external speakers as she advanced.

The pair of Elementals who had been guarding Post Four came out as well to surround the intruders.

Calvados-Kincaid sprinted forward to catch up.

“QRF is entering Main Street!” came the call over his radio as he drew level with Hearst and Juno, who was now calling for the intruders to deactivate their suits and raise their hands.

A beat passed, then one by one, the intruders turned off their active camo systems, and slowly raised their hands.

“Wait a min -” started one of the Post Four guards, and then chaos erupted as two of the intruders opened fire on the Elementals.

Calvados-Kincaid instinctively ducked, and checked his movement a fraction of a second later - pistols couldn’t hurt him. He tried to line up a shot on one of the shooters, but Hearst had already put five rounds in him.

Too late, they realised the shooting was a distraction. While two of the intruders had fired, the other two had sprinted forward. One smashed into Juno’s leg, then rolled clear.

Calvados-Kincaid barely had time to register a black ovoid object appearing on the inside left knee joint of Juno’s suit when the explosive charge went off.

It was powerful for its size - vaporising most of Juno’s left leg and taking a large chunk of her right. The blast sent sharpnel everywhere in the tunnel - Calvados-Kincaid could hear and feel projectiles clattering into his armour, while his HUD catalogued armour depletion all over his suit.

Calvados-Kincaid tried to track the intruder who had wounded Juno, but he or she had been caught in the blast too, and was now bleeding out on the ground.

The other pair of intruders hadn’t been as successful. Post Four had shot both dead, but their explosive had gone off as well, blowing both Elementals off their feet.

“We’re okay, sir!” one of them radioed even as Calvados-Kinkaid turned to Juno’s broken body.

“Medic!” called Hearst as he stood over his squadmate. “She’s still alive! Medic!”

Title: Re: A Reckoning
Post by: alkemita on 31 March 2019, 22:48:26

Forging the Pack - The Untold Story of Wolf’s Dragoons in the Reckoning
By Drs H. R. Cowan & T. S. Choi
Pub. New Avalon Press, 3068

In the aftermath of the March 16 attacks (it remains a mystery to this day why the attack on the NAIS happened three days after the rest), a fundamental reassessment of Project BUILDING was undertaken, with far reaching consequences.

The attacks themselves were the spark that lit the flame, but the catalyst was the grim-faced group that assembled at 0530 in the Tank (secure briefing room) under Mount Davion on March 19, 3041.

Hanse Davion had called in everyone on New Avalon who was cleared to know the full scope of Project BUILDING. The full list of attendees at that meeting is still unknown, but historians have able to identify at least eight of them.

Besides the First Prince, the others included:

• Justin Allard, the new Intelligence Secretary and first Head of the Federated Commonwealth Intelligence Corps (FCIC) - he had assumed his post only a week earlier, making this crisis very much a baptism-of-fire for him.
• Marshal of the Armies Ran Felsner, Commander-in-Chief of the Armed Forces of the Federated Commonwealth (AFFC).
• Hauptmann General Lydia McDermott-Chalice, Commander of the Department of Military Communications and Research (DMCR), who was on-planet mainly by happenstance, having come to deliver status briefings.
• Baroness Baljit Dhawan, Director of Project FRAME (WarShip Construction)
• Hauptmann General Kasper Nowak, Deputy Chairman of the Liaison and Coordination Group (LCG) - also on-planet for the same reasons as General McDermott-Chalice.
• Dr Byron Hestic, Chief Design Engineer (BattleMechs), Blackwell Industries
• Marshal Serenity Cardinali, Lyran State Command Liaison

Secretary Allard opened the meeting by summarising the latest intelligence on the attacks.

A total of five Project BUILDING black sites had been hit (information about the WarShip complex attack came in between the time Prince Davion called the meeting and when they actually convened).

The damage done ranged from nothing, as in the case of the NAIS raid, to considerable, at the GUIDEPOST site, where the facility that was attempting to reproduce Clan-grade autocannons lay in smouldering ruins.

Damage at the other sites varied. Due to security rules, we have no idea what ComStar’s agents managed to inflict at the other sites, although some references in the Gorrich Leaks seem to imply that an orbital factory connected to the WarShip project was partially vented to vacuum before the ROM strike team could be put down.

At this stage, forty-three personnel, mostly security but also including several researchers and engineers, were confirmed dead and twice that wounded. The final toll would be fifty-one dead and seventy-two injured, the latter number including three Elementals who had been saved by their battle-armour.

In return, virtually all the ComStar operatives were killed. Only two members of the Team that struck Outreach are definitely known to have escaped, and they only did so because they did not enter the black site itself.

ROM was immediately assumed to be behind the attacks. The motivation fit, the equipment carried by the strike teams fit, and they were probably the only organisation capable of pulling off such a large-scale operation.

Prince Davion apparently did ask if it was possibly a DEST or Death Commando operation, but the evidence did not bear that out. FCIC had continued to keep an eye on both organisations, and although their view was far from perfect, they were fairly certain that House Liao’s Death Commandos, gutted in the Fourth Succession War, had only been partially rebuilt at this stage and therefore did not have the manpower to hit five sites simultaneously, while the Draconis Elite Strike Teams continued to be highly active on the Lyran-Rasalhague-Combine border since the Six Months War, enough so that most of them could be accounted for, and they were all in the wrong place to carry out these attacks.

The uncomfortable, unanswerable question central to the situation was: How much did ComStar know?

Attacking R&D sites to prevent the recovery of LosTech was standard operating procedure for ComStar. It had worked well enough for them over the preceding centuries. And it was no secret that the FedCom was exploiting the data recovered from the Helm Memory Core - it also served well as a natural cover story for Project BUILDING.

So ComStar apparently felt that the FedCom’s technological gains had reached a threshold they could not tolerate, and had acted accordingly.

But their operation had failed. And ComStar’s backup plan was unknown. They knew that Interdiction was always a possibility - the old Federated Suns had been briefly Interdicted in the dying days of the Fourth Succession War, and it had been an unpleasant experience, to say the least.

To partially counteract the possibility of Interdiction, especially since their own HPG research still had a long way to go, the DMCR had put more effort into alternate means of interstellar communication. In fact, the information that they had received about the March 16 attacks had come in over these alternate networks.

DMCR was therefore ordered to accelerate the expansion of their alternate network. HPG research was put on the back burner, except for one area. Exploiting the knowledge of the Dragoons, more personnel were to be trained to operate HPGs. This was seen as insurance against an Interdiction, risky as it was. But when it came to maintaining Interstellar communications links, all options had to be on the table.

In consultation with those in the Tank with him that morning, Hanse Davion ordered that Project BUILDING be triaged.

In a way, the cooperation of the Dragoons had been a tainted blessing. Clan technology was theirs for the examining, but there was so much of it that it strained their resources.

Project BUILDING was in danger of stretching itself too thin.

The problem, as always, came back to time and resources. There were some things they knew they could figure out, with more time. And there were other things they had already figured out how to build, but required infrastructure and technologies they did not have.

The appropriately astronomical cost of doing all of this was also rapidly becoming a factor. Both Prince Hanse and Archon Melissa had made several “show the flag” tours of key planets in order to shore up support - without being able to discuss the reasons for their strange spending priorities. Some Lyran economic pundits were in fact asking if the Federated Suns half of the superstate was too much of a drain on the traditionally strong Lyran economy, forcing the sovereigns and their proxies to spend a lot of line on the road. In fact, Archon Melissa was missing from this meeting, having departed on another such tour through the Terran and Tamar Marches.

The criterion that was established by Davion and his advisors at this meeting was that only those weapons and technologies that could realistically make it into mass production by the end of the year would continue to be resourced as a priority.

Over the next week, every facet of BUILDING was assessed, and either deprecated or given increased priority.

It should be remembered that BUILDING’s focus was the wholesale uplift of the AFFC. The Dragoons had proven that it was possible for the Inner Sphere to produce Clan-grade weapons and materials. The problem was scaling up production to meet the needs of an interstellar nation.

As an example, Blackwell facilities on Outreach had been turning out Ferro Fibrous armour since 3031 - but only ten tons per month, with up to a third of each batch rejected for manufacturing defects.

Similarly, Blackwell built its first Clan-grade Class 20 Ultra autocannon in 3032, and could produce one per month (the breech mechanism was problematic), mostly by hand.

These methods were not viable for re-equipping an entire army, leading First Prince Davion and his Advisors to concentrate on what was viable.

Thus the die was cast, and the AFFC was shaped for The Reckoning.

The destruction of the GUIDEPOST facility fatally set back the autocannon program. Beyond the loss of materials and machinery, two senior engineers and a Dragoons technical expert had died in the attack. Thus the AFFC in general would enter the Reckoning fielding no Clan-grade autocannons beyond those recovered by the Dragoons from the BRISTOL cache.

The paucity of functioning microgravity manufacturing facilities would similarly doom efforts to make sufficient quantities of Endo-Steel structural elements for BattleMechs and AeroSpace fighters.

For other reasons, sophisticated ECM packages and Active Probes were also culled. It was adjudged that it would take too long to make them viable. In fact, the only systems packages to continue development were the Clan version of the Artemis IV fire control system for missile launchers, and the guidance packages for the Clan Anti-Missile System.

The laser weapons program fell victim to its own success. The AFFC had working models of Clan-grade small-, medium- and large- class lasers relatively early, in both Extended Range and Pulse models.

Due to the expense and extremely high degree of precision manufacturing involved, it was decided that there was only enough production capacity to put one each of the Extended Range and Pulse models into mass production. The medium- class lasers were selected, not without a lot of bitter debate. What seems to have swayed the argument was the concurrent news that Clan-grade ER-PPCs would also be going into production, thus lessening the need for the Large- class lasers.

The WarShip program was probably the toughest cut of all. The AFFC had been cautiously optimistic that they could find some sort of a counter to anything the Clans had in their arsenals, except WarShips. This was why Operation SKYLARK had been approved, even in the middle of a war - they wanted the Dragoons’ WarShips as soon as possible. The need was considered even more critical because the Dragoons had warned that the Clans probably would not respect the Inner Sphere conventions that JumpShips were sacrosanct and not to be attacked.

In the end, the scale of LosTech recovery that would have to be undertaken in order to make a WarShip building program viable defeated Project AWNING’s personnel. They instead switched their focus - there were a number of crippled WarShips of the old Federated Suns and Lyran Commonwealth navies still in existence. The AWNING team would now try to put them back into service.

In the interim, production of the Alamo nuclear missile was quietly stepped up, and selected Fighter Wings of the AFFC sworn to secrecy were rotated to remote systems where they practiced anti-WarShip strikes against Dragoon vessels.

The news was not all bad.

The development of Clan-grade Ferro-fibrous armour was actually ahead of schedule, to the point that Johnston Industries and Defiance Industries had been given licences and orders to bring it to mass production. At this point, the first production runs were estimated to be six months away (it would eventually take eight, with Defiance beating Johnston to the punch by ten days).

Clan Long Range and Short Range missile systems were also spared the axe. The Artemis IV and Streak packages were evolutionary extensions of Star League technology that were reasonably well understood in the FedCom military-industrial complex. In fact, the largest technical hurdle faced by Project BUILDING was replicating the lightweight launcher designs.

The Lyran half of the FedCom had been building Extra-Light engines since 3035, and this allowed the FedCom to get a headstart on understanding the more advanced and compact Clan XL engine technology. In the end, the engine team just barely made the end-of-year deadline, but only by lowering their goals and confining mass production to less than half of the engine models originally envisaged.

Double Heat Sinks, or Freezers, as they were known to the FedCom, were one of the first LosTech recoveries, predating Project Building. In fact, the NAIS had already distributed schematics of the Star League model to a plethora of manufacturers throughout the FedCom, who were making money hand over fist from it.

The more compact Clan version tackled by Project BUILDING relied on changes to the coolant formula that were not well understood in the Inner Sphere. With limited supplies of the coolant to examine for reverse-engineering purposes, there were some stumbles, and this important technology barely made the year-end deadline. Even then, contamination issues with coolant production kept full scale distribution of the Clan freezer from starting until mid 3043.

Finally, Project BUILDING was able to replicate two of the most devastating direct-fire weapons in the Clan arsenal - the aforementioned Clan Extended Range PPCs and the Gauss Rifle.

The former had already seen action during the Six Months War in the hands of the Dragoons. The latter had not, but all who saw footage of the gauss rifles being tested became instant believers. Quality control issues bedevilled the first gauss rifle production run, which technically ran it afoul of the year-end deadline, but such was its potential that the FedCom persevered with it.

Title: Re: A Reckoning
Post by: cawest on 31 March 2019, 23:51:30

what about the WD factory  on New Valencia?

Title: Re: A Reckoning
Post by: Shadow_Wraith on 01 April 2019, 01:13:37

Nice update!   So will the FC get a chance to study the Comstar Sneaksuits?

Title: Re: A Reckoning
Post by: cklammer on 01 April 2019, 13:20:39

Any status on double heat sinks and the compactness and mass availability thereof: this would solve so many issues if a plug-in replacement for single heat sinks were available en masse and able to produced at at least one site per PDZ/March ...  8)  :drool:

Nice Update - something for everyone and everything for all. Well done!  :thumbsup:

Title: Re: A Reckoning
Post by: alkemita on 01 April 2019, 16:09:21

Quote from: cawest on 31 March 2019, 23:51:30

what about the WD factory  on New Valencia?

I was under the impression that the WD factory on New Valencia was packed up and moved with them when they switched employers.

Title: Re: A Reckoning
Post by: alkemita on 01 April 2019, 16:09:55

Quote from: Shadow_Wraith on 01 April 2019, 01:13:37

Nice update!   So will the FC get a chance to study the Comstar Sneaksuits?

Bits and pieces of them, anyway.

Title: Re: A Reckoning
Post by: alkemita on 01 April 2019, 16:11:22

Quote from: cklammer on 01 April 2019, 13:20:39

Any status on double heat sinks and the compactness and mass availability thereof: this would solve so many issues if a plug-in replacement for single heat sinks were available en masse and able to produced at at least one site per PDZ/March ...  8)  :drool:

Man, I was so tired when I posted this last night I dropped the paragraph about DHS. I'll go back and edit when I have the chance.

Quote

Nice Update - something for everyone and everything for all. Well done!  :thumbsup:

Thank you. Glad you're enjoying the story.

Title: Re: A Reckoning
Post by: EAGLE 7 on 01 April 2019, 16:30:33

Really like the details of this last post.
The problem with reactive camouflage is any light source will cause shadows to any 3 dimensional object.
Eg.
You might look like a brick wall, but you will still cast a shadow as a man shaped object.

Title: Re: A Reckoning
Post by: Daryk on 01 April 2019, 16:51:51

The only thing I'd quibble with was the decision to go with ER and Pulse Mediums vice Larges.  Against the clans, you need every long range weapon you can get, and nothing outranges the ER Large.

Title: Re: A Reckoning
Post by: alkemita on 01 April 2019, 21:10:51

Quote from: Daryk on 01 April 2019, 16:51:51

The only thing I'd quibble with was the decision to go with ER and Pulse Mediums vice Larges.  Against the clans, you need every long range weapon you can get, and nothing outranges the ER Large.

Very true - but the AFFC also has another string to its bow - sheer mass.

Title: Re: A Reckoning
Post by: cawest on 01 April 2019, 21:14:30

can you break down a list of Star league and Clan tech they trying to field?

Title: Re: A Reckoning
Post by: alkemita on 01 April 2019, 21:49:49

Okay, I modified the last post to re-insert the discussion about Clan double heat sinks.

Title: Re: A Reckoning
Post by: alkemita on 01 April 2019, 22:01:23

Quote from: cawest on 01 April 2019, 21:14:30

can you break down a list of Star league and Clan tech they trying to field?

Going from my rough notes here:

They already have Star League Tech in the field, thanks to the Helm core. Not every unit in the AFFC has it, but you can bet they're all screaming for it.

As for Clan Tech, prior to the March 16 attacks, they were trying to field everything that the OTL Invading Clans would have had - OmniMechs and OmniFighters included.

Post March 16, the list is smaller, but still substantial:

CONSTRUCTION MATERIALS:

Ferro-Fibrous & Ferro-Aluminum Armour
Double Heat Sinks
Some XL Engines (exact list still being worked out as I design the 'Mechs)

WEAPONS:

ER-PPCs
Gauss Rifles
ER Medium Laser
ER Medium Pulse Laser
LRM launchers (all sizes)
Streak SRM launchers (all sizes)
Artemis IV
Anti-Missile System

Title: Re: A Reckoning
Post by: Sir Chaos on 02 April 2019, 02:02:49

No regular Clan SRM launchers?

But then, since they can basically swap IS SRM launchers with Clan Streak SRM launchers of the same size, they don´t really need the standard ones.

Title: Re: A Reckoning
Post by: alkemita on 02 April 2019, 09:12:35

Quote from: Sir Chaos on 02 April 2019, 02:02:49

No regular Clan SRM launchers?

But then, since they can basically swap IS SRM launchers with Clan Streak SRM launchers of the same size, they don´t really need the standard ones.

Right, and Streaks are the game changer for that particular system, so that's what they're going to shoot for

Title: Re: A Reckoning
Post by: Dave Talley on 02 April 2019, 10:51:42

well,
serious SRM spam could be a major game changer,
such as a Kintaro now having 2 LRM 5s or 5SRM 6s
plus extra ammo
😀

Title: Re: A Reckoning
Post by: alkemita on 28 April 2019, 22:15:57

Firstly, my apologies - this is not an update.

I know many of you have been waiting for the next installment of A Reckoning - I can see the thread view counts climb almost daily, and I am humbled by your interest in and enjoyment of this product of my sometimes unruly imagination.

I had to split the current installment. The first half was the last installment I posted.

I've been working on the second half of it, but it has continued to grow, and now I find that I have to split it again, which means more re-writing to ensure each section has a proper intro and outro.

On top of that, I am now going overseas for a month, with limited access to the 'Net.

I've run out of time to get another update up before I leave.

However, I want to assure everyone that A Reckoning will, for better or worse continue. I have parts of the Third Act already written, and I know how it ends.

Thank you all in advance for your patience.

Title: Re: A Reckoning
Post by: EAGLE 7 on 28 April 2019, 22:41:26

Have a great trip overseas,  will be looking forward to your next addition to the story.

Title: Re: A Reckoning
Post by: cklammer on 29 April 2019, 13:49:57

No worries, have a nice and safe trip.  :thumbsup:

Thank you very much for the excellent tale so far.  ;D

Title: Re: A Reckoning
Post by: alkemita on 15 September 2019, 22:20:30

Camberley, United Kingdom
Terra (ComStar Protectorate)
June 07, 3041

“Four whole Teams wiped out, two more gutted, and almost nine billion C-Bills of equipment lost.”

Precentor ROM glumly summarised the report on his tablet.

The only response from Precentor Blessing Laurent was an equally glum nod.

“At least we have Adept Roehner’s report,” she offered. Blake’s Wrath hadn’t been hit this hard since the days of the Hidden Wars. The loss of over thirty highly skilled operatives was a real blow.

“Ah, yes,” Charles Seneca flicked over the enhanced version of the picture captured by the lone survivor of Team Nine-Rho that had hit the secret FedCom complex in the Galax system.

The image, still slightly blurred despite being run through processing software, had been captured through the porthole of an evac shuttle, and showed an air-dock occupied by a Congress-class frigate - a WarShip class that was supposed to be extinct.

Laurent shifted in her seat. “What?”

Seneca turned his head to look out the window at the immaculate Sandhurst grounds.
“Blessing, don’t take this the wrong way, but that pic might make this one of the last conversations you and I ever have.”

One of Laurent’s eyebrows elevated involuntarily. Seneca was not given to such dramatic statements.

“Can you amplify?” she asked carefully.

Seneca turned back to face her, an ironic smile on his face.

“You know that our honored leader has been gradually cleaning house among her top advisors since she ascended to the throne,” he began, knowing that Laurent would catch the reference to Primus Waterly.

“And she prizes those who think like her,” chipped in Blessing.

“Exactly.” Seneca pointed at the tablet on his desk. “So when the only solid lead we got back from Op PYRITE was this pic, she fixated on it -”

“And her little circle went along with it - Mori, Li and Aziz,” finished Laurent, naming the Precentors who represented ComStar’s interests in the Draconis Combine, Capellan Confederation and Free Worlds League respectively.

Seneca barked out a laugh. “Who would have guessed that those three bureaucrats were such skilled intel analysts?” He leaned forward. “Did you know, Precentor Laurent, that the reason we got this image is a sign from Blessed Blake himself that cuts to the heart of the matter, and exposes the FedCom’s darkest secret?”

“And Blessed Blake is telling us…?”

“That Hanse and Melissa Steiner-Davion are building WarShips! That is the secret they have been hiding all these years!”

“What other explanation could there be?”

“Plenty, but none they will listen to. The reach and span of what the FC is doing is way too big, even for something as complicated as a WarShip program. It has to be something else, but that’s all irrelevant now.” Seneca slumped back in his chair, and looked back out the window.

“Focht has been directed to massively expand our own WarShip program as a Priority Alpha Directive.” He sighed. “Rebuilding your Teams will almost certainly take a back seat, I’m afraid.” Laurent managed not to wince at that.

“And since they have discounted the alternatives offered up by my department and myself, I have to conclude that my days as Precentor ROM are coming to an end.” He turned again to look Laurent in the eye.

“Blessing, -”

“Don’t worry about me,” she interjected. “Everyone knows we are close, and if you go down, I’m probably out as well. I’m ready for this.”

A moment passed between them, interrupted by the opening of the ornate office doors.

Blessing spun in her chair - it wasn’t a good sign that Seneca’s assistant hadn’t announced the visitors.

Two yellow-robed adepts stepped into the office. Badges depending from a neck chain proclaimed them to be members of the Primus’s staff.

Blessing spun back to face Seneca, who had risen from his seat.

“Well, it appears my time is now,” he said quietly to her. Then, he addressed the two Adepts.

“Let’s go,” he said as he marched straight-backed out of his office for the last time, passing between his escorts.

Title: Re: A Reckoning
Post by: alkemita on 15 September 2019, 22:21:41

Strana Mechty
Clan Neutral Territory
July 18, 3039

“We’re coming up on the terminator, Dechan,” Tulliver reported from her bunk in the cramped cabin. She was staring out the small porthole.

Fraser put down the tablet he’d been studying and slid down the length of his bunk to join Tulliver at the two-decimeter diameter porthole. All was inky black outside, but by looking “down”, or deck-ward, they could see the slowly rotating globe that was their destination.

Deep-blue oceans cradled a grey-green landmass. With a moment’s recall of the map he’d studied, Fraser identified the continent of Cameron, located in the southern hemisphere of Strana Mechty, the capital world of the Clans.

Most of the continent was nightside, with scattered points of light denoting settlements and what looked to be at least three major cities.

Reorienting himself, his eyes traced north to the other continent that should be there - Novy Terra.

Finding it, he waited as their DropShip crossed the line from day to night, and then, he saw it…

One week earlier

Fraser opened the door to his quarters, letting out a sigh as he did so.

It had been another long day in the simulators, with Kerensky and himself demonstrating to Ward and a couple of staff officers (one MechWarrior and one Pilot) from the Office of the Wolf Khans how Inner Sphere forces would handle particular tactical scenarios. They had started after an early breakfast, with only a single break for lunch, and each scenario was followed by an extensive debrief. It was well past sunset when they finished.

When it was all over, Kerensky and Ward had gone off together, and the staffers had retreated to their quarters, so he figured he’d do the same.

All he wanted was a drink, a shower and even the food seemed appealing right now. Followed by sleep. Plenty of sleep.

There was a pair of Elementals standing in the living area.

Aww, crap!

“Dechan. Come with us,” said the one wearing the rank tabs of a Star Commander.

“Right now?” he blurted out before he could stop himself. Seriously?!

The Star Commander just gave him a look and walked out the door with his partner.

With a resigned sigh, Fraser followed the pair.

They travelled into parts of the complex he’d never seen in all his time there. Fraser’s unease began to grow - this was all too similar to the way his interrogation had started.

He lost track of how far they had walked, how many elevators they’d taken, turns they’d made and doors they’d passed through, but his general sense of direction told him that he must be underground by now.

One final turn, and Fraser found himself in front of a metal door with the Clan Wolf symbol etched into it in exquisite detail.

Two more Elementals - in full Battle Armour - flanked the door.

His escort stopped and parted. The Star Commander gestured for Fraser to walk toward the door.

His mouth dry, Fraser complied.

As he drew level with the door guards, their arms snapped up in salute.

Startled, Fraser returned the gesture.

The door slid open before him, to reveal - nothing. All was black beyond.

“Hey, what -”

He was shoved from behind and fell into the room, the door sliding shut much faster than it had opened.

Oh, shit.

He picked himself up, massaging his left shoulder. Feeling his way around the room in the pitch black, he estimated its dimensions at three meters long, and the same wide.

His heart pounded in his chest, and his mind raced as he ran the palms of his hands over every square centimeter of the room. He had nothing on him except his Clan Wolf ID bracelet - a “codex” was what the natives called it - and it was useless as a tool.

Without warning, a second door opened to his left - he thought it was on the opposite wall from where he’d been shoved in, but he was thoroughly disoriented by now. The sudden burst of light from that direction caused him to shield his eyes even as he spun in that direction.

Framed in the doorway was a humanoid figure, clad in a form-fitting outfit made of grey leather that covered the wearer from throat to boot-tops. The boots and gauntlets worn by the clearly female figure looked similar to MechWarrior gear, but stylised stitching and lines in the design hinted at the shape of paws and claws. The effect was only strengthened by the mask that topped the ensemble - a snarling wolf’s head, teeth and tongue visible. A short cloak of fur trailed to mid-back, fastened at the throat by a round black clasp stamped with a red hourglass.

Natasha!

It had to be - he could see her blue eyes through the eye holes in the mask.

Some of the dread drained from his body as he realised that this was probably the Wolf Clan Rite of Adoption.

Not all though - from what Natasha and other original Dragoons had told him, there was still a definite element of danger to come.

The spotlight on Kerensky snapped off abruptly, plunging Fraser back into darkness.

A second later, Kerensky reappeared in the beam of another spotlight, several meters further away, one hand motioning for him to follow.

He did so, even as Kerensky backed out of the light, only to reappear further along.

Okay, this is where it gets interesting, thought Fraser, trying to recall all he’d been told as he shuffled toward her.

Kerensky suddenly snapped her arms up and out at a forty-five degree angle, blocking two sword blades from descending.

The Pack defends the Foundling - it was coming back to Fraser now.

Fraser picked up his pace and ducked under Kerensky’s arm. As he passed, Kerensky dropped her hands and the sword blades whistled through the space he’d just occupied.

He felt Kerensky move past him as the spotlight snapped off. How can she see where she’s going? He wondered.

The next spotlight snapped on, revealing Kerensky blocking a sword thrust coming from her right. She used her free left hand to point to Fraser’s right side.

The Foundling helps the Pack

Fraser stopped - heard a noise to his right and braced. A sword blade appeared with alarming speed, skewering the air just centimeters in from of his abdomen. Half on instinct, he grabbed the swordsman’s wrist and twisted, disarming him.

Picking up the dropped blade, he hurried past Kerensky as that light died. This time, Kerensky kept pace with him in the darkness, her gauntlet on his shoulder telling him where she was.

Suddenly, she jerked him to a halt. Yet another spotlight transfixed them, and yet another pair of sword blades flashed out of the darkness at them.

The Foundling fights with the Pack

As if rehearsed, Fraser and Kerensky brought up their own swords together to meet the attack - where did she get a sword? Fraser thought irrelevantly as blocked a flashing blade with his own. Their opponents were swinging hard - he could feel the impact all the way up his arms.

He lunged forward and used his blade to push his foe’s own blade out of the way and back into the darkness.

Bracing for the spotlight to vanish again, Fraser was caught off guard when a second spotlight snapped on, illuminating a female Pilot, dressed like Kerensky in Wolf ceremonial leathers.

Despite her diminutive size, she radiated power and authority - not surprising once Fraser caught sight of her rank tab bearing the single oversized star of a Clan Wolf Khan. This had to be the Wolf Clan’s saKhan - Laurel Mehta.

In Fraser’s peripheral vision, he saw that Kerensky had lowered her sword, and he followed suit as Khan Mehta began to speak, her rich voice filling the chamber.

“Trothkin, seen and unseen, near and far, living and dead - rejoice, as the Wolf has brought us a foundling.” She paused for a moment, then continued. “Not since the end of the Founder’s campaign to reclaim the Pentagon Worlds has someone volunteered to join us. That time is long past, a thing of legend, but none shall deny the rede of it.”

Into the silence that followed, many voices whispered from all around, “Seyla”.

“I am the Oathmaster!” Khan Mehta continued, her voice growing in volume and harshness. “All will be bound by this Conclave, until they are dust and memories, and then beyond that time until the end of all that is!”

“Seyla!”

The Khan turned her head from side to side as she continued. “The Wolf’s wisdom is not in doubt, but mayhaps there are those who believe that the Wolf’s generosity is too great.”

She paused, then stabbed a hand in Fraser’s direction, while shouting, “Who would deny this pup his life?”

Fraser’s heart rate, which had settled a little, began to rise again. This part of the ceremony should be pro-forma, but technically someone could challenge his adoption into the Wolf Clan Warrior Caste, which would trigger a combat trial. Kerensky and others had told him that they’d never heard of challenges happening with Wolf Clan adoptions, although it had apparently occurred (rarely) in some other clans.

So he tensed a bit as a second Pilot emerged from the shadows on the right into a newly lit circle and removed his Wolf’s head mask. Fraser recognised him - Point Commander Mateo had been on the crew of the DropShip that had brought him to Tranquil.

The Khan nodded slightly. “I recognise thee, Mateo of the Wolves,” she intoned. “What say you?”

“Oathmaster,” Mateo replied formally. “It is my ken that this pup need fear nothing from the air.” He replaced his mask, but did not step back into the shadows.

“I ask again - who would deny this pup his life?” And another circle of light blazed to life.

From the left came an Elemental, moving fluidly despite his size. Fraser recognised him too when he unmasked - Point Commander Jamal, the one who he’d fought trying to avoid being interrogated.

“I recognise thee, Jamal of the Wolves,” prompted the Khan. “What say you?”

“Oathmaster,” Jamal rumbled, “It is my ken that this pup need fear nothing from the hand.” Jamal paused before replacing his mask, inclining his head briefly in Fraser’s direction. Fraser returned the nod.

“Once more I ask - who would deny this pup his life?” A final blue-white circle of light splashed on.

Now a MechWarrior stepped into the light.

“I recognise thee, Cyrilla Ward of the Wolves.”

The light turned Ward’s white hair into a halo as she unmasked and spoke. “Oathmaster, it is my ken that this pup need fear nothing from his peers.” She spared him a quick grin before replacing her mask.

Fraser looked at the tableau before him.

“Approach, pup,” commanded the Khan. As she spoke, the circle of light around her tripled in size, overlapping with some of the others.

Fraser willed his legs to move with military precision, taking him from his circle to an unseen mark a half-metre from the Khan.

Suddenly inspired by the occasion, he executed the best sword salute he’d ever given. A rumble of approval from the unseen audience arose at his action even as Khan Mehta returned it.

Fraser felt a tingling in his spine. This was where his information ran dry. Whenever the Rite of Adoption had been discussed with him, the adoptee had been a warrior captured by another Clan and made a bondsman - a specialised type of Prisoner of War.

He wasn’t a bondsman. He was a volunteer. How would this play out?

“Trice I have called to challenge, and trice defenders have risen for him. Sponsored by the Wolf, warded by the Clan, all is in order.”

Another pilot approached - the Khan’s aide, Fraser saw, as he was not masked. In his hands was a sword belt and scabbard. With quick, expert movements, the belt was fastened around his waist.

Fraser sheathed the sword as the aide stepped back.

As his right hand returned to his side, the Khan seized it just short of his elbow and thrust his arm into the air.

“Let us rejoice and let the Pack howl with pride! The Wolves have a new warrior amongst us!”

“Seyla!”

Dechan Fraser was now a Warrior of the Wolf Clan.

Now…

“Oh my…” the words left Fraser’s lips involuntarily.
“Yes,” breathed Tulliver next to him.

Coming into view on the planet below them was a blob of light. As the planet rotated beneath and the DropShip descended, the blob came into sharp focus.

And sharp it was.

Fraser’s mercenary career had taken him to more worlds than the average person, and he had seen his share of spectacular sights, from five-kilometer high waterfalls to sea creatures the size of islands, but now he was looking at a mega-engineering project and monument to the Clans’ collective hubris.

Spread below him was a city laid out as a five-pointed star, fully seventy kilometers wide. The central pentagonal area was ten kilometers on a side, and each of its five arms spanned thirty more.

The golden lights clearly defined what had to be boulevards hundreds of metres wide if he could see them from this altitude. Although the layout of the major streets differed from arm to arm, their regularity and pattern spoke to the imposition of human order over natural chaos.

As if to drive home the point, nested between each pair of arms was a more subdued and jumbled mass of lights. From their reading Fraser and Tulliver knew that these areas were the remains of the original settlement that the star-shaped city had been built over.

At the tips of the eastern, western, south-eastern and south western arms of the city were Drop-Ports. They could see the drive plumes of DropShips launching and landing on all four. The volume of traffic underlined the importance of this city.

“Enjoying the view?”

Fraser and Tulliver spun. They’d been so engrossed that Kerensky had entered the cabin unnoticed.

“It’s amazing,” Fraser offered.

“Better than the holos,” added Tulliver.

Kerensky nodded, then took a seat on Tulliver’s bunk.

“This is it, guys. We’re coming out into the open. Remember, Katyusha City down there is neutral territory for the Clans, so you should be fine, but keep your guard up.”

She turned to Tulliver - “I know you’re dying to do some field research on Clan culture down there, but do me a favour and try not to annoy someone into killing you.”

Tulliver actually pouted at the warning. She was still a bit ticked off that she’d not been able to observe Fraser’s adoption ceremony, and had peppered him with so many questions that he had jokingly claimed that she was as bad as the questionnaires the Watch had made them do when they first arrived - which hadn’t improved her mood any.

“And you,” Kerensky turned her glare on Fraser. “Now that you’re a badged warrior, there’s always going to be some moron from another Clan who’ll want to prove a point. Stay sharp.”

And she swept out of the room before either could respond.

Three days later….

The fact that Fraser was trying to recall the protocol for challenging a superior officer to a Trial of Grievance let him gauge just how annoyed he was.

A quick glance to his right, and he didn’t need to be a mind reader to know that Natasha Kerensky was thinking the exact same thing.

The only reason why Cyrilla Ward was not thinking the exact same thing was that Galaxy Commander Lionel McKibben was her peer, not superior, in rank.

That, and the fact that they needed his cooperation.

As the commander of the Wolf Clan garrison on Strana Mechty, he had authority not just over his own Lambda Galaxy, but also all other permanent facilities and forces on-planet.

That included the Trial ranges and access to them so that Fraser and Kerensky could contest their Trials of Position.

As Ward had explained it during their sub-orbital hop from Katyusha City to Fort Andrey Kerensky on the Cameron continent, she could invoke the authority of the Khans to get what they wanted, but the political costs could lead to possible repercussions down the road.

Given the plan they were following and the expected massive effect on Clan society, it was extremely desirable to minimise repercussions.

“It matters not that this… adoptee” - Fraser noted that Galaxy Commander McKibben had managed to avoid saying his name or even acknowledge his new Warrior Caste status - “is required to pass a Trial of Position. He has six months to do so by the Warrior Code, and therefore he has no need to cut in line ahead of other candidates who have closer deadlines.”

Fraser found himself beginning one of Tom West’s breathing exercises.

“Besides,” continued the sneering officer, tapping his tablet screen, “all our resources are fully booked for the next two months. There is no room in the schedule to insert another Trial of Position for just two candidates.”

He actually smirked at Ward, and Fraser put a warning hand on Kerensky’s left arm. With some bemusement, he saw that Ward had simultaneously done the same thing to Kerensky’s right arm.

These actions earned the pair of them dagger stares from Kerensky, but she kept her mouth shut.

“If I may, Galaxy Commander,” replied Ward, taking the tablet from McKibben’s desk before he could react.

“Hey!”

Ward ignored him and started to scroll through the schedule.

“Let us see - on the morning of the twenty-sixth, High Ideals Sibko 442 is taking their Trial of Position. They have two candidates only. You can fit another pair of candidates into that trial and save yourself the bother of scheduling a new one.”

McKibben rose from his seat and snatched back the tablet from Ward’s hand.

“Do not presume to tell me how to run my command, Cyrilla Ward!” he barked.

“I would not need to tell you anything if all were in order!” Ward shot back.

“The only thing out of order is your continued devotion to Kerlin Ward’s misguided plan,” snarled McKibben. “Tainting the Warrior Caste by adopting a freebirth Spheroid!”

Ward drew in a sharp breath. “Were the stakes not so high, I would meet you in a Circle of Equals for that, Lionel McKibben. As it is, Natasha Kerensky and Dechan Wolf will take their Trials of Position on the twenty-sixth. You have no grounds to refuse.”

And with that, Ward spun on her heel, dragging Kerensky and Fraser along in her wake.

Commendably, Kerensky waited until their car was moving before she… spoke.

Back in his office, Galaxy Commander McKibben counted to ten before releasing his death-grip of rage on the arms of his office chair.

It was always the same - no matter how spectacular his achievements, how great the victories he won for his adopted Clan, he would never be the social equal of someone like Cyrilla Ward.

She was of House Ward - an exclusive Bloodname to Clan Wolf. He was of House McKibben - a Bloodname shared between Clans Wolf and Coyote, and therefore not as prestigious in either clan. Even worse, the McKibbens were actually more prominent in the latter Clan, where he had been born.

She had been a ristar, promoted fast and far, eventually becoming a Khan. He’d had to fight like a feral for everything - his initial Trial of Position, every promotion, and then, after his capture by Clan Wolf, he’d had to start all over again.

Ward had been sponsored by a Khan for her Trial of Bloodright. No one had sponsored him for his. He had to fight his way into his Bloodright Trial by defeating all comers in a Grand Melee.

The Clans claimed to be a meritocracy, but it didn’t feel that way to McKibben. Well, over the years, he’d learned many tricks for cutting off his supposed social superiors at the knees. Ward could act all high-handed with him, but he would have the last laugh.

His face twisted in a cruel sneer as he activated his desk comm.

“Chief Technician Pollux, report to my office immediately.”

Title: Re: A Reckoning
Post by: alkemita on 15 September 2019, 22:22:11

“You’re - you are doing it again,” Fraser murmured just loudly enough to be heard by Tulliver as they walked along the wide pedestrian concourse.

His companion sighed, but reined in her tendency to rapidly swivel her head as they walked. After their frustrating experience with Galaxy Commander McKibben, Ward and Kerensky had taken to the simulators to blow off steam. Fraser had been invited along, but declined, knowing that a simulator run in his current state would just anger him further.

Instead, he joined Tulliver in exploring Katyusha City.

It was a fascinating and disorienting experience. He had been to worlds that had highly diverse populations, but nowhere else in the Inner Sphere were you likely to find giant Elementals and elfin Pilots coexisting with more normally sized humans. Fraser suddenly flashed back to his youth, recalling his older cousin Simeon, who’d been obsessed with the fantasy genre with its plethora of races rubbing shoulders in everyday life. Simeon would probably love this.

Most of the giant Elemental-phenotypes they encountered were not soldiers, however. The vast majority were from the Labourer Caste - something that was easy to discover, since everyone wore their Clan, Caste and Sub-caste sigils on their clothing. Susan had already made several comments on the significance of this display. From his study of Clan society, Dechan knew that those Elemental sibkin who flunked training usually ended up in the Labourer Caste where their strength and endurance would be assets. They had seen two exceptions to the rule - a woman in the technician caste, and a male street hawker of the merchant caste.

The architecture and equipment he saw all around him were straight out of period dramas about the Star League era. Even many of the signs were printed in Standard SLDF font-faces.

As the sun began to set, they crossed into the Merchant Quarter of the city, getting off the elevated train in an area where more variety and colour was present in the signage and shopfronts.

Fraser felt his mood begin to shift as Tulliver dragged him down the street, pausing to look at the same-yet-different wares being displayed for purchase. There was not as much variety as he would have expected to find in a metropolis of Katyusha’s size, and very little by way of luxury goods. Tulliver pointed out that most of the customers for the luxury goods were either other merchants or warriors.

By the time the sun disappeared fully, most of Fraser’s tension had left him. And now he realised he was hungry and thirsty.

“Can we take a break?” he asked Tulliver as she came out of yet another store, this one selling premium protective equipment to members of the Technician Caste.

“Sure, I could use a drink,” she replied as they looked around them.
“There!” Fraser pointed at a neon sign about half a block down on the opposite side of the street - The Long Drink, it proclaimed in cold blue and yellow light, the words bracketed by simple line graphics of drink cans.

Without waiting for Tulliver, Fraser stepped off, heading for the pedestrian crossing that was almost directly opposite their destination. Tulliver caught up as they waited for the lights to change.

The inside of the bar was, like most things on Strana Mechty, both familiar and unfamiliar.

There was the ubiquitous long bar with drinks cabinet behind - but halfway down, it abruptly elevated by half a metre, to accommodate larger clientele. Likewise, the bar stools came in three distinct sizes. Tables on the floor were also multi-sized.

There wasn’t much decoration in the place, besides thin strands of light rope in blue and yellow that ran parallel and perpendicular to the walls.

They approached the busy bar. Fraser prepared to squeeze his way through a narrow gap between two Technicians, when one saw him coming out of the corner of his eye. The Tech grunted to his companion, gesturing toward Fraser with his chin. The second tech glanced over her shoulder, saw Fraser coming, and without a word, both techs shuffled over to make space for him.

“Thanks,” Fraser said as he reached the bar, nodding at the techs. The pair of them looked shocked at his casual gratitude and actually shrunk back further.

“Caste boundaries, remember,” Tulliver hissed from the other side of him.

Right - ‘cos I’m a high and mighty Warrior, and they’re dust beneath my feet, Fraser thought, but didn’t say. He turned away to scan the offerings on the menu board - unsurprisingly, not much to choose from - half a dozen ales, the same number of “Hards” - which seemed to be wines of some sort, four liqueurs, and about a dozen “Mixers”. Fraser guessed that the last group were cocktails of some sort.

He did note that each drink had an annotation between their name and their credit cost about their point of origin - “from the Nova Cat orchards on Brim” read a typical one.

“What’ll you want?”

Fraser turned with a startled jerk to the bartender who’d just materialised before Tulliver and himself. She was about a decimeter and a half shorter than his 1.8 meters, and had the violet irises and large eyes characteristic of the Pilot phenotype, but not the enlarged head. Straight dark blonde hair was tied back in a short ponytail. On the left side of her face, a jagged scar started in her hairline, swept down her cheek in front of her ear and bent back before vanishing beneath her collar.

She wore a white collared top with black pants and shoes, plus a bib-apron, also in black. A white hand towel was flung over her left shoulder, partially concealing the Wolf Clan and merchant caste badges sewn to her shoulder.

“Ah - still trying to work that out,” Fraser stuttered in reply. “Maybe the house special?” he threw out, even as he felt Tulliver jabbing him in the ribs. He didn’t need to look to know that she was rolling her eyes at him. Just because you’re the anthropologist!


Now the bartender added her own very impressive eye-roll, aided by her out-sized eyes.

“One Amber Standard for the warrior,” she snapped, turning to Tulliver. “You are with him, scientist?” she asked.

“The same for me, please,” Tulliver replied, producing her Credcard at the same time.

“I got this,” Fraser interjected, pulling out his own Credcard. He knew that all castes other than the Warriors received a certain amount of Work Credit - effectively ration points - per month. Warriors didn’t receive Work Credit, per say, but drew from a collective pool that was effectively limited only by the dictates of their superiors. Fraser wasn’t going to let Tulliver spend her resources on a drink.

“You cannot, Dechan,” Tulliver replied, handing her Credcard over to the bartender, who snapped it into a hand terminal to deduct the credit cost of the drink.

“Thank you. Correct Consumption Attribution. Surprised you don’t remember that, warrior,” snarked the bartender as she handed back Tulliver’s card and made to take Fraser’s.

Fraser handed over his card, which was efficiently scanned and returned to him. The moment the bartender left, Fraser turned to Tulliver.

“Work Cred isn’t cash, Dechan,” she told him, picking up on his unspoken question. “It’s a rationing system.” A quick shrug of the shoulders. “Course, if you did anything other than train and plan, you might pick up some street survival skills.”

Fraser thought about firing back some snappy comeback about how combat training was actually a survival skill for him, but thought better of it.

Instead, he leant on the bar and sighed. Sensing his mood shift, Tulliver asked “Hey, you okay?”

Fraser paused, looking around the bar, but everyone was giving the pair of them a wide berth.

“I am so tired of all this bullshit, Susan,” he ground out through gritted teeth. “It’s like…” he groped for the comparison, “like our last contract in the Combine before the Fourth War - where everyone goes out of their way to disrespect you because you’re just slightly different. And all while we’re trying to help the ungrateful bastards.” He swept out an arm to punctuate his words.

“Hey, easy, Dechan,” Tulliver admonished, pulling back his arm. “I get what you’re -”

“Two Amber Standards,” the bartender was back with a pair of straight-sided glasses - at a glance, they looked like half-litre ones. She slapped them down in front of Fraser and Tulliver - but now she was smiling.

“Unity, I’m slow tonight!” she all but laughed. Jabbing a finger at Fraser, her grin just widened, but she kept her tone low. “I wondered what warrior would lower himself to come to a civilian bar, let alone one who did not know how to properly use Work Credit!”

She paused for effect - “You are the adoptee from the Inner Sphere! Declan!” she proclaimed in a hiss
Fraser’s blood ran cold. He glanced all around him, but no one seemed to be paying them any attention right now.

Leaning across the bar, he hissed back “How did you know about that?!”

Tulliver just managed to snatch both drinks away before Fraser up-ended them.

“Information gets around, Warrior,” the bartender replied evenly. Using her over-sized eyes, she indicated that they should move down to the end of the bar.

“I’m taking a calculated gamble here,” the bartender said once they were parked away from the bulk of the clientele.

“What sort of gamble?” asked Tulliver.

“The kind that I hope will lead to profit,” the bartender replied.

“Who are you?” Fraser pressed.

“The name’s Corinne, and I’m a Merchant, Grade 3,” she stated, tapping the caste symbol on her left shoulder. “This is my bar.”

“How did you know about me?” Fraser continued.

“People talk.” Corinne noted the expression on Fraser and Tulliver’s faces, and expanded on her answer. “Look, if you’re really Spheroids, I don’t know if this will make sense to you, but the Warrior Caste is, generally speaking, not good with security, and the other Castes pick things up.”

Fraser exchanged glances with Tulliver. His head was spinning. They’d wandered into a bar, at random, and his supposedly secret existence was anything but.

“So, how many people know about me - us?”

“I’m the only in this room who knows,” Corinne replied. “As a merchant, I interact with the other castes more often than others. You’d be surprised what Techs and Labourers see and hear in the course of their duties. A few of us put the pieces together some time ago.”

“So what are you going to do with this information?” Fraser asked.

“Nothing - for now.” Off their disbelieving looks, Corinne continued. “Look, as a merchant, information can give me an edge in a deal, okay? The Caste Factors and Clan Council evaluate me by how much profit I can bring the Clan. Right now, the conditions aren’t right to use my knowledge about you to spike my profits, and I’m certainly not going to let anyone else know so they can gain an edge.”

“You could sell the information to a rival Clan - they would spike your profits,” pointed out Tulliver as Fraser jerked his head in agreement.

Corinne physically recoiled at that. “That is treason,” she stated flatly.

“And digging for information you’re - you are not supposed to have isn’t?” countered Fraser.

“I keep that information safe from the enemies of my Clan. We know that some of the other Clans treat their other castes a lot worse than the Wolves do.” Corinne returned, with some heat.

“So what do you want, Corinne?” Fraser demanded.

“An exclusive on your knowledge of the Inner Sphere,” Corinne replied. Fraser was surprised to see a slight tremor in her hands.

“Information is power?” Tulliver ventured.

Corinne speared them both with a look. “Partially, yes. But also…” She drew a breath and let it out. “It has been almost two hundred and fifty years since the Great Father led the loyalists of the Star League Defence Force to these worlds. The Inner Sphere is nothing more than myth and legend to those of us descended from those heroes.”

She opened her hands to encompass the pair of them.

“And now, here you come, from out of those legends. Everyone in this room was brought up hearing stories about the Inner Sphere that we wonder about.”

“Like what?” Tulliver asked, just a split second ahead of Fraser.

“Well,” Corinne gave them a lopsided smile, “we’re told that the Scavenger Lords - House Lords, I mean - only allow their relations and loyal retainers to become Mech- and AeroWarriors. So, Fraser, are you a noble?”

Fraser blinked - “What?” He failed to keep a bark of a laugh from escaping his throat.

“I’m sorry,” he blurted out. “It’s just… that’s… I mean…” He paused and started again. “No, I’m not a noble. I was born into a working class family.”

“Oh.”

Fraser didn’t know if Corinne was disappointed or not with his answer.

Tulliver leaned forward. “Corinne, can I ask you a question?” At Corinne’s nod, she plunged on. “I understand that the Clans see the Inner Sphere as a promised land currently under occupation by illegitimate usurpers. The Warrior Caste clearly wants to conquer the Inner Sphere. What do the other castes want from the Inner Sphere?”

Corinne paused, closed her eyes. When she reopened them, they were focused somewhere over their shoulders.

“We want freedom from our lot. To have access to the riches that have been denied us. To spend less than half a standard day in work shifts. To be able to make choices about our lives - where we work, where we play, how many offspring we have, and with whom…”

Tulliver nodded slowly. Fraser could see she had just discovered something significant, and he had a feeling that he had too.

If they wanted to focus and channel the power of the Clan war machine, they would have to win over the Scientists, Techs, Merchants and Labourers too.

Title: Re: A Reckoning
Post by: Shadow_Wraith on 16 September 2019, 07:35:47

Nice update!!  I like the interaction that Deachan and Tulliver had with the local merchant.  Also their observation of Katyusha city!

Title: Re: A Reckoning
Post by: alkemita on 16 September 2019, 07:56:12

Quote from: Shadow_Wraith on 16 September 2019, 07:35:47

Nice update!!  I like the interaction that Deachan and Tulliver had with the local merchant.  Also their observation of Katyusha city!

Thank you. Writing conversations is hard for me, so I'm glad you liked it.

Title: Re: A Reckoning
Post by: ThePW on 16 September 2019, 23:29:52

Please, Moar!

Title: Re: A Reckoning
Post by: alkemita on 17 September 2019, 08:57:25

Quote from: ThePW on 16 September 2019, 23:29:52

Please, Moar!

Working on it...

Title: Re: A Reckoning
Post by: Daryk on 17 September 2019, 16:14:57

Glad to hear it!  :thumbsup:

Title: Re: A Reckoning
Post by: mikecj on 17 September 2019, 22:05:44

Nicely done, the bar scene was great.  :thumbsup:

Title: Re: A Reckoning
Post by: alkemita on 18 September 2019, 16:17:13

Quote from: mikecj on 17 September 2019, 22:05:44

Nicely done, the bar scene was great.  :thumbsup:

Thank you - I wrestled with that one for quite a while, so glad people liked it.

Title: Re: A Reckoning
Post by: cawest on 19 September 2019, 00:02:41

great work.. can not wait for more.  I went back to re-read the whole thing. 

Title: Re: A Reckoning
Post by: cawest on 19 September 2019, 21:17:59

if the fedcom is having economy issues.  their might be a way to help with the tech they have access to. 

One.

The whole IS is short jumpships.  if they could update some slips with lostech.  they could pump out Merchants and Invaders class ships in the short term.  I would go with smaller ships that you can get off the line fast and onto the shipping lanes help the FedCom Economy.  This would help trade all threw out the FedCom.  I also would start up Tramp with LFs as my "show piece".  those could go to the military or set up command circuits.  those would also help cargos move from major routes when not need by a unit.  when war comes you have a pool of ships and some of them will be very good at raids. 

Two
us your tech build up to help marginal worlds be more product and stop any drain they might have on the FedCom.  a lot of those worlds need Air and Water processors.    if they can add just 1% to a planet's GDP.. that is a lot of funds that can go to the FedCom budget.

Three.
I would try to use public and private funds (or maybe an old school lottery?  that was how they used to built public roads)  to make two or three new workmechs factories.  They are great labor savers and they will also increase your possible mech pilot pool in the future.  how to get them out to those who need them?  why not earmark x number per quarter to be won as a..... lottery.  one or two C-Bills per ticket.  this would add more funds to certain projects and it gets the workmechs into working hands.   

Just spit balling. 

Title: Re: A Reckoning
Post by: Dave Talley on 19 September 2019, 22:39:27

And the new jumpships would be fun by the new Fed Suns merchant marines

Title: Re: A Reckoning
Post by: alkemita on 21 September 2019, 23:37:13

Quote from: cawest on 19 September 2019, 21:17:59

if the fedcom is having economy issues.  their might be a way to help with the tech they have access to. 

One.

The whole IS is short jumpships.  if they could update some slips with lostech.  they could pump out Merchants and Invaders class ships in the short term.  I would go with smaller ships that you can get off the line fast and onto the shipping lanes help the FedCom Economy.  This would help trade all threw out the FedCom.  I also would start up Tramp with LFs as my "show piece".  those could go to the military or set up command circuits.  those would also help cargos move from major routes when not need by a unit.  when war comes you have a pool of ships and some of them will be very good at raids. 

Two
us your tech build up to help marginal worlds be more product and stop any drain they might have on the FedCom.  a lot of those worlds need Air and Water processors.    if they can add just 1% to a planet's GDP.. that is a lot of funds that can go to the FedCom budget.

Three.
I would try to use public and private funds (or maybe an old school lottery?  that was how they used to built public roads)  to make two or three new workmechs factories.  They are great labor savers and they will also increase your possible mech pilot pool in the future.  how to get them out to those who need them?  why not earmark x number per quarter to be won as a..... lottery.  one or two C-Bills per ticket.  this would add more funds to certain projects and it gets the workmechs into working hands.   

Just spit balling.

Hey Cawest,

I love your suggestions!

Just to put things in context, the "economy issues" that the FedCom is having is more a case of un-met expectations rather than an actual interstellar-scale global financial crisis.

I drew on canon information about the FedCom merger for part of this. One of the things that anti-FedCom Lyrans persistently raised was that the strong Lyran economy would be tapped to fund Davion wars of conquest.

In my story, the funds that would have been spent on stimulus programs and subsidies have been somewhat curtailed in order to uplift the combined AFFC (which, according to the 20 Year Update) fields somewhere around *200* 'Mech regiments alone, not to mention all the supporting arms.

They're definitely trying to open new production facilities for everything, but there's limits to how fast they can propogate LosTech.

Programs like the Vagabond Schools will not be seeing the expected influx of funds, but many of the big military-industrial conglomerates will be making money hand-over-fist (how many double heat sinks does the AFFC need?)

End result is that some sectors of the economy will see huge growth, and others not so much.

That being said, it's quite nice to have people examining related aspects of my story.

Title: Re: A Reckoning
Post by: alkemita on 27 September 2019, 23:15:03

Forging the Pack - The Untold Story of Wolf’s Dragoons in the Reckoning
By Drs H. R. Cowan & T. S. Choi
Pub. New Avalon Press, 3068

For seven years, Snord’s Irregulars provided security for Interstellar Expeditions’ Field Teams as they criss-crossed the Inner Sphere and Near Periphery.

It was a mutually satisfactory arrangement. In fact, contemporary news coverage of the contract tended to express surprise that the two groups had never worked together before.

By splitting into three reinforced company teams, the Irregulars could provide protection for multiple IE Field Teams simultaneously.

Observers did not have to wait long to see results.

In May 3036, it was announced that IE Field Team 14 (led by the controversial self-taught archeologist Baroness Jennifer Whitley), and protected by the Irregulars’s Second Company had tracked down an abandoned Star League research station just past the edge of Lyran Space, coreward of the Free Worlds League. They managed to recover the remains of several advanced computers that ended up at the University of Washington on Donegal.

Five months later, IE Field Team 9, under Dr Leo Hussein, supported by Third Company, recovered about half of a SLDF Mobile Field Base vehicle from a previously unknown system that had been used as a staging point for the Exodus Fleet.

The stream of discoveries was interrupted by the 6 Months War, when emergency war provisions caused the recall of Snord’s Irregulars to AFFC command, although they spent the entire war as part of the general reserve and did not see action.

Released from the reserve in 3040, the Irregulars resumed their contract with IE. However, the scale of their discoveries never matched their early successes.

We now know, of course, that the Irregulars were part of the Dragoons’ web of plans. Their particular part was to uncover evidence that ComStar was responsible for ****** technological progress in the Human Sphere.

The Irregulars’ past archeological finds were mostly due to their possession of Star League records brought with them from the Clan Homeworlds. That information predated the creation of ComStar. As a consequence, the Irregulars were learning on the job. Their finds in the employ of IE were mainly due to their other role as security, which allowed IE Field Teams to venture into locations previously deemed too dangerous.

However, during this time, they were also carefully sniffing around the edges of the black hole that was ComStar’s hidden plans.

Hard, verifiable facts about the hunt for ComStar’s dirty laundry are scarce. The following represents the authors’ best guess at what happened.

The Irregulars, and their attached 7th Kommando team (believed to have numbered 18 troopers, and possibly named “Silver Wolf”), uncovered the possibility that ComStar had erased certain planets from navigational databases over the years. By comparing their Star-League era atlases to current maps, they were able to identify approximately ninety worlds that seemed to have been marked either “dead” or “failed” mainly on ComStar’s say-so, with little external verification.

Given that hundreds of worlds were de-populated or rendered uninhabitable by the ravages of the Amaris war and the following Succession Wars, it is easy to see how ninety worlds could have dropped off the records with little notice taken.

The Irregulars then began manipulating IE’s decision making process to allow them to look for these worlds.

Sometime in 3037, strong leads pointed to a lost FedSuns world named Versailles in the Markesan Operational Area, and IE Field Team 28, under Dr Ethan Ruiz was dispatched to investigate, with the Irregulars’s Third Company attached as security.

They did indeed find Versailles on July 14th, 3041, but it was a dead system, with the ruins of a failed colony on Versailles IV to prove it.

However, Team 28 somehow discovered that Versailles was a way-point to another world within 30 light years - one not among the ninety candidates they started with.

This world was either named, or code-named, “Taussen”. Team 28’s JumpShip made three jumps from Versailles to likely systems, finding nothing each time.

Their fourth attempt, on October 29th, proved very different.

41°03’55”S 112°49’42”E, [UNKNOWN WORLD]
Markesan Operational Area, Crucis March, Federated Commonwealth
December 02, 3041

“Breaker, wake up.”

“Breaker, it’s your shift - wake up.”

Sergeant Darwin Morgan, universally known as “Breaker”, forced his body to uncurl from it’s slumped position on the fold-down seat in the APC’s troop compartment. It wasn’t much of a slump, thanks to the harness that kept him in the seat.

Now that he was somewhat awake, he could feel the rocking motion of the APC. On cracking open his eyes, he noted that the compartment was still red-lit, meaning it was night outside.

With an effort he swivelled his head up to look at the interrupter of his sleep.

Captain Reuben Salazar’s grimey, unshaven visage looked back down at him.

“What time is it?” Morgan asked as his hands automatically swept his web gear and weapon, verifying that all was in order, as befit a veteran mercenary NCO.

“Just before local midnight,” Captain Salazar replied, extending a hand to help Breaker to his feet.

Breaker took a moment to stretch, running his hand over his own dirty face with its week’s worth of beard.

“Here,” Salazar handed him an Emergency Ration Bar, which Breaker accepted with a grunt of thanks.

“I’ll go relieve Yang now,” he announced as he slipped the bar into his pocket. It was just one more reminder of their dire situation - they had run out of field meal packs yesterday, despite rationing.

“Any changes I need to know about?” he asked, looking around the cramped troop compartment as he sipped water from his hydra-pak.

The opposite side of the compartment was mostly occupied by two stretcher cases - the top one was Joan Grenfell, a field researcher with Interstellar Expeditions’s Field Team 28. The bottom one was MechWarrior Victoria Rose of Third Company’s Command Lance. Both women were currently in drug-induced sleep, courtesy of Sergeant Stepan Durham, the medic. He was asleep too, wedged into the space between the stretchers and the forward bulkhead.

On the near side of compartment were Privates Rhett Hallister, Miriam Park and JJ Vukovik. They were one-fourth of the survivors of Breaker’s platoon. The survivors of Captain Salazar’s Silver Wolf Kommando Team added another handful of troops to their number, but there was less than a platoon of effectives left to them in total.

“No, no change,” Salazar replied neutrally.

Breaker just nodded and squeezed past the Captain on his way to the APC’s driver’s compartment.

Reaching in, he tapped the shoulder of the woman on the right.

“I’ll take over now, Yang,” he said, then backed out of the compartment so that Sergeant Scarlet Yang could vacate the Vehicle Commander’s seat. Once the Kommando was out, Breaker contorted himself into the seat. He had to slide the seat backwards a bit - Yang was not a tall woman - before checking over his station.

The APC was not a sophisticated machine, so he only had four systems to check on. The radio was in standby mode, the Heavy Machine Gun in it’s remote mount responded smartly to his test commands, the nav repeater was on, and finally, the optical enhancement devices were on, turning the view out of his vision blocks into green-shaded monochrome.

Now he glanced over to the left to check on the current driver, Private Yvonne Decatur. She looked alert, concentrating on picking a path through the out-sized forest they had been travelling through for the better part of four (or was it five?) days now.

The tree-analogs that grew here were unbelievably huge. BattleMechs could easily hide behind one. The crowns of the trees routinely topped fifty metres in height. If not for the disconcerting colour schemes (trunks were some combination of greenish-, blueish- or purpleish-grey, with silver, copper or black “leaves”), Breaker could easily imagine that he had shrunk to the size of a dog.

Just as the “trees” were outsized, so was what little wildlife they had seen. The most prominent were animals slightly smaller than their APCs. They looked like eight-legged, four-eared, stalk-eyed hornless rhinos, and travelled in groups of between ten to twenty. The most bizzare thing about the creatures was that their bodies contained enough metallic content for them to register on their sensors in some targeting modes.

Captain Salazar had ordered their little convoy to match the speed and configuration of these “Mega-rhino” groups in an effort to further disguise themselves. As a result, their little convoy was travelling in two staggered columns, with Breaker’s APC leading another APC and  Corporal Archie Ferries’s Demon tank bringing up the rear. Two more APCs travelled parallel to them on the right.

Breaker’s troops and the Kommandos travelled in the two forward APCs. The other two APCs carried the remains of Field Team 28.

Breaker pulled out the Emergency Ration Bar and unsealed the pouch. The bar resembled a double-thickness granola bar. It would keep you alive, but it was in no way appetising. He bit off a piece and chewed mechanically, ignoring the lack of taste.

Decatur pulled the steering yoke to the left in order to work around the buttress route of a tree up ahead. The root was as tall as a bungalow, and ran for the better part of a standard city block.

Breaker kept an eye on the nav repeater as she did so. Every deviation like this added time to their journey to the alternate LZ. He knew Captain H’Chu’s message had gotten through, but whether the DropShip Scavenger would be able to make the pick-up remained in question.

Especially after finding that Taussen was not as abandoned as first thought.

Breaker could still see in his mind’s eye Captain H’Chu’s last moments - her Exterminator coming apart under fire from half a dozen unknown ‘Mechs. He’d remember their odd paint scheme for the rest of his life - white overall, with at least one of the lower arms or lower legs painted solid black. Some of the unknowns had all four lower limb sections painted black.

Subconsiously, he stroked his shirt over his breastbone, feeling the outline of the Milspec memory stick clipped to his dog tags.

Every one of this motley crew carried an identical memory stick. On it was the motherlode - the data they had been searching for all these years. A record of ComStar’s systematic effort to keep the Inner Sphere from recovering LosTech.

Decatur turned the APC back onto their original heading as they cleared the obstacle. Breaker glanced again at the bottom of the nav repeater:

ETA: 49Hr 06Min

Title: Re: A Reckoning
Post by: cawest on 28 September 2019, 00:14:29

50 hours.... that is a long time for things to go sideways on you. 

Title: Re: A Reckoning
Post by: Daryk on 28 September 2019, 04:13:07

For anyone in that situation, "forever" pretty well sums it up...

Title: Re: A Reckoning
Post by: alkemita on 28 September 2019, 08:25:08

Quote from: cawest on 28 September 2019, 00:14:29

50 hours.... that is a long time for things to go sideways on you.

It could be argued that things have already gone upside down, but I know (and intended) what you meant.

(It's good to the the author) :-)

Title: Re: A Reckoning
Post by: alkemita on 08 December 2019, 18:26:48

A/N: My apologies for the long delay between installments. I have been accepted into a writing program, and that's had to take priority. I will continue to update A Reckoning as able.

Strana Mechty
Clan Neutral Territory
July 22, 3039

“You are confident in your conclusions, quiaff?” Ulric Kerensky asked from behind his desk.

“Neg, Khan Ulric,” replied Tulliver, prompting more than a little astonishment from the others in the kaKhan’s office. Cyrilla Ward nodded a little to herself as she recognised that Tulliver, though no warrior, had serious reserves of courage to contradict a Khan.

“If I might explain?” she continued.

“I insist that you do,” replied Ulric, while saKhan Mehta jerked her head once in agreement with her senior Khan.

“Thank you.” Tulliver glanced over at Dechan and Natasha before turning her attention back to the Khans of Clan Wolf.

“I said ‘neg’ just now because I have no conclusions yet, my Khans. I have some hypotheses, and from them, I have developed a theory.”

“And you believe your theory will help us win the coming conflict.”

“I believe that if my theory is right, we can unlock the potential of the civilian castes as a force multiplier for the war, yes,” Tulliver clarified.

“Well, I for one will be happy if you are correct, Scientist Susan,” grumped saKhan Mehta. “From our analysis of the Dragoon database, our Touman will have to be expanded by over sixty percent in frontline clusters alone in order to meet the strategic demands of the situation. And that does not begin to consider the need for second-line clusters and PGCs to garrison what we take.” She tapped her stylus on the arm of her chair in irritation. “Laborer Foreman Patricia and Chief Technician Marceo have both insisted that there is very little additional capacity in our factories, while Merchant Factor Chandra looked like he would pass out when I presented the logistic requirements to him.”

“You developed this theory from one conversation with a merchant?” Ward heard herself asking, somewhat incredulously.


“With all due respect, Galaxy Commander, I am an anthropologist by trade. I study cultures and societies. Just walking down the streets of the different quarters of Katyusha City - and I did quite a bit of that yesterday as MechWarrior Dechan will confirm - gives me enough information to form several hypotheses about Clan culture in general. When I join those observations with the information I received from the merchant, it becomes clear that there is more going on below the surface than the Warrior Caste knows about or acknowledges.”

Ward felt her face tighten at the implication that the Warrior Caste - and herself, by association - were missing anything at all in their rule over Clan Wolf. Ulric and Laurel’s faces mirrored hers. Dechan and Susan carefully maintained neutral faces, while Natasha, in her usual fashion, appeared to be bored by the whole matter.

“What would you need to prove or disprove your theory?” asked Ulric finally.

“I need to carry out some field studies - of all the Clans. There are differences between them that I need to take into account.”

“So you need to carry out an intelligence operation,” saKhan Mehta clarified.

“Aff, saKhan.”

“The other Clans will not agree to an outsider coming in to do an open study. So this will have to be a covert intelligence operation.”

“Again, aff, saKhan. And at the risk of sounding arrogant, anthropological field research can sometimes share more than a few similarities with covert intelligence gathering.”

Ulric exchanged a look with Laurel. “Very well. Coordinate with the Watch.” He ran a hand over his face.

“Thank you, Khan Ulric,” Tulliver all but beamed at him as she left the office.

Once the door had closed again, saKhan Mehta turned to Natasha. “You have not said a word about this Star Colonel. Why?”

Kerensky marginally straightened her posture. “Because it is both tiresome and obvious if you stop and think about it.”

“Perhaps it is to you,” snapped Mehta. “You will enlighten those of us who do not have your knowledge, quiaff?”

Now Natasha came fully upright in her chair. Ward saw Dechan shoot Natasha a warning look that she ignored.

“Aff, saKhan. We are all dependent on one another. We warriors like to crow about the glory we win and the protection we afford. Reality is, we do not win any glory or protect anyone without the work of the other castes. My OmniMech does not function, your OmniFighter does not fly, without the work of the Techs who maintain them, the Merchants who source expendables for them and the Labourers who built the damned things in the first place.”

“That is the natural order of things, as set down by the Founder,” Mehta stated.

“But, if I have read your history correctly,” chipped in Dechan “there is an implicit promise that this order of things was created to make the best use of scarce resources - and that when the Clans have access to the Inner Sphere again, such measures will no longer be necessary.”

“So you are saying that the lower castes will see any move into the Inner Sphere by the Warriors as presaging the end of… current conditions?” Ulric interjected.

“Aff, Khan Ulric,” replied Natasha, her tone suggesting exaggerated patience with a slow learner.

“So, we need to get ahead of the expectations of the lower castes. Which means approving Scientist Susan’s study is the right first step.” He punctuated his comment by ticking off some item on his tablet.

“To other matters,” he continued looking back up. “Status of our two candidates?”

Ward stirred. “Natasha and Dechan will do their pre-Trial physical assessments tomorrow. This should be a formality - they have both regularly passed them since arriving at Tranquil.”

“Good.” Ulric checked off another point. “What about the actual Trial itself?”

Ward shifted in her chair and flicked at an invisible piece of lint on her uniform trousers. “Galaxy Commander McKibben’s staff has been cooperative to the exact point required, and no more. It appears that his disdain has infected them. But no matter, Dechan and Natasha are on the schedule.”

“Are they going before or after the sibkid candidates?” saKhan Mehta asked.

“Neither - each of them has been paired with one of the sibkids,” replied Ward. On seeing Mehta’s expression, Ward continued “Did you want to change the schedule so Natasha and Dechan test together?”

“Neg,” said Mehta after a moment and an agreeing nod from Ulric. “We cannot allow any suggestion at all that this office influenced the Trials in any way whatsoever. Splitting up the candidates in this way is unusual, but not forbidden. It is Galaxy Commander McKibben’s prerogative to set the order of the Trial. ”

“Politics is all about perception. I concur,” Ward shrugged.

Ulric stood, and all present likewise came to their feet. “Very well. Thanks to the sterling work put in by saKhan Mehta, my next few days will be filled with organisational meetings. I believe you will be sharing the joys of at least one of them with me, Cyrilla Ward -”

“I look forward to it, ovkhan,” snarked Ward.

“ - so I will not see either of our candidates before their Trial date, but I do intend to be there. Natasha, Dechan, Skill and Honour to you.”

“Skill and Honour,” replied Natasha and Dechan as all saluted the Khan of Clan Wolf.

Cyrilla led the other two from the office. Once they were back in the corridor, she heard Natasha pipe up, “Back to the simulators, quiaff?”

------------------------

Fraser’s left hand slapped at the reactor shutdown override switch while he wrenched his ‘Mech back upright.

The excess heat from cracked reactor shielding, coupled with the abuse his Timber Wolf had already taken, made its response to his commands sluggish.

Ahead of him, at one o’clock, his next opponent, a hundred-ton Dire Wolf, raised its arms, bristling with weapons pods and fired again.

One of the four Extended Range Large Lasers flashed past Fraser’s cockpit. The other three struck home on the right side of the Timber Wolf, vapourising almost two tons of armour in the process.

Fraser fought the controls and kept himself upright by some miracle. In the corner of his Heads Up Display, the ‘Mech Status Diagram underwent a rapid change. His right torso and leg armour went from orange to red, while the boxy Long Range Missile launcher perched on his ‘Mech’s right shoulder went black - not a great loss, since he’d expended all his ammunition, anyway.

Behind him lay the wrecks of his first two opponents - a medium-weight Viper and another Timber Wolf.

In long discussions with Natasha and Cyrilla, Fraser had learned that most candidates fighting in their initial Trial of Position tended to stake everything on earning that first kill, and thus, Warrior status. Accordingly, they would pour everything into their first opponent, willing to accept the possibility of crippling damage in return, and relying on out-massing that opponent to come out victorious.

Fraser had determined to do things differently. He would treat the Trial of Position as a breakthrough mission, with a notional objective located somewhere beyond his third opponent. This would change his mindset, and force him to fight smart to get past at least the first two opponents. It would also provide some familiarity, since he had taken part in several such missions with the Dragoons - though never on his own. Cyrilla’s considered opinion was that only a superlative performance in the Trial of Position would partially overcome the antipathy and hostility he would inevitably face as a freeborn Spheroid. Whether he could totally overcome it was an unknown.

In their simulator runs, Fraser had gradually refined his approach to the point that getting past his first opponent without taking a lot of damage was fairly certain. About half the time, he could also down his second opponent - usually another Timber Wolf,  but he’d only managed to down three opponents once - when he’d pulled off an inadvertent head-shot on an Executioner.

This run now looked like another two-and-done. He’d handily slagged the forty-ton Viper in two focused barrages, but the Timber Wolf had proven to be a stubborn opponent - Fraser suspected that Cyrilla Ward had been piloting it. Putting it down had cost him over half his armour protection, all his LRM ammo, a Medium pulse laser and some of his reactor shielding.

And now he was face-to-face with a fresh  Dire Wolf-prime.

By wrestling with his controls, he was able to present his (marginally) more intact left side to his opponent, while cutting to the assault ‘mech’s own left side. The Dire Wolf carried almost as much firepower in each arm as his previous Marauder had in total, so he was trying to get where only one of the massive weapons pods could bear on him.

Due to the heat load, he fired only one of his ER Large Lasers, striking his opponent in the left torso. Before he could do anything more, the autocannon in the Dire Wolf’s left arm barked, sending a shell unerringly through a gap in his torso armor and punching through what was left of his reactor shielding.

Fraser sucked in cool air as the simulator pod cracked open. He gave himself a moment to recover, slumped in his seat. He’d done four sessions pretty much back-to-back in the last couple of hours. Two practice runs for his Trial of Position, and two more serving as opposition for Natasha’s own practice runs. It felt like Hesperus all over again.

Finally, he slapped the quick-release for his harness and hauled himself out.

Natasha and Cyrilla were waiting for him.

“How are you feeling?” Natasha asked, tossing him a face towel.
“Honestly? I’m fried. That was four intense runs.” He sat himself down on the lip of the simulator hatch and gulped down a quarter of a bottle of electrolyte-infused liquid. It didn’t have as much flavour (not that there was any choice there) as the ones he was used to in the ‘Sphere, and it tasted… thinner, somehow, but it seemed to do the job just fine.

Right now he needed that boost. Fighting opponents of Natasha and Cyrilla’s calibre pushed him right to the limit. In the run prior to the just concluded one, he’d driven a Dire Wolf-B as Natasha’s third opponent. Somehow, one of his autocannon and PPC salvos had managed to flay all the armour from Natasha’s left torso and amputated the attached arm.

Natasha’s response was to go berserker on him. Despite her accumulated damage and his tonnage advantage, Dechan found himself on the defensive as Natasha made her Timber Wolf dance almost literal circles around him. Not even the tricks Tom West had taught him could save him that time and prevent Natasha claiming three kills in a row.

Cyrilla cupped her chin as she regarded him.

“There is little to be gained from another run. You both should get some rest so you are fresh for the physicals tomorrow.”

Dechan tossed Cyrilla a casual salute by way of acknowledgement.

“Well, I could eat,” allowed Natasha. “Wanna join us, Fraser?”

“Hell no,” snorted Fraser. “You two will just spend the entire meal reliving your sibko days. I’ve already heard about your midnight raid on the hated Red Claw -”

“Scarlet Claw,”

“-whatever-Claw sibko four times.” He hopped off the side of the simulator pod and picked up his jacket. “I will pick up something outside and then turn in.”

-------------------------

The Long Drink was a welcome sight to Fraser. He’d gone to the Merchant Quarter to get dinner from an open-air market. The Clan Snow Raven vendor had made a recommendation, and Fraser did not regret going with her suggestion. It was easily the best meal he’d had since leaving the Inner Sphere.

He covered a satisfied burp with the back of one hand as he opened the door to the Long Drink with the other. On his way to the bar, he spotted two bartenders working, neither of them Corinne. However, by the time he reached the bar, she’d popped out of a back room, making rapid annotations on a tablet.

She saw him out of the corner of her eye, and came straight over, stepping in front of the male bartender who was about to serve Fraser.

“So I didn’t manage to scare you off, Warrior,” she stated without preamble.
“Takes quite a bit to scare me off,” Fraser replied, softening the remark with a small smile.
“Where’s the Scientist?” Corinne asked next.
“Can’t tell you - apparently there’s been quite a few security leaks in the Warrior Caste and we’re cracking down.” It felt good to be trading banter with her.
“Pity - so I’ll have to resort to bribery and blackmail from now on. That will raise my outlays and cut my profits.”
“Well, if you give me my usual, I might be persuaded to let you in on that secret.”
Corinne nodded and called back over her shoulder “Kiro - one Amber Standard for the Warrior.”
“Aff,” acknowledged the male bartender.
Corinne turned back to Fraser to see that he had his Credcard out.
“What’s this?” she asked.
“I believe you called it ‘Correct Consumption Attribution’ last night.”
Corinne looked confused. With her over-sized eyes, it was quite an image. “You offered me information in payment.”
“What? No - that was a joke, Corinne. I’ll pay for the drink, as usual.”
“Oh.”
Kiro arrived at that moment with his glass, and Corinne fell silent as her staffer processed Fraser’s payment. When Kiro left, Corinne began again. “So you’re not going to tell me where the Scientist is?”
“Sure I will,” Fraser replied, sipping the ale. A light went off in his head. “Oh! You thought I was actually bargaining for information!”
“With the way you said that - of course I thought you were!”
“Okay….” Fraser chewed on that as he took another drink. “Look, Corinne, I will make one trade with you. I’m living in a very restrictive environment right now, and in a few days things are going to get really tense -”
“Because of your upcoming Trial of Position,” Corinne nodded. Fraser dragged his free hand down his face. “You weren’t kidding about the Warrior Caste being leaky,” he grumbled.
“No, I wasn’t. But you offered a trade” she prompted.
“Right - look, I’ll answer your questions about the Inner Sphere,” - Corinne’s eyes became even larger - “as long as I can have my drinks and not have to talk about anything military or Warrior related. Deal?”
“Bargained well, and done!” Corinne enthusiastically replied.

Fraser barely made it back to his quarters before curfew that night.

-------------------------
Fort Basil Radick
Cameron, Strana Mechty
July 26, 3039

“Pups! Today you face your Trial of Position. All your years of training and struggle have led to this moment! To be a Warrior is to live your life at war! In war, there is only victory or defeat! And so it is in your Trial of Position. You may fall to defeat by failing to achieve even one kill in this Trial. If that happens, your time in the Warrior Caste ends today.”

Galaxy Commander McKibben was hardly the best motivational speaker Fraser had ever listened to. He stood at attention before the thin-faced officer, anchoring the left side of the short line of four candidates who were facing the Trial today, dressed in a MechWarrior’s combat suit, neurohelmet tucked in the crook of his left arm.

To his immediate right was Cadet Hiriam, the other candidate in his bracket. Fraser’s first thought on seeing him was to mentally classify him as a kid. He looked no older than fifteen, and had terrible acne scars on his cheeks. Hiriam didn’t look happy at having Fraser in his bracket either.

Beside Cadet Hiriam stood Cadet Alana, Natasha’s bracket partner. The Star Colonel herself stood at the right of their formation.

“But!” McKibben continued, thrusting one fist high, “Defeat at least one of your opponents, and the Glory Road opens up to you! Even if you have to drag yourself from the battlefield on the stumps of your OmniMech’s limbs, you will be victorious as long as you are operational and your opponent is not! Defeat two of your opponents, and you will be not just a Warrior, but you will earn the rank of Star Commander!” And now he shrugged. “And if you somehow manage to defeat all three of your opponents, you will wear the twin stars of a Star Captain.” His smirk told Fraser just how likely McKibben considered the possibility of that occurrence.

“Candidates! To your OmniMechs! Skill and Honour!”

“Seyla!” barked Fraser in unison with his fellow Candidates.

McKibben spun on his heel and left the Mech Bay. Fraser broke ranks and found Natasha at his shoulder.

“Nervous?” she asked him with that twisted smile of hers.

“No more than before any battle where my life is on the line,” Fraser responded. Natasha nodded in understanding.

“Good,” Natasha jerked her head at him. “Stick to the plan - let’s show them that old age and treachery will beat youth and skill any day of the week.”

They grasped hands and parted, heading for their assigned ‘Mech Bays.

Fraser stopped before his assigned machine - a seventy-five tonne Timber Wolf Prime. With its back-canted legs and forward-thrusting barrel body, it reminded Fraser of a bird of prey.

Twin LRM-20 launchers sat over the shoulders. Both arms terminated in a pair of extended range lasers - a large model mounted over a medium one. Clustered around the torso were the secondary weapons - a medium class pulse laser and a pair of machine guns. It was a well balanced combat vehicle. The machine was painted tan overall, and adorned only with the Wolf Clan emblem on the side torsos, and then number “41” in white on the right arm and left leg.

He stepped onto the open-frame elevator built into the side of the ‘Mech Bay and twisted the control lever. The elevator carried him up ten meters to where a gangway butted up against the open cockpit canopy of the ‘Mech. Fraser crossed the gangway, handed his neurohelmet to the waiting Tech, and climbed aboard his ride.

It was only a few seconds work to strap himself in and connect his suit to the ‘Mech. The Tech handed back his helmet.

“Thanks,” he said.

“Skill and Honour, Dechan Wolf,” the Tech replied as she withdrew the gangway.

Fraser buckled on the helmet and looked out the canopy when he was done.

The bay opposite his contained Natasha’s ‘Mech. As a Bloodnamed Warrior, she was afforded certain privileges for this Trial that he was not. Her ‘Mech had been painted in her signature all-black colour scheme, with her personal black widow spider on a red circle emblem taking the place of the ‘Mech ID numbers.

Where Fraser had been given the Prime configuration of the Timber Wolf, Natasha had been allowed to customise her weapons load out. Fraser could see that she had dropped the LRMs from her ‘Mech, replacing them with a Large Pulse Laser on the right and twin SRM packs on the left. The arms of her Timber Wolf supported a PPC on the right and a gauss rifle on the left. An anti-missile system rounded out her loadout.

Fraser could see Natasha pulling on her own neurohelmet. As she finished, she too, looked up and their eyes met. Fraser held the look for a moment, then nodded once, getting the same in reply from Natasha.

Showtime.

Fraser reached out with his right hand, flipping open the guard that covered the Master Start switch and pressed it. There was a low whine and a thrummm as the OmniMech’s fusion reactor went active and began feeding power to all systems. The primary and secondary displays lit up in the cockpit. There was the familiar moment of vertigo as his neurohelmet synched with the OmniMech.

Fraser ran through the checklist from memory, gradually converting the Timber Wolf from inert machinery to a weapon of war. In less than a minute, he was done - except for one last step, which was not on the usual checklist.

Out of long combat experience, he first made sure all his weapons were safe, before picking a fluid stain on the floor of the bay and activating his targeting system to drop his crosshairs on it. Turning on active targeting inside your own ‘Mech Bay was generally considered bad etiquette, but Fraser preferred to double-check this vital system, and had worked out this fairly innocuous way to do it.

The gold holographic crosshairs dutifully appeared and he gently nudged his controls to frame the discoloured spot on the floor.

He held the crosshairs on the stain for a second, then pulsed the command for the Timber Wolf’s battle computer to supply target information. As expected, the battle computer was unable to give him a clear read on the spot, but the important thing to Fraser was watching it auto-cycle through its various modes.

That was when the crosshairs suddenly vanished in a burst of static, and the primary screen went blank.

Title: Re: A Reckoning
Post by: Sir Chaos on 08 December 2019, 18:51:44

 :o

Title: Re: A Reckoning
Post by: Daryk on 08 December 2019, 18:54:38

First, congrats on being accepted to the program!  :thumbsup:

Second, if he doesn't point out the problem RIGHT NOW, he's SO screwed...  :o

Title: Re: A Reckoning
Post by: qc mech3 on 08 December 2019, 19:19:16

Fun part is to see if someone try it on Natasha...  >:D xp

Title: Re: A Reckoning
Post by: Daryk on 08 December 2019, 19:22:03

Hopefully he'll at least tell Natasha... she'd definitely take it up to higher authority...

Title: Re: A Reckoning
Post by: EAGLE 7 on 08 December 2019, 20:37:45

Circle of equals ......
Or just an execution for lack of honor?

Title: Re: A Reckoning
Post by: croaker on 09 December 2019, 18:00:43

Of course, if he does say anything, McKibben will accuse him of cowardice.

Title: Re: A Reckoning
Post by: Daryk on 09 December 2019, 18:38:00

He should at least tell Natasha, so she can see if she's got the same problem.  Plus, it's not cowardice if you've been sabotaged...

Title: Re: A Reckoning
Post by: Terrace on 09 December 2019, 19:35:34

He's very lucky he checked this before he exited the hangar. There's plenty of MechTechs in close proximity to see what the problem is.

Title: Re: A Reckoning
Post by: alkemita on 09 December 2019, 20:14:03

Quote from: Daryk on 08 December 2019, 18:54:38

First, congrats on being accepted to the program!  :thumbsup:

Thank you - it's been amazing and terrifying in equal measure.

Quote

Second, if he doesn't point out the problem RIGHT NOW, he's SO screwed...  :o

Yes he is. The $64,000 question, remains - is anything else compromised?

Title: Re: A Reckoning
Post by: alkemita on 09 December 2019, 20:14:43

Quote from: qc mech3 on 08 December 2019, 19:19:16

Fun part is to see if someone try it on Natasha...  >:D xp

You have a very strange idea of fun  :))

Title: Re: A Reckoning
Post by: alkemita on 09 December 2019, 20:15:46

Quote from: Daryk on 08 December 2019, 19:22:03

Hopefully he'll at least tell Natasha... she'd definitely take it up to higher authority...

Oh, I think Dechan will tell more than just Natasha

Title: Re: A Reckoning
Post by: Daryk on 09 December 2019, 20:17:31

Now I'm really sitting on the edge of my seat waiting for the next post...  ^-^

Title: Re: A Reckoning
Post by: alkemita on 09 December 2019, 20:20:41

Quote from: EAGLE 7 on 08 December 2019, 20:37:45

Circle of equals ......
Or just an execution for lack of honor?

I'm actually still deciding how this goes down.

On the one hand, as a Bloodnamed Trueborn, McKibben's entitled to the Circle. On the other hand, this incident is tantamount to breaking a sacred trust...

On the third hand, for reasons that will become clear later, Ulric is keen for everything to be above-board. And there are other considerations also.

Title: Re: A Reckoning
Post by: alkemita on 09 December 2019, 20:22:16

Quote from: croaker on 09 December 2019, 18:00:43

Of course, if he does say anything, McKibben will accuse him of cowardice.

McKibben does have a history of getting his way under the cover of plausible deniability. Will have to see if that continues. It's a lot easier to slide under the radar when you don't have Khans glaring at you.

Title: Re: A Reckoning
Post by: alkemita on 09 December 2019, 20:26:09

Quote from: Terrace on 09 December 2019, 19:35:34

He's very lucky he checked this before he exited the hangar. There's plenty of MechTechs in close proximity to see what the problem is.

Yes - I wanted to show, again, that while the Clanners are treating Dechan as almost a juvenile, he is a seasoned combat veteran and command-experienced officer.

A noob sibkid would just follow the checklist as written. Fraser has been around the block enough times to know not just what to do, but when to do it, and why you do it at that time, in that way.

Title: Re: A Reckoning
Post by: DOC_Agren on 16 December 2019, 00:03:01

So someone just got the Blue Screen of Death  :thumbsup:

Title: Re: A Reckoning
Post by: alkemita on 16 December 2019, 20:51:54

Quote from: DOC_Agren on 16 December 2019, 00:03:01

So someone just got the Blue Screen of Death  :thumbsup:

Geez, mate - here I am, trying to buff my literary credentials, and you come along and cut things right down to size.  ;D

Yes, Fraser got the BSoD

Title: Re: A Reckoning
Post by: DOC_Agren on 22 December 2019, 05:01:24

still a good story

Title: Re: A Reckoning
Post by: alkemita on 15 March 2020, 21:57:32

Sorry, not an update - this time.

I just wanted to touch base with those of you who have loyally followed this story.

As some of you know, I was accepted into a writing program last year. The fruit of that is a one-act play that will be staged in mid-May (covid19 permitting). As you can imagine, all my creative juices had to go into that endeavour. It's been a wild and awesome ride, to say the least.

But we are nearing the end of the road. Rehearsals are underway, and all I have left are some minor re-writes. So my attention returns to "A Reckoning". To tide you over, I give you some snippets from my notes for Part III...

----------------

"You think this was bad? Gimme a break! You have no idea - no idea at all - how much worse it could have been if they'd managed to bring their full strength to bear."
- Saul Pearce, ex-Wolf's Dragoons, 3061 interview, The Reckoning Oral History Project

Of all the ComGuard units engaged in the first wave, by far the most successful was the 121st Division, led by Precentor Blessing Laurent. The aptly-named Effective Action Division took a horrendous toll on the Home Guard defenders it faced.
- Excerpt from Forging the Pack - The Untold Story of Wolf’s Dragoons in the Reckoning, By Drs H. R. Cowan & T. S. Choi, Pub. New Avalon Press, 3068

21:17:16 - FLASH Update. Kockengen reports raid in force. REDFORCE - unknown. STRENGTH - Estimated CoArms RGT. NOTES - REDFORCE in possession of advanced tech. Kockengen Miliz dispersing and requesting back up.

See you all soon...

Title: Re: A Reckoning
Post by: Daryk on 16 March 2020, 03:13:57

That's totally an update in my book!  Congratulations, and glad to know you'll be back at this eventually!  :thumbsup:

Title: Re: A Reckoning
Post by: ThePW on 16 March 2020, 10:38:22

can someone summarize the plot (up to this point) so when this continues, the popcorn will taste better? A lot of these stories make for great What-If short playing sessions...

TU BTW for the update, sir.

Title: Re: A Reckoning
Post by: alkemita on 23 March 2020, 21:22:23

Well, to no one's surprise, my play has been indefinitely postponed due to this global pandemic. In the meantime, I bring you the next part of A Reckoning

-------------------------
Fort Basil Radick
Cameron, Strana Mechty
July 26, 3039

   Fraser instantly recycled the targeting system. Nothing.

   Again.

   Nothing.

   Alright. He keyed his radio. “CONTROL, FOUR-ONE has a major system failure. Request change of vehicle.”

   Nothing. Fraser re-sent his message twice more for no reply.

   Crap.

   He was just about to call Natasha when his radio sprang to life.

   “FOUR-ONE and FOUR-TWO, squawk status and exit ‘Mech Bay.”

   So, the receiver was working, but not his transmitter.

   “FOUR-TWO is green, exiting ‘Mech Bay.”

   Fraser needed to do something right now. He looked out of his canopy at Natasha across the hanger. She was speaking rapidly into her radio while looking at him with concern.

   So, the receiver is only selectively working.

   Fraser tapped the side of his neurohelmet with one hand while giving Natasha the thumbs down sign with the other.

   “FOUR-ONE - squawk status and exit the ‘Mech Bay.”

   Fraser began to shut down his ‘Mech. Natasha started to make hand signals at him, but Cadet Hiriam’s Timber Wolf passed between them at that moment, and he couldn’t see her anymore.

   “FOUR-ONE, report your status immediately!”

   Fraser finished powering down and unstrapped himself from his command couch. He popped the hatch, and now he could hear Natasha screaming orders to the Techs.

   “Warrior,” called the Tech as she re-extended the gangway, gesturing for Fraser to exit his ‘Mech. He’d barely done so when the Tech dived into the cockpit.

   “What happened, Dechan?” yelled Natasha from the hangar floor. Fraser looked around to see an impressive collection of senior officers approaching. Fraser quickly crossed to the Bay elevator and rode it down. He’d barely reached ground level when the first of the senior officers reached him.

“What is the meaning of this, candidate?!” screamed Galaxy Commander McKibben, jabbing his finger into Fraser’s chest hard enough to rock him back on his heels.

“My ‘Mech’s targeting system is down. When I tried to call it in, I discovered the radio was also down. This ‘Mech is not combat ready,” Fraser reported, forcing himself to speak calmly and looking McKibben levelly in the eye.

McKibben snorted. “That is exactly the sort of excuse I would expect from a degenerate savashri Spheroid freebirth! You -”

“Galaxy Commander - stand down.” Ulric Kerensky was suddenly at McKibben’s shoulder.

“My Khan,” began McKibben, spinning around, but whatever he’d been about to say was cut off when he saw the expression on Khan Kerensky’s face. Fraser also had to resist the urge to take a step back, given the anger visible on the senior Khan’s face.

Ulric lifted his head and barked “Technician!”

The suddenly nervous Tech scrambled from the Timber Wolf’s cockpit and leaned over the railing.

“Aff, my Khan.”
“What is your evaluation of the problem?”
“My Khan, malicious code has been sliced into the battle computer. It reported the targeting system as ready during the start-up automated check and commanded the battle computer to shut down targeting the first time it was manually activated. There was also a command to disable the transmitters of both radios.”

“So when Fraser faces his first opponent, he loses his targeting and the ability to tell anyone about it,” interjected Natasha. Fraser could suddenly see the family resemblance between her and Ulric in the identical set of their faces.

“This is preposterous!” shouted McKibben.
“Is it?” barked Natasha.
“Technician - who prepared this ‘Mech for the Trial?”

The Tech looked down at her tablet. “Senior Technician Pollux.” She pointed at a man standing over McKibben’s shoulder, who promptly quailed as many pairs of eyes turned to him.

“I was acting on the Galaxy Commander’s orders!” he shrieked even as two Elementals belonging to Khan Kerensky’s escort closed in on him.
“Pollux, you coward!” snarled McKibben. He lunged for the Technician, but was restrained by one of the Elementals.

“You bastard,” hissed Fraser. “You think a Spheroid has no place amongst the warriors of Clan Wolf? Face me in combat, if you dare, Lionel McKibben. Right here, right now!”

“The challenge of an untested whelp is worthless, Candidate!” barked McKibben.
“He is right,” conceded saKhan Mehta, with some disgust. “Dechan Wolf - your heart is that of a warrior, but you need to prove it in the Trial. Once you have done so, I will gladly sanction your Trail of Grievance on my authority as saKhan of Clan Wolf.”

“Bargained well and done,” Fraser spat with a curt nod. Turning to McKibben, he said “I have fought and killed MechWarriors from the ‘degenerate Inner Sphere’ who had far more honour than you. You are not fit to polish their boots.”

Then, deliberately turning his back on the shouting Galaxy Commander who was being hauled away, he asked the assembled senior officers. “What now?”

“The trial must go ahead,” said Cyrilla Ward, whom Fraser hadn’t noticed until now. What went unspoken was the fact that they were on a deadline.
“They keep spare ‘Mechs on hand as contingency cover,” Natasha told him. She snapped her fingers at the Tech. “You! Take Candidate Dechan to the back-up ‘Mech.”

“Aff, Star Colonel, but…”
“But, what, Technician?” Natasha demanded.
“Galaxy Commander McKibben did not bother ordering us to prepare more ‘Mechs when you and Candidate Dechan were added to the Trial.”
“Are you saying that there are no other ‘Mechs available on this entire base? That is ridiculous!”
“Neg, Star Colonel. I mean to say that there are no more Timber Wolf-class OmniMechs readily available. We cannot swap like-for-like.”
“Then what the ****** is available?”

   Five minutes later....

   “******.” Fraser stared at the machine before him. Half a dozen Techs and AsTechs were scrambling all over it to prep it for him. As he watched, Long Range Missiles were being speed-loaded through a hatch at the rear of the left torso. An AsTech was closing up another loading port on the left arm where ten rounds of 105mm LB-X ammo had just been rammed home.

   Standing ten and a half meters tall, the Summoner was clearly designed for function over form. Five tonnes lighter than the Timber Wolf, it was more humanoid in form, though the cockpit was off-set to the right to accommodate a weapons pod mount on top of the torso.

   This particular ‘Mech had clearly seen better days. Armor patches were visible across the entire ‘Mech, there were old fluid stains running from various ports and the weapons pods were the only parts of the OmniMech that looked new and polished.

Most of the vehicle was painted only in a red-brown primer, but the legs were a faded emerald green. Fraser suspected that this machine had been captured from Clan Jade Falcon, a theory that was strengthened when he noticed a oblong patch of primer on the left shin of the ‘Mech, situated in the right place and of the right size to cover up a Clan Jade Falcon badge.

Fraser’s Tech - her name-tape proclaimed her to be “Yolanda” - hauled herself out of the cockpit, flashing a thumbs-up and a smile as she did so.

Fraser nodded back at her, and turned to the highly-ranked posse that had followed him.

“I guess this is second time lucky,” he proclaimed with a shrug, trying not to show the anger he was feeling at the situation. Natasha, he noticed, was making no attempt to hide hers. He was almost certain she was muttering oaths under her breath that had no place in polite society.

“Better get going Dechan Wolf,” saKhan Mehta told him.
“Aff, saKhan.” Fraser saluted and jogged into the Bay.

Once Dechan was strapped into his new ride, he found cause for optimism. The Summoner might have looked like a piece of crap from the outside, but it was well maintained, despite the obvious wear and tear he saw inside the cockpit.

Also, despite being five tonnes lighter than the Timber Wolf, the Summoner was equipped with jump jets, giving it a wider movement profile than Clan Wolf’s premier heavy-class OmniMech. In fact, in some ways, it was like the bigger brother of the classic Shadow Hawk medium-class ‘Mech in which he’d begun his Dragoons career.

I can work with this, Fraser thought as he finished his own careful, personal double-check of the comms and targeting system.
“FOUR-ONE is green, proceeding to exit.”

It was barely thirty seconds, during which he gave the Summoner’s actuators as much of a workout as he was able, before he was lined up beside Cadet Hiriam. The young cadet was glaring daggers at Dechan from inside his own cockpit, obviously upset at having his rite of passage delayed.

Save your anger for your actual opponents, Fraser thought as he took a final look around.

Ahead, the huge, reinforced doors to the Hangar had been opened, showing a wide expanse of ferrocrete apron. Directly opposite him was a large sign labelled “Trial Grounds” with a prominent arrow.

Parked on either side of the doors were a pair of ‘Mech Recovery low-loaders and their tractor units, a grim reminder that at least two ‘Mechs would not make it back under their own power.

“FOUR-ONE and -DEUCE, follow signs to Trial Grounds and hold at Start Line. Acknowledge.”

“CONTROL, FOUR-ONE acknowledges.”
“CONTROL, FOUR-TWO acknowledges.”

Fraser throttled up to a walk, pacing Hiriam’s Timber Wolf. As they followed the tarmac, Fraser rolled his shoulders and neck, working out some of the built up tension in his muscles.
Center - the focus word came unbidden to him from years of long practice. He could feel his focus narrow down to the essentials at the pair of OmniMechs reached a fork in the apron. An illuminated sign reading “41” told him which fork to take. A few seconds later, he reached the end of the tarmac. A signal light bar, flashing red, told him where to stop. Beyond the tarmac was the pitted and scarred grey-green landscape. Eight hundred meters to his left, Cadet Hiriam had halted at his own stop line.

A chirp from his Summoner’s battle computer announced the arrival of their opponents. Coloured in neutral yellow for now, he saw the sextet of contacts on his main display split into trios and position themselves opposite him and Hiriam.

“All participants are in position,” crackled Control. “Trial will commence in five… four… three… two… one…”

The light bar went green.

Fraser slammed his throttle to its stops, taking the Summoner up past eighty-five klicks per hour.

On his HUD, his first opponent went from neutral yellow to hostile red. Data flooded his displays.

Target: Ice Ferret-prime.

45 tonnes. ER-PPC in the left arm, backed up an ER Small Laser and Streak SRM-2 for close range work.

Also closing rapidly - as it would since it’s top speed was around 130 klicks per hour.

Fraser’s lips pulled back in a half-smile, half grimace. He’s only got one good option, he recognised. Get close and get behind me. Already he could see the medium-class ‘Mech extending it’s left arm toward him.

Fraser mirrored the action with his own right-arm mounted particle cannon. The crosshairs on his HUD slid over the profile of the onrushing Ice Ferret, glowing scarlet to indicate he was out of range. A counter projected over the top of his opponent rapidly scrolled down the range.

850m… 825m… 800m… 775m…

Outreach, Sarna March
Federated Commonwealth
January 03, 3033

   “Does the base LARP club know you’ve stolen their gear?” Fraser grumbled. There was no convenient mirror for him to examine Tom West’s handiwork, but he was sure that he looked pretty dumb.

   For his latest session in “optimisation training” (as West called it), Fraser had been summoned to the base’s smaller gym. Tom West greeted him with a small heap of wearable… things that he wasted no time in strapping to Fraser.

   On his head he wore a padded sparring helmet with some sort of rail attachment across the forehead. Mouthguard, elbow pads and knee pads were added. Then it got strange. An adapted infantry load bearing harness was cinched to his torso. Something that resembled a side-handle baton or tonfa was snapped into a clip atop his left shoulder, the longer arm projecting straight out in front of him. A second side-handle baton was placed alongside his right arm, with his hand gripping the short arm while a strap just under his right elbow secured the longer arm of the baton.

   “Very droll, Dechan,” smirked Tom West in reply as he checked the fit before stepping back and nodding in approval.
   “Okay, you’ve had your joke-”
   “Not a joke, Dechan.” West was all business now. “This is a training exercise developed by my former Clan -”
   “The Nova Cats.”
   “Yes - developed to help MechWarriors hone their connection to their machines. Notice anything about your rig?”

   Fraser shrugged, looking over his get-up. “Wait… this is like - you’ve turned me into my Shadow Hawk?” The stick perched on his shoulder was reminiscent of his ‘Mech’s 80mm autocannon, while the one strapped to his right arm approximated the position of the Martell Medium-class laser.
   “Exactly.” West stooped down and fished several small bean bags out of the sack at his feet. “And with the rest of this gear, I can produce a reasonable facsimile of most other ‘Mechs.”

Dechan nodded and raised his right arm “If you reversed this...stick, you could simulate the PPCs of, say, that new Warhammer you’re getting.”

“Hey, you’re a fast learner, who would’ve thought,” nodded West with a lopsided grin. Using his foot, he tapped a box with a diagonal hinge-line. “Add one of these to either shoulder, and you’ve got the Warhammer’s SRM and searchlight. Open them along the hinge-line strap ‘em to your front and you’ve got an Archer’s LRM racks.”

West turned and walked about ten metres away, then suddenly spun and flung one of the bean bags at Dechan.

   “Hey-!” Fraser tried to twist out of the way, and with his combat-honed reflexes, he almost made it. The bean bag glanced off his chest. Even that glancing blow was hard enough to let Fraser know that whatever those bean-bags were filled with, it was damned heavy and he probably didn’t want to get one of those full force in the head. Before he could say anything else, West had sidestepped and launched another bag at him. Fraser crouched and ducked under the incoming missile, almost overbalancing due to the stick projecting from his shoulder changing his centre of gravity. Then he had to leap sideways as a third bean bag smacked into the floor right where he’d been a millisecond earlier. Unfortunately, that put him right in line for the fourth bag, which slugged him hard in the right shoulder and spun him around enough that he had to throw out his right arm to steady himself.

   “Feel how hard you’re working to stay on your feet?” asked West as he picked up the scattered bags.

   “Yeah – but I already did PT this morning,” groused Fraser as he warily watched his friend.

   West stopped and faced Dechan. “Look, Dechan, do you know why this is called ‘Optimisation Training’?”
   “You needed a snappy name?”
   “It’s because we’re trying to give you every possible advantage we can when you go there,” West replied, jerking his head vaguely up and to the right. “You’re a damned good MechWarrior, Dechan, and you’ve got almost as much combat time as one of the Others your age would have. You don’t have as much dueling experience, but that’s Colonel Kerensky’s problem. My job is to take the good MechWarrior that you are, and give you the one-percent improvements in any area I can to help you take your game to the next level.”

   West sighed. “You know why I’m such a good shot?”
   “Your genes were selected for it, I suppose,” Fraser shrugged.
   “Partially. The other part is the one-percenters. I’m about one percent faster at identifying targets, one percent faster at reacting to them, one percent more precise in targeting, one percent steadier in aiming – it all adds up, Dechan.”

   Dechan nodded. “So, which one-percent are we working on here?”
   “Ah, that would be taking you one percent closer to your ‘Mechs manoeuvring limits,” grinned West as he hefted a bean bag. “Ready?”

Title: Re: A Reckoning
Post by: alkemita on 23 March 2020, 21:22:52

Fort Basil Radick
Cameron, Strana Mechty
July 26, 3039

   …730m …700m

   The Ice Ferret loosed it’s shot first, the moment Fraser was inside the maximum range for an ER PPC. Just as Fraser expected. And already, he’d fractionally pivoted the torso of the Summoner so that instead of a hit that would have stripped over half the protection from Fraser’s centerline, the Ice Ferret’s shot did no more than flash-boil some of the primer on his torso.

   In reply, Fraser’s own ER PPC crashed into the smaller ‘Mech’s left torso, punching right through the lighter armour there, but failed to hit anything vital.

   The other warrior reacted instantly, cutting right and pivoting their torso to shield the damaged side. This took the Ice Ferret’s big gun out of play momentarily, but they were closing so fast that the Streak Short Range Missile pack in the Ice Ferret’s right arm was now – just barely – in range.

   Fraser spared a moment of grudging admiration for his opponent managing a lock at the extreme edge of the envelope as two missiles sped his way. The Streak system was designed to conserve ammo by only firing when a hit was certain. Fraser ignited his jump-jets and used them to increase his rate of turn as he fought to bring his weapons to bear. One missile corkscrewed into his left thigh while the other scarred the armour just under his Long Range Missile launcher.

   As the Summoner reached the apex of its flight, Fraser got a lock for both his missiles and autocannon. Without hesitation, he pulled both triggers. A handful of missiles hit nothing but dirt. The rest pockmarked pristine armour all over the Ice Ferret. His autocannon shells fared better, with most of them hitting the compromised left torso. A sudden heat bloom on Fraser’s display indicated that at least one of the rounds had cracked his opponent’s reactor shielding. The overall damage also affected the Ice Ferret’s gyro enough that the MechWarrior had to fight to keep from tumbling over at over a hundred klicks per hour.

   That was enough respite for Fraser to land his Summoner, recover, and line up his now-recharged ER PPC for the death-blow – a shot through the breached left side the Ice Ferret that skewered the engine. Fraser saw his opponent rocket skyward on their ejector seat just before the reactor destroyed the ‘Mech.

   “Congratulations, Warrior Dechan,” crackled the radio.

   Any reply Dechan might have been considering died in his throat as his targeting system chirped in warning. The second of the yellow icons turned red and began advancing on him.

   Target: Timber Wolf-C

   75 tonnes. Twin rapid-fire 75mm autocannon in the right arm, twin ER Large Lasers in the left, two shoulder LRM-15s to Fraser’s one. The ER medium laser and anti-missile system were almost afterthoughts.

   Out-gunned, the shoe was now on the other foot. Fraser’s only advantage now lay in his better mobility – in other words, he had to do to the Timber Wolf what the Ice Ferret had tried to do to him.

   Pivoting on his right heel, Fraser gunned the Summoner’s engine as he set off at an angle to the Timber Wolf. The range counter scrolled down, but even when Fraser crossed into range of the Wolf’s large lasers, the other warrior held his fire, angling for a better firing solution.

   Fraser instantly recognised that this was a more experienced warrior he was facing. They weren’t going to waste time with low-percentage shots.

   Alright, time to force the initiative.

   Fraser planted his right foot and ignited the jump-jets. The Summoner flew left, across the Timber Wolf’s line of fire. Twin emerald beams flashed through the space where Fraser had just been. With just fractions of a second to do so, he sent a bolt from his PPC back toward the Timber Wolf, followed by a salvo from his LRM launcher.

   Predictably, the LRMs mostly went wild, with the remainder clawed from the sky by the Timber Wolf’s Anti-Missile System. The PPC struck the Timber Wolf’s right leg. Then Fraser had to re-orient so the Summoner would land on it’s feet instead of it’s left shoulder. As he was doing so, the missile alarm screamed, warning of thirty incoming LRMs. Caught trying to get his balance, there was little Fraser could do but absorb the damage. He shook in his five-point harness as over three-quarters of the salvo hammered the entire upper-half of the Summoner. Colored splotches appeared on his ‘Mech Status Diagram as his computer tallied the damage.

Fraser shook off the pummeling with a snarl, getting his ‘Mech moving again. Gotta get out of his line, he thought, but he’d barely started when a trio of 75mm shells slammed into his torso and left leg. The Timber Wolf’s pilot  was playing it smart – using the relatively cool-firing autocannons to keep up the pressure on Dechan while waiting for the excess heat generated by the other weapons to bleed off.

“You got lucky with that kill, freebirth, but your luck does not equal my skill,” taunted his opponent.

Fraser would later surmise that he must have been hanging around Natasha too long. Where he would once have simply ignored the jibe, he now shot back with “Maybe not, but my skill does!”

With that, he unleashed an alpha strike, taking full advantage of piloting a cooler-running ‘Mech.

The PPC went low again, smashing almost all the remaining armour from the Timber Wolf’s right leg. The AMS slapped down a trio of Fraser’s LRMs before running dry on ammo. The remaining dozen speared into armour all along the upper center torso, wreathing the war machine in fire and smoke. Fraser’s autocannon, held back a fraction of a second to allow him steady his aim (another of Tom West’s one-percenters) smashed destruction across his opponent’s rounded torso. A couple of shells went a little higher, scarring the reinforced ferro-glass canopy of the Timber Wolf.

The warrior flinched involuntarily, and one of her large lasers missed. The other removed over half the remaining armour from Fraser’s right torso. Another storm of LRMs erupted from the shoulder mounts, with just over half hitting. Alarms went off in Fraser’s cockpit – he’d lost a heat sink somewhere, but there was plenty of capacity to spare. The other alarm was more serious. Something was wrong with his left ankle joint. He staggered slightly as the foot pad on that leg seemed to be locked at an angle.

Still, the Timber Wolf was now forced to shield it’s right leg. Fraser dragged right, torso twisting left to keep the enemy ‘Mech under his guns, then risked his jumpjets to open the distance and move to the Timber Wolf’s right flank faster than it could turn. He saw a pair of autocannon shells miss him low, but two more hammered his left arm. Then he had to concentrate on the landing, which proved as problematic as he feared.

There was a screech of metal as the heel portion of his ‘Mech’s left foot sheared off on impact.

“Shit!” Fraser cursed as he fought the controls to stay upright, while crabbing the Summoner around in small hobbled steps to face the approaching Timber Wolf.
Breathe, he told himself. Don’t force it, now he was repeating one of Tom’s catch phrases. His left hand flicked the independent targeting switch, and he pulled the resulting trio of crosshairs over three different parts of the Timber Wolf’s damaged right leg, then almost caressed the triggers.

The PPC crossed with incoming large and medium laser fire. The PPC smashed the backward-canted knee joint of the Timber Wolf to junk, causing the ‘Mech to fall. As it fell, it threw out it’s right arm to break the fall. The barrels of the twin 75mm autocannon jammed into the ground, distorting them beyond functionality. Fraser’s LRMs and Autocannon shells, deprived of the leg as a target, vented their destructive potential on the arm instead, snapping both barrels clean off. The Timber Wolf completed it’s fall, the cockpit frame distorting as the 75-tonne ‘Mech came to a stop.

Fraser had no time to watch though. Both large lasers and the medium laser had hit him, crushing armour on his right arm, right torso and right leg. Unbalanced already, his gyro reached its limits, and the Summoner fell backwards.

Must’ve blacked out, was Fraser’s next thought. He didn’t remember the impact, but his back hurt, and his vision was slightly distorted. His Mech Status Display was mostly red, with icons warning of armour breaches on his rear centre and left torsos, another lost heat sink, and a destroyed jump-jet..

The view out of his canopy was pure grey sky. His HUD showed one more red icon – his final opponent, already moving in on him.

Target: Executioner-prime.

95 tonnes, but had the Myomer Accelerator Signal Circuitry system that allowed it to match his lighter Summoner’s movement profile in short bursts. Actually, the Executioner was now more mobile than Fraser, because of his damaged foot and lost jump-jet. Like the Timber Wolf, the Executioner carried a pair of ER Large Lasers, but matched that with a devastating gauss rifle. A pair of machine guns rounded out the armament, but they would be almost superfluous to this engagement.

Right now, a hit from any of the Executioner’s three big guns would spell destruction for whatever part of the Summoner they hit.

“FOUR-ONE, squawk your status,” Control was calling him.

Gotta get up… Fraser went through the recovery drill automatically, levering himself upright. It seemed to take forever. Breakthrough mission, he thought grimly. One more opponent guarding the objective. He activated his radio as he reached a crouching position.

“FOUR-ONE is active,” he got out. His tongue seemed to fill his entire mouth. He heaved the Summoner to standing position, rocking on his damaged foot. He was distantly aware of two large lasers barely missing him. Then there was an almighty crash as a gauss round smashed his LRM launcher literally to pieces. Fortunately for Fraser, the autoloader had only managed to load a couple of missiles before shutting down due to the fall. Still, shrapnel from the exploding warheads blew out one of his cockpit windows and fried his Heads up Display.

“Aff, Star Commander Dechan,” Control replied.

That’s the wrong rank… isn’t it? wondered Dechan as instinct and muscle memory led him to dump unused LRM ammo, bring up the emergency HUD on his neurohelmet, and get moving again.

The Executioner was strolling toward him – like a hunter coming to finish off his prey.

Breakthrough mission… gotta get through the last opponent…

Fraser staggered forward , thrust both arms at the Executioner and fired. The PPC landed dead centre, but the assault-class ‘Mech had enough armour to absorb another two hits like that. Something seemed to be wrong with his left arm actuators, as the autocannon sprayed half it’s shells wide of the target, and scattered the other half from shoulder to shin, doing no significant damage.

Gotta get through…

Fraser pushed his throttle to the stops, then cried out as bio-neural feedback flooded his brain with pain. The gyro was having trouble keeping the Summoner on course and was tapping his brain for help.

His drunken lurch paid off, though, as the gauss rifle missed long, as did one large laser. The second blew all the remaining armour from his right leg, nearly sending him spinning back to the ground. His right arm flew out to regain balance, taking his PPC off target. He triggered his autocannon only, abstractly admiring the neat diagonal line the shells made as they impacted from right hip to left shoulder – and a couple that passed over.

Objective is beyond last opponent…

The Executioner’s gauss rifle shifted fractionally and fired. The super-hard slug smashed right through Fraser’s right shin. The Summoner fell forward. Elite pilot that he was, Fraser got his arms out in front of him, and stopped the Summoner from doing a face-plant. The much-abused ‘Mech dug a massive divot in the grey-green dirt and shuddered to a stop on its knees less than a hundred and fifty metres from the Executioner.

Alarm – ammo feed to autocannon damaged. One round in chamber… weapon green. Dump A/C ammo. Alarm – PPC inoperative.

Fraser looked up at the approaching assault OmniMech. It paused a hundred metres away.

“Star Commander Dechan, I am Star Captain Tobias Radick, and I salute your skill and courage. But you are now overwhelmingly outmatched. Your ‘Mech is disabled and disarmed. There is no need to prolong this. Request hegira – the right to retreat from the battlefield with your honour intact. You have certainly earned it, and I will grant it.”

Retreat… But the objective is beyond the final ‘Mech.

“I haven’t reached the objective, Star Captain,” Fraser’s voice seemed very far away to him.

“But you have two kills…”

“One more ‘Mech before the objective…”

Fraser’s backup HUD clearly displayed the range to the Executioner – 97 metres. He stomped on the jump-jet pedals.

Like a springing cat, the Summoner heaved itself off the ground on three mostly-functional jump-jets, driving more-or-less straight for the Executioner.

Star Captain Radick was no slouch – he managed a shot from his large lasers in time to amputate the Summoner’s right arm. But even as the shattered limb pinwheeled away Fraser drove the Summoner’s remaining arm unerring toward Radick’s cockpit. The autocannon barked one last time, half a second before collision.

This close to its target, the shells from the autocannon did not scatter far. All ten submunitions impacted the head armour, stripping it of all protection and smashing the life support system. The autocannon itself followed behind, crushing the cockpit of the larger OmniMech. Radick was saved by his auto-eject system, which rocketed him clear even as the battered remains of Fraser’s Summoner body-checked the Executioner and toppled it.

---

“Make a hole!”

Cyrilla Ward didn’t know who barked the instruction, and she didn’t much care. But in response, the sea of Techicians and Medics in front of her parted, allowing her to get right up to the hover APC as it dropped its rear ramp. Two medics wheeled a gurney down the ramp, the one in front reporting to the attending doctor as he did moved.

“Grade two Concussion, hairline fracture of right scapula, multiple lacerations to upper torso.”

The Doctor went straight to work even as the Medics handled the less serious injuries.

“How is Star Captain Dechan, doctor?” demanded Ward.

Without stopping what he was doing, the doctor called over his shoulder “He will live.”

“Incoming!” called another anonymous voice. A second hover APC pulled up, and decanted Star Captain Tobias Radick, his left arm in a field sling and sporting a swollen-shut right eye. The Star Captain marched right over to Ward.

   “Who is this man, Galaxy Commander? He pilots his OmniMech like a Nova Cat…”

“I am not a Nova Cat,” Dechan answered from the gurney, swatting away the efforts of the medics to get him to lie back down. Swinging his legs down, he stood shakily, a shocking vision with ashen, sunken eyes, and blood soaked bandages.

“I am Star Captain Dechan, of Clan Wolf. And I am from the Inner Sphere. And you all need to understand – if you choose to make war on the Inner Sphere, they will fight at least as hard as I did out there – most likely, they will fight even harder than that in defence of their homes and families.”

Into the shocked silence, Ward stepped forward and eased Dechan back onto the gurney.

“You need to rest now, Star Captain – that’s an order!” she continued as he started to object. As Dechan slumped back onto the gurney, movement caught his eye. Turning his head, he saw two Timber Wolves heading out onto the range, one of them the all-black ride of Natasha Kerensky.

The Black Widow was about to take the field.

Title: Re: A Reckoning
Post by: Shadow_Wraith on 23 March 2020, 22:53:31

 :thumbsup:  Wow thats a nice update!!  Will you be writing about the Black Widow's trial too?

Title: Re: A Reckoning
Post by: Daryk on 24 March 2020, 03:42:44

Sorry to hear about your play, but SO glad you posted that update!  :thumbsup:

Title: Re: A Reckoning
Post by: alkemita on 24 March 2020, 08:22:16

Quote from: Shadow_Wraith on 23 March 2020, 22:53:31

:thumbsup:  Wow thats a nice update!!  Will you be writing about the Black Widow's trial too?

I believe that all BTech (fan)fiction writers are contractually obligated to show off Natasha Kerensky's awesomeness at every opportunity, so yes, her trial is in the next part.

Title: Re: A Reckoning
Post by: Sir Chaos on 24 March 2020, 08:33:32

Quote from: alkemita on 24 March 2020, 08:22:16

I believe that all BTech (fan)fiction writers are contractually obligated to show off Natasha Kerensky's awesomeness at every opportunity, so yes, her trial is in the next part.

She´s got her work cut out for her, to exceed that performance.

Title: Re: A Reckoning
Post by: Daryk on 24 March 2020, 16:59:33

Eh, I expect she'll just use (abuse) the Extreme Range Rules and take them all out without taking any damage...

Title: Re: A Reckoning
Post by: ThePW on 24 March 2020, 17:43:44

Sadly, it's taken the Zombie Apocalypses for an epic update... but ooooooh, so worth the wait.

Title: Re: A Reckoning
Post by: alkemita on 24 March 2020, 17:48:39

Quote from: Daryk on 24 March 2020, 16:59:33

Eh, I expect she'll just use (abuse) the Extreme Range Rules and take them all out without taking any damage...

I've heard it said that Natasha Kerensky is an abuse of the rules...  ;)

Title: Re: A Reckoning
Post by: alkemita on 24 March 2020, 17:49:48

Quote from: ThePW on 24 March 2020, 17:43:44

Sadly, it's taken the Zombie Apocalypses for an epic update... but ooooooh, so worth the wait.

Thank you - this was all sitting complete, in my head for months, but I had a play to write. Glad you liked it.

Title: Re: A Reckoning
Post by: Daryk on 24 March 2020, 18:16:25

Glad you wrote it!  :thumbsup:

Title: Re: A Reckoning
Post by: alkemita on 21 April 2020, 21:44:44

Once again, not an update, sorry.

Just to keep you in the loop, it turns out that my play is only "mostly dead". While it won't see the stage anytime in the near future, my director and cast have very kindly offered to do a virtual table read of the script. Hence, I am back polishing the script and prepping for a compressed rehearsal schedule. Trying to get this done in the next 2-3 weeks.

The next part of A Reckoning is about 2/3 done. I considered posting the first half, but it doesn't work without the second half, so I beg your indulgence. The scope of the story is about to get a lot larger...

Title: Re: A Reckoning
Post by: Daryk on 22 April 2020, 02:45:41

No worries!  Best of luck with the virtual table read!  :thumbsup:

Title: Re: A Reckoning
Post by: cklammer on 24 April 2020, 05:44:56

Best of Luck from me, too.

Anything that helps the performing arts keep alive during these trying times is more important than fan fiction, IMHO.

Title: Re: A Reckoning
Post by: alkemita on 20 June 2020, 15:55:35

No sooner was I done with the virtual table read when work decided to crazy. Who'd have thought that in the middle of a global pandemic, people would buy so much stuff??

Anyway, here's an update....

---

Fort Basil Radick
Cameron, Strana Mechty
July 26, 3039

Cyrilla Ward entered the observation lounge while Natasha and Cadet Alana were en route to their respective start lines. Although the room was designed to accommodate over fifty viewers for the massive holotank that dominated its centre, there were less than a fifth of that present. Partially that was because of the small number of Trial participants, and partially this was because those present were the Khans of Clan Wolf, together with a handful of their aides and security escorts.

Both Khans turned, and Ward stopped briefly to exchange salutes.

“How is Star Captain Dechan?” Ulric asked.

“Resting. The medics say he will be fit for light duty in about a day, and full duty a few days after that,” Ward reported. Ulric absorbed the news with a nod.

“And Warrior Hiriam?”

Ward shrugged. “That would be former Warrior Hiriam – his injuries are too severe for him to continue in active service. I perused his record – if he had not gained that first kill, I would be recommending the Scientist caste for his new assignment, but since he did, perhaps the Watch could use him.”

Ulric nodded. “Your discretion, Galaxy Commander. Speaking of which, any first impressions on your new command?”

Ward’s face tightened. “Well, I have only been Omicron Galaxy’s commander for the past twenty minutes, but it is already clear that Lionel McKibben was close to apathetic and viciously petty. Two warriors have already pre-emptively requested a transfer to a solahma unit.”

Ulric’s face similarly grew grim. “Well, unfortunately, that is not surprising given what we now know about the former Galaxy Commander.”

Laurel Mehta now joined in. “The checks of Star Colonel Kerensky’s ‘Mech turned up nothing untoward, quineg?”

“Neg, saKhan,” Ward shook her head. “And believe me, that Techs were most thorough. None of them wanted to share the former Master Tech’s fate.” Ward paused.

“Lionel McKibben’s enmity appears to have been directed solely at Star Captain Dechan.”

“Because of his Spheroid origins,” Ulric put in. “He said as much.”

“And there, once again, you see the size of the problem we face, ovKhan,” Mehta. “We have done too good of a job slandering the Inner Sphere.”

“The counter to bad propaganda is the facts,” Ulric responded. Mehta looked like she was going to argue, but changes in the holotank caught her attention.

 “They have reached the start line.”

The Holotank was split vertically to display Natasha and Alana’s Timber Wolves almost side by side, even thought they were eight hundred metres apart in reality. The ‘Mechs had been scaled to be about a metre and a half tall in the tank, with the observers’ point of view being behind and slightly above the candidates’ ‘Mechs. System status information was overlaid on both ‘Mechs, allowing Cyrilla and the others almost as much situational awareness as the MechWarriors piloting those machines.

As they watched, Natasha flexed her ‘Mech’s actuators one more time. Ward frowned as she watched – this wasn’t normal for –
“She is enraged,” remarked Ward.

“Which means what, Galaxy Commander?” demanded Mehta. But it was Ulric who replied.

“If the sibko tales I heard are to be believed, Laurel,” he pronounced, “we are either about to see something spectacular, or something terrible – or both.”

“All participants are in position,” reported Control as the holotank painted a trio of yellow squares in the distance beyond both candidates. “Trial will commence in five… four… three… two… one…”

Natasha’s black Timber Wolf leapt off the start line, driving straight for her first opponent, an Ice Ferret, though this was the B-configuration rather than the Prime one Fraser had faced. As they closed, Natasha spread the arms of her Timber Wolf, taking the PPC and Gauss Rifle they carried – her big guns – off target.

“What in the Great Father’s name is she doing?” demanded Mehta.

“She is daring her opponent to take the first shot,” Ward replied, just as the Ice Ferret obliged, stabbing out with its ER large laser – and missing. Somehow, Natasha had sidestepped her 75-tonne machine with exquisite timing and taken herself out of the line of fire.

Now Natasha wrenched her Timber Wolf’s arms back in line with her opponent and fired. Both shots caught the Ice Ferret dead-center. First the PPC, then the gauss slug. Diagnostic info tags around the ‘Mech changed faster than the eye could follow, but the outcome was clear. Gyro destroyed, the Ice Ferret lost its balance and fell, tumbling along the ground as it bled off momentum abruptly. One spiky-edged icon encircled a rapidly departing ejection seat, carrying MechWarrior Amelia to safety.

“Control confirms one kill, Star Colonel,” reported the dispassionate commentator. Ward clenched her jaw. The rules of a Trial of Position were different for previously qualified warriors. A single kill would be enough to keep Natasha in the Warrior Caste, but she would be demoted. She needed at least two kills to retain her rank. And right now she was running on emotion rather than thinking…

In the Holotank, Ward watched as Natasha jogged her Timber Wolf right, pulling her next opponent toward the centre of the trial area. Icons and tags showed the Timber Wolf Prime, piloted by Star Commander Hassan, closing steadily on Natasha’s own custom Timber Wolf. As in Dechan’s trial, the opposing warrior held their fire even though they had a range advantage over Natasha.

   The tension grew as the range wound down, but Natasha was still running toward the edge of the trial area. Ward spared a glance for the other half of the Holotank, where Cadet Alana had just gained warrior status by destroying the Viper she had been fighting – though not without cost, as it appeared she’d let the agile medium-class ‘Mech get into her rear arc at least once, judging by the breached rear torso armour and leaking heat sink Ward saw there.

   “Natasha is right on the boundary of her area,” commented Ulric, and Ward turned back to look. Sure enough, her Timber Wolf was just metres from a blue line superimposed on the display by the holotank.

   Star Commander Hassan chose this moment to open proceedings, launching a full salvo of LRMs at Natasha.

   Her reaction was to shoot back at Hassan with her gauss rifle… and fire her PPC at the other Timber Wolf – the one that was supposed to be Alana’s opponent.

   “Stravag!” swore Ward – and she wasn’t alone. By firing on two opponents at once, Natasha had changed the rules. All participants in this trial were now free to target her.

   It took a couple of seconds for the warriors on the field to react to Natasha’s actions. She took advantage of that, sprinting away from Hassan’s ‘Mech onto Alana’s half of the Trial area, randomly jinking her black Timber Wolf as she did so. She did enough to break one lock – a score of LRMs swept past her. Her Anti-Missile System opened up against the other score of LRMs, killing almost half of them. The remainder scattered their damage in penny packets – Ward doubted if Natasha even noticed them.

   A quartet of large lasers – a pair from each opposing Timber Wolf – flashed past Natasha. Three cleanly missed, the other burned off some black paint on Natasha’s left arm.

   Again Natasha side-stepped like she was piloting a light-class ‘Mech, and between that and her Anti-Missile System, the score of LRMs launched by the second Timber Wolf – piloted by Star Commander Eli Conners according to the info-tag – failed to make a dent on Natasha.

   Natasha fired her gauss rifle and large pulse laser into Conners’ ‘Mech, staggering it. While Conners fought for control, Alana launched an alpha strike at what should have been her second opponent. Two dozen LRMs hits and the impact of a large laser tipped the scales – literally. Conners lost his balance and fell. 

Still Natasha raced on, closing to within three hundred metres of where Conners was struggling to rise. She endured another LRM salvo from Hassan’s ‘Mech. More LRMs hit this time, courtesy of her AMS running out of ammo, but the accumulated damage was still too light to cause her concern.  Her large pulse laser spoke again, accompanied this time by an octet of Short Range Missiles. Without waiting to see the results, Natasha spun her ‘Mech to face her original opponent.

   Behind her, the SRM barrage found weak points in Conners’ armour, diving through breaches to wreck vital systems. Engine and gyro hits sealed his fate, and the auto-eject system blasted him clear. A second later, Alana’s LRM salvo arrived to rain further destruction on Conners’ Timber Wolf, but by then Control had already credited Natasha with the kill.

   Ward grabbed a control wand for the holotank and rapidly manipulated it. She dropped the view of now-Warrior Alana’s ‘Mech, allowing an expanded view of Natasha. She then pulled up an overhead display of the current situation in a new window and placed it to the side.

   On the display, the blue dot representing Natasha’s Timber Wolf was attracting a lot of attention. A trio of red dots – Star Commander Hassan’s Timber Wolf and two Dire Wolf-class OmniMechs, were closing on Natasha. A single yellow dot, standing for Warrior Alana’s own Timber Wolf, was also moving in Natasha’s direction, although this seemed to be mainly because that was where all the potential targets were.

   On the field, Natasha’s black ‘Mech emerged from around a hillock which absorbed most of an LRM barrage. Hassan nailed her torso with one of his large lasers though. In reply, Natasha’s PPC and large pulse laser shredded the remaining armour from Hassan’s centreline, allowing the gauss slug that arrived a fraction of a second later to completely gut the Timber Wolf.

   “Three kills, Star Colonel Kerensky,” reported Control, even as Natasha threw her ‘Mech sideways to avoid a quartet of large lasers fired by the nearer of the 100-tonne Dire Wolves that had now closed to firing range. She half succeeded – and the two lasers that did hit destroyed one of Natasha’s SRM packs.

   Ward brought up the warrior’s information for the Dire Wolf – Star Captain Glinda, of Beta Galaxy’s 341st Assault Cluster. With a start, Ward realised she knew this warrior. A member of House Ward, with a solid codex, but had never been able to get sponsored for a BloodName. She must have volunteered to face the legendary Black Widow in this trial to raise her standing.

   Natasha cut wide, stutter-stepping her Timber Wolf to make herself a harder target as she manoeuvred to make Star Captain Glinda’s Dire Wolf block line of sight for the second Dire Wolf. Autocannon shells flew past Natasha and pockmarked the soil just behind her as Glinda tried to keep up the pressure while bleeding off the excess heat – the Dire Wolf was not a cool running ‘Mech. A double-handful of LRMs sailed in, and Natasha raised her right arm just in time to take the blows there instead of on her already-breached right torso.

   “She’s not trying to shield the breach,” observed Ulric. Ward spared a glance for the senior Khan. His voice was calm as always, but she could see his stress in the way his right hand gripped his left behind his back. Mehta, as always, was more open about her emotional state. “No one has ever claimed four kills in a Trial of Position!” she exclaimed. “And yet she is trying!”

   “She is trying to make a point,” muttered Ward as she watched the holotank, where Natasha stopped circling and charged Glinda. The second Dire Wolf, a -B variant, managed to get a sight picture for it’s own PPCs and fired into Natasha’s left torso.

   Barely slowed by the hit, Natasha unleashed on Glinda’s ‘Mech. PPC, large pulse laser and gauss slug all hit dead center, chewing inexorably through hardened armour plate. But the Dire Wolf was one of the few ‘Mechs in existence that could take that much punishment to one location without a breach. Glinda stood her ground, fired three of her four large lasers, and threw in a pair of medium lasers, which were just inside their maximum range now.

   All the large lasers and one of the mediums hit Natasha, shattering armour over both hips and just below her cockpit. The medium laser struck the housing for Natasha’s large pulse laser but failed to penetrate.

   Natasha bored in close enough to carry out an alpha-strike. She got a lock at extreme range for her SRMs and loosed them as well. They were probably not necessary since the beam weapons and gauss slug comprehensively destroyed the Dire Wolf’s centre torso. Another ejection seat flew skyward, and Ward found herself wincing in sympathy for Star Captain Glinda, who was fast running out of chances to gain sponsorship for a BloodName.

   “Fo – Four kills, Star… er… Star Colonel Kerensky,” came the flustered voice of Control.

   Glinda’s collapsing Dire Wolf revealed the final Dire Wolf trading shots with a back-pedalling Warrior Alana, whose Timber Wolf had certainly seen better days. One missile pack was missing, as was the opposite arm.

   Natasha strode into this new fight, sending gauss slug and PPC downrange against the Dire Wolf-B. That ‘Mech shifted attention to what was clearly the more dangerous opponent and loosed it’s complete long range arsenal at Natasha – twin PPCs and quadruple rapid-firing 30mm autocannon. Natasha tried to dance her ‘Mech out of the way, but was only partially successful this time. One PPC found her remaining SRM launcher. The other shredded the armour over her left shin. Five out of eight 30mm shells also hit – most of them thundering into the left arm.

   “She is tiring!” saKhan Mehta observed.

   “Well, she cannot stop now,” observed Ward. “She initiated the melee.”

   In the tank, the icons told the tale – Natasha still had most of her firepower, but with her armour eroded, one good hit could put her down.
   The Black Widow shifted her angle of approach, weathering another peppering from the Dire Wolf’s 30mm autocannons. Her reply was a gauss slug to her opponent’s thick hide. Her PPC came up to add to the damage, but Alana chose that moment to re-enter the fight, launching her final LRM salvo and following up with her remaining large laser against the other side of the Dire Wolf. Natasha immediately turned her PPC on Alana, blasting her in the leg and knocking down the freshly-minted warrior. It was just as well she did so, because the Dire Wolf was just behind Natasha in retaliation, unleashing its own twin PPCs in Alana’s direction. Thanks to the fall, both beams sailed over the collapsing Timber Wolf.

   “That is extremely petty,” noted saKhan Mehta.

   “Petty or not, it fits with the point Natasha is trying to make,” riposted Ulric.

   Natasha’s large pulse laser sparked against the Dire Wolf’s right arm, but it didn’t stop the assault-class OmniMech from bringing the LB-10X autocannon (a twin to the one that had been mounted on Dechan’s Summoner) into line and firing. Unlike the autocannon Dechan had carried, this one was loaded with solid shot that hit Natasha’s center torso under the cockpit, removing over half the remaining protection she had there. All four of the smaller 30mm autocannon shells hit too, including one that cracked a cockpit window.

   Natasha seemed to find a fresh burst of energy – her Timber Wolf virtually skipped sideways as she angled for a better firing solution. Then, suddenly, she stopped dead, spoiling her opponent’s aim. Twin PPCs flashed right through where she would have been a split second later.

   In reply Natasha’s gauss rifle spat a slug that crushed the cockpit of the Dire Wolf – there would be no ejection this time.

   All was still for a long moment, then the radio crackled. “Five kills, Star Colonel Kerensky. This Trial –“

   A large laser flashed out from behind Natasha, carving through her right shoulder joint and amputating the arm.

   The holotank view spun to show Warrior Alana’s battered Timber Wolf charging Natasha.

   “Great Father, don’t do it…” breathed Ward.

   Natasha spun her Timber Wolf, shrugged off a medium laser hit to her left torso, and sent another gauss slug through Alana’s gyro.

   While yet another ejection seat blazed skyward, the radio came back to life, and Natasha Keresnsky spoke for the first time this Trial.

   “Well, Control, you are the scorekeeper. How many is that?”

   “Six, Star Colonel,” came back the awed voice of Control.

Fort Basil Radick
Cameron, Strana Mechty
July 28, 3039

Dechan put down the paint brush with a sigh. His back and shoulder were still sore, and he didn’t want to mess up what he was doing, so he forced himself to go slow and take frequent breaks.

At least his head was back to normal – the anti-concussion drug they’d given him kept him in bed for a day with repeated bouts of nausea, but by morning all was well. He’d reported for duty to find that he and Natasha were now temporarily assigned to Omicron Galaxy’s staff as aides to Galaxy Commander Cyrilla Ward. A permanent assignment would come later.

Temporary assignment or not, it felt good to have a defined place in Clan Wolf. The Trial of Position had defined him by Clan standards. There were still dirty looks and suspicious glances, especially from some of the Trueborns, but there was also awe and respect from everyone else, especially since word of his challenge to Lionel McKibben had gotten out. That particular trial would be conducted once both parties were fully fit again (the Elementals had not been particularly gentle when confining the former Galaxy Commander).

When Fraser was informed that as a Star Captain, he had some influence over his choice of ‘Mech, he’d requested, and received, the Summoner that he’d piloted in his Trial. Not everyone thought this was a good idea – Cyrilla reminded him that the Summoner was typically associated with Clan Jade Falcon, one of Clan Wolf’s biggest rivals – but he liked how the 70-tonne machine handled. He thought the weapons configuration he’d used during the Trial left something to be desired, but since the Summoner was an OmniMech, he could do something about it.

It took the Techs the best part of a day to put the battered machine back together, but now it was done. They’d also painted it black with red highlights, mimicking the colours he’d used in the Black Widow Battalion. The overall result was to make the ‘Mech look like it had just come off the assembly line.

There was one final detail needed, however, which was why he was up on the scaffolding in the Mech Bay with paint and brush.

“You up there, Dechan?”

He stuck his head over the edge of the scaffold. Natasha was looking up at him.  “Sure am,” her replied, preparing to clean up his supplies so he could go down and see what she wanted.

“Stay there – I’ll come up,” Natasha forestalled him. It didn’t take long for her to ride the cage frame elevator to him. 
 
   By way of greeting, Natasha handed over a can of beer, retaining a second one for herself.

   “Thanks,” Dechan said as he opened it. After a swallow, he indicated the three stars on Natasha’s collar. “So, I see they’re not bowing to the inevitable and making you a Khan,” he quipped.

   Natasha snorted, took a swig from her can. “Can’t win a Khanship in a Trial of Position. Not supposed to be able to make more than three kills anyway.” She shuffled around Dechan to see what he had been working on. Below the standard white text on the canopy rail that proclaimed this Summoner to be assigned to Star Captain Dechan, a stencil was taped in place, with another name that Dechan was slowly filling in with red paint – “Jenette III”, it proclaimed, in a flowing, cursive font face she didn’t recognise.  Natasha nodded in approval.

   “Jenette would have been very proud of you, Dechan,” Natasha said, in a sincere tone that few would have believed she could have managed.

   “I’d have settled for her not calling me ‘Foster’ anymore,” Dechan laughed, referencing Jenette’s nickname for him due to his origins outside the Dragoons. He set aside the beer can and retrieved the brush, getting to work on the first “t” in Jenette’s name. “So, what happened in your meeting with the Khans and Loremaster?”

   Natasha’s response was to check their surroundings carefully under the guise of taking another drink. Stepping closer as if to admire Dechan’s work, she told him “We have a permanent assignment. “

   Dechan half turned, with a raised eyebrow. Natasha grinned. “Meet your new Commanding Officer – same as the old one.”

   “Congratulations, Star Colonel – I presume they’re trying to keep all the troublemakers in one place?”

   “You guessed right, Star Captain. So, for your sins, you are now the commander of my Trinary Battle.”

   “I see – what unit?”

   “Thirteenth Wolf Guards.”

   Fraser frowned, his brush poised over the second “t”. “I don’t remember seeing a Thirteenth Wolf Guards on the roster.”

   “That’s because there wasn’t one until this morning.”

   “Someone’s really worried about cross-contamination, then.”

   “In a way.”

   “So that means you asked for the trouble-makers, the solahma, the young turks and the desperate to fill out your new command.”

   “You know me so well,” Natasha replied, crumpling her empty beer can. “We’ll beat them into shape and then show the Clans what real war is like.”

   Fraser put down his brush and stood slowly. “Now, why don’t you tell me what really happened in that meeting,” he said, quite gently.

   “Who says anything else happened?” Natasha shot back, not gently.

   “You just did,” Fraser said. Natasha’s eyes narrowed as she heard something in Fraser’s tone… disappointment? She felt her hackles rise. “I did no such –“

   “I have eyes, ears and a brain, Natasha,” Fraser interrupted. “I saw the BattleROM of your Trial. Now, Trueborn Warriors saw the legend of the Black Widow grow yet again – six kills, twice as many as the record –“

   “Don’t tell me you’re jealous I doubled your score,” scoffed Natasha.

   “Really? That’s what you think I’m like? Come on, Natasha. You never let me wallow in self pity when I needed to talk about Jenette.” Fraser paused, but Natasha didn’t jump in, so he continued. “Trueborn warriors may have wet themselves with excitement because they got to see a legend in action, but I know better. You were in a berserker rage, you were not in control – don’t roll your eyes, Natasha – I saw the BattleROM, remember? You were taunting your opponents, you were reckless about not shielding your breached torso. If one of my MechWarriors had done what you did, I’d have them up on charges!”

   “Are you finished?” Natasha growled.

   “No.” Fraser stepped in until he was almost toe-to-toe with the Star Colonel. “I’m concerned on two fronts here, Natasha. Your incredible skills are the only thing that got you out of that Trial alive, because your tactics were for shit. Starting a melee! You made things as hard as possible for yourself –“

   “I had to!” Natasha snarled.

   “No you didn’t!” Fraser shot back. “Come on, Natasha, look at the tactical situation. You have two groups of opponents. One is effectively pinned down by Cadet Alana and irrelevant to your situation. The way you shoot, you could have run through all three of your opponents before she had time to take down more than one of hers. After that, if you wanted to, you could have picked off her opponents once they’d weakened each other. Instead, you just had to sow chaos and showboat your way to your kills, didn’t you? And you knocked Alana down to deny her a second kill – “

   “She wouldn’t have made a second kill.”

   “Stop with the sidetracking, Natasha – what you did was petty and reckless in the extreme! You’ve done it before, back in the Sphere. I’ve seen that BattleROM too – on Crossing, where Jaime Wolf had to bail you out because you went berserker.” Kerensky shook her head and looked away, but Fraser stepped around to face her again. “Do you think that’s acceptable behaviour for a Cluster Commander?”

   “****** you,” hissed Natasha.

   “I bet Ulric and Laurel Mehta made that same point to you, didn’t they?”

   Natasha glared at him.

   “Clanners and Spheroids on the same page? That’s got to tell you something.” Fraser paused – this was going to hurt. “You need to get a handle on it, Natasha –“

   “Yeah, yeah, ‘because the stakes are so high and we can’t afford any slips’,” Kerensky interrupted.

   “Not just that,” Fraser said, making sure Natasha was paying attention before he sunk the dagger. “I’m not sure I would have full confidence in any CO of mine that was prone to such… lapses.”

   Natasha went very still. Fraser had to fight the urge to look around and make sure he wasn’t too close to the edge of the gantry.

   A second passed, then two. Fraser was trying to think of something to say, when Natasha did – “Fine.” She shoved past him, headed for the elevator.

   “This is about Joshua isn’t it?” he called after her.

   She spun on her heel and was on him in a flash, grabbing the front of his jacket.

   “HOW DARE YOU?!” she shrieked.

   With some difficulty, Fraser broke her grip, but was then forced to fend off a flurry of blows. She’s not thinking again he realised, using that knowledge to slip her attacks and take her legs out from under her.

Kerensky bounced off the Summoner on her way down, her flailing arm sweeping Fraser’s paint pot and beer can off the gantry. In the sudden silence, the sound of the pot and can hitting the hanger floor ten meters below was shockingly loud.

   “******!” cursed Natasha as she dragged herself to a sitting position.

   “******!” echoed Fraser as he supported his already wounded right arm with his left.

   “Hegira?” asked Natasha.

   “Hell, yes,” snarled Fraser, collapsing onto a convenient tool chest. “I didn’t understand before, you know. But you’ve had plenty of practise covering up.”

   “What the hell are you talking about, Fraser?” Natasha asked, examining the red paint stain on her sleeve.

   “I was a mess when I first transferred into the Widows,” Fraser explained, flexing the fingers of his right hand to check for additional damage. “You remember – most of my company died in the Fourth War, I missed almost all of the damned thing because of Misery, and by the time I wake up, the woman I loved is on a deep-cover mission, so I never got to say goodbye to her. Then her ashes come back in a box…” Fraser paused. “So I just kept moving, putting one foot in front of another –“

   “And no one really noticed because all of us were in the same boat,” Natasha nodded.

   “- because if I stopped moving, I’d… stop… moving…” Fraser trailed off, with a hard look at Natasha, who merely nodded after a second. Taking a deep breath, Fraser continued, “But you noticed, and you offered me a venue to talk about it, and I figured you understood, because of Joshua –“ Fraser braced himself, but Natasha didn’t even react to the name this time. “And you know what? It helped. I got better. Life had meaning again.  And then General Wolf and yourself offered me the chance to do something challenging and worthwhile, and here I am.” Fraser paused to carefully test his right arm – it seemed about the same as before. “I had to ask myself if I was taking a suicide mission, Natasha. And you know what? I realised that even though there’s a damned good chance I’ll die, this isn’t a suicide mission, not to me. The stakes are too high, and I’m going to fight with everything I have to stay alive and see it through. That’s how I knew I’d moved on after Jenette died.”

Fraser shifted, leaning forward. “But you, Natasha – I don’t think you’ve ever moved on from Joshua.” He saw Natasha start to flush, and jumped in. “Don’t tell me I’m wrong. Don’t. I lied to myself for a long time about this, Natasha. I was dead – I just didn’t admit it. Well, Star Colonel – it’s time to live again. The dead can’t execute this plan. Only the living can. Choose life. Please.”

For a long moment, Fraser thought his gambit had failed. Natasha’s stone faced façade held strong. He was trying to think of some other way to reach her when the Black Widow’s iron grip on her emotions came apart in an instant.  A choked sob erupted from her chest despite her best efforts to hold it back, then another, and another, then she keeled over, but Fraser was there to catch her, enfolding her in his arms as Natasha Kerensky finally allowed herself to mourn.

Title: Re: A Reckoning
Post by: alkemita on 20 June 2020, 15:57:52

41°03’61”S 112°49’49”E, [UNKNOWN WORLD]
Markesan Operational Area, Crucis March, Federated Commonwealth
December 04, 3041

   “All callsigns, move now, now now!”

   Sergeant Morgan braced himself against the lip of the overhead hatch as Decatur floored the accelerator. The APC bounced out from behind the giant buttress root, closely followed by three more. Morgan turned his head to the rear to do a count, and then wished he hadn’t.

   Coming out from between the gigantic not-trees were four… no, five – shit, six of those unknown ‘Mechs.

   One, clearly a light-class design, sped ahead, using jump jets to vault the huge buttress roots they’d had to drive around.

   “Incoming jumper, six-o’clock!” Morgan called into his headset even as he levelled his rifle at the ‘Mech, somewhat uselessly.

   It reappeared too soon, rising over the root they’d just cleared on jets of super-heated plasma, bringing arm-mounted lasers and missile tubes into line with the little convoy.

   Morgan braced for it, but then a silver streak slammed into the ‘Mech’s left torso, gutting it and sending it out of control.

   “Good shooting, Ferres!” Captain Salazar’s voice was tight. Morgan ducked back into the APC as the enemy ‘Mech slammed back into the ground and exploded. Morgan heard pieces of armour plating pinging against the APC’s hull.

   “Thanks, skipper,” Corporal Ferres called back cheerfully, but his next phrase was grim “Gauss ammo status red,” he reported, which meant that the Demon tank’s main gun was down to twenty-five percent of its ammo load – four shots left.

   “Almost there, hang on people,” Salazar replied. Morgan looked around the compartment to see that his people were okay. They were, and Durham was monitoring their two stretcher cases.

   Morgan popped his head back up out of the hatch in time to hear a new voice cut in on the radio.

   “Silver Wolf, Silver Wolf, Scavenger inbound, ETA two mikes. Squawk status, over!”

   Craning his head almost vertical, Morgan spotted the drive flare of the DropShip – as well as those of at least three AeroSpace fighters darting in for attack runs on their rescuers.

   “Scavenger, Silver Wolf-Actual – we have the package! Four Papa-Charlies, one Charlie-Victor! REDFORCE inbound, estimate six Bravo-Mikes! And it looks like you have some company too.”

   “You should’ve seen the ones who fell for our decoy, Silver Wolf. Hang tight, we’re coming to get you.”

   “Here they come!” called someone in one of the other APCs. Two more ‘Mechs, probably Medium-class broke cover, one running around the buttress roots, the other jumping over them.

   Decatur yanked their APC hard left, causing Morgan to fall back into the APC, but not before he saw a PPC flash uncomfortably close.

   A booming sound told him that at least one of the ‘Mechs was firing an autocannon – it had to be, their convoy didn’t have any.

   In reply, Salazar was firing the heavy machine gun back at their pursuers.

   “…got him!” he heard over his headset.

   “Not enough!”

   There was a hollow explosion outside.

   “Archie’s gone,” came the flat report. The Demon, their only true combat vehicle, was destroyed.

   The APC was weaving like crazy now that it had broken out onto the clear plains they’d picked as the emergency extraction point.

   With some effort, Morgan heaved himself up and out of the hatch again. If he was going to die, he’d do it facing the enemy, dumb as that sounded to him.   As though they could read his mind, Hallister, Park and Vukovic popped their own overhead hatches and levelled their puny rifles at the on-rushing white-and-black ‘Mechs.

   Overhead, Scavenger was now a distinct sphere shape, coming in hot. Only one fighter was still attacking, and a diving smoke trail marked where at least one of the others had gone. Fountains of dirt appeared left and right of the APC as Decatur swerved. All five remaining ‘Mechs were now out in the open.

   Suddenly, the APC right behind Morgan flipped into the air, disintegrating as it did so.

   “Silver Wolf, Scavenger – one mike out – confirm you have three Papa-Charlie,”

   “Scavenger, Silver Wolf-Actual. Confirmed! I am turning command over to Three-Four!”

   Morgan’s head snapped around. “Three-Four” was his callsign.

   He dropped down to see Salazar coming out of the front compartment.

   “Captain!” He called.

   “Lead them, Sergeant Morgan – get our people onto that ship,” Salazar cut him off as he strapped on a jump-pack and grabbed their last two satchel charges.

   Morgan looked the 7th Kommando officer in the eye, then braced as best he could in the bucking compartment and saluted.

   “Aye, Captain! Good luck!”

   Salazar nodded and moved to the hatch Morgan had vacated. Morgan lurched to the front and buckled himself into the vehicle commander’s seat. Punching up the radio, he said “All callsigns, this is Three-Four. I have command.”

   “All Silver Wolf callsigns – initiate, now, now, now!” Captain Salazar called. Morgan used the optics of the APC’s remote weapon station to watch as Captain Salazar and his three remaining troopers rocketed away from the APCs toward the onrushing enemy ‘Mechs.

   “Three-Four, Scavenger. Be advised we have incoming REDAIR – one squadron. Also, you have additional REDFORCE inbound, estimate two mikes, company strength.”

   “Get down here right now, Scavenger!” Morgan couldn’t help but shout.

   Behind the three surviving APCs, Silver Wolf jetted toward the enemy, alternating with zig-zag running between jumps. Weapons fire chased them, but most of the firepower was still being thrown at the APCs.

   One of the Kommandos jumped for the damaged ‘Mech that had killed Archie Ferres and his crew, but misjudged his approach and was crushed by the ‘Mech’s oncoming knee.

   Now Scavenger was close enough to throw PPCs and missile fire at the enemy. One of the ‘Mechs shied away from the fire, allowing Salazar to jump onboard. It wasn’t perfect – all he had were grip-gloves rather than the purpose-built grapple that was preferred for this sort of thing, but beggars couldn’t be choosers, and the gloves enhanced his strength enough to get the job done.

   An autocannon discharged just over his head, deafening him, the back-pressure wave knocking the wind out of him, but he managed to hang on, and drag himself around to the back of the ‘Mech.

   There – ammo dump port, Salazar recognised the design. He grabbed one of his satchel charges, oriented it so the flat side stencilled with “THIS SIDE TOWARD TARGET” was indeed facing the ‘Mech, and slapped it over the port, where magnetic clamps on the corners of the charge held it fast. Salazar then twisted open the safety cover on one corner of the charge and pulled the lanyard to arm the thing while activating his jump pack to get clear.

   The fuse burned short – he was barely outside the danger zone when the charge went off – followed milliseconds later by half a ton of autocannon ammunition. The last thing Salazar saw, off in the distance, was Scavenger grounding, her guns providing covering fire to three tiny APCs racing for her lowering ramp.

Title: Re: A Reckoning
Post by: Shadow_Wraith on 20 June 2020, 17:49:23

That was a very nice story update!  I'm looking forward to the next one!

Title: Re: A Reckoning
Post by: Daryk on 20 June 2020, 20:02:49

Indeed, glad to see you back!  :thumbsup:

Title: Re: A Reckoning
Post by: ThePW on 20 June 2020, 22:19:27

*claps* 6? Six..... what is going on in the Markesan Operational Area? in 3041?

Title: Re: A Reckoning
Post by: Daryk on 21 June 2020, 03:15:49

Looks to me like some early anti-ComStar (eventually to be WoB) action...  ^-^

Title: Re: A Reckoning
Post by: alkemita on 21 June 2020, 09:32:27

Quote from: Shadow_Wraith on 20 June 2020, 17:49:23

That was a very nice story update!  I'm looking forward to the next one!

Quote from: Daryk on 20 June 2020, 20:02:49

Indeed, glad to see you back!  :thumbsup:

Thank you both - thought I'd written myself into a corner with Dechan's Trial - spent a lot of time thinking "how the hell is the Black Widow going to top that - realistically??"

Quote from: ThePW on 20 June 2020, 22:19:27

*claps* 6? Six..... what is going on in the Markesan Operational Area? in 3041?

Quote from: Daryk on 21 June 2020, 03:15:49

Looks to me like some early anti-ComStar (eventually to be WoB) action...  ^-^

It's the end-game of the mission Jaime Wolf gave Cranston & Rhonda Snord back in Act I of this story. Flip back a few updates and you'll see that they stumbled on a ComStar Hidden World...

Title: Re: A Reckoning
Post by: misterpants on 21 June 2020, 10:28:00

So Natasha's loadout is...ER PPC, Gauss Rifle, Large Pulse Laser, AMS, 2x SRM-4?

Title: Re: A Reckoning
Post by: Daryk on 21 June 2020, 10:41:55

I thought they were 6 racks...

Title: Re: A Reckoning
Post by: alkemita on 21 June 2020, 11:50:45

Quote from: misterpants on 21 June 2020, 10:28:00

So Natasha's loadout is...ER PPC, Gauss Rifle, Large Pulse Laser, AMS, 2x SRM-4?

2x Streak SRM4 actually. Otherwise, correct.

Title: Re: A Reckoning
Post by: Daryk on 21 June 2020, 11:55:10

I stand corrected... thanks!  :thumbsup:

Title: Re: A Reckoning
Post by: Artifex on 21 June 2020, 13:56:01

Hoo boy,

now that was intense, on both accounts. Great story up to now and I really like the interaction between Dechan and Natasha at the end of the latest update. Also great work on the hidden C* world there, guess the data will be a proverbial bomb on the whole IS.

Title: Re: A Reckoning
Post by: alkemita on 21 June 2020, 18:39:13

Quote from: Artifex on 21 June 2020, 13:56:01

Hoo boy,

now that was intense, on both accounts. Great story up to now and I really like the interaction between Dechan and Natasha at the end of the latest update.

Thank you - I agonised over that conversation, because it's always been clear to me that Natasha's carrying around some serious issues with regards to Joshua. I always wondered why nobody ever called her on it, because she was always likely to get a lot of people killed the way she was written.

Quote

Also great work on the hidden C* world there, guess the data will be a proverbial bomb on the whole IS.

Assuming they can actually get it out...

Title: Re: A Reckoning
Post by: Daryk on 21 June 2020, 19:15:34

My money's on 7th Kommando…  ^-^

Title: Re: A Reckoning
Post by: alkemita on 21 June 2020, 20:49:03

Quote from: Daryk on 21 June 2020, 19:15:34

My money's on 7th Kommando…  ^-^

Except that Silver Wolf traded their lives to get the expedition remnants back to the DropShip....

Title: Re: A Reckoning
Post by: alkemita on 29 June 2020, 21:15:32

AN: Here's a quick update. Just came to me a few days ago and wouldn't leave me alone.

---

“Selling Security” – Feature Article, Die Market, Vol. XCIV, No. 11. May 3043
By Kristoffer Gerlach (Tharkad) with additional reporting by JoAnne de Ferrol (New Avalon)

| English Version | Deutsche Version | Tionndadh Gàidhlig | Versione Italiana | Version Française |

   

[COVER PIC: Map of the Federated Commonwealth, with two gauntlets superimposed, one in Steiner Blue, the other in Davion Green, holding bags marked with Kroner signs]

   
   “Strong Defences. Strong Economy. Strong Future.”

   Phrases you are probably heartily sick of seeing and hearing by now.

   “But, that’s not the way I heard it,” you might be saying. And you might be right. Perhaps you heard it like this:

   “Strong Economy. Strong Defences. Strong Future.”

   Or, maybe you remember it as:

   “Strong Future – from Strong Defences and a Strong Economy.”

   Or, even this way:

   “Strong Future – built by a Strong Economy and Strong Defences.”

   Whatever version of the slogan you remember, you were witness to (and the target audience for) the largest advertising campaign in the Federated Commonwealth’s short history, one that is estimated to have cost about five billion Kroner.  Now, for the first time, Die Market can take you behind the scenes to examine the origins of this enormous effort.

   A true bi-national undertaking, the “Strong Future” campaign was the brainchild of an unprecedented joint-venture between the Ministry of Ways and Means in the Federated Suns and the famous Donegal-based ad agency BeckerRomano & Associates.

   

[PIC: Three-quarter profile shot of Priscilla Romano in her office. CAPTION: “Senior Partner Priscilla K. Romano”]

   “We were originally approached by a representative of the FedCom government in the middle of 3040,” says agency partner Priscilla Romano. “They mentioned that we had caught their attention because of our long experience in adapting ad campaigns for regional markets – but we’d never done anything on this scale.”

   That experience would be sorely needed, and tested, in the coming months. Given a brief to reach every world in the Federated Commonwealth – almost one thousand separate markets in all – you would have expected BeckerRomano to have mobilised every asset at their disposal.

   “Actually, that was not the case,” Romano clarifies. “For two reasons. Firstly, we had existing campaigns we were already working on, and we could not simply pull people from those. Secondly, and most importantly, we believe in quality over quantity. It is far better to have fewer people, but the right ones, on a job, rather than putting in lots of people who may or may not be the right fit. Also, the larger the team gets, the harder it becomes to manage. A smaller team is more flexible too, and we needed that flexibility.”

   In the end, the Strong Future campaign was created, managed and executed by a team of less than one hundred people at its largest – and was often smaller than that. That number included the contribution of the other party in this relationship – a ten-specialist-strong group from an obscure part of the Federated Suns’ Ministry of Ways and Means.

   

[PIC: Cooper Tikolo perched on the edge of his desk. CAPTION: “Deputy Director Cooper Tikolo”]

   “I think our greatest challenge was convincing the BeckerRomano fellows that we weren’t AdSer!” laughs now-Deputy Director Cooper Tikolo as we talk in his New Avalon office. He understood why there would be some apprehension on the part of the Lyran agency. After all, the Federated Suns’ Ministry of Administrative Services is notorious Sphere-wide for its inefficiencies and borderline incompetence, and often the only thing ousiders now about FedSuns bureacracy. Ways and Means, on the other hand, is universally considered to be the best-run ministry in the FedSuns by some margin.

   The new Deputy Director of the Ways and Means Research Bureau was a section leader within the bureau when he got the call to take his team across the Human Sphere to work on the “Strong Future” campaign. It might seem surprising that a ministry primarily concerned with hard numbers in the form of trade, taxes and fiscal policy would maintain a bureau that tries to measure public feeling and opinions, but Tikolo doesn’t see it like that.

   “If you think about it, getting the public onside is critical to the successful implementation of any policy in general,” he says, jabbing a finger into his desk for emphasis. “We’ve all been on the receiving end of seemingly arbitrary decisions by the local council or county – let’s say, by suddenly doubling the pet licence fee with no explanation – that one happened to me last year. So now the bureaucracy is wasting time fielding complaints from the public, wasting money chasing down people who refuse to pay. On and on it goes. All because they failed to get the public onboard with them. If you scale that up to an interstellar level, the losses and wastage become truly incredible. So it behooves us to head off as many problems as possible.”

   I suggest that sounds a lot like the advertising business. “Oh yes, Frau Romano saw the parallels straight away,” he acknowledges.

   So what did Tikolo’s team bring to the table, given that BeckerRomano were no slouches themselves in the public opinion game?

   “Oh, they’re damned good at PubOp research,” Tikolo says “but my team’s area of expertise is in secondary and tertiary effect analysis. Things like what the consumer is likely to do if they liked your message, how that’s different if they didn’t like the message, how much of their circle can they influence, that kind of thing.”

   Romano is similarly complimentary about Tikolo’s team. It was a good thing the teams meshed so well, given the scope of the project.

   Their task was to build public support for possibly the largest military project since the creation of the Star League Defence Force, the wholesale upgrade of the Armed Forces of the Federated Commonwealth.

   A little background is necessary at this point. Thanks to the recovery of the Helm Memory Core by the Gray Death Legion, and painstaking work by institutions such as the New Avalon Institute of Science, the Federated Commonwealth found itself in a position to bring LosTech back. Some data from the core, chiefly medical in nature, was released as soon as the core could be decoded, but most of the effort was focussed on retrieving military systems knowledge. It was government policy to prioritise the recovery of military data above all else.

   By 3040, the FedCom had recovered enough data to make the restoration of dozens of military production lines feasible. Everything from jump packs to JumpShips was in line for upgrades, and the military grapevine was alive with rumours of super-powered weapons and vehicles coming “any day now.”

   The critical resource, as always, was money. There were rumours that the cost of upgrading every factory and production facility to LosTech standards would bankrupt even the FedCom. Although that is most likely an exaggeration, it was manifestly clear that whatever they decided to do, it would not be cheap. Also, like any nation state, there were multiple calls on all available funds at any one time, forcing the government to make hard choices.

   Enter the joint BeckerRomano-Research Bureau team.

   “It’s far too easy to make the mistake of over-simplifying matters,” Romano asserts. “Our initial research brought out two themes that resonated with the population of both states. One was security, and the other was economic benefit. Now, while security had a higher emphasis in the FedSuns and economy polled stronger in the LyrCom, once we dug a little deeper, we found a lot of regional variances.”

   One of those variances was that planets in border regions were far more likely to favour the security message, regardless of state, and likewise, planets in the interior were more stimulated by the idea of economic development. In that respect, for example, the Tamar worlds had more in common with those of the Draconis March in the FedSuns than they did with say, Donegal ones.

   Given the number of planets involved and looming deadlines, it seemed slicing down to provincial level was the best that the campaign could hope for in crafting their message. But here the Research Bureau team proved their worth.

   [PIC: People standing in a holotank looking at a map of Skye Province, with data windows attached to some worlds. CAPTION: “BeckerRomano and Research Bureau team members at work”]

   “What we did, essentially, was run our usual analyses and processes backwards,” Tikolo explains. “Instead of putting a proposition forward for testing, and then reading the factors to determine what the changes were likely to be, we went straight to the data maintained by both states, extracted the factors on a planetary level, and used that to determine what the population thought, right now.”

   Exactly what those “factors” are remain classified, but Tikolo, speaking in generalities, says they include such items as demographic profiles, self-sufficiency indices, consumer purchasing behaviour and sometimes even the fortunes of sports teams; all of this being run through algorithms to compensate for certain differences between worlds.

   “Frankly, it was astonishing what they were able to get for us,” Romano says.  “I mean, they were able to give us reads on Periphery-border planets where no one had ever done a poll since the days of the Star League!”

   But how accurate were they?

   “Of course there was some degree of skepticism,” acknowledges Romano, “and given the importance of this contract, we felt we had to find a way to confirm their analysis.”

   Given the limited time, the team picked ten worlds with poor polling histories and did their own studies to check against the Research Bureau team predictions.

   “That’s low for a statistically sound sample,” admits Tikolo, “but that was all we had time for.”

   And the results?

   “On seven of the ten worlds, the polls agreed with our analysis within the margin of error. The other three were within four points of the margin.”

   With the methodology judged acceptable, BeckerRomano’s messaging team swung into action. Thanks to the Research Bureau team, they were now able to segment their target audience down to the individual planetary level. This was the point when the team grew to its largest as additional analysts and translators were brought in to craft ads that would be tailored for each planet.

   “We paid a lot of attention to the wording of the campaign slogan,” Romano says. “Our experience in the marketing world shows that simple and short is better. The data showed us that support for the Federated Commonwealth was reasonably solid, but not spectacularly so. We wanted originally to tie the campaign to the aspirational goal of a ‘Strong Realm’, but the word ‘Realm’ had too many, sometimes contradictory, meanings for people in our focus groups.

“So we went for our second choice, ‘Strong Future’ and found that this resonated with the vast majority of those who supported the FedCom, as well as a significant majority of those that were neutral toward the FedCom, and, oddly enough, this phrase also tested well with nearly half of the FedCom-skeptics, so it was a natural fit as the ‘punch-line’.

   “The other two phrases reflected the basic concerns of the ordinary citizen – security and prosperity. We kept the adjective ‘Strong’ to tie everything together, and picked ‘Defences’ and ‘Economy’ to go with it because those terms could be partially self-defined by the viewer, and allow us a better chance to get agreement with the messaging.”

   There was another reason for keeping the wording as simple as possible. Now that they could tailor the message to planetary level, BeckerRomano proposed to their client, the FedCom government, that as far as possible, the advertising should run in the dominant languages of each planet, and the simple slogan aided translation.

   And now you know why there were multiple versions of the slogan at the top of this article. The simplicity of it allowed it to be rearranged according to planetary priorities without losing any of the impact.

   Those concerned with security would get messaging that emphasised the increased capability of upgraded vehicles to provide defences. Those wondering about seeing opportunities from the FedCom merger would be told how the revitalised military production would have flow on effects into many disparate parts of the economy. All would emphasise the better (Strong) future that would flow from the preceding things.

   With the concept nailed down Romano’s team went back to the FedCom government to pitch their execution ideas.

   

[PIC: Poster Proofs fanned out across a tabletop. CAPTION: “Some of the sample imaging BeckerRomano used”]

   “We planned on a large-scale campaign, without going full saturation, because that can backfire on you,” Romano explains. “We mocked up Screen ads, flat media, UniNet banner ads, the whole lot. We bought screen time, UniNet pageshare, static posters, mass transit decals – everything we could. We intended that each ad be topped and tailed by regional, recognised public figures, sandwiching a piece from, say, an entrepreneur, a soldier, and so on.

   “So we went to the government asking for help to get nobles, especially, to front these ads. “

   That was when the meeting took a bit of a surreal turn. The senior FedCom representative, upon hearing the request to facilitate the appearance of senior nobles in the ads, pointed out that this was a campaign of national importance, and if BeckerRomano wanted noble participation, why were they asking for regional nobles and not the Sovereigns themselves?

   “I had to admit to him that it was because we didn’t think we’d be able to get them!” Romano chuckles.

   But get them they did, which paved the way for the most memorable ad campaign in living memory.

   In hindsight, it’s easy to wonder how anyone other than the Archon and the First Prince could ever have been considered to open and close the ads, so perfectly did it work. But in fairness to BeckerRomano, this was a offer without precedent, which only emphasises again the importance placed on it at the highest levels of the government.

   The Research Bureau’s analyses continued to pay off even at this stage.

   “Going by the stereotypes, it would have been easy to make Archon Melissa the face of the ‘Strong Economy’ ads, and First Prince Hanse the face of the ‘Strong Defences’ ones right?” Tikolo asks. “But it’s not that simple. The modeling showed that, for example, in some places, people were pretty confident in Prince Davion’s martial abilities but wanted reassurance that he was concerned with their need to put food on the table – so there we’d have him doing a modified ‘Strong Economy’ pitch.

   “There were also some places where one Sovereign was more popular than another – for any number of reasons - so it made sense to use the more popular one there. That’s why the First Prince ended up being the front man in the ads that went to about one third of the planets in Skye – there was a lot of distrust over anything that was too obviously from Tharkad there.”

   Tikolo also provides another example that shows some of the complexities – Archon Melissa fronted the “Strong Defences” ad for Novaya Zemlya, a world in the Capellan March and an obvious choice for the First Prince to sell the plan.

   “But our analysis kept twigging on one of our factors, and after we dug a little, we found that there was a little bit of annoyance towards the First Prince because he had been photographed jogging in a Listowel Rockets jersey the year before, just before the Federation Cup playoffs.” The Listowel Rockets, arch-enemies of Lokomotiv Novaya Zemlya, famously beat Lokomotiv in the grand final of the FedSun’s top-tier interplanetary rugby championship that year.

   “So, just to be safe, the decision was made to use the Archon in that ad.”

   There were also ads that featured both Sovereigns. In the end, with over sixty variations of ads to be made for broadcast, BeckerRomano was granted an unprecedented six days of the Sovereigns’ time, spread over three weeks, to film their parts. In a happy circumstance, The First Prince was on Tharkad during this time, allowing the entire campaign to be pulled together there.

[PIC: Archon Melissa in Court Dress in front of a green screen. CAPTION: “The Archon between takes for the ‘Strong Future’ ad shoot]

   “How many variations?” Romano tries to recall. “There were ones with the Archon alone, the First Prince alone, both of them together, with the First Prince in military uniform, in a business suit, outdoors attire, the Archon in uniform, in court dress, in workwear. The background could be any number of environments matched to their wardrobes – the only ones we didn’t use were their throne rooms, because we wanted to make them feel as close to the people as possible.”

   And then there were the languages. Like most nobility across the realm, both the Archon and the First Prince were fluent in a number of languages, but the campaign certainly stretched their abilities.

   “I’m told they were enthusiastic supporters of the local language idea,” reports Romano, “and they pushed to speak as much of the different languages as they could.” While there were limits – there was only a subtitled version for Igbo speakers – viewers were treated to the sight of Hanse Davion speaking “surprisingly good Tharkad German,” according to one observer, while the good citizens of Panpour in the Federated Suns found the Archon gamely pitching in passable Urdu.

This last ad ended up spawning a cultural phenomenon among the worlds of the old United Hindu Collective when the popular variety show Doston ye Dekho! (Check this out, guys!) did a spoof of the ad featuring AsSamikwood superstar Priya Lockwood in a blonde wig sending up the Archon doing an ad for a popular soft drink. The skit was viewed over a billion times in forty-eight hours on the UniNet, eventually achieving cross-border memetic status.

Lockwood would reprise the role six more times over the next year, each time featuring the Archon hawking ever more ludicrous products. Famously, the Archon, showing quite the sense of humour, replied by filming her own version of Lockwood’s spoof ads where she championed a rival variety show.

For Romano, entering the cultural zeitgeist is confirmation that the campaign worked.

“After spending all this time talking about how we avoided stereotypes, it really was the old one that summed it up – ‘All publicity is good publicity’. Those parodies kept the campaign alive far beyond the end date. It’s the biggest job we’ve ever had, and I truly cannot thank the team enough for putting this together. It was a collective success.”

And the result? Multiple polls across the entire FedCom show that the message struck home. The ordinary citizen seems to have accepted that revitalising the military has to come first in order to enjoy the fruits of a return to the golden age, and that they also believe that they are likely to see personal economic benefit in due course.

Title: Re: A Reckoning
Post by: Daryk on 30 June 2020, 02:41:01

Well done, and very amusing!  :thumbsup:

Title: Re: A Reckoning
Post by: Artifex on 30 June 2020, 05:48:48

Well done indeed. :thumbsup:

Title: Re: A Reckoning
Post by: TheBrokenLance on 30 June 2020, 11:53:33

You always make the universe come alive, Alkemita.  Excellent.

Title: Re: A Reckoning
Post by: alkemita on 30 June 2020, 18:40:55

Quote from: Daryk on 30 June 2020, 02:41:01

Well done, and very amusing!  :thumbsup:

Quote from: Artifex on 30 June 2020, 05:48:48

Well done indeed. :thumbsup:

Quote from: TheBrokenLance on 30 June 2020, 11:53:33

You always make the universe come alive, Alkemita.  Excellent.

Thank you all for your kind words. This was one of those things that arrived almost fully formed in my mind - the catalyst being an image of Melissa SD speaking Urdu. :))

Title: Re: A Reckoning
Post by: Daryk on 30 June 2020, 19:36:25

Information warfare is my job, and I could only wish for contractors that competent...  :smitten:

Title: Re: A Reckoning
Post by: alkemita on 30 June 2020, 20:36:13

Quote from: Daryk on 30 June 2020, 19:36:25

Information warfare is my job, and I could only wish for contractors that competent...  :smitten:

LOL, let's just say that there's a reason they're that good

Title: Re: A Reckoning
Post by: Tegyrius on 30 June 2020, 20:37:45

I'd just like to note that Dechan Fraser has been one of my favorite BTU characters since I first read Wolves on the Border, and I find this treatment of him delightful.

Title: Re: A Reckoning
Post by: alkemita on 30 June 2020, 21:09:46

Quote from: Tegyrius on 30 June 2020, 20:37:45

I'd just like to note that Dechan Fraser has been one of my favorite BTU characters since I first read Wolves on the Border, and I find this treatment of him delightful.

I am honoured that you think so.

They could have done so much with him in canon, but they didn't. So I stole him.  ;)

Title: Re: A Reckoning
Post by: Daryk on 30 June 2020, 21:24:52

Just one more reason I'm reading this, despite not being a fan of the clans in any way...  :thumbsup:

Title: Re: A Reckoning
Post by: worktroll on 01 July 2020, 20:00:32

It may have taken me two and a half years to find this, but I'm very glad I did. I'm loving your work, and I wish you so much commercial success that you have more time to pander to us BT fans!  :thumbsup:

Title: Re: A Reckoning
Post by: alkemita on 01 July 2020, 22:59:34

Quote from: Daryk on 30 June 2020, 21:24:52

Just one more reason I'm reading this, despite not being a fan of the clans in any way...  :thumbsup:

Wow Daryk, that's quite a compliment - thank you. I'm neutral on the Clans myself, but always found them slightly unrealistic, so I'm trying to change that a bit here in future installments.

Quote from: worktroll on 01 July 2020, 20:00:32

It may have taken me two and a half years to find this, but I'm very glad I did. I'm loving your work, and I wish you so much commercial success that you have more time to pander to us BT fans!  :thumbsup:

Thanks Worktroll - I'm glad to have a fellow Aussie on board! My dream is to be a full time writer, and when that happens, I'll happily do more BT fanfic - wait till you see my BT/Aliens crossover where Kai Allard-Liao fights alongside Ripley against a hive!  :)) (That's a joke, BTW!)

Title: Re: A Reckoning
Post by: Red Pins on 03 July 2020, 17:39:05

Quote from: worktroll on 01 July 2020, 20:00:32

It may have taken me two and a half years to find this, but I'm very glad I did. I'm loving your work, and I wish you so much commercial success that you have more time to pander to us BT fans!  :thumbsup:

Me too.

Title: Re: A Reckoning
Post by: Cannonshop on 03 July 2020, 19:14:05

this is nice, I like this.

Title: Re: A Reckoning
Post by: alkemita on 26 July 2020, 20:58:21

Okay - this is a request for help.

Does anyone know how many factories/production facilities the FedCom had producing military gear around 3040?

Title: Re: A Reckoning
Post by: Shadow_Wraith on 26 July 2020, 21:08:15

I looked up from the FASA book dated 1992, Objective Raids circa 3054.  Counting the captured planets by the clans it was close to 70 locations/corporation s that operated in the FC space.  From electronics to dropships.  I guess you could reduce the operating production centers from there to the 3040 era?

Title: Re: A Reckoning
Post by: alkemita on 26 July 2020, 21:09:13

Quote from: Shadow_Wraith on 26 July 2020, 21:08:15

I looked up from the FASA book dated 1992, Objective Raids circa 3054.  Counting the captured planets by the clans it was close to 70 locations/corporation s that operated in the FC space.  From electronics to dropships.

Thanks!

Shoot, that was a lot lower than I expected...  :(

Title: Re: A Reckoning
Post by: Artifex on 27 July 2020, 09:50:50

Which makes it so amazing that House Steiner was considered to be the wealthiest for so long...  ::)

Title: Re: A Reckoning
Post by: alkemita on 27 July 2020, 15:28:53

Quote from: Artifex on 27 July 2020, 09:50:50

Which makes it so amazing that House Steiner was considered to be the wealthiest for so long...  ::)

Well, I only asked about military production facilities. Maybe the LyrCom is chockers with consumer electronics factories

Title: Re: A Reckoning
Post by: Sir Chaos on 27 July 2020, 15:31:43

Quote from: alkemita on 27 July 2020, 15:28:53

Well, I only asked about military production facilities. Maybe the LyrCom is chockers with consumer electronics factories

Or maybe the measure of wealth is the balance of the Swiss bank accounts (or bank accounts of whereever corrupt people stash their ill-gotten gains in the 31st century) of the nobility?

Title: Re: A Reckoning
Post by: DOC_Agren on 29 July 2020, 23:10:21

So alkemita I have to ask, on your play.  How was the table reading my now 16 year old finish his winter play 2 weekends before Covid crashed on us, lost spring and summer plays.

Title: Re: A Reckoning
Post by: alkemita on 30 July 2020, 19:22:00

Quote from: DOC_Agren on 29 July 2020, 23:10:21

So alkemita I have to ask, on your play.  How was the table reading my now 16 year old finish his winter play 2 weekends before Covid crashed on us, lost spring and summer plays.

Hey Doc,

Thanks for asking.

That sucks for your 16 year old. Please tell them I think I know how they feel! My play was shutdown after just the third rehearsal.

The table read went very well. We filmed it in Zoom and uploaded it to Youtube, like two of the other original plays in the program, so that the stakeholders could see some return on all the work we did. Despite a few initial problems, it finished very strong, and I'm really proud and grateful to my director, crew and cast for making it happen.

A relative of mine sent the link to a friend who's part of a community theatre organisation across the country, and I was told they're considering putting on my play when the restrictions lift.

Now, I should get back to the next part of A Reckoning...

Title: Re: A Reckoning
Post by: ThePW on 30 July 2020, 22:02:33

Quote from: alkemita on 30 July 2020, 19:22:00

Now, I should get back to the next part of A Reckoning...

Do we need to spot weld you to the chair, sir?

Title: Re: A Reckoning
Post by: alkemita on 02 August 2020, 10:21:47

Quote from: ThePW on 30 July 2020, 22:02:33

Do we need to spot weld you to the chair, sir?

Well, if you do that, I can't go running, and if I can't go running, I can't solve story problems like the absurdly low number of factories building military hardware in the FedCom...

Title: Re: A Reckoning
Post by: ThePW on 02 August 2020, 13:36:47

Quote from: alkemita on 02 August 2020, 10:21:47

Well, if you do that, I can't go running, and if I can't go running, I can't solve story problems like the absurdly low number of factories building military hardware in the FedCom...

The chair has wheels. you can scoot around. we just want you in range of your keyboard (or wifi, if wireless keyboard)

Title: Re: A Reckoning
Post by: DOC_Agren on 02 August 2020, 20:21:19

Nope he a theater guy, they have to be able to move to problem solve

I'm slowly learning this about them

Title: Re: A Reckoning
Post by: alkemita on 02 August 2020, 22:49:07

Quote from: DOC_Agren on 02 August 2020, 20:21:19

Nope he a theater guy, they have to be able to move to problem solve

I'm slowly learning this about them

Thanks Doc, you understand me completely on this one.

(And I solved the problem on this morning's run)

Title: Re: A Reckoning
Post by: DOC_Agren on 03 August 2020, 20:36:30

Quote from: alkemita on 02 August 2020, 22:49:07

Thanks Doc, you understand me completely on this one.

(And I solved the problem on this morning's run)

no, not fully understand just kinda
why i know the songs and some of the dance moves to high school musical jr.

Title: Re: A Reckoning
Post by: alkemita on 21 August 2020, 18:21:08

Forging the Pack - The Untold Story of Wolf’s Dragoons in the Reckoning
By Drs H. R. Cowan & T. S. Choi
Pub. New Avalon Press, 3068

        There is an ancient saying in military circles – “Amateurs talk tactics, Professionals talk logistics.”

   And so it was in the first half of the 3040s, as the clock ran down to the start of the Reckoning.

   Politically, the Federated Commonwealth had entered a new phase. Archon-Emeritus Katrina Steiner died on the 4th of January, 3040. Although she had abdicated the previous year, her continued presence had been a reassurance to hardline Lyran skeptics of the FedCom, who worried that her daughter would be incapable of holding her own against her formidable husband. This was despite all evidence to the contrary, especially the way Melissa, while not yet Archon, had stepped in to defuse tensions in Skye.

   Now firmly seated as Archon in her own right, Melissa Steiner-Davion continued to deftly thread the needle as the FedCom set out to prepare the realm for the expected invasion by the Clans. Although it was, and is, over-simplifying the issue to cast Hanse Davion as the “Warlord” and Melissa Steiner-Davion as the “Economist/Peacemaker”, both Melissa and Hanse were not above using those stereotypes when it suited their purposes.

   With Project BUILDING having mostly succeeded in its goal of replicating Clan-level weapons and associated material (although outside the Project BUILDING compartment, the technology was variously referred to as “Star League-Level”, “Late Star League-Level” or “Royal-Level”) the challenge now was to begin the large-scale rollout of the new material across the AFFC and selected mercenary commands (including most of the AMC).

   Given that this would involve over two hundred ‘Mech Regiments, as well as over ten times that in conventional forces and nearly three hundred AeroSpace Wings in front-line forces alone, it was obvious that this would have to be a phased program running over most of a decade.

   The AFFC dubbed the vehicle to actually accomplish the uplift “Plan GUARDIAN”.

   In a series of public briefings, it was revealed that there would be two major parts, or tranches, to GUARDIAN. The first involved refreshing units by the wholesale replacement of their combat vehicles with new-builds from revitalised factories. These would be “FC” series vehicles, which built on the work done by Blackwell Industries with the “WD” series ‘Mechs.

   The FC-series brought the “plug-and-play” approach to weapons systems to the entire range of AFFC standard combat vehicles. They further improved on the WD-series by incorporating the means to quickly swap out fusion engines and other major vehicle systems – something greatly appreciated by the Techs.

   Beyond the improvements mentioned above, very little new technology would actually be sent out at this stage. That would happen in Tranche 2. The official reason was that production of the cutting-edge components could not keep pace with that of what were essentially modified versions of common vehicles. This also led to accusations in the Estates General that the AFFC was not getting value for money. Various groups ran campaigns decrying the new-builds as “fitted-for-but-not-with” boondoggles.

   Despite such criticism, there was much backroom political manouevreing to determine which units would be first to receive this bounty. Several times, the Marshals and Field Marshals who sat atop the AFFC were compelled to step in to restore order, such was the venom being thrown around, and the Sovereigns eventually issued a joint statement reinforcing to all involved that they had signed off on GUARDIAN, and that was that.

   That was not the first time the Sovereigns had personally intervened in the process. Beyond much hand-holding and political horse-trading, they had also been the faces of the “Strong Future” ad blitz that sold the public on the enormous capital investment required to reopen the factories and production lines necessary to Plan GUARDIAN.

        This campaign was considered so important that the contract was handed to the top Lyran advertising firm BeckerRomano & Associates, who had the deck stacked for them by the loan of a team from the FedSuns’ Ministry of Ways & Means’s Research Bureau.

        We now know, from the Gorrich Leaks, that the blandly named "Research Bureau", seemingly concerned with measuring reaction to fiscal policy, was in fact the FedSun’s premier economic intelligence organ, charged with keeping an eye on the economic health of the other nations in the Human Sphere, in which cause they often worked with MIIO. Their use on this campaign has triggered ongoing inquiries over whether they exceeded their remit by operating inside the FedCom.

   Although roughly half the money for GUARDIAN would come from noble and corporate pockets (lured by visions of profits to be made), the other half would come from the public purse, which had a negative impact on federal programs, which was why securing public opinion was so vital.

   As for the role of the Dragoons in all of this, it was mainly behind the scenes. Public credit for enabling GUARDIAN went to the Helm Memory Core, and by extension the Gray Death Legion.

        In fact, the Dragoons provided the technical missing links that allowed long-disused production lines to be brought back online, and made the large scale production of combat vehicles possible once more. They had started making copies of Production Control Modules (PCMs) – the vital ROM chips that made LosTech production lines possible – in 3030. Initially this was to reactivate the factories on Outreach, but they continued to build stockpiles of this vital component, which they turned over to the FedCom around 3039. Once programmed with the relevant parameters, the PCMs allowed long-dormant factories to restart production, and massively increased the efficiency of those still running.

        The number of re-opened and new production lines activated thanks to the Dragoons’ technical expertise remains unknown, though some analysts have estimated the number at between 100-250. If the numbers at the higher end are true, that would mean that new production facilities were established from scratch – a truly staggering demonstration of LosTech recovery.

Title: Re: A Reckoning
Post by: alkemita on 21 August 2020, 18:22:26

The Reckoning Oral History Project
Transcript - Amelia H. Molefe. Interviewed by Tomas S. Choi
Carleon, New Avalon, 07 November, 3064

Note: This transcript has been edited for clarity and does not match the associated AV file ROHP-MoleAH01-30641107

Choi: Today is Monday, November 7th, 3064. This interview with retired Sergeant-Major Amelia Molefe is taking place at the Marshal Binyamin Rand-Davion Veterans' Home for The Reckoning Oral History Project. The interviewer is myself, Tomas Choi, and I'm being assisted by Geraldine Lucas.
Sergeant-major, I'd -

Molefe: Amelia, please. I'm retired.

Choi: Alright, Amelia. Thank you for taking the time to sit down with us today.

Molefe: My pleasure. Thank you for the invite. I'm happy to share my perspective and experiences.

Choi: Can we start then with some of your background, and how you ended up joining the AFFC - excuse me, it was the AFFS back then wasn't it?

Molefe: Right, right. Well, I think you can hear from my accent that I'm neither an Avalonian nor a native Anglic speaker. I'm from Wedgefield in the Crucis March, where three-quarters of the population - including my family - are native Deutsch speakers.

One of my fathers was an accountant, and the other was a chef. I was an okay student in school -

Lucas: You graduated from Lion's Peak High School in 3015, right?

Molefe: Yes.

Lucas: So you were in the same class as [Hall of Fame ForceCross Star] Juanita Molson?

Molofe: [laughs] Yes, I was! My one encounter with celebrity. Although, we used to say back then that we always knew she was going to go somewhere - we just didn't know if it was to the big leagues or the penitentiary!

Choi: Okay, so tell us how you ended up at Point Barrow Military Academy.

Molofe: Well, I'd always been good with machinery - by the time I was 16, I'd helped my parents restore a couple of classic aircars - a '98 Avanti Celeste and a '87 Holden Emir.

We were looking at an engineering degree at Wedgefield State, but because my marks were only okay, there was no chance of a scholarship, so we'd be looking at self-financing and loans. We did the math around the dinner table, and it looked doable, but then in my final year of high school, Chef-dad, as I called him, was diagnosed with pancreatic cancer.

That changed everything because the medical bills, even with the insurance used up most of our life savings - including my education fund, which I gave permission for them to use for treatment.

Choi: I'm sorry to hear that.

Molofe: Thank you - he made it though, lived another thirteen years, which was better than expected.

Anyway, so obviously, the illness didn't help my grades any, although we were able to get special consideration from the Education Department so they didn't slide too far, but the end result was that Wedgefield State wasn't an option anymore.

My parents refused to let me give up, though, so they looked around and [Point Barrow Military Academy] came up. It's got a bit of an unfair reputation as the school of last resort for Outback hicks, but they're really good at assessing on potential rather than straight marks because so many candidates arrive from worlds with severe educational deficits.

Choi: So before this, you hadn't considered a military career?

Molofe: No, not at all.

Choi: Please, go on.

Molofe: Right. So I applied to PBMA and got accepted into their Tech program. To my surprise, I found that we suited each other. They are very hands-on in their teaching - I think I assisted in rebuilding a leg actuator inside of my first month there - and that was just the way I liked to learn.

Lucas: Point Barrow has a reputation for being a high-pressure school -

Molofe: Ja.

Lucas: - did you see any of that?

Molofe: Oh yes, oh yes I did. Maybe one third of my class dropped out within the first six months. In the Tech program, we were well aware that the 'Mech, or Fighter, or tank that we repaired this afternoon would be used in a field op by fellow cadets the next morning, so there was certainly that constant awareness that the lives of our classmates and officers were in our hands. Not everyone could take that, but for some reason I could.

Choi: What happened after you graduated?

Molofe: I was assigned to the Remagen [Crucis March Militia] as a [Military Qualification Code] Tango-07-Bravo - a BattleMech Technician. A bit disappointing, because, of course, everyone wants assignment to a front line or glamour unit, right? But in hindsight, it was a good place to be for a junior tech. We did a lot of improvising and scavenging, and my senior techs were amazing at passing on their knowledge and experience, they made me a much better Tech.

Then, a few years later, I was transferred to the 12th [Deneb Light Cavalry] - finally! An front-line unit! I made Corporal, then Sergeant in due course, and became a supervising tech, responsible for all the 'Mechs in 8th Company. Very rewarding, that, especially when we started participating in the GALAHAD exercises and my team was able to consistently put at least 9 'Mechs in the field everyday - sometimes we had as many as 11.

Lucas: 9? As in 9 out of 12 -Mechs in the company?

Molofe: Correct. Remember, this was the LosTech era, not like today. We had lost so much, and supply chains were so damaged that during the Second Succession War, the old AFFS changed the definition of a "full strength" unit from over 90% of [table of Organisation & Equipment] strength to 75% TO&E strength. So, having 9 'Mechs ready to go everyday was a great achievement. Believe it or not, we got a unit commendation for doing that!

Anyway, I went to war with the 12th in 3029.

......

Molofe: Three years after the war, I moved into a new role - Logistics Sergeant-Major for the RCT. But I was only there for 5 months before they called for volunteers to go on exchange with the [Lyran Commonwealth Armed Forces]. Since I spoke Deutsch, the [Personnel Department] strongly suggested that I would be a good candidate, and since I was a good soldier, I volunteered [Laughs].

Lucas: You were assigned to the 26th Lyran Guards RCT right?

Molofe: Yes.

Choi: What was your role with the 26th?

Molofe: The Lyran title was "Hauptfeldwebel" which is literally "Head Field Guide", but in terms of actual responsibility, it was their equivalent of the AFFS Logistics Sergeant-Major, so I was doing the same job. That's a title, by the way, not a rank - the actual rank of a Hauptfeldwebel was actually Staff Sergeant Major in the old ranks, which was the equivalent of my AFFS rank of Sergeant Major. Aren't you glad we created a whole new rank system?

Choi: How was your integration with the 26th? We know there were some problems with the early exchanges -

Molofe: I didn't have any problems - well, perhaps I should say I didn't have any major problems. Maybe 90% of the issues I had came from the differences between Wedgefield Deutsch and Tharkad-Standard Deutsch, but as I said, those were minor only.

Choi: So there weren't a lot of cultural missteps and -

Molofe: Oh, there were a few, but this was an exchange, right, so some initial problems are only to be expected -

Choi: Okay -

Molofe: - and we were the third or fourth group of exchanges, you know? Not the first, so we all got a very good briefing before we left that minimised that sort of thing.

Choi: Can you compare the 26th to your previous unit?

Molofe: In what sense?

Choi: Quality, readiness, leadership -

Molofe: Ah. The 12th and the 26th were very different types of formations, you understand. I'd hesitate to -

Choi: Oh, I'm not asking who'd -

Molofe: - choose one over the other, so -

Choi: - win in a fight between them -

Molofe: Right, right -

Choi: - just what differences struck you, especially given these days there's less of a difference between the two state commands, you know, like how two [Davion] Guards RCTs now have Lyran-born commanders, and one of the Royal Guards has a Feddie CO.

Molofe: Well, I think the differences had more to do with the different set-ups of the units rather than where they were raised.

Lucas: You mean like how the 12th Deneb is built for raids and strikes, while the 26th Lyran was heavy unit?

Molofe: Exactly, exactly. Those are different mission sets and lead to different mentalities. In the 12th Deneb, speed of action and the ability to adapt on the move was highly prized, because that's what will keep you alive in the kinds of missions you can expect to receive.

Choi: Yes.

Molofe: Whereas in the 26th, the emphasis was on deliberate and vigorous execution of the plan, again because of the way they were set up, with all the heavy 'Mechs and tanks. Now, just because the [Deneb Light Cavalry] were good at improvising, it didn't mean they never planned, and just because the Lyran Guards planned how best to use their assets didn't mean they never changed that plan when the situation changed too.

Choi: Alright, I want to move ahead a few years to 3042 and Plan GUARDIAN -

Molofe: Ah, yes!

Choi: The records tell us that you were the 26th's project officer for that. Can you tell us how you got involved?

Molofe: Well, there had been rumours flying around that LosTech weapons were coming soon ever since the Fourth War. And we'd seen some of the early stuff too - [the 26th Lyran Guards] crossed paths with the 3rd [Lyran] Royal Guards in the mid-30s and our eyes were like that when we saw what [double heat sinks] did for their combat performance.

So we were not too surprised that eventually new equipment would reach us. What was surprising was the way it happened in... yes, it was 3042.

I remember I was in my Friday afternoon planning meeting with my Techs when I got word that the C.O. [Leutnant General Joy Corelli] had called a staff meeting.

Well, honestly I cursed that the meeting hadn't been put on my schedule, but I soon found out that no one else knew anything about it when I arrived at the conference room.

There was one stranger there -

Lucas: Sorry, could you just give us a sense of who was in the meeting?

Molofe: General Corelli, the XO, General Green-Davion, all the regimental C.O.s, their XOs and sergeants-major, as well as all the staff heads.

Lucas: So, about 30 people in all?

Molofe: That sounds about right, yes.

Choi: Go on.

Molofe: Where was I...?

Choi: You were saying there was one stranger in the room -

Molofe: Right! It was a [Replacement Depot Corps] Colonel - I think his name was... McAskill! Yes, it was Colonel McAskill.

General Corelli told us that Colonel McAskill was here to coordinate the rearmament of the 26th as part of Plan GUARDIAN, and she turned the meeting over to him.

The colonel told us that Plan GUARDIAN%u2019s goal was to completely re-equip the entire AFFC over the next decade. Because of the 26th's location and station (we were based on Tamar) we were fairly high up the list. He told us that the [Lyran] Royal Guards and Davion Guards were being re-equipped as we spoke, so we were in the second wave. Not too shabby.

It was the next two things he said that shocked us. The first was that every weapons platform in the RCT that wasn't man-portable was going to be replaced. Tanks, fighters, arty, the whole lot. That was a huge morale boost for us because we all expected the 'Mechs to get done first, but it was now clear that everyone was being treated equally.
The second bombshell - and I use the term deliberately - that he dropped was that not only was everything going to be replaced, we were also going to get brought up to actual book strength.

You know how I said earlier that I got a commendation for putting 9 'Mechs in the field? Well that company only had 11 'Mechs, total, so it was actually considered full strength.

Choi: Can you give us an idea of the deficiencies in the 26th?

Molofe: Well, I'm going by memory here - we were authorized 120 BattleMechs. We actually had... 107, 109? Something like that, certainly not more than 110.

In tanks, it was similar. Authorised 120 heavy tanks, actual number was around 90. Light tanks authorised was 240, we actually had about 200. Yes, I know that sounds backwards from a normal RCT allocation, but General Corelli liked having additional scouts and harrassers to drive the enemy to her heavy 'Mechs.

Our AeroSpace forces were short a squadron, so 30 versus 36 authorised.

We were actually overstrength in our artillery - we had 42 tubes instead of the authorised 36, and that caused problems for our GUARDIAN refit because - or do you want to talk about that later?

Choi: That might be better, yes. So, given how troop strength definitions had been revised during the Succession Wars, even with those material shortages -

Molofe: Ja, we were considered full strength. The LCAF, by the way, used a different number, 80% of TO&E was full strength to them.

Choi: So, take us through the process for implementing Plan GUARDIAN.

Molofe: You know there were actually two parts to the plan, right?

Lucas: Yes, we know. Do you have any comment on the way it was structured?

Molofe: Oh, in hindsight, it makes sense, but I'd be lying if I said we weren't disappointed that the new tech wasn't coming right away.

It's... It's the change in mindset that we needed to undergo, you know? Seeing the vehicle and it's weapons loadout as complementary, but separate systems.

Choi: Tell us about part one.

Molofe: Okay, so, Colonel McAskill told us that in Part 1, we would be getting new-build vehicles to replace our existing ones on a one-to-one basis - plus extras to bring us up to full book strength, right?

Even though there wasn't any LosTech on the new vehicles, I was very happy with this.

Choi: Why?

Molofe: Well, as a former Tech, I was all too aware that the older the equipment the worse it is to maintain. And with supply lines being the way they were, some of the jerry-rigging that we used to do just made things harder in the long run.

It;s things like, umm... the -2D Commando is supposed to require just 4 man-hours of servicing between missions, okay? So your average crew of a Tech and their three AsTechs can turn it around in an hour, right? But as they get older, it was rare that we were able stick to this timeframe. 12-16 man-hours was what it took now, and that's not counting repairing battle damage.

Also, there were things like... I remember back in the DLC, we ran out of coolant feed lines one time in the Fourth War, so I took a crew and we scrounged domestic feed lines from a local hardware store - the sort of thing you'd find under your sink at home, okay? And they worked, after a fashion, but we spent hours after the battle purging coolant systems because the the fluid was corrosive to the lines and we ended up with deposits clogging the heat sinks. Those heat sinks were never the same after that.

So, just having new vehicles was a huge boost to our capabilities. They don't break down as much, everything on them works the way it's supposed to.

But I'm getting off track... um...

Lucas: You were telling us about part 1.

Molofe: Thank you. Right - my immediate boss, Colonel [Jordan] Bass tapped me to run what we called "The Refresh".

Colonel McAskill had a small staff with him, and I tapped a few of my colleagues as well.

The first job was to take an inventory of all our equipment - which is a pain in the butt at the best of times, but we'd recently done one, so I asked Colonel McAskill if that would suffice. He checked, and the initial answer was "no". The guys running GUARDIAN wanted the info to be no more than 90 days old, and our inventory had been done 92 days ago.

But I have to give McAskill credit here - he went in to bat for us, and they accepted our inventory as valid for the refresh.

Choi: I'm assuming this was the standard LCAF annual inventory you're talking about?

Molofe: Yes, "numbers of", "condition of", etcetera... And believe it or not, despite the reputation of the LCAF bureaucracy, I actually found their inventory process easier than the AFFS one. I believe the AFFC's own annual inventory these days is based on the LCAF model.

Choi: Right. So you had the inventory -

Molofe: Yes, yes. We submitted the inventory, and a couple of weeks later, we got back a list of questions - mainly to do with chassis recommendations for the open slots in our TO&E.

Three months later, the largest convoy I'd seen since the end of the Six Months War grounded on Tamar.

I was there at Audrey Kelswa DropPort when they landed - dozens of DropShips coming down. And once their hatches opened, we sent in every [Low-Loader] and [Mech Recovery Vehicle] we had. The convoy brought some of their own too, so we could offload in a reasonable amount of time.

That was quite a sight - what looked like an endless column of 'Mechs, tanks and [Armoured Personnel Carriers] coming out of those DropShips.

Lucas: I have to ask this, mainly because it's become such a staple of media works in recent years -

Molofe: No, no one in our party cried at the sight. I agree it makes good viewing, but there was no crying, not in the 26th.

Lucas: What were you thinking when you saw that, though?

Molofe: [Pause] It felt like a weight was lifting off my back that I didn't even know I'd been carrying. I think I had a moment of that soldier's hope - the one wish we all have that maybe, just maybe, we've seen the last war and we wouldn't have to go back into the fire.

I mean, I was watching the AFFC replace all our weapons! Never mind that there was no LosTech on them. If we could do that, which of our enemies could challenge us now?

Choi: Like a turning point in history.

Molofe: Ja, and it was, just not quite in the way we thought.

Choi: How did the actual Refresh process work?

Molofe: Well, we were in only the second wave, so there wasn't a lot of experience I could draw on, but we decided to take a staggered approach. We decided that changing out a company/battery/squadron at a time was the most manageable way to go - as it turns out, this was the approach that most commands used.

We would bring the replacement vehicles down to the company's bay, laager or hanger, leave them, and haul away the old ones.

By the way, this also caused us some grief, because we'd all gotten used to repurposing unused spaces to store all sorts of things. Now, we were better than some other units, we didn't do anything dumb like keeping volatiles and ammo in the Mech Bays, but we had to do a lot cleaning out and re-packing, because - mein Gott - all the bays were going to be filled!

Lucas: This is the point where some MechWarriors, especially, had issues with GUARDIAN -

Molofe: You're talking about the "not like" protests -

Lucas: Yes. The 26th had spent centuries fighting the DCMS. You must have acquired quite a bit of Kuritan equipment -

Molofe: Ja.

Lucas: Where there any issues when you swapped over?

Molofe: Not with armour and artillery. Most of them were just happy to have new vehicles, even if some of them had to learn to use different models.

No, it was the Aero- and MechWarriors who kicked up the biggest stinks over this especially the MechWarriors.

Choi: Can you give some examples?

Molofe: Well, without naming names, of course -

Choi: Of course.

Molofe: And to be fair, the vast majority of the MechWarriors were happy with their lot. Ummm... we had two [PNT-9R] Panthers in the unit, captured salvage from long ago. They were replaced with [WLF-2FC] Wolfhounds, since, obviously, the FedCom doesn't manufacture Panthers. One Warrior complained endlessly about the Wolfhound not having jump jets like the Panther, the other never said a word.

Likewise, we had few complaints about swapping out Dragons for Warhammers.

The one real problem we had was a Leftenant in Third Battalion who didn't want to give up the  family Goliath for a new FC-series Zeus. I believe he was from Bolan, originally, and one of his ancestors had captured the Goliath from a [Free Worlds League] invading force.

Can you believe it - this Leftenant claimed that over the past two hundred years, his family had "evolved" - that was his actual term - "evolved" into quad-'Mech specialists!

Choi: How did the chain of command take that?

Molofe: Not very well - he ended up signing over the Goliath "under protest" but he did it. He did become a true believer later, during the Reckoning.

Choi: Funny how that happens...

Molofe: I know, ja? Look, we got off pretty lightly on that front. I heard stories from some of my friends on the Capellan front, right? Actual lawsuits being filed because they don't want to give up Vindicators for Centurions or Enforcers, or Catapults for Crusaders.

Lucas: Yes, we've interviewed some people from those units already.

Molofe: Is it true that a MechWarrior challenged the Archon to a duel?

Lucas: It was the warrior's father, actually, but yes, it's true - cited some never-repealed provision in the Kikuyu legal code.

Molofe: [laughs] Oh, I'd have loved to see someone try that on General Corelli!

Choi: Were there any issues in the 26th about giving up family-owned 'Mechs?

Molofe: Not at first - our upgrade was completed before the Barrington Case came up - that was the guy in the 20th [Avalon] Hussars, wasn't it?

Lucas: 22nd, actually, but yes, you're right, they were in the 4th wave, and you were 2nd wave.

Molofe: Ja, right. It's - it's another example of the mind shift I mentioned earlier, where you need to stop thinking about 'Mechs as a whole and start considering them in terms of connected systems.

I can sort of sympathise with the Mech- and AeroWarriors - finding out that they only owned the chassis of the replacements for their family machines must have been a hell of a shock, you know. Even though there was a clear provision that when they mustered out, they would have own everything their 'Mech was configured with at the time, so they would come out ahead eventually.

Choi: Did the tankers feel the same way?

Molofe: Not so much - but then, very few tanks are family owned. They were more concerned that the supply chain would bring in the promised upgrades in Tranche 2.

Choi: Getting back on track - so you now have all-new equipment in the hangers. What happens next?

Molofe: Everyone goes back to school. Colonel McAskill's team included a bunch of senior instructors to bring everyone up to speed on the new stuff. Now, I can't speak to the shooter end -

Choi: Don't worry, we've talked to some of them already. Give us your perspective.

Molofe: Sure. As a former 'Mech Tech, man, the new machines were so much easier to work on. I mean, when people said the FC-series was "nothing new" - and this was pre-Reckoning, right - they didn't know what they were talking about.

The FC-series managed to correct most of the deficiencies and quirks we knew so well in the 'Mechs. Everything from the Marauder's poorly armoured hips to the crappy ammo feeds on the Enforcer. That alone would have been worth it, but the quick-change tech they brought in cut our repair times in half - sometimes more than that. Even for a complete engine change - well, most tanks already had the system, but it was new for the 'Mechs to be able to yank out and replace a complete reactor in less than an hour - with the right equipment, of course.

And if I put on my Hauptfeldwebel hat, it's more good news, because now I don't have to stock four different models of Medium Laser - all the vehicles take any of them, and I can make the Colonel look good just by bringing in whichever there's the most of right now!

Remember that all of this was before we even got our hands on the LosTech in Tranche 2 - did you want to talk about that now?

Lucas: Actually I have some more questions about Tranche 1, if you don't mind?

Choi: Yes, yes, ask them. We'll save Tranche 2 for later.

Lucas: Okay, so we've dealt with the arrival of the new machines. What happened to the old ones?

Molofe: Ah, right. So we had to prep a holding area in our bays where the old machines would be brought - this was the main reason why we swapped out a company at a time - space constraints in the work bays.

Another part of McAskill's team, together with a some of our seconded Techs and AsTechs, went over the old machines and graded them as either "keep" or "scrap" - those aren't the actual terms they used, I've forgotten the real ones - "keep%" and "scrap" is what we called it.

Choi: That's fine...

Molofe: "Keep" didn't mean the machine was in perfect shape, the way it was explained to me, if it could be brought up to full function with a reasonable amount of work, it went into the "keep" pile.

Lucas: What was considered a "reasonable" amount of work?

Molofe:  [laughs] No idea! It seemed to depend on whoever the assessing officer was that day. I saw a -5S Thunderbolt get put in the "scrap" column because the coolant system needed a complete overhaul, but a Stinger was kept even though they ended up replacing both arms and a leg!

Lucas: How much of your original equipment ended up in either column?

Molofe: Oh, I'd say it was roughly one-third keep, two-thirds scrap. We got some of the scrap back though - mainly weapons, heat sinks and armour plate - for our parts stocks.

Choi: And the machines in the "keep" pile were of course, destined for units further down the priority list. Did you ever find out where your old machines went?

Molofe: No, they didn't tell me that. But there was a little incident with that.

Choi: Do tell.

Molofe: Ummm... so about halfway through Tranche 1 this was - one day, I've stopped back into the office between inspections to finish some paperwork, and Colonel McAskill storms in with his [Administrative Officer]. From what I overheard, they'd been ordered to speed up the timetable because the destination for our old equipment had changed, and they needed to be done two weeks early to make the shipping schedule work.

Turned out I'd just seen one of the last times the old Social Generals were trying to line their own pockets.

Anyway, McAskill got on the horn to his CO, ummm, what was his name? Oh yes! Ritter! Leutnant General Ritter, who got the orders belayed and reverted to plan.

Choi: Okay, so we've touched on the this briefly, but can you tell me about how the 26th coped with having their full complement of equipment?

Molofe: It was quite a pain, actually.

Choi: Really? How so?

Molofe: Well, understand that we had we had been under TO&E strength for decades, so our back-end staffing had also been understrength. We didn't have enough Techs, Warriors and so on to make full use of them.

Lucas: So what did you do?

Molofe: Pretty much what all the other units upgraded by GUARDIAN did, I suppose. Uh, Colonel Bass and myself did a recruiting drive through Tamar, looking for people we could turn into Techs and AsTechs. The Colonel let me do most of the work, I think because I had the Point Barrow background and was comfortable assessing technical potential, while he was a Sanglamore grad, and he was more comfortable with paper qualifications!

Choi: How did it go?

Molofe: Not too shabby. General Corelli got the Duke [of Tamar] to authorise a limited recall to active service for certain reservists, so we got enough Techs to cover our needs for the short term until our recruiting could kick in. Some of the retreads actually stayed with us long term though.

I didn't have too much insight into recruiting MechWarriors, but I did lose two of my Techs - they were dispossessed MechWarriors, and General Corelli okayed the transfer subject to them passing check-rides, which both of them did.

I know a couple of staff officers found themselves back in a 'Mech too, but by and large, my involvement was limited to making sure certain 'Mechs were ready for use to prospects could be checked out on them.

Lucas: Did the 26th use -

Molofe: "Combat Trials" to select MechWarriors? No - we sent them through the [Fire & Manuever] Ranges, but none of that pitting candidates against each other that some other units did. Besides, that was the kind of shit that the Clans did, wasn't it? I'm glad we didn't do that.

Title: Re: A Reckoning
Post by: alkemita on 21 August 2020, 18:23:01

Harlech, Outreach
Sarna March, Federated Commonwealth
March 27, 3042

   Kasper Nowak blinked against the harsh afternoon light as he stepped out of Wolf Hall into the street. He plucked a pair of sunglasses from inside his jacket, taking his time negotiating the wide steps outside to give his stiff back time to loosen up, shuffling to the side to allow clumps of younger, fitter people, most of them in the dress uniforms of Wolf’s Dragoons, to stride past him.

   He’d just spent the past couple of hours standing in the main amphitheatre of Wolf Hall – an enormous round space that could have held most of the Dragoons at one time, it reminded him somewhat of post-Vatican IV cathedrals, including St Eugene’s in Novo Krakow on Satalice where he’d once been an altar server.

   The occasion was the memorial service for Seventh Kommando’s Team Silver Wolf. The amphitheatre had been stripped of all adornment for this, down to the seats, which was why he’s stood for so long that his back was protesting now. One by one, the eighteen deceased Kommandos had been acknowledged and eulogised by family, comrades and friends – even if the structure was overly formal and stiff to his mind, being a hybrid of Clan and Inner Sphere traditions.

   Also, he had other concerns. Two weeks ago, Alex Mallory had been forced to step down as head of the Liaison and Coordination Group. Injuries suffered in the service of the FedSuns while undercover in the Capellan Confederation before and during the Fourth Succession War had flared up, robbing him of the stamina and concentration necessary to do the job.

   The Sovereigns had promptly confirmed Nowak as the new head of the LCG, which was nice, but he badly needed a deputy, and they were still looking for one. The whole LCG was only six – currently five – strong, and there was more than enough work for twice that number.

   The LCG had oversight over all the Dragoons’ activities, and their remit had steadily grown. It was Mallory who had strongly insisted to Jaime Wolf that he could no longer both run the Dragoons and Outreach itself on a day-to-day basis. This had led to the appointment of a civilian Prime Minister – one Jermaine Ducard - to govern the planet, with Wolf remaining the ceremonial Head of State.

   In truth Wolf had probably seen the writing on the wall already, since he hadn’t fought too hard against the “suggestion”.

   But he was sure to fight hard in the Command Council meeting that Nowak was heading to next.

   Many of the Dragoons senior officers seemed to operate under the assumption that if and when the “Great Plan” kicked off, they would be fighting as some sort of semi-independent task force, going to turn the tide where the battle was hardest, a reward for their key role in uplifting the AFFC. No matter how hard Mallory had tried to disabuse them of the notion, they clung to it.

   That belief was at the heart of many of the requests and stances they took in dealing with the LCG, and Nowak felt the weight of trying to accomplish what Mallory wasn’t able to as he crossed the wide plaza with increasingly surer steps now his back was loosening up.

   His comm buzzed and he pulled it from his pocket.

   “Nowak.”

   “Sir, are you on the way to HQ?” came the voice of Miklos Sharma, his Executive Assistant.

   Nowak looked up toward the far end of the plaza, where the Dragoons’ public HQ building was situated, facing Wolf Hall. He could see the tiny figure of Sharma pacing agitatedly in front of the sentries at the doors.

   “I’m just coming across the plaza now, Micky” he reported calmly. “And don’t pace like that,” he added, “It makes the natives nervous.” Off in the distance, Sharma abruptly stopped pacing but his head continued to swivel looking for his boss.

   Nowak shut off his comm with a sigh and made a beeline for Sharma. The man was great at his job, but a blind person could read his body language to find out how he was feeling.

   As Nowak reached the bottom step, someone to his right called out: “Major - your left!”

   Out of the corner of his eye, Nowak caught a swirl of black from a Dragoons dress uniform cape. He pulled up short just as a petite Dragoons officer did the same, the two of them just barely avoiding a collision.

   “Your pardon, Major,” he said automatically, before recognition kicked in. She was wearing the patch of Epsilon Brigade, and her name tag said “Tzu-West”, but that’s not what provoked Nowak’s realisation.

   He’d seen Major Tzu-West not half an hour ago, as part of the memorial service for Captain Reuben Salazar, the commander of Silver Wolf. Tzu-West had been one of the official mourners, forming part of a procession made up of Dragoons that Captain Salazar had trained.

   “That’s alright, sir,” Tzu-West replied, sweeping out an arm to indicate her party, “we managed to distract ourselves with our conversation. Good day.” And she jerked her head to get her group moving up the steps into HQ.

   “Good day to you too, Major,” Nowak muttered distractedly. He heard a clatter of feet from behind, and turned to face a very stressed looking Miklos Sharma who was tightly gripping the secure attache case, even though it was discreetly chained to his wrist.

   “Sir, that was –“
   “Major Emilia Tzu-West, yes,” Nowak nodded as he continued up the steps, Sharma flying wingman beside him.
   “And she’s – “
   “Item five on the agenda,” Nowak interrupted as he and Sharma pressed their security passes to the sensor plate. “I did read it before going to the memorial,” he finished.

   After they were admitted, they crossed to the elevator banks behind the foyer, past a massive Dragoons’ badge mounted on the dividing wall and took a ride to the third floor. There they passed through two more security checkpoints before entering another elevator, which headed down, way below ground level before spitting Nowak and Sharma out in a secure lobby.

   One final security check, and they entered the spacious secure conference room. Nowak walked counter-clockwise around the horseshoe shaped table, past some of the screens and holotanks that ringed most of the room, to his usual seat two down from the head of the table. Sharma’s seat was behind his, on a riser, which allowed him to pass things over the shoulder to Nowak – which he did right away, handing over a briefing file bordered with security classification tape and featuring a copy of the meeting agenda on the front cover.

   “Afternoon, ladies and gents,” Nowak called as he took his seat, his eyes sweeping the table. It was about half full.

   Colonels Kelly Yukinov and Patrick Chan, commanders of Alpha and Gamma Brigades respectively, paused In their conversation to acknowledge his greeting. Colonel Stanford Blake, the head of Wolfnet, likewise smiled at him before going back to his tablet. Colonel Jeremy Ellman, dual-hatted as head of Training Command and Home Guard CO, did not acknowledge him, but continued talking to the grizzled tanker Captain that was his aide. There was also a Chief Technician whose name Nowak could never pronounce correctly, and a scientist he didn’t know.

   When Nowak looked up again, the doors were just opening to admit Colonels John Clavell and J. Elliot Jamison, the commanders of the Wolf Spider and Zeta Battalions. They exchanged professional nods with Nowak and their peers as they settled in.

   The doors opened once more, and a stone-faced Colonel Elizabeth Nichole strode in. She ignored everyone else in the room and took a seat at the far, open end of the horseshoe.

   Nowak made sure his face was completely neutral and resisting the urge to glance down at the agenda. He wouldn’t have wanted to be in her shoes today. He glanced at one of the chronometers positioned around the room, and gathered his legs beneath him.

   Just as the chronometer ticked over from 15:63 to 16:00, the doors opened a final time for General Jaime Wolf and his party.
   “Attention!” barked Colonel Yukinov as he shot from his seat, everyone in the room imitating him.
   “As you were,” Wolf said quietly, taking his seat, the others following suit.
   “We are in session at sixteen-hundred hours,” he remarked.
   “Rear Admiral Chandra sends his apologies,” Blake spoke up. “He’s overseeing an issue at the Yard.”

   It could still send a shiver through Nowak to hear of “the Yard” being spoken of so casually – it was the joint Dragoons AFFC secret WarShip Yard under construction in the far reaches of the Outreach system, a sibling to the other pair being built at Novaya Zemlya in the FedSuns and Alarion in the LyrCom. WarShip construction – almost the ultimate in LosTech, was almost within their capabilities again.

   “Alright, let’s get started,” Wolf said next. He didn’t ask about the absence of representation from Beta and Delta Brigades. One large screen in the room displayed a map of the FedCom, with icons for Beta and Delta Brigades prominently displayed, showing Delta on Arcturus, and Beta in transit between Robinson and Outreach.

   “Old business?” Wolf asked next as one of his aides silently made notes on her tablet. Nowak looked both ways up and down the table, but nobody moved. After a moment, Wolf said, “Very well, new business.”

   Now Nowak did glance at the thick file in front of him. The first three items were status updates of one sort or another.

   Nowak eased back in his chair as the updates began. He knew most of this stuff already because of his day-to-day contact with most of the Dragoons’ senior officers. About the only new thing he heard was a proposal to test a new configuration for the Elemental Powered Armour that removed all weapons for a stripped-down medium-class laser.

   Wolf allowed a bit of debate on the matter before closing the item with authorisation to do a feasibility study.

   Yukinov and Chan jointly briefed future deployments for their brigades – Alpha was going to take part in a large-scale exercise against Capellan March Militia forces. They would simulate raids from the Capellan Confederation to test the ability of the reserve forces to hold the line in the absence front line units.

   Gamma, with the Wolf Spiders attached, would be leaving for the Combat Training Center on Defiance, where they would simulate a Galaxy-sized invading force for the Second Davion Guards RCT, and then reconfigure along the lines of what they believed a ComStar Guards Division (actually closer in strength to a brigade) was like to play defenders against the Davion Heavy Guards.

   As Chan stepped away from the podium and closed down the holotank, Wolf thanked him and then turned to Nowak.

   “I believe the next item is yours, Director,” he said.

   “Thank you, General,” Nowak did not stand. He just flipped open is folder to the tab placed by Sharma and got straight to the point.

   “AFFC Naval Command wants you to return all Dragoons JumpShips to the troop transport role, effective immediately.” That last part wasn’t strictly true, but Nowak wanted to leave a little wiggle room to get concessions from Wolf.

   “Why?” Wolf’s voice was level, even friendly. The looks on some of his officers’ faces was less so.

   “Capacity. Project GUARDIAN is straining interstellar transport throughout the the whole FedCom and raising the prices that the shipping companies can charge.”

   “I know,” grinned Colonel Blake – “Dragoons Interstellar Shipping” – he named the mercenaries’ transport company “is one of the companies your bosses are using to move GUARDIAN material around.”

   “Quite,” Nowak smiled through the interruption, then pressed on. “NavCom feels that if you were to bring the ten JumpShips that DIS is using back into service as troop transports, you can be completely responsible for moving all Dragoons forces. They say that since your brigades cover so much space, they take up transport capacity out of all proportion to their numbers.”

   Yukninov leaned forward in his seat.

   “So you’re barring us from all AFFC transports?”

   Always has to paint things in the worst possible light, grumped Nowak internally, but he recognised the role Yukinov was playing.
   “Of course not, Colonel. The Dragoons continue to have access to NavCom transportation when required by the situation. NavCom simply feels that the JumpShips being used by DIS would better serve the mission by returning to their former role.”
   “So how much is NavCom going to offer us in compensation?” asked Wolf.
   Interesting, thought Nowak. They expected the Dragoons to ask for money to offset the revenue they would lose from shutting down DIS, but Wolf named Naval Command, not the FedCom government as a whole, as the entity he expected to be compensated by, thus subtly hinting that the whole matter be dismissed as a bureaucratic kerfuffle if the notion was dropped.

   Nowak had spent a good deal of his former intelligence career working against the Draconis Combine, and Wolf’s moves were eerily familiar to him.
   For someone who’s made an implacable enemy of the Combine, he sure isn’t adverse to using their negotiating style!
   Out loud, he said, “Compensation? Why? Those ships are merely seconded to DIS, liable for recall at any time.”

   “There needs to be a good reason for the recall, Nowak,” put in Blake. “From a purely security point of view, suddenly pulling ten JumpShips from their supply runs is going to be very noticeable.”

   “I’m sure we can get NavCom to agree to allowing them to finish currently contracted voyages,” Nowak deployed his card. There, I budged. Now do the same or I can get you for being unreasonable.

   “I think that could be possible,” allowed Wolf after a moment’s pause, “as long as we are compensated for loss of revenue.” Without looking, Wolf held up his left hand and an aide placed a folded piece of paper in it. Wolf passed it to Nowak, who made no move to open it.

   “That figure is based on estimated revenues for the 3042-43 fiscal year,” Wolf said by way of explanation.

   Trying to make it an ongoing payment instead of a one-off, Nowak recognised. He tucked the paper, still unopened, into the folder.

   “I cannot authorise any payment of this nature on my own.”
   “Of course.”
   “I’ll have NavCom look at it,” Nowak said, trying to draw a line under the matter.
   “I’d appreciate it if you did. We still have a long way to go bringing our forces up to the level they need to be at,” Wolf dropped in the reminder.

   Nowak debated whether to try to burst the Dragoons’ bubble one more time, but decided against it and just nodded. This matter would not be settled today, and they still had more minefields to negotiate.

   “Item five, Director,” Sharma whispered from behind Nowak.

   “Item Five,” Wolf echoed, his voice suddenly turning more formal. “Major Emilia Tzu-West requests leave to challenge for command of Epsilon Brigade.”

   Nowak saw Colonel Nichole stir in her seat at that, but she said nothing.

   Wolf swept the room with his eyes.

   “Let us hear from the challenger,” he said.

   “Wait, General,” Nowak called out. All eyes turned to him.

   “As Director of the LCG, I must register my disapproval of your sanctioning the continuation of Clan practices prejudicial to the chain of command,” he stated firmly.

   “Noted,” Wolf replied, with a curt nod. “But this is considered an internal Dragoons matter.”

   “One which may end up affecting the material and combat readiness of the Dragoons. On those grounds, I am asking you to disallow this challenge.”

   In the silence that followed, Nowak surveyed the table. Most of the Dragoons were staring at him with deliberately blank faces, Chan’s infamous “stone face” standing out even here, but Jamison shook his head in disgust while Nichole’s face practically screamed “Stay off my side, you’re not helping”.

   “These Trials and Challenges are what keep us as combat ready as we are, Director. I will allow Major Tzu-West to make her case, and if warranted, allow the challenge.”

   “Then I must inform you, General Wolf, that I will be reporting your decision to higher authorities as soon as practicable,” Nowak responded formally.

   “Seyla,” Wolf intoned, his officers nodding. General Wolf turned to one of his aides. “Admit Major Tzu-West.”

   Once more, the doors opened, and in marched the major. Nowak noted that she’d remounted all her decorations on her dress uniform since they bumped into each other outside.

   The short MechWarrior moved precisely to the podium at the foot of the table, ignored her superior, Colonel Nichole, faced General Wolf and saluted.

   “General Wolf, Colonels, Major Emelia Tzu-West reporting as ordered,” she stated formally as Wolf stood to return her salute properly.

   “Major Tzu-West,” he intoned, still standing, “you have made a request to challenge for command of Epsilon Brigade. State your case.”

   It must have been intimidating to face such a collection of senior officers, but Tzu-West showed little sign of being intimidated. If anything, Nowak thought that anger was her primary emotion right now as she began to speak.

   “Aye, sir! General, Colonels, I do not call to Challenge lightly, but the evidence is clear that Epsilon Brigade needs new leadership. Colonel Nichole had proven unable to adapt to the needs of the present!”

   Beside the podium, Colonel Nichole openly scoffed while pointedly looking down the table at General Wolf instead of at Major Tzu-West.

   “Her tactics on Caph during the Six Months War led to a strategic loss for us, and her refusal to deviate from them since has cost Epsilon Brigade victories in recent training rotations against other Dragoons units,” continued Tzu-West as Nichole openly rolled her eyes.

   “Colonel Nichole’s persistence with failed methods has also caused Epsilon Brigade to be under-trained and underprepared in other, more viable tactics. The Colonel has refused to listen to the concerns of her senior officers –“

   “Bullshit,” drawled Nichole from her seat.

   “Colonel Nichole, you will have the chance to reply,” reminded General Wolf. “Carry on, Major.”

   “Yes, sir! The Colonel has refused to listen to the concerns of her senior officers, who have consequently lost confidence in her ability to command. Therefore, I demand the right to challenge for leadership of Epsilon Brigade in order to restore that confidence, sir!”

   Tzu-West stepped back from the podium.

   “Colonel Nichole?” Wolf asked quietly.

   Elizabeth Nichole stood and took the podium without looking at Major Tzu-West.

   “General Wolf, fellow Colonels,” all but snarled. “This pup believes she is ready to be a Pack Leader. Let us test that. I do not want this challenge denied. I welcome it!”
   Nichole saluted, stepped back, and spun to face Major Tzu-West for the first time. “Your funeral, Tzu,” she stage-whispered, deliberately leaving off the Honorname suffix as a calculated insult that Tzu-West clearly understood.

   Wolf nodded once. “Very well, the challenge is valid.”

   Nowak silently recited a strong Polish oath that his grandfather had reserved for especially exasperating situations.

   Colonel Chan stood. “General Wolf, since the issue at hand is the handling of Epsilon Brigade, I move that the Challenge take the form of a command exercise. Epsilon against my Gamma Brigade. We have not faced each other recently, so this will be fair. Both participants will lead Epsilon twice in simulated battle against Gamma Brigade – once each as attacker and defender. I ask Colonel Clavell to be Oathmaster and judge.”

   There were nods of agreement around the table, except from Nowak.

   “Seyla,” intoned Wolf formally.
   Nowak could tell his next report was going to be an extremely long one.

Title: Re: A Reckoning
Post by: Kyryst on 21 August 2020, 19:29:59

Honestly, the mech swap, then finding out you only own a mech chassis, and probably being charged to strip it when you take it into retirement is a massive d*** move. These are usually family mechs that have been in families for generations and have huge emotional attachment. I would have thought arranging for those machines to be shipped home would have been much easier to accomplish, then taking those machines would be. Usually the reason a family is mechwarriors or nobility is because of the possession of a mech. And it is in living memory of most people to have tech-scarcity. The thought that the government is going to take your property and leave you with a useless pile of metal, is enough for those families to revolt.

Repeat that across the entire federated commonwealth, and you don’t need external enemies, when you have so many internal ones. It is a reaction that the legacy you are leaving your children is taken away, that is what doing such things is facing. I completely understand what you are doing, simplified supply lines, ease of maintenance, removal of tools of war from people that aren’t the government. Add to that the increased government oversight that is coached in oh so reasonable terms, and to the people on the ground it becomes a power grab.

It just seems like the degree of difficulty involved in what you are describing is substantially under described. I mean, making the FC stronger, whoo-hoo! But when it happens at people’s direct expense, they are much less sanguine about it.

Terrifically well written, and drawing attention and emotion into what was written about. I very much appreciate reading what you write.

Title: Re: A Reckoning
Post by: alkemita on 21 August 2020, 21:59:47

Quote from: Kyryst on 21 August 2020, 19:29:59

Honestly, the mech swap, then finding out you only own a mech chassis, and probably being charged to strip it when you take it into retirement is a massive d*** move. These are usually family mechs that have been in families for generations and have huge emotional attachment. I would have thought arranging for those machines to be shipped home would have been much easier to accomplish, then taking those machines would be. Usually the reason a family is mechwarriors or nobility is because of the possession of a mech. And it is in living memory of most people to have tech-scarcity. The thought that the government is going to take your property and leave you with a useless pile of metal, is enough for those families to revolt.

*sigh* See, this is what happens when my update has gone through four drafts. I drop things by accident, and stuff gets lost in the shuffle.

Everything you're saying is a valid interpretation based on what actually got published - no question.

In-story, the way the process works is that the BattleMech owners exchange the family 'Mech for a factory-fresh model (where possible - some family owned 'mechs were captured from enemies). The weapons, engine and coolant systems are not included because when it comes time to roll out the "SLDF royal-level" upgrades, they don't want to waste time haggling over compensatory prices, or deal with maintenance quirks caused by the owners tinkering with their 'Mechs.

There was supposed to be a bit in there about how the AFFC would allow retiring MechWarriors to gain ownership of the 'Mech's last configuration when they muster out, so they're still in possession of a functional machine when they leave.

Quote

Terrifically well written, and drawing attention and emotion into what was written about. I very much appreciate reading what you write.

Thank you for coming along for the ride!

Title: Re: A Reckoning
Post by: worktroll on 21 August 2020, 22:09:07

Was a good update  :thumbsup:

Title: Re: A Reckoning
Post by: alkemita on 22 August 2020, 09:26:53

Okay, I went back to the oral history update and dropped in a clear reference about MechWarriors with family-owned 'Mechs getting to keep all components on the 'Mech at the time they mustered out.

Title: Re: A Reckoning
Post by: Kyryst on 22 August 2020, 10:24:14

Yeah. I can tell. This forum hates apostrophes and specialized letters when you edit. Thanks for clearing that up, though.

EDIT: Looks good.  :thumbsup:

Title: Re: A Reckoning
Post by: alkemita on 22 August 2020, 12:02:59

Quote from: Kyryst on 22 August 2020, 10:24:14

Yeah. I can tell. This forum hates apostrophes and specialized letters when you edit. Thanks for clearing that up, though.

Shoot - didn't even notice what a mess that made when I went back in. Should all be fixed now - what a pain.

Title: Re: A Reckoning
Post by: mikecj on 22 August 2020, 13:44:28

Nice.  Good replacement plan.  can't wait to see how the challenge goes.

Title: Re: A Reckoning
Post by: alkemita on 23 August 2020, 08:02:04

Quote from: mikecj on 22 August 2020, 13:44:28

Nice.  Good replacement plan.  can't wait to see how the challenge goes.

Yeah, the replacement plan was why this update took so long to come out. I've kind of painted myself into a corner by going slightly more realistic, and when I found out that officially the entire Fedcom only has 70-odd factories that build BT stuff, I had to rework everything - and in the end I used an unobtanium cheat with the PCMs to raise production rates to the point where they could turn out hundreds of 'Mechs, tanks, fighters, etc, while also building stockpiles of clan-grade components and weapons.

Title: Re: A Reckoning
Post by: Sir Chaos on 23 August 2020, 08:10:40

Am I getting this correctly... they´re replacing all old equipment with new equipment, all of which is basically Succession Wars era technology except for being sort of proto-Omni tech. And while increasing readiness rates and making repairs faster and easier, the point of the entire operation is to prepare the field for the switch to SL/3050 era tech, or even Clan tech, once they have enough of it - because now the process is as easy (or nearly so) as swapping pods on an Omni, so refitting a combat unit is a matter of hours, rather than weeks or months.

Title: Re: A Reckoning
Post by: alkemita on 23 August 2020, 09:33:00

Quote from: Sir Chaos on 23 August 2020, 08:10:40

Am I getting this correctly... they´re replacing all old equipment with new equipment, all of which is basically Succession Wars era technology except for being sort of proto-Omni tech. And while increasing readiness rates and making repairs faster and easier, the point of the entire operation is to prepare the field for the switch to SL/3050 era tech, or even Clan tech, once they have enough of it - because now the process is as easy (or nearly so) as swapping pods on an Omni, so refitting a combat unit is a matter of hours, rather than weeks or months.

Basically all correct Sir Chaos - they're bringing all their forces to common baselines after centuries of patchworking and jury-rigging, which will allow them to cut down the number of different upgrade kits they need to produce.

The ideal is to leap over SL tech and go straight to Clan-tech with the upgrade kits, but, as mentioned in a previous update, they don't have the complete suite of Clan-level tech, especially autocannons. So some SL tech will still be in the mix.

Refitting an RCT is probably going to take about a week - the bottleneck is the number of industrial exoskeletons and other heavy lifting equipment available to the unit.

But yes, the AFFC is on track to become the most formidable military in the human sphere since the SLDF.

Of course, not everyone is going to like this, or take it lying down.

Title: Re: A Reckoning
Post by: alkemita on 12 September 2021, 15:09:55

AN: What a year it's been, but A Reckoning is still barely alive....

---

Hall of the Khans, Strana Mechty
Clan Homeworlds
August 09, 3039

Despite the occasion, Dechan Fraser found himself distracted by the itching wound on his left arm.

A last souvenir from ex-Galaxy Commander Lionel McKibben. The disgraced warrior had marked him with half a dozen cuts from a MechWarrior’s survival knife during their Trial of Grievance. All but the two on his arm had been superficial. Mainly, Fraser reflected that they’d just proven once again the old combat adage – the winner of a knife fight goes to medical.

Honestly, Fraser hadn’t expected to win the duel as quickly as he had.

As with everything surrounding his adoption into Clan Wolf, the arrangements for the Trial had been scrupulously correct.

Both combatants had been given time to heal (McKibben had not gone willingly into detention and paid for it). As the challenged party, McKibben had the choice of weapons, so Fraser had prepared himself for another BattleMech duel. Since McKibben normally piloted an assault-class Kingfisher OmniMech, Fraser had been practising with ‘Mechs of a similar mass.

But McKibben surprised everyone by choosing survival knives. Cyrilla Ward had opined that perhaps McKibben wanted the kill to be up close and personal.

In the end, it was, but the kill was Fraser’s. McKibben had come straight for him in a berserker rage – “Very un-Wolf like,” according to saKhan Mehta afterwards.

Fraser had barely managed to remain composed, but it had been enough. After wearing some slashes from his opponent, he’d closed in, parried McKibben’s slashes at the cost of deep cuts to his left forearm and hand before stunning the older (by a single year) man with a headbutt that would have been par for the course in a TempTown bar back on Outreach, and burying his own knife in McKibben’s chest.

The whole thing had lasted barely fifteen seconds.

Now, after another couple of days, he was preparing for another fight – but it would be a political one, something he had little experience of.

Dragoons discipline and esprit-de-corps meant that unlike some other mercenary commands (or some House units, to be honest), Fraser had never had to deal with factionalism and powerplays in his unit. Beyond personality and ego clashes, the most serious thing he’d ever encountered was one of his MechWarriors and a Tech coming to blows over the last cup of coffee in a DropShip galley during an over-long trip.

But now, he was about to enter the highest political arena in the Clans – the Hall of the Khans. He fervently hoped he would merely be a supporting act.

“Try not to do that in the Hall,” Cyrilla Ward told him, pointing at his fussing over the bandage on the back of his hand.

The two of them, plus Natasha Kerensky, were seated in saKhan Mehta’s office in the Hall of Khans complex. It was one of forty such offices located in a wing of the Hall, one for each Khan of the (originally) 20 Clans.

A screen on the wall showed the interior of the Hall, but there was no audio.

For the past few minutes, fantastically robed Khans had been making their way to benches set on three tiers of risers facing an open floor backed by what resembled a Judicial bench.

“Ulric and Laurel just came in,” Kerensky observed, drawing their collective attention back to the screen.

Ulric Kerensky allowed himself a moment to look around the chamber after sitting behind the left side of the bench allotted to Clan Wolf. The allocations were randomly assigned for each session of the Grand Kultarai– the Clans’ Grand Council. Today, Clan Wolf’s Khans found themselves right-of-centre on the middle tier.

Like every Khan attending, Ulric was dressed in the ceremonial uniform of his Clan. In his case, leather encased him from throat to boot tops, dyed to match the typical colourings of a Strana Mechty wolf. Leather gauntlets and boots had stitching done to suggest paws and claws. A knee length cape of real wolf fur was fastened to his shoulders with stylised wolf’s head clasps.

On his head he wore a helm in the shape of a wolf’s head. His eyes peered out through the eye holes in the mask – his features were otherwise concealed.

Seventeen banners bearing the colours and symbols of each extant Clan hung from the back wall of the chamber, behind the Khans’ seating. There were gaps in the spacing where three more banners had once hung – those of the fallen Clans.

Fifteen of the twenty double benches were now occupied. To Ulric’s right, the Khans of Hell’s Horses, whose ceremonial masks boasted magnificent horse-hair manes, were just getting seated. The bench immediately behind them, on the next tier, was occupied by Clan Goliath Scorpion, while to the left, the Khans of Clan Diamond Shark brooded, seemingly determined to ignore each other.

So, the Watch was right, Ulric thought to himself, Khan Lucas Hammond has fallen out with saKhan Viktor Kalasa. He filed that tidbit away in his mind as he continued his survey.

Although the Clans were joint descendants of the exiled Star League Defence Force, they operated independently as a matter of course. Months or years might go by without any one particular Clan interacting with (or conducting a Combat Trial against) any other given Clan. Under the circumstances, Ulric was glad that Clan Wolf paid more attention to its intelligence gathering arm than many of the other Clans – although, he had come to realise from the data Natasha had brought back with her, that increased attention still did not come anywhere close to the resources the smallest state in the Inner Sphere lavished on their own intelligence services. Yet another shortcoming they would have to overcome.

Ulric finished his survey of the chamber and glanced over at Laurel Mehta. It was her first time in the chamber, and she was using the tablet built into her bench top to match names and seats. No doubt she was also classifying threats at the same time, Ulric mused. There were few true alliances amongst the Clans, but plenty of long-lasting feuds.
Ulric let out a well concealed sigh, and turned his attention to his tablet, where his presentation was summarised.

The unofficial mantra of Clan Wolf was “Preparation, Patience, Savagery.” Ulric considered that he had prepared as well as he could. He only had to be patient for a few more minutes, and then he would unleash savagery on the Crusader cause.

The doors opened once more to admit the Khans of Clan Ghost Bear, who took their seats on the extreme left of the first tier.

Sixteen of the seventeen Clans were now represented. The chronometer on Ulric’s tablet showed just two minutes until the session commenced, and –

“It seems that not even our news was enough to bring the Blood Spirits out of hiding,” Laurel Mehta observed sotto voce.

But then the doors opened once more, and two figures, clad head to toe in blood-red garments overlaid with blood-red cloaks strode into the chamber. Since Clan Blood Spirit were named for the esprit de corps that the Great Father wanted his Clans to exhibit, the Blood Spirits had no totem animal to fashion masks after. Instead, plain, blood-red glass masks in the shape of an inverted drop of blood emerged from the cowls of their cloaks. The overall effect made the Khans of Clan Blood Spirit look like wraiths.

This was the first Grand Kultarai that Clan Blood Spirit had attended in person in almost fifty years, and murmurings broke out in the chamber as they made their way up to the last tier of benches and sat between a pair of empty benches – coincidentally reflecting their isolationist nature.

Just as the Blood Spirit Khans sat down, a double chime sounded in the chamber, repeating three times.

Ulric and Laurel tore their gazes away from the Blood Spirit Khans as the chamber doors opened once more, admitting the person who would preside over the Grand Council.
In the absence of an ilKhan chosen from amongst the body of Khans, the senior Loremaster amongst all the Clans would run proceedings. Loremaster Rodney Siegel, an AeroSpace pilot of Clan Snow Raven, marched into the chamber, preceded by an honour guard Point of five battle-suited Elementals of the Ebon Keshik – the Hall of Khan’s dedicated security force composed of respected, un-Bloodnamed Elementals from all the Clans.

Two of the black-clad armoured infantry took post either side of the doors, two more peeled off to stations at the back corners of the room, while the last – the Keshik’s commander, Star Colonel Gherman, followed Loremaster Siegel to the elevated chair that faced all the Khans, and took up a guard position behind and to his left as the physically diminutive Loremaster took his seat. In appearance, he wore the same white ceremonial uniform as the Snow Raven Khans, including the raven-feather cape, but without the helmet.

Once he was seated, he picked up the gavel at his bench and struck it against the black Strana Mechty marble surface.

“We are in session. Let all abide by the outcome of this Grand Kurultai until we are but dust and memories.”

“Seyla,” chanted the assembled Khans in unison, their voices slightly muffled by their masks.

“My Khans, I remind you at we exist in a state of War,” Siegel continued with the opening ritual. “All our proceedings will be conducted according to the Martial Code.”

“Seyla,” replied the Khans again.

Siegel nodded, making a notation on his own tablet before looking up again.

“Khan Ulric Kerensky of the Wolves. You requested this Grand Council in order to, and I quote – ‘present an updated report from the Wolf’s Dragoons Reconnaissance Force and consider the implications for the liberation of the Inner Sphere.’ Khan Kerensky, you have the floor to present your report.”

Ulric stood, removing his helmet as he did so. But before he could speak, a figure on his left also stood, similarly removing his own Jaguar’s head mask to reveal the scowling visage of Khan Leo Showers of Clan Smoke Jaguar. His Clan were the leading member of the pro-Invasion Crusader faction of the Clans, which made them rivals with Clan Wolf, the leaders of the opposing Warden faction. If that were not enough, Leo Showers had a personal hate for Ulric that went back over a decade.

“Loremaster Siegel!” the senior Khan of the Smoke Jaguars barked, although his glare remained fixed on Ulric Kerensky. “I must demand that Khan Kerensky be censured for calling a Grand Kurultaiwithout legitimate cause! This is merely a Warden delaying tactic meant to cloud the waters and obscure the true way of the Great Father! If he truly had new data from the almost-useless Reconnaissance Force, he should have appended it to the summons so that we could all study it prior to this gathering!”

“You are out of order, Khan Leo Showers,” replied Loremaster Siegel. “We will let the legitimacy of Khan Kerensky’s call rest on his presentation. You will know what to do if you deem his reasons deficient, quiaff?”

Leo Showers did not reply, but merely replaced his mask before sitting down.

“Khan Kerensky, as you were,” the Loremaster said next.

“Thank you, Loremaster,” Ulric replied, before leaving his bench and marching down to the open space between the Khans’ seating and the Loremaster’s platform.

Stopping in the exact centre of the space, he turned to face his peers and settled into a parade rest posture.

Then, he did absolutely nothing for a long three count. Long enough to get his fellow Khans to focus on him, not long enough for them to think he was playing psychological tricks – which he was.

“My fellow Khans, trothkin,” he began, pitching his voice to be calm and slightly quieter than normal. It wouldn’t matter because the acoustics of the room, as well as hidden microphones, made sure even the Blood Spirit Khans at the back would hear him clearly.

“On the twenty-fifth of May, a JumpShip of the Clan Wolf Watch returned to the homeworlds. It was carrying a multi-exabyte database containing updated military, political and cultural information about the Inner Sphere.”

From the floor, Ulric could see most of the Khans stir in their seats.

“This database is far more detailed than their previous reports. In fact, in covering documents appended to the database, Star Colonel Jaime, commander of the Reconnaissance Force, reports that he considers their original mission substantially complete. We now have a comprehensive picture of conditions in the Inner Sphere and much of the surrounding Periphery states.”

There was an outburst of noise from the Khans. Several stood and doffed their masks, clamouring to be recognised.

“Order! We will be in order, my Khans!” shouted Loremaster Siegel over the tumult of voices. He had to repeat his instruction before getting what he wanted.

Once all was silent once more, and the last of the standing Khans reluctantly returned to their seats, Siegel himself stood.

“My Khans – remember where you are and who you are. I recognise that this is momentous news we are receiving, but that does not give us licence to discard propriety. We will allow Khan Kerensky to finish his presentation, as is his right, before we move to debate.” Siegel now posted himself on his arms as he leaned forward. “I will not hesitate to censure any who break the rules of this Grand Council.” He paused as if daring the Khans, who technically all outranked him, to challenge him. Given that Siegel came from a Clan where internal politicking was as bloody an endeavour as any physical battlefield, the man very likely knew exactly how far he could push things with this august gathering.

“Khan Kerensky, please continue,” Siegel finished, in a milder tone.

Ulric nodded his thanks.

“As I was saying, the Dragoons report their original mission to be complete. It has been a costly campaign. Besides the database and associated physical samples, they also sent back the cremains and gifttakes of over four hundred of their fallen trothkin, escorted by the senior living Bloodnamed warrior in the Dragoons, Star Colonel Natasha Kerensky.”

The air in the room seemed to go still. Ulric was unsure whether it was due to the mention of the human cost, or Natasha’s name that had done it. But if they thought that was the last surprise he had for them, they had another thing coming.

Ulric briefly locked eyes with Laurel Mehta. She gave him a barely perceptible nod. They did not agree on much, but in the end they were of the same Pack, and they would stand together.

Ulric raised his chin and proceeded.

“Star Colonel Kerensky was also tasked to deliver a message from Star Colonel Jaime to the Khans of the Clans. After watching this message, I believe you will understand why I did not send out the database beforehand.”

With that said, Ulric walked away from the centre of the floor to stand by the steps leading up to the Loremaster’s chair.

As he did so, the lights in the chamber dimmed by half and there was a shimmer in the middle of the floor where a concealed holotank activated.

The image that formed showed Jamie Wolf at double life-size, dressed in the uniform of a Clan Wolf MechWarrior. Whatever location the recording had been made at had been deleted from the background of the hologram, leaving no distractions from the man and his message.

The image hung in the air for a split-second, and then began to play.

“Khans of the Clans, I, Star Colonel Jamie, Commander of the Wolf’s Dragoons Reconnaissance Force, send you greetings from the Inner Sphere.

“As of the day I am recording this message, it has been over thirty-three years since my command arrived in the Inner Sphere to begin the mission your predecessors entrusted to us.

“A complete record of our mission is available in the database that accompanies this message, but, in summary: Wolf’s Dragoons has taken contracts with every Successor State. We have fought for and against every one of them, and, occasionally, against some of the Periphery States as well. I believe the record will support my assertion that we have brought honour to ourselves, our Clans of origin and our trainers. As for individual warriors, a complete copy of their Codices has also been included. I trust that you will recognise any outstanding feats appropriately.”

That last sentence was going to mean a lot of work for individual Clan Loremasters and their staffs, Ulric knew.

“My Khans, in the course of our mission, we have learned much about how the Inner Sphere functions. As we are tasked with providing you with accurate intelligence, we have carefully researched what I am about to tell you”.

And so it begins… Ulric thought, having seen this message already – several times, in fact, in the privacy of his office.

“Firstly, the Inner Sphere is not on the verge of collapse.”

A muffled chorus of groans and incredulous noises arose from the Khans. Oblivious to this reaction, Wolf’s hologram continued speaking.

“It is true that the Succession wars were devastating, and hundreds of once viable planets were rendered incapable of supporting life, but the remainder have reached equilibrium and some states have begun to recover. There is no shortage of worlds here where life is difficult, but that was also the case in the Homeworlds when I left.
“Their military strength is also considerable. Although the Dragoons have had an extremely successful combat history over the past three decades, at no point could we ever claim to be completely invincible.

“Secondly, and related to the first point, the various Successor States are generally stable entities and not liable to collapse in the short to medium term.”

More groans and noises from the Khans.

“Again, I would refer you to our database for a more nuanced and detailed analysis of specific states, but it is our assessment that average Spheroids are highly unlikely to greet Clan warriors as liberators from oppressive overlords.”

Jamie Wolf’s image suddenly froze as disbelieving shouts arose from the Khans.

“My Khans!” exclaimed Loremaster Siegel as he pounded his gavel, “We will have order!”

And remarkably, there was, perhaps because the assembly remembered the Loremaster’s previous warning. But just in case they did not, Siegel continued, “This is my final warning. The next participant to disrupt this Grand Council will face a vote of censure.”

Siegel sat, and Wolf’s hologram image resumed talking.

“That means we can expect no ready help from local officials if we were to invade. We would have to make substantial use of Provisional Garrison Clusters to maintain internal order on the worlds we do take.”

The hologram of Jaime Wolf shrunk down to life-size and shifted over to the right as a massive map of the Inner Sphere and near-Periphery states bloomed into existence, with discrete labels and symbology attached.

“At the risk of becoming repetitive, full details to support what I am about to say is on the database. This map is current as of my recording date. There will most likely be some border and unit strength changes by the time you get this, but it is extremely unlikely that they will substantially change the calculus.”

Hundreds of symbols, to small to read at this scale, flared to life across the length and breadth of the map. Even without further elaboration, even the newest cadet could tell that the new symbols marked the locations of military units, given their concentrations on hostile borders and around critical worlds.

“My Khans, I present the military forces of the Inner Sphere – their toumans, if you will. Their complete battle records, equivalents of our codices, are similarly available to you now.”

In demonstration, a box formed around the Rasalhague-Draconis Combine border portion of the map, which then popped out as a new window and enlarged to cover most of the original map. The Khans could now see military symbology, little changed for nearly a thousand years, representing the units there. One of the symbols on the Draconian side of the border flashed once, then itself expanded into a new window, with data trails of information dropping from the symbol itself to indicate that this was the “2nd Alshain Regulars” together with headings for their history, composition, tactics and personnel. The information was colour-coded per Clan (actually, SLDF) standard according to reliability.

The new windows vanished back into the main map as Wolf continued speaking.

“One cannot escape the fact that the Inner Sphere is several orders of magnitude larger than our Homeworlds by any conceivable measure.”

The map vanished, placed by an infographic that contrasted the number of worlds, population and military forces available to both the Inner Sphere and the Clans (the latter data footnoted by Wolf to be an estimate from his people since they had no information on the Homeworlds past 3018 or so. Ulric had had his staff check the figures and they agreed that Jaime Wolf’s number were close enough to reality to use).

In every area except WarShips, the red lines representing the Inner Sphere and Periphery dwarfed the blue ones representing the Clans.

“Clearly, there is more to relative strength than raw numbers,” Wolf went on as some of the bars shrank and others grew. “When we correct for the standard factors, including, but not limited to training, motivation and technological disparity, this is how the Correlation of Forces changes.”

The new bars were closer together – but still overwhelmingly in favour of the Inner Sphere.

“My Khans, unless the Clans as a whole have somehow managed to increase the fighting strength of our toumans by at least two orders of magnitude – and acquired the logistics network to support such a force over the distance of a thousand light years, I am forced to conclude that it is impossible for the Clans to conquer the entire Inner Sphere.”

There was an audible thump in the Grand Council chamber as some Khan pounded their bench top in anger or frustration.

“However,” Wolf continued, “suppose we do not aim to conquer the entire Inner Sphere – merely the territory once held by the Terran Hegemony.”

A smaller map of the Inner Sphere reappeared alongside the bar graphs, with the borders of the old Terran Hegemony highlighted.

“This would still put us in conflict with all the major Successor States. We have also assumed the need to take a corridor of worlds in order to supply a secure logistics chain back to the Homeworlds.”

The bars shifted once more, and again in favour of the Clans, but not enough.

Now Wolf’s hologram grew back to its original twice-life-size stature, the map and graphics shrinking but not disappearing.

“So, my Khans, what then?” Wolf asked, his arms coming out from behind his back to punctuate his words. “If we invade with the collected toumans of the Clans, I have no doubt that many warriors would win unparalleled glory. I have no doubt we will win many victories against the forces of the so-called ‘Scavanger Lords’. We will drive armies before us, conquer worlds rich in resources beyond imagining, add many verses to the Remembrance.

“But, in the end, we will fail in our objective.” And Wolf’s arms collapsed to his side as he let the sentence hang in the Great Council Chamber.

“This is a hard thing to say, my Khans,” Jaime Wolf began again, his voice quieter than before. “But the charge laid on my command – the Dragoons Reconnaissance Force – was to bring back a true picture of the Inner Sphere. This we have done.”

Wolf paused again, and Ulric could see his fellow Khans struggle with their thoughts, even through their masks. He saw a stylus snap between Leo Showers’ fingers.

In the Hologram, Jaime Wolf lowered his eyes for the first time, before resuming his previous stance.

“My Khans, I have entrusted this report to Star Colonel Natasha Kerensky – the senior living Bloodnamed Trueborn officer remaining to my command – so that you will have her words and impressions to back up my report. I have also sent with her a small party of experts on the Inner Sphere to assist in the interpretation of the database.

“I have done this, rather than returning to the Homeworlds myself, because in compiling this true picture of the Inner Sphere, we have also uncovered the truth about why conditions in the Inner Sphere remain so far behind where they were at the fall of the Star League, almost two hundred and fifty years later.

“It is true that the Successor States must bear a large share of the responsibility for the backsliding that has occurred since the fall of the Star League, but not all of the blame belongs to them.”

Over Wolf’s shoulder, a new image appeared – A brilliant white comet shape pointing upwards concentric ellipses surrounding the head, and twin tails trailing down, one slightly longer than the other.

“In previous reports to the Grand Council, we have mentioned the existence of ComStar, the successor organisation to the Star League Ministry of Communications. Publicly, it remains the last vestige of the Star league, responsible for maintaining and controlling the HPG network.

“We have now discovered that at least some factions within ComStar’s leadership are actively working to ****** the recovery of knowledge in the Inner Sphere and Periphery States. They do not discriminate between military and non-military knowledge.

They have sabotaged research projects, destroyed laboratories and factories. They have also  assassinated scientists, doctors, engineers and techs - a great waste of life and resources.

"The net result of their efforts is that life is harder here than it needs to be.
 
Their long-term goal is to leverage their monopoly on both interstellar FTL communications and advanced technology to ultimately rule the Inner Sphere.”

Wolf paused for a moment, and Ulric knew why. Jaime Wolf was giving the Khans the time to process the implications of his last statement.

The only government that could every have claimed to rule a super-majority of humanity in the interstellar age was the Star League. The same Star League that the Clans claimed descent from, and the same Star League upon which the Crusader Clans based their claim of right to conquer the Inner Sphere. For ComStar to seek the same ends was outrageous, if not a bald-faced blasphemy.

Ulric could see most of the Khans shifting in their seats as Wolf picked up the narrative again.

“Due to their control of interstellar communications, no government in the Inner Sphere can hope to stand against ComStar successfully. Some have previously tried and failed.”

Jaime Wolf drew himself up.

“My Khans, the Great Father took the Star League Defence Force into exile in order to ensure it could not be used to support baseless claims to the throne of the Star League.

“The Star League Defence Force was created to be a force for good – for combatting those threats that no one else could. I contend that the evidence shows that ComStar represents an existentialist threat to humanity, and that only the Clans of Kerensky combined have the means to end this threat.”

Wolf’s hologram paused again, as if anticipating an outburst from his audience, but there was only silence. Ulric surmised that most of his peers were still processing his words.

Star Colonel Jaime had not given either the Wardens or Crusaders exactly what they had hoped for.

“If the Clans do this,” Wolf continued, “we will position ourselves as the Star League Defence Force reborn in the eyes of the Inner Sphere – perhaps more so amongst the commoners than the nobles, but that is a start. In addition, since ComStar controls Terra itself, the ilClan-ship is still a valid prize.

“My staff and I have put together a number of operational plans for destroying ComStar. You will have to decide on one, or craft your own, but it bears repeating that even this more focused goal will require almost all of your toumans.

“We have an advantage: ComStar remains unaware of our origins, although they must have suspicions. It will take you some time to assemble the forces you will need to defeat ComStar and take Terra. I urge you to use this time wisely.

“I will be preparing my own forces, as well as those of some trustworthy allies, to take the battle to ComStar – they are simply too dangerous to allow us to let them live. It would be greatly helpful if the Clans of Kerensky were to join in this effort, but I feel I must carry out my side of the plan even if you do not come.”

Wolf drew himself up to attention.

“Unless I receive direct orders from the Grand Council countermanding my decision, I intend to launch Operation SAMSON on the fifteenth of June, 3045.

“I look forward to hearing that you are coming to fulfill the mission of the Star League Defence Force.”

And with that, Wolf’s hologram faded from view.

There was a long moment of silence, and then Loremaster Siegel was besieged by the clamour of almost three dozen Khans demanding the floor.

Title: Re: A Reckoning
Post by: paulobrito on 12 September 2021, 15:32:41

Interesting alternative.

Title: Re: A Reckoning
Post by: Daryk on 12 September 2021, 16:31:48

 :o :o :o :o :o :o :o :o :o :o :o :o :o :o :o :o

I figure that's enough to cover all the khans that haven't seen the message before...

"Interesting" doesn't even begin to cover it!  :thumbsup:

Title: Re: A Reckoning
Post by: alkemita on 12 September 2021, 17:56:23

Quote from: paulobrito on 12 September 2021, 15:32:41

Interesting alternative.

For a given definition of "interesting", yes. I always wondered why the Clans didn't take Terra first, then strike outwards.

Title: Re: A Reckoning
Post by: alkemita on 12 September 2021, 17:58:05

Quote from: Daryk on 12 September 2021, 16:31:48

:o :o :o :o :o :o :o :o :o :o :o :o :o :o :o :o

I figure that's enough to cover all the khans that haven't seen the message before...

"Interesting" doesn't even begin to cover it!  :thumbsup:

By my count, you need another 8 stunned faces, but it fits if you're doing one face per Clan.

Title: Re: A Reckoning
Post by: Daryk on 12 September 2021, 18:13:49

That was my plan, yes...  8)

Title: Re: A Reckoning
Post by: Sir Chaos on 13 September 2021, 10:27:52

 :o :o :o :o :o :o :o :o :o :o :o :o :o :o :o :o

This was an interesting timeline to begin with... now it´s on an entirely new level.

Title: Re: A Reckoning
Post by: Cannonshop on 13 September 2021, 10:33:27

OH sublime!!   :clap:

Title: Re: A Reckoning
Post by: misterpants on 13 September 2021, 14:29:09

The best thing about Comstar is, no matter what you do to them you don't feel bad

Title: Re: A Reckoning
Post by: Daryk on 13 September 2021, 17:32:49

:toofunny:

Title: Re: A Reckoning
Post by: alkemita on 13 September 2021, 17:37:18

Quote from: Sir Chaos on 13 September 2021, 10:27:52

:o :o :o :o :o :o :o :o :o :o :o :o :o :o :o :o

This was an interesting timeline to begin with... now it´s on an entirely new level.

Thank you for the praise. I hope to continue to raise the bar as I go.

Title: Re: A Reckoning
Post by: alkemita on 13 September 2021, 17:38:07

Quote from: Cannonshop on 13 September 2021, 10:33:27

OH sublime!!   :clap:

My writing's been called lots of things before, but "Sublime" is a new one for me. Thank you!

Title: Re: A Reckoning
Post by: alkemita on 13 September 2021, 17:40:22

Quote from: misterpants on 13 September 2021, 14:29:09

The best thing about Comstar is, no matter what you do to them you don't feel bad

They're nice as a straw villain, yes. It's actually one of my pet peeves with my original outline for this story (created way back in 2016) that I don't have a strong viewpoint inside Comstar, and I'm still kinda stumped as to how I do it because I think Act III will be stronger if I do.

Title: Re: A Reckoning
Post by: Daryk on 13 September 2021, 17:42:00

Concur with your Act III point... best of luck finding that voice!  :thumbsup:

Title: Re: A Reckoning
Post by: ThePW on 14 September 2021, 11:55:42

So long before O:S?

an excellent update!

Title: Re: A Reckoning
Post by: alkemita on 14 September 2021, 14:31:41

Quote from: ThePW on 14 September 2021, 11:55:42

So long before O:S?

There's the logistics to consider, plus the travel time between the Clan Homeworlds and the Inner Sphere, not to mention trying to get all the Clans to work together.

Title: Re: A Reckoning
Post by: misterpants on 14 September 2021, 21:13:09

Quote from: ThePW on 14 September 2021, 11:55:42

So long before O:S?

In the original timeline it took less than 2 years (Outbound Light stumbled onto Huntress in September 3048, Wave 1 of Operation Revival kicked off March 3050) of trials, preparation, and transit, and that could have gone better for the Clans.

That being said, even just under 6 years of lead time feels...optimistic for what Jaime expects the Clans to be able to pull together.

Title: Re: A Reckoning
Post by: Red Pins on 14 September 2021, 21:32:56

Quote from: Kyryst on 22 August 2020, 10:24:14

Yeah. I can tell. This forum hates apostrophes and specialized letters when you edit. Thanks for clearing that up, though.

EDIT: Looks good.  :thumbsup:

You're using the Canadian option for your keyboard, I think.  I have a small box on the bottom of my screen on the toolbar that says, "ENG Canada, US keyboard".  When it gets clicked it offers, "ENG Canada, Canadian Multilingual Stand", and I get the funky letters instead of apostrophes.  For example, ' or è.

Title: Re: A Reckoning
Post by: Cannonshop on 14 September 2021, 21:33:15

Quote from: alkemita on 14 September 2021, 14:31:41

There's the logistics to consider, plus the travel time between the Clan Homeworlds and the Inner Sphere, not to mention trying to get all the Clans to work together.

which may actually be EASIER this time, Kerlin and Ulric were both vocal, ardent wardens, and the Dragoons were mainly drawn from warden freebirths, if the damn wardens are suddenly getting on board with the Crusade after seeing the state of the Inner Sphere, it's a lot harder to hang on to those old arguments, and a lot easier to realign with the Crusader Cause, because the situation presents a moral reason to go, something that the previous argument notably lacked.

It also presents a single, unified enemy to strike, one that is unquestionably 'evil', which makes it easier to overcome rivalries and internal conflicts because it changes the context of the debate.

which doesn't entirely STOP the internal arguments, but it does make them less compelling and makes it easier to solve or suppress them.

Title: Re: A Reckoning
Post by: alkemita on 15 September 2021, 18:26:02

Quote from: misterpants on 14 September 2021, 21:13:09

In the original timeline it took less than 2 years (Outbound Light stumbled onto Huntress in September 3048, Wave 1 of Operation Revival kicked off March 3050) of trials, preparation, and transit, and that could have gone better for the Clans.

That being said, even just under 6 years of lead time feels...optimistic for what Jaime expects the Clans to be able to pull together.

The question being asked of the Clans is certainly more complex this time - in the OTL, it was a straight choice between invading or not.

What Jaime is proposing is somewhere in between, and requires the Clans to answer several supporting, but important questions - for instance, do you coordinate with Jaime's end of the plan? If the answer is yes, how do you go about it, given the roughly 1 year time comms lag between the forces involved.

That's just one example, I'm sure everyone can easily come up with others.

Title: Re: A Reckoning
Post by: alkemita on 15 September 2021, 18:30:36

Edit: Nevermind - I misunderstood your post and I don't know how to delete this.

Title: Re: A Reckoning
Post by: Daryk on 15 September 2021, 20:07:17

Only mods can actually delete posts, but that works well enough.

Title: Re: A Reckoning
Post by: wolfgar on 18 September 2021, 18:21:01

i like this, can we have more please

to acknowledge, i just binged this in an afternoon

Title: Re: A Reckoning
Post by: ckosacranoid on 22 September 2021, 19:16:10

We are Clan Comstar. We are calling a trail to increase your prices for our service as the phone company. With what forces do you defend against the price increase?

Title: Re: A Reckoning
Post by: alkemita on 23 September 2021, 18:32:43

Quote from: wolfgar on 18 September 2021, 18:21:01

i like this, can we have more please

to acknowledge, i just binged this in an afternoon

Thanks Wolfgar! I'm working around other commitments, including a non -BT script that needs to take priority, but I want to get A Reckoning finished too. In fact, at this stage I have more of Act III written than I have of the remainder of Act II

Title: Re: A Reckoning
Post by: mikecj on 29 September 2021, 17:34:02

Nice.  Sampson should be fun!

Title: Re: A Reckoning
Post by: alkemita on 30 September 2021, 22:32:14

Quote from: mikecj on 29 September 2021, 17:34:02

Nice.  Sampson should be fun!

You have an interesting definition of fun...  ;)

Title: Re: A Reckoning
Post by: alkemita on 13 February 2022, 09:45:12

AN: Okay, lets try things this way - smaller chunks of story. Maybe I'll be able to post more frequently this way. Maybe...

---

Headquarters of the Khans of Clan Wolf
Andreygrad, Strana Mechty
Clan Homeworlds
August 17, 3039

Cyrilla Ward came to attention and saluted as Ulric Kerensky and Laurel Mehta entered the antechamber-slash-waiting room that served both their private offices. Beside her, Natasha Kerensky also saluted – more sloppily, but still within acceptable bounds.

Ulric returned their salutes and beckoned for them to follow while he opened the door to his office.

Once the door was closed, Ulric allowed himself to fall into the high-backed chair behind his desk, running his hands over his face as he did so.

Cyrilla had never seen him so tired, including after that time they’d fought a fifty-five hour Trial against a wily Hell’s Horses Star Colonel who’d made excellent use to terrain to drag things out and wear down his Wolf opponents.

Laurel Mehta looked just as bad, slumped in her own chair to Ulric’s right.

“Forgive my bluntness, O great Khans,” Natasha started before Cyrilla could say anything, “but the two of you look like shit.” She punctuated her words by placing a standard-issue small insulated duffel bag on the desk.

“Here,” she continued, opening the duffel and extracting a clear bottle filled with a green liquid. Four shot glasses followed, and shortly thereafter, each of them had a filled glass in their hand.

Cyrilla sniffed hers cautiously – it was unfamiliar but not unpleasant, and definitely strong.

“Your health,” Natasha toasted, before throwing the drink down her throat.

The others followed suit. It was surprisingly good.

“Excellent,” Ulric proclaimed. “You anticipated our needs well, Natasha. Are you bidding for a posting as my aide quiaff?”

Natasha snorted. “Neg. Jaime always needed a drink after long meetings, and you two have had more than your share recently.”

“True enough,” Ulric conceded, picking up the bottle and examining it. Noticing a crest worked imprinted into the glass he raised an eyebrow.

“A Diamond Shark vintage? Have you been conducting Trials of Possession that I am unaware of, Star Colonel?"

"Neg, Ulric,” Natasha barked a laugh. “One of our own merchants that Star Captain Dechan is acquainted with obtained these through trade dealings. Since you’ve- you have - kicked over so many burrock hives in the past two weeks, I thought you could use it, so Dechan and I traded stories about the Inner Sphere to get this.”

“A warrior making trade deals…” saKhan Mehta shook her head, but she looked disappointed rather than disgusted, which Cyrilla was sure would have been her default reaction just a few months ago.

“Well, saKhan, your predecessors did send me into the Sphere disguised as a mercenary.”

Cyrilla decided to jump in before Natasha could derail things entirely. Although she was better than before her Trial of Position, her sibmate seemed to derive some sort of sick satisfaction from needling the saKhan of Clan Wolf.

“How did the meeting go?” she asked Ulric.

“Which one?” he replied, and then his eyes lit up as he remembered something.

“Wait - what about your meetings? I want to hear about them first.”

Cyrilla allowed herself a small smile. “The BloodHouses are unified behind the Pack Leader. Even Solomon Ch’in has promised to support the limited strike at ComStar and Terra only, but I am almost certain that he sees that as merely the first step towards reconquering the worlds of the old Terran Hegemony.”

“I am only surprised that his sights are not set to total conquest of the Inner Sphere after Terra,” Ulric commented.

Cyrilla half-snarled. “Solomon might be a hardcore Crusader, but he is also a Wolf and he can evalute odds realistically,” she commented. What went unspoken was that the Leader of BloodHouse Ch’n, which produced some of Clan Wolf’s finest AeroWarriors, would never have risen so far without a keen political sense. As the current unofficial leader of the Crusaders within Clan Wolf, he’d certainly assessed what Jaime Wolf’s bombshell plan meant for the Crusader cause and decided to keep his powder dry.

“Are there any Houses we need to worry about?” Laurel Mehta asked next.

“I do not think so, saKhan,” Cyrilla said after considering. “There has been enough time for all senior officers to peruse the database and think on the implications. Obviously, some within our ranks would still prefer a general invasion, but cold reality has set in and they understand the need for the Clan to present a unified front to our peers.”
Cyrilla directed the last phrase toward Ulric, who, tired as he was, got the unspoken message.

“We expected Star Colonel Jaime’s message would upset the status quo,” the senior Khan of Clan Wolf began while leaning back in his chair. saKhan Mehta nodded in agreement.

“But whereas time has generally allowed cooler heads to prevail inside Clan Wolf, that is not the case for some of our brethren.”

A grim smile appeared on Laurel Mehta’s face. “It is too much for the Wolf Watch to keep up with. Star Colonel Zebulon” – the commander of the Clan Wolf Watch – “looked like he expected me to challenge him to a Trial of Grievance this morning when he reported that the Watch can no longer reliably ascertain whether over half the Clans are Wardens or Crusaders.”

Ulric nodded. “Old alliances are being tested.” He inclined his head toward his saKhan. “We, along with Loremaster Derek Vickers, have met with our counterparts in most of the other Clans at this point – sometimes more than once. The results have been… less than satisfactory.”

Natasha Kerensky leaned forward, refilling their glasses. Cyrilla ignored hers, as did Ulric, but Laurel happily drank up, as did Natasha, who slapped her empty shot glass back down on the table and pointed at her superiors.

“Let me guess, the Green Chickens ignored your offer to meet, while the Dirty Kitties shouted insults, and then ignored your offer to meet,” she said.

Despite herself, Cyrilla Ward found herself chuckling at Natasha’s use of the sibkid nicknames for the leading Crusader Clans.

“Actually, Star Colonel, we have met with both the Jade Falcon and Smoke Jaguar Khans,” Laurel Mehta revealed to the surprise of Cyrilla and Natasha.

“Really,” Cyrilla jumped in. “And?”

Mehta made a face. “Both remain committed Crusaders, seeing the nations of the Inner Sphere as illegitimate.”

“So who have you not talked to then?” Cyrilla pressed.

“The Blood Spirit Khans left Strana Mechty within hours of the Grand Kurultai concluding,” Ulric reported. “Loremaster Vickers’s office received a message from them – one they sent to all the Clans – stating that they will consider their position and respond when ready. Also, not to contact them.”

“The Nova Cats have also refused all meetings,” continued Laurel “although they have said they will return in a month – excuse me, two weeks now – to present their opinion.”

“And the Ghost Bears are calling their own Clan Council to discuss their response,” Ulric finished.

That last point concerned Cyrilla. The Ghost Bears were one of the strongest Clans and were usually conservative and slow to change. They were Wardens mainly through inertia. However, several times throughout their history, they had suddenly changed positions and acted decisively, with overwhelmingly force. Each of those instances had been preceded by a meeting of the Clan Ghost Bear Council. It was impossible to tell which way the Ghost Bears would jump this time.

“What about the rest of the Wardens?” Ward asked.

“The Diamond Sharks are in chaos,” Mehta reported. “Their Crusader faction, led by a Star Colonel Ian Hawker, demanded their Khans commit to the Crusader cause and use the Dragoons’ Database to plan an immediate invasion. Khan Lucas Hammond killed him in a Trial and this has created… internal turmoil.”

“The Cloud Cobras and Goliath Scorpions are for Operation SAMSON, as are the Snow Ravens,” Ulric continued “but they are all niche forces. Yes, I know the Snow Ravens have more WarShips than any two other Clans combined, but they are of limited utility when it comes to taking and holding planets.”

“That leaves the Coyotes – and the latest Warbook says they have five frontline galaxies – same as the Star Adders and Ghost Bears,” put in Natasha.

“It is actually closer to three and a half galaxies,” Ulric grimaced as he said that. “saKhan Selina Koga reported that a series of unfortunate reversals over the past decade has cost them almost thirty percent of their front-line strength.”

“Wonderful,” Natasha said before tossing back a third drink.

“About the only positive is that the Crusaders seem to be as fractured as the Wardens,” Mehta put in. “The Burrock Khans have already indicated they are willing to support SAMSON. Perhaps it is because, as one of the smaller Clans, they see SAMSON as giving them a better chance to participate.”

“We already discussed the Falcons and Jaguars,” Ulric said, looking at the ceiling and thinking as he spoke “Miguel Mercer of the Steel Vipers seemed to be more concerned that whatever decision the Clans make, that he will be elected ilKhan to lead it.”

A roll of the eyes from both Ulric and Laurel effectively underlined how ridiculous that prospect was.

“The Ice Hellions just want to invade right now and walked out of out meeting when we refused to commit to that immediately. The Star Adders tell me they are working on ‘optimising’ Operation SAMSON. The Hell’s Horses still want to take the entire Terran Hegemony, and what the Fire Mandrills want changes day by day – thanks to their internal divisions.”

Ward slumped back in her seat as Ulric finished. This was worse than she feared. While she was trying to think of something to contribute, Ulric’s desk comm chirped for attention.

“Aff,” he said pressing the answer stud.

“Forgive me, my Khan,” came the voice of Ulric’s aide. “You wanted to be notified immediately if any of the Khans contacted you.”

“Who is it?” Ulric asked.

“kaKhan Yvonne Hazen of the Jade Falcons wishes to invite you to a meeting at the earliest opportunity, my Khan.”

30420329-081134Z
From: PERSBU
To: Precentor XVIII Blessing M. Laurent

In the Holy Name of Blessed Blake:

You are required to proceed to CGMB Kuching to take command of 121 Division NLT 30420401-120000L

Travel vouchers for you and your Moderator are authorised and attached to these orders.

The Peace of Blake be upon you.

Precentor XXI K. Hettig, Precentor Armies, for the Precentor Martial

Postscript: You are on your final chance, Blessing. Do not fail. AF

Title: Re: A Reckoning
Post by: Daryk on 13 February 2022, 10:10:45

I like the shorter post format... that last bit was a killer cliff hanger!  :thumbsup:

Title: Re: A Reckoning
Post by: Motsognir on 13 February 2022, 16:34:40

Great to see you back at this alkemita. There is nothing wrong with a shorter format, especially if it helps you.

Title: Re: A Reckoning
Post by: mikecj on 13 February 2022, 16:48:59

Nice.  I liked both parts of that.  And yes, interesting times for other people are fun  >:D

Title: Re: A Reckoning
Post by: cawest on 13 February 2022, 17:13:19

i wounder if Clan Wolf can smuggle some support to the WD.  a carrack with a Hughes would be a nice forward base for Samson.  maybe cover it as a "forwards support base" for the clan invasion.  it is also small enough to not be notice by most of the other clans now that they are dealing with internal issues. 

Title: Re: A Reckoning
Post by: alkemita on 13 February 2022, 22:08:48

Quote from: cawest on 13 February 2022, 17:13:19

i wounder if Clan Wolf can smuggle some support to the WD.  a carrack with a Hughes would be a nice forward base for Samson.  maybe cover it as a "forwards support base" for the clan invasion.  it is also small enough to not be notice by most of the other clans now that they are dealing with internal issues.

That would likely be way too little for SAMSON. The whole point of sending the DB back to the Clan Homeworlds was to inject a dose of cold, hard reality to counteract Crusader fantasies about what an invasion of the Inner Sphere would be like, and require. Even reducing the mission objective to "Kill ComStar" will still require the lion's share of the combined Toumans of the Clans - not to mention, as happened in canon, most of their merchant fleet to act as the logistics train.

Title: Re: A Reckoning
Post by: misterpants on 15 February 2022, 19:42:59

I'm curious what Focht's game is with assiging Blessing to command a conventional division, given her previous skill set was commanding black ops...

Title: Re: A Reckoning
Post by: Daryk on 15 February 2022, 19:51:57

That can have all kinds of interesting results...  8)

Title: Re: A Reckoning
Post by: misterpants on 15 February 2022, 22:09:42

I was thinking more of Blessing being thrown in the deep end of the pool, unless Blake's Wrath was also a division-sized unit.

Title: Re: A Reckoning
Post by: alkemita on 16 February 2022, 17:39:15

Quote from: misterpants on 15 February 2022, 22:09:42

I was thinking more of Blessing being thrown in the deep end of the pool, unless Blake's Wrath was also a division-sized unit.

Quote from: misterpants on 15 February 2022, 19:42:59

I'm curious what Focht's game is with assiging Blessing to command a conventional division, given her previous skill set was commanding black ops...

In this story, Blake's Wrath is a Division(-) sized unit, although it never operates that way.

Focht's "Game" has to do with developments earlier in the story, where we saw that Laurent was a friend and ally of Charles Seneca, who has been deposed as head of ROM.

Political maneuvers are in play.

And as the former commander of Blake's Wrath, Laurent has certain experiences that the vast majority of the ComGuards do not, at this point in time...