Golden Lion AU Supplemental

[AlphaMirage]

Training and Condition of the Chainelaine Population
From Merchant ovFactor Kadriye
To ilKhan Leo Showers and the Council of Khans

While the Nova Fox’s subordination of the Hanseatic League netted us a large and reliable workforce the conquest of the Chainelaines has given us a wider range of peoples than we have organized before. The Merchant Caste has found the local governments of the sixteen worlds that compose the Islands less than cooperative or organized unlike the Trade Houses of the Hansa. This has complicated our efforts to quantify their capabilities and resources although with some assistance from local collaborators such as the Free Guild AgriCorp and Paranse Civil Defense Compact we are making progress.

As requested, we are sending out emissaries to the local populations to recruit and incorporate them into our growing empire. Some of these emissaries have required their Wardens engage local vigilance groups or protect them from roaming Dark Caste. Our occupation forces have been unable to halt an ongoing insurgency, but Patrol (Law Enforcement), Wardens (Bodyguards), and Rangers (Wilderness Bandit Hunters) contain the damage as best they can.

These recruits are gathered on Paran to undergo the intake process we have communicated to the Paranese Free Compact Cadre. Out of each thousand candidates, two hundred are selected to undergo Warrior training, the rest are given a secondary test, assigned a caste, and transferred to an appropriate training facility. The standard cut is 1000-500-400-250-200 to give the best candidates the greatest chance of completing their Warrior training.

From each cohort of 200 we expect perhaps 5 will prove eligible to undergo advanced training as a MechWarrior or Pilot with the remainder filling out lesser but still crucial roles. Unfortunately, the nature of our REVIVAL timetable has these individuals completing their training after the Lyran Commonwealth has been conquered but it is your grand vision to achieve more, and we seek to realize it. Most of these individuals will become infantry, technical, or armor crews freeing up more of our own Clansmen to conduct offensive actions more quickly than more engrossing roles.

It is great wisdom to assign Elemental Phenotype Officers to the Occupation Clusters, the Chainelaine Islanders rightfully respect and fear our Armored Infantry. Those that have been selected are tough, experienced, veterans that shall inspire and train the next generation of Touman Officers while freeing their brethren to undertake the arduous task of clashing with the Lyran Commonwealth Armed Forces and Lucrewarriors they employ such as the Kell Hounds.

Elsewhere our representatives, INTER-LOGI, and military governors such as the Star Colonel Nekane Hazen (the Pirate Queen of Ingvolstand) have coopted local industries to support our own factory ships. The workforce lacks our skills but with time they shall improve. Our most important asset however is manpower and that is something that the Chainelaines and our other colonies have given us. It is also why we should endeavor to win over the peoples of the Lyran Commonwealth where their own rulers have failed them.

Una Sumus Invicta

[AlphaMirage]

Criminal Injustice
The Commonwealth’s Free Zones

The Free Zones have been around since the earliest years of the proto-states that eventually became the Lyran Commonwealth. Feudal lords and corporate boards found some portions of their lands or complete worlds ‘untamable’ or ‘uneconomical to colonize.’ Rather than expand their militaries to patrol these regions as the Federated Suns does or make large infrastructure investments, they simply denoted them as ‘Free.’ This was done with great consideration however as once these zones are ‘Free’ the Commonwealth nobility lose all claim to them.

Free Zones are not subject to the local nobles’ power and are treated like a foreign exclave on the planet. This separation is a double-edged sword: While people born or living full time within a ‘Free Zone’ may not have to pay taxes or register for conscription. They also have no Commonwealth citizenship or rights that entail them to protection from Local Lords or Courts. These lawless zones initially drew numerous entrepreneurs and farmers seeking to liberate themselves from oppressive police, the burden of onerous regulations, and competition with much larger corporations.

This rush was short lived however as well-armed bandits and pirates, mostly veterans of the Amaris Crisis, or First and Second Succession Wars, became a major concern within the Free Zones. Without access to the protection of a local lord or money to hire enough Mercenaries the disorganized populations of these Free Zones reached out to the well-moneyed and connected organized crime families. These mafia states quickly organized into cohesive city-states that could stand against the bandits. This relationship crystallized during the Third Succession War as the criminal smuggling ships were the only ones that would visit these remote and difficult places.

While the growth of the Mafia City-States within the Free Zones was somewhat concerning to the Lyran Nobility it kept banditry low and crime away from their subjects. These states stayed small enough that they could not pose a threat to a planetary noble’s house troops, and paid customs dues for anything imported or exported off their world. Only foolish nobles asked to see the mob’s books to ensure they weren’t cheating rather than ‘cash the check and buy something nice with it.’

During the desperate days of the 30th Century a new dimension was introduced. Free Zones had matured to be a minority component of the Commonwealth’s GDP as factories, plantations, and mines could be established that didn’t need to follow worker safety or environmental regulations. This made their goods cost competitive and voluminous enough to supply on world or ship on the growing Lyran Merchant Fleet while freeing up citizens to do more skilled, value-added work. However, the Free Zones had many fatalities from accidents, crime, and pollution thus they needed a consistent supply of new population.

Always looking for an opportunity to implement a new security and save ongoing expenses banks and other institutions began lobbying for convicted prisoners to serve out their sentence in a Free Zone rather than prison. This was approved during the reign of Archon Eric Steiner who also massively expanded Free Zones to free up garrison troops to send to the Combine theater, pay for the war effort, and increase the production of various commodities.

To this day convicted criminals are given three options, a variable fine depending on the severity of the crime which settles the judgement, or a term of service, either in the military equal to half their sentence if they meet the requirements, or indentured servitude as prisons were deemed uneconomically to the utilitarian Lyrans and thus do not exist (although there are private prisons that acquire LoIs).

Letters of Indenture (LoI) are traded like any other security on the market, auctioned off with the baseline bid chosen based on the criminal’s skills and capabilities as well as their term (anywhere from 3 months to 25 years) and conditions (they are still technically Commonwealth subjects and thus have some rights). The Free Zones thus act as vulture funds sweeping up many ‘low value’ individuals to employ in their company towns as they see fit. If the indentured is convicted of more criminal behavior, they don’t get a new auction the Free Zones sweep in and buy out their Letter on the cheap. This encourages good behavior among the fortunate ones acquired by more respectable organizations or people while discouraging activist acquisition of those that are ‘undeserving.’

This barbarous trade has been criticized on multiple occasions by popular movements and religious organizations. However, it does not move the Estates General to change it. They say these groups are free to pay the fines of or acquire the LoIs of convicted criminals if they wish and free them. Such organizations typically lack the funds or willingness to do so at scale and often warrant further ‘investigation’ into their activies.

[PsihoKekec]

So if you are unfairly convicted in LC, you can't really appeal your sentence because you are shipped off to a new owner in Free Zone who has communication difficulties.

[AlphaMirage]

So if you are unfairly convicted in LC, you can't really appeal your sentence because you are shipped off to a new owner in Free Zone who has communication difficulties.

"Are you insinuating you can't get a fair trial in our Commonwealth. Well you should have gotten a better lawyer or followed the rules."

Two bald, sunglasses wearing German men in shiny black trenchcoats appear, "Please come with us to the 'office.' We have some questions."

[PsihoKekec]

Which means that on every world there is a substantial number of people willing to collaborate with Clans and Clans are much more astute in your story, occasional headcase notwithstanding.

[AlphaMirage]

Which means that on every world there is a substantial number of people willing to collaborate with Clans and Clans are much more astute in your story, occasional headcase notwithstanding.

The headcase thing will actually be brought up in another supplemental story eventually.

Until then we continue the adventures of Star Commander Meto and his barbarian horde.


Diary of Star Commander Meto
Part 3 – An Arduous Path
We were trained in many types of weapons from hand to hand and swords to anti-tank rockets or field guns. The Touman however issued us semi-automatic ballistic rifles and mortars and provided further training in Mountain Assault. As my people were accustomed to the cold and limited oxygen of Irdmach’s mountains we excelled beyond what our Paranse trainers expected.

Upon the completion of our training the Point Commanders, including myself, met in a Circle of Equals to decide who would be chief among us. I defeated Ankot, a fellow Tribal from Dark Mist, who had a tougher head than my fist requiring I lift and throw him outside the Circle. He took it poorly at first, but we bonded over war dances and mugs of ale aboard the Carrack troopship SLS Jessica Reller attached to the 217th Adder Sentinel Cluster under Star Colonel Tuor Maybank. Colonel Maybank and many of the Sentinel and Occupation Force Commanders throughout the Clans was an Elemental and we respected his judgment on matters that concerned us more than one of the Mechwarriors.

Colonel Maybank had been ordered to relieve the 133rd and 203rd Adder Hussars on the contested world of Goat Path. Guerilla forces resupplied by blockade runners affiliated with the Malthus Crime Family had proven impossible to remove. They along with the hostile mountain terrain inflicted serious damage on the Hussars’ equipment and manpower. The Hussars had fought hard but were needed for the next wave and thus needed to rest, rebuild, and refit before engaging in OPERATION:LEAPFROG where they would support the ‘Central Thrust’ to Atocongo along with the rest of the Star Adder Delta and Gamma Galaxies. Many of the Hussars’ support and auxiliary units were ill-prepared for cold weather and cases of frostbite or similar injuries required treatment at the superior medical bays aboard the Jessica Reller.

We embarked onto a Condor and landed at Thorn, the only city and thus capital of this mountainous world whose absentee Ruler, Baron Torben von Presk, had not bothered to maintain a militia of anything but ‘paper soldiers.’ Due to the difficulty in enforcing order upon this planet most of it was declared a ‘Free Zone’ with much of the population laboring in shaft mines and smelters or on opium plantations.

Their masters import much of the food equally acquired from planetary ‘Free Zones’ controlled by the Malthus Syndicate to supplement those grown in greenhouses or terraces. Food imports had been reduced as large quantities of weapons and more Syndicate gunmen occupied their blockade runner’s cargo bays, decreasing the rations for the laborers, and increasing the Malthus’ already draconian production quotas.

The Malthus gunmen’s methods were crude but effective. Not only were the Clans always fighting uphill, but the locals knew or made hidden passages below. Aerospace attack was thus impossible even if they could be located as the Malthusians ducked into caves before being fired upon. Cliffs were dynamited crushing the Hussars’ lighter mechs beneath boulders and rockslides. If they tried to take the ridge Sappers waited, then blew out ridges from under the feet of mechs causing them to plummet to their doom.

Despite the challenges Colonel Maybank trusted us to accomplish the task of handling the threat from these guerillas. I set it upon myself to conduct a training expedition to practice what it would be like to engage the enemy. We acquired mules and drew our weapons from those that were left behind when the Hussars departed and what we had brought for ourselves.

Although unopposed by any hostiles the mountains caused casualties but allowed us to practice medical evacuation via helicopter and see that the Clan’s combat medical training was effective. Adjustments were made and fewer incidents occurred during the second expedition where we accidentally caused an avalanche with our mortars. None of my Warriors were injured on the third which was made more arduous for incorporating advanced vertical assault and close battle methods within the confining maze of a mine.

Confident in our training and my leadership we undertook our first assault on a small enemy position. We were lifted into position aboard Anhur transports modified with skis to land on snowy mountain tops or one of Goat Path’s many glaciers that fed rivers with incredible waterfalls. Our target was located in one of these serpentine ‘tongue valleys’ whose floor contained ores pulverized to gravel by glacial mass.

We deployed at night; Goat Path has no moon so there is only starlight to navigate by. Still, it was hazardous despite the Clans who had given us the gift of night vision and there were several instances of one of my Warriors almost falling into a glacial crevasse before the rest of those roped to him were able to deploy their axes and haul him up. Two days passed while we hiked into position and got a reconned the enemy position. That delay allowed the Sentinel’s Anhurs to deploy the remainder of my one hundred strong Star onto the ridgeline and provide us with additional mortar ammunition. On the fifth day we attacked from three ridges with a precisely targeted and timed mortar barrage supported by sharpshooters. Caught by surprise the enemy was eliminated before they could take refuge in their bunkers or even attempt to assault us.

Following this we roped down under cover and established contact with the miners who had been lured into this gold mine with false promises of wealth. It required some diplomacy and several large cups of chai and brandy before they trusted us. Eventually they did and we evacuated them to Thorn aboard the same Anhurs that had carried us to them, while I was not present for the events being the last to leave, INTELSTAR debriefed them all upon arrival. The swift and precise nature of our raid impressed Colonel Maybank and netted the INTELSTAR detachment numerous intact records, electronic and paper, that helped identify collaborators and provide information about the number and nature of additional targets.

We repeated the performance the following week and two more after that. Two months passed before INTELSTAR hacked into the Malthusian’s communication systems to broadcast the message that we were coming for them along with footage from my POV taken during a cave clearing operation in which we drew our swords. Unwilling to die, the Malthusian Lieutenants and their Enforcers surrendered unconditionally and were taken as isorla by Colonel Maybank. Their blockade runners followed closely after as the Sentinels baited them into a trap before overwhelming their dropships on the ground before taking them as isorla. No additional reinforcements came to Goat Path before my Star was given leave in the placid and familiar wilderness of Baker 3 to prepare for LEAPFROG.

[PsihoKekec]

Send barbarians to take out gangsters.

[AlphaMirage]

Hunting Falcon
12/15/3051 | Reykjavik, Rasalhague, Free Rasalhague Republic

Diana Pryde looked out on the Kell Hounds training FRR Reservist Corpsmen training combatives, weapon handling and retention in the courtyard below. She crossed her arms over the fur lined jacket then slapped her hands on the empty gun belt at her waist. “Their form is sloppy Phelen. Are these truly the best mercenaries that c-bills can buy in the Inner Sphere?”

Phelen shook his head, leaning against the wall next to the window to stare outside. “We don’t train hand to hand as often as your people do. Less need for what you call Un-augmented Trials.” He looked over toward the massive chair beside the fireplace that Kai Allard occupied. “He is the exception.”

She too looked over to Kai. “You only know half the story.”
“I know more than I’d like to know. It was a small ship, and neither of you were subtle nor quiet.”

Reykjavik’s skyline was dark as curfews had been imposed on its citizens due to the crisis just across their border. Light pooled beneath those few streetlamps that remained active as military police trucks cruised empty streets. “This is the capital of the Free Rasalhague Republic?”

“This nation is younger than us. It will grow.”
“Not before the ilKhan turns his eyes to it.”
“When do you think that will happen?”

“As I told their military intelligence,” She turned to walk toward the fireplace, “Eventually, probably sooner rather than later. Depends on perceived risk from the Draconis Combine.”

“The Draconis Combine is presently weak. Not that it has changed the Sandoval’s attitude.”

An older man with gray temples, the red and black Kell Hounds uniform, and a MechWarrior’s strut parted the heavy but well balanced doors flanked by a pair of grim eyed Kungsarme Majors. The doors closed with a solid thump. “Nothing but a knock on the noggin would change James or Tancred’s minds and get them onboard with more support for the Commonwealth. I’d deliver it but I’m here instead.”

Kai sighed but stood up from his chair and saluted, “Colonel Kell, finally.”
The Colonel embraced Phelen before separating and standing at the fore of their loose circle. “Young man! I could not have anticipated that you would pick up my nephew immediately upon arrival around Elissa.”

He looked toward Diana, “I understand that I have you to thank for that. Truly I am grateful.”

“Who are you?”

A confused expression came over his face before realization dawned on him, “Right you do not know me.” He bowed with a swish of his half-cape rising with a broad smile, “I am Colonel Patrick Kell, founding member and former commander of the Kell Hound’s Second Regiment.

Prince of Mercenaries!
Dragonslayer!
Ladykiller.”

Her face was blank, eliciting a wounded expression from the Colonel, and mild chuckles from Kai and Phelen. “Why is he here?”

“Presumably to take us back to Arc-Royal.”
His tone was flat, his continence flat. “Once I negotiate an exception to the blockade with the Elected Prince,” he looked aside, “and negation of the Kell Hound’s,” he paused and looked toward the Majors beside him, “lucrative contract with the Kungsarme.”

The Majors sighed and shook their heads, “Once more mercenaries leave the Republic floundering when we might have need of them.”

“Gentlemen, I would not do this if it wasn’t necessary. The Allied Mercenary Command can perhaps stop the Clans at Arc-Royal.” Once more he looked toward Diana and extended a hand toward her, “perhaps with help from an insider.”

She paused, looking around at the Hounds and Kungarme officers in the room. Her fingers tapped her chest while her boot did the same to the floor. “I have been unimpressed with your Hounds Colonel Kell. You had better up your game if you want to have a chance against us.”

Patrick leaned toward Kai whispering, “Is she always like this?”
“This is tamer than usual actually. Your charm won’t work on her.”
“We’ll see about that Lieutenant.”

“Fine, name your conditions Diana Pryde.”

“I want a Battlemech for each of my fireteam, the best you can find.”
“Easy.”

“Autonomy.”
“Within reason. I must assign a minder to your people for everyone’s sense of security. You are spies after all.”

“Finally, I want to challenge this Ranna Kerensky I hear so much about to a Mech duel.”

Phelen’s attention came back to the room from the fire, “Wait! Why would you do that?”

Diana leaned forward hands on hips unmoving with an irritated look on her face, “Because I am sick of hearing about her! And how great she supposidly is!”

Kai looked at Phelen, “Isn’t that the girl from Outreach?” Phelen nodded, “That you?” He nodded again. They both looked at Diana then toward each other and shrugged.

“That is up to her and the Dragoons,” Patrick looked at his subordinates with a look of resigned understanding, “but I can make the introduction.”

“Very well, my Falcons will follow me in our fight, alongside the Hounds, as equals.”
“You have a high opinion of yourself MechWarrior.” Patrick clapped which confused the others, “I commend that. Let’s see how you measure up for real.”

[AlphaMirage]

Clan Concerns
From the Diary of Lieutenant Rachel Spector, Lyran Commonwealth Military Intelligence

I feel as though I should be offended by how unguarded the Clanners were with me compared to Adam, but I accept it because its easier. While he entertained Admiral Topi and I weathered the aggressive flirtations of his Coregn Commodore Karrah I was putting those degrees in Psychology and Computer Science to use (go ahead call me a nerd Lea, but unlike you I’m the one sleeping with one of Duchess Steiner’s sons).

Karrah proved an interesting case, based on what data I was able to scrape together the Clans have an interesting take on gender equality. Their Trueborn Sibkos are composed of an equal number of male and female cadets who must meet the same physical and mental performance metrics to progress. Due to this limit female (MechWarrior and Elemental) cadets struggle to achieve the final Trial of Position. Many of them drop out early, reassigned to less physically strenuous roles within their Touman or society while it seems men that drop out do so due to a physical weakness, injury, or a lack of aggression. Apparently Aerospace has an 80-20 split though for their Espatier (mostly male) and Pilot (mostly female)  Corps where normal sexual dimorphism is more apparent among that phenotype for whatever reason. (I recognized this as some of the Midnight Star Espatiers were tall and handsome with just enough muscle while the females were petite and pretty with a stomach I'd kill for. At least I have a better rack though nothing compared to Kareah and some of the other female Elementals that didn't 'fit' into their suits and had to drop out of training.)

Out of 100 MechWarrior Sibko Cadets perhaps 5 will succeed (almost 20 for Elementals which makes sense as they are more likely to die) and apparently there are good odds some of these will be a woman. These woman not only need to be a very impressive physical specimen but must make up for a lack of physical strength with aggression, motivation, and a significant increase in sociopathy. This combination of traits right out of Sibko mean that many female Warriors peak early, failing to progress beyond Star Captain (beyond a few exceptions of those that are both savvy or sociopathic enough) as they are competing with more numerous and experienced men coming into their physical and mental prime around their mid-20s (Something I am still waiting for Adam to do). These traits help me understand why Katya Kerensky’s behavior was so erratic and Karrah’s so forward.

Disturbingly I have also found that a number of the final female candidates are specifically recruited by the Scientist Caste particularly among the Genetics branch. This seems to be a purposeful choice among the Scientists because it seems preserved based on what data I was able to discern. When I scraped their HPG linked Chatterweb many handles tagged as Genetics Scientists were linked to women’s names. This is mildly distressing to my inner feminist as even in this twistedly equal society our roles still intricately tie to reproduction although at least here the Genetics branch is the most prestigious. Whether the ectogenic Iron Wombs are a plus or minus to women I can only speculate, but avoiding pregnancy does sound rather progressive. Many of these women do go on to have freeborn children though as only the Warrior cadet males are sterilized upon maturity, and birth control is seen as Chalcas (Challenging Caste, I believe this is used for something they see as heretical).

I can understand that starting as they did with the small population of the Exodus Fleet. Every member of the Clans seems to be trained in surprisingly advanced medical skills and there is easy and open access to life-saving equipment. This seems to be dedicated to ensuring the casualties in their historical wars or on the difficult planets they settled are limited. Their Warriors are willing to fight to their last breath augmented with a variety of combat drugs and high tech weapons and armor in the protection of their civilian castes which is surprisingly noble. More than I can say about some of the LCAF soldiers I have associated with during the years.

I don’t know what these Scientists are planning but my concern grew as I witnessed the semi-automated factories built into the Midnight Star, intercepted testing data on autonomous robotic combat units on Wotan and Sudeten, the physically imposing but well-educated Elementals, fierce and highly skilled MechWarriors and conventional Warriors, and lithe, deadly swift Aerospace phenotypes.

All of these give me cause for concern.

I’m not sure we can beat them, but I know Adam almost did, so I trust that it is possible.

[AlphaMirage]

SXR-Design Evolution
Joint Report to Armaments Director Conner

We have compiled the joint reports on the SXR series autonomous Battlemechs sent to us by Coordinators Clarus and Calliope aboard the SLS Mekong and SLS Brahmaputra. In both instances the SXR series performed well with minimal erraticism. New behaviors have emerged which the working groups are still in the midst of quantifying and explaining. The embodied AI agents are learning quickly and there is a curious synergy between the Savage, Storm, and Shatter type units reported by both teams who believe it is linked to the Nova CEWS co-processing system both platforms share.

However, it has also come to our attention that the SXR-22 Shatter platforms are proving to vulnerable to damage while fighting on the line beside the larger, sturdier SXR-18 Savage platforms. Apparently, the inclusion of a Gauss Rifle on a turret while logical in the initial design is proving a liability under fire. They are going to experiment with some of the damaged ones that need to be rebuilt anyway.

These SXR-23 Shatter modifications will enclose the Rifle into the torso instead of a turret which will be moved over to the opposite shoulder to mount the flamers and LAMS. Some of the mass lost from the turret mechanism will be used to add external applique armor to the vulnerable torso while reducing some of the leg armor which will provide enough free mass for the core. This will reduce their mobility slightly but not below the Savage platforms they operate beside.

In the meantime we will continue to work with ‘Queen’ Nekane Hazen on Ingvolstand and our Laborers and Technicians on Barcella to increase production of these assets for ‘further experimentation.’

[AlphaMirage]

Katya’s Quest
11/22/3051 | Antares, Contested World

Katya watched as illumination rounds burst over the Rakusian Hills illuminating the tree line with an eerie green light. Soon after small flashes of explosions could be seen upon the hilltop. Her Hellfire’s search lights and those of her Star shed a bright cone over the convoy of olive GP-LT trucks. Gun trucks swiveled their machine guns across the tall grass of the Westmacott Plains and dense woods opposite them.

“Ouroboros, SITREP!”

“We are under attack. Two-Twenty-Second,” a burst of gun fire was heard in the background as the operator fired at something a sense of dread in his voice, “Some of them are already inside the wire. Requesting immediate Striker support.”

“Roger, Sentinels, make best speed to the firebase. We will follow on.”
“Aff, Star Captain.” The gun-trucks and GP-LTs dashed down the road toward the sounds of machine gun fire and explosions.

The woods shifted as the boxy form of a Hunchback 4H emerged from them firing its Defiance Killer T and B3M lasers at her. It was followed by others all bearing the insignia of COMGuards 222nd Division, a set of 2s arranged in a dizzying circle with one another, and a blue Epsilon followed by some roman numbers. Katya’s Hellfire was ready for it, but the Autocannon was packing Armor-Piercing rounds which combined with the initial volley destroyed the modular applique armor panels on either of her side torsos.

Rockets and Thunderbolt Missiles impacted the rest of her Star causing the Adders to stumble under the surprise strength of their enemy’s firepower. They held themselves up determined to not let themselves be bested by the dezgra tactics of the Militant Order.

She flicked the weapon arming switch and felt the reactor’s systems shutter as a portion of its generation capacity was redirected toward the Heavy Lasers over her right shoulder and in both arms. A self-programed macro increased the circulation of coolant through her vest, her chest felt numbed, but it wouldn’t soon enough. “You should have chosen the G version Guardsman. All you did was make me faster.”

Three heavy lasers lanced out from the Hellfire followed by a flight of six stream missiles. The Hunchback shuttered as its right arm and torso melted under the intense heat. Struck by so much firepower it was knocked backward tripping over one of the fallen trees to lie on its back. Katya felt the temperature rise within the cockpit as the myomer and power systems strained under the sudden thermal flux. Energy draw and safety parameters threatened to shut her machine down or detonate its ammunition, her left hand flipped over the multi-function screens to override the DI computer.

Sweat dripped from her as she jumped away from the woods and onto the plains putting some distance between her and the ambushing forces. A parting shot from one of her heavy lasers cut another smooth gash across the Hunchback’s armor as a flight of missiles dug deep into the enemy mech’s armature.

A demi-company of COMGUARDs mechs emerged from the forest to threaten her Star as the infantry and supply trucks raced toward the hilltop firebase. They traded fire with one another before the COMGUARDs called in smoke rounds on their position and disappeared into the woods.

Pursuit was hampered by FASCAM hasty minefields, streams with emplaced river bottom mines that trapped a Hellbringer in the middle of a ford, and artillery barrages guided in by forward observers and low observability Nightshade helicopters with mast optics.

Her Star arrived within the firebase, built with a dominant view of Westmacott Plain leading to the ruins of Antares City. The skeletal remains of the Nashan Diversified skyscraper and city skyline could even be seen on clear days nearly 40 kilometers distant. Armored Ambulances readied themselves to evacuate the moderately wounded that were not critical enough to be air lifted out under cover from the Sentinel Gun Trucks.

Two Mobile Long Toms and assorted other heavy vehicles squatted behind the high earthen ramparts and bottom revetments. Above them a Medusa Aerostat extended their view even further, all the way to Alba and the mountains around it where sour water would be purified into water clean enough to fill irrigation canals all the way to the sea.

Katya ground her teeth as her Hellfire crouched beside the mobile field base. The Technicians gave her space as she stomped toward the earthen dug-out where a Force Protection squad sported bandages from last night’s skirmish. They saluted as she descended into the living area to take a cold shower and wash off her sweat.

Nothing should be beyond their reach, but somehow COMSTAR resists.

The cold water washed away the grime. She lingered stewing in her seeming impotence. If COMSTAR kept her here longer, the fainter her prospects would become, and the less likely she was to have a chance at killing the traitorous Dragoons that had ruined her life.

[PsihoKekec]

Good to see that the headcase is kept busy.

[AlphaMirage]

11/24/3052

Westmacott Plains looked placid from here, the Star Adders had arrived during Antares’ autumn. within her rangefinder the woods concealing their enemy had turned scarlet and brown. Her fur lined gray field jacket and woolen watch cap rippled in the wind.

Beneath her a man stood on the ramparts, “See anything interesting Star Captain Kerensky?”
“Neg, Kyros. Just moldering wheat.”

“Pity, going to be lean times for the people of Antares. Poor luck that we arrived when we did.”
“Sounds like a problem for the Merchants.”
“Problems for Merchants have a way of causing them for the Warrior caste.”
“Well then their freeborn offspring in the Patrol will settle it, one way or another.”

Katya descended the wall only to be replaced by a squad of red shirted Adder Sentinels dialing in range markers. He produced an armor panel shattered after being hit by a Gauss SMG round. The iridescent green panel shed light making its form indistinct. A small shadow appeared beneath the object. “At least it still casts a shadow and is not completely invisible.”

Kyros polished the panel with a handkerchief, “Must be a pain to maintain. I suppose for an army with many techs it might be manageable, but not for us.”

She leaned against the corrugated metal revetment that backed the rampart, “Can you determine how to defeat it Watch Officer.”

“Paint balls.” He chuckled, “The coating needs to be perfect for the camouflage effect to work.
It can only change its color, not anything on it. I suppose this is why they limit it to night attacks and commando raids. Regular electromagnetic sneak suits work better to defeat our sensors in daylight, and COMSTAR seems to have many of them.

Reports from the affected units confirm that the camouflaged units were not carrying any weapons before they attacked using blades and garottes.”

Her pistol came into her hand from her belt, a chromed steel 10mm. “Does this look like a paint ball gun Watch Officer?”

“Neg, Star Captain.”

His canvas bag opened to reveal a set of air pistols, the same given to crechies to test their firearms handling and for training purposes. “Do you want neon blue or bright orange?”

Icy blue eyes stared him down, “Blue.”
“I figured as much. You can practice Akimbo gun fighting battle armor at close range.”
“I shall leave that to the Watch’s propaganda department.”
“We train many skills, technical and martial, ambidexterity among them. You would be surprised at what we are capable of.”

He lingered holding onto the air pistol longer than would be considered appropriate. Katya stuffed it into one of her cargo pockets as he did the same with his armor shard, leaving the top of his messenger bag open. “Would you like to practice?”

“I will do so on my own.” They walked away from the observation post, past patrolling Sentinels, “I only wish to find the Two-Twenty-Second’s Headquarters so I can drop on it, kill them, and get off this rock.”
“Same, they seem to have a large cache of equipment on world based on their stickiness. I wonder if they brought a mobile HPG with them to report back.”
His fingers rested on a firm jaw then through short brown hair, “Are we their lab rats? I am not sure where I am honored or insulted.”

“Has the Watch detected any HPG emissions?”
“Neg, but our recon assets cannot be everywhere. Otherwise, we would have found them by now. Marcos wants to march around and draw them out.”

Katya paused at the overly familiar address of their Star Colonel, particularly the lack of mention to his blood name. “The Star Colonel is only inviting more ambushes with our present force posture and I have spoken to him about it.”

They looked toward the Mobile Long Toms presently having the damage dealt to the barrels during the raid two days ago. Kyros passed a folder to her from his pack, “The COMGuards intend to strand us for as long as necessary. Their behavior is one of a fixing force, to dangerous to leave but resource intensive to put down.”

She opened the folder parsing through INTELSTAR briefings addressed to the Star Colonel. Multiple incidents of sabotage and assassination by COMSTAR affiliates were requiring a slower, more manpower intensive occupation than predicted.
“I should not have these. It is a breach of security protocol.”
“He does not read them.
I am the security officer and as such I pulled them from the shredding bin. You should know.”
“Why?”

“Do not be coy with me Katya Kerensky. I am trained in observation and psychology.
I am good at it too. I know you wish to challenge the Star Colonel for command of the Thirty-Seventh.
I merely wish to aid you in getting me off this rock as well. Think of how much Glory you will gain by handling these COMGuards where Marcos could not.”

His hand touched the pens stuffed into the loops on his upper arm, “At least you are someone that will read my reports. I do not write them for my own amusement.”

“Are you certain? I have read some that are suspect.”

“Those were intercepts that I quoted verbatim.” He left her as he sat down and started up his motorcycle. “We will talk again Katya Kerensky. You can count on it.”

His helmet went on, visor down, then he sped out of the gate toward Antares City throwing back a clump of gravel in the process.

Katya looked down at the folder, paused then folded it into her jacket, “Stavag Watch Officers.”

[PsihoKekec]

Does Katya even know what verbatim means?

[AlphaMirage]

Does Katya even know what verbatim means?

Probably, she is ignorant not dumb.

11/28/3051

“Your rack is sagging Star Captain Kerensky.” Kyros said as Katya returned from the showers with her hair and torso in a towel. She tossed the damp hair towel onto him which he put on a polymer clothes horse, “You did not mention anything last night Kyros.”

Another can of FRF (Far Reach Fisheries) Shrimp Jjigae (a type of spicy stew) was slid beneath a polymer board bowing from the weight of encyclopedias and glossy magazines. “Well, the lights were dim,” She reached beside him to pull her gray garrison uniform out of the bag under her cot, “and I was not looking.”

The rustling of cloth beside him paused before he looked again as she buckled her gun belt, “Which is appreciated Watch Officer.”

He stood, gathered his daybag, and pistol harness. “I saw it all last night. No need to pry further.”

She halted for a moment, “I will walk you out.”

“If you insist Katya.”

They exited the central firebase to the garage, Kyros looked up at the corrugated metal roof, “I see they braced and fortified the roof since the last attack.”
“Aff, but we still cannot track down the enemy’s airmobile artillery, even with the Medusa’s RADAR.”
“They have some kind of stealth coating on the helicopters. The forest and hills clutter the return. We are still working on it, but we have not been able to shoot any of them down. It is difficult for our technical intelligence team to find a solution without a physical sample.”


Kyros opened on of his motorcycle’s ‘saddle bags’ and passed a dossier folder to her “I have this though.”

Katya took it, opening it to look through elevations and geophysical survey maps of the area. “We have been searching Antares City archives for old survey maps that might lead us to the enemy’s hiding places. I am going to follow up on some of them while I am in Alba.”

“Be careful Watch Officer, COMSTAR seems to know what we are doing before we do.”

“I will be wary Star Captain Kerensky.” Kyros donned his helmet and strapped is pack to the back of the motorcycle, “Until then I must take my leave.”

“Granted.” Katya watched as he rode out of the firebase momentarily distracting the Star Adders gathered for morning PT.


Kyros rode along the winding three lane country road that connected Antares City and Alba that danced along the valleys separating the Rakusian Hills. This early in the morning they were abandoned except for a few large trucks and cargo vans carrying freight and workers between them. His tire warning light turned on as a metallic ding bounced off the bike, he pulled over to the side of the road to investigate.

His front tire was flat with signs of a puncture. “I must have run over a nail.” He squawked into the helmet mic synced to the bike’s own antennae and radio. “WO Kyros to Alba Station. Mechanical difficult en route, expect delay.”
“Roger that WO. Do we need to send a GP?”
“Neg, I can patch it.”

A few minutes later a white van pulled up beside him while he was pulling out his patch kit. The passenger shouted out to him, “You need a hand fella?”

“No, I have it under control.”

“We’ll see about that.” The passenger produced a TK Enforce machine pistol and unloaded the whole magazine into Kyros, each shot breaking the tranquil quiet of the wilderness around them. He got out and stripped the bike of its bags tossing them into the van before speaking into his own radio as they drove off toward Alba.

“Kill Confirmed, Demi-Precentor.
We got the one asking all the questions,”

[PsihoKekec]

I'd reckon from the attention he got, that he was asking the right questions. He should have expected that they will try to kill him, in this kind of warfare an inquisitive intelligence officer is the prime target.

[AlphaMirage]

12/01/3051

The ruins of Antares City could be seen through binoculars from the Starport, Laborers constructed earthen berms using isorla dozers and installed sensor towers to ensure the security of the Star Adder Headquarters within. A kilometer wide exclusion zone was patrolled by a dedicated Binary of Mechs from the 37th Adder Strikers with kill orders clearly posted on signs beyond the berms.
 
Katya looked out over it from the observation deck of the Command Overlord CSA Valliant. Her gray garrison uniform and fur lined jacket contrasting with the larger man’s greatcoat.  She paused to frame her question. “Star Colonel Radick, I wish to look into the assassination of WO Kyros.”
“We have people for that Star Captain Kerensky. I need you to ensure this world does not fall to COMSTAR’s meddling.”

He walked over to look over the Star Port bustling as it was with Patrol and additional Occupation Troops to contain the 222nd Division that had evaded his wrath.
“Already Gamma Galaxy Commander Natron Kozyrev thinks this situation is out of my control and he is sending in Star Colonel Tuor Maybank’s Occupation Cluster.
More freeborns, the worst kind beside these soft Lyrans.

At least the Islanders proved worthy to serve in our Touman. They should be thankful we gave the opportunity to serve REVIVAL.

Star Captain, we do not have time to worry about a freeborn Watch Officer.”

She felt a wince of pain and rejection and the dismissal of a bright and dedicated freeborn by his Commander, “I selected you to replace my missing Binary because I believe you are competent. Find me the Two Twenty Second,” Marcos clenched his fist toward the former HPG HQ, “so that I might be rid of them once and for all.”

“Do I have the authority to requisition what I need in order to do so Colonel?”
“Aff,” Marcos picked up a tablet computer and tapped in some characters, “I have informed the Coregn. Do you know what my number is now Star Captain?”

“Five million c-bills bounty for you from the Two Twenty Second. I only have two hundred fifty thousand, according to the Watch reports.”
“You will have to try harder then. These people only respect strength, use whatever means necessary to ensure their compliance. They certainly will not hesitate to resort to dezgra tricks.”

“If you say so sir. May I take my leave?”

Marcos turned on a heel and saluted, “Aff, good hunting Star Captain. I expect progress reports.”
A moment passed before she returned the salute, “Of course sir,” and disembarked from the dropship into the seemingly haphazard but carefully choreographed dance of INTER-LOGI and the Touman. A staff jeep was waiting for her at the bottom of the ramp, she ensured that her weapons and other equipment including Kyros’ notes, ones he had died for, were still where she had left them. “I am looking for the fastest way to Alba.”

The Merchant pulled up manifests from throughout the Starport, truck convoys, air freight, dropships incoming and outgoing, as well as barges arriving down the Canal and trains going up it. “There is an Anhur departing shortly carrying munitions and an LEU of vital supplies. Heading to the Sheriff of Alba. They have an open jump seat.”

“Take me there.”

They arrived with haste just as the Anhur was warming up the fusion engine that powered the turbofans. A howl erupted from the fans pushing away clouds of dust and debris from the tarmac as it reached operational temperatures. Katya could feel the sound through her bones even though her headphones muffled the roar.

She was pulled up into the passenger bay by the female Loadmaster before she hopped down to conduct the final inspection of the lift clamps and tow cable built into the VTOL. Boxes of small arms ammunition were carefully netted within their metal cubicles as a ventral door linked the hoist cable to the top of the machine.

The Loadmaster ensured her kit was stored securely before gesturing to the pilots that she was ready for lift off. Lift ramps rose and the ventral door opened as the cable descended till the streamlined LEU (10-ton container) was hooked in by the ground crews and drawn upward. Once it reached the right position the clamps locked on and the door was closed.

Katya and the Anhur climbed to their cruising height above the ruins of Antares City. From this height she could really feel the impact of Radick’s desolation. Her headphones crackled as the woman sitting across from her opened a channel, “First time flying over it?”
“Aff, what a mess.”

“Wait until you see Alba Star Captain.”
“Worse?”
“Differently worse. Everyone here was moved there, at gunpoint.”
“It is only a small city. It cannot fit that many people.”
“They are trying.”

[PsihoKekec]

Collective punishment, a surefire way to make 222nd lose the local support.

[AlphaMirage]

The Anhur departed from the Triad, an island of Clan territory within the sea of humanity that was the city of Alba had become. Tall and broad MRAP style vehicles, each carrying a decad/fireteam, used by Star Adder mechanized forces. Most were disembarked in riot gear staring down a mass of protestors marching up the ramp to the City’s Triad complex carrying Anti-Star Adder signs and banners. Black Aketon clad Elementals stood behind shield bearers with heavy longstaves, the front line troops in heavy riot armor presented singlesticks and held formation behind a row of barricades as the crowd kept their distance.

Katya heard the shouts of protest even this far behind the lines in a huddle with Sheriff Jason and his subordinate Team Leaders. The Team Leaders broke after clarifying the rules of engagement leaving just the two of them behind. “Why do you allow this to continue Sheriff?”
“The protests and marches?”
“Aff.”
“My predecessor tried to put a halt to them but was killed by a former police sharpshooter. I intend to learn from his mistake.
We cannot keep order for two million inhabitants with only five hundred Patrol under my command. We have water and power, but the Star Colonel fired the civilian government and emergency services when he took command of the region, so food, work, and order are in short supply. So, I allow them to protest because if I did anything else they might rebel or descend into full anarchy, and I am not certain we could stop them.”

“You could shoot them.” Heavy machine guns atop the MRAPs were pointed up in the direction of the crowd.

“We could but we are at the forward edge of the occupation zone, it will take time for the civilian castes to be deployed to Antares to restore essential services. I have had to bring the city clerk and city manager onto my staff to even understand what is going on.”

“You brought the Lyrans into your staff despite the security risk.”
“Of course, but I had no other choice.
What are you doing here MechWarrior? Surely the Star Colonel did not send his favorite Star Captain to check up on me.”
“I am following up on leads from Kyros regarding the Two-Twenty-Second’s hidden base.”
“His death was an unfortunate loss. I did enjoy his company. He always had interesting conversation topics at the ready."

Jason looked her over, from head to toe she was in uniform issued kit. “However, you will not be able to get very far as you presently are, I do not have enough men to assign as your bodyguard. We are a commodity out there.”

“I have authority to requisition them.”
“Indeed, you could, but it would not help you. No one will speak with you in your present state, you are very obviously a Clan Warrior. You will need to ditch your uniform and blend in if you want to have any chance. I also cannot guarantee your safety.”

“No one has ever guaranteed my safety except myself. I am a Clan Warrior; I have lived among enemies before.”

“Are you certain this is the path you wish to choose MechWarrior. Surely this is a task for another Watch Operative.”
“I have accepted the task, Sheriff. What will you do to aid me?”
“Well, I suggest you go shopping first. Perhaps purchase a dress.”
Katya couldn’t hide her confusion and outrage, “Shopping? A Dress? I have not worn one of them since I was in creche.”
“Aff, it would be the perfect disguise.” Jason pointed toward a large concrete building emblazoned with ‘Zettle Bancorp’ on it. “Ask my deputy for some cash. Merchants still accept Nashan scrip or Kroner on world. There is a department store several blocks over that might still have some stock. Stealing clothes are not exactly at the top of everyone’s priorities now.”

Behind them the Patrol officers beat sticks to their shields, slowly advancing as a phalanx to disperse the crowd withstanding thrown or slung rocks the entire way and rounding up agitators. “The area should be cleared shortly.”

[AlphaMirage]

Zettle Bancorp’s Lobby was as still, dark, and cold as the Nero Marquina marble floors that clicked under Katya’s boot. The heavy metal door leading into the safety deposit box and vault was open an oasis of light that caused the white inclusions in the marble to shimmer like stars beneath it. She walked over to see an older man hunched over an immense ledger with three sets of computers running numbers beside him. He looked up to see Katya above him, “Finally a customer. What can I do to help you Star Captain?” 

“Are you Deputy Phillip?”

He adjusted the lights to more clearly illuminate the name stitched over her left breast, “Deputy and present Acting Bank Manager Phillip at your service Star Captain Kerensky.”
“I require cash and possess the Coregn’s preapproval.”
Phillip typed something into one of the computer screens, “So you do. How much would you like?”

Katya paused for a moment and looked down at her canvas backpack. She lifted it placing it on the table then opened the front pocket's flap to gesture toward its interior. “This much.”

An awkward silence grew between them, his hands hovered over the register drawer. “Small bills or big ones?”

Her eyebrows furrowed, “I do not understand your question Deputy Phillip. I am told that I should use cash to purchase supplies from the civilian population for my mission.”
“Well as long as you can count.
Ten thousand Kroner in miscellaneous bills and coins it is then.”

A wad of rubber banded cash bearing the faces of dead Archons and lost Heroes was pulled out from beneath the bench followed by a collection of coins in a cloth pouch, the front pocket bulged as Katya secured the flap. “Will that be sufficient?”

“Depends on what manner of supplies you require Star Captain. If you run out feel free to come back. As you can imagine I do not get many customers.
Pleasure doing business with you.”

One of the computers registered an error, its cursor blinked furiously across a string of abstract characters. “Now if you will excuse me Star Captain. I have to handle some more of COMSTAR’s code traps.”

She waited for a moment before returning her pack to its rightful place on her back and her rifle to her hands. Outside a chill wind blew off the reservoir just behind the Triad causing her to tuck into her coat and adjust her burgundy beret.

Only the faintest spicy smell of CS gas could be detected as the Star Adder’s cleaned up the square and began to unload the shipping container that her Anhur had brought. Ration boxes were distributed to the Patrolmen and civilians that had accepted the Sheriff’s offer of employment.

Katya watched the unloading breaking down the outer packaging to more easily stuff the ration components into her pack. Sheriff Jason waited for her near the same command vehicle. “You should be clear to head into the city Star Captain. Stick to the upper level for now until you acquire civilian clothes. We can keep that area reasonably secure now that the mob has dispersed.

The lower level and outskirts however are too broad for us to maintain a presence. We have a rapid response unit, but a lot can happen before we can reach you.”

“I can take care of myself Sheriff.”
Jason nodded and pointed toward the East, “The department store I was talking about is that way, about three blocks,” he handed her a map, “This is a Transit Map. The City Manager has somehow managed to keep it operational. It is crowded however with so many more people here than it was designed to handle.”

An orthogonal view of Alba City showed the multiple tramways that crisscrossed a city which spanned rivers and canyons with multiple industrial and commercial zones. The City Triad and Government Square sat on the highest ridge-point making it the least accessible and thus most defensible sector. Katya walked downhill pass Alba’s Grand Interstellar Hotel which now served as Patrol headquarters. Its first two stories were protected by metal gates and sandbag walls protected a mortar pit where a fountain once flowed. Blue and Black MRAPs coiled around its formerly grand entranceway under the watchful eye of Patrolmen enjoying sunshine and a well-earned drink.

She walked down a litter-strew boulevard filled with broken safety glass and boarded up display windows. Three blocks passed with little more than hushed voices and rushed shuffling at the sight of a armed Clan Warrior on Patrol. Katya paused beneath a large sign with a bold Gothic W&W with a whimsical scrip below spelling out, ‘Willow and Wigburg’s.’ “This must be the place he was talking about.”

The revolving door was still and heavy, but the side doors opened with a touch to reveal a grandiose lobby complete with a grand staircase leading to the upper level. Above her was a shimmering chandelier that caught and refracted the light on the central domed ceiling. Katya followed an arrow pointing to ‘Women’s Fashions/Frauenmode.’ She passed through endless racks of brightly colored clothes in every conceivable configuration but was completely lost. Her hand rifled through the clothes comparing them to her frame, but the sizes made no sense.

“Can I help you?” A young woman peeked up from one of the racks. She squeaked out a “Miss,” before dropping the merchandise on the floor upon seeing Katya’s uniform and weapons. Her eyes went wide and skin pale, “I’m sorry. Please excuse me.”

“I require assistance and have money.”
“You want to pay?
And my help.
With what?”

“I am looking for a dress.” Katya held out the closest dress to her frame that she could find by eye.
The girl took a deep breath, “Do you know your measurements?”
“Measurements?” Her hand reached out to another dress, “My size is medium."

[PsihoKekec]

Clanners civilizing the ignorant Spheroids.

[AlphaMirage]

“It looks good on you.”

Katya shifted position on the mirrored pedestal causing the cedar (a grayish red orange) colored dress to wrap around her gray leggings. “I agree Lydia.”

“Your measurements are very similar to Antares’ native supermodel, Annabelle Klein.”
Lydia pointed to a poster with a vivacious blonde woman somewhere tropical wearing stylish clothes. “She retired from the Tharkad fashion scene a few years ago to start her own house in Antares City.” Her shoulders slumped, “Unfortunately, it got blown up during the battle so this Autumn’s AK collection might be our last for a long time.
Too bad, I was really excited for her summer collection. She always has great swimsuits. Although I never get a chance to wear them to the beach.”

“A model?”
“Do they not have models where you come from.”
“No,” Katya stared intently at the poster before attempting to mimic the pose checking herself in the mirror, “Why would we? There are typically only five choices for anything from the Merchants. I have heard of Artisan Caste dyers and clothing specialists on my transit from the Homeworlds.”

She folded up the other clothes into their basket. “You are the first woman from the Clans I’ve met. If you are a medium, then there must be a lot of bombshells among you.
What is your secret?”

“I do not understand the bombshell reference. Nor do I know any secret.
I am Trueborn of the Kerensky bloodhouse so perhaps genetics. Although diet and physical training might be of greater impact.”

“I am jealous, I wish I had an hourglass frame like you. Without working out as much.”

“They occasionally make if difficult to fit into my cockpit chair.” She turned to eye Lydia sending the cedar dress twirling until it came to a halt and fell back toward her, “You have a similar build to our Aerospace Corps. It is almost entirely female, including the technicians.”

“I suppose that is why I have yet to see one. Would you like to look at our accessories?”
Her hands came to her hips then she looked to eye her gun-belt, “Yes, I have no covert means of securing my weapons. Can you provide options?”

“Ummm,” Lydia paused, attempted a gesture stopped midway, and swallowed, “I was thinking purses, but we can look in the belt section first.”

Two large W&W bags thumped on the hotelier’s desk. He looked out from behind them to see Katya on the other side of the desk. A moment’s hesitation came as he looked at her uniform and nametag, “Star Captain Kerensky, I have your key.”

Jingling keys came nervously from the hook behind him, “Fourth floor, spectacular view of the sunset over the canal. I think you will be very happy with it.”

“Excellent. I want these clothes laundered and ready for me tomorrow morning.”

The hotelier peered into the bags to see a half dozen outfits, two shoeboxes, and a smaller bag of miscellaneous products. “Of course, Star Captain.” She accepted the offered keys from his nerveless fingers, “Is there anything else I can do for you?”

She paused tapping a finger to her chin and looking around the ornate hotel lobby kept clean of Patrol boot prints by a small squad of cleaning robots. His face grew more nervous the longer her gaze wandered around. “Is the bar still stocked?”

“Yes Ma’am,” Katya headed off up the staircase before he finished, “only the best for our guests.”

[Wrangler]

Its interesting story....wasn't this thread suppose to be a sourcebook not a story? 

[AlphaMirage]

Its interesting story....wasn't this thread suppose to be a sourcebook not a story? 

I've been using it for various bits that don't fit in the main narrative but fill in the story world and help ground side characters .There wasn't enough about the difficulties of the Clan Occupation and I couldn't think of a way to weave it in to the main plot.

[PsihoKekec]

Do Clanners have it as bad on other worlds as they have it on Antares? I reckon a Comstar division that was preparing for such mission would be much greater obstacle than any Lyran guerrilla force, unless there was a sizeable Loki contigent.

[AlphaMirage]

Do Clanners have it as bad on other worlds as they have it on Antares? I reckon a Comstar division that was preparing for such mission would be much greater obstacle than any Lyran guerrilla force, unless there was a sizeable Loki contigent.

Not really, COMSTAR withdrew most of their personnel from the leading edge of the invasion. Since they are so integrated into essential services like finances, transportation, telecommunications, and data (including vital and business statistics) this has caused a different set of problems. Basically COMSTAR withdrawing has meant that the Clans have to replace everything they did for a planetary administration without the know-how or personnel or accept the security risk of coopting the local government.

Like Kyros intuited the 222nd is acting as a blocking force to draw attention and reinforcements toward this sector for as long as they can in order to slow down the invasion. Also they are conducting technical recon on the Clan's weapons, people, and protocols while catching some good pics on what Clan Occupation looks like for the Propaganda Department.

[Wrangler]

I've been using it for various bits that don't fit in the main narrative but fill in the story world and help ground side characters .There wasn't enough about the difficulties of the Clan Occupation and I couldn't think of a way to weave it in to the main plot.

I would have done it as a Tales of the Inner Sphere, with stories cover every where.  This sort messes up setup for sourcebook arrangement I have for it on the wiki.

[AlphaMirage]

I would have done it as a Tales of the Inner Sphere, with stories cover every where.  This sort messes up setup for sourcebook arrangement I have for it on the wiki.

You can organize it however you wish Wrangler, I will keep my experimental side stories mostly in here however.

12/02/3051 07:35
Harsh shadows appeared on my delicate features beneath harsh elevator lights. Another woman stared at me from the polished metal elevator doors. Her blonde hair was up, looking strangely luminous, neatly bunched in a warm red hat sitting atop a face with hidden scars and matte red lips. “I do not even look like myself.”

I felt every curve of my 7.65mm Mak pistol, secure and hidden behind the large ornate leather belt circling the waist of my ‘cedar’ designer dress beneath a long ‘cream’ overcoat. A thin ‘brass’ scarf was loosely wrapped across my shoulders, “but I do look, like one of these supermodels Lydia spoke of. I wonder how everyone else will react.”

The elevator dinged; I lifted my bag before its doors opened to a lobby filled with off-duty Patrolmen. They stared at me, curious, as my boot’s heels clicked on the gleaming marble tiled floor. A graceful and ornate chandelier glowed above me as the white gloved doormen let me out. He paused and held out a hand, “Have a good day Ma’am.”
“I shall.” The morning air was frosty, I belted the overcoat and stepped down the stairs to a confused expression on the man’s face. “What is up with him?”

My appearance was apparently so startling that the civilians passing by the hotel to the Town Hall looked at me with surprise. An older woman deviated from her course to bump into me, “puttana,” came under her breath. Fury rose within me, I looked back, fists clenched, but it rapidly quenched. 'They do not know who I am. Maybe I did something wrong?'

Outside the hotel’s parking arc was empty of its MRAPs, Patrolmen with rifles ready stood by monitoring a steady procession of civilians and small trucks traveling up the ramp. Few were going in the opposite direction this early in the morning.

Flurries danced in the wind as I approached the Patrol checkpoint. Or rather a ramshackle cordon constructed of tape and barriers taken from the Polizei Station on the corner and MRAPs parked lengthwise just behind them.

Bag check lines were long, leading out into ‘The Rhombus’ as the spheroids called this square leading up to the Triad. There was no one on the return side from ‘The Green Zone’ except a lone soldier looking outward.
Sloppy training.
I could have driven the stiletto hidden within my boot into his throat before he acknowledged me, then turned his rifle on the truck’s gunner before he could depress the barrel.

He looked me over, “Identification please.”
A hollow pit formed in my stomach, I did not sweat and bleed so hard in Sibko to not be recognized, but I was not in uniform and did not know this man. Perhaps my disguise was too good. “Do you not recognize me?”

The Patrolmen leaned forward, one hand on his baton, attempting to intimidate me. Such a lack of training, but I suppose it was too much to expect such professionalism to them. “I do not know you. But I will; when you give me your papers.”

I kept my chin up, withdrew my wallet from this ‘purse,’ opened it, and shifted the remaining 6,000 kroner in ‘cash’ within to present my codex to him. He flushed and apologized, but the situation brought the eyes of waiting civilians to us. They gave me judgmental looks. As I walked through the gate, conspiratorial whispers began within cliques of civvies behind me.

This Rhombus is a bustling, noisy place. Trams, pedestrians, and trucks rounded its uneven sides heading toward other sectors of the city. A cacophony of noise echoed off the canyon wall and buildings that enclosed it. Tall offices of matte glass belonging to Nashan Diversified closed upon the square backlit by soft interior light. In the center a wireframe Rhombus creaked in the wind above it. Above that a Crimson Clan Daggerstar waved in the wind, and beneath that the Star Adder Banner fluttered with the flurries.

None of the signs made sense to me, even in standard. I opened the folded paper that Kyros had given me, three names typed out on it. On that ridiculous portable ‘typewriter,’ that he had taken as isorla from some old office in the Periphery, only finding out its operation in an ancient encyclopedia of technology. An amused chuckle came to my lips as I sat on a cold stone mantle beside the empty reflecting pool.

Each character was off, low rez, blurry, compared to a laser printer. “Look at this he said. I have never seen such a thing, surely it must be precious.” There was nothing special about it, just wood, metal, messy ink, and some kind of correction solution all in a box, it was slower, less accurate, and prone to jamming. Junk not precious, but it was to him.

“Where are these people?” I sighed, looked at the transit and city map comparing the two. Our Enclaves were neatly organized but Alba followed the topography of its cliffside home, concentric arcs terminating where the forest began. That forest had however been pushed back by refugee populations living in tent cities that she had witnessed from the Anhur on her trip in.

Civilians passed before me, endless steps on the cobblestones, echoing off the manmade and natural canyon around us. The longer I lingered there the more people off the trams stared at me. Antares’ primary finally cleared the ridgeline around 09:00 local according to the delicate watch on my wrist.

“I cannot just start asking, Can I?” There was no way that I could, Alba has swollen to become a city of almost 2 million.

Almost all Clan Enclaves were kept well under that number for security and health reasons. Kept just large enough to extract whatever resource or support whatever facility they were developed for. Expansion plans were developed beforehand by the Merchants and Scientists, but few exceeded even 100,000, and those were supporting Void manufacturing. Just this ‘small’ city was 20 times larger, for paper and water. The sheer magnitude of the Spheroid population we were responsible for began to sink into my mind. “There is no way we can accomplish REVIVAL, without COMSTAR.”

“Are you okay, Ma’am?” I snapped back. My eyelashes flecked with flurries, I blinked to clear them; then saw a teen boy, roughly late-Sibko, standing in front of me. COMSTAR’s logo behind him on their expansion’s darkened concrete husk behind him. “I am fine, just tired. This City is a bit overwhelming.”

He pointed to me speaking with concern, “Are you going to be warm enough with just this?”
‘Was I so seemingly helpless that a Sibko kid sought to tend to me, a Clan Warrior?’
“It is surprisingly warm.” I paused, reflexively pushed by coat together and evaluated his response. He relaxed slightly but still looked concerned, ‘for me?’ His jacket was maybe former military issue, perhaps his ‘father’s’ patched together with whatever bits of fabric he could manage to roughly stitch together.
“I just got it yesterday, from the department store.”

“I wish I had enough money to do that. Not much work to do for anyone though since the invasion.” He sat down beside me which caused some pedestrians to pause and stare at us, “I’m Gunther by the way.”

“Kate.” My mind raced with ideas. The first long exchange with someone that I did not fight in or besides in a Trial. “I am not from around here.”
“That is obvious. Your accent is different, Tikonov? Rasalhague? Your name probably isn’t even Kate, is it?”
‘How does he know?’
“It is not.”
“That’s fine though, I can’t judge people for doing what they can to survive. I’m sure you had to do a lot of things you weren’t proud of. Do you know anyone in town?”
An idea sparked, I unfolded the paper again, “Can you help me find them? I can pay you.”
Gunther looked at the names then toward me with some suspicion, “How much?”
“Will a thousand Kroner be enough?”
Sheer shock appeared on his face, “Sure.”
A smile appeared on mine, ‘Bargained well and done then.’

[PsihoKekec]

Given the hamfisted way Katya is doing the infiltration mission, she is going to get killed or captured, although fools do get lucky sometimes.

while catching some good pics on what Clan Occupation looks like for the Propaganda Department.

They sure hit the motherload here, ortillery destruction of a city is an excellent propaganda gain, even if population was expelled before the deed was done.

[AlphaMirage]

It wasn't ortillery. The Clans haven't deployed Warships to the front line in any but a transport and support role. All their offensive Warships are in the back lines patrolling for hostile incursions.
 
Raddick just wrecked the city the old fashioned way during the invasion, by fighting in it. Then he wanted standoff distance for his headquarters, so he forcibly relocated the population elsewhere.