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Book 1
Idealist
Like an unsung melody
The truth is waiting there for you to find it
It's not a blight, but a remedy
A clear reminder of how it began
Deep inside your memory
Turned away as you struggled to find it
You heard the call as you walked away
A voice of calm from within the silence
And for what seemed an eternity
You're waiting, hoping it would call out again
You heard the shadow reckoning
Then your fears seemed to keep you blinded
You held your guard as you walked away
When you think all is forsaken
Listen to me now (all is not forsaken)
You need never feel broken again
Sometimes darkness can show you the light
The Light, Disturbed
The prince walked between buildings familiar to him from his younger days, ghosts of his past academia greeting him. And yet there was something subtly wrong, glimpses of collegiate constructions that were not, had never been, part of the military academy he remembered.
Pausing at a fountain he found himself facing another man across the splashing water. Broad shoulders filled a dark-green uniform tunic well, the gleaming half-breastplate Sunburst vest marking it as that of the Armed Forces of the Federated Suns’ full dress uniform. The single epaulette held the silver sunbursts that marked the wearer as a Field Marshal. The same rank the prince wore.
But the prince knew all the Field Marshals of his army – not the most stringent of tests of memory – and this redheaded man, though he held himself with the presence of one who had earned such rank – was not one of them.
Who are you?
But he did not ask that. “Did you study here?”
“I did.” The redheaded man rose and walked around the fountain. “So did my brother. And you?”
“Yes. My father and his brother, my cousin and now my own son.”
A smile from the other man. “A family tradition.”
“It’s begun to be one.” And perhaps a symptom of problems – there was an alternative, after all.
“There are worse traditions.” A hand was offered to the prince. “Many happy memories of this place. Before… well.”
The prince accepted the hand. “Yes.” Before Joseph died and Uncle Richard declared me his heir. Innocent days without the weight of responsibility on my shoulders.
There were lines around the blue eyes of the field marshal and unfeigned sympathy. Some instinct for men told the prince that the uniform was no deceit.
“Walk with me?” he offered. “This isn’t quite as I remember it.”
“That must be disconcerting. By all means. To Mount Davion?”
“Yes.” My family’s home. Quite a walk but – the prince looked up at the sky. Blue and clear, a lovely summer day – one of the merits of Avalon City over some of the other great capitals of the Inner Sphere. Why the Steiners had chosen their frigid home or the Camerons the rain-soaked Pacific coast had never made sense to the prince. Mount Davion overlooked the vast and fertile plains that had been the foundation stone of the first colony here and enjoyed the fine weather that made the world a breadbasket.
As they walked, he saw new anomalies. Tall, elegantly sculpted buildings in a style he didn’t quite recognise. As if someone had expanded the academy greatly but the brief glimpses of students he saw weren’t wearing the uniforms of cadets. “That’s what I mean, where did that come from?”
The redhead followed his finger. “The College of Chemistry?” he asked.
A shake of his head as frustration rose. “If that’s what you call it.”
“Well that’s what it is.” A crease of a smile. “I should know.”
“Why would a military academy have a full college of chemistry?”
He saw understanding dawn – and recognition. “Ah. It’s a little after your time, your highness.”
“After my time? I may have graduated but I’m not that far away.” He pointed ahead to their destination. “I’ve looked at this view a thousand times and I think I’d notice additions like this.”
His companion paused and then sighed. “I’m not sure that I’m the one to explain this, but it’s a very long time since you’ve looked down on NAMA from Castle Davion.”
“Don’t talk to me in riddles, Marshal. I have enough of those to wrestle with.”
“I’m aware that you did, but that’s over now.” The redhead looked older for a moment – hair leached of colour by years of responsibility. “Your time has gone and now you haunt my dream for some reason.”
“What are you talking about?” And now he asked: “Who are you?”
“I am your descendant, sir. And I am First Prince of the Federated Suns.” They were clear of the buildings now, entering a park that stretched between the New Avalon Military Academy and the outskirts of Avalon City. “You’ve been dead for more than two hundred and fifty years.”
What was the prince to say to that? The words had conviction but they didn’t resonate with him. “I don’t believe that.”
He got a shrug. “I can understand that.” A laugh. “I wouldn’t, in your shoes.”
“This is just a dream.”
“Yes. And I’ll wake soon and have to deal with Liao’s ploy. It’s a good one. The boy’s more dangerous than I thought.” He brightened. “My son should arrive tomorrow though.”
“I mean it’s my dream.” The prince paused and examined a monument he didn’t recognise – a dog and a child; the former wounded but somehow still game, the child huddled behind the faithful hound. What could that signify? “I must have eaten something rotten to be dreaming this though.”
“Now you’re going to hurt my feelings.” The twinkle in the blue eyes suggested otherwise but he sobered and bowed his head slightly to the monument as they passed it.
“Something from these centuries you claim have passed? This -” He squinted at the inscription, which they weren’t quite close enough to read easily. “- Silver Eagle?”
“The ship carrying my wife – wife to be, back then. Patrick Kell saved her, along with many others.”
The prince paused, thinking of his own wife. “Worth a monument, then.” Was this some hint that she was in danger? No, that was ridiculous. Sometimes a dream was just a dream.
“I’d agree.” The smile that quirked at the corners of the other prince’s lips faded. “He was a good man. Like too many, he died before his time.”
“Don’t they all?” They walked together in companionable silence, the lush parklands a mix of familiar and unfamiliar to the prince. In over two centuries, he supposed that the trees would have aged and in some cases have died and been replaced. Monuments to the Star League still stood but there were others amid them.
History, to the prince, was something that stretched behind him like a heavy, constraining cloak. He’d considered once or twice that he might someday be part of the same weight upon his son’s shoulders.
I am not dead, but one day I will be. And if this is not my future then there will be a future, my legacy added to those who came before and those who follow me.
Have I done anything that will be remembered? Not so much, he admitted to himself. Perhaps that is best though. Alexander was the greatest of our line, but his reign spanned dark and terrible days. I can live without that legendary status if my people are spared such suffering.
Though the palace reared up from the heights of Mount Davion, a fairy-tale castle, its roots dug deep and there was an entrance at the edge of the park.
The arching gates seemed to ripple as he looked at them. “I think I’m about to wake up.”
“One of us is.” The redhead turned his head and looked back across the park.
“There’s no going back.”
“I know.” He extended his hand again to the prince and they shook hands again. “If it’s me that’s the dream, then give ‘em hell back in the 28th century.”
“And if it’s me, good luck with the Liao.” The prince hesitated, the warm hand in his and didn’t release it immediately. “Supposing you are the future, my future… any advice?”
Blue eyes narrowed. “Depends how old you are, I suppose.” The prince got a sense of wheels turning rapidly behind that thoughtful look. “Kill Amaris.”
“Amaris?”
His hand was empty, the gate rippling again.
Without thinking, the prince stepped forwards –
.o0O0o.
Avalon City, New Avalon
Crucis March, Federated Suns
5 May 2760
John Davion jerked awake, head pounding. Beside him, Edwina stirred and the First Prince forced himself to relax rather than wake her.
The dream… it seemed vivid in his mind, as few were. Arching his neck he could make out the clock on the far side of the bed – early in the morning. Earlier than he had wanted to rise, but too late for there to be chance of much more sleep.
Muffling a groan of resentment, he dropped a kiss on his wife’s brow and then wormed his way out of her arms, slipping a pillow into her arms as she reached out to reclaim him. Ah, the ruler of four hundred worlds is so easily replaced, he thought wryly as Edwina settled back into her slumber. So much for hubris.
Padding barefoot across the room he took a dressing gown from the back of the door and opened it carefully, closing it behind him with care. When he’d first taken office he’d found out that his uncle stationed a servant in the windowless antechamber while he slept, standing ready to provide for anything that might be needed through the night.
That had been a little more attendance than John thought necessary. He could use the phone here to call in one of the night staff if necessary, and the door should ensure he didn’t wake Edwina. It only took him a moment to order an early breakfast and despite the temptation to sink into the room’s armchair and worry about whatever duties awaited him today, he instead opened the door to the en suite bathroom.
A start on the morning’s ablutions completed and his dark hair dampened and combed back into order, John returned at a knock on the door. A small trolley laden with tantalizingly covered dishes had been brought up, and most tempting of all, a steaming carafe of fresh coffee.
He’d just turned back from closing the door when he saw he wasn’t alone in the room.
Red hair, fading to white at the temples. Bemused blue eyes. The uniform of a Field Marshal.
And sweeping one hand back and forth through the breakfast trolley, the material object posing no barrier at all to him.
The visitor to last night’s dream gave him a rueful look. “I suppose,” he said mildly, “That this shows which of us is real.”
John’s first impulse was to the door but he halted, hand still short of the knob. “What… is this a hologram? Some prank by Joshua? Or Mark?”
“I rather doubt it.” The redhead turned and pressed his hand to the door of the bathroom. “Huh.” The hand – and forearm – penetrated the door up to the elbow. “If that’s not material then how am I even standing on anything?”
“You can’t be here.”
His… guest looked up. “It doesn’t make sense to me either.” He tried to open the door and failed. “Ah, a little help?”
“What?”
“Well if I am a hologram, then the light wouldn’t penetrate the door. On the other hand, if we can see my arm on the other side.”
“Very scientific.” But John went to the bathroom door and pulled it open. They both looked, the redhead having to lean, and saw the hand and sleeve extending through it and moving freely. “Well that settles it.”
“Oh?”
“I’m still dreaming.” John went back to the trolley and poured himself some coffee. “At least I’m dreaming of good coffee.”
“Could I beg a cup?”
“Can you even drink it, o nameless figment of my imagination?”
“I have a name.” The man tried – and failed – to lift a second mug from the trolley. “Dammit. That’s cruel. I can smell that coffee.”
“What is it then?” John pulled the trolley over to his chair. Dream or not, he was hungry. The first plate had sausages and scrambled eggs, just the way he liked them.
“Hanse Davion. First Prince of the Federated Suns, Duke of New Avalon and so forth.”
“Ah!” John pointed at him with a fork. “That was a slip – the First Prince heads the Crucis March but Duke of New Avalon is a courtesy title of the First Star Lord’s heir.”
“So it was – in your day.”
“My delusion has an aggravated sense of grandeur.”
Hanse shrugged. “Are you sure you’re dreaming? Give yourself a pinch.”
John chewed on some sausage. “If I am dreaming, I’ll enjoy my breakfast first.” He refilled his mug, giving Hanse a sly look.
The other man gave him a patient look. “What, you expect me to pout like a child? Yes, I’d like to have some coffee. It seems I can’t. It’s not the fall of the Star League.”
“Yes…” The prince scratched at his chin, still wearing the night’s stubble. Then he pinched his lower lip between finger and thumb. The pain wasn’t great but it was real.
Not a dream. He swallowed. Madness?
“A madman would not question what he was seeing,” Hanse offered in reassurance.
“This may be just another day for you -”
“It’s really not,” the other man answered in a lowered voice.
“- but it’s a bit outside my experience. Do you know what happens to rulers who talk to people that aren’t there? And if you’re not a figment of my imagination why did you know what I was thinking there?”
“You weren’t exactly being subtle about pinching yourself and going wide-eyed in worry.” Hanse walked into the bathroom.
“What are you doing?”
“Call of supernature.”
“What?”
“No, I’m just looking out the window.”
“It’s frosted. You won’t see anything.”
“I can if I put my head through it. Not much of a view though.”
“Well since no one expected a ghost to be looking out, I suppose the architect wasn’t concerned about you looking out into…” John tailed off, thinking what would be visible from there. “The back of the administrative wing.”
“Fair point.” Hanse returned. “You could at least offer me a chair.”
John arched an eyebrow. “Feel free to pull one up.”
The older man – by appearances, at any rate – scowled and then laughed. “Well, I’d not take it any better I suppose. Do you mind if I at least ask the date?”
“Fifth of May,” John replied between two forkfuls of egg. He added more pepper to what remained on the plate and then thought to add. “2760. What was it for you?”
“3052, the sixteenth of June. Well, maybe seventeenth. I think I saw my son for a moment – I’d fallen asleep in my chair before.” Hanse shook his head. “It’s a bit confused…”
John watched him thinking. “So you’re dead?”
“I assume so.” Hanse rubbed his face. “Excuse me, I do need to sit down. I’ll be back.”
“Wait!” John called as Hanse stepped towards the bedroom door. “My wife’s asleep there,” he hissed. “Go down the hall. There’s a lounge two doors down.”
“Thanks.” Hanse turned and departed through the door to the corridor.
As soon as he was out of sight, John dropped his fork and buried his face in his hands. “Oh hell. What am I going to do now? I can’t be haunted. I have work to do!”
Setting his plate aside he poured himself another mug of coffee and added two sugars. He had a feeling he’d need the energy. Setting it aside he opened the door for the trolley to be collected. “Did someone go past here?” he asked the guard.
“No sir.” the man replied in surprise.
“I thought I heard something. I must not be fully awake yet,” John excused. He glanced at the carafe on the trolley. “If you want some of the coffee before it’s taken away, go right ahead.”
“Thank you sir, but I’m on duty.” Which meant needing both hands unobstructed in case assassins – or almost worse, the media – had somehow managed to penetrate all the other layers of security around the royal quarters.
“And even the First Prince can’t excuse you?”
“Respectfully, your highness, have you met my sergeant?”
John chuckled. “You make a fair point, Corporal. Sorry for putting temptation in your way.”
Leaving the door open, John picked up the phone and called for his valet. A shave and getting fully dressed might help him get past the literal and metaphorical headache of having a self-proclaimed future descendant turn up as a… ghost?
A ghost who apparently had issues with House Liao and House Amaris. Well, neither represented John’s closest friends by any stretch of the imagination.
.o0O0o.
Hanse was sitting in one of the lounge armchairs when John entered. Although he was facing the balcony door that looked out into the gardens around the Hall of State, his eyes seemed to be focused on something else – something far away.
Looking him over, John saw he wore the same uniform that he had in last night’s dream. A Field Marshal’s, which suggested that the man was upholding the informal custom of a First Prince not wearing the additional sword on his sunburst that marked him as the supreme commander of the AFFS. He also saw Mechwarrior’s spurs that he hadn’t noticed earlier. Still, he’d have been surprised by anything else.
“I don’t have long,” he advised quietly. “If you’re who you say you are, you know how much time my duties take up. And I can’t speak to you when anyone else is around.”
Hanse nodded. “I need some time anyway, to process.”
“I suppose you do.” Being dead, John thought, must be a shock to the system. “If you want to talk about it, sometime, I’ll make the time.”
“Thanks.”
“Family should look out for each other. Even if we’re generations removed.”
The other man nodded. “And you’ll have questions as well.”
“I don’t know. It’s not as if I have precedent for what to do in this situation. It’s never happened before.”
“Perhaps it happens all the time and people just never talk about it, not wanting to be locked up as a danger to themselves.”
John considered and then snorted. “I can understand the sentiment, but if more people had… advice from the future, the universe might make more sense.”
“It might at that.” Hanse sighed. “And yes, I understand you’re busy.” He grasped the arms of the chair and began to push himself upright only to freeze. “Wait!”
Turning back from the door, the First Prince looked back questioningly.
“May 2760… is Warex Liao dead?”
“Yes… First of the month. I just sent condolences to his daughter.” He grimaced at the thought – Warex was no friend to the Federated Suns but the new Chancellor, Barbara Liao, had lost her father on her birthday. At twenty-nine she was only a few years older than John had been when he took office.
Hanse looked grim. “And it’s the fifth, four days later. You need to send word to Demeter.”
“Demeter? Why, what are you expecting?” John called to mind what he knew of the world – at the head of a salient into Capellan space it was a valuable hub of trade and industry. Before the Star League the region had been hotly contested for years but that was long ago.
“On 5 May – today! – the ‘Mech factory there is nuked by terrorists,” Hanse told him urgently. “If you send an HPG message then perhaps it can be stopped.”
John paled. “Who? Why?”
“I don’t recall exactly – some pro-Capellan group. Chesterton… Liberation Brigade? Something like that.” He shook his head. “I don’t know if they have official sanction or not but it hardly matters with all the raiding going on.”
He wasn’t wrong, the younger man had to admit. Banditry had been on the rise for years despite the best efforts of the SLDF and although everyone involved covered their tracks it was an open secret that some pirate groups were backed – or even set up covertly – by the House Lords so they could deniably test the defences of their rivals. “You’re sure?”
“It was something of a high point – or low point perhaps – in the violence during Richard Cameron’s regency.” Hanse shook his head. “A sign of things to come.”
“I don’t have any evidence to back this up…” John said out loud. “I’ll order… an unscheduled alert drill. Bring all the forces in the region to standby and secure critical facilities. The Regent will give me hell, but if we find the bomb that should satisfy him.”
He opened the door and was surprised to see Edwina facing him, her hand raised to knock.
“Good morning.”
His wife leaned in to kiss his cheek. “I didn’t want to interrupt your meeting, but I’m leaving now.”
“It’s not a meeting, and you’re welcome to join me for anything,” John assured her.
“Oh, I thought I heard you talking to someone?” Edwina glanced in and John had to hide a twitch as she looked right at Hanse, but her eyes scanned past the redhead without seeming to notice him at all.
“Just to myself. Rehearsing a little before I speak to the High Command.”
“Is there trouble? I know you woke early…”
He shook his head. “No new messages, I just didn’t sleep well.”
“You could have woken me.”
He forced himself to laugh a little. “But you looked so peaceful.”
“If only we all were.” She smiled impishly and kissed him on the other cheek. “Anyway, I have the Equestrian Show to attend and you’ve the High Command so I suppose we’ve both got horses asses to attend to today. I’ll expect to see you at dinner?”
“No change to plans for that,” John reassured her. “Joshua and Mark still have leave to join us – unless they did something irresponsible since yesterday.”
“I wouldn’t put it past those two.”
.o0O0o.
John almost started as he saw Hanse entering the command centre. Buried deep beneath the mountains of which Mount Davion was only the easternmost, the AFFS command centre was as secure as it could possibly be. Seeing someone who shouldn’t be there – although in a Field Marshal’s uniform he fit in perfectly – wasn’t an everyday occurrence.
“Is something wrong?” asked Colonel Michael Stopec from his seat at John’s right hand.
Realising he’d broken off, John turned back to the question at hand. “The change of Chancellor is exactly why I’ve ordered a full alert of our forces around Chesterton, General Dixon. It’s the perfect excuse for anyone acting at the moment – even if we proved that orders for an attack had come from Sian, they can claim there was a ‘misunderstanding’ caused by turnover of personnel as Barbara Liao takes over from her father’s old guard. She could even scapegoat some courtier she wants rid of.”
Gabriel Dixon frowned and twisted on his moustache. “What a twisted motive. I don’t envy you and MilInt getting inside of their heads.”
“Hopefully nothing actually happens, but I don’t feel it’s a chance that can be taken. And Chesterton’s our most likely flashpoint.”
That got nods around the table. John saw Hanse looking at the displays on the wall, constantly updating data on the strength and dispositions of the AFFS. Since Simon Cameron’s untimely death nine years before, the Star League Council had taken the opportunity to repeal the arms limitations that kept their individual military strength in check. Since then, troop numbers in service had risen sharply. While still nothing approaching the vast size of the Star League Defense Forces, the Federated Suns had doubled the regiments in active service and brought more than a score of warships out of mothballs to match their understanding of what the Capellans and Draconians had stationed on their borders.
“Do you want to review contingencies for moving reinforcements to the region if needed?” asked Dixon.
“I’m confident you have that in hand.” John already had the data on hand though – Dixon would be taking the lead if that were the case, leading a regiment of BattleMechs from the Avalon Hussars as well as a dozen conventional regiments to reinforce threatened worlds, taking over the local regiments. It could place him in charge of the equivalent of almost a short corps of troops.
“We could always add the Fourth,” Stopec rumbled. “That would give the reinforcement teeth.”
On paper, the Colonel was outranked by everyone else in the room. Command of only a single regiment of the Davion Guards was far from the responsibilities that others wielded – but as the Prince’s Champion he was also John’s deputy for military affairs. He could have asked for the rank of Marshal or even Field Marshal and been given it without question – but Stopec loved his regiment and his only request when John offered him the job was that he be allowed to remain in command of the Dragon’s Bane.
John saw General Dixon clenching his fists at the prospect of being superseded. “No Michael. We shouldn’t commit all our reserves and I want you with the primary response if the Combine try anything. They’re still the larger threat.”
Stopec subsided and the discussion moved on to more mundane matters – training budgets, personnel choices for the many roles that needed to be filled in order to continue administering a military force spread across hundreds of light years. John allowed his attention to drift, watching Hanse who seemed to be examining every display in detail.
I wonder what he makes of it. Is the AFFS still so large or have things settled down? Then again, after two and a half centuries some of this may seem laughably antiquated to him.
Then an intake of air from beside John dragged his attention back and he saw Stopec’s eyes – golden cybernetics after he’d been blinded by environmental damage to his ‘Mech in the Martial Olympiad – had snapped the central holo-display, where the tabulated data had been replaced by a glowing sword and sunburst highlighted in amber. An urgent operational message.
At John’s nod – there was no one in the room not cleared for such (except Hanse, but John wasn’t exactly in a position to shoo him away even if he was so inclined) – Stopec opened the communique.
The First Prince’s guts clenched as he saw the message was from Demeter. Had his instructions even arrived there yet?
Sent in plain text, easier to encode, the message was stark. A nuclear device, somehow smuggled past all security checkpoints, had vaporised the core of Lycomb Technology’s MechWorks on Demeter. More than a hundred personnel were dead or missing, easily twice that many had been wounded. Production was halted, naturally, and responsibility had been claimed already with messages to the local media from the Chesterton Liberation Battalion, a known group claiming that Demeter and the worlds around it were rightful property of the Capellan Confederation.
“****** them!” Dixon’s fist hit the table, it would have shaken something less solidly built. “You were right, sire. But a nuke? A filthy nuke!”
John swallowed and looked down the table to Thomas Green-Davion – the senior officer present in terms of experience in the Capellan March – and behind him at Hanse. “I find it hard to believe that a ragtag group of terrorists could have a nuclear device,” he told them, forcing calm. “While I expect a full check by Military Intelligence, barring evidence to confirm otherwise we – I – must assume that it was provided by the Capellans.”
“We can’t let that stand, sir.” Green-Davion straightened his uniform. “There are SLDF division both sides of the border, if we call for them to investigate.”
“The way they did thirty years ago?” Opposite John’s distant cousin, Dixon pushed his chair back. “They did nothing for years when Kurita was trying to force his filthy half-breed cousin onto our Prince’s throne! We can’t look to them for justice.”
“I believe General Kerensky would like to, Gabriel.” John raised his hand. “But he isn’t First Lord – even as Regent, he can’t over-ride the Star League Council if they tell him to back off. And the chances of getting four – or even three – votes in favour of such an intervention are slim. We will try, but get your regiments loaded for transit to…” He looked at a map display. “To Goshen. Expedite that.”
“Not Demeter?” asked Stopec respectfully.
“Local forces can provide disaster relief at Goshen,” the First Prince replied. “I’m not sending General Dixon’s regiments for that.”
Dixon leant forwards eagerly. “Then what are my orders, sire?”
“For now, just to redeploy to Goshen. By the time you’re there, I’ll have heard from the rest of the Council. And if we can’t count on the SLDF for this, you’ll have new instructions.” John hadn’t expected to be saying this when he woke up this morning. Not even when Hanse warned him, had this occurred to him, but he could feel the anger in the room and knew that it would be shared by the rest of the Suns.
They’d been attacked and would want revenge. It wasn’t necessarily the right answer, he thought, but it was the only one his responsibilities allowed. The Federated Suns could not allow this to pass without response.
“In that case,” he said steadily, “The instructions will be for punitive operations in the Capellan Confederation.”
Sidebar: The Star League
"One species, one government."
By the late twenty-sixth century, all but a statistically insignificant percentage of humanity lived within one of ten great interstellar states. In the centre was House Cameron's Terran Hegemony, surrounded by the other five states of the Inner Sphere, in clockwise order: House Kurita's Draconis Combine, House Davion's Federated Suns, House Liao's Capellan Confederation, House Marik's Free Worlds League and House Steiner's Lyran Commonwealth. On the periphery of human space were four other realms: House Avellar's Outworlds Alliance, House Calderon's Taurian Concordat, House Centralla's Magistracy of Canopus and House Amaris' Rim Worlds Republic.
After more than a decade of diplomacy, Ian Cameron welded the six inner sphere states into the Star League, an alliance intended to put an end to the wars that had plagued the last two hundred years and to bring greater prosperity to all mankind. Three years later, with the four Periphery Realms showing no interest in joining the Star League (except Gregory Amaris, who was promptly confined on grounds of being both a power-mad dictator and a Terran shill) and a pronounced lack of the promised economic boom, the Star League informed the Periphery that they would join, or else.
The Reunification War lasted twenty years and was fought with unparalleled brutality, but it cemented the Star League as the united government of mankind and the four periphery states as conquered territories. Under the leadership of Ian Cameron and other foresightful leaders, a golden age of peace and prosperity dawned.
Almost two hundred years later, the future does not look so rosy...
-
Avalon City, New Avalon
Crucis March, Federated Suns
8 May 2760
“My lord, I appeal to you in the name of our common humanity. I share your pain at the destruction upon Demeter, but the responsibility does not lie with my revered Lady Liao.”
John raised his hand to cut off the words of the Capellan ambassador. While the Scots-Irish wasn’t the most noted demographic in worlds of the Capellan Hegemony, they were wide-spread enough that Warex Liao had found one – even found one with a mix of French ancestry – to represent him on New Avalon. Under other circumstances, John might even like the man but right now Javier McNeill’s maternal ancestry was inclining him towards volubility and one more filibuster might be too much for the First Prince’s patience.
“Your excellency, it has been the policy of Lady Liao – even before her father’s sad demise – to encourage what she has described as ‘the aspirations of the oppressed Chesterton people’ in public despite the fact that Chesterton remains under the rule of families descended from their original colonists and that they were incorporated into the Suns long before the Capellan Confederation ever came to be.”
“But Prince Da-”
John leant forwards. “Ambassador, I did not call you here to speak. Since you were appointed by the late Chancellor, I understand you have no mandate from his daughter. But you can hear me and you can relay my words to your new mistress.”
McNeill bowed his head. “My apologies, your highness.”
“Perhaps, now that she bears the weight of the Confederation, Lady Barbara will be more restrained. But unfortunately it is too late to avoid this going further. My military intelligence have an existing file on the Chesterton Liberation Battalion, you see.”
“I would never assume anything less.”
Activating a control, John brought up a head and shoulders display of a man in his twenties. “This is Edgar Borlenko. One of the ‘oppressed’ Chesterton people who decided to cross the border and from the Suns and take employment in the Confederation. Which is his right as a Star League citizen, although given his background is middle class and his family can be traced to Kestrel on one side and Terra itself on the other as recently as the middle of the last century, I’m not clear on how he’s oppressed or Chestertonian.”
He cleared the screen. “Mr Borlenko has been positively identified as a member of the CLB and as with all their known members, he’s now subject of a manhunt. But between his departure from the Suns for Capellan space and his return as part of CLB, would you care to know who employed him?”
“I really couldn’t say,” McNeill answered with a resigned dip of his head.
“The Maskirova,” John answered. “The Capellan state intelligence agency hired the man, trained him… and now he’s on one of my worlds claiming credit for the deaths of over a hundred people. That would be quite the coincidence if the Capellan government is entirely uninvolved.”
“Obviously I have no knowledge and could not offer any response.”
The First Prince nodded. “I fully understand.” He allowed his shoulders to relax. “I don’t believe for a minute you have any personal involvement in this, Ambassador McNeill. But this matter cannot be allowed to rest.”
“Perhaps independent adjudication could be arranged?”
“I placed that very proposal in front of the Star League Council yesterday.” John steepled his fingers. “General Kerensky indicated he was prepared to enforce martial law on Demeter and put the full resources of Star League Intelligence into investigating this. All he required was the support of both myself and the Chancellor – or failing that, a majority vote of the Star League Council to authorise those actions.”
“I’m sure that you understand that my lady’s position as a newly appointed Chancellor would be undermined if her first action was to place herself in a vulnerable position with regard to outside authorities.”
The ambassador’s response was met with a cold expression. “I am aware that a leader must sometimes bend to the demands of those they lead. And for that reason, please also advise the Chancellor that unless she changes her mind regarding this matter that I will yield to certain demands from my people. You’ll have seen those demands on placards in the streets outside your embassy earlier.”
From the way his eyes darkened, McNeill had. “Respectfully, Prince Davion, you are discussing war.”
“Yes.”
There was a long, ugly moment of silence before the ambassador stood. “As you said, I am here to listen and not to speak. I believe I have heard you out.”
John nodded.
“Pray remember, for the sake of your people, that the last time two Star League states went to war, it did not end well for the aggressors.”
“Wars don’t usually end well for anyone, ambassador. I wish you well on your journey to Sian.” John rose but didn’t offer his hand. “If you aren’t reappointed, I also wish you well in your future career.”
“I regret that under the current circumstances I can offer no similar well-wishes for your own endeavours.”
John waited until the doors had closed behind McNeill before tapping his intercom. “Owen, do I have any other appointments in the next hour or so?”
“No sire,” his secretary replied. “We cleared most of the afternoon for the ambassador and for the High Command meeting.”
“Right. Please advise Colonel Stopec that he’ll be chairing the High Command meeting in my absence. I need some time to think.”
“That leaves you clear until 17:30, sire.”
“Right – getting ready for General Dixon’s farewell dinner.” John shook his head. “I’ll take what I can get then, Owen. If you clear what’s on your desk before then you can take the rest of the day off – I won’t subject you to that and we might not get many breaks in the next few months.”
“I’ll see how that goes then, sire. Do have a good evening.”
John cut the intercom and then activated the security procedures that isolated his office electronically. “Fat chance of that.”
“Three days and he hasn’t even set off?” Hanse Davion had been sitting quietly in one of the chairs at the back of his office. Now he stood and moved to take the one that McNeill had been in. “I’ve got a few concerns about General Dixon.”
“Most of his force is on the way.” John realised he was being defensive and took a breath. “There aren’t enough jump-ship collars for everything to leave at once anyway, someone had to be last and it makes sense for him not to depart until everything’s in motion.”
“That’s a chief of staff’s job – the commander should be in the lead.”
The prince tilted his head side to side. “Arguable. Anyway, I’m sorry I haven’t had time for us to really talk until now.”
“There have been other priorities,” Hanse agreed calmly. “And I’ve had other things on my mind.”
“Your family,” offered John sympathetically.
After a deep breath, Hanse met his gaze evenly. “Victor has a good head on his shoulders. I’d have preferred it if we had longer to prepare him, but it is what it is. He’s got friends to stand by him, and Melissa’s a very able woman.”
“Does that help?”
“A little. Wondering if there are other things I should have said or done. Nothing I haven’t wondered before.”
“What’s the 31st century like? I assume from what you’ve mentioned so far that the Liao are still making trouble.”
“Oh yes, they’re very motivated about that.” Hanse bared his teeth. “Some of them, at least. Oddly enough, one of them is probably Victor’s best friends. Unfortunately his cousin’s the new Chancellor and that one’s an inventive little bastard. He’d just sent me notice that he was engaged to marry the Captain-General’s daughter.”
John winced. “Well, maybe it’ll go as well for them as it did for my great-aunt and my grandfather.”
“Not all marriages between Great Houses end poorly.”
“Name one.”
“Mine.” The redhead folded his arms. “My wife Melissa is Archon of the Lyran Commonwealth.”
“Oh.” John frowned at the idea. The Commonwealth and the Suns had rarely had much to do with each other – Lyran space was on the far side of the Terran Hegemony so communication had historically been indirect. Which wasn’t to say they hadn’t had some fruitful co-operation in the past. “How did the Star League Council take that?”
Hanse leant back in the chair. “The Star League is gone, John.”
“Gone?”
“Disbanded, destroyed…” He held his hands together and then moved them apart, spreading his fingers to simulate an explosion. “Dead. And we’ve spent generations fighting over its corpse. My wedding was the first time in two hundred and forty-seven years – almost to the day – that all five of the great lords were even in the same room at once.”
John swallowed. Almost two hundred and fifty years – and Hanse said that by his time I’d been dead around that long. “You don’t mean sometime between our lives, you mean… now. In my lifetime.”
He got a nod in reply. “Nineteenth August, 2781. It’s one of the dates every school child is taught. The day the Star League Council disbanded.”
“But why!” The question erupted from his throat. “I know we’re having our frictions but…”
“Most people in my time blame Stefan Amaris.” Hanse looked thoughtful. “It’s probably a little convenient – God knows, he deserves a lot of blame – but it’s easier than admitting that the fault lies with our predecessors. You and the other four members of the Council.”
“Why do you say four, five I mean? There are ten seats on the Council – six even if you just count the voting members.”
Hanse sighed. “Because there was no Cameron left to take his seat, to be First Star Lord. And none of you – none of you – could agree on a replacement. You all had a candidate in mind, you see, and there was no compromising. The Council disbanded… and the matter went to the final courtroom of kings, the battlefield.”
Who won? John realised the answer before he wasted time asking: no one. If they had then there would have been a League. “How long did that last?”
“It might be over in my time. Maybe. There’s no new Star League but I thought Theodore Kurita and Thomas Marik might be sensible enough to realise there probably wasn’t any point fighting over that. Then again, I didn’t think Marik would be open to a Liao marriage offer…”
“You… never stopped fighting? Another age of war, like before the Star League.”
“Oh no.” Hanse shook his head. “It was much, much worse than that.”
John stood, walked to a discreet cabinet and produced a bottle of bourbon. Filling a glass he returned to his seat. “Alright. Tell me.”
“Pour another glass first.”
“You can’t drink, Hanse.”
“I meant for you. Actually, just bring the whole bottle.”
.o0O0o.
The dinner for the departing Twelfth Avalon Hussars was fulsome. Drink flowed heavily among the Mechwarrior officers and John regretted the bourbon earlier, watering his drinks and even then restraining himself to sips.
“They’re a fine body of men,” Dixon assured him from the head table where they were sat. “We’ll show the Capellans what for.”
“Good.” He was trying to show quiet confidence in his men, but it was hard. Hanse was present, leaning against the wall and watching the room darkly. The tale that the man had spun in the afternoon was hard to take on but one thing that had come through clearly was a conviction that the AFFS wasn’t ready for war.
Unaware of these dark thoughts, the General raised his own glass. “A toast, to our noble prince and his gracious lady.”
Around the room, men and women found glasses – sometimes not even their own and drank to that.
Obligated to return, John looked at his own glass and searched for words that wouldn’t betray him. Fortunately, Edwina caught his mood and rested one hand on his in restraint. Taking her own glass she stood. “I thank you all. And may I in turn offer my own toast – to your swift, safe and victorious return.”
“Aye!” came a chorus of acclamation.
“Thank you,” John murmured.
She gave a direct look at the man on the other side of John and thankfully Dixon was sufficiently attuned to court that he gave them room, stepping aside with a winked excuse of visiting the smallest room.
“You’re thinking of your father, aren’t you?”
“Something like that,” he affirmed.
Edwina could have promised him it would be different now, that the Armed Forces of the Federated Suns had been improved vastly from the force that Joseph Davion had led to repel the Combine’s Mustered Soldiery. But it wouldn’t have mattered to the nine year old boy he’d been when he’d learned his father wouldn’t be returning so she didn’t waste her breath.
Instead she looked down the room and then back at him. “I’m glad it’s now and not later. Joshua has another year at the academy or he’d be sure to demand a place on the frontlines.”
A chill went through John at the thought. Many of the Mechwarriors were barely older than his heir. But she was right. And… “There’s no certainty this will be done before he’s old enough.”
“Don’t tell me that.”
“I -”
“I know… but I have a year to hope that this will be over quickly.”
John nodded. “I understand. I hope so too.”
“Make it happen, John. Please.”
“I will do all I can.” He hid the weakness of his smile behind his glass, barely tasting the contents. “If you want to make excuses, then you don’t have to stay.”
“And leave you here with no support?”
Dixon returned and Hanse left the wall, moving to stand behind John. “They’re good troops, John. Don’t doubt the men and women down there.” The redheaded man paused and then circled his hand to gesture around him – at the high table. “Worry about whether the officers up here will let them down.”
Restraining the urge to look back at Hanse, John turned to General Dixon. “I’ll be leaving shortly – I need a good night’s sleep before meeting with the High Command to plan our overall strategy.”
“Of course, sire. I understand.” From the respectful look Dixon was giving Edwina, John doubted it but he let that go.
“There’s no higher responsibility I can place in anyone’s hands than the leadership of our soldiers in battle. I’m placing a great weight on your shoulders.”
“You’ve nothing to worry about, Prince Davion. I’ll give the Capellans the beating they deserve. The Liao won’t dare trifle with us a second time.”
John hoped his face didn’t give away how little that reassured him. Hanse’s face was a mask and he doubted that it was hiding approval.
.o0O0o.
Balbadd Valley, Valexa
Sarna Commonality, Capellan Confederation
16 July 2760
Given any choice on the matter, Susan wouldn’t have chosen the rice paddies that dominated the valley floor as a battlefield. The wet ground sucked at the feet of their ‘Mechs any time they stepped off the relatively narrow roads raised above the well-irrigated paddies – and if they stayed on the roads then they would be leaving themselves essentially without cover.
“Where the hell’s our relief!”
That’s what I want to know. “It’s on the way,” she answered Smythe’s complaint with all the confidence she could muster.
The attack had looked fine on paper – impromptu battle groups combining tanks, infantry and ‘Mechs were supposed to be sweeping down each of the river valleys leading to Leim City, where the rivers converged into a single more significant waterway. Taking the city would cut off a major transport node and let General Dixon – ‘Wang’ Dixon, the troops called him when officers were out of sight – trap the Sixteenth Liao Lancers and force their surrender.
There was a chirp from her communications panel and she accepted a private transmission from Sergeant Greaney. “Ma’am,” the grizzled sergeant advised. “The relief’s been ‘on the way’ for longer than it took us to get down here the first time. If we’re going to get out of here before the Chink artillery arrives, it’s going to be our own doing.”
“You’re probably right, Gav. But I don’t have any clever ideas. Do you?”
“Well we could shoot Smythe ourselves, to keep him from yapping, but that would probably be frowned upon.”
Susan was surprised she still had a laugh in her. “That’s a negative on friendly fire. Right now, the best idea I have is someone providing a diversion for the rest of the company to get away.”
“Just don’t try to be a lone hero in that, Lieutenant. Remember, Smythe’s life rests on me not being left in charge.”
Company was perhaps too strong a word. Battle Group Shadow had been made up of eleven ‘Mechs from Echo Company of Second Arcadian Cuirassiers, ten Manticore heavy tanks from the Seventh Panpour Panzer Regiment and three platoons of the 86th Light Infantry in hover APCs.
Nine of the tanks were probably forty kilometres behind them at the far end of the valley, right where they’d broken off once it was clear that the road’s bridges couldn’t bear the weight of them and the paddy floors were too soft for their tracks to get any traction. One of the tanks had been the price of that lesson.
Captains Abney and Cooke had pressed on though with just infantry and ‘Mechs. They probably wouldn’t have been able to push onto Leim City alone, but if they’d secured the town of Balbadd (whether the valley or town had been named first, Susan didn’t know) then they likely could have hung on and linked up with one of the other attacks.
If.
Assuming that either captain had had a contingency plan, neither had confided it to Leftenant Susan Sandoval, who now enjoyed the privilege of command over six Dervish BattleMechs with near empty LRM magazines and five infantry squads. Not one of the personnel carriers had survived the fusillade of fire from Balbadd as they tried to rush in under covering fire from the ‘Mechs.
The same fire was engaging anyone who tried to retreat back to the next embankment so that left the little force trapped. It was only a matter of time before the Capellans brought in reinforcements.
Susan glanced back at the road behind them. The promised relief force would be coming down there… but there was a pronounced lack of movement or other signs of them. Just the first of the APCs to be destroyed.
Her eyes narrowed. The armoured hover tank was actually more or less intact – shots had damaged one of the side-skirts as well as taking out part of the road it had been following. The result had flipped the ten ton vehicle over on its roof, as well as half-burying it in the paddy.
“Smythe,” she instructed. “Crawl your ‘Mech back and see if you can drag the APC that up-ended over to us.”
“Why?”
If the Mechwarrior hadn’t also started to back her Dervish towards the hovercraft, Susan might have shot her. “Because it might be our way out of here.”
“You won’t get all the infantry aboard her.”
“I’m not trying to. But it might be the diversion we need.”
Keeping her own Dervish crouched so as not to draw fire, she waded over to Smythe’s position. Waves kicked up reached where infantry were crouched on the rear of the embankment. While she couldn’t hear them cursing, she didn’t think they were thanking her.
Switching to the infantry frequency she looked for the effective leader remaining from the company. “Sergeant Watsuki. We’re recovering one of the APCs. Have someone check to see if it’s working, please.”
The sergeant – who didn’t look at all oriental – gave her a terse acknowledgement and picked to men to help him take care of the task. There was another wave of water as Smythe tipped the personnel carrier over, and it sank into the water, the ruptured plenum chamber flooding immediately.
Despite this, Watsuki seemed surprisingly upbeat about the vehicle’s prospects. “It’ll be a devil to drive, but the plenum chambers are redundant – as long as four of the six are intact it should be able to move.”
“And can it be set up to drive a pre-set course without anyone in it?”
The sergeant frowned. “We can set it off, but with the damage it’s anyone’s guess how close it’ll stick to the desired course.”
Susan felt a flood of relief. “That’s all I wanted to know, Sergeant. Get any salvageable kit out of the troop compartment and get the men ready to move. We’ll be retreating shortly.”
Less than five minutes work prepared them for the retreat. Most of that was spent getting the six worst wounded of the infantry up and into the ‘Mech cockpits, where they had to squeeze in behind the Mechwarriors.
Watsuki handed Susan a remote while her canopy was open. “Working with what I have,” he explained. “It’s all wired up. Just click twice to set it off and for god’s sake, keep the ride as smooth as you can.”
“Smooth is one thing I can’t promise, Sergeant. But it’s the only chance I can see short of surrender and I’ve heard some nasty things about Capellan prisoner of war camps.”
“Probably the same stories I’ve heard. I’d rather not find out for real.” He saluted and closed the canopy for her to lock down.
“Sound off that you’re ready to go,” Susan ordered.
There were five ayes, which was good enough for her. “Smythe, put it up.”
With a heave, Smythe’s ‘Mech lifted the front of the recovered APC and dragged it up onto the embankment. “Good as I can get it, ma’am.”
“Then it’ll have to do.” Susan clicked the remote twice.
For a moment nothing seemed to happen but then, just as she was about to query Watsuki, the hovercraft’s fans kicked into gear and lifted the skirts up and off the ground. The little – at least compared to the 55 ton Dervish – vehicle seemed to hesitate and then it accelerated up the slope, cresting and tipping over with a thump.
The impact seemed to jam the personnel carrier for a moment and the staccato bellow of an autocannon warned that it had been seen. Susan swallowed. If it was stuck then it was too close and…
The fans revved harder and the hover APC tore free, rushing forwards towards Belbadd.
More weapons opened up and Susan prayed to the God of her ancestors that the damage to the skirt would make it sufficiently unpredictable as to not be hit immediately.
Five seconds, ten seconds, fifteen…
Then sound and fire hammered into the air as something penetrated the little craft’s armour and hit what they’d prepared – almost half a ton of SRMs unloaded from the Dervishes and crammed into the infantry compartment.
“Go! Go! Go!”
Susan straightened her Dervish and ran for the next embankment back followed by the rest of the ‘Mechs, each clutching four or five men against their chests.
Stray shots chased them and Susan almost missed the embankment, focused on looking at the corners of her compressed 360 degree display for shots that might hit her vulnerable rear armour. Her ‘Mech lurched awkwardly as she adjusted and scrambled up it and made for the next.
.o0O0o.
The tanks were gone by the time they reached the head of the valley. Fortunately they found a farm truck that with minimal hotwiring could be used for the infantry – Susan suspected that if any of them had ever been impressed with the glamour of BattleMechs they’d gotten over it after the rough ride up the valley.
There was also absolutely no sign of a relief force.
“It’s a good job you pulled back,” Major Barnes told Susan wearily when she made contact on the radio. “We were going to swing Delta Company or Foxtrot Company around to take Balbadd from behind once they broke through -”
“Let me guess, neither of them managed that.”
“No, Leftenant.” The major didn’t add any weight to her rank. “Not for lack of trying, but they didn’t. I asked General Dixon’s staff to pull some other regiments in to help you but I haven’t had a response yet. I guess I can tell them to cancel that request.”
Susan bit back any further complaints. “Is it like this all over, sir?”
“Well we’re not winning, yet.” There was a break in the conversation and for a moment Susan thought they’d lost contact before Barnes spoke again: “Escort the infantry back to their regiment, Leftenant, and then report back to our firebase.”
“Understood, sir. I’ll be there… probably around midnight.”
“I’ll tell the techs to be waiting. We’ll need your ‘Mechs ready to fight again.”
Sunset, in the mountains, came swiftly. Watsuki lit up the road with the truck’s one working headlight while the ‘Mechs tramped along flanking him, hoping that anyone spotting them would miss the hulking Dervishes in contrast to the cone of light that preceded the infantry.
Fortunately they didn’t encounter anyone on the road but the first sign they had of the infantry was a SRM that came corkscrewing out of the darkness towards Greaney’s ‘Mech.
“Ambush!” snapped Smythe and fired her jump jets, the Dervish vaulting upwards as Watsuki responded to the attack by driving the truck into the ditch, half-pitching it over in the process.
Susan was about to fire on the source of the missile but the orange light of the jump jets lit up a familiar helmet shape. “Hold fire!” she screamed. “They’re AFFS!”
For a moment she thought the lance would ignore her, but for a wonder even Smythe kept her finger off the triggers.
Switching to speakers, Susan spread her ‘Mech’s arms. “Cease fire, we’re with the Second Cuirassiers!”
The man she’d spotted dived into the shadows and infra-red sensors suggested there were more men – and more missile launchers out there. No one fired though and after what seemed like forever but was probably only a couple of minutes, a jeep arrived carrying someone in authority.
In fact, it was the Eighty-Sixth’s colonel. “We’ve seen more hostile ‘Mechs than friendlies,” he said unapologetically. “Earlier today we got lucky and the Seventh Panpour had some tanks near enough to support us. Otherwise we need to rely on ambushes like this.”
“I hadn’t heard Capellan raiders were pushing through the lines.”
He laughed bitterly. “Lines is too strong a word. Thanks for bring Watsuki and the wounded back. Did Captain Abney give you any idea when the rest of the company will be sent back to us?”
Susan’s face must have given him the answer because the Colonel’s expression congealed before she could say anything.
“I sent almost a hundred men with you this morning, Leftenant! What the hell use are you mechjocks if you can’t support my men?”
“Sir.” Watsuki didn’t salute – that would have been a major breach of regs in the field – but his stance was parade ground attention. “Captain Abney led us into the mess. The leftenant got us out.”
Energy seemed to drain out of the infantry officer. “Right. My apologies, leftenant.”
“You’re not really any madder than I was, sir.” Susan looked up at her ‘Mech, feeling a strong urge to get back to the security of the cockpit. “I don’t know if I can do anything about getting you better support against the Capellans but I’ll tell Major Barnes what you said.”
“That would be appreciated, Leftenant. Doubly appreciated if anything comes of it – but I’ll not hold my breath.”
.o0O0o.
Avalon City, New Avalon
Crucis March, Federated Suns
3 August 2760
The maps of three worlds lit up the central table of the planning centre, marked with gold for the positions of AFFS units and green for reported locations of Capellan forces.
“According to General Dixon, he’s outnumbered almost two to one by the Capellan Armed Forces.” Stopec pulled up a forces display. “Military Intelligence disagree – by their count the frontline regiments on the three worlds are near parity for him, and the local militia were depleted in the last few years to build up frontline units so there shouldn’t be much of anything they can add.”
“Which do you believe?”
The grizzled Mechwarrior looked at his liege lord for a moment and then shrugged. “Likely somewhere between the two. MilInt’s ‘Mech numbers are pretty good but they tend to focus there – it could be there’s more infantry or tanks than they want to admit.”
“Given the raiding we’re seeing, I’d agree about ‘Mechs. And that pins down most of our Capellan March units. Dixon already has twice the regiments I originally planned and it doesn’t look to me as if he’s doing anything with them. At least casualty rates have dropped off.”
“Green troops always take the worst hit in their first weeks,” the third man at the table explained. Of course, John was the only one who could hear him. “It’s a leadership problem.”
“I’m tempted to relieve Dixon,” the prince told Stopec as if thinking aloud. “But I don’t know that we have anyone much better and a change of command could cause more confusion.”
“You’re probably right, sire. With your permission, I’ll use the data we’re getting for some exercises. The March Militia don’t seem to mind playing OpFor and maybe I can war game out some solutions.”
“Go right ahead.”
John watched as Stopec went to arrange for the data to be routed to his staff. Not turning his head to look at Hanse felt rude, but he’d forced himself to develop the habit – he couldn’t afford to look unstable. “You obviously have ideas what’s going wrong.”
“Given that neither side has any real advantage in numbers, equipment or doctrine, we’re looking at a deadlock,” Hanse told him unflinchingly. “In theory attrition would eventually swing the balance to us, but the forces involved are too small as a fraction of the total forces in service to make that realistic.”
“I see,” John agreed under his breath. “I can’t change the numbers all that much – or the equipment.”
“Changing doctrine is even harder, but that’s what you’re up against.” The redhead looked up at the ceiling. “You can’t retrain troops in the field – and the ones that are there are picking up experience. Rather than increasing the forces committed, what I recommend is pulling regiments out one at a time and replacing them with fresh troops.”
John almost risked turning and glaring but Stopec was on his way back. “If we rotated regiments after, say six months, we could adjust our deployments and rebuild the units that have seen action on postings in the Crucis or Draconis March,” he observed. “But I’m concerned that we’d see casualties spike again as new regiments get used to battlefield conditions.”
“That’s likely true. But it might be necessary, feeding replacement soldiers to the regiments isn’t really any better – if you break the numbers down the losses we’re getting right now are disproportionately the inexperienced.”
Hanse nodded in agreement with the Champion. “And the veteran troops can act as cadres for the regiments you’re still forming up, giving them practical experience to learn from.”
“It feels like we’re using this war just to blood our troops – and the casualties aren’t worth that,” John protested.
“You’re wrong,” Hanse said flatly. “It’s absolutely worth it – because those hundreds dead mean thousands, possibly tens of thousands live. Just as long as the lessons are learned.”
“That’s not what the war is about, sire.” Stopec’s words cut across Hanse’s. “The soldiers swore to fight for the Federated Suns and that’s what they’re doing. Doing already – and it’s up to us to make sure that it is worth it.”
“Perhaps you’re right.” John sighed. “Alright. Plan on a troop rotation, starting in two months and switching out one regiment each month. That shouldn’t leave Dixon too short on experienced troops at any one time. And while that’s going on, I’ll need you to figure out what we’re doing wrong – and to do it faster than the Capellans are. Because right now I don’t think they’re fighting any smarter than we are. God help us if they wind up learning faster.”
-
Sidebar: History of the Federated Suns
"For better or for worse, the history of the Suns is the history of the Davions."
In 2316, Lucien Davion began touring the worlds of the Crucis Reach, a region bound together by trading networks centered upon New Avalon. Product of one of the powerful political dynasties of the bread-basket colony world, Lucien had recently inherited the post of Prime Minister from his uncle. Arguing that Terra, resurgent after more than seventy years of stagnation and internal conflicts, would pick off isolated planets as they sought to re-establish Terran dominance; Lucien proposed a mutual defense and trade union. Twenty worlds agreed, forming the Federated Suns under his leadership.
Upon Lucien’s death his brother Charles was elected President in his place, and used this to pressure his homeworld into accepting him as the next Prime Minister. Creating the Federated Peacekeeping Forces, the precursor to the later Armed Forces of the Federated Suns, Charles Davion brought Lucien’s loose association of worlds into a cohesive state ruled from New Avalon. When Charles passed away, Lucien’s son Reynard was placed to succeed him on New Avalon and at the head of the Suns, confirming the dynastic nature of the office.
The increasingly absolutist rule of House Davion climaxed in Reynard’s tyrannical twin grandsons, Edmund and Edward. Their cousin, Simon Davion, an accomplished diplomat and military leader in his own right, dramatically assassinated Edward in front of the High Council in 2417. Over the next three weeks a new, reformed and decentralised, Federated Suns was born. Five principalities were formed, with the five dynasties to provide a check upon each other. Simon Davion, judged guilty of justified homicide, was spared punishment and became the first among equals, the First Prince.
The system of principalities until 2512 when William Davion died, naming his five year old grandson Alexander as heir. During the boy’s minority power in the Crucis March would be vested in a regency council, including his aunts Laura and Cassandra, the latter wed to David Varnay, Prince of the Capellan March, and General Rostov of the AFFS. When Laura maneuvered herself into control of the Draconis March, replacing the childless Prince Vladimir, and Rostov was appointed Prince of the Terran March the scene was set for a three-sided civil war.
War broke out in 2525, but unexpectedly it would be a four-sided war. Only eighteen years old, Alexander Davion escaped effective captivity by the Varnays. He had no soldiers, and the rival regents announced his death, accusing each other of the murder. Fifteen years later, at horrendous cost to his family and the Suns, it was the Young Davion, who emerged as the Federated Suns’ First (and now only) Prince.
-
“Pour another glass first.”
“You can’t drink, Hanse.”
“I meant for you. Actually, just bring the whole bottle.”
Oh boy, is he ever going to need it...
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TAG!
This is a redo from a few years ago iirc
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The original was a timeline, this version is a full story.
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Not only is the premise entertaining, but the dialogue is well-written, the descriptions are good -- this is just plain good writing, and I'm very much enjoying it.
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So my 1st thought is will Hanse end up changing the timeline enough that he won't rule??
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Avalon City, New Avalon
Crucis March, Federated Suns
3 August 2760
Edwina was away that night, having flown to visit her family on their estates halfway around the planet, and John had dismissed his attendants. He and Hanse shared the privacy of a lounge, one wall screen displaying an Italian opera that dated back almost a thousand years. The ghost from the future had commended it to John, who continued not to see the appeal but the sound of it would mask their conversation if someone actually managed to overhear them.
“The rot is too deep, John – it has been for years. Perhaps Simon Cameron could have turned things around but he’s dead and his son is a spoiled brat utterly unequal to his responsibilities.” Hanse’s eyes blazed with determination. “All you can do is salvage as much as possible for the Federated Suns.”
“I know your… unique position gives you a perspective that I lack, Hanse, but this isn’t your time. You’ve never lived at peace with your neighbours – no, I’m not blaming you, but it’s colouring your thinking. It’s thinking the way you describe – putting the Suns ahead of everyone else – that led to the Star League’s fall. We could have made it work despite Amaris, but from what you tell me, none of us were willing to be selfless enough to put the League ahead of ourselves.”
Relaxing into his chair, John looked at his great-great-great-great-great grandson and met determination with conviction. “I don’t know what happened to turn me into someone willing to stand back and let that happen, but I don’t want to be that person. If Richard isn’t able to set the example that the Star League needs then I should stand up and shame the others into doing so.”
“You’re at war with one of them.”
“True, but that’s the situation we’re left with. Richard doesn’t have to be a brilliant first lord, or even an able one, if we can simply convince him to work with the rest of the Council. Robert Steiner is no fool and Kenyon Marik is hardly an ally of the Capellan Confederation. Their issues with Kerensky are personal – once he’s no longer regent, we’ll be rid of one of the major sources of tension on the Star League Council.”
“That’s optimistic. The problems didn’t begin with him,” Hanse reminded him. “Look at the Hidden Wars – or the way Kurita tried to usurp your throne. Would you work with him for that?”
John hesitated. “It would be difficult for Takiro, but you yourself told me his health is failing. Minoru might be an enemy in your… timeline?”
“As good a term as any.”
“Right, but he doesn’t have to be an enemy. He’s ambitious, but also pragmatic. As long as the Camerons aren’t eliminated the prospect of being a power behind the throne is far better for him than breaking the League asunder. If we can work together that’s the two largest and most powerful Member States.”
The other man shook his head. “I don’t think you’ve got a hope in hell of succeeding, John. I’ll help you – it’s not as if I have any other options – but I hope this doesn’t end up making things worse.”
“I’m not talking about neglecting the Suns. After all, if we’re going to prop up the Star League then I need us to look as strong as possible. That strength just has to show that we’re gaining it from working with the Star League, not against it.”
“Then you need to talk to Kerensky. I don’t know how he’s seen in this era but history casts him as practically the soul of the Star League.”
John nodded. “Albion Military Academy is a good example of how the SLDF and a House Military can work together. There are only two other academies outside the Hegemony that do that – both in the Lyran Commonwealth – General Kerensky attended one of them. I’m going to propose expanding Warrior’s Hall on New Syrtis into a fully-fledged SLDF academy, one that can help train soldiers side-by-side for the AFFS and SLDF and foster pro-Star League sentiment.”
“I see. And you’re expecting that the other Lords will see that as something to emulate.”
“Probably not until Richard reaches his majority, at least for the Free Worlds League. I can’t see Kenyon Marik asking Kerensky for that or accepting it if he offered. But Barbara Liao might – if she’s seeing me as a rival then – by God – let’s use that. And then Kenyon will see that all his neighbours have SLDF academies and might be persuaded that he could seek the same from the new First Lord.”
Hanse chuckled. “I notice you’re not including the Combine in that. And you’re probably right. But a lot of this hinges on Richard Cameron being reasonable and that isn’t likely with Amaris holding his confidence. I agree as far as it goes that the League’s chances of survival are better if House Cameron isn’t wiped out – such as those chances are – but Amaris is the main threat. To all practical purposes he already has the future First Lord as a puppet and that isn’t enough for him.”
“Agreed. It’s difficult that no one else really sees him as a threat. If you hadn’t told me about him I’d have trouble believing he was anything more than the bumpkin he acts like.”
“I’m glad we’re on the same page.” Hanse leant forwards. “So what do you have in mind?”
“If we can tie him to the Periphery’s unrest then the rest of the Council will have to act. I’ve already instructed MilInt to start looking for shipments of military hardware that aren’t accounted for by the SLDF or the house militaries.” John stabbed his finger down. “Hiding the quantity of equipment you described would be incredibly difficult already. Now that we know what to look for we can -”
“You need to kill him.”
The prince looked at Hanse in horror. “You mean assassination? Of one of the Star League Council? That’s not a door I want to open!”
“There’s nothing sacred about their lives and better one man dies than ten thousand. Or ten million. The one assured way of stopping Amaris is to kill him.”
John rose to his feet and stalked to the window. “Setting aside the practical problems with actually carrying that out – which are titanic – it’s a certainty that it would be identified as an assassination. Even if there was no evidence at all – just as there wasn’t any evidence of Simon’s death being anything but an accident – the assumption would be there. The Territorial States would assume that one of the Member States removed him because he was too influential – which would be the truth when you come down to it. He’d be a martyr.”
“House Amaris is notorious for its internal power struggles.”
“So what?” John thumped the window. “He’s from the periphery, we aren’t. It’s that polarized right now. And the House Lords would suspect largely the same thing, and watch for anyone trying to move into the same circle. Which is exactly what I’m going to be doing – and the same solution will present itself.”
“Oh and then there’s Richard himself. Who will blame… who? Assuming that whoever is sent isn’t traced back to me – and that’s a real possibility, I know you have this quasi-infallible MIIO in the future but that doesn’t exist yet -”
“Which you’d better do something about.”
“Which, yes, is on my list of things to do. But Richard will most likely blame General Kerensky. So we’d end up isolating the First Lord even more, crippling any chance of getting his tolerance and potentially costing us one of the few other pillars of support the League has right now. Do you see why I think it’s a terrible idea?”
Hanse nodded. “You’re absolutely right. Killing Amaris would be a nightmare even without the moral issues which you carefully didn’t mention. But you’re the one who wants to save the Star League and as long as the centre of the Star League still exists, simple inertia has a good chance of keeping the Council from disbanding. Stefan Amaris is intent on destroying that centre and right now he has practically all the cards he needs to do that. He’s had a decade to get his claws into Richard Cameron and that’s not a bond you’ll break easily.”
“It’s too damaging to risk,” John told him firmly. “I’ll find another way. Besides… Amaris has family. We could kill him and be right back at square one if they take up the same idea. His wife could easily send Stefan’s heir Tadeo to Terra to fill his father’s place at Richard’s side. You know Richard would jump at the chance to mentor his friend’s son.”
That point seemed to sink in and Hanse nodded grudgingly. “I suppose I didn’t give his family very much consideration. Alright, I yield the point. So… going back to the earlier question, what else can you do to strengthen the Star League?”
The prince pursed his lips. “The treasury will howl but I think we’ll have to try to undo some of the damage done to the Periphery by the current taxes. I doubt I can get the Council to keep their hands off the funds generated unless Richard supports it, but nine-tenths of the problems in the Periphery stem from the taxes we imposed in ‘52.”
“It has potential,” Hanse admitted. “If less of the SLDF needs to go to the Periphery it would certainly complicate the Amaris’ coup. But without that income you can’t afford to support the AFFS and if you raise your own taxes then you’ll hurt the economy.”
“I know, but the core of the expansion is done so I can look at cutting back there a little and put it into measures to restrain some of the corporate gouging that goes on there.”
“Every little helps. Can I talk you into assassinating Jinjiro Kurita?”
“Absolutely not – do you think I want a war on two fronts?”
Hanse shrugged. “Worth a try. The last thing you need on the Star League Council is a psychotic.”
“Minoru has almost forty years ahead of him…”
.o0O0o.
Hellas Mountains, Valexa
Sarna Commonality, Capellan Confederation
23 September 2760
The road zigzagged up the steep slope in order to present a manageable gradient to ground vehicles. Ignoring the road in order to ascend as directly as possible, Susan scrambled her Dervish up the easier sections, sometimes using the paddle-like hands to stabilise the ‘Mech. Where the mountainside didn’t serve she used jump-jets to loft the fifty-five ton ‘Mech past obstacles.
“Major Barnes is trying to get your attention again,” Gav Greaney advised her.
“Yes, I noticed. Shocking lack of radio discipline, he really needs a couple of days leave.”
Delta Company, into which the remains of Echo Company had been folded, was made up of Wolverines rather than Dervishes. Conveniently, the two ‘Mech designs were of almost identical size and mobility so the company was able to operate together cohesively. Right now long range comms were supposed to be kept offline as the Confederation had managed to launch a replacement satellite network that could pick up on AFFS signals. It was only a matter of time before orbital sorties by the Navy’s fighters would take them out, but at the moment it gave the enemy an advantage.
“Major’s gonna chew you out, again.”
“Shut up Smythe.”
“Shutting up,” the woman affirmed – although how long that would last was as open to doubt as the timeframe for the Navy to clear the satellites.
“Thing is, she’s not wrong. Technically this is an unauthorised sortie. You could almost say we’re absent without leave.”
“Firebase commanders have authority to carry out short-term operations at their discretion and the 86th are inside our operational radius.”
“It’s kind of stretching a point to say you were the firebase commander, captain. The Major was only taking a nap.”
“He needs all the sleep he can get, Gav. And he left me in charge of the battalion until he woke up.”
“Just wanted to point out that he used the words ‘summary’ ‘court’ and ‘martial’ in his last transmission.”
Susan fired her jump-jets again. “Well he might get two of those together, but I really don’t think ‘Wang’ Dixon will be signing off on any summary judgements. If I’m court martialled he’d want every I dotted and every T crossed.”
“Benefit of being a Duke’s daughter?”
“I don’t like taking too much advantage of it, but if it means we can relieve the 86th then I don’t mind making an exception.”
As they reached the top of the ridge, Susan’s sensors started painting heat signatures. Fires were blazing in the barns of the sprawling cattle station that the 86th Light Infantry had been based out of, down in the broad valley beyond. Amid the smoke and fires she could see bipedal figures far too large to be infantrymen.
“I’ve a partial ID,” Smythe reported, breaking the silence as the other ten ‘Mechs of Delta Company caught up. “Bug ‘Mech, I’d say ninety-five percent chance it’s a Wasp.”
“And the other five percent?”
“Stinger with a Wasp cockpit assembly – there have been some patch-jobs sighted.”
“It doesn’t make a huge difference then.” Susan adjusted her radio to the frequency she’d picked up the infantry request for assistance on. Breaking radio silence could have been a judgement by the regiment’s command team that the Capellans must already know their location if they were under attack. Or it could have been a fake signal intended to draw out AFFS ‘Mechs to ambush them.
Having stayed in touch with Sergeant – now Lieutenant – Watsuki and his unit, Susan was fair sure she’d recognised the radio operator’s voice. That cut the odds of an ambush to around one in five by her best guess. Acceptable odds.
“86th Infantry, this is Delta of the Second Cuirassiers. We’re moving to your support,” she advised via a low strength signal that the satellites should hopefully miss. Of course, the Liao ‘Mechs in the area would also detect it, if not necessarily decode it. But knowing reinforcements had arrived should warn them off, which would be almost as good as destroying them.
“Roger that, Delta. We’ve got fire teams in the buildings and the drainage ditch.” The voice of the colonel was relieved. “We took down two ‘Mechs but there are at least ten more and a lance of missile carriers backing them up.”
“Understood, we’re on the way.”
Susan switched back to Delta’s internal comms. “Move in. We’re looking at a company of light ‘Mechs and a lance of missile carriers – Greaney, hold your lance back to deal with the carriers.” Missile carriers were little more than tracked turrets, but they could deliver an awesome amount of firepower from the missile launchers in those turrets. They were lightly armoured though and with four Dervishes, Greaney’s lance should be enough to take them out quickly.
As the company descended the slope, they dispersed and Greaney held his group back to form a second line behind Longknife’s four Wolverines and Susan’s command lance, which was one ‘Mech down.
“I think they’re pulling back to the buildings,” Smythe reported.
That made sense to Susan. “Keep moving, they’ll probably take us under fire with the missile carriers to draw us into the buildings and their range.”
Sure enough, as they came within half a kilometre of the cattle station the arching contrails of LRMs rose from behind one of the buildings – obvious due to their sheer number if nothing else.
The salvo had been concentrated on Longknife’s lance and the four ‘Mechs scattered, trying to avoid taking the concentrated barrage. Susan lost sight of them momentarily but all four of the magnetic signatures of the ‘Mechs kept moving so she didn’t think they’d been taken out.
Behind her, she saw Greaney’s lance briefly halt, the covers of their missile launchers opening. A return salvo burst up into the air and then the Dervishes resumed movement.
Then the first Wasps came into view, popping out to fire on Susan with their lasers as she crossed the quarter kilometre mark.
She had lasers of her own though, as well as SRMs. Her first target ducked back behind the cover of tin-walled building but she fired anyway – the lasers punched right through the light metal and four SRMs converted it to scrap, exposing the Wasp. A Wolverine’s autocannon bit deep into the light ‘Mech’s chest and its pilot fired his jump jets to bound back behind more substantial cover.
Alone the Wasps could have outrun her relief force but in addition to giving them more firepower the missile carriers mired them, for they were far slower.
Rounding the first line of buildings Susan saw that one of the missile carriers had blown up, the turret upended several yards from the tracks. One of the others turned its own turrets towards her, no less than sixty missile tubes on the low-slung turret, as the other two vehicles backed away, tracks digging into the dirt and gravel of the roadway.
Keeping her missile tubes closed, she rushed the carrier, firing just before it did. Her lasers bit into the forward glacis of the hull but her missiles were lost in the smoke as the missile load was fired directly into her.
Fortunately, Susan was inside the arming distance of the long range missiles – while the impacts staggered her and one missile starred the armoured glass of her cockpit, the damage was far less than it would have been if the warheads had gone off. Lurching through the smoke of the missile fire, she braced the Dervish’s weight on one foot and then crashed the other into the damaged frontal armour. Plating buckled and the missile carrier’s hatches popped open, crewmen fleeing. Gunfire from the next row of buildings cut two of the men down, a third reaching cover behind a stack of crates and cowering behind the shelter, clearly disinclined to continue the fight.
Longknife’s lance appeared on the other flank of the missile carriers and the two remaining vehicles came apart in the crossfire of the seven ‘Mechs. Although their armour was scored and paintwork a wreck, Susan was pleased to see that the other lance hadn’t taken any losses.
Checking for any further sign of the Wasps she spotted the turret of the first missile carrier destroyed, the one likely destroyed in the initial salvo from Greaney. The launchers were a different style from those of the other three and despite the heat of her cockpit she shivered. That one had carried short-range missile launchers – if it had survived then her close assault would have exposed her to a swarm of larger warheads that would have smashed her Dervish flat.
I think that was all my luck for today, she decided. Better to be more cautious in the future. “Don’t get split up,” she ordered. “Greaney, the carriers here are out but there could be more. Move up and join us, we’ll clear the site systematically.”
“Won’t that mean the Capellans can get away?”
“If they run then that’s good enough for me. We’re just here to relieve the place, not to try to rack up kill markings like those morons in the Eighth Fusiliers.” She’d seen some of the Falcon light ‘Mechs in that regiment swaggering around with carefully painted rings around their arms to signify claimed defeats over Liao ‘Mechs and armoured vehicles. There was some complex system of claiming victories and what each ring meant but all she’d taken away from that was that if she were to have been fighting against the Fusiliers she’d have made the ‘Mechs with the most rings priority targets.
.o0O0o.
Avalon City, New Avalon
Crucis March, Federated Suns
16 October 2760
“I’m glad we’ve been able to come to an agreement.” John shook hands with Erskine Cobb, the moment immortalised on holo-camera.
Over the next week or so this would appear as a minor note in the news media of hundreds of worlds and probably as a headline on Kathil. As CEO of General Motors, Cobb was one of the major movers and shakers in the Capellan March and its main manufacturing plants were located on Kathil. The deal that John had just signed off on would direct hundreds of millions of Star League dollars from the military budget to Motors, almost doubling their share of the lucrative military market.
“It’s been a genuine pleasure,” Cobb replied with apparent sincerity. “The SLDF turning the Blackjack down could have cost us dearly. It’s a pleasure to have the support of House Davion.”
“I wouldn’t be surprised if they reconsider after they see it in action with our regiments on the border. Your corporation has always provided quality products and I don’t see any reason to expect anything less.”
There was as much show as substance to that comment, but John could at least honestly say he had personal experience of one General Motors’ product: his personal ‘Mech was a Marauder, one of the most respected heavy ‘Mechs around and had been built by GM on Kathil.
Cobb released his hand. “Their loss, your gain.”
“When the Star League loses, we all do. But I’m glad to be able to step in where they didn’t.”
An aide ushered the business magnate in and John submitted to a quick brush down of his jacket by another attendant before heading back to his desk for his next meeting. “I hope the Blackjack is everything you told me,” he said in the brief moment of privacy he had.
“It just had bad press,” Hanse told him. “I don’t know where the rumours about it began but it’s a good, reliable ‘Mech. Not a showboat, but exactly the sort of workhorse you want on the frontlines.”
Owen opened the door. “Sire, Perry Lycomb of Lycomb Technologies.”
“Of course.” John rose and greeted the man with warmth. “I’ve been looking forwards to meeting you.”
“I feel the same way, your highness.” Lycomb shook his hand firmly. “I hope we can resolve the recent… disagreements that have arisen since May.”
“It was a terrible blow, seeing you targeted by terrorism like that.” John returned to his seat. “I understand the AFFS has offered to split costs for reconstruction with you. Those were certainly my instructions.”
Perry accepted the seat in front of John and Owen retreated. The businessman took a deep breath. “The offer’s been made, your highness and in many respects its very generous… but there are certain conditions that make us hesitant to accept the proposal.”
“He’s not going for it,” Hanse concluded.
With more practise, John avoided looking at his invisible advisor. “Would this be to do with the security concerns?”
“We have a great deal of investment – time, money and tradition – on Demeter.” Lycomb spread his hands. “Our workers are a community, almost an extended family. To ask them all to uproot from their homes and re-establish themselves halfway across the Inner Sphere… it’s just too much to do.”
“I can see your point of view, but really wouldn’t this be an investment in their safety – and that of their families? The Federated Suns has quite literally gone to war over the injury to Lycomb and while there’s been no further incidents on Demeter itself there’s no guarantee that the fighting couldn’t spread.”
The magnate nodded. “It’s much on my mind and we’ve had to hire additional security already for our remaining production facilities but the other factor is that moving our factories deeper inside the Suns could cost us some very important contracts.”
John raised an eyebrow. “You mean with the SLDF?”
“Quite.” Lycomb spread his hands. “We’re not just close to the Capellan Confederation on Demeter. While we’re bound by confidentiality as to the details, it can’t be a secret that the bulk of our production goes to the SLDF. It’s quite a coup to work with some of their cutting edge equipment and very few firms outside the Hegemony get the chance. If SLDF procurement felt that we were potentially open to… well, I don’t want to imply that you would be involved…”
“They’d think that my government was using you as a conduit to get hold of classified SLDF equipment.”
“Exactly! Even the perception could cost us heavily and since we won’t be assembling new Awesomes for some time to come we’ll depending on selling components for them and our aerospace division to remain solvent. Losing SLDF contracts – or worse, facing litigation – could destroy Lycomb.”
The prince turned his chair slightly. “Damaging relations with the SLDF certainly isn’t something I’d approve of, I can assure you of that. On the other hand, our policy of ensuring our sources of military hardware are from secure sources is built to a great extent on the dangers exposed by the damage done to your factories. Making an exception for Lycomb would difficult to justify.”
“I’m very sorry to hear that,” Lycomb answered, face solemn. “In that case I suppose we’ll have to find the money for reconstruction without your offer. I regret that we’re both in positions that we can’t find a compromise.”
“It’s unfortunate, and I’ll see if we might be able to find something else that we can offer that wouldn’t offend the SLDF.” John pushed his chair back. “Lycomb’s been good to the AFFS over the years and House Davion will not forget that.”
“In that case, your highness, I can assure you that I’ll be very pleased to consider any other proposals from the AFFS. I’m glad that we’ve at least now got a better understanding of what we’re each hoping for.”
“Absolutely,” John agreed and the two men shook hands again before Lycomb left.
“We’re going to need those heavy fighters, John. In fact, you need more fighters in general. Besides the Stuka the only other design being built in the Suns is the Centurion, you’re importing everything else.”
John nodded. “We’ll have to see how amenable they are to setting up an alternate facility. In the meantime maybe we can work something out with Boeing Interstellar. They’re already constructing a shipyard at Galax, which is certainly secure enough.”
“I didn’t know they were in the fighter market,” Hanse said in surprise. “Federated-Boeing were a standby of our dropship and jumpship production but they were focused on that.”
“I’m glad to know there are some gaps in your knowledge,” John said frankly. “They build the Hammerhead – which is pretty much reserved for militia use in the Terran Hegemony given the age but it’s a heavy airframe and not so advanced that building it in the Suns would upset the SLDF.”
“I can’t say I know the name.” The ghost made a face. “Probably it was another of those things we lost in the Succession Wars. Is it any good?”
John spread his hands. “I’m not a pilot. The navy would rather have more Stukas or Thunderbirds, but if we can’t get them then the Hammerhead would be better than nothing.”
-
High Orbit, Valexa
Sarna Commonality, Capellan Confederation
2 November 2760
At least the crew seemed to know what they were doing, Susan thought as she watched her ‘Mech move without her. The dropship that had lifted her to orbit would have to return for the other half of the Second Cuirassiers. Fortunately FSS Markesan was a dedicated transport with a dedicated ‘Mech deck that could accommodate a battalion of BattleMechs.
Right now her battered Dervish was locked into a transport cradle that would be guided on rails out the hatch and across the ship.
“Major,” a clipped voice offered from behind her. “Welcome aboard.”
It took Susan a moment to realise she was the one being greeted. Turning she saw a short, trim officer with a Leftenant Colonel’s two narrow stripes on his uniform epaulettes. Light Commodore was the naval equivalent she recalled and saluted him. “Sir. And it’s just Captain. I’m only provisionally in charge of the battalion.”
The corner of the man’s lips twitched in amusement. “Courtesy promotion, major. It’s a naval tradition that there’s only one captain on a ship.”
Her face coloured. “Sorry, sir. Protocol’s… slipped a little down there.”
“That I can understand – and between you and me, it’s caused the Department of the Army and Navy no end of issues over the years.” The twitch disappeared. “Part of the problem being that they think they can get the tradition to change when those are usually less flexible than regulation. I’m Markesan’s captain, Ken Jones.”
“Susan Sandoval.”
He nodded. “So I heard. Any relation to the Duke?”
“He’s my father.” Susan shrugged slightly. “Don’t put too much weight on the relationship – he wanted me to take a post in the Draconis March so he could keep an eye out for me, I came to the Capellan March because I don’t want that attention.”
“That’s very laudable, major.” She got the impression that Jones wasn’t being entirely sincere but she’d more or less got used to those reactions. “I’m afraid I’m not just here to greet you though. If I can persuade you to leave your ‘Mechs to my crew – they’re very good, I promise – then we do actually have some business to take care of.”
“Of course, sir,” she agreed quizzically.
“Wonderful.” He held the hatch for her in a gentlemanly fashion, ushering her across the dividing line between the dropship and FSS Markesan. “I gather you had a field promotion down there?”
“Yes sir, I had a lance when we landed.” Susan raised her chin in challenge. Six months wasn’t long to go from leading four ‘Mechs to almost forty but she wasn’t going to be put off just because naval promotions tended to be slower.
“Then I’m afraid I’ll have to be the one to break it to you that paperwork increases geometrically in relation to the number of people under your command.” Jones led her to what she recognised as an axial lift, the pair of them moving from handgrip to handgrip in micro-gravity. “In this case, my medical officer is nigh hysterical as your troops weren’t up to date on their inoculations.”
The brief acceleration of the lift pressed Susan’s feet against the floor for a moment. “We’ve had to prioritise and battlefield injuries tend to be more urgent.”
“You’ve nothing to justify to me. Unfortunately, the paper-pushers will have their due. We have all the necessary vaccines and whatnot aboard, but those are naval medical supplies and you’re from the BattleMech corps so you’re supposed to be getting this from your own medical service.”
Susan blinked. “Pardon me, Commodore, but do I understand that my people aren’t to receive the inoculations until we reach Goshen?”
“Oh nothing of the kind. We’ve already started on it, but unless we get your signature on the paperwork authorising the naval service to bill the BattleMech corps for it, well…” Jones shrugged wryly, “I’m not saying that the paper-pushers would court martial the two of us and my medical officer because they hadn’t been able to move some electrons around in the budget, but no one needs ‘suspected financial peculation’ on their permanent file.”
She groaned and leant back against the lift wall. “And I thought we were just fighting the Capellans.”
“I’m sorry I have to disillusion you.” Exiting the lift, the naval officer directed her towards a cramped compartment she realised must be the warships administrative officers. “However, now that you’re verging on being a field-grade officer you’ll have to get used to the idea that the AFFS is invariably, if informally, at war with the civilian arms of the government and engaged in a civil war between all internal factions. I’m continually amazed we ever find time to fight the Capellans or Draconians.”
“May God help us if we ever have to fight both.”
“There is at least the hope that they may be just as confused as we are.”
At least electronic forms meant not having to mess around with pen and paper in microgravity. Jones called up the necessary documents on a workstation and answered Susan’s questions as she worked through them, signing in the required boxes with an electronic stylus.
“Are you sure I’m not keeping you from your duties?” she asked. Didn’t the Markesan’s commanding officer have anything else to do but shepherd a temporary battalion commander through admin duties? There were Capellan ships in the system after all.
He pointed at one bulkhead. “We’re only three metres from the Combat Information Centre. If a crisis arises I’m available. Meanwhile my deck officers get the useful, if nerve-wracking, experience of being responsible for the ship on the frontlines, or as close as the naval side of things goes. I’m not too worried about anything happening while we’re in orbit, honestly. As far as the Capellans are concerned, if they blow us up right now then in the best case there’ll be shrapnel in orbit of Valexa for decades – and at worst the wreck could land as a single mass… that would be messy. No, if they try for an interception it’ll probably be near the jump points.”
“How very reassuring.”
“The odds are about fifty-fifty that we’ll run into someone. Since we were missed coming here with the Hussars, maybe we’ll see more action on departure.”
The little man seemed quite matter of fact about it, Susan thought. Then again, was it really any different from the situation on the ground? This was his battlefield and she’d have to assume he knew what he was doing, just as she did with other AFFS units on the ground.
Then again, Balbadd had taught her to take assurances with a pinch of salt. At least Jones’ nonchalance was a change from the sometimes colourful displays of confidence she’d encountered from fellow Mechwarriors.
Sidebar: Kearney-Fuchida
"It was a little like buses. Nothing for ages and then two came along at once."
The fundamental basis of interstellar transportation and communication lies in hyperspace physics, a field first theorised in the early twentieth century by Doctors Kearny and Fuchida in a series of joint papers. Practical application of their work didn’t result for almost a century until two universities independently produced results strongly suggesting that a circumvention of the limits of the speed of light might be possible after all.
The Terran Alliance Ship Pathfinder was the first starship, built at extreme expense to take man to the starts and it succeeded spectacularly, leaping from one star system to another in a split second. While the energy demands required long waits between such jumps, Mankind was primed and ready to leave the crowded Terra, yet the terraforming of Mars and Venus had been long term projects that couldn’t release this tension. Within only a few years the colony of New Earth was founded and many more followed.
The range of jumps increased as the science was refined and by the twenty-eighth century, the standard for modern vessels was thirty light years. In addition, integrating both a jump-core and in-system drives fell out of practise in favour of larger but cheaper jump drives with minimal crew quarters, equipped to recharge via vast solar sails instead of fusion reactors. These jumpships or boomers would then carry external payloads of dropships from system to system, with the dropships carrying cargos from the surface to jumpships that never needed to approach the planets they served.
The second application of hyperphysics waited for the Star League to discover. While jumpships could only operate in areas of effectively no gravity, millions of kilometres from planets or stars, it was discovered that microscopic jump transits could be created, repeatedly, to permit microwave transmissions through the effect.
Within decades this Hyperpulse technology cut message times across the Inner Sphere by half – far more than that in emergencies when extraordinary resources were authorised for reasons such as the convenience of the Star Lords. The entire industry of courier jumpships that had once served the interstellar states was rendered obsolete, almost overnight.
Kearny and Fuchida, scientists decades before their time, received the usual rewards. Driven out of the scientific community by the derision of their peers, both men died in poverty.
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Very nice story coming along, maybe with Hanse's help it will butterfly the Clans?
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I loved the outline/timeline you did & the expansion is certainly up to your normal standards. The sidebars remind me of the ones in the original Hammer's Slammers.
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So... Hanse didn't mention Kentares during that bottle of bourbon? ???
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Kentares isn't a sure thing, as long as Minoru isnt assassinated
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True, but it seems mentioning the possibility is the only way to make sure it doesn't happen...
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Kentares isn't a problem yet, Hanse is still trying to prevent the Coup.
IRC, they're going to look at reforming the AFFS soon.
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Kentares isn't a problem yet, Hanse is still trying to prevent the Coup.
IRC, they're going to look at reforming the AFFS soon.
God yes it was needed like white on rice, and them some.....
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SLDF Headquarters, New Earth
Alliance Core, Terran Hegemony
31 January 2761
While Fort Cameron outside Unity City was the nerve centre of the SLDF’s high command, the vast number of administrative personnel necessary to run the military forces of the Star League couldn’t possibly have fit into the limited space alongside the defensive structures that comprised the key of the defences around the capital city.
Thus every SLDF department and major field command had a complex of buildings located on humanity’s first extra-solar colony, the entire sprawling assembly and support structures constituting a city in its own rights. White stone, gleaming metal and mirror-glass made up every building, designed by master architects to present a unified whole.
Crossing paths with the ever-busy Aleksandr Kerensky was a trial in and of itself – he spent the majority of his time travelling the Star League aboard his flagship, moving from problem to problem and handling day to day issues via hyper-pulse transmissions. He visited Terra, of course, but that would have been a little too obvious – as would the First Prince visiting personally which had been John Davion’s first intention.
Fortunately, Thomas Green-Davion thought, his distant cousin was open to reason. Whether or not Terra’s regent would be… now that was the question.
“I’m not sure what your lord thinks you can accomplish,” Kerensky greeted him brusquely. “I supported him when he wanted lawful investigation of the Demeter incident but invading another Member-State was too far.”
Green-Davion nodded politely and folded his arms behind his back as he stood on the Star League seal that was worked into the marbled floor of the formal office.
The Commanding General stared at him and then sighed, gesturing towards a window nook at the base of one of the tall windows that looked over the city. “Sit down and let’s talk.”
“Thank you, sir.” There were benches either side of the angled nook, cushioned in the same olive of SLDF uniforms and they sat opposite each other. Kerensky had aged visibly over the last decade, it was hard to tell that the AFFS Field Marshal was the elder of them by twelve years. “I think we both understand that the Prince would have vastly preferred it if the Chancellor and the other council members had been willing to accept investigation and intervention under your auspices. Unfortunately that’s not the situation we’re left with.”
“I accept that position, but we stand where we are. The SLDF pushed the Combine out of the Suns thirty years ago and we can push the Suns out of the Confederation as well.”
“If it reaches that point, sir, the AFFS will withdraw peacefully. Whatever the involvement of the Capellans on Demeter, Prince Davion assures me that he won’t tolerate so much as a single shot fired at SLDF forces. It’s not much more than a year now until the First Lord is of age and perhaps that will allow this matter – among many others – to move forwards at last.”
“It is to be hoped,” Kerensky conceded. He ran a hand back over his bare scalp. “If the AFFS withdraws peacefully I would have no issue with that, but that isn’t what you’re here for, Field Marshal.”
“You’re quite correct. The fact is that Demeter – and the entire current border clashes -”
“That’s a polite way of referring to an outright invasion.”
“I thought so too,” Green-Davion confirmed, smiling as if he thought the interruption had been a compliment. “They are symptoms, not the cause of the Star League’s current issues. There is a deep well of public support for the Star League, at least in the Member States. But the upper leadership of the Member-States – with possibly the exception of the Hegemony – don’t seem to share in this.”
He looked out the window at the buildings. “No one with any sense believes that the men and women of the SLDF aren’t devoted to the ideals of the League or that they would defend them to the bitter end should it – God forbid – come to that. But the political will to do so has been lacking at times.”
“I don’t entirely disagree. However, that political will must come from the Star League Council and it’s your Prince who has a permanent seat there. Next year I’ll yield my place to Richard and be glad of it.”
Kerensky’s position wasn’t unexpected. He was soldier first and statesman reluctantly, at best. “Until that day though, you’re the Director-General of the Terran Hegemony in all practical terms. And you’re also the Protector of the Star League.”
“I’m not sure where you’re going with this.”
Green-Davion turned back to Kerensky. “After a great deal of thought, the Prince has advised me he feels that the decision to repeal the edict of 2650 – allowing the Member States to expand their military forces – was an error, as were the taxes imposed on the Periphery that in practical terms have enabled that expansion. Whether or not the other Lords feel the same way is questionable, but having contributed to the problem, he feels obligated to at least try to address it.”
“And how does he propose to do that? Because withdrawing from the Confederation would be a good step.”
“I’m sure that you realise how impossible that would be without an excuse. Such as, for example, placing the matter before the First Lord for arbitration.”
Kerensky shook his head. “That means another year of fighting and of soldiers dying for Davion’s pride.”
“Respectfully, sir, they’re fighting because the SLDF wasn’t released to settle the matter. If we can find some good reason before then I assure you, we will pull out. But barring absolute disaster, you can expect orders to that effect will be issued next February.”
“Then what do you have in mind?”
Pulling out a data chip, Green-Davion placed it on the windowsill in reach of the younger man. “He suggests a package of reforms to put before the Star League Council. You’re not entirely wrong about the price paid by soldiers fighting on Valexa, Westphalia and Angelsey, but right now there are SLDF soldiers fighting – and dying, if in thankfully small numbers – in the Periphery. And ultimately they’re doing so as tax collectors for the Great Lords.”
Seeing Kerensky nod, he continued: “The major part of the Prince’s suggestion is that the burden be shifted to those who benefit from those taxes. Lord Richard ordered the Twentieth Army withdrawn from the Rim Worlds Republic six years ago, to honour Lord Amaris. While he didn’t formally have the authority, we all accepted that. What if the other three Periphery states also had their SLDF garrisons reduced or withdrawn – not so abruptly, of course. Force the Council Lords to provide their own soldiers to replace them – many of the regiments raised over the last few years were really pulled from hidden reserves and there’s a limit to what can be pulled out in that way. If they’re having to uses their soldiers to collect the taxes they imposed, the other four Lords may be far more amenable to accepting compromises in order to have the SLDF take back their responsibilities.”
Kerensky took a deep breath. “The risk there would be that the Territorial States could rebel outright. Putting house regiments there would be very inflammatory.”
“The SLDF is already inflammatory, general. I’m sorry, but you know it’s true. If there is going to be a rebellion then Prince John believes that it would be better for that blame to rest on individual member-states than on the League as a whole. Isn’t that where the blame belongs?”
He got a snort in reply.
“If we can arrange for the House Militaries to do the initial bleeding for the sake of the taxes and for the SLDF to then act as peacekeepers – and convince the Great Lords to abolish the taxes placed on the territorial states, which would be an inducement for them.”
“It’s an interesting thought.” Kerensky looked at Green-Davion for a long moment. “It would require the First Lord’s consent. Without that there’s no hope at all of this working.”
“I know. And none of us have the best relationship with him. That’s why Prince John is willing to sweeten the pot for him.”
“How do you mean?”
“Strictly speaking, House Amaris willingly entered the Star League. The Reunification War only encompassed the Rim Worlds Republic because worlds rebelled against Lord Amaris’ ancestor. The First Lord has already honoured his friend Lord Stefan by making him a knight of the Star League. Wouldn’t it be fitting to redress the ancient wrong by elevating his realm to full membership of the League and giving him a vote on the Star League Council?”
Kerensky hissed. “You think that highly of him?”
“The First Prince doesn’t trust him an inch – but better to have him on our side. It would require a majority vote of the council – or a deadlock with the First Lord breaking the tie, but House Davion pledges their vote alongside the Cameron’s, so only one other vote would be needed for the motion to pass.”
“What about the other Territorial States? Would you offer them same?”
Green-Davion shrugged. “Right now I don’t think they’d want it – but if it settled the ongoing conflicts that are happening, would that really be too high a price to pay? We can’t overtax the territories if they aren’t territories anymore?”
“A fair point.” Kerensky looked back towards the main office, eyes lingering on the seal. “What other inducements can you offer?”
“Well, it occurs to us that there are three SLDF academies outside the Hegemony. If seven more were added – bringing it to two within each of the other member-states – then it would give the House Lords access to better training for their officers but also divert some of that officer pool to serve in the SLDF. Something for everyone.”
“I’m not comfortable with putting more Star League resources into the hands of Council Members,” the general said flatly. “Not as things stand, anyway. If they agree to put their troops in the periphery doing something useful then maybe I’ll reconsider. But tell John Davion that until his regiments are back on the right side of the border I can’t do anything whatsoever to suggest I’ll support the Federated Suns. I am – and I will remain – entirely neutral in his quarrel with the Liao.”
.o0O0o.
New Avalon Military Academy, New Avalon
Crucis March, Federated Suns
11 May 2761
The prototype lurched across the training ground, the torso twisting as the Mechwarrior tracked the guns to another target. Dirt across the ground flew up as high explosive rounds – admittedly underpowered compared to live ammunition – struck it, marking a line of the guns fire.
The target, a cheap simulated tank represented by little more than fiberglass on a truck chassis, was shredded as no less than four autocannon fired into it.
“Impressive,” Stopec grunted.
Hanse, standing beside John, said nothing.
The prince rubbed his chin. “Do we really need another air defense design, Michael? Your Rifleman is very sound.”
“For one engagement, yes. Then it runs out of ammunition. Also it overheats.” Which wasn’t to say that the Colonel had ever requested an alternative ‘Mech even when most ‘Mech regiments – most battalions, in fact – could requisition a Marauder for their commander. For all his proven valour, Colonel Stopec wasn’t of the opinion that a commander’s job was to stand on the frontlines. No, an air defense ‘Mech that filled a defined role but could mostly simply park somewhere and wait to be needed was perfectly sufficient for him.
“And this would be better? With no large lasers, once it runs out of ammunition it’ll be helpless,” John pointed out. “Not as well armed as General Motors’ Blackjack, not even as well armoured.”
“This is just a prototype,” the colonel replied. “The lasers are fine for the role and they can work on the armour.”
John glanced sideways at Hanse.
“It’s been a bulwark of the AFFS for centuries,” the redhead agreed, before reluctantly adding: “But they never fix the armour enough. Tanks are better for air defense – I always preferred Partisans.”
What was a Partisan? The prince glanced over at Stopec. “It looks like the gyro needs work as well.”
“Prototypes are always iffy there – you need to finalise the rest of the structure before you can get the gyro dialled in correctly for the weight.”
“Fair enough. How do you rate your Rifleman against tanks in the same role?”
Stopec’s frown was just short of a glare. “Mixed in for combined arms the way we’ve been trying with the Fourth? Not so bad if they can handle the terrain. Mostly the concern is that they get left behind.”
Out on the field the JagerMech had finished engaging all the targets and the Mechwarrior brought it around in a slow, formal pass in front of the viewing box so that the observers could take it in.
“Two centimetre and five centimetre guns,” Hanse pointed out. “The Partisan has as many autocannon but they’re all five centimetre. Kallon build them… or they did. Would, perhaps.”
“Tank regiments will need air defense as well, and an economic air defense tank would be useful. Given their expertise, it would be interesting if Kallon Industries tried to build one,” John said out loud. “This has potential, but it’s a long way from being ready.”
The Prince’s Champion shrugged and then glanced past John towards the Kallon Industries representatives, one of whom was moving towards the pair.
“We’re honoured you’ve decided to attend our demonstration, sire.” Valentina Fraser would have been taller than either men, even without wearing heels. Her business jacket and pencil skirt emphasised her slender frame, which John didn’t think was a particularly attractive choice – it made her look like a scarecrow to him. Then again, she was the only representative in the box who was from the engineering division rather than marketing.
“One always wants to keep an eye on works in progress,” John told her diplomatically. “Colonel Stopec seems to feel you’re on the right track.”
“We set ourselves three goals: more ammunition than the Rifleman, better heat management than the Rifleman and better protection than the Rifleman. It’s always hard to compete with oneself, but…” She broke off and chuckled.
“Two out of three so far, isn’t it?”
Her laugh died off. “Yes, as you say it’s a work in progress.”
“Tell me, does Kallon have any other air defense platforms in development?” John pressed. “Our armoured regiments could do with something to fill the same role as the SLDF’s Pollux – but simpler and more economic. Given your company’s expertise in the field I’d be interested.”
Fraser sniffed. “I couldn’t tell you, sire,” she said. “I work on BattleMechs.”
Fortunately for the dignity of Kallon Industries, the woman was joined by one of her colleagues. “And a fine job you’ve done, Valentina,” he said smoothly. “Perhaps you could show our guests the JagerMech in more detail?”
John glanced at Stopec. “You go and look, Michael. You were admiring it earlier.” It took him on a moment to think back to the introductions. “Mr Wilson and I can talk money while you’re playing.”
“I’m sure Lady Edwina will be pleased to know you’re giving up ‘playing’ with ‘Mechs,” the Colonel replied before turning to Fraser. “I’d be glad of a closer look.”
Wilson shook his head slightly as the two departed, already discussing technical details. “I suppose we’re all fanatics for our own subjects of interest, sire.”
“And yours isn’t BattleMechs?”
“Only selling them.” He smiled at his own joke. “‘Tina though, she dotes on the prototypes almost as much as she does her own children.”
“With the same care and attention, I’m sure. Do you have an estimate on what a JagerMech is likely to set us back once you’ve finished design?”
“It’s a very preliminary figure but somewhere between five and six million dollars apiece.” Wilson pursed his lips. “You were asking about the Pollux? I happened to see a lance of them on parade a few years ago. An impressive design but I’m not sure the SLDF would license the necessary technology to us.”
“I’m almost certain the Hegemony would claim that the systems were restricted under the Technology Transfers Edict,” agreed John. “But something simpler, say an autocannon arrangement much like that on a JagerMech mounted on a turret with a tracked chassis…”
“I know we’ve been working on a fixed turret arrangement,” the executive mused. “Our factory on Talon’s been upgrading its security after recent events. I can’t honestly say if we have a platform that would fit that, but if there’s an opening I can certainly see what could be provided.”
“I’d be grateful if you would.” The prince gave him an approving look. “The military market has been very busy of late but thus far we haven’t found anything right for that niche. If Kallon were to offer something then it would be looked on very favourably.”
He could almost hear a ch-ching! from Wilson at the prospect. “I’ll be sure to bring it up to our engineers then,” the man promised. “Not Valentina’s field though – if it doesn’t have legs she’s just not interested.”
.o0O0o.
Fort Gordon, Goshen
Capellan March, Federated Suns
1 April 2761
“Is this a joke, sir?”
Major Barnes shook his head. “Despite the date, Major Sandoval, no it’s not a joke. Congratulations on your promotion.”
Susan looked at the new uniform epaulettes she’d received along with the paper orders, epaulettes sporting the single broad stripe of a Major rather than the narrow stripe she wore at the moment. “I wasn’t expecting this.”
“No? You did well on Valexa. Better than most.”
“Not well enough.”
“Don’t sulk.” Barnes opened a drawer of his desk and produced two glasses as well as a squat brandy. “It comes with a new assignment too.”
She looked up sharply. “I’m being reassigned?”
“Scuttlebutt is that the High Command is looking at pulling cadres out of units that have seen action,” Barnes told her. “If you were being formally assigned command of second battalion then I’d have expected to see instructions to that effect along with the promotion. Since they haven’t there’s a good chance you’re being looked at to form a new battalion.”
“Third battalion, maybe?” The Cuirassiers had effectively collapsed down to two battalions due to their losses on Valexa. Thus far nothing had been heard about providing equipment and Mechwarriors to bring them back to full strength.
Barnes filled both glasses and offered one to Susan. “Unfortunately no.” He raised his own glass. “To the our sister regiment, the First Arcadian Cuirassiers, four companies of which are being shipped home from Angelsey after they under-estimated the Capellans.”
Susan stared at him. “Shit,” she mumbled and then threw back the contents of the glass. “How did they manage that?”
“Details are sketchy but I’ve had advance notification to expect most of them to be transferred to us.”
“Are they retiring the regiment?”
“That’s right. Some of them will be pulled for a new cadre, which I suspect is where you’ll be going too, and the rest come to me. For my sins, I’ve told I’ve been recommended as the new Colonel, so my own promotion papers might be on the way.”
“They must have been really horrible sins.” Susan reached out to the bottle and refilled both glasses. “But seriously, they’re in good hands. I’d stay with the regiment, given the choice.”
“Soldiers like us don’t get the choice,” Barnes told her. He accepted the fresh glass. “But thank you, anyway. War isn’t what I was expecting. Not what any of us were expecting.”
They drank again.
“How do I lead a battalion, anyway?”
“About the same way you handled a company.” Barnes looked at the glasses again and then capped the bottle. “Obey orders, most of the time. Use your discretion when you think the orders are stupid and refrain from saying so to the face of your commanders.”
“That’s not exactly how you did it,” she pointed out.
“No, but this is likely my last promotion. I can follow orders just fine but there’s something… a sense for when orders aren’t enough. You have it and I don’t. That’s why one day I expect I’ll be saluting you, Sandoval.”
“That’s almost endearing.”
“Don’t give me empty compliments, Major.”
“At least until they promote you, you don’t even outrank me, Major,” she replied.
Barnes laughed. “Two glasses and you’re already snookered. I’m still in your chain of command.”
Susan looked at him over her empty glass and then placed it down. “You got the job done and you got us home. Don’t under-rate yourself.”
“Thanks for the pep talk, but I know my limits.” The man leant back. “I don’t know what your new unit will be but there’s talk of combined arms tactics being tried out by the Davion Guards. That could mean the Ceti Hussars will be getting another regiment. You worked pretty well with the infantry so that could work out for you.”
She thought about what little she knew of the other command. Something about a permanent mix of ‘Mechs, infantry and armour. “Aren’t they volunteer only?”
“You volunteered when you took your oath to the First Prince.”
“Ah, that sort of volunteer.”
“It’s just a thought, I could be wrong.”
Susan nodded. “I suppose we’ll find out when they get around to telling us.”
“Now you’re getting the picture.” Barnes gestured to the door. “One last piece of advice and keep this between the two of us?”
“Major?”
“Something tells me Valexa isn’t the end of this – we’re going to see more action, maybe worse action. Be ready for that, Sandoval.”
.o0O0o.
Avalon City, New Avalon
Crucis March, Federated Suns
20 June 2761
“Your next appointment, sire.”
“He’s looking rocky,” Hanse warned, slipping into the office between Owen and the guest. “Watch out.” The redhead could walk right through people but he didn’t like to, he claimed it made him feel queasy.
“Marshal Pond.” John returned the officer’s salute without standing. “You don’t often ask for appointments so abruptly, so I assume it’s important.”
“It’s important to me, sir.”
Given pause by the tension in Pond’s voice, John sat back and looked at him. Hanse’s right. Damn, he must be taking this harder than I expected. “Take a seat.” When the man hesitated, John gestured towards one of the two chairs facing his desk. “Eric, sit down. You look like death warmed over.”
Taking a long breath, the head of Military Intelligence obeyed.
“Alright, I could speculate about why you’re here but I don’t like guessing games. Why don’t you just lay it out for me and then we’ll see what we can work out.”
Pond gripped the arms of the chair as if for strength. “Sir, if you want my resignation I’m more than willing -”
“Stop.” John pushed his chair back and walked around his desk. “Just stop. If I wanted your resignation then I’d ask for it.”
“Sire, I can’t explain your decision as anything other than dissatisfaction with my department. And that’s my responsibility.”
John spared a glance for Hanse who shrugged. “You’re talking about my appointing Reznick as Minister of Intelligence.”
“Yes, sire.”
“Did it ever occur to you that maybe it’s not a failure on your part and more that the scope of our intelligence needs has changed?”
“I appreciate that we’re at war, sire, but...”
“No, that’s not it.” Going back to his desk John looked across it at the field marshal. “We’ve been very fortunate over the last century and a half – with the Star League mostly at peace we’ve not needed to watch our neighbours as closely as we did back in the Age of War. Giving one agency the lead for foreign operations was a matter of economy as much as anything else and I have no complaints about how it’s been handled… but the situation has changed.”
“Right now we need to look at everyone in the Star League and we need to look at them in more depth than ever. Just the military build-up alone is stretching the demands on your department beyond anyone’s expectations. I need you on that, Eric. I need your people focused on that. And that means we need to move those other areas outside of your bailiwick again.”
“I’ve brought in Reznick to bring the other intelligence agencies together and to bring them up to your level of performance, not to cut away at you. I need to have a political and economic picture for the other realms’ intentions and capabilities. That’s her job, your job is what it always has been at heart: understanding the military side of that. Are you with me?”
“I…” Pond licked his lips. “I suppose I over-reacted, sire.”
“Next time, Eric, come to me before you panic. If I think you’re not performing I can promise that I’m not going to keep it to myself.” He paused. “And given how things are going fighting the Capellans, there are some of your officers who really should be worrying.”
“Thank you, sire. It’s much appreciated.”
“I’ll try to be clearer in future. And please reassure your staff too – if you’ve been walking around like this then they’re probably under the same impression that you were. It’s not good for morale.”
Pond managed a weak laugh. “I’m sorry, sire. I’ll make it clear to them that this isn’t a show of dissatisfaction.”
“Don’t worry about it, Marshal. Once you’ve let them know then you can forget about it.”
John sat back and waited until the door had closed and he was sure that the head of military intelligence was clear before laughing. “When did Albion add amateur dramatics to their curriculum?”
“Your guess is as good as mine.” Hanse sat down where Eric Pond had been. “At least he accepted your explanation. Not everyone will take their little fiefs being broken up so well.”
“I’d feel better if I could see some actual progress.”
“Then I’d suggest a field trip out to Gambier,” the 31st century First Prince suggested. “Colonel Stopec’s been out there almost a month with the Fourth Guards and the Ceti Hussars. Between the two of them the new regiments should be coming together now.”
“A month seems an awfully short time to see results, Hanse.”
“I’m not saying they’re a finished product, just that there’ll be signs of progress. Either that or they’re making a killing selling consumables on the black market, because your IIa staff are going spare about the way they’re going through ammunition and spare parts.”
John sighed. “Really?” Following the example of the SLDF, the IIa staff were those responsible for supplies and logistics. “Should I expect another irate Field Marshal in my office?”
“I’d suggest a medical evaluation for some of them. Nothing in the universe goes through supplies like combat operations, but the numbers suggest Stopec is putting them through a pretty near semblance of it.”
The First Prince looked at his desk. “It’s tempting, but no. My duties are here. And I’ll be getting another viewpoint on them soon anyway.”
Hanse smirked. “Joshua’s made the cut then?”
“Comfortably inside the top ten percent of his class,” John agreed proudly. “He’s requested the Fourth Davion Guards and don’t see any grounds to refuse him.”
“They’re a good regiment.” Hanse paused. “My brother’s regiment.”
“You mentioned that, but you never said which of the Davion Guards regiments you’d served with.”
“Oh? I’ve taken the field with several of them but my first posting was the same as yours, the Third.”
John nodded. “I wish I could send Joshua to serve with them, but the Fourth are what he wants.”
Hanse nodded. “Edwina will be furious though.”
“I know. But I can’t ask less of my son than I would of any other soldier. That’s not how House Davion rules.”
“We have our failings – my wife called it a Messiah complex.” Hanse’s appearance shifted and aged, as it often did when he spoke of his family. John found it fascinating but had never presumed to ask why the lines of age and the white hair seemed to associate with Hanse’s wife and children. “And it’s pulled too many of us onto the frontlines when our duty was here on New Avalon.”
“Many failings… but never cowardice.”
“No. Never that.”
Sidebar: The Outer Reaches Rebellion
"Strategies used to control twelve billion people on one planet are less effective against forty million on forty."
In 2116, eight years after the first hyperspace jump, the Terran Alliance founded humanity’s first extra-solar colony on New Earth (Tau Ceti IV). This, however, was only the beginning and the prioritisation of the establishment of new colonies to take advantage of the presumably limitless wealth of the universe as opposed to dealing with continuing issues of poverty and hunger on Earth became the key political question within the Alliance Parliament for the next two hundred years. (Colonists tended to take a relaxed view of this, seeing strike actions over the hardship of a 30-hour working week as somewhat removed from the work of making new homes.)
By 2219 there were over three hundred colonies known to exist and only a generation later, a more thorough survey located six hundred – demonstrating the strength of the Expansionist party. Without question the Terran Alliance assumed that these worlds were under their rule and domination, appointing powerful colonial governors to see to their interests. As colonies grew and more and more of their population had never even seen Terra, the interests of the motherworld began to be looked on less favourably and perhaps inevitably the interests of the colonies were not always respected by the governors.
In 2235 the aptly named colony of Freedom politely declared their independence from Terra and expressed their hope that the Alliance would respect this decision. In fact it was eight months before the news even reached Terra, but the reaction wasn’t quite as hoped – three squadrons of armed starships were despatched to blockade Freedom and its nearest neighbours – it was correctly guessed that other worlds had followed Freedom’s example – impose martial law and demonstrate the overwhelming military might of the expensive Terran Alliance armed forces.
As detachments of Alliance Marines armed with the latest weapons sought to disarm increasingly hostile populations on the colonies, they found themselves the targets of guerrilla warfare. Local populations demonstrated that knowing the terrain mattered more than having a supersonic air transportation and that death was no less fatal from a Molotov cocktail than a laser rifle.
After scattering their forces over more than fifty worlds without tangible benefit, the wars was abruptly lost on Terra when the Expansionist Party government lost a vote of confidence. The new Liberal government detested the war, not out of sympathy for the colonists but due to their focus on their Terra-centric agenda. Abruptly, the Terran Alliance granted independence to all worlds more than 30 light years from Terra, want it or not. In many cases they even failed to recover their troops. By the time the Liberals were ousted from power, five years ago, they’d followed this by selling off the massive Terran fleet of jumpships off at pennies on the dollar to fund social programmes.
Terran domination of the stars had ended, but it would not be forgotten.
-
*snip*
“Ah, that sort of volunteer.”
*snip*
Ain't that the truth! ::)
-
“I don’t know what your new unit will be but there’s talk of combined arms tactics being tried out by the Davion Guards. That could mean the Ceti Hussars will be getting another regiment. You worked pretty well with the infantry so that could work out for you.”
Sounds like the Regimental Combat Team will be introduced early.
-
New Aquitaine, Gambier
Crucis March, Federated Suns
29 July 2761
The rolling hills of the military reservation were marked by the tracks and footprints of generations of combat exercises. More than a few of them had been laid down over the last three months with almost forty regiments assembled to test themselves for war.
Tanks, artillery, infantry and helicopters were all playing their role but it was ‘Mechs that were decisive – at least, that was what Joshua Davion had been taught at the academy. Six regiments were assembled here – the storied Davion Guards, the experimental and thus far unduplicated Ceti Hussars and four regiments so new that they hadn’t even been formally recognised on the rolls of the AFFS.
Provisionally, the new regiments had been designated as the Crucis Dragoons and quite a lot of their personnel were fresh from academies – New Avalon Military Academy like Joshua and their traditional rivals Albion, Goshen, Sakhara, Warrior’s Hall – but their leaders had seen action against the Capellans and been handpicked to pass on their experience.
Right now, the First Crucis Dragoons were the hunted, brigaded with infantry and armour, along with a battalion each of VTOLs and artillery. It was a well-balanced force but their mission wasn’t destruction as much as escape, for in this exercise they were up against Colonel Stopec’s own regiment and two of their sister regiments as well as three tank regiments and one of infantry.
Joshua’s Marauder left a new trail of markings from its hoof-like feet as he followed the regiment in their advance after the enemy.
“The Red Force’s skirmish elements are engaging the right flank near Bridge Three,” Captain Hodges informed them. “Their hover tanks and helicopters can get across the river but the rest of their force needs the bridge and Fourth Dragoons confirm they and the Fourteenth Panzer have their side of the bridge locked up. If anyone tries to get a column across they’re confident they can hold until we take them in the rear.”
“Colonel Stopec’s orders are to turn the formation to close in and encircle Red Force. If they’re testing Bridge Three then we can rush through Bridgetown while the left flank extends to reach the river upstream of Bridge Three.”
Joshua thought about that. “Captain, I realise I’m the FNG but isn’t running a fast column through an urban area generally not recommended?”
Thankfully Hodges didn’t rip his head off for the question. “You’re right that there’s a risk of ambushes, Sergeant. The Colonel’s decided it’s a risk we’re going to take so keep your eyes peeled.”
Bridgetown wasn’t a real town – instead it was a facsimile made up of pre-fabrication buildings, more than a hundred of them set up on one side of the river that cut through the training ground, overlooking Bridge Two.
Joshua noted as they approached that several of the buildings would need replacing soon – it was obvious that several mock battles had taken place here already and taken their toll on the structures. Rebuilding it would be a painstaking and probably painfully repetitive job for the AFFS engineers stationed on Gambier, or in other words good training for them.
“I’m highlighting routes on your tactical display,” Hodges instructed. “Caret’s one through nine – we’ll intersperse with the tank companies and follow the marked route through – those are the clearest streets available. If we’re blocked then don’t try to clear it or climb it, take a left and move over to the next route.”
That could leave the shoreline uncovered, Joshua noted – although to be fair, if the rightmost column went right there was nowhere to go but the water.
“As soon as we’re clear of Bridgetown we’ll reform before pressing on. And remember, we have a lot riding on this. If Red Force get out of the exercise area then we’ll be buying beer for the thirsty bastards next weekend and none of us want that.”
Moving at a steady forty kilometres an hour the tank line reorganised itself from a broad line behind the ‘Mechs into nine orderly columns, a tribute to their experience working together although Joshua would have been happier if they were driving something newer than Tiger mediums. Tanks like these had fought in the Davion Civil War of the twenty-sixth century and while they were certainly still deadly, they were no match tank for tank to the heavy Von Luckners operating with Red Force.
Hodges’ Marauder and the two Riflemen that filled out the command lance formed compact diamond with Joshua holding the rear position only a little raggedly. “Second Lance, you have the lead with two tank platoons behind you, then First Lance, the last tank platoon and finally Third Lance. And keep your eyes peeled – especially you, Sergeant Davion.”
“Yes, sir.”
He watched four of the company’s eight Wolverines move ahead while the others fell back. The first buildings were lower and widely spaced but up ahead he could see that the road narrowed and was flanked by four and five store apartment blocks, with even a pair of true tower rearing up near the bridge.
Flicking the Marauder’s sensors, Joshua grimaced as he confirmed his suspicion that the reinforced concrete made a nonsense of mag-scans. Infra-red might not be any better than normal light under these conditions and he switched back and forth between the two as the chin sensors tried to pick out any signs of infantry lying in wait.
So intent was he on his search that he misjudged the narrowing of the road and brushed the corner of one building with one of his arm-mounted weapon pods. The armour plated PPC and medium laser didn’t take any damage but glass and concrete broke under the impact and much of it rained down on the ground.
He paused his ‘Mech, appalled at the mistake and the tank behind him barely stopped in time.
“What are you playing at, Davion.”
“Sorry, hit a building.”
“It doesn’t matter,” Hodges responded. “Just get a move on.”
Good job there weren’t any Red infantry waiting in there, Joshua thought. I could have killed someone by mistake.
“Blockage ahead, sir. We could jump it.”
“Negative, turn left at the next junction – we’re sticking with the tanks,” instructed the captain.
Joshua reached the junction and followed Hodges, careful of the corner this time. The blockage looked as if half a building had slumped sideways across the road. It wouldn’t be too much of a problem for ‘Mechs but it wasn’t so definite for the tanks.
“Two blocks ahead we go right and we’re back on the next route,” Hodges reminded them. “Just keep going and we’re -”
“Tanks behind us!” came a scream, a sound followed by the popping of paint loaded missiles and autocannon.
Joshua spun his ‘Mech back towards the rear of the column and this time the tank behind really did drive into him, more than fifty tons of metal scything the bird-leg of his Marauder out from under him. He barely twisted to the side and avoided landing on the tank.
Oh god, what next!
What was next was a volley of fire that slashed through the air above his fallen ‘Mech. If he was still standing, his Marauder would have caught the bulk of it but as it was the two Riflemen caught the missiles on their rear armour. Red paint highlighted the hits and both ‘Mechs halted, arms falling slack by their sides as the battle computers judged them crippled or destroyed.
Rolling over, Joshua propped his Marauder up and opened fire with the weapons he could bring to bear. His autocannon missed, spraying blue paint-rounds up and above the two Dervishes that had moved into the junction. The PPC and laser in his left arm were more accurate – tuned down to training levels they still scorched the paint across the shoulder of the nearer of the two ‘Mechs, erasing the grinning wolf’s head that marked them as part of the First Crucis Dragoons.
“Contact!” he called in confirmation, hitting the regiment push since no one else seemed to have done so. “Hodges’ company, engaged by Red Force ‘Mechs in Bridgetown.”
Then there was a roar – as if heavy munitions were going off, live munitions. Dust or smoke seemed to billow up to engulf the Dervishes and when Second Lance’s Wolverines arrived, bounding over Joshua’s still prone Marauder, they too disappeared into the cloud.
“Dragon’s Bane!” Stopec’s roar cut through the radio waves. “All units hold your positions and regroup. Multiple buildings are down and Red Force is behind us. Report casualties and report if you still have a clear route back the way we came.”
Pushing off from the road, Joshua brought his Marauder upright. Some of the armour had been battered in the fall but otherwise everything seemed operational.
Hodges’ Mech moved up to his. “You okay, Sergeant?”
“Nothing worth mentioning, sir.”
“Check around the corner – just a peek though.”
Sticking the chin of the Marauder obediently out into the junction, Joshua cycled through his sensors and then – on impulse, pinged the road back with his radar and sonar. “Dust’s not settled, sir, but I think the rest of the company are intact, just blinded. I can’t tell about the tanks but there’s something at ground level behind them.”
.o0O0o.
They had in fact been blocked in when Von Luckner heavy tanks hidden in the ground floors of apartment blocks had driven away, yanking out key structural pillars to bring down walls onto the roads behind the advancing columns. While not unnavigable, the confusion caused by the dust and the ambush by Red Force Mechs had allowed the Von Luckners to build up a safe lead as they made for the edge of the exercise area.
The most Stopec could do was send his lighter elements back to chase them. Joshua and Hodges moved down to the shore and had some satisfaction in spraying fire at the helicopters and hovercraft that zipped past them, using the river as a road to safety.
At the end of the day though, the referees from the Ceti Hussars had no doubt who had achieved their goals. The First Crucis Dragoons, the ‘Wolf Dragoons’, had taken more damage over all in the brief skirmishing between light forces but the vast majority of their strength had withdrawn to fight another day.
“We’ve spent the last few months teaching the Dragoons, it shouldn’t be a surprise that they’ve gotten good,” Stopec informed the Mechwarriors at a combined debriefing and mess call that evening. “And if it’s taught us some painful lessons then better to learn them now than when we’ve got live ammunition coming at us.”
He picked up his bowl. “Anyone want to tell the class what they learned today?”
“That Wolves can run away real fast?” called a voice near the back.
“Well volunteered, Paget, I needed someone to help set up the field latrines.” Stopec didn’t even look up from the stew that had been prepared at the kitchen. “Anyone else.”
“Surprise as a combat multiplier,” offered Joshua.
“Yep, damn right. That was you, Davion? Good call in earlier, concise and to the point.” The colonel spooned up another mouthful and chewed. “Next?”
“Never underestimate what Major Sandoval will do for a beer?”
“You sure it was her?” asked Stopec.
“Respectfully, sir. Colonel Hammond is a tough fighter, but it’s Major Sandoval who comes up with the dirty tricks.”
“That’s right – good application of know your foe, it was indeed Sandoval’s idea. So… given we knew that she was in the Red Force, why do you think I took a chance and ran through the city instead of watching for an ambush.”
Joshua blinked. Was he admitting to a mistake? In front of the entire regiment?
Captain Hodges put his own bowl down. “Sir, sometimes you just have to take the chance.”
“Arguably, yes. What I should have done is scouted, sent a couple of companies ahead to check Bridgetown. They’d probably have gotten chewed up if they found the Red Force but we’d have sprung the trap before we were inside it.” Stopec lifted his bowl and poured the last of the stew into his mouth. After swallowing he wiped his mouth and beard. “Information wins wars. They knew what we were doing and we had no idea. Take that lesson and write it somewhere you won't forget it.”
.o0O0o.
Avalon City, New Avalon
Crucis March, Federated Suns
30 September 2761
The Great Hall of the Castle Davion glittered with light as the lamplight reflected off thousands of jewels as well as the silver and gold inlays of the floor. One of the balconies was occupied by an orchestra who’d been practising all year for the great events of the annual Royal Court.
John’s throne sat empty, for between dancing with Edwina and politicking with the High Council he’d not had a moment to rest since the start of the ball.
Empty but not alone for Hanse Davion stood upon the dais, watching the whirl of the Federated Suns’ elite with a rueful smile on his face.
“I appreciate your support for our new project.” Countess Peregrine Johnston was, among her many talents, an excellent dancer. John, who’d learned to dance simply because it was expected of him, always enjoyed dancing with her. It annoyed Edwina, since Peregrine’s husband was notably heavy-footed and protocol demanded that when one husband danced with the other’s wife, the reverse should always at least be offered.
With a slight bow, John released Peregrine’s hand. “I’m almost always favourably inclined towards patriotic endeavours, particularly one that offers to improve employment.”
The Johnstons owned a lucrative share of the New Syrtis mines, making them one of the wealthiest families in not only the Capellan March but the entire Federated Suns. John hadn’t been aware that with the military market on the rise that they were looking to invest. In the future that would have been, they’d have not found an opportunity until the collapse of the Terran Hegemony opened the damaged and bankrupt factories there to foreign ownership.
With the foreknowledge provided by Hanse, John had been able to bring that investment capital together with a heavy engineering firm on Barstow who had seen their exports to the Outworlds Alliance collapse in recent years. They’d already begun work on developing a new product – something of more interest to the SLDF and AFFS than it would be to civil engineers on Alpheratz.
The countess offered him a curtsey. “I won’t bore you with asking about the war, as so many have before.”
“Thank you for asking by not asking,” he replied gravely. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I fear I must rescue my wife’s toes from your husband.”
“Oh dear, now who will I find to dance with him,” Peregrine said brightly and flourished an ornate fan – this year’s great fashion statement – before giggling behind it.
“I do beg your pardon, Elias, but I believe the next dance is mine.”
“Of course, sire.” The count swept a gallant bow towards the happy couple. “I’ll just fetch my wife something from the bar while she’s finding another excuse not to dance with me.”
Edwina shook her head and used her own fan to hide a frown. “He’s a lovely man, but I do wish the three of you wouldn’t let their disparate aptitudes for dance overflow onto me.”
“But if you didn’t dance with him, everyone would think Peregrine was my mistress,” he protested innocently. “I don’t make these little rules of courtly conduct up, you know.”
“You’re impossible when you think you’re being funny,” she said. “The next dance had better be something slow.”
“It is,” John promised, hoping he’d remembered the musical order correctly. Fortunately he had and the two of them were able to slowly waltz.
“John,” she whispered. “Please don’t take the Fourth Guards to the front.”
“I can’t change it now. They were scheduled for it before Joshua chose them.”
”You could take the First – Stopec should stay here on New Avalon since you insist on going to the war yourself.”
“Joshua would never forgive me, and I’d be betraying every other soldier in uniform.”
“You promised me.”
“And if General Dixon had given me one victory, just one, I’d have been able to declare that we’d won and pull out. Instead he’s deadlocked us completely.”
Edwina let go of his hand. “If anything happens to my son, I will never forgive you.”
“That would make two of us.”
She smiled weakly. “I believe you. But for tonight… please make my excuses.”
“Of course.” John bowed over his wife’s hand and kissed it before she took her leave.
Edwina’s absence opened him up to no less than six queries as to her wellbeing as he made his way across the hall to where his mother was making conversation with other ladies of middle years. “Is Edwina well?” she asked directly on seeing him.
“I think she might be in need of someone to talk to that isn’t me,” John told her. “If you don’t mind the imposition.
“You’ve been a brute again,” she sighed melodramatically. “Your father was the same – never saw when I’d changed my hair. It’s a fortunate thing he looked so adorable when cluelessly asking ‘what did I do wrong’ or you’d never have been born.”
“That would have been just a touch inconvenient.” He was long used to his mother’s offbeat sense of humour and refused to rise to it.
“I’ll take care of it, dear. Please do me a favour though and rescue your uncle Thomas from Vasily – or is it the other way around? One or the other, but the Duchess is feeling neglected.”
Looking around, John spotted the Duke of Robinson standing near Thomas Green-Davion. “I’ll get right on with that, mother. Ladies.” He bowed to them and left as they rattled their fans in acknowledgement.
Crossing the floor again, he took a glass from one of the servants and sipped the wine. “Gentlemen.”
“Sire.” His cousin saluted, followed by the Duke. They made an odd pairing, the tall and austere Green-Davion next to the fleshy Sandoval who stared at the world through wire-rimmed spectacles.
“I’m sorry to interrupt your conversation, but I believe your wife is feeling unattended, Vasily.”
“Probably fretting about Susan again,” the duke observed. “I’d hoped we were through this after this last time. She wasn’t even scratched.”
“Go dance with her, Vasily,” Green-Davion advised. “There’s nothing worse for a marriage than letting your wife think you don’t have time for her.”
“Advice from the old married man.” Sarcasm dripped from the other man’s tone, for Green-Davion had never married.
“I’ve observed many as a disinterested outsider.”
Shaking his head, the lord of the Draconis March drained his glass and then headed determinedly across the hall in search of his bride.
Green-Davion rolled the stem of his own glass between his fingers, the wine rippling as he did so. “You and Joshua shouldn’t both take the field, you know.”
“I don’t expect to see a single Capellan soldier personally.”
“The best laid plans of mice and men…”
John shrugged. “I sent the men out and put the wrong officer in charge. If I don’t go there personally to fix it, how can they trust me again?”
“And if you get your head shot off, they’ll never have to trust you again. Stopec is more than able.”
For a moment, John was tempted to share the truth – that he needed to be there in order for Hanse to be useful there. There was nothing – as far as they knew – to prevent the other Davion from joining the expeditionary force on his own but since he wouldn’t be able to communicate with anyone, there would be no benefit. But John could go there and have the most experienced general in existence there as his advisor.
It was odd to think that, but it was also true. The SLDF had fought insurgencies for the most part. Even their suppression of the DCMS thirty years ago had been of limited scope compared to the battles Hanse had fought as a general and later as First Prince. No campaign since the Reunification War could compare to Operation Rat, which had smashed the Capellan Confederation and no other would until – unless, he promised himself – the Periphery uprisings and Amaris’ coup took place.
It was a sound argument but it wasn’t something he could tell, he decided. No, Thomas Green-Davion was just too sensible – likely John would be quietly restrained, Joshua transferred to the First Davion Guards as no longer in any way expendable and a regency established.
Edwina would probably be pleased but otherwise disaster.
“It’s something I have to do. I hope it’s never needed again.”
Green-Davion eyed him sceptically. “Now you sound like your grandfather. I had to bring him back from Royal to his wife. Don’t put your son or Stopec in that place.”
.o0O0o.
Leim City, Valexa
Sarna Commonality, Capellan Confederation
22 October 2761
It was inconceivable that the Maskirova hadn’t picked up on the face that John was bringing heavy reinforcements to the front. In order to maintain some degree of surprise, the Federated Suns Navy had scheduled only enough transports to move Stopec’s task force one jump at a time and Dixon himself had been advised to expect them in mid-November.
Instead chartered civilian vessels had had their ostensible schedules changed suddenly to provide a command circuit as far as Goshen where three warships and a military convoy were ready to bring the force in by an in-system jump point.
“Sire.” Dixon dropped to one knee before John as the prince entered the command post. “Welcome to Valexa. May I congratulate you on your deception as to when the reinforcements were to arrive?”
John stared at him and then around the command centre. It looked like what it was – a repurposed hotel lounge. Map flimsies covered tables and the bar was clearly still there and had been in use. “General Dixon, you are relieved.”
“Of course, sire. Naturally you have command.”
“You misunderstand.” John jerked his chin towards the door. “Pack your personal effects, there is a shuttle waiting to take you up to the ships.”
Dixon’s head jerked up.
“Sire?”
John looked around the room and then at Dixon’s staff. “Pack this up for transport. I will establish my headquarters in a more secure location.”
Without looking again at the humiliated general, he left the room and walked back into the hotel lobby. “Settle any accounts for the use of the facilities,” he instructed the first of his aides before turning back to the Colonels who had assembled from their regiment’s various positions. “Ladies and gentlemen, thank you for coming to greet me. I don’t feel this is a suitable location for an in-depth staff meeting but you may rest assured that I will be availing myself of your experience as we move to conclude our campaign here.”
“Colonel Simons.” He turned to the commander of the Thirty-Eighth Avalon Hussars, one of the two BattleMech regiments already on planet. “I’m pleased to inform you of your promotion to the rank of Major General. I understand your regiment is positioned outside the planetary capital.”
“Yes sir, although quite a distance outside, tell the truth.”
“The Capellan fire base you’ve taken over will serve as my operational headquarters. Please see that General Dixon’s former staff are relocated there – you may assume they are now your staff and that you will be taking charge of operations on the western continent.”
“Some of you may recall Colonel Paxson of the 86th Light Infantry who served here previously? No? Unfortunate. The Colonel has also been promoted to Major General and will be taking charge of the eastern continent operations henceforth.”
“Sire, you can’t really mean to put an infantry officer in command of my ‘Mechs!” exclaimed a broad-shouldered man. John took a moment to identify him as Colonel Toland of the Twelfth Syrtis Fusiliers, rotated in recently to replace the Eighth regiment of the same formation.
“You may generally assume that I mean what I say, Colonel.”
“But sir, an infantryman can’t be expected to understand how to properly employ BattleMechs in the field. I’m sure he’s an excellent commander of infantry, don’t get me wrong, but there’s -”
“You are of course free to resign your commission if you feel unable to subordinate yourself to the proper chain of command.” John gave him a cool look. “Or, if you feel he requires advice then you may provide it in a respectful fashion and accept his decisions as your appointed commander. I would personally recommend the latter but if your conscience dictates…”
Toland stared at the Prince and then at the other colonels. The only one of them who met that look was Simons, who simply shook his head. “I look forward to being proven wrong, sire.”
“Excellent.” John drew himself up and saluted the Federated Suns colours in the corner as one of Dixon’s staff picked up the flagpole to move it outside. “Then I will be meeting those of you now under General Simons command this evening. General Paxton will advise those of you on the eastern continent of when a similar staff meeting will take place for his officers.”
.o0O0o.
Camp Stone, Valexa
Sarna Commonality, Capellan Confederation
22 October 2761
The Capellan fortification hadn’t been a permanent facility, or rather it had been intended for only small scale occupation – perhaps a local battalion of the planetary militia. Pre-fab cabins and a bulldozed berm had converted it to house tanks and a full regiment of infantry before Simons advance a month before had pushed the troops in question back to the planetary capital, Parthevia.
The command facilities were crude – an unimpressive bunker that could only claim to be weatherproof because the mud had been tracked there rather than seeping through cracks. John elected to brief outside instead, rain beating on the open-sided tent that now housed Dixon’s collection of optimistically annotated maps. Some still bore grease-pencil markings suggesting Parthevia would fall the previous October.
Examining the folder in front of him one last time to make sure he was familiar with the details of what he and Hanse had worked out as a plan, John finished the last of his coffee and then looked up at the seated officers waiting for him to begin.
He closed the folder with a snap. “Colonels. General Simons. It is imperative that we conclude our mission here on Valexa within the next three months. In order to do this we need to secure only one objective. Reaching out with a pointer he indicated Parthevia, specifically the spaceport on the outskirts of the city. “The Capellans, being the enemy, are an obstacle to this. They are not an objective in and of themselves. General Paxton’s command, being quite some distance away, are concerned only with supporting us in our objective, which they will do by diverting as much attention and resources as possible to the eastern continent.”
“Please remove from your minds any other geographic location on Valexa, or any idea of destroying the enemy army. Our goal is this military spaceport with its facilities, valuable to the Capellan Confederation Navy for the repair and maintenance of its military dropships. We will destroy those facilities and we will then withdraw from Valexa, having achieved our mission.”
There was a murmur from the officers and General Simons cleared his throat. “For the purposes of clarification, sire, what you’re saying is that we’re giving up on the goal of occupying Valexa for the Federated Suns.”
John restrained the urge to snap at the man. “Occupation has never been the objective here. The previous commander appears to have been the victim of mission creep. We are here as a punitive measure, to redress the Capellan-sponsored terrorism on Demeter.”
“Thank you for confirming that, sir.”
“Of course, General.” John turned back to the map. “In order to seize the spaceport we’ll first be launching a decoy attack west of the river, to suggest that we’re trying to encircle the city. The goal here is to draw mobile forces across the river. Once this is done, air-strikes will be used to destroy the bridges…”
As John continued to lay out his plan, he saw the officers begin to take notes. At least, he hoped that was what they were doing. If they were simply doodling then he’d lost them and he needed their confidence if this was going to work. There was a delicate balancing act between pushing hard enough to have a victory that could be claimed at New Avalon, without going too far to back down once the Star League Council convened next year.
“So that’s the basic plan,” he concluded. “Are there any questions or recommendations?”
Major Sandoval – who looked barely older than Joshua! – raised her hand. “Sire, the plan appears to depend on Capellan forces crossing the river to engage the decoy force. If they choose not to – or if they managed to ford the river without the bridges, then we’ll have a significant portion of our forces isolated across the river while the Capellans can concentrate on the units moving in on the spaceport.”
“That is a concern, Major. How do you recommend we respond if those cases develop?”
“To lay the ground work for the second situation, I’d recommend that the airstrike on the northernmost bridge be a feint with the pilots under orders to only damage the bridge without dropping it – missing entirely with bombs, for example. If the Liao regiments see a clear route back then they’ll likely take it even if it’s less than optimal and that bridge is far enough north that using it would delay them for hours. Optimistically, forces could even move out of the city to secure it against further airstrikes.”
A second officer pointed at the map. “And to make it look tempting to come across the river, we could set up an infantry position at this village where it would seem exposed to a counter-attack…”
Hanse was nodding enthusiastically as the meeting began to liven up, points being raised and argued over. John set his pointer down and let Simons take over directing the discussion and refining the plan.
Sidebar: BattleMechs
"Infantry remains queen of the battlefield, but the ‘Mech is the king and we all know what the king does to the queen."
As wars between the vast interstellar states of the twenty-fourth century expanded in scope, solutions were sought to the immense logistical challenges that had been faced during the Outer Reaches Rebellion a century before. The development of the aerospace fighter, capable of combat in both atmosphere and outer space revolutionised aerial combat during this era, reviving the idealistic notion of a single warrior contending with rival peers.
This ideal reached surface combat in 2439 when the Terran Hegemony developed a new generation of artificial muscles (myomers) that had already been used for prosthetics and for humanoid industrial robots. Under the auspices of Director-General Jacob Cameron, the Mackie – a hundred ton behemoth loaded with advanced technology quite literally crushed no less than four remotely operated tanks under-foot in a matter of minutes.
Over the following decades, Terran military successes drove their neighbours to acquire this technology at any price. Realising their lead was temporary, the Hegemony responded with a succession of more advanced and specialised designs over the decades – some of them copied by the other states who were also developing new models of their own.
The Ares Conventions, signed in 2412, had enshrined the idea of limited wars. Now those wars could be fought with the firepower of a platoon or company concentrated in the hands of a single highly-trained warrior. Mobile campaigns could be fought by comparatively tiny and easily transported forces free to operate away from population centres due to their small logistical footprint. Within a generation, the Mechwarrior had become the military elite, romanticised by some as a modern knighthood and despised by others as glory hounds and prima donnas.
Ranging from twenty to a hundred tons, powered by a fusion reactor, even an unarmed ‘Mech can destroy a city by walking through it carelessly. (Admittedly, it might take a while). Wrapped in layers of heavy armour, they’re armed with potent lasers and particle beams, batteries of missile launchers and rapid-firing autocannon. In the head, a pilot can deploy of this with unmatched mobility, constrained only by on-board ammunition stores and keeping the heat of the fusion reactor under control.
-
Parthevia Space Port, Valexa
Sarna Commonality, Capellan Confederation
1 January 2762
The four Blackjacks in Susan’s command company elevated their guns and began to fire up into the sky, tracer streaking up towards a squadron of helicopters that were moving in on their flanks.
The Rippers were primarily infantry transports, armed with a pair of lasers that couldn’t match the range of the light autocannon mounted on the Blackjacks. Their side-doors opened as they reached the port’s control buildings and infantry started firing back out of the sides with man-portable lasers.
It was an unequal contest given the VTOLs’ light armour and only one of the Rippers survived long enough for the men aboard to jump down onto the roofs of the control buildings. Even as it rose up to retreat, the two Blackjacks continued to fire and its rotor came apart, dropping it back onto the tower, breaking through the lightweight roof and burying itself in the observation deck.
“Heavy ‘Mechs coming at us from the west,” reported Gav Greaney. Susan had been able to bring him along from the Cuirassiers and he’d been promoted to Leftenant. His fire support lance started laying down a barrage of LRMs in direction of the incoming attack.
“Van Dorne, talk to me.”
“Just Koschei – we can handle it.”
Susan nodded in agreement. The Sixteenth Liao Lancers relied heavily on the aging heavy ‘Mechs for their cavalry operations – but the speed and protection of the sixty-five ton machines came at the expense of firepower. Baker Company’s Warhammers should be more than equal to holding them back. “Alright, but keep me advised.”
She looked ahead at the control complex. With the rest of the First Dragoons fighting around the repair facilities, Colonel Hammond had broken off the Fourth New Valencia Rangers to take the towering buildings that handled flight operations and assigned Susan’s battalion and heavy tanks from the Eighteenth Heavy Tank regiment to support them.
“Rangers-Six, this is Wolf-Sixteen. Liao Mechs are pushing our left flank but it’s contained.”
“Understood, Major.” The infantry commander’s voice crackled on the radio – the Liao-controlled transmitters of their objective were causing interference for radio communication. “The right flank is reported as clear, we’re beginning our assault.”
APCs began to rake the front of the control buildings with their machineguns as infantry exited the vehicles and rushed the doors – or in some cases windows as Susan saw one squad lob a grenade through the glass and scramble over the hole left when the grenade went off.
Flashes of PPC fire from Baker Company and the tanks backing them up lit the night as the Warhammers replied to fire from the Koschei’s heavy autocannon.
“Save your ammunition,” Susan ordered Greaney after a second volley of LRMs arched up to shatter armour across a Liao ‘Mech, baring internals for Van Dorne’s men to deal the finishing shots.
“Understood.” The four ‘Mechs closed their launchers and shifted positions.
An SRM rocketed from an upper story window and splashed against one’s rear armour. Oily flames rose from the Dervish’s back. “Shit! It’s an inferno!” wailed Smythe.
Susan pointed her ‘Mech’s arms at the window and let fly with both lasers and four missiles. While she couldn’t see the men inside, four high explosive warheads should shred anyone in that room. “Don’t panic, Smythe. One missile isn’t going to kill you – stay cool and it’ll burn itself out.”
“Gah!” The woman turned her ‘Mech and backed it against the nearest building, trying to scrape the napalm off it. “I hate fighting infantry.”
“Major, we have a problem!”
Susan recognised the voice of Captain Bradford, commanding Charlie Company on the eastern side of the complex and turned her ‘Mech in that direction. “Talk to me.”
“Heavy ‘Mechs – very heavy, maybe assaults. We’re down four Manticores already and I don’t think we’re even scratching them.”
“Greaney, move your lance and back up Charlie Company.” Susan glanced west to make sure that flank was still holding – fortunately everything seemed to be in hand. “Help is on the way, Bradford.”
For a moment she thought the crackling radio was all the reply she’d get and then: “Roger, Major. They’re quads. I’m swinging north, might get you a shot at their backs.”
Susan pushed down on the pedals, pushing her Dervish into a run. Quads – ‘Mechs that were quadrupedal rather than the usual bipedal layout of ‘Mechs weren’t all that common. Scorpions were too small to match what Bradford was describing but the only other design she could think of was the Goliath – eighty-ton ‘Mechs with a good long-range arsenal. “Command lance, with me. Air Defense, stay with the infantry.”
As she rounded the complex, the ferrocrete was lit by silvery flames as a runaway fusion reactor consumed itself and the Manticore tank that it had powered.
Rather than the towering, long-limbed Goliaths she’d guessed, the Liao ‘Mechs were low slung with multi-jointed legs. There were more than twenty of them and as she took them in, one opened up with a heavy autocannon. The shells shredded the tracks and flank of another Manticore, the tank halting abruptly. For a moment that seemed the worst of it but then the ammunition bins went up, breaking the tank in two behind the turret.
They had PPCs too, Susan noticed. At least one of Bradford’s Warhammers was down and one of the ‘Mechs stomped over, casually crushing the broken ‘Mech’s arm underfoot.
While the rears weren’t exposed, Bradford’s shift of position had at least given her flank shots. “Concentrate your fire on my target!” she ordered and fired everything into the left side of the nearest enemy.
The temperature inside her cockpit rose sharply as her missile volley erupted from her launchers. Greaney’s lance had picked out their own target but the Wolverines of her command lance raked the same ‘Mech she did with their autocannon and lasers, adding SRMs to her own volley.
Fire sparked from the side of the target’s PPC but otherwise the ‘Mech seemed unfazed. Greaney’s target staggered and one leg dragged, a joint damaged by dozens of missiles. Nonetheless it gamely turned towards these new aggressors.
The warbook pinged, having finally pinpointed an identity for the ‘Mechs. Apparently the design was called the Xanthos, which meant nothing to Susan, and the markings corresponded to the Capellan Cuirassiers… which did.
“Pull back and engage at close range!” she ordered, her ‘Mech sluggish as she tried to follow her own advice. The Capellan Cuirassiers were a crack unit and Intel didn’t put them anywhere near Valexa. It looks as if we’re not the only reinforcements on world. She switched back to the Dragoons’ channel. “Wolf-Six, we’re engaging two companies of the Capellan Cuirassiers outside the control buildings. They’ve got assault ‘Mechs… something called a Xanthos.”
The Colonel’s voice was unruffled. “Understood, Major. I’m cutting you priority for artillery and air support is on the way but fall back if you have to. I’ll inform the Rangers of the situation.”
Susan’s ‘Mech staggered as PPC beams struck it in the chest. On her damage display she saw one of the LRM launchers go red and the other amber – one out of action entirely and the second hit had fused the cover in place – she couldn’t fire it unless she pried it open somehow. “Dammit.” Hitting her jump jets, she gasped in the baking cockpit.
“Van Dorne, we’re going to need support on the east flank. Can the tanks finish up the Koschei?”
“I’ll bring two lances now,” the Captain replied promptly. “The Lancers have fallen back but I’m not sure they’ve quite given up.”
The Xanthos had broken into two lines, one continuing to push Bradford north while the other half of their force was focusing on the eight out-numbered ‘Mechs of her Alpha Company.
“Oh shiiiiiiit!” Smythe went rocketing into the sky an instant before her Dervish disintegrated in a thunderclap.
Make that seven ‘Mechs. Susan switched to the artillery, hoping they’d received Hammond’s directions. “This is Wolf-Sixteen, I have a fire support mission.”
“Roger that, Wolf-Sixteen. We have two batteries ready to fire.”
Susan squinted at her nav display and read off what she hoped was the right grid reference. “I need everything you can give me – there are twenty-four, that’s two-four, assault quads east of the control buildings.”
“Shots out, Major,” the artillery woman replied calmly. “Just give us directions so we can correct our fire.”
The first salvo came crashing down behind the Xanthos, knocking down the ‘Mech that Greaney’s lance had damaged earlier. The massive ‘Mech tried to stand and then, with both rear legs out of action it braced the forelegs and started dragging itself doggedly after the Dragoons.
Not even trying to fire back as she dodged her Dervish back and wished for more cover, Susan guessed at the enemy’s speed. “A hundred metres south and thirty east,” she directed.
Six of the eight shells were on target and caught one of the Xanthos between them. Armour plates shattered but the ‘Mech lurched out of the smoke, apparently undaunted.
What does it take to stop them! She thought, but then another massed volley of missiles caught the Xanthos and secondary explosions ripped through the blocky torso, gutting the ‘Mech.
PPC fire traced into the flank as Van Dorne’s ‘Mechs joined the fight and a second Xanthos fell as more than a dozen beams ripped into it, one catching the cockpit squarely.
There was a roar of fusion turbines overhead and through the smoke that rose from damaged units, Susan saw lasers slicing along the length of the Liao line. Centurion fighters slashed east to west through the air and Susan thought she could see them breaking into a turn to repeat the strafing run.
The distraction cost her though as a PPC smashed through the knee of her Dervish. Throwing the ‘Mechs hands forward to absorb the impact of the fall, Susan felt her head snap forwards and then back as she hit the ground. She tasted blood in her mouth and realised she’d bitten her tongue.
Working the controls she managed to roll the Dervish over, but the gyro whined as she tried to balance her ‘Mech to get the legs under her.
“Major, get out of there!”
Looking up, Susan saw one of the Xanthos stepping closer, lowering the gaping muzzle of its autocannon towards her crippled ‘Mech. With shout, she slapped the canopy controls with one hand and yanked on the harness lock with the other. Tumbling head-first out of her seat, she whacked her neurohelmet against the canopy as it opened, fortunately with the opening beneath her.
For a change she didn’t strike her head as she fell from the cockpit down to the ground two metres below. Her left arm took the brunt and she gasped in pain.
Then she huddled into a ball and hoped her cooling vest’s ballistic layer would withstand any shrapnel as the autocannon bellowed, shells ripping through her Dervish. The thundering sound was almost as harsh as the fragments of metal raining down on her.
Then smaller autocannon roared and Susan uncurled, scurrying for cover beneath what was left of her ‘Mech – unexploded munitions be damned, she was at more risk of being stepped on. From behind one arm’s weapon pod she saw the Xanthos staggering under dozens of small explosions as the Wolverines of her command lance formed up around her fallen ‘Mechs.
The assault Mech, already scarred by earlier weapon hits gave ground… and then they all were, the Liaos suddenly backing their ‘Mechs away.
For a moment she wondered if she was hearing things, cheering? But then she looked over at the control building and saw that the banner of the Confederation was being lowered on the flagpole that reared up from the upper-most tower, and the Sword and Sunburst of the Federated Suns was being raised in its place.
.o0O0o.
Court of the Star League, Unity City
Terra, Terran Hegemony
15 February 2762
“Prince Davion.”
John turned as he was about to enter the Council Chambers. “General Kerensky.”
The Commanding General gestured towards an alcove. “A word, before the Council convenes.”
“Of course.” He moved in the indicated direction and noticed out of the corner of his eyes that Hanse was frozen, eyeing the General with a curious eyes. Is he… an admirer? I know Kerensky’s got almost mythical status in the 31st century, but I didn’t think he’d be star struck. “If it’s about the Capellans…?”
Kerensky shook his head. “No, I’ve heard about your… victory on Valexa.”
“The soldiers did all the heavy lifting, I wasn’t much more than an audience.”
“It’s always the way. We set matters in motion but younger men carry them out.”
“We’re beginning a withdrawal from Angelsey and Valexa now we’ve met our objectives. The First Lord can still arbitrate a withdrawal from Westphalia, to close things out. A nice note to start his reign with.”
The response was a shake of his head. “I thought I should let you know that he’s amended the schedule for the meeting a little. There’s a new Executive Order taking first place on the agenda.”
“Oh.”
“It wouldn’t be appropriate for me to discuss it in detail. I don’t know if it’s your proposal last year or Amaris, but he’s got the bit firmly between his teeth.”
“That… sounds ominous.” It would be Order 156 of course, but that was simple sequential number. Was the content going to be what Hanse had warned of? Richard’s reported teenage outbursts had seemed to taper off over the last year, which Minister Reznick’s analysts ascribed to his infatuation with one of his classmates. Hanse hadn’t been able to recall if that had happened in his own history or note.
“I haven’t had any real chance to speak to the First Lord in more than platitudes with the birthday celebrations, and then his trip yesterday,” John continued. Away from Unity City on private business. Given it had been Valentine’s Day, it hadn’t taken a genius to imagine what the eighteen year old Richard Cameron had been doing. Hopefully the young woman in question would be a good influence. She’d reportedly stood up to him at their school, which was a good sign. “Hopefully it’s something positive.”
Kerensky’s gaze suggested otherwise. “You’ve always been level headed. We’ll need as much of that as possible.”
“I’ll do my best.”
Inside the Council Chambers most of the lords had already taken their seats. Three of the territorial states were represented, Nicoletta Calderon and Beatrice Avellar in conversation at one end of the horseshoe-shaped table. The pair had been the voice of Periphery resistance to Star League policies from that corner of the room for as long as John could remember, a distinct contrast to the more compliant Rim Worlds and Magistracy lords who usually sat opposite.
Looking at Janina Centralla, who’d succeeded her mother shortly after the Demeter crisis, John suspected that the Outworlds wouldn’t be as easy to deal with as her mother had been. She hadn’t sat down yet, instead standing between Calderon and Avellar in quiet conversation. Nothing sensitive, surely, but it marked a shift in position by the Canopians. Oh well, the Canopians were a long way from the Suns and they didn’t have a voting seat.
Robert Steiner was another relatively new member. His father had been one of Kerensky’s advocates as both commanding general and regent – a real loss. John moved to take his own seat next to Robert and across from the Council’s perennial trouble maker, Ewan Marik. Where other lords had brought data pads or other working documents with them, the Captain-General had brought a hip-flask.
“Want a nip?” the Marik offered loudly. “This is going to be deadly boring.”
“I think I’ll manage, thank you.”
“Take that stick out of your ass, Johnny. Then again, maybe you did and it’s up Baby-Barb’s now.”
The new Chancellor’s glare in response seemed equally split between the two of them now. At least Ewan’s antics mean that John wasn’t the sole target. Across the table Takiro Kurita murmured something that might be intended as restraining but in practise was barely audible.
“So what’re we waiting for – the fat man and our glorious leader? Oh wait, Kerensky’s not in charge any more, is he?”
“If you cannot remember the festivities where you drank at least your own bodyweight, Captain-General, then perhaps you’ve reached the point where you need to cut back,” suggested Centralla as she returned to her place at the table, leaving a space between her and John for Stefan Amaris.
“Never happen,” Ewan promised. “But the kid might have an outbreak of sense and dump all this crap on Kerensky again. It’s what the man’s there for, after all.”
The door to the chamber and Richard Cameron entered, wearing a high-collared jacket and breeches bloused at the knee, in the latest court fashion. Stefan Amaris, following in the First Lord’s footsteps, wore a similar outfit which looked ridiculous on the portly President of the Rim Worlds Republic.
Amaris paused at his seat while Richard continued past John, Robert Steiner and Barbara Liao to the First Lords seat between the Captain-General and the Chancellor. He only then seemed to notice that the Rim Worlder wasn’t with him and frowned. “Stefan, please come and sit here – at my right hand. I’m sure Lord Marik won’t mind trading places with you.”
“Lord Cameron,” Robert objected. “The seating arrangements are traditional, and have remained unchanged since we first convened.”
“****** it, I don’t mind. Nearer to the pisser, anyway.” Ewan shook his flask disconsolately and then slid it over in front of Richard before standing. “Have a drink on me, kid. It makes the meetings go smoother.”
“Not for the rest of us,” Beatrice Avellar observed drily.
“I don’t care about the rest of you,” the Captain General explained as he walked past her and crossed to the other arm of the table.
“We’ve all noticed.” Janina Centralla gave the Free Worlds Lord a disdainful look. “May I trade places with Lady Avellar then.”
With some effort, Kurita raised his voice. “This is the Star League Council, not a game of musical chairs. Let us proceed to business. I believe the first item is arbitrating the aggression of the Federated Suns against the Capellan Confederation over the last two years.”
“Actually,” Richard said smugly, “There’s an executive order which I’ve drafted which should settle the matter completely, Lord Kurita. Executive Order 156, which becomes effective from the end of the month.” He touched a control and holographic displays in the centre of the chamber brought the text of the order in front of each of the Council.
John read it carefully. It was just as Hanse had warned him and he saw the other man leaning over the table next to Richard to read the document. It was obvious that neither Richard nor Stefan Amaris was bothering to read it – they couldn’t have telegraphed more obviously who had ‘helped’ the First Lord with this idea if they had tried.
Stripped of the admittedly thin veneer of legalities, Executive Order 156 called for the complete disarmament of all nine of the House Militaries, bringing them in line with the Terran Hegemony whose entire armed forces had been transferred to the SLDF upon its foundation. Every warship, aerospace fighter, BattleMech and any armoured combat vehicle above ten tons in weight was to be transferred to the custody of the SLDF and the personnel would be given the option between retirement with full pensions – payable by the state governments – or transferring to the SLDF to serve there.
“Are you out of your tiny little mind, boy?” asked Ewan. The proposed measure seemed to have sunk in past the man’s veil of alcoholism and indifference. “I’ve heard some stupid shit in my time but this takes the cake.”
“As little as I like to agree with Lord Marik, in this case I have to wonder if this is intended as a joke.” Robert closed the display with a swipe of his finger. “Disband the Lyran Armed Forces? And who’ll protect my realm without them?”
“That’s the job of the SLDF, Archon.”
“And a fine job they’ve done so far,” Barbara complained. “Davion regiments are burning three of my worlds to the ground and the SLDF does nothing.”
John folded his arms. “While I see the theory behind the proposal, the Chancellor has rather hit the nail on the head, Lord Cameron. As difficult as it might be for our realms to engage in armed conflict without regular military forces in our service, the SLDF was asked to intervene after the Demeter attack and – as much as they might have wished otherwise, they were prevented from doing so. By this Council.”
“My government had no hand in that attack,”
“That’s beside the point, Chancellor. Our armed forces fill the role of responding when the SLDF cannot. I can see some benefits but as it stands I don’t believe this is practical. Perhaps we could discuss alternatives.”
“This isn’t being placed before the Council for a vote,” Richard exclaimed. “It’s an executive order by the First Lord. This – is – law!”
“Who told you that you could make a law like that?” Beatrice Avellar sounded tired already. “Even my people, who mostly despise the use of arms, would not accept such a law.”
John was sure he wasn’t the only one who looked at Amaris.
“Come now, my friends,” the man offered warmly. “Would we not all be better off without spending such vast portions of our taxes on guns and armaments?”
“You presume much in calling me your friend,” Kurita told him coldly. He looked past Amaris to Richard. “We are free to govern our realms as we wish. No council lord, not even the First Lord, may command us to do this. You have been misled.”
“I will not be spoken to like that in my own palace,” the teenager bellowed.
“Well where do you usually go for it?” jibed Ewan. “This is Amaris’ idea, I can smell it. Send all our troops home and then you’re the only one with any soldiers. We’d have to do anything you say – sorry, anything your ‘good friend’ has to say.” He reared up. “Well it’s not happening!”
“Let’s all calm down.” John spread his hands. “I’m sure the First Lord has the best of intentions and putting some check on the recent military build-up isn’t a terrible idea, even if this isn’t quite the way to do it.”
“I need my regiments to guard me against you, Davion.” The Chancellor slammed the heels of her hands against the table. “Never, not ever, will I agree to this.” She stabbed one finger across the table towards Amaris. “You are a viper at the Cameron’s breast! We should have sent you away long ago.”
“A good idea!” shouted Ewan. He stood. “Let’s throw him out of a window and see if the Rim Worlds has a real leader somewhere.”
John pushed his chair back, to block the Captain General’s passage. “That’s not a good -”
“Guards!” Amaris howled, throwing his chair back. “Guards, protect us! Protect the First Lord!” He clutched at Richard’s chair, staring wildly at John and Ewan, then – absurdly, turning his head to gaze aghast at the elderly Coordinator – the man was a hundred and fifteen years old! – as he reached for his cane.
Doors opened and a squad of the Black Watch burst in, although at least they had the good sense to keep their weapons pointed safely at the floor. The Marik tried to push past John, who forced his chair back again to keep blocking him.
Fortunately, a fresh voice entered the chamber. “Stand down!”
The commanding tones brought the soldiers to an abrupt halt and even Ewan halted to look at the main doors where Aleksandr Kerensky stood silhouetted in the light of the outside passageway.
Slowly the general walked past Avellar, Calderon and Kurita to the upturned seat Amaris had leapt out of. “Put the seat back please,” he instructed the nearest solder. Two of them picked up the high backed chair. “There will be no violence here,” Kerensky declared. “Nor threats of it against any member of the Council. Return to your posts.”
The Black Watch saluted and the Star League Council watched as they filed back out of the room.
“Lord Marik, Lord Amaris. Please, take your seats.” Kerensky gestured gracefully to the chair next to Richard and Amaris sank gratefully back into it. Ewan waited, then kicked spitefully at John’s chair before returning to his own place.
John pushed his chair back in place. “Thank you, General.”
Kerensky nodded drily and glanced at the holographic display of Executive Order 156, still hovering in front of Richard. “A daring solution, my lord,” he said gravely. “But without the support of the Council, my understanding is that the courts would find it to be unconstitutional.”
“Very well.” Richard struck a control. “The order stands as withdrawn. Keep your soldiers, squabble as you wish.” He rose to his feet. “You’re all dismissed.”
“We have many other matters to debate, Lord Cameron.”
“I said, dismissed!”
John watched as the youth stormed out of the door. Amaris rose to his feet nervously and bowed slightly. “I’ll endeavour to…” He hesitated. “Ah, excuse me.” He followed the First Lord and many eyes followed him.
“What a worm,” Ewan sneered, long before Amaris could have left earshot.
“Perhaps we should adjourn for the day,” John suggested diplomatically. “Let some tempers cool.”
“Very well.” Liao stood. “Though there is nothing hot about my temper, Prince Davion. Rest assured that it is very cold indeed.”
Perhaps they had another definition of cold on Sian, John thought, recalling her earlier venomous behaviour. Or perhaps that had been an act.
“You should have given Ewan the chance,” Hanse told him. “It would have solved a lot of problems.”
-
Court of the Star League, Unity City
Terra, Terran Hegemony
18 February 2762
No one had seen Richard Cameron outside his apartments since the disastrous council meeting. For two days, the other Council Lords had gathered in twos and threes, trying to come to a consensus on the various agenda items.
At least on minor matters, they’d managed to get at least four of their peers to come to agreements so some business was being cleared, but where only three had a consensus the First Lord’s vote could overturn them and thus they were stuck waiting for Richard to emerge.
“In my history he never called the Council together again,” Hanse had warned John. “So much for making a good start.”
That was what brought him to the elegantly laid out residence of the First Lord. Perhaps ironically, Richard was the first Cameron to make Unity City his primary residence. The previous First Lords had primarily resided in the traditional capital of the Hegemony, Geneva, and visited Unity City only in pursuit of their official duties. Yet since he’d been orphaned, eleven years before, Richard had barely ever left the Star League’s capital. John wasn’t sure he’d ever been to Geneva.
If his father had lived, Richard would have been gradually brought into the responsibilities of government through taking on some of the responsibilities of Director General. Simon Cameron had exercised the full range of those duties, governing the Hegemony and learning many valuable lessons before his father’s demise.
Would Joshua do much better if he were taking on the role right now, John thought as he walked through the gardens towards the front entrance. It wouldn’t be the same, thankfully – our laws of succession protect us from anyone taking office without military service first. Joshua served as a Mechwarrior first, now he leads a lance and perhaps a company before he’s put in his mandatory years. But we expect an untested eighteen year old to sit amongst men and women decades his senior and lead us.
In the olden days, the guards at the door might have dropped halberds or some other pole-arms to block his way. In these modern days, they had rifles which wouldn’t be quite as effective – of course, the locks were better too. “The First Lord isn’t expecting visitors,” the taller of the two advised blandly. Behind her helmet it was impossible to tell if she had identified John or not.
“I’m aware. But please pass on that I’m here anyway and I’d like a little of his time.”
The guard shrugged almost imperceptibly. “Central, please advise the First Lord that the First Prince of the Federated Suns is at the front door and wants to speak with him.”
John turned and looked back at the garden, then scanned the windows, wondering of anyone was looking out at him from behind them. Hanse winked and then walked right through the door, completely ignoring the guards.
It was several minutes before he received a response. “The First Lord isn’t receiving visitors, sir.”
“That’s unfortunate.”
“He’s in the library, watching you on a security camera,” Hanse advised, sticking his head out one of the windows. “You’ve got his attention.”
Well, he could work with that. “In that case, hmm. Well, when his grandfather was unable to tend to his duties I believe it was his sister Jocasta who handled them. Please ask if Lady Elizabeth would have time for me.”
The guards paused. “Sir, that’s… You’re aware that Lady Elizabeth is only sixteen?”
I’m also aware that Richard viewed her first and foremost as a rival for their parents’ affections. “I’m a happily married man. Now pass on my request, if you please.”
Hanse pulled his head back through the window and a few moments later the door flew open, revealing the First Lord wearing riding breeches and an embroidered vest. “What do you want!?” Richard demanded sharply.
“To be heard out. Preferably not on the doorstep, like a bailiff chasing unpaid bills.”
“I don’t owe you anything.”
“Not even basic courtesy?” John asked delicately.
Richard flushed and then stepped back. “Fine then, come in.” Inside he directed John to the library, taking a seat at a throne-like armchair while offering no other seat. “I’m not sure how much courtesy you displayed back in the council though.”
“I kept Ewan from doing something regrettable to Lord Amaris.”
“It looked more as if you were about to join him.”
“If I was to do that, Lord Cameron, I would have stood up.” John let a smile cross his face. “I’d have looked rather ridiculous pushing my chair backwards around the table to menace poor Stefan.”
The possibility didn’t seem to have crossed Richard’s mind and he considered it for a second before nodding. “Perhaps you’re right, but you made it clear where you stand before that. I thought from your earlier correspondence that you supported disarmament.”
“With your Executive Order – yes, I won’t pretend otherwise. You made a mistake there, I’m afraid. Presenting it as a motion for consideration could have had some real debate going and made a difference. But what’s done is done. All we can do is learn from the experience and move forwards.”
“Why should there be debate? With no armies between you there would be no border wars.” The First Lord’s eyes narrowed slyly. “Your family wouldn’t have suffered so much thirty years ago, if the Coordinator hadn’t been able to send ‘Mechs to fight for Vincent Kurita’s claim.”
Hanse was shaking his head, not even looking away from the bookshelves where he was examining their contents with the air of an avid book collector unleashed on someone else’s private treasures.
“I’m not disputing the goal.” John considered how to put it. “I’ve nothing whatsoever against Lord Amaris, but his realm has a very centralised government. It clearly works for him, but no other states in the Star League places so much responsibility on one man. All of us, even House Kurita, divide power up for various reasons. You must have had classes on civics, so you must be aware that the First Lord is first among… well, not equals, since you do have a few extra powers compared to the rest of the Council, but near-equals.”
“I don’t need a lecture,” Richard told him petulantly.
“Alright, alright. But please, most political matters aren’t settled by grand sweeping motions. Instead it’s incremental – your ancestor Ian Cameron didn’t bring us together all at once. He won the Member States over one at a time and then spent years fighting to bring the Territorial States into the League. The challenges you’re facing may not be quite so great, but study his methods and there’s no reason you can’t stand as tall in the histories of your house as he, or of other great Camerons. I believe that. But you can’t give up at the first hurdle.”
“So you want to be my advisor?” Richard rose. “To push your agenda in the Council? You’re not doing this for my sake.”
“Good advisors don’t tell you what you must do. They suggest options, they listen to your plans and point out problems they foresee. And any ruler needs a range of counsellors – you have Lord Amaris and if what I hear about you planning on marriage is right, you’ll have a wife soon.”
Richard flushed. “Yes, that’s true.”
“It’s a good start, but you can find others. Spread your net wide, and by all means include people you don’t necessarily agree with. Even if you don’t ultimately take their advice, the fact that the Cameron himself heard them out before making a decision will sometimes sooth people who’d otherwise be upset.”
“They should be listening to me.” The First Lord paced around. “You said you wouldn’t lecture me, but that’s exactly what you’re doing.”
“Then what would you like to say? To me, to the other lords. Where do you want to lead the Star League?” John spread his hands. “We’ve so many matters that are waiting for the Star League Council to decide – that are waiting for you to have your say. To tell us where you stand. We’re listening… we’re ready for you to speak.”
Richard eyed him, waiting. When John said nothing, he returned to his chair and looked up at him. “Are you… begging me?” he asked, in an intrigued voice.
“No.” John shook his head sharply. “If I did that I’d be condescending to you. Treating you like a child. You’re an adult – you’re one of the Great Lords. So I’m addressing you as such.”
“Don’t think I’ll favour you.” Richard looked away and then repeated: “Don’t think I’ll favour you. I’ll reconvene the council – tomorrow.”
Sidebar: The War of Davion Succession
"Davion and Kurita is a bad combination. One family believes they should conquer the universe, the other family won’t ever back down from a fight."
After Mary Davion married the younger brother of Coordinator Takiro Kurita in 2698 she agreed to relinquish her claim upon the throne of the First Prince in favour of her brother Joseph, who inherited in 2703. Mary herself passed away in 2715, leaving behind her three sons who had been raised in the traditions of their father’s family.
House Kurita had always been vigorous and expansionist. Unable to pursue these policies under the Star League, they had instead focused their remarkable energy on reshaping the Combine, firstly by building a new and more central capital and secondly by creating a unitary culture across their realm, one that would provide a powerful national identity. In line with their founder, Shiro Kurita, who claimed descent from an admiral of the Imperial Japanese Navy and had been raised as a latter-day samurai, House Kurita chose to model their ideal society upon Japan in the seventeenth and early nineteenth centuries – or at least how they saw those eras after a remove of some centuries.
In 2715, Takiro Kurita took up the claim of his nephew, asserting at first that Vincent Kurita was Joseph Davion’s rightful heir, and then that Mary Davion had not relinquished her claim at all, instead appointing Joseph as a mere regent until her sons were of age. Unwilling to commit to either side, the Star League Council appointed an investigatory committee and stalled, hoping for a diplomatic solution between two of the most powerful members.
After ten years of wrangling, the Coordinator took the natural next step – the Draconis Combine Mustered Soldiery were despatched to cross the border and seat Vincent Kurita upon his ‘rightful throne’. The first attack was upon the important industrial world of Marduk, which fell rapidly. Fighting spread, with an AFFS counter-attack seizing Combine worlds in an effort to divert resources from the invasion. Meanwhile the Star League Council proved unable or unwilling to move forward and First Lord Jonathan Cameron, who could have ordered the SLDF to restore the peace, had withdrawn into paranoid delusions.
In 2729, having narrowly avoided an SLDF coup, Jonathan Cameron appointed his sister – a cloistered nun – as his advisor and co-ruler in all but name. At last the resources of the Star League were unleashed and within three months the original border was re-established, Vincent Kurita’s claim quashed. This was too late for the First Prince, however. Joseph Davion was captured and decapitated by DCMS soldiers on 20 October 2729, his body recovered by a daring young Thomas Green-Davion.
-
i must say i like this story and the way you are changing history with a dead hanse tossing his two cents worth in to change things for the better and to help his relm come out better then it was when the star leage fell.
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Court of the Star League, Unity City
Terra, Terran Hegemony
19 February 2762
The First Lord had arrived before anyone for this session – anyone but Amaris who once again sat at his side. On seeing them, Takiro Kurita paused and eyed them with inscrutable old eyes before moving to where Janina Centralla had sat herself. “Be as good as to exchange seats with me, Magestrix,” he half-requested and half-directed. “It hurts my neck to have to turn to see the First Lord.”
Centralla eyed him and then shrugged. “Fine.” She moved to sit between Amaris and Calderon, completing a new division of the Council. Now the six voting Lords formed an arc along one wing of the table – Cameron, Liao, Steiner, Davion, Marik and finally Kurita – while the four Periphery lords occupied the other, facing them.
Richard signalled for the doors to be closed. “Our first item of business is the matter of Federated Suns troops on three Capellan worlds. Lord Davion has requested arbitration and Lady Liao has requested SLDF support in removing those forces. Does anyone else wish to have a say?”
“If Liao can’t look after her own worlds I don’t see that it’s my problem.” Unsurprisingly, that came from Ewan Marik.
Takiro shook his head. “Being on the Council makes it your problem. However,” he added smoothly, “I note that the Chancellor declined arbitration and only asked for the SLDF support after Prince Davion and his famous Colonel Stopec had begun to make real progress in taking control of two of the contested worlds.”
“Noted,” Richard said tersely. He looked at Robert Steiner who simply shook his head. “Very well. I call for a vote on whether the Star League should mobilise for war against the Federated Suns, as the aggressor in this matter.”
John blinked and Hanse, who had been shamelessly spying over Barbara Liao’s shoulder, straightened sharply.
“Aye,” the chancellor declared quickly. Silence fell and she looked around for support, finding none.
“Nay,” John said and turned to look at Richard.
“I will assume silence as abstention,” the teenager said haughtily. “With two votes cast and a tie, the motion fails. Are there any motions for war against the Capellan Confederation?”
John shook his head.
“Aye!” called Ewan. “Good plan!” He even broken into vigorous applause that echoed around the room even though everyone else was looking at him in disgust.
“You can’t possibly be serious,” Liao protested. “We are the victims.”
“You didn’t object when I raised the possibility of declaring war on the Suns,” Richard said cheerfully. “Do you wish to cast a vote?”
“Nay!”
“Also nay,” added John.
“Very forbearing of the First Prince,” murmured Amaris. Perhaps it was John’s imagination but the rotund Rim Worlder seemed to be eyeing him suspiciously.
“Two nays, one aye. Motion fails.” Richard shrugged. “Now do correct me if I’m wrong, but as First Lord I can authorise defensive actions by the SLDF without a declaration of war.”
“That is correct.” Nicoletta Calderon gave the other side of the table a snide look. “Will you be separating them like naughty children?”
“More or less.” Richard stabbed his finger down on his controls. The holographic display popped up, revealing General Kerensky’s head, magnified to fill the space. “General, I hope you have contingencies for sending peacekeepers to Valexa and the other contested worlds?”
“I do, sir. LV Corps has three infantry divisions and supporting elements ready to move in and separate the combatants, should the command be given.”
“Do it then. And since they are Capellan worlds, do encourage the AFFS to return to their proper place.” Richard cut the channel. “So, that settles that. Next on the agenda?”
.o0O0o.
Avalon City, New Avalon
Crucis March, Federated Suns
3 April 2762
John’s return from Terra coincided with the arrival of some of the forces from the war. More than seventy individual regiments had participated in some way and many had instead been rotated to new garrison positions. The Crucis Dragoons in particular were replacing well-entrenched regiments that hadn’t moved postings in years – but all four had detached twelve Mechwarriors chosen from those being decorated or promoted to join ten carefully chosen battalions and one of the Ceti Hussars’ combat commands for the triumphant return to New Avalon.
The day had been declared a public holiday and as the units solemnly marched from the space port to Mount Davion the streets were lined with cheering visitors from all over New Avalon and from many other worlds besides.
“You’d not think that there were so many people out there who missed that we didn’t accomplish a thing,” Stopec grumbled from one of the open-topped cars carrying John and his senior officers.
“We accomplished more than you might think,” John told him. “And keep smiling – we’re on display.”
“It was a political victory,” Hanse said from the only free seat, next to the driver. “Worthwhile but a lot less than you were hoping for.”
“We hadn’t seen war since the ‘30s,” the dark-haired prince reminded his Champion. “This was our first test of the reforms Uncle Richard and I have been pushing. And at least we know now that we’ve not made as much progress as we’d hoped. And what you managed with the Dragoons shows us the right direction to go.”
“And where we stand with Cameron.”
“We were never going to be able to keep those worlds. The only person who ever put that out as a goal was Dixon. Now the Capellans know that we can be pushed to the point of crossing the border they’ll have to tread more carefully and so will the Combine.”
“It’d had better be worth it.”
John nodded and waved to a little cluster of school children, who’d apparently been organised as a visit for the occasion. “You saw how much damage was done on Angelsey, just as collateral to the fighting. Imagine that all along the borders – and not just for a year and change, but for decades or a century. That’s what a full scale war would mean. You tell me, is avoiding it worth what our men paid for it?”
Stopec turned his head and forced a smile out of the window to where flags included not only the sword and sunburst but also wolves, bears, jaguars and falcons – the badges of the four Crucis Dragoon regiments. “The League would have to fall first.”
“The League could fall. There have been fractures growing for years and no one seems to be trying to mend them. I don’t mind Richard claiming to be the peacemaker if that gives the League a little more stability.”
The parade reached the edge of the Royal Court, no less crowded but more by government workers or noble families. John spotted a dozen members of the High Council he’d thought would be on their home worlds as the limousine reached one of the formal entrances.
The parade divided with the heavy combat vehicles following a side-road towards the hangers and infantry – riding floats rather than expected to march – instead taking a path towards the barracks. The limousine pulled up before the high neo-classical front of the Chancellery of the Exchequer building. The high pillared Chancellery had become iconic for some reason and thus John made a habit of returning the Castle Davion through it even when he had no particular grounds to call upon this branch of Ways and Means.
Stepping down from the car, John and Stopec waited for the generals in the next car to join them. Paxson and Simons would be available for reassignment now that the campaign was over and Hanse had made excellent recommendations for how they could be employed.
“Are you going to make a speech?” asked Stopec, jerking his jaw to indicate a small group of holovid reporters waiting eagerly near the foot of the stairs.
“Not today. Better to give the soldiers the spotlight today,” John decided. “We’ll touch base with the High Command and then call it a day. Sufficient unto the day is -”
“Down!” Stopec shouted and shoved John violently to the side.
Landing heavily, John rolled down the steps they’d just begun to climb. Almost instantly two of the security men from the next car had dived across him, covering him with their bodies but also pressing him against granite stairs.
“Sniper!” Hanse hissed from somewhere outside his – currently restricted field of vision. “Top of one of the tower blocks – shouldn’t there be police counter-snipers up there.”
“What’s going on?” he demanded from under his guards.
“Michael’s down, doesn’t look serious,” the redhead told him. “Simons and Paxson dragged him down behind the car. Just stay down, a helicopter’s going after that rooftop – should be clear to get inside shortly.”
.o0O0o.
Avalon City, New Avalon
Crucis March, Federated Suns
4 April 2762
Footage of the incident was playing on one of the background monitors in AFFS command centre, one of the media channels that was kept live at all times so John couldn’t get away from it.
“For those concerned,” he announced, “Colonel Stopec only took a glancing hit to the side. Avalon City police and Military Intelligence are continuing their investigation but considering the sniper decided to jump rather than be captured, chances of getting a definite answer to who was behind the incident are slim. Anything else you get from the media is pure speculation.
“Which still leaves the Maskirova as the most likely culprits,” Erik Pond pointed out.
“Most likely, but not confirmed.” John shook his head. “Further inflaming the matter isn’t in the Suns’ best interests so we’re not going to indulge in accusations we can’t back up.”
He took his seat and saw Hanse slip into Stopec’s place on his right. “Alright, what’s first on our agenda today?”
“Jerricho Industries have sent an update on their progress with the Swordsman project.” Heather Green-Davion, Thomas’ niece and head of Supply’s Procurement Department brought up a diagram. “The SWD-3 has completed prototype testing and they estimate that they can have it back in production by the end of the year if funding is approved.”
“Good. What do the test pilots say?”
She checked her diagram. “They’re not effusive, sire. It works, but really it’s not much more than a cut-rate Shadow Hawk – or maybe Andoran’s Clint would be a better comparison.”
“Given that that’s what the goal is, I don’t have a problem with that. And are the technical teams happy that it’ll be reliable in the field?”
“That’s more favourable.” Heather shifted the display to show maintenance reports following each test cycle. “Of course, other than the switch to use modern parts where the originals are no longer available, the Swordsman is a proven design.”
“Rostov’s design.”
John shrugged. “It may have served with General Rostov’s Terran March troops during the Civil War but I’m prepared to give the design a second chance. We’ve stripped our planetary and March militia units of a lot of personnel and equipment in order to build up more line regiments. Something cheap and reasonably capable is exactly what we need to rebuild secondline forces. Unless anyone has strong objections…?”
No further objections were raised and John signed off on payment for the first production run of the Swordsman. “If the first run meets standards then we’ll look at activating the clause to license a second manufacturer,” he instructed Heather. “We don’t want all our eggs in one basket.”
“I’ll make a note of that.” She cleared the display. “Next is Personnel, I believe.”
Eis Moscoe stood. “Training numbers are ramping up on schedule, more or less,” he advised. “The fighting has set back expansion plans but with wounded personnel returning from hospital, we should be able to man two additional BattleMech regiments and three armoured regiments next year, rather than four of each as previously expected. Infantry losses were heavier and had a higher percentage of killed in action, so it’ll be eighteen months before I expect to have brought existing regiments and reserves up to the point we can raise new regiments.”
“You mentioned an interesting point there – concerning might be another word,” John noted. “But we’ll come back to that in a moment. Given their excellent performance in the training exercises on Gambier and then in action on Valexa, the new regiments are to be raised under the colours of the Ceti Hussars. More specifically, General Paxson - who will be taking charge of the Hussars overall – has been instructed to their existing personnel as cadre to expand up to three times their current numbers. New academy and training school graduates are more likely to be replacing volunteers for the Hussars than to be directly transferred – although top ten percenters may request the assignment, as usual.”
“I hadn’t understood them to be heavily engaged on Valexa.” The question came from Vasily Sandoval who wasn’t a regular attendee.
“They weren’t, but they still kept the Capellans hopping – not an easy balance to strike.”
“Ah, interesting.” The duke brightened at that – he’d risen through his excellent grasp of terrain and tactics rather than direct combat experience. “I’d be glad to have them on the Draconian border then, once Paxson’s worked the rough edges off their new regiments.”
“It’s a little early to commit to anything for that,” John told him. “But I’m sure the vote of confidence will be well received. Now, the point I was referring to earlier was the casualty rates among infantry. I realise that they’re not protected by several tons of armour, but that doesn’t mean there’s nothing that we can do to keep losses down. I’ll be ordering a full review of where we could have done better, pulling a panel together from the major academies but two things have stood out even from the overviews and my limited time on Valexa.”
“Firstly, there was a lot of unnecessary administration tied up in handling the wounded. I’m not saying that any medical personnel were less than diligent, but they were also spending too much time handling paperwork because casualties came from outside their particular arm.”
“Secondly, some regiments saw disproportionately heavy head wounds among their wounded and killed. Unsurprisingly, those regiments are the ones who customarily issue caps rather than helmets in the field. Now I’m not a great believer in trampling on traditions unless there’s good reason, but I believe that the lives of our soldiers are damn good reasons to look at traditions and see if they’re becoming a liability.”
There were nods around the table. “The solution about headgear is obvious, sire. Withdraw caps for combat duty and make helmets mandatory for all units. I can have a new uniform regulation drafted and ready for review by next week,” Moscoe offered.
“Make it very clear, Eis. I don’t want any wriggle room. If any regimental commanders feel they can’t live with the changes, there’s plenty of room for them as battalion commanders – or as riflemen.”
“That, I can do.”
“Good man. The second step is to reform our medical arms. What I’m looking at is pulling all medical services out from under the administration of the combat corps and navy, organising a specific medical corps that’ll handle all medical needs across the entire AFFS.” John paused and then cupped his hands. “Is that outraged screaming I hear from your department, Van?”
“Not so funny, sire.” The head of Military Administration, Vanessa Manabe raked her greying hair back. “Given the amount of paperwork we already trade for those services, I can probably free up a lot of desks, so there will be screaming.”
“Just give me the names and I can ship them out to the far corners of the realm,” offered Moscoe with a grin. “I can always use more field grade officers and sergeants for staff slots.”
John chuckled. “It’ll only get worse, Eis. But I’m not married to the idea yet – if anyone has alternative solutions then I’m open to recommendations. I’d like to have a decision by September, in time for the next budgetary discussions so we’ve got time to put proposals together.”
“Speaking of staff positions…”
“Something you forgot for the agenda?” asked Pond. “Or sneaking it in?”
“Nothing hugely important.” Moscoe fiddled with a stylus. “We’ve been considering inserting a new rank between the current Major General and Colonel ranks with the number of multi-regiment commands that we’re having to deploy with the expanded force numbers.”
“Yes, Leftenant General isn’t it?” asked John.
“Well NAMA threw a fit – apparently we used to have the rank but it sat between Major General and General, not where we want the new rank.”
“I see…” John said slowly, broadly hinting that he didn’t.
“How is a leftenant more important than a major,” asked Manabe in confusion. “Besides, don’t the SLDF have Leftenant Generals with the basic position you’re talking about?”
Moscoe chuckled. “Yes, but apparently they’re wrong. You really don’t need the headache - or at least I don’t. Ask Professor Quinn if you’re really interested. Anyway, to keep them happy we’ve changed the name and picked something historically appropriate and easy to remember. Since the new rank is for brigade command, it’ll be Brigadier General.”
Hanse shook his head. “Leftenant General worked perfectly well in my AFFS,” he complained.
“Whatever keeps the historians happy,” John decided. “That’ll be fine, Eis. You can start shortlisting promising Colonels for me, just make sure we’re not restricting our selection to Mechwarriors. There’s a lot of talent in the other arms and we can’t afford to waste good soldiers with any kind of glass ceiling.”
.o0O0o.
Summer Palace, Sian
Sian Commonality, Capellan Confederation
9 August 2762
Among the Chancellor’s many interests was art. Long before she took office, she’d begun the process of redecorating the Summer Palace and acquiring objects d’ art to fill its rooms. Several recent acquisitions stood in her office, giving her time to consider where they might be placed for maximum effect.
Since his mistress repositioned her acquisitions on whim – or as she put it, to compare the light – and moved items in and out, Tai Yang Gwak found there was always a certain challenge in threading your way past them to the desk. Younger and healthier men might have found it easier, but his next birthday would be his ninetieth.
“You summoned me, your Excellency.”
Barbara Liao looked up from the document she was studying. “I have been known to do that, Director.”
“It’s always my pleasure to attend to your desires.”
“I’m glad you enjoy your work, Tai Yang.” She pointed to one of the stands. “Look at that picture, then the one next to it.”
Obediently, the old man compared the two.
“What’s your first thought,” asked the Chancellor.
He considered. “Should there be a third one, between the two perhaps?”
“Exactly!” She closed down her computer. “They’re part of a series of landscapes by the 22nd century artist Frankie Lam and I’m missing one. Well, two, but the other one was inferior and these two would be perfect for the green suite if I had the one that belongs between them as well.”
“I shall see what I can do for you, your Excellency. I assume that the owner is not one of your patriotic subjects.”
Barbara Liao gave him a sour look. “The Duke of Bolan. I made him a very decent offer.”
Tsk. That always complicated matters. “Something may be feasible, your Excellency.”
“And while you’re here,” she folded her hands in her lap. “I’m concerned by some of the recent recommendations I’ve received from the Strategic Military Director.”
Ah, the real issue, Tai Yang thought. “The analysis of the recent unpleasantness on Valexa and Angelsey.”
“Precisely. It appears that the Command Council are not in favour of the theory that the sudden inability of the deployed forces to resist the AFFS during the last months of the campaign was not due to any great excess of tactical or strategic skill on the part of Prince Davion or of his Champion.”
“While it is pleasing to believe that the enemies of the realm are paragons of ineptitude, this may breed a degree of overconfidence.”
“To clarify, they concede that the Prince is marginally more able than General Dixon, who they were able to constrain adequately. However, they believe that the defensive positions held by our forces were sufficient that neither inspired leadership nor the increase in troop numbers by the AFFS were decisive factors.”
“These being factors that the officers in command of Sarna Commonality lack, it is pleasing to think that they are held in low regard.”
“Would it surprise you to learn that they feel the key advantage posed by the AFFS was that Prince John organised his forces into a series of hierarchical brigades and divisions with a chain of command that permitted officers to operate with improved coordination and discretion rather than directing all operations through a single planetary headquarters?”
“That is a very interesting position for them to suggestion, your excellency. One might almost think that a similar degree of organisation is being advocated as an innovation by the Strategic Military Director.”
“Quite. I take it I don’t have to remind the director of why my ancestor abolished all military ranks above that of Colonel in 2455?”
“While I’m not quite so old as to have first-hand knowledge of the event, the sad death of Chancellor Stephan Liao and the quite reasonable measures taken by his successor are familiar to me in general.”
The Chancellor nodded. “Tai Yang, please ensure that the Strategic Military Director is acquainted with the reasons that his position is unacceptable.”
“The virtuous actions of one’s ancestors are always to emulated, Excellency.” Tai Yang bowed deeply. “One must enquire if there is any other way in which I may serve you?”
“Perhaps. Is there more news regarding Prince Davion’s near encounter with mortality in April?”
“Nothing convincing, alas. Certain evidence pointed towards the Terran Hegemony but my understanding is that the evidence was felt to be a fabrication. Without any further leads, it seems likely that the official response will be that it was a lone madman.”
“I would be exceptionally displeased if it were to be associated with us, Tai Yang.”
“There are two unquestionable points of evidence that prove that the Maskirova were uninvolved, Excellency,” the Director of that agency replied calmly. “Firstly, that you have never ordered such an operation and we would never presume to make a move of such strategic weight without your express approval.”
“And second?”
“He missed, your excellency.”
The chancellor was laughing merrily as Tai Yang made his way back towards the door, already considering who he might assign to the assassination and the acquisition that he’d been charged to arrange.
.o0O0o.
Avalon City, New Avalon
Crucis March, Federated Suns
21 September 2762
“That’s it!” Hanse exclaimed loudly, right as John was taking his shot. While it didn’t entirely ruin his shot, the laser hit the target on the 8 ring rather than dead centre, which he felt he could reasonably have expected given his last four shots had been perfect.
“Aha,” General Manabe said cheerfully as the prince valiantly fought not to shoot a death glare in the direction of the abashed ghost. Given the head of Military Administration had only been one point behind her commander-in-chief. “A little distracted, were you, sire?”
“I don’t make excuses.”
She lined up her shot carefully… and penetrated the nine-rang. “Ah, deuce it!”
“A draw’s a draw.” John picked up the two ten dollar bills between their shooting positions and handed one back to Manabe. “Better luck next time we’re requalifying.”
“There’s no way it’s a draw. The computer’s going to percentage score us on how close we were in each ring.” Manabe waved the money in front of John. “Just wait for it to keep processing.”
John sighed and stripped the power pack out of his rifle, safing it as they went back to the range master. “Sign us off for the re-qual?” he asked.
“Pair of forty-eights is well in the zone, sire.” The sergeant accepted the rifles to return to storage in the arms locker.
“Full scoring please,” Manabe requested. “There’s money riding on it.”
“Oh?” Poking at the computer, the range master printed off two result cards. “Here you go, forty-eight point six-two and point six-one.”
Manabe stared at the second printout and made a pained noise. The prince held out his hand and she grudgingly handed over the ten dollars. “I was so close!”
“Yes, but you need to learn when to quit,” he advised and dropped the notes into the Widows and Orphans collection box on the desk. It wasn’t as if the AFFS didn’t have pensions and other insurance for the families of their dead, but sometimes the fund managed a more personal touch.
The two parted ways and John opened the door to the emergency stairwell to go back upstairs rather than the lift. The exercise was a good excuse and no one else really used them. “So what was that about?” he asked once they were a flight of stairs up from the range.
“We’ve been looking for somewhere to hide orbital factories,” Hanse reminded him.
“Ah, and you have an answer?” Several of the more advanced military technologies required manufacture in micro-gravity, which certainly wasn’t unaffordable but as Hanse’s hindsight pointed out, left the factories vulnerable to warship raids or even fighter strikes, unlike more conventional facilities that could be dug into the ground beneath mountains or any number of other planetary locations. In the Succession War he’d told John about, virtually all factories producing vital materials as endo-steel – very useful in ‘Mech chassis and heatsinks – had been destroyed by strategic raids.
“Tortuga!”
John frowned. “Where?”
Hanse groaned. “It’s a pirate stronghold between the Outworlds Alliance and the Taurian Concordat,” he lectured. “Tortuga’s a fairly nice world, actually, but the pirates just stripped what they could easily get at. We tracked it down in 3042 and finally wiped the pirates out. Even if the Tortuga Pirates are known, no one knows it’s there – it isn’t even on Star League maps.”
John paused on a landing. “So you’re suggesting we move orbital factories out to somewhere in the periphery? That doesn’t exactly sound secure.”
“The star has quite a deep gravity well and some massive asteroid belts that are well above the orbital plane of Tortuga itself. Short of a star cluster like the Hyades, it’s as secure as it could be – low emissions factories could work there with no one the wiser even if they did happen to jump in.”
“That does sound promising,” he agreed thoughtfully. “But we’d need to get some troops out there to secure the place first – the pirates would be an immediate threat – and then ship a lot of tooling at a minimum.” Starting up the stairs he stretched out his hands.
“We have the perfect cover just waiting to be used,” Hanse explained teasingly. “Think about it.”
“I’m not really in a mood for games, Hanse.”
“The solution is the military exercises scheduled for next year. Almost two hundred regiments drilling in the Crucis March – with all those ships moving, it would be simple to detach a few regiments without mentioning it and send them out with sealed orders. Since all troops movements are intended to move under wartime security, no one will be surprised if they can’t identify all the units – in fact, changing markings for some units so the assigned regiments can be sighted a couple of times should cover for it even within the AFFS.”
“Until they get back at least,” John conceded. “But I suppose that most of the soldiers wouldn’t need to know where they are or that they were doing more than eliminating a pirate stronghold. The sensitive data would be in the hands of the ship crews.”
“If you can’t find two or three reliable jumpship crews, then you have bigger problems than I realised.”
John shook his head and began climbing the stairs again. “So, out of interest, how precise is your information about Tortuga – from what you’re saying it’s not a good system to jump into and I don’t recall your myriad skills including being a jumpship navigator.”
“That’s true,” Hanse admitted thoughtfully. “I can probably narrow it down to within about… a thirty light year sphere, say?”
“That’s the better part of twenty seven thousand square light years,” he calculated. “I can see why it took you hundreds of years to find them.”
“Turn the Ministry of Information loose on the problem. Discreet investigation and analysis is what they exist for. Some of the pirate raids over the last few hundred years might have clues.”
John shook his head. “What can you tell me about them?”
“Well the original settlers were a tank regiment from the Reunification War. They went rogue after a mission went wrong and settled on Tortuga to nurse a grudge.”
“Are you telling me they’re a rogue Taurian colony? Because that’s not the sort of people I want near a secure factory.”
“Rogue AFFS, actually. The 237th Light Cavalry regiment I think – it’s not something I kept close tabs on.”
“I see.” He reached the landing for the residence wing and paused at the door. “Are there any other little surprises lurking out in the Periphery I should know about.”
“Last time I told you about someone, you decided to give the Crucis Dragoons badges for the Invading Clans. I’m thinking a lot more carefully about what I tell you.”
Sidebar: History of the Capellan Confederation
"I swear I will run my husband through should he ever dare to threaten your freedoms."
The last of the six major states of the Inner Sphere to coalesce, the Confederation was the result of political instability on the part of the Capellan Commonality, one of several smaller states occupying the densely colonised region between the expanding Free Worlds League and Federated Suns. The Hegemony’s constitution gave their neighbours a problematic degree of access to their elections, to the point that candidates were less known for their domestic positions than which foreign sovereignty backed them.
In 2365, Prime Minister Tucas of the Commonality was assassinated and the election of his successor deadlocked between three candidates before descending into a fiasco that paralyzed the Commonality for more than a year. President Reynard Davion of the Federated Suns announcement that he would be sending peacekeepers to occupy Capella was the final straw. A convention of all the states in the region gathered to seek a solution to their problems, among them Tucas’ son-in-law, Duke Franco Liao who represented independent worlds such as his own vest-pocket duchy who espoused a message of Pan-Capellan Unity.
After a dramatic promise from Franco’s wife that she would personally ensure their liberties would be protected, the Duke was granted emergency powers for 400 days by the governments of Tikonov, Sarna, Sian and St Ives. The outvoted Capellan Commonality representative was arrested after he declined an offered place as Franco’s deputy and House Liao’s ascendancy was complete. Less than a year later, Davion regiments entered the Capellan’s capital city only to be isolated by newly combined Confederation Navy and given the chance to surrender. Believing the Capellans would never bombard their own city cost Reynard Davion three crack regiments.
While House Liao’s position as Chancellor is not guaranteed, they have provided almost every Chancellor of the Confederation since Franco, as well as maintaining strong positions in the Prefectorate Council and House of Scions that make up the legislative body of the Confederation. Commanding the weakest military of the Inner Sphere, House Liao has produced several key figures in diplomacy. In 2412 Chancellor Aleisha Liao was able to persuade seven other major states to join her in formalising the Ares Conventions, a code of war that drastically reduced the civilian casualties and collateral damage of the pre-Star League conflicts. A century and a half later, Terrence Liao was among the first rulers to throw his support behind Ian Cameron’s Star League.
Four hundred years after Franco Liao was granted as many days to save the Confederation that salvation remains very much in doubt. The loss of many the liberties that his wife had promised to guard is not.
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Love the sidebars!
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"Van Dorne" and "Bradford"? I see what you did there. O0
I will admit to some surprise that Hanse even remembered the name of the unit that founded the Tortuga Dominions, but I suppose we've all got odd bits of trivia floating around.
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Avalon City, New Avalon
Crucis March, Federated Suns
27 January 2763
John rapped his knuckles lightly against Gabriel Dixon’s face.
Alas, it was only a picture.
Even more regrettably, it was the cover of a book.
“Memoirs of the Border War,” he read. “Well, I suppose I can’t fault the publishers for thinking this would sell well.”
Owen gave him an apologetic look. “It seemed to be, sire. The bookshop I was in had it on prominent display.”
“Have you read it?”
“I skimmed it,” the secretary admitted. “He seems to have perceived himself as being as much at war with the High Command as the Capellans.”
“Thank you for the heads’ up, Owen. Do you mind if I hold onto it? It’ll save legal getting another copy so they can see if there’s anything that needs to be dealt with or if we’re better off ignoring him.”
“You’re welcome, sire.”
“Take the cost out of the petty cash,” John reminded him.
“I’ll do that, sire.” Owen went back out into his office to prepare for the day as John flipped through the first few pages. “Oh, Colonel Stopec? Yes, his highness is in…”
Michael Stopec barged in without waiting. “Sire, have you seen this tripe?” he demanded, holding out what John guessed was another copy of Dixon’s Memoir. It was hard to tell with the Mechwarrior’s large hands clenched so tightly around it the cover was bent.
“It’s most likely what Owen just brought to my attention.”
“Have you read it?”
He took a deep breath. “Michael, sit down. No, I’ve just barely taken a look. I don’t count Dixon among my admirers though, so I doubt he’s complimentary.”
“Sire, he is outright accusing you of manufacturing the stalemate so that you could sweep in and take credit for the victory.”
“Well we do have a free press,” John said ruefully. “I suppose we could have legal ask the publisher to list as fiction for any future sales.”
“It’s an insult to everyone who served on Valexa! To everyone who died fighting!” Stopec drew himself up. “I request a leave of absence, sir.”
John eyed his champion. In the years he’d known him, the Colonel had never seemed to be so close to erupting with unbridled emotion. “What, exactly, are you planning on doing?”
“It is a matter of honour, sire. I will challenge him.”
Resting one elbow on the desk, John buried his face in his hand. “No, Michael. Just, no. That is the last thing we need. Neither Dixon or his trash deserve that sort of attention.” He raised his other hand. “I appreciate – I am deeply moved, that you and – I am sure – other officers of the AFFS feel so strongly but Dixon does not deserve or merit the attention that you would bring to him in killing him, much less if he somehow won.”
He straightened. “No. I will have legal check it and if he’s done something legally objectionable then a court case will be considered, but for the most part this is best left to be ignored and forgotten. Just like Dixon is. Don’t dignify it with a response.”
“And if I’m asked.”
John considered that point and then shrugged. “Then laugh.”
“Laugh.”
“Indeed. Laugh at him – that will hurt him in a far more lasting way than any injury you inflict with your Rifleman.”
In the end it took twenty minutes to convince Stopec not only to refrain from grievously harming the retired General, but also to insist on the same restraint from the rest of the Guards. With all that said, if John had been on Dixon’s shoes he’d have stayed clear of any dark alleys for the foreseeable future.
Hanse arrived just as the Colonel was leaving, saluting the man even though he knew it wouldn’t be returned. “What had him here this morning?”
John pointed at the book.
“Oh?” The redhead looked closer. “Oh,” he said again in understanding. “Going to do anything about it?”
“No.”
“Tempting though.”
“Immensely,” John agreed under his breath and then tapped his intercom. “Owen, I’m ready for the mail now.”
.o0O0o.
Court of the Star League, Unity City
Terra, Terran Hegemony
15 April 2763
Given some of Richard’s self-aggrandizing ideas over the first year of his reign, John wouldn’t have been surprised if his wedding celebrations had attempted to surpass the scale and splendour of his coming of age. However, the event was surprisingly restrained – certainly, the cathedral wedding had been grand but there had been also a stately simplicity to the Presbyterian ceremony.
The guest list had been sizeable but it was mostly to those who could not sensibly be snubbed and if Unity City was still cluttered with cronies whose main qualification to be present was a skill for flattery and inveigling favours out of the young First Lord, at least they were being carefully kept clear of public view.
The bride herself was no great beauty, but there was a stubborn look to her jaw that John liked the look of. Edwina took to Elise Graham – who became Elise Cameron upon the ceremony - as well, which raised some hope of some back-door restraint on the First Lord.
If there was one blot on the event it was that three Lords had declined to attend, instead sending representatives who delivered the bare minimum participation.
“We have squeezed all the blood from the stone that can be had,” Takiro Kurita counselled in the Council Meeting before the wedding. Richard had proposed additional taxes upon the Territorial states, to make up deficits in the League budget which he claimed went back to the beginning of Kerensky’s regency.
Hanse had simply shaken his head. “Amaris took it, no doubt, but try telling Richard that.”
“I have no influence at the court,” Kerensky told John at the reception. They’d stepped aside and were occupying a balcony looking out over Puget Sound. “If Richard had someone to replace me then he would, but we all know trouble is building in the Periphery and none of the other Generals have been receptive to his overtures.”
“I don’t need to tell you how dangerous it is for the SLDF to hold the First Lord in contempt,” John warned.
“No, you don’t.” Kerensky looked up at the sky. “But he is what he is. Perhaps young Elise will change him for the better. I’ve certainly failed him.”
“Is there anything I can do? In the Periphery, if not here?”
“You and Lord Kurita urging caution is a good start,” the general assured him. “But it’ll take more than two of you to bring the Council around. As for the Periphery, it’s mostly data we need – the balance of military power is overwhelmingly in our favour but finding the insurgents is difficult.”
“I’ll have Eric Pond provide your Intelligence Command with anything we’ve dug up. Maybe if we compare notes there’ll be something useful about the Outworlds and Taurian movements.”
“That would be appreciated.” Kerensky sighed. “Can I leave the Council to you, your highness? If things get worse in the Periphery I may need to go out there personally.”
“Are you sure that’s wise? You’ve many fine commanders and there are four territorial states – even you can only be in one place at a time.”
“Three would be enough. But if I can put even one of these brushfires out then that could set enough of an example to bring the rest under control. It took twenty years to bring the Taurians to heel, I’d rather not see this consume the rest of Richard’s reign.”
“Or longer. I’ll do everything I can, general. I don’t want to see the Star League crumble.”
He got a thin smile in return. “Just don’t turn into Jonathon Cameron, seeing doom in every corner.”
“What’s the old saying – ‘even paranoids have enemies’? Well, the prevalence of pessimists is no guarantee that things can’t go wrong.”
“What a happy conversation we’re having when we’re at a wedding.”
“The business of the League goes on,” John said philosophically. “We’d probably better get back inside before we’re accused of plotting in dark corners.”
“Isn’t that what we’re doing?” Kerensky looked at the glass in his hand as if he’d only just realised he was holding it. Glancing over the balcony he tipped the contents out into a plant pot three metres below. “I’m made my necessary appearance, I can make my excuses. That may please the First Lord more than most of the wedding gifts.”
They parted ways and John crossed the hall into the main hall where toasts to the health of the newly married couple were being offered. To no great surprise, he saw that Ewan Marik was in the thick of matters.
“Johnny, thought you’d snuck off with one of the Missy Steiners,” he jeered. The Captain-General’s face looked more yellow than red as he grabbed another glass from one of the servants. “You’re not so disloyal as to refuse to toast our boy-lord as he gets ready to become a man, are you?”
Raising his half-empty glass, John smiled urbanely. “I wish the First Lord all the happiness in his marriage that I’ve found in mine.”
“Weaselly Davion toasts,” Ewan grunted and put his glass to his face. The brandy spilled out of his lips and down his chin, dripping onto the Marik’s uniform and the floor.
“Hurk.” What colour was left on Ewan’s face fled and a pair of aides caught hold of his elbows, bracing him before he could stumble.
John stepped forwards to help and Ewan’s piggy eyes locked onto him. It seemed for a moment that he was about to say something but when his lips opened, all that emerged was a titanic belch, spraying droplets of brandy across the First Prince. The Captain-General closed his eyes and slumped in the arms of the two aides.
“Well, I think we’ve heard everything from the Free Worlds League tonight,” Richard said with a laugh. “I’ll leave the party with you, Lord Davion. Elise and I have other things to do.”
John nodded ruefully. “Quite a wedding.”
Watching them leave he shook his head and turned back to Ewan, now laid out on the floor. The Marik’s still face was stained with brandy and he looked more like a corpse than a living man. On impulse he lifted Ewan’s wrist and checked his pulse.
Nothing. “My god.”
“Sir?”
John pressed his two fingers against the drunkard’s throat, trying to find the carotid. “Call a medical team,” he ordered sharply.
.o0O0o.
Court of the Star League, Unity City
Terra, Terran Hegemony
18 April 2763
With the majority of his peers already assembled on Terra, as well as many of the Free Worlds League’s parliament and other notables, it had been decided that Ewan Marik’s funeral would be carried out on the mother world rather than Atreus. From there he would be ferried back to his family’s estates on Marik and interred in a private ceremony, never again returning to the seat of power he had ruled from.
As the First Prince’s heir, Joshua had been given a place on one of the balconies as speakers tried to eulogise a man whose only virtue had been that he added colour to the Star League Council – which wasn’t much of a virtue when set against the drunken bigotry and threats of violence that he’d brought with him.
“Truly Terra has a vast expertise in the more effete arts and sciences,” a scornful voice advised from two chairs over. “One can hardly tell that he was pig.”
Looking up, Joshua saw that the comment had come from a lanky youth wearing a suit that mimicked the lines of the uniform worn by DCMS officers. “There’s no need to be disrespectful to the dead.”
The young man laughed scornfully. “No one respected the Marik. His heir could not even be bothered to attend.”
“As I understand it, Lord Kenyon is simply too far away to arrive in time for a funeral.” Although a command circuit could have been arranged to bring him within a couple of weeks, Joshua thought.
“Hah. My grandfather tells me the offer was made, and declined.”
“I understood that the culture of the Draconis Combine stressed decorum and revering one’s elders,” Joshua enquired politely. Clearly the young man was from a highly placed family, if he was here.
“One reveres one’s own elders, but need not be blind to the faults of others.” Despite the lofty tone, the youngster’s keen eyes were assessing Joshua. “But in deference to your… refined sensibilities, we may change the subject. You are with one of the Davion Guard regiments, Leftenant?”
“Yes, somewhat the equivalent of your own Sword of Light regiments. Are you considering a military career?”
“I have been enrolled in Sun Zhang academy’s next class,” the boy said proudly. “And you would be a graduate of… hmm, the SLDF’s academy Albion?”
“No, I attended NAMA.”
“NAMA? Oh yes, the other school your capital boasts.”
“It’s something of a family tradition,” Joshua said tightly, stung by the dismissive tone.
“Oh yes, Davion military traditions. I have heard much of them. Did you have the opportunity to see action in your recent… how did Prince Davion phrase it? The ‘punitive expedition’? Before the SLDF sent you home, I mean?”
“Yes, actually. I was on Angelsey with Colonel Stopec.”
The youth blinked. “The Prince’s cyborg champion – a formidable officer, or so I’m told.” The brief moment of respect passed. “A shame that House Davion has so few like him.”
“The only true test of an officer is war,” Joshua replied. “A number of officers showed their mettle fighting the Confederation. Of course, the Combine hasn’t done more than hunt bandits for longer than either of us has been alive. Who knows how sound your junior officers are?”
“We had been longer without war in ’25,” shot back the young Combine noble. “And we saw which of our warriors had stayed strong then. Or those of your soldiers that survived learned that. A shame that so many did not, but the fault must lie with the leaders, must it not?”
“Yes, the rightful leaders of the Federated Suns, not the half breed usurpers raised on Luthien.”
“How dare you!”
“Given that Vincent Kurita is my third cousin, twice removed and specifically barred from the throne, I’d say that I have a pretty good right to speak about him.”
“As his second cousin, Davion, I dispute this. Had I a ‘Mech available… but no, we must be polite, must we not?” The boy bared his teeth. “I am Jinjiro Kurita, second in line to the Combine’s throne. Perhaps one day we shall test what I learn at Sun Zhang against what you have learned from your NAMA. And then we will see if the Suns can truly aspire to challenge the Dragon.”
“Long may your grandfather and father enjoy good health,” Joshua told him. “But if it comes to that, don’t expect to see the same successes your grandfather found thirty-six years ago. This time we will be ready.”
.o0O0o.
Tilley, Bonneau
Crucis March, Federated Suns
7 June 2763
The replacement for her Dervish still felt sluggish to Susan. While she’d been allowed to bring the medium ‘Mech from the Cuirassiers originally, the Crucis Dragoons were intended to field heavy/assault machines and she’d received a suitable BattleMech directly from the factory.
Suitable, in this case, meant something even heavier than the Warhammers of her line companies and she constantly felt as if she was on the brink of being left behind by the rest of the battalion.
“Enemy elements moving through the woods up ahead.” Van Dorne had at least picked up on the importance of letting her know what he was dealing with. “We’re seeing ‘Mechs but no supporting elements yet.”
“Are you under fire?”
“No, I think they’re more a recon force than a skirmishing screen. Nothing heavier than a Dervish.”
Susan considered her options. First battalion was paired with infantry again, a regiment of line infantry and a battalion of engineers, with a mission of securing the terminus of the tunnel dug beneath the Tilley channel. If the enemy ‘Mechs were in significant strength then the task force would be out-gunned.
“Colonel,” she reported. “We’re looking at an enemy BattleMech force between us and the objective. We might be able to push them back but if they have significant forces, then screening your transports could become an issue.”
DeWitt’s voice was steady. “The trees should provide plenty of cover, and we need to deny the enemy the use of the tunnel. We’re pressing on.”
“Roger, we’ll open a path for you.” Susan switched back to the battalion. “Van Dorne, move up into the tree-line and engage the enemy if they don’t fall back. First Company, we’re backing up second. Bradford, keep your company with the infantry and provide supporting fire as you can.”
Confirmations came back from her officers and she pushed her massive ‘Mech up to its maximum speed – a comparatively meagre fifty-four kilometres per hour. Ahead, she saw Van Dorne’s Warhammers firing PPCs into the woods as they closed in, alternating the shots from their Donal PPCs to keep temperatures under control.
“Positive lock, it’s the Eighth Chevaliers.”
Bloody hell – of all the units to run into. She’d known they were on Bonneau, but not that they were anywhere near Tilley. “Understood, Van Dorne. Bradford, watch out for the flanks, they might try to work around us.”
She saw an enemy Phoenix Hawk ahead and hovered her targeting crosshairs over it before realising the Chevalier ‘Mech was still out of range – without LRMs she’d have to get even closer than the Warhammers were. The medium ‘Mech turned and retreated deeper into the woods before she got a lock worth shooting on.
“They’re retreating!”
“Get us a perimeter first,” she ordered. “Don’t pursue and get strung out so you can be picked off.”
“Understood.” The Warhammers slowed and fanned out, forming an arc that moved steadily forwards as Susan’s company reached the woods. Greaney’s fire support lance had been re-equipped too, but the Longbows could keep up with the Warhammers easily – the temperature gauge creeping up on Susan reminded her that she couldn’t.
Behind her, heavy tracked APCs crawled into the cover of the trees. Each carried a full platoon of the soldiers that would be needed to secure the maintenance passageways around the terminus. Open roof-hatches were manned by missile teams but they’d be relatively little help against ‘Mechs.
Looking around, she saw Bradford’s company were only a short distance behind. “Alright, press on.”
The forest was patchy, with more than enough undergrowth to slow them down and long-range sensors were picking up distant hints of metal and temperatures from all directions.
“We’re surrounded, aren’t we?” asked Smythe.
“Yeah, it’s great,” Greaney shot back immediately. “They can’t get away from us now – whichever we go we’ll run into them.”
That got chuckles and Susan felt her own lips curl. “There’s basically two ways this can turn out,” she observed. “Either they let us get to the tunnel, in which case we’ve accomplished our mission, or they try to stop us – in which case a lot of their nice shiny ‘Mechs are going to get dinged up.” And from what she recalled of the Eighth Chevalier’s tech situation, it might take a while for them to be fixed.
Ten kilometres later they reached the highway leading to the tunnel, three lanes each way and more than wide enough for the ‘Mechs and the personnel carriers. Unfortunately they’d also be open to fire from ‘Mechs hidden amid the trees. “Stay within the treeline, just follow the path of the road,” she advised.
“Movement on the right,” Bradford reported. “Wasps and Falcons moving up.”
Light ‘Mechs, but their medium lasers were perfectly sufficient at the close ranges of the woods. Susan nodded in understanding. “They’re trying to push us onto the open ground where we can make more use of our longer range. Probably got their fire support waiting to hammer us. Bradford, pull back to my position, Van Dorne, you still have the lead. Drive through the woods and clear anything waiting. Colonel DeWitt, if you’d be so good…”
“I’m dismounting fire teams to support you,” the infantryman responded. “Anyone pushing in close will find themselves facing a company of my best.”
“Understood, if I don’t catch up then Van Dorne should be able to get you to the objective.”
“There’s no need for melodrama, Major.”
“I mean that literally, sir. I’ve the largest ‘Mech in the task force but it’s the slowest as well.”
He snorted. “Well, you know your business.”
“Greaney, join Van Dorne. Your LRM boats will be needed if they decide to cross the highway to get at the infantry.”
“Roger.” The Longbows picked up the pace, as best they could in the forest, leaving Susan with eight ‘Mechs and eighty-odd infantry to support Bradford’s company.”
“They’re still coming hard,” he advised. “Should we hold on your position?”
“No, we’ll do a bounding withdrawal after the main force. Fall back a hundred metres behind us and we’ll alternate.”
“Got it.”
The twelve Warhammers, one of them now limping, moved past her little force and the Chevalier ‘Mechs – intent on their retreating prey, surged forwards without properly registering that there was another force waiting for them.
SRMs slashed up from ground level as the light ‘Mechs rushed in, enlightening them that they weren’t just fighting the outnumbered Bradford. Susan stepped forwards between two trees and lowered her crosshairs onto the chest of one Falcon, this time seeing them flash gold in confirmation she could expect to hit.
The other Mechwarrior froze a second to process that he was being targeted by an assault ‘Mech. It was a fatal mistake: Susan triggered the arm-mounted lasers and autocannon, all four digging into the Falcon’s chest with savage abandon. Never intended to cope with such a barrage, the Falcon reeled backwards and shut down, her tactical display indicating that the right chest had been gutted and the centre completely bare of protection.
The Chevaliers fired jump-jets to try to break tactical locks and avoid the infantry missiles. However, even the Blackjacks of her air defense had them outgunned with four medium lasers each while the smaller ‘Mechs had only singletons backed up by secondary weapons.
“Pull back to the next line,” Susan ordered, satisfied.
The infantry slung their weapons and ran while the ‘Mechs backed more slowly away until they were behind the line of Warhammers. “Bradford, we’re in position, fall back behind us,” Susan ordered. “We don’t want too much of a gap between us and the rest of the force.”
They leapfrogged twice more, the Falcons and Wasps of the enemy trailing them carefully, before Susan’s sensors picked up magnetic mass behind them, moving in from across the highway.
“They’ve got between us,” she advised calmly. “Bradford, we’ll hold here, on your next move, keep going and engage the Chevaliers pushing between us. Force them back on Van Dorne if you can but don’t let up the pressure.”
“Confirmed.” The Warhammers backed towards Susan’s line and then half-turned as they reached her, breaking into a run towards the new contacts. Susan waved the muzzle of one arm to catch the attention of the infantry captain and then pointed after the Warhammers. “Go with them.”
The man nodded and his troops lifted their remaining missile reloads and dashed back into the woods.
Susan eyed the light elements that were carefully closing in, probably expecting an ambush. “On my signal, we’ll jump forwards and surprise the pursuit element,” she ordered. “Knock them back on their heels and then we’ll re-join Second Company.”
“Permission for close combat?” asked Sergeant Harrison, his Wolverine crouching eagerly next to her.
“I know accidents happen,” she told him, “but try to avoid that. We don’t want to get tangled up. On mark, three – two – one – mark!”
Driving her heels forwards, she activated the massive thrusters built into the legs and back of the Emperor. The jets spun up for a moment and then vented superheated air from her reactor, blasting her up on a short parabola and into the Chevaliers.
With the shortest jump distance of any of her force, she’d expected to land short of the enemy but one of the Wasps had moved closer than Susan had realised. She crashed back through the trees and landed almost face to face with the far lighter ‘Mech. Focused on regaining her balance she couldn’t stop the ninety-tons of the Emperor from crashing into the Wasp, body-checking it back into a tree. Reeling as if stunned, the light ‘Mech spun on one heel and crashed to the ground face first.
“That was an accident!” Susan snapped defensively as she looked around for another target and spotted a second Wasp trying to work around behind Harrison’s Wolverine. The three lasers mounted in her chest were easiest to bring to bear and two of them scored on the Chevalier’s rear armour. From the way the ‘Mechs infrared signature spiked she thought it had likely damaged the reactor shielding.
Harrison just laughed and fired his SRMs into a Falcon that was back-pedalling away. Susan fired her autocannon but only hit the tree that the ‘Mech ducked behind. The bar signalling her jump-jets readiness for use reached the safe level and she checked for branches above her. “That’s it, Dragoons. Pull back to re-join the rest of the battalion.”
One of the Mechwarriors gave a howl that was probably supposed to be wolf-like as they jumped back towards their existing position, turning in the air as best they could. Breaking into the best run they could, the eight ‘Mechs headed after their comrades. The Wolverines moderated their pace to stay with her but the four Blackjacks of the air defense lance only waited for their jump jets to recharge before they bounded forwards again.
It took three long minutes to reach the fight – long enough for the Emperor’s heatsinks to vent the heat that had built up in the brief skirmishing. On arriving, Susan wondered at first why the broad clearing hadn’t been marked on the maps, only to realise that it hadn’t existed before almost forty ‘Mechs had begun brawling at point blank range in the woods. Trees were being shredded by stray shots and any of the ‘Mechs that fell or stumbled tore through them.
Half of Bradford’s ‘Mechs were down already – they were fighting Wolverines, Shadow Hawks and Dervishes that didn’t give up as much weight to them as the light ‘Mechs from earlier. The remaining Warhammers were using their PPCs only rarely, relying more on their torso laser clusters and SRM launchers in the close confines of the melee.
The arrival of the four Blackjacks must have swung the balance because almost half the Chevalier ‘Mechs were down. Picking their targets, the mediums were savaging exposed rear armour or damaged ‘Mechs. As Susan reached the edge of what was now the tree line she saw a Dervish bound over one of the Warhammers to fire its lasers and SRMs into the ‘Mechs rear. In doing so it exposed itself to the Blackjacks and two of them added their autocannon to the exchange. When the ‘Mech landed it came down badly, one leg limp and not supporting its weight.
Bringing the Emperor to a halt, Susan picked out one of the more intact Chevalier ‘Mechs and opened fire on the Shadow Hawk, blazing away with the twin autocannon. The Mechwarrior raised the arms of his ‘Mech to shield his cockpit from the barrage and one of the Warhammers took the opportunity to discharge one of the long lance-like PPCs into the weakened armour. With startling abruptness, the Shadow Hawk shut down.
Missiles from the remaining Dervish exploded against her ‘Mech’s thick armour and Susan turned her guns on it, adding the large lasers to the mix. The concentrated damage crippled both the ‘Mechs arms and it began to retreat. Soon the remaining Chevaliers were breaking across the highway into the cover of the woods on the other side.
Susan turned and took stock. She still had twelve ‘Mechs out of the twenty her rear-guard had started with, but several were sporting the marks of damage with weapons out of action and breached armour. “Regroup,” she instructed. “We’ll wait for the infantry to catch up and take prisoners, then re-join the main force.”
Now that the fighting was over, Mechwarriors were climbing out of the downed ‘Mechs and looking around. One of the Dervish pilots took off his neurohelmet and waved it for her attention.
She waggled her autocannon in acknowledgement and switched on her speakers. “You are to be captured, Davionist dog-pig,” Susan declared in the manner of the hokey faux-Combine action flicks that had been a fad when she was a kid.
“Susan!” her older brother shouted. “What are you playing at? I’ve a Leftenant who swears you body-blocked his ‘Mech to the ground and trampled it. The refs are going to court martial you.”
“This is a field exercise, Reuben,” she called back down. “If we were really at war then I would have trampled on him. As it is, the BattleROMs should clear things up.”
Major Reuben Sandoval threw his neurohelmet down and sat down to wait for the infantry to take him custody. For his battalion of the Robinson Chevaliers, the war – Operation GALAHAD – was over.
Sidebar: Alacorn-series Tanks
"It’s hard to go wrong with three whopping great guns."
Developed between 2561 and 2587, the Alacorn Mk VI is one of the most respected heavy tanks in the SLDF, for its dependability in the fire support role. Weighing in at 95 metric tons, the tracked Alacorn can manage a top speed of fifty-four kilometres per hour, which is certainly not its strongest point but is adequate for a direct fire support vehicle.
The original developers, Corben Motors, developed two variants of the Alacorn in parallel, the Mk I with three Class 10 autocannon and the Mk II with three Class 20 autocannon. While the more limited ammunition and armour of the Mk II didn’t impress the Hegemony Armed Forces, the Mk I was considered a promising design. Unfortunately Corben’s attempt at modern armour layers was less than successful and the design wasn’t approved for purchase.
Ten years later, when the Star League first began to organise the SLDF, Corben doubled-down on their original proposal. Unable to resolve the quality problems with their armour they did incorporate a much lighter fusion reactor, solving the ammunition storage issues and layering thicker armour across the chassis. Several hundred of the new Mk III and Mk IV were ordered by the SLDF, but not in sufficient numbers to save Corben from bankruptcy due to the development costs.
New Earth Trading Company picked up Corben’s assets and delivered the ordered Alacorns. Impressed by the design they went to work to resolve the quality control issues with the armour, offering the SLDF an improved Mk V with perfected defences and three Class 10 Autocannons. While this wasn’t accepted, NETC continued to tinker with the design and as the Reunification War began, they submitted the Mk VI, replacing the Mk V’s autocannon with three Gauss Rifles for unrivalled long-range firepower.
This provided to be the vehicle the SLDF had been waiting for and the Alacorn Mk VI has been in production ever since, renowned within SLDF heavy-assault tank regiments as a ‘Mech-killer.
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Love the Alacorn, nice little wargame.
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An Emperor body checking a Wasp. Ouch! O0
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Lovin this. The orginal timeline was great, but this expanded fic is amazing. O0
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LXII Corps HQ, Kaiyuh
Crucis March, Federated Suns
12 July 2763
“It’s not a bad exercise,” McGuiness told her commander. “We’ve got observers in both operational HQs and down to their division and some brigade HQs, so there’s a lot of data for SLIC to look at when it comes to AFFS capabilities.”
Tatjana Baptiste nodded. The commander of the SLDF’s Fourth Army didn’t get excited about much – even things that McGuinness felt that she should. “Give me a thumbnail.”
Gesturing to the local strategic display – her operational area was one of the largest in the Federated Suns Army Group, stretching from the Taurian border almost as far as New Avalon – Roseleen McGuiness highlighted a border. “The scenario called for Field Marshal Waynewright in Chirikof to stage an invasion of the neighbouring Minette region – under Field Marshal MacDonald.”
“Forces?”
“MacDonald has – had – four March Militia formations, along with nine ‘Mech regiments, twenty armoured regiments and thirty-four infantry regiments from the Draconis March. That’s seriously pulled down their numbers on the Draconian border.”
“Four infantry divisions and support, more or less,” Baptiste said, converting the numbers into SLDF formation equivalents.
“Except think of it as made up of independent regiments, most of which haven’t worked together before.” The Corps Commander shrugged. “Organisation above the regimental level tends to be poor for the House militaries, honestly. “He spread two-thirds his force along the border, then held the remaining third in reserve. On the other side, Waynewright had nine Capellan March ‘Mech regiments and twenty-seven tank regiments, along with thirty-one infantry regiments that are split evenly between those from the Crucis March and Capellan March. Add that to three March Militia combat teams. Unlike MacDonald, he took the time to form them into some degree of organisation – ten roughly division-sized outfits, three of them built around his militia.”
Baptiste closed her eyes a moment in thought. “You mentioned brigade headquarters.”
“It’s a little experimental on their part but they seem to have settled on two full regiments to a brigade, along with battalions to support them. It’s not really the equivalent of a SLDF brigade task force, but it’s manageable for their logistics.”
“The other weak spot.”
McGuinness nodded toothily. “And Waynewright made a pretty good job of manipulating it. He’s punched a focused advance as far as Baxley – halfway to MacDonald’s headquarters on Minette – with his main force and turned the three units built around Militia loose to harass the Minette region’s logistics. Something like a third of the jumpships available to MacDonald have been logged as destroyed, completely stranding two ‘Mech regiments near Maram and crippling the ability of the regiments in Broken Wheel to go to the support of Point Barrow where the main push is going.”
“That could be concerning. If the AFFS learn from that then we could be seeing a sharp rise in their effectiveness.”
“Talk about Inner Sphere problems,” McGuinness snorted. “At least while they’re rushing around the bandit problems in this sector have dropped off. No one knows where they might run into one of the regiments from the exercise, so most of the troublemakers have probably looked for safer areas to operate in.”
“Nothing lasts forever, General. How long do you see them as continuing?”
“Maybe two months. After that they’ll really have to push everything back to the borders. Anne Borden told me that trouble there is on the upswing. While the cat’s away…”
Baptiste grunted and looked at the display. “How do you rate them, effectiveness wise?”
“About seventy-five, maybe eighty-percent effectiveness against my line regiments,” her subordinate replied without hesitation. “For Waynewright’s troops, low end of that once you get past regimental-sized engagements. MacDonald’s force organisation is a joke – I could roll them up with the 225th and a couple of combat teams.”
She got a shake of the head for that but Baptiste dismissed the map and walked back to sit in the lounge area. “You wanted to discuss supplies.”
McGuiness joined her superior. “I won’t recount the issues, but we might have found a handle on that.”
She got an arched eyebrow.
“It seems John Davion is serious about patching up relations with General Kerensky. He’s authorised AFFS supply lines to ferry sealed dropships from the Hegemony – no questions asked, first priority even over his own unit’s non-essential supplies.”
“It’s still a security risk.”
The Major General sighed at the kneejerk reaction. “We can’t get those parts in the Suns, they’re proprietary, and so they have to come from the Hegemony. He’s even offered to let us put guards on the dropships. Can you see Liao offering that – hell, would any of the other Council Lords do it? You know how stretched our own jumpships are. This could let us bring our maintenance levels up to where they’ll need to be.”
Baptiste considered that. “I see the benefits. I’ll consider it, but you know how tight security has to be around our hardware.”
“Okay, I understand. But if they turn it down I do have another option.” McGuiness opened a folder. “We have fourteen heavy tank regiments in my operational area that use classified technology. If we redeployed them to LIV Corps’ area that would cut almost two hundred light years off the supply lines for them. In their place we could pull forward heavy tanks equipped with older Merkava and Alacorn models.”
“And where would you get parts for those? They may be older but they’re still Hegemony designs.”
“Johnston Industries have made an offer for a license to build replacement components – and even fresh chassis – on Kirklin,” McGuinness grinned toothily. “That’s in Third Army’s area, but again – it’s a lot closer and no one cares about secure parts for designs that haven’t been used since the Reunification War.”
The Army Commander’s eyes narrowed. “You want me to endorse the license request?”
“If you and General Stangher of the Third sign off on it, General Kerensky is almost certain to approve it.”
“It means giving the AFFS access to design data for heavy combat vehicles – they’re not exactly the First Lord’s favourites after the Border War.”
“Yeah, but you know John Davion wouldn’t have gone in if he’d been able to get the SLDF to do the investigation. He’s a straight-shooter, I think we can do business with him.”
Baptiste held her hand up. “That’s political. I’ll see what my staff think about this. But don’t try to move ahead with authorisation.”
“Who do you think I am?”
Her superior sighed. “That’s why I said it, Roseleen.”
.o0O0o.
The Forbidden City, Sian
Sian Commonality, Capellan Confederation
11 August 2763
There was a certain stiffness in the Chancellor’s posture today. Tai Yang Gwak had learned to recognise it as a sign that she was making a decision of whose merits she remained unconvinced.
“After careful consideration of recent activity by the Capellan Confederation Armed Force,” Barbara Liao announced carefully, “It has been decided that the needs of the state increase the demand upon our military leaders. To ensure that officers in command over the most critical battlefields may be focused upon these tasks, eight officers of the utmost character have volunteered to surrender their existing titles and regimental associations to better serve the Confederation.”
The six men and two women lined up before the throne bowed deeply and dropped to one knee, keeping their faces directed at the polished floor. They had been chosen for reliability, rather than ability although Tai Yang hoped he had managed to identify any truly incompetent candidates for this test. At least they all had useful faults that could be employed to bring them down if the need arose.
As they knelt, servants moved soundlessly down the line, stripping away the various insignia that marked the wearers by their ranks, regiments and positions in the nobility. Four of them originated from the noble Sheng dynasties that dominated the Capellan court, while the other three had possessed life titles among the Barduc warrior nobles. Only one had no title to relinquish. It had taken remarkably little prodding to persuade them to surrender those distinctions, perhaps a sign that the Chancellor’s unease was well founded.
“Today,” the Chancellor declared, “These seven officers are nothing except soldiers. All else has been sacrificed except service to the state.” She lifted her hand and a servant brought out a tray carrying sashes of crimson silk. “And for this service they are granted a new distinction among our soldiers.”
“Aral Ridzik. Step forwards.”
The man who rose stepped forwards was the very image of a professional soldier. Tall, broad-shouldered, a keen eye and crisp movements. Of all of them, Tai Yang felt Ridzik was the least dangerous – he lacked the intellect and connections to undermine the authority of the Chancellor. He could only be a problem if they lost control of his strings and let other people make him their puppet.
Barbara secured the sash across Ridzik’s chest. “As the new Strategic Military Director of the Capellan Confederation, I name you a Marshal of the Confederation.”
Applause greeted the announcement and Tai Yang backed discreetly away while the other officers were appointed as the Directors of Operations for each of the seven Commonalities, and given their own sashes. One of the few pleasant things about growing older – other than not dying – was that as long as you made some appearance at formal events, almost everyone accepted medical excuses for leaving early or arriving late.
Stepping through the entrance to one of the washrooms he opened a locked door that was marked as cleaning stores with a sweep of one ring on his hand against the lock. The interior did have cleaning supplies neatly shelved, but the wall at the end slid to one side with another tap of the ring and a spiral staircase that made his hips ache led down to the working levels of the palace.
The analysts he’d called for were waiting in one of the smaller conference rooms. “Gentlemen, ladies.” Tai Yang seated himself with a sigh. “Let us all take a moment to mourn Ewan Marik. Such a useless Captain-General was a gift.”
His juniors lowered their heads for a moment.
“No need to go overboard though. So, the son? What are his weak spots?”
“He’s driven – highly ambitious. If his father hadn’t died, there was a non-trivial chance he would have mobilised Parliament to remove him.”
Tai Yang nodded. “And now that he has his father’s place, what’s left for him? A young man, not even thirty yet.”
“The most likely outcome seems to be that he’ll find someone to focus his energy against,” a second analyst proposed. “While the backlash against his father leaves him in a generally solid position, the Regulans have yet to commit so they could be a centre for internal opposition.”
“Elsa Cameron-Jones. Cautious but similarly ambitious.” The Director considered. “Given that Duke Allison of Oriente is within the new Marik’s circle of supporters we must assume that the Confederation may be targeted. Rivalry between Oriente and Regulus should be encouraged. Who else?”
“Externally, Marik served with the SLDF until 2757 when he was cashiered by General Kerensky. That suggests he might seek to intrigue against the Commanding General, given the chance.” The woman who raised this lowered her head. “Whether or not it would be advantageous to the Confederation for him to pursue this vendetta is outside my expertise.”
“Highly advantageous,” Tai Yang informed her. “John Davion is aligned with Kerensky and conflict between Marik and Davion is a key priority. To facilitate this… hmm. Did not Davion propose that the SLDF take over additional military academies within the Member-States?”
“There were some suggestions that he was pursuing this prior to the First Lord’s majority.”
“Good. Kenyon Marik graduated from the Allison Mechwarrior Institute. We will arrange to leak Davion’s interest in this, adding that AMI was in consideration. This should reduce the possibility of collusion between our neighbours against us. Remember, the Confederation may be able to withstand a conflict against the Federated Suns or the Free Worlds League, since each has a hostile neighbour we may ally with on their other flanks. We cannot afford to fight both at once.”
.o0O0o.
Nadir Jump Point, Tortuga Prime
Tortuga Dominions, Periphery
21 September 2763
The jump point was defended by a pair of pirate warships.
Well, warships was perhaps too strong a word. They were about the size of 24th century corvettes – significantly smaller than FSS Markesan – but they had in-system drives and what looked like weapon batteries.
They were definitely pirates though and in firing range of the jump-point as the Markesan jumped in.
“Launch fighters.” Light Commodore Kenneth Jones gripped the shock frame of his seat. “Get those dropships loose and get us under power.”
The bridge was close enough to the fighter catapults that the thump-thump-thump-thump-thump of the first five aerospace fighters almost drowned out the distant rumble of the three mighty fusion thrusters half a kilometre behind him igniting.
“Tactical, are they firing?”
“Negative sir.” The leftenant paused and then amended. “No weapons, sir, but fighters are being launched and their drives are lit.”
One good thing, Jones thought and then a groan went through the hull. “What was…?” He caught sight of the ship status monitor and swallowed a curse. “I said cut those dropships loose.”
The dropship collars were technically rated to support the mass of small dropships while under thrust, but it wasn’t recommended – if only because without very careful docking the parent vessel’s angle of thrust wouldn’t align with the bracing of the attached dropship, not to mention what it did to the weight distribution of the combined vessels. And the Overlord-class ‘Mech transport Chieftain currently docked to the Markesan’s D-collar wasn’t a small dropship.
“Colonel Perez has ordered the dropships to remain attached, sir. He’s… he’s preparing to put his ‘Mechs on our hull to support our guns.”
Jones’ lips went pale at the corners. “Trigger the emergency ejection of all dropships,” he ordered flatly. “Helm, give me twelve degrees roll to port and forty percent power on the main drives.”
The Markesan surged forwards and the groaning of the hull was cut off as the first of four detonations cracked the drop-collars. It would take weeks of work to repair them without access to a shipyard, but the Overlord and three Union dropships were unceremoniously detached from Jones’ ship by shaped charges, the roll scattering them like drops of blood from a piercing wound.
“You’re clear to engage,” he added for the tactical officer’s benefit.
The tactical holo-display lit up as the main computers finished rebooting from the jump and collating the sensor data. The two pirates had the Markesan flanked but one of them had been pointed the other way and it was having to flip end on end before they could match trajectory. The second had been on a more comparable vector and the two ships were roughly broadside on, converging.
“At least we must have caught somewhat off-guard,” mused Jones. “Otherwise they could be firing by now.”
“Colonel Perez is on channel two for you, sir.”
“He’ll have to wait.”
The tactical officer confirmed the targeting calculations and the port broadside’s particle beams and lasers fired. Vastly out scaled versions of the PPCs and lasers mounted on ‘Mechs two of the three heavy turrets smashed brutally into the hull of the pirate, only the mid-ships particle beams missing. A moment later and the aft turrets fired on the second vessel as it was still in mid-rotation.
The nearer ship finally returned fire, but it did so with a cloud of smaller munitions rather than with capital weapons of its own.
The small warheads sounded like firecrackers against the hull of the Markesan but sections of the hull flagged as amber, indicating armour had been partially compromised.
“No penetrations, sir, but we’re picking up incidental damage to sensors and to other external fittings.”
“Return fire with our own secondaries, tactical.” Jones checked the location of the four dropships and saw that they were doing the sensible thing and scattering. I told them they needed a cruiser for this, the Markesan’s a transport, she isn’t rigged for contesting a jump-point.
Unfortunately, the second corvette seemed to have given up on chasing after the Markesan and was instead turning towards the Overlord-class, Centurion fighters from the army squadrons sparring with the pirate aerospace craft of the same type.
His own fighters – aged Tomahawks from naval squadrons – were having more success – there were more of them and they were larger than Centurions, with heavier armament. Still, there was no time to waste on this ship if the ‘Mech transports were to be saved. “All hands brace for a 180 degree rotation. Helm, once we’re reoriented I want maximum military power.” Twenty five meters per second squared of acceleration should leave the first pirate overshooting them and with a bit of luck the damage they’d taken would deter them from trying to close again.
The guns fired again and Jones locked his chair into place. “Rotate!”
Navigational thrusters roared and for a nasty moment, gravity pressed everything aboard in the direction of the ends of the ship. The tactical display blinked out and then lit up again.
Then gravity was towards the deck again, weight pressing Jones down into his chair as he seemed to weigh more than twice as much as normal.
“Forward guns tracking,” snapped the tactical officer.
“Fire.”
The two heavy cannon in Markesan’s nose shook the bridge as they hurled explosive shells across the hundreds of kilometres between the warship and her target. There was a drawn out pause as the small icon representing the shells traced a line towards the pirate.
When they connected there were sighs from several officers.
“It may take more than that,” Jones reminded them. “Reload and hit them again.”
A second salvo rushed out this time only one shell connected, but it was apparently a sufficiently solid ship for the corvette’s electronic output cut sharply and the LIDAR ceased to display volleys of missiles flung at the dropships.
“Major heat flare,” the sensor chief reported. “Best estimation is that we hit their hydrogen tanks.”
Jones restrained a flinch. While properly stored hydrogen was safe enough, have it leaking into the halo of oxygen as air escaped from holes in a ship’s pressurized decks and the results could very damaging indeed. “Very good. Helm, bring us around to engage with broadside weapons. We only have a limited store of shells for the main guns.”
“Should we demand a surrender, sir?”
“No, Major,” he told his exec, listening in on the conversation from the Combat Information Centre. “Our orders are: ‘no quarter’.”
Turning his chair he looked at the communications officer. “Is Colonel Perez still hailing us?”
“Yes sir.”
Jones glanced at the tactical display. The second corvette was wallowing under fire and the first had apparently decided to make for Tortuga Prime rather than resume the engagement. The Markesan’s fighters had broken off to re-join their mothership… yes, everything was in hand. “I’ll speak to him then.”
The Mechwarrior’s face popped into view on the secondary screen in front of Jones’, pale with fear, anger or a mix – the naval officer was genuinely unsure. The command deck of the Chieftain was visible behind him. “Your murderous coward,” Perez spat. “You just killed half my men.”
If he wasn’t wearing a pressure suit, including helmet, Jones would have reached up and tugged on his moustache. “I’m reasonably sure none of our fire has struck you, Colonel. Perhaps you could expand on your meaning.”
“When you cut and ran, that ship came after us and its missiles breached the ‘Mech bays.” Perez’ lips curled in contempt. “Clever use of a decoy, but the Judge Advocate will have something to say about using a full battalion as one.”
“How extremely unfortunate.”
“Hand over command to your executive officer and restrict yourself to your cabin. I’ll have the embarked battalion secure you until can be brought before a general court martial.”
Jones raised an eyebrow and then opened a second channel. “Major Picard, I stand relieved of duty by the mission commander. You have the conn.”
“Understood sir. I have the conn.”
“Is there anything else, Colonel?”
Perez seemed on the brink of saying more but refrained, instead cutting the channel.
“Sir, how much trouble are you in?”
Jones shrugged. There was no point heading for his quarters until the Markesan stopped manoeuvring. “I’m on record as protesting the assignment of a transport to a jump point assault and as further objecting to bringing ground troops with us when I was overruled. And while Perez may be mission commander, he doesn’t have tactical authority in a space combat situation. Finally, while a general court martial would be open to public review and he might manage to convict me by media, this is a classified operation so it’ll be a summary court martial, records sealed for the next fifty years except for the verdict. I’d say, given the usual predominance of army officers in the Judge Advocate’s office, I’ve a forty percent chance of acquittal.”
He smiled tightly. “Anyway, you’re in command of a warship in action, Major. That’ll look good on your record when it’s time for promotions.”
Brookes stared at the screen and then saluted before cutting it off.
Sitting back, Kenneth Jones watched his ship finish of the pirate, the crew working together like a well-tuned musical instrument. Somewhere in the back of his mind he started mentally composing a letter to his wife to inform her of what he could without breaking censorship regulations.
-
Imperial City, Luthien
Pesht District, Draconis Combine
8 October 2763
“The Federated Suns military exercises have concluded with a victory for the aggressor.”
Minoru’s father gave no immediate reaction to the report. Seated on teak stool carved with dragons, he was watching the first snow settle upon the gardens of his favourite palace.
He lacks none of his insight, the Heir-Designate thought sadly, but it takes him longer now to reach decisions. These last few years… my children still safe from the demands of adulthood, my hands and voice acting as his will in the affairs of state, guided by his wisdom. Was their beauty the reason they must be so brief.
“Lord Davion is our most advantageous ally,” the Coordinator said at last. “He will be your most dangerous foe.”
So. “His armies remain weak and unfocused.” Minoru allowed a sliver of amusement to enter his tone. “His vaunted First Avalon Hussars were lost on the far reaches of the Suns for almost a month, nearly a full battalion slain by chance. Even then, the naval officer responsible was judged blameless. The prince himself is a threat, but without discipline…”
“A sword will cut clay, yet shape the clay around crude iron, place it in the fire… and it will yield the finest steel.”
“Or without steel, a pot. Or a plate.”
Takiro Kurita smiled slightly. “A samurai can use both of these things. Swords defend civilisation but they do not define it.”
“Of course, father.” Setting aside the report, he moved to the next. “Also within the Suns, the Boeing Interstellar Orbital Megaplex has accelerated its pace of construction despite the First Lord’s decision not to subsidize operations. We believe SLDF discretionary funds have been allocated for this.”
“Mmm. Davion’s openness is a weakness but by sitting athwart the best routes between Terra and the battlefields of the Periphery, he has made a weapon of it.” The old man sighed. “There is something you have not mentioned yet of this matter.”
Minoru bowed his head. “As always, you read me like an open book. One of the orbital docks that was to be used in construction has been diverted away from Galax and the ISF has yet to determine the destination.”
“Unusual. This speaks of especial precautions by the Suns.” Takiro folded his hands together. “Call my grandson to me, Minoru.”
With a bow, Minoru backed out of proximity and retrieved a small radio from his sleeve. With Jinjiro now enrolled in Sun Zhang Academy on New Samarkand, this could only mean his younger son, Zabu.
Summoned from his studies, the child nonetheless arrived with decorum. Bowing first to the Coordinator and then to his father, he knelt politely before them and let silence fall. Minoru studied him and thought again what might come had he not legitimised Jinjiro. Zabu, after all, was the son of his wife and the older boy only of a concubine. And yet… there was an edge to his first born. Zabu would be a fine lord, wise in the mould of his grandfather – but Jinjiro had the seeds of greatness. To stamp the Dragon across the stars as their ancestor Shiro had, or to purge it of weakness like Martin McAllister.
Truly it is a blessing that they are devoted to each other. Is there nothing that my sons could do together?
“Zabu, do you tend your lessons well?”
“Hai, grandfather.”
“Good.” Takiro raised his hand and beckoned for the boy to come closer. “Now I have another lesson for you.”
Seated at the old man’s feet, Zabu nodded and looked up with bright eyes. “I am ready, grandfather.”
“The Davion lord is of value to us now, but one day our swords will clash against his. This you have been taught. But now I would have you unravel one of his plots, as you will one day need to without us to guide you. Do you understand?”
Even at a mere six years old, the child took the meaning of the words. He prostrated himself. “I thank you for this lesson.”
Takiro’s lips parted in a smile. “Up, up. Your father will provide you the first thread of information.”
Dropping to his knees next to the Coordinator, Minoru nodded to his son. “The Davion have inveigled with the Star League to build a vast new shipyard near the centre of his realm. It is a matter of great prestige for him, as well as a tool that will profit him greatly. The First Lord is wary, as well he should be but Davion has gone to great lengths, perhaps even great risk, to have the yards built sooner – years sooner – than was originally planned for.”
“And yet, despite the high priority that has been placed upon this, one of the orbital docks that was to be used in the construction has been hidden from sight. Sent, we do not yet know where, nor for what purpose. These questions we must seek answers for, yet where should we have our servants begin their search?”
Zabu screwed his eyes closed intent on thought. It was a familiar expression and the two older men exchanged fond looks as the boy turned the question over in his mind. “Father, may I call upon your greater knowledge?”
“You may,” Takiro allowed.
“May these docks serve other purposes besides the construction of shipyards?”
“They may build all manner of facilities in space. Some may even build ships, though this one does not seem to be suited to the purpose.”
The boy nodded confidently. “You have described Lord Davion as valuable so I believe he is not foolish. He would have chosen a dock for the purpose. Clearly he must intend that something be built in space, which is vast. Do we often lose track of his shipments?”
Minoru gave him a proud look. “We do not. These matters are typically transparent to our eyes and ears.”
“Then what means has he used to cloud his tracks, father?”
“Much of Davion’s shipping was engaged in transporting elements of his armies to stage a great campaign for the purpose of training his armies. These same vessels now ferry the regiments back to his borders and there is great disorder within the freight lanes of the Suns.”
Zabu bowed his head again. “Grandfather, I believe that just as Lord Davion used the transport of his regiments to hide the movement of this orbital dock, he has used the creation of the new shipyard to mask the creation of a second, hidden yard. It will likely be found among the worlds where this training campaign took place for this is where the movement of ships outside of normal schedules would arouse little suspicion.”
“Perhaps so, but why would the Davion desire to hide a shipyard so deep within his realm, hundreds of light years away from ourselves or from House Liao of Capella?”
The boy hesitated. “I regret I know too little of such subjects,” he confessed, shamefacedly.
“Hmm. Well, you are very young.” Takiro waved his hands. “Still, you have deduced well. Go to the kitchens and tell the cooks that I have directed you should receive a treat.”
“Layers within layers,” Minoru murmured. “The location is far from us and from Liao, but it is closer to the Taurians.”
“Davion does not send his forces against the periphery, but Kerensky does. Perhaps we are dealing with his stratagem here,” Takiro mused. “If Davion is but the glove he wears for this then they have become closer than we suspected.”
“Marik, Steiner and Cameron are all suspicions of Kerensky – what did the young Marik call him? A jumped up Russian peasant.” Minoru shook his head. “He is a warrior – one of the Star League’s gunslingers who are trained to duel against our own samurai. And he was regent for Cameron. If, faced by the suspicion of the lords and supported by the adoration of his soldiers he sought to take a throne for himself…”
Takiro closed his eyes. “Cameron has flatterers on his side, and little more. Many of the people of the other states would urge their leaders to support Kerensky. Davion would likely do so. Liao… perhaps. The periphery are like whipped dogs, he could offer them tokens and they would fall over themselves to worship him… And yet I do not think he is driven to that form of power. No, Kerensky is that rarest of men – he lacks all ambition for further advancement.”
“So he is no threat.”
“Oh, my son, such men are the most perilous of all.”
Sidebar: History of the Draconis Combine
"House Kurita’s leaders are of two breeds: wise old snakes who live long, poisonous lives and those whose overweening pride makes them the prey of the first breed."
Founded through a mix of diplomacy, military force and reckless duplicity by two brothers, Shiro and Urizen Kurita, the Draconis Combine superseded the slightly earlier Alliance of Galedon, which had been their tool to break the power of the Ozawa Mercantile Association. In 2311 Shiro called a council of his so-called allies, many of them outraged by his scheming. When a vote was called upon his leadership, the majority of the leaders of worlds in the spinward-coreward regions rejected Shiro Kurita. Those wiser were spared when Urizen’s soldiers executed the dissenting majority, setting the tone for House Kurita’s totalitarian rule.
More than a century later, House Kurita’s fortunes seemed to have fallen irreversibly, for both Shiro’s successors on New Samarkand and his brother’s heirs in the long attempts to subdue the neighbouring Principality of Rasalhague had been overthrown by bastard kinsmen. Nihongi von Rohrs, born to a Kurita princess by way of a stablehand, slaughtered his cousins and established a paranoid new dynasty that rarely left their guarded palace, even as they schemed eternally against each other. Meanwhile Urizen’s grand-daughter, having fallen into the hands of the Rasalhague resistance, bore Daniel Sorenson. Growing up in his uncle’s court on occupied Rasalhague, the young Daniel repaid every slight inflicted on him when he seized power during the uneasy months after Nihongi’s coup and re-established an independent Rasalhague.
As the twenty-sixth century dawned, a third branch of the apparently ousted Kurita Clan rose to power. Descended from Shiro’s second son, Martin McAllister served as one of the Von Rohr’s diplomats to their rivals on Rasalhague. Falling madly in love with Prince Sorenson’s daughter, the two united the two lineages of House Kurita in their daughter Siriwan. Their efforts to conceal this succeeded and, due to his carefully plotted successes ‘against’ Rasalhague, McAllister rose in his overlords’ regard and trust, receiving command of their Household Guards. In 2510, McAllister took the obvious next step and eliminated the Von Rohrs, finally uniting Rasalhague with the Draconis Combine through his daughter’s inheritance.
Siriwan McAllister-Kurita laid the foundations for the modern Combine, wedding an undistinguished descendant of the last Kurita Coordinator in order to reclaim the symbolic family name. Siriwan, her son Hehiro, great-grandson Urizen and great-great-grandson Takiro for two hundred and eleven years out of the next two hundred and fifty-two, long-stable reigns that allowed them to mould the Draconis Combine into a strong but isolationist realm even after joining the Star League.
-
Younglings parse the hidden truth, when only mysteries are provided. Good training for the kid too.
-
Avalon City, New Avalon
Crucis March, Federated Suns
19 December 2763
“I don’t fault you for the decision, sire.” Thomas Green-Davion shook his head as he and John watched the sun setting over the mountains from one of the castle balconies. “Colonel Perez was clearly in the wrong, but the Avalon Hussars are rallying around him and they’re the backbone of our Battlemech corps.”
“I agree. Moving Jones to a staff position should hopefully keep him out of line of sight until tempers cool.” John sighed. “Losing a battalion of the First was a blow, I admit. And the damned thing is, other than pissing off the Navy, Perez did a good job on Tortuga. He’s an excellent ground commander and I could use him in a brigade slot, but right now he’s unpromotable.”
“I take it we couldn’t put him in a diplomatic post, let him pick up some polish?”
“He didn’t exactly show a sign of being diplomatic to begin with.” John picked an apple out of the dish between them and took a bite. “Besides, he knows more about Tortuga than I like – I’d rather he wasn’t outside the Suns.”
“Good point.” Green-Davion tapped his fingers on the side of his chair. “With Heather taking over MacDonald’s op-area, perhaps he could be shuffled into her staff. It’d keep him out of view for a little while and I could ask her to take him in hand.”
The prince nodded in approval. “Thank you, Thomas. That’s one problem out of the way. And speaking of Green-Davions taking people in hand…”
The older man gave him a quizzical look. “Who do you want me to keep an eye on?”
“As you said earlier, the Avalon Hussars are the backbone of our Mechwarriors. We need to get them on-board with the new combined arms tactics if they’re to get widespread acceptance, not to mention cooling off this budding feud with the navy.”
“I don’t disagree but they’re scattered across the Suns and under the command of every Combat Region Marshal we have. Reaching them all at once with anything but official memorandums isn’t all that straightforward.”
“I’m thinking a two-pronged approach. Firstly, I’m going to blanket attach a battalion of artillery to each regiment of the Hussars. The added firepower should be popular and it moves them half-way towards the new demi-brigade model the Crucis Dragoons and Ceti Hussars have developed. Johnston Industries are confident they can adapt their gun carrier chassis into a self-propelled gun for the artillery, so breaking loose light artillery battalions for that shouldn’t affect our general deployments too much.”
“Ah, the Carronade proposal. I heard about it from the Count. I understood he was looking at the SLDF as a market though?”
“They’re being very non-committal and Elias knows a confirmed contract from us is better for him than a maybe from Kerensky’s staff.”
“Hmm. Having first call on artillery should appeal to the Hussars, I agree. But where do I come into this?”
“That’s the other thing. It’s been largely honorific, but there’s the tradition of having Colonels-in-Chief for the major troop formations. Alexander Davion stripped away most of the practical power from the position when he reunited the Principalities, but he didn’t abolish them outright.”
Green-Davion nodded. “I recall Rita Hasek carrying out some visits to the Fusiliers as their Colonel-in-Chief while I was her regent on New Syrtis. I’m not sure if Vasily does the same for the Chevaliers.”
John chuckled. “He’s actually Colonel-in-Chief for the Tancredi Loyalists, not the Robinson Chevaliers. Not quite so demanding a position given there are only four regiments.”
“I take it you want to appoint me as the Colonel-in-Chief for the Avalon Hussars then?”
“Yes, it’s been in abeyance since my cousin Joseph died – Uncle Richard never appointed a replacement.”
“That should say everything about how influential it is.”
“It’s one of those things that’s what you make of it. It gives you unquestioned access to all their social events, for example, so whenever you’re on world with one of their regiments you can touch base with them and see how the mood is without it ruffling any feathers.”
“And how often is that going to happen?” Thomas gave him a sceptical look. “I had the impression I’d be spending more time on New Avalon now that the Galahad exercises were over.”
“Think of a working vacation, Baron Green-Davion.” John took one last bite of the apple and dropped the core in a waste bin. “The High Council approved of it and you have a nice little estate on Damerang, conveniently garrisoned by a regiment of the Hussars within three others within a one jump radius. It would be terribly insensitive of you not to visit them, since you’re their new Colonel-in-Chief.”
He received a suspicious look. “How many excuses do you have to send me running around the Federated Suns?”
“I’ve got two more lined up to send you to the Capellan March next year,” John told him. “Starting with an inspection of the Demeter salient now they’ve had a time to settle down from the fighting and then Rita has some sort of honour she wants to hang on you, which means visiting New Syrtis.”
“It had better be a very nice estate,” Thomas told him. “Alright, you’ve a willing horse, sire. What’s one more mile?”
.o0O0o.
Avalon City, New Avalon
Crucis March, Federated Suns
22 December 2763
“I’ve found a place for Commodore Jones,” John told Hanse as he watched another Italian opera. Talking to his descendant was cutting into his personal time more than he liked but there wasn’t much alternative if he didn’t want some suspicions raised about his sanity.
Edwina wasn’t at all fond of the operas, which was a mark of her good taste in John’s view. It meant she left him to watch them alone, more or less once a week. He’d rather have spent the time with her, but at least she didn’t think he was sneaking off to see another woman, which some of the other cover ideas would have allowed for.
“Good, you want the man safe. He turns into our best admiral twenty years from now,” Hanse replied absently as he watched the screen.
“Well he won’t come to harm on the Navy’s procurement board. In a year or so I should be able to bump him up to Commodore and give him one of the heavier ships. From the way he handled the fighting over Tortuga, he’s more than ready for the responsibility.”
“What’s he going to be handling? The new transport dropships or the capital ship board?”
“The latter. I’m not an idiot, Hanse. We don’t have many warship commanders who’ve engaged hostile warships – for a given value of warships, at least. Besides, if he was looking at the new battalion-transports then he’d have to work with the Army on the design requirements – too much chance he’d run into someone who bought into Perez’ version of events.”
“At least you’re not starting with almost two hundred years of not even having warships. The RX-78 was enough headaches.”
John nodded and flipped through the documents he’d brought with him. “Even if we wind up pushing a new arms limit through the Council, taking the chance to replace and refit some of our older hulls should be worth it. The ex-Hegemony ships are taking up more of the maintenance budget than I’d realised. Mothballing them would save us millions.”
“The time may come when you need expendable ships,” Hanse warned. “And you’d be surprised what can be put back into service. The Lyrans considered their last Tharkad as a wreck too broken to be worth fixing by 2821, but they managed to drag it back into action for the fighting around Hesperus thirty years later.”
“Yes, you’ve made a point of how much hardware survived the centuries with only patchwork repairs. With how durable ‘Mechs and ships are, I’m surprised things fell apart as far as you described.”
“The factories weren’t as durable,” Hanse told him. “And someone kept assassinating the people with the skills to repair them.”
“Now, you see, this is why I don’t want to start assassinating people. You never know where when we might need them – you said yourself that this Blake character was vital in rebuilding the HPG networks after the coup. If we can’t manage to avoid that then he’s going to be needed. Killing him would be disruptive.”
“And I yield the point, but his successor didn’t do anything like that.”
“I’m not having someone arrange a traffic accident for a ten year old, Hanse.”
“He’d be eleven now. Alright, not the point, I know. But ComStar’s scheming killed tens of thousands directly and probably millions indirectly. I spent years rooting their spies out. Trust me, you don’t want to get them entrenched again.”
“It won’t be a factor unless the League fails,” John said heavily. “If it comes to that, I promise I’ll take steps to make sure they can’t do what you describe.”
“I’ll hold you to that.”
John relaxed. There were some points that he wished Hanse would stop pressing him on, but just as the other man couldn’t make him do anything, there was nothing John could do to shut him up. “There’s been at least a little progress – Richard hasn’t stopped the Star League Council from meeting the way you described, and Francesca tells me we’re compiling a good case to show that the Periphery are receiving shipments of military hardware from sources deep inside the Hegemony. Nothing’s pointing at Amaris yet but at least we can show that as many are going to the Rim Worlds Republic as they are to the other territorial states.”
“That could useful,” the redhead agreed. “It might be enough to persuade Richard that the SLDF should send troops back to the Republic. Even if Amaris claims to be a loyal, the Reunification War is evidence that the Rim can be a nest of anti-League sentiment whatever House Amaris has to say.”
“I’m not sure the Commanding General would thank us for adding another battle-front to his operations, but better to be aware of the threat. If MIIO can add it all together than I’ll see if I can make the case then.”
Hanse rubbed his hands across his face. “You’re right that things are changing. Barbara Liao never appointed Marshals in my history, so maybe things might not go the way they did in my history. I’m not confident that we can avert the fall of the Star League, but at least there might be a chance.”
.o0O0o.
Avalon City, New Avalon
Crucis March, Federated Suns
5 January 2764
“Where did this information come from?” Green-Davion asked, looking at the data on the command centre’s main display. It was the last meeting before the Chief of Operations departed for the extended vacation on his new estate in the Draconis March and while this wasn’t exactly a crisis, it was probably another headache he didn’t need.
“The Ministry of Intelligence put it together based on information from several sources,” Pond explained. “Without going into detail about where some of our people have managed to penetrate DCMS security I can’t say more, but I’m confident that the data is genuine.”
“It’s good to know that we’re not the only ones finding it hard to fill officer command slots,” said Eis Moscoe. “This seems a little radical though.”
John snuck a look at Hanse who shook his head. “They didn’t do this in my history.”
“It could also be a response to our decision to improve the coordination of our forces above the regimental level,” he pointed out.
“Or just taking their obsession with the number five to new heights.” Moscoe rubbed his chin. “This will play hell with their transport arrangements.”
Whatever the reason behind it, the DCMS had decided to reorganise their forces across the board. Where they’d previously operated more or less along the same general pattern as the SLDF, with lances, companies and battalions the ‘new model’ that Minoru Kurita had apparently approved on behalf of his father cut the number of command slots, and thus the number of officers needed for a regiment.
Previously a regiment would require three battalion commanders, nine company commanders and eighteen additional lance commanders. In the future, the regiments would be divided into five companies of twenty-five ‘Mechs, vehicles or infantry platoons. That cut the demand for officers by sixteen percent, particularly in the field-grade ranks. Academies could increase the number of lance commanders comparatively rapidly, even if AFFS policy was to give graduates at least a few months experience in the field before actually promoting them to officers. Company and battalion commanders were harder to come by though.
“It’s going to cut into the rate of advancement for their junior officers though,” observed Manabe. “In the long run that could cause some dissatisfaction.”
“House Kurita have never been afraid to pit their officers against each other.” Pond folded his arms. “Rather than blaming their leaders for removing the middling command slots, the junior officers will turn on each other to compete for promotion. And they’ll be highly motivated to make names for themselves in order to receive promotions.”
Green-Davion swiped through the data. “I’m more concerned about the fact they’re forming permanent Divisions. The changes we’ve been making to improve our coordination was to prepare us to face conflicts with the other house armies. Particularly the DCMS. We have to face the facts that they’re working to retain the edge they had over us thirty years ago.”
“It’ll still be a lot smaller than an SLDF division or our equivalents. Really it’s more of a reinforced brigade.”
John leant on the desk table. “It’ll depend to some extent on how the commanders handle them. If they’re planning to make heavier use of their infantry, with three of the five regiments in a division as foot soldiers that won’t necessarily make a huge difference if they’re focusing on manoeuvre warfare the way most conflicts were handled after the Ares Conventions were imposed. But if they’re instead looking at controlling territory, the way the SLDF has to operate in the Periphery then a heavy infantry presence could be very useful for them.”
The high command exchanged looked at each other.
“You think they could be gearing up for a long term offensive?” enquired Green-Davion.
The prince tilted his hand back and forth. “It’s one possibility. We’ll have to see how they develop the units in practise. They might simply feel that it takes a brigade of infantry to equal the effectiveness of the ‘Mech regiment and the tank regiment.”
“Another factor is that the Combine hasn’t previously brought their armoured units together operationally. It’s more common for them to use tanks as battalions rather than complete regiments. The new organisation won’t really allow for that, so the DCMS armoured forces will have to develop new approaches.” Eis ran his fingers back though his hair. “It’s a very large step for them to take and it’s going to draw a lot of attention.”
“It’s certainly going to be interesting to see if this means that the Lyrans and Free World will also be looking at reviewing their own command arrangements above regimental level,” Pond agreed. “We haven’t see that so far and the Capellans are being very cautious about exploring the idea but this raises the game considerably.”
“Should we move faster with integrating our forces into divisions?” asked John. “Opinions?”
There was an uneasy silence. “As much as I think it’s the right direction, we’re doing well already by building up from the bottom,” Green-Davion said at last. “Bringing troops together is only the first step and we need to train up the commanders and staffs to handle brigades and divisions. By the time the Combine has worked out the basic issues for this reorganisation – a year or two from now – we’ll have a solid core of combined arms brigades and demi-brigades that we can begin forming divisions from with much less friction.”
John nodded. “Does anyone disagree?”
“With all respect, sire, the Field Marshal is right that we’re already moving ahead fairly fast. Slow and steady wins the race.”
“I’m not going to bite your head off, Eis. Actually, I agree. As important as our reforms are, having the DCMS push the pace would be a mistake. Pass on a request to the Ministry of Intelligence to watch for any further information on this and any similar actions by other member-states, so we can learn from any problems that they encounter. But there’s no need to change our plans at this time.”
.o0O0o.
Avalon City, New Avalon
Crucis March, Federated Suns
25 April 2764
Holographic warships hung in the air in front of John’s desk. “This looks like something of a budget challenge,” he said thoughtfully. “You’ve got a very well developed plan for the cruisers, scaling up from the Congress-class frigates, but these Protector-class battleships would be larger than anything our yards have built before.”
“We probably would need to rely on the new yard at Galax for this, given their experience building larger ships for the SLDF.” Admiral Richardson looked apologetic. “Smaller hulls were considered, but given the Soyal and Du Shi Wang classes in service in the CCN, we simply couldn’t meet the goals for a battleship that can contend within the battlecruiser weight ranges.”
“I take it the drafts for battlecruisers are in the alternative proposals?”
Rike Moore, the Rear Admiral from the Navy’s Design Bureau nodded. “The preliminary studies are in the appendices, sire, however…”
“However?
“However,” Richardson picked up with barely a pause, “The plan we’ve presented is the consensus of the full board. Eight new cruisers and four battleships are what we need to keep the Navy competitive through until the end of the century.”
“I see.” The prince rested his fingers on the very edge of his desk. After a brief moment of thought, he shook his head. “I realise that I don’t have first-hand naval experience, but I asked the board to outline options for moving forwards. If this proposal – as detailed as it may be, as solidly as you all seem to favour it – is the only one presented then the board hasn’t completed the work asked of it.”
He closed down the display. “What other plans were rejected in favour of this one?”
Vice Admiral Yusuke Goto stepped forwards. “If I may?” Although he’d not served aboard a ship in years, the grey-haired officer’s last command had been a dropship on the frontlines of the War of Davion Succession. Thirty-one years at naval headquarters had honed his skill in the tactics and strategy of the halls of power rather than the blackness of space, but at least he’d seen action – something that many of his compatriots had not.
“Go ahead.”
“Besides the proposal we have here, there was a consideration of upgrading the Congress-class ships and expanding them to provide a backbone of frigates to support our Robinson-class transports. However, we don’t have the number of slips available to build them in the numbers to deal with heavy Capellan ships or to match the existing numbers of destroyers and light carriers fielded by the Combine. Once we began looking at improving the Congress-class, scaling it up to a cruiser was initially explored as the single design – for the same costs as the current proposal we calculate that fifteen cruisers could be built. However, this still wouldn’t be enough for the Capellans. Finally we reviewed building a large number of corvettes on the hull of the Robinson, using civilian yards for the basic hulls so that military yards could save time only installing the armour and weapons. Commodore Jones made the excellent point that his ship took serious damage against converted merchantmen in recent operations, though, which suggests such a force would be of questionable value.”
“There was…” Moore hesitated. “I don’t wish to expose the Commodore to criticism.”
“Well now that you’ve started, Admiral?”
Richardson cleared his throat. “I believe that Rike is hesitant in light of the army’s suggestions that Commodore Jones is lacking in moral fibre. His recommendation was that we focus on delivering dropships and aerospace fighters to the battlespace. His view as that we should build destroyers for those warship clashes that can’t be avoided and otherwise use carriers to avoid direct action.”
“That… could work.” Hanse moved up and perched on the desk, arms folded and eyes narrowed in thought. “Given the use of nuclear warheads for fighters… how many fighters could be carried aboard a warship?”
“Interesting.” John rose. “I will defer judgement until the high command can review your position, Admirals. You’ve two weeks to put together presentations for all of those options, including Commodore Jones’. Since the options will be issued under the names of the entire board there’s no need to worry about any blame falling upon him specifically.”
“Two weeks isn’t a great deal of time.”
“Admiral this has been under discussion for three months. I appreciate your preference in this matter and the prospect of being able to match the Capellan battleships is very appealing but this is my decision, not yours. Since I have to justify it to the High Council, I want to be able to show them alternatives and why they’ve been rejected.”
Goto saluted. “I understand, sire. We’ll have the information for you.” The old veteran knew when it was best to retreat and regroup.
“What’s the bet that they canvas the High Council for support before the next meeting?” Hanse chuckled, “Appealing to their patronage and ‘we have insufficient manhood’ without big ships as substitutes for shiny sports cars.”
John didn’t think that that even deserved a response. Whatever he chose, he’d need to make sure his allies within the Council were primed. The decision made was going to cost billions of dollars either way, which made the attempt to railroad him all the more irritating.
Moore and Richardson followed Goto’s example. As they left, Moore paused. “I’m sorry we misunderstood your instructions, sire. I just wanted to say… I appreciate what you’re doing, fighting to get us the budget to turn the navy into a real fighting force and standing up for Jones against Perez.”
“I’m glad to hear that, Rike. But give some thought to why I’m doing that. It’s not for the navy, it’s for what the Navy can do for the Federated Suns.”
The admiral paused and then nodded. “I’ll do that.”
John stretched as the door closed. “What happened at Tortuga showed we need to do some things differently. We didn’t expect to be facing warships, but even converted merchantmen armed with conventional weapons hurt the Markesan badly.”
“It’s not an area I can give a lot of advice on, other than historical records and naval history wasn’t a huge priority when I was in the academy. The Clans used their warships mostly as mobile supply bases and command centres, but they didn’t have any real opposition. The closest we came was one suicidal ramming by a fighter – which didn’t even mission-kill the ship.”
Hanse jumped off the desk. “The SLDF does about the same, right now, but they’re not fighting a comparable fleet. No one’s attempted unrestricted fleet actions since before the Ares Conventions were drafted early in the Age of War and the technology back then simply wasn’t comparable.”
“So we’re going to have to write our own book,” John decided. “At least we have some idea that we could have to fight, that’s more than the other fleets do.”
“Which way are you leaning?”
“The first plan is the best prepared,” the prince told him. “And since the navy likes it, I could take advantage of their appealing to the High Council and get it approved more easily than the alternatives.” He hesitated and then added: “But from what you said about the attrition warships suffered in the Succession Wars, something that relies more on fighter wings for damage might survive longer if it comes to war.”
-
Avalon City, New Avalon
Crucis March, Federated Suns
11 May 2764
“I appreciate your position, Admiral Richardson, but while the majority of the naval board may favour building battleships, you’re the only member of the High Command who feels that way.”
“Respectfully, sire, I’m also the only naval officer on the High Command.”
“That’s true, but you’ve also failed to persuade the finance committee. You provided a very detailed proposal for paying for the twelve warships in your plan, but Commodore Jones managed to compete with a proposal to not only build six fleet carriers and six new destroyers in the next ten years, but also to refit twenty-six of our existing warships to the same standard… and still came in at only ninety percent of the cost.”
“Your highness, do I have permission to speak freely.”
John looked at him and then nodded. “I don’t record private meetings, Admiral. Whatever you say is off the record and between the two of us.”
“Sir, the Jones plan will leave the navy with a capital force whose only solution to a battle will be to run away and hope that their aerospace wings can save the day. The Soyal-class can smash a New Syrtis-class carrier with two square hits of its spinal gun. Maybe three, allowing for the improved protection Jones has called for.”
“And how many shots could your battleship have taken? Five, six?” John leant back in his chair. “What decided me, Admiral – and the argument that I’ll take to the High Council – is that while we’d need to replace a defeated ship in either case, a victorious battleship would need dockyard work because it would still have taken damage. A carrier that’s avoided taking direct fire would simply need a replacement aerospace wing and it could be back in action without time for repairs, or even to return to a shipyard.”
“If it wins, sire. If it wins.” Richardson gathered himself. “I recommend against this in the strongest possible terms. If you go with Jones’ plan… I don’t feel I can be responsible for naval operations in that case.”
“That’s a very strong statement to make, Admiral. You would be difficult to replace.”
“I know sir, but if we’re to be a fighting navy then I firmly believe this isn’t the path we should be taking.”
“I see.” The prince rose and walked to the window. “I appreciate your forthrightness. I’m not a naval officer myself but I have looked at the history of our service. You’ll recall that of the two classes of capital ship the FSN has fielded in the past, the Defender-class of battlecruiser wasn’t particularly successful while the New Syrtis-class have performed superbly.”
Richardson set his jaw. “The New Syrtis fills its role, sir. As an escort for transports. I thought you wanted a fighting navy.”
“Alright. If that’s your final word, Admiral then I’ve no choice to accept it.”
The admiral paused. “Sire?”
“I’ll advise Field Marshal Green-Davion to expect your resignation when he returns from New Syrtis. I hope you’ll remain until then so we can find a replacement.”
In the window’s reflection, John could see Richardson’s face pale.
“You’ve given many years of service, Admiral. If, as you say, you don’t feel that you can continue to operate in naval operations while we follow this course of action, then all I can do is to offer my sincere thanks for everything you’ve done to bring us this far.”
“I…”
“I don’t think there’s anything more to say.” Not to say, at least but John let his face show for a moment his anger at the Admiral’s attempt to bully him into changing his decision. “Goodbye, Admiral Richardson.”
He walked the man to the door and closed it firmly behind his guest. “Dammit, Hanse. Did you ever have to deal with someone trying that sort of trick on you?”
“Once or twice when I was younger. You did a pretty good job of shutting him down. Once word gets around, they’ll be more cautious.”
“It’s a new experience for me. The closest was Eric Bond, when I set up the Ministry of Intelligence, but he genuinely thought he was in the wrong and being punished.”
“There’s always pushback when major changes are being made.” Hanse reached into the fruit bowl and scowled as he failed to pick one up.
“Do you even get hungry?”
“That’s not the point. He might not have been so reckless if he knew that the delegates from Delavan and Layover had agreed to support the Jones plan rather than voting for the battleships, but it’s better to move him out now and set an example.”
“Well that was simple logic. Building warships is a great profit per unit, but aerospace fighters are a more sustainable source of income. It’s fortunate that we optioned licenses from Wangker Aerospsace back during the Reunification War even if we never utilised them at the time. I doubt Barbara Liao would have agreed to them now.”
“She’ll likely challenge the arrangement now,” warned Hanse. “If she takes it to the courts, Richard Cameron could take her side.”
“You’re the one who said we needed those fighter designs. With Dynamico, Sacrado and Salvatore all adding aerospace manufacture to their dropship lines we’ll be in a much stronger position.”
The redheaded man looked at John and then smiled. “You have something in mind, don’t you?”
“We might not be able to pin the arms purchases to Amaris but Reznick has been able to identify some of his cut-outs. Each of the three firms has approached one of those agents as possibly customers for the fighters. If Amaris wants to use those factories’ output for his plan, he’ll keep Richard from interfering.”
Hanse’s laughter filled the room.
Sidebar: The Age of War
"Let he who desires peace, prepare for war."
Although military conflicts on some levels had been ongoing since the Outer Reaches Rebellion of 2236, the First Andurien War of 2398-2404 is generally held to be the start of a new era of interstellar conflicts. Eight of the ten states that would later make up the Star League had come into being by the mid-twenty-fourth century, with the six great Houses of the Inner Sphere gobbling up smaller rivals until their borders were now pressed against each other.
Smaller states continued to exist along the periphery but their conquest was no longer the focus of attention. Starting from 2398 all six Great Houses shifted to a new mode of strategic thinking. It was no longer possible to consider conquering their rivals outright – all six were of sufficient size and power that this was logistically untenable given the economics of the time. Since each state bordered at least three rivals, it was unfeasible to divert enough resources to one front to attain ultimate victory without exposing yourself on two more.
Instead wars were fought cautiously and for limited goals felt to be attainable. Only through a succession of such campaigns could great progress be made, but the breaks between campaigns to consolidate would inevitably allow the defender to regroup. Exacerbating this were the Ares Conventions, which succeeded brilliantly in preserving the infrastructure of still fledgling economies and populations but legitimised war as a method of addressing conflicts of interest. Borders fluctuated rapidly but even internal turmoil such as the Dark Years of the Commonwealth (2467-2504) and Davion Civil War (2525-2540) didn’t inflict long-term harm upon the states, any more than military advances such as the BattleMech provided long-term domination.
The Age of War was therefore an age of deadlock, a ‘golden age of chivalry’ that Ian Cameron decried as pointless and futile bloodshed as he worked to establish the Star League as a viable alternative. He was right that warfare had accomplished very little during the previous century and a half – all three Andurien Wars had ended with more or less identical disposition of the worlds in question, and the only realms to vanish from the maps during this era were the result of diplomacy, with Rasalhague formally throwing its support behind the revived Kurita dynasty in 2510 and the United Hindu Collective allying with the triumphant Alexander Davion in 2540.
While the border worlds were shaken and dissidents from these regions were directly responsible for the creation of the last two major states within the Periphery (the Magistracy of Canopus founded by a renegade Andurien Mechwarrior and the Outworlds Alliance by a retired Federated Suns admiral respectively), the core worlds of each major state had settled into recognisable and cohesive national identities.
As the Star League was formed, economies struggled to adapt and discharged soldiers looked for places to turn. It was as much a nostalgia for the old certainties of conflict as Periphery recalcitrance that led to Cameron’s new Age of Peace sparking war on a scale never before seen in human history.
-
Avalon City, New Avalon
Crucis March, Federated Suns
19 July 2764
“Sir. The Minister of Intelligence is on line three for you,” Owen reported.
John closed down the report on education levels along the outer edge of the Suns – for all the concerns about wars, civil or otherwise, there was still the mundane business of government to deal with – and turned to the video phone. “Francesca,” he greeted her as the screen lit up. “Has something gone wrong?”
“I couldn’t say, but you did ask to be kept up to date about any developments affecting President Amaris.”
John straightened. “I did indeed. What have you learned?”
“It seems that he’s intending to depart Terra for Apollo,” the Minister of Intelligence reported. “And not for a brief visit – all indications are that this will be his first extended absence from the capital in more than ten years. His departure is expected before the end of the week.”
John took a deep breath. This sounded unfortunately similar to what Hanse could recall of the events from his history. “Do we have any idea why he’s decided to leave – some argument with the First Lord?”
“That’s possible, sire. We know he has had sequential meetings, first with General Kerensky and then with the First Lord. Lord Cameron is reportedly quite upset about the decision.”
“And Kerensky?”
“It’s hard to say. His staff are extremely loyal and he went to Fort Cameron almost immediately.” The minister paused. “Sire, if you have any additional information from your other sources then my analysts might be able to assemble a better picture of what’s going on.”
“Other sources, minister?”
“Respectfully, sire, there are a couple of times where you’ve been just a little too accurate in pointing us towards data for it to be guesswork – I’m assuming that House Davion have their own private informants outside of normal channels.” She hesitated again. “By the writ you set up for my office, the Ministry ought to be receiving all intelligence data, whatever the source.”
John laughed. “Even if the source is the First Prince, eh? I’m sorry to disappoint you, Minister, but there’s no secret. Just my own personal analysis of events.”
Reznick’s lips twisted. “Sire, Military Intelligence have been looking for the source of some of the raids on the outer reaches of the Suns for decades, but the data that let us narrow down an approximate location of the so-called ‘Dominion’ was you and I can’t trace it back any further.” She met his gaze. “I understand protecting sources, sire, but the entire premise behind my Ministry is that we needed a wider view of events than that which MI2 was providing. If information is being withheld, I can’t offer you assurance that we’re giving you the best possible data.”
The trouble with sharp subordinates was that sometimes you cut yourself on them, John thought ruefully. “If there were such a source, Minister, hypothetically, then let us suppose that it was something that had no material records whatsoever. And that it concerned a handful of data points so sensitive that they were only discussed in person and never with an absolute and definite need to know.”
“That’s no way to run an intelligence operation, sire. Hypothetically.”
“Think of it as a classification that matches the old saying, Francesca. The one along the lines of two can keep a secret, if one of them is dead.”
Her eyebrow arched. “I know the word is abused, but do you mean that literally?”
“I’m sure you don’t expect me to answer that. You can speculate, of course, but privately.”
“I… see. Or rather I don’t but this will likely keep me up at nights wondering.”
“Your curiosity is one of your key qualities, Francesca.” John paused and coughed. “Anyway, we were discussing Stefan Amaris and reactions to his departure. Based on your Ministry’s analysis it seems very likely that anti-Star League sentiment in the Rim Worlds Republic is just as strong as it is in the other territorial states, correct.”
“While MilInt has limited infiltration of the Republic, our available sources confirm that.”
“The insurgency movements in all three of the other Territorial States all have appear to have at least tacit support from the governments – again, nothing’s proven, but it’s very likely that information and even material is being provided. What’s the end goal?”
Reznick considered that for a moment. “There’s no hope of a military solution against the SLDF. It’s just too strong. My assumption has always been that they were hoping the expense and effort of keeping the peace would force the Star League to change the policies that have been put in place. The, if you’ll excuse me, the very short-sighted policies.”
“You’re not wrong on that last point – and I supported some of them so I can’t look elsewhere for blame. Of course, the weakness with that is that the SLDF is disproportionately supported from the Terran Hegemony, so the costs don’t impact the other five member-states to a great effect. A super-majority of the Council, in other words, have no driving reason to do as the Periphery lords hope. And having attended Council meetings with them, they’re fully aware of that.”
“So what do they hope to gain?”
“Let’s look again at the Rim Worlds Republic. Why are they different from the others?”
“That’s their traditional position – House Amaris were founded by a Terran ambassador to the Republic, they’ve always considered themselves to be at least half Terran. I believe Lord Amaris actually has citizenship in the Hegemony.”
“Yes, but what’s that ever got them. Their personal loyalty to the League didn’t sway the rest of the Republic and even when the SLDF forced the Rim Worlders to bow to House Amaris’ wishes, they didn’t get treated as equals. In short, they’ve been treated the same as the Calderons, Centrallas and Avellars – rulers of conquered provinces, retained simply to retain a layer of legitimacy. A pretty weak layer of legitimacy.”
“So you don’t think that Lord Amaris is actually loyal to the Star League, sire?”
“I am speculating, I admit that. But if we accept that the arms shipments you’ve been trying to trace are actually going to the Periphery to support insurgencies, then someone very well connected is covering for them. And who’s the most prominent representative of any Periphery state in the Hegemony?”
“Stefan Amaris.” Reznick’s mind was ticking over rapidly. “He’s not just the First Lord’s confidante, he’s met practically everyone who is anyone in the upper levels of the Hegemony and the Star League’s government and business circles. And even if someone wouldn’t do a favour for him, all he’d have to do is drop a hint that he’s acting on Lord Cameron’s behalf and he’d have a lot of credibility. If he really is the Periphery’s inside man then he’s in position to do an immense amount of damage.”
“There’s no proof, of course. Suspicion is far from enough to do anything directly, and even if I had some evidence, it would need to be incredibly damning in order to convince the First Lord. We’d be accusing his closest friend, someone who’s almost a second father to him. Anything short of a personal confession by Amaris would likely be rejected.” John took a deep breath, “This could all be wrong, of course, but if it isn’t… then why would he leave Terra?”
Francesca Reznick grimaced. “The only plausible reason in that scenario would be that they’ve reached a stage of operations where an inside man is no longer useful. Respectfully, sir, that’s a worrying proposition.”
“Oh, I can think of worse.”
“I’m quite terrified to ask.”
John met her worried gaze with her own. “We agree that there’s no way the Periphery can defeat the SLDF as it stands, but the SLDF is highly dependent upon the Terran Hegemony. So is everything in the Star League – it was deliberately set up that way. So, how could the Periphery states eliminate the Terran Hegemony as a factor?”
.o0O0o.
LXII Corps HQ, Kaiyuh
Crucis March, Federated Suns
18 October 2764
“So that’s the latest development in the house militaries,” McGuinness’ staff intelligence officer reported. “It’s unlikely to impact on us directly, but if a Lyran formation does turn up here, remember that from the regimental level up they’ll be significantly larger than unit designations suggest.”
“Also unwieldy as all hell,” the Corps Commander noted. “God in heaven, can you imagine trying to ship a sixty-four ‘Mech battalion anywhere?”
“To be fair, at other levels it wouldn’t be out of line,” General Delacroix noted. “Just treat one of their regiments as an understrength brigade or a brigade as a division in all but name.”
“That’s just going to be even more confusing,” complained McGuinness. “Probably the idea, actually, the Archon might be trying to confuse force listings when sanity breaks out and the Star League Council put some arms limitations back in place. Sooner or later this arms’ race has got to hit the limits of what they can afford. Is there anything else on the docket?”
“Nothing from my office, ma’am,” the intelligence officer confirmed.
“Right. Well that brings us to the immediate future.” Standing, McGuinness moved over to the wall display and zoomed out until not only her own operational area but also the entire Taurian Concordat was visible. “We’ve had an advisory for Headquarters to draw up plans for a possible redeployment.”
Delacroix smiled slightly. “My 225th, the Corps or the entire Army?”
“The army.”
“Merde.”
“Quite.” McGuinness’ face was set. “We all hoped that the SAS busting the headquarters of the TFA on Camadeierre would give the insurgents across the border second thoughts, unfortunately every other band of terrorists in the Concordat seems determined to make up for the lack of that particular group.” She shrugged. “So while nothing’s been confirmed, the Commanding General has given advance warning that if things continue to deteriorate he’s going to reinforce Nineteenth Army and declare martial law across the Concordat?”
“Can he do that?” asked the staff legal officer. “It would need -”
“I think we can assume that General Kerensky wouldn’t put it in a briefing if he wasn’t sure he could,” McGuinness cut the junior officer off. “General Baptiste has given us and outline and we need to be ready to move fast if the order is given.”
She took a laser pointer and ran it along the Taurian border with the Federated Suns and the Capellan Confederation. “Once the order is given, the first step will be to relocate the armies in question to cantonments along the Taurian borders – secure bases for future operations. House Liao is likely to squeal, so be grateful that we’re not having to deal with them. The First Prince is much less likely to object given how co-operative he is in general. My understanding is that if SLDF bases don’t have enough capacity, AFFS bases may be loaned to us for the purposes.”
“So we move to reinforce the 101st Jump Infantry on the border?” asked Delacroix, pointing to where the nearest of the LXII Corps divisions to the Concordat was stationed on Armington.
“Not quite. We’ll use those bases as transit points, but we’re just preparing them for units further away. “Third Army will be staging into those bases and as soon as they arrive we’re to continue our movement and join forces with the other three Corps of Fourth Army at the spinward end of LXX Corps’ usual operational area.” She circled the region in question.
“Two entire armies would seem sufficient,” her Chief of Staff said thoughtfully, “but that would leave half the border so I assume there’s more.”
“Spot on, Douglas. Our neighbours in Sixth Army will be consolidating into XXXVII Corps hunting grounds to cover the far end of the border and Seventh army will leap frog them to join us in LXX Corps sector. Added to the Nineteenth Army inside the Concordat and that’s near enough a quarter of the SLDF’s strength. Back in the Reunification War it took twelve divisions to bring the Taurians to heel – well now we’re going to have just over a hundred.”
“Now maybe they’ll do the smart thing when they see what’s lined up. I wouldn’t expect it, personally, but it could happen. Professionally, I hope it happens. But if it doesn’t… then we’ll be crossing the border. We don’t have any plans for that yet, although we will need them ready so that’s going to be an order of business in the next few months, but the movement plan comes first.”
Delacroix cleared his throat. “If we do, as you say, cross the border then will you be remaining with us?”
“I damn well, better had.” McGuinness jutted her jaw out. “I know my great-grandfather served here. I know the Taurians take issue with him and by extension, with me. That’s not my problem and I don’t care one way or the other about the Taurians. If HQ choose to recall me, I will protest it.”
“If they’re trying to persuade the Taurians to stand down then you could be a bit… inflammatory.” Douglas Pardoe shrugged when she glared at him.
“Maybe. I’ll grant you that maybe it might have an effect. But we’ve tried sweet reason for a long time and I don’t think the Taurians are likely to listen. But force – or the threat of force – should. And just maybe, when that happens, the lords on the Star League Council will look at it and remember that we’re not just here to keep the Periphery in line. That thought could get it through to them, with a bit of luck, that they need to start thinking very hard about the decisions they’ve been making.”
“Because if they start mobilising then we’re the ones who will shut them down. And none of them, not one of them, wants to be the next one that this happens to.”
McGuinness’ grimly determined face reminded her staff all too well of another face, one from the historical holovids. Their corps commander’s great-grandfather, General Amos Forlough, had been one of the most noted officers in the SLDF’s first generation, the generation that had fought the long and bloody Reunification War. History recorded that he’d commanded both the war effort against the Outworlds Alliance and later that against the Taurian Concordat with great success… but also with unparalleled brutality compared to his peers on either side of the conflict.
.o0O0o.
New Avalon Military Academy, New Avalon
Crucis March, Federated Suns
1 November 2764
The BattleMech on display this time wasn’t a cutting edge prototype, or at least, not exactly. It moved with certainty and the blocky profile made it clear that this wasn’t intended as a specialist unit but more for tough, frontline operations.
“It looks like a Warhammer knock-off,” Joshua muttered from beside his father.
“Actually, the Warhammer was a Terran copy of it,” John corrected him.
“I know, dad. But that’s what everyone’s going to think. And the Warhammer replaced this, so it’s a knock-off.”
“For those facing it, young sir, we don’t mind that impression,” advised the representative from Achernar. James Barrowcliffe had served twenty years with the SLDF and then another ten years with the AFFS as an instructor before the Federated Suns’ premier BattleMech manufacturer had made him an offer he couldn’t refuse. Or at least, he would have been mad to decline – his salary was comparable to that of a Marshal and most of all, he had a chance to play with all the newest ‘Mechs in development while the AFFS had been about to retire him from active piloting due to his age and a suspicious heart flutter on his annual physical.
“But those piloting it should know better. The basic design is three hundred years old but there are still Battleaxes in secondline service in some units. And the reason the design was copied is because it’s sound – you drive a Marauder, right?”
Joshua nodded. “Sure.”
“So what are you complaining about PPCs in each arm for?” Barrowcliffe turned back to John. “The original had LRMs launchers in the chest, so they could alternate fire with the PPCs – the heatsinks weren’t enough to handle sustained PPC fire. Well now we have modern cooling technology, the same ones used in the Emperor assault ‘Mechs Star Corps sells to the AFFS, so that’s not an issue. We replaced them with short range missile launchers like the one mounted up above the right shoulder to provide a cohesive short-range punch – twelve tubes in total. That’s as much as a Javelin or a Whitworth.”
John nodded. “I noticed that and I recall that a lack of short-range firepower was one of the reasons the Battleaxe was originally retired, but another was the armour protection.”
“Sire, we are way ahead of you. This using Norse-34 plating instead of the original StarGuard X and we allocated more weight to protection as well. The chest plate section is between twenty-two and forty-five percent thicker, depending on angle, than the original. That’s comparable to your son’s Marauder.”
“Well if it’s sufficient for the First Prince and his heir, that’s quite respectable,” John agreed, amused at how Joshua had turned away and was counting under his breath.
“And then there’s the cap de’ resistance,” the ex-SLDF sergeant revealed. “Don’t ask me where they got this, but the electronics… I’d swear they’re on par with SLDF line hardware.”
“That’s rather impressive.” John knew exactly how Achernar had come by the electronics, but he wasn’t about to discuss that in public.
Barrowcliffe beamed. “So would you like to give it a try?”
“Ah, I stay current but I’m hardly test pilot material,” the prince demurred.
“You shouldn’t need to be – it’s fully specced for production standards. This is exactly what we’ll be supplying when it’s accepted for service.” The older Mechwarrior grinned. “I suppose I should say if, but a little bird tells me that this demonstration is mostly for form’s sake.”
He was right about that. Forming the four Crucis Dragoon regiments had tapped out a lot of the available heavy and assault weight BattleMechs in stores and if the plans to double the strength of the formation went through, with the idea of maintaining them as the equivalent of their SLDF counterparts, then demand for heavy ‘Mechs would spike again.
John was about to decline the offer when he saw Hanse grinning and nodding. “Well, maybe just once around the testing track,” he conceded. “I do have other commitments today.” I should really give it a try before asking our soldiers to use them, he justified the decision to himself.
With the academy facilities on hand it didn’t take long to outfit the Prince with a cooling vest and a neurohelmet. As a jeep carried him out to the feet of the Battleaxe, he found Hanse – perched beside him – was similarly dressed.
“Eager for a ride?” he murmured, counting on the sound of the jeep’s engine to prevent the driver from overhearing him.
“Yes, I am,” the 31st century Mechwarrior admitted. “I can’t eat or drink, my wife isn’t here and you’re literally the only other person I have to talk to – which is nothing against you, but riding a ‘Mech, even as a passenger, is one of the few experiences left for me.”
Rather than a ladder – although it was embarrassing to be treated as if he were old and decrepit, the First Prince was too valuable to risk him losing his grip and falling several metres – John was lifted up to the cockpit and clambered into the cockpit. Hanse darted past Barrowcliffe and clung to the back of John’s seat, where there probably wasn’t actually room for him. The Battleaxe’s cockpit hadn’t been designed with all the modern amenities and displays that were standardised now, and fitting them had left it a little cramped.
Still, there were worse. Family legend had it that the reason the Suns didn’t build the Stinger, alongside the Wasp one of the most common light ‘Mechs in use, simply because Nikolai Rostov – father of the traitorous general who had been Alexander Davion’s last rival in the Davion Civil War – had been unable to fit inside the cockpit when the Hegemony manufacturers sent an example of what they hoped to export to the Suns. Perhaps that was just a myth – John had never been in a Stinger himself, but the head was certainly slim enough to make it plausible.
Barrowcliffe leaned in and went through slight variations from standard controls that the Battleaxe sported. The primary triggers on each joystick were for the respective PPCs, the secondaries for the missile launchers in the chest, while the right thumb controlled the shoulder mount – very similar to the layout of his Marauder. Assured that John was confident about what he would be doing, the test pilot pulled back and the cockpit sealed, air pressure building slightly as the environmental systems kicked in and over-pressurized in case of any external smoke or worse, any chemical agents. Not very likely on a test track, but you trained the way you expected to fight.
John pressed the activation bar on the fusion reactor and felt it rumble to life beneath him. They must have expected someone to accept the offer to try it out because instead of the usual voice print checks, the security was restricted to a pair of keys that had been the hands of Barrowcliffe and the pilot who had carried out the earlier demonstration.
“Let’s go,” Hanse urged eagerly.
“Hold your horses.” John ran the basic diagnostic checks first, checking that all systems were good to go. It occurred to him that someone would be monitoring him on the radio and chuckled. Fortunately he’d not said anything suspicious. Who wouldn’t be eager, under these circumstances?
Finally assured that he was fully prepared, he pushed down with his feet and seventy tons of metal moved at his command, striding forwards across the training ground.
Hanse cheered loudly. “I missed this, have them set up targets for you to shoot.”
John shook his head but after they’d completed a half-circle of the track, a target indicator popped up anyway, simulating a hostile ‘Mech – amusingly enough given his earlier musing, a Stinger. “Track control, am I cleared to fire on the target.”
“Roger that, sire. Show it what for!”
“I’m surrounded by children,” John said with fake disapproval and moved the joysticks to centre the crosshairs over the simulated Stinger. On impulse he closed his fingers on all the triggers, unleashing a complete alpha strike. The interior of the cockpit grew close and unpleasantly warm in response, the limbs of the Battleaxe moving sluggishly as the heat of the weapons fire sapped the effectiveness of the myomers – but the target had vanished in a very satisfying flash, just as a real Stinger would have if struck by such a tight salvo.
“Nice shooting,” Hanse encouraged him. “Are you going to try to try the jump jets?”
It was an immobile target, John reminded himself. Nothing to be too excited about. “I’ve not jumped a ‘Mech since I graduated from NAMA,” he said, half to track control and half to Hanse. “I think I’ll refrain from putting these to test.”
-
Court of the Star League, Unity City
Terra, Terran Hegemony
12 February 2765
“The problems of the Periphery are problems of our making,” John warned. “Some of them date back to before I was part of this Council, but I’ve seen some of them come to pass.” He looked around the table – Minoru Kurita was deputising for his father, Kenyon Marik sat between the Combine’s heir and the First Lord (who was resting one elbow on the table). Closer sat Barbara Liao and Robert Steiner.
When did I become the old man at this table – by God, it’s been twenty years since I first sat here?
“Not one of you was here for the vote to remove the Edict of 2650 or to approve the Tax Bill of 2753. I can tell you now that they are among my most serious regrets.” He looked across at Kenyon, partly hoping that his appeal would find some traction with the young Captain-General and partly to avoid looking at Hanse, as the redhead had wrapped ghostly fingers around Minoru’s neck and was attempting to strangle the oblivious samurai. “We have a chance to rectify the mistakes that I and your forefathers made. I therefore ask for your support in removing the taxes imposed in 2753 and placing a new cap upon the military forces permitted to the Star League’s member-states.”
There was a pause as he sat down. He hadn’t expected applause, but would someone at least respond?
Richard Cameron moved his arm suddenly. “Ah. Uh, thank you for your proposal. Who wishes to speak next?”
Had he even listened? John thought bleakly.
Beside the First Prince, Robert Steiner harrumphed. “I’m not convinced it would be fiscally responsible to overturn 2753. The League’s budget has already required fresh taxes, as the First Lord put forwards eighteen months ago. Without that revenue, the various expenses of running the Star League… well, something has to give.”
“Subtracting the costs – the vast costs – of the SLDF fighting a constant guerrilla war in the Periphery would more than counter-balance that. We’ve spent more supporting those efforts in the last ten years than we did paying for the entire Reunification War!”
“Well, if you don’t adjust for inflation perhaps,” the Archon shot back.
“You have an idealist’s view of the Territories.” Kenyon Marik spoke at last. “They don’t respond to softness, only to violence. Perhaps you should turn your eloquence to the well-being of the SLDF’s soldiers, Prince Davion. It’s wasted on proles.”
Not one of the four Territorial States was represented today. Amaris, of course, remained in self-imposed exile on Apollo, which had allowed seating arrangements to return to the traditional. The other three had cited the unsettled status of their states as reason to remain at their capitals to ‘co-ordinate’ with Kerensky’s armies.
No one had called them on the fact that Kerensky was sufficiently convinced of their collusion with the insurgents that he had placed an embargo on any efforts to coordinate SLDF activity with local military forces or through the offices of the national governments.
“I am thinking of the soldiers – because if it does come to open warfare, they’ll be paying the price for our high-handedness,” John advised. “You’re all aware by now that General Kerensky is planning to redeploy more than half of the SLDF out into the Periphery, barring any drastic improvement in the situation there. But you may not be aware of the opposition they’ll be facing.”
“The territories don’t have fifty ‘Mech regiments between them,” the Marik reported scornfully, “And more than half of them are in the Republic where -” he nodded to the First Lord “- they needn’t be considered hostile. Kerensky is taking more than thirteen hundred BattleMech regiments to the other three states, even before you consider the supporting arms. Calderon, Avellar and Centralla would be outnumbered something like seventy to one if they tried anything.”
“It’s closer to four or five to one,” John told him. “And Kerensky will be fighting them on their home ground, which evens things out even more. He’ll probably win but the butchers’ bill will be a heavy one.”
“You must be exaggerating,” Barbara Liao said sharply. “Where would they find hundreds of regiments’ worth of equipment from?”
“General Apfelbucher has had a few findings on that matter.” He gestured to the door. “She’s in the palace now – would you rather hear it from her than from me?”
“By all means, I’m rather sick of your voice,” the Chancellor told him frankly.
It only took a few minutes for the head of the SLDF’s Intelligence Command to arrive, standing in the middle of the horseshoe table where they could all see her.
Minoru spoke first. “General Apfelbucher, the First Prince has suggested that the Periphery has assembled some kind of ‘Secret Army’ that represents a sizeable fraction of the SLDF’s strength – comparable to any of our individual House militaries in fact. Can you support this?”
“I can confirm that someone is, Lord Kurita,” the white-haired woman replied politely. “And if it isn’t someone at this table then that doesn’t leave a long list of suspects.”
“Start at the beginning,” Richard told her testily.
“Of course, sir. My own command and Member-State Liaison began an investigation a few years ago. Military manufacture has been a booming industry since the days of your grandfather, Jonathon Cameron. Much of that has gone to the SLDF of course, and over the last ten years to the House militaries, but the numbers didn’t seem to add up.”
“What we found is a pattern of shipments that we couldn’t pinpoint a recipient for. Small quantities individually, the sort of orders that might be made by corporate security forces or a mercenary outfit, but the buyers seem to be shell companies, existing only on paper. To give an example, a shipment of twelve Firestarter light ‘Mechs was ordered from Coventry Metal Works in 2759, in the name of a company registered in the Hegemony. We’ve followed the ‘Mechs as far as Alarion but as far as the paperwork shows, they should still be in a warehouse there. They aren’t, of course.”
Barbara Liao sneered. “A few ‘Mechs here or there don’t add up to Davion’s alarmist predictions.”
“Individually, small shipments. In total the numbers are much higher, Chancellor. Saroyan Special Production, on your own homeworld, has sold over four hundred atmospheric fighters in the last ten years to companies we’ve been investigating – never more than thirty at a time, but it adds up. And heavy military equipment like this is just the tip of the iceberg. The quantities of first rate infantry gear that we can’t account for is even larger.”
“What sort of numbers are we looking at?” asked Minoru thoughtfully.
“You’re correct to compare this to the size your own forces, sir.” Apfelbucher twitched a control wand and a set of charts popped up on the holo-display. “There’s enough equipment here for six hundred or so regiments, perhaps a quarter of them BattleMechs. If that’s split across all three of the current battle zones it would represent near parity of strength with the individual SLDF armies that make up normal garrisons. If all of them are located in only one of them, then it could be as high as sixty or seventy percent of the forces on hand if General Kerensky’s proposed redeployments go through.”
“Let’s not fool ourselves,” John warned. “If this comes to a fight then the SLDF won’t have an easy fight on their hands. Casualties will be in the tens of thousands, at least. That’s young men and women from our worlds, bleeding and dying because we’ve gouged the Periphery like pigs at a trough. There’s very little opportunity left to avoid that.”
“I have to disagree,” Minoru said slowly. “Thank you, General,” he added to Apfelbucher. “I have no further questions, but I hope you’ll share your findings with the ISF?”
“We’ve been sharing data with all national agencies,” she confirmed. “My report is available in today’s classified data archive.”
“You’re dismissed, general.” Richard waved his hand at her. In a wonder of patience he waited for the doors to close before standing. “How dare they!?”
“They -”
“And how dare you,” he continued, pointing at John. “How dare you suggest appeasement? The Captain-General is right, completely. These traitors have been plotting rebellion, and you think that sweet words and tax cuts are in order?”
“I’ve seen war, Lord Cameron. I’ve begun a war once. No soldier in their right mind considers war anything but a last resort.”
“And I have seen the SLDF in action,” the First Lord replied. “I spent three months with General Kerensky observing the PERSUASIVE FORCE exercises eight years ago, right on the frontlines. More forces were amassed for that training exercises than everything you and Chancellor Liao committed to your so-called war. It’s time for the Periphery to see that might first-hand. My lords, I call the vote on Prince Davion’s proposals and I vote nay.”
“Nay,” agreed Kenyon Marik and a moment later Barbara Liao repeated the same word. Half of the council against, which made the decision even before Robert joined them in opposing the abolition of the taxes and of re-instatement of arms limitations.
“Lord Kurita?” asked Cameron.
“On balance, I abstain.” Minoru shrugged. “I am personally as shocked as you to hear that the Periphery has built up such forces, but my father has spoken alongside Lord Davion in the feeling that perhaps some of the measures that they voted for during Kerensky’s regency were less than well thought out. It would be unfaithful of me to vote against wishes of my father but nor can I sanction treason by the territorial states.”
Unseen by anyone but John, Hanse Davion jumped up onto to the table and kicked Minoru full in the face. It had no effect, of course.
“Very well. The council has voted and I accept your decision.” He closed the folder with his proposed legislation and set it inside. “I take it then that General Kerensky has approval to move his forces out to reinforce the garrisons in the Concordat, the Alliance and the Magistracy?”
Minoru nodded. “I suggest we approve by acclamation. Do I hear opposition?”
No one spoke. Marik nodded, as did Robert Steiner, albeit grudgingly. The Coordinator’s son rose to his feet and turned to face Richard squarely. “First Lord Cameron, it is the unanimous opinion of the Council that the SLDF should carry out the recommended troop movements and be placed on a war footing.”
Richard Cameron nodded sharply. “I will have my aides prepare the order for us all to sign before we conclude today’s session.”
I wonder, John thought, how long it will take for anyone else to realise the size of the precipice we just stepped off.
.o0O0o.
Sidebar: History of the Lyran Commonwealth
"The original banner of the Commonwealth was the Lyre, to show they’re a bunch of fiddlers."
The Terran Alliance’s three generations of stagnation produced a new wave of migrants as the victims and losers of 23rd century politics made an exit. However, the commercial availability of starships also provided a lure of profit. The scattered colonies desperately needed trade to survive and this offered wealth and power to those who could deliver it.
In the Coreward-Anti-Spinward sector of human space, the Tamar family had an early advantage, having an established trading network they quickly transitioned to providing anti-piracy defences after the fall of the Alliance. Before the end of the century, Ian McQuistion had transformed Skye Traders into the Federation of Skye and shortly afterwards his one-time protégé Seth founded the Protectorate of Donegal. The reformation of the Terran Alliance into James McKenna’s Terran Hegemony in 2314 marked an upswing in trade, leading to increasing industrialisation by Skye (which was surrounded on all sides) and expansion of Donegal and Tamar with dozens of new colonies.
In 2339 Kevin Tamar brought the established links between the three states to a new level, proposing that they form a combined state that could compete with the much larger Draconis Combine on his border and the Free Worlds League that flanked the other two. While the basic agreement to form the Lyran Commonwealth was concluded in 2341, it took until 2346 to come to an agreement on the government structure and the merger of three distinct economies provide wildly problematic.
The original council of nine Archons also proved drastically corrupt and utterly unable to agree upon which of them should be first among equals (Archon Basilieus). In 2375, with the Tamar Pact on the brink of exiting the Commonwealth they themselves had formed, Seth Marsden’s grandson Robert had had enough. Gathering evidence of his fellow Archons corruption he embarked on a tour of the Commonwealth to assess the results of efforts to stabilise the economy and secure support of planetary leaders. With this support, Marsden formally ousted his peers and became the sole Archon and absolute leader. A new constitution established the Estates General, dominated by his allies, and established a loose set of rights and responsibilities for member rules. Worlds that didn’t comply were brought to heel with blockades or in eight cases by invasion. Both Tamar and Skye were among the eight.
Robert’s brother and heir Alistair Marsden led the Commonwealth into the Age of War, dying victorious after the first great victories in holding back the Combine. His widow, Katherine Steiner, secured the support from the Estates-General and (to the gratitude of history students everywhere) resumed her maiden name, making the son Marsden had never known Alistair Steiner. House Steiner had arrived and while Margaret Olsen, wife of Alistair’s younger son, almost repeated Katherine’s feat in 2501, Robert Steiner successfully secured domination for his House after three years of civil war.
Like any dynasty, the Steiners have produced strong leaders and weak ones. Ironically the Star League has thus far posed the greatest threat to their rule. Archon Viola Steiner’s absence to command the Rim Worlds front of the Reunification War exposed her family to an attempted coup and her berserk response severely damaged relations with the powerful rulers of Skye and Tamar. A generation later, the wealth and prosperity of the Star League persuaded many of the Estates-General that the Commonwealth should be disbanded with the Star League as the only government needed. Only a passionate appeal by Archon Kevin Steiner saved the Commonwealth as a unitary government.
-
Hanse cracks me up ;D :))
nice look at the SLDF's preparations for the war.
-
Fort Cameron, Unity City
Terra, Terran Hegemony
12 February 2765
“And that’s it,” John explained. “I’m sorry, general. I didn’t want this to happen but I haven’t been able to persuade anyone that the problem starts here, not out in the Periphery.”
Kerensky nodded and exhaled. “I thought that it was a long shot, your highness. But I appreciate the support.” He looked down at the sealed envelope on his desk. “This is it?”
“I thought the least I could do was to deliver it personally.”
The general took a letter opener from his desk and levered the archaic wax seal away from the paper envelope. Electronic copies would be on file but there was a degree of additional security and formality in having a paper copy of the orders.
Inside was one sheet of headed paper. Framed between a formal citation that this was a directive of the Star League Council and five signatures were only two paragraphs of instructions.
“I’ll send the orders then,” Kerensky confirmed. “And I’ll join the forces in the Concordat myself – it’s the most likely flashpoint and if one of the other states needs my attention, I’ll be in-between the Alliance and the Magistracy.”
John nodded. “I asked the Council members to send some of their house regiments to support you, but they weren’t interested. Even Minoru refused.”
“That doesn’t particularly surprise me. They’re probably all considering the possibility that you’re wrong about the missing equipment going to the Periphery.”
“Well it has to have gone somewhere.”
The Terran ran one hand back over his shaved scalp. “It’s an interesting blind spot for you to have – didn’t you consider that one or more of the Council could be behind the purchases? The equipment could be sitting in Combine military stores, or somewhere in the Free Worlds League with no one the wiser.”
First Reznick and now Kerensky, I need to be more careful, John thought. “It’s possible, but since Takiro Kurita revealed the depth of the reserves that the DCMS had been building up, the member-states have been watching each other like hawks and we’re all under broadly the same constraints when it comes to personnel and of financing that sort of build-up. The Periphery might have been hit harder by taxes, but they don’t get the same scrutiny.” He smiled sadly. “It’s ironic really, despite everything we’ve done to disadvantage them, the Member States still trust each other less than we do the Territorial States.”
“You may be right. I’m not quite as convinced, but even the possibility of running into that equipment in the Periphery is concerning.” Kerensky shook his head. “Don’t worry too much about not getting support from the House Militaries, it would really only have symbolic value.”
“Sometimes symbolism is important. Even if they’ve decided to sit back and let you do the lifting, the AFFS isn’t going to make that mistake. I’ve given advance orders to concentrate the equivalent of one of your infantry divisions in the Draconis Combine to support your operations in the Outworlds Alliance and I’ll scrape together another unit that size for the Concordat.”
Kerensky’s eyes widened. “That’s quite generous of you, Lord Davion. Are you sure that your High Council will approve of such a deployment.”
“The High Council will listen to the people’s voices and the Star League has a lot of grassroots support, General. You saw it when Simon visited the Lyran Commonwealth in 2750 – it didn’t matter that the Archon and his nobility snubbed him, crowds gathered to see the First Lord and to support the Star League. We – the great lords – have spent too long selfishly thinking that we could prioritise our own realms and leave the League to sort itself out. I don’t have to keep making the same mistakes I did before, that the others are still making.”
Wordlessly, the general extended his hand to John and the two men shook hands.
“Your troops will be welcome,” Kerensky promised, voice full of emotion. “I’ve got a great deal of work to do now, but I hope to speak to you again before we both leave Terra – and perhaps I could visit New Avalon when I’m on the way to the Concordat?”
“Of course, General. It would be my honour to host you and your staff. And please don’t hesitate to call on the AFFS’ shipping and facilities to help with the redeployment. We’re at your service.”
“I’ll hold you to that. General Venel has been tearing his hair out over moving so many units across the Inner Sphere. A few hundred more jumpships and warehouses might stop him from ending up as bald as I am.” Kerensky’s lips curved as he made one of his rare jokes.
.o0O0o.
Avalon City, New Avalon
Crucis March, Federated Suns
20 April 2765
“Sire, your son is here to see you?”
John looked up from the financial reports he’d been examining. Supporting the SLDF’s movements was costing the AFFS a small fortune, although it would eventually be offset by Kerensky’s Quartermaster Command ordering billions of dollars of supplies from worlds along the Outworlds Alliance and Taurian Concordat borders. It would be a bumper years for farmers there, as well as the manufacturers of thousands of mundane items that were consumed by military formations. A proportion of that investment would make its way back to the treasury as taxes were collected.
“Send him in.” He rubbed his eyes and closed down the terminal. While he trusted Joshua, there was no point making him look at fiscal reports – he’d have to suffer that soon enough as it was. In another fourteen months or so his son would have completed his five years of military service, qualifying him for formal recognition as Heir Apparent.”
The door opened and Joshua closed it behind him. “Thanks for making time for me, father.”
“You’re a welcome relief from some of this paperwork. I’d have thought you’d be enjoying your last couple of days of freedom before the ‘Bane redeploy to Galax.” Shuffling units to cover for regiments being attached to the SLDF had left the increasingly important industrial worlds in need of a new garrison and Colonel Stopec had agreed that the Fourth Davion Guards could be spared from New Avalon to fill the need, since there would still be the New Avalon Crucis March Militia and a battalion of the First Guards to ensure the capital’s security, along with elements of the SLDF’s Sixty-Fourth Royal Brigade.
Joshua moved to one of the armchairs in the office and leant against the back. “That’s what I was hoping to ask you about.”
“Oh?” John walked around the desk.
“I’ve requested a transfer to the Twenty-Second Robinson Chevaliers.”
“The ‘Zombie Knights’?” he asked, using the regiment’s nickname – reference to how often they’d been destroyed in action, survivors used as a cadre for raising a new regiment of the Chevaliers. “I didn’t think you were unhappy with the Fourth. They’re who you asked for when you graduated.”
“I’m very happy with the Fourth, dad, it’s just…” The younger Davion looked down at the chair, fingers plucking at the cushioned back.
“It’s just that the Twenty-Second are one of the regiments we’re sending into the Outworlds Alliance, while the Fourth are on garrison assignment.”
He got a nod in reply.
“You’re eager for glory?” John was surprised at the harshness of his tone.
“What?” Joshua looked up. “No, not at all! It’s just… I’ve got experience, well some. The Knights don’t have anyone in a company grade slot that’s done that and there’s an opening for a lance commander. I figured…”
“Most of the regiments in the AFFS haven’t seen much real action. Probably less than twenty percent of our junior officers have been shot at for real.”
“Yes, I know. It’s why I thought, it could save lives if they’ve someone who’s already been through that. That’s all.”
“One of the reasons I chose the Twenty-Second for this deployment was so they could get that experience. It might also tame some of their… wilder qualities.” John turned to the window. “You know how nasty it’s getting there.”
“I heard that there was a nuclear attack, like the one on Demeter.”
“Something very like it. But it wasn’t a factory, it was one of the SLDF’s fortified bases, and half a regiment was vaporised, most of the survivors hospitalised. Say what you will about the war with the Liao but we had some restraint on the battlefield. The Taurians and the Outworlders know they don’t have that luxury, they’re so badly outnumbered.”
Joshua straightened up. “Sir, I know I’m your heir but regulations ban any special favour for Davions served in the AFFS.”
“That’s true, so why are you asking for one.”
“I mean you can’t keep me out of danger.”
“I wish I could,” John told him. “Your mother wishes that too. But Davions don’t shirk our duty and one of those is service to the AFFS. I won’t block it if General Moscoe’s department decides you should join the Twenty-Second, or any of the other regiments we’re seconding to the SLDF for operations. But I won’t pull any strings to get you selected either. If they say no, you’ll suck it up and get on the job you have been given.”
He felt like a hypocrite for saying that. He and Eis Moscoe had already agreed that vacancies in the units operating with the SLDF would be filled first out of sister-regiments, as would transfers of experienced personnel out. The Robinson Chevaliers in the Draconis March and the Syrtis Fusiliers in the Capellan March badly needed combat veterans and so they’d be the first choice for blooding on this campaign. No regiments of the Davion Guards were being sent, so Joshua’s transfer request wouldn’t be approved.
At least, I’d decided that before Joshua brought this up, John comforted himself.
His son nodded obediently. “I promise. I won’t bring it up again, whatever happens. Mark’s putting his name forward too.”
“I’ll be hands off on that as well, although I doubt that Personnel will be moving anyone out of the First Avalon Hussars when they’re still rebuilding from the battalion they lost during GALAHAD.”
“I kind of thought not.” Joshua finally sat down and John took the chair across from him. “I get the feeling he’s going to stay in though. It’s not like me – I know I need to do my time in Administrative Services after one tour of duty. Mark likes having some structure and the military gives him that.”
“He’s a smart boy. He could go far.”
“Yeah, if things had been different then he might have made a good First Prince.”
John shook his head. “I have trouble seeing my cousin Joseph as settling down with anyone, perhaps especially Susan Rand. There was a lot of passion there, but underneath that… maybe not much. A good woman, no doubt, but Joseph had a double-dose of our family’s wild streak.”
Joshua shrugged. “If something were to happen to me, I’m just saying that the Suns could do worse.”
“Mark’s grandfather could have legitimised him if he’d wanted to. I told him when he declared me his heir that I wouldn’t protest. Since he didn’t I’ll respect his decision. If the worst comes to the worst, the next in line is your cousin Alexandra.”
“She’s going to the Concordat, isn’t she?”
“Her regiment’s one of the jump infantry units we’re tapping for that, yes. They almost got called up for the Border war when we considered pushing on St Ives instead of the Sarna worlds.”
Joshua shuddered. “And mom was upset about me going to war. At least I was riding something with armour, you’d never get me up on a jump-pack.”
.o0O0o.
Avalon City, New Avalon
Crucis March, Federated Suns
23 April 2765
“I was impressed with Johnston’s demonstration,” Kerensky agreed. “I’m not going to commit to them at this point of course, but for a company new to the military market, they seem to have their act together.”
“I’m sure the Count will be glad of the endorsement, even if you don’t contract them for any units.”
“I suspect he’d find a customer anyway.” The general declined a glass of water and looked down over Avalon City from the windows of John’s office. “You certainly snapped up General Motors’ new medium when our procurement decided it didn’t suit.”
“One man’s mistake is another man’s opportunity,” John told him. “We had Blackjacks in the field three years ago and they didn’t have any of the problems that the press reported. Good workhorses.”
His guest made a non-committal noise. “Anyway, I’ll cut orders to see if Johnston can rework the Culverin to suit our needs. If we do need more tanks, it’d be quicker to ship them from Barstow than from Terra, even if Johnston can’t build them as fast.”
“Every little helps.”
“I’d hoped five hundred light years of distance might loosen Amaris’ grip on the First Lord, but apparently not.” Kerensky pressed one hand against the window. “I expect he’ll be back on Terra within the year. Richard claims that I threatened the man somehow, that he didn’t feel safe being on the same world as me.”
“I know he met with you before he left for Apollo, but wouldn’t have thought you’d have been so blatant.”
“I was tempted to,” the older man admitted. “That fat fool. Richard needed more attention than I could give him but he wasn’t spoiled until Amaris turned up. The court on Apollo is a snake pit and he brought its poisonous ways to the heart of the Star League.”
“It’s easy to underestimate Lord Amaris. He plays the bluff provincial very well.”
Kerensky turned. “You think it’s a front?”
“You said it yourself, the Rim Worlds Republic’s court is a political nightmare. House Amaris has had to struggle against their cousins in the other major Houses to retain power – look at the Siever Coup. Two brothers work together to kill the new President and then turn on each other with knives only moments later. Do you really think someone as simple as Amaris claims to be would have survived so long?”
“I thought he spent so much time on Terra because his rivals wouldn’t dare to try to remove him while he was surrounded by the First Lord’s security.”
John shook his head. “It probably doesn’t hurt, but I believe he’s been several steps ahead of his enemies all along – both those on Apollo and the others across the Inner Sphere. And I’ve no doubt he considers us amongst them.”
“Would someone who’s pushed Richard into so many damaging decisions really be the sort of… mastermind that you’re suggesting?” asked Kerensky hesitantly.
“I wondered the same. If his goal’s to be the power behind the throne then he’s more or less managed that. But perhaps we shouldn’t confuse a skill at manipulating people with administrative skill. The Rim Worlds is ruled with a heavy hand, I suspect that much of the First Lord’s mistakes stem from thinking that emulating Amaris will work when in fact the political traditions of most of the Inner Sphere are far more liberal. I warned him two years ago about that.” John shrugged. “I doubt much of it sunk in.”
Kerensky shook his head. “Tyrannies rarely end without pain. I’m Russian, we know this.”
“I don’t see a Simon Davion waiting in the wings, perhaps fortunately. Just because it worked for my revered ancestor, a palace coup on Terra would be a disaster.”
“Ah yes. Your own tyrants. But they ruled only for a few years. Not like the Czars of old.”
“I’m glad I didn’t offer you more than water, you must be an incredibly morose drunk if you’re this bad sober.”
Kerensky shrugged. “I’ve no idea. I don’t drink to excess.”
“Are you sure you’re really Russian?” John teased.
“Quite.” He turned around and walked over to the desk. “I have limited time and you said something about shipping.”
“I did, yes. Calderon and the others have to know that even if they do have the sort of reserves General Apfelbucher uncovered, they can’t realistically hope to fight the SLDF on equal terms. That means we have to expect asymmetrical warfare, and logistics are the Achilles heel of any operation – particularly on the sort of scale we’re faced with now.”
“You expect that they’ll try to target supply bases in the Member States?”
“Possibly, but your deployments allow for that. The Taurians have a long naval tradition though, and they might target the supply convoys instead. Nuclear missiles aren’t easy to come by but they’re far easier to come by than warships and even a single hit could wreck a jumpship or put one of your frigates in the dock for a year of repairs.”
“Delivering such a missile is not as easy as one might think, but they only have to get lucky with one missile to hurt us, yes.” Kerensky rubbed his chin. “So we will need more ships for escort duty.”
“Yes, and honestly, the Federated Suns isn’t big enough to make up the difference.”
“I didn’t want to be the one to say it, but no. That would leave the ships we have in the mothballed reserve fleets.”
John moved behind his desk. “Takiro Kurita is as sympathetic as any of the other Council Lords and Barbara Liao hates me, not you. And they’ve probably been looking at the military contracts being picked up by the Federated Suns and feeling a little hard done by.”
“If they were to be as unobstructive as your realm, I would be happy to buy from their corporations,” the General protested.
“It’s always easier to blame someone else though. What I had in mind is the old Carson and Naga-class destroyers the SLDF mothballed years ago. They’re well behind the cutting edge but they’re suitable for convoy defense.”
“The Carsons were retired for engine difficulties, were they not?”
“According to my naval staff, it was due to faults with extended use of their engines above routine thrust. Given they were supposed to patrol, that was a problem but convoy work means sticking at jump points with the freighters and transports, so that shouldn’t be a problem.”
“You want me to authorise yards in the Combine and the Confederation to recondition those ships for service?”
“It could soothe some feathers – some of them could be repaired in the Suns but we don’t have the capacity for a hundred destroyers and the Hegemony’s yards are mostly committed to new construction or your existing maintenance schedule.”
“All of this will cost millions of dollars, of course.”
John spread his hands. “One successful raid on the supply routes could cost that much easily. You and I have both warned the Star League Council of how expensive this war may become. Perhaps when they see the impact on the budget it’ll persuade them that we’re not just blowing smoke in their face.”
-
Newhope, Mavegh
Perdition Union, Taurian Concordat
28 May 2765
Alexandra Davion liked to think she was basically a good person. She spared at least a split second to hope that the family who lived in the apartment had evacuated the building before the fighting began. With that done she threw a concussion grenade through the window.
The explosion cut off the machine gun fire that was coming from the balcony and two of her squad dashed forward in the opening. As soon as they were far enough away not to catch someone in the backwash, they ignited the jump-packs they were wearing and bounded up and off the street. Someone down the street turned a second machine gun in their direction but it was too late, the men plunged into the apartment, one going through what was left of the window and the other crashing through the French window of the balcony.
From the cover she’d ducked back into, Alexandra unslung her carbine and lined up a shot on the second machinegun using the optical sight on the upper rail. When she fired the laser she saw the machine barrel jerk fiercely. With luck the shot had damaged it rather than just brush it aside. While barrel replacement wasn’t a matter of Kearney-Fuchida physics, it wasn’t something you wanted to be doing in the middle of a fire fight either. That made just about everything harder.
“Clear!” the two advance members of the squad called and the next two joined them rushing across the street. This time one of them, Brubaker, took a hit and blood sprayed from his leg as he went down.
Without thinking about it, Alexandra dived out from behind cover and caught hold of him by the jump-pack, yanking him towards the opposite side of the street. Her pack couldn’t have carried them both, even if she could have supported the weight of someone who had a good ten kilograms over her, but he had sense to kick off with his feet and they somehow reached the shelter of the entrance to the apartment building’s lobby.
“You going to be okay, Brubaker?”
The energy behind the obscenities he was muttering convinced her that the answer was yes.
“Did anyone see who shot Brubaker?” she demanded on the squad push.
“Sniper, leftenant. APC’s moving forwards to suppress him so we can re-join you.”
“Right.” Shaking her head she looked up at the stairs as heavy boots stamped down it.
“L-T?”
“Yeah, give me some cover.” Bending she checked Brubaker’s leg now that she wasn’t having to keep an eye out for more Taurians. It looked like a through and through – must have been a small calibre round. “What are you whining about?” she asked him, pulling an injector out of her vest. Stabbing it into the man’s calf she injected him with a painkiller and then uncapped the other end so she could spray the outside of the wound with a combined anti-septic and sealing agent. “I’ve hurt myself worse playing hockey.”
“I heard about girls’ hockey,” he grunted. “Worse than rugby.”
“Sit down and sleep it off,” Alexandra directed as the remaining three members of her squad joined her. “You guys keep an eye on the stairs, the front door and -” She looked across the lobby, seeing that a second door opened on a children’s playground, surrounded on three sides by the U-shaped block. “- the back too.”
“Sniper’s dealt with,” Weber advised, his broad face discomfited. “Kid with a hunting rifle, he fell out of his roost after Second squad threw a grenade up into it.”
“Alive?”
“Three floors down, broke his neck,” the trooper said sadly. “What the ******, L-T? I mean, why?”
“Good question. Keep an eye on Brubaker while I scare up a medevac.” Adjusting the settings on her comm-gauntlet, she raised it to her lips. “Third squad, can you bring the APC forward two streets. Brubaker’s taken a leg hit and we need him inside of something mobile.”
“Got a problem, Leftenant. A bendy tank’s between us and you, can’t get past it.”
“Never rains but it pours,” she said. “Taurian or a SLDFer who got stuck?”
“Number one. We don’t have the firepower to handle that.”
“Great.” The Turhan – nicknamed the bendy tank for the articulated joint linking the armoured cab and one infantry compartment with the turret and a second infantry bay in the aft section – was a middling sized tank designed to get around the tight confines of an urban combat. The dual lasers would be lethal against the wheeled APCs that provided her three squads with most of their mobility. “Where’s our heavy support?”
“Last word from Golf Seventeenth was that they were ‘jousting’ with enemy ‘Mechs about five klicks away.”
‘Jousting’? ****** mechjocks. G Company of the Seventeenth New Syrtis Fusiliers were supposed to be backing up this infantry sweep, not chasing bait around the corn-fields. “Anyone else available?”
“Next nearest is the SLDF task group thirty klicks south.”
“Yeah, not figuring they’d get here in time to be useful.” Besides, they had their own infantry to support, she thought. “Okay, I’ll figure something out. Let me know if it starts moving.”
Right, Alexandra. Tactical exercise time. One tank, armed with two machineguns, one in a cupola, and a pair of large lasers. You have nineteen jump infantry counting yourself, and three APCs. Terrain is urban, four storey blocks… Right. Use the rooftops.
Against ‘Mechs that would be stupid – you wanted to be down in the dirt where the lordly ‘Mechwarriors would miss you scurrying around their ankles. But tanks were different, they were more likely to be watching ground level and miss something above them – unless the tank commander was smart. But how likely was that?
This one is smart enough to divide your force, she reminded herself. And the Turhan might have supporting infantry. “Who has grenades left?”
Three hands went up. “Great, well volunteered. You’re with me.”
“Save the grenades, Jack, you might need them later,” the oldest of the three jump troopers grumbled as he followed her up the stairs. “Great thinking, Danny. Especially if we get dragged into playing hero.”
Alexandra chuckled. “Right, we need the Turhan out of the way so we can get Brubaker to the APCs. In theory there could be anything up to a platoon with it so we need to play this cagey.”
The roof door was locked. Alexandra shook it once, then pointed the carbine’s muzzle at the hinge pins where they were visible. Two long pulses pulverised the pins and when she smacked the door it bounced out of the frame.
“Why not shoot the lock?” the youngest member of the squad asked, adjusting the shooting goggles he wore under his helmet.
“It’s usually a safe bet that the bar of a lock is sturdier than the hinge pins,” Jack told him before Alexandra could reply. “If you don’t mind, L-T, I’ll take point.”
Easing out through the door he swept the roof with the muzzle of his own carbine. “Clear, but we’ll be awfully exposed. Better crawl.”
The four soldiers wormed their way along the roof and the spectacled soldier produced a field periscope – not part of the usual kit – from his pocket so Alexandra could look over the edge of the roof without exposing herself.
Sure enough, she saw a Turhan occupying the next junction broadside on, turret pointed in the direction of her APCs and Third Squad. There were dismounted infantry facing the same way, except for a couple of sentries covering the rear – perhaps two squads in total. The tank itself had SLDF colours except for a hastily stencilled white set of bull-horns painted on the side to mark its Taurian allegiance.
“Could be worse.” She turned around and lifted her comm gauntlet to her lips. “Second squad, what’s your position?”
“Moving back to support Third.”
“Right. We’re going to want suppressing fire on the enemy infantry in a couple of minutes, can you provide that?”
“We’re more or less in front of the Turhan. Once its machinegun opens up we’ll have to back off.”
“That’s fine, just get their attention.”
“Can do, L-T.”
“You’re thinking vertical envelopment,” said Jack, now looking through the periscope. “That means taking out the men covering this side.”
“Yep. Who are the best shots?”
The man raised his hand and then pointed at the thus far silent woman with them. “Me and Sammy. That just leaves you and Danny to handle the grenades.”
“Hand over your spares,” Alexandra demanded and raised an eyebrow at the selection. “Four frags, two concussion, a smoke grenade and… is that an incendiary?”
Sammy flushed. “They’re handy sometimes,” she said defensively.
“That wasn’t a complaint,” Alexandra assured her, taking the incendiary and a concussion grenade. “You take the smoke and a frag,” she instructed the other trooper. “If they’ve dismounted the infantry then the hatches won’t be dogged down from inside. Or it’s not likely – they’d want the men to be able to get back inside quickly and the commander would want to be able to stick his head out of the turret to talk to them. So I’ll jump for the top of the turret and you take the side-hatch on the forward section. Crack it open, drop the grenades in and then get away.”
“This isn’t exactly the approved way of dealing with tanks, Leftenant.”
Alexandra grimaced. “I know, but the Mechwarriors otherwise involved.”
Jack looked up at the sky. “Somewhere out in the open with no cover?”
She followed his gaze and saw the contrails of jet engines marking the sky. “I’d assume so. I suppose they’ll be getting a lesson in close air support. Nothing much we can do about it.”
Her comm-gauntlet crackled. “L-T, we’re ready when you are.”
Alexandra turned, gripping the two grenades in her free hand. “Ready?”
Jack and Sammy crouched, ready to lean up over the roof edge, while Danny nervously adjusted the fit of his jump-pack. They all nodded.
“Go!” she snapped and took two running steps before triggering her pack.
As she arced up over the street she saw laser fire impacting the front of the Turhan. Both sentries turned in that direction and then fell without any other warning.
As the machine gun on the prow of the tank opened fire, Alexandra saw the hatch on the turret open and the helmeted head of the tank’s commander rise into view.
He couldn’t possibly miss seeing her, she saw wide eyes and the machine gun in the cupola slewed towards her but she was too close, above its arc.
Her boots crashed down onto the roof of the tank with knee jarring force and Alexandra let her legs collapse beneath her, driving the heavily reinforced comm-gauntlet into the side of the tank commander’s head, right below the edge of the helmet. She felt bone break and he slumped sideways.
Not stopping for a second hit, the young woman primed both grenades and dropped them past the stunned man.
She flung herself off the Turhan and sprinted for cover inside the nearest building, a corner store. Out of the corner of her eye she saw Danny heading for cover behind a heavy planter on the pavement.
Thick ochre smoke billowed from the forwards hatch of the Turhan, followed by the thump of her concussion grenade and the sharper bang of the frag.
For a moment nothing seemed to happen and then the tank commander started screaming. He dragged himself out of his hatch and rolled himself off the edge of the turret, legs on fire. More smoke, this black and greasy, rose from the cupola.
“Tank’s out of action,” she snapped. “APCs, move in and clear the infantry.”
With a roar of engines the three personnel carriers accelerated down the street towards the Taurian infantry, twin mini-guns spitting fire at them. Without the lasers of the tank to deter them, they were more than able to push the Taurians back and four of the infantry tried to fall back behind the burning Turhan’s bulk. Renewing their fusillade, Second squad cut them down.
Five minutes later Brubaker was sitting in one of the APCs while three prisoners were being manacled inside another as Alexandra conscientiously reported in the sight of jet aircraft, knowing that none were in use here by the AFFS or SLDF. It probably wouldn’t help the Fusiliers, but at least she’d tried.
.o0O0o.
Sidebar: Autocracy vs. Democracy
"To lead, first find out where your followers are going. Then get out in front."
The political chaos of the Terran Alliance Parliament was the herald of the end for the liberal western democracy as a model for leadership over the centuries to follow. Out on the colonies, the turmoil led to a demand for strong executive authority to deal with the crisis situation, rejecting the ‘tyranny of a distant majority’ that the Terran Alliance had represented. Almost immediately, attempts were made to rein such authority in with checks and balances.
Naturally the growing pains of new systems of government were drawn out and bloody. In general though, the era was one of worlds rallying around capable and charismatic leaders. The wisest of these leaders listened to popular opinion but delegated power only to trusted friends and family who they knew shared their interests. Typically these rulers amassed power in part through ownership of the industries growing up to fill gaps left by the Terrans. It’s no accident that even before House Davion rose to dominate New Avalon they owned the shipyard responsible for the first Avalon-built starships.
With communications still limited to courier vessels, diplomacy took time and military forces could be out of touch for months or even years. Both diplomacy and military leadership became invested in personal relationships. Shiro Kurita’s ability to dominate a vast swathe of worlds in a very short span of time was very much invested in the trust he could place in his brother Urizen and their respective broods of children. Terms of office were no longer customary given the preference for long-term stability and rulers groomed their successors within their inner circles, raising their children to inherit not only their property but the political power that their wealth would grant them.
The establishment of the Free Worlds League in 2271 brought together three dynasties that had each established multi-world realms. In order to tie House Selaj, House Allison and House Marik’s interests to the new state, each family was granted hereditary control over one of the government ministries. While the League’s power would primarily be invested in a Parliament, it was understood that the Houses would be dominant within it. Similarly, the Lyran Commonwealth was founded upon the alliance of worlds dominated by the Tamar, McQuiston and Marsden families.
Once again, these realms learned however that sharing power left their alliances uncertain in leadership. While the Free Worlds League addressed this by appointing Captain-Generals to serve two year terms in the event of war or other crisis (a post that House Marik would almost exclusively control), the Lyran Commonwealth endured a generation of strife before Robert Marsden ousted his fellow Archons and assumed sole power. And yet… even here a balance was needed for among the first steps the new ruler of the Commonwealth took was to create the Estates General, an advisory board representing the interests of more than half the worlds in the Commonwealth.
While the dynasties adopted the titles and styles of a millennium before, very few would be so foolish as to assume their power rested anywhere but upon the, sometimes grudging, consent of those they led.
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Nice. Are you sure you aren't drawing on official sources for those sidebars?
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Nice. Are you sure you aren't drawing on official sources for those sidebars?
seconded
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Just returned to the board after a long hiatus, and look what I find!
Your writing just keeps getting better, Drakensis.
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I'm not inventing any of the information in the sidebars, although it's my own summary of the events and information.
The fic is posted on several sites so I'm including the sidebars for the benefit of readers who may not be familiar with the Battletech universe.
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Court of the Star League, Unity City
Terra, Terran Hegemony
24 July 2765
“The fighting in the Periphery is expected to take at least another year, potentially two,” Kerensky warned them. His presence was virtual – an expensive double-chain of HPG connections linked every capital world, even those of the Periphery, to Terra. Worlds anywhere long those chains could use them, so while the Hyades themselves weren’t secure, Kerensky was able to use the HPG stations on New Vallis to address the Star League Council from his flagship in orbit and receive their responses with only a few seconds lag.
“It’s unfortunate, but at least we now know where the missing equipment went,” Kenyon Marik noted drily. “I trust that measures have been taken to confirm that our own manufacturers aren’t sending replacement weapons to the Periphery to replace those that the SLDF is destroying?”
“Yes, yes.” Richard nodded dismissively. “The BSLA has taken care of it. And fines are being levied for support of the rebels.”
“Very sagacious.” Barbara Liao’s voice was sarcastic. “A hundred million or two against the billions being poured into the Federated Suns and Free Worlds League economies in support of the war efforts.”
“Along with the payments going to your shipyards and Kuritas.” Robert Steiner gave the Chancellor a peevish look. “It seems that only the Lyran Commonwealth isn’t worth the SLDF’s time.”
“You have the luxury of not bordering one of the uprisings,” General Kerensky noted after a few seconds delay. “However, if you wish to contribute and since I understand you’ve decided against volunteering soldiers to fight in the Periphery, there would be a case for hiring your forces as mercenaries.”
Richard’s head snapped up. “What do you mean?” he demanded shrilly. “Why is this the first I’ve heard of it?”
“While the bulk of the rebel activity is located in the Periphery, attacks by the PLM have continued to affect the Hegemony and other major worlds,” Kerensky reminded them. “There have been a number of arrests, however the SLDF’s forces are now stretched to the point it’s proving difficult to provide the support which security services have previously been able to call upon.”
“If you think I will allow Lyran troops into the League, you’re delusional,” snapped the Captain-General.
“I do not. However, if they were to be deployed into the Hegemony – given the traditionally warm relations between House Steiner and House Cameron, it would raise no eyebrows and free several divisions from First Army to reinforce operations in the other member states. I trust,” Kerensky added heavily, “that the Star League’s most elite soldiers would not be similarly unwelcome.”
If Kenyon’s face was any indicator then the Commanding General’s trust might be misplaced, but he said nothing in direct response.
“Something might be arranged,” Robert said in a considering tone. “We do have our own security to consider with the reduced SLDF presence, but something could perhaps be -”
“No.”
All eyes went to the seat of the First Lord. John felt a quiver of anticipation. For the first time in the years since he’d taken his seat – perhaps for the first time in his life - Richard Cameron actually sounded like his father.
“You will not bring the armies of another House into my realm without my consent, General Kerensky. Much less without so much as consulting me.”
John leant back. Just for a moment he could imagine that it was Simon Cameron, that mad idealist who believed in the Star League with every fibre of his body and who might, just possibly, have had the spark of charisma and unflinching determination to make them all believe in it again.
“I’ve made other arrangements, General Kerensky.”
The transmission delay wasn’t enough to explain the pause. Clearly this had taken the Commanding General as much by surprise as anyone else. “And what arrangements might these be, my lord?”
Richard’s face split in a smug grim. “Per a treaty I arranged last year, regiments of the Rim Worlds Republic will supplement the defensive needs of the Hegemony.”
John closed his eyes and swallowed curses. He should have known, Hanse had warned him. But he’d allowed hope to over-ride good sense.
“Are you sure that that’s wise?” Takiro Kurita’s voice was level and measured. “While I have no grounds to doubt President Amaris’ own fidelity, history has shown that the Rim Worlds regiments are more likely to side with the other periphery states than they are with the Star League. Placing them at the heart of the Star League seems… unwise.”
“Have your regiments faced the rebels in battle?” Cameron asked rhetorically. “Or yours, Chancellor? Archon Steiner’s have not, nor the Captain-General’s forces. It is hardly fair for you to question the loyalties of Stefan’s forces when you have chosen to stand aside from this conflict. And his soldiers will not be present as mere mercenaries, which is what you propose, General Kerensky. They will serve here as loyal regular soldiers of the Republic and of the Star League. What more could be asked?”
“I trust you will not dispute that the AFFS has participated in fighting the Uprising,” asked John. “Perhaps that will give some credibility when I say that I share Lord Kurita’s concerns.”
“Very well, Lord Davion.” Richard turned towards him. “I do accept your commitment as greater than that of your peers. However, I ask that you extend the same courtesy towards Lord Amaris. You may be unaware but the Rim Worlds Republic has not been entirely spared from the fires of this conflict.”
“Please enlighten me.”
“As it happens, a division-sized force of rebels entered the Rim Worlds Republic earlier in the year, attempting to rally support against Stefan and to incite his realm to join them in seceding from the Star League. In light of the immense scale of operations that have been necessary already, I think we can agree that this would have been disastrous had they succeeded.” Richard paused for effect. “However, they failed utterly. A force of the Rim Worlds Army under a General Eukai converged upon the rebels and cornered them at Gotterdammerung, less than seventy light years from Apollo. And they destroyed the rebels utterly.”
The First Lord placed his hands on the table. “News has only just arrived here of the battle, I understand of course that General Kerensky and Prince Davion could not possibly have learned of it before now. But surely now your doubts can be dismissed!”
John’s heart sank. What the hell could he do now?
“An impressive feat, Lord Cameron.” Takiro Kurita remained rigid in his chair. “However, given the limited forces available to him, even in victory the forces of the Rim Worlds Republic must have been depleted and they are of course many times smaller than the armed forces of the Member-States. He cannot possibly replace a large portion of First Army’s garrisons while still protecting his own realm.”
“At least he is prepared to try, which is more than I see you doing!” Richard rose to his feet. “This is my decision, and my word is final. I will not be lectured by a relic of the last century.”
Takiro’s face whitened and he braced to stand. Before he could retaliate, however, Robert Steiner spoke: “Lord Cameron, I must apologise.”
All eyes swung to the Archon, who had been called many things over the five years since he replaced his father in the Council, but never apologetic.”
“You are right to say that the majority of us have not contributed to your efforts to subdue the rebels. May I therefore suggest that as a compromise, while Lord Amaris’ forces may supplement your own as you see fit, that the five of us, less Lord Davion if he feels his existing commitments in the Periphery too draining, should also provide regiments to assist. There are after all, a number of worlds garrisoned by the First Army which are jointly owned by the Terran Hegemony and our own realms.”
Kenyon Marik nodded. “Agreed. The League – the Free Worlds League – will protect the shared worlds.” He looked over to Barbara Liao, on the far side of Richard. “And you Chancellor?”
She sniffed. “If the First Lord finds it acceptable.”
“I do,” he said, taking his seat.
As he descended though, the Coordinator rose. Taking his cane he walked away from the table. Only when he reached the door did he turn to address them. “The Mustered Soldiery will play their part,” he said shortly, before stumping away.
Richard shook his head. “Stubborn old man. What about you, Lord Davion? You’ve already sent two divisions to help Kerensky.”
Looking into the centre of the room, John saw a defeated look on the general’s face that reflected his own feelings. “I’ll see what I can do. Robert, the Illician Lancer’s contract is up for renewal before the end of the year isn’t it? Let me hire them away from you and I should be able to stretch the AFFS a little further.”
The Archon gave him a sour look. “And I should do this because…?”
“It’s your idea.” And I’m going to need every regiment I can get if things go as badly as Hanse told me. I’m sorry, Robert, but push comes to shove I care more about my people than I do the Lyrans.
.o0O0o.
Court of the Star League, Unity City
Terra, Terran Hegemony
3 August 2765
For a member of the Star League Council and presumably one of the most important people alive, it had been dismayingly difficult to persuade the Ministry of Communications to set up these calls for him. John got the feeling that frantic conversations had taken place between the Minister and General Apfelbucher before the connection had been approved.
The screen lit up and John found himself looking at a moderately pretty young woman wearing a simple light blue dress, scores of hand-made necklaces around her neck.
“Oh, Prince Davion!” she exclaimed. “I was so surprised to hear from you.”
“I wanted to express my condolences upon the death of your grandmother, Lady Avellar.”
“Oh that is so kind of you.” She looked down for a moment. “She’d been so terribly ill, and she must have been in terrible pain, but you know: when she died she was smiling so she must be in a better place now.” A thought struck her. “Oh, and you don’t have to call me Lady Avellar. Allyce is fine, after all we’re neighbours.”
“Uh, then please call me John.”
“Thank you, John. I hope you’re well – and your family?”
“They’re doing very well, thank you. I hope to return home to them soon.”
“Oh that’s right!” Allyce struck one fist against her open hand as if in realisation. “You’re on Terra, aren’t you? With that nice Richard Cameron and Uncle Stefan.”
Feeling distinctly out of his depth, John nodded. “Uh, well Richard, yes. Lord Amaris returned to Apollo last year.”
She shook her head. “Poor Richard, that must be so hard for him. They’re devoted to each other, you know. He’s a very lonely boy and Uncle Stefan’s such a sweet, jolly man.”
“Richard’s married now,” John pointed out. “That often makes changes to one’s life.”
“Oh yes, and there’s a baby on the way. I hope to visit next year when the child’s due.”
John made a mental not to ensure he had excuses ready around the start of the year so that he didn’t have to deal with Allyce Avellar in person. Hanse had been entirely too evasive in describing her and he was beginning to suspect why. “I was hoping we could discuss the current war.”
Allyce’s face fell. “It’s all anyone wants to discuss, but no one seems to see how pointless it is,” she said. “I’ve listened and listened, but everyone claims that they don’t have a choice and that the other people have forced them into it. Wouldn’t it be so much easier for them to simply not shoot at each other?”
“Sometimes it’s the simplest things that are the hardest to accomplish,” he offered sympathetically. “I’m doing everything I can think of to bring it to an end quickly.”
“Thank you, John. That means so much to me, that you’d be willing to take the first step and have your soldiers lay down their arms.”
“Well, one step at a time,” he said, thinking quickly. The Chevaliers had taken a pounding and two regiments of infantry had been rotated off the lines while the others had received quite a lot of replacements. “They’re under firm orders to act as peacekeepers, but things get very difficult when they’re being shot at.”
The young woman actually had tears forming at the corners of her eyes. “But that’s what everyone else says, and nothing ever gets done to stop this,” she said, just a little accusingly.
“Well, has anyone discussed relief efforts?”
Allyce frowned. “Yes…” she allowed, hesitantly.
“I’ve had some very worrying reports about infrastructure damage,” he explained. “Things like water treatment plants being damaged, or the fusion reactors that power the cities. For every person who’s been wounded, I’m told there are fifteen or maybe even twenty who are struggling to receive clean drinking water or electricity for their household.”
“Oh yes, I know. But everything’s so expensive and when I asked Richard for help he said that I’d have to stop the fighting first, which is just a little unfair when I’ve been trying so hard and he wouldn’t agree to tell Mr Kerensky that his soldiers could go home.”
“Well, he’s under a lot of pressure. As I understand it, a lot of the reactors and so forth were made in the Hegemony originally? I know a lot of the reconstruction and the new colonies set up after the wars two hundred years ago used them because the Hegemony equipment was cheaper than building locally, even with the shipping costs?”
She frowned. “That sounds a great deal like what Simpson told me a few weeks ago. My brother Simpson, I mean,”
“Well I don’t have access to Hegemony parts either, so repairing your equipment will take longer but we do build emergency generators. They won’t last as long, but we’ve got a good reserve of them as well as emergency water filters, medical supplies and so forth. I was hoping I could send a few ships into the Alliance so that we can start making things better for your people.” He smiled warmly at her. “Maybe the soldiers can spend their time setting that up instead of fighting.”
“Oh John!” Allyce pressed her hands together. “That would be wonderful. Would Mr Kerensky let you do that?”
“Well, I asked him and he seemed to think it was a good idea.” Admittedly, he’d presented the idea in terms of stick and carrot, but there was no need to tell Allyce that.
“You’re being incredibly generous, John. Thank you so much.”
“And you are very welcome,” he said, trying to work out how he could politely extricate himself from the conversation.
.o0O0o.
“Hanse, what the hell?” he asked, almost an hour of platitudes later.
“I think you’ve made a friend,” the man said with a grin.
“No, seriously. Why didn’t you tell me what she was like?”
He got a shrug. “I thought about it, but honestly, would you have believed me?”
“How in the world did she end up President of the Outworlds Alliance?”
“She’s the oldest Avellar alive, that’s more or less the only requirement. Most of the power rests with the Executive Parliament anyway, so there’s no great pressure to ensure the President can do more than stand in front of a podium and read a speech. Allyce is a bit of a character, isn’t she?”
“Does she even live in the same universe as the rest of us?”
“There’s a part of me that would like to visit that universe,” Hanse said under his breath. “I’d probably be running it in a fortnight. If Melissa was with me, four days at most.”
John shook his head. “She’s going to be a disaster.”
“Oddly enough no. Oh, she’s replaced eventually, but according to the history books even if she made the decisions she does for all the wrong reasons it’s very likely they were the best decisions that could have been made under the circumstances.”
“I have trouble believing that.”
“She’s immensely popular, you have to remember that in the core systems of the Alliance as much as forty percent of the population are hard-core pacifists. And since the last thing Allyce Avellar would ever do was start a war or join in with an existing one, her approval rate was immense.”
“And that’s the right thing to do?” asked John.
“The Alliance Military Corps is tiny, and the vast majority of the population willing and able to fight are with the forces the SLDF is very effectively smashing. There’s really no way that joining the war against Amaris would ever have benefitted the Alliance. All they want is to be left alone and since they don’t really have anything that anyone needs, a leader who refused point blank to have anything to do with Kerensky or Amaris exposed them to as little damage as possible.”
John shook his head. “I suppose I could see that. I’d still rather deal with someone with their head screwed on tighter. What were her reasons, anyway?”
Hanse blinked. “Oh, for not getting involved?”
“Yes, you said they were the wrong reasons.”
The redhead shrugged. “She didn’t believe in it.”
“In what?”
“Any of it. That Amaris had killed Richard or that Kerensky would really have to fight world by world across the Hegemony. It simply made no sense to her so she assumed that everyone who told her it was so was mistaken. By the time Kerensky actually returned to the Hegemony she’d been removed, but at that point everyone had more or less accepted that the Alliance wasn’t going to get involved.”
John exhaled slowly. “Poor girl. She didn’t come to a bad end did she?”
“I believe she spent the rest of her life as an artist. There was a picture by her in the palace gallery – not my preference but it was more or less priceless by the 31st century.” He looked down at her watch. “Oh, you mentioned wanting to speak to someone with their head screwed on better… isn’t it nearly time to talk to Nicoletta Calderon.”
Glaring at him, the Prince refilled his water glass. “I take it back. Talking to the Protector is like digesting broken glass.”
.o0O0o.
Avalon City, New Avalon
Crucis March, Federated Suns
1 December 2765
Heather Green-Davion’s replacement wasn’t turning out to be one of John’s favourite people. Hans Zibler was from a veritable military dynasty, whose members had served in the AFFS for generations. More recent generations had sent some of their scions into the SLDF, creating a web of connections that the Prince had hoped would help with the challenges of coordinating the supply of equipment to the AFFS while still allowing the Federated Suns’ manufacturers to fulfil SLDF contracts.
“So what seems to be the problem?” he asked. “We’re going to need the additional personnel carriers for our infantry, and reports from the field have made it clear that they need something that can provide better fire support.”
Despite the lessons learned over the last few years, there had been too many instances of ‘Mechwarriors being drawn away from the infantry they should have been. Tighter discipline should help, and there had been court-martials to make the point, but that wouldn’t bring back the infantry who’d been lost as a result.
Combined with the SLDF making blanket purchases to replace their own APC losses, the need had been there to explore new sources and several corporations had submitted candidates.
“The development board has approved the Cazador, from Jerricho Industries,” Zibler responded defensively. “We’ve issued the first contracts and we’re very close to finalising our approval of the Kynigos urban infantry transport. We’re just waiting on a few more tests of their missile launcher systems but I don’t expect there to be any problems so Corean can expect orders from my department by the end of the year, it’s just a question of whether we need to ask for some very minor changes or not.”
“Aye, well and good,” Stopec grumbled. “But the tracked bids are the most important, more than forty percent of our infantry use tracked transports and you’re saying you’re not ready to make a decision and won’t be until the next quarter.”
“That’s very much the issue, Colonel.” Zibler tugged on his uniform tunic. “We’re going to be needing the new tracked infantry carrier in large numbers and there are serious questions about whether or not the leading contender can be built in the quantities required.”
John twirled an electronic stylus in the fingers of one hand. “But there is a unit that stands out – as with the other categories you’ve settled on a design and it’s the details of the contract holding things back.”
“Precisely, sire. We’ve a team on the way to New Syrtis now to check the production facilities. If they’re adequate, then we can go ahead, but otherwise we’ll need to look at arranging licensing to other firms. You know how delicate such negotiations can be.”
“I’m also aware that we need the vehicles sooner rather than later. Couldn’t you have sent a request to New Syrtis for someone to carry out those checks immediately? It’s only the command centre for the entire Capellan March so they wouldn’t have much difficulty finding some officers for inspections.”
Zibler shook his head. “I’m sorry, sire, but the owners of Johnston Industries are very well connected on New Syrtis. I’m not saying that they would attempt to influence any survey team arranged locally, but even the possibility could cause allegations and possibly tie up procurement in lawsuits for years. I have to make sure this is above board in all respects.”
Stopec shook his head. “And we need those vehicles as soon as possible.”
John put down the stylus and gestured for the commander of the Fourth Davion Guards to let him handle this. “General Zibler, as soon as this meeting is over I want you to contact Corean and Johnston directly and informally let them know that their designs have been accepted for production and that contracts will be forthcoming by the end of this month for Corean and the end of next month for Johnston.”
“Sire,” the general responded, not in protest as much as grudging acknowledgement.
“Then send word ahead to New Syrtis for them to begin the survey work. Your team can cross-check their results if anything seems out of order once they arrive. In the meantime, I’ll speak to Count Johnston and let him know how important this is to the AFFS and that we’ll be putting a clause in the contracts such that if they can’t meet the rate of production we’re looking for after twenty-four months that we’ll require licensing to be sold to a manufacturer of our choice at a nominal fee, say one dollar per unit built.”
“Will Johnston Industries agree to such a contract, sire? Those are quite stringent terms.”
“The owners are extremely wealthy, general. And as you said, they’re well connected on New Syrtis. I’m fairly sure that rather than see such a lucrative contract potentially be assigned to someone outside her bailiwick, Duchess Hasek will do whatever is necessary to make sure production goals are met.”
The prince sat back, confident that he’d made his point. “And before you go, what’s the status of Project H?”
“The latest reports from Achernar are promising, sir. The test chassis from the original plans showed no unexpected issues and they’re now working on bringing it up to current technical specifications. Of course, it does depend on whether or not Kallon are successful in reverse-engineering the SLDF’s Code Red autocannon.”
“If they don’t there are other avenues we can follow,” Stopec growled. “The SLDF’s taken heavy losses on the few occasions the Taurians have drawn them into urban fights. We need something suited to that situation, so even aside from the morale implications of resurrecting the design, this project needs to happen.”
Zibler nodded patiently. “I’m sure they’re working as hard as they can. But it’ll still be anything up to two years before we can look at the first production, and that’s pushing the very limits of the development cycle. It usually takes decades to develop a new ‘Mech.”
“Thus the decision to start with previous designs and adapt them,” said John. “Very good, general. That’s everything for your team. Now, Eis, how does your department stand?”
The head of personnel leant forwards. “We projected that troop losses in the periphery would be about fifty percent higher than those suffered facing the Capellans,” he said sombrely. “I’m sorry to report that we’ve underestimated considerably, it’s closer to a hundred and fifty percent higher.”
If his pause was to allow for shocked remarks then he’d judged his audience well. Over Stopec’s subdued obscenity, John could hear the ripple of shock around the room.
“Despite all the replacements sent in, we’ve already had to pull some regiments out of the line and shuffle in replacements, which has caused headaches for Vanessa’s department, Gregg’s -” He nodded to Marshal Sharpe of Transport and Resupply. “- and, of course, for Marshal Green-Davion’s operational planning.”
“Duchess Hasek had some strong words for the SLDF’s Member-State Liaison,” added Vanessa Manabe. “I’m not entirely sure she was justified, but the Seventeenth Fusiliers were in a sorry state when they were pulled out. We’re giving serious thought to disbanding the regiment rather than rebuilding them.”
“If you feel that it’s the right course of action, then do it.” John picked up his stylus again. “I’ll deal with Rita Hasek. The Seventeenth have not covered themselves with glory and given the Judge Advocate’s been investigating a story about them refusing to support a SLDF brigade because the commander was a Capellan, we may have to cashier those of the senior staff who survived the debacle.”
“It’s not doing wonders for morale, sire.” Vanessa stabbed at her console. “I’d strongly recommend we consider sending in regiments of the Avalon Hussars with the next rotation, just to defuse the gossip about the brigades from the border marches being sent in because they’re expendable.”
“They’re not wrong,” Hanse counselled. “I know you planned on getting as many units blooded as possible, but if it’s undermining their solidarity then something has to be done.”
“Alright.” John shook his head. “The Fourteenth Fusiliers have already been pushed forward, haven’t they? Who can we send from the Avalon Hussars in the next few months?”
“Given they’ve just come back up to strength and they’re already in the general area, I’d almost have to recommend the First,” Green-Davion advised regretfully. “Colonel Perez has been… highly motivated to redeem himself after their losses two years ago.”
John hesitated and then nodded. “Alright, do it. And we’ll look at doing the same in the Outworlds postings a little afterwards. Adjusting both deployments at once would give away the political factors, but if we do the Concordat first it might spur the Fusiliers to a better performance.”
-
Khalsu Mountains, Logan’s Land
Perdition Union, Taurian Concordat
31 January 2766
There was nothing of any strategic value this deep in the mountain range, which was how the Taurians rebels had managed to hide their headquarters for so long.
Roseleen McGuinness would grudgingly allow that it might have taken longer to find source of the raiding parties without the analysis provided by the Feddie’s Military Intelligence. Whatever their other failings, the AFFS had clearly put serious resources into building the capacity, even at regimental level, to pull data together from dozens of different sources and build a good picture of the enemy’s actions.
That was about as far as she was prepared to give credit to the SLDF’s allies though. “Did Colonel Dixon happen to give any details of where he was engaging the so-called armour column before he went radio silent?” she asked, rhetorically.
Douglas Pardoe, located in the command van parked near the feet of her Cyclops, shook his head. “Negative, ma’am. We have a fix on where he was signalling from but it’s a good distance east of us and we don’t know which direction he moved in after that.”
“I swear, that man’s worth a brigade on his own – to the rebels!” She rolled her neck and then settled the neurohelmet back down over her head. “Are his infantry still in touch?”
“We’ve confirmed that they’re guarding the supply base at Giza,” her chief of staff confirmed. “I touched base with them and they don’t know where he is either. Given that we have to assume the First Fusiliers aren’t going to respond if Giza comes under attack, I’ve broken off one of our armoured regiments to support them.”
“Yeah, not their fault Dixon can’t find his ass with both hands. Do you think Feddie intelligence could find him? They’re pretty good at finding hostiles.”
Pardoe snorted. “It’s worth a try.”
“See if you can find out why he’s so damn aggressive, too. I swear it, it’s like the Fusiliers put something in their water.”
Rather than switch channels, McGuinness raised her ‘Mech’s arms and waved it in the air, signalling the command company to join her as they moved up behind the advancing combat teams of the 168th Jump Infantry Division.
So far they’d found three of the hidden entrances used by the rebels to enter and exit the base they’d dug into the range. Thus far, as soon as a foothold was made the Taurians had brought the tunnel down, forcing the SLDF to start again from square one – even less well off than that, in fact, since an observation team had to be left to make sure the rebels didn’t simply excavate the tunnels out again.
Still, McGuinness was satisfied that progress was being made. There was a practical limit to how far the tunnels could have been dug through the mountains, so they had an approximate radius to search and the direction of the tunnels gave at least some hints to narrow things down. Specialist geo-sonar teams were on the way so all the 168th had to do was finish winnowing out the entrances and sooner or later they’d either manage a serious penetration or the Taurians would have to choose between burying themselves alive or evacuating.
Colonel Dixon’s report of an armoured column was the only on fly in the ointment. If the column was inbound then the rebels might be about to make a fight of it and the 168th was the most under-strength of her Divisions. Alternatively, they could be sending out whatever was left of their mobile forces to another base, which would reduce the impact of reducing the Khalsu redoubt.
“If the stupid ****** would report in then I’d know what I was dealing with.”
“Sorry, ma’am, I didn’t catch that,” Pardoe said over the command channel. It was hard to tell if he’d genuinely missed it or was just being polite.
“Just talking to myself,” she said as the command company reached the rear of one of the mobile field hospitals and slowed down. They were a tempting target individually so the two groups travelling together might draw someone out. McGuinness wouldn’t have tried it if there were any injured with them but right now the last casualties had been airlifted to Giza and the medical staff were technically from a combatant arm – for some damn reason that made no sense to her, but was presumably tradition.
“I’ve heard from the intel section of the 91st Federal Mobile Infantry,” he continued. “They offered to break out some VTOL drones and try to track the First Fusiliers down, but it’s even odds the Taurians will have man-portable anti-aircraft missiles scattered around.”
“Worth a try, if nothing else it’s more data on where the rebels are trying to keep screening. Did they have any idea about the burr up Dixon’s ass?”
“The First are apparently traditionally a very aggressive regiment, General. However, Colonel Dixon’s uncle was the AFFS field commander for most of the Border War with the Capellans.”
“Um.” McGuinness hadn’t been following every detail there, that stretch of the Capellan-Suns border was the responsibility of Second Army and Fifth Army. “Didn’t they court martial the guy?”
“Not exactly, but he was relieved with cause and apparently retired following very strong suggestion that he’d spend the rest of his career counting mess kits somewhere obscure. The First Prince apparently wasn’t impressed with his vigour in prosecuting the campaign.”
“Ah, so little Dixon has something to prove. You know, just once it would be nice if the House Lords would clean up their own messes and not hand them off to the SLDF.”
“Yes sir, but then units like the First Syrtis Fusiliers would get lost forever in these mountains with no one to recover them.”
“And nothing of any value would be lost.”
.o0O0o.
Sidebar: History of the Free Worlds League
"House Marik’s expertise in warfare is unrivalled, for they are always at war with Parliament over something."
The first great alliance of the Inner Sphere, the Free Worlds League was formed in 2271 by the alliance of three expanding empires: the Marik Commonwealth, the Federation of Oriente and the Principality of Regulus. Sir George Humphreys, a Terran émigré and special envoy of President Tomas Allison of Oriente, brought the three rulers together over the course of five years and established a parliament based on relative economic might to balance their interests. Sir George’s descendants would later be appointed to rule the important province of Andurien.
The League expanded through diplomacy where possible but they also established their might in the conquest of the six-world Stewart Confederacy before Terran resurgence sent shockwaves through human space. One of these diplomatic approaches was a marriage between the Mariks and the Sian family, who then ruled an independent realm from what is now the capital of the Capellan Confederation. This union provided disastrous for the Sian-Mariks were excluded from succession to House Marik’s honours and the resentment exploded into a campaign of assassination and counter-insurgency that killed Captain-General Geraldine Marik and left her son Allan under effective house-arrest as Mikhail Marik launched brutal campaigns of reprisal. The Sian-Marik’s power was broken by the time of Mikhail’s suicide but members of the family plagued the Free Worlds League for decades, arguably preventing them from crushing the nascent Capellan Confederation.
House Marik’s prestige didn’t recover until the 2422s when they were called on to turn the tide against the Lyran Commonwealth, the League having chosen Captain-Generals from other families without success. Thereafter the Mariks retained a close grip on the office. Even the erratic Carlos Marik was unable to shake this, power usurped by his brother Brion with Parliament’s full support. Carlos fled into the Periphery and was never seen again.
Brion’s son Albert the Great, was a startling figure. A dwarf, particularly in comparison to his tall and charismatic father, Albert nonetheless proved to be a superb diplomat and businessman in his own right before succeeding Brion to the Captain-Generalcy. Victor of both the Second and Third Andurien War, Albert was remembered more for what followed: together with Ian Cameron he persuaded Terrence Liao to form an alliance of their three realms and lay the groundwork for the Star League.
Albert didn’t live to see the Reunification War, something he had opposed in favour of diplomacy. His daughter Marion led the invasion of Canopus and worked together with House Humphreys to not only conquer the periphery realm but also to conciliate it with the Star League. Regrettably later leaders were faced with new challenges – from 2667 to 2679 House Marik and House Selaj waged a private war for control of the Free Worlds League and the reign of the paranoid Elise Marik sparked a new civil war between 2729 and 2734 between the Captain-General and Parliamentary representatives spearheaded by her brother Oliver. On both occasions the Star League chose to treat these as internal disputes, with misgivings in the 27th century and distracted by the Davion’s War of Succession sixty years later.
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Nicely fleshing out the AFFS and why the 1st War went so badly for them.
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This is SOOOOOO good, i am loving it.
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Khalsu Mountains, Logan’s Land
Perdition Union, Taurian Concordat
31 January 2766
As it turned out, the drones did last long enough to pick up a trail from Colonel Dixon’s last known position but when they tried following it southwards they ran into heavy jamming that endangered their control signals.
Disgruntled that she apparently couldn’t entirely blame Dixon for dropping out of radio contact, McGuinness pulled back one of her combat teams and reinforced it with one of the armoured regiments that Fourth Army had cut loose to support her Corps. If nearly eighty ‘Mechs, seven hundred jump infantry, over a hundred tanks and a full battalion of artillery wasn’t enough to at least report in on Dixon’s alleged armoured column then the rest of the 168th would be better hunkering down and waiting for reinforcements.
Terraforming had never really taken hold up in the Khalsus and thus there only green to be found was a native moss and the olive drab of SLDF vehicles. No trees, no grass.
As they reached trail left by Dixon’s ‘Mechs McGuinness noted that the footprints of her ‘Mechs merged almost seamlessly with those left already. Only the tracks of the Marksman self-propelled guns, Magi tanks and the infantry’s APCs added something new.
As the sun dipped towards the horizon on the left, one of the ‘Mechs in the scout companies halted and lifted something from the ground in its clawed hand. “Armour shard,” the Mongoose pilot reported coolly. “Traces of dark green paint, which would match the Fusiliers’ ‘Mechs.
There were more shards along the path and McGuinness called a ten minute wait while the scouts – both ‘Mechs and dismounted jump infantry – fanned out to look for the source of whatever fire had been hitting the Fusiliers. No one mistook the pause for a chance to relax, the tanks laagered in a tight knot around her command group and the artillery, the rest of the force forming a looser perimeter beyond them.
“There were definitely hover vehicles up here,” came the report from one of the teams that had worked their way further up the slope. “And looking down from above, I can see artillery impacts – hard to tell on the ground with the bedrock. “I’d guess the tanks up here were spotting for a field battery.”
“Got a direction on where those tanks went?” asked McGuinness.
“South, ma’am.”
“Right. We’ll press on.”
The trail extended on. One ‘Mech in four used searchlights to illuminate the mountainside for the rest of the force. The debris increased in quantity – myomer strands, the arm of a Wasp. Twelve kilometres after the first shards, a Wolverine lay where it had fallen. The Fusilier markings had been almost obliterated but one shoulder still sported a nearly pristine sword and sunburst.
The cockpit, and presumably the Mechwarrior within, had been pried away. That hadn’t been the kill shot though. Peering into the ruptured torso, the distorted gauss slug was still visible in the floodlight.
“Where did the Rebels get a gauss rifle?” asked one of Mechwarriors who moved their ‘Mech up to look at the wreck. “No one outside the SLDF should have them.”
“The manufacturers might have sold some off the books,” McGuinness told him. “Or, more likely, there was an armoured regiment on Logan’s Land as part of the garrison. Their fort was over-run by the rebels in the first wave of attacks, last May. Some of their tanks could have been captured still working.”
They found evidence of that less than a kilometre later, a pair of Fury tanks smashed open by missile, autocannon and quite possibly by the armoured feet of BattleMechs crashing against their flanks. A one-armed Wasp, head reduced to wreck lay on the ground nearby.
McGuinness looked around. “A running fight,” she deduced. “First the Taurians lured them in and softened them up with artillery. Then they must have closed in with their tanks once the Feddies looked like easy prey.”
“They could still be fighting, ma’am.”
“Still as it is, I think we’d hear them. But we’ll pick up the pace.”
‘Mech after ‘Mech, tank after tank they followed the battle up the valley, jamming increasing in intensity until all communication had to be by laser tight-beam.
Then there was a roar of an explosion and the jamming cut out sharply.
“What was that?” McGuinness demanded.
“Sorry, sir.” The sideband data indicated the response was from the commander of one of the line ‘Mech companies. “We found the source of the jamming and took it out, but we misjudged how much protection was left on the tank’s fusion bottle.”
“Did you take any prisoners?”
“Negative, crew compartment was gone. It was a converted Fury chassis.”
That came to twenty heavy tanks, McGuinness thought. Add the spotting hover tanks and a battery and that was roughly a battalion. There were at least thirty wrecked ‘Mechs in the valley. Adjusting her radio she tried the Fusiliers’ frequency. “Colonel Dixon, this is Major General McGuinness. Respond with your location and condition.”
She was about to repeat the signal when Dixon’s voice came back clearly. “Good to hear from you, General. We’re at the head of a valley.” He read off a list of coordinates that McGuinness identified as perhaps a kilometre and a half ahead of her own position. “We’ve defeated an enemy heavy tank regiment and located an entrance to their base. Unfortunately they dropped the tunnel before we could make any progress down it.”
“A regiment, huh.” She checked her surroundings again. “Looks like you’re not far ahead of us, Colonel. We’ll link up shortly.”
And with a bit of luck, she thought, what’s left of your toy soldier regiment can be sent back for extended repairs outside my Corps’ area.
.o0O0o.
FSS Tancredi, Delavan Orbit
Crucis March, Federated Suns
3 April 2766
The shuttle carrying Kenneth Jones to his new command went past the occupied slips and he looked out the window to see what the Universal Air yards were working on. Among the oldest warship-capable yards of the Federated Suns, he’d visited them several times before and found that knowing what they and the newer McKenna shipyards over Kathil had in dock was good guide to what the Navy was up to.
Locked against the open framework were six Naga-class light destroyers, not ships that he’d known were in FSN use. So far as he knew, the SLDF had retired them from service decades ago, replacing them with the more modern Essex-class.
“I didn’t hear anything on New Avalon about buying in SLDF destroyers,” he noted to Admiral Moore, who sat across from him.
She looked up at him and then out of the window. “Ah. Well, it’s not above your clearance level, but they’re not ours. The SLDF needed additional escorts for their convoy work and the refit work on our own ships doesn’t really require full docking so UA are stretching themselves to handle both jobs.”
Only a few moments later, the shuttle crew advised them to strap in for the final approach. Obediently, the Commodore and the Vice Admiral made sure all their possessions were contained and fastened the five point-harnesses that held them in their seats as the shuttle went through the process of matching velocities and easing into the bay of their destination.
“Welcome aboard your new command,” Moore said as there was the sound of clamps securing them to the ship.
“Thank you, sir. It’s good to get out from behind a desk.”
She let a tight smile cross her face. “You thought you’d dropped off the command track and would be stuck pushing papers for the rest of your career?”
“Even if the court martial cleared me, that’s not the sort of black mark that usually gets forgotten, Admiral.”
“Yeah, well unofficially, you weren’t going to get another job that rubs you right up against the Army for a while longer. But you have a powerful patron.”
Jones reached up and tweaked the corner of his moustache, then saw the landing light go out and reached down to his harness. “I don’t know who that might be, honestly.”
“Don’t you?”
“No, sir. I’ve no family connections or mentors within the naval hierarchy.”
“A little higher than that. I’m told that Marshal Moscoe personally added you to the short-list to command one of the capital ships being brought out of mothballs.”
“I’ve never even met the Marshal,” Jones protested. They stood and he automatically waited for the Admiral to precede him out of the shuttle.
“It was a royal command,” she told him as she walked past.
I’m not sure how I should take that, he thought as the shuttle hatch opened.
A bosun’s whistle greeted them. “Division arriving, Tancredi arriving,” an NCO bellowed and a file of spacers crammed into the small bay snapped to attention.
“Permission to come aboard?” asked Moore as she reached the bottom of the steps down from the shuttle hatch and returned the salute.
“Permission granted.” The officer of the deck didn’t relax from his own salute until Jones had returned it as well. “Welcome aboard your flagship, Admiral Moore.”
“Thank you,” she said smoothly. “If someone can direct me to my quarters, I’ll let you get your feet under you, Kenneth.”
Jones refrained from responding to the deliberate informality. The first consequence of patronage, he thought sardonically. Everyone wants to take advantage of the connection, for good or ill. And the greater the patronage, the closer they want to be. “Of course, Admiral.”
There was a brief pause as Moore exited and Jones turned back to the officer. “I take it that my kit and that of the Admiral will be taken care of, Leftenant?”
“Yes, Commodore.” The captain gestured to the hatch. “Major Kaga is waiting for you on the bridge.”
Unlike traditional layouts, the navigational bridge of New Syrtis-class ships was amidships, aft of the flight decks. Familiar with the design from study over the last year even if he’d not served aboard one before, Jones found few surprises. Laid down two hundred years ago, the Tancredi had been mothballed on the formation of the Star League, re-commissioned for the Reunification Wars after the debacle at Tentativa and then laid up for a second time in 2651. In all that time no one had ever fired her guns in anger.
Jones thought that that made her a lucky ship. If he was fortunate then she’d keep that status for his tour of command. If he wasn’t… well, her sister-ships had performed well historically.
With the ship at rest the navigational bridge only had a skeleton crew on watch but two officers hung near the centre, gripping rails around the captain’s console as they waited for him. Both snapped crisp salutes as Jones entered.
“As you were.” Pushing off from the door he coasted across the compartment and caught himself deftly on the open shock-frame. “Commodore Plains, Major Kaga.”
“Welcome aboard, Commodore.” Weiss Plains looked entirely too young to be air boss of all six wings of fighters aboard a carrier, her snub nose and short blonde curls making her look more like one of the young pilots rather than their master under the Naval God, otherwise known as the captain of the Tancredi.
“Sir.” Major Mary Kaga, a lean brunette, nodded towards Jones’ attaché case. “Your orders, please.” The chain of command was convoluted due to carrier operations. Plains, as air boss, was on paper simply executive officer to the carrier’s commander who had joint responsibility both for the ship and for the over-sized aero-regiment she carried. Meanwhile Major Kaga was second-in-command and should anything happen to him, she would be required to take over and give orders to the air boss despite being outranked. In theory, a Light Commodore should have been assigned but the navy was as strapped for field officers as the army was.
“Naturally.” Opening the case he took the envelope, seal still visible although he’d opened it earlier, and handed it over.
Extracting the document inside, the Major unfolded it and looked it over. “All in order, sir. I relinquish command.”
“Major, I accept command.”
“Thank you, Captain.” The metaphorical cape of responsibility settled onto Jones with those words. Putting the orders away again he fastened the attaché case to the clips of his chair and gestured around the room. “Be so good as to acquaint me with our ship, starting with flight operations.”
.o0O0o.
Avalon City, New Avalon
Crucis March, Federated Suns
21 May 2766
The Director of Naval Command was the administrative head of the Star League Navy but Joan Brandt preferred to omit ‘administrative’ from that – she’d been a hard-charging fighter jock before she made the mistake of getting promoted too far up the ladder to stay in the cockpit. Closing in on her fifty-fourth birthday she probably wouldn’t pass a flight physical these days… but you never knew for sure.
John had the distinct impression that the expression on her face was the same one she’d worn for all of her more than fifty kills. “Your highness, you told the General twelve months ago that we’d see the first destroyers back from your yards in a year. Why are they still docked?”
“I told him that it would take a year to refit them. The ships didn’t even arrive until the end of June last year, so there’s just shy of six weeks for McKenna to finish closing them up. The current projection is that they’ll be done in four.”
“I have crews arriving for them in two weeks, we need those escorts now. I can’t afford to have your shipyards dragging their heels!” she barked. “The yards at Keid could have had them done two months ago.”
“If screaming at me make you feel better, Admiral, then I’m happy to help the SLDF. But keep a civil tongue in your head about my workers. I’m sure that Keid’s docks could have done the work faster, but we both know they’re tied up through to the end of next year with bigger ships anyway. By the time you cleared the docks you’d have saved maybe a month at best, and then had to do without the cruisers being built.” John rose to his feet. “I heard about the Newport News as well.”
One of the SLDF’s massive yardships, capable of docking even a battleship for vital repairs, the SLS Newport News had been rammed the previous week, immobile as it worked to repair a destroyer’s jump-drive. Although the dropship had been hit repeatedly by shots from the escort, it had still been nearly ten thousand tons of metal, moving too fast to be stopped. Neither the yardship nor the destroyer had survived, and almost none of their crews had reached lifeboats.
“We’re having to pull corvettes forward from the supply lines to give the support squadrons extra cover,” Brandt told him, calming down a little. “That’s going to leave the convoys exposed, which is exactly what those destroyers are supposed to doing.”
“Then there’s going to be a gap. It’s very unfortunate but shouting at me won’t change that.” John shook his head. “We’ll have all ten of the Naga you sent to us ready before the end of next month, which is still going to be faster than the Confederation or the Combine is managing. I don’t necessarily recommend screaming them, either.”
Brandt glared at him. “Crap rolls downhill, your highness. In my experience a little well directed anger can usually motivate people to work faster.”
“That isn’t how I run my realm or my military.”
“From what I hear, it shows in some of their performances.” The admiral pulled the soft purple cap of her dress uniform out of the pocket she’d jammed into. “But whatever method you do use, I’d appreciate it if you could see if the Carson’s are handled faster.”
“There are work crews aboard them now, getting started on anything that doesn’t require a full dock for,” John assured her. “I can’t promise an exact date yet, but they shouldn’t take longer at least. It’ll depend how much of what they did on the Nagas can be applied.”
“Maybe we should have just focused on the Nagas, then.” Brandt donned the cap. “You might beat the other yards on the first run of reconditionings only to come in third with the next one.”
“Now you see, that’s one of the motivations that I do use.” John rose and walked her to the door. “We have some of our own ships working up not far from Kathil, I’ll see if we can have them adjust their schedules to cover convoys.”
“And what do you want for that?”
“Normally I’d say nothing, since I usually feel that what’s good for the SLDF benefits me down the line. But since you’ve been such a delight to work with, ask General Kerensky to appoint someone of a suitable stature to act as a permanent liaison between my staff and his.” John gestured towards the door. “Bon voyage, Admiral Brandt.”
He closed the door behind her and leant against it for a moment before going to his desk again. “Owen, can you clear me the next fifteen minutes?”
“Of course, sire. I’ll let your wife know you’ll be a couple of minutes late to meet with the Scout troop from Arcadia.”
“I don’t pay you enough, Owen.”
“Well I wouldn’t refuse a wage hike, sire, but could it come from the black budget? I do have to work with the rest of the secretarial staff and it wouldn’t do to rub it in.”
John snorted and made a note to make sure to ask Edwina for suggestions on what Owen might appreciate as a gift. Then he made sure the intercom was off and looked over at Hanse. “I don’t know how Kerensky works with that woman.”
“She’s probably like most of the SLDF and thinks that the only reason he uses dropships is that it would make them feel inadequate if he just jumped up and down between McKenna’s Pride and planetary surfaces.”
That got a forced chuckle from the First Prince. “I’ll send him a message to make it clear that asking for a liaison isn’t really a quid pro and more to ease frictions. I can live without more meetings.”
“Sure, but you didn’t need fifteen minutes to tell me that. What do you want to get off your chest?”
He sat down heavily. “You were right.”
Hanse moved to the desk and perched on one corner. “I manage that often enough that I need to ask what you’re referring to.”
“Amaris.” John hunched forward over the desk. “We’ve tried for years but we still don’t have any evidence to pin anything on him. Now I can’t see anything we can do except kill him if we’re to save the Star League.”
“When we discussed this six years ago, you pointed out that his son might simply take over. Tadeo’s of age now, which makes him even more dangerous.”
“At this point I don’t think we’re going to be worse off.” John raised his hand and started ticking off options on his fingers. “There are basically five scenarios here. First I do nothing, in which case it seems highly probable that Amaris will take Terra and the Hegemony just as he did in your history. Second, we try and fail but it’s not traced back to me. Really we’re no worse off at that point.”
“Third, it fails and Stefan can pin it on you. Richard would believe him.”
John nodded. “Joshua completes his military service this year, he’d be ready to take over and I’d be able to show that he had no hand in it. In that case, I take the fall and abdicate. The chances of the Star League Council supporting any drastic measures against me are slim, they’d not want to set a precedent. My story would be that I blamed him for the sniper in ’62.”
“Which might even be true.”
That got a shrug from the First Prince. “If so, then fitting I use it now as an excuse.” He examined his hand, with three fingers extended and then straightened his little finger. “We succeed but it’s traced to me. Same scenario, really, except that House Amaris might try to take up Stefan’s plan. Given the snake-pit of Apollo’s court, there’s at least a reasonable chance that someone would betray the coup attempt.”
“And finally he’s dead and no one identifies you. Which has the same chance.” Hanse shook his head. “Of course, if the attempt is linked to you then it’ll be damaging to the plans we’ve been working on. I know there are contingency documents prepared so Joshua wouldn’t be coming at it cold, but we’d almost certainly be unable to influence events any further.”
“I think it’s worth the risk.” To you, Hanse, the deaths that a collapsing Star League would cause are a statistic, something from a long time ago. But these are my people. I have the responsibility to do everything in my power to protect them from that.
The 31st century man spread his hands. “It’s your decision, John. Do you have the capability?”
“We have someone on Apollo. If it’s to be done, it has to be done there. He’s a local, as far as he knows the people supporting him are a cell of the Rift Republican Army…”
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Avalon City, New Avalon
Crucis March, Federated Suns
21 July 2766
Joshua’s new office was luxurious, but it felt like a cell to him.
He’d had an office for the last six months when he commanded a company of the Fourth Davion Guards, but that was just somewhere to keep the unavoidable paperwork and for privacy when someone needed some career guidance, also known as an ass-chewing. It wasn’t where he did his real job, in other words.
After four hours of reading reports he hadn’t requested and covered matters whose relative importance he didn’t feel he could judge, he’d made his escape and started visiting subordinate offices more or less at random.
Apart from giving his bodyguards a headache – and that was something else he’d have to get used to again, the detail at NAMA had been fairly unobtrusive and with the Guards his security had rested more on being surrounded by the regiment’s personnel and being on military reservations most of the time – he at least had some more context for what his Ministry did, and more importantly how. The Ministry of Administrative Services was a catch-all for any department that didn’t fall neatly into the purview of other Ministries. As such, the various department heads had little need to actually coordinate with each other.
Joshua’s task, as he understood it, was to have an overview of any problems that arose and to sort out any conflicts his department heads ran into with their counter-parts in other ministries. That felt a little daunting, since most of them were of his father’s generation or older, but at least in general he knew who they were and was their legal equal within the bureaucracy.
That didn’t mean he was ready to go back to his office though. An overview was all very well, but he’d spoken to the officer equivalents so far. The career managers who proposed policy, presented reports and spent their time in meetings with each other. Important, certainly, but what he needed if he really wanted a feel for the nitty-gritty then he wanted the sergeant equivalents, the long-service staff who carried out the work itself.
Thus, on his second day – and giving both the staff and his bodyguard details more warning this time – Joshua Davion adopted the threadbare disguise of combing his hair the other way, wearing a cheaper suit and a security badge that claimed he was ‘JD Winters’. Rather than visiting private offices, he sat on cheap government issue chairs in open plan offices and listened discreetly as the Federation Parcel and Post Agency dealt with complaints, the Federal Prison Service updated the dossiers of both current confines and on discharged prisoners who would still be on watch-lists, and finally the Department of Transportation as they struggled to co-ordinate the immense flow of shipping across the border of the Terran Hegemony and the Federated Suns.
Grabbing a quick dinner in one of the staff canteen, which he rated as somewhere between field rations and what he could have expected in a military barracks, Joshua went back through the notes he’d taken. He frowned. No, he wasn’t imagining it. Every time the Hegemony came in in discussion, regardless of the department, the same general perspectives came out.
“Time to head back home,” he decided aloud and put his tray away, the meal only half-eaten.
That was second on the list of things he was going to change, he decided. If the AFFS could deliver better food to soldiers on their bases, why couldn’t canteens in the middle of Avalon City?
It was only a short drive up Mount Davion to reach the family residence. At least home hadn’t changed, the sprawling fantasy castle that had been claimed centuries ago as the seat of power for House Davion. It was a national icon and two dollar bank notes printed in the Suns still bore its image on the rear, a holdover from the pre-Star League currency.
“Is my father home?” he asked at the security desk, only the most obvious of the multiply redundant layers of protection around the castle.
The conservatively-suited woman behind the desk – actually a Corporal from one of the infantry regiments assigned to the Royal Court - checked her console. “He should be in the family apartments,” she advised. “Welcome home, Prince Joshua.”
“Thanks.” He was about to go further when he caught her tapping the lapel of her jacket. Why was she…? Oh! With an embarrassed grin, he removed the security badge he’d been wearing. Probably some of the people he’d been sitting in with had guessed who he was, but no one had challenged him on it. Most had probably just taken him for another incoming manager getting some orientation – it would have been disruptive for a Minister to openly visit without more warning, particularly one of the royal family. Perhaps he should keep the badge in case he needed ‘JD Winters’ again, it could come in handy.
A lift took him up to the apartments and he ditched both the jacket and waistcoat of his suit before going looking for his father. One of the lounges was locked and he knocked. No one outside his parents should be here and behind a locked door.
A moment later the door opened and he saw John Davion, similarly dressed down for a private evening. “Home is the warrior?” his father greeted him. “I hope those aren’t the trousers you wore to the office, your valet will be crushed.”
“I don’t have a valet, and I was more or less incognito today.”
“You should. Like it or not, we’ve got to maintain a proper image.” The older Davion opened the door wider and gestured for him to come in. On one of the wall screens some sort of stage performance recording had been paused. “So how was your day?”
“Well I have a better idea what I should be doing compared to two days ago.”
“Good.” John sat down and lifted the remote for the wall screen.
Joshua winced. “Is that one of those Italian operas that mother despises.”
His father grinned and shut the display down. “I don’t expect you to listen to it, just keep whatever music your age bracket like lately inside your own rooms, fair?”
“Deal. I’m not spoiling your evening, am I?”
“We haven’t exactly spent a lot of time together since you graduated, Joshua. It makes a nice change to see more of you.”
“Thanks.”
“Of course, if I’m cutting into you going out and finding some nice young woman who can provide your mother and I with grandchildren, then go forth, young man, and multiply.” John raised his hand in mocking benediction.
“Father!”
“What, you’re not thinking about it?”
“I don’t want to be another cousin, Joseph.”
“Ah.” John’s smile dropped. “Alright. I won’t press you too hard on that then. It’s harder for us, in some ways, than other people. Our lives are more public. Don’t let chances slip through your fingers.”
“I wanted to talk to you about work, actually,” Joshua told him, pushing the other topic aside. “There seemed to be something… wrong with our relations with the Terran Hegemony.”
“Oh?”
“It came up a few times today, that when our people contact their counter-parts in the Hegemony they’re not getting the same co-operation they used to take for granted. Requests are lost, or slide back and data only arrives at the last minute. Sometimes later. I don’t have any overview, but it’s costing us time and money. Hurting people’s livelihoods.”
“Yes, it is,” his father agreed.
“You know about this?” Why aren’t you doing something about it? He didn’t ask that though.
For a moment John looked much more than his forty-six years of age. “When the First Lord farts, a thousand bureaucrats crap bricks,” he answered, bluntly. “Richard Cameron may not be much of a First Lord, or much of a Director-General, but the Hegemony still takes its general policies from him and good relations with the Federated Suns are a long way down his priorities.”
“But why? Of all the states, we’re supporting him more than anyone!”
“We’re supporting the SLDF, and by extension, supporting General Kerensky. In Richard’s eyes that isn’t the same thing.”
Joshua slumped into his chair. “So for that he’s putting the entire administrative structure of the League at risk? We’re one of the Hegemony’s biggest trading partners, or at least we were. Just today I saw at least three major contracts that could collapse because of this.”
“You’re not wrong, son. But how Richard chooses to run the Hegemony is up to him, not me. I can’t make him fix these problems, all I can do – and all you can do, now – is try to cushion our corporations against the damage it’s causing.”
“There has to be a way.” He clenched his fists. “Have you talked to Bennett Green? Isn’t this exactly what the Bureau of Star League Affairs should be digging into?”
His father shook his head. “I have, yes. But if you want to do the same then by all means. Maybe you’ll find a solution I haven’t. That would certainly be a relief.”
“Thanks for the vote of confidence.”
“Chin up, it’s only your second day on the job.” John stretched his arms out above his head. “It’s a big adjustment from being in the military. There you need to be decisive, try to solve everything with one clean sweep. That’s not how bureaucracy seems to function. I found it the same twenty years ago when I was in your shoes.”
“Was it that bad then?”
“No. No, it wasn’t.” John slumped into his chair. “And that, more than anything, is how far I’ve failed as the First Prince.”
.o0O0o.
Sidebar: The Star League Defense Force
"The PERSUASIVE FORCE exercises suggested that the combined forces of three SLDF armies could potentially overcome the Hegemony’s defenses. Of course, no member of the Star League could field a force of that size, so the Hegemony was deemed entirely secure."
Founded in 2571 shortly after the Star League itself, the SLDF had a rocky beginning. All the member-states had contributed portions of their armed forces to the new service. With the exception of the Terran Hegemony, which transferred its entire regular military, these were often regiments and ships that the Lords preferred to do without. Alexander Davion, for example, selected the thirty-seven regiments he sent from the Terran March and Capellan March forces that had opposed him in the Davion Civil War, and twenty-two of the twenty-three warships he handed over were block-I Davion-class destroyers of questionable utility (the SLN refits to make use of them ultimately yielded the Whirlwind-class in 2606).
Ian Cameron originally vested leadership of the SLDF in his wife, Lady Shandra Noruff-Cameron, who was a respected military leader in her own right. Disbanding existing regiments, she merged troops together from various realms, ensuring they were posted away from their home states to avoid conflicting loyalties. In addition, a core of elite regiments drawn solely from the Terran Hegemony were established as the Royal Command, who received preferential equipment. The SLDF’s initial actions weren’t promising – seeking to support a Capellan regiment against brigands made up of ex-soldiers from the Confederation, the Twenty-Second Royal BattleMech Regiment found itself under fire from the Capellan Regulars. A year later, poor coordination hobbled SLDF divisions during large-scale exercises against House units.
It was almost fortunate that in 2573, incidents on Malagrotta and Santiago drew the SLDF out into the Periphery and into the sprawling conflict later named the Reunification War. Given outside opponents to focus upon and a war-time budget, the SLDF matured into a powerful and flexible military force. As the House militaries were cut back further in 2650, greater responsibilities were delegated to the SLDF which grew to meet them.
By the 2760s, the SLDF numbered seventy-two regular corps, fielding between four and nine divisions of forces. These were grouped into twenty armies, along with an almost equal number of independent regiments and brigades. Supporting these were twenty fleets that totalled 1500 warships with a further 750 warships operating independently or in detached squadrons or divisions. Originally each fleet was attached directly to one army but reforms had separated them, with the fleets operating in their own areas of responsibility, overlapping the military districts occupied by the armies.
Until the Edict of 2650 was overturned, the SLDF possessed more than twice the military might of all ten states combined. As a result the commanders were vetted extremely carefully. Only one Commanding General would ever break faith with their First Lord, and even General Fredasa was motivated by the good of the Star League – First Lord Jonathan Cameron was a functional paranoid, obsessed with threats he perceived in dreams – rather than any personal ambition.
-
Avalon City, New Avalon
Crucis March, Federated Suns
14 August 2766
“Your highness.” The man saluting John was wearing the uniform of the Star League Navy, but he showed no sign of Brandt’s unrelenting aggression.
“Commodore Grec. It’s good to meet you at last. General Kerensky sent me a glowing recommendation when he told me you were on the way, but your record speaks for itself.”
“You’re too kind,” the Star League officer demurred. “There’s no shortage of fine officers who could have been sent. I suspect my old friend picked me because I’d carry the most literal weight.” He slapped his uniform waist-sash, which was straining just a little more than was ideal. “I hope I’ll be some use to you, though.”
John gestured towards the couch. “You’ve a reputation for fairness, and you managed to keep a cool head when you were posted to the border between the Lyrans and the League. Given some of the conversations I’ve had with Admiral Brandt, I hope we can get a good working relationship going.”
Janos Grec took the indicated seat. “Admiral Brandt has a great deal of pressure on her at the moment,” he said diplomatically. “I can see how there might be some… unintentional friction as a result.”
“Let’s move forward then.” John sat opposite him. “Our supply and transportation department have been looking at the situation and they’ve come up with an idea to stretch convoy escorts further. It’s a little more pressure on the transports themselves, but increasing their number is easier.”
“What do they have in mind?”
“Right now there are two primary supply lines going through the Federated Suns – one through the Draconis March to the Alliance and the other through the Capellan March to get to the Taurians. Instead of that, the idea is to establish several depots in the central Crucis March, roughly equidistant between the two war zones – the existing SLDF Forts on Andalusia, Minette and Bonneau would be ideal as starting points, possibly expanding their underground facilities for additional warehousing. While shipping items from the Hegemony out to those depots would extend the total distances required, convoy escorts would only be essential for shipments from there to the frontlines.”
Grec raised an eyebrow. “You don’t think that the rebels would strike at the first leg of the supply lines?”
“It would be very hard for them to identify critical cargos being shipped due to the sheer amount of shipping that already moves between the Hegemony and the Crucis March,” John pointed out. “And contracting civilian shipping would let you move stocks of fuel, ammunition and the most commonly needed spare parts – armour plating and myomers – out of the Hegemony and still be able to adjust the flow of supplies between the two battle fronts as needed.”
“That would help but there would be some short-term disruption and with the progress we’re making, it’s not clear the fighting will last for another year. What if we end up moving millions of tons of supplies only to then just ship them back to the Hegemony?”
The First Prince shook his head sadly. “There’ll need to be a long occupation,” he predicted gloomily. “Remember, Aleksandr Sergeyevich and I had discussed moving the SLDF out to the periphery before we learned about the hidden forces being built up. If anything the insurgency will have more to fight for and just policing the battlefields to ensure they aren’t obtaining munitions and weapons from wrecked combat gear will take years.”
He saw the Commodore pick up on the use of Kerensky’s first name and patronymic, a reminder that John and the Commanding General were on close terms. “As far as I can tell, right now it’s cheaper for the SLDF to buy supplies from my factories than to ship your existing stocks from Terra, but of course the Federated Suns can’t come close to supplying your needs alone.”
Grec nodded slowly. “If you have a detailed proposal then I’d be happy to discuss it with the General and his staff. You’re probably not wrong about the logistical demands now that the existing depots in and around the warzones have been emptied.”
“I’ll have the data sent to your office today for you to look over,” John promised him. “The next thing I wanted to suggest was the SLDF’s wounded.”
The commodore’s shoulders tensed. “Is there a problem?” Something like four hundred thousand wounded soldiers were being treated at SLDF facilities in the Suns.
“They aren’t a problem at all, actually I’m hoping that they’ll help me to solve a problem. There have been some rumbles from the High Council – nothing too surprising and I don’t think it’s a widespread issue as far as my citizens are concerned but some of the nobility and the media outlets they control have been shifting the focus of their coverage a little lately.”
“How do you mean?”
“To give an example, one of the major magazines in the Capellan March put out a survey earlier in the year, something they do annually for hot-button political questions to get a feel for what their readers care about. Last year they asked if the Federated Suns should do more to support the Star League in the periphery – the result was solidly yes, by the way.”
“Good to know,” Grec interjected. “And it’s hard to deny that you’ve been doing that.”
“Thank you. But this year the same magazine asked ‘Is it fair that the Federated Suns provides ten times the support to the Star League that the Capellan Confederation does?’”
“Ten times?”
John shrugged. “I’m not sure how they reached the number, probably through some fairly creative accounting of what constitutes support. The point is though, that’s a very inflammatory question to ask. It’s hard to give any answer but no – and it impacts the way millions of readers feel about the war effort.”
“I see. How do our wounded come into it then?”
“The best way to counter this sort of thing is through good publicity. Some of the wounded are fit for light duty even if they still need regular medical care. Could you see if some of them would be willing to volunteer to make public appearances?”
“I can ask, of course. Volunteers only?”
John snorted. “With the amount of public appearances I make, I wouldn’t considered ordering someone to go through that. But if we don’t do something then the support I can give you might turn out to be contingent on horse-trading with the High Council. I may have day to day authority to run the realm as I see fit, but I’m also answerable to them.”
“And a milligram of prevention is worth a kilogram of cure,” agreed Grec. “If I could raise a matter from our end, Lycomb Technologies have raised concerns about some of their recent interactions with the AFFS and how it might impact on the upgrade programme for our Stuka heavy fighters…”
.o0O0o.
Res Publica Star Port, Apollo
Apollo Province, Rim Worlds Republic
5 November 2766
In theory the Blackshark hangers were under constant guard by some of the President’s most reliable regiments. In practise, with so many regiments despatched to the Terran Hegemony, the most that could be said of the infantry regiment stationed at the star port was that they were sincerely committed to the perquisites provided by House Amaris.
Since one of those perquisites was access to the luxury goods warehouses, Phillip Drummond was fairly sure that the squad stationed at the rear access point were keeping an eye out for their own officers more than for any serious infiltration. After all, the officers had instructions to keep pilfering within reasonable grounds – a debateable term at the best of terms – while infiltrators would have had to get past the outer perimeter.
He was careful to make enough noise that the soldiers had time to tuck bottles and injectors out of plain sight before he reached the guard post and didn’t raise an eyebrow at the cards still on the table, imperfectly covered by several patriotic or sporting magazines.
“Keeping warm?” he asked, blowing on his gloved hands. “These damn gloves aren’t thick enough for weather like this.”
“Lowest bidder, sir,” the sergeant said wisely. He looked down at his hands and then apparently thought better of what he was about to say about his own gloves. “I understand Lieutenant Cole in Baker Company has a source for some better ones, though I couldn’t say where from. Regulation cut but better insulation.” He shrugged. “Out of my salary’s reach, but for an officer.”
The lieutenant refrained from letting a cynical grin cross his face. Out of salary indeed. More likely they were from a crate somewhere on the port, one advantage of civilian fashions being to ape militaristic styles. “Thank you for the advice, sergeant. Mind if I tap your coffee supply before the next leg?”
“Ah…” Objecting was clearly out of the question but the man was evidently reluctant to hand over the flask.
Drummond reached into one pocket and showed him the top of a hip flask. “This stuff makes me feel warm but it’s not actually helping.”
The man relaxed and poured out a cup for the lieutenant. Sniffing, the younger man was amused at the scent. Good beans had gone into this, but so had some pretty expensive whiskey unless he missed his guess. Maybe even some of the Terran bottles. If this kept up there might be a pretty fierce crackdown by the Household.
Of course, they might have other concerns shortly.
“Good stuff, sergeant. Glad to see you’re looking out for your men.” He finished the cup and handed it back before leaving the little pocket of warmth and heading back outside. From the sounds behind him, the squad was busy getting back to their cards and other entertainments before he’d even closed the door – too busy to notice that he dropped out of sight at the door of the hanger not the corner.
The security lock was first class and the first time he swiped the card through it, nothing happened. That was good – an improper card should have set off alarms. Twirling it in his fingers he tried the other edge, the one with the factory default codes. There was a click and then he was into the hanger, closing the door behind him.
It was dark but not pitch-black, a few low intensity lights in the ceiling giving him rough outlines for the maintenance gear around the edges of the hanger and the elegant delta-wing of the President’s personal dropship. Tonight was the one chance he had – Stefan Amaris would be leaving in the morning on the two month journey to Terra. The ground crew had done a system by system check over the last three days which would have turned up any sabotage, but it was likely that a standard pre-flight would miss something subtle.
Making his way towards the rear of the ship, Drummond looked for something he could move. A wheeled tool cart caught his eye and he unlocked the brakes. The auxiliary engine would be too obvious so he had to rely on brute force to wheel it over to beneath the maintenance hatch that he wanted.
Scrambling up on top he slipped the hydro spanner out of his sleeve and set it against the first securing bolt. It slipped. A second attempt did the same and the young man swore under his breath. He froze at the carelessness, stood obviously atop the cart. If anyone was in earshot…
Fortunately, there was no sound to indication investigation. Relaxing at last he placed the spanner over the bolt again and wiggled it gently. Dammit. Dammit. It wasn’t fitting, it was the wrong size. Now where was he going to get another…?
Looking down at what he was standing on, Drummond snickered privately and climbed down. A moment’s comparison and he found a smaller hydro spanner in the racked tools. This one fitted and he quickly removed seven of the eight bolts. The last he only loosened, letting the panel loose without disconnecting entirely from the hull. Rotating it carefully he held it up with one hand while the other reached into the cavity behind it.
The inside of the hatch was in shadow so he had to work by touch. One, two, three… his gloved fingers found the fourth circuit board and he pulled it free. With barely more light to work with than there was inside the ship Drummond squinted at it and was relieved to see that it matched what he’d been told to expect. Dropping it on the trolley, he almost lost his grip on the cover.
Carefully, carefully, he reminded himself. The replacement circuit-board was inside his jacket. Plugging it in was the work of a moment and then he rotated the panel back into place. Only then did he realise he’d dropping the bolts on the trolley and couldn’t recover them while holding the panel.
Dammit, this is a two man job. But I’m the only one who could get in to do it.
Resecuring the bolt as tightly as he could, Drummond crouched and groped around and found two more bolts. When he straightened up he found the panel already working loose. Pressing it back in place he used the bolts to secure two more corners, then climbed down to find the other bolts.
Only four were in evidence and he’d somehow knocked the circuit board off the top of the trolley. He cursed his carelessness, for a missing bolt was the sort of thing a pre-flight walk around would definitely spot. I should have got a technician’s vest or something.
He knelt down to recover the board and registered something about the wheels of the trolley. One of them was… With a relieved sigh Drummond identified the cause of the distorted shape – the missing bolt had rolled under one of the rubber tyres. He scooped it up. Right, that should be the worst of it…
Forcing himself to work steadily and not to make a mistake by rushing, Drummond resecured the panel and then pushed the trolley back to where he’d found it. He patted his pocket, making sure he still had the circuit board he’d returned and the hydro spanner he’d brought with him. All secure!
The door would be the big risk, he thought as he opened it a crack to listen for any sounds outside. If anyone tried to use it before Blackshark One took off then they’d know the codes had reset. It wasn’t unheard of for electronic locks of this type, but it could still arouse suspicions given that Amaris paid only for the best.
There was nothing he could do about it, he decided. For his personal safety it only had to last until he got off base. He had a bag waiting for him and enough cash to get him to the next supply cache he’d set up. At the end of a convoluted escape route was a hidden shelter with six months’ rations and a stack of book-tapes. Let the initial heat pass, get plenty of healthy exercise and he’d be able to risk getting back to his RRA contact – looking like more of a body builder and maybe with a beard. Learning Greek had been on his bucket list anyway…
Thoughts of the future vanished as he heard a muffled putt-putt sound from the guard post. Was it another officer?
Forwards and he might be able to explain himself, back and he’d be properly ******. Drummond let the door close behind him and unsnapped his pistol holster.
Shadows were moving around the guard-post and he saw a small electric freight-cart parked outside. The sort of thing a technical crew might use, not powerful enough for proper military use.
Creeping closer, he saw a stack of tool kits in the rear. Nothing out of the ordinary. And on the front a security pass for the area. Two mug-shots to reflect the authorised operators and a magnetic strip that you could run a sensor across.
Oh good, a distraction. He pulled his flashlight from his belt and flashed it over the security pass, knowing the squad inside the light would take it as a warning he or another officer was in the area. Satisfied, he pushed the door open with casual confidence.
The sergeant before was still at the table, one pocket bulging as if a wad of bank-notes – for example – had been crammed hastily into it. Two men in technician’s coveralls were opposite him, clutching mugs of coffee and Drummond’s eyes narrowed sharply in suspicion – those faces weren’t the ones on the security pass.
“Evening, Lieuten -” was as far as the Sergeant got, before the nearest of the technicians burst into action.
In the split second as the table up-ended and both the technicians pulled derringers from their vests, Drummond blamed the accumulated nerves of the evening for having let them realise he’d made them. The nerves, or more likely the fact that he’d allowed himself to relax after getting out of the hanger. What, in the end, did he care what two intruders were up to? Dereliction of duty would be small change once the Republic’s security apparatus realised that Lieutenant Phillip Drummond had attempted – hopefully succeeded – the assassination of the President and his family.
All of that went through his mind but none of it affected the trained reflex that threw him backwards out of the door, tearing his automatic pistol from his holster.
A shot went past his face, close enough that Drummond was left blinking and half-stunned at the hammer-blast of air and cordite particles. His fingers tightened reflexively and his own gun barked.
He rolled then, cursing himself for being slow, too slow…
“Clear!” the sergeant shouted shrilly. “All clear! Hold him, Graves! I said, oh for god’s sake…”
There was a meaty thump.
“Useless sack,” the sergeant’s voice continued. “You okay, sir?”
Drummond blinked, lowered his pistol. “I… think so.” Then he recalled himself and raised the gun again. “What’s going on?”
“Not sure,” the older man admitted. “Don’t know why they went for you like that, but we grabbed the one you didn’t get.” He paused and then added, respectfully, “You’ve got reflexes like a cat, sir. And a steady hand to drill him square between the eyes. I never seen the like.”
Hell, I couldn’t even see him.
.o0O0o.
Six hours later, Phillip Drummond was standing with his eyes watering in front of the man he’d tried to kill. He wasn’t sure if the eye-drops were at fault for his eyes or the lights. Or possibly the simmering rage.
“I’d wait for a more formal occasion,” Stefan Amaris told him warmly, “But who knows when I’ll be back from Terra and some things should be done personally.”
“It’s an honour,” he lied.
“It’s I who’s honoured.” The fat man gripped him by the shoulders, hands shaking with emotion. “You saved my wife and our children, Captain – no, Major - Drummond! And less importantly, my own. Those RRA scum had sabotaged the dropship and if you hadn’t caught them on their way out, the first we’d have known of it was when we fell out of the sky.”
“I was in the right place at the right time. Really, the other soldiers did as much as me.”
Amaris shook his head, long moustaches flying back and forth. “No false modesty!” he insisted. “Selim will take care of seeing to your promotion, and you’re to be transferred to the Amaris Dragoons at the next opportunity. We’re in dark times and it’s men like you that give me hope for the future.”
“Stefan, let the poor Major breathe.” The First Lady of the Republic was still a striking beauty after twenty years married to her husband. “His eyes must still be paining him.”
“Oh, of course.” The President released Drummond and squinted at his eyes. “What was I thinking?”
“Please don’t concern yourself, sir.”
“Nonsense, nonsense.” Seeing an aide gesturing, Amaris looked over and seemed to pick up on some signal. “Ah, the replacement shuttle is ready to leave. I’m sorry I can’t give you more time to express my gratitude, Drummond, but apparently even a member of the Council must bow to the dictates of jump-ship scheduling.”
Taborri Amaris sniffed slightly at that idea and then stepped in to kiss Drummond drily on one cheek. It felt more to him like some shark bumping its snout against something to see if it was edible than any affection. “Thank you, Major, with all my heart,” she told him stiffly.
He bowed, hoping it hid any ambivalence on his part. “It’s my privilege to serve you, my lord and lady.”
“Ah, if I could only take you with me, but you need to see a doctor about those eyes.” Stefan jostled him again. “You know, that lout Kerensky’s family have some sort of hereditary honour for defending a Cameron, I should… Yes, yes, I’m coming.”
He bustled away and Drummond was left to stand, fists clenched as he watched the Amaris family board the shuttle that would take them to orbit and the ship pressed into service at the last minute to replace Blackshark One.
What the hell? he thought in frustration. If those men were RRA, then who is it that I’ve been working with? Are there separate cells that didn’t talk to each other? Or was one of us set up by someone else?
Something told the young officer that he’d be a long time finding out, but for now he had to turn his attention to the more pressing matter of surviving the attention he’d just drawn to himself.
.o0O0o.
Avalon City, New Avalon
Crucis March, Federated Suns
9 December 2766
“Sire, with the greatest possible respect, I wish you’d discussed this with me first.”
It would have been harsh to say that Joel Parks, Minister of Ways and Means, was the stereotypical accountant. Harsh, but with his thinning hair, horn-rimmed glasses (a fashion statement rather than a medical requirement) and plain grey suit, not entirely unfair. His expression of restrained disappointment was the most emotion John had ever seen of him.
It also made him a devastatingly effective poker player. An entire team of internal affairs was constantly scrutinising senior members of the Exchequer and given the potential impact of gambling debts, they paid particularly close attention to Parks. (It cost a depressing, if mundane on governmental scales, amount to insert agents into high level poker tournaments on a regular basis). All reports indicated that neither winning nor losing amounts coming to three or four times his annual salary had shaken his demeanour.
“I won’t say that the money you’re providing won’t be valuable, with the programmes you’ve ordered us to instate helping firms to find alternative markets and sources to the Hegemony, but I’m concerned about how you’ve obtained it.”
John nodded. “It was in the nature of a unique opportunity, Joel.” He leant back and spread his hands. “But we’re in private, please feel free to have your say now. I want your unvarnished opinion.”
“In aggregate, I think this is the largest loan the Federated Suns has taken out since Prince Alexander’s Reconstruction Bill of 2545, and that was from internal sources and understood to be a long term repayment backed by the confiscated Rostov estates.” Joel pushed his glasses up his nose. “Slightly more than half a trillion dollars, from Terran banks is an extraordinary degree of exposure that I’d find hard to justify even if it wasn’t for the nature of the securities involved.”
“I understood it to be quite ordinary to secure loans with personal property,” John said, hiding his amusement. Hanse, the lucky fellow, was snickering loudly from the couch. “Mortgages and the like.” He made a dismissive gesture. “I’ve never had one myself, but it’s a major part of the credit industry, isn’t it?”
“I’d hesitate to commit myself without seeking legal advice,” Parks responded peevishly, “But I’m not entirely convinced that what you’ve offered as collateral counts as personal property – or even your property. I don’t have access to your personal finances, of course, but I’m frankly shocked that such reputable firms would have accepted some of these terms.”
“I gather…” John leaned forwards and lowered his voice, “In confidence, you understand, that they may have over-extended themselves in other commitments and need to maximise the return on their remaining liquidity.”
Parks’ humph was severely understated. “I’m beginning to understand how someone might feel that desperate, sire. The comprehension may not be sinking in fully yet as I haven’t examined yet how the Exchequer can be expected to find the instalments on this. You understand that over the next five years we’ll need to add a total of over seven hundred and fifty billion dollars to our outgoings?”
“That’s what I’d thought, yes. Although it’s good to have confirmation, of course.”
“With tax revenue out of the Territorial States at below thirty percent of previous levels, and unlikely to recover whatever Kerensky’s able to accomplish.” Parks shook his head slightly. “There’s been an unavoidable cut in revenues received from the League and I understand the BSLA is already having to look very carefully at what it can afford to cut, which will have con-current effects on our own economy -”
John raised his hand. “Good point, please look at setting aside funds we can loan to the local office if need be. It’ll be far easier to get the money back from them in the long term than to recover from losing some of those programmes.”
Parks gave him a cool look. “I’m not given to dramatic gestures,” he said quietly. “I find myself hoping that you have something in mind to address these issues, which are only the first and most obvious to spring to mind.”
“I do,” John said confidently. “It’s not quite ready yet and I’d prefer to present it as a package to the rest of the Privy Council a little down the line… Six weeks or so from now, maybe the start of February depending on what happens over the Christmas period.”
Parks arched one eyebrow but John shook his head slightly. “I see… or rather, I look forward to seeing your plans. Are you entirely sure that this is wise?”
“With the situation we’re in at the moment, yes.” The First Prince met the Minister’s eyes steadily. “I admit it’s out of the ordinary, but right now anything else would be madness.”
“I’m told that House Davion has produced many people of remarkable talent. History supports this theorem.” Parks rose from his seat. “One hopes that you are such a talent in financial affairs. I regret to say I have found too many of my social contacts to have been similarly confident… until the time that they found themselves financially bankrupt and socially disgraced.”
-
Unity City, North America
Terra, Terran Hegemony
27 December 2766
The Boxing Day Soiree had kept Helena Cameron up late, far too late for her to be enthused about a morning event scheduled the day after. The only reason she’d refrained from cancelling it at all had been the deferred arrival of her brother’s friend this morning.
Richard had always been cruel, but for some reason he was worse around Lord Amaris. She didn’t know why it was – and on some level, she’d ceased to wonder – for the man himself didn’t seem especially given to the pettiness of her brother, but it was one of the few observations she’d shared with her sister when they could still rely upon each other.
That had changed last year, when Elizabeth came of age and could do so. Since then, Helena hadn’t heard from her sister – whether intentionally on her part or because of some action by Richard. She’d seen her yesterday, of course, but from long habit they’d avoided each other and resorted to whatever they could in order to get through the night.
The car’s mini-bar didn’t have anything Helena thought could be counted for ‘hair of the dog that bit you’ without being detected on her breath, so she’d settled for bottled water and several painkillers.
At least the cloud cover meant she didn’t have to deal with morning sun as she walked from her car up the steps of the Federated Suns embassy. Much to her surprise though, the grand hall behind the double doors wasn’t the usual bustle of bureaucrats and minor nobility wishing for an introduction or a chance to have their photo taken with her. Instead there were only a sprinkling of men and women in civilian attire but with distinctly military hair-cuts, moving purposely from room to room under dimmed lights.
“Lady Cameron, this way please.” She had to bite back a gasp at the way the man seemed to appear out the darkness.
“What’s going on?” the head of her security detail asked suspiciously, one hand inside his jacket. Only two of them had followed her inside and she was suddenly and uncomfortably aware that the door had closed behind them.
“Essentially -” And then there was a thump and the security man was on the floor, a red stain forming around his chest despite the body-armour she knew he wore. “We’re going to borrow Lady Cameron.”
Helena looked for her other guard and saw her reeling, gun out but pointed firmly at the floor due to the two rather large men pinning her between them.
“Don’t worry, Miss Helena.” The Feddie gave her a crooked smile. “She’ll be fine in ninety minutes, just a little sedative spray. Well,” he cocked his head to one side. “Let’s say that she’ll have as much chance of being fine as we have.” He took her arm and pulled her firmly forwards and deeper into the embassy.
“What’s going on?” she asked, realising that she was asking the same question that Mr Rowe had. “Why did you kill Mr Rowe?”
“In reverse order, he was one of Amaris’ men. A Krypteia member, no less. We don’t know the same about his colleague so we’ll leave her somewhere she can escape from easily. And what’s going on is a coup.”
“A coup. But… are you Feddies?”
“Yes, that’s right. You can call me Rafael.”
It was a nice name and he had a nice smile, she thought. “But why would the Feddies… The Federated Suns launch a coup? There are thousands of Rim Worlds troops loyal to my brother and millions of SLDF soldiers in the Suns…” She gasped at a thought. “Is it Kerensky?”
Rafael shook his head. “I didn’t say that we were behind the coup, and none of the Rim Worlders are loyal to your brother.” He opened a door and led her inside, releasing her to close the door. “I’m sorry I can’t give you privacy, but please change your clothes.”
The room had been an office of some kind but now it was a mess with every computer opened and parts yanked open. Cabinets had been left open and the chair upended on top of the desk. A poorly pressed set of pants and a military-style tunic hung from a hanger suspended from a chair-leg. Beneath was a rugged hiking backpack and some boots with thick socks stuffed into them.
Helena looked at Rafael, judging her chances of getting out of the room. Slim, she judged. Although he didn’t seem to be looking at her with any of unpleasant looks she’d had sometimes from her brother’s ‘friends’. He might just be hiding it, but there didn’t seem to be any better options than compliance.
As normal then.
Matter-of-factly she unbuttoned her top and made to drop it on the desk. Rafael moved, wraithlike, and took it from her hands without a word, dropping it in the metal waste bin.
When she removed her skirt she heard a slight change in his breathing. Oh. So it was like that.
But he took the skirt without comment, putting it with the top. He’d added her shoes to the little heap before he said anything. “Has a doctor seen those bruises?”
“They’re nothing serious,” Helena said reflexively as she pulled on the pants.
“I see.” There was definite weight to his words now. The man picked up a small bottle she’d not noticed before and emptied the contents into the bin, over her clothes. “Would you like to do the honours?”
“What?”
He handed her a small device, little more than a hand-grip with a button and a tube sticking out of one end. “Click the button.”
When she obeyed, sparks flew from the end of the tube.
“Light the fire and we can go,” Rafael told her.
Ah. She thrust the tip of the tube into the bin and clicked. Her clothes lit immediately. Something to do with the bottle’s contents? She recalled vaguely that clothes weren’t supposed to be easily inflammable. “What now?”
“If we’re lucky, a few years of a new life being someone other than Helena Cameron.”
That sounded terribly appealing to Helena.
“But we’ll start by talking to one of our medics. There’s a bit of walking and I don’t like the look of those bruises. What happened?”
“I fell,” she said reflexively.
“I’ll bet.”
.o0O0o.
Avalon City, New Avalon
Crucis March, Federated Suns
4 January 2767
The sound of a phone interrupted John at one of the worst possible moments.
“John!” Edwina protested as he reached for the phone.
“I’m sorry,” he said, lifting the handset. “This had better be good,” he half-snarled down the phone.
“The Minister for Intelligence, sire. She says it’s Priority Absolute.”
“God.” It was happening. It was really happening. John realised he’d more than half not-believed it. Even despite everything that had happened, despite years of thinking about it.
“Sire?”
“Put her through.”
Edwina moved up behind him on the bed. “What is it?”
He flipped the switch for speakerphone. “Minister.”
“Your highness, I apologise for the hour.”
“I assume it can’t wait for the morning then.”
“No sir. Regular daily HPG transmissions from the Terran Hegemony to stations in the Clovis Combat Region weren’t received starting from the twenty-seventh of last month. It’s taken until now for word to get to us because apparently,” and her voice grew disgusted, “No one on those stations had the authority to up the priority.”
John swung upright. “Then the Hegemony’s gone silent.”
“I’ve spoken to the New Avalon representative of the Ministry of Communications and he’s authorised top priority querying of the rest of the network, we should have confirmation from stations in the Combine and Confederation by tomorrow. Per your standing instructions for any crisis affecting the Hegemony I’ve had a preliminary report forwarded to General Kerensky’s headquarters.”
“Good.” He sighed, mind racing. Was he ready for this? Was anyone ready for this? “Francesca, in your honest opinion, what are we looking at?”
“Doctor Bancroft is our top expert on K-F physics, over at MI2. She says there’s no way this a system failure or some natural disruption. We’re definitely looking at human action – and if it was just one or two stations falling out of connection then word should have been sent indirectly. That would mean that either the Hegemony’s dropped out of the HPG network, or the Federated Suns has been cut off.”
John drummed his fingers on the bedside table. “Is that including shared worlds?”
“They’re not responding.”
“Then our soldiers are cut off.” He wasn’t exactly dressed for this but history caught you on its own schedule. “Francesca send what you have on this to all members of the Privy Council. I’ll speak to the High Command myself.”
“Sire.” The line went dead.
“John?” Edwina rested one hand on his shoulder. “What’s going on, who would cut off the HPGs?”
“It’s hard to say for sure, but the most likely explanation is that someone’s up to something in the Hegemony and they don’t want the rest of the Star League to interfere. Most probably a coup.”
“Against Richard Cameron? I know he isn’t popular, but… really?”
“It’s been tried. Ian Cameron only inherited because his brother was killed, remember?” John picked up the phone and thumbed the controls. “Get me Michael Stopec.”
“What are you going to do?”
Before he could answer, Stopec’s voice came over the phone. “John? What can I do for you?”
“Michael, I’m declaring Case Attila. The High Command is to assemble at 0900 tomorrow but I want orders out for preliminary action, right away. Can you take care of that for me?”
“Ordering the meeting or sending the orders?”
“Both.”
The Colonel grunted. “Attila. You’re sure?”
“As sure as I can be.”
“Damn. Just… damn.” It was easy to imagine the Champion shaking his head, as if trying to shake off the impact of a physical blow. “Alright. I’ll get on it.”
“Thanks, Michael.”
“God bless,” the grizzled soldier replied, even more grimly than usual. “God bless us all if you’re right.”
John ended the call and looked back at his wife. Her eyes were worried. “Attila, as in the Hun? The Scourge of God, the man who sacked Rome?”
“I think that last bit was someone else, but otherwise yes. I speculated when the Periphery Uprisings began that the only way they could ever hope to win was to neutralise the Hegemony. Attila is the contingency file for that happening.”
“That’s impossible, surely.”
He looked at her sadly and then shrugged. “It’ll take a few days to find out.”
“And if it’s true? What happens then?”
John closed his eyes. “Then Kerensky will be taking the SLDF home, and all the horrors of war we’ve seen in the Periphery will be re-enacted on the richest and most populous worlds of the Star League. The Periphery realms will be left in virtual freedom unless the other Member States decided to take a hand – which would be foolish, really. And worst of all, we might have to answer a question no one ever thought to ask when they laid out the Star League Accords.”
Edwina pulled him down to lay against her, wrapping her arms about him. “What question?”
“Can the Camerons’ still lead the League if the Hegemony’s no longer the most powerful of all the Member-States?”
.o0O0o.
Sidebar: History of the Rim Worlds Republic
"Keep your friends close and House Amaris where you can see them."
The collapse of the Terran Alliance’s interstellar domain left chaos in its wake. Many colonies were not yet self-sufficient and it would take time for trade networks to develop to support then. Some sought alliances with their more established neighbours, others put armed men on the available starships and tried to take the needed resources by force. Others did the same for different reasons. Before the rebellion, Hector Rowe had been a professor of classics at the small university on Alexandria. Changed by his experiences fighting against the Alliance, in 2244 he recruited a band of followers and commandeered a ship at gunpoint to travel to the nearby Luciana where an isolated Terran garrison was still waiting for transport home. After a surprise attack, Rowe captured the garrison, condemning them to death by torture as ‘war criminals’.
Recognising that he had rendered himself an outlaw, Rowe turned to piracy in order to amass supplies before establishing a new colony on the distant world of Apollo. Modelled on his beloved classical Greece, Rowe’s new republic didn’t shrink from slavery or brutal law enforcement. Over the next century, as the great interstellar nations rose, refugees from worlds forcibly incorporated into them fled outwards and established nearby colonies. While both Hector Rowe and his son Maxwell were in turn overthrown by their offspring, the Rim Worlds Republic was the first world in the area and cautious diplomacy persuaded their new neighbours of benefits of close working relationships and eventually of joining the Republic, particularly after Arabella Rowe moderated the more extreme of her grandfather’s legacies.
Arabella’s children Michael and Heather Durant brought the Republic back into the mainstream of the dawning Age of War. While Michael relied on bluff and trade ties to expand the Republic’s power, Heather laid the foundation of another tradition by establishing a powerful intelligence service knowing that information could be sold both for profit and to keep the nearby Lyran Commonwealth and Draconis Combine focused on each other and not the Republic. In 2459, the childless Heather Durant named a successor: her close friend and rumoured lover, Lady Terens Amaris – the Terran ambassador to the Republic.
The status of House Amaris as outsiders led to resistance and harsh measures to suppress that resistance did little to endear them to their opponents. Nonetheless the new dynasty provided strong leadership and a connection to Terra that made their neighbours hesitant to make enemies of the Republic. In 2573 the Rift Republican Army – a veteran’s association whose name predated the current Rim Worlds Army - began to openly resist House Amaris. Gregory Amaris responded by seeking closer ties with Terra and the new Star League, either unaware or careless of the strong anti-Star League sentiment upon his worlds. In 2575 workers in a ‘Mech factory went on strike and overpowered the army regiment sent to break their occupation of the factory. When regular forces defected to the strikers, Gregory Amaris retreated to his estates and asked for Star League support.
Heavily engaged in fighting the other periphery states, it took six years for the Star League to deploy a relief force and fifteen more for them to liberate the embittered Gregory Amaris and restore him to power. The Rim Worlds had learned that the Star League would support House Amaris’ tyranny over their citizens and House Amaris had learned their low position in the League’s priorities. Neither lesson would be forgotten… or forgiven.
-
Zenith Jump Point, Ozawa
Lockdale Province, Terran Hegemony
15 January 2767
They hadn’t brought dropships with them, the mission was strictly reconnaissance, so at least Jones didn’t have to deal with the problems that had arisen at Tortuga. On the other hand, Moore had decided to detach three of the onboard fighter wings to reinforce the worried garrison on Mallory’s World, which Jones wasn’t happy about.
FSS Tancredi also wasn’t the first ship to jump into the destination system – that was what her escorts were for and the two destroyers had jumped ten minutes earlier. If all was well, they would have cleared the immediate battlespace around the jump point of all threats.
Actually, he thought as the universe lurched and Commodore Plains covered her mouth with a drawstring bag, if all went well there wouldn’t be any threats.
Then the transit was over and systems that had been locked down against the side-effects began to spin up again. Plains was bent over next to her console but long routine had her petty officers working around her for the thirty seconds it took her to get her dry heaves under control. The confirmation that nothing obstructed the launch axis of the ship came in before the little blonde had finished wiping her mouth with an absorbent cloth but she nodded to the questioning look from the man next to her and the first eight fighters streaked out into space.
The jump point was cluttered with traffic, mostly civilian boomers and the dropships they were carrying. The familiar icons of FSS Arthur Davion and her sister ship FSS Katherine Davion were amidst them, under one gravity of thrust and escorted by their own fighters.
“- aware armed jumpships among the civilian vessels.” Pyotr Antonov was senior of the two destroyer commanders. “One vessel engaged and destroyed, two others using civilians as cover.”
“Understood,” Moore answered crisply. “Form on our flanks and send us as much ID material as you have, we don’t want to cause casualties among the civilian shipping. Captain, proceed with caution.”
“Aye sir.” Jones spun his chair back to Plains’ station. “Air boss we need a search pattern for two hostiles. Possible converted pre-League merchantmen, possibly heavily armed. More detailed information to follow.”
“Search pattern, aye. Red and Blue wings on dorsal and ventral patterns. Holding Silver and Copper for response.”
Jones didn’t bother with confirmation – it was her decision and it was the right one. The first two wings she referred to by their colour-coded wing-tips were in Centurion interceptors – fast and agile which made them the best for finding the targets. The next two wings, not yet launched although they’d be out soon were in heavier Lightnings loaded with heavy autocannon. Not ideal for taking on enemy shipping but this was no situation to break out the nuclear warheads in the Tancredi’s arsenal.
Checking the data from the Arthur Davion he confirmed his guess: the ships were both built on the hulls of small pre-League starships that had been designed around compact jump-cores that had since been reserved to military function. About the size of a Merchantman-class boomer, but more slender and sporting a fusion thruster that pure jumpships – most of which never went in-system from jump points – didn’t need.
“If it wasn’t so packed, they’d stand out a wolf among sheep,” he noted. “Ships like that aren’t exactly common this near to Terra.”
“Periphery raider, perhaps,” Moore speculated. “It’s armed, though. The first sighted gave the Katy a real nudge before she could fire back.”
“Yes...” Jones looked at the data and then frowned. “They only fired with capital turrets, not with secondaries. They might have been holding them back until fighters were launched, of course.” He glanced at the tactical display. “Admiral, I recommend we make headway x-20, y-75 and get clear of the civilians.”
“That could leave them clear arcs to fire on us from among the civvies,” she observed. “On the other hand, with forty fighters combing through the area they’ll have to fight or run – Barry, have you got anything from the civvies yet? A lot of contradictory talk from them,” she added to Jones “I think our targets may be transmitting bad data when we try to get facts. Make headway, let’s see if it gets a response.”
“And likely the civilians are worried that if they’re near one of them they might be targeted for talking. Or just caught in the crossfire.” Jones turned to the helm and gave the necessary instructions.
Something was said on the flag-deck and Moore spoke up again. “They’ve been here two weeks, long enough to charge their drives.”
“Then they have an alternative to standing and fighting.”
“Target one sighted,” snapped Plains. “Position data being plotted, Silver – ah, hell – Silver Wing is going after it. We lost the fighter that spotted them but the rest of the squadron is closing in to reacquire.”
“Good work, Weiss.”
Silver-white icons threaded their way through the tactical plot, racing towards the orange-haloed blue marker of the lost Centurion. Hopefully the pilot had made it out but there was little chance of that if the thirty ton fighter had taken a hit from a weapon intended for use against ship massing hundreds of thousands of tons. The blue markers were also coalescing towards the same point, hunting the killer.
“Launching Gold Wing,” the air boss announced absently. “Green Wing is on hold for rearmament.”
Jones frowned. Green Wing were interceptors, they could only carry around sixty percent the external load of the Lightning wings and had no internal ammunition bins. Then again, they might need all the punch they could muster to take out the enemy ships without using the Davion-class destroyer’s capital autocannon. “Conventional warheads?” he asked her.
Weiss shook her head, short blonde curls surrounding her face like a halo. “Rocket pods.”
Jones arched an eyebrow. Weren’t those usually used for surface strafing? “Proceed then.” Second-guessing his Air boss could wait until after the fight – by which point her decision might have been vindicated.
The enemy ship popped back up onto the display as Blue wing reacquired it, skulking behind a flotilla of egg-shaped bulk-carriers almost as large as the shark-like starship.
Copper Wing arced away from the Tancredi, moving to intercept the enemy’s course as it realised it had been sighted again and lit up its main drive, no longer coasting. Before they arrived and before the ship could build any serious speed, Plains vectored Silver Wing around the Behemoth-class dropships and the twenty fighters slashed down on their prey, racing along its length from prow to stern.
Plains straightened. “Blue Wing reports the enemy navigational bridge is out, bow armour compromised.” A blue-white flash on her display. “Confirming three capital energy turrets in the enemy stern,” she added sourly as orange flashed around one of the silver fighters and it fell out of formation, tumbling. “Two lasers, one PPC, dual mounts. Amend attack patterns to avoid the aft arc.”
Silver Wing broke away behind cover, circling towards the nose of the enemy ship. Copper had reached position though and they drove in laterally, savaging one side of the bow. In response the ship rolled over and its much heavier massive autocannon sent trails of shells chasing after the Lightnings. None of them showed damage markers, but one of the trails of fire intersected with a Star Lord-class jumpship and blew it in half without the slightest effort. Escape pods burst away from the prow section.
“New contact, same class as before,” Plains reported and Red Wing began to converge before she scattered them sharply. “Keep looking, we don’t know there are only three. Green launching, Gold move to engage.”
“Hold that,” Jones ordered quietly.
Plains amended her instruction and then looked at him. “Captain?”
“As long as Red are still sweeping the area, they may not realise they’ve been spotted. They’re headed for our rear but we’re opening the range right now. Get Green out there and both wings can engage as a concentrated strike. In the meantime, it buys us time.”
She nodded in understanding.
Silver Wing was re-engaging the other ship, abandoning the earlier high speed pass and instead matching approximate vector and velocity, relying on their higher thrust-to-weight ratio to dance evasively around the enemy prow, weapons firing each time they spun their noses past it. Like a bull stung in the nose by a picador’s blade, the enemy returned fire with autocannon and at least one particle beam. At least, since it was pulling out of the civilian ships, there was less chance of them hitting another boomer.
That didn’t mean that Silver weren’t paying a price and they were short by two more fighters before Copper bled off their own previous speed and re-joined the fight.
“Moving Green and Gold in,” Plains reported. She careted way points on the tactical display. “No over thrusting, they’ll pick it up for sure.”
Compared to the rush to engage the first target, the two squadrons seemed to crawl across the battlespace. Jones took the time to launch recovery craft, both for the wreckage of their own fighters and for the civilian escape pods.
“Captain,” Moore called out. “I think I’ve got it through the civvies heads that the enemy are too focused on us to stop them jumping. We should see…”
“Multiple K-F fields building,” one of the sensor operators reported.
“Shoot it to the Air boss,” Jones snapped. If his fighters was in the wrong place when they ships jumped they could be torn apart by the jump-field.
Green and Gold accelerated sharply, over thrusting to get away from one of the building K-F jump drives.
“Target Two is accelerating.”
“A foolish decision,” Mary Kaga noted from the Combat Information Centre. “He should have held his position and jumped out. Our fighters couldn’t risk approaching him if he was about to jump.”
There were flashes of light and the battlespace began to clear. Hopefully the civilian ships would go somewhere safe.
“Engaging Target Two,” reported Plains. On the display, all forty aerospace fighters went across the bow of the ship, spreading out as they slowed and twisted away to avoid its return fire. The little woman gripped her console. “Their forward particle beam is out – the rockets did significant damage to sensor externals. That should hurt their accuracy.”
“Sir, target one is signalling.” The comms officer tapped his ear piece.
“On speakers.”
“They’ve ceased fire,” Plains noted, shifting attention back and forth between what were effectively separate engagements.
“-sel, this is the RWS Theban Legion. I request, terms of -”
The message, but not the transmission, was cut off with the retort of a gun and a second voice spoke up. “No surrender.”
Jones spun his seat to look at Moore’s face on the feed from the flag bridge. She was looking back at him with the same forced blandness he thought he was showing.
“The signal cut off, sir.”
“It seems as if they’re not of one mind over there,” Jones said out loud.
“Yes, and a Rim Worlds ship? Some of their fleet would be stationed in the Hegemony but I don’t recall anything like these in their listed forces.”
“A secret fleet to join the Periphery’s secret army?”
It seemed possible. Jones looked at Light Commodore Plains. “Continue the engagement. There are still civilians in the region, we’ll take escape pods if they launch them but I want those ships gone.”
“Aye sir. Pulling Red, Blue and Green back for a perimeter, with the pods expended they’re not adding anything to the other wings.”
Jones nodded. The modest lasers of the Centurions’ integral armament wasn’t intended for anti-shipping strikes.
A moment later, the first of the two enemy ships lit up with explosions, compartment after compartment gutting itself as fire spread along its hull. Jones winced – something must have ruptured the hydrogen fuel storage from inside the shop and it was venting into the personnel spaces.
“We’ll need a reload for Silver and Copper before they re-engage,” Plains reported.
Jones nodded. It’s an issue with carrier doctrines, he noted to himself. Death of a thousand cuts works for extended fights but we’ll need heavier fighters or better ammunition loads if we want to take out ships with a single fighter sortie. At least without the civilians we could use nukes now.
The Katherine Davion pulled away slightly from the Tancredi and began to rotate end to end.
“Captain Riley has a firing solution now that the civilians are clear,” Moore advised. “Pull your fighters back.”
He gave Plains the nod and saw the twenty fighters open the distance from the last enemy. All twenty? Yes, they hadn’t lost a single Gold Wing Lightning so far.
The destroyer opened fire with its forward guns, raking the Rim Worlds ship with heavy autocannon fire. Video feed from the fighters showed the hull being torn open by the heavy shells and Plains all but pouted.
.o0O0o.
Avalon City, New Avalon
Crucis March, Federated Suns
23 January 2767
Francesca Reznick stood in front of the Privy Council. The first shock had passed, for the most part. Now they could confront the grim reality.
“The FSN has made contact with the garrisons we loaned to the Terran Hegemony on jointly administered worlds and seven other Hegemony worlds,” she reported. “All four worlds lost their HPG stations to sabotage and in the cases of Ozawa, New Florence and Rio, the primary jump-points were interdicted by warships of the Rim Worlds Navy. All seven Hegemony world had some degree of Rim Worlds presence either on the ground or in space.”
“Carrier divisions Tancredi and Pleiades were able to break the interdictions at Ozawa and Rio and several hundred civilian jumpships were able to escape, but we don’t have a great deal of information about what’s happening deeper inside the Hegemony and the New Florence picket managed to destroy FSS Buccaneer, with her escorts hot-loading their drives to escape.”
“Weren’t there any captured personnel?” asked Benton Hasek, representing his cousin Rita for the Ministry of the Capellan March.
“A few enlisted personnel. The most Military Intelligence has established so far is confirmation that as far as they’re aware, their ships were acting under the orders of President Stefan Amaris as part of a general operation to isolate the Terran Hegemony – and that operations commenced on the morning of the twenty-seventh of December.” Reznick folded her arms. “We know from the last information to reach us from Terra that President Amaris was scheduled to arrive the day before but bad weather kept him from landing until the evening. Whether that had an effect on his plans is hard to say.”
“What about our people on Terra?” asked Joshua quietly.
“With relations at such a low ebb quite a number of Council Aides and senior bureaucrats elected to return to the Suns for Christmas,” his father advised him. “It was intended as a low key message to Richard, but there were still hundreds of staff members and tens of thousands of tourists on Terra. Across the entire Hegemony, counting tourists, business travellers and whatnot it’s likely hundreds of thousands.”
“This is going to be a disaster.”
“Yes.” Joel Parks looked over at Bennett Green of the Bureau of Star League Affairs, invited by John to sit in on the meeting. “On many levels. Administrator Green, did the January credit transfer arrive from Terra?”
The man – Thomas Green-Davion’s maternal cousin – shook his head. “Our first sign of problems was when we didn’t get confirmation of the end of quarter tax transfers.”
Parks looked up the table to John. “That will cripple BSLA operations,” he said quietly.
“But you said that tax transfers hadn’t been sent? Can’t those be used instead of the usual funding?” asked Joshua.
“It’s a different account,” Green explained. “Until the Department of Revenue disburses the funds we can’t touch it. In fact, the banks aren’t sure if it should still be credited against the local Star League accounts or the accounts on Terra. We’re stuck in limbo.”
“Banking regulations aren’t a suicide pact,” John told them. “Joel, issue an instruction to the banks that until and unless transfers to the Hegemony have been verified they’re to assume that they transfers have failed and advise their customers as such. There must be millions of private and corporate accounts with the same problem.”
“Secondly, as of tomorrow we’ll have been out of touch with Terra for four weeks. While there’s no specific provision for this under the Accords, in an emergency even a non-quorum of the Star League Council can issue temporary directives subject to later ratification. While one member is a fairly long way from a quorum, I think this qualifies as an emergency.”
Green considered and then nodded cautiously. “Within reason, your highness, and only for temporary measures.”
“That’s acceptable. In that case I’m temporarily appointing a committee to direct Star League civil activities within the Federated Suns, handling any decisions that would normally be dealt with on Terra until contact is re-established.”
“You said the magic word,” Hanse noted. “He relaxed the minute you said committee. All bureaucrats love those.”
“I hereby appoint you as chairman, Administrator Green, and the senior representatives within the Suns of each department are also summoned to New Avalon as members.” That wouldn’t be hard, since all of them had offices here and all but one was on-world already. “Minister Davion of Administration Services will also sit on the committee as a liaison to the Federated Suns government.”
Joshua opened his mouth, possibly to protest, but John glared at him. You wanted to improve relations with the Hegemony, son. Now put your money where your mouth is.
“Your first priority is to maintain normal operations in the short term, disbursing Star League revenue as necessary to your departments. Your second priority is to have the Ministry of Communications re-establish links to the rest of the Star League Council. I realise we can’t coordinate real-time meetings without the connections through Terra, but we can vote by letter if need be.”
“Of course, your highness.” Green pushed his chair back.
John held up his hand. “Finally, you’re to draft a plan for the orderly scaling back of non-essential Star League programmes and the prioritisation of funding to the SLDF. We’re still on a wartime footing and General Kerensky has a lot of expenses that need to be paid for.”
Thomas Green-Davion leant forwards, drawing attention from his cousin. “A fight in the Hegemony would get ugly in a hurry,” he warned. “No one’s ever seriously tested the defences Lord Jonathon ordered except in simulated combat but based on exercises ten years they’d be a formidable force multiplier and we don’t even know how strong Amaris’ forces are.”
Eyes went to Reznick who nodded. “His expected deployments were around seventy-five percent of the RWA’s reported strength which would have put them on par with the one Corps of First Army still in the Hegemony. We have to assume that those numbers are under-reported though, because they’d have had to neutralised the SLDF forces and the Hegemony’s militia forces to have got this far.”
“Surprise and ruthlessness could have cut those odds,” John told her. “It’s entirely probable that many of I Corps’ and the militia’s bases were targeted with nuclear or chemical attacks in the opening stages and stragglers could be mopped up in isolated groups. If there are holdouts, as I very much hope, they’re likely to be the exceptions which managed to get an organised resistance together. Still, we have to assume that Amaris’ forces are much larger than reported. It would be consistent with the other Periphery states’ forces.”
“And they’re still in the field,” Stopec noted. “So Kerensky can’t simply withdraw from the Periphery without leaving a hostile force to his rear.”
The First Prince shook his head. “That’s also not a given. If Amaris was moving in concert with the rest of the Periphery then he should have moved much sooner. A year ago you’d have been right, but since then the other three states are probably down to only a couple divisions worth of troops each – and not as formed divisions, most of them are scattered in regiment or battalion pockets, sometimes even companies and lances fighting guerrilla-style wars.”
“This is probably more of a matter for the High Command,” Green-Davion pointed out. “Will you be making a public address?”
“At this point, yes.” John looked around the room. “I know this is going to affect all of our ministries on some level. For now, my son’s office will act as our point of contact for any matters that would usually involve the Star League. Joshua, don’t actually try to resolve all them directly, set up lines of communication between departments and the relevant members of Administrator Green’s committee.”
He rose to his feet. “The Star League was built on the premise that we could work together, which was the basis for the Federated Suns, on a slightly more local scale. What we’re facing isn’t a crisis, it’s a challenge. A challenge that we’re going to rise to.”
With forced humour, he added: “The crisis is going to be Stefan Amaris’ cleaning bill when General Kerensky has the SLDF back on Terran soil. Because that’s going to be a lot of brown pants to get stains out of.”
.o0O0o.
Avalon City, New Avalon
Crucis March, Federated Suns
6 February 2767
The holographic image of Aleksandr Kerensky stood facing John across his desk, courtesy of the HPG channels between New Avalon and New Vallis. Damage to HPGs in the Concordat had forced the Commanding General to return to his previous command post for this conversation.
“Have you received any further communication from the usurper?” he enquired coldly.
John inclined his head. Stefan Amaris had broken the silence of the Terran Hegemony on 31 January, although it had taken time for word to spread. The President of the Rim Worlds Republic had announced his removal of the ‘Cameron tyrant’ and election as the Director-General of the Terran Hegemony. By the logic that the Director-General was the First Lord of the Star League, he also proclaimed himself the leader of the League – although he apparently preferred to style himself Emperor rather than merely ‘First Lord’.
“Not since he asked me to pass on his best wishes as Emperor to all his minions. His own words, in fact.” The First Prince shrugged. “I’m not inclined to do so. I can’t see any of the Council supporting him as Director-General, much less as Emperor. Bennett Green tells me that Duke Ueno ordered him to resume normal BSLA operations, including sending tax revenue to Terra. That isn’t happening and at least in the Combine and Confederation his colleagues are taking the same position.”
Kerensky lowered his head in a fractional nod. “I’m relieved to hear that. I will need time before the SLDF can respond. All of our communications will need to be re-arranged, thousands of functions that were handled on Terra or New Earth now have to be taken care of without their facilities or records. And… the men are shocked. Angry and fearful for their families.”
“I know.” John shook his head. “HPG communications are almost choked by families trying to contact relatives in the Hegemony. Have you heard from the other Council Lords?”
“Only Liao so far. She was reserved, assured me she would not support Amaris.” The general drew himself up. “However, she said that as Amaris is a Hegemony citizen, to act against him would be to interfere in internal Hegemony affairs.”
John winced.
“Yes.” The general nodded in agreement. “Kurita has had time to reply but has not.”
“I’ve had some unconfirmed reports from my people in the Combine,” John told him. Which was even true, albeit supplemented by Hanse’s information. “The Coordinator’s health is poor, and out of all of us he’s the only one of us with close family on Terra.”
“Us?”
John shook his head. “The Council, my apologies. You’re from Moscow, so…”
“We all have our hostages to fortune,” Kerensky replied coldly. “I will do my duty, Prince Davion. And part of this is that I must ask what will you do?”
“The AFFS is on a war-footing and I’m moving troops and ships to reinforce the seven worlds we’re garrisoning already – it’s a foothold for operations in the Hegemony once you’re ready. The High Council will be voting on war against the Rim Worlds Republic and, what did you call him, the Usurper? And with Stefan Ukris Amaris in whatever capacity, as soon as I can get them assembled. In the meantime, Administrator Green is handling Star League civil affairs within the Suns and Commodore Grec has been liaising him where those touch on the SLDF.”
“Janos is a good man, but his family are on Keid.”
“Fortunately not. I invited them to New Avalon for Christmas – it didn’t seem fair for them to be separated at that time of the year. Most of your senior staff’s families though… It’s a nightmare.”
Amaris will know who they are. And I could only get a handful of MI6 teams into the Hegemony, working against the League’s own security apparatus.
Kerensky made a helpless gesture. “You understand why I need time. You’re with us then.”
“To the end of the line, Aleksandr.”
“That, at least, is good news. I will need your support almost more than your soldier. You understand that I cannot continue operations in current warzones.”
“I agree completely. It would be bad enough if it was just adding the Republic to the problem but with the Hegemony…” John shrugged. “If the other Lords wish to make an issue of it they are welcome to send their own regiments to fight the rebels.”
“No.” Kerensky’s voice was like iron. “They would not be there to restore the League’s rule but to conquer worlds for their own realms. Soon they would begin to wage war with each other over the control of prized worlds -” He broke off and snorted. “Of such wealth as remains after two years of fighting. That must not be allowed. I will negotiate a ceasefire but it will be binding on the entire Star League.”
“The irony if you wind up having to send regiments back to, for example, the Alliance to defend them from the Inner Sphere would be painful.”
“I was not fighting against the territorial states, only the secessionists,” the general insisted.
John pinched the bridge of his nose. “Alright, General. I’ll coordinate with Second Army to see what supply shortages you’ll be facing with the Hegemony unavailable. Most of it’ll probably be hardware we can’t build for you but Commodore Grec may have some idea what we can substitute. In the meanwhile, I’ll freeze all Rim Worlds assets in the Suns for confiscation and on a case-by-case apply the same principle to Hegemony assets associated with Amaris’ supporters.”
Kerensky frowned but nodded reluctantly. “We can’t let him pull resources from the rest of the League,” he agreed. “I can’t withdraw from the area until I have the ceasefire, but as soon as possible as I’ll relocate my headquarters to New Syrtis to coordinate withdrawing from the Periphery.”
“Respectfully, I suggest you depart immediately,” John counselled. “Without headquarters, much of the SLDF’s cohesion relies on you and General DeChevilier. Amaris can’t have consolidated his position yet and it may still be possible to relieve pockets of loyal troops.”
“How would we even find them?”
“Based on the reports of refugees who escaped the Rim Worlds blockade on civilian ships, some SLDF vessels are still operating in the Hegemony, presumably operating from concealed fuel and repair stations.” He grinned at Kerensky’s chagrined expression. “I may not know where they are but the fact the SLDF has such stations isn’t a very well-kept secret I’m afraid. The 568th transport flotilla has volunteered to try to establish contact – actually, I gather it’s everything Janos has been able to do to persuade them not to try to hook up with whatever ground troops they could find and try to liberate the Hegemony immediately.”
“That’s insane. Nine warships and a few transports can’t possibly contest against the forces Amaris must be able to bring to bear.”
“And that’s assuming they don’t rush headlong into one of the Space Defense Systems. Those systems could effectively have full fleets guarding them if Amaris has control of the drones – or be wide open if he doesn’t. We just can’t tell.” John spread his hands. “To come up with a strategy against Amaris, you’re going to need information – and if there are loyal troops holding out on some worlds, then we owe it to them either to evacuate them or to reinforce them.”
“Reckless, very reckless.”
“Let’s see what we can find out. I can meet you on New Syrtis in a month and by then we’ll know better what we’re dealing with.”
Kerensky considered and then nodded. “I’ll have the location data for some of the stations sent to Commodore Grec, for relay to the flotilla’s commander. In the meanwhile, we both have much to do.”
“Then let’s be about it.” John stood and bowed respectfully as the holographic image winked out.
With a sigh he looked at Hanse. “You’re sure?”
The other man nodded. “Amaris’ control of the SDS networks won’t be complete for two years and at the end of that time he’d raised something along the lines of thirty divisions of admittedly under-equipped and trained troops from the Hegemony. Press him hard, now and in places where he hasn’t focused the bulk of his attention – like the worlds scouted so far – and cracks should start to show.”
John sighed. “Should. If Brasco’s flotilla shows the same then I’ll press on but if not then I’m not risking thousands of troops by moving in without the SLDF.”
“I can’t fault you for that.”
The First Prince picked up his phone. “At least I can relieve someone’s concerns.” He tapped the control, “Owen, get me Joel Parks please.”
A moment later and the Minister of Ways and Means responded. “How can I help you, sire.”
“It occurred to me that I’m very nearly late in getting back to you about those loans I took out last year.”
“You have been very busy,” the other man conceded, “All things considered.”
“Well, conveniently all of the banks involved have made very sizeable loans to Stefan Amaris,” John advised. “Before and after his declaration last week. That’s treason, and General Kerensky has concurred with me that the assets of Amaris supporters should be frozen and confiscated. So that’s one less headache.”
Parks narrowed his eyes very slightly. “Sire, did you by any chance expect this?”
“Joel, really! If I had evidence that Stefan Amaris was plotting treason I would have shared it with General Kerensky immediately.”
“Evidence. Indeed.” The corners of Parks mouth seemed to shift slightly upwards. It might have almost been considered a smile. “Sire, do you play poker at all?”
“No, or at least not since my military days. Not really my passion.”
“Good,” the Minister said with audible relief and ended the call.
-
Saso, New Syrtis
Capellan March, Federated Suns
14 March 2767
“Amaris will expect us to return directly to the Hegemony,” Aaron DeChevilier explained from the large holo display of the Cave, the Capellan March’s command centre. John had co-opted it for this discussion. “Lord Marik remains uncooperative and the new Coordinator has so far declined to respond to messages, so the easiest route would be for all three of the current Army Groups to withdraw into the Capellan Confederation and Federated Suns, then move into Terra Firma and Lockdale provinces.”
He gestured with the control wands, arrows arcing across the Inner Sphere to show three blocky blue arrows extending across the Inner Sphere only to be halted by solid blocks of red. “For this reason we assume he’ll be prepared for such operations. At the same time, moving the SLDF directly into the attack would further play into his hands by sending depleted units into action before they’ve fully integrated replacement personnel and equipment. On the morale level, many soldiers may not be thinking clearly, as we’ve seen with the measures necessary to prevent the Thirty-Fourth Royal BattleMech Division from launching an immediate counter-attack on Epsilon Indi. The reports received make it clear the Caspar Drones in that system, they’re fortunate no transport was available for their attempt.”
“I take it that you feel returning to the Hegemony would be premature,” John asked politely.
DeChevilier cleared the map of troop movements. “I feel, Lord Davion, that returning to Terra immediately is the most important thing in the universe. But I cannot allow myself to be ruled by my heart. If we are to prosecute this war then it must be done correctly.”
He brought up new icons. “Currently we have five armies within the Inner Sphere, one in each Member State, reinforced by elements of First Army’s two remaining Corps. This should be sufficient to contain Amaris’ forces and prevent them from striking at the Member States. In addition they can support information gathering and provide logistical support to such resistance as may be operating within the Hegemony.”
“Meanwhile -” Leaving five blue blocks around the Hegemony, DeChevilier sketched two arrows that almost encircled the Inner Sphere, terminating at either edge of the Rim Worlds Republic. “- we’ll reorganise the fourteen armies operating in the Periphery into two army groups, each made up of three armies tasked for assault operations and four of the more badly depleted armies to act as a reserve and occupation force. Striking from two directions we’ll secure the Rim Worlds Republic, cutting Amaris off from his sources of equipment and personnel in the Periphery. Indeed, where possible we’ll try to take the infrastructure of the Republic intact so we can use it to help reconstitute the SLDF for operations in the Hegemony.”
“I see.” John folded his arms. “You’re looking at four to six months to position your forces and then campaigning upwards of three hundred light years with each of these army groups. For comparison, the Outworlds Alliance, which was arguably the worst battle zone of the Uprising, is smaller and more sparsely settled than the Republic and it was expected to take another full year to finish pacifying it. So assuming serious opposition, which I personally feel is unlikely but has to be the operating assumption, the SLDF could require three years, or perhaps even four, to complete operations in the Republic. That would set any serious return to the Hegemony as falling in 2772 at best.”
“That would be in line with our estimates.” DeChevilier gave John an impressed look, unaware that John had the advantage of Hanse’s hindsight and of spending several weeks working this out with his staff rather than coming in cold as most of the SLDF staff had – after all, they’d been fully engaged with wrapping up their existing campaigns.
“I hate to think how deeply Amaris will be entrenched in the Hegemony four years from now,” John said quietly. “Especially as any factories lost to him in the Republic will be far off-set by the immense military-industrial complexes of Terra and the other old Alliance Worlds. Just on a naval level, he could control quite literally half the Inner Sphere’s major shipyards.”
“Do you have an alternative proposal for how we should proceed, Lord Davion?” asked Admiral Brandt. “Or are you simply playing devil’s advocate?”
John pulled a data disc from his attaché case. “If I may take the floor, General DeChevilier?”
For the first time since his arrival, he saw something approaching a smile upon the Deputy Commanding General’s face. “I blame you for this, Admiral,” he said as he handed his control wands over.
The disc was compatible with the holo-display of course, since it was AFFS equipment. There were some slight differences in the map projected. “I don’t have detailed breakdowns of your current strengths, for obvious reasons,” John observed. “And I apologise if the change in colour confuses anyone.” His projection marked SLDF troops in olive rather than blue, while the Rim Worlds Republic and Terran Hegemony both glowed a more malefic crimson than that in DeChevilier’s briefing. There were also a smaller number of golden icons: the AFFS.
“My staff and I basically came to the same conclusions that you appear to have drawn about time taken to reconstitute and redeploy,” he advised, indicating a timestamp. “As of late summer this year, this plan would have the existing Army Group Twelve move from the Magistracy across or around the Free Worlds League to bases around Rajkot in the Bolan Pocket. General Surban’s Thirteenth Army is familiar with the area, of course.” An olive arrow marked the progress.
There were a couple of snorts. Rajkot was one of the hotspots in the Thirteenth Army’s traditional operational area, a pocket of Lyran space surrounded by the Free Worlds League and the Rim Worlds Republic.
“From there the Twelfth Army would detach and move up to Twycross where it would join Army Group Thirteen.” A smaller arrow extended from Rajkot to connect to the much larger one that circled the Draconis Combine. “While I can’t comment on Kenyon Marik’s state of mind I strongly recommend against trying to redeploy through the Combine at this time. Our understanding is that the Combine Ambassador was on Terra during the Coup, and he’s the new Coordinator’s first cousin. There’s no way to know at this point how much leverage that gives Amaris.”
“Why deplete Army Group Twelve for Thirteen?” asked Brandt. “I agree, as it happens, but I’m curious as to your reasoning.”
“Primarily it’s to make sure the Twelfth and Thirteenth Armies are in place within their old operational areas,” John told her. “Generally they’ve had good relations with the LCAF and since this plan would involve operating out of the Commonwealth, that seems important. To offset the transfer, some elements of the Twentieth Army – primarily LXVII Corps – would detach and be transferred to Army Group Twelve. Twentieth Army itself would essentially disperse to give each element of the two Army Groups a force familiar with the Rim Worlds Republic. In addition, Army Group Twelve would be responsible for securing the older core worlds of the Republic so they could face stronger opposition.”
The admiral nodded thoughtfully but said nothing. DeChevilier gave her a suspicious look.
John looked around for more questions and when there were none he advanced the display again. Now the olive arrows moved into Rim Worlds space, which slowly began to fill with olive in place of the previous crimson. “There’s a more detailed operations plan, but I think we all know that when it comes to the ground, these maps have a fairly limited relationship with actual battlefields,” he said wryly.
There were audible chuckles now, not just snorts.
“Obviously I haven’t mentioned Army Group Eleven, yet.” John indicated the mass of troops hovering on the Taurian border. “They will move towards the Terran Hegemony, with a schedule to be in position to attack into Lockdale Province at around the same time as the attacks on the Rim Worlds Republic.”
The last arrow appeared, charting this movement and John reached into the display to highlight it. “A large and obvious offensive,” he explained and then zoomed the map in. “Something to draw Amaris’ attention.”
.o0O0o.
Saso, New Syrtis
Capellan March, Federated Suns
14 March 2767
Later that day, Kerensky had withdrawn to a more select group of advisors. “We’ve all discussed your plan’s merits, Aaron,” he told his deputy. “I think we’re familiar with its strengths and weaknesses. What do you make of the Prince’s?”
“I’d like to hear from Jack first,” DeChevilier replied. “If things go wrong then he’ll be the one who has to pull IX Corps and the AFFS out of the fire.”
Two years before, Jack Lucas had been one of Tatjana Baptiste’s many, many regimental commanders, part of the 202nd BattleMech Division. When the division paid the price for poor leadership from a commander more skilled in handling a single BattleMech than almost seven hundred of them, Lucas had shone out in contrast. Roseleen McGuinness had given him command of first the brigade-sized remains of the 202nd and then the prestigious 225th Royal Mechanized Infantry Division – a position he wouldn’t normally have qualified, having been born outside of the Hegemony – to replace the dead General Delacroix.
The rapid rise had caught DeChevilier’s eye as the pressures of war forced the flaws in officer after officer to the surface. Headhunting Lucas for a vacant Corps command in Third Army, he’d personally championed the aggressive Mechwarrior to Kerensky when General Strangher’s health had finally made it impossible for the aged officer to keep up with his duties.
“I agree with Davion’s point that we still have a window of opportunity before Amaris has a solid grip on the Hegemony,” he responded bluntly. “Feddie intelligence in the Periphery was good, better than ours sometimes. If they’re telling him that the spinward fringes of Lockdale Province are still a soft target then I’ll take a chance on it.”
“But there’s something that bothers you?” asked Baptiste.
“The rest of the AFFS isn’t as good. If IX Corps runs into trouble, I don’t want them relying on Feddie regiments to back them up.”
“I see.” Kerensky nodded and then looked over at Baptiste. “You’ve had a broader view of the AFFS than Jack over the last few years. What do you think?”
“They’re inconsistent,” she said after a moment’s thought. “Some of their regiments are good and there’s some idea of operations above that level but the first regiments sent to us were probably picked for being close to the Taurians over ability.”
“We don’t have that luxury for that with this plan,” DeChevilier warned. “Could you tell by looking at his force listing if he’s assigning sandbags or competent soldiers?”
“LXII Corps should have records of AFFS exercises in ’63,” she told him. “McGuinness thought the winning side was good.”
“The others weren’t,” Jack observed. “I was there and they got rolled, hard. But yeah, some of them can fight,” he admitted grudgingly.
Kerensky nodded. “Aaron?”
“The logistics are there. In some ways it’s easier than my plan, less need to shift shipping out of the Suns. We’d need a hard stop line, thus far and no further. And to have some oversight of the forces the First Prince sends.”
“General Verschaffelt is an old friend,” Kerensky said slowly. “I consider her very able, but we have found many officers react less well to warfare of this scale than to our operations in the past. And she does not have the seniority to lead a joint operation of this nature.”
“I rather expected to stay in charge of the Army Group,” protested Aaron.
Kerensky shook his head. “I will need you in the Republic. And I must go there myself, so that means that you and Joan must trade places.”
DeChevilier and Brandt traded glances. “Can you work with the First Prince, Admiral? You seemed to have some friction previously.”
“Leave Grec as liaison,” she told him. “I don’t particularly like Davion but he’s got backbone and I’ll put up with him over most of the other lords.”
“Faint praise.”
“You said earlier, Aaron, that you felt that we should strike for Terra now, but that you refrained because your heart could not rule you.” Kerensky ran his hand back over the crown of his head. “I feel the same way. But perhaps, just perhaps, we have therefore pushed ourselves too hard to reject the idea. There would be… political advantage,” he added, disdainfully.
“You don’t mean Davion’s support?” Lucas asked.
“No. No, that I do not doubt. But the others, if they see him fighting alongside us. If they see that Amaris cannot fully guard himself…” The general straightened. “I will require assurance that the attack will be within sane limits and that the AFFS participation is not of a nature that we risk losing IX Corps. But if these are met, then I will accept his plan.”
.o0O0o.
Saso, New Syrtis
Capellan March, Federated Suns
15 March 2767
John opened the balcony door of his guest suite and stepped out to watch the sunset.
The day had been filled with settling not only Kerensky’s conditions for the tentatively designated Operation MATADOR but dozens of other matters that would be necessary for the SLDF and the Federated Suns over the next few years.
“Count Johnston looked pleased,” Hanse observed as he walked out to join John.
“He just had a more or less open-ended contract from the SLDF to buy as many Culverin gun carriers as he can build. He’s going to be richer than ever.”
“It’s not a closed system.” The redhead moved around, hair ruffling in the cold wind. Why it did that, John wasn’t sure. Possibly just because Hanse believed it should. “It doesn’t really matter how much money’s in the economy as long as it keeps moving.”
“I don’t need a lecture in basic macro-economics, Hanse.”
“Sorry.” He leant on the rail next to John. “So what do you want to talk about? Getting crews for the SLDF destroyers in the dockyards, now they can’t pull crews together from the Hegemony? That’s going to be fun.”
“I don’t want to talk about anything!” John shook his head as he realised he’d raised his voice. “Sorry.”
Hanse cocked his head and then grinned. “Sorry, force of habit. When you go somewhere private, I just tend to assume you want to talk to me without people looking at you funny. I forgot you might want some time alone.” He pushed himself back from the rail and turned around. “I’ll go follow Jack Lucas around. Interesting guy, I wonder what happened to him in… you know. Exodus fleet, I suppose.”
John glanced back and saw Hanse enter the rooms. “Wait,” he said on impulse.
The other prince turned and smiled warmly. “Sure.”
“There is something, I’m just not sure how to say it.”
“Take your time.” He leant against the door-frame, entirely at ease.
John turned back to the landscape, letting the cold New Syrtis air press his uniform tunic against his chest. “I’m not giving up,” he said at last.
“I never said you were.”
“Maybe I was wrong about Amaris. We’ll never know, but I’ll give you that.” He looked up at the sky, knowing that behind him, behind the ducal palace, the dusk was beginning to set in. When he lowered his gaze the sun’s rays stabbed out, forming something like the un-even Cameron Star in his eyes. “But the Star League’s worth saving. And if I couldn’t save Richard, maybe I can at least change the outcome of this war. Win it sooner, at less of a price. Before the last hope of pulling the Council back together has gone. It starts with the worlds we’ll target for MATADOR, but that’s just the first step.”
“A long road,” Hanse told him drily. “But I believe you. I heard you speaking to Kerensky after all. All the way to the end of the line?”
“Whatever it takes.” He hesitated. “But I’m sorry.”
“Why are you apologising to me?”
“Well, it means you’ll never exist. You or your family. There’ll be other Davions, but it won’t be the same.”
“Yeah, I kind of figured that. They existed for me, that’s good enough. And the universe is a funny old place, so it’s just as likely that they do exist somehow, somewhere. It’s no stranger than me being here in the first place. Hell, I could wake up suddenly and be back on New Avalon getting politely told off for dozing off at my desk.”
“You think that could happen?”
“Could? Sure. Will? Eh, I’m beginning to doubt.” Hanse didn’t sound too disturbed. “Almost, lord, almost twenty years ago now, I figured I’d had my days of glory and that it was time to settle down on raising my family and making sure things were ready for Melissa and I to hand them down to our children. Whatever my neighbours thought, I really had no plans to go to war again. Well, contingencies, but I wasn’t going to start one.”
“And then you woke up here.”
“And then I had to deal with an invasion out of nowhere, but after that I ended up here.” The redhead shrugged. “It’s not bad, really, being able to step back and let someone else carry the responsibility. Kind of like it might have been if Ian hadn’t died.”
John shivered. “I see.” He walked back inside and closed the balcony door.
“Had enough privacy?”
“No, it’s just freezing out there. Go indulge your man-crush on Jack Lucas.”
Hanse Davion threw his head back and laughed. “Right, right.”
John waited until Hanse was almost through the door and then confessed. “I always wanted a brother.”
The ghost paused in mid-step for just a fraction of a second, partly immersed in the door. And then he stepped forwards and out of sight.
The First Prince slumped on a couch, opened up a note computer and started refining his plans for the eight division attack – a quarter of them from the AFFS – to push the Rim Worlders back the first twenty light years on the long road to Terra.
.o0O0o.
Sidebar: Warships of the Federated Suns Navy
"I hereby christen this vessel the FSS Charles Davion. May god bless the spacers inside him – her!"
In theory, warships of the FSN were named for planets of the federation, this being deemed a politically neutral statement, or at least less divisive within the High Council than naming ships for politicians. It’s all relative, one supposes. Typically planets chosen to contribute their names are politically or historically significant, although a sufficiently charismatic or well-funded member of the High Council might sway support in the favour of their homeworld.
FSS Markesan, a Robinson-class transport, is named for the capital of the Markesan Operational Area, one of the Crucis March’s major sub-divisions and the most exposed of them to raids from the Capellan Confederation or Draconis Combine. FSS Tancredi, a New Syrtis-class carrier, is named for Tancredi IV, the capital of the Draconis March until the Davion Civil War in the early 26th century. Having seceded to the neighbouring Outworlds Alliance after the defeat of Laura Davion’s Draconis March-centred faction in 2533, Tancredi IV was ceded back to the Federated Suns in a secret ‘arms for worlds’ treaty in 2581.
Davion-class destroyers are one exception to the usual traditions of ship-naming, each ship honouring prominent members of House Davion. This list is not limited to the leaders of the family: FSS Katherine Davion is named for Doctor Katherine Anne Davion (2208-2242), one of the four members of the Davion family who first settled on New Avalon in 2232; and FSS Arthur Davion is named for Major Arthur Davion (2410-2447), a minor military hero and the son of Edward Davion, the last President of the Federated Suns.
The Defender-class battlecruisers predate the system of naming ships for planets and a considerable number of the current FSN’s warships were transferred from SLDF mothballs at the time of the Reunification War. Attempts to rename these ships in line with common practises were fiercely rejected by the FSN, who abide by ancient tradition that once a ship has been named it is unlucky to rename her.
-
*snip*
He rose to his feet. “The Star League was built on the premise that we could work together, which was the basis for the Federated Suns, on a slightly more local scale. What we’re facing isn’t a crisis, it’s a challenge. A challenge that we’re going to rise to.”
*snip*
Now THAT is how you motivate bureaucrats! 8)
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Excellent writing. Keep it up, I have always wondered how an alternate universe might be like if one of the Houses had actually thrown their full weight in with the SLDF. Maybe if the Star League falls apart, Kerensky might throw in with the House that actually helped him fully or even if he does the Exodus more troops side with that house over the others.
Plus it helps to have some hindsight thru good old Hanse Davion to guide John Davion.
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things are getting even more excited, there were after all plenty of systems with no drones in space or even a full SDS. these they should be able to take without to much dificulty. the others with risistance, such as the SLDF HQ on New Earth held out for months i belive as well as severall other facilities and planets. I think the Davion special forces are what will get the cordinators family safe to get them into the war and if anything the AFFS will get tons of experience and be seasoned troops second only to the SLDF. They will be fighting with them for a long time after all and SLDF stuff will rub off on them in a good way I think. The butchers bill will still be high as hell but in the end will be worth it. Hell the SLDF will probably push huge ammounts of cash and tech into feddie factories to help support them. Davion is so far the only house that is going 100% support to the SLDF after all. Hope the prephery nations get a official seat at the high councel and become full memburs with all the assocciated benifits. that will stop the rebellion and all that and will make them much happyier to boot. ..... yea... please do not hate my bad spelling XD [blank]
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Great to see you writing again, Drakensis.
This reminds me of your old stories well thought out and an excellent job of writing.
Hope you keep it up. O0
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I want to say Bravo and well done
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Definitely enjoying it -- and I admit, had someone just told me the premise of the whole thing I would've told them they're mad to think I'd like it, but I'm really enjoying this.
I will say this last posting seemed to be a bit rushed; there's a few more formatting/editing issues than there were previously, and given how well-done everything has been so far, it sort of jumped out at me, like gristly bits in an otherwise tasty hamburger. Still, that's nothing that couldn't be solved with a proofreading sweep.
Well done and I'm looking forward to seeing what's next.
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Nicely done, as usual. Thanks!
Was Theban Legion a Nightwing?
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Noticed this fic in SB and today it dawned me that it's most likely posted here as well. Really a joy to read.
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Nicely done, as usual. Thanks!
Was Theban Legion a Nightwing?
Yes, it was.
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Thank you!
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The Star League Council, 2767
The Star League Council - sometimes the High Council - is the supreme ruling body of the Star League. While the First Lord wields some executive authority, he cannot overule a majority decision of the Council. He is only first amongst equals, able to break ties but otherwise his vote counts for more than that of the other Lords. The right to the role was invested in House Cameron by the original membership during the negotiation of the Star League Accords.
The lords of the six member-states hold voting seats upon the Council and always have. After the Reunification War, the Bureau of Star League Administration appointed four Periphery Administrators, one for each of the four conquered territorial states. These Administrators were seated upon the Council but never granted the right to vote. This was the only representation permitted to the periphery for more than a century. In 2722 the administrators were removed and the lords of the four states replaced them, though with no more power - they may speak but not vote in the decisions of the Council.
Stefan Amaris
President of the Rim Worlds Republic
Born 2717, Reigned 2738-
Stefan is the only child of the middle-aged Cynthia Amaris, who was terrified that her heir might prove unfit to lead the Republic. She therefore began training her son effectively from birth in the skills she felt Stefan would need - he was said to be a liar and a manipulator before he left the nursery. Certainly he was intelligence and curiously, relentlessly studying any question he felt he lacked a satisfactory answer for. Even before his mother's death, the young Stefan became a power player within her court, making backroom deals to begin assembling the arsenal that the Edict of 2650 denied to the Republic.
One assumes that Cynthia was proud for as soon as he succeeded her, Amaris broadened his plans and staged deniable raids into both the Draconis Combine and Lyran Commonwealth, using each other's colours. This fanned the flames of the conflict between the pair - furthering the schisms forming in the Star League Council. Within the Inner Sphere he played the buffoon in public and secretly began to establish ties within the Terran Hegemony.
Following the death of Simon Cameron, these ties included the young Richard Cameron. Stefan studied the young First Lord and unleashed his prodigous charm to win over and mould the child. It would have been entirely within Stefan's ability to rule by proxy through Richard but this did not interest him. Indoctrinated from his youth with a history of slights by the Camerons against House Amaris, the lord of the Rim Worlds Republic gambled everything to supplant Richard.
Allyce Avellar
President of the Outworlds Alliance
Born 2732, Reigned 2765-
The daughter of Beatrice Avellar's son Lukas who died in 2745. Allyce and her brother Simpson had grown up in the household of the strong-willed grandmother. Allyce was heavily invested in the cultural and social agencies Beatrice had established, activities that suited her artistic temprement. She entirely missed their use as cover for guerilla operations as Beatrice deeply resented the exploitation of her people by Inner Sphere corporations and proved receptive to Amaris' approach.
When Beatrice died in 2765, Allyce felt it was her duty to her beloved grandmother to take over her duties to the Outworlds Alliance - despite having little to no grasp on the actual policies being followed. Simpson Avellar might have been better suited by temprement to lead the Alliance and he'd very much been in Beatrice's confidence as to the Secret Army. However, he was too much a leader in the warrior aristocracy mold of the Inner Sphere and the peace-loving Allyce, much less forceful in her moralism than her grandmother, received widespread public support.
As such, as the Periphery exploded in revolt, the distinction between the secessionists - effectively under the command of Simpson - and the official government under Allyce was genuine, unlike the Magistracy and the Concordat where the difference was a thin legal fiction. This may have contributed to the savagery of the campaigns in the Alliance, something that horrified the President and throughout her short reign so far, Allyce Avellar has campaigned vigorously but without success for an end to the violence.
Nicoletta Calderon
Protector of the Taurian Concordat
Born 2707, Reigned 2725-
Nicoletta Calderon took office at an early age with her grandfather retiring as soon as she met the minimum age requirements. The previous heir, Nicoletta's uncle, had been murdered and despite occasional mutterings there was no evidence linking her to the conspiracy responsible. Gregarious and popular, Nicoletta spoke up for the Periphery during the chaotic period as the BSLA representatives yielded their places on the Council to the lords of the four territorial states. Politically she was very close to Beatrice Avellar, who had similarly assumed office at a young age two decades before.
This political ties didn't benefit the Concordat as much as might be hoped as the Outworlds Alliance wasn't sufficiently industrialised to help counter the economic exploitation. Nicoletta therefore looked for other allies but found both Vanura Centralla and Stefan Amaris to be supine in the face of the Star League's member-states. In the 2750s, Nicoletta found a potential ally in Vanura's heir Janina and cultivated the future Magestrix assidiously. Her real surpise though was tentative offers from Stefan Amaris that concluded in a secret pact in 2754. Nicoletta was without question behind the Taurian Freedom Army that stirred up trouble to draw the Star League into the periphery and proclaimed the seccession of several Taurian worlds from the Star League to be an 'internal matter' despite the fact that they remained part of the Concordat.
As core Taurian worlds were secured by the SLDF it seemed only a matter of time before evidence was uncovered that Kerensky would use to indict Nicoletta as a traitor to the Star League. Only the sudden revelation of the Amaris Coup prevented this but what could have been Nicoletta's victory turned to ashes for her as Amaris made it clear that he would readily make peace with Kerensky and support the crushing of the other territorial states in order to keep his power on Terra. Having believed herself Amaris' partner, Calderon had in truth been just another pawn.
Janina Centralla
Magestrix of the Magistracy of Canopus
Born 2723, Reigned 2760-
The Star League Council experienced rapid turnover in the 2760s with three members passing away in 2760 alone. Vanura Centralla's death opened the way to her daughter Janina and brought a rapid change to the political stance of the Magistracy. Long the most favourably inclined towards the Star League of the Territorial States, whatever House Amaris claimed, the Magistracy had been left open to economic exploitation by a succession of changes since 2722.
Unlike her mother, Janina took a strong stance against this and formly aligned herself with the seccessionist movements and accepted military aid from the Rim Worlds Republic. Under her governance, co-operation between Magistracy Armed Forces and the SLDF was terminated and she actively bolstered her forces with mercenaries. Having been considerably more discreet than some of her peers, she avoided being identified as one of the principal ringleaders of the Periphery Uprising until events were well underway, although her involvement on some levels was never really in doubt.
John Davion
First Price of the Federated Suns
Born 2719, Reigned 2745-
John Davion rose in his lifetime from fourth in succession to the throne of the First Prince without any ambition on his part - his father and grandfather died in battle, his cousin in an accident the younger Davion had no way of arranging. Richard Davion appointed John his heir only a few years before his own death and the young prince threw himself into preparing to serve the Federated Suns, completing his military service and studying the administration of the realm.
Once he became First Prince, John prioritised the Suns over the Star League, doubting the organisation that had failed to save his father and grandfather. Where political dealings couldn't convince him otherwise - although he made his name as a honest and evenhanded leader - Simon Cameron won his support when he appealed directly the people of the Star League... alas, Cameron died almost immediately after this in a tragic accident.
Balancing the interest of the Federated Suns and the Star League has proven a narrow path to follow. Davion has consistently supported Aleksandr Kerensky, nominating him as regent and placing the AFFS in harm's way to support him. However, he also launched an invasion of the Capellan Confederation, further destablising the regency period. This middle road has left John as a key vote in the High Council, but also left him without allies... a dangerous position for the Federated Suns.
Takiro Kurita
Coordinator of the Draconis Combine
Born 2646, Reigned 2691-2767, Died 2767
The firstborn child of Coordinator Urizen Kurita, Takiro was designated as heir to the Combine despite the concerns of some courtiers that he lacked the fire to lead. Raised in the samurai traditions that had been re-instated by his immediate predecessors, Takiro rose to the role, impressing the Combine with his sense of honour and balance of the spiritual and martial aspects of their culture. When Urizen stepped down in favour of his son, the First Hidden War had been ongoing for years. With the DCMS downsized by the Edict of 2650, newly independent mechwarriors had begun challenging SLDF mechwarriors to deadly duels.
At first the Combine's success had shocked the SLDF but Takiro saw the increasing success of the Gunslingers of the SLDF and ensured that revisions and improvements were made to the training of the DCMS in anticipation of continued struggles.This preparation served the Combine well between 2725 and 2730 when they were freed to champion the children of Takiro's brother Soto in their claim upon the Federated Suns. While the fighting wasn't entirely in their favour, Takiro saw his loyal samurai drive deep into the territory of their traditional foe, only halted when the SLDF finally unleashed overwhelming power.
While relations between the two states remained poor, Takiro Kurita was impressed by the rise of John Davion, finding his new peer similarly practical and concientious - a worthy rival and sometimes ally as both men had concerns about the rising tensions in the Periphery and recognised that previous decisions of the Star League Council had led to the problem.
Minoru Kurita
Coordinator of the Draconis Combine
Born 2705, Reigned 2767-
Takiro Kurita had raised his only son to succeed him but passed on at an unfavourable time. His great-nephew Drago and his family, the senior branch of Soto Kurita's descendants, were on Terra during the coup and Amaris seized them as leverage. The elderly Takiro collapsed upon learning this and died a week later. His last instructions were that Minoru should seek a diplomatic solution, a request his son swore to obey.
Unlike his father, Minoru had grown up with the Star League in visible decline and he'd seen action in the War of Davion Succession. As a result he had first hand experience of the AFFS' failings at the time and lost friends and comrades as the SLDF smothered the offensive. Possessed of a more belligent temprement than Takiro, the new Coordinator presents a civil face to the universe over strong convictions of Combine superiority. When he wasn't deputising for his father on Terra or Luthien, Minoru was active in expanding the DCMS strength - a process which began well before the Edict of 2650 removed the formal barriers that had chafed for more than a century. The sudden coup may have surprised Minoru but it validated many of his beliefs. Only his oath to Takiro restrains him from action... and when he does act it will be to the benefit of the Combine, not the Star League.
Barbara Liao
Chancellor of the Capellan Confederation
Born 2731, Reigned 2760-
Warex Liao had built up the Capellan Confderation Armed Forces rapidly since 2753 but when he died seven years later they remained weaker than their rivals in the Free Worlds League and Federated Suns. The last thing that the new Chancellor needed on her ascession was a military crisis but the nuclear attack on Demeter forced her hand for she could not afford to begin her reign by backing down. Less militant than her father, she nonetheless blocked Star League interference.
For almost two years the Capellans held their own on the relatively limited front that the Federated Suns had invaded on. Neither side was willing to risk widening the conflict - the Capellans fearing greater AFFS numbers could swarm their borders. Instead both sides focused their forces on only three worlds - a deadlock that lasted until John Davion took direct command. Only the ascession of Richard Cameron avoided disaster and the new First Lord judged the invasion illegal, forcing Davion to withdraw.
Barbara has struggled to balance strengthening the military further against potentially creating an internal threat to her rule. John Davion's decision to commit forces to assist the SLDF keeps him active as a threat in Capellan eyes, while the change in Captain-General in 2763 raised the possibility of improved relations with the Free Worlds League.
Kenyon Marik
Captain-General of the Free Worlds League
Born 2734, Reigned 2763-
Ewan Marik conceived his only child during a drunken flung while on leave. While he married Kenyon's mother to legitimise the child, he immediately exiled the woman after the birth. The young Kenyon proved to be an intellectual prodigy, much unlike his brutish father. Enrolled into mechwarrior training at the age of thirteen, Kenyon was at first out of his depth and after a blunder in 2749, his father brutally brutally beat him. Hospitalised, Kenyon began quietly courting his father's political enemies.
Rather than serve in the FWLM, Kenyon entered the SLDF and enjoyed a brief but meteoric career, serving on Kerensky's staff in 2756. Responding to a civilian protest on Pollux with lethal force, the young Marik showed himself to be his father's heir. The unrepentant Kenyon declared that an 'upstart Russian peasant' wouldn't dare to punish the heir to a Council seat and was proved wrong when Kerensky cashiered him without hesitation.
Despite his discharge from the SLDF, Kenyon has excellent credentials as a military mind and has proven similarly adept at politics. Ewan's death in 2763 conveniently avoided any need for a damaging confrontation and the young Captain took the reigns of power smoothly and without incident. While the change in Captain-General has smoothed over some tensions on the Star League Council, Kenyon's continued hatred for General Kerensky has created new fault-lines.
Robert Steiner
Archon of the Lyran Commonwealth
Born 2701, Reigned 2760-
Robert's father Michael had never expected to become Archon, content to live the life of a junior officer in the Lyran Commonwealth on detached duty to the Nagelring and the University of Tharkad where he'd received a research fellowship. In contrast, Robert's mother Joan was a Lestrade - duchess of Summer and holding joint citizenship in the Hegemony. A dynamic businesswoman and diplomat, Duchess Joan was the dominant figure of Robert's childhood and the alienation from his father grew as Michael poured his paternal interest into a young Terran student a year older than Robert, and Robert's twin siblings born almost a quarter century after him.
In 2729 all of this changed with the sudden and accidental death of Archon Jonathon Steiner. Michael Steiner became the Commonwealth's leader as the Star League struggled with the First Lord's mental illness and the after-effects of the Davion Civil War where Michael's protege Aleksandr Kerensky won glory. Despite becoming heir, Robert remained sidelined - the new Archon was heavily focused on military affairs and left it to his wife to prepare Robert for office.
A further three decades of estrangement followed with Robert focused on building alliances to the aristocratic families of the Commonwealth as his father squabbled with Ewan Marik. Joan's death in 2752 effectively cut the last tie between Archon and heir. Never seeking a military career of his own, Robert left this to his younger brother Paul, just as he neglected relations with the Lyran populace themselves, except through the Estates General who he cultivated heavily during the last few years before Michael's death.
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Book 2
Loyalist
An unforgivable tragedy
The answer isn't' where you think you'd find it
Prepare yourself for the reckoning
For when your world seems to crumble again
Don't be afraid, don't turn away
You’re the one who can redefine it
Don't let hope become a memory
Let the shadow permeate your mind and
Reveal the thoughts that were tucked away
So that the door can be opened again
Within your darkest memories
Lies the answer if you dare to find it
Don't let hope become a memory
When you think all is forsaken
Listen to me now (all is not forsaken)
You need never feel broken again
Sometimes darkness can show you the light
The Light, Disturbed
Nagumo, Ozawa
Lockdale Province, Terran Hegemony
11 August 2767
The drop port was a smaller field rather than one of main facilities that handled freight and public transportation for the planet. Those facilities would be very useful for unloading the military equipment and supplies currently in orbit. For that reason the Rim Worlds garrison had defended the ports by shelling them with a mix of high explosive and artillery-deployable anti-tank mines. Engineers would have to finish securing the latter before the damage to the former could be made good.
As a result, the Fury dropship set down on a single relatively small runway and pulled up a little harder than the pilot seemed to have expected. The escorts wouldn’t be setting down here to rotate, a second landing field had had to be set aside and guarded for that purpose.
The massive security presence made it no great secret who was arriving, but at least they didn’t have a brass band, John thought. A small convoy of olive-painted APCs rushed out to the Fury and were joined by two identical units that exited the dropship’s vehicle ramp.
After a complicated little dance on the ferrocrete, the personnel carriers broken into groups and departed in several directions, one of which was the bunker complex that supplemented the original hangers and control tower. Elements of one of IX Corps’ engineering battalions had assembled it in the last seventy-two hours. John had pulled a platoon from one of his own battalions and had them watch, issuing a single one word order: “Learn.”
For all their newness, the conference facilities were perfectly functional. The First Prince rose from the table and greeted Joan Brandt with a gentlemanly bow. “Welcome to Ozawa.”
“Yes, wasn’t your plan to have the planet secured by now?” she said without ceremony.
“The plan was to push as far as this or until we ran into opposition we couldn’t confidently defeat without the main force under your command.” He offered her a chair and then re-joined Janos Grec, who now sported a Vice Admiral’s rank badges, and General Verschaffelt, whose arm was in a sling. “We’ve reached that point, so we stopped and waited. That’s as near as you can reasonably get to being on plan once you consider that Amaris’ forces have a plan too.”
Brandt shook her head. “And who took a shot at you, General?” she asked.
“No one,” the commander of IX Corps replied. “The jeep I was in yesterday hit a pot-hole and over-turned.”
“Could have been worse then.”
“Most of my men would agree,” Verschaffelt told her. “I think they have a new appreciation for how bad the fighting was in the Periphery.”
Brandt shrugged. “You’ve liberated seven planets from Amaris, well four and three halves. Given you managed that with eight divisions, it’s not all that bad.”
Grec cleared his throat. “It was going rather well until the attempt to take Rio’s Castle Brian. The entire division involved has had to be pulled back due to casualties. That’s why we haven’t pushed at the fortifications.”
Castles Brian were from the previous round of grandiose defensive works built for the Hegemony. The massive underground fortifications were intended to allow an outnumbered garrison to hold out and harass the invaders until a relief force arrived. Updated regularly over the centuries since Brian Cameron had commissioned them and given them his name, the six that had been encountered so far were performing the task superbly.
The problem was, due to Richard Cameron’s blind trust of Stefan Amaris, the men defending the Castles Brian were the invaders.
“There are fortresses like this in the Periphery,” John added. “As far as I know, not one of them was taken during the Uprisings.”
“Not the Uprisings, no. There are four in the Rim Worlds Republic though and they’ve been in their hands for ten years now. Damn Dick Cameron,” Verschaffelt said angrily. “The General will have this to deal with out there as well.”
“We can’t change what’s happened already,” John reminded her. “What we need to focus on now is arranging a smooth handover between your troops and Admiral Brandt’s Army Group.” It sounded odd to him to have an Admiral in command of ground troops, but there was little permanent structure in the SLDF for field command above the level of an Army – the five regional ‘Army Groups’ had been administrative in nature.
To be fair, until the entire Periphery had gone up in flames, there hadn’t been any situations that had called for more than one Army. Any one of the twenty field Armies would have been enough, combined with the attached fleet elements, to seriously threaten one of the House Militaries. On the few occasions when such was attempted, like the PERSUASIVE FORCE exercises of 2757, the Commanding General had taken charge directly.
Faced with three such challenges at once, Commanding General Aleksandr Kerensky had taken direct command of the Armies fighting in the Taurian Concordat, deferred operations in the Outworlds Alliance to his Deputy, Aaron DeChevilier, and finally selected the Director of the Star League Navy to take operational command of the army group fighting in the Magistracy of Canopus.
Responding to the shift of focus away from the three breakaway territorial states had been complicated enough without making major changes so at least for now the Army Groups would retain the same basic composition, only the commanders and their personal staffs switched between them to allow for their specific capabilities to be best used.
“We’ll need her if the Rim Worlds fleet come out to hit our support,” Hanse noted. “But it feels strange to have an admiral telling the army what to do.”
It should feel strange for you to be here and talking without them noticing, John thought. But I guess you can get used to anything.
“In the absence of major space ports, General Lucas will probably need to use combat landing procedures to get his troops down,” Brandt decided. “Not all of his transports are rated for that so we’ll be sending troops in based more on what they’re loaded aboard than any sort of sensible troop deployments. At least some of the space ports survived the fighting on other worlds.”
“The important thing is to get his forces in to secure our grip,” John told the Admiral. “From what you sent ahead, there’s going to be quite a lot of reorganisation going on anyway before we press further.”
“Do your spies expect a counter-attack?” she asked him.
“With the way Amaris has clamped down on HPG traffic since May, most of our agents are cut off,” John answered. He’d been surprised to learn that the SLDF held his intelligence personnel in high regard. From what Hanse had told him about their failures in the other timeline, they had not performed well in this era but it seemed that the reforms he’d made on the ghost’s recommendations had changed perceptions. To be fair, it was probably also a factor that with a good idea of what challenges they’d face had allowed him to focus resources in the key areas, as well as point investigations in the right direction.
“The hidden fleet reported a force of thirty warships being massed at Al Na’ir, so I think he was considering such an attack but between our stopping our advance and your arrival they haven’t seemed to leave the system. It’s possible it was a demonstration of strength for the Combine -” Al Na’ir was a significant naval stronghold on the Hegemony’s border with House Kurita and it boasted a Space Defense System of ground bases and drone warships that made it an extremely secure base of operations. “- or more probably the information of your arrival preceded you and Amaris decided not to risk having his fleet run into a superior fleet.”
While IX Corps and the AFFS elements of the advance force had more than thirty warships between them, they were necessarily scattered across not only the seven liberated systems but also the supply lines back into the Federated Suns. A concerted strike could have wreaked havoc. In order to ensure Third Army’s security though, Brandt had amassed almost a hundred warships with lithium fusion batteries that gave them double the usual strategic mobility and raced them across the Federated Suns to reinforce convoy escorts and patrol squadrons from various missions around the Hegemony’s border.
If Amaris had sent only thirty warships in to attack then he could easily have lost them all to a rapid response from Third Army’s escorts. While the full story of the coup that had secured the Hegemony for him remained obscure in many ways, it was clear that the occasions where Rim Worlds warships faced the Star League Navy on anything approaching even terms had cost Amaris heavily in both ships and crews.
The first he was replacing from the Hegemony’s own stockpiles and shipyards. The second was less certain but given time he would no doubt manage.
After last December, it would be a long long time before anyone underestimated Stefan Amaris again.
.o0O0o.
Fourth Army Headquarters, New Rhodes III
Lockdale Province, Terran Hegemony
20 September 2767
Liberating the worlds was one thing, restoring everything to full functionality was another. Thus far only New Rhodes of the seven systems had a functional HPG and that had apparently strained the resources of capabilities in the nearby regions of the Federated Suns. The Army Group’s headquarters had been set up there as a matter of necessity and since General Baptiste of Fourth Army was acting as Brandt’s field commander for ground operation, Fourth Army had landed there to begin with.
“Good to see you again, General.” Jack Lucas returned McGuinness’ salute quickly and then offered his hand.
She accepted. “It’ll be good to be see action with you again, General Lucas. A little strange to be under your command rather than the other way around, but good.”
“I’m glad you feel that way.” Lucas gave his old Corps commander a searching look. “I considered asking for one of the other Corps to be seconded to Third Army for the sieges on Ozawa but LXII Corps is the one I have most confidence in.”
“I should hope so.” She gestured towards her office. “If I’d been picked to take over – and I don’t know if I was even being considered, then I would have tapped you to take over the Corps. I’ve no grounds to complain if DeChevilier saw the same potential in you.”
Inside she closed the door and checked the anti-surveillance gear set up at one end of her desk. The building had been a police station once. “The command structure’s a little strange anyway, what with Davion being shoe-horned in as Deputy Army Group Commander.”
“That’s just political though, Baptiste’s the real exec, isn’t she?” Lucas asked. “Not that the First Prince seems like he’d be a disaster but he isn’t SLDF.”
“In practical terms I’d guess it’s more like Baptiste is Ia and Davion is IIa,” the Major General clarified, referring to Operations and Logistics respectively.
“That much I can live with.”
“Yeah. Gonna be getting a lot of gear from the Feddies, hopefully it’s on par with their intelligence.”
“It’s not going to be as good as the Royal grade hardware built here in the Hegemony,” said Lucas. “But at least he got as far as Ozawa. My headquarters is right next to the Veridian Dynamics factory and the damage is pretty superficial. That should help bring my regiments’ organic artillery up to strength even the Diplan factories won’t be giving us new ‘Mechs any time soon.”
“Oh yes, they make the Vali on Ozawa don’t they?” The 8x4 light artillery vehicles was built on the same chassis as the ubiquitous RR-4 Recovery vehicle, but it carried a payload of twenty-five Arrow IV fire support missiles.
“Recovery vehicles too. There was an AFFS purchasing officer there when I visited.” Lucas smiled tightly. “Thought I was going to have to set him straight on priorities for the artillery but he just wanted six regimental sets of RR-4s.”
“It’s almost as if he knows his idiot Mechwarriors are going to get their rears hauled off the battlefield more often than not. You’re not going to be using them to storm the Castles Brian, are you?” she asked as a sudden thought crossed her mind.
“No, they need a rest and refit anyway. I think they’ll be attached to Sixth Army once that’s done but the reorganisation isn’t done. They seem to have carried their weight here though. General Kerensky must have followed through with what he said at the staff conference.”
McGuinness thought a moment and shook her head. “I must be blanking. What was that?”
“He was going to make sure the regiments sent here were more like the ones Waynewright used on that training exercise the AFFS ran before the year, not the regiments that got sent to the Concordat. I’d say Davion got the message.”
“No Syrtis Fusiliers, or whatever he was sending into the Alliance… Robinson Cavaliers?”
“Chevaliers,” Lucas corrected her. “And yes, one regiment each from those formations. Two from the Avalon Hussars, then one each Tancredi Loyalists and…” He frowned for a moment. “Dragon Lords, that was it. And they’re going to stay tied into their own brigades and divisions this time so it should be less of a complication for the rest of us. I’ve only met one of them so far, a Major General Simons, but he seems to know what he’s doing.”
“As long as they stay out of my hair, that’s fine. Maybe he’s a footslogger. They can at least accept basic instructions like ‘stay where you are and scream for support if someone shoots at you’,” McGuiness joked.
“We’re going to be demanding a bit more from our infantry clearing the Castles Brian,” Lucas said gruffly. “Digging them out isn’t going to be fun.”
-
Uedo Castle Brian, Ozawa
Lockdale Province, Terran Hegemony
17 October 2767
“Go, go, go!” Marge Pritchard shouted as their Demon pulled onto the rough road leading into the Castle Brian.
If Huber Koopman had any qualms about the order, he kept quiet about it. Instead he floored the accelerator and focused on getting sixty-five tons of tank through or around the obstacles in their path.
Unlike prospecting for rebel bases in the Periphery, here LXII Corps had the advantage of personnel who knew the Castles Brian well and could pinpoint the entrances for the assault as well as outline the defences. Less fortunately was the scale of those defences.
Pritchard had taken it with a pinch of salt when told that artillery would suppress the guns covering the door but the amount of fire from not only the regimental groups but all three battalions of the 255th Royal Mechanised Infantry division’s artillery reserve had been impressive.
Nonetheless, as the armoured spearhead pushed closer at breakneck speeds, it was clear that the fight was far from over. Wreckage of the 247th Dragoons’ tanks used to cover for the engineers rushing the entry were adding to the complications of the approach and as the hole blasted into the armoured doors came into view, a dual autocannon mount opened up.
Reflexively, Pritchard dropped into her hatch and sealed it above her. The guns were firing flack and although the tank next to them was the first target, she’d be just as dead if she was hit by a ricochet with her head and shoulders out of the cupola. “Target, turret, one o’clock.”
Next to her in the Demon’s turret, Johann Steuben brought the gun around to bear but then elevated it. “It’s out,” he told her flatly and triggered the gauss rifle. The Demon bounced over something Koopman apparently didn’t see the need to avoid as the gun breech opened and a second slug was fed into it by the autoloader.
“What are you shooting at then?” she asked, strapping herself down before she wound up doing herself an injury on the inside of the turret.
Steuben kept his eyes focused on his screens. “The turret behind it.”
An APC had over-turned in the middle of the road, the cause unclear. Pritchard saw the tank head of them skid around it to the left and Koopman automatically turned their Demon to the right. Engineers pressed themselves against the sides of the narrow canyon, making room for the armoured column. It was vital to penetrate deep inside the defences before anyone tried to seal the breach by cutting off sections of the Castle Brian.
The doors reared up above them and the first tank gunned its engines, roaring up the low, improvised ramp up over the lip of the door. Something hit it low and to the side as it entered and the sixty-five ton vehicle began to roll to the left as it vanished into the shadows.
“Night vision,” Pritchard ordered, switching the display. “Target left quarter, low as we enter…”
“Got it.” Deeper inside the tank, Alois Ranson took control of the laser mounted on the left side of the Demon.
There was a thump as the front wheels hit the ramp and somewhere Koopman found an extra bit of horsepower because as they reached the top, Pritchard would have sworn that all six of the large wheels left the ground.
A trail of crackling explosions followed them as they crashed down again on the roadway inside the Castle Brian, vanishing into the squeal as the thick rubberised wheels fought for traction.
“Field gun, I hit the ready rounds.” Ranson’s voice was steady as he scanned the surroundings. His job was to watch for attacks on their vulnerable flanks and to neutralise them with secondary weapons.
Pritchard’s responsibility was to the mission though. “Get us moving, we’re on point.” The tank ahead of them had lost its fight with stability and now lay on one side, the crew crawling out. A short-barrelled autocannon dropped out of the ceiling and began to chew at the exposed underside of the Demon.
They went past the tank without stopping to help, perhaps someone behind them would take the autocannon out but they had to press on. The space inside was a broad ramp, leading down and away from the entrance through three dog-legs, each with their own security doors.
Sapper ‘Mechs from the 247th should be ahead of them, but how many had made it was hard to guess. The first door was open and they raced through it, Koopman pushing them up past seventy on the highway-broad and level surface of the ramp.
Pritchard felt the turret twist. “Door’s not cleared,” Steuben said without any particular emphasis. He fired the gauss rifle, sending a round howling down the passageway ahead of them.
“Shit!” Peering ahead she could barely make out the heavy doors at the bottom of this section. One was gone, in fact, but the other half was simply buckled. There was room for a tank moving slowly and carefully… but this wasn’t a time for being slow and careful. “Koopman, can you thread the needle.”
“Maybe.”
Another crash from the gun. “Ram the door,” the gunner proposed as the portal loomed closer. The gauss rifle cycled another hundred and twenty-five kilo slug. “We need it wider.”
The sergeant looked at him and saw, in the red internal light, the laconic expression on Steuben’s face. As if they were back in the laager, setting up to camp in or beside their tank. Koopman was one of the best three or four drivers in the 111th. If he couldn’t reliably make the gap… “How square?”
“Two metres, approximately.” He fired once more.
“Koopman! Put our right wing two metres from the edge of the door!” Pritchard screamed and braced her feet up in front of her.
There was the start of what might have been a prayer from Ranson and then they hit.
The crash was only the first impact. She felt the rear of the tank spin left into the open space left by the door that had been removed. Then the edge of the door, weakened by Steuben’s shots, gave way and they lurched fully into the next section of the ramp, tank up on only three wheels and threatening to tip past the point of return.
There were ‘Mechs in front of them, Pritchard saw. Two of them, a Banshee with some of the giant bangalores used for breaching doors still strapped to it and a Guillotine. For a moment she thought they were still friendly and then remembered the 247th didn’t have any Guillotines – and her own regiments would still be well behind in the next wave of the attack. “Target, Guillotine!”
“Firing.” Steuben said simply and the gauss rifle spat again.
The recoil brought them back onto all six wheels, slewing them again as the front right wheel was jammed. Pritchard wasn’t bothered about that. The gauss slug had hit the wall, the first time she’d ever seen Steuben miss a shot – not that she could blame him.
Then it glanced off the wall and caught the heavy ‘Mech right in the knee. Not missing the opportunity, the 247th Banshee launched a kick at the same limb, tipping the Guillotine to the floor.
“You jammy bugger,” she exclaimed, feeling the tank straighten.
“Pardon?” he asked.
“What’d you do, Koopman?” she asked and then looked back. “That shot…”
“Banshee was in the way,” he said clinically. “I had to use the wall.”
“Cut the damaged wheel out of transmission, Sarge. We’re down to sixty, tops.”
A second tank made it through the now wider gap, followed by a third. Then stabbing light rose from the final door, ahead of them, cutting Pritchard off from worrying about Steuben’s absurd claim. The Republicans were opening the final door themselves and towering silhouettes, like ancient war gods, stalked out.
The warbook pinged a warning. Rampage. RWR assault ‘Mech, primary armament heavy autocannon, LRMs, large laser… And there were eight of them.
The Banshee, last of four she could now tell in the light, was caught exposed as the RWR assaults began to lumber up the ramp, weapons tearing into the lightly armed ‘Mech. Though larger and just as heavily armoured – the reason it was used for this work rather than smaller Work ‘Mech – the Banshee couldn’t possibly withstand that fire for more than a few seconds.
“Get us down there!” Pritchard heard a shrill demand and was surprised to recognise her own voice. The Demon lurched forwards, rapidly picking up speed again as the other two tanks followed. She’d given them no signal – in fact with all the jamming she probably couldn’t – but they must have seen the same logic that she did.
Without engineers, the door at the bottom could be closed again even if they somehow managed to defeat the Rampages. But block it from closing and SLDF reinforcements would have access to the marshalling yard that should be beyond, and at least a fighting chance of penetrating deeper.
The Banshee fell and the Rim Mechwarriors turned their attention to the tanks. Already damaged from the collision, the Demon’s frontal glacis couldn’t take much more punishment, only Koopman’s driving and the enemy splitting fire among the three tanks sparing the Pritchard’s crew the brunt of the lasers and autocannon fire directed up the ramp.
Steuben and Ranson were firing, to what effect she couldn’t guess. The first Rampage was before them, side-stepping and drawing one massive metal foot back with obvious intent.
“Koop - !”
The crashing collision tore away the already damaged wheel and spun them through one hundred and eighty degrees. The lights dimmed to a handful of emergency LEDs as the tank’s abused fusion reactor shut down abruptly.
“Urgh.” Pritchard shook her head. They’d ended up against the wall of the ramp, somehow intact but not functional. “Crew check?”
“Alive,” Ranson replied. “Missile launcher jammed, no power for the lasers.”
“Likewise.” Steuben tested his controls clinically. “Turret locked. Capacitors charged and a slug loaded so I have one shot.” He reached up towards the hatch. “I’ll need to shoot visually, the screen’s out.”
Silence.
“Ranson, check on Koopman,” she ordered. “Steuben don’t fire that shot unless I tell you to.” Pritchard unstrapped and started working on her own hatch. When she poked her head out cautiously she saw they were now behind the Rampages, but someone was still fighting. It wasn’t the two Demons that had been behind them though. Both tanks had been smashed open by the brutal fire directed at them. It was small consolation that one of the enemy ‘Mechs had joined them in death.
Looking back she saw the door and beyond it the floor of the marshalling yard. Still open, still lit. and at least right at this instant, with no back-up for the Rampages in her admittedly limited field of vision.
“One of them’s almost lined up,” Steuben noted. “Just needs to move forward a little more.”
“Don’t shoot,” she ordered.
“Sergeant?” he asked, turning baby-blue eyes on her with an air of slight suspicion.
“Hold it.” She ducked back down into the tank. “Ranson?”
“Koopman’s out, but he’s breathing. Without power we’re not going anywhere even if he wakes.”
“That might not actually be the case,” Pritchard told him. “Are we in neutral?”
“Yes…?”
“Release the brakes,” she ordered with a sly smile. Maybe it wouldn’t do anything. Lord only knew what was left of their wheels but…
“Brakes released,” Ranson told her.
But she could tell already, because their Demon was beginning to roll backwards towards the bottom of the ramp. She smiled. “When I tell you – not now, but when, I want you to brake but just for the left wheels. Can do?”
“It’s been a while,” the gunner told her drily. “But I think I remember the right controls.” Fortunately the release for the brakes worked on the emergency battery even without main power.
“Right. Take your hands off the trigger, Steuben. Right now we’re doing something more important than back-shooting one ‘Mech.”
Looking back she saw the doors were beginning, very slowly, to close as the remaining security recognised what they were doing. Four soldiers even rushed out into the doorway to fire up at them with assault rifles
Even in this state, they might as well have been firing spitballs for all their weapons would do to a tank, but Pritchard huddled down, her helmeted head just far enough out of the cupola to judge when to give Ranson the breaking order.
For his part, Steuben pulled out his sidearm and fired four shots back down towards the door, as coolly as if he was still firing a gauss rifle rather than a laser pistol that would have fit easily into his hip-pocket.
“Get your pretty head back inside the tank before it’s shot off,” Pritchard snarled.
“Setting aside the chain of command, you’re still not my type, sergeant. Besides, who’s to shoot at me?”
With a frown, Pritchard looked at him and then glanced ahead. The four soldiers from before all lay sprawled on the ferrocrete of the marshalling yard, at least thirty yards away. “From behind,” she said weakly, and then swore. “Ranson!”
Fortunately, the man took her curse as an instruction and the Demon turned sharply as it approached the door, finally crashing rear-first into one of the closing panels as it slid towards them. Such was the sheer mass of the door that it actually started pushing them to start pivoting on the left wheels until Ranson locked them too. While they continued to skid at least they were more or less straightened out on the threshold.
There was a crash and then a grinding noise as the bow of the Demon encountered the other panel and began to buckle.
“Right, everyone out,” Pritchard decided. There was no use getting crushed if the tank couldn’t handle the doors. “Steuben, help Ranson with Koopman.”
“Which way?” the gunner asked.
The sergeant looked in the two possible directions. “Into the base,” she decided. There was a better chance of finding somewhere to hide than on the open ramp, particularly as Rampages had machineguns and flamers if she recalled correctly.
.o0O0o.
Fourth Army Headquarters, New Rhodes
Lockdale Province, Terran Hegemony
3 December 2767
“Some of those soldiers deserve Medals of Valor,” Brandt noted as she turned away from a display still running news footage of the earlier awards ceremonies. “That tank crew from Uedo, for example. But politically we need to reward them now rather than wait what could be years so the Commanding General can present them.”
The highest grades of the SLDF’s awards for merit could only be awarded by the highest uniformed member of their service, which was a slight logistical problem at the moment. While they could have waited, working with the media to keep the SLDF’s public support high was pushing commanders to make decisions more expedient than they’d normally have done.
“I didn’t notice any complaints about the number of Army Crosses and Cameron Stars you were handing out,” John told her drily.
“The Liberation Ribbon was a stroke of genius,” she added with more than grudging respect. “It underlines Amaris as the greatest threat we’ve ever faced.”
While most medals came with their own distinct ribbons, John had suggested a new one to be added for any soldier who received an award while fighting to liberate the Hegemony. Stark black and pristine white, Kerensky had approved the additional ribbon as an alternative to devaluing the rewards offered alongside some medals such as knighthoods or land grants. Some of those were out of reach. In fact, so far as it was known the only Star League Medals of Honor, the single highest award that the Star League awarded, off Terra were those already awarded. Unissued examples would presumably still be in a vaults under the Court of the Star League on Earth and SLDF Headquarters on New Earth.
Tatjana Baptiste shook her head. “So long as no one gets reckless chasing the extra braid on their uniform,” she said. “Moving on?”
“Go ahead, General. Ground forces strength is next on the agenda, I believe?”
The general gestured to the display. “Across the five armies we have assembled, we’ve mostly been able to bring intact divisions up to strength by absorbing independent regiments although this leaves us significantly short of independent BattleMech regiments at the Army level. In future we’ll need to either look at cutting brigades from the TO&E, cutting the Corps Regimental Combat Teams or bringing in reserves from units in the Member-States.”
“General Kerensky has authorised the latter,” John advised. “Second Army is working with my Department of Military Education to build cadres from their existing RCTs that new recruits can be fed into. It won’t provide Mechwarriors, pilots or a lot of other specialised personnel quickly, but in the short term replacements for infantry and a few of the more basic combat vehicle crew positions should begin to arrive in another six months.”
“Six months?” Janos Grec shook his head. “Basic and trade training is four times that by SLDF standards. Those soldiers will be raw.”
“We’re cutting a lot of corners,” the prince admitted uncompromisingly. “There are two streams, the second stream will have four months basic and eight trade, but until we have enough people coming through that we’re pulling the top twenty percent of applicants and rushing them into Second Army units where they can hopefully learn on the job, freeing up the existing men and women to be transferred into the vacancies here.”
Baptiste adjusted the controls. “We have fifty-five SLDF divisions and two AFFS divisions as matters stand. The Third and Fourth Armies remain the largest, due to the losses taken by the Nineteenth and the lower force strength of the two Armies that were previously stationed in Capellan space. Rather than trying to balance the load, we’re regularising it into two heavy armies to carry the weight of the offensive and three lighter armies to act as a reserve and cover garrison work.”
“By disbanding LXIX Corps and LXX Corps, as well as transferring in LVI Corps from the Nineteenth, both the Third and the Fourth have consolidated to three Corps of five Divisions each, around sixty-three percent of our field strength before we went to the Periphery.” She moved the slides showing these armies so that those of the Sixth, Seventh and Nineteenth appeared. “Similarly, by disbanding out of the XXXVIII and LVIII Corps we’ve been able to bring the Seventh and Nineteenth to nine divisions split between two Corps, roughly sixty and forty-three percent of their previous strength.”
“Jesus,” Brandt blasphemed. “No one put it like that before for me.”
“Sixth Army only has seven divisions still combat effective,” Baptiste continued, unphased. “Consideration was given to breaking it up to reinforce one of the other Armies. Instead, Prince Davion’s three divisions have been attached as a short Corps to bring them up to near parity with the other light armies. My apologies, your highness, but AFFS divisional structure is a little… different from ours.”
“I’m not offended, general. The facts are the facts.”
“Walk me through that last point,” asked the Army Group commander.
Grec glanced over at Baptiste who yielded the floor. “Essentially, one of our divisions has three line brigades of three regiments each. Depending on the build that could be two infantry brigades to one ‘Mech brigade or the reverse. Then supporting elements in company, battalion or even regimental strength are attached for supporting purposes, anything up to two further brigade equivalents.”
“And the Federated Suns?”
“An AFFS division, at least the way their contribution has been structured, integrates the specialised units into the line forces, with around one company per battalion being configured to contain their anti-aircraft, artillery, aviation units and so forth. The divisions also include a fourth brigade built around armoured combat vehicles.” The Rear-Admiral spread his hands. “It’s out of my field to say if it’s better or worse than SLDF arrangements.”
“It’s a little experimental, units still in the Suns are still working out what suits us for higher level organisation.” It was also a compromise between what Hanse described from his own era and the rather different force and transportation balances that John had to work with. If anything, the Ceti Hussars, Crucis Dragoons and the units they were working with seemed to be working towards something smaller and more flexible.
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Great to see you continuing the story.
Any chance of a map if not I don't mind. O0
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One nit pick, Condor was not around in 2767...............IIRC it comes around in like 2801 or so.
But, otherwise, excellent writing.
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Thanks, I'll fix it.
For a force with such a massive infantry force, the SLDF seems to have had remarkably few infantry transports.
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That's what the bulk cargo space was for! ^-^
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Yeah, I asked a while back about that same issue in the General Forum. Of course there is the Czar, carries 36 infantry platoons.
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Fourth Army Headquarters, New Rhodes
Lockdale Province, Terran Hegemony
4 December 2767
Too tired to look further at paperwork, too keyed up to sleep, John was helping Hanse play solitaire when Brandt entered the office he’d been using. “Marshal,” she said and then added “At ease,” as he started to rise.
“A gentleman always rises for a lady,” he said solemnly and would have offered her a chair if she hadn’t taken one without waiting.
“The only person who calls me a lady is my husband. I’m a fighter pilot, for crying out loud.”
“The two aren’t mutually exclusive,” he told her, but sat down again.
“Ten of Sharks to Mech of Orbs,” Hanse told him.
It was tempting to give him a sidelong look. Sometimes he wondered about the other man’s manners.
“Don’t let me spoil your game,” the admiral told him. “I didn’t know you played cards.”
John moved the selected cards. “I don’t as such. I picked up solitaire on Valexa as something to kill time when I wasn’t going to be able to get any constructive work done but I couldn’t sleep.”
She looked down at the cards as Hanse tapped the deck and John dealt three more cards over the hand he’d been working from. “Periphery deck?”
“I didn’t have any with me. Someone on my staff picked them up out of the Rim Worlds quarters when they were being cleared of personal effects and had them handy when I asked.”
“Four of Avellar to Five of Centralla.”
He moved the card off the hand as directed. Each suite referenced one of the great houses. Playing cards for Hanse felt like a microcosm of the last several years – closer to eight than seven now, wasn’t it? Although at least if he disagreed there was nothing stopping him playing the cards as he wished rather than as directed.
“Odd not to at least see a Hegemony Star in a deck,” Brandt noted. Most decks used four Inner Sphere houses, usually the manufacturer’s nationality, the Hegemony and whichever two realms lay on the far side of the manufacturer. There had been a fad when John was younger for decks of six suites, representing all the Member-States but it made games trickier so most people would shuffle two suites out and the fad died away. It occurred to him to wonder which suites were commonly used here in the Hegemony.”
“It’s all a matter of perspective. Can I help you?”
“I just want to shuffle a couple of things for the conference tomorrow.”
“She’s made a decision,” Hanse told him. “Mech of Avellar to Duke of Calderon.”
“Is it about the plans?” John asked Brandt, looking up as he moved the cards. He almost dropped the Three of Centralla and had to slip it back into place.
She nodded. “Firstly, I want to move the mention you’re heading back to New Avalon to earlier in the meeting. If it comes later it might feel like a reaction.”
“A bit awkward to have the departure brought up mid-way through the meeting. Might have them wondering why I’m around for the rest of it.” He turned over three new cards for Hanse. “I assume that means you’ve decided on Jack Lucas’ plan?”
“I have. Is that a problem?”
John took a deep breath and cudgelled his brain for something that could perhaps change her mind. Both plans were aggressive, that wasn’t the concern. But while John’s focused on liberating as many worlds as possible, focusing on the lightly defended in order to deprive Amaris of resources and hopefully give the Hegemony a core of up a dozen more worlds with hopefully minimal damage to their industry and infrastructure, General Lucas had proposed going directly for two of the well-fortified worlds in reach of the current liberated zone.
Not systems with SDS networks, fortunately there were only three such star systems in the entire province, but Addicks and Tigress both had multiple Castles Brian and might have significant numbers of defenders. Knocking them out would prevent the worlds from being used as bases for a counter-attack but it was just as possible that very modest garrisons might tie up half of the Army Group for between six months and a year.
“This is a test,” Hanse warned and John realised he’d been quiet too long.
“I have no other arguments than those I’ve voiced already, Admiral,” he said quietly. “I disagree, but you’re in command. If you’ve made up your mind then both you and General Lucas will have my complete support.”
“That must come hard to you, taking orders.” Brandt sounded amused. “If you’d rather we can switch the deployments and hold Sixth Army with your troops in reserve, Nineteenth Army can take over the supporting attack on Ankaa.”
“As I understand it, the decision to keep the Nineteenth Army in reserve was based on their greater need to shake down their new command personnel. Since that logic hasn’t changed, I don’t see that as being in the operation’s best interests. Unless the situation has changed?”
She smirked. “No, it hasn’t. Alright, we’ll brief out as discussed then. You might want to get some sleep first though. It’s not good for morale for a commander to look that worn out.”
“Well now I know what the decision is, perhaps I’ll be able to.”
She nodded. “Just for the record, John, I liked your plan. It had panache. But you were practically baiting Amaris to come out and try to force us out. Fighting on seven worlds at once, with only twelve divisions in reserve to reinforce us or to cover the worlds we’ve liberated so far…”
“I wish to God that he would. As best we’ve been able to determine he brought twenty-four or twenty-five divisions with him from the Rim Worlds Republic and for all his talk about thirty divisions, it’ll be at least a another year before they’re ready. Right now he can’t strike at us with anything like numerical parity so he needs to stay behind the fortifications he’s captured.”
John swept the cards together with both hands, covering the rough pile with both hands. “I’m not going to lie and claim it would be quick or easy but right now anything he sent out in counter-attack would be far more vulnerable than we are. He’s holding down over a hundred worlds with a smaller force than we have – he’s much less of a reserve than we have.”
“We can’t afford heavy losses, Marshal. Much less to give him a victory. The fighting in the Republic isn’t going badly but the other Army Groups are too far away. If we take serious casualties I’d either have to hold off on further operations or pull fresh divisions out of the garrisons in one or more of the Member States. That would cause… problems.”
“We’re going over old ground.” He started tidying up the deck. “Is there anything you want me to set in motion on New Avalon to help with the plan we’re actually using?”
Brandt shrugged. “There’s a list Lucas has put together. I don’t claim to understand why he wants Alacorn Mark IV tanks instead of Mark VI models, I’d have thought the newer ones were better. Things an Admiral wouldn’t know I suppose.”
“Mark VI Alacorns carry three gauss rifles,” John told her. “Fine weapons for open range fighting but the Mark IV we licensed a few years ago carry three heavy autocannon. Given how brutal the in-fighting was inside the Castles Brian on Ozawa, New Florence and Rio were, I’m guessing he wants to be better prepared for the future operations like that.”
“There you go, you understand it better than I do. Makes you the right man back on New Avalon and me the right person out here to keep the army from getting lost,” Brandt said with forced cheeriness.
.o0O0o.
Avalon City, New Avalon
Crucis March, Federated Suns
4 April 2768
“I’m not convinced that this is the time for such changes.” Vasily Sandoval frowned at the map display of the Federated Suns. “Right now we have regiments that are very familiar with their areas of their responsibility and the officers they’ll be working with. If we were to come under attack before they’re settled into the new arrangements then our defences will be at a disadvantage.”
“And then there’s the espirit de corps of the March Militias.” Duchess Rita Hasek frowned at the idea. “They’re become very popular as champions of their respective regions in the biannual training exercises. You know how sports fans get about their teams.”
John and Vasily exchanged looks and came to a silent agreement that this wasn’t the time to correct the duchess’ use of ‘espirit de corps’. With one tour of duty in the AFFS she met the basic requirements to lay claim to the traditional right of a March Lord to serve as military commander of their March, but while Vasily’s service had been on the frontlines of the War of Davion Succession, while Rita’s tour of duty had been served entirely on the march capital of New Syrtis, with the Sixth Syrtis Fusiliers.
“The situation isn’t going to get any better,” John explained to the Draconis March lord. “Not until the Star League Council agrees on a new First Lord and right now the vote is four to one in favour of deferring that until Richard’s fate is confirmed.”
“That’s ridiculous,” snapped Rita. “Amaris would hardly undermine his claim to the position by leaving Richard alive. He might have spared the children, but the Camerons would have been given a choice between forswearing the throne or execution. That’s just plain sense and given how stiff-necked they are, nine-tenths of them probably wound up in front of firing squads. The Usurper can’t allow a rival claimant to live.”
“She’s not dumb, John. No soldier, but no fool either,” Hanse noted.
John turned to the duchess. “I think that’s the real issue, Rita. Without any idea of what the line of succession is and the Camerons no longer in practical control of the Hegemony, any regent or new First Lord would be painting a target on themselves.”
“Does Amaris have the forces to invade another Member-State?” asked Vasily in surprise. “I would have thought he had enough to deal with given the fighting on Tigress and Addicks.”
The Hasek shook her head. “Don’t be foolish, Vasily. Not soldiers: assassins and terrorist attacks. After Amaris suborned so much of the Hegemony government, there’s no knowing who else he might have agents close to in other realms.”
“Why not you then, sire? Or, what’s her name… Richard’s aunt… uh, dammit, Vincent Davion’s wife.”
“I have enough on my plate,” John told the Duke drily. “Between my own duties and supporting the SLDF’s activities, I’m already pushing work off onto Edwina and Joshua. Besides, the other Lords wouldn’t accept me, or Guerever for that matter. Just because they don’t want to risk getting pulled forwards doesn’t mean they’d accept me as even provisionally wielding the First Lord’s authority.”
“Dogs in a manger.”
“Yes. But we’re getting away from the point of this conversation.” The First Prince tuned back to the map. “You’re right that at the moment regiments within the Combat Regions are largely familiar with each other and their commanders, but even with the way we’ve shuffled regiments for GALAHAD and the various expeditionary forces over the last eight years, most of them aren’t very familiar with troops outside those regions. My concern is that if several regions were under attack and one was on the brink of collapse, neighbouring regions wouldn’t recognise this or offer support until news reached a higher level command.”
“There are facilities for that,” Vasily protested. “Operational Area command -”
John raised his hand. “Let me give you an example. Suppose the DCMS were to launch a surprise attack, with raids all along the border covering for a deep strike at Fairfax. If they neutralise the headquarters there, then not only would the Fairfax Combat Region be leaderless, but they’d also leave Dahar without a direct chain of command to you on New Syrtis because Fairfax is also headquarters for the Operation Area. It could take weeks to re-establish control of regiments in the area, those that weren’t overwhelmed without anyone to direct them on whether reinforcements were on the way or if they should withdraw to regroup.”
“Hmm.” Vasily studied the map. “And Fairfax is halfway between the border and the edge of the Crucis March.”
“Yes. Troop densities simply aren’t at the same level within the interior as they are along the border since we can’t be strong everywhere. With a base of operations deep in the Draconis March, Draconian raiding parties could wreak havoc.”
“And you think that this would reduce the risks of that?” asked Rita thoughtfully. “Wouldn’t these new…” she squinted at the screen, “Polymorphous Defense Zones have the same problems?”
“Right now, a single headquarters controls a sector of the border as well as all the territory back to the rear-edge of the border march,” John explained. “To use my example from earlier, if one PDZ is taken out then there are multiple PDZs either behind or in front of it due to the way their areas of responsibility interlock. It gives us layered defences that would be harder to neutralise before reinforcements can be assembled.”
“It won’t do much good for Chesterton,” she said. The smallest of the border combat regions only contained five worlds, including the Demeter salient.”
“I didn’t claim it was perfect, just that it was better than our current arrangement.”
Vasily drummed his fingers on his desk. “The idea has some merits, but given the disruption it’ll cause, I’d like some precautions in place to minimise our exposure.”
“What do you have in mind?”
“The backbone of our defences against the Combine are the Robinson Chevaliers.” Duke Sandoval eyed John a little suspiciously under his thick eyebrows. “I know you respect their abilities, given their deployments of late but I want a commitment that they won’t be pulled around like that until the new organisation has had a little while to get established – five years or so.”
“What do you mean, pulled around?”
“Expeditionary forces, or getting their homeworlds settled. It’s been bad for morale – lots of service families having to uproot to follow soldiers around.” The large man shrugged. “I don’t begrudge that they should do their part, but between the Outworlds and now the Thirty-Second being sent into the Hegemony I think the Chevaliers have earned enough glory to let other regiments have a chance at it.”
John leant back in his chair. “You want the Chevaliers to retain their current postings for the next five years.”
“There’s no real impact in this of which worlds need garrisoning, just which headquarters they look to. So while the one is in flux, let them stay on worlds they’re familiar with. If you must move troops around, there are plenty of Avalon Hussars to do that with.”
“And no more sending the Chevaliers into the Hegemony for the next five years.”
“There are other regiments,” Vasily pointed out, not mentioning that the Chevaliers were the second largest brigade in the AFFS BattleMech corps, almost twenty percent of the whole.
“And the same with the Syrtis Fusiliers.” Rita didn’t hesitate to take the same position.
A third of the AFFS’ BattleMech regiments locked into place and unavailable for service in the Hegemony. Setting down roots on their postings and settling into routines.
But I don’t have the leverage to fight the March Lords on this. “That’s fair,” John told them. “As long as the current situation extends, that is. If the Federated Suns comes under direct attack, I can’t promise to leave them in place.”
“Oh naturally. And since there will be more PDZs than the current Combat Regions, we’ll need to federalize additional militia regiments to provide them with March Militia brigades.”
John sighed. The various planetary lords had been very enthusiastic about building up their militia forces to compete for status in regular exercises, right up until he’d federalised the best prepared brigades in each combat region in 2754. Somehow he didn’t think they’d fall for that again. On the other hand… “I’ll leave the selection up to the two of you,” he declared. “Let me know your decisions by the end of this year’s exercises and you can announce the five new March Militias in time for the presentation.”
Rita blinked and opened her mouth only for Vasily to shake his head. “You walked into that, my dear,” he warned her. “Can we at least look at a finals round between all three Marchs?” the Duke asked John. “There’s still some enthusiasm after the way the Crucis Militias have been bragging about their part in Operation GALAHAD.”
“Not this year, but I’ll see if we can schedule it for the 2770 exercises,” the prince agreed.
-
Avalon City, New Avalon
Crucis March, Federated Suns
7 April 2768
“This may be seen as presumptuous on your part,” Bennett Green warned. The Bureau of Star League Affairs’ Administrator for the Federated Suns was meeting John in Joshua’s offices rather than the First Prince’s own in part to keep the meeting low key and partly so John had the excuse to leave his office. With so many public appearances being delegated he’d begun to feel a degree of cabin-fever when it came to the admittedly luxurious office suite.
“I don’t plan to do anything drastic with the position,” John assured him with a flicker of guilt at the dishonesty. “But there are some administrative duties associated with it and Kerensky barely had time for them under Richard’s regency, much less now.”
“However innocent your intentions, the fact is that you’re discussing one of the First Lord’s secondary titles.”
“The High Council would raise something of a protest if some of the ducal powers were abused.” Joshua pushed a cup of coffee across the table to Bennett. “And with thirty worlds involved, I’m surprised we’ve gone this far without friction.”
The administrator made a face at the point but didn’t verbally acknowledge it, accepting the coffee instead.
John studied the man and concluded that he was only really holding out for form’s sake. Conferring the title of Duke of New Avalon on the First Lord’s heir had originally been entirely honorary but in the first century of the Star League the position had been granted certain powers by the High Council for reasons of convenience.
Some of those powers would be best left untouched, at least for now. Joshua was absolutely right that the High Council would be infuriated if John, acting as regent pending a new First Star Lord to take up the title, used the traditional perquisite of calling and dismissing the High Council at his own convenience. That was only intended to make allowances for visits by someone who could only briefly visit New Avalon and not necessarily fit the annual assemblies into his busy calendar, not for use by a First Prince who lived there.
Similarly, granting – and revoking - noble titles was a power carefully kept out of the First Prince’s hands over the years. The nobility of the Federated Suns had arisen first out of the titles of world rulers when the federation was founded and formalised under Simon Davion when a formal roll of honours was established to somewhat standardise the relative power of the great, middling and sometimes quite astoundingly petty nobility of the Suns. The power to meddle in that was something the High Council took very seriously and for the most part the Camerons had used it judiciously to reward citizens of the Federated Suns for their services to the Star League as a whole.
Perhaps Richard Cameron had forgotten about it. John shuddered to think how it might have been abused if Richard had been so dissolute when he received his title.
“I’d be happy to leave the position untenanted if it weren’t for the colonies,” he said in a conciliatory fashion. “If the worlds under the Duke’s administration had been released to receive Federation membership as used to be the custom this wouldn’t be an issue. Unfortunately, the last Cameron to do so was Jonathan Cameron, almost eighty years ago and now we have thirty well-developed colonies that are still technically property of the First Lord’s office.”
“Quite. Can you imagine the repercussions of any drastic action once a new First Lord is elected,” Green asked nervously. “I imagine the new Cameron would have something to say about any disposition he disagreed with.”
“And yet there are issues that need to be tended to in their administration.” John turned to his son. “I’m sure you’ve realised that in practical terms, those will fall to you rather than me.”
“I didn’t think you were here for the coffee,” Joshua replied.
“That’s just a benefit,” his father admitted. “What have you been doing to the catering here?”
“I hired retired AFFS catering personnel to replace the previous contractors. When military food is a step up, you know you have a problem.”
Under the Star League terraforming science had advanced in leaps and bounds, allowing settlement on scores of worlds within the boundaries of the member-states that had previously been bypassed. In tribute to the close relationship between the Federated Suns and the Star League – and perhaps to solidify his position as a very young successor to his nigh-legendary great-grandfather, Prince Zane Davion had placed these new colonies of the Federated Suns under the protection of the First Star Lord in 2615.
Protection had become administration and effectively ownership. Which meant money in the form of rents and other fees paid by those who settled or made use of lands not covered by the founding colonists. And as the colonies grew and developed, so did that income. Perhaps greed hadn’t been the primary motivator in deferring the transfer of those rights to planetary governments… but it might have been as much a factor as neglect.
John looked back to Green. “I don’t require you to actively approve of my taking responsibility for administering the Duchy. And I won’t be selling off its assets, although if the Commanding General does want to start giving the usual land grants associated with military medals, the duchy would at least give him some land to grant.”
“That’s true, I suppose.” The administrator sighed. “We’re going to lose assets as it is.”
“What?” Joshua blinked. “I thought matters were going well – it hasn’t come up with the committee at least.”
“Not in the Suns,” Green explained. “The other Lords haven’t been as accommodating and my counterparts have had to cancel a number of projects we were involved in for various reasons – lack of Hegemony-built equipment, personnel resigning to join Kerensky’s training camps – we hire a lot of veterans and we were already stretched with reservists called up to cover for units in the Periphery. And then there’s money.”
“Always it’s money,” Joshua grumbled.
“It makes the Sphere go round,” John confirmed. “I’ve had some reports that some of the FWL provinces have been holding back Star League taxes.”
“If by some you mean Regulus, then yes.” The Principality of Regulus was one of, perhaps the, largest provinces of the Free Worlds League. They’d been one of the three states that leagued together in 2271 to found the Free Worlds League and while the ruling dynasty had changed over the centuries, their pride hadn’t. “The Duchess is withholding the funds in lieu of funding for social programmes that Administrator Hughes simply can’t provide. The same’s happening on a smaller scale with planetary governments in the other three states.”
“Can’t Kenyon Marik put a stop to it?”
The two older men exchanged looks. “He probably could, son. But why would he? Right now he’s hitting General Kerensky right in the pocket-books just by not lifting a finger to stop it.”
Green nodded sourly. “If revenue keeps dropping like this then we’ll need to look at other ways to raise money for the SLDF. If that comes at the expense of other activities then we could wind up alienating more local rulers.”
“And then there’s the lawsuits,” warned John. “Even if you haven’t actually breached contract, getting embroiled in litigation over it – and with the Supreme Court on Terra I don’t think they’d be a good place to appeal to – could wind up being another drain on the coffers.”
A morose silence fell over the office.
“Take the duchy,” Green said quietly. “Just swear to me that we can at least rely on that not happening here.”
“We’re at war, Bennett,” John said coldly. “That gives me legal options I wouldn’t have otherwise. I can’t promise no one will make trouble – that’s human nature.” And then his voice was like iron. “They won’t do it twice.”
.o0O0o.
Avalon City, New Avalon
Crucis March, Federated Suns
12 May 2768
“News from the Republic?” John guessed as Janos Grec settled into the chair opposite him.
“Damn your spies are getting good,” the SLDF officer replied good naturedly. “Are you sure you don’t have one on my staff.”
“Just logic. I conferenced with Brandt yesterday about the Ankaa situation, so if you need a meeting it’s probably about something else.”
Grec’s eyes hardened. “Yes, that… disaster is quite enough from that front.”
“It could have been worse. Kenyon Marik could have had troops there,” John replied lightly.
Ankaa wasn’t a major industrial world or particularly heavily fortified so they’d seen relatively little of Amaris’ hand so far. While the had been some economic rumbling, they’d not seen the factory quotas demanded of less fortunate worlds and so the idea of a new leader replacing the unpopular Richard hadn’t tarnished there as it might have.
The first sign of trouble when Sixth Army had landed was the planetary militia mustering under the banner of the Amaris Empire Armed Forces. Vastly outnumbered, it had still taken three months for the SLDF divisions to pin down and crush the Terran soldiers. The irritated commander of the Sixth, Janeth Apostolaki, had convened court martials for the survivors on grounds of treason. Massive public demonstrations and direct orders from Joan Brandt had just barely dissuaded him from hanging them.
And then First Division, Federated Suns Auxiliary Corps, had landed to take on some of the garrison work as LXIII Corps prepared to move on.
Local opposition went berserk, mass rallies accusing Apostolaki of selling out to the Federated Suns and insurgents striking at SLDF and AFFS patrols. A formal petition had been presented to General Gerik Chudzik of LVII Corps, asking for the direct personal intervention of General Kerensky to remove the ‘tyrannical Apostolaki’ and ‘invading Feddies’.
“I can just imagine how that blowhard would have handled it. What was it his precious Napoleon was known for? A whiff of grapeshot?”
“Fortunately Chudzik has more sense.” Experienced in difficult civilian relationships with the SLDF after serving years in the Confederation, the cool-headed Major General had rotated the 309th Royal BattleMech Division into the garrison posts the AFFS was still settling into. The almost entirely Hegemony-born troops had soothed the situation and Major General Simons’ First Division had, through a hasty raid of the captured Militia stores for uniforms and lots of olive paint been re-branded as ‘SLDF Volunteers’ patrolling away from the major cities. “I wouldn’t be surprised if he replaces Apostolaki shortly.”
“There’s a lot of that going around,” Grec agreed. “But yes, I’ve heard from General DeChevilier in the Republic. They’re making good progress, but the factories there aren’t as extensive as had been hoped.”
“I suppose if Amaris had a larger industrial base, he might have left more troops to defend the worlds,” John noted. “If not from the SLDF than from his own insurgents.”
A surprising number of worlds had welcomed Kerensky as a liberator – Amaris’ smooth public relations machine had focused on the Hegemony rather than his own domain it seemed. Outlying Rim Worlds Army detachments hadn’t just forted up because it was their only hope against the massive SLDF forces – some of them had been in genuine fear of being over-run by local rebellions. Not all, not even most… but enough to add more positive news to last year’s victories.
“It does leave us with some problems, particularly in the area of mid-weight BattleMechs. Are you familiar with Cosara Weaponry?”
John paused and saw Hanse perk up. “Northwind,” the ghost advised him.
“Based on Northwind?”
“Yes, they won a contract back in 2719 to supply the SLDF with their medium design, the Crab.”
Memory flooded back. “Oh lord, yes I remember now. What did they managed to build? Thirty or forty a year? The lawsuit came up back around the time Simon Cameron died.”
“Yes, well that set things back badly.” Grec shook his head. “Anyway, under the emergency budget authorised when we deployed to the Periphery, the General granted a new contract to Blueshot Weapons in the Lyran Commonwealth to build another ‘Mech in the same weight bracket for us – the Starslayer.”
“More trouble?”
“It’s like your psychic,” the admiral said sarcastically. “They can’t get their production lines together and naturally Steiner is stirring the pot merrily.”
“Oh bloody hell, Robert.” John started to massage his forehead. “Alright, what can I do to help?”
“I understand that Achernar BattleMechs are looking to build a new factory?”
“Yes, on Point Barrow. Between us, they’re having trouble meeting demand and it was going to be convenient to the supply bases on Andalusia and Bonneau.”
Grec nodded. “We’ve activated penalty clauses in the contracts with Blueshot and Cosara that let us grant licenses and provide the schematics for another firm to begin building their ‘Mechs. Steiner will kick off, but he’s already annoyed the General quite enough that one more piece of wood on the fire won’t make matters any worse. I’m authorised to offer both licenses to Achernar, along with technical support from Second Army to get production up and running as fast as possible.”
“Do it!” Hanse exclaimed. “Those are our bread and butter, John. Heavies are just the backbone, the one thing the AFFS can’t do without is a steady supply of workhorse mediums.”
“I can’t speak for Achernar’s board, I’m only one shareholder,” John told his guest and his ghost. “But you certainly have my support and I’d be glad to arrange a meeting. Will you handle it personally or shall we drop it on Joshua and Bennett?”
“On this one I’ll have to take point since it’s the SLDF granting the license. Fortunately I can let Bennett handle some more conventional contracting. Corean and Johnston will be getting more of our funding for their vehicle programmes.”
“You’re going to the League, then?” asked John in surprise. “DeChevilier’s closer to Stewart than you are right now.”
Grec smirked. “It’s nice to get one over on you every now and then,” he informed the Prince. “They do have some tertiary facilities right here on New Avalon and since Captain-General Marik isn’t supportive of expanding SLDF contracts to suppliers within his realm, they’ve offered to retool and expand their presence here to build armoured vehicles for us.”
“Point for you,” John conceded.
“They built the Valkyrie and the Centurion for us here,” Hanse noted and then frowned. “Probably not started the Valkyrie yet, the Centurion assembly was relocated here late in Ian’s reign.”
“While we’re on the subject of tertiary plants,” the First Prince continued, “I’ve had a message from Erskine Cobb about some shortfalls affecting their production for the SLDF. Heatsink components, specifically, now that they can’t import from the Hegemony. It’s going to be another four months before we have enough endo-steel coming from our new orbital factories to fill the demand. Longer if Amaris decides to send out raiders after them.”
The admiral grunted. Orbital factories were unavoidable given the need for micro-gravity to manufacture so many key materials these days, but they were far more vulnerable to naval raids than factories buried securely in a planet’s crust, where only invasion or an extended bombardment could get at them. “What are you angling for?”
“We’re still struggling with our heavy fighter numbers, the types we’ll need for anti-shipping strikes,” John explained. “And it’s not as if you can afford to pull them back from the frontlines, for the same reasons. If Amaris does push anywhere, you need them too. But someone on my staff pointed out that the Vulcans the rebels were flying in the Periphery must have come from factories in the Rim Worlds Republic.”
“That would follow. They’re not great fighters, but they’re certainly a threat to dropships. What do you want, the tooling?”
“Enough that we can copy it here. We’ll share output, of course.”
“You can probably have the lot,” Grec told him. “It’s bad enough identifying targets with Amaris using SLDF hardware against us in the Hegemony. The last thing we want is to add to the confusion by having Rim Worlds designs fighting alongside us.”
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The Suns are going to come out of this extremely powerful it looks like. Hanse was already a huge bonus but now they get 2 medium mechs and a fighter design.
Great read.
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I just love this line:
"...the relative power of the great, middling and sometimes quite astoundingly petty nobility of the Suns."
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Starslayers and Crabs!
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nicely written. The 6th Army's commander's reaction is understandable.
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Still absolutely loving this
How much have you micro-manage or detail fixed things like the composition of the Armies or what exactly makes up a Davion Division versus an SLDF one and how much are you just going for "plot"?
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He posted the outline a while back, the file I saved it in is dated 12 AUG 2012. Its an interesting TO&E, but I'm not sure if its changed.
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I've got a (lengthy) list of what Corps are which army and how many divisions each Corps has at a given time. Unless it's particularly plot relevant I don't worry too much about which division is which or about the independent regiments.
The AFFS division organisation is somewhat in flux through Idealist and Loyalist as they work out what they want. In general they've settled on a principle at battalion and brigade level of "2 line units, 1 composite unit of specialists". Susan Sandoval's battalion was an example of this earlier in the story with 2 line companies of Warhammers and the third company made up of her command lance, an air defense lance and a fire support lance.
What evolves through Loyalist (albeit mostly in the background), is what the AFFS call a Demi-Brigade - one line regiment of 3 battalions, supported by 2 additional battalions to provide combined arms capacity - for example, an infantry regiment with attached battalions of artillery and tanks, or a 'Mech regiment with a wing of aerospace fighters and a helicopter battalion. There are a lot of variations of this but generally a brigade has 2 demi-brigades, then a division has 3 brigades (10 regiments, with 4 broken up to provide the battalion attachments for the other 6).
The SLDF, per canon, works out fairly similarly in the field by attaching elements of the division-level specialists to line regiments. However, because each of their brigades is 3 line regiments, an SLDF Division works out as 4/3rds the size of an AFFS division. SLDF independent regiments tend to have additional battalions permanently attached, making them roughly equivalent to a demi-brigade so the AFFS TO&E is something of a compromise between having a division structure and independent regiments.
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Here's the original[/i] thread and ideas for this. (http://bg.battletech.com/forums/index.php?topic=21243.0)
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Hmmm, just reread this bit:
Heatsink components, specifically, now that they can’t import from the Hegemony. It’s going to be another four months before we have enough endo-steel coming from our new orbital factories to fill the demand.
I thought Cray was clear that DHS don't require endo-steel components?
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The ease with which the double heat sink can be built ensured that even the poorest Periphery world had the ability to produce it for its armed forces so long as the endo-steel frame for the heat sink was available.
Era Report 2750 indicates at least some quantity and variation of endosteel is required for DHS although it may not be same variety as that used for 'Mech structure and it may not be a huge proportion.
It could have been retconned but I'm going what my copies say.
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Here's the thread (http://bg.battletech.com/forums/index.php?topic=59498.msg1367397#msg1367397) where it came up, and ER2750 was cited by the other side of the argument. Not trying to change your mind here, just let you know what was said about the subject.
I love this story!
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New Haifa, Robinson
Draconis March, Federated Suns
24 June 2768
There might have been more obvious ambushes laid in history but Susan had trouble thinking of one.
“If you keep sitting me next to Jimmy Wolfe, then I may wind up punching him,” she warned her mother.
“Why would you do that?” Sarah Sandoval asked in bemusement. “He’s such a pleasant young man.”
Susan rolled her eyes. “Yes, as long as you don’t hear him tell the same joke over and over again. I’m aware the First Dragoons have a wolf on their banner but it’s not as if it really represents his family.”
“I’m sure you can break him of the habit without breaking his jaw,” Reuben offered. Another jaw of the trap was her brother being at home when she got here on her long-awaited leave. They hadn’t met since their unexpected clash during the GALAHAD exercises and she’d thought that the reshuffling of the March’s internal boundaries would be keeping him busy since his Eighth Chevaliers were stationed on Mayetta, command world for one of the new PDZs.
“It’s a very breakable jaw,” she said. “Look, I know keeping Woodbine sweet is important to Dad, but just sit one of us somewhere else. I’ve only got five more days before I head back to Goshen.”
Her mother and brother exchanged looks. “Susan, please don’t be difficult.”
With a roll of her eyes she set aside the magazine she’d been planning to take down to the beach. “Fair warning, mother. I’ll see you when I get back from surfing.”
“What happened to just lazing around this afternoon?” asked Reuben, “Didn’t you say that was your plan until dinner?”
“Yeah, well after lunch I have some aggression to work off. Better to take it out on the surf than father’s guests.”
The ducal manor at New Haifa had been the original home of the Sandovals. While formal administration had shifted inland during the reign of the Leightons and Rostovs who’d used Robinson as their capital during the era of the Terran March, the Sandovals kept their roots here. Reuben and Susan had been raised in the planetary capital but this was always their favourite retreat between school semesters.
Stepping off the path down to the boathouse, Susan ignored the grass whipping around her ankles and hiked up the hill where she could take cover behind the trees and look down on the estate. Up above her were the security posts of the perimeter, but even from only a few dozen metres up she had a sweeping view of the main house and the sprawl of guest-wings, staff-housing and other structures that she’d run and played amongst as a girl.
It disappointed her to see Count James Wolfe jogging up from the beach a few minutes later. That he headed for the boathouse rather than the main buildings just confirmed her suspicions.
Taking a deep breath she worked her way back down the hill to the small suite she’d claimed after graduating from Albion back in ’58. This wasn’t going to be a conversation she wanted to have wearing a sarong and a bikini.
It only took twenty minutes to change and track her father down in the library. Arguing with Reuben or mother wouldn’t get to the root of the problem. Even if Reuben had ostensibly invited James Wolfe, their father was the one who’d introduced him to the then heir to Woodbine, years ago. The friendship made sense to cultivate – Woodbine’s rulers carried weight in the outer reaches of the Draconis March, always a problem since the centre of power had shifted towards the Terran end of the region.
But this was a step further politically and there was no way that Reuben could have talked mother into playing along without at least consulting the Duke.
“Good afternoon, father.”
“Susan!” He looked up warmly from the map spread out on the library’s main table. “I don’t see you often in here. Finally run out of water sports to fill your days?”
“A change is as good as a rest.” She looked at the markings of the plastic-covered sheets. “Is that an old Terran Alliance map?”
“Yes, standard issue for Terran Alliance marines stationed here in the early twenty-third century,” he said cheerfully. “I think it might be the only authentic hardcopy left for Robinson. Fascinating to see what’s changed and what their cartographers simply missed.”
“Speaking of missing things, did Reuben forget to tell Jimmy Wolfe about the ‘no playing footsie where it might cause a scandal rule’ that you set down when we were old enough to notice the opposite sex? Or did someone waive that rule and not tell me?”
Her father removed his glasses and polished them with a cloth for a moment. “You’re closer to thirty than twenty now and your brother’s the far side of that. I do believe that you’re both capable of discretion.”
“And who do you mean by both of us? Me and Reuben, or me and…? Mother’s seating arrangements have been unusually fixed since I got here. Woodbine and Goshen are a long way apart so I’m not likely to see him again for years, if ever.”
The question hung between them and then he shifted his shoulders slightly and directed her to a chair. “Leftenant Colonel by twenty-eight is an accomplishment. I’m very proud of you,” Vasily told her. “But those who can do more are called to do more and it’s time for you to come home.”
“I’m a soldier, I follow my regiment.”
“I understand you wanted to make your own mark, and you have. I wouldn’t offer you this just as my daughter, but the Twenty-Second Chevaliers need a new Colonel.”
“The Twenty-Second are stationed on Woodbine?”
“Yes, they needed somewhere stable to rebuild and the First Prince has agreed that they won’t be redeployed for five years.”
“I only made Leftenant Colonel last year.”
“It’s more than within my discretion to arrange the promotion, and don’t pretend you’re not qualified. Don’t worry, I wouldn’t be looking over your shoulder – Woodbine’s actually further away than Goshen is.”
Sarah shook her head. “Five years is a long time, especially when there’s a war being fought.”
“Time to settle down; maybe – just maybe – have a family.” Her father shrugged. “I’m not forcing James on you, but it would help if you at least have a friendly relationship with the ruler of the world you’re stationed on.”
“Is Reuben getting the same treatment?”
“Your brother’s been short-listed for Brigadier-General, although I’d rather he didn’t learn that just yet.” Vasily smiled a little slyly. “I’m saving it for his birthday. Once that’s confirmed his next tour will be with the Clovis brigade of the March Militia.”
“I’m surprised you’re not offering me his regiment,” Susan joked.
Her father laughed. “No, that wouldn’t work. Putting you in his shoes never did and I know it.”
“Are you saying I’ve got big feet?”
“Well, not you but perhaps your ‘Mech,” he teased. “Ninety tons is a touch on the heavy side.”
“Thankfully I’ve been assigned a replacement,” she told him. “In order to simplify some of the issues supplying the SLDF, they’ve relaxed a few regulations and by the time I’m back on Goshen I should have a factory-fresh Cestus waiting for me. At long last a ‘Mech that can hit sixty without having to jump off something.”
Her father’s face tightened. “When I said the Twenty-Second need a colonel, I mean now. So you won’t need to go back to Goshen. The transfer can be approved by the end of the week and your promotion would be applied by the time you reach Woodbine.”
“That’s a little sudden!” Susan protested. “There are things to do back on Goshen. I’d be leaving the First without their exec after barely a year on the job.”
“Susan, you’ve had ten years away. The Chevaliers… the Draconis March… needs you. It’s time for you to answer that call rather than running off to the far corners of the Suns.”
“The Suns also needs me,” she said stubbornly. “And since Personnel are keeping me with the Dragoons it’s pretty clear where they want me. Or are you going to tell me that the Draconis March’s needs take priority?”
“For a Sandoval, absolutely! It’s our responsibility to serve the Federated Suns as the champions of the Draconis March against enemies external and internal. Not the Capellan March or the Crucis March, which have their own advocates.” Her father pushed his chair back. “Or does that duty mean nothing to you?”
“My duty means more to me than being your coin to buy Woodbine’s favour,” she snarled back. Her chair tipped backwards as she came to her feet. “How dare you ask me to abandon my comrades for your political gain?” Somewhere at the back of her head, alarm bells were warning that people outside the library might hear them.
“I would never put myself before you!” His face was florid with outrage. “We have responsibilities as well as privileges, Susan!”
“And you pulling strings to promote me isn’t a privilege?” She stabbed one finger towards him. “When I’m done wiping the asses of your toy soldiers I’ll be ready to spawn you some grandchildren, is that it?”
“Don’t you talk to me like that!”
Susan planted both hands on the table, not caring that she was putting pressure on the ancient plastic. “Fine.”
“Fine?”
“Fine,” she confirmed. “There’s clearly no use talking to you.” Pushing off from the table – and inadvertently sliding the map towards her father – she turned on her heel. It wouldn’t take fifteen minutes to have her bags packed and she could find somewhere else to stay if there wasn’t a place available on an earlier ship to Goshen.
.o0O0o.
Terra Prime, Apollo
Apollo Province, Rim Worlds Republic
5 July 2768
The body of Mohammed Selim had been removed from where Stefan Amaris’ unfortunate regent had been hung after a mob of Rim Republic Army-led citizens had stormed the government buildings.
That didn’t mean the mood of the capital had settled. Some were still hunting Amaris supporters’ hiding places but others had begun to wonder what would happen next. This wasn’t the first time the SLDF had come to Apollo with fire and fury, although on that occasion they’d been there to reinstate the rule of House Amaris, not to obliterate it.
Phillip Drummond found it darkly amusing that right now he was probably safer here surrounded by SLDF soldiers than he would have been in the little redoubt still waiting for him in the mountains. Such boltholes were exactly what hundreds of other officers and bureaucrats of the old regime were looking for and there were few lengths that the mobs would not go to in order to get hold of those people, particularly since popular legend had it that the former elite were taking small fortunes with them to finance new lives once matters had settled down.
Personally he doubted the last part. Amaris had even emptied the government vaults of germanium and other precious but less useful metals when he departed for the Hegemony.
There were two other men in the room, a SLDF Lieutenant with Logistics Command tabs and a bearded civilian who’d barely looked up from his noteputer when Phillip entered.
“Please come with me, gentlemen,” a voice invited from the door. The speaker was a sharply-uniformed woman wearing the unit patches of the Eighteenth Royal Mechanized Infantry Division on her uniform. As far as Phillip knew, no such unit was still operating as part of the SLDF forces in the city, predominantly II Corps of the Twelfth Army. Despite wearing dress uniform, she carried a very functional looking shotgun slung from one shoulder on an assault-rig.
“Don’t mention the patches,” the SLDF officer who’d been waiting with him advised quietly as they followed the woman through the building.
Phillip glanced sideways, annoyed that his attention had been picked up on. “Sore subject?”
“Twelfth Army consolidated two Corps together after they pulled out of the Magistracy last year. Out of nine divisions, only three were judged fit to be reconstituted. The Eighteenth Royals weren’t one of them – all that’s left is a regiment assigned to guard the General.”
There was no need to guess about who was meant by ‘the’ General and if that wasn’t enough of a hint, the woman threw open the doors to an ornate audience chamber typical of the Amaris palace and revealed the slightly-built Commanding General sitting at a desk poring over the data of a dozen holo displays. “General Kerensky, your guests.”
“Thank you, Teresa,” he said warmly, looking away from the screens. Pushing his chair back – a simple office chair rather than the pseudo-antique engraved wood that fit with the desk and was now pushed back into a corner where it supported a neurohelmet and a flak vest – Kerensky rose to his feet. “Please come in gentlemen, I apologise for the wait.”
“I’m quite literally at your disposal, General,” Phillip answered drily when neither of the other men responded verbally.
“That’ll be all, Teresa.”
“Sir,” the woman protested from behind them.
Unless the civilian was more dangerous than he appeared – unlikely, Phillip thought, looking at the posture and build – the concern was more than likely directed at him.
“If you’re concerned for my safety, Teresa, you can issue Major Drummond with a pistol. He’s quite the shot. Otherwise get some sleep, please. We’ve a busy few days and I’ll be relying on you in much more dangerous conditions than these.”
The door closed and Kerensky pushed his chair over to four others clustered around a steel and plastic coffee table that had obviously been salvaged from somewhere else. “Mr Blake, Lieutenant Karrige, Major Drummond. I have rather a task for you.”
“Involving HPGs, I assume.” The civilian made a depreciating face. “The station here will be fully functional within a fortnight so elsewhere?”
“That is correct, yes. To provide introductions, Mr Blake is from the Ministry of Communications, one of the top engineers available outside of the Hegemony. Lieutenant Karrige’s come here from overseeing battlefield salvage operations with Army Group Eleven and his last posting before then was New Syrtis, while Major Drummond recently joined us from the Rim Worlds Army, he’s also got an overlooked background in intelligence operations.”
“That sounds mysterious, sir,” Karrige said wryly.
“There’s a difference in nature between the courage to face the Usurper’s forces in open battle and to enter the heart of his power alone.” Kerensky gave Drummond a respectful look. “But the magnitude is no less. If you’d succeeded then we might be in a very different place right now.”
“If.”
Blake twisted his hands, seeming not to know what to do them. “I don’t follow.”
“If it wasn’t for a… well, ******-up is all I can call it – Stefan Amaris would have died in a dropship accident about a year ago.”
“It’s for the ability to survive such a ‘******-up’ that I’ve chosen you for this mission, Major. I trust that a transfer in your existing grade to the SLDF won’t be unwelcome.”
“Very welcome indeed.”
“Excellent, the paperwork will be ready when you leave.” Kerensky leant back in his chair a little. “While operations in the Republic are far from over and it will take time – a painfully long time – to prepare our forces for the main effort against the Hegemony, there are several issues that are already evident in communicating with the Army Group already engaged there.”
“Without the Hegemony’s stations, all contact has to loop through the other Member-States to reach us here. The length of those lines of communication will shorten once my headquarters leaves the Republic but only establishing a direct link through the Hegemony’s own worlds will remove our dependence upon the other states, and we must assume that HPG stations will be severely damaged in the process of liberating Hegemony worlds. That’s certainly been the case so far.”
“At this time, our relations with House Marik and House Kurita are… unpredictable. It isn’t impossible that our message traffic through either state may be compromised, either in security or delivery. There is a smaller, but existing threat of such problems within the Capellan Confederation and the Lyran Commonwealth.”
Karrige shook his head. “I don’t see the solution, but I assume that Mr Blake can provide one.”
“Automated relay stations,” the engineer replied absently. “I worked on some preliminary designs for a back-up military network independent of the civilian HPGs. The idea was considered in the 2720s but cancelled as no real need was envisaged. There was a design study ten years ago for more limited networks through the Periphery states but the funding wasn’t there.”
“Precisely so. The difficulty is that if even one such satellite is found and recovered intact then it would endanger the rest of the network and the Republic doesn’t have the facilities to build such devices.”
“I take it that we’ll be heading to the Suns then?” asked Drummond.
“Correct. Mr Blake will be in charge of devising the satellites and placing them in production. Lieutenant Karrige’s contacts should allow him to secure the materials needed without drawing attention and you, Major, are responsible for ensuring that the satellites are prepared without information about the leaking to either Amaris or the House Lords.” Kerensky paused. “That includes Lord Davion. While he’s certainly our supporter, letting him have direct access to HPG technology would likely alienate his peers. I don’t expect that he’ll look too closely, for that very reason, but not all of his people will be as scrupulous.”
-
Camp Jordan, Kilarney
Free Barony of Kilarney, Free Worlds League
19 August 2768
There was a bittersweet feeling in the area as Ethan Moreau’s class received their graduation papers and rank pins. Ordinarily the classes still undergoing training would have been marched in formation to stand witness as the class of ’68 formally completed both the Mechwarrior and leadership courses.
But there were no such classes.
The drain had begun the year before as facilities were closed down through the Camp. With the war in the Magistracy over and the Amaris Coup shifting, some adjustment was no doubt necessary but then instructors were replaced or simply reassigned without filling the vacancy. At the start of 2768, several courses were cut and entire classes part-way through their Mechwarrior training were informed they’d complete their training elsewhere.
It wasn’t until March that it was confirmed – the training base was to be shut down and all classes due to graduate after the end of the summer were being transferred. Some were going to training camps established in the newly liberated Rim Worlds Republic, others to schools still operating in the Suns but by the start of June only four classes remained at the once bustling school.
Already FWLM personnel were at work. Ethan still remembered the first sight of officers of the house military inspecting the facilities. It seemed that the base wasn’t even being simply closed down against future need. Instead it was being sold off entirely.
The last two months had seen the cadets and their last instructors all but confined to barracks and a single classroom block. The Mechwarrior training had ended, with three classes boarding a chartered transport – not even a SLDF dropship – and despatched to Sixth Army in the Hegemony as replacements. Surrounded on all sides by technicians stripping out equipment for use elsewhere and FWLM work crews repurposing stripped buildings, morale had been on the floor.
“Chin up, lad.” Lieutenant General Fletcher gave Ethan a pat on the sleeves. “This isn’t the end of the road, just a turning point.”
The young Mechwarrior forced a smile for the sake of the school’s director. Replacing another temporary commander for the last few weeks hardly seemed like a worthwhile endeavour, but the infantry officer had taken over the leadership classes himself, throwing open the floor to discussions of everything from small unit tactics to the politics of the entire League.
“There are more important things to worry about than one small facility in the corner of one Member-State,” he’d declared from the lecturer’s podium. “These are the times that test men’s souls. Does it gripe me that we’re selling this place off? A little, but what does that matter compared to the billions living in chains under Amaris’ rule? For better or for worse, you and I will be going to war soon. A war that will shape the next few centuries of human history. Don’t worry about what we can’t change, take hold of what you can and shape it as you must.”
Stepping aside, Ethan joined the small crowd of his class who’d already received their commissions.
“Moreau?” It wasn’t a loud voice, just carrying over the sound of the remaining presentations.
Looking for a source, he saw a single officer who wasn’t wearing then olive of the SLDF. A purple-trimmed white jacket and pants, gold over-trousers stretching up to the thighs - Ethan had to fight not to show his annoyance that an officer of the Free Worlds League Military had intruded even into this.
“Moreau,” the voice called again.
Turning back to the stage, Ethan tried to ignore the voice. It could wait, at least. There were only ten more personnel.
The third time the voice was closer. “Ethan Moreau.”
Gritting his teeth, the newly minted lieutenant looked sideways. “Yes?” he hissed.
“How’d you get through Mechwarrior training if you’re hard of hearing?” the man said quietly.
Around him, Ethan could practically feel the eyes of his classmates. “How did you get to Force Commander without any grasp of decorum?” he replied, just as quietly.
“You can blame your teacher for that. Made it real hard to speak to you.”
“Then you can wait until we’re done.”
The officer shrugged. “This is the one place I was sure I could catch you before you ship tomorrow.”
Ethan glared at him but the man at least fell silent until the last of the new officers had been sworn in. Then he grasped Ethan’s arm. “Now, come with me.”
“And where do you think you’re going with my officer?” Fletcher demanded, following the last graduate down towards his former students. “This is still our base until 1200 hours tomorrow and I can still throw you off it. And I do mean throw.”
“Just across the way. It’s in the lines of a civil affairs chat.”
Ethan pulled his arm free. “Whatever you have to say, say it here.”
“Very well. I don’t know if you’ve been keeping track but this is a courtesy visit to ensure you’re aware of the Abbey District Assembly have passed Amendment 14B6 of their Militia Act.”
“Which means…?” The Militia Act was the fundamental law behind the operation of the Abbey District Militia, the province’s native military force. Ethan wasn’t familiar with the amendment though.
The officer shook his head. “I see. Well, until now the ADM had a policy of offering all SLDF veterans from Abbey District enlistment at their final rank as of discharge and irrelevant of whether they hold reservist status or not.”
“Until now?” asked Fletcher warily.
“After the number of ADM personnel who’ve been recalled to SLDF service, Amendment 14B6 has struck down provision for SLDF personnel, reservists or otherwise, to serve with the ADM. Apparently the Assembly don’t feel they can rely on them to serve their province anymore.” The FWLM officer smiled thinly.
“I see. Is that all?” Ethan hid the sting of rejection. He’d always vaguely thought that if he lived to retirement, thirty or forty years from now, he might look for a place with the militia.
“And to let you know that if you are looking at your options down the road, the Free Worlds League Military won’t be passing such a short-sighted regulation.” The officer looked around at the other young lieutenants. “When you’re done with the SLDF you can always come home to us.”
.o0O0o.
Atreus City, Atreus
Marik Commonwealth Free Worlds League
10 October 2768
The new Captain-General hadn’t moved into his predecessor’s quarters in the executive wing of the Parliament complex. While Ewan Marik hadn’t used them much when he dealt with Parliament, preferring an estate outside of the city, the apartments had still been stripped and for a while there had even been talking about demolishing the building and constructing a new one in its place.
Edward Hughes could only feel sympathy for the Society for the Preservation of Historic Atreus. They’d saved the elegant building first erected for Juliano Marik and the other founders of the League, but the man they’d saved it from was vindictive by nature. Somewhere, somehow, they would be made to pay for thwarting him.
Kenyon Marik now made his lair on the uppermost floor of the building, which Edward remembered had been repurposed as office space by Brion Marik after he usurped the position of Captain-General from his brother Carlos. Before then they’d been guest suites for ‘companions’ of high ministers within the administration of the Free World’s League. It was possible that the young Kenyon was unaware of the original purpose… or perhaps he was all too aware.
“You’re here to talk about taxes again,” the man in question said abruptly from where he sat, framed by one of the arched windows. He had a book open in front of him, the binding matching that of other volumes shelved along with window-sill. Looking at the spines, Hughes saw without surprise that they were a collection of commentaries on Shakespeare’s plays. “Seeing what else you can squeeze out of my people.”
“An army is expensive to operate. I believe that would be why your predecessor agreed to levies upon the Periphery to find the expansion of the Free Worlds League Military.”
“The most expensive army in history.” The Marik flipped the page of his book, apparently dividing his attention. “SAFE tells me that the Rim Worlds is defended by only a handful of divisions but Kerensky needs millions of men to subdue them. Perhaps he should feed his men captured Republican rations. It seems to make his enemies fight with the strength of a hundred.”
“He is, of course, without your advice on the matter.”
Marik looked up sharply, brows furrowed. “Yes. He is. I can justify the expenditure of part of my budget to purchase SLDF bases as improvements to our own infrastructure, but Parliament has good reason to question why we should pay trillions of dollars to the Star League when we receive so little in the way of benefits.”
“I would point out, sir, that the current economic issues rest to some degree on the loss of trade with the Hegemony. Removing Amaris is an investment in redressing that situation and my office is asking for no more than the taxes that your nation’s worlds are due to pay.”
“My ancestors gave your League the option of having us collect the taxes for you but the Camerons preferred to send their tax collectors to each world without intermediaries. Surely what was good enough for such giants as Albert Marik and Ian Cameron must also be good enough for us. If your own system isn’t producing the desired results then that’s really the consequence of your own decisions and I would be wiser to give you free room to move. Perhaps you could ask General Watanabe to detach some of his regiments to act as your tax collectors. I’m sure that Parliament will be delighted to know that Star League soldiers are shaking down their homeworlds for money you’ll be spending in the Federated Suns.”
“Whatever gave you that idea, your excellency?”
The Marik closed his book abruptly. “Kallon Industries have extensive facilities in my realm, sufficient that I’m aware that their branch on Talon is building a new Wolverine model for the SLDF and the AFFS, just one example of the contracts being offered to Davion firms and yet I see no similar requests of Kallon’s branch here. And who funds all of this? The common taxpayer of the League. As their Captain-General, I must demand to know where their money is being spent.”
Hughes felt a surge of contempt. “Kallon is a branch of Earthwerks Incorporated, your excellency. If they haven’t reported and paid taxes on the rushed orders for more ‘Mechs from their Keystone factory then your accountants may wish to investigate. Similarly Irian BattleMechs and many other SLDF suppliers. You are correct though, that these investments are significantly lower than those in the Suns.”
“Aha!” The Captain-General slammed the flat of his hand against his desk. “I knew Kerensky was favouring his so trustworthy ally!”
“Administrator Green is able to fund more extensive activities in the Suns than any of my peers for two reasons, neither of which General Kerensky plays a part in,” Hughes told him. He held up one finger. “Firstly, the worlds of the Federated Suns continue to pay taxes to the Star League in full. While the economic conditions have reduced his income, it’s far closer to the levels of two years ago than any other state can claim. I’m far from the only one having to sell off Star League assets to maintain operations.”
“Yes, I heard that Barbara Liao has added ten destroyers to her fleet,” Marik noted with a scowl. “Ships that have been stationed along my border.”
“Obsolete ships that were being reconditioned for service in the Periphery. Contracts that might have been open to your own shipyards if they’d expressed an interest, but alas your own navy’s needs left them unable to take on the work.”
“Apparently they shouldn’t have bothered with all that hard work, just sat back and waited for the Star League to give me ships on a platter.”
There were many things Edward Hughes wanted to say in response. That the SLDF wouldn’t be giving up the destroyers if they had the slightest choice was only the first. They – and those in Combine yards – had effectively been confiscated by the Capellan Confederation Navy and Draconis Combine Admiralty respectively.
House Kurita had made a token payment to the SLDF at the time but the Chancellor had tried to claim they were in settlement of late payment of the repair costs until General Kerensky had sent a stern note, suggesting that if the laws of property were no longer in effect then the SLDF could restore order. How much of that was a bluff, Hughes was unsure. Presumably the Chancellor wasn’t sure either but she’d paid compensation in thousands of tons of badly needed supplies so the matter had been allowed to drop. The two House Lords had still managed to boost their navies by paying pennies on the dollar for the ships.
“The Federated Suns branch of the Bureau also doesn’t have to cover legal costs for thousands of lawsuits being brought against them. It seems that the First Prince is reaping the rewards of supporting Administrator Green in the current situation, whereas in other realms we’ve had no choice but to cut funding to hundreds of programmes and default on obligations just to maintain operations,” he continued, aware he was letting bitterness leak into his voice. “Apparently just because the planetary government of Manotick isn’t willing to pay taxes to the Star League doesn’t mean they’re unwilling to champion the men and women we’ve had to lay off because we don’t have the money to pay them.”
“You make it sound as if you’re hovering on the brink of bankruptcy rather than handling the second greatest budget in the Free Worlds League, second only to the national one.”
Hughes caught himself from saying something very unwise about how much of that budget was servicing short-term loans from banks House Marik had interests in, taken out to cover redundancy pay-outs incurred in the first half of 2767. “Then I’ve managed to convey our position, Captain-General.”
“I’m not unsympathetic, but I have my own budget to consider and with the SLDF focused on the Hegemony and the Republic, the FWLM has to stretch to cover the League against raiders.” Kenyon Marik seemed far smugger than he did sympathetic. “I will speak to Parliament and ask Members to pressure their governments to seek out-of-court settlements of the suits being pressed against your offices. That should at least allow you to cut the ongoing legal costs.”
At the cost of paying the settlements, which will probably wind up gutting the remaining administrative infrastructure, Hughes thought darkly. But however useful prime office buildings would be in reconstructing the Star League’s bureaucracy after the war, right now they were sitting empty and there were higher priorities for funding than keeping the utilities paid on them. “That would be beneficial, thank you.”
“Of course. Now if you’ll excuse me, the business of government…”
Hughes rose from his seat. “Good day, Kenyon Marik.”
He almost thought he imagined the murmur of “It truly is,” from behind him as he left. Almost.
-
nice updates. boy is the captain a Berkeley for sure. nice to see mr blake seen in the story and how hanse will react to meeting the person behind comstar to start.
-
Ouch, destroyers to the CCAF & DCMA...
-
SLS Camino Real, Addicks Orbit
Lockdale Province, Terran Hegemony
4 November 2768
“We’ve done well in liberating six more worlds from Republican forces,” Admiral Brandt advised the council. She directed their attention to the map at the front of the briefing chamber. “With the experience on Addicks and Tigress, Fourth Army was able to reduce Angol’s Castles Brian well ahead of schedule and secure the rimwards flank of our operations.”
“So far, Amaris has restricted himself to probing at the defences of the liberated worlds. It seems that intelligence reports are correct and he’s continuing to direct a significant portion of his reserves towards reinforcing the core worlds and his other frontiers rather than committing to try to defeat our Army Group in isolation.”
“Under the circumstances, the possibility of pressing harder and wheeling up through the centre of the province to liberate the pocket between Tigress and Epsilon Eridani has been put before the strategic staff. After careful thought it’s been decided that we won’t do this, as we’re already leaning on Second Army for garrisons. Capellan behaviour doesn’t lead me to believe that the Fifth Army can be similarly weakened in the Confederation until we have more forces in theatre.”
“As such, our goals for the next year are going to shift focus to the worlds along the Combine border.”
All eyes went to the map and several eyebrows rose. General Chudzik was the one who voiced the obvious concern. “Are you talking about Al Na’ir, admiral?”
“I am,” she agreed unflinchingly. “Until now both we and Amaris have been working on the basis that the SDS systems make worlds effectively unassailable. While exercises have shown the defences to be substantial, that’s never really been put to the test.”
Brandt looked around the room. “We always knew the day would come when we’d need to take a world protected by these systems. Well, the time is here. Aside from liberating Al Na’ir and its resources, this will serve two purposes. Firstly, we’ll have data on how the defences operate under real world conditions that Kerensky will need before we engage the even heavier defences around Terra. Secondly, we’ll shake Amaris up. So far he’s been able to use systems with SDS as bastions to build his defences around. Now we’ll take that confidence away from him.”
“None of the systems we’ve taken are in jump-range of Al Na’ir,” the new commander of Sixth Army noted. “And there are three worlds between us. Will we be bypassing them and using a deep space staging area?”
“No, general.” Brandt zoomed the map in on the region. “The first stage of the operation will be the liberation of Towne, Pokhara and Murchison by your own command, along with the Seventh and Nineteenth Armies. Ideally Murchison will act as a staging area to reach Al Na’ir but if operations there don’t proceed well, either of the other two worlds will serve.”
“As soon as we have a staging area secured, Third Fleet will act as a spearhead to begin operations within the Al Na’ir system. For those unfamiliar, Al Na’ir itself is unterraformed and the cities there are enclosed. The wealth of the system is in mining operations scattered across the entire star system. While Republican forces are believed to only be garrisoning key nodes and defensive structures – including the SDS control centres – there’s a very real possibility we’ll need to secure mining operations across hundreds of asteroids and moons. For this reason, armoured and infantry units will be of limited use in ground operations. General Lucas?”
Jack Lucas rose. “The 123rd Jump Infantry Division has been bringing their exo-atmospheric training up to par over the last month in preparation for this operation, as have all fifteen ‘Mech regiments in the other Divisions of LXIX Corps. They’ll act as our first wave with the balance of Third Army acting as a reserve for operations on Murchison, Pokhara and Towne.”
“Fourth Army is primarily committed to protecting the liberated worlds during these operations but General Baptiste has agreed to reorganise and concentrate her six brigades of jump infantry in reserve. In the event that the 123rd requires further infantry support we can call on them for reinforcements. Hopefully there won’t be any further instances like Ankaa where extra infantry are needed in order to keep the peace.”
“At the least, I think the message that the AFFS aren’t here to invade seems to have sunk in,” Chudzik replied. “The relief convoys from the Suns have helped a great deal and we’re circulating news of damage done by the Rim Worlders on Ozawa as a case in point. Footage of Feddie volunteers working alongside the Ozawans to restore their space ports has done more the pacify Ankaa than another four infantry divisions would have.”
Lucas looked over at Admiral Dokovic, representing Third Fleet. While Brandt had commandeered Fourth Fleet’s flagship as her own after Admiral Marina Akkayev-Cameron had been confirmed as missing – she’d attended her distant cousin’s Christmas celebrations on Terra two years before and not been seen since – the bulk of the Star League Navy’s forces under the Army Group were built around Renata Dokovic’s Third Fleet, reinforced with myriad flotillas assembled from the garrison fleet. “Admiral, will Federated Suns warships be participating in the operation?”
Dokovic shook her head. “Prince Davion has confirmed that his navy are available for such operations, including the first wave if necessary -” If the jump points used were defended then the first wave of attack could be expected to take heavy losses. “- but they don’t have many heavy ships suitable for such operations and we haven’t had the opportunity to train alongside them yet. I’d be open to that in the future but right now I’m assigning the FSN squadron under Admiral Moore to escort Sixth Army’s transports over Pokhara.”
”They won’t be able to handle a major fleet operation if Amaris’ ships at Al Na’ir are sent after them.”
“That’s the same situation as if the Rimmers strike at Murchison or Towne,” she told him matter-of-factly. “We’ll be dividing Nineteenth Fleet between those operations. Eleventh Fleet is stretched to cover the rest of our area of operations so if Amaris does do that we’ll delay the Al Na’ir attack so that Third Fleet can reinforce the threatened system and destroy Amaris’ mobile forces while they’re outside the SDS defences. It would be an ideal opportunity.”
“A little rough on whoever gets bounced,” Baptiste muttered.
Brandt shrugged. “If we can’t take a joke we shouldn’t be doing this. And John Davion was all in favour of pulling Rim Worlders out of their defences so we needn’t expect any protests from him if Moore does draw such an attack.”
“You’re just predisposed to like her because her flagship is a carrier,” Dokovic said drily.
“Do you know how many fighters she has on that thing? A hundred and eighty with a full war load!” Brandt rolled her eyes heavenwards. “Why don’t we have ships like that?”
“We tried. It was one of the more notable debacles in navy history, since the damned thing broke down before it was out of its construction docks. At least a McKenna can defend itself once another warship is in weapon’s range, not to mention carry enough fuel and munitions to supply its fighter wings for a useful amount of time.”
.o0O0o.
SLS Camino Real, Al Na’ir System
Lockdale Province, Terran Hegemony
21 December 2768
“Multiple drive flares, relative direction 179 by 005.”
No fighter pilot could ever be sanguine about someone popping up ‘on their six’ and Joan Brandt was no exception. “Range? Numbers?”
“Correlating data from the fleet… approximately a million kilometres.” The sensor officer studied the data. “Numbers are high, one hundred warships minimum, at least as many dropships.”
The admiral gripped her seat. “And vector?”
“Intercept course. They’re making roughly thirty mps-squared.”
“Admiral Brandt?” her communications chief reported. “Admiral Dokovic for you.”
“Put her through.”
Third Fleet’s commander seemed calm on the screen. “It seems they want to catch us before we reach the inner system,” she noted blandly.
Due to the size of its star and the immense number of asteroids in the Al Na’ir system, many of them in orbits straying significantly above the orbital plane, jumping to transitory points was immensely hazardous and the standard jump points were three weeks from the one more or less habitable world at standard 9.8 mps-squared accelerations.
Moving at three times that made it clear who it was behind them – human crews could only accept that acceleration for a limited time span and very few SLDF ships could attain it, a number that didn’t include the battleships that the two Admirals were aboard. But however many Republican warships were in system, the primary defence of Al Na’ir was the fleet of drone warships and dropships stationed here. Autonomous save for strategic direction, there were no crews aboard that might protest the punishing acceleration.
“The Caspars might be able to hit that acceleration but they can’t keep it up forever. The on-board fuel stores are finite,” Brandt observed thoughtfully. “They must have been lurking behind the jump-point waiting for us to arrive and move away so they could cut us off from retreat.”
The other woman smiled coldly. “We didn’t come here to retreat.”
“Indeed not.” The sang-froid masked a degree of concern though – Third Fleet had only eighty-six warships and slightly more than twice as many assault dropships to escort the transports needed to liberate Al Na’ir. “Their tactics are predictable: after making up ground they’ll match velocity and try to wear down rearmost ships with slashing attacks.”
“I’ll deploy our screen accordingly,” Dokovic confirmed and then, as if waiting for a challenge. “The Camino Real will take up position with the van.”
Brandt’s eyes narrowed but she said nothing. There could be more ships ahead after all and one of the two Admirals should be kept out of the initial clash, even if it galled her to be placed in the position of guard-dog for the glorified ferries carrying Lucas’ ‘Mechs and infantry.
Seeing that Brandt wasn’t going to challenge her, Dokovic nodded. “As most of the drones don’t have capacity to carry fighters; this seems like an ideal situation to use our own. I request authorisation for nuclear payloads.”
“Authorisation confirmed. We’re well clear of civilians, I can think of no better time.”
.o0O0o.
The ten squadrons chosen for the strike were Rapiers, escorted in by an equal number of Hellcat IIs. As they flipped over and used their drives to begin bleeding off Third Fleet’s velocity and close in on the pursuers, dozens more fighters launched from cruisers and destroyers to maintain a combat patrol around the fleet’s formation. After all, they could be wrong about the prospect of drone-fighters.
Brandt watched on a repeater screen as the formations closed in. The Hellcats, with their advanced sensors, sent back a stream of data to refine that gathered already.
One hundred and forty-eight M-5 Caspar drones, exactly half of Al Na’ir’s reported strength, escorted by twice as many of the much smaller M-3 drones. The 4,000 ton drones were operating in squadrons of six and she was uncomfortably aware that they, like the Pentagon-class dropships of her own screen – had a thrust-to-mass ratio comparable to the fighters. And the drones had no crews to suffer accelerations of up to fifty-five mps-squared.
The M-3s showed that, pushing ahead of their capital ships to engage the fighters. That was fine – as much as Brandt wanted to get rid of the destroyer-sized M-5s, she’d agreed with Dokovic that thinning the M-3 numbers would probably be necessary first.
The Hellcats didn’t pull aside for the Rapiers, instead as the drones closed up they went to meet them, replying on their lasers to bleed the drones before the Rapiers made the killing blows.
As the attack developed, Brandt saw the fighters were already beginning to vanish from the display. Some of them briefly showed damage markers, but such cripples were quickly singled out for finishing shots by the computers aboard the drones.
“They’re being slaughtered!” someone exclaimed.
Then the Rapiers reached engagement range and the Hellcats had done their job, drawing fire to the point that only a single Rapier had been destroyed before it could fire.
Visible light and surges of microwave activity marked detonations as Alamo nuclear missiles exploded against the armoured hulls of the M-3s. Freed of their cumbersome external payloads, the Rapiers darted into evasive manoeuvres as they tried to escape the weapon brackets of the surviving drones.
There were far too many of those survivors, Brandt saw. While the remaining Hellcats could detect damage, only a dozen of the M-3s were adrift or had broken up. As many as half of the missiles must have missed, she realised. And worse – even those that succeeded in striking home had more or often than not failed to deliver complete kills.
The fighters clawed for velocity but the M-3 drones clung tenaciously to them. More than thirty Hellcats had been destroyed to get the Rapiers into range but the numbers continued to climb as the M-3s surged after them, ripping into the rear of the tattered formations. Behind them the M-5s were firing their drives and moving in pursuit – not as fast but their capital lasers had far more range than those of their escorts and even a single hit was fatal to the heavy fighters.
“They’re boring in.” Brandt could hear the sick certainty in her own voice. Physics was unforgiving and the Rapiers didn’t have the thrust to escape the pursuit. We didn’t give that enough consideration, she thought. I was too sure our fighters would have the agility advantage, but the drones don’t care that they’re throwing 4,000 ton dropships around like 40 ton fighters, it’s within the drive’s theoretical limits so why wouldn’t they do it?
Behind her, Dokovic’s line squadrons were turning to bring broadsides to bear on the inbound drones. The heavy turreted guns would reap a bloody harvest on the M-3s – she had six McKenna-class battleships (including her own flagship, SLS Iona) and three Cameron-class battlecruisers to anchor the rear-guard of the fleet, along with their escorting frigates and cruisers.
The clock reported that it took a full hour for the two fleets to reach gunnery range. Something deep inside the admiral attested that the clock lied. The agonising slaughter of the Rapiers and those Hellcats that had been too close to the M-3s as they mounted their pursuit seemed to play out interminably for her. Only when the shots at the scattered handful of survivors proved futile – so few, barely six squadrons left out of forty! – did the M-3s cut their drives and form up again as a bloodied but undaunted vanguard to the wall of Caspars behind them.
M-5 drones. Built on the hull frames of Lola-class fast destroyers. Without the need for life support or for the deep cargo holds required for long-range operations the weapon payload could be much heavier than their manned counterparts. And while the ships of Dokovic’s fleet were bound together by morale and training, the M-5s were tied into a single tactical network of super-computers.
First Lord Jonathan Cameron had ordered the creation of the M-series drones to finally devise killers more deadly than even mankind. The M-5 wasn’t the last of the series but it was without doubt the sharpened edge of that intent.
Now they would find out how it measured up.
Sixty-three never-wracking minutes after the fighter strike’s failure, Third Fleet opened fire into the squadrons of M-3 drones. Particle beams, heavy naval autocannon and nuclear warheads ten times more powerful than those a fighter could carry pulverised the dropships.
But moments later the M-5 drones were able to return fire and Renata Dokovic’s heavy ships were forced to switch their targets, leaving the smaller drones to destroyers, corvettes and even Pentagon-class assault dropships in favour of killing the real threat.
The rear of Third Fleet was engulfed in fire, a morass of indicators – friendly and hostile – dropping out of contact as they were destroyed or simply lost sight of in the storm of both intentional jamming and of the microwave pulses of nuclear detonation. Often the ships would be re-acquired moments later… but not always.
Ruthlessly calculating machines met grim and all too human determination…
Air-venting ships bucked under fantastic impacts. Mortally wounded vessels drove closer to fire one last salvo at suicidally close ranges, manned ships no less eager to sell their lives dearly than the drones.
...and after fifteen heart-wrenching moments, some cost-loss ratio was met within the advanced tactical network of the drones and the M-5s changed course and opened the range, still escorted by a fragmentary escorting wave of M-3s.
There were gaping holes in that formation. As the last shots struck or, more often, missed it was possible for the command systems of the Camine Real to calculate the price the SLDF had charged.
Ninety-seven M-5s were pulling away. Mostly undamaged, for the wounded among their fleet had acted as a suicidal rear-guard to let their comrades break contact. Only one hundred and four M-3s still played escort and few of them were as lucky.
“Orders, admiral?”
“Pull the heavy ships into the centre of the formation and push our dropships further out,” Brandt ordered. “I want a three squadron group of interceptors to shadow the drones from outside their weapons range, in case they try to get out of sensor-lock. There could be a resupply base in the asteroids where they can refuel and reload for another round.”
We’ve killed a third of their Caspars but this is only part of their defences and they’ve pulled back for a reason, she thought. And we’ve paid for that. Paid so much.
There had been thirty-one ships in the Twenty-First Strike Squadron and the Thirty-First Battle Squadron that had made up Dokovic’s line. Now only nineteen battered ships remained… and SLS Iona wasn’t one of them.
-
FSS Tancredi, Al Na’ir System
Lockdale Province, Terran Hegemony
18 January 2769
It had taken time to put together a relief force and there were only three squadrons in the grandly named Second Fleet. The original Second Fleet hadn’t survived the coup intact and surviving squadrons and divisions had been added to whatever other fleets they were nearest. Still, the designation was available and this was loosely what could be considered the old Second Fleet’s operational area.
Vice Admiral Furnshill’s Forty-Third Interdiction Squadron had been part of the pre-War Fourth Fleet, familiar with patrolling the Combine’s borders. With Al Na’ir positioned on the Hegemony’s border they’d at least visited the system within the last decade. That was more than could be said of the 112th Escort Squadron under Vice Admiral Willingham but they’d a lot of experience in the Hyades Cluster with asteroid-dense systems so Admiral Belleau had detached his own 192nd Escort Squadron to take over the convoy support role and put Willingham under Furnshill’s command.
And then there are us, Kenneth Jones mused.
FSS Tancredi was still Nike Moore’s flagship but a thin fourth band had joined the three broad ones already on her epaulettes after Ozawa, marking promotion to Admiral. In addition to the Arthur and Katherine Davion, two escort divisions had been placed under Moore’s command. Long obsolete, the four cruisers and two destroyers couldn’t possibly keep pace if Tancredi and her division maneuvered hard but there was no faulting the willingness of the crews.
“The enemy’s location is confirmed. We have contact with Admiral Brandt.”
“Understood,” Jones confirmed. He wasn’t privy to the communications yet, possibly not even Admiral Moore was yet, but the fact that contact had been established was enough to know that at least thus far, matters were following the plan. “Give me the plot.”
The tactical display lit up, showing Al Na’ir itself, two ominously crimson clouds of icons indicating the defenders – the remaining drone fleet, predominantly pulled from the jump-point used by Second Fleet to enter the system, and around half their number of manned warships.
Brandt had correctly predicted that the RWN had divided the drones between the two jump-points and brought the un-engaged half to reinforce the inner system once it was clear the half engaging her wouldn’t stop Third Fleet from reaching Al Na’ir. Left unguarded, there had been nothing to stop Second Fleet from arriving except a tiny picket force.
Admiral Furnshill’s solution to that had answered Jones’ questions about the Q-ships that he’d fought in the Ozawa system. The SLN called them Nightwing surveillance ships, pre-League starships equipped with hidden weapons and sensors that had acted as the Hegemony’s eyes and ears in the space ways of their neighbours for generations. As such ships became rarer in the Inner Sphere, the Star League had retired most and the few that remained had been out in the Periphery until lately.
Amaris had apparently pulled some out of the mothballed reserve fleet to supplement his own fleet. It was amusing to turn it back on him – the first hint that the pair of Bonaventure-class corvettes had received that all was not well with the new arrival who’d been using IFF signals obtained from the Ozawa wrecks was when jamming cut them off from Al Na’ir and the SLN commander had taken his tiny ship between the two of them, opening up with broadsides while the two of them dared not return fire in case they hit each other.
“Interesting that the Republican ships are staying clear of the drones.” Jones focused the display on them for a moment. “There are more than expected, too. And is that a Monsoon battleship in the middle of their formation? Amaris is digging every relic he can find out of mothballs.”
“Captain Jones.” Nike Moore’s face popped up on the flag-bridge display. “Admiral Brandt has decided on OpPlan Gradient. Are our fighters ready?”
Jones looked over at Weiss Plains’ position and then nodded. “I hope her ships are ready.”
“I’m assured of clear decks at their end.”
The Commodore winced at the implication of how depleted Third Fleet’s aerospace complement must be. “Then we can launch as soon as the word is given.”
“Do it.”
“Commodore Plains. Launch your birds for OpPlan Gradient.” The situation called for a little formality, in his view.
“Sir.” Plains adjusted her headset and gave the necessary commands. Almost immediately the tiny specs of friendly fighters began forming up ahead of not only the Tancredi but her escorts. Only two squadrons were being held back – the Baron-class destroyers FSS John Lennon and FSS William Shakespeare only carried six fighters each and it had been agreed that integrating them into the wings of other ships could cause confusion so they’d remain as a marginal combat aerospace patrol for the FSN squadron. Otherwise the combined aero-wings of all nine warships and twenty-two dropships were being committed.
Over six hundred Federated Suns fighters began to slowly pull away from their carriers as Moore’s squadron continued to decelerate from their run in-system. Furnshill’s own ships were launching their half of the operation, although even with their own Titan dropships, they couldn’t match the FSN’s contribution.
“All Song-class ships report no problems with the launches,” Plains reported.
“Not bad for their first big outing,” replied Jones. The Song-class was intended as one of a series of home-built battalion transports for the AFFS. Unfortunately production hadn’t been ready for the war and even the ships attached to Moore’s squadron weren’t complete – the desperate need for naval support during the initial liberation efforts had had the first dozen outfitted for carrier operations only and sent to the frontlines.
Some of those now in service were fully fitted out, but this would be the first time in Jones’ experience of using them that they’d managed to launch all their fighters without a catapult failure.
On the display, Third Fleet were manoeuvring to bypass Al Na’ir – OpPlan Gradient explicitly gave up on trying to reclaim the world for now – and the drones were moving to block them. The Rim Worlders were also moving, but much more tentatively.
“Those fellows don’t seem to want to get to grips,” Moore noted as they watched the fleets manoeuvre.
Jones waggled his head from side to side. “They’ve been told how massively superior the Caspars are to manned ships, but Third Fleet’s destroyed three of the drones for every warship they’ve lost. If I was them I’d want to finish grinding down the SLDF before getting to grips with myself.”
“It’s stupid – they’d lose most of their drones even if they won.”
“Better drones than their lives. After the last few weeks, the last thing they’d want to do is engage the SLDF with their current force strength – they don’t even have a two-to-one numerical advantage.”
The truth was that Brandt’s ships and their valiant crews were almost spent. Half her ships had been destroyed in combat or scuttled due to damage. According to her reports, not one warship had avoided damage over the continued clashes since entering Al Na’ir. Few battles had been as large as the first but a succession of smaller attacks had eaten away at ammunition and fuel as much as they had armour and drives. They had one fight left in them… maybe. And by the time the drones behind them had been destroyed, it had been easier to commit to punching through the inner system to the jump point beyond that than it would have been to turn around.
As ever in a large battle, time seemed to crawl. Jones kept one eye on the tactical display and pulled up routine paperwork. Some of it might not matter by the time this encounter was done with but better to have it out of the way. And besides, looking calm was part of his job now.
The defenders were treating the inbound relief force with lordly disdain – they were too far away, after all. Simply by slowing down to reach Al Na’ir in something approaching useful combat speeds they’d ensured they’d arrive well after Third Fleet. No, better to finish off the original enemy and then handle the new arrivals.
One advantage of the drones over manned warships was that unlike the Republican fleet they never neglected to watch all directions. Thus, they were the first to spot the inbound fighters and begin adjusting their screening elements.
It was too late of course, but they did manage it.
Moving well above normal combat speeds, more than a thousand aerospace fighters slashed through the drone’s formation, carefully drawn into position by Brandt’s manoeuvres. Whether it was the fault of the SDS command centre on the surface of Al Na’ir or the drones themselves, their positioning had turned out to be a little predictable.
At this huge closing speed, any shot that hit them was virtually guaranteed to destroy the fighters, but by the same virtue it was almost impossible for such a hit to be scored. And as they crossed the formation, each fighter launched the nuclear missile they were carrying.
Almost eighty percent of the missiles were off-target. Some were fired too soon, others too late. In the vastness of space, some simply didn’t lock onto the ship desired (although due to pilot error or sheer luck, four of the Caspars and one M-3 took direct hits from missiles not intended for them).
But that still meant that two hundred missiles did score hits and their targets were six ships that had subtly different electronic signatures. Third Fleet had had weeks to isolate those distinctions and the data had been sent via their on-board HPGs back to Second Fleet.
Six M-5C drones, carrying the computers that knit the drone fleet into a single cohesive whole, each struck by at least twenty nuclear weapons. In four cases at least one missile punched through the armoured hull and detonated inside the hulls, explosions tearing back outwards with all the subtlety of an axe. One was adrift – hull and weapons largely intact but the massive thruster array at the stern melted to uselessness by multiple warheads. And the last emerged from a cloud of wreckage, under power and fully armed despite the great craters blasted into its armour… but blind and helpless for every sensor and communications array across its hull had been scoured away the fury of the missiles.
Not stopping to see the results of their work, the fighters streaked onwards and only when they were well clear of the drones did they begin applying their thrusters to the vital task of slowing down to rendezvous with Third Fleet. Each fighter had been chosen for this – Sparrowhawks and Centurions that could provide the brutal seventy plus mps-squared delta-v necessary.
“Fourteen losses,” Plains reported quietly.
“Regrettable, but necessary.” Jones studied the screen. There was already raggedness to the formation of the drones. “They’ll still fight, they’ll fight hard. But now they’ll fight as individuals not as a co-ordinated force.”
Admiral Moore nodded. “And we’ll fight too. Admiral Furnshill has ordered her carrier dropships to form on us and to keep the range open. I’ve detached our escort divisions to support her in the main thrust.”
Third Fleet had altered course now, taking advantage of the drone’s disorder. Now they’d slingshot around Al Na’ir’s largest moon while Third Fleet used the planet itself. They’d briefly bracket the Rim Worlders between them and then be directed back outwards towards the jump point.
“After the return pass we’ll need to fall back on conventional strikes,” Jones warned. “Third Fleet can’t give our fighters the needed boost except during the slingshot.”
The M-5 drones were already recognising the changed circumstances, one at a time, and changing course. The M-3 drones escorting them apparently found a different solution and accelerated towards Al Na’ir’s moon to attempt an interception at during the sling-shot. Jones checked the direction of the Caspars and nodded. “Divide and conquer – the M-5 drones know they can’t intercept Brandt now, so they’re changing course to engage Third Fleet instead.”
Moore shrugged. “That’s an acceptable risk. Furnhill’s fleet is fresh and now they don’t have their command ships. Can they engage us?”
Jones didn’t have to run the calculations, he’d already checked. “Not if we move to fifteen or twenty mps-squared – which our ships can take easily. Crews won’t like it but…”
“Better than dead,” his commander shrugged. “Do it.”
.o0O0o.
Terra Prime, Apollo
Apollo Province, Rim Worlds Republic
29 January 2769
“Third Fleet made it out with thirty operational ships, by a very generous appreciation of operational,” DeChevilier reported grimly. “Nine of the losses were ramming by M-3 drones, including the Camino Real. Four thousand tons at that sort of closing speed isn’t survivable, even by a battleship.”
Kerensky nodded slowly. “We knew the Space Defense Systems would be a problem. I don’t think we appreciated quite how bad it would be. How about Second Fleet?”
“Twenty-seven ships and I think their repair estimates are more realistic.” The Deputy Commanding General made a face. “Six of the losses were FSN ships, two with all hands. It’s a fraction of the whole but…”
“That’s almost a tenth of their warship strength.”
“Seems to be a tradition. Remember Tentativa, back in the Reunification War?”
“Not the same at all,” the smaller man said sharply. “Tentativa was a defeat. This is a victory, albeit at terrible cost.”
“We didn’t take Al Na’ir. Fourteen battalions of troops destroyed aboard their transports – half a division in practical terms. Victory?”
“Losses have been worse against Castles Brian here and in the Hegemony.” Kerensky drew himself up and forced himself to add: “And they will continue to be high. Seventy-two warships destroyed and more than fifty in need of repairs is a high price to pay but the enemy losses were much higher. Almost three hundred M-5 drones and as many M-3s, the Republican fleet too battered to pursue.”
“They held the system,” DeChevilier chided him. “And Joan Brandt…”
“We cannot afford a defeat, so we cannot call it that.” The general rubbed his brow. “John Davion is familiar with… flexible objectives. This was a reconnaissance in force, a testing of the SDS so that we may prepare for operations in the future. In destroying so many drones and gathering invaluable intelligence data, Joan succeeded brilliantly.”
“…yes sir.”
“Posthumously, she will receive the Medal of Valour.”
“Her husband is on New Earth, by last report.”
“Yes, Admiral Peterson’s son. One of the old naval dynasties. Hopefully he has avoided Amaris’ commissars.”
DeChevilier thought of his own family. Intelligence from within the Hegemony had reported the creation of a new government agency, the Office of Policy and Doctrine. It was an innocuous name for a paramilitary force of nebulous mission. At least part of its purpose was rounding up SLDF personnel still at large on Amaris-held worlds – and they drew little line between active personnel, the retired… or dependent families. “So we all pray.”
They stood together, where Stefan Amaris or at least one of his high ministers must have stood at one time or another, sharing in that ugly mood without words.
“You’ve decided to leave Davion in command then?” asked DeChevilier mildly.
“He was her formal deputy and so long as he doesn’t try to take field command, I think he will do well. Baptiste will remain ground commander, after all.”
“And the navy? Belleau is senior.”
“He’s a good man, yes… I would like to promote Janos Grec but Belleau is ready for more responsibility.” Kerensky frowned. “It would not do to hold him back. You can manage him.”
“Me?”
“Yes. We will need a few months to finish reducing the last strongholds of the Republicans but the time has come to look towards opening a second front in the Hegemony. When that time comes, I want you to be in command of our thrust out the Suns.”
“I could take a ship now. Follow our supply lines as far as Skye and cut across Marik’s space with a battle squadron. He’d not dare stop me and we need to reinforce the fleets under Davion’s Army Group.”
“In time, yes. But firstly I need you here to help me prepare our strategy and we must consider how the SDS drones can be better dealt with. Even one ship for every four of them is a price we cannot afford – there were almost seven thousand M-5 drones across the Hegemony and production of M-3 drones is distressingly easy, Amaris could build almost any number of them.” Kerensky shook his head. “We must devise a method first and then… and then you will depart.”
“You’re trusting him with a quarter of the SLDF.” DeChevilier laughed bitterly. “Well, a quarter of what remains.”
“He is an honourable man.”
“So was Brutus.”
The Commanding General of the SLDF shook his head. “He is no Brutus, much less a Caesar, Aaron. His ambition, such as it is, are for the Star League first, his own realm next and only then for himself. He is a rare ally in these times.”
“Rare? Yes, I will agree that allies are rare birds these days. But that’s a low bar. We’ve almost had more help from the damned Taurians than we’ve had from Kenyon Marik and it’s been two years and Minoru Kurita hasn’t said a damn word to you. Not one word!”
Kerensky nodded wearily. “Yet nor has he hindered those who have come of their own will to help us. Remember that.”
“Oh yes, the ronin, the masterless men who’ve been duelling ours for a century and who the Kurita’s have piously protested they cannot restrain. Well, he’s no hypocrite, I’ll grant him that much. Who else is there? The Archon, who won’t help us for spite of you? The Chancellor, who won’t help us for spite of the First Prince.” DeChevilier seemed to run down. “I don’t know, Alek. I think he’s the best of a bad bunch, but I can’t help but think he’s known more about what was going in than he’s ever told us.”
“Let me name another for your list. Lucien Dormax, who is trying desperately to hold the Rim Worlds together for us.”
“And you don’t think he’s ambitious? He needs us. God, and when we embark for Terra what happens here? He’s only clinging to power because of us and the people who’ve joined us here don’t love the League, they just hate Amaris. If we pull out entirely there’ll be a firestorm.”
“We won’t pull out entirely.” Kerensky shook his head. “We’ll need the supplies from here, the facilities. The money, to be brutally honest. At least two armies will need to remain here to hold matters together.”
“You’re probably right, but that’ll mean we need to weaken some of the garrison armies to reinforce the troops on the frontlines.”
His commander gave him a wan smile. “That’s the thinking I need at my side right now. Twelve months, Aaron. John Davion will do us no wrong in that time. And if it makes Minoru Kurita and Barbara Liao nervous, that may not be such a bad thing. When they have done half so much for us as House Davion has in this terrible time, then I shall treat their complaints seriously.”
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Brutal, and well told! O0
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Nice analysis, worthy of the SLDF Commanding General. wonderful writing D!
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And so the price gets ever steeper.
Great writing, Drak.
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I love the smell of burning Caspars in the morning. O0
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sweet, davion is in charge? the SLDF will have new found respect for the man no doubt. :)
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sweet, davion is in charge? the SLDF will have new found respect for the man no doubt. :)
You mean "The Davions"? two heads are better than one, even if one is intangible
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Army Group Eleven Headquarters, New Rhodes III
Lockdale Province, Terran Hegemony
20 February 2769
One advantage of the new, highly secret HPG satellites that the SLDF was beginning to seed the Hegemony with – the ones John was politely pretending not to know about – was that real-time contact was possible with the army and fleet commanders without actually recalling them from their respective headquarters.
John did his best to keep a straight face as Hanse tried to tug on Jerome Blake’s short dark beard. “Blake’s beard!” the ghost declared loudly. “Literally, Blake’s beard!”
“It’s alright, Mr Blake,” John told the engineer, cutting off a convoluted and no doubt entirely fabricated explanation as to how this was allegedly being relayed. “I’m not a hyperspace physicist and I don’t really need to know how you’re doing this. You’ve assured me it’ll work and your expertise speaks for itself.”
“Ah. Well, I’ll… I’ll go oversee the uplink then.”
“Thank you for your hard work,” the prince told him and they shook hands before the engineer left. “Are you sure that’s the man who founded a religion?” he asked under his breath.
“Not founded, just inspired. No one much would remember Jesus if it wasn’t for Saint Paul and Blake would likely be a… well, not a footnote but a fairly short entry if it wasn’t for Toyama.”
“I’m fairly sure the first part of that was sacrilegious. When did you last go to confession?”
“Last Sunday, but the priest didn’t set me any penance.” The redhead winked. “Sometimes I’m not sure he’s even listening.”
The warning light lit up and John refrained from further comment. A moment later the camera presumably started working, for the holograms of officers began to appear along the table. In one case the projector hadn’t been aligned correctly, leaving General Lucas slightly overlapping Admiral Thomas Belleau. In another the relative positions hadn’t been accounted for, because General Simons and Admiral Moore greeted each other while appearing to both be addressing General Baptiste’s seat.
Still, they were all visible to each other. That was all that was really required.
“Ladies and gentlemen.” John tapped the table lightly with one finger and was pleased that the officers fell silent. “I’ve called you together to discuss our plans for the next few months.”
“Respectfully, sir, I hope that won’t be anything too ambitious. We’re a little limited in the available warships at the moment.”
“That, Admiral Belleau, is a question of what would be ‘too ambitious’. So let us set some boundaries. Admiral Brandt’s gallant actions over the winter have shown that we’re not yet ready to engage one of the worlds with a major SDS presence. It’s certainly possible that Al Na’ir itself has been reduced to a relatively soft target but I don’t wish to chance that until we have more information. I hope that you’re all comfortable with that decision.”
There were quiet murmurs of agreement.
“On the other hand, as much as General Kerensky may describe the outcome of the battle as a victory, there is no guarantee that Stefan Amaris will feel that way. He may in fact feel that he’s broken our momentum and that the time is ripe for a counter-attack.”
“Do you think that this is likely?” asked General Simons politely. The commander of the AFFS Expeditionary Corps was coming along nicely in the opinion of both John and Hanse.
“I don’t, but events have shown that Amaris and I don’t agree on everything. There is sufficient risk that I’m of the opinion that Third and Fourth Army will need to remain in reserve for the next few months to ensure the security of the liberated worlds. From what I understand, civil affairs are coming along well and the thirteen planetary governments no longer need day to day support from the SLDF but it’ll be a while before their militias are ready to defend them.”
Jack Lucas put both hands on the table. “Marshal Davion, the Third and Fourth are the strongest armies in your command. We’re the best suited to spearhead offensives.”
“That’s true, but you did exactly that on Addicks and Tigress, costing both of you troops and equipment that are still being worked up as replacements. When we resume the main offensive – which I fully expect to be before the end of the year – I will want you and General Baptiste in the lead, which requires giving your men time to rest and prepare. Believe me; you’ll have all the action you can ask for.” John gave the general a firm look and was gratified to see him subside.
“General Hallestrom?”
The officer straightened. “Sir.”
“The first of the operations we’ll be looking at is the liberation of Yangtze. Nineteenth Army did well on Towne and I’m entrusting them with this as their next mission.”
“Sir.” The stone-faced general nodded firmly.
“General Lucas’ Army will be taking over from you on Towne. Coordinate handing over your responsibilities there with him and arrange movement orders and a preliminary plan by the end of the month. I won’t hold your hand, I’m sure you and your troops know what to do without me trying to second-guess you at all times.”
There might have been a slight degree of appreciation on Hallestrom’s face, but perhaps not. It was hard to say and John decided to leave well enough alone.
“Yangtze is our objective for March, but we’ll need to keep the pressure on so the following month I’m tasking Seventh Army with taking Quentin.”
“That’s quite an aggressive move,” General Huong admitted forthrightly. “T here’s no Castle Brian to worry about but given the ‘Mech factory there, Amaris will have a strong garrison there.”
“While Third Army will be handling security, there’s at least a small hope that Amaris will think we’re shifting focus back to the left flank with Nineteenth Army taking Yangtze. We shouldn’t seriously expect them to lower their guard on Quentin though, since they’re only one jump from your current position on Pokhara. Sixth Army will be acting as a reserve.”
“March and April,” General Baptiste said lightly. “Do you have plans for May too?”
“Yes, that should be enough to persuade Amaris that any weakness on our part is a figment of his analysts’ over-active imaginations.”
“Well where is it? Deneb Kaitos?” asked Lucas.
“Nice place,” Hanse mused. “They joined the Federated Suns in our history, after the Exodus. Amaris had withdrawn his forces to shorten his defensive perimeter, but as they left they laid waste to the world.” His face tightened. “Among other things, using chemical agents to poison the farmlands. All they asked you for was to be fed.”
“Not just yet, unfortunately.” John had to force himself to keep from reacting. “Taking Quentin opens up a more strategic objective for us. One of the major contractors in the development of the SDS was Nirasaki Computers Collective, based – unsurprisingly given the name - upon Nirasaki. Until now we’ve confined ourselves to liberating worlds in Lockdale Province so there’s a very good chance that Amaris won’t expect us to extend our operations.”
“Do you think they’ll have a counter to the drones?” asked Belleau eagerly.
“I doubt there’s a perfect counter, save for the traditional methods, but there may be data we can use to reduce their effectiveness. As uncomfortable as it may make some of you -” John directed a wintry smile at the SLDF majority “- Admiral Grec is heading up a special project to develop and weapons and tactics to use against the drones, including the possibility of building limited capacity drones of our own.”
“You’d use those things?” asked Admiral Moore in horror.
“Admiral I will do anything I must to save the Star League. I’d even work with Liao or Kurita if they offered, although admittedly I feel fairly safe from having to follow through with that.”
.o0O0o.
Fort Sullivan, Cartago
Draconis March, Federated Suns
3 March 2769
“I’ve got a mix of news for you, Ken.”
The senior officer’s mess was nicely appointed but it just felt wrong to Jones. Something about the gravity, or possibly the floor to ceiling windows looking out on a lush garden. Anything that reminded him he was planet bound.
It took him a moment to register that Admiral Moore had used his first name. “Good and bad or staid and shocking.”
“I’d say just about all four.” She sipped her coffee and then set it down. “I’m sorry to say I’ll be losing you as my flag-captain.”
“Well we’ve been serving together a while now, Admiral. Nothing lasts forever in the navy.” He used the napkin to wipe the corner of his lips, using the gesture to cover for tweaking the end of his moustache. “Is that a transfer for me or for me?”
“Both of us, actually. With such heavy losses to the squadron I’ve been called back to New Avalon for a desk posting.” She made a helpless gesture. “I’m not being benched as such, but they want me on Admiral Grec’s joint committee about the drones and there are only so many squadron commands to go around.”
“I doubt this war will end quickly,” he observed quietly. “And I doubt the Prince would pass up an experienced commander when there’s another opening.”
“Thank you,” Moore agreed with less confidence than he’d hoped to instil. “We’ll see. Admiral Goto seems quite upset at no less than six ships vanishing from his operational planning.”
“I’d imagine with the shipyards ticking over that should be taken care of.” Ken thought back to the construction plans underway. “Just in the next two years we’ll have five more ships in service.”
“Which is still one down from where we were on the first of this year.” She shrugged. “Anyway, Tancredi and her squadron are rotating to the Draconis Squadron for the next tour and your crew is going to be raided for cadres I’m afraid.”
“Just when I had everything the way I wanted,” he sighed. “Well, I’ve not done that tour before.”
“Yes, well I’m afraid you won’t be going with her.”
Jones paused as he was about to lift the coffee cup. “I beg your pardon?”
“I made the point, quite sharply, that the four divisions being sent to replace us won’t have any field experience at all in their command post. I’m afraid I may have overplayed that point, because Admiral Goto decided that Commodore Plains is ready to move up and take over the Tancredi, leaving you free for reassignment.”
“A new ship? Well, I suppose it’s flattering to be considered to have useful experience.” The Tancredi’s crew had begun to feel like a family to him, albeit a sprawling and sometimes dysfunctional one. The ship and her fighters had been a smoothly functional instrument in their hands and he had to struggle for composure at the prospect of leaving. “Did he mention which ship?”
“I gather you’ll be aboard the FSS William D Porter.”
“The Wee Willie?” Jones stared at the coffee cup. “I think I may need something stronger.”
Among the oldest ships in the FSN, the William D Porter had been launched from a Terran shipyard in 2380 for service in the Terran Hegemony Navy. By all accounts she’d had a good, if not outstanding record with that service until she was decommissioned in 2531 as obsolete. Forty years in mothballs hadn’t done a thing for the Aegis-class cruiser though and since being re-activated and transferred to the AFFS during the Reunification Wars she’d become known for reasons that no one wanted to be associated with.
She had, for example, been escorting Prince Alexander’s son and grandson in 2596 when their jumpship inexplicably went missing between one system and the next, never to be seen again. And then there was the time her port-bow missile launchers had suddenly opened fire, emptying the magazines before anyone managed to shut them down. Thirty extremely expensive missiles had narrowly missed the battlecruiser transporting the then SLDF Commanding General, Killian Squarn-Turk. Given the incident was immediately following Edict of 2650, real suspicion had existed that the crew was involved in an assassination plot and every officer aboard had been beached for the rest of their careers.
“I think a drink is very much in order,” agreed Moore. She beckoned to the waiter. “Two whiskeys, neat.”
The service was just as excellent as the decoration and two glasses were procured in less than a minute. Jones raised his glass. “To the Wee Willie, may she vent her temper only on the enemy and not her blameless captain.”
Moore drank to that and then raised her own glass. “To the good fortune of the Porter now she’s a flagship, Admiral Jones.”
The glass was halfway back to his lips before he caught that and he paused to give her a very direct look.
“Oh, hahaha, you really thought we were dumping you off a fleet carrier to command that glorified frigate?” she asked. “No, the Porter is flagship of your division. Welcome to the admiralty, Rear Admiral Jones.”
.o0O0o.
Steel Valley, Quentin IV
Lockdale Province, Terran Hegemony
11 April 2769
As the fighting around the MechWorks died down, Ethan limped his Orion behind one of the sub-assembly buildings before taking his hands off the controls and stretching. He’d kill for a shower right now, but that wasn’t happening.
There wasn’t a part of his ‘Mech where the armour wasn’t in the amber on his data display and he was almost out of ammunition for his LRM launcher and autocannon. “Company check,” he called out. “Who needs armour patching and ammo?”
The reports from the other five ‘Mechs was fairly similar, except that he was the only one who’d had his rear armour targeted when Republican helicopters had risked a low pass over the factory, relying on the fact they were in Vectors, ubiquitous in SLDF use, to avoid suspicion until they dropped saboteur squads and opened fire.
The thought reminded him and Ethan switched channel to speak to the armoured support. “I’m calling in for fresh ammunition and repairs. Do you want me to call in the same for you?”
“Appreciated, Moreau,” Lieutenant Pritchard replied. “We could do with ten tons of cluster ammunition, five of LRMs and, ****** Koopman, yes I remember. We also need a fuel truck. I swear, who thought putting diesel engines in a tank was a good idea?”
Ethan had to bite back a grin. Pritchard was just as new as he was to the 225th BattleMech Division; the division had taken losses in the Periphery and again on Tigress. The second rebuilding had meant absorbing survivors of the Fourth Regimental Combat Team as well as fresh recruits like Ethan. He still wasn’t sure why the decorated tank commander had taken him under her wing but her griping about the replacement for her crew’s Demon was a familiar refrain. “I think it predates the fusion reactor, Pritchard.”
“I could believe it with this heap of Feddie crap.”
Privately, Ethan was quite happy to have the company of Culverins in the battle group. Entrenched in fighting positions, their twin autocannon were murderous and Pritchard’s tank alone had wiped out half the helicopter squadron, using the ramp of their fighting position to elevate their guns for the shots.
“I’ll put in a call,” he said, rather than challenging her.
“Thanks,” she said. “I know the griping’s getting old, kid, but if you lose your Orion, how would you feel about getting a… I dunno, some hand-me down from the AFFS stocks.”
“I’m pretty sure your Culverin’s fresh off the factory lines.”
“Not the point.”
There was a muffled sound from behind her.
“Yes, I know they’re starting to turn out Merkavas, Ranson. I don’t care if they have fusion reactors, those heaps were retired two hundred years ago.”
Ethan chuckled. “I’ll get back to you once I hear about the supplies.” Adjusting his radio he found the battle group’s staff channel. “Major Ericsson, this is Lieutenant Moreau. We’re quiet right now and could do with a re-supply if logistics can handle it.”
“Understood, Lieutenant,” the chief of staff confirmed. “We have a field repair team on their way back in, I’ll route them to you once they’re restocked. What do you need?
“Eight tons of LRMs, five tons standard class ten autocannon rounds and ten tons of cluster for the same. A fuel truck and some armour patching should set us straight.”
“What do you want a fuel truck for?” Ericsson demanded. “Your Orions don’t run on diesel, and I’m pretty sure none of them can fire cluster ammunition.”
“I’m batching Lieutenant Pritchard’s supplies with mine.”
“Pritchard? Oh right, Captain Gunnells got med-evaced, didn’t he? I’m surprised she didn’t put in for a dozen Demon tanks as well.”
Ethan snorted. “Do we have them in stock?”
“Not a chance, lieutenant. With Leopard Armor in Amaris’ hands, the only fresh Demons we’ll be seeing are in Republican hands. The intact armoured regiments are hanging onto theirs for dear life so stray battalions like the ones we have are out of luck.”
“I figured.”
“Ammunition though, we can provide. Expect trucks and techs in the next fifteen.”
“Thanks, sir.”
“It’s my job, lieutenant.” The major sounded tired. “If you live long enough, you’ll have to do some honest work too. In the meanwhile, keep your head. The Rimjobs are almost pocketed and we can’t rule out them trying some crazy break-out through the factories.”
“Through the defences here? They’d be crazy.”
“The factories we wouldn’t tac-nuke. If they concentrate for a push somewhere else, that option is on the table.”
Ethan blanched. “Sir, Quentin IV’s not exactly prime real-estate as it is. The locals won’t be happy if we start putting radioactive craters in the scenery.”
“That’s over your pay grade. Over mine too, but personally, if it means not rebuilding the Division a third time with strays and greenies – no offense – then I’m all in favour of some artificial sunshine.”
-
FSS William D Porter, Nirasaki
Lone Star Province, Terran Hegemony
15 May 2769
The M-3 drones were accelerating far faster than the Porter’s engines could possibly have propelled her. As Brandt’s unlucky heavy fighter wings had discovered, there were aerospace fighters that couldn’t handle like that in an exo-atmospheric environment.
Fortunately they weren’t trying anything quite that complicated and manoeuvring thrusters rolled the elderly cruiser on her side. “Targets entering broadside arc.”
Jones resisted the temptation to give orders. He wasn’t part of the crew now. For all his authority, a flag officer was a passenger in some respects.
There were sixteen autocannon along the Porter’s flank – older and smaller than the guns on modern combatants but the turrets blew three of the drones apart in a satisfactory fashion. A fourth spun wildly, guns still firing, after taking a hit from one of the laser turrets. The missiles missed wildly though. Something of a shame.
It was enough to disrupt the attack run though, the two intact drones had to adjust their course to avoid debris and that gave Porter’s escorts time to respond. FSS Reynard Davion wasn’t up to the standards of late model Davion-class destroyers – too old for the refits that had been carried out for the Arthur and Katherine Davion – but her captain had made the best of what he had and the prow autocannon were more of a brute force solution than a pair of 4,000 ton drones really required.
Not that Jones minded over-kill when it came to robotic killers intent on ramming the ship he was aboard.
“Good work,” he said quietly on the command channel. “But that was a side-show. The real fight is up ahead.”
The icons around Nirasaki were entirely too familiar – a Monsoon-class battleship surrounded by a mix of Rim Worlds and Terran hulls. More than half of the Rim fleet at Al Na’ir had still been ready for action when the ships of Second and Third Fleet withdrew. More than likely their damaged ships were still there but for whatever reason, forty ships had been pulled back here which meant that Nineteenth Fleet would have a fight on their hands before the ground forces could be landed.
Half of Nineteenth fleet, rather. The 192nd Escort squadron was still detached on convoy duty, the 191st was covering the transports and the 195th Reconnaissance squadron was currently probing Al Na’ir. That left two line squadrons – Belleau’s own 193rd and Hofmann’s 194th with twenty-nine ships between them – and the two six-ship squadrons of the AFFS attached to them.
“Jones.” The flag channel lit up, Admiral Paulette Benden was the senior of the two squadron commanders and Jones’ immediate superior. “Belleau’s given us responsibility for aerospace defence while his squadrons focus on shipping strikes. It’ll stretch our air groups so if any ships break past the Star League squadrons it’ll be up to you and Henderson’s divisions to cover us.”
“Aye, sir.” Jones understood the unspoken message: Belleau was putting his own squadrons on point and keeping the FSN in a secondary role, but at the same time he was tying FSS Pleiades and her sister ship FSS Kathil to stay in support range of the line squadrons. If they moved back to stay clear then they wouldn’t be able to rotate their fighters through a prolonged engagement.
Instinctively, the Star League Navy sought to hold their ships into a tight and mutually supporting formation. It was a sound doctrine, and it allowed them to deliver shattering blows, but it meant that the entire force would manoeuvre at the speed of the slowest ships.
Then Jones smiled depreciatingly. He was as responsible as anyone for the doctrine of the FSN, and now he was on one of those slower ships. “If that happens, my squadron will be ready.”
Neither of the two fleets was built for head on attacks. Their ships mounted their best firepower upon the flanks and thus they angled carefully towards each other, stacking ships in vertical slices – the heavier cruisers, battlecruisers and battleships, then the lighter destroyers, frigates and corvettes, finally the frontline of dropships screening them.
The SLN customarily pushed fighters out beyond that, but with the enemy clearly sighted, Benden had argued with and won her point – the FSN’s wings sheltered behind the dropships, waiting for a clear attack before they would move out and engage.
They didn’t have to wait long.
The Rim Worlds’ admiral could count – his flagship was the only battleship available to him, the bulk of his fleet’s firepower was a single over-sized squadron of Avatar-class cruisers and fully a quarter of their hulls were corvettes. An extended exchange of battery fire between the two fleets could have only one outcome.
As two fleets entered extreme weapons range of each other’s screening dropships, fighters began to stream from the Rim Worlds formation and Belleau ordered his own ships to respond in kind. Between them more than five hundred fighters headed into the ‘no man’s land’ between the two fleets, a region of space alive with missiles, fast moving explosive and kinetics, not to mention brief and invisible pulses of coherent light or charged particles.
Assault dropships added their own firepower to the mix, targeting the fighters just as enemy warships fought to suppress them and open a path for the fighters.
Fighters began to die, but dropships were being blasted too, tearing holes in the screens and Jones saw the Rim’s aerospace fighters punch through, towards the SLDF’s secondline. Darting from among the destroyers though were the first wave of fighters from the Pleiades and the Kathil. Only narrowly outnumbered, for the Rim Worlders had held part of their fighter force back to defend their own ships, they had the advantage of mobility over the missile-laden Rim fighters – and they weren’t trying to break through to engage the SLN’s heavy ships of the third line.
Either out of self-preservation or a last minute attempt to salvage part of the attack force, Rim fighters began to jettison missiles – or fire them off at any target in range – so they could turn and engage the Suns fighters… and the remaining wings of fighters were already launching from the carriers behind Wee Willie to join the fight.
Nuclear fireballs were beginning to mark the formations of warships, SLS Jules Verne blew apart – the unfortunate corvette had been nearest to the penetration of the first line and at least a dozen missiles had struck her.
Other SLN warships took hits and carried on, rolling their hulls to continue the engagement with the weapons and armour of unscarred flanks. Across the battlefield the Star League fighters unleashed their own missiles on corvettes and destroyers without trying to press further. Rim Worlds fighters slashed through their formations but numbers told, for here the defending fighters were outnumbered.
The clash was too intense and too distant for Jones to make out until the fury abated and almost two hundred SLN fighters roared back out of the maelstrom and into the space between the fleets. The dropships had reached their own engagement range now, much depleted by warship fire, and as capital weapons began to shift fire to warships, the surviving dropships turned their fire on each other, with little to spare for the fighters.
The Rim Worlds had claimed a second kill in the SLN lines, with the destroyer SLS Yeovil broken into three separate sections by missile hits. But less than thirty fighters lunged back for the safety of their own fleet, chased by more than a hundred FSN fighters… and the returning Star League fighters adjusted course to intercept them.
Jones didn’t see even one reach the questionable safety of their own lines and the Rim escort line had been brutally hammered by the fighter’s Alamo missiles. No more than twelve ships had survived that wave of attacks, bringing them to numerical parity with the SLN’s own escorts, and those survivors withered as the heavy ships closed in.
“Our first wave fighters are coming back to reload,” the airboss reported. Porter and her escorts could contribute no more than thirty fighters between them to the squadron’s aerospace strength and only twelve of them had been in the first wave. Now ten of those fighters returned slipping out from amid the formations returning to the Pleiades and the Kathil.
“Expedite them, we might need the cover.” The Rim fleet wasn’t trying to break off. The last pair of their destroyers formed up with the Monsoon-class – once SLS Thunderer she’d apparently been re-named AES Maxwell Rowe by the Usurper. To Jones’ amusement, the SLDF insisted on displaying the prefix as RWRS – Rim Worlds Republic Ship – rather than give any recognition to Amaris’ self-proclaimed empire by referring to the enemy vessels as Amaris Empire Ships.
Four Lola-class destroyers fell back behind Belleau’s main battle line and unlike the Rim fleet they didn’t attempt to maintain station. Already battered, the fast destroyers gathered what was left of the dropship wing around them and withdrew towards the FSN ships. They had no business in the brutal hammering of capital ships and unlike their counterparts they had somewhere else to go.
Anchored by the battleships Borodino and Pearl Harbour, the seventeen SLN warships – two more battleships, five Cameron-class battlecruisers and eight Sovetskii Soyuz heavy cruisers – opened fire on the Maxwell Rowe and the ten Avatar-class cruisers with her, not sparing the two battered Rim Worlds destroyers. The Rim warships returned their own broadsides and Jones grimaced – not even the entire FSN were it somehow assembled in once place, could have matched the intensity of this exchange.
Contrary to all expectations, the first warship to die was SLS Kharkov. The heavy cruiser had been singled out by the Maxwell Rowe and the battleship’s heavy autocannon smashed the smaller ship open from stem to stern.
The two Rim destroyers didn’t long survive the Star League cruiser but Jones saw that the Rim fleet were concentrating their fire on the heavy cruisers, ignoring the heavier ships in order to wear down the numbers of their adversaries. Kharkov’s sister-ship Kursk blew apart before the first of the Avatars died.
“And the Star League retired those ships?” Jones murmured in disbelief as the Rim heavy cruisers rolled to bring undamaged broadsides to bear.
Belleau’s own fire shifted and all four Star League battleships brought the Maxwell Rowe under fire, PPCs and lasers from the squadron tearing great glowing gouges in the hull as their autocannon shells smashed against it.
It seemed impossible that any ship could sustain that battering, but SLS Kiev too died to the Rowe’s broadside fire before finally, in a single cataclysmic detonation, the 1.3 million ton battleship met its end.
Leaderless, the Rim cruisers fire faltered. Two more of them blew apart as a pair of Cameron-class battlecruisers of the line closed in, relying on their heavier armour and the enemy focus on their own cruisers to survive the point-blank engagement.
The battlecruisers audacity succeeded in drawing the attention of the seven survivors and autocannon fire ripped into the flanks of the two ships as Belleau’s battleships and surviving cruisers moved up to outflank the remains of the Rim Worlds fleet.
All but forgotten amongst all the sound and fury, two wings of fighters from the Pleiades plunged into the fray and each had singled out one of the Avatars. Missiles lanced out, penetrating the damaged armour the cruisers were trying to shield from the Star League ships. Both cruisers burned from the inside out as nuclear warheads detonated within their hulls, two more battered to ruin came apart within a minute of the strike.
Before Kathil’s fighters could arrive for their own attack runs, the battle line completed its envelopment on the three remaining Rim ships. Englobed, the Avatars died defiantly, taking the battlecruiser SLS Saint John with them and reducing SLS Carlos Dangmar Lee, the other battlecruiser to dare their point-blank fury, to a bleeding wreck barely under power.
.o0O0o.
Army Group Eleven Headquarters, New Rhodes III
Lockdale Province, Terran Hegemony
15 June 2769
“One noteputer,” Gerik Chudzik reported bleakly. “We’d have done less damage to the NCC facilities if we’d had to fight for them. One of the most important computer research centres in the entire Hegemony and we could only recover one noteputer.”
“Amaris was thorough. That doesn’t surprise me,” John replied. “We cannot underestimate the man. I don’t know what I have to say to get this through people’s heads, but he is not stupid. Insane, possibly. Vicious, definitely. But not a fool. He knew just as much as we do that the drones are by far the most effective weapon in his arsenal.”
“As far as we can reconstruct, the site was stripped in ’67.” Chudzik shook his head. “Everyone there and every other computer was taken away, most likely to Terra. I shudder to think what they might develop for him.”
“I suspect that that would be a tertiary concern at best. Amaris would have been concerned first about restoring the SDS systems that were damaged in the coup, then about denying us potential access to the people who had the best chance of devising counters to the drones.” John shook his head. “And I doubt they co-operated.”
“Do you have a source of information?” asked Baptiste, who was physically present in his office unlike Chudzik.
“The noteputer we found was hidden deliberately,” explained Sixth Army’s commander. “A Doctor Glimp and several of her colleagues had realised that they were under observation and so they compiled everything they could think of that might be a vulnerability for the SDS systems they’d worked on. Hoping that it would be found after they’d gone.”
“I’d say that that’s a slim hope, but they were right. It has been found. Is there anything useful?” she asked hopefully.
John shrugged. “Their summaries don’t seem promising, but they’re the same people who brainstormed potential flaws during development to try to counter this sort of thing. A fresh set of eyes might find new approaches.”
“Like Admiral Grec’s team on New Avalon?”
“That’s one of them. I’ve told my son to round up the best minds in the Federated Suns to support the efforts. It’s a security hazard for you but General Kerensky has given his agreement that letting my people see data that might let us replicate the drones is worthwhile if it improves the chances of developing counter-measures.” John shook his head. “Anyway, we’re also sending a copy to the Rim Worlds for Kerensky’s own headquarters to look at. Admiral McTiernan agreed to let a courier use the hidden recharge stations so a dropship is on the way.”
“He protects those stations as if they’re his own children,” Chudzik noted.
Baptiste shook her head. “Those stations are vital for coordinating our spy ships and the supply missions to resistance groups. He’s right that they can’t be compromised until worlds near them are liberated.”
“I stand corrected. I assume a suitable officer is accompanying the data in case of trouble with the Steiners?”
“A Major Drummond, who’s been here on something I’m not cleared for.” John gave his ground forces commander a reassuring look. “Don’t worry, General. I’m not offended. Kerensky handpicked him to tell me ‘none of my business’ if need be, so I assume he’ll be more than capable of bulling through any LIC or LCAF interference.”
Chudzik frowned. “Drummond… the one who’s… ah…” He gave an embarrassed cough.
John pressed his hands over his ears. “I’m not listening, I’m not listening.”
“Please be serious,” Baptiste told him. “You certainly know more about that matter than General Kerensky wants you to know.”
“I might, I might not. Let’s just say there are certain technologies that I’d very much like the Federated Suns to have, but not at the expense of bringing Amaris down. And as long as General Kerensky can honestly tell the other Council Lords that, no I’m not being granted access to classified technologies that they don’t, then we have a much reduced chance of one of them coming off the fence in the wrong direction.”
“Respectfully, sir, the AFFS is getting access to things that they wouldn’t normally.”
John looked at the two generals and then shrugged his shoulders. “Of course, but that’s at Kerensky’s discretion, not a matter of me using my position to enrich the Federated Suns. Look at, oh, the salvage operations for battlefields in the Hegemony. Anything that can’t be put back into service quickly is shipped back to be warehoused in the Suns until engineers either do a full rebuild or strip useful parts off and scrap the rest. Every piece has to be accounted for because my peers would point and howl if some of that SLDF hardware wound up in my stores and not General Kerensky’s.”
“And none of it’s to make sure the AFFS gets it’s agreed on percentage?” asked Baptiste shrewdly. “I know there was bargaining back in ’65 over what share of salvage your units in the Periphery would get.”
“If it was just that then I’d take Kerensky’s word for the numbers. Spending money checking to see if that man’s being honest is just throwing it away. No, all that checking is to make sure that salvage made available for the AFFS is either our own damaged hardware or Rim Worlds wreckage.”
“And may I say that the salvage work is impressively thorough?” offered Chudzik. “My own techs are impressed at the… almost mania that your astechs have for putting damaged equipment back into service.”
“It’s a lesson we learned in the Border War. Re-learned, probably. Everything we can repair on the frontlines is something that doesn’t have to be shipped forwards. Logistics may not be everything in war, but it’s one of the biggest headaches, particularly if you let your attention slip.” John chuckled suddenly. “It can lead to some odd equipment selections though. The Fifth Crucis Dragoons have quite a lot of Capellan ‘Mechs we salvaged on Valexa seven years ago, including a lance of Liao assault quads pieced back together somehow. God only knows how long they’ll be able to keep them running.”
Baptiste blinked. “Goliaths? I thought they were licensed to Corean – don’t they have factories right on New Avalon that could provide parts? We were looking at buying some from the Brigadier Corporation to replace our losses in the Periphery,” she added when both men looked at her in surprise. “My staff suggested that if we needed spare parts we could order them locally rather than sending to the Hegemony or the Free Worlds League.”
“Well that would make sense, but they’re not Goliaths. I had to look this up, but apparently before Brigadier got involved in building quad-Mechs, Hollis Incorporated had a try. It doesn’t seem to have done either firm much good, really, but now we have some we may as well use them I suppose.”
-
i have to wonder which quad that was being used by the new owners and that are being talked about. The setup with blake and hanse was funny and should have been a little bit more to it though...that is just crying for a extra cut scence with hanse meeting the good doctor and seeing him in the flesh.
-
i have to wonder which quad that was being used by the new owners and that are being talked about. The setup with blake and hanse was funny and should have been a little bit more to it though...that is just crying for a extra cut scence with hanse meeting the good doctor and seeing him in the flesh.
Xanthos, there was a section dealing with them
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So you just killed what becomes the CWS Dire Wolf in the normal BTU. Nice 8)
-
FSS William D. Porter, Al Na’ir System
Lockdale Province, Terran Hegemony
22 August 2769
Reconnaissance had identified a hundred drones guarding each jump point, almost all of them smaller M-3s. There would be no jumping in without being spotted – it might be possible to jump in far enough out that immediate engagement wouldn’t result, but the data wasn’t that current. An HPG was just as obvious as a jump flare in some respects so the spy ships had to be very careful.
“It’s ironic,” Admiral Benden had told Kenneth Jones earlier. “Admiral Brandt wouldn’t have ordered us in on the first wave because it would look as if she was treating us as expendable. But now that the First Prince is in command he has to send FSN ships first or the reverse is true.”
“Some ships are more expendable that others,” he’d replied.
Non-essential personnel had been disembarked, not that a warship had many of those. Flight deck staff could be sent though – the chances of being called on to refuel or rearm a fighter were very slim. Most of Jones’ staff wasn’t needed either. The carriers had plenty of spare room for them – part of the redesign he’d ordered had ensured there was life support and barracks for hundreds of excess personnel – and neither of those was going to be sent in the first wave.
Six ships, manned by the bare minimum needed to fight them. And the admirals. Ramirez, aboard FSS Anjin Muerto, and Jones himself aboard Wee Willie. Strictly speaking, neither man was filling a role in operating the ships, but tradition was clear: their divisions were going into harm’s way, so it was their obligation to be aboard.
The brief moment of disorientation passed as they entered the system. Jones gripped the arms of the shock frame and watched. The flag deck was empty and silent without his staff so he’d relocated to the Combat Information Centre where at least he was not alone.
“Fighters away. Take us up thirty, starboard seven,” ordered Captain Toland from the navigational bridge.
They’d crammed forty fighters aboard somehow, loading them into shuttle bays and improvised a catapult arrangement that would launch two squadrons out of the cargo-bay doors – not exactly a dignified launch since it amounted to three cargo arms, each gripping a structural member that four fighters had been clamped to.
The tactical display cleared up after the interminable span of forty, maybe forty-five, seconds. Space around them was awash with crimson.
None of the other ships were in a position to support – they’d emerged pointing in all directions and the orders were simple – if drones were in range then engage them immediately, forcing them to focus upon the first wave and let the second wave of ships arrive and orientate themselves without an immediate threat.
Porter’s guns shook her elderly framework as they fired into the drones, the fighters scattering as they singled out targets from the swarming drones. The old cruiser’s power systems couldn’t manage both broadsides but everything from bow to stern along her port-side was firing.
Eight M-3 drones died under that battering but lasers, missiles and gauss slugs were clawing away at the Porter’s flank. Individually they were little threat, but as Jones had found at Tortuga, enough of them in time could do the job.
“Missiles!” someone shouted.
For a moment Jones wondered if they meant the fighters’ Alamos, which were already launched, or the Porter’s own launchers – responsible for two drones killed.
Then he saw the trace on the screen and backtracked it to the shark that had emerged from the M-3 minnows. One of the M-5s was still here and its bow guns were hurling fire after the missiles it had already fired.
The Wee Willie’s hull screamed as nuclear fire smashed against her prow. Jones was rattled in the shock-frame and the lighting flickered. He grabbed for his emergency mask but there was no scream of air, the compartment was still sealed.
Automatically he checked the repeater from the bridge. It showed only static. The ship status display…
Bridge, bow turret, even the forward missile launchers were dark.
“Roll the ship!” Two voices, his own and Major Kirkland’s as the XO took over responsibility for the Porter.
Jones lifted his hand in apology. “Your conn, Captain.”
“Perseverant and Belligerent are gone,” someone noted.
“Worry about that Caspar first,” Jones snarled. The little corvettes hadn’t had much chance of surviving this to begin with. Hopefully the crews had made it off.
The Porter’s roll was off-axis and the ship heeled wildly. Thruster damage, Jones noted.
“Stop swearing, Jackson. Stop trying to compensate too.” Kirkland unlocked her shock-frame and leapt across the compartment to direct the man. “We need to shield the bow – more shots into that could punch deep in, there’s so little armour left. Tactical, focus fire on the Caspar.”
Some gunners weren’t getting the new orders and both broadsides were firing now, engaging any M-3 drone that crossed their arc of fire, without regard to the limits of the power system. They’d carved a wedge out of the drone formation, but ships that had been engaging the corvettes were now swarming over the larger vessels. Two port-side turrets managed to lock-up the M-5 and six autocannon shells punched through her flank armour while three lasers smashed the drone’s bow particle projection cannon to pieces.
Then the M-5 brought her broadside to bear and opened up. A squadron of fighters dived into the gulf between the two behemoths, splitting into pairs to engage the capital missiles darting down on the Porter. Two of the missiles blew up, shots hitting their propellant. The third detonated short of the Porter – perhaps deliberately – and the pursuing fighters tumbled out of the explosion, pilots dead or dying from the radiation, control surfaces and instrumentation melted by the pulse of heat.
No miracle of bravery could prevent the autocannon from scoring hits though and eight hammer blows crashed against the cruiser’s dorsal hull, smashing their way along the Porter’s spine.
In CIC, Major Kirkland flew across the compartment, a chagrined expression on her face until her head hit the tactical display. Blood mixed with the holography in bizarre patterns as the woman went limp.
Shaken inside his frame, Jones shook his head trying to shake off the stunning effect of the Wee Willie’s pounding. Perhaps through sheer stubbornness, power stayed on and he looked around CIC. What was the chain of command now? “I have the conn,” he said flatly. “Medic to the bridge for Major Kirkland -” no longer the ship’s captain “- and get me a damage report.”
“Drives down,” a young leftenant reported. “Control runs are out. Primary power down for starboard broadside. Flight deck down, hell there’s a twenty metre hole between it and the cargo bay.”
“Keep your head, leftenant,” he ordered, forcing calm. “Have the laser turret crews shut their systems down and join damage control teams, we can aim and fire the autocannon and missiles off auxiliary power as long as we’re not trying to fire lasers off the same circuit.” He hoped he was right about that, the Tancredi could manage it but the Porter was much older. Can’t show doubt, he reminded himself. And right now nothing is in arc to fire on the Caspar anyway. “Handling thrusters?”
“Limited function, I can stop the roll.”
Jones checked the tactical display and then the ship systems display. “Don’t do that,” he said thoughtfully. The first hits had knocked out both the bow missile launchers but the port-bow launcher now showed as green. A fault? Maybe, but if not…
“Damage control, confirm status on the port-bow missile tubes.”
“Aye sir.” The leftenant turned back to his console and meanwhile Jones looked at the wider picture.
FSS Reynard Davion was no longer transmitting and the Anjin Muerto was bleeding air and fire. The Congress-class frigate was fractionally heavier than the William D Porter, but in trade off for more powerful engines, she had thinner armour and a lighter broadside. Somewhere beyond her FSS Robert Davion’s beacon reported that the destroyer was still fighting, but little else.
“Jump flares, sir, multiple flares…”
Half the M-3 drones were gone, the rest focusing on the three wounded survivors of the FSN squadron. It would take time for them to realign to engage the new arrivals, time that the second wave could use to form a defensive formation and co-ordinate their fire.
“Then our mission is complete. Now all we need to do is to survive.”
“Sir, damage control reports the tubes are intact. They were down because the muzzles were blocked by debris from the first strike. It’s been shaken free now.”
“Good.” There was just enough time. “Gunnery, those tubes will be in arc on the M-5 in thirty seconds. Make sure they’re loaded with Santa Anas and fire as they bear.”
The Senior Leftenant checked his board. “Load confirmed. Targeting solution…”
“Lifeboats departing the Anjin Muerto,” the sensor operators reported quietly.
On the tactical display, the roll brought the M-5 into the firing arc of the missile tubes, its own weapons cycling and ready for a coup de grace salvo before it retasked to handle the incoming warships.
“Firing.”
Three White Shark missiles leapt from the lamed cruiser’s nose – just as they must have at a startled SLDF general, more than a century before.
The first sailed past the M-5’s blunt bow.
The second detonated against one of the four engine nacelles and tore through armour into the systems beneath.
The third disappeared skimmed past an autocannon turret and detonated behind and below, outlining the Caspar in light for a moment. For a moment it seemed that the M-5 had escaped, but then the bow fell out of alignment with the engines and the drone tore in two as if its mid-section was mere paper, structural members violated behind their ability to support the massive power of the drives.
The first ships of the second wave, SLN heavy cruisers, burst through hyperspace one at a time. Between the first and second arrival, the Robert Davion’s transponder ceased to transmit.
.o0O0o.
Summer Palace, Sian
Sian Commonality, Capellan Confederation
4 October 2769
Leaving her precious art collection behind, the Chancellor had relocated to the gardens and held audience for visitors in a pavilion of white marble pillars wound around with vines native to Sian. At other times of the year they might flower but today they gave the construction a morbid air.
“I have erred,” she said with no small amount of frustration.
“Please mother.” Baltazar Liao wore a high-collared shirt and his trousers were bloused around the top of cavalry style boots in the latest court fashion. Tai Yang Gwak imagined they must be painful to walk in for any appreciable time; he’d certainly eschewed such boots unless he actually planned to ride a horse. “We’re in public, anyone could hear you.”
“Such as the fluttering courtiers who think that calling me Celestial Highness in public will buy more favour than practical service?” Barbara Liao snorted disdainfully. “They are wrong about both. Delusions of divine favour are a luxury our house cannot afford, Baltazar.”
“Perhaps her excellency would enlighten her servant as to her concerns so that all may be made right?”
Barbara eyed him thoughtfully and then jerked her head, indicating the bench at the side of the pavilion. “Sit, Gwak.”
Oh dear. This was unprecedented. Obediently, he seated himself with his back to one of the marble columns.
“The peacock of Atreus has been crowing again, boasting of how much of the SLDF’s property he has bullied them to sell to him and of how grandly his forces are now endowed,” the Chancellor murmured. “I doubt this pleases Robert Steiner who has Kerensky’s eyes fixed upon him as the SLDF redeploys across the Commonwealth.”
“It hardly pleases me.” Her young heir frowned, brow furrowed. “Although we have done much the same, have we not? The destroyers that were docked at Capella, for example.”
“Yes. And this is my error. Learn from this, son. I allowed my anger at John Davion blind me to his goal.”
“How could you not hate him? He took grandfather’s death as an excuse to invade us, killed thousands of our citizens and nearly stole three worlds away before the Cameron came of age.” Baltazar almost spat into the flowerbeds but recalled his manners. “I didn’t like the First Lord, but at least he saw justice done there.”
“Hate him? Of course I hate him. But I should never have despised him.”
Gwak nodded thoughtfully. “It is important to grasp an adversary’s strengths that they can be effectively undermined. You spoke of his goal…?”
“Few of House Cameron survive – distant kin with no useful claim for the most part. The closest relative to Richard left is his cousin, spawn of a bastard and a Davion.”
“Guerever Cameron is dead,” Baltazar noted. “Was that…?” He directed a questioning look at Tai Yang.
The aged Director shook his head. “She simply fell ill according to my sources. Had someone planned the matter, her children would also have been dealt with.”
“There is no question that Kerensky will triumph over Amaris. None. But what then?” the Chancellor shook her head. “That is the question that all of the Council are contemplating. There is no clear succession for the Terran Hegemony, and by extension, to the First Lord’s throne.”
“Ah.”
“Ah?” Baltazar looked over at Tai Yang. “What do you mean?”
“I must crave pardon. My own counsel should have uncovered this line of thought before.” He turned to Baltazar. “We have contemplated only that the decision of succession would lie within the Council, for the SLDF would put down any attempt to seize power by other means. Even weakened as they are…”
“But Davion has followed Amaris’ example. Rather than confront them directly, he has used his army to work his way within their defences and into their command structures. Into the confidence of their leaders. Kerensky has no desire to rule and no heirs to provide for; the man is almost a eunuch. But if he were to sway towards any Council Lord as kingmaker, or were a less principled leader succeed to the post of Commanding General then the SLDF could readily impose a First Lord of their choice.”
The young man stared at his mother. “But they had not, they would not! The SLDF stays out of politics.”
“So we have all believed. But that could change. And John Davion would have it change. Marik and Steiner crow at the fortunes they’re making at the SLDF’s expense but wealth does not spring from hoarding. The Star League is collecting full taxes in the Suns and spending them there.”
Tai Yang frowned. “The best source of economic data from other realms has always been that gathered by the BSLA, but that is no longer centrally available. My understanding is that Davion has seen his economy shrink as we all have, with the loss of trade to the Hegemony – and he was their largest trading partner. And yet… he has not suffered worse, in fact some worlds are rebounding.”
“That perfidious prince has been a step ahead of us the entire time. Playing the honourable man… well it must appeal to Kerensky.” The Chancellor shook her head, tiny bells in her headdress chiming. “A profound error on my part and one that must be dealt with.”
“We would never accept a Davion as First Lord!” Baltazar protested.
“With Kerensky’s regiments at his back? Oh yes, I would bow,” she told him grimly. “Better to accept him as First Lord and try to muzzle him through the Council than to have the SLDF turn their guns upon us. Even as matters stand they have eighty ‘Mech regiments upon our soil and Kerensky is popular – look at how many have flocked to enlist in the SLDF in its hour of need.”
Tai Yang bowed his head. “And many of them then trained across the border, where Kerensky can be sure that Davion will not interfere… overtly.”
“Oh yes. Davion may not claim the throne himself of course. He could advance a puppet easily enough. His own vote and a Cameron-Davion First Lord, then convince Marik or Steiner to throw in with him… the First Lord’s vote breaks ties after all. The Terran Hegemony and Federated Suns tied together would have vast economic power.”
“Can we stop him?” Her son rubbed his chin. “Not from outside, we don’t have the forces – even if the other Lords supported us, we’d just be painted as siding with Amaris. Kerensky’s too popular to openly oppose.”
“I’m glad you see that. I believe a case can be made that while the bulk of the SLDF was in the Periphery, the Confederation was too exposed to openly declare our opposition to Amaris. After all, our military strength is least amongst the Member States and our economy damaged by the loss of trade with the Hegemony. If we are not the first to offer aid, it is at least plausible that we had good reason to wait.”
Tai Yang rubbed his chin. “There is then the matter of what we can offer to him in support.”
“On the military front, even Davion has only sent the equivalent of two Divisions,” the Chancellor declared. “Since he dare not break the peace with us if we seem to be co-operating with Kerensky, we may withdraw equivalent forces from our shared border and offer them to Kerensky for service with the SLDF armies striking out of the Lyran Commonwealth.”
Baltazar nodded emphatically. “No one could expect our forces to fight under Davion’s command. Not after the Border War. Which -”
“Very good. It reminds Kerensky that his current ally has been an aggressor given the opportunity.” She frowned. “We have crewed the destroyers purchased from the SLDF with loyal crews, but they require experience. They can be placed at Kerensky’s service for escort duties. Since that was to be their role anyway, there would be no logic in their being expended in costly assaults such as the recent battle of Al Na’ir.”
Seeing that the Chancellor’s heir seemed puzzled, Tai Yang spoke up. “Lord Baltazar may not yet have been made aware that Davion succeeded in securing the system where Admiral Brandt did not. Of course, the defenders had been much reduced already by her unsuccessful attack, but it nonetheless heralded as a victory for the forces under his command. The Federated Suns Navy was committed to the first wave of warships seizing one of the jump points and five of their ships were destroyed, another will need at least a year of repairs.”
“Possibly he was over-confident,” Barbara Liao mused. “But that may not be the case. I will not under-estimate him a second time. It is possible he allowed such losses to underscore his claim of commitment to Kerensky’s cause.”
Tai Yang bowed. “The agents of your Maskirova will investigate further, your excellency.”
“Financially…” Barbara sighed. “I will address the House of Scions, make it clear that the SLDF… no, appeal to his pride, that General Kerensky needs support and that the taxes paid to the Star League are vital to his struggle. The withholding of League taxes can no longer be excused.” She made a dismissive gesture. “It will at least play well to the citizens who idolize ‘The Protector of the Star League’.”
-
Army Group Eleven Headquarters, New Rhodes III
Lockdale Province, Terran Hegemony
27 November 2769
“If the Marshal had known your schedule I’m sure he’d have delayed his visit to the frontlines,” Janos Grec said apologetically as he welcomed Aaron DeChevilier to the command centre.
“Is that what they call him? The Marshal?”
“Well it’s his rank – Marshal of the AFFS.”
“Yes, but -” There are echoes there of ‘the General’, the way men refer to Aleksandr, DeChevilier thought. He refrained from finishing thought out loud. “I’d expected his political rank, is all. He’s well thought of then?”
“By and large.” The admiral was almost ten years the Deputy Commanding General’s age. “Lucas is champing at the bit a little – he’s a fire-eater.”
DeChevilier smiled slightly – the commander of Third Army was one of his protégés. “Aggressive officers win wars.”
“He didn’t much like being held back on the defensive after Al Na’ir went poorly. Letting him go to Helen was like popping the cork off a bottle.”
“He hasn’t done anything reckless, has he?” DeChevilier settled into a chair at the conference table.
“No, just eager.” Grec grimaced. “The news from Quentin had been circulating.”
“I’ve been out of touch.”
The older man looked at him. “I’ll make sure you have the details later, but Amaris has been pushing military factories to meet impossible quotas. We’d not really encountered it so far, but when the MechWorks at Quentin hadn’t met their initial quota he had the workforce decimated.”
“That’s insane!”
“Oh yes. Twice, in fact. And then their families were rounded up and used as hostages, those who weren’t put to work replacing the executed workers.”
“That can’t possibly have worked out well.”
“The most frightening thing is that they were meeting the new quota – which had been increased, not decreased. Quality control had gone to shit – it’s not just battle damage that needs to be made good – but they were delivering something like a hundred and twenty assault ‘Mechs a year to Amaris’ forces until we liberated them.”
Aaron DeChevilier mapped that sort of demands across the industrial might of the Hegemony and had to hide a flinch. “John Davion was right then. The longer Amaris is allowed to entrench, the worse this will be.”
“That’s my own assessment, yes.”
“And he’ll be building drones the same way.” DeChevilier looked Grec in the eyes. “Do we have a counter for them?”
“Not exactly. They’re disturbingly capable. My team think we might be able build a jammer that could affect their performance, or at least their co-ordination. It’s a work in progress though and the systems are huge, even for warships.”
“Define huge?”
The admiral considered. “Something on the order of fitting a planetary HPG into a ship. It’ll be dockyard work just to fit them.”
“Whatever it takes. Castles Brian we can take care of, but those drones are murder. If we keep taking the losses from Al Na’ir then there won’t be a Star League Navy left by the time we reach Terra.”
“I’ll do everything I can. We’re refitting a pair of cruisers now but they’ll have to be tested.”
“I brought Twentieth Fleet with me. Once you’re ready, there’ll be a sufficiently large fleet that we can target a system defended by a SDS.”
Grec nodded. “Sometime around the start of the year,then. You’ll want to talk to Thomas Belleau about deployments. Even with FSN support, we’ve been stretched to cover the supply lines out to Nirasaki. And we can’t afford to let Amaris take a world back.”
“Absolutely not,” agreed DeChevilier. “God alone knows what that maniac would do to the population. But we’ll have to do without the FSN against the SDS in future.”
“I’m not sure that’s a good idea.”
“You can talk to General Kerensky if you want, but he’s given me firm orders. From now on, our ally’s warships are to focus on escorting convoys and other rear-area duties to free up our own ships for the frontlines.”
That got a scowl. “If this is a matter of trust…”
“Good lord, of course not! No one doubts their courage or their loyalty, but they’ve lost eleven ships out of the twenty-one that have been operating alongside us just in the last twelve months. They’re just not equipped for fighting the battles we’re seeing and I shudder to think what it’s doing to their morale.”
The admiral studied the table. “Their carriers are an immense advantage.”
“And how many of those fighters have died? Their casualty rates are getting near to those of the infantry brigades.” Urban fighting was chewing through the foot soldiers of the SLDF at an appalling rate. It said something that ship losses against the SDS were of greater concern than that. DeChevilier gave Grec a patient look. “Covering our supply lines is still important work, and if their carriers can do so much then that’ll just make them more effective there.”
Grec took a deep breath and then exhaled. “Just be diplomatic. They’re proud men and women, and not the sort of arrogance some of their MechWarriors have shown.”
“Absolutely. For god’s sake, I’m from the Suns myself! Went to Sakhara and Albion. We trust them at our backs; it’s just that that’s where we want them: covering our backs.” The general smiled broadly. “Actually, Kerensky’s sent a gift for them.”
“Do tell.”
“There was a pair of battleships under construction over Apollo when we took it. Neither has their armament fitted, but we were able to get the jump drives working and scratch crews brought them along with Twentieth Fleet. It doesn’t make up for the losses, but you know how few capital ships the FSN has. This should go a little way towards helping them. They might not be McKennas but they’re probably at least as good as the FWL’s Atreus-class.”
DeChevilier didn’t mention that getting the jump-drives working had mostly involved stripping out the Lithium-Fusion batteries that had been almost completely installed. Even the member-states had only a handful of ships fitted with that technology, but Richard had made a gift of it to Amaris.
Grec nodded. The Atreus-class were the only battleships built by the member-states that had ever seriously challenged the Terran Hegemony’s domination of naval affairs. Immense fortunes had been spent upgrading the Monsoon-class and Farragut-class ships that made up the backbone of the Hegemony’s might and it arguably wasn’t until the Edict of 2650 forced many of the ships into mothballs that Terran ship-builders had got over their (probably excessive) alarm. “That won’t hurt.”
.o0O0o.
Army Group Eleven Headquarters, New Rhodes III
Lockdale Province, Terran Hegemony
24 December 2769
The handover of command hadn’t been rushed by either of them men involved. DeChevilier needed to re-establish familiarity with soldiers and spacers who he’d not seen for years. As a matter of courtesy, he’d also asserted that the final military operation of the year, Nineteenth Army’s liberation of Hamal, should be completed before he took over.
“He’s bending over backwards to make it clear you’re not being replaced for dereliction,” Hanse said cynically as they exited the elevator that carried them down to the level of the base holding formal ballroom where the ceremony would take place.
“Mm.” John wasn’t really complaining. He’d gone to Hamal himself to get a first-hand look at what was happening on the ground. What he’d seen had haunted him at night ever since. “It’ll be good to get back to New Avalon,” he murmured, words that anyone listening could write off as spoken to himself.
“I’m sorry I couldn’t warn you.” The redhead seemed genuinely contrite. “Amaris had his claws deeper than I’d realised.”
‘Patriot Battalions’ had made up the core of the resistance to General Greene’s forces, but the worst of it had been ordinary Hegemony citizens who’d listened to Amaris’ claims that he’d ended Cameron tyranny. SLDF troopers hardened by fighting in the Taurian Concordat had been dumb-founded to find themselves facing the same sort of guerrilla fighting on a Hegemony world. Dumb-founded, but furious.
It had been hard for John and Greene to restrain their subordinates from responding brutally. Under the laws of war, they would have been completely justified in executing the guerrilla fighters as illegal combatants and more than a few outraged regiment or battalion commanders had started doing exactly that.
‘Didn’t they realise that we’re here to liberate them?’ they’d protested.
The only answer John could find for them was: ‘Then we must act like it.’ Fourteen very able officers had been reduced in rank over the issue before it was grudgingly accepted that only the leaders of such groups would face trial and, if convicted, the noose. Their followers were disarmed, interned and – well, John hoped they could be released after the world settled down. That wouldn’t be his decision though.
There was going to be a legacy of trouble on that world, and so many others. Neighbouring communities had begun to feud over the sides they’d taken and that was a poison that could take a long time to leach out of local politics.
“Sire.” A trim officer in AFFS uniform drew himself up, three broad bands marking the black epaulette that marked him as a naval officer.
“Admiral Jones.” The newly-minted vice-admiral had been serving as John’s aide since the last of his command returned to the Suns for reassignment and in the case of the one badly battered cruiser judged salvageable, for an extended stay in dock once a yard slip was available. “Looking forward to going home?”
“Home is a somewhat flexible term for naval personnel, sir. It’ll be nice to remind my wife of what I look like.”
Hanse chuckled. “Assuming she hasn’t seen him in the media.”
“Well you do have some leave coming.” John walked down the hall, Jones falling in behind him. “Your people took steep losses in Al Na’ir and Nirasaki. I hope I’m able to make it worthwhile.”
“They also won, sir. And more than that, they had your trust. It’s been almost two hundred years since the Navy’s been able to hold its head up as a fighting service… but you gave us that back.”
John paused and looked at the moustachioed Admiral. “The fighting won’t be over soon. Not even covering supply lines.”
“I suspect that some of my fellow officers will remember that decision too. And that it wasn’t you who made it.”
“Glory isn’t worth the price.”
“Something must be, or we shouldn’t be out there. And respectfully, sire, that part is your job.”
“I stand corrected Admiral.” They paused at the door. “You’re up for a staff posting, so I expect I’ll be seeing you again once you’re back from leave. Admiral Goto’s retirement will mean another shuffle of the naval staff.”
“Are you thinking Rike Moore’s old job at the Navy Design Bureau?” asked Hanse shrewdly. “It’s normally a Rear Admiral’s billet but with the Robinson refits and now these new capital ships, the job’s grown.”
“I have a position in mind for you,” John continued smoothly. “But we can deal with that once you’re back from leave.”
The double doors were flung open before them and a regimental band began to play. They’d been brought from the Capellan Confederation’s SLDF garrison, just one component amid twelve almost fresh divisions. Barbara Liao’s declaration of support for Kerensky had freed up Fifth Army to despatch two of its three Corps to reinforce Army Group Eleven and a similar drawdown of the SLDF deployments in the Federated Suns would leave only two Corps to guard the training facilities and factories that SLDF logistics depended upon. But those fresh troops were going to be needed now that Kerensky’s own Army Group Thirteen was positioned to form a second pincer.
John had rarely seen someone more relieved than Aaron DeChevilier when he discovered that the Corps that would remain within the Capellan Confederation would be XXIV Corps, in which his daughter Angela was serving. Her brother Roger had died fighting in the Outworlds Alliance and the general’s younger children – if they were still alive – were on Terra with their mother.
Who knew what had happened to them? The most that could be said for hope was that Amaris had made no attempt to use them as hostages against DeChevilier.
The hall was thronged with officers. A handful of helmeted men and women in the light grey of Capellan dress uniforms, the liaison officers DeChevilier had demanded even though the main force of the CCAF’s contribution would be placed under Kerensky’s command stood apart in a single block. But most of those present wore the olive of the SLDF and the dark green uniforms and golden half-breastplates of AFFS uniforms stood out intermingled among the olive.
“Commander, Army Group Eleven: General John Davion!” a sergeant major announced loudly and around the room several hundred men and women came to attention, snapping salutes.
John hesitated, having barely reached one of the points of the great Cameron Star that had been laser-cut into the floor, every groove filled with coloured glass and the whole then polished until it was mirror-smooth, flush against the floor. He was no stranger to formal occasions but this one was off-script. He’d been expecting a simpler announcement, alongside DeChevilier at the podium, before the necessary speeches framing the exchange of command. Also they’d given the wrong rank.
Alright, things happened. He returned the salute and finished crossing the floor. Hanse, unburdened by any need for decorum, sprinted ahead to where Aaron DeChevilier was waiting near the podium. He stared at something out of John’s sight and then gave him an approving thumbs up, stepping aside to join the front ranks of the crowd.
“General Davion.” DeChevilier said, eyes twinkling with rare humour. “Right on time. But you’re setting a very poor example to your juniors.”
“I’m terribly sorry to hear that,” he replied warily.
“I should think so too. An officer of the Star League Defense Force must always be suitably attired.”
John shot him a suspicious look. “While I would be very much honoured to be an officer of the Star League Defense Force, I’m fairly confident I’m wearing the uniform of the Federated Suns.”
“I’m pleased you feel that way, General Davion.” DeChevilier lifted two items from behind the podium, a SLDF officer’s cap and a sash. John had seen thousands like them; every SLDF soldier’s dress uniform included a sash with a specific pattern to mark their homeworld. This one represented New Avalon.
He wouldn’t! Kerensky would have had to give the orders and… and this was ridiculous… Was Hanse laughing? No, the bastard was cheering and whistling.
“John Davion of New Avalon.” The Deputy Commanding General was still smiling but more seriously now. “On the recommendation of no less than five flag officers of the SLDF and with the express endorsement of Commanding General Aleksandr Sergeyvich Kerensky, it is my great privilege to commission you into the SLDF with the rank of General, effective 8 November 2767.”
“I…” Words failed John and he mutely allowed the sash to be slipped over his head and shoulder. The three stars of a SLDF General were pinned to it, since they could hardly be pinned to the metal of his half-breastplate. Accepting the cap he donned it, hoping it was suitably straight. AFFS uniforms didn’t include headgear.
DeChevilier gave him a careful look and then nodded approvingly. “Now that’s more like it.” He turned to the podium and indicated John. “My fellow officers, I present General John Davion of the SLDF.”
Even more than the salutes, the applause that filled the room lifted John’s spirits. I can’t have done so very poorly if they’re willing to do that.
“Traditionally, a newly minted SLDF general is offered a command ‘Mech,” DeChevilier murmured under the sound of the crowd. “Gunslingers usually decline; we’re too attached to our usual rides. General Kerensky sent the Cyclops he was offered back in ’31 and hopes you’ll accept it as a mark of the esteem he holds you in.”
John nodded and as the clapping died down he shook DeChevilier’s hand. The other man ushered him forwards and, taking the podium, John glanced down at the cues for the speech he’d been expecting to make. It wouldn’t really work after this.
Instead he looked out at the assembled officers. “I’ve been told, more than once, that there’s no greater privilege for an officer than to have soldiers follow them. Eight years ago, when I first experienced military command I thought that I understood those words. It was not until I came here twelve months ago that I appreciated the true weight of them…”
-
That last part with John Davion's commissioning into the SLDF was awesome and heartwarming. Also melancholy. And there seems to be an unusual amount of dust in the air here...
Well done, mate. Look forward to more.
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Well done indeed! And Hanse's response was hilarious!
Also, I'm very pleased to see Admiral Jones was on the Aegis that survived Al Na'ir. I was worried from the moment he'd been assigned to the Willie!
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Wonderfully written as ever!
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A final bleep-you to the drone, and the Capellans are realizing what is going on while being self-aware to recognize their own issue. This could make the Capellans much more dangerous in the future.
True about 'liberating' people who thought they had already been liberated. Hopefully Blake and some of his techs can get a viral video planted in an HPG feed, that shows Amaris' rise as dictator and how he has been deceiving people. It will make Amaris angrier at the Terran Hegemony worlds, but it will at least give people an idea of what is really going on. And for those that doubt, watching Amaris deploy occupation troops will help them believe.
-
SLS Sevastapol, Lockdale
Lockdale Province, Terran Hegemony
17 January 2770
It had been more than eighteen years since Janos Grec had been aboard a warship heading into harm’s way. The heavy cruiser Sevastapol had already had some of the most advanced electronics of any ships in the SLDF – the Sovetskii Soyuz class post-dated the Caspar drones, after all. Now she and two of her sister ships had been crammed full of hundreds of thousands of tons of additional systems, their clean lines ruined with hundreds of antennae.
If the systems failed then the Star League Navy was going to have one hell of a fight on its hands. Lockdale was a provincial capital and in addition to M-3 and M-5 drones, it was known that there were thousands of automated fighters and a considerable number of orbital stations to support the drones’ activities.
“I wish we had those carriers,” he mused.
Admiral Belleau nodded. “It would have been my preference too, but orders are orders.”
“Almost four hundred more fighters…” Grec shook his head.
“And thirty shuttles for search and rescue,” the admiral agreed. “But we’d have to assign them escorts because the General is right about what happened to the other FSN ships. Other than a few ships, it’s a fleet of relics. Brave crews, but relics.”
“Not so many of those relics now,” conceded Grec.
Ahead of the combined forces of Nineteenth and Twentieth Fleet, the Republicans had assembled their drones around Lockdale itself. Unlike Al Na’ir, where there had been thousands of outlying mining operations to secure, here the prize was the world itself and so the defenders had concentrated their forces there, knowing that they would force any invaders to pay a heavy price for trying to liberate the heavily industrialised world.
“Will those ships work?” the younger Admiral asked seriously. “I don’t mean their effect,” he added hastily. “I know there’s no way to test that except in practise. But there won’t be another St Lo?”
Grec grimaced. There had been four prototypes for the systems that had been developed for what was called Project NIKE. SLS St Lo had been the first cruiser to have them installed. After leaving docks she’d gone to a space firing range in the outer reaches of the Kathil system and turned the jammers on, testing their effects without having to worry about causing billions of damage to civilian systems around the shipyards.
Thirty minutes later, Grec had received a signal from a lifeboat. The irate captain of the St Lo had been unable to use his ship’s own transmitters because the prototype systems had overloaded the entire electrical grid and forced the drives into emergency shutdown. The cruiser had had to be towed back to dock and the repairs would take months.
“I’m fairly sure we’ve solved that. We tried the systems on these three ships the same way and we didn’t have the same problems.” Which didn’t mean the systems were easy on the ships. Temperature spikes and temporary loss of some systems continued – nothing as devastating but the enormous power needed to counter the electronic warfare systems of the drones couldn’t help but to have secondary effects on even shielded military electronics that were a few tens or hundreds of metres away rather than thousands of kilometres.
“I hope you’re right. Anyway, we’re seeing movement from the enemy fleet now. Looks as if they’re going to be moving out to engage before we reach orbit. Good luck, Admiral.”
“Good luck to you.”
The screen went dark and Grec went back to dealing with the thousand and one issues that plagued his little squadron. He felt a distinct nostalgia for the days when he was just a wing commander and responsible only for his own life and a few score more fighter pilots out in space, chasing down unidentified raiders.
They weren’t the good old days, he told himself. Someone was having to worry about all this back then too. It’s just that now it’s my turn.
.o0O0o.
It was impossible to count the drones.
Too many drive flares in too dense a formation, ships moving back and confusing the count.
The best guess was a little shy of four hundred Caspars, more than twice as many – possibly three times as many – M-3 drones. The most that could reliably be said about the number of Voidseeker fighters is that some were definitely there.
Belleau and Caradan, the commander of Twentieth Fleet, had formed an aggressive formation. There were no transports with them – that lesson had been learned. Their one mission was to eradicate the drones. Landing troops and destroying the surface weapon batteries wasn’t even open to consideration while the Caspars and their escorts were still a threat.
“An old fashioned slugging match,” Grec noted grimly. The enemy vessels couldn’t absorb damage as well as crewed ships – however vulnerable individual crew-members might be, it was surprisingly difficult to destroy the crew of ship unless the entire hull came apart. The automated internals of an M-5 drone couldn’t carry out repairs that the crew of an equivalent destroyer considered routine.
Of course, off-setting that was the fact that the drones packed considerably more firepower than their size suggested.
“They’re beginning to enter the estimated range.”
“Wait,” he said quietly. Old instincts were beginning to sing. The enemy weren’t committed yet.
A wing of drones slashed down at the flank of the formation. At least a hundred M-3 drones, packed so tightly the tactical display suggested that a man could practically reach out from one and touch the next. Ridiculous of course, there were scores of kilometres between the hulls.
Well before the drones reached the effective range of their weapons, a division of destroyers had moved up and brought their particle turrets to bear. At this range they didn’t hit reliably and few of the shots that did strike killed the heavily armoured drones. But many of the hits were crippling, punching through armour to damage vital systems. As drones lost drives, sensors or occasionally even fuel tanks (without oxygen inside crew compartments it wouldn’t burn, but the leaks tended to act like reaction thrusters) the formation had to open their ranks to avoid collisions.
More weapons were opening up now – no one wished to empty their ready magazines with low probability shots this early in the battle so mostly lasers and particle beams. Forced out of their tight formations, the M-3 drones bored on sacrificially, intent on testing the SLDF defences even if it was at the expense of their own existences.
Achilles and Pentagon dropships of the screening force began to manoeuvre to avoid fire from the drones and return their own fire. Nibbling at each other, shots rarely enough for a kill on each other, the dropships and drones exchanged shots as the range closed.
Sevastapol was the closest of the NIKE-ships to the attack and Grec nodded. “Clear to engage with turrets, captain.”
Each broadside of the cruiser had two double turrets mounting PPCs and a triple turret with lasers. Where possible, the gunners went for damaged ships. Every ship unable to maintain thrust was one more that couldn’t ram.
“Sir, we could jam them.”
“And let them know we’re prepared for that? No, they might figure out a counter. Wait for the main force to engage.”
Finally the dropships reached the engagement range of the battleships behind the Sevastapol. For all the furious power of their capital autocannon, what made the Texas- and McKenna-class deadly were the twenty-four energy turrets along their broadsides. Every salvo that hit blew almost effortlessly through the drones.
At last confident that they could fend off this attack and replenishing ready magazines before engaging another attack, the destroyers began to open up with their autocannon and missile tubes. The M-3 drones’ numbers were cut by a half, then to a third. A wing of fighters armed with nukes made a fast pass, more than fifty aerospace fighters entering the fracturing formation and no more than thirty escaping… but twelve more drones died.
More salvos from the battleships and the surviving M-3 drones were cut apart. For a moment it seemed that none would survive… and that was certainly true but two at least broke through the fire and closed on SLS Wessex. The destroyer’s bow autocannon turret shredded one but the second rammed directly into the Wessex’s navigation bridge. The destroyer emerged from the debris, nose blunted and flanks trailing incidental scratches from the impact.
The damage done was a small return on the loss of more than a hundred drones… except that now the drones knew what they were facing and their computers were calculating how to counter the SLDF’s advantages.
Within minutes the drones were moving again and this time it wasn’t just a single wing.
This time they came like a tide, or perhaps a kraken of the deeps. The M-3 drones spread out, forcing the SLDF to spread their attention rather than focusing on the packs of M-5s moving up behind them.
“All ships,” Grec ordered quietly. “Divide up and move to support one cruiser squadron each. Wait until the M-5s are at least in effective range of our destroyers, then light them up. And don’t forget to spare the systems. They’re still fragile and they can burn out. If you have the time then shut them down and let the techs patch them up. If they’re on the edge of failing then do the same, better to lose ten minutes of coverage than the ability to provide any coverage at all.”
“We may not have time,” the captain of the Sevastapol warned.
“I know. And that’s why each ship is free to do so at their own discretion. I’m not going to micro-manage you and nor is anyone else. I am directly ordering you to preserve those systems even if squadron commanders are screaming at you not to shut down. You are the best judges of what your ships can take and I have General DeChevilier’s orders backing me up on this.” The admiral paused. “Whatever happens, the SLDF will smash the drones. We have the numbers for it. But if this works then far more ships will survive than we can expect otherwise. And that means keeping the jamming systems functional, not keeping them up 100% of the time. The lives of our fellow spacers are in our hands. And by my reckoning, they could not be in safer hands.”
One by one the captains saluted and then two of them winked out after Grec returned the gesture.
“Sir,” the captain offered, “If you’d prefer to observe the battle from the navigation bridge…”
“No, captain, although thank you for the courtesy. I have a whole squad of analysts to manage, trying to see if we can come up with better tactics to use. And you need to fight your ship, not worry about an old professor keeping his staff in line.”
“As you wish, admiral. Please be aware that you have the freedom of the bridge should you wish to make use of it.”
Grec nodded. “Duly noted, captain.” That was a kind gesture on the man’s part. In practical terms it would be a very bold captain who denied any flag officer access to any compartment, but it remained their right to so if the needs of the ship required it. To have that right pre-emptively waived was unexpected.
The attack – two attacks, really, for the SLDF force was moving aggressively itself – converged with spearheads of Caspars closing in towards the flanks. Most likely, Grec thought, they would be trying to weaken the escorting ships – the destroyers and frigates – rather than pressing in now. Thin the screening elements, keep the capital ships’ crews on edge and unable to rest. The killing blows would follow after hours had worn down the human minds behind the SLN’s ships. Computers would never weary.
For the moment Grec had freedom to observe, for Sevastapol had moved in response to an M-5 thrust that proved to be a feint. The other two NIKE-ships had each placed themselves to respond to what seemed to be the actual attacks though and the Caspars were closing towards the range he’d specified.
Initial shots were actually being fired before first one and then the second cruiser began jamming. The electronic signatures made it plain what they were doing but the behaviour of the Caspars would have given it away. Coordination broke up, restored, fractured again… ships that had been co-ordinating their fire with ruthless efficiency now scattered their fire across individual targets.
“Check which signals have the best effect,” Grec ordered as the analysts from his staff stared at the display in fascination. “Now!” he snapped when some didn’t take their eyes off it.
Like frightened animals the officers – engineers and scientists, some only holding military rank by courtesy – returned to their own consoles.
Grec shook his head but couldn’t help but sneak a long look himself as SDLF ships, now having the advantage of coordination over the drones, focused fire upon their adversaries. On one flank this wasn’t even a matter of targeting the Caspars themselves. Instead, freed of the immediate threat warships swept entire flotillas of M-3 drones aside so that fighter strikes could dive past without having to endure the massed fire of the escort drones and could deliver nuclear missiles to the Caspars.
All too soon though, the computers controlling the drones calculated the cause of this new circumstance. Even here the reactions weren’t uniform. Some drones increased or decreased their thrust, manoeuvring to try to find parts of the fleet that weren’t protected by the jamming fields.
Others found a new focus and goal. Seventeen M-3 drones and four M-5s shifted course and plunged headlong towards SLS Norfolk, the NIKE-ship in their sector.
“Cut the jammers,” Grec hissed under his breath. But he’d given the captain discretion so he didn’t transmit the order.
As he watched, the Norfolk twisted and turned, trying to evade the attackers and – sensibly – fall back among the battleships. Engaging the destroyer screen at close quarters as they passed, the M-3s were destroyed but the Caspars closed in and their bow guns ripped into the cruiser.
The jamming in the sector cut out in the same instant that the Norfolk ceased to manoeuvre or return fire.
“They’re intact,” one of the analysts noted. “Hurt, but that shouldn’t have crippled her.”
Grec tapped a control. “Captain, based on the Norfolk -” As he spoke escape pods were leaving the stricken cruiser. “- I recommend powering down the jammers before any heavy manoeuvring. I believe their power system overloaded.”
“Thank you for the information, sir.”
The Caspars managed a follow up salvo, now returning to their previous co-ordination that tore the Norfolk apart, autocannon shells breaking through the hull and smashing the structural members that held the centre of the ship together.
“There are twenty escape pods on the Norfolk and I think they all got away,” the analyst said with relief.
Grec decided not to tell the man that twenty pods would carry, at most, one hundred and twenty people. A Sovetskii Soyuz class heavy cruiser’s crew was over three hundred and full evacuation required use of shuttles. And without power to open the shuttle-bay doors…
“We’ll need more NIKE-equipped ships in future,” he observed instead. “Isolated ships are points of failure.” But the death of Norfolk and two destroyers had cost the Republicans more than twenty M-5 drones and at least five times that in M-3s.
As a kill ratio, that was far more acceptable than the losses at Al Na’ir. “We have our proof of concept,” he continued. “Now we need to work out the bugs so we can do this consistently.”
.o0O0o.
SLS McKenna’s Pride, Mizar
Federation of Skye, Lyran Commonwealth
18 February 2770
“What do you mean you’re not attacking Summer?” hissed Robert Steiner. “It’s perfectly placed to launch raids into the Commonwealth. It’s only two jumps from Skye itself!”
“And a single jump from my base of operations here,” Aleksandr Kerensky agreed calmly. “However, as much as I regret the circumstances, that has been the case for three years now. Have Amaris’ forces raided into the Commonwealth heavily? Or at all?”
“You know they haven’t,” the Archon exclaimed. “But that was before half the SLDF was mustering on my worlds, without so much as a by your leave. Naturally he’ll want to target your supply lines.”
“Under the Star League Accords, the SLDF has freedom to move its forces through any member-state without notice. I recall no such complaints when we were moving to protect your worlds from ‘bandits operating out of the Draconis Combine and Free Worlds League’.” By dint of great practise, the Commanding General kept a straight face when describing the border raiders everyone knew but could not prove were being carried out by deniable assets of the House Lords. House Steiner was no less guilty of that than the others.
He made a dismissive gesture. “In any case, Eleventh Army will remain within the Commonwealth to defend our supply lines. You may rest assured that with four Corps stationed along your borders, there are ample forces to also extend our protection to your people should Amaris be so bold as to commit an act of war against the Lyran Commonwealth.”
“I demand that you remove the Usurper’s bases along the border,” piped up Duke Lestrade indignantly.
Kerensky eyed the Duke of Skye as if he was a particularly impudent insect. Aldo Lestrade II’s bulging eyes and long, sweeping moustaches suggested something with mandibles. “Demand?”
“In the absence of a First Lord…”
“While I personally see little hope that Richard Cameron lives -” That poor, stupid boy. “- there is yet no confirmation of his death. Naturally, I hope for co-operative relationships with the Council Lords until the situation is resolved.”
There was a pause as the Lyrans parsed that sentence. No one could describe Robert Steiner’s relationship with Kerensky as co-operative.
“Do you intend a direct strike at Terra then?” Robert asked more civilly. “To bring Amaris to justice immediately.”
“Regrettably that is not yet feasible. The worlds around Terra are heavily fortified, many of them with large forces of drone warships. Moving them between systems is not a trivial affair, fortunately, but given the immense scale of Terran defences, it would take at least a year to liberate the homeworld, and much of the SLDF’s strength would have to be committed to the operation, allowing more than enough time for Amaris’ officers to gather up a vast fleet of drones, potentially thousands strong, that could grind the SLDF between a mobile force and the defences of Terra.”
“I see, but there are strong forces of drones over Summer – and at Zollikofen and Lone Star. Surely defeating them in detail would make sense as a first step.”
Kerensky nodded. “In good time. Rest assured that the forces on those worlds are merely receiving a stay of execution.”
Janos Grec’s own vessel was the only one of the three NIKE-ships to have survived the battle of Lockdale, but fewer than fifty SLN warships had been destroyed in all, thanks to the jamming. Fourth Army was still heavily engaged upon the surface, but armed with data gathered in the battle, shipyards in the Rim Worlds Republic and Federated Suns were already preparing more ships to house more compact systems, systems that would hopefully prove just as effective without exposing the vessels to crippling themselves simply by activating the jamming systems.
That would take time though, which was why Army Group Thirteen would be launching a three pronged attack on worlds that lacked heavy defences. Stefan Amaris would be given the choice between holding his forces back behind SDS systems and within Castles Brian, which would allow Kerensky to liberate twenty worlds, five of them on the edges of the core province, or to send ships and regiments out to be engaged under far more favourable terms to the SLDF.
The Terran Hegemony was shaped like an irregular diamond, shorter edges bordering the Lyrans and the Free Worlds League, longer edges bordering the Draconians and Capellans. The Federated Suns’ border with the Hegemony was the furthest tip of that diamond from Terra itself. As such, despite the herculean efforts of Joan Brandt and John Davion, Army Group Eleven was really no closer to the mother world than Kerensky’s own Army Group was.
Not to deny their efforts, he reminded himself. Billions of Hegemony citizens have been freed from Amaris’ tyranny.
“I suppose I have little choice but to acquiesce,” the Archon concluded, grudgingly. “Be assured though, I will hold you accountable for any damage done to worlds of the Commonwealth.”
“I can assure you, Archon, that the thought you might not hadn’t crossed my mind.”
As the Archon and his lickspittle were escorted courteously away from his office, Kerensky dismissed them from his mind and checked his message queue. Nothing from Aaron yet. Not surprising, given communications across Blake’s network of HPG stations remained a thin web across the Hegemony. To avoid notice, the stations transmitted only cautiously.
Somewhere on the far side of the Hegemony, Third Army were launching their attacks on Errai and Small World, pinning down troops that might otherwise be moved to support Lockdale’s defences.
The general’s eyes strayed to the map of the Hegemony, singling out a single star system no more than two jumps away from Mizar. Using its Lithium Fusion battery, the McKenna’s Pride could have him in the system by the end of the day.
“Katyusha,” he murmured, before iron discipline snapped back into place and he returned to the day-to-day affairs of managing five armies – a hundred and fourteen divisions – as well as the sprawling lines of supply and communication that trailed back to the edges of the Star League, consuming the resources of three more armies just to adequately secure them.
-
Crimson Springs, Lockdale
Lockdale Province, Terran Hegemony
1 March 2770
The Demon fired its Gauss Rifle and Ethan Moreau saw the slug smash through the armour over the Culverin’s right track, immobilising the fighting vehicle as it tried to turn around and bring its autocannon to bear.
With a cry of frustration, the Mechwarrior scrambled his ‘Mech up and over the ruins that had once been an apartment block, entering the street behind the wheeled Demon.
The Republican tank tried to reverse around him, but Ethan brought the Orion’s foot forward, hooking it under the edge of the side-armour. Raising the flat foot upwards, he forced the Demon up, throwing all the weight of his ‘Mech into the pivot.
Seventy-five tons of ‘Mech overpowered sixty tons of tank and the Demon rolled, the turret smashing open the glass front of the shop on the side of the road. The mass was too much for his gyro though and Ethan’s eyes widened as he realised he was past the point of no return. His Orion crashed down on its back.
“Ow.”
“Moreau, I could kiss you,” Pritchard yelled over the comms.
“Promises, promises.”
“Or Johann could, whatever floats your boat.”
“No, no I’m fine.” He braced the elbows of the Orion and started to right himself. “So why the effusions of gratitude? You didn’t take that much damage, did you?”
“It’s a Demon!” the armor officer explained. “And it’s basically intact.”
“Oh, of course.” ****** treadheads. And they said Mechwarriors were in love with their rides. “Charlie Company, rally on my position.”
There were confirmations across the radio as the ‘Mechs of his company worked their way through the city towards him. Gleason was dead, a gauss slug from another Demon had taken the head off his Orion. Chapman’s Orion was also down for the count but he’d managed to eject before the SRM ammunition bin’s detonation had blown a hole through the left side of his fusion bottle. Now he joined forces with Pritchard’s crew as they disembarked from their crippled Culverin and made their way towards the Demon.
Tiger-Free was in one of the Guillotines that filled out the company and she was able to jump through the worst of the wreckage, joining Ethan in threatening the Demon’s crew once he was upright again.
With a pair of heavy ‘Mechs menacing them, the Republican soldiers decided discretion was the better part of valour and disembarked, surrendering the vehicle to the tankers.
“Could you roll it back onto its wheels?” the lieutenant asked pleasantly as Ranson rushed back to the Culverin, returning with two spray cans of paint and a plastic stencil.
Ethan shook his head. “You’re going to keep fighting in a Republican vehicle?”
“We’ll paint some SLDF markings on it,” she assured him.
“I’m not sure we can, actually,” he admitted. Neither of the two ‘Mechs left in his command lance had hand actuators. In fact, as the two surviving ‘Mechs of his second lance moved up, he reflected that not one of the seven ‘Mechs left in Charlie Company had hands. Hooker’s Thug had been the only one that did, but the Lyran volunteer – a Nagelring graduate who’d deserted to join the SLDF in ’68 – had lost his Thug to a knee-capping by infantry the previous day and right now he was back in the regimental cantonment, waiting for a replacement.
“Oh come on, you kicked it over once. How hard can it be?”
“Well, I don’t suppose we’re worse off if we try.” He moved the Orion up against the wall of the building, Tiger-Free doing the same on the other side. Bracing one weapon arm each on the building (Ethan winced as a window broke) they each lifted a foot and carefully placed it against the upper edge of the Demon.
Just as they were about to push, Ethan saw movement behind Tiger-Free’s ‘Mech. “Look out!”
The other ‘Mechwarrior hesitated just a little too long and a PPC bolt smashed squarely into her rear armour. Laser fire followed, lighting up the smoky air of the city, and seventy-tons of ‘Mech crashed down onto the Demon.
The perpetrator was a Black Knight, a sleeker and more advanced ‘Mech than Ethan’s Orion, although about the same size. There were three of them in fact, another pair stalking into view and firing not at him but the fallen and vulnerable Tiger-Free. The advanced sensor probe fitted to Black Knights gave them an advantage in the confines of the city where magnetics and infra-red were almost useless.
“Hostiles sighted!” Ethan yelled, moving up to shield the fallen Mech with his Orion. He’d taken damage already but he could weather the storm of fire better than she could.
“On our way, sir!”
“Third lance,” he ordered, settling his crosshairs over the chest of the first Black Knight. “Move up the next street and outflank them.” The range was too close for his LRMs, but lasers, SRMs and autocannon blazed away, warming his cockpit and carving into the rounded armour plating covering the Black Knight.
In return the Black Knight’s large lasers battered at him. The initial salvos must have pushed their heat to the limit, forcing them to hold back some of their armament.
“I’m okay, sir.” Tiger-Free’s Guillotine struggled upright as second lance joined them. The Demon wound up back on its wheels as the seventy-tonner extricated itself. Unfortunately for Pritchard, the turret had been torn half-loose from the chassis as well.
A second volley of lasers set Ethan staggering. His autocannon loaded its last clip of ammunition as one leg buckled, knee half-severed. The young Mechwarrior speared the left arm of his Orion into the building, holding himself upright but taking the laser and the missile launcher in the arm out of play. He fired the autocannon and was pleased to see the shots tearing gaping holes into the Black Knight. Coolant flowed out from the penetrations like blood until valves closed off the ruptured piping.
The three Guillotines moved forward to close the distance – like the Black Knights they had formidable laser batteries most effective at short ranges. From around a corner, missiles and autocannon tracer began to flay the right-most Black Knight, severing one arm above the elbow.
Alright, we have this, he thought.
With an obnoxious blare, his radio sprang to life. “All stations, this is 225th Command. Code Charlie Omega. I repeat, Charlie Omega. Seal all hatches. Dismounted infantry mask up. Code Charlie Omega.”
Colour drained from Ethan’s face as he heard the warning of a chemical attack. Crimson Springs had had a population of over a million. The best estimate was that less than a quarter of them had evacuated and while there were sealed shelters for civil defence, they dated back to the twenty-fourth century and intel had reported Rim infantry using them as bunkers.
Scanning his surroundings he saw Pritchard’s crew had rushed back into their Culverin, dragging Chapman with them.
“Sir.” Tiger-Free’s voice was unnervingly calm. “My cockpit glass broke when I took that fall. I have negative seal.”
“Christ.” Ethan looked around for something, anything she could get into.
“Just give me some room.”
Tiger-Free’s Guillotine jumped towards the three Republican heavies. The Mech was off-balance, arms flailing wildly – she must have taken her hands off the controls.
Not even a city’s clutter could disguise the rapidly rising infra-red signature of the ‘Mech as it crashed down among the Black Knights, face to face with one of them.
The first explosion within was the SRM ammunition, tearing the Guillotine open at the waist. Cold city air rushed into the chest and encountered the reactor, building maximum power with all safeties off. The explosion had shredded the reactor shielding and seconds later the superheated air rushed out.
All four ‘Mechs vanished in the fireball of Tiger-Free’s funeral pyre.
.o0O0o.
Avalon City, New Avalon
Crucis March, Federated Suns
12 April 2770
“John, please turn that off. We need to talk.”
No husband wants to hear those words and John took them seriously, stopping the opera playing on the wall and rising to greet Edwina.
Hanse also stood. “I know when I’d be a third wheel,” he observed, stepping around the oblivious Edwina. “See you in the morning, John.”
Edwina let John kiss her cheek and then gestured to the chairs. “This might take a while.”
“I’ve always got time for you.”
“When I remind you, yes.”
“What?” he asked, thinking back over the last few days. Had he done anything to spark this? “I don’t understand.”
“That may not have come out right,” she conceded. “John, when was the last time you took a break?”
“Well I’m not working now.”
Edwina reached over and put her hand on the noteputer beside John’s chair. “So this is just loaded with recreational material? Not, for example, reports on the war? Or the refugee situation?”
The prince spread his hands slightly in surrender. “Just in case something came to mind.”
“Really.” She lifted her hand and cupped his cheek. “John, I don’t think you’ve taken two straight days off to rest since the coup. And not one since you went to New Rhodes more than a year ago! You’re burning yourself out.”
John frowned. That wasn’t right, was it? He’d… well, what was the last time he’d scheduled a break from his responsibilities? Nothing came to mind since news of Brandt’s death at Al Na’ir. Possibly not for a while before that, honestly. “The fact I have to think about it supports your position,” he conceded. “But with so much to do, it’s not really a good time for me to take a vacation. The work isn’t going to go away?”
“And who’s going to do it if you work yourself to the point of collapse?” she countered. “I’m worried about you. This war… perhaps longer than that. When you became Prince I knew you’d be burdened but now you act as if the full weight of the entire Star League is on your shoulders, as if only you can save it… I want Joshua’s children to have a grandfather who can spoil them, not a mausoleum they visit sometimes.”
“Children? Is he seeing someone seriously?”
Edwina shook her head. “You even missed that? He’s courting the representative from Delphos – remember he introduced her to you.”
“I thought he was doing that because we’re family,” he replied in surprise. He had some recollection of the young woman, she’d seemed quite self-possessed. The sort of… Hanse’s amusement when John had mentioned that he hoped Joshua found someone like that to take an interest with suddenly fell into place. “Isn’t she married to Thomas Halder-Davion?” They’d agreed early on that the personal history of the next few generations of House Davion were off limits. He didn’t want to spend the rest his life counting down the days of his loved one’s lives.
“Thomas is Mary’s brother, John.”
He could imagine the chagrin on his face. “Oh. It’s a good thing I haven’t really spoken to her then. Not that I don’t want to talk to the young woman in our son’s life but…”
Edwina left her seat and knelt in front of him, taking his hands in hers. “The war isn’t going to end soon,” she told him sympathetically. “There are going to be more battles, more refugees and – God help us – more atrocities like Lockdale. That’s not your fault and it’s not your responsibility alone.” She smiled fondly. “I know better than to try to persuade you it’s not your responsibility at all.”
“I saw it coming,” John told her, the words bubbling out of him. “I tried to stop it, I tried to stop him. God, I sent an assassin after Amaris. And it’s not enough. It’s never enough. I look at the reports from the Hegemony and all I can think of is that if the League falls then our people will suffer the same way.”
He bent over in anguish and his wife enfolded him in her arms. “Oh John!”
They remained like that, half in and half out of the chair, until his breath steadied and he could bear to look her in the eyes again.
What he saw wasn’t condemnation but simply acceptance. “John, you can’t do this to yourself,” she murmured, pushing him lightly to shuffle aside in the chair. It wasn’t really large enough for two adults but they made it work somehow. “How long have you been bottling this up inside?”
“I… Demeter was the start.”
“Yes, that would make sense.” She rested her cheek against his shoulder. “Before then I could persuade you that rest meant more than cutting your workload to just two or three pieces of business.”
John snorted despite himself. He wasn’t that bad. Or at least he hadn’t been. More recently, perhaps. “I realised then that it wasn’t just that the Star League couldn’t act to save one of us if we were attacked, the Star League couldn’t save itself. Not without a Council willing to put the whole above our individual ambitions. Their… our hatreds.”
“You worked with Takiro to try to rein Richard in. That must have been hard.”
“Richard wasn’t the problem. We left him to be spoiled by his servants and alone for Amaris to get his claws into the boy. Simon died trying to remind us of how much the Star League mattered and he was barely buried before we forgot all about him.”
“You never forgot, John. Don’t say that. I remember how shocked you were at the news. Before then maybe. You put your people first when you took the throne. And after Simon died you threw your support behind Kerensky more than any of the other Lords.” Edwina still had his hands between her smaller ones. “And it’s working. Chancellor Liao has sent soldiers to support the SLDF. Kerensky is smashing every attempt that Amaris makes to retake the worlds being liberated.”
“And worlds still burn.”
“I know.” Lockdale was a dying world. The chemical agents unleashed on the SLDF spearheads hadn’t been the only damage done, or even the worst. Nuclear attacks on the factories that made the world valuable had sent clouds of radioactive dust soaring into the atmosphere. Between that and the aftermath of the chemicals, there was no longer enough farmland to feed even the diminished population – and it might be decades before that could be undone.
A trickle of refugees from the affected regions had become a flood as people saw the writing on the wall and tried to get their families – their children – to safety before exposure built up to dangerous levels. The refugees from the cities hit directly would be the last to be evacuated from the camps SLDF engineers had established for them. If any of them lived long enough, for even thousands of jumpships would take years to ferry the remaining populace away.
The remaining worlds of the Hegemony couldn’t absorb that sort of influx so John had opened the doors of the Suns. Spread across hundreds of worlds, some of them raw colonies desperate for labour, the Lockdalites could be accommodated – with the Suns’ industries struggling to not only supply the SLDF but also to replace tooling and machinery that they’d relied on Hegemony firms to build and maintain, the industrial workers would be welcomed.
But they wouldn’t be the last. They weren’t even the latest. Outnumbered by the SLDF, the Rim Worlds forces were fighting with vicious fury, heedless of the collateral damage. Or perhaps even courting it, knowing that every regiment providing relief to the civilian population was one that wasn’t shooting at them.
“If the Star League falls, then all the horrors on Hamal, on Lockdale… they’ll be here too. How can they not see that?” he whispered. “How can they all be so blind?”
“They won’t. Our worlds won’t suffer that,” she assured him. “You’ll see to that. But you need all your strength for that. All the brilliance – no, I’m not exaggerating. I know what the predictions were for the economy after the Hegemony’s trade was lost and you’ve steered us out of that disaster. All that, and your heart too. But you can’t do it alone, John. Let us in. Let me, Joshua, let us help you. Trust us, as we trust you, to carry our loads so that you can rest at times.”
John turned to look down at her, feeling her hair brushing against his chin. “I’ll try.”
Edwina squeezed his hands. “Come to bed and rest, love.”
“Alright.” He looked past her at the noteputer for a moment. “Just one thing.”
“John,” she said warningly.
He smiled and kissed her brow. “A message for Owen when he gets in tomorrow. To clear a day of my schedule sometime soon. I’m not sure I’m up to a week off yet, but perhaps I can work up to it.”
-
Two great pieces, thank you.
Love the armor crews reaction to the Demon
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damn... epic funeral pyre :'(
-
Brockton, North America
Terra, Terran Hegemony
14 May 2770
Ellen Davis didn’t pay much attention to the bell at the door of the bakery. It was a mark of the old world charm that her employer sought for the store that the store had a hinged door with a bell that rang to signal a customer’s arrival rather than an automatic sliding door like most shops in Brockton’s small shopping district.
The young woman was fully engaged in kneading dough. The bakery didn’t sell mass-produced loaves, like a general store or a supermarket. Every loaf was made fresh on site, which accounted for the significantly higher prices. What little Ellen’s school economics course she recalled had at first left her wondering how the shop survived.
Then she’d met the clientele and understood. The upwardly-aspiring families of Brockton, many of them commuting daily into one of the great urban metropolises of the East Coast, had their own brand of snobbery. Fresh bread, hand-made the same day it was eaten, was as much a mark of status as it was a foodstuff for them.
“Ellen.” James Baker was well-named for his trade. “Your young man’s here.”
She blinked, looked around and saw Dean standing on the other side of the counter. “Dean?”
He waved one hand. “I thought we could lunch together,” he offered. “I know I’m a little early but I’ve a picnic basket in the car.”
“Ah, to be young,” Baker laughed.
“I’m kind of in the middle -” Ellen protested, holding up her floury hands.
Her boss shook his head. “I think I can manage,” he assured her. “I know you’ve been pulling extra hours to cover for Diana while her sister’s ill, so take some time back for yourself.” Baker looked up at the clock – outside of Ellen’s view. “Take a long lunch today,” he told her. “Just be back for two. Mrs White will be here, and you know she loves those west coast manners of yours.”
Ellen shrugged in defeat. “Just let me wash up.” She headed for the sink.
Behind her – the store was open plan – she heard Baker asking Dean if ‘this was the big day’. It took the young woman a second to realise what he meant and then she flushed. Small town gossip was alive and well in Brockton. It wasn’t precisely a scandal that a man and woman were living together unmarried but she’d picked up enough hints to guess that token amounts of money were at stake over what happened first – buying rings together or maternity leave.
When she came out, Dean led her to the ground car. An older model, and one that she knew he’d been putting hours into at the workshop he was employed at. While not quite a junker, the car’s appearance didn’t betray the power and reliability of its working systems.
There was a basket in the back-seat as promised – but in the back, under a blanket, were the shapes she recognised as rucksacks. “Dean?” Ellen asked when the doors were closed.
Rafael pulled smoothly away from the curb, not looking aside. “We have to go, Helena.”
“What happened?” Helena Cameron asked, eyes flickering to the roadside, looking for OPD or Krypteria agents.
“It’s not us,” he assured her. “There was a bombing twenty minutes ago, an imperial supply convoy crossing the bridge. Brockton’s the nearest town so…”
Her face paled. “But Mr Baker… Diana, everyone else…?”
“There’s nothing we can do. Roadblocks will be in place everywhere before the hour’s out. We have to move now or we’ll be trapped.”
“But… couldn’t we at least have warned them?”
“You come first,” Rafael told her in a tone that wasn’t quite as flat as he intended.
Helena swallowed. “I’m not worth this.”
“Not worth what?” He glanced aside at her briefly. “Living?”
She saw his fingers were tight around the wheel as they crossed Brockton’s boundaries and he opened up the throttle. “No one wants another Cameron.”
“That’s Njari talking.” Samir Njari was Amaris’ minister for media, head of the organisation responsible for ensuring that the news channels reported favourably upon the Emperor and affairs of state. If the official reports were true, then Amaris was twice the saint that even Helena’s brother had thought him to be.
Brockton would be in the news today, something about how ‘more in sorrow than in anger’ the Amaris Empire had made the denizens of the town pay for their part in the attack on the convoy.
“Diana’s sister is with a resistance group,” Rafael added grimly. “She’s not really ill, after all.”
“She’s not?”
The Federated Suns officer gave her a grim smile. “I wasn’t associated with them, of course, too great a risk, but I kept an eye on locals who might help if we needed them. I don’t know if they were connected higher up the chain but there was some whispering about the idea that some Camerons have escaped Amaris. They seemed to think it was a good thing.”
Helena studied her hands. “What do they think a Cameron can do?” she asked wearily. “I’m a baker, not a soldier! I haven’t even been to college, what sort of leader could I be?”
“I can’t tell you what Prince Davion expects of you,” Rafael told her. “But when we were sent here, he told us there were three reasons to try to save the people we were sent for.”
“Like what?”
“Firstly, it’s a tactic. Everyone we were sent for is someone Amaris would want to have either dead or in his hands, so as long as some of you are kept from him he’ll be furiously diverting efforts to search for you, resources that might otherwise be used to fight Kerensky. And in pursuit of you, he’ll show his true colours to the Hegemony.”
“Like Brockton.”
“Yes, like Brockton. You know what the media’s been claiming, that Kerensky is burning entire worlds for refusing to surrender to him. But with rumours of what Amaris is doing here, who do you think people believe is really committing atrocities?”
Helena nodded slowly. “What else did your Prince say?”
“Secondly, he told us that everyone he sent us for could play a small part in saving the Star League. We can’t save everyone, but the more people who are working to save the League, the better the chances are of averting a larger, wider war.”
“Larger and wider than this?”
“The prince said, and I believe him, that if the Star League falls then all of humanity will face a new age of war, fought with the rage and fury of the fighting in the Periphery. If we can stop that, then we save millions upon millions of lives.”
“That’s hard to imagine.” She shuddered in the seat. Is that what being a ruler is, having to consider such things? Father in heaven, take this cup from me.
“And finally, he told us that while none of you were perfect, nor did you deserve to die for the hatreds and ambitions of Stefan Amaris. That makes protecting you a good and just thing to do, in a universe where it isn’t always clear what’s right or just, so we should take the chance presented to something that’s both.”
“He said that?”
“As near as I remember, that’s his exact words.” The soldier smiled self-disparagingly. “I have a fairly decent memory.”
“Frighteningly so, especially when it comes to household chores.” Until Rafael took her away, Helena had never once had to tidy up after herself, much less clean dishes or laundry. It had been an odd price for anonymity but she’d learned to enjoy being Ellen Davis.
And now Amaris had taken that away from her as well.
.o0O0o.
Charleston, North America
Terra, Terran Hegemony
18 May 2770
Not even the vast trans-oceanic tunnels could carry all the freight that travelled between Terra’s continents. Helena’s tutors had taught her that it was a never-ending struggle to move the necessary goods from where they were made or shipped in to the places that they were wanted by twelve billion citizens.
Goods too large for the tunnels and which didn’t merit the expense of an orbital hop by dropship – or going to destinations not convenient for either – still went by sea.
The sprawling off-shore docks of Charleston formed an artificial reef three kilometres offshore from the historic city. Surface and submersible freight-haulers docked along the outer edge, unlike cruiser liners that received places with a better view of the reclaimed coast.
Rafael had sold the car for cash to a dealer outside Philadelphia who’d asked what even Helena realised were suspiciously few questions. A quick haircut and a change of clothes had sufficed to change their identities to the man’s satisfaction before he rented an air car and flew as far as Atlanta.
Despite the temptation of the busy spaceport, they’d only stayed in the city overnight. Security on flights was far too tight to risk actually trying to board a dropship headed away from Terra, but the flow of people in and out of the city made the city an excellent place to cover their trails.
Rafael had been apologetic that the hotel room had only a single bed. It didn’t bother Helena to share, after three years of sharing a house to share a bed. Sleep hadn’t come easily and occasionally brushing against him didn’t make that easier, but it was at least reassurance that whatever happened she wasn’t alone. There was someone there who cared about her wellbeing, even if it was because his prince told him to.
Hair dye, more clothes… not from their bags this time but a second-hand store. Running them through a public laundry then digging out fresh luggage – harder to find second-hand so Rafael had bought cheap shoulder bags and they’d spent an hour scuffing them up – had taken most of a day.
The train from Atlanta had been overnight to reach here and Helen was feeling the ache of sleeping in a seat as she hauled her bag off the platform. This wasn’t the nicer terminal used by people expecting to embark on one of the liners. The train terminated here, out on the docks, one stop further and the small number of remaining passengers were dressed in hard-wearing waterproofs like those they wore.
“Where now?” she asked.
“Not much further.” He held his bag with an enviable ease. “A little bit of a walk.”
And so they walked along the dock, past what she guessed was the coast guard station – now flying the imperial flag and along the row of ships. Heavy haulers crawled along, barely at walking pace, moving parts of what Helena guessed might be a deep-water mining rig along. Even larger cranes were moving loads on and off the ships, sometimes unprotected machinery and other times crates the size of entire dropships.
“Here we are.” Rafael stopped opposite the dull-red hull of ship already loaded down with two such crates, a third being secured by a dozen men and women.
“Gatcham,” she read off the side. “What does that mean?”
“I haven’t the least notion, but it’s our destination.”
There was a walkway up from the dock to a door part-way up the side of the structure at the rear of the mammoth ship. The door was closed but a knock from Rafael had a young man, around her own age, pull it open.
“Yes?”
“Ian Ralphson and Greta Heller, we’re reporting aboard.”
“Reporting aboard?” the man said blankly. “First I’ve heard about it.”
“Why don’t you check with your captain,” Rafael said patiently.
The door closed and Helena gave her companion a concerned look. He shook his head and leant against the rail. Helena tried to mimic his lack of concern opposite, glancing down occasionally at the water. She hadn’t been near the sea since leaving Unity City.
It took five nerve-wracking minutes for the door to open. This time it was a woman, squatly built with her hair crammed up under a knit cap. “Ian, is it?”
Rafael cracked a smile. “Mike.”
“Shut up and come aboard.” The gruff response defused any momentary pang in Helena at Rafael’s warm – relatively – response to the woman. “Captain’ll see you.”
With the door shut, Mike glared at Rafael. “You’ve got a lot of nerve, coming here.”
“Limited choices. We almost got caught in a sweep after a resistance cell ran amok.”
“Why here, not Panama?”
“Yuri got picked up there, along with his package. I think that route’s busted.”
“Shit.” The woman looked at Helena. “Sorry, kid.”
Helena gave her a shrug, not sure she was getting an apology for.
Up two steep stairs, Mike gestured to a door. “I better get the load secured so we can get out of harbour before someone does a random check or something. Captain’s in there.” She rapped her knuckles on a door as she set off.
“Come in!”
Helena opened the door and entered cautiously. It was a cramped room, not much more than a bunk bed, the upper bunk crammed with cardboard boxes, a desk and three chairs crammed around it. The young man from earlier occupied the gap between desk and wall – bulkhead? – that was the only way around it, and a middle-aged woman in a woollen jersey was behind it.
“So you’ll be Helena,” the woman said warmly.
With a little shriek, Helena tried to back-pedal only to run into Rafael.
“It’s okay,” he assured her and then looked past her. “Ma’am.”
“Hmm. You’ve been as tight-lipped as Mike is.” She shook her head. “Benjy, go tell your sister that she’ll have a new bunk-mate for the next few weeks. Kristy will be in here with me.”
The young man – Benjy, obviously – gave the box-crammed bunk a dubious look.
“Well caught,” the captain said calmly. “Once you’re done, come back here and help me find places for all that. Out.”
There was an awkward little dance around the door as they made room for Benjy to leave, then the older woman waved them to the chairs. “You look like you could do with some hot chocolate,” she assessed, opening a cabinet to reveal a tiny coffee machine. “Don’t worry, Lady Cameron. I’ve as much, if not more, to lose if we’re caught than you do.”
“Please don’t call me that,” Helena said miserably.
“Ah, security. Yes, my bad there. In my defence, you don’t really look like a Greta. Call me Cynthia DeKirk, that’s what it says on my papers. Actually, call me captain. You’re supposed to be part of my crew, at least until we find a port to stash you.”
Helena nodded. “Yes, captain.”
“They’re all louts in the Federated Suns,” DeKirk added, with a sly look at Rafael. “I should know, I married one of the hicks.”
“Is he… okay, ma’am?”
“I assume so. Amaris would likely make a big fuss in the media if Aaron was killed. He certainly made enough of a fuss about Joan. I feel for her husband wherever he is.” The cup in the coffee maker filled with hot water and Cynthia dropped a tea-spoon into it before passing it over to Helena. “Give it a good stir and then we’ll thrash out what you’ll be doing aboard. Have to have some excuse to add the two of you to the crew. Do you have any useful skills?”
“I’m a baker?” she said tentatively.
“You can cook?” Cynthia brightened immediately. “Oh thank god, I am so sick of being the only one aboard who can do more than heat up a frozen dinner.”
-
Novals, New Avalon
Crucis March, Federated Suns
3 June 2770
Halfway around the globe from Avalon City but conveniently only a few hundred miles from Achernar MechWorks and the network of component manufacturers that fed the Federated Suns’ capital’s military-industrial sector, the new Lycomb facility was burrowed deep underground, the surface facilities just the tip of an iceberg.
“Please extend my condolences to Prince John and his family,” Perry Lycomb asked as he and Thomas Green-Davion sat opposite each other, laboriously checking clause after clause of the contracts they were about to sign.
Lawyers had studied the documentation first, of course. Many times, with the intensity of a major dissertation review. Dozens of changes had been made and then delivered for consideration and dispute by the other party’s experts. But at the end of the day, the entire crux of the deal that enabled this factory to begin operations would be approval from the two men that the documents they signed truly reflected the agreement between House Davion and Lycomb IntroTechnologies.
“I’ll be sure to do so.” This would have been among John’s first duty after a two week vacation in the New Hebrides islands, but fate had conspired otherwise. Ten days into his first holiday in almost five years, the First Prince had been called back the Avalon City – not by political trouble but by something more personal.
His mother Janet had suffered a sudden stroke overnight. At only seventy-five, it had been unexpected and by the time a dropship had dragged John back to the capital, it was too late for him to do more than set up a state funeral – to the private clucking of high society, whose finely-bred sensibilities had noted that as her husband hadn’t been First Prince himself, Janet wasn’t entitled to be treated as Princess Dowager.
That clucking was very very quiet, though.
At last, satisfied that the contract matched both his own recollection and the electronic copy beside him, Green-Davion signed the necessary block on the final page, confirming his assent on behalf of the First Prince and the Federated Suns.
It took a moment for the CEO to catch up and the two men exchanged the signed documents, beginning a second detailed study. In many ways it was stupid, painstaking and time consuming, but at the same time it was the one thing that could be counted on – because beyond the courts and legal procedure, the worth of the contract relied upon the honour of the men signing it and only an abject fool would put his name and word to a contract that he only had an adversary’s word, however cordial, for the content of.
“I’m glad that Prince Davion agreed to the clause about the SLDF preferential access,” Lycomb added as he checked his own copy. “We could have come to an agreement without it, but with General Kerensky in so much need of war material, some of the shareholders were quite insistent.”
“His highness is deeply committed to the cause of the Star League,” Green-Davion pointed out. “The exact wording of the clause might be considered a rebuke to the other Lords on the Star League Council.”
The executive ran his finger down the paragraph in question. “‘Insomuch as the Federated Suns is a loyal member state of the Star League, House Davion yields the right of refusal over all military production by Lycomb-Davion to the Star League Defense Force conditional on second refusal at the same prices is made available to the Armed Forces of the Federated Suns and under no circumstances to any agency or realm which may be deemed hostile to the interests of the Federated Suns.’ Oh yes, I can see how they might feel slighted. Still, it’s odd given how insistent he was on obtaining access to heavy fighters for the AFFS. He won’t get a single Stuka until the war is over, or so I suspect. Possibly not for years afterwards.”
“We’ll see.” Green-Davion turned the page. “His highness takes the long view and since you agreed to the security clauses, I think he feels that he can at least be assured that the Lycomb-Davion subsidiary will remain in operation even if hostilities should begin again around Demeter.”
“Oh surely they will not. After all, Chancellor Liao has thrown her support behind General Kerensky, so relations between the Federated Suns and the Capellans should thaw now that there’s a common cause.”
“One can always hope,” the field marshal agreed blandly. It was about as realistic as expecting that the entire SDS network of Terra would suffer a crippling and irreversible breakdown and start blockading the world for Kerensky in his opinion, but a warming of relations with Sian was at least theoretically possible.
This time the two men finished at around the same time and they signed their names, completing the contracts, together.
“That’s that, then.” Lycomb turned to his aide. “Issue the instructions to Demeter to start shipping the tooling here.”
Green-Davion consulted his watch. “Plenty of time to get today’s transmission batch,” he noted.
“Yes, the schedule works out nicely.” The other man offered his hand. “Twelve months to get a basic Stuka into production, maybe another six for the SLDF’s requested modifications. I imagine they’ll take the K5 models until we’re up to speed but if General Kerensky prefers to wait then the first runs will be there for the AFFS next July.”
They shook hands and Green-Davion put his copy away in his attaché case, handing it to his aide. “A lot can happen in a year, we’ll see how things stand. I doubt you’ll have issues selling Stukas, whoever the buyer.”
“Very true. Will you be going back to Avalon City today?”
“I’m catching the nine o’clock sub-orbital.” Which would leave him in New Avalon in the mid-morning, but it wasn’t as if he kept regular hours anyway.
“Perhaps I could offer you an early dinner then? My wife’s just expressed satisfaction that our house here is ready to entertain.”
The field marshal considered. “I’d be delighted,” he said at last. “I should make one last inspection of the security facilities before I leave, but if you’re sure it’s not an imposition…”
“Nothing of the kind.” The executive reached for his phone. “If we fly out of the heliport here at four we can eat at five and have you at the drop-port with time to spare.”
“I’ll place myself in your hands then.” Leaving the arrangements in the executive’s hands, Green-Davion left the office and looked at his attaché. “Hand that off to the courier and be back by four. Catch a nap if you have time, jet-lag’s got a way of sneaking up on you.”
“Thank you, sir.”
The security facility on site was what John had insisted upon in the contract – in case of any attack by terrorists such as the one that had rocked Demeter ten years before the entire site was ringed by intricate sensors. The command and control for this was buried beneath what seemed like simply another entrance to the underground complex, but in order to ensure that they were no threat to the technological secrets that Lycomb had brought to the jointly-owned subsidiary, the subterranean levels of the security facility didn’t interlink at all with the firm’s structures.
So much the better, thought Green-Davion as he was logged past the security checkpoints. The vehicle bays that housed the on-site tank company and the barracks for their infantry counterparts were only a tiny portion of the whole. The entire complex had been dug out by a construction company wholly owned by House Davion and the levels Lycomb-Davion would occupy were little more than half of their true extent.
An elevator carried the Field Marshal down to another check-point where he had to switch to a second elevator that would carry him the rest of the way. It would make regular deliveries of supplies difficult but the permanent staff here wasn’t numerous, merely very carefully chosen.
Behind the final checkpoint, he entered a corridor that circled the hidden facility buried under Lycomb-Davion’s new factory. Within the circle were the life support systems, not just air circulation but also living quarters for the scientists.
On the outside of the circle were the workshops and laboratories. The first door he came to was open and through it he could see a heavy industrial exo-skeleton, something that weighed almost as much as a small ground-car, laid out on its back as what he recognised as oxy-nitrogen bottles were attached. “Making a start already?”
Startled, the coverall-clad man overseeing the work looked over and then quickly moved over to Green-Davion, closing the door behind him. “Everyone’s very eager to begin, sir.”
“Even with the risks, Doctor Cole?”
“Pff.” The engineer saved his hand dismissively. “The previous incidence was because the teams were too intent on copying the Hegemony’s work slavishly. With so many parts and components being obtained that mirrored the actual pre-production it’s no surprise that their purpose was identified. What we’re doing is something new, something original that even the Hegemony hasn’t thought to try.”
Forty-five years before, when the Hegemony first completed their Nighthawk powered armour, they’d responded to attempts by the member-states to covertly duplicate their work with a series of commando raids, eradicating both the espionage cells responsible for stealing data and sample components and the labs working to extrapolate from this up to a completed copy. To the best of Green-Davion’s knowledge, no state had escaped that purge or dared to protest at being caught trying to circumvent the Technology-Transfer laws.
“The Hegemony, you see, they worked up.” Cole gestured upwards. “Starting from then human form, then building outwards with a new generation of exo-skeletal systems, more compact than anything seen before. We though, we are building down. Taking an exo-skeleton large enough to carry the armour and weapons required and then scaling them down into an integrated whole. What will their spies report? That the Federated Suns is purchasing more parts for the exo-skeletons already used for thousands of tasks across the Suns? The shock they will experience!” He shook his head. “Truthfully, Field Marshal, the vast majority of supplies we need will be mere rounding errors to the AFFS’ existing purchases of the kind. The state of the art has moved along over the last two generations.”
“Well, I hope you’re right. I don’t want be told one morning that everyone here has been found dead with a rat shoved down their throats.”
That thought seemed to shake the doctor of engineering a little, but he recovered his confidence almost immediately. “His highness’ concept for heavier battle armour, suitable for the tunnel fighting inside a Castle Brian, is brilliant. We will bring it to fruition for him.” The man paused. “The research is not the risk, you understand. It is when you start commissioning the full scale manufacture of components that we can scratch-build for our prototypes. That is when we might be revealed.”
“We have ways and means,” Green-Davion assured him. “Just get us to that stage, Doctor, and the Federated Suns will have a new weapon not shared with any other state. Not even with the SLDF.”
.o0O0o.
Ashanti, Small World
Lockdale Province, Terran Hegemony
29 August 2770
There were both advantages and disadvantages to having a company under her command now, Alexandra Davion thought. On the one hand she had more tools to deal with a problem. On the other she tended to be given bigger problems to deal with.
“It’s not that we can’t take them out,” Leftenant Martin explained a little sheepishly from his cockpit. “But we probably can’t take them all out without a lot of collateral damage.”
“Yeah, good call.” She was currently on a rooftop with a monocular unfolded so she could look at the current problem without getting any closer.
The issue were six industrial Mechs, each sporting cobbled together weapon packs. As a threat, she was fairly sure her infantry could take them out without any further support but that would take time and assumed that none of the Republican hold-outs were inclined to turn their weapons upon the school they were outside of.
Or for that matter, just missing a target and firing into one of the other buildings nearby by accident. The light commerce and residential buildings wouldn’t stand up too well to even light weapons fire and she doubted that the conversions had military grade targeting systems.
“The good news is that they don’t have fusion reactors. Even if they brew up they’ll likely just burn themselves, not everything within twenty metres. The bad news is that making them brew up will take a good bit of damage.” She closed up the monocular and started wriggling back out of view. “You did the right thing, Leftenant. Charging in with your ‘Mechs would have got a lot of civilians killed. Because of your restraint we have the chance to minimise those risks.”
Martin’s lance had been attached to her company as part of a general dispersion of the Fifty-Sixth Avalon Hussars to support garrisons all across the continent. Given the regiment’s inexperience – only formed up five years ago and pulled together from academy graduates plus a small cadre – they’d showed surprising professionalism. Perhaps they’d been caught before they could pick up bad habits.
“Ideally we want to pull them down the hill,” she mused. “That would mean the slope would backstop any stray shots. We probably can’t get them all down there but even if we were down to just four of them then your ‘Mechs could manhandle them out of the way.”
“Then we need some sort of bait?” the leftenant asked.
“Yeah, something that looks really pathetic but at the same time appealing. A really juicy target for a bunch of terrorist stay-behinds.”
Behind the cover she saw Sammy and Jack exchange looks. “Captain, that sounds like you have a really terrible idea,” the man asserted.
“What does?” she asked innocently.
“That tone of voice,” Sammy told her.
Danny fiddled with his shooting glasses. “Maybe if an APC went out with an officer on it. We could get a bullhorn – I mean, it the APC would have to be pretty quick getting away but if something runs it’s instinctive to chase and…”
“Danny, shut up.”
“Now Sammy, that’s unreasonable,” Alexandra told him pleasantly. “I think it’s a very good idea and I know just the officer who’d be irresistibly tempting to a bunch of terrorists.
Jack smacked the flat of his hand against the younger jump trooper’s helmet. “Now see what you’ve done.”
“Leftenant Martin, we’re going to try pulling some of the ‘Mechs down and into a fire trap for Leftenant Aylesbury’s platoon. As soon as Aylesbury opens fire, your lance is to get up close and force them away from the school. Make sure they don’t fire up into the air – lord only knows where the ordnance would come down. Can you do that?”
The younger man sounded nervous. “Probably? I can’t guarantee…”
“Okay. I’ll take probably for this. First rule of battle is that things go wrong, but sometimes you need to take a chance.”
Alexandra jumped down from the roof, firing a short burst from her jet pack to manage her descent. Hitting the ground with the familiar shock that her knees did not enjoy, she crossed to where her APCs were parked along with her fire support, in the form of Aylesbury’s platoon.
“Brubaker!” she called, smacking the hatch of her command APC with her comm-gauntlet. “Find me a bullhorn. Leftenant Aylesbury! Got a job for you.”
“What do you want us to do, Captain?”
“We’re going to draw some of those ‘Mechs down away from the school. When they’re low enough for the slope to backstop your shooting, I want you to pop out and hammer then. How does that sound?”
“How many ‘Mechs are you talking about?”
“Depends how tempting I can make myself a target.”
“So all of them?”
“It’s adorable how highly you think of me, Leftenant. I’d settle for two but three seems like a better bet.”
“Three of those?” Aylesbury considered the direction of the school, as if he could see the industrial ‘Mechs through the building. “We should be able to drop them fairly fast, but it means getting them lined up.”
“Yeah, this could be messy,” she admitted. “But I really don’t want to give them time to get creative up there.”
He nodded. “You’re the boss.”
“Right, get to it.”
When she got to the APC, Brubaker was leaning on the side, holding out a bullhorn for her. “What’s the plan, captain?”
“We’re going to go out there and I’m going to demand their surrender.”
“Just our whole company?” he asked dubiously.
“No no, just you and me.”
“Ma’am, have you been taking any special medicine?”
“Uh… no?”
“Perhaps something could be prescribed? Because this sounds like the sort of plan that gets you shot by Rimjobs and me shot by a firing squad.”
“Don’t be ridiculous. No court martial in the AFFS would condemn you for letting an officer go into harm’s way,” she told the corporal. “Now mount up and drive out there so I can tell them off.”
With a groan he climbed into the driving compartment of the APC and Alexandra opened up the cupola, standing up in it with the bullhorn in her hands. The engine spun up and shortly the four-wheeled APC was in motion, moving up to end of the street facing the school.
“Turn right at the end,” Alexandra ordered. “If they start after us, head along the street and go for the intersection at the end.”
“It’d be faster to go for cover.”
“Brubaker!”
“Yes, ma’am.”
Satisfied, she raised the bullhorn. It was obvious that that the ‘Mech’s drivers had spotted her. Two were swinging weapons around to bear. “This is Captain Davion of the AFFS,” she declared, words booming out up towards the school and the terrorists threatening it. “Power down your ‘Mechs and surrender. I repeat, this is Captain Alexandra Davion. Surrender immediately or face the consequences.”
Whatever the Mechwarriors had been expecting, this clearly wasn’t it. Even their improvised ‘Mechs were individually more than a match for one APC – and there were six of them. One of them had a loudspeaker of their own. “How about you park that heap and you surrender?” he suggested.
“Don’t be ridiculous. I am the First Prince’s cousin,” she declared with the maximum ‘noble hauteur’ she could muster in her voice. “I suggest that you cease resistance lest you face severe consequences.”
While she couldn’t actually hear them discuss that – they did have decent security on their comms – she could pretty much imagine what they were thinking. Threatening school children would make a media splash but it was also something that would never be forgiven. A royal hostage though, someone even senior officers the SLDF might not be willing to risk…
The Rim Worlders came from the far side of the Inner Sphere. They might just possibly be aware that military service was all but obligatory within House Davion, but it was unlikely they knew that special privilege for members of the family was expressly prohibited under AFFS regulations.
One ‘Mech started down the slope.
Alexandra hammered her fist on the hatch. “Brubaker, hit it!” She kept her eyes on the ‘Mechs at the top. Come on, come on, one more…
The fact she was now in flight seemed to spur them into action and another pair of industrial Mechs – both modified construction ‘Mechs - started scrambling down the hill, cutting at an angle to intercept her. They were slow, lumbering beasts though. An APC could work up a very respectable speed on roads, especially in a straight line. Only because Brubaker was still picking up speed would they have a chance and…
The world seemed to explode around her. Alexandra dropped inside the hatch, instinctively covering her head as Aylesbury’s platoon opened fire.
While the four ‘Mechs of Martin’s lance added great mobility and flexibility to her company, the firepower came from a platoon of heavy tanks. At point-blank range within the streets, it was hard to imagine anything more deadly than the 18.5cm autocannon and each of the Alacorn Mk IV tanks had three of them in the turret.
Each of the tanks had focused on one of the ‘Mechs with the first down the hill unfortunate enough to receive the attention of two of the Alacorns. BattleMechs of the same size, covered in military-grade armour and multiply redundant control systems would have been crippled by the hits they took and at the point-blank ranges of street-fighting, only two of the twelve shots fired had missed.
The three ‘Mechs fell almost as one and jump packs roared to life as one of Alexandra’s platoons moved in to check the cockpits.
Having assured herself that despite the relatively close passage of the shells from one tank that she was in fact alive, Alexandra looked out again, this time up the hill.
One of the Industrial Mechs had crashed down the slope face first, a Phoenix Hawk sat on its back. Only on a second glance showed her that the BattleMech’s foot had become jammed into the back protection of the lumber ‘Mech. The Mechwarrior had apparently attempted a flying kick and succeeded in an inconvenient fashion.
A second industrial ‘Mech descended the slope in even less control – two of the Phoenix Hawks had seized it, one on each arm, and more or less thrown it away from the school. Weapon packs and other poorly secured components broke away as the ‘Mech rolled down onto the road at the bottom. Given the distorted shape of the cockpit, Alexandra doubted that the man or woman inside would be predisposed to fight – although if they were, the Alacorns were moving up and would take care of the matter.
There was a rush of missiles and Alexandra snapped her head around to look up the slope. The last of the terrorists was being wrestled away by Leftenant Martin’s Phoenix Hawk, but it still faced the school and the pilot had apparently concluded he had nothing to lose. SRMs spat out from the pack on his shoulder and detonated against the cockpit of the medium ‘Mech only metres away.
The Phoenix Hawk seemed to crouch and then its jump jets roared to life, the blast of their fire scorching the grass. With the ‘Mech still gripping the industrial ‘Mech they couldn’t achieve lift-off, but that wasn’t the goal. Instead the pair of ‘Mechs rocketed down the slope, the Phoenix Hawk spinning up and over the digger ‘Mech as it slowly lost its grip.
When the two crashed down, the elbow of the Phoenix Hawk’s left arm was speared through the terrorist cockpit, but Martin’s own cockpit had clearly also been blown open by the missiles.
“Get a medic to Leftenant Martin!” Alexandra shouted. And then, hating herself for the ruthless practicality of the thought, “And cut me a BattleROM of that.” Footage of an AFFS Mechwarrior taking hits to protect a school from a terror cell’s weapons would undercut the remaining pro-Amaris sentiment on Small World with rare effect she thought.
-
I take it that this "Cynthia DeKirk" is Aaron de Chavillier´s wife?
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And the kids.
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Would I be wrong to guess that as the FedSuns this working on creating other weights of BA, the previous post that had them working on duplicating SL tech also has them expanding upon it? Wonder how General Kerensky would react to FS 'Mechs carrying Ultra/20's showing up before Terra falls.
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Would I be wrong to guess that as the FedSuns this working on creating other weights of BA, the previous post that had them working on duplicating SL tech also has them expanding upon it? Wonder how General Kerensky would react to FS 'Mechs carrying Ultra/20's showing up before Terra falls.
Pity it was before they were invented or you could have (dead) Davion suggesting the RAC/5 instead. Unless the theoretical concept was proposed and he heard of it?
So you'd have the following battlefield exchange:
Amaris forces (using regular AC): Boom, boom, boom
Kerensky forces (UAC): boom-boom-boom-boom
FedSuns (RAC): B-b-b-b-b-b-b-b (a slower brrrrrrrt (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NvIJvPj_pjE)) -clunk (it jams)
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Nope, too late, first prototype is 3060. However the first prototype coolant pod is produced in '49, so he should know about that, and XXL engines are a possibility (First Prototype is '55). I'm also surprised that they/drakensis used an ICE powerplant in the Culervin over a FCE.
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Developing a FCE engine for the Culverin would have drawn out the design phase. It was more important to get it into production as fast as possible.
SLS McKenna’s Pride, Chara III
Alliance Core, Terran Hegemony
24 November 2770
While one of the richest agricultural worlds of the Terran Hegemony, Chara III – known to the locals as Pacifica – wasn’t somewhere Kerensky would have wanted to set down roots. A complete day was only fourteen standard hours and that swift rotation could send rainstorms sweeping across the entire planet.
Between that and the high water table, it was almost impossible to build the sort of massive fortifications that made some worlds such tough nuts to crack. Not anticipating such a rapid offense, the Rim Worlds commander had been caught off-guard and the SLDF had liberated the planet in less than a week.
Of course, then there had been three attempts to take it back. Despite the almost complete lack of strategic value Chara had in and of itself, it was within one jump of Terra. More than a hundred Rim Worlds warships and at least two divisions of troops had been thrown away in what even Amaris should have seen as a hopeless cause. Even if the two divisions’ transports had come close enough to the planet to drop, they’d have been outnumbered three to one by the Corps already on the surface.
“You’re sure?” Kerensky asked quietly.
Drummond nodded. “There are multiple sources of independent verification. Amaris has declared he’s ceding nine worlds to Combine governorship and protection. I can’t tell you what the Coordinator is going to do about it, but the orders to withdraw are definitely going out.”
“Which worlds?”
“Basically the entire Lone Star pocket – everything from Sabik to Deneb Algedi.” The Rim Worlds native scratched his beard. “I don’t think he’d give them to the Combine sincerely. It’s more likely that they’ll do the same thing to those worlds he’s done to worlds where he’s losing.”
“Like a spoiled child smashing a toy he’s been told to give up.” Kerensky ran his hand across his scalp. “And we cannot assume that Kurita will not accept such a claim.”
“Fourteenth Army is still monitoring DCMS movements.”
“Yes, but I have little reserve.” The Commanding General leant back in his seat and thought. “I can no longer afford to leave what remains of the Fourteenth in the Combine,” he concluded out loud. “Recruitment and supply there is dwindling and I need those soldiers.”
Drummond folded his papers. “Sir?”
“Yes, you are dismissed.” Kerensky rose to his feet. “Good work, Major. I appreciate your bringing this to me so rapidly.”
“I hope it helps, sir.”
Barely waiting for the door to close behind the Rim Worlds defector, Kerensky signalled the surface command post.
“Sir?” General Armand Surban had done well for himself so far, both in leading what had once been among the smallest of the SLDF’s armies and in welding it together with the remains of the Seventeenth without losing that edge.
“Prepare your troops to withdraw,” Kerensky ordered. “We’ll be stretched to cover your area but I need this to happen fast.”
“Just XXXI Corps or the entire army?” Surban asked bluntly.
Kerensky nodded. “Your full command, I’m placing you under General Baptiste although she won’t have the message yet.”
“Fourth Army, sir?”
“No, she’s getting her own Army Group.” Of all the available army commanders, he thought she had the right mix of diplomacy and drive to manage this. Unfortunate that her army wasn’t in position to participate in this operation, but she had good Corps commanders who could step up. “Army Group Fourteen will be moving into the Lone Star pocket. Plan on concentrating your troops over Imbros III but you won’t be able to land them to reorganise so load assuming that you’ll be combat dropping when they disembark.”
“Understood sir.” The general saluted.
Kerensky checked the available units. Aaron wouldn’t thank him for it but Sixth and Seventh Armies were the best placed from his area. That would force him to slow the push towards Terra Firma but this took priority and splitting the operation between multiple commanders would just cause confusion.
“Eighteen divisions from Fourteenth, twenty-four from Thirteenth, and thirty between Sixth and Seventh.” Two of them AFFS, he noted. John Davion would understand, but they’d just rotated fresh regiments in. Probably for the best if they hadn’t fully deployed yet. The general touched his comms panel again. “Please send Major Rand-Davion to my office.”
It only took a few minutes for the door to chime. “Enter.”
The man who entered seemed entirely too young for a Major’s rank pins – stripes rather, for he wore an AFFS working uniform. “How may I assist you, General?” Mark Rand-Davion asked pleasantly. Then again, many SLDF Majors were just as young, sometimes younger.
“I need to redeploy Sixth Army in something of a hurry. Will that be a problem with the regiments recently assigned to them?”
“The new brigade?” Rand-Davion considered. “Well they’ll not have put roots down yet, so I don’t see a problem there…”
“Major, I must speak frankly. You’re aware of the complaints I have received about AFFS Mechwarriors. I have copied them to you. Now I ask much of them, will they perform or will they misbehave?”
The young man made a face. “The Eleventh Loyalists are a solid unit. I’ve never worked with them but they’ve been trained intensively over the last couple of years to drum the… issues out. The Fifth Dragoons are new, but don’t worry about them.”
“No?”
“No. Their cadre came out of the First Dragoons and Uncle John gave Colonel Sandoval carte blanche on who to take with her.” The young Mechwarrior face was serious. “There will be no… no silly shit from them. She was on Valexa, twice, and she’s one of the best we have.”
“And that would leave the First Avalon Hussars under Colonel Perez.”
Rand-Davion hesitated.
“You know him?”
“I was with the Avalon Hussars. Word gets around. Colonel Perez has been… informally advised that he’s on his last chance. He’s a fine Mechwarrior and commander of Mechwarriors but his co-operation with other arms has been… unacceptable. I cannot promise there will not be a problem. I can promise you that his executive officer and the brigade commander have been given express orders to ensure that any problem is cut short.”
“That seems highly detrimental to good order and morale.”
“It’s not great. But it’s really on him – he’s not keeping his position through patronage. He’s brilliant… just…”
“I could carpet a planet with brilliant officers who have been unfit for other reasons.” Kerensky considered and then shook his head. “You have a direct channel to the First Prince. Please inform him that Colonel Perez must be recalled immediately. I will endorse whatever face-saving excuse is offered, even offer a suitably prestigious liaison posting if that is the best way to remove him. Your cousin will understand that I would not ask this of him unless it was of the utmost importance.”
The young Rand-Davion gave him a grave look. “I’ll pass that on, sir.”
“You think I ask too much?”
“I think you’re aware of where the lines of authority are, general.”
Kerensky nodded. “Yes, and I have crossed one. Thus I must ask you to pass it on discreetly. It is… it is too important in this instance. Perhaps I am wronging the man, but better that than thousands, perhaps many thousands, placed at risk.”
.o0O0o.
Avalon City Spaceport, New Avalon
Crucis March, Federated Suns
23 January 2771
“I still think we should have called them something more martial.”
John shrugged. “Think of it as another layer of the security. When we put on contracts for parts for a Song-class or a Grove-class, the first thought of any spies probably wasn’t ‘military transports’.”
“That and the size of them.”
The dropships lined up on the spaceport pads were making their formal debut for the biannual air show. While most of the crowds were focused upon smaller aircraft with their low passes, intricately planned demonstrations, or the sheer guts of pilots taking off in micro-lights that mostly weighed less than they did, the dropships got a fair few visitors too.
Certainly no military visitor would miss the chance to take a look and despite the tensions there were men and women in the uniforms of six different nations among the observers. Quite a number had cameras. That was fine with John and with Hanse. The time for security on this project had passed.
Admiral Goto lowered his binoculars and scanned the crowd. “I do believe that the Draconis Combine Admiralty’s representatives are eating their hearts out,” he said with some degree of smugness. “The name’s about the only thing their new Fang-class can claim over ours.”
Tomori Trans Industrial’s team seemed similarly discomfited, John thought.
“The Fang’s not a bad ship for what they’re doing,” Hanse conceded with a tight smile. “Twenty five ‘Mechs and a hundred and twenty-five troops is a pretty good raiding party and five of them will haul a couple of regiments easily enough for large deployments.”
“Well they had to work with the constraints of the existing design. Minister Reznick’s sources confirm that the Fang’s basically a scaled up Lion-class transport while we got to start with a fresh sheet.”
The Combine’s discomfort rested with the fact that the four dropships from Federated Suns yards dwarfed their Fang. The Fang was around the same size as the Overlord-class that was beginning to replace older BattleMech transports around the Inner Sphere.
Shipil’s design had been declined by the SLDF in favour of massive Lee-class, leaving the Lyran shipbuilders with development costs to pay off. If it wasn’t for the natural disruptions of Robert Steiner taking over from his father, the Lyrans might have retained sole access to the dropships but Shipil had decided to off-set their costs by licensing the design generously and the other House Lords had snapped them up quickly.
After the losses over Tortuga, John had commissioned the construction of a new class of combat transport, something closer to the massive Colossus and Lee that the SLDF was shifting towards. Several variants of a class, in fact. Other than the placement of their hatches, the four ships looked very similar from the outside and more than half their structures were identical on the inside as well. At fifteen-thousand tons each they weren’t cheap, but the extra armour and weapons would make it far less likely that loss of a full ‘Mech battalion of the First Avalon Hussars would be repeated.
“It’s a shame they can’t keep up with our new carriers and destroyers,” Goto said, looking back at the dropships. “But that might be for the best. Less chance of another Tortuga – keep them back with the Robinsons in a second wave.”
John nodded. “Yes, however good the defences are there’s no advantage to exposing them to fire from warships. The Songs don’t add enough fighters per hull for it to be worthwhile.”
Fully completed, unlike those sent to Al Na’ir, the Song-variants carried a twenty-strong wing of aerospace fighters as well as a vehicle deck that could hold either the auxiliary vehicles needed if the wing was deployed to a ground base or a light tank battalion. The FSN had argued in favour of adding bays for a fourth fighter squadron only to be undercut by their own flight engineers, who had strong feelings about trying to run field air-bases with commandeered equipment.
The Storm variants had an identical vehicle deck, suited for either light tanks or the armoured personnel carriers that the infantry battalion housed above them could need. There was even room for six shuttles, suiting the ship for carrying marines to orbital stations. The same bay on the Grove variant had space for an escorting fighter squadron but the bulk of the ship’s storage was to contain forty heavy tanks. And finally the Tower-class made room inside its hull – barely – for a BattleMech battalion.
“Not my decision anymore.” The admiral had put on a couple of kilos since his retirement. “I’m quite happy living off my pension cheques and the consultancy fees from Boeing.”
“Speaking of Boeing.”
“What, do you want me to spy on them?”
“Their head offices on Terra are under Amaris’ control,” the First Prince pointed out. “I’m not blaming them for that – there’s no indication I’m aware of that they were actively colluding with him – unlike a few other companies.”
“Some of them banks that are quite mad at you.”
“Word of that’s got out, has it?”
“It’s too good a story not to gossip about,” the retired admiral told him. “There were thousands of companies who’d borrowed money from those Terran sharks and you’re their champion for getting them out from those loans.”
“I’d think they’d be wary of doing business someone who reneged on loans.”
“Nonsense. Anyone who’s ever had a mortgage on their house has felt the urge to kick over the traces and tell the bank to take a long step off a short dock. There’s a natural admiration for someone who can do that and make it stick.”
“It was a unique situation.”
“Probably best that way but I wish I’d financed my house through one of those banks. Oh well, lost opportunities.” Goto looked back out over the crowds. “You think Boeing might be used to funnel information back to Amaris?”
“I’m sure he’d like to use them that way – a lot of SLDF ships go through the new yards and Galax is only a jump from New Avalon. Whether or not he actually is, I’ve no idea. I’m not asking you to actively look for anything, but if you do see anything suspicious, I’d be grateful if you’d share the information with Francesca Reznick’s people.”
“That I can do. I’m a little old for anything more active.”
.o0O0o.
SLS McKenna’s Pride, Asta
Alliance Core, Terran Hegemony
2 March 2771
Kerensky had moved his headquarters, partly to shorten communications with Baptiste and DeChevilier and partly in response to concerns that by staying on Chara so long he might be making himself and his staff too easy for the Republicans to target.
Asta was just as much on the frontlines, but alas not the springboard for further advances at this time. It was a lovely planet, a largely rural world. How long the globe beneath would remain green and blue was open to doubt though – the last Rim resistance had unearthed bio-weapons from somewhere. Not to target the population, but the ecology.
Without access to the central records, Kerensky feared that the personnel trying to determine counter-agents would take too long – vast forests that provided wood of unparalleled quality were beginning to rot and fishing vessels had reported waters covered with dead and rotting fish, stocks that had taken centuries to build up now liquidated in months. But they had to try.
“General Davion was correct that we must push the pace to liberate the Hegemony,” he said gravely, looking down upon the world below. “Increasingly this is what we will find. And yet we have no choice but to pause briefly and allow our forces to recover.”
“The men are eager, sir.” General Watanabe’s Eighth Army had sat out the Periphery Uprising entirely and been left in place to watch over the Free Worlds League until now.
“The men, yes. But our supplies have been drawn down and many units are well below effective strength. Your soldiers will help us hold the worlds we’ve freed so far, and take the lead as we resume the attack, but it will be months before we’re ready.”
“And then… Terra?”
“There is no order I would rather give, but no. We need not liberate all of the Hegemony before we move on Amaris directly but that operation will demand a vast force, firstly to deal with the system’s defences and then Terra itself.”
“Didn’t PERSUASIVE FORCE suggest that only three armies and fleets could be enough?”
Kerensky shook his head. “Actual experience has shown that the premise of those exercises were optimistic for the attacker. Amaris’ fleet – even with recent losses – is half again as large as the defenders were in that scenario. Worse, the behaviour of his troops when faced with defeat means we must be far more aggressive on the ground, throwing troops rapidly against strongholds and even into cities to secure them before Amaris’ fanatics can ravage the worlds. Lockdale has shown us the consequence of being too cautious in our advance. But such tactics cost our soldiers dearly in terms of casualties.”
“I had heard that some Corps have been reduced well below their pre-war strength,” Watanabe said cautiously.
“Entire armies. The original Nineteenth Army only exists because much of Fifth Army was transferred there. Of the twenty-one divisions they could boast eight years ago, six remain intact. The others were cannibalised of personnel and equipment to keep those six divisions and twelve more from Fifth Army operational.” Kerensky turned away from the window. “That consolidation is what other officers should have been doing, but too many have clung to the belief that men and machines will arrive as if it were peacetime, keeping units intact well past the point they can act with some semblance of their paper strength.”
“Tradition is a powerful force.”
“We no longer have endless coffers, nor are young men and women streaming into our ranks from academies and schools across the Inner Sphere. You yourself have seen how Marik has eaten away at such sources within the Free Worlds League.” The Commanding General exhaled slowly. “We must consolidate, however much I wish to press on. Your army and what remains of our forces in the Capellan Confederation will replenish our ranks to an extent, but any Corps unable to field at least five combat ready divisions is to be disbanded and its forces will be reassigned.” He paused. “I exclude your own III Corps as it is otherwise at full strength.”
“Thank you, sir.” III Corps had detached two divisions to reinforce the Periphery actions before the full scale of the crisis there had been established. After almost a decade, the Corps had grown accustomed to working with a larger number of independent regiments in lieu of the divisions.
“I am not doing you a favour, General Watanabe. For the last several years your army has effectively been a training command, in which you have done well. Now I must throw them into the inferno and you must be prepared. Of the fifteen armies still in service, yours is second only to the Eleventh in size and they are tied down guarding our supply lines across the Commonwealth. Your target is among the hardest we will face short of Terra itself.”
It didn’t take Watanabe long to spread out a mental map of the Hegemony. “Tyrfing,” he guessed.
“Correct. Not only the capital of a province, but also breaching the line of fortified worlds between our spearhead and Terra Firma province. If we are to complete the encircling of the Alliance Core, not to mention relieve at last the fortresses holding out on Carver V, then Tyrfing is vital as a base of operations.”
“Then we’ll take it back, sir.”
”Study Lockdale, general. Consider the fighting there and the damage to the world as the best-case scenario for what you will face. And steel yourself for heavy casualties.”
-
Nueva Asuncion, Deneb Algedi
Lone Star Province, Terran Hegemony
16 April 2771
“So walk me through what happened?”
“My crew and I went out for a quiet drink,” Captain Marge Pritchard began.
She was going to have a spectacular black eye tomorrow, Ethan thought. “Mmm,” he said, looking at the location the four of them had chosen for this quiet drink. By the mysterious alchemy that always took place, bars and other entertainment venues had sprung up around the 225th Division’s base, just as they no doubt had for the rest of the SLDF. Equally predictably a rough pecking order had emerged amongst these entertainments and Baroni’s wasn’t a place the young Major would have gone for a quiet drink.
“We did!” the captain protested with an air of offended innocence. “Anyway, we came across some of our fine comrades from the Sixtieth Jump Division…”
“They’re part of the 225th now, M- Captain.”
“Tell them that. Anyway, the fellow who looks like his mother was a Banshee made a comment about a Davion tank crew. So we asked where and they pointed at us.”
Ethan sighed. It wasn’t difficult to identify the lieutenant in question. Nor was it fair – Geordie Scott’s face did bear an unfortunate resemblance to the skull-like visage of ‘Mech in question but he hadn’t been born like that. Proper reconstructive surgery would have put him out of the fighting for at least six months and so, like many of his comrades from Hegemony worlds, he’d opted for just enough of a patch-job to be sent back to his unit.
In Scott’s case to a unit that had been disbanded almost as soon as he returned, the remaining elements of his division broken up to rebuild other units, such as the 225th BattleMech Division which had received over eighty Mechwarriors and two-thirds of an infantry brigade from the Sixtieth.
“I believe I can reconstruct the chain of events from there,” he said in a resigned tone. “Do you wish to take this further formally?”
Ranson shook his head vigorously and Steuben, perched on one of the few remaining bar stools, raised an eyebrow at the question. Huber Koopman would not be contributing to the conversation as he was one of the participants in the little incident being taken back to the base hospital.
“I don’t think that that’s strictly necessary, Major.” Pritchard didn’t stumble over his rank but Ethan was sure she was mentally substituting his name – it was bloody awkward he’d been promoted past his former mentor. And the fact that two-thirds of his battalion was made up of Mechwarriors from the Sixtieth didn’t help.
He shook his head. “Right. Half the bill for damages will be your crew’s responsibility. If you can’t cover it then the division will cover it and it’ll come out of your wages. Except when your duties require it, you’re confined to base for the next month.” By which time, hopefully, they’d be shipping out.
“Understood, sir.” She paused. “You know, this wouldn’t have happened if we had a Demon assigned to us.”
“I believe they run to a bit over two million dollars per unit,” Ethan shot back. “If we garnished your entire wages from now until we get to Terra, that still wouldn’t cover buying a new one – assuming the factory survives liberation.”
“One would hope that Terra will be liberated before 2850,” Steuben murmured, having apparently done the math.
“At least your tank was factory fresh.” Ethan’s replacement for his Orion was a Marauder that had once been at three distinct ‘Mechs destroyed in previous fighting. They hadn’t even all been the same model, the left arm and leg were from a MAD-1R while the torso and right leg came from two different MAD-2Rs. The smell of the last occupant of the cockpit had to be in his imagination though – that had been a complete rebuild with factory parts according to the documentation that had accompanied the ‘Mech from the salvage yards back on the edge of the Federated Suns.
“The good old days, eh?” Pritchard said philosophically. “When a scratch on the paintwork was enough to order a brand new tank all the way from Terra.”
“I assume that you’re exaggerating, although I wasn’t with the SLDF back then.”
“Just a little,” the tank commander admitted.
Ethan shook his head and then made a pushing gesture towards the door. “Okay, get moving before I have to ask the MPs for leg-irons.”
The three tankers obediently walked out and crammed themselves into the back of the jeep Ethan had driven out from the cantonment.
“Damned Muscovites, always sticking together.” The comment from one of the other brawlers, who were riding back to base in a MP van was just a bit too loud for Ethan to ignore.
Leaving the other three behind, he walked over. “Sergeant, what’s the unit patch on your uniform?”
There was a mumble.
“Yeah, Battle of Moscow division. The same as every other non-civilian here. If it wasn’t for the chip in your shoulder, I could load those three in the van with the rest of you and not have to drop more of you off at the hospital before we’re done.”
“Sir.”
“Now, have you changed your mind about bringing in formal charges rather than summary justice?”
“No sir.”
“Then take some comfort,” Ethan said sharply. “That they’re splitting their half of the damages four ways and not seven. Save the aggression for the Rimjobs.”
We could actually do with some of them, he thought to himself. A battle would be bloody but it’d give the troops someone other than each other to take their frustrations out on. And if we can get them fighting as a unit then maybe the division will act like one the rest of the time.
.o0O0o.
Avalon City, New Avalon
Crucis March, Federated Suns
4 May 2771
Felix Maltin gave John a stony look as he took his seat at the conference table. The Taurian ambassador’s expression might have been slightly warmer as he looked towards David Avellar – but perhaps not. The son of Allyce Avellar was barely out of his teens and John was pleased to see that he was able to keep his emotions more in check than his mother or – in the other direction – than the Taurian at the table.
“Thank you for visiting, gentlemen.” John rested his hands on the table top and refrained from mentioning it had taken three years to persuade the other two governments to re-establish diplomatic contact beyond the most basic levels.
“The Protector feels that the relief supplies your people provided ours at least merited turning you down face to face when you invite us back to the Star League,” Maltin replied bluntly.
Avellar cleared his throat. “I don’t believe that’s on the agenda that the First Prince provided, Ambassador.”
“Quite. Diplomacy is the art of the possible, after all.” John smiled drily. “As it happens I’m not empowered to make such an offer anyway, so we don’t need to waste time on the question.”
“Not that an invitation’s necessary – as far as the Star League is concerned their worlds are still part of the League,” Hanse added from behind Avellar where he was studying the young man’s noteputer. Not that it was likely the Alliance’s representative had brought any sensitive data but it might yield some insight into his thinking.
John considered and then leant back slightly. “Off the record, I can’t see the rest of Star League Council yielding the League’s claims to rule over your realms, but the SLDF is in no position to enforce that and won’t be for at least ten to twenty years. Quite possibly until the next century. I personally wouldn’t vote for invading you again…”
“Generous, considering you had troops on both of our realms.”
“I don’t deny that, nor do I deny that I profited by the taxes placed on your realms in ’53. But I try to learn from my mistakes.”
“Setting aside what we’re not here to discuss, perhaps we could begin the actual agenda,” suggested Avellar. “Most of which is economic in nature.”
Maltin nodded grudgingly. “Despite… yes, I admit, considerable help from the people of the Federated Suns, our infrastructure has been severely damaged by Kerensky’s soldiers.”
“The same is true on the worlds of the Outworlds Alliance,” Avellar admitted. “One suspects that we won’t be receiving many bids from Hegemony firms to rebuild, they have concerns closer to home.”
“Respectfully, gentlemen, your realms lack the tools to rebuild the infrastructure that’s been damaged. That means you need external trade to get out of the hole you’re in economically.”
“We lack the tools because of the Star League’s exploitation.”
“That’s true and I understand that the last thing you’d ever want to do, Ambassador Maltin, is to open your people up to that again. On the other hand, my own realm has its own economic problems. Mobilising capacity to supply the SLDF has at least let me put people back to work and build up our manufacturing base, but at the end of the day we had our own dependencies on the Hegemony when it came to manufacturing.”
“And I suppose you have a solution?”
“Maybe. Not a miracle, but something that might be a step in the right direction.” John tapped a control and brought up a display of both his guests’ home states and the broad expanse of the Federated Suns that lay between them. “What I’m suggesting is that we combine our efforts. There are things we all need if we’re to avoid economic collapse. If we’re all individually building up those industries then there’ll be a lot of redundancy. In the long run that means self-sufficiency but right now none of us can afford that. But if – just for example - the Concordat is willing to sell some of the fusion reactors they build to the Outworlds and to the Suns, that means the Outworlds can afford to neglect that for now and focus on water filters which they can sell to Concordat and the Suns.”
Maltin rubbed his chin. “And similarly we become a captive market for you in other areas. Because you won’t be dependent on us. Neither of us could supply enough goods for you to depend on.”
“That’s true. And eventually you’ll both want to develop your own capacities. But the trade would still help us, particularly in the less well developed worlds that border your realms. And trade between you would far easier for you if you can use trade routes through the Suns.”
“And profitable for you, again in your outlying worlds that would be on that route.” Avellar drummed his fingers on the table. “I don’t speak for Taurus but we can’t risk opening up our economy to the Suns or we’d be swamped.”
“I understand, but more limited trade, under your control, can get your economies started again. Once you don’t need the trade, you can scale back and even cut off those ties again.” John turned to Maltin. “There need to be controls – you must have seen that with the way losing the BSLA regulations left the Concordat’s worlds open to wider exploitation. But those controls need to be in your hands.”
“I’m unsure if our Executive Parliament would wish to impose such a degree of government control,” said Avellar thoughtfully. “We don’t have the centralised authority which your realms historically wield.”
“And you see how well that has gone for you?” Maltin shook his head. “If you don’t begin to rein on some of your dissidents, then independence from the League will lead to your disintegration.”
“I understand your point, Ambassador.”
The two periphery officials exchanged wary looks. “I trust you won’t take offense, Lord Avellar, if I point out that some of the issues are vested in your family.”
David Avellar’s eyes tightened and as the looks became glares, it wasn’t the younger of the two who looked away first.
“This one has steel in him. Not like his mother.” Hanse moved around and studied Avellar’s face. “He could be a valuable ally.”
“How you govern your people is your choice,” John pointed out in an indirect reminder to the Taurian. “There would be a lot of details to establish.”
Maltin folded his arms. “Including where we might be able to get the capital for the investments required for this. You can’t afford to loan us that sort of money, not with your own economy struggling and all your spare reserves supporting the SLDF. For that matter, you’re still on the Star League dollar and neither of us is.”
“Something that’s done its own damage,” Avellar admitted reluctantly.
“Our banks are prepared to recognise your currencies.” John looked at the youngest man at the table. “And we can mint coins and bank notes relatively easily if you’re willing to let us do that for you. Getting physical cash out into the hands of your citizens has been one of the problems you’ve been struggling with according to my financial advisors. If your people can go to banks and exchange their dollars for escudos then it should invest a little more confidence in their value.”
“And then we use those dollars to buy from you.”
“Until you have your own exports available – at that point we’ll need escudos to buy from you.” John snorted. “A lot of my economists have been digging out historical texts to study how to cope with multiple currencies.”
Maltin shook his head. “If he makes your money then he owns your money,” he warned.
“I’d be happy for the minting to be done somewhere like Tancredi IV, where Alliance military observers can ensure that the minting equipment is disposed of or even handed over once the agreed upon quantity has been produced. Details can be discussed.” John spread his hands. “I realise the Concordat doesn’t have the same problem but unlike the Alliance you still have some functioning military factories.”
“We need those to rebuild our Defense Force!” the ambassador protested.
“Ambassador, you can’t afford their output with the way your budget is stretched. And I have a great deal of influence over where the SLDF is spending its budget at the moment. General Kerensky is willing to look the other way about buying from your factories in order to get the supplies he needs – and that gives you an influx of capital you can spend on what you need to get your economy back on its feet.”
“Selling him the weapons he needs to subjugate us again.”
“Selling him the weapons he needs to defeat Amaris, just as Amaris sold you the weapons you used to draw the SLDF away from Terra.” John stared the Taurian in the eye. “There are still people crossing the border to enlist in the SLDF for the chance to take revenge on the Usurper. Nicoletta Calderon can sell this to your people as a short-term measure.”
Maltin frowned. “Perhaps…” he said grudgingly. “I suppose we have few choices but to do business with you.”
-
Pity it was before they were invented or you could have (dead) Davion suggesting the RAC/5 instead. Unless the theoretical concept was proposed and he heard of it?
So you'd have the following battlefield exchange:
Amaris forces (using regular AC): Boom, boom, boom
Kerensky forces (UAC): boom-boom-boom-boom
FedSuns (RAC): B-b-b-b-b-b-b-b (a slower brrrrrrrt (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NvIJvPj_pjE)) -clunk (it jams)
Followed by:
Amaris: Ah, foolish Feddies, relying on crappy technology.
FedSuns: *unjams RAC*
Amaris: You are helpless before me. Now I will kill you.
FedSuns: dakka-dakka-dakka-dakka
-
SLDF Organisation 2765-2773
As of the mid-28th Century the SLDF Regular Army was made up of twenty armies spread across the ten member states. The five geographically smaller states were each garrisoned by a single army while the five larger states were each assigned three armies. The exact strength of an army varied depending on their specific responsibilities - armies deployed to the relatively compact Capellan Confederation were less than half the size of those in the sprawling and obstreperous Draconis Combine.
Each army comprised a number of divisions, comprising nine line regiments as well as support elements equivalent to at least three additional regiments (sometimes more). These divisions were grouped into Corps with specific geographical responsibilities. Both the Corps and Army level commands also included a number of independent regiments not associated with any division - typically this was where the majority of SLDF armored forces were concentrated. The number of divisions in an army gives a reasonable idea of their relative size and fighting power.
First Army (Terran Hegemony) 23 Divisions
Second Army (Federated Suns) 23 Divisions
Third Army (Federated Suns) 25 Divisions
Fourth Army (Federated Suns) 24 Divisions
Fifth Army (Capellan Confederation) 19 Divisions
Sixth Army (Capellan Confederation) 15 Divisions
Seventh Army (Capellan Confederation) 15 Divisions
Eighth Army (Free Worlds League) 22 Divisions
Ninth Army (Free Worlds League) 17 Divisions
Tenth Army (Free Worlds League) 19 Divisions
Eleventh Army (Lyran Commonwealth) 24 Divisions
Twelfth Army (Lyran Commonwealth) 19 Divisions
Thirteenth Army (Lyran Commonwealth) 19 Divisions
Fourteenth Army (Draconis Combine) 24 Divisions
Fifteenth Army (Draconis Combine) 34 Divisions
Sixteenth Army (Draconis Combine) 34 Divisions
Seventeenth Army (Magistracy of Canopus) 21 Divisions
Eighteenth Army (Outworlds Alliance) 21 Divisions
Nineteenth Army (Taurian Concordat) 21 Divisions
Twentieth Army (Rim Worlds Republic) 22 Divisions
In 2755, Richard Cameron ordered the SLDF to withdraw entirely from the Rim Worlds Republic. Over the course of three years, Twentieth Army redeployed gradually out of their traditional posting and into bases in the Lyran Commonwealth. No plan had been made for where they should go and many expected they would return as soon as the First Lord came to his senses. This did not transpire and it was decided in 2760 that they would be sent to the expanding Outworlds Alliance. As of 2765 this deployment had yet to be completed with divisions and regiments scattered across the Lyran Commonwealth and Draconis Combine.
The Periphery Uprising forced massive redeployment. The Seventeenth, Eighteenth and Ninteenth Armies were overwhelmed by the fighting and each of the three battlefronts received the attention of entire Army Groups. In addition to carrying out the long delayed redeployment of the Twentieth Army, ten additional armies were moved out of member-states, leaving a single army responsible for each. As Pro-Periphery terrorism and inter-realm skirmishing was also on the rise, much of the First Army deployed out of the Terran Hegemony to support the other five Inner Sphere military regions.
All three army groups took heavy losses over two years of fighting, to which must be added the effective eradication of First Army's I Corps during the Amaris Coup.
Third Army (Army Group Eleven - Taurian Concordat) 15 Divisions
Fourth Army (Army Group Eleven - Taurian Concordat) 13 Divisions
Sixth Army (Army Group Eleven - Taurian Concordat) 7 Divisions
Seventh Army (Army Group Eleven - Taurian Concordat) 9 Divisions
Nineteenth Army (Army Group Eleven - Taurian Concordat) 11 Divisions
Ninth Army (Army Group Twelve - Magistracy of Canopus) 11 Divisions
Tenth Army (Army Group Twelve - Magistracy of Canopus) 11 Divisions
Twelfth Army (Army Group Twelve - Magistracy of Canopus) 12 Divisions
Thirteenth Army (Army Group Twelve - Magistracy of Canopus) 12 Divisions
Seventeenth Army (Army Group Twelve - Magistracy of Canopus) 9 Divisions
Fifteenth Army (Army Group Thirteen - Outworlds Alliance) 22 Divisions
Sixteenth Army (Army Group Thirteen - Outworlds Alliance) 20 Divisions
Eighteenth Army (Army Group Thirteen - Outworlds Alliance) 13 Divisions
Twentieth Army (Army Group Thirteen - Outworlds Alliance) 10 Divisions
First Army (Terran Hegemony) 15 Divisions
Second Army (Federated Suns) 23 Divisions
Fifth Army (Capellan Confederation) 19 Divisions
Eighth Army (Free Worlds League) 22 Divisions
Eleventh Army (Lyran Commonwealth) 24 Divisions
Fourteenth Army (Draconis Combine) 24 Divisions
Faced with the reality of the Amaris Coup, the SLDF further reorganised. In order to make good losses, the First and Twentieth Armies were disbanded and their troops reassigned to fill out more intact organisations. First Army units primarily joined Army Group Eleven while Twentieth Army troops were divided between the armies of the other two Army Groups. In order to control the borders of the Hegemony and protect SLDF infrastructure in the Inner Sphere, the other five garrison armies remained largely in place.
Army Group Eleven was assigned to return directly to the Terran Hegemony while Army Groups Twelve and Thirteen would carry out the conquest of the Rim Worlds Republic. Twelfth Army was transferred from Army Group Twelve to Army Group Thirteen due to their familiarity with the staging areas that would be used.
The Rim Worlds Republic was secured relatively rapidly but the logistical problems of sending the SLDF's forces there back to the Terran Hegemony would defer the opening of a second front until 2770. While the Federated Suns' resources aided greatly in this, they were primarily consumed by Army Group Eleven, which was already in action. Both Second and Fifth Armies had been reduced to half their previous size as personnel and equipment were transferred from them to replace battlefield losses.
When the time came for this operation, Army Group Twelve was functionally disbanded with Tenth Army merged into Ninth Army to garrison the Rim Worlds Republic while Thirteenth and Seventeenth Army joined Army Group Thirteen, which would carry out the actual invasion of the Terran Hegemony through the Lyran Commonwealth. Two Corps were also detached from Fourteenth Army to join Kerensky's operations and Seventeenth Army's survivors would be merged into the similarly depleted Thirteenth Army.
Third Army (Army Group Eleven - DeChevilier) 14 Divisions
Fourth Army (Army Group Eleven - DeChevilier) 13 Divisions
Sixth Army (Army Group Eleven - DeChevilier) 15 Divisions + 2 AFFS Divisions
Seventh Army (Army Group Eleven - DeChevilier) 13 Divisions
Nineteenth Army (Army Group Eleven - DeChevilier) 18 Divisions
Twelfth Army (Army Group Thirteen - Kerensky) 24 Divisions
Thirteenth Army (Army Group Thirteen - Kerensky) 24 Divisions
Fifteenth Army (Army Group Thirteen - Kerensky) 22 Divisions
Sixteenth Army (Army Group Thirteen - Kerensky) 20 Divisions + CCAF Auxiliaries
Eighteenth Army (Army Group Thirteen - Kerensky) 22 Divisions
Second Army (Federated Suns) 10 Divisions
Fifth Army (Capellan Confederation) 7 Divisions
Eighth Army (Free Worlds League) 22 Divisions
Ninth Army (Rim Worlds Republic) 22 Divisions
Eleventh Army (Lyran Commonwealth) 24 Divisions
Fourteenth Army (Draconis Combine) 18 Divisions
Further reorganisation became necessary following the sudden withdrawal of Amaris forces from the Combine border. In order to re-establish control of the region, General Baptiste was given command of the newly established Army Group Fourteen with whatever forces were nearest to her new area of operation.
At the same time, SLDF presence within the Free Worlds League, Capellan Confederation and Draconis Combine was finally abandoned since much of the SLDF's infrastructure in these states had been sold off and there was no longer a strategic value to the garrisons. Only the Federated Suns and Rim Worlds Republic were reliable sources of equipment and they, along with the supply lines across the Lyran Commonwealth, were soon the only SLDF presence outside of the Terran Hegemony.
Third Army (Army Group Eleven - DeChevilier) 17 Divisions
Fourth Army (Army Group Eleven - DeChevilier) 12 Divisions
Nineteenth Army (Army Group Eleven - DeChevilier) 18 Divisions
Eighth Army (Army Group Thirteen - Kerensky) 22 Divisions
Twelfth Army (Army Group Thirteen - Kerensky) 21 Divisions
Fifteenth Army (Army Group Thirteen - Kerensky) 18 Divisions
Sixteenth Army (Army Group Thirteen - Kerensky) 18 Divisions + CCAF Auxiliaries
Eighteenth Army (Army Group Thirteen - Kerensky) 21 Divisions
Sixth Army (Army Group Fourteen - Baptiste) 12 Divisions + 2 AFFS Divisions
Seventh Army (Army Group Fourteen - Baptiste) 12 Divisions
Thirteenth Army (Army Group Fourteen - Baptiste) 20 Divisions
Fourteenth Army (Army Group Fourteen - Baptiste) 18 Divisions
Second Army (Federated Suns) 10 Divisions
Ninth Army (Rim Worlds Republic) 22 Divisions
Eleventh Army (Lyran Commonwealth) 24 Divisions
The final reorganisation of the SLDF during the campaign took place in preparation for the liberation of Terra itself. This reorganisation provded drawn out but provided a total invasion force of 173 divisions divided between two Army Groups. The macabre reasoning was that if one command group was destroyed in the action that the other would be able to take on control of the entire invasion. A third, much smaller, Army Group would be responsible for garrisoning the liberated Hegemony and containing those worlds not yet freed from the control of Amaris' troops.
Soldiers, equipment and in particular officers - many of them rotated to rear areas to recover - were drawn from every possible reserve in order to provide for the supreme effort against Terra. Second Army was reduced to a shadow of itself with virtually no SLDF regulars, while both the Rim Worlds factories and the supply lines across the Commonwealth were only under the bare minimum protection that could be risked.
Third Army (Army Group Eleven - DeChevilier) 25 Divisions
Fourth Army (Army Group Eleven - DeChevilier) 20 Divisions
Sixth Army (Army Group Eleven - DeChevilier) 19 Divisions
Seventh Army (Army Group Eleven - DeChevilier) 22 Divisions
Eighth Army (Army Group Thirteen - Kerensky) 21 Divisions
Twelfth Army (Army Group Thirteen - Kerensky) 21 Divisions
Fifteenth Army (Army Group Thirteen - Kerensky) 19 Divisions
Sixteenth Army (Army Group Thirteen - Kerensky) 20 Divisions
Thirteenth Army (Army Group Fourteen - Baptiste) 20 Divisions
Eighteenth Army (Army Group Fourteen - Baptiste) 20 Divisions
Second Army (Federated Suns) 2 AFFS Divisions + 2 Volunteer Divisions
Eleventh Army (Rim Worlds / Lyran Commonwealth) 12 Divisions + CCAF Auxiliaries + 1 Volunteer Division
-
SLS McKenna’s Pride, New Dallas
Tyrfing Province, Terran Hegemony
24 June 2771
New Dallas should have had formidable defences, but the SLDF had found the SDS drones gone, the ground bases and Castles Brian smashed by orbital bombardment.
“They held out for weeks.” Kerensky wished that the dignities of his office would allow him to rest his face in his hands. “If their HPG had survived, they could have called on Eighth Army for help. Instead they were left alone and blockaded until Amaris could dispatch a fleet to crush their defences.”
Philip Drummond shook his head. “They were still holding out, General. The bases were destroyed, but you saw the welcome our troops had. Organised resistance never halted. These people kept the faith that you’d return and they were right.”
“Yes.” The general turned away from the view port. “Yes… they held on. As so many did not.”
“I know something about resisting Amaris when force of arms isn’t on your side,” the intelligence officer advised. “These people’s stories need to be heard. Everywhere that people are still clinging to the idea that the Usurper is the rightful Director-General, that he’s a reformer or the like – what happened here will show the Hegemony who he truly is.”
“I will take your advice.” Kerensky looked at his desk and then ran one hand back over his bare head. “Enough men and women are coming out of their ruined cities, out of hiding places in the mountains and forests, demanding to serve in fighting Amaris… Perhaps their words will even stir the Star League Council.”
“Let’s not let optimism get out of hand,” Drummond told him cynically.
“Perhaps you are right. You have heard that Robert Steiner has offered soldiers now?”
The Rim Worlder snorted. “With more or less strings attached than Liao’s offer?”
“More, although he offers more soldiers as well. Fifty regiments, almost a tenth of the LCAFs’ strength given the expanded size of their regiments. However, he offers them only to take over garrison roles on the Commonwealth and Republican worlds.”
“How typical. It’s easy for him to offer services for operations that offer little to no chance of ever facing Amaris forces. And if you station them on Republic worlds then you’re basically giving him permission to annex them.” Drummond gave the general a worried look. “Will you accept?”
“Either would give him the opportunity to strangle our supply lines, but at the same time, there are eight corps tied down defending those lines. I may need those forces if losses continue to climb.”
“Sir, the legitimacy of the provisional government is shaky enough as it is. If the Lyrans begin annexing worlds then the Republic could collapse into another civil war.”
“And I cannot afford that either. Hmm.” Kerensky sank into his chair. “So once again I must navigate between Scylla and Charybdis.”
“Pardon?”
“It’s a classical reference, Major. I will accept part of his offer then, handing over responsibilities for some sectors of the Commonwealth to the Archon’s regiments, but not our key supply lines. And since I am asking for fewer soldiers than he has offered, surely there can be no harm in requisitioning stores from his own bases in order to equip Lyran volunteers within the ranks of the SLDF.”
Drummond exhaled. “Thank you, sir.”
“Don’t thank me, young man. I can only compromise so far.” The old man – Kerensky was seventy and knew that he looked and felt half again the age – studied Drummond for a moment. “I have a new assignment for you.”
“Yes sir?”
“The prison camps. Our camps, you understand. Not Amaris’ concentration camps.”
The Rim Worlder nodded. Not every Rim regiment fought to the last. Some knew that they could expect no mercy from the vengeful SLDF or were too much under the thumb of political officers to offer surrender until the soldier’s blood was up and the opportunity was lost, but units caught out in the open sometimes ceased resistance before matters reached that point. Deaths among the commanders were common triggers – Drummond wouldn’t be surprised if some of those deaths hadn’t been at SLDF guns. Even the most reliable regiments had some soldiers who saw the writing on the wall.
Prisoner of war camps housed the captives and very few SLDF regiments enjoyed guarding them. Often the work was more about protecting the surrendering soldiers from impromptu revenge by armed civilians than it was about preventing escapes.
“Go through them, Drummond. Find officers and men willing to return to their homes and protect them. I won’t enrol such men in the SLDF but we can form…” He sighed. “Independent defence contractors are what the Federated Suns calls them. Regiments hired on for a specific mission.”
“Mercenaries.”
“Yes. We will send them home, pay them. Equip them, within reason. Not BattleMechs or heavy tanks but mechanised infantry and cavalry units. In return they must pledge to support Lucien Dormax and his government. Perhaps in time the seeds of an independent military force for the Republic.”
“Or the seeds of more conflict,” Drummond warned. “I’ll pick as carefully as I can, but a man who seems sincere here could find himself stirred to ambition once he’s on his homeworld with troops at his back.”
“As long as General Saayman is there, I believe such urges can be kept in check.”
The two men exchanged understanding looks. As long as Saayman and his twenty-two divisions are there… but if they need to be withdrawn…
.o0O0o.
Avalon City, New Avalon
Crucis March, Federated Suns
29 September 2771
“Small arms production is up,” Thomas Green-Davion reported. “Not just ammunition but military grade rifles as well. Are you sure you want to give the SLDF priority on laser weapons?”
John nodded confidently. “Our regular infantry regiments can call on the stockpiles built up over the last fifty odd years, the main demand we have for small arms at the moment is bringing the Planetary Guard regiments up to standard.”
“It’s always been traditional that those regiments are armed at the discretion of the planetary government,” warned Rita Hasek. The duchess of New Syrtis was making one of her regular visits to New Avalon. “A lot of them are going to complain that this is undermining local manufacturers and designers.”
“Unfortunately, that tradition has turned the logistics of supplying them into a snarl,” Green-Davion reminded her. “They’ll still have options, but by cutting it down to weapons firing specific ammunition we’re going to be in a much better place if we have to nationalise those troops or – even worse – call on them to reinforce a neighbouring world.”
“If they’re really worried about local firms, I believe the SLDF is currently offering to license the Mauser 960 to anyone who’ll contract to provide them,” John added drily. “It’s well within the rights of a planetary government to offer a grant or loan for re-tooling and if there’s any more lucrative option than selling the SLDF their standard infantry weapon then I don’t know what it is.”
Hasek chuckled. “And when – it’s such a relief not to be saying if – Kerensky finally has Amaris swinging from a gallows? Who’ll buy Mausers then?”
Hans Zibler raised his hand. “Four or five years from now we’ll have drawn quite heavily into our reserves,” he pointed out. “Unless there’s some sort of mass disarmament, I expect we’ll want a reserve of laser rifles and if it’s good enough for the SLDF’s infantry I have a hard job seeing it as being rejected by my department.”
“I’m not trying to stamp out local manufacture, Rita. But there’s never going to be a better time to get rid of some of the more... esoteric issue equipment that’s crept into inventories since Uncle Richard’s Preparedness Act. Militia armouries aren’t just for them to use. If necessary we might need to tap into their reserves to keep frontline forces in action. It’s all very well for an entire militia to be firing 12.7mm heavy sniper rifles, but if a jump infantry regiment needs 6.5mm rounds for their carbines then they’ll be out of luck trying to re-supply from that militia’s stockpiles. And I can just imagine how well carrying a long-barrelled sniper rifle would go with operating a jump pack.”
The duchess shrugged. “I’m just warning you that it won’t be popular.”
“Tell them they can sell off the excess of their more unique purchases,” Green-Davion pointed out. “There are more than enough security firms and noble retinues who’ve been complaining about the AFFS and SLDF buying everything their usual suppliers are building. Their logistics won’t be our problem.”
“I sincerely hope they don’t become our problem.” John thought about some of the ‘noble retinues’ that Hanse had described. The Stephensons of New Ivaarson had actually fielded two entire BattleMech regiments, or so the ghost prince had claimed. It sounded like a recipe for disaster to John. “Moving along… artillery?”
“Johnston has confirmed that they can give us priority on the Carronade,” Zibler told the group. “That’s their new self-propelled gun,” he added to Hasek.
“I’m familiar,” she told him. “Their heavier factories may be on Barstow and Kirklin but the Johnston’s home is on New Syrtis after all. I’m just surprised the SLDF doesn’t want them.”
John sighed. “Budget,” he explained. “Their artillery procurement is focusing on light artillery vehicles since that’s where they’re taking the steepest losses. The Carronade is a medium artillery piece, which they don’t need quite so much.”
“Well, why not build light artillery?”
“Because we need the medium artillery,” Zibler told her. “And we need it badly – practically our entire reserve is pre-Star League copies of Rivverson Technologies’ Ballistas and domestic production of spare parts ran into litigation something like a century and a half ago. Since then we’ve been eking out purchases from Rivverson, but since they’re based on Nanking in the Terran Hegemony…”
Hasek nodded. “So who does build light artillery?”
“Veridian Dynamics, at their Ozawa factory – which is back online at last – and starting next year they’ll be building the Vali and a variant that should compete with the Thumper or the Thor in a light tube artillery role on Torrence too.”
“Ah,” she said in satisfaction. Ozawa might be in the Hegemony but Torrence was deep inside the Crucis March – one of the founding worlds that had signed the original Crucis Pact. “And heavy artillery?”
“That’s not something we’re really looking at – at least in a self-propelled role,” John told her. “That’s where we get into fortress defence guns, really. The SLDF has their Long Tom mobile guns – and Amaris has them now I suppose – but they’re a bit too specialised for any sort of mobile warfare.”
“As long as the Crapellans and Draconians aren’t building them.”
Eric Pond shook his head. “Definitely not,” he assured her as John and Green-Davion exchanged looks at the crude ‘witticism’ the duchess had attempted.
“Where will we be assigning the Carronades?” asked Eis Moscoe. “The Davion Guards first?”
“Equal assignment between the Davion Guards and the Crucis Dragoons,” John decided. “The heavyweight ‘Mechs of the Dragoons should benefit from having a concentrated battery of medium artillery at their backs.”
“The Avalon Hussars usually receive second priority over the Guards,” noted Green-Davion. “As their Colonel-in-Chief…”
“Normally, yes. And they’re third for this – as well as having priority for any artillery being handed down by the Guards.” John waited for a nod before continuing. “Also, after discussing this with General Stopec, I’ve decided to raise a new Davion Guard regiment. Colonel Perez, until recently commander of the First Avalon Hussars, has been entrusted with selecting Mechwarriors from the Avalon Hussars, Robinson Chevaliers and the Syrtis Fusiliers to form the BattleMech regiment.”
“So that’s why he was recalled from the Hegemony!” Rita exclaimed. “I thought it seemed… odd.”
“The timing was a little unfortunate,” John conceded. “As we’re reorganising the Brigade of Guards into the new division structures, the time was right to form the Sixth Davion Guards. Along with the reorganisation, the brigade is being formally renamed the Davion Corps of Guards, with six reinforced divisions of four brigades each to accommodate the existing infantry, armour and other supporting arms.”
.o0O0o.
Hardship, Tyrfing
Tyrfing Province, Terran Hegemony
14 November 2771
General Watanabe had taken his words to heart, Kerensky thought. He’d hit the provincial capital hard, depending on orbital bombardment to neutralise the Castles Brian and other surface-to-orbit bases, then dropped his divisions as nearly on top of the Rim Worlds garrison as he could. Heavily entangled in the SLDF units, the Rim Worlds had been restrained – well, relatively restrained – in utilising WMDs against troop concentrations and been too focused on the fighting to make more than token efforts to destroy the civilian infrastructure.
That didn’t mean there had been no civilian casualties – the Rim Worlders had based themselves out of the major cities so that was where Watanabe had come down.
The military losses in the first week had been nightmarish, the civilian casualties unthinkable even four years before…
But when that week was over, Eighth Army had been able to focus on the remaining deep bunkers and remote bases that hadn’t been targeted in the first wave. Overall, losses had been less than on similarly heavily defended worlds.
And Tyrfing would not be another Lockdale.
“I haven’t made myself popular,” the general admitted reluctantly in the temporary headquarters. The capitol building had been spared serious damage mostly by pure chance – the Rim Worlds unit that should have been defending it had been deployed to restrain elements of a Lancer Division – bottom of the barrel mercenaries – that had run amok in one final round of looting before the landing. The ever resourceful Major Drummond had turned up a copy of the orders and the Rim Worlds commander had been authorised to execute up to one-tenth of the mercenaries so long as he got them back into position to fight the ‘invaders’.
Whether or not those orders had been carried out was unclear. The brigade-sized battle group that landed on both units had lost something like a third of their strength, including every officer above the rank of major, and the only survivors of Amaris’ forces had been detained in a police station that ‘mysteriously’ burned to the ground that night.
“You did what I told you to do, General Watanabe.” Kerensky found it refreshing to leave McKenna’s Pride. The warship had been his home for years now, but it was important to return to the surface of planets. To feel the wind against his cheeks and to look the citizens in their eyes – even if those looks were accusing. “Had you shown less resolution, many of the people who blame you for this damage would have suffered far worse.”
“Another officer might have done better.”
Kerensky nodded. “There are better tacticians, better strategists. You have such men on your staff, yes? But managing such men is where a commander shines and this you do well where they might not. It is not given to us to know what might happen, only to pay the costs we must.” He essayed a small smile. “I am not reluctant to remove commanders in whom I lack confidence.”
Watanabe straightened his shoulders. “On behalf of my men, thank you.”
“The circle will close soon. Landings have taken place on Hechnar and Brownsville,” the Commanding General informed him. “After that, Outreach will be liberated and Carver V relieved. Amaris will be cut off from the rimwards edge of the Hegemony and this is their work. Another step towards Terra has been taken.”
“I would like to volunteer my men for the Outreach operation.”
Kerensky extended his hand and Watanabe accepted. “I would not have it any other way,” he assured the man. With two armies reducing the fortified worlds along the Lyran border and two more providing garrisons, only XXII Corps had been available to push for Hechnar. Using anyone but the Eighth to liberate the world known for the Martial Olympiad would have been a logistical nightmare.
Once Watanabe was on his way back to his own headquarters, Kerensky opened the next item in his workload. A proposal from Corean Enterprises to… He shook his head. That would be useful in a material sense, but there would be other consequences. Checking the settings on his intercom he entered the proper code.
“AFFS Liaison Office, Major Rand-Davion speaking.”
“Major, this is General Kerensky.”
“How can I help you, sir?”
Kerensky read off the proposal reference. “You are familiar with this notion?”
“I have seen it, sir. I’m not entirely sure that the legal basis of the SLDF granting direct license for a contractor’s designs is sound.”
“It is technically valid but likely the corporations would challenge. Wasat and Connaught may not be liberated at this time but I hope that they will be soon.”
Rand-Davion chuckled. “And once you have Kong Interstellar and Renault-Prime’s factories directly available there’s no merit in licensing the Flashman and the Black Knight designs to Corean.”
“Some merit, yes, but not enough that I wish to alienate the two firms before they can be directly approached. Certainly, additional heavy BattleMechs would be helpful and the energy armaments ease logistics. If they themselves wish to license to Corean – to cover the cost of repairs as may be needed – then I will be pleased to instruct that their production be purchased.”
“Would you like me to arrange a diplomatic message to that effect then, general?”
“Forward for my endorsement, please.” Kerensky ran a quick check and noted a second message relevant to Corean. “Also include my approval of their Devil gun carriage for purchase. That may soften the refusal.”
Losses of Demon and Fury heavy tanks had been significant, both vehicles’ armament built around gauss rifles. The Devil had been proposed as a short-term replacement, lacking a turret or even the flexibility of a fusion engine, but it was eminently affordable and AFFS procurement had issued a favourable report on Corean’s quality control.
The First Prince’s cousin made a sympathetic sound. “I’ll have it in your inbox by this evening then, sir. If I may call one matter to your attention while you’re on the line?”
Kerensky frowned. “Yes?”
“General Motors have responded to your decision not to approve funding for their new designs.”
“I must prioritise weapon systems which may be ready for action in a useful timespan,” the general replied, deftly running a search for the message. “Funds are… ah.”
“Obviously it’s entirely up to you whether you wish to authorise the release of the technology involved, but as you point out it’ll take time to complete development so the sooner they know…”
According to the message, John Davion had offered to find funding for the project. All very well, but this would release the technology used in the three designs into Federated Suns hands for all practical purposes. The pulse laser systems were technically already built by Precision Weaponry in the Draconis March but only for SLDF use – all three designs called for the use. And then there were the electronic systems – always before the complex programming had been done by Terran firms, even for designs like the Battleaxe or the new Wolverine that were otherwise designed in the member-states.
There were other advanced technologies, but mostly Kerensky thought that the Federated Suns could make them already. Whether they could do so in useful quantities…
How much have I divulged already? he wondered. I’ve placed great trust in the First Prince and his state. Without them, we would have been entirely reliant upon the captured factories of the Rim Worlds Republic. I could not risk such a rapid offensive without his aid… but how much of a price will I pay in the end for that aid?
“I…” For a moment he was about to refuse but… the horse has bolted. Worry about the larger view, this is a symptom not the cause for concern. “…grant my approval.” He entered the necessary phrases into an electronic reply and issued it. “Express my regrets to General Motors, if you would, that I could not offer more at this time.”
I need to discuss this idea with others, he thought. Janos knows Davion best out of my officers. Drummond… he has the suspicious mind I need for these things and… yes, most of all I should consult Aaron. I will call him to meet me on Carver V once we have relieved General van der Kolk’s marines.
-
Avalon City, New Avalon
Crucis March, Federated Suns
29 February 2772
“It really is a comic opera, isn’t it,” John said in astonishment.
“I can’t really disagree with that assessment, sire.” Francesca Reznick shook her head. “I’m not sure that this could happen anywhere else, not even in the Free Worlds League.”
Hanse snorted. “I think I could come up with an example,” he said from where he leant against John’s desk.
“I have to respect the Executive Parliament’s stance.” Joshua had been invited to sit in on the briefing as part of his general education on statecraft. “Simpson Avellar has a monopoly of force on his side – the Alliance Military Corp still has something on the order of twenty regiments and he’s effectively in command of them.”
“Not all power comes from the muzzle of a gun,” John told his son. “Quite a lot of it, but there are limits. It’s easy for us to see that Allyce Avellar is… ill-suited to govern, but she’s immensely popular with the Omniss and they’re a powerful political force within the Alliance electorate.”
“That’s very true. They even see the economic collapse on some worlds as beneficial since they actively advocate moving away from sophisticated technology and the social structures it enables,” Reznick nodded.
“Never under-estimate the persuasive power of human idiocy. The history of pre-industrial societies was no less bloody than our own era, but they aren’t going to let facts get in the way of their ideology.”
John summarised Hanse’s words in a slightly more polite form, finishing: “However idiotic it seems to us, their anti-militarism leaves the AMC outside of the political mainstream. Simpson might threaten to rule by military force but realistically he can’t coerce more than a couple of worlds like that – he doesn’t have the forces or the logistics, and the rest of the Alliance would simply ignore him out of stubborn principle.”
Reznick adjusted her documentation. “On the other hand, it’s hard to rally support against him. The obvious ringleader would be Allyce Avellar, but…”
John couldn’t help but laugh lightly. “I think we can safely rule that out. I don’t wish her any harm, but she’s constitutionally incapable of that sort of leadership.”
“Our analysts don’t feel there’s any likelihood that she’ll come to harm while she’s detained. As a martyr she’d be far more damaging to Simpson Avellar’s cause than she is alive.” The minister smiled lightly. “I suppose we can expect an extended deadlock in the Alliance then.”
“It’s going to set the trade arrangements back until it is resolved though,” Joshua noted. “Couldn’t we do something?”
“Like what? Send an expeditionary force and squash Simpson’s regiments? It’s certainly possible but there would be a few unfortunate consequences to that.”
“You mean that the Kuritas would feel free to intervene too.”
“That’s one of them. Right now the Alliance is more useful to both ourselves and the Combine as it is – it’s no threat to us but it also ensures neither of us could outflank the other. If the Coordinator sees us doing that then he’d almost have to do the same rather than let us secure positions along his border.”
“And the Alliance would see us as invaders and Allyce Avellar as our proxy.”
“Kicking off another Hidden War with the Combine would be bad enough. Doing it in that quagmire would be less than ideal.” John stretched his arms. “No, I think we’ll issue a diplomatic note.”
“A note?”
“Yes, something along the lines that, hmm… Regardless of whether or not the Outworlds Alliance is a member of the Star League or not, they remain a separate state with the right to determine their own leadership without outside interference. It’ll reassure the Alliance that we’re not trying to invade them, warn the Combine that we’re not going to let them try to take advantage either.”
“It probably will upset Robert Steiner though,” Hanse noted. “I really doubt he’s given up on the idea of trying to annex the Rim Worlds Republic.”
“I’m sure someone will take offense anyway,” John continued smoothly, “But we can’t please everyone.”
“Moving on?” Reznick asked.
“By all means. What’s next?”
“Our operations in the Hegemony continue to bear fruit,” the minister advised. “We’ve less penetration in worlds liberated by Army Group Thirteen, but we’ve been able to compromise a considerable number of industrial firms on liberated worlds in Lockdale and Lone Star Provinces through the reconstruction teams assigned to relief work.”
“Why are we spying on our allies?” Joshua asked seriously. “Don’t we need the Hegemony to recover as a trading partner?”
“There are several reasons,” his father answered. “Firstly, today’s allies could be tomorrow’s enemies. As a general principle, both Military Intelligence and the Ministry of Information pay attention to all the Star League’s realms regardless of current relations. It takes time to set up networks of informants, if relations sour then we need them in place, not to have to begin work from scratch.”
”Secondly, what’s happened to the Hegemony has shown just how many eggs we’ve placed in one basket. The level of dependence we’ve found is a serious danger not just to the economy of the Suns but also to the very existence of some of our worlds that need terraforming equipment on a continuing basis. It’s not in the interests of the Federated Suns to have our citizens needing to look outside our borders for the fundamentals of their day to day lives.”
“So this isn’t intended to undermine them?”
“No, not at all. But we want to have a more… equitable relationship with the Hegemony in the future. Many of the firms are being encouraged to set up branches in the Suns so that we’ll have access to their capabilities if we need them in the future. Those that choose not to… well they’re going to find themselves some competition for markets in the future. Not enough to wall them out, but enough that they can’t dominate our industries in quite the way they have before.”
“And it also helps that we can export some of that expertise to the Concordat and the Alliance,” Reznick added. “That’ll be an avenue for us to keep a closer eye on them in the future. The more they isolate themselves the harder that is, but if there’s a flourishing trade then we can both keep an eye on each other.”
“Aren’t you supposed to stop them from spying on us?” Joshua protested.
“Sometimes. At other times it’s better to simply identify their spies and control what information they receive.”
John nodded. “It’s important to stable relations to let them see some of what we’re doing. The Taurians have every reason to fear that we’re going to be looking at their worlds avariciously – we seized several of their worlds two hundred years ago and it’s far too late to return them. No one there has ever been anything but a Federated Suns citizen. But by letting their agents see that we have no immediate interest in aggression against them, relations can ease to the point of doing business.”
“And I suppose Star League Intelligence spies on us for the same reason.”
“Oh good lord, yes. There are hundreds of spies in the Federated Suns.”
“Thousands,” Reznick corrected him. “Primarily engaged in counter-intelligence, but not all of them. We’ve turned some of their spy rings but many citizens feel that it’s not really treason to support the Star League over the Federated Suns.”
“What are they afraid of?”
“Well, there are things like the upgraded Stukas built on Demeter for the SLDF, or Raimei’s upgraded Sabre programme on Panpour. Those designs are supposed to be reserved for SLDF use only, the sort of equipment that would normally be reserved for Royal Command in fact. Most of what they use we can duplicate in principle but General Kerensky would rather that we don’t have enough data on the exact applications for use by the AFFS.”
“And I take it some of this has fallen into our hands?” Joshua asked perceptively.
“We try not to be too obvious about it,” the Prince said mildly. “Some of our recent designs such as the improved Wolverines, have SLDF sanction. On the other hand, the new Centurion II aerospace fighters Panpour are developing for the FSN probably wouldn’t be possible if we hadn’t copied a lot of the engine data from Lycomb’s SLDF model of the Stuka.”
.o0O0o.
Quantico, Carver V
Alliance Core, Terran Hegemony
1 March 2772
“The Federated Suns’ support for the SLDF has cost you practically all of the Hegemony’s technological edge,” Drummond reported with brutal honesty. “Much of the Rim Worlds hardware they’ve been salvaging is directly from Terran factories, so the segregation of SLDF salvage hasn’t done a thing to stop them examining Royal-grade equipment. They don’t have access to fields currently being researched but there’s little or nothing in service that they can’t duplicate or better to some extent.”
Kerensky sighed heavily. In relief, not any sort of sorrow. “We were always supposed to have eventually handed such technologies over. The First Lords thought… well, it doesn’t matter. We’ll have to give the same to the other Lords but by the time they have them in production it shouldn’t matter much.”
“I’m sorry, general, but I think you’re taking a… forgive me, rather blinkered view of that.” Edward Hughes no longer represented the Bureau of Star League Affairs in the Free Worlds League; partly because he’d finally annoyed Kenyon Marik enough that broad hints had been dropped that he’d perhaps make a greater contribution to the General Kerensky somewhere – anywhere – else; and partly because the shrunken activities of the BSLA inside the League no longer really needed an administrator of his expertise.
Instead he had taken on oversight for reconstruction work, a task that most assuredly did. Two of them, in fact. Reika Isu’s polite snubbing by the Coordinator had eventually made her position at the court on Luthien untenable. She wasn’t present though, currently working on overseeing the salvaging of what had been vastly productive agricultural lands on Lone Star.
Aaron DeChevilier grunted and then scratched his chin. “Perhaps so. And I doubt this is all Major Drummond has found out, not to mention Janos.”
“It isn’t, but I’d be interested to hear what you have to say, Administrator Hughes,” the admiral agreed.
“I’ve been in contact with Bennett Green,” Hughes told them. “The loss of access to Hegemony manufacturers has had a knock-on effect on all the state economies. The Lyran Commonwealth was the only state with enough of an industrial base to contend with the Hegemony. The Marik’s Credit Crisis of 2732 made the point rather brutally that the other states couldn’t maintain their own factories for an extended period without access to parts and sometimes labour from the Hegemony. The Lyrans were never able to provide that capacity as efficiently as Terran firms, which hurt them, but they weren’t dependent in the same way as the League was – or the Suns.”
“That’s changed then?” asked DeChevilier.
“It had to change. The Federated Suns’ military industry couldn’t build everything that the SLDF needed without explosive growth and with tax revenues higher there than anywhere else, there was plenty of money to throw at that problem. At first they accepted the price of brute-forcing solutions, building factories that couldn’t compete with the efficiency of the automation used in the Hegemony.”
Kerensky looked at Grec. “At first?” he asked. “You were there, Janos. What happened?”
“I’m sorry, I didn’t see it. I was too close and it seemed like little increments. It wasn’t until the Major and I started comparing notes that I realised what they’d done.”
“They can build comparable tooling?”
Drummond nodded. “Salvatore Incorporated have a new production facility for their new Tomahawk aerospace fighter. It’s as efficient as anything I’ve seen on liberated worlds and they didn’t have to import anything. The fighter itself isn’t anything grand – something between the THK-63 in standard service and the THK-63b issued to Royal command, didn’t you say Admiral?”
“That’s my opinion. They have better, Jalastar’s Centurion II is a credible threat to Royal Command’s Tridents, but Salvatore’s factory is the worrying thing.”
The Commanding General refilled his water glass and sipped from it. “How much of that could be domestic development?”
“It’s hard to put a number on it,” Drummond admitted. “Some of it certainly is, but we also know that Federated Suns relief workers have been reporting on Terran manufacturing methods from the very start and refugees with applicable skills are being actively recruited by manufacturers in the Suns.”
“And the consequences? Other than that we’ve given him the strongest military-industrial complex outside of the Hegemony.”
“That side probably isn’t too terrible.” Hughes steepled his fingers. “There’s a limit to how much he can spend on military production. He will be buying a much higher quality of military equipment than his fellow lords, but much of the rest will be going to the SLDF or, if orders decline, they will need to retool for civilian manufacture.”
“Which they can do?”
“Oh yes. And therein lies the problem: the Federated Suns no longer needs to trade with the Hegemony in order to keep their industries at the same level. To a lesser degree the other states have moved in the same direction, they’ve had no choice, but their factories can’t compete economically without the sort of protective regulations that the Commonwealth use.”
DeChevilier made a face. “At the risk of sounding partial to the state I was born in, is that a bad thing? There’s already a vast amount of rebuilding to be done in the Hegemony and it’ll be worse by the time Terra is restored. We’ll need those factories.”
“It means that the Terran Hegemony is no longer first among equals. Or at least, that there is a clear second power within the Star League.” Hughes looked over at DeChevilier. “That will be very destabilising in the long run.”
“Restrain yourself, Administrator.” Kerensky’s tone was steely. “The responsibility was mine. John Davion is a pillar of the Star League, but he is also deeply committed to ensuring the strength of the Federated Suns among the member-states. I should have considered how he would reconcile those goals.”
“He’s hardly betrayed us.” Grec hesitated. “Although…”
“Yes?”
“I was born in the Capellan Confederation, you may recall. Not on a border world, and I spent most of my childhood in space but still… We don’t know what can be done to restore the government of the Hegemony. If House Cameron is no more then their right to primacy upon the Star League Council died with them. I don’t think many Capellans would be pleased if the Davions sought to shift the position of First Lord to themselves.”
“The Hegemony remains the heart of the League,” Hughes responded sharply. “That can’t change – the Star League depends…”
“That’s the problem,” Drummond pointed out. “I saw this more sharply than those of you born in the Inner Sphere. The Star League was built around giving its members access to Terran technology… but always access, never control. Worlds in the periphery were forced to be inter-dependent in order to make it harder for us to claim independence again, but there’s the same logic within the League. Trade around the Inner Sphere was always much less than trade across it, passing through Terran space even if it didn’t involve the Hegemony directly. But with the Hegemony unable to trade for years, there’s room for a new hub.”
“I can’t see the Capellans or the Draconians trading heavily with their old rivals in the Suns.”
“Not directly, no. But there have been very quiet talks on New Avalon between representatives of the Taurians and the Outworlders. Trade talks. I haven’t been able to confirm if the Canopians are involved or not. Given that the Federated Suns is already trading again with worlds near them in the Hegemony, that’s three states using them as an intermediary.”
“What side is he on?” asked DeChevilier, voice rising. “We only have a ceasefire with the Periphery.”
“Whatever he is doing, we can at least place limits upon his access to Terran industry in the future,” Kerensky decided. “And best we also examine the activities of the other Member States. At root, I believe John Davion is still seeking the best interests of the Star League, even if his views of them differ somewhat from those held within the room. I am less convinced of that in other cases.”
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Drak, you just posted an update that's really just several groups of people having meetings, but it was still an interesting read. Well done
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Well, to be fair Ghost Hans is their guiding and helping with decision making. Also even if the other lords had their own Ghosts from the future I do not think they would do half as good. Just my personal thought.
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Drak, you just posted an update that's really just several groups of people having meetings, but it was still an interesting read. Well done
Thank you.
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Well, to be fair Ghost Hans is their guiding and helping with decision making. Also even if the other lords had their own Ghosts from the future I do not think they would do half as good. Just my personal thought.
Never underestimate Spectral Sun-Tzu Liao.
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The thoughts of a dead teddy kurtia helping out his house becoem something much better and working with the suns of all things...the IS would not know what hit it....
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Never underestimate Spectral Sun-Tzu Liao.
Never underestimate the effect of him filling in his ancestor on the next 300 years´ worth of "Davion aggression and crimes against humanity".
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I feel Kerensky already has Ulric and probably Natasha advising him.
Whichever numb-nut is in charge of FWL and LyrComm are probably ignoring "Thomas Marik" and Katrina Steiner.
Who have I missed?
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I don't think any Calderon ever would be able to provide useful advice to their ancestors...
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Never underestimate the effect of him filling in his ancestor on the next 300 years´ worth of "Davion aggression and crimes against humanity".
Plot twist: all of the Liao insanity comes from Spectral Sun-Tzu haunting his own ancestors for centuries. "Aiee, the voice, the voice!"
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Now that made me laugh! ;D
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Plot twist: all of the Liao insanity comes from Spectral Sun-Tzu haunting his own ancestors for centuries. "Aiee, the voice, the voice!"
That explains SO MUCH.
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I feel Kerensky already has Ulric and probably Natasha advising him.
Dechevalier: "What do you mean Alex said 'This Charlie Foxtrot is yours, I'm locking myself and Nicholai in a room with a therapist?'"
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Just to worry you all, someone gave me the idea of Natasha Kerensky somehow replacing Aleksandr Kerensky without anyone noticing (Presumably before he became a father) and having command of the entire SLDF to liberate Terra.
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Just to worry you all, someone gave me the idea of Natasha Kerensky somehow replacing Aleksandr Kerensky without anyone noticing (Presumably before he became a father) and having command of the entire SLDF to liberate Terra kill Jerome Blake.
FTFY.
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That sex change operation Natasha underwent was a complete success. ;)
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Just to worry you all, someone gave me the idea of Natasha Kerensky somehow replacing Aleksandr Kerensky without anyone noticing (Presumably before he became a father) and having command of the entire SLDF to liberate Terra.
Now that would a fun one to read
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Now that would a fun one to read
even if it was just a dream for Hanse as he woke up from this story
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Natasha as Commanding General? o god, poor Amaris.
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Fort Landing, Chisholm
Terra Firma Province, Terran Hegemony
7 May 2772
Orbital bombardment had pulverised the outer fortifications around the Castle Brian overlooking the first settlements on Chisholm, rendering the landscape unrecognisable compared to previous maps and causing minor damage to outskirts of the city.
The SLDF hadn’t used nuclear weapons in that bombardment, partly to spare the city and partly because they knew troops would have to be sent across that ground.
Hunkering her Cestus in one of the craters, Susan Sandoval was reminded of the rice paddies of Valexa. At least now she had more tools to work with. “Readiness report!” she snapped.
“First battalion is ready to advance.”
“Third battalion and fourth battalions are in position,” Major Gav Greaney reported. He’d been only provisional commander of Third Battalion when they were rotated into the Hegemony – however much she’d pushed for promotions when she brought him across from the First Dragoons to form the cadre for the Fifth, Captain had been as far as Personnel had been willing to push him until he showed he was ready. The former sergeant’s performance on Pike IV had been enough to earn him the rank for his role though.
“Second and fifth check,” Susan confirmed. She was with them since they’d be the key part of this attack. Fifth were the infantry attacked to the Dao Dragoons, crammed into tracked personnel carriers that could just about handle the craters and other obstacles. “You’re clear to open fire.”
“Roger.”
Greaney’s ‘Mechs pushed up from whatever cover they’d found and began to steadily pound the exposed tunnel with fire. Artillery fire howled up above and shells rained down across the expanse of torn ground between the tunnel and the Dragoons. Smoke expanded from the impacts – Susan would need the cover and fourth battalion’s twenty-four towed guns were delivering it as fast as they could fire. Thick, concealing smoke laced with thermal and magnetic decoys.
“First Battalion advancing.”
Susan couldn’t see them but the sound of battle from the left carried through the smoke.
“Sir, should we advance?” asked Captain Paget.
Smythe made a protesting noise but for a wonder didn’t actually say anything.
“No captain. Give the enemy time to focus their attention first. We’ll be moving in all too soon,” Susan told the young captain. He’d inherited command after Major Blacking had been forced to eject earlier in operations and probably wasn’t as prepared for it as he should be. Still, at least he moderated his aggressive tendencies – there were worse faults in a junior officer. Blacking would be back from the field hospital in a week or two and Susan would talk about it with him then – see what they could do to bring Paget along.
There was enough wind that the smoke was beginning to clear, but it was drifting towards the enemy. “Gav, we’re going to need a little more smoke.”
“Understood colonel.”
Susan watched the battlefield fade again as more smoke layered over the area. Somewhere out in that, First Battalion was fighting, but she’d need to give them a little longer, until…
“Colonel?” Major Smithson sounded grim. “Their fire is picking up. Two of our ‘Mechs are down and I don’t know how much further we can press on. The smoke’s killing our accuracy as much as it is theirs.”
“Good work,” she answered. “If you can’t push further then dig in. We’re on our way.” One last check of her ‘Mech’s status confirmed that everything was green to go. “Captain Paget, we’re on our way in.”
“Yes sir!”
“Keep a steady pace,” she ordered, scrambling her Cestus up and over the edge of the crater. “Gav, a little more smoke and then artillery can shift to give First Battalion fire support.”
“Are you sure you don’t want us to cease fire? In this smoke we could have a friendly fire incident.”
“Negative, not until we’re close enough. That could spoil the surprise.”
“We’re gonna get shot in the back by our own fire support,” Smythe complained but her Dervish wasn’t far behind Susan’s Cestus.
“Sir, there’s a whining noise on the radio channel, should we use that as an aiming point?”
Susan snorted. “No Gav, the source is near me and you might hit me by accident.”
“Oh, never mind then. We wouldn’t want to frag our commander by accident.” There was a mocking weight to the last two words.
The combined elements of Second Battalion and Susan’s command lance fanned out into two lines, the line companies in the lead while the command and support elements stayed just ahead of the infantry transports. “I said a steady pace,” Susan reminded Paget as the back of the Champions and Koschei ahead started to drift out of view in the smoke.”
“Sorry, ma’am.”
It wasn’t just the craters. Much of the ground was heaps of smashed rock or impromptu berms of soft earth that couldn’t really take the weight of a ‘Mech. The faster heavies in the line companies were slowed a little by picking their way across the terrain, but it was keeping the slower elements in check and two personnel carriers got stuck and ‘Mechs lost time pulling them loose.
But they were getting closer and any moment now…
“Contact, left and -” The transmission cut off for a moment and the sound of missile detonations tore through the smoke, soon cut through by autocannon from the ‘Mechs of Second Battalion.
“Clear to manoeuvre,” Paget snapped immediately. “Left flank, focus them down, right push harder for the objective.”
Good, Susan thought. She pushed her ‘Mech forwards recklessly and Smythe fired her jump-jets, the Dervish leaping ahead to a vantage point. “Crud, Stalkers.”
“Get in at them!”
Smythe fired her LRMs and several crashed into what was little more than a shadowy-shape to Susan. Taking the detonations as a cue, she centred her crosshairs and fired. The ‘Mech seemed to stagger under the impacts and as she advanced, Susan saw that it was indeed a Stalker – twenty-tons heavier than her Cestus and equipped for frontal assault and defensive actions much like this one.
Turning its attention to her, the assault ‘Mech returned her shots, large lasers scoring armour across the left flank and arm although the missiles fortunately missed. Susan fired again, the gauss rifle slug hitting just a little below the cockpit lasers blasting armour away from one of the arm-mounted weapon-pods.
“Outflank them!” she ordered. If the heavier ‘Mechs could hold their ground then her attack would be torn apart as they fought their way up to the tunnel breach.
“Ma’am?”
“Not you, Paget. Take the right flank and go for the tunnel.” Susan only had a moment’s notice before a second Stalker loomed out of the smoke, medium lasers and short-range missiles smashing against her right arm. A Champion, one of the wing-like weapon mounts a smoking wreck, rushed after it. She saw ammunition was still dumping from the autocannon bins as the ‘Mech smashed shoulder first into the Stalker from behind.
With a crash the eight-five ton ‘Mech fell forwards, the ‘nose’ formed by its forward torso crashing through the ridge formed by the edge of another impact crater.
Susan, Smythe and the Champion pilot all unloaded their weapons into the upper surface of the sleek ‘Mech, where the cockpit was located. Which of them did the damage didn’t really matter, the result was that the compartment was ripped open by the combined fire.
Perhaps infuriated or perhaps identifying her as a commander, the first Stalker fired everything into Susan’s Cestus. That was reckless in the extreme, she could see the infra-red signature soar even with the smoke still confusing sensors, but her ‘Mech staggered backwards and she felt the gyro grinding and struggling. “Engine damage, gyro damage…!” the damage control system reported audibly as if she couldn’t feel the ‘Mech wobbling and the heat of the reactor through the baking sensation inside the cockpit.
Temporarily the Stalker had stopped moving, heat leaving myomers unable to contract and expand normally. Steadying herself with the Cestus’ left hand against the Champion, Susan aimed for the damage her earlier shot had done. This time she fired only the Gauss Rifle, sparing the lasers until her heatsinks managed to get the reactor’s output under control.
The shot blew through the already damaged armour and exposed reactor shielding that glowed on infra-red. A moment later the plates around the Stalker’s cockpit erupted outwards and the Mechwarrior ejected just ahead of the explosions that tore through his ‘Mech as super-heated missiles began to chain fire inside the magazines.
Susan took a moment to gasp for breath. No other threats in view. She snagged a bottle of lukewarm water from the side of the cockpit and flipped up her visor to squeeze some of the water into her mouth as the Cestus cooled.
An infantry carrier moved up past the feet of her ‘Mech and she closed up again, securing the bottle. “Smythe, you have point. Are you okay…” She checked the markings under the Champion’s cockpit. “Pederson?”
“Other than the autocannon, I’m doing fine,” the Mechwarrior confirmed.
“Okay, on my left then.”
The three ‘Mechs followed the sound of the guns, finding new wreckage amid the craters. Two Stalkers lay in the dirt, along with a Koschei and the Wolverine from her under-strength command lance. Susan paused to check for the ‘Mechwarriors but all four cockpits were empty – either they’d ejected or simply abandoned their ‘Mechs when it was clear they couldn’t fight further.
Finally they reached the breach.
It was more of a vertical entrance than a horizontal one – a shot from orbit had dropped the ceiling of a tunnel and an improvised ramp led down into it. Paget’s ‘Mechs were already down there, one of them kicking debris aside to make the descent easier for infantry carriers – although dismounted sappers were climbing down ahead of their transports.
“Paget! You have this under control?”
“Yes, colonel! There are defenders inside but we’re pushing them back.”
“Good work. Gav!”
“Colonel?”
“Get two companies of your battalion up here and reinforce Paget, one company is enough to secure our artillery.”
“Got it. Regimental HQ says that General Simons wants you to contact him as soon as operations permit.”
“Right, I’ll do that.” Just as soon as I’ve dealt with the forces pinning First Battalion in place, she decided. “Paget, detach one of your companies for me.”
“Echo company, form up on the Colonel,” the younger officer ordered promptly.
Seven Champion ‘Mechs converged on her position. That made sense to Susan. The Koscheis of Foxtrot Company didn’t have as many weapons but their armour was better which mattered down inside the Castle Brian.
With Smythe and Pederson that came to ten ‘Mechs, that ought to be enough. “The rest of the defenders should still be deployed facing First Battalion,” she advised. “We’re going to threaten their rear so that Major Smithson can roll them up.”
There were obvious tracks of ‘Mechs that formed a rough path in the right direction so Susan followed it. Her Cestus was the slowest ‘Mech present. She’d have said it was like being back in the Emperor but at least once they linked up with First Battalion, the regiment’s primary shock element, she’d see something she could outpace.
“Intel, do you have anything on the unit markings on the Stalkers we engaged earlier?” she asked.
“It’s one of their Dragoon regiments, part of the Sixth Amaris Regulars division,” her Ic officer responded. “Last report had the Ninety-First Amaris Dragoons with that division but we don’t have positive confirmation yet so that could have changed or they might have re-numbered the regiments again.”
Susan mentally scratched off the idea of offering the enemy a chance to surrender. Amaris Dragoons regiments were lavishly equipped with heavy combat gear because one of their roles was to keep less reliable units from buckling. They were tough troops, committed to Stefan Amaris… and if they weren’t as bad as the ‘Lancer’ Divisions, they were also more likely than not to commit atrocities.
“Major Smithson, what’s your condition?” she enquired.
“We’re three kilometres west of the breach,” he reported. “They’ve got two companies of ‘Mechs uphill from us – as heavy as my own ‘Mechs. We can’t force them back without heavy casualties and they’ve anchored their flanks on sections of the hill I can’t work around in any reasonable timeframe. But with artillery coming down, they can’t really retreat either.”
“Excellent work, Major. I’ve got a company moving in behind them. Once we’re in firing positions we can support a further advance.”
“They’ve got some sort of improvised trench that’s making it hard for artillery to work on them,” he advised. “I suggest height 118 if you can take it. That should give you enfilade fire on their left flank.”
Susan checked her map. “Agreed, we’ll go for it.”
Signalling her little force, she turned away from the path the enemy had used and cut across the damage towards one of the stubborn crags that hadn’t been flattened by the bombardment. Scrambling up the sides, the ten ‘Mechs ducked below the ridge and formed a rough line.
“Alright, there’s nothing complicated about this,” she ordered. “Once we’re above the ridge engage the nearest enemy ‘Mech you can see. That should be only one or two of them, taking concentrated fire. Once a target’s done move on to the next.”
On her own signal, Susan moved the Cestus up and spotted a Striker first. The Republicans seemed not even to notice her little command until they opened her fire and at least four other ‘Mechs were targeting the Striker. Heavily armoured as the ‘Mech was, one arm shredded almost immediately and the torso beyond was looking patchy before the Striker scrambled behind a boulder. This seemed to expose him to fire from down the slope though, as First Battalion began their ascent with their Xanthos lance in the lead where the quad ‘Mechs’ heavy armour could shield the rest of the battalion. A moment later, an ejection seat rocketed upwards from where the Striker had been.
Shifting her fire to a second Striker, Susan saw her lasers intersect with the chest and rip through already damaged armour. A moment later and two lines of tracer marked that Champions were engaging the ‘Mech with their autocannon. The Striker toppled with the suddenness that suggested a complete gyro failure. Immobilised, the ‘Mech was no longer a threat unless someone strayed into its arc of fire – which was now limited to the crevice that the Republicans were fighting from.
There was a roar of jump-jets and for a moment Susan thought it was Smythe’s Dervish. Instead, three ‘Mechs arced up and over the edge of the hill, brushing off fire from the oncoming First Battalion.
“Highlanders,” Susan identified them absently. They must have been under her line of sight and used the edge of the hill to close in.
One towering ‘Mech turned its landing into an attack, smashing into a Champion with such force that the two BattleMechs crashed down the slope Susan’s command had come up. The other two Highlanders landed, turned back to back and unleashed their weapons into the smaller ‘Mechs of the Dao Dragoons. Pederson’s ‘Mech had advanced further towards the Republicans as without his autocannon he needed to use shorter-range weapons. Now exposed to their fire from below, he punched out as one of the Highlanders ripped the heart of his Champion with a single salvo.
Smythe backed away, using her lasers and SRMs as she tried to get back into effective range for the LRMs that were her main weapon. Unfortunately the other Highlander had picked out the Dervish as the lightest ‘Mech present and another easy target.
Susan ran her Cestus forward to shield the other Mechwarrior’s ‘Mech and the fire slammed into the left side of her ‘Mech, breaking through armour weakened by the earlier fight against the Stalker. The arm was severed as the Highlander’s gauss rifle shot smashed cleanly through the Cestus’ shoulder.
Bringing up her right arm, Susan fired her remaining lasers, scoring armour down the Highlander’s right arm. LRMs flew past the left side of her ‘Mech and added more to the damage.
A Champion backed up and raked the right side of the Highlander with all four of its lasers, following that up with autocannon and short-range missiles. The gauss rifle in the assault ‘Mech’s right arm lit up with the flash of a capacitor discharge and the arm itself went limp.
Deprived of the weapon, the Highlander continued to direct his reduced firepower at Susan, correctly guessing that the overheating Champion would have to slacken its fire. That still left missiles tearing into the Cestus’ thick hide, even with Susan twisting to screen the damaged left-side, much of her armour was flagged as amber on the status display.
Then more ‘Mechs leapt up the side of the slope, these in the dull green of the Fifth Crucis Dragoons. A full lance of Hammerhands crashed down onto the hill top and with the ruthless fire discipline of that Major Smithson insisted on, they singled out the Highlander facing Susan as their target.
No less than eight autocannon flayed open the rear armour of the assault ‘Mech and half of them were firing cluster rounds, sub-munitions detonating inside the torso protection of the Highlander.
A moment later and the combined fire of the AFFS ‘Mechs had reduced the second Highlander to ruin as well. Down below, the rest of First Battalion was tearing through the Amaris Dragoons.
Susan let a breath out. “Major Smithson, you have command. I need to contact headquarters.”
“Roger sir, thanks for the assistance.”
Making sure her ‘Mech was covered against stray fire, Susan brought long-range communications up and waited for a connection through the constellation of satellites that had been put in place once it was clear that the Republican forces would no longer be able to simply shoot them down. “Headquarters, this is Colonel Sandoval. I understand General Simons wants to speak to me.”
A moment later the familiar voice of the corps commander was on the channel. “How’s your position, Colonel?”
“We’ve secured entry into the Castle and cleaned up the defenders outside, sir. If the rest of the brigade moves up we should have a secure foothold by tonight.”
“I’m pleased to hear that, Colonel. An SLDF brigade is moving up to take over the operation though. You can expect their dropships within the hour.”
Susan blinked. “Taking over? Are we needed somewhere else?”
“The 105th and 136th Mechanized Infantry Divisions will be relieving our Corps of responsibility here on Chisholm,” the General told her. “We’re being reassigned to Clovis as our new base of operations.”
“Clovis?” It took her a moment to realise he didn’t mean a city, or region. “The world? The world in the Draconis March?”
“I’m pleased with your grasp of geography, Colonel.”
“Sir, as far as I’m aware no one on the Corps is in need of relief. We have matters under control – even the First Hussars have been playing ball pretty well. Why are we being sent back to the Federated Suns?”
“Officially, it’s to free up the regular regiments of 2nd Army for operations in the Hegemony. Unofficially, Colonel it’s political. This comes directly from General Kerensky’s headquarters and the First Prince has confirmed the orders.”
“Politics! We just kicked the crap out of the Amaris Dragoons!”
“Yes, politics.” Simons sounded tired. “It’s out of our hands, Colonel. I have my orders, you have yours and now we’ll have to face the triumphal parades, the formal dinners and the interminable medal ceremonies – I know it’s a terrible sacrifice on your part.”
.o0O0o.
Gorst City, Clovis
Draconis March, Federated Suns
17 June 2772
“We volunteered to fight Amaris, not to guard warehouses and repair bases,” Colonel David Stone said in an accusative tone. He paused and removed his cap belatedly. “I apologise, General Davion, but that is my feeling and that is the feeling among my men.”
There were murmurs of agreement from the other officers gathered – both those wearing SLDF uniforms and those of the AFFS. John was also wearing SLDF uniform, feeling that this was more appropriate to his current role. “I understand those feelings, Colonel Stone. The courage you and your troops showed in offering your services to General Kerensky is of the highest order. Had I been so… foolish as to refrain from leading the AFFS into war against Amaris, I would hope that brave men and woman would have scorned me as you did Kenyon Marik.”
The Amaris Coup hadn’t just led to a steady flow of volunteers entering SLDF training. Serving or retired soldiers across four member-states had flocked to Kerensky’s banners, sometimes despite the howling protests of their superiors. It probably hadn’t helped that many of them took military equipment with them.
Hanse’s advice had let John head off similar defections – the fact that AFFS regiments were already in action had provided a channel for men and women to volunteer to serve in units sent to the frontlines. Even those returning to service had been welcomed since even if they turned out not to be quite fit for active service, they could free up other personnel to do so.
Collectively, the Volunteer Corps of the SLDF had been more than twice the size of the AFFS troop contributions, formed into four divisions. The Capellan division had been absorbed back into the CCAF after Barbara Liao’s decision to support Kerensky and now the Lyran and Free Worlds divisions had been presented to John along with command of what was still, on paper, the SLDF’s Second Army.
Ten years ago, the SLDF had maintained an army group totalling seventy-four divisions and over a hundred independent regiments in the Federated Suns. Now all that protected their interests here was a stripped down staff structure, several dozen regimental-strength training commands and four divisions – two of which were on loan from the Armed Forces of the Federated Suns and the other two made up of what amounted to deserters from the Free Worlds League Military and the Lyran Commonwealth Armed Forces.
“We are all military professionals,” John continued. “We all know that sometimes we will receive orders that we do not enjoy. Nonetheless it is our duty to follow those orders to the best of our ability. The responsibilities of securing the supply lines through the Federated Suns and into the Terran Hegemony are real – there have been low intensity attacks on the facilities here and I certainly can’t rule out that Amaris could send out raiding forces to buy himself time by depriving General Kerensky of supplies.”
The faces of the officers present didn’t seem particularly sold on the idea. “It would probably help if we could say why Kerensky’s doing this,” Hanse had advised earlier. “It didn’t happen in my own history – although back then he more or less committed the entire SLDF on the frontlines rather than maintaining forces in being outside of the Hegemony.”
“In addition to securing those supply lines Second Army also holds two other roles,” John expanded. “One of those is to support training command. Some of your regiments will be called on to operate as an OpFor in training exercises for new recruits. All of you have performed well in the Hegemony campaign and you have experience to pass on.”
“And finally, units such as ours and the Corps deployed for similar roles in the Lyran Commonwealth and Rim Worlds Republic are the final strategic reserve of the SLDF. There are very few ‘soft targets’ left and I say that knowing you’re as aware as I am of just how tough nuts even so-called soft targets are.”
There was a ripple of chuckles at that.
“If anything goes wrong – and we all know how common that is in military campaigns – we may very well called upon. In that case, I expect that Second Army will be ready and prepared to fulfil whatever need arises.”
“Does that mean that the General is planning to liberate Terra next?” called a voice from further back in the room.
John considered that for a moment. “The option has been discussed at the highest level,” he said at last. “There are several worlds now in SLDF control that are within jump-range of Terra. My understanding is that before such an attack could be carried out, it’s been agreed that Amaris must be deprived of any mobile reserve that could be used to launch a counter-offensive once the SLDF is committed to operations within the solar system. So far as I’m aware, no definite decision has been made as to whether or not the SLDF should strike at Terra once that is done or if the rest of the Hegemony should be liberated first.”
He gestured to the side. “As I’ll need be on New Avalon to handle the various administrative aspects of the army command, all four divisions will be grouped under a single corps command with General Simons in command. The general will be reporting directly to me under the SLDF chain of command, not just through the AFFS chain of command so don’t worry, those of you who aren’t from this part of the Star League aren’t being co-opted.” The prince smiled. “At least, not unless you ask to be.”
That got a couple of nods. “Sir, civil affairs question?”
“Go ahead.”
The woman near the edge of the block of Lyran officers had a Skye accent. “When we signed up, there was some discussion of what might happen regarding our citizenship status. General Kerensky said that it would be dealt with, but…”
“I’ll admit I wasn’t part of that discussion, Colonel. However, you’re Star League citizens which neither the Archon nor the Captain-General has any right to alter. I will enquire of General Kerensky regarding your homeworlds. I cannot promise that you will be free to return home with any… legal questions of your enlistments settled, although I certainly feel that you should be able to. I can assure you that if any problems of that nature arise, you will be assured of acceptance within the Federated Suns and, I am sure, within the Hegemony. Beyond that we will have to see.”
She nodded. “Thank you for your honesty, general.”
“On the whole, their lords were far too desperate for trained soldiers to let a minor thing like deserting to join the SLDF stand in the way of welcoming them home,” Hanse said thoughtfully. “If you do manage to hold the Star League together though…”
.o0O0o.
SLS McKenna’s Pride, Carver V
Alliance Core, Terran Hegemony
19 October 2772
Ever screen in the flag deck of the battleship was alive with video recordings, all of them muted but rife with either activity or with pleading faces. Aleksandr Kerensky tried not to look too often at one where the speaker was a slavic woman who bore entirely too close a resemblance to a much-loved woman.
“Sir.”
He shook his head.
Janos Grec looked around the room and then gave him a stern look, every bit the professor. “Alek, there’s no more time. You must decide.”
For an admiral who had seen almost a thousand warships shattered or reduced to limping wrecks over the last two months, Grec appeared to bear little sign of the strain. Only those who knew him could see the new lines on his face. Or the shadow behind his eyes.
“Not yet. There is one more.”
The admiral shook his head. “Five armies are converging on their dropships as we speak. You know how complex the logistics are. We need a decision now – do they head for the assembly points and I ready the fleet or…” He nodded towards the screens.
“I will give you my decision shortly,” Kerensky said, finding his voice almost unrecognisable.
Grec folded his arms and opened his mouth, only to cut it off as a light appeared within the holo-display. “Commanding General?”
“Mr Blake. I hope you have good news for me.”
“I believe so, sir. I can’t promise how long we can maintain the connection though. We’re jury-rigged… quite literally from here to Addicks.”
“I will accept whatever you can provide me. Please begin as soon as you may.” The general looked over at Grec. “I have been reminded that time is short.”
“I’ll be outside,” Grec told him and made for the door.
As the door opened, the holo-display lit up. The admiral probably expected to hear Aaron DeChevilier’s clipped voice, only barely touched by the accent of Kestrel. Instead it was another almost equally familiar voice and he turned in the doorway, seeing John Davion’s head and shoulders within the display. “General.”
Kerensky met Grec’s eyes and shook his head lightly. I know Aaron’s mind in this, how could I not. I need… someone else. The door closed and then the man who had been entitled Protector of the Star League twenty years before turned to look across the light years to the man seated on New Avalon. “John.”
There was barely a flicker in the prince’s face at the shift to the personal, and even that could have been a distortion from the signal. “Aleksandr Sergeyvich.”
“I… want your counsel.”
“Then it’s yours.” The prince rubbed his face. “It’s late, sorry.”
He had to face this. “I have kept this from you, but the SLDF is preparing to return to Terra.”
John blinked and then glanced aside for a moment. “I hadn’t heard. Good for your security.”
“It does not bother you.”
“I’m familiar with operational security. With the hammering Janos has been delivering to the SDS networks in the Alliance Core, I assumed that those worlds would be next.”
“That was the intent, to divert Amaris attention.” He frowned. “We have paid a heavy price. Almost four hundred ships need repairs before they can return to service, more than five hundred are beyond economic repair.”
“Jesus. Even with NIKE?”
“We should have used more.” He saw the display wobble and realised the rigged up relays might be collapsing. “John, the people of those worlds – twelve of them - have risen up against Amaris. If we launch on Terra then…”
“Then his troops will gut the resistance.”
“Yes. But if I send troops there instead… little time to plan, we will lose troops and supplies. Lose time.” Kerensky shook his heads. “Amaris will reign on Terra longer, improve his defences. So tell me, what do you feel I should do?”
John made a sharp gesture, aimed at Kerensky or whoever was in out of view, the general couldn’t tell. “You don’t need me to tell you your duty,” the First Prince said intensely. “What is the Star Lea-” Sound cut out and his image froze. A moment later it vanished.
“I’m sorry, sir,” Blake’s voice piped up a moment later. “We lost a relay. I can try to work around but it will be an hour at least.”
“No, it was enough. Thank you, Mr Blake.” Kerensky sat back. What was the Star League? He looked around at the displays and saw the answer looking back at him. Even from that one face that sent a treacherous pang through his heart.
“Do not ask…” he said slowly, “For whom the bell tolls. It tolls for thee…”
With a deep sigh, feeling every one of his years, the general rose and walked to the door. “Janos.”
“Alek.”
He sighed. “I am calling a staff meeting but you must get your ships underway now to give orbital support to the resistance. Operation VENGEANCE is aborted.”
Grec reached out and rested one hand upon Kerensky’s shoulder. “We will make it there.”
“Yes,” he agreed. Later. So much later, as Amaris drains the homeworld dry to build more and stronger defences. But John Davion is right. My duty must come first.
-
Heavy lies the head that wears the crown...
It looks like not much time is going to be shaved off the OTL progression of tbe war, and given the state of the SLDF you posted earlier, it's a very good thing that John Davion has Hanse prepping him for the fall of the Star League
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Well they're still 7 years ahead of the OTL, and I don't see the campaign lasting more than another two even with this diversion from Terra.
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ouch... that is a hard choice, was a very hard scene to. Very well wretten, I could feel the emotions and struggles from here even.
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That was hard to do, but then again, ending the terror that is on earth is more then makes up later in saving lives. And if you can end the way much sooner then you should.
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Drak,
I just want to say thank you for sharing this with us. Second, wow just wow keeping all the story organized and the great writing, fleshing it all out a great job.
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Avalon City, New Avalon
Crucis March, Federated Suns
19 October 2772
John waited confirmation from the HPG station that Kerensky wasn’t trying to continue the brief conversation and then walked to the windows of his office and stared out over the lights of Avalon City, far below.
“You said he fought a slow and methodical campaign,” he said out loud. “And yet he was just about to storm Terra, bypassing dozens of worlds in the Hegemony. What’s changed?”
“Quite a lot’s changed.” Among the few pleasures left to Hanse was sleep and he’d been indulging in the small bedroom attached to John’s office – somewhere John’s uncle and predecessor had used when he’d been working late and didn’t want to disturb his wife by returning to their bed in the small hours of the morning - but the ghost didn’t seem perturbed by being woken in the middle of the night. “In my history Kerensky was only just beginning to fight for the Hegemony by now.”
John shuddered. “Given how much stronger Amaris’ forces are now than they were when we first entered the Hegemony, I hate to think how much worse the fighting would have been.”
“I think…” Hanse considered. “As I recall one of the reasons Kerensky gave for striking at the Republic’s own worlds first was to let his troops recover from the shock. He claimed he was afraid that they’d be so furious that they’d fight recklessly and take heavy losses in their eagerness.”
“I wouldn’t say that that was really the case with the soldiers we led – those from Second Army or Army Group Eleven later on. They were angry, but they also had months to process what had happened.”
“No, but we all view other people through our own… prejudices really.” The redhead leant forwards. “I think that the anger he was describing was his own. He’s a very controlled man, but if he felt such intense rage – and fear for his family -”
“I wish we’d found them.”
“Three names isn’t much to work with given twelve billion people on Terra,” Hanse said apologetically. “And I could be wrong about them being there in the first place. What Jaime Wolf told me about the Clan’s founder was as much a mythology as it was a history. The most I’m sure of is that they must exist.”
John rubbed his face. “How could a technological society fall so far?”
“Them? Or us?”
The First Prince gave him a sour look. “Yes.”
Hanse made a face. “Fair, I suppose. I think Kerensky needed the time himself to kill that eagerness to get to grips with Amaris. Not just to secure his supply base and reorganise, but also to bring his forces to bear with a level head.”
“And he hasn’t had that time now? He didn’t even return to the field until almost two years ago.”
“Don’t judge the man until you’ve been in his shoes, knowing your children are missing behind enemy lines, that they could be in the hands of someone who’d not hesitate to use them against you.” There was ice in Hanse’s voice.
“Personal experience?” John asked him quietly.
“The first wave of the Jade Falcon’s attacks hit Trellwan – these days it’s up on the border between the Lyrans and the Rim Worlds but in my day it was on the Lyran border with the Rasalhague Republic. Victor was there – a quiet garrison posting – an unspoken agreement with Theodore Kurita that we wouldn’t send our sons to war with each other.” The corners of Hanse’s mouth curled in a bitter smile. “Both of us almost lost our sons. It was weeks before Melissa and I knew that Victor’s commander had him dragged onto the last dropship to leave Trellwan.”
“You never said anything.”
“He made it off when thousands of others didn’t. And then I had to kill my own heart and send him back to war.”
“And Theodore Kurita’s son?” John asked, curiously.
“Captured, but freed by a Combine crime syndicate of all people!” Hanse shook his head, smile edging into the bittersweet. “I actually liked the kid. He and Victor butted heads like young bulls but when they started working together… amazing things happened. This generation’s Kurita’s are monsters but Theodore was something else.” He laughed sharply. “If he was leading the Combine I’d be tempted to have you back him as First Lord.”
“Anything but fight him again?”
“God, yes. He took the wreck we made of the DCMS in the Fourth Succession War and held us off in ’39, outnumbered two or three to one. What he could do with the army Minoru Kurita is building doesn’t bear thinking of.”
“That doesn’t bode well for our prospects if we fail then.” John shook his head. “So Kerensky’s letting his eagerness to strike for Terra get ahead of him?”
“It’s possible.”
“And the Star League Navy’s taken an unholy beating. Would he even have the ships? From what he says he’s got more ships needing repairs than all five of the member-states have in total.”
“There are almost a thousand more ships even taking into account his losses, although he’d have to strip his rear areas. On the other hand, whether he has enough ships with the revised NIKE systems - that I’m not sure of. Terra’s defences are at least three times as strong as anywhere else. By the best numbers I have, he’d be better giving it another six months or a year.”
“He’s forced to that time now,” John said. “And with ships in repair they can be fitted with jammers. But still, Terra next year would be tremendous. In your time it was ’76, we’d have cut the war by almost a third.”
“Landing on Terra is one thing,” his distant descendant reminded him. “Taking it is another. The defence Jonathon Cameron ordered built were peerless and Amaris, like any dictator, always kept his best and most loyal troops around him. Even with virtually the full weight of the SLDF fighting there on one world it took three and a half years to dig Amaris out. Nothing since… since the earliest wars of the industrial age has compared.”
“I suppose I’m eager too,” admitted the prince. “To have it over.”
“To have the war over is one thing.” Hanse rose and walked to look out over the city with John. “But that alone won’t save the Star League.”
.o0O0o.
Lieuben, Keid
Alliance Core, Terran Hegemony
24 December 2772
The gauss rifles firing from positions around the Fleet Headquarters building smashed the 225th Division’s first push on the position. Tanks and ‘Mechs could endure only a limited number of hits from the supersonic projectiles and even a single hit turned APCs into shattered and bleeding wrecks, the squads inside them gutted by shards of metal torn free from the chassis of their own transports.
“Do they have anything up there that isn’t firing gauss rifles?” Ethan asked once he’d made sure his battalion was more or less intact. Terry Farrell’s Lancelot had lost a leg and was still out there, the Mechwarrior having bailed out and taken cover behind a memorial plinth of some kind rather than be shot to pieces trying to crawl his ‘Mech to safety. Other than that they hadn’t lost anyone, which left him thirty-three ‘Mechs including his own.
“I didn’t see anything,” Moore replied. “Dug in tanks – probably Demons and Alacorns – and a couple of Galahads that I saw. Didn’t recon give any warning?”
“Recon lost something like a company between VTOL and hover tank probes in this area. They reported a strongpoint based on losses,” Ethan advised grimly. He pulled up his own BattleROM and scrolled back through the sensor recordings until he had a good visual of one of the ‘Mechs fighting back. “Looks like we’re dealing with Hegemony Patriot Battalions.”
“I hate those guys. And why would Amaris give them heavy equipment like that?”
“We’re right in the core of the Hegemony, they’ve probably been getting nothing but propaganda for the last five years. It could mean they’re true believers in Amaris’ new order.” The young major – when he’d enrolled in the SLDF the fighting in the Periphery had raised the dazzling possibility he might make captain by his mid-twenties and he’d only turned twenty-five last month – switched channels to the command net. “This is Major Moreau, my battalion’s taken some hits but we’re clear to resume the attack.”
There was a pause and then the familiar voice of Hector DiGriz, the regimental sergeant major. “Colonel Pondsmith’s cockpit took a hit, major.”
Dammit. Ethan had rather liked the regiment’s commander, replacing ‘Big Jim’ O’Ryan after the other officer had tried to run a minefield back on Lockdale. The next most senior battalion commander was Toriyama, but his battalion had been detached to a different battle group and the last of the ‘Mech battalions was under Wright, who’d only been bumped up after a sniper on Deneb Algedi caught the command group in the open. “Major Jonas?”
“Sorry sir, he’s not reported in. Best guess is his APC took a hit.”
“Shit.” The infantry commander had been a good man. That left Ethan himself and the commander of the tank battalion. Pritchard had had a few things to say about the new Major assigned in and they hadn’t been particularly flattering. Ethan didn’t know the man’s date of rank though. “Sergeant Major, get on the infantry net and find out who’s in charge and what their losses are.”
“Acknowledged, sir.”
“Major Ross.” He paused. “Major Ross?” No response. Thumbing another pre-set he switched to the armoured battalion frequency. “Major Ross, this is Major Moreau.”
“Get off this frequency, Moreau.”
“Major, we need to talk.”
“No, you need to hunker your battalion down while I get some ****** air-strikes in on those treacherous bastards. I lost a half-dozen tanks out there and I’m not sending my battalion out again. A couple of pee-wee nukes’ll shift them.”
“Respectfully, Major -”
“I told you to get off the freaking channel and do your own job, Major!” Ross half-screamed.
Ethan cut the channel without another word and signalled the other ‘Mech battalion. “Major Wright,”
“Major Moreau. I heard about the Colonel. What are your orders?”
“As far as I can tell, Major Ross is senior. He appears to want us to hold position until he can call in air-strikes.”
Wright hesitated. “I wouldn’t want to be the pilots,” he said at last. “Those gauss rifles will be just as bad for them as they were for us. Are you sure that’s what he said? I didn’t hear him on the command net.”
“I tried contacting him on his battalion net. He’s requesting nukes.”
“In the middle of the city? Is he…” Wright broke off for a moment. “Major, I don’t think divisional command will sign on that.”
“That’s pretty much my own feeling. Firstly because that’s Fleet Headquarters. There’s no knowing how much it’s been stripped and how much intelligence data could be gleaned. And secondly because it would convince the rest of the Patriot units on Keid that Amaris is right to blame us for the damage on other worlds.”
“Is he actually senior to you?”
“Probably. He seems to assume as much and it wouldn’t take much to be senior to either of us.”
“I’m not that keen on rushing them again though. I was down four ‘Mechs and we weren’t within half a kilometre.”
“Just one down myself,” Ethan admitted, “But there was a lot of armour damage – could be as much as a short regiment up there. I’d rather have a full brigade if we storm them a second time.”
“Do you have another plan?” asked Wright.
Ethan grunted and then saw a light. “Hold on, I’ve got a signal.” Another light. “Two signals.” He opened the first.
“Major,” diGriz reported. “Captain Bellamy in charge of the infantry. She wants twenty minutes to reorganise into two reinforced companies and suggests a dismounted attack if we resume action.”
“Understood, good work, Sergeant Major.” He switched to the other incoming channel. “Major Moreau.”
Marissa Miller’s voice cut was cut through with static. While other officers had seen their careers rise through the bloody war, the divisional commander was on her second climb up the ranks of seniority – she’d been a Corps XO before deploying to the periphery only to be side-lined after the Corps was disbanded. “Major, I just had an extraordinary conversation with Major Ross. What’s going on there?”
“Sir, we’re up against two, maybe three battalions of heavily dug in Hegemony Patriots with a definite bent towards gauss rifles. We’ve taken about ten percent losses as a battle group, mostly among the infantry. We can keep trying to take them down with frontal attacks but casualties will be extremely high.”
“Hmm. Ross had two requests – first for a nuclear airstrike on the enemy positions and second that you be reprimanded for poor comm discipline. What’s that last one about?”
That petty ******! “I contacted him on his battalion net after I couldn’t get a response on the command net, general.”
“I see. Very well. Both requests are denied. Moreau, I’m breveting you to Colonel putting you in charge of the battle group until we can spare reinforcements. If you can’t use Ross, relieve him. Can you isolate the enemy position?”
“Yes sir.” He thought. “I request permission to try negotiating with them.”
“You think it’ll work?”
“I don’t think it costs us anything right now.”
Miller snorted. “Fine. Just don’t offer them the world back. I don’t think General Huong would be pleased.”
.o0O0o.
The commander of the Republicans was named Hector Graham, although he insisted that his force was a regiment of the Amaris Empire Armed Forces.
“A shit by any other name,” Pritchard warned. “What sort of honest tanker takes Amaris’ coin?”
“Quite a lot of them, apparently,” Ethan told her before he left to meet the other commander under the guns of both forces.
They’d agreed to go out alone and on foot, which wasn’t an enjoyable walk. The parkland around the Fleet Headquarters was level and mostly grass but it was scarred by their brief exchanges of fire. And of course, there was the concern that someone on the other side would decide to break the truce and take a pot-shot at him. Of course, if they did then the first Ethan would know about it was when he reached the gates of heaven.
“I’m Colonel Graham.” The stocky man wore a uniform very similar to Pritchard’s except for the shark badges of his service.
“Colonel Moreau.” He didn’t offer his hand, much less salute.
Graham eyed his shoulders. “Colonel?”
“Rank pins aren’t exactly a priority for shipping compared to food, medicine… all the many things needed in a warzone.”
“Fair enough,” the other man admitted. “So what do you want to talk about? If it’s surrender, I can offer favourable terms. The Director-General’s orders are to welcome those who recognise his authority.”
Only the manners his mother drummed into him as a boy kept Ethan from spitting. “I doubt he’s had many takers. And I won’t be one of them.”
“Then what do we have to talk about? Lord Amaris is our rightfully elected Director-General and Kerensky is seeking to overthrow him by military force. That’s illegal, any way you slice it.”
“Your lord is a mass-murderer. I was on Lockdale.”
Graham shook his head. “Your general is the one who brought war to the Hegemony and I should believe wild claims that the people defending the Hegemony destroyed our own world? You’re not even from the Hegemony – don’t you think I’d recognise a League accent?”
Ethan pulled out a data chip. “This is a recording from my last ‘Mech. A BattleROM from the fighting on Lockdale. The ‘Mech itself is probably still waiting for decontamination after Amaris’ forces deployed V2 nerve agents inside a city. You’re telling me that you think the SLDF did that to its own troops?”
“We’ve all heard of how you ran amok in the Periphery and Cameron authorised atrocities to bring them back in line. You might believe your commanders if they tell you it was Amaris…”
“I do believe that. But if you don’t, how about this?” He offered a second chip.
Graham eyed it dubiously. “And this is?”
“My first view of Deneb Algedi. We were the first dropships to land – more than a week after Amaris’ garrison there withdrew. There was no fighting at all there and it’s pretty hard to fake being first in.” Ethan pushed the chip forwards. “They nuked the factories without regard for cities built on or around them. Blighted the crops…” He paused and shook his head. “Hell, they specifically demolished over a hundred bridges just to cripple the planet’s ground transport system. And we hadn’t gone within light years of the place.”
“That’s a likely story.” The AEAF offer took the chip, weighed it in his hand and passed both chips back. “Easily fabricated.”
“You’re really determined to get your men killed for that butcher?” He shook his head. “I don’t even know… wait, quick question for you. How many of the SLDF do you think have families on Terra? Or in the rest of the Hegemony?”
“I… Where are you going with this?”
“Royal Command – dozens of divisions – is recruited entirely from the Terran Hegemony. And most of Kerensky’s senior officers had their families on Terra or New Earth. How much have you heard of those people? Even in passing?” Ethan gave Graham a grim look. “Because we haven’t heard a damn thing. Not a word via HPG, nothing in the media. And on every world we liberate it’s the same: a tiny proportion come out of hiding, the ones who were smart enough to get away when the OPD rounded them up.”
“That’s impossible.”
“Think about it. If Amaris has them, why wouldn’t he put them on cameras? Have them pleading with their families to make peace. To negotiate with Amaris, testifying to his good intentions? It’s an obvious move, isn’t it?”
Graham frowned. “I suppose you have an answer.”
“Every survivor we found was at least affiliated with a resistance group. Amaris knew who would form the core of opposition to him. So after he slaughtered the Camerons, he went after the SLDF dependents. Men, women and children. Retirees. And no one has ever seen them again.” Ethan turned and started walking away, then turned his head and looked back at Graham. “Your regiment is standing between tens of thousands of fearful, angry soldiers and the only chance they have of finding their families. And those people are my comrades. I really suggest you get out of our way.”
-
SLDF Headquarters, New Earth
Alliance Core, Terran Hegemony
31 January 2773
The sprawling headquarters complex of the SLDF hadn’t been destroyed by the Rim Worlds forces, if only because they’d made their own headquarters and their final stand there. Engineering battalions were working to make good the most vital repairs but most of the efforts needed to be elsewhere.
There was no way to view the damage to New Earth in the abstract… When the resistance seized control of a town or city, the Amaris commanders had sent in troops to smash them. In the few cases where this wasn’t enough, demonstration strikes with nuclear weapons had been carried out.
A few resistance strongholds had clung on anyway, many of their combatants dying of radiation poisoning even as they tried to keep Republican regiments away from the bunkers their families hid within. The arrival of the SLDF had added to the holocaust, with an insane arsenal unleashed recklessly on both the landing zones and a succession of seemingly random targets.
Hanse had broken the reasoning to John with as much diplomacy as he could: the non-military targets were the sites of concentration camps and of factories where the workers had been effectively prisoners, forced to work as an alternative to their families facing firing squads. The governor, an Amaris appointee, had been trying to hide evidence of his crimes by incinerating them.
Cold and probably contaminated rain pattered against the towers of the Headquarters complex and John pulled a raincoat close around him despite the heating. He joined in the applause as Kerensky made yet another award for valour. With so much of the SLDF now concentrated in the inner Hegemony, the General was at last able to honour many of the men and women who had earned medals by delivering them personally. Hopefully it would be good for morale.
“There’s only one thing he has to say to send morale sky-high,” Hanse disagreed with the comment John had directed to Aaron DeChevilier. “Terra is next.” The ghost looked around in fascination. “It’s amazing to be here.”
Many of the awards were being delivered posthumously but that roll of honour had been read out over more than two hours at the start of the ceremony. Living honourees were a better note to wrap up the ceremony on and the last award was to a Colonel in the 225th BattleMech Division – inducted into the Order of the Sword not only for repeated battlefield valour but for persuading a full regiment of Hegemony natives in Amaris’ service to lay down their weapons and surrender. The man looked absurdly young for his rank, but war raised those who survived rapidly up the ranks.
Kerensky waited for Colonel Moreau to resume his seat before moving to the last point of order on the day’s agenda.
“Six years ago,” he declared, gripping the podium with both hands. “Six years ago this very day, Stefan Amaris made an announcement to the entire Inner Sphere. He announced that he had betrayed and killed the First Lord, that he had usurped power within the Terran Hegemony, and demanded that all humanity bow to his self-proclaimed imperium.”
“Six long hard years. Time enough for everyone in the Inner Sphere to learn what lay behind Amaris’ mask of amiability. And while some have refused to see… some still refuse to see… there none of those here. We know that he is a tyrant unparalleled in human history. A butcher who has caused deaths that can no longer be counted merely in the millions or even the tens of millions.” He closed his eyes a moment. “Nor even in the hundreds of millions. The sheer brutality of his regime and the utter savagery his soldiers have shown towards civilian populations is without any precedent. Not even the Huns or the Mongol hordes of old demonstrated such callousness.”
“Through all of this, you have endured. More than endured, you have excelled in the most difficult feats of arms ever asked of any army.”
Kerensky paused and looked around the room. “My fellow soldiers. I make no secret of this, for Amaris must assuredly understand this fact by now. We are going home. Terra will be freed!”
The assembly rose to their feet and applauded the statement… no, the promise. John was among them, as was Baltazar Liao, representing his mother. None of the other Great Houses had been invited to be represented.
“Inspiring words,” Baltazar murmured under his breath. “More easily said that done though.”
“He’s got a good head on his shoulders,” Hanse noted, giving the young Liao a look. “I don’t know that he’d be a better Chancellor than his mother but on some levels he might not be worse.”
John nodded slightly, seeing Baltazar took it as agreement with his words not Hanse’s – which of course he could not hear. In Hanse’s history Baltazar pre-deceased his mother, a relatively early casualty of the First Succession War – along the Capellan’s Marik border, if that mattered now. From what Hanse said it was Barbara’s as yet unborn grandchild who led the Capellan Confederation out of that war… and another unborn child who had been destined to do the same for the Federated Suns.
Had been. Those words were John’s hope. Whether you know it or not, young Baltazar, I hope you live long and reign well. Perhaps you and Joshua will be able to mend reactions between our houses.
Kerensky waited out the applause and then raised his hands. “While the operational details are naturally classified and in some cases are still being finalised, I can tell you that there will be a short period of reorganisation and preparation. Many of you will receive fresh orders shortly, although wherever possible you will continue to fight alongside the men and women that you already know and have fought beside in the past. Until the time comes, let us all remain vigilant.”
With the formal ceremonies over, the guests and the honourees were ushered through into a second hall where food and drink awaited them. Perhaps not quite the elaborate canapés and fine wines that had once been staples of SLDF hospitality, but a step towards that old standard.
John lingered in the main hall, withdrawing into one of the tall window nooks in full confidence that few would presume to intrude upon him. Before he could ask Hanse for his thoughts though, two of the exceptions entered the same nook. “General Kerensky, Lord Liao.”
“Prince Davion.” The young Liao bowed to a polite degree. “Or, your pardon, should I call you Marshal Davion here…? We are among soldiers after all.”
Kerensky shook his head slightly. “The Duke of St Ives has raised a question that I think may have crossed your mind, John.” He gave the First Prince a serious look. “One that I would speak clearly on.”
“We appear to be alone,” John said. Just the four of them – three to their eyes. “Let us set aside rank and be forthright with each other, if that suits you Baltazar.”
“By all means.” The Liao pressed his hands together for a moment. “The question that I must ask is this: what happens when Amaris is defeated. House Cameron may be no more, so who will lead the Star League?”
“Or the Terran Hegemony, for that matter?” John asked. “There are some mechanisms, of course, but they’re rather abused.”
“Baltazar makes the point… cogently, I must confess, that a new Director-General is not guaranteed the position of First Star Lord. That was conferred specifically upon House Cameron and if they are indeed extinct…” Kerensky looked uncomfortable at the idea.
“Then I suppose we would either need to make other arrangements or appoint a new First Lord,” John agreed. “The point may be moot of course – House Cameron has many branches and some of which don’t even share the name. Even excluding those such as the Cameron-Davions which are specifically barred from the succession, at least normally, there could very well be other survivors.”
“Intriguing that you say they would be normally excluded,” Baltazar noted darkly.
“The Star League Council would be empowered to overturn that, although I concede it’s an unlikely option and hopefully unnecessary.”
Kerensky looked at John and then turned back to Baltazar. “You also asked me if I intended to take the position.”
“And you have not answered me.”
“A soldier’s place is to serve, not to lead.”
John frowned. “Being First Lord would be a thankless task, one of herculean demands. I’d only accept it myself as a last resort but there are certainly arguments in your favour, Aleksandr.”
Baltazar blinked. “You would not seek the position? Some might claim that you have earned it, Prince Davion, and put your name forward.”
“If elected I would serve, but the only reward I’d like is for your mother and the other Lords to start acting as if the Star League was worth their time and energy,” John snapped bitterly. “Look out there, go out and see what war has done here. Without the Star League, every world along our borders could look the same.”
“I was a poor regent,” Kerensky said softly as the eyes of those in the hall began to turn towards them. “I would not be a good choice as First Lord.”
“The First Lord’s leadership was based on three factors.” John lowered his voice. “Firstly, the support of the SLDF. Secondly, the widespread respect the public felt for them. Thirdly, the economic and scientific might of the Hegemony. Two of those you have and were you to become Director-General then the third could also support you.”
Baltazar shook his head. “Would the Star League Council support such a notion? Even so far as accepting General Kerensky as Director-General?”
“The Star League Council, to a large extent, watched Amaris seize power in the Hegemony and did nothing. Even when your mother sent soldiers it was less for the sake of the people being oppressed or to oppose Amaris than it was out of concern that I might become too influential.” John shook his head. “What would make them do differently this time?”
“Ah…” The young Liao shook his head. “I see your reasoning gentlemen. If House Cameron survives then it would certainly simplify matters. However, may I inform the Chancellor that should House Cameron be unable to continue as Director-General that neither of you is strongly inclined to claim the position of the First Lord.”
John and Kerensky nodded. “In any case,” the General added. “I have no heirs. Important in a First Lord.”
“Quite so.” Baltazar bowed deeply. “Then if you will permit, I will join the reception before I further anger John.”
The two older men returned his bows and watched as he made his way through to the other hall. Then they looked at each other and both looked away sharply.
“This is worse than a comedy act,” Hanse told John. “If the two of you can’t talk.”
John shook his head. “I think he bought that last statement,” he said flatly.
“What?” Kerensky gave him a sharp look.
“The Kerensky family isn’t large but you do have a family, Aleksandr. And…”
“What do you know?” The question was a flat one.
“Your security is excellent, but unless I’m mistaken, you married sometime before Richard’s majority and probably have a child. Where they might be…” John shrugged. “The information’s too sensitive to dig too deeply so I told the Ministry not to go looking in case we exposed them to Amaris.”
“Two sons,” Kerensky said after a moment. “The younger I have never seen. Andery was born after I left for the Periphery.”
John nodded sympathetically. “No one needs to know that.”
“I want better for them. And being dragged into the politics of the Star League is… terrible for children.”
“I can’t argue with that. Even without Amaris.”
Kerensky nodded. “Your own reputation is good, John. Were you elected, the SLDF would support you. And I believe many outside of the Suns respect your decision to support our efforts.”
“It would be better that some outcomes, but the Director-General – whoever it was – would remain very powerful once the Hegemony recovers.”
“Your own realm comes closer than any other,” the general said. “That’s why I sent your people away. Perhaps it was a mistake on my part, but I know you’ve been using your access to strength your realm.”
“I don’t deny it.”
“Due payment I suppose. It might make you a better choice as First Lord… but not a better man.”
“I’d settle for any of the others – or even an agreement not to have a First Lord – over an extended contest for the office. We can survive a poor First Lord or a vacancy there. I’m not sure the Star League could survive if we begin to fight for the office.”
.o0O0o.
SLS Richard Cameron, Terran Star System
Alliance Core, Terran Hegemony
24 March 2773
Given that Caspar Drones were smart enough to identify and target ships with NIKE-jamming systems, Kerensky had ordered that in future no admiral was to use such a warship as a flagship. As a result, Janos Grec had shifted his flag to one of the tiny number of Farragut-class battleships available. Almost all of them had been decommissioned well before the Star League, more due to their immense operating costs than any failing of their actual systems.
Officially, the class were supposed to be in mothballed and in fact the First Lord had authorised scrapping them for the germanium and other valuable materials shortly before his death. How many had actually been disposed of was uncertain but given the SLS Richard Cameron (named for the seventh Director-General of the Terran Hegemony, the man who’d originally ordered the Farragut-class, not for his eleven generations removed descendant of the same name) had been found being re-commissioned in docks at the Delhi Shipyards over Carver IV, it was evident some had not been.
That half of the Delhi docks had been torn to shreds but the fact that the battleship had survived the damage endeared her to Grec and he’d arranged priority in one of the remaining slips to finish the fitting out and claim her as his flagship for the newly reorganised First Fleet.
“The first wave ships confirm the defence stations were taken out,” came the report as systems stabilised after the jump.
“Acknowledged,” he confirmed. “Watch for mobile defenders.”
The first wave of manned ships had jumped in just outside the expected range of weapons fire from the M-9 SDS stations on the outskirts Saturn’s planet system, with each wave arriving a few thousand kilometres further away. But before any true warships had arrived – a full day before in fact - four Leviathan-class jumpships had been sent in, each carrying eight captured M-3 drones packed with explosives. The fragile jumpships hadn’t stood a chance but they only had to survive long enough for the drones to detach. It had also only been a matter of time before the M-3s to be destroyed or even to be subverted by the command stations.
But none of the drones themselves had to exist longer than it took to reach the stations that orbited between Saturn and the edge of the proximity limit and at maximum acceleration that wasn’t a long flight. The loss of the stations made it clear that at least three of the M-3 drones had managed that. Good enough.
The vast majority of jumpships were assembled near jump points. Particularly in the modern day when jumpships needed tows to travel any significant distance across a star system it simply made economic sense. Saturn’s largest moon, Titan, was nowhere near the Zenith or Nadir jump point but it was only necessary to travel around eighty million kilometres beyond Saturn’s orbit before Sol’s gravitational influence was so weak that it was possible to use a Kearney-Fuchida drive.
In the first days of star travel, before the use of jump points well above the orbital plane of a star system became standard, that was perfectly acceptable. Titan wasn’t where the first jumpships had been made, but the sprawling yards there had been where the vast majority of the Terran Alliance’s colonial fleet was assembled. Even now it was a major civilian yard – and under the control of Amaris’ fleet.
Around Grec’s flagship was surrounded by almost four hundred warships, a force vastly larger than any pre-war fleet and they almost certainly outnumbered the entire remaining Republican fleet.
“All waves have made contact. Two ships haven’t arrived. The fleet’s expected to be in formation within three minutes.”
“Excellent. We proceed on schedule.”
Grec’s eyes were fixed on the tactical display. The only force Amaris could use against him was the Caspar drones and their escorts – and the chance to engage a portion, however potent, of the Star League Navy and achieve defeat in detail should hopefully be irresistible.
On the other hand, if Amaris didn’t object to the SLDF seizing control a major shipyard inside the solar system, neither Grec nor Kerensky would have any complaints.
-
You know, when I first saw the title of this story, I'd thought the "(Deceased)" was a reference to the story being abandoned. I'm glad to find I was wrong.
-
SLS Richard Cameron, Terran Star System
Alliance Core, Terran Hegemony
26 March 2773
It was almost forty hours before the first confirmed reaction took place to their arrival.
In that time there had not been a single sighting of a hostile vessel. No warships, no drones. Given the destruction of the stations it seemed impossible that anyone wouldn’t have guessed that Titan was an objective. Certainly it could have been nothing but a diversion, however the yards were too valuable not to honour that threat, surely?
Possibly there had been no significant force of drones around the yards and reinforcements were on the way. Or perhaps the defences were concentrated closer to the yards.
By the time explosions were detected within the yards themselves, First Fleet was approaching Saturn with their engines directed towards the ringed planet, working to bleed off the speed built up in their approach. Even at only the normal acceleration of 9.8 mps-squared, the fleet had reached a velocity of over nine hundred kilometres a second before turnover took place. On a planetary scale such speeds would be extraordinary, but for spacecraft such was more or less normal – if anything the two day transit involved far lower velocities than a run deep into the system to Terra would lead to. Of course, such speeds were impractical for anything but travel.
“Self-destruct charges, I assume,” Grec noted.
“Yes, although only on secondary facilities,” Admiral Shockley concurred from the flag bridge of SLS Uluru. The hard-drinking admiral had commanded Fifteenth Fleet until the reorganisation abolished that formation and he’d been highly recommended as Grec’s second in command. “If they’ve given up on keeping us from securing the yards, I’d expect them to blow the whole lot up. Blowing up a few could mean they’re luring us in.”
“It could be that.” They exchanged a knowing look but said nothing of another possibility. Security was paramount, after all. “But we’re here to spring traps, not avoid them. We’ve had plenty of time to rest our crews on the way in, make all ships ready for battle. Reuben James and Battleaxe will regret those drive seals that kept them from joining us.”
An HPG message from the staging area had confirmed that the two warships’ absence was the result of last minute drive problems that hadn’t been detected until they’d tried to jump into the solar system. The captains must be livid, but with yard maintenance well below recommended frequency for all ships in the SLN, such malfunctions were far from unknown – thus the importance of securing a facility such as Titan’s yards.
As the fleet approached Titan there were no further explosions. The bright lights that appeared in front of the fleet were drive plumes as two squadrons of M-3 drones fired their engines to slow their converging approach.
“They’ve miscalculated,” Shockley said in surprise. “They’re slowing so fast they won’t enter their own weapon’s range of our ships – it’s as if they’re trying to race back to Titan before us.”
Grec nodded. “That must be exactly what they are doing. I imagine that their orders have been changed – at first to come as close to First Fleet as possible without detection before making a high-speed attack, conceivably ramming us at high speed as we continue to decelerate.”
“Suicide, but with drones why not…”
“Yes. But now they have been instructed to return to the yards and the only conceivable reason for that is to destroy the facilities before we arrive. Which can only mean -”
“That our own forlorn hope has succeeded.” Three days ago, along with thirty-six suicide drones the jumpships had carried twenty-four shuttles loaded with fleet marines. The hope had been that the drones and their destruction of the space-stations would mask a brief period of high acceleration by the shuttles, letting them approach the shipyard and enter Titan’s orbit without detection.
Slowing by skipping off the moon’s atmosphere, the marines would have tried to board the sprawling dockyards and disable the self-destruct charges. All signs were that they had succeeded… but the twelve M-3 drones would be more than enough to do crippling damage with their own armament.
Stockley straightened. “I request permission to detach a fast division to destroy the drones?”
“Granted,” Grec agreed and the two watched as six Vincent-class corvettes turned over and ceased deceleration. As First Fleet and the M-3s slowed the corvettes surged ahead, their speed constant and their courses evasive. The capital missiles from their bow tubes had tremendous range and only added the relative velocity of the corvettes to their kinetic striking power – even without nuclear warheads, those missiles that hit struck with devastating power.
As the corvettes flashed past the M-3s, they’d already wrecked seven of them and now they rolled over once more and began to slow themselves once more, firing naval autocannon into the path of the drones. Left with little choice the drones sought to ram, but found that all the corvettes had to do was cease to decelerate and they easily lunged onwards out of reach. It would take too long for the M-3s to build up enough speed again to catch up.
By the time First Fleet swept past them, all twelve drones had been destroyed and communication had been established with the surviving marines.
No one was interested by then though.
Beyond Titan, the unmistakeable engine flares of entire fleets of drones had been sighted. Days away, but certain to arrive before any ships save those with Lithium-Fusion batteries were ready to jump away. No less than three formations, each at least as large as any previously encountered SDS force of drones.
“Clearly Amaris knows there’s nothing to be gained by holding back,” Grec said coldly. “That must be almost every M-5 and M-3 in the solar system. If he smashes us then he can throw whatever remains at the invasion fleets once they arrive. But if we smash them then the gates are open for Kerensky.”
.o0O0o.
SLS McKenna’s Pride, Zenith Jump Point
Terra, Terran Hegemony
3 April 2773
On the screen, Grec’s face was practically grey. The transmission had had to use archaic 2-D video recording for the holo cameras on the flag bridge of the Richard Cameron had been damaged in the battle but Kerensky didn’t think the format was responsible for the colour of his friend’s face.
“I’m still not sure if they figured out a counter or if the drones here were different somehow,” the admiral reported, voice hollow. “Without the jamming, their coordination let them tear into our formation, using M-3 drones almost like chaff. We’ll probably never know how many drones there were in total, the wreckage is spread practically all the way from Titan to Saturn.”
“Don’t worry about that. Your count is more than enough to let us know that there can’t be any significant number of Caspars left. M-3s perhaps, but they’re more manageable.”
“The yards took damage, I don't know how bad. We had to abandon them and the drones hammered them in passing as they chased us towards the rings.”
Kerensky shook his head. “Yards can be repaired. What matters is that your fleet survived. You’re alive, and you cleared the path for us. That’s all I ever asked of you, Janos.”
“I have barely fifty ships that can move! Admiral Stockley and every ship – every single spacer – that joined me from Fifteenth Fleet is gone.”
“Janos!” Kerensky raised his voice. “You’re in shock,” he told the man.
A light-speed message would have taken several minutes to pass back and forth, but the Richard Cameron’s HPG system was still intact and the general had devoted that of the McKenna’s Pride so that they could speak without that frustration added to everything else.
“I was responsible,” his old friend said simply.
“Admiral Grec, I am ordering you to request a sedative and take twelve hours rest. Then report back to me.” Kerensky waited for that to sink in and then softened his tone. “We always knew the price would be high, even with NIKE. No one was aboard those ships that didn’t choose to follow us, any more than those aboard with myself or with Aaron.”
Grec looked at him dully. “Alright. I’ll… do that. The captains… They’ll need…”
“You can trust them to do their jobs. To look after their crews and their ships. Let them take it from here.”
The admiral saluted. “Yes sir.” His image winked out.
Kerensky rubbed his face and looked at the temptation of the drinks cabinet. He’d have prescribed the same for Janos but it probably wouldn’t be enough. “Comms, get me the Richard Cameron’s captain.” Five minutes later he’d arranged a discreet suicide watch for his old friend. The man’s wife and two daughters had lived on Keid and despite searching, no one so far had been able to turn up any information on their whereabouts. At some point in the occupation by Amaris’ forces, all three women had disappeared. Perhaps into hiding or perhaps… Kerensky was both a historian and a Russian, he’d heard the word gulag before.
When he contacted Aaron DeChevilier he saw the same dread hidden behind the Kestrel-born general. We are all broken men, he thought. “The best estimation is that over nine hundred Caspar drones have been destroyed. We cannot lower our guard entirely but I believe the bulk of the mobile defences within the solar system have been defeated. As such, the Venus and Mars landings can be carried out.”
“There will be some sort of reserve, most likely over Terra,” the other general reminded him. “And then there will be fighters – Grec’s fleet didn’t see many so they’re likely in reserve at the planets.”
“That is true. It is too late to ask John Davion for his carriers again though.”
“I shall have to mark you down for lack of foresight,” DeChevilier said officiously, as if he was a professor at one of the academies. Then he laughed ruefully. “Sometimes we want the man’s help and sometimes we don’t dare take it. What a pair we must seem to be in his eyes.”
“No.” Kerensky ran his head back over his head. “No, I think he understands. One of the few sane ones, I think. Or perhaps we are all mad. If so, we are in good company.”
“In a war like this, madness is the only sane reaction.”
“Now you sound like a Russian. That is my job.”
DeChevilier nodded. “Now we’re even. You’re sure you don’t want to drop on Europe first? Or North America? We could decapitate Amaris’ structure and perhaps the man himself in the first landings.”
“No. Unity City and Geneva will be the most strongly defended sites and the landings will be bloody enough. Similarly, Africa and South America are too easily isolated from the other continents by the choke points at Suez and Panama.”
“Alek, North America’s going to be a bastard to invade anyway we do it. The Bering Strait Tunnels are probably impossible to take – certainly worse than Panama. That means we’ll either need to do another round of drops or launch a trans-Atlantic invasion – and there’s nothing approaching the sort of amphibious transportation we’d need for that.”
“We must land as a concentrated strike, we cannot spread out around the globe,” Kerensky answered him. “Somewhere must be first and the surface to orbit weapons in North America and Europe are the strongest. If we need new transports to cross an ocean then the shipyards of Asia are our best chance in any case.”
“We’ll certainly be liberating more people more quickly,” his deputy conceded. “But it also means they’re at greater risk if Amaris orders the same tactics he’s had carried out on other worlds. If they target cities like Bangkok or Beijing, we could be losing the populations of entire planets in moments.”
“I am certain that he will attempt it,” the Commanding General agreed. “He is more than desperate enough. But he can do that anyway and we have no way of knowing he is indeed at Unity City – if we liberate the Court of the Star League and the Hegemony capital at Geneva only to have him launch attacks from somewhere else then we are no better off. At least if we are across the Pacific from his bases in the western hemisphere we will have a reasonable chance of intercepting long range ballistic weapons targeting East Asia. Shorter range weapons can only be removed by clearing out the ground forces.”
“Best of a bad lot, then?”
“Yes, that is very much my thinking.”
.o0O0o.
Avalon City, New Avalon
Crucis March, Federated Suns
27 May 2773
“That’s a bit worrying,” John admitted as Francesca Reznick finished recounting the data her operatives had gathered from the Confederation’s shipyards over Capella. “Individually, older Vincent and Essex-class ships don’t seem terribly threatening, but the Chancellor seems to want a very large navy.”
“Frankly, sire, both the Draconis Combine Admiralty and the Capellan Confederation are going to have a noticeable advantage over us in ship numbers by the end of the decade,” Admiral Moore noted thoughtfully. “With the losses in the Hegemony we’ll barely have more warships by then than we had before the Coup – seventy or so ships when they’re likely to each be fielding more than eighty, possibly quite a lot more than eighty. Admittedly not all their ships are very impressive, but…”
“But quantity has a quality all of its own. Yes, I’m familiar with the saying. On the other hand…” he trailed off for a moment and then nodded. “We may have a more sustainable expansion programme. One of the bottlenecks we were looking at in our construction programme is gallium and the new mines on Tortuga have largely opened that up for us. The other states don’t have that so they’re mostly relying on strategic stockpiles except for the Lyrans, who have the best mines for it in the Inner Sphere – and for obvious reasons they’re not selling it.”
Moore hesitated and then nodded. “It could be. We certainly aren’t expecting any issues in that regard at current construction rates through to the end of the century.”
“Francesca, have some of your people look into that please, and cross-check with the Navy. I’d really like to know how long the other states can keep expanding their navies. We could have a long term advantage there and it would be good to know.”
The Minister of Information made a note. “A long term advantage is all very well, but short term disadvantages can negate them.”
“It’s all going to hang on the carriers,” Moore admitted. “And the fighters flying from them. By the end of this year we’ll have fourteen New Syrtis-class carriers and have finished fitting out the Joan Brandt. That’s a lot of capital ships and if they can keep the ranges open, then in theory they should be able to do murderous things to hostile fleets. But it all hangs on that.”
“Is this another plea for battleships?”
“Maybe not battleships, but the Defender-class ships really aren’t viable at this point; which means that if we do get into a capital ship fight we’ve nothing to work with.”
Hanse leant over. “To be fair, we do have our eggs in one basket with this. Design studies aren’t expensive so…”
“I suppose we can at least look at options, Rike,” John conceded. “You can look into affordable options for replacing the Defender-class ships but that does mean replacing. If you’re arguing that they’re not fit for service then we’ll be looking at scrapping them not operating them aside whatever you propose. And I’m not promising anything until I see some options.”
“Multiple options, I do remember,” Moore promised. “Just off the cuff, we’ll be laying down three new carriers this year and we’d need those slips for any new battlecruisers so I’d be looking at laying something down in ’76 at earliest.”
“That’s acceptable as a timescale,” agreed John. “No super-dreadnoughts, though. We’re going to have enough joy keeping the two Brandt-class ships maintained, I don’t expect we could build anything that large on a practical budget.”
“Moving onto other matters.” Reznick cleared the naval data from the displays. “There’s been a new development in the Rim Worlds Republic.”
“Please don’t tell me they’re collapsing into civil war.” Lucien Dormax was still trying to coax the various Rim Republic Army factions to align themselves with his provisional government, to say nothing of the various worlds that still had governments who were broadly loyal to House Amaris, if not to the Usurper himself.
The Minister shook her head. “No, although whether it could lead that way is very much in the air. It seems Robert Steiner decided to intervene.”
“I’m fairly sure General Kerensky told him that any dreams he had of annexing the Republic were just that: dreams.”
“Military annexation, yes. So instead he’s invaded with diplomats. A rather large number of planetary governments have been in receipt of offers of special trade status to make good damage done when Kerensky invaded. Under the table, the Archon’s been offering further inducements to them if they were to secede from the Republic and apply for membership in the Commonwealth.”
“Could they do that?” asked Moore in surprise. “Isn’t that rebellion?”
“What’s Dormax going to do about that? He’s got virtually no armed forces,” Michael Stopec growled. “Throw the SLDF at them? That’ll destabilize things further.”
“Perhaps fortunately, the Archon overplayed his hand a little and put on a display of moving regiments around on the border as a demonstration of the security he can offer to those worlds,” Reznick advised. “In response General Helmick moved two divisions of the SLDF into the region Archon Steiner was showboating for – it’s going to slightly impact supply lines with the jumpships he had to redeploy. But with SLDF divisions turning up almost overnight on both sides of the border, it’s hopefully convince everyone to calm down.”
“Unless they calm up. Helmick only has six divisions in the Republic. Even if he pulled the rest of Eleventh Army out of the Lyran Commonwealth, he couldn’t possibly hold it together by force.” John shook his head. “Not that there’s anything that could be done from here.”
“Of course there is,” Hanse said. He leant over and outlined his suggestion.
The rest of the High Command watched the First Prince as he leant back in his chair and then started smiling broadly. “I don’t think Robert Steiner is ever going to be fond of me, but he’s really earned this.”
“What are you talking about?” asked Stopec.
John began typing on his console. “I’m just putting together a private message to him. Just an off-the-cuff query. Since he’s so interested the self-determination of dissident worlds of the Rim Worlds Republic… would he mind terribly if I invited worlds of the Commonwealth unhappy that he’s not supporting General Kerensky to join the Federated Suns?”
Reznick blinked. “I’m not sure the Archon’s blood pressure will benefit from that message, sire.”
“I’m not going to seriously do it, but it might at least convince him to stop fishing for trouble in foreign nations. The man’s got enough troubles at home.”
“Well that’s true. There are still public demonstrations blaming him for the Lyran volunteers being sent to the Suns.”
John nodded. “And if he doesn’t back down I’ll appeal to Kerensky. Sending the volunteers to Terra should inflame that sentiment.”
“That’s a terrible thing to do to him,” Moore said with a wicked smile.
“I’ll be sure to mention it at confession.”
Reznick cleared her throat. “About that, sire.”
All humour fled as John gave her a worried look. “Please tell me Kinsey de Medici hasn’t said anything public again?” The Cardinal Archbishop of New Avalon had received a garbled message from Terra three years before, conferring emergency authority on him due to an unspecified emergency at the Vatican. Hanse’s data suggested that the Pope and the College of Cardinals had almost certainly been detained by some of Amaris’ more savage mercenaries. It had taken a great deal of diplomacy to convince him that he’d almost certainly been sent the same instructions received by the senior Cardinals in the other four Member-States and not been placed in authority over the entire Roman Catholic Church pending resolution of the crisis.
“Not yet, sire. Unfortunately we have had confirmation that Pope Clement and at least a majority of the College of Cardinals are dead, so it’s only a matter of time.”
“God rest their souls,” John said stiffly. Dammit, Hanse, whatever you say I am not endorsing him just to make the Church a political tool in strengthening the Federated Suns.
.o0O0o.
Lake Semmes, Kirklin
Crucis March, Federated Suns
5 July 2773
The tanks on the demonstration ground looked very much like the Merkavas that had been the backbone of the Hegemony Armed Forces prior to the development of the BattleMech – broad and low-slung with a LRM launcher above the main gun, a SRM launcher and machine gun to one side and a second minigun in the frontal glacis.
The main difference was that when the main gun fired, instead of shredding targets with high explosive shells, a lightning-like particle beam incinerated them.
“The SLDF declined to purchase them,” Count Johnston explained in a disgusted voice. “Apparently the fact the basic design’s three hundred years meant we were trying to shuffle ‘obsolescent junk’ off on them.”
“As opposed to a proven design with three hundred years of excellence,” agreed Susan Sandoval. “Then again, he might have been a Mechwarrior. I’ve noticed some of my professional peers think anything that lacks two legs is beneath their notice – and they’re not entirely convinced about infantry.”
Countess Johnston covered her mouth as she laughed. “Oh Colonel, you certainly have opinions.”
“And that’s probably why I won’t make brigadier general any time soon, Countess Johnston. Not that I mind, being a colonel is much more fun.”
“Please call me Peregrine,” the countess told her. “Do you feel differently about tanks?”
“They’re very useful in the field. As far as I’m concerned, unless they start self-immolating out there, the Merkava Particle Cannon is something the AFFS should be looking at.”
“Mark VIII (P),” Count Johnston corrected mildly. “Proper nomenclature is important.”
“Whatever you say, dear,” Peregrine told him absently. “So, Colonel, I hope that the assignment of your regiment here doesn’t mean we’re considered to be a likely target for Amaris to launch a counter-strike at.”
“If I’m to call you Peregrine, then please call me Susan,” she said with a smile of her own. “I think Amaris has other things on his mind right now than striking at Federated Suns worlds.”
The SLDF had paid a steep price for landing troops on Terra – even with warships descending into the upper limits of the atmosphere to provide fire support, entire divisions had died aboard their dropships to fire from the Castles Brian and hundreds of other bases, some of them newly carved out of the mountains of Central Asia, Indonesia and Australia. Even at that price though, footholds had been secured and as more bases fell, Kerensky and DeChevilier poured more troops down into the gaps in coverage.
Northern India, eastern China and western Australia had been secured after a week of fighting and from what Susan had heard, the two Army Groups were spreading out to consolidate their positions and reorganise from the scrambling of forces that had resulted from landing zones being reassigned on the fly. The only Castle Brian in the region that hadn’t fallen was White Cliffs and that was mostly due to the logistical challenges of shipping sufficient forces to New Zealand’s North Island to dig out whatever remained after bombardment had smashed craters thirty metres deep over every known weapon emplacement and entrance to the facility.
“No,” she continued. “I think it’s just a general rotation of units. With your factories here, the garrison requirement has been upgraded so it’s likely an AFFS formation of some kind will be stationed on Kirklin for a while. Possibly just part of the March Militia if there’s a crisis, but it’s possible the raiding we saw in the 2740s and 50s could pick up again with the SLDF focused on Terra.”
“That would be unfortunate,” the countess agreed. “And of course, the AFFS is sending troops back into the Hegemony now.”
“Less of a regular deployment and more an emergency request for Air Defense units,” Susan explained. “We don’t have Air Defense battalions in the same way as the SLDF but there’s a requirement for everything they can scrape together along those lines so a lot of AFFS units are sending small detachments to help provide defence around the cities that have been liberated and the volunteer regiments stationed here are re-equipping to do the same.”
“I thought as much. Kallon Industries rushed their site on Minette into service – paid top dollar to pull contractors in from across the region. I’m surprised that General Motors aren’t doing the same.”
Susan blinked. “I didn’t think General Motors built any air-defence units.”
“Are you sure? I could have sworn those Pollux tanks the SLDF used them.”
“Oh. No, I don’t think so…” Susan frowned. “They might be sub-contractors, perhaps? I’m fairly sure I recall some of the SLDF officers complaining that with Pollux occupied they wouldn’t be seeing replacement units.”
“Perhaps we should look into that,” Peregrine suggested. “After all, with so many air defence units being sent to Terra, there will be demand for replacement.”
The count shook his head – in thought, not denial. “It’s a specialist market,” he noted. “Still, we lost that helicopter bid to our guest’s father so perhaps we shouldn’t put her in a difficult position.”
“My father and I don’t talk about his business dealings,” Susan demurred. Or anything much since I was last on Robinson. “But I won’t be offended if you’d rather talk privately.”
“Do forgive my husband,” Peregrine requested, putting one hand on Susan’s forearm. “We were in competition with Jerricho Industries to license the design for their Vector helicopter from General Motors – it’s such a small world in the military production field.”
Susan nodded. “I understand the scale of the contracts. The SLDF uses them in so many roles and losses have been quite terrible, because of course the worlds liberated already have air defence networks but they’re in the wrong hands.”
Count Johnston had called over an aide and received a noteputer. “Aha!” he said positively. “General Motors built the chassis for the Pollux on Outreach. The same place they made the Vector, in fact. But they shipped them to Pollux for final assembly by Hadley, who make the weapon systems and turrets, which seems to be…” He did some quick calculations. “Well, more than half the tank from the looks of it.”
“I suppose I mostly think of GM as making ‘Mechs, given the Kathil site,” Susan admitted.
“They have a factory on Salem – churns out Armoured Personnel Carriers like no one else’s business,” the Count said cheerfully. “Cobb was spitting feathers when the AFFS stopped buying them in favour of our Chasseurs, your father’s Cazadors and Corean’s new Kynigos. I don’t know why – the SLDF hasn’t stopped buying APCs.”
Peregrine smiled and Susan was reminded of a deep-sea predator from Earth – the same beast that marked the banners of the Rim Worlds Republic. “So GM is flush with money from the Vector prototype and almost certainly has the plans for the chassis of the Pollux. Now if someone were to start looking at an alternate turret assembly…”
“And we do have a design team who’ve just wrapped up work on the Merkava,” her husband agreed.
Susan felt a chill at the reminder that her hosts were, among other things, the Federated Suns’ most famous corporate predators. “I can see how you two made your fortunes.”
“Pfft. I inherited my money,” the count said.
“And I married mine,” Peregrine added. “This isn’t money. This is fun, the greatest game there is.”
“Not politics?”
“Politics…” The two Johnston’s sighed and shook their heads. “At this level, my dear,” the Countess explained, “There’s no difference. It’s why we admire the First Prince so much. He’s one of the best players in the game.” She shivered in excitement.
“He’s married, dear.”
“So am I, but I can still dance with him!”
-
Reuben James and Battleaxe
I see what you did there. :)
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I see what you did there. :)
Now that you mention it, I recognize the reference.
Well, there´s nothing like an author well-versed in the classic of the genre. :D
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Red Storm Rising.................Tom Clancy
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Red Storm Rising.................Tom Clancy
he needs to bring in the A10 squadron too
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he needs to bring in the A10 squadron too
Well the MechBuster is probably an attempt to build the A-10 in BT. Although in later eras an RAC/5 would be an even better fit than an AC/20.
-
SLDF Headquarters, New Earth
Alliance Core, Terran Hegemony
23 November 2773
There were times when Phillip Drummond regretted letting Kerensky know he’d been involved in an attempt on Amaris’ life. If it wasn’t for that he could probably have found his way into a line regiment and been on Terra right now.
Instead he was here in what passed for SLDF Headquarters – if with increasing levels of verisimilitude – trying to make bricks out of straw. Combat officers had similar challenges but at least they got to shoot people occasionally. It must do wonders for their stress levels.
Administrative functions were actually unpacking with some degree of efficiency, contrary to every expectation he’d had. Detachments once spread across a dozen bases and several moving ships were settling into offices as fast as the buildings could be certified by engineers, swept by a punishment detail, and network computers.
The latter had their own section of the intelligence command building and were possibly the most overburdened since many of the computers hadn’t even been created to specification or manufactured under secure conditions. In fact, many of them were only borderline compatible which didn’t make checking for mole programmes even slightly easier as far as Phillip understood. The personnel there were pale, hollow-eyed and seemed to live on coffee and energy drinks.
Miracles were being accomplished though. He’d even received a formal accounting of the pay he was due since being field commissioned into the SLDF, along with what seemed to be a reasonably accurate listing of the disbursements he’d received from Administrative Command over the years. Granted, they wanted an accounting of what parts had been for work-related expenses and which had been personal expenditure, but it was… normal.
“I miss the days when it was just Davion military intelligence and their Ministry of Information sneaking information out of the Hegemony,” he said aloud.
Apfelbucher laughed. “Weren’t you saying that everything was getting back to normal?” she asked.
“This was normal back then?”
“The amount of attention, yes. The amount of leeway we’re going to have to give them, not so much.” The head of SLDF intelligence had been fortunate enough to be in transit on the day of the Coup. She’d remained in the Hegemony itself, organising a network of spy ships out of concealed recharge and repair stations until Kerensky’s personal return to the Hegemony. “Hopefully we can at least keep them away from the most sensitive sites. We do have Hegemony worlds getting back on their feet and they can provide some of the relief workers and security.”
“That assumes that they haven’t been compromised as well.”
Apfelbucher shrugged helplessly. “At least they can be prosecuted. We literally can’t afford to turn away the foreign aid right now.”
Kerensky’s return to Terra itself seemed to have persuaded Barbara Liao, Robert Steiner and even Kenyon Marik to turn loose civilian relief volunteers for the damaged worlds, along with millions of tons of food, construction materials and other essentials for bringing the Hegemony back into some semblance of functionality. With the SLDF still needing similar quantities of munitions, armour and spare parts from the Federated Suns and the Rim Worlds Republic – and to a lesser extent the Capellan Confederation – there was no way to buy those goods so the donations were invaluable.
Unfortunately they came at an unspoken price: to ensure the safety of the workers on worlds where law and order was at best shaky and which could still be targeted by raids from the kernel of worlds that still flew the banner of Amaris Empire, hemmed in along the Capellan and Free Worlds borders, the House Lords had also sent detachments of light infantry, military police and (more useful but from an intelligence perspective, far more dangerous) military engineers.
“To all practical purposes those worlds will be jointly administered for the near future,” Phillip warned. “And the worlds that were jointly administered aren’t going to be letting the Hegemony back in. It’s a creeping conquest.” And at least one in twenty of the relief workers would be representing one of the intelligence agencies of the three Houses sending them. Data wasn’t going to leak, it was going to flow.
“You’re not wrong, but at some point we have to be realistic and work with what’s possible. In many ways the Davion espionage of the recent years makes things easier. Since the military technology has already leaked to one of the Great Houses, there’s no real harm in letting the others get hold of it. It could even have a stabilising effect.”
“Not to mention consuming their efforts.”
Apfelbucher smiled tightly. “There’s no need to make things easy for them, after all. Since they’re worried about the law and order situation on our worlds we can use those troops on worlds that really do have those problems and direct Hegemony efforts on the most stable and loyal worlds.”
Phillip nodded. “Coordinating it’s going to be a mess but I can draw up a list of worlds and regions where they’ll do more good than harm. And if we can point to dozens of examples of peaceful reconstruction by Hegemony personnel under the protection of General Baptiste’s soldiers compared to a history of issues where foreign workers are involved, it might make it harder for them to get claws into the worlds.”
“Please do.” The general leant back in her chair. “It’s not just data that’s escaping though. There’s a refugee issue – we’re moving people off the most badly damaged worlds but not all that many Hegemony worlds can accommodate them. And when the refugees are industrial workers…”
“Quite a lot of them have found work and new homes inside the Suns’ industries,” agreed Drummond. “And yet they’re Star League citizens. We can’t really stop them from going to other member-states – free movement is a guaranteed right.”
“We can still route the ships carrying them though,” Apfelbucher noted. “I’ve had a word with General Kerensky and he’s decided that as House Davion have essentially kicked open the door on most of our secrets it would make most sense to direct the majority of refugees into their worlds.”
“That’s an interesting definition of sense.”
“House Davion is more attentive than most are to the views of their citizens,” the general explained. “The refugees might be making new lives in the Suns but for the most part they’ll still consider the Hegemony their home. It will do no ill for there to be a strong partisanship in favour of the Hegemony within the Federated Suns and it might do a great deal of good.”
The Rim Worlder nodded slowly. “And they do have a larger number of under-developed worlds that can absorb an influx of new colonists.”
“Indeed. In fact, many of those worlds are under the theoretical government of the First Lord’s heir.”
“What First Lord? And what heir?”
“It’s an interesting grey area,” she agreed. “The First Lord’s heir is usually granted the title of Duke of Avalon within the Federated Suns. It’s mostly an honorary position, but new colonies are notionally under the protection of the Duke until they’re granted full membership of the Federated Suns. There are something like thirty worlds with that status right now and since John Davion has claimed responsibility for discharging the obligations of the Duchy until the succession is determined, he has no grounds to complain if General Kerensky asks that the Duchy assume the care of displaced Hegemony citizens.”
“There’s a pleasing degree of irony to that, since the First Lord’s heir also usually acts as Director-General,” Drummond said slyly. “But let’s just be careful how that’s phrased. After all, if it looks as if the General is approving Lord Davion to one position usually held by the First Lord’s successor…”
Apfelbucher paused and took a deep breath. “That’s a good point. I’ll make sure the message has some hefty qualifiers in it.”
.o0O0o.
Moscow, Terra
Alliance Core, Terran Hegemony
17 January 2774
Military history classes had touched on what an abysmal idea it had been for at least two pre-spaceflight leaders to engage in major military campaigns in this part of Terra during winter. Ethan was almost certain that General Kerensky was familiar with those campaigns, but nonetheless he’d launched Seventh Army in a major thrust out of Ural Mountains right in the coldest months of the year.
The Ninth Patriot Division and the Thirty-Third Amaris Dragoons (who’d absorbed so many supporting units and broken veterans that had tried and failed to stop the Eleventh Army Group’s march across Asia that they were effectively another division in their own right) had certainly not expected a mailed fist of eight BattleMech Divisions, four from the Seventh Army and four Divisions temporarily transferred from Thirteenth Army Group to come rushing at them.
Under the snow, the ground was either soft and treacherous or frozen and slippery. Neither was good for ‘Mechs and the APCs and other fighting vehicles behind the sixteen brigades of BattleMechs weren’t much better off, if at all.
Still, it was unexpected, and advancing under the cover of a weather front had at least made it impossible for aerial reconnaissance to detect them. More than a few foot patrols were over-run huddling for cover inside buildings all but oblivious to what was going on outside.
Personally, Ethan Moreau was very glad for the fusion reactor powering his Marauder. If he had to bail out, he suspected the Mechwarrior combat suit he wore would be of limited value against the cold. The 225th Division and the 250th – the only other surviving BattleMech Division from the original Seventh Army – were in the lead as they reached the outskirts of Moscow (or Moskva as the signs declared) and ran into the first signs of serious resistance.
“‘Mech sighted, unfamiliar design.” A moment later one of the Mongoose scout ‘Mechs retreated hastily, narrowly missed by a trail of cluster rounds that blew a low trench out of the road and smashed open the side of some minor piece of infrastructure that was set back from the road and walled off. Electrical, perhaps, from the magnetic pulse as it came apart.
Ethan kicked the Marauder forward faster, bringing his ER PPCs forward to bear. “Regimental front engagement,” he ordered. “Don’t let us get outflanked. Pritchard, use your tanks to back us up at points of contact.”
“Got it.” Marge Pritchard had been almost as reluctant to take a captaincy and temporary command of the armoured battalion still stubbornly attached to the 225th BattleMech Division as what was left of RepDep was to give her the job or the rank. Her broad-wheeled Demon made easier work of the icy roads than tracked vehicles or ‘Mechs though, snow-chained tyres gripping the ground.
The ‘Mech that came into view as Ethan rounded the table had a more or less conventional layout – it reminded him a little of a Rifleman, with the cockpit recessed into the upper torso and the arms rotating weapon pods, each mounting an autocannon. One of them had a second weapon built into it – as the two ‘Mechs exchanged fire, it revealed itself as a PPC much like the models in the Marauders’ club-like hands.
“Bah!” Ethan snarled as armour tore away. At least the rising temperature was a relief from the chill that threatened to seep in through the small viewport. The other ‘Mech had taken hits but it had good armour protection – the entire thing looked sleek and modern. “This is too much like a fair fight.”
“Can’t have that for our Colonel and saviour,” Pritchard said cheerfully. “Steuben.”
There was a sharp crack as the Demon’s main gun launched a gauss slug into the gash that one of Ethan’s PPCs had torn into the plating over the right-chest of the ‘Mech. The round penetrated but didn’t seem to do any serious damage.
The warbook chirped, reporting that the ‘Mech wasn’t a known design and appeared to have two LB-X heavy autocannon and a PPC.
“Tell me something I don’t know.”
As if on cue the warbook added that they’d just entered an ECM bubble and updated that onto the design’s known capabilities.
Ethan snarled as static chopped communications around him into indecipherable babble. He stepped the Marauder closer, seeing Amaris Dragoon markings on the other ‘Mech. Several more ‘Mechs of the same design were coming into view, engaging both his own 2252nd Battle Regiment and the 2507th Battle Regiment, having struck shrewdly at the juncture of the two Divisions. Leaving them to the rest of the command lance to focus fire on, Ethan used one of his Marauder’s weapon pods to smack the two muzzles of his opponent’s right arm out of line with his Mech and followed up by pressing the muzzles of his own right-arm weapons into the ruptured armour.
The extended range PPC and the medium laser blew through the shoulder myomers and structural frames, scattering the wreckage of a jump-jet and several tons of autocannon ammunition onto the street behind him. The young colonel winced at the thought of the damage he’d have done to his ‘Mech’s weapons if the ammo bin had been hit squarely rather than simply having the bottom and rear panels torn free by the point-blank fire.
The unfamiliar ‘Mech locked up, steam pouring from the ruptured side, and Ethan kicked at it. The heavy ‘Mech fell heavily and didn’t rise. From the way it was cooling, the reactor had shut down – likely the safety-cut.
Autocannon fire crackled out from behind a line of evergreens. He raised his Marauder’s arm to shield his cockpit and the armour on the limb almost immediately went crimson on his status display. Ethan flipped through magnetics and infrared before firing back with both PPCs and his autocannon at his best guess of what might represent the ‘Mech firing on him. At least in this cold he didn’t have to worry much about overheating.
One of the trees all but exploded as his right PPC struck it. The left PPC and the autocannon scored armour across the broad-chest of a Shootist with markings from the Dragoons – a heavy ‘Mech well suited to an up-front brawl like this one.
The two Mechwarriors prepared for another exchange of fire and then there was another sharp crack and the cockpit of the ‘Mech disintegrated.
“Good shooting, Steuben!”
“Due gratitude for the Colonel providing us with a proper tank,” the gunner replied, barely audible through Pritchard’s microphone.
Ethan had made sure that some of the Demons captured when Hector Graham surrendered his command on Keid were handed over to Pritchard. The kiss he got in response was a little disturbing – he wouldn’t have minded Marge giving him one as long as it wasn’t taken too seriously, but Johann Steuban had seized his hand and then kissed the back of it briefly, to the snickering of the rest of the crew.
The man could damn well shoot, though.
.o0O0o.
The Amaris Dragoons fell back deeper into the city and the 225th Division pressed after them, intent on staying in contact with the hostiles. Ethan knew it wasn’t an absolute rule that Republican forces wouldn’t launch weapons of mass destruction that could catch their own troops – Lockdale had burned that memory into him – but it was at least a favourable factor.
The divisional Air Defense Battalions were pushing aggressively to surround the city but it would take hours for them to get into position.
“Two-Two-Five-Two Actual,” an unfamiliar voice crackled across the radio. It sounded like a young man. “There’s a strategic objective ahead of your brigade.”
Ethan scanned the area. They were pushing through a residential area, scared faces in windows where families hadn’t withdrawn to shelter in cellars or subways. The 2252nd had taken enough damage in the first contact that they’d rotated back into the brigade’s reserve but that only put them a couple of hundred metres behind the point of the advance. “I don’t see anything. Who is this?”
“This is Corporal Truscott, on the General’s staff. The asset is strategic rather than tactical.”
Lieutenant General Officer – a name that was either very apt or very unfortunate – cut in. “Colonel, I’ve validated Corporal Truscott. His orders come right from the top and I’m detaching you and Pritchard for his mission.”
“Understood, sir.” Ethan checked again. “There’s a park,” he said, for lack of a better landmark. Many of the buildings here were taller than their ‘Mechs.
“Correct,” Truscott confirmed. “There are three blocks on the north side – you’re to set up a perimeter around them and wait for reinforcements.”
He looked and spotted the three blocks, four stories tall with heavy brick ‘gingerbread’ fronting that harkened back to the pre-industrial area. Ethan’s regiment had gone past hundreds of such buildings so far. “Understood, Captain. We can do that.”
Hopefully there hadn’t been a mix up and they weren’t supposed to clear the buildings floor by floor. General Officer hadn’t said anything about detaching any infantry for that purpose.
“Marge,” he advised on the brigade push, “Get your battalion on my regiment’s frequency would you? We’re being formed up as a task force.”
“Roger that,” she responded.
There was the occasional snap of weapons fire as the 2251st and 2253rd regiments kept pushing after the Dragoon tanks that had tried – just a little too late – to back up the ‘Mechs Ethan’s regiments had smashed. Breaking off at an angle, the 2252nd lunged across the park towards the building.
“First Battalion, take inner perimeter around the buildings,” Ethan ordered. “Third Battalion, I want lance-strength outposts two blocks in every direction except the park. Second, form on my position in the park. If anything tries to come at us from the south we’ll want to push them back so they don’t have line of sight on the buildings.”
“What’s so special about them?” asked someone.
“I don’t know but reading between the lines, I think this is right from General Kerensky. Pritchard, can you give me an outer perimeter north of the buildings.”
“What’s next, teaching your grandmother to suck eggs?” she replied, the tanks filing up through the roads around the objectives.
Ethan frowned. His grandmother did work in chicken farming, but why would she suck on an egg?
The park had probably been pleasant enough once. Someone had bulldozed a horseshoe-shaped berm ten feet high across it and there were long lines dug out and filled in along it. From the one that wasn’t entirely filled in, Ethan guessed they were about two metres deep.
One of the Second Battalion Kintaros knelt to examine the trench more closely.
“Careful, it could be mines.” Far too obvious, but the berm was probably a fighting position of some kind.
“S-sir.” The Mechwarrior’s voice was shaky. “You – you should see this.”
Ethan frowned and then walked his Marauder over. “What do you mean?” he asked, scanning for heat or metal. Nothing really stood out.
The Kintaro pointed. “Look.”
He focused a camera and went back to just visible light. The shapes didn’t make sense for a moment… and then they did and he had to fight back the urge to retch.
It was a mass grave, the last bodies covered only by snow.
“Sweet Jesus Christ.”
“Colonel Moreau.” A clipped voice over the radio. “I’m approaching your position. Do you have a perimeter?”
Ethan swallowed. “Yes, sir.”
“Good work, Colonel.”
“Sir, we’ll want a forensics team on this position once the city’s secure.”
Kerensky’s voice – he remembered it from New Earth – tightened. “Explain.”
“I’m looking at what seems to have been an improvised site for firing squads. And a lot of shallow graves.”
The General’s initial response was impenetrable Russian, but he could guess at the content. “I understand,” Kerensky said, at last returning to English. “It will be seen to.”
Four minutes later two additional battalions had joined Ethan’s task force – a mix of personnel carriers with the markings of the 181st Royal Mechanized Infantry Regiment and ‘Mechs from the 1495th Heavy Assault Regiment.
One of the ‘Mechs was different though – there were no unit markings, just a line of four stars beneath the stencilled legend ‘A Kerensky’. It halted as infantry spilled out of the carriers and into the western-most building. Ethan could hear faint voices from within but fortunately no weapons fire as the Orion’s cockpit opened and the Commanding General climbed out, showing no strain despite his years as he descended the ladder.
Through the canopy, Ethan saw someone climbing around inside the cockpit and once the general reached the ground the ladder retracted and the ‘Mech moved back. A platoon of guards fell in around Kerensky who, bare-headed despite the cold, entered the residential building.
“What the hell’s going on?”
“Too sensitive to transmit,” the voice of Corporal Truscott came over the channel. “I just hope we’re in time.”
Five minutes later the General was back, the platoon surrounding three others beside him. A woman and two pre-teens. The older boy paused and pointed up at the Orion, exclaiming something.
The olive-painted heavy ‘Mech raised its right arm and waved it hesitantly towards the sky.
Both the children waved back before they were bundled into one of the APCs, with the woman – their mother?
General Kerensky looked across the park, face drawn and grim, then directed a parade-ground salute towards Ethan’s ‘Mech.
He responded with his ‘Mech’s right hand and then watched as the convoy formed up and began to move eastwards through the streets.
“What was that about?” Pritchard exclaimed.
“We may never know,” Ethan replied. He could have speculated, but as Truscott had said… whatever it was too sensitive to transmit.
-
Dolsonville, Tancredi IV
Draconis March, Federated Suns
13 March 2774
“President Avellar.” Joshua rose and bowed as the head of the Outworlds Alliance entered the room.
David Avellar gave him a bland look as he returned the bow, if to a lesser degree. “Minister Davion.” While the president was almost a decade younger than Joshua, he wore the weight of his responsibilities visibly.
They both took their seats. “I hope your mother is well.”
“Mother is a great deal happier out of office than she was in it. She asked me to pass on her hopes that the ‘Terran question’ would be settled peacefully.”
“That’s a very noble sentiment.”
David shook his head slightly. “Yes, which is about all that can be said about it. I’m a little more concerned about what will happen when it is settled, which seems as if it’s only a matter of time.”
“There are only limited hold-outs in the eastern hemisphere as I understand it. Geneva’s still holding out and some of the Castles Brian but that’s basically siege-work. Bloody and time-consuming, but unlikely to lead to any great surprises.”
“I’m not a military man, but that seems to be to suggest that it can’t be long before Amaris receives his dues.” There was a quiet satisfaction in the young president’s voice. “What concerns me is what happens after that.”
“Will the ceasefire hold up, you mean?”
“That’s precisely what I mean.”
Joshua looked at him thoughtfully. “The losses taken in the Outworlds Alliance by Kerensky’s forces would have shattered any of the House Lords. Even today, the DCMS and AFFS combined couldn’t field forces on the scale of those that fought their way to Alpheratz nine years ago. That leaves the SLDF as the only force that could launch another invasion.”
“While I don’t intend to discuss military specifics, the Alliance Military Corps couldn’t put up quite the same resistance we did then. The forces of the… ‘Secret Army’ as it’s known, aren’t sustainable by the Alliance worlds alone and wouldn’t be even if more than half our worlds weren’t still rebuilding. If the SLDF returns, any resistance would be a guerrilla war.”
“Tying a huge number of troops down for years, not exactly something that the SLDF will be eager for, given the years they’ve already spent fighting in the Hegemony.” Joshua spread his hands. “I can’t guarantee that the rest of the Star League Council will feel the same way but the officer corps of the SLDF is probably a lot more interested in a long-deserved rest than they are in another war.”
“And how do you feel on that point? After all, your father is on the Council and one day you may be as well.”
“Not that I’m in any rush for the responsibility.”
“You shouldn’t be,” Avellar agreed. “You have an idea of it already, which may go to show that your family prepares its heirs more than my own do.”
“The only argument I’ve heard in favour of a war is one to try to seize resources to stabilise our economy. Which is a fool’s dream and my father’s made it abundantly clear to the Privy Council – throwing millions of tons of precious minerals or adding worlds to the Federated Suns won’t address the issues we’re facing. Having stable trading partners might. We’re not in favour of a renewed war.”
“I’m relieved to hear you say that.”
“Don’t be that relieved. I give it about ten years before the Hegemony is back on its feet and someone starts thinking that a new Reunification War would be a way to stop the member-states squabbling, giving them an outside enemy.”
“Ten years?” David asked and then shrugged. “I’ll take that. A lot can happen in ten years.”
“Some things being more probable than others.”
The president nodded. “My people won’t welcome the Star League back. And however weak we are, we’re better prepared militarily than we were two hundred years.”
“You’re also more divided – the Omniss, your uncle’s militant faction and then there are the industrial colonies of your spinward provinces with their Terran sympathies. They were far less damaged by the wars but most of them aren’t self-sufficient.”
“Ten years might be long enough to do something about that. If, as you said, we have a stable trading partner.”
Joshua nodded. “Exactly that. We don’t have to like each other, but the fact is that we need each other. As long as we can accept that, we can do business.”
“It’ll take a little more than that. I’ll also need a stable currency. Your father’s generosity has given me a start on that but I’m not blind to the fact that there are dozens of ways he could have compromised that in order to have options in the future to wage economic warfare.”
“I wouldn’t be surprised if he has options,” Joshua conceded. “But using those options would cost us the relationship we want with your nation. Does my father strike you as someone likely to do that?”
“No, but then he didn’t strike me as the sort of man who’d rip off a dozen Hegemony banks and he apparently managed that.”
Joshua blinked. “I hadn’t heard that it was a dozen.”
“I may have a few details wrong but as I understand it, he took some of the most successful investment banks in the Hegemony for a ride. Most of my people admire that about him. Terran financial institutions aren’t all that welcome in the Alliance. Of course, the problem is that we’re going to need our own. There’s only so much we can do with a cash economy.”
“I can see how that would be a problem.” Joshua considered. “I take it that banks receiving investments from the Federated Suns wouldn’t be doing themselves any favours?”
“No, but I’m not sure where else I can get capital from. If I can get a working bank that can lend money to the companies we still have then they can afford to get production going, which in turn means income for them and for all their employees.”
Joshua considered. “One of the issues we’ve had is that without the Hegemony Central Bank and other institutions like them, there haven’t been so many places we can place money in escrow when we deal with… organisations that operate cross borders.”
“Such as…?”
“Honestly, the example that sprang to mind since we’re negotiating a contract renewal at the moment is the Illician Lancers.”
“Are you suggesting we do business with mercenaries?” the president exclaimed.
“You want capital, don’t you? Our budget for private military contractors runs to the billions of Star League dollars each year. If a bank in the Outworlds Alliance were willing to act as a neutral party, holding the funds and releasing them once the contract was completed, it make life a lot easier for us. The bank can use the funds as a source of capital to back loans, as long as they don’t go wild with it. And it would give you another layer of security.”
David Avellar snorted. “Yes, I suppose your mercenaries would be reluctant to attack the people who are supposed to release their pay to them.”
“It’d be up to you to convince other nations to make similar arrangements, but it could play well for you. As I understand it, there was a state on Earth that had a pretty good run as a neutral enforced partly by being a financial hub that was more valuable to their neighbours as a stable independent party they could do business with. It might not be a bad model for you to adopt.”
.o0O0o.
Capetown, Terra
Alliance Core, Terran Hegemony
20 April 2774
The coastal patrol craft that escorted the Gatcham to dock had SLDF personnel with them. So did the welcome party.
“Captain DeKirk?” a young officer in uniform asked as he came aboard.
“That’s me. What’s with the platoon?” she asked as almost twenty men and women filed up the gangway. “This didn’t happen last time I docked here.”
“Respectfully, captain, the last time you were here, you were in Amaris-occupied territory. We need to make sure your ship isn’t being used to smuggle a weapon into the port.”
Cynthia grunted. “I suppose not. Go right ahead then. Except for the seaman checking the bow mooring the entire crew’s back here.”
“Thank you.” The man checked the papers and Helena saw some looks exchanged between Rafael, Mike and Cynthia – as best they could tell, the two Federated Suns officers were disagreeing with her on something. “Lot of DeKirks here. Family operation?”
“My three youngest. My husband and oldest two children are with the SLDF last time I heard.” Cynthia gave the man a smirk as he looked up sharply. “Not that I’ve heard much for a few years. You took your time.”
“It’s a very long way from the Periphery, ma’am.” He looked her over. “If you don’t mind coming to the port authority we’ll be able to see if we can trace the rest of your family though.”
“Once you’re sure of my bona fides, I suppose.”
He nodded. “As you can imagine. And the rest of the crew?”
“We’re Federated Suns nationals,” Rafael said after a moment. “We had to ditch our papers though. Captain DeKirk helped us to keep our heads down.”
“Probably wise,” the man said drily and closed up the file. “I don’t know what your plans were, Captain, but I’m afraid we’re commandeering shipping for military use. The Gatcham is hereby seized by the SLDF.”
Cynthia spread her hands. “That’s between you and head office. But if by military use you mean heading into a fight, my kids and I are leaving the ship. I owe them better than that.”
“As long as you don’t mind staying aboard until we’ve finished sweeping the ship for any threats to port security, that’s not a problem. After that I can give you and your family a ride to the port authority.”
“That’ll do nicely.”
Helena looked at Rafael who reached over and gave her arm a reassuring squeeze. “I don’t imagine there’s a consulate set up again yet, sir,” he asked politely. “Do we have any avenues for getting back to somewhere we can be identified?”
“Can we persuade you to stay? We’re going to need seamen – it’s not a hugely common skill-set in the SLDF.”
“I’m sorry sir, but we have family who don’t know we’re still alive.”
The officer nodded. “I can’t fault you for that. With the damage to the city, there are a lot of displaced people looking for places to go. Come to the port authority and we can get you on a truck out to the refugee camps. From there, the administrators should be able to hook you up with a ship back to New Rhodes – a lot of empty dropships are going back that way. There’s a consulate there that can help you.”
“You’re a lifesaver.”
He shrugged. “Just doing my job. Thank Captain DeKirk for keeping you undercover. From what I can tell, the OPD was paying a lot of attention to foreigners.”
Helena shivered at the thought and moved closer to Rafael. “I hope we never run into them.”
“Oh, we’re working on that.”
The two of them headed back to their quarters, passing two of the security detail who were combing the ships living quarters with what looked like complicated hand-held sensor wands. Mike joined them a few minutes later, finding Helena examining her assembled possessions and a bag that was clearly too small for them all.
“We’d better hope we find a dropship before Cynthia finds her husband,” she warned in a low voice.
“You don’t trust her?” asked Helena, looking around. “Aren’t we safe around the SLDF?”
“We’re about ninety percent safe. But if Amaris finds out you’re still alive before we’re at least off-planet – and preferably out of the system – then he’d throw everything he could at your reported location. Up to and including nuking the city. We can’t be sure he doesn’t have submersible missile boats out there.”
Mike grabbed Helena’s clothes and dragged them out of the possession. “Just take the essentials,” she directed. “No more than half the bag. Remember, once we get you secure you’ll be able to replace anything that doesn’t have sentimental value.”
She flushed. “Sorry.”
“Ian should have told you,” she said, using Rafael’s cover name.
“Tell a woman what she should and shouldn’t pack?” he asked wryly.
“She’s not a woman, she’s your charge,” Mike said harshly. “No offense, ‘Greta’ but this line of work is a lot less glamorous than the holovids make out.”
“I kind of picked that up after the third time I made bread,” Helena told her. “It’s hard to feel glamorous when you’re up to your elbows in flour.”
“Yeah, well you’ll not be making your own bread again once we get to New Rhodes.”
“It had its upside.” Helena paused in her packing. When they got to New Rhodes, would she ever see them again? “Do you have family back home? We never talked about it.”
“Not close.”
Rafael nodded. “Military is hard on family life, and for long term ops like this recruiters look for people who don’t have close ties.”
She started sorting out what she wanted to take other than clothes. “It’ll be odd not being around Cynthia and the others.”
“Yes, we noticed how fond you are of Benjy.”
Helena yelped indignantly. Benjy ‘DeKirk’ was about a year younger than her, but since the only other people aboard roughly his age were his sisters Jules (of an age with Helena) and Kristy (who’d just turned fourteen), he’d perhaps understandably formed more of an attachment to her than she had returned.
“Ah, young love,” Mike said sarcastically. “The sweep’ll take a while so don’t rush and forget something.”
-
(Former) Army Group Eleven Headquarters, New Rhodes III
Lockdale Province, Terran Hegemony
19 June 2774
“We’re in uncharted territory now,” Hanse noted as two ground cars pulled up outside the building. “Not in a bad way, of course.”
“It’s a miracle we managed this much,” John told him, watching the five passengers leaving the vehicles. “Hopefully they’re fairly shock resistant.”
He opened the door and walked out into the hall where guards were checking the papers he’d sent out to the new arrivals. It had been several years since this had been his home away from New Avalon but it was still comfortably familiar – currently most of it was being used as a headquarters for reconstruction efforts although there was some talk of re-establishing a provincial government here as Lockdale was no longer suitable.
On what was clearly a long-suppressed reflex, three of the new arrivals snapped to attention and saluted. The other two stared at him in surprise. John returned the salutes. “I’m pleased to see all of you,” he told them. “Please come in.”
The room he’d been waiting in was an informal reception area – a few couches along the walls and for some reason one wall held a fish-tank. It hadn’t been there when John was last here but it at least gave the room less of a bureaucratic feel. He’d dressed down for the occasion, civilian pants and a sweater rather than any of the uniforms he was entitled to. Apparently it didn’t make him any less recognisable.
“Helena, I don’t know that I’d have stuck much in your mind since we haven’t met in years.”
“I remembered your face as one to avoid,” the young woman said and then coloured. “Sorry, I… Richard preferred I not meet with the other Lords.”
“I don’t believe we ever met.” The last guest was broadly built and carried a lot of weight on that frame. His hair was silvering although he was younger than John. “I’m Keith Cameron. Thank you for sending Elle to keep me alive.” He offered his hand.
The First Prince had been told the name already and his ever-efficient staff had assembled a quick biography. Helena’s sixth cousin by way of First Lord Ian Cameron’s younger brother had served two years in the SLN before resigning his commission and returning to a small family property in Europe where he’d engaged in some not very well received writing on political issues. Keith had avoided family gatherings since well before Richard Cameron had come of age – it was entirely possible that the young First Lord had entirely forgotten the man’s existence.
John accepted and shook it. “I’m glad it worked out. Unfortunately, none of the other operatives on Terra have reported in so far.” He looked at the three Stealthy Foxes. “The three of you did amazing work. I understand that one of you was responsible for getting the DeCheviliers out?”
The shorter of the two women among the operatives raised her hand. “Yes sir. She was very co-operative but since she insisted on staying on Terra with her family it seemed best to join forces with Rafael once she was in SLDF hands.”
“I fully agree, Leftenant. All of you have done very very well and I know that General DeChevilier feels the same way. I’ve had a message that I can only describe as fulsome, asking for your name so he can request a medal for you.”
“I don’t expect a medal, more getting another job.”
“I’m quite sure that MIIO will be, but taking a medal might be necessary. If you insist on declining, I’d at least ask that you explain your reasoning to the General and his family in writing. I’ll do quite a lot for men and women who’ve done so much for the Star League but there are some grenades I’m not jumping on.”
“What happens next?” asked Keith. “I’ve been led to believe that you want us to go to the Federated Suns for now.”
John indicated the couches. “Let’s sit down,” he suggested, matching action to his words. He noted that Helena waited for Sergeant Rafael Cardonnes to sit and then took a seat next to him. Meanwhile Keith sat in the middle of one couch, leaving not quite enough room for anyone else. Leftenant Michelle Heinessen and Sergeant Eleanor Frost shared another couch.
“There are still some potential security risks, wherever you were to go, but even worlds that have been liberated for years could still have Amaris loyalists who’ve gone to ground and are just waiting for a suitable target before they emerge. One or both of the only two members of House Cameron known to still be alive would certainly qualify. What I’m strongly recommending is that once we’ve introduced you to the SLDF that one of you will stay in the Hegemony aboard one of their warships while the other stays in the Federated Suns where Amaris has never had any strong presence.”
“For the three of you who are part of the AFFS, I’m afraid you’ll have to come back to New Avalon for a debriefing. After that I think you all have a lot of leave time due and your next assignments will be discussed. Given the scope of what you’ve done, training posts are likely but we owe you a lot and within reason you can expect your preferences to be considered.”
“Uh, thank you sir.”
Helena cleared her throat. “I’d like to go to New Avalon, if that’s alright?” She glanced at her cousin.
The man made a dismissive gesture, although something about his face suggested a degree of relief. Or perhaps even eagerness. “I’m fine with that. I’ve been warships before, after all.”
Hanse rolled his eyes. “No hidden motives at all with either of them.”
“Very well then, that might work out for the best. Lady Helena can visit her cousins on New Avalon, who are eager to meet you.”
The young woman gave him a startled look. “I have cousins on New Avalon?”
“It’s the first I’ve heard of it,” Keith exclaimed in some surprise.
“Helena, your father’s half-sister Guerever was married to one of my distant cousins.” Keith being out of the loop on court-gossip was understandable but Helena must have been quite sheltered from political discussion. “She passed away quite recently but Vincent and their children will be pleased to meet you.”
She rubbed her forehead. “Was one of them expecting to be First Lord?”
Hanse had the freedom to laugh. “She’s picked up on the key point.”
“Because I’m probably not well-enough educated,” Helena continued awkwardly. “I mean, I haven’t…”
“If preparation was a requirement, which perhaps it should be, then your siblings and you yourself would likely have been passed over and we’d be in a very different position now,” John told her gently. “However, Guerever and her children aren’t in the formal succession and I don’t think that’s likely to change since the other council members would probably object.”
“They’re not going to… be strange? Lord Amaris had all sorts of things to tell Richard about how he’d be treated in the Rim Worlds Republic.”
Sergeant Cardonnes took Helena’s hand reassuringly. “Amaris wasn’t exactly a reliable source and I’m sure your family wouldn’t treat you badly.”
“If you choose to appear in public, I think you can be assured of a warm reception,” John told her. “Your father was greeted very fondly when he toured the Lyran Commonwealth twenty years ago.”
“You have a good time on New Avalon, cuz,” Keith instructed her. “I’ll represent our family here.”
“I really want a full dossier on him,” Hanse muttered and John had to agree,
.o0O0o.
Paris, Terra
Alliance Core, Terran Hegemony
22 June 2774
General Kerensky’s image towered over the packed streets of the ancient city. The city might have had to be stormed by the SLDF, adding another layer to the history of Paris, but fortunately the defenders had been stopped before they could cause catastrophic damage. The SLDF garrison was an easy post, troops rotated through it to bleed off the stress of more than a year of operations on Terra.
Right now the welcome was re-focused slightly and Ethan saw a startled AFFS officer from one of the Air Defense Batteries getting kissed by almost everyone she passed, causing spillage from the two glasses the woman held.
“- to advise the people of the Hegemony,” Kerensky’s voice boomed out from the recording that had been repeated time and time again today, “That members of House Cameron escaped the purge of the Usurper -”
Pritchard’s crew had taken over a table outside one of the many bars and Ethan pushed through the crowd towards her. “Gay Paree, eh?” the major asked cheerfully. “Have a drink, we haven’t had to pay for one since we got here.”
“And just how sober are you?”
Koopman gave Ethan a bright look. “Maybe not quite so much as we should be, but who can blame us?”
“- help of valiant citizens of the Federated Suns -”
Ethan shook his head. “I know the General’s sticking to just the facts, but how many of the rumours stitching them together can you believe?” He pulled a chair from the next table over and studied the drinks on the table before selecting what looked like some kind of cider. Another glass was pushed onto the table almost before he’d lifted it away and he saw it was another patron.
The man raised his own glass. “Kerensky! Le bon generale! Davion! Le bon prince! Cameron! L’espère!”
“L’espère!” Ethan agreed, taking a sip from his glass and finding to his relief that it was indeed cider. He waited until the man was far enough away not to hear before leaning forwards. “What does ‘espère mean?”
“The hope,” Steuben told him blandly. It didn’t surprise Ethan that the gunner spoke French.
“- of the SLDF, will be touring the Hegemony to oversee reconstruction efforts while Lady Helena -”
“Well, that’s good. Something to celebrate,” he agreed in relief that he hadn’t said something really stupid. “I think we’re due even if we’re not quite done with Amaris yet.”
“Some people aren’t waiting,” Ranson noted absently.
Koopman shoved the gunner. “You’re just trying to kill the mood.”
“What’s bothering you?” Pritchard asked. “Who isn’t waiting?”
Ranson pushed his chair back for a moment, leaning on the back legs as he stretched, and then folded forwards, rocking the table and spilling some of the drinks.
“Hey!” Pritchard snapped. “Cut that out.”
“Just pissed,” he said. “Look, remember what you told us, Colonel Moreau? About the League making you an offer?”
“Assume that I don’t,” Ethan said. Pissed was right, probably in both senses. “What did the Star League offer me?”
“The other League, the Free Worlds League.”
It had been almost six years since his graduation but that had set a sour note in the event that he could still taste. “Yeah. I don’t remember telling you though,” he added and gave Pritchard a look.
“I was having a slash behind the tank when you told the boss.” Ranson picked up one of the glasses and swirled the contents consideringly. “About joining the Free Worlds League Military when you were done with the SLDF. Not if, when.”
“Don’t put words in my mouth. I don’t plan on trading SLDF olive for FWLM whites.”
Ranson frowned and then grunted apologetically, “Didn’t mean that. But they kind of, you know, assumed? Right?”
“They did. What’s your point?”
“There was a guy yesterday.”
“That fat guy from Sarna?” asked Koopman. “The one who said he was an advance party for reconstruction aid.”
“Yeah. Well that’s not all he was after. He said that the SLDF isn’t going to able to stay as large as it is now once the war is over. It’s too expensive and the Star League will need to spend its money on reconstruction, so there’ll be a drawdown.”
“We’re already short by eight armies compared to before the war,” Pritchard pointed out.
“The SLDF’s been built up over time,” said Steuben thoughtfully. “It wasn’t always twenty armies – and right now there’s only one territorial state to garrison. Unless anyone thinks we’ll be sent out to bring the other three back in line.”
“I don’t think the General would go for it,” Ethan pointed out. “Where are you going, Ranson? What’d the Capellan say?”
“He said that if I was mustering out I had a legal right to buy my gear – like, a tank or at least a share in one. And the Capellan government would cover the cost of that for me if I were to join the CCAF.”
“What would you do with a quarter of a tank?”
“Tie it to your neck and drown you, Koopman. That’s not the issue.”
Ethan drummed his fingers on the table. “You’re sure that’s what he said, Sergeant? It’s not the booze talking?”
“I was sober then,” the man said indignantly. “Is it true?”
“It’s an addendum to the Edict of 2650,” Steuben advised, eyes glittering. “To convince the House Lords to reduce the size of their armies it was agreed the soldiers mustering out could purchase their equipment. Most of it ended up family-owned and in various militias. The SLDF and all nine house militaries allow the practise.”
“If the budget’s tight, I can sort of see how that would work out to the SLDF’s advantage,” Pritchard said slowly. “But if the troops are taking their gear into the Capellan armed forces, I don’t think that’s what the Council had in mind back then.”
“We’d better write it up once we’re sober,” Ethan told Ranson seriously. “I’d really rather you’d told me about it first.”
“I didn’t want to say anything on base. People might think I was going to back out of the next push or something.”
The colonel nodded. “I get that. But if the Capellans are making that sort of offer then they’re probably not the only ones.”
“We’re still bigger than any of the great Houses. Even if we just consolidated to one army for each state we’d outnumber them.” Pritchard drained a glass. “What’d you tell the puke, Alois?”
“Told him I’d think about it and tell my crew.” The gunner put the glass he’d been holding down on the table. “Kind of hinted that I might be interested if the offer was better.”
“How’d he take that?”
“Said he’d be in touch.”
“****** hell,” Ethan hissed. “Vultures are circling like they think… like they think something’s going to be dead soon.”
“Amaris will be.”
“I’ll drink to that.” He did so, but the thought didn’t leave him. The scavengers weren’t after Amaris, they were eyeing the SLDF. Why? What did they know, or think they knew? There were living Camerons, the Star League would go on and so would the SLDF, so why…?
.o0O0o.
St Davids, New Avalon
Crucis March, Federated Suns
4 August 2774
The Cameron-Davions made their home outside the easternmost city of Albion, many hundreds of miles north and east of Avalon City. The largest of New Avalon’s four continents, Albion stretched around much of the northern hemisphere of the planet, but here it looked out into the East Avalon Ocean, a body of water surrounded on five sides by the continents and by the archipelago of the New Hebrides.
While it wasn’t as frozen as New Scotland, the weather still had John pulling a coat around him as he walked through his cousins’ gardens. “Perhaps we should give her more time.”
Hanse shook his head. “She’s setting down roots here, if we don’t give her a kick – figuratively, of course – she’ll probably never leave.”
“She doesn’t want to lead the Star League.”
“You know that old saw. Not wanting power makes her the best suited to wield it. Hopefully she’ll have some restraint, the way her ancestors did.”
John grunted. “Keith is at least trying.”
“Very trying.”
“That’s not what I mean.” They passed a folly where the path through the gardens split, and took the turn of the path towards the sea. “She reminds me of Allyce Avellar.”
“That’s a bit harsh.”
“Not quite like that. I think she’s got a good handle on the realities of the situation. But she doesn’t seem prepared to rule.”
“Were you? You didn’t expect to rule, did you?”
“I had a couple of years to prepare myself. She spent that period – ever since her brother died – in hiding.”
“It gives her a little mystique. Most of the public assume that she and Keith were working with the resistance. And in a technical sense, it’s almost true.” Hanse chuckled. “At least she got out and saw how things were. From the reports, Keith withdrew almost entirely – made him easy to guard but that’s about all I can say to it. Show her who and what she’s responsible for and I think she’ll step up.”
“I’ve come this far.”
Hanse pointed. “There she is.”
Helena Cameron had spread a blanket out on the grass near – but not too near – the edge of a small cliff overlooking the East Avalon Ocean. A picnic basket sat next to her as she lay on the blanket, a noteputer in front of her. At the sound of John’s feet on the gravel she looked up and then scrambled to her feet, brushing down her skirt. “Your Highness.”
He bowed. “Lady Cameron.”
“I didn’t expect you.” She frowned and then shook her head. “No, that’s not true. I knew someone would come eventually. I need to leave?”
“You’re Vincent’s guest and his children’s cousin. It would take far more than a First Prince to override his hospitality – which I understand is yours almost unreservedly.” John gave her a kind smile. “But there’s an entire universe out there that’s going to impinge on you whatever you decide to do with your life.”
“The famous Davion sense of duty,” Helena said drily. She pointed at her noteputer. “There was a strongly suggested list of history reading from Vincent. Hoping that traditions would rub off on me, I think.”
“Are you reading it?”
The young woman made a defeated noise. “I managed a chapter or two of some of them. I haven’t really studied in years. For that matter, I haven’t completed school, much less gone to college.”
“They say it’s never too late to start learning, but you may find your schedule a little busy for studying.”
“Do you really think I could lead the Star League?” she asked him. “My only profession so far is as a baker.”
“Were you any good?” he asked.
In answer, Helena opened the basket and offered him a scone. “Please try for yourself, Prince Davion.”
“Why thank you.” John accepted the scone and took a bite. “This is rather nice. Did you work at the shop-counter too?”
She looked away. “You’ve had a full report from Rafael, I’m sure.”
“He speaks highly of you.” A gull cried out, far out over the sea. John looked out over the waves by reflex and couldn’t spot the bird. “Truthfully, there’s no perfect preparation for leadership. I had two years between being named as heir and taking office, but it still came as a shock.”
“And I’ve had longer than that.”
“I’d really only count since you left Terra.” He took a deep breath. “Your family had enough property here in the Federated Suns that you don’t really need to do anything for your life, but would you be willing to try?”
“I’m just on vacation,” she said, waving her hand to indicate the estate around them. “Honestly, at times I felt like walking into town and seeing if there was a baker hiring. Or maybe one of the ships looking for a cook. If you’re sure I can help, I’ll try. That’s all I can offer you.”
“That’s all I’m asking.”
“Where do I even begin?” she asked. “Going back to the Hegemony?”
“That would be the deep end option.” Better to start slow, he decided, thinking back to the options he and Hanse had discussed as he flew out from Avalon City. “What I suggest – and it’s up to you – would be to start with public visits here in the Federated Suns. There are quite a number of Hegemony citizens who’ve come to the Suns to make new lives away from the fighting. Some of them settled on Galax, just a single jump away from us.”
“Press the flesh, read off a speech someone wrote for me?” Helena made a face. “I’ve done that a time or two. Although I don’t have a speechwriter.”
“I’m fairly sure we can find you a few candidates – although you’ll need to build up your own staff. If I assemble one for you, then it’ll be assumed they work for me as well.”
“How would I even begin? Put out adverts?”
“Well there’s a healthy – or possibly a little overbloated – lobbying industry in my hometown.” John orientated himself and pointed south-west. “A bustling little place you might’ve heard of. I’d suggest asking Vincent to help you get in touch with a recruitment firm. There are several that specialise in arranging personal staffs for nobles new to the royal court – it’s not quite the same but it’s a starting point.”
The young woman looked away. “I’ll need security too.”
“That, you already have covered. The Royal Black Watch died – as far as we know, to the last man – fighting to defend your brother. That’s not a tradition the SLDF has forgotten and General Kerensky’s pulled a full Leftenant-General to assemble a brigade to guard you.”
“An entire brigade? Isn’t that a little excessive? Even the Black Watch was just a regiment!”
“The Royal Black Watch was just the most obvious part of a more extensive system of palace security that was supposed to keep your family safe. And since you’ll be travelling, your security will need to cover multiple locations – between my wife, my son and I we have about twice that deployed around us.”
“I suppose I never thought about it.” She shook her head. “And I need to start.”
“You’ll never be able to think about everything,” John advised. “Pick good people and let them do their jobs, so you can focus on the parts of leading that only you can do.”
“And will my new head of security be a good person? I know Kerensky chose him, but I won’t know him.”
“It’s a her, actually.” John grinned. “You’re free to request someone else, of course, but I believe Angela Banacek-DeChevilier comes highly recommended by your last employer.”
Helena flushed with what he judged was a mix of pleasure and embarrassment. “Cynthia’s mothering me again.”
“Thank god someone did,” Hanse muttered.
-
Brussels, Terra
Alliance Core, Terran Hegemony
7 September 2774
The Hegemony government complex in Geneva was unusable and would be for some time. There was a strong undercurrent among the enlisted personnel that maybe it would be better to burn it down – historical monuments or not – and start over.
It wasn’t a matter of property damage, really. While other parts of the city had been damaged in the fighting – particularly the space port, where the Tartan Brigade had put up a fanatical last stand – the decision had been made that rather than digging the Thirteenth Hegemony Patriots out of the Hegemony Congress building and its associated structures, they’d just be starved out. There had only been sporadic sniping… but also a great deal of ill-feeling expressed by the besieged Patriots, manifested as graffiti, minor property damage and – inexplicably – the use of the main hall as a latrine.
The Star League Accords had been signed in the hall, which had room for an audience of thousands in the viewing gallery. While the water had been cut off, making the attached washrooms more or less useless, they’d still had access to spades and the garden surrounded by the buildings. Why use the massive hall…?
It had taken the division three months to run out of food and possibly to get sick of the smell. As soon as they’d been disarmed though, a working roster had been worked out and platoon-sized teams were being marched back under guard, with mops and buckets. Kerensky wasn’t going to have his own troops cleaning up the mess made by the so-called Patriots, it was bad enough they had to see and smell it while guarding the work crews.
Fortunately Brussels had been more or less bypassed by the fighting and had ample available office space so it had become the de facto headquarters of the SLDF presence on Terra.
“We’ve managed to reorganise around the forces we need to leave in place,” DeChevilier concluded. “With garrisons to defend and police the liberated regions…” He paused and Kerensky nodded, in understanding.
Northern India had exploded with civil unrest for reasons that ran back centuries after the occupation forces were removed. An impromptu Corps of four Infantry Divisions had had to be formed to adequate keep the conflicts under some measure of control and if it was the worst it was by no means the only hot-spot. Martial law was in force everywhere and two armies – effectively a quarter of the available forces on Terra – were deployed to enforce that.
“There are basically three options for entering North America.” DeChevilier indicated the map. “Seize South America and fight our way past Panama, cross the Bering Straits or another orbital drop. Our information suggest that the air defences over North America are even stronger than those we faced in Asia. We’d probably lose at least ten percent of the forces committed just coming down. Even bringing warships into lower orbits to provide fire support will be costly.”
“The Bering route would be difficult in summer, but we’re entering winter in the Northern hemisphere.” The commanding general ran one hand back over his head. “I found out at Moscow just how little Mother Winter cares for our technology. And that was over relatively good ground. Fighting through the marshes and mountains of Alaska will be far worse.”
“That leaves Panama. It isn’t a Castle Brian but that’s about all I can say in its favour.”
“Once we have it, Central America is open to us, and Amaris is cut off from the South America.” Kerensky ran one finger down the map. “There are three Castles Brian along the east coast, not to mention heavy industries. I expect another scorched earth campaign by the troops there.”
“You want to commit our forces like that?”
Kerensky rubbed his face. “If your Army Group moves across the Pacific, it won’t be clear to Amaris where you’re going to strike. He can’t afford to strip Unity City of troops to reinforce anywhere else – he might even pull more forces there. Land Fourth Army north of Panama – McGuinness will hold that door closed – and Huong’s Seventh Army to the south. Once they have Panama isolated, Third Army can take it.”
“Lucas.”
“He’s your protégé. You don’t believe he can do it?”
DeChevilier hesitated. “He’s our most aggressive general, but… don’t expect many prisoners.”
“I gave orders that surrenders are to be accepted.”
“Alex, you can’t just throw troops into the furnace without hardening them. I’m not saying Jack’s ordering atrocities, but there are a couple of times I’ve trusted his judgement in how hard to come down on troops that are… misbehaving.”
“How hard?”
“Not very. They haven’t transgressed again… but they’ve not had a chance to. We put them in the fire again and old habits could re-appear.” Aaron shrugged. “There’s always been a touch of fire and brimstone to Jack, and this war… it’s almost a crusade.”
“‘God will know his own’? I won’t have that.” Kerensky rose to his feet. “I’m not soft, but if the Republicans and the Hegemony regiments feel they daren’t surrender our losses will mount. Should I relieve him?”
“It wouldn’t be good for morale, and we’re going to need that fire.”
“Fire, yes. But no brimstone.” The old general paced back and forth across the office. “I’ll speak to him myself. This will be his last chance, Aaron. Watch his troops. If he won’t control them at Panama, take over the army yourself.”
“I’ll do that.”
Kerensky moved up beside DeChevilier and looked down at the map. “Manaus, Curitiba, Tinogasta. A three pronged attack across the Atlantic to take out the heart of the defences and then push west to the Andes.”
“The Eight, Twelfth and Fifteenth. Don’t bleed those armies out, we’ll need them when spring comes.”
“Yes, yes we shall.”
The two men pored over the plan, refining the concept of their plans before they handed them over to their staffs. But neither suggested closing the focus in on South America and each found their eyes straying to the far north-west of North America. To Puget Sound and Unity City. To Stefan Amaris.
.o0O0o.
Stirling, Argyle
Crucis March, Federated Suns
23 December 2774
“You never told me why you hated this place?” John enquired.
The castle outside Argyle’s capital city had been built for the great statesman Lucien Davion. Edwina had seized on it as the perfect place to host Joshua’s wedding away from the business of government on New Avalon. Castle Davion was grander, but more than half of it was given over to running the Federated Suns. Here the entire faux-fortress was given over to House Davion.
“Treason leaves a bitter taste,” Hanse replied sourly. “I was thrown into the dungeons here while a conspiracy put a clone in my place on New Avalon.”
“Is there no end to the excitements of your life? How would your wife have missed it?”
“It was before the wedding, obviously. Thank god for loyal friends.”
John shook his head. “Amen to that. I won’t ask you to go down to the dungeons then.”
“Not for all the jewels of India.” The ghost shuddered. “I’ve never felt so helpless.”
The prince nodded. They were out in the woods overlooking the castle, steering clear of the wedding preparations. Joshua and his soon-to-be brother in law had taken some of the other young men out on horses, something of a new experience for a number of the guests. It seemed best to let them be the centre of attention so John had elected to go for a walk ostensibly alone. Michael Stopec and Thomas Halder-Davion were holding down the fort on New Avalon, leaving him free of responsibility for a few days. “We’ve almost done it, Hanse.”
“Don’t count your chickens.”
“Kerensky will have Unity City next year. Amaris won’t make it cheap but no one believes he can hold out longer than that. Helena will make a good First Lord and then…”
“And then?” Hanse shook his head. “Simon Cameron was a good First Lord too. You can relax when the Star League Council start being co-operative, but I wouldn’t hold my breath on that.”
“I’ve been thinking of suggesting a new proposal to limit the size of the house militaries.”
“John, everyone’s going to be thinking of Richard.”
“I know, but it’s insanely expensive. The arms race is just as bad for our economies as losing the Hegemony was. I won’t be asking anyone to reduce their forces, just to cap us all off at roughly the current levels.”
Hanse shook his head. “And who’ll enforce it? You know the previous limits were being worked around – here in the Suns as much as anywhere – militias, depots full of material ‘just in case’. I’m pretty sure the Coordinators just ignored the limits entirely.”
“We have to start somewhere.”
“I’ll grant you that point. You’d probably be better seeing who you can talk around first though. Robert Steiner’s probably not going to forgive you the jab you gave him over the Rim Worlds but maybe Kenyon Marik. He’s got a working brain, under that ego.”
“Possibly, yes. He’s really gutted the Star League infrastructure, but he does have his Parliament to keep happy so there’s an opening for leverage there. And Minoru Kurita could be open to reason.”
“Oh, and how do you think that’ll work? The SLDF’s had over a million casualties fighting Amaris, more than they took in the Periphery. Right now the League looks weak and you know how the Dragon responds to weakness.”
“I’ll appeal to his pride. The importance of the Combine as a pillar of the Star League. Once we know about the condition of his cousin’s family, he won’t be so withdrawn and putting their strength behind reconstruction would save face for them.”
“His pride’s the problem,” Hanse warned. “The fact that it’s known his family were used as hostages would be embarrassing for him. In their eyes, it’s better to be monsters than to be known as weak. More than ninety years from now, they launched the first campaign of the Third Succession War just to punish the realm that had learned that House Kurita had suffered internal strife. Admittedly they attacked the wrong realm and your… a Davion of the time caught them from behind, but the principle is the same.”
“That’s why I think a distraction could be effective, if I can bring him around. Something to focus upon that emphasises the Combine’s strength and influence.” John smiled wryly. “I admit it’s easier said than done.”
“I won’t deny that he’s able. Not trustworthy, but able. And that leaves Barbara Liao.”
“Unfortunately I don’t think there’s much chance of any cooperation there. Anything that looks like I’m gaining influence will be anathema to her. Bringing Kurita around would seem like I’m freeing up my flank to threaten her, allying with Marik is collaberating to pressure her along both borders.”
“We’re still paying the price for that damned nuke on Demeter,” Hanse said grimly. “Again, not an idiot, just… So many intelligent leaders who couldn’t get past their pride and anger at each other.”
They walked in silence, leaving only one set of boot prints behind them in the snow.
“We’re still weak in naval terms,” John said at last. “New construction’s almost caught up for our losses in the Hegemony but the last report has the Lyrans fielding over a hundred warships – half of them corvettes, but still, warships are warships.”
“Given we’re unlikely to wind up fighting the Lyrans directly, I’m not hugely concerned about that. If anything, it might keep their nearer neighbours looking their way.”
“I’m thinking of deep raiding, the sort of deniable attacks we had to deal with back in Simon’s reign. Amaris had a number of Mako-class ships so it would be easy to claim such ships were Republican remnants. The SLDF still has something like a thousand ships but most of them need dock-time and I don’t think the shipyards left in the Hegemony have the capacity for repairs.”
“Hmm, and Kerensky’s going to be reluctant to trust yards the SLDF can’t control after what happened to the destroyers Liao and Kurita were reconditioning.”
John nodded. “Refitting the Robinson-class transports into carriers will help coverage but right now it ties them up in docks. For the next year a sixth of our fleet will be laid up.”
“At least there are enough carriers to cover the key worlds. The losses were mainly in older escort ships. Even a single fleet carrier will shut down a raid by Makos with ease and there are sixteen in service now. It’s only a shame that Kurita and Liao have probably worked out by now that the refits brought the carriers up to a hundred and eighty on-board fighters.”
“It’s ironic.” John kicked against a tree to get some of the accumulated snow off his boots. “We’ve got enough capital ships now that escorting them is turning into a problem. It’s not something that we’ve had to worry about historically.”
“The Succession Wars aren’t something you had to worry about until I warned you. Please don’t stop creating back-up caches, just because we have a little good news. We’re not out of the woods yet.”
-
Just a little correction to make in the Paris chapter.
you use the verb form of hope (espère) in the french toast but you need to use the noun form (espoir) instead. The rest is pretty much correct.
-
Thanks
-
Houston, Terra
Alliance Core, Terran Hegemony
26 April 2775
The city, not as ancient as some on Terra but certainly older than anything on Ethan’s homeworld, was burning. A full wing of aerospace fighters had lunged south as the SLDF drove a spearhead into the port city and not all of them had been caught in time. Four of the seven missiles had been shot down by last-ditch air defines efforts and fortunately, that had included all of those that had been aimed for the port facilities on Galveston Bay.
That still left three that had struck among the towering skyscrapers north-west of the bay razing entire neighbourhoods. The death-toll was a nightmare and the fact it was a familiar nightmare for the SLDF just made it worse.
The Amaris Fusiliers had retreated into the burning ruins, trying to break contact in the clouds of choking and no doubt radioactive smoke. The 2252nd Battle Regiment and its supporting elements had the bit firmly in their teeth and the regiment lunged after them. Ethan couldn’t have stopped them if he’d tried.
In honesty, he didn’t.
A pair of Whitworths tried to ambush Ethan’s command lance as they pressed deeper into the city. Lasers and SRMs tore at his already savaged armour but fortunately for his ‘Mech’s temperature, the duo didn’t seem to be packing inferno SRMs that would have coated the Marauder with napalm.
Centring his reticule over the nearer of the pair’s left chest, Ethan triggered his lasers and autocannon, scraping away the armour around one of the missile launchers. Seeing that he’d breached, he paused a second to let the first pulse of heat from the weapons pass and then fired one of his PPCs into the ruined armour.
The shot blazed through the smaller Mech’s side and detonated ammunition stored within. The bin must have been almost empty, he judged coldly. The Whitworth’s right side was still recognisable as it crashed into one of the broken buildings.
Chapman had been provided with a Victor – fresh from Quentin’s restored construction lines and the Mechwarrior used his assault ‘Mech dealt with the second Whitworth in a brutal, two-fold attack. First the autocannon raked across the frontal armour, penetrating deep into the gyro, and then Chapman brought the left hand of the Victor around and caught hold of the Whitworth by the faceplate.
The impact may have stunned the Republic Mechwarrior, or perhaps the fusion reactor had shut down and he needed to restart it, but either way the Whitworth didn’t resist as Chapman closed the fingers of the Victor, ripping the front of the cockpit away.
The Mechwarrior within wasn’t killed outright, although Ethan doubted his lance mate cared much. But the controls were destroyed, leaving the Whitworth useless. And exposed to the firestorm of Houston, the Republican’s chances of survival were slim.
“Chapman, form on me. Stewart, where the hell are you?” Ethan growled. The third – and last – of the command lance’s current strength had been in the lead around the corner. If he’d been taken out, they should be able to see his Crusader.
“Sorry, sir.” The Mechwarrior sounded chastened as he backed the heavy ‘Mech out from between two standing walls. “I went for cover from them so I could concentrate on their leader.”
The framework of what had once been another Whitworth fell out of the alleyway.
“What the… did you pummel it to death?”
“Uh, more or less sir. I’m out of missiles.”
Ethan snarled inside his neurohelmet. Stewart was one of the newer Mechwarriors in the regiment, a youngster sent right out of training in the repeatedly abbreviated courses held in the Federated Suns into a RepDep holding battalion until he could be fed into units like the 2252nd. His fire discipline was miserable.
“Get back to the rear and re-arm,” he ordered tersely.
The Crusader seemed to slump. “I can still fight, sir.”
“You’ve a pair each of 5cm lasers and machine guns. Anything heavier than a Wasp would eat you alive. Go!”
Chapman covered Ethan as the Colonel re-focused on the bigger picture, the battle-computer mapping pulsed transponder signatures and giving him a rough layout of his command overlaid on a pre-war map of Houston. The contrast between map and reality was shocking, but he could tell that third battalion had pushed furthest north, potentially leaving an exposed gap between his two leading elements.
“Toriyama, hold in place until Wright is back on your flank,” he ordered, trusting that the less experienced battalion commander would take the hint and press further. “Pritchard, your forces are trailing, are the roads too much for them?”
“They’re barely roads any more with all the buildings down,” she reported. “Artillery’s having the same problem, and their lines of fire aren’t great.”
Ethan didn’t bother to ask about the infantry regiment assigned to him – they’d broken off to do building-by-building rescue work for the civilians as well as checking for Rim Worlds troops that might have gone to ground. “The 2256th report less damage near the river. Swing east through that area and rendezvous at Conroe. If you can get around fast enough then we might be able to bag the Fusiliers before they get into the forest.”
“Roger. We’ll lay some rubber on the roads.”
The transponders for third battalion were continuing to surge ahead and Ethan realised that Toriyama hadn’t acknowledged his last order. “Toriyama. Third of 2252nd Actual. Respond!” Nothing. He hit the regimental push. “Anyone in Third Battalion, respond!”
Half a dozen voices spoke up, voices crackling and breaking up. None of them sounded like Major Toriyama.
“Third battalion, hold your position. Relay to officers. Third of 2252nd is to hold their ground. First Battalion move up to the east of Third Battalion. Second Battalion move up behind.”
At last the transponders stopped pressing north and Ethan started his own Marauder again, joining up with Stephan Cage’s Second Battalion. The newest and youngest of his battalion commanders – barely in his twenties – Cage had risen meteorically through the 200th Dragoon regiment before losses storming the Cairo Castle Brian had forced the disbandment of his unit.
“Taking the pressure off them, sir?” Cage asked in a warning tone.
“We need to reconcentrate. If that means the Rimmers slow down then great,” Ethan explained. “I’m not counting on it, but I’m running a flank force up to Conroe – between us and the Sam Houston Parklands outside the city.”
“Got it. Permission to form Second into a skirmish screen for the regiment? We’ve not got eyes.”
“Do it, but don’t push too far ahead. If the Fusiliers get out of the city then so be it, there are Striker and Light Horse regiments that can run them down.”
The reason for Toriyama’s silence became apparent as they reached Third Battalion’s position. The Major’s Marauder was a limping wreck, one arm missing and the cockpit so mangled that it was a wonder it hadn’t killed the man inside. In the confusion of the chase, no one had realised the battalion commander had fallen silent until Ethan had brought them to a halt.
“All company commanders, detach anyone who’s running dry on ammo or with major damage,” Ethan ordered. “Any company commander who doesn’t know which of their people need to be sent back, find out fast and remember to keep a better eye on their people in future. Toriyama, you’ll need to go with them. I’ll take your battalion until you’re re-armed.”
The Marauder brought its remaining up in an awkward salute.
“And don’t accept any whining. We’re still thousands of kilometres from Unity City and we don’t need avoidable losses.”
More than twenty ‘Mechs fell out of ranks, leaving seventy-six ready to press on. Cage’s Battalion was in best shape with twenty-nine ‘Mechs – all jump-capable mediums well suited to the role he’d volunteered them for – and Ethan let the Major spread his force out ahead of the other two battalions.
“Wright, stay close to my right flank,” Ethan directed. “We’re pushing on Conroe. Anyone who gets separated should make for that assembly point or fall back to infantry’s position as the situation dictates.”
There were no further clashes as they crossed the worst of the ruins. Most probably the Fusiliers had wished to avoid prolonged exposure to radiation for any ambushers.
“Moreau, this is Pritchard.”
The message snapped Ethan’s head up from the heaped wreckage of an apartment block they were scaling. “Moreau. What have you got?”
“Got to Conroe about the same time as a company of skirmishers – Stingers and Locusts. Cleared them out but I reckon the rest of their regiment will be moving in shortly.”
“Good work, Pritchard. We’re on our way.” He switched channels. “Cage, we have confirmed engagement in Conroe. I’m cutting you loose to pursue, but report any contacts and for god’s sake don’t fire on our tanks.”
“I wouldn’t dare,” the young major retorted. “Pritchard’s gunner would drop me in an instant.”
The rest of the 225nd picked up the pace but their heaver ‘Mechs were falling behind Cage’s, having to climb over obstacles that Second Battalion simply jumped over.
“Cage to Moreau, there’s most of a battalion trying to wheel west around Conroe Lake. I’m moving to cut them off. If you can get up to Porter Heights there seems less damage and then you can catch the east side.”
“Good work, Major.”
The young battalion commander was right and the roads were clearer, clogged only by parked or broken down ground-cars as Moreau wheeled his forces through the Heights. From this position they could see artillery slashing southwards from Conroe and smashing down into the Amaris Fusiliers as the mix of ‘Mechs, infantry carriers and tanks tried to push out into the edge of the city and escape.
“Alright, 2252nd, there’s our target,” Moreau said sharply. “And remember to accept surrenders. Someone needs to be alive to make accounts to Houston’s people for this.”
Even moving at almost sixty kilometres an hour down the relatively uncluttered roads, they couldn’t reach the Fusiliers before the Rim Worlders recognised their plight and turned to fight. Their position was impossible though – fighting in either direction opened their backs to either Moreau’s Mechs or Pritchard’s tanks, and the artillery came down regardless – the gunners using SLDF transponders to judge where they shouldn’t concentrate their fire and where they should.
An ammunition carrier that had clearly been pressed into service for transportation burst into flames as Ethan fired his PPCs into it. Screaming men and women fled the truck-bed, some of them on fire.
With one cloven hoof, Ethan kicked a Turhan over on its side and then raked the rear of a Phoenix that had turned its back on him to fire at one of the Devil gun carriers in Pritchard’s force.
The smaller ‘Mech twisted to turn and face Ethan’s Marauder but that exposed it in the other direction and at least three gauss rifle shots caught it, tearing the left side apart, including the missile launchers. Despite this the other Mechwarrior managed to land a shot with his PPC, armour peeling away from the left shin of Ethan’s ‘Mech.
Firing its jump-jets, the Phoenix evaded the next volley fired at it, only for a single gauss slug from further away to punch into one knee. When the ‘Mech came down, its leg gave way and half-buried itself in what was left of a parking garage. Ethan used one of his PPCs to strip away the armour across its back and then fired the second directly into the reactor shielding. Although overloaded, the reactor wasn’t breached but safeties kicked in and shut down the ‘Mech – automatic systems calculating that ejecting the pilot wasn’t possible and that only rapidly cooling the engine could avoid an overly-energetic heat pulse if air penetrated the damage.
Looking around, Ethan saw few targets remaining. Even as he watched, a lone Fusiliers Cyclops cut the leg out from under a SLDF Hunchback with its autocannon only to fall prey to the smaller ‘Mechs own gun and tumble to the ferro-crete street. Seconds later, Major Wright’s Marauder melted the autocannon to slag with a pair of PPC shots directly into the Cyclops’ side.
The Rim Worlds officer dauntlessly tried to stand but a pair of Arrow IV missiles spiralled over the rooftops and isolated the ‘Mech. One blew off the right arm, the other caved in the chest and the command ‘Mech ceased to move.
“Sweep and clear,” Ethan ordered. “Cage, what’s your condition?”
“Pinned them on the shore and ran them into the water,” the major replied. “Could be half a dozen getting if they manage to walk under the bottom – I’m posting watchers.”
“Good work.” Ethan looked behind him at the columns of smoke rising from Houston. “One more regiment down,” he mused. “And with the port intact, we should have supplies coming in within forty-eight hours.”
.o0O0o.
SLS Prinz Eugen, New Avalon Orbit
Crucis March, Federated Suns
4 July 2775
Kerensky had sent a battleship to bring Helena back to the Terran Hegemony and she suspected the captain’s orders didn’t include giving her a choice. The Texas-class ship orbited near two blocky ships only two-thirds the size, its sleek shape a subtle rebuke to the largest ships in the Federated Suns Navy.
Angela Banacek-DeChevilier tilted her head in thought when Helena hesitantly asked about the relative capability. “At this range unless they caught us totally off-guard, the Prinz Eugen would tear them apart,” she said. “If they managed to keep outside range though, it would be another matter. Even with the two Titans escorting her, Eugen can’t put more than eighty birds in the air. Any Federated Suns carrier can double that easily.”
“Then why are they in such close orbit with us?” she asked cautiously.
“To show that they aren’t hostile.” The Lieutenant General folded her hands behind her back. “We gave them the hulls and by putting them this close, John Davion is letting the crew get a good look so they can report on what he’s done with them. If he held them out of range, that would suggest he was keeping the option of fighting on the table.”
“Oh.”
The head of her bodyguard smiled reassuringly. “You’re asking the right questions and it is a little bit of a reversal. Normally a House Lord moving capital ships this close to a SLN ship would be making a threat but the FSN’s different. Those ships might be the size of small battleships but they have less direct armament than some destroyers.”
Helena nodded and looked around the room they were in. She’d been assigned ‘flag quarters’ which she gathered were where an Admiral would have been living if there was one aboard the Prinz Eugen. It was still tiny compared to the hotel and guest suites she’d been living in as she visited refugee communities in the Federated Suns. Even the dropships she’d been on had been liners, very much invested in the comfort of their passengers.
The Prinz Eugen spared what comfort it could, but that wasn’t its purpose. It reminded her of the Gatcham, which was a warming thought, even if the ship itself had been lost ferrying an SLDF battalion across the Atlantic.
“Are you eager to go home?” Angela asked.
“Where’s home?” Helena sat on the bunk. “The town I lived in was burned to a crisp. Your mother’s ship is under a couple of hundred metres of water.”
“Not Unity City?”
She shuddered and shook her head.
Before Angela could say more there was a chime at the door. The Lieutenant General arched her eyebrows and tapped the comm unit at her belt. “Perimeter, who’s at the First Lord’s door?”
“SLDF officer to see you and the First Lord, ma’am. She’s carrying orders from the General. Captain Peabody has confirmed she’s genuine.”
“Give me a heads up, next time, whoever I’m with.”
“Sorry, ma’am.”
Helena checked herself in the compartment’s small mirror. Rather than try to compete with local fashions and suspecting that she’d be dealing with communities struggling financially, she’d bought a dozen plain but very well-made pant suits, all in black which went with anything. She thought she looked presentable and if anything she’d been outshone by many of those she was visiting. They might be refugees but they were communities, not camps – properly housed, mostly employed and beginning to assimilate.
At her nod, Angela opened the door and admitted a SLDF officer whose face looked slightly familiar. Helena guessed she was a little older than Angela but her rank pins were only those of a Captain. Where had she seen her before…?
“Lady Cameron,” the woman greeted her, saluting crisply…
“Captain…” Helena groped for a name and while that didn’t come, something about the salute brought where she remembered her from into focus. “You were with the Black Watch!” she exclaimed. “How are you even alive?”
“I was on leave.” He voice was hoarse. “My brother’s fighter had crashed the day before, he was in hospital.”
Thinking back to the last days before everything had changed, Helena could only shake her head. “Is he alright?” she asked, hopefully.
“No.” There was a flatness to that word that warned Helena off.
Angela offered her hand. “Lieutenant General Banacek-DeChevilier,” she offered in introduction. “I’m in command of the First Lord’s bodyguard.”
“Elizabeth Hazen.” The captain shook the offered hand and produced a data chip from her pocket. “My orders.”
“Could you summarise?” Helena asked as Angela slotted the chip into a noteputer.
“I’m Kerensky and her father’s spy on you.” Hazen seemed irritated at the notion. “Keith Cameron has made himself known to the SLDF, but you’ve been here in the Suns almost since we first heard you were alive.”
“I suppose that makes sense.”
Hazen’s face tightened. “Two of your cousins tried to act as rallying points for resistance. They got a lot of people killed. I hear you were with a resistance group as well.”
“No, that’s someone exaggerating,” Helena told her. “I was hiding and running. The closest I came to a resistance group was running away from a reprisal. I didn’t even know until afterward that I’d known some of the people involved.”
“So why weren’t you involved?” the captain asked with a slight edge of accusation.
“Captain,” Angela warned.
“My orders,” Hazen riposted. “Well, Lady Cameron?”
“Because I was afraid. I can add other excuses – no training, although I suppose most of the resistance didn’t either. And if even the slightest rumour of my location got out, Amaris would have stopped at nothing to find me. I think one of my cousins you mentioned was probably in Edmonton. They didn’t mention a Cameron in the media of course, but…”
“Yes. Virgil Cameron. My group had received some feelers from his before Amaris heard of him.” The city of Edmonton had been surrounded by a loose perimeter of troops and then levelled by orbital fire. Then the mercenary force Drabont’s Damned had swept through the city with orders to kill every man, woman, child and every animal larger than a cat. If in doubt, they’d killed the cats too. And after that was done, Edmonton was ‘salted’ with a cobalt-laced nuclear weapon. Amaris had proclaimed the city a new Gomorrah.
Hazen considered Helena and then continued: “It was probably for the best that you didn’t get more people killed. But you’d better get a handle on that fear. Within months you’ll have to face the Star League Council and they’re at least as dangerous as Amaris, in their own ways.”
“I’ve met the First Prince already.”
“You’ve met the face that he chose to show you, nothing more. Although he’s the best of them or so I’m told. Every one of them will be looking at you and asking ‘what makes her fit to lead us?’ Do you have an answer for them?”
“I don’t recall my fitness having anything to do with it,” Helena pointed out. “Richard wasn’t but I’m told General Kerensky was as regent, and my father…” She faltered. “I don’t remember him and no one’s likely to say ill of him but the point is, most of the Council don’t seem to have wanted to follow their lead either.”
“Huh. Well, at least you know what you’re getting into,” Hazen conceded. “Most Camerons come to the throne with a reserve of goodwill to carry them forward, at least in the eyes of the public. Your brother squandered most of that.”
“I think I can at least avoid most of his mistakes.”
“Yeah. Maybe you’ll do. Anyway, I have a list of places the General suggests you visit. Worlds the SLDF fought and bled to liberate. You’ll need to make speeches, I gather you can manage that?”
“I even have a speechwriter. It’s no fun, but nor was fighting for those worlds,” Helena said with a little heat. She’d probably met people from some of the worlds on the list.
Hazen gave her a look. “And nor was hiding out, I suppose. Anyway, I’m to join your bodyguard.”
“Happy to have you,” Angela told her with what seemed like something almost like sincerity.
Helena made a decision. “Actually, I want you on my staff.”
“You what?”
“My brother surrounded himself with people who told him what he wanted to hear. You don’t seem to have that problem. And you know Terra and were at the Court before the Coup.”
“I have orders from General Kerensky.”
“In theory I’m the First Lord and can give him orders. In practise, I’m going to ask him nicely.” Helena gave Angela a hopeful smile. “And I’m sure something can be worked out until we have an answer.”
-
Canada, Terra
Alliance Core, Terran Hegemony
3 September 2775
“Alex, it’s a trap!”
Aleksandr Kerensky was coming to the same conclusion as fresh fire poured down on his command group. Sergeant Truscott had his own ‘Mech now rather than back-seating Kerensky’s Orion and the young man moved the Atlas deftly to block shots directed towards the Commanding General.
“A trap that’s sprung, Aaron,” Kerensky ordered. “This is too good a chance to break through. We have the reserves we need to turn this back on him.”
“Fall back until we can support you.”
It was tempting, but even if he himself made it, there was a good chance most of his companions wouldn’t. The two hidden bastions that had revealed themselves were behind him, dividing him from the main strength of the SLDF. “I’m pushing on, out of their fields of fire. Break through and link up.”
“Dammit, Alex, you aren’t dispensable.”
“Of course I am.” He moved his Orion forwards. “Press on, we can’t stay here exposed to those bastions.”
It might be a trap on a tactical level, but local intelligence sources confirmed that Richard Cameron had begun work on something out here, three hundred kilometres southwest of what was now the Edmonton No-Go Zone and that Amaris had completed it. John Davion’s ever-efficient Ministry of Information claimed that it was identified as the ‘Imperial Palace’ – some sort of camouflaged redoubt that Amaris could withdraw to.
“Sir, we can’t break through the defences alone,” Truscott warned.
“We are never alone,” Kerensky told the boy. “And we are already inside the outer defences. But for now, we have a more immediate problem.”
BattleMechs were moving out of concealed hangers as more and more guns opened up in the distance – firing out at the Eighth BattleMech Division as they moved forwards under Aaron’s command. The entire complex must be surrounded by weapon emplacements and other strongholds, Kerensky realised. We didn’t scout nearly enough.
Most of the ‘Mechs bore the markings of the Fourth Amaris Dragoons – a regiment supposedly stationed in Unity City, thousands of miles to the west. Another deception, but they are among Amaris’ best.
“Break down the gates,” he ordered sharply. “Out in the open their numbers will tell.” His Orion could only manage sixty-four kph but it was faster than some of the other ‘Mechs in the force. The general swept his crosshairs onto one of the turrets overlooking the gates and fired his LRMs into it. The armour was heavy, but every BattleMech in his force was firing and the turrets were stationary targets, easy to hit.
Truscott’s Atlas and four other ‘Mechs were falling behind, the Dragoons closing in behind them. The gates were just ahead though and a Lancelot crashed its sixty-tons against the heavy metal, which bent but didn’t break.
A PPC scarred the right arm of Kerensky’s Orion before that particular turret was the recipient of no less than three shots from the Awesome beside Truscott. Glancing back, Kerensky saw the Atlas dig in one foot suddenly and wheel.
“Sergeant!”
“Get through!” the boy shouted. His ‘Mech turned and fired into the oncoming Amaris Dragoons. The large lasers in the left arm of the Atlas stripped armour off the side-torso of one of the Dragoons – the ‘Mech shared a name with the regiment it belonged with. The SLDF had encountered them in small numbers since Moscow’s liberation but there were dozens of them among the oncoming force.
With a cry of frustration, Kerensky flung his ‘Mech at the gates alongside the Lancelot. Their combined efforts broke it at last and they staggered into the inner gardens of the palace. All that lay ahead of them was an admittedly regal building… and trotting almost casually towards them from around one side, a single ‘Mech.
“Get inside!” he shouted to his men. The narrow gate only admitted them a handful at a time. A few turrets were swivelling to fire into the garden but none seemed to have the necessary arc. A weakness Amaris must regret.
Outside, the Awesome – Jerome Winson’s ‘Mech - had turned to join Truscott. Another youngster barely out of training, but the other slower ‘Mechs were also turning, forming a bulwark against the onrushing Dragoons as their comrades scrambled through the gates.
Weapons fire crashed against them though – Truscott’s ‘Mech was little more than outline as the fire of missile salvos crashed repeatedly against it, outlining the Atlas in fire.
The Atlas II was perhaps the finest and strongest BattleMech design in the SLDF. But it wasn’t invincible. First one ammunition store blew out and then the other, panels directing the force out the sides of the ‘Mech rather than through the reactor but that gutted the weapons linkages and the mighty ‘Mech fell silent, unable to reply.
That didn’t slacken the fire directed at it and the head erupted, an ejection seat rocketing up and over the battlefield as the assault ‘Mech finally fell to the ground. With their customary viciousness, one of the Dragoons brought its guns up to bear on the parachute deploying to give Truscott a safe, if not pleasant descent back to the ground.
The ‘Mech never had the chance to fire as Winson fired all three of his PPCs into the ‘Mech, the impacts spinning it half-around and then face-first onto the savaged grass. While it struggled to rise, Truscott’s chute was out and Kerensky saw that he was angling it to make his descent as fast as possible – conveniently the wind was blowing him back over the wall.
Kerensky turned towards the one oncoming ‘Mech. A Cyclops in Republican colours. No, he saw the main gun built into one hip and picked out the exact type. A Royal Cyclops, identical to that he’d given to John Davion. One of Amaris’s senior officers.
“General Kerensky.” The voice that came from its own loudspeakers was tired. “I don’t know how you found us.”
He raised the Orion’s guns and saw his bodyguards bringing their own weapons to bear. “It hardly matters,” he replied in the same fashion. “Now stand down.”
“I think not. The Dragoons can break past and probably slaughter you before your reinforcements get here.”
“Even if they manage it then you die anyway. DeChevilier will finish this.”
The other Mechwarrior grunted. “Yes. And many on both sides will die.”
Kerensky frowned. “What are you suggesting?”
“You and I.”
“A duel? You cannot be serious.”
“If I win, a dropship is permitted to depart for Unity City before fighting resumes. If I lose, the soldiers here will surrender.”
“Who are you?” he demanded.
“General Scoffins, commanding general of the Amaris Empire Armed Forces.”
Kerensky paused and looked around. More than a dozen ‘Mechs were through the gates but almost as many were down and not all had ejected. “Order a ceasefire then.” He switched to SLDF channels. “All units, cease fire. Aaron, have the Eighth wait. Only fire if fired upon.”
“What the hell, Alex? What’s going on?”
The volume of fire was already dying down. After a moment it had died to a single Archer which persistently fired LRMs into the staggering Awesome that was all that remained of the defensive line. Winson’s one PPC spat back… and then no less than four PPCs lashed out from Amaris ‘Mechs and joined it, cutting down the Archer rather than the SLDF ‘Mech.
Discipline, Kerensky admitted, even if not the sort he would have wanted within the SLDF. “We have a ceasefire, Aaron.”
“Why does that worry me?” his old friend asked rhetorically. “You can’t trust them.”
“In this, perhaps I can. Scoffins is here. Amaris cannot be far.”
“What’s their angle?”
“If I lose, then one dropship may depart – but only so far as Unity City. Once that is gone, you will have to take over.”
“If you lose what? Dammit, you’re not a green lieutenant! This is -”
“That’s an order, General.”
There was a long, pregnant pause. “Don’t make me take bad news to Katyusha,” Aaron growled at last. “I’ll hold the Eighth back for now. If nothing else, it’ll give time for the rest of the Corps to get into position.”
“Thank you.”
“Don’t thank me. This is still the stupidest thing you’ve ever done. DeChevilier out.”
Kerensky looked his opponent over. Scoffins’ Cyclops was twenty percent heavier than his Orion, with better armour and it was unscathed while he’d taken minor damage besides the PPC hit to his right arm. Their armament was fairly similar – a laser in each arm, two missile launchers (one SRM, one LRM) and a ballistic weapon above the right hip. At anything but point-blank range the Cyclops’ gauss rifle would have a slight edge over his own KaliYama autocannon. Their mobility was about even and so was heat dissipation – his ‘Mech’s heatsinks had been upgraded when he was at the War Academy on Mars. God, fifty years ago?
“Are you ready, Scoffins?”
“I am.”
The two faced each other, Kerensky’s mind flicking back to duels of the past. In training on Mars and on Paris in the Combine, where it had been all too real.
On an unspoken signal the two commanding generals started trying to kill each other. Scoffins was no fool, back-pedalling as he fired everything. They were two hundred metres apart – near optimum for such an alpha strike, and the old Orion registered protests as the gauss rifle slug shattered the armour still on its right arm and LRMs battered at armour plating. Kerensky had flung up the limb to shield his cockpit and wasn’t surprised to see that Scoffins had aimed high – a cockpit hit was smart to play for. The lasers and SRMs had fallen short though and Kerensky had let the other man move first in order to judge his movements.
Now he fired purposefully, first the LRMs, which scoured away armour on the right and centre chest and then the autocannon which hit a little higher than he’d intended but still just below the right shoulder of the Cyclops. The lasers bit into the centre chest and just below the autocannon damage. Only a single SRM struck home, the other three flying between arm and torso to detonate against the outside of the palace.
“Don’t fire on the palace!” Scoffins protested in alarm, still opening the range. This time he spare the lasers and SRMs – the range was marginal for them and it saved heat. This time the gauss rifle missed clean, but the LRMs reduced the right arm of the Orion to a barely functional stump.
Kerensky felt his teeth draw back. He’s not used to using his ‘Mech, he realised. There’s no need to spare the heat with decent heatsinks. Scoffins fights his wars from command centres and desks. “Don’t stand in front of it then,” he countered, moving forward suddenly so that his own left arm weapons could bear.
The laser bit into the centre chest but this time the SRMs all struck, cratering armour on the upper right arm and chest, one going high and blasting splinters from the helmet-like armour around the cockpit. The old general saw Scoffins twisting his ‘Mech and won his bet with himself – the man moved away from the palace and exposed his already damaged right side.
The KaliYama tore away the remaining protection around the gauss rifle and then Kerensky fired his LRMs. Only a few hit the ruptured armour but there was a visible flash as the gauss rifle’s charging capacitors discharged, frying myomers and control wires all across the right side of the Cyclops. The assault ‘Mech’s right arm hung limp, the laser there useless as the ruined weapon in what was left of the Orion’s corresponding arm.
Scoffins stabbed out his left arm, the laser smashing across the armour of the Orion just below the cockpit, obliterating the panel that bore Kerensky’s name and rank. Without the Gauss Rifle, he had the choice between trying a mid-range fight with only his long-range missiles or getting in close and hoping for a decisive strike point-blank.
Neither was a great chance, in Kerensky’s professional opinion, but based on Rim doctrine and training – Scoffins charged in, firing his LRMs first, while they had a chance to arm, and then everything else. Kerensky took the armour on the left side of his ‘Mech, judged it nothing worth worrying about and returned fire with his autocannon first, following it with laser and SRMs. Scoffins charge didn’t help his aim and the autocannon shots missed but the laser and SRM shots peppered the left arm the Rim Worlder had raised to protect himself.
Lifting his crosshairs to Scoffin’s face-plate, Kerensky triggered his LRMs – the missiles didn’t have time to arm and almost all of them missed but those that hit pummelled the protective glass and shook the man up as they closed into point blank range.
The Cyclops raised its remaining fist, firing missiles ineffectually before making a clumsy swing with the fist.
Kerensky turned his Orion adroitly aside to avoid the punch, firing his autocannon up and shaving away armour across the extended limb. Then he judged his moment and jerked the Orion forward, one heavy knee plate crashing against the side of the Cyclops’ left knee.
Armour plates cracked under that impact and while it wasn’t enough to take out the heavily armed limb – like his Orion, there was effectively two entire tons of armour wrapped around each leg – it knocked the heavier ‘Mech off-balance. Despite Scoffins’ efforts, ninety-tons of ‘Mech hit the ground (and an ornamental fountain that would probably only be useful for gravel now).
Before the other man could rise, Kerensky bent the Orion over and placed his crosshairs over the rear armour of the Cyclops, autocannon and lasers tearing away armour protection and revealing the missile ammunition bins inside. “Anything you wish to say, General Scoffins?” he asked, wondering if the man would surrender in hope of prolonging his life until the inevitable war crimes trial.
His reply was the Cyclops bracing its arm to flip itself over. Without hesitation he fired all four SRMs and the missiles detonated inside the larger BattleMech’s chest. Almost two tons of high explosives and propellants blew through the inside of the Cyclops, tongues of fire spearing up out of the hole he’d carved in its back, the rents in its right side – and the cockpit of the ‘Mech as General Patrick Scoffins received a warrior’s death.
Everything seemed to be moving in slow motion as Kerensky turned his Orion and faced the gates. He raised his one remaining arm and made a beckoning gesture to the Amaris Dragoons outside.
“Holy shit,” a reverent voice cut across the channels. “The old man did it.”
“Well, I am a gunslinger,” Kerensky grumbled on the open channel, feeling slightly embarrassed.
One of the Dragoons stopped moving and the cockpit cracked open. A moment later a Warhammer followed suite and then in a rush the rest of the Fourth Amaris Dragoons began to surrender.
“General DeChevilier,” he ordered as Jerome Winson moved his battered Awesome and to start herding the Mechwarriors away from their ‘Mechs. “Please bring the Eighth forwards. I believe the majority of the defenders will surrender now, but there may be holdouts.”
“Can I persuade you to wait until I get some infantry up before you go into the palace?” DeChevilier asked testily.
“Very well, Aaron, but please hurry them along. It is time Stefan Amaris and I had a… frank exchange of views.”
-
Nicely done, but I was curious about Kerensky's Orion: he's not running his custom job with a snub-nose PPC and a gauss rifle?
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pretty epic , very surprised but happy about the honer shown by the ameris dragoons
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Nice duel!
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Nicely done, but I was curious about Kerensky's Orion: he's not running his custom job with a snub-nose PPC and a gauss rifle?
I figure that was an upgrade done while the SLDF was in the RWR preparing to return to the Hegemony. Here they had less time there so that wasn't done.
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I figure that was an upgrade done while the SLDF was in the RWR preparing to return to the Hegemony. Here they had less time there so that wasn't done.
That certainly works, though it turns out the intro date for Kerensky's Orion is 2753, according to the MUL. Of course, that could simply mean an earlier departure date from the original timeline, too.
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I figure that was an upgrade done while the SLDF was in the RWR preparing to return to the Hegemony. Here they had less time there so that wasn't done.
or repairs which could not get ahold of certain weapons which were used before
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This remains one of the best Battletech fanfics I've ever read. The quirky premise could have been so easily gone wrong, but it works, and it's better than some of the official stuff out there.
Best of all, I suspect that the fall of Amaris will only end Book II, rather than the entire story, and I look forward to the chapters to come.
Keep it up, Drakensis
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Well done
I can't wait for "Stefan Amaris and Kerensky frank exchange of views.”
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Great read so far and its been been fun. nice change to end the fight with a duel and the old man to win for sure. Nice touch on telling the one lady that the star lord wants you on her staff and you do not have a choice. that was funny.
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Canada, Terra
Alliance Core, Terran Hegemony
3 September 2775
The inside of the Imperial Palace had taken some incidental damage - the floor covered by dust and fragments of the plaster moulding from the ceiling.
Apparently undeterred by this, a formally dressed man bowed to Aleksandr Kerensky as the general marched in through the front doors, a platoon of infantry behind him. “General Kerensky. The Emperor awaits you in the morning room.” A nod of his head indicated one of the doors.
“He is emperor of nothing,” Kerensky responded and jerked his head to the soldiers. Two of them seized the butler and hauled him aside.
Another pair of infantrymen threw open the indicated door and checked the room beyond. One of them turned back towards the general. “He’s here, sir. Should we…?”
“No. I will speak with him.”
The room faced to the east, light streaming through the windows and onto Stefan Amaris who sat in a chair styled very much like a throne.
“General Kerensky. It is quite some time since I summoned you from the Periphery.”
“I don’t come at your command, Amaris.”
“No, I suppose not. A trifle late for me to appoint you as my commanding general, even if the post just fell open.”
Kerensky was about to bark in anger at the man but instead he simply looked at him. Amaris had put on weight since they last met each other. His eyes were puffy and despite the sang froid he projected, there was no energy to him. “Was it worth it, Amaris?”
The fat man rose to his feet and crossed to look out of the windows. “You tell me, general. If you had joined me then perhaps we could have saved the Star League together. As it is…” He shrugged. “History will condemn me but everything I did was to fulfil the promise of the Star League.”
“You murdered the First Lord. You tried to eradicate House Cameron and targeted even the families of my soldiers.”
“How many of my family have you killed, Kerensky? How long have the people of the Periphery been treated as conquered vassals by the Star League even those of us who welcomed you.”
Kerensky crossed the room with quick strides, seized the usurper by the shoulder and spun him around. “If you really cared for a better, fairer Star League then your first message to me would not have been an order to crush your co-conspirators in the other territorial states. You grasped for power, nothing more. And you have failed.”
“Your armies are in retreat, your fleet has been smashed. Those worlds that remain to be liberated will surrender or face the same fate as those here on Terra. House Cameron endures and the Star League will emerge stronger than ever.” He pushed the fat man towards the door.
Stefan Amaris allowed himself to be manhandled without protest. “Oh, Alek, you’re so naïve,” he murmured, voice so low. “I told you that only together could we save the Star League. You may place your faith in John Davion but you will find him a poor substitute for my genius.”
The general pushed him out into the hands of waiting soldiers. “If the Star League needed you to save it, then it wouldn’t deserve to be saved,” he said with conviction.
.o0O0o.
Unity City, Terra
Alliance Core, Terran Hegemony
10 September 2775
A sequence of jumpships had ferried John Davion’s personal dropship from New Avalon’s star system to Terra’s in less than twenty-four. Travelling between the in system jump points and the planets had taken up another couple of days but even so he’d overtaken Helena Cameron and Keith Cameron, both still aboard warships that would require multiple jumps to reach Terra. He’d used the brief transit from the jump point to Terra’s surface to sleep – impossible while the repeated jumps took place – so he felt somewhat human again as the ship landed.
“I see you didn’t have to storm the city,” he greeted Kerensky at the drop-port. “I was worried about that.”
“Yes, although there are fewer civilians than there were last time I was here. We’re downstream from Mount Baker and it’ll be years before the water coming down from there is safe.”
John nodded, glancing up at the mountain that had housed the Court of the Star League’s primary defences until Amaris lost patience with the SLDF holdouts fighting and nuked the surface facilities of Fort Cameron. The mountain seemed literally defaced in comparison to his memories. “It’ll be a long time before what was done here can be forgotten.”
“If it ever should be.”
“I see no reason, that gunpowder treason…” he murmured.
“I beg your pardon?”
He shrugged. “Part of my cultural heritage, not yours.”
“What’s the next bit?”
“Should ever be forgot. Why?”
“It’s a catchy turn of phrase. I foresee many speeches in my immediate future. Do you think anyone would mind if I adapted it?”
“Well it’s about, hmm, eleven hundred years old. I doubt it’s still copyrighted anywhere,” John observed as they entered the waiting military helicopter. The door sealed hermetically and the Vector leapt into the air. There wasn’t much of a view but at least the compartment was configured with eight comfortable seats rather than benches to accommodate a platoon of light infantry. “Where did you find this? I didn’t think Jerricho were building anything but barebones transport versions so far.”
“They aren’t. This was the personal transportation of General Scoffins,” Kerensky explained, turning his seat to look at John. “Thank you for coming so quickly.”
“I assume it’s something that can’t wait for the Council meeting in three weeks.”
Hanse had commandeered one of the empty seats. “Amaris or something he did,” he guessed.
“There are a few matters I’d like to have in place before the Star League Council takes their seats,” the general told him. “Mainly SLDF matters.”
“Mainly?”
“If you don’t mind waiting, there are some others who’ll be present.”
“Of course not.” John leant back in his chair. “Your family are doing well, I hope?”
“Reasonably. It’s an adjustment for them. Speaking of which…” The older man gave him a sour look. “I’d prefer not to spread word of them around. There are almost certainly still Amaris loyalists…”
“And various others who might want to cause you harm indirectly. It’s not information I’ve been actively sharing, although I doubt it can remain hidden forever.”
“Nothing remains secret forever. It’s hard enough for them to have a father they barely knew of for ten years though. If I can keep the media away until at least Nicholas is old enough for an academy slot…”
John nodded in understanding and saw Hanse had a troubled expression. “I gather they’re both bright boys.”
“Yes. Much like your nephew Mark. And I take it you may expect grandchildren soon.”
“Not very soon, I think, but Joshua and Mary do have some weight of… dynastic responsibility there. I leave reminding them of that to my wife.”
Kerensky’s laugh was a short bark and then the Vector was descending and both men gripped their seats in reflex. Fortunately it was no more than arrival at their destination and when the ramp dropped, John saw that they’d landed in one of the many plazas of the city, outside a Bureau of Star League Affairs building.
“Without the need to govern the entire Star League, Amaris reassigned the original inhabitants,” the general told him as they hastened up the steps to the door, the first drizzle of rain coming down. Two uniformed and armed guards were waiting, a third opening the door for them. Lacking the Citadel, this’ll be the SLDF presence at Court for the immediate future.”
A lift took them to one of the upper floors and a moment later the pair of them entered a large conference suite. The lush carpet and wall panelling set it apart from the austere marble (or mirror-polished concrete) the SLDF usually preferred for their facilities but John thought it might make a pleasant change.
Awaiting them at the table were almost two dozen faces, many of them familiar. Army commanders and departmental heads. Men and women who John had thought would be on New Earth or spread across the Hegemony and beyond. “I hope I haven’t kept you all waiting,” he said lightly.
“I was only a half hour before you,” General Helmick replied mildly. “Although I did have to come just a little further.”
Aaron DeChevilier shook John’s hand and ushered him to a seat. “We need to make some decisions about SLDF deployments for the near future and a few other policy measures.”
John nodded in understanding. He was here in his capacity as Second Army’s commander then – although if they’d at least let him know that then he could have worn the right uniform. Possibly there had been some subtle hint in the summons he hadn’t picked up. He was still an outsider in some ways he thought. “I’d think a lot of the infantry and engineering units will be working on reconstruction for the immediate future.”
“We’ll come to that in a moment.” Kerensky took his own seat and opened a paper file in front of him. “First of all, we have a report from the forensic team in the Court.”
“The Court?” Helmick asked. “I may have missed something.”
“It seems that Amaris’ burial arrangements for the Camerons amounted to locking the door of the room he massacred them in,” DeChevilier said flatly. “Dozens of them were just left to rot on the floor of the throne room where they fell.”
“He cares nothing for anyone but himself,” Jack Lucas said flatly as the faces of those present who weren’t already aware reflected horror and disgust. “Everything and everyone, from his family to the faiths of the people of the Hegemony were simply ways to gratify himself.”
“The remains are sufficient for us to identify the majority of those present with a high degree of confidence.” Kerensky didn’t even have to look at the papers in front of him. “Death certificates of those confirmed as dead have been filed. The list includes Amanda Cameron, her mother Elise and Richard’s eldest sister Elizabeth Cameron. The succession of House Cameron therefore passes to Helena Cameron. The next unidentified Cameron in succession is Jason Cameron-Bashina who was tenth in line, however there is reasonable cause to believe he was present for the massacre and among the bodies not currently verified. Absent evidence to the contrary, this would leave Keith Cameron as the next in line after Helena.”
“He’s at least interested in what we’re doing. More so than Richard.” McGuinness leant forwards and looked down the table to John. “What about Helena? You rushed her off to the Federated Suns for almost a year and almost none of us have seen anything of her since before the Coup.”
“She’s made a reasonable start at resuming a public life dealing with Hegemony refugees in the Federated Suns,” he reported. “How she’ll deal with the weight of leadership I couldn’t say – she’s had very little opportunity to exercise it. I’d say on the whole that she’s a fairly sensible young woman with laudably little interest in personal power, so perhaps no great inclination to abuse it.”
“Not exactly the things a great leader is made of.”
“Richard Cameron believed he was a great leader,” Lucas shot back. “Someone with more humility would be a step in the right direction.”
“The point is moot. Helena Cameron will be inaugurated as Director-General and First Lord next month,” Kerensky dictated. “We will offer her our full support, is that understood?”
No one seemed willing to contest his glare.
Closing the folder, Kerensky opened the second. “The next question is the disposition of Stefan Amaris and his family. With respect to General Davion, I prefer not to leave the matter until the Star League Council assemble.”
“I quite agree. Presenting them with a fait accompli is preferable,” John said.
Hanse walked over behind Kerensky. “I’m surprised he’s still alive. Kerensky killed him within a day of finding the Camerons.”
“Amaris’ senior officers and officials will be facing war crimes tribunals as soon as the civilian government is sufficiently reconstituted. It has been suggested that Amaris and his family should face the consequences of their actions without waiting for this.” Kerensky steepled his fingers. “Your opinions?”
“Old testament justice.” Unsurprisingly that came from Lucas. “An eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth.”
“The Usurper and those who held posts, yes,” Tatjana said thoughtfully. “There are children though. Some hadn’t been born when the coup took place.”
“Many of the Camerons killed were also children,” argued DeChevilier. “The law of war is enforced by reprisal. As the Camerons were killed, so too should House Amaris end. Humanely if possible, but it must be done.”
John cupped his chin in thought as the officers debated.
“No one protested Amaris’ death or that of his family,” Hanse advised solemnly. “A few former Republic worlds don’t hold Kerensky in great respect but even there Stefan Amaris’ name is mud.”
Maybe, John thought. But there were no descendants left to try to argue in favour of their House. If some are left…
“If we spare them now, we’re just forestalling the inevitable,” General Chudzik said reluctantly. “I believe that when their descent became known, the children would likely be lynched, such is the infamy of their family now.”
“Could we smuggle them away? Give them a fresh start in orphanages under false names?” Baptiste gave John a hopeful look.
“Where would you draw the line? Teenagers? Elementary school children? Or only spare the ones too young to recognise their own family name?” he asked drily. “It’s hard to expect discretion from children.”
“The situation in the Rim Worlds remains… tumultuous. I do not believe it is definite that House Amaris, were some to be spared, could not someday return to power,” Kerensky said reluctantly. “I cannot allow a situation where that would take place.”
Hanse opened his mouth and then shut it as John gave him a quick glare. Lucas seemed to be the only one who caught the look and his brow furrowed in thought.
“The only way I can see for you to avoid that, General, is for every Amaris old enough to know their own name to be killed and any spared should be reported as executed. Are there even any children among them who aren’t old enough to speak?”
“Two of his grand-children,” Baptiste said quietly.
Kerensky looked around the table. “Very well. I shall give the order.”
“Let us at least meet with the forms of the law,” John proposed. “The SLDF is acting as the government of the Hegemony for now. Draw up a warrant of execution for House Amaris and we should all sign it.”
“It is my responsibility, General Davion.”
“Respectfully, General Kerensky, that’s your messiah complex speaking. And my wife tells me I should be an expert in those. If you choose to spare the younger children then take responsibility for their lives, don’t claim it for deaths that no one here has spoken against.”
Kerensky stared at John for a moment and then looked around the table. Seeing agreement he opened a keyboard and typed for a minute. A printer spat out a single sheet of paper and there was a brief scramble for pens, not everyone having expected to need one. John wound up sharing his, having long since learned to carry two just in case.
When the paper reached him, John read its contents quickly.
We, the undersigned, constituting the highest members of the military provisional government of the Terran Hegemony as of this date (September 10, 2775), do hereby condemn to death Stefan Ukris Amaris, his family and all members of House Amaris under the laws of war on charges of conspiracy, high treason and regicide. Sentencing is to be carried out at the discretion of the Commanding General of the SLDF.
He added his name to those already there and passed the document and pen to the next recipient.
A measure of tension seemed to leave the room as the document was returned to Kerensky, who folded it once and tucked it away.
“Sort out the burial arrangements,” Hanse advised quietly.
“It occurs to me that any burial site could be contentious, but the lack of a body could be taken as evidence that the Usurper’s execution wasn’t genuine,” John advised. “May I recommend that while the rest of his family’s remains are disposed of discreetly, Amaris’ own remains be donated to a medical school – the Nagelring perhaps? House Steiner have no grounds to ever support a resurgent House Amaris and there’s nothing glamorous about a cadaver.”
.o0O0o.
Unity City, Terra
Alliance Core, Terran Hegemony
1 October 2775
It had been nine years since the Star League Council had assembled and they’d all aged. Takiro Kurita, of course, was no longer present but there was no real disruption in Minoru’s presence - he’d deputised for his father more than once.
It occurred to John that he’d been part of the council longer for more than half his life now – longer than almost all of them, although both Robert Steiner and Minoru Kurita were more than a decade older. Kenyon and Barbara were in their forties now, making Helena the youngest by a good measure.
Eight seats were occupied at the great curved table. Nicoletta Calderon sat shamelessly besides Minoru Kurita and while David Avellar hadn’t arrived himself, he’d appointed a representative. John had feared that it would be Allyce, but instead the young President had sent his uncle Simpson. Which was ironic, to say the least. The man spent at least half his time looking nervously at the SLDF guards, as if expecting them to suddenly place him under arrest.
“As Director-General and First Lord I call this meeting to order,” Helena said softly.
“I object.” Minoru Kurita rose to his feet abruptly.
“Well that didn’t last long,” Hanse told John.
“First door on the left,” Nicoletta instructed the Coordinator, looking entirely too smug. “But you really should have gone before the meeting.”
Minoru turned his glare upon the only slightly younger Taurian for a moment before returning his gaze to Helena. “You have not been confirmed as either Director-General or as First Lord,” he chastised her. “It’s presumptuous for you to expect us to yield to you.”
The young Cameron didn’t – to John’s relief – stammer or apologise. “I shall defer to the senior member of the Council to call us to order if it makes you happier, Lord Kurita,” she responded politely.
“As you do in all cases I suppose,” he said with a glance at John.
“Lady Calderon, if you would be so good?” Robert Steiner said slyly.
The sneer on Minoru’s face froze and he gave the Lyran a disbelieving look. With an excellent view of this John had to refrain from laughing and Hanse wasn’t so discreet. “That would be correct,” he conceded mildly. “Lady Calderon has been a member of the council for longer than anyone else here. In fact, longer than any two of us combined.”
“Since you were barely out of diapers, Lord Davion,” Nicoletta responded tartly. “Very well, I call the Council to order. Since Lord Kurita is on his feet shall we begin by recognising his accession as the representative of the Draconis Combine?”
“As long as no one expects the usual moment of silence,” Kenyon Marik added. “It’s been eight years since we lost Takiro and Richard. I expect any grief has run its course by now.”
“We do not always share the… hot feelings for our fathers that lay between you and Ewan Marik,” Minoru growled.
Robert laughed shortly. “Which didn’t mean we were fond of Ewan himself. Sit down, Lord Kurita.”
Barbara Liao gave Nicoletta an appealing look and when all she got was an amused look she cleared her throat. “Does anyone wish to object to Lord Kurita? No?” As no one else spoke up in her brief pause she bowed her head slightly. “Welcome to the Star League Council, Lord Minoru.”
The Coordinator bowed stiffly. “Madame Chancellor.”
“Now, if we can similarly affirm Lady Cameron then I can hand off the already tedious obligations of seniority.”
“I object,” Minoru said again, although at least he remained seated this time.
John rubbed his forehead. “Really?”
“You may wish your puppet on the throne of the Star League, Lord Davion, but the rest of us are less sanguine. How do we know she is the real Helena Cameron?”
“There was a blood test -” Helena began, only to be cut off.
“A simple medical test can establish that,” Robert Steiner answered. “It has probably already been done unless General Kerensky has been tardy in his obligations again. But she did spend several months on New Avalon, how can we be sure she is acting of her own accord?”
“Just what are you accusing me of?” demanded John, trying to keep his voice level.
“No one is making any accusations,” Kenyon Marik said coldly. “Merely considering all possibilities, as we should. Independent medical examination can presumably verify Lady Cameron’s identity – which I do not personally doubt – and ensure she’s acting of her own free will.”
Helena shook her head. “All of which can be readily arranged, Lord Marik.”
“More pressingly,” the Captain-General continued, “There is the matter that no public vote has been held to affirm her position as Director-General, which is in fact the law of the Terran Hegemony. I accept that Lady Cameron – once verified in her identity and fundamental competence – should act as temporary Director-General. Anything more must await her formal election.”
Barbara looked to her right at the rigid face of Helena and then to her left, past Robert Steiner at John. “I should imagine that General Kerensky has arranged any medical tests necessary. Shall we call him in to confirm this, at which point with our membership at least provisionally complete we can move on to other matters?”
“Why not? We’ll want to hear from him on other matters,” agreed Robert.
“Do I hear any objection?” Nicoletta asked mildly. When not even Kenyon demurred, the Protector turned to one of the guards flanking the door. “Do be a good boy and fetch the Commanding General. I’m sure he’s somewhere nearby.”
The guard stiffened at the disrespectful tone but he also activated the radio in his helmet and tersely relayed: “The Star League Council requests the presence of the Commanding General.”
“Orders,” Kenyon corrected. “Not requests.”
The guard stared at him in mute defiance and then touched the side of his helmet. “General Kerensky will be here directly.”
Less than a minute later the double doors opened and Kerensky marched in. “First Lord, honoured Council members.”
“A little premature there,” Minoru murmured. “General, perhaps you can lay some concerns to rest. Has it been established that this is in fact Helena Cameron?”
Kerensky scanned the room, eyes notably harder as he looked at Nicoletta and at Simpson. “Forensic evidence has confirmed her identity with respect to both her parents and her siblings, yes.”
“And,” Robert leaned forwards. “Have checks been done to ensure that she isn’t under chemical or other means of compulsion?”
“That is a little out of the ordinary as a requirement,” Kerensky replied. “At least two past members of the Council were routinely too intoxicated to be considered in a fit state to operate motor vehicles, much less the machinery of state. However, full medical examinations have been carried out by the SLDF for both surviving members of House Cameron and they’ve been judged to be in full possession of their mental faculties.”
The reference visibly stung Kenyon Marik, although Minoru Kurita shrugged off the reminder of a violent encounter one hundred and seventy-one years before when one of Kerensky’s own ancestors had been stabbed to death protecting Nicholas Cameron from a drunken Leonard Kurita in this very chamber. “Thank you, general. Your word on the matter is quite satisfactory, which leaves only the question of public election for Lady Cameron.”
“That can be arranged, Coordinator.” Helena’s voice was surprisingly firm. “I will arrange for an election to be held concurrently with the Congressional elections in January. The people of the Hegemony will have their say then, between myself, my cousin and whoever else may be put forwards. Until time however, I’ll exercise the full authority of my office. Is that clear?”
Kerensky clenched his teeth. “There is precedent for waiving an election in the needs of a crisis. Ian Cameron did so when faced by the September Revolt in 2549.”
“Thank you, General,” she told him. “However I am electing not to exercise that option. House Cameron’s credibility has already been damaged in recent decades. I will not rule as a tyrant.”
“I believe we can manage without a formal First Lord for a few months,” Robert added. “We have for the last nine years, after all.”
“I’m sure you’ve managed very well, Archon,” John observed. “How far has your realm’s GDP dropped since ’67? Ten points? Fifteen?”
“That’s beside the point.” The Archon made a dismissive gesture. “In any case, we have other matters to deal with.”
“Very true,” Kerensky rumbled from where he stood between the tables.
“Indeed.” Steiner steepled his fingers on the table. “I move that General Aleksandr Kerensky be removed from his position as Commanding General of the SLDF, effective immediately.”
Later John would ascribe Hanse’s warnings – and the ghost’s cry of “Don’t do it!” – as the only reason he didn’t throttle Robert on the spot. He was sure neither of the guards would have stopped him.
Instead he simply slammed the flat of his hand against table. “On. What. Grounds?” His voice was low and angry, cutting across the room.
“I would think that it was obvious.” Marik gave him a triumphant smile. “More than ten years ago we charged the General to subdue the rebellious Periphery. Can you see what a wonderful job he has done? Five states of the Star League are in shambles, the army and navy he has been entrusted with are a shadow of their former selves and an upstart from the far reaches of space actually lorded it over Terra for the better part of a decade.” He began to clap slowly. “Bravo, general. Bravo. Whatever will you do next?”
“Spoken like someone who has never gone to war,” John snapped.
“I disagree with Lord Marik.” Minoru Kurita stroked his moustache thoughtfully. “But only in part. I recall that the good General protested the admission of Rim Worlds soldiers to the Hegemony, which was indeed wise of him. However, his response to the crisis was… insufficient. What was called for was a rapid and decisive strike at the core of the problem. Instead General Kerensky has dragged his feet while Terra and many of her oldest and most populated worlds suffered under the heel of the Usurper.”
“I very much agree,” Robert nodded. “Too much time empire building in the Periphery and not enough attention to the Star League’s central affairs. But that was a pattern during your regency, wasn’t it, General? Had you paid more attention to young Richard then this entire matter might have been avoided.”
“I offered then to resign my military duties,” Kerensky pointed out drily. “Your father – the fathers of most of you in fact – refused to allow me.”
“A mistake we can now make good.” Kenyon Marik lifted his water glass and raised it in ironic salute to Robert. “The Archon has proposed the measure and I second it. Lady Calderon, call the vote.”
Nicoletta nodded. “I’m so sorry, general,” she said insincerely. “On the question of relieving General Kerensky of his post, an aye vote is for his dismissal and a nay for his retention. In order of seniority, my lords?”
“Nay,” John said firmly.
“Aye,” said Robert and all eyes went to Barbara Liao.
Helena won’t support removing Kerensky, not unless she’s suddenly gone mad. Even if she’s not officially able to break ties, three votes won’t pass the measure, John thought. Barbara though…?
The Chancellor lifted her own water and sipped thoughtfully. “On balance,” she said after she’d lowered the glass, “I am grateful for your years of service, General.” And then she shook her head. “But it’s time for new blood at the top. I vote aye.”
John slumped back into his chair as Kenyon and Minoru cast their votes and made Helena’s almost plaintive “Nay” meaningless.
“Thank you for your time, Mister Ke-” Kenyon broke off as Kerensky stared him in the eye. Slowly, the general held the gaze until the younger man looked away. Minoru Kurita lowered his gaze rather than meet those gorgon eyes. Nicoletta mouthed something indistinct when it was her turn and when it was Simpson Avellar’s turn he shrank back into his chair like a mouse.
John opened his mouth to speak but closed it as Kerensky shook his head slightly and pulled the Star League badge from his uniform, folding it in one hand.
Robert Steiner was the next victim of the dreadful look that pinned the Archon in his chair, leaving him visibly shaking. Barbara Liao received the look with pale determination but lowered her face, examining her hands clasped in her lap.
At last Kerensky looked to Helena Cameron. Reaching up without looking he stripped off his rank pins and placed them together upon the table before the young Director-General. One at a time he pulled medals and certifying badges off, heaping them before her. The last was his gunslingers badge, placed on top. Facing her on the table, the general reached over and took the woman’s hands, moving them to the little stack of honours.
Then, without another word, Aleksandr Kerensky turned and walked from the council chamber. The guards snapped to attention for him and the doors closed behind the man with barely a whisper.
The eight people of the table all seemed to struggle to find something to say. Hanse seemed similarly speechless.
John broke the silence, rising to his feet. “Sergeant,” he called to the nearest guard. “Come here a moment.”
“General Davion?” The man took two steps forward.
“Just hypothetically, if General Kerensky had called for a firing squad, how long would it take for there to be a squad of armed guards in here?”
“Thirty seconds maximum.”
“Not bad. And if he’d… no, never mind. Unfair question. Thank you Sergeant.”
“What – ?” asked Kenyon. “What were you going to ask?”
John glared at him. “Your father, at his drunken worst, couldn’t have made more of a fool of himself.” He pushed the chair away. “I suggest an adjournment.”
“On what grounds?”
“I think the Archon needs clean pants,” suggested Hanse.
“I asked the same question a moment ago, Chancellor,” John shot back over his shoulder. “Apparently, because some people don’t seem to realise what was stopping that man from having us detained or executed.”
“What was?” asked Simpson in a small voice.
The door opened before John and both guards saluted him. “Not a ****** thing.”
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******. I have much more to say, but need a real keyboard, not my phone.
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I think, John made the point that everyone else in the room missed... SLDF was and is still extremely loyal to Kerensky, and would have done anything he asked of them, no question asked.
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Awesome chapter. That last scene was amazing.
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Exactly.
I could easily see this turnkng into something akin to the Empires Aflame setting, with a semi-intact Hegemony, the Star League still in basic collapse, and varying alliances between its former member states, with the current split seeming to be the Terran Hegemony and Federated Suns versus the Combine, Lyrans and FWL. Given the advances of the Fed Suns in this setting, a more intact SLDF, and the continued fanaticism of most of its troops, I don't think those who voted for removing Kerensky will be too fond of the outcome.
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Wow, what a scene! I cant see her letting him go though and sort of am assuming that she will retain Kerensky as a "adviser" of sorts. Also, they do not seem to realize that John is a highly respected and loved commander himself and that makes one wounder...
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I loved the scene, but I will say an opportunity was missed when the Sergeant addressed John as "General Davion".
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And that is hugely significant because it means that they accept John as one of their own. That means to them he's a Star League General first and a council member second.
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Exactly! And seriously, they removed Kerensky, and didn't consider doing so would put DeChevalier in charge? He's the most loyal one of the bunch!
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Unless the Council needs to approve the new Commanding General, which I don't recall. They may also just try sacking DeChevalier, too.
Oh, hell. Could you imagine them maneuvering to put "General Davion" in charge, thus hoping to divide loyalties or sow discord in the SLDF and point them away from the other Council Lords, while simultaneously taking out the longest serving voting Council member?
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THAT would be hilarious! And with Hanse advising him, I think John would run the table on them...
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Oh, it would completely backfire, but they don't know that.
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As has been so far -- this is marvelous.
My one minor complaint...
“What – ?” asked Kenyon. “What were you going to ask?”
John glared at him. “Your father, at his drunken worst, couldn’t have made more of a fool of himself.” He pushed the chair away. “I suggest an adjournment.”
“On what grounds?”
“I think the Archon needs clean pants,” suggested Hanse.
“I asked the same question a moment ago, Chancellor,” John shot back over his shoulder. “Apparently, because some people don’t seem to realise what was stopping that man from having us detained or executed.”
It's really not made very clear who's saying this. At first it seemed like Kenyon, then Hanse makes the implication it's Robert, then, of course, John makes it clear that it's Barbara.
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Unless the Council needs to approve the new Commanding General, which I don't recall. They may also just try sacking DeChevalier, too.
Oh, hell. Could you imagine them maneuvering to put "General Davion" in charge, thus hoping to divide loyalties or sow discord in the SLDF and point them away from the other Council Lords, while simultaneously taking out the longest serving voting Council member?
Actually depending upon how seniority works in the SLDF, John might have seniority on DeChevalier if his time served as a Marshal in the AFFS counts.
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Probably not, and unlikely the rest of the council would want a Davion in command of the entire SLDF. More likely they go with DeChevalier IMO
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Unless the Council needs to approve the new Commanding General, which I don't recall. They may also just try sacking DeChevalier, too.
Either First Lord or the Council I think. Which make De Chevalier Acting Commanding General. Which also makes it so they can't sack him without appointing first - thus making themselves total clowns. Because Council do not command SLDF, they command Commanding General.
Well, they can appoint somebody else to do purges... like hell they would agree on who though.
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Probably not, and unlikely the rest of the council would want a Davion in command of the entire SLDF. More likely they go with DeChevalier IMO
Oh, yes true, but the SLDF probably has rules about recognizing the time you served in House militaries and thus they can make the argument that he has seniority, just to scare the other council members
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Beautifully written and you captured K perfectly.
I love John is still the 2d Army commander.
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Unless the Council needs to approve the new Commanding General, which I don't recall. They may also just try sacking DeChevalier, too.
Oh, hell. Could you imagine them maneuvering to put "General Davion" in charge, thus hoping to divide loyalties or sow discord in the SLDF and point them away from the other Council Lords, while simultaneously taking out the longest serving voting Council member?
8) 8) 8) 8) 8) :D :D :D :D :thumbsup: :thumbsup: :thumbsup:
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In addition to the SLDF, let us remember that the Davions now have a battletested army and navy. A fight will not go well for the others.
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Unity City, Terra
Alliance Core, Terran Hegemony
2 October 2775
After spending the evening writing and re-writing a letter to Edwina – even by the time he abandoned the effort and went to bed, he hadn’t managed a version that didn’t descend into lambasting the rest of the Star League Council as feckless idiots – John hadn’t expected to be woken early the next morning. Hot coffee had him in some semblance of attentiveness as he entered the Court in response to the summons.
“General Davion! John!” Aaron DeChevilier called out as he entered.
“Aaron. Sorry, I’m still half-asleep.”
“How did you ever get through a military academy?” the general asked, jogging across the marble floor. He was in full uniform and looked almost criminally awake for the pre-dawn hour.
John snorted. “I was a lot younger then.” Where was Hanse? he thought. The ghost had excused himself the previous night and not yet returned.
“Weren’t we all – what happened yesterday?”
“Well, assuming it’s the second and the council meeting wasn’t a horrible dream, four of my peers decided to remove Kerensky from office.”
“That’s what I heard the first time but I thought someone was talking out of their arse. Why?” Aaron caught John’s elbow as they reached a corner. “Not the council chamber, Alex is in the throne room.”
“Aleksandr called the Council?”
“No one told you?”
“No. I just got told there was an emergency meeting of the Star League Council. Whatever constitutes an emergency.”
DeChevilier huffed. “Other than… what were they thinking?”
“I’m not entirely sure they were thinking at all. Well, maybe that’s unfair to Minoru and Barbara but the other two seem to shut off their brains whenever it comes to anything around him. The others… They didn’t even confirm Helena as First Lord. Stalling for something perhaps? I’ve no idea.”
“Great, well that’s just a -” DeChevilier broke off as they reached the doors. “Did they name a replacement?” he asked holding out a hand to forestall John.
“For First Lord or Commanding General? No to both. On paper I suppose that leaves you in charge although how much attention the General will pay to being dismissed I’m not sure.”
“Have you given any thought to a military coup?”
John gave him a sour look. “I’m not Amaris and I’m fairly sure Aleksandr isn’t.”
“More’s the pity.” Aaron opened the door for John, backing up so as to remain out of line of sight from within.
The throne room was only partially lit, the other Lords shadowy figures around the throne. There was no sign of Kerensky, just five silent figures. All of them looked up as John entered. He noted that Helena still seemed half asleep and she winced as Kenyon broke the silence. “What’s the idea of calling us all here at this hour, Davion?”
“I didn’t,” he replied, walking over to join them. “No Calderon or Avellar?”
“No. Well if you didn’t… who did?”
“There’s a limited number of people who can send out a summons.” John walked to the throne and studied it. “Richard was shot right here I’m told. Amaris would have been standing right in front of him…”
“Stop trying to scare us, Davion.”
A madcap urge arose in John to suggest that they’d been brought here to witness Kerensky declaring himself First Lord or something of the like. It probably wouldn’t be a very good idea, they might run off in a fit of paranoia or pull a sidearm. “If I wanted to frighten you, I could take you to any of a hundred cities and let you envisage your homes looking like that.”
“Ah of course, because you are a hardened warrior?” asked Minoru. “The mighty SLDF general… do you think they will follow you now that Kerensky is removed?”
“You probably should have considered that yesterday.”
Further debate was ended as Kerensky arrived. He wore SLDF uniform, probably not the same one as yesterday but still with no rank markings or medals. The man didn’t need them, he wore his authority like a cloak around his shoulders. Hanse followed him through the door, unnecessarily hastening his step to avoid the doors as they closed behind Kerensky.
Without pause Kerensky walked past the six of them and seated himself upon the throne. With a thrill of dismay, John saw that he was armed. An ornate laser pistol glittering with gems, the Cameron Star resplendent upon one side.
“My lords of the Star League,” Kerensky began. “Thank you for joining me this morning.”
“What’s this about?” Robert Steiner asked in a low voice.
“He’s not ordered a coup as far as I can tell,” Hanse told John hastily. “More’s the pity. He went back to his office and started sorting out his workload. Getting it ready to pass it off, I think.”
Kerensky lifted the pistol, finger outside the trigger guard and careful not to point the muzzle at anyone. “This is the very weapon of regicide,” he told them. “Amaris’ gift to Richard Cameron for Christmas, nine years ago. The weapon he used to kill the First Lord as he sat upon this throne.”
“Then again, how much planning would he need? A platoon to lock you lot up and keep you incommunicado until he had control of your capitals?”
John folded his arms. Kerensky declaring himself First Lord would be technically illegal, but he still had amazing popularity. If the Council were as intransigent as yesterday then it might even be for the best – much the way McKenna had seized power and reformed the stagnant Terran Alliance into the Terran Hegemony centuries ago. It seemed unlikely but if it did happen, best to throw the Federated Suns’ support him immediately.
“The weapon bears two emblems upon it.” Kerensky held it up to show them. “Here the Cameron Star, but here the Shark of House Amaris. Probably Richard thought it symbolised their friendship but the truth is that it symbolises this terrible conflict which we have seen. The Star League upon one side and Amaris’ so-called empire upon the other. So many people have been caught up in it, on one side or the other, indeed in many cases caught up between those sides with no more understanding of why it was happening than this weapon has.”
“Now that that conflict has passed it has left many thousands, indeed many millions of people adrift. Some are refugees or wounded soldiers.” Kerensky looked briefly at John, which he hoped was unspoken acknowledgement of the support the Federated Suns had offered to those groups. “But some are more helpless – people who were led into treason by those they had no reason to distrust. I speak now of the soldiers who served Amaris, both those from the Rim Worlds Republic and from the Terran Hegemony. Large numbers of them are in prison camps, sometimes having been there for years, and among the many roles that has been undertaken over that time has been the need to protect them from vengeful citizens.”
“I must now appeal to you as the leaders of the Star League. There are those amongst them guilty of war crimes and those men and women have been and continue to be brought to trial as swiftly as is consistent with justice. But many, both here and in the Republic are guilty of no more than the misfortune of having found themselves under Amaris’ lies and lacking the wisdom to see his tyranny before it was too late. It is my hope that you will ensure there is no reprisal against them.”
Barbara Liao seemed to relax slightly at these words. “These unfortunates have a fierce advocate in you, general. I am sure that Lady Cameron has no wish for her reign to begin in atrocities against helpless prisoners.”
“Well of course not,” Helena muttered and rubbed her eyes.
“One must admire your devotion,” Minoru Kurita observed mildly. His eyes focused shrewdly upon Kerensky. “Should we name you Protector of the Rim Worlds, as our fathers – excluding Lord Davion’s – once named you Protector of the young Richard Cameron?”
Hanse froze. “Oh that sly bastard!”
What? John wished he could ask openly.
Kerensky inclined his head almost regally, “I would be honoured by such a trust, Lord Kurita, but as a private citizen I lack the resources or authority to discharge a responsibility of such magnitude.”
“Nonsense. I am sure Lord Davion agrees with me that a man of your energy and capabilities is worthy of such elevation.”
“Wait, what are you talking about?” demanded Robert Steiner suspiciously.
John arched an eyebrow. “It’s early in the morning, Lord Kurita. I don’t quite follow your point.”
“Among the many matters that we must surely address is the governance of the Rim Worlds Republic,” Minoru pointed out. “We can hardly let such collaterals of House Amaris as the Sievers or Wongs take power, and Lord Steiner has expressed his concerns repeatedly about the instability of the provisional government. Well how can we better bring order out of chaos than by elevating such a deeply respected man to rulership?”
“What a wonderful idea!” Barbara announced swiftly. “I approve entirely of this. General – no, Lord Kerensky is the ideal choice to rule the Rim Worlds Republic… or Protectorate, should we say? After all, you’ve spent several years there already.”
John hesitated and then looked at Kerensky. “I wouldn’t force this on you, Aleksandr. But I must admit, Lord Kurita and Lady Liao make good points.”
“Absolutely not!” Steiner exclaimed. “We saw what a mess came of his regency.”
“And that was when balancing the obligations of also administering the SLDF. But we’ve now removed that from the equation,” pointed out Barbara.
“I have no particular desire for such an office,” Kerensky admitted thoughtfully. “But conditionally, I could see my way to accepting it.”
“You want more?” exclaimed Kenyon Marik. “An entire territorial state isn’t enough?”
“Given the post is more responsibility than it is privilege,” John shot back. “I take it that the condition is that of protection for Amaris’ soldiers.”
“One of them, yes. Those who wish repatriation to – or for those not born there, simple asylum within the Rim Worlds should be granted it with all dispatch.”
“I’m sure SLDF supply lines can transport them across the Commonwealth.” Minoru proposed and when Robert Steiner opened his mouth the Coordinator glared at him. “As freedom to travel across member-states is a right guaranteed under the Star League Accords.”
John nodded. “I’ll offer the same asylum within the Federated Suns for those wishing to make a fresh start.”
“And I,” concurred Barbara Liao hastily.
“She’s got an eye on the soldiers,” Hanse warned.
Kerensky nodded his acceptance. “I’ll also need to establish a reasonable military force to carry out effective protection of the Rim Worlds. The divisions garrisoning worlds bypassed in the push on Terra have been disarmed and their equipment warehoused. There’s enough there for me to equip a force of around the size Amaris admitted to ten years ago, nothing unreasonable compared to the forces of any other house.”
“Five or six divisions,” John allowed. “That seems reasonable.”
There was a pained squawk from Kenyon Marik and Helena Cameron rounded on him. “Captain-General, whatever your point is, please be less shrill.”
“Shrill!”
“I have a headache,” she told him abruptly.
“What you have is a hangover,” Marik sneered.
“I think we can agree to that condition,” Minoru said firmly. “So do we have an agreement.”
Kerensky shook his head. “One last point. I insist on confirmation of General DeChevilier as the new Commanding General.”
Liao and Kurita hesitated, looking at each other and then at John.
“Why are you looking at me? I can’t take the job, I have the Suns to govern. Just running one Army Group in a hands-off fashion stretched the available hours in the day.”
“We weren’t considering you for it,” Minoru told him. “Alright, General DeChevilier is a suitable choice as your successor. But perhaps you’d also be good enough to make a joint statement with us explaining that you’re stepping down as Commanding General in order to accept the position of Protector.”
“That isn’t quite how I remember yesterday,” Helena said suspiciously. “You dismissed him.”
“Terrible how rumours begin,” the Coordinator said blandly. “Obviously some of us had this in mind from the beginning.”
John folded his arms. “You want to put a good public face on it.”
“It’s far better for the Star League is it not?”
Kerensky placed the laser pistol on one arm of the throne. “Very well, Coordinator. Does the Star League Council so vote?”
“Aye,” Barbara offered and Minoru repeated the word.
Robert’s “Nay!” and Kenyon’s “No,” balanced the issue briefly as Helena and John exchanged looks with each other and with Kerensky.
John made a deferring gesture. “Ladies first.”
“Aye,” Helena said at last.
“I’ll make it official then,” said John. “Aye. And let me be the first to welcome you to the Star League Council, Protector Kerensky.”
.o0O0o.
West Point, Terra
Alliance Core, Terran Hegemony
3 October 2775
The ancient academy hadn’t been badly damaged since the North American East Coast had largely been bypassed in the fighting. Pro-Amaris propaganda posters had been torn down but there were still work crews removing some of the more embedded evidence of how West Point had been used to turn out officers for the Hegemony Patriot battalions.
“To answer the question that I’m sure is all burning in your minds,” Major General Marissa Miller began, “General Huong has advised me that he has nothing to add to the official version of events that General Kerensky has left the SLDF in order to accept the rule of the Rim Worlds Republic.”
There were a couple of disbelieving mutters from around the table and one low but carrying “Bullshit,” sing-songed from the direction of a certain Major Pritchard.
“Unofficially, my sources advise me that General Kerensky left the Court of the Star League two days ago without his rank insignia or his medals, that General Davion left a few minutes later in a steaming rage and that the first mention of there being a Protector of the Rim Worlds was the next day after an emergency session of the Council at the crack of dawn.” Miller shrugged. “Make of that what you will.”
“Someone had a gun to their heads,” Pritchard suggested.
“Make of that what you will, but in your own time, Major,” Miller corrected herself briskly. “We do have business to attend to.”
“Does that mean new orders, sir?”
Miller nodded. “It does. As you might imagine, Quartermaster Command have been making themselves heard on the subject of keeping the SLDF supplied when eighty percent of us are all on one world. We might be a drop in the barrel compared to twelve billion civilians but apparently it’s a very small barrel so by the end of the year, most of the army will be on their way to new postings.”
“Is that going to affect keeping the peace here on Terra?” asked Ethan Moreau. “Sixth Army’s still sitting on a powder-keg in Asia.”
“Much to General Chudzik’s relief, Sixth Army is being re-stationed to the Federated Suns,” Miller told him. “However, five armies will remain stationed in the Terran Hegemony to keep the peace during reconstruction. In theory, each army is responsible for one province but in practise, divisions will be operating wherever they’re needed. Seventh Army has been assigned to Lone Star province, which is fairly stable compared to some of the others so… I’m sure you can do the math.”
Moreau nodded. “Yes sir.” A few of the worlds near Terra had only been liberated shortly before the assault on the home world, but most of Lone Star province hadn’t been fought over. Amaris had done incredible damage when he withdrew his forces, but it had been five years and if they hadn’t really recovered there were at least planetary governments in place and the first edge of shock had passed.
“We aren’t just there to keep rioters under control though. There’s a long border with the Draconis Combine to keep an eye on, and Amaris did claim he was handing the worlds over to House Kurita. Given their historical stance on acquisitions – the Dragons’ hoard is theirs but anyone else’s property rights are debateable – it’s at least possible someone might do something stupid there. Certainly any serious incidents involving relief workers from the Combine could be used as grounds for an intervention.”
“Sir, are we going to get replacement personnel?”
“We’re on the list, Colonel Stevens, but so are a lot of other divisions and since we at least have three combat-ready brigades we’re probably not near the top.” Miller gave them a dry smile. “The rewards of success. Since you raised personnel matters, you may note that Lieutenant General Caine isn’t here. The general was overdue for retirement and submitted her resignation yesterday. She’s asked that no one make a fuss… so the surprise party is tonight. Recon elements are keeping her movements under observation and I’ll be calling her in to settle the paperwork at seventeen-hundred hours, at which point we’ll ambush her with booze and a barbecue. Frankly, we could all do with letting off some steam.”
The officers laughed and Ethan made a note of how Miller had turned around the bad news about lack of replacements. Combat-ready brigades was a long way from saying that those brigades were full strength.
“In addition, that means we have an open space in the TO&E that needs filling. LIII Corps will be taking the lead in redeployment – I expect us to be off Terra before the month is out – so we need a new brigade commander.” Miller paused for effect. “Congratulations, Lieutenant General Moreau.”
“What?” It took Ethan a moment to realise he’d said that out loud and once someone started laughing – he suspected Marge Pritchard – that set the entire room off.
“Alright, let me try that again,” the general said. “Congratulations, Lieutenant General Moreau.” She made an egging on gesture and the other officers, those treacherous souls, chorused: “Congratulations.”
“Yeah, thanks and I know where you all sleep,” he said, getting some more chuckles. “But seriously, I wasn’t expecting a brigade.”
“I think you’re ready for it,” Miller told him. “And as you may note from this rowdy lot, most of the division agree. Besides, we’re at peace now so promotions are likely to be slower. You’ll get the chance to settle in and get to grips with being a brigade commander.”
“Peace time doesn’t mean peaceful,” warned Colonel Stevens. “But yeah, you’ll probably get time to wear these rank pins in properly.”
“It’ll make a nice change,” Ethan said drily. Lieutenant General at twenty-eight was insane. General Kerensky had been a year older when he made Colonel, and that was a two-step promotion when he’d won the Medal of Valor on Royal.
Don’t lose your head, Ethan reminded himself. No one gets promoted this fast unless something goes wrong. Comparing myself to Kerensky? That’s ridiculous.
.o0O0o.
Unity City, Terra
Alliance Core, Terran Hegemony
10 October 2775
“I can’t believe you voted for Blake,” Hanse complained as John leant back in his chair.
The First Prince shrugged his shoulders, masking it as simply working out some tension in them. The simple fact was that there was no one else with even half Jerome Blake’s credentials when it came to reassembling the tattered HPG network in the Hegemony. Teams under the engineer’s leadership had quite literally restored service on twice as many worlds as any of the other repair groups. Added to his work on re-establishing HPG communications across the occupied Hegemony and any political capital expended to block him would be wasted.
At least the possible link to Conrad Toyama had been neatly severed. After all of Hanse’s suggestions of assassination, the simplest solution had been to simply point one of the other reconstruction interests towards the young man. At the tender age of twenty-three, he was well connected to the black markets flourishing on his home world of Styk and was easily adapting to similar matters. No doubt he’d do well working for Cerulean Waters, but however vital water purification systems were, they’d never have the political impact of controlling interstellar communications.
“Now we’ve confirmed a Commanding General for the SLDF and a Minister of Communications, perhaps we can fill the remaining gap in the upper echelons of the Star League’s government,” he said out loud. “Re-establishing the Bureau of Star League Affairs should give us a better handle on some of the economic… issues that we’re facing.”
“And I suppose you have a candidate in mind?” asked Minoru Kurita sardonically. “I’m not sure the Combine has benefitted from the Bureau as much as the Suns, perhaps we should instead re-think its role.”
“I can think of several candidates,” John answered. “And whatever might change about its role, there should still be a Minister. After all, not every state in the Star League has reduced the Bureau to a blank slate.”
“We seem to have adapted,” noted Kenyon Marik acidly. “Do you suggest we should pay taxes for services only provided to the Federated Suns?”
“You had those services until you stopped those taxes.” He pinched the brow of his nose. “There’s two separate issues here and I don’t see that a debate about its role should be put before appointing a leader for the organisation.”
“Ah, but the choice of minister should be based on what they’re expected to do,” Robert pointed out somewhat gleefully. “We can hardly turn back the clock so with the best will in the worlds the BSLA won’t be able to operate on the same scale for many years to come. There’s no point appointing someone in the expectation of that.”
“At the same time,” Barbara added, “There’s likely to be something of a peace dividend – now that the SLDF is no longer engaged in warfare its expenses will naturally fall and there will be funds available to the BSLA. Surely we should discuss what policies should be followed in allocating such largesse.”
“I wouldn’t count on a drastic influx of funds.” John steepled his fingers. “All that money has to come from tax revenues, after all. The last ten years have left all our economies shakier and cut into what taxes are paid. And of course, in some states, simply collecting those taxes has become all but impossible. You complain that the Federated Suns received the bulk of Star League spending over the last decade, but where do you think the money came from?”
“How we manage our states is our business, not yours.”
“When you’re shorting the Star League government, I’d say that’s the business of the entire Star League Council. Wouldn’t you, Robert?”
“And would you open your own finances to such scrutiny, Prince Davion?” asked Barbara.
“The Bureau’s tax collections and the expenditure of those funds is a matter of record. Administrator Green has been taking steps to ensure all necessary data is available here in the expectation of the new Minister having need for it. As a member of the Council, naturally you have a right to view those records – just as I’m entitled to see what the Bureau’s been doing – and not been allowed to do – within each of your states.”
“Oh, but I’m not talking about the BSLA operations in the Suns,” the Chancellor said silkily. “I mean your personal finances. My understanding is that House Davion was heavily in debt at the time of the Coup. And yet you seem conveniently solvent. It would be interesting to see if you refilled your coffers at the expense of the Duchy of New Avalon which you claimed administration over.”
John snorted. Someone had followed the wrong line of reasoning there. Barbara couldn’t have missed that he’d renounced the debt – but she might have missed why he borrowed the money. “My personal finances are none of your business, Chancellor. The duchy, however, is certainly accounted for in BSLA affairs and I’ve rendered a full account.”
Helena Cameron cleared her throat. “To me, as it happens. And I had the accounts privately vetted so you can rest assured that there was no embezzlement. In fact, Prince Davion and his son have increased the revenues of the Duchy noticeably and it’s been covering my day to day costs since I reached New Avalon last year.”
“Very well. I’d be pleased to have that examined if you’d like a second opinion.”
“Since the Duchy is part of my own personal finances, Chancellor, I don’t think that it’s necessary.” Helena looked over at the now empty seat representing the Outworlds Alliance. Simpson Avellar had made a very hasty departure from Terra following the first meeting of the Star League Council. “I had Felchow und Sohn examine the records. I trust that you’re familiar with their reputation.”
The bank had been intransigent enough with Amaris that their Terran branches no longer existed – and they’d purged their entire computer system between the first effort to seize them – the OPD had been shocked to discover that they weren’t actually sufficiently equipped or trained to successfully storm the bank’s corporate headquarters – and the Rim Worlds Army’s successful storming of the building. Branches outside of the Hegemony had regrouped and they’d been first to accept David Avellar’s invitation to set up an Outworlds branch.
“That would do,” Barbara conceded. “Although that does lead us to what the SLDF will do about the rebels. After all, Amaris is out of the picture.”
“I seriously doubt if the SLDF is in any position to resume its campaign against the secessionist elements within the Concordat or any of the other states. After all, such a campaign would be expensive and I do get the impression that you prefer them starved of cash,” Nicoletta gave Kerensky a smug smile. “Wouldn’t you agree, Protector?”
Kerensky was seated opposite her, right next to John. “That brings us back to the matter of finances,” he said without directly addressing Nicoletta. “The Rim Worlds’ financial structure has been somewhat restored to support SLDF operations. Separating Bureau assets from those of the SLDF will be relatively straightforward, if time consuming and should proceed along with establishing the Rim Worlds’ new government.”
“How very admirable,” Minoru murmured. “Perhaps we should rescind Council Directive 41 and reinstate the system of Periphery Administrators for territorial states. Of course, that would also mean that Lord Kerensky would have to cede his seat here to the appointed administrator.”
“While I agree we should revisit our policies in the Periphery, a more nuanced position would probably be in order,” John said before Kenyon or Robert could get their teeth into the idea. “And we are drifting away from the issue at hand. May I suggest we appoint a provisional head of the BSLA to audit their current resources and any shortfalls in revenue?”
“Your Bennett Green perhaps?” sniped Kenyon. “He’s more one of your ministers now than he is a Star League official.”
“I was actually thinking Reika Isu, the State Administrator for the Draconis Combine. She’s been heavily involved in the reconstruction of the Hegemony so she has some experience of assessing and reconstructing damaged government facilities and structures.”
The Lord of the Free Worlds League glanced aside at Minoru. “You know her best.”
“Regrettably I don’t feel that she would be equal to the task,” the Coordinator demurred.
Robert cleared his throat. “We shouldn’t elevate any of the State Administrators. We need a fresh pair of eyes, an outsider who isn’t part of their cliques. I nominate Jennifer Steiner.”
Kenyon laughed. “I’m not sure why you think we’d place the Star League’s administration in the hands of your sister, even temporarily.”
“Jennifer’s more than capable.”
“But capable of what? We don’t need some Lyran merchant cutting sharp deals to your benefit in charge of the Bureau,” the Captain-General said harshly.
“Should we appoint Edward Hughes then?” asked Helena cautiously. “He seems sensible.”
“I wouldn’t trust that blowhard to carry a bucket of water,” retorted Kenyon.
Helena sighed and pulled out a hip-flask. “I get the impression you don’t trust many people, Lord Marik,” she said as she unscrewed the lid.
Kenyon gave her a contemptuous look as she sipped the contents. “Certainly not drunks,” he told her.
She blinked at him and then took her water glass, pouring a little of the flask’s contents into it. “It’s antacid,” Helena explained, pushing the glass towards the Captain-General so he could examine the milky contents. “Now, I trust you’ll excuse me if I move to adjourn the session. I’ve Hegemony business to attend to and we’ve run long for the last three days so it’s piling up.”
“I quite understand,” Barbara said warmly. “May I suggest we recess the session so we can attend to business at home?”
“Motion seconded,” Robert asserted. “In fact, let’s recess until next year. Then we’ll at least know who the real Director-General is.”
“I find myself in the rare position of agreeing with the Archon,” Minoru concurred.
“Four votes cast in favour, motion carries,” Helena noted and pushed back her chair. “Have a good evening, my lords of the council. And safe journeys home.”
-
I have to confess, I was expecting (and, honestly, kind of hoping for) a little more kaboom.
-
I have to confess, I was expecting (and, honestly, kind of hoping for) a little more kaboom.
I was sort of folloowing this line of thouught myself. Still great thouugh. Though no one can be happy with the 3 real powers, davion, kerinsky and helena. thoes 3 will be thick as theves for good.
-
No boom today, boom tomorrow. Drakensis writes great booms. Kabooms even. Marvin would approve.
-
So how much of the SLDF will follow Kerensky as the Protector of the Rim Worlds Republic or Protectorate?
“One of them, yes. Those who wish repatriation to – or for those not born there, simple asylum within the Rim Worlds should be granted it with all dispatch.”
“I’m sure SLDF supply lines can transport them across the Commonwealth.” Minoru proposed and when Robert Steiner opened his mouth the Coordinator glared at him. “As freedom to travel across member-states is a right guaranteed under the Star League Accords.”
John nodded. “I’ll offer the same asylum within the Federated Suns for those wishing to make a fresh start.”
“And I,” concurred Barbara Liao hastily.
“She’s got an eye on the soldiers,” Hanse warned.
Kerensky nodded his acceptance. “I’ll also need to establish a reasonable military force to carry out effective protection of the Rim Worlds. The divisions garrisoning worlds bypassed in the push on Terra have been disarmed and their equipment warehoused. There’s enough there for me to equip a force of around the size Amaris admitted to ten years ago, nothing unreasonable compared to the forces of any other house.”
“Five or six divisions,” John allowed. “That seems reasonable.”
Cause I see he set himself up for it
-
i have to agree, i definetly see many following kerensky and even some following davion. both are popular .
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i have to agree, i definetly see many following kerensky and even some following davion. both are popular .
And of those who can´t or won´t, a lot will follow Helena because Kerensky asks them to.
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And of those who can´t or won´t, a lot will follow Helena because Kerensky asks them to.
eeeeeeeeexactly
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I'm hoping Helena does better out of this telling than she did in the outline. I've noticed a few variations already... :)
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i was looking to more backbone from the new star lord.
but the setup that the ex genral did with the court was great in setup and doing.
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I think she's still growing a backbone, and that's what gives me hope. She didn't do too well in the outline, but as I said, there are enough variations so far that I think she might do at least a little better than that...
-
Gorst City, Clovis
Draconis March, Federated Suns
13 November 2775
“How has the new organisation worked out in terms of logistics?” Thomas Halder-Davion had recently been appointed as Thomas Green-Davion’s aide, much to the confusion of many within the AFFs high command. “Can a regimental staff handle the demands of five battalions with three different troop types?”
“The short answer is yes, Major Halder-Davion.” Colonel Susan Sandoval seemed amused by the question. “To be more detailed: there’s a broad overlap of what’s needed in some areas so only a little adjustment is needed. And the load isn’t entirely carried by my demi-brigade’s staff. In fact, the main adjustment was working out the interactions with brigade staff so that we weren’t duplicating effort. Once it became clear what each side of that could delegate to each other – we were able to focus time and effort much more effectively.”
Halder-Davion nodded. “And the dropships worked out for you?”
“Mostly, yes. The Tower-class transports don’t really give a lot of space for spare munitions and the sort. It’s not too much of an issue with a Storm or Grove-class ship along. In this case we had six collars to work with so we could take a freighter along and the Buccaneer more or less doubled our supplies. I can’t really recommend the Tower for independent battalions though.”
Hanse rubbed his chin. “That’s something the designers missed out on. It shouldn’t be too bad as long as we still have some Dictators and Overlords available but that might not be guaranteed.”
“Hopefully battalions carrying out independent operations would be operating in multiple smaller dropships,” John observed quietly. “It’s still worth considering though. Field operations require a lot of supplies and if the Tower-class ships can’t carry their weight then it’s going to be a problem.”
Sandoval shrugged. “I gather it was tight fitting that many ‘Mech bays into the hull and as long as parts are available they’re excellent field repair stations for ‘Mechs. Also, at the demi-brigade level, as long as we’re all using the newer dropships their capacity can be shared.”
“How do the infantry and artillery feel about that?” the First Prince enquired.
“I think they’re too happy with the new ships to have noticed – particularly the infantry. The quarters on the Storm-class are a big step up from those on a Fury.”
“The naval side of operations seems to have gone fairly smoothly,” Thomas Green-Davion noted. “What did you think of the opposition?”
Operation PERCIVAL had been a relatively small trial of the AFFS’ new divisional model, with a division operating on the new table of organisation staging out of the Capellan March and rushed across to the Draconis March to launch a simulated invasion. Mostly intended to test the transport and administration, the action at the end had been almost an afterthought except to the troops involved.
The 27th Avalon Hussars BattleMech Division – including the eponymous Avalon Hussars, the Eleventh Tancredi Loyalists and Colonel Sandoval’s Fifth Crucis Dragoons – had secured a comfortable victory over the combined forces of the Clovis and Robinson Draconis March Militias. Possibly a little too comfortable – the March Militia’s morale had taken a nasty knock since they’d had the numerical advantage in every area except BattleMechs.
Sandoval leant back in her chair. “I’d say they were too aggressive, sir. There wasn’t really anything wrong with their coordination – I’d be happy to work alongside them any day.”
“Interesting. That doesn’t tally with the outcome of the match.”
“And without aggression, you wind up with some of the Lyran’s worse regiments,” Hanse added to Halder-Davion’s comment.
“Their attack on our landing zones was by the books, sir. And the new books at that. But we wrote a lot of that book and they were on the wrong chapter. As soon as they knew they were facing a heavy invasion force, the Militia should have looked at how to pin us into place and commit against them.”
Green-Davion leant one elbow on the table. “You don’t think the March Militias are enough to handle an invasion force?”
“Respectfully sir, no. They’re able to handle raids and light invasions but even if they succeeded in taking us out they’d have taken very heavy losses. They came at us looking for a fair fight and only suckers do that. If they’d contained the situation then there were at least two divisions worth of reinforcements they could have called in from neighbouring worlds and then we’d have been decisively outnumbered.”
“Unfortunately, Colonel, off world reinforcements aren’t always available.”
Sandoval shook her head at the Marshal. “In that case, sir, then they ought to have either played for time until they were – or withdrawn. Throwing their best troops right into the meat grinder would only have been justified if they were defending a major objective they couldn’t allow us near at any cost and that simply wasn’t the case.”
“I see. Interesting view. Other than that?”
“Their artillery coordination was good – if they’d had self-propelled guns rather than towed then our artillery couldn’t have taken them out so quickly with counter-battery fire. They’d been positioned out of range of Arrow IV missiles in fact, so if we’d been using SLDF Valis or Chaparrals, we couldn’t have done that. It was their bad luck we had Thumpers than could reach out and take them out. The Loyalists could have been badly hurt otherwise.”
John nodded. “It’ll be years before we have enough self-propelled guns for everyone but you’re right. How would you suggest they dealt with that?”
“Repositioning after every shot, although that then costs them rate of fire. Again, it would have meant playing the longer game.” Sandoval shrugged. “But they were told to give an intense bombardment as cover for the attack and they delivered. To be fair, by knocking them out our own artillery wasn’t able to give us covering fire in the initial stages so it’s not as if they were expended to no effect – they just shouldn’t have been expended at all in my view.”
“And the BattleMech forces?”
The colonel nodded. “I can’t fault their cohesion with their armoured elements. Individually they might not have been the sharpest pilots but they knew where they needed to be tactically. If we’d had a smaller force or a lighter one, they could possibly have won.”
“If and possibly are excuses, and when the winner talks up the loser it usually means they’re trying to talk up their accomplishments,” warned Hanse. He looked Sandoval over and then grunted. “Or maybe it’s family loyalty. Excusing a DMM’s soldiers even if she can’t do the same for their leaders.”
“How would you rate the March Militias against the Kathil CMM? I understand you’ve trained against them once or twice.”
“It’s a bit of a contrast. The staff for Kathil’s CMM are very tight,” she said. “There’s a lot of drilling and they have General Motors right there so they can afford to risk damage to their equipment. On the other hand, a lot of their Mechwarriors and sergeants are right out of the academy on Goshen, so they have to work within that limitation. I think these two regiments might have more retirees so there’s a better base of experience at the bottom.”
“I see.” John ran one hand back through his hair, conscious of the grey that had crept into it over the last few years. “And both the DMMs you faced have been poached for staff to handle the administrative work in this part of the Suns over the last few years. It seems we’ve done your father a disservice.”
Colonel Sandoval stiffened. “I can’t speak for the duke, sir.”
“That was a rhetorical comment, colonel. I trust you won’t object if I pass your compliments to your opponents though.”
“Not at all, sir.”
.o0O0o.
Avalon City, New Avalon
Crucis March, Federated Suns
21 December 2775
The two Davion couples had opened the dancing – John and Edwina joined by Joshua and Mary upon the floor – and closed it out as well. John’s feet were definitely petitioning for removal of shoes and perhaps for the opportunity to soak in hot water. Edwina was happy though and that was certainly worth the ache.
Owen was waiting deferentially at the doors to the royal apartment and John groaned.
Edwina laughed and kissed her husband on the cheek. “At least it didn’t interrupt the ball, whatever the news is. Nothing too terrible, Owen?”
“Please tell me it’s not admirals offering to resign. I just announced they could have three battlecruisers, what more do they want?”
The long-cherished dream of the Federated Suns Navy would be laid down in the new year in place of the three carriers originally scheduled. The new Defender II-class ships would be largely based on the hull of a New Syrtis-class carrier – a cost-saving idea from the resourceful Admiral Moore – but replacing the flight decks with a respectable array of naval autocannon that should give it firepower somewhere between the SLDF’s Cameron and Black Lion-class battlecruisers.
“I don’t believe the navy is in revolt, sir,” Owen said with a smile. “There is some news from Terra, which can wait until tomorrow, but also a message from the spaceport which probably cannot.”
John closed his eyes for a moment and then he reached up and loosened his collar. “No one I have to meet, I assume?”
“No sir. Or at least, not without warning.”
“I’ll have someone bring your slippers, dear,” Edwina murmured resignedly.
“You’re a jewel among women, my love.” John returned her kiss before following Owen to his office. The wing wasn’t silent even at this hour but it was far quieter – even the cleaning crew had passed by so only a handful of the night staff were at their desks.
In his office he only lit the lamp above his desk, leaving it a pool of light within the chamber. He heard a soft snore from the attached bedroom and smiled slightly at the private jest of the attentive Owen missing the sound of Hanse asleep. “Alright, Owen. What’s the problem?”
“We have a discreet visitor to New Avalon, although not to the Royal Court.” The secretary opened up the desk’s inbuilt display and called up a visual image. “We only spotted her by chance.”
John studied the woman in the centre of the image. “So who is she?”
“If you mean the redhead in the centre, that would be Captain Elizabeth Hazen of the SLDF. Aide de camp to the Director-General and late of the Royal Black Watch she’s informally high in Lady Cameron’s circle of advisors.”
“She’s certainly let her hair down.” The SLDF officer was dressed to impress and not with her military accomplishments. “Why is this of immediate concern?”
Owen moved a cursor and circled the face of a brunette half-hidden behind Hazen. “Jessica Croft, according to her papers.”
It took a moment for the face to register. “My god.”
“It seems that the Provisional Director-General’s spiritual retreat over the Christmas season hasn’t taken her to Scotland as she suggested.”
“Her mother’s name,” John murmured. “What is she doing here?”
“At the moment, checked into a middling room in a good hotel outside town. Captain Hazen is registered as a Hegemony citizen – perfectly true since she was born on Terra - and has visas for a small party – her assistant the so-called Ms Croft and two security men. Their luggage was larger than average but not unreasonable by the standards of nobility.”
The First Prince rubbed his face. “That retreat might play nicely on Terra, the media are staking out her late great-aunt’s abbey in hope of catching her there, but coming here means at least a month of Keith Cameron campaigning effectively unopposed, her proxies can’t compete with a candidate who actually visits the populace.”
The door opened and Edwina entered, holding a pair of slippers by the heels. “I didn’t see the need to bother a maid,” she explained, having changed out of her own heels into a pair of slippers and let down her hair. John’s wife gave the image of Hazen an amused look. “This was the emergency?”
Owen repeated his earlier movement of the cursor and Eleanor’s eyes widened. “Oh dear. And she’s at that age too – I wonder who it is.”
“Who who is?” John asked, Owen looking just as bemused as he felt.
“Her young man.” Edwina looked at them both and then shook her head. “You’re such men.”
“Well I should hope so,” John said mildly. He accepted the slippers and sat down to remove his shoes. “You think this is some sort of romantic assignation?”
“Did she tell you she was coming? Because if it’s not a matter of state then it must be personal, and to be incognito something she’d prefer wasn’t advertised.”
Owen nodded grudgingly. “That would be consistent. But she wasn’t noted as establishing such ties and we had people much closer than the media were.”
“Who else does she know? Vincent’s family, but they’d be too closely related and she isn’t that foolish…” mused Edwina.
John closed his eyes. “Cardonnes,” he concluded.
“Who?”
He sighed. “When she was on Terra, one of our Stealthy Foxes was keeping her safe.”
“Handsome man, a few years older than her?” Edwina speculated. “I don’t recall a Cardonnes family.”
Owen had taken over the controls and pulled up a file. “Leftenant Cardonnes is from Flensburg, here on New Avalon,” he reported. “There’s no previous family history of military service, his father is listed as working at a butcher’s. Current posting is on loan to the Ministry of Information in a training post.”
The royal couple exchanged looks. “Where?”
“On Hecheng, but he’s taken a lengthy leave to visit his family for Christmas. Arrived last week, the dropship back to Hecheng leaves on the twenty-ninth.”
John scowled. “Awfully convenient.”
Owen shrugged. “Given Ministry scheduling he must have booked it in at least six months ago – before Lady Cameron returned to Terra. At the time it would have been reasonable to assume she’d have been confirmed as First Lord and under a microscope twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week.”
“It would be politically difficult for her be found here right now,” he grumbled.
“And for her to marry her young leftenant?” asked Edwina, a slight edge to her voice.
“That would just be awkward for me,” he explained defensively. “The rest of the Council blaming me for marrying a deserving AFFS officer is one thing, but leaving the Hegemony right now could cost her the election as Director-General.”
His wife nodded. “And she’s only twenty-six.”
“We’d been married for seven years when you were twenty-six.”
“It’s different when you’re married. There’s a very applicable saying to the season: no one wants Christmas cake after the twenty-sixth.”
John groaned and buried his face in his hands. “Owen, send instructions that I want a discreet outer perimeter around Ms Hazen and her household at all times. With a little luck the media won’t catch her.”
“And what about Mr Cardonnes?”
“You have his name, address and contact information there,” he told Edwina. “If you want to send her a note playing matchmaker, that’s between the two of you. At least I can honestly claim I’m not encouraging this. Besides which, if I give him instructions it would come as an order from the First Prince however it was meant.”
Edwina considered and then borrowed a pen from his desk. “Owen, find me something to write on.”
.o0O0o.
Brussels, Terra
Alliance Core, Terran Hegemony
25 January 2776
Geneva was still unfit to resume its role as the seat of the Terran Hegemony’s government and Unity City was the centre of the Star League, not of the Hegemony. As a result, the same facilities that had provided a temporary SLDF headquarters were now providing a similar function for the Hegemony Congress.
“There will probably be challenges to the validity,” Jens Pinera noted. The aged statesman had declined to serve again, as he had during Richard’s minority but he had agreed to at least oversee the election of his successor’s successor – by unspoken agreement, Stefan Amaris’ election would be discounted. “Not all worlds are able to organise votes yet. And the SLDF is encouraging Hegemony natives to register to vote – they’ve always been free to do so but the SLDF’s historically encouraged a neutral position.”
“It might give the Star League Council second thoughts about challenging the election, to know that the SLDF has come down off their fence.”
“It could be.” The old man didn’t seem convinced by Keith Cameron’s point. “Excuse me, it seems that I’m being called on.”
The two Camerons watched the old man walk away and then looked at each other. “We’ll know soon,” Keith told Helena.
She looked back at the noteputer before her, still scrolling through the possible speeches she’d prepared. “Obviously.”
“You’re not concerned? I mean, you’ve got incumbent advantage but…”
Helena shook her head. “I have speeches written for either outcome. I’m ready.”
“Just like that.”
She gave him a blank look. “Yes…?”
“Well, should you win I will of course give you my full support,” he promised.
“That’s very good of you. If that doesn’t happen… honestly I think in that case I’d be a rallying point for opposition so it would be best for me to keep a low profile after I endorse you.”
Keith rubbed his chin. Chins, she noted uncharitably. Although he had lost a bit of weight since they met on the dropship leaving Terra. “You don’t have to do that.”
Any further discussion of the possible outcomes was cut off as Pinera returned. “Sorry to abandon you,” he explained. “The first returns are in and there were some questions from my staff on how to handle the write-in votes.”
Helena frowned, brow wrinkling. “What’s a write-in vote?”
Keith held up one finger then frowned. “Actually I don’t know either.”
Pinera raised an eyebrow. “I suppose you haven’t had cause to come across elections before. It’s where the voter replaces the name on the ballot slip with a candidate of their choice instead of one of the presented options.”
“They can do that?” exclaimed Keith.
“It’s not exactly binding and generally only a tiny number of voters do so. I think something like fifty thousand voters submitted write-in votes when Richard was being affirmed. Brave Little Yoli was the leading write-in candidate if I recall correctly.”
“Who is Brave Little Yoli?” she asked, trying to think back to when she was twelve and Richard came of age.
“A children’s holovid character,” the old man explained. “A little before your time – no one said that write-ins have to be real people. Generally we take that as a sign of who voters want the winning candidate to be like. Brave Little Yoli was apparently known for standing up to older characters that were set in their way and showing them better ways through his noble example.” He sighed. “Probably not the best guidance to have given Richard, really.”
“Perhaps not,” Keith conceded. “So who’s getting write in votes now?”
“The question was how to reconcile the votes that have been cast for ‘A Kerensky’, ‘General Kerensky’, ‘Aleksandr Kerensky’, etc.”
Helena sighed. “I suppose that’s not too surprising. Did he get many votes?”
Pinera pursed his lips. “Yes. Of course, Chara saw some considerable fighting and he made his headquarters there briefly. Normally, as I said, write ins are a fraction of a percent among the voting. You could lose them as a rounding error.”
Keith gave the vote counters a thoughtful look and then turned back to Pinera. “I hear a but.”
“I didn’t check the aggregate, but at least from Chara we could be looking at a double-digit result for him.”
The two Camerons exchanged looks. “As someone to emulate, you said?” Keith asked warily.
“Well, fictional write-ins yes. Once real people’s names come into it… complications.”
-
The displays set up for the results had been expected to track only two candidates and an optional ‘other’ category. By the time the tenth world’s results came in, it had been hastily reconfigured to add Kerensky’s name alongside Helena’s and Keith’s.
The fourth bar, for other, was added for reference but it had barely moved at all as reports trickled in from other worlds. Terra was likely to be among the last worlds to report its vote totals. Despite the casualties of the invasion and the tens of thousands who were leaving the mother world as refugees every day, it remained the most populous of worlds, with almost twelve billion people. Collating the votes would simply take longer.
“Do you think Kerensky would take the job?” asked Keith. The former Commanding General’s column on the display was catching up with those of the two Camerons. More than twleve billion votes had been counted so far with turnouts of between 20% and 30% on most worlds, which was another delaying factor. While in theory the capacity was there for every registered voter to participate, in practise it wasn’t unusual for only one in nine to actually do so. The turnout Amaris had claimed of 85% would have been unprecedented at any time. Some of the worlds so far reporting had double the usual number of votes being cast and reserves of electoral staff were being mobilised to get the count in.
Helena poured some milk into her coffee and stirred. “I sent a message but he’s on Summer so it might take a while for him to respond.”
“What’s he doing on Summer?” That was right on the Lyran border – in fact, the Archon’s late mother had been duchess there.
She sighed. “It was a mustering point for some of the troops being repatriated and there was an incident between some of the Rim Worlds troops and the SLDF volunteers from the Rim Worlds. Throw in Steiner peacekeepers and the local population and there was a four-sided stand-off after the initial brawl.”
“God. I hope things settle down when he’s got his people out of the Hegemony.”
She shrugged. “One problem solved, two more will come along. He’s asked for warships, you know. There were half a dozen ships that had been assigned to Amaris’ divisions that stood down and he claims that they’re covered by agreement to let him have the weapons and other equipment of the units.”
“Do you really want a new Rim Worlds fleet?” asked Keith.
“It might be your issue to deal with,” Helena warned. She lifted her coffee and sipped. “Two are just corvettes and the other four are reconditioned frigates from the reserve fleet. I’m inclined to let him have them.”
Keith made a face. “The Archon will object.”
“And we both know why that is – oh, more votes in.”
Sure enough, the voting columns adjusted again. “We’re starting to get votes in from more populous worlds,” reported Pinera. “This is Ozawa and… hmm. Not so much of a Kerensky vote there.”
“And there goes my lead,” Keith said tightly. Previously he’d had a razor-thin margin over Helena but now that had reversed itself. He laughed sharply. “I’m getting invested in this.”
“You weren’t before?” asked Pinera. “You’ve been campaigning across the Hegemony for months.”
“I was campaigning for policies,” the man said distractedly. “I’ll serve as Director-General if called on but I didn’t think it was very likely.”
“And now it could happen. Do you want the office or not?”
Keith hesitated and looked at Helena. “I… yes. No offense meant, I don’t think Helena’s doing a bad job.”
She smiled a little enigmatically and gestured for him to continue.
“Richard was too young, too inexperienced. I can’t say the same of either of us and I think we could both do a better job.”
“Unfortunately that’s setting the bar quite low,” Pinera reminded him.
“Yes, well if I win then I’d take that as support for what I’ve been advocating. And why shouldn’t I be the one to put them into effect?”
“Rebuilding the Hegemony Armed Forces?” asked Helena. “Protectionist tariffs?”
“Well it’s hard to say that the Hegemony doesn’t need better protection, militarily and economically!”
.o0O0o.
Over the next few hours the columns continued to rise. Helena and Keith traded off the lead repeatedly but as worlds from Tyrfing and Lone Star provinces began to come in, Kerensky’s votes were closing the gap.
Both of the Camerons stepped outside and addressed the crowds that were beginning to form outside the building. A cordon of SLDF military police was waiting in case anticipation of the results turned into fighting but the atmosphere was sufficiently positive that the worst they’d had to do so far was encourage a few inebriated celebrants to go and get some coffee and sit down for a while.
Keith Cameron’s “Have you all voted? If not go and cast them now,” speech got laughs while Helena simply thanked the crowd for coming.
Inside again, the Terran returns were coming in. Mars, Venus and the belter communities had cast their votes long ago but now the great and ancient cities of the mother world had their say.
“I told the assessors to add each district’s votes as they come in rather than wait for the planetary total,” Jens advised them. “It’s so close that we won’t know the final results until every district is in – if one has a high or low turnout then it could all turn on that.”
“Have you ever seen a vote like it?” Helena asked.
“Not in my life,” the old man told her plainly. “I should warn you that whichever of you is elected, the Congress is filling up with hardliners. It’s a good thing Kerensky’s moving the Rim Worlders out because we could see some ugly reprisals.”
“Oh of course, now that Amaris isn’t a threat it’s safe to speak ill of him,” Keith muttered. “I doubt one in ten of them did anything to bring him down.”
Helena made a face. “How much did we contribute to that, really?”
“That’s not the point.”
“I’ll hold the displays once we have the last vote,” Pinera told them, hoping not to have the pair start arguing. “That way we have a moment to absorb the results before they’re announced.”
Helena opened her noteputer. “Kerensky’s getting close,” she murmured. “I may need a different concession speech.”
“Three candidates, each with over thirty percent of the vote, no one’s going to have a clear majority,” her portly cousin rubbed his eyes. “It’s been a long day.”
“At least the loser gets to go to bed,” she murmured. “Whoever wins has to stay for the victory celebrations.”
The noteputer announced new mail for Helena right as the last few districts sent in their votes. North America’s East Coast districts that hadn’t taken the damage other parts of Terra had. The turnout there seemed to have been unusually high.
“I have the results,” Pinera informed them quietly. Up above them the screen had replaced all the data with a spinning Hegemony banner and the message: ‘results pending’. Outside the crowd roared with excitement.
Helena nodded. “And Lord Kerensky’s HPG reply just arrived. Shall we exchange?”
The old man made a face. “He’s got thirty-four percent of the vote. The American metropolises love him. Only Moskva went harder for the man.”
“Well he is a Muscovite,” Helena pointed out, opening the message. “He declines the nomination – can’t be Director-General while he’s off in the periphery and it would be faithless to abandon the duties he’s already accepted there.”
Keith shook his head. “Did either of us manage thirty-five?”
“You came in just over thirty-three parent,” Pinera reported and then looked to Helena. “And you came in, I’m sorry my dear, but just under thirty-three. Less than half a million votes in it.”
The former naval officer licked his lips nervously. “Then… I suppose…”
“Third place doesn’t win, Keith. My congratulations,” Helena offered, along with her hand. “Or perhaps commiserations would be more appropriate.”
“So how do we announce this?” he asked Pinera.
“It might be best if we didn’t make an issue of Kerensky’s getting more votes than either of you,” he said quietly. “If we simply announce he declined nomination and that Lord Cameron’s votes exceeded your own.”
”The truth but not the whole truth.” Helena’s lips curved into a smile and both men were struck by the thought that it was the happiest she’d looked since the votes started coming in. “I can work that into my concession speech, give you time to get your acceptance one in order.”
Keith nodded. “Indeed. No hard feelings?”
“Of course not,” Helena told him. “Of course not.”
She stepped out onto the balcony and the crowd fell, if not silent then at least to a clamour that the speakers could penetrate.
“Ladies and gentlemen, citizens of the Hegemony,” she began. “The votes have all been counted and Lord Kerensky has managed to send a message back to express how honoured he is at the many people who’ve chosen to place his name on the ballots, even though he will not be able to serve as Director-General. I’m sure we are all grateful to him for his tireless efforts over more than twenty years.”
She paused for effect as Keith and Pinera joined her on the balcony. “And now, as my last act as your Director-General, may I present your new leader and the twenty-first Director-General…”
.o0O0o.
Unity City, Terra
Alliance Core, Terran Hegemony
10 February 2776
“With all due respect, Lord Cameron, I should prosecute those soldiers for desertion.” Aaron DeChevilier was glad in retrospect that he’d been let in to see the new Director-General without delay. If he’d been kept in an antechamber then he thought he might have built up a regrettable head of steam and said something unfortunate. “Or possibly mutiny.”
Keith Cameron leant back in his chair. The desk in front of him was more functional than decorative – this was a working office, not a formal one for receptions. Whatever else might be said of him, at least he hadn’t taken his election as endorsement to wallow in the privileges of his new status.
“I’d rather you didn’t do that,” he said briskly. “I suspect you’d have a strong case, although I’m not a lawyer, but I don’t think it would end well for anyone – the two of us included.”
“Yes, I’d almost have to single you out as inciting them too,” the general added. “May I ask what you were thinking?”
“I’m thinking that my distinguished ancestor made a mistake in folding the HAF into the SLDF entirely when it was formed,” Cameron told him. “And it’s not as if we can hide behind SDS drones any more. If the Star League Council votes that the entire SLDF should leave the Hegemony, what defences am I left with?”
“That logic I can see, but you publically invited Royal Command to defect.”
“I admit that my words may have been… ill-chosen.” The younger man toyed with a stylus on his desk. “I thought I might get a cadre – older soldiers wanting to stand down from SLDF service but that I could form new regiments around.”
“Instead you’ve gutted fourteen divisions – which is making an unholy mess of my deployments. Over a hundred regiments have pledged themselves to HAF and half of them were supposed to be embarking for posts outside the Hegemony. And that’s not counting individual soldiers and spacers – it’s fortunate there are no warships under Royal Command or we could have crews turning on each other.”
Cameron squared his shoulders. “I can hardly turn them away, general.”
“And I can’t sit back and watch the SLDF torn apart. There are already reports of recruiters from the House militaries offering incentives to officers and men from their realms and I find it had to see this as anything but more of the same.”
“I understand, general.” Cameron’s voice had an edge of frustration. “Obviously we need to work something out to close this off and to save face.”
“If you think this is about face, Director-General…”
“It’s political, everything involves face somehow.” The man behind the desk took a deep breath. “The SLDF’s rather than yours, if that helps.”
“You can have the men but I want the equipment back,” DeChevilier offered.
“Can I have the women too?” Cameron asked sarcastically. “I’m going to need equipment for them as well. And personnel mustering out can pay for their equipment.”
“Which they haven’t done – and I doubt you have the budget.”
“And I’ll need bases and a small number of ships.”
“If I give you an entrenching tool, Lord Cameron, will you stop digging?”
“Well I was rather hoping you’d suggest what you want in exchange. You know, the start of sensible negotiations.”
“I’m beginning to wish your cousin was still in that chair.”
“There are times when I want that too, but I don’t even know where she went after the election.” He huffed. “If Amaris couldn’t find her I suppose I won’t.”
DeChevilier laughed despite himself. “If it’s any consolation she sent my family a letter, so I expect she’s alright. She assured us you weren’t having her disappeared.”
“Bloody hell, I’m not that sort of person!”
The general grudgingly conceded the point. The incipient First Lord hadn’t reached that stage… yet. Hopefully he wouldn’t. “Let’s get back to the point. Can you fund buying the equipment of the regiments that have… elected to rejoin the HAF?”
“Not at list price – which also means I can’t afford to replace it from the factories. But let’s point out that I realistically have the equipment now. The question isn’t whether or not I get it, it’s what you get out of that.”
“The Star League Council may not see it that way.”
“Given the recruiters you’ve mentioned, I don’t think they’d support a principle that stops them recruiting out of the SLDF,” Cameron pointed out in what could charitably be called a reasonable tone. “Look, one of the things I was arguing for in my manifesto was to bring the territorial states back into the Star League. My understanding is that you don’t support that.”
“It would be a fine way to destroy what’s left of the SLDF.”
“Okay. Then perhaps we can compromise. If you sign off on the transfer of the regiments that have volunteered back into the HAF, along with any personnel shuffling to accommodate the stray volunteers, and including all of their equipment, along with… one military base per world of the Hegemony? Most worlds have more than that. Anyway, if you’ll agree to that then I’ll commit to oppose any military action against the Alliance, Concordat and Magistracy for the next ten years. Maybe the next fifteen to twenty. We have a ceasefire, I can justify holding that in place and trying diplomacy.” He laughed cynically. “Diplomacy is a lot cheaper, end of the day.”
“Are you offering to sell your vote?”
“Not to the highest bidder!” protested Cameron. “Look, even if I pushed for it now it would take years to lay the groundwork for such operations. And with a hundred odd regiments joining the HAF, you’re even less able to carry out another invasion than you were last month.”
“The thought had occurred.” He folded his arms in thought. “No warships.”
“I want some, but I’m just trying to offer you something reasonable for what’s already happened. We can talk warships another time.”
“But you’ll want their assigned dropships.”
Cameron nodded. “Where they have them, yes. Part of the equipment.”
“Hmm.” DeChevilier considered. “Fifteen years. Public statement that you won’t even consider launching another military effort against the Periphery before 2791.”
“Unless they attack us,” the Director-General qualified. “Not just raids though. Actual invasion. I figure the other Lords can defend themselves against raids.”
“That fair. But I do have one other condition. Royal Command’s been a toxic factor in the SLDF for too long. I want it disbanded. If you have your own armed forces you don’t need it.”
Cameron rubbed his chin. “Given most of their divisions are disbanded… just do it in a face-saving way. Let them keep the name and so forth.”
“That I can do. But they’ll be broken up. No more Royal Divisions, just regiments inside the line divisions. No separate but parallel chains of command. And no more Hegemony exclusivity – they’ll get the best regardless of their origins.”
“Elite but egalitarian?” A pause for thought. “Very well, general. Let’s put this in writing.”
The Director-General’s staff went efficiently into action, a secretary taking notes on each point and then stepping outside to draw up a formal document for the two of them to review.
“While they’re working on that, can we talk warships?”
“My god, you are shameless!”
“I know you need all your active ships,” Cameron protested. “Your logistics hang on them. But there are scores of ships too badly damaged to be useful at the moment and some that just aren’t suited to that role. I can probably scrape together enough cash to buy some of those at scrap value and eventually repair them for service.”
“And yet you can’t afford the much smaller cost of divisional equipment?” asked DeChevilier. “Warships cost billions of dollars you know.”
“And I’m talking about scrap-rates. And not a huge fleet. I’m not trying to match the Lyran fleet or something like that.”
The general pushed his chair back and crossed his legs. “I have nothing to do but listen.”
“There are more than a dozen Carson-class destroyers waiting for repairs. They’re almost a hundred and fifty years old, they already needed major restoration for use against Amaris and the drives aren’t reliable enough for long-range operations. But for a defensive role around the Hegemony they’d be fine – they’ll never be out of reach of a shipyard in the core worlds of the Inner Sphere.”
“You might be optimistic about the state of the yards, a lot of them were damaged. And they’ve got good cargo bays for their size. Corvettes would be in less demand.”
“Older corvettes took heavy losses in the fighting. Vincents are still useful – but I can’t see you giving them up given that they do have decent cargo capacity. Ships like the Mako and Bonaventure are just targets now – something Robert Steiner doesn’t seem to have realised.” Cameron spoke with some confidence. “I’m thinking a few cruisers and the destroyers – call it eighteen ships. The equivalent of an SLDF squadron.”
“I heard you say cruisers but I’m not sure what cruisers you think we can do without.”
“Actually I meant the Kimagure-class pursuit cruisers. They’re even faster than a Caspar drone but their cargo bays are tiny compared to a heavy cruiser.”
“They can still carry dropships, can’t they?”
“All of two each. And the three waiting for repair are low on priority for dock-space because of that.” Cameron rose to his feet and turned to look out the window. “Just see what your people think their value would be. Eighteen – or even twelve – ships would give me a seed to work from.”
“And what do I say,” DeChevilier asked, “If the other House Lords offer to buy warships on the same terms?”
“As long as you’re abiding by the technology transfer laws – not giving them the most advanced ships – that’s your discretion, as I understand it. Given how little revenue we’re apparently getting out of the League and Combine, it might even be a worthwhile incentive to let the more co-operative of them buy up older vessels for restoration – within reason.”
“I’ll see what my staff have to say. Now what are your staff – ?”
The question cut off as a knock on the door heralded the return of the secretary with flimsies drafting what DeChevilier had started to think of as ‘the face saving exercise’.
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I like his negotiating style.
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would be cool if helena was still voted as first lord and her cuz stayed as director general, would be able to put all there energy into there respective jobs and be much better off because of it. what do you all think?
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That would be pretty cool, but just wouldn't work. You have to be a Council Lord to be First Lord.
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Wow I didn't see Kerensky getting that much of the vote
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That would be pretty cool, but just wouldn't work. You have to be a Council Lord to be First Lord.
did they retcon the old books? ima find my old Star League book but i know that the director general post was generally taken for the person that was next in line for the first lordship and that the first lord relinquished the director generalship upon acceding to first lordship. this was a way of giving a person government experience before they took the reins of the star league.
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I don't remember that bit, but would be most interested in a page reference if you find it...
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Royals back to the Hegemony........that makes a pretty strong army right there. But it sure does a number on the remaining SLDF army.............Navy is still strong. But long term it would make the SLDF even stronger if Royal designs are issued to standard units.
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I don't remember that bit, but would be most interested in a page reference if you find it...
P. 40 The New Order, Paragraph 5,
" Lord Ian soon realized that his duties as First Lord and the current political situation made it impossible to rule the Terran Hegemony effectively. In 2572, he assigned his Director-General responsibilities to either his heir or to the President of the Hegemony Congress. From that day on, the Camerons would always consider themselves Star League rulers first and Hegemony Directors-General second."
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Thanks! :)
I'll do some reading after work tonight. I suspect the path to being First Lord still runs through being Director-General first.
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Harsh Terrain Test Centre, Sabik
Lone Star Province, Terran Hegemony
18 February 2776
“Alright ladies and gentlemen, settle down.” Ethan glared around the command centre. “You can gossip about politics in your own time, right now we have a job to do.”
“Respectfully, sir, we just got done cleaning this place up and now we have to hand it over to Keith Cameron’s glorified militia?”
“That’s enough, Major Cage. The soldiers of the Hegemony Armed Forces were part of the SLDF last month. They were our comrades in arms then and as far as I – or any one of you – is concerned, that hasn’t changed.” He forced a grin. “Besides, is there anyone in the brigade that actually wants to stay on Sabik?”
The battalion commander snorted. “Okay, fair point.”
The 225th was scattered across three star systems right now and Ethan’s brigade – or rather, two regiments of it plus two infantry battalions from Third Brigade, Pritchard’s tanks and a team of engineers – had been sent to oversee the evacuation of most of the tiny population.
Orbiting twin stars, Sabik was a backwater primarily valuable for a strategic position near both the Draconis Combine and the Lyran Commonwealth. The native terrain had been resistant to terraforming and the massive gravitational forces of the two stars left it an impractical month and a half from any standard jump point. The SLDF had managed to get the brigade’s transports in through a pirate point but the civilians would be in for a long voyage.
“Not even the civvies want to be here,” Pritchard noted. “We’re going to be looking at three military bases – what’s left of them after the nukes that dropped on the Castle Brian and SpecFor Command’s base – and maybe enough of a population to feed a small garrison besides themselves.”
“Conveniently that isn’t our problem.” Ethan studied the map. “Major Cage, I want you to do one more sweep of the northern belt and make sure that anyone staying is doing so of their own accord. The next convoy out leaves in a week and that’ll take us down to only fifty thousand people left on Sabik. And drop off another six months’ worth of survival rations – the margin for the next season’s crop up there isn’t as wide as I’d like.”
“Okay, I’ll get them netted up on the back of our ‘Mechs,” agreed Stephan Cage. “It’ll leave the warehouses a bit empty.”
“We’ll likely need the warehouses as we shuffle the loading around the new garrison’s equipment and supplies being landed.”
Pritchard walked over and craned her neck to try to read the orders. “Who’s being sent here?”
“The 246th Hegemony Hussars,” Ethan answered. “Looks like they’re about half of what’s left of the old 246th Royal BattleMech Division.” Once part of the LVIII Corps, the 246th had scraped together a single brigade when the Corps was disbanded in 2767 and formed part of a provisional division in LXXI Corps before that was similarly dissolved. They’d wound up in LIII Corps, the last of the three original Corps that had made up Seventh Army – the rest of the army’s current strength had been transferred in as forces in rear-areas were stripped of combat units.
She shook her head. “The Saffel Division? They’ve been rocky for years. What’s happening to the other half?”
“That would be what passes for the good news. Major General Miller has sent word that they’re our long-awaited replacement personnel and equipment. We’ll be hooking up with them on Lambrecht.”
Cage snorted, “Do you think it might be less of a shit-hole?”
“I haven’t had a briefing on it yet.” Ethan pushed his chair off from the desk and let it coast him over to one of the databanks around the command centre. “Lambrecht,” he murmured, entering the name into a search engine. “Major trading world with the Draconis Combine, ouch, that’s not exactly current for events. Ah, here we are. Bypassed in Army Group Thirteen’s original campaigns within the Hegemony, Rim Worlds pulled off after slighting the remaining fortifications with demolition nukes and… Christ, what does it say that I’m reading this as ‘the usual atrocities’?”
“Does it say that?”
Ethan shook his head. “No.” He closed the file. “But nuking city centres – which isn’t even denying us military resources, they were mostly banking and legal institutions not factories – and systematically smashing the fisheries with orbital fire from the warships escorting the transports carrying troops away… When did that become normal?”
“You’re thinking the wrong question,” Pritchard gave him what passed for a sympathetic look. “What you need to ask is ‘how do we not make this normal’?”
“Was it like this in the Periphery?” Cage asked them.
Ethan blinked. “I wasn’t out of training back then.”
“It varied. Mostly they remembered that the cities were their cities,” Pritchard observed. “But Don Chapman was told me the fighting around Panama reminded him of New Ganymede, so it could get pretty bad.”
Cage shook his head. “And to think we might be going back there.”
“What?” exclaimed the tanker.
“You didn’t hear? The new Director-General had that as one of his two big policy calls when he was campaigning for office. Rebuild the Hegemony Armed Forces and finish dragging the Periphery back into the Star League.”
Ethan looked at Pritchard. “I guess I should have been paying more attention to politics,” he said grudgingly. “It’s not like we haven’t got enough to worry about here?”
“It’s a ****** awful idea,” Pritchard added. “I mean, they’ve had eight years to get their defences back together and the SLDF’s got maybe half the ships and divisions we had back then.”
“True, although I’d say we have better troops head for head. And they don’t have Amaris buying them weapons in the Inner Sphere.” Ethan pushed his chair back to the desk. “We might be able to do it,” he said thoughtfully. “It’d be pretty hard on morale, especially with Kerensky off on the Rim, but if we were fighting only one at a time it might be possible.”
“You don’t actually think it’s a good idea, do you?”
“Do I look insane?”
”You’ve always looked insane to me, Ethan,” Pritchard pointed out. “I mean, what sort of idiot joins the SLDF right at the start of the war from hell?”
“Hey, I resemble that remark!” Cage objected.
“If you want to go to war with the Taurians when we’re still reeling from liberating the Hegemony, you really are insane,” Ethan pointed out reasonably.
“What does that say about our glorious leader?”
“Cameron? I never voted for him.”
.o0O0o.
SLDF Headquarters, New Earth
Alliance Core, Terran Hegemony
29 April 2776
“Welcome back.” Aaron DeChevilier rose to greet Aleksandr Kerensky as the former Commanding General entered his old office. “How are you?”
“It feels strange for that to be someone else’s desk.” Kerensky offered his hand and the two men shook. “It’s not really sunk in yet. The…” He looked around. “The boys are excited about going to Apollo.”
“I don’t think anyone will notice one more family leaving Terra. Millions of others are.”
The older man frowned. “I’d hoped it would be tapering off now that order’s been restored.”
“Unfortunately not. Every dropship that lands with relief supplies takes off crammed with refugees willing to take a chance on wherever the dropship is going back to.” DeChevilier shook his head. “We don’t exactly have a census, but based on the voting rolls from the start of the year the population of Terra is below eleven and a half billion and still dropping.”
“More than half a billion refugees? It’s mindboggling.” Kerensky accepted the offer of a seat. “Where are they all going to? Many of the other worlds of the Hegemony can’t support their own populace, much less an influx on that scale.”
DeChevilier sank back into the seat behind the desk. “Anywhere that will take them – to be fair, all the member-states have opened their doors to refugees. Based on the shipping patterns, I’d guess something like a third of them wind up in the Federated Suns but there have been reports of groups making it as far as the Outworlds Alliance.”
“The Alliance? Hmm. That could be a problem. There’s a lot bitterness there.”
“As far as we can tell the groups headed there are either pacifists or have associations with the corporations on newer colonies. I’ve no idea what they’ll make of the Outworlders when they get there, but there are nearer problems to worry about.”
“Further problems can get out of hand if you don’t watch them, Aaron,” Kerensky counselled. “Look at the Mexican War of the 1840s for how clashes between different waves of settlers from disparate backgrounds can explode into conflict. If that endangers the ceasefire then the SLDF could be pulled back into the territorial states whatever’s been agreed with Lord Cameron.”
“That assumes that there is an SLDF. The Royals’ defection wasn’t the first case of SLDF soldiers turning their coats to one of the lords, just the most obvious. Minoru Kurita and Kenyon Marik might not have given us any support against Amaris but that doesn’t stop them from joining Liao and Steiner in offering bribes. Right now it’s a trickle, but it’s constant and recruiting isn’t replacing the losses yet.”
Kerensky nodded. “Unfortunately they aren’t doing anything illegal. I take it there’s no similar bargaining going on with the AFFS?”
His successor gave him a thoughtful look. “You know he doesn’t need to send recruiters into the Hegemony. Tens of thousands of our troops have dependents based on worlds of the Federated Suns and some of them are retiring to join their families there. They might be honest retirees – I can’t blame them for being burned out – but it’s just as much of a drain.” DeChevilier frowned. “And the same’s happening with you.”
“I didn’t ask anyone to follow me to the Rim Worlds.”
“But they’re doing it anyway. There are even posters being circulated, talking about making a fresh start with General Kerensky.”
“Eh? I didn’t agree to anything like that!”
“But will you deny them?”
Kerensky ran one hand back over his scalp. “How could I do that, Aaron? Those men and women gave me so much, don’t I owe them the chance at a new beginning? And besides that…”
“You need the troops?”
“I might,” he admitted. “Steiner still has many regiments bordering the Rim Worlds and while I’m sure you’d wish to help in the event he decides to cross the border, the fact is that the Star League Council has always been more willing to stand aside from such conflicts than they have been to intervene.”
“The First Lord could order us in,” pointed out DeChevilier. “Of course, that depends on the First Lord and…”
“Yes. He was not a good officer, from the records we have. Not the worst but not well suited to the demands of a military life. What do you make of him?”
“A perfect example of ‘those who can, do, but those who can’t, talk about it’. An armchair strategist overly convinced of his comprehension of warfare and politics.”
Kerensky sighed. “Well at least he tried to serve. We have worked with worse.”
“Only once and look how Richard turned out.”
Both men fell silent at the memory of the young First Lord. Nine years now since he had been killed. They had a date at least, knew that he’d died in the first moments of the coup. Amaris had given a full account, ashamed of nothing he had done, before he met the firing squad. Kerensky had read it, DeChevilier simply scanned the summary and filed it for historians to pore over in years to come.
“As much as I wish I could offer to speak on your behalf, I have few friends on the Council,” Kerensky said at last. “And where some are concerned, my support would not work to your benefits.”
“Davion would listen, I think. And Kurita admires you in his way, you know how they venerate warriors. That duel with Scoffins – it was still a stupid risk to take but I hear it’s already part of their curriculum at Sun Zhang.”
“That does not reassure me,” Kerensky grumbled. “Some of them may see it as a challenge. And besides those two, there is Marik who would vote against whatever stance I take for no other reason. Robert Steiner is almost as bad.”
“Perhaps you should start advocating something outrageous then, trick the votes out from them.”
“Play the fool the way Amaris did?” Kerensky made a face at the distasteful thought. “I have never enjoyed such politics.”
DeChevilier gave him an unsympathetic look. “It’s one of the ways a lord protects his realm, Alex. And probably cheaper on the soul than sending more young men and women to die for the realm.”
“I can’t say you’re wrong. Well, I’ll see what I can do. Best to forewarn John Davion if I try anything like that.” He rubbed his head again. “Not to change the subject, but I haven’t asked about your family, Aaron. How are they?”
“I think Cynthia has a bit of cabin fever, odd after spending years aboard a nautical freighter, but there you go. She’s talking about getting a job – maybe taking another ship out or getting a dropship certificate. I’m not sure if that’s a hint I should find more time for her or if she’s serious.”
“Command can be a hard habit to shake and she had a taste of it with that ship. Perhaps that’s what she’s after. What do the children think?”
“Julia’s too busy in Mechwarrior training and Kristina’s after doing the same next year – she’s old enough now. I’m not sure that might not be a factor for Cynthia.”
“And your, er, son?” Kerensky almost called Benjamin the younger son but recovered himself. Roger DeChevilier had been dead almost ten years – one of the many soldiers in Twentieth Army who’d pushed recklessly into the Outworlds Alliance during the uprising – and his spectre still hung over his father.
DeChevilier shrugged. “I’m not sure how to talk to the boy. He doesn’t want to be a Mechwarrior, or join the SLDF at all. For now he’s volunteered for relief work, but that’s not exactly a long-term commitment.”
“It’s a worthy cause though. Sometimes it takes a while to find your path, Aaron. I wasn’t that much younger than he was when the Nagelring offered me a place – I’d never considered a military career until then. And maybe it’s not such a bad thing, to have him working to rebuild what’s been torn down by the fighting.”
.o0O0o.
Unity City, Terra
Alliance Core, Terran Hegemony
5 May 2776
“I hope none of you wish to question my legitimacy as you did my cousin?” Keith Cameron said heavily as he took his seat at the table. He’d been elected months ago but Robert Steiner had begged off returning to Terra immediately and Barbara Liao had cited her younger son’s election to the Capellan Prefectorate and her need to attend the investment. In the end they’d deferred meeting until what would normally have been the regular spring session, hoping that the appearance of normality would help.
Kenyon Marik steepled his fingers. “Despite some irregularity in the election’s results, I suppose that you did receive the most votes of any willing candidate, Director-General.”
“I’m overjoyed at your support,” Cameron said with only a hint of sarcasm. “I hope I meet with the approval of the rest of the Council.”
John nodded and was about to speak when Hanse – who’d perched himself on the table in front of the vacant seat of the Magestrix, on the far side of Kerensky from the First Prince – hopped down. “They’re up to something,” the redhead warned, pointing at Minoru Kurita.
Glancing around, John saw the other lords exchanging slight nods. Robert Steiner rose to his feet. “I believe I speak for us all in welcoming you to the Star League Council, Lord Cameron. To your rightful place, indeed. And now that we have a complete council of voting members, I call for a vote on the election of a First Lord.”
What? “The position of First Lord is hereditary within House Cameron,” John protested.
“It’s in the Accords,” agreed Cameron.
“I’m so sorry to correct you, Lord Cameron.” Minoru Kurita gave the Director-General a smug look. “However, that isn’t quite correct. The post was created by the Star League Accords and granted to Ian Cameron and his descendants in perpetuity, but you aren’t actually his descendant - your branch of House Cameron diverged one generation previously.”
John didn’t need Hanse’s advice to guess that the other Lords had been discussing this already – and that he’d been carefully excluded. “And why, precisely, do you think it appropriate to quibble over that? Lord Cameron is Ian Cameron's heir upon this council.”
“We do face extraordinary circumstances. While some of the difficulties of Lord Richard’s reign can be blamed upon his youth and the influence of the late Lord Amaris, it must be remembered that he also choose to hold the office of Director-General as well as First Lord, whereas his predecessors invested the governance of the Terran Hegemony in either their heir or in the President of the Hegemony Congress. It seems from experience that it’s best not to lay too much upon the shoulders of one man,”
“First you insist my cousin or I have to be elected as Director-General, now you’re claiming I shouldn’t hold that office and be First Lord too?”
“That’s surely a matter for the Council to decide,” Barbara Liao pointed out.
“Although,” the Coordinator said smoothly, “The fact you didn’t know the legal basis of the office suggests that you haven’t yet – understandably given the state of the Hegemony – had the chance to familiarise yourself with the workings of the Star League yet. If the Council votes in your favour, then of course, I expect you will carry it out with honour but I feel there’s sufficient grounds to second Lord Steiner’s motion.”
“Thank you, Lord Kurita.”
“That slimy snake, do you think they have a candidate in mind?” Hanse paced back and forth within the arc of the table, glancing at the flimsies in front of each member of the Council.
I hope they do, John thought. It’d be a rotten thing to do to Cameron, but if they’ve at least agreed on a First Lord then it would be better than a prolonged argument. He opened his noteputer and searched for a copy of the Star League Accords.
“I don’t believe this to be wise, my lords,” Kerensky observed quietly.
All eyes turned to him and he rose. “I think that in this Council only Lord Kurita and Lord Steiner are of an age to remember the stability and security of the League at the beginning of the century. I assure you that many billions of our citizens recall those days as well and yearn for them to return. Your ancestors accomplished that by uniting behind Ian Cameron, his son Nicholas and then Nicholas’ grandson Michael Cameron. Surely we should not let down the people of the Star League.”
“Those were indeed happier days,” Marik agreed. “but as you say, the Camerons did not accomplish it alone. Without Albert Marik and even Terrence Liao, there would be no Star League. The Hegemony lies in ruins and House Cameron’s reputation has soured. While both may be rebuilt, at this time I feel there is merit in letting Lord Cameron focus on restoring what you and Amaris tore apart without also pushing him into an office that even the great First Lords of the Star League’s first century felt was not compatible with devoting themselves to the Hegemony.”
“You’re not pushing me in. You’re pushing me out,” grated Cameron, his fists clenching.
“Do you have nothing to say, Lord Davion?” asked Kurita and the room turned to John.
“You’re correct that the post of First Lord is specified as hereditary to Ian's descendants rather than his heirs,” he said grudgingly. “I doubt that was the intent and I feel that this is an unfortunate precedent to set but it seems that Lord Steiner’s motion is in order.”
“Since Lady Calderon is absent, that makes you senior,” Steiner noted. “If you would call the vote on whether the position of First Lord should be opened for election…?”
John glared at him. “You may find yourself regretting this, Robert.”
“Is that a threat?”
“Just a prediction.” John looked around. There were three objecting faces, but neither Aleksandr Kerensky nor Hanse Davion had votes, if for rather different reasons. Could he shift the terms at all? Make it a vote on Keith Cameron receiving the office…
“Careful,” Hanse warned. “If you put his affirmation into the question then a nay vote would kill his candidacy for election.”
John made a face. “On the question raised, a vote of aye is to open the post of First Lord for election by this Council, based on the stated arguements. A vote of nay is to take the Accords as indicating House Cameron's succession is intended to be automatic regardless of specific descent. My vote is nay.”
“Aye,” said Steiner immediately and three other voices spoke up for the same cause. Cameron scowled and said nothing. Although with four votes in favour of the measure, abstaining carried as much weight as another nay vote.
“Motion,” John said reluctantly, “is carried. The post of First Lord is open for election by the Council. Next order of business -”
“Putting yourself forward?” asked Barbara Liao sharply.
He stared at her for a moment. “If elected I would serve, but while you may covet the throne I’m eyeing the challenges and I think I’ve done quite a bit of propping up the Star League already… not all of you can say the same. Or do you think the peace and prosperity we’ve squandered came easily to our ancestors?”
“Get off your high horse, Davion,” snorted Marik. “I propose -”
“I have the floor, Lord Marik.”
Marik looked around the table but apparently saw no support. “Naturally. Do continue.”
“While we have a ceasefire,” John continued, “We are technically at war with the secessionists within the Outworlds Alliance, the Taurian Concordat and the Magistracy of Canopus. Given the immense losses of men and equipment, not to mention the rather limited financial resources of the Star League at this point, it isn’t a war we’re positioned to continue unless all member states are willing to shoulder the main effort.”
“What do we have an SLDF for if they can’t suppress rebellion?” asked Marik, sneering across the chamber at Kerensky.
The Protector didn’t oblige by rising to the bait and John continued: “I therefore propose that we should seek a diplomatic resolution to the conflict. The major rallying point of the periphery has been the not entirely unjustified claim that they’re subject to taxation without representation.”
“The Periphery Lords have been seated here for more than half a century,” objected Steiner.
“Representation is more than simply a voice, Lord Steiner. I propose that we should offer all four Territorial States the opportunity to sign the Star League Accords and join the Star League as full members.”
“You want to reward those rabble for their rebellion?”
“The rebels you speak of have never been formally identified with the ruling houses of the realms in question. The one lord who was found guilty of treason has been indicted, executed and his entire House removed. I believe my proposal is in line with the ideals espoused by Albert Marik and Ursula Liao, in line with the spirit of the Edict of 2722. It costs us nothing to make this offer in good faith and it may reap far more of a reward than continued hostility.”
“Other than the dignity of the Star League, to crawl to a bunch of provincials…” Robert Steiner snorted. “You know Calderon’s up to her neck in this Periphery Uprising.”
“She was seated right there, seven months ago.” John pointed to the empty seat of the Taurian Concordat. “If you’re convinced of her guilt, Robert, why didn’t you accuse her then?”
“You know perfectly well why I didn’t. Anyway, what if they decline? We’ll look like fools.”
Cameron murmured something under his breath.
“I didn’t catch that,” the Archon said in a biting tone.
“He said, ‘you already do’,” Hanse reported.
“I was considering whether or not they’d accept,” Director-General claimed. “I haven’t actually met Lady Calderon or Lady Centralla – for that matter, have any us of even met the new President of the Outworlds Alliance?”
“I have,” said John. “I’m not convinced he’d accept, but he’d probably at least think about it.”
“I see.” Liao pursed her lips. “I don’t see how we can lose through this proposal. If they accept then the Star League is fully restored. If some accept and some don’t then the scale of the problem is reduced. And if they all decline then no one can say we didn’t try to find a peaceful solution.”
“All decline?” Marik’s voice was sharp. “I don’t think that that’s likely, do you Protector Kerensky!”
“Wait, him too?” protested Steiner. “Davion, were you trying to sneak him past us?”
“Sneak?” asked John blandly. “I did say four, didn’t I?”
“You did,” Minoru Kurita murmured. “And one could hardly exclude the Rim Worlds Republic under the circumstances.”
Robert Steiner scowled weightily at John and then to the Chancellor on his other side. “The Star League Accords are a treaty between our six realms. They can’t be expanded to other states unless we all agree!”
“That is one interpretation,” she said thoughtfully. “But what reason do you have to decline the proposal, Robert? I might almost think you were letting your personal feelings override the facts of the matter.”
“Bringing the territories into full membership would be grossly disruptive to the economy.”
“Your corporations have had a decade to get used to curbing their rapacity,” Kurita told the Lyran. “On principle I find the notion of appeasement unwelcome, but the disruptions caused by such a proposal are hardly outweighed by the losses all our industries have faced over the last decade. We can endure such change if need be.”
“You’re one to talk about rapacity, with the sort of piracy your companies carry out.”
The Captain-General cleared his throat. “We’re drifting away from the point. Adding the Rim Worlds Protectorate to the Star League’s member states would be a null event in terms of relations with the other three realms. One can hardly imagine that Lord Kerensky would endorse secession from the Star League.”
“It would be a sign of good faith,” disagreed Kerensky.
“The question,” Marik continued, “Is whether there is any likelihood it would be accepted in the other three realms. Vanura Centralla might have been tractable but I doubt her daughter will be inclined to accept.”
“Avellar might consider it but he dare not seem as soft as his mother,” observed Kurita. “Mostly likely he would stall, but eventually he would decline. That leaves Calderon, of which no more need be said.”
Liao shrugged. “Given we cannot immediately pursue a military solution, the dignity you feel so keenly for will be threatened anyway. Better we seem to be gracious than simply directionless. Lord Cameron has already advocated bringing the territories back into the Star League, so it will be difficult for him should we do nothing.”
“And a diplomatic solution, even with a low chance of success, is something that we can do now,” Cameron pointed out. “Military action, I’m told, would be very costly at a time when our budgets are tight. Perhaps we should put it to the vote now.”
“Only a unanimous decision can modify the Accords,” Steiner shot back.
“Whether or that’s so is a question for the Star League Council to decide, so in practical terms a vote seems necessary,” Kerensky told him. “You can insist on a vote for that if you prefer.”
“Shall we vote on that?” John asked politely.
Steiner folded his arms and said nothing.
“Very well. The vote is on the question of offering full membership of the Star League to the Taurian Concordat, the Magistracy of Canopus, the Rim Worlds Protectorate and the Outworlds Alliance. A vote of aye approves making the offers. A vote of nay is against doing so.” John steepled his fingers. “As the originator of the measure, I vote aye.”
“Aye,” agreed Barbara Liao, looking down the table at Kerensky.
Robert Steiner leant back in his chair. “Nay.”
Across the table Kenyon Marik considered and then shook his head. “Also nay.”
“At this time,” Minoru Kurita said deliberately, “Nay. Although,” he added with a raised hand, “We may wish to revisit the position when it is clearer that we are offering from a position of strength.”
Keith Cameron sighed. “Aye. For what it’s worth.” If the Director-General had been First Lord then he would have broken the tie, but as it was…
“Bargaining chips,” Hanse observed. “What’s Kerensky’s support worth to them? Four out of seven is no better than four out of six, as a majority, but if it looks like bringing him in would end a deadlock in their favour…”
“Given the unfortunately fact there are six voting members of the Council we may find it a little harder to avoid deadlocks,” Minoru Kurita observed. “Unless, of course, we have a First Lord. I move that we make nominations for the position without further ado.”
It didn’t seem to John that doing so was a good way to avoid deadlocks, but what could he do?
-
Imperial Palace, Terra
Alliance Core, Terran Hegemony
12 May 2776
The Davion residence in Unity City hadn’t survived the occupation – Stefan Amaris had ordered it razed to the ground as soon as he learned that the AFFS was fighting alongside the SLDF to liberate the Hegemony. At some point John would need to have someone arrange a replacement but at the moment that was so far down his list of priorities that it wasn’t funny.
“Were these the imperial apartments?” asked Baltazar Liao, looking around as he entered the meeting room.
John shook his head. “No, if you want to see that exercise in excess, you’d want the west wing. I had them left as is in case someone decides to turn the place into a museum or something.”
“I thought these rooms looked too humble.” Barbara Liao’s heir looked amused.
“I hope you’re not disappointed.”
“There’s a certain presumption,” the younger man said, “That having moved into Amaris’ former residence that you might be harbouring certain ambitions, whatever was said in council.”
“It’s a convenient distance away from Unity City – avoids a lot of the fuss of court – and no one’s using it. Plus the rent is cheap.”
“Because we must of course count the pennies.” Baltazar reached a seat but politely waited for John to sit before occupying a chair himself. “I suppose hotels that can make room for a working staff of the size needed aren’t all that common. Half of my mother’s staff are working remotely from somewhere across the Pacific.”
“I thought the Capellan residence was more or less intact?”
“Structurally, yes. On the other hand, with all the relief efforts going on there are extra personnel and the competition for hotel space is fierce. I keep expecting to see zweihander wielding Lyrans duelling katana-wielding Kuritas over housing.”
“And people wonder why I don’t want to be First Star Lord?” John asked. “I have enough headaches.”
The previous week had been solid speeches from each of the other five members of the Star League Council, extolling their own finer qualities and suitability for the office. The length of the speeches had varied but the votes at the end had been uniform in outcome: one in favour, four opposed and one abstaination. No one had voted for anyone but themselves, a fact that invariably led to adjournment for the day.
Having heard from everyone they’d agreed on a week’s recess. Balls and other festivities would fill the Court of the Star League with something like the pageantry of old but John had withdrawn from the city entirely. The Federated Suns nobility could represent the realm without him.
“I hope that isn’t to indicate genuine ill-health?”
“Not according to my staff physician. I’m just trying to think of a way forward. And of course, it means I’m readily available if anyone wants to do what we really recessed for.”
“Delicate negotiations?”
“Buying votes,” John said harshly. “Let’s be honest, Lord Liao. Everyone’s trying to find a price they can offer my peers to have them give up their ambitions to sit on Richard’s throne.”
“Yet you have no such ambitions? Does that make your price lower than that of the other Lords?”
John sighed. “Kerensky sat on that chair – as regent when he was here on Terra, and more recently to strike a bargain with us. It’s not even that comfortable a seat, he tells me. Right now, the Star League is paralyzed and the fault for that doesn’t lie with Amaris.”
Baltazar bit his lip. “Does that mean you’re putting your support behind Keith Cameron?” he asked. “You didn’t vote for him before.”
“I voted against switching to electing a First Lord because I was sure we’d wind up like this. Committing to his cause wouldn’t be sufficient to accomplish anything and, to be fair, I’d rather any First Lord than none. If that means supporting anyone else…” He shrugged tiredly. “Well, I don’t exclude Lady Barbara. She’s competent enough and we can work… if not together then at least towards common goals.”
“Thank you. I’m pleased to hear that. So, since we’re being frank, what would your support cost us?”
John shook his head sadly. “It’s already costing you. You realise that by opening it for election there’s no certainty you’ll succeed her as First Lord. It would come to another election.”
“Better that than a deadlock, you said.”
“There’s that. Twenty years is something.”
“Only twenty?” Baltazar asked. “My mother’s ten years younger than you are.”
“Twelve in fact. I don’t know that it’s my place to discuss your mother’s health though.”
“That sounds awfully like a threat, Lord Davion.”
John stared at him. “It’s not intended that way. My apologies, Lord Baltazar, but I assumed you would be aware. Your mother has a blood disorder. Barring injury on my part or some breakthrough for her, I can expect to outlive her – maybe not by very long but by at least a few years.”
“That’s ridiculous,” Baltazar exclaimed. “I’d know!”
“Well, you’ve twenty years to prove me wrong. On a personal level I’d be pleased by that outcome, particularly if she wins election. The Star League could be in worse hands.”
“How do I know this isn’t a rumour you’re spreading to undermine her?”
“You don’t,” John told him. “But I haven’t mentioned it to anyone and really it’s a matter to discuss with her physician. I don’t have first-hand access to your mother, except in the Council chamber of course.”
Baltazar stood up. “I came here to discuss business. Not to have my mother maligned.”
John shrugged. “She needs three more votes – or two and an abstaination. Right now I’m happy to abstain. If she wants my vote… well, show me she has at least enough support to win with that vote and we can talk. Without that, one more vote doesn’t do her any more favours than it does Lord Cameron.”
“Then I suppose we’ll talk again.”
“I genuinely hope so, Lord Baltazar. My best wishes to your mother.”
.o0O0o.
Unity City, Terra
Alliance Core, Terran Hegemony
18 May 2776
Kenyon Marik shook John’s hand as the First Prince entered the library of the Marik residence. In layout the room reminded John of where he’s spoken to Richard Cameron fourteen years before, but many of the shelves were empty and books were stacked for sorting on several tables.
“It’s a bit of a mess,” the Captain-General said apologetically. “The place was looted at some point and the collection’s going to take years to restore. God only knows where some of the books have gone.”
“The last few years in a microcosm.”
“I suppose there’s something to that.” Marik led him across the room to seats either side of the window at the far end. “I’ve got people checking the libraries of Amaris’ cronies for anything we can identify. Or for replacements we can bid on. Against Liao’s agents in some cases, another case for your parallel. You spoke to her son last week but I see she hasn’t won you over.”
“Not yet.” John contemplated the younger man. “The Star League’s in a very unstable situation. I don’t particularly doubt her qualifications as a ruler, but bringing the Council together… well, anyone who can get a majority vote right now will have earned their place as First Lord.”
“Is that an offer?”
“If you have two more votes beside your own, that would get my attention.”
“And if I said that I did but they wanted evidence of a third supporter before they’d commit?”
John eyed him thoughtfully. “Hypothetically then I’d wish to meet them first.”
“I’ll hold you to that in that case. And if you happened to have some votes lined up…?”
“Why does everyone seem to find it so hard to believe I’m not interested?”
Kenyon smiled slowly. “Because you’re a leader. I can see that in you. Your support would be worth far more to me than that of any of the others.”
“I’m flattered.” Or being flattered, at any rate.
“The simple facts. Would you like a drink?”
“Perhaps some water.”
The Marik rang a bell, summoning a servant almost immediately. “Ice water and glasses,” he ordered peremptorily and then, as the man withdrew, “Had you heard, John, that Liao sent her physician back to Sian under guard?”
“I had, yes.”
“And right after you met her son. Within hours.”
“I do hope she doesn’t do anything too drastic.”
Kenyon gave him a sly look. “What did you tell the boy?”
“We talked about the future.”
“And the price of it?”
“Something like that.”
The drinks arrived and Marik poured two glasses of water from the same jug, letting John pick which glass he took. “It’ll take more than time to heal the Hegemony’s wounds, Prince Davion. It’ll take money as well… and you’re not wrong about the state of the League’s finances.”
“You sound like a man who feels that he has a solution.”
“There’s precedent,” the younger man said. “Cases where one realm wasn’t able to fully develop a colony and instead chose to work with another. Usually the Hegemony in fact.”
“You mean the jointly administered worlds.”
“Exactly! Exactly!” He almost splashed water from his glass and set it down hastily. “You see, there would be resistance to League taxes when it was plain they’d be spent largely rebuilding the Hegemony. But we’re already pouring resources into emergency aid for those worlds. Why shouldn’t we similarly involve ourselves in supporting the governance of the worlds?”
“I imagine Lord Cameron might have something to say about it.”
“Lord Cameron is dependent upon us. That’s a simple and inarguable fact. The Hegemony is a ruin – you’ve visited even more of it than I have. The Rim Worlds… well, you can’t get blood out of a stone. Kerensky has enough on his plate. But there are five other member-states and five provinces of the Terran Hegemony.”
“And you’re suggesting… what?”
“Just what we’ve done before. Joint administration – each of us takes responsibility for rebuilding one of the provinces that borders our realms, the First Lord taking on the Alliance Core. In return we have a share of its taxes and resources until the damage is made good.”
John frowned. “That assumes that Keith Cameron doesn’t receive the post.” He held up his hand to forestall the obvious reply. “But let us assume that for the sake of your proposal that he does not. There could hardly be a permanent arrangement. No one would agree to that.”
“Human affairs aren’t given to permanency,” Marik agreed. “Something symbolic – until the next century, perhaps. Twenty-four years should suffice for reconstruction.”
“Or perhaps until there is another First Lord. Now that we’ve opened the position to election it’s likely that it would shift between Houses again. No First Lord can ever be secure that their heir will be elected to the post.”
“Perhaps not. But what do you think of the idea?”
“I think Keith Cameron will hit the roof.”
“Or have a heart attack, given the weight he’s carrying. But if the rest of us come to agreement.”
John shook his head. “It might work, although it depends on a number of factors – not least that to apportion the provinces we’d need to agree on who is to be First Lord. Given the… incentive of controlling the core of the Hegemony, that would be more tempting than ever.”
“There are details we can work out. Perhaps the First Lord has only Terra to concern himself with so the Camerons can still claim sole sovereignty over the rest of the Core and preserve their pride. It’s early days yet.”
“It may be later than you realise. This entire election has stalled re-establishing the rest of the Star League. The Ministry of Communications and the SLDF are struggling from one month to the next financially. At least the former can hold out some hope of generating some income eventually but whether that’s before the remains of the government collapse is open to your question.” John sipped on his water. “I won’t rule out your plan, but I think the cart is in front of the horse right now.”
-
Drakensis,
Don't take this the wrong way, but I hope you're never eligible to run for office where ever I'm living. ^-^
That was some good writing to concisely lay out the situation.
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I'm wondering if Helena is back on the table since being First Lord requires being one of Ian's descendants...
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Interesting
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I'm wondering if Helena is back on the table since being First Lord requires being one of Ian's descendants...
;D
That would be lovely.
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I would like to see that, but I suspect we're heading for the Empires Aflame ending
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Davion would really shack things out of everyone if he where to bring up helena for the first lord place though and it would be someone that does not rule a kindom right now.
-
San Francisco, Terra
Alliance Core, Terran Hegemony
26 May 2776
The ancient bridge that crossed the mouth of the bay had been one more victim of Amaris’ soldiers as they fought a long retreat up the Pacific coast. Now, with thousands watching from boats and tens of thousands more on the shores a combined team of SLDF engineers and specialists from all around Terra worked together to lay the last section of the span.
John Davion was standing a reasonably safe distance back from the southern team as they worked to link their section up with that extending from the northern half of the bridge. The winds were a little higher than predicted and it was making it hard to ensure the two sections aligned correctly. Only after several long minutes and some quiet cursing from an engineer were the pins in the correct position and tension was very slowly let out of the great cables linking the sections back to the bridge towers.
As the cables were extended, the roadway sank into place and cheers went up. John shared a dry smile with the man waiting across the way from him. They had to wait a few more minutes for the engineers to check their sensors and ensure that the bridge wouldn’t suddenly give way with the addition of a couple of hundred more kilograms but then they were finally allowed to walk forward and greet each other.
And they think we’re in charge of anything? John thought wryly as he exchanged a shallow bow with Minoru Kurita and then clasped hands with the Coordinator. We’re not even allowed to walk over a bridge until it’s been checked for safety.
“Ladies and gentlemen,” Kurita said in a clear, carrying voice. “It’s my great pleasure to join the First Prince in announcing the Golden Gate Bridge has been restored. In only a few more days it will be available to traffic once more.”
John began his own short speech, only to pause as he saw a small number of workers hanging something off the side of the bridge. He didn’t recall that as part of the ceremony. Were those… rolls of paper?
“Is something wrong?” the Coordinator asked.
John glanced at the cameras. “Well, I had more of a speech,” he said with a smile, “But it seems the bridge is already opened for… oh yes, a great tradition for this part of North America – students making a political statement.”
Security staff and engineers rushed to intercept the intruders but not before the rolls were pushed off the edge. One, insufficiently secured, tumbled into the waters below but the rest simply unrolled into long banners that he couldn’t read from here but presumably contained a political protest visible from below.
“My Lords, if you would please…” A security team closer around John and Minoru. “The area is no longer secure.”
“I think we’re relatively safe,” John noted as the six young men and women were dragged back from the edge. Two engineers vastly too senior for the job began examining how the posters were secured, presumably with the intention of removing them as quickly as possible.
Kurita nodded. “A good phrase. Relatively safe. I would rate this as comparable to my younger son waving his fork over the injustice of being expected to eat his vegetables.”
“Zabu would be… nineteen now?”
“Well this was twelve years ago.”
John smiled slightly. “From all accounts, he’s a young man of substance. I would say that we might be in slightly less peril on this occasion.”
The security team’s leader looked pained. “My lords, please. This could be a diversion.”
“It hardly seems necessary when we’re out here in the open already.” But John allowed the guards to usher the pair of them to a waiting ground car that quickly whisked them both away to the north, an escort falling in around them.
“A little excitement to round out the day,” Minoru observed, looking out of the window. “I find this a pleasant part of Terra. A shame that the occidentals colonised it before my own ancestors.”
“Well, they did have several thousand years to get around to crossing the Pacific,” John replied. “And while it’s not a time I’ve studied in great depth, weren’t there quite a lot of settlers from the Japanese islands during the late nineteenth and early twentieth centuries in these parts?”
“Men and women after my own heart.” The Coordinator turned his gaze sharply towards John. “Lord Davion, I believe we have matters to discuss.”
“We’ve been discussing matters for a week in Council without any noticeable progress.”
“Then we should discuss it out of council, as you have already with Marik and with Liao’s son. Nothing seems to have come of those conversations.”
John leant one elbow against the lower edge of the window. “Nothing of substance, perhaps. What do you have in mind?”
“As you have been attentive during the Council, you know my qualifications to lead the Star League and of my intention to do so.”
“I’ve been paying attention, yes.”
“My understanding is that you have no specific objection to any one of us, including myself.”
“It would be politically difficult for me to support you. On a personal level, I don’t find you objectionable so long as the succession isn’t then guaranteed to your elder son.”
Minoru frowned. “You object to Jinjiro?”
“My understanding is that he’s a very able military officer. Without an actual war it’s hard to say, but some reports suggest he could be brilliant. I’m not convinced his temperament is so suited to the debates inside the Star League Council. The First Lord is merely first among equals, after all. And a First Lord from outside the Hegemony wouldn’t have their wealth and technological prowess to back him.”
“They would have the might of the Draconis Combine Mustered Soldiery.”
“That would make for a very different Star League. I don’t doubt that you, or for that matter your younger son, recall well that there is both a time to draw one’s sword and a time to sheath it. Jinjiro strikes me as a man not entirely convinced of the latter,” John warned. “He may grow out of it, of course. And your family tend to be long-lived. If you live as long as your father then the point would be moot for forty or fifty years.”
“Many things can change in such a time.”
“That’s true.”
“What would you say,” the Coordinator asked, “if I were to offer the reversal of the Border War. Richard forced you to give up your conquests. Another First Lord might overturn the decision and…”
“I would be very offended, Lord Kurita. If you were to make such an offer then I’d consider it a slight to my intelligence and to my honour.” John let a slight smile cross his face. “But of course, you would not make so foolish a mistake. Were one such decision overturned then it would set a precedent that other are open to challenge – the settlement that Lady Jocasta imposed to end our war forty years ago, for example.”
Kurita nodded. “You are indeed no fool, Lord John. I ask your forbearance at my little test. So many of our peers have begun acting the fool, offering transparent bribes of this nature.”
“The leadership of the Star League is not something that should be bought and sold.”
“I agree. But it should be settled. And I believe the conditions that you require are two further votes in my favour for your absentation – or a vote and a promise of absentation?”
“That’s one qualification no one has met so far,” John agreed.
“My father once told me that Aleksandr Kerensky’s lack of ambition beyond his current place made him an incalculable threat but an invaluable ally. Amaris lacked the wisdom to recognise that. And I see in you a similar capacity. I believe the chances of securing the throne for one of us are far greater if he is granted a vote in the Council.”
“Meaning two votes would be available for someone other than those casting it. But you voted against granting full membership to the Rim Worlds Protectorate.”
Kurita held up his hand. “I opposed – and still oppose – making such an offer to the rebels. But Kerensky… a man deserving all the accolades of a samurai, to him I would have no objection. Indeed, I might well propose that the Rim Worlds Protectorate alone be extended the offer of membership.”
“Might you?”
“Let us suppose that I were to persuade one further lord to support me. If that were the case, would you and Lord Kerensky be inclined to offer me your votes and end this deadlock?”
John frowned. “I cannot speak for him.”
“It would be for the good of the Star League, would it not?”
.o0O0o.
Unity City, Terra
Alliance Core, Terran Hegemony
27 May 2776
“John.” Hanse gave him a serious look. “I’m not kidding around here. Entrusting the Star League to Minoru Kurita is a terrible idea.”
“We have to go with someone.”
“Someone, yes. But not just anyone. We’re talking about a House who’ve turned back the clock on centuries of social development and model themselves on samurai from the Japanese Warring States.”
“As opposed to the Arthurian myths our Mechwarriors are so fond of?” John asked. They were alone in the back of his car. “They’re a modern state, Hanse, admittedly with a different culture than ours. Maybe in your time the technological regression had them lording over rice-growing peasantry, but they have a pretty big industrial sector and very active commerce. A jumpship can’t be knocked together in a primitive workshop.”
“They also have a police force whose idea of riot control is to fire shotguns into the crowd and think firing squads are a legitimate way of dealing with political disagreements.”
“Being fair, that’s not unique to the Kuritas.”
“In other states that’s an aberration, not business as usual.”
John shook his head. “Hanse, we’re not talking about making him Coordinator of the Inner Sphere. The First Lordship is more constrained and Minoru knows it. He’s agreed already that before voting on his nomination we’ll relieve the position of its associated titles and positions. We’re not making Jinjiro the Duke of New Avalon.”
“Blake’s beard,” Hanse groaned. “Don’t blame me if his first decision is that his cousin Vincent should be First Prince in your place.”
“I don’t believe he’d make that mistake but if he does then I gather ‘I told you so’ will be a very satisfying phrase to throw in my face.”
The car pulled up and Hanse fell silent, jumping out of the ground car ahead of John. The SLDF building was lit up despite the hour. Even with most of the administration taking place on New Earth, managing the Terran presence of the force was a twenty-four hour activity.
“General Davion.” The guards snapped to attention as John approached the door. “Please go right in. General Kerensky is expecting you.”
“Do you think they’ll ever stop calling you and Kerensky Generals?” asked Hanse as they entered the elevator.
John shook his head slightly and hit the button for the senior officer’s residential level. Kerensky hadn’t moved out of the small suite he’d occupied when he first returned to Unity City. It probably hadn’t occurred to anyone here that he should. Or no one dared be first to voice the thought.
On the other hand, the Protector spent about half his nights away from the city under the guise of various duties. Some of those were likely visits to his family – still a secret. John hoped he was in a position to see his fellow Council Lords’ faces when they realised they hadn’t elected a childless old man to a life position, they’d appointed the beginnings of a dynasty. Kerensky had even confided that he’d marked his eldest’s birthday – the day before the Council had reconvened – by taking Nicholas out in his ‘Mech and giving the boy his first piloting lesson. If he kept that up then the secret wouldn’t last long.
It was a short walk and two more checkpoints to the door to Kerensky’s suite. A bell chimed when John pressed the panel beside the door.
A moment later Kerensky opened his door. “Come in,” he invited. “You were very mysterious on the phone.”
“If the other Council Lords haven’t tapped the Court’s communications by now then I assume they’re not even trying.”
“I find them very trying,” Kerensky observed wryly.
Aaron DeChevilier was slumped in an armchair, a glass holding only melting ice in one hand. “Lord Davion,” he said without rising. “Please tell me you’ve decided to launch a coup. I can have regiments around the court before dawn.”
“How much have you drunk tonight?”
“Either too much or not enough.” He shook the glass, ice cubes sliding around the bottom. “You have to save us from those fools. It’s your duty, yours and Kerensky’s, as the only adults.”
“Minoru Kurita is fourteen years older than me.”
“That doesn’t make him an adult,” the general said sadly. “My wife would make a better First Lord.”
“Now there’s an idea I could get behind!” Hanse said enthusiastically. “Ian Cameron made his wife Commanding General, why not have the Commanding General make his wife First Star Lord?”
Kerensky shook his head. “We’re not having another coup, Aaron. Go to your own rooms and sleep this off.” The two of them levered DeChevilier up out of the chair and helped him to the door. From there one of the guards volunteered to make sure the Commanding General reached his suite, only a few doors away.
“So?” Kerensky emptied DeChevilier’s glass down the sink of the small kitchen unit and produced a fresh one. “What brings you here? Vodka?”
“Thanks, but put some ice in it.” John took the same seat DeChevilier had occupied. It was still warm beneath him. “Minoru Kurita, as it happens.”
“Out of all of you, I think he’s the last I’d want in the First Lord’s seat.”
“But better him than no one.”
“Perhaps.” Kerensky handed over a glass and topped up his own. “Do you think he has the votes?”
“I think he has a reasonable plan for how to obtain them. And given he figured out how to appeal to me, I’d say… fifty-fifty.”
“As good as that? He stood aside during the Coup, John. Can we trust a man who did this?”
“With his family as hostages, can we blame him?” John met the gaze unflinchingly. “And he did nothing to stop others from the Combine who joined us.”
Kerensky’s eyes were far away for a moment. “Maybe. What did he offer you/”
“An end to the wrangling, the removal of some of the secondary titles and so forth that might let the First Lord wield undue influence within the other states… I think that might be what he hopes to sway Keith Cameron with, actually…”
“Ah, that one has been at DeChevilier again. Wanted SLDF ‘support’ in handling riots. More likely he wants them to carry the blame of doing so, it would mean his Hegemony Armed Forces have clean hands.”
“I hadn’t heard that,” John admitted. “More riots?”
“Pro-Amaris, of all things. Or of his supporters. Protesting that there has been a clean sweep of his adherents from office.”
John winced. “That might have gone a bit far. Some of the lower ranking officials were just keeping their heads down.”
Kerensky shrugged. “Which does not mean they should keep their jobs. But yes. I am aware that I am keeping on Rim Worlds soldiers in service which is much as you are saying.”
“Right now they’re sweeping out everyone down to a dog-catcher who held any office under Amaris. All well and good but between that and his purges, there aren’t many people left who know how the government worked.”
Kerensky shrugged. “So, Kurita.”
“Oh, and he wants you on the council.”
“Change of view there?”
John made a face. “Setting aside his justifications, it’s a trade-off. He’d vote for you, though not the other three states, but he wants your vote in return.”
“Hmm. I would vote for the Periphery to have votes too. And that could give us four votes on that. It’s the only solution in the end.”
“We’d have to convince them to accept it, but that’s a problem for another time. Obviously I can’t speak for you.”
“You would vote for him?” Kerensky asked seriously.
“If he can show me he has another lord’s vote then probably, yes. Frankly, even if he’s not elected, getting you on the Council would break up some of the deadlocks. The First Lord’s ability to break ties only matters if there are tied votes – a bit less likely with seven than six on the Council.”
Kerensky sipped. “I would prefer another. But our choices are limited. You may advise him that if he can secure full membership for the Rim Worlds Protectorate then I will vote for him, at least when he is next nominated. If that fails then I will consider myself relieved of obligation and will vote my conscience.”
-
Unity City, Terra
Alliance Core, Terran Hegemony
29 May 2776
As John and Aleksandr Kerensky entered the long arched corridor that led to the Star League Council’s meeting chamber they found Minoru Kurita was talking to Keith Cameron there.
“Gentlemen,” the Coordinator said, bowing slightly to each in turn. “A pleasure to see you both on what may be a historic date.”
“One can never tell how a battle will go,” Kerensky gave Cameron a curious look. “I trust you are well, Director-General?”
“Half the Congress want me strung up as an Amaris sympathiser, but otherwise I’m fine,” the man grumbled. “The fools have no idea how to run a state.”
“I had heard that there was some civil unrest.”
Coordinator Kurita nodded. “It is unfortunately to be expected that after such a conflict there will those who have yet to find their places in the new order. Alas, it will take time for the Terran Hegemony to re-establish the institutions to redirect wasted energies.”
John was familiar with the institutions that the Combine favoured in that case – the Civilian Guidance Corps sounded innocuous and their candy-striped uniforms were almost comical but they represented a large and well-equipped paramilitary force. “I understand that you approached the SLDF?”
Cameron nodded. “I realise DeChevilier has other demands on his resources but the Hegemony Armed Forces are too thinly spread to support law enforcement everywhere they need it.”
“I’d heard you had a hundred regiments.”
“A hundred regiments across more than a hundred and forty worlds. And there’s a limit to what ‘Mechs and tanks can do about civilians on the streets unless I start acting the way Amaris did.”
John nodded. “I begin to see the problem.”
“I have offered equipment and training for the Director-General’s police departments,” Kurita explained. “It would be troublesome if our personnel assisted except where Draconian relief workers are involved. Perhaps we can later prevail upon the Commanding General together.”
Such as when you’re First Lord and can call on the SLDF for defensive actions, John noted. With seven votes on the Council and hopefully fewer tied votes the First Lord’s office would be weaker in real terms than it had been before... perhaps that would be for the best.
Seeing Hanse leant against the wall, he gestured towards the washroom. “I’ll join you in the council room once I’ve used the facilities.”
Hanse politely waited while John used a toilet stall – after all, it could be a long session. “I hope you’re right about Kurita.”
“So do I. But as elected his main influence would be through the SLDF. As long as DeChevilier’s in charge that’s a fairly constrained avenue.”
“I’m not sure how long he’ll be able to stay in. Kerensky assured his appointment but not how long he’d hold on. He’s been pretty confrontational with the Council so far.”
“If he’s removed there are only two officers in the SLDF with experience of command above the Army level and I’m unlikely to be offered the job, which would leave Tatjana Baptiste.”
“They don’t have to pick by seniority. Kerensky was head of Royal Command, for example.”
John ran the tap and soaped up his hands. “I don’t think there’s a single army or corps commander they could choose that won’t look to Kerensky or DeChevilier as examples.”
“I hope you’re right. Good luck in there.”
If it was possible – and if he wasn’t currently washing – John would have shaken hands with the redhead. “I didn’t think you approved.”
Hanse rubbed the small scar above his right eye. “I don’t. But whether I like it or not I’m only an advisor. You’ve made your decision and now it’s my duty to support you, and that decision, as much as I can.”
“It’s appreciated.”
On reaching the Council chamber, John found them all in their seats. Robert Steiner was talking quietly to Barbara Liao, possibly offering some sort of deal, but he left off as John arrived. “What kept you?”
“Call of nature. Perhaps I had too much coffee for breakfast.”
“Yes, I’ve noticed you almost nodding off in meetings lately.”
“They’ve been a little repetitive. So what do we have on today’s agenda. Taxes being withheld? Minister Blake’s progress with the HPGs?”
Kenyon Marik snorted. “You know perfectly well we were discussing – and dismissing – the Chancellor’s position with regard to the office of First Lord.”
“You know if someone doesn’t give way on this, nothing’s going to be done. That could have unfortunate consequences.”
“We aren’t all as retiring as you, Lord Davion,” Liao said bitingly.
Kurita cleared his throat. “Since the Chancellor’s nomination was voted down yesterday, I would like to bring up a new proposal.”
“What makes you think we’ve changed our minds since you last put your name forwards?” she asked.
“Oh no,” he told her. “A new proposal, or at least a modification of one of Lord Davion’s earlier motions. I’ve been considering the idea of extending membership to the territorial states and while I still believe a general offer is inappropriate, Lord Kerensky does deserve better of us. And the number of Rim Worlds volunteers within the SLDF is larger than I had considered. I’m therefore of the opinion that we should extend full membership of the Star League to the Rim Worlds Protectorate.”
Marik narrowed his eyes. “They were also behind the Coup.”
“Not all of them. Indeed, Lord Amaris was so unpopular that there was an assassination plot that came close to killing him as he departed on his final trip to Terra. Matters would surely have gone very differently if it had succeeded.”
“One would hope,” said John a little wistfully.
“Besides, we’re just setting ourselves up for further instability there – Kerensky has no heirs so once he dies the Protectorate will fall apart. Do we want a Council seat in disarray?”
“Actually, Captain-General, I have two sons.”
Marik paused at that revelation. “You do? Why is this the first I’ve heard of it?”
“You never asked,” Kerensky replied politely. “I prefer to keep my family out of the public eye, although that will no longer be possible I suppose. Ah well.”
“I think we all made our positions clear when this was last debated,” Steiner suggested. “Let’s simply vote on the issue.”
“Do I hear objection?” asked John, looking particularly at the Captain-General. When he heard nothing, he rested his hands on the desk. “Very well. A vote of aye admits the Rim Worlds Protectorate to sign the accords as a full member state with all rights and responsibilities. A vote of nay denies this. I vote aye.”
“Nay,” Liao said immediately.
John blinked at the reversal of her previous position and looked past Steiner at the Chancellor who didn’t meet his eyes.
“Also nay,” said the Archon.
“Nay,” Marik added triumphantly. “And with three nays, no need for further votes. Too bad, Protector Kerensky, too bad.”
“It may very well be.”
Barbara Liao leant forwards and looked down the table. “Lord Kerensky, you are free to continue to attend these meetings but we have all heard your advice. I recommend that you consider returning to Apollo and beginning your, perhaps overdue, efforts to replace the provisional government with a more permanent solution.”
“I am beginning,” he said slowly, “To think that I might be able to do more good there.”
She nodded. “I would not, of course, wish to make you feel unwelcome on the world of your birth but there seems so much for you to do in the Rim Worlds…”
“I will consider your advice carefully, Chancellor.”
“Thank you, Protector. That’s all I’d ever ask of you.”
Kurita shook his head. “I am saddened to see that we are unable to reach a consensus on this matter.”
“You mean you’re sorry you haven’t managed to get some bought and paid for votes,” the Chancellor said sharply. “Next time offer your own worlds. Do you think I’d support someone so shameless as to offer brigandry at the expense of the Capellan Confederation?”
“I confess you have me at something of a loss,” Kurita said with only the slightest of pauses. Enough though to catch the eye of others.
“Oh so that’s what was going on. Why Coordinator, you should have told me,” Marik said smugly. “You know how fond I am of Andurien.”
Liao rose to her feet. “Crawl back between your mother’s legs, Marik.” She pushed her chair away. “I actually extended you a little trust, Davion. Fortunately I learned better in time,” she added as she walked past him to the door.
John stared after her. She had to be referring to the tentative offer of Valexa and Angelsey that Kurita had raised, but he’d never entertained that.
“She’s in a poor temper today,” Kurita said after a moment. “Perhaps we should not continue without her.”
“Unless she at least attends to abstain, we can’t cast a vote so I’m inclined to agree,” Steiner agreed. “A very short meeting, but I feel it settled a couple of issues so it’s not all bad.”
Kerensky rose to his feet. “Excuse me, gentlemen.” He left the room and Kurita followed.
A moment later, Keith Cameron closed his attaché case. “It’s not as if I have nothing else to do,” he said. “Good day.”
It took John a moment to realise that Robert Steiner was making no move to follow. “No one needs to offer me worlds, Robert,” he said quietly. “All I want…”
“All you want is everything back in its box neatly.” The Archon seemed amused. “The universe isn’t so neat and tidy, whatever eastern mystics claim. You should have known that I’d never let you appoint Kurita of all people. What were you thinking?”
John looked up sharply. “What do you mean?”
“I have my sources. You, Kurita, Cameron and Kerensky. A nice little voting block. Two naïve idealists and one opportunist dancing on the Dragon’s strings.” Steiner leant forwards. “I informed Barbara of Kurita’s idea of offering you the worlds you took back in ’62. Her own suspicions did the rest.”
“You really oppose him that much?”
“Of course I do. If you were as smart as you think, you’d know that we can never allow a Kurita to rule the League. Think, man! How long have the Suns and Combine been butting heads? Almost as long as the Commonwealth has been beating off their attacks.”
“And I suppose you have an alternative candidate?”
“Kurita is a tyrant. Marik is a bag of daddy issues. You’ve taken yourself out of the running – probably your only wise decision, if you’re this gullible. And we both know the Capellans and Terrans are too weak. Who does that leave, John?”
“Given most of them likely find you unacceptable for some similarly self-justifying reason, no one.” John frowned. Something about that… eh… “If this goes on it could tear down the Star League.”
“Without a First Lord, John, there’s no one to send in the Star League Defense Force. They’re politically impotent so if it comes to a war…” He shrugged. “I have the largest navy in the Inner Sphere outside of the SLDF, and my army’s almost as large as Kurita’s – not to mention better equipped.”
“To what end? You aren’t going to conquer one of the other Member-States, we’re too well balanced. The fighting will just drag on and on.”
“I’m not so convinced of that. In fact, I think the Hegemony would fall quickly, and that’ll leave the Commonwealth as the strongest industrial power even with other realms taking their slices of the pie. After that, the Capellans – which leaves you and Marik fighting for their scraps… and neither Liao nor Cameron can risk that so they’ll compromise before it comes to such a war.” Steiner smiled thinly. “When I have their votes, I’ll come to you, John. You don’t have to vote for me if it chokes you so much. Just abstain.”
“If it comes to that.”
The Archon shrugged. “If you were willing to bend for Kurita, I’ve no doubt you’ll accept me. Everyone has a price – yours is just a little different.”
.o0O0o.
Unity City, Terra
Alliance Core, Terran Hegemony
6 June 2776
“Just for the sake of completion,” John said wearily. “I nominate myself for the position of the First Lord. Do I have a second?”
The rest of the Council looked at him but no one said anything immediately. Keith Cameron frowned in thought but the others seemed only passingly curious. A week had passed since the attempt to seat Kerensky as a member and nothing had changed for the better.
“You’re not going to list your qualifications?” asked Kenyon Marik.
“If you don’t know who I am by now,” John replied, “Then I can only assume you haven’t been paying attention. Never mind. Absent a second I withdraw the motion.”
“How very gentlemanly,” Barbara said, with sarcasm dripping from her voice.
“I don’t see the point in wasting more time that necessary on something so unlikely to win support.”
“Now if only the rest of the Council were so minded.”
John stared at her. “Yes. If only.”
He sat and tuned out her pitch to become First Lord. She’d hit most of the salient points already – being one of the first three Houses to join the Star League, the Capellans as smallest of the members after the Camerons being least destabilising, being second most senior member, having supported the SLDF against Amaris…
“John, I understand the sentiment, but if you fall asleep you’ll look like you’re in your dotage,” Hanse warned. He’d moved into Kerensky’s vacant seat now that the Protector of the Rim Worlds had left Terra.
It wasn’t exactly an idea that warmed his heart. “At the risk of startling everyone, perhaps we could discuss something new?”
“I wasn’t finished speaking, Lord Davion,” the Chancellor said frostily. “Just because you don’t wish to be First Lord doesn’t mean the rest of us don’t take it seriously.”
“I’m fairly sure that I’m the only one who taking this seriously. You’re all after the throne but has it occurred to anyone that there’s a very weighty desk attached? If you just want to feel good about yourselves I can buy you tiaras, it’ll be petty cash compared to the costs of rebuilding the Star League. Or you can keep arguing until there isn’t a Star League to be First Lord of.”
Minoru Kurita shook his head. “That’s a little alarmist, Lord Davion. Virtually all of the Star League, when you come down to it, was unscathed by Amaris. Only the Periphery and the Terran Hegemony were fought over.”
“How much is your tax revenue down these days? Someone out of work because their employers go bust is as likely to go refugee as someone who lost their job due to the factory sprouting a mushroom cloud.” John shook his head. “Do we even need a First Lord? Why not just appoint a moderator, someone to break ties and move on.”
“And who would you suggest? Your good friend Helena Cameron?” asked Marik.
“I don't think she'd return here willingly, but we’re entrusting Blake with our communications, why not him?”
“Nope!” Hanse said firmly, shaking his head. “Nope!”
“Or DeChevilier, or whoever heads the BSLA should we ever get around to choosing someone. Hell, add all three posts to the Council as non-voting members and let them collectively break ties if that’s what it takes.”
Liao shook her head. “You’re out of order.”
And you’re out of your minds, he thought but didn’t say. “Lady Liao, are you familiar with the game ‘Chicken’?”
“I don’t believe so?”
“It’s an incredibly stupid game adolescent drivers or Mechwarriors play,” Steiner explained. “They point their vehicles at each other, open the throttle and the first one to turn away loses.”
“And if neither does?”
“That’s when it gets expensive,” the Archon noted. “I don’t see the relevance, Lord Davion.”
“That surprises me, Lord Steiner. After all, that’s your entire game plan – watch the League die by inches as you squabble and the last one to give up wins… which by default means the next First Lord will be the one who cares least about the Star League’s wellbeing. Doesn’t that seem a little backwards to you?”
Kurita leant forwards. “My lord Davion, please calm yourself. Your deep concern does you credit but I believe you’re taking this all out of proportion.”
“Just like Jonathan Cameron,” Robert Steiner murmured.
John stiffened. Jonathon Cameron’s paranoid dreams of threats to Terra had led to his constructing the Space Defense System networks at unprecedented expense in hopes of barring the ‘strange coarse men’ that stalked Terra in his nightmares. And then the wealth poured into them had reaped thousands of ships and over a hundred of thousand lives from those seeking to liberate the mad First Lord’s home world.
Maybe he’d been more right than he knew. Had he had his own version of Hanse perhaps? One that spoke less clearly?
“That is not a comparison, I’m comfortable with,” he told them firmly.
“That was out of order,” agreed Kenyon Marik. “You should apologise, Lord Steiner.”
“Of course. Please accept my sincerest apologies, John.” The Archon even sounded genuine. “But you do seem… would you be offended if I said tired?”
“No Robert. That the truth. I am tired.” He folded his hands. “Perhaps I should return to New Avalon. My presence here is hardly necessary.”
Keith Cameron and Kenyon Marik mouthed soft words that denied either his words or his relevance. At that moment he couldn’t bring himself to care what they were saying no to.
“On the matter of who should be First Lord, I pre-emptively abstain. With that, any three of you that come to agreement will have a majority in nominating your candidate.” He pushed himself to his feet, feeling very old. “I will be on New Avalon. If you wish to debate anything else -” Anything productive. “- then the HPG links have long-since been restored.”
No one prevented him from walking out the door, returning the salute of the guards. The debate, the never-ending debate, resumed before he left the room.
“Do you need help, General Davion?” asked a familiar voice.
Turning, he saw Elizabeth Hazen standing there. She wore a major’s rank tabs. “Probably,” John admitted. “But I’m damned if I know whose. Could you have someone call my aircar?”
“You’re leaving?”
He paused as the words struck a chord. Leaving. Oh.
“John?” asked Hanse. “Is something wrong?”
The First Prince sighed. “You’re from Terra, aren’t you, Major Hazen?”
“Yes sir, born and raised in Virginia.”
“I’m very sorry I couldn’t do more for you. Very sorry indeed.” Then he squared his shoulders. “Best of luck, Major. We may all need it.”
.o0O0o.
Kitimat, Keid
Alliance Core, Terran Hegemony
9 July 2776
Since Titan, Janos Grec had fallen into a pattern.
In the mornings he searched Keid for his wife and daughters. Queried refugee centres for both their names, those of relatives, those of neighbours. When he found a link he’d travel to enquire of them and then follow whatever leads they could provide. Thus far he had found neither his family nor – more positively – any evidence of their deaths or of capture by Amaris’ security services. Which would have been the same thing save perhaps more torturous; but for some reason he drew a line between the two.
In the afternoons, Janos found a bar. SLDF uniform was generally good for a free drink, his rank tabs for a second and after that his diminishing savings – Aleksandr and then Aaron had made sure to see to it that he received monthly pension deposits into what was left of Keid’s banking system, which was keeping him almost afloat financially.
The evenings he generally could not remember and he pretended when he woke, shaved and otherwise made himself presentable that he could not remember the nights either.
The morning’s routine was getting harder and harder to sustain. The afternoon’s wasn’t any easier though.
He was on his third drink, the first he’d paid for himself, when the holovid display above the bar switched to a news station.
“What the hell?” the man on the next bar-stool along protested. “Put the cricket back on.”
“Shut up,” the bartender said in a flat voice that sparked attention in Grec. Thumbing a second control on the handset, the volume rose.
“- announcement from New Avalon,” the newscaster reported and then disappeared, her face and the studio around her replaced by the great hall of Castle Davion.
The display zoomed in slowly, cutting away the men and women on the main floor and the great brass-framed glass window outlining the sword and sunburst of the Federated Suns. The sunlight outside streamed down onto the dais, painting the emblem upon the dais beneath, the hilt of the sword a shadow before the red-upholstered and gold limned throne of the First Prince.
Twin spotlights illuminated John Davion. There was a touch of grey in his dark hair that Grec didn't remember. And more lines on his face. But his eyes were steady and determined.
“Two hundred and five years ago this day, the six leaders of the Inner Sphere assembled and signed their names to a document they named – with foresight – the Star League Accords,” the distant First Prince reminded his audience. “This document established laid the foundation for the Star League and the organisations - the court, the SLDF, the BSLA and so forth - that depend upon it. Fundamentally, that document established was an agreement - an accord - by six of the most powerful men and women alive, that they and those who followed them should work together.”
Grec gripped the edge of the bar with one hand and swallowed the vodka in two swift gulps. The fire as it went down his throat burned away the fuzziness of his thinking. It was a brief respite, a false promise of focus that he’d pay for later, but something about John’s eyes told him he’d need that momentary clarity.
“Six leaders, from whom all of the Star League’s current leaders trace their succession, chose to place the benefit of the whole above their individual goals. The rising tide, they believed, would raise all boats and by setting aside short term benefits for themselves, they instead sought long term benefits for us all. The price of those ideals was high. It’s said that Ian Cameron shed a tear and that it still marks the Accords beneath his signature. How many more tears have been shed is beyond counting, but there is no doubt that for more than a hundred years the Star League benefitted every realm and by overwhelming majority the people of those realms. Not evenly, not always fairly, but by and large the Accords, the agreement, served us all well.”
There was a ripple of puzzled agreement from the patrons. The bartender simply looked grim. This was just a recording, of course, something of what was said must have been reported and prompted the decision to turn on the news. “Wait for it,” Grec whispered.
“I am here today, not to announce but to recognise that today and for many years – perhaps for my entire lifetime – that the Accords no longer stand. The heirs of the Star League’s founding fathers have not followed those ideals and as a result there has been considerable suffering that should not have been. As tempting as it is to condemn men like Stefan Amaris, the simple fact is that there is more responsibility that can be accounted for by any one man or any hundred men and women.”
He’d said it was the anniversary of the Accords, which was today. This message must be only a few hours old, delivered to Terra as a priority signal. Grec wondered how many others were watching it now. Billions probably. Maybe trillions, by the end of the day.
“I do not speak to condemn the uprising in the Periphery, nor the Usurpation by Amaris. These are symptoms that have arisen upon the edges of the Star League. For all the bitter harvest they have reaped, these events do not endanger the Star League. So long as the Accords stand, so long as the members of the Star League Council can work together, the heart of the Star League remains strong. It is with grave regret I must accept that this is no longer the case. The Star League has suffered what amounts to a mortal wound, for – as many of you must be aware – we are leaderless and the Star League Council has failed thus far to co-operate in solving this matter.”
“Should have made Kerensky First Lord then,” the other patron snorted. “****** feddies.”
“Alex wouldn’t take it,” Grec told him bitterly. “He told me Davion and Liao mentioned the idea to him.”
“I have never sought the office First Lord myself but I don’t condemn the ambition of those who have sought the office over the last two months. Nor do I condemn the bartering over votes simply because no one managed to meet my price, which was sufficient support of other lords to yield a majority.”
“What I do condemn is the pride and the arrogance that has led some members of the Council to the position where they have declared that they will accept no outcome save their own elevation and they are willing to hold the League’s wellbeing hostage to have their way. As if the post of First Lord was privilege and not responsibility. I will name no names for it is not my place to shame them. They know who they are.”
“What do you mean he told you?” The man looked at Grec, who gestured for silence. The ice cubes in the glass tinkled.
“What is my place and is my responsibility, is to recognise the facts as they stand and to act upon them. If the Star League Accords do not stand, if there is no common cause between the members of the Star League, then there is no longer a Star League. And without the Star League, war between the realms of the Inner Sphere seems all but inevitable. The result of ambitions, of hatreds, of prides… the causes do not matter. I have seen war before. I would prefer not to see it again but if it must come then I will face it squarely.”
John paused for breath and then continued inexorably. “There is one path to avoid this. One last chance of peace. That hope is called the Star League.”
“If the trust between the leaders of the Star League is rebuilt, then the Star League can endure. If it does not then the League is dead… and there is nothing more I can do to save it. I have abstained from any further vote upon the position of First Lord, which conveniently reduces the votes needed from four to three. The Council is therefore fully able to choose a leader without me.”
John rose from the throne and stood before the people of the Federated Suns, backlit by the star that warmed his distant homeworld. “I address now my fellow lords of the Star League. I will give you until the end of the year. Almost six months counting from today. But if there is no First Lord or – to be fair, no alternative leadership arrangements – by the start of next year, then the Federated Suns will, with sorrow but resolution, secede from the Star League. I devoutly hope that you will find the humility to prove such action unnecessary.”
The glass slipped from Grec’s hand. Synthetic, it didn’t break, bouncing off his lap and spilling ice and ice water on his pants. “Oh John,” he said in a small voice. “Oh no. No, no, no.” For the first time since Titan the admiral felt tears upon his face, crying not for himself but for what those words must have cost his friend.
And for they would cost everyone else.
.o0O0o.
Davion & Davion (Deceased)
will continue in
Book 3: Secessionist
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*applauds*
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Well done. Looking forward to the next chapter.
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Very much so! And I was very glad to Helena's name put forward again, even if it was rejected. :clap:
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Very well spoken!
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Here we go, the crap is about to hit the fan.
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For those interested in designs that feature in this story, please feel free to read Technical Readout: Davion & Davion (Deceased) (https://drive.google.com/open?id=13TN0ZSPktuolLWuzN5s1b9kgz3oco2q5)
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Here we go, the crap is about to hit the fan.
vast amounts and a fan measured in AU
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Here we go
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Nicely done TRO, Drakensis... I still hope for a somewhat better outcome than the outline you did, but I'll be interested regardless... :)
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wow, i even cried a little. that must have HURT a LOT for john, though sucks for a LOT of others. IF all the shit hits the fan then I think that FedSuns will be in the best position, also that a LOT of the remaining SLDF will goto him, kerensky or even cemeron. I am also sure that there will be a core that will be like < "****** it" and make there own plans. OR maby they will just saay "****** IT" and launch a cue and force the lords to choose and install one themselves. All around i felt the emotion and the hard decisions, i FELT johns weariness to. VERY good writing.!
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Wow. I didn't expect that. Can't wait to see Book Three!
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Excellently written. Poor John, he has put everything he could into keeping the Star League going and those stubborn fools on the council are too pigheaded to even attempt to work together.
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I somehow missed this, and I am sorry I did. Because once I started reading, I couldn't stop. Its been one hell of a ride, the characterization, the action, the politiking, the personal growth and interactions, all superb! And that ending!! This could go several ways, one of them being the Capcon, League and Combine trying to force the Suns back into the League, or at least using it as an excuse for a multi-pronged assault. And in this case, their allies in House Cameron and House Kerensky are either too weakened to do much or far too far away and also in the middle of rebuilding.
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For those interested in designs that feature in this story, please feel free to read Technical Readout: Davion & Davion (Deceased) (https://drive.google.com/file/d/1LRUd2ut-MXrFhL_hy6zoO9pAqiNQQBUb/view?usp=sharing)
Excellent as ever, thank you!
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I can't help but feel that Davion will lead the remaining SLDF out of the IS in an attempt to reduce the savagery he knows a Succession War would bring about. I just hope he heads out on a path that keeps his own nation out of the path of their eventual return.
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For those interested in designs that feature in this story, please feel free to read Technical Readout: Davion & Davion (Deceased) (https://drive.google.com/file/d/1LRUd2ut-MXrFhL_hy6zoO9pAqiNQQBUb/view?usp=sharing)
Very nice! 8)
A quick question, where did the art for the Jack, page 19, come from? I feel like I've seen it somewhere before but can't put my finger on it.
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Infiltrator mk.II.
Not quite the original, I think.
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Infiltrator mk.II.
Not quite the original, I think.
Really? Yeah, definitely isn't the original. Do you know which TRO this design is in by chance?
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Auberan, a fan of the story, put it together taking parts from several different suits of BA.
Most of the images in the TRO are modified to some extent but that took more skill than I had.
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Auberan, a fan of the story, put it together taking parts from several different suits of BA.
Most of the images in the TRO are modified to some extent but that took more skill than I had.
Okay, thanks for clarifying. The whole TRO is great, but the Jack just wouldn't stop tickling my brain until I figured out where it had come from. ;)
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Really? Yeah, definitely isn't the original. Do you know which TRO this design is in by chance?
http://www.sarna.net/wiki/Infiltrator_Mk_II (http://www.sarna.net/wiki/Infiltrator_Mk_II)
Sarna has the bibliography at the bottom telling you which book it's mentioned in. Very handy.
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The base of the Jack was the Fa Shih, but other various Davion suits gave images to the cause to give it less of the Dynasty Warrior look.
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Nice work. Surprised you didn't just go for the IS Standard image as your base.
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Drakensis had, I think, intended on using the Fa Shih, as he had used its picture to describe it over on Spacebattles, for the magnetic clamps I believe. It also has a nice positioning that the IS Standard doesn't really share with too much other art, and I'm more of an art basher rather than an artist myself. I have issues free drawing when it comes to different angles and such, though I'm loads better than when I started.
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Davion and Davion (Deceased)
Book 3 - Secessionist
Sickening, weakening
Don't let another sombre pariah consume your soul
You need strengthening, toughening
It takes a bit of dark to rekindle the fire burning in you
Ignite the fire within you
When you think all is forsaken,
Listen to me now
Hope's not forsaken
You need never feel broken again
Sometimes darkness can show you the light
Don't ignore, listen to me now
You need never feel broken again
Sometimes darkness
Can show you the light
The Light, Disturbed
Unity City, Terra
Alliance Core, Terran Hegemony
10 July 2776
“He can’t be serious about seceding from the Star League!” Keith Cameron exclaimed. “Why isn’t someone on New Avalon restraining him?”
It was a day since John Davion’s transmission. In that time every member of the Star League Council had viewed the holovid repeatedly. Now five of them had gathered in the council chamber to do so again, together. With John’s absence, half the seats at the table were vacant.
Minoru Kurita cleared his throat. “While the First Prince can be quite… shall we say irrational? …on certain subjects, he is no fool. He will have ensured that his ministers and High Council stand behind him before taking such a drastic step.”
“He’s bluffing, of course.” Captain-General Kenyon Marik shook his head in admiration. “But what a bluff, I didn’t think the old man had it in him.”
“Are you sure of that?” asked Cameron, hopefully. The Director-General had bags under his eyes.
“Of course. He’s served with the SLDF, as I have. He knows the AFFS would stand no chance against the full force of their armies. The SLDF has an entire army within his borders already. No, this is an attempt to stampede us.”
Barbara Liao nodded. “Davion has always been good at… shifting his goals. He did it on Valexa and then on Al Na’ir. Set out with one goal, preferably with someone else as the frontman, then when they’ve failed step in and claim some far lesser goal was the objective all the time, claiming victory once he has secured that.”
“It could be unfortunate if you are mistaken,” the Coordinator said quietly.
“I believe the Chancellor is correct,” Robert Steiner said at last. “No First Lord or alternative leadership arrangements. He’s leaving a loophole for negotiations.”
Cameron shook his head in relief. “And it would all be moot if we agree on a First Lord.”
“We shouldn’t be stampeded by this ultimatum,” Marik murmured. “That’s doubtless his goal.”
“There are really three outcomes,” Steiner pointed out. “As the Director-General said, we could come to a consensus by Davion’s deadline, at which point we lose nothing. Secondly, we come to some form of face-saving agreement – appointing a head of the BSLA or one of the other measures he’s been chasing as vital – so he can back down without seeming to.”
“Or we are faced with a hostile state upon our borders,” Kurita noted. “Should we consult with the Commanding General against that circumstance?”
“As a precaution,” agreed Liao. “It doesn’t hurt to have the eventualities explored.”
“I thought you said he was bluffing?”
“Lord Marik said that,” she corrected Cameron. “And while I agree, I prefer also to be sure that calling that bluff is an option.”
The summons was issued and the five lords looked at each other as they waited. “Do you suppose,” Kurita asked mildly, “That Davion hopes to be nominated himself?”
Cameron shook his head. “It seems unlikely. When did he put himself forward for the position?”
“He said he would serve if elected,” Marik said slowly. “And he did nominate himself once. I don’t see how he’d reconcile claiming he would leave the Star League with taking leadership of it.”
“Ah, but we are the proud arrogant lords who he castigates. Surely he, as the worthy lord to point out our failings is the right and just choice?” Kurita pointed out wryly.
“Hah!” Steiner shook his head. “That would be just like the self-righteous fool. But he’ll get no vote from me.”
“Nor I,” agreed Liao. “Nor any concession more than the minimum needed to let him back down gracefully.”
“You think that we should offer such a concession?”
“Something judicious,” she agreed. “The Federated Suns remains a powerful state and we should of course appear willing to make a reasonable agreement rather than go to war.”
Cameron nodded quickly. “Some temporary arrangement, perhaps. Appointing the Commanding General as a moderator to break ties, perhaps?”
“Not that,” Marik said firmly. “Not DeChevilier. He’s a Feddie himself, remember.”
“Oh yes.” Liao touched one fingertip to her lips. “From… where was it, Kestrel?”
“A farming world near New Avalon,” agreed Kurita.
“How positively bucolic.” The captain-general sneered at the concept. “We can discount that idea, Director-General.”
Cameron made a conciliatory gesture but before conversation could proceed further, the guards at the door came to full attention. “My lords, Commanding General Aaron DeChevilier.”
The doors opened to admit the man himself, in full uniform. “My lords,” he said drily and stepped forward to stand within the arc of the tables. “How may I serve you?”
Marik leant forwards. “I’m sure you’ve heard Lord Davion’s… threat by now.”
“Threat?” DeChevilier hmmed. “Interesting term for it. I’ve seen yesterday’s holovid, yes.”
“We are…” Kurita moved his hand slightly as if looking for a word. “We are considering the various circumstances that may result from this.”
“Very wise you, my lords. And of course, the Star League Defense Forces stand ready to serve whoever you elect as the new First Star Lord.”
“I have no doubt of that,” Liao assured him. “However, just in case of… difficulties, it seemed sensible to determine the SLDF’s readiness should Davion act rashly and your services should be required.”
“I’m afraid you’re not being entirely clear, Lord Liao. Required in what context?”
Steiner coughed sharply and fumbled for a handkerchief. “Don’t be obtuse,” he snapped after a moment. “If the Federated Suns rebels, can the SLDF put down the rebellion?”
DeChevilier eyed the Archon thoughtfully. “I take it that this is the official position of the Star League Council?”
“We really can’t allow the Suns to secede,” Kurita observed. “Obviously we would prefer to avoid the matter arising.”
“I’m pleased to hear that, Lord Kurita.”
“But should diplomacy for some reason fail, I think we would resort to military action rather than see the Star League fall apart.”
The Commanding General looked around the room. He didn’t have the terrible fierceness of the Kerensky but all the same he stared at each of the Council until they nodded their heads in agreement. “I’m not convinced that the Federated Suns leaving the Star League would make them hostile towards the League’s members,” he said solemnly. “And you have it within your power to avoid the circumstances by electing -”
Marik brought his fist down on the table. “General DeChevilier, can the SLDF bring the Federated Suns to heel or not?”
“As matters stand, no.”
“No?”
DeChevilier sighed deeply. “I appreciate that your military career was rather short, Captain-General, but -”
“I will not be spoken to like that.”
Liao smiled sardonically. “Let the man speak, Kenyon.”
“My own career was also quite short,” Cameron offered in a pacifying tone. “The SLDF seems to be both larger and better equipped than the AFFS, General DeChevilier. Please explain the issues you see in terms you feel I'd understand with my limited experience.”
“In simple terms, Lord Cameron, we can’t afford to go to war with the Federated Suns.”
“I’m not sure we can afford not to.”
“What the Council can afford, Lord Steiner, and what the SLDF can afford are unfortunately two very different things. The Federated Suns currently provides more than a third of our funding. Just keeping the SLDF’s forces intact on their bases costs billions of dollars every month. We have to feed the soldiers and pay them. We must cover pensions – our medical pensions are a debt of honour to our wounded comrades that we cannot default upon, but they’ve unavoidably grown with hundreds of thousands of severely wounded soldiers. And then there are the thousands of other costs for fuel, maintenance, training…”
“I see.” Kurita looked grave. “Naturally I understood there to be these costs but do you mean that losing the Federated Suns would make it impossible to meet those costs.”
“Not necessarily. It could be difficult, and those costs are relatively fixed so we can’t readily reduce them, but we could cut expenditure in some areas. Unfortunately, those areas are the ones that would factor into any military action. Fuel costs would raise, munitions would need to be purchased… we’ve fought not one but two wars on unprecedented scale in the last twelve years and the logistical stockpiles we could once rely on have been largely exhausted. And since SLDF warehousing and bases in the Federated Suns are unscathed, such stockpiles as we’ve begin to rebuild are to some degree located inside their borders… well, a war would mean they’d be seized immediately.”
“You have an entire army based in the Federated Suns,” Marik protested. “Couldn’t they guard the stores until relieved?”
DeChevilier shook his head. “Sixth Army is the smallest of our armies, they’re stationed in the Federated Suns because that’s where there’s been the least likelihood of problems historically. General Chudzik only has eight divisions - call it thirty ‘Mech regiments and fifty infantry regiments – available. If they spread out to secure the stockpiles they’d be wiped out in detail. If it came to war he’d have to consolidate into defensible castles or even withdraw from the Federated Suns.”
“That’s an alarming picture,” Barbara Liao mused. “I hadn’t realised you were so dependent upon the Federated Suns.”
“It isn’t something that we widely advertise,” DeChevilier admitted. “However, the financial information is available to all of you through the BSLA. The damage to the Hegemony and the Rim Worlds means that we’re only receiving a trickle of funding from them compared to the pre-war situation – more than from the Free Worlds and the Combine,” he added with a dry look at the Coordinator. “So the Lyran Commonwealth, Capellan Confederation and Federated Suns have been providing the bulk of our revenue.”
“How very interesting,” Kurita said blandly. “I appreciate your forthrightness, General. Hopefully this will all prove to have been unnecessary speculation, but I’d hope that by the end of the year you’re able to give us a more positive answer to the question if we have to ask it again.”
“That will very much depend on you, Lord Kurita.”
“We’ll make the financing of the SLDF our very next point of discussion,” Robert Steiner agreed with a sly look across the table at the two lords whose realms had withheld their taxes for a decade. “Perhaps that will convince Lord Davion that whatever he may think, we are truly committed to the future of the Star League.”
“That would be very good news,” Aaron DeChevilier agreed with no more than a trace of sarcasm.
.o0O0o.
Avalon City, New Avalon
Crucis March, Federated Suns
12 August 2776
Privy Council meetings had been tense for the last month, which didn’t surprise John. The High Council wouldn’t assemble until next month and that would be the crunch time but there was still uncertainty.
The double doors of the meeting room were still open and Joshua Davion entered with Bennett Green alongside him. The state administrator of the BSLA within the Federated Suns had been on Terra when John announced his decision to leave the Star League should no First Lord be elected by the end of the year. The First Prince rose to welcome him. “Bennett, it’s good to see you. How was the voyage?”
“It was a commercial jumpship route,” the bureaucrat said ruefully. “And the ship was crammed with refugees. I gather the other lords haven’t come to their senses since I left Terra?”
“If you mean elected someone, no.”
“That’s a shame. Not a surprise, but a shame.” Green opened his attaché case and laid a data chip on the table. “I’ve been asked to convey this to you by the Director-General.”
John looked at the chip and then around the room. “We have a few minutes, I think. Francesca has been delayed slightly.”
“I thought it might be appropriate for Bennett to sit in on the meeting of the Privy Council.” Joshua was less tentative about the suggestion than he would have been when he first sat in. John’s son and heir had grown into the ministerial role. Somewhere along the way he’d crossed the line that John hadn’t even recognised until it was reached: the point where the Prince Imperial was ready to wield the authority of the First Prince.
He simply nodded. “Of course. Please take a seat, Bennett.”
Inserting the chip into the panel built into the table, John brought up a menu of the contents. There wasn’t much, just a single encoded document. The palace computers checked for viruses and concluded it was safe - too short to contain any deceptive software. Already loaded with John’s security codes, they deciphered the contents and brought up the document on the holo-display.
Lord John,
I understand your frustration with the Council. I won’t insult you by promising we’ll have a First Lord elected by your deadline, although I’ll certainly try.
You suggested alternative leadership arrangements and I recall some solutions you presented during the meetings such as appointing a moderator to break ties or granting Lord Kerensky a vote. I assume these would be acceptable if they can be instated?
Regards
Director-General Keith Cameron
“It’s to the point,” Michael Stopec said bluntly. “He doesn’t mention what he’ll do if we do secede.”
“He’d play those cards close to his chest,” Joel Parks told him. The Minister of Ways and Means was his colourless self and hadn’t given an opinion one way or another on his feelings about secession from the Star League.
Bennett leant forwards. “I know that the Council called DeChevilier in the day after the news reached Terra of your ultimatum, sire.”
“He must be disappointed in me,” noted John ruefully. “I haven’t heard from him.”
“I couldn’t say, but the last I heard before it seemed best to leave Terra was that the Free Worlds League and Draconis Combine would be advancing tax money into the Star League treasury next month.”
Joshua snorted. “It took them long enough. Almost ten years of their worlds withholding taxes. Amaris would have been defeated years ago if they’d contributed.”
“Perhaps. It’s hard to say what might have happened,” John told him. “You were pressured to leave, Bennett?”
“I get the impression that my loyalties are doubted by the Council. One way or another it seems unlikely that I’ll be representing the Bureau for very much longer.” Green smiled ruefully. “I’ve held the post for a while anyway. Perhaps it’s for the best.”
Stopec’s golden cybernetic eyes turned to the bureaucrat. “And should your loyalties be in doubt?”
“I believe in the ideals of the Star League,” the man said quietly. “I… no longer believe that I can serve those ideals on Terra.”
“You and your family have served the Star League very well. If that’s no longer possible then the fault doesn’t lie with the Greens, or with the families that have lead the other state administrations. In many ways you’ve done your jobs better than the Council Lords.”
“As you said, sire, there’s plenty of blame to spread around.” Green gave him a sad look. “I’ll stay on to hand over my replacement, whether they’re appointed from Terra or by you. I assume you’d not be simply dissolving the Bureau’s apparatus if the worst comes to the worst.”
“If it comes to that, I’ll be looking at gradually transferring the BSLA’s departments into the applicable Ministries of the government,” John advised him. “I doubt the High Council would accept my maintaining a separate but parallel government outside of their control. I’ve assured them and will continue to assure them that I won’t be using this to remove their traditional rights and authorities.”
“I suppose that you’re right. May I ask, since Minister Reznick hasn’t arrived yet, what timeframe you’re looking at?”
“If the Star League is willing to co-exist peacefully with us then three to five years seems reasonable.” Before John could comment on how likely or unlikely it was that they would have those years of peace, Francesca Reznick entered the room abruptly.
“I’m sorry for keeping you waiting,” the Minister of Intelligence declared. “Fresh news just arrived.”
“From Terra?” asked Joshua hopefully.
She shook her head, taking her seat. “No, from Remagen and Victoria.”
Most of the looks directed at her were puzzled. What was the significance of those worlds? Both were in the Crucis March, part of New Avalon’s own administrative district.
“The SLDF garrisons?” asked Stopec grimly. “What have they done?”
“General Murphy has reported to General Chudzik that he doesn’t believe that the divisions there can be withdrawn before the end of the year,” Reznick reported with relish.
“I’m not sure I follow,” Parks admitted coolly. “Surely they’ve only been in place for months.”
“That’s right. The 262nd BattleMech Division on Victoria and the Forty-Ninth Mechanized Infantry Division on Remagen both saw heavy service in the Periphery and the Hegemony, they were replenished repeatedly with fresh recruits from the Federated Suns and they served under Prince Davion in the latter case.”
“Do you mean what I think you’re implying, Francesca?”
“They didn’t use the word mutiny, but the reason isn’t logistics. The majority of the personnel in those divisions have indicated that if it comes to a break with the Star League they’ll stand by us, not the League!”
“My god.” John wasn’t sure who said that.
“Is that likely to affect other elements of the SLDF?” asked Joshua.
“I think the response he got is indicative,” the Minister of Intelligence replied. “General Chudzik ordered General Murphy to transfer personnel between the divisions of his Corps so that members of the two divisions… he doesn’t say rebels, but that’s the implications, those who don’t stand by that can be withdrawn with the other two divisions while anyone in those divisions who wants to stay can shift to the Forty-Ninth and 262nd.”
“He’s handing them to you on a platter,” Green exclaimed. “That’s eighteen regiments of experienced soldiers.”
“Probably less than that overall, unit cohesion is a powerful force so there won’t be as many going into those divisions as will leave.” John rubbed his chin. “The other corps in Sixth Army is LII Corps, they used to be in Second Army, stationed here in the Suns before the Coup.”
“You don’t think the entire Sixth Army could turn their coats?” asked Joshua in surprise.
The First Prince shook his head. “Most likely not, but it’s a sign that we still have friends within the SLDF and that’s a good sign.”
“I don’t know that the Star League Council will see it that way,” Reznick told him with a smirk.
-
Terra Prime, Apollo
Apollo Province, Rim Worlds Republic
2 September 2776
The 18th Royals had chosen to join Kerensky in the Rim Worlds and they once again provided security around the Presidential Palace. There had been changes since the first time Phillip Drummond had come here though – most of the elaborate furniture had been removed and replaced with more functional chairs and tables.
“Eventually, I think, this might serve as a museum,” Kerensky informed them. “There are too many associations with Amaris here.”
”I’m not sure we have the budget for a new government complex,” warned Lucien Dormax. “We were hoping for some slack once the SLDF secured Terra but almost every penny of tax collected above the planetary level is still going to the Star League.”
“And they’re going to be sensitive about us reducing the taxes they get from the Rim Worlds now that the Federated Suns is on the brink of secession,” Drummond pointed out.
Kerensky nodded but said nothing. An uneasy silence filled the room – the Protector had said nothing on the topic of John Davion’s announcement, refused to discuss it in fact. After almost two months the elephant in the room had grown to mammoth proportions.
“Everything depends on the foundations.” Cyrus Elam said at last. The engineering officer had retired to take up a nebulously defined post in the new government, primarily focusing on the Rim Worlds’ infrastructure. “If they’re sound then we can proceed without them.”
“Yes. And we cannot wait indefinitely,” Kerensky admitted. “Minister Dormax, please make preparations to move our payments to the Star League back to the more regular levels from before the Coup starting from the beginning of 2777 and provide an estimation of what budget we can expect to be working on at that point.”
“Is that to include the amended taxes from ’52 and ’63?” the politician asked reservedly.
“Of course.”
Drummond held up one finger. “It would be interesting to know how much a difference it would make if those taxes were to be revoked. Merely as data for comparison of course.”
“I can provide an estimation alongside the main one,” agreed Dormax. As a fellow Rim Worlder, he had been quite cordial towards Drummond once Kerensky’s party reached Apollo.
“Moving on to the military front, the Lyrans still have a large number of troops along our border and there have been some raids. Eleventh Army simply can’t be everywhere and we don’t have more than a Corps of our own in practical terms.”
Jerome Winson nodded seriously. The young officer was officially Kerensky’s aide but in practical terms he was emerging as something of a military alter ego for the Protector, representing him at military discussions that government demands prevented the old man from attending. “The troops are still coalescing into their new formations as well. We’ve sixty regiments on paper and the soldiers are veterans but it’ll take time before they’re really ready for action. In the meanwhile, the Lyrans have almost fifty of their regiments along the border, each of them more than twice the size of ours.”
“That may not be entirely correct,” Drummond advised. “That’s their paper strength but a lot of bases that they supposedly have a regiment or battalion in are actually held by smaller forces. Either there’s a shell game going on to hide troop movements or Steiner’s claiming to have more troops than he actually does.”
“Could he be mustering soldiers for an invasion?” asked Dormax.
Kerensky drummed his fingers on the table. “I would like to say that the SLDF would have to react if he tried, but with the Council paralyzed and no First Lord…”
“At this stage I cannot rule it out,” Drummond admitted. “And we’d be hard pressed to focus on an invasion when a lot of the outlying worlds are still shaky. Some of the raiders around the edge of the periphery are pro-Amaris.”
“We need victories,” the Protector said. “Victories will bind those worlds to us and they will dismay our enemies.”
“The best I can offer right now is a lead on Von Strang. Courtesy of John Davion, in fact.”
“That damn Ministry of Intelligence of his,” Dormax exclaimed. “How do they know more of events here than we do?”
“Let’s just be glad he’s still sharing. I suspect we won’t be hearing much from the Federated Suns next year.”
“The lead?” Kerensky enquired firmly.
“Apparently their analysis suggests that the Baron’s base of operations is on Erin, one of the colonies coreward of us. We don’t have confirmation yet, but the numbers he has to support it are reasonably plausible when it comes to travel times.”
“Good.” The old man ran one hand back over his scalp. “I… hmm. Jerome, handle this personally. Pick the three regiments you consider most fit for action and one of the frigates. Officially I’ll name one of the colonels as the commander but I want you to represent me.”
“Understood, sir.”
Drummond raised an eyebrow. Winson was very young and very junior for such a role. Barely in his twenties.
“On the Lyran front.” Kerensky leant forwards. “Where are we seeing most raids? I believe that we shall lay a trap for the Lyrans. Robert Steiner was most unhappy that I received warships from the former Rim Worlds fleet. We will send a corvette upon a patrol in the…?” He arched an eyebrow towards Drummond.
“I’d suggest the Kowloon system, sir. They only have a planetary militia on the surface but the orbital stations would make a logical starting point for a naval base should one be needed in the area. I assume that you’d like the patrol route to be leaked?”
“Indeed so. And I will speak to General Helmick to locate some of his own warships in position to respond. The SLDF will receive the credit for catching the ‘pirates’, the Lyrans will find their forces weakened and the Kowloonese will have a reminder that independence from the Republic will only mean they are open to outside attack.”
“Assuming that it works out. We could lose the corvette.”
“That is unfortunately a risk that must be taken. If we can’t place our ships in harm’s way then there is little point in having them to begin with.”
“Are there any other military matters to discuss?” asked Dormax, glancing up at the clock.
“Those are the concerns at the moment. More discussion can take place with the Protectorate Armed Forces command. I suppose you wish to discuss elections?”
“Yes, sir.”
Kerensky nodded. “What has been agreed then?”
“At the moment we have most of the major worlds in agreement over the basic structure,” the Rim Republican advised. “Their disagreements are mostly in the order of loyal opposition, things that can be worked with. Worlds with populations of more than a million will elect a planetary senate of 99 seats and a governor to head their own internal affairs. The senate will then appoint a representative to the Rim Worlds Congress.”
“And worlds with populations below a million souls?” asked Elam. “Do they get votes?”
“They will be grouped into districts of between four and nine worlds, with a district senate whose membership is divided based on relative population. Each planet will still elect its own governor.”
“That sounds like it could lead to squabbling between the worlds.”
“It already has,” Dormax assured the engineer. “District boundaries are still being fought over. But it’s an acceptable compromise between giving every world a representative or appointing the representatives solely on population – which would give many worlds no voice at all in the Congress.”
“So, when may we expect a Rim Worlds Congress to convene?” Kerensky sounded more resigned than hopeful.
“Less than a year as things stand. April or May of 2777 would be my estimation.”
“A lot of things can change by then,” Drummond observed. “Let us hope they’re for the better.”
.o0O0o.
Avalon City, New Avalon
Crucis March, Federated Suns
24 September 2776
John slumped in his chair, ignoring the Italian opera with long practise. “Well it was always a slim chance.”
Hanse nodded. “It was absolutely worth the try, but the Star League’s fundamental premise makes leaving outside states alone very unlikely. If the Council doesn’t send the SLDF to force you back into the League they’d be tacitly accepting that their own realms will be doing the same.”
“Aaron said that the Captain-General and Coordinator have even sent payments towards the upkeep of the SLDF. Apparently, the threat of the throne they’re after not meaning anything anymore motivates them more than it being occupied by a usurper.” John shrugged wearily. “But they’re not willing to take the one step more to avert this.”
“Quite honestly, if I was looking at the lords of my own time… I wouldn’t want Maximilian Liao or his younger daughter on the throne. Or Takashi Kurita although I might bend as far as one of the Mariks.” Hanse shrugged. “Things are swinging pretty heavily towards the SLDF crossing the border next year to take us back by force.”
“I knew it could happen. I planned for it. I just never wanted it.”
The redhead nodded. “Well, we’ll be looking at another fourteen regiments and their supporting elements if the Forty-Ninth and the 262nd defect – half ‘Mechs, half infantry for the line units. Call it seven brigades by our standards.”
“It would be chancy to have them fight the SLDF though,” John noted. “That could be asking too much. There are garrisons further from the Hegemony where they can free up soldiers.”
“That makes sense. Give them longer to build up roots and reorganise.” Hanse hummed along with the opera for a while.
“Everyone seems to agree that if the SLDF comes in that I can expect house troops, at least from the Combine and Confederation,” John said at last. “It’s not clear where they’ll strike though.”
“Historically, the Capellans went for the worlds around Chesterton and Jinjiro cut through Clovis and then broke open the border as far as Sakhara V.”
Clovis was near the Terran Hegemony while Sakhara V was about halfway to the Outworlds Alliance. “And as deep as Odell and Delavan, we’ll have to do better this time.” Those worlds were only a single jump away from New Avalon.
Hanse leant forwards. “The SLDF will be pushing out from the Hegemony most probably – their bases in the Combine are a mess and the Confederation’s really aren’t any better. I’d expect their goal will be to push as far as New Avalon and hope that taking the capital forces you to capitulate.”
“If Barbara and Minoru are trying to support that strategy then the most direct routes would be past Robinson in the Draconis March and Kathil in the Capellan March.” John considered. “I suspect they’d be thinking back to the worlds annexed during the Reunification War and keeping an eye out for what they might be able to take and keep.”
“More than likely. If that’s the case then the chances are that they won’t want to bypass the Chesterton region or Marduk. The political and industrial gains would look too promising.”
“I think we can stop them. I’m not so sure that we can stop the SLDF though,” John admitted. “Just the idea of going up against men and women we’ve been working with for so long is going to be very hard on morale in the AFFS. And then there’s the numbers.”
“Then probably the best idea is not to fight them. Have troops withdraw ahead of them or go to ground, while hammering the Combine and the Confederation.” Hanse rubbed his chin. “The impression I get is that the funding isn’t there to throw the SLDF at us full scale. If we can inflict severe reverses on the flanking thrusts, perhaps even counter-attack, then they’ll be screaming for the SLDF to support them, which they won’t be able to do without either abandoning their offensive or getting more funding and supplies.”
John nodded. “Which they won’t be getting from Kenyon Marik or Robert Steiner. Possibly not even from Kerensky. Putting the Rim Worlds taxes back on a regular basis means less money for the Star League treasury from that direction. Would the Council dare send the SLDF to demand that he keep paying basically his entire federal tax revenue into their coffers?”
“Maybe if they weren’t also having to look at us,” said Hanse. “As it is, if the Star League does come apart, I’d expect Eleventh Army to defect to him immediately. He’s got that much prestige, unlike the other Council Lords.”
Picking up his noteputer, John scrolled through the data there. “Of course, if the SLDF throws a fleet directly at New Avalon we have big problems. They could blockade us, pick off the HPG stations in range of New Avalon and then the army can sweep up rest of Suns while they’re not getting any directions from us.”
“It wouldn’t be in line with SLDF doctrine,” Hanse noted. “As long as DeChevilier kept the DCMS and CCAF out of the fighting that could work, but it won’t succeed if they cross the border. There’s no chance that Vasily or Rita would back down with Capellans or Draconians in their Marchs. You should set up a fall-back capital for Joshua, just in case though.”
“If it comes to a major naval campaign against the Star League, we’re going to have to throw nuclear weapons at them like fire crackers. I’m not sure we have enough in stock,” the First Prince noted dourly. “Even with the production we’ve been building up over the last ten years we’ll badly need the SLDF stockpiles.”
“If that succeeds then we’ll be fine but I agree it’s not something to count on. Perhaps the Tortuga factories can be expanded. One thing we can rely upon is that this won’t be a quick war.”
“Not unless I surrender.” He looked up and saw Hanse giving him a questioning look. “I don’t think I can do that though. If they can’t govern the Star League, how could I justify putting the Federated Suns into their hands?”
“Given the back-channel diplomacy we’ve had, there’s a narrow majority who’re trying to find some sort of compromise,” his descendant said. “Unfortunately, they can’t agree on what to do as a compromise.”
“And we haven’t had any feelers from Sian or from Luthien, which I suppose shows where the war faction is centred.”
“That really shouldn’t surprise you, John.” Hanse slumped into his chair. “You’d better start looking at directing your diplomacy towards the SLDF rather than the lords. Maybe you can peel a few more divisions away from the SLDF. Nineteenth Army was disbanded into Third and Fourth Armies – that might provide a pool of favourably inclined troops.”
“I think Jack Lucas would order firing squads for anyone trying to convince his troops to defect,” John pointed out. “Fourth Army though… that’s McGuinness still, and Baptiste before her. They know the Federated Suns.”
“There’s a better than average chance they’ll be called on as the core of the Star League’s task force. They’re stationed in Lockdale province, which leaves them the closest to the Suns now that Sixth Army is withdrawing.”
The two Davions exchanged looks and the corner of John’s lips quirked upwards. “That could work,” he said quietly.
“It wouldn’t win the war but it would rock them back on their heels,” Hanse agreed. “Assuming that we’re on the same page and you’re not just thinking about painting all their ‘Mechs with a sunburst and claiming ownership.”
“Something a little more subtle. We can’t win this war by force of arms. It has to be in their hearts and minds.”
John would only realise much later that at some point in the conversation he’d let go of the idea that he could avoid a war with the Star League. For better or for worse, the dice had been cast and all he could do now was see how they came down.
-
Every avalanche starts with a few pebbles moving, and they are moving now. It's just seeing if people can either stop it, get out of the way, or be crushed underneath.
-
Every avalanche starts with a few pebbles moving, and they are moving now. It's just seeing if people can either stop it, get out of the way, or be crushed underneath.
Well this avalanche was or is being started by just a few stubborn boulders that can prevent it by picking a head boulder.
-
Unity City, Terra
Alliance Core, Terran Hegemony
5 November 2776
“Commanding General,” Barbara Liao greeted Aaron DeChevilier as he entered the council chamber. “Thank you for making time in your busy schedule for us.”
“While I am, of course, glad to be of service,” he growled. “The laws of physics are a little inflexible. I came back to Terra as quickly as I was able once I received your summons.”
“While we all appreciate your attention to duty, I think most of us expected to find you, if not in the headquarters building down the road, then at least no further away than New Earth,” Minoru Kurita said calmly. “I hope your business on Inglesmond wasn’t some incipient crisis?”
“If you’ve come to some sort of agreement over the post of First Lord or a compromise with Lord Davion then I suppose it’s not going to be a long-term concern,” DeChevilier told the Coordinator and glanced around the room. “Hmm. Well, in that case you’ll perhaps be displeased to know that military options have been set back a couple of weeks at least.”
Keith Cameron groaned. “Why not take a seat, General? I take it that this might be a long story.”
“I’m fine to stand, sir. And no doubt the Captain-General can fill in any gaps that I miss.”
Kenyon Marik assumed a pose of injured innocence. “Lord Marik?” asked Kurita curiously. “What might be your involvement in affairs along my border with the Hegemony?”
“I have not the least idea what is being referred to.”
“Let me refresh your memory,” suggested DeChevilier. “The 250th BattleMech Division – one of the Seventh Army divisions short-listed for deployment to the Federated Suns?”
“Oh, the… what was the name, the Leningrad Division?”
“Stalingrad Division. You might want to remember the name now that they work for you, not for the Star League.”
“They what?” asked Robert Steiner in some alarm.
“Oh!” Marik exclaimed as if coming to a recollection. “Are they… oh yes, they must be the people David Stewart has been speaking to. Well, that’s nothing to do with me.”
“David Stewart, as in the Earl of the Stewart Commonality, one of your closest political allies?” asked Liao sceptically. She turned to DeChevilier. “Please start from the beginning, general.”
“The first I heard of it was an alarmed message from LIII Corps command, telling me an entire Division had retired en masse,” he advised her tersely. “That was on the twentieth of last month. They’re also refusing to surrender their equipment.”
“Their ‘Mechs?” asked Steiner.
DeChevilier laughed sharply. “Everything from their sidearms up to their dropships. Like I said, they were earmarked for redeployment to the border with the Suns. Instead they were loading everything up and when I got there I was given a bank draft. It seems they’ve raised a loan for the buyout costs of everything.”
“For an entire division? That’s billions of dollars,” Cameron noted.
“And apparently underwritten by the Captain-General’s fellow Shakespeare aficionado, Earl Stewart.”
“I do hope the money has been accounted for,” Marik said piously. “Temptation is a terrible thing.”
“What is your part in this?” asked Liao suspiciously.
“I have no part at all,” he protested. “But David is an old friend. If he feels that the SLDF’s no longer providing sufficient security to the Commonality then I can hardly fault him for reinforcing his provincial brigade with additional forces.”
“How can a vest-pocket province afford six ‘Mech regiments and the rest of a division?” demanded Steiner. “What could he offer them?”
“Oh, I gather they’re not a permanent acquisition. The… not Petrograd… yes. The Stalingrad Division -” Marik stressed the name vindictively. “- will apparently be working for the highest bidder once their five-year contract with David expires.”
“Mercenaries?” DeChevilier’s face went red. “They’ve gone for mercenaries?”
“Really, if your leadership isn’t strong enough then you can hardly expect me to take the blame, General DeChevilier.”
“Alex shouldn’t have cashiered you over Pollux, he should have had you shot.”
The blood drained out of the younger man’s face. “How dare you?”
“Shot like the civilians you had gunned down. That’s about your speed, Marik. Firing on unarmed civilians… no, that’s a dis-service. Having someone else shoot at unarmed civilians and then hiding behind your father’s rank.”
“You will show me respect or you’ll be the one cashiered!” Marik rose sharply to his feet, leaning over the desk. “You insolent Feddie farmhand!”
“Respect? I show you the respect you deserve! You gutless weasel! You’re sitting here pissing on everything your ancestors built just because you want a pretty chair. Well even if you sit in the throne one day, which I doubt, it’ll never change the fact you’re the son of a whore and a drunken moron!”
“That is out of line!” Kurita exclaimed, throwing one arm out to restrain Marik. “General, I demand that you retract those words.”
“Like hell,” DeChevilier replied savagely. It felt good to stop holding back. “You’re no better, Kurita. The vaunted strength and honour of the dragon, but you crawled when Amaris took Terra. Everyone knows you don’t have the balls to fight a real enemy.”
“It does not surprise me that you have such a limited grasp of the situation,” Kurita replied coldly.
“Does it gall me that you can’t demand I go out into a garden and cut myself open for the offense of pointing out what a pathetic little excuse for a man you are? Every real leader on the Council left a long time, and now all that’s left is the dregs.”
“If you feel that way,” Steiner told him, “Then why don’t you follow Kerensky to Apollo or Davion to New Avalon? If you hold us, hold the Star League in such contempt, then you have no place leading the Star League.”
DeChevilier laughed in his face. “You think you’re the Star League? You? No wonder we’re in such a mess if you idiots think that’s the case.”
“Get out of here,” Marik demanded. “Get those rank pins off, get off Terra, get out of my sight. I swear, I’ll see you swing if I find you in the League, DeChevilier. You’re Kerensky’s dog, go lick his heels.”
“Shut up!” roared Cameron. “Shut up all of you!”
The portly Director General rose to his feet. “Terra is mine, Marik. You can do what you want on Atreus but you don’t get to tell me who comes and goes on my capital.”
“Oh of course, but do you think he holds you in higher regard?”
“I know that he doesn’t.” Cameron gripped the edge of the table. “General DeChevilier, I believe I speak for the Star League Council when I ask for your resignation.”
“And if I decline? I suppose you’ll cashier me?”
“You can insist on that if you want,” said Liao quietly. “Because you’ve certainly built a faction that would vote for that.”
“If it was only so easy to get you to vote for something useful.” DeChevilier reached up to his left shoulder and pulled off the commanding general’s rank pins. The four stars had never felt right to him anyway. He threw them on the floor. “You’ll have my letter of resignation by sunset.”
.o0O0o.
SLDF Headquarters, New Earth
Alliance Core, Terran Hegemony
23 December 2776
Jack Lucas found the commanding general’s office echoingly empty. Almost church-like. He’d tried singing a hymn one night when he was working late and the acoustics were amazing.
Quite a rise, Jack, he thought. It was almost a month since the unexpected news on his fifty-first birthday. After almost three weeks of uncertainty, the Star League Council had chosen him as Aaron DeChevilier’s successor. A dozen years ago he’d thought he’d be looking at retirement by this age, maybe having reached the heady heights of brigade command. A dozen years of war, fighting to preserve the Star League. Now he had to do it again.
“Sir?” Elizabeth Hazen had stepped in as his aide. The former guerrilla’s experience on Helena Cameron’s staff had prepared her well to act as his guide to the politics of his new role. “Your call is ready.”
“Thank you, Colonel.” He cleared the last file from his desk and a moment later five more desks appeared in front of him, holographic representations of four men and one woman, all light years away.
“May I take the opportunity to wish you a merry Christmas, General Lucas,” offered Robert Steiner from his seat on Tharkad. The Archon, like all the lords, had scattered to their homeworlds after Jack had been sworn in. They’d be able to spend the season with their families.
“And the same to you, sir.” Jack had been born in the Lyran Commonwealth and was still a citizen there. He wasn’t sure what part that might have played in his appointment. “Although I hope, of course, that there will be a gift of peace.”
“That seems regrettably unlikely, General. The First Prince has given no indication of backing down.”
Keith Cameron nodded agreement. “He’s got one more week but since I can’t see the Council electing a First Lord by then – or convening again even like this…”
“We do have work to carry out on our homeworlds,” the Chancellor pointed out. “Now, shall we proceed with the purpose of this meeting?”
“By all means.” Minoru Kurita stroked his moustache. “General, should John Davion proceed with his announced intentions of seceding from the Star League, we appreciate you cannot prevent him from putting this plan into action. We must instruct you though to bring the Federated Suns back into the Star League with all despatch and to apprehend John Davion to answer charges before the Star League Council.”
“I see.” Lucas folded his hands before him. The first sentence could be discounted: Davion had declared the conditions that were required to prevent him from rebelling and the Lords were making it clear they wouldn’t meet them. Since Davion was, if nothing else, a man of his word it must be accepted that the SLDF would be going to war. “Might I ask the specific charges?”
“As he is a sworn member of the Council, he will be guilty of treason. As he is an officer of the SLDF, he will be guilty of mutiny.” Kurita released his moustache. “Since we must assume he will seize Star League property, we must add grand theft to the list – those properties include no less than thirty planets still under the administration of the First Lord, which I suppose must make it theft on a truly unprecedented scale.”
“I would add industrial espionage to that,” Keith Cameron added. “The list of military weapon systems he’s manufacturing is rather longer than the list of those for which he has licenses. He’s been building Mark VI Alacorns, for example, when he’s only licensed for slightly improved Mark III and Mark IV models.”
“How scandalous,” Steiner murmured.
Kurita nodded. “Treason, mutiny, grand theft and industrial espionage then. Ideally he will have the chance to defend himself in a court of law but I appreciate he may choose not to be taken alive.”
“I see. I take it that putting down the insurgency takes priority over his apprehension?” asked the general, stone-face.
Steiner cleared his throat. “I don’t believe we’ve put it in those terms but I think that’s the correct priority, yes. Do I hear any argument?”
The others shook their heads. “Your predecessor indicated doubts about the SLDF’s ability to carry out this mission when we discussed it with him previously,” Marik advised coldly. “Do you share those doubts, General?”
“Certainty is a matter for God, Captain-General,” Lucas replied, bowing his head over his hands for a moment. “With that said, plans have been made and if you’re prepared to provide the necessary support then I believe we can carry out the mission you’ve outlined.”
“I’m relieved to hear that.”
Barbara Liao shook her head lightly. “Before you relax, Lord Marik, let us hear what that support is. I take it that you mean the support of corps of troops from my own military forces and those of Lord Kurita? We’ve agreed in principle to those deployments and preparations are underway.”
“The two principal requests I must make of you are for time and for money,” Lucas told her. “With the best will in the world, it will take some months to complete the necessary deployments both of personnel, shipping and supplies to launch an effective attack. Six months from now I can assure you that two armies of the SLDF will be ready to spearhead a drive towards New Avalon. Before that I could only offer more limited operations that might well not be sufficient for the task you’ve given me.”
“I believe we can agree to that schedule,” Lord Kurita agreed. “It will take some time for the DCA to complete its own movements and naturally an army must conform to the naval schedule if it expects to be escorted anywhere.”
“Precisely, sir.”
“And how much funding do you expect to need?” asked Marik. “We’ve already increased our contributions to the Star League.”
“In order to purchase the necessary supplies to operate more than thirty divisions in operations that could last for years, the SLDF will need a further one hundred and fifty billion dollars each month.”
There was a dull silence after Lucas’ words.
“If it would be easier, you could provide the supplies directly,” he offered after a moment. “I can provide an itemised list.”
“If you gentlemen would be so good as to pay closer to your pre-war tax contributions, that shouldn’t be too hard for you,” Barbara said lightly. “Not you, Lord Cameron, of course. I’m aware you’re not holding back but I don’t see why my people should pay disproportionately.”
Steiner cleared his throat. “Let’s not take up the Commanding General’s time with these discussion of how the costs will be borne. If you’d be so good as to forward us the list we’ll see what can be provided directly and what we’ll cover financially.”
“Of course, Archon Steiner.” Lucas made a note. “I’ll send the information directly. I’ve taken the liberty of ordering General Baptiste to New Rhodes III to establish a forward headquarters for her Army Group.”
“Won’t you be taking command directly?” asked Steiner in surprise.
“I expect I’ll be dividing my time between the forward headquarters and SLDF headquarters here on New Earth. That being the case, General Baptiste will be acting as the operational commander. She’s our only remaining officer experienced in handling multiple armies.”
“Yes,” Liao murmured. “Although we did pass over her in appointing you as the Commanding General. Do you expect that to cause difficulties?”
Lucas considered that for a moment. “No, Chancellor. General Baptiste and I have an excellent working relationship. I served under her command in Fourth Army and then alongside her in Army Group Eleven before she was promoted to take over Army Group Fourteen. Given her experience, particularly within the Federated Suns – she’s the only remaining Army commander of the pre-war Federated Suns military region, I believe she’s the best choice for this position.”
“She also worked very closely with General Davion.”
“Yes, Coordinator. As such, she has unparalleled insight into his likely strategies. Do you have concerns you’d like to raise?”
Kurita frowned and fiddled with his moustache again. “Hmmm. I suppose, having appointed you, it would be unwise to then second-guess your decisions,” he conceded. “You expect this to take several years?”
“They have respectable border fortifications in the Draconis March and Capellan March. It seems reasonable to project that General Baptiste and the Capellan forces may enter the Crucis March a year from now. Given the greater distances, I respectfully feel that the DCMS could be in striking distance of Robinson by that point.”
“I shall do my best to surpass your expectations, General. Or more precisely, my son Jinjiro shall take command of our Expeditionary Corps. He has expressed to me how impressive and decisive your aggressive tactics have proven to be in the Hegemony campaigns, so you may reply upon him to press the offensive with great vigour.”
“I look forward to working with your son, sir.” Beware of flattery, Lucas reminded himself, thinking back to Hazen’s advice. Indeed, beware of everything the Council say.
.o0O0o.
Avalon City, New Avalon
Crucis March, Federated Suns
1 January 2777
“Last chance to change your mind,” Thomas Green-Davion warned.
“The last chance was back in July,” John told his old friend. “I know this is hard for you.”
“How did we come to this point?”
He didn’t answer except to put one hand briefly on the other man’s shoulder for what comfort it could offer.
When John turned to go, Edwina held him back for a moment, adjusting his uniform’s decorations briefly. “Be strong,” she murmured and clasped his hands in hers for a moment.
Then he had to go out alone – Hanse had offered to stand by him when no one else would know, but some things the First Prince had to do alone.
Familiar steps from the door out and onto the steps of the Chancellery of the Exchequer. A podium had been prepared, subtle armoured glass panels around it. Holographic projectors cast his head and shoulders up above the building for the crowd that were waiting, murmuring. Against all objections, the road had been opened to foot traffic and tens of thousands – perhaps more than a hundred thousand – had entered the palace grounds to stand before him now.
Touching the small screen John saw the opening to his carefully planned speech. In the corner of the display the clock told him the unforgiving facts.
“My fellow citizens of the Federated Suns,” he began, “Citizens of the Star League.”
There was a rising tide of voiceless sound as the meaning of that distinction sank in.
“On the ninth of July I gave the Star League Council a deadline, by which time they must agree to a First Lord of the Star League. By doing so they would show that the Star League remained viable, could continue to survive and once again thrive as it once did. By failing to do so, they would prove the opposite and thus, I warned them, I would announce the Federated Suns’ departure from the Star League.”
“That deadline, as we all know, was today. The first day of 2777. I must now advise you, that as of twelve noon Terran Standard Time, no First Lord has been appointed. Nor has any other leadership proposal been agreed upon. With grave regret I must consider this to be a mortal wound to the integrity of the Star League.”
John reached forward and gripped the podium. “I love the Star League. It is flawed and it has soured, but it is a pursuit of the noblest of dreams, that all men and women are brothers and sisters and should live in peace with one another. That dream may continue, but the Star League can no longer sustain it. It is my hope that the Federated Suns will one day see those dreams followed again. But that day is not today.”
“I, John Davion, First Prince of the Federated Suns, with the advice and consent of the High Council, hereby declare the withdrawal of the Federated Suns from the Star League Accords and from the Star League itself.”
Silence fell.
Was it that easy? Was it that simple? So few words, every one a dagger digging into him.
“I am not declaring war upon the Star League or upon any of its member states. I harbour no ambitions at their expense and lay no claim to worlds beyond the borders of the Federated Suns. I am entirely content to live at peace with other states as they work out their own fates. To trade with them, to have our citizens visit them and theirs visit ours. To rebuild the understandings that we once had.”
“I do not know that the remains of the Star League will accept that. I know that even a dying creature may lash out and cause great harm. We shall have to learn how this decision is taken on Terra, on Sian and on Luthien and on the other worlds of the Inner Sphere. I hope that the leaders of the Star League will show wisdom and maturity, as I have hoped all these years. Perhaps I will not be disappointed.”
“Nonetheless, our paths have been separated. Over the course of the next twelve months, the Star League dollar will be replaced as our currency with the Federated Suns pound. I will allay some concerns and assure you that our currency will remain decimal rather than the twelve penny shilling that was suggested, twelve shillings to the pound. It might be more divisible, but it might cause problems for accounting.”
There was a ripple of laughter at the lunatic fringe for that particular suggestion, which had gained some… currency over the last few months.
“The various social programmes the Star League has engaged in will be taken up by the government of the Federated Suns as Star League offices are absorbed into our administration. Star League legislative bodies will be merged into our own, in the form of the High Council, while House Davion will be taking on the executive responsibilities that were once held by House Cameron.” Which included him becoming Duke of New Avalon formally although John had promised not to diminish the authority of the High Council, so the right to call and dismiss them would be quietly consigned to history as a compromise, though he would retain the right to grant noble titles and responsibility for the non-member worlds until they could receive membership.
John slowly let go of the podium. “Although I hope for peace with our neighbours, history has shown that he who would enjoy peace must prepare for war. I am therefore announcing today the formation of new regiments within the Armed Forces of the Federated Suns. The seven regiments of the Federated Suns Lancers and the seven regiments of the Federated Suns Foot are made up of men and women who have fought alongside the AFFS against the Usurper and who have chosen to stand with us in this time of uncertainty.”
Summoned by those words, fourteen officers exited the doors behind John and descended the steps to form a line to either side of his podium. “Ladies and gentlemen, the oath of allegiance.”
Well cued, the colonels in green uniforms still unfamiliar to them, spoke with one voice as they pledged their allegiance to the Federated Suns, obedience to the First Prince and duty to people of the Federation. John spoke the words along with them on the first and third clauses of the oath and when they reached the end, he shook their hands in turn before they dispersed to either side.
Up above them, with precise choreography, a flight of aerospace fighters descended over the palace. Six fighters flew over, one peeling up and away from the others as they continued over the crowd. It was a symbolism that could be taken more than one way but as the fighters disappeared, the flag of the Star League, which had flown alongside that of the Federated Suns for more than 205 years descended the flagpole and a long, sad bugle called out.
Across hundreds of light years, as the message reached worlds across the Federated Suns, thousands more flags would be taken down and hundreds of Star League facilities would be taken over, peacefully if at all possible. Most of the personnel had been forewarned and precautions had been taken for those cases where resistance might take place. The last thing John wanted was to stain this terrifying day with blood.
“Ladies and gentlemen,” the First Prince of the Federated Suns said, the loudspeakers repeating the words across the packed crowd, transmitters sending it to every world in his realm and to thousands more beyond. “We are now faced with a new year and it is for us to decide what we will make of it. Let us make it a year, a future, that we can be proud to pass on to our descendants.”
.o0O0o.
Fort Degurechaff, Lambrecht
Lone Star Province, Terran Hegemony
7 January 2777
There were fresh lines on Major General Marissa Miller’s face as she called the meeting to order. “I assume you’ve been keeping up on current affairs,” she told them. “If not, it’s been made official that the Star League Council have ordered us to suppress the Federated Suns’ rebellion against the Star League.”
“Who’d have thought Davion of all people would break ranks?” Marge Pritchard muttered from beside Ethan Moreau. “Kurita, maybe. But him?”
“Strange universe,” he agreed softly.
Miller gave her officers a few moments to process that fact before she continued. “General Lucas has passed down instructions that four divisions from Seventh Army will be transferred to General McGuinness’ Fourth Army to take part in the invasion. Originally, the 250th BattleMech Division was going to be taking point but since they’re… no longer available, it’ll be us.”
Pritchard rubbed her cheek. “Maybe they had the right idea. Who wants to fight the Feddies?”
“Thank you for that commentary, Major Pritchard,” Miller said sharply. “As it happens, your qualms – moral or otherwise – are beside the point since you’ll not be going.”
“Wait, what?”
The division commander rubbed her own face. “We’re still having to reorganise around gaps caused by… retirements,” she explained. “And your battalion is technically only a temporary attachment. Fifteenth Army have made a request for supporting armoured units, so we’ll be parting ways.”
“Crap.” Pritchard pinched the bridge of her nose. “Fifteenth is in the Combine. They’re ******. Did they say where?”
“Hachiman.”
“Hachiman? Where’s Hachiman?”
“Galedon District, somewhere in Oshika Prefecture,” Major Stephan Cage informed her. “Used to be the 160th Mechanized Infantry’s post.”
“You’re a font of useless information, Cage. How do you know where the 160th were stationed?”
“I happened to get drunk with one of their artillery officers when they were going north through Panama,” the MechWarrior explained. “He said it was a pretty good posting.”
Pritchard groaned. “Trade you?”
“You’d have to give up your Demon for a ‘Mech.”
“You’re getting my tank over my cold dead body, Cage.”
“If the comedy act is over,” Moreau said drily, “Perhaps we should finish the briefing?”
Pritchard grabbed his uniform jacket. “I’m being emotionally distraught here. You were much more considerate when we were both lieutenants.”
“He said finish the briefing, not start flirting,” Miller observed. “I’m afraid we’re losing you too though Ethan.”
His head jerked up and away from Pritchard’s. “Ma’am?”
“There’s a ‘stray ‘Mech brigade in Fourth Army and it seems the high command would rather not ship them back in our place so I had to give up one of our ‘Mech Brigades to make room for them. Sorry, Ethan, but you’re just too damn competent. If I have to give someone up, at least I know you’re not going to get everyone killed doing something stupid.”
Moreau shook his head. “That’s… unexpected.” He wasn’t sure what to think. He wasn’t exactly keen on having to turn his ‘Mech’s guns on AFFS soldiers, some of whom had been fighting alongside the SLDF since the Periphery Uprisings… but on the other hand, leaving the rest of the division to do so alone?
“Really? I thought I’d conveyed the idea you were less of a ******-up than most of the people in this room when I picked you for brigade command.” Miller shrugged. “You’ll need to show some confidence to General Kaspar – I know, unfortunate name - when you report in; you’re representing the 225th, even if you’re not going to be with us.”
“I’ll do my best,” he said doubtfully, trying to place the name. Kaspar… after a moment he recalled that the former commander of the 39th Royal BattleMech Division had been given IX Corps after General Verschaffelt retired. “So, I’ll be reporting directly to Corps command?”
“Yes, that’s normal for division commanders.”
“…pardon?”
“Since the 39th Royals defected back to the Hegemony, IX Corps hasn’t had a BattleMech division. Tyrell Kaspar’s been given permission to reform the Ninth BattleMech Division and apparently your name came up when he was considering potential commanders. I assume that either your close personal friendship with General Kerensky or the Order of the Sword swayed things.”
“I’ve only met the general twice,” Moreau protested. “Taking a very loose view of ‘met’ since the second time was Moscow.”
“Then I have no idea but take the rank pins as a consolation prize. We’ll be counting on you to keep the Hegemony from collapsing while we’re out reasoning with John Davion.”
“Feels weird, doesn’t it?” Pritchard confided to him.
“Yeah.” He felt his fist clench under the table and forced himself to relax them. “I’m surprised IX Corps wasn’t selected for this mission, actually. They were stationed in the Suns with Second Army, weren’t they? And right on the borders, which is where you’ll be fighting.”
“The Corps was, but most of the people got moved on as replacements with wartime recruits taking their places by the time they were sent to Seventh Army back in ’72,” Miller reminded him. “And IX Corps was the first SLDF force to re-enter the Hegemony after the coup – that’s what tore up the original Ninth ‘Mech. They’re a proud unit. Now, getting away from second-guessing the high command, we’re going to have some logistics to sort out. Not only ours but dependents…”
Moreau leant back, only partially taking note of what was said. His own division? Either the SLDF thought more of him than he thought or they were getting short of officers suitable for promotion.
The thought took him back to one of the papers in his case. Director-General Cameron had offered Hegemony citizenship to every member of the SLDF after his election. Moreau had joked with Prichard that it was another recruiter’s ploy but… the thought of going back to the Free Worlds League didn’t especially appeal, after the way they’d acted during his training.
If Abbey District didn’t want him, would the Hegemony be a place for a fresh start? He’d spent the better part of ten years moving from one Hegemony world to another and most of them seemed to be reasonable places to live – except for Sabik, of course. He wasn’t planning to quit the SLDF but some day he’d want somewhere to go home to.
It would be nice to have the option, he thought. Many people had dual citizenship, why shouldn’t he?
-
Wow! That's a great update!
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man, ouch, i wounder how many people know just how hard this is for john. :'( They are also in for a rude awakening I think. Well not the SLDF i think as they were fighting with them for a long time but the house armys are going to get there teeth fu%$ed out when they realize just how good the Feddies have gotten and how good there equipment is now. >:D
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I agree the Liao and Kurita troops are going to be in this and kinda forgot that the Davion forces have been fighting along side the SLDF troops.
And gee I wonder if Steiner and Marik will have "Pirates" hit Liao and Kurita in the backside when they get dragged into a war they aren't ready for.
And what will Kerensky do...
I can't wait for more
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I'm very curious to see how this diverges from the outline... I thought DeChevalier stayed in charge in that telling...
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Looking at the TRO, why does the Jack have jumpjets and space adaption?
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Looking at the TRO, why does the Jack have jumpjets and space adaption?
My guess would be to perform a five-fingered shopping trip of former SLDF Warships that are currently in Kurita and Liao hands.
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THAT would be awesome... :thumbsup:
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Yeah, but the spec sheet says it was developed for assaulting Castles Brian, and those aren't useful there.
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Yeah, but the spec sheet says it was developed for assaulting Castles Brian, and those aren't useful there.
Well, it would have been useful for helping capturerescue SLDF Warships that Amaris had commandeered, because the only difference likely to be found between Castles Brian and the corridors of a Warship are the presence or absence of gravity.
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Not really, both of those things are rather useless in a Castle Brian, and a lack of specialization is rather odd for BT
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While the original goal was to use the Jack in Castle Brians, the FSN marines also had an interest and rather than developing another suit or variant, the developers made a single suit.
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Broadly I wanted to say how amazing I am finding this - gripping drama, excellent writing and an amazing rate of production!
On the Jack, I would have thought that space sealing would work against things like chemical weapons as well and given the scale of a Castle Brian I'm sure there would be spaces large enough to benefit from the added mobility of jump jets while they would also aid in approaching the castle either across the kill zone of the defence guns or allowing suborbital drops. Finally, input from Hanse Davion's ghost would include a knowledge of Clan Elementals and so it helps to know something is possible when making a design.
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As usual, strong plotlines & dynamic characters! Thanks for sharing.
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Avalon City, New Avalon
Crucis March, Federated Suns
15 March 2777
The holo-display lit up on time. Whatever Hanse might have to say about Jerome Blake, the man was undeniably punctual. The dark hair and beard were much the same, the face a little more lined and he’d changed his glasses since John had last seen him. “Minister Blake. I must say, I’m surprised to hear from you. I imagine the Council would consider contacting me to be a questionable action on your part.”
Blake shrugged. “They’ve given me no orders to sever communications with the Federated Suns, Lord Davion. That might be an oversight on their part, but it happens to be true.”
“Technically it’s no longer proper to call me Lord Davion, Minister. I’m no longer one of the Council Lords.”
“Are you really discussing etiquette with him?” Hanse asked in amusement.
“Very well, Prince Davion. I suppose I can promote you to being a royal pain in the neck, rather than just a pain in the neck then.”
“You know, we probably saved him from a very nasty accident on Dieron, by changing events. I gather that’s how he came to Kerensky’s attention in my timeline, rather than setting up those HPG relay stations.”
John ignored Hanse’s speculation. “That’s a rather informal way of addressing me. A little refreshing though. So how am I paining your neck?”
“You know perfectly well; by usurping control of a quarter of my network.”
John felt his lips curl. “Well I can hardly expect the Star League to handle my internal communications once I’ve withdrawn.”
“That doesn’t change the fact that the stations belong to the Star League’s Ministry of Communications,” Blake insisted. “The facilities and also the staff.”
“The stations belonged to the Star League, as did many other facilities that have nothing to do with you,” John pointed out wryly. “Why would I treat the HPGs any differently? And the personnel are more than welcome to leave the Suns if they want. I’ll even pay for their passage; the offer’s been made to them.”
The Terran hunched his shoulders. “Your highness, I’m charged with keeping the network of communications going across the Inner Sphere. I can’t do that if it’s being carved into national fiefs.”
“Well that’s a problem for the Star League.”
“I don’t deny that, but it’s also a problem for you.” Blake met John’s eyes. “I can’t believe I’m having to tell you of all people to look beyond your borders. I don’t want to sound as if I’m threatening you, but if I am ordered to black you out it would be very damaging to your trade and to… other matters that involve receiving information from outside the Suns.”
“It would be a problem, yes.”
“I’d rather remain neutral in this. Frankly, I’m not unsympathetic to your position. But you’ve set a precedent that could set all my work to nothing if other the other Lords follow your suite.”
“He’s trying to set up ComStar!” Hanse exclaimed. “A ‘neutral’ communications body!” the ghost used his fingers to make quote signs as he said neutral.
“I don’t want you to think I’m unsympathetic to you, Minister Blake. I’d point out that thus far the Federal Broadcasting Agency has been relaying signals you send us to the destination systems without any fee to your ministry, just as you’ve been relaying our messages onwards. That seems to be working so far.”
The younger man pushed his glasses up and rubbed his eyes. “Prince Davion, how long do you think you can keep your HPGs running without parts from the Hegemony?”
“I’m afraid that that’s information I’m not prepared to divulge,” John said. “But probably longer than they’d keep sending messages for me if I handed over my internal communications to the Star League. Let’s be honest – to all practical purposes they’re at war with me. The only reason the SLDF hasn’t crossed the border is that they’re getting their forces in place.”
“That’s -”
“Let me finish.” John lowered the hand he’d raised. “If you’re in charge of my HPG communications and the SLDF order you to cut off my contact, you’d have very little way to deny them. You’re on Terra, surrounded by them. And that would make it very difficult for me to coordinate the defence of my realm. I’d prefer to work with you, rather than against you, but I can’t trust the security of my communications to someone who could be coerced by the Star League. I’m sorry, but that’s how it is.”
“I’m sorry, too,” Blake said heavily. “I’m going to have to embargo any purchases of HPG parts by your Federated Broadcasting Agency – or by any intermediaries. I don’t know if you’re relying on such purchases, on a professional level it would be better if you don’t, but I can’t extend that sort of support to a… a rival network.”
John nodded. “It’s a difficult line to tread and I understand your position. I’d prefer to maintain the current level of… co-operation in place. And if matters should settle down and you want to establish new HPGs within our borders then I might be able to work something out, but I can’t leave MiniCom as the sole provider.”
“I’m not sure I could support the expense of a network over part of the commercial market – since I assume that government traffic would be exclusively be by your new agency,” Blake answered. “I have the disturbing notion that the point is moot though and that the current situation will deteriorate rather than stabilise.”
“You might be right. HPGs are strategic targets, after all. I’m afraid your mission may be doomed to failure.”
“If I need to start putting guards around the HPGs on every world, I’d need an army larger than the SLDF! Could we not seek some kind of neutral arrangement? I could appeal to the Council in those terms, maybe relocate my headquarters to Luna. It serves no one to cut us off from each other.”
“My faith in their better nature is a little limited, Minister. If you want to establish your ministry as some kind of non-governmental organisation, I think you’ll find some substantial barriers at the current time. Of course, we may have no choice in the end but to work out some international protocols for this, but right at the moment…”
Blake ran his fingers back through his hair. “I suppose it was a slim chance,” he admitted. “Will your agency be offering HPG services to the periphery states as well? Now that you’ve joined them in rebellion?”
Hanse laughed and it took some effort for John to refrain. “That would require more trust than they’re willing to extend. We might extend some technical advice but I can’t see them letting me run their communications any more than I’d be willing to place my own at the Star League’s mercy.”
David Avellar was at least relatively cordial but he’d heard almost nothing from Centrella and Nicoletta Calderon’s messages all had a strong note of ‘how do you feel now the shoe’s on the other foot?’ to them. They could still do business, but it seemed that the Taurians were - unsurprisingly - still holding a grudge for the AFFS participation in both the recent fighting and in the Reunification War.
.o0O0o.
Army Group Fourteen Headquarters, New Rhodes III
Lockdale Province, Terran Hegemony
23 April 2777
The former headquarters building hadn’t been available so Tatjana Baptiste had arranged an alternative command centre, digging out a subterranean facility beneath one of the many military bases that the SLDF had used during the last ten years. It wasn’t quite a Castle Brian and Jack Lucas had asked her why she wasn’t using one of the restored facilities on New Florence.
The general had calmly reminded him that the AFFS no doubt had full schematics of the Castle Brians they’d helped to reduce a decade before. The continued vulnerability still gave Lucas qualms – they could change codes and other procedures but there was still so much that the Feddies knew about the SLDF that couldn’t be changed.
Could they even attack into the Hegemony? It seemed unthinkable… but no war could be won on the defensive.
Looking around the briefing room, Lucas thought it could almost be ten years ago. Once again, SLDF armies were preparing to launch from this end of the Hegemony into a long struggle. But now there were no green and gold AFFS dress uniforms among the officers… and they had less certainty of purpose.
Rosaleen McGuinness and Gerik Chudzik were sitting beside Lucas and Baptiste at the head of the briefing room. He’d scraped together twelve divisions to reinforce them – three understrength corps taken from General Huong’s Seventh Army and his own Third… although there wasn’t really a Third Army any more. Their divisions were patching holes in the rosters of the Seventh, Eighth and Twelfth Armies, the three commands spreading out to try to in turn cover the Hegemony in sufficient depth.
As much as it galled him, they were having to coordinate those efforts with the Hegemony Armed Forces. Even with the money and supplies that the House Lords were finally handing over, it was a struggle to replace the equipment and bases in the Federated Suns.
“At least John Davion’s allowed our wounded to leave,” McGuinness noted under her breath. “A man doesn’t need two good legs to sit behind a desk.”
“Something like thirty percent of them decided to stay in the Suns,” Baptiste murmured. “We can’t try to fight this like the last war.”
“But we still have to fight it,” he told them firmly and checked the clock. “Close the doors,” he ordered and waited as guards sealed the chamber and anti-surveillance systems were brought up. “General Baptiste, begin the briefing please.”
Baptiste rose to her feet and the holo-display sprang to life. “Operation REDEMPTION is the mission to force the Federated Suns back into the Star League,” she began. “The overall goal is a direct thrust towards New Avalon through the Kentares Defense Zone and the Marlette region of the Crucis March. This plan leaves open the possibility of flank attacks on our operations as we’ll be making a relatively narrow advance. In order to reduce the forces available for such counter-attacks, the Draconis Combine Mustered Soldiery and Capellan Confederation Armed Forces will be launching more limited invasions of the Draconis March and Capellan March respectively.”
The map zoomed in to show roughly a quarter of the Federated Suns with New Avalon near the bottom right corner of the display and New Rhodes III near the top right.
“Lord Kurita has committed twenty-one DCMS divisions, roughly equivalent to ten SLDF divisions, and the entire Pesht and Benjamin fleets – as a reminder, the Combine deploys its ships in five ship ‘fleets’. There are six such fleets participating, for a total of thirty warships. Each fleet is built around a Samarkand-class carrier – these are much smaller than the fleet carriers used by the Federated Suns – quite a number of the class were in limited service with the SLDF during our operations in the Periphery.”
Red lines moved out of the Combine’s worlds at the top of the display. “General Jinjiro Kurita intends to launch a three-pronged attack on the Galtor and Royal Defense Zones, converging towards the Draconis March capital on Robinson. His claim is that it should take three or four months to reach Robinson but the general at least has the restraint to admit that how well or poorly this will go depends heavily upon what reinforcements are sent into the region.”
“Moving to the Confederation, Chancellor Liao has appointed Marshal Derek Quinn to the command of one hundred and three regiments - including twenty-one BattleMech regiments - and twenty-four warships.” Green lines moved out of the Capellan worlds along the left of the display and penetrated the Federated Suns. “Given the relatively limited defensive depth of the Capellan March at this point, the Marshal has advised he intends to secure Kathil and Smolensk as staging areas for advancing into the Crucis March.”
Baptiste paused for a moment. “Given that this would place the Capellan offensive closest to New Avalon, Marshal Quinn has advised he expects to be facing considerable opposition and stresses that entering the Crucis March represents a best-case scenario. Given the importance of the General Motors factories on Kathil and the McKenna shipyards above the world I’m inclined to agree with this analysis.”
“Our own advance will be in four separate corps-strength spearheads, two from each Army. A squadron of warships is attached to each army to back up these advances and three additional squadrons are available, along with the other three Corps of the army group to provide support, secure worlds and to deal with flanking worlds if we designate them as necessary for reduction. This brings our commitment to three hundred and thirty line regiments and ninety-two warships. General McGuinness, if you would take over for the intelligence briefing?”
McGuinness rose and nodded to her superior. “We have fairly current information on the AFFS since they were sharing data until ten months ago. Given the differences in organisation, I’ll simply give you a comparison by overall strength first. As of last year, the AFFS could field one hundred and twenty-four regiments of BattleMechs and their fleet came to sixty-five warships, roughly one third of them capital ships. We believe they’re due to add two additional destroyers and between three and five ‘Mech regiments this year, although it’s not clear how far advanced those plans are.”
“For comparison, the combined forces committed to Operation Retaliation include one hundred and sixty-two BattleMech regiments and one hundred and forty-six warships. In addition, those forces are concentrated upon the offensives while the Federated Suns is the largest of all the Star League’s member-states and their armed forces are therefore the most dispersed. On this basis, it might be tempting to consider that we have an overwhelming advantage.”
The commander of Fourth Army paused. “Anyone thinking that is making a very serious error of judgement.” She looked around. “You’ve probably heard the stories about the fumbling their MechWarriors displayed in the Periphery. Many of those stories are true, but that was ten years ago and even then Feddie MechWarriors weren’t representative of the rest of the AFFS. The fact is, their infantry and artillery are just about as good as ours. Their armour is not far behind and they have a superb intelligence service. Given that they’re fighting for their homes, we can expect them to pull out all the stops.”
“If I may add?” Admiral Belleau stood up. “I’d also remind you that the Federated Suns Navy has shown an unflinching readiness to take losses if their mission demands it, both their warship crews and their pilots. They’re smaller and perhaps not quite so well equipped, but crew for crew I cannot say that they’re in any way inferior to the Star League Navy. Anyone who takes them lightly is very probably going takes some very heavy losses.”
“Thank you, admiral.” McGuinness nodded to the man. “So far as we’re aware there are four or five divisions of the AFFS in our immediate path through Kentares defence zone. Typically, their divisions are a little smaller than ours, with a single ‘Mech regiment, three infantry and three armoured regiments, plus artillery, aviation and so forth.”
“Given they know we’re coming, we have to assume that they’ll have been dug in and reinforced. Many of the bases in that region were fortified in anticipation that Amaris might launch a counterattack to punish the Suns for the support they gave us. In some cases we have the details of those defence, but not all of them. In addition, the Federated Suns Navy has kept most of its strength in that region for the last ten years, defending our supply lines.”
One of the divisional commanders raised a hand. “General, has this appreciation of the AFFS capabilities been passed on the DCMS and the CCAF?”
“We’ve shared the summaries,” Lucas advised. “Just as they’ve shared the summaries of their own information about AFFS movements.”
“Thank you, sir.”
“In summary,” McGuiness concluded: “The AFFS are badly outnumbered but they know our doctrine, our equipment and in many case they know our personnel. The last point may be as much of an advantage as it is a disadvantage for us.”
“Thank you, Rosaleen.” Baptiste turned to General Chudzik. “General, the rules of engagement?”
Lucas gave the commander of Sixth Army a searching look. The man had lost a quarter of his command to defections, which was alarming, but he’d also extricated the rest of his forces and it wasn’t as if anyone had seen John Davion’s defection coming.
“Ladies and gentlemen, I’m sure there are many of you that have doubts about firing on the soldiers who until recently were our most reliable allies. That’s understandable, and we have every reason to believe that there’s just as much uncertainty on the other side of this conflict. After years of working with us, many of the AFFS must have questions about John Davion’s decision to secede.”
“For that reason, we’ve decided that where possible we want to avoid putting the AFFS in the position that they have no alternative but to fire on us. This isn’t to say that you’re to operate on a basis of only firing if fired upon – that would be taking them entirely too lightly – but I must emphasise that we’re not fighting Amaris’ fanatics. The AFFS won’t be committing atrocities left and right, they’re honourable soldiers so surrenders are to be accepted and we’ve decided that if a unit retreats, either to some stronghold or out of system then they should be allowed to do so. We have more than sufficient forces to pin down garrisons that remain inside their defences and we want to maintain a focus on pushing for New Avalon, not chasing stray regiments all the way across the Federated Suns.”
“Let’s all remember that the Marlette region of the Crucis March alone covers as much space as half of the Terran Hegemony. Davion can afford to trade space for time. He cannot afford to trade public support though. Most of the populace are at best neutral to his defection, in our estimation. The involvement of the Capellans and Draconians is largely unavoidable and will tend to produce support for secession, so we must avoid adding to this. Most of the worlds we land on will have experience of the SLDF as allies and we have to tap into that sentiment as much as possible.”
“By showing restraint, we hope to persuade the people of the Federated Suns, and the High Council, that Lord Davion has made a mistake and deprive him of their support. Incidents that cause harm to civilians will ruin that impression and must be avoided. If we need to break off forces to pin down guerrilla resistance then we’ll be slowed to a crawl and the longer it takes us to reach New Avalon, the longer it will take for this to be over.”
Lucas nodded agreement. He wanted this over and that meant pushing aggressively. That didn’t mean slaughtering everyone – they’d have enough to deal with when the AFFS chose to fight back.
We’ve given John Davion too much warning, but there’s no way around that. Should we bypass everything and go for New Avalon? No, that would leave a single SLDF garrison surrounded on all sides by angry Feddie regiments and fleets. They needed to separate the sheep from the goats, persuade as many of the AFFS as possible to stand aside.
But as he looked at the officers listening to the next stage of the briefing, the breakdown of the exact worlds to be attacked in the first wave, he couldn’t help but feel apart from them. Alone.
Is this what it means to be Commanding General?
-
Bueno Tierra, Almach
Chesterton Commonality, Capellan Confederation
24 May 2777
Perhaps the Capellans had expected that the AFFS would simply stand still and let them fight the war on their terms. That was the only explanation Mark Rand-Davion could come up with for the shock and disarray that the First Avalon Hussars had found when their dropships came down upon the agricultural world.
It had been a risk striking without escorting warships but almost a third of the Capellan Navy was committed to fighting around Kathil, and they dared not weaken their defences facing the Free Worlds League. The risk had paid off and only a pair of armed dropships had tried to prevent the Hussars from reaching the surface. Since there were no less than three assault ships and the combined fighters of the Hussar’s divisional aerospace wings and the escorting Song-class dropship, that resistance hadn’t amounted to very much.
A lance of Clint BattleMechs opened fire on Mark’s lance as they pushed into the streets of the planetary capital. They were painted in the colours of Ariana Grenadiers, although that wasn’t necessarily confirmation of their identity. One of the few measures that the defenders had managed before the Hussars reached the city was to call up their militia and hastily repaint their ‘Mechs in Grenadier colours.
The real Grenadiers were only one step up from militia anyway – a mix of what the Capellans called Home Guard and various ‘free companies’ maintained by noble families of the Chesterton Commonality. Said companies were employed less for defence than they were to harass Chesterton and other Federated Suns worlds that the Capellans laid claim to.
Twisting his ‘Mech around, Mark managed to avoid the lines of tracer coming from the autocannon of the first Clint and only one of the lasers bit into the right shoulder of the Wolverine. Two more lasers carved into his chest though as a pair of the Grenadiers concentrated fire on him.
Turning had brought his own autocannon to bear though and Mark triggered it, following up with the medium lasers in the Wolverine’s left arm and the ball-turret in front of his cockpit. Only one of the lasers hit, blowing a chunk of armour away from the leg of the Clint that had fired first at him, but the autocannon bit deeply into the right chest, savaging the armour and severing structural members around the arm.
Aware that he’d been lucky to avoid a detonation in the ammunition stored in that side of his ‘Mech, the Clint pilot backed away, trying to screen the damaged side armour. In doing so he kept the autocannon built into his right arm out of play and could only fight back with the lasers in the left.
Ignoring it for the moment, Mark turned his attention to the second Clint to have fired on him. Two of his lance mates had singled it out and the lighter ‘Mech’s armour had been torn to shreds. Loose myomer cables flailed from one leg where they’d been severed, reducing the normally agile ‘Mech to a limb.
Cycling the autocannon, Mark fired a salvo of cluster rounds into the damaged Clint and triggered his short-range missiles for good measure. The explosions ripped through the chest as some of the shells and missiles found the ammunition bins and the head burst open as the Capellan MechWarrior ejected.
Ordinarily the Capellans might have had a chance – the standard Wolverine was larger and better armoured than a Clint, but slower and scarcely any better armed. The newer 6D models issued to the First Avalon Hussars had been substantially up gunned though and the remaining Clints, now cognizant of that fact, fired their jump jets, trying to retreat into the city.
“No pursuit,” Mark ordered. He fired with both lasers, scoring armour on his initial target but not bringing it down. His lance mates were more successful and took the leg off a laggard. “They might be trying to lure us into a trap.”
If those Clints were really part of the Ariana Grenadiers, then they should have a battalion of heavy ‘Mechs somewhere in the area – Thunderbolts and Warhammers. The Hussars had their own heavy ‘Mechs but Mark’s battalion didn’t include any – they were uncompromisingly mediums: Twenty-eight Wolverines, four Phoenix Hawks and eight Dervishes to provide fire support – although three Wolverines and a Dervish were currently out of action and being repaired.
“Colonel, we’ve encountered more ‘Mechs in Grenadier colours. Two Clints down, one might be salvageable.” Mark checked his display and confirmed the armour damage to his 'Mech wasn’t anything too serious.
“Roger that,” Colonel Stross confirmed. “My tanks are almost across the bridge now and then we can resume the advance. No one’s reported seeing Grenadier heavies yet.”
“Confirmed, sir. We’ll await your command.”
The First Avalon Hussars Division might be named for the ‘Mech regiment but in practise each battalion was seconded to one of the three brigades and then in turn to one of their demi-brigades. Gamma Brigade’s first demi-brigade, was commanded by Colonel Stross of the 29th Kestrel Heavy Tanks and took their name from the armoured regiment Stross commanded, which made up sixty percent of their fighting power.
“Move on,” ordered Stross after two more minutes.
“Confirmed.” Mark had been checking his map. “Echo One, there’s a shopping centre west of the junction. Anchor our flank from there. Watch out for tanks in the parking, it’s a good rally point. Foxtrot One, there’s a large office complex on the hill to your left, secure the east flank there and extend to the theatre. Delta company will take up the centre, more or less on the bus station.”
The company commanders confirmed the orders and Mark moved his lance up along with Delta. Two buses were still parked in the bus station, although there were no drivers or passengers.
“Heat signatures from the… what do you call it, the terminal?” reported Leftenant Douglas of the battalion’s recon lance. “Spread out in squad strength groups. Could be civilians, but it looks more like an infantry company.”
Mark looked along the open space facing the terminal. It could be a shooting gallery if the infantry had heavy weapons. “You’d better find out,” he warned.
“Hetzer ambush,” reported Foxtrot One tersely. “Platoon strength. No ‘Mechs lost, we got three of them.”
“What’s your damage?” asked Mark. Hetzers had heavy autocannon that could be dangerous at close quarters.
“Couple of my ‘Mechs will be covering the rear until we can get their armour patched up.”
He exhaled. That could have been much worse. “Okay, which -”
A spate of machinegun fire drew his attention back to the terminal where tracer fire was tracking after Leftenant Douglas’ Phoenix Hawk. The agile ‘Mech jumped up and over the arc of fire. “Definitely infantry, sir.”
An SRM corkscrewed after her ‘Mech and scored a hit. Two more missed. “You don’t say,” Mark observed drily. “Clear the building with your lance’s machineguns.”
It was a weakness of his battalion that they didn’t have a lot of anti-infantry weapons. It might be worth looking at seeing if a field refit would be possible for some of the Wolverines. “Sorry, Foxtrot One. Do you have a direction for the Hetzer that got away?”
“Due south,” the MechWarrior reported as the glass fronted terminal disintegrated. Eight heavy machine guns swept across it, shattering glass and punching holes in the metal and plastic seating. More machinegun fire and SRMs replied, Douglas’ lance smashing up cover with their medium lasers and then raking the infantry revealed with the machine guns.
The first of Stross’ Manticore tanks were entering the bus station as the firing died down. “What the hell, Rand-Davion?” asked the colonel. “Did the building look at you the wrong way?”
“Infantry company lying in ambush, sir. Still no sign of the heavies.”
“We’ve unconfirmed reports they may have moved south.” Stross stuck his head out of the turret of his tank, one hand pressed against the side of his helmet. “Okay, good news. The mayor’s just contacted my staff. He wants to surrender the city.”
“I’ll try not to break any more of it, then.”
“That would be appreciated.”
Mark checked his map of the region. “Could be the Grenadiers are going to try to fort up at Footfall,” he theorised. “It’s where the original colonists landed and it still has fortified walls going back to the twenty-third century.”
“Was that in the briefing?”
“No sir, but the map marks them out for tourists.”
Stross laughed and Mark joined him. If Bueno Tierra had ever had walls they’d long since been cleared away. The older, smaller city, might be better prepared for the war that had come to Almach.
.o0O0o.
FSS Tancredi, Royal
Draconis March, Federated Suns
4 June 2777
Royal was a world of special significance to the AFFS, although not in a good way. It was where Joseph Davion had died in 2729. Now the DCMS had returned to the pkanet and intelligence reports indicated that no less than three of House Kurita's divisions were engaged in hunting down the Seventh Robinson Chevaliers or whatever was left of the command.
Kenneth Jones had hoped for some familiarity with returning to his former command but the flag deck wasn’t what he remembered the ship for. Still, Mary Kaga was in command of the ship now which counted for something and the destroyers supporting the carrier were still FSS Arthur Davion and FSS Katherine Davion.
“Convoy in sight,” Major Mason reported from the sensor deck. “Electronic signatures confirm five of the new Fang-class transports, ten Vultures and an escort of two corvettes of the Vigilant-class.”
“That’s almost suspiciously in line with our intelligence,” Jones noted as he watched the display update to mark the location of the Draconian ships. There were six dropships behind his own line. “I’d have expected more of an escort – a dropship with additional fighters, perhaps.”
Mason nodded but his face expressed disagreement. “The only reason we’re at a comparable velocity is that we’re on a similar transit profile, admiral. They might have left a carrier dropship with their jumpships and expect to have support from squadrons on Royal as they come in.” At the high speeds that ships reached after days of acceleration between jump points and planets, interceptions mid-voyage were relatively rare. The DCA convoy had just turned over to begin decelerating while Jones’ ships would need to do so in the next few hours.
“It’s possible, I suppose.” Jones drummed his fingers on the arm of his seat. As far as it was known, the Draconis Combine Admiralty only had two Vigilants, former Hegemony ships purchased by the Combine long before the time of the Star League. If this was indeed the Iwate and the Wakayama then this might be the elite First Proserpina Hussars, one of the DCMS’ oldest and most storied units. Operating as a reaction force, the Hussars had been assigned the two corvettes as a permanent escort years ago and there was no report of that changing. “If this is a trap then the bait’s still too good to ignore.”
His division’s orders were only to get the six Gazelle dropships to Royal and cover them while they contacted the Chevaliers to land supplies and extract wounded soldiers. The last-minute warning that the Combine was moving in reinforcements had raised this possibility though.
“Captain Kaga.”
“Sir.” The brunette on the screen turned to directly face the camera pointed at her position in the combat information centre.
“If the Combine ships haven’t seen us now, they will soon. Launch your fighters to take out the corvettes. It doesn’t look as if they have a large fighter force, but they could be hiding something.”
“Understood sir. Are we authorised to engage transports?”
“Assume we’ll need a second strike for that,” Jones instructed her. “We’ll play this cautiously.”
“Sir,” Kaga said again and turned away to instruct her airboss.
Mason cleared his throat. “Either of our destroyers could take out the corvettes, sir.”
“Yes, but they’d take some damage and the corvettes could get lucky. It’s almost certain we’ll lose some fighters to this, but the harsh truth is, we can afford that more than we can afford putting a destroyer in dock for months of repairs.” The numbers facing the Federated Suns right now were daunting and while this encounter offered the chance to thin that edge a little, trading one ship for one ship would be a victory of attrition for the Combine.
The eight catapults in the Tancredi’s nose slammed fighters out into space in rapid succession, deck crews locking fresh fighters into the launch cradle each time until two full wings were in space. Red wing and green wing formed up and began to accelerate towards the enemy convoy, leaving the division under the protection of copper wing’s Tomahawk II fighters.
In a pinch, the larger Tomahawks could certainly carry out an anti-shipping strike. But the Centurion II fighters of the other two wings had a better power to weight ratio and despite the additional mass of a missile, they could still out-manoeuvre most other aerospace fighters.
The forty fighters seemed to creep across the battle space. Although the display seemed to indicate that very little motion was taking place, all the vessels were hurtling through space at a pace of thousands of kilometres every second. The Kurita dropships turned and fired their drives frantically as they tried to widen the gap between them and Jones force.
For a moment the squat, cylindrical Vultures reminded Jones of the M-3 drones he’d encountered in Al Na’ir. He shook the impression off. These were smaller, slower ships and lacked the armament of the drones. And even with their drives flat out, they were accelerating at only 30 mps-squared, a pace that his ships could easily maintain. The newer but larger Fang-class transports couldn’t even manage that and the two corvettes of the escort turned desperately to try to keep the incoming fighters away from their charges.
Massive autocannon clawed at the formations of Centurions as the fighters broke into an elaborate weaving pattern intended to confuse the gunners. For all their age, the relatively small naval guns would obliterate a fighter as small as a Centurion if they scored a hit. Their mounts weren’t intended to engage such mobile targets though and the anti-fighter turrets of the corvettes wouldn’t be able to engage the fighters until they were already in launch range for their missiles.
The real threats were blasting out of the sides of the two corvettes. White Shark missiles were actually larger than the Centurions and intended for anti-shipping strikes but before their drives burned out they were agile enough to catch a fighter and their payload could be deadly. And besides them, Combine fighters scrambled out of their motherships to engage.
One of red wing aerospace fighters flared orange with damage indicators from a missile. Blue wing’s commander was suddenly alone as his wingman’s fighter was torn apart by a pair of strikes. Combine fighters darted to engage – not a design that the warbooks recognised – first they claimed Vulcans only to strike that identification down a moment later – a similar delta-wing configuration and size but something else.
“Sir, these must be the new SL-15s,” Mason reported.
“They’re too little and too late,” Jones replied. Fighters had been damaged in a brief pass but there were no more than twelve of the enemy fighters and before the heavy aerospace fighters could reacquire and engage again, each of the two wings had reached their target.
The identifications firmed up a second before missiles from red wing struck their target, and thus Jones knew that it was DCS Wakayama that disintegrated. It would be a later debriefing that uncovered that the hanger bays of the corvette had still been open to space, a superbly aimed missile detonating inside the flight deck, blasting the Wakayama into two halves that the later missiles had smashed apart.
Only a few seconds later blue wing had their chance and DCS Iwate tumbled out of the flare of multiple detonations. It was technically still an intact hull but the entire left side was twisted wreckage and all three engines had been torn apart. Trailing fragments of armour and systems, along with a halo of escaping atmosphere and probably the remains of its engine room crew, the Vigilant-class had seen its last battle. Jones judged that it would most likely streak past Royal and out of the system unless managed to get a tug to reclaim the wreck.
The Centurions, no longer hampered by their pay loads or mission, spun away from the convoy, pilots enduring a brutal nine gravities of acceleration that left the Combine fighters struggling behind them.
“Admiral Jones, it seems there are only the twelve fighters remaining as escorts,” concluded Kaga. “I request permission to despatch gold wing to eliminate them while we re-arm for a fighter strike on the dropships.”
“Surely we should offer them a surrender?” asked Mason.
“We have no capacity to take prisoners, Major,” Jones reminded him. “And if they take to lifeboats they’ll just die slowly out here. Do you want us to escort them to Royal – their intended destination?”
“The equipment would be a boon for the Seventh Chevaliers.”
The admiral shrugged slightly. “Yes, but what could they do with over two thousand prisoners – all of them trained soldiers? Besides, their Dictum Honorium states that soldiers who surrender either lack honour or have a code unsuited to warfare. While it’s not officially acknowledged, intelligence reports that versions of the book shared with outsiders omit sections saying that the only justifiable way for Kurita’s soldiers to surrender is if they do so as a deception to cause additional damage to the enemy.”
“You can’t be serious! Prisoner of war conventions…”
“No formal conventions exist, Major. The last were abolished two hundred years ago in the Reunification War, because we were fighting states that weren’t signatory to them. Everything since then has been at the discretion of the states involved.” He glanced at the CIC relay. “Captain, if they turn to ram I assume that we’re ready to break off.”
The brunette nodded. “Aye sir. They can no more close in on us than we can on them.”
“Very good. I authorise unleashing gold wing’s Tomahawks to get rid of those fighters – make sure they gather as much intel as they can so MilInt’s technical team can work up an assessment. You may prepare for nuclear strikes on the Vultures but we’ll let our PPC turrets engage the Fang-class ships at long range. There’s no point wasting expensive munitions.”
Mason looked appalled. “Sir, how can you be so coldblooded? This is shooting people who can’t harm us.”
“War is murder, Major. A situation like this where we can cause great injury to our enemies at little cost to ourselves – one pilot so far – is the ideal we should aim for. Only a fool seeks out to be injured when they need not be. If I spared these people then every one of our soldiers they killed in the future would be on my conscience.”
He reached down to his controls. “Flag comms, prepare to transmit to the enemy on standard hailing frequencies.”
“Yes sir, what do you wish to transmit?”
“I’m recording now.” Jones looked into the pick-up and activated it. “I am Vice Admiral Kenneth Jones of the Federated Suns. My forces have attained advantage over yours. I am aware your code disdains surrender and I shall not insult you by offering the opportunity. You have, by my estimation, something over five minutes to prepare yourselves as you see fit for death. I am told that poetry is your custom. My salutations to a valiant foe.”
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That man has style!
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style indeed :) God, I just feel that the feddies are going to be beating the dracs and cappies with there own corpses and then when tthe SLDF shows up just fade away and avoid any major fights. Will be funny when the Lords of the SL realize this and start demanding horrible things from the SLDF. I am sure more SLDF defections to kerensky the hogemony and john are in the futere. I will not be surprised if john has spies at this point all over the SLDF and even high ranked ones to. He was a fairly popular SLDF general after all. :)
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You should open a thread for the death poems of the Kuritans... ^-^
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"Ground troops in transport
always at mercy of WarShips
kiss your ass goodbye."
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Lotus blossoms float
Drifting always in the void
Lonely is the void
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Strutting rooster cry
Chicks walk forwards for feeding
Eggs broken open
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SLDF Headquarters, New Earth
Alliance Core, Terran Hegemony
7 July 2777
Jack Lucas wasn’t working into the small hours just because his inbox seemed to be ever-increasing or because he was a workaholic – although that might contribute to the fact that he seemed to have no life outside his office and the headquarters chapel. Getting enough sleep was a requirement for any command officer, if one often neglected and convincing junior officers usually involved setting a good example.
While he’d normally be making a start on six or seven hours of nature’s sweet restorer, tonight he was expecting a call so he’d taken a nap and a shower earlier and was simply killing time getting started on the overnight communications traffic. He was reviewing a request for a blood drive to replenish medical stocks – apparently during the pull-out from the Federated Suns, Sixth Army hadn’t prioritised medical blood banks and the aggregate figures for what had been left behind would have fed an army of vampires.
The appearance of Robert Steiner didn’t dispel Lucas’ ghoulish train of thought. The Archon of the Lyran Commonwealth looked cadaverous, transmitting from the throne rather than from an office as usual. “My apologies for the hour,” the hologram offered in greeting. “My schedule is… difficult at the moment.”
“One late night won’t kill me, Archon. Are you well?”
“I’m seventy-six and in politics, a field that seems to age everyone except Kuritas.” Robert coughed and then gestured dismissively. “Well enough for those circumstances, I suppose.”
“How can I be of service, Lord Steiner?”
“I regret I must raise the matter of the Rim Worlds Protectorate. There have been… incidents.”
“Raiding. And a pair of your corvettes encroached the border.” And had been destroyed over Kowloon by a SLDF cruiser division that had been… conveniently placed.
Robert nodded. “I don’t dispute that they had no business being there. Whether it was a navigational error or their commanders exceeded their instructions will be hard to tell, since there seem to have been no officers among the survivors. My point is that tensions are so high that your ships felt they should open fire directly.”
“War is not a sporting event. When presumed pirates – Makos were used by the Rim Worlds under Amaris and none should have been in that area – arrive, giving them the chance to fight back is tactically unwise.”
“Yes, yes. However, provoking a war with Lord Kerensky is not my intent. He has enough problems policing his own systems and loyal Star League members should not fight.”
Lucas didn’t meet the Archon’s eyes for a moment after that statement, until he was sure he wouldn’t betray the contempt he felt. “Would you like me to send in peacekeepers?”
“That’s exactly what I want,” Steiner said to his surprise. “The Lyran Commonwealth Armed Forces in the area can secure against raids by Kerensky’s dissidents, but as it’s causing too much friction I’d like to pull them back from the border and replace them with SLDF divisions.”
“Hmm.” Lucas had checked the latest information from the Commonwealth in preparation. “You have twelve brigades stationed along the border. Given the rather larger unit sizes you’ve adopted, replacing them with similarly sized units would rather stretch my deployments in the Commonwealth.” The LCAF ‘square’ formations left their brigades as similar in size to an SLDF division.
The Archon rubbed his face. “The troop strengths are… rather less than they appear on paper. Detachments are guarding local nobility…”
Noble’s personal retinues they fund by notionally listing them as part of the LCAF, Lucas translated.
“…and some units would be filled out by reservists, in the event of war.”
And are probably drawing full pay and supply allocations in peacetime. The general had heard of graft like this but it usually meant some dramatic court martials, not business as usual. The Lyrans claimed to be fielding twelve of their ludicrously over-sized divisions – small Corps by SLDF standards. If they were similarly hollow along the other frontiers then it was no wonder that Steiner wanted to consolidate his forces.
“I can probably arrange for Thirteenth army to station two of their Corps along the border,” he told the Archon cautiously. “But depending on shipping it would take a while – and of course, it would be expensive.” And he’d assign the two understrength Corps – six divisions between them but it would be enough to keep the peace as long as Kerensky reciprocated, which he surely would.
“It always seems to come back to that, doesn’t it? I have to wonder how you keep funding the Nagelring and Sanglamore.”
“Generally, at the expense of not funding other activities,” Lucas replied drily. “I’d re-open academies here in the Hegemony if I could afford to, but until I can, that leaves them as our only fully-fledged military academies. With so many soldiers leaving the ranks, anything that threatened our ability to train replacements would have to be dealt with sharply.”
“Funding may be available once the fighting in the Federated Suns is over. Your soldiers are doing well,” Steiner offered in obvious flattery.
“Perhaps too well.” He regretted the words as soon as he said then.
The Archon leant forwards, eyes sharp like a bird’s. “Why so? I understood them to have reached Marlette –a third of the way to New Avalon – well ahead of schedule. Unless resistance stiffens, you could reach Davion’s home by Christmas.”
“Why hasn’t resistance stiffened though? The AFFS is putting up a ferocious fight in the Draconis March, sufficient that Jinjiro Kurita is calling in reinforcements just to maintain his advance. And against the Capellans they’re even counter-attacking into the Confederation – Liao has had to abort the attack on Smolensk to respond and they’re bogged down on Kathil.”
“I’m aware of their difficulties. But the SLDF has been dealing with their own opposition more effectively?”
“That’s what reports suggest. But the troops on Almach, Mira and Mesartim are right on our flank. Why didn’t Davion throw them at Edwards or Logandale instead? They could have bogged down Fourth Army’s advance for weeks or even months if they fought the way they have on other fronts.”
He saw Steiner’s eyes narrow. “Davion does typically have a plan.”
“Yes. I can’t help but be reminded that in the Hegemony he wanted to draw Amaris out. It didn’t work in Lockdale, but when counter-attacks were launched against Kerensky’s Army Group Thirteen they were smashed easily over Chara. I don’t think Amaris would have done better against Army Group Eleven.”
“And you think that you’ve been drawn out as well?” The frail-seeming Archon cupped his chin. “I’m not a military man, but are you garrisoning worlds behind you?”
Lucas nodded. “Brigade-strength combat groups have been left in place. It’s pinning down around a Corps – not enough to slow the advance. Even at the current rate, Baptiste will reach New Avalon with around twenty divisions.”
“Can he defeat such a force?”
“Perhaps if he somehow gathered up the AFFS’ full strength from every corner of his realm, but the cost of such a victory would be pyrrhic.”
“And however severe their reverses, neither Kurita nor Liao are close to abandoning their operations.” Steiner looked as if he’d bitten something sour. “That leaves non-military options… may I voice the unwelcome notion of - ?”
“Subversion?” Lucas asked.
He got a nod in return.
“The Council did warn me they were concerned about Baptiste’s loyalty. Unfortunately, there’s no one else with her experience. I hope that I’m jumping at shadows but I’ve had General Apfelbucher send teams to check the worlds that have been taken so far. Even if Baptiste is loyal, it’s possible the AFFS has troops hidden to her rear, waiting to fall on her supply lines.”
“And if… merely as a contingency, but if she is not loyal?”
“She’s surrounded by soldiers of the SLDF. If they remain loyal then the damage she can is limited. But,” he continued reluctantly, “If they’re swayed too then we have a huge problem.”
“Baptiste is able, but I would not say she has the charisma to convince entire armies to turn on the Star League,” conceded the Archon. “Allow me to ease your dilemma a little. If you’re agreeable to deploying on the borders I will find the money and supplies to provide fully for all of the Thirteenth Army’s needs.”
Lucas’s eyes widened. That would ease the SLDF’s logistics considerably, but… “You’d be their paymaster.”
“Alas, I am not the general that Davion is or that Marik thinks that he is. What I can offer is material.”
The commanding general considered Thirteenth Army for a moment. General Surban still had two of his original Corps, supplemented with troops that had originally been posted in the Draconis Combine and Magistracy of Canopus. He had no cause to doubt their loyalty, but he’d thought the same of Baptiste, Chudzik and McGuinness.
“I accept,” he said at last, frustrated that he could see no better way through his responsibilities.
.o0O0o.
Tikograd, Tikonov
Tikonov Commonality, Capellan Confederation
9 August 2777
The Prefect of Tikonov gnawed on the tip of his thumb as he studied the map of Tikonov. “Damn Lucas,” he muttered, “Damn my uncle.”
“Sir?” his aide asked politely.
“Nothing.” Sandol Quinn waved the younger man off and took a deep breath. On the map, Home Guard elements still shone defiantly green across Ufa and Krasnodar. So far, the invaders hadn’t landed troops on those continents, but the Home Guards and militia stationed there lacked the transports to reinforce the areas that did show the ochre stain of Federated Suns landings.
A circle of that despicable colour marked Tikograd’s surroundings. The industrial and political centre of both the planet Tikonov and the entire commonality that Quinn represented on the Prefectorate, the city itself held out but he was besieged, with only the First Tikonov Lancers’ heavy ‘Mechs and the fixed defences to stiffen the predominantly infantry garrison.
There should have been tank regiments as well but they’d deployed on the open eastern plains that stretched from Tikograd to the coast and as far north as the ports of Rostov and Arkhangelsk. The two AFFS divisions landing had smashed them apart with apparent ease and then, leaving a division to pin Quinn in place, the other had swept through mountain passes into western Kazan and smashed the defending regiments there.
Karaganda had presented some hope of constraining the advance – the other Capellan ‘Mech regiment on Quinn’s homeworld was stationed on the isthmus linking Kazan to its neighbouring continent of Pskov. The Marshals of Tikonov were a crack regiment, one of the Capellan Hussars and equipped with the heaviest ‘Mechs available to the Capellan Confederation.
Instead the Feddies had just left a pinning force north of the city and used their dropships to cross the sea and launch an attack on Pskov’s equatorial heartlands. That was when Quinn had sent messages to anyone he could think of, begging for aid.
General Lucas and his lapdog Calliope had protested inability to support him; the nearest forces, the 184th Mechanized Infantry Division were apparently under attack on New Hessen by Federated Suns’ mercenaries. He shouldn’t have expected much from Major General Calliope – the woman was from the Free Worlds League after all – but Lucas had apparently forgotten he was answerable to Chancellor Liao.
And then his own uncle, Marshal commanding the largest concentration of Capellan troops in the region, had advised that he couldn’t withdraw troops from the attack on Kathil. That was what came of this notion of establishing senior military officers, Quinn thought bitterly. Severed from his status as a noble of Tikonov, his uncle Derek had completely abandoned the bonds of loyalty and was wholly intent on winning glory by taking the prize before him. Apparently, he no longer cared that the fall of Tikonov would strip the Confederation of a world far more valuable than Kathil ever could be.
Only the Chancellor had expressed willingness to send support but it seemed that even she lacked the political capital to force Marshal Quinn to send help. Instead she’d pulled the Fourteenth Liao Lancers from her own ancestral homeworld, three jumps away.
“Sir?”
Quinn wheeled around to look at his aide. “What?”
“Jump signatures at the proximity point.”
“Is it the relief?” the Prefect exclaimed, rushing across the command centre.
The technician shrugged helplessly. “Too early to tell, sir. There are multiple flares so it could be reinforcements for either side.”
The three men craned over the display, knowing that far out in space the tremendous energies of K-F drives were about to hurl jumpships across the stars and into their own skies.
The first ship crashed out of its hyperspace transit and the technician adjusted his controls. “Warship, sir. And another. They’re in the right tonnage range for Davion ships…”
Quinn felt his fingers digging into the thin unholstering of the technician’s chair.
“...no, we’re getting friendly IFF. CCN destroyers Maelstrom and Firestorm.”
With a gasp of relief, Quinn swatted at the man playfully. “Dammit, man, don’t worry me like that.”
“Sorry, sir. Our new Essex-class ships are only a little smaller than the Davions.”
More flares resolved and three more conventional jumpships resolved on the display. “Transports,” the aide exclaimed. “The Lancers… but there are enough dropships there for more than one regiment.”
“Yes sir.” The technician looked up. “Three Invader-class jumpships with nine military transports collared. Three Dictators for the Fourteenth Lancers, six Triumphs for a short infantry regiment and three short tank regiments. They must be crammed in like sardines.”
Quinn clenched his fists. “Good work. Good work.” Those troops would let him break the siege around Tikograd. He rushed back to his map. Yes, that was the ticket – take out the AFFS here, then relieve the Marshals at Karaganda and the invaders would be confined to Pskov.
“Sir, the ships are asking for aerospace escort as they land troops.”
“By all means,” the prefect said ebulliently. “Give them whatever they want.” The Feddies didn’t have any warships in system – the escorts for the landing force had departed shortly after they delivered the invasion force. But if the navy was worried, then by all means let them have what they wanted.
He went to the phone and called the space port, ordering them to make sure they were ready for nine dropships full of Capellan soldiers. With that done it occurred to him that he should make sure there would be barracks and placed another call to the harried-sounding quartermaster to make sure of that.
It took almost an hour for him to ensure everything was ready. Images of the proud tanks and ‘Mechs soon to be under his command danced through his brain.
A rising wail cut through Quinn’s imagining. “An air raid?” He spun around. “Where are our fighters?”
“On their way to the convoy,” his aide answered.
“Not the jets,” he retorted. “Where are they?”
The other man shook his head. “Sir, the atmospheric fighters were cut apart three weeks ago, contesting the Davion dropships between Kazan and Pskov. What’s left were withdrawn to Penza to reconstitute.”
Penza, half a world away! Damn!
The room seemed to shake, flinging both Quinn and his aide to the floor. “What the hell?” the officer exclaimed as he scrambled upright.
“We’ve been bombed?” the prefect snarled. He rolled smoothly to his feet, years of martial arts training paying off at last. Rushing to the door he exited his command centre and ran up the stairs to the next level, the headquarters of the First Tikonov Lancers. Taking the stairs three at a time, he reached the entrance only in time to see Colonel Schonkopf exiting in a hurry. The two men barely avoided a collision.
“Colonel, what are you doing?” he exclaimed as the officer continued to unbutton his uniform tunic.
“I need to get to my ‘Mech,” Schonkopf exclaimed, brushing past him.
Quinn chased after him. “The situation, man!”
“The bloody Feddies dropped a fusion bomb on the northern wall! There’s a breach fifty metres wide.”
The prefect paled, and not just because Schonkopf was taking the opportunity as he waited for an elevator to start peeling off his pants. The northern district of Tikograd was the administrative sector of the city, in other words – this very building was under threat.
The door opened and Schonkopf, now wearing only his MechWarrior shorts and army boots, ran inside. “Are you coming?”
Quinn followed him and started unbuttoning his own tunic. His own ‘Mech was in the hangers and it sounded as if every last one would be needed. “Can we stop them short of the inner wall?” he asked.
The colonel shrugged fatalistically. “We must, so we will,” he replied. “The Fifth Crucis Dragoons have ‘Mechs as heavy as ours though, so many of us will be in the Thousand Hells tonight.”
Sandol Quinn felt like crying. Even if the battle were to be won, now he’d need the relief force just to hold Tikograd, not to break the siege and start repelling the invaders.
.o0O0o.
DCS Atago, Robinson
Draconis March, Federated Suns
11 August 2777
At the dawn of the twenty-fourth century, the then-Admiral James McKenna had constructed a class of warships out of all proportions to any previous starships, revolutionised naval warfare. With a touch of historical awareness, he called these ships Dreadnoughts. Recognising the threat that this posed, the equally legendary Shiro Kurita had ordered that his engineers devise warships of equal power.
Lacking the resources of the Terran Hegemony, it had taken decades for New Samarkand’s shipyards to design and construct the requested vessels and it was Shiro’s son Tenno who received three battleships, one for each District of the fledgling Draconis Combine. Similarly aware of history, the second Coordinator had named the ships the Atago-class and the first of the class had become his flagship, and by tradition that of other Kuritas down the ages.
The other two ships had fallen in battle but Atago herself had survived to be mothballed after the Reunification War and now a new Kurita rode her into battle.
Jinjiro Kurita’s command came at Robinson out of the sun – they’d exploited the proximity point that lay between the planet and its star, slipping through in tight intervals. Fifteen warships and forty jumpships, carrying between them the dropships for no less than ten divisions.
“It as if they do not know we are here,” murmured Tai-sho Theodore Kunieda from beside Jinjiro. The naval officer was in theory the Kurita’s equal in rank and by far his senior. He had obediently slipped into a subordinate position however, serving as Jinjiro’s naval commander, for that was the Dragon’s will.
“Who would believe that so large a force could use such a difficult jump point?” Jinjiro replied coolly, not taking his eyes off the planet before him. Robinson’s one moon, Bethel, was just slipping out from behind it. There was a proximity point between world and moon but intelligence reported that it was heavily mined, the Sandovals aware of the hazard it posed. Somewhere on the far side of Bethel lay the shipyards that were the capstone of Robinson’s industrial might. “Your crews have not merely performed superbly, they have met my expectations.”
“It is our honour to serve.” Kunieda bowed. “I regret that only fifteen warships are available for this mission – too many are scattered searching for the pirate Jones and his ilk.”
“Fifteen will suffice, as you say, the Suns’ ships are scattered in order to raid our supply lines. By the time they can assemble a fleet to contest you, the capital of the Draconis March will be mine.”
Jinjiro had picked the divisions with care. All had been blooded in the campaign so far and yet none had taken serious losses. The Fifth Sword of Light and Third Dieron Regulars were the victors of Marduk; the Fourteenth Galedon Regulars had defeated the Fourth Robinson Chevaliers on Royal, with no blame resting on them for the escape of the survivors to wage a bandit campaign against the garrison. The Fourth Proserpina Hussars were eager to avenge their brother regiment’s massacre over Royal and had taken a down-payment on that vengeance when they smashed the Thirteenth Robinson Chevaliers on Dobson. Even the young MechWarriors of the Third Sun Zhang Cadre had covered themselves with glory, breaking the ducal guard on New Ivaarsen. And they were only half of the invasion force.
“Ready a shuttle,” he ordered as Robinson grew before them. Radio interception had not yet decoded the enemy communications traffic but the upswing in activity confirmed that they had been detected and soon the planet’s aero wings would scramble. It would be a day before the landings but better to be aboard the dropship carrying his ‘Mech now rather than risk a stray fighter getting past his own fighter screen and catching him in the shuttle.
An officer scrambled to comply but Kunieda raised his hand. “Belay that.”
Jinjiro glared at the older man, silently demanding an explanation.
“Incoming fighters,” the admiral observed, pointing at the display. “We will need to use the flight decks for launching our own fighters.”
The coordinator’s son looked at the holo-display and saw a sprinkling of icons updating. Much was uncertain but they were unquestionably fighters and surging towards the fleet with speed. “Hmm. Yes.” He waved off the officer. “It seems they have good timing. Deploy our fighters.”
He had decided to emulate the tactics of the Federated Suns in his fleet composition. While Atago herself carried only four squadrons of aerospace fighters, each of the four Samarkand carriers carried twelve squadrons and two more for each of the ten Narukami-class destroyers in the screen. And then he had loaded the collars of the warships with Leopard-class dropships loaded with an additional squadron each – almost thirteen hundred aerospace fighters, backed up by the forty-two dropships and fifteen warships.
There was much to admire in Admiral Jones, Jinjiro thought, although he had not shared those thoughts with Kunieda. The Davion naval commander would have made a fine samurai, striking with resolution and recognising the honour of his foes. In some ways it was unfortunate that he had been born in the Suns and not the Combine, yet without an adversary of such skill, how could one count a victory worth the winning?
His brow furrowed as numbers and types firmed up and enemy formations spread out to engage from multiple directions. The main force of fighters was coming directly from Robinson but four smaller detachments, comprising perhaps half the Davion fighters, were approaching at wide angles. Not only would this force him to spread his defences but… “How reliable are these numbers?”
Kunieda nodded grimly. “Unless they’re using drones transmitting decoy signals, they truly have fifteen hundred fighters here. Could they have known we were coming?”
“All things are possible. Yet they lack dropship support or warships of their own.”
“Our fighters have all launched, Tai-sho. Your shuttle can now be launched if you wish.”
“No, I shall observe the battle from here,” Jinjiro decided. “The Atago carried many of my ancestors into battle, I can think of no better place to be.”
“We are honoured, Lord Kurita.” The captain bowed as far as his seat allowed him. “If I may though, it would be best to take a seat.”
“Do you expect them to breech our screen?” he asked incredulously.
“As you said, lord, all things are possible. The Atago may have to manoeuvre to bring our guns to bear.”
Jinjiro clenched his fist but fought the anger down. No, this was good advice, he thought. Advice my father would heed. “Well said, captain.” He went to one of the unoccupied seats on the bridge and locked himself into the shockframe.
Star Daggers and Sabres closed in on the enemy formations first. Heavier fighters – Samurai, Lightnings and Hellcats, backed by a handful of squadrons with the new Slayers – formed a second wall. Listening to the flow of instructions to and from the air direction officers, Jinjiro gathered that the light squadrons would slash through the enemy formations, then reverse course and engage them from the rear as the heavy fighters closed in.
His own helplessness fuelled his anger. On the ground he could at least engage the enemy personally, even if events beyond his own reach had to be deferred to junior officers. Here, even that was denied to him.
On the display the flashes of orange could almost be taken for explosions but the holograph wasn’t so detailed. No, they marked fighters damaged or destroyed and such data was only reliably available for his own fighters. Draconian scarlet seemed to shift towards Davion yellow as the markers multiplied.
The Combine’s fighters broke past at last, officer’s voices babbling data, trying to coordinate the full extent of the space battle – no, to coordinate five separate engagements. “Kunieda.” Jinjiro kept his voice level. “Our air directors should focus upon controlling the central thrust, defer each of the flank attacks to directors aboard the carriers.”
“Hai!” the admiral responded and turned to the air directors to arrange that.
They had a brief window before the heavy fighters engaged, Jinjiro estimated. Dangerous to change command arrangements in mid-battle but controlling everything from here on the Atago was overwhelming the air direction team.
I may not know aerospace fighters, he thought, but I know men. Satisfied he had done something of use at least he fell back upon the hardest lesson his father had taught him of command. Sitting back, he forced himself to relax.
The fighters met again and another explosion of orange spread across the display. As the fighters clashed, the Davion strikes ceased to close in and began to engage in a dog-fight. Damaged fighters limped away as the clash sprawled across millions of cubic kilometres and then, with such suddenness it seemed planned, the Federated Suns force broke away, formations re-emerging.
“Lord, they have been repelled.”
Jinjiro considered the words. “But not broken.”
“No.” Kunieda shook his head. “We could pursue but our squadrons are in disarray and have depleted their ammunition and fuel. We would lose fighters that otherwise might be repaired and made ready once more.”
“I see. Recall them then, save for a rotation of squadrons to provide a screening force. No doubt they will return.”
On this display, force estimates clarified and Jinjiro noted the losses. Perhaps two hundred fighters lost of his forces, the same for the Suns.
.o0O0o.
Six hours later the Federated Suns fighters returned, twelve and a half hundred fighters. With a hundred of his own fighters still being repaired on their ships, the Combine’s fighters could launch only a thousand and Jinjiro saw fatigue was weighing the pilots down.
“We think Robinson must have been acting as a hub for replacement fighters and crews,” the ISF liaison offered in apologetic explanation. “Thus, they have the equivalent of several carrier wings here.”
“They could crew eight carriers with that many fighters. At least they should be weary when they can hardly have been out of their cockpits before launching again. Our pilots have had a little time to rest”
The losses were higher this time. Federated Suns fighters had been flying with patched armour and sometimes without their full armament. It cost two hundred and fifty of them their lives… but the same was true of the Combine’s fighters and the Federated Suns pilots fought with astounding vigor for men and women on their second sortie of the day. A third of the Draconian fighters didn’t return.
.o0O0o.
Five more hours and they were back.
“Are the pilots machines?” Jinjiro asked quietly. Were these drones like those of the Terran SDS? Was that how they fought like men and women that had slept and eaten since their last sortie?
The Leopard dropships had run through half their onboard fuel and ammunition. If casualties hadn’t been so heavy it would have been far worse.
This time the battle reached those dropships and while eight hundred DCA fighters held up their own number and more, Centurion fighters began to trickle past. Their puny lasers would have barely scratched one of the Leopards and not even that against a Narukami, so they didn’t even bother to try engaging at close quarters. Instead nuclear missiles slashed out, the fighters engaging as flight-pairs or entire squadrons.
Sometimes – not always, but sometimes – a dropship would survive the assault if only two fighters were engaging it. But even a destroyer could survive a nuclear missile penetrating its vitals. The little fighters paid a cost for the kills but two of the Narukami and twenty-seven Leopards were lost, which must be well worth the price to their commanders.
“We can’t continue this.” The Federated Suns’ Stukas, Hammerheads and Vulcans were reaping a horrible toll on lighter fighters, counting on their comrades’ Tomahawks and Centurions to keep the Combine’s fighters from getting behind them. Jinjiro shook his head. “We have to take out their bases.”
“Sir, what with?”
“The remaining Narukami and the Leopards can all manage three gravities.” Four gravities for the destroyers but sending them unsupported would be suicide. “Send them with as many fighters as they can resupply, follow the enemy home and crush them.”
“Likely they’ll be savaged,” Kunieda warned. “But you’re right. They will be anyway if they come back.”
“When they come back.” Jinjiro looked around and then leant over. “And if this fails, we must extricate the transports.”
“We cannot use the jump point here.” Kunieda indicated the Bethel proximity point. “Even if it wasn’t mined, we need the jumpships. If we stop our deceleration we could try to slingshot around Robinson and make it back.”
“And better if we started now?”
“Yes sir.”
Jinjiro nodded heavily. “Do it now. We can always slow down again if things look more promising.”
-
I don't think there's a base out there, but a major fleet of Davion carriers, possibly all the ones that would be expected to face the SLDF troops pushing over the border. Perhaps the goal is to crush the Kuritan assault as this is pretty much its speartip. You either badly maul their navy or get in amongst the transports and kill the troops. And even better, you've got a Combine capital ship there, with Jinjiro aboard, that's the supreme commander of the Combine assault on Davion space. Get him and you behead the offensive.
And it does seem that Lord Steiner was playing a shell game and his forces on the Protectorate front are far less than we thought, an excellent update as always!
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A sensible Jinjiro Kurita is a terrifying thing
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I'm waiting for the other shoe to drop... the outline was a bit more summarized than the (excellent) action here so far...
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Excellent fighter tactics. Jinjiro is playing it smart.
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Jinjiro may have been exceptionally cruel and almost certinally psychologically unstable, but he wasn't an idiot, but a skilled military commander. He was no Smoke Jaguar when it came to tactics. IE. *points in vague direction of possible location of enemy* CHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAARGE! As being a legit battle plan. He was no fool, no IJA officer from WW2 who knew only how to attack but would rather kill themselves and all the men under their command than withdraw even when it was possible.
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I don't think there's a base out there, but a major fleet of Davion carriers
It's Robinson. There are 100% ground bases out there, possibly even orbital ones. Question is if there is fleet of carrier besides that supporting said bases and if they are ready to jump in the very same pirate point after fighter coverage would "go hunting".
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They'e been in-system long enough to have quite a head of steam at 1G, even with a zero-zero intercept. So they want to slingshot around Robinson, now? Capital of the Draconis March? With, what, 10 regiments (five being half the invasion force)?
...I have a vision of the FS fleet jumping into the pirate point over the planet, and that 'Slingshot' becoming a deathtrap. Skip the WarShips; they're expending their fast destroyers to try to take the fighter bases. The slower WS and transports are going to run the gauntlet, making 'Kill the Kurita' and 'Kill the transports' the new mission. By the time they leave its going to be a massacre - I hope.
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superb fight, I wounder though, from reading previous things , why would davion not develop drone fighters? they have that small drone dropship so would not drone fighters be able to be produced MUCH faster and to better overall effect?
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I'm sure Hanse told the story of the Robinson massacre. There is enough forces in space to kill Jinjiro before he set foot on ground.
The worst thing would be to use the new battle armor to capture the kenrei. >:D
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superb fight, I wounder though, from reading previous things , why would davion not develop drone fighters? they have that small drone dropship so would not drone fighters be able to be produced MUCH faster and to better overall effect?
Fighters are smaller, and therefore require smaller, more efficient and refined systems than dropships.
It took 40 years for the Hegemony to develop SDS technology and it went through several generations of development. While the Federated Suns has a huge leg up, it does take a while.
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superb fight, I wounder though, from reading previous things , why would davion not develop drone fighters? they have that small drone dropship so would not drone fighters be able to be produced MUCH faster and to better overall effect?
*edit
Boy, you might be surprised. So could they. Check out Drak's TRO: DDD. Speaking of, I don't see an Atago-class BB on sarna, although they have the Dreadnought. Something to add to it for next time, Drak?
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I wonder if there are actually several pilots for every fighter, so each pilot is only flying one strike every 3-4 days? That would make them far more effective. Add in a way to transmit the battle logs back to the planet, so the next group of pilots can review what happened, while the first wave is still on its way back. Heck, use the autopilot to bring the fighters back, and let the pilots do the after-battle reports while still in the cockpit.
The worst thing would be to use the new battle armor to capture the kenrei. >:D
That would be wonderful
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I wonder if there are actually several pilots for every fighter, so each pilot is only flying one strike every 3-4 days? That would make them far more effective. Add in a way to transmit the battle logs back to the planet, so the next group of pilots can review what happened, while the first wave is still on its way back. Heck, use the autopilot to bring the fighters back, and let the pilots do the after-battle reports while still in the cockpit.
That would be wonderful
My thought as well, that's the cheaper option in a case like this.
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Hmm. The BA in Drak's TRO doesn't get its first showing until 2779 sometime. I'm still rooting for the Piranha drone - sounds like betel has a shipyard.
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It looks like the Dc are outnumbered substantially after the losses.
How can they protect both forces if they split up.
Drakk is preparing something nasty I can just feel it. ;)
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It looks like the Dc are outnumbered substantially after the losses.
How can they protect both forces if they split up.
Drakk is preparing something nasty I can just feel it. ;)
Pretty sure the Suns will be painting these DCA ships a nice a health glow in the dark green
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I wonder if there are actually several pilots for every fighter, so each pilot is only flying one strike every 3-4 days? That would make them far more effective. Add in a way to transmit the battle logs back to the planet, so the next group of pilots can review what happened, while the first wave is still on its way back. Heck, use the autopilot to bring the fighters back, and let the pilots do the after-battle reports while still in the cockpit.
That would be wonderful
I think that was mentioned as being doctrine
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DCS Atago, Robinson
Draconis March, Federated Suns
11 August 2777
Two hours later and Jinjiro felt as if he’d barely closed his hours to nap on the bunk in Kunieda’s day-cabin. “Say that again.”
“Four carriers and their escorts were lurking behind Robinson,” the admiral said bitterly. “Maybe they knew we were coming or maybe they jumped in through a safe channel in the minefields. The cowards didn’t dare face us in open battle so they hid and sent out their fighters as well as the replenishment fighters and pilots from Robinson.”
“It doesn’t explain how rested their crews are.”
Kunieda shook his head. “The New Syrtis-class carry double flight crews,” he explained. “When one sortie came back, the pilots disembarked to rest and recover while fresh pilots took over.”
“Decadent,” Jinjiro observed. “But effective. Our ships?”
He got a helpless shrug. “A Narukami can overhaul them, it’s one of the few advantages they have, but it takes time and there are six destroyers and two corvettes to screen the carriers. And now the fighters are recovered it might only be minutes before…”
Before hundreds of fresh crews in hastily re-armed fighters launch and obliterate our destroyers and dropships. And I can’t even have them run for the jump point due to the minefields. “Tell them… tell them that every carrier they can take out will mean many more of our comrades surviving,” Jinjiro instructed. “We will have to withdraw.”
“Sir, the shame…”
Jinjiro’s hand flashed out and he barely restrained himself from slapping the admiral. “The decision is mine, Tai-sho. The shame is also mine. The Coordinator will not blame you for following the orders of your appointed commander.” He patted Kunieda on the shoulder, more firmly than he probably should have given the way the man flinched. “Our duty now is to the transports.”
The admiral nodded. “I recommend we order a fifteen mps-squared acceleration – it will be hard on the soldiers but…”
“Better that than being blasted apart. Yes. How many ships could make more than that?”
Kunieda lowered his head. “All but the Atago, sir. To sustain such accelerations would be ill-advised though.”
The Heir-Designate shrugged. “Then the Atago will take the rear-guard position. Inform all commanders that I will not leave the system until every other jumpship has left the system.” The sooner you get the men out, the sooner they don’t have to worry about being the senior survivor and taking on the duty of responsibility for this trap I’ve walked into.
.o0O0o.
It took four days to circle Robinson and reach the jump point again. The carriers gave chase. More than half the Federated Suns fighters were gone but that meant that now they could all be fielded from the four New Syrtis-class ships, who clung with their escorts to the very fringes of the fleet’s ability to detect them.
For some reason the jumpships were unmolested, but every few hours another attack came in. For the first day, the fighter strikes were a rough parity with the Combine’s remaining strength – six hundred, five hundred, four hundred…
Jinjiro dared to hope for attrition sparing them. He visited the carriers and greeted the pilots, many of them hollow eyed and sleeping in their cockpits as they waited for the next attack, flight decks bustling around them. The entire fleet was polled and anyone with flight experience was pulled across to the carriers to provide a tiny pool of replacements – a mix of amateurs and veterans who’d flown only desks for the last decade or more.
Then seven hundred fighters boiled in on them and Jinjiro realised that the Federated Suns had pulled damaged craft from operations in order to repair them.
Most of the scratch crews died that day and squadrons of Centurions dared the anti-fighter fire of the fleet to punch through to the heart. More than twenty of them were destroyed just to get there, but seven Centurions reached the carriers and DCS Radstadt blew apart with more than four hundred crew dying in an instant. Her sister ship, the Togura, lost three engines and her ability to keep pace. Jinjiro was forced to order the carrier scuttled – he no longer needed the flight deck but the crew unloaded every munition they could drag aboard the surviving Leopards before they had to give up.
And then the grind. No more dramatic thrusts – the second day simply gutted his fighters and the dropships. The fleet shrank into a tight shell of mutually supporting fire and simply prayed.
Their prayer was not answered.
First the destroyers died in ones and twos. The Atago could guard the rear but it could not also be on the flanks and the Federated Suns fighter wings simply went around the ancient battleship.
Dropships began to die as they slowly shed speed, preparing to dock with the jumpships ahead. Jinjiro forced all expression from his face as the Proserpina Hussars dropships made a mad attempt to close with and ram the carriers. The regiments and their ships had served together for decades, they were one unit and determined that if they must die together they would die fighting.
But die they did, never even getting into weapons range of the carriers.
“Why won’t they fight us? Why won’t they just kill us!” Kunieda screamed upon the bridge, tears running down his face. Dignity broken, the man shot himself in the cabin he was confined in that night. Jinjiro didn’t asked who’d supplied the weapon, Kunieda’s own sidearm having been confiscated.
The Sun Zhang cadre died.
The Second Sword of Light, the Steel Dragon, died.
Half of the Fourteenth Galedon Regulars died.
The Third Dieron Regulars lost their entire infantry strength in an hour.
The Gold Dragon, the Fifth Sword of Light, clustered their dropships around the two surviving carriers like an honour guard after Jinjiro refused them the right to do the same with the Atago. Six hours from the jump point and a strike of two hundred Federated Suns screamed down and eradicated the Prosperina and the Irece, along with every one of their escorts.
And then, and then…
Jump flares ahead of them. A pair of corvettes had jumped in and jumpships began to burn.
In his heart of hearts, Jinjiro admired the catlike cruel efficiency of the strategy. Escape had been dangled before them, drawing them away from Robinson and the chance of some suicidal attack that might have at least netted them some advantage.
Some of the DCA jumpships were escaping – jumping away rather than be butchered. Jinjiro sent hasty orders authorising it and ordering the others to do the same. No use having good men pay the penalty for cowardice when they were faced with opponents they could not conceivably defeat.
And then he sat in Admiral Kunieda’s chair. “My claws,” he addressed the crew, addressed the entire fleet. “We cannot escape our fate. We can only seek to die like men. We have but one jumpship left to us and the Atago can carry no dropships.”
So much for my promise to be on the last jumpship, he thought. “But the two corvettes ahead of us have only just jumped in. Even hotloading from their reactors, they cannot recharge their drives in time to escape. They we can slay, though it cost us everything that remains to us bar our honour.”
Atago turned upon her axis, the stately old battleship bringing her bow towards the corvettes, and the dozens of remaining transports did the same, eager to pit their puny armament against the warships.
“Tai-sho,” requested Tai-sa Dazai Sorai of the Third Dieron Regulars. “We ask only that Atago jump as soon as it may.”
Jinjiro looked around the bridge and no one would meet his eyes. “Tai-sa, I will not slow the ship, nor cease to fire it weapons, but I swear that our K-F drive is charged and we shall jump immediately we enter the jump point.”
With their bloody work done, the corvettes turned away and fired up their drives. Powerful for the size of the corvettes, the engines could build up speed quickly but the Combine’s ships still had all the speed that they’d built up and they too were accelerating now, reckless that they were burning fuel at combat levels to the point that they might not slow down.
If they did not, then what of it? The star ahead would swallow their remains, denying the salvage to the Suns. And these corvettes would bear the wrath that had built up over the past days.
There were two lines upon the display. The first marked the range for the Atago’s forward armament and as it swept forwards across the nearest Vincent the battleship opened fire.
Two triple turrets hurled high explosive shells and the naval particle projection cannon behind them – for Tenno Kurita had insisted on those, at the time, new and experimental weapons for his father’s battleships – blazed.
Jinjiro saw the rear of the Vincent tear apart, drives exploding…
And then the Atago crossed the second line and centuries old (and truthfully rather anaemic) power systems that were already struggling to handle the combined obligations of the in-system drives and the weapons were suddenly exposed to the jump drive activating.
DCS Atago screamed, the hull from her prow to her stem and the crew from her most junior spacer to Jinjiro Kurita himself, as the ancient battleship leapt into hyperspace.
.o0O0o.
SLDF Headquarters, New Earth
Alliance Core, Terran Hegemony
25 August 2777
Jack Lucas waited until he was sure the holo-vid cameras were off before he slumped back into his chair. He’d spent – he checked the clock – more than an hour talking to Christopher Kurita. The Coordinator’s uncle and chief financial advisor was more than twice his age and he made Lucas feel every year of that added experience as they bargained over funding.
Steiner’s arrangement to directly fund the SLDF forces in the Lyran Commonwealth had leaked out and both Kurita and Marik had jumped at the chance to ‘simplify the financial support’ they were giving to the SLDF. For now, the change was holding just short of giving the House Lords access to the chain of command but Lucas could feel that line blurring.
The general was honest enough to admit that if the Coordinator had been part of the negotiations then he might not have held off on that point. The man was devilishly clever and diabolically ambitious – serpentine in his wiles. It was almost fortunate – although Lucas wouldn’t say so much – that the man was distracted by concern for his son.
Robinson had been a debacle, but he thought that the Coordinator could have coped if it was just that. Sometimes battles were lost, it was part of war. Losing effectively half of the Draconis Combine’s expeditionary force was a terrible reverse but not without precedent.
What had Minoru Kurita distracted was uncertainty. Had Jinjiro escaped or not? If so, where was he?
Sources within the Federated Suns claimed that DCS Atago had jumped out during the tail end of the battle but the last jumpships to escape had reported seeing the ancient battleship still fighting. Given that the only survivors of the frenzied final clash of arms at the jump point were a handful of escape pods that had managed to stabilise their positions long enough for rescue to arrive, it was possible that no one really knew what had happened… or it was possible that House Davion had captured the Atago and the heir of the Combine.
The military value of the hulk was nothing compared to the potential disaster if Jinjiro was alive and in their hands. The young general had had access to virtually all of the Combine’s military secrets and besides that, he might pose leverage against his father. One secret that General Apfelbucher had ferreted out at last was why the Combine had stayed out of the Amaris Coup: their ambassador Drago Kurita had been a hostage, along with his four children.
Kurita had been side-lined by a threat to his nephew, what could a threat to his son accomplish? Amaris had killed his hostages in a final show of spite during the Terran landings, but John Davion was unlikely to do that, which would just make a captive more useful as leverage.
“Sir?”
He looked up and saw Colonel Hazen at the door. “A priority message from the Chancellor.”
Lucas rested his face on one hand and took a breath. “Put her through,” he ordered, straightening his uniform.
A moment later and Barbara Liao’s head and shoulders appeared above the desk. She wore a military-styled tunic, cut to resemble body-armour, and her hair was down. “General Lucas.”
“Chancellor Liao.”
They stared at each other for a testing moment before she seemed to shrug. “General, I must request the mobilisation of Eighteenth Army to support my forces. Tikonov is holding out and Kathil is within our grasp but the Confederation cannot do this alone.”
“You are not fighting alone,” he replied quietly.
Liao made a face. “The Combine’s offensive has been broken,” she pointed out. “And Davion seems happy to lead your own troops dancing around the Crucis March without ever engaging them directly, so he will take the months of respite to throw fresh troops at the Chesterton and Kathil fronts. I need your soldiers.”
Lucas grunted unhappily. The Eighteenth Army was a shell. There were fifteen divisions – no, fourteen now that the 184th had withdrawn from New Hessen and dropped out of contact – but the three Corps that made up the Confederation garrisons had all been reserve units at one time or another, assigned to the Eighteenth during the various reorganisations that had taken place since 2766. Offhand, he wasn’t sure a single intact division remained from those that had once garrisoned the Outworlds Alliance under the banner of the Eighteenth Army. The three corps it currently constituted, pulled in from three different armies, had never actually fought together – they’d sat out the Terran campaign as part of Baptiste’s forces holding the liberated Hegemony worlds together.
“They’d need supplies,” he said reluctantly, aware already where this conversation would lead. “Our reserves are already being depleted.”
She gave him a wry smile. “Steiner made you an offer under similar circumstances. I don’t think it was an unfair one. But since General Baptiste has met little resistance, surely her supplies must be mostly intact.”
“Men still eat, ships still demand fuel…” Lucas grimaced. “And she’s been leaving stocks of munitions and other consumables with garrisons on the worlds liberated – in case John Davion strikes at the rear to retake those worlds.”
“I suppose it’s a logical concern,” the Chancellor conceded. “But in the case that he does so, rather than reinforcing the Capellan March, then you can’t afford for me to lose Tikonov. The worlds there are the closest to her line of advance, and they are almost cut off.”
She wasn’t entirely wrong. Demeter and Chesterton had formed a salient into Capellan space for centuries, creating a small pocket of worlds caught between it and the Hegemony. Tikonov’s industrial strength and population had made it a desirable target during the Age of War and although it’s former empire, the Tikonov Grand Union, had been absorbed into the Capellan Confederation; the campaigns fought around it were still standard reading in military academies. Now it was the only one of the six worlds in that pocket that hadn’t fallen to the Federated Suns, and without the other five it was two jumps away from other Capellan worlds.
“I don’t suppose the Maskirovka have any fresh insight into what happened to the 184th Mechanized?” he asked, changing the subject.
Liao smiled thinly. “No new data has been received, but I would not be surprised to learn in the near future that someone has placed a bond with Felchow and Sohn in their name.”
“That would be mutiny.” And borderline treason, he thought but didn’t add. Relocating to the Outworlds Alliance had done nothing to the bank’s eye for profit and they were already becoming notorious as an intermediary in the burgeoning mercenary market.
“They’re hardly the only unit to make that choice,” she pointed out. “Marik has the 250th as an example for them.”
He steepled his fingers. “We should be grateful, I suppose, that they’re unlikely to take service with the Federated Suns.”
Liao’s eyes danced. “There is that. I doubt they will have to look far for an employer.”
“Would you hire them?”
“I’m at war with John Davion and Kenyon is eying my border with him avariciously. If the King of Hell offered me a division I’d at least consider it.”
Lucas stiffened. “I suppose you would. I will have my staff establish what would be required to mobilise the Eighteenth, Chancellor, and the information will be sent to Sian.”
“Thank you, general. It’s always a pleasure to do business with you.”
Liao vanished, leaving Lucas wondering how much difference she saw between him and the soldiers of the 184th Mechanized Infantry Division.
-
Newport, Markesan
Crucis March, Federated Suns
2 September 2777
“What the hell’s a patisserie, anyway?” asked a familiar voice as the door opened.
Aaron DeChevilier looked up from the newspaper he was reading. “Fancy name for a baker, sergeant major.”
The man who walked in wasn’t wearing a uniform but no one familiar with the breed would have mistaken Gregor Abbot for anything but what he was: a career soldier. He drew himself up as he saw DeChevilier and almost saluted.
“You don’t have to do that,” his one-time commanding officer reminded him. “I’m not your boss anymore.”
“You’re not the CO, any more.” Abbot stepped into the room to let those behind him in and saluted anyway. “But you’ll always be the boss of me.”
“You dumb ape.” DeChevilier stood and returned the salute. “It’s a hell of a while since we were both with the 149th.”
The two men shook hands and Cynthia DeChevilier shook her head in mock dismay. “Boys will be boys. I trust there won’t be any foolishness with you ladies?”
“I’m not a lady, I’m a MechWarrior,” Rosaleen McGuinness said brightly and looked over at the table. “Oh, scones!”
“Help yourself,” Cynthia said and exchanged a hug with Tatjana Baptiste and then with the man behind her. “Is this everyone?”
“It’s everyone who came with us,” the man told her. “It’s good to see you again, Mrs DeChevilier.”
“Please, if you’re going to be formal it’s Captain, not Mrs. But I’d rather you called me Cynthia.”
“Well in that case it’s Gerik,” he conceded and looked past her to the other man who’d been waiting. “It’s been a while, Nolan.”
Nolan Murphy, late of the SLDF’s LVII Corps and more recently of the Federated Suns Lancers, nodded and offered his hand to his former commanding officer. “It has. Not the best of time, but not the worst either.”
“Sit down, all of you.” DeChevilier waved them to seats around the long table that dominated the room, carved wooden seats around the spotless white tablecloth and several plates of sweet and savoury concoctions.
Abbot hesitated and only sat when he got a nod from Baptiste. “Sirs,” he said somewhat plaintively. “Why are we meeting in a baker’s upstairs function room?”
“Firstly, the place has first rate security system. Secondly, the owner’s a friend of Cynthia’s. Thirdly, the scones are fantastic.” He punctuated that by pulling a platter of cheese scones away from McGuinness and handed them to Gerik Chudzik, who put two on his plate before passing them on. “Finally, if anyone goes looking for a group of SLDF and ex-SLDF officers plotting treason, I’m pretty sure the Come Runnin’ Patisserie is pretty far down the list of places they’d look.”
“So it’s treason then.” The sergeant major shook his head. “Never thought it would come to this.”
“Nor did most of us,” agreed Murphy quietly. “But I couldn’t stand what the Council was playing at any more.”
McGuinness spread butter across some of scones she did have. “Are we talking making Davion First Lord or has that ship jumped?”
“Two years ago we could have done that. He doesn’t think it would have worked, but either way that’s not feasible now. No, something else.” DeChevilier folded his hands on the table. “I’m pretty sure the lot of you stacked your force with officers you knew wouldn’t start a bloodbath, and those officers did the same with their regiments and brigades. How’ve they liked the fighting so far?”
“What fighting?” asked Abbot. “We turn up, the Feds declare they’ll hold their position as long as it’s feasible. We deploy to engage them and they decide ‘oh no, our position isn’t feasible’ and under laws of engagement we have to let them retreat. Rinse and repeat.”
“Better than shooting,” pointed out Cynthia.
The old soldier smiled slightly. “Got a point there, Mrs General DeChevilier. Sorry, Captain DeChevilier.”
“Actually, her nautical master’s license says DeKirk,” her husband added slyly.
“It’s easier than waiting six weeks for some clerk to figure out how to spell DeChevilier,” she told him.
“Do you really want to fight the AFFS?” asked Murphy. “Any of you?”
The three generals shook their heads. Abbot hesitated. “I don’t like it, but what choice do we have?”
“I think that’s what the general is about to tell us,” Baptiste said quietly. “I’ve come this far on trust, sir. Do we have choices?”
DeChevilier nodded. “Several, as it happens. Firstly, you can keep heading for New Avalon. Until now John Davion’s let you come. As I’m sure you can tell, the AFFS has been operating under some pretty tight restrictions of their own. He did that because I asked him for time, and he gave me that. But right now your lead elements are one jump from Markesan and this is where he draws the line. If none of the alternatives appeal to you, please consider that the next AFFS troops you see might not be backing off.”
“And with the Dracs having jumped up and down on their own crankshafts, he can afford to move forces out of the Draconis March,” McGuinness noted. “Yeah, I’d like a bit more naval support if we go with that option, ma’am,” she added to Baptiste.
The Army Group commander nodded. “Taken under advisement.”
“The second option is what I took,” Murphy told them. “Accept the Star League we’re fighting for is gone and fight for the one realm that stood up for its ideals. John Davion would welcome any and all of you into the AFFS. Straight transfer at equivalent rank, we get to form our own units and keep out traditions. It’s not perfect, you’d know I was lying if I said it was, but it’s better than fighting for people who don’t care what happens to the League as long as they’re in charge at the end of the day.”
“So far, you haven’t had to fight against the SLDF, General Murphy.” Chudzik looked the man in the eye. “Could Davion promise us that that would continue?”
“Nope.” He popped the ‘p’ in the reply. “We can’t control where General Lucas will send the SLDF and if they come at the Suns again, then the AFFS will fight them. And if that includes ex-SLDF troops then that’s how it is.”
The Sixth Army commander nodded. “I appreciate the honesty.”
“You said several choices,” Baptiste observed, looking at DeChevilier. He, in turn, looked at his wife.
“This one’s coming from me,” Cynthia told them. “There’s a place in the periphery you can go. Somewhere we can sit out the wars that are coming. There are already refugees heading there, and they could do with soldiers to defend them. For those who are sick of soldiering, there’s plenty of room for a civilian career. I‘ve reached out to some people I know and they’re onboard with the idea if you are.”
“You want to build our own state, out in the Periphery?”
“Yes, somewhere the Star League’s ideals can survive even if, perish the thought, the Federated Suns doesn’t.”
Abbot leant forwards and looked at his former division commander. “Would you be in charge, sir?”
“I’d be leading the military side of things,” DeChevilier advised. “But this is my wife’s idea and she’d be heading up the provisional civilian government.”
“You, ma’am?”
Cynthia shrugged her shoulders. “Aaron told me that command was a hard habit to shake. Running a ship challenged me in ways I didn’t expect, but he was right. He’s got an annoying habit of being right, you know…”
Baptiste looked over at Abbot. “You’re the one who’s closest to the troops, sergeant major. Whatever the chiefs say, there are a lot of indians and no one can make them do any of this.”
He rubbed his face. “I…” Breaking off he reached out, filled a cup from a tea-pot and then reached into his pocket and pulled out a small flask that he stiffened the tea with. “Sir, I swore the oath.”
DeChevilier nodded. “So did I. Do you think less of me for doing this?”
“Hell, no sir. You know word got around of what you said to Marik.” He grinned sheepishly. “I figure most of the lords don’t pay much attention to the guards inside the chamber.”
“John Davion tried to remind them.”
“Can lead a horse to water, can’t make it drink.” He gulped down some of the tea. “Is this all or nothing?”
“Everyone gets to choose, Gregor. But everyone has to choose. We’re on the spot.”
Abbot nodded, not commenting on the use of his first name. “They’ll do it,” he told Baptiste. “Not for you, sorry, but they’d have followed Kerensky. They’ll follow Davion or DeChevilier.”
“Some people have it, some people don’t,” she said calmly.
McGuiness nodded. “And Jack Lucas doesn’t, poor bastard.”
“No one forced him to take the job,” DeChevilier replied sadly. “He’s a hell of a combat commander, but he should have known better.”
“They probably called it duty,” Cynthia said. “You have trouble turning that down, and so does he.”
Her husband nodded. “What about the fleet?”
“Most of the transports are with us,” Abbot told him. “The warships though…”
“I’d guess about half will go with you. Crews live and die together, so they’re more cohesive than the troops,” McGuinness observed.
“You’re not coming, Rosaleen?” asked Cynthia.
“Like I said, I’m a MechWarrior. And we’ve got a war here, maybe a lot of wars.”
Murphy nodded. “AFFS then?”
She shook her head. “No, nothing against Davion but he won’t live forever. Who knows what the next First Prince will be. I’ll work for him but only on a… contractual basis.”
“You mean as a mercenary?”
“I’m pretty sure I can put an outfit together,” she said confidently. “Are you telling me he’s not hiring?”
The AFFS officer smiled slightly. “He certainly is. Although, being a merc’ means no safety net if things go wrong.”
“Oh, like being a soldier is a safe profession?”
.o0O0o.
Imperial City, Luthien
Pesht District, Draconis Combine
15 September 2777
Zabu Kurita had only entered the Black Room four times before today.
The first as a small child, by invitation of his grandfather. No business had been scheduled, the Coordinator had merely wished to share the nerve-centre of the Draconis Combine with his grandsons so they could begin to appreciate the trust that would one day be placed in them. Zabu recalled that Jinjiro had been allowed to sit in the Coordinator’s chair while Zabu had perched in the seat to his right, the two boys dwarfed by the large leather chairs.
Three times as an adolescent he had been permitted to enter and stand behind his father as a reward for academic performance. Bound by a vow to silence he had observed as Warlords and Ministers accounted for themselves in the subterranean chamber, surrounded by every security measure known to artificers of the Combine. No signal was permitted to enter or escape the Black Room, all data must be hand-carried and the computers within were isolated from all contact with the outside universe.
Now, for the first time, he was entering of his own volition. The guards tensed as he approached.
“Halt.”
Zabu obeyed. “I require entrance.”
“The prince is not on today’s list.”
He presented the verigraphed envelope. “I carry urgent news from the palace communications centre.”
The guards exchanged looks. “Advance for identification.”
Obediently, Zabu stepped forwards and submitted to quick and efficient checks of his retinas and finger prints. The verigraph upon the envelope was checked and he was required to strip off his outer garments in the antechamber so two technicians could ensure he was smuggling neither a weapon nor a transmission device into the Black Room.
Besides all of this, he knew that one of the handful of cleared servants was descending the stair that lay behind two more doors to query his right of entrance. Even that man would not actually be permitted entrance while the room was in use. Through a carefully screened vision slot he would signal the presence of a new arrival.
Before Zabu was done buckling his belt again the servant had returned and without words gave the signal to signify that permission had been granted for his entrance. The young Kurita shrugged on his uniform jacket and sealed it as he took the stair down.
Rather than the turn to the vision slot, he took the turn towards the entrance and waited compliantly before the door as various secondary hatches sealed the stair off behind him. The vault-like door opened and Zabu entered the holy of holies.
Despite the name there was little darkness within the room. Subdued but efficient lights illuminated a stark room, a long table with many computer terminals built into its surface and the walls covered by paper screens. Behind the screens subdued lights and speakers gave the impression that one could be in one of the traditional rooms of the palace, surrounded by the gardens.
Minoru Kurita sat at the head of the table, a heavy pistol resting on the wood in ready reach of his hands, mute testament to the extraordinary nature of his son’s presence.
“Chu-i Kurita, account for yourself.”
Zabu dropped to his knees. “Your servant carries a message of the highest importance, Coordinator.”
“News of Prince Jinjiro?” asked the warlord of Pesht. Hector Manati was perhaps the closest of the DCMS’ four senior officers to Zabu but even his eyes were cold now.
He proffered the document he held. “No sir. A transmission has been received from New Avalon.”
“Good news could wait.” The Coordinator gestured for him to rise. “Hector.”
Manati took the envelope and carried it to Zabu’s father, who checked the seal himself and then broke it, tipping the datachip within out onto the table. There were no servants within the Black Room to carry out the mundane tasks while it was in use. The Coordinator personally slotted the thumbnail-sized chip into an input slot.
The holographic image of a room appeared above the table. Tiered seating filled a half-circle and before it was a modest podium and a starkly elegant throne. The banner of the Federated Suns hung in crimson, black and gold behind the man on that throne: John Davion.
At the podium, a smaller man stood. A brief caption marked him as the delegate for Delavan. “Your highness, for all the news of victories against the Combine and the Confederation, the fact remains that a much larger army has crossed half of the distance to New Avalon. What certainty can you offer the High Council that the SLDF will not be shortly arriving to remove you from your throne and sovereignty from the Federated Suns?”
The focus of the display shifted to the throne and Zabu saw that Prince Davion’s face was serious but not alarmed. He sat straight and when he rose he showed more energy than he had displayed in video reports from Terra as the Council had met. “Your question is timely, Duke Fulgress.”
The recording paused and Zabu saw his father had paused it. “He is on balance,” the Coordinator mused. “Study the faces, there are hundreds of men and women on the High Council of the Federated Suns and they are all leaders in their own rights. There is alarm, there is anger and those loyal to him act out of faith not knowledge.”
Zabu had viewed it before of course and his father was right. “What he is about to say -”
Minoru Kurita cut him off with a raised finger. “I will watch. You were right to bring this to me immediately. Take your seat.” The finger indicated the seat to his right, that traditionally that of the Heir-Designate. Jinjiro’s place.
Swallowing, Zabu rose from his knees and walked around to the indicated seat. He hesitated before pulling it back.
“We will formalise the matter later,” the Coordinator murmured. “The succession must be clear and uncontested.”
There were nods of understanding around the table and Zabu lowered his head, biting back any protest. His half-brother had just been deprived of his place as Heir-Designate. Whether he was dead or merely disgraced, everything Jinjiro had worked for since his mother’s death was now set to naught.
The display resumed motion. “General Tatjana Baptiste, the commander of the SLDF’s Army Group within the Suns, has contacted me today to commend to me the services of General Gerik Chudzik of Sixth Army and some one hundred twenty-seven regiments, the majority of whose personnel have expressed the wish to join the Armed Forces of the Federated Suns.”
There was outcry within the distant chamber, but also here in the Black Room. “Treason!” Manati exclaimed. “The SLDF has betrayed us all.”
“Certain elements of it.” Zabu’s father had paused the recording.
“How has he done this?” Ayaki Fujiwara’s eyes blazed as the Warlord of Benjamin glared at Maria Tachibana of the Internal Security Force.
The woman, whose greying blonde hair hinted at her origins within the Rasalhague district, steepled her fingers. “Until now we have counted Captain-General Marik’s subversion of the 250th BattleMech division as the high point of efforts to recruit from the SLDF. For the past four months only the Federated Suns has had access to the Fourth and Sixth Armies.”
“Davion just gained more troops than Cameron did when he had the royals defect.”
“That should surprise no one familiar with John Davion and Keith Cameron,” the Coordinator declared flatly. “We have grown accustomed to the notion that the First Prince is a military commander of high calibre. Yet the Ministry of Intelligence is his work as well.”
Manati pressed his hands to the table. “If General Lucas has been compromised as well, then all of the SLDF could be about to change hands. There are a hundred and sixty SLDF regiments inside the Combine.”
“Yes. A rather smaller number than he discusses.” Minoru Kurita steepled his fingers. “Baptiste has – had – almost three hundred and fifty regiments available to her. It is interesting to consider what the other units will be doing.”
“And what of warships?” asked Isoru Khalfani. The head of the Draconis Combine Admiralty cupped his chin. “There are four squadrons with her forces. That would vastly outweigh every ship lost on both sides of our recent battles.”
He did not, Zabu noted, dwell on the point that the trade in warships had been overwhelmingly in the Suns’ favour. Two corvettes, FCS Neptune and FCS Mercury, had been reported as lost by the FSN at Robinson, but in the two battles at Royal and Robinson eleven of the Combine’s fleet had been confirmed destroyed, five more would need extensive repairs and the Atago remained missing.
“Let us find out.”
John Davion began to move yet again. “We are also honoured to accept the services of ten warships, including the battleship Prinz Eugen, whose crews have chosen to place the bounds of honour that tie the Federated Suns to the brave men and women who vanquished Amaris over the venal and ambitious Council Lords.”
Zabu saw his father’s lips tighten. Both of them ignored Khalfani’s muttering at the revelation.
“In addition to this, negotiations are underway to secure us the services of a new mercenary command we have learned of. Rosaleen’s Rhinos have indicated they’re open to a five-year rolling contract, which will place an additional six BattleMech regiments and various supporting elements in our defence.” Davion’s lips curled in satisfaction. “I hope that I have allayed the Council’s concerns.”
“Rhinos?” Manati murmured. “The tanks?”
Tachibana shook her head. “General Rosaleen McGuinness, of the SLDF’s Fourth Army, is nicknamed ‘The Rhino’,” she explained. “It seems that the upper levels of the SLDF invasion force have been totally subverted.”
Fujiwara half-rose. “Lord Kurita, we could strike hard now – assemble a deep strike force and break for New Avalon directly. The units sent would be destroyed but killing John Davion would be worth it.”
“No.”
The warlord sank back into his chair.
“We do not know Baptiste’s own intentions and Davion will assuredly send more regiments to reclaim the worlds we have taken from him. Thinning the border further could allow him to seek to invade us as he has the Confederation.” His father looked at Zabu. “Davion has moved, do you see our counter-move?”
The young man turned the problem over in his head for a moment and then looked up. “As Warlord Manati said, there are one hundred and sixty SLDF regiments within the Combine, the Fifteenth Army. And since we control their supply lines we have open access to them. Let us use the Pillars of Jade and of Teak to win their loyalties from alongside them. General Lucas dare not protest when these events cast his own loyalties in doubt.”
Teak – culture – and Jade – wealth – were two of the five pillars of the Combine. If the Steel of the military was temporarily unable to carry the weight, well that was why there were five pillars and not merely one.
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Yep, that was the other shoe all right... I certainly hope FSS Mercury and FSS Neptune get a memorial built to them...
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Nice, the SLDF advance reminds me of the novel "The Ten Thousand".
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Wait..nearly the entire army group invading the Suns defected!? O_o That's a MASSIVE number of troops and a huge game changer. And it seems there's still an EXODUS going ahead, all be it a smaller one under DeChaveller rather than Kerensky. I'm surprised he does not go stay with Alexander, considering that the two were very good friends.
The Battle of Robinson was expertly written and done, very clever of the Davions, they basically crushed the offensive power of the Kuritan military, or knocked it back so hard on its heels its reeling. Superb stuff and an EXCELLENT update!
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And no new weapons like the Jack or Piranha. Well done, I would have used them - the sign of a lazy writer, I guess.
I am curious about the realm the remaining SLDF forces will choose, shall the guessing begin now? Rim Worlds, or Outworlds? Or something deeper into the Periphery?
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Small quibble; 15 Warships accompany the troops through the Jump point, 11 were destroyed, 5 crippled, and the Atago MIA. So, two Warships are unaccounted for.
He did not, Zabu noted, dwell on the point that the trade in warships had been overwhelmingly in the Suns’ favour. Two corvettes, FCS Neptune and FCS Mercury, had been reported as lost by the FSN at Robinson, but in the two battles at Royal and Robinson eleven of the Combine’s fleet had been confirmed destroyed, five more would need extensive repairs and the Atago remained missing.
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The other two were destroyed at Royal, I think...
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Hmm. Could be; I thought maybe he was counting the FS Warships, but that makes sense.
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Small quibble; 15 Warships accompany the troops through the Jump point, 11 were destroyed, 5 crippled, and the Atago MIA. So, two Warships are unaccounted for.
Those must have been the two with the convoy in the earlier scene that got smashed - the one that triggered the death haiku thing.
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Those must have been the two with the convoy in the earlier scene that got smashed - the one that triggered the death haiku thing.
Yeah, that's it. Well, I feel silly now.
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im curious, im prettus surer davion has spiees aand people all over every sldf place aattempting to win them over. I wounder if aall of them in other relms, jst how many will be like <fu&% it, lets goto john, at least we know he is honeraable and loves the star league!>
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I'm kinda going to guess as the SLDF breaks up:
25% of the SLDF to Davion and Kerensky
20% for Cameron (hopefully this will be enough to keep the Terran Hegemony alive)
10% to follow DeChavilier Exodus plan
20% to join the remaining houses or become mercs
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I'm kinda going to guess as the SLDF breaks up:
25% of the SLDF to Davion and Kerensky
20% for Cameron (hopefully this will be enough to keep the Terran Hegemony alive)
10% to follow DeChavilier Exodus plan
20% to join the remaining houses or become mercs
looks about right, though i thinik more would go with davion and kerensky and maby only %10-15 for cameron
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I'm assuming their baker was a certain Cameron?
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It would make sense. Also there must have been many death haikus at Robinson.
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It would make sense. Also there must have been many death haikus at Robinson.
Kuritas in space
get trounced by smart Davions -
all is fair in war.
(I think I´m getting the hang of this...)
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How did the Kuritian JumpShips know to arrive at the Pirate Point? Did the Kuritian fleet have Mobile HPGs?
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edit - nemmind, just figured out I failed my reading comprehension. Previous post null
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Muran, Kathil
Capellan March, Federated Suns
30 September 2777
“We could do with some of those carriers now,” Michael Stopec said, arms folded across his chest.
The Capellan landings on Muran, Kathil’s largest and most industrialised continent, had been followed by two months of manoeuvring for position as the Sian Dragoons and Liao Lancers tried to break past the loose cordon of AFFS forces towards the General Motors factories at District City and the ground facilities for the James McKenna shipyards. Despite their slim numerical advantage, they’d been unable to push back the Fourth Davion Guards and the supporting 20th Avalon Hussars and Kathil March Militia.
Now they’d pulled back and as that cordon advanced, it was becoming clear they’d gone back to their dropships.
“Do you think they might be trying a suborbital hop?” asked Thomas Green-Davion.
“I can’t rule it out.” The Prince’s Champion glanced up at the sky. “The Militia are forting up around the factories just in case. But more likely they’re short of supplies and someone decided to pull back rather than throw in reinforcements.”
“If so then you’ve saved Kathil.”
Stopec shook his head. “Not yet. I really wish we had another carrier.”
“The Novaya Zemlya is in system,” offered the Field Marshal.
“We need her at the jumpship yards. But if we had a second, I’d want her in orbit here. That big bastard up there worries me.”
The battlespace display showed a gently curved slice of Kathil’s northern hemisphere and a small battlegroup of four warships, all glowing the ominous green of Capellan allegiance. Two elderly destroyers and a brand-new corvette escorted a gargantuan ‘heavy cruiser’.
“It’s certainly a target of opportunity. Is there anyone we can call in?”
Golden eyes glittered. “There are only four carrier groups in the Capellan March. The Kestrel and the New Syrtis are in the Tikonov pocket, the Remagen is trying to screen the entire rimwards operational region on her own. His highness is sending the Basantapur now that the SLDF issue is resolved but she’s two weeks away.”
It was Green-Davion’s turn to nod. The carriers had more than proven they could carry their weight at Robinson but the sprawling nature of the Federated Suns meant that they couldn’t be everywhere. In addition, there weren’t enough escorts. Destroyer construction was faster but not by enough to make up for the ships lost in the Hegemony campaign. The SLDF defections were invaluable, adding five fast destroyers, but it would take time to have the ships ready for deployment.
“Sir, we have dropship launches,” reported a technician. “Heavy fighter escorts.”
“I guess they’re not sure we won’t pull a carrier out of our back pockets.”
Stopec nodded. “Our aero wings could make a play for them but they don’t have the numbers.”
Or the nukes, thought Green-Davion. Despite the prioritised manufacture from before the war, the FSN stockpiles were being depleted at a terrifying rate. The Battle of Robinson alone had gone through more than ten thousand nuclear missiles, and while Capellan March stocks were better, they wouldn’t be replaced for a while as shipments were being diverted to make good the expenditures on the other front.
The two of them watched more dropships rise from the surface. The angles said it all – the ships didn’t curve into the arcs that would bring them down somewhere else on Kathil. They were headed for jump-points where no doubt jumpships would arrive to carry them home.
Green-Davion exhaled in relief. They might return – seven Federated Suns worlds were still in Capellan hands and a number were within one jump of Kathil, but for now it was over.
“Status change on CCS Solstice!”
Both men turned their attention to the Capellan warships. The Solstice was the heavy cruiser, a Soyal-class ship. No one knew how well the class would do in a real fight, they’d never been battle-tested, but Soyals had bloated during design until the ships were almost as large as the FSN’s newly acquired battleship and size alone might make it dangerous.
“They’re shifting towards a polar orbit – a lower orbit,” reported the technician monitoring the orbital radar reports.
Stopec’s brows lowered. “Dammit,” he said slowly. And then, more savagely. “Dammit, they know.”
“What?”
The Colonel grabbed his communications officer. “Get me flight operations,” he barked and then looked back at Green-Davion. “If we had a carrier, we’d have gone for their dropships. But we don’t, we didn’t and that means they know we can’t. That means they can afford to risk descending to bombard the surface.”
“Here?” the Field Marshal asked and then answered his own question. “No, they’d not be moving north. They wouldn’t… the factories?”
“If they can’t take them, they’ll try to deny them to us.” A handset was handed to Stopec and he put it to the side of his head. “Tristam? Get your fighters loaded for a nuclear strike. Yes, I know. Yes… no… Shut the hell up! There’s a one point five megaton warship moving to hit District City with orbital fire and you’re all we have.”
“Is there time to call in the Novaya Zemlya?” asked Green-Davion.
“Can’t afford to risk the jumpship yards,” Stopec said, holding the handset away from his mouth for a moment.
After two months of skirmishing, the combined fighter strength of the planetary militia, the Davion Guards brigade and the other two divisions came to only sixty-seven aerospace fighters, against seventy-one Capellans, and the Federated Suns craft were mostly medium and heavy fighters, not the light, fast Centurions and Sabres that were used to penetrate defensive fire.
Laden with heavy missile loads, the fighters were forced into a tangling dog-fight against the Capellans, pilot after pilot forced to jettison their loads in order to engage.
Somehow a single Hellcat II broke past the defenders, two Lightnings chasing after it. The pilot fired his missile and started to evade only for the autocannon of his pursuers to shatter the agile fighter before he could escape.
The lone missile caught the Solstice on the spine near its dropship collars, electromagnetic flare distorting reports of it. On the display, the warship vanished, replaced by a ‘last sighted’ marker.
And then, crushing their hopes, the heavy cruiser was reacquired. There was debris, there was fire, but the Solstice had survived the hit.
“Dammit,” murmured Stopec.
Green-Davion gestured for the handset. “Get me District City’s civic hall,” he ordered. “We need to evacuate everyone we can.”
Six hours later, CCS Solstice turned its nose away from Kathil and began to thrust for a jump point. Beneath the ship, District City burned. The upper levels of the General Motors factories had collapsed, killing thousands of civilians taking cover, but the deeper sections with tens of thousands more had survived. Given time, emergency services would be able to get them out.
In the short term, they had all they could do trying to contain the inferno that was consuming two residential districts from shots that had missed the McKenna surface facilities. More than fifty thousand lives rested on keeping the fires from spreading and the tiny handful of Capellan March Militia survivors joined the firefighters, ignoring the anger of those they’d failed to protect.
In the final act of their invasion, the six surviving Capellan fighters launched their own nuclear missiles at the orbital dropship yards. With nothing to stop them, the core of the yards was vaporised and more than a million tons of wreckage began to enter the atmosphere – for better or for worse, over the ocean.
.o0O0o.
Parnassus City, Helen
Lockdale Province, Terran Hegemony
10 October 2777
With the news coming out of the Federated Suns, Ethan wouldn’t have been surprised if the redeployment of the Ninth BattleMech Division had put him on that border. Several divisions were being rushed to worlds like New Rhodes, Ozawa or Rio – partially for fear that the Federated Suns invasion of the Capellan Confederation would continue across the border into the Hegemony and partly due to concerns that the AFFS might not be entirely unwelcome if they did.
Instead his command had been ordered to Helen, a sleepy agricultural world that had been liberated on 2769. The gazetteer he’d consulted, dating to before the Amaris Coup, claimed that the planet was a haven for artists and that the capital rivalled Unity City for its beauty. More recent reports spoke of violence between the natives and a flood of refugees from the neighbouring provincial capital.
The humanitarian crisis on Lockdale was coming to a close, the population reduced by evacuations and deaths to barely a tenth of its former numbers, a level sustainable on the remaining farmlands. Ethan still shivered remembering the fighting in Crimson Springs – the city was now an empty tomb, the entire region abandoned save for salvage teams.
One small trickle of the torrent of Lockdalian refugees had gone no further than Helen, but the addition of several million hungry urbanites had done little to help the looted world.
Star League and Terran Hegemony flags flew proudly above the spaceport as the ‘Mechs of the division unloaded. Crowds pressed against the fences around the complex, many of them waving placards. Ethan was particularly taken by one that surrounded the slogan of ‘Make Art, Not War’ with a gothic tapestry of roses and bones.
Thin lines of police and Hegemony soldiers were keeping a wary eye on the separation between elements of the crowd. Slogans nearer the divide probably cut closer to the main issues – ‘cleanse the slums’ against ‘no more ghettos’ and ‘food for the hungry’ against ‘lock the door’.
Musings on that were cut off as he saw a surprising face in the welcoming party.
Hector Graham gave him a wary smile as he saluted. “Welcome to Helen, Major General Moreau. I thought when I saw your name that it might be you.”
“I had no idea you were even on Helen, much less…”
“Much less wearing the uniform of the Hegemony Armed Forces?” The colonel plucked at his uniform, very similar to Ethan’s own, in a depreciating fashion. “Being labelled an Amaris partisan doesn’t do much for employment prospects on Keid, but Keith Cameron was offering a recruitment bonus for people with combat experience.”
“It’s a funny old universe,” Ethan admitted. He’d last seen Hector Graham at the head of a mixed regiment of Hegemony Patriots. Persuading the man to surrender had saved hundreds of lives on both sides but the surrendering soldiers had spent the rest of the war in internment. “How does that rub along with ex-SLDF personnel?”
“There’s the odd bit of friction, but we have the Hegemony in common and most will allow a man the chance to make up for his mistakes.” He gestured towards the terminal. “We have some ground cars to get you and your staff to the governor’s reception.”
Ethan nodded. “That’s fine, can you hold up for a few moments though. Small errand to take care of.”
“There are toilets in the terminal building.”
“No, I went on the dropship. I’ll be right back, I promise.” Turning, he walked towards the fence. Protestors fell silent as he approached, eyes fixing on him. So were several cameras but he chose to ignore them.
Raising one hand in a friendly wave, Ethan raised his voice slightly. “Good afternoon. Thank you for coming out to welcome us to Helen.”
“What are you here for?” one voice demanded anonymously from the middle of the crowd.
The young major general smiled. “Well one of your placards caught my eye – the one saying ‘Make Art, Not War’… yes, you sir. That’s rather finely done, is it your own work?”
The young man in question looked non-plussed. “Uh… yes?”
“Splendid! I like the sentiment – I don’t suppose you take commissions? I don’t have a local comm code for you, but if I could take yours…”
“Don’t give it to ‘im, they’ll be having the pigs around!” a young woman warned.
Ethan gave her a bemused look. “Why would I do that, young lady? No, you see we’ve only recently reformed the division so we’re in need of making a divisional banner. Not something to take lightly, but this is Helen after all. Renowned for its artists.”
“You’re a soldier. What do you care for art?”
“Soldiers are people too, and while some say war is an artform in its own way, very few veterans enjoy the thought of going to war again. We know its price too well.” He looked back to the placard bearer. “I’ve come to Helen in peace. I’d like to leave it in peace when the time comes to go.”
After a moment’s hesitation the young artist handed the placard off for a moment and scribbled a number down on a notepad. Pressing through the crowd he handed it across the fence.
Ethan took it, noted the name and number, then put it away securely in his wallet. “Thank you, sir. I’ll be in touch in a couple of days.”
He stepped back and addressed the crowd. “And again, thank you all for coming out here. I’m sure the Ninth Division will never forget the warm welcome we’ve had here on Helen.”
Graham gave him an amused look as he returned to the group. “Are you bucking for a job with the Department of Social Relations?”
“There’s nothing wrong with being friendly,” Ethan pointed out.
“I wouldn’t have said that many people on Helen are friendly towards my regiment.”
“Have you considered a fresh approach?”
The other soldier shrugged. “Possibly. The fact is though, Helen’s never going to go quite back to what it was before all the refugees arrived. They’re stretching everything.”
“Nothing ever goes back to what it was, that’s called growing,” Ethan told him positively. They entered the terminal building and he saw two statues framing the passage that led through the customs area. Both were more than life size, men wearing archaic knightly armour from long ago on Earth. Long lances rose from their hands, forming an arch above those entering the passage. There were no names on the plinths, but it was impossible to mistake the face of Aleksandr Kerensky – the artist had captured the former commanding-general’s face and expression perfectly, just as Ethan remembered it from New Earth back before the Terran landings.
The opposite statue had John Davion’s darkly handsome features and where Kerensky’s shield bore the unadorned Cameron Star, the other shield laid it upon a sunburst.
“The First Prince was in command of the SLDF forces in the Hegemony when Helen was liberated,” Graham advised quietly. “There’s been a motion before the governor to remove it but…”
“Mmm.” Ethan wasn’t sure what to say. He could see both sides of the equation: on the one hand, the prince was a rebel now. But he’d been an SLDF General, and his realm had been the foundation of support for the SLDF when no one else would. “Both men are still alive,” he said as they walked beneath the crossed lances. “Who knows what their legacy will be in the end?”
.o0O0o.
Loch Rivenval, New Avalon
Crucis March, Federated Suns
11 October 2777
A modest historical monument marked where John and Hanse’s distant ancestor Adam Davion had brought civil war to an end in 2253. Born on Terra, Adam had grown up on New Avalon in the tumultuous years of rebellion, independence and the struggle for identity. He’d laid the foundations for the family fortune that would one day propel his grandson to leadership not only of New Avalon but also the Federated Suns.
For all its historical significance, the monument was in a sleepy mountain town overlooking a rather modest lake. Neither of the two on the bench could recall when their family had obtained a comfortable house in the town to use as a retreat, but whoever had been responsible the Davion family rarely gave up property once they acquired it.
Edwina had demanded a quiet holiday, time for John to rest after the excitements of the past year, so Joshua had been left to handle all official duties of the First Prince while his parents escaped the capital. Right now, visiting a barely remembered memorial gave the First Prince some rare privacy – the security perimeter was quite wide and no one from Loch Rivenval seemed minded to visit the little garden around the cenotaph today.
“Do you think they’ll stop now?” John asked his companion. “They’ve paid a heavy cost for their ambitions.”
“It’s alright to hope,” counselled Hanse. “But be realistic. Minoru Kurita appears to have lost his son – unless he’s covering up Jinjiro’s return so he doesn’t have to punish him – so he’ll be eager to return. And Barbara Liao only pulled troops back from Kathil so she can consolidate her gains and try to retake Tikonov.”
“Yes,” the prince admitted. “That’s my own thinking. It’s easier to start a war than it is to stop one.”
“If you want to play that game, they’re the ones that started this.”
“I know. The question then, is what the SLDF will do.”
Hanse grinned. “Lucas’ remaining armies or DeChevilier’s little band?”
Shaking his head at his descendant’s inappropriate sense of humour, John adjusted the scarf around his neck. “Both, now that you mention it.”
“Madame DeChevilier is playing her cards close to her chest, but there’s some mention of a pentagon. In my own history Kerensky led the Exodus of the SLDF to a cluster of five worlds deep in the Periphery. Due to the positioning of those stars, the cluster was collectively referred to as the Pentagon. Possibly it’s a coincidence, but if Kerensky had those worlds in mind from the start then it’s possible the SLDF has their location and that’s where she’s taking them.”
“And where were those worlds?”
“I don’t have any navigational data and it’s a much larger haystack than the one we found Tortuga in, but based on their logistics when they returned, about a thousand light years corewards of the Inner Sphere.”
John grunted. “Well, if that’s the plan then we likely won’t hear from them again for a while.”
“And it would be nice if their descendants returned in peace.” General Baptiste had convinced more than half of Fourth and Sixth Armies to follow her in supporting the DeChevilier’s planned exodus, the bulk of twenty-five divisions with twenty-nine warships to escort their transports. Hundreds of thousands of refugees from the Hegemony, mostly men and women who’d not yet found places in the Suns, had joined the armada, scraping together funding for jumpships and dropships to carry them, not to mention mountains of supplies.
The thought that they might be allowing the seeds of something like the Clans to arise sent a shiver down John’s back. On the other hand, they’d apparently been the brainstorm of Nicholas Kerensky and that thirteen-year-old wasn’t going with DeChevilier, he was on Apollo with his parents and brother.
“Lucas hasn’t been dismissed, which I’d thought he would be.”
“Not being dismissed doesn’t mean he has real authority left,” pointed out Hanse. “The Council taking over direct funding of the SLDF armies in their states mean that half the remaining SLDF units are functionally mercenaries under their command. I don’t know how long that’ll last or what’ll happen once it becomes obvious, but between that and the influence Kerensky has over Eleventh Army, Lucas is only really in charge of the armies in the Hegemony – since Cameron can’t afford to directly fund them yet.”
That got a nod from John. There were three armies still based in the Terran Hegemony and its tax base was still recovering. “I’m surprised the other lords are still willing to send money to support the Seventh, Eighth and Twelfth, since they might fall into Cameron’s hands. Kurita and Liao might want them for the sake of throwing them at us – and we’ll really need to fight them this time – but Kenyon Marik and Robert Steiner are another matter.”
“Given what Reznick said about the way troops are still quitting service they might just want to avoid looking like pikers compared to the other lords. Cutting funding could affect their recruiting activities. Or maybe it’s public pressure – right now the veneer of forcing us back into the Star League is about all they have still tying them together.”
“But it’s just a veneer,” John said sadly. “They can’t even unite against an outside threat.”
Hanse shook his head. “Not if the reports of raiders are to be believed and I think that MilInt’s sources are right. They’re probing each other’s defences, looking for weaknesses. What does that make it, four Hidden Wars?”
“It’s not funny, Hanse.”
“Black humour seems like the only rational reaction to me.” The ghost spread his gloved hands – he was, for whatever reason, dressed to match the weather in a battered AFFS field jacket over a sweater and bloused pants. “It might be best if you made sure there were weaknesses to find.”
“You’re talking about Operation Oxbow. That’s likely to draw retaliation.”
“I’m fairly sure the damage to Kathil means we’re already at the point where they’re trying to destroy our military industries, John. The Combine’s losses and Admiral Belleau’s defection might mean we’re on a relatively level playing field with their navy and the Capellans, but the Star League Navy is still by far the most powerful fleet in the Inner Sphere.”
“Then can we afford to divert the units for Oxbow? We could lose both carrier groups and even if we don’t, they’ll be committed for months.”
“Can we afford not to? Even if the ships were positioned to face the next wave of attacks they might not be enough to turn the tide. But if they manage even partial success, even losing every ship committed, then we’d be looking at forcing them to divert ships to cover against similar attacks. Potentially we could take both house fleets off at the ankles, crippling their operations in the long term. Robert Steiner might be inclined to sit back and laugh but if Kenyon Marik sees weakness then I think he’ll act on it.”
“It won’t be the knockout punch you’re suggesting,” John disagreed.
“I didn’t say knockout – there’s really no chance of that given this scale – but it doesn’t have to be. Just put them off balance.”
“And I suppose the logical next step is the Hegemony. Finish what Amaris started and smash their infrastructure before it recovers.”
Hanse frowned. “Militarily, yes. But politically I’d say no. When things come apart, the Hegemony will be in desperate need of allies and we’re the only likely candidate so there’s something to be said for not poisoning the well. Their recovering yards will be early targets so there’s no need for us to expend resources attacking them.”
“Then we’ll need to commit the bulk of our forces against the SLDF this time, hope the Marches can hold on and try to pin them down until – unless – the Star League finishes collapsing.”
“Along with giving that process a push whenever we can, yes.”
John put his hands together as if in prayer and lowered his head until his brow almost reached his finger-tips. “When we first met, I never thought things would go this way.”
-
Unity City, Terra
Alliance Core, Terran Hegemony
15 October 2777
Jack Lucas had never doubted the existence of the divine, but the last year had led him to believe the infernal was all too active. The footage he was watching only gave that feeling new weight.
The Director-General had been making one of his periodic public appearances – exiting his ground car a few hundred yards from his residence in Geneva and walking the rest of the way, shaking hands with members of the public gathered outside. Since many of them were demonstrators, often critics of Keith Cameron’s policies, the practise always put his security personnel on edge.
On the display, Lucas saw one of the dark-suited men stood next to the Director-General stiffen, one hand going to an earpiece and the other to his concealed sidearm. Unsure of what was wrong, the rest of the security detail turned their gazes outwards for a critical moment…
And Director-General Keith Cameron died – likely instantly – as the security man fired twice into his head, spraying blood and brain matter into the crowd.
The third shot, fired as his colleagues responded by throwing themselves at the traitor and their charge, was up through the gunman’s own jaw.
No declaration of purpose, no warning. Someone who’d passed every conceivable security check had committed a murder-suicide that decapitated the Terran Hegemony without even the decency of an explanation.
“No answers, only questions,” he said.
The white-haired statesman sat opposite him shrugged heavily. “There are answers, General Lucas. Just conflicting answers and no evidence to shed light on which might be the truth.”
“I suppose you’re right,” the general admitted. “Which leaves us back where we started – who rules now?”
Jens Pinera sighed. “I don’t suppose that Helen Cameron confided her whereabouts to the SLDF? Your aide was on her staff.”
“Not that I’m aware of.” Lucas looked over to where Elizabeth Hazen sat at her desk in the corner of the room. “Colonel? Do you have any ideas?”
Hazen shook her head. “I don’t know anything definite, sir. I wouldn’t be surprised if she’d gone to ground in the Federated Suns, but that could be a red herring.”
“Would she return now that her cousin is dead?” asked Pinera. “Without a Cameron to take the helm…”
“Honestly, sir, in her shoes would you want anything to do with leading the Hegemony?”
The politician sighed. “Touché. I turned down the idea of being any candidacy of my own after the liberation. I’ve no idea who the Hegemony Congress will turn to now.”
“Even if she did return, some people would suspect she was behind the assassination. If Douglas -” The security officer’s name had been Angus Douglas. “- had had even the slightest personal motive then he wouldn’t have been on Cameron’s detail in the first place.” Lucas rested his elbows on the desk. “Which tends to suggest he was a deep cover agent for someone – an agent so fanatical he was willing to die in order to kill the Director-General.”
“Some people will point at John Davion. We are at war, after all.”
“Hard to rule him out,” agreed Lucas. “But why now? Douglas must have had other opportunities.”
“If it affects Hegemony funding for the SLDF, it could buy Davion time before you can press a new invasion of his territory,” suggested Pinard.
“If the Hegemony collapses again then it would be a problem,” Lucas admitted, “But Cameron was by far the most lukewarm about the war effort. This would almost certainly radicalise the issue, with Davion being blamed.”
“Be careful, general,” warned Pinard with a sad smile. “If that were the goal then the people who you answer to might benefit the most from the Director-General’s death.”
The point was real, Lucas conceded. Any of the four intelligence services of the other Council Lords might have had the resources to set this up. “Or we could be dealing with some long-term Amaris loyalist plot,” he added. “Although the timing doesn’t really support that.”
“Whoever did it, right now we have a power vacuum in Brussels and sooner or later, someone is -”
The intercom on Hazen’s desk rang and cut off Pinera’s warning. Both men turned to look as she picked up the handset. Lucas’s staff wouldn’t have allowed a non-urgent call to come through. She listened and then looked over to Lucas. “Sir, I have General McEvedy on the line.”
The two men exchanged looks. James McEvedy, once of the 331st Royal BattleMech Division was Commanding General of the Hegemony Armed Forces. “Put him on the speakers, Colonel.” Lucas waited for Hazen to enter the command before continuing: “General McEvedy. What can I do for you?”
“Good to speak to you as well, General Lucas. What I’m hoping from you is nothing.”
“Nothing?”
“Exactly.” McEvedy’s voice was dry. “I suspect that the Council will be looking at the possibility of using the SLDF to take direct control of the Terran Hegemony away from the elected government, given Lord Cameron’s death. I’d very much prefer that you didn’t do that.”
“I do have to follow lawful commands,” Lucas replied slowly. “On the other hand, intervening in a member-states’ government would be almost unprecedented.”
“Almost, yes. But that didn’t stop Kerensky from taking out Amaris, whatever the Council did or didn’t say. I’d like your commitment that you’re not going to do anything precipitous.”
Lucas drummed his fingers on the desk. “On whose behalf are you speaking, General?”
“On behalf of the Terran Hegemony’s government.”
Pinera cleared his throat. “Wouldn’t such a message usually come from the President of the Congress?”
“President Goodman will be making an announcement shortly, and at the moment he’s dealing with the Congress.” McEvedy sounded brisk. “And who am I speaking to?”
“This is Jens Pinera. What’s Goodman going to announce?”
“Ah, of course. Well, Mr Pinera, assuming that Congress agrees – which I think is likely – then he’ll be swearing in an interim Director-General.”
“And who might that be?” asked Lucas.
“You’re speaking to him,” McEvedy informed him. “Someone has to protect the Hegemony, and who better than the Hegemony’s armed forces?”
“I shall hope that that stabilises the situation,” Lucas observed. He and Pinera had clearly had the same thought. Now there was another name to add to the list of suspects when it came to responsibility for Keith Cameron’s execution.
But what could they do?
“Are you declaring martial law?” he asked.
“Martial law is in effect around Brussels,” McEvedy advised. “We have just had an assassination, after all. I hope it won’t be necessary above the local level.”
“It would be unfortunate to give the impression of a coup,” agreed Lucas shortly. “Very well, General. Unless there is a clear need for intervention, I won’t order any SLDF action on this matter. Whether the Council agrees is outside of my hands.”
.o0O0o.
Imperial City, Luthien
Pesht District, Draconis Combine
3 November 2777
“Zabu, my son.” Minoru Kurita recalled another time sat in this garden, when Jinjiro had been away at Sun Zhang Academy and Takiro had called his other grandson before him to put the youth’s wits to the test.
Now Takiro’s ashes were enshrined along with those of his ancestors and the court made offerings before his monument. Jinjiro was missing, most likely forever. And the child had grown into a fine young man.
“Do you recall your grandfather summoning you here?” he asked his son. “He posed a question to you about Davion’s yards at Galax.”
Zabu considered for a moment. “I think that I do. He must have liked my answer because I was given a treat in the kitchens afterwards. Something about a hidden shipyard.”
“Yes, that was the time. It seems you were correct. John Davion must have another shipyard that can build warships. There’s no other explanation for the number of destroyers he’s reported to have in service.”
“We know he’s been building aerospace fighter carriers at Delavan,” Zabu noted. “That leaves two other shipyards that we know about.”
“Two more than we have, although not so large as our yards at Chatham. But those yards have for the most part served SLDF or carried out maintenance and upgrades on his fleet. The three ships built there wouldn’t even replace the destroyers lost at Al Na’ir or defending convoys against Rim Worlds raiders.”
The younger Kurita brought up the numbers. “With three new ships, there should be twenty-one of his upgraded Davion-class destroyers and one survivor of the obsolete first-generation ships of the class.”
“And yet when we count the ships escorting his carriers and battlecruisers, there are at least twenty-eight such destroyers. Fourteen distinct carrier groups have been sighted, each with a pair of destroyers escorting them, and we know he has at least four more carriers, two or three of the fast New Syrtis class ships and two based on the hulls Kerensky offered him.”
“Somewhere in the depths of the Crucis March,” Zabu recalled. “That is where I guessed the yards might be.”
“Indeed. The ISF’s analysis suggested an uninhabited system somewhere in the Point Barrow region, close to the factories and supply bases Davion built for the SLDF… or so he claimed. Truthfully, he built this against the situation he now stands in. A very far sighted man.”
“I don’t believe that was where I suggested,” the younger man said slowly. “I was very young, of course, but I thought that the area where the AFFS was carrying out exercises was likely, which is further out and closer to Taurian space is it not? I was not privy to military information at the time.”
Minoru nodded. “Your memory is good. Since the ISF has not found the yards following their own logic I have set them to follow up on yours. In the meantime, we must rebuild our own forces, part of which I defer to you.”
“I am honoured sire, though if you intend the warship matter I have only the most general expertise.”
The Coordinator made a dismissive gesture. “No, I merely raised that as a starting point for discussion. We have no time for a hidden yard of our own or for a refit programme akin to Davions, but I have ordered that production of our own carriers and destroyers be increased as rapidly as possible – doubled, if it can be done. Davion’s New Syrtis-class of carriers are weighty beasts in comparison to our Samarkands, so they must be slower to build. And our Narukamis can out-manoeuvre their Davion-class of destroyers.”
“But never an aerospace fighter.”
“No, but our best defence there is our own fighters and attack dropships. Increased production of the Achilles ships will help with such scenarios.” He shook his head. “So my advisors claim, at least. We will see. In the meantime, what I expect of you is to address the swords of the Myoo.”
Zabu bowed in understanding. The flaming swords of those Buddhist deities were also the emblem of the Sword of Light regiments. “Two of the pillars have fallen,” he conceded.
“Yes, symbolising weakness in our government and our military. Had they been victorious, it would have been a great boon to the spirits of our people. As it stands there is uncertainty. I therefore entrust this matter to the future of the Combine.”
The two Kuritas sat in silence, Minoru watching his son think. The selection process for the Sword of Light was strict – usually soldiers must have five years’ service in a first-class regiment even to be considered. But many of those regiments had been wiped out either over Robinson or as Davion counter-attacks descended on worlds that had been claimed for the Combine.
“You are positioning the SLDF to guard our frontier,” Zabu said at last. “That being the case we have secure footing. I should go first to Rasalhague.”
Minoru nodded sagely. The five brigades of district Regulars were the obvious first place to look for candidates to serve in the Sword of Light, they’d long been the backbone of the DCMS. And the regiments of Rasalhague were the least damaged by the campaigns against the Federated Suns. “The SLDF has not yet accepted the new order of things but General Nakazono is more biddable than he was when first appointed to serve within the Combine. He has responded favourably to suggestions that his regiments be stationed along our supply lines to ease the logistics of providing for their needs.”
“And can we be sure that this is not a dagger to those supply lines?” enquired his son directly. “The Fifteenth has served here before and they know our ways.”
“We also know theirs. A corps of liaison officers has been appointed to smooth over frictions and also to ensure we have eyes within their units. Detailed profiles on their officers have been compiled to determine who may be usefully advanced and who may be better retired.”
The means of arranging that retirement wasn’t a topic of conversation for today. In practical terms, direct action was something of a last resort – something that sparked suspicion and resentment. Compared to that, generous retirement packages and the prospect of land-grants in the outer rim of the Combine would probably serve well and in a generation or two, the officer’s families would likely assimilate and provide a samurai to the Combine.
It was wise to govern in the long view. Very few short-term crises could threaten the unity of the Combine.
“I am surprised at the cohesion of the SLDF under the circumstances,” confessed Zabu. “Their leaders have deserted them; their closest ally has outright rebelled against the order he once supported. I could not imagine the Combine falling into such array, but still the soldiers cling to the banner of the SLDF.”
“There is much to admire in their stoicism, but it is also wise to remember that they know nothing else. If Barbara Liao had not been turned… well, it is merely hypothetical now to imagine how matters might have stood. Cameron might well have survived.”
“McEvedy is a soldier, as Lord Cameron was not.”
“Yes, but he is limited in his foresight. If the Star League elects a new First Lord it will not be he.”
“If?” his heir asked pointedly.
Minoru nodded, looking out at the trees. “Davion is largely correct that the Star League is rotten. It could survive, with strong leadership, but the High Council will not permit strong leadership and so we must assume that the current war is just a foretaste.”
“I see.” Zabu’s eyes lost focus and then he nodded. “The Hegemony will be a target and will struggle to defend its worlds. That leaves the Federated Suns as the larger threat. If we can break their power now then we can focus our attention on the Lyran Commonwealth, possibly in alliance with Kerensky.”
“Would Kerensky participate in such a civil war?” Minoru asked rhetorically.
“Robert Steiner might give him no choice,” his son pointed out astutely. “And the Protector is old with a very young heir.”
“Indeed. Seize Tamar and Skye, let Kerensky and his heir take Donegal and forge an alliance with their house. Subsume the Kerenskys and the Combine would stretch across half of the Inner Sphere. But all of this depends first upon humbling House Davion and then upon ensuring Terra, Capella and the Free Worlds League are absorbed in battling each other.”
Zabu bowed. “A powerful vision of the future.”
“Now, you have a voyage to arrange.” Minoru gestured and silent servants brought forth cups and bottles. “Let us drink to an easy journey and to a strong birth for the Eighth and Ninth Sword of Light regiments.”
-
Excellent updates as always, the Combine's having to look at other options, and it seems that Jinjiro's ship suffered a misjump. But if he's not...and then he shows up and finds he's been replaced. Well...he gonna be pissed!
As always, excellent writing and story telling!
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I'm pretty sure it was made clear before that Jinjiro's ship hadn't survived.
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Excellent updates as always, the Combine's having to look at other options, and it seems that Jinjiro's ship suffered a misjump. But if he's not...and then he shows up and finds he's been replaced. Well...he gonna be pissed!
As always, excellent writing and story telling!
Kurita versus Kurita?
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Kurita versus Kurita?
The rest of the story is about Jinjiro showing up as a ghost to advise his ancestor in the mid-25th century. :D
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Kurita versus Kurita?
Its a distinct possibility, Jinjiro's ego and honour would be hugely insulted to have been so easily cast aside.
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FSS Basantapur, New Hessen
Tikonov Commonality, Capellan Confederation
14 December 2777
A few years ago and a mere Rear Admiral wouldn’t have been granted command of a flotilla including a capital ship. Things had changed though and one of the three bands on the uniform epaulette of the little blonde at the centre of FSS Basantapur’s flag bridge was narrower than the other two, signifying that she’d only reached the first and lowest of the flag ranks.
If it hadn’t been the demands of maintaining morale she might also have worn a worried expression. “Two squadrons and they have carriers of their own? Not very sporting of them.”
There were some half-hearted laughs from those who’d met Admiral Jones and recognised that Weiss Plains was emulating her mentor’s sang-froid. It didn’t change the fact that they’d been caught slowing to enter orbit of New Hessen and the two reconnaissance squadrons closing in on them were already moving fast enough that the Basantapur and her escorts couldn’t avoid being intercepted by at least one of the two.
Unless, of course, they managed to wipe one out but that might be a touch optimistic.
There were eighteen ships in each of the enemy squadrons and they were all fast ships. Destroyers, corvettes and light carriers that collectively meant that each force had almost double the fighter strength of Plains’ own ships.
“I don’t think we’ll be able to escort the Syrtis Fusiliers away so you’d better tell them to plan on going to ground,” she instructed her communications officer. “Or whatever the army solution is for being prevented from retreating off world is. Most likely there’s a considerable ground complement coming in behind this lot.”
Unless the Twelfth Syrtis Fusiliers had quite exceptional leadership that could mean death or surrender but whichever it was lay outside of her hands now.
Plains tapped the tactical chart. “Change of course as so,” she directed. “Avoiding action isn’t feasible so we’ll engage the second force. It might be possible to break past them without too many of the fighters from the other squadron joining forces.”
Lines twisted across the chart as all three forces pushed their engines to the limits. Plains and her crews were pressed into the seats by the acceleration, weighed down by three times their normal weight. It was almost impossible for flight crews to prep fighters under such sustained thrust but the systems had been over-engineered for just such a situation, moving fuel and ammunition where humans struggled to lift themselves out of their seats.
Fighters surged from the first group of SLDF ships – light and medium fighters that must be struggling under missile loads from their sluggish acceleration. The second group held theirs back, waiting for Plains to commit. With numbers against her, she restrained the impulse. The aerospace wings might have only one chance so it must be made to count.
The line marking the second SLDF squadron’s course would intersect their own before long. Sensors searched and probed for weaknesses. The force was made up of three divisions of six ships. The outer screen was Vincent-class corvettes, no huge threat to the Basantapur but capable of hurting her escorts, the destroyers Cynthia Varnay-Davion and Veronique Duvall-Davion. Behind them were six Whirlwinds, SLDF refits of ancient Davion-class ships sold to them centuries ago, ship for ship credible threats to Plains’ little group. And then at the rear were the carriers: four Samarkand-class ships built by the Combine and two Riga II destroyer-carriers – among the most advanced ships in the Star League Navy, befitting their normal role as escorts to rapid-reaction forces.
After years of co-operation the electronic signatures of the Star League’s ships were well known to the Federated Suns Navy. Not only the classes but also the names of the ships along with their last known commanders.
A muted explanation drew Plains’ attention to a junior leftenant of her intelligence staff. “Is there a concern, Kate?”
The young woman pointed at one of the Vincent-class ships. “SLS Caerleon, ma’am. Before… before the war broke out, my brother was on her crew.”
“I see. Let us hope that Liao demanded that SLDF personnel from the Suns were reassigned elsewhere.” If there had been such a policy decision, it would have been the first Plains had heard of it.
She judged the distances. “Prepare for fighter launches. Arm forty Centurions with Alamos and brief them to go after the destroyers. We’ll need the rest of the Centurions to act as interceptors. And lock down the ships for sudden changes of course.”
The catapults began to hurl Plains’ aerospace fighters out into space. Combined with the fighters from the destroyers, over two hundred pilots were taking flight and just getting all of them off the ships was an exercise in logistics.
“All fighters away, forming up wings and squadrons.”
The short admiral nodded. “Excellent work, airboss. I think that’s a new group record for clearing the decks, I command your deck crews.”
“Thank you, sir.”
“You’re clear to engage the enemy. Don’t worry about holding back a patrol for the ships.”
Commodore Baracus turned from his console and scowled at her for a moment. She nodded at her hulking Tancredi-born flight operations officer. “I understand it’s unusual not to guard the carrier but we’re past that point now.”
“The fighters from group one would have an opportunity to engage the Basantapur unprotected while we’re engaging, ma’am.”
Plains steepled her fingers. “I’m aware that we have some excellent pilots, Commodore, but with over two hundred enemy fighters in that strike, holding a couple of dozen of ours back probably won’t slow them enough to change that outcome. We’re going for their throats with everything we have.” She smiled slyly. “And not quite unprotected. We do have some very frustrated gun crews aboard. Let them have some fun.”
Baracus nodded slowly and returned his attention to the aerospace control console.
Force two was swarming their fighters now as they adjusted their battle formation. Perhaps they expected Plains to keep her fighters back in defence where they could be supported by the two destroyers and by Basantapur’s own guns. That would let the SLDF hold back a fighter screen while still outnumbering the Federated Suns fighters two or three to one, though.
Instead the Centurions, Tomahawks and a mix of Hammerhead and Vulcan heavy fighters lunged towards the Star League squadron, fusion turbines bright against the blackness of space. SLDF pilots threw themselves forward to meet them and the tactical display broke the formations down into arrow-head formations as individual squadrons began to manoeuvre.
The initial fast pass of fighters filled the sky with fire as they met nose to nose, twisting and turning as they tried to engage their preferred targets. Plains saw orange damage markers flare around the Hammerhead and Vulcan wings as the SLDF’s heavy fighters tried to cripple their counterparts before they could make use of their powerful weapons. Sabers, Spads, and Zeros went after the Centurions while the medium ranks were a howling mess as Tomahawk variants from both sides engaged furiously.
SLDF fighters were taking damage too and just as with Plains’ fighters some icons were simply blanking as the murderous fire took its toll. The meeting engagement broke up into a sprawling dog-fight as fighters twisted, trying to get out of enemy cones of fire and bring their own weapons to bear.
Unlike their opponents, the Federated Suns Navy’s fighters weren’t focusing on their counterparts. Vulcan heavy fighters shifted to cover their smaller comrades, punishing the lighter SLDF fighters that tried to close in on less well armoured prey. Paired gauss rifles smashed armour and the systems beneath it.
As Ironsides and Gothas of the SLDF heavy squadrons darted around to engage the Vulcans flanks and rear, they found their own flanks harassed by Tomahawk II fighters with their long-range lasers and Hammerhead fighters twisted and tumbled, massive autocannon snarling with brutal threat against the SLDF.
More than sixty fighters were blown out of the sky in the first desperate moments and for now the losses were roughly even. Plains could only hope that that would remain true as she had to refocus on the inbound SLDF fighters from the first force.
Fifty-four Spads broke away from the attack force, jettisoning their onboard ordnance to join in the dog-fight. Almost a quarter of the entire attack force, but that still left the Hellcat II and Tomahawk squadrons, along with another fifty-four Zeros and eighteen Rogues to give them cover.
“Shake it up,” Plains snapped and gripped her shock-frame. The Basantapur and her escorts were already operating at maximum thrust away from the inbound fighter strikes but now they began firing their manoeuvring thrusters, shifting their orientations back and forth to confuse targeting solutions and opening up the inbound formations to occasional broadside shots.
Doing this also slowed the acceleration though and FSS Cynthia Varnay-Davion, who had maneuvered the hardest, dropped behind slightly. It made her the first target for the SLDF fighters and thirty-six Tomahawks rolled into an attack run, the Rogues flanking them.
After autocannon turrets snarled – any hit would obliterate a fighter but they weren’t designed for such shots and none of the SLDF fighters was harmed. But they weren’t the bulk of the destroyer’s anti-fighter weapons. Blocky missile launchers elevated and LRM salvos reached out, warheads detonating against the inbound fighters.
Seven SLDF fighters broke off, trailing debris as they retreated. Three others were broken wrecks unable to escape.
Then the attack force reached maximum effective range of the laser mounts. One more fighter died and two others broke away. That still left more than forty and they were close enough now for their Alamos. The fighters spawned new icons on the tactical display and nuclear missiles streaked in upon the Cynthia.
The destroyer kept firing on the fighters until the very last minute. There was a chance, always a chance…
Fourteen missiles detonated against the thick hull of FSS Cynthia Varnay-Davion… and two inside. The detonations carved the ship into three separate sections and the interior must have been blasted by superheated air from the crew-decks and hydrogen from the fuel tanks. There had been no time for escape pods or lifeboats to launch.
Almost three hundred men and women died in an instant. The only survivors were the twenty pilots who’d launched earlier – and who knew how many of them were alive – and the four shuttles that had detached earlier with the destroyer’s marines. If they could avoid notice then they might be able to make planetfall and join up with the Fusiliers.
Plains didn’t think she could speak clearly enough under the brutal impact of the manoeuvring to give orders so she instead pressed a single button, signalling the captains of both the Basantapur and the Veronique Duvall-Davion.
The sudden destruction seemed to have focused the attention of the SLDF on the dying destroyer. The last thing they must have expected was for the Basantapur and the Veronique to reverse course and begin to slow their velocity – which in relative terms sent them charging directly into the teeth of the inbound SLDF fighters.
Neither ship wasted time on fighters that had already fired their missiles. What mattered were the Zeros, the Hellcat IIs and the Tomahawks that might still be taken out before they had the chance.
Baracus shouted in triumph. “Fourteen of our fighters got through the enemy screen. Two destroyers killed, two others heavily damaged!”
A better performance than the SLDF had managed, but then again perhaps it was the first fourteen that took out the Cynthia, Plains thought.
No uninformed observer looking at FSS Basantapur would have guessed she was an aerospace fighter carrier. Her flanks were alive with lasers, missiles and autocannon fire. The flash of her forward particle beams scored a rare hit on an aerospace fighter – it was impossible to tell what the fighter had been after the beams ravaged it.
“Enemy missile launches!”
They’d killed thirty more fighters, Plains guessed. But that wasn’t enough.
Additional turrets opened up. The Davion-class ships didn’t have the anti-missile systems built into a New Syrtis-class ship. It wasn’t clear if the little turrets would be effective against heavy missiles and, so far, it had only been convenient to fit them onto the carriers in place of older weapon mounts that were confirmed as ineffectual.
The answer, Weiss Plains noted, was that they were effective… to an extent. Just not enough.
FSS Veronique Duvall-Davion died, thousands of tons of ruptured armour and system flung away from her broken hull. The bow somehow survived, almost intact, and two escape pods – out of sixty mounted on the ship – rocketed away.
The death of the destroyer spared the Basantapur though – the debris smashed across the path of a dozen inbound torpedoes, blotting them out. In the end only five warheads struck the mighty ship, carving deep craters in her ferro carbide hull… but none of them penetrated.
The SLDF fighters scattered, trying to claw their way out of range as the wounded carrier continued to fire on them. None of them could engage using their internal weapons without entering the reach of Basantapur’s missile launchers, and those that tried paid the price.
“Captain, bring us around towards Force Two,” Plains ordered sharply. “I suggest you have all non-essential personnel take to the lifeboats.”
“Does that include a Rear-Admiral, ma’am?”
“The chain of command constitutes essential personnel.” She rubbed her face and looked over at Baracus. “Get the staff off the ship, Commodore.”
He hesitated and then saluted, chivvying men and women away from their positions on the flag bridge. “I’ll wipe the classified databases.”
“Thank you, Commodore.” Plains watched the depleted Star League fighters move to regroup with those of the second force. Even with the heavy losses taken by their own wing, the six carriers would struggle to refuel and re-arm all of the aerospace fighters.
That wouldn’t be problem for the Basantapur’s flight group. More than a hundred emergency locator beacons marked where pilots had ejected and would – hopefully – be recovered in time. There weren’t any markers to indicate active Federated Suns fighters.
Beneath Plains’ seat the deck shook. All four engines were at full power, driving the blunt-nosed ship towards the waiting SLDF.
Two Whirlwind-class destroyers had been destroyed and two more showed signs of damage. Not necessarily crippling, but they’d need yard time to be fully operational. With the struggle already faced to keep the Star League Navy maintained, that would almost be worse than destruction. The two damaged ships were falling back upon the carriers while the two unscathed Whirlwinds had moved forwards to join the Vincents.
“Our priority targets are the carriers. If possible, I want to catch them before they can get fighters out again.”
She could imagine the scenes aboard the Samarkand and Riga-class ships as engineers rushed to triage inbound fighters, getting the most fit to fight to the launch bays where they could be fuelled and rearmed. It wasn’t quick or easy at the best of times. But if they could assemble another wing with Alamos then it would all be over quickly.
Shuttles, escape pods and lifeboats fled from the Basantapur as the carrier bore down upon the enemy screening forces. At least there weren’t any dropships to worry about. Probably they’d brought transports with them to provide additional fuel and ammunition for the fighters – such ships wouldn’t have been able to keep up with this level of acceleration and were likely on the ground or somewhere else.
The SLDF could have avoided action – they weren’t any slower than the Basantapur and if they’d kept the range open then their fighters could have finished the battle. But that wasn’t their doctrine and the eight ships of the screen came around to engage with their forward guns.
Plains watched, a passenger on her own flagship. The Basantapur shook under the hammer blows of the autocannon on SLS Whirlwind and her sister ship SLS Tornado. But the big ship’s bow armour could take those hits, at least briefly, and the same could not be said of the destroyers. Forward launch bays buckled and two hanger decks were exposed to vacuum, but Tornado broke apart under the pounding of autocannon shells and particle beams.
The forward missile tubes of the carrier launched missiles the size of aerospace fighters, copies of SLDF Killer Whale anti-shipping missiles. Only one tube had bearing on the Whirlwind but both fired – the second missile lunged for a Vincent-class corvette on the Basantapur’s other flank.
SLS Caerleon vanished in a fireball as the heavy missile punched deep into its hull and detonated. Plains spared a moment to hope that Kate’s brother wasn’t aboard. They didn’t have the same good fortune when it came to the Whirlwind – the warhead went off on the nose, blowing one of the autocannon mounts apart but failing to penetrate deeper.
The Basantapur’s nose dropped, turning one broadside upon the remaining destroyer. Whirlwind’s railguns slammed high velocity projectiles into the bigger ship with no great effect even as the carrier’s bow guns reduced a second corvette to a limping wreck with a single pass.
Four heavy autocannon and a pair of particle beams smashed open the armour along the aged warship’s flank. At one time the SLS Whirlwind had been FSS Jerome Davion, built in the same shipyards that had later constructed some of Basantapur’s sister ships. Bow and stern tubes could be brought to bear now and before the SLDF captain could roll his ship to present fresh armour, a pair of Killer Whales crashed against the Whirlwind and there was no armour to keep them from penetrating.
Half a million tons of warship shattered like glass.
Now, at last, the SLDF carriers saw their peril and turned away, engines firing to hold the range open. Computers ran their calculations and Plains saw the unforgiving numbers. The four Samarkand IIs were outside effective range and unless they suffered an engine failure they’d stay that way. The pair of Riga II were just barely in range of Basantapur’s particle beams, able to return fire with their own lasers. One of the damaged Whirlwinds could maintain the same acceleration but lacked the long-range firepower in its rear arc to maintain fire. The other Whirlwind, SLS Twister, could not – and so the ship’s captain unflinchingly turned his battered destroyer to try to hold back the juggernaut pursuing.
Particle beams and lasers fired past the destroyer as it came in to engage. Damage to the Riga-class destroyer-carriers wasn’t to be passed up so only the heavy autocannon fired on the Twister.
The destroyer’s own autocannon remained fully active though and the Basantapur’s forward armour had been badly battered already. Shells tore through what remained of the forward decks, gutting empty hangers and crew quarters. Fuel lines ruptured and hydrogen met oxygen with familiar results, fires ranging through the front of the carrier.
But still she came on and a missile flashed out at the Twister. The smaller ship matched her name, trying to evade, and the missile went off against one of her remaining engines, laming her further. Up ahead, one of the Rigas began to slow, she’d similarly taken engine damage. No fighters yet, the flight crews must be struggling to reload their charges under the acceleration.
With shocking suddenness, the navigation bridge went dark on the Basantapur’s systems display. Plains brought up one of the external cameras and checked. An autocannon shell must have hit it directly for the tower had been blasted open. There was still the Combat Information Centre to continue directing the fight but it was one more wound.
The Basantapur was overhauling the Twister now and broadside guns opened up. In response the destroyer turned away - not in flight but to bring her short-ranged and brutally potent aft autocannon to bear. Both ships fired and Plains cried out as something broke in the deck beneath her. Her shockframe parted company with the deck and rolled across it as the Basantapur lurched. Consoles died and she was left without any outside view, just the stars that clouded her vision as the frame came to rest against the flight operations console.
The admiral tried to disengage the frame but it had twisted and the locks didn’t work. Undoing the straps, she blessed her small frame as she wiggled around, managing to work one shoulder around the restraints. Arm free she levered herself out and, gasping with the effort under three gravities of acceleration, climbed out.
One of the emergency lockers had sprung its latch under the impact and she pulled out a vac suit. Even the smallest standard size was long on the legs and arms, but it would do. Plains sealed herself into it, sitting on the deck to do so. When she pulled the hood down over her head and sealed it with the face-mask, she saw a thin imprint of blood on her glove.
When did that happen? she wondered.
Opening the hatch, she struggled out into the gangway outside. Most of the lights were out but some came from a hatch up ahead, the flag-decks main computer maintenance room if she recalled correctly. Clambering along the passageway she looked into the room and saw Commodore Baracus sprawled on the floor. How long had he been there?
The light came from the screen of the console which displayed a helpful progress bar. Classified data purge was complete, it declared cheerfully.
“Baracus! Baracus!” Plains grabbed the man’s shoulder. “Wake up. I can’t carry you.”
The big man was breathing, at least, but his head rolled limply.
Calculations of mass and energy required to move it came automatically to mind and the little admiral banished them from consideration. “If I can’t carry you, I’ll have to drag you,” she concluded out loud and caught hold of his shoulders.
Just pulling his more than a hundred kilograms of mass as far as the door felt like it had ruptured something inside Plains, although that might just be a sign she needed more regular exercise now that she wasn’t flying regularly. Her facemask was clouded by her perspiration.
Basantapur rocked again and she heard, as if from a great distance, the bosun’s whistle announcing a ship-wide announcement. “Abandon ship.” That should be a loud instruction, not a whisper, Plains thought. “All hands, abandon ship.”
The engines cut out, so suddenly that Plains left the deck, flailing in mid-air in the sudden micro-gravity. She rebounded off the roof and caught hold of Baracus. At least this made it easier to pull him – no more worrying about friction on the floor and once he was lifted he stayed lifted.
Pushing her burden before her and trying not to bump him against anything, Plains reached the end of the corridor. Several of the life boats had been launched already – the rest of the staff, hopefully.
At last she found one that remained ready for occupation. Pushing Baracus in, she snapped one of the harnesses onto him and went back to the hatch, checking for anyone else.
Seeing no one else, Rear Admiral Weiss Plains lifted the cover on the large red button near the hatch and pushed it. The hatch crashed shut and brief acceleration plastered her against it as the lifeboat was hurled away from its parent ship.
Through the small armour-glass window in the hatch, Plains saw the last ship of her little force, a tower of fire against the sky. Then the fires seemed to expand into bubbles of heat and radiation.
FSS Basantapur disintegrated, the lifeboat just one more in a billion fragments of debris left behind in the New Hessen system.
-
Dolsonville, Tancredi IV
Draconis March, Federated Suns
19 February 2778
“Did you arrange this with DeChevilier?”
Joshua had heard from his father about the way Simpson Avellar had cringed on Terra, when faced by Aleksander Kerensky. Clearly such behaviour was only the man’s habit when faced by someone he feared – and for whatever reason, he didn’t fear the heir to the Federated Suns.
“Do sit down,” he instructed firmly, gesturing to the seat opposite his at the negotiating table. “We’re as surprised as you are.”
Simpson didn’t look convinced, crossing the room and taking hold of the back of the seat. Leaning over it, he accused: “You supplied her, didn’t you?”
Pulling his own seat back, Joshua sat down. “Of course we did. It convinced more than twenty divisions of the SLDF to stop marching on New Avalon. But we had no idea her intention was to take those forces into the Outworlds Alliance.”
President Avellar’s reign hadn’t been peaceful so far, but the decision by five colony worlds – including a provincial capital – to secede from the Outworlds Alliance might possibly be the biggest crisis he’d had to face. Military action against the separatists would have been a hard sell to the pacifist members of the Executive Parliament but it became a practical impossibility when the newly declared Pentagon League had elected Cynthia DeChevilier as their first Captain-General, backed by her husband’s military might and the votes of roughly a quarter million refugees from the Terran Hegemony.
Without functioning HPG stations across much of the Outworlds Alliance, it had taken weeks for the news to get to the Alliance government on Alpheratz and there had only been limited exchanges between Avellar and DeChevilier in the time it took for Joshua to come out to Tancredi and take point on the Federated Suns’ diplomacy in the area.
“Our expectation was that the Captain-General was aiming for some remote SLDF stronghold in the deep periphery. The first we heard of her being on Wynn’s Roost was when our Ambassador on Alpheratz got called in by your nephew,” he continued.
The revelation had floored his father, something Joshua hadn’t seen in a while. The Amaris Coup had been worse news, but it hadn’t been as unexpected as this was.
“It’s very convenient for you though, divide us up before you conquer us.”
Joshua shook his head lightly. “We have more than enough on our plates with this coming up. We’re still fighting the Combine and the Confederation; and it’s only a matter of time before General Lucas mounts a new attack on us out of the Hegemony. The last thing we want is to be sucked into another conflict.”
Simpson pressed his lips together. “Because your father’s never meddled here before. But my nephew seems to believe it so I suppose I have to go along with this.”
“It must be a little ironic to be the one opposed to a separatist movement,” Joshua observed wryly.
The Outworlder flushed angrily. “It’s a very different situation.”
“Yes, the government you represent is at least willing to try to see if a peaceful solution can be found, which is more than the Star League Council did.”
Simpson didn’t seem to know what to make of that and grudgingly sat down. He looked over at the empty chair at the table. “So, where’s her representative?”
“I scheduled for them to arrive in another couple of minutes, to give us time to clear the air,” Joshua told him. “After all, your concerns about our involvement are fairly understandable.”
Simpson nodded curtly and they waited in silence until the door opened to admit the representative of the newly declared Pentagon League. Fatima Rafi wasn’t entirely unfamiliar to Joshua – she’d commanded a division in Fourth Army before the Periphery Uprising and had a staff position with General Baptiste later on. She looked different in civilian garb though.
“Lord Davion, Lord Avellar,” she greeted them both.
“Ms. Rafi.” Joshua rose and bowed politely, while Simpson just nodded grudgingly as the former SLDF officer took the vacant seat. She was from the Rim Worlds originally, the Davion heir remembered. One of those who’d left the Republic long before Amaris showed his colours, armed with burning ambition and equally inflamed hatred of the Rim Worlds’ president.
“Thank you both for coming,” he said as he sat down again. “Just to make my position clear, I’m only here as a moderator. Hopefully you can come to an agreement but you don’t need my consent for any terms and conditions. However, if I’m going to help then I need your commitment that you will accept my moderation. Are you both comfortable with that?”
Rafi nodded and Avellar grunted.
“Thank you. Now, ladies before gentlemen, so if you’d like to outline the situation as you understand it, Ms. Rafi, and then Lord Avellar will be at liberty to respond. We’re not in public so no filibustering or playing to the non-existent crowd please.”
The representative adjusted her chair but apparently decided against standing. “In short then, the five worlds of the Pentagon League, have been in discussion for some time about differences in priority between their own interests and those on Alpheratz since the failure of the Periphery Uprising -”
“Objection.”
Joshua arched an eyebrow. “This isn’t a courtroom, Lord Avellar. You’re perfectly free to counter Ms. Rafi’s points when it’s your turn to speak.”
Simpson scowled and scribbled a note on the pad in front of him.
Rafi shrugged. “In the interests of not being inflammatory, let us say the perceived failure of the Uprising then. The worlds in question hadn’t been a hotbed of support for the independence movement, largely because most of them are highly dependent on trade which the fighting disrupted. Added to this, a lot of the colonists were from the Terran Hegemony even before the current influx of refugees began.”
“Since the liberation of Terra, there’s been some discussion of whether the best solution would be peaceful secession from the Outworlds Alliance by the discontented worlds. Since they couldn’t rely on the Alliance Military Corps for security if that independence were to be granted, emissaries were sent to see if they could find troops who might be willing to provide those defences in exchange for land grants and the like.”
“Which is illegal under the Alliance constitution,” Simpson snapped and then paused. “My apologies for the interruption.”
“That is indeed one of the points on which the planetary governments disagree with your nephew’s administration,” Rafi continued, unruffled. “In any case, Captain-General DeChevilier’s arrival with a force rather larger than the entire AMC wasn’t quite what was anticipated, but it obviously made the entire matter feasible and the charter was agreed shortly before Christmas and communicated to Alpheratz. Representatives have been sent to nearby worlds to see if they’d like to join the League or if they prefer to remain part of the Alliance.”
John nodded. “I take it that that’s how matters stand now?”
“Only a few worlds have replied and we’ve had both positive and negative responses.” Rafi placed her hands on the table. “I yield the floor to Lord Avellar.”
Simpson looked at her for a moment. “There are constitutional avenues to try to change government policy, Ms. Rafi, up to and including changing the constitution itself. My nephew isn’t a particularly unreasonable man.”
She nodded. “If I may point out, while the Executive Parliament gives one vote to every ten worlds without regard to population – which has laudably prevented the older and more populated worlds around Alpheratz from dominating proceedings, they require a unanimous vote to approve a decision. While President Avellar has managed to secure a few policies that are favourable, I’m fairly sure that the Omniss block would unilaterally block the more industrial interests of the outer worlds.”
The Avellar grimaced. “I see. Obviously, a military solution has been suggested. While there’s a preponderance of force on your side, I have to wonder how long five fairly small colonies could support the army and the fleet that you’ve brought into the Alliance.”
“While the number of colonies in the Pentagon League is likely to grow – as I said, there have been some positive responses – in the long term we’d envisage placing at least half of the military hardware and supplies in storage and use it to cover the needs of replacing damaged and expended equipment that we can’t build at this point. While in theory we could import such material, there aren’t any convenient sources, with both the Federated Suns and the Draconis Combine absorbing all of their domestic manufacture at this time.”
Joshua cleared his throat. “Without naming worlds, may I ask how widespread these positive responses have been?”
“There are worlds in all three of the spinward provinces that are interested in joining the League, but there are also worlds in all three provinces that have declined,” Rafi replied calmly. “There’s been no real interest in the four anti-spinward provinces, which isn’t very surprising.”
“No,” agreed Avellar ruefully. Those were the heartlands of Omniss sentiments. “I assume that those worlds that are interested will be joining your League?”
“Subject to a planetary poll,” she informed him. “We don’t want to bring in worlds that aren’t going to be comfortable with membership so we’re asking for a sixty percent majority in favour before we confirm membership.”
“Would there be some scope for a compromise? Increased self-governance for the worlds that form the Pentagon League without complete secession?”
“I’m not empowered to make that decision, but in general the Captain-General and the League’s Senate are willing to consider any reasonable peaceful settlement of our differences with Alpheratz. Given we’re likely to be geographically entangled, we’d at least want to offer reciprocal transit rights and so forth – a stable Alliance is something that benefits us in the longer term.”
“More worlds you can peel away in the future, you mean?”
Rafis smiled thinly. “If worlds keep wanting to leave the Outworlds Alliance, that would indicate longer term problems for you internally. Most likely though, the Pentagon League would provide an escape valve for the parts of your population who do want a more industrialised lifestyle.”
This seems to be going well, Joshua thought. Nothing’s settled but at least they’re talking to each other. Hopefully I can wrap this up and get back to New Avalon before anything else goes wrong.
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This has definitely drifted from the previous outline... and I'm absolutely intrigued! I can't wait for more... :thumbsup:
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Wow, moving to the Outworlds Alliance and causing their own "little" secession crisis instead of heading to the Deep Periphery...I didn't think the DeCheviliers had it in them. :thumbsup:
A few things that I am interested in and that I hope to get some expansion on:
-Which five worlds of the Outworlds Alliance make up the new Pentagon League and which worlds are looking to join them?
-Why the move to the Pentagon League and not out to join Kerensky in the Rim? Concerns about bad-blood between SLDF elements and the Rim Worlds' populace, a desire to chart their own destiny, or perhaps delusions of grandeur (why be men when we can live as kings)?
-The action in space at New Hessen seems to be the first major defeat for the AFFS. Considering what they faced, what led them into that fight? Bad intel, arrogance, author fiat? Were they expecting Capellans instead of the SLDF Fleet elements?
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I would bet a big part of the Pentagon over RWA is simply that it's a lot less likely anyone is gonna come looking for a fight, whereas the poor bastards in the RWA are gonna need to spend a decade slapping Steiners hands every year
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talk about some hell of an updates on this story and wow for how things have gone for sure. Just got done catching up over not seeing what happened over the past couple of weeks and have to say I am blown away for what is going on in this story and have to say I love it and thank you for sharing.
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-Which five worlds of the Outworlds Alliance make up the new Pentagon League and which worlds are looking to join them?
Wynn's Roost, Vangburg, Zebeluraskai, Renorsal and Nerum
-Why the move to the Pentagon League and not out to join Kerensky in the Rim? Concerns about bad-blood between SLDF elements and the Rim Worlds' populace, a desire to chart their own destiny, or perhaps delusions of grandeur (why be men when we can live as kings)?
Because of the Federated Suns involvement against Amaris, the flow of refugees from the Hegemony was significantly one-sided and earlier, leading to a flow to the worlds of the OWA that had been predominantly colonised out of the Hegemony. Helena Cameron's time in the Federated Suns led to reinforcement of ties between refugee settlements and Cynthia DeChevilier got involved in these which got her husband involved.
Also, Baptiste's force can get to the OWA much more easily than the RWR. Some other groups of SLDF soldiers who wind up defecting will go for the RWR if opportunity allows.
-The action in space at New Hessen seems to be the first major defeat for the AFFS. Considering what they faced, what led them into that fight? Bad intel, arrogance, author fiat? Were they expecting Capellans instead of the SLDF Fleet elements?
Bad intel, they didn't pick up that a pair of SLN squadrons had moved into the system to cut off the invasion force and the SLN is pretty experienced so they managed to keep their presence unknown until it there was someone to intercept.
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Lycomb IntroTech, Demeter
Capellan March, Federated Suns
17 March 2778
“The site of our triumph!” Marshal Derek Quinn announced, gesturing to the factory complex. “The shame of Valexa and of Angelsey has at last been expunged.”
Baltazar Liao nodded insincerely. “I don’t suppose there’s any doubt who nuked this one,” he observed.
“The cowardly AFFS left a device as they pulled out. While our scouts couldn’t disarm it in time, there was enough warning to ensure combat units weren’t affected.”
The Chancellor’s son pursed his lips. “And as a result, we’ve captured an empty shell,” he noted. “A great deal of effort for a factory that’ll need to be completely rebuilt before it can resume production.”
“There remains the symbolic value,” the Marshal replied reprovingly. “Another Chesterton world has been liberated from Davion oppression.”
Baltazar raised an eyebrow. “I’m sure their celebration must be profound. He hadn’t noticed cheering crowds and confetti as he passed through towns on the way to this battle site. Someone had thrown dung at one of the ‘Mechs though, and – paranoid that it might have been a magnetic mine – the Victor pilot had fired his machineguns at the source.
Whether or not that had killed the source wasn’t clear but pacifying Demeter wasn’t likely to be quick or easy.
“We’re now only one step from liberating Chesterton itself,” Quinn declared.
“I can think of one or two other steps that might be required. The AFFS may have given up this location but they’re still holding out. And then there’s Tikonov.”
Quinn hesitated at the mention of his homeworld. “My nephew is vocal about where his priorities lie,” he said at last, “But I am sworn to the Confederation first and the Chancellor has made that a task for the SLDF forces.”
“Whether the troops are CCAF or SLDF, they still need supplies and we can only support one advance at this time.” The fifteen divisions of the SLDF’s Eighteenth Army had bolstered Capellan fighting power but also strained their logistics. Warehouses that had been expected to be enough to supply the regiments operating around Kathil for another twelve months now lay empty. Still, better that the supplies be used – the AFFS now only clung to one of the worlds they’d taken from the Confederation and that was well worth the price.
“I am sure that Celestial Wisdom will guide us to the correct path,” the Marshal answered piously. “Whether that is to free Chesterton or Tikonov, I will welcome her guidance. In the meantime, you are correct that fighting must continue here. Surely the Davion disregard for the nature preserves your ancestors established here must stir the hearts of Capellans to outrage.”
Baltazar restrained himself from snorting. Demeter had once been noted for its crystalline spires and for zoos hosting creatures from all across the Capellan region but that had been no work of House Liao – at most they had enjoyed brief suzerainty after the Tikonov Grand Union joined the Capellan Confederation. And what had once been a minor agrarian world was now a valuable industrial asset even with Lycomb’s factories destroyed by this battle and by the attack in 2760, back when he was just a boy.
Rather than commenting on this, he stretched. “Well, the infantry regiments I brought should let you free up some of your other units from rear area work to keep pressing the AFFS.”
“They have reinforcements as well,” admitted Quinn, the wind taken out of his sails. “The two divisions we’ve been fighting here only had about two regiments of ‘Mechs between them and the Arcadian Cuirassiers have been put under heavy pressure, but their last convoy landed what looks like a fresh division. Intelligence aren’t sure if Avalon Light Horse is a new designation or if someone mixed it up with Avalon Hussars.”
Baltazar frowned. “Both are valid.” The information about SLDF defections had been censored before it was released to the public, but surely Marshal Quinn should have been fully informed. “I’ll have my staff update yours with the latest data but the Avalon Light Horse were recently formed.”
“Ah, inexperienced troops then? That sounds promising.”
“Not very inexperienced,” Baltazar corrected him delicately. “It seems a number of former SLDF soldiers have for some reason pledged themselves to the Federated Suns.”
Quinn blinked. “That’s not quite so promising.”
“Not really, no.”
“Your excellency!”
Baltazar turned and saw his Maskirovka liaison officer pushing through the perimeter security around the two of them. One guard blocked the man and firmly insisted on checking his ID tags before letting the intelligence officer past. “Ah, well here’s the man who’ll be able to provide more details than I have on hand. Groacci, what has you in a snit now?”
Ion Groacci panted as he reached the two. “Urgent news from Capella, sir.”
“Capella?” Quinn straightened sharply. “What’s wrong on Capella, man?” Although he was born of Tikonov and currently fighting for Chesterton worlds, his formal station was Marshal of the Capellan Commonality and that was where most of his regiments had been brought in from for this operation.
“The shipyards,” the Maskirovka officer exclaimed, pausing and coughing. To be fair, there was quite a bit of dust.
“Delhi Warships or Rashpur-Owens?” asked Quinn tightly. Capella was the centre of the Capellan Navy’s operations – the two shipyards were the only ones in the Confederation capable of building anything larger than a corvette.
“Both sir. The Federated Suns Navy hit them hard.”
Baltazar paled. “But the fleet? There was a squadron of six ships stationed there, and at least that many ships from the Star League Navy.”
“All destroyed, sir.” Groacci cleared his throat. “It was a deep strike by one of their carrier groups, they caught the SLN ships with part of their crew on the surface. Details are to follow but twelve warships, including three battleships and four cruisers have been lost – along with five more that were under construction. There’s no estimate for when the yards can be returned to service.”
Quinn paled. “But the defence platforms? The fighter squadrons? The defences should have been impregnable!”
“Apparently not, sir.”
Baltazar considered the situation and then shook his head. “Davion knows just where to hit us. Without those yards, we can’t repair or replace our warship losses. Did we at least take out their carrier?” The destruction of FSS Basantapur the previous month had helped morale considerably, even if the loss of six destroyers and a corvette – along with damage to five other ships that now couldn’t be repaired anywhere in the Confederation – had had to be kept quiet.
“Unfortunately not, sir.” Groacci reported. “They lost over a hundred aerospace fighters and the pilots, of course, but none of their warships.”
Quinn seemed to shrink in on himself. “How could this have happened?”
Davion was prepared for this war, Baltazar thought. We were prepared for a war, but not for one like this. Is he that far ahead of us?
.o0O0o.
Conqueror’s Pride, Proserpina
Benjamin District, Draconis Combine
10 April 2778
Air defence installations hurled fire upwards, illuminating the planetary capital in the night, but it was too little and too late. That wasn’t to say there weren’t casualties – any hit at all from the weapons shredded the jump-infantry making the drop and it took distressingly little damage to prevent one of the VTOLs that had been pushed out of dropships into the upper atmosphere from bringing their descent under control.
But the spearhead of the landing was over three hundred heavy and assault ‘Mechs. Susan Sandoval saw the armour on her right leg depleted by more than half a ton of protection as a PPC shot hit the limb, but ‘Mechs were designed to take such a beating and keep fighting.
As the sprawl of Conqueror’s Pride grew beneath her, the MechWarrior fired the thrusters in the jump-pack strapped to her ‘Mech and the sixty-five-ton Mech’s fall slowed. Providentially, a cluster of long-range missiles tore through the sky beneath her, right where she’d have been. Still falling, she waited a moment identifying what she was falling toward and then turned the control to maximum thrust as the altimeter dropped into double-digits.
With a howl the rockets fought back against gravity’s grip and the Cestus crashed into a broad ornamental pond like a brick – but better a brick that a meteorite.
Susan ejected the pod and scanned her surroundings. The pond was one of several that softened the expanse of open ground between the centre of the city and the military district. More or less the correct landing zone then.
An autocannon fired, tracer tracking towards her position and she kicked the Cestus into motion before the fire reached her. One of the turrets mounted in the wall around the military positions. The battle computer highlighted it with a caret and Susan fired both her large lasers, ripping away protection but not quite doing enough damage to knock it out.
More ‘Mechs were hitting the ground now and she saw a Vector helicopter feathering down, just low enough for infantry to begin spilling from the rear hatch. The tracer fire switched course – the gunner must have his finger jammed down on the trigger – towards the helicopter.
Susan fired again, joined by a fusillade of autocannon fire from a Victor assault ‘Mech, and the turret fell silent. Others were lowering their weapons away from the sky to engage the threat developing on the ground.
“This is Dao-Six,” she ordered, “Group up and take out the turret guns.” Matching action to words she swept lasers across a missile launcher that was tracking towards her.
The Victor moved up obediently to do the same. “Where’s the rest of the command lance?” Smythe asked. “Shouldn’t they be here? Did they get taken out in the drop?”
“Shut up, Smythe,” an amused voice cut across the lance channel. Harrison stomped his own Victor down the road towards them. “Barclay’s ‘Mech lost its leg when he landed and the radio’s out. He’s crawled it up behind a building to cover one of the infantry assembly points.”
“Battalion status reports?” Susan called out as the turret finally gave up and exploded. “Talk to me, people.”
“First Battalion down, minimal losses but we drifted into the city a little. Maybe five minutes to reach the wall,” Bradford reported.
“Second Battalion came down straddling the wall,” Van Dorne added tersely. “I’m six ‘Mechs down, engaging what looks like the Eighth Benjamin Regulars. Trying to breach gate nine to concentrate my forces.”
There was a pause and then Gav Greaney spoke up. “Major Ryan’s jump pack was hit and he had to punch out. No contact so far, I’ve got Third Battalion moving up on gate seven.”
“Good work Captain. Fifth?” Fourth Battalion’s artillery was still aboard their dropships and wouldn’t be available to her demi-brigade until a landing zone was secured.
“Four platoons haven’t reported in,” Watsuki answered gravely. “I’m sending everyone who has towards gates nine and seven to support you.”
“Thank you Major.” Susan looked at the wall and grimaced. A Victor might be able to jump the wall but there weren’t all that many jump-capable ‘Mechs available. “Major Bradford, head for gate nine, that’s our main focus of attack. Captain Greaney, you’re on diversion.”
“We’ll make it look good, ma’am.”
Susan turned her ‘Mech towards Van Dorne’s position just as the division net chirped for attention. “Status report, all landing groups.”
“Sandoval here. We’re engaged with the Eighth Benjamin Regulars near gate nine. I’m mounting a diversionary attack on gate nine,” she reported.
“Rangers have secured a perimeter on the government centre and we’re beginning sweeps.” Colonel Daniels’ Fourth New Valencia Rangers demi-brigade made up the other half of First Brigade – three infantry battalions, one of the First Crucis Dragoons’ battalions and an aerospace squadron that was providing fire support. Unlike Susan he had all his units available.”
A less familiar voice was next. “This is Colonel Sylvester, the Heavy Guards came down inside gate three and we’re moving on the warehouses. SLDF infantry have engaged, we expect ‘Mechs and or armour to be mobilising.”
“Good work, all of you.” Major General Hammond – a couple of ranks higher than her one-time commander had ever expected to achieve – assured them. For the purposes of the assault on Prosperina the First Crucis Dragoons division had been reinforced by a brigade from the Davion Guards, giving them four entire ‘Mech regiments to spearhead operations. “Leading elements from Second and Third Brigades have a landing zone clear and dropships are on their way down with our artillery, armour and the 56th Avalon Hussars. Everything’s on the dot so far.”
Except one point, Susan thought. “Sir, do intel have a location on the Second Proserpina Hussars?”
“Not confirmed yet, Colonel. There’s high confidence they’re based away from the capital but that’s not one hundred percent so keep your eyes peeled.”
“Roger, sir.”
Gate nine reared ahead – a much higher density of turrets than the normal extent of the wall, although many had been taken out already. Briefings had confirmed that the ground access was actually a double-gate – after entering the outer gate the road dog-legged to the left for a hundred metres – with high walls either side – before reaching the inner gate.
“Smythe, Harrison. Get your Victors over the wall to help the troops inside. I’ll stick with the non-jumpers,” Susan ordered.
Obediently the two ‘Mechs fired their jump-jets and leapt up. Harrison dropped out of sight but Smythe landed on top of the bastion to the right of the outer gate. Almost immediately LRMs started flying at her but she kicked deliberately at one turret and fired her autocannon into something out of sight – probably a turret on the inner wall, Susan guessed.
“Use cover, Smythe!” she barked and almost sulkily the eighty-ton machine jumped again, this time beyond the wall.
The outer gate was a wreck, its massive armour panels battered and torn by weapons fire – and by kicks from Van Dorne’s Warhammer which had joined three other ‘Mechs in trying to force it open.
Susan was tempted to try the same solution that had worked on Tikograd but unlike the Capellan city, there wasn’t a second line of defences to screen the actual residential areas of the city from secondary effects of a fusion bomb. “Focus fire on the edges,” she ordered. “Van Dorne, back up so we can get clear shots.”
The major shuffled his ‘Mechs away and the assembled ‘Mechs – more than fifty now that First Battalion was arriving – directed lasers and PPCs to carve a rough square out of the door panels.
Watsuki’s infantry were just beginning to arrive as the section finally gave way and fell back into the interior of the gatehouse.
Van Dorne lead a dozen ‘Mechs into to the interior. “Take out the turrets,” he ordered. “Major Watsuki, can your sappers get the next door?”
“Just keep the machine guns off us,” the one-time sergeant replied, and sappers began to rush after the ‘Mechs, clutching demolition packs and the other tools of their trade.
.o0O0o.
Deber City, Benjamin
Benjamin District, Draconis Combine
29 May 2778
It had occurred to Minoru Kurita once or twice that the Star League was inconveniently centred on Terra. In order to participate in this meeting of the Council he’d had to leave his forward headquarters and visit one of the worlds on the double HPG loop between Terra and Luthien. And of course, that also made the communications dependent upon Jerome Blake’s organisation. That hadn’t been too concerning when Keith Cameron was in charge – the last Director-General of that family had been reasonably pliable. It wasn’t clear that McEvedy wouldn’t get ambitious.
That was probably why none of his peers had returned to Terra either. Ex-SLDF, ex-HAF and John Davion’s words of years ago remained a sound warning. What would keep McEvedy from quietly detaining them while they were at the centre of his power?
Evidence that the new Director-General was behind his predecessor’s assassination was proving frustratingly hard to establish. Such leverage would be very useful – specifically to gain access to the LTV Aerospace shipyards at Inglesmond. Liberated from Amaris in 2771, the LTV yards were back in limited service and with the recent devastation of the Combine’s shipyard at Chatham by Davion’s raiders, it might be the only way to keep the Draconis Combine Admiralty’s warships in service.
“How hard can it be to bring one lunatic to heel?” Kenyon Marik asked as reports of the fighting against the Federated Suns reached the current situation. “One realm out of six, and one noted more for its rural backwaters than its industry? And their military hardly covered themselves with glory out in the Periphery.”
“The Periphery Uprising was more than ten years ago,” Barbara Liao replied curtly. Her forces still held several Federated Suns worlds but with her own shipyards gutted, further advances had stalled. A push to retake Tikonov or to seize Chesterton and Kathil would require more confidence that her navy could afford to take the likely losses. “They learned hard lessons in the fighting, perhaps you would understand if you’d actually fought in a war.”
“Perhaps I should take the opportunity,” Kenyon agreed. “I take it, Coordinator, that the AFFS you’re facing differs from the force that crumbled in the face of the DCMS fifty years ago.”
“Fifty years ago, few of the soldiers now in service were alive. They – like you – had not been born.” Minoru felt his years now. “John Davion remembers that war though. He may have been a child then, but he learned his lessons well.” The DCMS hadn’t been pushed back off every world they’d taken in their first push on Robinson, they still had Marduk and its prized BattleMech factory as well as a few others. Davion’s decision to open a second front by attacking Proserpina had seen heads roll in ISF command.
Robert Steiner cleared his throat. “Even the vaunted SLDF seems to be having difficulty. General Baptiste reached Marlette in weeks but how far has General Lucas gone?”
“General Baptiste’s forces were welcomed and faced only nominal opposition,” answered General Lucas. “Her forces were geared to defect. My divisions aren’t and the AFFS knows it. Nonetheless, we’ve taken Caselton, which should isolate Tikonov from the Federated Suns and together with Cartago we now have staging areas into the Crucis March.”
“Your losses?” asked Minoru cautiously. “I trust they are not too steep.”
“Two divisions are no longer combat-capable. Their personnel and equipment are being redistributed. We estimate that AFFS casualties are roughly comparable. Fighter losses are another matter but we’ve thus far managed to avoid further encounters such as that over New Hessen.”
“The defeat of an entire carrier group hurts the Federated Suns Navy far more heavily than the losses taken, General.”
Lucas shook his head. “Chancellor, the Federated Suns seems able to replace such losses. The shipyards available to me are struggling to carry out necessary maintenance and to slowly return damaged ships to service. And that will be harder for us now given the attacks launched on your infrastructure and Lord Kurita’s.”
Kenyon Marik smiled thinly. “Indeed, terrible losses. And I must confess that the soldiers must be demoralised – their enemies fight for their prince, a man who can claim to stand for high principles and also cloak them in the romantic appeal of an outlaw. Our own soldiers though, are fighting for the Council. For a committee. It’s hard to feel that they are so motivated. I propose that we return to an earlier order of business and elect a new First Lord for the Star League.”
For the first time, McEvedy spoke up. “You have yourself in mind I suppose?”
“Naturally. With respect to my colleagues, we are no longer in a position for half-measures. We have treated this thus far as a limited war to dethrone John Davion as if that would restore matters to how they should be. We can no longer pretend that this is the case. Instead we must mobilise our full strength – which should certainly include bringing the industrial might of the Lyran Commonwealth and the Free Worlds League to bear upon the demands of the war.”
Marik rose to his feet. “And we must understand that the Federated Suns must be end this war diminished such that they can never again pose such a threat to the unity of the human race. The Capellan and Draconis Marches should be stripped away and their worlds placed under the government of the Houses that have already fought so hard to restrain Davion’s ambitions.”
“So nice of you to include me in your offer of further – expensive no doubt – support of efforts in the Suns,” Steiner grumbled.
Minoru ignored the Archon’s complaint. The offer was tempting – it would expand the Combine’s borders widely and leave him in a strong position to absorb the Outworlds Alliance as well – the periphery state was ridiculously weak with dozens of worlds defecting to the new Pentagon League. On the other hand, could Marik deliver? He did have a respectable navy and shipyards that hadn’t been damaged by the fighting.
“It’s easy to talk about reducing the Federated Suns to a territorial state but harder to deliver upon that,” Chancellor Liao responded sharply. “Send your regiments and ships through the Hegemony to support the war and deliver some victories for our case. Why should I support someone who cannot even do that?”
“That is true. You might as well be offering to place my cousin Vincent in his rightful place as First Prince for all the evidence we have that you can deliver such prizes.”
Marik’s face went red, giving him something of a resemblance to his father for once. “You can’t seriously think that I’d give your House not only the border worlds but core regions of the Suns!”
“Or that any of us would support seeing the dragon banner waving over a third of the Inner Sphere,” added Steiner.
Reining his anger in, Minoru sat back in his chair. “No more and no less realistic than the likelihood of the Marik eagle or Steiner fist becoming the banner of the Star League when none of you have stepped up to act on its behalf. The Chancellor is correct, if you expect to garner votes then do something to earn them.”
As the rest of the table descended into further back-biting and insults, Minoru looked again at the map marking the limited gains made by the offensives against the Federated Suns. Was it worth participating in this farce any longer? Davion was right, the Star League was a rotting carcass that they were wrapping in fine silks to pretend that all was well. But to leave the war with nothing to claim for it would diminish the authority he could pass on to Zabu.
What would it say to give up on the cause that had already cost him one son? Unavoidably his eyes went back to Robinson. As dreadful as it was to consider his son lost to a masterstroke, the ISF had been able to provide solid evidence that he’d simply had the appalling luck to arrive when several carrier groups could be rapidly assembled and reserve squadrons were present at Robinson.
Those squadrons had been used up fighting Jinjiro’s invasion force. It had been less than a year and all evidence was that the carriers operating in the Draconis March were still filling out their ranks with squadrons pulled from planetary reserves and fleshed out with new graduates from their flight schools. The attack on Chatham had been daring but even there losses had been taken among their fighter wings…
Four, perhaps five carrier groups in the Draconis March. If they were confirmed as out of position to reinforce the district capital then…
Did he dare? Could the Kurita dynasty survive a defeat if he was wrong?
“I’m sorry, Coordinator, are we boring you?”
Minoru looked up at McEvedy’s question. “Yes, yes you are. We have a war to fight and we are wasting time arguing over precedence. John Davion must find us a sad joke.” He reached out to the controls. “I have campaigns to prepare for. Perhaps we shall have more promising news to discuss when we next meet.”
Cutting the channel before they could annoy him with further babbling he looked again at Robinson. The one thing he could not afford was to be pushed onto the defensive. Strike for Robinson and Davion must divert his efforts away from Prosperina, redeem his son’s efforts…
He thumbed a control. “Summon Warlord Fujiwara and his staff to the command centre. Inform them the time has come for the dragon to rise.”
-
Avalon City, New Avalon
Crucis March, Federated Suns
1 July 2778
John found Hanse in the command centre, looking at the displays as they scrolled through data from all across the Federated Suns – and beyond it in some cases. Jerome Blake’s analysts had identified some of the coded messages being sent across the border but most was lost in the flood of ordinary communications. And so far, the threat of reciprocation had kept the Star League from banning HPG transmission into the Federated Suns.
Much of the best data wasn’t coded at all – just relaying national, planetary and local news back to the Suns gave Francesca Reznick’s analysts a huge amount of information to work with. A second data centre had been authorised under the last budget – hundreds more analysts and computers to store data and to run the search programmes that filtered it for reports that helped build up the big picture.
Hanse had been slumped in John’s own seat but the redhead rose and made way for him. “Early morning or late night?” the First Prince asked under his breath as he took his seat. It was the former for him – he’d arrived before the rest of the high command.
“It’s morning?” his ghostly descendant asked in feigned surprise. “Where does the time go?”
“The same place it usually does, I expect.” He looked at the displays but before he could ask what had Hanse’s attention, one of the support staff came in and – after giving John a startled salute – began reloading the coffee maker. John returned the salute and gave Hanse a questioning look.
“Kurita is making his move and it isn’t to reinforce Proserpina.” Hanse walked over to one of the maps and pointed out several border raids. “These are intended to pull reaction forces away from Marduk and Galtor, either to bolster our defences or counter-strike. In particular warships – he’s being just a little too tempting with the destroyers that hit Barlow’s End.”
John frowned. The Tancredi and her escorts had returned triumphantly from the deep strike on the Stellar Trek shipyards at Chatham. In addition to three partly constructed Narukami-class destroyers, Admiral Jones had reported that two Aegis-class cruisers and one of the even older Cruiser-class cruisers had been in dock with their cargo bays being replaced with flight decks for expanded aerospace wings. The old cruisers didn’t have the engines to compete with the mobility of a Federated Suns carrier group but they could increase the number of fighters the Draconis Combine Admiralty could field. “Might it be an attempt to entrap one of our carriers, the way the Basantapur was lost?”
“It could be, but we can’t ignore the threat.” Hanse stepped back from the map. “And responding means most of the carrier groups in the Draconis March won’t be able to rally to the Robinson region if Kurita pushes there again.”
“Would he do that?” John asked, bringing up a more detailed display on the holo fields in the middle of the conference table.
“Do what?” enquired Joshua from the doorway. “Ah, coffee.” He poured himself a steaming mug. “Do you want some, father?”
“Please. You know how I like it.” John finished setting up the display. “The recent raids and movements by the Combine could be intended to draw our reserves away from the Marduk-Robinson theatre.”
His son blinked. “The Coordinator pushing for Robinson? After what happened to his son there? That would be… unexpected.”
“For that very reason it could work.”
Placing a mug beside John, Joshua took the chair to his right. “Hmm. The entire Terran end of the Draconis March is pretty bare, isn’t it?”
“They’re catching the brunt of Lucas’ attacking out of Hegemony and we haven’t managed to get the DCMS off Tripoli or Royal yet.” John rubbed his face. “That’s tying up a lot of reserves. If the PDZs at the Outworlds border are pinned down then we have limited resources available.” He was beginning to regret his ultimatum to the Council Lords. Hanse had suggested simply sitting back and waiting, without issuing that challenge.
Perhaps it would have worked. No, it probably would have worked. But how long could he have borne living the lie of pretending he was still loyal to a dead Star League and still considered Steiner, Marik and the others to be fit to lead the League?
“I hate to say it then,” his son said slowly, “But that might mean cancelling the next wave of operations in Prosperina Prefecture. The divisions at Xhosa VII are the nearest thing we have to a reserve force right now. Clovis PDZ isn’t particularly threatened since Lucas seems intent on driving past it into the Crucis March.”
Hanse shook his head. “Bad idea. If Minoru can force us back on the defensive then we’re back where we started. If their worlds are safe and ours aren’t then the fighting can only end one way.”
John nodded. “I see where you’re going with that Joshua, but we can’t afford to take the pressure off Kurita and Liao. If the war is only fought on our soil then they’ve nothing to lose. The only way we can convince them to break off is by making it painful for them.”
He entered commands on the console and unit designations expanded. “It’s possible I’m jumping at shadows but reinforcing Robinson would be generally wise anyway – a reserve is always useful.”
“Where do we pull them from though? The Crucis March doesn’t have any formed divisions we can spare.”
“Then we’ll need to see what we can pull together.” John looked at the options. “The Seventh Federated Suns Lancers and the Fourth Avalon Light Horse haven’t shipped out yet. If we divert them, we’ve got two BattleMech demi-brigades. Add the Fourth Ceti Hussars and we’ve the core of a division.”
“The Fourth are green as grass,” protested Joshua. “Not just the troops, but Colonel Waterson’s not been posted outside the Crucis March in her entire career. Are you going to give her a division?”
John closed his eyes for a moment. Who could he pick? The brigade and division commanders that had been built up were mostly already in the field. You couldn’t just bring them up through academies, they needed to see action and get experience at managing thousands of people…
When he realised where his thoughts were going his eyes snapped open. Behind Joshua, he saw two blue eyes widen in sympathy.
“Your mother’s going to kill me, but no. I’m giving you the divisional command slot. Waterson should make a decent chief of staff.”
“You’re…” Joshua stared at his father and then took a gulp from his mug. “I must be half-asleep still. It sounded as if you said you were giving me command of the reinforcements.”
That got a thin smile from John. “I am.”
“But I’ve never commanded more than a company!”
“You’ve commanded the Department of Administration. Are you trying to say that that’s less of a responsibility than a division of soldiers?”
“No, of course not, but it’s entirely different.”
John shook his head. “Commanding a division – or a corps or even an army – is nine-tenths administration. You aren’t leading the troops in the field, you’re managing the people who do. I won’t deny that I’d rather I’d taken the time to run you through a staff officer’s course, but that’s water under the bridge. You’re an academy graduate, you’re a combat veteran and you’ve shown you can handle a large organisation. Anything you need beyond that, you’d better start figuring out.”
His son ran his fingers back through his hair. “Are we seriously this short on senior officers?”
“We have almost enough, which is more than I could have said fifteen years ago. I’ve cut a lot of deadwood out of the AFFS since the Border War,” John confided. If he'd had more time... The thought was tempting but it was too late to regret now. “Bringing in SLDF officers has helped, and I’ve been picking out promising young veterans for years. You’re not as prepared as some of them, but the experience with Administration and with the negotiations you’ve been carrying out for me puts you well ahead in some ways.”
“What happens if there’s another crisis? Do you have to go to the front?”
He nodded. “Maybe not if we need another division commander. There are some Brigadiers who are almost ready, I think. But generals and field marshals… we’ve got enough to fill the seats, not enough that I can be sure of them for the real crunch points. Michael Stopec, Thomas Green-Davion, Grover Simons… that sort of talent is rare. Your brother-in-law has potential too. One day he might be your Champion.”
“I’m in no rush. And however badly mother might take my going out,” Joshua pointed out, “She’d never forgive me if I had to bring you back in pieces. You stay safe here on New Avalon, okay?”
John shook his head. “My mother had to forgive my Uncle Richard for surviving when father and grandfather didn’t. Your mother will do what she has to. She’s a tremendously strong woman.”
“I’d offer to hold the door while you have your moment,” Hanse observed, “But I can’t do that and I think I hear some of the staff coming into the hall.”
The First Prince lifted his coffee mug and leant back in his chair as John Waynewright entered. The old Field Marshal didn’t have the same energy he’d shown back when he was helping ram the new doctrines through the AFFS officer corps, but he was a steady hand and had managed the withdrawal ahead of Baptiste’s forces brilliantly. Now a second SLDF offensive seemed primed to blast into his Operational Area and there was grim determination on his face – this offensive wouldn’t be stopped with soft words.
“Your highness. Your highness.” He bowed to his ruler and the heir. “Plotting the future of the Inner Sphere before we get here?”
“Something like that. I’ve got some concerns about the Draconis March…”
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Well that'll make for a fun family dinner tonight...
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gee Liao is learning they were not ready for this war, nor really was Kurita. Seems both are now short Naval yards 8)
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I'm loving it! It looks like Joshua might survive after all, and the other differences from the outline have me totally hooked. Great work Drakensis! :thumbsup:
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Great chapter! :)
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Hanse, STILL a bad ass no matter what century. Reading all that just like that. The man is a military savant! Even if they bloody the DC enough for them to quit I do not think the border will change that much, I think in the end just a few worlds will change hands. Likely a few more for the FC than the DC but not many. CC though will be forced to give ground by the end and give back what she has won and lose a number of worlds to. Specially once Marik decides to strike. The TH though... I think they will stay the same and just do what they can to survive. The LC will surly attack the RW but I think with kerenskys military mind and ability he will be able to turn them away and even win a few worlds, though not many I do not think. By then it will be every man for himself as the periphery laughs at everyone in the inner sphere.
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The LC will surly attack the RW but I think with kerenskys military mind and ability he will be able to turn them away and even win a few worlds, though not many I do not think. By then it will be every man for himself as the periphery laughs at everyone in the inner sphere.
I would bet something like this, LC raids a couple places, Steiner goes to his lodge for the weekend wakes up to an agent sitting next to the fire, a couple guys in stealth armor at the door, agent just says
"we have video of you with ..... dont bother any other realm again, or the next visit will involve a new archon"
fill in the blank with whatever suits you
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Considering how often politicians seem to sleep around in both fiction and real life, I'm going to say video of him with his wife.
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Low Orbit, Robinson
Draconis March, Federated Suns
3 August 2778
The Fourth Ceti Hussars Division reached Robinson barely ahead of the storm.
Their dropships dived into the atmosphere as wings of Combine aerospace fighters plunged after them. Joshua was strapped into his Marauder, the ‘Mech itself clamped into place, and the pull of the Tower-class dropship Orinoco’s engines conflicted with the drag of Robinson’s gravity.
Secondary displays showed him the bigger picture: Combine transports, escorted by at least two cruiser-sized ships with a large escort of aerospace fighters were making for landing zones on Canaan, half a world away from his own landing zone on Megiddo. Three Samarkand-class carriers and an escort of Narukami-class destroyers were duelling with a Federated Suns carrier group – neither side had an advantage, which meant that right now the loser was the jumpship yard they were fighting over. Already the largest slip, wrapped around a partially completed Invader-class jumpship, was more debris than it was scaffold.
Down on the surface, the Robinson March Militia and two other Mech demi-brigades were formed around the planetary capital. He saw armour and infantry forces scattered across Megiddo and Solomon, but the only regiments on Canaan were the Fifth Robinson Chevaliers, the Second Canaanite Motorised Infantry regiment and their supporting artillery, engineer and aviation battalions.
“General Davion, can you adjust your landings to support our forces on Canaan?” Vasily Sandoval asked by radio.
Joshua didn’t even need to query the dropship commander. He’d asked similar questions as they raced for the shelter of the planet. “Negative. The Combine transports have cruisers escorting them. Even if your aerospace fighters gave us cover, their guns would cut us apart. I can divert to Solomon but Canaan’s airspace is too hot right now.”
“I thought as much,” the duke admitted. He rubbed his face. “Alright, I’ll speak to you when you’re on the ground.”
The channel cut off and Joshua felt the dropship rock. Hopefully it was only buffeted by the air – if the Combine fighters were packing Alamos then they’d rip the little convoy apart with airburst nukes.
The Robinson aerospace defence squadrons leant heavily towards Centurions – older models unfortunately – and Stukas. They trained against Sabres but the heavier SL-15 Slayers in Combine aerospace wings were something of a new problem for them. There had been reports of something else in development for the Draconis Combine Admiralty – a project designated the SL-17 Shilone. Fortunately, no one was reporting any unidentified fighters in action so perhaps it wasn’t ready for this roll of the dice.
Even without that, the next time the Orinoco shook it was definitely the result of weapons fire. “All passengers remain strapped in,” the captain ordered distantly. “We’re taking light weapons fire from some fighters. Nothing we can’t deal with.”
Joshua switched his secondary monitor to the feed he was getting from the dropship’s command deck. The systems display was all green and the sprinkling of amber on the hull status confirmed the captain’s words. These new transports were massively armoured – even the autocannon of the Slayers couldn’t cause local penetrations.
In exchange, missile launchers mounted in the hulls threw massive LRM volleys back at the fighters. The launchers were copies of those used by warships – each salvo was sixty missiles, enough to seriously threaten the delta-winged fighters. Two of them were blasted apart and others broke away from trying to get in among the formation of transports. The arrival of fifteen Stukas was enough to convince the Combine pilots to withdraw – they might be able to engage the heavier fighters in a dog-fight, but not inside the weapons envelope of the transports and the pilots from Robinson were more interested in clinging to the flank of the dropships and screening them against more attacks than they were in trying rack up kills.
Switching back to the wider display, Joshua saw that the brigade on Canaan was dispersing. A good move by Sandoval – alone the troops couldn’t have fought off the invasion force that was coming down. As raiders they could survive, gather information and compel the DCMS to divert forces to try to eliminate their disruption.
And intelligence update flashed up. Tentative identification marked some of the dropships as assigned to the Dieron Regulars. The Third Regulars had been among the regiments destroyed during Jinjiro Kurita’s attack – Military Intelligence suggested that three or even all four of their brother regiments were here now.
Joshua quickly refreshed his recollection of the units. The Combine didn’t control Dieron – it was one of the interior worlds of the Hegemony. Back in the formative years of both the Terran Hegemony and the Alliance of Galedon (the precursor state to the Draconis Combine), several thousand soldiers from Dieron had been enlisted in the armies of Shiro Kurita. For four and a half centuries, House Kurita had spoken vaguely of the ‘destiny’ that would one day place the Dragon banner above Dieron once more. The Dieron Regulars had loomed on the border between the Combine and the Hegemony as a symbol of that intention.
If they were all here then it might mean interesting things for Minoru Kurita’s relations with the Hegemony government. Unfortunately, they were more than a mere parade ground unit. Like most DCMS Regular regiments they were well-trained and well equipped. The First Dieron Regulars in particular were singled out as among the most dangerous units in the DCMS with a focus on planetary assaults. It was likely they’d spearhead for the landing.
Judging by the numbers, there must be seven or eight DCMS divisions in the landing force – probably seven and some supporting regiments. Half of them from the Dieron Regulars and the rest? Hopefully MilInt would come up with some answers. Then again, the DCMS apparently weren’t shy about announcing their identities. During their first attack, many regiments of the Regulars had fought in parade ground colours and the Sword of Light had sported their trademark red paint.
Against those thirty-five to forty regiments, the defence of Robinson rested on two regular AFFS divisions – his own and the Robinson Chevaliers division which was now effectively short by a brigade – and the Robinson March Militia. Allowing for the planetary guards, maybe thirty regiments of which six were made up of BattleMechs.
“If we stand on the defensive, that should be manageable,” he murmured to himself. “But that relies on further reinforcements arriving and from what father said, that’s not going to happen any time soon.”
Joshua hit the unit push. “Troopers, this is General Davion,” he declared, knowing his voice was being sent from dropship to dropship. “It seems we’ll be landing securely at Robinson’s main spaceport. That doesn’t mean we’re not going into a war zone. Keep your weapons ready but your trigger fingers under control while we disembark. It’s likely we’ll be deploying within a day or two of landing so don’t go getting too comfortable.”
There was a chirp from his radio and he switched channels, accepting the call from Duke Sandoval. The Field Marshal of the Draconis March spoke with a steady voice despite the threat to his homeworld. “General, I want your troops out and on the ground as quickly as you can. Once you’re disembarked your dropships are to hop to drop-ports on Solomon and feign disembarking battlegroups there. From the landing sites on Canaan, it makes most sense for Kurita’s forces to try to force a crossing to Megiddo. I’d rather he focused on that than on outflanking us through Solomon.”
“I see. So as long as it looks like Solomon is garrisoned he’s less likely to get creative.” Joshua nodded in understanding. “That does mean we can’t deploy our full forces to face him without giving the game away.”
“There are ways around that,” Vasily assured him. “Unlike the Combine, my regiments wear camouflage so it should be hard for them to tell at a glance which regiments they’re fighting. I know every inch of the coastlines. If he tries to establish a beachhead anywhere, we can isolate the landing in a pocket and destroy them.”
“I look forward to seeing that, sir.”
The duke smiled thinly. “So does my own son. I’ll be delegating a great deal of the frontline fighting to the two of you.”
“I’ve met Reuben, of course. I look forward to working with him.”
“Yes.” Sandoval rubbed his cheek. “I gather many of your division are ex-SLDF. We’ll have to show them how the AFFS fights.”
Most of them saw that in the Hegemony, that’s why they joined us. But Joshua didn’t say that. Reuben Sandoval had risen to command of the Robinson Draconis March Militia by virtue of his father’s patronage. So far as Joshua recalled, the closest thing he’d seen to real action was getting his regiment crushed by his younger sister’s back the Operation Galahad exercises.
.o0O0o.
Avalon City, New Avalon
Crucis March, Federated Suns
13 September 2778
“I need reinforcements, not platitudes!” Vasily Sandoval exclaimed across the HPG link between Robinson and New Avalon. “What use is it to take Mara and David off the Combine if Robinson falls?”
“I’m looking at the same reports you’ve doubtless got in front of you,” John replied without raising his voice. “You don’t seem to be in any danger of losing Robinson. In fact, you’re pinning down a large portion of the mobile forces the Combine had on the border.”
The Duke shook his head. “You say that as if it’s an accomplishment. You’re not the one watching his homeworld burn. They say the Coordinator himself is here, to take revenge for the death of his son.”
“He could be right,” Hanse noted.
“The first part seems likely. And you’re right, it is your homeworld. But they’re all my citizens, Vasily.”
“Give me two fresh divisions and I’ll bring you Kurita’s head.”
“What would I do with that?” John asked tiredly. “And where would I get two fresh divisions from? The regiments from Tripoli and Royal are exhausted, the divisions from the Crucis March committed against the SLDF and even away from the main theatres, we’ve got heavy raiding and counter-raiding along half our borders.”
Light years away a fist hit a table. “How about the brigades you sent off to reinforce your Proserpina offensive!?”
“We need that defensive depth.” He leant back and rubbed his face. “I’ll look at pulling the Fifth Crucis Dragoons and a brigade of the Davion Guards as reinforcements but they can’t possibly reach Robinson until next month and I’ll need to scare up a warship escort for them.”
Sandoval opened his mouth and then paused. “We have a carrier group in system already.”
“The Remagen’s running on patchwork repairs for her fighters. Give me three, maybe four weeks and the Tancredi will be there with a full-strength aerospace wing and enough spare fighters to get the Remagen back up to full capacity.”
For a moment he thought he’d sealed the deal but then Sandoval shook his head. “I’ve given you everything I can, sire. But I can’t let this go on. I’m exercising my authority as Field Marshal and calling in fresh regiments from the rest of the March. The Eighth and Twenty-Second Chevaliers will take my orders.”
John winced. “That’s going to leave a gap sixty light years wide into Fairfax PDZ,” he warned.
“The March can survive losing Damerang or Colia. But Robinson is burning, sire. I can feel it. If you countermand me…”
“Don’t say anything you can’t take back.” The First Prince steepled his fingers and eyed his vassal for a long moment. “Very well. I will confirm those orders and send the other reinforcements. And when Robinson has been secured, I’m calling you back to New Avalon for consultation. Is that understood?”
Sandoval straightened. “I will come when you call me, sire. My conscience is clean.”
“Really? However did you manage that?” John regretted the words as soon as he said them.
“I don’t play at politics, your highness,” the Duke said sharply.
“You just did.” John met his gaze bleakly. “Understand this, Vasily. As long as the Federated Suns survives, the Draconis March will likewise endure. But if the Lords have their way and break us then your domain’s future will be as a province of the Draconis Combine. I have my sources on Terra still and they’re more than happy to share such nuggets of information.”
“You say that, but you don’t know what he’s doing to my people. Kurita isn’t just waging war on soldiers – he’s drafted civilians into work battalions on Canaan. Building fortifications, tearing down monuments and synagogues… and that’s just what I’ve found out so far. Agents sent into the mines and refineries tend not to return, but thousands of civilians who’ve been drafted aren’t coming back either.”
“You’re wrong, Vasily.”
“My sources are impeccable,” the Duke asserted.
“Not about what he’s doing. You’re wrong when you assume I’m ignorant of those facts. I’m painfully aware that what is happening is going to scar Robinson, and many other worlds, for decades to come. And that’s a price I’ve decided to pay, because the alternative is a ravaging that not even our grandchildren would see an end to.” John straightened in his chair. “Do you think my son would be on Robinson if I was going to write your homeworld off?”
“I… no.”
“You said your conscience was clear. Speaking as your First Prince, that’s a luxury I don’t have. My decisions lead to thousands of deaths and I can only hope that they prevent the deaths of millions.”
The weighty man on the holo-display blinked. “You see this as getting worse?”
“Much worse. Send for your regiments, Vasily. And then make preparations to absent yourself from Robinson.” John cut the channel and slumped backwards. “If I could only tell him how much worse things could be.”
“He probably wouldn’t believe you.” Hanse leant over and rested one immaterial hand on John’s shoulder. “Reznick barely does and you’ve been subtly guiding her to the right conclusions for years.”
He nodded slowly. “I wanted to save the Star League. But now I have to destroy it.”
“If you can.”
“Yes, if I can. It’s hard to believe that something so grand could be broken but…”
The ghost nodded. “In Norse myth, the wolf Fenris was bound by the footsteps of a cat, the beard of a woman, the breath of a fish and… I don’t remember the rest. Intangible myths. When the time came it would strain against them and nothing at all would hold it back.”
“How very apt. So all that’s been keeping us from turning against ourselves in bloody war is faith in the fairness of the Camerons, the unity of the Great Lords and the invincibility of the SLDF.”
“Something like that. You’re developing a very dark view of humanity though.”
“Am I wrong?” John asked. “Isn’t this always what we fall back into? A cycle of unity, tyranny, then uprisings that lead to chaos and war?”
Hanse considered that and then shrugged. “And yet each time we build up, we build higher and better. Perfection is for God, John. All we do is try to move in the right direction.”
He sighed. “Perhaps.” Raising his hand, he mimed striking with a hammer. “The others already know they can carve up the HPG network to increase their control over their realms. The only Cameron left has washed her hands of us, the bickering in the Star League Council is a scandal barely anyone can be ignorant of… so one more myth broken and the last thing holding the Star League together will be gone.”
“Yes, that’s right. Of course, the thing about defeating an invincible army is that it’s always easier to talk about than it is to actually do.”
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FSS Joan Brandt, Lutyen 68-28
Lockdale Province, Terran Hegemony
4 October 2778
“Jumpships entering the system – it’s an entire convoy!”
Rear Admiral Mary Kaga tensed in her seat. The operation so far had unfolded with the metronome precision that she’d desired. However, now everything hinged upon whether this was SLDF reinforcements or the people they were here for.
Giving up the Tancredi had been more of a wrench than she’d expected. Admiral Jones’ eyes had been sympathetic when he gave her the news of her promotion just weeks before the carrier departed for Operation Oxbow – but then, he must have felt exactly the same way when he had to give up the same ship during the Hegemony campaign.
And now here she was in the Terran Hegemony, but instead of supporting the SLDF she was here to strike at its weaknesses.
“Ready the aerospace fighter wings,” Kaga ordered with forced calm. “All ships prepare for combat thrust.”
That didn’t mean quite as much as it would have aboard the Tancredi – the Brandt-class carriers could handle about fifty-five metres per second squared of acceleration, which wasn’t bad by naval standards but if what was arriving were fast destroyers and corvettes then they’d have an edge.
“Jump flares categorising… Invaders, Star Lords, two Leviathans…” The sensor operator – Fu O’Hare, who for no reason Kaga understood had been nicknamed ‘Bucky’ by rest of the staff - looked up. “No warships so far.”
“Very good. Give the challenge.”
While the coded transmission flashed out at light speed towards the jump point, Kaga checked that everything else was in order. Lutyen 68-28 – sometimes referred to as Freedom Station – was home to a SLDF repair yard, one of the few in the Hegemony that hadn’t fallen into Amaris’ hands. According to her briefings, before the Coup it had supported a fleet of spy ships that had routinely violated the space of member-states to gather information. As a result, its very existence had been a tightly kept secret and Amaris had presumably never known about the facilities in the uninhabited systems.
After the Coup, the yard had still serviced spy ships gathering information, although this time it was data regarding the Usurper’s activities that was being sought out. In addition, it had been a hub for laying out HPG relay satellites to replace the First Circuit Alpha HPGs that had previously been the core of interstellar communications.
When the Joan Brandt and her escorts had jumped in, the slips had been surrounded by derelicts. More warships than the entire FSN could boast lay awaiting repairs, having been patched up just enough to reach this refuge and then left to wait. Repair docks, two of them showing signs of having been rapidly expanded to contain full-scale warships, were hard at work on corvettes and cruisers while a pair of yard ships were mutually entangled – one resting within the open repair arms of a second. It was a mute testament to the fantastic size and power of the SLDF. Fully repaired the ships here could have provided a concentrated punch to smash through the thin-stretched lines of the Federated Suns Navy and escort landing forces as far as New Avalon.
As it was, the first pass of the Brandt’s fighters had smashed apart the handful of cruisers and battlecruisers on watch. The Pentagon-class dropships supporting the pickets had been more of a threat to the fighters, killing almost forty of them before they were eliminated.
After that it had been butchery – cold, precise slaughter as the comparatively light armament of the Brandt and the two frigates with her converted ship after ship and dock after dock to so much scrap metal. The SLDF could probably still salvage something from what had been one of their major repair hubs, but it would be the ferro carbide plating torn from broken hulls and fragments of germanium from the shattered jump drives rather than repairable vessels.
A single hab station had been spared for the lifeboats and escape pods to make for… and then, rather than leaving the system, they had simply headed for a jump point and waited.
“We have a response, admiral. It’s decoded but I can’t make any sense of it.”
“Send it to me.” Kaga brought up the internal comm screen in front of her and the text of the message appeared a moment later. ‘Stalin’s Dead Hand. Eggs. Paulus. Eagle.’ Six words that would only have definite meaning if, like herself, she’d memorised the information provided under extreme security by a very serious pair of Ministry of Information couriers.
“Good news and bad news,” she informed her staff. “These are the ships we’ve been waiting for, the final stage of our mission is to escort them home to the Federated Suns. The bad news is that the rendezvous point may have been compromised.”
“Who are they?” asked O’Hare.
“Classified, Leftenant.” Kaga gave the young officer what she hoped was a reassuring look. “All we need to know is that they’re under our protection.”
“Probably SLDF defectors,” speculated Zoe Tomozo from the aerospace control station.
Kaga’s eyes narrowed slightly. She and Tomozo had both been in the same courses at New Avalon Military Academy, graduating first and fifth in their class respectively. Their careers hadn’t crossed again until now and the Admiral had to wonder if this tendency to push slightly at regulations was why Tomozo was only a Major. “As I said, classified.”
“Nothing to say I can’t make guesses.”
“In your own time, perhaps.” Kaga considered the facts and risks. “Transmit our next jump point to the convoy and instruct them to begin hot-charging their drives if they haven’t already. Between any pursuit and a likely SLDF response to our presence here, I intend to depart Lutyen 68-28 at the earliest possible moment.”
Providentially, several of the jumpships had been fitted with lithium-fusion batteries that would allow them to recharge their drives almost immediately. While it didn’t hasten the others, it did cut the number of dropships that might have to be left behind if the hot-charging led to crippling damage to a jumpship’s Kearny-Fuchida drive. The steady trickle of energy from a solar sail or a normal transfer from a reactor took a week or more, which Kaga considered more time than was advisable.
As it was, they were waiting long enough for Tomozo to up her speculations from mere SLDF dependents to Helena Cameron and millions of tons of germanium for the war effort. “Can’t you get a mass figure so we can calculate how much they’re carrying?” she asked O’Hare, not quite outside Kaga’s earshot.
The younger officer frowned in thought. “I could, but I don’t think I should. Going digging for classified information isn’t the same as just speculating about it.”
“You’ve no sense of adventure.”
Kaga gave O’Hare a slight nod of approval but the young officer probably didn’t see it because she snapped her full attention back to her console. “Jump flares, warship size.” She adjusted her controls and provisional designations popped up on the tactical display. “Seven flares, aggregate estimate… close to six megatons.”
Tomozo was only a fraction behind in getting back to her responsibilities. “Ready fighters launching. I’ll have forty birds out in five minutes.”
“Seven flares doesn’t match normal SLDF deployments,” Kaga noted thoughtfully. “Time before the convoy can jump?”
“Fifty-seven minutes.”
“I see.” She considered her options. “Convey my respects to Captain Thompson and the Hotspur is to jump directly. Inform the convoy that all ships are to jump immediately their drives are ready.” That would get at least half of them clear in case matters went poorly.
“That does deprive us of half of our escort, ma’am.”
“I’m able to count, Major. I’ll rely on your fighters to make up the difference.”
Tomozo coloured as comms sent the necessary orders.
“Jumps completed,” reported O’Hare seriously. “Four ships of one point one megatons, three smaller vessels. Checking electronic signatures… one Aegis-class cruiser.”
That meant nothing, Aegis-class ships had been sold to everyone.
“Atreus!” the young officer exclaimed. “The battleships are Atreus-class, they’re from the Free Worlds League!”
“What are the Free Worlds League doing here?”
Chasing the convoy, obviously. Kaga shook her head slightly. “Atreus-class ships can carry at least a wing of aerospace fighters each. Major Tomozo, prepare for an anti-shipping strike and assume we’ll need a considerable escort to get the fighters past the enemy screen.”
“Understood, ma’am. We’ve pulled spare fighters out of reserve and I can give you eight wings within ten minutes.”
“Good.” The Brandt wasn’t just slower than a New Syrtis-class carrier, she was also less heavily armed – there simply hadn’t been enough spare naval weapons to fit her out. In exchange she had a sturdier hull and, useful here, deep cargo bays. It was common practise to carry a number of spare fighters that could be brought forward to replace combat losses and the flight crews had clearly done so.
Tomozo entered commands and then straightened. “Admiral, as an update, loading for this strike will take us below fifty percent of our nuclear arsenal.”
Kaga nodded calmly. “Understood, Major. Make the most of them.” If anything was going to cripple the FSN right now, it was lack of missiles for their fighters. Despite new factories being set up, the supply of new missiles simply wasn’t equalling expenditures – and for every missile that hit a target, as many as nine might miss or simply never be launched if the fighter carrying them was destroyed before it could launch.
Her eyes flicked to the convoy and she saw a Leviathan-class ship loaded with a pair of Colossus troop transports and six Mammoth freight dropships jump out of the system. And that was why an entire carrier group was being risked this deep behind enemy lines. Tomozo’s speculation was close in some regards – the convoy was carrying SLDF defectors – but the 250th BattleMech Division had defected almost two years ago… and only their most senior officers knew who they’d really defected to.
Not all of the SLDF’s facilities in the Free Worlds League had been sold off. While Kaga wasn’t cleared for the exact location, somewhere in the Stewart Commonality an off-the-books subterranean base had remained hidden away… housing an arsenal of weapons of mass destruction. While taking the chemical and biological weapons would have been worthwhile just to deny them to what remained of the Star League, there were also more than a million nuclear warheads in storage… or at least there had been.
Another jumpship vanished, carrying more of that arsenal and who knew what besides?
“Fighters ready,” Tomozo reported.
Kaga allowed herself a slight smile. Judging by the clock, the launches had been quite efficient. “You may begin, Major.”
The Free Worlds League Navy squadron was under thrust now, heading across the jump point towards the convoy’s remaining jumpships. With little more than station-keeping capacity, there was nothing the convoy could do except continue to charge their drives as rapidly as possible.
A hundred and sixty aerospace fighters streaking through the formation of transports sent the warships up in a sudden change of course, dropships fanning out into a screening posture. Was it possible that they hadn’t even recognised the Brandt and the Europa beyond the convoy? If so it was a rather disappointing performance by the FWLN.
Kaga watched as the dropships and the two smallest warships – League-class destroyers – formed an outer line of defence. The Aegis hung back, behind even the battleships. Odd choice, as if… “Leftenant O’Hare, isn’t there a FWLN squadron that uses an Aegis cruiser as the flagship?”
The young brunette blinked. “Yes ma’am. Their first fleet’s flagship is FWLS Olympic.”
“I believe that that may be who we’re dealing with.”
“Should I prioritise the cruiser,” asked Tomozo.
The admiral considered and then shook her head. “On balance, he hasn’t impressed me so far. Eliminating him might leave a more able officer in command.”
The League ships had at least shown the sense to put a squadron of Sabres out as an aerospace patrol. Now Eagles and Stingrays were hurled out of their launch bays to engage the incoming Federated Suns fighters. Kaga bit her lip. The FWL aerospace fighters were capable designs – middlingly agile with a formidable armament of lasers, and in the case of the Stingray a nose-mounted particle beam.
Then her eyes narrowed as the League squadrons converged towards her heavy wings – one made up of Vulcans and the second mixing that design with Stukas, a composite of two wings that had taken losses against the picketing dropships. Why were they giving her Centurions and Tomahawks a chance to…?
“I don’t believe they’re familiar with our Centurion IIs,” she realised out loud. “They think they’re using maximum overthrust.” The larger engine of the upgrade meant that newer Centurions carrying external missiles could maintain the same thrust as unladen older models. “Major, please educate them as to their error.”
The Tomahawk IIs turned to reinforce their heavier comrades, the extended range lasers skewering FWL fighters from outside their ability to fight back. Meanwhile eighty Centurion IIs focused in on the enemy warship lines. Fourteen long, needle-nosed Achilles dropships opened fire with particle beams, autocannon and long-range missiles but tethered to the slower moving destroyers they could do little more but to twist to try to keep their longer-range weapons on target as the Centurions curved past them, only a single fighter destroyed in the penetration.
And there behind the screen were their targets. Seventy-nine pilots brought their Centurion IIs around, twisting to avoid the three quad-lasers that were the battleships’ only serious anti-fighter weapons and each wing had picked its own target.
Sunburst detonations masked the Free World League’s First Fleet’s battleship line in a blaze of heat, radiation and electromagnetic disruption.
Two of the four battleships lumbered out of that hellstorm, one almost unrecognisable with the entire forward third of its hull blasted away. It’s sister-ship was scarred and battered but clearly still able to operate as the Centurion II fighters, now unhampered by external loads, broke away to take care of the Sabres that were belatedly trying to eliminate them.
The dogfight that had engaged both side’s heavier fighters broke up as the Stingrays and Eagles tried to withdraw to avenge the destruction of the two battleships. If Tomozo had ordered such then Kaga would have relieved her on the spot – the Vulcans and Stukas might not be able to keep up with the change of course but that still gave them a window of opportunity and thirteen League fighters were destroyed, completely avoidably, as the heavy Federated Suns fighters fired into their rears.
Otherwise losses in the furball had been about equal – but this left only fifty fighters in the Free Worlds League’s wings, many of them severely damaged, while sixty of their Federated Suns counterparts formed up and as the Centurions re-joined them the combined forces slipped back among the now much reduced convoy of transports and back to the Joan Brandt.
Four Stingrays tried to give chase even so, only to find the that there was a Titan-class dropship on one of the Star Lord-class jumpships still charging its drives. While the dropship didn’t detach, it launched its fighters and the eighteen Ironsides made short and brutal work of the Stingrays.
“Admiral, the dropship Basingstoke asks us to take care of their fighters.”
Kaga looked over at her communications officer. “Confirm that we will do so, Leftenant Coleman.” Sadly, they had more than enough open bays to comply with the request.
The young man repeated the confirmation into his headset and a moment later the Star Lord activated its jump drive, taking the Titan away from its aerospace fighter complement.
“We’re getting a transmission from the enemy fleet,” Coleman added absently. “I think… I think it’s the enemy admiral.”
“Didn’t they identify themselves?”
“No sir. He seems to be making demands…” The leftenant listened carefully. “He seems to want traitors to stop running away and Federats – sorry, Admiral, that’s what he calls us – to come out and battle like men.”
“I’m not inclined to do that,” Kaga said thoughtfully. “Why do you think he’s their admiral?”
“No one’s shut him up yet.”
She nodded. “Good thinking, Mr Coleman.”
Four more jumpships vanished in the familiar flare of jump drives and then the Joan Brandt and the Europa were alone facing the oncoming FWL war fleet.
“I think we’ve completed our mission,” Kaga said coolly. “Major Tomozo, recover our fighters and leave.”
“We could probably destroy them, ma’am.”
“I’m of the opinion too,” she told her airboss patiently. “But that isn’t our mission today.”
“Understood ma’am.”
The FWL admiral was still screaming denunciations as the two warships activated their jump drives and left him behind.
-
You know, when the Council Lords find out what John's just stolen their going to be pissed and likely very worried.
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Ah... Helm, such a troublesome place... and so very cold.
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Just wanna point out 55 m/s^2 acceleration is equivalent to 5.5 Gs, or 7/11 thrust in game terms. Each thrust point works out to a half-gee of acceleration. Since that would be faster than the Mako's acceleration and take up 42% the mass of your ship, I'm guessing you were aiming for 3/5, and around 27-28 m/s^2?
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Yes, my mistake
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Hotspur!! You have excellent taste, sir! :thumbsup:
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This makes me want to create a new ex-SLDF force copying the new AFFC structure to a large degree.
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totally think they should have stayed and ether destroyed them or caused even MORE serious damage, especially taking out the other 2 BBs. Hell, take out everyone except the enemy admiral. lol >:D :thumbsup: xp
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"Never do an enemy a small injury"
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"Never do an enemy a small injury"
your leaving the idiot admiral, thats more damage right there than anything else
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"Never do an enemy a small injury"
They've already destroyed 2 Atreus-class ships. Plus massive damage to another two. Those are the heaviest warships outside of the SLN, and way more than the Joan Brandt and her escort's weight.
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Avalon City, New Avalon
Crucis March, Federated Suns
12 October 2778
They were back where their interactions had begun – well, unless you counted the dream of walking across the Peace Park. John had just exited his bathroom and found Hanse pacing back and forth across the small antechamber. “What’s happened?” he asked the redhead as he lifted the flask of coffee from the waiting trolley and filled a mug. It was cheap novelty his daughter-in-law had found somewhere and presented to him – it had a rather poor representation of his face on one side and the legend ‘The Rogue Prince of the Star League!!’ on the other. It would have been tacky even without the double exclamation marks but Edwina thought it was hilarious so John had assigned it to his breakfast trolley where the public were very unlikely to ever learn of it.
“It’s what didn’t happen,” Hanse observed. “Joshua’s let us down.”
“That’s my son you’re talking about. And your ancestor.”
“It seems not, that chain of causality has now been broken.”
“Oh?”
“It just occurred to me that the next ancestor in succession should have been born a month ago.” Hanse threw his hands in the air. “And as far as I know, his wife hasn’t even been pregnant yet. Did I distract you from telling him about the birds and the bees?”
“You’re not about to fade away, are you?”
Hanse paused and blinked. “I have no idea. I assume that if it was a factor then it would have happened at some point when she didn’t gestate.”
“It would be fairly inappropriate for me to question my son and Mary about their sex lives,” John told him and sipped on the sweet sweet caffeine, which did more to banish sleep than the cold water from his sink. “So, I would have had a… grandson last month in your history?”
“Paul Davion II, one of our greatest First Princes.”
“Given how circumstantial history is, he might not have turned out the way he did in your timeline anyway. And if I recall my middle school biology correctly, it’s a coin toss whether or not I’d have a grandson or a granddaughter.” John thought back through the dates. “So conceived around Christmas, maybe a little later?”
“I assume so. Exact details weren’t recorded for obvious reasons.”
John nodded. “It’s the DeChevilier’s fault then. Joshua had to rush off to Tancredi IV to mediate with David Avellar over the Pentagon League forming.”
“Instead of doing his dynastic duty,” Hanse grumped but his eyes had something of their normal twinkle now. “Couldn’t you send Mary to Robinson to get things started?”
“That’s probably not a good idea, but if it bothers you that much I’ll try to keep him on New Avalon for a while if no fresh new disasters develop. Edwina would surely like grandchildren.”
“Thank you.”
John opened the door to his dressing room and found the suit he’d be wearing this morning hung ready for him. He’d have been astonished if it wasn’t, of course. “What did this now unavailable grand-child of mine do? A great peace-maker?”
“I’m afraid not,” the ghost told him. “He took the throne at the darkest hour of the First Succession War and led us out of it. The seeds of turning things around were there already of course, and you were cer-” He broke off, a look of chagrin on his face. “I’m sorry John.”
A flush of anger rushed through the First Prince and he forced himself to calm. “I can’t say I’d not suspected that Joshua wouldn’t succeed me. Predeceased?”
“More or less simultaneous, I’m sorry to say.” Hanse spread his hands. “An assassin caught you together in your field headquarters. As I said, it was the lowest point in the Federated Suns, losing both the First Prince and his heir at once.”
“The height of Jinjiro Kurita’s offensive, I take it.” John tried to finish buttoning his shirt but found that his fingers were shaking. He looked at the coffee and then simply splashed some milk into his mug and sipped it, slightly darkened by the dregs of coffee that had still been in the bottom. “Not something we have to worry about now, is it?”
“I suppose not. And Jack Lucas doesn’t seem likely to order a massacre on Kentares.”
“That’s a great relief to me.” John considered the world for a moment. It had fallen twice to the SLDF, if the first occupation by Baptiste’s soldiers could be counted. Only a few light years from Cartago, the headquarters of the Polymorphous Defense Zone covering the short border with the Terran Hegemony, Kentares IV was unlikely to be strategically important unless General Lucas agreed to divert forces from the advance that was slowly creeping towards New Avalon and used it as a staging area to recover Mara and David for the Draconis Combine.
“Hanse, we may be at a low point now. Our garrison on Tikonov is hanging on by its fingernails, Robinson’s still in the balance and Marlette can’t hold out much longer against Lucas’ forces.”
The redhead nodded quietly. “We’re getting near to a turning point, I agree. But just like my history, the tools we need to turn this around are pretty much in place. The Federated Suns Lancers are securing our rear areas and freeing up the regiments we need in order to turn this around.”
John swirled the remaining milk around the bottom of his mug and then set it down without drinking. “If this doesn’t work…”
“Those are the same stakes that the First Prince has to weigh every day. It’s the nature of the position.”
“I can’t help but think sometimes that you expect the Combine and Confederation to be the same wrecks you faced and don’t see they’re as much stronger now as the AFFS is compared to what you’re facing.”
Hanse laughed. “John, I was raised to believe the SLDF was a glorious invincible army that might one day come out of the periphery to restore the Star League and make everything right. Now I’m helping you fight them.”
“Is that what they thought they were doing, in your day?”
“They probably did. They were just as wrong as my teachers were. What we’re facing isn’t the Star League as it once was. Every loss Lucas takes now – both to battle and defections – is irreplaceable because no one’s really supporting him. You’ve seen the figures Reznick is turning up – the SLDF’s withering away when any rational war effort would be building it up. The only question is how long before it collapses… and the price to be paid until that happens.”
“It’s a price that will be paid by our soldiers,” John said harshly.
Hanse nodded. “It always was and probably always will be. If this was happening forty years ago, you’d be one of those young soldiers, wouldn’t you?”
The fifty-eight-year-old First Prince nodded grudgingly. Good lord, so long ago? It was less than a month until he was fifty-nine. Hanse must be… he did the maths. Almost ninety counting both his lifetime and then the years with John.
“Now we have the job of making sure those sacrifices are worthwhile.”
“And as limited as possible.” John qualified firmly.
“As possible,” agreed the ghost with just a bit of emphasis to the words. “Sorry to spoil the start of the day,” he added. “Are you going to finish closing the shirt or are you going to show your chest off to your staff this morning?”
“Haven’t you heard?” John asked, turning the mug. “I’m a rogue prince.”
.o0O0o.
Leightonville, Robinson
Draconis March, Federated Suns
20 October 2778
Two guards on the door made to stall Joshua but shrank back as he glared at them. “Open this,” he ordered.
“This is a secure space, general.”
“You know who I am and you know I’m authorised. Get it open.”
One of them raised a comm-gauntlet and Joshua reached out and grabbed it. “I didn’t say ask for permission.”
Two of Joshua’s bodyguards stepped forwards and the second guard wisely made no move to use either his comm-gauntlet or the submachinegun in his other hand. Pulling his access card out, Joshua swiped it through the lock mechanism. It bleeped defiantly.
The prince’s eyes narrowed. His access codes had been locked out. He produced a second card and this time the lights at the lock went green and bolts withdrew.
Leaving the guards to his own people, Joshua pushed the door open and stepped through into the planetary command centre.
A large holo table took up the centre of the room, the equipment recessed into the floor. Two concentric circles of raised work-stations looked down on it, offset so that all the personnel could view the centre. One of the stations on the outer ring was reserved for the senior officer present and a Sandoval was seated there, but it wasn’t Duke Vasily.
“Your highness.” Reuben Sandoval rose to his feet and bowed. “I thought you were with your division on the east coast.”
“And I thought your father was here.” Joshua decided not to mention his codes being removed from the door. It would just side-track things and he’d have to explain why he’d got a copy of the Duke of Robinson’s access codes. “With the reinforcements arriving, we need to adjust our deployments so we can really secure Solomon.”
“That’s not exactly the plan,” admitted Reuben. The heir to the Draconis March gestured to the workstation next to him. “Take a seat and I’ll brief you in.”
Joshua looked at the holo table as he worked his way around the room. There were dropships in the sky over Robinson, golden icons charting their positions and courses. Some of them bore identifiers that tallied to the expected regiments, descending from the cover of the Tancredi and her escorts. But not all of them. “A plan that involves six of my division’s dropships?”
“They’re AFFS dropships,” the other Major General replied in a reasonable tone. “Not your personal property. We didn’t have enough dropships for a brigade lift without them.”
“They’re assigned to my division. You know damn well that if they’re needed elsewhere I should be told they’re not available.”
Reuben’s eyes widened innocently. “Didn’t you receive a message? My sincerest apologies, I’ll find out who didn’t -”
“Explanation.” Joshua thumped the workstation with his fist rather than activating it. “Now.”
The other man took a deep breath. “Reinforcing our position is the expected move, General Davion. Instead, we’re adding the Seventh Robinson Chevaliers and their brigade to their force and carrying out an assault on Canaan. Elements of the Fifth Chevaliers have been moving into position to secure a drop-zone and with local superiority, we can secure the southern peninsula and wipe out the two DCMS divisions there with relative ease.”
Another look at the holo table confirmed that the dropships trajectories did seem to come together where the long, sprawling peninsula connected with the main body of the continent. If the DCMS’ positions were correct then landing there would isolate the First and Fifth Dieron Regulars from the rest of the invasion force.
“The forces there are understrength, they took losses trying to take Kedamon last month. Thanks to your quick response, intelligence assets indicate they only have around one hundred sixty ‘Mechs between the two divisions and might have lost as many as half of their infantry,” Reuben added.
Joshua nodded grimly. That matched his own understanding – although it left out that the Seventh Federated Suns Lancers had taken over a battalion of casualties and lost most of their helicopter support containing the landing long enough for the rest of the division to consolidate and force the DCMS back into their landing craft. “They might not stand and fight in that case – they should still have the transports they used to cross to Megiddo, so they could simple re-embark and join the rest of the DCMS forces outside the peninsula.”
“That wouldn’t be ideal, but we’d have liberated the southern peninsula and that would give us a foothold to begin more aggressive operations to push the DCMS off-world entirely. We aren’t the only ones who can call in reinforcements, after all.”
“And where’s your father in all of this?”
Reuben pointed into the holo tank. “Right where he should be, at the head of our forces.”
“He’s what?”
“Your father took the lead in the Border War, is it so surprising that my father would do the same?”
Joshua shook his head. “My father took command, that’s not the same thing as personally leading a division-sized drop onto hostile territory.”
He got a pitying look from Reuben. “That territory is only hostile to the Snakes, Prince Joshua. It’s Robinson soil.”
Something told Joshua that pointing out that the soil of a world more than two hundred light years from Terra probably cared very little which particular band of ape-descendants were in charge wasn’t going to be a winning argument. “I hope you’re right. If it doesn’t then almost half of our forces here are gone. You couldn’t have waited until the Dragoons got here?”
“That was the plan. Then my dear sister got delayed.”
The prince arched an eyebrow at the sarcasm. “A busted hydrogen seal can happen to anyone.”
“I haven’t seen Susan in years. She was up for a regimental command in the Chevaliers… turned it down to stay with the Crucis Dragoons.” Reuben’s face was cast into shadow as the holo-display flickered, updating with new data. “She cares about Robinson as little as your father does.”
“Watch what you say.”
“Abstractly he’d like us to succeed, but he has other priorities. Are you going to tell me I’m wrong?”
“Who do you think sent me here?”
Reuben eyed Joshua, looking for something… the Davion wasn’t sure what but he got the disturbing idea that he came up short. “Yes, not the Guards, or the Hussars. Or his new Dragoons. A division of green soldiers and SLDF deserters… He must think highly of you.”
Any response was cut off as new data appeared on the holo-display and both men turned as staff officers’ voices rose in excitement.
“Landing beacons are up!” one declared.
Another nodded. “Dropships are entering descent stage, Seventh Chevaliers are preparing for orbital drop.”
“Do we have movement by the Snakes?” asked Reuben urgently. “They must be aware of the dropships.”
“No confirmed moves, but radio traffic is up. Way up.”
Secure communication would usually be routed through satellites or landlines to avoid more obvious signs that could be picked up by the enemy. Of course, satellites were very vulnerable targets and detachments of the Fifth Robinson Chevaliers had made a point of taking out several vulnerable points of Canaan’s landline network, forcing the invaders to use radio. Megiddo and Solomon, on the other hand, still had intact landlines so their communications weren’t open in the same way.
“Good.” Reuben leant over and pointed at one of the Tower-class ships. Joshua noted it was the same Orinoco that had brought him to Robinson. “Father’s on that ship,” the commander of the March Militia reported.
“He’s dropping?”
“No, that battalion will be making planetfall – we don’t have enough jump-packs for the entire regiment and his Warhammer doesn’t have jump-jets.”
Like snowflakes, trails of tiny icons began to drop from the leading dropships – two battalions of the Seventh Robinson Chevaliers. Additional trails appeared from the some of the reinforcements – the proportion was about the same, each dropping two-thirds of their ‘Mech strength while the rest of the brigades remained with the second wave who would land in their dropships. Another pattern marked jump infantry making their own descent.
As the troops fell, beacons popped up marking Fifth Robinson Chevalier companies that had occupied the drop zone to confirm its safety. Five understrength companies had made it there.
The first wave reached the surface and Joshua noted the artistry of the location chosen – perfectly suited to minimise casualties by those dropping but with good overlooking positions that could be taken swiftly to cover for the dropships. Vasily Sandoval’s choice, no doubt.
“Movement on the peninsula,” came a report. “First Dieron Regulars confirmed as moving north. Numbers suggest that elements of the Fifth Regulars are with them.”
“They’re not withdrawing?” asked Joshua in surprise. They must realise that the dropships would land enough forces to put them in a disadvantageous position.
“Their honour compels them to face the enemy,” Reuben said sarcastically. “Either that or they think they can take on twice their number in ‘Mechs.”
“Even with intact armour and artillery that seems rather bold.” Most DCMS armoured regiments had fifty hover tanks and as many heavy tanks, backed up by twenty-five artillery pieces. While they lacked the prestige of ‘Mechs, Combine tankers loved the panache of their hover tanks and Regular formations usually sported massive Rhino and Puma heavy tanks bought from SLDF suppliers. Two artillery battalions and five of Tiger medium tanks wasn’t an ideal match for that alone but with the Chevalier’s ‘Mechs it would be more than enough.
“I’m not going to complain about them making a mistake.”
That, Joshua thought, assumed that it was a mistake. What didn’t they know about the Combine’s movements?
Or maybe he was just being paranoid.
As the dropships were reported down Joshua logged onto the workstation and pulled up the latest data on the positions of the other DCMS divisions. The Otomo, as the Coordinator’s bodyguard, were last reported around the city of Huston which probably Kurita’s headquarters. That still left the other four divisions and various smaller units.
The nearest reinforcements the Dieron Regulars could call on were the Twelfth Galedon Regulars Division, which would take at least a day to reach the area by monorail from where their hover tanks had been sighted patrolling the coast. Next was the Third Arkab Legion, currently policing some of the mining areas and a day and a half by the fastest route from their infantry outposts.
Both sightings had had ‘Mechs in support, so the odds were good that the only support the Regulars would have would be aerospace fighters from the wings their navy had landed to support them. Joshua checked the main holo-display and confirmed that they weren’t doing more than normal patrols. In any case, if they did move then the AFFS ground forces had enough aerospace support to…
Reuben frowned. “Why aren’t their aerospace assets moving?”
“I was just thinking the same,” Joshua admitted. “With the squadrons you have ready they should be able move in and intercept if they do move but right now with everything in holding patterns… no one has anything in the air over the continent. Did the dropships pick anything up as they were landing?”
“What would they pick up?”
Joshua scrolled through the data. Every sighting for the last three days of the Galedon Regulars and the Arkab Legion forces came from the Fifth Robinson Chevaliers, not from any of the other intelligence assets on Canaan that were reporting on the Dieron Regulars. “If you’re right, nothing. If not, we could have a…
He was about to say problem, but sudden red flares on the map made that word entirely insufficient.
“Hostile artillery fire!” reported an observer. “They’re firing on the dropships.”
“That area should be clear!” Reuben protested. “The Fifth swept it before we landed.”
“Nuclear detonations! Sir, the artillery’s firing Davy Crocketts!”
Joshua winced. Modern military dropships were tough but they were also large targets and in atmosphere a low yield tactical nuclear weapon like a Crockett was far more damaging than similar weapons used in space.
“Sir! We’re getting a signal from the Duke.”
Reuben Sandoval pointed at the ceiling and the technician transferred the message to the speakers.
“- Val, calling Planetary HQ. Do you read me?”
“We read you, sir,” Reuben replied quietly.
Vasily’s voice was grim. “We’ve been betrayed.” The signal crackled. “The Fifth Chevalier forces aren’t who we thought, some of them must have been captured without us knowing.”
“There are less than fifty ‘Mechs! They can’t be a threat!”
“We’re wiping them out, but their artillery has crippled our dropships. They can't take off so we’ve no way out,” the Duke told him. “The Dracs are fighting fanatically and there must be more troops on the way.”
Joshua raised his voice. “Field Marshal, this is Joshua Davion. The last reported position of the Galedon Regulars and Arkab Legion forces in the area came from the same detachments that have been compromised.”
Static burst across the line.
Reuben and Joshua exchanged looks. “Send in the aerospace,” Joshua ordered. “Maybe he can get down the peninsula to the port and take transports if we give them air cover.”
But as AFFS fighters streaked into battle, there were DCMS squadrons racing to intercept them. On the map, red lines outlined four DCMS divisions closing in on the reinforcements Vasily Sandoval had hoped would be the salvation of his world.
.o0O0o.
Geneva, Terra
Alliance Core, Terran Hegemony
27 October 2778
James McEvedy had promised to complete the restoration of the Terran Hegemony government to its traditional location in Geneva that Keith Cameron had begun after his election. It hadn’t been the most important of the former Director-General’s campaign promises but it promised some continuity between the two administrations.
Work on the Congress building was still underway – despite repeated attempts to cleanse it with everything up to and including controlled fires, the final consensus had been to tear the historic building down and rebuild it entirely. The site was currently bare and Congressional approval of some modest modernisations was expected to be done in another couple of months. Nonetheless, the executive buildings had been completed and today was the first time that McEvedy could assemble his cabinet in their chamber near the top of one of the towering buildings.
“Sit down, all of you,” he directed. “I’m not going to overdo the formality. We have work to do.”
Daniel Mattlov saw some questioning looks as he laid claim to a chair. Most of them didn’t seem to know who he was or what he was doing here but years of jostling for position in military wardrooms served him well and he secured a place opposite a woman around his own age in Hegemony Armed Forces uniform, above the midpoint of the table.
McEvedy rapped a knuckle on the table for attention and received it immediately. “Most of you know each other,” he observed. “General Hayes has attended to support me on military affairs, since I don’t have the hours in the day to manage it as closely as I once did.”
“Should we assume she’s formally taking on the duties of Commanding General?” asked the oldest man at the table. Mattlov recognised him as Jens Pinera, who’d served as Director-General during Richard Cameron’s childhood and overseen Keith Cameron’s election. The old man served as something of a minister without portfolio. Some of the rumours – Mattlov wasn’t so daft as to get into politics without getting an ear to the ground fast – suggested his position on the cabinet was more to keep his criticisms inside the government instead of becoming the focus of opposition.
“Not quite, Jens. But I’m taking your advice at last and making some changes to the command structure of the Armed Forces so I’m not overloading myself with being Director-General and Commanding General.” McEvedy leant back in his chair. “In order to handle oversee the administration and to help me to formulate military policy, I’m naming General Hayes as the Minister of the Army and Duke Mattlov as the Minster of the Navy.”
Across from Mattlov, the soldier’s brow furrowed. She didn’t seem pleased with the decision. Perhaps she hadn’t been fully briefed in? Nonetheless, she gave him a nod across the table. “I look forward to working with you, your grace.”
“You probably shouldn’t, General McEvedy didn’t bring me in for my charming disposition,” he shot back.
“So I can see.” Hayes gave him another searching look. “You have military experience?”
“Yeah. Plenty of it.”
“Flight Academy of Graham, like many fine naval officers,” Jens Pinera offered from further down the table. “I must say that this isn’t quite what I had in mind, Director-General, but the Duke of Caph’s determination will surely serve the Hegemony well in his new role.”
“I’m trying to place you, but I can’t say I’m familiar with Caph. SLDF service?”
“Eleventh Royal BattleMech Division,” Mattlov replied. “Flew in the Canopian, Rim Worlds and Hegemony. Fifty-three confirmed kills before they invalided me out before Terra.”
“Ah, a ground forces pilot. You didn’t serve with naval wings?”
He shook his head. “Worked with them, never served in one. I know what I’m doing.”
“Does the Hegemony Navy really merit having a cabinet level position?” asked a suited man. The minster for health services, Mattlov thought. What was his name, Samson? Some glorified physician who couldn’t hack actual surgery and went into administration. “No offense to his grace the Duke of Caph but twelve ships isn’t even the force that James McKenna had on hand when he formed the Hegemony.”
“A navy’s a helluva a lot more than warships,” Mattlov shot back. “And someone’s got to build it back up to something that wouldn’t disintegrate if Johnny Davion sneezed in our general direction.”
“Mmm.” McEvedy brought the room’s attention back to himself. “The Lutyen attack rather underscores that the Star League Navy can’t be everywhere at once in sufficient strength. Now, all credit to them, part of the issue with them assembling a response force was ensuring that our worlds remained sufficiently secured but that it was a Marik force that, to take them at face value, ran off the attackers doesn’t please me. That was Terran space and our navy was nowhere to be seen.”
“And how can we redress that? The SLDF is occupying every major shipyard with its own maintenance and repairs, not to mention that there’s no budget for new ships.”
“Like I said, Samson, there’s more to a fleet than warships.”
“Sampson,” the man corrected, popping the P for emphasis.
“Look, one of the things that didn’t get wrecked on Caph when it was liberated were the dropship factories. Well, not entirely. Couple of buildings got levelled but it’s a lot better than most.”
“You want a fleet of piddling little dropships?” asked Sampson. “What can they do?”
Hayes gave the man a scornful look. “Ask anyone who had to face the SDS networks. Caspars might have been the toughest nuts but there were thousands of M-3 drones that were almost as much of a problem – and isn’t that what was built on Caph?”
Faces went white around the table. Jens Pinera coughed furiously and grasped his water cup, sipping from it and then coughing up the water into a handkerchief. Everyone stopped as the elder statesman struggled and finally quelled the reaction. “I do beg your pardon,” he said humbly. “Director-General, I hope that you aren’t considering reviving the SDS drones that Amaris used.”
McEvedy gave the room a reassuring smile and Mattlov realised that he’d expected such a reaction and let it happen, sure that it would make their actual proposal seem more reasonable by comparison. “Nothing of the sort, Jens. Please accept my apologies for any concern I’ve caused you.”
“The M-3 drone was based on the SLDF’s Pentagon-class of assault dropships,” Mattlov explained. “I’ve spoken to engineering staff and it should be very easy to put the design back into mass production. A small squadron of dropships is a reasonable substitute for a corvette when it comes to patrolling orbitals and jump points – maybe not against a serious attack but a corvette wouldn’t survive that anyway.”
“A plan that brings a lot of money into your homeworld. How very providential for you.”
The Director-General smacked the table before Mattlov could respond. “That’s enough, Sampson. Daniel has no financial stakes in the dropship yards. The only reward he’ll get from the HAF buying from those yards is the respect of his people, which he deserves anyway as a SLDF veteran and a loyalist.”
The doctor paled slightly and pushed back his chair. Standing, he bowed to Mattlov. “My apologies, Duke Mattlov. My remark was ill chosen and I regret any offense I may have given.”
“I’ve heard worse.” The pilot considered a moment and then decided to yank the facts out before they were thrown in his face. “My sister Misha and her husband chose to support Amaris, you see. If the resistance hadn’t take care of it, I’d have had to see her face trial for collaboration. My family has a lot of work to do before that stain is erased.”
“Your service here is a fine start on that,” Hayes said quietly.
“Moving on to the actual agenda,” McEvedy continued. “I believe there’s some fresh news from the war fronts.”
The man next to Mattlov opened a folder. “Yes sir. Coordinator Kurita reports the capture of Duke Vasily Sandoval on Robinson. The leader of the Draconis March is presumed to be a font of knowledge about AFFS operations but there’s no sign of a collapse in Federated Suns defences so it doesn’t seem to be having an immediate effect on morale or on their command integrity.”
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Getting captured by your archenemy is new heights of avoiding a meeting with your boss, Vasily...
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Oh wow, so much happening! The raid on the naval yard and what I think is Gabriel went off well as well as apparently stealing a huge amount of nuclear weapons too. Shame the Feddies couldn't yoink some of the cripples to take back and repair.
But now its crunch time, the SLDF attack when it hits needs to be stopped, the Feddies NEED to hold on and stop their opponents from getting any steam, and with Kurita himself on Robinson..thats a HUGE morale boost for the Combine forces. The capture of the duke was almost expected, it was idiotic and he walked into a baited trap.
But as always, amazing work with the story telling and writing! :)
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Sandoval's capture tracks with the earlier outline, and was executed brilliantly. :thumbsup:
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Bathsheba, Robinson
Draconis March, Federated Suns
10 November 2778
Water churned around the legs of Susan’s Cestus as she used the harbour as cover. The black-painted ‘Mechs were probing for weaknesses and she’d already seen what happened when they found one.
Returning home to Robinson she’d hoped that the demands of the campaign would smooth over awkwardness with her family. I should be careful what I wish for, she thought. Thus far I haven’t met them. In father’s case, I may never meet him again.
Instead she’d been greeted by a terse Joshua Davion and orders to land the Fifth Crucis Dragoons and the infantry demi-brigade they’d picked up along the way where they could secure the ports needed to evacuate supplies and key personnel from Solomon. Three DCMS divisions were sweeping across the continent while the rest of the invasion force was probing Megiddo, forcing the prince’s forces and her brother’s to focus on defending the capital and Jerricho Industries’ factories there. A brevet promotion to Brigadier General didn’t really make up for putting her troops out on a limb like that.
“The ferry’s moving out,” warned Smythe.
“Noted.” Susan swept her targeting reticule across the most likely approaches. If the Draconis Combine forces managed to sink a ship while it was passing through the harbour mouth then the breakwater would effectively trap the ships that were still loading.
Vasily Sandoval’s attempt to relieve Canaan had cost the AFFS forces heavily. The Seventh, Eighth and Twenty-Second Robinson Chevaliers and their associated brigades had been killed or captured almost to a man, while the ‘betrayal’ of the forces that had supposedly prepared the drop sites made it clear that the Fifth Chevaliers were at best little more than scattered bands of survivors. It was impossible to tell anymore which of their known detachments were real and which might be more decoys.
If I’d taken dad’s offer I’d have been in command of the Twenty-Second, Susan thought. Probably I’d be dead now – or a prisoner.
Death might be preferable. There were some very unpleasant stories about what the DCMS was doing to their captives, especially women. They might just be rumours, but this wasn’t the Age of War when elaborate codes of practise had ensured prisoners could expect at least some standard of treatment and were usually exchanged or ransomed back to their home nation. The Ares Conventions had been discarded almost two hundred years ago. What was the need for an international treaty on the laws of war when everyone was part of the Star League?
Well now we know, Susan thought. Movement caught her eye. “Dragons, moving through the loading zone!” someone called even as she looked that way.
“Second Company!” she called out and side-stepped to join them. Orderly companies of a single ‘Mech type were a thing of the past – casualties had been replaced with whatever was available from depots or from battlefield salvage. Second Company had picked up a pair of ex-CCAF Thunderbolts to go with one of the Koschei that had been captured back in 2762, but the most commonality among them were four Battleaxes that had been handed over from a supply shipment they crossed paths with on the way to Robinson.
After losses on Tikonov, Susan had consolidated the Dao Dragoons down to two reinforced battalions. Both were down to just about regulation size now and with Van Dorne somewhere in the AFFS medical system being treated for burns she was short a battalion commander anyway. Bradford’s battalion were covering the last drop-port in AFFS hands on Solomon so she’d given them the dropships and marched Greaney’s battalion down to cover the sea port evacuation.
The squat shapes of DCMS Dragons moved through the wrecked containers that marked the main loading area of the harbour. Beside them the leaner and more angular shapes of Panther light ‘Mechs moved up in support. Susan centred one on her crosshairs and fired her Gauss Rifle. The black Panther side-stepped at the last moment and the slug punched through the thin sides of a cargo container behind it. Adjusting her aim, Susan fired both large lasers and one found its mark.
Rather than returning fire on her command lance or Second Company, the DCMS concentrated fire on the ferry. LRMs, particle beams and autocannon fire slashed across the harbour and it was a large target.
Most of the shots hit superstructure, with only a few scoring hits lower down where they had a better chance of sinking the ferry. It was hard to call that fortunate though, the superstructure was where the passengers were. Susan didn’t want to think about the carnage being caused.
She fired again, this time at a Dragon since the Panther had moved out of her line of sight. Both large lasers missed but her Gauss Rifle obliterated the Kurita dragon painted on one shoulder and someone else caught it just below the cockpit with a PPC. The Dragon stumbled and fell, landing behind cover.
“Push them back!” she shouted.
The heavy ‘Mechs splashed through the water towards the enemy, weapons firing. Out of the corner of her eyes she saw the ferry struggle out past the breakwater and into the open waters beyond. Smoke billowed from the superstructure, but it had made it.
Deprived of their prey, the ‘Mechs of the Otomo turned their attention to the Crucis Dragoons and autocannon shells tore into the flank of Susan’s Cestus. The flash of a PPC gave her pause, the shot hitting the water not far from her hip. If it had hit and penetrated then it could have flooded the leg – nothing but luck that it hadn’t.
“They’re pulling back!” Bradford called out. There was a vengeful eagerness to his voice. “Do we pursue?”
“Negative.” Susan shook her head and looked around, counting her ‘Mechs. “Anyone down?”
“Jerry Dean’s Warhammer’s in the drink.”
Scanning the waters, Susan spotted the ‘Mech flat on its back, one PPC still sticking up. As she watched the head of the MechWarrior emerged from beneath the waves that the moving ‘Mechs had kicked up, treading water. Sensibly, he stayed well away from the still steaming PPC of his Warhammer.
“Someone pick him up,” she ordered and headed that way herself since there weren’t all that many ‘Mechs in Second Company which had hands. The two Thunderbolts joined her and once Dean was clear they dragged the seventy-ton war machine upright. A landing craft chugged over and the three ‘Mechs hoisted the damaged ‘Mech over and onto it. If they got it back to Megiddo then the water damage could probably be made good. Until that was done she’d either have to accept being down another ‘Mech.
Maybe I can pull some strings and get some new ‘Mechs from Jerricho Industries, Susan thought. The Swordsman isn’t a great BattleMech and lighter than most of our line ‘Mechs, but they’re a lot better than nothing.
From the harbour wall, LRMs arced up into the sky and began to rain down on something outside her view.
“Gav, talk to me!”
“Hovercraft coming after the ships,” Greaney replied. She could hear his Longbow shake as he fired after a volley. “More than twenty of them – Sabaku Kaze.”
“Son of a bitch.” The blazingly fast hovercraft had been making coastal raids on Bathsheba’s outskirts for the last two days but this was the first time they’d come into range of the harbour. “Keep them off the ships.” There were only two more ships taking on passengers – freighters pressed into service. Once they were clear the Crucis Dragoons could get onto their own landing craft and evacuate.
“Working on it.”
What next? She thought. Attacking from the shore, from the sea… “Air Defense, keep your eyes peeled for fighters!”
She had seven Blackjacks left and they were spread out to maximise their fields of fire. The light autocannon would be excellent deterrent against helicopters or jet aircraft, both of which the DCMS had shown they had operating in support of their ground forces. The problem would be if…
“You called it, colonel,” one of the MechWarriors announced. “I have two pairs of aircraft coming from the west. Too big to be airbreathers.”
Aerospace fighters, damn! Their armour made the Blackjack’s autocannon an acceptable risk, particularly if they were…
As if summoned by her thoughts, a pair of arrowheads slashed through the sky, seemingly ignoring the lines of tracer that rose up towards them from the Blackjacks. SL-15 Slayers, heavily armoured for just this sort of air-strike. Susan tilted her Cestus backwards and fired up into the sky, hoping.
Maybe it was the Blackjacks exceeding her expectations or maybe she got lucky. She’d never know, but something must have found the fuel tank because one of the Slayers blew up suddenly, several tons of hydrogen blasting it to smithereens. Rocked in the air, the other fighter broke off.
“Great shooting!” Greaney called.
Smythe was more negative, but also more on point. “Look out for the other pair!”
Perhaps it was in response to the kill or perhaps it had been their plan anyway but the other two Slayers didn’t try for the ships. Instead each dropped a pair of bombs over the position of one of the Blackjacks. They went off like fire-crackers, scoring the armour and wrecking what was left of the green and black paint.
One of the bombs must have been more crack than fire though, for when the smoke cleared the cockpit had been torn open.
Another ‘Mech for the technicians to salvage, Susan thought grimly. But one less MechWarrior to find another ride for.
.o0O0o.
Atreus City, Atreus
Marik Commonwealth, Free Worlds League
11 November 2778
Carl Marik hid his… not fears, his concerns, he decided… as he stood beside his father’s chair. The last two months of black moods on the part of the Captain-General reminded him of some of the worst stories of grandfather – but unlike Ewan Marik, Carl’s father was fuelled less by alcohol and more by bitterness. He’d sharpened his tongue on everyone at least once in the last few weeks, from the most junior staff to his own family.
“Captain-General,” a servant murmured. “Lord Carl. General Bradley awaits your pleasure.”
Kenyon Marik gestured sharply. “Send him in.”
Crisply uniformed, Carl thought that Ezra Bradley cut a fine figure as a soldier as he crossed the threshold. The record of the commander of the SLDF’s garrisons in the Free Worlds League had been made available as a matter of course and it was one of excellence. Command of the Third Regimental Command Team before the war, policing the Draconis Combine’s border with the Lyran Commonwealth. Then service in the Outworlds Alliance and Rim Worlds Republic, reforming battered troops around his elite regiments until they were recognised as an ad hoc division. Fighting in the Terran Hegemony and on Terra himself had brought Bradley up to the command of Sixteenth Army when the force was redeployed out to begin re-establishing the SLDF presence here.
An unworthy part of Carl wondered if his father envied Bradley for the rank and status he held, positions he had once aspired to as an SLDF officer.
“General,” the Captain-General greeted the man evenly. “Come in and take a seat.”
Bradley saluted crisply and crossed to the couch facing the two Mariks. Kenyon’s armchair subtly suggested a throne but there was otherwise a front of affable informality to the setting. “Captain-General. Lord Marik.”
Carl was tempted to salute but doubted his father would appreciate it. Instead he bowed his head to the SLDF officer. “A pleasure to meet you again, General.”
“That’s kind of you to say, but I believe the Captain-General invited me for reasons of business not pleasure.”
“Indeed.” Kenyon steepled his fingers. “The Stalingraders and the business on Helm.”
Bradley’s lips curled slightly. “Deserters. What loyalty can one expect?”
“And yet it was an SLDF facility that they looted before they darted. A facility that, curiously, the SLDF hadn’t advised my government of. Should I expect that there are other bases such Nagayan Mountain secreted away within the League?”
“Are you referring, sir, to the Free Worlds League or to the Star League? I have not been briefed as to any in the first case, but as I hadn’t been informed of the Nagayan Castle Brian that may not be conclusive. Certainly there are secret bases in the Terran Hegemony so it wouldn’t be beyond plausibility that others exist outside of the Hegemony worlds.”
“Bases such as this Freedom Station where my navy caught up with the traitors,” Kenyon noted sharply. “A secret naval base that John Davion seemed quite familiar with since his fleet assaulted it as a prelude to rendezvousing with the Stalingraders.”
“The Lutyen repair yards are an excellent example, yes.”
Carl glanced at his father as the SLDF general refused to be drawn. “I’m surprised that the SLDF feels secrets should be kept from the Star League Council.”
“It’s a question of need to know, Lord Marik, although not in quite the normal definition. Whereas I might not be informed for reasons of security, barring operational need of course; the Council deals with enormous amounts of information already. To keep that to manageable levels I would expect such fine details to not always reach the summaries of briefings.”
“A vast arsenal of weapons of mass destruction hidden beneath the surface of one of our worlds?”
“It’s hardly a secret we have such arsenals.” Bradley made it all sound quite reasonable. “And nothing but common sense that their exact locations are a matter of great confidentiality.”
“Be that as it may, there have been questions raised in parliament,” Kenyon announced harshly. “The Stalingraders had been SLDF forces and there remain many SLDF divisions based on League worlds, many encamped at wartime readiness.”
“I shall assume you mean the Free Worlds League?” asked Bradley with the first sign of annoyance so far.
Father’s getting to him, Carl thought triumphantly.
“The circumstances of their basing,” the general continued, “Are more or less unavoidable since virtually all of the bases which once housed SLDF garrisons have, shall we say, changed hands since 2765.”
“A rather short-sighted decision,” Kenyon said sharply. “It’s not conducive to good order and it’s raising alarm among the noble lords of the League. It must end.”
“Are you going to give the bases back?”
“I can hardly justify that given the investments my government and many of our provincial governments have made. However, there would be no issue with opening them for the use of the soldiers in question if certain matters of the chain of command were resolved.”
Bradley seemed to relax on the couch but his eyes were sharp. “Forgive me for being obtuse but I don’t quite follow your point.”
Carl’s father leant forwards. “SLDF units operating from FWLM or provincial military bases will accept direction from those military authorities.”
There was no immediate reply. Instead Bradley examined Kenyon and then Carl. The younger Marik could sense a test of wills in the room. The SLDF officer spoke first but from the way the corner of his lips curled, it wasn’t clear if Bradley was conceding the challenge or if he felt he had made his point. “That would appear to confuse the chain of command.”
“Nonetheless I must require it for all SLDF forces operating within the League. I won’t allow another situation like Helm.”
“The Stalingraders, as I understand it, were under the ‘direction’ of the Stewart Dragoons,” Bradley observed. “Which are in turn either under the command of Earl Stewart or of your mutual cousin General Amelia Stewart-Marik, depending on interpretation or circumstance.”
The Captain-General arched his eyebrow. “Hardly relevant, since they rebelled.”
“If may ask them, what is your intention should SLDF forces not comply with these conditions?”
“They will be treated as mutineers,” Kenyon said without hesitation. “Which is to say that they will be cut off from supplies, isolated and – being a peace-loving people – we will appoint negotiators to persuade them to lay down their arms. Of course, this does not apply to soldiers departing the League before the end of the year to support General Lucas’ offensive into the Federated Suns. Perhaps with reinforcements he will accomplish more than his limited advance so far.”
Bradley nodded thoughtfully. “I will, of course, need to confirm these instructions with General Lucas and with the Star League Council.”
“Of course.” He received a dismissive gesture from Carl’s father. “I believe you will find that Archon Steiner is issuing similar instructions to your counterpart in the Commonwealth. You are dismissed, General.”
Bradley rose and saluted. “Indeed.”
Carl watched him march out of the door and when he looked down, his father was looking up at him. “Take a seat, Carl.” There was a cool calculation to the words that had been absent for a while from Kenyon’s manner. “Your thoughts?”
He moved to where Bradley had been seated. “The SLDF still has more than ten divisions in the League, sir. Isolating them would be require significant redeployments.”
“Ten divisions and four independent regiments which Bradley no doubt fondly considers as a rebirth of his beloved regimental combat team.” Kenyon shook his head. “The units I need are already in place, one does not close a trap until one is ready. The bulk of four divisions have been sounded out and will accept FWLM directions to relocate to cover our border with the Canopians and the Capellans. Three brigades have been approached by provincial authorities. I anticipate perhaps eighteen regiments will bolt for Kerensky – our agents within SLDF personnel have been adjusting rosters to concentrate his partisans in specific units.” He smiled coldly. “Some of them may even make it to the Rim Worlds past our naval patrols.”
Carl counted. “Leaving forty or so regiments spread across six of the divisions? What of them?”
“Lucas needs the troops. I expect some negotiation of my deadline but the bulk will be gone within four months and Bradley with them.”
He looked at his father. “Is it wise to push them?”
“The Sixteenth Army has been wrung out as far as they can be,” his father told him. “The SLDF should not have been allowed to grow to the point it had. Once the Federated Suns is reclaimed, what remains will be a more manageable size. If the Council have yet to accept my qualifications as First Lord, at least we are broadly in agreement that the SLDF cannot be allowed to play kingmaker.”
-
Leightonville, Robinson
Draconis March, Federated Suns
19 December 2778
“General Sandoval is here, sir.”
Joshua leant back in his chair and rubbed his eyes. He wasn’t looking forward to this. “Send him in.”
The door swung open and Reuben Sandoval marched in, coming to attention in front of the desk with the precision of a parade ground – or of an academy cadet who’d not had the edges smoothed yet. On a forty-five-year-old Major General it was taking punctiliousness to an extreme. “Major General Sandoval reporting, General Davion, sir.”
“At ease,” Joshua replied automatically, which led to an only fractional shift in the other man’s posture. He’d been acting like this ever since orders from New Avalon bumped Joshua up a rank to take charge of Robinson’s defence. Nothing that was out of place by regulation, nothing the younger man could formally complain about, but also the exact minimum of engagement with anyone outside of the Robinson March Militia or the Third Robinson Chevaliers. “Take a seat.”
“I prefer to stand, sir.”
“I very much doubt you’ll want to be standing for this, Reuben.”
“Nonetheless, sir.” There was a subtle challenge there. Would Joshua make it an order, let himself get trapped in the box of petty disciplinarian?
Joshua gave him a long look. “As you wish. Seven days ago, a MI6 team was put ashore on Canaan with orders to try to infiltrate the DCMS headquarters at Huston. With the Otomo operating on the frontlines it was hoped that security might be low enough for them to extricate the Duke of Robinson.”
Opposite the desk, the younger Sandoval tensed. His lips parted but he bit back a question.
“The mission was an overall failure,” Joshua continued quietly. “One of the operatives managed to reach a communications relay and send a partial report before he was killed. The bulk of the details aren’t immediately relevant, but I regret to advise that your father has been reported as dead.”
That broke Reuben’s veneer. “How?” he demanded, lunging forwards to lean across the desk. “How did he die?”
“The report says he had a massive heart attack as they left the detention centre. According to Ministry of Intelligence reports, some chemical interrogation regimes used by the ISF can lead to or exacerbate heart problems.” He shrugged helplessly. “We’ll try to get more information, your grace.”
The major general’s shoulders stiffened at the last two words. Very slowly he pulled back from the desk, looking down at Joshua. “Your regrets are… are…”
“If you and your sister need some time, I can make arrangements. We may be at war but I can’t imagine what you’re feeling right now.”
“Your father’s war,” Reuben replied coldly. “Which he started, against all reason. A war that’s cost thousands of lives already. No, I’m sure you really can’t imagine how I feel about this.”
Joshua tamped down on the instinctive anger. “Given your bereavement, I’ll let that pass, Sandoval.”
An ugly smile crossed the older man’s face. “That’s no way to talk to a Field Marshal, General. With father’s death I’m Duke of Robinson now, which makes me both Marshal and Minister for the Draconis March.”
“Subject to the High Council’s approval.”
“We both know that that’s a rubber stamp these days. They’d never dare refuse me my rights.”
“They’re not rights, Duke Reuben. They’re responsibilities.”
“Are you suggesting that I don’t know that, General?” Reuben hadn’t returned to his former parade-rest stance. His feet were spread slightly, weight balanced as if ready for… what? “I asked you a question, general. Answer me.”
“If this is how you interact with any officer – regardless of where you and they may stand in the chain of command,” Joshua replied carefully, “Then you need to consider the weight of those responsibilities more carefully.”
“That doesn’t answer my question!” the duke snapped.
“We both know it does.”
With a snarl, Reuben threw himself onto the desk and grabbed hold of Joshua by the front of his uniform jacket and heaving him up and out of his chair. Startled at the physical assault, the prince tried to brace himself but the chair over-balanced underneath him and he crashed to the floor dragging the Sandoval over onto him, the contents of his desk crashing down around them.
The two men wrestled for position, Joshua gasping for breath as he felt other man’s arm pressing against his throat. With a convulsive jerk he brought his knee up. Sandoval twisted reflexively and caught the kick against his thigh not his groin but he had to release the younger man’s neck.
“What the - ?” he tried to protest, catching Reuben’s wrists. Dammit, where was his security? He’d wanted some privacy for the conversation but they shouldn’t be entirely out of earshot.
Reuben slammed his head down butting the prince full in the face. Joshua felt his nose break an instant before the back of his head struck the floor and stars filled his vision.
An inability to breath gathered his wits and he realised Reuben was strangling him again. Scrabbling with his hands for something to use, he found an ornamental letter opener and wrapped his hand around it, not caring that the last two fingers were around the blade. Bringing his arm around sharply he stabbed the duke shallowly in the back, his tough jacket resisting the penetration.
The other man screamed but didn’t loosen his stranglehold. Desperately, Joshua forced the little blade deeper and twisted. Reuben screamed again and twisted, trying to force his arm inside the arc of Joshua’s.
There was a thump as the door opened and sound of boots. Strong hands pulled Joshua’s hand away from the letter opener and a second later he could breathe again.
“Let me go, damn you!” Reuben was shouting. “Damn you, Davion. You killed my father, you killed all our fathers!”
“Your highness?”
Joshua managed to focus and saw the face of one of his bodyguards. “Ye-yu…” he tried to speak and broke off, coughing.
The man nodded and looked away. “Get a medical team!”
Sandoval was still shouting but Joshua found it hard to make out what he was saying. It didn’t matter anyway.
Something slapped his face lightly. “Stay with me, sir. You may have a concussion.”
Had he closed his eyes? He must have. Joshua forced them open. The guard was still there.
“Medics are on the way. We’ve restrained Sandoval. Do you have any orders?”
Christ, who was in charge? Joshua thought in a sudden panic. Both divisional commanders were out of action. “Sa-sandoval’s…”
“We have him, sir. He won’t get a second shot at you.”
He shook his head and regretted it immediately as stabbing pain rewarded him. “No. Sister. Susan… Brigadier.”
“Brigadier Sandoval? Crucis Dragoons?”
“Yes!” Joshua managed. “Tell her... she’s in - in charge.”
He saw the bodyguard nod before a paramedic replaced him at Joshua’s side.
.o0O0o.
Crossmolina Highlands, Defiance
Crucis March, Federated Suns
20 December 2778
The view from this height was spectacular. There was a stark majesty to the Crossmolina Highlands and if they lay nearer to the population centres then the AFFS might have had to fight off local tourism in order to secure the high mountains and the forests of native trees for their purposes.
Fortunately, Defiance had few population centres and less tourism so right at the moment Alexandra Davion and the other one hundred and ninety-six members of her provisional battalion only needed to share the view with each other and the dropship above and behind them.
The distance to the dropship was increasing, the distance to the soaring peaks dropping. Actually, the two were in more or less constant separation and Alexandra was plunging down and into the atmosphere. As the wind bit around her, a corona of flame emerged from the resulting friction.
Like a great many jump infantry officers, Alexandra considered parachuting, paragliding and all variations to be a sport as well as her job. It was a sad reflection of the responsibilities of rank, she thought, that laughing in delight would probably be inappropriate for the dignity of an AFFS Major. This was the most fun she’d had since… well, since last week when they’d carried out the first company-sized drop.
Her helmet had a compressed 360 degree display just above her main field of vision so rather than twisting her head she only had to look up a bit in order to check the formation of the battalion. All the troops were experienced in drops and they maintaining position well, she noted with approval. Relaxing she cut her microphone and let out an excited whoop.
Eventually, all too soon, the horizon engulfed them and it became possible to make out the forests in more detail. The landing zone was a cleared swathe in a valley between two peaks. Unfortunately, it was also about three kilometres north of where Alexandra estimated they were actually coming down. A fairly minor mistake by the drop crew – just the wind alone could have pushed them away from the target zone.
Alexandra considered and then switched channels. “Drop command, this is Major Davion. We’re off target. I can have the troops adjust their descent or we can try for a rough landing in the hills.”
“Acknowledged, Major.” But there was no other immediate reply. She watched the altimeter scroll down with a slight smile. She’d prefer to try the rough landing and the longer she was kept waiting the less chance there was of diverting back to the original site.
“Major Davion.” The voice in the channel snapped her attention back away from the scenery. “Drop command approves the rough landing. Carry on.”
“Roger, drop command.” Back on the battalion channel she gave the necessary instructions and her troopers began whatever preparations they felt necessary (prayers or curses mostly) before ground rushed up at them.
Terminal velocity was terminal velocity unless you had some sort of gliding mechanism, so the principles were one Alexandra had used hundreds of times before. Adjust posture to point your feet at the ground – her gear was balanced to make that easy enough – and fire the thruster she was wearing on her back at the proper height.
The thrust seemed to wrench her upwards for a minute as her descent velocity bled away and then she bent her legs slightly, letting them absorb the impact as she hit the ground and rolled flat. That part felt different because there are limits to how flat you can go when you’re wearing not just battle-dress utilities and all the usual gear but an armoured suit that weighs most of a ton.
As Alexandra climbed back to her feet she saw the troopers of her battalion doing the same. They looked less like the men and women she knew and more like a cross between automatons and knights from the distant past of Terra, wearing the heavy suits they called Jacks. Above their shoulders the bulbous twin cylinders of the jump-jets rose up obviously and each bore a long, weighty machinegun strapped to one arm – something they couldn’t have supported without the myomers of the suit to help carry the mass.
“Do we have any injured or missing?” she asked.
Squad and platoon leaders checked and Alexandra was pleased that everyone seemed to be here and no one had managed to immobilise themselves. On past experience it was pretty rare to drop a battalion of jump troopers and not have at least a sprained ankle, if not one or two broken limbs even in a level landing zone much less a rocky slope like this one. Chalk up one more advantage for the Jacks.
“Move out then,” she ordered. “Head for the drop site. Jump jets until we reach the treeline and then we go quiet. Our little diversion probably means that the opforce will reach it before we do.”
The troopers fanned out into a pyramidal combat front – two leading companies, each with two platoons in front and the third behind to act as a reserve, then Alexandra’s command squad and behind them the third company in the same basic deployment as the other two.
The jump jets had had a chance to recharge after the drop and soon they were clattering down the slope, suits bursting into the air for short arcs – most often with squad members leap-frogging each other. Combined with the myomer-driven limbs they crossed the kilometre of rough ground in only a few minutes and faded into the trees.
All of them had camouflage patterns on their suits now – the first few drops had been bare-metal except for markings and yellow and black hatching across panel edges, hardly fit for combat. They didn’t quite fade into the trees the way unaugmented troops could have but they made a much better showing that a ‘Mech or tank would have.
Only a few minutes later the fact was born out as a hissed comment was relayed from one trooper to the next – the opfor, a patrol of four Wasp BattleMechs, had been sighted and didn’t seem to have detected her battalion in return.
“Right, don’t drop your guard,” she ordered. “Remember, they’re from the Second Guards’ scout company. If these particular MechWarriors haven’t seen us in action yet, their buddies must have warned them.”
There was an explosive sound on the comm channel.
“What was that?”
There was an embarrassed silence and then: “Sorry. I don’t think they noticed.”
“Danny,” an amused voice asked. “Did you just sneeze into your helmet?”
“Yes Jack.”
“Is it…”
“Yes Jack. It’s everywhere.”
Alexandra shook her head. “Danny, decontam that when we get back to base and write it up for the post-action report. You might be the first man to sneeze inside these things, you won’t be the last.”
“Imagine if he barfed.”
“You can write that up yourself,” Alexandra instructed. “Right, now that comedy hour is over, let’s take out these ‘Mechs.”
In what she herself considered a tremendous display of restraint, Alexandra remained in reserve as the Jacks moved up through the trees. Magscan would pick them up, but because they were so much smaller than ‘Mechs, it was unlikely a dispersed formation would be detected until they were close enough.
The four Wasps were all considerably faster than a Jack, capable of over ninety-kph on open ground like the landing site and their jump jets could throw them up to a hundred and eighty metres if necessary. Both performance figures dropped markedly as squads of troopers leapt onto them and secured their position with mag-clamps.
One of them had clearly been listening as he shouted “Dropping and rolling!” on his speakers before doing so – the warning mandated by the test to avoid actual casualties. The seven suits attached immediately kicked free, fell to the floor and played dead. Simulations and a practical test with a crash-dummy inside a Jack made it clear that when twenty tons of ‘Mech belly-flopped onto a suit it wasn’t good for the man or woman wearing the suit.
Two others tried to brush off the Jacks as the suits fired blanks from their machineguns into the thin rear armour. It wasn’t doing very much good, even when one of the Wasps fired its medium laser into a Jack at point blank range – the tuned down laser barely scratched the paint and even the simulated damage wasn’t a kill.
The last Wasp simply froze up as one of the Jacks clamped itself onto the face of the cockpit and pointedly held a brick-shaped object against the canopy.
Alexandra checked the unit markings. Jack’s squad. Naturally. “Sammy, what are you up to?”
“Demo charge, major.”
“Simulated?”
“Uh…”
“Don’t worry, there’s no actual detonator,” Jack promised. “I removed it personally.”
“Good.” Alexandra looked at where the Wasp trying to stand found itself the target of over a dozen machineguns at point blank range, which was ripping apart its light armour according to the sim, and then back at the other Wasp which was slowly raising both arms unthreateningly into the air. “Very good. Let him out of his ‘Mech.”
The MechWarrior exited the ‘Mech in a rush, face pale and with good reason as Jack considerately helped him to the ground. Danny’s suit thrust itself head first into the open cockpit and the soldier came out a moment or two later waving a roll of toilet paper triumphantly.
Alexandra shook her head. “A reasonable ransom, Danny, but make sure we’re somewhere secure before you crack your helmet and clean it out.”
Another glorious day in the AFFS, she thought wryly. And that demo-pack – where were they carrying it and should it become doctrine? She could envisage more questionnaires in her future.
-
Toilet paper... that's going in the SOP for sure.
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I was wondering when we would see something more about the Jack, either its development or deployment. We got a nice teaser awhile back about the early stage development but then things were pretty quiet regarding it. I wasn't sure if we would see it preparing for deployment until after the full collapse of the Star League had taken place. Boy, that is going to be one heck of a surprise for the FedSuns' enemies. :thumbsup:
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:thumbsup: Overall its been a very nice story!! Looks like the Sandoval family will be under MIIO and DMI surveillance for the next several generations after the debacle of its male leaders. Looking forward to see if there will be an update to see how Susan Sandoval interacts with her brother who is in jail for attempted murder.
I wonder what CG J Lucas will do when he gets the ultimatum from both leadership of the LC and FWL? Wonder what Kerensky will do when he hears this?
Again great story!!!
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I wonder if Lucas will just leave and join Kerensky after the LC and FWL no longer support the SLDF.
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I wonder if Lucas will just leave and join Kerensky after the LC and FWL no longer support the SLDF.
In canon Jack Lucas went and became governor of Errai after the Liberation of Terra. After that, with the start of the First Succession War on the horizon, he left politics and became a Jesuit priest for the parishes of Errai and Northwind. He would spend 40 years as a reverend before passing away at the age of 106 on December 9, 2831.
-
Toilet paper... that's going in the SOP for sure.
at least baby wipes
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Leightonville, Robinson
Draconis March, Federated Suns
4 January 2779
John knew he looked hollow-eyed. Rushing from New Avalon to Robinson had reminded him he was no longer young enough to shrug off repeated jumps in succession. Anticipation of the next jump had left him unable to sleep easily even where there had been hours between them and the eight-hour transit from the Robinson-Bethel proximity point to the surface had been his first decent night’s sleep for a week.
Apparently even the prospect of intercept by the Draconis Combine was less worrying than hyperspace, Hanse had quipped. Of course, with the Tancredi as his escort he was as safe as he could ask for and the Remagen, was near enough to reinforce if needed. The two carriers would be busy covering more arrivals over the next few weeks as more reinforcements finally became available.
The office he was using was the same one his son had been using but unlike Joshua he had guards in the room as well when Reuben Sandoval was brought in. The duke wasn’t shackled but he wasn’t wearing a belt or the MechWarrior spurs on his boots. His pants didn’t seem likely to fall down but from the way Reuben hitched them up impatiently, without a belt they were hanging lower than he was comfortable with.
“What am I going to do with you?” John asked, half-rhetorically.
Reuben didn’t meet his eyes. “I... imagine I’ll face a court martial sir.”
“Do you want one? It would be a hell of a scandal for your family. Not exactly the sort of thing the March needs. Given that only you and Joshua were here it would be your word against his.”
“I… don’t dispute striking him, sir.”
“Striking him? I gather it was more strangling.” John glared over the desk. “You lost your temper and you tried to murder my son. Given that he’s confirmed as my heir, any halfway competent prosecutor could hang a high treason charge on that. I’d have to drag you back to New Avalon to find enough senior officers to form a jury, turning the entire thing into a circus. You want that?”
“I wasn’t aware there was an alternative,” the younger man said in confusion.
“My wife wants me to throw the book at you. Joshua may be a grown man now but he’s still her son. If I was in a more vindictive mood I could probably have you stoned to death with lawbooks, but that would harken back to some of my less admirable ancestors. Perhaps she’ll be satisfied with medical reports about you pissing blood.”
That got a pained look. According to medical reports, Joshua’s impromptu stabbing had penetrated one of Reuben’s kidneys. Quick medical attention meant he hadn’t lost it but he’d spent most of the last couple of weeks in a hospital bed.
“Rein it in, John,” warned Hanse. “If he loses his temper again then you’ll have to follow through with the court martial. And don’t bring up his father.”
John paused and shook his head. “I suggest you throw yourself on my mercy while I still have some.”
“You mean… informal unit discipline? As if we were a couple of enlisted men who got into a drunken punch-up?”
“It’s about the level of maturity I’m seeing from you. Of course, I generally expect more from senior officers than from junior enlisted.”
Reuben paled at the reminder. “Thank you, sir. I’ll accept informal discipline.”
John kept him sweating for a long moment before nodding. “Since you admit to initiating the… fight… I’m reducing you in rank to Colonel. Busting you two grades is more than I’d do if you and Joshua were sergeants but as I said, more is expected at your rank.”
“Yes sir.”
“Obviously that’s not compatible with the customary promotion to Field Marshal so I’ll appoint someone else as Marshal of the Draconis March until such time as it seems you can be trusted to keep your head. If you have a candidate in mind, I’ll consider their qualifications…?”
Reuben stared at him, blinking.
When it seemed that he wouldn’t say anything, John shrugged. “Think it over -”
“Sorry, sir. My sister, Brigadier Sandoval. I think your son would endorse her.”
“Colonel of the Fifth Crucis Dragoons,” Hanse reminded John. “Went from lance commander to battalion command in the border war, served in the Hegemony as in command of a demi-brigade. Brigadier is a recent brevet but probably overdue and Joshua put her in charge until you got here.”
John feigned consideration for Reuben’s sake as he listened to Hanse. He remembered Susan Sandoval being mentioned in despatches as far back as the Border War – and both his son and Michael Stopec thought highly of her. “A good officer and politically it would be preferable to appoint a member of House Sandoval. I’ll offer her the post.”
“Thank you, sir.”
“Don’t thank me, I’m not done yet. I’m also deferring your appointment as Minister of the Draconis March. More specifically, I want you to spend a couple of years on New Avalon learning the ropes at the ministry offices there. And of course, good luck avoiding my wife while you’re there. I had to drop all the Christmas and New Year formalities on her while I came here so she has two very good reasons to be annoyed with you.”
“Two years, sir?”
“Yes. I don’t think you’ve left the Draconis March in years as I understand it. Broadening your horizons may do you good and Thomas Green-Davion can handle the Ministerial responsibilities in your absence.”
“He won’t thank you for that,” Hanse noted.
Reuben looked subdued. “I accept the punishment, sir,” he said repentantly. “It was wrong of me to take out my anger on Prince Joshua and you’re being fair.”
“I try to be.” John rose to his feet and walked to the door. “You don’t think I was right to withdraw from the Star League, I hear?”
There was a pause. “No sir. It’s killed tens of thousands of our soldiers. And for what?”
“Do you think the Star League has a future?”
The younger man paused. “I don’t know, sir. But now we have to fight them and we’re terribly outnumbered.”
“You went to an academy, Sandoval. Surely you know the weakness of a divided command? And most of the Star League Council have military training, but they still can’t agree on a First Lord to lead them in war. Jack Lucas is a subordinate commander, not the commander-in-chief. And large portions of the DCMS and CCAF are stationed to watch their borders with the Lyrans and the Free Worlds League, neither of which has offered more than token support.”
“That still leaves the SLDF, sir. And frankly, while we might have held the Capellans and Draconians back, Lucas’ advance is half-way to New Avalon.”
“Yes, the most aggressive commander in the SLDF and fielding more than thirty divisions he’s taken less than thirty worlds in a year – two years if we count the advance under Baptiste. In ’67 I took six SLDF divisions and we took seven worlds in four months. The fact is that the SLDF is a shadow of its former self,” John pointed out. “Your father complained about Proserpina, but together with Tikonov it provides me with the secure forward bases I need to threaten the flanks of Lucas’ advance and forces the Combine and Confederation to look to their own defences. I don’t intend to lose Robinson, but I don’t think your father understood that strategically it’s a sideshow.”
“But why fight them at all? Why not just wait until it collapses? Why be the first to move?”
John considered and then turned, looking at Hanse for a moment before giving Reuben his full attention. “Because we’re too evenly balanced. If the League collapses from squabbling over the leadership we could be fighting for decades without a resolution. But if it fails to stand then the wars that follow will be for individual causes, conflicts between two realms not a pointless five-sided struggle for dominance that no one can win and that everyone will lose.”
.o0O0o.
Atreus City, Atreus
Marik Commonwealth, Free Worlds League
21 January 2779
Carl had been up late the previous evening – the banquet to congratulate his younger brother on promotion to Captain in the Free Worlds League Navy had run long and the drink had flowed. After capping the speeches by announcing that Thaddeus would be taking command of the brand-new League-class destroyer Ospina, his father had retired early. There was a distinct lack of sympathy in Kenyon’s eyes as Carl gulped down black coffee provided by a steward.
“Getting enough sleep is one of those things you’ll value more than drinking once you’re Captain-General,” his father told him – more of a command than a prediction, he thought.
“I didn’t drink that much. I was talking shop with a couple of Regulan officers into the small hours.”
“Even small talk has to be scheduled at times. There are only twenty-three and a half hours in a local day.”
“That’s something in favour of running affairs of state from Marik,” Carl offered in jest. While the Atrean day was a little shorter than Terran standard, the time taken for homeworld of their family to rotate was almost exactly twenty-five hours.
Kenyon gave the jest a slight smile. “That’s a more honourable reason to do so than some I’ve heard,” he conceded. “But the heart of the League’s government is here, Parliament and the ministries, so we should never be away for too long even if an extra hour and a half tempts us.”
“Gentlemen, the Grand Duke of Oriente,” a staffer Carl didn’t know warned.
“Thank you, Collins.” His father wasn’t similarly at a loss and rose a moment before the door admitted Carter Allison.
The Grand Duke was only a few years older than Carl and had inherited recently – his father Cedro had only ruled for a little over two decades, inheriting late in life from his own father. Had this been a social occasion, the woman on his arm wouldn’t have been surprising – Allison was probably the most eligible man in the League since Carl and Thaddeus had married – but this was a business meeting.
“My lords Marik.” Allison shook their hands briskly. “May I introduce Julia Hughes, my principal economic advisor.”
The both shook hands with her and Kenyon asked: “Any relation to Edward Hughes?”
“He’s my uncle, sir.” She shrugged her shoulders. “The Bureau of Star League Affairs might not offer my family a route of advancement but there are other patrons who find a background in economics, particularly in interstellar trade, to be valuable.”
“How very forward thinking. We can’t prosper by clinging to the past in favour of the situation we face.” Although his father sounded approving, Carl thought that before the day was out a detailed dossier on Ms. Hughes would be on the Captain-General’s desk.
David Stewart and Elsa Cameron-Jones arrived shortly, the Duchess of Regulus with an aide of her own – Jared Humphreys, who Carl knew slightly from his time at Princefield Military Academy where they’d been a year apart. A nod from Kenyon had the door closed and they took seats around the table.
“I called you here to discuss these.” Kenyon dropped a dollar bill on the table and then followed it with a three more banknotes that Carl didn’t recognise.
Glancing at his father for permission he picked them up and sorted through them. “Concordat Bull, Alliance Escudo, Federated Suns Pound,” he identified them.
“Secessionist currencies?” asked Allison. “What’s your point?”
“According to some of our more recent intelligence on the economics of the realms in question, these two trade at about equal level,” Kenyon told them, holding up the dollar and taking the bull back from Carl. “It’s been assumed that the damage done to the Concordat in ’65 and ’66 would cripple them economically but they seem to be clawing their way out of that and with the inflation we’ve seen over the last few years the dollar has been slumping.”
“Does that mean we should expect the Magistracy to be setting up their own currency?” asked Cameron-Jones. “I know there’s still some trade going on across the border, a smuggling ring was caught late last year and they’re facing tax evasion charges as well as treason.”
“It seems likely but that’s not quite where I’m going with that.” Kenyon took the other two bills. “The escudo isn’t quite on par with the bull but if the dollar keeps slipping then before long it’ll have the same worth as this periphery toilet paper.”
Carl saw Hughes’ eyes narrow. “May I ask where the Federated Suns pound stands, Lord Marik? I’d understood that it dropped compared to the dollar after Lord Davion introduced it.”
“Dipped, yes. But while none of these can buy what a dollar could have bought back when I first inherited the leadership of the League, the pound is currently the strongest currency in the Inner Sphere by a margin I find uncomfortable.”
“How have they managed that?” asked Allison.
“Their inflation is about one and a half percent lower than the Star League’s average,” Stewart told him. The Earl rubbed his chin. “Ms. Hughes, the dollar was extremely stable for most of my lifetime and probably before. Why are we seeing the slide now?”
The young woman looked uncomfortable. “My understanding is that the stability required constant fine-tuning of the money-supply on planetary, national and league-wide levels by the BSLA, Lord Stewart. An enormous amount of computer power was put to predicting spending and saving patterns across thousands of worlds. Of course, it’s been almost fifteen years since that was the case. The last major adjustment to the mints and banks were based on the upswing in SLDF spending to pay for operations in the Periphery. I’m not privy to what the remaining BSLA offices have been doing since, but the Hegemony’s isolation and then the loss of factories there has severely affected the supply of manufactured goods, so there’s less to buy and the prices of such goods will naturally rise unless the currency in circulation is constrained to counterbalance it.”
Cameron-Jones leant forwards. “And that isn’t happening in the Federated Suns? They’ve hardly been held up as a model of tight economic control over the years.”
“I’m sure it is. I really couldn’t say why the Star League is seeing more inflation than they are.”
“You mentioned the money supply.” Allison was looking intently at his advisor. “I’ve wondered how Barbara Liao was paying for her military operations against the Federated Suns when her own economy is slumping. What if she’s just printing more dollars to do so?”
“It’s probably not a matter of physical coinage,” Hughes said thoughtfully. “Most of the mints are on Hegemony worlds, after all. Electronic fraud could ‘create’ money on a grand scale but I’d think the banks would balk.”
“If her economic ministers are anything like mine, we’d have heard of wholesale heart attacks on Sian,” Kenyon grunted. “They did suggest that high levels of borrowing and spending – which is up across the Star League – could mean money is circulating faster which would somehow have the same effect. The cause ultimately doesn’t matter. What matters is what we do about it.”
Stewart drummed his fingers on the table. “As long as we’re dealing with a Star League-wide currency, we can’t impose the sort of controls that used to exist – anything we do could be entirely offset by differing policies on Sian, Luthien and Tharkad.”
“Not to mention Terra,” Kenyon agreed. “As long, as you say, as we’re dealing with a Star League-wide currency.”
All eyes went back to the three foreign banknotes on the table.
“It would be very disruptive to leave the dollar,” Jared Humphreys warned, the first time he’d spoken since he arrived. “We saw that in the Federated Suns.”
“In the short term,” Carl pointed out quietly. “But in the long run – John Davion is somehow keeping his currency stable while he’s fighting off the entire Star League.” Or at least those parts of the Star League that cared.
Allison rested his elbow on the table and rubbed his chin. “It’s… an interesting thought.”
“Isn’t it?” Kenyon agreed. “McEvedy would howl, but we’re less tied to the Hegemony’s economy than we have been in decades. It’s been fifty years since the Credit Crisis, but some of us must remember how the Hegemony looted us to correct the trade imbalance. I’m comfortable with increasing our economic distance a little if it can avert that from happening again.”
.o0O0o.
Bathsheba, Robinson
Draconis March, Federated Suns
1 February 2779
A mix of landing ships and dropships had already disembarked the spearhead of the landing force. John had been advised by both his own staff and Joshua’s not to join the first wave. He hadn’t needed much persuading, Vasily Sandoval’s fate was ample evidence of how much of a mistake that could be.
This time there was no trap though. Colonel Perez had led the way, a dozen Leopard-class dropships skimming the waves with half the Sixth Davion Guards leaping from them to secure a foothold around the docks. Bathsheba’s garrison, armour and infantry from the Third Arkab Legion, had rushed to repel them and left the way open for the other half of Perez’ regiment to make a more conventional landing and seize the drop port.
“We’re seeing movement by ‘Mechs,” Marion Cook reported as John’s Cyclops splashed ashore from landing ship. On paper the military intelligence officer was part of the Davion Assault Guards but with the regiment dispersed to several brigades, their command group acted as the core of the division’s staff. Marion’s Emperor wasn’t quite as fast as John’s ‘Mech but it waded determinedly after him up the beach.
“What sort of movement?”
“Harassing attacks, hit and run.” John heard Marion exhale in relief as she was at last off sand and on the ferrocrete ramp up out of the water. It would be all too easy for their assault ‘Mechs to get mired down on soft ground. “Colonel Perez thinks they’re trying to create an opening for their troops to get out.”
“You disagree?”
“My understanding is that DCMS doctrine would be for them to press aggressively, accepting losses for the chance to catch us unloading.”
First Prince or not, John moved up to join the other ‘Mechs securing the ferry docks. Roll On/Roll Off ships were waiting to move in and use them to disembark heavy tanks and mechanised infantry. “The Arkab Legion are a little out of step with the rest of the DCMS, Marion. Azami can certainly fight fanatically when they must but they’re more sensitive to losses and prefer to fight mobile campaigns. As a rule, anyway. Barring direct orders to stop us at any cost they’d rather give ground and look for reinforcements when they’re outnumbered.”
“Do you expect them to receive orders to stand and fight?”
“Probably not. Minoru’s not stupid. One understrength DCMS division isn’t going to stop a fresh division from the Corps of Guards.”
It had taken some shuffling – fortunately begun when Vasily Sandoval first demanded reinforcements rather than after his death – to pry loose a full division. In the end, John had had to order Stopec to withdraw from Johnsondale where the SLDF were pushing hard and divert the forces intended to reinforce the world.
That put Jack Lucas just a little closer to New Avalon and John was uncomfortably aware that the garrison there might not be able to keep the capital secure if Lucas decided to throw a heavy force forwards without securing his supply lines. There were four regiments of ‘Mechs between the two divisions stationed there – but two of them were only Academy Cadres. If there was an attack then the defence would hinge on the armour and infantry carrying much of the load.
The trade-off was that John had been able to bring a truly powerful force to Robinson – a reinforced division with four brigades built around the Davion Assault Guards, Colonel Perez’ Sixth Davion Guards – eager to win their first battle honour – and First Dragonlords.
Engineers confirmed that the docks had been checked for mines and other sabotage and confirmed as safe. John moved his Cyclops behind the wall of a warehouse, partly to clear the road for traffic and partly to avoid standing still and making himself a target. Up above, fighters from one of the divisional aerospace battalions were circling lazily.
The first RO/RO ship nudged up against the dock, dropping its ramp. Illuminated wands waved to signal and the first tanks rolled out. Merkavas were in the lead and John saw that most had their top hatches open, the helmeted heads of their commanders searching the area for threats. One threw a salute at his Cyclops.
“Marion, tell the commander of the…” John paused to check the unit markings. “Third Federation Armored Regiment to remind his crews that saluting in the field is sniper bait.”
“On it, sir.”
John twisted the torso of his ‘Mech and swept the targeting reticule across the port buildings and the city beyond. There were occasional pings on his sensors as the targeting computer picked up what might be hostile units or might just be perfectly innocent heat or magnetic signatures that happened to be in the right size or temperature bands to be picked out.
A second ferry moved up and this one had Manticores aboard.
“Marshal Davion, the tanks are taking over the perimeter, do you wish to join Major Stephenson’s battalion as they move up?”
“Let’s do that,” John decided.
Behind him in the jump seat, Hanse looked at the ‘Mechs of the battalion. The Cyclops, at ninety tons, out massed most ‘Mechs but here it was among the lightest. “Now this isn’t something I’d have expected to see in my time.”
John cut his microphone. “I thought the Assault Guards were still around in your day.”
“I don’t mean the mass, I mean the fact that two thirds of them are the same design.”
“Your logistics must have been a nightmare.” Stephenson’s battalion was built around two companies of Mackie assault ‘Mechs. Weighing in at a hundred tons each, the Mackie was the very first BattleMech design although these were MSK-9H models, almost as far removed from their distant ancestor as John’s own Cyclops. The Federated Suns had built copies of earlier Mackie variants before the Star League but these ‘Mechs had been claimed as salvage from Rim Worlds forces in the Hegemony, taken either from militia stockpiles or built for Amaris at Skobel Mechworks. The rest of the battalion was made up of two lances of Longbows, six Emperors and a pair of brand new Nightstars from General Motors’ Kathil factories. John wasn’t entirely convinced of the latter’s utility as command ‘Mechs but a number of officers liked to treat it as a ‘super Marauder’.
Hanse laughed. “I prefer to think of them as challenging. We lived or died by our technicians – none of the glory but by god, they deserved it sometimes.”
As John and Marion brought their ‘Mechs into the battalions’ command group a pair of Battleaxes trailed after them. Edwina had sprung that on him with Michael Stopec’s connivance: bodyguards pulled from his old regiment, the Third Guards, charged to stay by his side whichever unit he was accompanying and keep him alive.
It seemed a little excessive to John – it wasn’t as if he planned to seek out action himself, he was mostly in his Cyclops because he’d be harder to pick out as one more ‘Mech on the ground rather than in a fixed headquarters bunker. The battle computer let his staff keep him up to speed on what was going on almost as well as they could in a command centre anyway.
On the other hand, when your wife and two top military advisors (Hanse had concurred enthusiastically) think bodyguards are a good idea, it’s usually wisest to nod and agree.
“Kosigan and Patril must be getting awfully bored,” he observed before turning the microphone on.
“Bored is good,” Hanse reminded him. “No one’s bored when they’re getting shot at, for example.”
.o0O0o.
Geneva, Terra
Alliance Core, Terran Hegemony
25 February 2779
“The expansion of the docks at Titan are going well,” Daniel Mattlov reported to the cabinet. “The director advises me they should be able to begin working on warships massing up to a megaton within a few more months.”
“I take it that the SLDF are claiming priority for use of the yards?” asked Pinera wryly.
“They asked for that, yes.” The Director-General leant back in his chair. “In the end they settled for eighty percent of the work done with those docks, which seems reasonable.”
“Even eighty percent is generous of them given the relative size of the warship fleets,” pointed out Lauren Hayes. “Docks that size can handle anything up to a battlecruiser and our largest ships are a pair of cruisers.”
“They can also maintain destroyers, which we otherwise have limited capacity for,” Mattlov replied. “Although the exact arrangement is that the yards will work entirely on rebuilding wrecked SLDF cruisers with every fifth hull worked on transferred to the Terran Hegemony Navy.”
There was a murmur of approval from around the room.
Hayes leaned forwards. “How many ships can we expect to receive from this deal?”
James McEvedy looked over at Mattlov. “The initial contract is for forty ships, isn’t it?” The Director-General had intended to be closely involved in negotiations but the demands of reconstruction on Terra and dozens of other worlds had forced him to cancel attendance for more than half the meetings.
“Yes, we’re going to be reconstructing forty Sovetskii Soyuz-class ships into the new Kerensky-class fast carriers. For those deficient in maths, that’s eight for us and thirty-two for the SLDF.”
“I’ve never considered the Sovetskii’s to be fast.”
“It’s not a small refit, we’re looking at replacing the current engine block with a cluster of Rolls le Fey engines that should double the thrust/mass ratio of the class,” Mattlov said smugly. “That’s not far off a Vincent-class corvette’s performance – or more relevantly, the Federated Suns’ fast carriers.”
“Impressive. How long is it expected to take?”
“Years, unfortunately. Building the docks was one thing but we’re having to train up the orbital workforce.”
Pinera frowned. “Wasn’t there a drive to recruit workers from shipyards destroyed by Amaris? Surely there must be thousands of trained engineers available.”
McEvedy’s face was chagrined. “We would have thought.”
“We did get a good number of Martian workers from the old Bluenose Clippership yards,” Mattlov offered. “Unfortunately, that’s more the exception than the rule. When we started looking for people who’d been working for Boeing Interstellar we hit the other extreme on the scale – virtually all of them are gone.”
“Damn Amaris.”
The pilot-turned-minister laughed sharply. “For once, not his fault. Rare, I know.”
“Then what happened?”
“A pied piper by the name of Davion,” McEvedy told them. “Boeing’s New Earth and Terran megaplexes were destroyed but they still have the Galax facilities in the Federated Suns. A very large number of Boeing’s workforce elected to emigrate there – after all it’s less of a jump into the unknown when you have a job waiting for you.”
Hayes rubbed her face. “Davion never sent recruiters around the SLDF the way Liao, Kurita and the other two did. I suppose it must have escaped Kerensky’s attention that it didn’t mean the Federated Suns had no recruiters, just that they had other targets.”
“And not just aerospace engineers,” the Director-General agreed. “We could go A to Z with professions he’s been recruiting.”
“Zoologists?” asked someone sarcastically.
“The entire Zoology department of the James McKenna University in Glasgow were invited to go to New Syrtis and join the University of Saso.” McEvedy’s voice was flat. “He’s thorough, I’ll give him that. And although I don’t think he still has recruiters in the Hegemony people continue to leave. And a disproportionate number of them are ending up in the Federated Suns despite the little detail that they’re leaving the Star League to go there.”
“Where’s Glasgow?” Doctor Sampson asked someone next to him in a whisper.
“Only a few hundred miles from here, Doctor,” Hayes told him sharply.
“Can’t we do something about this migration?” the man asked, quickly changing the subject. “Set up a blockade or something?”
Mattlov shook his head. Idiot. “Space is rather large and jumpships avoid attention quite easily by travelling through uninhabited systems. It’s how the Star League Navy operated in the Hegemony while Amaris was in power and now refugee ships are using it to cross the war zone to enter the Federated Suns. If you want to stop the flow then you need to go to the source of the problem.”
“There’s no way I can set guards at every spaceport!” protested Hayes. “Not unless I give up all our other commitments. And how can we tell who’s going to the Suns and who’s just moving to another Hegemony world?”
“Bloody hell, Lauren, that’s not what I was meaning.”
“Well what do you mean?”
“I meant, we need to get a handle on why people would rather go to the Federated Suns than stay here,” Mattlov snarled. “General Lucas is halfway to New Avalon and the vaunted AFFS can slow him but they aren’t stopping him. We all know how this secession is going to end, but people are still going there. Why?”
Pinera sighed and steepled his fingers. “Duke Mattlov may be less than diplomatic, but he makes a good point. For whatever reason, the Federated Suns is drawing in millions -”
“Hundreds of millions, probably over a billion by now.”
“Thank you, Director General.” The old man looked around the table. “Setting aside allusions to the Pied Piper of Hamelin, the Federated Suns and its government must seem more appealing to many of our citizens than the Terran Hegemony and its government. A worrying situation.”
“We are the Terran Hegemony’s government!” exclaimed Sampson.
“I hope that’s concern, not discovery, I’m hearing,” Mattlov sniped.
“That’s enough from both of you.” James McEvedy rose to his feet. “Minister Pinera, please make this your first priority. Find out why people are leaving the Hegemony and give me some recommendations on how we can make the prospect less appealing – with an emphasis on the carrot over the stick. I have no wish to seem like the next Amaris.”
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“Kosigan and Patril must be getting awfully bored,” he observed before turning the microphone on.
I see what you did there. ;D
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Now there's an interesting ride for those two...
Are they perhaps Captains?
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I see what you did there. ;D
Out of curiosity, what did drakensis do there, for those of us not getting the joke?
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Out of curiosity, what did drakensis do there, for those of us not getting the joke?
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Vorkosigan_Saga
Those two guys are named after the protagonist, Miles Vorkosigan, and his cousin and occasional sidekick Ivan Vorpatril.
If I remember the novels correctly, the prefix "Vor" means a family is part of that particular planet´s ruling caste, effectively a warrior caste; the ancestors of these two were originally the Kosigan and Patril families, respectively.
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Drakensis, and a number of other fan writers on these forums, often throw in references to "older" sci-fi works. These references are understood by those of us with who are older and/or have a wide ranging knowledge of sci-fi works. Even his handle is a reference to a sci-fi series from the late 80's into the mid-90's. In a way this mirrors some of the references that are sprinkled throughout the Battletech universe. ;D
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And it's not just science fiction either... cf. "Hotspur"... :thumbsup:
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I do have the occasional regret about taking my username from a bunch of racist ******. But I've been using it for a couple of decades now so it would be hard to change.
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https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Vorkosigan_Saga
Those two guys are named after the protagonist, Miles Vorkosigan, and his cousin and occasional sidekick Ivan Vorpatril.
If I remember the novels correctly, the prefix "Vor" means a family is part of that particular planet´s ruling caste, effectively a warrior caste; the ancestors of these two were originally the Kosigan and Patril families, respectively.
Ah, see, that reference I did not get. I've only vaguely heard of the Vorkosigan saga.
I've certainly spotted plenty of other references (Bradford and Van Dorne spring to mind, since we saw them again this past chapter). Just didn't spot that one.
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Huston, Robinson
Draconis March, Federated Suns
13 March 2779
“After six months of campaigning, the DCMS are no closer to securing Robinson than they were within a week of our first landing. Indeed, many gains have been lost.” Minoru laid another white token upon the go board. “Explain this to me, cousin.”
Across the table, Thomas Kurita bowed his head – partly in supplication and partly in thought over the play being made on the board that lay between them. The oldest grandson of Soto Kurita and Mary Davion was twenty years the Coordinator’s junior. After his uncle Vincent, the elder of the Kurita-Davion sons, had fathered his own sons who stood between Thomas and the throne of New Avalon (or of Luthien for that matter), he’d thrown himself into a military career and progressed sufficiently to be Minoru’s deputy here on Robinson.
“It seems to me that the Federated Suns’ warriors may lack the focus of our own samurai, but that their military takes a broader base of what skills are required in war. I hope you will not find it unworthy to credit John Davion with intelligence?” He placed a black token on the board, precisely where Minoru had expected.
Responding immediately, to indicate as much, Minoru smiled slightly. “The young Davion has potential but his father is a worthy foe. It does not demean us to acknowledge him as such.” Vincent and his brothers still lived, but the death of Drago Kurita and his family on Terra had left Thomas as the only heir to the branch of House Kurita descended from Soto. It had also emptied the last wish of Minoru’s father of all meaning.
Minoru was glad he wasn’t placing a token as he recalled that. Damn, you father. Davion won honour and distinction fighting alongside Kerensky. Yet at your wish I withheld the Dragon and shamed us all. For what? Amaris killed our cousins within moments of Kerensky’s first landing on Terra. He never intended to release them, on any terms. Not once he knew he could use them to blackmail us.
If Thomas saw a sign of Minoru’s emotions he hid it well, instead studying the board carefully. “In particular, the AFFS are extremely diligent in recovering damaged equipment from the field. At first, we thought that they had storage on Robinson to replace their losses, but on any encounter, we yield the field to them, their technicians will hastily recover damaged equipment and put it back in service within days. We, on the other hand…”
“Salvage far less than they do and usually wind up needing to send even repairable equipment back to our base here for repairs. In fact,” Minoru noted, “There are even reports of AFFS salvage crews combing over battlefields where we won only to withdraw weeks or months later.”
His cousin placed a black token. “To all practical purposes we’ve disbanded the Fifth Sun Zhang Cadre to use its equipment and remaining personnel to fill gaps in the Dieron and Galedon Regulars. That still leaves the Third Arkab dangerously understrength and even the Otomo have taken losses.”
Replacing the proven, trusted warriors of the Otomo would be far harder than simply folding survivors of a training cadre into the ranks, naturally.
“Duke Sandoval is dead, his heir in some disgrace, the heir to the Suns has been evacuated with some wound – the true story there must be fascinating.” Minoru tapped the table thoughtfully with his white token before placing it to complete a trap around much of his cousin’s pieces. “On the other hand, the Federated Suns reinforcements mean that we cannot reasonably hope to take the other continents now, not without drawing in more of our regiments.”
“I think we have the naval strength to ensure their safety here, but if they mustered elsewhere and found themselves caught by one of the FedSuns carriers…” Thomas made a tipping gesture with one hand.
“Quite.”
“Some might say we have accomplished enough to withdraw.”
The younger man frowned and then winced. Minoru realised that Thomas had seen the trap. After consideration a black token was placed, potentially limiting the damage to the black tokens on the board. “Should the dragon take wing, there remain places that should perhaps feel the rake of his claws.”
“Hmm.” He dipped his hand into the pot of white tokens. “It is always best to finish a campaign upon a victory, even if it is merely tactical in nature. John Davion displayed this seventeen years ago.” This time the token was a sacrifice. Draw in the enemy’s attention and then…
“That is certainly true although not quite the path of my own thoughts, my most honoured cousin.”
“Please do share your thinking,” Minoru invited toothily.
Thomas laid a black token, responding to the feint rather than trying to dig his way out of the trap that had closed around the other flank. “We have… hmm, we have invested effort in rationalising the mines and industries here. Accustomed the workers to sensible hours of work and motivations. One might expect them to be more productive and useful than before. It would be unfortunate for them to fall back into Davion hands under those circumstances.”
“Hmm. The hand of the Dragon has indeed blessed the people of Canaan. Typically of such peasants though, they do not see their growth and would probably welcome Davion’s invasion, returning to their former slothful ways.”
Across the table Thomas fingered the cuffs of his uniform tunic. “Having removed the more decadent, it is possible that they may place their new diligence at his disposal. The man is, to judge by the reports from the Hegemony, infernally gifted at winning the allegiance of those who excel.”
Minoru played the first white token in a new pattern. “I see your concern. Do you have a suggestion for how we should deal with it?”
“The mines can be deprived of their equipment easily enough and no doubt our own workers will be able to make use of it somewhere, but the workers themselves are trained and ready to restore them as soon as new mining tools are provided. And House Davion, as we have noted -” Thomas placed a black token. “- does not lack for artificers and technicians. The workers then, should be removed.”
What was Thomas playing at? Minoru considered the unfolding stratagem on the board. “Since we lack the dropships to remove hundreds of thousands of workers from here, I take it you have another solution.”
The reply was short and distasteful. “Gas.”
“Hmm. The Ares Conventions may lay in abeyance, cousin, but they still shackle the minds of many.” Was he over-estimating Thomas? He was a blunt instrument, but sometimes such brute efficiency had its place.
“John Davion faced Amaris’ forces, and we all know that the Usurper did not scruple to use them. I concede that it will not break his will, but nor will it shock or amaze him. Such weapons are just that: weapons. And the ISF has confirmed that he has acquired vast stocks of them from a SLDF depot in the Free Worlds League.”
“Correct,” Minoru agreed. So, Thomas had a contact in the ISF privy to that information? Interesting.
He placed another token without speaking, letting the game play out. It didn’t take long before Thomas saw the second trap forming, calculated the numbers and bowed his head. “The match is yours, esteemed cousin.”
The Coordinator inclined his head. “It is always a pleasure to enjoy such pursuits with my family. If your advice is less pleasant, it is not less treasured for such are the demands of duty.”
Thomas bowed his head deeply at the compliment.
.o0O0o.
Huston, Robinson
Draconis March, Federated Suns
16 March 2779
Minoru’s Battlemaster was a particularly tall design, the top of his cockpit within a metre of the top of the dropship ‘Mech bay. Technicians moved around securing his ‘Mech in place – the prospect of eighty-five tons of ‘Mech coming loose during take-off or landing was enough to turn a dropship captain pale.
The men and women around him weren’t the same faces he knew. He wasn’t riding his usual command vessel for this. The converted Dictator had space for a full company of the Otomo plus his command lance and then quarters and working space for a command staff. This was one of the new Fury-class ships, which had only space for twenty-five ‘Mechs and an infantry company.
Right now, the Coordinator didn’t need his staff with him. The infantry would come in useful and while he hadn’t lost any of his command lance, one of the Otomo companies only had twenty MechWarriors left. It wasn’t even the company that had taken the heaviest casualties, which was frustrating. The Otomo weren’t just selected for being trustworthy, they were also among the finest MechWarriors in the Draconis Combine. Many had distinguished themselves as duellists against SLDF gunslingers and yet a fifth of them had died on this filthy world, with others forced to eject and claim replacement ‘Mechs from the limited reserve available.
Rather than disembark, the Coordinator adjusted his straps and prepared to wait in quiet contemplation. A moment later there was a knock against the side of his cockpit. Turning he saw the face of Karl Knutesson, the commander of the Otomo, looking in at him.
Minoru reached out and opened the hatch, watching Knutesson back up to let the panel of armoured glass swing up past him. “Tai-sa.”
“Kurita-dono.” Although of sturdy Rasalhague stock, Knutesson’s family had lived on Luthien for two generations and both of those generations had produced able officers for the DCMS. His Japanese was educated, with the accent of the capital, and Minoru happened to know that he also wrote prize-winning poetry. “May this unworthy one speak to you directly?”
Looking around, Minoru saw that none of the technicians were close enough to overhear them. “I would value your counsel, Karl.”
The man’s jaw twitched slightly and he leant closer. “Respectfully, sir, this operation does not befit your rank or office. I beg that you order this dropship to join the main flotilla. If you would have the Otomo carry your honour in the attack to come, four companies would bring death to the Davion and his guards and knowing that you are secure would only redouble their energy, while if you were to suffer a misfortune the Combine would rest in the hands of a very young man.”
The Coordinator looked at the man and nodded thoughtfully. If he accepted the advice then Knutesson would be among those going so there was no fear for himself. Only for his ultimate obligation, the survival of the Kurita dynasty. It was good advice, in keeping with the man’s duty. “I understand your concerns, Tai-sa.”
Understanding was not acquiescence though and they both knew it.
“My son, as you say, is young. But he is of rare intellect and has been raised to rule. While I do not seek my death, if it should come – as it may for all men – then the Combine will be in safe hands.”
He waited for Knutesson to nod in acceptance of his point before continuing. “The Otomo are a regiment of the finest samurai in the Combine, from yourself to the most junior tank crewman, but they do not carry the honour of Dragon. That burden lies upon the Sword of Light, while your weight is my safety and security. I understand that it is in that light that you petition and do not hold it against you, but I take the Otomo with me not for your honour, great though it is, but for my trust in you.”
“Sir,” Knutesson lowered his head. “I ask then if you cannot second the role to your cousin Thomas, that House Kurita be represented without risking yourself.”
Minoru shook his head slightly. Thomas would be with the main body, having taken charge, with the Fourth and Fifth Dieron Regulars, of the workers. The job had over-run so they would be among the last to take off, possibly just ahead of the AFFS. Reports were that the Fourth Ceti Hussars Division, including both that regiment and two others of SLDF veterans, had embarked on ships yesterday and must surely be on the way across the relatively narrow sea separating Megiddo from Canaan.
“John Davion has come all the way here from New Avalon to meet me, Karl. If it was just the Sandoval or the prince’s son then I could delegate the matter to Thomas but for the lord of the Suns himself I must attend to this personally.”
“Respectfully, sire, your manners aren’t worth getting killed.”
“Courtesy is one of the tenets of bushido,” Minoru corrected him firmly. He realised his hand had closed into a fist and relaxed it. “But more than that, John Davion is the heart of resistance to the Star League. Kill him, as we once killed his grandfather, and the morale of the Federated Suns will suffer a great blow.”
“That is absolutely true, sir. However, it does not require you to personally attend to him. He is, after all, only the head of a lesser House.”
Minoru felt his tension drop away and he couldn’t help but to chuckle lightly. “Between ourselves, as we are speaking directly, John Davion and his realm have not merely held back the forces of the SLDF, CCAF and DCMS, they have struck back ferociously. He is a worthy foe. I cannot, I must not, give the impression that House Kurita fears to meet him in battle. For all our victories here, since he arrived we have also suffered defeats. As we have chosen to withdraw, we must depart victorious, and no victory would be as fitting as to have brought an end to the most dangerous of our foes.”
Knutesson bowed his head. “As you say, esteemed lord.”
“Return to your dropship,” Minoru instructed. “We will be taking off shortly.”
He closed the hatch once the Otomo commander was clear and frowned at the clock. There would be a narrow window for completing the planned attack. In order to meet their scheduled jumpships, the DCA had advised that the strike force would have to depart Megiddo no more than five hours after they took off from Canaan. That was a very limited window of opportunity.
If Davion was surrounded by a strong force then it could be impossible, but reports indicated that the new Marshal of the Draconis March was on Solomon with her own regiment of heavy ‘Mechs and the Third Robinson Chevaliers. With the Ceti Hussars on ships, the Davion Guards division was scattered to secure Megiddo and it would take many hours to concentrate them again to respond to Minoru’s attack.
There was a chance. Five hours was somewhere between an eternity and no time at all in the peculiar way time mattered in war. It might be enough.
“I need this victory,” the Coordinator murmured to himself as the last ‘Mech was secured and the crew began to close up the ship for launch. He restrained himself from saying the rest aloud. He needed it, because it was Davion’s ships that had killed his son Jinjiro (or marooned him somewhere in a crippled warship for a slow death, which would be worse).
He needed it because the rest of the Star League would draw a fine line between the collateral casualties of fighting through a city and the strategic demands of eliminating skilled workers that would serve the war effort of the enemy.
And most of all, he needed it because John Davion had spoiled his victory. Had taken a battered and bleeding force, reinforced it with fresh steel and turned back the tide of battle here on Robinson before Minoru could take the march capital from him.
Your legends speak of knights who slay dragons, John. But mine teach that dragons are a force of nature that no mortal man may withstand. Let us see whose myth rings truest.
The ‘Mech shook slightly around him as the Fury’s engines roared to life.
.o0O0o.
New Haifa, Robinson
Draconis March, Federated Suns
16 March 2779
“John! Wake up!”
Jerked out of sleep by the shout, the First Prince poked his head out of his blankets. “What?”
He saw Hanse leaning over him, the redheaded prince trying to shake him by the shoulder. “You need to wake up.”
“I’m awake, I’m awake.” He edged across the bed, the ghost’s hand passing through him was disconcerting. “What’s going on?”
“Kurita attack. You need to get up!”
Shaking his head, John looked around the guestroom. He was using the Sandoval’s coastal manor as a headquarters while they prepared to load up for the attack on Canaan. “Here? A raid?”
Hanse shook his head. “The command centre is picking up massive dropship movements. Most of them are heading for orbit.”
“A retreat?” He threw off the blankets. “Wait, most? You said an attack?”
“The night staff are still putting it together, they need more experience,” Hanse warned him. “Most of the dropships are retreating but fourteen of them are burning for western Megiddo.”
“We’re in western Megiddo.”
“Yes. And you’re the only real target here.”
Pulling on the fresh shorts laid out for the morning, John thought about it and agreed. “Force estimate?”
“One of their divisions at near enough full strength would be my guess.”
“Wonderful.” A DCMS division was five regiments, one of ‘Mechs, one of tanks and the rest infantry. With the invasion force at sea, western Megiddo only had limited forces available. “What’s their ETA?”
“Maybe half an hour at most.”
The telephone on the bedside started pinging and John grabbed the handset. “This is the Prince.” He let the man on the far end speak, barely paying attention as he was told there was an incoming attack. The Davion Guards brigade here was light on ‘Mechs, just Major Stephenson’s battalion, but half the remaining Robinson Draconis March Militia were outside the city – two battalions of ‘Mechs, two of medium tanks and a mechanised infantry battalion. “I understand. Get everyone mobilised. Order the civilians to shelters.” After Jinjiro’s abortive assault every city on Robinson had been ordered to prepare municipal shelters. It probably wouldn’t be enough, but it was better than nothing.
John dropped the handset and shoved his feet into his boots. There was no time to get properly dressed and he’d have to strip them off again when he reached his ‘Mech.”
There was a knock on the door. “Sir, there’s an emergency.”
Pulling it open he saw John Patril, also wearing just MechWarrior shorts and boots. “I just heard. We need to get mounted up.”
“Respectfully sir, you need to get out of here.”
“I’ll be safer in my ‘Mech than anywhere else. This isn’t a hardened facility.”
The ‘Mech hanger was burrowed into the heights around the manor. Crossing the grounds at a jog, John felt the pre-dawn chill on his skin. Marion Cook caught up with them, still buckling a gun belt around his waist as he ran. What use he thought a sidearm would be escaped John, but whatever made the man happy.
Inside the hanger, Kosigan’s Battleaxe was already active and the MechWarrior raised one PPC in salute as they passed. The room stank of old coolant and oil. John climbed the stairs to the gantry ahead of the other two. “Once we’re up and running we’ll join the Guards,” he ordered. “We only have to hang on long enough for reinforcements to arrive.”
“Sir, shouldn’t you get out of here?” called Patril.
“That could just leave me isolated for a head-hunter. Better to be surrounded by loyal troops.” He climbed through the hatch and began the start-up procedure for his Cyclops. The cooling vest added to the chill but once the fusion reactor reached operating power he’d be warm enough, maybe warmer than he wanted. Bringing the massive engine online, John put the adhesive medical sensors in place on his thighs and upper arms, then buckled himself in before reaching for the neurohelmet.
The helmet was heavier than those used by the SLDF, resting on the shoulders of his cooling vest. In theory the AFFS could have obtained lighter neurohelmets but the cost, not only in money but also in the materials had pushed it down the priority list. The actual performance was just as good, after all, and they cut the risk of neck injuries. Looking at the world out of the visor, John pressed the amber glowing button.
“Identification required,” the computer droned.
“General John Davion.”
“Are you ever going to reprogramme that from the SLDF settings?” Hanse asked from where he was crushing himself into the space behind John.
“Voiceprint matches. Activation code required.”
John took a deep breath. “To everything there is a season, and a time to every purpose under the heaven.”
The light winked out. “Activation code recognised.” Status lights flashed green across the monitors, except for the weapon systems, which remained amber.
Hanse had taught John this trick, even if someone had his voiceprint and the main activation code they wouldn’t be able to access the Cyclops’ weapons without the second code and the computer wouldn’t volunteer that one existed. He pressed the button again. “A time to rend, and a time to sew, a time to keep silence, and a time to speak.” There was no verbal response this time but weapon indicators switched to green.
John maneuvered the Cyclops out into the hanger’s central space and then turned it to the door. “Command centre, this is Ochre One. I’m on the move.”
“Roger that, Ochre One.” To his relief the voice wasn’t the night shift supervisor that Hanse had disparaged earlier, instead one of the more experienced staff. “Please switch to channel twelve and cipher Tango-Whiskey-Seven.”
Adjusting the radio as directed, John followed the road out of the Sandoval estate. “Ochre One, signing in,” he reported.
“Thank you, sir,” the same operator responded. “Please be aware that we’re shutting down operations at the manor. Headquarters signals will be sent from Ember One, which is hereby designated as primary command channel.”
“Primary command channel?” John asked. Surely that would be him.
“Yes sir. Transmissions will be on channel seven using cipher Tango-Victor-Nine.”
”Ah,” Hanse exclaimed.
That code had been broken according to the last Ministry of Intelligence briefing… ah, a decoy. “Confirmed, headquarters. Primary command channel will be designated to Ember One, using Tango-Victor-Nine on channel seven.”
Ember One was the DMM infantry force’s battalion command van – a plausible source for John to be operating alongside.
Up in the sky dropships made a blazing trail in the sky. They were coming down right over the city, armed dropships loaded with what must be some of the DCMS’ most fanatical soldiers.
“Headquarters, Ochre One requests vectoring to the nearest active unit.” It wouldn’t do to be caught with just four ‘Mechs.
“Roger that, Ochre One. Follow the road westwards to link up with Eclipse Beta.”
-
New Haifa, Robinson
Draconis March, Federated Suns
16 March 2779
Smoke rose from the city in a dozen places, evidence of the damage BattleMechs could do even incidentally. While it would have been damaging to the planetary economy and to military efforts, Minoru Kurita had ordered that the petroleum refineries only be targeted if the AFFS used them as cover. It would be too easy to cause a conflagration that would engulf everyone.
“We have confirmation, lord,” Knutesson reported. “Our Kanga tanks ran down and destroyed the source of the command transmissions. It was a decoy – a battalion command group with no one above the rank of major.”
“I thought it seemed too convenient.” Minoru’s throat felt parched. He’d killed two enemy ‘Mechs so far, a Dervish and a Wolverine, both with the markings of the Robinson DMM. It was unsatisfying. What he wanted was Davion, not a jumped-up militia. “Have there been any sightings of his Cyclops?”
The command ‘Mechs were built in the Hegemony and rare outside of the SLDF. It wasn’t impossible that there would be more than one AFFS Cyclops on Robinson, or even in New Haifa, but the odds were against it.
“Tai-i Hogan and Tai-i Schwartz are engaging a battalion of the Davion Assault Guards near the docks,” Knutesson advised him. “It’s the most likely place for the Prince if he’s still in the city, but they haven’t sighted a Cyclops.”
The two companies in question had almost forty ‘Mechs between them when they landed. Fine ‘MechWarriors but the Davion Guards were also an elite force and the Assault Guards were infamous for the size and power of their ‘Mechs. Minoru turned his Battlemaster. “We will reinforce them then, if he is hiding behind his Guards then it may require more than two companies to break that battalion.”
Unlike the orderly formations of matching ‘Mechs that most regiments displayed, the Otomo utilised whatever ‘Mechs their samurai felt most adept with. As such they were an apparently mix-matched group, united only by their purpose and the black paint that marked them out as the Coordinator’s guards.
Knutesson’s company had only five light ‘Mechs in their ranks, two Panthers and three Falcons, which fanned out in the lead. Behind came the Tai-sa himself with the fast heavies – Dragons, Quickdraws and Lancelots. Minoru’s Battlemaster was escorted by a pair of Victors and a pair of Longbows and behind them trailed a rear-guard of Shadow Hawks and Wolverines.
The streets of New Haifa were largely deserted but there were signs of skirmishing from earlier – a pair of AFFS APCs surrounded by dead foot soldiers of both nations; a headless Swordsman slumped against the side of a shopping centre.
Minoru checked his clock. They’d used more than half the time he’d allotted for the operation. If Davion wasn’t dead in two hours then they’d have to fall back to the dropships. That wouldn’t be entirely a failure – the First Prince would be shamed by the attack and even his survival could be cast as cowardice – but it wouldn’t be the victory that the Coordinator hungered for.
Knutesson paused his ‘Mech at an intersection where a Tokugawa tank lay crippled, one side torn open by what Minoru guessed was a mix of autocannon and PPC fire. “Lord, there has been a sighting of a Cyclops.”
“At the docks?”
“No, lord. In the centre of the city, accompanying a force of tanks. The platoon that reported the sighting has ceased to report.”
Consulting his compass and comparing its directions to those of street signs at the intersection, Minoru pointed to the right. “Then we have our goal.”
“May I request that we summon additional support? Minamoto’s tanks are returning from the decoy and can join us quickly.”
“Summon them by all means, but we must pursue Davion now. I will not have him slip out of our grasp.” Minoru marched his ‘Mech down the road he had indicated, the Otomo rushing to restore their previous order around him. Knutesson was taking caution to extremes. Even if John Davion had an entire tank battalion around him, twenty-three BattleMechs would make short work of them.
The road was wide and well maintained, moving through a light industrial district before reaching a broad park with tall hotel and office buildings along the other side. The Otomo rushed across the park, careless of damage to the trees, grass and in one case a kiosk that was crushed underfoot by one of the Dragons.
The wreckage of five APCs marked the platoon that had sighted Davion. Minoru paid especial attention to the heavy slug that had smashed through the frontal armour of a wheeled personnel carrier – the thick armour could have absorbed the impact even a PPC but a single gauss rifle shot had penetrated and gutted the engine compartment.
Gauss Rifles weren’t precisely rare as weapons, but from the angle the APC had been shot by a ‘Mech rather than a tank and besides John Davion’s Royal Cyclops, the only AFFS ‘Mechs sighted so far in the campaign mounting a Gauss Rifle were a handful of the new Nightstars in the Assault Guards. If the Guards were in the docks...
“It is him,” he declared and pushed his Battlemaster further forward, pushing his lance in among Knutesson’s heavies.
The Tai-sa in turn advanced his Dragon. “Lord, please let us scout for you,” he petitioned.
Beyond the hotels were lower and older buildings, the city hall, a museum and – framed by a synagogue and a cathedral, a broad plaza of muted red and yellow paving around a fountain.
Stood at the far side of the plaza, less than two hundred metres away, were four ‘Mechs. Two Battleaxes sprang into action as the Otomo emerged onto the paving, shielding the Cyclops behind them with their bodies. An Emperor behind the pair was only a little slower, raising its guns.
“John Davion, I presume,” Minoru boomed out on his loudspeakers before anyone would fire.
There was a pause and then a familiar voice. “Kurita.” Minoru had heard anger in John Davion’s voice before, frustration at the Star League Council. But this was different. There was a harsh edge, a… a contempt that layered over a banked fury.
So, it is as personal for him as it is for me. Good.
Knutesson raised his autocannon. “Lord, we should kill him now.”
The Coordinator swung the arm of his Battlemaster out to the side, ordering the Otomo to hold their fire. “I have been looking for you, John.” One of the Victors moved to half-screen him from the Federated Suns lance and Minoru allowed it, since John had not stepped out from his own guards.
“You should have made an appointment then,” the First Prince replied, voice sarcastic. “But given what I’ve just heard from Canaan, I think I can make room for you in my schedule.”
“You are as gracious as I recall. I do not believe death poems are your custom but if you would record last words for your family, I will see them delivered.”
“I think you mistake who has the upper hand today.”
What did he mean? Wait, the report said he was with tanks, where are they?
The question was answered immediately as metal moved from behind the screening bulk of the formal buildings. Driven by fusion reactors there was no roar of engines, and unlike ‘Mechs the shielding of a tank’s reactor muted infra-red signatures dramatically.
More than thirty tanks surrounded the plaza from three sides, and every last one was an Alacorn IV sporting three short, brutal 200mm autocannon in the turret.
“Retreat!” Minoru shouted, his command blending with Knutesson’s: “Defend the Coordinator!”
And then weapons on both sides opened up. PPCs, autocannon and missiles converted the plaza into a pocket of hell. At point-blank range, every weapon that could be brought to bear fired. LRMs couldn’t arm properly in this range and stray shorts smashed windows and walls.
Minoru aimed his PPC at Davion’s Cyclops, trying to shoot the cockpit over the First Prince’s escorts. The shot went wildly astray as the Victor in front of him brushed his ‘Mech’s other shoulder. Before the Coordinator’s eyes, the eighty-ton ‘Mech came apart in the nightmarish crossfire of tank fire.
Ninety heavy autocannon at optimal ranges ripped through the Otomo, the fire of Davion’s body-guard little more than an afterthought.
Few of the shots hit Minoru’s Battlemaster and his heavy armour gave him a precious moment as loyal samurai hurled their ‘Mechs into the path of the tanks guns, shielding him with their bodies.
The silvery fireball of an unshielded fusion reactor buffeted the Battlemaster as the Coordinator retreated back between a multi-story car park and a hotel.
“Davion! Fight me!” he screamed.
There was no answer save the staccato of the guns and the rattle of tracks as those tanks that could no longer find targets rushed to encircle him.
Minoru backed up further, looking around. A Longbow, one barrel-like missile launcher a burned-out wreck, a Dragon and two Shadow Hawks were the only ‘Mechs moving with him. “Go, lord,” petitioned Marcus Yoshida from the Longbow. “Minamoto’s company are moments away.”
“I…” Minoru struggled for words, then bowed his head. “I obey.” He forced his Battlemaster into a run towards the park as the other ‘Mechs fanned out to buy him a few moments of time.
Behind him weapons fired, but from avenues on either side, Alacorns raced into view, having swung wider to avoid such stalling.
There weren’t thirty of them, the heavy tanks could barely keep up with his Battlemaster on the roads. But two fired from either side and armour tore away from his ‘Mech. With a cry, the Coordinator couldn’t keep it upright and the assault ‘Mech fell face first into the shrubbery, PPC digging a gouge out of the side of a water feature.
Red and amber marked his system display. Armour was ruptured in four places and the ‘Mechs right knee was broken. Pushing off from the ground, Minoru raised his PPC and fired into the front of one of the Alacorns. “Very well, see how a Kurita dies!” he snarled.
The lightning-like beam tore into armour plating but the tank continued to crawl inexorably towards him. More autocannon fire ripped into the limbs of his Battlemaster and it fell again. This time his head bounced off the back of his command couch half-stunning him.
When he raised the PPC again, he saw the muzzle was gone. Discarding the useless weapon he looked around. No sign of Minamoto, no Otomo ‘Mechs left.
With a gasp of despair, Minoru reached for the swords strapped to the side of his couch. He fumbled, only realising after a second attempt that the fingers of his right hand were broken. When had that happened? Reaching cross body, he fumbled to free the strap holding his wakizashi in the sheath, trying to draw it left handed.
There was a hiss as the hatch of his cockpit opened. Someone must have used the emergency access to open it. Looking up, he saw a man in AFFS tank gear holding a sidearm.
The wakizashi finally slid free into his hand and Minoru tried to reverse his grip so he could apply the razor edge to his throat.
There was a sharp crack, a smell of cordite, pain in his left hand now. Minoru saw his sword, hilt shattered and bloodied, fall to the side of the cockpit.
“Kill me then,” he demanded.
The man – a mere sergeant! - clambered down and yanked the katana out of reach. “First Prince says you don’t deserve a warrior’s death,” he replied briskly. Setting his gun out of Minoru’s reach, he pulled a medical kit out of his pocket and a moment later, there was the brief stab of a field hypodermic. A sedative, he realised as his vision swam. Not in mercy for his wounds but to keep him from fighting back further.
-
Oooooooooooh boy....this could have one of two results
1 - The Combine forces on Robinson go absolutely NUTS and try to recover the Coordinator and no doubt walk into forces waiting for them.
2 - A peace or ceasefire might be bought. But if John has The Dragon executed...then that will get a 1st Succession War style response from the Combine.
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Revenge for First Prince Joseph's death on Royal on 20 October, 2729.
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Revenge for First Prince Joseph's death on Royal on 20 October, 2729.
Could result in full on 1st Succcession war levels nuclear carpet bombing and the like as well as full scale orbital bombardment. at the moment we're not having any of that, but killing the Coordinator...well..cat amongst the pigdeons.
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I'm wondering if Minoru won't be put on trial for war crimes, much like how a number of Amaris personnel were after they used WMDs against civilians. John could then use that to leverage more dissent/desertion of the SLDF by drawing a comparison between the actions taken by Minoru and Amaris against civilians. Of course the problem there is how to conduct the trial as one conducted entirely by the FedSuns would be labeled a sham kangaroo-court where as remanding Minoru into the custody of the Star League for trial would not guarantee a trial ever occurring due to the fractured nature of the council. That said, remanding Minoru to the SLDF and Star League for trial might be actually be the smarter play if you were seeking to hasten the dissolution of the Star League. The other Lords would take the opportunity to show why Minoru and the Combine would be unfit to lead the League while at the same time drawing the ire of Dragon for not "supporting" their fellow Council Lord in putting down rebels, secessionists, and terrorists.
There area a number of ways this could get played out and most likely John, along with Hanse, is considering each option in-turn and will select the one that gives the greatest benefit to the FedSuns as a whole.
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I'm wondering if Minoru won't be put on trial for war crimes, much like how a number of Amaris personnel were after they used WMDs against civilians. John could then use that to leverage more dissent/desertion of the SLDF by drawing a comparison between the actions taken by Minoru and Amaris against civilians. Of course the problem there is how to conduct the trial as one conducted entirely by the FedSuns would be labeled a sham kangaroo-court where as remanding Minoru into the custody of the Star League for trial would not guarantee a trial ever occurring due to the fractured nature of the council. That said, remanding Minoru to the SLDF and Star League for trial might be actually be the smarter play if you were seeking to hasten the dissolution of the Star League. The other Lords would take the opportunity to show why Minoru and the Combine would be unfit to lead the League while at the same time drawing the ire of Dragon for not "supporting" their fellow Council Lord in putting down rebels, secessionists, and terrorists.
There area a number of ways this could get played out and most likely John, along with Hanse, is considering each option in-turn and will select the one that gives the greatest benefit to the FedSuns as a whole.
Couldn´t a case be made that, by leading troops into battle in an operation which is part of a Star League military campaign, Minoru is de facto an SLDF officer? In which case, handing him over to the SLDF to deal with as one of their own would make sense.
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Couldn´t a case be made that, by leading troops into battle in an operation which is part of a Star League military campaign, Minoru is de facto an SLDF officer? In which case, handing him over to the SLDF to deal with as one of their own would make sense.
Nope, he is leading strickly DC troops iin a DC campaign, there is almost no coordination between them and the SLDF. Also, there are no SLDF troops there.
Lastly, that was AWESOME! i was all out of my seat going DDDAAAAAAMMMMNNNNN when the trap was sprung. Like Kurita totally got OWNED! Yea.... gassing the civvies was a BAD move.
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Returning Minoru to the combine in disgrace as a war criminal would do a lot more damage.
He would return as a failure with no authority.
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I was expecting a departure from the outline, but not this... WOW! :thumbsup:
While handing him over to the SLDF for his war crimes trial would be interesting, I think delegating his punishment to Susan would be even more dishonor... >:D
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I have to admit I might have considered doing something to him to try and discourage the rest of the Dracs, but sure, war crimes trial by the rest of the SL would be ok. I'm not sure if they wouldn't free him and send him home to try again, though. It's not like the John won't ensure the trial is fair, after all.
So, Drac - I read DDD every morning before work. Really, really, enjoy this. Thanks a lot, eh?
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Since Coordinator is alive but in the hands of enemies, do they name the new one or do they wait for FS to execute him? Historically Zabu was forced to commit seppoku soon after officially taking up reign and now he would probably have to make some decisions not favored by DCMS.
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Could Davion basically shame the Coordinator by defeating him and then sending him home? The amount of face he's going to have lost both personally and to his troops and considering how much the Kuritan's put emphasis on this, it could be a devastating morale hit.
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New Haifa, Robinson
Draconis March, Federated Suns
17 March 2779
Seeing New Haifa again hit Susan Sandoval like a hammer blow. It had been more than ten years since she’d returned to the Sandoval’s ancestral home and as the dropship came in to land she saw pillars of smoke rising from the city.
The Otomo wouldn’t leave without the Coordinator and the dropship crews wouldn’t leave without the soldiers they’d brought here. Susan had brought Gav Greaney’s battalion with her to join the first wave of reinforcements. As her heavy and assault ‘Mechs had disembarked to begin rooting the DCMS out of the city, she saw an entire battalion of Carronade artillery vehicles unlimbering and preparing to bombard the enemy landing zone.
That had been a full day ago. She hadn’t slept, although hopefully her troops were. Her family home had taken some incidental damage – a small force had been looking for the First Prince but moved on quickly once they didn’t find him. She, on the other hand, found him in the library.
“Your highness.” Susan drew herself up and saluted.
He returned the salute crisply. “Marshal Sandoval, welcome home.”
That gave her a moment’s pause. “Thank you, sire.”
“You have reservations?”
“It’s been a while since I considered anywhere but the Dao Dragoons to be my home,” Susan admitted. “Even once I made Brigadier it hadn’t really sunk in that I wasn’t their CO anymore.”
John Davion nodded. “You had command of them for a long time. I wish I could promise that they’d be at your disposal to secure the Draconis March, but the demands of war mean that’s a promise I might not be able to keep… and I prefer to be honest about such matters.”
“I understand, sire.”
The First Prince reached out and put a printout on the table. “We’ve had reports from our remaining agents in Canaan about the situation there. You’ll want to sit down.”
Taking a chair – at the same table she’d been shouting at her father across when they last met – Susan unfolded the paper and scanned it. Then her stomach plummeted and she read it again, more carefully. That… “That can’t be true.”
“It’s a preliminary report, but we have multiple sources saying the same,” he told her.
“Almost a hundred thousand people?”
It was no secret that the DCMS had established work camps at Canaan’s major mines and were running three shifts, keeping the miners on site and isolated from their families. Military Intelligence had inserted dozens of officers into the occupied continent and unlike the trap laid for her father, the work camps hadn’t been protected by Draconian counter-intelligence.
Before they withdrew their garrison infantry, the Combine had marched all the workers into the barracks thrown up to house them… and then they’d pumped VX gas into the buildings.
The First Prince nodded. “We know the regiments that did it. And we know who the orders came from.”
“Kurita?” she demanded. “He knew?”
“The regiments were instructed by General Thomas Kurita of the DCMS, the Coordinator’s deputy within the invasion force.” He paused. “Of course, as a deputy his only authority is to speak on the Coordinator’s behalf.”
Susan closed her eyes, choked down the fury inside of her. Shouting and screaming wouldn’t get her anywhere with John Davion. “Your highness, this can’t be allowed to pass.”
“I agree. They are my people and yours. We – I – have already failed to protect them. If we don’t even avenge them then what is our protection worth?” He rose to his feet. “Come with me, please.”
There were no dungeons in the manor but the security set up had a few detention rooms, for use in case of intruders and the like. Susan had found the rooms in exploration as a child, thought nothing of them and gone on. It was shocking to see Minoru Kurita sitting in one of them. He’d been shackled to a chair, both hands in bandages. When she looked for a monster, all she saw was an old, tired man.
“Ah, Davion.” His voice was slightly slurred. “And you must be the new Sandoval. I would rise, but…” He pulled on the chains loosely.
“Coordinator.” The First Prince folded his arms behind him. “It’s been a long time since Terra.”
“Yes. Once you would have made me First Lord. Now you have me in chains. I should tell you that I have no value as a hostage.”
“What is it today with people keep telling me things I already know?”
Susan glanced at her ultimate superior. Immediate superior now, as well. “You would have made him First Lord?”
“At the time I considered that to be the lesser evil than the war we’re fighting now. Fortunately, it turned out to be a mistake I don’t have to live with.”
Kurita smiled tightly. “You didn’t dare to face me as a MechWarrior, but I suppose a firing squad is your solution?”
John shook his head. “You’re not entitled to a warrior’s death. I have people on Canaan now. We know what you did to the workers.”
“Yes, it will take you time to put those mines back to work.”
“You’re a savage,” Susan accused.
The Coordinator raised his chin. “I am a ruler. One must make the best decision for their realm first and foremost.”
“There were a hundred thousand people in those camps!”
“My people do not shrink from capital punishment. Across the Combine’s four hundred worlds, how many do you suppose have been executed for various crimes over the last fourteen years?” Kurita shook his head. “You are naïve, which I suppose is also to the Combine’s benefit.”
“The Ares Conventions prohibit the use of chemical warfare,” John said quietly. “As well as the sort of urban warfare we’ve seen so much over the last few years.”
“The Ares Conventions were renounced two hundred years ago, when we brought the Outworlders and the Taurians to heel,” Kurita reminded them. “There’s no legal weight to them anymore.”
“They remain a pretty good guideline to what is and isn’t, shall we say, civilised.” The First Prince turned a chair around and sat on it, facing the prisoner. “So, from one barbarian to another, do you know why the Ares Conventions never specified a consequence for breaking their guidelines?”
Susan blinked. She’d never actually read them. Was that true?
“I’ve never given them thought.”
“The conventions are just that, conventions. What they codify are what might be called natural laws of war. A… social contract, if you will. Unspoken, which is where the Conventions came in handy, laying out what was and wasn’t allowed. The consequences were obvious: retaliation in kind.”
“Do you think that threatening Combine workers will strike fear into the heart of my son? Zabu is of stronger fibre than that.”
John shook his head in dismissal. “As you say, you’ve executed thousands of your own people. I’m sure that killing a hundred thousand of your people would leave you and your son totally unmoved.” He paused. “But we know who carried out this atrocity. We know the regiments and getting their rosters is simply a matter of investigation. I have an entire Ministry for that sort of work and I am going to hold every person from the lowliest private to the most senior officer in the chain of command personally accountable. So, when your son is next advised to wage war on a civilian population, he’ll know that at least one state won’t excuse it.”
“You’re talking about assassination.”
“I’m talking about responsibility. Your responsibility.” The First Prince rose to his feet. “I suppose Francesca Reznick will be annoyed that you aren’t available for extended interrogation, but nothing you know is as important as reminding the Inner Sphere that I have a very low tolerance for those who wage war on civilians.”
Kurita looked up at him. “Perhaps you are less naïve than I thought,” he conceded.
“If it won’t be a firing squad, how will he die?”
“We don’t have VX gas of our own to use,” Davion said coldly. “Or at least, not conveniently here on Robinson. I imagine the stock from Nagayan would include some. We’re assembling a gas chamber though and this is an industrial world, so finding some sort of lethal gas won’t be hard. Carbon monoxide would do in a pinch. An eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth, a painful choking death for a painful choking death. Die knowing that thousands of your soldiers will follow you the same way, Lord Kurita. Quite the legacy to leave for your son.”
.o0O0o.
Atreus City, Atreus
Marik Commonwealth, Free Worlds League
3 April 2779
The screens displayed both imagery and the preliminary analysis of the damage done. The debris that had once been space-stations next to graphs detailing the impact on construction and maintenance schedules over the five years it was estimated that would be needed to restore the SelaSys yards at Loyalty to full productivity.
“It was an extremely economic attack.” Kellogg Winslow was delivering the briefing and if he was moved by being the bearer of bad news to the Captain-General and a parliamentary committee, it didn’t show on his face. The Director of SAFE remained composed.
Carl leant forwards. “You sound almost as if you admire it.”
“As a patriot, Lord Marik, I’m outraged. As a professional, I want to learn everything I can about the operation so I can better defend against similar attacks – or emulate it should I be ordered to do so.”
Beside Carl his father nodded. His own face was stony. “What have you discovered so far?”
“Twenty operatives in total – four long term infiltrators, four more recent arrivals who risked using relatively insecure cover IDs, and a twelve-man strike team who were completely black. Seven were killed rather than be captured and it’s believed that thirteen of them escaped the yards. At this time there’s only one jumpship they could have used to escape the system and we’re looking for it – if not then they’ve gone to ground somewhere on Loyalty.”
“Twenty men and women have cost us more than a billion dollars a head – and more than that, they’ve cost us time. You’re correct to call this economic,” Kenyon Marik agreed. “The drive assembly station alone will keep us from laying down new warships at Loyalty until 2783 at the earliest and losing the lensing facility cuts our production of capital grade lasers in half.”
“Did you manage to ID the people responsible?” David Stewart was the only one present who showed the frustration that Carl felt. Loyalty didn’t lie within his province but he had substantial investments in SelaSys, making them his people in some ways.
The death toll when the explosives tore through the space stations had run into the hundreds even before tonnes of broken metal was blasted across the shipyard. Warships, even under construction, could take that battering but more than a thousand yard workers had taken damage to their spacesuits. Hasty patches had saved some from death but even a brief exposure to vacuum meant months of hospitalization so the workforce needed to make even minimal repairs had been decimated.
“If you mean the operatives then we have enough to work with on a search, although there are no guarantees on such a matter. As to who they are working for, their tradecraft was excellent. The most I can say at the moment is that the four recent arrivals entered the League via the Commonwealth.”
Carl shook his head. “Which doesn’t prove anything. Isn’t it likely they were working for House Davion? After all, the Federated Suns has targeted Capellan and Draconian shipyards recently.”
“It’s the most probable answer but there remains no evidence to that effect,” Winslow told him calmly. “The theory is plausible, but I would be lying if I said I was sure that it was correct.”
Kenyon Marik nodded. “For one thing, the methodology is different. The attacks on Chatham and Capella were carried out by warships, not saboteurs.”
“Quite so. In many ways this is more similar to the attack on the Lycomb factory on Demeter that sparked the Border War in 2760.”
The younger Marik barely remembered the incident but he nodded. “I take your point. And if someone else is responsible then they could be planning on blame falling on John Davion.”
His father looked around the room and frowned in thought. “Despite the clash at Lutyen, it’s unlikely that John Davion considers our fleet to be a major threat to him. While we have one of the most powerful fleets in the Star League, we have to defend our own borders first so it would be hard for me to justify sending more than modest force as far as the Federated Suns. Between them the Confederation and the Draconians have lost almost fifty warships so far and they have no immediate prospect of replacing them, but they were right on his doorstep. Targeting us makes less sense when there are Terran yards supporting the operations directly against him.”
Stewart’s nostrils flared. “Who does that leave?”
“There are only so many governments to consider.” Kenyon leant back. “The Periphery are thus far holding the ceasefire and Kerensky is too hidebound to consider such actions so once we exclude Davion that leaves the five member-states. Your thoughts, Carl?”
I think this is a test. Nonetheless, he considered the options. “The Combine and the Confederation would both likely prefer that our fleet be weakened comparably to their own but it would be a considerable risk for them to take if evidence came to light blaming them – they’re already on the frontlines of a war. You’ve always told me that only a fool invites war on two fronts.”
“Barbara Liao is not entirely a fool,” Kenyon told him. “And Minoru Kurita has personally taken charge of the fighting on Robinson so it is probable he is entirely involved there.”
“The Terran Hegemony might have similar interests and concerns but the SLDF is entirely handling that front of the war so the HAF isn’t involved, but they’re so intent on rebuilding… and would they have recovered to the point they can try something this ambitious?”
“Winslow?” enquired his father.
“It’s very unclear how much of Star League Intelligence Command defected to Keith Cameron but we know that some of the Special Forces Command’s teams returned to Terran service when he recalled the Royals. He undoubtedly has some capability.”
“On the other hand, the HAF is still far smaller than we are. Would McEvedy risk it? He’s currently campaigning for formal election as Director-General,” Carl recalled. “The timing seems as if it could backfire for him.”
“A valid point. That leaves one possibility.”
Carl was about to agree but then shook his head. “Respectfully, father, two possibilities.”
“Oh?”
“Internal action within the League. We have three major shipbuilders and the rivalry is intense. Irian Technologies have been accused of industrial espionage before, albeit not on this scale.”
“You think that that’s likely?” Kenyon asked coldly.
He hesitated and then shrugged. “I don’t think we should rule it out too easily. The alternative is that this is Lyran action – they’re the only other state still in the Star League with their major warship yards intact and crippling our fleet would leave Steiner free to draw forces from our border to reinforce his adventurism against the Rim Worlds Republic.”
“And I wish them well of each other.” The Captain-General sounded almost sincere until you considered the context. “Officially we’ll be working on the assumption this was Davion work – it will play well with the media. Unofficially, the fact is that this weakens us relative to the Lyrans and that isn’t acceptable even if they turn out not to have been behind it.”
Earl Stewart frowned. “What are you planning, Kenyon?”
Winslow cleared his throat. “In order to accommodate the limits that this incident places on our maintenance schedule, the navy will be recalling its Aegis-class ships and placing them in a temporary squadron stationed over Loyalty to secure the site and lower their operational tempo. Unofficially, two of them will undergo slight modifications so we can use them without their electronic signature being identified.”
“The same sort of thing we did in the forties and fifties,” the Earl noted. “And then?”
“The Bolson shipyards at New Kyoto will be subject to an unfortunate attack by Federated Suns cruisers,” Kenyon said quietly. “Obviously a continuation of the attacks on Capella, Chatham and now Loyalty.”
“Respectfully, sir.” Jared Humphreys had said nothing so far, simply watching and waiting. “If they’re correctly identified then it would be an act of war.”
“Young man, the Star League is not what it once was. It may very soon no longer be a factor in which case a strong Lyran Commonwealth, unscathed by the recent wars, would be a major problem.” The Captain-General shrugged. “There are, after all, many wealthy industrial worlds in the Terran Hegemony, such as Wasat with its own shipyards, who may be looking for a protector more able than James McEvedy. It would be preferable if the Steiners aren’t in a position to challenge that protection.”
There was a silence in the room at the implications of that statement, a silence broken by a chirp from Kellogg Winslow’s belt.
All eyes went to the director of the League’s intelligence agency, who removed a small communicator from his belt and scanned the message on its small screen. Then he straightened and looked at Carl’s father. “Sir, Coordinator Minoru Kurita has been captured and executed by John Davion.”
Carl’s jaw dropped.
“The source of your information?”
Winslow consulted the screen. “Davion announced it publicly, sir. Word must already have reached Terra, it’ll hit the media within hours, perhaps minutes.”
-
Pearl Harbor, Terra
Alliance Core, Terran Hegemony
29 April 2779
While Stefan Amaris had destroyed countless historical monuments, he had elected not to cause any further damage to the eight centuries old wreck on the bottom of the Battleship Row. He’d actually made a visit himself once, insisting on a private time to meditate over the remains of the USS Arizona. The orders keeping the museum empty had never been rescinded and for the rest of his reign no one had been allowed near the ship. Why he’d taken an interest and why he’d kept the museum closed remained mysteries (although Daniel Mattlov personally thought he’d just forgotten the order and no one had dared take the initiative to ask permission to re-open it).
However, after only modest cleaning up, it had been open for visitors again for years. This visitor hadn’t demanded that he be allowed to view the long-sunken warship alone though. Instead he shook hands with other tourists, patted children on their heads and took the time to explain the history behind the memorial to his daughter and several other children that his security allowed within earshot.
(One of the museum staff had recorded the explanation and Mattlov suspected it would be on offer as an audio guide within a week – after all, it had been said in public so there was no legal barrier to doing so).
“Are you still campaigning for popular affection?” Daniel asked sarcastically as they left. Young Sarah McEvedy had run ahead to make sure that she secured the best seat in the helicopter along with her teddy bear. She was still at the age that parental assurance it was the best seat overcame any objective judgement. Actually, it was the one with the lowest percentage chance of injury to the person in it should the helicopter need to make a crash landing.
“Always. Cameron – the Dick, not Keith or Helena – damaged the Director-Generalship almost as badly as Amaris.” McEvedy looked around the harbour. “Besides it’s good to be out of the office once in a while.”
“You’re right about that.”
“And as the Minister of the Navy, isn’t this something you should be interested in?”
“Maybe if it was one of the carriers,” Mattlov replied with feigned indignation. “I was never on one of the battlewagons.” He followed McEvedy’s gaze across the water. “Of course, it turned out the carriers were what mattered. Interesting how we seem to forget the lessons and have to learn them all over again.”
“More depressing than interesting.” McEvedy glanced ahead to make sure his daughter was still out of earshot. “Have you heard anything from your friends in the SLDF about what’s going on in the Draconis Combine?”
“Only in terms of their immense frustration. I gather that Minister Blake is fit to be tied as well.”
The Director-General nodded. “It’s got shades of what happened during the Amaris Coup – not being able to speak to the Coordinator. But even then MiniCom were still able to provide communication to and from Star League facilities in the Combine.”
Minoru Kurita’s execution, with video footage provided raw to every news outlet in the Federated Suns had leaked across the rebel state’s boundaries almost immediately – to the point it had even out-paced the formal notification and warning that John Davion had sent to Terra and the other capital worlds.
Atrocities would not be met in kind, they would be repaid with highly specific targeting of anyone involved for execution – or assassination. Whether such actions had taken place in the Draconis Combine as the remains of Minoru Kurita’s army returned to their footholds across the border was a matter of intense interest to the Inner Sphere but the new Coordinator had ordered HPG stations secured by his own troops and at least some of Fifteenth Army was supporting the efforts. As a result, there was no news coming out of the Draconis Combine and probably very little going in.
Mattlov shrugged. “Taking over Caph involved a mountain of paperwork and that’s just one world. I’d imagine young Zabu Kurita has a lot on his plate with responsibility for hundreds of them dropping on his shoulders.”
“Yes, but one of those responsibilities is to talk to his peers.” McEvedy looked at the helicopter and then paused, stepping to one side to look down at the water. “I wanted to ask a favour of you.”
“A favour? I’m a duke of the Hegemony and one of your ministers. That more or less obligates me to you, if I understand the oaths I took.”
“Daniel, this isn’t something those oaths cover.” The older man looked over at him. “I need a chain of succession. Richard Cameron II underlined that an underage heir is disastrous and as much as I love Sarah there’s no way of knowing if she’ll grow up fit to wield the responsibilities of office. Now I have the mandate of being elected as Director-General I’m going to go to the Hegemony Congress and request the creation of a new office, the Deputy Director-General.”
“An appointed successor? You know that won’t go down well – people love the stability of a dynasty.”
“They didn’t love the Dick once they saw what they were dealing with. And there’s nothing to say I can’t appoint Sarah to the position once she’s old enough, if she shows she’s fit. But until then I want someone responsible to hold the position.”
“Who do you have in mind?” He saw McEvedy levelling a put upon look at him. “Oh hell, no. Why me? You know I’m no politician.”
“That’s why I want you. You’re a stubborn, pig-headed ass at times, Daniel, but no one doubts for an instant where you stand. If something happens to me then I want that backbone in my chair, glaring back at them, yelling back if that’s what it takes.”
“Why not Hayes? I thought she was your golden girl?”
“Lauren is a fine officer but she’s not a policymaker. She needs someone to follow, someone to focus her loyalty upon. Once that was Kerensky, now it’s me… Without that direction, she’d be in trouble. Maybe she’ll grow into such a role, but I can’t wait around and see if it does. You don’t have that problem – hell, how many times have you made decisions that push the boundaries of your office and then told me after the fact?”
Mattlov took hold of the fence separating the walkway to the helipad from the waters below. “I can’t be your best choice here.”
“Right now, that’s exactly what you are: the nobility knows you’re one of them; the military – both the army and the navy – respect your credentials with the SLDF; the other ministers all know you and the public’s learning your name too.”
“Sir… James, really. Why are you asking me to do this?”
McEvedy looked over at the helicopter. His daughter was looking out at them. “If I die when she’s a kid, what happens to her? Growing up spoiled and entitled is the best case scenario. More likely there would be a civil war and our neighbours carving out protectorates. As my heir she’d be a political target. I don’t want her to have to deal with that.”
“Daddy!” Sarah McEvedy called. “Uncle Dan! Are you coming?”
“We’re coming, Sarah!” her father replied.
Mattlov looked at the girl and groaned. “Okay, damn you. Just don’t go dying, I don’t want to have to explain that to her.” The two of them started walking again towards the helicopter.
“That’s one promise I can’t make, as Minoru Kurita just demonstrated. So, thank you.”
They reached the helicopter and Mattlov strapped himself in while McEvedy saw to his daughter before taking his own seat. The engine rumbled to life and moments later the helicopter had them high over Pearl Harbor. Sarah glued herself to the window, watching the port shrink beneath them.
“Sir, you have a call.”
McEvedy looked up. “Personal?”
The crew chief shook his head. “Sorry sir, business.”
The Director-General’s face said it all. “What’s going on in Geneva that they need to speak to me on my vacation?”
“It’s not Geneva, sir. It’s the SLDF headquarters at Unity City.”
“Daddy?” asked Sarah.
McEvedy sighed. “The perils of being popular, sweetie. Let me get this out of the way so they’re not bothering us at the beach.”
“’kay.”
He took the handset. “This is McEvedy.” Pause. “Alright, yes I did say update me, but…” Pause. “I see. Okay, I’m going to hand you off to the Deputy Director-General, he’s cleared for this.” He did exactly that and showed his empty hands to Sarah. “All done!”
Mattlov rolled his eyes and lifted the handset to his ear. “Hello?”
“Sir?”
“This is Navy Minister Daniel Mattlov. Also Deputy Director-General as of the past five minutes.”
“Congratulations, sir. This is Colonel Williams at SLDF Member-State Liaison. Our intel shop has a priority update on the situation in the Combine.”
“Right.” He leant in his seat and looked out the window. I’d rather be flying this thing, even if it is just a whirlybird. “So, what’s the bad news?”
“We’ve had reports advising that General Nakazono has issued direct orders to his divisional commanders to redeploy to a staging area – exact location isn’t known yet.” Williams sounded as if he couldn’t believe what he was saying. “The General’s appealing to them for support in dethroning House Kurita.”
“What? It sounded like you just said…”
“You heard correctly, sir. General Nakazono is attempting to overthrow Coordinator Kurita, sir. Until the situation clarifies, we’ve had to designate Fifteenth Army as… in a state of mutiny.”
.o0O0o.
Fort Callaghan, Sinope
Galedon District, Draconis Combine
6 May 2779
Hachiman hadn’t been that bad as a posting, Marge Pritchard thought as she walked through the rain to the command post. Sinope was definitely a step down on par with the news she had today. On the border with the Outworlds Alliance it had once been a fortified staging post with three major bases to support operations by Fifteenth Army.
Now Fort Callaghan was the only base still in SLDF hands and instead of a full division the garrison was a hodgepodge of units scraped together as much because they could be shipped out on a single dropship as anything else. It had been three weeks before the facilities were restored to the point they even moved into quarters off the Excalibur-class dropship that had brought them here.
The SLS Johnston was still acting as the battlegroup command post, as if by keeping some functions aboard it the troops could cling to it as a lifeline. As long as the dropship was there, they could act as if this posting was just temporary.
Alois Ranson was waiting at the gangway, a flimsy in hand. He offered it wordlessly to her once she was out of the rain. Pritchard waved it away and removed her coat first, shaking it in the direction of the door to get as much water off it as she could.
“There’s a rack with some heaters,” the gunner offered. “Can hang it there to dry while we’re meeting.”
“Sure,” she sighed and traded the coat for the flimsy. As Pritchard followed him up the stairs to the troop decks she compared the contents of the two documents. Great. Just about as bad as she’d expected.
“Evenin’ Marge.” Elijah Slade rose and offered his hand as she entered the room. The infantry battalion commander was a big man and the hand he offered her was metal – a replacement for the one he’d lost to a mine in the fighting for Lyons back in 2772.
“It’s an evening, I’ll say that for it.” Marge gave Koopman and Steuben looks before she took the seat at the head of the table. Most of the officers were present and a fair spread of NCOs – her bringing her entire tank crew instead of a Sergeant Major wasn’t more than moderately eccentric. Taking the colonel’s seat crossed that line though and there was a stir of interest. “We missing anyone?” she asked.
“Colonel Cranston’s not here yet,” Slade pointed out quietly.
“He’s not gonna make it.”
“Why not?” asked someone from the back.
Pritchard kicked her feet up onto the table and crossed them at the ankles. “Because he’s inside of a bottle,” she said bluntly. “And I can’t blame him.”
Everyone had their ways of dealing with what they’d seen since 2764. Except for one day a year, Cranston had kept his drinking to a glass before he went to bed. Everyone knew what happened the other day, the anniversary of when then then-Major Erik Cranston made it home, and the battalion of tank crews he’d brought with him into the battle group had their own way of handling complaints about it. Of course, that had been mid-March.
Slade shrugged. “Anything on the docket that won’t wait until tomorrow?” he asked awkwardly.
“Yep. And in my professional opinion, tomorrow won’t be any better.”
“What’re you saying?” demanded Ellie Sutherland. She was one of Cranston’s tankers, the B Company commander. “We all know he has bad days.”
Pritchard shook her head. “I’d say the straw that broke the camel’s back was this.” She waved the flimsy she’d brought with her. “We have orders. Two sets in fact. One from Corps headquarters, one from General Nakazono himself.”
“What do they say?”
She spread them out on the table. “Has everyone here seen the news from Robinson?” She didn’t need to specify what news. “Put it another way, did anyone not watch it?”
No one spoke up.
“Okay. Ugly facts being ugly facts… General Nakazono’s given orders to all of Fifteenth Army. We’re to commandeer such transport is needed and rendezvous at Iijima. The mission statement is to remove Coordinator Zabu Kurita and impose martial law on the Draconis Combine.”
There was a dead silence.
Steuben raised his hand as if he was in the classroom. “How would anyone tell the difference?” he asked mildly, voice merely curious.
“That’s not funny,” Slade said irritably.
The gunner frowned. “I withdraw the question,” he replied coolly, eyes fixed on the infantryman.
“Corps Command have a slightly different set of instructions,” Pritchard continued. “General Lowell advises that we should ignore any instructions that don’t come through proper channels and remain on station here on Sinope. Couple of obvious problems with that.”
“Like what?” asked Sutherland. “Nakazono’s gone insane.”
“The universe is insane, otherwise why would a pack of jumped up monkey-descendants be out here in the first place.” Pritchard deliberately crumpled up the Corps orders into a ball. “Firstly, proper channels are for General Lowell to send orders to divisional command and for them to relay instructions to us. Might be a little difficult since I’m not sure we even have a divisional command post since Onofre and half her staff bolted across the border to join DeChevilier’s Pentagon League.”
She threw the ball over her shoulder into a corner of the room. “Second, Tai-sa Holman of the PSL has his hand up Lowell’s ass so far you can see his fingers when the general opens his mouth.” The Professional Soldiery Liaison was the DCMS bureau concerned with regulating their interactions with mercenaries and, since the Amaris Coup, with the SLDF. The extent to which they saw a difference had always been questionable.
“Cut the crap, Pritchard. Where are you going with this?” Sutherland demanded.
“We have no air support,” she said flatly. “We can probably get a jumpship but as soon as we do the DCA will be after us and the Johnston can’t hold off more than a squadron of their fighters. As soon as more than that turns up we’re dead, so going to Iijima is suicide.”
“Then we have no choice but to follow Lowell’s orders.”
“Don’t we? Because let’s just be clear: if we take John Davion’s word for it then the DCMS treated Robinson basically the way the Rimjobs treated the Hegemony worlds. And I have an issue with that.”
Slade stood up slowly. “Question is – and I never served with him – is John Davion’s word good?”
“Yeah, it is. You think Kerensky would have made him a General if it wasn’t?”
“Pritchard’s right,” agreed Captain Zibler. Federated Suns born, he commanded their one company of BattleMechs and had had to tread carefully since their arrival here. “I’m not fond of him seceding but at the same time, he told us exactly why he was doing that. There’s no point in him lying about it.”
“So, what do we do then? If we can’t go and we can’t stay?”
“I said we couldn’t go to Iijima, Slade. If we go the other way then they’ll be looking for us in the wrong direction. It’s only two jumps from here to the Alliance and from there we have options. Follow Onofre out to the Pentagon League, work our way around the periphery to the Rim Worlds and offer Kerensky our services…” She paused. “Or if anyone’s inclined to, chances are pretty good the Alliance would let us cross the border into the Federated Suns.”
“That would be treason. All this is treason,” Sutherland pointed out. She had her hand on her sidearm. “Major Pritchard, I’m taking you into…”
“If the next word out of your mouth is custody,” Steuben told her quietly, “then you and I will have a regrettable falling out, Captain.” The gunner didn’t have his own sidearm out but he was tensed and ready. Koopman’s own pistol was in his hand but pointed at the ground and behind Sutherland, Ranson had somehow produced an SMG on an assault-sling from under his uniform jacket.
“You’re not entirely wrong, Captain. I’m sure this will be called treason. And if anyone wants to stay here, I’m fine with that. Those who feel the way I do, can come with me. I’m pretty sure I know where my battalion stands, I suggest you poll your troops. If crews split, we can figure something out about equipment.”
The room seemed to hang in the balance for a moment and then Zibler glanced towards the door. “Yeah. Sick of those bastards calling me a gaijin anyway. I’ll see what my company want. I figure most of them are no happier than you are.”
Junior officers began nodding in agreement and Sutherland’s face sunk. She let go of the laser pistol. “I’ll speak to the Colonel.”
“Go right ahead.” Pritchard gestured to the door. “If you can sober him up, you’ll be doing better than I managed.”
The room emptied after Sutherland left, officers and NCOs talking about what they would do. Win or lose, at least there was some energy to their conversation, Pritchard thought.
Slade paused at the door. “Where will you be going, Major? The Federated Suns?”
She shrugged. “After all this time being called a soldier-for-hire by Tai-sa Holman’s crew, maybe I’ll give it a try. Not sure I’d like the fit of a Davion uniform but his money spends as well as anyone’s and I’m pretty much done following causes. Maybe working for money won’t leave a sick taste in my mouth the way the last year or so has.”
-
Minoru got exactly what he deserved. It was the Light of Mankind that blew up the Loyalty shipyards. Damned blakists, They are everywhereeven three hundred years in the past.
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Time traveling Blakies? They're not exactly the Legends of Tomorrow team...
Nice piece about the 15th Army, but somehow I think the ISF has a plan in place already to handle tis contingency... ranging from DEST all the way up to nukes.
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Time traveling Blakies? They're not exactly the Legends of Tomorrow team...
Nice piece about the 15th Army, but somehow I think the ISF has a plan in place already to handle tis contingency... ranging from DEST all the way up to nukes.
Minoru got exactly what he deserved. It was the Light of Mankind that blew up the Loyalty shipyards. Damned blakists, They are everywhereeven three hundred years in the past.
Sounds more like Loki.
To be honest, from what I can tell all of the major powers have such black ops teams.
Yet more great writing Drakensis - this really is wonderful stuff.
I'm not sure what the best thing to do with Minoru Kurita was, perhaps sending him home in disgrace would have been even more disruptive but it sounds as though the Draconis Combine is about to do a FWL impression anyway. What makes this so superb is that you (Drakensis) get a real feel for the characters so that their actions seem internal consistent which is, so far as I understand, one of the hardest things to capture.
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Loki or the Maskirova. I could see either one.
I wonder how much of the Hegemony declares for Davion?
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Time traveling Blakies? They're not exactly the Legends of Tomorrow team...
Well if anyone was going to do time traveling missions I could see the WOB doing it
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Excellent choice for Minoru's execution, even as unexpected as it was! :thumbsup:
I have to say, I save steak, blue cheese and fajita vegetables for when I'm reading these updates. I can't think of a more fitting meal when watching this alternate history play out... :drool:
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Okay, didn't see the civil war coming, and death by gassing..nasty. This basically removes one of the players from the game as the Dragon fights with itself. The times they are a changing.
Excellent updates.
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After a good night's sleep, it strikes me Davion's announcement will make it quite a bit harder for Marik to blame him for the shipyard attack...
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Fort Bourgogne, Marlette
Crucis March, Federated Suns
16 May 2779
Baltazar Liao had never seen one of the fabled Castles Brian that guarded the Terran Hegemony. It was extraordinary to think that they must be far more heavily fortified than Fort Bourgogne, which burrowed into the ground beneath the ring of surface defences.
His escort, in theory an honour guard but more likely to make sure he didn’t wander off and get lost in the tunnels, brought him through a bewildering maze to the command post. While he’d gone through passages narrow enough that only two men could go abreast, there must be larger routes since the post was a tower that stretched from the floor to the ceiling of a wider cavern, and a pair of BattleMechs stood guard on it. Granted, only thirty-ton UrbanMechs but anyone who came down here with dismounted infantry would find themselves faced with a dreadful challenge.
One of the ‘Mechs moved over and authenticated their credentials before the Confederation heir was allowed into the tower itself.
General Lucas’ office was mid-way up the tower, an unassuming room. Of course, it was a captured Federated Suns facility rather than a SLDF stronghold intended to house the Commanding General so allowances should be made.
“General Lucas,” he greeted the man. “May I present my mother’s compliments?”
Lucas gave him a thoughtful look. “Literal compliments?”
“More specifically, she has decided to ennoble you into the ranks of Capellan nobility,” Baltazar explained warmly. “The title of Mandrinn and some estates on Almach to be specific. A rare honour for someone born outside the Confederation.”
“Rare indeed. I am deeply honoured by the Chancellor’s regard, but I fear it would conflict with my duties as Commanding General to accept such a title and estate. Please assure her that declining these… compliments is in no sense a detriment to the regard in which I hold your lady mother.”
“Of course, General, I would not wish to place you in a difficult position and I am sure my mother will understand.” Also, he’d won five hundred dollars off his brother Barnabas who’d thought Lucas would accept the offer but not remain bought. Baltazar had had confidence that the Commanding General had learned a great deal of politics over the past few years.
Lucas gestured to the coffee table and the comfortable seats around it. Freshly brewed tea and coffee sat upon it. “I realise this hospitality can’t compare to that available on New Earth, but we can at least sit down.”
Accepting some of the green tea – something of a national stereotype, Baltazar admitted – the young lord took a seat. “While this may not quite be the frontlines, naturally the conditions on campaign lack a little of the comforts of home.”
“I imagine I’ll be moving forwards to Markesan before the end of the year,” Lucas confided. “May I hope that Capellan forces have been enjoying similar successes?”
Damn him, he knows. “Regrettably not. We have suffered an unfortunate reverse over Tikonov.”
“I heard that. I must say that I feel it was ill advised to make the attempt with so little escort.”
“We were led to believe that only one carrier group would be able to respond. The presence of the Prinz Eugen was outside of our calculations. And yet troops were landed successfully. The operation came closer to success than you might think.”
“In my experience, Lord Liao, the closer one feels one is to success then the higher losses are likely to be. Only actual victory can validate such a belief and the fact is that the troops landed on Tikograd were encircled and destroyed.”
Baltazar clenched his fist. “Had we had just a few more ships or regiments then we would have retaken the world – and secured your flank.” The Prinz Eugen, a Texas-class battleship, had made short work of CCAF destroyers and corvettes seeking to close with the carrier she was escorting, while the two Soyal class cruisers that might have equalled the fight had fallen prey to the fighters from that same carrier. Ironically, both the Eugen and the Renata Dokovic were ships provided to the FSN by the SLDF, if in different fashions.
“As the Laconians once told a Macedonian: if.” Lucas sipped on his own coffee. “What is it you want of me, Lord Liao?”
“We are mustering our forces for a second liberation force of Tikonov. Doubtless Davion’s spies will have told him of this, but he would not expect it if you were to reinforce our own with a second task force. I know that you have a fresh reserve of soldiers – the four Corps of the Sixteenth Army that have withdrawn from the Free Worlds League.”
“Those Corps are heavily understrength,” Lucas pointed out. “And I need them as reinforcements for my own operations.”
“But if the SLDF worked with us, the threat from Tikonov would let you draw down the garrisons on your flank and -”
“By God, you are shameless!” the general exclaimed, putting his coffee mug down firmly. “Do you forget already that General al-Tarawneh committed all that remained of V Corps to your attack on Tikonov. Not one of those three divisions managed to escape!”
“Sir,” Baltazar pointed out. “If we do not take Tikonov then the brave General and his people died for nothing.”
“That is much my opinion already. No, I will not send more SLDF forces to the Confederation so your recruiters can subvert them. I’m sure I’m not the only officer who’s been offered titles and estates by the Chancellor, so many have left the ranks to take Capellan service. General Ros has informed me that she’s having to consolidate the remaining forces of the Eighteenth Army into a single Corps to make good their losses in that regard.”
“I regret to suggest this of the general, sir, but having served so long in the Free Worlds League it’s possible a certain antipathy to the Confederation has crept into her view. We have sincerely welcomed your weary veterans to our worlds and there can surely be nothing sinister that some have chosen to retire.”
“You don’t know General Ros very well if you think she’s fond of the League. I remember hearing stories of how her division had to all but scavenge for supplies when they were stationed on Irian, the Mariks all but strangling their supply lines through legal dodges – Irian, one of the largest sources of military supplies in the Free Worlds League! I can assure you that the Federated Suns never treated our soldiers as shabbily.”
Lucas rose to his feet. “No, Lord Liao. If you can persuade General Ros to support your operations further then I will not second-guess her decisions. But I will not force her to join in if she feels your preparations will be as inadequate as they must have been in the previous operation.”
Baltazar bit back his first response and took a deep breath. “If that is your final decision, then I have no choice but to accept it. I hope that your continued operations will indeed bring us victory over the Federated Suns.”
“And I hope that your own operations find some success,” conceded Lucas. “Or at least can avoid the mistakes made by House Kurita.”
“I can assure you we have no intention of causing such atrocities, even were we not fighting for one of our own worlds.” Damn Kurita, his idiocy had soured relationships between the SLDF and all the House Militaries, despite the fact that only the DCMS had been so savage as to actually turn on civilians.
“I’m pleased to hear your commitment to that,” the Commanding General agreed. “Only the Hegemony Armed Forces have thus far taken such a stance.”
Baltazar paused. “Lord Marik and Lord Steiner have not?”
“They have not. I would hesitate to express an opinion as to why.”
Marik is too proud and Steiner too paranoid, the younger man thought. “I suppose it would be impolitic of me to speculate. Thank you for your time, General. I appreciate you’re busy so with your permission I’ll discuss the other matters I came here for, the munitions contracts that have been offered, with your logistics staff directly.”
.o0O0o.
Huston, Robinson
Draconis March, Federated Suns
5 June 2779
It would be easy for Jack to throw himself into the reconstruction of Canaan. To spend his time helping Susan Sandoval to put her world back in order. There were refugees seeking to return to homes that might not exist and tens of thousands of bereaved who wanted – needed – to know that their suffering had not been forgotten. He’d spent more than a month coordinating recovery efforts as it was, while the new leadership of the Draconis March settled into their roles.
But there was also the wider Federated Suns to think about, as Hanse reminded him. The news from the Crucis March wasn’t getting any better. If Markesan fell to the SLDF then they’d be almost as close to New Avalon as the DCMS had been at the height of the First Succession War – and while it had taken Jinjiro more than a decade in that history, Jack Lucas had managed it with the SLDF in less than two years.
“I hope your plan works, sire.” Thomas-Green Davion had arrived two days before, two days mostly spent introducing him – or reintroducing him – to the people he’d be working with. Of course, having served in the War of Davion Succession and holding an estate on the border he wasn’t a stranger to the Draconis March but now he would be heading their government, second only to the First Prince in his civil authority over more than a hundred worlds. “There’s only so much our soldiers can offer and casualties are beginning to rise.”
John swirled the dregs around the bottom of his glass. “It’s a gamble. If the special units perform as expected then we have a good chance. Francesca Reznick confirms that the cracks are there – hit them hard enough and it all comes apart.”
“Strange to be on this side of the issue. Ten years ago, we were trying to save the Star League and now…”
“The irony is enough to choke me sometimes.” John set the glass down. “Nicoletta Calderon seems to appreciate it, to judge by the diplomatic correspondence I get from the Taurians.”
Thomas reached over to the decanter and offered his cousin a refill. “What did that bitter old viper have to say?”
“She asked how my feet felt, being crammed into her shoes.” He declined and reached for the water jug instead. He’d be leaving in the morning and taking off with a hangover didn’t sound like a great idea. Alternating water with the brandy should spare him the worst of it.
“What did you say?”
“That I was doing this for my people’s sake and she’d done it for Amaris’ sake.”
Thomas had just sipped on his own brandy and his eyes went wide, manfully trying not to spit it over the table. He coughed and hammered on his chest with the heel of one hand. “You didn’t!”
“No, but it was tempting.” John sat back. “I just ignored it. Let her think what she likes.”
“Long may she reign. I’ve met her son Semyon and he’s not even half as intelligent.” The older man set his half-finished glass down and took a fresh glass to fill with cold water. “Dammit John, I almost did myself an injury there. And wasted some very good brandy.” He sipped. “Hell, she’s twenty years younger than I am. What am I worried about?”
“Are you feeling them?”
“More and more. I can handle this for a few more years but I don’t think I could take a battlefield command again.”
John nodded. “Susan seems like safe hands for the military side of things. And I can only stall a few years before the High Council confirms her brother as Minister – they’re not happy with the precedent but none of them want to have to explain to Edwina why they’re siding with someone who tried to strangle Joshua.”
Thomas grunted. “Is that why you’re out here and not on New Avalon? She’s not going to be happy with you, either.”
“I’d rather get that over with. It’s not as if she’s got no right to be angry.” He sipped on the water again. “Hopefully the Combine’s in such confusion that they’ll be out of the war for the immediate future.”
“Retaking Marduk will finish pushing them back across the border. Are you sure Mark’s ready for the responsibility? There are SLDF troops there as of the last report.”
John nodded. “That’s why I sent him with the Davion Guards – with a couple of years as the liaison to Kerensky he’s had more contact with Fifteenth Army than most of my officers have. And if they want a fight the Guards are the best equipped to handle them.”
“Carrot and stick.”
“It’s old but it -”
Both men turned to the door as someone knocked on it. Unless it was urgent or very important, no one should be interrupting them. John saw Hanse walk through the door, face twisted into an amused smile. Not bad news then, or at least not for us.
“Come in,” John called and the door opened to reveal Susan Sandoval.
“Sire, sorry to interrupt your drinking.”
“Take the weight off your feet,” Thomas offered, gesturing to a free chair and pouring two fingers of brandy into another glass. “Whatever it is, the Prince won’t actually bite your head off.”
John rolled his eyes. “We’ll probably be working together for years, Field Marshal Sandoval. I don’t insist on formality in private.”
She closed the door behind her. “I’m not entirely sure what to make of the news we’ve just had sir, but it seemed like something you’d want to know right away.” She accepted the glass and sat down.
“Well don’t keep me on tenterhooks.”
“Several SLDF warships jumped into Hoff’s star system earlier today. To be more specific, five SLDF warships and one DCA ship, DCS Trondheim.”
John frowned. “An invasion force?”
“No, sir. Although there was more than a brigade of combat troops and most of a division’s support staff in dropships with them.” Susan sniffed the brandy and then sipped cautiously. “They offered their surrender, sir. From what they say – and the local commander believes them – they had to fight their way out of the Combine.”
“Fight their way out?”
She nodded earnestly. “They claim to be what’s left of the 311th BattleMech Division and their transports.”
“I thought they were with Eighteenth Army,” Thomas said in surprise. “Shouldn’t they be in Capellan space?”
“Their corps was reassigned to the Fifteenth Army after Terra was liberated,” John told him. “What the hell’s going on?”
“They were apparently on their way to Iijima, sir.”
“That’s deep inside the Combine. Why were they headed there and what took them to Hoff instead?”
“To the first question, sir, General Nakazono has apparently ordered the Fifteenth to regroup with a view to removing House Kurita. He wasn’t at all happy about what happened here.”
“Could that work?” Thomas asked. “An SLDF army would cut through the DCMS -”
John shook his head. “A pre-war army, yes, but he has three understrength Corps and they’re scattered across four hundred light years.”
Susan nodded. “Apparently, they were ambushed on the way by a squadron of DCA warships, including one of their cruisers refitted as a carrier. All that got away was one troop cruiser and a handful of escorts.”
“How did they get a DCA warship with them? Pursuit?”
“No, apparently Captain Matsui and his crew were broadly in agreement with General Nakazono and in dock when they heard the news. They smuggled their families aboard and threw in with the 311th, but after the bulk of their escort was wiped out they decided it was safer to take refuge in the Suns.”
“If Kurita’s started shooting at the SLDF… Lucas might take that badly.”
“Technically they’re mutineers,” John said slowly. “But even so…” He frowned in thought.
Hanse nodded eagerly. “The DCMS are demoralised and have to focus on stopping Nakazono. This is our chance to finish this front of the war off.”
“I don’t think they’re going to collapse,” John told Susan, “But it means we’ve got a very good chance of getting our occupied worlds back and securing our grip around Proserpina. I can’t give you the resources for more than that…”
Susan raised her glass. “That’s more than enough sir. Confusion to the Dracs!”
“I’ll drink to that,” said Hanse, although he was the only one who couldn’t and didn’t.
.o0O0o.
Imperial City, Luthien
Pesht District, Draconis Combine
16 June 2779
The holograms around Zabu Kurita showed him the magnificence of the Star League Council’s chamber, with its marble floor and columned walls. Yet those who sat at the table were curiously shrunken in comparison to its grandeur.
Including himself, only five sat at the table, which should have held ten. Captain-General Kenyon Marik was to Zabu’s left, then Director-General James McEvedy followed by Chancellor Barbara Liao and then Archon Robert Steiner. Although the Star League still claimed the fealty of the Rim Worlds, their Protector’s image wasn’t displayed in their customary seat.
“Welcome, Coordinator,” Chancellor Liao greeted him. She was of his mother’s generation and had led the Capellan Confederation since he was a small child. “There was concern that you might not attend this meeting.”
He inclined his head sufficiently to indicate humility, though not submission. He was junior here in both years and experience. “Your concern is kind but unnecessary. The Draconis Combine’s commitment to the Star League has not wavered with my accession to the Dragon Throne.” He turned to look across the table. “Are we awaiting Protector Kerensky?”
“We are not,” Robert Steiner grated. “He has no vote here, this council is for the Star League’s member states.”
“And yet he remains loyal, as others have not,” pointed out McEvedy. “Though they are a territory, the Rim Worlds should have a voice here.”
It had the air of a tired argument that the others had heard before. Liao raised her hand. “Gentlemen. Let us not bicker and instead put this to a vote. A vote of aye to approve the Protector’s participation and a vote of nay to oppose it. Your votes?”
“Nay,” said Steiner immediately and Marik was only a breath behind.
McEvedy voted “Aye” and looked to Zabu.
The young man considered the question. Honour should be granted to the general who had rid the universe of Amaris, a man his father and grandfather had respected. And yet, if Kerensky were to condemn the actions of Zabu’s father then James McEvedy – and worse, the SLDF’s current commander Jack Lucas – might be inclined to give support to Nakazono’s forces. “Let us not disturb the General’s retirement unless he is specifically needed,” he counselled. “The Combine votes nay.”
“Three votes of nay, the motion fails,” Liao concluded without casting her own vote.
Both Steiner and Marik seemed to relax. Not unpredictable, given their histories with Aleksandr Kerensky, thought Zabu. And HPG communication to the Rim Worlds must inevitably pass through the Lyran Commonwealth so I suspect that if we had invited him, technical difficulties would have ensued.
McEvedy opened the folder in front of him. “I believe our first topic today is a complaint made by Minister Blake. Coordinator, there have been reports of interference in the Ministry of Communications’ operations in the Draconis Combine.”
“Yes, there have been some distressing terrorist actions which we believe have been sponsored by House Davion.” Which was true, but nothing to do with the question that had been asked. Factories on Alshain and New Oslo had been seriously damaged with so-called ‘suitcase nukes’, which would slow the production of Alshain Weapons’ Panther BattleMech to a trickle. “The DCMS and SLDF units have moved to secure the HPG stations against future attacks and technical personnel are assisting Minister Blake’s people, such that I am able to attend this meeting. Normal service should, I am told, resume within a month or two.”
“Do you have specifics on the attacks?” asked Liao. “It would be concerning if we were to face similar terrorist activity.”
“I would have thought Minister Blake would have provided the details,” Zabu deflected. “The most distressing was Iijima of course, where the station was completely destroyed. If the Minister hasn’t informed you then my staff will send you all the data.” All of which would support his position, as the Voice of the Dragon did from within the media.
McEvedy narrowed his eyes. “And what of the reports that General Nakazono’s Fifteenth Army has been fired upon by the DCMS?”
“I hadn’t realised that I was to face an inquisition as to the internal affairs of my realm,” replied Zabu coolly. “There have unfortunately been elements of the Fifteenth Army who, like the Fourth and Sixth Armies two years ago, who have mutinied and offered their services to House Davion. Naturally loyal forces have moved to disarm the units in question and to establish which of their personnel are traitors and which simply saw no choice but to go along with the comrades around them.”
“Why haven’t we heard from Nakazono then?” asked Steiner.
“I couldn’t say, I’d assumed he was reporting directly to General Lucas. I know the General was relocating his headquarters when the HPG net was disrupted and we haven’t had further communications. I’ve been anticipating further contact, I hope he hasn’t encountered Davion raiders.” That would in fact be massively inconvenient. If General Nakazono started coordinating his campaign with the AFFS then both Benjamin and Galedon Districts would be in grave danger.
“He should hope not,” Steiner conceded gruffly. “One of his damn carrier groups made it as far as New Kyoto two weeks ago. How many of those things does he have?”
“Rather more than we had expected – but surely it must have been well defended, that’s one of your major shipyards, isn’t it?” noted Liao.
“They slipped in via a non-standard jump point – a carrier and two Aegis-class escorts and launched a long-range fighter strike.” Steiner grimaced. “The defenders took out almost all of the fighters but one of them caught a battlecruiser re-fuelling. Four thousand tons of hydrogen were released right as oxygen from the Invincible and its dock was leaking into the same space.”
“That must be terrible,” Marik said with what almost seemed like sympathy. “I hope casualties weren’t heavy – we lost thousands of people when his saboteurs attacked our SelaSys yards.”
“Heavy enough. It’ll be six months before Invincible is fit for service again and two slips need complete reconstruction.”
“Did you manage to catch the task force responsible?” asked McEvedy. “If they try to cross the Hegemony we might be able to catch them on their way home.”
“Two cruisers traced the fighters’ route back to the jump point but they were only in time to see the escorts jumping out,” Steiner replied bitterly.
Zabu leant back in his chair. “We’ve long believed that John Davion used the construction of the Boeing Megaplex at Galax to cover for the creation of a hidden shipyard deep inside the Crucis March. If that’s true then it’s hard to have a definite idea of how many warships he may have been building over the last few years.”
Liao nodded in agreement. “With the refit programme he was running and supporting SLDF maintenance requirements from his shipyards, he’s certainly added more ships – and new ships at that - than we can account for out of the three publicly known yards. A fourth shipyard would make the most sense.”
“Alas, in almost fifteen years of searching we haven’t managed to pin down a location for it.” The young coordinator steepled his fingers. “Of course, we know where his other three yards are. It’s unfortunate that with the loss of further warships around Robinson I can’t spare the ships from my realm’s defences to launch the sort of deep strike needed at this time.”
“We’ve also taken losses at Tikonov of late,” Liao murmured. “Still, perhaps with SLDF support something can be arranged. The McKenna yards at Kathil are only a few jumps from Capellan worlds.”
-
New Pontiac, Marduk
Draconis March, Federated Suns
28 June 2779
The three of them were meeting under a flag of truce. If it had just been the DCMS present then Mark Rand-Davion would have reserved doubts about the sanctity of that truce but if the SLDF were going along with it then it was probably an acceptable risk.
“I’m Lieutenant-General Emile Bocke of the Twenty-Fourth Mechanized Infantry,” the SLDF officer introduced himself as Mark entered the room at the spaceport. “I’d say welcome to Marduk, but under the circumstances…”
“I feel pretty welcome here already, it’s a Federated Suns world after all.” Mark accepted the hand and shook.
“It was a Federated Suns world, but Marduk looks now to the Dragon for protection.” The representative of the DCMS had broad shoulders and very little neck. “I am Sho-Sho Hara, commander of the Twenty-Third Galedon Regulars Division. I thought we were to meet a Davion but I do not recognise you.”
“We don’t always live public lives. I’m Major General Rand-Davion of the Davion Guards Assault Division.”
“Rand-Davion?”
“Yes, my grandfather was First Prince Richard Davion. I imagine you’ve heard of him?”
Hara raised an eyebrow. “Ah, so that would make you the whoreson.”
Out of the corner of his eye Mark saw Bocke flinch. So that was how it was. Did Hara think no one had thrown it in his face before? “I suppose that would have given me something in common with Jinjiro Kurita. Too bad we never met to compare notes, but my cousin spoke with him in ’62 and I gather I didn’t miss much.”
The Galedon Regular coloured. “How dare you!? Lord Kurita was the Coordinator’s son, the Heir to the Dragon Throne.”
“And now he’s a footnote in history. Did you request a meeting with me to discuss something or shall I go back to landing my Division? Given we’re at full strength -” Or close enough that he didn’t feel he was telling a lie. “- I don’t think that will go well for you.”
Bocke cleared his throat. “While we could make a fight of it and pin your division down for months, there would likely be heavy collateral damage and I’d prefer to avoid civilian casualties.”
Mark took a seat without waiting for an invitation. “And what alternatives do you wish to suggest?”
“If we were to withdraw, would you be able to guarantee safe passage? To Deshler, for example?”
“It’s within my authority. I’d need access to Marduk’s HPG to send such orders so that our navy was aware of such an agreement.” He leant forwards. “Of course, before I could agree to such a deal, I’d need to be sure that I’m not allowing war criminals to escape.”
“What do you mean by war criminals?” demanded Hara. “You are rebels and traitors, who are you to judge us?”
“Within my army are the regiments that verified the gassing of civilians on Robinson. Believe me when I say that is all the justification I would need to pass judgement on you if the same has been done here.”
“That is a lie. Davion propaganda!”
“If you don’t trust my word, Sho-Sho, then why are you trying to negotiate with me?”
“Clearly it is a waste of time!” Hara stormed towards the door, hesitating a second in the doorway as he saw that Bocke wasn’t following him. Then he huffed and continued out of the room.
Mark gave the SLDF officer a long look. “Should I offer sympathy?”
Bocke smiled tightly. “By his own lights, the Sho-Sho is an honourable man. I truly believe there have been no offenses against the civilians, if only because he would see it as beneath his regiments to commit such acts.”
“It was not beneath the honour of some other regiments of the DCMS so I’ll want to hear the same from the civilian government or whatever remains of it after a year and a half of occupation. If they say the same then I’m willing to offer safe conduct to Deshler.”
“If Hara isn’t going to accept it then could that be as far as Apollo?” Bocke asked ruefully. “I don’t think the Warlord of Galedon would be pleased if I withdraw and leave one of his divisions behind.”
“Our reach doesn’t go quite as far as the capital of the Rim Worlds Protectorate,” answered Mark wryly. “You’ve got what, a reinforced infantry regiment and what’s left of the divisional artillery and engineers?”
The Lieutenant-General almost nodded but then halted the movement. “Without an agreement I don’t believe I should divulge that.”
“Well do you have the dropships to carry them all?”
“Dropships, yes. The problem will be jumpships if we cannot call on the DCA for transport.”
“And neither the Combine nor the Lyran Commonwealth is likely to be sympathetic to more troops joining General Kerensky’s forces,” pointed out Mark. “I can get you to Le Blanc, after that civilian shipping could get you to the Outworlds Alliance if you can afford it. I gather there are some shipping lines there that run jumpships through the Periphery to the Protectorate.”
Bocke shook his head. “I was about to say yes, but how would I pay for the jumpships? If my men and I are… deserting, I suppose I have to call it, then the SLDF is unlikely to honour any promise I make them.”
“Do you have cash in local accounts?”
“Only so much as the DCMS were pleased to provide – enough for payroll and a few minor expenses.”
“How did you supply them with ammo and equipment – or food for that matter?”
“For that we had to depend on their largesse, such as it was,” Bocke admitted. “Usually it was forthcoming, as long as we were compliant with their suggestions. Usually.”
Mark nodded. “My uncle calls it the company store approach, something from the history books.”
“I came across the term when I was looking for ways to get around it,” agreed Bocke. “But it doesn’t change the fact I can’t pay for shipping, so I’d just be marooning my troops in your space without any means to support them.”
“It is a problem.” He shifted in his seat. “Perhaps we can -” A chirp from his arm caught his attention and he raised the infantry comm-gauntlet he was wearing up to his face. “Rand-Davion speaking.”
“Sir,” a tinny voice announced. “We’re picking up activity from the Galedon Regulars. Baker Company is mobilising to extract you.”
“Understood.” Mark stood. “I’m sorry, Lieutenant-General. I believe we’re out of time.”
Bocke stared at him. “Then I have no choice I suppose.” He unsealed the holster at his waist and Mark tensed only for the SLDF officer to hold the gun barrel and offer the grip to him, shamefaced. “I won’t sacrifice my men for Hara’s pride.”
Mark looked him in the face and then accepted the gun. “I accept your surrender, General. It occurs to me that there’s an alternative to a prisoner of war camp, one that would earn you the money to take your troops to the Rim Worlds, if you’re interested.” He gestured towards the door and the two men exited cautiously, looking out for DCMS soldiers.
“You have my full attention, General.”
“It’s also within my authority to hire on mercenary auxiliaries for my force. There’s plenty of precedent within both the AFFS and the SLDF for such arrangements.”
“And, respectfully, how can I be sure that we won’t also face the Company Store approach from the AFFS?”
“I think it would offend the very large number of former SLDF personnel we already employ, either directly or as mercenaries. Do we have a deal?”
Bocke studied Mark for a moment and then sighed. “Forty years of service and now I’m a merc,” he said at last. “Kerensky may spit on me, but at least he won’t turn my men away.” He offered his hand.
Mark accepted it and raised his comm-gauntlet. “Major, advise Brigadier Perez that the SLDF forces are to be designated as a neutral force, pending their CO getting back to their positions and letting them know we’re allies now.”
.o0O0o.
Tairahana Plains, Luthien
Pesht District, Draconis Combine
4 July 2779
The sky above Luthien was awash with fire. Some of the workers were speculating that it was an unannounced celebration – the Coordinator’s birthday? Or perhaps the new Coordinator had been blessed with a son? The more informed workers knew that the new Coordinator had been born early in the year, like his father. But none of them knew if he had a wife or child. The family of House Kurita were wrapped in a protective blanket of security until the children were old enough to be formally presented to their realm.
Coordinator Zabu Kurita was distantly aware that he would probably have to order some sort of explanation to keep the lower castes from concern. At the moment though, he had other concerns.
“The Shimoda and the Odawara have been destroyed,” an aide reported. “But they punched a hole in the rebel’s escort screen and our aerospace assets are exploiting it.”
“Add their captains and crews to the list for commendations,” Zabu instructed, leaning back in his command couch to contemplate the sky. It was his first battle and he had no control whatsoever.
There had been an inconclusive clash at Iijima and at the cost of a warship squadron, the Draconis Combine Admiralty had been able to determine the strength Nakazono had been able to assemble. Four full divisions had reached the rebel SLDF General’s assembly point, and enough detached regiments and brigades to make up a fifth. In escort he had had twenty warships – eighteen after the battle – and that number included SLS Palatine, a McKenna-class battleship.
For all their bluster, the DCA had no ship that could match the Palatine for size or firepower. Even the legendary, and now lost, Atago would have been outmatched.
Or rather, they had not had such a ship.
Zabu brought up the naval command feed on a secondary display and saw two glittering icons in high orbit, away from the rebel transport fleet. Palatine and her escorts had been forced to turn away from supporting the transports and potentially with providing orbital fire by a new threat.
Two Draconis Elite Strike Teams had boarded the SLS Nelson while she was refuelling, before Nakazono’s message had reached her. Surrounded by re-activated Naga-class destroyers and Vincent-class corvettes the battleship had been waiting for the rebels at Luthien’s nadir jump point on the plausible grounds that they hadn’t reached Iijima in time and knew no other system to make a rendezvous in.
Elated at these reinforcements, even if they were half the star system away, the general had adjusted his approach to meet them, buying two precious days for a convoy to reach Luthien with the Second and Fifth Pesht Regulars. It was ironic, Zabu thought, that the regiments shared the numbers of the two Sword of Light units destroyed under his brother’s command.
The re-christened DCS Jinjiro’s Sword had declared itself once enough time had passed for the Regulars to land safely and then broken away to reach Luthien and join the defences of the capital. The entire incident, hopefully, would have been a blow to the rebel’s morale. At first elation, then despair. It had certainly been cause for joy among Luthien’s defenders.
“Esteemed lord, it’s time to relocate.”
Zabu glanced up from the display of the two battleships exchanging long-range barrages of particle beam fire. “Very well, Tai-sa.”
His Dragon was painted black, matching that of at least a third of the reconstituted Otomo. Only a single company of twenty-five MechWarriors had been chosen so far, out of men who had already been through the rigorous selection process and (often without their knowledge) been shortlisted as possible replacements once the regiment returned from Robinson.
Now they would not and the Coordinator’s bodyguards had been assembled with haste that was almost unseemly. To bolster their limited numbers, the Sword of Light were deployed alongside them. The Eighth and Ninth Regiments were also understrength, only two companies each, but Zabu had had a hand in recruiting them from the regiments stationed in Rasalhague and that established a useful bond.
The red-painted ‘Mechs formed an outer perimeter as Zabu and his guards went into motion. The rebels could potentially drop directly onto the Imperial City so he had chosen to take the field directly, moving around the Tairahana Plains at short intervals so that he couldn’t be pinpointed by electronic intelligence gathering.
Up in the skies above, more light flared. The ancient Ares Conventions had forbidden the use of nuclear armaments within 75,000 kilometres of a planetary surface, but today the DCA had issued Alamo missiles to their aerospace pilots with instructions simply not to fire them at anything within the atmosphere. The military-grade hardened electronics didn’t flicker but more fragile civilian radios and holovid sets might be suffering.
“We have confirmed reports of drops,” the aide informed him as the BattleMechs stalked over the plain. “Two ‘Mech battalions over Skytower City, another near Amori with support from Land-Air ‘Mechs and Jump Infantry.”
Zabu nodded consideringly. Important industrial cities but they were on other continents, thousands of miles from the Imperial City. “What orders has Warlord Manati issued?” The Warlord of Pesht was in operational control of the defence, an important act of trust. With good fortune it should ensure the man didn’t align with Thomas Kurita’s faction within the court. Deprived of honourable combat for years due to his district’s interior location, Manati would nonetheless be pivotal if the succession were contested.
“Aerospace assets have been ordered not to enter the atmosphere and to focus on dropships that are still loaded.”
“Very good. The troops on the ground can handle minor landings.” The Ninth Sun Zhang Cadre’s ‘Mech regiment was at Fortress Sanethia, to the north of Amori, but their armour regiment and an infantry regiment were much closer, garrisoning the Arisaka Munitions Complex that was the likely target. Similarly, the planetary militia had been stated to protect Skytower’s Buda Weapons Sector. “They are nothing but diversions.”
Zabu had repositioned again before the next report from above. “Captain Niven aboard the Jinjiro’s Sword reports that the Palatine has been destroyed.”
“Excellent. And his own force?”
The aide hesitated. “Three destroyers and one corvette have been destroyed, including Cho-Sho Yuuki’s flagship.”
In the security of his cockpit, Zabu made a face. The commander of the squadron had insisted on remaining upon the ship he was familiar with, rather than taking advantage of the Jinjiro’s Sword’s better protection. “Relay my congratulations to Cho-Sho Niven.”
“Of course, esteemed lord!”
It was easy to promote an officer to command of a warship squadron, but harder to build that squadron. Twenty-nine SLDF warships had been seized to keep them from falling into Nakazono’s hands. But added to the losses at Iijima, the DCA had lost almost twenty warships now to suppress his revolt, and that didn’t count the vessels that would be left waiting for repairs until the Stellar Trek shipyards at Chatham could be replaced.
A particularly violent flare of light in the sky had Zabu checking the naval data again and his face tightened. DCS Kagoshima, the oldest Samarkand-class carrier still in service after its sister ship Irece had been lost at Robinson, had been overwhelmed by SLDF fighters carrying nuclear missiles. Clearly Nakazono was no more concerned than Zabu was about using such weapons in low orbit.
“Positive confirmation, sir. The remaining transport dropships are entering descent. Warlord Manati has ordered all aerospace fighters that still have missiles to withdraw and focus on the remaining rebel warships.”
Zabu wasn’t sure that a few upper atmosphere strikes would seriously add to the pollution in Luthien’s air, but the electromagnetic damage was another matter. “Descent zone?”
“Tairahana Plains, sir. The Warlord requests that you withdraw.”
“Please inform the Warlord that I am moving to join forces with Third Pesht Regulars at the Imperial City. No doubt any rebels that land will advance eastwards towards me. We shall be the anvil, the Second and Fifth Regulars the hammer.” It wasn’t a very sophisticated plan, but it was the one that had been discussed earlier and it would just cause confusion if Zabu altered it now.”
“Estimated enemy numbers are one BattleMech Brigade and approximately four regiments total of armour and mechanized infantry.”
That should be manageable, Zabu thought. Slayer aerospace fighters from the final reserve force stationed at the Imperial City screamed overhead as they climbed to engage the dropships and try to force them to scatter their formation. With good fortune the SLDF troops wouldn’t be able to concentrate their forces and could be swept up by the Regulars in penny-packets.
Of course, fortune had not favoured House Kurita of late, the Coordinator reminded himself. He forced himself to remain calm. At worst, if he died then Thomas Kurita would take the throne. It wouldn’t be Zabu’s first preference but the Kuritas would live on and that was what mattered.
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DEST comes through as usual.
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one hell of a setup and change. The dragon gets gassed and then starts falling apart and no one wants to ask the general to step up and help out. things are very much changing for good or bad and everyone is really lossing ships like mad and not being able to replace them at all aor very easy.
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Sucks to be the Dracs. Not that they haven't earned it. And the other Lords are still showing how much bigger their egos are than their capabilities.
It would be easy for Jack to throw himself into the reconstruction of Canaan.
Supposed to be John, not Jack, right?
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We're far enough from the original outline for it to no longer be a reliable guide. This is NOT a bad thing! :thumbsup:
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Anyone else checking to see if another "Davion & Davion (Deceased)" update has dropped, shortly after waking up in the morning? Drak great stuff.
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EVERY morning. I was so pissed when my tablet wouldn't connect to the internet...
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Every morning and every night after work! :thumbsup:
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We're far enough from the original outline for it to no longer be a reliable guide. This is NOT a bad thing! :thumbsup:
Hmmm... timeline drift... those Blakies are at it again.
But seriously, the Outline was great but this expansion is wonderful! Thanks Drakensis!
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Anyone else checking to see if another "Davion & Davion (Deceased)" update has dropped, shortly after waking up in the morning? Drak great stuff.
There should be an update within next two hours if the recent past is any indicator of future postings.
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Avalon City, New Avalon
Crucis March, Federated Suns
9 July 2779
John had taken a high-speed shuttle from the jump point to New Avalon orbit, a decision he was now regretting. His homeworld had three moons, which made the use of the transitory jump points they formed dangerous when they were close to being in alignment, the current situation. The point between New Avalon and the world’s star was clear of interference from the inner worlds but like all the more stable transitory points it had been heavily mined in case of an SLDF deep strike.
The shuttle had cut the usual week-long flight from the zenith jump point to four days but the sustained 2.0 gravities had hit him harder than he remembered. He hadn’t even been able to sleep well.
“Was it really worth it?” Hanse asked.
“Maybe not,” John agreed under his breath. He’d felt that the extra three and a half days would help him get back up to speed on events at the capital but right now he just wanted to spend those days sleeping.
“I’d offer to sit on the meetings for you, but it would be hard to explain,” the ghost said with a smirk.
Checking that the backseat of the limousine was cut off from the driver, John opened his attaché case and unfolded a noteputer, setting it up. “Read the latest report from Francesca,” he suggested. “Then summarise it for me.”
“You want me to play spoken book?”
“Just summarise.” He kept one thumb on the scroll button, pressing it whenever Hanse cued him to do so, and opened a paper file with his other hand.
The Battle Armor project was going well, according to reports and ‘his’ suggestion on how to handle deployment in the short term had been accepted. While no one could find any record of a Savannah Master hovercraft (unsurprisingly as Hanse recalled the design as having been cobbled together in 3024 or 2025), the combination of a tiny fusion reactor, a cockpit and a hover fan was within reach of even a relatively small assembly line. It took two of them to carry a full squad of Battle Armour but they weren’t all that expensive.
While replicating the Savannah Master both as a scout vehicle and as a transport for Battle Armour had been Hanse’s idea, John felt that he could take the credit for how they were being crewed. The original plan had been to detach hover-tank regiments to re-equip them but it would have been very obvious something was going on.
Instead the Third Defiance Motor Rifle Regiment had given up their trikes and quads to run through a hasty re-training in the use of a one-man hover tank – which at one Savannah Master per soldier to pass the course provided enough crews for six regiments of the tiny war machines. Granted, all six regiments combined would struggle to provide the firepower of as many ordinary tanks or ‘Mechs but that wasn’t the point. And anomalies with one motorized infantry regiment far from the combat zone likely wouldn’t be prioritised the way that a more sweeping change might.
“Now that the Combine’s softened up their control of the HPGs we’re starting to get reports through from our sources there,” Hanse told him. “Although I don’t think Zabu’s ever going to hand the stations fully back to the Ministry of Communications – Blake won’t be happy about that.”
“From your tone I think you can bear that.”
“It’s not the worst news I’ve ever had,” the ghost agreed happily. “One more stake in ComStar’s grave.”
“What are our sources telling us?”
“Enough that together with the data we’ve received from the troops crossing the border into Federated Suns space, Francesca’s willing to commit to the position that Fifteenth Army is basically gone. The DCMS might have the equivalent of a couple of SLDF divisions that chose to stay loyal, but what that means in practise is that they’re functionally under DCMS command now. That pretty much doubles what they’d managed to build up out of defectors but at least four, possibly as many as seven DCMS divisions got mauled trying to restrain less compliant units. So, it’s pretty much a wash in troop numbers for them.”
“How about warships?”
“She’s just getting to that.”
John scrolled down for Hanse and looked out of the window. They were getting close to Mount Davion now. He’d be home in a few minutes more.
“Ah, there are at least twenty-eight SLDF warships that are functionally under DCA control, either officially or because their command staff have acquiesced to the posting of political officers and marines aboard them. Eight other warships are unconfirmed at this time. Twenty-nine SLDF warships are confirmed as destroyed or damaged to the point they’re basically write-offs.” Hanse looked up. “That last category sounds suspect – I suspect they could be patched up if the DCA really wanted to.”
“And if they had the yards.”
“Yes, that’s true. And at least fourteen Combine warships are destroyed. Francesca stresses that this is probably low-balling things, the numbers for ships lost over Luthien when Nakazono’s force got there is almost certainly higher than the four ships confirmed as destroyed in action, but they don’t have full information yet. Most of the warships there were from the Pesht District squadrons and that region’s a low priority except for Luthien and a few other worlds.”
“It’s going to be interesting to see how Jack Lucas takes that,” John noted thoughtfully. “If some of the Fifteenth managed to reach us then it’s likely others got across the border into the Terran Hegemony and Lyran Commonwealth. Zabu Kurita’s cover-up may not hold once their reports are looked at.”
“Hmm. That may not matter. It depends how much influence Lucas has.”
John considered that, watching as details of Castle Davion came into better view. “I suppose General Nakazono won’t be around to contradict anything he says. And given the Council… Robert will be annoyed that the DCMS has obtained SLDF equipment, but he’ll probably be more interested in doing the same than anything else. Kenyon will probably accept anything that puts the SLDF in a bad light and Barbara… I have no idea, actually.”
“And then there’s McEvedy. I haven’t a clue what happened to him in my history.” Hanse’s reflection in the window shrugged. It was strange that even though no one else could see him he apparently appeared normally in reflections and even video recordings – but only to John.
“He seems to be a sensible man. I don’t think he trusts the rest of the Council very far.”
“And I think that you just repeated yourself.”
“Perhaps. They’re not going to pull it back together again, are they?”
Hanse shook his head. “No, they’re not. It’s too late, John. I’m sorry.”
“Life goes on, I suppose.” The car swept up a slope and into one of the many gates around the Royal Court. Rather than going further it pulled up outside the Chancellery.
He hadn’t asked for the formal entrance but why not. John opened the door and climbed out. When he stood upright he saw Joshua coming down the steps, trailed by Edwina and Mary. “Father!”
“Hello son.”
To his surprise, Joshua grabbed him in a bearhug. “Welcome home.”
The two women were only a few steps behind Joshua and he was relieved to see that Edwina’s face was more tolerant amusement than pent up frustration. “I’m sorry it took so long, Edwina,” he offered over his son’s shoulder. “I hope you’re both well.”
“Oh, we’re better than well,” his wife told him with an odd aside look at their daughter-in-law. “Although you’ve been working too hard again.”
“It’s a bad habit, I need you to keep me straight.”
Joshua released him and stepped back, taking Mary’s hand. “Father, we have fantastic news.”
There was a very loud whoop of approval from behind John, which almost made him jump out of his skin. “Oh?” he asked, covering for the reaction to Hanse’s shout. “Good news?”
“You’re…” Joshua looked aside at his wife and paused.
With a bright smile, Mary lowered her free hand to just above her waist. “You’re going to be a grandfather, sir.”
John found his eyes going moist. Life, as he’d just said, goes on. “That’s wonderful,” he said sincerely. Work was damn well going to wait a couple of days. “I can’t tell you how happy I am for you both.”
.o0O0o.
Atreus City, Atreus
Marik Commonwealth, Free Worlds League
21 July 2779
Carl Marik was surprised to find his younger brother eating a hearty breakfast in the family apartments. Since he’d reached the exalted rank of captain, Thaddeus had been spending time with the new love of his life: FWLS Ospina. “Good morning.” He poured himself some coffee and started filling his plate with crispy bacon, scrambled eggs, fresh baby tomatoes and mushrooms.
Thaddeus, still chewing on a mouthful of sausage, waved his fork in greeting and finally swallowed. “Carl. Sleep well?”
“God, yes. Twelve hours of meeting yesterday and the same today. Are you here for…” He hesitated, checking his mental calendar, “A meeting or have you finally been sent home by your crew to use the showers.”
“There are perfectly functional showers in my quarters aboard,” Thaddeus replied indignantly. “No, father wants me to sit in on a meeting at nine o’clock.”
“Huh. The Canopian foreign policy conference?” Carl bit into a tomato, the juice dribbling a little before he licked it off his lips.
“I’ve no idea.”
“That’s the one he and I are in then.”
Thaddeus took a bite out of his french toast. “Could be. You know how he is.”
“How who is?” their father asked, entering the room. Kenyon uncovered a plate already prepared on the buffet and used a napkin to hold the warm dish as he crossed over his seat at the head of the table. Once seated he plucked the hard-boiled egg from where it was between two kippers and put it in the egg cup.
“Security, sir. Need to know.”
“Ah yes.” The Captain-General started carving up the first kipper with his knife and fork. “More important than ever with Davion intelligence so efficient. Winslow’s budget increases alongside the rest of the military’s for good reason.”
In their father’s presence the two younger Mariks finished their breakfasts in silence and left to finish preparing for the day. It didn’t surprise Carl that when they left the apartments, each in their own staff cars, the vehicles travelled in convoy through the government complex and dropped them all off at the same place, the portico of the Ministry of Foreign Affairs.
The conference room the three Mariks were guided to already had a holo-display lit up with the rimwards border worlds of the Free Worlds League visible at the top and a slim line of Capellan star systems to one side, marked in green. The focus were the few dozen worlds of the Magistracy of Canopus, relatively dispersed compared to the densely colonised space of the Free Worlds League or the Capellan Confederation. While the Magistracy’s population was far below most of the League’s provinces, the space it claimed was almost half the volume of the League.
Kenyon Marik took the head of the table and waited for a few stragglers to take their assigned seating. Carl found himself between Thaddeus and Jared Humphreys, although the Regulan bureaucrat was the last attendee to arrive, slipping into his seat with an apologetic nod towards the Captain-General.
“Ladies and gentlemen,” Kenyon began, “We’re here to discuss the approach we should take towards the Magistracy in the near future. It’s been more than a decade since the SLDF ceased their attempt to bring the Canopians back into the Star League and since then there’s been an armed ceasefire between the League and the Magistracy. We’ll begin with a review of their economic position.”
Jared rose and took over the briefing, spelling out data obtained by Regulan intelligence, supplemented by data shared by SAFE and, to a lesser extent, Star League Intelligence Command. Overall the Canopians were evidently struggling, Carl heard. The backbone of their economy had been providing medical services and entertainment to their neighbours – industries that could hardly thrive when the vast majority of potential customers were risked finding themselves in a war zone.
Why is Thaddeus here? Carl wondered. He looks bored stiff.
“At the moment the Canopian economy has probably bottomed out for the foreseeable future,” Jared concluded. “They’re heavily dependent on trade with the Taurians for several key technologies, which will only make the Concordat stronger but we don’t have a border with them. The crash industrialisation on Canopus itself has stabilised most of the key manufacturing sectors but it’s done so at twenty-fifth or even twenty-fourth century levels.”
Kenyon nodded. “It seems that we hardly need to worry about cheap Periphery goods crossing the border to undercut our own markets. And on the more military front?”
The head of SAFE’s Canopian desk was another Humphreys, Carl recalled, one of Jared’s distant cousins. The Andurien branch of the family was little represented on Atreus outside of their parliamentary delegation – Carl’s grandfather had offended old Radford Humphreys repeatedly, even by his standards. Carl had met Ivory Humphreys a couple of times when they were younger – it was memorable since she and her twin sister Ebony had been dressed in white and black respectively by their mother for the formal balls.
Ivory was wearing white again, although this time it was because that was the colour of FWLM dress uniforms. “Admiral Brandt was in command of the SLDF Army Group operating in the Magistracy from 2765 to 2767. As befitting a naval officer, she was quite thorough in hunting down the Canopians’ warships and there’s no dissenting data to indicate they had more than the twenty-two warships she destroyed there, unlike the Taurians who definitely managed to hide at least one frigate from General Kerensky.”
Carl saw his father smile slightly at that.
“Ground forces are harder to calculate due to large numbers of irregular units and the possibility of equipment being cached by units that disbanded rather than surrender to the SLDF. Our best estimate is that Janina Centrella has consolidated her regular forces into seven ‘Mech regiments and fewer than twenty regiments of infantry and armour above the militia level. Given limited military manufacture available to her, there’s the possibility of an eighth BattleMech regiment being constituted in the next ten years but it’s questionable how effectively her forces can be projected with the available naval transportation.”
“In summary then, the Canopians don’t constitute a significant threat then?”
“Their offensive capability is effectively limited to raiding and a serious naval presence would constrain that sharply, sir.”
Kenyon nodded. “However, if they were to obtain a force of warships that would change the equation significantly.”
“Yes sir. I imagine you’re referring to the various hulls abandoned in Canopian space as unsalvageable?”
“Quite right.”
“If they’re unsalvageable by the SLDF, how would the Canopians do anything with them?” Thaddeus directed the question to his father and Ivory equally. “They’ve got nothing like the industrial capability.”
“What’s uneconomic for us would be ruinous for them,” agreed Kenyon. “However, since it’s their only option to restore some sort of warship capability, the possibility that they could bring some of those ships back to at least limited operations at the shipyards over Canopus IV can’t be discounted.”
“Those shipyards should be basically intact,” Carl noted. “The SLDF didn’t reach Canopus itself and the yards had some maintenance functions for Eighteenth Fleet.”
“That’s precisely my concern,” his father agreed. “Without those yards the Canopians can be discounted as a problem – and they’d be a distraction we do not need.” He looked down the table at Thaddeus. “And that’s where you come in, son.”
“I do?” Thaddeus tilted his head. “Don’t we have a ceasefire with Canopus?”
“It’s entirely open to question how binding that jumped-up peasant Kerensky’s negotiations with a neo-barbarian are. I certainly don’t consider them to have more weight than the security of the Free Worlds League. I’m forming a special task force of four destroyers under your command to escort a number of transports to Canopus and take over the yards. Your orders are to confiscate such supplies they have assembled as well as any portable tooling, then disable anything that isn’t portable. The confiscated material will help us restore the SelaSys yard to full functionality.”
“Four ships are a squadron command, sir. I’m a very junior captain.”
“Are you saying you can’t handle the responsibility, Thaddeus?” their father demanded.
“I’m a Marik, father. There would simply be political considerations.”
“As a Marik you’ll also be directly representing me there,” Kenyon replied. “This is to be a very clear statement to the Territorial States: they may have a stay of execution while the Federated Suns is brought back in line but it’s only a matter of time until the Star League restores our control over their worlds.”
.o0O0o.
SLDF Headquarters, New Earth
Alliance Core, Terran Hegemony
30 July 2779
Daniel Mattlov had heard the predictions that the SLDF would have its forward bases on Markesan by the end of the year. With the wisdom of a veteran he’d expected that something would go wrong and he’d been right – which was unfortunate but not alarming.
Two convoys moving supplies forwards from the bases at New Rhodes had been hit by Federated Suns carrier groups – or possibly just one group. The timing would be just about possible.
General Apfelbucher had been relieved, since the only way that could have been done was a breach of security. McEvedy had been the only leader to vote against her dismissal but it hadn’t carried much weight. After all, the leak would have almost had to have been within the Terran Hegemony somewhere. Probably New Rhodes – John Davion had spent months there at a time, the Federated Suns’ Ministry of Intelligence could have dozens of spy rings there.
The results had been many and varied – fourteen destroyers, seven frigates, two cruisers and fifty-seven jumpships had been destroyed, along with over a hundred dropships. The Davion intelligence had even been sufficient that they could pick out the tankers and munitions transports among the flotillas and spare those carrying less critical supplies. Thousands of spacers were alive for that mercy, their lifeboats picked up by the remaining dropships, and the SLDF’s Seventh and Eighth Armies – their only real remaining striking power – would not run out of field rations, spare uniforms or toilet paper.
But without fuel and ammunition, they had no choice but to stand on the defensive.
With operations stalled, General Lucas had made a low-profile return to New Earth to try to organise replacement supplies and personnel. Whatever he got was going to be at the expense of the only SLDF army left in the Terran Hegemony, the Eleventh.
It therefore didn’t surprise Mattlov that he didn’t get a warm welcome.
“I went nine rounds with General Hayes, beg your pardon, I mean Minister Hayes, yesterday. What do you want from me, Mr Mattlov?”
Mattlov forced his temper down. “I’ve done that dance myself more than once. You have my sympathies.”
Lucas evidently bit back his first response. “My apologies for treating you like a politician.”
“Unfortunately, I am one now. It leaves a bitter taste.”
“Take a seat.” Lucas gestured to the small coffee nook and they occupied couches facing each other. Coffee and tea were on offer but the general opened a cabinet built into the table and produced a bottle that hailed from a Scottish distillery. “Are you a drinking man?”
“When I’m not scheduled to fly, which I’m not.”
Lucas poured measures into two glasses and handed one over before raising the other. “To the Star League.”
“And peace for all mankind.”
“Only one lord can give us that, and he isn’t on the Star League Council.”
It took Mattlov a second to realise that it wasn’t a reference to any mortal lord. Lucas’ father was a bishop, something must have rubbed off. “Well, we should still do what we can. Which brings me to what I hope is good news.”
“Oh?” Lucas sipped on his glass.
“We’ve managed to restore partial capacity to the Krester Construction shipyards at Keid.”
The general raised an eyebrow. “I’m impressed. I thought it would take years longer.”
“We stripped equipment from a dozen other yards. Their reconstruction will take considerably longer – although probably not as long as the lawsuits from the owners of those yards – but it means we have two slips that are clearing to accept ships and three that are less than a month behind.”
“That’s excellent news for someone.”
“For you, if you’re willing to agree to a couple of conditions.”
Lucas set down his glass and rubbed his chin. Mattlov leant back and sipped what was left of his drink as the other man thought.
“You know we need them,” the general said at last. “Besides the squadrons wiped out trying to protect our convoys, more than fifty warships are unaccounted for from the fleet we had in the Draconis Combine. If we can get some of the cripples from the last war back in service then I can at least cover our supply lines.”
“I know you need them. But so does Davion. Keid just became a major target and the Hegemony fleet can’t cover it and handle our other obligations.”
“So, at the same time you give me a chance to recoup my losses, you also want me to add another major commitment.”
Mattlov nodded. “A squadron deployment. We’re rushing aerospace fighter squadrons into position but we don’t have the orbital base structure over Keid for them. The ships don’t have to be in perfect working order, as long as they’re not immobile targets and we can operate fighters from them.”
“Do you have enough fighters?”
“That’s not a problem. Pilots we’re shorter on but we can manage.”
Lucas frowned. “New trainees?”
“Partly. We’re easing up on qualifications for… political orthodoxy.”
“Political… you’re letting people who fought for Amaris into your ranks?” Lucas half rose. “Those men and women are…”
“Some of them were shooting at me,” Mattlov reminded him. “It’ll be two more years before we finish training the first class of people who didn’t have some experience already. We’re not in any position to be fussy.”
“What is the universe coming to?” The commanding general slumped back into his chair and refilled his glass. He didn’t offer Mattlov a refill. “Very well. You said conditions, meaning more than one?”
“Just access to their parts stores. Krester built our Kimagure-class cruisers and their engines take a lot of work to keep in operation.”
“That was a selling point when the late Lord Cameron asked for them. What else?”
“That’s it, sir. After all, we’re on the same side.”
Lucas sighed. “That used to mean so much more. Very well, you have my agreement.”
-
Zenith Jump Point, Kathil
Capellan March, Federated Suns
12 August 2779
Built at first to maintain jumpships ferrying supplies from the Terran Hegemony to the Taurian Concordat during the Reunification War of two centuries before, the James McKenna shipyards were built at a jump point. It was necessary, since the then-new ‘civilian’ core ships had little more than station-keeping drives and would otherwise have had to be towed long distances to reach the shipyard.
That same convenience made the yards potentially vulnerable though and the Capellan warships jumped into the star system less than a hundred thousand kilometres from the sprawling complex of docking bays, repair slips, fabrication stations and habitats.
Baltazar Liao clutched his shockframe and looked around the combat information centre of the Du Shi Wang-class battleship Sundermann Liao as the crew raced to bring the ship’s systems back up after the jump. The Federated Suns defences around the shipyards would also be rushing to readiness and if they were ready before the Capellans then the battle would begin with Baltazar’s squadron at a disadvantage.
The main tactical display – a screen rather than the holo-displays used by the SLDF and FSN – lit up. “Location confirmed,” the sensor officer reported. “We’re on target. Five Federated Suns warships detected: a carrier and two destroyers out-system, range two hundred forty thousand kilometres, two destroyers on the edge of the shipyard. Possible ID of the carrier group as FSS Novaya Zemlya, FSS Roger Davion and FSS Richard Davion. Other destroyers are…” He paused. “Lola-class, block three, war book confirms them as SLS Rex and SLS Ranger, last assignment supporting General Baptiste.”
“Traitors then,” the Sundermann’s executive officer concluded. Captain Korolev preferred to run his ship from the navigation bridge which left Baltazar sharing the CIC with Oskar Sian and a secondary crew.
“Hostile, at any rate, which is all that matters right now,” Baltazar informed him. “What do they have docked?”
“Too early to say, sir,” the sensor officer reported apologetically.
“Update me as soon as you know.”
The drives kicked in and Baltazar felt the acceleration in his spine. The strike force at his disposal was only nine warships and Federated Suns carriers had shattered such forces before but that usually required repeated strikes and the Novaya Zemlya wouldn’t have time to carry out more than one before he was in range of the shipyards.
Besides the Sundermann Liao and her sister-ship the Mica Liao, he had two additional capital ships. The heavy cruiser Solstice had been to Kathil before during the abortive invasion of 2777 and the Black Lion-class battlecruiser Typhon completed the quartet. I’m commanding a fleet of antiques, Baltazar thought. The SLDF’s Black Lion-class was named for the twenty-fourth century battlecruisers that were now represented in his squadron by the Typhon and three of his destroyers, the Khalzan, Al Di and Calseraigne were newly built copies of the old Essex-class which was of the same era. For that matter, the Sundermann and mica Mica were approaching their fourth century of service.
“Fighters launching from the Novaya Zemlya,” came the report.
“Launch our own,” Baltazar ordered.
On the display new data popped up around the two ships that were his hole card. The loss of the shipyards at Capella had prevented the construction of new warships to counter the Federated Suns Navy but the civilian shipyards over Liao had managed to refit two Carrack-class transports for his purposes. Now squadron after squadron of aerospace fighters launched from the re-christened CCS Wasp and CCS Hornet, joining those from the Leopard carrier dropships of the squadron.
The swarming defenders didn’t deter the Federated Suns aerospace fighters. There were one hundred and eighty of them but each of the Carracks could carry almost that many fighters, so the odds favoured Baltazar’s forces. Aware of FSN doctrine, Capellan fighters focused in on the fast Centurions that would be carrying nuclear missiles, leaving the slower Hammerheads for later. It cost more than a dozen of the pilots their lives as brutal autocannon fire ripped their lightweight Thrushs and Cheetahs apart, but very few of the Centurions broke through and moments later Capellan Transit fighters were firing their own autocannon into the Davion heavies.
A handful of Eagles kept in reserve moved to intercept the Centurions that leaked. Light blazed as harried Federated Suns pilots released their payloads far from their targets in order to have their full manoeuvrability available in order to survive. Only a single pair managed to get through and the Khalzan momentarily vanished as nuclear fire tore at its armour. The destroyer was lucky though and emerged battered but operational from the firestorm.
The sensor officer straightened. “New data. New Syrtis-class ship leaving one of the yard slips. A second slip is confirmed as holding a Defender-class ship but…” He paused. “Confirmed, the Defender is opened up and not operational.”
Baltazar nodded. The Defender-class were battlecruisers comparable to the Sundermann in age. Alone it would have been hard-pressed even if it could fight. A second carrier, though…
“Why isn’t she launching fighters?” Sian asked what he’d been thinking. The officer cupped his chin. “With their wings added they might have broken through.” The fighter battle was ongoing, drifting away from the Capellan warships as the balance slowly tipped against the Federated Suns.
“Well she was docked. Maybe she didn’t have onboard wings,” Baltazar speculated. “She’s left it too late though, we’re going to enter weapons range of her soon.”
“A rare opportunity to destroy one of those butcher birds,” responded Sian grimly. His family, once so powerful that the Capellan capital world itself bore their name, had long since been eclipsed in political terms by House Liao but they had an equally long naval tradition and many of his kin had fallen in the fighting around Tikonov. “The Vladislav is moving to try to take the first shot at that.”
“Reckless,” Baltazar noted. A New Syrtis-class carrier might rely primarily on its aerospace fighters but they weren’t entirely toothless as warships. The two ex-SLDF destroyers opened fire as he spoke and the two Capellan battleships replied with their forward particle beams, joined a moment later by the Solstice’s mass driver which narrowly missed the Rex. The massive slug instead struck a factory satellite and smashed through it, shattering the station.
“It’s possible the ship hasn’t been armed yet.”
Focused on the incoming capital ships the destroyers could spare little attention for the small corvette and Vladislav opened fire on the carrier with its autocannon. There was unsurprisingly little effect – the relatively puny guns were up against what Baltazar knew to be well-armoured hull. The larger ship rolled broadside on to the Capellan warship and the young Liao tensed, waiting to see if the carrier would return fire. Unless the Vladislav’s captain was luckier than his crew deserved then their ship was going to be mangled.
He wasn’t and the Vladislav was torn apart.
“That’s strange,” the sensor officer observed.
“Strange? If Longknife survived that I’ll have him court-martialled.” It might only be a corvette but it was still a Capellan warship and would be hard to replaced.
On the other hand, Solstice’s second shot had hit one of the Lolas which was rolling, one flank savaged by the pummelling it had taken. Its sister-ship was little better off, outnumbered three to one by the Capellan destroyers.
“No sir, the weapons fire. It wasn’t normal for a New Syrtis-class.” The man hunched over his console and Baltazar saw displays shift as sensor data was refined and compared to existing records. “I… K-F signatures, behind us!”
“How many?”
“Two, no three. Standard FSN protocol, two escorts followed by a capital ship.”
Baltazar turned to the screen that showed him the bridge. “Captain Korolev?”
“Going to maximum military power. Our fighters can’t respond in time. Typhon will take point against the new arrivals,” the captain reported calmly. The thus far mild vibrations of the engine rose in pitch as the aged battleship began to spin to bring its heaviest armour and armament to face the new arrivals. If this was the Feddies’ battleship then it would be needed.
“What about the carrier?” The ranges were dropping rapidly. “We’ve just seen that it has its guns.”
“They can’t avoid close action but neither can we.” Korolev looked aside for a moment and then nodded. “Solstice will switch targets, we’ll try to take it out quic-”
“Sir!” the sensor officer screamed. “That’s not a carrier, it’s -”
The world appeared to end. Baltazar was slammed against the shock frame and the lights went out.
“What the hell?” He looked around and sparks flew from one of the consoles, giving him a brief moment of illumination. One wall of the CIC had… bulged inwards, hurling crewmen across the compartment. The engines were silent.
Wrestling himself free of the shockframe, Baltazar checked for Oskar Sian and found the man’s shockframe had buckled around him. Gods, was everything on the Sundermann built by the lowest bidder? Blood trickled from the executive officer’s mouth and he looked pleadingly at the young Liao for help…
Swallowing, Baltazar realised what the only help he could offer was. He clawed his sidearm from its holster and put the crushed officer out of his agony.
“Sir?”
It was the sensor officer, stumbling to his feet. “What happened?” Baltazar demanded.
“The ship, the New Syrtis…” the man shook his head. “It’s not a New Syrtis. Same general hull, but too many guns.”
Baltazar took his arm and pulled him after him as he headed for the hatch. They couldn’t stay here, they had to get to somewhere with power. “How many?”
“Ten or twelve, I saw double mounts.” He coughed as the hatch opened, revealing emergency lights in the passageway and they both smelt smoke. “I saw the name on the hull. Black Bear. That’s the name of one of their battlecruisers.”
“We turned our back on a battlecruiser?”
The officer nodded, pale-faced.
“No wonder we got battered. Still, one ship.” Baltazar opened a panel and found a handset for the ship’s emergency system. “Hello? Hello? This is Colonel Liao. I’m outside CIC.”
There was a long pause and then a woman’s voice. “Colonel, this is Commander Darrell.”
Darrell? Oh yes, the deputy engineering officer. “Commander, CIC’s out of action. Put me through to Korolev.”
“Sir, Captain Korolev is dead, I have conn.” She made a noise that was half-laugh and half choke. “Such as it is. Our engines are out and the flight deck is on fire.”
Baltazar winced. The flight decks were between CIC and the forward sections of the hull. “Can you contain it?” Great Buddha, the deputy engineer was the seventh officer in command succession.
“Negative,” she told him gravely. “The emergency doors have buckled and we can’t close them. I recommend you take a lifeboat.”
“Abandon ship, you mean?”
“Yes sir. Even if we put the fire out, the Sundermann’s got no power for the guns. We’re out of the battle.”
Baltazar glanced towards the nearest lifeboats. The way looked clear. “Do we know what ships jumped in?”
“Another carrier group, sir. We have over a hundred fighters inbound from behind us.” Her voice faltered, “Our fighters are headed back but they’re low on ammunition and fuel.”
“Wasp and Hornet?”
Darrell’s voice steadied but at the note of despair. “Best estimate is that the Feddies will reach them first.”
He felt his knuckles hit the bulkhead before he realised he’d smacked his fist against it. They’d been so close. “Relay to the squadron to do all possible damage to the shipyards,” Baltazar ordered hollowly. “Then get your people off, Commander.”
He dropped the handset and followed the sensor officer towards the lifeboats, feeling the weight of thousands of lives dragging his shoulders downwards.
-
Anyone else checking to see if another "Davion & Davion (Deceased)" update has dropped, shortly after waking up in the morning? Drak great stuff.
Yep.
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I guess he won't make that mistake again...
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Ah. I love the smell of a drakensis update in the morning. It smells like entertainment! :D :)) :thumbsup:
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And a Liao heir is taken off the chessboard. Who's next?
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And a Liao heir is taken off the chessboard. Who's next?
A decapitation strike against Steiner by the newly enlarged Rim Worlds forces?
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gee I keep saying Liao forces weren't ready for this game...
I do wonder how well this FWL strike on the MoC will do
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gee I keep saying Liao forces weren't ready for this game...
I do wonder how well this FWL strike on the MoC will do
I'm going to laugh if the FWL somehow gets its raid force crushed by the MoC. >:D
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I'm going to laugh if the FWL somehow gets its raid force crushed by the MoC. >:D
My guess would be Kerensky will have sent some forces there
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My guess would be Kerensky will have sent some forces there
No he wouldn't have helped out former enemy, nor would his people if they are there dare fire on the FWL ::)
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Ah. I love the smell of a drakensis update in the morning. It smells like entertainment! :D :)) :thumbsup:
very correct, the best thing in the morning is an update on this topic
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very correct, the best thing in the morning is an update on this topic
So true :drool:
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very correct, the best thing in the morning is an update on this topic
It is a mere two hours or so away.
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It's a pretty consistent 8:30 pm local for for me, and as it's past 7:30 now, that means only an hour to go and about one and a half when you posted. Due to the need to get to bed before work I miss the update until the following day if it a work night, but when I read it then depends upon how much sleep my body decides it needs, if it thinks 0400 is a good time to wake up I've got over an hour before I need to leave, so I read it then. If on the other hand I get 8 hours of sleep that means I don't see it until 1430 and if the following day is non-work, that means I've got a chance to read two updates on the same day.
-
Imperial City, Luthien
Pesht District, Draconis Combine
20 October 2779
The Black Room no longer held novelty for Zabu. It was a rare day he didn’t find himself there and some nights he would wake suddenly besides a pillow woman and realise he’d been haunting the command centre in his dreams, wrestling with the burdens.
“Without more supplies we cannot take the war back to the Davions,” Fujiwara insisted. “Rasalhague and Pesht districts have reserves that we must be given access to.” The Warlord of Benjamin was hollow-eyed, the disease that was eating away at his liver draining him more and more.
“There are no such reserves,” Manati insisted. “All that remained after previous shipments was used to combat the rebel SLDF.”
Zabu closed his eyes in meditation. This feuding was useful to him personally, for it kept the pair from uniting against him, but it was beginning to weaken the DCMS as their districts took cues from their leaders. How to respond, what would father have done? No, what would grandfather have done? Ah, yes. That could work.
“I hear the chirping of a bird,” he said, just loud enough to be audible. All eyes turned to him. “Warlord Fujiwara, since you believe we have untapped reserves of supplies in Pesht, you are to replace Warlord Manati in command of his district. Warlord Manati has proven his fitness to command in defeating General Nakazono and shall replace Warlord Fujiwara in command of Benjamin District.”
Both men stared at him, then at each other. They scowled and subsided into their seats.
“Lord Kurita.” Warlord Sorenson of Rasalhague was a distant cousin to House Kurita but was wise enough not to presume upon the connection. “Such a rearrangement could further delay a renewed offensive.”
“The Dragon has clawed twice at the Suns and found their strikes blunted. It behoves the high command to give great consideration to how a third attack may succeed.” In other words, ‘like hell am I attacking again as things stand’.
“And as our stockpiles have been depleted we’ll need time to rebuild them,” agreed Manati. “More factories must be established to provide the material of war for the DCMS.”
“Efforts are under way,” General Takara assured them. She was one of the very few women to reach a senior rank in the DCMS, a fussy woman with spectacles she looked over more than through. But she was just as precise with a katana as with her words and had killed fourteen men in kenjutsu duels through her career. “Such measures will take time, however.”
“And in the short term, what does the Department of Procurement suggest?” sneered Fujiwara.
Zabu held up his hand to silence the warlord. Once he had their attention he turned the back of his hand towards them and slowly closed his fingers until he was showing them a clenched fist. “It seems to me that there are indeed stockpiles of war material that have yet to be tapped,” he observed. “It is merely that they are not within Pesht or Rasalhague District. You should investigate such sources, Warlord Sorenson.”
Sorenson’s eyes flicked from Zabu’s hand to the Coordinator’s eyes. He bowed deeply. “Indeed, our lord sees deeply,” he murmured. “May I enquire, the harmony of the Star League is…”
“There has been little harmony within the Star League of late. Let us not be seen to disturb it further.”
“Of course, lord.”
Zabu turned to the ISF liaison officer. “I understand there to be fresh reports with regard to the Capellans’ efforts against the Federated Suns?”
“Yes lord.” The man touched a control. “Lord Baltazar Liao, the Capellan heir, led a naval squadron against the shipyards at Kathil. Our sources confirm that the yards were significantly damaged but not destroyed and only one warship, CCS Solstice returned – so badly damaged that without access to a major shipyard it will be years before it is battle-ready.”
“Their carriers failed then?” asked Tai-sho Murata of the Draconis Combine Admiralty.
“They were destroyed but their fighters inflicted significant losses on the Federated Suns. Our understanding is that the experiment has been considered a success and further Carrack-class ships are to be converted.”
Zabu nodded. “It is to be expected that in copying our own measures that they would find some form of victory. Continue to train more pilots, Murata. It is clear that this form of naval warfare has its own costs and I shall require both pilots and MechWarriors in the future.”
The MechWarriors present brindled and he feigned amusement. “Consider a daisho, the twin swords both long and short. And do the samurai not master both sword and bow? Does the one weapon diminish the other?”
Manati nodded. “Of course, Lord Kurita. Your wisdom is ever before us as a guide.”
“We have also received confirmation,” the ISF officer added, “that the Capellan heir survived the destruction of his flagship. Unfortunately, the Solstice was unable to recover him and he is in Davion hands.”
“Damn!” Sorenson exclaimed. “If he is used as a hostage…”
“Davion would not dare,” disagreed Fujiwara. “To act like Amaris would stain his reputation and the Prince preens it too much to risk it.”
Zabu considered the two men and then looked back to the spy. “And your superior’s analysis?”
“Lord, we do not believe Lord Davion would overtly threaten Lord Liao. It seems more likely that he will permit the Chancellor’s fears to moderate her actions and perhaps use this to open some form of negotiations.”
“A subtle strategy,” the Coordinator agreed. “So, we cannot expect the Capellans to strike boldly or with great effect.” He smiled slightly. “No change then, I suppose?”
Manati laughed out loud. “Indeed, lord.”
Even Fujiwara managed a slight smile, but it faded swiftly. “Davion’s flanks will be… subdued then. He will be able to focus his full attention on Lucas and the SLDF.”
“Do you not believe in them?” asked Takara curiously.
The newly appointed Warlord of Pesht shook his shaven head sharply. “They are lesser men, with lesser leadership. They toppled Amaris, but he was not of Davion’s calibre.”
“You thought little of him a moment ago.”
“He is proud, too proud to stoop to threats against the helpless,” Fujiwara gave a baleful look at a map upon the wall. “And yet, his victories make it clear that his pride is not without foundation.”
“It is said that man is measured by the greatness of his enemies,” Zabu noted. “It seems that House Kurita is blessed with a powerful enemy.”
.o0O0o.
Avalon City, New Avalon
Crucis March, Federated Suns
9 November 2779
John nodded to Owen as he entered the outer office. “Good morning. Is there anything unexpected today?”
His secretary pushed back his chair and rose to his feet. “Nothing new but Minister Reznick thinks you’ll want to hear her news at the first opportunity so she’ll be here in a couple of minutes and I pushed the meeting with Minister Parks back to before lunch.”
“Hmm. I wonder what she’s turned up,” John mused and then smiled wryly. “I guess I don’t have to be patient for very long.”
He hadn’t seen Hanse so far this morning. The ghost was familiar with his schedule and hadn’t seemed particularly interested in sitting through a finance meeting first thing, so he probably wouldn’t turn up for a few hours. His loss.
Freshly made coffee was steaming on the First Prince’s desk as Francesca Reznick was ushered into the room right on the dot of 09:00. The Minister of Intelligence was neatly dressed and her hair was slightly damp but the lines around her eyes suggested she’d been up all night.
“Hello Francesca. Coffee?”
“Thank you, sire. That smells wonderful.”
John already knew how she took her coffee so he used the tongs to drop a single sugar cube into the black coffee and carried it over to the coffee table for her, setting his own mug down opposite her. “I assume there’s some new development?”
“Yes sir. News from the Magistracy via one of our Taurian connections.”
He settled down into the armchair. “Bad news?”
“For those involved, at least,” Reznick agreed and sipped the coffee. “The Free Worlds League has broken the ceasefire with the Periphery, they’ve attacked Canopus.”
“My god! An invasion?”
She shook her head. “No, although the Captain-General may have been testing the waters. A small squadron of warships – four brand new League-class destroyers – struck at their orbitals. They had several transports with them so the analysts think the idea was to strip supplies and tooling from the shipyard there to go towards restoring the SelaSys yards after MI6’s raid earlier this year.”
John frowned and lifted his own mug. “Did they act openly or was this a deniable operation?” he asked before drinking.
“Fully overt, sir. Normally that sort of squadron would merit a commodore but the commanding officer was Captain Thaddeus Marik, Kenyon Marik’s younger son. He seems to have something of a direct approach to obstacles and he doesn’t like being thwarted.”
“That sounds ominous.”
Reznick made a face and gulped down a mouthful of coffee before expanding. “The Canopians don’t have any warships left but they have armed dropships and aerospace fighters and the Magestrix made it clear that they weren’t going to just hand over what Marik wanted. When he didn’t bear off, they went for him with everything they could scrape together.”
The First Prince winced at the thought. League-class destroyers were tough customers – smaller and slower than a Davion-class but their railguns gave them a lot of firepower and they’d outrange most weapons a dropship could carry.
“Everything, in this case, included six Buccaneer freighters refitted with a pair of capital missile tubes each,” the Minister continued. “None of the freighters survived, of course, but they took out two of the destroyers and severely damaged Marik’s flagship – fortunately for him the Ospina only took a single glancing hit. Fifty kiloton warheads are no respecters of rank.”
“Indeed not.”
Reznick nodded sharply. “Once it was clear they couldn’t stop the Ospina and the one undamaged ship, FWLS Otavalo, the Canopians demolished the yard. If they couldn’t have it, they wouldn’t let the Mariks profit by it.”
“I can’t say I’m surprised. You said Thaddeus Marik didn’t like to be thwarted?”
“No sire.” She drew herself up. “His words – from an unencrypted broadcast – were that if the Canopians wanted to see their industries burn then he was happy to oblige. The Ospina and the Otavalo spent forty minutes bombarding the industrial centres around Crimson, the Canopian capital, before breaking orbit.”
John closed his eyes in prayer. After Robinson he’d hoped the worst was over. How naïve of him. “How bad was it?”
“The good news is that the factories weren’t buried under residential areas the way modern cities are laid out – most of the factories had been thrown up quickly to meet the need for goods that can’t be imported now. But there were firestorms and from the reports it seems like a third of the city is gone. Casualties will be in the tens of thousands.” She paused. “And Janina Centrella was in Crimson. We don’t have confirmation yet but our sources said no one had heard from her since the bombardment. Her daughter Rwannah is overseeing a provisional administration from the old capital of Delphi but there’s a good chance that the Magestrix is dead.”
“Dammit. No official statement I assume?”
“No. Thus far the Magestrix is simply ‘unavailable to comment’ but even a recorded statement would settle a lot rumours. Our best guess is that Rwannah wants to defer the usual squabbling with the Electors until she has her feet under her.”
“That might make sense. Acting ‘on her mother’s behalf’ might let her get more done right now than if she confirms the office is vacant and has to settle for just being one candidate.” John finished his coffee. “What do the Taurians have to say?”
“Protector Calderon has formally announced that the ceasefire with the Star League has been broken and that their remaining warships stand ready to defend them. They seem more worried about the Capellans than us though.”
“I think Barbara Liao has other concerns right now. On the other hand, that’s one wasp’s nest I don’t want to throw the AFFS into.”
“Back into, sir. The AFFS was there in ’65 and ’66,” Reznick reminded him. “The Suns isn’t really much more popular than the Capellans are, they just grasp that we’ve no real option but to leave them alone while we’ve got the SLDF occupying Cartago PDZ and half of the Marlette region.”
“Mmm.” John rubbed his face. “I suppose we’ll have to see about regularising our relationship. The trade’s been gradually on the upswing and it’s one of the brighter spots of the economy right now.”
“A little outside my field,” Reznick noted. “It’s interesting they’re claiming they have warships though. We knew they had one left, the Parin, but the phrasing suggests there’s at least one more.”
“That’s true. And finding out is your field, Minister,” he told her with a slight smile that faded as he considered the Taurian border. A single carrier group was at the Capellan end of the border but otherwise the nearest ships came to the region were the output of the Tortuga yards passing through on their way to the Capellan or Crucis Marches. Not much more than one ship a year wasn’t much of a protection. If relationships soured he’d need to move at least some patrols out to the region as well. “At least we have three fresh ‘Mech regiments in the area,” John said out loud. Some of the Federated Suns Lancers were lukewarm about facing the SLDF but they’d have no hesitation about defending his worlds against Taurian raids if it came to that.
.o0O0o.
The Triad, Tharkad
Protectorate of Donegal, Lyran Commonwealth
14 November 2779
The medical wing of the Triad had all the equipment of a major hospital and the personnel to match, even if they were normally under-utilised. Justification for that lavish provision lay in a bed, surrounded by life support machinery.
“What happened?” Jennifer Steiner asked, not taking her eyes off the rail-thin form of her elder brother. More than two decades separated them and Robert had been more of a favourite uncle than a sibling to the twins born unexpectedly late in his parent’s marriage.
Her twin shrugged helplessly. “Some sort of a stroke, if I understand the doctors. He’s been under a lot of strain.” Paul looked more and more like their father as he grew older but he wore fewer decorations on his uniform.
“More bad news from Tamar?” Bandit activity had risen sharply over the last three months, specifically targeting LCAF depots. Credibly it could be SLDF units turning renegade after their attempted coup inside the Combine had failed, either going pirate or crossing Lyran space to seek refuge with General Kerensky inside the Rim Worlds Protectorate.
Three warships and a dozen dropships configured as tankers had hit Tamar itself, destroying the cruiser Gallery and causing damage to the Bolson-Tamar shipyards. That had been more or less incidental to their capture of the orbital warehouses that supplied the yards. Three-quarters of a million tons of naval ordnance had been emptied into their holds and they’d even topped off their hydrogen tanks.
Jennifer knew that Robert took the fuelling as support for the SLDF theory but she was also aware that the Lyran Intelligence Corps had picked up reports of increased activity in Rasalhague district and cautiously suggested that this might be the Draconis Combine going back to the sort of deniable strikes that they’d carried out in the 2750s. There was some question whether they would have the ability after their recent casualties though.
Paul hesitated and then shook his head. “What have you heard about Finmark?”
“One of the Rim’s provincial capitals?” She shook her head. “Nothing lately. Should I have?”
“Given the security, probably not. On the other hand, you are the heir…”
Jennifer slammed the flat of her hand against the glass separating them from their brother’s hospital room. “Until he wakes up I’m effectively his regent. What should I know?”
Her twin took a deep breath. “Robert was convinced that Kerensky was behind the attacks so he ordered a retaliatory attack on Finmark.”
“Jesus!” she exclaimed. The SLDF – active and former – revered Kerensky. So did most of the proles in every Inner Sphere state. The fact he’d personally killed Amaris’ commanding general in single combat had cemented his role as a living legend. The last thing anyone in power needed was for him to return from the semi-exile that his post in the Rim Worlds amounted to.
“Half the Fourteenth Division was assigned to occupy Finmark long enough for the stores there to be emptied.” Her brother made a face. “They have been conflicting reports on their readiness but we’ve been focused more on getting the troops along the League and Hegemony borders into shape. I didn’t expect that part of the border to turn into a hotspot.”
“I take it then that the attack did not go well?”
“Hauptmann-General Brewer escaped with around two infantry battalions worth of actual troops – mostly because they’d never disembarked from their dropships.”
Jennifer blinked. “We lost more than seven regiments?” Lyran regiments were to all practical purposes what the SLDF would call a brigade battlegroup, combining infantry, armoured and BattleMech troops along with supporting arms.
“That was the initial report.” Paul glanced aside and with long practise his twin sister identified the reason as guilt. “It was closer to four regiments. Brewer had got to the inspector general’s office in that area.”
“It’s a long time since my time with the LCAF. What are you saying?”
“On paper the two brigades were at full strength and drawing supplies and pay accordingly. In practise, Brewer had been padding his reports and claiming numbers based on local militias and noble retinues that actually never participated in operations. I’ve asked LIC to help unravel it but I think one of the regiments he claimed didn’t even exist – I’ve not found one outside source of seeing the Seventh Arcturan Guards since they were reportedly formed in ‘72.”
Words failed Jennifer for a moment. Her fists were clenched so tightly she could feel her fingernails digging into her hands. “You sent paper soldiers to fight Kerensky’s hand-picked loyalists?”
Paul swallowed nervously. “So it would seem.”
She leant forwards and rested her forehead on the cold glass. “I take it Brewer was banking the pay and disposing of the supplies for his own benefit?”
“I assume so. We’ll need to build a case.”
Various obscenities begged to be voiced but that wouldn’t help.
“Alright. We can work with this,” Jennifer said at last. “Firstly, Brewer was not ordered to attack Finmark.”
“But…”
“Bury the trail, Paul. This was an unauthorised attack by an officer we’re going to find out was corrupt up to his eyebrows. I’ll issue a formal apology to Kerensky and throw Brewer and his associates – no one can pull this sort of thing alone – to the wolves. The one good thing about the Protector’s popularity is that no one in the Estates-General will kick off about slamming Brewer for attacking him.”
“The Brewers have a lot of stock in Defiance Industries. They could make life difficult for you.”
“We have a garrison practically inside their factories – we do have a garrison on Hesperus II, don’t we? That one’s not just on paper is it?”
“I checked Hesperus II personally,” her brother confirmed. “It’s too important a world not to make sure of.”
“Then if the Brewers kick off then we’ll detain them, freeze their accounts and turn the accountants loose on them. I’d rather not make scapegoats of the entire House but if that’s what I need to do to get the Commonwealth out of this hole then it’s a small price to pay.”
Paul nodded. “I’ll take care of it.”
“No, I’ll take care of it. You go through our forces with a toothcomb and find out what we really have in troop strength. Clean house for me Paul. Falsifying data like this is treason and however weak we might be I think we have the rope for a gallows.”
“That’ll hurt morale,” he warned.
“Only among the deadwood of our officer corps,” Jennifer retorted. “If anyone protests then they’re welcome to resign. This sort of rot cannot be allowed.”
He paused and nodded. “I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be sorry, Paul. Fix this. Fix this before someone kicks this whole rotten mess out from under us.”
.o0O0o.
Avalon City, New Avalon
Crucis March, Federated Suns
20 December 2779
“I think Joshua was right about David Avellar,” John noted as he reviewed the latest reports from the Outworlds Alliance.
Hanse looked away from the screen where one of his favoured operas was being replayed – this time a performance by New Avalon Opera House, John had sponsored a series of performances. One of his unofficial responsibilities as First Prince was to be a patron of the arts and requesting a schedule of millennia-old operas was pretty patronising. “How so?”
“Unlike his mother he has a pretty good idea what’s going on. After both Kenyon Marik and Robert Steiner took stabs at their periphery neighbours he’s moved proactively in case Zabu Kurita does the same.” John held up the noteputer so that his companion could see it. “Stripped of the legalese, his new arrangement with the Pentagon League gives them access to most of the capacity of the Quatre Belle shipyards but in exchange they have to station a good portion of their warship strength there, securing it against raids.”
The redhead nodded in appreciation. “However unhappy he might be with the DeCheviliers he’s not hesitant to make use of them.”
Cynthia DeChevilier’s Pentagon League had settled for less than total independence of the Outworlds Alliance in the end. Instead they’d become a self-governing province stretching from Wynn’s Roost to Onverwacht, granted wide discretion in their industrialisation and militarisation. Or demilitarisation, since less than forty systems (some of them only sparsely populated) had difficulty supporting Aaron DeChevilier’s military forces.
In exchange, they would pay a small proportion of their taxes to the Outworlds Alliance treasury – not so small in absolute terms as industrialisation increased the wealth of the worlds – and the votes they were theoretically entitled to on the Executive Parliament were ceded to the President, giving David Avellar a lock on a quarter of the votes cast.
The reorganisation of the worlds surrounding the Pentagon League had enlarged Cerberus, Baliggora and Blommestein Provinces but it had also let Avellar move his supporters into positions within the provincial government. It was a long long way from giving him the power of most of his peers, but he was already wielding more authority than any President in the history of the Outworlds Alliance.
“If he doesn’t overplay his hand, this could transform the Alliance,” John noted thoughtfully. “Not into the equal of ourselves or the Combine but perhaps to the point of being the tipping point for influence in the region.”
“He doesn’t have any other neighbours to worry about I suppose,” agreed Hanse. “But it would be very easy for him to upset the Parliament and they still have the power to topple him. They aren’t fond of over-mighty leaders over there. After all, they mostly fled there to get away from tyrannical warmongers like House Davion.”
John threw back his head and laughed. “I hope we can shed that reputation.”
“Saints don’t get much done, John. Sometimes in politics you have to get your hands dirty. In this case, I hope he does well. Anything constraining Zabu Kurita helps us.”
“I think the Draconis Combine won’t be an issue for a good few years now. We’ve got some hard numbers on their losses and they had over a hundred and forty of their divisions – call it seventy divisions by our standards – at their high point, which was after First Robinson. Right now, our figures say they’re operating on one hundred and twenty-five divisions and half of them are seriously understrength, effective strength is something like seventy percent of that.”
“As exciting as that news is, the other side of that equation is our strength. Care to remind me of our losses?” asked Hanse with a raised eyebrow.
John fell quiet. “Sixteen divisions have been lost or disbanded,” he admitted. “A fifth of our strength gone in three years. If it wasn’t for the continued flow of defectors from the SLDF we’d be on the point of collapse.” Then his voice picked up. “But with them we’re stronger than ever. Almost as strong as the DCMS and CCAF combined.”
“Now if that was only all that we had to deal with.”
The First Prince nodded and reached for his handset, thumbing the volume of the opera up a little. He didn’t want to be overheard now of all times. “Francesca’s best estimate is that Lucas will be ready to resume his push on Markesan in the spring and he’ll have forty SLDF divisions and eighty warships to do it with. In theory we outnumber him but I can’t strip the Capellan or Draconis Marches so… really it’ll be forty or so of our divisions and thirty-three warships.”
Hanse leant back in his chair. “And that’s assuming that Barbara remains tractable.”
“I think I have to assume that. Right now, however badly the Capellan March will be hammered if she pushes it pales to what Lucas can do if he makes it another sixty light years.” Only about a hundred light years separated the SLDF spearheads from where John and Hanse sat. “I have to stop him now.”
“I told you not to hang everything on the capital,” the ghost warned. “But yes. Even if we preserve command integrity, it’d be a sign of weakness we can’t afford.”
“We’d fight on, we might even win in the end if it was just a matter of military power, but the High Council is finely balanced right now. It wouldn’t take many votes to shift for them to remove me.”
Hanse’s blue eyes snapped. “Damn politicians. In my day they’d never dare question the First Prince on military matters.”
“In your day every last member of the High Council had grown up with constant war. As had their parents, grand-parents… at least six generations of them. That’s not the case now and you’re blind to that, Hanse.” John gave him a steady look. “I know these people. I feel the same way.”
“And if Barbara pushes, despite us having her son?”
“Oddly less of an issue – most of the representatives along the Capellan border are already on the side of the Star League. What could bring me down is serious defectors from the Crucis March region. If I can’t protect the core of my power base then they have reason to doubt my fitness.”
Hanse nodded. “One last roll of the dice then.”
“Please stop using gambling metaphors. I get enough of that from Joel.”
“He’s got good sense,” John’s theoretical descendant observed. “Although he’d say it’s more you’re betting high on a pair of fours.”
“Please. I have a joker in my hand.” He frowned and then thumbed the opera off.
“Hey!”
“If I’m using gambling terms then it’s definitely too late in the evening.” John put the handset down and gathered up his papers. An early night sounded very tempting. “I’ll pick things up in the morning.”
-
I have to wonder what Snow Fire is doing - if Zabu is waking most mornings with a 'pillow woman', there might be an opportunity for the Lyrans short of war.
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Interesting point! It seems all kinds of things are now on the table,.. >:D
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It sounds like we’ll see the Jacks soon, too, maybe against the SLDF. What an irony.
I’d still really like to see Drak’s Drone DS with the Piranha missile launcher - I really like the idea, it’s something I may steal for my own project.
-
I have to wonder what Snow Fire is doing - if Zabu is waking most mornings with a 'pillow woman', there might be an opportunity for the Lyrans short of war.
Given she assassinated his son in 2850 the odds are significant that she's not been born yet. Unless Yoguchi had a thing for women at least a decade older than him, in which case we should not judge him.
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From Sarna: "Born in the Lyran Commonwealth in 2825, she joined the Lyran Intelligence Corps and was assigned to the Bodians" Also for her to be a spy in 2770's she would have to be over 100 in 2850
-
Boeing Megaplex, Galax
Crucis March, Federated Suns
9 January 2780
The Tancredi was only half-manned as she lay docked in the huge orbital yards. Minor repairs and upgrades would keep the fleet carrier in place for three weeks, providing an opportunity for the crew to spend time on a planetary surface. Granted the surface of Galax was no prize – it was only in the last few decades that the atmosphere had been deemed breathable – but given the lengthy deployments of war, anything was better than nothing.
Admiral Kenneth Jones was along those still aboard the ship. Technically there was no need for the admiral or his staff to participate in the dock-side staffing since they weren’t responsible for any of the Tancredi’s systems but Jones had coordinated with Commodore Mason, promoted to replace Mary Kaga, to have the staff cover various slots in one or the other of the two half-crews assigned to maintain some capabilities while their colleagues were away. It would be bad for morale for the flag staff to have more leave time than the ship’s own crew and it would let them keep their hands in on ordinary warship actions.
In keeping with this principle, Jones was on the navigational bridge covering the command slots while Mason – whose family actually lived on Galax – visited them. “Strange to see them with FSN markings,” he noted, looking at the next dock over, which was visible from the broad armoured windows of the compartment.
Commodore Edward Brookes, his exec from back on the Markesan, leant over and followed his gaze to where a pair of Samarkand-class carriers were being repainted. While the real work – refitting the electronics to FSN standards – was being taken care of inside the ships, the new paintwork would be a last resort for reminding aerospace pilots that the Combine-built carriers were now in the service of the Suns. “To be honest I doubt you’ll see them again in the near future,” he observed. “They’re destined for patrol routes in the outworlds sectors – keeping the peace in the rear areas.”
“I’d rather have them doing that than serving the Combine, at least.” Jones was about to comment on the sections of the hulls opened up to remove the obsolete point-defence miniguns and replace them with the same kind of anti-missile systems used by the Tancredi and her sister-ships but he was interrupted when the communications officer almost fell out of her chair.
“Sir!” the young woman exclaimed. “Signal from Megaplex Defense Command. LaGrange Alpha has unscheduled transits. Alert status two.” Which meant an attack was believed to be imminent.
“Confirmed,” the admiral said, forcing himself to remain calm for the sake of the crew. He crossed the bridge to the command console. “Alert status two, have all flight crews report to their stations and get our fighters ready to launch.”
The Megaplex orbited Galax in one of the five LaGrange points where the gravitational effects of the planet and its moon, Malabar, more or less cancelled out. Only one of them, LaGrange Alpha (located between the planet and moon) was suitable for use as a jump point, but once there it wouldn’t take long at all for a warship squadron to be able to threaten either the planet or the orbital infrastructure around it.
“Sorry to cut my visit short,” Brookes noted and with no further apology he headed for the door.
Jones nodded absently. After a tour commanding the Markesan, his old friend was now in command of part of the defences around Galax. He needed to get back to his own command post aboard the orbital stations that shared the LaGrange point with the Megaplex.
Reports filtered in both from other parts of the planetary system and from the Tancredi’s own departments. Fortunately, a half-crew included enough pilots to man all nine of the aerospace fighter wings. The deck crews were undermanned though and it took precious time to fuel and arm the fighters.
Meanwhile the alert was proven as accurate. A single Soyal-class heavy cruiser jumped in first at LaGrange Alpha and proceeded to clear the weapon platforms around it before they could inflict serious damage. The small space stations simply didn’t have the firepower to damage a warship of that size without using nuclear weapons and the stations had been too far down the priority list to receive any. Satisfied with its work the Soyal moved clear and the follow-on wave arrived.
By this point Brookes had reached his post and signalled Jones again. “Eight escort-sized warships – we make it four Vincent-class and four Carracks.”
“Didn’t the Capellans use Carracks as carriers at Kathil?” the admiral asked. “It’s a long way from where I’ve been operating but I try to keep up to date.”
“They did. Assuming the same arrangements we could be looking at close to six hundred fighters from before them.”
“It’s not a great time for us to be immobile.” The Tancredi and her escorts were no more able to leave dock than the Samarkands. It would take at least a day at this point in the repairs to close the hull up and get them under thrust.
Brookes nodded on the screen. “Between your fighters, our own defence squadrons and two wings that are due for assignment to the Trondheim we can field almost four hundred fighters. We have a course for them coming around Maladar. We need you to escort our Piranhas in.”
Jones raised an eyebrow at that. “The new assault dropships?”
“We have nine squadrons of them – hopefully that’ll serve as an equaliser,” Brookes confirmed.
“Very well.” Jones nodded to his flight ops crew. “We’re commencing launch now.”
As fighters were hurled from the Tancredi into space – she was docked with her launch catapults aiming out into space for this very reason – the Piranhas launched from their parent stations. Jones studied them from the bridge. Small ships, less than a thousand tons he estimated. A hit from a warship’s heavy batteries would probably shatter any of them, but Vincent and Carrack-class ships weren’t heavily armed. And there were fifty-four of them, forming into squadrons of six as if they were larger aerospace fighters.
Soon the fighters formed up on them and drives opened up, accelerating the defensive force around Malabar towards the oncoming storm. “We’ll need a second line,” he told Brookes.
The other officer nodded. “I’ve convinced the dock yard authorities that you’re cleared to fire your anti-fighter weapons. Please don’t use capital weapons though – if you fire from where you are we might as well just let the Capellans nuke us.”
“And your own weapon platforms?”
“They’re all reporting ready.” Brooks shrugged helplessly. “Armed shuttles are launching but they’re not exactly gunships.”
Jones nodded. Centuries ago, before the aerospace fighter, cumbersome armed shuttles had been the only weapon for contesting space around starships. Once aerospace fighters became available they’d shrunk to niche roles, unable to compete against the deadlier high-performance combatants.
Tens of thousands of kilometres away the Capellans fighters were launching to defend themselves from the incoming strike. They’d held back to spare their fuel but it was clear that the Carracks were indeed carriers and the Vincents were moving to screen them.
Six fighters screamed into the Capellan formation, brave men in older Centurions making a fast pass to gather data. Two fell prey to Capellan interceptors, then they were within sight of the warships… and then three were blotted out of space as the Vincents lit up the sky. Only one fighter made it past, angling for a long and slow deceleration towards Galax – the pilot didn’t have the fuel to make it back into the battle but he’d gathered the vital information: the Vincents had been fitted with improved anti-fighter turrets.
“Outnumbered and now they’ve built decent escorts,” Jones noted. “This is entirely too much like a fair fight.”
Brookes rubbed his chin. “Then it’s time to up our game. I’m putting the Piranhas on point.”
The little dropships had been making only 24.5m/s2 of acceleration, none of the Federated Suns force was pushing too hard while they waited for the first intelligence report. Now they went to maximum power and pushed past forty. Heavier aerospace fighters couldn’t keep up and wings of them began to form a reserve line, preparing to engage any fighters that got past the faster squadrons.
It didn’t seem that the Capellans knew what to make of the attack. Their fighters shifted patterns as if to intercept and then again, reforming with heavy aerospace fighters taking point.
“They must think they’re anti-fighter platforms,” Brookes concluded. “They don’t want to engage with lighter fighters in case they’re being sucked into a trap.”
“Are they?”
“No.”
An entire wing of Centurions fired off their Alamos into the heavy fighters. Only four hit – vaporising the Transgressors they hit – but in evading the missiles and then the explosions of the missiles’ warheads - which detonated whether they struck home or not - the Capellans had opened a hole and more FSN fighters opened fire, holding it open.
It wasn’t enough to keep the Piranhas alive, not all of them. Thirty-nine broke past the fighters and into weapons range of the Vincents’ naval autocannon. Four more died in the first salvo.
“What are the crew on them?” asked Jones softly. A third of the dropships were dead already.
Brookes smiled coldly. “They don’t have crews,” he answered.
The battlespace on the tactical display was lit up with blazes of fire as the thirty-five surviving Piranhas retaliated. They were outside of the range of fighter-launched missiles but their internal tubes were clearly firing much more substantial weapons – three of the Vincents blew apart as warheads penetrated their hulls and went off. The fourth spun helplessly, manoeuvring controls clearly lost, as the Piranhas closed on the Carracks and every Capellan fighter turned to try to eliminate the unexpectedly deadly dropships before the carriers could be destroyed.
Seeing the opportunity, the outnumbered Federated Suns fighters lunged in and the Capellans, caught in the fork of two undesirable outcomes were forced to split their efforts and do little to avert either.
Numbers of fighters dropped rapidly as the dogfight spread out, sapping the numbers available to go after the Piranhas. They still killed them – thirty-five became twenty-seven before the next missiles were launched and eighteen before the next salvo – but not in time and those missiles could engage fighters as easily as they could warships.
The Carracks died in an orgy of nuclear fire and fighters burned with them.
“You built drones and armed them with nukes?” Jones’ voice sounded far steadier to him than he expected. “That seems… risky.”
Brookes shrugged. “They’re under tighter control than those you faced, sir.” He looked aside. “And honestly, not as capable. We just lost the last of them.”
On the display the morass of fighters was dwindling before their eyes. Jones looked over to the communications officer. “Put me on general broadcast.” He looked back at his former exec. “If you don’t mind, I’d rather try to save my fighter pilots more losses.”
“Go right ahead.”
Jones adjusted the microphone. “All Capellan pilots, this is Admiral Kenneth Jones of the Federated Suns Navy. We’ve destroyed your carriers and most of you have expended too much fuel to make it back to the jump point except on slow unpowered courses that would leave you easy prey. You’ve fought bravely, but you’ve lost the battle. I offer you fair treatment according to the Ares Conventions to any pilot who surrenders themselves.”
There was a long pause with fighter squadrons pulling away from each other and regrouping, Jones guessing that his offer had sparked one of those natural lulls that can form, and then the communications officer adjusted a control and a voice came from the loudspeakers. “This is Major Tom Lomas. We still have the numerical advantage and why should we trust the Butcher of Royal?”
“Numbers aren’t everything, Major. Our pilots can return here to refuel and rearm – where do you expect to get new missiles from? And as for my own reputation, when I say there will be no quarter I mean exactly that – and when I offer it my word is just as true. It’s up to you: do your pilots live or do they die.”
There was a long pause and then Lomas spoke again. “All pilots, safe your weapons. He’s not wrong… and as Lord Baltazar is a prisoner there’s no shame in us sharing his status.”
.o0O0o.
Avalon City, New Avalon
Crucis March, Federated Suns
12 January 2780
“So much for another squadron of Capellan warships,” John told his son.
Joshua nodded absently, mind evidently elsewhere.
The First Prince shook his head, amusement warring with sympathy. He didn’t really have to brief Joshua on the Battle of Galax, but he’d hoped that it would be an effective distraction. The captain of the last Capellan warship, CCS Korvix, had been more willing to take on suicidal odds than Major Lomas but the arrival of FSS Hotspur and FSS Europa had pitted the heavy cruiser against two smaller but more agile warships that could work avoid the dangerous forward firing arcs and pick him apart. The Korvix wouldn’t have reached the Megaplex anyway, but the arrival of FSS Joan Brandt right behind her escorts had sealed the deal.
“I don’t think I was this bad when my children were born,” Hanse said clinically. “On the other hand, I was five hundred light years away when Victor was born so I didn’t actually hear about him until after the fact. Perhaps that makes it easier.”
“Joshua, are you listening?” John asked gently.
“Sure.”
“I just told you the ghost of your great-great-great-great-grandson was going to watch over Mary and would let us know if something went wrong,” he lied. “Normally I’d expect to be called on telling you something like that.”
Hanse took the hint and left the room.
His son’s brow furrowed. “You did?” He looked at John and then shook his head. “No, you didn’t.”
“Well I’m glad some of your faculties haven’t fled.”
“Are you surprised I’m distracted?” Joshua jerked his head in the direction of the palace medical wing. “I should be in there.”
“I’m not surprised and I’m sure you want to be, but what Mary needs is your quiet support,” his father told him. “I pulled you out because you were babbling questions at the doctors to the point you were getting in the way.”
Joshua flushed. “It didn’t seem like it was going properly.”
“Are you a doctor now? Contrary to what the media show, it’s not a quick process. It’s dramatically convenient to show a few contractions and then a baby but in reality it takes hours.”
“Was it like this for you?”
“I fully intended to be in the delivery room but your mother and mine thought I’d probably cause a scene so they conspired with Uncle Richard and he sent me to Argyle with Joseph. Of course, then you decided to be a bit stubborn and I was on my way back before she went into labour. I made it here about thirty minutes after you were born.”
His son shook his head. “The things one learns about one’s parents. Was that why I’m an only child?”
“Not so much. We’d considered having more children but with two wars over rival royal claims still in recent memory, we were conscious of how dangerous fratricidal power struggles can be within a royal house. After Joseph died and I became heir we decided it was better not to provide you with siblings.”
“Seems stupid to me, what about securing the succession? Uncle Joseph’s accident shows what can happen?”
John nodded. “Perhaps, but we have cousins far enough away not to feel entitled and at the time it seemed hopeful that we were past the worst stretch – Jonathon Cameron’s death put the Star League back in sane hands. If Simon Cameron had lived longer…” He made a tipping gesture with his hands. “It was a damned shame.”
“Do you think it was Amaris assassinating him?”
“In hindsight? Probably, but it’s unlikely we’ll ever know for sure. He might well have been planning that far ahead.”
The door to the waiting room opened to admit Edwina. “Have you got your wits together, Joshua?” she asked.
He flushed. “Sorry, mother.”
“If you think you can hold it together I believe Mary would appreciate your support,” Edwina told him. “Just remember your job is to hold her hand and be soothing, not to bother the doctors.”
Joshua bolted to the door and his parents waited until he was out of the room before looking each other in the eyes and breaking out laughing.
“Oh dear.” Edwina mopped at her eyes. “I shouldn’t laugh, but those poor doctors.”
John nodded. “Thinking back, it’s quite possible I wouldn’t have been any better. I take it all is well.”
“As hard as it might be for Joshua to believe, yes.”
Hanse stuck his head through the closed door. “Joshua’s back at Mary’s side and seems to have calmed down,” he reported cheerfully and withdrew.
Edwina glanced around the room and saw a tray with two empty glasses on the sideboard. “You gave him a drink?”
“We split a bottle of beer,” John told her. “Just enough to take the edge off his panic.”
She considered that and then took a seat. “That doesn’t sound like a bad idea. Is there another?”
“Not here but I’m sure the staff will be their usually efficient selves.”
Unsurprisingly, the answer was yes and they were quickly supplied with fresh glasses and two bottles of beer. “So that’s a bottle and a half of this for you?” Edwina asked John mildly as he took his first sip.
“It’s not particularly strong beer,” he observed and checked his watch. “Unless anything drastic happens in the next hour I was thinking we could have someone fetch sandwiches then and one of us should spell Joshua while he has something to eat.”
“Ah, thinking ahead.”
“I consulted with experts,” John told her. “I’m assured that as a grandparent my most important role right now is keeping the father in check.”
“Good advice.” Edwina lifted her own glass and sipped. When she set it down she gave him a serious look. “John, I asked you twenty years ago if you could keep Joshua out of the war with the Capellans.”
He nodded. “I remember. I couldn’t do that in the end.”
“No. So I’m not going to ask you for the same promise for this child. But what sort of life can our grandchild expect if this war goes on and on?”
“I won’t make you a promise I can’t keep, but I think it’s pretty close to the end now. Either the SLDF will break through and reach New Avalon this year or they’ll fail… and if they fail they don’t have any reserves left to try again.”
“It’s terrifying to think that. They seemed so strong, but now…” Edwina shook her head. “Some of those men and women have worked with you, haven’t they?”
“Some of them.” John leant back. “Seventh Army is the last of the ones that fought under my command. The rest are scattered around what’s left of the SLDF now or have taken service elsewhere.”
Hanse returned. “I think Joshua’s got it together,” he said. “They’re talking baby names to give Mary something to focus on. How do you feel about having a grand-daughter called Victoria?”
-
The Triad, Tharkad
Protectorate of Donegal, Lyran Commonwealth
2 February 2780
Jennifer Steiner checked herself in the mirror before entering the room. Satisfied that her clothes and make-up were immaculate, she opened the door and went to the seat that awaited her. It would be her first time representing the Lyran Commonwealth on the Star League Council, even if the meeting was a remote one.
Right on schedule three holograms sprang up in an arc in front of her desk. A fourth lagged only by a few seconds with Zabu Kurita joining the assembly. “Lady Steiner,” the young Coordinator greeted her mildly while his seniors were still looking her over.
She inclined her head slightly. “Lord Kurita.” He was very young, Jennifer thought. Intelligence reports hadn’t quite prepared her for that. It could mean that he wasn’t directly involved in the raids into Tamar and Skye, someone this young might have trouble imposing his will on his Warlords. On the other hand, perhaps his youth led him to authorise such operations without grasping the possible consequences.
“Is there any update on Robert’s health?” asked the Chancellor of the Capellan Confederation.
“He’s recovering well,” Jennifer informed them. “The doctors recommend a few months of rest before he resumes his duties, which he’s rather grudgingly agreed to.” Behind the jest was a troubling fact: her brother might grump about the enforced vacation but he was quick to tire now and had trouble focusing for more than an hour or two at a time. Unless that passed, her regency might have to last quite a bit longer.
Kenyon Marik shook his head. “Enough trivialities,” he said. “We should get on with business.”
“If you could indulge me on one question first, Captain-General.” Jennifer looked around the room to make it clear she wasn’t just asking Marik. “Why is it that we’re only meeting now and via HPG? I recall that before the Coup the Council met in person and that between our meetings representatives would be in almost permanent session, laying the groundwork for our debates. But none of that seems to have been reinstated since the Usurper was brought down.”
“We all have pressing affairs on our homeworlds,” Liao explained. “And the damage to Unity City had to be made good.”
“It’s been more than four years, Chancellor. And the city wasn’t fought for so the damage surely can’t have been that severe. Is it still in need of more repairs, Director-General?”
McEvedy shook his head. “Not that I’m aware. With the Bureau of Star League Affairs in disarray, the population is far less than it was but the SLDF and Ministry of Communication offices are operating. At most you might need to re-staff your residences there.”
“Alright, so we could go back there if we need to. Where are you going with this, Lady Steiner?” asked Kenyon testily. “We’ve managed to run the Star League with the current arrangement, why should we spend weeks in dropships just to say the same things face to face?”
“Respectfully, Lord Marik, I’m not convinced that the Star League is running well enough. As Lord McEvedy points out, the Bureau of Star League Affairs has been leaderless for years. Combined with the upswing in border raids and the economic problems we’re all facing, very little of the Star League appears to be operating at all, much less ‘well enough’.”
“And you think that getting us all in one room will improve matters?” asked Zabu mildly. “I don’t disagree on the issues we’re faced with, not at all, but your solution seems… less than convincing.”
“I would imagine that you’re well-versed in the matter of perceptions, Lord Kurita. One of the major factors in the economic issues is the lack of confidence in the Star League – after all, we’ve failed to restore many of the basic functions of the League over the last few years. I appreciate that the ongoing war hasn’t helped but we could do more and I feel that we should.”
“As you point out, there is a war going on,” Barbara Liao said, her face troubled. “It would be problematic for me to leave Sian while fighting is taking place on my border. Still, you are correct that our own presence isn’t necessarily the crux of the issue. Council advisors played an important role in shaping our decision-making but many of them died or fled when Amaris seized power.”
McEvedy leant forwards. “There would be no issue in my attending such a meeting, of course,” he offered. “And I believe that Lady Steiner makes a good point. Even if our own meetings continue to be by HPG, ongoing discussion of the various issues could be delegated to representatives in session between our meetings.”
“And such meetings would be on Terra?” Marik said with an air of disdain.
“That is the entire purpose of Unity City, Captain-General.” The Director-General spread his hands. “We all know that General Lucas will resume his advance on New Avalon soon. Once John Davion’s capital is in our hands we’ll have further issues to deal with in re-integrating it into the Star League. It seems a good time to lay the groundwork for that.”
Liao shook her head, the little decorations in her head-dress chiming like tiny bells. “I’m not convinced of the practical benefits.”
“I suppose it might help with morale,” the Coordinator mused. He leant forwards and rested his elbows on the table. “General Lucas’ soldiers would benefit… but I cannot attend such a gathering, not at this time with my realm invaded and my reign so new. Perhaps… I could send a representative, one of my family.”
Jennifer nodded. “That’s fair enough. I can attend personally, of course. Formally re-open Unity City as the centre of the Star League’s government.”
“And then?”
She turned to Kenyon Marik. “And then perhaps we can make a start on the economic problems we’re facing. We both know the sort of slump we’re facing. Even with Terran markets and factories becoming available once more the dollar continues to depreciate. Your problems are no better than mine – I don’t need spies to know the publicly available financial information of your realm.”
“And what do you suggest? That having our advisors talking to each other will magically solve everything? Perhaps you can bring the Camerons back as well?”
“Only a fool would say that it would be easy,” McEvedy observed. “And you are no fool, Lord Marik. But if we do not begin somewhere then nothing will ever be done. Even if only small progress is made then it would still be better than what we are all facing.”
“Hmm.” The Captain-General looked around the room grudgingly. “Very well. I will attend, although I warn you: my expectations are not high.”
The Chancellor nodded. “Like Lord Kurita I will send a representative, a member of House Liao. The war is coming towards a climax, after all. Perhaps we should make one further concession to public opinion.”
“What do you suggest?” asked McEvedy.
“Invite Lord Kerensky to attend,” she proposed. “After all this is merely a ceremonial occasion.”
“Why would we want him to attend?” spat Marik. “He’s an old man, let him rot in his backwater exile.”
“He is the last remaining symbol of the old days of the Star League,” Liao reminded him. “Such talismans have power. And if, as you say, nothing will come of this attempt, then let him carry the weight of it.”
“Steiner?”
Jennifer shrugged as Marik turned towards her. “My brother’s issues with the Protector are personal, Captain-General. I do not object to his presence on Terra. In fact, it may well be beneficial – in his absence many of the SLDF still look to DeChevilier and Davion as his successors. Let us make it clear that they have betrayed his legacy and it may weaken such sentiments.”
.o0O0o.
Nadir Jump Point, Non Diz
Sian Commonality, Capellan Confederation
7 March 2780
Right on the border between the Federated Suns and Capellan Confederation – and closer than was comfortable to the Taurian Concordat – Non Diz had been settled after the Reunification War. Due to its location, the Terran Hegemony had overseen a joint government between the two member-states whose space it hung between. Such governments were no longer feasible, of course, but it had been settled peacefully enough here – with so much of the SLDF in the area no one wanted to be provoke a reaction and John Davion had been content thirteen years ago to withdraw his own influence in exchange for reciprocal concessions over another shared world.
With access to what passed for public media within the Capellan Confederation, Weiss Plains thought the aftermath of that probably hadn’t been peaceful. She could read between the lines and the Capellan nationalism was a little too strident.
It wasn’t her problem though. If all went well, she’d be leaving soon.
“Admiral Plains?” A Capellan spacer entered the small mess-deck. There were guards at the entrance but this was the first Capellan to enter since Plains got here. This compartment and the sleeping compartments on this deck were Federated Suns territory, her behaviour and that of the other occupants regulated by parole rather than direct supervision. That hadn’t been the case before, but over the last few months kid gloves had become the order of the day for their captors.
Weiss stood up. “I’m Admiral Plains.”
The man saluted. “Ma’am, your transport will arrive soon. The captain requests that you and your people prepare to disembark.”
“Please inform the captain that we shall prepare to do so.” She waited until he had left and then turned to the other prisoners. “You heard the man. Go make sure you have your bags packed because if you leave anything behind then I, for one, am not coming back to fetch anything.”
There was a ripple of laughter and the soldiers and spacers headed for the doors to their sleeping compartments, forming an orderly queue as they filed out. Weiss followed them but rather than heading for her own compartment she briskly toured the deck, checking that those occupying each room were aware of the instruction.
In two cases where no one had been in the mess compartment and hadn’t had the news conveyed she informed them of the update and sent the prisoners bouncing around their quarters packing meagre possessions.
In the vast majority of cases, they had been captured with little more to their names than what they were wearing but the Capellans had provided fresh clothes in the form of garishly red-dyed jumpsuits and lightweight shoes. And as men and women will, smaller implements and keepsakes had accumulated. Weiss would be surprised if anyone needed more than a small backpack though – which was fortunate since that was all they had – one pack per prisoner, provided when they were informed they were being relocated from the detainment centres.
When she reached her own compartment, she found Commodore Baracus had everyone prepared. Since Weiss had been living out of her pack since embarking on the dropship it only took her a moment to make sure she wasn’t missing anything.
“Do you think this is it?” the large officer asked her, keeping his voice neutral.
“More than likely. Whatever has them on their best behaviour, they don’t seem to be playing games,” she assured him.
Only a few moments later the same spacer as before arrived at the door of her compartment. “Respects of the captain, Admiral. Please march your personnel to the main docking airlock.”
Weiss nodded. “Understood.” She looked around the room at those who’d shared it with her, mostly the senior officers among the prisoners. “Alright, we talked about this so go get your platoons ready. And remember, whatever happens we’re the Armed Forces of the Federated Suns, so maintain discipline and...”
“...never give them the satisfaction,” the officers chimed in, amusement on some faces.
They exited the room in a file, a mix of navy and army personnel representing units that had fought and bled along the Capellan border for the last three years. As Weiss followed them out and around the circular deck she saw they’d paired off as planned, one officer remaining at the door of each of the eleven other compartments while the other entered to chivvy along any prisoners not ready to go.
At the hatchway, the two guards snapped to attention and saluted as Weiss approached. She eyed them for a moment, having to raise a chin a touch given their height, and then returned their salutes. She got another salute a moment later as the dropship’s commander arrived and returned it just as crisply.
“We’ve cleared the passageways across the station,” the young man informed her. “You can lead your personnel directly across to the next dropping bay where the exchange will be processed. There are guards at all the exits from that route so if the signs aren’t clear on directions, you only need ask.”
Weiss nodded. “It’s an Olympus-class station I gather.”
“Ah, yes.” The question of ‘how she knew that’ was visible on his face but he didn’t ask.
“I’m familiar with the layout then.”
The commander made a concessionary gesture. “Please follow me to the airlock then.”
Baracus broke off at the door with three other officers to act as a rear-guard for the entire group and the first compartment emptied into the long single file of personnel who’d be following Weiss out of captivity. There were more than seven hundred of them aboard the dropship and Weiss knew that many other exchanges like this one must be taking place.
No one interfered as she led the file out to the dropship hatch, where the commander stopped, and then into the space station they were docked in. Like the dropship they were in zero gravity but there were plenty of hand-holds for them to use and she made quick progress up the docking arm and then along the eerily deserted transit route to the next arm, following the signs that had been placed.
There were more armed guards at the docking hatch to this dropship and they wore the familiar uniforms of Federated Suns Marines. Weiss felt moisture begin to form at the corner of her eyes as she saw them and blinked it away. They came to attention as she arrived. “Rear Admiral Plains and a detachment of seven hundred forty-six personnel,” she reported and saluted them. “I request permission to board.”
A major emerged from the hatch. “Permission granted, Admiral,” she responded warmly. “We’ll start disembarking our own passengers now, to make room for you.”
Another single file of men and women began to emerge from the hatch, wearing the plain grey sweaters and pants used by the AFFS military prison system. The man in the lead looked particularly out of place in the clothes and it took Weiss a moment to realise why: she’d seen his face dozens of times before in the media.
Lord Baltazar Liao, heir to the Chancellor of the Capellan Confederation, saluted Weiss briskly as he led his own column of prisoners back into Capellan territory.
I suppose I see why they’ve been so considerate of us, Weiss thought as she returned the salute and stepped through the airlock in the other direction, mind racing. How did we wind up with him in custody? I’ve got a lot to catch up on.
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That's a good way to ensure good treatment for your POWs... grab the Heir.
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Moisture in her eyes indeed! :thumbsup:
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I'm surprised about that prisoner exchange, with Baltazar in FS captivity the lines of succession for both the CC and DC aren't exactly clear, so a couple of major raids could finish off both nations.
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I'm surprised about that prisoner exchange, with Baltazar in FS captivity the lines of succession for both the CC and DC aren't exactly clear, so a couple of major raids could finish off both nations.
Those would be quite the "major" raids. You're talking about decapitation strikes that have to:
A) travel undetected to the heart of two interstellar empires
B) bring sufficient Naval and Aerospace power to fight their way through what would undoubtedly be the strongest air and space defences both states could put up, then, assuming you can do that;
C) land a force powerful enough to defeat the praetorian guards of said states as well as;
D) have unimpeachable evidence that your target is actually present, and somehow ferret out all their escape plans.
With the SLDF less than 4 jumps from New Avalon, I don't think the AFFS could put together a force to carry out even one of those operations
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As I recall, the original outline had the council finally making peace with the FS sometime after Jennifer Steiner came to power...
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I'm glad Marik didn't try to use SAFE and kill Baltazar Liao, framing the FedSuns for the murder
Edit:
The other idea would be Davion sending a back channel message to the Taurians, asking if they could provide aid to the Magistracy in their time of troubles. Davion can claim that he is currently at war, and is diverting forces from the Taurian front because he needs them. Since the Davion forces aren't on the Taurian border, the Taurians are free to divert some of their forces to aid the Magistracy.
For Davion, this is a win-win-win. If the Taurians send forces to help the Magistracy, Davion has forces that can be used to slow down the SLDF (if they were former SLDF, they will free up forces that weren't), and could actually withdraw more since he knows the Taurian forces are not present. If the Taurians decide to attack the FedSuns instead, Davion can send a copy of that message to the Magistracy and let them know that the Taurians were not only refusing to help them in their time of trouble, but are also acting as rabid animals. If the Taurians do nothing, Davion has blackmail material that he can use later.
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With the DC stuck in a civil war and unable to continue their advance, the FS is (relatively) free on one front. The only way to put a brake on the attacking SLDF was to get a cease-fire from the CC front to regroup the defense.
I could see the FS break the SLDF and regain the lost province for a somewhat stable frontier with the TH, give back Tikonov and the other annexed systems to hammer the antebellum frontier with the CC in a peace treaty but keep Chesterton and the other systems that Liao wine about all the time :p.
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Did the CCS Korvix surrender.
I don't think the FS will willingly give up Tikonov, too great a prize.
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It's also difficult to keep against the full CCAF. Just loot tooling and blueprints before lift-off. You get some years of respite from it and keep your supplies for more important stuff.
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Ah, finally! I like this idea; the Piranhas aren't incredible weapons, just barely adequate and used to save the lives of pilots that might otherwise be sacrificed. Something that was overlooked in the Jihad.
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Piranha is a good name for them... I just hope they're not too expensive, given the loss rate in the battle of Galax...
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Piranha is a good name for them... I just hope they're not too expensive, given the loss rate in the battle of Galax...
they really need to make drone fighters to, they would be a godsend for defensive operations and free up tons of pilots. I am sure it is a bit harder to get the AI right for it but i am sure it is fesable for the fedsuns to do so.
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Ah, finally! I like this idea; the Piranhas aren't incredible weapons, just barely adequate and used to save the lives of pilots that might otherwise be sacrificed. Something that was overlooked in the Jihad.
Piranha is a good name for them... I just hope they're not too expensive, given the loss rate in the battle of Galax...
Not so much a drone as a missile carrying missile with advanced defences?
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Unity City, Terra
Alliance Core, Terran Hegemony
29 March 2780
“Duke Mattlov!”
Daniel Mattlov made a face as he heard the unwelcome voice. He’d hoped his presence here could remain discreet – a quiet chat with his counterparts in the Capellan and Draconian delegations to compare notes on their efforts to duplicate Federated Suns carrier doctrine. No such luck.
Turning he saw the Captain-General of the Free Worlds League bearing down on him and bowed slightly. “Lord Marik.”
Kenyon Marik came to a halt facing him. “What is this I hear about you stopping my dropships?”
“Have we?” he asked, thinking back. “I understood your ship landed under diplomatic credentials, I hadn’t heard you had difficulties.”
“Not my ship, you…r grace.” Marik had plainly bitten back something offensive. “The staff and supplies for my residence.”
“Weren’t they aboard your dropship?”
The Captain-General shook his head angrily. “Don’t be obtuse. Four dropships of servants and furnishings are being held for inspection in high orbit by your navy.”
“Ah, of course. Your credentials cover a single dropship.” Mattlov shrugged. “Well we do have to carry out security inspections of inbound traffic, particularly for anything that’s going to be landing on this part of the globe. I’m sure your ships will be cleared for landing quickly.”
“I want them cleared immediately! How dare you suggest that my personal effects be inspected in this way?”
Why the Captain-General thought four – five including his own - dropships constituted personal effects escaped Mattlov. “I’ll see if there’s a hold up but only the dropship you were on was covered for priority to bypass inspection. Every other dropship gets examined.” He glanced over Marik’s shoulder in the direction of the Council Chambers. “Don’t you have somewhere else to be?”
“The Council Lords won’t gather for some time,” Marik said dismissively. “And lesser attendants all know who I am. Why would I stand in a reception line?”
And it probably has nothing to do with avoiding Lord Kerensky, thought Mattlov. I might have been busted down a rank twice but at least I was never cashiered. “It must be -”
He was cut off by the shrill of an alarm siren.
“What the devil?” Marik exclaimed. “What now? This is turning into a circ-”
He was cut off by Mattlov grabbing him by the shoulder. “That was the chemical alert!” he snarled. “This way.” The fine architecture of Unity City hid some very functional equipment and they were less than a hundred yards from a shelter. The two men barrelled through the thin crowd of late arrivals and through the door before panic had time to take hold on those around them.
Marik slammed and sealed the door behind him. “Chemicals?” he spat. “So much for your security.”
The duke ignored him, powering up the shelter’s communications panel. “Central security, this is Crasher-One. The chemical alarm went off in the Court complex. I’m in Shelter Fourteen with Hawk-One.”
The voice that replied was tense. “Confirmed, Crasher-One. Chemical sensors are picking up atmospheric toxins in four sectors. This is a Class III incident. Do you know how to check your air?”
Class III indicated potentially lethal agents had been released, Mattlov thought. He saw Marik pale at the designation. “It’s been a while but I recall the drill.” Turning he used his watch’s inbuilt magnetic coding to spring the door of the safety cabinet. A portable sensor wand was clipped to the inside of the door and he swept it up and down himself, then did the same for the suddenly silent Captain-General. Studying the results, the naval minister walked back to the door and swept around the edges, checking the seal.
“It looks as if we’re going to live,” he reported after considering the results.
Marik exhaled sharply. “That fool Steiner,” he hissed.
“The Archon-Regent?”
“It was her damned idea to get us all in a room together. We just gave Davion’s damn assassins a perfect target. He has all those SLDF chemical weapons his people stole on Helm.”
“It’s a little early to say definitively who’s behind this.” Mattlov went back to the communications panel.
Marik laughed bitterly. “Who else could it be?”
“I’m sure the conspiracy theorists will point at the two of us,” he grunted, “Media will jump on the fact neither of us was in the main hall as soon as that comes out.”
“That’s outrageous!”
”True though. I doubt we’ll get a confession from whoever it is and you know how the gutter press are.” Opening the microphone, he reported their status. “Can you tell us how bad it is?”
“We’re still moving people in with protective gear, sir.” The woman’s voice had steadied a little. “The main hall has been hit hard.”
Daniel Mattlov paled. “The Director-General?”
“Sir I cannot comment on -”
“Check your authorisations,” he snapped. “Crasher-One. I’m ****** Naval Minister now tell me if the boss is in this?”
A new voice spoke up. “I’ve got this. Minister Mattlov, the Director-General’s security got him to a shelter but he’s confirmed as exposed.”
Mattlov’s fist hit the wall. “Damn, damn, damn!”
“Sir?”
“Right, my fault for asking the question.” He shook his head. “Who else made it out?”
“Lord Liao is also in a shelter sir, but his status is not confirmed. The Kerensky, Steiner and Kurita delegations appear to have taken the initial brunt.”
Marik pushed closer. “How bad?”
“Sir?”
“This is Council Lord Kenyon Marik. How bad is this toxin?”
Mattlov gave the other man a grim look. “Class III means that if they’re still in that room there’s a better than average chance that half the Council are dead, Marik. Now shut up and let these people work.”
“Of course, of course.” Marik backed away, face conflicted. “I was merely… concerned.”
“I assume we’re going to be staying here until decontamination is done?” he asked the security centre.
“Yes sir. That will be a few hours. We have to prioritise getting into the hall and coping with those exposed.”
“I understand.” Mattlov glanced back at where Marik had unfolded one of the room’s bunks and was sat on it, face blank. Well if he keeps his mouth shut then maybe there won’t be a murder before we get out of here.
Dammit, James. Don’t be dead. I don’t want to have to tell your daughter that you’re not coming home to her.
.o0O0o.
Fort Bourgogne, Marlette
Crucis March, Federated Suns
31 March 2780
Since the fortress had been in AFFS hands for years, it was no surprise to the SLDF that complete schematics were in the hands of their opponents, but there had been no time or resources to significantly change the defences. Nor did they have any particular reason to improve the defences of passages too small for anything but dismounted infantry – emplaced lasers and machineguns were surely sufficient.
And the truth was that even the vaunted Nighthawks would have probably had trouble, Alexandra Davion thought. Four of her men had taken enough beating that they’d had to stop advancing and let the rest of the battalion bypass them, their Jacks battered to the point of impaired mobility and in two cases they’d need to be medevac’d when the opportunity arose.
But in exchange her battalion was deep inside Fort Bourgogne and they’d managed it in minutes, the garrison hopefully distracted by the more obvious force landing around the main entrances.
Up ahead another reinforced door blew open under shaped charges and this was the big one, the one that mattered. Alexandra rose to her feet, seeing tracer fire emerge from the opening. “On the bounce!” she shouted and she was the third one through.
The hole the engineers had made was large enough for two men to use abreast, or a single Jack. The first man through – Blescoe, she thought, wife and two kids back on Kestrel – crashed through and then to the floor. Whether it was the lasers or the grenades that dropped him didn’t matter but he bought Allard, the next in line, time to get out and bring his machinegun to bear. The young corporal, also from Kestrel, made it two steps past the breach before he fell with a scream but the defensive fire was split now as Alexandra entered behind him and Allard’s brief burst had forced the enemy to go to ground behind what little cover there was.
Had the next man in line been unarmoured, firing her jump jets would have maimed him but in Jacks that simply wasn’t a concern – Alexandra clenched as she rocketed across the open space and into a squad of infantry trying to get their Mausers back in line with the breach. When almost a ton of metal and Davion hit the squad leader at high speed he went tumbling, lucky not to have been caught between her at the wall.
Flickers of amber on her systems display showed Alexandra where she was taking damage from the lasers but with SLDF troops around her no one was using grenades. She used the barrel of her machinegun to batter down another soldier and then opened fire into the exposed flank of the next squad.
Machinegun fire ripped into the men around her, several rounds hitting her own armour without effect, as more of the battalion broke through to join her. By the time there were six of them out and fighting the platoon that was holding the position had effectively been over-run.
Alexandra looked around, ignoring the sobs and screams of the wounded soldiers for a moment. One of the primary access tunnels – excellent. “Conway, how’s Allard?”
“Leg hit, he’ll live but he’s not mobile.”
“Could be worse then,” she said. “No hope for Blescoe.”
“Sorry, sir.”
“There’s no such thing as a bloodless war, more’s the pity. Allard, get back inside the passage and hold it until relieved.”
“R-roger, sir,” the corporal gasped as two of his comrades helped him up. He wouldn’t be able to obey that order yet, there was a full battalion to get through the breach and more than two hundred Jacks took time to filter through one at a time.
The tunnel floor didn’t shake but her sensors picked up a vibration and translated it into data. Shit. “Incoming ‘Mechs!” Alexandra snapped, her voice lost in a dozen others coming to the same conclusion. “Able Company with me,” she ordered. They’d taken point and all the losses so far but they were also almost entirely through into the tunnel by now.
With a flare of jump jets she started to bound in the direction of the approaching BattleMechs. If they could concentrate their firepower then ‘Mechs could shred anyone coming through the doorway fast enough to jam the entire operation up. Able Company were right on Alexandra’s heels, a few squads pushing themselves to overtake her.
The ‘Mechs burst into view, stubby rounded shapes with vestigial arms made up entirely of weapons – UrbanMechs, Alexandra identified. Most MechWarriors considered them a laughable threat – too small and too slow for use on a modern battlefield, but they were excellent for fighting in cramped quarters like this.
There was nothing wrong with their pilots’ reflexes either. It was doubtful that any of the MechWarriors realised what they were facing but three of them opened up with their autocannon and two Jacks were torn apart by large calibre shells. The rest scattered, bouncing on their jump jets to make themselves difficult targets as they closed in.
Alexandra was uncomfortably aware that the ‘Mechs had what might be called a target-rich environment – seventy-odd Jacks in a tunnel only sixty metres wide. But that also meant that they had two hundred machineguns firing back as soon as they closed the range.
Eight more Jacks were hit, their occupants shredded, before they reached the point of returning fire but then the battle descended into a wild melee with the UrbanMechs trying to form a tight ring, covering their backs against the vengeful infantry.
It wasn’t enough, the Jacks were too small and too agile. At point blank ranges, machineguns ripped into armour plating with abandon. Two of the UrbanMechs fell as the Jacks swarmed over them, armoured gloves finding weak points around the knees and damaging the actuators that controlled the ‘Mech’s lower limbs.
“Go for the back of the right shoulder!” Sam shouted. The trooper had clamped herself to the autocannon of one UrbanMech and was firing her machinegun over the weapon into the domed upper hull of the UrbanMech.
Alexandra joined Sam’s squad in firing at the designated panels. The result was a brutal explosion that tore the autocannon and Sam away from the rest of the ‘Mech. The reactor scrammed and panels atop the ‘Mech burst away as automatic systems ejected the MechWarrior upwards – but in the low-ceilinged tunnel the ejection seat smashed its occupant against metal and stone.
In the whirlwind of combat, Alexandra saw a Jack go flying as another UrbanMech lashed out with a clumsy kick that connected. Firing her jump jets, Alexandra vaulted up onto the ‘Mech’s forward hull where the weapons couldn’t bear. Bracing herself against the cockpit glass she fired up the cutting torch in her left vambrace and began to carve away at the armour glass.
She could see the MechWarrior inside, eyes wide behind the mask of her neurohelmet. With sudden resolve, the woman pushed her controls and the UrbanMech rushed forwards. The compressed 360-degree display inside Alexandra’s helmet showed her the wall of the tunnel rushing towards her.
At the last moment she loosened her grip and dropped down to roll between the UrbanMech’s legs. Thirty tons of BattleMech hit the wall, doing no great amount of damage to either, but it seemed to stun the MechWarrior and then most of a platoon descended on the UrbanMech, tearing into its joints.
Scrambling back to her feet, Alexandra looked around. Several Jacks were on the floor, some struggling to rise while others evidently never would. Able’s losses were at least two men for every ‘Mech they’d taken down but they’d taken out the entire company of ‘Mechs in moments.
“Bravo, Charlie,” she ordered on the battalion command channel. “I need you on point for the next step on the operation.”
At least they had more room to work with now, she thought as the two company commanders confirmed they were on their way – Bravo was entirely through the breach now and Charlie was only a few moments behind them.
“It’s only a matter of time until more of the defenders are cut loose to come after us,” she reminded them. “The command centre’s less than a kilometre away from our current location.”
“Do you think we might catch General Lucas himself?” asked Sam as she regrouped her squad.
Alexandra couldn’t shrug inside her armour. “If he’s dumb enough to try to fort up, maybe. But no one promised he’d be dumb.”
.o0O0o.
Imperial City, Luthien
Pesht District, Draconis Combine
1 April 2780
The messenger knelt before Zabu’s throne. “My lord, the reports from Terra have been confirmed. It grieves me to report that your cousin Thomas lies dead after the cowardly attack upon the Court of the Star League.”
The young Coordinator lowered his head slightly. “First Drago and now Thomas. Terra seems unhealthy for the Dragon’s kin,” he mused.
At his side, Warlord Fujiwara clenched his fists. “McEvedy must have lowered his guard. This is unforgiveable.” There was less energy to his words than there might have been.
“Our initial reports indicated that McEvedy himself has fallen to the attack,” Zabu noted. “If so then he has paid in full for his security’s failure.”
“Of course, Lord Kurita.”
“At the time our source reported, my lord, McEvedy lived,” the messenger advised cautiously. “It is understood that his life hangs in the balance. Leadership of the Hegemony has fallen to the Duke of Caph during the Director-General’s incapacity.”
Zabu steepled his fingers. “Tell me then, who else among the great lords has fallen?”
“Besides your cousin, both Protector Kerensky and Archon-Regent Steiner are confirmed as dead. Barnabas Liao, representing his mother, took a lighter dose but sources suggest he will recover with some impairment.”
“Ah.” The young lord grunted in acknowledgement and then made a dismissive gesture. “I will read the fuller report later.”
“Hai!” The messenger rose smoothly and bowed sharply before backing out of the room.
“Kerensky dead.” Zabu rubbed his chin. “That is interesting.”
“I regret that I do not follow your thoughts, lord.”
The younger man rose to his feet and turned his back on the hall, instead studying the intricately bejewelled map of the Combine that rose up behind his throne. “Davion’s agents rarely use gas. According to the ISF it is considered to be too indiscriminate. It offends their pride to consider themselves less than precise.”
“An understandable conceit. And yet, if Lord Thomas was a target…?”
“Quite,” Zabu agreed. “In revenge for Robinson they might stray from that pattern. But to do so where Aleksandr Kerensky was a target? That seems unlikely. If Davion himself ordered this then he may have profound regrets now.”
“And if he did not?” the warlord frowned. “Who else might be responsible? The periphery states would have motivation.”
“I can construe motivation for almost any faction,” murmured Zabu. “Robert Steiner and Kenyon Marik would benefit most and since the Steiner delegation was nearest to the centre of the attack it may be that this was masterminded by Loki.”
The shaven-headed MechWarrior frowned. “Neither was fond of Kerensky,” he conceded. “And Lord Marik had somehow found an excuse to be elsewhere… Steiner’s Lyran Intelligence Corps I would have thought to target him were they involved.”
“Possibly yes. But for Robert Steiner this removes his sister, who occupied his seat and might have been reluctant to step down for him, and also one of House Kurita’s leaders alongside Kerensky. Kenyon Marik has no particular cause to include my cousin in his targets, in fact a strong House Kurita threatens his own foes.”
“I see the direction of your thoughts.” Fujiwara dipped his head. “Should we seek to avenge this then?”
Zabu shook his head. “Not directly. It is preferable for us that Davion take the blame and restoring a weak Robert Steiner to control of the Commonwealth serves us well. My cousin’s death will be repaid later. Perhaps lady Jennifer’s twin can be sent to console her in the next life, depriving Robert of his most trusted general.”
The Warlord bowed deeply. “The Coordinator’s will be done.”
Returning to his throne, the head of House Kurita considered the unfolding politics of the Inner Sphere. “I will announce four days of grieving. In that time, the HPG stations are to fall silent in tribute to my cousin’s fate. By the time they resume transmission, you are to ensure that they are fully under our control.”
Fujiwara hesitated. “Then the time has come then?”
“Davion was right after all, the Star League is dead.” His lips curled. “And we are not eta to tie ourselves to a rotten corpse. Whether Lucas triumphs or not, the SLDF and the AFFS will weaken each other in the next few weeks to the point that no one will seriously challenge us.”
The older man dropped to his knees. “Truly, you have the wisdom of your ancestors.” He stood again, not with the crispness of youth, and obediently made his exit.
Zabu waited for a few moments and then murmured. “My congratulations.”
An unassuming man emerged from the shadows of drapes that flanked the dais. “It is our pleasure to serve, Lord Kurita.”
“I trust that the agent responsible has been suitably rewarded?”
“A suitable reason has been prepared to grant honours to his family for his selfless duty,” the spymaster assured him.
He received a nod. “To reward service is the duty of a lord. I regret we cannot openly acknowledge his deed.” Zabu leant back in his chair. “The four days of grieving will mean more work for you.”
“Ah?”
“Consider it a window to purge the spy networks that you have identified without word going from world to world to alert them that our patience with them has been exceeded. So far as is possible, I would blind the eyes of others within the Combine.”
The man folded his hands before him. “I crave permission to remind the lord Kurita that once this is done it is likely that our own sources of information will suffer.”
“I accept that price. A ship that sinks often drags its crew down into the deeps with it. I would not have the Dragon brought down as the Star League sinks.”
“As you will, lord Kurita.” He hesitated and touched an ear piece. “Your pardon…”
Zabu arched an eyebrow and waited patiently.
The man straightened. “Lord, we have a new report from the Federated Suns. The SLDF has come under attack at Manteno, Bristol and Marlette – two of the primary staging grounds for their operations and General Lucas’ headquarters.”
“Davion has moved first then.” The Coordinator considered that fact and then shrugged. “Who would have thought, five years ago,” he asked rhetorically, a wry smile creasing his face, “That he of all men would be the doom of the Star League?”
-
Fort Bourgogne, Marlette
Crucis March, Federated Suns
1 April 2780
If he’d had the time then Jack Lucas would have much preferred to be in a BattleMech right now. Unfortunately, the sudden penetration of the fortress by infantry in powered armour – and when had Davion managed to obtain that? – had barely left time for his staff to scramble into four Maultier APCs and evacuate.
The hovercraft were far too fast for the infantry to catch up, but as they roared at over a hundred kilometres an hour through the winding tunnels dug into Marlette’s crust, the general was isolated from events. Although they’d been slipping out of his control anyway, he acknowledged bitterly.
“Sir.” Major Mundy passed him a commset. “It’s Colonel Hazen.”
Lucas pressed one headset to his ear, not bothering to secure it properly. “Colonel, I’m glad you managed to get away.” Hazen had been on her way back to the command centre from the air defence station’s own separate command network when the attack developed.
“I’m not unused to having to move quietly,” she replied grimly. “Sir, the Delta and Golf entrances are compromised, we have to assume the fort will fall.”
“More of that powered armour?”
“Yes sir. They’re a formidable force multiplier in this sort of operation.”
Lucas nodded and then rested his head against the side of the troop compartment. “We could have used them in… more battles than I care to think about. What’s your situation, Colonel?”
“I’ve scraped up a scratch lance of ‘Mechs – used my codes to unlock the security on some of the replacements hangered in Sector Seven. If the lift-shaft is working then we can get to Beta entrance and the drop port there.”
The day before a reinforced infantry division had been defending Fort Bourgogne, the Twenty-Eighth Infantry. Just writing off the two entrances reported as compromised would cut that sharply that and most likely Echo and Foxtrot would be gone as well. That would mean half the garrison cut off… then again, the bulk of the troop transports were with forward units so evacuating the entire garrison wasn’t feasible anyway.
“Understood. We’ll consolidate towards Beta and evacuate what we can. God bless, Liz.” What a disaster.
Handing the commset back to Mundy, Lucas tried to remember the exact layout of the base. “Major, can you reach General Leary?”
She checked her set and then shook her head. “I’d have to make a hard connection, sir. Colonel Hazen is in the same sector but past that I can’t give you a reliable link.”
Lucas nodded and leant forwards, rapping his fist against the frame of the hatch into the driver’s compartment. “Get us to a communications node, sergeant. I need to give some orders.”
”Sir, I don’t know where -”
“Take the next ramp on your left,” Mundy interrupted. “Then go right at the top. There’s a redundant relay station four hundred metres from the ramp.”
The driver obediently turned at the ramp, the other three Maultiers leaving them behind as they plunged on towards Beta entrance.
The relay station wasn’t much more than a room carved out from the rock with cabling converging from three directions. Mundy jumped out almost before the APC had stopped moving and started plugging a hand-held terminal into the computers at the junction. Two minutes later she offered Lucas the commset again as he stood over her.
“General Leary?”
He heard coughing and then: “Yes?” the familiar voice of the base commander replied. “This is Leary.”
“General, we’re going to have to evacuate whoever we can. My understanding is that Beta entrance is still secure.”
“Yes sir. We’re holding at Delta but Golf is out of contact. I’ve ordered all but token forces from Hotel and Foxtrot to pull back and try to secure internal choke points. That won’t do more than buy time though.”
“It’ll have to do. Can you withdraw?”
“Not really,” the major general replied cheerfully. “I’ve got less than twenty ‘Mechs and maybe two hundred men left, but we’re stalling at least a brigade. I’ll have the troops at Echo fall back and try to hold choke points. If you can get the troops from the other four entrances out then that’ll leave something to rebuild the Division with.”
Assuming there’s anyone left to rebuild, Lucas thought bitterly. He’d pulled everything that really remained in for the attack that was supposed to be launched in four days by Seventh and Eighth Armies. Twelfth Army was stretched to garrison occupied Federated Suns Worlds and Thirteenth Army was cobweb holding together bases in the Lyran Commonwealth and Terran Hegemony. And it was unlikely Marlette was the only world being hit.
That was all that was left. Sixty divisions, only half of them fit for more than garrison work.
And now General Kerensky was dead. He’d been trying to work out how he could break that to the troops when the attack came in.
It couldn’t have been John Davion, could it? The timing was suspicious, but gas? Really?
“Sir?” asked Leary.
Realising he’d been lost in thought, Lucas touched the microphone. “We’ll have to try,” he said. “Don’t try some heroic sacrifice, General. If you can buy us twenty minutes then bug out or surrender. We can get you out of a detention camp, but not from the grave.”
“Surrender, sir?”
“We’re not fighting Rimjobs, General. Once there’s no further point to resistance, lay down your weapons.”
“I’m not actually familiar with that manoeuvre,” Leary told him briskly. “But I’m told I’m good at improvisation.”
Lucas was about to offer some mild reassurance – it was hardly the time for a reprimand – when another hovercraft screamed up the ramp and missed the turn towards the communications node. The little vehicle bounced off the wall and he saw what looked like half its flank fall off.
Then a second hovercraft made a better job of the turn and the general realised these weren’t SLDF vehicles – they weren’t much more than a cockpit and a turbofan. What he’d thought was flank armour were men clinging to the sides, troopers wearing what must be the new Davion powered armour.
Only a moment later he realised that the hovercraft in the lead was still coming, and the driver wasn’t going to manage to avoid the Maultier either. Grabbing Major Mundy’s sleeve, Lucas hurled her to the floor and threw himself on top of her.
Several tons of metal smashed together as the AFFS hover tank hit the rear of the Maultier, crushing part of the engine. The back of the smaller hovercraft reared up, flinging the two remaining soldiers off it and into the air. One came down on top of the Maultier.
And the second crashed down on the two dismounted SLDF officers, crushing them both beneath almost a ton of metal-clad infantryman. In a moment of mercy, Mundy and Lucas’s skulls bore the brunt and they died immediately.
Unaware that they’d just – entirely by accident – decapitated the SLDF, the rest of the Battle Armour squad dismounted from the second and better driven Savannah Master and opened fire on the Maultier as the passengers and crew bailed out.
Within seconds the fight was over and the remaining troopers remounted, leaving Jack Lucas’ body and the others where they lay.
.o0O0o.
FSS Tancredi, Nadir Point Batavia
Crucis March, Federated Suns
4 April 2780
Normally jumping a warship into a point known to be cluttered with an entire fleet of transports awaiting their dropships would be a ticket for relief with cause and a court martial. In Kenneth Jones’ view, the risks of this operation were already so high that such minor matters as the possibility of one of his squadron interpenetrating one of the jumpships was a mere trifle.
As it happened, the demon Murphy decided to withhold his wrath, no doubt intending to inflict some other disaster in the future, and the three warships jumped into the designated locations without accident.
Not without incident, of course. Their inbound jump signatures had been detected and the SLDF were hardly as insane as to leave over a hundred jumpships undefended here on the frontlines. Around the perimeter of the fleet dropships and warships must have gone to battle stations and alert fighters were vectoring in towards the intruders.
Shaking off the jump-shock with the practise of hardened veterans, the crews of FSS Tancredi and her escorts, FSS Katherine Davion and FSS Arthur Davion, began launching their own fighters and weapons lit up as ready to fire.
“All guns, engage targets of opportunity.” There had been no chance of drawing up a detailed fire plan so he had no choice but to rely on the initiative of the crews. “Launch screens!”
Around the squadron chaos ruled. The jumpships were military crewed but their commanders knew that their thin-skinned and fragile vessels – little more than jump drives with docking collars and small habitation spaces – had no business being in this sort of fight. Most cut their jump sails and brought up their K-F drives, knowing that their only hope was escape.
It would take time though and they had precious little of it. Jones saw a Star Lord hit by long-range missiles from one of the Tancredi’s anti-fighter turrets. The jumpship massed more than a quarter of a million tons and half a ton of missiles was far from enough to destroy it, but they tore open gaping holes in the hull and that hull was to a large extent the outer shell of the drive itself. In a brilliant blaze of light, the Star Lord jumped out… or half of it did. The distorted shape of the aft sections remained adrift, which said bad things about the likely fate of the other half.
Around them the armed escorts tried to target the Federated Suns warships. A reinforced squadron of twenty-four warships had been stationed in Batavia to escort XIX Corps for the attack on Markesan, but three of the four divisions of that squadron were escorting the corps’ dropships from Batavia out to the jump-point. They were deep inside the star’s gravity well and more than two days away under in-system drive. The remaining division was the heaviest in the squadron though – four McKenna-class battleships and a mismatched pair of heavy cruisers, supported by Pentagon-class dropships.
Normally that would have been enough to obliterate Jones’ command, but the orderly ranks of jumpships were now broken up by discarded jump sails and the debris. To this were added the screens – ten-ton capsules launched from the Tancredi in every direction. Each capsule launched electronic decoys, chaff and other obscurants that made it hard to pin down the exact location of the squadron’s ships. Wary of hitting their own ships, the battleships had to fire cautiously, if at all.
Unconstrained by this, the Tancredi turned slightly to present a less desirable target and picked out an Avatar-class cruiser. Electronic signatures matched the war book as SLS Kyoshi, a veteran of the fighting over Keid. The carrier’s starboard bow missile tube launched a single missile but as the ship continued to turn the port tube came into line and a second missile fired.
A Pentagon-class ship dived down to try to intercept the missiles. Weapons blazed away, in one case punching through the habitation decks of a luckless Invader-class jumpship, but missed the missiles. With self-sacrificial courage, the dropship managed to intercept the second missile with its own hull. The fifty-kiloton warhead almost vaporised the Pentagon and her crew.
Behind her the Kyoshi tried to evade, bow rising above the missile’s trajectory. But it was too late. The missile slipped beneath the cruiser’s blunt hose and then caught the vessel mid-ships, at the flight deck. Guts blown out, the heavy cruiser’s turn became a spin, debris scattering across the battlespace as lifeboats and escape pods began to evacuate the surviving crew.
Somewhere out in the mayhem, Jones knew that his fighters were fighting and, in some cases, dying. But he had no way to control them – radar and magnetics were entirely confused. The debris was beginning to impair jumps – it was hazardous to jump with unaccounted for mass inside the sphere of a K-F drive’s area of effect. The bubbles of energy that had formed around some of the departing jumpships were shaky and distorted, nerve-wracking to an experienced spacer.
The nearest battleship – he couldn’t even guess at its identity – lurched as autocannon from the two destroyers smashed into the marginally thinner forward hull plating. At this angle only a few of the massive ship’s weapons could fire back – although they did and the Katherine Davion leaked air where naval-grade lasers punched into her side. Two missiles launched from the wounded McKenna-class ship, trying to repay the death of the Kyoshi.
Unfortunately for that hope, the anti-missile turrets fitted to the two ships picked off both of the anti-shipping missiles before they could reach their targets.
A moment later the massed autocannon salvos penetrated the armour, explosive payloads ripping into control compartments and weapon systems. One of the forward autocannon batteries of the McKenna blew off, the great ship clearly out of control.
Not all of the news was so good and it was the Arthur Davion’s turn to stagger as one of the other battleships unmasked its broadside and opened up on the destroyer with twenty-four heavy particle beams – the captain had clearly decided collateral damage was no longer a concern. The much smaller warship wasn’t hit by everything but the shots that did hit carved away the armoured protection of her hull and wrecked three of her autocannon turrets.
The painfully bright detonations of nuclear weapons told of fighters reaching their targets. Whether the Centurions were engaging Pentagons or the other capital ships was hard to tell, but it wasn’t an immediate concern.
Turning to face the Kyoshi had left the Tancredi more or less nose on towards the McKenna that had just battered the Arthur Davion. The carrier added her autocannon and particle beams to the two destroyers’ fire, the Arthur rolling to direct fresh weapons at the enemy.
Their shots eradicated the distinctive cooling fins that gave the McKenna-class such a distinctive profile. The cooling systems located in them were vital in order to handle the massive heat of the battleship’s main battery.
Limping closer, the McKenna’s autocannon took up the slack – short-ranged but brutal weapons that broke the Arthur Davion in two, breaking the destroyer’s spine just forward of the engines.
Fire from the Katherine Davion and Tancredi poured onto the larger ship – the largest battleships ever built, a McKenna-class out massed both of them combined – but by keeping damaged hull sections forward, the battleship commander was cannily forcing them to hammer away only at the wreckage of systems that were already useless to him.
The guns spoke again and this time the Tancredi shook. One of her flight decks tore open, a rent in her hull a hundred metres long at least visible from the flag deck.
And then three little specks swung in behind the oncoming battleship.
Like drum beats, five kiloton detonations marched forward along the McKenna’s hull. The first obliterated her engines, the second shaved off half of her broadside particle beams and the third ripped through the grav decks and broke the mighty vessel in two.
“That was cutting it a little fine,” Jones noted grimly.
His aerospace control officer looked up. “We have confirmed kills on all six warships and twenty-one dropships, sir.”
Jones nodded grimly. “Finish off the rest of the jumpships – disabling ships if possible - and pick up our survivors. We’re on a schedule.”
Without lithium-fusion batteries that the SLDF used for newer ships to allow a second jump in succession, the two warships would have to survive in the system for a week before they could make good their escape, and eighteen vengeful warships would be in hot pursuit, led by none other than the SLS Richard Cameron, as soon as they’d escorted the fleet of dropships back to the safety of Batavia.
Jones didn’t know if Janos Grec had returned to take service again aboard his flagship from the Battle of Titan, but it was a formidable ship anyway. No, they had two days to build up a lead and then to lose themselves in the outer system for another five.
One thing was sure – until another fleet of jumpships could be assembled, XIX Corps was effectively blockaded on Batavia, unable to support the other Corps of Eighth Army as the AFFS attacked them.
It was, he hoped, worth the loss of a destroyer and most of the two hundred spacers aboard her.
-
It's a shame Mundy (and Lucas) had to go like that... Murphy is unforgiving sometimes.
Jones is still my favorite... I hope he lives to see a retirement of the non-medical variety...
Excellent as always!
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oh damn...Kerensky dead...that don't bode well and it seems that the Kuritans are going to pin this on the Steiners to get the Protectorate take revenge. Excellent updates, but a sad end for the General.
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RIP Kerensky,
I really had it pinned on Marik not Kurita as a way to takeover the remaining SL assets "Temporary" Of course due to the crisis.
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You have to wonder just how the chemical attack happened and why the Dracs think they won't get fingered - I'd expect Unity City to be crazy with CCTV cameras, security guards, etc.
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at this point the SLDF has to be so demoralized. Though to be honest I would start to think that the SLDF soldiers remaining are starting to think about jumping ship and siding with who they know. They all know that Davion is honest and the best of what is left now that Kerensky is gone.
-
Yeah, but how many are going to be forced to decide otherwise? The Steiner garrison would probably cross the border to the Rim, and the FS group probably split between the Hegemony and the FS or Pentagon worlds. I don't think the DC is much of an option at this point.
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I don't think there's any SLDF left in the DC. There is, I think some in the CC but, and maybe the FWL.
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I had pinned it on Steiner or Marik considering their hatred of Kerensky. I wonder why the Dracs did it.
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I don't think there's any SLDF left in the DC. There is, I think some in the CC but, and maybe the FWL.
I don't think there's much left in the FWL - haven't they been suborning them steadily?
It's the CC which has relied on the SLDF to offer support in action
It does sound as though the SLDF are going to feel less and less loyalty to a now-dead institution as what, apart from them, is left of a functional Star League?
Former loyalties like place of birth may start to assert themselves
-
Dormuth, Marik
Marik Commonwealth, Free Worlds League
10 April 2780
The ancestral homeworld of House Marik (if one didn’t count their long history in Terra’s Balkan region) was considerably closer to Terra than the Free Worlds League capital of Atreus. From the balcony where Carl Marik waited he could see man-made lakes, pit mines that had long since been flooded and turned into upcountry reservoirs, aquaculture farms and even water sports facilities. Marik’s mineral wealth had funded his ancestor’s rise to power but they had long since diversified their holdings.
Carl had seen the dropship coming in to land and knew it would be only a matter of time before his father arrived. Looking out at the peaceful landscape he wondered if he could hold onto the serenity of the view.
The sound of the door behind him opening drew his attention and he turned to see Kenyon Marik crossing the lounge to the floor-to-ceiling (and it was a high ceiling) windows that looked out onto the stone balcony and beyond it to the mountains.
The dark-hair and hawkish face reminded Carl of another and he swallowed. “Father,” he offered, raising one hand in greeting.
Kenyon opened the door and stepped out, making no comment on the cold wind. He looked tired from the hasty transit off Terra and out of the Hegemony, lines on his face muting the resemblance his son had noted. “Hello, Carl. Martinson told me you gave instructions I should be asked to come to see you immediately on my return.” He looked around. “Where’s your brother?”
Carl nodded. “I thought it best, sir. I have bad news. Thaddeus is in the morgue.”
“The morgue?” Kenyon frowned and stepped over to the balustrade, glanced over and then turned back to his son. “Who died? Not Margaret?”
“No sir.” He swallowed. “Thaddeus died.”
“Thaddeus?” He saw his father pause, a wall of cold composure snapping into place. But the next words gave a lie to that cool demeanour. “My Thaddeus? It can’t be.”
Stepping forward, the Captain-General’s elder – and now only – son, took his father’s shoulder. “We’ve lost him, sir.”
Kenyon turned away from the view, instinctively hiding his face from where anyone with a telescope or binoculars could look up at the palace and see him. “How did it happen?”
“His latest mistress appears to have been an agent.” Both of Kenyon’s sons had married early and fathered children to consolidate the lineage, for the family lines had been narrowed sharply after the civil war fifty years ago. It was an open secret that Thaddeus’ marriage to Margaret Hemphill had been to stabilise relations between House Marik and the wealthy rulers of Kalidasa, not out of personal fondness for all that she’d given House Marik three children in the last few years.
The older Marik closed his eyes for a moment. “Whose agent?”
“She hardly carried an identification card, sir, but we’ve confirmed she was genuinely from Restitution, up on the Canopian border, and left when she was younger. I’ve had SAFE dig into her personal history after she left in ’74 and her family history before then.”
“You think she’s a Canopian agent.”
Carl released his father’s shoulder and shrugged. “It seems likely, but we’ve no evidence.”
“Evidence!” Kenyon cried out. “You speak of evidence, Carl. Your brother is dead!”
“I want to know who did it.” He clenched his fists. “I want to know when I tell his children that he was avenged that I didn’t miss the real culprit.”
His father faltered and then nodded. “Yes. That is wise.” His eyes closed a moment and when he opened them there was a more familiar anger in them. “Terra did not go well.”
“I heard. John Davion’s launched a counter-offensive as well. Reports are too early to say how well he’s doing.”
“Kerensky is dead and so is Steiner’s sister.”
“I heard.”
Kenyon walked back to the open door. “Robert Steiner will be back in control of the Archon’s throne, which is good news for us. What will happen to the Rim Worlds I don’t know, but again, any result is good for us. They’ll be distracted and that leaves our flank there secure for now.”
“Barbara Liao did not attend, but it was not in her interests to leave us a free hand. Her joke of a military has been thrashed soundly by Davion and she cannot afford our anger. It is possible she is behind Thaddeus’ death but it leaves you and I to take revenge, poor strategy.”
“Agreed, and she has no real cause to seek Thaddeus’ death,” Carl pointed out. “Rwannah Centrella, on the other hand, has every reason.”
“I agree.” His father rubbed his chin and then gestured inside. “Come out of the wind, Carl. I want to sit down and shouting back and forth isn’t conducive to this conversation.”
They found seats inside and called for drinks. Carl ordered a vodka and lime juice. His father just ordered lime juice and then called the servant back and shocked them both by telling him to add half a finger of vodka to it. Kenyon Marik almost never drank and when he did it was the bare minimum of wine to be socially acceptable.
“Basic military strategy is to avoid a war on multiple fronts,” Kenyon said softly. “But politics and geography make that difficult. But still, we need to focus our attention. Assume that what you and I believe is true, then we must punish the Centrellas.”
“Can we afford to, if the Star League is coming apart?”
The Captain-General smiled thinly. “There’s no if, any more. Perhaps Davion was right all along. Perhaps I…” He rubbed his face. “If the SLDF had been better led perhaps. My grandfather should never have approved that damn peasant as the Commanding General and father should have accepted his resignation in ’51.”
“Could have, should have, didn’t,” Carl pointed out quietly. “We have to work with the situation as it is, not as it might have been. So, we have to send an expeditionary force to Canopus.”
“Yes. The Humphreys will likely scream that we should strike for Andurien though.”
“Could we do both?” The younger Marik considered a map. The two areas weren’t far apart.
Kenyon shook his head. “No. It’s at least possible they might find common cause. We can sell it to Humphreys though, the groundwork for Canopus can serve as well for us against Andurien when we’re ready. There’s a more urgent target.”
Carl considered the options. “Every other neighbour is weak,” he said judiciously. “Who do you mean?”
“The Hegemony.” The Captain-General folded his arms. “The most intact industrial worlds in their realm are Terra Firma province, bordering ourselves and the Capellans. And the Hegemony’s armed forces are even weaker than the Capellans right now. With Davion exhausted from fighting the SLDF, the Chancellor will want those factories and I see no reason to let her take them uncontested.”
“And no SLDF to guard them.”
“Yes, exactly.” Kenyon looked away. “Those industrial worlds to strengthen the League and revenge for Thaddeus. Take those both before our neighbours recover and we will have served House Marik well.”
.o0O0o.
Landing City, Bristol
Crucis March, Federated Suns
27 April 2780
Thomas Holt-Davion arrived at the meeting point first.
Well, to be strictly accurate his escort detail arrived first and spent fifteen minutes sweeping the area for mines, infiltrators and wild animals. They weren’t wild about the idea of a General being out ‘on his own’ on the hill over-looking Bristol’s first and oldest city, much less a member (if only by marriage) of the royal family. It was touching in a way that they were so concerned for his wellbeing.
Once his safety was assured, the troops pulled back to the perimeter to wait for their counterparts. Holt-Davion slumped into one of the folding camp-chairs he’d brought and, careful not to tear it with his spurs, put his feet up on another. Whose stupid idea had those been? he thought. Maybe I should set a fashion and stop wearing the damn things. He closed his eyes for a moment.
When the sound of an engine woke him, he consulted his watch and realised twenty minutes had passed.
The SLDF had arrived in a pair of what looked like civilian cars. Holt-Davion was willing to wager that under the glossy paint the chassis were wrapped in ferro-fibrous protection and that the engine under the hood would be military rated. There might even be a hidden weapon – they did love their toys.
Four troopers got out of the cars and threw polite salutes in his direction before carrying out the same sweeps his own soldiers had done. Rather than risk dozing off again, Holt-Davion reached into the case at the side of his seat and pulled out a local paper. He didn’t have much context for the contents but reading between the lines it seemed that life had gone on more or less as normal for the populace of Bristol despite the SLDF occupation. That was something of a relief given the alternatives.
The soldiers presumably came to the same conclusion his own escorts had: there was no elite commando team of racoons out to ambush anyone (not an entirely unfounded concern, Bristol racoons had six limbs and claws that would go through a flak vest if they were motivated) and the old folks could probably be allowed out without supervision for a little while.
The woman who left the first car and walked over to join him was in her fifties, Holt-Davion guessed. Thin – too thin really – and she moved like a MechWarrior. He rose and bowed to her. “General Krieger, I presume.”
She saluted him, which was technically correct given their relative ranks, and held it until he returned the gesture. “General Holt-Davion. We meet at last.”
“It’s pleasant to do so other than on the field of battle. Please,” he gestured to one of the camp chairs. “Take a seat. I have some bottled water in the cooler if you’d like some.”
“I brought my own in the car,” she replied, taking the offered seat and resting her hands on her knees. “Before we discuss anything further I have to ask you: did your father-in-law have anything to do with what happened at the Court of the Star League?”
Holt-Davion met her gaze steadily. “No, he did not.” He paused and then added: “We did have a team in Unity City to try to snatch Thomas Kurita. Two of them were in the room and didn’t make it out.”
Kreiger’s eyes bulged a little. “You were going to abduct the Coordinator’s cousin out of Unity City? How were they going to get him off Terra?”
“MI4 managed to get two of the Camerons clear, I think MI6 took it as a challenge.” He had no idea what the logistics would be, but the impact of such an operation succeeding would have been tremendous for morale. “Shall we get down to business?”
“I suppose so. We’ve consolidated our position now and can hold Landing City for months if need be.”
The young General eyed her and decided it wasn’t quite a pro forma statement but very close to one. “I believe that you could, although the civilian population would suffer if that were the case.”
She made a dismissive gesture. “We are willing to allow civilians to leave.”
“Gracious of you. I must wonder what it is that you feel you would be accomplishing in that case. The two divisions left to you holding into an emptying city might tie us down for a while, but as long as we hold the orbitals you won’t be escaping.”
“At least we’ll tie down your troops,” Krieger said tightly. A week ago, her XXV Corps had retained three of their original six divisions. Holt-Davion had landed his troops almost on top of the 157th BattleMech division, and between his own three divisions and two independent brigades he’d had ten ‘Mech regiments to their six. The outcome had been obvious, even if losses in the three heavy ‘Mech regiments on point had been higher than the General would have liked.
“I don’t object to my troops being tied down if it’s in the course of their assigned mission,” Holt-Davion told Krieger mildly. “We’re here to liberate Bristol from SLDF occupation and if that takes a few months then so be it. Given the shape of your navy, there won’t be a relief force any time soon.”
“General Lucas has four squadrons of warships, more ships than your entire navy.”
“He had four squadrons,” he told her mildly. “You lost two cruisers when we took out the picket force here, and that’s far from the only defeat our fleet’s handed yours in the last few weeks. For that matter, how much have you heard from your Commanding General lately? Marlette is back in Federated Suns hands, you know.”
“Do you expect me to surrender?”
“The option is on the table. If you choose to take it then we’re prepared to stipulate that your enlisted troops will be repatriated to the nation of their choice with all despatch – disarmed of course. Your colours will be treated with respect and delivered to Terra as soon as possible. Only officers will be detained.” Without a command structure and with the soldiers scattered across half the Inner Sphere, the two divisions would effectively cease to exist.
Krieger shook her head. “I have my duty, Marshal. It doesn’t including surrendering my position when it’s tenable to fight on.”
Holt-Davion nodded. “Who is your duty to, General? To the First Star Lord? Because there isn’t one. To the Star League Council, who to all practical purposes aren’t talking to each other? Or to your fellow soldiers?”
She didn’t answer him.
“I can’t tell you what is and what isn’t worth fighting for, but you might want to see how many of your soldiers are willing to die for what’s left of the Star League.”
Krieger pushed herself to her feet. “I think we’re done here.”
Holt-Davion also rose and bowed. “As you will, General. If you wish to talk again then please contact me through the same channels we used to arrange this meeting.”
She nodded and left. Holt-Davion waited for the cars to leave range and then walked over to his own transport, a Kynigos APC that had parked down the slope from the hill.
“Do you think she’ll change her mind?” asked his aide, a young leftenant fresh out of Albion.
Thomas considered the woman’s reactions and nodded. “I’d give it about a week,” he said judiciously. “She’s not the sort of officer who’ll sacrifice the lives of her men for a principle she knows is increasingly hollow.”
.o0O0o.
Somewhere
Somewhen
Hanse Davion found himself in a place and his inability to identify it as anything more bothered him. He appeared to be in a sphere of clarity surrounded by a white fog that glowed without giving off any warmth. Up, off in the distance, he saw a bright disc, a light, that looked to him like a sun seen through clouds.
He heard a voice and – with nothing else to do – he followed it. The words were unclear but the tone was one of confusion – whoever it was must feel very much as he did.
The clouds parted and he saw a short man facing away from him, wearing a white kimono and hakama in the style of the Draconis Combine. “Something is definitely not right here,” the man said to himself, not looking back.
“It’s unexpected, I’ll give you that.”
The man turned sharply and the sight of his face stole the breath from Hanse for a moment. “You look like my father,” Victor Steiner-Davion said, almost accusingly.
There were lines on his face that hadn’t been there, a square-jaw set with a hint of the explosive temper Hanse remembered. “And you look like my son, Victor. Plus a few years. Time goes on, I suppose.”
“It’s been more than six years.” Victor rubbed his chest, as if searching for something.
“Only six? It feels more like twenty to me.” What the hell is going on?
“Have you been waiting here for me?”
“No… I’ve been, somewhere else.” He met his son’s eyes. “I’m dead then?”
Victor nodded sharply. “Yeah. Don’t you remember? I got back to New Avalon and found you in your chair, watching that damned disc from Sun-Tzu.”
“Ah yes. I wasn’t quite sure what happened after that. It seemed likely I’d died but…”
“This isn’t the hereafter?”
Hanse narrowed his eyes. “Victor, do you have reason to believe that you’re dead?”
“Uh…” The boy… no, he was a man now, rubbed the back of his head. “I’d been stabbed through the chest.”
“We’d better hope we’re dead or your mother will kill us. How did you manage that?”
Victor flinched. “I was on Luthien for the new year. Apparently not everyone there was happy about our alliance against the Clans.”
“Didn’t you have security!?”
His son coloured. “Omi and I were alone. Or supposed to be.”
“You acquitted yourself well,” a harsh voice declared.
Both men turned and they saw a third watching them. He wore traditional Japanese armour, all in red. Two swords were at his side but he showed no inclination to draw them.
“Takashi.”
The thirtieth Coordinator of the Draconis Combine nodded sharply. “Hai. Your son is a credit to you, Davion. In my grand-daughter’s defence he slew two of the assassins with only a sword and the brief training my grandson gave him in the use of a katana.”
“Is Omi dead?” Victor asked urgently. “There was blood on her sleeves, I thought her wrists…”
Takashi laughed curtly. “She cut down the last of them. Kuritas also take a lot of killing.” His face sobered. “You died like a samurai, Victor Davion. Come with me now, to the afterlife of a samurai.”
“Hold on there,” Hanse told him bluntly. “Why should he do that?”
“He has passed on, Davion. No one can go back.”
“Really, because no one told me anything like that.”
The red-clad man bared his teeth in something like a smile. “That is your loss, Davion. You were a worthy adversary, I regret that your resting place is not to your liking.”
“Resting place? Who’s been resting?”
“What have you been doing?” asked Victor curiously.
“Trying to save the Star League,” Hanse told him. “I’ve been… well, haunting John Davion I suppose. I got to meet Jerome Blake, Aleksandr Kerensky… even Stefan Amaris and Minoru Kurita.”
“The great leaders of the time,” Takashi conceded. “Perhaps your afterlife is not entirely miserable.”
“They’re a bunch of squabbling idiots for the most part.” Hanse shook his head. “I guess whatever I’ve changed isn’t affecting you, Victor.”
“It sounds impressive. Seeing the Star League at its height but…” The blond shook his head. “I have things to do. I need to go back.”
“Other men must do those things now,” Takashi advised him. “One cannot go back.”
Hanse stepped between them. “Have you ever tried? You chose to end your life. Maybe it’s different for the rest of us.”
“One cannot wrestle with destiny.”
“If I’ve learned anything watching the League fall apart, there’s no fate or destiny. Just people doing their best – sometimes to screw everyone else up, but their best nonetheless. Aren’t there tales in your history of people cheating death?”
Takashi hesitated. “Yes, myths but…”
Victor reached into the throat of his kimono and pulled out a pendant. “Kai gave me this.”
“What is it?” Hanse squinted. It looked like some kind of monkey.
“Sun Hou-Tzu. He escaped from Yen-lo-Wang, the Chinese god of death. If this is real then he can lead me back to life.” Hanse’s son smiled slightly. “And if I’m just imagining this then I can imagine that.”
“No.” Takashi reached for the hilt of his sword. “You cannot…”
Hanse spread his arms to block the samurai. “Go ahead son, give your mother my love.”
Victor seemed on the brink of saying something and then his footsteps receded into the fog.
The two old rivals stood facing each other, Hanse fixing Takashi with a glare. At last the Coordinator released the katana and shook his head. “You may regret doing that.”
“Would you regret giving Theodore a second chance if it had been him?”
Takashi paused and then shrugged fractionally. “I have many regrets about my son but perhaps not that, no. There will be consequences though.”
“I can live with that. So to speak.”
“We’ll meet again, Davion.” Takashi Kurita turned and walked away in the opposite direction from Victor.
.o0O0o.
Avalon City, New Avalon
Crucis March, Federated Suns
5 May 2780
“Do you have dreams like that often?” John asked once Hanse had finished recounting his experience.
The redhead shook his head, “No, not like that. Mostly I dream of the past.”
“The past that was.” The First Prince rubbed his greying hair. “If we take it at face value then it would mean you’re dead.”
“I’ve had twenty years to get used to the idea. I can’t say I’m quite so happy about Victor dying, or nearly so, before he’s even thirty though.”
“Well to be fair, he could hardly have anticipated getting stabbed while on a diplomatic visit. It’s not as if he was challenging the leader of these Clans to single combat or something.”
Hanse grinned. “If he did that then he and I would have words.”
“The date might be significant,” said John, looking at the calendar. “Fifth of May.”
“Twenty years to the day since I woke up outside your bedroom, you mean.” Hanse shrugged. “I guess so. That would almost have to suggest something conscious guiding it since the rotation of Terra around Sol wouldn’t seem to have any natural relationship to the workings of the hereafter.”
“Well it can’t be relative to changes made since I can hardly see how yesterday was particularly significant compared to other events.”
Hanse nodded. “No ComStar, no looting of the Terran Hegemony - not yet anyway – and the Rim Worlds seems to be holding together even without Kerensky.”
“Yes… oh, perhaps that’s a factor actually.”
“Oh?” the ghost arched an eyebrow. “How so?”
“Aleksandr’s oldest son turned sixteen yesterday. It might just be a coincidence but…”
“It’s as plausible as anything else. Anyway, it’s not as if he’s in power yet, it seems they’ve settled on twenty-one as the minimum age before he’s recognised as Protector in more than name.” John smiled slightly. “It’s ironic that the same man Francesca set up to try to kill Amaris fourteen years ago is the Rim Worlds’ regent now.”
“He seems to have grown into his role as her counterpart,” Hanse observed. “Drummond might do well as regent.”
“At least he’s not off in the far reaches of the Periphery laying the foundations of a new society, so that’s averted.”
“And no ComStar!”
“For good or ill. Carving up the HPG network into national organisations seems to be the going trend but it’s going to make staying in touch with our agents trickier. Zabu Kurita’s already using that control to keep what’s going on inside the Combine from leaking out and Francesca says Marik is likely to do the same. Once that breaks we have to assume the Lyrans and the Capellans were doing the same.”
“In the long run we can live without close international communication,” Hanse pointed out. “We did so for centuries. Having all our interstellar communication, even domestic contacts, dependent on an outside conspiracy is a bit more of a problem.”
John shook his head. “Isn’t that also a situation that lasted for centuries?”
“Touché.” Hanse touched his chest in surrender of the point. “It may impact on Alpheratz being able to act as a centre of banking though. Even if we need somewhere neutral, the fact is that they’re out on the fringes of settled space. Terra did have some advantages with their central location.”
“We’ll have to see how it -” John was about to say ‘works out’ but a chime alerted him to an inbound message. He touched a control on his desk. “What is it, Owen?”
“I’m sorry to disturb you, sir, but we have a priority message from Wroxeter.”
“Wroxeter?” John exchanged looks with Hanse. “Alright, put it through.”
The screen built into his desk lit up, showing the spinning hourglass that was the traditional indicator that data was being loaded. “I wonder what Michael’s come up with,” the First Prince mused. Wroxeter was only one jump from Marlette and had been in SLDF hands for a year or so. While it had been bypassed in the initial counter-attacks, Michael Stopec had taken his Fourth Davion Guards division to clear it of the SLDF garrison once they’d finished off the main resistance around the SLDF headquarters on Marlette.
The face that came up on the video screen wasn’t the scarred and moustachioed face of the Prince’s Champion though. Instead it was Alexandra Davion’s face. “Uncle, I apologise for using priority codes but I felt that this was news that you would wish to hear as soon as possible,” her recorded voice greeted him.
“Shit,” Hanse said quietly.
“While the Guards are doing well in securing Wroxeter, I regret to advise you that the landing was quite heavily contested by SLDF aerospace assets,” Alexandra informed them. “Colonel Stopec and his staff were under escort by Pritchard’s Panzers in order to leave the main brigades free to concentrate on establishing a perimeter. Unfortunately, the SLDF seem to have picked out the Panzers for especial attention – either because they knew the Colonel was with them or because they’re ex-SLDF. The colonel’s ‘Mech was hit by several bombs and the cockpit was breached at least twice. I’m very sorry, sir, but medics have confirmed he was dead on arrival at the field medical station.”
John paused the recording and dropped his face into his hands. Hanse walked around the desk and rested his hands on his descendant’s shoulders, for all the good that did.
“How many more will we lose?” the First Prince asked sorrowfully. “How many men and women must I feed into the furnace for the others’ ambitions?”
Hanse considered platitudes but then dismissed them. “It doesn’t end, John. I wish it were otherwise. The most we can do is buy reprieves, a time between wars for a fresh generation to grow up and hopefully be wiser than we are.”
“The war is almost over, dammit. Dying so near to the finish of the campaign… so pointless”
“Not pointless, don’t demean it like that. You know damn well he had his guns firing up at the fighters dropping the bombs, protecting the people with him. And because he did that, some of them will live longer and be able to keep more of the people behind them alive.” Hanse stepped back as John turned around to face him. “It’s a tragic loss but it was not without meaning.”
The two men eyed each other and then John nodded tiredly. He activated the recording again.
“Brigadier Hewitt has taken over the division and I expect a formal report will reach you shortly,” Alexandra concluded. “If it’s any consolation, once our own aerospace had regrouped, not one of the enemy birds made it back home. We’re prepping his body for return to New Avalon per his recorded preferences. The duke made some noises about wanting to give him a state burial here but Hewitt straightened him out.”
-
Kingston, Beecher
Draconis March, Federated Suns
17 May 2780
Ethan Moreau was beginning to understand what had driven Amaris’ soldiers to such brutal measures to try to retain control of the Hegemony worlds they were occupying. Nuisance attacks – sometimes little more than noisemakers but sometimes snipers or improvised explosive devices – had kept his troops on edge for weeks. Since they’d treated the civilians well he didn’t think that the civilians of Kingston were responsible, or at least no more than the lunatic fringe which any world had.
But the civilians were there and the responsible parties weren’t, not obviously. Probably one or more of Davion’s MI6 teams, the young major general thought looking at the brown stains on the division’s banner. There was a creative malice to this that was in line with their nickname: the Rabid Foxes.
He turned and saw the anger in the eyes of the other personnel. “Well at least we know they give a shit,” he offered wryly. “Get this cleaned up and check the sentries, see if we can figure out how they got in.”
“Sir, we can’t let this go on,” Stephan Cage warned, almost trembling with rage. “We have to do something.”
“I’m open to rational suggestions.”
Part of the problem was that the Ninth Division was a BattleMech force, organised and optimised for offensive operations. The attitudes suited for the SLDF’s spearhead weren’t ideal for garrisoning hostile territory and Beecher was increasingly hostile towards the SLDF. Accustomed to quick and decisive actions, the troops were frustrated by the long and drawn out war of nerves.
The trouble was that they had nowhere to vent their frustrations. IX Corps was effectively marooned – they had dropships but their jumpships had been caught out by a carrier raid. Half had jumped out, not to be seen again, and the rest had been smashed alongside the five warships escorting them.
Cage folded his arms. “I’m not suggesting actual retaliation,” he said, “But if there was a civilian presence here then they might have to be more careful since they’d not want to risk hurting their people. It might cut back in the attacks that cause actual damage.”
“Are you suggesting we use civilians as human shields?” Ethan asked incredulously.
The major winced. “I hadn’t seen it in that light, but I suppose that I was.”
“Unless we treat them as confinees, we’d just be providing more open access,” Colonel Toriyama pointed out. “What would really put some heart in the men would be someone they can take the field against. Could we run an exercise against one of the other divisions – rotate brigade-sized forces out to the bush so they can batter at each other a bit and vent some of their bad temper?”
“That’s a more promising idea, but General Kaspar wants us on the bases, ready to embark on dropships immediately we get instructions from headquarters.”
“And when will that be, sir?”
“That, Major Cage, is the question, isn’t it?” Ethan turned away as two enlisted men lowered the banner from its flagpole and with expressions of distaste carried it off in the direction of the base laundry. “If we could scare up some jumpships then we might be able to head for Flushing to reinforce General Huong.” Seventh Army’s commander and LIII corps were known to be under attack by the AFFS, only one jump away, and there had been no HPG traffic for a week which suggested they needed reinforcements.
A chirp from Ethan’s left wrist alerted him to a message and he raised it to his mouth. “Moreau speaking.”
“General, this is Lieutenant French in the command centre. We’re getting a signal from the proximity point.”
Ethan raised his eyebrows. “A signal?”
“Yes sir. It’s encoded for your personal attention.”
“I’ll be there directly. Looks like we might have something, Stephan,” he told the major. “I’ll fill you all in if it turns out to be more than a false alarm.” With that, Ethan turned and hurried towards the command centre at a quick stride. The frustrations had been wearing on him as much as on anyone.
Inside the command centre all was tense silence, attention on the communications section. Ethan gave a withering look to those who should be hard at work, turning them away with shamed faces, and crossed to Lieutenant French. “Alright, what do you have?”
The young officer held out a noteputer. “There were three jump flares, sir. Large ships – with the sensors here I can’t be sure but as best I can tell, close to two megatons total. I’ve loaded the message here.”
Ethan activated the device’s security systems. “Well let’s see what they have.” The noteputer recorded his words and compared the voice print to that used to lock the message. After several seconds of chewing it over with its relatively puny processor it approved the match and unlocked the data.
The face that appeared on the screen was Hector Graham’s. His collar pins were still those of a Colonel in the HAF but there was a touch of grey at his temples that Ethan didn’t remember from Helen. “General Moreau, this is Colonel Graham. I’d hope you remember me. I’m here with three carriers to evacuate as many of the SLDF forces here as we can back to the Hegemony.”
A ripple of alarm went around the room and Ethan cursed himself for not taking the message in private. He’d been too eager for news.
Well, it was too late now. He paused the message and handed it to French. “Can you replay it on the main display?”
“Yes sir.” The lieutenant connected the noteputer to his station and the holographic projector in the centre of the room lit up, replaying the 2-D recording on four screens facing in the cardinal directions.
“General Moreau, this is Colonel Graham. I’d hope you remember me. I’m here with three carriers to evacuate as many of the SLDF forces here as we can back to the Hegemony. I don’t know how up to date your information is, but Commanding General Lucas is missing, General Huong of Seventh Army is confirmed as a prisoner of the AFFS and General Watanabe of Eighth Army is reported as killed in action.”
“General Museveni of Twelfth Army is therefore senior surviving officer of the active Army Group. Based on reported naval casualties, she’s asked for assistance extricating remaining SLDF units to worlds that can be defended. Orders to this effect have been issued to all commands. I regret to inform you that General Kaspar of IX Corps has declined to accept those orders as lawful.”
Graham paused. “I’ve attached documentation to confirm this, Ethan. I’m sorry to put you in a bad situation, but the rest of my news is no better. The Draconis Combine and the Free Worlds League are to all practical purposes withdrawn from the Star League. In the latter case, we’re even seeing troop movements towards the Hegemony border than look awfully like he’s preparing for military action. I don’t know what’s going on with the Rim Worlds Protectorate, the Archon has cut our communications to them, but we do know that the remaining volunteer divisions from the last war have been isolated and disarmed by the Lyran Commonwealth Armed Forces.”
“There are only twelve dropship collars available on my carriers but if you ferry equipment up we can store hardware on our cargo decks. If you prefer to stick with Kaspar here on Beecher I can’t force you to leave, but I swear to you, Ethan, there’s no other relief force coming. We’re your troops’ last chance.”
The message ended and Ethan swallowed, staring at the empty display. He looked around the room and saw expectant eyes. Ethan couldn’t think when he’d last felt this mortified. Maybe back on Kilarney when the FWLM decided to interrupt his graduation.
“Send the documentation he says is attached to my office,” he said quietly. “I think I’d better ask General Kaspar what he’s heard from Museveni.” He ignored the whispered conversations that broke out the moment his back was turned.
.o0O0o.
Summer Palace, Sian
Sian Commonality, Capellan Confederation
31 May 2780
Baltazar’s first thought on seeing his brother was despair at the sight of the wheelchair that Barnabas was sat in.
It must have shown on his face because the younger Liao waved his hand dismissively. “It’s not forever,” he promised. “Side-effect of the gas seems to have messed with my nervous system and I’m having to learn to walk again. It would just be embarrassing to fall down in public so I use this outside of my rooms.”
Sure enough, once they were welcomed into their mother’s parlour, Barnabas left the chair and walked – if unsteadily – across to the couch. He sighed as he sat down. “This is a pain.”
“If you listen to the doctor’s you’ll get over it,” Barbara Liao said, not looking up from the flimsies on her desk. “If you don’t listen to them then I’ll listen to them and I hope you’re not so foolish as to worry me like that.”
“No mother,” Barnabas promised in a put-upon tone.
Baltazar hid a smile. You always have to be in charge, mother. “I’m glad you made it back to Sian,” he said instead. “So many did not.”
His brother shrugged. “Luck that I wasn’t close to the centre and that my aides had the sense to let the Director-General’s guards hustle me away with him.” He paused. “I owe them my life.”
“It’s a debt I take seriously,” their mother said quietly. “And that may be very important in the next few days. I take it you know what the attack on the court means?”
“Someone’s actively working to tear down the Star League,” Barnabas said. “If it’s Davion, he’s shifted his goal slightly since he claims to be happy for us to maintain it without him. If it’s someone else…”
The elder brother leant on the couch. “I’m not sure about the ‘working to’ part of that. They may have succeeded.”
Barbara looked up and then nodded. “Yes, that nails it. Jennifer Steiner was actively working to restore some of what has been lost, but her loss and that of Kerensky essentially destroys the strongest advocates of the Star League. Kurita clearly doesn’t care a whit for it and Marik… well, Kerensky’s death might have eased some tensions but he’s really gone too far to back down now.” She lifted a stylus, tapped it against the flimsy on the top of the pile and then set it down without writing anything. “History may record John Davion’s victories over the SLDF in the last two months as the nail in the League’s coffin, but it was the attack on the court that was the last straw.”
Her sons exchanged looks. “I know we’ve been considering that as a possibility since Baptiste decided not to fight for the Star League,” Barnabas said, “But where does that leave us?”
“Strategically it leaves us in a very bad situation indeed.” Their mother rose to her feet and walked to the window, looking away from then. “Mattlov still holds the Terran regency and will for at least a year, which means we have an aggressive neighbour in that direction. We’re still at war with Davion on paper, even if there’s a ceasefire at the moment while we both recover. And then there’s Marik.”
“May I ask what he’s been doing?” asked Baltazar. “I’ve not been up to date on recent movements.”
“You know that he’d suborned four SLDF divisions and positioned them near Andurien,” she told him. “They’ve been reinforced and there are movements of ships and supplies. Given the insertion of officers from the FWLM into them, to all practical purposes he’s increased the Marik Militia and the Andurien Defenders by a third and they’re all stationed right on one of our most sensitive borders.”
“To make matters worse, there’s another shift in troop movements, at least a dozen regiments are headed for Augustine, right on our border. It seems that the Captain-General has decided that Robert Steiner is too ineffectual to pose a threat, so he can focus his attentions against us.”
“A Fourth Andurien War with a second front near the Hegemony.” The elder of the brothers shook his head. “We have fresh troops near those areas but we can’t respond effectively if we have to keep reserves against John Davion.”
“Is it possible we’re not the targets?” asked Barnabas. “Marik’s younger son was killed recently and the rumours on Terra said it was retaliation for his deep raid on Canopus. And as you say, Augustine is quite near the Terran Hegemony.”
“Possible, but we can’t assume this.” Barbara turned around. “I need you here because at this time I’m going to have to rely on your advice. My decision-making when it comes to John Davion has been… historically poor. The Maskirovka advise me that on balance he can usually be relied upon to keep his word, if only because his reputation for fair dealing is a significant asset in diplomacy. Tell me, if we were to offer him an armistice, could we count on him to keep it?”
Baltazar stood up straight. “An armistice? Would he accept such an offer?”
“If he does not then we’re no worse off.” She made a dismissive gesture. “Replacing the Star League’s remaining vestiges has caused disruptions his Ministry of Information are unlikely to have missed. He knows we are not in the best of positions but has had to focus his attention on destroying Lucas’ armies. We can recover as quickly as he can if we are undisturbed but that looks unlikely. So he will be bargaining from a position of some strength.”
His brother tapped his right thigh with the flat of his hand. “He declared he would secede and has pulled it off. He threw his support behind Kerensky when no one else would, at least not at the time,” he qualified quickly. “And while I was very young during the Border War, my understanding is that he sought mediation through the Star League and accepted it even when it was against his immediate interests. From what I know…” Barnabas looked up at their mother. “I agree with the Maskirovka. It seems likely that if we have a commitment from Davion then it will be kept to.”
“What terms can we reasonably expect to get?” asked Baltazar. “I mean, ideally the current situation and the return of Tikonov but I don’t think it’s very likely.”
“I must reluctantly agree,” the Chancellor said bleakly. “I would accept the border we held before the Star League but I doubt he will release Tikonov now that he has it. Realistically the industrial wealth of the system is simply too valuable. It will be up to you to negotiate, Baltazar. At most, I’ll only agree to giving up Tikonov if we also retain Demeter – it’s not equivalent but it straightens our border there and saves us some face.”
“I’m your negotiator?”
She nodded. “You’ve most experience with the Federated Suns and I trust you.” Taking the flimsy, she signed it briskly and held it out. “Your writ.”
Baltazar walked over and accepted the document. Reading it quickly he saw he had been appointed Ambassador Extraordinary to the Court of New Avalon.
“If it were necessary, Barnabas, I would send you back to Terra, but fortunately for your health I think our relations are still sufficient to negotiate by HPG,” Barbara told him. “But I will want your advice in handling Mattlov. You’re right that the forces on Augustine could be a threat to the Hegemony as well as ourselves. The Hegemony Armed Forces are likely to more or less double as they absorb remnants of the SLDF, they could be a very valuable ally.”
Baltazar folded the writ and glanced at his brother. “Do you think he’d go with it?”
“He’s a pilot,” Barnabas said wryly. “I think he’ll understand the value of having a wingman.”
“Good, that’s the sort of insight we’ll need.”
“There’s one good thing about going to war with the Free Worlds League,” noted Baltazar with a slight smile. “The navy will be ecstatic – we get to be the ones with the carriers fighting against big fat capital ships.”
“As a silver lining it’s not much, but I’ll take what I can get,” his mother declared.
-
I had pinned it on Steiner or Marik considering their hatred of Kerensky. I wonder why the Dracs did it.
Zabu is finally convinced the Star League is dead. He also knows cousin Thomas is on borrowed time after Robinson. That's makes it a good idea to just kill him themselves.
It's not necessarily less of a black eye compared to waiting until the FS caught up to him. But at least this way they got to pick who else died with him.
-
And Kerensky was the only one who could rally the SLDF...
-
Now its a case of waiting and seeing. The Kuritans are in essence out of the fight, so's the SLDF with them having to pull back or risk seeing the hegemony get gobbled up in a feeding Frenzy.
This leaves House Steiner as really the main power left. The Davions are too battered to do much but rebuild and recover. The Kuritans military is badly hurt and needs rebuilding, the Confederations military's seemingly gutted and unable to strike across its border. With those three basically spent, House Steiner's probably in the best position, but something tells me they'll get the blame for the attack on the Court and I doubt the Protectorate is going to need much of an excuse to avenge the death of Kerensky.
-
May 3780?
-
I don't think the Lyrans will get the blame for the attack on the court, but yes, Robert will cause plenty of damage, especially once the Kuritans assassinate his brother.
And I have to wonder if Takashi is talking to Zabu now...
-
And I have to wonder if Takashi is talking to Zabu now...
That would be remarkably bad, because that would imply that Mad Max, not Spectral Sun-Tzu, is advising the Liaos of this era.
-
Is Katrina Steiner (the real one, not Hanse's daughter) advising anyone?
What about Ulric Kerensky?
-
Hopefully Blake is writing Waterly off as nothing but a bad dream...
-
Or could it be the master advising Blake. >:D :brew: :laughing_skull:
-
Wouldn't be Waterly anyway, not a blood relative.
And I think Natasha Kerensky would be a funnier ghost for Alex/Nicholas rather than Ulric, even if he would be more useful.
-
Oh god, could you imagine Natasha haunting Aleksandr Kerensky?
-
Or could it be the master advising Blake. >:D :brew: :laughing_skull:
Worse: the Master is advising his blood ancestors...
-
And I think Natasha Kerensky would be a funnier ghost for Alex/Nicholas rather than Ulric, even if he would be more useful.
If so he might be better off
-
May 3780?
You saw.... nozzzing! Nozzzing! ;)
-
Avalon City, New Avalon
Crucis March, Federated Suns
4 June 2780
The central table of the command centre was crowded with officers and a select handful of civil officials. If it weren’t for a few key absences, some of them strategic to ensure that no assassin managed to decapitate the Federated Suns, then their entire senior leadership would be here.
The end that wasn’t crowded was the space around John’s seat. He pulled it back and sat down as normal, checked the coffee and glanced around with a little smile calculated to convey ‘yes, it’s business as usual, even today’,
“Alright people,” he told them. “We’ve got a lot to get through so let’s settle down and make a start. Francesca, give us a big picture.”
The Minister of Information didn’t stand but she activated the central holo-projector, bringing up and overview of the Star League… of the Inner Sphere and the Periphery. They’d have to get used to calling it that.
“From furthest to nearest, sir,” Francesca Reznick began. “We’ve had confirmation of clashes along the Rim-Lyran border. Most of them seem to be the result of SLDF convoys trying to take sanctuary inside the Protectorate – even without General Kerensky himself, there are still people who feel that his family and supporters will shelter them. To a lesser extent there’s even been a small level of civilian movement. Lyran commanders along the border seem confident that Robert Steiner will approve of them giving chase into Protectorate space and our sources suggest they’re right.”
“The best thing he could have done for the Commonwealth would have been to die and he couldn’t even get that right,” Eis Moscoe commented, just loud enough to be overheard.
“I wouldn’t go quite that far, Eis.” John leant back in his chair. “Without Jennifer Steiner, the post of Archon would fall either to their brother Paul or to Jennifer’s son Richard who’s… eleven?”
“Eleven next month,” Reznick told him. “It’s hard to say whether he or his uncle would be less politically prepared at this point. Paul Steiner’s a capable military commander but he’s signed off on the administrative mess that the LCAF are facing at the moment.”
“So maybe the second-best thing Robert could have done would be to die,” Hanse murmured from behind John.
“In addition, the Lyrans have had to deal with repeated border incidents in Tamar and Skye.” Reznick brought up markers along the Lyran-Draconian border. Coordinator Kurita isn’t even responding to diplomatic approaches, much less denying that the DCMS are raiding Lyran bases. Actually, it’s becoming quite difficult to get information out of the Combine at all – they’ve imposed very tight controls over HPG communication. Without General Pond’s help in arranging channels of communication we’d have very little data to work on.”
Reuben Sandoval leant forwards. “Does that mean the Combine is going to be focused on the Lyrans rather than us in the near future?” he asked. Although not yet confirmed into any official role, he’d been allowed to attend this meeting while the actual Minister and Marshal of the Draconis March were elsewhere.
Reznick pursed her lips. “If by near future you mean twelve to eighteen months, then yes. Beyond that I wouldn’t be prepared to commit. Our data from the Commonwealth suggests that the DCMS is making a point of capturing military supplies and equipment wherever possible which suggests they’re trying to make this… low intensity warfare, if you will, supply the rebuilding of their forces. And, of course, we’re not at peace with them. If the Archon escalates the situation then it seems unlikely Zabu Kurita would risk war on two fronts but that depends on Robert Steiner’s judgement, which has been erratic even before his stroke.”
“Thank you, Minister.” Sandoval nodded gratefully to her.
“If it comes to operations, the DCA has almost eighty warships including those seized from the SLDF but they’re struggling to maintain them and something like thirty of them are only capable of limited operations. From a height of one hundred and thirty-eight divisions they’re currently claiming one hundred and twenty-five but that’s mostly symbolic – a multiple of five – and twenty-eight of them have only token BattleMech and armour forces, with infantry drawn from militia units.”
“Moving on to the Free Worlds League, there’s a certain ominous silence – no military clashes of significance so far but there are some very serious concentrations of military shipping and regiments at both ends of the Capellan border. The Captain-General is playing matters very close to his chest, which may be more to do with his Parliament than it is foreign intelligence services.”
Joel Parks adjusted his glasses fussily. “Is there any likelihood that the Parliament will rein Lord Marik in?”
“Very unlikely,” John told him. “House Humphreys and House Allison are both in favour of military action against the Capellans, and he keeps a tight hand over his own province so that’s three of the four major provinces united in favour of his policies and moulding public opinion accordingly. As Council Lord, House Marik have had some of the powers of the Captain-Generalcy even in peacetime but Parliament formally voted him the usual two-year term in ’77 and renewed it last year. If he starts a war before the end of his second term it’s unlikely they’ll want to switch horses.”
“I’ve never seen the point in that two-year term business,” muttered Moscoe. “It ties military action too closely to politics in the capital. It comes up time and again in their history.”
“If it works out to our advantage, why should we complain?” John shrugged. He heard Hanse shift and then nodded. “Of course, if Lord Marik does seek to adjust his constitutional limits we’re looking at options to arrange… internal opposition for him. Not usually something the League needs help with but why take a chance?”
Reznick shifted the map to display the Capellan Confederation but looked over at her military counterpart. “Marshal Pond, I believe your department has just finished an update on Capellan capabilities so perhaps you should discuss the next part.”
The head of Military Intelligence nodded. “Of course, Minister Reznick. Thank you.” He lifted a pointer. “We’ve been taking a close look into Capellan losses in the two theatres of combat. They’ve been careful not to disband any formations, even though those that were in shreds when they were withdrawn. We’re currently estimating that as many as thirty of their regiments are still in need of extensive rebuilding, with losses made up – if at all – with drafts on their Home Guard units, which were already under strain, and former SLDF personnel. On paper they’re claiming around a hundred and thirty regiments including forces raised around defectors, but at best their ground forces are probably at around eighty percent capability on average. Some of the weaker units were rotated to face the Free Worlds League in order to free up intact forces to face us but with the situation as it is, that may be backfiring.”
“And we know they’re down to only forty-three warships,” added Rike Moore. The serving head of the FSN grinned toothily. “Too many ships lost at Kathil and Galax, and the destruction of the Capella shipyards has cut them badly. Forty-three of their own, that is. I imagine at least some of the Star League’s ships have majority Capellan crews.”
“Quite a number, unfortunately. It’s too early to say for sure but we know Chancellor Liao purchased a number of Carrack armed transports to convert into carriers and we believe she’s also been securing older corvettes that can be maintained by civilian yards. I think we have to assume other ships, including heavier ships, will be willing to enter her employment.”
“Should we look at raiding those?” asked Moscoe. “I know you’re stretched,” he added with an apologetic look at Moore, “But if the Combine could be coming back at us then we could live without a strong Capellan navy.”
“There are two reasons I’m opposed to that.” John leant forwards. “Firstly, if the Confederation collapses, we’d have Marik on the border. I’d rather a weak Capellan neighbour than a strong Free Worlds League next to us.”
He saw nods around the room.
“And secondly, Chancellor Liao has approached us to negotiate an armistice.” He paused to let that sink in. “We’ll continue to watch the Capellans and if hostilities resume then those yards will be priority targets, but at the moment we could do with some time to catch our breath as well.”
Parks raised an eyebrow. “Is there any likelihood that the armistice will open up trade with the Confederation?” he asked hopefully. “That could be beneficial.”
”I’m not sure at this point, but I will raise the possibility.”
“More work for the Minister and I if there is,” Pond noted. “But that’s what we’re paid for. I don’t have anything to add about the Capellans.”
Reznick nodded. “The Canopians are also concerned about the Free Worlds League’s movements – Andurien is very near to them after all. While their military forces aren’t spectacular we know that a small number of SLDF regiments and even four warships have entered Canopian service. They’ve sent negotiators to Alpheratz to try to pick up mercenary contracts as well – I believe the Pentagon League may be looking at contracting out a brigade of soldiers for Canopian service.”
“Pentagon regular soldiers?” asked Moscoe in surprise.
“Not all the SLDF soldiers who sided with DeChevilier have settled in. If he can let them go back to war on someone else’s paycheque, that’s probably in his best interests,” the Minister of Information explained. “A safety valve for soldiers who can’t adjust to peacetime.”
“Not a problem most of us have to worry about,” John observed. “How about the Taurians?”
“Quiet and prickly,” Reznick told him. “But right now, no one seems interested in invading them so they’re as close to content as they can expect. The Outworlds Alliance, on the other hand, is watching the Draconis Combine very cautiously. An entire squadron of the Pentagon League’s warships are patrolling that border. The Outworlders may not like BattleMechs but warships seem to be out of sight, out of mind as far as their conservative factions are concerned.”
“That brings us to the Terran Hegemony. It’s been confirmed that James McEvedy is on the road to recovery, but it will be six to eight months before he’s able to leave a hospital dead. To all practical purposes, Daniel Mattlov is effectively Director-General until then. Our read is that he’ll hand power back, which should have a stabilising effect.”
“Is the same expected in the Rim Worlds?” asked Sandoval thoughtfully. “Drummond’s ex-RWA, isn’t he?”
“We have an extensive file on Philip Drummond,” Reznick replied. “He’s not without ambition but the Kerensky name carries considerable weight. Our expectation is that he might step in if he feels that neither Nicholas nor Andery Kerensky is fit to rule, but there would be political issues in that case and he doesn’t seem eager to cause new problems given he’s got quite a few on his plate already. Whether he’ll still feel that way in five years – General Kerensky set twenty-one as the age of majority – is hard to say.”
Pond cleared his throat. “Including the units of General Lucas’ army group that escaped there, we believe that Mattlov will be adding twenty-two divisions to the Hegemony Armed Forces. Given they had a hundred short brigades - about two regiments each - that’s more than doubling his available forces. And there are at least a hundred SLDF warships that have been operating out of his shipyards, with at least that many repairable ships left from the liberation campaigns that simply haven’t been fixed up yet. That’s the strongest naval force anyone has at this point, potentially twice the size of the Lyran navy if he can get the ships repaired.”
“And like the Combine and the Confederation they’re shifting towards carrier operations in imitation of ours,” Moore noted. “From your reports, they’re refitting Sovetskii Soyuz-class cruisers into carriers, the Kerensky-class they’re calling them and the initial plan was for forty of them split between SLDF and HAF but now the Hegemony will have them all. They might not be a match for our carriers one on one, but once they complete all forty they’ll have more carriers than we do.”
John nodded. “Now that we’ve reclaimed the worlds occupied by the SLDF there’s no need for us to move further and hopefully we can come to terms with Mattlov and McEvedy. They’re surrounded on all sides so alliances will be critical for them.”
He looked around. “Alright, that summarises the other states. How do we stand? Rike, the navy?”
“Including the SLDF ships who’ve taken refuge with us, we have ninety-seven warships in service and six further ships under construction. Sixteen of the active ships are fleet carriers – two Brandts and the rest New Syrtis-class. Half the ships being built are also New Syrtis-class.” She consulted her noteputer. “We’re looking at a twelve month break in laying down new ships once the current vessels are completed – we’ve been refitting ships as we get the chance but a systematic upgrade cycle is going to be needed to make sure we have the new defensive systems on all our ships.”
Parks coughed. “And I understand you’re looking to expand the… combat dropship arm of the fleet?”
“We’re looking at options but we need more platforms to act as escorts for the carrier groups.” Moore grinned slightly. “Still in the design phases, we’ll not be hitting your budget to actually buy them until 2783 at the earliest.”
“A slight relief,” the Minister of Ways and Means observed tersely. “It seems the budget will need to remain on a wartime footing.”
“Unless we can secure a solid peace with the Draconis Combine, which seems unlikely as long as the Coordinator prefers to keep his realm an enigma, then we have to assume fighting could resume at any time. It’s going to hurt the economy,” John admitted, “But not as badly as seeing more worlds savaged the way Robinson was.”
The room stilled at the mention of the Draconis March capital. Only Parks seemed unmoved, nodding in cool assessment. “To be avoided, I agree.”
“Our ground forces aren’t in terrible shape,” offered Moscoe. “We’ve disbanded fifty-eight BattleMech regiments but that’s let us keep the rest in solid shape and with the addition of former SLDF units and mercenaries, we have a hundred divisions in service.”
“For comparison, how many BattleMech regiments do we have?” asked the Minister of Education.
“Counting all units available for interstellar deployments - the March Militia divisions and private contractors, but not planetary guards – two hundred and seventeen, with most of them at ninety-percent or more of their notional strength.” Moscoe smiled slightly. “Without the SLDF, that's the largest army in the Inner Sphere, more than a match for anyone.”
John sat back in his chair. “Then it’s safe to say that we’ve weathered the storm of our secession.”
“We won,” agreed Pond. “We survived and the Star League didn’t.”
“The latter wasn’t the goal.” John exhaled slowly. “But yes. Now we have to plan for an era with no Star League. Without a central government, communications and trade with those states we don’t border are going to be problematic. It’ll take more than military might to get through the next few years, we need to keep our economy going and we can’t afford to stay closed off to the rest of the Inner Sphere. We’ll also need to keep expanding our research and development since we can’t just leach off the Star League for advancement any more...”
-
It had been twenty years since John saw the buildings, but the dream had been so vivid that he recognised them nonetheless – a sprawling campus of buildings, half a dozen colleges of sciences both hard and soft wrapped around the core of the New Avalon Military Academy.
There was no New Avalon Institute of Science in his time though – the expansions of NAMA had had to be for more war-like means such as training the huge numbers of pilots needed for the Federated Suns Navy. There would be colleges though, and institutes of science, built elsewhere and in many cases staffed by refugees from other realms.
But what John saw now wasn’t the peaceful image he’d seen when he first met Hanse all these years ago.
This was a battlefield, the parklands separating the school from city and palace torn by weapons fire and stray munitions.
The aggressors, firing into the buildings and trampling the facilities underfoot, were black-painted BattleMechs. For a moment he thought of the Otomo but these were trimmed in green and bore a death’s head insignia upon their chests. Some of the designs were familiar, others were not. John estimated their numbers as perhaps a battalion but as ‘Mechs fell, others came to replace them without end.
And the ‘Mechs did fall, for the Institute had a defender: a lone Battlemaster assault ‘Mech, painted in the familiar red, white and blue of the Davion Guards. The MechWarrior within fought like a titan… but he was alone.
“What is happening?”
“War is happening,” a quiet voice told him. Turning, John saw a broad-shouldered man in a MechWarrior’s shorts and vest. “One of the few wars that really matter.”
John met his gaze – there was something familiar about the shape of the other man’s face. It took him a moment to realise that it reminded him of Hanse – the hair was darker, more brown than red, and the eyes had less of the quick wit and a more steadfast look to them. “Not one between nations then.”
“No. One between those who see knowledge as power – and therefore seek to control it – and those who view it as wealth and seek to multiply it.” The other man reached over and patted John’s shoulder. “You’ve contributed to that struggle, and I believe you’ve made a difference for the right side. Or my side, which I take to be the same.”
“Are you… one of Hanse’s sons?”
That got a bark of laughter. “Sons? No. Good guess though. He’s my little brother.” Ian Davion ran his hand back through his short hair. “I’m not saying he’s the one that got all the brains, but some people did say that.”
“Aren’t you dead?”
“Does it matter?”
John turned back to the battle being fought before them. “Given the last twenty years, I suppose not. Can we do anything? He’s fighting alone out there.”
“No, he isn’t. He just believes that.” The other Davion shrugged. “Egotism runs in our family, I’m sorry to say. But sure. Let’s remind him that he’s not the only one who gets to stand up for something.” He reached out and pulled a neurohelmet out of thin air. It was a massive thing, far larger than those John was used to. “Mount up.”
“How?”
“Like this.” John wasn’t sure if the other man grew as he pulled the helmet on, or if he was simply replaced but in a moment of transition he was no longer standing at the side of a man. Instead, a BattleMech rose up above him like an ancient god of war, bull-shouldered and with a grinning skull-like face: an Atlas that bore the same colours as Hanse’s Battlemaster.
“That isn’t helpful!” John shouted up. “That tells me nothing!”
The ‘Mech strode forward, heedless of him, tearing into the smaller black and green BattleMechs with a blithe disregard for their weapons fire that reflected the Atlas’ reputation for near invulnerability.
“Dammit.” John extended his hands as he’d seen Ian do. Nothing.
What was the key, what did he need to do? The prince screwed his eyes closed. If this was a dream, was logic even a factor? How could he…?
He felt something round and solid between his hands. His neurohelmet. Without opening his eyes, John raised it and pushed it down over his head, fingers automatically buckling the chinstrap. Releasing it, he reached out and with no surprise found the joysticks of his cockpit. Snapping his eyes open he saw the familiar interior of his Cyclops: reactor hot, weapons live, ready for battle.
Ahead of him, two Davions were already fighting.
Driving his feet down on the pedals, John put his ‘Mech into motion and joined the battle. Unlike the other two, he didn’t plunge into the midst of the enemy, instead using the range of his gauss rifle and LRMs to single out vulnerable targets.
His first target was a Phoenix Hawk trying to work its way around the flank of Hanse’s Battlemaster. John’s gauss rifle shot caught it in the back, ripping through the right torso and severing the connections to the medium ‘Mech’s right arm. The limb, carrying most of the ‘Mech’s weapons, went flying.
His next target was an unfamiliar design. The right arm was a PPC and a laser was mounted off-centre in the head. The ‘Mech tried to close in after John hammered it with missiles and another shot from his gauss rifle. Raising the Cyclops’ arms, the prince slashed through the remaining armour across the smaller ‘Mech’s chest, damaging a missile launcher and then fired his SRMs. They corkscrewed across the space between them and one found the ruined launcher’s ammunition feeds. A chain of explosions gutted the ‘Mech.
LRMs crashed down onto John and he twisted, taking it on his armour. It was fortunate he was in a Royal Cyclops – the standard model might not have been able to shrug off the salvo. The battle computer traced the arc and highlighted a Catapult as the source.
John’s return fire cratered armour and locked one of the Catapult’s boxy missile launchers onto a fixed bearing – although it didn’t prevent it from firing again since another thirty missiles volleyed forth at him. Raising his ‘Mech’s arm to shield his cockpit, he fired back again, this time the gauss rifle hitting squarely on the Catapult’s pointed nose.
The bird-like ‘Mech staggered and John moved closer, unleashing everything he had as soon as he reached two hundred and fifty metres. The Catapult’s final LRM volley went soaring wildly up into the night sky as John’s shots smashed through the hip joints, severing both legs and dropping what was left of the ‘Mech to the ground.
Turning back to his kinsmen, John saw Hanse swinging the severed arm of a Shadow Hawk to crush the cockpit of a Panther. Ian’s Atlas was facing off against a towering Stalker, the two titanic ‘Mechs exchanging everything they had at point blank ranges.
Seeing an Ostroc moving up on Hanse’s flank, John snap fired his gauss rifle and the shot tore the heavy ‘Mech’s cockpit apart.
No longer concerned by the Ostroc, Hanse combined fire with his brother and the two tore the Stalker apart in short order.
John looked for another target but found none. He was sure they hadn’t destroyed an entire battalion of the enemy in such short order, but his sensors picked up nothing.
“Ian, you’ve got some ‘splaining to do,” Hanse called as his Battlemaster stood still, boiling coolant trickling from rents in his armour.
The other MechWarrior laughed lightly. “Sure, little brother. But not here. It’s time for us to move on.”
“Move on?”
“You didn’t think this was everything, did you?”
The Battlemaster folded its arms and suddenly the three Davions stood between their ‘Mechs, Hanse in very much that pose. “It’s kind of hard to tell.”
Ian shrugged. “Trust me, it’s not. You’ve done well. Both of you have done well.” He offered his hand to John. “Whatever happens next, your history is unlikely to sink into the same dark age that the two of us grew up in. Or at least, not in your lifetime. Thank you for that.”
“If Hanse hadn’t been there I’d have contributed to it.” John accepted the hand though and they shook briskly.
“You didn’t have to listen to him. Whatever happens next, you’ve made a difference. Now you get to find out what happens next.”
“What does happen next – for Hanse?”
The two brothers exchanged looks. “One day you’ll find out,” Hanse promised. “No one lives forever. But for now…”
.o0O0o.
Avalon City, New Avalon
Crucis March, Federated Suns
5 June 2780
John Davion sat up in the darkness of his bedroom. Beside him, Edwina grunted and rolled over to face towards him. He made soothing noises and pulled the covers back up over his wife.
The clock blinked at him, announcing it was still in the small hours of the morning. Slipping out of his bed he crossed to the antechamber and donned a dressing gown.
“Is something wrong, sire?” asked the guard as John left the family apartment.
“I just couldn’t sleep.”
He checked the little bedroom behind his office and then the lounge where he’d spent so much time talking to Hanse and listening to those operas the ghost enjoyed. There was no sign of him.
Was he gone? Turning to the window, John stared out at the lights of the city below. “Hanse,” he murmured and then bit back anything more. It was going to have to remain a secret either way. A little eccentricity might be ignored in a First Prince, but there were limits. His lips curled at the idea of how the media would react at the idea that the last two decades’ decision-making had been guided by a voice only John could hear.
Turning back, John went back to the family apartments and paused as he saw the night nurse’s door was open. Looking through it he saw the woman pacing back and forth, holding his granddaughter. “Did I disturb you, sire?” the nurse asked apologetically. “The little princess was restless.”
“No, I was just restless myself.” He extended his hands. “Here, I’ll take her.”
She gave him a doubtful look but let him take Victoria out of her arms and cradle her in his own. The baby’s eyes widened for a moment and tiny fingers latched onto the lapel of his dressing gown. She gurgled triumphantly and her eyes closed again, a cherub’s smile on her face.
Prince and nurse exchanged amused looks. “I do have a little parenting experience,” he reminded her in a low voice.
The woman nodded. “Of course, sir.” She opened her bag and pulled out a small stuffed toy, a fox with a comically exaggerated head. “If she’s fretful, this helps.”
A fox? How utterly appropriate, John thought. And then he made for an armchair to wait for the dawn, the future in his arms.
.o0O0o.
Colossus, New Rhodes III
New Rhodes Province, Terran Hegemony
8 August 2839
Just deciding where the meeting would take place had been the topic of intense discussion by the diplomatic core. Terra was, for various reasons, for various reasons unacceptable and by extension this also ruled out the other capitals.
While it would have been most practical, geographically, to gather in the Federated Suns this was seen as ceding too much to what was already the most powerful of the represented nations. Rumour had it that Demeter had been considered, but not offered, by the Chancellor in case it was considered insulting to the Federated Suns to bring up the one world that the Capellan Confederation had secured in the peace terms that had settled the Second Secession War (as historians had belatedly dubbed it – Victoria Davion was perfectly aware that it had no more been called that at the time than the drubbing the SLDF gave the periphery states a decade before had been known as the First Secession War).
Truthfully, she wouldn’t have cared one way or the other about meeting on Demeter itself. While it had been lost, the gain of Tikonov had objectively more than off-set that. Capellan controlled space was still something her advisors were cautious of, so when New Rhodes III was proposed she’d agreed immediately – her grandfather’s old headquarters from when he and the legendary Generals Kerensky and DeChevilier had waged war upon the Usurper?
Then again, she hadn’t known about the statues.
“It’s been a while but I’m fairly sure my grandfather wasn’t thirty feet tall,” Kristina DeChevilier observed drily from where they stood looking at the three statues that stood, back to back, in the gardens outside what was now the Palace of Government. The monument was called ‘the Colossi’ – a classical reference that had given its name to the city that had grown up around what had once been a minor military headquarters, then a government office and now the centre of administration for a large swathe of the Terran Hegemony.
Victoria chuckled. “No, nor was mine. I suppose it’s not a bad likeness otherwise.”
There were armed guards around the edges of the formal garden to ensure that they weren’t mobbed, and a small honour guard of BattleMechs stood at each corner. If they got involved then things would get messy, and not just because each corner had one ‘Mech from each of the attending states.
The two women walked back inside. The brief recess for people to use restrooms and for the servants to replenish the cabinets of refreshments was almost done. The meeting room was as much ceremonial as practical, with a marble floor and a huge table made from a single slice through the trunk of a tree, one that had been carefully grown to take the shape of the Terran Hegemony – the Hegemony of the Star League’s era rather than its current borders, anyway.
Gregor Raventhir, representing the Free Canopian Worlds, was already seated and the Director-General took her place next to him as the pair entered. She was a few years older than they were, an old… not enemy but not quite friend. Negotiations between the Suns and the Hegemony had sometimes been adversarial in Victoria’s lifetime but for the most part they’d avoided acrimony.
Victoria took her place across the table from them and gestured for a fresh cup of coffee.
“Did you enjoy the gardens?” Sarah McEvedy asked.
“There’s an old saying about standing on the shoulders of giants,” the First Prince replied quietly. “I’d always seen my grandfather as larger than life, but perhaps not as large as a ‘Mech.”
McEvedy smirked slightly. “And Kerensky?”
DeChevilier sighed. “I get the feeling that if he were still alive that he’d put his brats over his knees and spank the shit out of them.”
“That’s a lot of shit,” came a gruff voice from the door and David Avellar limped into the room, leaning on his cane. “How long have you had diplomats in the Rim Worlds?”
“Twelve years,” she admitted wearily. “Neither seems interested in talking.”
“Unlike his uncle Robert, Ross Steiner is no fool,” the Director-General observed. “If the Lyrans posed an outside threat it would give the Kerenskys a common enemy to band together against. But while he steps back – and perhaps has LIC stir the pot – the two of them neutralise any threat to the outer edges of the Lyran Commonwealth and he can focus on his other borders.”
The arrival of Baltazar Liao, the other old man at the table, and Trudi Calderon allowed them to resume the formal discussion.
“Whatever we may say here,” the young Protector of the Taurian Concordat pointed out, “Our people won’t agree to a new Star League. Not under that name or under that organisation. I appreciate that the proposals so far are very firm on avoiding a situation of long term territorial states, but the name itself is odious to my people.”
“That’s understood,” Victoria agreed. “We may take lessons from the Star League as to what worked and what didn’t, but the name should be different if only to underline that we’re something new and distinct from that.”
“Let’s also avoid taking any name too closely associated with any one member state,” offered Avellar sardonically. “Besides accusations of preference, it causes confusion.”
“Well, what do you suggest? We’re not going to be creating a republic and none of us want this to be an empire.”
“Are we really going to quibble over what we’re calling this alliance?” asked DeChevilier.
“It’s politically important,” Calderon pointed out.
Raventhir leant forwards. “If we’re looking back at history, how about ‘United Nations’? It was a partial world government before the Terran Alliance superseded it during the twenty-first century.”
The other six looked around the table and no one seemed offended at the notion. “Does anyone object?” asked Liao, who pause and then shrugged. “Good enough. United Nations it is. Now can we discuss more pressing matters? Between us we control perhaps a third of the Inner Sphere. That leaves several powerful states who might well be inclined to see this as a threat against them.”
The Director-General steepled her fingers. “Given the Lyrans haven’t had a solid victory since the Bolan War, twenty years ago, I think Ross Steiner might be open to further diplomatic approaches once he sees that we’re making something of this. He’s no fool – and as long as we can keep him at least neutral then it would be almost impossible for Marik and Kurita to join forces.”
“Which leaves the question of which of them we deal with first,” Baltazar said, trailing off thoughtfully. “Obviously I have a preference.”
“I’m inclined to see the Draconis Combine as the major long-term obstacle,” said Victoria. “If only because Zabu Kurita is far more intelligent and experienced than Jason Marik. On the other hand, the last time we clashed openly he wound up ceding eight worlds to the Outworlds Alliance and executing the Warlord of Galedon for ‘exceeding his instructions’, so he’s perhaps not an imminent problem.”
DeChevilier nodded. “We wouldn’t want to strip the border, but you wanted to reclaim Canopus and Andurien then we can at least provide something of an expeditionary force to support that.”
Tension seemed to seep out of the two affected men at that. “Direct assistance would be more than welcome,” Raventhir said in relief. “We’ve hired on mercenaries from the Pentagon before, so working with you openly would be grand.”
“And you?” asked Liao, still looking at Victoria.
“I’d need to shuffle some reserves – I don’t think having the Syrtis Fusiliers operating alongside Capellan regiments would be wise – but since we can probably reduce our troop presence on your border, I can commit my own forces,” she agreed after a moment.
“I’m most grateful,” the Chancellor murmured.
“One hopes that you’ll show that gratitude in a few years,” McEvedy noted. “Sooner or later, the First Prince and I will want to push the Combine’s border back towards Benjamin. But that can wait a few years. I can maintain the squadron we’ve had operating alongside you near Andurien for the next few years.”
“It seems ironic that once again the nations of humanity are grouping together to avoid war, only to immediately seek one out,” Avellar observed wearily. “It says something unfortunate about us. But so long as no one excepts my own meagre forces to participate then I have no objection.”
“If it’s any consolation, at least we’re not committing ourselves to forcing the other states to join us,” Victoria told him. “It’s been a long time since any of us started a war and we’re not going to have peace unless we can convince the other great lords that we mean it when we say that we’ll stand together against their aggression.”
“There are times you remind me more of your grandfather than your father,” the old man noted. “He had a way of blending realpolitik with idealism too.”
“I suppose I should be flattered.”
“Just try not to break our United Nations the way your grandfather broke the Star League,” said McEvedy.
Victoria smiled tightly. “Grandfather didn’t break the Star League, he broke away from it. Are you going to tell me that he didn’t do everything possible to save it first?”
“He did, you know.” Baltazar leant back. “I saw some of it. I was privileged to see some of it. Enough to know my mother was right about him.”
“Oh?” asked Raventhir. “What did she say?”
The older man steepled his fingers and pitched his voice higher in conscious mimicry. “Davion has been a terrible enemy to us over the years, so if you ever have the chance to become their friend, do so without hesitation.” He hesitated and then finished: “And then turn him against Marik.”
Victoria laughed, just as she thought John Davion would have. “Mission completed, Lord Liao.” She reached over the table and he extended his own hand, the two gripping each other’s fingers in an unvoiced pact. Without prompting, five more hands reached out across the table and joined the handclasp of accord between them.
Fin.
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awesome - sorry to see this come to an end
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The more things change, the more they stay the same. A brilliant story that i'm honestly sad to see the end of.
Bravo good sir, bravo!
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Bravo Drakensis.
You have crafted another brilliant story. It's certainly made getting up at 0500 every day fun!
Get some rest. I'm sure I speak for us all when I say we eagerly look forward to your next story.
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Bravo Drakensis.
You have crafted another brilliant story. It's certainly made getting up at 0500 every day fun!
Get some rest. I'm sure I speak for us all when I say we eagerly look forward to your next story.
Seyla!
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Bravo Drakensis.
snip
Get some rest. I'm sure I speak for us all when I say we eagerly look forward to your next story.
:stupid:
(I don't get up at 5am)
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I'm definitely going to miss seeing this. Well told all the way through! :thumbsup:
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wow such a powerful ending. love to see a TO&E of the houses and a map of the United Nations.
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Wonderful- thank you!
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What the others said. This is a masterpiece.
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Nicely done. Good characterization throughout, plausible storyline, solid writing. Leaves enough tied up, while still leaving loose ends, and hints in other spots (like the New Avalon bakery).
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:clap::rockon: :clap::rockon: :clap: :rockon::clap: :rockon::clap:
Well done Drakensis
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I'm sad to see it end. Though I would love to see what makes up the Free Canopian worlds.
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This was a wonderful story. You expanded from your original outline and made changes that kept us guessing at times. As usual there was wonderful characterization and world building mixed with a great detailing of the conflicts (political, personal, and battlefield) that kept the readers engaged. :thumbsup:
I'm curious as to what you might write next for the Battletech universe. Will it be a continuation of one of your other stories that fell off, I'm particularly looking at Centurion and A Victorian Age, or will it be something brand new? I am looking forward to whatever comes next from your pen...er, keyboard.
:clap:
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Was a fun ride, drak.
Thanks.
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only thing i could of asked more of was like john had steped down as first prince and victoria took overr, and then at this meeting he was the honered elder or some such. but still, awesome story! :clap: :clap: :clap: :clap: :clap: :clap:
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Awesome, one of my favorites
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One tell of a story with lots of plot twists for sure and really kept coming back to read this story and it was fun to see hanse helping out for 20 years which is kinda weird for him though. Thank you very much for this very wonderful story and I really want to say I look for ward to your next monster....
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do not suppose draxis may convert all of this into a single txt or pdf file ? then i can read it again later and never lose it. What do you all think?
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Yesssssss! Do it please!
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I'm sad to see it end. Though I would love to see what makes up the Free Canopian worlds.
The Canopian worlds NOT conquered by the Free World's League of course. Probably has Lockton as a border world, if I was guessing.
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Bravo. :thumbsup: :thumbsup: Greatly enjoyed this tale.
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I have to ask... how did Admiral Jones fare? I can only hope he had a good retired life...
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Drak mentioned over at the OBT.com site that he plans to release this story as a 3-part PDF, for those interested/wondering.
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Okay, these links should (if I've got this right), lead to PDF documents of the three books of the story:
Davion & Davion (Deceased) I - Idealist (https://drive.google.com/file/d/1sfFx3qXed17j5VNUkCciOPq3xRICmMDA/view?usp=sharing)
Davion & Davion (Deceased) II - Loyalist (https://drive.google.com/file/d/1sfq9qVsKLuCPQa_FkyxSuvksS1yYxtlr/view?usp=sharing)
Davion & Davion (Deceased) III - Secessionist (https://drive.google.com/file/d/1jtDrcPs-DlAt_RWQPI5IuqL_ZJcP6nmd/view?usp=sharing)
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Looks like they're working as intended, kind sir! Thanks! :thumbsup:
And I'd still be interested in a word or two about Admiral Jones, if you get a chance... :)
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Awesome and thank you!
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Looks like they're working as intended, kind sir! Thanks! :thumbsup:
And I'd still be interested in a word or two about Admiral Jones, if you get a chance... :)
And Helena Cameron. What happened to her? After all the trouble they went through to keep her safe, her just fading from the public eye after the election was a bit anti-climactic.
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IIRC, she went back to her baking career soewhere in the Federated Suns
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Married to a former MI6 operative...
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Great story Drak! I enjoyed it tremendously! Hope you continue to write, as you do a great job! :thumbsup:
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It would be nice to see what this universe looks like by the time Hanse is born tor supposed to come to power.
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It would be nice to see what this universe looks like by the time Hanse is born tor supposed to come to power.
I don't think we will know it, with all the changes.. but yes would be interesting
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Okay, these links should (if I've got this right), lead to PDF documents of the three books of the story:
Davion & Davion (Deceased) I - Idealist (https://drive.google.com/file/d/1L4wnJj3e2UGF-KAcDW6rVrA5aq2XryOD/view?usp=sharing)
Davion & Davion (Deceased) II - Loyalist (https://drive.google.com/file/d/1tppVqfxDYDymB4DoLFtm3_HILQJyGQgm/view?usp=sharing)
Davion & Davion (Deceased) III - Secessionist (https://drive.google.com/file/d/1m0DiAOs2pxSkWtjmnR15EyaoiEFxU0nc/view?usp=sharing)
Thank you very much!
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IIRC, she went back to her baking career soewhere in the Federated Suns
I believe the exodus meeting was her bakery
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Yeah, I figured the same thing.
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Thank you for the PDFs :) It gives me something to read now :D
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I just finished catching up.
Excellent work Drakensis. Well done and thank you.
I am looking forward to what you come up with next.
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The most irritating thing is..I wanna know how this universe changes and what happens! it seems that the Kerensky boys are fighting or at least have fallen into two camps, the Hegemony survives all be it in a diminished form, there's a bit of a dente going on and it seems the Lyrans are the 'baddies', but there's been no huge collapse, no terrible Succession Wars.
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man just found this after getting a hint somewhere else. a great read and hope you pick this AU up again.
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This is pro level story telling thank you
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This was wonderful. need some more please.
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This was wonderful. need some more please.
i cannot tell you how much I agree.