Author Topic: Davion & Davion (Deceased)  (Read 85416 times)

drakensis

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Re: Davion & Davion (Deceased)
« Reply #150 on: 13 February 2018, 15:40:19 »
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.”
"It's national writing month, not national writing week and a half you jerk" - Consequences, 9th November 2018

drakensis

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Re: Davion & Davion (Deceased)
« Reply #151 on: 13 February 2018, 15:40:49 »
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.
« Last Edit: 13 February 2018, 17:36:30 by drakensis »
"It's national writing month, not national writing week and a half you jerk" - Consequences, 9th November 2018

Giovanni Blasini

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Re: Davion & Davion (Deceased)
« Reply #152 on: 14 February 2018, 01:56:29 »
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.
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drakensis

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Re: Davion & Davion (Deceased)
« Reply #153 on: 22 February 2018, 01:34:08 »
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!”
"It's national writing month, not national writing week and a half you jerk" - Consequences, 9th November 2018

Giovanni Blasini

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Re: Davion & Davion (Deceased)
« Reply #154 on: 22 February 2018, 02:48:38 »
Quote from: drakensis
Reuben James and Battleaxe

I see what you did there. :)
"Does anyone know where the love of God goes / When the waves turn the minutes to hours?"
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Re: Davion & Davion (Deceased)
« Reply #155 on: 22 February 2018, 04:10:58 »
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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2ndAcr

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Re: Davion & Davion (Deceased)
« Reply #156 on: 22 February 2018, 12:48:03 »
Red Storm Rising.................Tom Clancy

Dave Talley

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Re: Davion & Davion (Deceased)
« Reply #157 on: 22 February 2018, 14:46:51 »
Red Storm Rising.................Tom Clancy

he needs to bring in the A10 squadron too
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Re: Davion & Davion (Deceased)
« Reply #158 on: 22 February 2018, 15:02:45 »
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.
"Artillery adds dignity to what would otherwise be a vulgar brawl."
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- Inscription on cannon barrel, 18th century

drakensis

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Re: Davion & Davion (Deceased)
« Reply #159 on: 03 March 2018, 04:43:07 »
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.
"It's national writing month, not national writing week and a half you jerk" - Consequences, 9th November 2018

drakensis

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Re: Davion & Davion (Deceased)
« Reply #160 on: 03 March 2018, 04:43:22 »
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.”
"It's national writing month, not national writing week and a half you jerk" - Consequences, 9th November 2018

drakensis

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Re: Davion & Davion (Deceased)
« Reply #161 on: 10 March 2018, 03:32:16 »
(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.
« Last Edit: 22 March 2018, 18:17:02 by drakensis »
"It's national writing month, not national writing week and a half you jerk" - Consequences, 9th November 2018

drakensis

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Re: Davion & Davion (Deceased)
« Reply #162 on: 10 March 2018, 03:32:34 »
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.”
"It's national writing month, not national writing week and a half you jerk" - Consequences, 9th November 2018

qc mech3

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Re: Davion & Davion (Deceased)
« Reply #163 on: 12 March 2018, 06:37:48 »
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.

drakensis

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Re: Davion & Davion (Deceased)
« Reply #164 on: 13 March 2018, 04:17:31 »
Thanks
"It's national writing month, not national writing week and a half you jerk" - Consequences, 9th November 2018

drakensis

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Re: Davion & Davion (Deceased)
« Reply #165 on: 14 March 2018, 03:35:08 »
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.”
"It's national writing month, not national writing week and a half you jerk" - Consequences, 9th November 2018

drakensis

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Re: Davion & Davion (Deceased)
« Reply #166 on: 14 March 2018, 03:35:24 »
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.”
"It's national writing month, not national writing week and a half you jerk" - Consequences, 9th November 2018

Giovanni Blasini

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Re: Davion & Davion (Deceased)
« Reply #167 on: 14 March 2018, 04:01:25 »
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?
"Does anyone know where the love of God goes / When the waves turn the minutes to hours?"
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Zureal

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Re: Davion & Davion (Deceased)
« Reply #168 on: 14 March 2018, 17:45:40 »
pretty epic , very surprised but happy about the honer shown by the ameris dragoons

mikecj

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Re: Davion & Davion (Deceased)
« Reply #169 on: 14 March 2018, 22:15:59 »
Nice duel!
There are no fish in my pond.
"First, one brief announcement. I just want to mention, for those who have asked, that absolutely nothing what so ever happened today in sector 83x9x12. I repeat, nothing happened. Please remain calm." Susan Ivanova
"Solve a man's problems with violence, help him for a day. Teach a man to solve his problems with violence, help him for a lifetime." - Belkar Bitterleaf
Romo Lampkin could have gotten Stefan Amaris off with a warning.

drakensis

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Re: Davion & Davion (Deceased)
« Reply #170 on: 15 March 2018, 03:05:52 »
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.
"It's national writing month, not national writing week and a half you jerk" - Consequences, 9th November 2018

Giovanni Blasini

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Re: Davion & Davion (Deceased)
« Reply #171 on: 15 March 2018, 03:18:28 »
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.
"Does anyone know where the love of God goes / When the waves turn the minutes to hours?"
-- Gordon Lightfoot, "The Wreck of the Edmund Fitzgerald"

David CGB

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Re: Davion & Davion (Deceased)
« Reply #172 on: 15 March 2018, 19:02:15 »
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
Federated Suns fan forever, Ghost Bear Fan since 1992, and as a Ghost Bear David Bekker star captain (in an Alt TL Loremaster)

alkemita

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Re: Davion & Davion (Deceased)
« Reply #173 on: 15 March 2018, 22:30:31 »
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

DOC_Agren

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Re: Davion & Davion (Deceased)
« Reply #174 on: 17 March 2018, 01:04:00 »
Well done
I can't wait for "Stefan Amaris and Kerensky frank exchange of views.”
"For the Angel of Death spread his wings on the blast, And breathed in the face of the foe as he passed:And the eyes of the sleepers waxed deadly and chill, And their hearts but once heaved, and for ever grew still!"

ckosacranoid

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Re: Davion & Davion (Deceased)
« Reply #175 on: 18 March 2018, 12:43:37 »
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.

drakensis

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Re: Davion & Davion (Deceased)
« Reply #176 on: 20 March 2018, 03:22:20 »
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.”
"It's national writing month, not national writing week and a half you jerk" - Consequences, 9th November 2018

Giovanni Blasini

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  • And I think it's gonna be a long, long time...
Re: Davion & Davion (Deceased)
« Reply #177 on: 20 March 2018, 11:45:49 »
******. I have much more to say, but need a real keyboard, not my phone.
"Does anyone know where the love of God goes / When the waves turn the minutes to hours?"
-- Gordon Lightfoot, "The Wreck of the Edmund Fitzgerald"

DOC_Agren

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Re: Davion & Davion (Deceased)
« Reply #178 on: 20 March 2018, 12:10:03 »
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.




"For the Angel of Death spread his wings on the blast, And breathed in the face of the foe as he passed:And the eyes of the sleepers waxed deadly and chill, And their hearts but once heaved, and for ever grew still!"

Siden Pryde

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Re: Davion & Davion (Deceased)
« Reply #179 on: 20 March 2018, 13:47:54 »
Awesome chapter.  That last scene was amazing.
« Last Edit: 20 March 2018, 13:53:10 by Siden Pryde »

 

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