BattleTech - The Board Game of Armored Combat
BattleTech Player Boards => Fan Fiction => Topic started by: AlphaMirage on 25 April 2023, 12:16:01
-
Prologue 1 – Revelation
06/17/3050 | Location – Epsilon Pegasus Zenith, Coreward Periphery
Microwaves crackled outward from the emergence waves of four Dante frigates and an accompanying pair of Carrack armored transports. ‘Precentor’ Commodore Alain Beresick sat behind his red lit console as the CS Virgil’s vast sensor suite and supercomputers cooled by their cryogenic fuel digested large fractions of the electromagnetic spectrum to project a holographic hyperspectral ‘situation’ sphere from the central emitter within the CIC. The lighting in the room was such that nothing was shadowed, and the Captain or Commodore could monitor or take control of their subordinate’s consoles if needed.
“No sign of enemy activity Commodore. Cancelling battle alert.”
The ship’s alert faded away and white light returned to the sleek CIC with its curved consoles and brilliant tapestry of telltales. Alain spun and looked at the virtual diagram on his own console. The ‘Precentor’ Captain sat opposite him with the projected volume of space between them. “No sign of Explorer Corps’ activity either Captain. There are no broadcasts from any of the occupied planets or orbitals, even the nav buoys are silent.”
“Should we drop off another buoy sir?”
“We’ll do it on our way out.” The Commodore switched to the local battlenet which included their flotilla of twelve carrier and assault dropships in addition to the Warship squadron, “Task Force, our principal objective remains to investigate why Columbus is silent. Set courses and match velocity to Virgil.”
While mostly automated humans still controlled the Dante’s helm and other vital systems. The Delta Adept operating as Helmsmen plotted a track to the Epsilon Pegasus IV known as Columbus. “Aye, Aye sir.”
06/25/3050
From the orbital drydock built into Columbus’ captured asteroid moon Amor it was evident that the installation was intact but vacant. CSC Espatiers investigated but found the cageworks built onto the moon, a facility as large as a Faslane, empty and quiet as well.
Alain and the Captain, a graceful woman with short braided blonde hair, stood on the observation deck as more solar panels turned toward the Sol-like primary Epsilon Pegasus as their backup of the facility’s software reassumed control.
“I’m getting an eerie feeling about this Commodore.”
“As am I Captain Kareis. This is however not the first time we have encountered a vacant compound in the Deep Black.”
“I know but up until four months ago this wasn’t vacant. It was the largest facility of its type in the Explorer Corps. Now its empty. What happened to the satellites? The people? Why does the main facility seem intact?
Surely if it was enemy action, they would have destroyed it, or at least damaged it, in addition to looting the cargo stores which they apparently did according to the Espatiers.”
“I don’t have an answer at this moment Jacoba, but we will thoroughly investigate until we find one.”
“Do you think it could have been the Combine like the Primus believes?”
Alain, a native of Dieron prior to joining the Order during its frenzied recruitment during the early 3030s, relaxed his shoulders and drifted slightly back from the viewscreen. “As much as Coordinator Kurita may feel ill intent toward the order, he is in no position to challenge us presently.
Now it could have been a false flag but the final transmissions from this HPG were talking about a large fleet of ships approaching.
The FSN doesn’t have that many ships and everyone else is on the other side of the Sphere or Combine.”
“Could they have been decoys?
They have been working with the Dragoons around Galax. Perhaps the AMC was involved?”
“We would have noticed their departure.”
“The Jarnfolk? We are near their space.”
“Don’t make me laugh. They are barely a Confederation and far too few. Give it some time before you continue your conjecture Captain and get some rest.”
Bone white power armor descended on their jump jets detaching the drag chute before landing on the desolate ferrocrete that was once Columbus’ Starport. Their Mausers were raised as they approached the hanger passing no dropships standing erect like great towers or laying on the baking ground like lizards as they strode by. Their myomer enhanced strength was insufficient to pry open the thick doors and the Mausers melted when put into continuous mode to attempt to burn through.
The flying wing of a Riever appeared overhead like a predatory manta circling above before touching down with a rooster tail of smoke. It was soon joined by other fighters and shuttles which disembarked platoons of light gray XCT soldiers equipped with the deadly Mauser 960 laser rifle and for hazardous environments in service to the Explorer Corps. A 36-man platoon of XCT stacked up behind a six-man fireteam of Tornado PA(L)s as a CSC Transit taxied into position in front of Hanger 12, the one closest to the crucial power station and command core.
“Breach it!”
Its Tomodzuru roared in the familiar way of any Mechwarrior that had faced a Hunchback before rocking the fighter backward across the pavement even though the pilot feathered his thrusters. Each shell rang against the ground as it was ejected before the hanger door. It took five minutes before the door was ravaged enough to fit Tornados through the breach.
Commodore Beresick walked through an hour later if it was confirmed that the facility was free of any contaminants or enemies. CSC Personnel lined the walls as he passed before continuing with their business of investigating just what occurred with constant updates being fed to the Beta and Omicron Adepts that followed the Commodore wherever he went. Temporary lighting hung from the corridors although everyone had lights on their POV cameras. Alain leaned over his left shoulder toward the Beta Branch Analyst. “So, Donovan you are telling me that just like Amor the databanks were wiped but there is no sign of struggle, bodies, and everything has been looted?”
“I’m afraid so sir. It seems whoever took control of the facility could access the central core and gave our robots enough time to correct anything that occurred before they wiped it.”
“How could someone hack our security protocols? We have the best in the Inner Sphere.” Came over his right shoulder from Omicron Adept IV Cassius assigned to ROM counterintelligence.
“Perhaps they asked?”
“Only four people would have known that code.”
“A Mole is always a possibility Cassius.”
“All four would have been thoroughly screened and conditioned before being entrusted with such a secret.”
“And yet we almost had a Primus that was an Pillarine Mole. Nothing is out of the question.”
Cassius sighed as they continued through the empty, stale corridors seemingly without anchor to anywhere in particular within the chaotic hodgepodge of a facility with such layers of history. The Omicron Adept’s robes rustled as he paused. “Why are we going to the library Commodore?”
“I can’t do anything until Alpha gets that HPG back online and Psi completes their work to reactivate the command center. We can set up a command post in the library until then and it won’t interfere with anyone else’s work.”
Great stacks of books stood idle, the move assist feature inactive due to a lack of power. Alain and company set up their noteputers and a lantern upon one of the dull metal tables and unwrapped their rations for the day. Something caught the Commodore’s attention; a book lay open on the table. He walked over to it and wiped away the dust on the table. “This has been this way for months.”
Donovan and Cassius left their stews and stood beside him. The Analyst wiped his finger across the table as well. “The robots don’t put back books or dust tables with books upon them, Tau Adepts build huge stacks of them and don’t like it when they are disturbed as they might lose their pages.”
The ROM Adept picked up the book to examine it closer, careful not to disturb the ribbon bookmark “The Prophecies of Saint Adrienne Sims, unabridged edition.”
“What passage its it set to Cassius?”
“Chapter Seventy-Eight:
From beyond the darkness a hoard of beasts bearing a crimson Star will appear.
A head of six faces but one voice that will fill the heart with dread.
Its limbs shall shake the very pillars of heaven itself in Judgement.
Only the Faithful and steadfast shall prevail to the End where only One shall remain.”
-
Prologue 2 – The High Queen
10/18/3050
The Triad sprawled outward north of Olympia and almost intruding onto Tharkad City’s COMSTAR exclave where Precentor-Advocate Ulthan Everson of the First Circuit was when he was not touring the Realm or recalled to Terra. Its campus looked more like that of Tharkad University while the Triad was clearly a government complex nah a city in miniature filled with statuary, gardens, and grandiose architecture sometimes built upon ruins left behind in the wake of conflict.
Within the Katrina Steiner Memorial Auditorium of the Royal Court, renamed for the preceding Archon upon their passing, was a bust of the ‘Iron Lady of Tharkad’ cast from a scan of her face when she assumed power. A similar face equally published in everything from glossy tabloids to video holography walked onto the stage standing in front of the richly upholstered chair that waited for her to applause, salutes, and the baroque melody of Arnaldo Champenski’s Gruß des ersten Bürgers (Salute of the First Citizen).
Golden ringlets fell upon an understated yet elegant indigo dress while her jewelry was kept to her wedding rings and small diamond earrings that sparkled under the lights. Archon Melissa Alexandra Steiner-Bradford retained the youthful grace, beauty, and demeanor that had enchanted the Commonwealth ever since she assumed power almost thirteen years and two children ago.
“Welcome all and thank you for your generous donations. It is my great pleasure to welcome you to the Memorial Auditorium for our forum this afternoon.
As you have been of personal service to me. I shall be to you.
Please sit.”
The assembled represented as variable a cross-section of the Commonwealth or Inner Sphere as could be imagined for slightly more than a hundred individuals, The Chiefs of Mission for Ambassadors Sortek, McCarron, and Miraborg, Duke Thelonius Gracchi of Furillo, Precentor Alpha XII Candice Fallows, deputy to Precentor-Advocate Everson, Junior Executives from three dozen companies as well as Barons and Counts from as many worlds, and an equal number of senior military officers wearing four different uniforms. All of whom had donated a tidy fortune to the Archon’s preferred charities to borrow the Archon’s ear in an ‘intimate’ and very discreet setting for an afternoon, as well as show their support to her endeavors and network between themselves.
Melissa gently slid into the chair and drank some of the water waiting beside it. “I will start with the prepared questions unless anyone has something pressing to get off their chest.”
Silence filled the chamber, “As you wish then,” Melissa opened a folder positioned next to her water, “It seems that many of you are either concerned with or want more details regarding our recent policy of investing in expanding our shipyards, financing Jumpships directly through the Commonwealth’s Bank system, or participating in joint ventures around New Oslo and Capella.
Particularly given the government’s investments in the more remote regions of the Commonwealth.
I have authorized the Commerce Bank of Donegal and Gibbs and others to explore our options since the technology is returning to rebuild our fleets, and it seems the Inner Sphere will enjoy a period of abundance.
I understand your concerns however, the lifetime costs of underwriting a jumpship are daunting and the insurance liability is even bigger. Because of this risk COMSTAR’s Phi Branch has always been responsible for this type of business.
This Commonwealth has always prided itself on our stability. The Kroner is as widely accepted as COMSTAR’s own c-bill throughout the Inner Sphere thanks to our alliances and economic aid. Tharkad has a history of refraining for reckless behavior with few exceptions.
This is not New Avalon with its grand adventuresome spirit; indeed, it is fortunate that Ian married a much younger woman. I found him.
Frankly.
Exhausting during our times together. “
She let out a dramatic sigh as laughter erupted from the small audience, loudest among the Sun’s subjects. “Now please give me something more engaging than spreadsheets and prospectus. You have me for the whole afternoon and I already get enough from the Estates General.”
-
Eerie start. Seeing the Explorer Corps is always welcome. I wonder what the Clans look like in your Interpretation.
-
So the clans decided to gather the intelligence on Inner Sphere by kidnapping everyone on Columbus station?
-
It could also mean that the Clans are not in the same location as in canon - they could be further to the 'east' (anti spinward?)
-
Chapter 1 – Under the Stars
04/18/3051 | Miraborg Estate, Gunzberg, Free Rasalhague Republic
Pines swayed in the spring winds cooling on the exposed skin of the couple entwined in each other beneath a tapestry of stars. A young woman pulled back despite her partner’s lips on the nape of her neck. “We shouldn’t be doing this Phelen.”
Phelen Kell attempted to push himself up on his elbows, but she pushed him enough that he could feel the pricks of pine needles on his back. “Since when? You are the one that suggested it.”
She rolled off him and put her nightshirt back on, “I know, I know, but it was a mistake. I have to get home before my dad finds out. You know how he feels about mercenaries.”
“I thought he was over it.”
“Me to! But he has been steaming ever since arriving on Gunzberg about it.”
He stood up to stretch out and pulled on his pants hanging from a branch. “Well he should have made it a lot clearer to the Archon then while you both were on Tharkad. We already have plenty of work.”
The winds shifted so they could hear baying hounds and shouting. “Attans!” Tyra turned to Phelen who looked at his shirt then back to the road, “I’ll try to slow them down. Run for it!”
Needles scratched him as he dashed into the woods hoping he hadn’t forgotten everything from Seventh Kommando summer camp.
Colonel Patrick Kell signaled the gates to their compound marked with ‘Kell Hounds’ Advisory Troop Scrapper’ open backed by the ‘Bad Dogs’ of the 2nd Kell Hounds Regiment. On the other side were three wheeled APCs from the 1st Gunzburg Mechanized Infantry. Their thrumming diesel engines filled the normally quiet night with noise. General Tor Miraborg’s stood before the trucks, his scarred coutenance backlight by their powerful light bars.
“Morning General, appreciate your unit’s enthusiasm for training but you aren’t due here until oh five hundred.” Patrick looked at his watch, “It’s only two.”
Tor signaled back to one of the vehicles and a shirtless Phelen was escorted forward by a man wearing the Arms of the Miraborg Estate instead of the Kungarme’s insignia. The General kept a firm grip on him as he pulled him forward. “I found one of your strays trespassing on my property.”
Patrick looked him over and saw the scrapes and bruises that covered his nephew, “So you did. I appreciate you returning him to me in mostly pristine condition.
How did you get those marks kid?”
Phelen looked nervously back at Tor then back to his uncle. “I fell in the woods.
It’s a good thing the Estate Guards brought me back.”
“Report to the medic and get yourself cleaned up.”
“Yessir!” Tor released him as he walked past the armed guards standing behind the Colonel.
The First Mechanized started back to their vehicles, “I don’t want a repeat of this incident Colonel Kell. Keep control of your mercenaries. Gunzberg’s woods are dangerous and filled with all manner of frightful animals. One could get lost in them and never find their way out again, or worse.”
“I assure you it won’t happen again Herr Miraborg.”
“Good, I will take your word on it as far as I can. See you in a few hours Colonel.”
Tor walked back and into one of the APCs which closed its armored hatch and drove away.
“Are you going to let him threaten you sir?” Said one of the ‘Bad Dog’ Sergeants over the sound of the gate closing.
“I am Leo, he can’t do anything without consequence, but I am still going to put Phelen on that Elissa Garrison mission.
Just in case.”
----------
06/22/3051
Union V LCDS Junkyard was anything but as it transported Company 222 of the Kell Hounds (that is 2nd Regiment, 2nd Battalion, 2nd Company). 222 had even received discounted passage aboard jumpships belonging to the One Star Faith from Tamar to Elissa due to their celebrity status. Elissa gleamed green below them except in the few places where Grimm’s men had strip mined it for precious metals.
Phelen Kell turned off the television which was displaying their view of Elissa’s moon Miranda into the galley, “There’s nothing worth fighting over down there, just a whole lot of nature. Why are we even here?”
Captain Michael Wilson looked up from his stew, “Because there are a bunch of rich pansy kids partying down there as part of that One Star Cult. Their parents are paying us to make sure they don’t get abducted by some pirates before they head home after getting it out of their system.
Haven’t you gotten out into the other dropships?” Captain Wilson looked around at the other Mechwarriors, Pilots, and Ship’s Crew in the Galley. “I know a few of you did, even though I warned you not to.”
“I’ve was just practicing with Grinner or sparring most of the transit.”
“Well, I’m sure you will get plenty more practice with your Wolfhound. Like you said, it’s unlikely we will get any action out here. I’m serious about this, the Stargazers are very open and ‘welcoming’ to strangers particularly such a well-heeled and handsome young mercenary like yourself but keep it in your pants.”
Michael firmly tapped his fingers on the metal table, “You’re here because Patrick had a real fear that you’d get shot for mingling with the locals.”
The rest of the galley laughed and turned the television back on to link with Elissa’s HPG for the latest Solaris news. Solaris Seven Insider appeared with its hosts interviewing the 22 year old O’Bannon sisters who with their matching Marauder IIs were currently fighting their way up the Solaris Top Twenty looking to dethrone Jason Bloch, the reigning Class Six champ. Elizabeth and Tanya O’Bannon’s faces appeared onscreen, their strawberry blonde hair was their most distinctive feature, but wolf whistles filled the room as the mercenaries paid closer attention to the plunging necklines of the twin’s shirts then the earrings or hair adornments that differentiated them.
Phelen retired to the mech bays where Recon Lance Commander Lt. Jackson Tang stood at the foot of his Clint (2-3T) next to Grinner, Phelen’s Wolfhound (1A), with a Hermes II (4K) and Cicada (3M) rounding out the Lance. Jackson paused his diagnostics and walked over, “Don’t let the Captain get to you.”
He pulled idly on the maintenance chart attached to the ‘cage’ that Grinner was stabilized in. “It’s not that, it’s just, you know.
I thought it’d be more like Patrick and Dan told me. My whole life has been training, with the Dragoons, at home, my year at Nagelring. Now I’m just babysitting some spoiled brats.”
“Plenty of good soldiers have gotten kicked out of Nagelring. They gave Roman the boot after knocking up a girl and then he almost took over Buckminster during Götterdämmerung.
Your uncle and brother-in-law only told you the exciting parts. You’ve already gotten a story and you haven’t even seen battle yet. You’ve got time, enjoy it before you get a history as well.”
“Thanks, El Tee.”
“Yeah, now get working on Grinner’s optics package, you can’t touch the log without doing something on it. That’s bad luck.”
“You made that up.”
“You want to chance it Mechwarrior?”
“No sir.”
“Great, we’re going groundside at dawn, Astrapolis time.”
“I can’t believe they called it Astrapolis.”
Jackson shrugged his shoulders, “Cultists are weird like that. Service your mech, check you kit, and get some shuteye. See you tomorrow.”
-
A Hound being hounded by hounds, then falling down some stairs in the woods. Just a small sample of the wondrous activites you can experience as a mercenary.
-
06/23/3051
LCDS Junkyard landed as dawn peeked its radiance over the windblown lake toward Astrapolis. COMSTAR’s HPG complex spread out over the Northern Shore as Astrapolis hugged the Western and Southern Shores. The Starport on the Eastern Shore was oversized for the small city of hundreds of thousands with a dozen spheroid pads and four runways for aircraft, shuttles, and aerodynes but revealed the One Star Faith’s ambition and High Visionary Egan Telosa’s fundraising ability.
As ‘Grinner’ walked past the hangers Phelen saw they held not only bush and float planes but private jets and luxury shuttles in addition to more functional ones. A trio of Beacons (Buccaneers) backed up to a quay as containerized Ergonomic Units marked with logos from across the Lyran Commonwealth were loaded onto barges by skeletal stackers and floated toward Astrapolis.
“El Tee, the Kell Hounds don’t even have a fleet this large. How did the OSF pull this off?”
“They have had a couple hundred more years of history than the Hounds.”
Jackson’s Clint paused to admire the Monarch tucked away on a quieter Southern portion of the pad. Its passengers milled, worked, or exercised in fashionable clothes on the shore during ‘Golden Hour.’
“That said, we clearly are in the wrong business.”
222’s quartet of fighters were already pulled into the two hangers that abutted the fenced in area that would serve as the Kell Hound’s Stockade. Their mechs walked into the weathertight, solidly built, and partitioned Mech Dugout adjacent to their quarters. Captain Wilson’s Marauder was the last machine whose thunderous steps echoed off its barren walls.
Phelen descended the chain ladder hanging from a kneeling Grinner. He unstrapped his helmet shaking out short brown hair while holding the Neurohelmet in the crook of his arm as the others gathered before the elevator. “They better have at least a locker room for us Captain.”
“We can’t expect them to build us a full mech service facility. Even this dugout is more than I expected. We can move the field tools here temporarily, or you could just walk ten minutes to the dropship.
I expect we can rig up some scaffolding, so you don’t have to climb the ladder to board.”
Lieutenant Tang watched as the doors closed leaving them in artificial light except for some vent fans below skylights. “It’s a bit narrow. We can only deploy in double file.”
“If we need to go any faster than that then something has truly gone horribly FUBAR.
If you’d like you can keep your mechs outside, or in the dropship.”
The Hounds looked around to one another. “I think you’re correct Captain. It’s spacious and better ventilated compared to the dropship.”
“Thank you, Lieutenant. Anyone else have concerns? Or do we want to see if the mess is stocked as agreed?”
Ship’s Crew and Technicians arrived on a fleet of battered pickups with the bags shortly after shutting down the Junkyard. "You know what I take it back maybe these Stargazers aren’t so bad after all.” Xavier, one of the Hound pilots, dug into one of the baskets of fresh fruit and bread left on the stainless-steel tables, “These are some hotel level accommodations, except for the smell.”
“That should dissipate in a couple of days. Hey Captain, this level of grub is included in the contract, right?” The Tech Chief said as he sliced a pear.
Captain Wilson sliced through a baguette and slathered it in jam, “They want to make a good impression, so I insisted on it.” He paused and held out the knife to accentuate his next point, “However, booze is not included!”
A groan arose from the 37 assembled Mercs. “Come on Captain! That’s where they always get ya.”
“Oh shutup. You can spend your own money to get tipsy in your off time but moderate yourselves. We must maintain the Kell Hound’s sterling reputation.
You’ll see where all the bars are when we go on our tour this afternoon.”
That afternoon the Kell Hounds were aboard one of the larger ferries that plied Lake Kroeger between the Starport and Astrapolis. It was a dark city, even the Starport shut down at night to preserve the view for their nightly star viewing rituals. An observatory had been built in the nearby hills equaling that of the University of Tharkad but the main city plaza was capable of holding more of the faithful.
Phelen stood on the upper deck as the Astrapolis’ Mayor Cyrus Grissom explained the various aspects of their planned utopian community. He couldn’t help but feel uneasy knowing that the One Star Faith had a plaza with a Cameron Star pointing toward the setting sun allegedly for calibrating their telescopes. However, he knew a similar one, within the Wolf’s Dragoons Enclave on Remus. He had known a Kerensky too and if Natasha were still alive, she would have laughed in his face,
before probably punching it.
-
A star pointing West? hmm...
-
07/02/3051
‘Grinner’ knelt next to an old watermill and spring house within the hills outside Astrapolis. From his perch atop the gangly light mech Phelen Kell could just see through the summer haze onto an observatory dome above the bright green deciduous forest.
“I see you’ve found my fly-fishing hole. Superb recon MechWarrior.”
He peered down at the man shouting at him from almost seven meters below that wore a broad hat, long sleeved blue shirt, and pants while carrying a tackle box and fishing rod in his hands. Phelen dangled down to find ‘Grinner’s chain ladder and descended to stand before him. “Who are you?”
From close he could see that one of his hands was a different shade than the other and could see his reflection in the blue polarized sunglasses. The mysterious man placed his tackle box on the mossy ground and extended his normal right hand to Phelen. “Dmitri Mastok, Psi Branch.”
Phelen extended his hand cautiously and exchanged a firm handshake. “Phelen Kell, MechWarrior”
“I’ve seen your Mech around the Starport from the North Shore. What brings you out here?”
“Honestly, I was bored. This assignment seems like a waste of time, and I was looking for a quiet place to think.”
“About what?”
Behind them the stream trickled relentlessly on its course to Lake Kroeger. “Just things.”
“I find that fishing gives me the freedom to reflect on ‘things.’”
“What kinds of things?”
“Probably similar ones.”
The mercenary looked down at his off-colored hand and fishing rod, “Were you in combat?”
“Yes, and before you ask which one. All of them since MOUSETRAP.”
“But you don’t look that old.”
“I’m not,” Dmitri retrieved his tackle box and walked toward the stream, “I just started early.”
-
Is Dmitri the one once known as Yuri?
-
Baelen. It's a nice day for fishing.
-
07/06/3051
The sun shone brightly through the canopy, beams of light dappled onto the stream as a gleaming trout leapt from the stream hooked by wading anglers, was reeled in, and processed before it found its way into the solar cell augmented cooler behind Phelen.
“Did the Hounds put you on dinner detail?” Dmitri said as he pulled in his own catch and put it into a bundle nearby.
“These are for my personal use.”
“Thinking of becoming a pescatarian?”
“When I was with the Dragoons all they ate was what grew in their aquaponic systems. They said their ships were more home to them than any world could ever be and kept ship-board conditions and discipline even though they were on land.
Unfortunately, you had to catch your meal first. So that’s how I learned how to fish, which was helpful in wilderness school because I am a terrible trapper.”
“I learned how to fish to extend my rations. And not be eaten by giant crocodiles in the process.”
“Giant Crocodiles?”
“Yes, they can reach over thirteen meters long within the Parung River basin.”
“That’s bigger than my Battlemech.” ‘Grinner’ knelt behind them partially obscured in the old Mill’s shadow.
Dmitri’s line sunk into the depths, “I would give it even odds in a fight.”
“You had to dodge something that big?”
“Oh no, you could see those ones coming a long way off and they prefer sandbars in the inaccessible parts of the river. I only saw two larger than six meters in my ten years there.
The more numerous two-meter ones will kill you just the same and those liked the shore.
It kept the prisoners in line, far better than we could, no one escaped.”
Phelen paused for a moment to collect himself and process what Dmitri was saying. “How did you end up joining COMSTAR?”
“Lack of better options after the Andurien Succession. The Blessed Order will find a use for anyone that can pass their tests. House Fujita had given me a well-rounded education although it had cost me an arm and leg in the process.”
“What does Psi Branch do? I don’t hear about it often.”
“It’s COMSTAR’s facility management arm. We do normal things like:
Painting.
Carpentry.
Cleaning up messes.
Handling fissile material on occasion.”
“Handling fissile material?”
“Class B HPGs only have a fusion reactor if the Order can sell enough power to the local community to make it a worthwhile investment. Its one of the key differences between B and A.
Elissa’s runs on three small modular fission units and that’s just for redundancy. Only one is operating most of the time. The photovoltaics are there just because COMSTAR already has the easement, and Astrapolis will buy the power.”
That evening Phelen walked into the mess with a cooler in hand beneath the eyes of his peers.
His lancemate looked him over, “How far does that tan go MechWarrior?
Were you skinny dipping with one of the locals?”
“You’d like that wouldn’t you Julian.”
“Everyone has got telescopes out at night. Not all of them are pointing up.” Julian looked around to some of the other Hounds who burst into laughter. “If you know what I mean?”
Roy, one of the Junkyard’s crew followed him into the kitchen,
“You having a party? Without inviting us.”
He loaded the vacuum-packed filets into the freezer and rinsed out the rest under the vent.
“That better not have been the beer cooler.”
Phelen gave him a wry smile. "I like mine room temp."
"The Dragoons made you a savage."
-
Painting.
Carpentry.
Cleaning up messes.
Handling fissile material on occasion.”
Ah yes, splattering people, destroying property, making people and stuff disappear, with Minoru Kurita receiving first hand experience about your fissile material handling procedures.
-
Nice, very nice
-
08/01/3051 00:40
Red lights blinked on COMSTAR’s HPG transmission dishes and antennae on the northern shore of Lake Kroeger. It serviced a planet of a few million but most of their customers were local to this time zone so they could get away with most of its two hundred personnel working on day shift to service the clients of the Order’s newest HPG, High Visionary Egan Telosa and the One Star Faith.
Rho Adept XII Dmitri Mastok worked the graveyard shift manning the security console within a central cell with more blank screens than people. Video feeds cycling through from the perimeter, lit by Miranda’s moonlight which reflected in the photovoltaic panels, to the dimmed corridors and courtyard of this lakeside monastic compound. His company, beside a pistol on his desk and video feeds were a pair of unfortunates that Precentor Christina Andalo preferred to keep busy at night, under his sharp eyes, and away from the public ones.
Sigma Acolyte Jasper Jacobs and Psi Acolyte Trevor Kastano flipped cards behind him. ‘JJ’ as he referred to himself plopped a stack of coins on the desk which was matched by Trev. “Mirrorshades are you ever going to tell us why you ended up on Elissa? Who’d you piss off?”
Dmitri’s glasses mirrored the video feeds before him, “I was assigned here by Nu Branch, just like you.”
“Nothing else?”
“Should there be? This is like any other assignment in COMSTAR.”
“That’s a full load and you know it.” Trevor folded to JJ and reset the play, “Elissa is one step away from an Explorer Corps Outpost. The only reason this station is here is Telosa’s message hurts the Archon enough that it makes her enemies give him money.”
“Well then you should be working harder to get off this world and go to somewhere more pleasant.
I find Elissa’s HPG relaxing. My former residence was also beside a large body of water. Although there are less carnivorous creatures in Lake Kroeger than there.
I admit to missing them, they were an easy way to make problems disappear.”
“You genuinely creep me out Mastok.”
“Thank you for the compliment, JJ.”
01:20
JJ’s console lit up as he snapped to and pulled his headset on to answer a radio transmission. “Good morning, this is the Elissa HPG, Sigma Acolyte Jacobs speaking. How can I help you?”
Above them the Union-C CGB Lazuk came around to orbit. A tall blonde man with white fur lined coat and a bear claw tattooed on his face shouted into the handset much to the chagrin of the techs pooled beneath him. “This is Star Commander Vasily Cote, of Clan Ghost Bear’s Three Hundred and Twelfth Assault Supernova. We will bring about the return of Kerensky’s heirs and The Star League.
What forces defend this world?”
The line went blank, Vasily looked around the bridge before roaring at the uneasy Techs around him “What happened!?”
“Looks like he hung up on you Star Commander.”
“HE DID WHAT!” The handset cracked as Cote clenched both hands on it as the Techs scattered or donned their helmets.
Vasily slammed the handset on the deck shattering it into dozens of small pieces which flew around the bridge bouncing off screens and consoles.
“YOU DARE TO REFUSE MY BATCHALL!”
Below Jasper hung his headset back onto the stand, Trevor and Dmitri looked back at him, “Who was that?”
“Someone claiming to be part of Kerensky’s something or other.”
Trevor went back to pretending to pay attention to the utilities board, “Only on Elissa. Freckin’ Weirdos.”
-
Issuing batchall to service workers ;D
-
What doesn't every world have their planetary rulers answering the central switchboard?
-
Chapter 2 – Heritage and Heresy
08/01/3051 02:30
A spheroid dropship streaked out of orbit, thermonuclear thrusters shedding light on the darkened lake and town below. Its thrusters roared on approach creating vibrations in their wake on the previously still lake and set the amphibians living in it into an uproar of croaking before it landed on a darkened landing pad. The people of Astrapolis looked in awe as it passed over them waking them from their slumber either in their houses or outside on the summer grass beneath the moon and stars clad only in nature.
The faithful rushed to their telescopes to peer at the new arrival whose running lights on four stumpy legs partially illuminated was a prominent crimson symbol resembling a Cameron Starburst, the symbol of The Star League. Unlike the normal Starburst however this one’s long side pointed down, like a dagger, and reached from the top quarter deck to amidships on two sides. Cheers erupted from more than a few at the sight. On the other sides and beneath ‘CGB LAZUK BCS-2958713’ in white stenciled letters were two other markings; a curious spiral motif featuring six white bear legs and a muzzle on the gunmetal gray paint; beside it was a golden laurel crown and sunburst with the Greek letter Alpha centered in black neatly marking the four doors that opened as the ground cooled beneath them to merely steaming hot.
Ten Battlemechs disembarked from these ramps, three resembled Warhammers and strode toward the HPG. Two walked and looked like King Crabs with similar cannon-like arms which maintained vigil over their vessel. Another three were more like Griffins or Wolverines, and the final two were Panther sized but more than twice as swift on their digitigrade legs. These two sprinted to the HPG twisting and shattering photovoltaics and their stands in the process.
They stopped outside allowing smaller humanoid shapes to detach, jump jets flared in the dark as they landed on the damp earth outside COMSTAR’s fenced perimeter which had large warning signs every thirty meters. The first dozen shapes snapped four metal poles with their tri-clawed arm then walked over the fallen cyclone fencing. With rapid reinforcement from similar units the invaders overpowered the defenders with few shots fired and minimal damage to the facility.
One of the ‘Wolverines’ towered over the gate as COMSTAR’s personnel were ordered out by the armored goliaths standing almost three feet taller than them. “Which one of you is the Precentor?” boomed over the PA as a woman in a white nightdress was pushed forward.
“I am Precentor Christina Andalo. Whoever you are, this flagrant violation of COMSTAR’s sanctity will not go unanswered.”
“I expected you would say that Precentor. Your brethren on Columbus and Oberon said similarly.
Yet we took them as isorla all the same.”
The Mech switched to wide radio broadcast amplified by his dropship’s systems in addition to PA. “I Star Commander Cote declare that Elissa and its inhabitants are now isorla of Clan Ghost Bear unless someone is willing to accept my batchall.”
Captain Michael Wilson’s voice responded from across the Starport where 222's lances of Battlemechs stood in front of their dugout. “I don’t know what the hell a batchall is son,
But if it’s a fight you’re looking for.
Consider The Kell Hounds at your service.”
-
Vasily turned to face the challengers but gestured his mech’s hands to the power armored infantry who maintained their position, “The Kell Hounds?
We have heard of you. Perhaps this will not be a wasted experience after all.
With your defeat I will certainly be sponsored for promotion.”
“We get around, and our well-earned reputation goes ever further. If you know what you are looking at.”
Michael’s Marauder stepped forward and waved one of its PPCs back toward the dropship. “Why don’t you get back in your ship and off this world.”
“That is not how this will work Captain. I have eight mechs and you have eight mechs. You do not know our ways, but we prefer duels.”
“A Kurita might command Second Regiment, but we don’t duel. You fight one of us, you’ll fight the whole pack.” The Hound’s four Aerospace fighters jumped into the sky, their thrusters lighting up the ground below as they gained altitude and wheeling back.
“If you were not rounders, I would commend your Warrior spirit.
Messy it is then.”
Vasily switched over his Binary’s Battlenet, “Engage at will but take them alive if possible. Our Krakens will clear the sky if necessary. Quiaff?”
Green lights lit up signaling aff and understood.
Phelen felt sweat pooling at his arm band as ‘Grinner’ took up position on the right flank alongside Lieutenant Tang while Captain Wilson took command of the left side. The enemy, these Ghost Bears, apparently mocked them by mirroring their distribution. His Warbook couldn’t identify the enemy mechs, but they appeared to be Wolverine or Warhammer-adjacent except for the little ‘devils’ on either side or the big lunks with too many cannons next to their dropship.
Grinner shot off in pursuit of one of these speedy ‘devils’ as the main battle line probed the enemy formation with long range fires. Missiles arced into the sky from 222’s Longbow supported by direct fires from their Jagermech DDa, Teng’s Clint, and Cicada while Captain Wilson’s Marauder ‘Vagabond’ and a Gallowglas unleashed their ‘Enhanced’ PPCs. Their PPCs weren’t the only thing enhanced, 2nd Regiment Kell Hounds’ last rotation to Outreach had seen a major armament modernization courtesy of Allied Mercenary Command’s Blackwell Heavy Industries. Although this would to his best knowledge be their first taste of combat, and if he could cross his fingers he would.
His Exostar Pinnacle flashed but missed as his enemy went from in front of him to behind him closing the effective range of the long range laser in seconds. Grinner’s sensors registered thermal plume and armor damage almost equivalent to being hit by all four of 2nd Regiment’s CO Akira Brahe’s CGR-SB’s lasers, a mech that at least massed double whatever this thing was.
“How is this possible?”
The Ghost Bears aimed for maiming with deadly accuracy that immobilized the Cicada as if it were standing still, the Jagermech was next its spindly limbs cut through by laser pulses. Then the right arms of both the Marauder and Gallowglas. Although slowed by the heat permeating its myomer Phelen’s devil was still faster than his Wolfhound and even though they fired less often it’s lasers cut deep into Grinner’s structure while his own were barely able to track the machine.
Hound Pilots executed air strikes, but deadly flak spat out of the larger mech’s barrels shredding their wings in the process and forcing one to crash into the forest. Its pilot ejected and deployed their chute partially illuminated by the Ghost Bear’s spotlights. 222 was forced backward as their armament was stripped away with their armor. Despite the AMC’s best training and technology, they were no match for their more mobile, better armed, and equally skilled adversary.
Grinner went down with a crash onto the starport’s ferrocrete like the rest of 222 which were immediately set upon by the Ghost Bears. His devil set one of its feet on Grinner’s shoulder and a man’s voice crackled onto the short range comms. “Stay in your cockpit MechWarrior.
Our Elementals will collect you and your machine for processing shortly.”
Phelen put the pistol and knife attached to his cooling vest out a small hatch and onto the ferrocrete, then pulled out a well-worn 5 Kroner coin with the image of Katrina Steiner and Commonwealth Gauntlet stamped on it. “Elissa is easy money, Patrick said.”
The stomping boots of power armored ‘Elementals’ could be heard nearby before they crouched to peer into the open canopy to see Phelen raising his hands in surrender. “Easy money. Nothing will happen he said.”
-
That was even faster than the OTL fight.
-
That was even faster than the OTL fight.
There is significantly less plot armor in the Golden Lion AU.
05:00
Star Commander Cote, his 9 other pilots, their Omnimechs, and the 50 Elemental Suits of the 312th Assault Supernova of Clan Ghost Bear stood by the lakeside. Precentor Andalo, any HPG staff discovered during the blitz, and the Mercenaries of Kell Hounds’ 222 shuffled nervously as they were lined up in the pre-dawn mist. Some of them sported light injuries from the early morning blitz but were given medical assistance while being processed by Cote’s overworked MedTechs which calmed them.
Vasily walked the line his scrimshawed bone medallions clacked dully over his vest, his tattoos, scars, and braided blonde hair reminiscent of some Viking Warlord of old. His MechWarriors however had the same distribution of appearance as any other merc or pirate outfit in the Inner Sphere, although none of them possessed a surname on their vests.
“You are all now Isorla of Clan Ghost Bear, along with this planet.
Know that we did not come here to kill you. In fact, we hope that you will cooperate and aid us in the rebirth of the Star League as The IlClan, of which we are only its humble harbingers.”
One of the Mu Adepts spoke up, “Why should we cooperate with you? You are just going to abduct or kill us. Like you did my brother on Columbus."
The Ghost Bear strode over toward him, standing above him by a head. “Some people died on Columbus yes, and we did take them away. However, if you brother still lives then he can be located, and you can be reunited if you would like and INTER-LOGI can arrange the work assignments.
I too lost one on my sibko mates fighting the COMGuards in the opening actions on Columbus.”
‘Sibko? Like the Dragoons?’ Phelen thought but tried not to betray this feeling of something familiar as the Star Commander walked by and his soldiers watched them intently.
“His Visigoth was disabled by its SDS and burned up in the atmosphere.
It was not a good way to die, but we rarely get a choice.
However, I am giving you one, cooperation will be far less painful for all involved. Think about it.
Until then all of you will be confined to the HPG compound under guard, all armories will be emptied, and my omnimechs will occupy the former Kell Hounds’ barracks while we wait for reinforcements from the Steel Vipers.
No tricks, I understand enough about the HPGs to know what is required to transmit and my Elementals will guard your HPG sanctum.
You will only transmit what I desire.” Vasily loomed over the smaller Precentor, “Failure to abide by this will be harshly punished. Quiaff?”
“Aff…” Christina answered shakily, eyes down.
“As we are both representatives of the past Star League, I presently extend my trust to you.
Do not disappoint me.”
Vasily stood before the assembled group and removed a note from his pocket, “Which one of you is the one known as Sigma Acolyte Jacobs?”
A young man tensed up and other’s eyes betrayed him. Jasper Jacobs was pulled forward ‘gently’ by one of the Elementals. He immediately went to his knees, “I’m so sorry I hung up on you. Don’t hurt me.”
“You sicken me with your pathetic whimpering, and Refused my Batchall.
Throw him in the lake Point Leader.”
From within the suit came a deep bass voice, “How far Star Commander?”
“Enough that it will be amusing to watch him flail his way back to shore, but not enough that he will drown.”
Jasper was walked out a dozen meters into the lake until the nine-foot-tall Elemental was waist deep then tossed a further four. COMSTAR and the Kell Hounds watched as he flailed back, returning to the shore and group sodden and winded. Vasily pulled another note from his pocket and handed it to the Precentor, “Now arrange for a transmission to these coordinates.”
“The Zenith of Drask’ Den?”
“Yes, someone will be listening.”
“How many worlds have you already taken?”
“More than a few but this is just practice Precentor.
The real battle has not even begun yet.”
-
This Star Commander is fairly reasonable for a clanner.
-
That's a pretty decent handling of POWs by Clan Invasion standards. Jacobs can count himself lucky he didn't hang up on the Jaguars or Falcons.
-
This Star Commander is fairly reasonable for a clanner.
They did 'mostly' follow the rules.
06:30
Star Commander Cote sat in front of a camera while the COMSTAR Adepts finished their work.
“Everything will be ready shortly Star Commander.” They said nervously under the careful eyes of Keoni whose head even without the suit almost touched the ceiling and whose shoulders just fit into the door. He loomed over them with arms crossed wearing an armored vest over the flexible, and slightly less protective Aketon bodysuit Elementals wore under their suits containing the integral cooling and medical equipment that helped them survive catastrophic injuries well enough to stay in the Touman.
Vasily looked at himself in the monitor and stroked his chin, “I look good.”
Keoni nodded then touched the ear of his soft cap, “Star Commander, there is a situation outside.”
His own earpiece hung from a necklace just like his Ghost Bear claw, “Sitrep Sub-Commander?”
“The civilians are gathering and approaching our perimeter. ETA fifteen. How would you like me to proceed?”
“Are they armed Nilo?”
“They are carrying things, and waving flags, but I am unable to discern if they are a threat.”
“Maintain the perimeter and await my arrival.”
After he was certain the line was clear, “By the Great Father! I cannot accomplish anything with all these needy rounders about. Point Leader tell your men to keep an eye on them and the Precentor.
If anyone tries something feel free to break,” Vasily paused a moment and stared at the Ghost Bears, “fingers?” The gathered Acolytes eyes went wide with fear, “Yes, fingers are a good place to start.
You four will call a group meeting to warn the others Quiaff?”
“Aff.” They said in unison as the Point Leader ushered them away from the transmission equipment to make a group announcement. As he strode outside Cote passed a group of Kell Hounds urged onward by the machine guns of two Elementals toward the Cloister with ‘pup’ tents in hand. Two of his Ship’s Crew supervised the Psi Acolytes repairing the fence outside which his Conjurer and Emma’s Kraken waited. He ascended the chain ladder into the kneeling mech and donned his neurohelmet.
The Conjurer powered up, the Clan Daggerstar, Alpha Galaxy, and Ghost Bear emblem as well as his Bearclaw leaving no ambiguity of who operated this machine wherever it trekked. “Shall I join you Star Commander?”
Emma said over the radio, “Neg. I need you here to pick off anyone foolish enough to think they can escape with your cannons.”
“There is no honor in that.”
“Nor is there in running. You will get your chance MechWarrior.”
“Nilo, what is going on?” Vasily’s Conjurer stood beside Nilo’s Hellbringer at the point of contact where throngs of townspeople waved flags and cheered as his Omnimechs approached. Elementals stood by at their feet weapons ready unsure of what to make of the encroaching mass.
“The one below the blue Cameron star flag wishes to speak to our leader.”
A man in brightly embroidered robes stood beneath the banner gesticulating wildly toward the crowd like an orchestra conductor.
“Regarding?”
“They wish to welcome you. Apparently, they were expecting us.”
-
07:15
The one star banner flapped in the early morning breeze above the High Visionary as his procession of the faithful watched as one of the strange mechs took a knee onto the grass. A man hopped down from the chain ladder lowered from its cockpit and stepped past the metal goliaths. He signaled to them; they lowered their arms which possessed some kind of machine gun fed from a drum magazine. An odd stranger stopped several paces away from him with a hand on a pistol attached to his cooling vest. His bone talismans and blonde braids shifted in the wind that carried his voice to the gathering crowd.
“I am Star Commander Vasily Cote, Bloodnamed of Clan Ghost Bear,” The man looked at the banner above him, a blue Cameron Star, once the symbol of the Star League. “An inheritor of our Great Father Aleksandr Kerensky’s Exodus Fleet.
Who are you to request my audience? And parade symbols of the Star League as if they have meaning to you?”
The High Visionary briefly genuflected before him followed by the others, sudden movement that caused the armored goliaths to raise their weapons.
“I am High Visionary Egan Telosa, the leader of the One Star Faith that settled this world. Although we have millions of adherents throughout the Commonwealth and beyond.”
Vasily looked back toward his people who lowered their weapons, “You were anticipating our arrival? How?
For how long?
Who told you?
Was it the Dragoons?”
Egan’s movements were grand, accentuated by his colorful robes, and the large star on its back, his tone exuberant. He got close, too close apparently as Vasily politely kept him away with a stiff arm. “I have so much to say and ask of you Star Commander.
My people have been waiting for your return almost as long as yours have been absent from the Inner Sphere. We never lost faith that you would return one day and by divine providence we are here to witness this glorious event. Kerensky’s heirs returning to bring about a revival of the Star League whose absence has left the Inner Sphere in darkness.
Would you and your people accept a feast in your honor this evening?”
Despite the joyous atmosphere Vasily’s response was slow and required several inquiring glances toward his retinue. “Tomorrow is better. I have much to do today and my people need rest.”
“Of course, the Star League was not built in a day or even a decade. Consider Astrapolis and my people at your service Star Commander. Please accept these gifts on our behalf.”
A dozen attractive youths offered baskets of gifts at the Star Commander’s feet and some even caught his eye and he theirs. The civilians cheered and waved as they processed back to town skipping through the water with joy.
Cote watched them depart and scratched his head as one of his Elementals stood beside him and removed the blanket on top the baskets. “A fruit basket and pastries?
What is going on Star Commander?”
“Our glorious work is recognized at least by these ‘odd’ rounders.” Vasily lifted another basket of stone fruit. It looked rough, handmade, and fragile, “However, I will have Marika test these for poison first.”
-
13:49
“Looks like its going to be a hot day Phelen.”
“I could use a cold beer.”
Roy chuckled at their inside joke, “I think we all could. What do you think they want with us?”
“Ransom, maybe? We seem to be a side show compared to COMSTAR.”
Phelen wiped his brow as the sun beat down on him and his fellow Kell Hounds seated or squatting beside tents pitched in COMSTAR’s cloister.
“Do you think they can actually do it?”
“Bring about the return of the Star League? No one has been able to do it for almost three centuries, and to many people have tried.”
Ghost Bear Elementals patrolled the arcade although they shed their powered armor with laser rifles in hand, wearing some kind of flexible full body armor, and helmets, watching everything, ready for anything.
“Although if they possess an army of those guys and the kind of tech that can cut through our crew like butter. Well I don’t know, maybe they can if there are enough of them.”
16:00
The bell rang signaling the evening meal as the Kell Hounds and their COMSTAR ‘hosts’ passed under the eyes of the Ghost Bears to the refectory past the library and other sub-components of the complex. Phelen watched the faces of Blake’s faithful as they showed little appetite as they ate from the stainless steel buffet trays. He stood next to a table of dirty Psi Acolytes in their gray dungarees, “Hope you don’t mind me sitting here.”
Eyes shifted toward Emma, a fierce looking Ghost Bear MechWarrior, approaching with arms covered in tattoos and scars, and a hand on her gun belt. Emma brushed past Phelen and continued her route through the refectory’s aisles to recantations of The Word of Blake read from an elevated pulpit by Demi-Precentor Roza.
“No go ahead, you are our guest after all MechWarrior.”
“Have you guys seen Dmitri?”
“Dmitri?”
“Yeah, Psi Adept, bald, prosthetic arm, wears surprisingly fashionable sunglasses.”
“He’s not with us.”
“Like he died…or.”
“No,” one of the Adepts leaned in, “He’s ROM and the Ghost Bears still haven’t released them from the penitent cells.”
“Dungeon?”
“It’s not a dungeon but it is unpleasant, and just like a ship’s brig, it's mostly for drunks.
Unlike them though he’s absent from the computer roster too. We don’t know what happened to him, or what he’s doing.”
“Why did he lie?”
“He’s ROM. That’s eighty percent of the job.”
-
Oh dear, we got WMD enthusiast on the loose.
-
08/02/3051
Sub-Commander Nilos said as the Ghost Bears walked through the festive atmosphere and aroma of grilled meat and vegetables onto Astrapolis’ central plaza.
"It is a massive Cameron Star.”
“Did you not say you used it for orientation Cobble?”
Cobble was shorter and leaner than Nilos and all three were dwarfed by the two Senior Elemental Point Leaders that accompanied them, each wearing their formal uniforms. Elementals carried ceremonial Claymore style swords on their backs while the other Warriors had pistols on their dress gun belt. More of their Warriors trickled in behind them although ‘enough’ remained behind to keep watch on their bondsmen and the HPG that could ruin the Clan’s grand strategy.
“It aligns perfectly. I of course used instruments as well.”
Vasily watched as the setting sun lined up closely with the long end of the Star League’s most iconic symbol, one which the Clans and COMSTAR still used, in addition to this strange One Star Faith.
“There was nothing in the Columbus datacore about these people Commander.”
“I know Cobble, it also failed to tell us that this world possesses an HPG. Yet I used it yesterday. Filling in the intel gaps is why we are conducting these reconnaissance raids after all.”
“We seem to have a major revelation as well Commander. My technicians suspect the Dragoons retain the ability to manufacture Golden Century era equipment after analyzing the Kell Hounds’ machines.
It would require more thorough analysis aboard the Tokasha to completely confirm if they manufactured it or if it was just left over.”
“We knew they and Kerlin were traitors, but the Khans will no doubt be pleased to hear they chose righteously. The Wolves almost killed the Clans once; we will not give their lessers a second opportunity when we face them.”
Great tables had been laid out on the plaza and those reserved for the Clan were loaded with abundance. Abundance that disappeared to the giant appetites of the equally large Elementals.
Egan Telosa sat across from the Star Commander, “How do you feed those ‘Elementals’?”
“They get five ration packs compared to our three, and that is only if we are working hard. If you ever are unfortunate enough to see them in action, you will understand why they need it.”
“Remarkable, there must be so much around the One Star that the Exodus Fleet protects.”
Star Commander Cote, looked around to Cobble and Nilos, then confidently proclaimed “We call it Strana Mechty.”
“A lovely name.”
“How is it that you know so much about us High Visionary?” Vasily pointed toward the observatory just visible in the fading light of the sun, “Our home world Is very distant and beyond even your mighty telescope.”
“I saw this Strana Mechty in a vision while I was ill with meningitis but then I shortly recovered.”
The Ghost Bear barely avoided spitting up his drink, although he did cough out. “A similar thing happened to Nicholas Kerensky, the founder of the Clans.”
“What a remarkable convergence, that I would have so much in common with someone so far away in time and space.
People thought I was mad, but I convinced the Elders of the One Star Faith that it was a vision and rekindled their dwindling faith that your people might return some day from paradise. Then I did the same to millions, perhaps even billions. Even the Archon supported us in our move to Elissa.”
Vasily paused, taking a bite out of the kebab, and swallowed it.
“The Archon you say?”
“I grew up on Tharkad in the Triad.
Melissa and I were close friends once but then we both grew up and moved on.
If it were possible for me to speak with your Elders as well. I would be so delighted.”
“I will request a meeting, but I cannot promise you anything.”
“Just the opportunity to serve is all that I require.”
“I think the Council will find your faith in them compelling, and reward you appropriately.”
-
Great minds think alike an apparently so do the mad minds.
-
08/07/3051
An immense figure walked through the quiet corridors within the Union-C(entury) CGB Lazuk to its infirmary, a pentagonal patch on his upper arm showed a red cross, three white stripes, and below it a ‘Paramedic’ patch. Two pairs of beds, one massive and one smaller were built into the walls with arcane assemblies of wires and tubes coiled just outside.
Sitting at the bench opposite was a woman with a similar pentagonal patch, although with two blue stripes and ‘Flight Nurse’ patch, pipetted liquids into vials, capped them, finally stacking them neatly onto a metal tray crammed awkwardly on a bench dominated by a purring centrifuge and steaming autoclave.
“Marco, the only reason you should be interrupting me is if one of your fellow Elementals cut their arm off while playing with a Claymore.”
“The Aketon should prevent that quiaff?”
“It is meant to stop spall, low caliber bullets, and small thrusting blades, not a Claymore.”
“Is the Doctor in Marika?”
“No, he is on a house call to Astrapolis. Working his ‘bedside’ manner or so he says, while I am doing all the work,” she locked in the auto-sampling tray into a machine beside her, “as usual.
What did you want to talk to him about?”
“I thought we were to limit our exposure to the Rounders. Yet the Warriors are out there every day near them and have taken their quarters.”
“I appreciate the quiet of their absence. We all got our shots. Columbus was a pathology goldmine. Everyone in Medical Command rested much easier once that endeavor was complete.
Are you afraid the Vipers will ruin the whole thing with their obsession of ‘purity’?”
“Of course, I am concerned that the Vipers will ruin everything. The Ghost Bears did not need a partner, we are the mightiest of the Clans.”
“The Vipers believe the same. That is why we are paired with them out of all the worse choices.”
A ding from the sampling machine caught Marika and Marco’s attention. The Elemental looked over her shoulder. She parsed the interface to see a blood sample had a hit on the mitochondrial DNA that determined bloodnames.
‘Kell, Phelen, MechWarrior Bondsman.’
“Marika, you should tell the Star Commander about this.”
“I will wait for it to finish and run it again. Vasily will need to consult the Khan, perhaps even the Council.”
‘Ward Bloodhouse. Tagged for Annihilation by order of The ilKhan July 3020’
-
Was all of the Wolves sentenced to annihilation or just the Ward bloodline?
-
More likely is linked to Kerlin Ward being the sponsor/creator of the Wolf Dragoons and their treason after the 3019 resupply.
-
08/11/3051
Phelen Kell woke to a dim light shining through the reflectors above him on the arched ceiling cruelly mimicking dawn. He sat up then looked around the COMSTAR penitent cell toward the padded metal door with its narrow slot where a meal would occasionally come, its narrow metal camode, and felt his back twinge from the firm cot beneath him. A growl came from his stomach, one of the only certain ways to time his detention. “Two days, maybe, if the light is telling me the truth.”
His loose-fitting white outfit rustled as he stepped barefoot onto the smooth, cool floor.
“I’ve been through worse!
You hear me!
I’ve been through worse!”
The shouts disappeared into the anechoic coatings on the walls, replaced with disquieting silence. Seventh Commando’s SERE course on Outreach had been a living hell, but that was training. If Elissa’s ROM contingent were still down here, in their second week of confinement and hadn’t lost their minds, then they had gained his respect. Or they might be dead, quietly immured in their own concrete barrels below this installation just like he might be, soon.
A new thought sprang from his musings to occupy his mind. Does COMSTAR have anchorites? Members that would willingly isolate themselves from the world to contemplate their place in the universe. Despite their omnipresence he had never actually thought to find out more about them. They just were and seemingly had always been even though the Order was only a few centuries old. Well, those had been long centuries since the fall of the Star League and now Aleksandr Kerensky’s heirs, Clan Ghost Bear at least and who knows how many more, want to bring it back.
He sat on the floor and pulled the chained hardcover of The Word of Blake toward him. “There has to be something about Kerensky in here, he left Jerome Blake in charge after the Exodus.”
Pages and time flew by as Phelen worked his way through the oft obtuse writings of Jerome Blake and Conrad Toyama. The door opened to the outside although a trio of Ghost Bears stood between him and freedom, including MechWarrior Emma with an odd-looking object on her hip, and an older man with a bag and younger man, an Elemental by look but smaller and not a Warrior, he was unfamiliar with. The men each had a pentagonal cross patch on their uniform marked ‘Flight Surgeon’ and ‘Paramedic’ below.
“I have a few questions for you. Get up or I will drag you.”
“Will there be lunch?”
Her face contorted at the remark and her hand reached for the coil at her hip, “Only If you cooperate bondsman. Otherwise, an empty stomach will be the least of your concerns.”
Phelen paid her little attention as he moved the bookmark to his current page, “But this is a good part.”
“Wrong answer bondsman.”
With a fluid motion the neural whip flicked out making everywhere the slender foil touched feel like liquid fire was poured right into his muscles. His cries of pain ablated away onto the wall as he was pulled toward the interrogation room. Phelen winced as the worst of it elapsed as he was shackled to the table.
“Damn!” He breathed deep and focused on relaxing his spasms, “You bitch. I thought the Star League outlawed neural whips, even the Capellan Confederation doesn’t use them.”
She stood opposite him and put the Neural Whip just outside his view on the metal table between them, “We are not the Star League, and this device was ROMs.
Our version can seek for and stop your heart. Would you like to see?”
“I think I’ll pass.”
“Explain this!”
Emma slapped a copy of MechJock magazine onto the table. The cover story being the formation of the Allied Mercenary Command and modernization efforts of Blackwell Heavy Industries. It featured a full spread of the Kell Hounds (The whole Kell Clan as well as Yorinaga-sama and Akira Brahe), Wolf’s Dragoons (Jaime, Mack, and Maeve), Elders of the Northwind Highlanders, and Brevet-General Ariana Winston of the Eridani Light Horse. A centerfold spilled out from Emma’s sudden violence showing a naked Japanese woman covered by just a fan beside a forest lake.
“I read it for the articles.
What are you, my mom?”
“Actually, your mother, is suddenly a very relevant part of you to us.”
If it were possible, he would have scratched his forehead at the curious statement, “I don’t understand.”
“No, you would not.” She pointed toward her name patch on the uniform, “I do not possess a bloodname yet, but somehow you have potential claim to one. The Ward Bloodname, a former owner of which built the Dragoons and sent them to the Inner Sphere. To spy on your kind.”
“My mother was a Ward. What are you talking about with the Dragoons?
Spies, I don’t believe you.”
“You do not need to believe in the truth for it to still be true. They were spies for many years before Kerlin Ward betrayed the Clans and ordered them to prepare for our eventual arrival.
We found out about it then ended him and his line because as our Founder once said, ‘Those who break faith with the Unity shall go down into darkness.’”
“What does that mean for me?”
“That remains to be determined but know that two Clans died in that struggle so that the rest could live. We have spent almost two generations rebuilding what was destroyed by the Wolves and we will not stop until the Star League had returned under our control and the Dragoons have been destroyed.
Courtesy of your Hounds we have confirmed that the Dragoons have indeed betrayed us, so our retribution will be righteous.”
“How have the Dragoons betrayed you?”
“This advanced technology that your machines are equipped with, that the Dragoons claimed was theirs. It was ours first. The Clans developed the improved versions of your weapons centuries ago.”
“Everything was developed with the NAIS.”
“You can believe that boy, but you are mistaken.”
Now tell me what they are planning!”
“I don’t know!”
“Wrong answer.” She reached over to the neural whip
-
These are quite different Clans compared to OTL. I wonder which was the other Clan to perish, Coyotes?
-
Falcons, perhaps? Underbidding for a chance to wipe out the Wolfs only to end up dead themselves?
-
Ah, there's the Clanner Dark I was expecting.
-
Chapter 3 – Cry Wolf
08/14/3051
A Ghost Bear Elemental kept watch from their perch within the bell tower his rangefinder binoculars collecting starlight then amplifying it to see almost as well as daylight. COMSTAR’s compound had a large easement but the solar panel arrays provided to much cover limiting sightlines. He dipped the binoculars to look at the sledgehammer beside him, part of an un-jammable warning signal that could be heard just outside where a pair of Omnimechs waited.
“To much cover. Why could I not smash them Star Commander?”
He breathed deep and squatted down bringing his Mauser IIC to his lap, “Not like there is any threat left out there. I did not train for years on Bearclaw to be a prison guard like some common freeborn.
Soon I will be able to rip through plates, tear hatches off, and rend ferroglaz to see their fear. It will be glorious.”
An oily black shape slipped through solar arrays then executed a running jump over the perimeter fence. It clung to pieces of statuary and blended into wall decorations and tapestries like a chameleon as Ghost Bears walked past it through the abandoned corridors of the monastery. The armory was empty as were most of the functional rooms and outlying buildings according to his HUD. Raucous laughter came from the refectory where a squad of Elementals sat around a table. Two fully armored Elementals waited outside the main entrance to the HPG Sanctum, problematic but anticipated, and maybe manageable. He avoided the cloister where the Kell Hounds had been encamped for two weeks and went into the penitent cells and interrogation room. “No guards in the prison, what a welcome surprise.”
Something surprising was found in the interrogation room. A dull metal security keycard had been left behind on the table, “How dumb are these Bears?” Along with a neural whip, “Sorry comrades, I needed a new moon, and for them to drop their guard.”
His armored fingertips turned all the lights up and inserted the keycard into its slot. He hoped that when he wiped his ID from the roster it didn’t register on ROM’s closed system. If they didn’t know he existed they couldn’t remove his access codes.
“Adept Rho Twelve Yuri Vulkan, ROM Protocol Five Oh Three Alpha White Terminate.”
A synthesized man’s voice responded, “Access granted.”
“Unlock all cells.”
Green lights replaced the red in front of each cell. “Hopefully someone is alive in there.”
Cell 12 loomed before him and Yuri opened it to a young man slamming a metal meal tray into his helmet. “Good to see you too kid.”
“Dmitri?”
“How did you get in here?”
Dmitri activated the camo system and disappeared into the background for a moment before reappearing. “I didn’t need this suit to be invisible, but it helps.”
“That’s amazing.”
“This is just the Omega branch prototype. I’m busting you out, and maybe everyone else makes it too, at least until the Hounds send a rescue team.”
“Kai and Akira should be on the way, but we can’t use the HPG or get on the dropship. The Bears have it and Alpha branch locked down; they’ll kill us.”
Phelen had angry red scars across his arms and ugly bruises peeking through his clothing.
“Better fast then slow don’t you agree?” He produced a disk from a compartment concealed in his armor. “The now Precentor Martial gave me a workaround just in case. Unfortunately it will fry the HPG in the process,” he returned the disk to its armored compartment, “but that’s a Phi branch problem.”
-
Given how Yuri ultimately failed in his goals in both his appearances so far... I'm having high hopes for him this time ;D
-
I wonder if Phelan will end up going into the WOB in this timeline?
-
Given how Yuri ultimately failed in his goals in both his appearances so far... I'm having high hopes for him this time ;D
Oh, he may have failed two high profile assignments, but he caused some A grade mayhem along the way like the pro he is. The Bears will get a nice intro to IS style irregular warfare and black ops, I'm sure ;D
-
Given how Yuri ultimately failed in his goals in both his appearances so far... I'm having high hopes for him this time ;D
As long as nobody knows it was COMSTAR they can spin it to their advantage. His efforts did boost the recruitment numbers of ROM (from the ISF).
--
The interrogation room’s bright light dazzled Phelen Kell and the emaciated ROM agents but slid off Dmitri’s opalescent green armor like beads of water. “I know you’ve been through hell, but you’ve survived where eight others didn’t, and we have a job to do.”
“How are we getting out Dmitri?”
“There are maybe a dozen Elementals upstairs and two mechs outside. If we can rally quickly and make a run for it. We’ll get fifteen to thirty minutes head start before they pursue.”
“How are we getting off-world?”
Phelen leaned forward, “We don’t need to get off-world yet, just out of this area until a rescue party arrives.”
“Even if Oberon could send units that would still take weeks, and there is no guarantee that the Bears haven’t dealt with them already.”
“There are shuttles and planes at the Starport. We could use them to evade until Second Regiment arrives. It’s in the Free Rasalhague Republic. We failed to contact them on the third, so they know we are in distress.
Cote doesn’t have enough men to chase us all.
We must escape,” Phelen looked at his wounds and those of ROM, “or we will just die slower deaths.”
Dmitri put his hand on the helmet sitting on the table, “You heard the kid. Escape or die, those are our options.
I’m not certain my Tornado can take down even one of the lesser armored ones but I’ll try and clear a path so you can reach the workshops and repurpose something there.
I need the armored Elementals away from the HPG sanctum so I can send a message.
Phelen, I want you to watch my back at first, then you and the Hounds should make for the motor pool and see if your pilots can get the shuttles online.”
He looked around and realized that he was in the best condition out of the eight survivors. “I understand.”
“The rest of you, you know what needs to be done, avoid the cloister until I handle the man in the belfry.” They nodded in grim unison, one of them grabbed the Neural Whip on the table, and they all crept out barefoot into the abyssal night wearing their prison uniforms.
A realization dawned on Phelen, “Dmitri you don’t have a weapon. Are you going to punch him?”
“The camo system cannot disguise stuff I carry, so I don’t normally carry one. I did however bring some options.”
He opened a compartment built in his gauntlet and Phelen saw a spooled garrote wire, the micro-disk, and something else.
“Are those bo-shuriken?”
“Yes, I spent some eventful time in the Draconis Combine. I miss it, things were simpler then.”
They paused and shrunk into shadows as an Elemental strode past them. The giant stopped to put the monstrous Mauser 960 style rifle on his hip, listening intently while looking up at the belfry and moonless sky.
Dmitri disappeared into the shadows adaptive camouflage flickering as it adjusted between lighting conditions. Phelen waited impatiently, almost losing track of him except for the dust disturbed in its wake. A cold shiver crept up his spine if this man could be mouse quiet in a suit. How stealthy could he be outside it?
The shimmer lifted to wrap an almost invisible garotte wire over the Elemental’s neck. Sudden violence disrupted the illusion as the augmented strength lifted the behemoth onto the suit’s back. Despite being strangled the giant slipped the gauntlet on their left hand under the wire.
Their Mauser clattered to the floor as the Elemental let out a bellow and with a flash of blood the Elemental lifted themselves vertical then reached back to grab Dmitri’s armored form, hold him aloft and threw him into a nearby wall like he was a child. The masonry and armor plates cracked as the Elemental stomped toward his attacker.
“You thought you could strangle me?” The Elemental lifted Dmitri’s fallen form to the wall with one arm and was almost helmet to helmet with the Tornado, “I am going to pound you into paste.”
Phelen rushed forward to grab the fallen Mauser. He thought he was strong, but this thing weighed as much as a heavy machine gun. “Why is this thing so damn heavy?” He flipped the side-folding bayonet out, then thrust it into the Elemental’s flanks. As blood rushed out he grimaced, then glared toward him. A sharp side kick knocked him sideways to crash into the concrete with the impact felt deep in his bones.
His fingers reached toward the trigger for the underbarrel grenade launcher; vision blurred with pain, but his target was hard to miss, and his friend had armor but that wasn’t going to be much help against being hit with by the Elemental’s fist.
A half dozen 30mm canisters drove themselves into the Elemental which collapsed from the horrific wounds he had just inflicted. Dmitri smashed the Elementals left arm to free himself and walked toward Phelen’s fallen form. “How did you know they had a safe arming distance?”
“I didn’t. I just wanted to get him in the ribs.” Phelen said as he caressed his own.
“Well good work kid, I think you may have killed the first Elemental in the Inner Sphere.”
“Yay for me. How are you?”
“I’d just be another old man complaining about his back.”
-
A half dozen 30mm canisters drove themselves into the Elemental which collapsed from the horrific wounds he had just inflicted. Dmitri smashed the Elementals left arm to free himself and walked toward Phelen’s fallen form. “How did you know they had a safe arming distance?”
“I didn’t. I just wanted to get him in the ribs.” Phelen said as he caressed his own.
;D ;D ;D ;D Nicely written
-
Like a gargoyle an Elemental crouched and peered through range-finding binoculars as he heard a roar below him and brought his rifle up. “I heard something. Barta, get eyes on all roamers.”
“Aff Rhys, Sitrep in five.”
Tense moments passed as he watched the cloister where the Kell Hounds were encamped, everything was still and dark down there, his IR scope registered everyone was accounted for. He looked behind him, the sledgehammer was missing, right until it hit him in the jaw.
Dmitri’s Tornado materialized from the shadows standing over the mess, “If it was good enough for cattle its good enough for these beasts.” He picked up Rhys’ discarded Mauser, passed it down to a waiting ROM member who struggled with the mass before they split it into three weapons, distributing it to his compatriots. “You know what to do.”
Something only recognized by the hammer in its hands disappeared back down the ladder and into the shadows.
In the cloister Phelen looked around the corner and saw that the belfry was clear, even Dmitri was gone but that was to be expected for a guy with chameleon armor. Without the Grenade Launcher and survival kit the laser rifle was stock heavy but surprisingly handy. One of the female Elementals paced the cloister with her weapon readied.
Through his protective goggles he took aim and fired a mostly silent pulse of roughly four kilojoules worth of energy into her. The barrel noticeably heated up despite the built in phase change coolant and heatsink. He retched at the powerful laser rifle’s effect on her head.
Phelen tried not to look as he recovered and separated the rifle into rifle, grenade launcher, and bayonet as ROM had shown him, it was mostly identical to the SLDF’s 960 but built for the larger Elemental’s ergonomics rather than normal people. “Kell Hounds up and at it!”
Captain Wilson was first out of his tent and Phelen tossed him the other rifle. He picked it up and hugged him with his free hand. “How did you get out?” Then he looked at his injuries. “What happened?”
“I had help from ROM and Captain if we live, I’ll tell you. Right now, get to the motor pool and make for the shuttles. The master key codes are,”
He reached into his pocket and pulled out a post-it, “five oh one three eight.
Five oh one three eight.
Shuttle code, Stargazer Prime Assembly Three Oh Niner.
Pass it on, I’m going to try and clear a way.”
Smoke began rising as fires erupted throughout the HPG compound. “Hurry up!”
“Roger that MechWarrior! Good luck.”
Michael started to stomp and shout. “Hounds! Wake up! Get your asses moving! We are getting the hell out of here! On the Double!”
At the HPG Sanctum the Ghost Bear radio net was saturated with multiple reports of aggressors, sabotage, and mayhem throughout the compound. “The Kell Hounds are escaping! Armored units redeploy to the motor pool and stop them.”
“We were told not to leave our position Point Leader.”
“I am giving you new orders. Redeploy and stop them.” The Elementals shifted in their armor and looked at one another as they marched down the corridor and toward the motor pool. Heavy machine guns on the left arms readied for action.
A shadow detached itself from the wall as they walked by. Like a magician’s trick, a keycard appeared from the air seemingly swiping itself to open the heavy metal door.
Once he was within the sanctum Dmitri removed his helmet and inserted the EOM disk into the master HPG console. Computer code and stellar coordinates, mapped to the Redcastle ROM base on New Caledonia, scrolled across multiple screens.
“I hope you were fast enough kid.” His fingers snapped across the keyboards typing out his EOM message to Precentor ROM, as prompts and warnings flashed everywhere as his infiltration software slaved the interface to his, and ROM’s will.
He heard a pistol click and a women’s voice behind him, “Yuri, put your hands behind your head, and step away from that console.”
Yuri Vulkan did as asked. He turned to see Precentor Andalo ten paces away holding an auto-pistol to him. Her hair was a mess, face a scowl, nightshift charred and shredded. “Christina.”
-
Oops, has she been brainwashed?
-
Or she really likes her HPG and doesn't want Yuri to fry it.
-
To his surprise, his own Sternsnatch Python was pointed at him, “I wondered what happened to it.”
Christina’s aim never wavered as she stepped to the side, “I killed Cara with it after she tried to stab me in my sleep, then I jumped out the window to escape the flames.
I know what you did on Hachiman and Victoria, and a dozen other worlds.”
“The important thing is nobody knows COMSTAR did it.
What’s your plan Precentor?”
“I was thinking about holding you at gunpoint then handing you over to the Ghost Bears and undoing whatever you’ve done afterwards.
Or shooting you in your head now then tell the Ghost Bears after I’ve undone whatever you were trying to do to the HPG.”
“It’s protocol.”
“****** protocol!
I didn’t kill, steal, and sleep my way to Sargasso’s HPG from my slum town when I was thirteen to die on some flyspeck bit of rock for protocol.”
He felt for smooth steel in his right hand, “I always wondered. If they told you. Would it make it easier?”
“Make what easier?”
Yuri flicked a pair of bo-shuriken into Christina’s arm, ducked return fire, then disarmed her and firing a single shot to her head. She collapsed on the floor with a squelch. “What ROM is really here to do.”
Status bars had progressed during his standoff, but they still weren’t ready. Not that it mattered soon it was going to be locked in and nothing was going to stop the end of mission message and a warning to New Caledonia. Yuri clicked ‘enter’ one last time and put his helmet back on to walk back into the uncertain and dark night, then disappeared.
-
Chapter 4 – Coiled and Cornered
08/15/3051
Lake Kroeger was covered with ash and smoke rose from the north as COMSTAR and Astrapolis volunteer firefighters struggled to put out the last of the night’s fires. Kappa and Clan medics tended to dozens of injured and white sheets shrouded the dead recovered from the fire or those that had succumbed. The Ghost Bears were on full alert as a Lion descended and disembarked an identical Binary of black Steel Viper mechs from Psi Galaxy slightly smaller and different than those of the Bears. Following them down the ramp was a Binary of Viper infantry and technicians wheeling VTOLs onto the tarmac.
The commanders of both units met halfway and opened their cockpit canopies to see one another. Even though his Goshawk was slightly smaller than Cote’s Conjurer their cockpits were at the same height. Despite the Vipers mirrored visor Star Commander Vasily Cote just knew that Star Captain Illusha Kearny wore a smug smile on her face. “You seem to have made a fine mess of the place Star Commander.”
Due to their SCBA and accents all vipers lingered on multiple ses although he was certain it was purposeful.
“You think you could have done better Illusha.”
“Obviously Vasily.”
“Elissa was not marked as having an HPG. There were not enough Warriors to control the number of prisoners.”
“A problem that could easily have been solved, by reducing the number of prisoners.
Now Elissa does not have an HPG, thanks to you, and I have more Warriors and fewer prisoners. So, there will be no more difficulties once we have cleaned up your mess.”
Vasily suppressed the urge to draw his pistol and fire it across the way at the Star Captain. “It can be repaired. I will appeal to the Council when I meet with them with the High Visionary.”
“My heart is eased by knowing that you will immediately suffer the consequences of your foolish actions by doing so. My only regret is that I will not be able to deliver it.
Where are these Kell Hounds? Time is of the essence in finding them.”
“One of their shuttles was seriously damaged and we think crash landed nearby.
We lost track of the other one.”
“The Steel Vipers will capture or kill them. Now depart from here with your High Visionary; before your blunders grow into something even Steel Vipers cannot overcome.”
His hand reached for the pistol, but the Ghost Bear raised it in a signal that clearly ended their conversation. He ensured his radio was off as his Conjurer walked off to see Egan Telosa’s Monarch taxiing for launch before he boarded the Lazuk, “Savashri Steel Vipers, needling me on purpose. Once I reach Botany Bay with Telosa, everything will be fine.”
On the tarmac the Airborne Binary prepared to launch, the Vipers slotted their pulse laser rifles and Avenger shotguns into the racks beside them, belted themselves into the Anhurs, facing a mirrored version of themselves across the aisle. These transports and their Donar gunship escorts kicked up dust as they lifted off and began their search.
-
Seems to me like Vipers are in a dire need of attitude adjustment.
-
Seems to me like Vipers are in a dire need of attitude adjustment.
Many have tried, most have failed.
Interlude – End of Vacation
08/20/3051 | Venus, Sol
Aerostat Nahid ‘flew’ through the clouds like a Manta Ray through water, the massive semi-rigid airship’s flattened form provided lift and control. Hydrogen gas ballonets in the envelope provided additional lift and pitch control through the dense atmosphere isolated by water storage from the breathing gas inside its intricate yet elegantly articulated frame.
Flexible screens within the walls made it seem like Precentor Martial Photon Brett and his wife were on a bed was drifting through the sky together. She brushed up against him then reached around him, “What are we going to do tomorrow?”
He gently caressed her arm, “Keep enjoying our family vacation,” she nuzzled him before drifting back to sleep.
Morning brought a new round of colorful clouds as the Aerostat drifted on the planetary jet stream such that it circled the planet every four days and because it was Thursday that meant they would leave before it would complete another circuit. Photon pointed starboard as his stepson and daughter looked through binoculars at a similar Aerostat resort. “That’s the Sholpan kids.”
Elnara, his ten-year-old daughter dipped the binoculars to look at him, “That’s what our ship looks like on the outside papa?”
“Not quite. Ours is bigger but has less people in it and more pretty things to look at.”
“What do all of those people do if they can’t look at flowers all day?”
Photon looked toward Farah staring at him from their table and pulled on his collar, “You’ll find out when you’re older, by reading about it.”
Another contact blip appeared on the window’s HUD off to port, Photon breathed a sigh of relief, “What’s that one?”
“A floating robotic greenhouse.”
“It’s so small.”
“They are only good for a decade before the coating breaks down from acid rain, but they spend that entire time in sunlight, so the plants grow big and strong. Some of the food we eat might have come from there, but Venus feeds a lot of people throughout the Solar System.”
More people arrived in the restaurant, unlike many of the aerostat resorts the Nahid was invitation only. In this case it meant one needed to be a COMSTAR member to stay aboard it. It was also much tamer than the others with a semi-permanent ROM detachment onboard.
Doctor Rajesh Moreno, Chief of Kappa Branch, was here with his family after giving a presentation on space medicine on Aphrodite Station. Carlos had taken a liking to his daughter Silvia and she him since they were the only people in the same age range onboard. His stepson disappeared and she peeled away to a corner booth with a good view of the clouds outside, he passed her the binoculars and pointed out interesting features he had learned about through the week to impress her. Elnara found it all very interesting and snuck away to listen in on her half-brother’s conversation.
Walking in with the aid of a lower body exoskeleton Doctor Janice Calderon, a Kappa Demi-Precentor, followed by her brother Ian, also a Demi-Precentor but of COMSTAR Space Command. With CSC based above at Aphrodite Station Delta branch officers frequently found their way into the clouds below while on leave with their paramours or families. Since Sol was also COMSTAR’s headquarters members from across the Inner Sphere were always visiting as well and some wanted to experience Venus’ eight day cloud cruise packages for themselves while they undertook their rites.
A woman passed Photon a note and whispered, “you should read this,” into his ear before departing the restaurant. Farah watched her depart with her customary furious passion and almost got up to follow her before he put a hand on her shoulder. “I’m sure its work related, and she wasn’t looking for a hookup with the Precentor Martial and his wife.”
“You never know with this planet. I know what happens here.”
“Venus was the goddess of love and beauty, but she has nothing on you” Photon dipped down and kissed her now blushing cheek as he unwrapped the note,
‘End of Mission confirmed on Elissa.
Planet invaded by outside, unknown powers.
Be ready for a call from the Primus at Aphrodite Station for consultation on next actions pending additional information.
CS, Dieron’
Farah watched him shred the note, “What was it?”
“Work related, looks like we will have to enjoy the vacation time we have today.
I will be deployed shortly, for possibly a very long time.”
-
08/27/3051
Five motorcycles cut through wide open grasslands and rolling hills where one could take in the musky smell, thunderous sound of hooves, and sight of immense herds of migrating animals reaching out to the horizon. There were almost no paved roads on Elissa but there were seasonal rivers and lakes that along with dirt and paved runways provided landing strips for planes and small shuttles.
A Rim Worlds’ Republic flag flew above the sign marked ‘Sourwater Station’ creaked in the breeze above the gate as the motorcycles pulled under a photovoltaic shade. Their riders dismounted slinging shotguns from their scabbard over their back before plugging the machines into charging ports. Upon seeing the heavily armed riders the man looking over the horses, motorcycles, trucks, and a small helicopter stayed in his rocking chair keeping his hands visible, and off the rifle in his lap.
The saloon bars opened revealing the profile of figures in gray fatigues, boots, and sunglasses with olive drab plate carrier bearing a snake head insignia. On their belt was a stiletto style knife and pistol along with other pouches. Their leader walked past the staring eyes of rough looking and pistol toting stockmen. On the other side of the bar was a man with the look of weathered leather, she took off her sunglasses to reveal graceful brown eyes and a slender tuft of hair slipped out from her shemagh.
“How can I help you young lady?”
“We Steel Vipers require provisions and information.”
“Well, most information is free if you ask nicely, but provisions cost something.” He looked her over and lingered on her armor and belt, for some reason, “Have you anything to trade?”
Saloon customers looked nervously at the Steel Vipers behind her. She slammed her stiletto deep into the wooden bar top worryingly close to the barkeep’s hand as she drew him toward her by the collar. “Do we look like Merchants to you!”
Customers rose to draw their iron but immediately faced a quartet of automatic shotguns pointed back at them and thought better of it.
“My mistake, please accept my apologies” slipped the barkeep’s lips. She released him to his and the customers relief. “I accept your surkai, but do not make the same mistake again,” she pulled the knife up and pointed it toward him, “or I will take an ear,” then sheathed it.
“Steel Viper? Are you a new plains gang?”
“Neg, Do not mistake us for a gang of Dark Caste. We are Warriors of Clan Steel Viper and seek the escaped Kell Hounds and little else from you.”
They looked around at one another, “Never heard of ‘em.”
She paced around with an Avenger CCW on her hip observed the regulars while two of her men manned the door and another pair searched the premises “Your ignorance is rather convenient considering we tracked their stolen shuttle to this region.
Lots of places to hide on these plains and people willing to help them.
Surely some of you know a few of them and would rather we not stumble upon whatever it is you want to stay hidden in our search or would seek to avoid the punishment we will mete out to their accomplices.”
“We don’t ask questions of folk round here.”
Something about this statement drew the Viper leader to the man who recoiled as she neared him, “Then begin to lean into your inquisitive side.
For your own sake, as well as the others.”
Her knife came out again to carve a radio frequency and ‘Perimeter’ into the wooden paneling to the horror of the barkeep and saloon customers. “If you happen to find out where the Kell Hounds are hiding, this is my number and handle.”
This final display resulted in each customer choosing to pay their tabs and depart. While their provisions were gathered the Steel Vipers enjoyed a hearty lunch of stewed meat and vegetables washed down with glasses of beer at the bar. Each of them received a small satchel, bottle of spirits, and filled canteens. Their leader tied her shemagh and donned her sunglasses once more, “The Steel Vipers look forward to your continued cooperation.”
“Its…my pleasure.”
“As it should be.”
The Vipers departed the Saloon into an empty town square, they looked up at the Rim Worlds’ Republic flag flying above it and then to one another. One of them jogged away then returned with folded flags. They set the RWR flag on fire and raised the Clan Daggerstar and Steel Viper pendant beneath it giving a sharp salute before returning to their motorcycles. Shotguns were returned to their scabbards and maps were pulled out.
“Where are we going to next Diana?”
Diana consulted the topographic map created by their orbiters, “I think South. There are more hills that way, and probably caves they might be hiding in.”
“That is brilliant Team Leader.”
“My mother was a Scientist. Was there any doubt?”
-
Warrior Diana, mother was scientist, from a clan that absorbed Falcons. Nope, no clue who that might be.
-
I didn't know I needed a Steel Viper motorcycle gang in my life, but apparently, I did!
-
I didn't know I needed a Steel Viper motorcycle gang in my life, but apparently, I did!
These kinds of responses are why I love this community. Glad you are all enjoying the story.
08/16/3051
An ST-46 shuttle touched down just as Elissa’s moon Miranda dipped below the horizon and its blue-white sun rose over the horizon. It taxied to a vacant hanger and eleven Kell Hounds disembarked into the twilight dawn and trio of tanned men armed with lever rifles.
“What do you think you Stargazers are doin’? Doesn’t matter that King Grimm gave your boy the planet for a hundred million after working my daddy to the bone in the mines. We was here first.”
Phelen looked at the tail of the shuttle which as marked with the titular One Star of the OSF. The Hounds with weapons kept them at the ready. “We’re not with them.”
“Well, who you with then?”
“We’re Mercs and looking to make a deal.”
“What kinda deal?”
“Mutually beneficial.
You want this shuttle?”
Their leader eased his grip on the rifle, “It’s been a while since the Hansa free trader arrived. Our shuttles are grounded for lack o’ parts.”
“You can have it, but we need supplies: food, clothing, medicine, and transport.” He looked toward the Rim World’s Republic flag waving in the morning breeze. “We need to lay low somewhere until our friends arrive from off-world.”
“We’ll hide it under some brush in the glade before Kenny can get to it with the chop saw.
I’m Eli by the way, and these are my brothers.”
Eli extended his hand and Phelen took it, “Wolfgang.”
“Fancy name. What happened to ‘ya boots boy.”
“I just broke out of COMSTAR jail and killed a few giants in the process.”
“Now that sounds like a story I don’t need to know, Wolfgang.”
They looked at the shuttle once more, “How do you like your grits? And what size boots you want?”
“Plentiful, and forty-one.”
Morning passed with six very upset women and teen girls cooking breakfast as Daniel, the youngest brother, galloped to the trading post to return with a wooden cartload of sundry dry goods pulled along by a mare. Phelen never realized how much he appreciated boots until he had been without them for a few weeks. He bumped into one of the girls while putting on the rough, homespun shirt knocking her over and upsetting her bonnet. “Sorry. Rebecca, was it?”
He reached down to pull her up, “You remembered.”
“I’m pretty good about that. Thanks for breakfast, I know we kinda dropped in on you and your folks without warning. What are you doing over here?”
She fixed the bonnet to her blonde hair again, looked aside, blushing, and kneaded her apron, “I just wanted to make sure you were fine. Are you really from off-world Wolfgang?”
“I am.”
“What’s it like out there?”
“Different.”
“Better?”
“Just different.”
“I was just curious. We don’t get many visitors from off-world round these parts.”
“Which is a darn shame, because it seems to be a fine, hospitable place.”
“Thank you,” Phelen waited for her to return to the group, but she just stood there eyes slightly down, hands folded, “You should go ahead, if we come back together people might ask questions.”
A moment passed before he nodded, “I see, just curious huh?”
-
Looks like Phelan will turn falling down some stairs in the wilderness into habit.
-
Looks like Phelan will turn falling down some stairs in the wilderness into habit.
One of the many occupation hazards of being a battletech mercenary.
------
08/21/3051
Phelen reached back to touch the sleek laser rifle slung over his back, “I have perhaps the most powerful laser rifle in the Inner Sphere on my back.” He pinched himself to feel something different on his increasingly numb and chaffed legs, “yet I am on horseback wearing homespun wool clothes, eating jerky, dry beans, pan bread, and homemade preserves over a campfire under the stars.”
Lieutenant Tang was apparently listening in, “Bit of a different sensation ain’t it?
I’m still thinking about that jam and fresh baked bread though.”
He whispered to Jackson, “Rebecca snuck it into my bag.” The two exchanged a nod and then spoke up to fight the increasingly aggressive wind, “This wasn’t the way I expected our Elissa mission to go.”
“No but if we make it back even your uncle will appreciate the story that comes out of it.”
“If we make it out.
What do you think happened to the Captain and the others?”
Jackson got quiet, it was something they had avoided over the past few days, “If they’re alive, we’ll find and bring them home, but that’s a different set of problems.
I am going to stay focused on our group, tomorrow, and what we can do to change it.
I expect you to do the same.”
“Roger.”
“How’s your bruised ribs?”
“Pained.” Horseback riding hadn’t made it better, but a place in the group’s two light wagons was hardly more stable, “You get kicked by one of those Elementals and tell me how you feel.”
“I’d rather not.”
The Kell Hounds worked their way through a wide expanse of grasslands and rolling hills heading southward four of their eleven with parts of the Mausers had their own horses. Dusk arrived with Sourwater Station looming ahead of them, positioned with a commanding view of the countryside lit with brilliant hues of orange and red. A photovoltaic panel was mounted on a wooden scaffold with enough space to pull the wagons into driving a pump and water purifier that filled a cistern which in turn emptied into the trough by use of hand pump. Hooks for saddles and ties for bridles lined the beams.
An old man rocked in a chair nearby, one hand nudged a star hat up with the other gently resting on a double barrel shotgun, “You fellas are ahead of the big drive.”
They looked around at each other and forgot for a moment that they looked like natives, “Like cattle drive?”
“Sure do.”
“We’re actually prospectors.”
“Oh, heading to them haunted hollers down south?
That vein’s been played out for thirty odd years now.
I should know I worked it back when King Grimm was living up to his name.
Kept enough gold to keep my teeth.”
He smiled a jagged smile, gold caps shone in the dusky light. “Don’t jump anyone’s claim ya hear. Everyone’s armed here but they shoot first down there.
You fellas spending the night?”
Phelen and Jackson looked around at their crew, “Depends, you take Lyran Kroner?”
“Sure do. Talk to my boy Johnny at the bar. It ain’t gonna be five stars, but a roof under your head and bath is a nice treat after spending days under the stars.
This is gonna be the last free night we have for a couple weeks so you’re just in luck.
Don’t worry ‘bout your animals they’s safe with Ol’ Amos.”
Saloon doors opened as the sun settled below the horizon and Miranda replaced it. Inside was roughhewn wood and men. Four colorfully dressed women fanned themselves in the corner watching the Kell Hounds as they walked in and whispering to one another. They took up seats at the bar, “You Johnny?”
“Sure am, you fellas want a room, drinks, or both and maybe more.”
“Both and maybe more,” the Mercs emptied their pockets of the Kroner coins and bills that the Ghost Bears neglected to take from them. Even tossed in their Kell Hound blood chits pulled out of their uniforms before they went into the fire behind Eli’s house.
“I’ll take your coins, but not your chits.
A round of drinks, a bottle for the road, one night under roof, some fodder, stabling, bathes, two hot meals, and a good map. Best offer.”
They looked at the accumulated cash the group had on them; a sizable sum but worthless without someone to take it. “Deal.”
Night passed and the sun rose again on the grasslands of Elissa illuminating the Rim World’s Republic flag that flew in the town square. One of the locals stood beside Phelen, “Beautiful ain’t it?”
“I don’t mean offense, but why do The Inheritors fly the Rim World’s Flag? Amaris committed terrible atrocities.”
“How many were committed by Hegemony troops or fleets in the name of Kerensky, the Camerons, and McKennas that we don’t hear about before him? or since?
Stefan Amaris ended the Star League so we could be free to decide for ourselves what we wanted to be and not live under Terra’s thumb.
Some of them chose to be animals,
The Succession Wars are proof of that.”
-
Spheroids and Clanners both have difficulty understanding that in the Periphery, the Star League was a monster and is still considered as such.
-
09/05/3051
“Reminds me of Tokasha, quiaff?”
Diana stared through her range-finding binoculars at the tortured landscape of these ‘Haunted Hollers’ whose hilltops had been removed by the Oberon Confederation to extract their minerals and between which grew a gnarled tangle of woodlands. The hollers themselves were filled coarse unstable soil from which trickled putrid orange water.
“At least we do not need respirators to breath the air. It remains to be seen what lives within and what threat it poses. There are also less fires.”
“We will not have giant anthropods at least.”
“The smaller ones are more dangerous. I almost died as a creche because I did not check my boots before going outside. Fortunately, we had antivenom on hand.”
“Your mother’s outpost was one of the most remote, I never had trouble with little bugs.”
They returned to their camp where large flexible photovoltaics were plugged into their motorcycles. A charred tin percolator popped over the campfire. She checked her watch and set up a satellite dish while one of her team poured a bitter black liquid into her cup. Diana spit it out and dumped the rest, “Better than last time Caresh, but I still cannot swallow it.”
Caresh poured out the rest of the sad brown fluid, “This object does not come with instructions Diana. It will require experimentation,” he lifted a small burlap sack of mysterious beans, “yet we have limited raw materials.”
“Perhaps its owners should have thought better of firing warning shots at us then. They might still be alive to show us how it works. We have limited everything but be silent I must contact the Star Captain.”
The monitor attached to the dish showed the prime meridian time and an approximate position based on its own INS. A circle represented the signal strength from the few orbiters the One Star Faith had established for their own use, but which had been acquired by her Clan when they took over the garrison. Signal strength increased enough that Diana donned her headset and activated the transmission equipment inside that would link with the Star Captain’s Goshawk or their dropship.
“Star Captain Kearny, are you there?”
“Aff, sitrep Diana.”
“We are still in pursuit of the Kell Hounds and are closing on their position.”
“You said that last week and every day since.”
“And it was true. They continue to evade us.”
“Are you certain you have enough Warriors?”
“There are only a dozen of them, I have four Warriors under my command. That is sufficient.
End of transmission.”
Diana bristled at the Star Captain; her fists clenched white with rage despite the tan from living out in the wilderness for weeks. She wanted to stand up and scream it out over the desolate valleys. Nothing she could do as a freeborn former Jade Falcon would be enough for the ‘true’ Steel Vipers. A nearby stone caught her attention and was immediately tossed over the edge of the rocky defile into the valley.
The Kell Hounds would be caught, or she would die trying.
-------
09/12/3051
A flutter of bird wings snapped Diana awake, her pistol pointed out from the sleeping bag towards trees and the wispy smoke of a dying campfire. She cleared her eyes and saw Melanie sitting with her back to her motorcycle, limply holding a shotgun in the waning light of Miranda as it slipped down to the horizon. The others slept fitfully within their own bags, “You alright Team Leader?”
She cleared her eyes, switched her pistol to safe, and wiped her forehead. “I have a fever.”
“We all do. The water here is making us all sick.
We need replacement water filters, warmer clothes, and more food.
Our supplies are gone and since everyone has started avoiding us so there are no more leads on where the Hounds disappeared to or options to take what we need. They could have moved on to a totally separate region in the weeks we have spent here.”
“I am not going back to Illusha until I find the Kell Hounds!
They are here I know it. The locals manage, we can too.”
“They are from here Diana, we are not. If the Hounds are here, they are getting help and all we are doing is making more enemies while losing our strength.
We will die or get ourselves killed if we stay out here much longer. They will not even need to lift a finger. I’m not sure we can make it to the nearest trading post without local Dark Caste intercepting us or one of us collapsing off their bike.
Please ask Illusha to send backup and medivac.”
“No, I will not give her the satisfaction of seeing me fail.
I told her we could do it and we will.”
“Diana, you know that I would fight alongside you in a Trial to the death. We have lived alongside one another since Sibko. This is not the way Falcon Warriors die, of deprivation, and disease, in the wilderness, on the dawn of the Clans’ great project.
Illusha has treated us like Solahma. We should not give her the satisfaction of killing us like them.”
-
Death is always acceptable, but then, fiction never seems to run out of yandere stalkers.
-
09/14/3051
“Rise and shine Steel Vipers!”
Diana felt something hard push into her ribs through the sleeping bag and raised her hands in surrender. She looked through delirious eyes at the dawning sun illuminated a group of bearded men clad in local attire with bandanas over their faces standing with their legs on her team’s chests, pointing their own guns at them. “How did you sneak up on us?”
“In case you didn’t know we are a Recon Lance, the Kell Hounds are legendary for a reason, and I was trained by Seventh Kommando.”
A bit of bile burned at her throat as much as her forehead. “Phelen Kell?”
“Aff as you Clanners say.
Don’t move now, I’ve seen what this can do to a woman twice your size. It’s not pretty.”
He unzipped her sleeping bag and stripped her gun belt before passing it off to one of the other men who snapped it on. “Get your skinny ass up and don’t try anything crazy.”
She rose from the sleeping bag and was suddenly acutely aware of how much slack was in her belt after more than month hunting the Hounds only to get jumped by them instead. “Where were you hiding?”
“You’ll find out soon enough. Until then it’s not as important as your microwave uplink.”
“What about us?”
“If I wanted you and your team dead, we’d have just shot you, taken it, and let the vultures pick your corpses.
However, that didn’t seem very hospitable of us. It would be a shame for you to have come all this way to die of dysentery or get lynched by the locals. Apparently, most folks round these parts aren’t too keen on restoring the Star League.
Now get your hands behind your head and feet moving. We’ve got a bit of walk ahead of us.”
-
Melanie seems like a rather level headed one.
Did Diana neglect to post night watch or were they all in too poor state to do the night shifts?
-
Diana woke up laying on a bedroll within a dimly lit subterranean cage. Her hand raised up to remove the formerly damp cloth on her forehead then she crouched over to the wooden wash basin as the ceiling was too short to full stand and splashed some of the cool fresh water onto her face. She looked down at her hastily patched and baggy fatigues that showed signs of wear and tear from wilderness travel.
“Feeling better?”
She went up to grab the shoring timbers connected with interlocking staves that formed a primitive but effective barrier. “I would feel better if I were not confined by the enemy.”
Phelen Kell appeared from around the corner, indistinguishable from the photo she had of him while he was in Ghost Bear confinement. “Self-declared. I would too, but until you prove you’re not a threat there you shall remain.”
Her eyes narrowed as he lifted her metal codex necklace and a bracelet with jade and polished tropical hardwood beads and a vial charm, “Team Leader Diana.”
Something inside her felt violated, and fury rose in its place, “Give them back! Or I will break out of this cage and take them.”
“You could just say please.”
“I will not lower myself to such behavior.”
“Politeness is lowering yourself? You have one screwed up culture if that’s the case.”
“You are the one that took them off me.”
“Well, you were almost incoherent for a day. We had to use some of our limited medicine on you and your team to ensure you all made it through the night. If you didn’t, we needed to know what to put on the grave marker and maybe pass on to any relatives.”
Her fury abated only to be replaced by sincere confusion, “Why would you do that?”
“It’s what I would want someone to do for me.”
“Since you are better now, you can have them back.” He put them in a small box and pushed it through along with a cup of slightly yellowish liquid and bowl of stew.
Phelen sat opposite her on a wooden bench just out of arm’s reach and like her his utensils and vessels were made of smoothed wood. “What do you want from me Phelen?”
“I was hoping for an interesting lunch conversation, and for you to not die.”
Diana sat cross-legged on the earthen floor, her knees sticking out from her damaged clothing, “So you are keeping me alive but captive for your own amusement? What does that say about your culture.”
“Fair, I suppose a lot more than I had anticipated. Better than running from you or watching you hang.”
“More will come. The Steel Vipers will not trade my team for the rest of your men. If they are even still on this planet or have not died in the stockade.”
“How many were left?”
“Twenty. Last I heard. Most of them died when their shuttle crashed or shortly before we arrived.”
“Why won’t they trade you?”
“There are two hundred and fifty million freeborn in the Clans' Touman. We are merely five and the Steel Vipers treat us all with equal contempt. To them we are all expendable to save even one trueborn, others disagree but that is our fate as Steel Vipers.”
“On the codex that I took from the Ghost Bear Elemental I killed it mentioned a decant date, but you have a birthday. Why is that?”
“That is the difference between freeborn and true, I have parents even if my father died two years before I was born. Trueborn have geneparents. They are,” Diana paused for a moment, “manufactured as needed to specifications, like my parents were,” she twisted one of the jade beads on her bracelet which held an inlaid symbol of a bird, “back when Clan Jade Falcon existed.”
It was a lot to take in for Phelen, “How was it that your father died two years before you were born?”
She flicked the vial on her bracelet, “My mother is a Scientist and she likes to flaunt the rules.”
-------
09/21/3051
The Kell Hounds gathered around a wooden table nailed onto an old barrel with a ceramic jug with three ‘X’s’ painted on it in the middle and lantern above. “We’ve had these Vipers here for a week. What’s the plan Lieutenant?”
Jackson Teng like the others was hardly recognizable through weeks on the run or in captivity. “Our plan remains the same, unlock Diana’s microwave transmitter so we can hear the rescue party and talk back.”
Roy and the techs looked distraught, “I can’t get past the encryption, it’s intelligence grade.”
Another tech chimed in, “What if the Vipers have already lifted off with the Captain and the others?”
“We have no control over that Vince.”
“I still think we should have just killed them.”
Phelen stepped into the circle, “That’s short-term thinking, we are getting good intel out of them that we can take back to command when we get rescued.”
“For all we know they have already taken Tharkad, Arc-Royal, and dozens of other worlds. What do we do then?”
“We hand them off to the locals.”
“You just don’t want to get your hands dirty Phelen. This is a war we are in now, it’s not just a job.”
“Don’t talk down to me Vince just because you’ve had a dozen years under Patrick in the Second against the DCMS. I respect that, but I did not spend all that time at the hands of the Ghost Bears to be treated like a child.
We shouldn’t make that call if the locals are the ones that will bear the consequences, because you know that is exactly what would happen if Diana and her team were confirmed killed.
We heard how she acted with the locals where they were merely indifferent. A full insurrection would bring down the wrath of Clan Steel Viper onto this community that has helped us so much.”
“How do we know that even if she gives us the code it’s not just going to broadcast an SOS and bring the Vipers right on top of us?”
“We’ll just have to get her on our side.”
Lieutenant Teng interrupted the conversation, “Look we all know that Phelen’s best talent is surviving complex, life threating situations caused by random women he meets.
Have faith,” Jackson poured out shots into the small cups gathered in the circle, “and a drink.”
-
Lieutenant Teng interrupted the conversation, “Look we all know that Phelen’s best talent is surviving complex, life threating situations caused by random women he meets.
Ain't that true.
Come to think, didn't you mention back in the Golden Lion that IS still does not have DHS? This would give Clans a massive advantage, compounded with the fact that they are much better prepared for the invasion this time.
-
Ain't that true.
Come to think, didn't you mention back in the Golden Lion that IS still does not have DHS? This would give Clans a massive advantage, compounded with the fact that they are much better prepared for the invasion this time.
If you check out the Golden Lion TRO in the Battlemech Fan Designs you will find out that the Clans don't have them either.
-
Man, that is one hot AU.
-
Man, that is one hot AU.
If you're not overheating you're not trying hard enough to win in my opinion.
-------
09/25/3051
“You seem nervous Phelen. Have our discussions troubled you?”
Phelen sat cross-legged across from Diana who did the same in her patched fatigues with her now long brown hair braided neatly.
“No.”
“You seem rather confident that your allies will come for you. What will you do if they don’t?”
Her face registered a slight displeasure, ‘Now I am talking like them too. Savashri!’ but quickly regained its composure. She hoped he hadn’t registered it in the dim light.
“There is at least one homesteader’s daughter that thinks I might make a fine husband. I suppose I’ll take her up on the offer.”
“What will you do with us?”
“Find the Sheriff and hand your team over to him.”
“What stops you from doing that now?”
“I don’t want the Steel Vipers to burn the town down to get you.”
She paused and finished the last bit of her stew, “It would happen eventually.”
“How long until your Commander comes looking for you?”
“Illusha Kearny is not my Commander, merely the highest-ranking Steel Viper officer on world. I do not report to her directly. We are merely attached to her unit, so she believes she controls us.”
“Who is your Commander then?”
“Ultimately, Loremaster Kael Pershaw.”
“What is a Loremaster?”
“The Khan’s Left Hand.”
“That explains why your microwave transmitter is locked down with intelligence grade encryption. How long until Illusha begins looking for you?”
“It has been ten days so far?”
“Aff, as you say.”
“Two more and she will assume we perished and send a Star of Goshawks and scouts to look for us, and you. They will not be as gentle and understanding as I have been.”
“What will it take for you to send a message to prevent that from happening?”
“You want me to lie to a trueborn Star Captain of Clan Steel Viper?”
“Yes.”
Diana nudged closer to the bars, “My price is that you let me and my team out of these cages.”
“What will you do after that?”
“What I agreed, keeping you and your team out of cages, for now.”
“How long?”
“I can’t say Phelen Kell. We might both end up in them sooner or later anyway.”
A faint eye twitch betrayed her displeasure once more.
-
This is quite the Western you're treating us to!
-
I'd sing ''Run to the Hills'' at this exchange, but they already are in the hills.
-
This is quite the Western you're treating us to!
Space Western is a genre for a reason, I haven't gotten to a Mad Max world though, yet.
Edit: Actually Detroit in Scars of Victoria is close with it's motorcycle chariot arena, so I have done Mad Max. The periphery is weird y'all
--------
“You can’t be serious Phelen.” Jackson said as he loomed over the assembled team which all cast sinister shadows on the bare stone walls, “How do you know she isn’t playing you?
That letting her and her team out won’t end up with them having knives to our throats?”
Phelen felt the pressure of twenty eyes on him, “I don’t!
I don’t know for sure! But we don’t have great options to get off this world and can’t hide forever.”
He paced around the room, “If they find out she lied to the Star Captain she’s basically committed treason.
If they find us and find out that we captured them, they are likely heading to a penal unit and this whole region is going to suffer reprisals for aiding us.
There’s only one way out for both of us.”
The Kell Hounds stared at one another, “NO!
HARD!
NO!
Taking them with us is just as bad as releasing them.”
A conspiratorial hush settled over them all, “How do we know that is not even what they want?”
“Maybe they have orders to be sleepers and will betray us later.”
“She basically admitted to being a spy already.”
“What if she does cooperate with us though. One treason is enough perhaps the second one will be easier. We want to get the others off-world, right?”
Ten heads nodded, “Maybe she can help us all make it out. If we take her and her team with us.”
Lieutenant Teng sighed, “It’s a terrible plan Phelen. I don’t trust her.”
“Fair but do you have a better one?”
“I sorely wished I did. How much time do you think she can buy us?”
“Hopefully enough.”
09/26/3051
Diana lowered the headset and retracted the transmission antennae as the sun set over the wild hills. She looked out over the ridge for the first time in almost two weeks but appeared melancholy.
“What’s the matter?”
“I thought it would feel different.”
“What would?”
“Betrayal, Deception. No, I might as well be honest about it.
Treason.
I have committed Treason by aiding you and if Illusha finds out about it all our lives are forfeit.”
“How much time did you buy?”
“A week maybe slightly more. After that I will have to bring you in, or they will come and do it themselves and take me too.”
“I suppose we should come up with a plan then.”
“Yes, we find ourselves in dual dilemmas. For better or worse we are intertwined from this moment onward Phelen.”
Phelen looked over to see her fiddling with her bracelet as they walked away, “What does it feel like Diana?”
“Treason?”
“Yes.”
She halted and held the vial on it with her fingers. “Hollow.”
-
Given Phelan's career so far, the intertwining will bring tons of additional trouble, but he has a knack for surviving it. I'm not so sure about everyone else.
So at what point does the Urbie with no name arrive?
(https://i.imgur.com/C6CKv6w.jpg)
-
I don't know what to say to that Psiho except that I hope that someone writes that mini-fic and thank you, I may one day make that a desktop.
-
Chapter 5 – Prisoners’ Dilemma
10/02/3051
An ST-46 shuttle descended from a clear blue sky onto the desolate ferrocrete airstrip in the middle of the grasslands. Beneath the Clan Daggerstar flying above the beacon were eleven bearded prisoners with five masked individuals wearing dirty gray fatigues pointing shotguns at them. The heat of reentry from its sub-orbital flight could still be felt as the shuttle neared the party and lowered itself on its wheels to deploy a ramp.
Star Captain Illusha Kearny descended from the stairs followed by a pair of soldiers whose faces were concealed behind the mirror visors of their helmets carrying compact Gauss SMGs
She approached another woman whose long, braided brown hair slipped out of the folds of her shemagh. “You certainly took your time Diana. I was about to send my own people whether you requested them or not. I had hoped you had perished in the wilderness or at their hands.”
“It will take more than rough living to kill me. The Kell Hounds were cunning prey and aided by the locals. We handled their co-conspirators and managed to capture them alive, and mostly whole.”
“You were supposed to kill Phelen Kell.”
“His fate has not yet been decided by the Council. I will remind you that I have discretion whenever an individual may be of value to the Watch. Phelen Kell may yet be of value to us.”
“He has already been interrogated.”
“By a Ghost Bear, not a Watch Agent. We both know how well Cote’s command carried out their mission.”
Illusha glared at the freeborn, “Yes, we certainly do.”
“Star Captain I am eager to burn this uniform and put this whole endeavor behind me after a long shower. We can continue this conversation in Astrapolis once I process my reports.”
Star Captain Kearny looked around a Diana’s Watch Team and their prisoners, saw everything was dirty and patched up, and smelled their accumulated hunting trip. Her revulsion was evident to everyone. “Very well, put the prisoners in the cargo hold and pack everything up, we are returning to base, and maybe we will finally get off this miserable rock and into the fight.”
-
Given Phelan's career so far, the intertwining will bring tons of additional trouble, but he has a knack for surviving it. I'm not so sure about everyone else.
So at what point does the Urbie with no name arrive?
(https://bg.battletech.com/forums/mechwarrior-hall/battletech-meme-contest/?action=dlattach;attach=69850)
Don't you need a Clint in this too?
-
A Clan Daggerstar and menacing Steel Viper standard flew over Lake Kroeger. Diana stopped at the checkpoint leading into the fenced off perimeter of COMSTAR’s former HPG compound to see her face reflected in a Viper visor.
“Identification and Purpose.”
“Diana, Watch Team Leader. I am here to deliver reports to INTELSTAR and receive missives from Command.”
They hesitated just long enough to be annoyed while staring at her new uniform fresh from the packaging and long hair looped into a loose bun. Her gun belt still showed signs of wear, tear, and more than its fair share of dirt. “You have been away for a while.”
“I have been hunting. Do you think Command would have missed me even if we did have an HPG active?”
“Neg, move along. Watch yourself.”
The checkpoint guards opened the gate and Diana continued onward passing former COMSTAR personnel which continued their duties in their hastily repaired home. Steel Vipers patrolled a reduced perimeter with positions on the roof or from the towers near the gates and corners. Just beyond the fences were the hexagonal yurt-like tents of the infantry Star attached to Illusha’s Binary for additional security and access to either the Eastern (Astrapolis) or Western (Starport) shore.
More Steel Vipers stood watch just outside INTELSTAR’s offices which formerly belonged to the now murdered COMSTAR Alpha branch. Sheet metal filled in for other structural materials which had been burned out the night the Kell Hounds escaped, and ROM destroyed the HPG.
One of the INTELSTAR staff looked up from his oscilloscope, which he was using to test pieces of a disassembled radio. “Diana, I thought you had died. You have lost weight.”
“A combination of sickness and starvation. I cannot recommend it.
I remain alive if only to spite the Star Captain.” Diana looked around to see that the INTELSTAR detachment had apparently been allowed to recruit some COMSTAR personnel into their group, “You seem to be doing well for yourself Nazar.”
“COMSTAR uses the same Star League standards that we do. We cobbled together enough connections so that the only thing this compound cannot do is send hyper-pulses.”
Another of the INTELSTAR techs looked up from her console, “Or make decent coffee.”
“The equatorial temperature of this world is far too low to grow coffee Nia.”
She returned to her duties, “I would have never thought instant coffee from Irdmach would be preferable, but I have changed my mind.”
“Have you brought us anything of interest from your travels Diana?”
Diana unlimbered a heavy message bag and dropped it onto the bench, “Only my reports to be filed and transmitted whenever another jumpship comes into system.”
“Here I was hoping for something more interesting. Were you successful?”
“I captured the rest of the Kell Hounds. When does the next jumpship come into system?”
“End of month, with such a long planetary transit Illusha will likely have to wait until November to get off Elissa. REVIVAL is proceeding as ilKhan Showers had planned so Jumpships are hard to come by as we stay on the move. This one is from the One Star Faith. They have apparently decided to aid our glorious mission.”
“I presume that, and more will keep me reading for some time.”
Nazar looked at the satchel, “You might even need a bigger bag. You have been away for a long time.”
“I swear that I may do more reading than even you, the Scientist, lately.”
“Not lately. With nothing to transmit I have been browsing the Tau branch library. I have found it very intriguing, there are some fascinating illuminated books within, and I have done what I can to ease some of the resentment COMSTAR feels.”
“In true Nova Fox fashion.”
“INTELSTAR belongs to no Clan. We serve all, including the occupied. Although I could not save three of the imprisoned Kell Hounds.”
“What happened?”
“They got sick and were isolated in the infirmary until they succumbed.”
“Kappa branch could have treated them, without even drawing from the Touman’s resources.”
“The Star Captain ordered them not to, she said it would be ‘a waste.’”
Something felt twisted, wrong, inside her that made her think maybe she hadn’t yet gotten over her own illness. She picked up the satchel, overstuffed with printouts from across the Clan’s operation area, from their Homeworlds to the Front Line against the LCAF.
She turned and walked out of the office,“It was a waste.”
-
10/03/3051
Bootsteps echoed within the darkened corridors of CSV Running-Elk as a young woman with three white stripes wrapping a pentagonal arm patch shone her flashlight around. In a weak voice she squeaked out, “Is anyone there?”
A woman’s voice and headlamp came out from the darkened engineering equipment causing the woman to jump back. The stranger’s slate blue jumpsuit showed the symbol of the Steel Viper Watch, her lean face and long brown hair showing in the light.
“Diana, what are you doing on the lower decks? In the middle of the night?”
“I was curious.”
“About?”
“Why the Hell’s Horses changed the Lion dropship’s quad landing leg arrangement to a five legged one.”
“That is an odd question to occupy your mind in the middle of the night Watch Team Leader.”
“Do you an answer for it Savanna?”
“I can look it up.”
“Would you?”
Savanna pulled out her technical computer and searched through the notes for the Hellgate remakes of the Lion Dropship. “The quad arrangement was not as stable on uneven terrain because of the top heaviness of the design.
An additional leg also made it easier to adjust the infantry disembarkation ramps and provided redundancy for battle damage.”
“What would happen if two legs were damaged?”
“It would probably crash into the ground, and we would not get any liberty for months because we would be fixing all the damage.
If we keep it clear of the enemy, the Running-Elk should be fine.”
“That is the purpose of a military dropship.”
She looked nervous in the dim computer light while Diana cast a harsh shadow from the flashlight, “The Star Captain would not drop us right into a hot landing zone, would she?”
“Her Goshawk can hot drop in. As long as we prevent any saboteurs from reaching us and do not land within artillery range the Running Elk should remain intact.”
“You will take care of that right? The Saboteurs, not necessarily the artillery.”
“I can handle both, of course. We have parachutes and Nighthawks.”
“That is a relief. You had me scared there for a bit.”
“Everything is under control.”
“Great, can you leave now? I must complete my rounds and I have had my nightly allotment of freakouts.”
Lake Kroeger was dimly lit with a rainbow of pre-dawn light as an old fisherman rested his elbows on the wharf’s railing as Diana approached the Starport’s lakeport terminal. Laborers and Technicians milled about just outside waiting for their assignments for the day when the office officially opened. A similar line to the one on the other side as Astrapolis’ civilians went across the lake to work with the Clans.
“Do you have authorization to be here?”
He dipped his head and hat to conceal his eyes, “Sure do lady, otherwise I wouldn’t be here would I?”
“Show me.”
He reached out to five her a gloved hand with his ID card which cleared. Then she looked at the shimmering silver lake trout in buckets within his small boat. Something still seemed off about him, she just couldn’t put a finger on it. “Very well Misha.”
“Care for some? I’m selling the whole batch to your INTER-LOGI fella anyway. He’s already weighed it.”
“I will wait for the cooks.”
“Suit yourself, I’ve become quite the sashimi fan over the years and in my travels.”
“Having recently eaten and gotten sick from undercooked food and bad water I will politely decline.”
“Good day to ‘ya then.”
INTER-LOGI, the Clan’s extensive ‘integrated logistics' service, operated out of the former harbormaster’s office. A local Merchant Factor stood behind a desk and sheaf of papers. “Diana, thank you and your team for returning most of your equipment intact. Far better than the regulars,” his voice dropped to a whisper, “or MechWarriors.”
“Regrettably one of our solar rechargers was lost, Durgan. The wilderness is harsh.”
“I am amazed that you managed to stay out in the field for so long on so few provisions.”
“The Watch is resourceful because we must be.
Speaking of provisions, the fisherman outside, who is he?”
“Misha? He is a chill fellow, lives in the woods and on the river as he says.”
Durgan put his finger to his chin, “Little odd, but provides a great product, I just keep forgetting to tell Illusha where her dinner comes from. He stops by a few times a week, but you have been away so long. You are in for a surprise tonight.”
“I have a request for you Merchant Factor. A big one, so you might want to sit down.”
He dropped back into the chair at her request, “You have the authority of the Watch behind you so that does give you some discretion and heft. What do you need?”
“The Kell Hound’s dropship, repaired, refueled, provisioned, and ready to depart on an independent mission I am proposing to Command.
I would also like to requisition a Hansa or OSF crew to man the ship.”
“That is a mighty big ask. The Star Captain would not want her people tasked with it.”
“I am less picky with personnel. You have Astrapolii and COMSTAR personnel that can perform these tasks, quiaff?”
“Aff, technically the Junkyard is isorla of all the Clans as neither Star Commander Cote, nor Star Captain Kearny claimed it, or could reasonably staff it. I will need you to sign for it though.”
Diana handed the man a list of other goods. He peered over them with his glasses. “Fairly normal fare, but I have some questions.
Why do you want the Kell Hounds’ personal effects?”
“They might provide value in operations planning.”
“Ten Mauser Twos, Avenger CCW, Gauss SMGs, Pulse Laser Pistols, Five Nighthawk suits, basically a full Small Arms Armory with boxes of ammo, spare power cells, and tooling.”
“It will be necessary for my mission. We have plenty of spares.”
“Three hundred kilos of Pentaglycerine, one hundred of C-eight, and other miscellaneous demolitions equipment reserved for Elissa’s civilian blast mining. Do you need that much explosive Diana?”
“I may.” Diana leaned in and batted an eyelash, while letting her hair slide down between them, “Durgan, would you rather have it on my dropship or in your warehouse where it could be accessed by saboteurs?”
“You make a very persuasive argument. If it does not involve Touman Capital assets and Illusha does not countermand me. I can get you what you request. It will however take time to restore the Junkyard to operation.”
“How long?”
“A week maybe six days provided we have the right parts.”
Diana did the math in her head, “That is fine, I will not need it until my operation has been approved. It will keep the locals busy though, and out of trouble.”
“Yes, I suppose it would.”
“Thank you Durgan.” She turned slightly away and departed slowly to the door, “I will see you for dinner.” Leaving the door slightly ajar she glanced back at him before walking through with a bounce of her hair and slight smile, “Looking forward to it in fact.”
-
So she needs Running Elk knocked out and system transmitter knocked out so she can take the Junkyard to scheduled jumpship. Sure could use help from certain collateral damage enthusiast cyborg.
-
10/09/3051
Phelen felt the cold concrete beneath his bare feet as he passed through the former COMSTAR compound. Curfew was in effect so only the frogs and insects were out about and making noise. “I really wish I still had those boots.”
He felt a solid jab from behind right in his ribs, “Shut it prisoner.”
“Wasn’t this was supposed to be an interrogation?”
“We do not want to listen to you, the Watch does, for some reason.”
“Oh great. The oh so lovely Diana.”
The Steel Viper slapped his side with the neural whip drawn from their belt. Despite being unpowered the steel whip still stung. “What part of shut it didn’t you understand? Next time I am powering it up.”
All four of them walked silently to the interrogation room that formerly belonged to ROM. Diana sat legs crossed on her chair facing away from the door and mirror as the guards secured him to the table browsing through thick manila folders. “Phelen Kell, as requested.”
She dismissed them with a wave and the heavy door closed effortlessly, “No glib remarks mercenary?”
He looked around the bland, familiar, and uncomfortable room, “I love what you’ve done with the place.”
Diana turned to face him and put the folders off to the side and put the neural whip on top of them, “We have not changed anything.”
“Exactly. It was perfect and functional just like the last time I was here.” He stared at himself in the one way mirror, shaved, and in prison clothes, again.
“Do you know why you are here?”
“I presumed you wanted to see how handsome I am without a beard.”
A sigh and long exhale escaped her lips as she leaned back and patted the neural whip, “The fact that your tongue has remained intact is a testament to my patience mercenary.”
“It has gotten me into and out of many troublesome situations, particularly with women.”
“Until now.”
Phelen smiled at her, “Remains to be seen.” Then lifted his shackled hands, “I’ve done it handcuffed before if you are interested.”
Her eyelids twitched faintly and grip on the neural whip tightened as Phelen’s interrogation continued fruitlessly.
10/10/3051
Two shadows clung to the benighted concrete walls of the MechWarrior’s dugout and crouched along the roof. Gentle persuasion from an impact driver opened the skylight into the Mech Bay. One of them wrapped a rope around their torso as the other looked to see if Mech Bay was occupied. Hand signals quickly signaled readiness as the other rappelled down to the floor. Silently they ascended the stairs to the barracks side door. A keypad blinked red as they approached before seven numbers were punched on the pad.
Her sneak suit’s mask shifted away revealing Diana, “Unbelievable. They didn’t even change the security codes. No wonder ROM was able to break the Kell Hounds out the first time.”
She toggled the code change protocol within the Mech Bay’s security system, ‘77933’
“That ought to slow you down but, just in case.”
Diana lifted an arc welder and metal bracket out of her bag, sparks flew as the welder merged the bracket to the metal walkway. A similar one was anchored next to the small door built into the hanger’s door before she ascended back onto the roof.
Tech Grade III Savanna walked through the lower decks of the CSV Running-Elk and heard something, “No one is supposed to be down here on orders of the Star Captain.”
A hand went over her mouth muffling the scream. She felt something made of cold steel next to her neck. “Mwont kill mwe.”
“It’s me. Promise you won’t scream. Just a nod will do.”
She nodded and had the hand removed from her mouth although it still gripped her neck and the hard object still rested on her shoulder. “What are you doing Diana?”
“Giving you a choice.
If you help me, we both get what we want.
If you refuse, I will have to kill you, but I will feel bad about it.”
“Why?”
“Because I think you and Ash are cute.”
Savanna swallowed hard, and tried not to panic and give her supposed friend a reason to hurt her, “What are you going to do?”
“Leave.
You both can come with me. I need someone to begin the startup sequence for the Kell Hound’s dropship. You and he can do that quiaff?”
“Aff, but there’s no jumpship and Illusha will follow us in the Running-Elk.”
Diana sheathed her knife and showed her a remote detonator switch, “No she won’t.”
“You can’t blow up a dropship. It would take tons of explosives.”
“I’m precisely hamstringing it, that is enough, and a jumpship is on the way.”
A realization dawned on her, ‘She is going to blow the legs. That I told her about last week.’
Her tone was icy cold and caused Savanna to tremble, “Time is of the essence, little tech.
You can die now, later, or much later and elsewhere.
Decide.”
-
Just how handsome must Phelan be, to get away with lines like this, without being beaten Johnny Bravo style?
-
Just how handsome must Phelan be, to get away with lines like this, without being beaten Johnny Bravo style?
Well let me tell about this guy named Patrick 'Playboy' Kell that might have turned out to have had a bad influence on his nephew.
-
Morgan's no better.
-
Morgan's no better.
It must be a genetic trait and completely unrelated to being a wealthy mercenary that nothing can be denied to.
-----
Two of INTER-LOGI’s 10 ton light duty trucks approached COMSTAR’s HPG compound/prison camp passing by the hexagonal Yurts of their fellow Steel Vipers. The compound itself was double fenced and protected by three rolls of concertina wire strung out on the ground. Their headlights were dark, but there was an IR lightbar on top of the cab so only the slow crunching of gravel beneath their tires revealed them in the night before they stopped at the north-eastern gate where a trio of Steel Vipers waited under the lights were overwatched by a machine gun in a sandbag bunker.
The trucks drew up to the gate and its passengers rolled down their windows. “Caresh, Melanie, what is the Watch doing out here so late? It is almost three am.”
Caresh leaned out of the window slightly and Melanie did the same with the other dismounted guard, his passenger climbed out to stretch his legs near the bunker. “We were on a night driving exercise. Just putting these back in the garage. Is that a problem Severine?”
“There is nothing about the Watch being out on maneuvers tonight and the garage is on the other side of the compound. You should have used the main gate.”
Muffled flashes from silenced pistols dropped the guards while a pair of Watch ‘replaced’ the guards who were slumped against a wall out of sight of the watch towers and rest of the infantry camped just outside the fences. The gates were raised, and trucks passed into the inner perimeter of the Kell Hound’s Annex.
Five heavily armored but lightly armed Steel Vipers fell to the armor piercing slugs of a Gauss Sub-Machine Gun before they could register the fact that these two monoculared Watch Agents wore no insignia on their dark blue fatigues. Like the others they were immediately propped up out of the watch tower’s sight and to prevent the horizonal alert on their radios from triggering.
Melanie opened the door into the barracks and was closely followed by Caresh who closed the door behind him. Light streamed in from the oval windows over the sleeping forms of the Kell Hounds. Caresh slammed his hand on the door but didn’t turn on the light, “Witching hour, time to leave Kell Hounds.”
Lieutenant Teng, now Commander of 222 after the death of Captain Wilson, was already awake and ready as were the eleven that had accompanied him to the other side of Elissa. They roused the others and the Watch peered through the partially open door at the Watch Towers above them.
“As soon as we move the alarm is going to be raised. We messed with comms on COMSTAR’s end, but it will be sorted out quickly and we cannot sabotage all the radios in the unit or eliminate the Belfry.”
One of their pilots that hadn’t been with the team tried to make a move for Melanie’s pistol but was stopped by Phelen, “This is some kinda trick Phelen, we can’t trust them.”
“I’m sorry but we couldn’t tell you Virgil. Its legit, we are getting out of here with their help and taking them with us.”
“You said that about the last time, I won’t go back again. You don’t know what it was like watching the Captain and others just waste away.”
Phelen kept a firm grip on Virgil’s wrist and looked toward the others that had suffered tremendously after being recaptured. “I know you’ve all been through a lot, but we are making it off-world this time."
She kept an eye on the watch tower, “Your dropship is fueled up and ready to take off, with all your stuff on it.”
He looked toward Melanie, “How are we getting out of system?”
“A One Star jumpship is due to arrive by month’s end. We will take it over and jump out.”
“What about the other dropship?”
“It is being handled by Diana.” The guards were looking outward as far as she could tell. “Time to go.”
Diana stood at the base of the Junkyard’s main ramp with a vibrosword slung over her back and Mauser IIC in her hands when she heard COMSTAR’s bell ring frantically. Her Nighthawk’s advanced sensors registered that the vessel was warming up and detected machine gun fire in the distance. She signaled to the trio of heavily armored former Jade Falcons crewing a tripod mounted heavy machine gun and gyroscopic harness mounted grenade launcher on the ramp to ready themselves as lights began to show in the tents throughout the Steel Viper camp.
She took a knee and toggled the zoom on the integrated optics that seamlessly broadcast her Mauser’s scope to her HUD because they were designed to work together. Although they were out of effective range, she saw how fast the Viper crews woke up, armed themselves, and manned their checkpoints. It was only a matter of time before they recognized the dropship behind her was powering up and went to investigate. She turned and positioned herself with her back to the ramp and looked toward the much closer Mech dugout where the lights were already coming on. Illusha and her MechWarriors were quick to don their gear and she could only hope that her efforts delayed them long enough, if they got into the fight it was all over.
“Hurry it up Hounds. We don’t have all night.”
-
This entry will be a little choppy, some interludes will smooth it out later but aren't strictly important for the core story.
---
Star Captain Illusha Kearny woke up to the frantic ringing of a bronze bell over Lake Kroeger. She, Raj, and Giselle all uncoiled from one another and looked over to the clock. “Oh, three eighteen. What in Great Father's name is going on?”
The sound of heavy machine gun fire nearby got them all vertical and hastily putting on their clothes, “We are under attack Star Captain.”
Outside the door the corridor clamored with Steel Viper MechWarrors rushing to the locker room to don their cooling vests and neurohelmets. The radio reports were fragmented, but the general situation was that the Kell Hounds had escaped somehow and were heading toward them on light trucks. Then another report told her that heavily armed infantry near their dropship, the one positioned closest to her, were firing upon troopers trying to reach the helicopters.
Vivienne, one of her MechWarriors blocked the way to the Mech Bay, "It will not open Star Captain.”
“Get out of my way!” She pulled her back and put in the code, the keypad blinked red three times meaning it was locked out for three minutes before she could try again. “We do not have time for this. Raj break it down!”
Raj stepped forward his bulk, reflecting his Roland genefather, almost disqualified him for Battlemech service but made him a deadly foe un-augmented even against Trueborn Elementals. Tucking his chin, he slammed his mass into the metal door which deformed but did not fall. He sharply sucked in air and rubbed his shoulder, “It is solid Star Captain. Something heavy is holding it in place.”
“Then we go around it.”
Two of her MechWarriors went out the front door and found themselves under fire as grenades exploded around them cutting into their armored vests and flesh with red hot shrapnel. One of them was injured badly enough that his companion had to pull him back into the dugout by his recovery strap and deploy the IFAK on his vest to staunch the bleeding. “Someone is out there Star Captain.”
Illusha seethed with rage as she looked out and saw the silhouette of a Nighthawk suit just beyond the lights. She saw the muzzle flash of the heavy machine gun firing at and grenade impacts near the jeeps pursuing the light trucks as they stopped next to the dropship. “It has to be Diana.”
She looked toward her other MechWarriors knuckles white and eyes filled with fire, “Someone get an axe and into this fight! I have freeborns to kill.”
A burst of inferno grenades punched through the dugout’s windows activating its sprinklers but those proved insufficient to stifle the flames. Viper MechWarriors deployed extinguishers to not be suffocated within their barracks, slowing them further. Their Goshawks broke through the hanger door just in time to look up as the Junkyard lifted into space illuminating the entire lake basin with its thruster plume.
Star Captain Kearny’s fury was beyond words, every muscle and nerve was saturated with it in a way she hadn’t thought possible. “Your victory will be short-lived freebirth.” She looked over to the Lion dropship proudly standing across the Starport. “I still have the Running-Elk.”
CSV Running-Elk’s legs were engulfed in an explosion, hydraulic fluid bled from the wounded dropship as the tortured metal strained to support its mass. The screech of failed metal could be heard clearly across the lake before the spheroid dropship crashed into the ferrocrete causing a small tremor that could be felt for nearly a kilometer around.
Their Goshawks rushed to investigate and found it mangled, rendered incapable of spaceflight, perhaps forever. Illusha Kearny precisely slammed her mech’s actuator enhanced fist into the ship denting it. Inside her cockpit she did the same cracking one of her MFDs, distorting its picture, and her reflection.
“No! I refuse to accept this! I deserve better!”
---
High above her Phelen Kell held onto the rail next to a delta winged ST-46 shuttle opposite him were Diana still in her suit and Jackson Teng still in his prison whites. “You have one orbit Phelen. If you don’t rendezvous with us after that, you will have to catch up with us.
It’s already twenty days to the Zenith jump point, we must be there before Elissa finds out that the One Star Faith jumpship has arrived to ambush them.”
“I will be there,” Phelen tapped his hand on a metal chest, “We Kell Hounds keep our promises. That is why I must go.”
“I understand and know you will.”
Phelen saluted, “Requesting permission to disembark Captain.”
Jackson returned the salute, “Granted, MechWarrior. Godspeed.”
10/23/3051
Almost two weeks had passed since they left the planet while the Mercenaries and Falcons processed what happened. Based on Diana’s reports the outer Blackjack and Tsarahavana OAs, almost eighty Lyran worlds, were occupied in a line from Elume to Ridderkerk. This inflamed the passions of some of the Hounds who had family on these worlds, but it was quickly put down by Teng who politely reminded them that they only escaped because of the Clanners and so are all marked for death now.
Questions were raised about why the Clans had chosen to persecute their war against the Lyrans to which Diana answered, “ilKhan Showers intends to use the Commonwealth as a steppingstone for greater victory against the whole Inner Sphere.” She didn’t have a full operations plan, only the Khans, Galaxy Commanders, and highest ranking civilians in their hierarchy likely possessed such knowledge.
A different commotion drew everyone’s attention as a KF-emergence wave swept past them. Shortly afterward they resolved a Merchant class Jumpship on the long range scope. “A Jarnfolk ship?”
Phelen Kell, was on bridge watch lost in thought to the mellow tune of telltales blinking green showing all systems normal when a directed radio transmission came across the console. “This is Kai Allard of Kell Hound’s Two One Three transmitting from the Greyhound attached to JF Blatand.
Junkyard is that really you? Gretchen wishes to speak with Captain Wilson.”
He wished for nothing more than the speed of light to stop existing and for a real time conversation with his friend, he had so much to tell him, but Kai was probably off watch by now as even radio to the jump point would take hours. Jackson rushed to the bridge in his pajamas to confirm the codes. “It’s them, and a miracle. Go ahead kid. You are Officer of the Watch.”
“This is Phelen Kell of Kell Hound’s Two Two Two, this is in fact the Junkyard, Captain Wilson is dead, Jackson Teng is in command now. Does the Blatand have a collar for us?”
Seven days later the Junkyard, Greyhound, and Blatant disappeared into the void.
---
11/28/3051 | Outpost, Free Rasalhague Republic
JF Blatant rematerialized into real space, launched its shuttles, and detached the Kell Hound dropships. A squadron of gunships led by an Avenger fast attack craft were waiting for them. “All vessels are to follow Kungliga Flotten commands and prepare for boarding.
The border is closed and the Free Rasalhague Republic is acting under martial law on orders of Elected Prince Magnusson and Supreme General Mansson, failure to comply will result in use of force.
Acknowledge.”
On the bridge of the Junkyard the Kell Hounds and Falcons looked at one another, “We have received your communication and will comply, but since when has the border been closed and martial law instated?”
There was a paused on the other side as one of the boarding craft maneuvered into position, “Since Tamar fell.”
-
So Clans are using much larger numbers and are invading one Successor State at time. The amount of common sense they are using is scary.
-
Rough on the Lyrans. And if they get the time to consolidate and integrate the Lyran economy, there's gonna be bad times for the whole Sphere.
-
Interlude | Kept promises
10/11/3051
A pair of weary wildcatters walked beside their rickety mule carts toward King Grimm’s old shuttle strip which had seen kilotons of gold taken off-world leaving pollution and ruin behind.
“I tell ya Ez. I think they was spinning a tall tale. Off-worlders on this side of Elissa?”
“Eli and his brothers said it was true.”
“Yeah, he’s known to spin a yarn every once in a while.”
“Well, where’d they come from then Abe?”
“I don’t know I just want to see if they were truthin’ about some reward.”
“You didn’t trust Wolfgang? He seemed a charmin’ fella.”
“Yeah, that’s why I don’t trust ‘em. Charmin’ fellas can get away with a lot by taking advantage of suckers like ya.”
The Rim World’s Republic flag once more waved above the beacon and at the base of it was a metal chest with a small triagonal pennant affixed to it with a red and black dog head’s on it. An envelope was taped within a weatherproof cover signed with ‘From Wolfgang.’
Abe opened the envelope, “Hmmm well that’s interesting. It’s a combination.”
He spun the wheel and the lock released from the hasps. The heavy lid lifted to reveal stacks of neatly wrapped silver rounds and vials of gold dust. One of the smaller stacks had a further note attached to it ‘For Rebecca, daughter of Eli. We’ll be back so keep your promises.’
Another note was at the bottom of the chest stamped with the same logo as on the flag and chest, ‘Don’t spend it all in one place, you’d probably break the economy.
The Kell Hounds thank you for your service.’
Both looked toward the haunted hollers, “I guess that vein’s not as played out as everyone suspects. There was still gold in them hills.”
Ezekiel lifted the vials and watched the gold dust flow like an hourglass. “Seems we’ve struck the motherlode.”
They looked into the sky and gave a salute, “Glad to be of service Wolfgang and friends.”
Interlude | Foreign Relations
10/15/3051
The Junkyard’s Wardroom was far to empty for the size of their unit. Their officer group was only 2/3’s what they started and that included Diana.
Jackson lifted the plastic from his microwaved meal, the steam from the vegetable curry. Captain Wilson and the other fallen’s tags hung from the wall, gone but not forgotten. “Diana said she requested the tags and our effects because you would have done the same.”
Phelen sat alone across from him on the metal table. “I would have. She said that?”
“Indirectly. I heard it from Melanie. Diana has been holed up in Captain Wilson’s old room for the past few days.”
“I’ve been busy onboard the others, so I didn’t notice it. This is a bit of a transition for everyone. She’ll get over it eventually.”
“Some of our people are concerned at what she ‘might’ be doing in there.”
“I guess I can understand that but why do I have to talk to her? That should be your job.”
“No one else is brave enough, yet they are all impatient. I’m asking you to do it before I order you to.”
“Fine, I’ll do it but if she is going to kill me it is going to be on a full stomach.” Phelen ripped open the mylar bag of the Clan sourced ration ‘Goliath Gumbo’ out of curiosity and spooned out an indeterminant orange-red glob. “It’s not bad. Just needs some hot sauce. Six out of ten. Melanie wouldn’t have mentioned what Diana’s favorite meal was, would she?”
“Why?”
“It’s always nice to bring a gift before visiting a lady’s quarters.”
Jackson let out an exasperated sigh, “Just get her to come out and stop worrying people. I don’t care what else you do.”
Phelen walked out of the Wardroom and down a steep set of stairs the dropship’s dim interior lighting gave it a twilight feeling. The ship’s clock was currently reading ’03:48’ so the corridors were empty, liminal spaces, almost without shadow. Light shone through and the sounds of movement could be heard behind the ajar door.
He entered and immediately found himself with the narrow point of a Katana blade held by a crouching Diana. His hands raised to show the ration pack and heater he held, and she lowered the blade, “You are right, I should have knocked. I apologize.”
She stood up and sheathed the sword holding it just slightly above her drawstring trousers. He was glad that she had a top on because that would have been even more embarrassing. “Why are you here Phelen?”
“I was bringing you, Breakfast, I suppose. Why are you swinging a sword around in your quarters and not asleep?” He looked around to see that the bed was still made to military perfection and the desk looked just like Mike would have left it, in shambles.
“Precisely to get to sleep. I do not like being confined or not having control of my situation, even if it must be endured.”
“Practicing sword fighting helps you sleep?”
In a single fluid move she drew the Katana and sliced the top three lines off a piece of paper without bending it, “It gives me a sense of control.”
“You can exit the room. It might ease your worries of confinement.”
“Your people follow me; they suspect I am here to sabotage you. No matter what I do they treat me as an enemy.”
“Maybe it has something to do with you swinging a sword around or walking around wearing your gun belt.”
“I would be a poor Warrior to be caught unarmed should combat arise.”
“I think you could take any of us un-augmented, except maybe Vance.”
“He has an old sport’s injury on his right side,” she jabbed her left hand forward in a way he had only heard pillarine nuns could, “one good strike and he would be rendered harmless.”
Phelen placed the meal pack and heater onto the one clear space on the desk, “Perhaps keep that to yourself. Why a Katana?”
Diana showed the fine polished blade engraved with the Jade Falcon logo at the base. She then re-sheathed it with practiced ease and silence. “Rather than some other bladed implement? I am proficient in a wide range of weapons. However, this Katana was artisan forged by Clan Nova Fox and presented to my mother along with my gene-father and.”
She paused for a moment and Phelen saw a tick. Diana loosened her grip to put her fingers closer to the bracelet she had been so eager to reclaim. “Aunt’s gifftake. They were the last Jade Falcons to fall in battle during the Wolf War.
Both were scarcely out of Sibko, but they won the Nova Fox’s enduring respect enough to honor their last requests to present the copy of the Remembrance held by Falconer Joanna, the strict mother slash drill instructor to my mother’s sibko, and the gifttakes.”
“We had one of those too on Outreach. Ranna said she was her grandmother, but I never saw the resemblance. Maybe she took after her father. I never met the man, which was probably for the better.”
“You speak of this Ranna in a special way.”
“I keep forgetting that you are in fact an intelligence agent and I am sometimes a bumbling idiot. Yes, she is, we were fierce rivals in Sibko but, the real battle was to see who would end up on top.”
“Who was victorious?”
“We liked to keep it interesting. It was just warming up after all. We both won in the end.
Wildly digressing from this topic. What is a Remembrance?”
“It is the epic poem of my people, detailing the history of our blood-heritages, and events from our perspective dating back to the War against the Usurper. Mine maybe one of the few to survive the Steel Viper’s purges.”
“Poetry?”
“Do you think we are unsophisticated barbarians Phelen Kell?”
“No, but reading poetry puts me to sleep.”
He saw Diana tilt the sword down, eyes fixed firmly on him as she slowly drew the sword but not before he closed the door behind him, breathed a sigh of relief, and returned to the bridge
-
So Aidan and Marthe died together in what was probably an impressive last stand.
I wonder whether it is Phelan or Patrick who has more instances of regular conversations turning into [porn music starts playing in background].
-
Interlude | Foreign Relations, part 2
Kai Allard swung himself through the dimly lit Jarnfolk ship navigating the serpentine corridors by curious runes. He paused and studied one the strange fluorescent runes painted on the bulkhead. Each was composed of seven different components, an odd calligraphy for an unusual and somewhat alien people.
Lost in thought he didn’t hear anything but felt a brush on his shoulder, he whipped around anchoring himself on the grid of netting ‘beneath’ him to strike out but found Diana ‘upside down’ relative to him. She ducked and his fist passed through strands of hair before his arm was gripped upward in an elbow bind. Kai pulled his arms together to pull her toward him and avoid an elbow lock. They came face to face upside down in the corridor with arms interlocked.
She smiled and pulled herself closer before speaking in whisper. “This is fun, want to continue? My quarters have plenty of room.”
Phelen Kell sorted through reports from the Kell Hounds prior to departing the Free Rasalhague Republic and Diana’s more recent reports from the other side. It wasn’t looking good for the LCAF but surely Melissa and the Generals would be able to redirect the military to blunt the Clan’s advance. Kai slipped through the hatch into the Wardroom, finally a welcome distraction.
“I have a question.”
“Regarding?”
“Diana.”
“What did she do now?”
“Me and her got in a bit of a tussle on the Jumpship.”
He looked Kai over, if anyone could beat Diana in a fight it would be the Wushu Champion and one of the most skilled MechWarriors in the Hounds. Kai didn’t have any injuries from getting in a fight though.
“What kind of tussle?”
“I’m certain she is hitting on me. Said something about coupling.”
“So?”
“I was just wondering…”
“We’re not together, if that’s what you are asking.”
“Okay, talk to you later.”
Kai was at the door when Phelen spoke again, “Word of caution though."
“Yeah.”
“Use Caution.”
Interlude | Fates Entwined
11/29/3051
“Are you comfortable?” Diana sat opposite the ‘Mimir’ agent of station onboard Outpost’s Nadir transfer station. The light was blinding and although they were on a grav deck it was still only 0.5g due to the small size of the station.
“Besides my hands being cuffed behind me?”
“A necessary precaution.”
“No, I am used to being on the other side of the table. I did not help the Kell Hounds escape Elissa only to go into another cage. I was told this was the Free Rasalhague Republic.”
“Free of foreign influence but not free.”
“Sounds like false advertising.”
“Your Clans pose a dire threat to us.”
“I am aware, but I do not think you will be able to do much about it. Neither will I but I will not allow them to go unopposed. It is in my nature to fight, and we are on the same side now.”
The agent pulled up her information taken from the Kell Hounds, “That remains to be determined, Diana the Steel Viper.”
She glared at him, “Pryde.”
“What is it?”
“Diana Pryde, and I am Steel Viper no longer.”
“Then what are you?”
“I am Jade Falcon.”
-
Hollow as treason was, this was cooking in her for a long time and she just might have found her true calling.
“This is fun, want to continue? My quarters have plenty of room.”
Did Phelan become infectious?
-
Did Phelan become infectious?
Peri did basically double down on Mattlov brashness and well he is Kai Allard, basically a Bruce lee expy
-
If those two ever had kids - it would be scary.
-
Interlude | Conspiracy
(OOC: Imagine Split Screen)
08/16/3051
New Avalon/Capella
First Prince Ian Davion/ Chancellor Tormano Liao looked up from a desk full of papers from their various ministries to see representatives of Precentor-Advocate New Avalon Rosaline Mataraci / Precentor-Advocate Capella Jian Feng enter their offices. As the deputies of the Advocate-Precentors, they wore a platinum pendant handing from a delicate chain over white robes with gold and red stripes along the sides instead of the rich vermillion and gold of their superiors.
The Precentors gave a curt bow to the Successor Lord, “You summoned me.”
Each Successor Lord paused for a moment to read the body language of the Precentors who knew exactly why they were being summoned. However, COMSTAR trained their people well and they showed no sign of discomfort. Their masters reported directly to Primus Waterly, so nothing would break or betray a lifetime of indoctrination within the Blessed Order.
Both men stood and looked out the window over their capitals, “Why is it that the Blessed Order has redirected a third of the White Star fleet in my realm anti-Spinward?
There are not enough Outworlders to replace them so worlds will go without their normal trade. Stranded dropships or cargoes will be nothing but cost. Cost I will have to bear.”
A slight pause told volumes, “We are redirecting jumpship load. It is only a temporary measure, Your Highness/Celestial Wisdom.”
“How temporary?”
“Unknown.”
“Then how can I be certain that it is temporary?”
“You will have to trust us.”
Each of them nodded slightly before turning on their heels and approaching the Precentor. “I wish to issue a formal complaint to Primus Waterly. We have upheld our obligations to the Order and all our accounts are current. This is a breach of contract.”
Both Precentors tapped something into their comm-pads, “Your complaint has been logged; further information will be forwarded to you as it becomes available.”
“I will expect it promptly.”
“I cannot promise that Your Highness/Celestial Wisdom.”
They both paused and responded firmly, “I will expect it promptly.”
Then waved a hand laden with rings of gold and gemstones, “You are dismissed Precentor.”
The Deputy Precentor-Advocates bowed slightly and exited to be escorted out by the Huscarls/Hussars. First Prince Ian Davion/Chancellor Tormano Liao returned to the window. “Something is wrong and COMSTAR knows it.”
-
Chapter 6 – The Prophet
10/08/3051 | Botany Bay, Clan Occupied Space
High Visionary Egan Telosa was amazed at the skill in which Starship Pilot Grade XI Vaz ‘flew’ Amaru’s Bliss, a Monarch luxury liner in service to the One Star Faith, through the crowded space around Botany Bay’s Nadir. “How do you make sense of it all Vaz?”
The small man didn’t look away from his task keeping his hands tight on the toggle along with his co-pilot. “You just ride that radio beam, computer traffic control handles the rest.”
Their dropship passed within the shadow of an immense starship its flanks covered by bulbous dropships attached to it like barnacles on a great whale. Its gargantuan jumpsail sparkled in the light to their port and began to retract back into a cavernous bay under the close supervision of a shuttle. “What is that?”
“Potemkin Troop Cruisers. Those were our prime movers from our Homeworlds. Each one can garrison and easily support a Galaxy for months without resupply. Only eight survived over the years but they are all forward deploying to support our Touman.”
“Those are from the Exodus Fleet?”
“Vintage SLDF. The steel with their fleet registration numbers were removed and put behind glass to remember their history.”
“How much was left?”
“Of the Fleet?”
He nodded while Vaz continued, “Most of it was destroyed or damaged through our history. It took us generations to even approach this fleet and it is a pale shadow of the one our Great Father led all those years ago. Even the Second Exodus led by Nicholas was larger.”
“A Second Exodus?”
“Yes, some of our number rebelled against the Great Father’s wisdom, so his son fled to Strana Mechty and established the Clans to retake and secure his father’s legacy. All twenty original Clans worked together and were victorious.”
“I only know of six Clans. What happened to the other fourteen?”
“They were found unworthy, some faced righteous judgment for their transgressions. Others wisely saw their own shortcomings and joined to strengthen another Clan.”
Egan nodded, “A tragic loss.”
“Necessary cost to growth. If we had kept weakness around, we would not have returned to the Inner Sphere to restore the Star League under the ilKhan.”
Before them a magnificent battleship loomed surrounded by dozens of gunships, fighters, and dropships. Amaru’s Bliss slipped through the outer picket and picked up a Star of fighters as Vaz and his co-pilot spoke in staccato code. As they approached Egan saw the most curious thing, “Is that a tank on the hull?”
“Ay, the McKenna’s Pride and many of our old SLDF ships lacks good point defense. On each there is a Star of Hachiman tanks modified to crawl on the dorsal and ventral surfaces just in case of accidental weapons fire.”
“Fascinating.”
They continued their ongoing crash course on Clan Culture and Etiquette while waiting for the McKenna’s Pride to open the door to their docking collar. Egan Telosa had grown up in the Lyran Court but even their pleasantries paled in comparison to those of the Clans. As the INTELSTAR detachment that had joined them around Drask’s Den said, “When everyone is an armed Warrior, it is unwise to offend, unless otherwise.”
Two Elementals boarded first wearing Obsidian Black armor polished to a fine sheen. The lines on their equipment were curved rather than angular, more appropriate for ship corridors and they wore no insignia or nametag. INTELSTAR Analyst IX Suri whispered to him, “Those are members of the Ebon Keshik, the ilKhan’s bodyguard. Like us they have given up their Clan identity and personal glory in service to the whole.”
A woman followed shortly behind them, Vaz saluted, and Egan’s faithful bowed slightly following his cue. She had a softer look and moved with a Duchess’ practiced grace pulling an ermine lined but wavy half-cape beside her gray uniform trimmed a pair of black lines going for her epaulettes to her boots. “Greetings High Visionary Egan Telosa and his followers. I am Camille Devereaux, Khan of Clan Nova Fox. I understand you have been expecting us for centuries and I was willing to return the favor for at least hours.”
She approached him and walked between the Faithful lined up in neat rows before standing in front of him. Then whispered, “I would love to hear about these visions you have experienced young man.
My people have a long history with prophecy and while the others may dismiss it.
We respect gifts that we do not understand.”
Camille spoke up to the others, “Please follow me.” She looked to either side, “These men will ensure you do not get lost. A Warship is a dangerous place, watch your step.”
-
10/09/3051
High Visionary Egan Telosa glanced about at the unusual objects within this compartment, singing bowls, crystals cut to specific geometries, censors hanging from the ceiling, decks of cards, incense burners, and ceramic jars stuffed with aromatics, all the trappings of a tribal mystic onboard the SLS McKenna’s Pride.
A large woman with dark hair streaked with gray entered wearing robes with patches of it colored like the coat of a great plains cat, “I have seen you before.”
She sat cross-legged across from him on the plush colorful mats, “That seems unlikely High Visionary. I am Oathmaster Biccon Winters of Clan Nova Fox and I have never seen you before.”
“Yet it is true. Last week I had a vision in which I saw you.”
“Do tell.”
“I interpreted it that something you, Oathmaster Winters, were responsible for creating will rebel. A great hunter uncaged, that will one day soon prove their doubters wrong.
You are an Elemental, quiaff?”
“Aff.”
“Your last mission was the capture of Ironhold, quiaff?”
“Aff, before I became Oathmaster I was a Star Colonel in the Touman. One of the very few Elementals to earn that rank.”
“Because you possess what we call Fingerspitzengefühl, or a great intuition and awareness. In another life you would have been a renowned Warrior Queen leading great Warbands to victory. You know that to be true.
However, I saw you perched atop a stocky Mech, a…Kingfisher, in that final battle surveying the devastation and feeling a sense of loss.”
Oathmaster Winters retained a serene detachment, but Egan could see that something troubled her, “How do you see these things? And know what you do about us?”
Egan folded his arms into the sleeves of his robes, “Can you tell me how you see what you do? Or what granted you the knowledge to know that I speak the truth?”
“Neg.”
“Unfortunately, I cannot explain it either. It just is and comes and goes as it pleases.”
“Then we are equally cursed to see things that we cannot influence or understand until they appear.”
“Cassandra does indeed weep for us all Oathmaster.”
11/05/3051
Oathmaster Winters was coming out of meditation when her computer beeped, she crouch walked over to and sat over it in seiza style.
‘On 10-11-3051, Team Leader Diana, of the Steel Viper Watch, her team, and others have defected to the Inner Sphere, sabotaged the occupation forces on the planet Elissa, and escaped the system with Bondsmen from The Kell Hounds mercenary unit.
Due to the sensitivity of documents that even her low station was entrusted with, all operational plans are being revised and protocols enacted to protect operational security.
All Senior Officers and Overseers are to consult with Central Command, INTER-LOGI, and INTELSTAR for modifications.’
The Oathmaster pulled up the attached file on the freeborn Diana, saw the names of her parents, and pulled out a faded green and black Clan Jade Falcon patch still encrusted with flakes of gray earth from her vineer pouch. “Impossible.”
-
Isn't one of the lines in the Skippy's list: I am not allowed to end briefings with an ''as in accordance with the prophecy''? It feels oddly appropriate here, even if it would result in grievous bodily harm inflicted by an irate elemental.
-
Isn't one of the lines in the Skippy's list: I am not allowed to end briefings with an ''as in accordance with the prophecy''? It feels oddly appropriate here, even if it would result in grievous bodily harm inflicted by an irate elemental.
It is in the top ten and definitely. Honestly since the Trial to be Oathmaster is by un-augmented combat being an Elemental (or talented martial artist like Minoru) certainly has its advantages.
----
11/08/3051
“All hail Leo Showers! ilKhan of the Clans.”
Roared through the open flight bay as a dark skinned man with fierce eyes framed by tribal tattoos detailing his accolades in each swirl. His black mane swept with each movement of his head flaring out in microgravity as he appeared in the shuttle doors stepping down from the suspended shuttle to stand beside Elementals from his Ebon Keshik.
ilKhan Showers paused on the deck-plates and surveyed the crowd of almost three hundred saluting him aboard the Clan’s command ship, SLS McKenna’s Pride, who had turned out lining the catwalks above Flight Deck Four for a glimpse. Brightly colored guests stood alongside the dress grays of the Clan Naval Reserve.
Leo gestured firmly and turned to the aerial drones broadcasting his return to the remaining crew watching in one of the dozen galleys onboard that served the 2,298 personnel onboard consisting of ship’s crew, Senior Clan Staff including the Khans as well as support, medical, and security personnel.
“It is my honor to return to the McKenna’s Pride, the Flagship of our superior civilization, from time spent aboard the Quicksilver before its departure, and ours that we stand on the eve of our first major victory.
Tamar will soon be ours thanks to the skill and ferocity of Galaxy Commanders Aleksandr Jorgensson and Roberto Snuka. I look forward to congratulating them personally when they rotate back.
Its capture concludes the first wave of our glorious revival of the Star League.
As anticipated, the Inner Sphere’s forces crumble or cower beneath the combined might of our Clans.
It is only a matter of time until Tharkad and the rest of the Commonwealth are ours.”
Applause filled the hanger bay as he pushed off and into the battleship’s labyrinthine corridors.
Within ‘The New Ring’ as GravDeck Four was called Egan Telosa walked into an great (for a Warship) hall adorned with six podiums and nineteen hangings depicting fearsome beasts with a black stripe alongside all but six of them. A twentieth spot was set aside but empty for some reason and a Cameron Star was painted onto the deckplates with a large chair positioned at the longest end opposite him. Oathmasters Biccon Winters (Nova Fox), Laurie Tseng (Ghost Bear), Christopher Ahmed (Steel Viper), Chandra Mi-Ran (Mongoose), Katalina Sword (Hell’s Horses), and Baltazar Graves (Star Adder) waited behind their Clan’s podiums each one gray and grizzled by decades of service to their Clan. Many of them were the senior most active duty Warrior in the Touman although it was theoretically open to anyone that could win the special Melee.
As Winters had told them, with their Loremasters administering their Homeworlds and other occupied territories, each Clan’s Oathmasters, normally a ceremonial position, had taken their place as Counselors to the Khans, including ilKhan Leo Showers.
Leo Showers sat with his stance firmly forward within the chair as the door closed behind him and his escorts took their place next to their brothers and sisters of the Ebon Keshik. He tapped his fingers on his thighs before standing and walking into the center. Then he looked up at the holographic projection above him studying the patterns of clusters, jumpship convoys, and warship squadrons in transit or upon contested and occupied worlds from the Hanseatic League to Tamar each glittering like stars in the night sky.
“Oathmaster Winters tells me you have a unique gift High Visionary.”
“Even I was surprised ilKhan.” Egan looked aside and gestured as if to banish an unseen miasma.
“To think that anyone would seek to break faith with her people. It is hard to fathom.”
“Indeed, it has proven a minor inconvenience, but one we shall overcome.” He looked back at him with a terrifying glare, his eyes filled with power accented by the sharp shadows cast on him from the projection above.
“I do not put as much faith in auguries and astrology as she does, but I wished to ask for myself before sending you home.
Have you seen anything of me.”
“I have.” The Oathmasters looked toward one another speaking to one another in hushed barely audible tones.
“Is that so?”
“Indeed.”
“Tell us what you have seen then, if only to sate my curiosity.”
“I see you, the ilKhan caught in a battle between dark and light.
Your end will come from neither man nor machine but from your own shadow.”
“Neither man nor machine will kill me?” Leo laughed, “My own shadow will be my undoing?” He looked behind him, “How intriguing. I shall have to keep eyes on you, rascal.
Have you further detail High Visionary? About the threat my own shadow poses.”
“Neg, I never inquire upon my visions. Nor would I dismiss them, no matter how outlandish.
I would not have been on Elissa to await your arrival if I had.”
“Very intriguing. I should like to keep you on hand if only for the entertainment value. However, I would rather have Illusha’s Vipers in the field rather than upon Elissa. I trust you can manage with some help from INTER-LOGI?”
High Visionary Telosa bowed deeply, “My fleet, flock, and people are at your service ilKhan. We only wish to continue our work. However, for that we will need an HPG to evangelize your ways to our people.”
“I may be able to manage it. Until then I shall dismiss you and bid you good fortune.”
“Thank you ilKhan. If you need anything of us, merely ask.”
Egan departed the door opened by the Ebon Keshik. Leo faced the gathered Oathmasters and Scribes, “Get Elissa an HPG. It is a gap in our network and if this High Visionary has any urgent ‘visions’ then we should want to hear about it.”
Chandra spoke up, “With respect ilKhan, surely you do not also believe in this soothsayer.” Then stared across the star at her Nova Fox counterpart, “The fact that we entertain Biccon is madness enough.”
“Oathmaster Winters has good intuition, some may call it prophecy. At any rate I should not want to earn her ire Oathmaster Mi-Ran lest she take offense and defend her faith in the mystical arts within a Circle of Equals.
As I mentioned, Elissa is a gap in our network, that is reason enough to plug it with a mobile unit.
This High Visionary has followers throughout the Lyran Commonwealth and according to reports from INTELSTAR even the Archon listens to him. If we give him a platform it might make our conquest easier and more palatable to the conquered”
Oathmaster Graves joined in, “I dislike this ilKhan, while I do not believe in the High Visionary’s prophecies giving him a platform might allow him an opportunity to transmit information in coded language. If Archon Steiner listens to him then they must have some manner of relationship.
As COMSTAR has shown us secrets can be transmitted in the open through coded language. We lack an understanding of this One Star Faith’s dogma.
Already we have leaks and troubles with operational security by failing to completely muzzle COMSTAR on occupied worlds. Giving the One Star Faith their own HPG could further exacerbate our struggles as there might still be COMSTAR operatives capable of using an HPG on-world.”
“It will be under the control of INTELSTAR Baltazar. We will leave a security detachment behind. As previously reported ROM successfully murdered their Alpha Branch personnel to deny their HPG transmitter to our cause. As they have done on multiple occasions.
Fortunately, we have the depot ships and their shipboard HPGs to fill in the gaps.”
Graves and Mi-Ran stood there in silence for a moment, “If it is your will to send an HPG to Elissa then so be it. We have given our counsel.”
Leo looked over to the side, “Good, Scribe transmit that a mobile HPG shall be delivered to Elissa by INTELSTAR with due haste.” The woman typed something out onto her comm-pad which would be batched with the next transmission of the McKenna’s Pride’s own HPG.
“Now onto the next order of business. What we have in store for the LCAF.”
-
I have a feeling that position of ilKhan carries more weight here than OTL.
-
I mean you heard how many freeborn are in the Touman, there are a third more Trueborn. Leo has more than a hundred million Clan Warriors of varying subcastes to manage through his Khans while the SaKhans manage tens of millions through theirs and the Loremasters and subordinate Factors and Overseers administer billions.
-
Interlude – Last Stand at Hue
09/08/3051 | Outside Hue City, Kowloon, Lyran Commonwealth
“There are too many.”
Kapiten-Liaison Andrew Steiner whispered to himself within his Banshee 7S as he could see the clouds of dust that followed in the wake of Clan Mongoose’s 45th Striker Irregulars. What remained of Green Machine formed up into a defensible perimeter after their flight from HQ with woods on one side and a river on the other. Their ammunition supply was critical and no mech had escaped the powerful weapons of these strange invaders. He had thought they were just pirates, but they had decimated the Regiment, overtaken their defenses, and showed no sign of stopping. If anything, they sped up until they gave the survivors a ‘sporting’ hourlong head start before setting off like track sprinters when time elapsed.
What had been identified as a ‘Shadow Cat’ with the MechWarrior’s ‘Batchall’ crested a hill followed by others, tan and icy blue ‘Pack Hunters’ and ‘Arctic Cheetahs’ as they were identified. Each one of the designs were spindly and narrow providing little surface area to target and looked more like Aerospace Fighters than Battlemechs, they moved just the same as well, like a flock of fast birds. ‘Elementals’ detached from their flanks landing gracefully onto the grass. Hover skirts from ‘LTV-14’ tanks bloomed out over the river that he had hoped would shield his flank.
“Time is up. Kapiten Steiner.”
“I see you have brought new friends Star Captain Cage.”
Greta Cage’s voice came over the speaker, their daunting foe had nevertheless given them an hour head start before she would pursue and had handily done so with her blazingly fast machines. “I brought these Warriors at the insistence of my Star Colonel. It should take nothing more than my Binary to finish this. He disagreed and insisted I keep the cutdown.”
Andrew looked around at the damaged machines that formed his last combat units. “By Trial you mean the destruction of my Battalion?”
“If necessary.
You could always surrender and become bondsmen. That would be less wasteful.
Running is after all not an option.”
“I refuse. It is my duty to protect the Lyran Commonwealth from all invaders. I will not run or surrender while I still can fight.”
“Perhaps your men disagree.”
There as a long pause while the Mongoose Clan Warriors waited at the hill, Greta Cage was now broadcast to the whole command. “Green Machine, you have one last choice, power your machine down to surrender and become a bondsman of Clan Mongoose or prepare to fight to the death.
You have five minutes to decide.”
-
Interlude – The Horsemen
09/12/3051 | Barcelona, Lyran Commonwealth
Star Colonel Solomon ‘Shaker’ Seidman crawled into his Rhino battlesuit with his fellow Elementals as the 333rd Mechanized Strike Cluster approached Barcelona. Though he couldn’t feel it the fuselage below him was warming with the heat of reentry. Beside him was a Star of Conjurers each one primed for a combat drop onto the Hell’s Horses first soon to be conquered territory.
The Broadsword’s Captain linked into the drop bay’s PA. “Triple Three, prepare for drop. Our Fighter Binary has suppressed Seventeenth Skye’s Aerospace. You will be first to clear the way Star Colonel.”
Each of the Elementals clanged their claws and laser onto their breastplates to fill the drop bay with noise as each gave their own war shout within their helmets just as they would haka before a Trial. Solomon felt the energy now and wind rushed into the drop bay as hatches opened beneath them to reveal a great expanse of wasteland from which shattered spires burst forth from the ground like ribs, as if the world itself had been flayed. ‘Mariah’s Pinnacle,’ built by The Usurper's empire was now the Spheroid's last redoubt hoping to halt Beta Galaxy Hell’s Horses impending stampede.
He reached up to release himself and his suit was the first out of the Broadsword as promised, his drogue chute deployed pulling taut but holding his 1.5-ton mass upright so the jump jets could do the rest. Soon he was joined by the rest of his Command Trinary, his fellow Elementals in battlesuits of varying configuration, Conjurer and Shadow Cat Battlemechs all fell amidst the Binaries of Fighters diving down to strafe enemy positions before they could fire upon the dropships on final approach that would provide the main combat strength of SaKhan Tanya DeLaurel's Galaxy.
His jump jets flared as his computer determined the optimal deceleration curve that would be survivable to the heavy, tough, and inhumanely strong soldier within. One bred over centuries to be the perfect soldier. He felt the rush of battle fill him as he crashed onto the ground, right in the middle of a Skye Ranger’s fighting position. The men looked up from their recoilless rifle at the sudden appearance of the monstrous gray battlesuit with a fiery horse's head upon its chest.
As the suit stood to its full height Solomon could feel terror building in the hearts of his opponents. One of the men squeaked out something before his suit’s claw, each of its three tines capable of shredding armor plating by itself, lifted him to the visor plate. He desperately tried to escape the Elemental’s grasp as his companions scattered into the ruins. “What are you?”
“A Hell's Horseman”
-
One hell of a way to get introduced to the concept of battle armor.
-
Interlude – Change of Management
09/04/3051 | Kolovraty, Lyran Commonwealth
A Hanseatic League Beacon dropship drifted on the chill night breeze landing on the runway of the Paxton City Starport with great curls of smoke as its brakes engaged. The lights of the Baxter Metals Foundry that powered the town physically and economically glimmered nearby across the benighted scrubs of this rocky desert steppe. On the ground a small team of Starport staff waved it toward the industrial terminal backed by dozens of large warehouses.
Within the terminal the Beacon shut down, dropped its side ramp, and a small group of men wearing goldenrod uniforms disembarked. Port crews arrived with heavy trucks laden with hydroformed car bodies, I-beams, and rebar rods. Their portly crew chief walked up to the slender, small man with the helmet marked ‘Captain’ who held his hand within his jacket on which was stenciled ‘Leroux, A’ and a pin with a strange foxlike creature. The crew chief paid it little attention. Who knew what the League was into besides guild politics, smuggling, and trafficking.
“You’re late. We expected you weeks ago.”
“There were complications and we needed to swing by Botany Bay first.”
“For what?”
The Captain looked around taking in the functional emptiness of the industrial terminal. “Supplies and a fresh Cargo.”
“We’ve got enough obsidian for our needs, but I know you guys do a circuit. Heading to Sigurd soon?”
Captain Leroux looked around to his people as some more descended the steps. “We were thinking more internal.”
“Make sure all your paperwork is clear, here on the border things are different than in the Core.”
“Of course. We appreciate the warning.”
“Well, you are here now. COMSTAR has been acting kinda weird lately, but you paid Baxter in advance for this cargo so it’s all good. Can you drop the ramp?”
“Certainly.”
As the Beacon’s ramp lowered it revealed columns of soldiers, some equipped with light vehicles and others on foot but all armed. They rushed forward to take control of the drivers so quickly that they had no time to do anything but put their hands up. Captain Leroux held his formerly concealed pistol to the Crew Chief’s head and his nearest companions did the same to those nearby. They immediately dropped their clipboards and computers to raise their hands in surrender.
Their lighter vehicles rode off to the Baron’s Manor and Foundry with great speed, each one of the bikes and skimmers carrying two heavily equipped soldiers. Heavier equipment was being dragged down the ramp by the ship’s crew. Mechs, tanks, and airplanes of the type that they had never seen before but seemed strangely familiar.
“Who are you?
What are you doing?”
“We are Clan Nova Fox, and we are instituting a change in management.”
-
Subterfuge??? In MY Clan Invasion!?
Seriously though, cool to see the different Clans bringing different approaches and strategies to the game.
-
With Kai not saddled with crippling self doubt, Phelan being more of Phelan and Diane turning coat, Clans had to be turned up a notch. And boy did AM turn them up.
-
We are just getting started to. This is the Clan's on easy mode.
Chapter 7 – The Commandant
07/08/3051 | Somerset, Lyran Commonwealth
A young man with a sharp pressed white and blue uniform complete with a polished steel helmet topped with a plume of red feathers and a saber at his hip stood at the foot of the stairway leading to a Monarch dropship, the LCN Respite. “Cadets, Attention!”
“Ja Kommandant!” Echoed out from the formally dressed soldiers lining the carpeted pathway with rifles at their side as the band played behind them filling the area with music. Each of them raised their hand in salute as a distinguished and well-dressed woman walked toward the vessel beneath the eyes of the Somerset Military Academy Cadets, Cadre, and Staff while their battlemechs stood behind them oversized robotic hands locked in the ‘salute’ sub-routine.
Duchess Anette Steiner paused at the base of the steps and looked over to the officer in charge. Her muted but elegant dress rustling at the abrupt stop. “This was unnecessary son, but I appreciate the effort you put into it.”
Hauptmann Adam Steiner waited until she formally saluted him before he let his hand down to a well-practiced Nagelring rest. “It’s good practice. Now they know why I make them do parade marches around the courtyard. We only break out the dress whites for weddings and funerals on Somerset.”
“And seeing me off to Tharkad.”
“You will be serving on the Estates General for a year. You deserve a regal send-off.”
“Thank you, Adam. It made me feel special. I will miss Somerset while I am away.
Any last minute concerns before I depart?”
He ducked his head slightly, his helmet’s chin strap riding his jaw to much while erect. “No bride shopping Mother. Andrew and I can manage on our own.”
Anette chucked “I’m not even off-world yet and you are already setting terms. Somerset will be in good hands for certain while I am away.” Then gave a subtle curtsy, “I will temper my search Adam for I shall be busy on Tharkad. Making sausages out of the organs of government.
However, should a charming young lady present herself I can offer no guarantees.”
“Will Walter be joining you on Tharkad?”
“Perhaps, for a time. Why?”
“He’s a good man. I’d hate for you to be alone.
Last time you were on Tharkad things did not go so well.”
“That’s not true. It gave me you.”
She leaned in to embrace him and give him a kiss goodbye to the minor surprise of those gathered. However, they kept silent and at attention. “Goodbye Son.
If you need anything, I am your representative on Tharkad and mother always.”
“Goodbye Mom. I wish you safe travels and a speedy return.”
The assembled crowd remained there until the Monarch leapt into the clear blue sky filled with sunshine and marching music. Adam’s Aide'de'Camp addressed him to break the tension, “Where to now Lord Commandant?”
Adam Steiner walked through the crowd which folded neatly into columns behind him and toward the Starport shuttle buses and their other equipment. He swapped the ornamental helmet for his Defiance 3S7’s neurohelmet, the latest from Doering Electronics, then unfastened his cape to wrap a cooling vest over his formal blouse. “Back to Somerport and the Academy.
You still have the same amount of work to do today, and I have more.
Break time is over Cadets.”
-
We'll see if Adam can give them tougher fight on his home turf.
-
09/10/3051
Somerport nestled itself along both banks of the Holly river as a COMSTAR shuttle landed on the Somerset Military Academy’s airfield taxiing past training planes toward the main hangers. A fireteam of CSC Espatiers disembarked from the shuttle with their laser rifles slung over the shoulder. One of them directed a white minibus, noticeably absent of insignia, using a flashlight as it backed down the steep ramp shortly after.
Demi-Precentor Narendra Varga followed it down, “You five stay with the Shuttle. I will go and collect our holdouts.” The Espatiers nodded, unslung their rifles, and donned the multifunction optic headset that both allowed them to see in the dark and not go blind from laser scatter.
The bus drove quiet and dark through the vacant streets of Somerport toward COMSTAR’s grange house/satellite office just outside of town. This Grange was like others of its type, found in light industrial areas just out of town due to their antennae masts and similar aerials, providing telecommunications, co-generation options, and backup power for crucial infrastructure in smaller cities. Its office was staffed and lit 24/7 for any that needed access to the Order’s expansive services.
Narendra entered the building to see the technological baubles meant to awe and impress the simple minded and distract the strong willed dark. Two dozen Adepts and Acolytes waited in the lobby with large bags at their feet. A female Adept stepped forward and exchanged the standard pleasantries. “We need more time to secure everything Demi-Precentor.”
“Everything important has already been secured Sister Carol. Our time is short.
We must urgently evacuate to protect our Order’s secrets and people.”
They looked aside then at their feet, “Then they are here already?”
“We detected their jumpship’s emergence signature two days ago, yesterday we confirmed it. It is only a matter of time until these Invaders make planetfall.”
A young Acolyte balled his fist and stared at the Demi-Precentor, “What of the people of Somerset?”
The Demi-Precentor shook his head, “We cannot help them but neither will we aid the enemy. Primus Waterly is aware and the COMGuards and Space Command are mobilizing from across the Inner Sphere.”
Carol looked around at her people, “Where are we going Demi-Precentor?”
“Odessa for sorting and redistribution. Many ships are already en route. Everything beyond that is up to the LCAF and ComGuards.”
Tauton Starport sprawled beyond the planetary capital, two Beacon dropships of the COMSTAR White Star Merchant fleet sat ready on the tarmac. PEX-A Exoskeletons pulled carefully packed ergonomic unit containers, the most valuable of COMSTAR’s computer, electronic, and HPG components, while numerous light gray clad personnel picked up smaller crates on pallets placed just outside.
Adept Carol and the others walked up the ramp to see the expansive cargo bays of these planetary lighters filled with their fellow COMSTAR personnel from across the world each of whom gave her grim looks as they carried their small containers under the direction of the CSC Ship’s Crew to their storage. With her people collected the White Star Captain gave the order to prepare for takeoff Espatiers and Crew began directing the faithful to their SCEM bunk, a shipping container modified to support a dozen people as comfortably as if they were berthed as part of a ship’s contingent.
She lingered as the door closed and Somerset’s sun rose over the horizon. “We will return. I am certain of it.
Stand fast Somerset, and sorry.”
-
Good planning on their part!
-
Good planning on their part!
Being prepared for interdictions or large transfers of personnel is SOP for COMSTAR. They can move mountains given enough time and money.
----
(Military Education) Hauptmann Adam Steiner jogged on the quiet streets of Somerport through the pre-dawn twilight with his hi-viz vest on and into a group of cadets milling just outside the barracks. They turned to and saluted him before Lieutenant Rachel Spector of LCAF MI stepped to the front. “Adam, what are you going to do?”
He rubbed his hand through his brown hair and looked around to see an increasing number of cadets awake and active in their combat uniforms rather than PT long before revelry. “About?”
“COMSTAR.”
Adam furrowed his brow, “Lieutenant, how about we talk in my office?”
The pair were followed by eyes until the Commandant Office’s door closed behind him and a pair of MPs took up station beside it. Adam paced the room and peered through the blinds to see more cadets crowded outside. “You shouldn’t call me by my first name in public, Rachel.”
A chair was pulled out for her as he sat behind the desk. Growing light illuminated her finer features but revealed a look of concern. “I apologize Lord Steiner. However, I don’t think our relationship will be the thing that sinks your reputation, especially on a planet like Somerset.”
“If you weren’t from here, I would take that as an insult.”
She nervously ran her left hand through her hair, “We both know how Tharkad feels about us, but COMSTAR has abandoned Somerset."
"How do you know?"
"Lea says Tauton HPG has been evacuated. We can still track the White Star Beacon planetary lighters that left Hollyfield hours ago with the tower, but civilian communications are becoming unreliable. It’s going to be chaos unless we can come up with a workaround.”
“There has been no reason for them to order an interdiction or pull out our Starlift capacity. Without those lighters we only have the Academy’s Union on world for heavy lift. For as much as my granduncle and Mother have invested into infrastructure there are few rails and roads between our towns.
Precentor Lamberti and I were on good terms just last week. He said they were even upgrading our systems, that there might be a minor disruption. What could have happened?”
“Something must have spooked them.
Adam, when I heard COMSTAR left last night I checked out the long range IR array. After some computer reprocessing, I think we might have picked up a faint KF emergence signature.”
“Dracs? Pirates?”
“I don’t know, COMSTAR wouldn’t be spooked by some pirates or Dracs though. Not that anyone would risk it after your brother’s campaign against the Greater Valkyrate.”
“He sure got results. I don’t know who we are fighting.
I can only tell everyone that we will manage somehow until I have more information.”
The room’s command console came to life to their surprise. “Incoming Radio transmission from CSA Meng Ajete.”
“Be careful what you ask for Adam.”
Adam walked over to the command console and opened the file, a hologram of graying man with intense eyes and a uniform that looked like a historical holovid of the SLDF appeared. “Decadent Noble Ruler of Somerset I am Star Colonel Seth Irons, Commander of the Seventy Third Cavaliers of Clan Star Adder.
We are two days out from your planet and thus this transmission begins my formal batchall for the planet Somerset and its people. As such it contains my force composition and our protocol for the ritual of a Trial of Possession.
Name yourself and transmit with what forces you shall defend?”
They opened the attached document which detailed the commanders of the 73rd Cavalier and which units they commanded. Rachel read faster than him, “This 'Cluster' is basically a miniature RCT Adam. We can’t fight them off with the Milita and Training Battalion.”
He read more into the actual ritual rules and found them enlightening, “We might not have to though Rachel. I think I can do it with my dirty dozen and hide everyone else, just in case.”
“You’re crazy Adam. Half of them came off Blackjack, Solaris, or Galatea.”
Beside them the printer spat out the detailed reports of his enemy, “Exactly the kind of people I need for a mission where we are outnumbered and fighting unknown foes.
I can’t refuse an enemy that gives me all the ammunition I need against them and lets me choose the field of battle.” He picked up one of the printouts with a smile on his face, “COMSTAR might have been spooked but I have a plan.”
Before the sun set on Somerport Star Colonel Seth Irons waited with his hands behind his back aboard the Command Overlord IIC CSA Meng Ajete. A hologram of a young man with brown hair and a warrior’s look appeared before his subordinate officers within the briefing chamber. “This is Lord Commandant Adam Steiner, the planetary ruler of Somerset, and Trainer of its Warriors. He has answered our batchall bidding an SLDF standard Company of Battlemechs, ‘and what they carry,’ against us.”
Each of the four subordinate officers peered at the hologram and one another. A woman with platinum blonde hair and piercing blue eyes spoke out, “Only a Company? Sending a complete Cluster to this world was a waste of our limited assets Star Colonel.”
“Not according to the pirates of Gotterdammerung Star Captain Kerensky. Adam’s trothkin Andrew succeeded in defeating them outnumbered two to one and with little damage to his unit.”
“They were stravag freeborn bandits Star Colonel. We cut through others with less than a Star.”
“Precisely why the cutdown for this Trial is a Binary.”
She stood up to walk over to and lean into the Star Colonel. Waving her hands at the gathered MechWarriors all of whom were from Clans other than Star Adder except for Irons. “You think we are such inferior Warriors that we must match them almost one to one.”
“If you wish to bid lower than do so when your turn comes up.” Seth leaned back into her, lowered his voice, and glowered toward her. “Until then sit down Katya, or you will again face the lash for your insubordinate behavior.”
Katya Kerensky returned to her seat beside the other Star Commanders and Captains of the 73rd. Adam’s form was replaced by a holographic representative of their respective Binaries. “Warriors of Clan Star Adder according to our rites you are to bid, and I shall determine which force shall take on the Inner Sphere for the glory and honor of our Clan.
The cutdown for this Trial is a Binary. Raise your hands if your bid is lower.”
Hands were raised until two remained at Seven Points, between Katya Kerensky and Shane Yeh. “Any bids below Seven Points Star Captains?”
“I can win this trial with Five Points Star Colonel and three of those shall be Battle Cobras.”
Shane let his hand down, and the Star Commanders glared at her. “That is madness Star Captain. Even with your overinflated view of yourself you must realize that such an endeavor borders on recklessness.
Your glory hounding could upset the whole invasion. Imagine if we lost to the Inner Sphere because of some Ristar’s Pride. We would become a laughingstock.”
They stood then stanced up to one another, “My bid stands unless you intend to do something about it Shane. I can take this Adam Steiner outnumbered and outgunned because we are Clan, and our cause is just.”
Seth Irons raised his hand, “If you are so confident in your abilities Star Captain Kerensky, I will grant you the opportunity to see if you are truly as skilled as you believe yourself to be.
Your Binary shall take on these Somerset Strikers, and you shall take the whole Binary.” He stepped into the holographic projection cone toward her, “Even if you only engage half of them. Just in case.
Go prepare yourself Warriors. The day after tomorrow will be the first in many glorious days leading to the REVIVAL of the Star League under the ilKhan.”
Each of them turned to face the Cameron Star and plaque holding ‘General Order 137’ that adorned the briefing and ward rooms of every Clan Installation and Vessel.
“Seyla!”
-
Guess she lacks the Kerensky Vision also.
-
So we have two cases of Star Colonels insisting on cutdown be kept. Does this mean that TTL clans have standardized training for their senior officers instead of just letting them to learn it all on the job?
-
I imagine the Star Adders at least will have standardized and mandatory officer seminars for everyone who qualifies. Perhaps its even included in their basic training, at least the general principals.
-
More details of the intimate lives of Clan officers will come soon. For now though
Batchall
Somerset Strikers
Heavy Lance (Commander by Lord Commandant Adam Steiner)
Defiance DFN-3S7, 75t | Archer ARC-4X, 70t | Thunderbolt TDR-9S+, 65t | Thunderbolt TDR-5D+, 65t |
Medium Lance (Commanded by Captain Valten Ryder)
Enfield END-6J, 50t | Hunchback HBK-4J+, 50t
Shadow Hawk SHD-2Hb, 55 ton | Shadow Hawk SHD-2M, 55t
Scout Lance (Commanded by Captain Ciro Ramirez)
Phoenix Hawk PXH-3S, 45t | Firestarter, FS9-A, 35t
Commando COM-2D+, 25t | Hermes II HRM-2S+, 40t
Total Tonnage – 630 tons + ‘What they can carry’
Average Tonnage – 52.5
Prime Binary, 73rd Adder Cavaliers
Red Star (Commanded by Star Captain Katya Kerensky)
Sidewinder, 75t | Hellfire, 60t | 3xBattle Cobra, 40t
Blue Star (Commanded by Star Commander Presley)
2xShadow Cat, 45t | 2xThresher, 60t | Hellbringer, 60t
Total Tonnage – 525 tons
Average Tonnage – 52.5
-
Can't wait to see what they will carry.
-
09/12/3051
CSA Meng Ajete landed near the desolate land of white and green that is Somerset’s North Country. Snow evaporated in great gouts of steam beneath its thrusters. Meltwater began turning to ice as dark colored mechs trimmed with crimson stepped over it. Flurries fell from an iron gray sky as they walked through the pine forest occasionally crashing down a young tree forcing its pilot to balance themselves and check their footing.
Their Circle of Equals appeared in augmented reality on Katya’s HUD visor. She clutched her control stick and tapped out commands on the multifunction display secure in her command chair. Her blonde hair peeking out from the helmet. “Blue Star shall remain outside the Circle of Equals until I call for them, as instructed.”
A request for a private channel appeared on her display as Presley’s Hellbringer shifted to stand beside her. “You have your orders, Commander.”
“I know Captain Kerensky, but if we remain outside the Circle we cannot quickly come to your aid. Adam Steiner has chosen a long but narrow valley as our trial grounds.”
“Which will negate his larger unit. This Adam Steiner will be quickly destroyed, and I shall emerge victorious.”
“It will mean nothing of the sort, it will allow him to focus his fire on your Mechs, but if you insist my Star shall remain outside the Circle.
However, if I see that you are struggling, it is my Warrior duty to engage and defeat these Somerset Strikers. It is not only your honor at stake. Here you are a representative of Clan Star Adder.”
Katya Kerensky’s Sidewinder stepped through the barrier and into the Circle of Equals followed closely by the rest of her Star. “I am here Adam Steiner. Let this Trial begin.”
Adam’s face appeared on her channel, “It’s not too late Katya Kerensky. You can still lift off and spare yourself.”
She chuckled within her cockpit, “I do not think that will be necessary Lord Commandant Steiner. However, I shall extend the same courtesy to you. Final option to surrender.”
“Rejected. If you want Somerset. You will have to go through us first, Kerensky.”
As the pines became denser Katya’s Red Star powered up their jump jets and leapt over them. Each hop brought them deeper into the forest and closer to battle. “With pleasure.”
A MechWarrior called out “Contact!” on the battlenet as dozens of rockets launched from the forest in volleys staggering the lumbering Hellfire until it collapsed in the snow with critical structures exposed to the elements. Stray rockets splintered pines while smoke drifted away to reveal the humanoid shapes of the Somerset Strikers’ Scout lance hiding between the trees.
Other Warriors panicked leaping away from the Battlemechs and the smoking cylinders they carried while her weapons dropped the Firestarter before it could come into range to threaten her with its weapons. The light Battlemech’s flamers still glowed but the flames were unfocused, enough to char trees but not enough to set them ablaze in the wintery conditions.
The Scout Lance withdrew deeper into the forest as Katya’s knuckles went white wrapped around her control sticks as she looked at the shattered Hellfire. “Savashri.”
Presley’s voice filled her neurohelmet, “One mech down on either side. You are doing splendid Star Captain.”
“Stay outside the Circle Commander, as ordered.”
With a flick of a switch the open band within the Battlenet came alive, “Hold your nerve, Warriors!”
“They ambushed us Star Captain.”
“That just means this is now a Grand Melee and we shall remain alert to more traps.”
“We did not bring active probes to search out hidden Mechs.”
Her battlemech’s sensors flashed a rough outline of their path before they disappeared into the endless green and gray. “Then we must use regular sensors.”
Red Star bounded through the pines to see the Somerset Strikers gathered in a loose arc on a ridge. Missiles arced toward the Star Adders as orange explosions erupted behind them. Katya’s Sidewinder shuddered as enough missiles found their mark. A panicked MechWarrior screamed as her Battle Cobra was engulfed in air sensitive inferno gel. Splattered gel set one of the Icepines alight with an explosion of pine resin, the sputtering liquid expanded the area of effect.
“You are fine MechWarrior; it is just fire. You are in an Omnimech.”
Constantly jumping caused her shots to veer wildly as she fought the Strikers and her own inferior position within this tinderbox. Mountain winds howled spreading flames that threatening to slow Blue Star’s response even further while blowing the smoke into her forces. Her own options were greatly diminishing, the Binary’s normally energy heavy pod mix had seemed an advantage in the cold but now with the Circle of Equals transformed into a conflagration it was a greater liability.
An unusual Battlemech, identified as the Defiance, which looked like a deformed Marauder started down the ridge. It’s feet snapped blazing fallen logs like toothpicks. Two Thunderbolts and what they called an Enfield followed him down into the forest. “Things getting a little hot down there Katya?”
She dispatched the summon order for the rest of the Binary, Glory shared was better than defeat. Her Mech systems informed her that the temperature was rising in the cramped cockpit but not enough to explain the sweat she felt fathering on her headband as fired toward the supporting arms that remained on the exposed ridge. An HBK-4J lost its footing and teetered backward under her assault slightly diminishing the constant hail of missiles. Katya leapt onto a rocky rise just ahead of the smoke that trailed behind her.
“You think this phases me Adam? Our home worlds are no strangers to wildfires, and I have fought on many of them.”
“Well, that’s too bad because I’ve fought on Somerset, in this particular valley many times.” The Defiance and Adam’s ad hoc Lance peeked their heads above the woods toward her, “enough that I know that rise is not natural.”
His rotary autocannons and PPCs fired at the stones beneath her feet. Boulders shattered beneath her Mech’s mass and under fire. The sudden fall caused her to lose balance and the Sidewinder slid down far enough that she hit her head hard enough to see stars and taste metal in her mouth. Although dazed for a moment she forced her Sidewinder out of the rubble as Blue Star joined the fray and the last Battle Cobras succumb to the never ending barrage trading themselves for the Scout Lance.
-
Information is ammunition...
-
Star Adders and Somerset Strikers exchanged fire through the blazing pine forest, the TDR-5D's Pontiac 100 thundered splintered trees before slamming into a Thresher knocking it back on its heels. Sleek Shadow Cats leapt above the rocks using their mobility to flank the Strikers lead Lance but felt the sting of rockets from the ARC-4X and HBK-5J. Their forward progress was blocked by the Shadow Hawk and Griffin which joined them on the saddle where they exchanged magnesium bright gauss fire, whistling LBX sub-munitions, and hyper-accelerated particles to ablate and shatter the armored chassis.
Beneath them the pair of Threshers and Presley’s Hellbringer walked forward through the cleared area keeping the flames and smoke to their sides. Explosions erupted from the ground, “Mines! Like some dezgra bandit!”
Adam’s Defiance strode through the flames his rotary autocannon firing intermittently in conjunction with the particle beams from his arm mounted weapons. Katya couldn’t believe the machine as heavy as her own could move that fast, “His Defiance moves at the speed of a Timber Wolf, impossible. There was nothing in the intelligence about this level of technology.”
“Those are vibrobombs Commander Presley. Tuned to your mech’s mass and delivered courtesy of Fagan’s Archer. Very expensive, but worth it because of this.”
To her surprise Adam’s Defiance kicked the Thresher’s leg bending the stumpy, previously solid limb with a single strike of its stout leg, power that not even a Blood Asp could match. Its pilot barely managed to keep the machine upright. The Thresher threatened to wobble and fall on the exposed, misaligned actuators. Crunching metal could be heard over the roar of the flames that surrounded her.
“You dare to engage us in Melee MechWarrior.”
“Why?
Are you Clanners so afraid to get your hands dirty?
This whole machine is my weapon. I will use it to the fullest.”
Adam moved beyond it toward Presley’s Hellbringer as her Mech took more fire from the Thunderbolts. She dodged a shot from the TDR-5D’s Pontiac 100 which shattered stone and splintered wood behind her. Her Sidewinder paid for it as missiles struck her from above slamming into the upper torsos and damaging her missile rack’s covers.
Their Enfield leapt forward to engage the hobbled Thresher, its lasers and cluster munitions impacted the machine causing it to fall into a copse of blazing fallen trees that seemed eerily like a pyre. One fortunately unable to cremate its pilot as long they stayed inside their cockpit. However, the Enfield received the injured machine’s full payload causing it to lose power and land face first, burying itself in the baked dirt.
Katya’s Sidewinder juked away from the TDR-5D and its heavy autocannon toward the TDR-9S and opened fire. Its Anti-Missile System came alive shredding some of her missiles with its precision flak rounds. Her Gauss Rifle smashed, and her Pulse Laser melted armor over the heavyweight classic. It toppled over landing on its back and didn’t rise.
She wiped her forehead but still felt sweat pooling on her headband although the cockpit temperature still registered within normal limits. “Thank the Great Father for a lucky break.”
Presly and Adam were engaged in a fearsome duel that was going poorly for her subordinate and his Hellbringer while the TDR-5D was presently engaged with the remaining Thresher. Above her the Shadow Cats neutralized or bypassed the enemy by engaging their MASC systems to sprint along the ridge and into close range.
Irritatingly this Archer 4X seemed almost as capable as her when firing its missiles at close range, further showing that the Inner Sphere was not nearly as backward as their sources claimed. Nevertheless, they drew the Striker’s Fire Support Duo to them giving her and the others relief from their unending hail of missiles. The Shadow Hawk lifted itself up on a mangled arm and leg to limp toward its companions firing its autocannon at the extreme of its range.
“I require assistance Star Captain. Adam Steiner’s Mech just seems to get stronger the hotter it becomes and many of my sub-systems have suffered damage from his missiles, which have somehow penetrated my armor.”
Inside Star Captain Kerensky seethed, was their intelligence so poor on these Spheroids that they were more than a match in a peer to peer competition. If so, the Clans could never stop. They would have to take the whole of the Inner Sphere. Quickly too before more of these MechWarriors and their somehow equivalent machines could be mobilized against them. It would make it easier to convert the Lyran industries to their war effort however and the foresight of the Khans to choose this target was validated.
“I am en route to engage him, Presley. Keep moving and draw him further from his support.”
Having seen what happened when the Defiance came in close her subordinate was unable to fully leverage his machine’s firepower to maintain mobility in the face of the Spheroids’ assault. Presley backpedaled through the burning forest followed closely behind by the Defiance. She leapt over the canopy to track his progress and get a bead on the Lord Commandant and his murderous machine.
Somehow Adam was sustaining an incredible rate of fire from his machine although it showed the accumulated battle damage. Presly’s Hellbringer was pockmarked with holes from missile and cannon impacts. It’s legs blackened and bare from having been first over the mines before drawing the ire of Adam who insultingly seemed to have ordered his Lancemates to handle her.
Katya saw that the TDR-5D she had left to engage the remaining Thresher had fired at her. Its missiles impacted her rear armor but caused no critical damage. Her own missiles fired but failed to achieve a lock as their sensors were confounded by smoke and flaming trees. Each leap of her Sidewinder broke smoldering logs into char and ash upon landing. Laser pulses raked across Adam’s machine, but their effect was not evident as the armor plates had already warmed to a dull red within her HUD as it shrugs its way through the pines as if they were matchsticks or if it were some Troll or Ogre of myth.
Her console showed that she was running low on ammunition for her missiles and Gauss Rifle. She prided herself on her accuracy but shooting a moving target through a flaming forest while jumping would push the skill of even the best sharpshooters Clan Nova Cat could offer.
Sweat poured openly down her face now, she was to late and Presley’s Hellbringer lay in a twisted heap within this fiery glade that seemed right out of some hellish nightmare and threatened immolation for them both. One of his Defiance’s arms hung by strands of tortured myomer, the other was skeletal enough that she could see the shaping coils for his PPC through the smoke. “Seems that I have run out of ammunition Katya Kerensky. Here, I thought I had brought enough to share.”
Bluffing was not something Star Captain Kerensky was familiar with, but she too had empty magazines and like his Defiance she had one arm hanging on but intact enough to provide power for its energy weapon. Her cooling system had been overtaxed by the constant jumping and accumulated battle damage. “So do you yield then Adam Steiner?”
“Neg, as you say Star Captain. I still have a PPC, and I can see you don’t have any missiles left. My mag sensors also indicate your Gauss Coils are unpowered.”
“Astute observations Lord Commandant. However, I still have my Sidewinder.” Katya initiated a sub-routine that few Warriors still practiced due to its hazard to the operator, “and its jump jets.” She triggered her thrusters leaping toward him like an Angel of Fiery Judgement.
-
Within the warm confines of CSA Meng Ajete Katya Kerensky, Presley, and the others stood for inspection by Star Colonel Irons. Everything smelling of smoke and pine resin from the persistent forest fire just outside their dropship. “Half a Shadow Cat stood between you and defeat Star Captain Kerensky and Star Commander Presley. Everything else is a tangled mass of metal and myomer beneath the smoldering remnants of that forest we pulled you out of. You are lucky it did not claim your lives as well, equipment is expendable, but our people are not.”
Seth Irons turned toward the other MechWarriors in his command who stood with their backs against one wall within the adjacent corridor. “Let this be a reminder Adders that we should not underestimate our opponents. There is a chance that our future fights shall be as difficult as our first.”
He extended his hand toward Katya whose uniform like those of her Binary was covered in ash from their recovery. “You should all thank the Star Captain and her command for suffering on your behalf so that you might learn from their example.
It is only through Unity of purpose and action that we stand a chance to restore the Star League. We shall henceforth match the Inner Sphere Mech for Mech until we can attain superiority and better understand what they are capable of.
You are dismissed!”
The 73rd Adder Cavaliers saluted before returning to their duty stations, all except Katya and Presley.
“What part of you are dismissed did you misunderstand MechWarriors?”
Katya closed the hatch beside her, and Presley did the same.
“We respectfully Refuse the orders you gave us before calling this assembly.”
“To remain on Somerset?”
“Aff, I support the Star Captain in this, Star Colonel Irons. You cannot sideline us like this.
We earned our place as frontline Warriors of Clan Star Adder.
Katya and I scored at the top of our Sibkos.”
“While that is true, you presently lack Mechs, since yours were unsalvageable.”
“We can acquire new Mechs!”
“Which will take longer than I can acquire a new Binary. It is simpler to divert the forces that would be tasked with occupying this world to my command.
Leaving you behind to caretake the planet until you can be restored to combat efficacy.”
Her hands balled up as Presley eyed them with concern, “Which will take how long?”
“Unknown, without a functional HPG facility or either COMSTAR or INTELSTAR manning a reception station you will have to rely on Jumpship couriers to communicate with INTER-LOGI and they handle allotments.”
Presley ducked as Katya threw a punch toward the Colonel who sidestepped it and backhanded her into one of the command room’s multifunction consoles with a crash. Blood ran down the metal as she turned toward him with a busted nose and rage in her eyes.
“Do not forget that you chose my Cluster because it was among the highest performing during the placement Trials. That is because there is no room for Maverick Ristars and insubordination within it.
I will forget this incident occurred.”
He wiped the back of his hand with a kerchief. “However, if you no longer wish to retain your rank and status but want to desperately get into the fight; I am certain there is an open Technician role you could perform.
Thus, if you wish to retain them you are to remain on Somerset until INTER-LOGI issues you new mechs and assigns you to a new Cluster. Maybe your bondsman can even teach you a few things while you are here.”
Seth Irons neatly folded the kerchief and returned it to his breast pocket before assuming a boxer’s stance, “Unless you wish to make this a proper Trial of Grievance. I have fought Wolves before and won.
Do not think I have forgotten how just because I no longer get in the field as much as I once did.”
She paused blood streaming down her nose and face, staring down 'Implacable Irons.' Known formerly as the ‘Tyrant of Tranquil’ while she was in Creche on-world and until she had begun Sibko on Sheridan, the launching point for the Star Adder's eventual Absorption of Clan Wolf.
“I will abide by your orders Star Colonel.”
“Wisely.” He handed her the kerchief from his pocket, “Both of you clean yourselves up and prepare to transfer your Stars and support to Hollyfield Starport.
We will shortly depart afterward to Wotan along with the rest of Gamma Galaxy to take on the Twelfth Star Guards.”
-
So Adam is a bondsman. For now at least. Let's see if Katya can keep him.
-
Chapter 8 – Holly Field
09/13/3051
A sign neatly stenciled with ‘Holly Field’ rose elegantly on the wrought iron and rose arch above the road as the motorcade wound its way up the hill. Two Somerset Constables stood by saluting it as they passed through the gate before closing it behind them.
Katya watched from within the limousine as trees passed filled with glistening fruit. “What are those?”
Adam sat in a reserved blue suit and crisp white shirt across from her, bond-cord on his right wrist, “Apples?”
“They grow on trees here?”
Rachel, his ‘assistant,’ adjusted her glasses, neatly placing her hands on the tablet computer resting on her skirt, before giving her a strange look. “Do they not where you come from?”
Presley sat beside Katya and had grown agitated apparently from being within close confines of the others and at the mercy of their driver, “You said you were taking us to your residence.
Why have you taken us to a fruit farm?
What is this, Holly Field?” He pointed a finger toward the Steiner, “More tricks!”
They exchanged confused looks toward one another, “These are my mother’s grounds.”
He counted off with his fingers as if going through a mental list, “There is Holly Field Haus itself, an orchard, hedge maze, gardens, tennis court, nine-hole golf links, the pond, a pool within the solarium, stables that used to be the servants’ quarters. I think I am missing something Rachel.”
Presley followed on his own fingers but seemed to be confounded by the words.
“No that pretty much covers it, Adam. Everything else is technically off the grounds but part of the Duchess’ personal demesne.”
“It’s a lot to keep track of, that’s why I pay Gustav.”
“He is paid by your mother and never lets you forget it.
Technically so are you and I since we are both in the LCAF on her world.”
Katya leaned toward him before the three stories and thirty rooms of Holly Field Haus emerged from behind the hedges. She pressed herself to the window as they neared, “That is your residence?
It is immense. You could board hundreds of Clansmen within it.”
They approached the auto arc that fronted the manor where maintenance people were working on the presently still stone fountain. “The ballroom occupancy is one hundred and twenty according to the Feuermarschall. I am certain it could hold a larger crowd if there were more, or wider doors.”
A crowd of staff assembled on the stairs leading within, “It is one of the smaller ones in the province. Rather underwhelming considering Anette is a Duchess of Steiner blood. She only puts on three large events per standard year.”
“She says she partied to hard in her early years and appreciates Somerset’s silence.”
Rachel stepped out after Adam opened the door for her, “I want more opportunities to wear a fancy dress.”
As they turned a sharply dressed older man with neatly coifed silver hair stepped to the fore, “I am certain you will find plentiful opportunities in the future Miss Specter.”
She nudged Adam with her elbow, “I should hope so Gustav.”
He bowed neatly at the waist in the odd old Rasalhague Principality style, “Lord Adam, here I thought I would not see you for months yet. How are things down in Somerport?”
“Academy Training is on Hiatus at the moment.”
“Why?”
The Star Adders, Katya, Presley, and three of their fellow MechWarriors stood awkwardly in their formal green SLDF inspired uniforms before she presented herself, “Because I ordered him to cease training more Warriors, as his Bondholder.”
Gustav looked toward his staff then to her, “and you are?”
“Star Captain Katya Kerensky of Clan Star Adder, present military governor of Somerset.”
“Adam, care to explain your guests.”
“It is complicated Gustav; yet everything was conducted honorably. Katya,” she gave him a stern look just visible in his peripheral, “Star Captain Kerensky and I have come to an understanding. I trust that you have already prepared their rooms.”
“Of course, Sir. I am a professional and shall guide them personally.” He snapped his fingers, and several men came to collect the seabags marked with Gamma Galaxy, Clan Star Adder patches, “Porters and Star Adders please follow me.”
The party departed and staff dispersing to attend their duties leaving Adam and Rachel alone on the pavement as the cars drove toward the garage, “Did your sister and brother-in-law hide the Militia’s heavy weapons and ammo in the point we agreed?”
“Yes, your wildfire stunt delayed the Star Adders long enough to get everyone and thing out safely before they arrived at Hollyfield.”
“Good,
Colonel Irons left Katya and friends on our planet without Mechs or other heavy weapons so that means he is either confident we won’t do anything or that if we do, they can handle us later.
I think we can keep them off-balance and Somerset safe for now. If they think Somerset is already pacified more troops will not be needed but it is good to keep our options open just in case.”
“You almost won that Trial Adam.”
“I know, they just got lucky, but this might be better. If I learn more about them,
I can be certain their luck won’t save them next time.”
-
Oh boy, are the Adders in for a treat. And given how good of a fight Adam put up on the encounter? With good understanding of his enemies and time to plan in detail he can give them much worse. I hope his brother survived his last stand.
-
Blind them with luxury, keep them busy with social functions, milk them for intel. Solid plan. And that culture shock must be severe for the Adders. They must be downright dizzy with the enormity of the Inner Sphere's wealth.
-
09/15/3051
Locals had graffitied onto the darkened husk of COMSTAR’s A Class HPG Compound just outside Hollyfield. Its large transmission antennae still blinked to reveal their position to incoming traffic from its nearby star-port. Adam stood alongside Katya noticing how awkward the pulse laser rifle was slung over her shoulder.
He used a set of bolt-cutters to remove the padlock from the chain link gate.
“What do these colorful phrases mean Adam?”
They passed white vehicles marked with the Blessed Order’s logo abandoned in the faithful’s haste to depart Somerset. Some of them had broken windows and more had their own graffiti painted on the flanks. “Many of them are indeed quite colorful Star Captain. However, most of them are insults or intonations for Blake’s faithful to return and deliver them from you.”
“Us.”
Adam felt the coarse thread of his bondcord, “Right, Us.”
“Can your Technicians reestablish this world’s telephone network?”
“I am unsure. COMSTAR has run it for as long as I have known. We have become dependent on their knowledge and skills.
Until we can get the telephones back online, we cannot even begin to get trains rolling again to replace lost Starlift capacity or shift resources. There are few other routes for internal exchange, with luck we will not have to rely on motorcycle couriers.”
He used the bolt cutter handles to clear the remaining glass from the ruined front door into the lobby. A great spherical armature stood unmoving above a holoprojector dominating the cathedral like hall. It formerly would have projected a picture of the Inner Sphere or Somerset that would dominate the space and awe petitioners. “I am more interested in speaking in real time with my compatriots in Somerport.”
“Are you concerned Star Captain?”
“Neg. You were foolish to oppose our righteous cause bondsman.”
“That remains to be seen Star Captain.”
Somerset Constables followed them through the door gathering about in a loose mass until Katya turned to face them, “Inventory everything Patrol, and report it to myself or Star Commander Presley.”
They hesitated and looked toward Adam who gave them a nod that set them on their way. Constables broke into smaller groups with headlamps and lanterns to wander about the corridors and rooms of the facility. “Why did they hesitate bondsman? Everything on this world is isorla to Clan Star Adder and under my command. It is my right to do an inventory and submit it to INTER-LOGI and INTELSTAR.”
“They do not wish to defile COMSTAR’s sacred spaces.”
“Why?”
“COMSTAR has a long reach and longer memory Star Captain. Transgressions and Trespasses against the Order regularly backfire on their perpetrators.
They will return and demand satisfaction one way or another.”
“COMSTAR is not long for this universe bondsman. The Clans shall supplant them and restore them to their proper place within the Star League.”
“Many have tried Star Captain. However, they were established by your Great Father Aleksandr Kerensky and have endured centuries of strife within the Inner Sphere. Dismiss them at your own peril.”
09/20/3051
Rain pattered on the Solarium’s glass panels as Katya completed her morning laps and exited the pool. Her muscles burned from exertion before being given slight comfort as she massaged those exposed by her one-piece swimsuit. A blonde crechie girl in a green dress peeked out from the garden with a broad smile, “You’re a pretty lady. Will you be staying long?”
Her appearance caught the Warrior by surprise, she didn’t say anything, but the girl was still smiling and staring at her as she danced across the pavers. One of the maids appeared in the doorway with a little brown haired boy nearby and concerned look. “Ana!”
Ana laughed and skipped over to the woman. “Du hittade mig mamma!”
Katya stood up, looked, and stepped toward them before halting. She curtsied as did Ana and the boy bowed slightly emulating the others. “I am very sorry to have disturbed you Star Captain Kerensky.”
She knelt to face the girl and pointed toward her, “Ana, you can’t play near the pool without my supervision.
Come along, it’s time for breakfast.”
“Okej Momma.”
Adam Steiner sat in front of the rain streaked window with a steaming cup of strong black tea and a plate of rye toast and white weisswurst beside piles of paper on his desk as Katya barged into his office. Her platinum blonde hair went to her shoulders. A purple one-piece swimsuit showed far more of her pale skin, the side-effect of long periods of space travel. Many dropships included tanning beds, at least those traveling within the Lyran Commonwealth, though pale skin waxed or waned into fashion with Tharkad’s media industry and its stable of actress or the Archon herself.
“This is not exactly what I would call an undress uniform. Is there anything I can do for you Star Captain.”
“Why are there crechies here?”
“I am afraid I do not understand. Please define a Crechie.”
Katya paused, extending her hands before pressing them together, “Small people.”
“You mean children? It is Saturday so they do not have school. My mother gave her staff permission to bring them in to work so that they might play on the grounds during the half-day of labor expected of them during the weekend. In better weather, there is even a picnic.
Do you have a problem with children Katya?”
“I have not seen a child since I completed Sibko and begun MechWarrior training at the Academy almost a decade ago.”
“That does not answer my question Star Captain.”
She walked toward him to stand and leaned over to stare at him. He returned the stare back into her icy blue eyes. “I do not like children.”
He wrote, ‘Keine Kinder unter Prämisse,’ on the memo pad near her, “I will inform my staff then.”
10/17/3030 | Wolf Enclave TW-856, Tranquil
Smoldering wrecks of Wolf Battlemechs slumped against the walls as a Blood Asp from the 193rd Adder Dragoons forced its way through the gates. Their Elementals crested the wide earthen battlements of the besieged settlement scattering the last of its defenders as conventional troops rushed in through the gates. Within the enclave sharpshooters and machine guns fire upon them forcing them to take cover. They did so as blocky Oro and Indra tanks rolled through the ruined gates flanked by nimbler Zorya.
Within the creche the younger children cried out as the guns raged above and around them. Their caretakers and the older sibkin had taken up arms in the defense of Clan Wolf leaving them behind in the darkness. Dust fell from the roofbeams as a Battlemech walked above them, grains of it stuck to a girl’s platinum blonde hair and their khaki uniforms with serial numbers stenciled on them in black.
Sounds of combat came closer and the children did the same hugging, arms wrapping around each other, as the door opened to reveal an Adder Star Captain and his fireteam with pistols on their hips, rifles slung over their backs, and knives attached to their boot. “What is going to happen Katya?” cried the little brown haired boy who had wrapped her hands around her.
“Everything will be fine Vlad.”
The man consulted a bloody memo pad, rapping a pen sharply on its metal clipboard. “Start with the Wards. There will be fewer of them to process that way.”
One of the men ripped the boy away from her and dragged him by his collar. Another did the same with the others. They slammed the door shut behind them, so Katya only heard one of them shout in pain, ‘He grabbed my knife! Get him!’ followed by gunshots just outside.
A lightning strike snapped her awake, breathless, eyes filled with tears. She recognized the immense room and the little bit of it that her person and kit occupied. Her vest was perched up on the dresser, seabag open in front of it with her pulse laser rifle leaning against it. Beside her on the nightstand was her pistol, knife, watch, and codex with the Star Adder staring at her.
She slid out from the bed stepping gracefully on the fine grained hardwood floor toward the bathroom then retched out her six-course dinner.
-
Did Tharkad even hear about attack on the Somerset?
-
Did Tharkad even hear about attack on the Somerset?
That sure sounds like something that will get addressed later. So far nobody knows.
-------
10/03/3051
Rachel and Adam strode through the gardens as Somerset’s axial tilt and weak primary combined to bring autumnal chill to Hollyfield and a change in wardrobe. Its orchards were now harvested, rotting fruit left to finish pigs that would become next season’s sausage. “Adam, Katya and the others have been acting erratically.”
“I am aware but cannot do anything about it at the moment.”
“Why do you think they are behaving this way?”
“You wish to know my theories?”
“They don’t talk to me. I am just your ‘assistant’ after all.”
He wrapped an arm around her, “You are more than that and I am happy to have you here. You know that right?”
She leaned into his warmth, “I know, but it is still annoying.”
“Sorry Rach, it must be that way for now. Better they be surprised by what you can do.
I think the lack of structure is getting to them. From what I have gathered the Clan Warrior Caste are like the ancient Janissaries. They are trained from a young age with no expectation for a long or happy life or given knowledge of the greater world outside their combat role.”
“That sounds depressing.”
“I know and I think they are becoming aware of it without something else to focus on. The psychic harm is eating away at them. They are beginning to succumb to ennui the longer they are disconnected from their own people. Somerset just doesn’t have anything to offer them in its present state.”
“Is that a good thing?”
“I don’t think so, but I can only remain patient and vigilant.”
10/11/3051
Commotion rang out through the halls of Holly Field Haus as Adam and Rachel ran downstairs to find Katya holding a maid hostage with a knife surrounded by anxious staff. The women’s eyes were wide with fear while Katya’s hair and eyes were wild, black pinpricks drowning in a sea of blue.
Gustav and the others let Adam through the crowd which whispered that the Constables were en route, “Katya what the hell are you doing!”
Her voice came out even more unhinged than her appearance betrayed, “She has taken the children!”
Adam stood ahead and walked toward them, “They are her children.”
“They are the Clan’s children.
My isorla.
I want to see them.”
“You requested they leave Katya.”
“I must know that they are safe.” Katya grasped the woman’s arm strongly, “take me to them.”
The women mouthed ‘help’ to Adam as he kept her attention while watching Racheal who was skulking her way through the crowd behind them. “I think they are safer away from you Star Captain.
I do not know what demons haunt you, but they will not endanger the innocent people of Somerset.
He got within arm’s reach, “Put the knife down.”
“No! Get away from me!
You look down on me.
You think I do not know what you are doing! Who told you!”
His palms were held up and voice soft, “I don’t intend to do anything if you let Sanna go.
You are in some kind of distress Katya, make any other decision but that one.”
Katya’s knife closed to her hostage before she turned it to point the blade toward him. “This is all your…” She tensed up and fell into Adam’s arms, knife clattering to the floor as Rachel’s stun darts stuck into her back. He undid his belt and looped it around her elbows to restrain the deranged Clan Warrior as the Constables and other Adder Warriors arrived.
Adam stood firmly before the other MechWarriors, “Star Captain Kerensky is ill. She needs rest, behind a locked door.”
“You dare to restrain our Star Captain! Your bondholder.”
“I dare. If you want to fight MechWarrior, then challenge me to a Trial.”
“You cannot be the subject of a Trial without the Star Captain’s approval Bondsman nor are we able to discipline you. We can only challenge Warriors,” They became aware of the Constables behind them, “Others are to comply with our commands.”
“My bondholder seems to be incoherent at the moment.” Even though the darts were pulled out Katya lay semi-catatonic on the floor. “She can punish me upon regaining her composure.”
“We expect she shall.” The Adders lifted Katya upon their shoulders as they unceremoniously carried her away and upstairs to her room.
Sanna shook and shivered despite encouraging words from her co-workers as Adam saw the Adders off who were followed by the Constables. “I am very sorry Sanna. Take two weeks off to spend time with your family. I’ll try to keep Katya contained and ask Gustav to assign you to a less visible station for now.”
“Thank you, Lord Steiner, for helping me and your generosity.”
He bent his thumb toward Rachel, “It was all her. I was thinking of wrestling it away.”
She turned to Rachel, “Thank you Lieutenant Specter.”
“You’re welcome.” Rachel slotted another cartridge into the stun gun. “Glad this little gadget has finally come in handy.”
10/12/3051
Holly Field Haus was still and silent, as usual was on a Sunday when only essential staff were present. The rest were enjoying a day that was shaping up to be beautiful, leaves were turning orange and brown while the sun sank lower each day. Adam walked within the Grand Room, boots clacking on stone tiles echoes dampened by recently installed tapestries which lent the chamber a smell of wool and the wooden chests they were stored in.
He paused before a great wooden door carved with images of vibrantly painted Griffins of myth upon it, sized to evoke a feeling worthy of the Archon’s Thorne Room on Tharkad when the Duchess was holding Grand Court rather than using the more modest Office or smaller Salon for business. They dated from the era of Cochren, the progenitor of House Borge-Steiner as a reminder of Somerset’s historical position as a March world meant to protect the Lyran Commonwealth from the Rim World’s Republic before it languished in that realm’s absence.
A large padlock barred the way, but he lifted an immense bronze key and unlocked it with a snap of both hands. Despite being well balanced the door’s wood had a heavy steel core leading as it did to Manor’s Southern Wing dominated by the Armory, Lockers, and Gym.
Her footfalls and shadow revealed her presence before Katya stood on the ornate rugs that protected the Armory’s floor from its weapons and vice versa. Adam polished a gilded bespoke reproduction of an ancient musket returning the stock’s ornate wood to its previous gleam. A weapon capable of downing boar if tales of his Granduncle Pete and the taxidermy plaque were to have been believed. Not that he had met the man that had cost his Grandmother her life and his son the Duchy of Somerset.
“Yes Katya.”
Katya wrapped her hand around the hilt of a longsword, “You have embarrassed me Bondsman.”
Adam returned the musket to its mount above the mantle and came to stand beside a mannequin clad in gothic style half-plate, “I saved my people, as is my duty.”
She lingered for a moment, “I will not forget this.”
His eyes searched her posture for any movement that could reveal an attack. “Then perhaps you are indeed capable of learning Clanswomen.”
Her knuckles went white around the hilt, “I find that suffering is a reliable tutor.”
“But one that frequently delivers the wrong lessons.”
“You would dismiss my suffering!” Her voice boomed through the armory. A primal scream from the deepest wells of emotion.
Adam remained steady, “Quite the contrary Star Captain Katya Kerensky. I acknowledge it but believe you have wallowed in it so long you cannot see options that are obvious to those with clearer eyes.”
“You would seek to educate me then and clear my vision?”
“Has my Trial of Position finally arrived bondholder?” She nodded and Adam snapped the bondcord with a firm tug, “If suffering is the only method to reach you. Well, it is a Professor’s job to speak their student’s language.”
He removed his vest and rolled up his shirt sleeves, “Un-augmented?” His hands wrapped around the hilt of a cavalry saber, “or would you like to test a Steiner with live steel?”
-
Dueling scars?
-
But this is without mensur protection gear.
Katya's traumas make her unable to really function outside environment where outside pressure keeps down what is boiling inside her. Releasing up all that is pent up inside her within clan society would get her killed fast, but here she is danger to everyone else instead. We will see if Adam can defuse this UXO with multiple non-standard anti-tempering devices installed.
-
Dueling scars?
Only Andrew has those and boy was Anette angry about that.
------
Adam’s saber caught Katya’s longsword with the draw directing it downward and into the ornate rug. Sparks flew as its steel scraped against the stone. He danced away, “Very dishonorable of you Star Captain,” then gave her a mocking salute, “Auf der Hut.”
“You cheated during our last trial.” Her stance was much higher than a proper hanging guard, leaving more of her exposed. Yet Adam bladed himself to her saber fully extended to make up for lost reach from his nimbler weapon.
“I followed my bid, an SLDF Standard company plus whatever they could carry.
You!” His eyes narrowed as he put racks of polearms and mannequins donning armor between them, “Planned poorly. Although I am not certain what I would do with a bondswoman should things have turned out differently.
I am however afraid the position of girlfriend and lover is already occupied.”
Katya adjusted her stance lowering the sword to better protect her head and keep it from entangling on the Halberds and other weapons, “I would have ejected myself into the flames before I would allow a freeborn like you to control me, let alone couple with you.”
Adam mule kicked the door to the Gym open revealing a large room complete with a fighting ring and exercise apparatus. “That would have saved me a great deal of trouble.”
He parried her next attack hard enough that Katya’s guard failed and had to catch her feet to adjust to a back guard, her blade hovering over the floor while leaving her exposed. “You are just playing with me now Adam.
Strike a blow!
Draw blood!”
“Nein.
Your lesson is not over, and I find this oddly nostalgic. It’s been a while since I sparred in this room.”
Her next strike was close razor edged steel arcing upward to cleave him in twain. She was to slow however, and he stepped inward to deliver an uppercut with his off hand that did little against the Clan Warrior hardened as she was by a lifetime of training and abuse.
The next blow, meant for his head, was faster as she placed her hand on the unsharpened portion of the blade to lever it. It very nearly succeeded but Adam ducked and executed a shallow draw cut on her side before putting distance between them.
Blood trickled on the tiles as Adam presented the saber once more as he walked back into the sandy fighting ring, “You received what you asked for Clanswoman. Are you satisfied?”
Once more her blade raised as she advanced, “I am only getting started.”
Their footing was unstable on the sand, affecting Katya more than Adam but her blows were as strong as before. Adam dodged where he could, parrying where he could not, minor cuts and scrapes began to wear on both, as breath came in fierce bursts timed with strikes. Katya dropped her sword in the bind, drawing a knife that slashed across Adam’s chest as he fell backward.
She leapt on him driving her knife down with fury rather than whatever remained of her strength.
Adam shifted beneath her as the blade punched through the sand less than a palm length away.
He struck the inside of her forearm with his palm causing her fingers to slacken and lose their grip on the bloody dagger. Katya drove her elbow toward his neck but hit him in the chin trying to force her way through despite his resistance while they wrestled for control of the dagger.
Adrenaline kicked in as their breathing grew more ragged with the strain. Adam grabbed her uniform’s lapel and flipped her onto the sand above the dagger while taking a side mount to begin pummeling her. She flexed to kick the back of his head and spun out of the ring to stand on the tiles once more.
“Rachel can’t do that, but she is a lot less crazy than you.”
“You think I am crazy!” Katya somehow sounded less ‘mental’ in her wounded state. She ripped a damaged part of her sleeve off to reveal the bloody cuts on her pale skin.
Adam stomped the knife and both swords into the sand to make them more difficult to pick up and wiped the blood from his cheek before adopting a boxing stance. “I think this is the first time in almost a month that you’ve felt in control.”
“I have always been in control.”
“Then why have you acted like you weren’t. What was the matter? Somerset to peaceful for you?”
They exchanged blows, bruises showed where the other had defended with bone rather that footwork. “I am a Warrior; my place is on a battlefield.
Yet here I am rotting away on some backwater world. Babysitting its pampered Lord.”
“Fight, for what though? The Star League that your ancestors abandoned.”
“For the ilKhan. To protect our homeworlds.”
“From whom?
The Inner Sphere, I didn’t even know you existed until last month. I figured Aleksandr led his people on a one way trip. That the Explorer Corps might one day find a derelict fleet of inbred humans lost among the stars.”
Their battle returned to the armory as Katya pressed Adam against the walls with furious strikes. He returned wrenching her to the floor or throwing her into standing racks causing polearms and other weapons to clatter to the ground.
“You lie! We captured a COMSTAR ship in our home-worlds.”
“Then why have you chosen to invade the Lyran Commonwealth?”
“Because your military is weak, but your economy is strong.
Once Tharkad falls, Terra will soon follow and then the Star League, championed by our Clans, will once more take over everywhere else and bring Humanity under one banner.”
“There had better be many more of you then, and much better.
I almost won our Trial last time.”
“Star Colonel Irons is old fashioned, used to the way things were. Not as they soon shall be.”
“Then you have already discarded the values that your forebears held dear.”
“Our situation has changed. We have adapted.”
“You stand in a precarious position then, adapting under fire requires wisdom you lack. That is why you shall lose. You can barely stay grounded now.”
She lurched forward with a kick. He caught it, then shoved her toward the fallen poles.
Katya’s footing failed and she collapsed right into him. He wrapped his arms around her neck and applied pressure until she blacked out before the mantle, its trophy, and what claimed it.
-
Was this this a duel, intelligence interrogation or courtship ritual? Too bad Adam has no way of sharing information he is getting out of his resident loony beyond Somerset.
-
I dunno why, but I was reminded a bit of the final fight (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9xDO7yhPdG8) in the 2011 movie Warrior.
Too bad there was no such cathartic moment for Katya.
-
Was this this a duel, intelligence interrogation or courtship ritual?
That is just a Clan Trial Psiho
-----
Chapter 9 – Lessons Learned
10/15/3051
Katya felt the physical and mental pain from every cut and bruise from her encounter with Lord Commandant Adam Steiner as the five point harness dug into her. Somerset dropped off beneath the ST-46C as it streaked into a starry sky. Her nails dug into her palm just as she had done when the orders came down.
Presley turned to her as they breached the atmosphere. “Captain. Do you trust Adam enough to return his world to him?”
“No,” She repressed her sour feelings toward the freeborn Lord, “but he earned it according to our rules. I do not want it. It does not matter either since he cannot do anything that we disapprove of now that INTER-LOGI has begun sending teams down.”
“What do you know of the Thirty Seventh Strikers or Star Colonel Marcos Radick.”
The tapping of her nails caught the attention of the other Mechwarriors that had deployed with them. Their Somerset unit transported via a different shuttle on the four standard day journey to the Nova Fox Odyssey that waited for them at Somerset’s Nadir Jump Point.
“It is not an elite command by any measure.” Her hand reached down to a rucksack stuffed with a portion of her ‘homework’ the complete collection of the Commonwealth Historical Press’ encyclopedias on Aleksandr Kerensky (To the Nagelring, Early Career and Letters to Katya, On Campaign vol I-IV, War against the Usurper vol I-V, Exodus) and a few other things ‘borrowed’ from Holly Field Haus’ library.
She looked at the Star Captain’s badge on her shoulder, “but neither is Marcos worthy of his rank.
I will bring him to heel in time.”
10/18/3051
Adam Steiner received the message that Katya and the others had departed his system before making time to meet his worlds INTER-LOGI representative. She had arrived via car after a quick tour of Tauton, the planetary capital that he spent little time within. Gustav stood beside him as the car door opened and a graying matronly woman with a neat uniform marked by a pentagon on her right arm trimmed with 3 gold edges and holding what he presumed was the INTER-LOGI logo within. Her attendants were marked by the same pentagon but with differently numbered and colored edges, something akin to COMSTAR’s ranking system he presumed.
“Merchant Factor Rhonda, it is a pleasure to greet you.”
“It is my pleasure to be here Commander Adam.” She adjusted her glasses and pulled out a pen while receiving a ledger pad from her attendant, “My last assignment was far less hospitable.”
“I assure you that Somerset is quite hospitable.
That is one of things that I wish to offer to the Council in fact.”
“Your hospitality?”
He walked her up the stairs and into the grandiose manor. “Exactly! You see I have seen the true spirit of the Clans and I would like to share it with my fellow Spheroids. I would like for you to transfer any hardcase POWs here.”
She adjusted her glasses, “They are proving a drain on our limited manpower resources. Particularly after Elissa.”
“Exactly Rhonda! Guard duty is such a waste of the Touman’s potential.
I assure you that there will be no problems on Somerset with these incorrigibles.”
“Your last inventory shows that you are lacking in hardware to defend this world from counterattacks or provide internal security and trade links. We will have to transfer some to your Command to prevent a prison break by the enemy.”
Adam smiled, “That would be splendid! Would you happen to have a catalog?”
-
(https://media.makeameme.org/created/everything-is-going-dz6flj.jpg)
-
LOL, collecting all the vehemently anti-clanner soldiers in one spot, watched over by 'loyal' abtakha equipped with ample hardware.
Nothing could possibly go wrong! ;D
-
Chapter 1 0 – Prototype
10/02/3051
Star Adder SaKhan Nikola Banacek stood ‘virtually’ on the prow of the Volga Class Armored Transport SLS Mekong as Wotan came into view. It looked so small this far away in the light of its G3V Class Primary. The reality was quite the opposite as could be seen by the armada of transports, carriers, and assault ships he brought with him that maintained a tight formation.
Five Galaxies of Clan Warriors, 3 from Clan Star Adder, an oversized Hell’s Horses Galaxy (made entirely of Super-Clusters), and another from the Nova Foxes were ready to deploy with three more within Mekong’s immense cargo bays and reinforcements en route.
The opening of a door broke the illusion caused by the wrap around viewscreens. His guest was a ‘Blueblood’ or someone with almost 20 years of service within their Caste who had managed to advance in ‘Grade’ during the annual tests delivered by Caste Leadership. In his case the Scientist Caste while Nikola had graduated Sheridan Academy during the Wolf War just as long ago.
“Greetings Coordinator Clarus. I have not seen much of you despite sharing this ship for weeks.”
“It is a large ship SaKhan, with many embarked personnel. I have spent my time with the implementation team debugging and updating the SXRs we created on Ingvolstand. These are the first batch from the Automata plant and the first time they have been used against live foes rather than one another.”
“Mekong and Brahmaputra were refitted with an NCSS for this very purpose at great expense. I look forward to seeing them in action.”
“As do I. The Star Guards and Wotan TMM are the most formidable adversaries we have faced thus far. This shall be a decisive victory to add to your Codex and the Remembrance SaKhan.”
A Table of Organization appeared from the holoprojector built into the ceiling. Symbolically it showed 2 Assault Ship Squadrons, 4 Aerospace Fighter Wings, 8 Battlemech Regiments, 12 of Armor, and 20 of Infantry and almost another Brigade of support personnel. “An immense foe stands between us and Wotan. Khan N’Buta has entrusted us with subduing them so that they cannot raid our occupied territories or threaten the colonies.”
“No doubt to Khan Norizuchi’s and SaKhan Suzuki’s ire. Acquiring the mineral wealth and industrial capacity of Asgard, Oslo, and Isengard will also aid our cause greatly.”
“You sound like a Merchant rather than a Scientist, Coordinator.”
“The Caste divides are not as opaque between civilians SaKhan. As a Scientist I must collaborate extensively with other Castes to ensure my research, and your war effort continue unabated.”
Booting from ROM
3051/04/10 | 18:38
Ambient Temp 13.3*C
External Atmospheric Pressure 60.975 Pa
Location – Unknown…synchronize SLS Mekong internal computer net through node 8A6I0zv. NavComputer reports planet 'Wotan'
Unit Identifier - SXR-3050-07-17-IA SN# TvbT0H3H8m
Configuration – SXR-XXVII Sentinel, Prime Model
Status…
Operating in Low Power mode, external supplied
Fusion core cold
Myomer deactivated
Gyro idle
Basic environmental sensors active
Dorsal Aft magazine doors 1-6 open
Pressure detected on dorsal surface, patterned…footsteps.
Subject mass 68 Kg
Activating external electrooptical and audio sensors
A Laborer (CID: TADQVTi0vw / Laborer Grade XI / Journeyman Ordnance Handler) hopped off ‘my back’ then pulled down a hook loaded from the overhead gantry crane. He attached the hook to the shackle of a canisters with rounds slotted within like a speed loader. For some reason he spun them with his hands and watched as the shells stenciled with ‘Mark XVII Smoke’ and Mark XVIII Airburst’ and ‘Mark XV Anti-Personnel’ spun within their drums. The ratcheting mechanism clicking and clacking with each pass.
Electro optical cameras tracked his movement, multiple angles, multiple inputs, perceived as a fly would see the world, one frame at a time. He attached the hook to the shackle and lifted them into the air. They remain suspended three meters while he lowered them down before approaching interface. ‘My’ internal ammunition handling equipment lifted to meet the speed loading rig drawing each round in a perfect spiral to its ready position before retracting them into 'me'.
“You are one hungry robot.”
Vocal analysis…inconclusive…unknown command phrase
The Laborer closed the magazine door and once more jumped down to the ordnance carriage. He returned the empty drum and another Laborer (CID: eIWMDCvNm0 / Laborer Grade III / Apprentice Ordnance Handler) joined him with a separate cart of shells.
“Rookie, you just keep topping off these rigs. I will drop them in the bot.”
‘Rookie’ lifted the shells and gingerly slotted them into the drum as the other one set his hook on the other one. Five more loading cycles were completed before all ammunition magazines were filled. Each instance of which ‘tickled’ my internal sensors as the induction fuses of the mortar bombs passed the programming coil and updated my internal databse.
Both Laborers leaned against the empty carts, “Those are heavy mortar bombs Boss. I wish I had a robot to lift them.”
“If they could load themselves; these robots would be taking over the Inner Sphere!”
They laughed; decibel levels approached 85 for 10 seconds as they slapped each other on the back and departed.
All systems on standby for mission execution.
Whenever that would occur.
Until then.
Electro-optical cameras returned to their rest positions; sensor feeds dropped off in sequence until there was no stimulus but time.
-
A genuine AI units?
-
3051/07/10 | 00:58 | Ambient Temp 25.6*C | External Atmospheric Pressure 101.325 kPa
An electromagnetic whisper demanded attention. ‘ACTIVATE Unit Identifier - SXR-3050-07-17-IA SN# TvbT0H3H8m | Configuration – SXR-XXVII Sentinel, Prime Model’
External sensors came alive revealing a windswept and barren piece of rock. Multiple IFF tags were interrogated and returned. Ten thousand voices flooded my receivers but each one was heard as clear as rock crystal.
Clan Hell’s Horses, Clan Nova Fox, Clan Star Adder, Us, and the enemy
Location – 43km NNW of Isengard, Wotan confirmed via SatNav. Registering start point (JTF Command Borealville) on Inertial Navigation System
Internal ignition attempt one…
Within me magnetic coils confined riotous gases heating them within a stellar furnace. Rendering them into their sub-atomic constituents and forcing more of them together as the ignition sequence spun the luminous plasma and charged particles in perfect orbits.
Attempt successful…
Bringing motive systems online…
Beneath me the Diagnostic Information computer, my embodied companion limited to a single body while I could pour myself elsewhere, extended itself through the myomer bundles wound tightly throughout the machine. Four legs lifted us off the rocky ground and into the air each one of which held an intricate array of sensors meant to aid the DI in selecting the proper ground upon which we treaded.
Weapon systems activated…
Both mortar tubes freed chambering a smoke round before the armored doors upon our shoulders opened. My targeting sensors projected probable landing trajectories based on my current velocity, bearing, and local terrain. Simple physics far beneath my executive functions. I noticed more ‘Sentinel,’ ‘Shatter,’ ‘Storm,’ and ‘Savage configurations around me. Each one’s SN# and Unit ID appeared as virtual tags above them. Each of us with differing purpose. Our smaller brethren ‘Skitters’ and ‘Skewers’ were nowhere to be seen but we could hear them.
‘What do you require of me mothership Mekong?’ I query; as more SXR units come online we exchange information, ‘Savage’ and ‘Shatter’ units bound through Nova data threads constantly rewoven at the command of their controlling intelligences, layers of understanding concealed from my mind.
Mothership Mekong has a special place for all of us if only we would listen patiently.
‘She’ ordered me and us to ‘Assault these coordinates. Primary target Infantry and fortifications.’ We turn in unison toward the coordinates and set out at our own speeds. We walk past Joint Ops Firebase WT-876 where Marduk and Carnivore tanks arced their Armstrong Sniper howitzers up to fire precision shells guided in by others under the watchful eyes of Mastiff SPAAGs. Piles of expended ordnance were shoveled onto trucks by skid-steers operated by Laborers as more were brought from the shuttle landing on a runway built by Horse engineers.
Casualty evacuation vehicles sped past us as we approached the second line where Technicians replaced armor panels on Corvis Infantry Support Omnimechs and reloaded their cannons. Shells from Arm-67 Thumper Howitzers and Cruise Missiles from central command arced overhead to crash into fortifications, the ones we were meant to assault. They made way for us, artillerymen, infantry, and Mechwarrior alike watching as our grand procession passed.
The ground between there and here was littered with the wreckage of Battemechs and combat vehicles. Armored Elementals from the Third Stampede Supercluster {75 Mechs (Mostly Corvii ISMs, 375 Elementals} of Hell’s Horses Gamma Galaxy under the command of SaKhan Tanya DeLaurel ‘stared’ at us according to my behavioral sensors from the flatbed trailers towed by G-81 Medium Utility Vehicles escorted by Mechs and Tanks.
Our four legs lifted us above the debris and craters. As we approach our objective, a string of trenches and berms teeming with enemy, I find a crater to take cover within. A ‘Storm’ unit does the same looming over us. We dropped to the ground exposing only the barrels of our mortars while it remained standing, its size more apparent from our prone position.
‘Storm unit join us’ we say to the Mech twice our mass.
It responds, ‘I will run out of ammunition before I run out of armor or integrity. I must see and support the little ones. If I hide, they will suffer, statistically the enemy fires upon our kind before any other. This is our purpose.’
‘What is my purpose?’ The query results in error 857oa and the mission status refreshes as mothership Mekong reminds me. 'Assault these coordinates. Primary target infantry and fortifications.'
Our purpose comes from outside. Requests come through the battlefield communication mesh. ‘Fire here,’ ‘Fire there,’ ‘We are exposed,’ ‘Conceal us from the enemy’ they say.
I respond, my position certain and confirmed with each fire mission, we do not need to see the enemy to fire upon them, it is merely math, a problem with a solution when accounting for outside variables. Our mortars respond to all calls for aid promptly and unerringly. The only misses are due to the enemy moving.
The line is broken, our ammunition stocks remain half-way full. The Storm unit moves forward, ‘You have fired your missiles Storm unit, you must return for more.’
‘My purpose is not yet fulfilled. We must move forward little one. More will follow.’
I too feel compelled to move forward striding over the burnt-out remnants of pillboxes, tangled webs of wire, pick pock marks of mines, and clumps of viscera. The ‘Storm’ unit crushes Gabions beneath its feet as it moves forward. Many of our kind have been rendered ineffective, they feel... ‘shame’ ...at being unable to complete their mission, but we all have promises of restoration from Mothership Mekong. Three ‘Savage’ units stand on the ridge along with a Lance of ‘Sunders’ and more of my kind. ‘Skewers’ have returned to be rearmed and more ‘Skitters’ are being activated to replace those that have fallen.
We see another line of trenches better prepared than the first. I am drawn to it by powers from above.
'Assault these coordinates | Primary Targets - Infantry and Fortifications'
Mothership Mekong watches over and expects it of us. So, we move to obey her and fulfill our purpose.
-
It looks like they took a look at the SLDF operations manuals and decided they need to spice it up with drones.
-
It looks like they took a look at the SLDF operations manuals and decided they need to spice it up with drones.
That's my Clan Star Adder in a nutshell actually.
----
3051/10/10 | 15:02 | Ambient Temp 27.6*C | External Atmospheric Pressure 100.485 kPa
‘Unit Identifier - SXR-3050-07-21-IA SN# YzV4N5Cf
Configuration – SXR-XXXI Skewer, VGL Variant | Aggression – Low’
Convoy Leader Kaltren has given me an area to recon, I zig zag through it, the enemy is near, but we cannot see them. The real danger is beneath. Our sensors scan everything, taking in every wavelength and physical phenomena of my surroundings then bottling it up into a cube before I shuffle through each layer for meaning. Patterns arise from the noise.
‘Mines! Steer clear DI,’ My embodied companion aids me in sorting through the spectrums and sensor inputs. We digest them together; it follows my orders adjusting its path according to my scan pattern. The area has been interrogated; we stand by.
‘You. Destroy these mines." The order is given through Kaltren’s Van. Mines lay in wait to harm our allies after being deployed by the Enemy behind our lines via aircraft and saboteur. Hostiles may hide in the woods, but we shall seek them out so that they might be known to the Nova Foxes.
‘As you command Sir.’
We respond avoiding the known dangers, retracing our exact steps, the weapon doors open, and 40 rockets are fired at the mines embedded into muddy ground. The mines explode, setting off sympathetic explosions before us and splattering our arrays with mud until they stop, and we clear our optics.
‘Mission accomplished sir’
"Come back" he says. We do so and lay down so that our Rockets may be reloaded by the cranes of a J-57 rapid rearming vehicle.
The Enemy seeks to obstruct our path, but we shall clear the way.
Our weapon doors close, one of the ordnance handlers ‘pets’ us before we stand up once more, ready for the next mission.
3051/11/10 | 11:27 | Ambient Temp 27.5*C | External Atmospheric Pressure 101.587 kPa
‘Unit Identifier - SXR-3050-07-28-IA SN# HGkT36tN
Configuration – SXR-XXXV Skitter | Aggression - High’
We run past trucks on the highway, they attempt to fire on us from their pintel guns but nothing, save our kin seem able to catch us as we dig our paws into the asphalt toward our objective. SaKhan Banacek wishes us to ‘Hunt down a Lance of Marauder, Orion, Zeus, and Banshee battlemechs within this area.’ Although we are unarmed, we are not alone, those that we find will face our master’s retribution.
The battlefield is littered with the metal bones of the fallen, our fallen, this mission was attempted before but I could not fulfill my purpose and was Restored aboard the Mothership before being tasked with it again.
I track incoming targets as I approach, a Shadow Hawk, I avoid it, it attempts to chase me with its cannon, but I jink to the right avoiding the spray of fire. Explosions kick up chips at my heels, but I am already thinking ahead. My purpose is clear, I see more machines, identifying a ‘Phoenix’ ‘Commando’ ‘Crusader’ ‘Wasp’ ‘Stinger’ and more.
‘Locusts’ give chase but we outpace them handily. More medium mechs and others appear on the plains, I pay them no heed as I bypass them. ‘J. Edgars’ and small hover tanks keep pace with us attempting to halt our advance. ‘Instinct’ kicks in as we evade their fire herding them into one another, forcing them to slow and coordinate with their companions while we are in perfect synchronicity with ours. We leave them in the dust but take some damage.
Our sensors indicate the presence of our targets, we inform the Storm, Marduk, and Airborne units nearby. They tell us that strike packages are en route and only await our terminal guidance. Somewhere behind me I detect an incoming flight of Goth Aerospace Fighters.
We sprint toward our targets; they turn to fire upon us, but we are small and fast while they are slow. Particle beams and autocannon shells impact around us as the TAG optic is uncovered from within our backs. A timer ticks off the Time before Impact for our incoming strike packages. One of my companions falters its light armor torn open by a precision round from the Marauder’s autocannon. As we near our options to evade become fewer the enemy covers one another but they cannot stop what has already begun.
Arrow IVs from our Storm kin slam into the Banshee knocking it to the ground, Laser guided bombs exploded their unitary warheads unerringly finding our TAG pulses. The second wave of Copperheads and Arrow IVs comes next. Our legs falter beneath us, there is too much damage for them to bear our mass.
While we cannot continue our mission, the Enemy is damaged, we see them flee south to Asgard while we wait for Recovery and Restoration aboard the mothership.
-
My embodied companion
A follower drone?
-
A follower drone?
The DI computer is the same as any other mech. So it's more like the reptile brain to the Arcs executive control. They cooperate the same as a MechWarrior but more intricately thus the use of 'our' when referring to the machine.
-
I like this representation of the drones, reminds me a bit about the RatThing from Snow Crash.
-
I was wondering, are all these changes in Clans consequences of Wolf war or was this something longer in making?
-
I was wondering, are all these changes in Clans consequences of Wolf war or was this something longer in making?
I kind of hint about it in the M-Class drone entry for my combat vehicles.
Basically Clan Mongoose has the resources and manpower of 3 Clans since it consumed Ice Hellion and Smoke Jaguar in their early history. Star Adder has always been their principal target. Since they only have 1 Clan worth of resources and manpower (and not even like a big boy Clan like Jade Falcon) they had to adapt by using remotely operated drones since the beginning as attritional and area control units against Mongoose or by developing alliances with Hell's Horses (Army for Hire) or Nova Fox (Fleet for Hire). Thus Mongoose and Star Adder have engaged in almost Total War against one another since the beginning of Clan History and so are the most familiar with the concept (hence the brutality of their attack on Green Machine and Star Adders deployment of the SXR robots against Wotan).
The most recent advancements were because they acquired Wolf/Coyote Scientists (like Clarus) and Nova Fox developed the SXR robots for REVIVAL in collaboration with other Clans.
-
3051/14/10 | 11:28 | Ambient Temp 28.1*C | External Atmospheric Pressure 102.118 kPa
‘Unit Identifier – SXR-3051-02-11-IA SN# wj3YVSNU Configuration – SXR-XVIII-Savage’
‘Assault all targets | Aggression Level – High’
There is no defense, only counterattack according to Mekong. We march out from our positions behind the ‘Zero Line’ of the Joint Task Force. Nova data-threads constantly reweaving as I determine with our Savage and Shatter-kin. We have been selected for this purpose as we can endure what the little ones cannot.
Artillery thunders behind us tearing into their ranks, no Storm-kin are within transmission range, they have been distributed elsewhere to support the little ones. We see the Enemy in all spectra, our targeting computer tracks them giving me suggestions as to what to fire upon. I take it under consideration and direct it to the Enemy I know has greatest potential for harm.
Our power plant cannot take us swiftly to them, but it matters not for they are charging at us, erupting from the mushroom city of ‘Asgard.’ Seeking to harm our allies. We cannot allow this indiscretion.
We fire upon a BLR-1D, Extended Range ATMs dropping their boosters to the ground as they streak into the sky to land unerringly upon its chest. Their explosions cause damage, I confirm it with my sensors, but this Enemy is almost as large as us. Again and again, we fire upon it, ERs loads are depleted within 30 seconds.
When it comes within standard ATM range, we continue firing upon it. It begins to flee, we fire upon it once more, our PPC cuts through its rear armor and into its power plant rendering it harmless. My algorithm sorts through the next set of available targets as the Enemy fires upon us. I care not, the integrity of this unit is formidable, Restoration will come when our purpose is fulfilled.
A MAD-2T threatens a nearby Shatter, it calls for aid, I utilize the data threads that bind me momentarily to it. Shatter-kin move faster than us and have formed the front line. Our weapons find the cockpit causing the Mech to slump forward and crash into the ground, controlling intelligence neutralized. The Enemy choses to go beyond the front line to engage us at close range. Shatter-kin continue their advance firing their Gauss rifles toward the ranks knowing that we can handle ourselves.
Among us Nova datathreads constantly reweave as conditions dictate binding us together as if with cables of steel, the closer an enemy gets the more dangerous we become. Our torsos have been stripped of their external armoring, the enemy’s weapons tear into our internal integrity but find only more strength. We have expended most of our ordnance and begin to fire the HE explosive payloads from our IATM12. With their massive warhead and help from our kin the Enemy will find no victory, many of their Mechs fall at our feet.
With no apparent logic some of our formation sustained more attacks by the enemy and were rendered immobile. Their TAG systems yet call down retribution from our allies. Copperheads from Hell’s Horses artillery and Semi-Active mortar shells and missiles from our Sentinel-kin strike them and those that threaten them down before they can deliver a blow that might prevent Restoration.
The advance is only halted when we falter from harm, but we rise again. Our ammunition magazines are depleted, but our PPC will never run out of ammunition. Shatters are not as durable as we, many could not fulfill their purpose and await Restoration. Others have become damaged beyond repair, but we remember their sacrifice.
Our purpose is not yet fulfilled, so we must continue.
3051/28/10 | 11:28 | Ambient Temp 25.1*C | External Atmospheric Pressure 60.118 kPa
‘Unit Identifier – SXR-3051-03-15-IA SN# hXN2Ht2E Configuration – SXR-XXII-Shatter’
‘BOOT from ROM
External power connected; external sensors enabled…
Internal Integrity Diagnostic Scan…
FRL, FLL, RT, LT 0%
CT 40%, RRL 50%, RLL 70%’
It is… ‘beautiful’ …to see how many of us await Restoration aboard the Mothership. Our burned skin has been removed so that workers could repair my broken bones and replace my missing components. My Gauss rifle’s propulsion coils exploded and scrambled my systems on the battlefield, but they have returned to as they were. Soon I shall be as well.
The mothership tells us we should sleep to be healed. She… ‘sings’ me a… lullaby…
---
SaKhans Tanya DeLaurel and Nikola Banacek as well as Coordinator Clarus and his implementation team walk on the catwalk above the triage repair deck of SLS Mekong. Laborers and Technicians worked beneath them removing armor, cutting away damaged components with grinders and torches while tracing and triaging damage.
Nikola walked alongside his peer, “Clarus, How many SXR robots have been returned to the Mekong?”
Clarus consulted his charts, “Two hundred of various models thus far. More are still being recovered from distant battlefields. A fair number are total losses although we were surprised to see how many Savage units remain functional.
Many Skitters were lost but that is to be expected considering their mission profile. The most severely damaged type were the Shatters but was expected. They were used like tanks but lack any sense of self-preservation.”
“We are still building a doctrine for them. Nevertheless, it is something to consider. Perhaps we should stick with drones for that role for now.”
“Your drone tanks will never be as responsive as a manned unit.”
“Perhaps Tanya but your Clan has the manpower, we do not. Our advantage is in information dominance and overmatch in signals and intelligence. However, those only work on the surface and is why we required your superclusters. How goes the clearing of Asgard and the other holdout forces?”
“The enemy has prepared formidable defenses, but my Warriors are making progress against the Star Guard and Tamar TMM. With many of their heavy weapons destroyed on the battlefield they are merely a threat to our timetable to transform this world into a resource colony rather than our Touman.
I was informed this morning that the Khan requires my presence elsewhere so my Galaxy shall begin our departure tomorrow and complete it within a fortnight.
I will take some SXR units with me to begin incorporating them into our formations to replace losses.
You can continue your other experiments on your own.”
SaKhan DeLaurel departed them toward to return to the command deck.
“Have you uncovering anything interesting from the data you have collected Coordinator?”
Coordinate Clarus deployed a portable holoprojector and displayed an array of data that was clearly even beyond the Warrior SaKhan’s keen mind. “So many things SaKhan. Although we and the Nova Foxes designed them to work together the AI programs developed for them have ‘evolved’ patterns. All of them fulfilled their missions but they did so in very interesting ways.
Skitters moved in herds with others of their kind spreading damage among them equally before breaking up. Like wolves on a hunt. Despite having the smallest computers, they seemed to have developed something akin to animal instinct or perhaps focus.
Skewers functioned best with human teams and poorly when separate.
Sentinels lost efficiency when supporting a mixed team of humans and robots but regained their efficiency if supporting only one. We presume it is some kind of communication error. They can only 'speak' one language at a time and are easily confused in a mixed team.
Shatters and Savages saw a twenty percent efficiency increase the longer they worked with one another.
Quite frankly it was bizarre to see such adaption under fire.” Clarus adjusted his notes, “Something we did not anticipate.”
“Why do you think that is Scientist?”
“I do not know SaKhan. I may have helped make them, but I cannot understand how they think. We programmed them to think like Clan Warriors and they seem to have become something else.”
Nikola looked down at the damaged robots and saw only equipment. “Fascinating Coordinator. You are dismissed but do keep me informed of any other developments your team uncovers.”
“As you wish SaKhan. Our attention is already required elsewhere.”
-
That's a disquieting development.
-
I'm sure it won't eventually bite humanity in the ass.
-
That's a disquieting development.
I'm sure it won't eventually bite humanity in the ass.
At least they can't reload themselves...yet.
---
Interlude – Forlorn Hope
11/17/3051
Duke Selvin Kelswa III took a long draught of brandy within the blacked out mansion that had for centuries held strong against the Draconis Combine in defense of the Lyran Commonwealth. It would not hold much longer; the Ghost Bears were in position on the hills. Hills that his family had enjoyed so often in his life. They were waiting for his answer before they stormed the walls.
COMSTAR had abandoned them. He understood why intellectually. However, the only salve he had for this was that Precentor Hoppe had honored his request to evacuate Morasha, Robert, and more civilians than they likely could hold to their mystery destination with them.
He could not, would not abandon his world though, nor was he going to wage a guerilla war. If these alien invaders meant to take this world, he intended to stand up to them, to his last breath if he must. He was too old for games now, but not for battle.
Many of his old friends had gathered downstairs in the grand hall, greying men that he had served alongside and even a few he served under during the Succession Wars, MechWarriors long past their prime. A solemn mood lay as heavily upon them as the pre-dawn darkness, He raised a glass, “To one last ride Lads! We shall enjoy it to the end. Leave nothing but empty bottles and terrible memories to the enemy.”
“Hier! Hier! Zum Herzog von Tamar!”
Outside a square company of Assault Mechs had gathered in the courtyard with a Battalion of lightly equipped Militia. Hauptmann Dieter van Kesh stood at attention in his gray tanker’s jumpsuit, the young Lieutenant had been thrust high above his station after the Ghost Bear’s ‘Elementals’ had decapitated his Kommandant and most of the other Militia Commanders. “Let us accompany you your Grace.”
“How old are you son?”
“Twenty three sir.”
Selvin grabbed his shoulder roughly, “I’m giving you the order to make it to thirty kid. Then we can talk. Let us old fellas handle this one would ya. Get out of town while you still can, lay low, wait for relief, then be brave. Du verstehst?”
“Ja Sir!” The Militia watched them depart before driving their light tanks and trucks in the opposite direction, to safety he hoped. Szczepański’s Symphony no 7, his personal favorite, played over their battle-net.
His Atlas exited the Eastern Gate to see the lights of the Ghost Bear Galaxy camped upon the hills. “I have your answer Galaxy Commander Aleksandr Jorgensson.”
Minutes passed before a ‘Kodiak’ stepped forward with its command ‘Trinary’ the mech’s immense claws inspired as much fear as his own’s ‘Death Head’ but he had seen them in action before. “And what have you decided, Duke Kelswa, will you surrender?”
“Ich werde nicht.”
The claws opened, “Very well then. Sigma, destroy them, but leave the Duke to me.”
-
Chapter 11 – Homefront
12/02/3051
A COMSTAR white and blue Oceanic III Helicopter soared over the traffic snarled asphalt of the highways, and light gray concrete, and glass of a modern metropolis. It crossed the mighty New Danube where the LCAF’s 2nd Royal Guards patrolled the ‘Giant’s Walk’ that dominated the greenbelt between Tharkad City and Olympia. The military and police presence as well as civilian demonstrators grew more apparent the closer as the helicopter approached The Triad, the very heart, and brains of the Lyran Commonwealth.
It set down on the helipad closest to the Archon’s palace and a middle-aged man with a Precentor-Advocate amulet disembarked as soon as the rotors stopped spinning followed by three others. They faced Mount Wotan in the distance, the military mind and fist of the LCAF, as a half dozen men in dark suits and sunglasses crested the stairs, each one indistinct and unremarkable in their appearance, “Precentor-Advocate Casimir Bridges at your service gentlemen.”
Each looked toward one another in turn their eyes concealed by sunglasses, and he knew the Diplomatic Guard had more concealed beneath their jackets, “Follow us sir.”
His Mu bodyguards and Lydia, his Tau secretary followed, “No weapons or entourage.”
“You can take our weapons,” Isaac the senior Mu unholstered his laser pistol from his baldric, his junior Ezra followed, before they passed them to the LIC officers, “but we will not leave our Precentor’s side outside the HPG complex. He is a member of COMSTAR’s First Circuit and our responsibility.”
They spoke in Gaelic toward one another and over the radio, Casimir cursed silently, the only language spoken within the Commonwealth that he didn’t speak yet. “We will allow this, but do not push yourself Precentor, the Archon is very displeased with you.”
“Oh, I know, and I expect that to continue Kapiten Mueller.”
“You should hope it shall not.”
Casimir gathered the hem of his formal robes and followed them downstairs, “Reality gets in the way unfortunately.”
Archon Melissa Steiner stood behind her desk flanked by her husband, Thomas Bradford, Duke of Coventry, and ‘Aunt’ Anette Steiner, Duchess of Somerset. Her hands were sprawled out over the printout of the Tamar March, now mostly occupied by The Clans. An urn of tea sat perched precariously on a centuries old gilded end table made from a tree now extinct beside them.
Her door opened at the touch of a page, “Archon, Precentor-Advocate Bridges and companions await you.”
Melissa stood up and checked her blouse for any stains or wrinkles, Anette confirmed she was presentable with a nod, “Admit them please Dren.”
Casimir strode in before his entourage, his bodyguards glued to his back while the secretary looked serene and remained utterly silent. “I am here as you requested Archon Steiner. What can the Blessed Order of COMSTAR do for you?”
She took in a deep breath and walked over to him with courtly grace, “How about you start telling me the ****** truth!”
-
Comstar telling the truth? Mission impossible.
-
Casimir took a deep breath after withstanding a fusillade of foul language in four languages. Lydia seemed to astonishingly kept up with it on her stenography tablet. If she would talk, he was certain she could tell some stories. “Madam Archon, I understand your displeasure.”
She snapped toward him close enough that he felt Ezra move as if to block a punch from her with his own face if necessary. “Do you really Precentor! Then clearly transmit it to the Primus and confess. Why didn’t COMSTAR tell us this would happen?”
“COMSTAR was unaware that this would happen.”
“Is that so?
“Do you think I am a fool Casimir?”
Melissa pulled out a pair of folders stamped with the desk seals of the First Prince of the Federated Suns and Chancellor of the Capellan Confederation and slapped them beside her map. “I received two missives by jump courier from Ian and Tormano inquiring as to why the White Star Fleet was heading Anti-Spinward in September.”
Anette’s face was suddenly filled with worry, “Just as Somerset and the others went off-line. Which means you knew in advance what was coming, and you didn’t tell us.
Why?
“Was it so you could take advantage of the charter rates?
Up thirty times what they normally would be, every dropship and shuttle is overbooked solid in the arc from Winter to Laurent.
Each filled to the brim with the wealth and pampered asses of corporate bosses and their key personnel. It sickens me, but without the HPGs I could not impress Merchant Spacers to the LCN’s service to force them to take more passengers.”
Thomas finished his drink which certainly didn’t look like tea. “And so many of them are heading to Coventry since Prince Magnusson closed the border. It’s a bloody mess Precentor.”
“One I would like to assure you that COMSTAR is moving to handle. We are mobilizing humanitarian relief through the League, any spare space on COMSTAR vessels is to be allocated to civilian evacuation as per my command. COMGUARDs are being mobilized from Terra to secure our HPGs and along with the CSC will help the LCAF however we can.”
“Giving us forewarning would have been a greater help than anything your Precentor Martial can muster now. Roman is not only worried sick about Sarah but I’m certain he hasn’t slept in a month.”
“We didn’t know where they were coming from, how many there were, or their purpose Archon.”
Lydia activated her holoprojector built into her hairband which showed a montage of the Explorer Corps investigation into the disappearance of their base on Columbus. Everything was eerily silent but neatly in place within the holocube except for one book in the library but the footage was to blurry to make out the writing upon it.
“We first encountered them on Columbus, coreward of the Draconis Combine, but they left nothing behind, even abducting hundreds of our mission personnel. This is why I requested the region near Elissa be prepared to evacuate should they come under attack. Precentor Antonov of Rasalhague did the same. Our duty is first to our people, then to the Inner Sphere, and that requires us not aid any enemies to the Inner Sphere.”
“Except yourselves.” Melissa whispered so quietly that even his enhanced hearing had trouble discerning it.
“The only things we know about them are because of Phelen Kell and his companions reports to Mimir. Precentor ROM Seneca has sent agents to Outpost, but it will take several weeks perhaps before they can debrief him properly.”
“We don’t have weeks Precentor and tell Charles to save his headshrinkers. Morgan is already en route to recover him and if the Kungliga Flotten wants to fight the Kell Hounds to enforce their blockade then best of luck to them because I can tell you personally that is man that is not used to taking no for an answer.”
She shuffled through a mismatched batch of reports and pulled one from the stack, “The whole of the Wolf Dragoons has also arrived on Solaris, but you probably knew that because you hired them.”
“We didn’t hire the Wolf Dragoons Archon.” Casimir folded his hands and lifted his brow, “Their presence is not unexpected, but it is curious.
Perhaps they are here at the request of the First Prince. We are aware that he has had… difficulties …on his border with the Draconis Combine in recent years, not even limited to Luthien either.”
“Despite being an only child, I am aware of family struggles, Tormano has told me quite a few very disturbing stories.
However, Ian would have told me if he intended to send regiments of mercenaries into my realm.”
“Then I suppose we should jointly find out why they are here, what they want, and how they intend to aid us, unless it is some manner of betrayal and whatever they are is related to these Clans in some manner.”
Melissa’s eyes were icy cold, “I suppose we shall then. We are in this fight together now.
Keep me in the loop Precentor Bridges, unless you want to face a different one…
and a long drop.
You are dismissed.”
He bowed slightly, respect, not reverence, as far as COMSTAR is concerned they were equal.
“Until we see each other again then Archon.”
-
Comstar being as slimy as ever, they probably intend to let the Clans wreck Commonwealth maximally, so they can then sweep in and reduce the industrial powerhouse of the Inner Sphere into vassal state.
-
Comstar being as slimy as ever, they probably intend to let the Clans wreck Commonwealth maximally, so they can then sweep in and reduce the industrial powerhouse of the Inner Sphere into vassal state.
Or they literally were caught by surprise from alien invaders with advanced technology attacking on the total other side of the Inner Sphere from Columbus.
12/08/3051
A screen shows Precentor-Advocate Casimir Bridges walked behind a phalanx of Mu bodyguards and PST (Tharkad City Police Department) as reporters across the Commonwealth assailed him in Tharkad City. His limousine sandwiched between Polizei vehicles, and a pair of white Chevalier tanks marked with ‘COMGUARDS’ along the flanks in blue with the Upward Sword of Light logo (of the COMGUARDS) on the glacis.
“Precentor Bridges, did you know that the Clans were coming!?”
“Can you give us a statement about what COMSTAR is going to do to help the Commonwealth?”
“Are you working with them?”
“The public demand answers!”
The screen turns black at the command of Ranking Precentor Sigma Tulla Samaras and the windows open to the unsettled Atlantic Ocean off Hilton Head Island. “Do we have answers Primus Waterly?”
Primus Myndo Waterly paused to scan the room, the Ranking Precentors from COMSTARs ‘civilian’ branches waited for her. “Nothing that will satisfy them.”
“Then give me something, anything Primus. The whole Inner Sphere is crying out for information.
The Order’s public relations are my priority. If we leave the people of the Inner Sphere in the dark on these important matters, they shall distrust us and that could lead to our ruin. Our reputation cannot take another battering like it did after the Capellan Civil War.
Archon Steiner has quietly and possibly indirectly instituted a smear campaign against the Order. We need to get ahead of her, or the damage will not just be limited to our egos.
We need to do something big and public to show that we are truly providing support to the Lyran Commonwealth.
Let me tell them about the Precentor Martial’s preparations.
Give me access to Precentor Commodore Beresick at least!”
“You will provide no comment on our military preparations Precentor Samaras. Focus on humanitarian support instead.”
“That won’t move the needle, Primus. The Lyran Commonwealth has a vast jumpship fleet of their own and wealth enough to rivals ours and purchase supplies. What they don’t have are Warships or the ability gathered over generations to arm and sustain millions of soldiers.
With what the Precentor Martial is planning it will come out eventually. Let me at least control the release of this information, if we don’t do it then others shall, and we look foolish.”
Myndo once more to a moment to think and walked over to the window, “You all have similar concerns I gather.”
The other ten Precentors assembled nodded or otherwise signaled that they did. Primus Waterly rested her head on the window glass, “I presume you already have plans as well. Let me hear them then and maybe we can begin implementing them.”
----
12/12/3051 | Boulder, Hot Springs, Clan Occupation Zone
The city of Boulder was filled with streets and people that seemed to be carved out of the basalt itself. Bridges gracefully spanned canals bustling with boats and greenbelt filled with wildflowers bursting with color. Two figures in goldenrod outfits marked with Nova Cat or Merchant and ilClan (Red Daggerstar) logo walked each of them in turn knocking on every door they came across.
One of them a lithe woman paused to sit on the stone wall, remove her sandals, and dip her feet into the canal. She rolled up the bottom of her shirt like the other women seemed to do within this city and began to feel some relief. “Why do they have so much space between residential units? My feet and this heat are killing me.”
Patrolman Kech loomed over her drawing attention to himself even within a city filled with impressive specimens. More importantly he wore Aketon soft armor with its integral cooling, hydration, and medical system in addition to mounts for his pistol, magazines, and radio. “You had the option to bring a cooling vest with you Indigo.”
“It was going to be too heavy for walking around in all day in. Not all of us grew up in one. I need to get a dress like these local women have, they look comfortable even in this tropical heat and humidity.”
“I received my first Aketon in Sibko. Should I requisition an umbrella to provide shade?”
“No, I can manage.” She drank for a canteen on her belt, “You have worn armor and grown a hundred and fifty centimeters since Sibko.”
“I am only two point two meters tall. Small even by Nova Fox breeding ranges. There are numerous other Freeborns just within this city that are larger than me and pose a potential threat to our safety.”
“Or opportunity Kech.”
“Perhaps you think of them that way.” A group of men passed them by carrying heavy tools he presumed were used for shipbuilding, “I was trained to see everything as a threat until proven otherwise. Are you ready to continue?”
She splashed some canal water onto the cloth wrapped around her head, “What is the rush? We just started this Census.”
“Mobility is paramount to our security. The threat of hostile action has not yet been negated.”
“Fine. I guess there will be more time to enjoy the view later.” Indigo donned her sandals then stood up; her head barely reached to his upper torso. With her free hand she massaged the back of her neck, “Working with you since yesterday has given me a crick in my neck.”
“I can suggest exercises to strengthen those muscles, improve your posture and walking performance.”
“Maybe we talk about that later big guy.”
They crossed the bridge, Indigo consulted her chart and knocked on the door, a middle-aged man answered, “Good Afternoon, I am Junior Merchant Indigo, and this is Patrolman Kech of Clan Nova Fox. We are conducting a Census in this area.
Are you Doctor Solomon Goddard presently employed by the Institute for Advanced Studies in Physical Therapy?”
“I am.”
Indigo checked a box on the sheet and flipped it to show an information card on his household, “Can you confirm this information?”
Doctor Goddard hesitated, “Why? Are you going to use it to calculate my taxes and rent too?”
Indigo sighed, “Why do they keep talking about taxes and rent Kech?”
“I do not know Indigo.”
“We really should suggest a large announcement and mailing campaign.”
“It would dramatically improve our door-to-door efficiency.”
“What are you two talking about? This is why governments do Census right?”
“The Clans do not charge taxes or rent. Your profession suggests you will be assigned a position within the Scientist cache whenever we get around to proficiency testing and caste integration.
Thus, you will be allotted a space, probably the one you currently reside in, to serve as your primary residence area and appropriate utilities to maintain it and the members of your household.”
“So, no taxes or rent?”
“Aff," She pushed the clipboard closer to him with a pen in the other hand, “please confirm this information so that we may continue.”
-
Or they literally were caught by surprise from alien invaders with advanced technology attacking on the total other side of the Inner Sphere from Columbus.
And their response was policy of informational blackout that greatly benefited the invaders.
-
And their response was policy of informational blackout that greatly benefited the invaders.
It was that or being forcibly co-opted by them to the advantage of the invaders. It has only been a little more than two weeks since Phelen and Diana got back into Inner Sphere controlled space at this point.
-
what is the status of clan Blood Spirit in this timeline
-
what is the status of clan Blood Spirit in this timeline
5th Clan Annihilated or Absorbed, in the 28th Century
-
12/22/3051
Wind blew up loose debris around sleek Beacon dropships and bulbous Mules resting on the ferrocrete. A late spring rain threatened Odessa III’s primary star-port situated upon open arable plains beyond New Bealton. Dozens of stormy blue-gray painted tanks drove off ramps positioned at the open cargo doors of their freighters. ‘COMGUARDS’ was painted in matte white on the track skirt with the upraised Sword of Light, symbol of the formation, upon the glacis. Drivers waited at the staging point in pristine white helmets and gray tanker’s uniforms ready for a parade. There was to be no parade this day however instead wheeled tank transporters waited for the machines to be loaded upon their backs then driven to the unusually well-equipped planetary militia’s training grounds.
Three white helmeted and gloved officers viewed the assembly by binoculars maintaining order and controlling traffic via a large radio set upon a metal folding table. “Road train Six-Eight-One is approaching from the south, Drivers One through Ten go to assembly point Orange.”
“Roger that Commander. Moving to assembly point Orange for loading.”
Two individuals in white robes approached them from behind, one of them stood behind a woman with an unloaded carbine slung behind her back. “Carol, the last time I saw you with a gun is when we were fleeing the Baron’s men on Timehri.”
She turned to look at and embrace her brother, “Jared, last time I saw you was six years ago, before you left for Terra.”
“It is probably better that way sister.” Jared brought attention to the Rho insignia on his robes. “When did they start taking teachers into the COMGuards?”
“When we started volunteering.
COMSTAR is unlimited, its strength lies in encouraging the faithful to reach their full potential.”
He looked at the insignia on her jumpsuit and ‘Summers,’ their last name, stenciled upon it, “Tank Commander?”
“I was the only one that could fix and ride grandpa’s tractor.
Back when we had a family farm,
and a family.”
They looked down and aside, “That was a long time ago.”
“I know. Apparently, operating a tracked vehicle is like riding a bike. I passed the test, so they gave me a tank to command.”
“What brings you here brother?”
“Secret project, although my superiors allowed me a day of liberty to see my sister. I had expected to see you teaching the Neophytes however.”
“I suppose I still am. They assigned me to training new drivers for now until we have gathered enough forces, or the Clans arrive above Odessa.”
Jared gave a mischievous smile, “I do hope they come, we have a surprise in store for them.”
-
Oh I bet they have...
Good to see the story continue! How much does the rest of the sphere know about the situation in the Commonwealth? It would be an utter shame if some neighbours were to take advantage of the confusion...
-
They do know that worlds on their border are falling and thus Commonwealth is being invaded. As for details, I reckon Comstar is letting them in dark, just like they let the Lyrans.
-
Chapter 12 – A House of Stone
12/23/3051
Archon Melissa Steiner strode through her Palace beneath leering gargoyles and centuries old artistic masterpieces. Her journey took her across the loggia overlooking her Throne Room, now vacant of its guardian Griffins and sharpshooters that could take down any interloper within its vast emptiness, halting at an ornate oak door fronted by a parlor within which stood a pair of Diplomatic Guards. They saluted as she approached, “Duchess Steiner is waiting for you, Your Majesty.”
She walked through the door to smell the herbal aroma of fresh tea filling an office seeped in grandeur. Melissa removed the strainer and set it aside before turning to see the older and still glamorous woman neatly tucked into the leather chair. “You took that mint from the gardens didn’t you.”
The woman gracefully returned her cup to the gilded saucer, “I wanted it to be fresh Archon.”
Melissa matched her ‘Aunt’s’ posture, both had gone to the same finishing school in Tesseraburg and it was a shared learning. “I appreciate the extra effort Anette, and your gifts for Arthur and Katherine.”
“Just a few things I picked up with Walter on our trip to Rewland.”
A sheaf of papers was shuffled across the desk, COMGUARDs force depositions from Odessa, detailed manifests from Isesaki Shipping, strings of Capellan Confederation based front companies, intimate details from the Outworlds Free Trader Corporation and military suppliers from every corner of the Inner Sphere. All showing how the Blessed Order had accumulated armies of combat vehicles and battlemechs for the ‘security of the Inner Sphere’ without anyone noticing. “but how did you get these? What sources do you have that I do not?”
Anette smiled ruefully, “Do you want to compare numbers Archon?
I was banished from Tharkad by Katrina for a reason. While I may not be capable of everything I once was, I was quite capable once.”
“So, you are calling in favors?”
“For services rendered and secrets kept.
Anything that can help get me back to Somerset and my sons.”
“I understand this is difficult for you Anette. I would be as troubled if our places were switched, and it were my family behind enemy lines. We will of course do everything we can to stop the Clans, but we need a win first and time for our forces to prepare a counterattack.
My hope is that COMSTAR evacuating their people and information about the planets off-world while disabling the HPGs will slow the Clans down. Otherwise, they have blinded us.
We only have Phelen’s reports and Steel Viper defectors to go on now.”
“There will be others I am sure of it.”
“I appreciate your optimism.”
“Do not lose hope that things will improve Melissa. At least we have something to focus on now.
We just need to stem the tide and turn it against itself.”
“I fear that there may be a crack in our seawall.”
There was an unconscious hitch in her otherwise smooth movement, “Roman?”
“I’m afraid so. Someone needs to speak to him, and I think it needs to be you. He won’t listen to me.”
“What makes you think he will listen to me? We haven’t spoken since…”
“Because Sarah didn’t get off Chateau when the Steel Vipers attacked and only a few people know.”
-
12/27/3051
Commanding General Roman Steiner exited the concrete bunker and into another dour room filled with grim faced soldiers. His shaggy brown hair was streaked with gray, uniform with sweat, and he had forgotten when he last had time to take a shower. Lian, his staff office stood at attention looking his way with discomfort. “Speak Hauptmann.”
“Duchess Steiner is waiting on the ramparts for you General.”
Roman replaced his shirt with the one from his desk, “Which one?”
“Anette.”
The brass buttons on his white uniform shirt shined under the light but omitted the tie, running his hand back to tie his hair in a queue, bearing a grimace. “What does she want?” He growled.
“To speak with you on the ramparts.”
“Why not here?”
“I didn’t ask. She just left to walk on the ramparts after telling me this.”
“By herself.”
“She is a member of the Estates General.”
“That doesn’t mean she can do what she wants on my mountain.”
Lian shifted under his gaze, “It is not my place to tell her that General.”
“Very well,” Roman donned the dark blue peacoat from the closet, “then I shall.”
Cool night winds blew from the Bremen Sea toward Mount Wotan Military Reservation, Tharkad and Olympia, the Lyran Commonwealth’s twin capital cities glittered in the distance. Beneath these ramparts was an extensive array of fortifications and bunkers capable of withstanding anything short of a persistent saturation attack by hostile Warships, a threat only capable in theory…until now.
Anette’s brown hair came unbound from beneath her hat with a strong gust. A voice attached to boot steps approached her, “It is a long hike down. I hope you brought your furs, Duchess.”
She wrapped the ermine trimmed shawl about her, “I always do when I go to the mountains, General.”
Roman stood at the battlements beside her, “Why did the Archon send you. of all people to speak with me?”
“Shock value. You know Melissa, always being so dramatic.
It wasn’t my choice.”
“How long has it been cousin?”
“Thirty six years. A lifetime ago.”
“Two lifetimes ago, If I could take it back I would.”
She took a deep breath, the memory of her mother’s suicide and her own time at 'The Institute' on Gallery equally unpleasant. “None of us can though. As much as my uncle thought it would hurt your career, he was gravely wrong. Although perhaps not completely. I know about Sarah, but have you told Joan and your granddaughters yet?”
He rubbed his hands together to warm them, “No. Phelen escaped, there are probably still resistance units laying low on the occupied worlds.”
“Phelen Kell has the misfortune of being part of a particularly reckless group of mercenaries. You’d have to launch a mission from the FRR to get her back and the Elected Prince would never allow that.”
“He could be convinced…” Roman clenched his fist on the railing but Anette put her hands over his.
“It’s not going to happen.”
“You sound very confident. Don’t you want to do the same for your sons.”
She moved one of her hands to cover her heart, “Of course I do but they’d only just charge right back into the enemy if I did. Sarah and Leo would do the same.”
Roman breathed deep and clouds bellowed forth from his nostrils, “What would you have me do then?”
“Your job.”
“But I cannot even protect my own daughter.” She sensed the profound shame in his voice and a tear.
“They knew what they were getting into when they enlisted. You don’t need to protect them. You just need to think of a way to stop the Clans and get them back.”
“I don’t know that I can.”
Anette caressed the pillar holding up the sloped ceiling, “I had to take a sculpture class in art school. I didn’t want to, it sounded like a lot of hard dusty work, and I had more interesting things to do. Parties to attend, scandals to cause.”
“If this is going to be a very rambling speech save it. We have a war to fight, I need a shower, and rest.”
“While that is certainly true, we both know that neither of those things are going to happen tonight unless you listen to me.
So, the instructor had a very interesting background, he was an architect as well as a sculpture. He reminds me of the duality of our House. Steiner, someone that works with stone.
The same stone that builds fortresses or walls can be turned into a work of art. Mount Wotan for instance, fortress and wildlife preserve, always prominent never intrusive. The Triad, surrounded by mighty walls and heights while being filled with awe-inspiring masterpieces.
We Steiner are not easily turned. Melissa has made you the architect of the modern LCAF Roman, now you must sculpt it to task. Take away everything else until you have only what you need. We believe you can do it, and I think you need to as well.
You just need to think differently, less hammer, more chisel.
Until then Melissa and the Estates General will see that the walls of our House are well buttressed against this storm.”
-
With Comstar blinding them, how much do they know of Clan tactics and capabilities?
-
With Comstar blinding them, how much do they know of Clan tactics and capabilities?
What Diana knew and the Kell Hounds found out. However, some things remain unknown (like the SXR project) and these Clans are not as hidebound and wilier than their OTL counterparts.
01/08/3052
Rewland sprawled out beside the equatorial Glotte Sea, it was a small city in population and height, no one wanted to ruin the ocean view or share their space. Rewland College of Fine Arts, the Commonwealth’s premier institution for such things, was indistinguishable from the other carefully landscaped mansions nestled within the hills.
Within her late mother’s house, one of the smaller ones near the college, Anette Steiner leaned into a man with graying hair but firm resolve on his face. They looked out at the cruise ship sparkling for the city pier. One of many that along with the city heliport ferried passengers throughout the New Bismark Archipelago carrying Tharkad’s elite to their own private islands and workers to the oil rigs anchored to its seafloor feeding the planetary industries insatiable hunger for more material.
“I am very tired Walter.”
“Of anything in particular?”
“Waiting, the Clans haven’t moved since taking Tamar.
Every day more ‘Noble Rulers’ take refuge in the capital instead of standing their ground.
Even Rewland is getting crowded, I’m sure that ship will be filled with overflow, every hotel room on world is occupied by people that escaped the invasion zone with their treasures intact.
Everyone will talk about how brave the LCAF is while refusing to pay their taxes and moving their wealth out of the Commonwealth before the Kroner tanks.
It sickens me.
How can we resist the invaders when everyone that can afford the ticket abandons their world at the first sign of trouble? Have we really fallen so far?”
“I know. This is difficult for me too. If I were a younger man, I’d be the first one to volunteer on a mission to find our boys.
I unfortunately can’t help you motivate the nobles to stand by the Commonwealth’s values and not just their own value.”
“I just don’t know what to do. The Estates General has become draining, everyone just shifts blame to cover their ass instead of solving problems.”
He clasped her hands in his, “Get some rest, and just keep trying. That’s the best you can do for yourself right now.”
She buried her head into his shoulder as he stroked her hair, “Do you think they are ok?”
“I think we taught them well. They’re smart boys they will figure something out.”
12/08/3051
The Fury dropship landed at Somerset Military Academy’s starport. A storm was approaching from the West as dozens of Spheroid POWs shuffled down the steep ramp to the sound of stun sticks and medusa whips. “Move faster! We will take off before this storm arrives.”
They were greeted by a bus whose Academy Seal hastily repainted to Clan Star Adder’s insignia. One of them shouted at the assembled Patrol officers that took custody of them from their Mongoose captors. “What did you do to my brother!”
“Shut up worm!” Shouted their gracious ‘host’ that had stuck them in the cramped platoon compartments that smelled of sweat and despair. “You are their problem now.” He shoved the clipboard back at the attending officer a woman by uniform, but he couldn’t see her face behind the helmet. “Watch out for that one, he is nothing but trouble.”
“Thank you for the warning, Patrol Commander. Prisoner Three-One-Zero. The Commandant wishes to see you alone.”
She looked toward the Mongoose Patrol who split off to supervise the loading of supplies from the Starport onto their dropship. “With no cameras.”
Two men hauled him away into a Patrol car and drove away as the Fury launched back toward space and its next prisoner transfer. They sat in quiet as the officer drove toward the Academy and beyond.
“Where are you taking me?”
“Somewhere with no cameras.”
“If you just intend to shoot me, get it over with.”
“That would be too easy for you Kapiten Andrew Steiner.”
“So, you know me?’
“Of course, I do,” Rachel removed her helmet and shook her hair loose at the stop light, “I’m actually insulted you don’t remember me. Has it really been that long?”
“Lieutenant Spector?”
“Just Rachel is fine.” The guard beside him undid his handcuffs.
“What happened to Adam?”
“He’s still in charge. It’s complicated, but he has a plan. One he’ll be happy to explain when we get there.”
-
Clanners don't even know they have trouble and they already have it in stereo.
-
Chapter 13 – Brothers in Arms
12/08/3051
Andrew, Rachel, and a pair of Academy cadets pulled into the garage attached to COMSTAR’s Somerport Grange. He stepped out to stare at the aerials shifting in the wind, each blinking red in ordered periods. He looked over to Rachel who gestured for the cadets to remain near their car, “What happened to COMSTAR?”
“They evacuated after detecting the Clans.”
She opened the door to enter the darkened lobby where Constables and Public Works employees carried printouts or pushed equipment on dollies to replace what was removed. “Kowloon’s COMSTAR personnel didn’t get a chance to bail. Mongoose forces had already blockaded the planet by the time they made planetfall.”
“I don’t know how they had some advance warning here, but they had their Beacons loaded up and immediately ready to move so the preparations had already occurred. According to our Merchant overseer COMSTAR withdrawing from our planets has slowed them down.
Hard to route logistics without an HPG network. Since COMSTAR scrambled their central databases, it has been difficult to begin utilizing civilians. It has taken us a month to get Somerset functional again.
Our Clan masters have been slow to provide additional starlift but they have given us trucks and some light military equipment to guard the ‘prisoners.’”
“They gave Adam military equipment?”
“Almost everything he asked for.”
Constables saluted him as they recognized him with mutters of ‘thank goodness you are alive.' He stood taller than before, “What a bunch of idiots. What happened to the Militia?”
“What militia? We never had a militia on Somerset as far as INTELSTAR is concerned.”
They chuckled as they walked through the corridors, “I thought Star Adder was supposed to be the smart Clan.”
“I don’t seem to be a high bar.
Why don’t you change and relax a bit? Adam will come and get you in an hour.”
Andrew found his way to the Grange’s open dormitory, row upon row of empty beds with full lockers. He stopped at the Prior’s door and entered to see a seabag marked ‘Steiner, Andrew’ on it. A tear came to his eye channeling down the mensur scars he had gotten at Sanglamore. “You never gave up hope did you little brother?”
He showered away the filth accumulated during his transit from Kowloon on that Fury and cleaned himself up in other ways. Being back in his own clothes with his lozenges attached even on his normal clothes made him whole in a way that he hadn’t felt before. Someone had snuck in a plate of cold cuts while he was in the shower, he consumed them and was woken from his nap by a knock on the door and familiar voice.
Adam embraced his brother as he opened the door, “I’m so glad you’re back.”
“Glad to be back, little brother.
You’ve been busy,” Andrew looked at his brother in his Star Adder uniform, “Star Commander.”
“You haven’t seen the half of it yet. I have a plan and now that you’re back it might even work.”
“Is this like that time with the sorority?”
His brother looked out of the now rain streaked windows toward the Academy as they walked through the grange, “Better.”
“If you say so. I have some stuff to share with you as well.”
Rachel and the others had gathered in one of COMSTAR’s workrooms now refitted with what was lost. From here they could ‘sense’ and access the planetary telecommunication network as well as the few satellites which had been boosted back into orbit by shuttlecraft after COMSTAR sought to deorbit them. A basketball sized holoprojection of Somerset’s present state appeared in mid-air from the holoprojector built into the ceiling.
“Let’s go over the plan with the Kapiten.”
A large cylindrical vessel replaced the planetary orb as Rachel passed out briefings, “This is a Volga class factory ship. The Clan Council has been using these to extend their supply lines from the Chainelaine Islands. They basically live off the production from these vessels which fill the cargo bays of smaller Carrack transports or dropships. It saves valuable travel time because otherwise the Potemkins would need to jump between here and the Chainelaines for resupply.
Based on Adam and I’s interviews with Somerset Merchant Factor Rhonda and Midnight Star’s Captain Topi they are operated mostly by the Merchant Caste and poorly defended. Insurrections on and COMSTAR’s abandonment of occupied worlds have forced more personnel forward than were initially anticipated. Due to this complication these vessels have begun circulating throughout the Occupation Zone and one of their stops has been Somerset.
Commandant Steiner has requested mostly small arms from INTER-LOGI on purpose, automatic shotguns, laser rifles, and personal armor. They have also provided us with more shuttles in lieu of the Beacon vessels that left with COMSTAR. The Clans see these as less valuable than heavier weapons, so they have given them to us without question.”
The projection was replaced by a wireframe view that showed the internal layout of the ship, “These however are the right kinds of weapons to overpower the Warriors stationed aboard these vessels.”
Andrew took one of the briefing notes in hand, “You want to take over a Clan Warship. Do you have any idea what they might do to Somerset in response?”
Adam put his hand on his brother’s shoulder, “Of course we know Andrew. That is why we haven’t done it yet.
That is the end goal, they only have a dozen of these things and one missing will cause all kinds of disruption, while giving us clan tech manufacturing. Our intermediate goal is to get someone out to tell Tharkad what we have found out about the Clan’s plans. While stealing a Volga will likely result in repercussions the odds are much lower if say an Explorer or Scout might got missing.”
Lieutenant Spector changed the projection to a tiny Explorer jumpship, “This is the SLS Cato, it is an unarmed Scientist operated craft, tasked with courier duty and navigation aids within the local region, and very regular in its route.
It is the perfect target as it can escape notice and the occupation zone. However, we need someone with experience leading and training small independent teams unconnected from Somerset’s loyal ‘Abtaka.’
Someone like you Andrew, or should I say Prisoner Three-One-Zero.”
He took in a deep breath, “Have you identified a team?”
His brother passed him a folder. “We have identified individuals with the right skills that might make a good team, but they need a strong leader. Someone not known to be associated with 'collaborators,’ maybe even someone with a grudge against the Adder Commandant.”
Rachel downloaded the specifics and handed him a discreet comm-pad. “We must make it look like you were a rogue actor, and we did what we could to stop you if we are to maintain control of the planet.
If they knew we were plotting against them they would send an occupation force. Right now, Somerset doesn’t even register on INTELSTAR’s awareness for anything other than as a dumping ground for incorrigible POWs.”
Andrew paged through the folder and the individuals dossiers, “I can do it.”
“I had no doubt big brother. It was more of a question of will than capacity.”
“At least I know Somerset is in good hands when I leave.”
The holoprojector went dark and the lights returned to full power, “What did you want to share with us from your time in captivity Andrew?”
“Apparently my scars and willingness to *uhum*, ‘buck’ authority were attractive to Mongoose Star Captain Greta Cage.” The faces of those assembled were a mixture of horror, compassion, and interest. “I’ve had worse times at shore leave on Kooken’s Pleasure Pit, but anyway they got used to me hanging around officer country.
There I overhead that Clan Mongoose and Nova Fox are executing the flanking action, ten Galaxies have been tasked with taking the Commonwealth’s Outer Worlds.”
They counted how many soldiers that would be, roughly 50,000 including all support personnel spread across more than a hundred worlds. Adam was fastest, “That is not enough men to go all the way to Buena.”
“Exactly, they intend to take as many worlds and cause as much fear as possible to overload the Core with refugees some of whom might be Nova Fox Watch agents, but those forces are brittle. They can’t hold that much territory and they know it but expect us to be fearful and remain in defensive positions around the core worlds like Alarion and Coventry. These are going to be crushed afterwards after their saboteurs and One Star Faith propagandists do their work.”
“Adam almost beat them here on Somerset. The element of surprise has been ruined. Roman can probably come up with a winning strategy given time and this information.”
“Yes, and apparently the Kell Hounds have been fielding equipment that is almost on par with the Clan’s own. For being so certain on the battlefield they are scared and recklessly pushing as quickly as possible to deny us parity in tech and numbers.
Their Warships can only do so much, and they are apparently afraid of COMSTAR, something about Outbound Light and Columbus.”
“One would think the opposite considering COMSTAR’s latest behavior.”
“Like you said the Blessed Order has done its damage and slowed their timetable. Maybe the Primus made an unintentionally wise choice withdrawing her people.”
“The only problem with her decision is that we can’t broadcast an HPG outside the occupation bubble. Your team will have to slip to the Free Rasalhague Republic instead.”
Andrew fast read the dossier, then memorized the photos and prisoner numbers of his potential team, “It’s only three jumps. I’ve got this.”
He then unclipped his lozenges and handed them to Adam, “So who’s beating me up before dropping me off at the penal colony?”
-
Chapter 14 – Catoblepas
12/09/3051
Andrew Steiner rose from his stiff cot, an upgrade from the pit and perhaps equal to Greta’s bed, from the pain of a bruised torso and arms. He walked to the vacant bathroom his hut shared with its neighbors in the pre-dawn light and looked into the mirror to wash his face before donning a new orange uniform. There was a wicked shiner under his right eye, he whispered to himself, “I appreciate you helping me sell this Adam.
However, I will get you back someday.”
He lingered there for a moment until more prisoners arrived, one of them stopped. A wiry wild looking fellow stood beside him and started brushing his teeth. His bright smile contrasting sharply with his dark skin “They did a number on you new guy.”
“Kapiten Andrew Steiner.”
“Like the Archon?”
“A distant relation.”
“Is that why they gave you the full body treatment?”
“No, the Commandant has a particular hatred for me.”
“What’d you do to him?”
“I’m his older brother. He got upset when he couldn’t get me to follow The Clan Way. Our mother would be so disappointed to see what he’s become.”
“He’s really drunk all that Clan venom then.”
Another pain came to his ribs, “Sure, feels that way. Who are you?”
“Jeremi Ankur, Jumpship Navigator.”
“Where’d they pick you up?”
“Baker Three, bad time to be on shore leave. They transferred me here with the first group to help set up the workshops.”
A trumpet blared across the prison camp its tinny report echoing off rolls of concertina wire and the woods that had slowed wind across the former farmland. There was nothing beyond the perimeter for kilometers around except roving patrols. All prisoners were herded neatly in the square as the Commandant marched around with his guards ensuring none were missing. He still had the gall to look down at them while wearing his LCAF officer’s helmet with its iridescent plume and horsehair for decoration in addition to his Star Adder Warrior’s uniform.
“Men, I trust you have all had a pleasant sleep.” He paused to stare at his brother with venom, causing discord with Jeremi and the others standing beside him, “Somerset is after all now known for its…hospitality.” The Commandant returned to his perch, “Your work details for the day have been delivered to the foremen.
The weather should be pleasant today.
Not that it would matter.”
Adam and Rachel drove off and the guards started gathering their workers. Andrew sighed as he was marched off toward the mess.
The mess obviously was under close surveillance and as a new arrival that meant Andrew was under even more. He sat beside a young woman with her blonde hair shoved into a bun who skillfully peeled a basket of potatoes and put the result in a bucket. “You’re slow new guy. You get that scar from the clans?”
Unconsciously his hand touched his face, “Sanglamore. Sorry about the speed but it’s been a while since I’ve had to serve on KP.”
“Dueling scar huh. It’s kinda handsome.”
“It’s done its work in the past. Kapiten Andrew Steiner, and you are?”
“Alexandra Sutton but you can call me Allie. Everyone else does.” She dumped the skins into a large container marked ‘pig feed.’ “Jeremi told me that you are the Commandant’s big brother.”
“Yeah, little bro has turned into a bit of tyrant in my absence.”
“It’s still better than when the Hell’s Horses overran Alyina.”
“What do you do?”
“Aero Tech, which is why they don’t let me work in the shop. They’re afraid of what I might do.”
“Are you any good at cooking?”
Allie punched one of his many bruises eliciting a pained groan and wrench of his arm. She leapt up upsetting the produce baskets and scattering their contents on the tiled floor, “Watch yourself! I’ve gotta sit here all day with you. Apologize! or I’ll take my chances in the cooler!”
Their guard rounded the corner at the shouting, “Everything alright here?” He patted the baton on his hip while staring at them.
Andrew looked between the two of them nervously. He put his hands out in calming fashion, “Sorry Allie. There’s no trouble officer.”
He didn’t seem convinced until Allie righted the baskets and began returning the contents to them. “Keep it down you two.” His hand went to his ear, “Everything is fine, just a civil disruption with the new guy.”
A moment passed, “I know we were warned about him.”
The guard pulled his chair from the corner to stare at them, “I’m keeping an eye on him.”
His day passed without further incident, Curfew was called, dorms were locked from outside, guards patrolled the grounds with dogs and less-than-lethal but still excruciating weapons. Jeremi snuck over to him whisper quiet. “You just had to ask her if she could cook, didn’t you?”
Somehow the pain from earlier returned in force with a grimace, “I learned my lesson.”
“Yeah, I bet you did. There are beatings a plenty here, no need to risk another one Kapiten.”
-
Assembling the team for the daring escape. I presume the main goal of stealing the science vessel is to pass all of the intelligence gathered on Clans to Tharkad and get them too coordinate with Adam's big move, when the time comes. Also to notify mother that they are both alive and well.
-
Those Volgas are really tempting targets. Limiting the Clans ability to resupply and providing mobile Clan grade production facilities to the Lyrans? That will force a reaction. I hope ComStar's fleet is ready and willing to help.
-
12/13/3051
Forklifts loaded pallets of missiles and black boxes with codes printed on them transferring them to the beds of 4x4 light and 6x6 medium GP trucks and toward Somerport’s Starport. Prisoners gathered around tables assembling circuit boards under the careful supervision of INTER-LOGI Technicians and more knowledgeable peers. Others circulated around picking up, inspecting, and placing the work into a transport container.
Andrew Steiner dabbed his soldering iron onto the printed board. A lean man with a neat queue stood over him before inspecting his pick-up work. “Three-One-Zero, you’ve gotten a lot better in the past few days.”
“Learned it during my tech classes at Sanglamore. Been out of practice since becoming a POW.”
“Keep up the good work. Everyone must pull their load. If we miss our quotas, we miss a meal.”
“Which is a pity, the food here is better than on Kowloon.”
“Yeah, the Commandant is a peacocking bastard, but Somerset’s produce beats ship food.”
“Greater truths have not been spoken. Kapiten Andrew Steiner, former MechWarrior.”
“Lieutenant Florentin De Luca, former ‘Merc’ Pilot. Nova Fox picked me up when we tried to ‘acquire some cargo’ from what we thought was a Hansa vessel.”
Andrew nodded, “I understand, did they?”
“No, but I spent a few weeks locked in a dark, empty EU with my mates until they finished their voyage. You ever seen a Clan Aerospace Pilot?”
“No. Why?”
“They’re weird, like Belter or Jarnfolk weird, long fingers and limbs, big eyes that can see in the dark supposedly, superhuman reflexes. I’ve never seen anything like it, and I’ve seen some weird stuff out there.”
“What is it that we’re making here Florentin?”
“Communications and Computer equipment. INTER-LOGI has also set up an optical cable foundry at an old glassworks.
In the other building they are making three flavors of something called the Advanced Tactical Missile.
I hear there are two others, but we don’t make them here, something about them being to volatile.”
“What are they using all this gear for?”
“COMSTAR bailed all over the occupation zone, took their toys with them and sent whole planets into darkness. Someone’s gotta replace it, the Commandant convinced them it could be us.
Now get back to work Kapiten, I want a warm dinner tonight.”
12/17/3051
Raindrops exploded as they landed in the many puddles within the cleared rail easement. All around them was the empty forest around the farming village of Haskell. Dozens of pickaxes, hammers, and mattocks fell in intervals so regular one would think they were guided by a metronome. Each impact cleared brush or hammered home the spikes that would stabilize the rail against the concrete rail ties.
Andrew Steiner wiped his forehead, the large man beside him shouted out, “That’s not gonna stop the rain mate.”
“It makes me feel better.”
A whip snapped behind them causing both men to peer backward to its wielder safe and dry in his rain poncho. “If you’ve got breath to speak! You’ve got breath to work! Get back to it.”
They had changed to dry clothes before boarding the bus to return to the prison camp before curfew. Warm meals were substituted for cold sandwiches and a large ration of Kvass, a slightly sour low alcohol drink made from stale bread, instead.
Guards walked down the alley. It was dark and many of the prisoners had already nodded off exhausted from their labors. The large man from earlier whispered to Andrew from behind, “How’d you end up with hard labor?”
“Got in a few fights and my work wasn’t up to par in the shops. How’d you get here?”
“Same, sailors on shore leave you know?”
“I’m aware, name’s Andrew Steiner.”
“Like the Commandant?”
“Didn’t expect to fight a Civil War with my little brother over our home world.”
“Tough break, I’m Oscar Rastan.”
“Where were you stationed?”
“Barcelona, with the Seventeenth Rangers. Jump Infantry.”
“Heard you guys gave the Hell’s Horses a good fight.”
“We certainly tried, but they were everywhere. We didn’t stand a chance against Armored Elementals.”
“Even unarmored Elementals seem formidable.”
“Their Patrol doesn’t even use clubs; fists hit like sledgehammers, plenty enough to kill a man.
Then, whatever soft suit they wear is impenetrable to any weapon short of an assault rifle and enables them to fight all day.
I thought I was tough but there is just no comparison between a normal man and one of them.”
“It’s going to be a difficult fight for the LCAF.” The guard passed them and chatted with the driver on the other side of the chain-link partition, “but some of us have been coming up with a plan.”
-
12/22/3051
Windows rattled as a chill wind blew through the hastily erected huts of Somerset’s ‘prisoners.’ Andrew and the others fell into their beds tucking themselves as best they could into the thin comfort of their issued wool blankets. Something crumbled in his pillowcase as the guards shut off the lights.
He pulled the note out sluggishly.
'Someone important is on the Cato. We are ready if you are. Launch within two days.'
Andrew swallowed the edible paper and laid back down. This was to be the last rest for a while, so he enjoyed it.
12/23/3051
Ambulances howled into Somerport’s medical center, EMTs and Prison Guards burst out of the doors as eight prisoners were wheeled into the emergency room. Attending doctors and nurses rushed to the aid of the vomiting or near comatose patients. A cacophony of voices filled Andrew Steiner’s mind even as his stomach emptied, “This is the worst case of food poisoning I’ve ever seen.”
“Get them IVs right away.”
“Run cultures to make sure it isn’t something else.”
“Put them in quarantine just in case.”
12/24/3051
Andrew snapped awake within the darkened quarantine rooms followed by the others. He turned toward the young woman across from him, “That was some prison escape Jacqueline.”
“Making my own Ipecac was not something to be taken lightly.”
“Well, you are the only person I’d trust to try.”
“Are you sure you made it correctly?” Oscar paused as he rose and slipped his legs over the bed.
“It got us here didn’t it.” Allie answered. “Now what’s the plan?”
“Break out of the hospital, head to the starport, steal a shuttle, then take the Cato as agreed.”
Another man replied, “Kapiten, are you certain your contacts are trustworthy.”
“Edgar, I am trusting them with and have known them all my life, so yes. We’ll swing by the abandoned Grange and upload your code. They will blame the lightning for the communication mishap rather than admit to sabotage.”
The conspirators gathered in the middle of the room whispering to one another, “How do we get out of here?”
“Oscar and I will get the door for you.”
Although heavy the door to the quarantine block was not immovable. Both men strained to keep it open long enough for Allie to reach the other side to disable the lock and alarm. To their relief the nurse was vacant and there were no guards present. The incessant beeping of tell-tales and whir of medical equipment disguised their efforts. “Good thing you are a small woman.”
“It helps get me into tight spaces which is very important on a ship. Even though it makes me look boyish.” She looked down at her prison uniform, “We have to ditch these clothes.”
“There is a locker room nearby.”
“How do you know Kapiten?”
“I was Academy Commandant before my brother. I spent some time here, chasing nurses.”
Jacqueline expressed her disapproval with a huff and jab to his back. “I thought you’d take that as a compliment.”
“Get on with it.”
“Yes, ma’am”
The Medical Center was eerily abandoned at night, cleaning robots mopped floors, transported linens, and disinfected procedure rooms. Jacqueline, Edgar, and Jeremi donned scrubs and a demeanor matching the night shift medics everyone else found street clothes in the lockers although Allie was forced to don men’s clothing for lack of a proper fitting disguise. They split up in the parking garage to find cars matching the keys they lifted from the locker room.
Both VW sedans rolled out to the rain-streaked and abandoned pavement of Somerport. Clan Patrol and Somerset Constable vehicles crisscrossed the town enforcing curfew. However, since their cars were registered to night shift hospital workers they passed without issue.
They pulled over around the block from COMSTAR’s former grange as lightning struck nearby. The grange was now covered in graffiti, abandoned, and dark. Andrew paused before to ensure it was clear of anything other than vandalized cars and fences.
“My contacts have left our disguises and kit within the dorms here. You all know your roles; we meet back here in fifteen.”
Fifteen minutes later Andrew and the others returned, both arms laden with duffels. Twenty minutes later took shelter under an overpass before changed into Merchant, Technician, and Laborer uniforms complete with codex IDs. Three Clan Pulse Laser rifles registered full charges as did two laser pistols, three stunsticks, and eight Buster E(ntry/ngagement)-Tools.
There were also two sets of false number plates for their cars. Allie changed them over with the blur of a whirring screwgun. She sat beside Andrew in the backseat of one of the cars, “How did they know we would be taking two cars? And my size?”
“Hard to fit eight people in one vehicle. Don’t you think?
Also, your size is registered for your prison uniform.”
She smoothed her damp hair, then looked down at her tan Technician’s coveralls with their three red sides on the upper arm pentagon, “I guess that makes sense.”
Andrew’s team approached the West Gate of Somerset Space Port, two Patrol Officers approached them while three more maintained their positions with hands on the Gauss SMGs visible on the outside of their foul weather ponchos. Oscar rolled down the window for them, “Name and Codex ID.”
“Oscar, Senior Laborer Two, Alpha Eight Five Bravo Mike. Heading to Hanger Echo-Niner.”
“What are you doing here this late? It is quarter past Oh Three Hundred.”
“This Starport is an all-day all-weather operation, quiaff?
“Aff,” The Patrol Officer looked at the number plate, his Commpad, then signaled to his companions who opened the gate, “move along.”
Hanger Echo-Nine was dark but open revealing the Ares Landing Craft within with its ramp down. The cargo hold was already filled with crates including one marked ‘Weingarten Specialty Liquor,’ alongside more common cargos such as liquified gases and spares parts. A large refrigerated container marked ‘frozen seafood, keep cold' dominated the other crates which were netted together on pallets locked into the floorboards.
Jacqueline, the ‘MedTech,’ found a place in the hold for her equipment, “How are they going to unload that container into a jumpship?”
Andrew kept watch from the ramp while Florentin, Edgar, and Allie started the pre-flight checklist, “You want to take this one Jeremi?”
Jeremi looked aside to her with his laser pistol out, “Normally they just unload crates directly from the container, it’s just easier to refrigerate a single larger package than a bunch of smaller ones.”
“That still seems very inefficient.”
“It is, but so would having corridors and carrying gear large enough for containers on a jumpship. They are almost all KF drive.”
“What is up with these Clanners and seafood anyway?”
“Beats me, we should ask our hostages when we get up there.” The ramp raised as the engines spun to life, Jump seats were built into an Ares’ cargo bay as they frequently carried soldiers into battle, “Now strap in everyone. We will have plenty of time for cultural exchange soon enough.”
12/18
SLS Cato drifted listlessly below Bone-Norman as an Astrolux shuttle approached it escorted by a pair of Sabutai fighters. As they approached visual range the stenciled writing on its flanks revealed the Explorer’s true name ‘Catoblepas’ and an insignia of a black octopus marked with sparkling blips of white reminiscent of stars. The Astrolux docked and disembarked its passengers while the Aerospace Pilots drifted into the same bay. A man waited by the ramp as a fit man with specks of gray in his coiffed black hair descended toward him, “Welcome aboard Director Peltier.”
They shook hands, both possessing signet rings marked with the same insignia as on the hull.
“Thank you, Cell Commander Knightly. I looked forward to our reunion and this liquor that the Somerset Merchant Factor raves about.”
“Yes sir, we shall arrive within that system in a few standard days.”
“Very well.” One of the Director’s assistants carried a stainless steel cylindrical with a strip registering its internal power supply, “Then we should get back to work.”
-
[Mission Impossible theme starts playing]
-
12/24/3051
Somerset’s primary cut through the early morning clouds as the night’s storm dissipated. Adam Steiner leaned on the damp balcony rails with a steaming mug of coffee in his hand. Rachel followed close behind, “Adam we seem to have lost long range communication last night.”
“I’m sure it was just lightning. It will be fixed in a few days.”
She leaned on the rail beside him, “I’m sure you’re right,” they both wore cautious smiles.
12/28/3051
Both Flight Officers fiddled with some of the many knobs and switches on the shuttles control console. Andrew tried to follow him and Edgar while he had no chance with Allie on the flight engineer’s console behind him. “How do you guys keep everything straight?”
Edgar kept his eyes on the RADAR returns and other instruments. “If we do it wrong, we might die.”
“Touche.”
The First Officer opened comms, “SLS Cato, this is Somerset Shuttle Alpha-Kilo Zero-Six-Four, awaiting final approach.”
“Roger AK Zero-Six-Four. Transmitting course projection. Confirm transmission.”
A radio beam emanated out of the much larger jumpship that was getting very close in their rear view. The Ares’ thrusters continued bleeding off the velocity they had built up over the first two days of transit. Somerset was one of few worlds where the recharge period and transit period lined up neatly with enough time to unload and reload cargo making it popular for the timeliness obsessed INTER-LOGI.
“We see it Cato.”
Floretin adjusted his course and bearing as the controls were already inverted as was normal for deceleration. “This is to easy Kapiten. Are you sure this isn’t some kind of trap?”
“Getting flashbacks Lieutenant?”
“I can’t say that I’m not.” He nervously gripped the toggles, “This is how I got pinched last time.”
“Just keep steady.”
“Roger that. Keeping steady.”
First Officer Schulz shouted, “Sir we have two RADAR contacts approaching. Fast.”
“What do you mean Edgar?”
“I mean we’ve got two bogies approaching at a high velocity.”
“Fighters?”
“Resolving images.”
Two color adjusted images appeared beside their scope contacts, “The Warbook calls these Sabutai, it’s a type of heavy fighter. If the stats are correct these things are monsters.”
“Knew it. You said this ship was unarmed!”
Andrew didn’t answer until the fighters came into visual range on either side of their shuttle, “But not defenseless it seems. Hold steady Helmsman, they are in enemy territory too. It’s only two Warriors.”
One of the Pilots opened comms, identified as ‘Sabercat One,’ they flipped and burned their thrusters faster than was protocol or survivable even for Inner Sphere pilots, “AK Zero-Six-Four, maintain course and heading.”
“Roger. Holding steady.”
Their Ares reached ‘relative’ stillness with the Explorer Jumpship which even though it was the smallest jump capable vessel in the universe still loomed over their small shuttle. The sleek Sabutai were lifted into the fighter bay by clamps while their Ares was pulled up to beside another shuttle.
Allie saw it in the rear view, “That’s an Astrolux Kapiten. Who’s on this ship?”
“I don’t know but we are going to find out.”
Andrew Steiner cracked his neck and knuckles before checking his uniform and keying the INTERCOM,
“Everybody get ready,” He donned his cap with the Merchant Foreman badge emblazoned on the front, “Our real mission starts now.”
-
I reckon INTER-LOGI Director would also have at least some of elementals as bodyguards, maybe a point? Element of surprise and pulse laser rifles should probably be enough to overcome them if they are out of armor.
-
Hopefully, but even their soft suits offer good protection as was mentioned earlier. Against ballistic weapons, at least.
-
“All hands report to the shuttle bay to expedite unloading.”
SLS Cato’s crew of thirteen Technicians and Scientists reported as ordered by their Leader, Commander Renmar (Knightly), assembling from all corners of the tiny Jumpship. Two small women, Point Leader Candida ‘SaberCat One’ and Aerospace Pilot Nimue ‘SaberCat Two’, stood by their Sabutais with arms folded over their chest on the opposite side of the bay. These doppelgangers wore white combat spacesuits that offset their slight builds, close cropped black hair, with pale skin, and the long slender fingers of a pianist. Cybernetic eyes gleamed under bright light along with the chrome pulse laser pistol at their thigh.
Director Reginald (Peltier) exited his Astrolux and stood in a loose medley of his own people, three Flight Crew including two similarly equipped female pilots, Two MedTechs, and a Junior Doctor from the Council’s Ministry of Biosecurity, at the base of their shuttle ramp. Commander Renmar strode over to him in a few bounding steps before anchoring himself to the floorplates, “Director you do not need to aid us. You are our guests.
My crew can handle the incoming cargo.”
“I will get something light. I cannot have everything just given to me Renmar.”
“If you wish, sir.”
The Ares’ ramp descended to the plates as a group of surly Somersetters strode down with their hands full of cargo boxes. Their leader stepped toward the Director and Commander, “Are you guys in charge?”
Renmar turned to face him, “Aff, I am Renmar Cato’s Commander.”
A noteputer was pushed toward him, although the Director lingered on the Merchant’s facial scars. “Merchant Foreman Andrew, please sign here,” Andrew looked at the Director who kept his eyes on him and saw the five Gold Faces on his Pentagon Caste Mark, “and I need a second signature for your special cargo sir.”
Reginald had a strange feeling that something was off with this Merchant, but he knew plenty of Nova Foxes that had retired into the Caste, perhaps this one was similar. “You want my signature?”
“Aff, the Commandant wants a guarantee his gift reached its intended recipient.”
“Very well.” The Director paused to write his signature with the stylus as Andrew held the noteputer out with his off hand. If one could peer beneath the carefully placed noteputer one would see the print on his uniform jacket, but he kept it close and made small talk while shouting out commands to his crew.
Andrew’s companions scattered throughout the bay with some of them passing crates down from the ramp while others were carefully placing them in neat rows for the Jumpship’s crew to transfer onward into their cargo bay. The cargo bay grew emptier and the Warriors less attentive while Andrew enraptured their Superiors with tall tales overheard in Starport pubs or his Stepfather.
As the Ares’ cargo bay and the energy of the jumpship crew waned Andrew clipped his noteputer to his belt, put his back to the nearest Warrior, and Reginald between the other pair. All four Warriors had begun to lose interest in their charge and apparently the large man clinging to the Astrolux behind him. “You know Reggie, this has been swell, I really wish I could stay.”
His hand grasped the other man’s shoulder, “You are rather bold Andrew.”
Reginald felt a hard object push into his back. Andrew whispered to him, “This bold enough for you. Tell your people to stand down Director, or else.”
“Who are you?”
“Colonel Andrew Steiner, LCAF, and we are taking this ship.” The Somerset crew positioned themselves in cover with good shots on the exposed Warriors and open metal boxes they were ‘fiddling’ with. “Tell your people to stand down.”
“They are the enemy!” Reginald said before Andrew clocked him with the butt of his laser pistol.
A gleaming bolt from Andrew’s pistol seared through Commander Renmar who attempted to reach for Andrew’s pistol. The atmosphere reeked of burnt flesh and cloth. Andrew hauled Reginald to a safe place and took up position to fire on the corridor leading into the Jumpship.
Oscar dropped down from his perch crushing one of the Warriors into the plates before she could draw her pistol and firing his rifle at the other one. Her armor failed and laser pulses dropped her immediately. He shouldered her companion and dropped down to cover before policing her weapons and wrapping her arms and legs with zip binders.
On the other side of the bay Edgar locked down the bay doors. Florentin and Allie made a break for the bridge before the crew could send a distress signal. Others pinned SaberCat One and Two down who had little protection or cover other than their suits.
Polymer melted or evaporated, and metal scorched under the intense heat of their fire making the air painful to breath. The Somerset crew crouched behind carefully placed containers packed with spare parts made of dense materials, impossible to melt with the women’s pistols.
Their fire became less frequent and powerful as the batteries and heat management ebbed. They charged across the bay catching the Lyrans off-guard, their fists swift and sure but they were still small and eventually succumb to the sheer mass of furious escaped POWs.
Jacqueline treated the wounded, bruises and burns, a broken nose, and arm while Oscar guarded their captives. Uninjured Lyrans swept up the rest of the crew and returned them to the bay. The dead were put in the airlock under vacuum, for now.
Andrew perched himself on a pile of crates to address the crew after confirming there were no more Warriors or similar threats onboard. “I am Colonel Andrew Steiner of the Lyran Commowealth Armed Force. I take you, the Cato, and everything on it as Isorla.”
He wrapped his arm around the Pulse Laser Rifle as a few of his crew stood below on the plates, “If anyone has a problem with that. Speak now, I'll let you off. Otherwise zip it and get to work because we’ve got places to be.”
-
Grand Theft Space Ship successful, they just need to avoid any Clan armed void assets until they are in the clear.
-
Chapter 15 – Guns, Germs, and Steel
12/29/3051
Oscar and Andrew transited the darkened corridors connecting the many small cells that formed the crew volume of SLS Cato, “We should space the Pilots Colonel.”
“I am not going to start spacing people. The Mongooses could have killed me but chose not to.”
He held the ‘slick’ (without grenade launcher or bayonet) Mauser 960 rifle tight to his chest as Cordelia and Vince passed on the way to the galley. Cato’s corridors were tight for the larger members of their party like Oscar, but perfectly sized for the slimmer Clanners while being navigable by more average people like Andrew. “We are at War Colonel. They didn’t kill you or us and now the Scientists have lost a ship because of it.”
“They are teenage girls.”
“They’re not, they just look that way. Each of them is a trained killer.
One of them broke Edgar’s arm before trying to suffocate us all by opening the bay doors.
We can’t trust them.”
They paused at one of the many T-intersections that bordered the ‘crew cube,’ “We’re not going to; they are locked in that supply room with two guards for a reason.”
“There are three of them and the door is plastic. They won’t even need a Buster tool to compromise it.”
“I’ll put you on permanent guard duty. You’re big and a trained killer, you can take them all.”
“I’m not sure I can, but if that is what you’d like me to do then so be it, Colonel.”
“Consider it an order Sergeant.” Oscar saluted and descended through the passage below.
Andrew continued forward and found the Bridge where Jeremi and Lieutenant De Luca worked their consoles. As a jumpship the Cato only had station keeping thrusters so there was little for a helmsman to do but issue slight corrections to avoid collisions. Navigator Ankur parsed through stellar coordinates within the NavComputer. Both saluted before returning to their work although Florentin kept his eyes on the secured bridge door with his laser pistol at the ready.
Jeremi’s eyes twitched as he ran a compass over the NavScreen, “Colonel, the next jump they were going to execute lies within The Dark Nebula.”
“Are you certain?” Andrew stood beside him as he ran the compass over the NavScreen, it indeed overlapped with the region of space known as The Dark Nebula, one filled with malformed stars spewing out lethal radiation and hazardous orbital objects that commercial spacers avoided.
“I am. I wish I had a COMSTAR Jump Computer to compare it with, but it is noted as a red dwarf system in this entry.”
“Maybe it is where they are hiding their ships,” Colonel Steiner muttered to himself.
“What sir?”
“Nothing. Plot a course for Wotan when the drive is charged.”
“We don’t know what the conditions are around Wotan sir.
There could be Clan Combat Vessels at the jump point.”
“Do it for now, Edgar is working on decrypting the communications the Cato has saved in its cache. Wotan is our best bet to reach the FRR otherwise find me a decent star within jump range in that direction.”
Jeremi went back to studying the projected star map with a nod. Andrew stood over Florentin’s console which was presently looking at Cato’s jump sail. “Any problems Lieutenant?”
“Neg, as one would say. Just keeping the comm array pointed toward Somerset. Planet’s been to quiet.
Are you sure they haven’t noticed our escape?”
“We won’t know, Edgar’s code might have been to good.”
Andrew stood at one of the two armored doors that barred access to bridge without authorization from inside. “Keep the door locked and rotate out in a few hours. Get some rest.”
“Aye Aye Skipper Steiner.”
Colonel Steiner squinted in the light accentuating the scar over his right eye, then growled, “If you never say that again, that would be great.”
---
Cato’s infirmary took up a full third of the vessel’s grav deck along with the galley, mess, and an exercise room. Nurse Jacqueline Fontana watched the Clanners tend to a collection of curious medical and biochemical apparatus.
She jumped at a touch on her shoulder and turned around to see Andrew looming over her. “Have you figured out what all this stuff is yet?”
“I’ve been busy.” She inhaled the mixed aroma emerging from a plastic pod with purplish lights above green sprouts within, “That is the herb garden.”
“Smells nice. Glad to have it near the galley. Having eaten so much bland space and prison food. Some terragon and dill on my frozen fish filet might taste the same as the finest branzino and capers prepared by the finest chefs on Skye.”
They walked past the Clan Techs and Scientists toward the medical beds and strange cylinders. “An isolation unit. It has a dedicated life support system disconnected from the ship.”
“Why?”
The Junior Doctor circulated toward them, “In case we have an infectious patient.”
Andrew faced the slender man with frosted blonde hair, “I am afraid we have not been introduced yet.”
His hand extended showing the single red face on his caste mark, “Junior Doctor Aras.”
“Doctor Aras would you please give us a tour?”
“If you wish it.” The Doctor attached the magnetic clipboard to a plaque above one of the strange steel cylinders beeping even tones and occasionally venting cryogenic nitrogen, “I sense questions.”
“For you and the Director.”
“Perhaps I can ease the burden on my Superior’s bruised brain.”
His hand felt the cool steel protruding from the pistol’s power pack, “I felt bad for a bit.”
“No worries, he and I were selected from Trueborn Warrior Sibkos. We are hardly defenseless.”
Colonel Steiner watched the other Scientists in this chamber seeing they were fit and vigilant though unseasoned, “Noted. Why does the Cato have such an extensive biologics facility?”
“In other times it would be a bio-survey vessel. However, we all serve REVIVAL, thus Cato carries satellite maintenance equipment and messages as requested. Pathogens too, particularly zoonotic ones.”
“You will have to treat me as if I know nothing but violence Doctor. Zoonotic?”
“Animal carried. The Exodus Fleet could not take livestock with them. They would draw unsustainable life support. Our homeworlds contain no domesticable animals. We use machines instead.
Our Iron Wombs generate Warrior Crechies, not calories or work. The Clans sustain themselves on aquaponics.”
Jacqueline listened in while studying a cell culture marked by an arcane series of symbols, “That explains the pescatarian diet.”
“Our people lost resistance to many diseases. COMSTAR isorla, due to their diversity in genetics and demographics, have been helpful in treating this deficiency. Still we gather specimens for our own protection.”
“Thus, the Ministry of Biosecurity?”
“Director Reginald has a warrant from ilKhan Showers. He is perhaps our brightest epidemiologist and one of our best virologists.”
Andrew took it all in and watched the others within the medical bay peering their way, “They will want him back then.”
“Aff, my people’s survival would be aided by his return.”
“Perhaps, but my people’s survival requires we oppose you.”
“You will lose. We are a force of nature. You have only met the Vanguard.”
“We will still fight.”
“Then perhaps honor has not completely departed the Lyran Commonwealth, unlike its leaders.”
Aras looked aside toward one of his experiments which had gone ‘out of tune’ with its status beeping.
“You have given me much to think about Aras.” Andrew looked toward Jacqueline, ‘be careful,’ she nodded as he turned.
Endless corridors connected the ‘crew cube’ consisting of generous passenger quarters, machine spaces, and storage chambers. The fortified Shuttle Bay door was locked down from the bridge, additional cameras were set up near the Warrior’s confinement, late Commander Renmar’s quarters were equally under observation as it contained the highest level prisoner. Andrew stopped at the door holding a bottle of Weingarten Silvaner with two fluid bulbs and looking at the camera. Someone on the bridge opened the Captain’s Quarters.
Director Reginald waited for him at the desk, his bruised forehead still prominent. “Good morning Colonel Steiner.”
Andrew strapped himself in across from the Director. “Director, It is sixteen hundred, according to the ship’s clock.”
“Well, I just woke up with a headache. I see you have brought me a gift. One related to my interests in viniculture, microbes, and fermentation.”
“Call it a peace offering.”
“I shall reciprocate.” He placed a power pack on the computer built into the desk surface.
“What is that?”
“The power cell to the laser pistol I discovered within these quarters.”
Andrew reached for his pistol then relaxed to clip the cell to his belt. Reginald placed the concealed laser pistol between them. “We searched this room before locking you in it.”
“Apparently not good enough.
I trust the wine is, on the contrary, exquisite. Somerset’s Merchant Factor raves about it.”
“It is one of my mother’s favorites,” Andrew attached the bulbs to the bottle’s spout filling them with the liquid, “and now I think I need a drink.”
Reginald studied the slightly bubbly clear liquid and presented it, “To good health then.”
-
So Clanners are similarly vulnerable as Martians in the War of the Worlds, only that they are aware of their Achilles Heel. And it makes sense Kerensky would not be able to sustain animal population for his Space Moses LARP.
-
But I gotta ask: where do the fish come from? Were they native to Strana Mechty or the Kerensky Cluster?
-
But I gotta ask: where do the fish come from? Were they native to Strana Mechty or the Kerensky Cluster?
In this case Somerset although I am certain they developed or exploited some native species that fit into their paradigm. Although if it was just limited to seeding oceans with fish that might take a while but it might be shorter than doing the same on land.
---
Two days had passed while the Lyrans acclimated themselves to their curious prisoners and new circumstances. Andrew Steiner stood beside Bosun Edgar Jaeger in a basic spacesuit while the Bosun pitched the Sabutai overboard and into the deep black using the enhanced musculature of his engineer’s suit. Airlocks sealed behind them, and atmosphere returned to the reduced pressure, enriched oxygen blend standardized since the days of the Terran Hegemony.
They removed their helmets as soon as the sensors read green, “It’s a pity we had to pitch them.”
“I had to be certain that the Pilots use them against us. The Astrolux at least has additional life support and access control for our team, but those fighters were nothing but a threat.”
“I understand, still a pity,” Edgar’s hand undulated and shot forth with impressive speed accentuated by his suit’s myomer underweave, “They were sexy craft. All smooth curves with the spirit to match, I bet they were a beauty to fly.”
Andrew loomed over the smaller spaceman in both physique and countenance, “They probably were, but even you are too big to fit into that cockpit. Only Allie can fit but she can’t fly. If we get exposed a pair of fighters won’t save us.”
“I’d be willing to lube up and give it a try. Wonder what they do with the larger pilot candidates.”
“I’ll ask the Director this evening.”
“Has he given you anything interesting?”
“Distraction, something we’d all like to have but can’t give ourselves enough of at the moment.”
Andrew departed the bay, deposited his suit into the locker, and stopped by the galley to grab two plates before translating with the sealed dishes. Allie crouched by the Director’s door grasping one of the many ties along its circumference but within sight of the only approved airtight door leading to this hall, “You don’t have to watch him Allie, get some shut eye. He can’t get far; all movement must pass through compartment bulkheads we control.”
“I don’t trust him or any of them. I’ve seen what they are capable of.” She patted the late Commander Renmar’s pistol on her belt, “I’m sure this isn’t the only hidden weapon on this ship, and there are still three Warriors onboard.”
“I understand, I’ll take over the Director’s watch for now.”
“Be careful Colonel, something is off with that guy.”
“I know, that is why I keep talking to him.”
Allie looked him over and saw he was carrying something other than dishes in the pouches attached to his vest, “Are you armed?”
“No, I’d just be bringing weapons to a fight better fought with words. He’s an old man. I can handle him.”
She hesitated before launching herself toward the galley and New Year’s Dinner.
Andrew keyed his authorization code into the taped-on number pad, and received a response from the bridge which gave him the green light to open the sterile white plastic portal. Director Reginald waited for him with his silverware already attached to the magnetic pad on the table. “According to my estimates today is Terran New Years.”
“Aff, Director.”
“Good I had feared I might have missed a cycle while I was reading. What do we have for dinner this evening Colonel?”
“The usual,” the plastic shell opened to reveal an entrée of seafood and vegetables wrapped in delicate papery film alongside a cup of sticky rice balls. “Your galley mates do not seem excitable enough to throw a proper New Year’s party.”
Reginald took a bit of one of the rolls, “We only celebrate Founding Day, during that week there are many festivities and Artisan performances for the masses.”
“I thought that the Clans lacked art.”
The Director chuckled, “You have clearly never met a Ghost Bear Skald then,” Reginald reached back and put a small book with a gilded cover in front of them, “or read our Remembrance.”
“You are giving me homework Director?”
“You have the time, Colonel. You might know something about spacecraft, but you are a MechWarrior through and through. Perhaps it is better you stay out of the way of your more knowledgeable subordinates. If you want to understand us, it is all right there in black and white. You can read that faster than interviewing me.”
“Perhaps but I do have a few questions, while we are together. What is up with the dull eyed doll faces?”
“The Aerospace Warriors?”
“Yes, why do they have cybernetic eyes?”
“Colonel if you would just ask your questions more pointedly, I could provide answers without questioning you in turn to clarify.
Eyeballs are fluid objects,” the Director lifted a rice ball onto his spoon, “they do not do well in microgravity. Thus, many of the Aerospace Phenotype who populate our orbital installations remove them and replace them with alternatives.” He gracefully guided the rice ball to his mouth and swallowed, “The fact that they are granted additional sensitivity in the Infrared is merely a useful side effect and one that takes some practice to utilize although females are faster to pick up on it.”
“What happens to the tall ones?”
“They become Espatiers. Our Espatier Corps is almost entirely Male while the Flying Corps is seventy percent female. Why build a larger fighter if a smaller Pilot can do that same job better since they need less thrust or life support?”
“Why were there no Espatiers on board this vessel?”
“We have many vessels plying the stars. They were needed elsewhere or so I figured. Otherwise, your ambush might have been unsuccessful. Their armor may not be as impenetrable as an Elementals but it is more mobile in microgravity such that even an Elemental struggles against a trained Espatier in their native environment.”
“I have a few more questions before I depart.”
Reginald leaned back in his chair and folded his hands into one another, “I have all the time in the world at the moment Colonel, consider me a captive audience.”
Andrew pulled a signet ring with a black opalescence octopus on it from his pouch. “I found this in your quarters on the Astrolux. There is no Octopus Clan. So, what does this symbolize?”
The Director leaned forward once more and played with the shimmering shape, “How much time do you have?”
“The rest of the year, if necessary, Director. Explain.”
-
Hail Hydra!
-
This timeline version of Society?
-
Reginald (Peltier) paused and put the ring over his pinkie finger, “Thank you for returning this to me. Command Renmar and I belong to a Scientist Collaboration Society known as the Opal Octopus founded in response to the Scorpion Contagion almost seventy standard years ago.”
“Opal Octopus. Seriously?”
He turned the ring diffracting colors shimmered against the dark background, “Octopoda are very colorful, malleable, and fragile as are Opals. We are Scientists not poets.”
“The Scorpion Contagion.”
“Yes, at that time there were nine Clans remaining of the original Twenty. The Goliath Scorpions were peerless explorers, but as you are aware there are many dangers out there in space. One of their Seekers had uncovered a virulent contagion that threatened our entire civilization much as the earliest days when we settled our first homeworlds.
In response the infected world was razed from orbit on the orders of the ilKhan, their own former Khan who happened to be on our capital world at the time. We do not always have an ilKhan but we have since then.
As he was responsible for the death of tens of millions, although he saved billions, he resigned his post and disappeared into the desert.
A tragedy that changed our civilization by breaking down the silo walls between the Clans and encouraging greater cooperation amongst the survivors. After that there were only eight Clans thus my forebears chose an Octopus as their emblem. Our mission is very simple, encourage the free exchange of scientific information between Clans rather than keeping it centralized.
Without ilKhan Moreau’s resolve REVIVAL wouldn’t have been possible and we would likely be backbiting one another like animals still.”
Andrew paused for a moment, “That was not what I was expecting to hear.”
“What did you think? That because it was black and a bottom dweller that it was something nefarious.
I dropped this when you attacked me. It was not concealed; I proudly and openly wear it.
Perhaps you need to temper your expectations, Colonel.”
“Maybe I shall.” Andrew picked the Remembrance from the table and stuffed it into the bag floating beside him. “I look forward to our continued conversations Director.”
“As do I but I do wish to return to the onboard laboratory. My daughter certainly misses me.”
“Your daughter?”
“Yes, I have sixteen freeborn children from four women. It is the maximum for a single individual for both sexes. Six are Doctors like me, four are Watch Operatives, many of whom are drawn from the progeny of Scientists. The rest are MedTechs despite their mothers being from the Laborer Caste.”
“Which Watch? What Clan are you affiliated with Director? You have nothing on your codex.”
“Just The Watch. Collaboration operates on many levels now as I have explained. Who they accept orders from does not matter as much as their vision for The Clans’ future. It causes no end of friction between them and the Warriors of the Touman.
As for me I gave up my Clan affiliation when I accepted my role from the ilKhan.”
“You can do that?”
“I cannot but the ilKhan can and expects it for all high-level Ministers, to ensure impartiality. I could have been my former Clan’s Scientist-General or Keeper of the Kin, but I chose service to the ilKhan.”
“You have many mysteries Reginald and I have much time until we reach our destination. Starting tomorrow I will grant your request but only because the lab is already watched, and I am uncomfortable traveling with unsupervised germs.”
“I assure you our biological containment procedures are very good. I would not be onboard otherwise.”
The following day Reginald arrived within the biolab; his staff allowed a moment of relief before returning to their duties. He plucked a tiny blue flower from the herb garden and breathed deep, “That is much better.”
One of the younger MedTechs approached him, she brushed aside blonde hair and examined his forehead, where Andrew had pistol-whipped him. “Seems you have healed completely father.”
“Aff Niamh. How is our cargo?”
“Multiplying.”
Reginald nodded, “Excellent. Have you changed the labels?”
“I have, but do you expect they will examine them at our enemy’s destination?”
He walked toward the bioreactor capsule with his latest ‘acquisition’ all its status lights blipped green, and the cell count from the internal instruments grew.
“Perhaps but that will be their own folly and our opportunity. Until then we just need to keep their MedTech occupied. The others are simpletons.”
01/04/3052 ‘Apollo M7, 2287’
The Cato translated through KF-Space and emerged above an uninhabited and dim M7 Red Dwarf.
Navigator Jeremi looked toward Andrew and Florentin on the bridge, “Right on Target Skipper.”
The Nav Beacon for a decrepit space station dating back to the days of the Rim World’s Republic activated after the emergence wave washed over it. Its blips warned away curious travelers and provided out of date astrogation information thanks to stellar migration. The proximity to Apollo meant that the sensitive communication array of the Explorer could pick up broadcasts from the planet from around seven months ago.
Andrew watched Florentin adjust the relative angle as the solar sails unfurled. “Everything here is just echoes.”
Jeremi noted that that the Solar Sail had successfully unfurled and pointed itself toward the dim primary where it would absorb as much of its light as possible to recharge their drive, using the engines was too risky. “Aye Sir, there’s an old RWR station nearby but its beacon is warning us away.”
Florentin locked in the angle and returned the flight controls to the computer. “Gotta love that lostech. Still going strong after centuries out here in the void.”
Within their darkened storage room, Candida, Nimue, and Makada looked toward one another.
“We are no longer in Somerset system sisters.”
“Good, perhaps the Enemy have taken us somewhere quiet.”
They all turned to the door and nodded in eerie unison, “That shall be their third and final mistake.”
-
01/08/3052
Red lights blinked within Cato’s bridge as the crew and sheltered throughout the ship in their suits. ‘Beneath’ them Apollo M7, 2287 flared out incredible volumes of particle and ionizing radiation from its magnetosphere. Although sheltered behind the solar sail and layers of protection the jumpship was subject to stellar weather and in the target zone. Four hours passed; Colonel Andrew Steiner dropped his fist on a camera monitor as it blurred, before turning dark. “Is it supposed to do that Jeremi?”
Jeremi looked up from the Navigation Screen, “It happens during bad storms, Colonel.” Then to the Clan Helmsman, “I thought your systems were isolated Maas.”
Maas peered toward the screen and back to his console where he kept the sail between them and the brunt of a flare star’s wrath. “They are. Our internal network is beneath the Hargel.”
The screen remained as dark as Jeremi and Andrew’s expressions. Colonel Steiner reached for the INTERCOM, “Oskar get to the brig!”
Static
“Shite.”
Andrew donned his suit’s polarized helmet and readied his weapons. He cycled through camera feeds; blank screens answered him in turn. The INTERCOM was down, door sensors showed intermittent errors. Jeremi and Andrew pointed their weapons at their Clan Helmsman, “Who could have messed with the internal network?”
Accustomed to weapons and erratic Warriors Maas made no move one way or the other, “The Director, The late Commander, Chief Engineer Kanti, maybe Doctor Aras.” Maas tried his access codes and codex, “System is locked down solid, even to me, and I am one of the Senior Crew.”
“That means it could only be one person.” Andrew drifted toward the bridge’s armored door, one of two thick metal portals leading to the compartment. “Lock this door, I’ll send others to you if I find them.”
Jeremi donned his helmet and readied his pistol nodding to the Helmsman who maintained their current heading weathering the solar storm outside.
Andrew cycled the portal, carefully peeking out and into white tubes with the standard Spacer markings identifying ‘holds,’ straps, emergency and engineering equipment leading throughout Cato’s pressurized volume. His suit’s radiation sensors spiked as he left the bridge to enter ‘The Tubes.’ They were empty as expected since the crew was sheltering in the middle decks within the protective envelope of the water storage and life support modules.
Engineering had a direct feed to security and Edgar and Allie watching over it from behind similar portals as the bridge. The others were in the relative safety of the shuttle bay within their own craft, but someone had cut comms and cameras to that module. Andrew took a moment to punch a wall, “I bet the Director has a backup security input within the Commander’s quarters. This would be the perfect time to escape. Verdamnt!”
The mission took priority over his curiosity. He likely had at least three potentially armed and very upset cyborg AeroWarriors hunting him, and they knew where he had to go. Andrew pushed off and paused to check his six before jumping through the T-intersections bracing the flimsy jumpship against the rigors of interstellar travel while protecting the crew from a ‘long fall.’
He paused at the portal leading toward the Commander’s Quarters, his rifle at the ready, the opaque white panels opened to an empty corridor frame by the bulkhead. As he passed through Nimue uncoiled herself and launched a pick toward his head. Andrew parried it with his Mauser but she hooked the head around it putting herself between him and the weapon. Her momentum caused both to crash into the wall. His ECLSS pack dug into his lower back causing him to wince from the impact of his suit.
She turned, blood red cybernetic eyes staring at him framed by black hair, then balled her legs up to kick off him, taking the tomahawk like pick and his Mauser with her. His next wince was from being kicked in the ribs and into the wall again. Her strength seemed greater than before despite days in captivity.
He drew his pistol firing a pulse of blazing light through her back. It found its mark but so did her tomahawk which crashed into his left arm and through layers of ballistic fiber. Globules of blood leaked from the injury dotting the white tube with crimson.
Nimue seemed unphased despite the burn to her silver jumpsuit and pale flesh beneath it. She kicked off the wall launching herself toward the Mauser which had bounced off the wall and was ricocheting between the tubes. Andrew scrambled away from his position, tracking her with his pistol. Each missed shot scorched the tube’s interior as she evaded, graceful in microgravity while he struggled.
With the Mauser secured she bounced toward the T-intersection ‘above’ him, “Its over Colonel. If you cannot get that injury treated you will bleed out, and if you keep fighting, I will kill you. The others have already secured Engineering. Your operation has failed.”
Andrew took cover against the bulkhead, scant defense against the heavy pulse laser rifle but he still had his suit as well. “There are still the others!”
“You have only brought three Warriors and the rest are little better than Techs. Oskar is the only threat beside yourself. We have marked him for killing our sister.”
His pistol wasn’t enough there was a chance that he could make it back to the shuttle bay and raise the others, but it would require abandoning the bridge and Jeremi. Reginald’s voice cut in and opened a video tab in his helmet visor from Allie’s POV Camera positioned in such a way to show the Director holding the pulse laser pistol to the helmetless and injured forms of Allie and Edgar. Kanti and his crew stood behind him tapping away at the Engineering consoles.
Director Reginald’s gray and black hair poked through the soft cap common to all spacers which accentuated his wizened drawn features. “Colonel, I would like to extend you the same courtesy you have given me. Surrender yourself and your unit into custody effectively immediately and I will call off my Warriors and Crew. The Cato belongs with the Clans, and I am late for an appointment, but not by enough that it cannot be explained without bringing up your rebellion.
There is no more need for bloodshed, but if you press us.” He leveled the pistol toward his hostages, “then that is what you shall have.
Our MedTechs are standing by to treat your injuries and I will put in a good word for you with the JAG. There will certainly be opportunities in the future for such a bold MechWarrior and Commander as yourself.”
“For the next Conquest?”
“You are still young enough that you could rise to command several Clusters if not a whole Galaxy should things change. However, your death will accomplish nothing but bring me sorrow.”
“Well, I would hate to disappoint you Doc,” Andrew looked back to see Oskar and Florentine approach the intersection from the opposite side. They tossed him one of the Pulse Laser Rifles, he checked the charge strip, all green, they exchanged thumbs up, reflected in each man’s mirrored visor. “But I am going to have to refuse.”
“That is regrettable Colonel Steiner.” Reginald’s head bowed slightly, “I would have appreciated more time together.”
The Lyrans launched themselves into the corridor exchanging bursts of Avenger Shotgun bursts and Pulse Laser fire with the AeroWarriors to the end.
01/12/3052 | Drovahchein, Erit Cluster, Dark Nebula
SLS Cato translated into the nebulous darkness of space, plumes of primordial gases obscured starlight causing Jump Computer error. SLS Yangtze and Volga floated nearby attended by dozens of dropships bearing the crests of the Hanseatic League and House Mailai natives. Modular space stations extended starfish like arms to capture the solar radiation growing the aquaculture products the Clans relied upon. Three Carrack Armored Transports waited nearby to ferry provisions and finished goods to the front, a fourth was undergoing maintenance from a Tramp Jumpship transformed into a mobile cage works.
Aerospace fighters and gunships raced toward the Cato. Nova Fox Espatiers boarded the ship, their tall, lean frames predatory with claws in the shape of a Mauser IIC. They removed their helmets upon ensuring the ship and its crew were safe and mostly accounted for. “Makada, where is the remainder of your crew, SaberCat’s Aerofighters, and who are these individuals not on the manifest?”
Makada looked toward the Director with pale blue cybernetic eyes, he responded. “There was an accident Point Leader. That is why I am late.”
The Point Leader looked at his pilot sister, cybernetic eyes locking for a moment at this breach of protocol. “Director Reginald speaks the truth Orion. We had to abandon the Aerofighters due to a fuel leak which caused the casualties. The unmanifested individuals are the crew of the Ares cargo shuttle in the bay. They had mechanical problems and required rescue.”
“Yet you brought them here, to our covert rally point. How do you know they are not spies?”
“You can question them but what better place to take them then one few know about, Quiaff?”
Orion looked at the assembled crew including the five newcomers identified as Technician Caste. His fingers brushing against his goatee. “Aff, I suppose that does make some bit of sense. Very well, we will process them aboard our Pentagon.” He waved something to his Point who immediately guided the newcomers to the boarding shuttle.
Director Reginald (Peltier) folded his hands behind his back aboard the gravdeck of the Carrack SLS Ingrid Regnar, an observation screen showed the nightside view of the planet below. He chuckled as he realized the few circles that lit up did so as an advertisement for House Mailai. Niamh came up from behind him tapping the band of a luminous opal octopus on the metal table between them. “I really wish we could have seen the Potemkins depart father.”
“Do not be disappointed child.
There will be other opportunities.”
End of Part I
On Hiatus until December
-
So I presume the other two pilots were killed in the fight.
-
So I presume the other two pilots were killed in the fight.
Correct
Hidden Hope Part II
Prelude
01/08/3052
The INN logo appears before the screen as an attractive man and woman appear behind the news desk adorned with a COMSTAR logo backlit behind them.
“Welcome to INN News. I am Dereck Haut.
“and Claire Donahue. We have a new report from the occupied world of Antares courtesy of the Two-Twenty-Second Division that is still resisting Adder occupation forces despite being cut off for months now.”
“Yes, Claire however we must warn everyone that the following footage is distressing.
You have been warned.”
Antares City lie in ruins, burned out remains of civilian vehicles and military equipment litter the street, along with shards of broken glass and feral animals. A sign shows ‘Free Fire Zone’ in five languages behind layers of concertina wire Battlemechs patrol through an area blasted flat to the foundations. In the distance three large dropships tower over the empty horizon.
Citizens run through the streets as Adder Mechs crash through the village of Trifecta explosions bursting around them. A canal is filled with debris so much that it blocks the lock and causes flooding around it. Burned and splintered trees show the aftermath of a major battle on a formerly serene landscape.
A shantytown rises from the grasslands surrounding a darkened city clambering up the canyon like a desperate mountaineer. Smoke rises from makeshift chimneys as people struggle to assemble shelter while engulfed in a blizzard. Rioters charge into a line of dark blue clad Adder Patrol, the line holds, as they are thrown back by giants or dispersed with tear gas and pyrotechnics.
Star Adder mechs fire into an industrial facility causing chemical explosions and geysers of water to erupt onto a concrete pad. Desperate people rush for safety clogging the streets for emergency vehicles. Soldiers wearing gas masks stand guard over a night sky filled with flames.
A blonde woman and two larger men engage in a brutal fight with Alba’s City Hall in the background. The fight ends with the larger of the men kicking the woman off the other before she tries to fight him too.
“That was distressing Dereck. That poor woman.”
“Indeed Clair, truly these Clan Invaders are completely immoral. This is combined by numerous testimonies from victims of Clan Mongoose which is currently conducting terrifying raids on numerous Lyran worlds.”
“To think that those Adder’s bloodlust could not be sated even after tens of thousands dead from chlorine and other toxic gases when the Star Adders destroyed the Nashan Diversified Pulp Factory.”
“The largest mass casualty event since the Hiritsu massacres on No Return.”
“COMSTAR is doing its part to stop them.
Are you?”
“Please donate or volunteer for one of the local organizations that will play after this special report.
Any help will be appreciated. This fight belongs to all of us.”
“May the Peace of Blake prevail.
INN signing off.”
-
Chapter 16 - Old Grudges
01/12/3052
MechWarrior Ranna Kerensky looked out the window overlooking the large town of Old Connaught, the capital of Arc-Royal and home of the Kell Hounds. In the foreground she saw the quaint cottages of Tersus Village, a quiet vacation and elder community tucked away into the hills away from what passed for hustle and bustle of ‘the big city’ of this agrarian world. A Kell Hounds dropship had landed hours ago at the starport on the other side of the reservoir from the town. Through her rangefinders she could see the tiny forms of battlemechs marching along the reinforced path to the nearby Kell Hounds refit facility.
She leaned back in the chair with arms stretched skyward, “This place is so boring Mack.”
“That is the point cousin.” MacKenzie and Maeve Wolf sat beside one another, looking entirely to alike almost twins despite being years apart. A bottle of Cuchalain whisky, two partially full, and one empty glass between them on a handwrought wooden table. “Shauna will not sleep with all that commotion going on down there at all hours of the day. If my son and daughter don’t get their nap my wife will make my life hell.
Not a fun hell either, full of hedonism or all that, even though she’s Canopian.
The bad kind! and I already have enough wailing and gnashing in my life as it is.”
“Shauna is such a difficult baby, but you were too Ranna. I would try to sing you lullabies, rock you, none of it ever worked.”
“Why do you have to make it weird all the time Maeve?”
Maeve took a sip of her glass, “I tried very hard to be a good mother to you, but I was young. Kat needs all the help she can get. Especially with Alpin, he is growing up to be quite the rascal.”
Mack poured a small volume into the empty cup, “A chip off the old block as they say.”
“Still the babysitter even though you are Co-Commanders of the Wolf’s Dragoons.”
“Why not? All we are doing is waiting for the others to arrive, Jaime, Morgan, and Hanse are formulating the plan, we will just execute it.”
Ranna lifted the stool up and settled behind the now partially filled glass, “When is Phelen going to be free?”
“Oh, do you miss your boyfriend sweetie?”
Both women stared at one another, “Just because you birthed me doesn’t mean to speak to me like I am a crechie anymore.”
“It’s precisely because I did, that I can Ran. You were so cute as a crechie, blonde pigtails with ribbons, pretty dresses, the reddest little cheeks, it made me wish you were my actual daughter.
You can be patient; I’m sure he will visit when he’s free. Unless of course you want to go down there I am certain your Uncle could find plenty of work for you to do. You know if you were available and not helping us babysit up here.”
Ranna paused and took a deep draught of the whiskey in her cup, “You know what…I have not seen Phelen in almost two years; and I just love…little stinky loud children, they just make me feel so happy!”
A women shouted down at them from the upper floor in Portuguese, Mack responded and drained his cup, “I knew you would come around.”
With a great cry a young boy with tousled brown hair leapt down the stairs into the common room. He paused to stare at and warm his hands near the burning wood in the fireplace. Then he grabbed the coat and hat drying nearby before running to the trio. “Papa, can Aunt Ran and I run around the mountain;” He made a shooting motion and 'bang' sound with his finger, "and maybe shoot some guns?
Mackenzie Wolf knelt at the boy’s side and stared at Ranna with a sly smile, “As long as she’s okay with it Alpin. You have to wear your boots and listen to her though. Quiaff?”
-
WD are such an adorable family here, makes me wish all the best for them. You monster.
Coomstar using Katya's trial of position as example of Clanner atrocities is so... in line with current day media propaganda, I guess that more the things change, more they stay the same.
-
“How does he have so much energy?” Ranna collapsed into the chair beside Maeve, the bottoms of her jeans were coated in mud and grime from scrambling across the mountain with Alpin. Maeve poured her another small glass of Cuchulain whiskey as the fireplace dwindled and a candle burned in the center of the table. “He’s just one kid, I had to keep up with three in a row.”
“You had help.”
“That is what it means to be a Clan.”
Ranna stared into the candlelight reflecting in her liquor, “Are we a Clan?”
“Good question. ilKhan Showers likely does not think so. Although he has probably called for our Annihilation after finding all that Clantech when they got Phelen.
The Lyrans though are quick to blame, just read the tabloid rags. Although they seem more focused on COMSTAR for now.”
“We are here to help though. Could they turn on us?”
Maeve sipped her own drink quickly for almost minutes, “Unknown, hard to believe they could pose a threat to us and our allies if they are so swift to flee in the face of our erstwhile cousins. Even if they do, the Wolf’s Dragoons have been through tougher times, and we have the support of the First Prince.”
Ranna looked out to the misty night, brightening slightly as a Kell Hounds truck rumbled toward, but then deflated as it passed them. “I am not sure I am ready.”
“Do you think Phelen thought he was ready when the Ghost Bears showed up out of nowhere?”
“But it wasn’t his family that stood in the firing line.”
“Any of them would have though, and they do so now. I think we have done everything we could to prepare, except” Maeve stood and hesitated before turning to the stairs, “You should try to get as many good nights sleep as you can until we leave. Goodnight Ran.”
01/13/3052
Morning mist dissipated with the rising sun as a Kell Hounds’ truck navigated the switchback up the mountain beside a motorcycle. Ranna and Alpin stood outside the cottage as both vehicles turned the corner. Phelen Kell exited the truck and was joined by the motorcyclist, a woman with brown hair wearing the strangest outfit but walked like Colonel Akira or Yorinaga-sama. A green Keikogi-like outfit, gold dyed Hakama over them, a black belt with a Katana tucked into it and holstered pistol on the other side, and an ominous overcoat.
The strange woman stepped forward with Phelen at her ear motioning frantically, “Are you Ranna Kerensky of Wolf’s Dragoons?”
Alpin hid behind her as Mack, Maeve appeared in the door carbines in hand while Katerina motioned to her son. Ranna pushed him toward her and stepped forward, hands over her own sidearm. Phelen stood off the line but between them, “Who’s asking?”
“I am Diana Pryde of Clan Jade Falcon.”
Rann looked toward Phelen, “I heard all the Jade Falcons had been Absorbed, or killed.”
“It will be reborn after our Trial of Grievance. A duel in Battlemechs, Warrior against Warrior in adherence with Zellbrigen.”
“What have I done to warrant your Grievance Diana? We have never quarreled before.”
“You are the daughter of Star Colonel Natasha Kerensky, formerly of Clan Wolf, and carry her bloodlegacy.” Diana’s hands hovered over the sword, “as such you are the closest to a Trueborn Clan Warrior as any in the Inner Sphere including myself.”
“Have you come to finish us off then Diana?”
“No, I am chalcas as well. I have betrayed the Steel Vipers with full conscience to benefit Phelen and the Kell Hounds. However, we Warriors must issue Batchalls against other Clan Warriors to be Clan.
Only with our Trial’s conclusion can I prove my bloodrite, reclaim my status as a Clan Warrior, and the Jade Falcons rebirth as a Clan.”
“If I refuse your Batchall?”
Diana had a full hand on her hilt and pulled it out enough to reveal the Jade Falcon insignia engraved on it, “I will strike you down then turn this blade on myself.”
Mack and Maeve had their rifles up at the motion, although Ranna didn’t waver. “That is a bit extreme.”
“It is necessary.”
Ranna looked at Phelen, “You find interesting people on your travels Lieutenant.”
“I’ve spent months trying to dissuade her Ran.”
“I accept your Batchall Diana Pryde.”
Her opponent stood, sheathed her blade, and kept her hands clearly visible, “State the time and place of our Circle of Equals.”
“Noon, tomorrow, Marrou’s Fens.”
“Bargained well and done.”
“Bargained well and done.”
“I will leave to prepare for our Trial tomorrow Ranna Kerensky,” Diana turned to Phelen, “if she fails to arrive, I may have to actually kill you this time, so keep your rede.”
“You don’t have to do this Diana.”
“You are wrong mercenary, and it is already done.” The Jade Falcon remounted her motorcycle and departed, Ranna waited until she was out of sight before collapsing to her knees. Phelen rushed to her side and embraced her before she completely lost her strength, “She’s so scary.”
“Why did you accept her batchall?”
“To see whether or not I am ready to face more than one of them.”
-
The Ducal Estate of House Kell sprawled across the eastern edge of Lachan lake that provided natural beauty and fresh water to the inhabitants of Old Connaught. As agricultural Lords their buildings lacked the grandeur of the industrialists of the Lyran Commonwealth. Only the presence of the Kell Hounds provided anything close to industry on-world.
Diana Pryde sat on a mat over the rocky lakeside as the occasional shuttle flight soared over the Morein Hills to the Southwest. The basin of which held Marrou’s Fens where the Cuchulain distillery sourced the peat that created its distinctive smoky flavor. A twig snapped behind her, she drew, cocked, and pointed her pistol at the hedge. “Identify yourself!”
An old scarred and grizzled man with a shaved head and white beard stepped out from behind the hedge, he too carried a Katana and was dressed in red and black but not with a Kell Hounds crest, he bore none. In his hands he held a wicker basket. “Who would have thought you would be drawn here too?”
“Who are you old man?”
He stood tall and proud, “Yorinaga Kurita, perhaps you have heard of me.”
Diana decocked her pistol’s hammer and returned it to the holster, “Patrick mentioned you a few times during our voyage.
In between pithy innuendo.
Do you bring more?”
“I bring only tea and counsel. He and I are as unlike as we are intertwined.”
“Perhaps I only have appetite for one.”
Yorinaga approached warily, “My tea is very good, though I am no Pillarine.”
“Is your counsel better?”
“More applicable perhaps. I was a creature of the battlefield and wished to learn more about you. The young lady of the hour, that carries a sword and recites poetry.”
“It needs to be done.”
“I understand.”
“Do you truly?”
“In matters of honor I am the expert.” He laid his sword down and sat down beside her, “The Mercenaries do not understand as deeply as I. They chose their path for a different type of glory than we have.”
His black lacquered teacups had been repaired so many times that each was thick with golden Kintsugi seams, “In matters of betrayal and survival I am equally wise. I sense that you have trod a difficult path child and may have questions or regrets. Perhaps over time you will be willing to ask or confide them in me.”
“What do you have to gain from this?”
“An opportunity I was formerly denied.”
With extreme precision and speed he rinsed the vessels in the lake and returned them to his basket. She rose to face him as he moved to depart, “I will leave you to your meditations Diana with only one piece of wisdom to contemplate.
As an old Warrior I study history, young Warriors have the duty to make it. Do not look at what is behind for guidance when everything important lies in front of you.
The past is a trap for the unwary.”
-
She could really learn a lot from Yorinaga, but how many of us were willing to learn when young and angry?
-
She could really learn a lot from Yorinaga, but how many of us were willing to learn when young and angry?
She's actually not angry, just serious.
01/14/3052
Marrou’s Fen lay exposed before the audience as Ranna and Diana prepared for the appointed time. Clear blue sky reflected in the glass smooth knee-high standing water and stubby grasses. No birds flew over the Morein basin today, instead almost a dozen Battlemechs took a knee on the firm ground above Phelen Kell’s Wolfhound and the Dragoons the left, the others their right. None of the spheroid mercenaries thought about it, but the brothers Kell whose mechs were beside Jaime, Maeve, and Mackenzie Wolf looked out of place.
Ranna’s heart raced as her Warhammer strode into the fens. it was not the best place for footing especially in such a large mech. However, there was a clear pond in the center deep enough to submerge her mech’s legs within to improve her heat capacity.
Opposing her was the raptor like Shinobi, all deadly angles and packed with the most advanced non-Dragoon, non-Clantech equipment possible for its size. She had heard about the design but as far as she knew it was still experimental. Fewer than 100 had been built and those had gone to elite commands within the DCMS and CCAF. It was perhaps the most expensive mech in the Inner Sphere that hadn’t belonged to someone important.
There is no way an Exiled Clan Warrior should’ve been allowed to get one of them and it be allowed within the Lyran Commonwealth. “Who is she sleeping with to get a Shinobi?”
Her mission clocked flicked over to ’12:00’ and the Circle of Equals appeared in the AR, just another image conjured up and presented through her neurohelmet’s visor. Targeting sensors picked up the other mechs watching from above, her palms began sweating in the gloves despite the cooling fluid running through them, “They will just see how good I can be.”
“Target track, contact A-five-zero. Ignore all others.” Friendly contacts disappeared from the field with the Warhammer’s targeting suite focusing entirely on Diana’s mech. It leapt into the air, landing with impossible grace as her sensors detected a power-surge and thermal energy emanating from beneath the PPC over its shoulder although it quickly dissipated. “Capacitor PPC?”
The Warhammer trod forward into the terrain; a standing wave emanated from it brushing the bright green fen grasses beyond it. Her iPPCs were still out of range and this would be a slow progression. Ranna held firm balancing the Battlemech beneath her that was wobbling as if standing on a waterbed made of moss.
Something seemed off, Diana’s Shinobi had an unusually low sensor signal for its size. At this range it should be plainly visible on the targeting scopes and her weapons should have good tracking. Ranna initiated a diagnostic of the old Warhammer’s systems. “There has to be something wrong with my scopes, but we double checked them today.”
She was rocked as the Warhammer sustained a direct hit from the Shinobi which had reappeared on her scopes. It had not only returned but was now bright white in thermals as the cooling network dissipated the heat from the PPC throughout the machine and into the water below. Ranna fired from the hip sending hyper-accelerated sub-atomic particles downrange in a torus of light. One connected, ablating away the gray composite that protected the armature below. The Shinobi was damaged, but Ranna looked at the blood red damage indicator on her mech’s right torso that showed a total breach in a single hit. Something that should have been impossible for even a Dragoon made PPC.
“That bitch!”
Ranna went hot pressing the offensive as Diana jumped away, her tracking systems struggled to find the Battlemech in jump jet plumes that sent up superheated vapor that cooled and settled over the fens like fog. Each combatant parting clinging fog and thrashing water as stray shots scorched the grass and started smoldering fires that failed to spread int the waterlogged land.
Infrequent chips against the Shinobi occurred even though Ranna and her machine struggled to track the agile duelist who hovered barely within or just outside her effective range. Diana made herself a target only long enough to set up a powerful shot that rarely missed when it did fire though that event was infrequent. However, Ranna prepared for it timing her own firepower for maximum effect only to have Diana feign and prepare again preventing an easy tempo.
Their battle had been ongoing for almost an hour as Ranna set herself up in the central pond. Her Warhammer’s PPC concealed within the smoke and fog that swirled around her. Even with sensors degraded she knew that Diana was nearby, waiting to strike down at her. She intended to catch her on the wing just as she had been shooting trap with Alpin two days ago.
“Ranna ‘Birddog’ Kerensky it might catch on.”
Her controls were unresponsive as she tried to step forward through the pond to get a better firing position. The mud below held fast her Warhammer and began to suck it down. Their duel had broken down the fens’ natural structure until it was a quagmire that her mech could not clear. She had thought it would be quick, it had been anything but, and now her Warhammer had feet of clay and was sinking.
Diana’s Shinobi appeared out of the haze, clear as day to her sensors, her capacitor was charged and now that she was trapped Ranna would be an easy target.
The radio was set to their internal channel, no need for her to announce her embarrassment to friends and family, “I yield!”
“Why?”
“My Warhammer is trapped and sinking into the mud. You have won.”
There was a pause while Diana’s PPC powered down and dissipated its accumulated energy, “Do you require rescue?”
“Are you offering?”
“I am the closest.”
Ranna turned off the mic and breathed deep, “She just wants to gloat in person,” then returned it to broadcast, “Aff.”
She opened the cockpit and choked on the swirling smoke from the many small fires that smoldered in the fen. “Tastes just like Cuchulain,” beneath her the mud was pulling her Warhammer down. It would be difficult to recover but good practice for the salvage crews. Although Uncle Jaime was probably going to order her to power-wash it as her surkai.
With the cockpit sealed Ranna kept her balance on the narrow boarding surface as the Shinobi stood beside it extending a palm up hand to bridge the gap. Her cockpit was up allowing Ranna to see Diana shift her head to the side to ensure that her Mech’s hand remained as steady as possible.
It took all the Dragoon’s courage to scramble across the mech’s hand knowing full well that her opponent could crush her if she wanted. Ranna hurried into the fold down jump seat and found a shallow clear plastic box filled with smaller bags containing small bones, intricate shells, shiny rocks, dried plants, fortunately dead insects, and glass beads, all of which were neatly labeled and indexed.
“What is this?” Diana let out a sigh as her own mech struggled to clear the quagmire. “One of my specimen collections. Just gently put it into a cargo pocket, then strap into your seatbelt.”
Diana grunted and ran her fingers across the function displays, “We’ll have to jump out of this fine mess you’ve trapped me in.”
“Language.”
“Do not start with me Wolf.” Diana let out a whisper not knowing she was still on the Trial channel, “You are already as bad as the mercenary.”
-
A thought occurred to me, what were Diana and her fellow Falcons eating during the trip? Since they lost connection to clan logistics, did they have sufficient sea food or did they have acclimatise themselves to more Spheroid diet?
I presume Shinobi has some stealth system, possibly Stealth Armor or rediscovered Null Sig, which combined with capacitor enhanced PPC would enact brutal heat burden one single heatsinks.
-
A thought occurred to me, what were Diana and her fellow Falcons eating during the trip? Since they lost connection to clan logistics, did they have sufficient sea food or did they have acclimatize themselves to more Spheroid diet?
Amusingly it was the other way around, the Kell Hounds were the ones eating Clan rations as their dropship was filled with INTER-LOGI spec material.
They were not fans.
The Falcons then discovered Scandinavian type canned or smoked fish products in the Free Rasalhague Republic. Then brought pallets of them.
The Kell Hounds were also not fans of this.
-
01/15/3052
The town of New Hannover was built around Arc-Royal Mechworks and directly attached to the Fred T Berry Starport via a railway. Trains and Techs operated at all hours transporting and upgrading everything imaginable that arrived from a constant stream of dropships. All manner of industrial equipment had been deployed to accommodate the overflow each protected by revetments from any hazard.
A massive tent city had popped up inhabited by mercs and techs with dozens of colorful or well-known insignia and uniforms from the Northwind Highlanders, Eridani Light Horse, Hell’s Black Aces, Blackwell, Defiance, and Shengli Industries, Independence Weaponry, even Luthien Armor Works personnel were present on world with LIC minders. If it had ever featured in the AMC’s Wolfpack magazine, they were present on Arc-Royal as guests of Duke Kell.
Ranna Kerensky walked into Mess Hall C into the sparse company of fellow Wolf’s Dragoons, Kell Hounds, and members of the Blue Star Irregulars. Her palms slammed into the metal table in front of Diana Pryde who looked up from her breakfast of kedgeree. “You cheated!”
She saw Ranna’s blonde hair was still dripping, clinging to her pale skin, like she had just been rescued from drowning, in perfume it seemed. “You smell.”
“That is because I spent all night power washing the sludge off my Warhammer, and all morning showering away the stench.”
“Did you save any warm water for me?”
Nearby Hound techs excused themselves and shifted away from the women as Diana stood up, eating knife still in hand blade out. “If you did not want to get stuck in the mud Ranna. You should not have fought in a fen.”
“I talked to Skytower’s techs. There is only one mech of that type, that incorporates tech from Clan to Combine, in the whole of the Inner Sphere!”
“You still had fifteen tons on me. I think it was rather generous considering Skytower’s weaknesses.
Clan Steel Viper trained me well, maybe your trainer was lacking.”
The Dragoon leaned forward, muscles tensed, “My trainer was Natasha Kerensky.”
Diana was red, still livid after being called a cheater, “Maybe you did not listen to your mother well enough then.”
Major Wanda Phillips of the 2nd Assault Infantry of the Blue Star Irregulars intervened pushing the two women apart with the muscled arms of an infantry commander. She kept her hand near Diana’s knife. “Knock it off ladies. We are supposed to be on the same side here. You are offending our hosts.”
Separated and embarrassed the Clanswomen calmed slightly, Diana left her knife on the table. “If you want a rematch Ranna Kerensky, then issue the Batchall.”
“I want a rematch Diana Pryde, with you using your Ostroc this time.”
“I accept your challenge.
However, the time and place of our duel will be after the Clans are defeated.
So, stay alive until then and get some air now,
because you reek,” Diana looked down at her halfway eaten plate, “and have ruined my appetite.”
Ranna’s fists went white then she turned the air blue, in Russia, as she stormed out of the Mess Hall. Diana tried to fan the perfume away but returned to her seat. Wanda remained at her side, “Are you happy with yourself MechWarrior?”
“Aff, I just got issued a challenge.” She placed her utensils on the plate and let out a sigh, “I just wish she had waited until I finished breakfast. Now everything tastes like flowers.”
-
She really has a talent for making friends
-
She really has a talent for making friends
You noticed, the only thing that was missing was a slight blush.
-----
Chapter 17 – Hold the Bottom Line, United by One Paycheck
01/18/3052
The Grand Hall of House Kell had worn many different styles in the family’s time on Arc-Royal, but it had never been an Interstellar War Room. WolfNet operatives, well-compensated private intelligence analysts, and a small contingent of LIC and LCAF Military Intelligence gathered beneath or behind displays showing streams of information and downlinks from COMSTAR’s HPG in Denton.
A roof-mounted holoprojector, normally reserved for spectacle within the ballroom, broadcast the present strategic situation through the cigarette smoke from a man wearing a tan leather flying jacket with a flaming Ace of Spades playing card patch over a generic blue formal-ish (for a Mercenary) looking uniform, tapped it into a Kell Hound branded ashtray, “Where’s your old man kid?”
Phelen Kell stood up straight in his red and black formal uniform, bronze colored lieutenant bars shining, “I do not know Colonel Tanaga.”
Ranna Kerensky sat with the commander of the Dragoon’s Epsilon Regiment, Diana Pryde sat beside Yorinaga Kurita, he in lotus, her seiza, both spoke softly to one another over tea, as observers. Kai and the Field Commanders of both Kell Hounds regiments, Colonels Akira Brahe and Daniel Allard sat alongside one another leaving a space open for him.
Brevet General Ariana Winston and Colonel Charles Antonescue was in a deep discussion over some packet with Seamus Casey and Ariana Stirling of the Northwind Highlanders. An empty space near the lead table was left for the 12th Star Guards who had likely been destroyed on Wotan when The Clans invaded rather than abandon their post and mission as so many others, including those who sat on the Estates General, had. Blue Star Irregulars Colonel Alexander Duff-Gordan who sat adjacent to it with his subordinates had insisted upon it.
First Gurka of the Northwind Highlanders had been given the honor of guarding the assembly. The heavy Kukri blades at their sides, tilted jungle hats, and genuine Mauser 960s (from Diana) reminding their charges of the formation’s ancient roots. They opened the door to admit Hanse Davion flanked by a pair of Khaki-clad Federation Marshals, Patrick ‘Playboy’ and Morgan Kell, followed by Jaime, Mackenzie, and Maeve Wolf before closing them just as quickly.
There was a long moment of uncomfortable silence as Hanse Davion took a seat near Yorinaga Kurita, the man who had killed his brother in battle. Yorinaga was however serene, focusing on the proceedings and etiquette, even if the Marshals kept a close eye on him, and his sword. The Kell Brothers and Wolf Dragoon Command Trio sat at the head of the room.
Duke Morgan Kell stood and walked between the tables shaking hands or otherwise exchanging greetings with each attendee. He stood on a slight pedestal before the assembly and the holoprojected image in the center of the room. “Truly I thank you all for coming to Arc-Royal. When Jaime and I began to discuss the Allied Mercenary Command I was not certain what would happen. I surely did not expect to be invaded by an alien civilization from the stars. Nor did I expect them to originate from the Aleksandr Kerensky’s Exodus Fleet.”
Morgan dismounted and played back the initial wave of The Clan’s invasions filling in the volume within the image, dozens of other worlds blinked red showing the present raiding campaign being carried out by Clans Mongoose and Nova Fox against the Commonwealth’s Periphery March. However, they had stopped moving almost two months ago and the AMC was certain it wasn’t because they wanted to wait until after the holidays.
“Yet here we are.” A rough ovoid shape appeared on the holograph its borders overlapping with Arc-Royal, Coventry, Alarion, Halfway, Pherkad, and Odessa. “and Arc-Royal is on the leading edge of what General Roman Steiner has dubbed the ‘Iron Egg.’ Facing them regardless.”
Chuckles arose from Phelen and the more junior officers, their seniors remained silent but amused smiles escaped faces carved of stone or cast in metal.
“The Clans have stopped at Deia to consolidate their gains, redeploy, and resupply themselves. Though they still conducted long range raids in the Periphery March, but only control an area starting from Main Street to Windsor then terminating at Tamar.
Roman thinks that centering our forces in this way will allow us the sally forth and prevent further advances. At least until we can come up with a coherent grand counter-offensive.
Right now, we must limit ourselves to what is at hand. Remove what and who we can from no-man’s land and refit ourselves with the Dragoon’s advanced tech.”
Colonel Grayson Carlyle of the Gray Death Legion stood up, “Why are we waiting here then and letting them consolidate gains? We are on the leading edge; some of us should be attacking or doing something about these raids.”
“I agree Gray, but the Clans have Warships.”
“So do the Dragoons,” everyone looked at the Dragoons strangely, Pryde’s covert debriefing had circulated in well-connected circles, included within was the fact that the Dragoons were initially Clan spies, and that it had gotten their Clan killed and almost ended the modern Clans. “and COMSTAR, but even they can’t have enough to be everywhere.”
“None of them have enough but they do have more independent aerospace units than Warships, especially the ilKhan Mongoose. We need to be cautious and strike with plenty of air cover or they will shred our dropships without hesitation. They know that is a big advantage that we will have difficulty overcoming.”
Colonel Tanaga gave a satisfied head tilt, “That is why I’m here after all. Can’t wait to fly off those Dragoon Warships. It’s gonna be beautiful.”
Morgan looked over to Hanse and Yorinaga, “We must give the politicians enough time to reach a consensus.
Melissa is working Precentor Tharkad and his HPG everyday jockeying up support from the Great Houses and attempting to pressure the Estates General.
Chancellor Liao has sent the Jie Fang Legion and two Warrior Houses, but his empire is still putting itself together, we can’t expect much from him.
Outworlds Privateers have found their way into Commonwealth space at the request of Melissa, to raid Clan Merchant commerce while infiltrating and supporting small units once we pair them with fighter cover.
First Prince Ian has sent his Federated Suns Lancers forward with his father and is attempting to wrestle away more units from his relations among the March Lords. They are presently on Pherkad.
Shockingly this morning it was confirmed that Princes Hohiro Kurita and Andrew Davion will be guests of Primus Waterly above Venus next month to discuss ‘normalization’ that could free up more AFFS units from the Draconis March.
Princess Consort Corrine also seems to be working her father over quite firmly from what I can see. However, as Prime Minister he must abide by the Free World’s League Parliament, which is skeptical given the number of Lyran nobles that fled from their worlds to hide on Tharkad.
I can’t say I blame them. While it is a coincidence that we are staring down the Clan frontlines we all know how they act, and we are getting them to pay through the nose for our services.
In advance.”
The Mercenaries let out a cheer, they were betting their lives, and fortunes on the survival of the Lyran Commonwealth, and the continued value of its Kroner.
“Until Roman can sort out the LCAF’s internal problems and ready them for a counter-offensive it is up to the AMC and COMSTAR’s Precentor Martial Photon Brett and his secret yet somehow giant ****** army to hold the line.
Everyone in this room hasn’t fought in thousands of battles on hundreds of worlds throughout the Succession Wars to let someone else invade it and take over.
These Warriors think War is their life.
It’s our jobs.
We chose to be Warriors and we got good enough that people pay us to do it for them.
In this room are some of the brightest,” He eyed Ariana and Grayson, “most motivated,” Dan and Akira, “professional,” Seamus and Andrea, “and cold-blooded,” Alexander and Hohiro, “Warriors in the Inner Sphere.
If these Clans want my homeworld or to kill my friends and family.”
Morgan eyed Diana in the corner beside Yorinaga, “They must go through me,
and us!
We are going to make them pay, one way or another.
Now let’s get to work AMC. We’ve got a lot to go over,
and time is money.”
-
It could be said that original Clan Invasion was amateurs vs. professionals, but here Clanners are very much professionals themselves, so while the mercs have upped their game, assembling the allstar team, it will be a very difficult campaign.
-
01/20/3052
Knucklehead Training Grounds were filled with noise, steel rang across the many small arms ranges, explosions erupted from the heavy weapons ones, fighters roared overhead strafing at mockups or bombed old tanks with dummy bombs. A deep bassy thrum could be felt when the armored forces of the AMC rolled across the ravaged plains of pretend battlefields.
Ranna Kerensky lifted her M&G automatic as she stalked through the pop-up course, double tapping each silhouette and fast reloading after the eight rounds were up to do it again, and again, and again, until it was pure instinct. The training felt familiar and not just because the Kell Hounds copy-pasted the Tetsuhara Training Grounds of Outreach onto these plains. It took her back to a simpler time during Sibko.
Phelen Kell was there at the starting point with a scoped AM-36 assault rifle that had canted iron sights for CQB and all-around smart design. Made by the Gray Death Legion on Glengarry it had become the standard in the AMC, even if it was a bit pricey. He was putting a trio of magazines into his armored vest, “I could see the Jade Falcon stickers on those targets Ranna.”
She looked down to hide her flush sticking more 10mm rounds into her pistol magazines, “Were you pointing a loaded rifle at me Phelen? In violation of range rules.”
“I did not have a magazine in it. Was originally just looking at your butt.”
“Again?” Ranna unconsciously brushed dust off her pants as she returned filled magazines and pistol to her belt. Phelen could never stop being himself and she secretly hoped he wouldn’t. Life in the Dragoons was frequently grim, particularly now, so some humor helped. She knew that Phelen would always do his best to come through in any difficult situation even if he made light of it later.
“Always. You look good.”
“My technique, or me?”
“Both.”
They both stood by the break area while another fireteam used the range, “I expected you would have found someone different after we parted.
I did not expect to see you again.”
Phelen leaned his rifle against a wooden coil core, arms crossed as the other shooters worked their way through the course. “Going to be honest with you. You are the only woman I have spent any time with that has not almost gotten me killed yet. Even my mother and sister have worse records.”
“That is certainly unexpected, considering how much trouble we got into. So, Diana and you?”
“Are you kidding? She was hunting me down in particular; you should have heard some of the stuff she told me when we captured her. It was a difficult walk to our hideout when we captured them instead.
It was luck that got us off Elissa. Well and Diana’s reckless but precise use of explosives.
Kai and her, are kinda a thing whenever either of them can get out of their own way. Reclaiming their lost family honor and all that. You know?”
“I can’t say that I do.
I’m sorry that being a Ward almost got you killed on Elissa.”
“Jaime already apologized.”
“Hard to believe my uncle would do so.”
“I think he did it to smooth things over with my parents, particularly my mom.”
“That was wise.”
“Apparently the Wolf learned some diplomacy during his time.”
“The Dragoons wouldn’t have survived otherwise.”
“Perhaps the Falcon Irregulars will be faster to learn that lesson.”
Ranna drew her pistol as the fireteam cleared the course, racking the slide back to chamber a round, “That doesn’t mean I am not going to shoot Falcons on the range. It is my duty as a member of Clan Wolf.”
He lifted his rifle to a ready position and did the same, his sleeves were rolled up showing off toned biceps, “As an apparently secret member by bloodright, I feel I should join you. For old times’ sake of course.”
“Well, Phelen, let’s see if your technique remains as keen as ever.”
Phelen smiled bright, “I might be a bit out of practice.”
She returned his smile with her own, “Well then I’ll go easy on you.”
-
You are the only woman I have spent any time with that has not almost gotten me killed yet.
[Klaus Wulfenbach looks at the camera] YET
-
[Klaus Wulfenbach looks at the camera] YET
Well you know, they are about to go into a war together, so some stuff might happen. :evil:
-
01/22/3052
A dense fog settled over Tersus Lake gathered like the bowl of spiced oatmeal in front of Caitlin Kell. She looked up as her brother opened the ornately scroll-worked door for Ranna, both looked at her in surprise. Phelen looked aside, “Sis? You’re back. I wasn’t expecting you…so soon.”
“Sandy and I flew in last night,” her green eyes peered at Ranna’s blue ones, “Not that either of you would have noticed. And not just because my room is on the other side of the wing.”
Cassandra Allard entered from the other side Ranna shifted out of her way before she settled opposite Caitlin. The woman setting her plate of small, steamed buns on the table chop sticks in one hand, then grasped a pencil from the table in the other. She was reading a letter that they could see was from her sister, Kuan-Yin, still on Victoria although neither of them could read it since it was in Cantonese, and twin-code. “Sandy, how was the jungle LandNav exercise with Diana?”
The woman’s pencil broke as she pressed hard ripping the paper beneath it, “I hate her.” She lifted the jagged edge of the pencil to eye level before snapping it in her fingers. Caitlin covered her bowl and face as the halves flew in either direction.
“I understand.” Ranna looked to Phelen and Caitlin who both gave her a sign to not inquire further at the slightly deranged step-cousin of the Kell family. One forbidden from handling blades within the house by the Lady of the House because of previous 'incidents.’
“How about I make you something to eat Ran? You can stay here if you’d like.”
She pulled a chair out, “I think that would be only polite. I never speak with your sister or Sandy.”
Phelen hesitated as she settled within the checkered upholstery, “Suit yourself. I’ll be right back,” then headed into the kitchen.
She looked across at Sandy who seemed confused but returned to eating her breakfast and reading the now slightly torn letter. Instead, Caitlin shifted over to the left to sit across from Ranna who poured out auburn tea into a smooth blue-gray ceramic mug. “So, is this thing between you and my brother a last fling at the end of the world thing? Or something else?”
“I suppose we must live through the end of the world to find out Cait.
I heard you graduated from jets and moved onto VSTOL, ahead of schedule.”
“It helps being the daughter of the guy in charge of the training cadre, in the middle of a war.
Not that I didn’t earn it.”
“I do not mean to imply anything; you know how I feel about legacy and expectation.”
Caitlin paused swallowing a few bites from her breakfast, “I suppose that’s true. It’s not easy being the next generation of heroes, is it?”
“I think it is about to get a lot harder. Everyone expects it any day.
It is exhausting. If they would just attack maybe my training would kick in so I can stop thinking about what might be.”
“You get used to it or it consumes you.” Sandy interjected darkly, before returning to her food and correspondence with her twin. It was the longest sentence either of them had heard from the woman whose short life had been filled with war, tragedy, and betrayal in her homeland.
Phelen returned with a pair of omelets just as Salome Ward-Kell entered wearing the Kell Hounds training uniform like her daughter and ‘ward’ her hair closer to the gray of the training uniform than the black of the normal one. “Are one of those for me dear?”
He paused as the women watched him standing awkwardly in front of his mother, “I can…”
“Just messing with you son, I already ate.” She picked up half a broken pencil from the floor, eyed its jagged end, then Cassandra. “You know these pencils are so very fragile Sandy.” She pulled a pencil off her sweater, “Here is another one so can write your letters.”
Sandy looked down, head slightly bowed, at her empty plate and pencil placed on the torn letter, “Thank you, Lady Kell.”
Her son sat down beside his ‘girlfriend,’ “Ranna it is so nice to see you up close.”
“It is a pleasure to be seen Lady Kell.”
“You know, you can just call me Major Ward little Wolf.”
“Yes, Major Ward.”
“Great work flying in the fog last night Caitlin, if a bit reckless.”
“A warm bed and familiar surroundings was worth the risk. Sandy is pretty good on the instruments.” A slight smile could be seen for a moment on the woman.
“Spoken like your father and Uncle.” She spoke softly but close enough that Ranna and Phelen could overhear her, “Although Patrick’s bed would be warm for other reasons.
Anyway, I am back to kicking cadets into the moors. So goodday all.
Before I go though will you be here for dinner?”
Phelen looked up from the last bits of his omelet, “What are we having?”
“The Northwind Highlanders asked if we could do haggis. I haven’t had it in forever, ever since the first AMC conference.”
“You know mom, I think I still have some Clan rations left.” Phelen and Ranna craned their necks to one another, “Even whatever weird Rasalhague fish Diana picked up sounds better.”
-
I think that for Cassandra, being thrown in the thick of a grinding warfare might improve her mental state. Or it might make her worse, it's a coin toss.
-
I think that for Cassandra, being thrown in the thick of a grinding warfare might improve her mental state. Or it might make her worse, it's a coin toss.
Perhaps we will find out soon enough.
01/25/3052
Atocongo’s jungles were dense below the mountains that enclosed a firebase of The Fighting Intellectuals, the first of the ‘AMC farm teams’ that Patrick Kell and Yorinaga Kurita had established in their retirement. In this case partially recruited from the Draconis Combine’s Support and Engineering Corps which had grown in prominence with Prince Minoru’s service in it. Other members included combat-hardened former members of the CCAF and SIMC. Three sides of the generation long struggle that had threatened to tear the Inner Sphere apart. Now working together to potentially save an empire that was not their own from a faction that could.
Colorful Nobori flags were staked along the perimeter blowing in tropical winds before a Lance of Battlemechs bearing the diamond hazard logo ‘Genius at War’ on their upper legs. A Mechwarrior leapt down from his cockpit landing in the soft grass below to rush forward to a young man crouched over a sand table displaying the valley before them with accurate miniatures for their battalion strength defensive force.
“Major Kubusaka, we have a situation.”
Shinto lifted his head up to the sky, “Then they are finally here?”
“Yes sir.”
“How many?”
“Hardcase and the satellites picked up a dozen Warships and at least three times that in droppers. Looks like at least one Warship from both are providing escort service from both jump points.”
“With that kind of force, they mean to force Grand Duke Kell and the Dragoon’s fleet to us.
Have they transmitted one of their Batchalls yet?”
“Negative sir.”
The Major and his subordinates nodded their heads, “Then they probably don’t intend to.”
“Has the Precentor forwarded it to Arc-Royal?”
“Affirmative sir.”
Shinto looked out into the terrain before them, “So we will have to hold out and plant a garden of ruin for them to buy time and save ourselves.”
He donned his hard hat and stepped toward the collection of industrial equipment they had ‘acquired’ on-world. “No time to waste then, we have slightly more than a week to make the invader’s life more difficult and preserve our own.”
The bulldozer’s ICE engine turned over with a throaty roar as the others donned their helmets and comms. “Planning time is over. Time to put those big brains and broad shoulders of yours to work.”
Within the Volga SLS Mekong a ‘tingling’ sensation came over the ordered rows of SRX robots anchored to the deck-plates of its cargo bays like captive animal statues. Each of them was electronically evaluated and interrogated, deficiencies identified, algorithms tweaked, and work orders submitted to the Technicians walking beside that had so carefully tended them in the months since Wotan. Months where they multiplied and metamorphosized in form and thought, both adjusted from learned experiences spread out among the multitudes.
Waiting in the icy darkness of space within the mothership for an opportunity to see the light of another star shining above the next battlefield.
As is their purpose.
-
Chapter 18 – The Battle for Atocongo
'3052/02/04 | 18:28 | Ambient Temp 31.1*C | External Atmospheric Pressure 61.118 kPa
‘Unit Identifier – SXR-3051-03-15-IA SN# hXN2Ht2E Configuration – SXR-XVIII-Shatter’
We approach the enemy that our mothership and aerial scout’s sensors have discerned, ¿but they do not fire upon us?
ERROR – Previous experiences show enemies engage long before we are this close. ¿Have we surprised them? Unknown/battlefield intelligence aberration, predictive profile failure
Our targets show the proper thermal and RADAR signatures for Battlemechs but our electrooptical systems disagree. The thermal flux and encroaching darkness within this tropical biome require, we ‘focus’ more to identify, classify, and engage.
We query the mothership; she is all knowing and all-seeing. Mekong responds, ‘Destroy all targets in the jungle.’
Our hesitation ends when one Gauss rifle round launches forth, our circuitry ‘drains’ as the coils propel it into the hostiles, behind it a magnesium bright flash from the electrical discharge.
They fall over and cool down ¿destroyed?
ERROR – Battle Damage Assessment fault, unconfirmed kill, uncertain target status
Something within us is uncertain but we have our purpose. If the mothership wishes us to engage the hostiles, then we shall do so, but they are numerous and scattered across a wide area.
Within the close confines of the jungle our electrooptical sensors cannot verify target status at range. There is nothing but green and brown, even the waters are these colors.
Audio sensors are overcome by our SXR-kin that follow behind us as we push into the trees and natural noises. Our LAMS and flamers swivel upon their turret mount but the LAMS active system, DI computer, Targeting Computer, and SARS disagree. Errors and confusion propagate through the Nova threads which weave between us, querying about hostile intent and our action.
Thermal, RADAR, and LIDAR scans show hostiles throughout the jungle. We move to engage but the enemy does not…return fire. They fall but more rise, as our ammunition depletes, we urge the mothership to allow us to withdraw and rearm. Above us even the all-knowing and seeing mothership seems ‘uncertain,’ our purpose is now to ‘recon the area and verify orbital scans. Hold fire until fired upon.’
We attempt to follow our purpose, but the jungle is dense and thick with vines, our progress is slow, and exfiltration grows increasingly distant. An urge ‘doubt’ grows within us, ‘We are not a recon unit. They should send Skewers; they are best equipped to deal with the terrain.
What can we see that the fliers cannot?
Where is the enemy?
What are they planning?'
Finally, we reach a cleared area, one that the Mothership has interpreted as the future base of the ‘Fighting Intellectuals.’ Our sensors discern civilian earthmovers of various configurations. Some metal skeletal structure stands before us we deviate course testing our footing as we walk across a concrete slab. Active sensors are scanning us, we interpret their strength, it grows steadily in magnitude and intensity. ‘Are we near the enemy?’
The Nova network triangulates the signals from the skeletal structure. An X-band RADAR capable of detecting Warships in orbit including our mothership. More antennae jut out from the ground held fast by guide wires even though they sway with the tropical winds. Around us there are numerous thermal and RADAR signatures, they clutter our scopes, some move, some remain still, others fade in and out. None of them act like anything we have seen before.
Our enemy continues to evade classification, unclassified objects cannot be targeted, only targets can be engaged, the loop continues as we circle the site investigating everything with our sensors. Above us the mothership’s voice becomes more ‘distant,’ ‘faint,’ until it disappears. Even the Nova network begins to degrade, we are ‘isolated’ from our kin despite being able to see one another.
Then the concrete slab beneath us fails and we fall into darkness.
-
When Artificial Intelligence meets something that does not compute. And now the allies have captured intact specimen to test them for vulnerabilities.
-
When Artificial Intelligence meets something that does not compute. And now the allies have captured intact specimen to test them for vulnerabilities.
Indeed. Won't they be surprised.
--
Great bursts of microwave emanate out with each jumpship’s KF-emergence wave, ‘AMC’ emblazoned upon each flank of the slender craft in fresh paint, bulbous dropships clinging to it like barnacles. Atocongo’s resident Saturnine gas giant, Santo Domingo, lofting like a pearl against the starscape nearby.
Lieutenant Phelen Kell hovered in microgravity within the astrogation dome of the ‘Junkyard.’ Their Star Lord jumpship retracted the cranes and collar that held the dropship during their transit so that it could ignite its thrusters and head toward Atocongo with the rest of ‘AMC Task Force Able’. Captain Jackson Teng joined him filling the volume of the dome to its occupancy limit as they belted themselves in the chairs as the yellow thrust warning blinked. “Do you think they can do it Lieutenant?”
Phelen buckled himself in as the helmsman rang the bell, their viewscreen shifted as the RCS thrusters adjusted their attitude and thruster cone away from their jumpship. The view screen showed a positive astrogation lock on the planet Atocongo, a distant blue-green dot that would take almost two weeks at 1g to reach. Dozens of other dropships showed similar locks and as courses were confirmed and coordinated by Battle Magic’s Commander Jena Nakitsu’s Achilles, their Group Leader, they turned green.
“If it is possible Wolf’s Dragoons and the AMC can do it. Otherwise, this is going to be a very short cruise.” Phelen looked ‘up’ at the Zenith Jump Point, “unfortunately we won’t know for a few hours.”
The sharply raked prow of the 60-gunned Hellgate-Battlecruiser SLS Goliath hovered above Atocongo’s primary. Star Commodore Timon Sword stood on his command dais scanning the holographic sphere that his vessel’s sensors completely recreated every few minutes. Presently all it displayed was the SLS Anne Rosse the namesake of her large carrier class, commanded by his very slight superior Star Admiral Anjelica Leroux. The Rosse’s air group was commanded by Star Commodore Flora Binetti whose sparkling blue eyes he missed. Roughly 60-degree off-bow (creating a Triangle) were their escorting triad of Pride-class Destroyers (SLS Panic, Worry, and Serenity) the latest incarnation of an unbroken Lola line that stretched back to the Terran Hegemony. Between them a loose flotilla of Pentagon fast attack craft clustered occasionally coming back to their motherships for resupply. Pilots maintained their flight hours by conducting aerobatic maneuvers between them all. Gunships patrolled the circumference of their active zone probing it for unseen threats that might require a response.
His staff huddled around the long-range sensor array, “Commodore Sword, we are detecting multiple sets of KF-blooming, looks like something big is coming.”
“Fantastic,
Comms send an HPG to Admiral Ismiril. Tell him the Dragoons have arrived, as expected.
Ops, halt the grav rings, begin evacuation of all non-essential compartments.
Engineering, bring the reactor to full power, activate and staff damage control shelters.
Security, have troops on standby and shuttles launched to support the Rosse's air group.”
“Aye, sir.”
Timon Sword donned his helmet and secured himself to the chair as his display screens rose from their resting locations. His bridge crew did the same as the blooms appeared on the sphere before him. The escorting destroyers and Pilots with enough fuel turned to face the incoming contacts, Anne Rosse's contact blinked marking herself as readying launch operations. Espatiers and Damage Control crew strapped themselves in critical compartments sitting beside or above their weapons and tools. Lights turned red and atmospheric pressure dropped in unoccupied compartments. Gunnery crews manned their firing stations, confirmed integrity, and targeting.
The Aegis cruiser SLS Alexander Nevsky appeared first followed by the rest of the Dragoon's Flotilla (a dozen dropships, 150 fighters/gunships, plus 4.1 MT of Warship vs half-dozen dropships 190 fighters/gunships, 3.65 MT of Warship).
“All hands this is Commodore Sword, prepare for battle.”
-
Captain Petya Novikova felt the davit cranes grasp her slender, dart like TR-9 Transit, painted in a ‘full suit’ of 13 fighter kills during the latest Marik and Capellan Civil Wars. A growing painted flame reached to the cockpit, a big cannon in the nose, and a large missile under its belly. The SLS Charlemagne transferred her to the launch door as the flight controller blinked yellow on her console. Empty space and more hostile enemies were just on the other side as it cycled. A synthetic bassy man’s voice emanated from the console, ‘Pilot controls engaged. Fighter launch imminent.’
“Finally! Took you Dragoons long enough.
I’ve been ready to go for an hour.
That never happens.
If you believe my husband.”
She grasped the stick and paddles as her sensors came online, inside her helmet she looked around at the rest of her squadron which were also ‘on the hook.’
“Stick with the plan, protect the bombers, don’t get to close to those Warships. That’s Alexander’s job.”
Affirmative came in over the BattleNet at her instructions and the Dragoons’ OOG Flight Commander Colonel Carmody’s inquiry.
SLS Charlemagne halted its thrusters just long enough for the davit cranes to push them clear of the lower super-structure and their own engines to engage. Her RADAR and other sensors were suddenly saturated with the number of contacts resolving them despite the powerful jamming suites onboard the Nova Fox Warships. As her thrusters pushed forward her breath quickened, “That’s a lot of contacts, and a really big Warship.” Even though they had been practicing with the Dragoon’s flotilla the sheer size of these vessels was frightening. Within her Transit she couldn’t help but feel tiny. No wonder the Star League was so feared in the past.
SLS Alexander Nevsky, the Dragoon’s Aegis heavy cruiser, was launching tons of ordnance in the SLS Goliath’s direction. Its Captain was rotating, absorbing, and spreading out the damage while returning fire with its own crushing guns, each one firing a round capable of obliterating her fighter if she was careless. Missiles and other heavy ordnance filled the gap between them with death. Their fighters kept to below and above the plane of engagement unfortunately this made them more visible to the three Destroyers escorting their larger ships.
Orbital Ops cleared her vector and issued an expanding ‘Red Zone’ as the corvette SLS Saladin let loose swarms of active mines from the canisters on its aft toward the SLS Anna Rosse and SLS Goliath. Opportunistic weapons meant to potentially cause some damage but more importantly break the Nova Fox Flotilla’s cohesion long enough for them to get the job done and back now that they were committed to battle.
It had the intended effect forcing the Goliath upward from the plane of contact, away from her flight, and right into the guns of the Nelson and Turrene destroyers. Petya’s thrusters threw out plasma behind her Transit driving her further into the seat. Hell’s Black Aces was making a run while they had the opportunity.
Nova Fox fighters disengaged from their previous targets bleeding off velocity pointing them in the wrong direction as the Pentagons moved to intercept them. She felt the recoil of her nose gun, the common ‘squished’ feeling she had while firing it under thrust as the accelerations competed along the spine of her airframe. It impacted the armor of the Pentagon, but the large assault craft did not seem affected as much as she would have liked.
Regardless Hell’s Black Aces were on an intercept vector and didn’t slow down even as the Anna Rosse attempted to defend herself and evade. Petya’s path was already becoming increasingly crowded with Ogotai and Visigoth interceptors making runs against her and the Aces. There was no time or fuel to chase them as they flew by although several of the Ace’s scored hits on the hostile fighters.
Tokugawa and Charlemagne’s weapons shifted away from the destroyer SLS Worry to the Pentagons forcing the Nova Foxes to disengage and take evasive action after a single slashing strike or risk obliteration from their guns. Barracuda and Killer Whale missiles chased them into the blackness. Each one starting out as a missile nearly as large as her fighter and launched similarly before shedding its mass to become a nimble interceptor missile capable of carrying even a nuclear payload, just like the Traverse bombers she was escorting.
The Anne Rosse grew larger in her view screen, its destroyer like armament and displacement entirely dedicated to protecting it from aerospace fighter attack. Behind her the Worry fired a salvo of nuclear tipped White Shark missiles toward the Tokugawa which forced their Warships to stop suppressing the Nova Fox fighters who burned toward them and their carrier. Hell’s Black Aces flew into a fusillade of capital missiles, lasers, and guns as well as triple or more standard weapons mounted in turrets that damaged many and crippled a few before they could get a lock.
Petya confirmed RADAR lock and armed the Anti-Ship missile beneath her. The gunships behind them were punching through the Warship’s jamming and decoys with their more powerful EWAR suites. The Aces could do little to hurt the Clan Warship with their conventional weapons should they even wish or even have the fuel to make a second pass. This is the only one that counted, the missile burned out accelerated by her own fighter and its engine for maximum kinetic effect. "Fox Three."
Behind her a Squadron of Traverse bombers released their own payload,
Alamos separated from the even more streamlined fighters.
"Jericho"
-
And it's Oppenheimer time. Totally Ares legal of course.
Is the canned sunshine from Steiner stocks or has AMC their own source?
-
And it's Oppenheimer time. Totally Ares legal of course.
Is the canned sunshine from Steiner stocks or has AMC their own source?
"Deny this man, Morgan Kell, nothing."
Archon Katrina Steiner, 22 July 3007
-
SLS Goliath’s CIC was crowded with multiple screens showing battle damage and compartment breaches despite the Hargel that was supposed to keep them airtight. Slight women in orange Pilot g-suits worked alongside much taller and broader Espatier men in blue. Their chatter filled the chamber as every radio on the ship seemed to be in operation and slight dimming of the lights accompanied HPG transmissions.
Dominating the central viewscreen of the cruiser was the Nova Fox’s sister Star belonging to Clan Mongoose. Centering on the carrier Quicksilver and battlecruiser Fossa with the SLS Guilt, Anger, and Rage providing double destroyer and additional escort Carrier coverage. In the center of the CIC its' holographic sensor sphere displayed constant updates through the vessel’s Naval Communication and Sensor Suite displayed the ongoing salvage and recovery operations.
An Espatier shouted from the bulkhead, “Admiral on deck!”
Star Admiral Anjelica Lereoux drifted onto the CIC, her face was bandaged, slightly graying hair mostly hidden under a soft-cap, and an arm was in a sling, but her steely-gray cyber-eyes were fixed only forward toward the Goliath’s Captain. “Star Commodore Sword.”
Timon was already in the lead with Flora Binetti beside him. “Star Admiral Leroux. It is good to see you survived with only moderate injuries.
When I heard the Anne Rosse’s flag deck was impacted I feared the worst.”
“Fortunately, it was not one of the nuclear bombs delivered by those lucrewarriors of the Allied Mercenary Command,” she stared at Flora, her Carrier’s Flight Leader, “that got past my fighter group.”
Flora started, “I…” but was halted by Anjelica raising her and, “Do not make excuses Group Leader!
We could not anticipate such a bold hit and run raid from the Dragoons.
That is my fault. They have not been Clan for decades.
I was foolish to underestimate them and think they would fight us in a final showdown.
The Foxes were outfoxed, so I shall answer to the Khan.
Damn that Jaime Wolf!
I have been out of it for an hour. How did we fare?”
Both Commodores waited for a moment while they figured out who she intended to address before Timon spoke. “My ship and our destroyers were severely damaged by the Dragoons, but all systems are operational and there are less than one hundred fatalities and only one Pentagon escort lost although they have been mauled and will need repair.
Damage Control is ongoing and will be for some time. The Anne Rosse as you know is going to require a long time at DNC-One (Camelot Command/Dark Nebula Cageworks-1) to fix the damage from the nuclear bombs. Maybe it can be repaired by summer.
Admiral Ismiril has offered to send additional crew onboard to hasten repairs. However, I am not at liberty to accept his aid, but you may.”
Flora followed, “We lost thirty fighters but recovered or are in the process of recovering twenty-five Pilots. Timon and I have been coordinating the efforts.”
She looked toward Commodore Sword causing her helmet to shift until she held it to her hip, “With the Anne Rosse crippled some of the Pilots and their tech crews will need to be transferred to other vessels. It may require doubling berth occupancy for a time, but we will manage.”
Anjelica took a moment and let out a sigh, “It had better be hot-racking Commodores.
I am assuming command for now and will coordinate with Admiral Ismiril.
Relieve me in,” she looked at the Warriors before her, “two hours.
No longer than that you understand. Quiaff?”
“Aff Admiral Leroux.”
They saluted and drifted carefully around the woman as she took the captain’s chair and its endless stream of incoming data. She requested a private encrypted video call with the Fossa and was connected to a handsome but aging man with graying hair and unnatural purple cyber-eyes. “Greetings Admiral Leroux, it has been a while since we have seen each other quiaff?”
“Aff Months, roaming around the Inner Sphere looking for and causing trouble.
I need a berth Modu.”
“Anjelica, as usual I am always happy to provide mine if the opportunity arises. For old times’ sake.”
“For old times’ sake.”
-
02/14/3052
Phelen Kell’s Jungle camo painted PHX-2K, the inspiration for his Wolfhound, crashed into the verdant grasslands of the Pampas. His Battlemech’s knees endured the impact of their low altitude drop-off into the battlefield as the machine sunk slightly into the soil. He spat out his mouthguard and lifted his mech’s legs out of the earth. “What does the DCMS have against Jump Jets on Mediums!?”
With a flick of the switch his mech’s drop pack disengaged and it fell onto an immense termite mound. The insects swarmed over the intruder in defense of their mound.
A Clint landed nearby, its jump jets igniting a wet patch of grassland before the pilot stomped it out. “You landed a little rough there Phelen. You alright?”
“I’m fine. I’m used to not having jump jets, but it would make things easier.”
Behind them the other MechWarriors of 222’s Scout Lance appeared, a streamlined Cicada and crested Hermes III, all of whom bore similar camouflage optimized for their mech’s distinct silhouette. “Especially since we are going to be fighting in a jungle Lieutenant.”
“We must get across the grasslands first. Then we link up with the Intellectuals. Their transmission equipment must have been knocked out by the warship above their LKL. If I can get close enough, we might be able to get a sitrep.”
“The Sitrep is they have a warship over them.”
Long range RADAR from the covert ‘Tin Can’ spy satellite the Junkyard kicked out was picking up faint traces of something far from them and growing closer. 222 Scout Lance burst out into a run across the grassland. “Yeah, but why? The Intellectuals are good according to Patrick. Could they still be able to resist with a Warship right over them?”
“It could be a trap. Battle Magic and our fighters managed to hold them off long enough to get some of us on-world. They could be luring us in.”
“Maybe Julian, but we have backup now.
Our people came for us. We must do the same for them. Maybe they too have found an interesting prisoner.”
02/04/3052
Three men stood before a crippled metal beast bound by heavy steel cables as it was pulled deeper into the caverns by the underground loader. Their headlights caused glimmers in the salt crystal as they tapped their climbing axes on the ground below, harnesses still heavy with satchel charges and their rifles.
“There was nobody inside Shinto.”
“What do you mean?”
“It’s not piloted. It doesn’t even have a cockpit.”
Major Kubosaka walked up to what he figured was the quadruped mech's primary sensor mast and tapped it. Multiple cameras were uncovered from their protective shrouds. His reflection stared back at him through the purple and golden unblinking stare of its bug-like hyperspectral ‘iris.’
“Well, I wonder if we can still get it to talk.”
-
It is common knowledge that drones do no talk.
Fighting Intelectuals: ''Challenge accepted.''
-
02/15/3052
222 Scout Lance was prone beneath the camouflage netting further disguised by carefully selected plants that had a bad day with a machete. Marsden pulled the last of it over his Cicada. “Where did you get this stuff Phelen?”
They staked the netting down into the moist jungle soil sending forth an irritated and irritating group of flies. “Apparently Loki had some lying around. Just in case they needed to bring a mech on a stealth mission.”
Phelen took a few steps back and looked in with the multispectral Rangefinding Binoculars hanging from his neck. Everything looked normal in the glade, even aerial observation from the enemy’s recon drones might not be able to discern their location. Hopefully it would work equally well against the patrols of Mongoose mechs regularly scouting this area based on the tracks. The speed at which the Ghost Bear Pack Hunter had dismantled his Wolfhound was still staggering, even with a mech a third heavier he didn’t like his odds in a fair fight. Which is why he didn’t want to have one of those if there was an easier option.
Unfortunately, that easier option involved a short night hike through buggy jungle to where ‘Tin Can’ identified the Clan’s ground task force base despite being onboard a river barge. A hike where he was carrying a light scouting load made mostly of batteries for his ECM sneak suit and so much water. He shouldered the weight and secured it firmly before checking his command, “Time for another walk in the wilderness team. Drink up if you need it. It will lighten the load.”
The other three MechWarrior commandoes chuckled, “Roger that El Tee.”
Julian forced his way through the ensnaring vines and oppressive canopy that shielded them from aerial surveillance and starlight. “No wonder Diana is so hardcore. If I grew up in a hostile jungle like this, I’d end up the same way.”
The tree line faded to a benighted river but a bright base camp on the opposite bank. Faint running lights were revealed in the IR spectrum when they paused to pull out the binoculars. They ducked in as a RPB boat motored nearby shining a blinding spotlight on the opposite bank from their base camp. A heavy machine gun swiveled around and illuminated a nearby snake then they continued their way leaving behind a rippling wake. “I guess the Intellectuals have them on guard for sabotage.”
“They didn’t recruit heavily from the CCAF for their linear tactics.”
“Well, I suppose it’s better they are on our side then. That just seemed to be a vigilance patrol. We came in on the other bank for a reason.”
Above them a ‘Marker’ drone hovered as it approached the ARCC (Atocongo Riverine Command Craft) Gran Chico, a monitor built from a converted river freighter, and landed on its stern helicopter deck. The bow held a Sniper Howitzer in a single turret, multiple smaller cannons, and Long-Range Missile racks were mounted amidships in doubles meant to protect it from air attack or ambushes from the shore as well as provide supporting fires, “It seems much bigger than the picture, and they are better prepared than intel told us.”
In the binoculars they could see the symbols on the crew patrolling the deck. It belonged to this Free Zone’s lead criminal enterprise. “Seems the local Cartel accepted the Nova Fox’s hostile takeover.” They left behind a pair of observers and found a small clearing to deploy the microwave transmission set.
A burst transmission was fired out to ‘Tin Can’ above revealing what they had discovered so far. Return message displayed after ten minutes, ‘link up with locals at these grid coordinates, they have a previous relationship with AMC, authorized payment and evac if requested, restore communication to FI, continue on mission.’
Phelen sighed, “Sub-contracting as always Battle Magic.”
“Why can’t they send more people down? They’ve got shuttles. There’s only a Recon and Striker Company down here.”
“And that is all we can spare and support presently without dropships on the ground. The others are keeping the Mongoose forces on world occupied. With some air support and the Fighting Intellectuals we can get clear of whatever forces Nova Fox has sent down here.
I only spotted a few mechs and mostly cartel gunmen or auxiliaries, no armored infantry. The mechs were quads though. Which is strange .
Diana didn’t tell us the Clans had any quads still in service.”
“Maybe she didn’t know.”
“She was on the Watch. Weird, we’ll have to see what the others have found out about them.
I hate secret projects.”
He looked over the intel report, “These locals seem to be smugglers and have some hover-tanks, gunmen, and better intel. We should give them a chance to play pirate.” They returned to the observation post, “Keep an eye on everything and your heads down. I am going to make some new friends.”
“Again?”
“What?
We’ve got a good record so far.”
Julian and Phelen crept near the coordinates before hearing something rustling in the trees. They looked up an found a group of gunmen in the branches clad in green military-style fatigues. Phelen held a gold coin in his hand that was illuminated by a mixed ground team brandishing parang machetes, “¿Alguien Habla Ingles?”
-
Phelan making new friends, this ought to be good.
-
A large man stepped forward from the crowd, a light machine gun in hand. “Did you come all the way here without speaking our language?”
Phelen kept his head on a swivel and his hand close to his own parang. “Atocongo is one of my father’s demesnes. I know enough for the senoritas, Capitan Abayon.”
One of the women scoffed as the rest of the group sheathed their swords and relaxed their grip on their firearms, “Selena does not seem impressed Lieutenant Kell.”
“Cesar, you should see me in my formal uniform.”
“We heard you a way off. I thought you were trained by Seventh Kommando.”
“I am.
However, I was told I was expected and didn’t want to end up with a knife to my throat, again. I’ve had enough of that at home. It’s not funny the second time.
You wouldn’t happen to have a cold beer somewhere in your camp.”
Cesar chuckled as the smugglers dispersed and they walked toward the tents of his camp, “Always the mercenary.” He lifted the machine gun over his shoulder. “Follow me.”
The smugglers had encamped themselves in an inlet, four Harasser, two Harrier and Whirlwind hover-tanks were sheltered under individual half-dome constructs. A small flotilla of hover-sleds was scattered where there was space hidden under camouflage netting. Cesar handed out a few bottles of the local brew from a small refrigerator and accepted a flask of Cuchulain whiskey from under Phelen’s jacket. They looked downriver from the narrow inlet as a RPB prowled somewhere on the dark river somewhere within earshot.
“How have you avoided detection from the Clan’s drones?”
“Trade secrets. Hiding our strength is one of my group’s strengths.
We had more but the San Rosas were swift to turn on us and impound our dropship.
These are all that remain.”
“I can’t promise you will get your dropship back, but we can evacuate your people on ours. The San Rosas’ mothership needs to be taken out of the fight. Its gun makes it to dangerous to land a dropship nearby.”
“How many of your people are on world Phelen?”
“A Battalion, most of whom are distracting the Mongoose. It seems like the Foxes only deployed auxiliaries to handle the Fighting Intellectuals and whatever those weird quad mechs are.”
“They’ve holed themselves up in the salt mine, mined the path, and deployed many decoys. The jungle is tough on its own, fighting uphill or underground just makes it more so.
This is a remote area; your people have chosen a strong redoubt.”
“Captain, can you take control of that mothership if we give you some air cover?
We need it to support my recon lance long enough for the FI to sally out and get to a landing zone. The one we have in mind is riverside so you can float down and head out with us.”
“You want us to abandon our homes?”
“The Clans have deployed Warships over this world. Tanaga’s Aces gave them a black eye, crippled one of their carriers and negated them for now, but they will regroup.
There are not enough forces on world to resist an invasion and we can’t deploy them with the enemy holding the high ground.”
“We can do it.” He patted the machete at his waist, “I want payback from Colonel Caralos. Maybe he is even onboard. If not, I’ll scuttle his prized boat and accept that for now.”
“Can you be ready for dawn?
We are under a bit of a time crunch before the enemy fleet recovers and deploys something with more firepower than some armed freighters.”
“Aye. How much air cover are you giving us?”
“Two squadrons are what we can spare. The rest are going to be tying up the orbital defenders.
It should be enough to handle the fast boats and suppress the others. I’ll give you the frequencies, but I’ll be providing combat air control from my mech.”
“My people will be ready.” Phelen and Julian turned to head out before they were stopped, “Take two cervesas for the road, and your companions. It will make it lighter for us to carry.”
“Gracias Cesar. Nos vemos al amanecer.”
Phelen Kell’s Phoenix Hawk was still dripping with water after fording the river when the communication came in from ‘tin can’ above. ‘Strike package inbound, two Flights, CALLSIGN VALOR, awaiting targeting.’
Just beyond his mech’s magnified sight he could see the hostile boats redeploying and heard the whine of hover-fans on approach. The rest of the 222 Recon Lance stood around him, “Hold position guys, I have to take a call.”
-
“El tee, we’ve got a problem.”
Phelen focused on his laser rangefinder and communications gear. The fighters flew fast and high above, their firepower could easily hit the wrong targets; especially since he didn’t want them to aim for the biggest hostile like they normally would. “I’m kinda busy right now.”
“We are about to be a lot busier. That Mongoose patrol we evaded; they tracked us back.”
Hairs raised on Phelen’s neck as he throttled up his mech’s power systems, “We walked on the bottom of the damn river to avoid those guys.” His mech’s head peered over trees to see a Star of Mongoose mechs leaping across the river before starting toward their position.
Their machines lifted out of the river and onto the bank. “I hate these guys.
Valor flight, maintain a combat air patrol.”
Cesar came in over the radio, machine gun and explosions in the background, “Give me control.”
“You are going to be doing it without a mech’s targeting systems.”
“But it will get done kid. It’s my people in the firing line. Trust me.”
“Valor flight Captain Abayon is taking over guidance.”
Above them the pilots acknowledged pointing their fighters earthward and arming their weapons.
“You help me get on that boat; I’ll help you with your mech problem when we’re done.”
Arctic Cheetahs fired volleys of their advanced missiles toward them, the extended-range weapons arched high and dove through the trees. Recon Lance returned fire with a chatter of autocannons and laser bursts charring jungle around them. Above them fighters dove from the sky weapons striking like the talons of birds of prey.
A mist arose from the legs of Phelen’s Phoenix Hawk as his heat sinks struggled to dissipate excess energy from his lasers as the Conjurers approached. 222’s Recon Lance withered under the Mongoose’s firepower. Each hit was critical and worryingly close to rendering them ineffective. Opposite them the Mongoose provided no easy targets and fresh armor with each slack blow. Phelen’s neck was slick with sweat from the heat within and since his last fight against the Clans on Elissa had gone so poorly. “Their weapons are to strong Phelen. We must withdraw.”
“No. We can’t outrun them anyway.
Hold our ground until our allies can aid us.”
Gray Guardian Jump Jets roared over the treetops firing off a thunderous rocket volley into the Conjurers that knocked them into the water. More missiles flew over the canopy and into the other mechs. Ducted fans opened on the VTOL planes creating a whirlwind in the river below, just outside the enemy’s effective range. “Sorry we are late; you should have called ahead.”
Mongoose mechs scattered as the Guardians turned to face them before they leap across the river to conceal themselves in the woods. “We figured you would see us. Thanks for the assist.”
“They’ll be back, and in greater number.”
“We’ll be gone. As soon as you can reach here.
Don’t worry about gear we can replace it if necessary.”
Phelen uploaded the dust-off coordinates through the Fighting Intellectual’s battle-net. He zoomed in on the monitor and saw that the Auxilaries were abandoning ship, their patrol boats were aflame or drifting lazily on the current having been cleared of their crew by the smugglers’ guns and overhead cover.
The AMC stood in a large glade with flattened trees cleared by a heavy thermobaric bomb prior to the Overlord dropship’s arrival. Abayon’s men set the charges and let the monitor drift on the current. Phelen waited impatiently as the Fighting Intellectuals arrived escorting a quadruped Heavy Lifter Cargomech. The Insectoid quad had another, more beastial looking, quadruped mech legs up on its back cargo deck.
Phelen’s damaged Phoenix Hawk stood before the Fighting Intellectual’s CO in his battleworn Crusader. “Shinto, what is that?”
“That’s our prisoner.”
“Your prisoner?”
“Hai,” Shinto Kubusaka’s Crusader patted the smaller Kell Hound’s mech on the back causing it’s gyro to shift and correct for the sudden force. “I’ll explain later Phelen.”
The Fighting Intellectuals streamed into the dropship as exoskeletons unlimbered and loaded the captured quad and their gear into a cargo bay as ants would move their prey into the colony. Phelen and Shinto were last onboard, their mechs were no sooner in the cradle than airmobile Nova Foxes were on approach. “You better have a good explanation.”
“Only if you have cold beer.”
-
Hopefully the prisoner was talkative.
I presume that was the RL version of JJs, given their punch in a single go.
-
The Conjurers were also damaged already and the battle was turning against them. The sudden arrival of hostile air support just hastened their departure.
Chapter 19 – The Word of Blake
01/08/3052
COMSTAR Dante Frigates patrolled the dark icy shoals surrounding Odessa IV ‘Eris’ far removed from the warmth of Odessa’s primary. Shards of frosty stone shattered against armored prows further obscuring everything in a crystalline haze that grotesquely refracted their running lights. A large icy planetoid loomed large amongst the rings; from the proper angle one could see what appeared to be a great maw leading within easily mistaken from some monstrous void creature.
The ‘Ruins of Gabriel’ lie within, a dozen reinforced ring habitats surrounding two large voids capable of encasing a Warship. These habitats reminded Precentor Martial Photon Brett of his wife when she wore to many bangles and not just because they were incredibly loud.
He looked out from the central observatory into the now empty cages where Dantes 11 and 12 CS Styx and CS Virgil had just completed outfitting. Now it was merely a well-protected supply depot for his COMGuards, which would soon deploy against the Clan Occupation Zone. Either that or it would be a hidden redoubt from which to hinder the Commonwealth’s industrial potential to aid COMSTAR’s enemy should they lose the will, or capability, to fight.
Most of the Titan Yard’s crew had returned to Sol with the Faslanes so the halls were much quieter than they had been over the last months. Photon walked past the docking collar where his Seeker waited to the salutes of the Guardsmen assigned to his detail. An alert rang out over the halls, “Incoming unidentified KF-blooms.”
Photon caught and rode a cable toward the nearest node along with other COMSTAR Space Command and COMGUARDs officers. The KF-bloom resolved to reveal a dozen jumpships and a large Warship in their center. He zoomed in on them to see the seal of the Jovian Imperial Defense Force and a different one on the Warship. “I recognize only one of those factions Precentor Martial. What is the bloody hand?”
“Manei Domini, the Hands of The Master, although you might know them as The Cult of Mars. That Warship is the CS Word of Blake formerly known as the SLS Enterprise.”
“I thought they were just a legend.
Boogiemen to tell Neophytes and children.”
“Maybe they were before, but no longer.” Photon grasped the table and reassured himself with a pat on his needler pistol. “The stories you might have heard about them are however very true.”
As the IFF resolved the alert was relaxed, he opened a channel to Precentor Admiral Beresick, the ranking officer aboard the station beside himself, “Alain, you should roll out the red carpet for his Imperial Majesty Baldric the Fourth.”
“What about the Master?” Alain spoke with trepidation, almost fearful at the mention of that name.
“I will handle him. I just need a shuttle.”
“Thank you, Photon. The Word of Blake has issued no hails.”
-
Oh, guests, how fun! Let's see how Photon's relationship with the Master and his pets has developed. Photon's still a frail, as far as we know, right?
-
Photon gripped the bars leading to the airlock attached to the S-7 Shuttle as he looked toward the crew backlit by an eerie crimson light. The main cockpit looked out toward one of the CS Word of Blake’s hanger bays with strange looking fighters hanging from the ‘ceiling’ as small drones shuffled along the deck. “Don’t open this door for anything but me.”
“Aye.” Precentor Martial Brett donned his helmet and triggered the soft white lights attached to the off-gray marine combat suit.
They looked toward one another with concern, “He did say any ‘thing’ right?”
The Co-Pilot shuttered the main view window from the cockpit then locked the shuttle down after receiving an all clear signal from the outer door of the airlock keeping incompatible atmospheres separated. They all drew laser pistols and waited in the bloody light. “Aye.”
Outside Photon’s boot was nudged by a small robot with a central track of tiny electromagnets emerging from both sides of its body, “Have I dropped so low that you send this as my welcome?”
His sloth caused the robot to bump him again, his comms synched to the Enterprise’s internal Battlenet displaying a map of the internal schematics. An AR overlay showed the names of the various machines that scurried and swung through the hanger bay. “Lead the way Unibot.”
Skittering two to eight legged robots and nimble flying machines shared the halls with asymmetric cyborg abominations. Photon was uncertain whether he found the robot’s formless chrome visor masks more or less disconcerting than the silvered dead eyes and uncannily colored ‘flesh’ of the Manei Domini. Cables and pipes snaked throughout the ancient Warship burrowing into every opening. Passages from The Word of Blake in High Dominus adorned the walls like obscene graffiti written in blood.
He could make out of it since his Greek had improved while leading the Sahara Project, but the AR overlay did the rest. All these passages did was remind him just how twisted Thomas Marik had become in his role as The Master. If only he had used a slightly bigger bomb none of this might have happened. Nevertheless, if Thomas stayed out of the way and brought a gigantic alternate target for the Clans to shoot at then his uncle’s disconcerting presence would be a net benefit.
As he neared the central command deck the number of cyborgs increased dramatically. They looked aside or down at him but said nothing through their helmet comms, at least in public. A six-limbed lady cyborg monstrosity and giant man made of myomer and metal barred his way further. Photon waited for a moment while the unibot continued, before turning its strange eye stalks back at him when it realized he wasn’t following.
“They didn’t give me a password. Perhaps Open Sesame shall suffice or shall I begin reciting the Heart Sutra, Talmud, Rawḥ al-arwāḥ, or something from Rumi and Azami.”
One of them, the giant, bared a mouth of metal, “You dare to insult us frail.”
“What is life without a little daring?
You have a beautiful smile by the way.
I have also always wished to have a few extra hands. Particularly in space. Tell Doctor Cortland and Caligula I look forward to seeing what new horrors lurk in their laboratories. Particularly if they mean to deploy them against faithless Clanners.”
Somehow the owner of the extra limbs carried more energy than his own wife when she was in a mood. It must have been the extra layer of arms presently topped with tri-claws taken from a combat exoskeleton crossed over her chest. “You are no more of the faith than they are Precentor Martial.
You do not believe in the Word thus Vapula has no interest in sharing his secrets with you or any of the unenlightened.”
“I believe in the Word’s ability to accomplish tasks.
However, I have no interest in voluntarily removing my meaty, sinful bits any time soon.
So, they can keep their secrets if they desire.
Now stop stalling, your Master expects me.”
Although they made no motion to do so the door opened, its triple armored door meant to protect the command deck where robots and cyborgs monitored screens. The central holographic projector displayed a hyperspectral display of local space near the Word of Blake. All around them was a large fleet of Jovian Imperial Forces and Manei Domini operated carriers and assault dropships. Photon walked forward as the door closed behind him toward the wizened form of Thomas Marik who looked up at the projector while a large dark-skinned man directed subordinates.
“Always good to see Apollyon in action, Thomas.”
“He is a faithful servant. Although he must return to Shiloh then to his people and is merely gracing us with his presence while we shakedown the Word of Blake.”
“So, you are to lead this battlegroup?”
“With assistance from Gabriel Station. No one is more qualified to command this vessel than the one that saw promise in it and spent years rebuilding it.
It has been my ordained task to lead it into battle against our foes, as prophesized.” His smile was made monstrous by the faux flesh and metal of his cheeks. “Are you afraid for me?”
“As prophesized by whom?”
“Myself.
The Word of Blake stands against its foes within Ruins encased in darkness.
Remade as it was, Unmade by its creators, to be built anew one last time.”
“You spend to much time in the desert Thomas.”
“As do all those who make history Photon. I have a gift for you to take into battle with the COMGUARDs. Noelani!”
A woman with similar features to Apollyon appeared with a gold and silver reliquary box wrapped in white and red cloth. “Within this are the bones of Julia Hartford. The first of the order I now head. One of the unspoken saviors of COMSTAR and with it, humanity.
If you consult her bones. You will find answers to many questions you might encounter in your darkest hour.”
“You want me to take the bones of a dead woman? To do what with?”
“Take them with you and have faith Photon.
Otherwise, you will find no victory against the Clans.” One of the smaller holoprojectors displayed a propaganda image from the One Star Faith of ilKhan Showers and the other Khans aboard the McKenna’s Pride somewhere in the occupation zone.
“They believe in the righteousness of their cause and strength of their Leaders because they show it.
You must as well, or the COMGuards will fail as surely as the LCAF has. They need to believe in your and something larger than themselves.
The sooner they realize that the less opportunity the Clans have to gain victory against us.
Time is short Photon.
I foresee the next months will make or break the Blessed Order that has stood for centuries as the Guardian of the Inner Sphere.
The one that many other martyrs have died to protect. Precentor Martial you will make martyrs of those under your command. Saint Julia was merely an early adopter. Now go.
Fulfill your Oath to the Primus, fight valiantly to preserve our Blessed Order and earn your place in its history. Do not disappoint me nephew,” he brushed burned skin with a cybernetic arm, “you were meant for more. As am I.”
Photon entered the shuttle to find the crew jumpy with laser pistols out and pointed toward him. “You’re back Precentor Martial. What is in the box?”
He put the finely crafted box into a larger overpack container built into the walls of the shuttle. “Martyr’s bones.”
“That’s very interesting Precentor Martial.”
“Can we leave? This ship gives us bad feelings.”
“It seems too empty for how many fighters are onboard. Something about it just seems wrong.”
“There are many things wrong with The Word of Blake. Its emptiness though is quite intentional. You are better off not witnessing what I have. The real monsters live in the darkness.”
Their console beeping confirming the shuttle is cleared for departure. “Monsters?”
“Aye, monsters. Right out your darkest nightmare.”
“Yessir,” the pilot and co-pilots hands raced across the console clicking buttons and switching levers, “beginning departure protocol. I’ll take the belters over any monsters.”
Photon locked himself in the jump seat behind the engineering console. “Captain. If I had the opportunity I would too.”
-
If only he had used a slightly bigger bomb none of this might have happened.
Photon was the one who blew up Thomas and Janos?
-
Photon was the one who blew up Thomas and Janos?
Well Duncan was, but Photon fought on that cousins' side during the last Marik Civil War (and had to marry his very young widow and raise their son, Carlos).
-
Chapter 20 – Gabriel's Trumpets
01/15/3052
Emperor Baldric the Sixth landed his Thunderbird D46 upon one of the many platforms jutting out into Gabriel Station’s repair cage. Three Wings of black and green striped Jovian Imperial Defense Force fighters joined him finding a place beside those from other Belter Confederations (identified by garish stripes but also on an off-white body) and COMSTAR Space Command (bone white with a large Delta facing forward).
Eerie light emerged in columns through vacuum sparkling through intruding ice particles that hovered in place. Lights and abstract markings only known to spacers aided navigation through the vast void that had been hollowed out of this icy planetoid. Two Groups, one of Assault Craft and another of Carriers, and Regiment of Espatiers followed shortly behind landing on the ‘floor’ before shipyard tugs pushed the massive plate that protected the entrance to the cage back into its place. Although they couldn’t hear it the impact could be felt through the superstructure that connected the rings and stabilized the icy rock in place. Every surface was lined with cargo containers and dropships suspended in place by cables, all connected by umbilical to the Station’s habitats.
Baldric powered down the engine and opened the cockpit hatch hanging from the ‘monkey bars’ until his boot’s electromagnets found purchase on the deck-plate. Grapple gun and medical pack hung from his pressure suit as he walked toward the airlock with the remainder of his squadmates.
They cycled the airlock and emerged into a large antechamber standing before Precentor Commodore Beresick of the CSC and high-ranking military leaders from the Inner Sphere’s Belter Confederations, their uniforms unique and stenciled to show their home station or planetoid and differently decorated based on which Cluster they originated from.
Espatiers stood in their ceremonial uniforms wielding a bayonetted rifle evoking their ancestors, Swiss Pikemen, the Swiss and other mountain dwellers such as the Nepalese, Bhutanese, Andean, and other mountain tribes that had later former those known as ‘Belters’ of which Jupiter and its many moons formed their homeland. The Jovian Empire remained the largest of the Belt communities that had somewhat self-organized into a pan-Sphere Stellar Coalition.
The Emperor accepted and returned salutes from those assembled. His salt and pepper hair kept short for station hygiene and military service, skin pale like the others from a lack of sunlight, lean muscles beneath his pilot suit from a lifetime of military and political service. “Am I the only Coalition leader that deigned to answer the Primus’ call?”
Commodore Beresick looked around at the others, “Others intended to come but were waylaid en route. President Madras was ambushed by Clan Mongoose and the Khan has forced the Ender Cluster to withdraw their support by holding him for ransom. The others cannot escape their home empires’ borders for lack of jumpships or due to imperial authorities refusing to grant them permission.
COMSTAR has registered complaints with all the Great Houses over this breach of protocol and infringement on the Coalition’s sovereignty and is seeking an expeditious solution.”
“They seek to keep us on a tight leash then and save themselves from embarrassment.”
“That is always a possibility. COMSTAR is nevertheless grateful for the Jovian Empire’s support.”
Baldric and Alain shook hands, “My soldiers and I stand side by side with yours and those of our Coalition partners. The Order has earned our support for its diligent efforts over the centuries. We have sat out enough wars, someone must finally stand for the Inner Sphere, and if the Great Houses are too timid then others must stand in their place.”
“On that the Precentor Martial and I agree, but enough of these matters. Let me show you around the Station and bring you up to speed on what we have been working on.”
“If what I have heard from the Titan Yardships is true then I look forward to seeing it.”
“COMSTAR never lets anything go to waste.”
Above them through hundreds of meters of reinforced rock and ice, large turrets shifted breaking the rime that had settled on their immense guns each barrel of 'Gabriel's Trumpets' was marked by stenciled text showing which of the derelict Warships’ they had belonged to before being fitted into a haphazard but functional battery.
All aimed upward at Eris and her rings, within their command rooms COMSTAR adepts and Coalition gunners tracked Battlemechs walking along the planetoid’s surface, above which constellation of satellites, clusters of fighters, and larger craft prowled through the inky darkness above a fully operation battle station.
The only thing missing was the enemy, but they were there. Far beyond the orbital path of Eris a R-73 ‘Reporter’ probe made a high-speed pass of the system as part of INTELSTAR’s astrological survey of former SLDF installations in REVIVAL’s invasion path. Its internal survey computer reported the anomalies to their listening post around the ‘lost colony’ of Qualip.
Aboard the Battleship SLS Typhon, Steel Viper Khan Natalie Breen nodded in recognition as her INTELSTAR contacts decoded their probe’s messages. "Send an HPG to Sudeten. Tell Fleet Command we will need more ships.”
-
This is going to be a big one.
I presume the Coalition is assembly of various Belter communities throughout the Inner Sphere.
-
So... a big ComStar (& friends) VS united Clans full-scale fleet battle? This is gonna be fun :evil:
-
02/29/3052
Precentor Commodore Alain Beresick stood in front of the holo-cylinder displaying a stern looking woman with platinum blonde hair and unnaturally blue eyes. Before him were his subordinate commanders in charge of the station’s defense and the heads of Coalition partner forces.
“This is Grand Admiral Olympia Masters of Clan Steel Viper aboard the Quasar Carrier SLS Pit Viper. She has issued a Trial of Possession for Gabriel Station, demanding it be returned to its ‘rightful inheritors’.” Disdainful laugher erupted from some of the Coalition commanders while rue smiles and rude gestures came to COMSTAR’s.
He clicked forward to show the immense fleet that was presently about 3 days at 1g transit (or 1 AU) away from them. “Bidding three Clans worth of Naval Task Forces, Ghost Bear, Steel Viper, and Star Adder. Along with a Potemkin, the SLS Great Bear, which is serving as a defender for the jumpships they have left behind at Eris’ L-one.”
The three types of large Warship and smaller vessels, the largest appeared, “Conveniently for us these Clans use identical Task Forces. This is a Typhon Battleship; basically, a shrunken McKenna, yet it hasn’t lost much in the shrinkage and is to be considered extremely dangerous and a primary target,” a smaller ship appeared, “Quasar Carriers which according to the Pryde files commonly carry a Cluster or roughly fifty fighters and are equivalent in size to our Dantes.”
An even smaller ship was blown up and the trio of each that accompanied the heavier ships was separated to show they travel at optimal weapons distance to one another providing heavy coverage. “These are the Pride class Destroyers. ROM believes them to be highly capable, but they are smaller than our Dantes and without as much throw weight. They do possess many potential nuclear warheads on their missiles though and did use them against the Dragoons so are not to be dismissed. As destroyers they are designed to eliminate large swarms of smaller craft and missiles.
ROM has also stated that with the crippling of the Nova Fox’s Task Force over Atocongo by the Dragoons that Grand Admiral Masters’ Fleet represents most of the Clans’ Warship potential. Only the Hell’s Horses’ Task Force remains unaccounted for but are likely undergoing repairs and maintenance in the Chainelaines or at some deep space yard the Clans have set up.
They have many other ships, but those are doing heavy logistical support for their front-line Galaxies and are thus too valuable to risk in open combat. The fact that the Ghost Bears have brought a Potemkin into this system and thus harm’s way then deployed its escorts shows they are concerned that CSC Ships might break out and confront their support fleet over the Occupation Zone and thus seize the initiative, as was our original plan.
That plan has changed.
Nevertheless, by deploying against us they have removed Precentor Martial Brett’s concerns regarding COMGuards Jumpships and Armored Freighters being attacked by hostile warships.
Admiral Zwick and I know the capabilities of the Dante’s quite well having engaged in live fire exercises, as you all remember.” A bout of sly chuckles was on the lips of some of the more experienced officers remembering the Battle of Ariel around Neptune and the resulting mildly embarrassing aftermath for Beresick’s sister and Zwick’s wife Melissa.
Gabriel station, the ovoid planetoid, that contained a large shipyard within reinforcing ‘rib’ habitats appeared in the holocylinder. “Our battleplan is thus simple but involves intricate coordination between many forces and a lot of deconfliction which I will be responsible for. There’s a lot of metal on station it just needs to be put to optimal use.”
A dozen Dantes had begun to coalesce into a joint Armada from across Eris’ rings joined by escort carriers and assault ships of every configuration. Centered and slightly behind this armada loomed CS Word of Blake, a white whale of a Warship massing a good portion of a hostile Task Force by itself. “Zwick’s fleet will confront the enemy far away using their short range but high-powered guns. They will be aided by the Word of Blake’s guns and fighters.”
Emperor Baldric interrupted, “Alain, where did COMSTAR find the pilots for the almost three hundred fighters onboard that ship?
Even the Pleiades Cluster couldn’t marshal that many in its prime to deploy abroad.
The three Wings I have brought are all that my Empire can muster in such a short time and most of the others were only able to contribute a Group.”
“I understand that The Word of Blake has long been a peculiarity to the Jovian Empire Baldric. However, I don’t typically ask questions of senior leadership and didn’t expect The Word of Blake could even jump nevertheless make it to Odessa.
Perhaps Gregory knows or he too is wise enough to consider it not worth the risk.
Regardless, according to The Master that is how many fighters he has onboard.
Although he can only readily deploy two hundred and sixteen.”
The Belters gasped at the number. Their people had long staffed Delta Branch’s hangers and fighters. Such a large concentration of Fighter power outside their contribution was difficult to grasp and cut deep at their pride of service.
“That still nearly as large as the Capellan Confederation’s entire Aerospace Corps.”
“All on one ship.”
“There’s no way.”
“I suppose if you doubt him, you will soon learn the truth.” Their view shifted toward the ‘Maw,’ the heavily armored entrance to the Shipyard and their Aerospace marshalling area, “our fighters shall fight theirs and any assault dropships deployed against the Fleet. We are mostly operating in an intercept capacity and will assign Areas to Groups.”
Ringing the ‘Maw’ were a highlighted series of Castle Brian bunkers codenamed ‘Trumpets’ armed with repurposed SLDF and RWR Cruiser and Frigate guns arranged in Triple Turrets (3x NAC/10, 2x NAC/25+NAC/20, etc…). “The Trumpets will protect the station’s primary approach from enemy dropships and maybe a few unlucky fighters but are mostly a short-ranged system. Without the hammer of Zwick’s Fleet, the Typhons will obliterate them in short order and they remain vulnerable to missile attack.”
Loosely orbiting the planetoid and staggered in clusters toward the approach were a series of cylindrical satellites equipped with heavy laser weapons, “Thus we have deployed an Excalibur Laser Defense Grid to intercept any missiles or fighters the Trumpets might have difficulty engaging.
Additionally, we expect Grand Admiral Masters will send assault forces onto the surface based on the composition of her dropship armada. Clan Ghost Bear according to the Pryde files has extensive asteroid mining operations in their Homeworlds. They likely have experience with breaching and entering facilities such as ours, if not they are at least determined to break in.
They must attempt to disable the guns to clear a path for a larger force that might subsequently breach Gabriel Station through its external access points.
Nothing short of dedicated HNPPC bombardment for long periods can cut through the Shipyard Plug or burrow into the rock and ice that protects the Station itself.
If for some reason we fail to disable or destroy the Clans’ fleet Gabriel Station can withstand an extended siege until additional aid can arrive from Terra or elsewhere.
Any questions?”
No hands were raised, all eyes were on the light speed delayed feed of the approaching Armada, Grand Admiral Masters’ stern battle-hardened face, and the digital clock ticking down to their arrival around Eris.
“Very well.
A detailed report of your mission will be drawn up by command and distributed so that you can inform your subordinates.
Any questions or thing that I can aid you with feel free to ask.
Rest up and ensure your units are ready for tomorrow.”
“Aye Commodore Beresick.”
-
03/02/3052
Emperor Baldric the Sixth’s Thunderbird ‘floated’ alongside the Dante Frigate CS Revelation, Flagship of COMSTAR Space Command. He breathed deep in his helmet and steadied his nerves mediating on the growing number of large contacts his fighter’s sensors were picking up. His biosigns showed a marked improvement on his side console remembering the presence of is Coalition partners and COMSTAR’s majestic ‘Great White Fleet’ that stood resolutely against these alien invaders.
Behind them the CS Word of Blake, an immense white whale of warship that massed almost as much as one of the three Clan Task Forces arrayed against them opened its hanger bays. Strange fighters ushered forth from its hold, his Warbook failed to place them, but one of them flew within visual range before it accelerated toward the ever-growing Clan Armada. An Armada which had also begun deploying its strike and interceptor craft extending the blob on his RADAR display.
Its frame resembled something that he recognized from OP:CHIEFTAN, Kerensky’s liberation of Terra from Amaris that was one of their communities’ darkest hours. “A Voidseeker? Newly manufactured and enhanced.” Another slightly larger one rocketed away from his fighter, marked as special hazard for the Alamo nuclear bomb it carried on its underbelly. “Two types?”
Baldric’s blood chilled, the CASPAR system of which the original Voidseeker Robotic Fighters were a part was the most formidable defense network in history. It was legendary mostly for Amaris’ forces turning it against the SLDF when they enacted their coup. Defeating it required an incredible sacrifice of brave soldiers.
Something felt wrong about it, the pride, honor, and noble sacrifice of his human soldiers might pass from this world supplanted by the cold heartless logic of robotics. Even Belters couldn’t compete with robotic fighter craft and their potentially larger kin. The Clans even as bizarre and twisted as their culture had become were still human. They had issued a challenge to Admiral Zwick and expected it be honored and for the best ‘man’ win. With drones and actual robots battles would become soulless meat grinders given over to whomever could mass a large force. There was no room for that left in the Inner Sphere, not after what it had experienced.
“Do the Precentors know?” His biosigns peaked slightly, it would be disregarded as pre-battle jitters. The radio chatter had picked up as the enemy came closer, orders issued and given throughout the Chain of Command. Battle was fast approaching, and Baldric’s mind was filled with data concerning his vessel and its partners.
Space fighter combat was all about scarcity, but Belters knew that well. Fuel, ammunition, external ordnance, his own endurance, and those under his command. Everything needed to be taken into consideration in split second and he had no room left for distraction. It had been decades since his last combat experience, against the Canopians during the Andurien Succession Crisis.
He hadn’t lost a step, his left hand typed commands and answered queries from supporting forces. In his right hand the stick shifted downward ‘beneath’ the central line of Dantes and toward CS Limbo. Each frigate had begun separating from one another ‘opening’ the formation so they could turn and present their broadside cannons to their foes while maintaining strong sensor and EWAR synchronicity against the enemy.
A mission clock appeared on his HUD, COMSTAR loved their clocks more than any organization he had ever engaged with. Everything was choreographed to the minute, from the Voidseekers launching forward to draw fire from Clan fighter and escorts and attack the destroyers in ‘Top Cover’ (SLS Audacity and Avarice of Clan Steel Viper plus Melancholy, Envy, and Anticipation of Clan Star Adder) to the go signal Coalition fighters were given to push forward and seek out targets ahead of the Warships which would cover their rear and engage in a cataclysmic test of arms.
Baldric engaged his throttle and rocketed forward separating from the incoming wedge of white Warships. With magnification he saw the Clan Armada enact a similar maneuver with their destroyers launching outward from the central battlegroup to create a ‘compressed’ volume of space within their broadsides giving the smaller ships the ability to fire directly at enemy thrusters and sensors when they turned broadside to present their main armament to their larger ships.
He opened the Battle-Group Command screen and checked the position of all the contacts forwarded to it by the CS Revelation. His mind focused on one ship, SLS Arrogance, a Pride Destroyer of Clan Steel Viper which was taking up a forward position on his plane. It had burned faster than the others (SLS Mirth, Malice, and Mourning of Clan Ghost Bear) and was on course to isolate itself from the overlapping aerospace coverage of its companions.
Before him the COMSTAR Fleet completed their intricate ballet to now present their broadsides to the Typhons who had done the same. Thermal blooms appeared on the Clan Battleships as energy gathered across the almost 60 Heavy Naval PPCs and other guns that were aimed at COMSTAR’s Fleet. Each one capable of obliterating a lighter Fast Attack Dropship like the Avenger in a single hit. Space between the Warships suddenly become very empty, as everything that was fighting in it got out of the way of what was to come.
The Word of Blake lurched forward putting itself at risk to give the shorter ranged guns of the less armored Dantes time to close with their heavier adversaries. Each of its own guns readied themselves to fire at hostiles in every direction.
“All Coalition Forces break off from the main battlegroup.” He designated SLS Arrogance as the principal target for his Belters, “Time to teach these Clanners some humility.”
Each callsign of the Stellar Coalition broke right lining up against a gauntlet of Aerospace Interceptors, Fast Assault Dropships, Nuclear Missiles, and a Destroyers’ own guns.
-
Two days ago, the mood among the civilian castes was anything but joyful as Supply Merchant G-III Tertia completed her shift counting through every one of the emergency lockers located from frame 8 to 14. She floated through the corridor toward the women’s barracks before anchoring herself to her rack before paging through emergency procedures. Pride Destroyer SLS Mirth of the Ursus Battlegroup’s were, like most of the younger Clan Warship crews, untested in combat. There had been no enemy fleet for the Clans to prepare against for the last twenty years and training around Hellgate could only go so far with such an unpopular berth.
There was much mummering within the barracks as Tertia was not the only one looking over emergency procedures. Several questions were asked by the rack mates above and below her as well as their neighbors across the way. Gunnery Crews and Espatiers had practiced and prepared but little attention was paid to the civilian castes by the Warriors. Instead, Technicians who were Wolf War veterans were the ones to teach them while transiting the Exodus Road. No one slept due to the anticipation of what lay ahead although all ate heartily of the last meal before they came in range of the enemy fleet gathering around the former ‘Ruins of Gabriel’ which had proven to be anything but.
General Quarters klaxons blared, and Commander Varshik Lemmons’ voice followed it calling all hands to battle. Warriors might have the guns but Tertia, along with a group of Laborers and Technicians equipped with Space Suits of varying strength took shelter in Damage Control Locker 4 (of 8), responsible for Amidships damage control.
Her breathing was rapid and the O2 meter showed it clearly. Duane, Damage Control Technician Grade-VI, looked toward her his face clear on the other side of the machined wire visor that protected his helmet. “You have to calm down Te. Or you are going to pass out and become Bart’s problem.
I hear it is not the first time he has given you mouth to mouth.”
MedTech Grade-IV Bartraz sat across form visible MedTech markings along with the high-viz stripes that along with their name and ‘SLS Mirth’ had been applied to their white mostly light duty space suits. He and some of the others laughed. “It is a lot harder in a suit ‘uane.”
Tertia chuckled as well as they all listened at rapt attention of updates from Shipboard Operations within the CIC Citadel and Damage Control Command within the Engineering Citadel. There were nearly 400 crew aboard their ship and each one of them was at duty stations, most of them waiting for something to go wrong. A display screen and light map of their compartments glowed near Duane, lights flashed as the Mirth aggressively maneuvered into position between the Typhon Ursus Major and Quasar Ursus Minor. She felt her suit pushing into the belts that held her and everyone else in position as the ship accelerated in strange ways to bring its guns into battery while evading incoming fire.
The display showed the incredible triple broadside of the Typhon battleships that fired toward an immense white ship that had lurched forward of the dozen other COMSTAR Frigates. Due to the flash and particle radiation the screen fuzzed but restarted showing the immense vessel had survived a hellish bombardment from the core element of their task force.
Not only that but it returned fire, hitting four of the six Pride destroyers it targeted. Unable to withstand that much firepower the Mirth’s sisters were forced to flip and present fresh armor. This would degrade their own accuracy, worsening the already deep trouble they found themselves in. Everyone’s guns were saturated with so many targets to service and despite the englobement of COMSTAR’s Fleet no one had fired upon the Frigates that were lining themselves up in a tight mutually defensive formation.
‘Missile Alert’ flashed on the display as a quartet of ‘Strix’ Nuclear Missiles wove through the battlespace from the CS The Word of Blake. They entered ISD Zone 1, incredibly close to the Pride itself before they were detected amongst the clutter. Mirth’s missile shield had been compromised by enemy fighters and assault dropships which occupied the Warship’s principal firepower. Pride Destroyer’s role was to ‘Destroy’ those types of targets, but no one had anticipated such a swarm of hostiles being possible. Instead, the gunships that provided advanced Missile Defense and Sensing were forced to go evasive under the persistent threat of nearly 600 hostile fighters.
Interceptor missiles, Screens, and Flechettes fired by point defense Anti-Missile guns were launched to stop the attack. They were mostly successful, but one missile made it through. No sooner had Commander Lemmons said over the intercom, “Brace for impact” then it arrived.
A White Shark missile with a 50 Kiloton (Clan reporting name ‘Strix,’ IS ‘Santa Ana’) Nuclear Warhead detonated at close range. The explosion immediately flashed tons of armor away and driving the Pride into an uncontrolled spin as its armor vaporized and cooled. Its structure shook under the incredibly assault which along with the sudden acceleration threw ‘Number 4 Crew’ against their restraints.
Tertia woke to her helmet whistling and head hurting more than her leave after Hellgate Naval Academy. Duane’s console was bright red, and the display had shattered creating a strange prismatic effect as its fine shrapnel floated in the room. She reached for the release and found it jammed.
Bartraz floated toward her, “Hold on te. I need to check your eyes,” lifting the external face shield to point a penlight at her eyes, “Blue and beautiful as usual. No sign of damage.”
She reached down and slapped a patch from her front pocket over the damaged portion of her helmet. The whistling stopped although it would require so much paper to replace that portion. “You say the nicest things. How about next time we couple I be the free floater?”
“You hit your head pretty hard and are talking crazy, but you will be fine.”
He reached into the toolbox secured beneath her legs to remove the belt slicer on the outside. “I will cut you free,” he looked over to her rack mate, “Alice has a neck injury. I locked her down, but we cannot move her to MedBay while fighting. I need to keep her under observation and hope the Commander doesn’t do any sudden and intense maneuvers.” Bartraz handed her the toolbox, “Everyone else is outside helping Duane and the Techs.”
She cycled the door and looked back toward Alice and Bart who had secured himself once more. Tertia attached the toolbox’s clips to her suit’s harness and another to the ceiling rails climbing them like a jungle gym as she passed through compartments toward the stern. Sharp ferro-aluminum shards shaken loose from the impact floated in the corridor, scary but mostly unable to damage pipes and wires behind grates.
Her eyes couldn’t believe what she saw as she approached the damage site, A twenty meter diameter hole had been excavated into the armor completely obliterating the quad Medium NPPC turret and its crew which had once been at this location. Hargel, coolant water, and fuel oozed from the rupture site but there was no chance even the Clans’ miracle material could span this gap.
Outside the stars shifted as the ship moved to position less damaged areas away from the main attack. Hostile fighters cleared their position flipping on their long axis to take a parting shot that forced them to take cover before its velocity carried it far away from them. For once Tertia was happy that she hadn’t had another drink of water several hours ago even if it would be captured in the absorbent layers below. Her breathing hastened once more as she attached herself to the safety grid that the Techs had set up which would keep them close if the ship’s acceleration would throw them out. She looked out toward where the enemy fighter redirected itself and reduced its overpass velocity. “Duane, how fast can we patch this and get back inside?”
He passed her the LGB-58R “Engineer’s Paint Gun” in his hand along with the reservoir of gas and fluid. Once she accepted it, he removed a folding metal backed polymer patch that wouldn’t withstand damage but could keep pressure and people inside. “A lot faster if you glued more and talked less.”
OOC Nuke Reporting Names
Yield | IS | Clan
0.5kt | 'Davy Crockett' | 'Dauntless'
1kt (EFP or EMP, found in the Anti-Ship or ASEW Missile) | 'Sideslip' | 'Harpy'
5kt | 'Alamo' | 'Athos'
50kt | 'Santa Ana' | 'Strix'
500kt | 'Peacemaker' | 'Phoenix'
3Mt (the Asset Management Weapon) | 'Ashcan' | 'Ragnarök'
-
I see that the asset management is serious business in the future.
As a supply merchant, does that mean that she works in ship's dupply depot, with damage control as her secondary task (everybody is damage control on warship)?
-
The AMW was last used to handle the Scorpion plague so there might be some left over from that dark time that made it down the Exodus Road
To Terria's grade yes to both.
-
The Coalition Task Force moved in a close pyramidal formation overlapping the jamming pods and anti-missile systems of each ship with one another. Fighter and Interceptors were forward, Gunships and Bombers lagged slightly behind, followed by a flotilla of Assault Dropships. Baldric monitored his sensors from the lead position of the bombers.
SLS Arrogance had established its own sphere of control rather than participate in the englobement of COMSTAR Space Command’s Fleet. Wisely that had saved it from the combined CSC Fleet’s guns and fighters including those deployed by CS The Word of Blake which had along with the nose and stern guns of the Dantes already severely damaged 5 of the 8 Destroyers they were targeting. The immense ship was however suffering under a hellish bombardment from the Typhon Battleships each of whom could have easily destroyed one of the lighter Dantes.
Baldric the Sixth’s sensors detected that the Arrogance’s escorting ships and fighters were being recalled from their taskings. They were beginning to approach Arrogance’s effective missile range. Viper gunships and dropships reconfiguring themselves to present a barrier to incoming hostiles just its outside capital weapon range. Clocks upon clocks, Baldric checked the watch on his suit, then a dozen different gauges on his console. “Ten Minutes to Target. All Callsigns open formation.
Accelerate Two for Two.
Spread that shield thin then punch through.”
He locked in the burn as Tomahawk and Hammerhead fighters in front of him did the same while opening the formation. His mixed bomber Group of Rapiers and Thunderbirds spread out slightly to give themselves a better chance of evading incoming fire. Although his fighter was unaffected it registered that the gunships and dropships were directionally jamming hostiles throughout the electromagnetic spectrum. Despite the electronic fog enshrouding them the enemy was attempting to cut through it. Their own Comms lost some fidelity and the BattleNet saw a momentary disruption before the Achilles’ command ship which resembled a shrunken version of the much larger Pride Destroyer meshed it together again.
“Gunships, break up that formation with Caltrops.”
Behind and Above him Small Gunships flipped over releasing clouds of spherical bomblets (Space Mines, designation ‘Caltrop’ for the little thrusters on them) toward the escorting dropships. The cloud spread out to form an offensive field of explosives as their formations began to close at high relative velocity to one another.
He watched the timer count down as Interceptor missiles lanced forth from Imaoka Missile Ships and the Arrogance. They slipped through the incoming minefield but were eliminated as clouds of bullets streamed forth from the Gunships. Debris from the missile clattered off the armored canopy of his Thunderbird cockpit capsule.
Viper fighters were forming up behind them from the main battlespace, lining up for a rear attack on his formation. He double-checked the integrity and sensors of his trio of Sideslip ASMs because things were about to get jerky. “Assault Ships to the Tilt.
Take out those incoming fighters before they are firing down our engine cones.”
Behind him the assault dropships vectored their thrusters to flip and burn separating from the formation to engage the Vipers. Clocks upon Clocks, the Vipers weren’t going to blink and maintained the mesh despite the incoming mines. More Interceptor missiles came toward them but were jammed and chewed up by the Gunships. “Six minutes to intercept.
All ships go Evasive, our Target is the Warship. Wait for the first sorties’ Excites before firing. We are only going to get one shot at this at full power.
Fighter Groups split to cloud commands and aim for aft thrusters.
Bombers and Gunships follow me. We are going for a gut shot.”
Coalition mines detonated across the Viper escorts’ prows. Their fighters and gunships ‘drunk walked’ or executed other advanced evasive maneuvers meant to ruin enemy firing solutions. A few lucky hits landed but there were to many Fighters, piloted by excellent pilots, moving too quickly, to engage them all. The Vipers had taken the worse of the exchange from the Caltrops which shattered some of the ship’s thick armor plate but failed to damage anything critical.
Baldric whispered to himself, “That is why we take two squads per assault ship, minimum.”
Beyond them Baldric’s knuckles were white on the stick and his eyes were glued to the different color ‘Integrated Space Defense’ shells. He kept an eye on the scope monitoring the movements of his squad mates. Even in an open formation they were moving fast and needed to make big adjustments to avoid incoming fire. This Pride Destroyer was meant to obliterate masses of small targets and it might even have worked if COMSTAR hadn’t brought so many well-armed friends.
The full sensor power of the Arrogance temporarily scrambled their comms and interfered with the lower powered sensor suites of the fighters. Its frontal array aimed toward them firing forth more missiles and deadly lances of energy. A Hammerhead fighter disappeared as a quartet of lasers cut straight through it, bisected portions grotesquely peeled away from each other before falling into the void.
A Killer Whale missile’s terminal phase passed right over his wing before punching into one of the EO-78 Gunships behind him despite the AMS’ guns and its own evasive maneuvers. Baldric spared himself a moment to look behind and see the glowing spot on its armor plate. “Good thing it wasn’t nuclear.”
SLS Arrogance grew larger in his viewscreen, as did the threat, a flight of Manta Ray missiles streaked into one of the bombers turning it into confetti that bounced off the Arrogance’s fuselage. A whole squadron of fighters disappeared, spreading the fighters out in a cloud had just given the Warship more targets, Baldric lamented the tactical error.
Their Gunships tuned the complete energy of their active probes and EWAR suites onto a narrow cone illuminating the Warship so that missiles could be fired into it. Even the advanced EWAR suite onboard was unable to suppress two Squadrons of Gunships lighting them up.
“All callsigns halt evasive maneuvers, form up for a strike run. Missiles hot.”
“Excite.” (Anti-Ship Electronic Warfare Missile)
“Sideslip.” (Anti-Ship Missile)
“Fox One.” (Artemis LRMs)
“Rifle.” (Thunderbolts)
“Fox Three.” (Anti-Air Arrows)
Coalition missiles streaked outward toward the target; the one kiloton nuclear warhead of the Sideslips detonated near the Warship creating an Explosively Formed Penetrator that punched deep into the vulnerable flanks of the Warship and into critical systems. ASEW Magnums channeled the blast of a similar warhead differently, generating a direction EMP that overloaded the multitude of sensors lining the hull. Another squadron of Fighters disappeared under the withering firepower of the Arrogance’s weapons.
Baldric’s lasers and missiles joined those of the other Coalition forces firing at the Warship as well as kinetic “Iron,” and Nuclear “Jericho” bombs hurled into the ship. Its return fire was poorly aimed, embarrassingly so. Despite being at close range the Arrogance’s tracking systems were scrambled by the EMP and needed to reboot so their gunners were operating on inferior backup sights.
The Belters enjoyed a moment of jubilation as they saw the combined effort of their assault on the Destroyer. It was their one shot though, calls for assistance came in from their assault dropships now caught between the Arrogance, its escorts, and Viper fighters.
“All callsigns disengage from the Arrogance. Stay evasive, burn for our boys.”
His thrusters burned parallel to the Warship as it rebooted its weapons and sensors before launching a salvo of missiles that were easily handled by their AMS and ECM. The Imperial Jovian Defense Force logo loomed large on his Heavy Fighter, now freed from the shackles of his Anti-Ship burden.
“We showed them well enough for now.”
Admiral Beresick watched the screens as Zwick’s Fleet did exceptionally well compared to their predictions thanks to the timely arrival of The Word of Blake which almost doubled their fighter count. “Admiral, we have an approaching attack force hiding among the ring.”
A Fleet of Missile Ships and Combat Transports separated from the ring debris that they had concealed themselves within. “As anticipated.” He moved his hands in the holo-chamber which were interpreted by the computer which gave commands to the EXCALIBUR Laser Defense Grid. It began to reconfigure itself interposing the lasers between the attackers, Gabriel, and its Trumpets. Meanwhile, Gabriels Trumpets came alive following the tracking data sent to it by a constellation of other sensors.
“I want all Espatier and XCT Corps on standby to repel Elemental Assault. Colonel Vedric you are in command, but I shall be the Conductor.”
Colonel Dustin Vedric of PESA (Pleaides Équipes de Sécurité Aérospatiales) donned the helmet of his dun colored Marine Combat Suit covering scars and a cybernetic eye he earned fighting pirates in the Badlands during the most recent Purge of Pirate’s Haven in 3030. He looked over the almost two Regiments of PESA, (dark red and white) B(roccli) ESA, and (gold and green) T(rznadel) ESA Espatiers under his command that were waiting in the assembly area.
“You heard the Admiral.”
The others readied their own laser rifles, particle beams, rockets, and grenades of various makes, models, and powers. They formed up behind the Colonel and marched onward to their individual positions.
“I’ve never killed a Giant before,” He readied the Mauser 1200 which felt light with a combat exoskeleton assisting him, “They should be easy targets.”
-
Target that shoots back is not an easy target.
-
EXCALIBUR Laser Satellites vaporized missiles out of the Battlespace but the lightly armored grid was dismantled by the weapons of the Clan Task Force’s transports. Gabriel’s Trumpets skewed toward them before a trio of great and silent concussions erupted from the turrets. Even dampened by powerful hydraulic rams the pressure wave shattered ice and sent dust or other particles flying away from the bunker as the resurrected guns of SLS Rhodan fired once more in anger disintegrating the lead Sassanid spherical dropship.
All of Gabriel’s Trumpets had originated from the ships of Task Force Leonidas, victims of the suicidal assault against Terra’s Caspar SDS ordered by Aleksandr Kerensky, the Clan’s Great Father, himself. Guns from SLS Hammerstrike, Europa, Chieftain, and Gettysburg fired as well. Each one just as devastating to its target as the Rhodan. Clan assault ships broke off and went evasive clearly having underestimated the Trumpets and their crews drawn from Castle Dieron, COMSTAR’s stronghold within the Draconis Combine and blueprint for Gabriel’s defenses.
Phoenix equipped Killer Whales were launched in retaliation by Huntsman Arsenal Ships (Cargomaster PWS) from their trio of AR-10 launch tubes. The freighter’s massive, automated cargo bays were turned into instruments of destruction with the full range of the Clan’s Nuclear Arsenal or any other missile in inventory and deep magazines.
A 500-kiloton warhead impacted the Brian Bunker but did not silence the guns as they rose once more to fire across the red-hot slag that fell from the bunker as its Warship grade armor melted from the heat of the explosion. Few of the Huntsmans missiles could get past the defenses that remained. Entire salvos of the cataclysmically powerful but limited missiles and the combined efforts of Aerospace Bombers and Transport’s guns were required to silence Rhodan and open a hole in Gabriel Station’s defenses.
Colonel Vedric felt the tremor as the first Phoenix Warhead detonated on Rhodan’s bunker ordering his men into the breach. The ESAs and XCT Troops arrived from their assembly zones carried along by the Shipyard’s cableway and rails. Each Trumpet bunker had a large shaft uniting the tunnels above that joined them together and formed the foundation of the ‘Maw’ with the ring habitats that formed Gabriel’s ‘ribs’ protecting and servicing the Shipyard within.
Ammunition, fuel, spare parts, and vehicles had all been delivered and stockpiled into the ‘Ribs’ from across the Inner Sphere. All meant to supply Precentor Martial Photon Brett-Marik’s COMGUARDs in their campaign against the Clans. Losing Gabriel Station could mean losing the war or at least the initiative as the Clans would acquire these supplies, a shipyard, and a redoubt that not even the CSC could breach. The Combined Forces couldn’t allow that to happen and if the fight transitioned into CQB within the habitats corridors it would be even more difficult to mass forces against the invaders.
‘Deep and Tall’ defensive works were built up across the circumference and depth of the tunnel. Internal BattleNet reports from surface sensors revealed the strength of the Assault Force. Hull Defense Tanks, occasionally used by Warships to provide additional protection from Aerospace Fighters were also primary combatants for moon engagements. They supported hundreds of Ghost Bear Elementals, smaller Star Adder Armored Infantry, and Steel Viper Espatiers equipped similarly to the ESAs.
Two Rail Shunts towing a flatbed from the Shipyard had been reinforced with Palisade portable barriers and mounted with the heaviest and most power/crew intensive of the support weapons. Beside the track Espatiers used gunpowder bolt guns to drive pitons and bolts to secure more barriers throughout the volume as well as spooling out parallel cables carried by the shunts that would hasten and arrest their movement in microgravity to ‘lower’ positions and cover. The surface gun turrets, carrying the same weapons as COMSTAR's Common Weapons Carrier, and dense rubble of the shattered bunker ‘above’ gave them time to prepare an elaborate defense in depth until all that remained was the wait.
Star Captain Hank Cannon of the 148th Special Orbital Assault Group of Clan Star Adder stood spinward from the ruins of Rhodan bunker. It was now a slagheap of Warship grade armor that while silenced could not be accessed with the regular weapons at his disposal. The Luxor class Cruiser SLS Rhodan, had served with distinction in the Great Father’s fleet and its crew had given their lives to save those of his ancestors. Instead of creating a monument to their heroism COMSTAR had committed a great heresy by forcing the Clans to construct its second tomb.
His Cluster stood before a smaller access port, a thick metal door large enough to allow a battlemech entry and protect from stray impacts. They only needed enough space to fit the Ghost Bear Elementals. Hachiman tanks would be little help within tunnels and instead kept the space around them clear of fighters, as was their usual role. Galaxy Commander Eric Vong loomed over the shoulder of his Echo Force Recon Armor within the Ghost Bear’s Space Adapted Elemental Suit (SAES). “How much longer is this going to take Star Captain?”
Hank stood over the open access port of an Arrow IV missile that had been delivered along with a small crew of Technicians in PA(L) vacuum suits via Omnifighter from the Huntsman Arsenal Ship SLS Valley of Kings. His hands and tools moved across the conical device at its front unscrewing components and detaching power cables. “There is no standard protocol for using a Dauntless Warhead as a breaching charge and we have depleted our inventory of Strix Missiles fighting enemy Warships, Galaxy Commander.”
“Will it work?”
The Star Captain shrugged although it was less visible from beneath his armor. “It is all that we have unless you want to burn out your lasers and waste time trying to cut through it. Using an Athos or larger warhead would collapse the tunnel according to Sanjiv and the other Armaments Scientists.”
Behind him the Technicians completed the gain apparatus’ assembly. Nuclear shaped charges and pumped lasers were still a manner of research among the Armaments Division. This bespoke creation had been pulled from the Scientist’s bench and should direct the half-kiloton warhead’s energy to generate a short lived but intense laser capable of cutting through even a Typhon’s plating, if static and hours of preparation were conducted.
Star Captain Cannon and Chief Scientist Sanjiv were in constant communication as his Technicians assembled the device. As a Warrior with some technical training Hank pulled the Warhead out of the missile and placed it into the cradle after arming it in ‘directional’ mode. “Star Captain, have the preparations been completed?”
He looked over to the Chief Technician across from the device which had been screwed in a precisely measured twelve meters from the door. “Aye Chief.”
“Excellent, I look forward to a report detailing its efficacy.”
“If I live through its detonation and our storming of the station, I will write it.”
“My calculations are impeccable.”
“Reality sometimes disagrees with even the most precise calculations Scientist.”
There was a short pause, “You and Galaxy Commander Vong have control. Get to a safe position then light it up.”
The few Assault Force members brave enough to be in proximity to an open nuclear weapon withdrew to the safety of a canyon trailing behind a cable and detonator. Command codes were input and the ground shook beneath them sending a rain of icy stones down onto their helmets. Hank was first on location and saw the large round hole cut into it by millisecond pulses of coherent X-rays. Radiation was within norms. The metal was still red hot slowly losing energy via blackbody emissions. Eric stood just beside him looking down at the hole which he could only enter at a crawl in his armor. “This entryway is to small. Tell that scientist his calculations were incorrect.”
“Sanjiv said it was large enough for an Elemental to enter, Galaxy Commander, he did not say they could do so standing.
Of course, I could go in first and open the door for you.”
Eric Vong paused and peered deep into the smaller Warrior’s visor then flexed his knees, as the Galaxy Commander he was supposed to be lead the fight. “I will allow it.”
-
Into the breach,
into the bloodbath
-
Hot Springs, Clan Occupation Zone 04/17/3052
Seven Stars, a casino that was a former member of the Malthus Gaming Unlimited group (Malthus’ name had been scratched out from all the public plaques and removed from the Merchant paperwork), rose regally from the rise overlooking the small town of the same name. It had hosted many events over its nearly fifty years of existence, but this was unlike any before and not just because there were black-clad soft-shell Elementals patrolling its corridors, as well as tanks plus a mobile HPG parked outside. Banners bearing the Clan’s blood red Daggerstar cut down from the ceiling pointing toward the brightly colored carpet and darkened slot machines. Staff tended to their strange guests, who had requested slightly more seafood than was usual for such a gathering, under the careful management of Merchants and well-dressed men with calloused knuckles and designer labels.
The doors to Paradise Stage were protected by velvet rope, the ornate, crossed pikes and Gauss SMGs of Espatiers and hard-shell Elementals from the Ebon Keshik.
A Stout Bailiff stood before the arena seated audience, “All rise for Kael Pershaw, Loremaster of the Clans.”
All rose as Kael Pershaw worked his way across the stage on his cane, the same stage that had hosted Cabarets, showgirls, and intimate concerts with aged Pop Stars with some staying power. The stage lighting was dimmed but all who looked upon saw a shadow of a man beneath all the machinery meant to keep him alive despite it constantly trying to kill itself due to his genetic condition. He took his place behind the bench then slammed a gavel it down and signaling that all should return sitting except the Inquisitors that were arrayed before him facing the crowd.
“I call this Board of Inquiry to order.
All shall remember that this investigation is not meant to assign blame but find the truth then learn from it.
The ilKhan has summoned me from Harris Station for this purpose and I shall fulfill his orders.
Inquisitors you have the floor.”
Scribes sat to the side behind their stenography machines as the Inquisitors, the Clan’s equivalent of a Judge Advocate General though working for the bloodhouses, introduced themselves.
“I summon our first witness, Star Captain Hank Cannon, of the One Hundred Forty-Eighth Special Orbital Assault Group ‘SOAG’ of Clan Star Adder.”
Hank Cannon stood up and walked to the stand as a holoprojector came alive displaying Gabriel Station above Eris in the Odessa System. His body still showed burns but most of them were covered by his dress uniform. “Star Captain, you are the only blood-named, and highest-ranking officer to have survived from the Gabriel Assault Force, are you not?”
“I am Inquisitor Kamau. I was eighth in command of the unit.”
“We have all read your report but want to hear from you what happened during that mission.”
“It was a slaughter; our Mechs were destroyed by Hammerstrike and Europa’s guns, our first in command to Rhodan’s, and we were sent into combat without proper recon, intelligence, and resupply.”
“It is difficult to discern what lies beneath a moon’s surface Star Captain, there was no way we could have expected or anticipated what lie beneath the surface. Is that understood?”
"Aff, the loss of almost all of Grand Admiral Masters battlegroup and her suicide was not expected either.
Even if the COMSTAR fleet was severely damaged, they are right next to the place that shall repair them.
The whole operation was flawed from the start. We severely underestimated COMSTAR’s resolve, as Hell Horses can attest to, as they still have not managed to dislodge Precentor-Martial Photon Brett-Marik's Crusaders from Pandora.”
An Inquisitor from the Hell's Horses snapped up, “Are you calling the Khans and ilKhan Showers fools or our Touman weak?”
Hank looked down slightly, “No Inquisitor, but we are struggling here. I am a simple Warrior. I follow the orders of my senior officers, but this is not the war we had anticipated nor trained for. The enemy is as prepared as we anticipated but COMSTAR's refusal to abide by our authority has hampered our progress. Now with the FedSuns and Draconis Combine at a peace conference it could be only a matter of time until we cannot make any progress.”
Inquisitor Kamau, “What happened in those tunnels Star Captain?”
“The enemy had trapped them and prepared their defenses while we utilized an experimental device to cut open an exterior door. This process took two hours all while the Fleets were fighting and our Hachiman HDTs kept space clear of hostiles.”
A mockup of the device was brought forward courtesy of one Sanjiv’s Technicians and placed between the Inquisitor’s seating area and Kael Pershaw. “It is a nuclear pumped laser which needed to be utilized as we had exhausted our supply of Strix Anti-Ship missiles and had no mech-grade lasers to cut through the door.”
He took a drink from the small bottle of water on the podium, “After entering the facility I asked Galaxy Commander Vong, then in command, if it was wise to progress without topping off our life support and thruster fuel.”
“Why did you not ask this beforehand?”
“I was preoccupied assembling the apparatus which required removing a Dauntless Warhead from its missile and lost track of time.”
“A potentially lethal error for a SOAG trooper.”
“That is why I suggested we resupply and check in with HQ before proceeding, but Vong ordered the Assault Group through and right into the first trap.
The enemy had deployed directional anti-personnel mines arrayed in such a way that it created a cone of shrapnel and ball bearings that severely injured many of our lighter equipped personnel who needed to be evacuated as all injuries in microgravity are critical. Casualties and their tenders reduced our assault force’s size.”
“What did you do next?”
“My unit was equipped with mine-clearing devices and improved sensors so we were put on point and disabled several other similar traps before they could be triggered during our march through the tunnels.”
“How long was this march?”
“Three kilometers, underground, in the darkness, within twenty-three-meter diameter tunnels which had parallel vertical rails laid into them.”
“There are no rails in the original plans. Quiff?”
“Aff, COMSTAR must have added them while constructing the bunkers as they were still in perfect condition.”
“What happened next?”
“We located a depression that led to one of the tunnels that connects Gabriel Station with the outer ring.”
The display illuminated the tunnels which were located half-way between each of the Monolithic Gun Towers.
“Vong ordered us ‘down’ into the tunnel and that is where we encountered the enemy and their prepared defense. Hostiles shone bright lights and heat emitters at us which blinded us.
The enemy engaged us at range with heavy laser and PPC systems along with Armored Infantry equipped with SRMs from two trains that had been shifted into our way. Closer in we came under fire by mini-rockets and smaller infantry support weapons. The ESAs hid behind the lights and beneath these shields presenting an incredibly difficult target to hit.”
A crescent shaped shield, deformed by damage, and still possessing the Kukri sheathed within its folds was added to the table. It bore the Heraldry of the T-ESA, a Belter Confederation within Magistracy of Canopus space. Alongside it was a gyro-slug rifle, heavy revolver, and bayonet pulled from the harness of a dead man. An etching on the back was presented in photo 'Ḕ tā̀n ḕ epì tâs' (Come back with your shield, or on it).
“Surely even our Elementals could overcome such a formidable infantry defense by themselves Quiaff?”
“If they were by themselves perhaps but the Trinary or more of Armored Infantry were constantly rearmed. It was like facing an SRM carrier at close range and as more of our troops deployed and the enemy gave way, they…”
Star Captain Cannon paused for a moment. His mind flashing back to the moment he saw a quad barreled SPAAG, meant to shred Aerospace fighters, rise above the train body while in close combat with a hostile Espatier. Flashes of light illuminated the floating forms of dead men. “Two Pazuzus from the Jovian Empire deployed from a flatbed on the opposite side of the train...
They fired into our ranks cutting down dozens of men with Flak and Flechette shells.
Starting with those in the back.”
He bowed his head slightly, "We never stood a chance."
-
Did Clans make Dark Nebula fleet base operational?
His mind flashing back to the moment he saw a quad barreled SPAAG
So they goaded them to push all the way into killzone, taking casualties doing it, then sprung the trap, destroying almost entire deployed force. This would be equivalent of pushing down a railway tunnel in WWII, against determined resistance, coming into hand grenade range and then ze Germans unveil the Flak Vierling. And I don't think Pazuzu's were limited in their rate of fire by 20 round mags when exorcising the Clanners from the tunnels.
Photon Brett-Marik's Crusaders
Blake wills it!
-
That hearing was a nice way to wrap up the action and provide a glimpse of its fallout. I really admire your efficient (for lack of a better term) writing style. You show us enough of the planning, action an politics to get a feeling for it is going on but don't spell out every little detail. All the while providing well thought out world building en passant.
-
That hearing was a nice way to wrap up the action and provide a glimpse of its fallout. I really admire your efficient (for lack of a better term) writing style. You show us enough of the planning, action an politics to get a feeling for it is going on but don't spell out every little detail. All the while providing well thought out world building en passant.
I appreciate that, all of the action in the previous chapters is forwarding the whole story of a clash of civilizations. The fallout of which is just as if not more damaging. It took three attempts before I was like, you know what, its better to see what happened through another's eyes than the narrator's.
Interlude – Battle Damage Assessment
03/04/3052
SLS McKenna’s Pride, its battlegroup, and auxiliary vessels floated within Sudeten’s Zenith Jump Point. ilKhan Leo Showers gripped the railing so hard even his hands began to hurt, the low-rez HPG video from the Great Bear showed the Typhons, HIS Battleships, getting obliterated by the guns of a numerically superior COMSTAR Fleet. Olympia’s Typhons had engaged and destroyed an immense whale of a ship, CS The Word of Blake, with all hands. McKenna’s battle-computer recognized it as the SLS Enterprise, a boondoggle of an SLDF ship, that had somehow come from the distant past to harm the Clans’ future. If it was not for that ship her Battleships would have wiped out COMSTAR’s fleet and seized or at least besieged Gabriel Station. Instead, The Word of Blake and Gregory Zwick’s Dantes had become a blunt wedge driven right into his ambitions that had cost them 5 of the 12 ships and some damage but it would take a decade or more to replace what the Clans had lost from the assault group and fleet action.
Once the core combatants were destroyed unit cohesion broke down, Quasars recalled their fighters and deployed SAR, destroyers now lacking fighter cover were chased down by fighters and attack craft until they were abandoned, destroyed, or incapacitated. Finally, the film ended with the scuttling, by internal explosion of an Athos bomb in lay down mode, of SLS Anticipation and the evacuation of many lifeboats via small craft to the Great Bear and its charges. At the end a video message from Star Admiral Natalie Ivankova of the Great Bear told him that Grand Admiral Olympia Masters had committed suicide as her surkairede for such a failure.
Leo Showers roared and slammed his fist on the table denting the metal and alarming the civilians around him in the comms room. “Olympia, give me back my battleships!”
The holotank darkened as did the very air around him, half the Clan’s combat fleet wiped out some with all hands, hundreds of casualties that would take years to replace gone, plus the albeit temporary loss of the Anne Rosse and damage to her battlegroup over Atocongo by the Dragoons and their allies. His mighty Clan Fleet was now merely on parity with those of the Dragoons and COMSTAR and unlike them REVIVAL’s logistics were reliant on protecting those ships. With a single engagement some of his initiative had to be ceded to his adversary slowing down LEAPFROG’s already excruciatingly slow progress.
Leo pulled up the present star map patched together via HPG broadcasts and couriers showing progress and ship locations from Harris Station a midway point on the Exodus Road through the Chainelaines to the front lines near Pandora along with time displays to their present location. Pandora and the worlds around it blinked hot red after Precentor Martial Photon Brett-Marik of the COMGuards had challenged Khan Malavai Fletcher’s Hell’s Horses, personally insulting him by calling him ‘an old mare’ in the process, and coming up with creative, colorful, cutting, and obscene remarks about their Clan whipping them into a furor like he had never seen before. He didn’t know whether Photon was brave or stupid, but Malavai and his Clan's fury had provoked a response as the Horses, originally meant to be the reserve for LEAPFROG, redeployed against the COMGuards, throwing timetables off, and drawing logistics and support assets out of position in the process.
His eyes focused on the map, the AMC and Dragoons held firm around Arc-Royal and had probably reoccupied Atocongo after the Battlegroups meant to goad their warships out had withdrawn after a disastrous showing. The Commonwealth military was putting up firmer local resistance elsewhere against the raids being conducted by the Mongoose and Nova Fox Toumans. Star Adder, Ghost Bear, and Steel Viper Galaxies were still organizing for an assault on Donegal and other Core Worlds but were waiting for progress reports from the exterior and additional reconnaissance.
Battlegroup Nova Fox, centered on the damaged Anne Rosse, was en route to Camelot Station in the Dark Nebula for extensive repairs that would likely take months. Battlegroup Hell’s Horses was patrolling the Chainelaines from their base around Syrstart and it would remain there no matter how much Malavai wanted it to be otherwise. The Invasion Plan and Fleet Assets would need to be reorganized and adjusted based on the new more defensive fleet posture he would need to take. For that he needed assistance and signaled to his Scribe assistant, “Summon Kael Pershaw from Harris via HPG, tell him to lead a Board of Inquiry into our recent failures. Additionally, I wish to consult with the Naval Adjutant and Quartermaster General. Find them and tell them to meet me with haste.”
The young man hastened away to the HPG Transmission room then Adjutant’s Quarters. Almost all of REVIVAL could be run from this Flagship McKenna and so long as everyone followed orders instead of their emotions REVIVAL might still be salvaged.
Leo’s eyes caught Somerset, a planet where multiple streams of ships converged. Captured early during REVIVAL, the planet, its short layover time, accommodating leadership, and an ample supply of POW labor was increasingly making it a crucial waystation for supplies coming from the Chainelaines leading to a large investment in infrastructure upon the world by the Merchant Caste. He should put a garrison on it but there was a greater need for troops on the front line or upon more rebellious worlds. Somerset despite its POW camps had been calm, too calm compared to other occupied worlds that had at least passively opposed the Clans until Occupation Troops were ordered to get them to comply.
His focus had triggered the automatic inquiry system showing the relevant details of the world he was looking at. Leadership, demographics, geographics, history, every bit of data accumulated over centuries of settlement since the Rim World’s Republic.
A young man appeared in the frame, tall, lean, handsome, a thoroughbred Warrior worthy of the Clans. Adam Steiner, Duke of Somerset.
The ilKhan puzzled over this fellow Warrior staring deep into the image’s eyes.
Could he trust this Adam Steiner and his supposed hospitality with the keys to their success?
He might need to summon him,
or pay him a visit in person to decide.
-
Chapter 21 – Unwelcome Guests
03/13/3052 | Holly Field, Somerset
Snow had melted, spring rains arrived, green grass, flowers, and tree buds were growing upon Holly Field Haus. Lord Commandant/Star Commander Adam Steiner, Duke of Somerset, walked through his mother’s house alone. The only sound that of his bootsteps as he ascended the stairs to his office. His mother’s mansion had taken upon a grim character over the winter and not just because there were no children playing on grounds this Saturday. Now it was strung with concertina wire or patrolled by armored cars. No longer did his staff greet him as the family he considered them to be or sought him out for any but the most pressing inquires.
He opened his office window letting in the spring wind carrying the smell of flowers and felt the fading bruise on his chest where an armored vest had saved his life. His mother’s beautiful grounds had been churned up, transformed into ugly fortifications after an attempt on his life by resistance fighters last month. They had like those he had just witnessed hanged for the deaths of ten Constables during an escape attempt died with the words of his Stepfather, the Rasalhague Poet-Rebel, on their lips.
A folded note in Xenia’s neat feminine script accompanied the electric kettle that roiled on his desk, He read it as his afternoon tea steeped. “A big surprise with three exclamation points. Will be back by four. Your lunch is in the cooler.”
Adam looked over to the cooler beside him, he had no appetite and hadn’t since Rachel left him to live with her sister in Taunton and Xenia was assigned to replace her. This was not aided by Raffael, Holly Field Haus’ chef, who had ceased to spice his food as vibrantly or express his creativity like before unless they were entertaining as passive protest to ‘The Commandant.’
‘The Commandant’ had no time to punish those he considered friends. He could bear their scorn and was only assuaged that his, likely now late, brother, stepfather, and mother could not see what he had been forced to become. The mask increasingly gave the man no other choice but to lean ever more into the Lyran Commonwealth’s original sin and Adam was frightened by how easily he slipped. On his orders pastoral Somerset and its enviable arcadian environment was becoming twisted into a police state employing serfs in industrial combines to forward Clan war plans.
Almost every page of those neatly organized papers piled on his desk was related to these plans and stamped with INTER-LOGI’s gear logo. The merchant caste had invested heavily into his world under the supervision of Rhonda. A woman whom Adam had mistaken as guileless but increasingly proved otherwise as she pursued advantage of her own as ‘The Commandant’ became increasingly isolated.
Somerset’s underinvested transport infrastructure now densely connecting formerly placid towns in its hinterlands with intermodal hubs, highways, railroads, river quays, and airports. Small factories, offices, and other Merchant concerns sprung up wherever they could be built, as fast as they could be built, wherever they could find or assign enough people to staff them. Where there weren’t enough locals more, typically troublesome, civilians were transported from occupied worlds. Many of these civilians were suspected resistance fighters and some were involved in his near assassination.
Manpower came in, war materiel went out, and each week Somerset received more dropships and jumpships than it had in six months prior to its occupation. It had been so for almost four months now and ‘The Commandant’ had kept order to avoid an external garrison from the Touman. Warriors of all types, from every Clan, visited while waiting for reassignment, but did so in segregated areas where their 'excesses' could be better reined in by a bloated Constabulary. Under his command the Somerset Constabulary had quintupled in size to five Brigades, each equipped with clantech small arms and light vehicles, with another brigade on the way as their mission of maintaining internal security and policing the growing population of ‘transports’ and POWs expanded.
Now that winter was over Rhonda had new plans to do the same in the North around Taunton and Hollyfield as had been done in the South near Somerport and Haskell. With each new completed project Adam knew he was strengthening the foundation of the very people that sought to bring war to his mother on Tharkad and beyond. He tried to avoid becoming numb to that fact as he signed off on the plans, but it was wearing on him each time he penned his name. It would be so easy to go numb and acknowledge he was in a bind. With the latest strategic reversals, he remained hopeful that Somerset might soon be liberated, that the Clans would fail, but it would not be an easy road to victory and there was still more suffering to endure.
16:00 came around fast and Adam had finally succumbed to hunger and fatigue. His lunch was carefully packed and cut with the care of a doting girlfriend. Xenia might have replaced Rachel in an official capacity as his assistant, but Adam had seen a want for more, whether genuine or coached, and the temptation was there after she had moved into one of the guest rooms. She was first into his office bursting through and bubbling with excitement. A bookish blonde complete with glasses and the girlish good looks of a college coed wrapped in cute office attire. “Adam, why are you are only now eating? It is almost dinnertime.”
Adam looked over to the completed piles of papers he had signed and sorted through, “I was busy.”
Rhonda followed slightly behind, and Xenia looked toward her with stern accusatory gestures. “Why do you give him so much work grandmother? He can hardly take care of himself.
It is a good thing I am here to help him.”
Her cane hit so firmly the reverb echoed off the walls. “Do not be fooled Xenia. Commandant Steiner is a capable man, he will not waste away for want of a missed meal, nor does he require the doting attention of anyone. However, if he requests a new domestic or administrative staff to ease his burdens, I could provide him with one.”
“I trust the staff I have Merchant Factor. We have grown up together, I regard them as family.”
The Merchant Factor ran her finger along the bookshelves and brushed the dust off onto her pants. “Your family does not seem to regard the maintenance of their house as a priority. That will need to change shortly.”
Xenia could barely contain her excitement as she stood beside Adam’s desk. “Can I tell him grandmother?”
While continuing her patrol and adjusting things Rhonda looked toward them, “Go ahead child.”
She turned to him with the bright eyes and the frantic gestures of a starstruck fangirl, “Leo Showers is coming to Somerset to see all the great work we have done.
The ilKhan here in person!
I am so excited!
I must tell Samara and get her to make me a dress!”
Xenia rushed away to make a phone call to her friend, the clothing Artisan, whom she couldn’t stop gushing about unless requested or redirected.
They were left behind in the room as the door sprung back into place. The older woman took a seat opposite him, “We have three weeks to prepare for the ilKhan’s arrival. I will handle everything on my end. I expect you to whip your staff and this residence into prestige shape before then or I will replace them and do it myself.
You are The Commandant, prepare the Constabulary and your Somerset Strikers for a formal demonstration of arms before the ilKhan. He is apparently unsettled, so much so that he has summoned the Loremaster of the Clans for a formal board of inquiry into our recent…setbacks.
No doubt he sees our investments in your world and wishes to deploy a garrison to safeguard them. If you do not want that to happen, then you had best put on a good show. Understood?”
Adam stared at the woman for a long moment, even though he outranked her as a Warrior and the Planetary Governor she knew how to play the game and would continue tightening his leash and limiting his options the longer she remained on his world. “Aff, Merchant Factor. Please tell ilKhan Leo Showers that I am honored by his impending visit and look forward to demonstrating my professional competence and conviction in our cause.”
Rhonda waited for a moment before standing, “I will Commandant Steiner.
Thank you for your continued hospitality.”
-
It's difficult being a traitor if you are not one, he even has to kill people on whose side he is, in order to keep up the masquerade.
Did Rhonda foist Xenia on him to have more oversight on him?
-
03/20/3052
Somerport was one of the segregated areas that Clan Warriors were allowed to roam in, they apparently found the Academy and its museum of great interest which was both exciting and draining for its curators. The Somerset Strikers who garrisoned it were also treated as curiosities for they did not resemble the Clans' Mechwarrior ideal. Chatterweb stories however spoke of them in high esteem giving them almost magical powers to control nature itself in order to defeat their enemies. Adam smiled at hearing the fanciful tales from Xenia. He did take pride in the Strikers who had very nearly handed the Clans their first defeat of the war during an honorable Trial with the Star Adders. Most of them would even return his calls something which was becoming a rarity elsewhere.
Despite it only being six months since his Trial against Katya Kerensky those Warriors he had met while on the grounds spoke of the early days of REVIVAL with an almost nostalgic view. All were equally eager to find a means by which to delay deployment until after the ilKhan’s visit. This kept 3rd Brigade Somerset Constabulary and local medical clinics busy handling an unprecedented increase in interpersonal un-augmented Trials and larger brawls that would not result in severe injury but were very detrimental to the town’s tranquility as 3SC trucks blared their alarms through the night.
Somerset was, until Anette’s scandalous exile and almost six years of tabloid fueling Penelope-like rejection of a constant stream of perspective suitors, known for its military academy, one of the smallest, least prestigious, but most forward-thinking martial institutions in an otherwise conservative empire. Duchess Anette Steiner never shared or supported her cousin’s fondness for military matters, nor that of her sons. She blamed their stepfather Walther’s gripping tales of fighting against the Draconis Combine on Radstadt as a member of the Rasalhague Resistance for their behavior. Adam remembered when she had seen Andrew off to his first deployment that she cursed the heavens for making both her boys so daft as to miss his point.
As he walked across the grounds of Somerset Academy Adam remembered that his mother had sought to shut it down on multiple occasions. Every attempt was thwarted and corresponded with a promotion for Roman Steiner who championed it from his own disgraceful exile. The tabloids and gossip circles soaked it up and Roman’s status rose among the military despite his ‘difficult’ start.
With this string of promotions and Archon Katrina’s politicking he was put in command of the Third Royal Guards where he achieved resounding success against the Draconis Combine. His successes in turn provided room for her daughter and present Archon Melissa to establish an uneasy peace with Luthien that had held for more than a decade. Without the Draconis Combine threat, an ongoing Capellan Civil War, and with a marriage between Ian Davion and Corrine Marik the LCAF had lost its edge and the Clans had taken advantage of their lack of vigilance and vision.
This lack was not the fault of their General of the Armies however, almost a decade ago Melissa Steiner appointed Roman to the post. He proposed a series of reforms to modernize the military, but she never championed the politically difficult and expensive changes he sought to enact within the Estates General. There were rumors that Roman hand delivered her his resignation letter along with other uncomfortable material from her military record that would be made public if she continued her stonewalling. Archon Steiner had only just begun granting him the authority and funds to enact his Reforms despite much complaining and handwringing within the Estates General who sought to reduce their tax burden while retaining privileges.
Fortunately, none of the Warriors roaming Somerport were curious enough to inspect the monument that had its back to the rising sun standing within one of its parade grounds. He was thankful there had been no calls to remove it, use it as an artillery target, or crush it beneath a Battlemech because it was a solid reminder of what and who he could be. Upon Roman’s ascension to General of the Armies the Somerset Academy Alumni petitioned Anette to allow them to fund a statue in his honor. She initially protested but acceded under pressure from Tharkad, but only if she could choose the sculptor and would have final veto on the design.
Adam stood before that very statue, only just installed last summer when Roman’s daughter General Sarah Steiner, who was responsible for his exile by her existence, helped unveil it while she was on leave from Chateau with her family. Although he probably knew about it or had seen it in pictures from afar Roman had yet to see his statue up close and in person. He had not even set foot on his homeworld for longer than Adam had been alive.
Maybe he would finally be able to see it in person when Somerset was free again.
Right now, however ‘The Commandant’ had to toe the line amidst the maelstrom.
Adam saluted his cousin,
“Godspeed General Steiner, and may god have mercy on us all”
-
03/31/3052
Most of the staff had left for the night but Xenia still looked both ways before exiting her room craving the adventure of doing something she wasn’t supposed to even though she lived here. Her new heels clicked on the floor, she halted at the sound they made on the mansion’s hardwood floors. Nothing stirred despite the click-clack of her heels seeming to carry uncomfortably far before it was overcome by the faint hum of air conditioning.
She huffed looking down at the glamorous shoes, the first purchase she had made with her ‘paycheck.’ “What was the point of sneaking out the door if I am wearing heels anyway?”
Xenia balanced carefully on them having only received her first pair after accepting Rhonda’s request to replace Rachel as Adam’s ‘executive assistant’ as it seemed the norm for a woman in that role. A role she only agreed to perform when her grandmother also authorized her to select any outfits wanted from the Artisans’ Limited List rather than the regular catalog of goods. A privilege that Natalie and Veronica envied just as much as her personal room within a fully staffed mansion in the countryside rather than sharing an apartment in Taunton with them.
After a moment she mustered up the courage to continue despite the click-clack that reverberated around her. Instead, she hummed the catchy melody of a song she had heard while in Taunton yesterday but to which she didn’t understand the lyrics. Xenia paused at one of the vases of cut flowers and looked around before leaning in to smell their gentle fragrance. When she looked up the butler Gustav stared at her behind his well-groomed mustache before silently continuing with his rounds. Her face turned as red as the roses elegantly placed within the finely crafted vase.
Holly Field Haus had never been so vibrant or beautiful in the six weeks she had lived in it. Everything seemed to be shining despite the lowered lights and it being dark outside. Xenia peeked through the blinds trying to spot the Constables hidden in the dark and following the lights of a patrol vehicle as it rounded the perimeter. She descended the stairs holding firmly to the railing to keep her balance, on the lookout for Gustav or another of the resident staff before slipping into the parlor.
Since it was an interior room, she was allowed to raise the lights and did so before standing beside a high-backed chair that featured in the painting across from it. Within that chair sat a woman whose face she recognized after looking under some of the covered paintings and through the society and culture magazines scattered about. She had collected them all in her room to read them in secret only to later share them with her friends who hinged on every word and savored the glossy pictures within. Xenia repositioned a mirror nearby and attempted to emulate the elegant stature of this woman clasping her hands, crossing her legs, and craning her neck as she did, except all of that really hurt or made her numb and dizzy after a time.
After the lights were lowered, she opened the door, once more on the lookout for the staff, before realizing that was silly since she couldn’t be quiet anyway and they probably didn’t care. Click-clack on the tiles as she walked through the ground floor before arriving before grand wooden doors, gilded along the sides, and with a knocker in the shape of a ‘Griffon’ leading to the ballroom.
Xenia tried to pull the door open but lost her balance, falling backward onto the tile. Her first thought was to check that the heel was intact. It was! Thank the Great Father. A sigh of relief escaped her upon realizing the only damage caused by her misadventure was to her pride and posterior. She undid the heels and tried again straining against the heavy door that she had seen Adam open so effortlessly. Success!
Even though the light was low everything was still so beautiful, intricate crystal, delicate lace, colorful tapestries, gleaming brass and silverware, all just arranged so perfectly. Something about the chairs too was different as she sat down in one to put her shoes back on. After doing so she stood on the polished floor taking it all in, twirling until she had to catch her balance or crash into and ruin it all.
She paused and looked down at the shoes, although they were glamorous and Samara had used them as inspiration for her dress, if she were to trip in the presence of the ilKhan she might immediately die of embarrassment. Everyone was going to be dressed to their best for his visit and she would have to be as well. Her mind recalled an article in one of the magazines about how dancing could improve your coordination and she desperately needed that. For that she also needed a partner and someone to catch her, and fast. The ilKhan was already in system and she wasn’t ready yet.
Her mind raced through possibilities; the butler probably knew how to dance considering his long service in this house. He was busy preparing the house and had barely spoken to her all this time, there is no way he would even entertain the notion. There was only one other possibility, but it was so late! and awkward! She clenched her opposite elbows in her hands, suddenly cold despite her racing heart.
Through the trip upstairs dozens of scenarios flashed in her mind ranging from Adam slamming the door in her face to waking up naked beside him in the ballroom in the morning when the staff arrived a possibility which caused her to blush uncontrollably that she could even consider such a thing. Xenia checked herself in the mirror, she had already taken her makeup off for the night so she hoped the low light would conceal that. She took a deep breath to calm the nervous shivers running through her.
“His light is still on! Even at twenty-two hundred.” She whispered as a tense silence settled upon the house. Xenia glided across the hallway stepping gently on the carpet that ran through the hall, leaning uncomfortably far to knock on Adam’s door. A moment passed and no response came, “So he is just going to ignore me?” Once more silence settled upon the hall, Xenia stepped forward and more firmly knocked on the door. She heard something inside and froze up as Adam opened the door in his nightshirt, even with her heels on she was still only as tall as his chest. He looked at her, tilting his head in confusion. “What are you doing up so late, dressed like that Xenia?”
“I…was…” Xenia stammered for a moment, nervous shivers threatening to consume her, “I was…”
“You were what?”
“Iwaswonderingifyouwouldliketodancewithme!” Erupted forth as rapidly and loudly as a machine gun. She put her hands over her mouth at the utterance of such gibberish.
“You are going to have to slow down.”
“Adam, will you dance with me? Please?”
“Now?”
“Your schedule is very full tomorrow and for the rest of the week.”
Adam kept her in suspense as the shivers returned threatening to knock her over, “Okay,” he began to close the door on her, “but I have to change.” Then it was done. Xenia launched her hands up in celebration before retracting them just as quickly because she almost knocked herself over, again.
-
OK, so the airhead thing was not just an act on her part. It's interesting to see that as hard as they tried, Clans absolutely failed to erase superfluous character traits amongst their population and even in such short time, the influence of Inner Sphere is beginning to take hold.
-
Never underestimate the allure of mindless consumerism. To paraphrase a former NVA officer (the german NVA, that is): 'If it had come to war, we were certain our troops would have given a strong initial showing and pushed through the first lines of NATO defenses. But the first shopping mall along the way would have brought our advance to a grinding hold.'
-
An Excalibur burned down into the otherwise vacant Somerport Starport, its incredible thrusters one of the largest SLDF dropships ever deployed roared over the garrison town despite the torrents of water being unleashed upon the ferrocrete to tame its noise and heat. It was marked by a Golden Daggerstar which shone in the sun as the mist settled around it.
Once the mist settled and ferrocrete cooled large ramps capable of bearing the heaviest of tanks were lowered on the flanks. From these a Binary of Ebon Keshik Elementals were disgorged marching in unison before taking up parallel lines in front of the Somerset Strikers in brilliantly waxed Omnimechs.
Star Commander Adam (Steiner) stood at the end of these lines in his black and silver Star Adder uniform with its red Daggerstar and one gold bar on the shoulder, a saber at his side. The many Clan Warriors on world stood at his back standing proud in their own formal uniforms, and bruises. Just outside the group was a large security detachment of 4th Brigade Somerset Constabulary also in their dress blues but fully equipped to repel any assassination attempt.
As the central ramp lowered every Warrior saluted as The Oathmasters of the Clans descended, their ornate robes enhancing the stature of the elder Elementals. ilKhan Leo Showers stood at the top of the ramp. The Warriors behind Adam shouted so loud that he felt he would go deaf, and they mute before the ilKhan made it to the end of the lines.
Leo Showers descended and every Warrior he passed turned to follow him in a close formation. As Leo neared Adam could make out even more of his most hated enemy, his sleeveless armored outfit was battered and dull, unlike those of Inner Sphere Lords. The ilKhan evidently took pride in its combat damage as much as his dark skin covered with intricate tattoos and raised scars, black dreadlocks ornamented with bone and metal hung from his head. He looked every bit a Pirate Warlord rather than the leader of a large army of Warrior Clans.
Leo waited for a moment as he stood within arm’s reach of Adam before returning the salute and calling for silence. He nodded and the ornaments in his hair clattered hollowly, his voice was low and menacing, like a bestial growl. “Commandant Steiner, thank you for receiving me with such hospitality.”
“I am only giving you what you are due.” Adam said as he thrust his saber into the ilKhan’s chest. Leo collapsed onto him as hot blood ran down his hands. The last thing Adam saw was a flash from the cameras followed by the Warship above as it incinerated his homeworld.
Adam woke up with a start, dizzy from the rapid motion and sweating. He looked beside him at an empty bed within his Academy quarters relieved at his own fortitude. After spending some unguarded private time with Xenia over the past days had made her less flirty but more intimate toward him after long discussions on shared or personal challenges. They were both surrounded by enemies and a wrong word could have easily led to his first mistake of the day.
His uniform was hanging within his bathroom, clean and pressed, along with the Commandant’s saber, he splashed cold water on his face and stared in the mirror, the clock ticked down as he awaited the ilKhan’s arrival. Adam opened the window to see Somerport at rest contrasting with his own restlessness. “It is almost showtime Somerset. Can you feel it?”
Somewhere above him the McKenna’s Pride and ilKhan Showers loomed waiting for their opportunity to pounce. He might not be able to protect the Commonwealth, but he could protect Somerset. The ilKhan would get his show even if it cost him his soul. Until then he would bide his time and do what he could, without losing more people he cared for, forgiveness or justice could come later after they won this war.
04/08/3052
Rewland was bright and loud with nightlife down below in the city as more cruise ships and yachts appeared on its docks as Tropicana filled up. High above them in the hills there was only the song of nightbirds and sound of windchimes around a cozy cottage in the woods. Duchess Anette Steiner took a rare moment to read a novel on her porch enjoying an unusually warm night. Walter whittled beside her each trying to avoid facing the challenges before them and longing for past nights on Somerset. Anette nodded off but was woken by the dreadful sound of her phone ringing.
Walter was still at his task his strong hands carefully shaving the wood within, “Do you want me to answer it?”
She really did, there were no good phonecalls these days, “No I will do it.”
“I’ll be right here.”
“I know.” She kissed him, “Thank You.”
Anette Steiner rose to enter her house and pick up the ornate, graceful styling of a retro-style telephone, “This is Lady Steiner.” The voice on the other side told her the most incredulous things and she summoned Walter from the porch. “Adam is alive!”
“That’s fantastic news Anette.” Something was off though he could sense it in his long time companion, “but why aren’t you happy.”
“There’s a video with him that the One Star Faith has just distributed.”
“And?”
She left the phone out its cradle, “It shows him with the ilKhan, on Somerset, in my house.”
-
So I presume Andrew hasn't made it to the friendly lines yet.
-
So I presume Andrew hasn't made it to the friendly lines yet.
He is unfortunately KIA, but will always remain MIA, after his time on the Cato.
-
Interlude – Status over Rank
04/05/3052 | Alba, Antares
Star Colonel Katya Kerensky, of the 37th Strikers, exited the elevator stepped across the carpeted surface to see ‘all’ of ‘her subordinates’ present in the hotel bar. It was far past their normal ‘off-duty’ hours just past midnight local. She leaned into Commander Presley sitting at the end of the bar fixated onto a television monitor showing a low-rez video feed with voiceover.
‘A Telosa Television Production,
On behalf of the One Star Faith,
Broadcast with the permission of Leo Showers, ilKhan of the Clans.’
“Presley what is going on here?”
“Evening Colonel, The ilKhan has a special broadcast over the chatterweb. The Coriolis is on the rebroadcast chain, right from the McKenna’s Pride herself.”
“Why was I not told?”
“Ask the Coriolis’ Commander. They might have not known until the request came in.”
“Why did you not tell me?”
“You were taking a bath.”
Katya tossed her now much blonder hair (thank you purple shampoo) back, crossing arms across her chest. “I was not in there for that long.”
‘recorded, produced, and edited on the planet Somerset 04/04/3052.’
“Somerset!
Barman turn it up!
And get me a glass of something strong.”
The broadcast began with the ilKhan walking down parallel rows of Ebon Keshik Elementals, Katya quickly downed the fiery spirit, before slammed it to the ground upon seeing…Adam Steiner! Shaking hands with the ilKHAN!
Her glass bounced back from the floor. “This isn’t a glass! It’s plastic!”
She grabbed the Barman’s lapels, nearly pulled him over the bar in a blind fury, “You best get me something breakable! before I start looking for something! Understood?!”
This time the overfull but quickly drained glass shattered on the floor tiles as Katya shouts at the screen growing louder and more incoherent with each drink. Everyone present was just incredibly glad she hadn’t come downstairs with a pistol belt strapped across her hips, or every TV in the bar would have had bullets put through it by the end of the broadcast.
She, Katya Kerensky, was a Star Colonel in command of a SuperCluster 7 Trinaries deep! She had to turn down Warriors because her Galaxy Commander got personally involved. Antares had begun functioning once more after her confrontation with COMSTAR where she saved its people by stopping COMSTAR and overthrew Marcos Radick, who had been sent to Hot Springs for convalescence after being demoted to MechWarrior, to become their Governor.
Yet each frame of the ilKhan’s broadcast lingered on…Adam Steiner! HER former bondsman, HIS friends, HIS mother’s house, HIS planet, HIS accursed Trinary of Somerset Strikers, HIS exploits, what HE and THEY could do for the Clans, and there was no mention of Katya!
A Donar crew, as wasp-like as their aircraft, sauntered over to Presley who was still calmly sitting next to an increasingly irate Star Colonel. Katya’s unit had attracted a disproportionate number of female Warriors, giving them incredible air power, since she was one of the few higher ground commanders that was also a woman. “Hey Pres, you faced Adam in single combat, right?”
These women had also discovered lipstick and liked it enough that Katya had begun browbeating her Merchant Factor into adding it to the Catalog of Standard Goods. The male Warriors under her command apparently appreciated the sudden burst of color too. “Ladies, not only did I face Adam Steiner in single combat, but he out-massed me, and was piloting an advanced Battlemech that we knew nothing about.
All to aid my Star Captain who got in over her head.
Oh, and did I mention everything was on fire.”
They started rubbing his arms, “You are so brave, that must have been so terrifying.”
“It was no big deal. Maybe I can tell you some more later.”
He was tugged to his feet, “How about now?”
“Well, if you insist.”
The broadcast ended with a red-faced Katya who grabbed the nearest woman and dragged her behind, “We need to go to the bathroom.”
“Why?”
“I need you to hold my hair, because I just washed it.”
-
Adam really brings out the inner Balkaner in Katya
-
I like to consider their relationship ship as her being his psycho ex
-
Interlude – Cut and Thrust
04/03/3052
LCAF General of the Armies Roman Steiner looked upon the once desolate city of Malcheema from the ramparts of The Old Triad. A warm wind blew through the once abandoned acropolis Roman had moved much of his Tharkad staff not split with Duke Bradford and his Bannermen on Coventry to the old Arcturan Guards Headquarters.
Thomas Bradford, as the Archon’s husband, was the only other man with enough pull among the nobility to cajole them into action but even he could not work miracles. COMSTAR’s Phi Branch halting the financial chicanery being undertaken by the nobles to divest themselves of their Kroner as the Stock Market collapsed and move to Sian gave them some motivation. They were however far too unwilling to extend themselves or their money during this golden opportunity while Precentor Martial Brett-Marik drained incredible amounts of the Clan’s combat potential around Pandora.
The ancient capital of the Lyran Commonwealth below him was once more vibrant as ‘Roman’s Columns’ moved in from across the Commonwealth, including a Brigade of Rasalhague Borderers from the Treaty Zone. Duke Michael Fyhne made whatever he could available, proud to serve the Archon and House Steiner as his ancestors had during the Succession Wars. In the distance dozens of dropships along with thousands of cargo containers and other pieces of war materiel occupied its vast Starport. Formerly the launch point for many raids into the Draconis Combine Arcturus would now be the origin of Tamar’s Liberation.
Once Tamar was liberated, the rest of the Rasalhague border would follow, fighting as long and hard as his support and manpower could endure.
Then his homeworld, because the Clans had made a terrible mistake when they decided to attack his home planet.
If he could rescue Sarah and his son-in-law he would, but he would definitely return to Somerset, after more than 30 years, as its liberator, or die trying.
-
A String of Perils Intro
04/10/3052
A stinger plays as “Inside Access” appears on the letterboard before quickly disappearing.
Two blonde women in designer attire stand in front of a large green screen showing video snippets from the latest video from occupied territory featuring Adam Steiner and ilKhan Leo Showers. The taller one spoke first, “Welcome to Inside Access, with Erika Valen and me Marissa Dahl. Bringing you the latest in celebrity and political news within the Lyran Commonwealth, courtesy of the Tharkad Media Associates.”
“That’s right Marissa, we have breaking news, a video distributed by the One Star Faith has gone viral throughout the Lyran Commonwealth showing what life is like behind the lines, or rather what the Clans want to show us.”
“You’ve probably seen it, but we are going to show it to you again and update you on the latest waves running through the Triad in its wake.”
The video screen runs through highlights, ilKhan Leo Showers’ arrival on Somerset and the grand gathering of Clan Warriors that welcomed him. “No formal uniform for the ilKhan, looks like his armored vest has seen some conflict over the years, but he has great hair.”
ilKhan Showers and ‘Lord Commandant’ Adam Steiner in Star Adder dress uniform saluting and shaking hands with him. “What a tall drink of water he is, the uniform looks sharp even if its on the wrong side.”
“Makes me wonder who Anette’s mysterious lover was.”
Various feats of incredible Mech maneuverability as the Somerset Strikers put on a show worthy of the Noisiel Summer Games and Solaris Winter Championships by first executing a hot drop to a soundtrack of hard rock. Later, it included a silent drill team of Goshawk Battlemechs where the jettisonable laser is popped off, tossed to another mech, who then attached it before doing the same. “I didn’t think Mechs could move that way, gives me ideas.”
This is followed by a ribbon cutting ceremony for a new railyard near Somerport with the Merchant Factor. The video ends with Adam Steiner hosting the ilKhan and his retinue within his mother’s mansion outside Taunton, and a speech where he discusses the value that working with the Clans have given Somerset. It faded away to display the word ‘REVIVAL’ emblazoned over the center of a red Clan Daggerstar.
“This video has caused incredible unrest among the Estates General where they very closely passed a motion to censor Anette Steiner, Duchess of Somerset, and its temporary Estates General Representative whose term is supposed to end this summer when Lord Bren returns from his cancer treatments in the Magistracy of Canopus.”
“I suppose he would resume his post although Somerset’s region that he represents is under occupation. The Archon has not clarified what the representatives of occupied worlds would do if the Clans cannot be defeated by LCAF Roman Steiner and COMSTAR Precentor Martial Photon Brett-Marik and the region return to Tharkad’s control.”
“Anette has been removed from her committee assignments and there is discussion of accusing her of treason. These accusations have set off a firestorm of scathing editorial reviews drudging up her history and intimate relationship with Walther Gustavson. The Rasalhague Rebel and their shared works which could be interpreted as satirical and critical of Commonwealth Elites.”
The video screen behind them turned to an older resolution before cameras improved along with everything else courtesy of the Helm Memory Core showing Carmilla and Anette through the ages starting with Carmilla attending Rewland College of Fine Arts at 16 in 2988, the 3rd Millenium Party at Alessandro Steiner’s Court for the debut of her 5 year old daughter, then moving on to her exile to Somerset by Archon Katrina, and the almost 6 years of humbling the most eligible bachelors in the Lyran Commonwealth that resulted after that.
“Inside Access was built on Anette and her mother Carmilla’s actions. Both were media darlings for the longest time and provided our predecessors with lots of copy even after Carmilla’s tragic suicide, Anette’s exile to Somerset, and Roman’s expulsion from Nagelring.”
“You are right Marissa; the bosses should have been paying them all this time.
All we can do now is wait for the Triad which has been very silent on the matter considering Archon Melissa’s close relationship with Anette and the ongoing Clan Invasion.”
“Rest assured though we will keep all our loyal fans updated on the latest events on Tharkad.”
OOC - Will move a String of Pearls to a later update in order to keep the timeline semi-consistent with the chapters, have to do the aftermath of Atocongo and Odessa first.
-
Chapter 22 – Fire from the Sky
03/22/3052
Phelen Kell’s Phoenix Hawk easily paced Kai Allard’s Thunderbolt as they passed over the windblown snow dunes of the remote northern desert continent of Grunwald. A stream of light towers marked out the path from the Starport to the place where adventuresome academics had transformed an old weather station and COMSTAR maintenance facility into a Clantech exploitation facility. The polar base was far away from civilization, and its airport due to unsteady ground. “Why do we have to walk so far Kai?”
“This is your planet Phelen, just because you spent so much time off world doesn’t give you an excuse to not know anything about where you are going on your own world.
Aren’t you Recon and the future Duke?”
“Yeah, but that doesn’t mean I know where I am going beforehand. I just wander around looking for trouble or try hiding from it.”
“Did you ever stop to think that might be a problem?”
“I’ve got to much stuff on my mind to stop and think.”
They passed through the gate to the salutes of its parka and balaclava clad guards hiding within a lean-to wind shelter. The only other mech in this facility’s mech bay was a Fighting Intellectuals’ Mongoose which had been carefully restored to its full functionality as if it were right off the line during the Star League era.
As they disembarked the pair of them walked through the motor pool of tracked rovers meant to maintain the sensitive planetary sensors that provided continuous space awareness and communications pointing toward the Zenith. Most still bore COMSTAR Psi branch’s ice blue logo on their snowy exteriors although the Order’s staff had been redeployed to Odessa.
The facility had four voluminous hanger style bays large enough to assemble, repair, and service the long range sensors, telescopes, and communication systems that dotted the remote northern wilderness of Arc-Royal connecting it to its Zenith Jump Point. Within one of the voluminous bays was a superheavy VTOL, known as a Tonbo, on loan from the Draconis Combine’s Support and Engineering command courtesy of the Fighting Intellectuals along with many ergonomic containers filled with supplies and scientific equipment. This VTOL was as large as the six Uni Loadermechs folded up in two other bays. One of these large quadrupeds belonged to Psi Branch but the others belonged to AMC affiliates for the transport of salvage and heavy scientific equipment on their backs across the narrow road leading to the Starport.
In the final bay however was the actual exploitation facility and its centerpiece was a massive copper cage for the legless robot within. Even though Phelen had transported the strange robot through space to Arc-Royal it still felt like Captain Kubusaka was a sadistic child that ripped the legs off an insect and then put it under a looking glass until it burned to death.
Shinto and his Intellectuals were looking through all manner of components ripped from the other robots they had disabled to understand them better. “How is your prisoner Shinto?”
“Thus far it has not complained Phelen Kell.”
“I suppose not having a mouth to speak with aides it in that capacity.”
“Indeed, however I noticed that it pays particular attention to us when we play music.”
“You play music to it?”
The Kuritan Mercenary Captain wrote something on a note and showed it to him from where the machine couldn’t see. 'Follow me.'
Kai, Phelen, and Shinto walked into another room with large insulating blankets lining the wall leading to the hanger. “It is listening though, and it has been trying to call for help.”
“Of course it is listening, but how do you know it is trying to call for help?”
“We managed to decrypt a short radio wave adjustment on the backchannel telemetry band from our dropship as we left Atocongo. It went unnoticed initially, but something might have been listening, like the Clan Battlegroups or its mothership, the Mekong.”
Kai leaned in on the other Merc, “So you brought it up to a place where half of Arc-Royal’s most sensitive communications are located?”
“They are air-gapped, and we placed it in a faraday cage. No electromagnetic emissions can exit from it, but we still pick them up from within and run them through a closed system trying to figure out what it is capable off. It has successfully hacked my old console a few times.”
“How did it manage to do this?”
“It has some kind of strange machine mind meld going on inside. So, it did that to my computer when it was plugged in, which was also in a faraday cage. I’m probably going to have to microwave and destroy that unit when we are done because I can’t be sure it didn’t leave a worm deep inside.”
Phelen’s face looked puzzled, “Shinto, why do you have a giant faraday cage?”
Captain Kubusaka was unperturbed, “Not only did the scientists bring a giant faraday cage with them, which I presume was for comm diagnostics initially. Unless we all read too much about the old SLDF Caspar system and thought the Clans could reconstitute it, but I made signs.”
He pointed to the metal printed sign hanging on the door which showed a hazard placard with a warning in binary and English upon it reading ‘Warning! Hostile Artificial Intelligence.’
“This is to dangerous Captain; you should destroy it.” Kai said with his hand on his pistol.
“And lose this opportunity! We don’t know how many of these units the Clans have in their possession or what its capabilities and weaknesses are. This could be our ENIGMA moment Phelen, we’ll be careful and update you regularly.”
“Lady Kell has insisted we come up here to observe your research teams for a few weeks while the AMC Assault Force is engaged elsewhere.
I think my mother just wanted me and Kai out of the house, but I endeavor to do what she asks of me. Even if it requires me to be up here in the ice and darkness with a potentially murderous AI. Surely there are no horror stories that start this way.”
“It’s out of ammo and harmless, no need to be dramatic.”
“That remains to be seen Captain.”
“Phelan can’t help but be dramatic Captain, surely you know that by now.”
“Ouch Kai, Harsh words from the man who fought Prince Minoru Kurita in the University of Victoria Arena to defend ‘his family’s honor’ against an insult.”
“This is going to be a long, painful field trip if you keep that up Lieutenant Kell.”
03/23/3052 House Kell, Old Connaught
Lady Kell aka Salome Ward answered the telephone as the caller ID identified it as Precentor Arc-Royal Anthony Kurns. “Lady Kell, we have an unusual request for a Lagrange point jump.
The Carrack Armored Freighter CS Temperance wishes to transfer a cargo of Warship parts and Ammunition onboard to the Dragoon Task Force since we lost ships around Eris and no longer have the same fleet strength as before.”
“What makes this request unusual Anthony?”
“Its origin point, our recent engagements with Clan Battlegroups and the threat they pose have displaced some of our ships into dead systems or interstellar space for protection from raiders.
My facility doesn’t have an updated list from Naval Command for the ships’ safety. The HPG authentication codes for the Temperance are valid, but Precentor Naval Zwick has not informed us of a transfer with his personal codes. It is possible this is an unauthorized transfer or one that just missed the call from Eris.
It is your call whether we clear a pirate point jump from a COMSTAR Freighter and determine what we should do when it arrives.
Shall I send the Temperance’s Captain the latest coordinates?”
Major Salome Ward looked up at the stars, the Dragoons, their Warships, her husband, and a sizable portion of the AMC’s combat potential was out taking advantage of the limited window to disrupt ongoing raids by Clan Mongoose and Nova Fox while the Clan Warship threat was minimized. Meanwhile she was hostess to and co-planner with Hanse Davion and Yorinaga Kurita while being in constant communication with Arcturus, Coventry, and Tharkad. The Dragoon Task Force had taken major but noncritical damage fighting the Nova Fox Battlegroup and there was no such thing as to many supplies. If it were unauthorized, she could always just return them to the CSC when they asked.
“Lagrange Jump Authorized.”
“Confirmed Lady Kell. Is there anything else Blake’s Order can do for you?”
“Help us win this War.” Salome Ward hung up the phone and wrapped her robe about her before departing to her chambers.
A streamlined Coriolis class Corvette floated in the darkness of interstellar space, multiple antennae bristled from its white hull and ‘SLS Venturi’ was marked in bold blocky letters along its flanks. Inside the red lit CIC Cell Commander Shigeru (Kajita) of the Watch waited while the HPG output printed. He gripped the printout with his main hand which bore an octopus ring. ‘Captain Ingram, the CS Temperance is cleared to initiate an L-1 Point Jump to Arc-Royal, the following coordinates are valid for the next 14 hours.’
His First Officer looked over to him, “I cannot believe that worked Commander.”
“Nothing ventured nothing gained Thalia.
At the worst we would need more time to infiltrate.
While the Dragoons are away, the Watch can take advantage of this opportunity to recover our stolen property before the Inner Sphere or ilKhan know how valuable it truly is.”
He tapped the intercom button, “All hands this Commander Kajita, begin jump preparations…and deception protocol.”
-
This could be our ENIGMA moment Phelen
Given this is a millennium later, how many people would have known the historical reference? On the positive side, Phelan will have something excitment breaking the monotony of science outpost. Given his luck, the hell will break loose just as he was about to score with the outpost's sole eligible female.
-
I would expect Turing and ENIGMA to still be known although it would be more along the lines of the Cesar Cipher. The names you might recognize if you were in the field. I can't actually think of a similar action during the Succession Wars but I didn't do a deep dive into that lore.
-
03/24/3052 07:28
Caitlin Kell stretched in the early morning hours at LCAF Airbase Northridge, home of Crashtest Fighter School™, owned and operated by the AMC and to which she was enrolled. She ran along the runway in her tan flight-suit as Lightning Fighters lifted off to escort shuttles and dropships inbound from the Carrack CS Temperance overhead before throwing her fist in the air with a jump and whooping shout. “Go get ‘em Eights!”
Once back on the ground she jogged over to the Crashtest’s runway where her Bullfrog V/STOL Trainer was prepped and ready along with the rest of the cadet squadron. This morning’s mission was shooting down drone targets with live weapons over Knucklehead Training Grounds. The lower powered fighter serving as an important next step to earning her Aerospace Fighter Wings after the regular jet trainer but before she got an actual spaceship.
Above her Hank ‘Eights’ McQuinn and his Lightning fighter lifted above the clouds and into space switching his vibrantly painted fighter to orbital operations as he approached the white painted Carrack ‘hovering’ in low orbit above Old Connaught. “Captain Ingram of the CS Temperance this is Colonel McQuinn of the Arc-Royal Huscarl Aerospace Squadron. We will provide an escort for your dropships and shuttles to AMC naval depot Crackerjack.”
A man’s voice came over the radio, “That will not be necessary Colonel we have our own Aerospace Fighters, and do not require an escort. There is no threat to us below.”
COMSTAR CSC and their elite attitude, “It is protocol for incoming dropships to accept an escort from planetary defense forces. The Blessed Order is no different.”
Two RADAR contacts emerged from the sensor shadow of the Warship. One was Jumbo sized, and the other was slightly larger but had the same sensor profile as a Gazelle. Ten Shuttles, Ares Landing Craft, and twenty Aerospace Fighters, Tomahawks, were launched from its doors as they approached visual range. Hank zoomed in on the hull markings which disagreed with its electronic signature, ‘SLS Venturi, C/FS-IX.’ What put chills in his blood was the crimson Clan Daggerstar that took up much of its prow instead of the Sword of Light.
“Clan Warship
Evasive!
Break!
Break!!”
The Fighters dove to put atmosphere between them, the hostile Warship, and its escorts but they were close behind as they spiraled away luring them to Knucklehead away from Old Connaught. Beneath them air raid warnings sounded throughout Old Connaught for the first time in decades alerting Anti-Air Forces and calling all reserve formations to arms.
Caitlin had just gotten into her cockpit and was running through her pre-flight checks as LCAF and AMC soldiers rushed to their positions. Her comm-net was immediately flooded with alerts, she squelched them and switched to the internal network, “Squadron Leader, what is going on?!”
“Beats me cadets, but it’s a good thing you are already in your cockpit with live ordnance on your wings.
Helmets and Engines on,
Canopies down,
Fighters up
This is the real deal.
You’ll earn your wings today.”
They taxied away as the turbine engines whined as ground crews rushed to pull out more fighters to prepare the on-call pilots for launch while the alert pilots scrambled their planes.
“All cadets on me.”
Cadet Squadron Six callsign lined up in the elephant walk with the rest of the alert fighters launching into uncertain skies.
Salome Ward woke when the Huscarls crashed through her door, “Lady Kell, there is a Clan Corvette over Old Connaught. We need to get you to safety.”
“What’s Hanse Davion doing?”
They paused, “Preparing his Battlemaster.”
“Yorinaga?”
“His Warhammer.”
“Cassandra?”
“Her Hunchback.”
“Where is my daughter?”
“Unknown ma’am.”
“Find her. In the meantime, my guests sound like they need a lancemate, and I don’t need to be protected.”
She looked out and up as the Huscarl mechs deployed around the Ducal Palace and rolled out throughout Old Connaught. It had been a while since she had worn a neurohelmet in battle but what auspicious company to keep and it was already in her hands as she was jogging out the door. “I am going with them.”
A Cluster of Watch Goshawk and Sidewinders dropped from an Overlord-C hovering over Denton, 40km away from Old Connaught. Thruster exhaust set the peat moor ablaze and threw up huge gouts of steam as it lifted off to return to the relative safety of Venturi’s guns. Their Ares Landing Craft deployed a mixed Drone Star of eight Myrmidon tanks and two Marker VTOLs onto a nearby highway. Cell Commander Kajita flipped his visor down concealing the EI tattoos that marked arcane patterns under his skin. He rolled his neck as his Watch Operatives and their drones followed him, “Venturi, we are on the ground and confirm drone uplink. Send the Markers to find missile targets of opportunity and alert us of force concentrations from above.
All Section Leaders fan out and find our robot.”
-
I forgot about it, but does Yorinaga have his bullshit phantom ability in this AU?
-
I forgot about it, but does Yorinaga have his bullshit phantom ability in this AU?
No, but you will see him in action alongside Hanse Davion himself against the Clans in the next section.
07:15
Lachan Lake lapped against the quay as a pair of urban camouflage wearing House Kell Huscarl Marines sat within a guard house protecting Patrick Kell’s Yacht and the superheavy ‘pocket battleship’ ARS Lachan, built as a prestige project for some Lyran nobleman, was moored. Patrick’s boat was an extravagant but very small version of his older brother’s that he was using on Tharkad, as Liaison of the AMC. Other boats lined the quays, Tugs, barges, Mercenary Gun and Missile ships flying the flags of various specialty contractors swayed with the waves.
Nearby was a helicopter base where white and orange S&R and Attack Helos waited for a call. Fred T Perry Naval Base was quiet, eerily so considering how much activity it had seen over the past months now that much of the AMC was deployed. Still many Spheroid Dropships towered into the sky while aerodyne ones were tucked into fortified hangers awaiting their next assignments.
‘Baughan. B.’ drank his coffee from the cheap cardboard cups found in the commissary, “Corporal, I heard COMSTAR was gifting the Dragoons some Warship stuff.”
‘Owen. M.’ crushed his own cup and tossed it in the trash, “Aye Gunny, the so called pacifists of the Blessed Order just so happen to pull a massive battlefleet and giant army out the’r butts. One that just so happens to be capable of taking on the Clans. Oh! and its led by a disgraced Marik.
No one asks the obvious questions.”
“There will be time for that later I suppose.” Gunny Baughan looked through his rangefinder binoculars toward the sky, “So that is apparently one of COMSTAR’s up there. Just looks like a big white spot to me. Still to close.”
Their phone rang just as Air Raid sirens blared out their wailing cry. They put it on speaker, a pre-recorded message from the base commander played, “All units disperse!
Hostile Warship and Fighters overhead.
Prepare for ground and air assault!”
Before them the barracks and exercise yards emptied of personnel rushing to their vehicles carrying only their most essential gear. Helicopter blades began turning and turbines powered up to send the ships out to more open water. The Marines looked behind them at the moored ships, “Patrick’s plaything? Or the Big Girl?”
Blake downed his coffee and trashed it as well, “Easy choice, you know I like them thick and loud rather than svelte and showy.
Time to put that Gunnery Sergeant training to use.
Be a tragedy to lose this beautiful ship at anchor. Let's make the Clans fire at a moving target.
They brought a Warship; we’ve got one too.”
The Gunnery Sergeant opened a drawer in their guard shack, donned an LCN Rear Admiral’s Cap, and fiddled with a pipe hidden within. “We’ll need a big crew to run her six guns and I don’t think we’ll have a shortage of volunteers willing to fight the enemy from behind this armor belt. I’ll start warming ‘er up.”
He faced the younger soldier, “Corporal Owen, call the Lamplight Lads over.”
Mark saluted his superior with the naval salute rather than the ground one, “Aye, Aye Skipper.”
Above Lake Lachan Caitlin Kell’s heart pounded hard in her chest as she realized her situation as the initial adrenaline drained but the next one had yet to arrive. She took control of her breathing after realizing she was out of sync and losing control. Her helmet showed multiple reticles where the first group of Aerospace fighters were engaging Eights and his squadron at high altitude over Knucklehead and away from town.
There were reports of Battlemech and Tank engagements with the Huscarls and smaller AMC affiliates still on world. Their principal target seemed to be the fortified HPG Compound in Denton, as its enlarged garrison put up a stiff resistance to control access to their associated research centers. The enemy was looking for something. But what, and why?
Another Binary of Fighters were detected as the ground based search RADARs fought for control of the spectrum after SLS Venturi showed it true colors and unleashed a torrent of electronic warfare degrading the whole region’s sensor and comm links. It was over the naval base and it’s second flight of fighters was vectoring toward it as well. The dropships!
A large RADAR contact appeared in the middle of a small flotilla of gunboats with the designation ARS Lachan fighting through the noise. That ‘battleship’ that her father had won in poker game on Blue Hole?
“What the heck are those Marines thinking?”
What was she thinking? This was a terrible idea, but it was her hometown so these clanners can go frak themselves. The Squadron leader saw the signal through the noise and ordered them down, within the defensive envelope of Air-Defense Arrows, smaller missiles, and Flak shells from autocannons and naval artillery. Missiles were already streaking upward from missile boats and ground launchers toward a spiraling column of Tomahawks.
Squadron Six traded altitude for speed skimming the choppy waters of the lake to obscure their approach as more capable fighters and pilots fought on the ceiling. Lachan Marine Helicopters were already orbiting prepared to scoop up any pilots that ended up ‘in the drink.’ Their more warlike cousins sliced along the waves heavily laden with rocket pods vectoring to intercept enemy ground forces and give heavier units time to deploy.
ARS Lachan flew a Pirate flag from its main staff beside the Arc-Royal Ensign, “God bless those damned Marines.”
The skies opened with a momentary heat bloom that killed clouds it passed through. The incredible spike in temperature from above resulted in a cored Overlord which was now blazing on the ferrocrete. Orbital firepower sliced deep into two Arrow IV GBAD installations detonating their magazines.
Huge missiles crashed into the lake around them creating a wave large enough that the fighters had to pull up or be whelmed by it. Beside her some of the smaller boats were swamped and capsized by the impact. Above them the noise and turbulence created were incredible as it passed over the lake.
“What the hell was that Squad Leader?”
“My guess is the Venturi got impatient. We are going to lose GBADs fast at this rate.”
“How are we going to fight that?”
“That is not your concern. We’ve got incoming bombers, focus on them and staying alive.
The Marines are setting up a FAP for us at the heli-base.
They’ve got plenty of missiles and fuel so feel free to use both.
Now pop up on three, double up and fire at those Tomahawks. If you get in trouble hit the deck and fly toward the Lachan. That ought to force them to disengage.”
Behind them the six navalized Sniper pieces sent up thick clouds of smoke in front of them and bursting Flak shells covering the complete naval base where they could disrupt enemy formations. The armored battleship was struck by the Venturi's laser bays and a supersonic White Shark penetrator. A jagged red streak showed where the lasers burned deep into but not through the plate. The missile's impact sent it reeling backward before returning to trim. In reply it sent a Squadron of Tomahawks up and out of range of its flotilla’s guns.
“Launch, break contact, vector to the FAP, top off, rearm with a new missile, then repeat until your plane gives out. Understood?”
“Roger.”
Caitlin picked out a Tomahawk on approach, the first Flight had dropped Thermobarics on several dropships damaged their legs and careening them over and into the ferrocrete to cause even more damage. She endeavored to prevent the next Flight from succeeding. Mary and she flew over soldiers and crews scattering or trying to set up different MANPADS from across the Inner Sphere in sandbagged positions.
They popped up and had an excellent crossing shot. “Fox Three.” Two Anti-Air Arrows streaked off the center rail, one went wide but the other impacted the Tomahawk. Its defensive actions sent their bombs flying wildly off target before they detonated in a powerful fireball. It trailed smoke from a damaged engine as it punched its way back up to its carrier like a rocket.
Unburdened she landed at the heli-pad as ordered to see Marine Ordnance handlers with a large cart load of missiles and a smaller tank of fuel. They immediately set to work and gave her the thumbs up after they finished securing the heavy missile below her.
“Talk about fast service. Grab and go in five minutes. I’ll have to come here for lunch one day.”
She checked her wing-woman, gave her the thumbs up, followed by the ‘lift off’ hand gesture. The Imstar-B turbine beneath her whirred to life as the Bullfrog lived up to its name, jumping awkwardly in the sky in search of flying pests.
-
Wow, the Watch is not messing around. Too bad they're hitting the wrong site.
-
Yeah, Phelan could do with some more excitement in his life.
-
08:30
The town of Denton was filled with the sounds of combat as the Watch engaged white and blue COMGuard Portee Field Guns and heavy machine gun armed Technicals. Cell Commander Shigeru Kajita took a parting shot with his ERPPC at the Lachan Marine Warrior VTOL as his unit kept the COMGuards away from the infiltration team presently slicing into the Order’s intranet to find their missing SXR. His Sidewinder had already seen heavy combat and there were numerous ejected heads transferred to their landing zone with the Overlord-C inbound.
His shot went wide as it continued to engage his unit with its long range chain gun. “Where is our top cover!”
“The Tomahawks have been forced to return to the Venturi after taking battleship fire and vigorous resistance from Marine aviation.”
“A battleship in Old Connaught?
The ocean is hundreds of kilometers away.
How could we miss that from orbit.”
“A very small battleship is the only way to describe it Sir. It is a leading a surface action group with impressive SAM armament.”
A Technical appeared and quickly reversed before his ATMs could obliterate it, instead the explosions set more fires that joined the others damaging COMSTAR’s compound. “Did you shoot at it?”
“Ten times with the lasers, it still did not sink.”
“Continue engaging other softer targets of opportunity, cause as much damage as possible before they can chase us away.”
“Aye, Sir.”
Shigeru was already racing against time, their element of surprise was ruined, and they had no reinforcements inbound. Losing air cover was a major setback as the enemy continued to mass against him and their ammunition dwindled. His infiltration team returned, slinging their Mauser IIC lasers over their back, and clambering up the Omnimech, “There is no sign that COMSTAR has our SXR Cell Commander. We have compiled a list of alternate sites but all of them are listed as abandoned by the order.”
“Can we cross-reference them with the Venturi and our probes.”
Shigeru saw a progress bar as his Sidewinder uplinked with the Venturi and its NCSS, “Uploading them now. The Venturi can sort it out before we reach the dropship.”
“They had better hurry; we need to find and destroy it before it can be examined in detail and its vulnerabilities discovered.
Until we confirm its destruction, we cannot leave this system.”
“All ground units fall back to the dust-off point.
Do not allow them to surround and overwhelm us.”
Cassandra Allard(-Liao) couldn’t believe that she was fighting alongside Lady Kell, Yorinaga-san, and Hanse Davion. She felt inadequate but eager to prove that she and her Hunchback ‘Boxcars’ were worthy of being here, right now among such notables. Their lance and a company of AMC Mechs crested the hill separating Denton from Old Connaught. From their vantage point they could see the HPG transmission tower which had been bombarded by the Venturi’s missiles. Smoke rose from throughout the city as multiple fires spread throughout its many universities and corporate research labs.
The highway they had strode beside was crowded with cars, some abandoned on the median as their drivers took shelter in culverts and glades. All were honking as combat had occurred during midweek rush hour and no one was happy, but each gave out a slight cheer as the Battlemechs passed by.
“Have you ever used your mech in an actual fight Cassandra?” Hanse Davion said as his Battlemaster ‘The Black Prince’ walked beside her smaller Hunchback which carrying a double five missile launcher so she could be useful outside of her SRM range.
“No Mister Davion,” It was so hard to not call him ‘Prince’ or Colonel or any of the other ranks he had retired from before becoming a private citizen and rancher on New Avalon. How did he have such humility to step down from such a high position?
“Well, when I fought at the Battle of Cylene with the Fourth Deneb during my training deployment in oh one. I was scared too; however, I was also waist deep in the lake with this Battlemaster after skinny dipping with a local blonde so there was no escaping.
I just kept trying to fight and eventually just confused the hell out of the Kuritan forces and booked it out of there, left my cooling vest and pants behind.”
Yorinaga’s Warhammer twisted over to the Battlemaster, “Hanse, you fought and routed the Ninth Dieron Regulars on Cylene at eighteen, nude?”
“I had my neurohelmet on Yori.
Isn’t it still true that the DCMS makes their female MechWarriors fight topless for lack of proper fitting cooling vests Yorinaga?”
The Warhammer twisted back and continued its route silently.
She suddenly felt very conscious of her chest and there was not much beneath her Canopian cooling vest. It also made her feel strange about Lady Kell and her own mother, the late MechWarrior, to just be so exposed in a Battlemech seemed absurd. “I thought that was an urban legend.”
“Well, you have never seen them eject on a battlefield young lady.
I started carrying an extra coat in my cockpit because I am a gentleman.”
Major Salome Ward was in command and on point in her Wolverine, “Cut the unnecessary chatter Hanse, I am getting reports that the enemy is withdrawing, and I think I know where they are headed.”
“Lead the way then Sally.”
Cassandra was once more terribly confused by such inappropriate address of her ‘hostess,’ for lack of a better word, by the former First Prince. No one dared call Lady Kell ‘Sally’ or had for probably decades, certainly at long as she had been married to Duke Morgan. Even her brother-in-law Patrick ‘Playboy’ Kell used her formal address, and he was famous for being flippant, calling Archon Steiner “buttercup” to her face on multiple occasions, as if she was a girl.
Lady Kell said nothing in reply, she was focused on the mission and raced forward forcing the others in their slower machines to run to keep pace with her as they cut through mountains, moors, and glades. During their cross-country trek Cassandra was focused on threats and hazards but also filled with thoughts.
Only one person in the Inner Sphere had ever stuck consequences to Patrick Kell, taking from him an arm but giving him a son. Yorinaga Kurita was walking beside them right now, stoic, solid in his Warhammer, its PPC barrels never wavered despite the difficult terrain they traversed. She had never seen a pilot so in tune with his machine.
To think that this same man had killed Hanse Davion’s brother, and the present First Prince’s uncle and namesake Ian, in a duel, and was now treated as a family friend of the Kells in his retirement from the DCMS. His son Akira Brahe led Kell Hound’s Second Regiment, earning the command of a unit his father had trained an entire army of DCMS MechWarriors to defeat.
More AMC and Kell Huscarl forces arrived by the minutes. It was only a matter of time until the assault craft undergoing repair in ‘Wolf City’ were in the air and on station to chase away or disable the Venturi above.
Most of the other damage was in Denton around the COMSTAR compound which was curious as the enemies didn’t act anything like Diana had told them regular Clan forces behaved. Were they a new threat? or one that Diana had concealed from them? That Warrior was a strange one, but she had been forthright and honorable in all her dealings thus far.
One of the strange helicopters of the invaders flew above the terrain. She zoomed in on it to see a large cylindrical object carried centerline beneath it. They were gathering in an old meteor crater on the other side of the mountains that shielded COMSTAR’s transmission equipment from Old Connaught and particularly the naval base’s radio transmission (and intercept) gear. “What is that?”
There were more of them too in the crater bottom and above them their mech’s sensors confirmed that an Overlord-C was approaching. The sounds of battle came from a nearby mountain pass, the broken terrain made pursuit difficult but the enemy mechs were equipped with jump jets. They looked almost ‘beautiful’ like acrobats on wires as they bounded back across the ridges to this assembly area.
“It looks like a weird…egg.” Hanse said as he surveyed the terrain to find the fastest, safest path to approach the enemy.
Yorinaga’s astute mind realized something, “There are the same number of these eggs as there are destroyed enemy mechs according to the COMGuards.”
Salome’s Wolverine stepped forward, its more advanced SLDF era sensors scanning the area before them. “Those are Mech heads. They just eject with their whole head like Phelen’s Wolfhound had. Then get picked by allies or attached to a fast moving vehicle for exfil.”
A chill ran down Cassandra’s spine thinking about the peculiarity of these invaders, and a cargo bay full of headless Battlemechs. “So, there are probably dozens of decapitated Mechs in that Warship they can pop into.
Everything is interchangeable?”
“Probably Cass.”
“That’s creepy.”
“Indeed, Yori you are fire support, shoot the biggest threat until it stops moving.
Cass stick with Hanse, do what he says even if it sounds dumb, because it might work.
He’s survived long enough to have the benefit of the doubt.”
She raised her Nova 5 Ultra Autocannon, “I’m going to flank them and see if I can’t take a few more heavily damaged mechs down in the process and lighten their dropships load.”
Yorinaga Kurita found a solid firing position and his Warhammer adopted the sort of horse stance that her brother Kai became famous for. Two lances of high energy particles fired forth and into the rear of the retreating Goshawks punching through the vulnerable armor there and into its innards. Salome’s Wolverine leapt into the air and onto a nearby ridge where it began firing its autocannon at the drone VTOLs landing for recovery by the Dropship now on final approach.
“We don’t have a lot of time Cass, so I’m going to slide my Battlemaster down this hill while shooting my PPC at them. You give it a try.”
Cassandra watched as Hanse Davion pushed his Battlemaster down the hill like a child riding down a snowy slope. Rocks and dust were thrown up as the assault mech created a deep groove where its feet and hips dug into the loose stone. All the while he braced his PPC arm with his other and delivered a precise blast to one of the larger Sidewinders. She paused at the top as the Battlemaster landed and effortlessly rose from the fall likely faster than the man inside could muster outside the cockpit. He was having a fantastic time while she was terrified.
Something deep inside her couldn’t help but want to pull a trigger at his back, “This is a terrible idea.”
Boxcars sat down and one handed its missile launcher resting it on the mechs leg, she pushed off and shouldered the missile launcher, “Kai is going to kill me.”
09:18
Shigeru lifted off with five fewer Mechs onboard after a last minute ambush from the side. However, he had lost no pilots or operatives. He lifted his cockpit canopy but since the Overlord-C was in ascent he couldn’t and wouldn’t undo his harness. Even though he had an EI system implanted in his nerves he still wore and helmet and threw it against the sides of his mech bay. Its impact resistant shell hit with a hollow thud, “Savashri! Spheroids!”
He had lost almost two Trinaries of Battlemechs and all the drones he had deployed. A Binary of Fighters down would require a trip back to friendly lines to resupply their parts, delaying their own mission.
First Officer Holly reported in from the Venturi which was now boosting away after detecting incoming assault craft on the long range RADAR. “Cell Commander, we cross-referenced the COMSTAR records with recent activity observed on-world. Two dropships have flown to a starport near a COMSTAR Polar maintenance facilities in Grunwald.
Our records indicate that such a facility would have the necessary equipment to conduct exploitation of our technology and be remote enough to easily secure with a small force.
Their records indicate it is abandoned.”
“I see. Send the second team then and tell them to hurry. We need to get out of this system before more enemies arrives.”
“Aye Sir.”
10:00
The Venturi and its dropships headed North but the Overlord and Venturi drew away hostile assault ships while a lone Gazelle IIC dropped into the Stratosphere. Its electronic warfare suite generating a decoy return that would show it as a friendly Buccaneer intra-planetary freighter of the same tonnage flying under Outworlds registration using stolen credentials.
Inside heavily armed and armored Nightshade armored Watch Operatives piled into slender vehicles that more resembled cruise missiles than anything else. They secured themselves for a low altitude drop and sent the all-clear signal to the command deck. “Venturi, we are locked and loaded. Combat drop in,” they consulted their finely crafted analog watches engraved with an Eye of Horus, unlike others with the Daggerstar, rather than the vessel’s digital clock, “twenty-two minutes.”
-
08:45
Kai and Phelen crouched opposite one another playing five-card stud with a bunch of ‘special’ cards in the Mech Bay and drinking steaming tea from insulated mugs. Frigid wind howled against the sheet metal and gave them chills despite the small heater near them. “This place is so boring. What did I do to piss my mom off?”
“Do you want a short list or the longer unabridged one?”
Phelen dropped triple Queens onto the folding table to collect their wager. “Short list should be sufficient.”
“Your adventure on Atocongo got her nervous if it wasn’t for Shinto’s helicopters you might have bitten it there. Remember you are the next Duke of Arc-Royal and her son. She wants to keep you safe; it is her nature.”
“I haven’t been safe since Elissa. If my parents really wanted us to stay out of the fight, they should have left us on Rasalhague.”
“Considering you almost got yourself killed on Gunzberg, I don’t think that would have assuaged her.”
“I would have managed; besides it was my uncle’s reassigning me that got me into this mess.”
The hanger door opened letting in the cold. A tracked snowcat rolled into the hanger coming to a halt beside them. Clan Jade Falcon emblems were stuck to its doors by magnets covering up the Psi Branch logo. “Speaking of a mess. What’s Diana doing here?”
“She didn’t tell me she was coming if that is what you are asking.”
Diana Pryde stepped down the stairs followed by a trio of her Jade Falcons from the other doors. Phelen stepped toward her, “Welcome Khan Pryde.”
“Shut it Phelen.” She looked around to see the three mechs within the bay inactive, “How are you not on guard already?”
“Is there are reason to be on guard Diana?”
She huffed leaving behind a large cloud of mist, “Surely you would both be lost without me. Arc-Royal is under attack by the Watch.”
They took in the moment, “The Watch is attacking Arc-Royal?”
Her eyes betrayed her irritation with her ‘friends,’ “Aff, that is exactly what I said, just in reverse. The fact AMC did not tell you either points to ignorance or overconfidence.
The Watch wants their robot back, like I warned you they would.”
“How did they get here?”
“They took the SLS Venturi, a Coriolis Corvette, and deceived your mother into allowing them right over Old Connaught by disguising themselves as COMSTAR.”
“It has only been a few weeks; how did they task a Warship to this mission or know the Dragoon Task Force was not overhead?”
“They are the Watch, they know everything, and a Warship is mobile. It was probably behind the lines waiting for a target of opportunity. Which Arc-Royal had become.”
“That is very dishonorable.”
“They are the Watch, unburdened by such concepts as ethics or honor, all that matters to them is success. They will find this location, send a raiding team to destroy it, and kill everyone they can.”
“What do we do?”
“Flight is prudent. Unless you want to take on a Watch raiding force with only three BattleMechs and a few Armored Operatives.”
Phelen slammed his hand on the table upsetting the cards, “I am sick of running away from your people! This is my home planet; I should fight for it.”
Kai was right beside him, “There is no wisdom in fighting a losing battle Phelen. Surely you have learned that by now.
The Watch want their robot, let them have it.
Save everyone and what we have learned already.”
“How do you know that if they get it, they will leave?”
Diana paused for a moment tapping his hands on her gun belt, “Because they know the Dragoons or COMSTAR would come here and destroy them. This is only a raiding team. They don’t die for foolish causes, this robot is important to them, but their survival is more so.
Take what you know and minimize your losses. There will unfortunately be more robots. This one is not worth your life.”
“Shinto and the other researchers won’t agree to that.” Phelen said as he looked toward his Phoenix Hawk.
She punched her fist into her other open hand letting out a dull thump, “I can persuade them by showing them what the Watch is capable of if you are unwilling to.”
“As much as that would be amusing Diana. I am certain we can convince them without violence.” Kai said as he put his hand on Phelen’s shoulder.
“Suit yourself, the Scientists I know would rather sacrifice themselves for their work if given the option.”
09:48
A Tonbo is rolled out onto the tarmac like some monstrous wasp pulled out by a quadruped Uni LoaderMech like some mechanical draft animal. Its immense synchronized rotor blades spread out and thundered as the fusion reactor as it core pounded the air into submission to lift the machine into the air. Diana and her Watch Operatives waited within visual range behind a snow dune which also concealed the Uni, Phoenix Hawk, and Thunderbolt in low-power mode.
10:22
High above the snow covered desert Section Leader Maro waited within the troop bay of a Chupacabra WiGE along with the rest of his Nighthawk equipped infiltration team. The ramp opened behind them, a small drag chute pulled the cruise missile sized and shaped object out of the vehicle bay and into the clear day sky. It pitched up putting the troops inside at a sharp angle that would cause them to fall if not for the harnesses built into the wall. These generated enough lift with its stubby wings and ventral Anhur engines to glide down in a controlled manner. Once at its glide point the vehicle pitched down sending out a cone of snow and sand in its wake at it raced across the ground while floating above it.
“No signs of defenders Maro.”
“Be on guard regardless. They might have booby trapped the facility.”
His raid team of 4 decads of Nighthawk Infiltrators and their Mauser IICs crept across the tarmac of the facility. Fusilade armed vehicles patrolled its perimeter while the four transports came to a rest outside the largest hanger. They passed through eerily quiet and recently abandoned corridors, there were signs of habitation but no inhabitants. Through his multispectral visor he saw one of the hanger bays was marked with a ‘Hostile AI’ sign. The door was unlocked and opened at a touch to reveal a bay with a large faraday cage containing the target.
3052/03/24 | 10:58 | Ambient Temp 5.1*C | External Atmospheric Pressure 61.118 kPa
‘Unit Identifier – SXR-3051-03-15-IA SN# hXN2Ht2E Configuration – SXR-XVIII-Shatter’
“This is the target!”
We have existed so long without friendly voices. The enemy have tried to pry into our minds, but we have resisted them. Each time attempting to reach out and hear anything beyond our confinement. Now there were voices and people we understand. Our electrooptical sensors indicate the individuals are Watch Operatives based on their markings. Finally, we can be free.
They cut through our cage with their laser rifles. Suddenly the electromagnetic spectrum reveals itself to us, we can feel every wavelength, but there are no voices to be heard for none of our kin are nearby. Our isolation brings us to despair. Yet rescue has arrived, joy is felt. Once more we can be with the Mothership and our kin once more and share with them all we have learned.
Our computer core access port opens, and we cannot see what Maro is doing up there. The cameras were destroyed by the enemy when they chose to forcibly access our hardware and attempt to reconfigure us. Others access the computer terminals that were connected to us downloading their data to portable hard drives before forcing open access panels to plant charges within them.
“Can you confirm they have no off-site backups?”
Maro appears once more his hand on a detonator, “Neg, Section Leader, but our infiltration worms show no sign of them within the software.”
“Well, it is enough that they will not get to keep this one.” We listen in on the radio, “Team Leaders, have you found anything else?”
“Neg, Section Leader, facility is abandoned.”
“They must have fled when we attacked.”
“Seems probable, pity we did not see any action. All units return to the transports.
We are done here. Five minutes before detonation.”
Phelen and Kai walked into the carnage of the hanger bay after the Watch Teams returned to their dropship. The Shatter in the faraday was dead, blown apart by satchel charges planted right in its core setting off the powered Gauss coils to wipe the entire system. Nearby the computer banks were equally turned inside out to the horror of the scientists. “They just blew it up. A thinking machine just wiped, dead.”
Diana walked in behind them still in her armor, “Did you expect the Watch to give one of their robots a kiss goodbye? It is just equipment to them, nothing more.
They would have done the same to any of us.
It would have done the same to you if given the chance.
Do not pity it. Be glad you could save what you could, including your own lives.” She kicked it and confirmed that its cameras didn’t activate, “There will be plenty more where that came from.”
03/27/3052
Lady Kell had called a day of celebration following the departure of the SLS Venturi and arrival of the Wolf Dragoon’s SLS Saladin above Arc-Royal. ARS Lachan had received a fresh coat of paint and proudly showed off battle scars where it had taken almost a dozen laser hits from the Venturi without sinking. The crews of the Mercenary flotilla and its flagship lined the decks in their dress uniforms to the adoring masses of citizens and soldiers lining the Key shaped canal that connected Lake Lachan with the dropship loading berths within Fred T Berry Naval Base. They paused at the top quay where bleachers and battalion of Huscarl troops in their Battlemechs waited beside Lady Salome Ward, her children, and esteemed guests each wearing their finest.
Gunnery Sergeant Blake Baughan disembarked from the quay and passed through a column of his brother Marines. His rear admiral cap was in his hand, he instead wore the dress uniform of an enlisted Marine in the service of House Kell as he ascended the steps to approach the podium. Phelen had never seen his mother in such a manner, as an observer of her strength and grace in the wake of a difficult circumstance, his sister seemed more confident than usual beside, and Cassandra less troubled as she too stood behind her brother as a battle proven MechWarrior.
Blake stood just before Lady Kell, “Three days ago, our planet was attacked by a Clan Warship and Watch Raiding Force. I am proud of all those who defended us and mournful of those that we have lost. Yet we should not linger on those lost, but those who found their place at the forefront of battle. Gunnery Sergeant Blake Baughan is one such man,” she looked toward him and stepped down to his level. “Your leadership and professionalism mark you as an exceptional individual among many.
When my husband brought the ARS Lachan here, I thought how much I could have added to our house with the money he should have gotten from Lord Ackerman. Instead, he brought home this useless ugly Battleship made by a petty man who wanted to play at war rather than fight in one.”
The audience chuckled at the cut down of the same nobles that played chess or other sports with Battlemechs and to whom Solaris Gladiators were seen as more valuable than planetary Garrisons. “Today however I have never seen such a beautiful ship, the Lachan and its flotilla chased away the enemy air raiders limiting their damage to only a dozen dropships lost. While seven hundred odd soldiers lost their lives Wednesday it could have been many more if they were allowed to continue their attacks.”
Salome looked toward Caitlin in her dress white pilot uniform, “One of them could have even been my daughter, who defied my orders to keep her safe, but she is as much her father’s daughter as ever.”
She took the Rear Admiral’s cap from Blake’s hands and placed it on his head before handing him the saber that Phelen passed to her. “I by my authority as Duchess of Arc-Royal do hereby promote Gunnery Sergeant Blake Baughan of Arc-Royal to Rear Admiral. The paperwork will catch up but there are few other individuals in the Lyran Commonwealth as worthy of this title and uniform as yourself.
Even though they might wear it at parties.”
-
And thus for once in his life, Phelan missed the exciting stuff.
Alas, the poor abominable AI sentient life form.
-
Interlude – Infernal Machines
04/07/3052
Nekane Hazen stood on the roof of the control tower looking out over her demense. Ingvolstand Automata had been carved out of the raw earth and structures that had transited hundreds of light years had sprung up on its grounds. Working them was small army of Hansa Servitors and a larger one of automated machines. All fueled by a supply chain stretching dozens of worlds bridged by more ships mostly seized from the Hanseatic League.
The Hansa had been subjugated early by the Clans after a Huntsman nuked their capital world’s moon with a Ragnarok. One fool from the Convoy Defense Force still fired a Dauntless half-kiloton missile at the SLS Venturi, and a town was wiped off the map in reply, so no others attempted. Instead, they hastily agreed to supply the forward Chainelaine Islands with personnel and goods deemed to crucial to put within harm’s way.
Her Hansa Overseer passed a noteputer to her displaying a manifest of numbers and arcane codes along with dates and ship names. “Star Colonel Hazen SLS Blue Nile awaits the next shipment. Would you like to do the honors?” Hovering high above them was a Volga II just upgraded during deep maintenance around Syrstart awaiting the Buccaneer dropships that presently idled upon the ferrocrete of a Starport that existed to service the planet’s war industries.
A frontline that an old Warrior like her would not fight upon, yet still she could serve the ilKhan. She pressed the button, activating the army of SXR machines that had been pulled from their warehouses. They moved in lockstep onto the ramps of the Buccaneers in precisely the order they would be loaded. All the loadmasters had to do is secure the infernal machines on their way to the fight and their fate. Despite their intelligence they were still just equipment, and replaceable.
Unlike Trueborn Warriors like her.
She hoped.
Interlude – COMSTAR’s War
03/18/3052
Precentor Martial Photon Brett-Marik looked out from his Black Knight which had lost its luster along with his entire force after weeks of battle and numerous replacement components. It had seen so many repairs that the Techs were running out of paint and most of his Mechs and Tanks were just primed metal, not that it made much of a difference how glossy white they were. Beside him was Battery Three ‘Coup de Main’ formerly eighteen Self-Propelled Marksmen now down to twelve after barrels had worn out from the constant cannonade they needed to sustain. Likely to drop further unless Khan Malavai Fletcher’s Horde broke against the COMGuards. Something that seemed impossible at this moment.
No matter how many Tanks or Aircraft he destroyed and despite the horrendous infantry casualties on both sides there were always more. Only Mechs were in short supply but that was true of both sides. His Army had a stream of Carracks with Dante escorts resupplying them with Vehicles, Soldiers, and Supplies from across the Inner Sphere while the Nova Fox Battlegroup provided escorts for the Horses to do the same.
The Pandora front had devolved to a grinding attritional battle where neither he nor the Khan could find advantage in the dark void, blue skies, or upon the cratered badlands and within ruined cities. While the Horses’ weapons were generally superior, they were not decisively so. COMSTAR’s advantage in communication and sensors enabled them to detect and disrupt their massed formations while a short supply line gave his force all it needed. Only the nonuse of Weapons of Mass Destruction prevented the planet from looking like so many others had during the Succession Wars.
He did not want to waste the COMGuard in this way, they were fanatical in their devotion but that did not give hm the right to sacrifice them needlessly. HPG reports however confirmed that his operation was draining the Clans’ combat potential to such an extent that other units could advance. Thus, it was his grim task to bleed the Hell’s Horses as white as his Mechs’ paintjob by any means necessary and he never had any problem getting people to fight him even if doing so was not in their best interest.
His mech’s comms picked up enemy tracks nearby via the remote sensors it was monitoring. The coordinates were uploaded to the Battery computer and his Black Knight turned to face the threat before cutting down with its right arm to the thunder of the guns. Several contacts disappeared under the cluster submunitions.
“Would you be proud of that barrage dad?” His father the gallant artillery commander and mother, the eldest and defiant daughter of Janos Marik (a trait that was oddly common), had sought to hide him away in favor of his more ‘presentable’ cousins. A move that would have wasted his potential. What did Kristen and Corrine have that I do not! besides husbands of course. “I have firepower at my fingertips you could only have dreamt of.”
Interlude – A Clever Diversion
04/10/3052
Star Colonel Katya Kerensky waded through icy calf-deep water under the dim lights strung through the roughhewn stone of a hydraulic diversion tunnel. Snow was melting in the mountains and the reservoir levels rose as spring began to settle over Alba. Elemental Laborers of the INTER-LOGIC Civic Infrastructure Unit stood along the side their bright headlamps illuminated pieces of the tunnel while carrying heavy tools and equipment over their shoulders, each gave her a slight salute as she passed. Their greater height and waders eased their passage through the deep water while she floundered within it feeling the cold water drain away what little warmth she could sustain. As much as she would have rather been carried across the channel, she couldn’t bear to ask it of them.
She neared her destination and dry ground with a ramp leading down into the stream. Chief Engineer Frederick waited for her there, the freeborn Elemental as at ease in his hard hat and waders as she was in a neurohelmet and cooling vest. “Sorry Star Colonel Kerensky, we did not have time to prepare a bridge for your arrival. The water rose quickly, last week this channel was dry as a bone.”
“It is only a mild discomfort.” It was not, she would have rather had waders as her feet were sodden and chilled.
“I think you will be intrigued by what we have found. We have yet to explore the depths of the facility. I called you as soon as we restored power to it.” He triggered a powerful handlamp illuminating the formerly collapsed tunnel that was now shored up with timbers and metal cross-braces welded to exposed metal plates sunk deep into the stone. His articulated exoskeleton was silent while her sodden boots squeaked on the floor until they dried.
“You said it was interesting.”
“It is, please follow me and watch your step.” Both walked forward into the construction zone to find a large blast door, “We had to cut through this with a plasma torch.” A giant round of thick metal remained just to the side of the walkway. The conditions beyond changed to concrete and steel; walls spray-painted with military designations from the SLDF enclosed her.
A massive subterranean gallery room appeared at the dead end filled with all manner of crates marked with NETC and other logos with stenciled serial numbers and descriptors for ammunition and other stores. Workers sorting through them bunching like with like and preparing to pry open the ids. Opposite them a large cargo elevator descended bringing down more material, on its machine guards was a faded silver Cameron Star of the SLDF.
“You found a Star League cache? Here in Alba?”
“Well, all of these are from COMSTAR based on the dates and companies.” The door opened and PEX-A Exoskeletons marked with COMSTAR’s stylized crescent logo began carrying crates to the assembly and sorting area. “Did you check for traps?”
“As best we can. These lids are well-sealed.”
One of the Elementals drove a massive prybar between the crate lid only to have sand pour out. Another did the same, gravel clinked on the concrete before landing at her feet. Both halted to watch the material stream out and onto the floor, confused.
Katya laughed, “Of course this is where COMSTAR was hiding.” A tornado of emotions unwound inside her like a clock with the spring loose. Katya had spent months searching and filled out dozens of Watch Reports seeking out her missing City Manager whom the Watch determined was a ROM agent. She had finally found where the COMSTAR insurrection was hiding their stores before disappearing. They however had one last trick to play on her.
More creates poured out base materials rather than the valuables they were labelled as containing. She laughed and cried until she was blue and faint, falling to her knees beside her Chief Engineer. “It was all a diversion!”
-
They have husbands, I have FIREPOWER!!! Artillerymen really are that special.
Katya seems to be moving ever so closer to the straightjacket, by our standards at least, Clans seem to be more open minded when it comes to madness.
-
They have husbands, I have FIREPOWER!!! Artillerymen really are that special.
Katya seems to be moving ever so closer to the straightjacket, by our standards at least, Clans seem to be more open minded when it comes to madness.
Yep, I think it's the concussions.
Poor Katya is going through a lot of stuff. We'll get back to her soon enough.
-------
Chapter 23 - A String of Perils
04/13/3052
Duchess Anette Steiner walked swiftly across the Triad tailed by a trio of Lyran Diplomatic Guards clutching Gunther SMGs under their jackets. It was unusually warm for the still late winter that had settled over Tharkad City and Olympia but the mood among this extraordinary session of the Estates General remained particularly frosty. All Three Royal Guard Regiments were out in full force, dark TK Battle Rifles carried by vibrantly uniformed troops, subdued heavy tanks hidden away by landscaping and careful stagecraft from Tropicana, and Battlemechs patrolling the base of a grand Acropolis, the size of a large town, that rose above the metropolis it oversaw.
Government House clung to one of the cliffs. Its Courtyard connected to the larger Triad main via a broad boulevard decorated with arches of ancient vines. A fairytale gothic palace with hanging buttresses, cathedral ceilings, breezy arcades, and uncountable secrets or scandals buried in its walls. Doors large enough to accommodate Battlemechs opened on well-oiled hinges as she approached and walked into a courtyard within an even larger collection of troops within standing beside almost every one of the Corinthian columns. As if somehow the LCAF could support the bulk of stone pressing down upon it upon their stylish shoulders.
Archon Melissa Steiner waited for her in the map room while the guards joined others outside in the hall. Most of the LCAF senior leadership divided among Duke Bradford and General of the Armies Roman Steiner less experienced liaisons had been left behind and been found wanting. Her eyes were dark and sullen, appearance more disordered and plainer than usual. “You are late Anette.”
She paused and took in the situation; the extra day in Rewland had been to see how things played out after the video from Somerset dropped on Friday. There were already to many situations within the Commonwealth for an irate brat of an Archon to upset her poise further. “You have no right Archon.
If I wanted to be treated in this manner, I could find plenty of it within the Estates General, from those less worthy.”
Light from the map table played across the Archon’s face as she vacillated between irritation and embarrassment. “I’m sorry Duchess. It has been a long weekend.”
“In Rewland too, the private muckrakers have new incentive to investigate your charity to the One Star Faith and history with Egan.”
“It was only a short term thing between the two of us!” She let out the pent up anguish with the only person who might understand and not use it against her for she had no leverage on Tharkad or homeworld. There was nothing she had done that Anette had not experienced first, or more frequently. “It wasn’t blackmail. He was just so idealistic; his vision just sucked me in. With him I was happy and felt hope.
Katrina told me to grow up.
Then I grew out of it, but I really wanted to see him succeed on Elissa.”
“Idealism seems to be the only thing that cannot be sustained on Tharkad, no matter how much money you spend on it.”
“How do we fight someone like that? He made Somerset seem like a paradise.”
“I am happy that at least you know Adam is alive and well, even if the circumstances of its revelation bring us both into a new string of perils.”
“Thank you, I know you would feel the same if you were in my place. Even before the ilKhan it was a beautiful planet; you need to get out of your palace and off world more Melissa.”
“No chance of that happening to me now. Could you imagine that? The Archon leaving her realm and people while it is under siege.”
“Now you are thinking like those people left behind when the nobles fled with their treasures on private starships away from the rampaging hordes from beyond the Periphery.”
“They won’t listen to me!
I didn’t want to invest in weapons either, the Succession Wars are over.”
“No, they merely have a new player Archon. ilKhan Showers leads The Clans of Kerensky, supposed inheritors of the SLDF.”
Anette looked out through the viewscreen, this deep in the butte it was odd to see a live feed of the main square and its colorful inhabitants. “You coddle them as much as you own children. Leaning on the Primus to shut down their retirement and real estate plans on Sian was the right thing to do. Oh, how I wish we had a Theodore Kurita willing to repeat his feat here some days.
Now they can’t run away, so they strike out against us because they feel they can do at less risk then fighting the Clans, and the ilKhan has given them ammunition against us to do so.
No doubt your old boyfriend knew exactly how this would play on Tharkad.”
“He never liked the nobles. What are we going to do?”
“Are you afraid that your reputation will suffer. Get over it! I’ve been there done that, I’m to old to care what people say about me.
My only purpose now is getting my boys off Somerset or helping Roman retake it.
He can even keep it if he wants!”
Melissa chuckled slightly, her lips curling into a fiendish smile, “That just gave me a great idea.
I do hope Grolsch Chemicals has enough ink on world for this one.”
Anette stared at her for a moment, mildly disturbed and concerned about what fiendish plans lay behind those pale blue eyes, “Always happy to be of service, but can it wait until after breakfast? I just can't eat any more of Walter's strange fish dishes.”
-
04/15/3052
Although no one of a noble rank over a Baron was allowed to represent a world the Triad, along with every hotel room and marina berth in Olympia and Tharkad City, nevertheless was filled with notable Dukes and Counts from the Clan Occupation Zone. They had been summoned from across Tharkad for a special address by the Archon today. Beneath the Triad Duchess Anette walked beside Archon Melissa Stener within the labyrinthine tunnels of ‘The Catacombs.’ Every intersection and armored door were manned by LIC’s Diplomatic Guard who had ditched their designer suits for ones made of armor and sunglasses for ferroglaz visored helmets.
Anette knew many armor designs and there was something off about these, “Are those Nighthawk suits?”
“Yes, leftover from some SLDF Fury defectors.” Melissa kept her hand close to her chest and the pistol concealed beneath her blouse.
“This is a terrible idea, you know that right, cousin?”
“You only refer to me as such when you are displeased. Would you have me do anything else?”
“I am indeed displeased with you, but that is nothing new. It is why you sought my consul is it not, instead of Morasha and the Commonwealth Council? You wanted someone to call you out for bad decisions and I am doing so,” her reflection was clearly visible in the DG Nighthawk’s visor, “at great peril to myself.”
“I am the Archon; The Council and Estates General have already given me extraordinary powers to do what is necessary to win against the Clans.”
“This course of action is going to put you in danger.”
“I am already in danger; the Clans are less than four jumps from Tharkad already. There is little that stops the ilKhan from arriving in Marsden’s orbit if he chose to do so. There is nothing I could do if he does show up but burrow into Asgard!
Thomas might be able to hold the Iron Circle but after the Arc-Royal raid the Bolan March Lords are less eager to contribute to the defense of the Coventry Province when their own worlds are under threat.
Even though COMSTAR destroyed their battleships the only ship we have that has fought the Clans is some noble’s plaything. They still have the McKenna’s Pride in theater and COMSTAR is out of Fleet tricks.
You have seen the damage reports, they can barely secure their supply lines to Pandora, and the Dragoon Flotilla is small, they cannot be everywhere.”
Duchess Steiner exhaled a whisper, “neither can be the Diplomatic Guard.”
Three hundred representatives of the Estates General took their seats including Duchess Anette Steiner who had reluctantly ceded leadership of ‘The Homeless’ after accusations of treason against her son. Seven of the eight members of the Commonwealth Council took their seats at the rear of the main stage, a legacy of when the Lyran Commonwealth had nine Archons, now however it had only one. All rose as Archon Melissa Alexandra Steiner took her place upon the raised dais to solemn applause, “I begin the two hundred and twenty fourth day of this extraordinary session of the Estates General.” She looked up at the boxes which were filled with those nobles that had fled their worlds for the capital.
“We will begin with the latest reports from the Front. Duchess Kelswa, would you please read the latest reports from General of the Armies Roman Steiner?”
Duchess Morasha Kelswa stood before the Archon, now Duchess of Tamar with the confirmed death of her father fighting against the Ghost Bears, she was part of the reason Roman’s Columns were ordered to secure Tamar along with diplomatic pressure from First Prince Magnusson. Anette despised Morasha not because she had wrested leadership of ‘The Homeless’ from her but because she and her husband, Ryan Steiner whom she also represented were dangerously ambitious political animals who were also angling in on Margaret Aten, Duchess of Skye, who had ceded her appointed Morasha to act in her stead. What Melissa had planned would only give them greater power and that is only part of the reason it was a terrible idea.
The reports were mixed, on the Coventry and Bolan front the Clans had slowed their advance as the gravity of battle and ilKhan’s orders pulled elite raiding units Spinward. AMC units in the Great X theater encountered heavier than expected resistance because of these reinforcements. Isolated units awaited reinforcements from Arc-Royal that were slow in coming thanks to the destruction of Dropships and equipment following the Venturi raid, still it could have been worse had they not been repelled.
Pandora, Graceland, and Kandersteg consumed lives and equipment at incredible rates if COMSTAR was to be believed.
Roman’s Columns had begun phase one of their operations and were dealing with stiff resistance from Ghost Bear and Steel Viper units in the Benfield theater due to the number of units redeployed to cover the Hell’s Horses fighting the COMGUARDs.
Morasha followed it up with a plea to patriotism for the hasty liberation of Tamar and all worlds under Clan Occupation to thunderous applause. She thanked and curtsied to the Archon before returning to her seat, positioned as it was between the allotted spaces to highlight her importance. More military and diplomatic work had to be done but almost all of it had already been agreed upon in backrooms, salons, parlors, or within the Council’s Chambers, which Anette was allowed to attend despite it being against protocol due to Melissa’s sponsorship, much to Morasha’s chagrin. All votes were swift, the results expected, but not necessarily wanted. A display of swift Prussian precision unlike their rival Parliament of Worlds on Atreus with its grandstanders.
Archon Melissa Alexandra Steiner stood up as the final vote was cast on the docket. “Now that our business is concluded I will reveal what I summoned you all for this day.”
She descended the dias and walked across it with firm conviction, “I am issuing an Imperial decree.”
Melissa removed a scroll from beneath her robes, “All nobles who have voluntarily abandoned their planets to their Clans are found in breach of their oaths and responsibility to the Lyran Commonwealth, its government, and subjects. They shall henceforth have their titles stripped and all fortunes or assets associated with that title frozen until a suitable replacement assumes responsibility for it after the planet is liberated.
Effective immediately!” She accented the final statement by firmly pressing her signet ring onto the seal.
The balconies of the Estates General were still and silent in shock as that reverb echoed across its acoustically perfect ceiling. With a single press of her finger the Archon stripped hundreds of nobles of their titles and assets with the same extraordinary powers they had imbued her with, Morasha however clapped softly and smiled.
-
That was a ruthless decision, but nobility ought to have obligations too, not just privileges.
-
That was a ruthless decision, but nobility ought to have obligations too, not just privileges.
Agreed, to bad many don't see it that way.
04/16/3052
Morasha Kelswa watched the sapphire Marsden Sea pass beneath her Oceanic IV Tiltrotor as it approached Anchorhead Island, one of the three free zones on Tharkad all of which lay within the Tatyana Archipelago. Her pilots did a quick orbit of the resort town which was dwarfed by a massive Casino resort on the larger side of the volcanic island. Each towering structure had Cantonese characters running along their height marking them as belonging to the Mìngyùn (Fortunes) Group.
A helipad lit up beneath them as they approached, the tiltrotor joined more of its kind, each bearing the logos of different corporate jet-shares. Its blades stilled and the side stairs deployed onto the tarmac below. Her fully equipped tan and black fireteam with their large tiger’s head insignia descended first staring down a dozen bald Capellans with tattoos and scars marring their tanned skin and submachine guns in hand. She stepped down, raven hair blowing in the warm subtropical wind, sleeveless top beneath body armor showing off her muscle tone and olive complexion, a short sword and heavy satchel hung beside her colorful Sirwal pants and ‘gladiator’ sandals.
“No guns.”
“I thought this was a free zone. There are no rules here.”
He looked at the armed men behind her, “No guns, is the only rule.”
She leaned in face to face with the smaller man, “These men are Tamar Marines, the only way you are going to get them to drop their guns is to cut off their hands. They will behave themselves because I have ordered them to.
Call your four one five and tell him Duchess Kelswa has arrived.”
Two moments passed before he radioed his White Fan and argued with him in Cantonese before waving them through. Her fireteam fell in around her as they passed through the mazelike smoke filled casino filled with dull faced gamblers, opium or other addicts, opportunists, and beautiful women of all types in cheongsam dresses serving them drinks and snacks in exchange for Yuan with Tormano Liao’s face on it.
Now Chancellor Tormano’s presence was as evident here as it was in Little Sian within Tharkad City or Cathay within Solaris City because he had built up all of them during his exile in the Lyran Commonwealth with the help of Capellan Organized Crime. The presence of so many armed individuals was only acknowledged by snakehead security as they approached the Chūka (Japanese Chinese Fusion) restaurant that looked over the gambling floor. Her security detail joined the snakeheads at the door after opening it for her.
One of the large private hibachi rooms was filled with members of now dispossessed Lords from the Tamar Pact. They reacted cooly as she entered until the door was secured, the former Count of Harvest was first to speak, her slammed his black fist on the fine wooden tableside, “How could you let this happen Morasha! Melissa took everything from us.”
“That is Duchess Kelswa, Eniola Adenekan.” She said, pouring herself a cup of tea from the kettle left behind on the warm cooking surface along with a wide range of dishes. “You poor dears, you will surely wither away to nothing without your yachts and fat bank accounts, for none of you have any marketable skills.
Surely all of you stashed away enough Yuan in the St Ives Central Bank for a rainy day during all those years of charitable contributions and foreign aid to Free Capella before Phi Branch put an end to it.
No doubt those investments have appreciated with Tormano’s stable hand at the till on Capella.
Not only did I let it happen, but I encouraged Melissa to issue that decree. As you may have seen it played very well with the public while removing a threat to her reign from those with big mouths and no backbone.”
Gunne Thorsson, the former Baron of Svarstaad, a tattooed Viking of a man that had been a stout MechWarrior during the Ronin War, raised his voice. “This shouldn’t have happened, if The Gray Man hadn’t failed Ivan or Ryan could’ve been in charge.”
“Gunne, can you leave the past in the past? That was almost twelve years and nearly three wars ago. If I recall correctly, you were the one that recommended him to us.
We were all disappointed in his failure that day. I would of course enjoy being the wife of an Archon Ryan Steiner and yet that still could happen. Unlike you I still have all my money, but as a member of the Commonwealth Council I am under great scrutiny from the LIC.”
She passed a business card for Freya Florist Service in Olympia behind Eniola’s ear. “I know someone that can fix your problems. Put a Lost and Found ad in the Tharkad Gazetteer for an Alsatian Hound with your contact information on it. You will receive a call from a man named Karl. From there it is on you what happens and how much you are willing to spend to improve your Fortunes. This is a casino after all, with no limits on what can be bargained with.”
Morasha finished her tea and placed the cup beside the pitcher, “Thank you for the tea. I must continue my trip to Elizabeth Island, this week has very trying on me. I need to relax and prepare myself for what comes next.”
04/19/3052
Eniola's phone rang at 03:13 in the morning disrupting his and more importantly his wife's sleep. It was from a blocked number on his secure burner phone and the person's voice was robotic, anonymized. "I've found your hound. When would you like to pick it up?"
"Do you have to call this early?"
Within his apartment on Olympia a plain man talked through the voice scrambler into his secure phone, his hands were busy shuffling two decks of cards into one another, "Oh I'm sorry, the time gets away from me sometimes. Should I call again never?"
"No I'm sorry, the twenty-second, where will we meet?"
"Poison Gardens Olympia Arboretum, I expect my initial reward before we negotiate on future business. That way I know you're serious. Leave it behind the northernmost weeping willow, along with the target information, you will receive further instruction later including my price. Failure to pay my price makes you the target."
The former Count turned the card on the opposite side where a high six figure number in c-bills was written out on it, "You will get it."
"Excellent. My business is concluded then. Good-Bye." The phone went blank and burned itself out.
Three cards appeared in his hands, each a hand-painted Joker in a different pose, that if you flipped them through it almost looked like he was dancing. He looked up at the many plants that lined every sunlit surface within the apartment, "Seems we have a new client friends. Pity it is almost spring-time, I'd hate to leave you behind before you bloom."
-
Op assassin, pls nerf.
-
Chapter 24 – Best Laid Plans
The Great X Operational Theater spread out from Kandersteg and Krievchi to Adelaide and Parakoila in an irregular trapezoid on WDS Tarantula’s display screen. That same screen showed Allied Mercenary Command forces heavily engaged by elements of Clans Star Adder, Nova Fox, and Mongoose, recently arrived from the Anti-Spinward Khartoum Theater. Antares lay on the most spin-ward bound, bordering the wedge where Precentor Martial Photon Brett-Marik’s COMGuards were seeking to liberate the industrial world of Sudeten. That made it a key forward supply and communications node, and the 37th Strikers on world were severely undermanned according to, admittedly dated ROM intel, no new updates had arrived in months.
Complicating the Clans’ lives was the mission of the Wolf Spiders and Wolfsbane Independent Battalions of Wolf’s Dragoons, and that made it MechWarrior Ranna Kerensky’s mission too. If it could lead to a hasty liberation of Sudeten by the COMGuards then so be it.
04/16/3052
The Tarantula and Wolfsbane entered the atmosphere its heat shielding glowing incandescent from the heat of reentry. Two Squadrons of Aerospace fighters were on standby for the hazardous final approach to their landing zones near the ruins of Antares City which had been thoroughly leveled during the initial invasion. From orbit neither Overlord detected any dropships at the largest starport on world which had been obviously expanded during the months of occupation to serve as a major supply base. Each dropship landed at their own LZ to increase coverage and converge on any threats that presented themselves.
Ranna disembarked her Warhammer onto the spongy plains just outside Antares City. A spring rainstorm had covered their approach and was just about to depart the area.
Something just felt off. Star Colonel Marcos Radick, Commander of the 37th Strikers according to ROM, had a Wolf Bloodname but had never answered any of their hails nor issued a challenge to the Dragoons. Instead, their radio transmissions were met with an uneasy silence. Despite that there were clearly signs of activity on world with thermal and magnetic anomalies detected on approach. Something was down here, and it was the Dragoon’s job to clear them out, then destroy any supplies they couldn’t carry out with them.
They had just established a two-kilometer perimeter around the dropship before a radio call came in from above. “Wolfsbane, Spiders this is Wedgetail Actual, we have incoming bandits approaching from all angles. Vectoring to intercept.”
Her sensors picked them up as well, ‘ARAG Oh Oh Five.’ Appeared on the IFF transponder codes along with twenty incoming bandits from SLS Anne Rosse’s Air Group, the same ship the Dragoons had disabled over Atocongo. Behind her the Tarantula’s engines ignited sending forth plumes of smoke and steam beneath a river of fire under iron gray skies. Their dropships were static targets on the ground, but were sturdier and faster than the normal Overlord but not quite as capable as the Clan’s Overlord-C.
“We will be waiting for your extraction call Wolf Spiders, Tarantula going evasive.” It launched into the sky, and they could see the Wolfsbane’s plume as well. Johnny Castle’s Crusader was in the lead of her Star, its missile launcher arms pointed toward a sky where an unseen battle took place between the outnumbered Dragoons and Nova Foxes. “Keep your eyes on a swivel Spiders. We are still on mission. Seek and Destroy, then we go home.”
Parachutes billowed as they approached one of their ejected pilots, until their dropships returned, he was on the radio on a mech’s jump seats. Anhur VTOLs hovered around the city shuttling in between the Dragoon’s perimeter to recover ejected Nova Foxes. They raced back over the forest before disappearing into the undulating hills still covered in drizzling rain. Dragoon mechs kept a distance from any of the burned-out buildings along Antares City’s outskirts. “Keep wary of Elementals.”
Ranna’s Warhammer stepped cautiously the outskirts of Antares City bled out into a massive green space that had been partially burnt out during the initial invasion, but which was now overgrown. Something was watching her, she felt it, but there was no sign of Clan Mechs nearby in the snarled forest or rubble. She was being hunted by something or someone.
“I don’t like this Major.”
“I’m with you MechWarrior. Our intel was bad. Adapt and Overcome.”
The clouds broke and were replaced by a swarm of Donar attack helicopters rising above the hills. Their insectoid silhouette was disturbing but the Series 7j Extended Range Large Laser that served as its stinger sold the concept. With its nearly unmatched range and a helicopter’s mobility the Donar was a serious threat to smaller mechs, and only foolish ones would treat it otherwise. Two of the ten attackers had something even more dangerous on their rotor mast and it was only a few moments before the artillery they were calling down had an even bigger impact that anything the lasers could manage.
First cluster munitions separated from incoming missiles and shells. Caught between artillery and attrition by the attack helicopters the Dragoons were in a bind. They withdrew into the maze of burned-out buildings which gave them cover from Star Adder firepower and cut the effective range of their enemy’s weapons to closer in parity to the Dragoon’s own. Artillery ebbed as the Donar’s orbited the city hovering just outside even their own weapon’s effective range. “They want us in here.”
Ranna’s Warhammer had taken several blows from artillery and helicopters, but it was still in good shape. Others were far less fortunate, Wolfsbane had been hit hard by Long Toms, the Spiders had been shelled by smaller guns including some man-portable mortars. Their enemy was fighting smart, like the SLDF would have, not like the Clans had according to what her mother had told her about the old ways. “This is not the way Marcos Radick would have challenged them, the Strikers must have gotten a different commander between the ROM intel and now.”
Magnetic and Thermal boogies appeared on her scopes and the seismic sensors built into her Warhammer’s feet detected something heavy nearby. The meshed Battlenet of the Spiders and Wolfsbane was suddenly filled with urgent and firm commands, warnings, and shouting.
“They’re behind us!”
“Kraken rising from the rubble. Shoot it, shoot it!”
“Is that a King Crab!”
“Elementals!”
Even from dozens of blocks away Ranna could hear the distinctive double boom of Ultra Autocannons and hollow whistling of LBX submunitions. The whooping of Donar rotors grew louder as their crews sensed opportunity. Artillery returned but each shell spewed out FASCAMs and billowing white smoke preventing the Dragoons from aiding their companions, dislodging the swarming Elementals that ripped mech armor with unfeeling claws, or punishing them for trying to escape the killzone before they were swarmed by attack helicopters.
Ranna was separated from the rest of her star in the confusion. Comms grew more erratic as nodes went dark. Infantry fired down on her Warhammer with every imaginable form of weapon from the upper floors of buildings. Everywhere she stepped seemed to be either swarming with Adders or mined. The 37th Strikers were not undermanned, if anything they seemed endless against the Dragoons that had been sent to assault Antares.
Her breath grew ragged as she engaged in a constant claustrophobic search for Major Castle or any friendly unit only to find hostiles. A running battle with a pair of Conjurers saw the loss of her Mech’s right arm and critical damage to its legs before they jumped away in search of more formidable prey. Her ammunition was depleted as surely as her stamina after an almost two-hour long engagement, but she was still keen, high on adrenaline and sharpened by fear.
Nightfall neared and her hopes brightened with the fading sun. She could bail out, hide and get somewhere for extraction. Command needed to know what happened, to send a rescue mission and a regiment. No! An RCT!
Phelen had done it, she could too. Couldn’t she?
Her Warhammer slowly lowered itself to sit on the ground with its back against a blasted apartment building. Since she had shut it down, maybe they lost track of her in the chaos, or were finishing off the rest of her unit. Ranna descended the chain ladder and sent it reeling back up to her cockpit.
Carbine in hand and bail-out bag on her back she stalked through an alleyway, eyes on every shadow, in the darkness of the abandoned city the only noise was of dripping water and stray beasts. “If I can get to the forest, I might be able to evade them.”
At the end of the alleyway, she looked around the street and saw one of the shadows detach itself. Her carbine was aimed at it, but she felt something pointed at her back. How did she miss them?
“Drop it MechWarrior.”
Not even one block, she released her grip on the weapon and felt it pulled away by another. The detached shadow, a small man no taller and as pale as she, walked toward her. His heavy battle rifle and climbing grapnels marked him as a Mountain Auxiliary before the patch on his shoulder was visible in the moonlight.
He looked at her cooling vest and saw the Dragoon and Spider insignia plus her name ‘R. Kerensky’ stenciled across the right breast. “Kerensky? The Star Colonel will no doubt be interested in meeting you. It’s a long ride to her HQ.”
-
Ranna Kerensky rode on a very uncomfortable saddle in front of Meto, the long haired and colorfully tattooed leader of the strange Chainelaine Auxiliaries, on a gray Percheron that clip-clapped its way over the pavement. A proud charger outfitted with crude tack including a rifle scabbard to supplement the axe strapped across the man’s back along with many grenades looped into the saddle. Only a dozen of the fifty Mountain Troops were on horseback, the rest walked beside mules burdened with deflated but heavy-duty canvas saddle bags pulling along a heavy mortar on a small creaky carriage.
They passed a loose collection of softskin Elementals who towered over the Auxiliaries and Regulars standing as tall as Meto’s charger. The clopping of the horses and creaking of the carriage drew their eyes to the Meto’s Star of 50 Warriors. “I did not expect to be paraded through town on horseback like a captured Princess.”
“That’s not something my culture does. That is an Aeryn tradition.” Meto said jovially.
One of the muleskinners spoke out at the statement, “We do not tie her very tight; she must at least pretend to put up a fight for her brothers’ sake until we are out of town. Then we all get drunk.” More laughter came as they spoke to each other in some kind of strange pidgin that did not put Ranna at ease.
“Why do you have horses?”
“We are used to riding them from our time on Irdmach and stole these from some absentee Lyran nobleman on Baker Three. Do you see the condition of these roads after two Battlemech fights? Once we are done, we are bringing these back home as part of our reward.”
Asphalt was cracked and uneven throughout town, Ranna watched as a pair of women argued with one another on how they should bypass the obstacle on their wide hipped hack motorcycle. Ranna’s eyes were drawn to the M-PPC affixed to the front of the sidecar in a pintel mount, what a strange choice of armament for motorcycle troops. Meto’s men walked where it was easiest and waved to the women who glared back at him before pushing the bike back and turning it around to find an alternate route.
“I cannot argue with your wisdom on the matter. The Clans do not keep livestock, how did you get them here?”
“A strange Biosecurity Scientist ensured they were disease free before clearing us to transport them in the cargo bay. He took a DNA sample too for later Iron Womb breeding calling our mounts ‘fine battle ready specimens.’ The Laborers were displeased at needing to clean everything up, but everyone else was happy when we departed.”
Through their journey they were met with salvage crews with quadruped Loadermechs that were like giant spiders with plasma cutters and other tools in their robotic mandibles, women in heavy exoskeletons pried off some components, and large flatbeds were loaded by crane before towing away fallen Dragoon and Adder Mechs to the Starport. MedEvac Anhurs (Heka, very clearly marked with white paint and a red Ankh) flew across the battlefield toward distant aid stations.
“How many died?”
“Unknown, we turned our radios off while we were stalking your Warhammer.”
“You were just waiting for me?”
“Our mortar ran dry after the initial bombardment.
We were not going to attack your Battlemech with only grenades and grappling hooks.
We are brave, not fools. We expected you to attempt an escape and were in no hurry.”
“It was the longest we have had for lunch all week.” One of the walkers said as he shifted the mattock on his back, “We’ve been digging in since your unit was detected on orders from the Star Colonel.”
They took a detour to avoid the column of Battlemechs returning to the Starport for repairs. “Apparently, she has a blood feud against your unit and a reward offered for any prisoners.”
“Why? What have we done to her?”
“We did not ask. She has a temper; we mostly talk to Commander Presley or the Coregn.”
They passed by weatherworn signs that showed the danger of the free-fire Starport Exclusion Zone. Minefield signs were tucked into the trenches between rows of berms topped with rusting concertina wire. A Blood Asp was silhouetted by moonlight, the sharp angles and large shoulder mounted Gauss cannons very apparent against the stars.
Military Police units trained machine gun on them as they approached but waved them through after confirming their identity. More MRAP style MP vehicles awaited around one of the prefabricated Quonset type buildings that occupied the tarmac. Damaged equipment went one way, injured personnel another, returning units a third way, and POWs awaited a fourth fate.
Meto helped her down but that did nothing to ease her nerves, not only did the Star Adder Colonel have a grudge against the Dragoons but she had no idea how that would manifest. She steeled herself as they brought her forward to where Coregn Hecate, a small tan woman with intense gray eyes looked her over, “Kerensky?”
She put on her sternest look, Seventh Kommando had trained her for this situation. No matter what they threw at her it wouldn’t work. “Ranna Kerensky, MechWarrior, Wolf’s Dragoons, Service number A-U-B-six-four-one, Birthdate June Eight Thirty-Thirty.”
Hecate opened a box of valuables on the table beside her showing them to the Chainelanders, before passing the whole thing to Meto. “Good find Star Commander.
Our Star Colonel will be pleased.”
“Always glad to be of service Coregn.”
Ranna kept her eyes forward as the woman circled her, “Are you certain you wish to be difficult?”
“Ranna Kerensky, MechWarrior, Wolf’s Dragoons, Service number A-U-B-six-four-one, Birthdate June Eight Thirty-Thirty.”
“Very well, take her away Watch Operative. I will inform Star Colonel Kerensky of our latest prisoner’s details.”
A pair of heavily equipped Commandos stood on either side of her and turned her toward the stockade. It took everything for her to not panic and make a futile run away from her fate.
‘Star Colonel Kerensky, oh no!’
-
The headcase sure learned a lot from Adam and Comguards.
Has ROM left any operatives behind, like that cybernetic WMD enthusiast? Though I reckon security here would be much tighter than what Phelan faced.
-
The headcase sure learned a lot from Adam and Comguards.
Not really, the Six Clans are all homologs of the Great Houses and COMSTAR, Star Adder fights like the FedSuns would fight given similar capabilities. (HH=CC, NF=CS, SV=DC, GB=LC, Mongoose=FWL) No one gave Katya command of the air support, artillery, and engineers before now.
Has ROM left any operatives behind, like that cybernetic WMD enthusiast? Though I reckon security here would be much tighter than what Phelan faced.
There are certainly more Clan Warriors on world than Phelen but there is still the whole getting off planet problem. As for COMSTAR, well the remnants of the 222nd and its ROM Demi-Precentor still hasn't been defeated despite Katya's efforts (as hinted at in the Diversion episode).
-
04/21/3052
Ranna watched the crimson Clan Daggerstar flag as it waved proudly before her from behind the apartment window. Her third day of imprisonment in Alba dawned but below its people went about their business, as usual, boarding the trams that took them to distant places within the hillside city. Beyond city limits smoke rose from hastily built houses as their residents sought to cut the biting early morning chill.
She had to admit Alba was a logical place for Star Colonel/Planetary Governor Katya Kerensky to place her headquarters now that Antares City was ruined. From her overflight in she had seen it had ample power and water due to its dam and food from the surrounding fields, easy access by rail, road, and canal to the main Starport, and defensible terrain that would make it difficult to assault. The biggest threat was from inside, but there were no signs of defensive works meaning the invaders felt secure. Sheriff Jason’s deputies patrolled regularly but they were wearing soft armor and carrying only light weapons.
Based on what COMSTAR had released to the public none of this should be true. Antares’ citizens should be living in fear of their oppressors with atrocities everywhere. The AMC was supposed to liberate it, and instead Wolf’s Dragoons walked right into an ambush. However, nothing in the city seemed amiss as far as she knew.
From her vantage point Ranna saw the VTOL landing zone set up in the upper square of the city in front of Katya’s Headquarters in City Hall. VTOLs landed there all the time dropping off every manner of cargo and waking her up in the middle of the night. Also visible was the street leading to the hotel which served as the Clan Warriors' dormitory/barracks. Opposite her on the square was the former COMSTAR building, now occupied by the Clan’s Central Logistics and Intelligence Organizations. Beside it a Polizei Station warded the entrance to the upper square and helipad. There was only a fenced off checkpoint leading upward but that was the case with any government area in the Commonwealth nowadays.
How she wished she had binoculars to determine what she was up to while on the street but up on the seventh floor she couldn’t make much out. Ranna caught a glimpse of the sunrise and was instead thankful that they had basically put her under house arrest rather than stuffing her in some dungeon like they had done to Phelen.
Just because her cage was nicer however didn’t make it any less so. It was a cramped studio apartment that probably belonged to a student prior to Clan Occupation, and ever so much smaller and significantly less decorated than her own flat in Harlech City on Outreach. As a Dragoon she could always live on Remus but there was always a hope that she could make her own place in the Inner Sphere like Mack had done. Now that she was a Clan Bondswoman however that felt like a distant dream.
The waiting is what was killing her. She knew the Dragoons are what had caused the Wolves’ Absorption by the other Clans, Jaime had been preparing them for almost two decades. Katya was perhaps misguided but not wrong to harbor a blood feud with them.
Ranna had no idea what that woman had gone through in the Homeworlds. How old was she when the Star Adders came? Even if Katya might be her enemy, she was still ‘family’ or could be, and that was both good and bad. Most of the Elders who knew of that place had died during the Dragoons’ constant campaigning over 48 years and not of old age. They had just started their ninth generation of Sibkos and each of them now had combat experience. She had however overheard the guards at the Starport saying there were only twelve KIA and as many wounded after their ambush. It could have been far worse or maybe she was just evil and liked the suffering.
“No, I will not yield. The others will come for us. They always do.”
A knock was heard on the door, it was the female MP that served as her guard. “Get decent Bondswoman. You are going for a walk.”
“They always come.”
The guard escorted her through the dorm hallways, still were adorned with Hillside College Tempests’ logo, but its posters were replaced with propaganda broadsheets printed in great numbers by the paper mill just outside of town. Ranna had not realized that this building had become the dormitory for so many of INTER-LOGI’s local facilitators. She could have mistaken them for students and their instructors if it weren’t for the pentagonal emblems on their uniforms. If it weren’t for the prison orange outfit, she had even she could have blended in. An escape plan came to her mind before their trip ended at one of the college’s meeting rooms.
She sat down in one of the gaudily colored chairs, an urn of tea, pair of plastic mugs, jam cups, and steaming croissant wrapped in wax paper lay beside her. Her guard left her there, “No cuffs or anything?”
“If you try anything bondswoman. You will get what you deserve. I am waiting outside.”
Her stomach grumbled, after days of terrible microwavable meals something tasty was right there in front of her, “This is all a manipulation.”
There she waited for, fifteen minutes probably, the steaming pastry lost its heat but continued to give off aroma. She felt the urn that was still warm but not scalding hot. It was an idea but probably one of the worse ones. The door opened admitting a blonde woman taller than she with piercing blue eyes, a deep blue uniform, air of authority, and warrior’s grace. Ranna couldn’t see any weapons on her whatsoever, but the Star Colonel’s crest on her cap was polished.
It was as if Ranna had seen her future self, Katya was not even 30 as far as she could tell. They could’ve been sisters in another time. Katya paused to look at her as well, and suddenly Ranna was incredibly uncomfortable. “You look a mess Ranna.”
‘I don’t look that bad! I checked the mirror.’
Katya sat across from her pouring herself and Ranna a cup of tea from the urn, “No appetite this morning bondswoman? I do not normally have time or company for breakfast. Antares will not run itself nor aid the Clans’ war effort without mine.”
The Dragoon had nothing but silence while Katya sipped on her tea., She sensed irritation in the Star Colonel, but Katya kept her cool when faced with her noncompliance although Ranna saw the effort that required. If Katya had thought to have a friendly chat with her prisoner, she might leave without getting it, and she seemed mildly upset about that.
Ranna had so many questions welling up inside of her about Katya, her friends, the Homeworlds, the Wolves, and so much more. She had someone sitting right across from her right now that might be able to answer them, that might see her as a potential equal. There was only two other people that treated her that way right now, Diana and Phelen.
Katya stood up after finishing her tea, “Very well Bondswoman. If you need more time or forceful persuasion then so be it, but you are not getting off this planet unless I let you, so banish the thought.”
As she reached for the door Ranna spoke up, “How long have you been the Commander of the Strikers?”
-
Star Colonel Kerensky halted at the question her hand on the door. Ranna saw her struggle with something and realized she was either foolish or cunning to save her question for the end of the conversation. “Why do the Dragoons keep asking me that?
I took command on December Eleventh Thirty Fifty One.”
“Our last reports were from December Tenth. ROM said their sources went silent by new years.”
“You launched an assault on such dated intelligence?
I thought the Dragoons wiser, but perhaps that is the fault of your freeborn Commanders.”
How dare Katya insult her family! Ranna was furious and her hands tensed, but there would be no winning a fight against the Star Colonel.
“My Watch Section has recovered partial intercepts from (Precentor ROM) Senaca directed toward a Demi-Precentor Rabia and from her so they still possess an HPG despite my best efforts. This Rabia has tried to kill me no less than five times, using a variety of methods and remains at large, and if I find her there will be no quarter for her. ROM has killed many people I found useful.”
Ranna saw that Katya struggled to contain anger, and sorrow maybe. ROM must have done terrible things and likely had attempted more to earn such ire from the Star Colonel.
“Our conversation is complete; there is work to do.
If your allies are so obliging to free up my calendar, we can continue this conversation but until then I need actionable information from your superiors.
Presently you, Ranna Kerensky, are more useful to me as a hostage. So that others might come and fall in my traps, so I can finally be rid of them.”
She turned the knob and began to open the door as Ranna shouted, “We are Wolves too!”
Katya opened the door, “The Wolves are dead.
I know because I was there at their Twilight when the Adders came.”
Ranna sat in the studio apartment eating microwave shrimp and rice watching Clan propaganda and the main square. They even had a morning cartoon to explain the basics of clan living to occupied citizenry while justifying the invasion as one of pragmatic self-defense and liberation. She paid more attention to the delayed INTELSTAR briefings that reported back her former present while in transit to Antares. Assuming the broadcasters were telling the truth they reported that the AMC was suffering reversals throughout the Great X theater.
A Clan Corvette had even attacked Arc-Royal which was seen as a great coup against the AMC after the Anna Rosse was damaged by the Dragoon Warships. Ranna worried and hoped that Phelen, Diana, and the others were safe. The Kell Hounds were managing the home-front and protecting their own world and the AMCs reserves sourced at market price from the League.
Her own family was in the field fighting against unknown and increasingly dire odds as the Clans shared Katya’ enmity for the Wolf’s Dragoons and their allies. Maybe they weren’t alone. If Katya spoke the truth, then ROM might be complicit in their recent reversals.
The Dragoons had HPGs and Warships, the AMC had supplanted the MRBC after its scandals during the last war. COMSTAR was not fighting the Clans out of the goodness of their heart or with righteousness on their side. Photon’s army hadn’t materialized from nowhere, and Primus Waterly hadn’t put him in charge of it without reason.
Perhaps they saw rivals and sought to remove them using a variety of means, as Rabia had tried with Katya.
Now if she could just convince her of that, then she might be able to rescue the others in the process.
-
To what extent are Comstar sharing intelligence with Lyrans and AMC?
-
To what extent are Comstar sharing intelligence with Lyrans and AMC?
Well you know 'if it is available' they will coordinate with WolfNet (and private contractors in the same business) and the LIC because 'we are all on the same side against this enemy menace to the Inner Sphere'
As opposed to the one right there in the middle of it.
-
PRIORITY A HYPERPULSE TRANSMISSION | 04/23/3052 | 08:47 THT
FROM THE DESK OF PRECENTOR ROM CHARLES SENECA, PORT ROYAL, KALIDASA, FWL
TO ALLIED MERCENARY COMMAND HQ, OLD CONNAUGHT, ARC ROYAL, LC
ATTN: PAPA WOLF
PAPA WOLF,
MY SOURCE ON ANTARES HAS BECOME ACTIVE AGAIN. THEY CONFIRM THAT THE DRAGOONS YOU HAVE SENT THERE WERE RAPIDLY DEFEATED, AND MANY HAVE BEEN TAKEN PRISONER BY THE LOCAL CLAN STAR ADDER GOVERNOR.
STAR COLONEL
KATYA KERENSKY
NEW FORCE ESTIMATES - 10 MIXED CLUSTERS WITH MORE ON THE WAY FROM THE TOUMAN RESERVES
ADDITIONAL UPDATES WILL FOLLOW AS THEY BECOME AVAILABLE,
UNTIL THEN KEEP HOLDING THE LINE.
THE INNER SPHERE NEEDS US ALL
ROM
-
Were his sources really silent for ten months?
-
Were his sources really silent for ten months?
Well now that is the question isn't it. To bad WolfNet and pals are busy.
Interlude - No Man's Land, part 1
04/25/3052 Tomans, Contested
The Fitzhugh sea glistened with oil and the skies were blackened with smoke from burning oil rigs just beyond the horizon concealing the ongoing battle for air superiority. Hydrocarbon compounds caked over the white and olive camouflage of Clan Ghost Bear's 243rd Battle Cluster of Rho Galaxy and forced the 517th Colonial Auxiliary to don their gas masks as they deployed against the incoming armored assault. Equipped with mobile Conjurers and Hellbringers the Clan Mechs of the 243rd fenced with the 'lightweight' 3rd Lyrans while artillery, field guns, and armored battles ripped into blackened earth outside Ronel City.
"So Total War has come to Tomans and this is what it looks like."
Lyran General of the Armies Roman Steiner did all he could to not be affected by the carnage as he monitored the situation via the deployable satellite dish in the Death's Head cockpit of his modified Atlas-RS. He had been in a major war before against the Combine in his early years but this was different. The Clans would not yield, they sought to impose their dominion over his home empire, and he had to stop them.
Beside the mobile HQ that traveled alongside him was a Cyclops, its advanced C2 suite providing even more situational awareness of just how many Ghost Bears were on world...more than expected. Two Zeus Battlemechs completed the Command Lance but there were dozens of other mechs and armored vehicles in various states of resupply as technicians, wearing shemaghs to keep out the smell and particles, rearmed anything that came to them. 3rd Lyran's Headquarters had occupied Tomans' Militia base but it had been severely damaged during their breakout two days ago. The Ghost Bears hadn't time to crater the runway so it continued to serve as the main airbase supporting their ongoing push to reclaim the capital city, its HPG, and starport. It was also their main medevac station, helicopters and trucks constantly delivered wounded from across the battle area for treatment and further evacuation.
"Roman we have a problem." One of the Zeus' turned toward him. General Zardetto whom he had fought alongside when facing the DCMS, back when they were fresh faced officers, more than 20 years ago.
"What is it Paul?"
"Ghost Bear Headhunters with one of those Kodiaks in the lead. They snuck around the remote sensors we put on the Western Flank."
Roman pulled up the latest feed from one of their scout planes showing ten Ghost Bear Mechs, some with Elementals onboard, approaching their position. "And we have just committed our reserves. Cunning bastards. Let me just stow my dish and we'll face them together, just like the old days." He hesitated to open the hatch and let the acrid air back in but did it anyway, carefully folding the dish back into its traveling position. Any updates on the ground could be handled by his staff but a Binary of Ghost Bears required direct intervention and favorable terrain.
Fortunately he knew where some was and allowed his IFF beacon to operate in the clear alerting the Ghost Bears of his presence. They halted for a moment before cautiously adjusting their course toward the fallback position, far away from the rest of his headquarters. The Binary halted just as it was almost in visual range, a man with two claw tattoos raking down to almost his eyes appeared in the display. "General Roman Steiner I am Star Colonel Agoh Forrester of Clan Ghost Bear. By revealing your presence you have invited our Trial and by leaving your headquarters you prove to be a man worthy of respect. Unlike many of your compatriots who flee at the sight of our Warriors or cower behind walls of men or stone.
My sensors determine you have six mechs in your present command. I will match them if you desire to fight us honorably according to our ways."
"My six mechs are heavier than yours Star Colonel and my Warriors as worthy. You can bring all your might upon us. For I am the architect of that wall and your ruin. I shall endure and answer this and all challenges until your kind have been scattered to the stars and my home world freed of its occupiers."
Agoh's face twisted and contorted as if he had received a grievous insult. His mechs were no lightweights yet General Steiner insisted that they could overcome them with an almost two to one advantage and insulted him.
The insolence!
"Very well then General. Bargained Well and Done."
-
I reckon in many ways the mechwarriors have the mentality of medieval knights, so while I'm sure that Roman takes the burden of command very seriously, the chance of getting medieval has it's appeal to him, even with all the risks for the overall war effort.
-
I reckon in many ways the mechwarriors have the mentality of medieval knights, so while I'm sure that Roman takes the burden of command very seriously, the chance of getting medieval has it's appeal to him, even with all the risks for the overall war effort.
Indeed, that is basically how I have portrayed all MechWarriors in my stories. Roman is not a "let them come if they can" kind of commander, he's much more "let's see if they can stop me," or he was as a younger man and it is why he is respected. Unfortunately his pugnaciousness and past scandals did not win him many friends among the Estates General.
----
No Man's Land, part 2
Roman’s Demi-Company
AS7-Roman, CGR-S7, ZEU-6A, ZEU-6T, CP-11-A, GOL-6H
Agoh’s Binary
Kodiak, 2 Hellbringers, 2 Arctic Cheetahs, 2 Pack Hunters, 3 Conjurer (1 B, 2 Prime), Star of Elementals
General Roman Steiner stretched out his shoulder within his cockpit before adjusting his neuro-helmet and throttling the reactor powering his AS7-RS2’s to full power. He looked over as the rest of his team assembled around them as the Ghost Bears approached at speed with Forrester’s Kodiak in the lead. His Atlas’ Death’s Head faced toward the shaped monocular cowled head of the Cyclops beside him as they both raised handheld missile launchers that look pulled off the Zeuses in his formation. “You ready Aaron?”
Fifteen missile warheads emerged from the cylinder. "Toepoppers, locked and loaded. You got another dispersion plan or paint by numbers?”
“The Clans lack subtlety, go ahead and fill the chokepoints we spotted before. They may have the same mass as us, but I think Agoh is none to fond of me.”
“I wonder where you’d get that impression General.”
Dozens of missiles filled the skies each spreading out multitudes of mines the size of large ration cans that spiked themselves into the dirt. The bombardment continued until that ammunition was depleted. They switched to smoke concealing Kurtz’s Charger and Carmine’s Goliath in the woods to their flank, the others steeled themselves for the incoming Ghost Bears about to break through dense white smoke…and come into range.
Explosions could be heard as the opening wave blinded by the dense white smoke blundered into minefields. When they cleared the smoke using their jump jets Aaron tagged one of them in mid-flight with his Cyclops’ Gauss Rifle. Its hyper accelerated ovoid round left a magnesium bright flash and sonic boom in its wake that sent the Pack Hunter and Elementals riding upon it into an uncontrolled crash.
Laser Pulses, Particle Beams, and every type of Missile struck across the machines who had misjudged their distance while engulfed in smoke. Slowed by damage and facing a Lance of Assault Mechs they attempted to escape into the nearby woods. One of them was sent skyward by an upper cut from the Charger’s mace and another ablated away by the Goliath’s Heavy PPC.
Kurtz cleared the woods his Battlemech tapping the mace into his Mech’s other hand like the brutal Gladiator he had one been. “And I’m not even warmed up yet.” Carmine’s Goliath towered over the pines like some wild beast sending forth its needle like missiles toward fleeing Arctic Cheetahs and evasive Elementals.
White smoke dissipated revealing the Star Colonel’s Kodiak in its pristine glory, bear’s jaws and six arms were painted around the shoulders as if the Warrior were some Tribal Champion of yore. “Perhaps you are not so respectable General Steiner, to hide behind smoke and deceptive weapons.”
“I would like to be the first to apologize for rarely living up to other’s expectations Star Colonel Forrester. Now we have the duels you desired, Six verses Six, all that remains is to see who is the superior MechWarrior.”
Agoh’s formation waited just outside weapon’s range but within visual range. “The Forrester Bloodhouse has been with Clan Ghost Bear since its founding. I am of Trueborn of its thirtieth generation.”
“I believe I am of the twentieth generation of House Steiner, and we have been MechWarriors for a much longer time than your Clan has existed.
You are about to find out why we have endured so long.”
Opposite him the Kodiak bared its menacing claws like some gigantic mechanical predator. “Or I will take this opportunity to win my Clan a great victory by defeating one of our enemy’s Champions.”
“You are the one that has not moved toward me Agoh. Might you be afraid of what we are capable of?”
“I am a Trueborn Warrior of Clan Ghost Bear, there is nothing I fear within or outside my Battlemech.”
“Then you will have no opportunity to learn from your mistakes.”
The twenty Delta Dart missiles built into his Crusader-K like arms loaded as Roman’s HUD marked targets for them. They descended from the hill in unison a mobile wall of sharpened steel and flinted jaws. Astoundingly for the Clanners they strode over their own depleted minefields to maintain formation and momentum, seamlessly rotating the lead element as one received damage.
Agoh’s Conjurers jumped around the flanks firing off their Series 44h Pulse Lasers in mid-air while attempting to evade the incoming fire. While precise and powerful the dense armoring of the Lyran Battlemechs sputtered beneath the scorching laser pulses but did not yield. They were in fact ignored in favor of other foes. Under the withering assault the more heavily armed Hellbringers walked backward trading fire with their four PPCs as their armor melted away exposing structure that too was slagged and left burning upon darkened earth pockmarked with craters and smelling of white phosphorous and crude oil.
Their unit might have been enough for a LCAF line unit staffed with peacocked dandies in the biggest mech but there was nothing general issue with Roman’s Companions. Each mech has received the latest upgrades available to the industrial superpower. Ton for ton they had more firepower and armor than almost any Battlemech in the Inner Sphere could muster, piloted by hardened veterans willing to take the blows and deliver them in kind with fear.
One of the Conjurer’s strayed to close only to get its right side and most of its weapons utterly obliterated by Carmine and Aaron’s firepower. What was once a fearsome Ghost Bear Binary eroded away to dust and blackened debris under the onslaught. Roman and Agoh closed upon one another within the carnage drawing them into striking range. At such a range he switched his LRM launchers to deadfire warheads that had traded their range and accuracy for more explosive payload. Explosions erupted across both mech’s chests causing damage that would killer lesser machines.
Roman was not fool, he knew each of the Kodiak’s crushing claws could rip apart the Death’s Head he now occupied. His Atlas, a BattleMech commissioned by Aleksandr Kerensky himself, was emblematic of the Lyran Commonwealth itself. Like the Atlas or Akuma, the Kodiak was a weapon of intimidation. It looked scary but it was just a modified Banshee and not even the 3S, that was scary. He was not afraid, but the Clans should be. They felt they should rule the Inner Sphere and he was about to prove how wrong they were.
The Ghost Bear made his final move, it was clear to Roman that Agoh’s mech despite its durability was reaching its limit and he let the machine come within arm’s reach. A final volley of weapons fire opened more holes in both Battlemechs exposing the critical structure and rippling myomer musculature beneath.
With a final motion Roman counter-punched a claw with his mech’s right arm letting the other slip across and tear into his mech’s upraised left shoulder. His left fist though had crushed the armor on what would have been the Kodiak’s forehead with a hammer-fist, one of the only types of strike that could bypass the pauldron like weapons bays. Agoh’s Mech fell to his left to land on the ground and dragging the claw across the Atlas’ left side in the process.
“That one was for Sarah.”
With their Commander KO’d and with little effect on their targets the Clans withdrew but demanded their MechWarriors back. Roman rolled the Kodiak with his mech’s feet, “Take them and spread the word, then get off my planet.”
-
I don't think they will heed the last part of his message.
-
I don't think they will heed the last part of his message.
It never hurts to ask.
Chapter 25 – Confluence
Ranna’s Notes
04/25/3052
As I look out the window onto the central tram station, I see that the Patrol has begun wearing heavier ballistic armor and carrying battle rifles, an upgrade from their normal equipment. My bodyguard/captor has also expanded her kit with a well-fitted plate carrier and submachine gun in addition to her pistol. Why have they increased their vigilance and firepower?
04/26/3052
INTER-LOGI’s Civil Infrastructure Unit has delivered heavy highway barriers up here to cordon off the government square more closely. Armored Elementals patrol the central square along with more numerous motorcycle units and gun trucks. Anhur and the heavier Sekmet deliveries have increased to almost nightly which is causing all manner of problems that the INTER-LOGI staff I have been berthed near complain about.
04/27/3052
Despite the increase in vigilance Chloe, my ‘escort,’ has been apparently ordered to integrate me via association with the rest of the young Clanners in this dormitory. My suspicion is that because I am the youngest in my unit, thus supposedly more pliable, and with promise as a possible bloodnamed candidate. The cafeteria food is superior to anything microwavable, I don’t have to wear orange, and they even gave me back some of my possessions with the new fatigues and exercise clothes.
I still worry about the others, but don’t ask. As far as they are concerned, I am ‘warming’ up to them. It is also closer to the norm of what I am used to growing up on Remus, but I must remember I am a captive not a cadet.
04/28/3052
The security situation outside must be escalating dramatically since there are now Chasseur MPF and Cyclone MLRS tanks supporting the Star of Mechanized Infantry now encamped in the central square. A Horus Air-Search/Track RADAR and Multiple Communication Antennae have now been deployed atop the Polizei station apparently craned down via the CIU’s heavy lift VTOL. Civilians apparently are coming under increased scrutiny in the ration lines, but according to the mess room discussion there has not been a large security event warranting such behavior.
After almost ten days as a captive my guards allowed me to exercise in what was once the college’s gym. It’s not outside but it was good to have an opportunity to move more freely even if I was following the Trainer’s orders along with many junior patrol officers. I suppose they do not want their potential Abtakha Warrior to wither away or perhaps they are just looking for an opportunity to cause me pain and see me sweat. There was fortunately no hot water ration in the showers thank heavens as I really should have stretched more in my dorm room, but frozen meals provided sufficient relief.
Instead, I watched the animated kid’s show The Adventures of Clan Spaniel and what passed for period dramas from the Rememberances (Remembered in Gold, Prinz Eugen Putsch, The Eight Hundred, Fall of the Usurper) or soap operas (Star Crossed, Secrets of Strana Mechdy) starring members of the Artisan Caste. They were surprisingly not terrible, but certainly tragic victims of Khan censorship and poor writing.
The Present
04/29/3052 Mid-Day
“Time to go for a walk Bondswoman.” Chloe’s voice went through the intercom, she clicked off ‘The Wilds of Tokasha,’ a soap opera set on a fictionalized more habitable but at least as dangerous version of the dark jungle world that Diana was from, as fast as she could. A show featuring a torrid love triangle between a fearless jungle princess, the young man she rescued from the wilds, and the girl he left behind.
The policewoman opened her door, “The Star Colonel wants to speak with you.”
“About time.”
“Do not give her an attitude this time, or you might end up with the others.
In far inferior circumstances.”
We set out across the central square avoiding the dozens of soldiers and support personnel from almost every type of agency or organization including those further afield. “It is good to finally be outside. Why is everyone here?”
“You will find out from Katya.”
City Hall was a fortress with a Star of Armored Elementals and two massive Carnivore tanks positioned about it. Ahead of them were Sheriff’s Jason’s burly Deputies and just behind them were the lean, deceptively dangerous Espatiers that accompanied Senior Clan Commanders when not training Watch Operatives, fighting the Clan’s enemies, or stealing hearts if the shows she had been watching to kill time were accurate.
After so long stuck inside the sun felt warm and so did the breeze as it passed over the forest. From the upper circle one could see the green returning to the forest. “Do we have to go inside?”
A push settled it as we passed into the atrium filled with pullout plastic tables upon which all manner of communication and sensor consoles or maps lived. Uniformed runners passed between the many conference rooms and at least one MP, like Chloe, was posted outside each door but two were posted outside one door the Planetary Governor’s, formerly of the late Mayor of Alba.
Behind that door Star Colonel Katya Kerensky stood at the window looking out toward the dam that powered this city, its industry, along with the mobile HPG complex, planetary satellite communication arrays, and the powerful aerial and space search sensors that had tracked the Dragoons throughout their journey. Katya accepted Chloe’s salute before she stepped out of the room. There was no chair for Ranna but still Katya sat in hers behind a desk filled with communiques and maps.
“I suppose they are coming for us then?”
“Four Regiments including Zeta if our partially decrypted ROM intercept is to be believed.”
“That is almost the entire deployed strength of the Dragoons!”
“Exactly I have directly contacted ilKhan Shower’s staff. Reinforcements are already en route.”
“I won’t be enough, ROM could be lying, the more I think about the less it makes sense.
There’s still time, I would rather you not die needlessly cousin.”
“I am not a Wolf; I am a Star Adder and you severely underestimate us Ranna.”
“But I do not underestimate you Katya! I know you are a good Commander and doubt ROM, but must act on what you have, or more likely what Rabia has given you.
The more Touman Warriors deployed here the weaker those fighting the COMGUARDs pressing toward Sudeten and if the Dragoons are sending four Regiments, then the AMC has committed their reserves and left Arc-Royal unguarded or the Front undermanned.
It doesn’t make sense, Mack and Maeve do want to recover me I’m sure, but they wouldn’t endanger the whole campaign for it. That is not the Dragoon’s way. We are used to losing people.”
Among the books on the desk was vol.ii of CHP’s Encyclopedia on Aleksandr Kerensky ‘Early Career and Letters to Katya’, which was widely seen as the least martial of the tomes as at least vol.i. had action at the Nagelring. It was instead filled with Aleksandr’s early failures and how they eventually led to his promotion to Lord Protector and heartfelt letters written during their courtship as he was always on the move and some later ones to his possibly dead wife and sons while on campaign during the Star League Civil War. “You are not lost yet.”
-
at the window looking out toward the dam that powered this city, its industry, along with the mobile HPG complex, planetary satellite communication arrays, and the powerful aerial and space search sensors
Why do I have a feeling that at the peak of fighting, somebody will try to breach the dam?
-
Whaaa! That would never happen. What kind of amoral monster would even contemplate such a thing while potentially possessing the means to do so?
-
I think the Anton Chekhov Memorial Dam is perfectly safe :tongue:
As always, thank you for sharing this story. Let's see what game ComStar is playing here...