The Wolves and the Dragons (AU)

[Wolflord]

what are Wolverines and Griffins going to do to improve the AMC? they build Merlins, which though are slower, are just a bit heavier and reasonably well armed...

wait, at this time is Marduk still in FS hands?

I believe it is but am braced for discovering that i am completely wrong.

Marduk and Quentin are in Combine hands for the moment. Canonically, the Combine did take Marduk after the 4SW.

Wolverines and Griffins are there to add numbers. I'm still keeping some sort of production limit for each 'Mech, so new lines mean new 'Mechs you wouldn't have had access to. If they made 12 Merlins a year, they'll now be able to make 12 WVRs and/or 12 GRFs also.

The fact that they all more or less fill the same trooper-ish role is just a bonus.

Also, don't neglect exports.

Told You  :D

[Marwynn]

Unity Palace, Luthien
Pesht Military District, Draconis Combine
3 January 3030


Minobu calmly tasted his tea. The garden was perfect for this discussion; open to the cooler night sky, crickets playing their songs, and the company of warriors to pass the time.

Except they were no ordinary samurai. Three Lord Kuritas sat close by; the Coordinator, the Kanrei, and the Heir-Designate. He knew Isoroku Kurita, though not as well as the other two. He lacked the brilliant fire Theodore flickered with or Yorinaga's steady burn. But Minobu sensed the Kurita fire behind those blue eyes as well.

The Coordinator had rewarded him by placing him in charge of the Sun Zhang MechWarrior Academy. It was an honour, but it came with a demotion: Isoroku had been invited here to meet Franklin, soon to be Franklin Kurita, the proper Heir-Designate.

If Isoroku was bitter about it, he hid it from beyond Minobu's ken.

"This new bushido," Isoroku was saying, "cannot be called 'the new bushido'." On that, Minobu agreed. "It implies a change. Even," Isoroku held up a hand, "even if it is called a new interpretation. Or an addendum."

"Then what can we call it?"

Isoroku sipped his tea. "Bushido."

Minobu smiled, feeling the correctness in that. It would simply be.

The Gunji-no-Kanrei sought his eyes and they nodded as one. The Genyosha had been built with Yorinaga's own interpretations of the code. Theodore adopted then adapted the Ryuken's from his interpretation. Both emphasized the state, the Draconis Combine, above all things; including personal honour.

Both of them did this because they had been dishonoured in their eyes and the eyes of the DCMS. Both had contemplated death to expunge it; and both had been prevented from doing so. A sober examination of what they had done for the Combine since would show that they had done far more alive than they could have in death.

Every day, many officers that had survived the Sun Zhang or years of active conflicts, they would be committing seppuku to expunge a temporary tactical failure. Any defeat not brought on by incompetence or negligence was only shameful if they remained defeats. If nothing was learned.

That was the perspective he and the Kanrei now shared. It was a perspective Theodore was born with.

'Radical' indeed, Minobu mused as he refilled his tea cup.

"We will rob them of their fire," Isoroku warned. "These young nobles, they live for the day they can boast about their own honour, their glory to further their families' standings. Without them... You know this." It was almost a question.

Theodore nodded, still wearing a half-smile. "Hai. That is why the preference for noble-born students will be relaxed."

Minobu watched Isoroku's face.

"So ka," the new head instructor said. He smiled. "For a while there, I was worried you'd make me the new Warlord of Rasalhague!" Isoroku laughed. "Not a fortunate position to be awarded!"

The laughter was dark and tinged with wariness. It was still far too soon. Still, Minobu sensed it was Isoroku's way of asking a question.

The Coordinator's half-smiled never faded. "Rasalhague still operates under Warlord Sorenson's orders." The man had been missing for some time now, shortly after Nondi Steiner launched their invasion. "Though they come from the Kanrei's office."

"It does make sense," Minobu blurted out. "A Warlord of Warlords," he offered.

The Coordinator shook his head, then considered it. "A good thought, but no. Do you have spare time to command the DCMS and your District, tai-shu?" Theodore asked with a smile.

Warlord Tetsuhara accepted the correction gladly.

"Rasalhague must be retaken. Cherenkoff's ronin have abandoned him completely. We do not have actionable intelligence on his location," Yorinaga confirmed. "The regiments raiding the Lyrans have proven to be, surprisingly, flexible and effective."

Theodore nodded. "I had planned on being generous," he said darkly, "and allowing those regiments to die against the Lyrans, as a lesson." The Coordinator shook his head. "What a spiteful thought. No, I will make them the disciples of... bushido," he said with a nod towards Isoroku, "and they will retake Rasalhague."

Yorinaga spoke softly. "They will need supplies and time."

"They will have both."

The Kanrei dipped his head slightly.

Minobu rose after the Coordinator did, some time after. They spoke of other things and even managed to make Isoroku snort, an almost childish sound that he did not expect from the serious samurai.

The inner garden's gates creaked open as an Otomo escorted a young woman. It was one of the Kanrei's aides, Minobu recognized.

She bowed deeply and held up a noteputer. Minobu took it, as was proper, and handed it to Yorinaga without reading it.

The Kanrei accepted it with a nod, then began reading through the message. He looked up, directly at him then at Theodore.

"Nirasaki is under attack. Wolf's Dragoons have lost Hephaestus and Tai-sho Wolf is presumed--" Yorinaga coughed then shivered. The noteputer fell from his grasp.

Minobu ran to the Kanrei's convulsing side, kicking the noteputer away as he shouted for a medic.

[Wolflord]

Some sort of contact poison on the noteputer? Or just a seizure?

More please!

[Arvanna]

Sounds like another message from the same source that poisoned Takashi with a previous message of woe.

[Ajax_Wolf]

Sounds like another message from the same source that poisoned Takashi with a previous message of woe.

Then why only one death? My money is on a shock induced heart attack.

[Arvanna]

Remember that Takashi was poisoned with a contact toxin on the message reporting Teddy's believed death on the front? My money is on more of the same either poison or as suggested the pad was rigged somehow.

[Marwynn]

**RETRACTED**

There was never anything here.

[Marwynn]

Sorry guys, I made a mistake with the previous post.

It was from the initial run through this and stuff had changed. My bad. Please erase from your memory.

At this moment, we're not sure if anyone's still alive. 

[Marwynn]

This is what should've gone up. My bad, peeps.


=================================


Elusian City, Nirasaki
Dieron Military District, Draconis Combine
9 January 3030


He looked out into the city, eyes squinting at the sunlight reflecting off Elusian's glass and neosteel buildings.

It is supposed to rain, he thought. In the stories, it always rained after... He let his thoughts trail. Outside, birds chirped happily, basking in the dim sunlight and cloudless skies.

One breath. One step inwards. He was centred again.

"I can see you doing that," his companion muttered. When he didn't answer, the man continued. "Freaks me the hell out, I tell you. One moment, you're human... the next, you're like a cold-blooded Snake."

"I am what I am," he offered.

"What you are is pissing me off," the man said, grunting. His companion rose slowly from the leather couch, his armour creaking. "I'll take first watch." It wasn't an offer. "Get some shut-eye."

He nodded without looking at his companion, stifling a yawn as he entered a bed room. He didn't know whose apartment this was, it was better furnished than most Kuritan domiciles and he was thankful that a soft bed waited for him in the room.

He woke up twice throughout the day; once to eat and take his turn to watch, the second to bathe and stretch. The night was late in coming, and they left the apartment mostly untouched.

The Rangers had given up their chase some time before he went to sleep, but he still sensed eyes on him as they returned to the alley they stumbled on in the twilit hours. His companion's weapons were still there. More importantly, for his companion, so was his armour.

It glinted green in the harsh glare of the streetlamps. It was a matter of minutes for the hunter to don his suit; years of use made it as familiar as putting on a pair of old boots. He kept watch over the hired killer, sporting a Kuritan militiaman's rifle, a Dragoon-issued heavy pistol, and an assortment of grenades from his companion. Any one of those things was enough for a Ranger to kill him on sight.

"Stay hidden," his companion whispered electronically. The earbud in his right ear tingled. "You scout, then I move up."

It was the safest pattern. For his companion. The hunter's armour was as stealthy as a battlesuit could be, and that wasn't anywhere as close as he knew to be. And if they ran into any Rangers, he'd die first, giving the hunter enough time to run away.

"Not a lot of company," he sub-vocalized to the hunter. "Streets are empty."

"Stay hidden."

He didn't respond. The hunter was patient in the way a rockslide was; he could wait for years but the end was just as was inevitable and unstoppable.

The HPG compound rose before them. Its blue neosteel walls and towering white pillars had been blackened by laser fire. Pools of molten wall littered the perimeter and the pillars were pockmarked with missile and shell hits.

He didn't care about the facility. His eyes drifted up, into the clear night sky; the transmitter was whole.

His low-light visor didn't show much else. If there were Rangers guarding it, he wouldn't be able to tell. He told his companion.

"Hold. I'll take a look."

He waited, hearing some scrabbling, metal digging into 'crete, and finally a satisfied grunt. "Nothing on the outside. You were right," the hunter admitted. "Waco didn't bring enough infantry to hold the planet."

"That compound could easily hold ten platoons," he warned. "We haven't seen many of them out tonight."

"We will."

He closed his eyes just in time to shield it from the sudden blast. Then another, and another. Sirens were wailing before the explosions stopped.

He stuck closely to the shadows, watching the building as troopers poured out. Some squads left on vehicles, screaming into their comms. He couldn't hear their words, just their fear and hate.

"What did you destroy?" he asked, already knowing the answer

"What does it matter?"

"You'll need me for this. Answer me."

There was a bark of a laugh. "Guard posts and barracks. I would've taken ya, but you were napping." He waited. "Oh. And the last one was the hospital."

He gripped the rifle tightly in both hands. The Rangers had taken over the downtown hospital for their wounded. It was a Brotherhood facility, the best doctors on Nirasaki worked there. The hunter had killed them all.

For this chance.

For him.

The hunter had already moved up, his armoured form backed against the neosteel wall in between two molten holes. He waited for him.

His rifle was up and ready, the target picture clear despite the low light. He could do it. Fire one overcharged bolt underneath the hunter's chin. The temptation lasted a second and then he killed two Rangers staring at the rising fires in the distance, worried about their friends.

They responded like soldiers, dropping down and scrabbling towards the wall. Solid cover. They came out armed and they were already firing, tracking him as he snapped off shots, running into harder cover.

He didn't watch the hunter spring his trap. The hissing of the flamethrower grated against his mind.

"Move up," his companion said just a few seconds later.

The grenades went in to the lobby first. They exploded in mid-air, one over the semi-circle that made up one of the six front desks. The Rangers hiding in them died painfully as waves of smaller explosions rattled and tore apart the squads waiting for them.

"Move it!" the hunter yelled into his ear.

He ran, as he was drilled to, moving from cover to cover but it wasn't necessary. Their run to the living quarters was uneventful, the hunter taking point now that stealth was unnecessary.

He ripped the doors off their frames, panicking the ComStar adepts.

One stumbled out to him. "Praise Blake!--You're not ComGuard..."

ComGuard?

"No, I need your help. Can you send a message?"

The man shook his head, retreated then returned with three other frightened people in robes. "They can," was all the old man said as he followed the hunter ripping doors off hinges and soothing his people.

He turned to the three in front of him. "I need your help," he repeated. "I need to send a message."

Their heads bobbed almost as one and they ran to the depths of the facility.

"The HPG is still active, it's just not transmitting!" one of the robed people called out behind him. He couldn't tell which. "There's a terminal we can use... here!" the one in the lead shouted, pointing at a room. She turned to the other two as he dashed in, ordering them to other areas.

"We have our own messages to send," she said slowly. Forcefully.

"Of course," he said with a smile. She was pretty in a crazy sort of way. "I need a high priority burst to Luthien."

"Trideo or text?"

"Trideo, please," he said, setting the rifle down to the side as he sat down.

An explosion rocked the facility, flickering the lights as it boomed across the hallways. She turned to him. "Hurry, please."

He nodded, breathed in and centred himself.

"This is a message for Lord Theodore Kurita, Coordinator of the Draconis Combine and the First Lord of the Star League. My name is Michi Noketsuna. We are betrayed."

[pensiveswetness]

**RETRACTED**

There was never anything here.

OMG. thats like declining the money shot after all that effort...

[Marwynn]

Unity Palace, Luthien
Pesht Military District, Draconis Combine
10 January 3030


Franklin opened his eyes, coughing and thrashing in surprise at the soft bed.

The last he remembered was falling...

"You're awake," a voice said. The burst of energy he felt were draining from him now, and he found it difficult to focus. He nodded once then his eyes closed.

It was darker and slower the next time he woke. He dreamt of a fragrant garden, starlit, filled with the noises of crickets and serious men. There was shouting, a glowing square flying towards him, then nothing.

"Father?"

"I am here, son," Theodore said abruptly. He had been sleeping, lightly, in a chair. It took several moments for him to try to clear up his vision until he realized he was crying. He wiped the tears away.

"What--how?--" he began then coughed again.

"You remind me of myself when I was younger," his father said, seating himself on the bed. "Always curious, poking my head into places I shouldn't." The last word hung in the air, and Franklin gulped.

He knew he'd been pushing, testing the limits ever since he arrived. And when that hadn't been enough, "Uncle" Ninyu had provided very subtle instructors to teach him how to circumvent them.

"It took me a while to figure out how you got into the garden," Theodore continued. "Damn Ninyu," he said, exasperated. "He's teaching you evasion skills and you're applying it to your mischief."

"Uncle Ninyu said it would serve you right for all the--"

"--'Uncle'?"

Franklin coughed then nodded. "He said to call him that."

His father blew out a breath. "I have done crazier things before I was your age, yes. But... but that was a different time."

"Assassins?"

His father smiled painfully. "Yes, we have enemies now--"

"--And House Kurita never had enemies before?" he quipped, not meaning anything of it.

His father pulled himself away, eyes wide. They were silent for a long time.

"You will need more instructors," was all his father said before the door to his room opened. Servants brought in steaming piles of food that Franklin didn't know he was craving until then. He dove into the meal under his father's approving and relieved gaze.

"Sumimasen, tono," an Otomo said at the door, bowing. "The Kanrei requests your presence."

Franklin pretended not to hear and continued eating and slurping the food. He sent the servants away with his thanks soon afterwards, slid out from the bed. He was at his door when four Otomo stepped in around him.

They're my guards. I'll never be without them, he realized.

He couldn't tell, but it seemed that the Otomo were amused at something.

Two more of their number waited at the doors of Theodore's office. They let him pass along with one of his bodyguards. He stood, readying his face for chagrin, when the room darkened and a holoimage appeared. He saw two other men with his father just as the windows turned black and the lights dimmed.

An old man--no, a young man that looked old--bowed. His eyes flashed then cooled. ""This is a message for Lord Theodore Kurita, Coordinator of the Draconis Combine and the First Lord of the Star League. My name is Michi Noketsuna. We are betrayed."

There was a gasp of breath. That was Tai-shu Tetsuhara. Franklin knew he considered Michi a son and had mourned for him when news of his death reached Luthien late last year.

"There are elements within the Combine that are conspiring with Davion and Steiner interests and have engineered the setbacks suffered by our campaign. They have directly aided in the capture of Warlord Sorenson, the rise of Marcus Kurita, and the continuing defiance of Vasily Cherenkoff." The old youngster paused as the image shook, and a dim roar echoed as he spoke again. A woman's voice ushered him to hurry. "This conspiracy extends to the gutting of Tamar, Skye's independence, and even--I believe--the current state of the Draconis March."

The shaking was more violent now. Loud thuds and electronic screaming reverberated in the hallway behind Michi. "Andurien is next. They will follow in Skye's footsteps. But the Combine is in greater danger--I name Isoroku Kurita as a conspirator! Proof is embedded with this--"

There was scuffling and shouting. Franklin ran behind a couch, seeking cover instinctively as his guardian stayed by his side; protecting him with his bulk. The Otomo charged in, breaking up the fight as the lights came back on.

"Place him under arrest!" Theodore ordered as the guards unceremoniously stripped Isoroku Kurita of his adornments. He gasped, drawing attention to himself, as he realized what Isoroku was being stripped of.

"Minobu," his father said, turning to the other man that had held down the Kanrei. The Coordinator bowed to the Warlord in thanks. Minobu returned it swiftly, spilling more of his blood. An Otomo stood nearby, waiting to bandage him.

Franklin ran to his father's side, dread hardening in his gut. "Where's?--" he coughed. "Where's Yorinaga-ojisan?"

His father knelt on one knee and hugged him. "He was instructing you in archery?" Franklin nodded, his face rubbing against the Coordinator's robed shoulders. "He died the same night you almost did, from the same poison."

"But--" he sobbed, "--why didn't I?"

He felt his father look up and Franklin followed his gaze. The gashes on Warlord Tetsuhara's hands, where he gripped Isoroku's blades, were expertly bound already. Minobu was bowing low.

"Forgive me, Heir Franklin. There was only medicine enough for one, and I..." Minobu stopped, bowed deeper.

Above, oblivious to the blood and pain, the holoprojector hummed a list of names, dates, and filenames the Coordinator's powerful systems had unspooled from the trideo message. It took a while for Franklin to disentangle himself from his father. He bowed deeply to the tai-shu.

"I owe my life to you, as my father owes his life to you. You and Michi both." He held the bow up for a long time. When he straightened, the names of the traitors were glowing behind Minobu's head.

He looked the old samurai in the eyes. "We will not forget."

[Notsonoble]

So now Theo and Franklin have a list. However, will that be enough to stabilize things long enough for Theo to get some real work done?

[Marwynn]

Stability, you say? Hmm... I suppose anything could happen.


=============================================

Saso, New Syrtis
Capellan March, Federated Suns
12 January 3030


"These Kuritas are dropping like flies..." First Prince Hanse Davion said, putting down the report on his desk.

Justin Allard nodded. "It doesn't look like their civil war actually ended," he offered.

The First Prince considered those words. "Is Theodore so weak that he can't secure his own throne?"

"Or he's being made to look that way," Quintus Allard said, shaking his head. They both looked towards him.

Justin sighed. "Theodore is not like his father; he's still a Kurita, however."

"What did Candace think about him?" The Fox asked smoothly.

"Useful," he said quickly. "I still don't know which one actually maneuvered the other into taking Tikonov." He kept his voice free of any emotion. Like regret.

"So he can be a player," the Fox whispered. "If we give him time." The Fox's gaze fell on his father.

"We're still not sure what happened on Luthien. We have credible reports that this 'Franklin' was killed but he turns up alive. There are also rumours that Yorinaga staged a coup, killing Isoroku in the process who was passing through on his way to the Sun Zhang."

"And now both are dead," the First Prince said. "One, to a 'lingering illness from his days in self-imposed exile'. The other, a DropShip malfunction on his way to New Samarkand. Both in a span of a week?"

There was quiet for some time. Then Justin leaned forward. "I don't believe Yorinaga would lead a coup. Or even attempt one. When I spoke with him, before he became the gunji-no-kanrei, he was--he felt like--it was as if he found his purpose in life again." He shook his head, hating himself for not explaining it better. "He deferred to Theodore, of course, but there was respect there. Yorinaga was effectively kanrei then, but his position, his status, were all the things he earned through skill."

"And Kuritans don't skimp on training," his father added. "Deadly Kuritan MechWarriors are often deadlier combatants once outside the 'Mech."

The question hung in the air. "No, I don't think Theodore had the skill to defeat someone like Yorinaga like your analysts think happened. Don't get me wrong," he added. "I think Theodore could kick all our asses right now."

"You admire him." The Fox wasn't asking a question.

"Yes. He's accomplished great things. Terrible, especially on Tharkad. But still, we'll be teaching the strategy he used to build up to the Tharkad Raid for years--"

"--the Far Raid--"

"--and he's still working on revolutionizing the DCMS and the Combine." He wondered what it was like to be freed from a 12 or even 18 hour workday, earning at least the same amount of money. How liberating it must be.

"They'll become better?"

"They'll become more powerful," Quintus said. "We missed an opportunity in the last two decades when the Combine was in decline, your Majesty. When there was food riots across dozens of worlds. When neosteel and ferro-crete were in short supply..."

Justin leaned back and listened. When his father said 'I told you so' he did it unflinchingly. Those were the same things the Federated Suns were still struggling with. Not as many riots as before, but plenty of shortages everywhere.

The warning was well received. The First Prince leaned back, his eye off the Dragon lest he provoke it with a glare.

"Does Duchess Humphreys need any more assurances from us?" the Fox asked.

"No, your highness," his father said.

"Then let's finish packing. I want to be on New Avalon before Valentine's--my wife promised to be there."

[Marwynn]

Ricol Ducal Palace, Lyons
Lyons Prefecture, Dieron Military District, Draconis Combine
14 January 3030


The red Marauder's arms swerved to track the retreating Archer as its autocannon continued to chip away at the blue 'Mech's blackened torso.

One of the Magna Hellstars fired, hurling a condensed stream of particles at the ARC-2S's left missile hatch. The missiles the Lyran was readying exploded in their tubes, wrecking the launcher completely in a series of coughing explosions.

Hassid Ricol grinned.

Luck, he thought. The Archer's ammo bins were still half-full; those detonations could have set them off but didn't. He didn't envy the Lyran's headache at the moment, however. PPCs were notorious for creating a buzz when hit with one, but ammo going off could render a pilot unconcious if not dead.

The Red Duke waited for the Archer to respond, reading its body language. It swayed to the right as it stepped back, the arms moving on their own, not providing balance or even protection from his fire.

Before he was the Red Duke he was known as the Red Hunter.

The chittering GM Whirlwind autocannon began stitching fire towards the 70-ton 'Mech's already damaged legs. He waited for another cassette to load before sending another bolt of particles low, smashing the Lyran 'Mech's right kneecap just as tracer fire fed into it.

His warbook told him all he needed to know; he had programmed it with the sounds of actuators and myomer bundles of all 'Mechs and models still in service. He knew before the Lyran did that the lower half of the Archer's right leg was slowly grinding itself apart from the rest of the 'Mech.

There was no return fire from the Lyran. It crashed to the ground in comical slowness, but he had already moved on.

A Wolfhound's large laser flared at him, slicing and melting half a ton of armour over the Marauder's awkward legs. Ricol hurled two bolts at it, smashing its chest in two pulverizing booms. Even in anger, the hits were expertly timed: the first struck the left shoulder as the light 'Mech pivoted on its right foot, left leg high, forcing the pilot to balance by bringing the left foot down behind it. The second bolt struck as the right leg rose, striking at the opposite shoulder.

The 35-ton 'Mech fell on its back and skidded to a stop as the rough ground shaved armour and paint away. His warbook zoomed in and highlighted the fallen 'Mech's insignia; the Zeus and sun of the 14th Donegal Guards.

How very nice for you, Hassid thought, slamming more particles at the Wolfhound's ruined chest. The crackling wound bled oily smoke as the canopy cracked and the pilot scrabbled out.

He ignored the blasts of heat that poured from the Marauder's fusion heart as he scanned the field for his next target. The dark crimson combat suit he wore pumped non-toxic coolant across most of his body. In truth, he was feeling slightly cold and relished the experience even as he burned with indignation.

The hand-woven suit was a gift from Coordinator Theodore Kurita, and he valued it highly.

He spotted an Atlas taking particle cannon hits from a pair of the new Tanto hovercraft he had purchased and decided to rescue his men and women.

Maybe he would even spare Theodore from seeing his bastard son die before he did.

Maybe.

[Marwynn]

227 km east of Elusian City, Nirasaki
Dieron Military District, Draconis Combine
24 January 3030


The Ocelot was one of the handful of new Leopard-CV-class DropShips produced every year. Its sleek lines notwithstanding, it was fitted with high-end surveillance equipment and kept in orbit; a floating base for aerospace fighters on patrol. It wasn't more than three years old.

It glided through Nirasaki's calm atmosphere, its control surfaces extending out and rising in rhythm as it swam through the morning sky. A red-and-blue star gleamed on each wing.

Below, Elusian City's modern spaceport tagged the DropShip entering the atmosphere and kept a close eye on it. The tower staff sent no warning, not even alerting the three heavily armed guards keeping watch over them.

It had been three weeks since the planet fell. It was long enough for new routines to become just routine. The guards had begun sharing the morning cups of tea with the tower crews, silently enjoying the Nirasakians' morning ritual as the night shift ended.

There was no poison in the tea. Nothing but perfectly-hot water and leaves.

The Ocelot swam by the city and began descending. Nirasaki was a world of communes, of small, highly productive concentrations of humanity spread across the planet. There were more DropShip capable tarmacs on the planet than even on many other industrialized worlds, so a DropShip's landing directly on a commune's stretch of hardened ferro-crete was nothing new.

But the Ocelot wasn't landing.

It continued to fall, still gliding, well past the city and communes. Below, two lines of metal exchanged light and smoke in the distance. One, the closest, was larger and thicker than the wave it opposed. The other was not as static, ebbing, flowing, and gouging out chunks of the line with dark smoke and bubbles of fire.

From a distance, a small scale fell from the airborne fish. Jetting away on smoke, its chutes deployed as it sank to the ground.

The DropShip finished its descent.

[Marwynn]

The Iron Man Mobile HQ, 74 km north of crash site, Nirasaki
Dieron Military District, Draconis Combine
24 January 3030


"DEST 6 reports success, tai-sho."

Andrew Subato Chou nodded, trying hard not to sniff. 'Success' in this case meant wasting a perfectly good DropShip to make a statement. He'd rather have kept the DropShip. landed the Ryuken right on top of Waco's Rangers, and made the statement with his men and women.

But the ISF had insisted. So he obliged.

In return, the ISF and DEST promised that he wouldn't have to worry about Elusian City. Which was a relief; the capital had suffered much as the mercenaries killed each other.

This was a mistake.

"Hai," a voice beside him agreed. "But a necessary one."

Tai-sho Chou turned, locking his jaw as he realized he had spoken out loud, and kept in an exasperated breath.

Tai-sa Ysabeau Johnson, commander of the Ryuken-ni calmly sipped her morning bulb of coffee and flicked through the mobile headquarters' holomap. Chu-sa Charles Earnst, now in charge of Chou's Ryuken-ichi, served as his second. Somehow, the tai-sa believed her place was here in the HQ instead of in a 'Mech, leading the troops.

His unsubtle hints had not been heeded. Right now, the two regiments would be commanded just by Tai-sa Abe Ito of -ichi.

The tai-sho chose to ignore her. "How's -ni looking, Charles?"

"As good as ever, Chou-sama." Charles shifted towards the holomap. "They finished off-loading before the DEST's delivery," he said. "And they're making speed towards the Dragoons."

"And -ichi? Still no word?"

"None," the chu-sa responded. "The Dragoons are still operating on Condition Feral," he added. "No comms."

"Keep both regiments at bay then," Andrew said. "Let them see us hitting the Rangers instead."

Charles Earnst, a man he known for years and fought with, bowed respectfully and carried out his orders. He could leave that to him and oversee the whole operation. Tai-sa Johnson, however, took a step closer.

"Tai-sho, we must secure the Dragoons' factories."

Andrew ignored her, walking away from the holomap to start at the flatscreen that made up one of the walls of the Mobile HQ. They had been deployed for hours, the Rangers and their allies remained completely unaware, and had time enough to run secured landlines to direct comm traffic.

He walked by the various comm stations, keeping a close eye and ear to what was being said and where. He had learned this from Minobu Tetsuhara. He kept it just as the great samurai did, with a few touches he knew the warlord would approve of. His essence was still very much here, even if the man had not set foot in this particular Mobile HQ.

It was brand new, after all.

The tai-sa joined him as he walked to the refreshment stand. Hot tea, cool water, and rice biscuits were on hand for the hard-working crew. He partook of a biscuit.

"Tai-sho," she began again. "The Dragoon factories--"

"--Is there something wrong with your BattleMech, tai-sa?" he asked. There was a time when a tai-sa, a colonel, commanded a battalion in the DCMS. Ysabeau Johnson had clawed her way to that rank even before Minobu Tetsuhara offered her a position within the Ryuken, under his direct command no less. She was everything the Ryuken wanted in one of their warriors. But she was over-reaching.

"No, tai-sho."

Andrew let that hang in the air between them and took another bite of the biscuit. She did not leave.

"Then why are you not conning it, tai-sa?" he said.

"I am needed here."

Despite it all, he enjoyed the younger woman's audacity. "Indeed," he said, channeling Minobu's response to the late Michi Noketsuna's various questions.

"Indeed," she repeated, knowing the comment well. "We have more than one mission, tai-sho--"

"--You are not lecturing a senior officer in the DCMS about his duties," he said with a finality. She had swiftly crossed the line there and he knew he was well within his rights to order her shot, or at least relieved. A general's authority in the DCMS was near absolute in combat. But he wouldn't, because he was Ryuken.

She had the grace to look frightened and bowed low. He sensed she wouldn't let the matter drop.

"Why must we secure the Dragoons' factories?" he said slowly. Other than we were ordered to by the Prefecture Commander, he said mentally.

Ysabeau straightened. "They still possess secrets they are not sharing with us. After we have given them a home, after we have given them so much."

"So ka," he said, continuing to channel Warlord Tetsuhara. "What they will not give in friendship we will take in betrayal."

"Iie!" she whispered fiercely. Andrew saw her defiance crumble at his bluntness.

"They are not our dogs. They are not our servants." He paused, turning his whole body towards her. "They are warriors, fellow warriors, to be respected. Nothing is expected of them beyond their service."

He waited until she gathered the strength to look at him in the eyes. "We need them more than we need their technology," he said, almost gently.

She bowed again, this time less stiffly.

He waited for her to rise then looked at her evenly. "Report to your 'Mech."

[Marwynn]

220 km east of Elusian City, Nirasaki
Dieron Military District, Draconis Combine
24 January 3030


Tai-sa Abe Ito sneezed as he shut the cockpit's air cyclers. Whatever was blooming on Nirasaki right now was making his eyes water and his nose itch. He had just enough warning to flick open the neurohelm; a smeared faceplate and visor was the last thing he needed on his first true campaign as the field commander of a Ryuken regiment.

Ryuken-ichi had been heavily used in the recent Succession War. They had less downtime than the other regiments, often splitting up to act in support of District Regulars and doing the job of a regiment with just a reinforced battalion. Their reunion a few months ago came with several promotions. His was the most unexpected and it took Warlord Tetsuhara himself to insist on the Bureau of Substitution to authorize it.

He had command experience and he got the job done, and that was enough for the tai-sho. And Tai-sho Chou's word was enough for Tai-shu Tetsuhara. He hoped to repay them for their trust.

His Grasshopper pounded away, leading not exactly from the front, but close enough that he could give orders judging from his own eyes and not just from reports. The word had come down: "Engage Waco's Rangers."

Abe felt relief. He had been wary of attempting to communicating with the Wolf's Dragoons; the last thing they'd welcome would be more 'Mechs on their world. They were still refusing comms.

Killing Waco's Rangers, however, was all the communications they needed to send.

Ryuken-ichi flowed across Nirasaki's pristine landscape and he felt a surge of pride at their precision. It was Ryuken-ni, Minobu Tetsuhara's unit, that was known as the elite of the formation. Abe had spent the last few months drilling -ichi to match them, at least in maneuvering, as he worked to draw out his warriors' strengths.

Manticore tanks kept pace with him, opening up and closing in with him as the land flowed. Their turrets were perfectly angled when they stopped rotating, covering likely ambush zones and advances just in case something slipped through their scouts and pickets. APCs of various kinds trailed behind his main 'Mechs, hauling two battalions of -ichi's infantry regiment. Some even had their own vehicles, zipping around in half-tracks and hoverbikes.

Reports beeped into his readouts and he tapped down the commands to his battalion and lance commanders. They reacted as soon as they acknowledged, splitting the regiment into three so smoothly that even Abe wondered if it had been practiced ahead of time.

The Ranger force, mauled survivors mixed in with untouched warmachines, turned to face his main element. They rested on a small, bowl-shaped rise, away from the crash site that had been a battlefield.

Tai-sa Ito approved of their response; their vehicles were repositioning and keeping their hulls protected, their few infantry training their field guns on his 'Mechs.

Honour dictated that they charge up the hill and slaughter the enemy at their strongest. The cost of men and materiel be damned. The Coordinator's bushido said otherwise.

Abe hesitated a moment before pounding forward, his third of -ichi following him uphill, flowing like liquid steel. The Rangers fired first, at extreme range. The tai-sa expected it: the Rangers wouldn't have the luxury of running out of ammo before they were slaughtered.

He thumbed a trigger and the Grasshopper's large laser licked out, melting the barrel of a chittering field gun and vapourizing its crew just as their artillery fell. The rise became a volcano as massive shells exploded apart the fieldworks and prepared positions, the field guns and the hull-down tanks.

Men and women abandoned their weapons, their vehicles, and ran down the other side, away from them. The Rangers' 'Mechs closed ranks, firing and hoping to buy them time.

Tai-sa Ito shook his head as the Ranger 'Mechs started to fall, their backs torn apart from precise fire as two-thirds of Ryuken-ichi charged from behind.

In Ito's mind there was no contradiction between the old and the new doctrines; he took the hill as honour demanded and as wisely as his Lord required.

Ryuken-ichi flexed and uncurled again as the regiment flowed down the rise. They trod on the dead who had abandoned their posts, the tai-sa paying the deserters no mind.

Beyond the piles of smashed and burnt corpses, jade and dark-green 'Mechs from Wolf's Dragoons' Beta Regiment waited for them.

A blue-and-gold Archer stood in front.

[lowrolling]

Well that is how to become a welcome house guest.

[Marwynn]

Unity Palace, Imperial City, Luthien
Pesht Military District, Draconis Combine
31 January 3030


Tai-sho Esau Olivares didn't possess a subtle bone in his body. Theodore heard the large man's footfalls despite all the distractions of his office, his strong voice bleeding through the closed door as he was ushered in.

He stomped right up to his desk and bowed deeply. "Tono-sama!" the new commander of the Legions of Vega said.

Theodore was surprised. His japanese pronounciation improved, though it was still awkward. He rose gently and returned the bow, a smile on his face. "Esau!" he said, extending a hand which the big man took. "Good that you're here," he added.

The tai-sho's grin grew and sat down as Theodore gestured for him to.

"Sorry I couldn't award the promotion myself," Theodore said. "It looks good on you, by the way."

"Never thought I'd see it myself, tono-sama! Me! A malfin' general, can-you-believe-it?"

"I can. I did sign the order," he added with a smile. They shared an easy laugh with that. Each knowing the other remembered just how close they were to seriously hurting each other the first time they met, when Theodore was dumped into the dregs of the DCMS. The Legion had been a great place for him. He needed them now.

"How's Chris taking it?" Theodore asked. He had promoted Esau over Sho-sho Nordica by two grades. It was the sort of favouritism officers expected in the DCMS, but it still caused resentment.

"She's good, tono-sama." Esau smiled. "We... uhh... 'worked it out'."

Theodore couldn't help but laugh. It took a special type to admit to that to a superior officer, much less the Coordinator himself.

"And Michael Heise's replacement? How's he been?" Theodore asked after a moment. Heise's treason was as easy to prove as it was difficult to investigate further. Abandoning his duties and allowing Xinyang to be invaded by Marcus' forces lead to the Imperial Institute of Technology's infamous "sacking". Even the yakuza now had strands of research into the Helm Memory Core. Ninyu hadn't said where they'd taken Heise, and frankly Theodore didn't care.

"Whiny and entitled," Olivares said unflinchingly. "But he's good in a fight. Damned deadly. Pride's just wounded and all. You know the type, little lordling banished to the Legions..."

"I like him already," Theodore said.

"He beat your record, tono-sama." Theodore's eyes widened. "Two full points, in an Orion too. Heh."

Theodore smiled thinly at that. Esau knew just how to appeal to his vanity. His Orion's combat efficiency record was one of the high points mentioned in his record, his active service record. Now, it'd belong to Tai-sa Banks.

"Well, someone had to," he said. "Eventually."

Esau barked out a laugh, seeing through his words.

"That's good, all good. But I asked you to come here for a reason."

Olivares' chuckling stopped. He leaned forward, earnest and conspiratorial. "Anything."

"I need to see the rest of the Combine, even beyond. I can't stay on Luthien forever--"

"--I can't blame you, tono-sama. The heat!--"

"--and I need to see things for myself."

Tai-sho Esau Olivares stood abruptly, scraping his seat on the floor. The Otomo in the room didn't tense, but their attention was now even more on him, if that was possible, until the large, red-haired man bowed.

"When do we leave?"


--------------------------------------------------------------------

Imperial City, Luthien
Pesht Military District, Draconis Combine
3 February 3030


"This is a bad idea."

"My mother agrees with you," Theodore said airily. He felt Daniella frown and relax at the same time.

"Then you should listen to one of us."

"I have, and I'm glad you think so too," Theodore said sincerely. He moved out of the bed and quickly dressed. "I hope you're packed--"

"--You can't leave Luthien! Not now..." the young woman said, sitting up. "Theodore, your realm is still a mess. And it's your fault it's a mess--"

"That's why I have to be out there. To see it for myself." His voice hardened more than he expected it to. He was Kurita, and no Dragon liked being told what to do in their own lair.

Daniella Avellar, niece of Neil Avellar, the President of the Outworlds Alliance, mustered all the decorum she could with the ruffled sheets and began dressing as well. These 'negotiations' had to be brief enough to not arouse suspicion and long enough to matter. Pragmatically, she had to go back to Alpheratz and make the case for cooperating with the Combine personally. Theodore knew she knew that. She clung to Luthien anyway.

"We can't leave together," she finally said.

"No," he agreed. "But we are meeting on Pesht; you're scheduled to tour the new facilities and I'll be dropping in..."

"You'll be leaving him here, alone."

"I know."

She stood, fully dressed, and turned towards him. The hot, humid Luthien air blew from the windows, wafting her hair. He watched her, letting the balm of her presence enter the places that still hurt. She finally smiled and he returned it.

"Well, Coordinator, thank you for these last minute negotiations. I'll be sure to convey your wishes to the president."

"Tell him he needs to lose some weight," Theodore said formally.

Daniella guffawed and Theodore treasured that sound.


--------------------------------------------------------------------

Unity Palace, Imperial City, Luthien
Pesht Military District, Draconis Combine
5 February 3030


"--and you'll be back? Soon, I mean."

"It'll be as if I never left," Theodore promised. Franklin, on the cusp of adulthood, mixed wariness with hope. "Focus on your training--all of your training."

"Hai," his son said with a bow.

Theodore ruffled his son's hair. "You recover fast. That's good. I guarantee your trainers will exploit your robust health."

Franklin sighed and Theodore knew the boy would find a way to escape his training. He turned to his mother.

"This is not wise," she repeated. "I told you what your father has allowed the Or--"

"Mother," he said softly. "This is what I must do. Stay safe," he said. "Please."

She grasped him, holding him for a very long time.

They wouldn't see him off. The shuttle to the 11th Legion of Vega's DropShips would lift off without fanfare. Luthien would believe the Coordinator was in the palace, sitting on the throne, guiding their fates with a steady, if bloodstained, hand.

Grandmother and grandson would find a way to watch, despite his wishes. He allowed this.

Theodore Kurita walked up to the egg-shaped shuttle's ramp. His simple soldier's uniform conflicted with the squads of Otomo securing the area. He hid a smile and tipped his hat low on his face.

The dropshuttle rose on silver-flame, roaring as it left Luthien's dank heat behind.

It exploded before leaving the atmosphere.

[pensiveswetness]

*jaw drops* Oh....dear...

[curtis424]

I've lost track of all the Kurita casualties, who is the next one in line? And do they want it....

[Ajax_Wolf]

I've lost track of all the Kurita casualties, who is the next one in line? And do they want it....

I think Franklin is, that is if Teddy is really did. He wanted to tour the Combine and what better way for him to go about unnoticed then for everyone to think him dead?

[misterpants]

"What could he have meant by that?" - attributed to Metternich on Talleyrand's death.

[mighty midget]

Being "dead" would give Teddy the ability to sneakily deal with the problems he's facing while working on his swordsmanship at the same time.

[Dave Talley]

not to mention having just come back from the dead, who is gonna believe it,
even if he is really dead, he just became the kuritan elvis,
I can see the sequinned Orion now

[Marwynn]

No comment.

 ;)

To those who may not frequent the Design Boards... frequent them! Stuff I couldn't add to this directly, I expand a bit on there. Usually there's some 'Mechs or Vees with (AU) in their subject line. Read the fluff, it provides some... insight. Keep in mind though that the writer of those TROs aren't always right about what they say.

[pensiveswetness]

Boss, i like screamed when i realized i cant make Fuel-cell engines with HMV...  ::)

[lowrolling]

Well that was one maintenance check that was missed.

[snakespinner]

Well who's next in line. >:D

[Marwynn]

Boss, i like screamed when i realized i cant make Fuel-cell engines with HMV...  ::)

Solaris Armor Works is your friend!