Hidden Hope (Golden Lion AU, Part 4)

[AlphaMirage]

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.”

[PsihoKekec]

It is common knowledge that drones do no talk.

Fighting Intelectuals: ''Challenge accepted.''

[AlphaMirage]

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?”

[PsihoKekec]

Phelan making new friends, this ought to be good.

[AlphaMirage]

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.”

[AlphaMirage]

“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.”

[PsihoKekec]

Hopefully the prisoner was talkative.

I presume that was the RL version of JJs, given their punch in a single go.

[AlphaMirage]

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.”

[Gorgon]

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?

[AlphaMirage]

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.”

[PsihoKekec]

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?

[AlphaMirage]

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).

[AlphaMirage]

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.”

[PsihoKekec]

This is going to be a big one.
I presume the Coalition is assembly of various Belter communities throughout the Inner Sphere.

[Gorgon]

So... a big ComStar (& friends) VS united Clans full-scale fleet battle? This is gonna be fun 

[AlphaMirage]

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.”

[AlphaMirage]

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.

[AlphaMirage]

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'

[PsihoKekec]

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)?

[AlphaMirage]

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.

[AlphaMirage]

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.”

[PsihoKekec]

Target that shoots back is not an easy target.

[AlphaMirage]

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.”

[PsihoKekec]

Into the breach,
into the bloodbath

[AlphaMirage]

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."

[PsihoKekec]

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!

[Gorgon]

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.

[AlphaMirage]

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.

[AlphaMirage]

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.”

[PsihoKekec]

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?