Because why is Comstar the only people who get to have century long conspiracies?
“We’re losing,” General Thomas said to his protector. Mitchell had died a month ago, and he’d finally managed to get a meeting with Marantha Calderon.
Marantha looked at him. “Some would say that’s defeatist.”
“Some are grasping at straws,” he answered. “If the Star League hasn’t given up by now, they won’t—they have already neutralized most of our fleet.”
“So surrender?”
“It may come to that, but that’s not my job. My job is to come up with contingencies to preserve the Concordat—or one day free it.”
“Operation Exodus.”
“No, that was Jacob’s idiocy.” Thomas frowned. “Protector Calderon, running away with a thousand, ten thousand, or ten million people isn’t going to help. All it will do is give the League a reason to follow, and if we go far enough away that they can’t, that’s effectively leaving forever and ignoring the remaining population of the Concordat.” He shook his head. “And an isolated population… no. That may be the way to survive in some out of the way planet as farmers, but it means the end of the Concordat.”
“Well, then you have a suggestion.”
“My people are calling it operation “Rats in the Walls.” Thomas said. “Everyone expects any possible flight to go outward. My plan is to move inward.”
Marantha blinked. “I don’t understand.”
“There are many low population worlds, worlds looking for investment. And people looking for investment don’t ask when investors show up,” he gestured at the image on the holomap, the Lyran Commonwealth highlighted. “There are a number of worlds like that in the Commonwealth, along with border worlds. We can ship our transports, keep them in systems without planets and maintain the production ability we need…” he turned and smirked. “And we can pop off to the corner store for toilet paper.”
“You think they won’t notice?” Marantha asked.
“Notice refugees, eager to come in and make a new life?” Thomas shook his head. “I expect they will. But many of these worlds have a few hundred million, maybe a billion.” He called up one world. “Great X has fewer than 150 million people living on it, and they have been… interested in immigration.”
“Of Taurians.”
“Of hard, educated workers, who desire to help the Lyran Commonwealth and would never dream of going back to their benighted world.”
Marantha leaned back and frowned. “And in a hundred years, they will be Lyran Commonwealth citizens. I mean, from a humanitarian view point it works, but…”
“Ah, but that’s the first, open string in our bow.” Thomas smiled. “Most of them will just be immigrants, but we’ll have our people in there, with enough seed money to establish businesses. Perfectly ordinary, civilian businesses. And forgive me Protector, but you’ve worked with planetary authorities. How likely is it that someone is going to complain about a company that employees workers and pays its taxes on time?”
“Not much.”
“The second string is what nobody will find.” Thomas gestured at a sheet. “We have orbital shipyards, mobile stations, and our remaining damaged ships. They can leave, not long before any… Conclusion to the hostilities. Nobody has ever been able to track a jump, so as long as they stick to uninhabited systems, they’re safe. Once established, we can rebuild our forces, drawing suitable candidates from our refugee communities, and… Preparing.”
“Preparing for what?”
Thomas stared at Marantha. “Well now, that depends on how the war ends, doesn’t it?” He shook his head. “But if this works out, we can wait ten, a hundred, or a thousand years if it demands it, but we will never forsake the Concordat, and when the time is right, we will free it.”
2592 Great X
Count David Wildmark stood staring at the new settlement.
“Your people are dedicated laborers, Mr. Williams.” He said. “Some of my advisers had concerns when you came here, fearing that you intended to continue your war against the Star League.”
“My people only wish to contribute to those who have granted us a new home.” The man said.
And we shall not talk about the bribes, David decided. But as such things went, they weren’t bad—investment into the community, coupled with the fact that many of the refugees were former Taurian engineers who could build and industrialmech factory. He would keep watch on them, but the factory was clearly civilian…
And David couldn’t help but quietly feel sorry for them. The Periphery had to be brought to the light of civilization… but he felt uncomfortable watching the vids of the Star League and Davion’s blasting their way through the Concordat. He would show the refugees the kindly side of the Inner Sphere, not the PPC.
2598 Refuge
TCS Valor
The last unsurrendered Condordat ship floated in space, surrounding a brown dwarf with only a few moons, it’s only identifier an alphanumeric string provided by a bored Terran Cartographer. The Winchester had been heavily damaged at Robsart, pulled in and refitted as a transport ship—but most of the records hadn’t been updated, because the Valor had been listed as officially destroyed at Robsart. So some quick work and the information had been swapped with the commercial jumpship Valor, and the Star League wouldn’t care about that.
The same had gone for everything else taken. Machine tools, mining platforms, things that had been listed as destroyed or stolen, or the kind of things a fleeing unit might take to sell. Ditto for a good chunk of the Concordat treasury, with a long paper trail leading to a group of guards who decided to bury it beyond the reach of the hated Davions.
Thomas snorted. There had been stories of small groups of Davion Troops going rogue and hunting for that even before they’d jumped away. Right now, it was sitting safe, or being carefully laundered by their criminal connections who believed that they were working with rogue Davion soldiers who had found some of it.
Factories, mining platforms, everything needed, especially when, after the dust had settled, they could order parts from established companies. If the Star League was looking for them, they’d be looking outward, for worlds full of new farms, colonists trying to create a new life.
Not inside, to hidden orbital stations, being fed and supplied by quite legal businesses that had nothing to do with building new warmachines. Oh no. With time, Thomas expected that most of those settlements would assimilate, but there would always be enough. Always enough to recruit, from here, or once the SLDF became complacent, from Taurus. After all, a few hundred, thousand or tens of thousands of people was drop in the bucket when you talked about worlds of millions.
And one day… One day, the time would come, and his nation would be free. He swore it.
