Never Coming Home (A Ngo story by Cannonshop)

[Trace Coburn]

[[Posted 19-12-2006, 10:38:26]]

 
October 11,  3079, Assembly Point Bravo, 1 jump from Skye...

Galaxy Commander Nathan Roshak looked out the window of Emerald Roc at the gathered fleet.  Behind him, technician caste and freebirth Warship Crew buzzed and hummed about their tasks.
"Like the old days, when the Inner Sphere was exotic."  a voice said behind him. "During the preparations for Revival."

Nathan recognized that dry tone.  "Star Admiral."  He greeted the man without turning,  "I do not think our preparations then included quite so many...improvisations." 

The other man laughed, "Truth.  If you told me then that we would be assembling at an uninhabited system for a joint assault alongside Wolf and Spheroid units, I would have called you a liar, and we would have ended up in a trial of grievance."

"What is the delay, Star Admiral?"  Nathan finally turned around.

"The usual, our 'allies' are disorganized, there are arguments between force commanders...oh, and you seem to be missing meetings with a regularity that General LaFollette finds distressing." the Star Admiral said with an ironic smirk.

"So I have."  He popped a No-Smok, and drew in a lungful.  "I take it we are still waiting on units to make the rendezvous?"

"Neg.  They made it here, but I have been asked if we can take on additional bodies-it seems that three Tramp class vessels blew their Helium seals on arrival."  Malthus said.

"The Lyrans can not care for their own men?" he asked.

"Kowloonese."  Malthus said, "Ersatzkampfgruppe Eight, Twelve, and Fifteen."

"Ah... an airborne infantry regiment, their second attempt at a battlesuit company, and the more typical Emergency formation.  Lots of bodies...and if we take them, then the Wolves will be unencumbered in their quest for Glory, since they will have a Heavy Battlemech unit, while we will be 'stuck' with the nominally less-capable along our invasion route."  Nathan smiled.

Malthus looked concerned.  "Galaxy commander?"

"I was remembering my own trip to Kowloon, in 64."  He shuffled his feet on the grip-strips, and asked, "Star Admiral, do we have the room?"

"Three ships have empty docking collars, and we have a Merchant-caste transport vessel that can shift some of their cargo.  You are not seriously considering this, are you?"  Malthus asked.

"I have met their fathers in battle, therefore...I am.  Ucouth, barbaric, badly armed, I think they will be a better force-multiplier for us than the Guards regiment we were supposed to be going in with."  He reached down, and tapped the bulkhead, "Most Lyrans have, as my experiences show, a lot of 'quit'.  Kowloonese Lyrans do not...and they bring combat engineers, which, unless the Blakists have completely lost all sense, we are going to need."  He re-folded his arms.  "They bring intangibles we can use."

"..and they are not Lucrewarriors."  Malthus said, finally lightening his expression.

"There is that."  Nathan said with a nod, "Let the Wolves deal with their Lapdog cousins and the Kell Hounds.  These people are here for the same reason we are.  Revenge."

Oh god, I can't wait for this one.

We've had a story of Falcons fighting against the Kowloonese, a story of Falcons arguing with the Kowloonese....now we see Falcons and Kowloonese side by side.  I predict that initial contact will be much like the arguing and fighting stories, but the moment the first Blakist sticks his head out of a foxhole, something truly nasty is gonna be staring him down.  [Skull]

Did the Clans ever fight like this against the Word (in any sourcebooks or novels)?

MWDA source material says that during the Jihad, Clan forces did indeed fight and cooperate alongside Spheroid armies to forward their mutual goal of toasting the Toasters, though I'm not sure of the extent. I suspect we'll get our first look in the next Hot Spots book, when the Ghost Bears start playing real hardball. Anyone know if the Nova Cats started joining the fight by 3072?

This would be the one time I would play ANY other faction.  WoB is gonna get thier collective asses handed to them. :o

It might be along the lines of the Kowloon and Clan troops have been mad at each other for a long time, but when a third party comes on the scene, the first two will shoot him to get back to their argument.

This should be, 'interesting'.  The Jade Falcons will be free to practice highly mobile warfare, and the Kowloons will have reliable spotting intel on enemy positions. If the WoB come out to fight, the Clans kill them.  If the WoB stay hunkered down, Kowloon kills them.

Also, as the artillery can support each other, this means that there will not be as many juicy targets for WoB nuclear strikes.  Kowloon troops can place the artillery in rolling terrain, and use the hills as decent cover.  A nuke launched against one artillery base will not kill others.

Then again, Cannonshop is known for writing intelligent opponents on both sides, so I wonder what WoB will have ready and waiting. CyberMechs, viral attacks, optical telescopes on a moon to spot enemy ships for ground-launched nukes, other nasty stuff?

Hmm, interesting attitude for a CBT officer, reflects Johnny Rico's in "Starship Troopers", 'Better an empty spot than a soldier nursing conscript syndrome', or in this case the Clan version, 'Better a Cluster of conventional forces that fight, than a Galaxy of Elsie Mechs that might be give up before the battle is done.'  Though to be fair the average Elsie soldiers and mechwarriors are likely as brave and skilled as other House armies, and their line officers seem alright, at least the ones in combat commands.  THe real rot starts at Staff Officers, aka 'Social Generals'.  Shades of Gilbert and Sullivan there, 'polishing up the brass knocker faithfully'.  ::)

So you mean the Kowloonese will have a Respectable and dependable military force supporting them?

I think that 3079 the Lyran officers who perpetuated the stereotype are extinct, wiped out through a combination of stupidity, poor training and enemies who were trained to exploit the social general.

As of 3079 everyone who is still in fighting condition is qualified to be there to fight, that goes for the Clans, the Lyrans, the Kowllonese and the WOB.

I think that 3079 the Lyran officers who perpetuated the stereotype are extinct, wiped out through a combination of stupidity, poor training and enemies who were trained to exploit the social general.

As of 3079 everyone who is still in fighting condition is qualified to be there to fight, that goes for the Clans, the Lyrans, the Kowllonese and the WOB.

Given the amount of fighting that had been going on in the immediate previous time period, I'd tend to agree.  The Fed Com Civil War probably went a long way towards reducing the number of "social generals" in Lyran service, and the Jihad would probably eliminate the rest.  By the tail end of the Jihad, the LAAF officer corps should be a pretty efficient bunch.

Kowloonese and Falcons on the same task force/ships lots of problems until combat time then I see the Kowloonese putting aside the problems until the blakists are dealt with. I almost feel sorry for the poor WOB SOB's  }:)

One thing about social generals, they usually aren't on the front line and are first in line for the dustoff. The LA could be swimming in them, because they not only have the old ones, but keep producing them almost exponetionaly.

Don't forget that in the main timeline, it was those very social generals who deposed Archon Peter S-D in favour of Archon Adam Steiner. Which implies that they still wielded considerable influence...

Yea but I don't have the details of the change in power. So I don't know how involved Peter and Adam were in the change over. It could have been an abdication by Peter with the support of the social generals. It could also end up being a hostile move on Adam's part who used the generals because he could.

IIRC, Peter was assasinated. Adam then took the throne and eliminated the Brotherhood of Cincinattus, the very peolpe who got him the throne. Whether Adam advocated the removal of Peter I don't seem to recall

Peter was removed from office by a coup d'etat. That suggests strongly he didn't willingly step down. On the other hand Technology of Destruction did not explicitly say he was killed during the coup, and the difference between a coup and an assassination is sufficiently large that they aren't exchangable to describe a situation.

[Trace Coburn]

[[Posted 21-12-2006, 00:18:26]]

 
LAS Troopship Ninety Seven...

The Mekong was a heavy-hauler dropper of anonymous pedigree, that had been converted to a troopship.  To Nathan Roshak, it looked like the conversion had been done in one Hell of a hurry.  Bare spray-on insulation covered the walls and floors, equipment in the main bays was tied down with Neo-kevlar straps on pallets designed to interlock horizontally and vertically, with mechanical hoist systems so that as the lower level drove off, the uppers dropped down.  To his practiced eye, the entire arrangement was inherently unsafe.

The lifts were open, moving between pressurized areas through sliding airlocks linked nose-to-tail (Floor to ceiling).  His guides led him through a maze of equipment and improvised living areas, toward the nose.  as he followed, he noted the exposed cable and wiring runs, the piping that was (unsafely) run exposed as well, and the general signs that this ship had launched before it had been finished.

"What class is this?" he asked.

"Um? Class, Sar? Oh... Ah, I don't think they deigned to give it one-it's a landing ship.  I think this one was built on Winter..." The hatchway ahead of them was a manual pressure door.  The crewman rushed forward, and cranked it open.

The other side of the door had more of the same-only less heavy equipment, and some actual cubicles.  There was also paint in here.

"I see."  They reached a door that was painted dull-green on the dull-gray wall.  Stenciled on the door was 'Southwest Division General's Office'. a hand-painted picture of a predatory animal snarled below it.

Nathan looked to his guide, "I can find my own way out, pray continue in your duties."

The crewer managed a salute in null-gee, then hurried off.  Nathan turned the manual hatch-dog, and entered without knocking.

"It is generally considered courteous to knock, or announce yourself before entering a room, Galaxy Colonel Nathan Roshak."  the voice was metallic, with a slight souzaphone tone-the tone of a badly tuned vox-box.  This voice belonged to a face, and that face was one that Nathan had learned to know before.

"The last I heard, General Mosovich, you had a prosthetic mask that covered that rather well."  He said, "I trust Morgan is doing well as always?"

"Morgan's on Ninety-Nine, and that would be Colonel Icaza when you address him." she replied-that same, toneless, expressionless voice.  "He's going to be glad you're doing well."

"Both of you?  Here?"  Nathan asked, surprised.

"Yeah, Cho would have come as well, but she's babysitting the Duchess back home.  I've got better than three SLDF Division's worth of men, and we need a ride, I guess that would be why you're here?"  Mosovich replied, "Oh, manners, right... tea?"  she offered him a drink-bulb.

"Thank you, I will... I hardly expected to see the Ersatzkampfgruppen Heeres Commander being yourself.  I thought they would have reserved the honour for someone from a more...prominent...background."  Nathan said, catching the bulb and popping the seal.

"Well... let's see... We have a bunch of scrapped-together landing ships with shit for defensive-armament and thin armour, crewed by periphery-edge crews that six months ago had trouble spelling 'flight', carrying around seventy five thousand troops that are rated 'green',  without Battlemechs or other high-profile ground gear, just conventional troopies, field artillery, ammo, and bodies, into a known meatgrinder with insufficient fighter cover.  Nobody else wanted the job, and we sure as hell didn't want Liz coming along to shame the Krauts into taking it."

"I was given the impression that there were only thirty-five thousand..."  He said.

"Not all our jumpers blew out.  Just the three on-loan from the LAAF's department of Quartermaster."  she passed documents across to him.  "Sure enough, wouldn't you know that they're all three salvage jobs from Alarion orbit?"

"This is not just a call to determine transportation arrangements, I have prevailed on the over-all commander to reassign the bulk of your assets to support the Jade Falcon offensive."  Nathan prounounced.

Mosovich nodded, "I got the call.  Something about you giving him an early birthday or something.  I don't think LaFollette likes me.  I know he doesn't like the plan I'm endorsing.  The guy doesn't seem to 'get' the idea that we don't need the frikking spaceport to land."

"Water insertions?" Nathan asked.

"Your zone has several major waterways, and a bay,  Tell you the truth, the ****** landing jacks on these trash-piles aren't that solid, but there's a nice, thick, heavy, bottom on all of 'em.  we can manage a splashdown a lot more easily, and the loading-pallets are set up to serve as barges-just hit the 'd' rings, and they inflate in the presence of water-we can offload about twice as fast..." she trailed off.

"The problem being you can not launch-it is one-way unless the dropship can be raised later and repaired."  Nathan said.

she nodded, "Yah.  and that's the problem LaFollette has-he wants the ability to bug-out if it gets too hot...problem is, if it gets that hot, these things won't survive trying to make orbit anyway-much less boogey out the system."

Nathan frowned, and nodded, "Aff, I noticed... How did they get you to accept this assignment?"

she shrugged, "Fight them away from home, and they stay too busy to make real trouble at home.  Also, a lot of people lost people when they hit us last time.  Most of my boys would go if they had to walk here, naked.  Folks back home, they want revenge."

[Trace Coburn]

[[Posted 21-12-2006, 09:42:24]]

 
JFS Von Jankmon's Pride, Clan Star Lord Class, 1800 Hours, 12 October, 3079...

"What a piece of junk."  Sadwell was a merchant-Caste, he watched the elsie transport dropper line up.  "They want to carry warriors in That? I would not carry Dead animals in something that rattletrap!"

Star Captain Vera, the Warrior-Caste commander, snorted.  "Not Warriors, Sadwell, Conscript Soldiers.  The equivalent would be underage Solahma, at least, in terms of how they are treated.  As for training..." she shrugged,  "Reports say they are brave, and competent once they are on the ground."

Junk or not, the docking indicators turned green, indicating a proper interface and seal.

Sadwell shook his head, looking out the viewport at the landing-ship.  "Ten thousand men in that thing.  It looks like they cobbled it together out of parts."

Vera shrugged, "You have your orders, Sadwell-Merchant, Perhaps your time would better be spent in preparations, we jump in one hour."

Sadwell sighed and headed back to the Navigation centre.

Vera stood at the interlock a little longer.  We would have done better.

She kicked off the bulkhead, and floated up the main passageway, past Techs and Labourers getting the ship ready for jump.  The four  generic "Transport ships" had improvised names-their registries only contained bare number-designations, and her one trip aboard Ninety-Five had been alarming to a Jade Falcon Elemental-bred Marine.  Bare insulation, exposed piping, gear crammed onto roll-pallets, and men sleeping in areas hollowed between equipment because there were no proper quarters on the whole thing.  The line at the latrine points on each deck was long, and the place reeked of Crowded bodies, lubricants, and curing insulation. 
The landing ships are not designed to be re-used. she hated the waste involved- but she understood it.  Proper dropships were becoming rarer, the Lyrans had few yards capable of building them, so improvisations were becoming more common, and the conscript units were large.  Moving that many conventional troops required a large number of big ships, and big ships eat resources when they are built to be re-used.

She saw a familiar face come out of the interlock for collar six.  "Alan!" she greeted the fighter-pilot.  He turned, easily in null-gee with his pilot's instinct, and rendered a greeting-salute.  "Star Captain.  I just finished a tour of their, ah... 'carrier' ship."  he said.

"I hope it was better than my ride in Landing ship Ninety-Five." she  replied.

"Well... other than it will not have atmospheric pressure after it launches its fighters and smallcraft...and the lack...well, of everything?" He was amused-sounding.  "I think our Lyran allies do not intend to re-use their dropships-at least, not without doing extensive repairs when they land...if they land, which that trashport is not designed to do."

"Trashport, good one.  Their fighters, are they even adequate?" she asked.

"Good fighters, actually, very good for Stravags.  The pilots I spoke with seem well trained, considering what they are going into battle on.  I also spoke with the CAG and the dropship crew.  Did you know that most of their crew were shoved through training in eighteen months?"

She shook her head, "I spent my tour with Colonel Nguyen, I hardly spoke to the ship-crews, but I know that they also cut into the training for the Vehicle crews pretty deeply-most of them know the vehicle they are assigned, but little else."

"Same with the dropship crew-they know battle-damage, they know the laughable systems on that ship, and that is where it ends-they know damned little about anything else."  He fell in beside her, "Insane, they would have to recieve another three years' training to be anywhere close to up-to-standard on any other type."

"What about the fighter unit?" she asked.

"The fighter units are competent, the techs are good, the ships are in good shape, and the pilots, as I said, know what they are about, even with the rather...poor...quality of their technology."

Ouch, just ouch.

I mean, everything sounds hastily slapped-together.  A carrier ship that basically has to be abandoned after launching her birds?  The slap-dash feel of the troop transports (which feel like Mammoths with damn near everything, including adaquate engines, missing)?

Is there any wonder their Tramps "asploded"?

Reminds me of a story a guy I knew who was in the Royal Navy during WW2 told me: he was given the job of driving a landing craft onto the beaches during D-Day. The only thing he ever told me about it was he was damn glad to get back onto his old ship (a destroyer) afterwards...

Reminds me of the hastily converted banana freighter my grandfather sailed on when he was sent to Australia during WWII (he was taken off at New Caledonia because they were short of men, and the new orders were lost when the flying boat carrying them crashed.)

Ouch, just ouch.

I mean, everything sounds hastily slapped-together.  A carrier ship that basically has to be abandoned after launching her birds?  The slap-dash feel of the troop transports (which feel like Mammoths with damn near everything, including adaquate engines, missing)?

Is there any wonder their Tramps "asploded"?

Let's see... It's late in the Jihad, most of the Lyran industrial base has been destroyed, the battles are claiming people by the thousands... yah, slapdash is what you get.  The conditions practically dictate that your logistics are hashed and whatever you're building is somewhere that hasn't been blown to bits yet, it's going to be slapped together using recipe-book and either common, or easily-built components, it's going to be built in a hurry, and may (in the case of transports) start loading cargo before it's off the production line, because you don't know when the next surprise attack is going to turn your shipyard into a radioactive crater, or your workforce into piles of rotting, contaminated meat.  Deleting systems that cost a lot, or that require specialized equipment, is one way to get stuff rolling out there in a desperate hurry.

Kind of like drafting vast quantities of infantrymen because your 'mech lines are a shambles...

Liberty Class Dropships in other words.  My dad is a welding engineer, and in his opinion, 'Never mind the Germans, the crews of those ships should have gotten hazard pay just for sailing out of port on one of those ships.'  Same deal, build it fast, build it cheap, ideally if it survives it's first trip then it's payed for itself.  Any that survive are a bonus.

[Trace Coburn]

[[Posted 22-12-2006, 09:27:37]]

 
JFS Emerald Roc...

Star Admiral Adrian Malthus rubbed his temples, and looked out across the control centre of a mighty Jade Falcon warship.  "Secure for Jump in ten minutes."  He finally ordered, and looked at the tech-report again, just to remind himself how damned glad he should be to be a Jade Falcon, to have a ship that wasn't cobbled together with unskilled labour on some dirtbag world out on the edge of civilization, to NOT have to eat reprocessed mush for ninety days on a carrier-dropship that would become nearly worthless the moment it opens its doors, part of a mass-army that was thrown together in frantic haste...
How glad he was not to be hurled into the fire.

If we had finished the Great Crusade, these people would not be about to die an awful death in space.  He thought,  well... maybe they will not be about to die that awful death-we are here now.

He had seen the surviving vid and reports from the mission in '75, the disaster.

"Jump calculations entered, Star Admiral."  Rory, the senior NavTech announced.

"On my mark."  Adrian said, and watched the clock, but in his mind's eye, he saw ruptured ships ambushed at their arrival, bodies spinning in darkness, frozen eyes staring forever at nothing.

"All sections report secure, the board is green."  Jason, the DC Officer reported.

"Engineering reports full power." Chief Engineer Andrew announced.

"Load is secured, our passengers are ready."  The Loadmaster, Jennifer, announced.

the checklist finished, Adrian leaned back in his command-couch, "Mark."

Discontinuity

[Trace Coburn]

[[Posted 23-12-2006, 16:55:23]]

 
Emergence Point Juliet Foxtrot, 0300 hours, local time...

The deployment strategy was a compromise.  How to get the ground-troops on the ground in their rattletrap vessels through layered defenses manned by fanatics?

The first assault failed at the emergence-point, the lesson of 3075 was that a standard, Kerensky-style march from the Zenith would only end in disaster.

Adrian Malthus chose his emergence point carefully.  Braving ground-based defenses and orbital stations being superior in his eyes to trying to slog through a defender with both range, and time, on his side.

"Release Drop-collar and begin the burn for the surface."  Captain Li ordered.  Landing Ship Ninety Five shuddered, and pulled away from the Clan jumpship.  On the other side of the jump-spine, Ninety three and Carrier Four also broke loose, and began their re-entry burn.

"Our Father who art in heaven, whatever be thy name, thy kingdom come..."  Jennings was intoning as he worked the manuevering controls,

"...Thy will be done..."  Petty Officer Matthews, at the portside fire controls murmured,

"...in life as in death, beneath the Eternal tree of life..."  Lt. Sui in engineering, four decks down, murmurred...

"...for in Valhalla and Hel, we stand for our fathers..." PFC James Cu'ong, from Ia Drang recited,

"...Our souls will sit light on the scales of Osiris..." Lt. Ayn Winters, Alpha company muttered...

"...before the throne of the gods I stand unbowed..."  Emily Cummings felt the impact as her Slayer met the first enemy fighters...

"...hear, o israel, our god is one god..." Chaplain's mate Gordon Eisenfarbe recited, in a circle of boys from the Krautville neighbourhood of Nha Tranh, on the cargo deck of '97...


Hell blossomed in the sky, as Eighty Three's portside ruptured under the assault of a sattelite based weapon.  Men spilled into vacuum, screaming blood...

[Trace Coburn]

[[Posted 23-12-2006, 23:44:09]]

 
0445 hours, Skye...

The division of labours began to show, as Jade Falcon fighters assumed an air-superiority role, and the Coast Guard fighters lay down suppressive airstrikes around the Falcon LZ, flying pairs against air-defense installations and enemy troop concentrations. Mixed in with the cheap, hastily-built Lyran "Landing Ship" type dropships, were more conventional Clan designs, bristling with cannons and missiles.  The "Landing ships" angled toward the river, and smashed down in clouds of steam and boiling mud ejected by their engines.  Each landing was a controlled crash, and explosive bolts fired, releasing the cargo doors faster than any hydraulic or pneumatic system could move them.

Colonel Than Nguyen of the 45th Infantry Brigade peered through the swirling steam.  "Shore's that way, about fifty meters.  Release the Hounds."

the Loadmaster crew aimed devices that looked for all the world like rocket-propelled harpoons (and they were) connected to heavy coils of cable.

Whoosh-Whoosh-whoosh!!

Each PARO (Pallet Assist, Rocket, Offload) drew tight, and men braced.  This had been done in practice, on Kowloon, before, but that was without benefit of enemy fire.

Cables went taut, and the palletized loads were hauled off faster than they could have been offloaded by motorized drivers in the floor.

The first pallets hit water, and the hot water combined with a thermalplastic to create a large bubble-the technology was ancient, developed on Earth for raising sunken ships, the heat and density of the river-water forced the expansion to go very quickly.    As the tethered rockets burnt out, the pallets hit the muddy bank on the far side, stretching cables out to the dropship.

The remaining pallets moved on motorized winches, not quite as fast as the advance-team, and the advance team formed a perimeter around the beachead.

"so far, we are fortunate.  They haven't gotten here yet."  Nguyen quipped.

He did not have long to wait.

The Blakists first announced their awareness of the 45th brigade's location, by shelling the area with impact-fused Arrow-IV's.  Water fountained and hulls, now relieved of the tension of space, rang with shell fragments.  a few men died on the makeshift bridge-deck.  These were replaced by more men, coming down from the upper cargo areas to assist the Engineers.

The upper deck's plates, hinged at the base, were blown open, to fall out of the way, and the artillery tracks on the third tier, still tied to their cargo-deck, raised muzzles skyward, and began a steady thump of counterbattery.

"Enemy's less than two kliks, they'll be here in no time."  Nguyen noted out loud, "Tell the Brigade Arty to save their shells, and get offloaded."

An enemy shot hit the open cargo deck, and fragments shredded men who failed to be behind cover.

"RTO? tell the Coast Guard to find and silence those batteries."

[Trace Coburn]

[[Posted 24-12-2006, 00:06:41]]

 
1.4 Kilometers Northeast...

Cortez burned his ships on the shore of the New World.  The "Landing Ships" were designed with a similar logic.  "Win, or die, there is no retreating."
Nathan Roshak was mildly surprised at this, when he saw it.  the Landing Ships practically self-dismantled where they came down, forming instant-firebases and docks. 
"Well...Evelyn said they had no need for the spaceport..." He muttered under his breath.  "Falcon Jaegers, there are enemy units over that hill, they are firing on our allies using cowardly indirect weapons.  We shall have to teach them a Lesson about their Priorities."

Wow, this is a whole new idea of "Prefabricated" buildings and fortifications! I Like this! These "structures" may be ad-hoc in nature but the fact that they are set up "almost instantly", unlike real-life prefabricated / modular buildings and facilities, which must be carefully unloaded and assembled is...amazing.

I would also like to add that it is more realistic and faster than the Mobile Construction Vehicles of the Command and Conquer Real-time Strategy games, or the " unrealistic one-man show" worker units / peons / peasants / Construction Dozers etc. etc. of other RTSGs.

Setting up strong points / beachheads this early into the battle... but given the Word of Blake's overall superiority (Numbers, veterancy, and the fact that they are the defenders) and their...flexibility on usage of powerful weapons, the attacking task force better exploit their advantage while it lasts to strike first, strike hard and strike descisively, as well as to prevent themselves from being set up for a violent counterattack that could blunt, or even crushl the offensive.

I have the feeling that the next few battles will be VERY brutal.

Looks like Kowloon built those dropships as flying Mulberies.  Though I suspect that their planning for them is more American than British.  That is to say they are considered 'combat expendable' once they are used to get the initial rush of troops, equipment, and supplies on shore.  Getting them back is nice, but not something to break the bank trying to do.

Wow, this is a whole new idea of "Prefabricated" buildings and fortifications! I Like this! These "structures" may be ad-hoc in nature but the fact that they are set up "almost instantly", unlike real-life prefabricated / modular buildings and facilities, which must be carefully unloaded and assembled is...amazing.

I would also like to add that it is more realistic and faster than the Mobile Construction Vehicles of the Command and Conquer Real-time Strategy games, or the " unrealistic one-man show" worker units / peons / peasants / Construction Dozers etc. etc. of other RTSGs.

Setting up strong points / beachheads this early into the battle... but given the Word of Blake's overall superiority (Numbers, veterancy, and the fact that they are the defenders) and their...flexibility on usage of powerful weapons, the attacking task force better exploit their advantage while it lasts to strike first, strike hard and strike descisively, as well as to prevent themselves from being set up for a violent counterattack that could blunt, or even crushl the offensive.

I have the feeling that the next few battles will be VERY brutal.

Thanks.  I was trying to angle a way to have enough dropships to get a large force down on the ground in the Jihad era (late period), and some of the features occurred to me thanks to the other stories I've written involving Kowloon.  (big wet-naval force that also handles the Aerospace, reliance on riverine and trans-oceanic transports with small engines and big cargoes, bloody few Battlemechs, and the ones they have are old and obselete designs...)

The "Landing ship" concept I kind of extrapolated from successful Marine landings in the South Pacific, north pacific, Normandy, and Korea theatres.  the old "landing craft" you see in the movies were more reuseable than these, but... the idea is "Run aground, drop ramp, unload", and the tactic is "Seize ground, hold against all comers" (Marine Corps doctrine).

I tempered the idea with the idea that the Lyrans are desperate.  Look at Hot-Spots: Most of their 'mech manufacturing facilities, and their largest Aerospace yard, are gone by '72, either over-run, destroyed, or bio'ed into nonexistence.  They're up against a three-sided invasion (FWL province to the "south", Blakists "East" and Clans "north".)

needing it, and needing it "Right the ****** now" means just that to me.  It means pressing into service older dropships, and it means the ones you do manage to build, are going to be cheap, one-way rides that can be slapped together with low-tech (relative to the setting) facilities on "B" and lower worlds.

Further, since I postulated a "Shipyard" at Vin-Drin-Lap on Kowloon, I wanted their first "Dropship" to be kind of primitive and ad-hoc, instead of the finely engineered, well-made, well-designed, and versatile designs you would find in a Lyran Alliance that wasn't having its ass well-and-truly kicked.

I gave it a few "tricks" (the palletized loading sysem, the PARO mechanism for rapid offload, the blow-out panels so that it can be used as a firebase after landing), but I was shooting for a "Normandy" feel-desperately offloading under fire from a position you can't escape.

There's also the base psychological tactic involved here-the troops will defend as hard as they can, becuase they can't just up-stakes and run if things get too hot, and the method also tells civilians that may be observing (probably from hiding, if they're at all clever) that the force that has come is not going to break and run away.
(The great, big, twenty-five meter Lyran Fist painted on it helps there, too...)

One thing, while the Elsie regulars might attempt to bug out, would Clan Ego let the Falcons and Wolves pull up stakes when Militia conventional troops have effectively declared 'With our shields or on them!'.

Yes, they would. Grudingly, true, but they're not stupid.
They might, however, decide never to invade Kowloon - you cannot win from a whole planet.
The fact that they're fighting together, doesn't mean they aren't planning ahead...

I think Nikas is correct:
I found this in the Kowloon Overview thread:

"...can not really understand their 'soldiers', what a waste! They are unusually competent, determined, courageous, but they all seemed to only want to go home-to finish the war, and return to a civilian status.  I think this made them all the more ruthless in combat-the belief that by crushing the foe, by eliminating the threat, their homes and such will be safe-at least, for a time.  Their methods are an outgrowth of this belief that surrender leads to abuse, misuse, and a coward's death.  I saw this in action later that year- they fought on while other units, even elite units, surrendered around us.  It would have been humiliating to accept defeat while in the company of such men...so we won, when we were obviously outmatched and defeated, we won anyway.  Our victory cost a lot, but, our 'side' survived and the enemy did not.  That battle, they sacrificed ten unarmoured men to kill one Blakist Battlesuit, and suffered five-to-one casualties on average, but they did not stop fighting until the Blakists were driven away in defeat.  The epithets they threw at Warriors who accepted their defeat were gross and blatantly disgusting..."
-Star Captain Niles (Of the Kerenskys), Wolf In Exile, discussing joint operations with the 11th Ersatzkampfgruppen regiment in the Arc-Royal theatre, 3079 A.D.

(emphasis added)

[Trace Coburn]

[[Posted 24-12-2006, 12:32:28]]


Kowloon, Eighteen months ago...

The field was green, carefully manicured grass.  It was also white, row upon row of white headstones.  Denh Pham hopped off of his uncle's truck, and lifted the push mower off the back.
"Remember, Denh, this isn't the Muir's yard,  the dead like things peaceful."  his uncle said it from a wheelchair.

"I understand, Uncle.  I will be careful with the homes of your friends."  Denh said.

"Be certain that you do-and don't go cutting up someone's grave-gifts, either.  It's bad luck..." Uncle said, and carefully wheeled around to the side of the truck. against the chrome trim of the bumpers, his wheels made a faint flashing in the overcast.

"You heard back from the School yet?" Uncle asked.

"Not yet.  My scores were high, though, I saw the results posted on the bulletin board."  Denh said, "ninety-eighth percentile."

"Good...good.  I would not want to have to visit my best Nephew in a place like this every sunday."  Uncle said, "Your mother, she worries, she thought she found an enlistment pamphlet in your jacket  the other night."

"Mother worries too much, we had a man from the Militia office come by the school and talk, the pamphlets were handed out."  Denh said it evasively.

"were his medals shiny, Denh? did he look glamourous?"  Uncle asked.

"He was short, he had one arm, and wore thick glasses, I think he was also going bald...and he talked like a banker."  Denh said.

"Oh...good, then...remember, be careful around the graves.  They earned their rest, and your respect."

Denh finished oiling the push-mower's blades, checking them for sharpness, and lifted it to the grassy verge.

"So, when do you ship out for basic, Denh.  Remember that not all of my friends are here."  Uncle asked.

Denh stopped what he was doing, and turned, "Please don't tell mom,  I leave at the end of the semester."  He said.

"You lost two brothers out there, I think one of them is buried in Ben Hoa, the other was not recovered, except for some ashy bits and his tags.  When you go, there will only be your sisters...and me.  Are you certain you thought this through?"  Uncle asked.

"I did..." he sighed.

"Not carefully enough, but that is alright, we will keep it our secret until you are ready to tell her.  You know you probably won't even see the men that ordered the attack."  Uncle said.

"I know, but I can try.  So many dead..." Denh said.

Uncle shrugged, "That, my nephew, is what War does.  It kills people, even innocent people, even people who would never hurt anyone.  Will you be abandoning your Father's faith, too?"

Denh shook his head, "I am enlisting as a Corpsman, Uncle, I passed the clearance exam for Coast Guard duty, and the exams for Medical field.  I will not be shooting anyone."

"Good.  Keep them alive, then, as many as you can save... and in the meantime-" Uncle engaged the power-take-off, "I think, I will cut the grass today.  Go see your girlfriend in the village.  I have old friends to visit."

[Trace Coburn]

[[Posted 24-12-2006, 12:43:02]]
 

Thames Riverbank, eastern shore, today...

"OHGODOGOGOGODOGODOGODGOD where is my arm, I gotta find it, where is it?"  Lt. Cleef was staggering around on the riverbank.  Denh Pham rushed out of the medic-track, and tackled the officer.

"Hold Still, sir, you are in shock..." his hand shot into his corpsman's bag, and pulled out a length of precut surgical tubing and a claret of Morphinol.

The Claret went first, and the officer stopped trying to struggle.  The tubing next, and then a pak of blood-substitute into the stump. 

Someone else was shrieking.  Denh propped the pak up, sealed the ragged edge of the hole with a spray-sealant, and moved to the next casualty from the platoon.

Ground erupted nearby as shells hit, he focused on the screaming,  "I'm coming!"

Something buzzed past his ear, and a hot wind licked at his arms.

he dove down into a shell-hole, and found a corporal curled up aroudn a nasty belly wound.

There was another soldier in the hole, cowering against hte side, shaking and staring with a frightened look.

"Come here, Private."  Denh ordered.  the private stared at him like he was some kind of alien.  Denh pulled his sleeve down, and pointed at the red cadaceus.  "COME HERE, I need your help."

Denh shook his head, "I am enlisting as a Corpsman, Uncle, I passed the clearance exam for Coast Guard duty, and the exams for Medical field.  I will not be shooting anyone."

Uh huh.  I'm sure a lot of the medics & corpsmen in WWII thought the same thing...

Fun fact: in both World Wars, conscientous objectors served alongside other troops-as Medics and Corpsmen.

Quite true.  A lot ended up having to shoot people too, though, didn't they?

[G'Kar]Oh yes.  I never denied that.[/G'Kar]

Well, you know, once the shooting starts it stops being a moral issue and starts being a life and death one.

Particularly when the other side decides that big red cross makes an excellent aiming point.

[Trace Coburn]

[[Posted 24-12-2006, 21:00:37]]

 
A little way up the beach...

Sgt. Norman watched the Ambulance-track disintegrate under a fusillade from the enemy.  The shockwave from all that fire coming down slammed him back-first into the hatch-coaming of his own tank.

"Punch it, Robbie, we gotta get some covering fire for those poor bastards on the beach.  Jian, load Precision for now, we gotta make those shots count."  he intoned, keeping his voice level so that the throat-mic could pick it up over the vibration in his bones.

"Sarn't, you maybe wanna button up?"  Jian's voice was tinny on the headphones.

"Miss this view?  well shit..." Norman tapped the seat-control, and hte commander's seat dropped down, the hatch closing behind.  Compared to the sounds outside, the interior of the tank was almost silent as it rolled across the bridge from Landing Ship 95 to river's shore. 

"Target, fifteen degrees, coldspot, probably ECM."  Jian, the Loader, announced.

"Nail it." Sgt. Norman said.

"Shot away." Han, the gunner, announced in her squeakiest voice.

The main gun thrummed for a moment, burning through five 125mm cartridges in less than a tenth of a second.

Norman looked through the periscope.  "Secondaries, good shot. Bring the main gun left nine degrees, elevate five, Han, you got a lock yet?"

"Buccaneer, looks like more cold-spots around his feet..." Han replied.

"Sweep the cold-spots, I'm relaying the target info to Second track, Hei can handle the 'mech."

The main-gun thrummed again, accompanied by a raking shot from the small LRM pack mounted coaxially.  A couple of the 'cold spots" flashed red, crumpling like kicked cans and revealing themselves as Purifier class battlesuits.

"****** me.  I think they're serious.  I'm relaying their approximate to the Fire-Support platoon."  Norman matched deed to word.  Behind them, still on the bridge, the muzzles of Bravo's artillery snapped upward, shifted their angle, and as one, thumped.
A moment later, the ridgeline exploded ahead of the tanks, and more "tin-cans'' tumbled into view.

Norman grabbed the small-laser's control, and raked ahead as the platoon of tanks advanced at forty-five KPH up the rise.  Two-track and Four-track emulated his action, sweeping coherent light in slicing lances to the immediate forward left and right of the tanks.

Another artillery strike landed, pinging off the forward glacis plate.  the head of a Blakist suit bounced in front of the periscope, tumbling to the left with no body attatched.

"Target, right forward, one-fifty meters."  Jian announced.

"Target locked, shot away."  Han replied.

Thrummm

Something clanged on the hull, it didn't sound like fragments.
The radios hissed, and norman grabbed the carbine off the turret-rack. 
"We're being boarded." He said.

This acted like a trigger for Corporal Graves, the driver.  The tank weaved crazily and accellerated to better than 60 KPH.  the clanging rose to the turret sides.

"******'s going to pry the hatch." Norman muttered, and slid the cocking handle back, releasing a round into the carbine's chamber, as he footied the seat back as far as it would tilt.

the outside noise got a LOT louderm and grayish daylight streamed in...

Hopefully, the Carbines the Vehicle crews are equipped with use the same high-powered, Armour-Piercing ammunition as the Battle-rifles of the normal infantry (Unlike in World war 2, where the M1 Carbine used weaker ammunition than the M1 Garand).

However, since Purifiers have lesser armour than Elemental suits, penetrating them should be easier... (unless the Armour has been "modified" to resist penetration)

[Trace Coburn]

[[Posted 25-12-2006, 06:04:40]]

 
Eighteen Months ago, Kowloon...

"...someone's coming, will you hurry up?" Mara demanded.  Robert Hung grunted from under the dashboard of the Gieneh Streak. 

"What was that?" she hissed.

"I said, the ****** anti-theft circuit's different.  Gimme a min-" A pair of hands descended-big ones, NOT Maras

She squealed from his left as he was dragged out the right-hand side door. "Jesus!"

"Hello, Robbie, you stupid little shit."  Robert recognized the voice, and the face, instantly. 

"Constable Chien!  You've slimmed down..." Robert said, feeling his knees go jelly.

"Can it, this is what, the third time?"  the Constable demanded, "You have well and truly ****** yourself, Robbie, you turned eighteen last week-that means this time, you get charged as an adult..."

"Boss, the girl's high."  Robbie recognized Deputy Constable Finley, as well. 

"Let me GO!!" Mara shouted, and struggled in the cuffs.

"I.D. says she's still a minor... Robbie, that's Two Felonies.  We are going to jail, now, I have a cell all set out for you, you'll wait for your ****** hearing, and you won't try to escape, understand, dickhead?"  Chien said.

"Understood, sir."  Robert knew he was caught.

"Good."

Two weeks after the arrest...

The Judge was on-loan from the Coast Guard.  Robert's neck itched- are they gonna hang me?  it was a distinct possibility.  Grand Theft and contributing to the corruption of a minor are serious...

"All rise."  He stood up, his suit-coat itched, and he felt his mother's eyes on his back.  God, why did they tell her?  he felt another wave of shame.

"After reviewing your case, Robert, I have to say, I'm very disappointed.  A young man with as much potential as you have, and as many serious responsibilities as you have, getting involved in criminal activities is always a very great disappointment."  The Judge said, "There is no question in my mind that your ass is guilty, but several witnesses have come forward asking this court for leniency." He nodded to Constable Chien, who nodded back.  "Given the state of emergency, and the scores you were posting before you dropped out of school, I've decided to use my discretionary powers.  Which means that You're not going to the Province Penitentiary for this.  Instead..."

The Judge stepped off the bench, and walked up to him,  "...instead, you're going to raise your right hand, and repeat after me, then, you're going to sign this Enlistment Agreement for an eight-year term in the Ground Forces.  If you get in trouble there, you'll probably be shot.  Understand, dumbass?"

"I..understand, Sir."  Robert replied.

"Good.  Raise your right hand..."

[Trace Coburn]

[[Posted 25-12-2006, 06:44:07]]

 
Today...

" địa ngục trần gian..."  Flight-Warrant Hoa Minh muttered, (Hell on Earth) as he brought his VTOL around the hillside, lining up the Alacorn that was pounding the ridge.  "Gotcha."  his front-seater, Nina Goldstein announced, and the light autocannon burped, followed by four smoke-trails. the turret on the tank swivelled in their direction and Hoa hard-banked right, goosing the chopper up to 110 KPH airspeed.

from below, a rotor-shredding barrage of SAM fire whickered by.  "We are well and truly corncobbed if we get popped, you know that, right Nina?" He observed.

the Chopper shuddered as Nina popped off four more missiles.  "Yeah... Say, where's our Clan buddies?" she asked casually.

"Busy, I think-something about a hell of a lot of Blakies northeast...hello-eyes front, gunner, I think they brought a ****** Yellowjacket."

Nina spotted it, and the Warrior shook from a near-miss.

"We wanna kill it?" she asked.

"Does the Brassfish wanna spawn?"  He answered, "Elevator ride, time to roller-coaster."

[Trace Coburn]

[[Posted 25-12-2006, 07:52:55]]

 
2Km east of the Thames bank...

Nathan Roshak saw the Tank come barrelling out between two hills, there were three shapes that his sensors identified based on radar-returns as being Battlesuits, they were tearing at the vehicle as it bounded and rocked in crazy manuevers, trying to shake them off.

"I think we found the front."  he observed tartly.  "Fascinating."

The turret slewed left as the tank slewed right, skidding nearly to a roll, and kicking up a fountain of dust.  One of the suits kept going with inertia, dragging what looked, to the Jade Falcon commander, very much like the commander's hatch.

A point of Elementals leapt off of a hellbringer, and swarmed the unfortunate (and now, quite visible thanks to the dirt) enemy suits.  Close combat against other Battlesuits being something of a treat for Clan infantry-a rare event that always seemed, in his experience, to put the survivors in a cheerful mood.

One of the crew popped out the ragged hole where the hatch had been, with a shortened rifle, and began spraying what Nathans' sensors insisted was a simple rock formation.  The turret was also turning.

The rock formation returned fire, and Nathan tapped his controls to visual-light only.

"Ah... ambush."  He smirked, and stepped forward.  His sensors were useless, but the cameras could definitely make out the shapes of two camouflaged 'mechs and the shifting patterns of enemy suit infantry.

"Bravo Star, I count at least six enemies, and only one of our allies' tanks, which is damaged."  Nathan announced, "We will...help our deluded allies."

Laughter echoed across the comms, and the Falcon 'mechs advanced at a run, laying into the "Rock formation" with heavy fire.

The "rock formation" disintegrated, revealing three Battlemechs, a tank...two tanks, and two squads of camouflage-equipped battlesuits.

The Patton tank that had revealed them, erupted in a flash of detonating ammunition, the turret spun skyward looking nothing so much as a frying pan thrown by a firework.

Nathan laid a Gauss-round into the bulky shape of a Legacy.  "Well, I guess they will not be thanking us personally for our assistance."  someone on the channel commented.

"Bloody stravag fools, bringing a piece of junk vehicle to a battle suitable for 'mechs..."  Roshak recognized Ann Hazen's voice.

"They do what they can.  We just do it better."  Nathan retorted, and added LRM and ER Laser fire as he closed.  The enemy Assault 'mech returned shot-for-shot, but missed most of them.

"They do what they can.  We just do it better."

Heh, spoken like a true Clanner.

[Trace Coburn]

[[Posted 25-12-2006, 09:34:22]]

 
Eighteen Months Ago,  Vin Drin Lap, Kowloon...

Than Nguyen rubbed his eyes, and yawned.  The clock said "0430".  Damn, wish I could call in a sick day...  he stood up, walked softly to the kitchen, and made coffee.   In the bedroom, Charlene was still sleeping-or he hoped she was.  Probably should knock off now, but those papers won't grade themselves...

he poured the hot water through a filter, and looked at the kitchen table.

Mail.  Great.  What's overdue this month?  He knew something would be- the salary of a Public School teacher was good, at least, in some districts.  Teaching in a "Slummer" district didn't pay so well, and Charlene's mother had a nasty habit of spending as if he were an executive.  His retirement from the Militia ten years ago didn't help much on the bills...

well, I guess I better see who...

There was a letter from a credit-chit company, offering him another 'fantastic rate-if you qualify'.
He tossed that one in the fireplace, glad that Charlene's mother hadn't found it.

the last envelope was printed with the seal of the Planetary Government, it looked official, and had a small glassine window.  A check?  He opened it, unfolded it...

Greetings from the office of the Duchess;

Per your Comissioning Agreement dated 3 August, 3062,  You are being recalled to Active Duty and are to report to the local LAAF board on the 4th of this month For evaluation.  Please have your Dependents Paperwork ready for processing when you arrive.  Recall is at the last pay grade held....

He re-read it, looking for any mistakes.  There were none.

" Cầu Chúa phù hộ chúng ta!" He sat down, hard.

"Honey? Vas Ist?" Charlene asked.

"Go back to bed... I think i will be coming to bed as well."  He said numbly.

"Bad news, then."  she said, "It isn't the Michaelson kid again, is it?"

"no... Terry will have to take my classes for a while... I've been recalled."  He said.

"What?? But-but you Retired ten Years ago!  They Can't..." she was flabberghasted.

He handed her the draft-notice, "They can.  Don't worry, this is probably some kind of mistake..."

"You're...you are a Science Teacher! isn't that Draft-Exempt enough?" she was getting angry, and he couldn't think of a way to settle her down.

"Honey, it would be, if I had always been a Teacher, relax, it's probably a rear-area job, maybe in charge of a Training camp or something, I'm sure they don't want a fifty-year-old Leutenant Colonel when there are guys in their thirties whose service is current."  He said reassuringly.

She glared at him, "SCHEISS!  You know Verdammt well that if the Schwein are calling, you'll go..."

"Let's go to bed."  he said, and reached out, touching her hair.  "I will go to the board offices, they'll give me a physical, realize I'm too old, and I'll be back at the school, teaching."  he smiled, "Everything will be fine."

[Trace Coburn]

[[Posted 25-12-2006, 10:00:07]]

 
Today...

Pfc Tom Michaelson huddled in a shell-crater while Corporal Hung lay curled and screaming.  Out of nowhere, a Corpsman dropped into the hole with them. 

"Come here, Private."  the guy said... and Tom was frozen, scared to move.  "I said..." the stranger  snarled it, unrolling a sleeve to show the Cadaceus patch of a Coast Guard Corpsman, "Come here! I need your help..."

Tom crawled over.  "Hold this, press down-there you go.  Stay like that, I'm trying to stabilize him."

the Corpsman set to work on Corporal Hung.  "Where you from, Private?"  he asked.

"Liesen Street, Vin Drin Lap."  Tom replied.

"Huh... that's a Kraut neighbourhood, right?"  the Corpsman asked.

"yeah.  My family's Scots, though, second generation from Donegal..."  Michaelson replied, and flinched as something peppered the hole with tiny fragments.

"Cool... you're doing fine, you're from VDL, you know anybody in your unit before the war?"  the Corpsman asked.

"Um...no, well...I was in Mister-I mean, Colonel Nguyen's Grade Eleven Chem class..." Tom replied.

the Corpsman looked up.  "That is cool. Listen, you can let go of the dressing now.  This is real important-they got the Track while I was running over here, so we're going to have to hump Corporal..?"

"Corporal Hung, he's my fireteam leader."  Tom said, he was feeling calmer now.  the noise wasn't as scary.

"We're going to have to man-pack him to the aid station.  That means we're going to have to leave this hole, and find it.  Can you do that, or do I need to do it myself?"  The Corpsman asked.

"I-I think I'll go crazy if I'm alone-the shell got everyone else..." Tom answered.

"Okay, that'll do, then.  I'll carry, you keep an eye out, deal?" the Corpsman said.

"Deal.."

[Trace Coburn]

[[Posted 25-12-2006, 13:40:37]]

 
Eighteen Months ago...

"Leave Him Alone!!"  Jimmy Qua stood between four Rugby players and the huddled shape of Anthony.  "He didn't do anything to you."

"Geez, he's just a tard, what's he to you, runt?"  George "Big Philly" baker was a goalkeeper, fast and big, and known to be a "hard lad" in the english-only areas of Nha Tranh.

"What's it matter, you want a ****** history lesson?"  Jimmy snapped back, "Back off or I'll make you sorry you didn't."

"We'll see, who's sorry, there's four of us."  Baker said, with a smirk, "and you're a little g-"

Jimmy brought the toe of his workboot up into Baker's crotch,  the bigger boy doubled over, he brought both his hands down on Baker's neck, pushing with all his might to drive his other knee up into the older boy's ribcage.  It worked, mostly.  The other three were staring with their jaws slack. "I-said-leave-him-alone." Jimmy punctuated by driving his knee up repeatedly.
He let go, and baker went down on the pavement.  Jimmy kicked him again, repeatedly.

One of the others started forward, as if he'd made the decision.  Jimmy pulled  a knife out of his pocket and it opened with a click.  "You want some too? Get Lost."  The one that stepped forward raised his hands.

"We don' want no trouble-man, you're not gonna cut baker, are you?"

Jimmy glared, "Pick him up, and go away.  If I see you near my brother again, I will hunt you down, one at a time, and what I do then you'll need your Jesus to fix, got it?"

he stepped back from Baker, who was groaning, and bleeding from his mouth between wheezing breaths.

The team picked up their leader, and Jimmy watched them go, half-running, half-dragging.

"Tony? you okay?"  He turned around, anthony was crying.

His big brother was still snuffling on the ground, pants down,  superhero lunchbox dented open.

"They...they was gon' hurt me, jimmy."  Anthony sobbed.

"I made 'em go away, Anthony."

"You're gon' be in trubble."  Tony blubbered.

Jimmy shrugged, "Okay. come on, pull up your pants, pick up your box, let's go back to your school now." 

"I's your bigger brudder, an' you gotta save me, I feel bad, Jimmy..."  Anthony said, "I know I can' think right no more..."

"It's okay, Tony, you're all I got. I gotta take care of you now... you got everything?"  Jimmy replied.

"Uh-huh."  Anthony said.

"Good, come on..." they headed up the street.


Twenty-four  hours later, Nha Tranh Halfway House and School for the mentally disabled...

"...next of kin, we think he got confused, though how he got to the roof, we aren't certain."  Mrs. Lian said,  "At any rate, will your mother be able to come down later?"

Jimmy Qua shook his head, "No, ma'am. She's... she is busy, too busy."

"I did some checking with social services' files, James.  Your mother may be busy, and may not be.  someone has been forging her signatures.  wouldn't be you, would it?"

Jimmy shook his head, "No, ma'am."

"I've called around, your mother's boss says she has not been to work in nearly two years-she was terminated.  care to explain that?" Mrs. Lian asked.

Jimmy had prepared for this one-"Mom went to work somewhere else, she hasn't..she hasn't updated her contact numbers.  She's away from town right now.  she'll be crushed when she finds out about Anthony."

Mrs. Lian smiled, "Of course... that must be it.  out of town... well, like I said, we don't think he meant to walk off the roof, we think he may have been confused, brain-damage like his often...(blah-blah-blahblah-blah)"  Jimmy wasn't paying attention.

******, what am I going to do?
The thought repeated over and over agian as he walked out of the halfway house, and down the street.

there was a poster...

I've been taking care of responsibilities, I've been on my own for two years... I can do this.  Yeah, and maybe they won't check with the hall if I say i was born in Da Nang...

Jimmy Qua was fifteen, and an orphan...

[Trace Coburn]

[[Posted 25-12-2006, 13:50:48]]

 
Today...

Private Qua crawled up to the side of a smashed IFV, and peered around the side.  One, two, three...eight.  eight out of twelve is two thirds.  Light body armour, I can do this.

the enemy squad was consolidating and re-loading their missile launchers.
Jimmy could see his comrades-his squaddies, groaning or dead around him.  he could hear them, too.

Nobody's gonna cry about Jimmy Qua.  but they'll miss these guys.  He let the jealousy flood him like a drug.  He could hate

The squad's Machinegun was heavy, but he could lift it now-ten months in infantry school made him strong. 

Jimmy carefully slid it on its tripod until the muzzle was just clear of the broken track's roadwheel. He sighted and drew the cocking handle back as slow as he could, to buffer the sound.

****** them. Bastards killed my buddies, made my brother an idiot... he depressed the triggers with his thumb, and held on as the gun roared to life...

[Trace Coburn]

[[Posted 25-12-2006, 15:09:40]]

 
1.3 KM away...

rounding the hill in victory, the Falcon Jaegers found themselves overlooking a valley of agonies.  The Thames was muddy-red-brown, and fire wreathed areas hundereds of meters across.  the Falcon lead elements had to pause for a moment-in order to separate enemy from friendly forces before them.  Nathan Roshak tried his communications suite agian, and the joint-operations frequencies were still howling with jamming.

"I see we found the rest of the battle."  April, the Hellbringer pilot, commented over the Cluster frequency.

"Aff.  But...did we find it in time?"  Nathan observed.  Several of the "Landing ships" had apparently made ground-and were now merrily burning torches marking the shallow areas of the river.

Tracers cris-crossed and there was a churning mass, obscured by dust-clouds from impacting artillery and smoke from explosions.

"the Falcon Jaegers will advance to...there-the third ship up, someone seems to be alive and fighting."  Nathan said after a moment's thought, "Clear enemy forces as you go, Warriors, each Star Captain will choose his own line of advance, normal rules of engagement are suspended, this enemy is very Dezgra."

Such an awesome x-mas present. I love your Clanners' collective sense of humor.

Beautiful...  Raises the hair on the back of my neck when I read it, this is good stuff.

Agreed, simply masterfull.

[Trace Coburn]

[[Posted 26-12-2006, 23:19:23]]

 
45th Brigade LZ...

Jimmy Qua rolled back behind the wreckage as enemy frag-missiles burst nearby.  Four of the seven had gone down from his surprise, but their buddies were reacting badly.

I'm screwed...oh ******.  He pulled a rifle-grenade from the shoulder-bag of a dead man, slid it over his rifle's muzzle, and locked it down.  Just like in training, it's just paint rounds, just like in training... he huffed and hufffed, then he braced the butt of his rifle in the sand, and chambered a blank.  Just like in training... He'd seen a couple of the guys he'd hit-at that range, it was impossible to miss seeing...shitodearOdinhearmypleayouoathbreakingsonofabitchthisbetterwork... their faces scared the hell out of him-they were all the same, and all of them looked wrong.

He cuddled up to his rifle, and crawled between roadwheels, as the first one came bounding Over the wrecked Track.

People don't have wires hanging out of them.  He shoved the rifle to his shoulder and pulled the trigger-using the rifle's sights at close range instead of the grenadier sight.

Pop-WHAM!!! the shaped-charge was eighty milimeters in diameter and seventy deep inside the double-conical rifle grenade, and the fuse was a contact-fuse.  It was designed to pierce the sides or rear of a main-battle-tank.

The "Super Trooper" took the round near the centre of his back-it blew off the body-armour and tore a hole the size of Jimmy's fist through the body.  There was blood, and some sickly white fluid mixing from the hole.

The guy turned around, raised his weapon-Jimmy could see it was a squad-automatic size machinegun, and fell over.

Jimmy grabbed another grenade, and hoped the other two would be just as stupid.  He fervently hoped they would...

Of course not.  he heard one come running from the right, and one from his left, they would clear teh track in no time.

Just like training...only these guys are a hell of a lot faster, and tougher, than human beings should be.  He slid a blank in, fixed grenade, and wriggled in deeper under the busted track's chassis.  dear lord may my enemy be foolish...make them stupid, Odin, set Loki upon them.  Coyote, are you there? I'll steal whatever you want me to, just help me get out of this jam...

The one on the right sounded closer, they weren't talking, but he guessed that they had to be communicating somehow.

He centered his rifle on the one to the left as it cleared the partial dune, walking calmly and scanning the area.

The trigger jammed.
******...Buddha, my Karma is WAAAYYYY out of balance. I don't want to go to hell...  He couldn't try to clear the jam, either-the thing was too close.

He could feel the prickly on his neck-the one that said he was being seen

Come on...I didn't mean it god, You know you're first...

The ground vibrated, and suddenly, the two inhuman bastards weren't interested in Private Jimmy Qua anymore.

They were interested in the Battlemech that had just appeared, and was now trying to catch them with its weapons.

Jimmy crawled out of his hidey-hole.  They weren't running.  No... they were attacking it.

He reached up, stroked the cocking handle on his rifle, and took a marksman's kneel.

Grenade sights, who needs 'em?

One of the inhuman things jumped-like some kind of super-powered creature, no exhausts, he just Hopped like a long-jumper onto the gently mottled green surface of a Jade-Falcon Cougar Battlemech.

 The other one was unslinging a weapon, and running to do the same thing.

****** this, they're not human, and the Falcons just saved my ass.  Jimmy centered his shot on the first one-which was already ape-swinging to the cockpit.

POP-BANG!!!!  The shot was Lucky, the climber's head kind of...evaporated.

Jimmy was already fitting the second grenade when number two turned for a look.
Jimmy slid the blank into the chamber, careful not to rack sand in this time, as the half-robot monster made its decision, and brought up a weapon that looked like the tunnel to hell.

Pop-BANG!!! the shot took one arm-unfortunately, not the one that was holding the gun-from-hell, completely off almost to the middle of the guy's chest.

The guy returned fire and jimmy felt agony rip through his legs.  as he fell, he realized that there were hundereds of tiny holes in his pants, and blood was now gushing.  The guy had used a heavy needler.

 Jimmy pulled his rifle to him, and rolled, as the half-guy was turning back on the 'mech.

Jimmy judged the range was fifty meters, he pulled his rifle in, and slid the selector from "Single" past "Burst" to "Full".

His trigger-control in basic was considered good.  two minutes, it takes two minutes to bleed to death, and one minute to die of shock. Clip empties at cyclic in about four seconds... race against time...

Ugly-half-a-man was sparking in places, and almost as red everywhere else, as Jimmy was.

The sewing-machine rattle of the Mark 150 at full was only interrupted by Jimmy's trigger finger-letting off before the muzzle could wander off the target as it moved.

His target jerked and sputtered, but a round found its way into the space between vertebrae, severing the neck and tearing the throat out the other side.

Okay, now I'm out...  He lay back, and looked at the gray, gray, sky. Okay, so...is it Heaven, or Nirvana, or Hell?

A blonde face, hair bound in a strange style appeared over him, her tunic was green as jade.

Valhalla, then...I hope the weather's good there.



Allison watched helplessly, The lone Lyran soldier took on two of what the briefings had called "Manei Domini" elites.  Enemy forces had included among their bag of tricks severe invasive surgery and cybernetics.
One of them loomed over her canopy-too close to use her weapons.  His head exploded, and she saw sparks from his neck- Monstrous!

The calls over the net suddenly filled her cockpit-someone had knocked out the jamming, and her tac-plot showed the enemy was starting to rout.

She brought the targeting carat onto the back of what appeared to be the last one-torn almost in half by some form of VLAW, but still combat-capable through some horrific engineering perversion of science.

The soldier on the ground fired his rifle-without the VLAW weapon, and confirmed to Allison that the stories of armour-piercing bullets were true.

the thing shuddered and danced for a moment, then fell.

Her sensors informed her that the soldier on the ground was bleeding out-fast.

One-on-two, and he'd saved her life, probably without knowing more than she was a member of an allied unit.

Allison did what she felt was right.  She climbed down, and went to see to him-either to give a final mercy, or to salvage what could be salvaged.

The wounds were needler-wounds, and his thighs looked like a mix of cloth and hamburger.

she bound his legs above the wounds, choking off the damaged arteries, and spray-sealing from her own medikit.
Then, she hefted his body-and realized he was small.  light... his unconscious face was that of a child-no hint of facial hair.
you get to live..boy. 
The Cougar had a small area behind the control-couch, usually for use as a space to recline during long field operations.  she crammed him in there, and hooked up an IV of universal-blood-substitute, oxygenated.

"System, locate and identify Lyran hospital units that are active within five kilometers." she ordered.

A map appeared on the windscreen, with a carat indicating the nearest one reporting active.



Three Kilometers later, she found the hospital unit-and the rest of her Starmates.  they were celebrating.  She carried her charge to the triage-man.  "Fix him.  This one is a Warrior today."

The Corpsman running Triage had a nametag, "Denh".

"Yes Ma'am...in his turn."  The man said.

"No...NOW." she said.

"We've got five hundered wounded, including a whole lot of kids that are probably going to live life as amputees, Ma'am.  He's not bleeding out anymore, and you got him stabilized, but he's going to have to wait, Ma'am.  We have seven surgeons in OR right now, we need forty, but we don't have them...Ma'am, so Private Qua is going to have to wait his bloody turn, warrior today or not, Ma'am"

Allison felt a surge of anger, but that anger showed her something else-the corpsman's shirt was hiding a bandage that was soaked-through, and beginning to leak.

"Private Qua will wait." she said agreeably.  Our medtechs are safely protected...these are not.  "Did you bandage yourself, healer?"

"Nobody to do it for me at this point, ma'am...why?" Denh asked.

"You, are leaking through."  she said, "I think your own condition must be impacting your judgement, arguing with a Warrior is...unsafe."  she walked back to where her Comrades were gathered.  "Where is Star Commander Peter?" she asked.

The mood went dark with a flick of a switch.  "He died." Amy said.

"Why are you not on the perimeter, then? These are our allies, and yet their hospital has been the site of combat-we must not allow that to re-occur, quiaff?"

"Where were you?" Amy asked.

"I was fighting Blakist scum.  Mopping up an area where they had ambushed a column of lyrans.  That child-soldier I brought in, was the only Lyran survivor.  He took out two Manei Domini unassisted, but suffered greivous wounds.  do you have any more questions?"

"who put you in charge?"  Amy pointedly asked.

"I did, you want to challenge it?" Allison asked.

Amy backed down. "Neg, not at this time, Star Commander Allison."

"Right, Get back to work-we must make this rear-area secure for our own use."

I'm surprised you bothered with blank-firing rifle grenades.

Either an underslung launcher or the new shoot-through grenades would significantly reduce the time needed to bring that firepower to bear.  (chambering blanks in the middle of combat? eugh)

I am not an expert in Rifle Grenades, but I think it is safe to assume:

1) Stocks of the "Propel using a normal bullet" type had run out, lack of time to replenish and the infantry have to be issued with the "uses blanks to propel" variety.

or

2) The "Blank-propelled" variety are much cheaper and easier to mass prodce than the "live-propelled" type, and Kowloon's military accepts and understands the risks invovled.


Underbarrel Grenade Launchers have their flaws:

1) Smaller Warhead payload compared to Rifle mounted grenades. (I do not think small 40 MM greandes can have that kind of punch against the sides/rear of main Battle Tanks...)

2) Increasing the bulk and weight of the rifle it is mounted onto.

3) Requires maintaining an inventory for the Grenade Launcher, and specialised Armament Technicians, training for them, etc. etc,



Although in mitigation, the underbarrel grenade launcher does not obstruct the use of the normal rifle in an emergency.

To me, not blocking the rifle is slightly moot, since I assume someone concentrating on using the Underbarrel Grenade Launcher's sights / launch trajectory will not be able to bring the rifle to bear on an ambusher / sudden enemy on time to make a difference....

(Feel free to criticise, I am not weapon-trained in my country's military.)

EDIT: Speaking of Cybernetically-enhanced people / cyborgs and grenades, where are the EMP Grenades when you need them?

EDIT: Wait... I think EMP Grenades will not do... If they are cybernetically enhanced to fight in areas where nuclear weapons are likely to be used, they may be so hardened against EMP that it will be inefficient to damage them via EMP.

I'm surprised you bothered with blank-firing rifle grenades.

Either an underslung launcher or the new shoot-through grenades would significantly reduce the time needed to bring that firepower to bear.  (chambering blanks in the middle of combat? eugh)

the shaped-charge was eighty milimeters in diameter and seventy deep inside the double-conical rifle grenade

That's over three inches diameter for you Imperial yanks - not counting the casing, so let's call it four inches. Now the charge is 3" (70mm) behind the front end; it's described as a "double cone", so assume a total length on the order of 6". I don't recall seeing any under-barrel launchers with a diameter of 4", and I'd hazard a guess that that might just be a little too big for easy handling - like having a big soft-drink bottle strapped under the barrel. Which could be why they don't do it.

The Kowloonese appear to have drawn on history again. This is an up-market Panzerfaust, isn't it? And for the same reason - smaller charges just won't cut the mustard (or the Blakeist).

That's over three inches diameter for you Imperial yanks - not counting the casing, so let's call it four inches. Now the charge is 3" (70mm) behind the front end; it's described as a "double cone", so assume a total length on the order of 6". I don't recall seeing any under-barrel launchers with a diameter of 4", and I'd hazard a guess that that might just be a little too big for easy handling - like having a big soft-drink bottle strapped under the barrel. Which could be why they don't do it.

The Kowloonese appear to have drawn on history again. This is an up-market Panzerfaust, isn't it? And for the same reason - smaller charges just won't cut the mustard (or the Blakeist).

[out of story]
yeah, History guides a LOT of what they use and do.  Part of that one, is that (being a gun-nut beyond belief), I actually worked out relative round size, velocity, and from that, Power for a whole nest of CBT weapons, and got some interesting results- using the data, most of them seem to be following the post 1944 studies that claimed that decisive rifle battles were resolved at less than 400 yards. (note: those studies were done at a time when rifles were designed to shoot over 1000 yards, and body-armour was a pipe-dream.)  While this was certainly true in Vietnam, to an extent, it has been repeatedly disproven in more recent fighting in places that are NOT overgrown Jungle.
Still, current trends toward mid-low power cartridges seem to mirror very well the "Flesh" results of CBT:RPG rifle-class weapons.  (inexplicably, they're all very heavy considering the rounds are small. most of them should be anywhere from half to quarter the weight to have the same performance against unprotected man.)

For the Kowloonese, I decided someone was a history nut-and wanted live infantrymen to come home from wars, rather than pretty parades of mostly-tax-collectors.  So..

Rifles are designed with ranged firepower in mind- instead of firing what amounts to a .63 caliber musket-ball (the Zeus), they're firing the in-universe equivalent of an 8mm-06 wildcat round.  Since "only accurate rifles are interesting" (PO Ackley), I looked through the existing canon for a weapon that matched up as closely as possible to what I needed, while not being a true "Sniper" rifle.  (the range-bands of the Mauser&Grey 150 hunting rifle fit more closely to a practical battle rifle for my purposes.)

A rifle that fires a really high-velocity bullet of significant size, presents significant problems for the "Gas-Baffle" shoot-through grenade configuration, which config doesn't work particularly well against armour anyway, since it interrupts the "Shape" and disrupts performance too much.  (told you, I'm an unbelievable gun-nut.)  an underslung four-inch grenade system would be unweildy as hell given the M&G's stock design (which I kept for two reasons: 1, it's more compact on the cross-section (Skinnier) than a pistol-gripped assault rifle, two, it's likely better balanced for use), and it would prove unweildy when used in the Prone (Hugging the mud) position when you're only firing the rifle. (more crap hangs down, the more crap you have to accomodate when you're hugging the dirt.)

So...we end up stuck with blanks, and spigot-grenades.  Figuring the cross-section of an eight-kilogramme LRM is probably around four inches (based on the illustration of a Drac trooper with an MRM in his hands doing reload from FM:DC),  I wanted a big enough C-18 warhead to actually hurt something.  since it has to be carried by grunts, this means it doesn't have much range to begin with-so you want as much propellant gas pushing as you can manage.  A hot-loaded blank does this better than shooting through a bafled tube, and teh round is going to cost less than a LAW or VLAW with the same impact... provided you can hit with it, which is more difficult due to range issues.

Since, in a normal engagement, a platoon only has a limited lifespan against tanks and BA, and I don't want to "break" the universe that way, this setup actually makes some sense-you have to spend more time prepping, and you only get one to three shots in ten seconds with it.  (Three if you're VERY good, one is if you're at least a Regular, and the average for greenies would be once every twenty seconds to a minute) these would be ''Ambush" weapons, or the first shot of a meeting-engagement (since you have a limited lifespan, that first shot better count, or you won't get a second.)

Doctrinally, it is, as you noticed, an uprated Panzerfaust.

[/out of story]

"Clear enemy forces as you go, Warriors, each Star Captain will choose his own line of advance, normal rules of engagement are suspended, this enemy is very Dezgra."

To quote the Daleks from the Dr. Who season 2 finale (on fighting the Cybermen), "This. is. not. War!  This. is. Pest. Control!"

[Trace Coburn]

[[Posted 27-12-2006, 10:39:21]]

 
Aid Station...

Denh-Pham watched the Clanner go, then grunted as his ribs rubbed.   The private she'd brought was pretty far-gone. 
He checked the boy's pulse.  it was thready, and the breathing was shallow.
Denh pulled out an injector of "Magic-Beans", an antishock drug with a name almost twenty words long.  he nailed the kid in the carotid artery, then spray-sealed the entry shut.

it would keep the boy alive for a while-if they were both lucky, while he went to work on what was left of Private Qua's legs.

The wounds weren't entirely clean, like a normal needler-these were partially burnt.  Firedrake?  Okay, then... cutting the damage out would leave the boy a cripple-not cutting it out, would lead to infection, and a horrible death.

Cripples get a ticket home on the next available ride.  I'm going to do you a favour.

He started cutting.

[Trace Coburn]

[[Posted 27-12-2006, 11:13:51]]

 
12 October, 3079...

Nathan Roshak looked at the casualty figures from the Lyran units, and compared them to his Falcons.  The results should have made him happier.

Of the 40,000 troops that made it through the blockade and down to the ground, more than 5000 were dead.  Of those, the Jade Falcon units suffered only a hundered.  The Lyran/Kowloonese troops bore the brunt of it-three thousand total casualties at four major landing zones.  this does not include the thirty thousand that died during the entry phase. he reminded himself.

Nathan had the unfortunate privelage of seeing one of the landing ships die during re-entry from the feed.  Eighty-Three had been peeled open by a Blakist fighter-squadron, it had been close enough to his own Overlord-C to see individual men falling unprotected into vacuum on the vid-screen.

Two of the 45th Brigade's dropships had been destroyed-but that was after they had unloaded.  Most of the dead were along the shores of the Thames river, or just a little bit inland.  Once they had "Shaken out", they had performed very well-his rescue of the Headquarters element notwithstanding, the line-units had followed the plan to the letter.

"You can not afford to keep losing men at this rate, Colonel Nguyen."  Nathan said, finally.

"Yeah... I guess this is where we change the plan, right?"  the Colonel was stuck in a wheel-chair, his right leg ending just below the thigh, thanks to a piece of shrapnel from the Blakist artillery.

"Aff." Nathan set the reports down.  "Your soldiers have some talents that we can use, and we have the ability to cover them while they use those talents."

"You're talking about the Stealth-suits they're using, right?"  Nguyen asked.

Nathan nodded, "The unfortunate outcome of relying on scanners, is that our Elementals end up unable to see stealthed Blakist units.  This presents a significant problem when trying to engage them...and I do not have enough Active-Probe units to make up the difference."

Nguyen nodded his understanding.  "You need bloodhounds, trackers that can find 'em for you, then you bring the hammer down...and you need flank-security elements so that your Falcons are free to do what you do best."

Nathan smiled, "Aff.  Exactly.  We smash the enemy, you assure that he does not get...'clever'."

"Works, you want to detail the troops by company or Battalion? we cover your supply line, pull out the wounded, and guard your backs, you deliver the hammers?" Nguyen asked.

"Exactly.  the original assault-plan La Follette provided had our forces covering yours, this simply places things in the correct order-your infantry and mechanized units provide rear-area and flank security and supplemental detection, along with on-call fire from your artillery, this frees up my warriors to concentrate on smashing and chasing the enemy from every hiding place he finds."  Nathan said, adding, "Perfect symmetry."

"I like that plan.  You run this past General Mosovich?" Nguyen asked.

"Aff, I did, she referred me back to you."  Nathan said.

"Done deal then.  Let's go over rosters and make some assignments..."

[out of story]

How would this arrangement work? Well...first off, this places the Jade Falcons as overall force-command in this sector of the invasion, since front-line duty shifts the priorities (they're taking the "Lead" role, relegating Lyran units to supporting caste...),  this also plays well for Jade Falcon tactical doctrines of fast, furious, and crushing assaults-and it frees up more Falcon Warriors to take this leading role.  (i.e. they can even convert Nagas to front-liner status, yank the Arrow-IV systems for LRM or Gauss rifles...) Meanwhile, it allows the Kowloonese troops to fill a role that they're particularly good at-covering someone else's flanks.  This works further because Falcon 'mech units are quicker than the tanks and armoured vees that Kowloon produces, and since the Blakists are Dezgra opponents, the Falcon warriors can use the Kowloonese artillery-fetish to soften up particularly hardened fortifications ahead of their line-of-advance...and, the falcons' advance doesn't have to pause or stop, since they can blitz through, leaving their "allies" to wage sieges as they drive the enemy's main-line units.

I think it would work well. I wonder if the Falcons have any Shamash units they could shake loose to the Kowloons? How is the air war shaping up CS? I would expect to see Naval engagements if the WoBs had them there, and some serious bombardment if they didnt.

[out of story]

I've been kind of avoiding that topic, the Aerospace/Orbital war for Skye is big enough that it really deserves its own, uninterrupted, tale, and I'm starting to narrow things down a bit to a smaller number of characters and plots.

Main Characters here:

(Clan)
Galaxy Commander Nathan Roshak
Star Commander Allison (no, I don't know what bloodhouse.)
Point Two Amy (Pershaw bloodline)
Star Commander Jason Icaza* (to be introduced later)

(Kowloonese)
Corpsman Denh Pham
Private Jimmy Qua
Colonel Nguyen
Corporal Robert Hung


The Aerospace fight is "ongoing" for the moment.  When I do that story (if I can handle it), I'll probably try and grab some "aerospace" types to co-write it, since the action is really very different from the style of an "in-the-mud-with-the-blood" story I'm doing here.

Falcons working with 'loonies? This bears watching, and I'd say the Blakists are in for a kind of pain they can't even imagine.

Kowloonese tactics and, um, perseverance was noted on Mississauga.  I believe a little respect for these boys has been earned. 8)

How would this arrangement work?

Should work pretty well, since you've just described what combined arms is all about... O0

I think i've seen your Landing Ship concept before somewhere, i just can't remember where.
Though its pretty common in SF for Colonizers.

Cool story, even though your german stinks. ;)

[Trace Coburn]

[[Posted 27-12-2006, 22:46:28]]

 
13 October, 3079...

The Jade Falcons brought in extra doctors to the Aid Station at around 0630 hours, and one of them took a look at Denh, and said, "You, bed, now please."  indicating a portable their support crew brought with.

"How long have you been up, Corpsman?"  she asked, as she cut his shirt away from the bandages.

"Um...what time is it?" Denh asked.

"Oh-Seven-Forty-Five."

"Oh, I've been up since Oh-Five...of the eleventh.:.why?" Denh asked.

"Been hitting the Quikstim, Aff?"  she said conversationally, "Your pupils are dialated, and your reflexes are slow."

"oh..."  He replied, "Shows, huh?"

"Yes.  Yes it does, especially on someone who is not used to the side-effects of chemical stimulants.  I would bet you have also forgotten to drink water, or eat...when was the last time you ate?" she asked, cutting the bandage off.  she crinkled her nose, "for that matter, when was the last time this dressing was checked?"

"Uh...yesterday, I think?"  Denh replied.

"Yesterday... well, you've got..." she did a swab, and checked it on a portable instrument, "Yep.  Fungal infection.  the local Anaerobics love wound-tissue, especially when it can't breathe because the dressing is fouled.  This is going to hurt, but then..." she ran a hand-scanner that Denh had never seen before over him.  "Well... it will, when I get that chunk of metal out.  Dumb, Corpsman, really dumb.  I should think a Medtech would have more sense than to try and keep working with a shrapnel wound-especially when the shrapnel is still there, and still cutting.  You used a local, did you not?"

"Yeah... I kind of had to-someone had to keep working the Triage, and we didn't have anyone else..."  he felt woozy.

"Well, dumbass, you are going to get some rest whether you want to or not-because I-know-something-you-do-not..."  the room was getting dimmer.

"Wah..?"  everything seemed very far away, and spinning...


The exhausted Spheroid medtech passed out, and Gladys answered his unasked question.  "Quikstim wears off after twelve hours, and will knock you cold when it does..."  she thwacked him with the side of a scalpel, there wasn't even a hint of reflex-response.
"Which means, I only had to add a tiny bit of morphanol when I did the swab, and I can dig that shrapnel out without worrying about OD'ing you."

She looked up at the Mechwarrior standing in the room entrance.  "I take it, you want him well enough to accompany you, Star Commander?"

Allison stepped forward, "yes.  I think this one will serve well enough-once he is restored to working order.  I checked his performance based on recordings-he will suit well as the first-aid tech for my Star when we head out tomorrow... he carried three men to the Aid station unassisted while under fire, and then manned the Triage post and provided immediate trauma work for eighteen hours-while injured.  I think that beats Your record, Quiaff?"

"Aff, I was braver when I was young, but never such a fool as to try to keep working when my wits were addled." Gladys replied, "He will not be ready tomorrow-at least, not by himself."

"Volunteering? Not like you."  Allison noted.

"If a Spheroid can do it, I suppose that, for the sake of my own dignity, I had better be able to do it...besides, he is my patient, and there is muscular damage, he will need assistance if one of your Elementals has to be pried out and carried back to a pickup point."

Allison shrugged noncomittally, then, she turned dismissively, and left the tent, once she closed the tent-flap, she grinned.  Useful, if only to provide motivation!

...most of them seem to be following the post 1944 studies that claimed that decisive rifle battles were resolved at less than 400 yards. (note: those studies were done at a time when rifles were designed to shoot over 1000 yards, and body-armour was a pipe-dream.)  While this was certainly true in Vietnam, to an extent, it has been repeatedly disproven in more recent fighting in places that are NOT overgrown Jungle.

My guess is that RPG weaponry was designed for urban fights, which is the environment characters are most likely to be in. They aren't expected to be playing infantrymen in a house army in country, but more commando-like maneuvers, such as ambush, or attacking a building. Combat that takes place within 100 metres.

It all boils down to terrain really. Defender tries to mould terrain so it offers herself maximum protection and minimum protection to attacker. Attacker does her best to come as close as possible in cover of terrain but you can shoot your rifle to 300-400 meters fairly easily if situation is good. Attacker would prefer to sneak up to handgrenade throwing range in cover if possible but it depends on situation (artillery fire, smoke, minefields, obstacles etc). These factors are often negleted in RPGs because they are difficult to model easily and gamers seldom put emphasis to those important issues.

Then again my NCO guide from early 1950's stresses importance of letting attacker to come to 50 meters and cut loose with every weapon because then defender's sudden fire is murderous and attacker will surely hit the deck and then get cut to pieces. However, some other sources suggest to open fire as early as possible to slow enemy movement so artillery can chew attacker up in good time. It all really depends on situation.

It also depends on factors like training-for instance, French troops in 1917 were astounded at USMC riflemen who engaged German positions at eight-hundered yards with consistently accurate fire (their own training, with its emphasis on bayonet charges against artillery pounded targets, did not emphasize long-range marksmanship by individual soldiers, against individual targets-favouring instead "Volley fire" at those distances!) employing both Springfields, and U.S. pattern 1917 Enfield rifles (the U.S. copy of the british P-14 rifle developed at Enfield in response to British experience during the Boer war against 7mm 1895 Mauser rifles).  Doctrine influences equipment, equipment influences training, training influences doctrine.  If your doctrine focuses on short-range engagements in a "limited war" setting, your equipment will tend toward lower-power, higher-capacity, faster-firing weapons.  those weapons in turn influence training, which influences the doctrine toward shorter ranges, volley-fire or suppressing fire, and the reliance on designated marksmen.  (as seen in Soviet and European modern doctrines, and as seen in certain fashions being paraded about in the modern Pentagon).

Why would the Kowloonese focus on long-range marksmanship? 

It's a matter of equipment and conditions influencing doctrine.  if you have a wealth of 'Mechs, and a political situation that requires lots of urban suppression, your soldiers are more likely to be facing rioters and house-to-house combat against poorly armed opposition.  The 'mechs are able to handle more 'regularized' opponents.  Somewhat like the soviets rolling tanks in Prague.

On the other hand, if you're expecting to launch infantry and inferior gear at superior equipment, trying to stay out of urban centres until the civilians can evacuate (i.e. you're fighting better-equipped pirates all the time, with little 'mech support), the ability to choose when to engage becomes more important.  Range capability means being able to select where and when to fight, and provides the ability to "Bleed" an enemy before he can close to engagement distances, wearing him down and weakening him.  Doctrine affects training-Kowloonese riflemen are some of the best trained riflemen in the Inner Sphere, they are trained to target  enemy troops at distances the enemy feels "Safe" (long range, like the Marines did to the Germans in '17) walking about, then un-ass to the next position while the enemy is reacting to the shots.
Naturally, this higher power-level per shot provides other benefits- it is more likely to penetrate body-armour at closer ranges (and this can be enhanced by bullet-construction and rifling pattern).

One of the unforseen outcomes of the war in Afghanistan, has been the U.S. military's frantic pursuit of .308 caliber rifles to arm selected marksmen in infantry units.  The higher-powered rifles are for both longer-ranged shots than the .223 rifles and carbines normally issued, but they also serve another purpose- .223 rifles have been shown to lack penetration at "Normal" engagement distances, particularly against mudbrick walls and car or truck doors-the kind of improvised cover their opposition is using extensively.  One outgrowth of htis, is the 6.8mm SPC cartridge being examined at Frankford Arsenal for the Special Forces units.  A round that has a higher "Velocity retention" (and thus, kinetic-energy retention) that will fit in the standard Armalite lower reciever and magazine-a bullet somewhere between the .223 (5.56) and .308 (7.62 Nato) classes.

In the meantime, units going to the "Near East" fronts have been noted as scrambling to obtain .308 caliber rifles ranging from civilianized-remilitarized FN-FAL, H&K G3, and AR-10T models to full-on Military M-14's that were sold to Eastern Europe by the U.S. after the end of the Cold war.

For our story's purposes, the Kowloonese are carrying a rifle that was once rejected by LAAF in favour of a high-capacity, smallbore, short-ranged and submachinegun-like "Commando weapon" (the TK-22), one that has found a great deal of popularity throughout the Lyran state as a sporting arm.  (a Militarized Mauser&Grey 150, per the stats in HB:HS).  The rifles are more expensive, but they are also accurate and long-ranged, with a hard-hitting round.  They are basically comparable in capability to an M-14 if you accept the TK-22 as an M-16 equivalent, based on doctrines and engagement ranges.

The higher pricetag for the M&G, and its lighter weight, are purely functions of materials used in manufacture, and manufacturing quality standards.  the TK-22 is an "Assault rifle", the M&G 150 (or Groves M-1mk1, the official nomenclature adopted by the GFM) is a full-on "Battle Rifle", designed for a doctrine that is...well... unpopular with most General Staff, and unlikely to be adopted anywhere else.

The real problem at those distances is actually identifying targets.
Back when i was in the BW, we still had G3's (mine was as old me...). Those things have adjustable sights maxing out at 400m, while their effective range is something over 3km!
And while i was reliably hitting mansized pop-up targets at 600m during the, uhm, field firing (Gefechtsschiessen?), doing that without a scope is kinda impractical, with the standard "iron sights" its more guesstimating than aiming, a kneeling man is pretty small at that distance. Its more like shooting at everything that moves, or at least you need that movement to realize there is a target at all.
Anyway, we weren't even intended to fire over that long range, the task was G3's up to 300m, the groups MG takes care of everything farther out (it was just that our MG gunner sucked).

Know what you mean ... back in school Cadets firing on the 500 yard range at Puckapunyl army base, with iron sights, using the SLR (7.62mm, equivelant to the Belgian FLN), I got 12 hits out of 10 shots one day. Had to be bullets from the guys on either side, but the range corporal scored them for me ;)

[Trace Coburn]

[[Posted 28-12-2006, 23:09:30]]

 
Joint Recon Alpha, 14 October, 3079...

Allison passed the 25 KM marker, and watched as their "forward support" passed overhead.   The tactic here was brutally simple-the helicopters would fly ahead of the recon 'mechs, maintaining a moving search-pattern, and dropping the occasional multipurpose sensor-pack,  until they took fire.  The Recon 'mechs would triangulate the location of the fire, and the artillery would light it up.  Then the sweep star would, alongside the surviving aircraft, "Mop them up".

The plan was, in her opinion, absolutely insane.  The fact that the VTOL crews were willing to fly such a risky mission, was even more insane..

to kill the enemy, you must first, Find him.

To Allison, of course, as a Star Commander, the idea of someone other than herself and her warriors going forth like this was mildly repugnant- the idea that these 'allied' VTOL-Soldiers were going out with the deliberate intent of drawing enemy fire for her benefit was outright sickening.
The fact that they were willing to do so, based on the logic that fewer of what they considered to be "Precious and Irreplaceable" 'mechs and Battlearmour would be put to risk...

That hurt.  It hurt in ways she was reluctant to discuss.
It hurt, because she knew, she would never strap into such flimsy machines, armed with pop-guns, with the express intent to dare certain death only to give the glory of the kill to another.

It hurt her pride, because the necessity was inescapably real-even light Clan 'mechs were more powerful and effective in Clan Warrior's hands, than the heaviest tanks, the most potent light infantry were nothing to Battlearmour... and the Clan forces were too few here.

"We are the hammer that shall shatter the sword."  she murmured.  and there goes the shield that will be shattered to buy time for the swing.

She spotted it a moment before the sensors did-a stream of tracers from two thousand meters away, slicing at the air where a chopper danced.

"Three O'Clock, just over the hill!"  a stream of coordinates, outlining an area of ECM appeared, as the flimsy air-vehicle swooped and dodged-only to erupt in a greasy fireball.  A stream of LRMs had brought it down.

"Get them."

Wild Weasels in 500 km/h planes with EW cover, integral ECM, and passive radar missiles are still plain nuts.  To fly such missions in rudimentary VTOLs...  #P #P

I sure hope the Falcos are paying for all the drinks at night...

Do Lyran mess halls take Kerenskys?

Lyrans are businessmen. They'll take monopoly money if they think they can make a profit on it.

[Trace Coburn]

[[Posted 29-12-2006, 22:52:03]]

 
15 October, 3079, 185 KM east and advancing...

Allison crested the hill-today, the VTOL crews managed to avoid being shot down-at least, so far.  The funeral rights she'd observed last night still lingered a bit.

"Bravo Sweep, we've found a compound here.  You have to see this." the Lead VTOL's pilot sounded like he was having a breathing problem.

"What is the problem, Buzzard, Over."  she responded, following the targeting carat.

"See for your self."

the feed wasn't being jammed this time.  The image on her vid showed...

"Savashri..." Allison whispered. Monsters.  animals...

"Do you-have you detected any life-signs?" she demanded.

"I'm landing to take a look on foot.  Maybe someone hid under a bed or something."

"Hold your position, Airboy, We will be there in five minutes, Over."  Allison snapped, "Maintain search-pattern over the site, this could be bait for a trap."  she added.

Bravo sweep star broke into a run.

Seven minutes later...

Allison's mind did not want to process what she was seeing.  Warrant Officer Li Huan's face was enough to tell her that she did not want to process it.

She turned at the sound of a Karnov-the Sweep-star's dustoff bird.

"Anyone at all?" she asked.

"We're still looking, ma'am."  Li Huan said, "But..."

Corpsman Pham and Doctor Gladys dropped off the Karnov's ramp, and hurried over. 

Gladys looked sick-a moment later, the Clan Medtech was.

Denh dropped to his knees at a small body, and picked it up.  He was shaking as he checked...

"Dead, Corpsman."  Allison said.

He lay the corpse on the ground gently, and covered it with shaking hands.

"have you found anyone alive?" he asked.

"Not yet.  The Elementals are searching the buildings for traps and survivors now... the helicopter crews are taking turns searching with them."  Allison said.

Denh picked up his bag, and headed deeper into the complex.


Jason Icaza shoved the corpse away from the door, and forced it open.

the lights were down in this chamber, he activated his NVG system.

He immediately wished he had not.  "Great Father."  he felt ill.

tanks held organs, and dozens of surgical tables.  Some of these were still occupied.  He swept the area with his night-vision system.  His heart surged with fury as it dawned on him what had gone on here.

He heard footsteps, unarmoured footsteps, behind him, he turned, laser charged.

It was a Lyran Medtech, the Corpsman who'd been assigned to the support team.

"Leave the lights off, and do not see this."  Jason said, "You really do not want to see-"

Denh seemed to ignore him, and activated the lights.

"For the love of Kerensky, do not Look at this!"

If Jason thought he felt horror, or anger...

The boy dropped his bag.

"I warned you."  Jason said.


Denh Pham walked past the Suit-trooper, and into the room.  The area was kept OR clean, he noted.  Of course they would, tissue gets infected quickly.

the tables were equipped with the type of cuffs used to restrain siezure patients.  He noted that the covers on the unused ones were clean and fresh, but the padding was beaten and crushed beneath.

"they organized it by tissue type."  He said, dully, as he swept the rows of tanks on the walls, "and date of extraction."

He walked over to one of the occupied tables.  Here, he checked for a pulse.  To his horror, he found that the woman on the table was still alive-at least, physically.
"Tell Star Comander Allison we have live survivors." he said, and added, "at least, the bodies are still alive."

"what-?"  Jason asked, though deep down, he already knew.

"Medical supplies.  they were parting out the prisoners for replacement organs, blood...skin...they kept them alive to keep the organs fresh, and when one died..." Denh gestured mutely at the tanks of frozen tissue, "Into cold storage."

"Monstrous..." Jason whispered.

"Yah, I need an EEG scanner, maybe they didn't burn the higher functions out of all of these folks, maybe we got here in time to save a few...and I think I'm going to need a lot of help."  Denh  said.

"How are you so calm about this? these are People?"  Jason demanded.

"I am so calm, because I have to be, to do my duty. to try and save some lives.  when I get a moment to think about it, I'm going to be hysterical, now could you please get off your gigantic ass and get me some ****** help here?"

Well, that one makes me wish that WOB would go back to nice wholesome attrocities like nukes and orbital bombardment of non-combatants.

Nicely written though.

Also, I seen to remember some references on the old boards to Kowloonese troops committing attrocities against WOB late in the Jihad.   I wonder if this is about to be one of those times...

[Trace Coburn]

[[Posted 30-12-2006, 10:05:50]]

 
1500 Hours...

Nathan Roshak watched the holoimages from the Blakist camp.  "Savages." he muttered.  He already knew what the Kowloonese thought-or would think. 

Savage, horrible...evil.  The record that the Kowloonese Levies had when they found atrocities was well known to him-the Watch had reams of records on how the ACR formations reacted to minor atrocities at Hesperus and Tharkad.

None of those, however, match up quite as much to their mythology, their 'history'... they are going to be hard to control.  he poured a cup of coffee from his thermos.  Then again, why would I be concerned about keeping them under control?

Nathan Roshak swallowed another gulp, as the search team on the screen found a few prisoners that were still alive, and still conscious.

the frightened faces on the screen, their signs of obvious abuse, then their mouths speaking words that weren't carried over the link, but carried nonetheless:  Thank god you came, thank god you're here...

And that tore it.  "Map.  Sector Twenty-Nine, political-geographic, indicate population centres and approximate potential enemy strength." 

The Blakists wouldn't have been able to run this place without local help.

His commlink buzzed, he checked the address.  (So, do I take Radick's call, or not?  Of course I do.  We are allies today.)

Star Colonel Emily Radick of the 2nd Wolf Legion appeared on the holotank.  "I hope you are calling to inform me that the supply line is secured.  We are quite...busy now."  Nathan said without preamble.

"Aff, your supply lines are now secured, and the Wolf Legion is set to ground in one day, twenty Hours and forty-four minutes.  I was hoping to get some up-to-date intelligence on conditions down there.  Care to oblige?" she replied.

Nathan frowned bitter, and said, "Prepare to recieve the latest intelligence.  I will be most interested in seeing your reaction to what we have found."  He sent the feed from the Camp-and the archived feeds.

'Interested'?  I'll bet.

Something tells me that when the 'Loonies go looking for those who helped the WoBbies perpetrate these obscenities, the Falcons and the Wolves aren't going to go out of their way to notice their 'reprisals' - much less restrain them - unless things get too out of hand.  }:)

A nice clean nuking of a genetic depository in an otherwise evactuated city was enough to declare a Trial of Annihlation on the Not Named Clan.  This?  Even the Wardens would consider wiping out the Wobbies 'pest control'.

Frankly finding something like this is enough for no prisoners, on either side.  The Allied forces, particularly Wolves, Falcon, and Kowloonese aren't going to be interested in taking any, save those that can be squeezed (via Clan chemical interrogation) for useful intelligence, and the advice among the soldiers fighting the Wobbies well be 'fight like hell, and save your last round for yourself.'

I have to say that I'm addicted to these stories now, but I do have a question.  Why do the 'loonies rely on Thumper artillery pieces instead of Snipers?  I understand that Long Toms are just too heavy and unwieldy, but wouldn't the Sniper's firepower offset it's increased mass?

Maybe, but Snipers are shorter ranged.  When your opponent counts Beta Wraiths amoung his bag of tricks, you want to keep your arty as far from him as you can.  WoB has shown itself adept (pun intended) at infiltration; you don't want to give the Manei Domini any easy targets.

I have to say that I'm addicted to these stories now, but I do have a question.  Why do the 'loonies rely on Thumper artillery pieces instead of Snipers?  I understand that Long Toms are just too heavy and unwieldy, but wouldn't the Sniper's firepower offset it's increased mass?

Two reasons, really:

1. Shots per ton of ammo-the Thumper has 20.

2. Turret weight.  The "Loonies" use the same tracked chassis for everything.  Mounting a Sniper would require too many changes to the Rommel/Patton lower chassis.

The Third reason has more to do with installing particular "Weaknesses" in keeping with the Kowloonese situation.  Thumpers are the sort of low-value, low-priority weapon-system that could be manufactured in large numbers without drawing too much attention.

Wait a second, are you saying that their SP-Arty is in a turret or it takes up the same weight as if a turret were installed?

Other than that, yeah it makes sense from a logistic and strategic PoV.

If thumpers are analogous to modern 105/122/152/155mm arty, it'll be in some form of limited traverse turret.

http://www.fas.org/man/dod-101/sys/land/row/pzh2000-Bild_Eleviert.jpg  [[Altered to direct link by editor to save screen-space]]

I thought Sniper was a 155mm, and the Thumper a 122/105 mm piece, with Long Tom being a 203mm?  And Thumper just fits in a Patton turret once you rip out the AC/10, LRM-5, and commander's small laser.

[Trace Coburn]

[[Posted 30-12-2006, 20:08:20]]

 
Shelbyville, 16 October, 3079, Charlie Company, 3rd Battalion Mechanized...

The first place they swept, was the upper-class neighbourhoods.  The houses here bore no marks of combat, whether recent or past.  The lawns were manicured, the gardens were perfect.

Corporal Hung's guts still hurt, but he felt fit enough for this job. 

Each squad had an assignment.  Robert led his fireteam up the walkway, and each member deployed.  Robert knocked on the door.

He held up the clipboard as the door opened.  "Is this the home of John Mark Streeter, Audra Streeter, and family?"  He asked the servant that answered.

"Yes..." the woman drawled.

"And you are..?" He asked.

"I am Chelsea, the house-manager." she replied.

"I see..." he flipped through the menu function, and found the name, "Chelsea Moraiant?"

"yes.  What is this about?" the woman asked.

"Are your employers home, ma'am?" Robert asked.

"The Lady Streeter is home,  but Mister Streeter has been called away on business-to the capital." Chelsea replied.

"Well...we'll interview him later, then."  Robert said, and smiled to the woman.  "I have instructions to escort the Lady, yourself, and certain members of the Household to be interviewed by Lyran Intelligence.  It would be better for all of you if you did not attempt to resist.. I can assure you that neither you, nor Mrs. Streeter, nor any member of the household will be harmed in any way if you do as requested."

A bus, driven up the quiet street from the local school district's motor pool by a member of the Supply unit waited nearby.

"Should we bring anything, spare clothes, or..?"

Robert shook his head, "No Ma'am, this won't take long, and you will be returned to your homes."

He followed Chelsea in, watched in silence as she informed Lady Streeter, as the women organized the children and got them ready...

He followed them out to the bus, he made sure they sat down, and checked the names off the list.


Other squads and fireteams did the same, and the busses filled up.

Two men from his squad were assigned to "his" bus-the bus filled with residents gathered by 2nd Platoon.

It took two hours to get everyone on the lists that was home loaded up.

The drive to the former Blakist compound took thirty minutes.

"Get off the bus.  assemble in the courtyard.  NOW."  Robert snarled it to the people packed on the bus-his mask of civility was un-necessary.

The civilians were confused, frightened, and stunned.

"Look at it."  Robert snarled.  "These-these are your Neighbours.  LOOK AT THEM."

He grabbed Mrs. Streeter by the hair, and pushed her into a pile of dead bodies.  "These were Your People.  Murdered by the men you were assisting, the men your Husband went to the Capital to meet with."

she wailed, and tried to stand, he kicked her, but felt nothing.  "You stayed comfortable, and they were parting these people out like old cars... there is more.  More you need to see, more you need to Understand."

She babbled, He discharged his firearm into the dirt at her feet, "Shut the hell up, you ****** collaborator bitch, you're going to see it all, you're going to Know what happened here... and so will everyone else, everyone you know, everyone you do not know."  He still felt nothing-nothing but that cold clotting sensation he'd felt when his platoon walked through this place, when they recieved their instructions.

"Stand up, you are going to see it all."  He reached down, and dragged her to her feet by her scalp.  "You will remember this, your children will, you will Never forget it."

Hmm, a memory of WWII. Although bringing the children may have been a bit much.

I'm on the side of the Kowlooneese.

[Trace Coburn]

[[Posted 30-12-2006, 22:22:06]]

 
Derry County, 253 KM east, and north, of Shelbyville...

Colonel Nguyen lowered the field-glasses, and clicked the sound-powered twice.  The absence of Third Battalion was, it turned out, no great loss-the offensive style of the Falcons kept the rest of the 45th Brigade moving, which was fine by Him.

In the distance, the pre-planned advance-barrage came down, concealing the Falcon 'mechs as they broke cover at a run, the Tanks following close behind to catch enemy stragglers that the Falcons were now free to push past.


Twenty hours ago...


"...catch them before they can sanitize the sites, over-run them before they can hide it."  General Evelyn Mosovich said, standing in the horror-factory outside Shelbyville.

"Agreed.  What about Shelbyville, though? what about the Collaborators?"  Nathan Roshak asked.

"My first instinct is to hang 'em, but I think there is a better punishment..." the myomer-covered skull-face of the Kowloonese General inclined toward Colonel Nguyen.

Thanh Nguyen assumed a role he only played rarely since being called-back, 'Teacher'.

"The pace of the advance must be faster, and harder than before, we must chase down the criminals who did this...but the townspeople, they had to know it was happening-maybe not the details, and maybe they were able to deny this...holocaust.., to dismiss it as rumours or stories.  I will assign one battalion to make certain they know this is real.  The rest of the Brigade will move at your pace, Galaxy Colonel, we will push as hard as you want to go-harder, if you slack.  There may be living people today, who will be put down if we give them the chance to, names that will be lost forever, if we don't."  Nguyen was cold as he said it, "Once, someone promised never to let this happen again-well, it has, we must do whatever is necessary to prevent it.  We must make certain no-one will ever deny this."

The colonel gestured at the unburied dead, "These, must never, ever, ever, be forgotten."

[Trace Coburn]

[[Posted 30-12-2006, 23:06:27]]

 
Interlude: a look to the future...

"...Of course, after a few years of peace, and after so many took up Devlin Stone's offer of resettlement, the Holocaust on Skye was forgotten, except in our records, and the records of the Kowloonese...well, maybe a few others.  Star Commander Allison became Allison Hazen, and a Star Colonel, one of the founders and leading proponents of the Mongol philosophy.  She believed, before she died, that the goal of a Jade Falcon domination was better, in every way, to allowing something like Shelbyville to happen again..."

-Star Colonel Grant Roshak, Falcon Jaegers, 3125 A.D.


"...The histories that are written in the Republic focus mainly on my grandfather's generation taking civilians out to the forest, and abusing them verbally and physically.  Nobody in that sector wants to remember The Crime.  The revisions even leak into Lyran books, denials that anyone collaborated with the Blakists, that these pogroms even happened.  The Clans remember, we remember, a few groups of relocated survivors remember.  I guess it will be like the Shoah, something swept under the rug and denied to avoid 'rocking the boat'..."

-Rabbi Jonah Hung, 3124 A.D.

"...The central government tried to classify what we found on Skye, but by then, too many knew about it-too many had seen it, and they could not arrange for the Clanners to 'conveniently disappear'.   We almost derailed the Stone proposal with it, you know.  Made a lot of enemies in those days... We damn near mutinied when Victor's Pardon showed up as a rumour..."

-Professor Thanh Nguyen, KAITA, Kowloon, 3192 A.D.

"I remember the screaming.  I remember the screaming, and the lights, and I remember that the handsomest man I ever saw was the soldier who came to our barracks, and said everything would be alright, that we were safe now.  I remember, and everything is not alright, it will never be alright.., but at that moment, he was the most gorgeous man on any world..."

-Dierdre McBrannaugh, Survivor of Camp 24 (outside Londonderry, on Skye), Group Therapy session,  Henry Ngo Psychiatric Institute, Kowloon, 3085

[Trace Coburn]

[[Posted 30-12-2006, 23:30:46]]


[out of story]
I'm not sure I want to continue this story.  The last couple parts centred around the camp made me ill even thinking about, and the "interlude" part might get flushed, because the cynicism inherent in it-that anyone would be willing to try and shuffle something like that under the carpet...

But people do.  People Have.

I think I may have overdosed on horrors, both real (I grabbed from historical background for a lot of this), and imagined (I also nabbed a lot of speculative stuff.)

I don't even know why this got written, especially the way I wrote it.  What started out as a rip-snortin' adventure got turned into something more like... I'm not sure.

I'm left wondering if I crossed a line I shouldn't have, a line I have no right to cross.

I need to take some time and think about this.

Literature changes people. It shows something new, or something you were forgetting.
Please, do not change anything.
It is awful, nasty, and oh so true.

Again, please leave this.

Please continue.

Cannonshop, don't let up now.  You're one of the best non-canon writers I've ever seen and it's all because of how lifelike you make these stories.  Yes, these last few installments have been brutal and, frankly, just a little too lifelike for comfort, but the fact remains this is what wars of ideology are like.  To stop now, leaving these stories hanging with the Blakists getting away with this horror, isn't right.  Ride it out and see justice done.  Otherwise, we're all going to have these never ending scenes running through our heads, with no hope of seeing an ending.  I don't think any of us want that, so please just finish this story.

Your story lead you to territory most writers won't go near. You handled the subject with the appropriate respect and gravitas. That's more than most writers can claim. Please finish. This is an incredible story.

I'm with those above.  The horrors we already know the WoB perpetrated make something like what you depict inevitable.  Please continue the story.  Take as much time as you need, then come back and show the Word receiving the extinction they so richly deserve.

I don't think it's likely that something like this could be covered up. If it's happening on Skye, it's happening on other worlds too. Trying to eliminate such atrocities from the record would be utterly futile in the free press environment of the Lyran Commonwealth, Federated Suns, or former Free Worlds League. If nothing else I'm sure Cameron-Jones or Humphreys would use the Blakist record as fodder for their propaganda as to why House Marik had forfeited their leadership rights over the League. The Capellan Confederation is not a free press but would obviously have every advantage in seizing upon every horrible thing the Word of Blake has done to justify their own brutal actions in the Jihad. The Draconis Combine, now probably under Black Dragon control, is likely to have a similar approach to WoB actions.

I think it's a lot more likely that the pardon of Blakists involved the regular soldiers of the Militia as well as various collaborators uninvolved with the atrocities committed by WoB. Revisionism would focus more on the supposed distinction between the regular Militia forces, duped by the Master and unconnected with the nastier, more personal brutalities committed in the Jihad (there is a distinction between the nuclear devastation of Sarna which killed billions, and Kentares which killed a couple dozen million, and not favorable to Kentares) which will presumably be blamed on the Manei Domini, the Toyoma and Sixth of June, and the Master. There is, of course, one rather obvious example of exactly how this has played out historically, and there will probably be some people arguing decades later that the Manei Domini were just regular military forces like the Militia and that only ROM was responsible for the atrocities that maybe the Master didn't know about.

Hmm, a memory of WWII. Although bringing the children may have been a bit much.

Nicer than the Americans, they made every able bodied person between 16 and 50 or 60 turn out not only to tour the death camps in Germany, but to bury all the dead.  And the Soviets, well rumor is they left the guards and collaborators tied up, gave the most able prisoners their pistols and went for a long walk.  After which they had a rather fewer prisoners to escort back.

Your story lead you to territory most writers won't go near. You handled the subject with the appropriate respect and gravitas. That's more than most writers can claim. Please finish. This is an incredible story.

Seyla.  Part of making sure that events like the Holocaust never happen again, is being willing to address them appropriately in fictional literature as well as in history books.  However, we understand if writing that aspect of the story takes you to a very dark place and you wish time to recover from it.

This is a rough area to explore, and you are exploring it well.

If you don't want to continue exploring this, you could make references on other worlds of suicide charges left in Blakist installations, that destroyed enemy units that tried to make use of the location.  Translation - they left the charges to make sure nobody saw what was going on, and decided to take advantage of the situation to kill their enemies.

Still, we haven't seen the WoB side of this battle yet.  When will it happen?  The cackling villain is out, but a logical, ordered, 'rational' mind in charge of the WoB forces would be nice.  The leader simply notes that 'hospital 11-D' has been lost to the enemy, thus forces in that area will have to receive medical supplies from a further location.  The more important consideration is the higher tempo and aggression of enemy forces in the area.  Plans are then made to exploit the higher tempo and aggression to cause higher casualties on the enemy.  A side note is made to install destruction charges in current hospitals involved in 'organ storage projects' to deny usage to the enemy, and prevent higher tempos occurring at unreliable intervals.  As several locations are in danger of being captured by the enemy, the troops are ordered to perform the destruction themselves.

Even more fun, is show off the WoB 'humanitarian efforts', where they went through the community, and people who had lost limbs, or were never born with them had new limbs installed.  WoB training centers showed them how to use (or remember using) their limbs, and during battle the civilians rise up to protect the WoB members who helped them.  There could even be 5th column members who strike from the rear.

Cannonshop,

I think you've handled a very nasty subject very well.   Take as long as you need and don't let us fans rush you into writing more than you want.

Thank you again for all the stuff you have written so far.

[out of story]
I'm not sure I want to continue this story.  The last couple parts centred around the camp made me ill even thinking about, and the "interlude" part might get flushed, because the cynicism inherent in it-that anyone would be willing to try and shuffle something like that under the carpet...

But people do.  People Have.

I think I may have overdosed on horrors, both real (I grabbed from historical background for a lot of this), and imagined (I also nabbed a lot of speculative stuff.)

I don't even know why this got written, especially the way I wrote it.  What started out as a rip-snortin' adventure got turned into something more like... I'm not sure.

I'm left wondering if I crossed a line I shouldn't have, a line I have no right to cross.

I need to take some time and think about this.

In my small measure of experience writing, I've found that some of a guy's best work can also be some of the most draining. I honestly haven't figured out if its worth putting oneself through that just for the writing, and I've done it a lot.

But it's honest in a way that many writers are afraid to be, and it's good, for whatever that's worth.

Another objection to sending Blakist death camps down the memory hole that comes to mind now is a simple test. Can you imagine Victor doing it? Granted the Littlest Prince is a moron, but would he support a pardon that precluded going after the people responsible for atrocities like that? It's far easier to imagine a (perhaps arbitrary) division between Good Blakists and Bad Blakists, than it is to imagine that an anti-Blakist coalition would just give out a blanket pardon. The argument that Devlin Stone was a Blakist plant also seems to have lost its credibility in light of Surrender Your Dreams, which provides a glimpse into the future and reveals a bit more about how Stone operated. Ruthless bastard visionary, certainly, but not a Word of Blake sympathizer or pawn (or knight, or rook, or perhaps queen) of the Master. Making Kowloon extraordinary is fine, but the existing material and canon simply doesn't support Victor being the sort of person that would allow such a massive miscarriage of justice, nor can I see any real advantage for the Republic and Houses, whose legitimacy after the Jihad will certainly rest on their role in the war against the Word of Blake, systematically suppressing evidence of Blakist atrocities. There is an obvious precedent here, one I won't get into for running afoul of politics, but rehabilitating Blakist foot soldiers is not entirely inconsistent with a committment to hunting down the worst specimins and remembering what atrocities the Word of Blake did inflict.

Also the Mongols in Flight of the Falcon thought that randomly executing 1 in 10 civilians in a city on a world where they have met no resistance whatsoever is good counterinsurgency work. I suspect that the Mongols owe far more to Word of Blake's mentality than they do to humanitarian outrage at what the Blakists were capable of.

You know, the more I read these stories, the more sense it makes for Robinson's defenders to be fanatical in their opposition to the Combine, especially the Arkab regiments.  I wonder if Kowloon is the only place where this type of mindset has shown up.

[out of story]

I don't know.  I don't write for Robinson. [shrug].


Something you have to remember, when reading the "Snippets" is that views expressed may, or may not, reflect actual events.  Particularly in regards to in-universe politics.  What is basic, sensible actions by Governments to "Move on" and "restore order" will tend to look, to some people, more like efforts to "Bury the truth", and "Forget about it", to "Make it didn't happen".   How much difference, prewar, is anyone likely to see (outside the ruling circles of the Great Houses) between Comstar, and the Word of Blake?  NOT MUCH.  We know from MWDA history that Comstar was given the HPG's to run after the Jihad, and that they re-adopted a lot of the same "old-school" mystical trappings they'd had prior to Waterly's assassination.

Now, how do you think this is likely to play in Da-Nang, or Ia Drang?
Remember also that one of the "big uglies" about the Ngoverse, is that while the battles ranged over many worlds, only a limited few sent large forces to fight out of their own populations (as in, large formations of their own home-grown troops).  This is especially so with Kowloon in the Lyran Alliance-few worlds had invested in such large militia that the Archon could draw heavily from it, and most of those worlds were too hammered by '72 to do so to any great degree.  Kowloon's misfortune is that it suffered lightly from a single attack, and heavily through conscription and Levies.  These are not the Cosmopolitan, politically savvy, Gentry normally found in the uniform of the LAAF, these are grim-faced, politically almost-ignorant, angry middle-and-lower-class provincials, they're not sophisticated in the distinctions between white-robed mystics, they only know that "Robes" dropped weapons on their world, and have been doing things from their ancestral nightmares to what they see as "innocent people", they don't, for the most part (Taken as a group) have much interest in seeing "Process done", they want Justice and they spell it  Vengeance.

But they aren't the majority of the Alliance, hell, they're not even the majority of their "Home Theatre", they're a minority, and one can not govern to the tune of the minority when said minority holds little power, or interest in holding power...not and keep ones' empire mostly intact.
The Cession of the Skye Federation mostly to the Republic also removed a major portion of any demand for "Rough Justice" in the overall populace of the Alliance-the bulk of the victims dispersed and thus, disorganized, the living and the dead are effectively silenced by a lack of concentrated memory, and there is also the need to play safe with the demands for peace...

I always wondered if that wasn't part of Stone's relocation programme.
Sure, "officially" it was about breaking up nationalism, but atrocities at that scale tend to become part of that national identity, and if you break that up, it turns to mere history.

A Professor and a Rabbi, though, are both educated men. Maybe not politically... practical, and perhaps prone to using hyperbole, depending on the situation. The problem with using snippets, and I've done so with every chapter in my own work, is that you can only give so much context. Otherwise it sort of defeats the point of having a snippet. So you have to rely on the "voice" of the person being quoted. Both of the quotes looked a tad more earnest to me than perhaps they were intended to.

Another objection to sending Blakist death camps down the memory hole that comes to mind now is a simple test. Can you imagine Victor doing it?

Been there, done that.

Before 1st Succession War all houses recruited old Amaris troopers to their armies right after the Liberation of Terra. They were given titles and lands and ranks. With any luck the "evil" hero of this novel should gain comfortable position as head scientist in a major Fed Suns laboratory, perhaps in rebuilt NAIS.

  Some of the current Successor Lords are less amoral than their predecessors.  Some white-washing will occur, but the Blakists who ran that 'organ harvest camp' will almost certainly pay with their lives for having done so.

[Trace Coburn]

[[Posted 01-01-2007, 00:01:13]]

 
Camp 24, Londonderry...

Denh Pham dropped off the transport-helo into the middle of the courtyard-and the middle of the Elemental formation.  Jason swept the area with his suit's sensors, and gave the Corpsman a caution-wave, moments before the hidden machinegun opened fire.
Three elementals from the Point separated the machinegun from its mounting with a single blast from their suit-lasers.

Jason made another signal with his manipulator-claw, and the team rushed the first entry.  The Clan warrior knew it was futile trying to keep the Corpsman from following.  Futile, and sometimes frustrating.  Pham wouldn't carry so much as a pistol, though the portable torch set and handsaw at least gave the man the ability to open a damaged suit to treat the man inside.  well, there are the explosives... but Jason dismissed those immediately-they were raw explosives, not something a warrior-even a spectacularly brave or foolish one, could use in direct combat.  They were for opening walls or doors that had been jammed impassably shut, or for removing things too large for even a suited man to lift off of a comrade.

Not one of Jason's warriors-at least, not one of the veterans, would dare call the Kowloonese Medtech a coward, though- sobriquets like "insane", and "crazy-brave", even "Unbalanced" were frequent recharge-period terms, however-usually while the young medtech was sewing someone's wounds shut or cracking jokes while he administered shots to keep the Warriors of the Sweep Star in top condition.  Any words like "Coward" vanished in a cluster of houses yesterday...

16 October, 3070...

The Blakists were falling back, hammering away with combined fire, raking the sweep star with heavy fire and hurling Infernoes like candy from a parade.

Denh dropped off the Medevac with his pack on his back-the support-platoon from Bravo First had been pinned down behind a barn, and they had lost their Corpsman.  Two Elementals from the Lead Point of the Sweep Star were escorting him in, when he heard the screams from the house.

It was a typical one-story home, and it was engulfed in flames.

"Civilians."  He said, looked at Gladys, "Take the Escorts to the barn, Someone has to get that kid out."

Enemy fire traced along his track as he ran into  the farmhouse.  There was a dead man on the floor near the door.  Fire licked the walls, and spread red-orange branches of autumn foliage across ceilings.  The air smelled bad.  Sweet pork and dry ammonia stink- burning feces.

he felt the door-from the "Hot side" it felt cold. the fire will follow me in-hell, it'll go in ahead of me... He saw an axe on the floor-a woodsplitting maul.  Vent the combustion gasses first... His body felt like a big sunburn, he turned and smashed the bathroom wall out-opening it to the outdoors, and drawing the combustion-gasses away from the nursery.

His eyes watered inside the filter-mask, a device issued against chemical weapons, but somewhat effective against choking smoke.

Only somewhat.

He smashed the door in, and seemed to sense the children.  There were three, one on the floor and out like a light, and two very small.

No mind...no mind.  he scooped them up, wrapped the infant in a blanket that he hoped was treated with retardant the way such things are sold as being, and carried them through the maze No mind, the heat does not touch me for god and the Angels are with me...

Fresh air hit him like a club across the face.

Something buzzed past his head, and that reoriented him-he was on the wrong side of the house.

Lord, take me if you must but spare these little ones.  his lungs convulsed inside the mask as he ran...

The enemy guns went silent, replaced by ratcheting explosions and the sound of SRM fire.

"You know, you are the luckiest Stravag I ever saw."  a battlesuit loomed out of the corner behind the house.

"Hack-cough, wha?" Denh set the children on the ground, and pulled his mask off.  "What's 'at?" he blinked the smoke from his eyes.

"You-lucky-really lucky.  you tripped them into giving away their position, with that incredibly stupid stunt, Corpsman Denh." the Warrior was Jason, and Denh thought he might see a grin in the dim behind the narrow eyeslit.

"Saved three, the parents were already dead."  Denh said, and hacked again.

"Three.  That really is all you care about, Quiaff?"  Jason asked.

"Well... there is this girl back home..." Denh said, and flashed a grin, "I got a platoon to look after, anyone in the Star take a hit while I was being a damned fool?"

"Neg, at least, at the moment.  Follow the trail past the chicken-coop.  While you are at it, I suppose we will need to summon medevac for these?"

"Well, considering what I went through getting them out?" Denh replied.


Today...

Denh huddled against the armoured doorway as the elementals hammered at gun-positions in the courtyard, and looked for a way in that did not take the strength of the Elementals-and thus take one of them off the firing line.

Gotta get in, they could be finishing people off in there...  He reached down into his bag, and pulled out something one of the Engineers had given him.  He unwrapped foil, and pressed it into shape the way that he'd been taught to form entry-cratering charges for getting into overturned ships in the harbour.  "I'm going to blow the door, Jason." Denh said.

"Hurry, then, about it, and tell me before you fire the blast."