Long Story Short: Life happens.
This will probably be my last entry in the KNT universe for awhile, while I would love to go back and play in it, and feel there are a lot of stories left to tell, I have other priorities at the moment, and I do not know if and when I would be fully able to commit to what needs to be done for me to keep creating. That said I have been very lucky to create something a lot of people have enjoyed, and hopefully future readers will enjoy as well. Thanks for reading and participating!
HE didn't know how long he was out,s omething had slammed against the side of his mechs head, and the feedback was more than enough for his brain to cope in the best way it knew how, it knocked him out. He didn't shake his head, previous experience had told him it would be a bad idea, instead taking a few moments to gather himself, listening to the sound of the rain hitting his cockpit glass.
The he realized that it wasn’t raining, its was bullets that were hitting the thick plexi, and from the looks of it, a few more impacts in the right place and he would be in trouble. He levered the Zeus up, the mech rocking from another autocannon hit fired by a Vedette that was rapidly trying to back away away, a squad of rifleman running by it. A Large laser and SRM salvo later, the Vedettes turret was spinning thru the air, a sheet of flame and sympathetic detonations following it, the soliders lying on the concrete wounded or worse.
When he turned back towards the compound, all he saw were dead bodies, burning vehicles and buildings, and a Quickdraw limping on a fused knee.
"Davout!" The radio sparked to life, an open frequency. He knew the voice instantly. Gone was the taunting arrogance from the Valley.
"Davout!" Barringtons voice was pitching higher.
"I'm going to kill you Barringon."
"You going to kill all the hostages I have with me?"
"They aren't my people. I don't care about them."
"You care about the people in the city?"
Davout stopped his walk, as the Quickdraw came closer.
"I'm in the reactor control room," Barrington said. "My...associates were kind enough to bring it online after your friend caused the local power plant to shut down. I hit a button, it goes critical. And everyone dies."
"Including you. Good."
Andrew started walking his machine towards the building his intel had told him was the bases reactor building. Given it's shape, obviously thicker create walls, low cooling tower and the size of the power cables coming out of it, there was little else the building could be.
The air was quiet, the snap of the occasional round going off because of nearby heat and the crackling of the numerous fires around him all he heard over the hum of his mechs own reactor.
"You let me live, I'll tell you everything you want to know about my...benefactors."
That brought Davout up short. Given what they had run into, including the mech Barrington himself had been piloting, and some of the other reports going around, that could be some very good information.
"Sir, A word in private?" Lannes voice came over another channel. Davout flipped to it.
"I don't trust him sir."
"I don't either Jacob, but information is information."
"And if he's lying?"
"Then he's lying."
"I can't live with that, can you?"
Davout thought about it for a few moments.
"There's the individual Kearney has sir." Lannes voice was quiet, barely loud enough to be heard.
Davout sat and thought.
"I trust Kearney more than I trust that piece of trash in there sir."
Davout nodded in agreement, and switched back to the other channel.
"-EAN IT COLONEL, I WILL BLOW UP THIS ENTIRE FACILITY IF YOU DON'T GIVE ME WHAT I WANT!" Barrington's voice was well on the edge of sanity, and Davout heard more than felt the spittle directed at him.
"Can we go in there and root him out?" Davout asked
"Not by ourselves sir."
"Call in the reinforcements then."
"They don't know where we are, and we can't contact them, we destroyed the one transmitter strong enough to reach the base." As if on cue the remains of the communications tower blew up, adding more flames and smoke to the night sky.
"WHAT'S YOUR ANSWER COLONEL?" Barrington demanded.
"Sir. Andrew."
He couldn't help it, it was the first time in almost a decade he had hear Lannes use his first name.
"Tell Molly I love her."
Davout was still processing what Lannes had said when the Quickdraw's leg connected with his own. Not expecting the sudden physical attack, and still suffering from the previous bellringer, Andrew fell, helped along by a fist that Lannes landed on his shoulder. The Zeus didn't really have a neck, but the impact of the 60 ton mechs impact shook him in his straps, and the nausea almost caused him to pass out again. By the time he had recovered enough of his sense to sit up, the Quickdraw had already risen on plasma flames, and plummeted thru the small cooling tower atop the building. Laser fire, muted explosions, and then a larger explosion shook the ground, followed by more firing and explosions, which stopped only when a section of the cooling tower broke of and crashed inwards. A sensor in the cockpit started blaring.
"Andrew..." Lannes voice coughed. "He's dead. They're all dead. Now Run." Davout took one look at the blaring sensor and ran.
The Zeus wasn't the quickest mech in the Inner Sphere, and while the ground wasn't flat it was mostly clear, and Davout was willing the mech to do more than the 60 kph it was doing.
Night became day, and he threw the mech face down on the ground, covering the top and back of his head as best as he could. Even with his eyes shut as tightly as he could manage, he still saw sunlight. A few seconds later he felt the rumble thru the ground, and then the 80 ton mech was lifted into the air, before crashing back down, and a few seconds after that, a wall of sound and fury washed over him. When the ground stopped shaking, he levered his unit back up, took a compass reading, and moved as fast as he could towards it, ignoring the mushroom cloud rising in the night sky behind him. And hour later his own reactor sensors start going off, the blast wave had apparently taken of what remaining rear armor he had, and damaged his own reactors shielding. He ran as fast as he could as long as he could, until the sun was rising, and the reactor was critical. Grabbing his survival kit, his weapon, and with one last pat on the control panel, he kicked the emergency ladder out of the cockpit, lowered himself to the ground as fast as he could, and started running. Ten minutes later he heard the explosion behind him.
* * * * *
"And that’s what happened Mr. Weisz." Andrew finished telling his story, and finished off the bottle of water he had taken from the youthful looking intelligence officer.
"I see," Weisz hadn't taken any notes, nor did he have a recorder on him. Instead he sat opposite Davout on another bench, listening intently the entire time."
"And the other asset you acquired?" he finally asked.
"Can't tell you. OPSEC and a few other rules are in play."
Weisz was quiet, as if thinking to himself, then nodded and stood up. Davout stood up a moment later.
"Do you have plans for this evening?"
Weisz looked at him and shook his head.
"Fiddler's Green, 1630. Your pass will be at the security gate." Davout turned around and took off at a rune before Weisz could answer.
* * * * *
The guards let him thru without a problem, he parked his rental vehicle, and as he got out he saw Davout walk out of converted conex container and wave. He waved back, feeling a little ridiculous as he did, but Davout handed him a badge, which he clipped to his jacket, and they they were going back thru the conex and into the Angels base.
It did not look like a military installation, the style of the houses and location of some of the other buildings didn't fit was he was used to, but a practiced eye could see fields of fire, defensive positions, potential emplacements. He felt a presence behind him, and glanced over his shoulder, and saw two very competent looking infantrymen walking a discrete distance away from them. Davout said hi to more than a few people as they walked by him, and the infantry platoon that ran by gave a loud "GOOD AFTERNOON SIR!" as they ran by as well. A few minutes later, after cresting a small hill, the lake was before them. There were some temporary stands being constructed, and something large and covered with cloth near the waters edge.
Davout made a motion with his hands, and it took Weisz a minute to realize that they were alone, walking along the shoreline.
"I met your mother once, on Hesperus in '19" Davout said, hands in his pocket.
Karl stopped walking. "My...mother, Colonel?"
"Colonel Sarah Weisz, commander of Delta Regiment, of the Wolf Dragoons. I met her after the Battle of Tanada's Crossing on Hesperus, my company was thrown in with the Roughriders to stop them from reaching the factories. It was a prisoner exchange, well after the fighting had stopped and the Wolves were in the process of retreating off planet. You have her eye's," Davout smiled as he waved his hand in front of his face. "How is she?"
"She's...doing well, all things considered. Trying to enjoy retirement on Outreach."
Davout nodded. "Why are you here?" he asked.
"I've been tasked to investigate whats been going on in Lyran border with regards to pirate activity."
"By?"
"Our employer Sir." It wasn't exactly a lie, and Davout was smart enough to know that Duke Ridzik had little if any interest in the extreme borders of a neighboring Star Nation.
"You were on Robinson?" Davout asked, starting to walk on the waters edge again. Weisz paused before catching up.
"Yes. I was party of the Artillery Spotting Group, then the Home Guard."
They walked in silence for a minute.
"Why?" Davout asked, and Weisz knew the unspoken question.
"The past ten years have see more change politically, militarily, and economically than the last 100. There are a lot of wheels within wheels moving, hidden friends, open enemies. RUMINT says the Federated Commonwealth is going to make a move within the next ten years against the Capellans or the Combine. Or Both. We can’t afford to be caught unawares again."
They walked in silence a little longer, at one point Davout reached down and picked up a flat rock, and with an effortless flow threw it across the lake, watching as it skipped and bounced over the water before sinking.
"I'll make you a deal. What rank do you hold now?"
"Captain. I am a captain now. Sir."
"I'll make you a deal Captain Weisz. Or rather, your unit a deal."
Weisz was silent for a moment, then nodded his head.
"Trade for trade. You give us most of what you know, we give you most of what we know. We share that with the others involved. Given the number of attacks all around, what your doing is intel gathering, and thats a good thing, but it’s useless unless it gets back to the people that need it, especially after all the layers of bureaucrap it goes thru in some places. Share with the others, get another perspective or three. Maybe someone else somewhere sees something we don't."
"Their is a common thread in more than one report Colonel Davout."
Davout nodded, then looked back at the stands behind them. They were slowly filling up, with more people headed towards them.
"I know. It bother me too. That's my offer Captain. We have to head back." he said, looking at the younger man. Weisz nodded almost imperceptibly, and then followed Davout back towards the crowd of people.
* * * * *
Davout was waving everyone back down to sit after a senior noncom had called everyone to attention. Clipping on a microphone, he went over and kissed his wife, rubbed his sons hair, and after gesturing for the Captain to sit by his wife, he went and stood in front of the covered structure.
"IS this on yes it is," he said with a smile. "Any issues hearing me? No? Good." He walked around for a moment, then held his hands in front of him.
"My Family has grown a lot these last 15 years. At one point, I knew everyones name, now I'm lucky I remember what I had for breakfast last week." he said with a smile, which was followed by polite laughter.
"They say Family is where your loved ones are, Family is what you come home to, that you will fight for family harder than you will for the state, or its leaders." He looked at Weisz as he said the last.
"We didn't, that is most of us didn't, choose to fight for money, or glory, or little pieces of ribbon. Ultimately, what we fight for are those you see around you right now, and those that came before them, and who will follow them. But a family, while it is a Home, needs something more...permanent. Mr. Collingswood? Can you come down please?"
It took a few minutes, but an elderly man married to one of the senior dropship technicians made his was down to where the colonel was standing.
"A few years ago, Mr. Collingwood was nominated and voted in as the Civilian representative of the unit. I wanted to inform him, and you, that as of 1700 hours, that position is no longer required, and Mr. Collingwoods services are needed in another position." There was some outcry, especially from many of the dependents in the crowd. Even Collingwood looked mad.
Davout held his hand us, and reached into a jacket pocket, pulling out a scroll of paper.
"This," Davout. said, holding the paper up as the crowd quieted down, "Is the legal paperwork affirming the creation of the Town of Fiddler's Green, constituted as of this date, and registered in Summerville, and on Skye and Tharkad.
“Mr. Collingwood, Fiddler's Green needs a Mayor, do you accept?" He held out the scroll to the older man, who looked at him for a moment, then grabbed it, momentarily surprised when the Colonel didn't let go.
"I call for a voice vote in the matter, those in favor of Mr. Collingswood becoming mayor say AYE!"
The sound back was almost a roar, and after letting go of the scroll, he made a motion for the new Mayor to stay.
"Your first act is going to be the formation of a council, Mayor Collingswood," Davout said, reaching into his breast pocket again. This time he had a small chip case in his hand.
"The finances of the last contract have been settled, as have the wills and testaments of those who are no longer with us. In addition to those stipulations, and my families own contribution," he nodded at Molly, who was struggling holding a restless JJ in her lap, "The Fallen Angels Fund has purchased approximately 8700 hectacres of land surrounding Fiddlers Green, to include the water, mineral and other resources rights in perpetuity. The details are on the chip." This time the crowd was silent, as Mr, no Mayor, Collingswood accepted the chip, and then walked back to his spot in the stands, looking to be on the verge of tears. The realization of what had just happened started a low murmur in the crowd, one that was getting louder until Davout coughed lightly and had then attention of everyone.
"That is not the only reason we are here today," Davout said, after a few moments of silence.
"Many of you do not know the name Margrite Voelker," he said, pausing to touch the cross around his neck. "She was the young lady, on Delacour, who gave us our name, the Furious Angels," he paused for a moment, than looked back up. "Angels are thought of in different ways. Some religions treat them as benevolent and kind. Others treat them as God's warriors, horrible beings full of righteous hate, anger, justice. Beautiful, charismatic, ugly, fearsome, terrifying in their glory..."
"As the commander of this unit, I have made decisions I am not proud of, decisions I am not comfortable with, given commands that have led people to their death, and have caused people to leave the unit, but that is my burden and one I accept. But we would not be here today without those individuals, many of whom are no longer with us. Despite their lack of physical presence among us, they are with us, in name, in deed, in spirit. But we have grown to the point where not everyone knows of them, and that saddens me. These men and women are one of the pillars that make us a family, the honored dead, and we should remember them, because they did some very courageous things. Some gave their lives to protect others, some gave their lives to stop others, some became the monsters we need to be in order to defeat our enemies, others became the Monsters we need them to be in order to protect us."
He stopped speaking for a moment, the stands quiet.
"Yes, makin' mock o' uniforms that guard you while you sleep
Is cheaper than them uniforms, an' they're starvation cheap;
An' hustlin' drunken soldiers when they're goin' large a bit
Is five times better business than paradin' in full kit.
Then it's Tommy this, an' Tommy that, an' "Tommy, 'ow's yer soul?"
But it's "Thin red line of 'eroes" when the drums begin to roll,
The drums begin to roll, my boys, the drums begin to roll,
O it's "Thin red line of 'eroes" when the drums begin to roll."
More than a few soldiers smiled at the Kipling verse, 1000 years later the words were as true as when they were written.
"Or, in a more modern vernacular, People sleep peacefully in their beds at night because rough men stand ready to do violence on those that would harm us," Davout said, looking around the stands. "And while some people believe we commit those acts for a few credits, we know better. And the people who have gone before us knew better as well. I think we started to get away from that after the Fourth, and the recent campaign and it's aftermath told me that we had. We forgot why we do this, and who we do this for. And that is my fault. And this is how we fix that situation." He reached over and undid a couple of snaps, and with a short, powerful tug, the canvas came away.
It was a statue, of marble. A Smooth square on the bottom, then about four feet up, breaking away into a pair of legs. A mechwarrior, kit torn in places, in his arms cradling a young woman, dress burned, headship torn, stands of hair falling out, the warriors face was plain, the eyes looking towards the heaven, as the wings on his back lifted them skyward. Davout stepped away, and you could see the smaller inscriptions on the front.
"Inscribed here are the names of the men and women who have died while wearing the crest of the unit. If you want to know more about their story, in a few months over by the mess hall there will be a small building, where you can record a story about a name on the memorial here, or read or listen to stories about a name on here. The names on here, Gouvion Bessieres, Jason Suvarov, Alan Bernadotte, Owen Friesland, Jenna Mitchell, countless others, died not because they were chasing a paycheck, not because of love of country, but for those next to them, and those behind them. From this day forward, we remember their sacrifices, and why they made them, and we hope that if and when it becomes out time, we can make the same decision, and our friends will welcome us to the hearth, with fiddles and dance waiting.
"We do not seek glory, we do not seek death, we protect those the need it, fight for those that can't, and if the situation calls for it, become the Angels of Death and Destruction to fulfill our mission. The names on this statue, and there will be more added over time, including my own someday, did those things before us, and we would dishonor them by not trying to live up to the example we set. I do not know what the future holds, I do not know what it brings, but I make this promise, on behalf of myself and the senior leadership of the unit, we will do our best to do right by you, and right by them," he gestured to the names on the front, "And God help those who expect us to do or say otherwise, because they will feel the full fury and righteous anger of the Furious Angels!" The last part was a yell, and was answered in kind by the assembly in front of him, almost a thousand voices roaring in their agreement.
"Seyla," whispered Weisz, his word lost in the noise.