Imperial City, Luthien
Pesht District, Draconis Combine
20 October 2779
The Black Room no longer held novelty for Zabu. It was a rare day he didn’t find himself there and some nights he would wake suddenly besides a pillow woman and realise he’d been haunting the command centre in his dreams, wrestling with the burdens.
“Without more supplies we cannot take the war back to the Davions,” Fujiwara insisted. “Rasalhague and Pesht districts have reserves that we must be given access to.” The Warlord of Benjamin was hollow-eyed, the disease that was eating away at his liver draining him more and more.
“There are no such reserves,” Manati insisted. “All that remained after previous shipments was used to combat the rebel SLDF.”
Zabu closed his eyes in meditation. This feuding was useful to him personally, for it kept the pair from uniting against him, but it was beginning to weaken the DCMS as their districts took cues from their leaders. How to respond, what would father have done? No, what would grandfather have done? Ah, yes. That could work.
“I hear the chirping of a bird,” he said, just loud enough to be audible. All eyes turned to him. “Warlord Fujiwara, since you believe we have untapped reserves of supplies in Pesht, you are to replace Warlord Manati in command of his district. Warlord Manati has proven his fitness to command in defeating General Nakazono and shall replace Warlord Fujiwara in command of Benjamin District.”
Both men stared at him, then at each other. They scowled and subsided into their seats.
“Lord Kurita.” Warlord Sorenson of Rasalhague was a distant cousin to House Kurita but was wise enough not to presume upon the connection. “Such a rearrangement could further delay a renewed offensive.”
“The Dragon has clawed twice at the Suns and found their strikes blunted. It behoves the high command to give great consideration to how a third attack may succeed.” In other words, ‘like hell am I attacking again as things stand’.
“And as our stockpiles have been depleted we’ll need time to rebuild them,” agreed Manati. “More factories must be established to provide the material of war for the DCMS.”
“Efforts are under way,” General Takara assured them. She was one of the very few women to reach a senior rank in the DCMS, a fussy woman with spectacles she looked over more than through. But she was just as precise with a katana as with her words and had killed fourteen men in kenjutsu duels through her career. “Such measures will take time, however.”
“And in the short term, what does the Department of Procurement suggest?” sneered Fujiwara.
Zabu held up his hand to silence the warlord. Once he had their attention he turned the back of his hand towards them and slowly closed his fingers until he was showing them a clenched fist. “It seems to me that there are indeed stockpiles of war material that have yet to be tapped,” he observed. “It is merely that they are not within Pesht or Rasalhague District. You should investigate such sources, Warlord Sorenson.”
Sorenson’s eyes flicked from Zabu’s hand to the Coordinator’s eyes. He bowed deeply. “Indeed, our lord sees deeply,” he murmured. “May I enquire, the harmony of the Star League is…”
“There has been little harmony within the Star League of late. Let us not be seen to disturb it further.”
“Of course, lord.”
Zabu turned to the ISF liaison officer. “I understand there to be fresh reports with regard to the Capellans’ efforts against the Federated Suns?”
“Yes lord.” The man touched a control. “Lord Baltazar Liao, the Capellan heir, led a naval squadron against the shipyards at Kathil. Our sources confirm that the yards were significantly damaged but not destroyed and only one warship, CCS Solstice returned – so badly damaged that without access to a major shipyard it will be years before it is battle-ready.”
“Their carriers failed then?” asked Tai-sho Murata of the Draconis Combine Admiralty.
“They were destroyed but their fighters inflicted significant losses on the Federated Suns. Our understanding is that the experiment has been considered a success and further Carrack-class ships are to be converted.”
Zabu nodded. “It is to be expected that in copying our own measures that they would find some form of victory. Continue to train more pilots, Murata. It is clear that this form of naval warfare has its own costs and I shall require both pilots and MechWarriors in the future.”
The MechWarriors present brindled and he feigned amusement. “Consider a daisho, the twin swords both long and short. And do the samurai not master both sword and bow? Does the one weapon diminish the other?”
Manati nodded. “Of course, Lord Kurita. Your wisdom is ever before us as a guide.”
“We have also received confirmation,” the ISF officer added, “that the Capellan heir survived the destruction of his flagship. Unfortunately, the Solstice was unable to recover him and he is in Davion hands.”
“Damn!” Sorenson exclaimed. “If he is used as a hostage…”
“Davion would not dare,” disagreed Fujiwara. “To act like Amaris would stain his reputation and the Prince preens it too much to risk it.”
Zabu considered the two men and then looked back to the spy. “And your superior’s analysis?”
“Lord, we do not believe Lord Davion would overtly threaten Lord Liao. It seems more likely that he will permit the Chancellor’s fears to moderate her actions and perhaps use this to open some form of negotiations.”
“A subtle strategy,” the Coordinator agreed. “So, we cannot expect the Capellans to strike boldly or with great effect.” He smiled slightly. “No change then, I suppose?”
Manati laughed out loud. “Indeed, lord.”
Even Fujiwara managed a slight smile, but it faded swiftly. “Davion’s flanks will be… subdued then. He will be able to focus his full attention on Lucas and the SLDF.”
“Do you not believe in them?” asked Takara curiously.
The newly appointed Warlord of Pesht shook his shaven head sharply. “They are lesser men, with lesser leadership. They toppled Amaris, but he was not of Davion’s calibre.”
“You thought little of him a moment ago.”
“He is proud, too proud to stoop to threats against the helpless,” Fujiwara gave a baleful look at a map upon the wall. “And yet, his victories make it clear that his pride is not without foundation.”
“It is said that man is measured by the greatness of his enemies,” Zabu noted. “It seems that House Kurita is blessed with a powerful enemy.”
.o0O0o.
Avalon City, New Avalon
Crucis March, Federated Suns
9 November 2779
John nodded to Owen as he entered the outer office. “Good morning. Is there anything unexpected today?”
His secretary pushed back his chair and rose to his feet. “Nothing new but Minister Reznick thinks you’ll want to hear her news at the first opportunity so she’ll be here in a couple of minutes and I pushed the meeting with Minister Parks back to before lunch.”
“Hmm. I wonder what she’s turned up,” John mused and then smiled wryly. “I guess I don’t have to be patient for very long.”
He hadn’t seen Hanse so far this morning. The ghost was familiar with his schedule and hadn’t seemed particularly interested in sitting through a finance meeting first thing, so he probably wouldn’t turn up for a few hours. His loss.
Freshly made coffee was steaming on the First Prince’s desk as Francesca Reznick was ushered into the room right on the dot of 09:00. The Minister of Intelligence was neatly dressed and her hair was slightly damp but the lines around her eyes suggested she’d been up all night.
“Hello Francesca. Coffee?”
“Thank you, sire. That smells wonderful.”
John already knew how she took her coffee so he used the tongs to drop a single sugar cube into the black coffee and carried it over to the coffee table for her, setting his own mug down opposite her. “I assume there’s some new development?”
“Yes sir. News from the Magistracy via one of our Taurian connections.”
He settled down into the armchair. “Bad news?”
“For those involved, at least,” Reznick agreed and sipped the coffee. “The Free Worlds League has broken the ceasefire with the Periphery, they’ve attacked Canopus.”
“My god! An invasion?”
She shook her head. “No, although the Captain-General may have been testing the waters. A small squadron of warships – four brand new League-class destroyers – struck at their orbitals. They had several transports with them so the analysts think the idea was to strip supplies and tooling from the shipyard there to go towards restoring the SelaSys yards after MI6’s raid earlier this year.”
John frowned and lifted his own mug. “Did they act openly or was this a deniable operation?” he asked before drinking.
“Fully overt, sir. Normally that sort of squadron would merit a commodore but the commanding officer was Captain Thaddeus Marik, Kenyon Marik’s younger son. He seems to have something of a direct approach to obstacles and he doesn’t like being thwarted.”
“That sounds ominous.”
Reznick made a face and gulped down a mouthful of coffee before expanding. “The Canopians don’t have any warships left but they have armed dropships and aerospace fighters and the Magestrix made it clear that they weren’t going to just hand over what Marik wanted. When he didn’t bear off, they went for him with everything they could scrape together.”
The First Prince winced at the thought. League-class destroyers were tough customers – smaller and slower than a Davion-class but their railguns gave them a lot of firepower and they’d outrange most weapons a dropship could carry.
“Everything, in this case, included six Buccaneer freighters refitted with a pair of capital missile tubes each,” the Minister continued. “None of the freighters survived, of course, but they took out two of the destroyers and severely damaged Marik’s flagship – fortunately for him the Ospina only took a single glancing hit. Fifty kiloton warheads are no respecters of rank.”
“Indeed not.”
Reznick nodded sharply. “Once it was clear they couldn’t stop the Ospina and the one undamaged ship, FWLS Otavalo, the Canopians demolished the yard. If they couldn’t have it, they wouldn’t let the Mariks profit by it.”
“I can’t say I’m surprised. You said Thaddeus Marik didn’t like to be thwarted?”
“No sire.” She drew herself up. “His words – from an unencrypted broadcast – were that if the Canopians wanted to see their industries burn then he was happy to oblige. The Ospina and the Otavalo spent forty minutes bombarding the industrial centres around Crimson, the Canopian capital, before breaking orbit.”
John closed his eyes in prayer. After Robinson he’d hoped the worst was over. How naïve of him. “How bad was it?”
“The good news is that the factories weren’t buried under residential areas the way modern cities are laid out – most of the factories had been thrown up quickly to meet the need for goods that can’t be imported now. But there were firestorms and from the reports it seems like a third of the city is gone. Casualties will be in the tens of thousands.” She paused. “And Janina Centrella was in Crimson. We don’t have confirmation yet but our sources said no one had heard from her since the bombardment. Her daughter Rwannah is overseeing a provisional administration from the old capital of Delphi but there’s a good chance that the Magestrix is dead.”
“Dammit. No official statement I assume?”
“No. Thus far the Magestrix is simply ‘unavailable to comment’ but even a recorded statement would settle a lot rumours. Our best guess is that Rwannah wants to defer the usual squabbling with the Electors until she has her feet under her.”
“That might make sense. Acting ‘on her mother’s behalf’ might let her get more done right now than if she confirms the office is vacant and has to settle for just being one candidate.” John finished his coffee. “What do the Taurians have to say?”
“Protector Calderon has formally announced that the ceasefire with the Star League has been broken and that their remaining warships stand ready to defend them. They seem more worried about the Capellans than us though.”
“I think Barbara Liao has other concerns right now. On the other hand, that’s one wasp’s nest I don’t want to throw the AFFS into.”
“Back into, sir. The AFFS was there in ’65 and ’66,” Reznick reminded him. “The Suns isn’t really much more popular than the Capellans are, they just grasp that we’ve no real option but to leave them alone while we’ve got the SLDF occupying Cartago PDZ and half of the Marlette region.”
“Mmm.” John rubbed his face. “I suppose we’ll have to see about regularising our relationship. The trade’s been gradually on the upswing and it’s one of the brighter spots of the economy right now.”
“A little outside my field,” Reznick noted. “It’s interesting they’re claiming they have warships though. We knew they had one left, the Parin, but the phrasing suggests there’s at least one more.”
“That’s true. And finding out is your field, Minister,” he told her with a slight smile that faded as he considered the Taurian border. A single carrier group was at the Capellan end of the border but otherwise the nearest ships came to the region were the output of the Tortuga yards passing through on their way to the Capellan or Crucis Marches. Not much more than one ship a year wasn’t much of a protection. If relationships soured he’d need to move at least some patrols out to the region as well. “At least we have three fresh ‘Mech regiments in the area,” John said out loud. Some of the Federated Suns Lancers were lukewarm about facing the SLDF but they’d have no hesitation about defending his worlds against Taurian raids if it came to that.
.o0O0o.
The Triad, Tharkad
Protectorate of Donegal, Lyran Commonwealth
14 November 2779
The medical wing of the Triad had all the equipment of a major hospital and the personnel to match, even if they were normally under-utilised. Justification for that lavish provision lay in a bed, surrounded by life support machinery.
“What happened?” Jennifer Steiner asked, not taking her eyes off the rail-thin form of her elder brother. More than two decades separated them and Robert had been more of a favourite uncle than a sibling to the twins born unexpectedly late in his parent’s marriage.
Her twin shrugged helplessly. “Some sort of a stroke, if I understand the doctors. He’s been under a lot of strain.” Paul looked more and more like their father as he grew older but he wore fewer decorations on his uniform.
“More bad news from Tamar?” Bandit activity had risen sharply over the last three months, specifically targeting LCAF depots. Credibly it could be SLDF units turning renegade after their attempted coup inside the Combine had failed, either going pirate or crossing Lyran space to seek refuge with General Kerensky inside the Rim Worlds Protectorate.
Three warships and a dozen dropships configured as tankers had hit Tamar itself, destroying the cruiser Gallery and causing damage to the Bolson-Tamar shipyards. That had been more or less incidental to their capture of the orbital warehouses that supplied the yards. Three-quarters of a million tons of naval ordnance had been emptied into their holds and they’d even topped off their hydrogen tanks.
Jennifer knew that Robert took the fuelling as support for the SLDF theory but she was also aware that the Lyran Intelligence Corps had picked up reports of increased activity in Rasalhague district and cautiously suggested that this might be the Draconis Combine going back to the sort of deniable strikes that they’d carried out in the 2750s. There was some question whether they would have the ability after their recent casualties though.
Paul hesitated and then shook his head. “What have you heard about Finmark?”
“One of the Rim’s provincial capitals?” She shook her head. “Nothing lately. Should I have?”
“Given the security, probably not. On the other hand, you are the heir…”
Jennifer slammed the flat of her hand against the glass separating them from their brother’s hospital room. “Until he wakes up I’m effectively his regent. What should I know?”
Her twin took a deep breath. “Robert was convinced that Kerensky was behind the attacks so he ordered a retaliatory attack on Finmark.”
“Jesus!” she exclaimed. The SLDF – active and former – revered Kerensky. So did most of the proles in every Inner Sphere state. The fact he’d personally killed Amaris’ commanding general in single combat had cemented his role as a living legend. The last thing anyone in power needed was for him to return from the semi-exile that his post in the Rim Worlds amounted to.
“Half the Fourteenth Division was assigned to occupy Finmark long enough for the stores there to be emptied.” Her brother made a face. “They have been conflicting reports on their readiness but we’ve been focused more on getting the troops along the League and Hegemony borders into shape. I didn’t expect that part of the border to turn into a hotspot.”
“I take it then that the attack did not go well?”
“Hauptmann-General Brewer escaped with around two infantry battalions worth of actual troops – mostly because they’d never disembarked from their dropships.”
Jennifer blinked. “We lost more than seven regiments?” Lyran regiments were to all practical purposes what the SLDF would call a brigade battlegroup, combining infantry, armoured and BattleMech troops along with supporting arms.
“That was the initial report.” Paul glanced aside and with long practise his twin sister identified the reason as guilt. “It was closer to four regiments. Brewer had got to the inspector general’s office in that area.”
“It’s a long time since my time with the LCAF. What are you saying?”
“On paper the two brigades were at full strength and drawing supplies and pay accordingly. In practise, Brewer had been padding his reports and claiming numbers based on local militias and noble retinues that actually never participated in operations. I’ve asked LIC to help unravel it but I think one of the regiments he claimed didn’t even exist – I’ve not found one outside source of seeing the Seventh Arcturan Guards since they were reportedly formed in ‘72.”
Words failed Jennifer for a moment. Her fists were clenched so tightly she could feel her fingernails digging into her hands. “You sent paper soldiers to fight Kerensky’s hand-picked loyalists?”
Paul swallowed nervously. “So it would seem.”
She leant forwards and rested her forehead on the cold glass. “I take it Brewer was banking the pay and disposing of the supplies for his own benefit?”
“I assume so. We’ll need to build a case.”
Various obscenities begged to be voiced but that wouldn’t help.
“Alright. We can work with this,” Jennifer said at last. “Firstly, Brewer was not ordered to attack Finmark.”
“But…”
“Bury the trail, Paul. This was an unauthorised attack by an officer we’re going to find out was corrupt up to his eyebrows. I’ll issue a formal apology to Kerensky and throw Brewer and his associates – no one can pull this sort of thing alone – to the wolves. The one good thing about the Protector’s popularity is that no one in the Estates-General will kick off about slamming Brewer for attacking him.”
“The Brewers have a lot of stock in Defiance Industries. They could make life difficult for you.”
“We have a garrison practically inside their factories – we do have a garrison on Hesperus II, don’t we? That one’s not just on paper is it?”
“I checked Hesperus II personally,” her brother confirmed. “It’s too important a world not to make sure of.”
“Then if the Brewers kick off then we’ll detain them, freeze their accounts and turn the accountants loose on them. I’d rather not make scapegoats of the entire House but if that’s what I need to do to get the Commonwealth out of this hole then it’s a small price to pay.”
Paul nodded. “I’ll take care of it.”
“No, I’ll take care of it. You go through our forces with a toothcomb and find out what we really have in troop strength. Clean house for me Paul. Falsifying data like this is treason and however weak we might be I think we have the rope for a gallows.”
“That’ll hurt morale,” he warned.
“Only among the deadwood of our officer corps,” Jennifer retorted. “If anyone protests then they’re welcome to resign. This sort of rot cannot be allowed.”
He paused and nodded. “I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be sorry, Paul. Fix this. Fix this before someone kicks this whole rotten mess out from under us.”
.o0O0o.
Avalon City, New Avalon
Crucis March, Federated Suns
20 December 2779
“I think Joshua was right about David Avellar,” John noted as he reviewed the latest reports from the Outworlds Alliance.
Hanse looked away from the screen where one of his favoured operas was being replayed – this time a performance by New Avalon Opera House, John had sponsored a series of performances. One of his unofficial responsibilities as First Prince was to be a patron of the arts and requesting a schedule of millennia-old operas was pretty patronising. “How so?”
“Unlike his mother he has a pretty good idea what’s going on. After both Kenyon Marik and Robert Steiner took stabs at their periphery neighbours he’s moved proactively in case Zabu Kurita does the same.” John held up the noteputer so that his companion could see it. “Stripped of the legalese, his new arrangement with the Pentagon League gives them access to most of the capacity of the Quatre Belle shipyards but in exchange they have to station a good portion of their warship strength there, securing it against raids.”
The redhead nodded in appreciation. “However unhappy he might be with the DeCheviliers he’s not hesitant to make use of them.”
Cynthia DeChevilier’s Pentagon League had settled for less than total independence of the Outworlds Alliance in the end. Instead they’d become a self-governing province stretching from Wynn’s Roost to Onverwacht, granted wide discretion in their industrialisation and militarisation. Or demilitarisation, since less than forty systems (some of them only sparsely populated) had difficulty supporting Aaron DeChevilier’s military forces.
In exchange, they would pay a small proportion of their taxes to the Outworlds Alliance treasury – not so small in absolute terms as industrialisation increased the wealth of the worlds – and the votes they were theoretically entitled to on the Executive Parliament were ceded to the President, giving David Avellar a lock on a quarter of the votes cast.
The reorganisation of the worlds surrounding the Pentagon League had enlarged Cerberus, Baliggora and Blommestein Provinces but it had also let Avellar move his supporters into positions within the provincial government. It was a long long way from giving him the power of most of his peers, but he was already wielding more authority than any President in the history of the Outworlds Alliance.
“If he doesn’t overplay his hand, this could transform the Alliance,” John noted thoughtfully. “Not into the equal of ourselves or the Combine but perhaps to the point of being the tipping point for influence in the region.”
“He doesn’t have any other neighbours to worry about I suppose,” agreed Hanse. “But it would be very easy for him to upset the Parliament and they still have the power to topple him. They aren’t fond of over-mighty leaders over there. After all, they mostly fled there to get away from tyrannical warmongers like House Davion.”
John threw back his head and laughed. “I hope we can shed that reputation.”
“Saints don’t get much done, John. Sometimes in politics you have to get your hands dirty. In this case, I hope he does well. Anything constraining Zabu Kurita helps us.”
“I think the Draconis Combine won’t be an issue for a good few years now. We’ve got some hard numbers on their losses and they had over a hundred and forty of their divisions – call it seventy divisions by our standards – at their high point, which was after First Robinson. Right now, our figures say they’re operating on one hundred and twenty-five divisions and half of them are seriously understrength, effective strength is something like seventy percent of that.”
“As exciting as that news is, the other side of that equation is our strength. Care to remind me of our losses?” asked Hanse with a raised eyebrow.
John fell quiet. “Sixteen divisions have been lost or disbanded,” he admitted. “A fifth of our strength gone in three years. If it wasn’t for the continued flow of defectors from the SLDF we’d be on the point of collapse.” Then his voice picked up. “But with them we’re stronger than ever. Almost as strong as the DCMS and CCAF combined.”
“Now if that was only all that we had to deal with.”
The First Prince nodded and reached for his handset, thumbing the volume of the opera up a little. He didn’t want to be overheard now of all times. “Francesca’s best estimate is that Lucas will be ready to resume his push on Markesan in the spring and he’ll have forty SLDF divisions and eighty warships to do it with. In theory we outnumber him but I can’t strip the Capellan or Draconis Marches so… really it’ll be forty or so of our divisions and thirty-three warships.”
Hanse leant back in his chair. “And that’s assuming that Barbara remains tractable.”
“I think I have to assume that. Right now, however badly the Capellan March will be hammered if she pushes it pales to what Lucas can do if he makes it another sixty light years.” Only about a hundred light years separated the SLDF spearheads from where John and Hanse sat. “I have to stop him now.”
“I told you not to hang everything on the capital,” the ghost warned. “But yes. Even if we preserve command integrity, it’d be a sign of weakness we can’t afford.”
“We’d fight on, we might even win in the end if it was just a matter of military power, but the High Council is finely balanced right now. It wouldn’t take many votes to shift for them to remove me.”
Hanse’s blue eyes snapped. “Damn politicians. In my day they’d never dare question the First Prince on military matters.”
“In your day every last member of the High Council had grown up with constant war. As had their parents, grand-parents… at least six generations of them. That’s not the case now and you’re blind to that, Hanse.” John gave him a steady look. “I know these people. I feel the same way.”
“And if Barbara pushes, despite us having her son?”
“Oddly less of an issue – most of the representatives along the Capellan border are already on the side of the Star League. What could bring me down is serious defectors from the Crucis March region. If I can’t protect the core of my power base then they have reason to doubt my fitness.”
Hanse nodded. “One last roll of the dice then.”
“Please stop using gambling metaphors. I get enough of that from Joel.”
“He’s got good sense,” John’s theoretical descendant observed. “Although he’d say it’s more you’re betting high on a pair of fours.”
“Please. I have a joker in my hand.” He frowned and then thumbed the opera off.
“Hey!”
“If I’m using gambling terms then it’s definitely too late in the evening.” John put the handset down and gathered up his papers. An early night sounded very tempting. “I’ll pick things up in the morning.”