"Emergence" - BattleTech Dark Ages/BattleTech AU Crossover Event

[Steve]

Government Office of Justice, Laughlin Capital District
Roslyn, Eastern Islay
Arcadia, Arcadia Royal March
Royal Federation


Nearly two centuries old now, the Laughlin Capital District was a section of Roslyn set aside for the business of interstellar government.  The home of the Free March Assembly and Ducal Council when the original Arcadian Free March was founded, it now contained all of the major offices of the Royal Federation in its borders, with the Palace of Parliament the dominant feature in the center of the District, adjoined by the Esplanade with the bistros and restaurants and shops that provided services to those working in the District.  Rebuilt following the devastation of the Terran invasion of 3050-51, the District was home to all of the Great Offices of State in the Royal Federation, with Parliament's two Houses serving as the beating heart of the area.

Today that heart wasn't beating quite so vigorously.  The famed traffic of aircars, wheeled vehicles, and even the occasional private VTOL was down to a trickle, making it easy for John Albright to navigate his motor pool-provided car through the boulevards and promenades of the District to the Government Office of Justice.  The skyscraper, with a front facade facing Ferrier Square that included thick square columns and a mural depicting the scales of Justice aloft in glowing clouds, was home to the Royal Federation's Office of Justice; the Attorney-General and Solicitor-General offices were both found in this complex, as were some of the connecting administrative offices for the law enforcement authorities of the Federation and the Royal Comptroller-General's Office, responsible for internal government oversight.

Albright's identification was already in the system, allowing him a parking space in the adjoining garage.  The doors into the building led him into the central foyer from the side instead of the street-facing doors, changing his perspective slightly from that of someone coming in the front door.  Nevertheless it was an inspiring sight; the circular information desk, and an adjoining security desk, on fine tiled floors, while the alabaster columns came with statuary or paintings depicting an assortment of historical moments celebrating everything from Hammurabi's Code to the Ten Commandments, a stylization of the Hadiths of Muhammed, Magna Carta, and on.

Today the building was very quiet, such that he could even wonder if maybe he got the date wrong.  He approved the reception desk, aware he was somewhat out of place in his formal AFRF uniform, and introduced himself.  "I'm here for Lord Cassel's meeting."  He provided his personal ID as he spoke.

"Of course."  The speaker was a local, with that soft Islay burr Albright was getting used to.  She made a check of his ID and handed it back, along with a badge.  "Take the lift to the sixth floor, go down the hall to the right, door 624.  This will open it for you."

"Thank you."

The lift played a gentle symphony, much to Albright's pleasure.  He'd held back in his New Year's Eve celebration knowing this meeting was coming, and the irritation at losing a chance to unwind given the recent tenor of his sessions with Malvina was palpable.  But Lord Cassel was a believer in work, reportedly, and seemingly had the view that if he was willing to work on a holiday, so should others.

Albright arrived at the office in question.  The metal plaque beside the door said everything that needed to be known of the nature of this meeting.

"Royal Law Commission on the Prevention and Prosecution of War Crimes and Crimes Against Humanity"

To think we need such an institution…  He sighed at the thought and, finding the door unlocked, entered.  A young woman in a dark blue hijab and full-sleeved gray blouse and barnous was seated at a desk.  "Doctor Albright?  His Lordship is waiting with the others," she said, her English thickly accented with Thermpolitan tones.  "Through the main doors please."

The main doors were the big set of wooden double doors with the brass handles, he imagined.  Albright walked up and opened the door, gaining admittance to the room within.  His eyes swept over the attendees.  A number of suited figures, civilian lawyers or experts undoubtedly, with a few AFRF uniforms in their number, were at the main table.  Lord Cassel was visible given the cut of his medium-collared suit, a Court fashion, and the serious weight showing in his dark brown eyes, rather darker than the shade of his tanned, wrinkled skin.

Yet it was for the woman near his side that Albright's hand snapped up to his forehead, his spine going straight. Vice Admiral Dame Diana Sirtis was the head of the AFRF Medical Department's Military Psychiatry Division, responsible for Albright and every other military psychiatrist in the AFRF.  He had even greater reason to salute as his eyes spied the wolf-haired man between her and Lord Cassel, with a four star rank and uniform and the green trim color of an Army officer.  They acknowledged his salute with quick nods.  "At ease, Doctor," the General beside Lord Cassel said.

"Doctor Albright."  Lord Cassel's voice was reserved, measured, and spoken with a fine Star League English.  "Good to have you."  He motioned to a seat somewhat split off from any of the others.  "Happy New Year, of course."

"Happy New Year to you as well, Your Lordship."  Albright took the seat.  A young aide, perhaps a lawyer in his own right, provided a glass of water.

"Coffee and tea are available, if you need stronger refreshment from whatever New Year festivities you indulged in last night," Cassel added.

"A coffee will be fine, a dash of milk with it, if possible."

The aide went to get the requested drink while Albright quietly appraised his superiors and the other attendees.  One with a rank insignia and green trim marking him a Major had the Military Psychiatry pin.  The others were all JAG officers like the General, whose name tag read "Penton-MacIntyre".

"As you might imagine, Doctor, your current patient is our subject matter," Lord Cassel said.  "I invited General Penton-MacIntyre, as Chief of Staff of the Judge Advocate General's Office, to join myself and Vice Admiral Sirtis and the Crown prosecutors under my authority to make an important determination."

The silence that followed told Albright he was to fill in the blanks, so to speak.  "You wish to determine if Malvina Hazen can be put on trial, if she's fit to be a defendant."

"Yes, Doctor.  We have read your reports, and those of another of your peers, Major Pardi over here."  He gestured to the man Albright already noted as being in his field.  "But I would like to hear what you have to offer before finalizing my decision."

"So you already have a decision in mind, my Lord?"

"I do, but I wish to ensure I know everything before proceeding.  Your reports posit interesting theories as to a variety of psychoses she may suffer from, butu you've yet to put onto paper whether she is mentally fit to stand trial.  I would like to know why."

"I wished to have a chance to build some more rapport and learn more about her thinking, my Lord," he answered.  "Much of what she's done stems from childhood trauma, in my view.  By experience she was taught from an early age that everything was a threat, and the only way to survive was to kill anything threatening her."

"How absolute is this, though?" Pardi asked.  "Going by the material there's no sign the culture she is from is unable to grasp the concept of her conduct being wrong.  By her own testimony she had to kill her former leader and many others of her Clan to secure power, given their opposition to her means."

"Whatever culture she was intended to follow, her upbringing nevertheless created powerful impulses in the directions cited."  Albright stopped long enough to accept a mug of coffee, which he took a testing sip from before indulging in a longer drink.  "Do you have any disagreement, Doctor?"

"I do not dispute your official diagnoses so far.  PTSD signs are obvious, as are a form of violent sociopathy.  My point is that there is nothing in your reports to confirm why you have refrained from a determination on her fitness to stand trial."

"As I said, I wished more data to be certain of my findings."

Instead of Pardi speaking again, Cassel went next.  "I admire thoroughness, Doctor.  That said, if I were to ask your determination today, what reply do you think you'd give?"

Albright noted the way the others were looking at him.  His suspicions of Cassel's decision were all but confirmed to him at this point; this was a meeting to prepare for Malvina's formal tribunal and prosecution.  "I am not comfortable giving such a judgement for the same reason I've committed no finding or recommendation to writing, Your Lordship," he replied, keeping his voice even and unchallenging.  "As I am on the spot, however, in my judgement, I would have to decide against a finding of mental competency at this time."

That won him hard looks and a few sets of rolled eyes.  It seems I am to play the part of the 'overly caring psychologist who resists trying the criminal' role in this drama.

Cassel gave no such reaction save what looked like mild curiosity.  "You do consider her unfit, then, Doctor Albright?"

"At this juncture that would have to be my choice, yes," Albright replied.  "By all indications the subject is unable to conceive of the world in any rational way.  Her crippling and the fact she has not yet been fitted for prosthetics, leaving her unable to perform any task and with nothing to occupy her physically, only intensifies this problem.  At this point all she has, emotionally and mentally, is to relive her traumas, and that has left her even less equipped to participate in a court proceeding, especially her own defense."

Cassel nodded.  When Pardi's hand rose slightly he nodded in his direction.  "Doctor?"

"Doctor Albright, by your own reports, Hazen has none of the usual signs of lack of competency used to determine inability to stand trial," Pardi said.  "She does not experience hallucinations, she does not have a voice in her head demanding she kill, or any other indications of not mentally comprehending reality.  By all metrics, while her traumas and the resulting psychoses are undoubtedly fascinating case studies, there is no psychiatric justification to declare her unfit to stand trial."

Albright's eyes met his opposite's and did not flinch away.  "I don't deny any of that.  She does not have the usual failure to perceive reality that determines competency.  What she does have is a life of such experiences that left her unfit to comprehend reality in any rational pattern.  She conceives the world in threats and non-threats, and threats must be killed before they can kill her, to the extent that any who resist her must be killed by her reckoning."

"That does not mean she does not understand that tormenting and killing civilians is wrong.  It means she considers it acceptable.  She is not mad, she merely has no appreciation for the value of life."  Pardi held a hand out.  "Otherwise every Kuritan war criminal we might ever face would likewise be said to be unfit for trial, as the reality of their society makes their atrocities appropriate."

"I think you understate the extent of Ms. Hazen's mental condition and perception, Doctor," Albright insisted.  "The Combine may be raising its people to venerate the Kuritas and find it acceptable to commit terrible things in their name, but they still conceive of such things as wrongs, they just see them as acceptable if performed in the name of Kuritan conquest."

"That's semantical hair-splitting."

"The childhood Malvina Hazen went through was more akin to stories you hear about post-collapse pirate bands who beat and tortured their own recruits to induct them.  There are case studies of people recovered from such groups, I recall, including determinations of legal responsibility for crimes committed due to traumatic upbringings."

"The Giacomo Lucenzo case, Doctor?" asked Admiral Sirtis.

Albright nodded briskly.  "Yes, Doctor, ma'am.  That is perhaps the primary example of this kind of scenario."

"The Lucenzo case?" one of the civilians asked.  "What are you referring to?"

Albright let Sirtis explain.  "Giacomo Lucenzo was kidnapped as a child during the Cutter Brigade's 3002 sack of Novara.  He was raised in the unit, abused, taught to enjoy murder, and operated with the infantry forces of the Brigade in the battle for Hollabrunn in 3019, where he was badly wounded and captured by Free March forces.  Like all the Brigade survivors he was charged with crimes against humanity for his role in the various atrocities committed by the Cutters, and psychiatrists questioned his competency due to his post-capture interviews and the recovered documentation of the Brigade about his origins."

"I think I remember that case," said Cassel.  "He was, in the end, ruled competent?"

"Only on some of the charges involving crimes against civilians," Albright said.  "And even that was disputed, but it was argued that he was old enough when taken to have understood what the Brigade was doing was wrong, even if he could not be ruled as understanding violations of military rules and custom to sustain charges of war crimes."

"Then the precedent favors ruling Hazen competent as well," one of the Crown prosecutors said.  "I'm satisfied."

"Again, it was disputed," Albright said insistently.  "The Free March military psychiatrists who studied Lucenzo couldn't decide the extent of his ability to recognize what atrocities against civilians consisted of, since he was still young enough when taken that the Cutter Brigade's brutality would have been a part of life for him and impacted his ability to conceive of what was right and wrong.  One of the convictions was even overturned from the testimony of the attending psychiatrists.  And Hazen's case is even more pronounced than Lucenzo's.  He was eight when taken.  She was born into the Clan system and spent a lifetime being abused and threatened with starvation and death."

"And yet we still have the same issue as the Lucenzo case," Pardi spoke up.  "There was no issue with disassociation with reality.  They didn't hear voices in their heads demanding they kill.  They didn't perceive their victims as monsters trying to slaughter them.  They knew they were killing human beings and shouldn't be.  And Lucenzo was at least a captured foot soldier, not the leader of the Brigade, nor the one who instituted its brutal behavior.  Malvina Hazen is the leader, and her entire doctrine came from her thinking.  Her callous disregard for human life and the laws of war.  You cannot say she is unfit to stand trial simply because she feels threatened by every other human being in existence."

Albright let out a sigh.  "This is why I want more data before I make an official determination.  Because I cannot, in good conscience, affirm her as capable of standing trial.  Not at this time.  My answer remains unchanged."

"Understood, Doctor," said Cassel.  "And I understand your reasoning."

"So what is your decision, Lordship?"  Albright already knew the answer, but wanted to hear it spoken.

"At the end of the day, the recommendations of Admiral Sirtis and the Commission's other analysts have swayed me," Cassel said.  "The Commission will be establishing a Royal Special Tribunal and charging Malvina Hazen as a war criminal."

"I see.  May I formally state, then, that as things stand, if called to testify on the matter, I will be testifying that I do not believe her mentally fit to stand trial."  With a glance he could see he'd be alone in that; a certain exasperation was showing on Admiral Sirtis that made him think she'd already signed off on Malvina's competency.

"I wouldn't expect anything less," said Lord Cassel.  "Doctor, thank you for your participation today, and your candid remarks.  They were appreciated."

Not appreciated enough, Albright thought bitterly before departing, his welcome clearly worn out.

He returned to the ground floor, handed in the provided visitor's badge, and walked outside, this time through the main doors.  The weather had turned a little warm, enough that the snows of Christmas were long melted and left the streets clear and a little wet.  It looked like rain would come later in the day, though not so soon that it would complicate the New Year's celebrations still ongoing in Roslyn proper.

Am I being a fool? he asked himself.  Am I exaggerating Malvina's condition because I'm still trying to grasp what she is?  Or maybe I'm on a zebra hunt, that Malvina is just a psychopath who rose in a culture where might makes right, and her skills let her triumph over all adversaries?  Am I just being the soft-hearted academic unwilling to face hard truths about human evil?

He felt a gentle gust of wind blow against his face, cold enough to bite a little, but not yet bitterly cold.  It was an invigorating sensation, in some respects, and prompted him to look out at the streets leading to the Esplanade.  The restaurants there would probably be closed, or on reduced hours, but he wondered if it might not be worth a walk to see if any of the cafes or bistros were available.  A chance to think further on what he'd just said to Admiral Sirtis and Lord Cassel.  I all but threatened to testify for Hazen's defense.

Yet he couldn't bring himself to just dismiss Malvina as a psychopath.  She was one, yes, but there was more to that than just the violent upbringing nurturing a sociopath into a mass murderer.  Her remaining affection for her dead mate Aleks, for instance, was too strong to simply be a sociopath's self-serving love for things they liked.  He'd anchored her, clearly, he'd meant something profound, and his loss was a trauma that she'd never recovered from.  And the whole business with that girl, Cinthy.  I should contact her caretakers and see what her interviews have revealed.

By the time he took one of the covered footbridges over the avenue and walked onto the Esplanade, Albright's mind was drifting back to the question.  Have I lost my objectivity?  Am I so determined to solve the riddle of Malvina Hazen's mind that I've lost sight of objective fact?  Or my duty?  Hazen wants the trial.  And she's plainly suffering in her current condition, what would her life be like if my judgement were upheld and she never faced trial?  How might that damage her?

He shook his head and sighed, both at the sight of a closed bistro and the thought in his head.  As his eyes took in the welcome sight of a cafe with customers - someone was open - he resolved to let the matter go for the moment.  There's more to this.  And they're doing this for political reasons, not justice.  I will not let their rush to judicial vengeance color my judgment.  Now, for one small New Year's resolution, I will enjoy the rest of my day.

Thoughts settled, he walked toward the cafe, the smell of garlic and honey already sparking his appetite.



The Royal Palace
Roslyn, Eastern Islay



While a gentle rain pattered against the glass windows of the Palace's Grand Ballroom, an equally gentle serenade played from the band box, prompting the dancing of the attendees of the New Year's Honors Ball.

Trillian descended with certain members of her staff, joining the festivities as a royal guest.  She wore a custom gown for the occasion, fitted for her in the city, a sleeveless one-strap evening gown of glittering icy blue, a Steiner fist logo stitched into the design's strap on the left shoulder while the right shoulder was completely bare.  Her hair was carefully arranged into an elegant bun, of the like favored back on her Tharkad, and matching ice blue eyeshadow and cosmetics attenuated the color of her face.  The gown floated down to her shins, with splits on the side for ease of movement.  Heeled dress shoes - not high-heeled at least - rounded out her appearance.

The master of ceremonies announced her name and titles, as well as the presence of her entourage, as she finished descending into the ballroom.  It was a long, open chamber, flanked by tables bearing trays of finger foods and goblets.  This was no sitting state dinner but a social occasion, like many she'd seen on Tharkad.

She was greeted by the great and mighty who were in attendance.  Prince Roman Brewer-Steiner, CEO of Defiance Industries and Prince of Hesperus, offered her the appropriate kiss on the knuckles, wearing court dress not far different from the typical Brewer preferences she knew from her side of the Glass (including that damned usurper Vedet).  Prince Roman's company was less enjoyment than necessity, given his influence and the prospect of securing contracts with him for Defiance to provide war material through the Glass.

A more original experience, and preferable company, came with the distinguished Duke Edmund de Fortemps of Bondurant.  A middle-aged man with dark hair only starting to gray, he wore an elaborate gray overcoat with the insignia of a red unicorn head over his heart and a red dress shirt underneath, matched with elegant black dress trousers.  He performed the same courtly greeting as Prince Roman but with what Trillian thought of as a greater sincerity.  The same was done by the two young men with him, introduced as his sons Arthur and Emmanuel who wore similar coats.  "I have not the pleasure of meeting a member of your House," she admitted.

"I would not be certain House Fortemps has the same rank on your side of the Glass, my Lady, given we attained our title on Bondurant two hundred years ago," Duke Edmund replied.  His Star League English was impeccable.  "Our predecessors had the fortune of surviving a bitter civil conflict and gaining control of our world's network of Star League-era microwave satellites.  They were harsh men and women in taking power, I'll admit, but those were regrettably harsh times, and they relinquished some of their power in joining the Free March decades later."

"A story I've learned was replicated a thousand times over across this Inner Sphere."  She nodded.

"So it was."  He nodded politely.  "The Lord stand with you, Lady Trillian, and rest assured my representation on the Senate has been duly instructed to support your cause."

"You have my thanks, Your Grace, my thanks, that of the Archon's, and the whole of the Lyran people," she replied.

With that remark, he stepped away, sons in tow.

Bondurant is not a major world, but Duke Edmund's support may still help.  Freed from that conversation, she had a chance to take in the other little groups and conversations going on.  Lord Arnold Proctor-Steiner, her assumed bete noire, was with a collection of stiff-backed men and women that included at least one woman Trillian was certain to be a Steiner as well.  Though they were in civilian dress, she had no doubt all were AFRF, and likely senior officers.  Senior parliamentary leaders were with ever-shifting groups as well, discussing all matter of topics… and more than a few referencing her mission.

The treaty remains unfinished, given the Privy Council's continued refusal to give concrete responses to my terms and questions.  The longer it lingers, the harder it'll be to sway Parliament.

She was preparing to strike up a conversation with a senator from Giausar when the ceremonial horn blow lifted all eyes to the second level.  The chamberlain appeared and announced Nathaniel's arrival, listing his titles in precedence of rank and age.  It was the long-form today, so it included baronial holdings on Tharkad, Donegal, Skye, Bolan, Rochelle, and New Earth.  There was some quiet surprise in the room when the chamberlain finished.  Trillian's eyes swept the crowd and she noted that among the sternest looks were Lord Arnold and his people.  Something was omitted then?

Duke Edmund's voice spoke beside her.  "His Majesty is aware that the diplomatic corps is here tonight," he said, having approached during the King's introduction.  "Including Her Excellency Mandrissa Cho Ming Na, the Ambassador of Emperor Robert Halas-Liao, newly returned to her post."

"So titles to worlds held by the Capellan Empire?" she murmured back, not letting her voice carry.

"Procyon and Sirius.  Yes," he replied as softly.  "A gesture of peace.  It will be seen as weakness in some quarters, alas."

Nathaniel was in fine dinner dress of his own, a white jacket of gold trim over a blue vest and white shirt with a red necktie.  A platinum circlet with a hawk over the forehead was on his brow.  He descended with measured steps while the crowd, Trillian included, bowed or curtsied at the midway point.  His feet touched the floor, a large space around him formed by the crowd.

One by one a collection of young men and women in formal wear were brought out and introduced.  Debutantes one and all, mostly of Arcadian and other local world nobility, in their first royal occasion.  Nathaniel smiled and returned their bows with head nods and little bows of his own.  One by one the rest of the crowd paid him homage, Trillian included, and he accepted it.

She found herself comparing the occasion to similar ones on Tharkad.  It was an intriguing combination of similarities and differences.  The High King's arrival and presentation of the debutantes had a certain gravity not seen on Tharkad, but the stuffiness of the Lyran court was not present here, as attendees returned to quiet conversation and mingling as soon as they'd made their proper homage to the royal personage.  There was no sorting by noble title or lack thereof, or the same deferences shown by rank and privilege, and even Nathaniel was quickly intermingling as if he were just another invitee.

After enjoying a small fruit jam pastry and some conversation with Lord John Cunningham, the Federated Suns' ambassador to the Arcadian court, Trillian finally found her opening to approach Nathaniel.  He had his Royal Secretary and wife-to-be, Lady Sophia Marik, on his arm now, dressed in a full-sleeved dinner gown of white and purple with a Marik eagle where Trillian displayed the Steiner fist.  "Lady Trillian," she said, drawing Nathaniel's attention.  "I hope you have enjoyed yourself this evening."

"I have.  It's been a productive night, to be sure."

Nathaniel grinned at that.  Undoubtedly he was well aware she was mixing business with pleasure, expanding her contacts and promoting her cause to his subordinate nobles and other powers in the Federation.  "These gatherings are rarely for leisure only, that much I learned from a young age."

"It is the same in the Royal Court on Tharkad, my Tharkad."  She made the correction quickly.  "I've noticed Prince Peter is not attending.  Is he well?"

"As well as might be expected, but his husband's current condition didn't allow for him to attend," Nathaniel answered.  "So he is attending to Lord Kevin."

"I see.  I shall have to hope for the best, then."

"Sometimes that is all we can do," Sophia remarked.  "Have you any further word of developments from your side of the Glass?"

"Not yet," Trillian lamented.  "Though given distances, any renewal of the Wolves' attacks would not reach us yet.  Not for weeks more, at least.  There's no word of new Falcon attacks, at least, so we have breathing room on that front.  Though how much, I am not sure."

"I am still working Parliament on the matter of your proposed treaty, as I am sure you are," Nathaniel replied.  "I hope the loan has at least done well?"

"It has," she said, not adding it was already depleted.  From both surplus stores and military contractors she'd bought enough material to outfit an LCT or two, maybe even the better part of an RCT, and a couple surplus picket DropShips that on her side would be called Pocket WarShips, and furthermore arranged for a couple mercenary hires beyond the Brotherhood.  Yet it will take months for us to get those units, weapons and ships in place, not to mention the trained soldiers for the machines.  What I need, what the Commonwealth truly needs, is that treaty, and Arcadian troops fighting the Clans.

"With the Parliament resuming sessions I hope to get their support for a supplementary budget," said Nathaniel.  "I am completely committed to seeing this alliance formed.  Your side of the Glass must be secured, the Commonwealth saved from dissolution, and these Clans stopped."

"I'm grateful you are already our ally in spirit," she answered, truthfully.  If only we could get the rest of your court to agree.

The chamberlain came up and whispered in Nathaniel's ear.  Trillian noted with concern that the expression on his face froze.  "I see.  Tell Admiral Stewart I'm on my way, and have everyone gather in the audience chamber."

As the crisply-attired man departed to implement the instructions, Trillian asked, "Has something happened?"

"Yes.  I must go see the Admiral before the Honors ceremony begins."

Something was wrong, that much was certain.  Trillian couldn't decide what was worse; that his people were under attack from a neighbor, and what that would mean for her cause, or that the news was from her side of the Glass.

Her concern was evident enough that Nathaniel stopped and, after a moment's consideration, lowered his voice.  "I would ordinarily have waited, but… you should know."  He leaned close and barely spoke above a whisper.  "Die Falken greifen Timkovichi."

"Gott im Himmel," was all she could manage in reply.

[Steve]

28 - Meeting the Enemy


Field Base Carroll
Near Cirenholm
Timkovichi, Coventry Province
Lyran Commonwealth
4 January 3143


Major General Labh Khan Singh took swift, measured steps into the Field Base's Command Operations Theater, joined by his chief of staff Brigadier Jamal Huston, his aide-de-camp Colonel Harold Smith, and the planet's governing regent, Duchess Katarina.  Already there and waiting were Nadia Allard - in field dress; she’d drawn the duty CO slot - Jacob Tanhause, and the commanders of the pair of mercenary units that - hired out of the Kell estate, or so he’d been told - had been first to arrive; Force Commander Jesminder Harcourt, a compact fireplug of a woman with dark skin and red-blonde hair, her muscular forearms thick with tattoos and the stark pink-white of a slave brand burned across half her face - commanding Metal Fire, a battalion of tanks and battlesuited infantry - and Lieutenant Colonel Darren Huyten, with the pale complexion and lanky height of a native Martian, the CO of the Lucky Stars, an all arms battalion.

In a group the rest of his commanders arrived.  The 2nd Royal Cuirassiers' XO and commander of the BattleMech regiment, Brigadier Maxine Shawcross, was a short, broad-shouldered woman from Ford, pearl-complexioned with striking green eyes, and a veteran MechWarrior.  Brigadier Sir Seamus O'Malley was Donegal-born, a dark-haired freckle-faced tank driver in charge of the two armored regiments and the attached battalions of aviation and artillery vehicles.  Brigadier Mark Ottman was from the Alarion March, with a light bronze complexion topped with wheat-colored hair graying at the fringes, an infantry ranger officer by profession.  Air Commodore Yvonne Weiss was sunburnt red, common for residents from Vaj, and commanded the Cuirassiers' aerospace and air support groups.  Like Singh, each and every one of them was a battle-tried veteran and survivor of the 4th Succession War.  Rather, their Inner Sphere's 4th Succession War, waged eighty years after the one this universe knew, and a wider conflict by far.

"We've received updates from the observation sats out past Starkovich," Nadia said, motioning to the holotank.  Multiple shapes were displayed in three-dimensional blue-shifted light tinged with red.  Singh didn't recognize the specifics but he could tell what they were: WarShips, accompanied by both aerodyne and spheroid DropShips.  Plumes of light lit up the aft of each vessel; they were under thrust.  "It's given us a chance for a more accurate count of their force, and it's not good news.  That's five WarShips, two each of battle and heavy cruisers and a frigate, plus PWS support; all of their fleet less Turkina's Pride, and our last report was that she's at Butler in the middle of a major refit.  I don't think I need to go into detail to say your cruiser's no match for that kind of force."

Singh nodded stiffly.  His hand settled upon the hilt of his kirpan unconsciously, as if to seek strength from it.  "Did you send word through the Glass?"

"Just got the drone back.  There's a Commodore Klauze on the other end, but the Ghastillian squadron's got nothing larger than your ship already here, and they're under orders not to engage odds like this."

Most of those in earshot were paling, most of all Duchess Katarina, who looked like she might die right there.  "Evacuation's ready to go at a moment's order," Huston said.  "We could likely get all the combatants through the Glass before they arrive, if you don't want to risk a bombardment."

"How much would we have to leave behind?" Singh asked, knowing the answer wouldn't be what he wanted to hear.

"To ensure we get all the personnel out in time, at least twenty-five percent of our gear will likely be left behind for lack of proper time to stow it," replied Shawcross.  "This also accounts for the base personnel, the Armored Guard's folks, and Her Grace's family."

"We can't cut much off that, I'm afraid," Huyten weighed in, punching numbers into his noteputer. "Our DropShips aren't set up for major personnel lifts, and some of the ones that are, we need here for fire support if the evac's not done in time."

"Assuming the Falcons don't bomb us to death from high orbit,"  Harcourt added with dry cynicism.

Singh glowered at the image and the anger he felt in his heart.  Cutting and running from this rebuilding planet felt like an offense, against the honor of his service and the Federation and House Proctor, but to stay invited death.  There was no honor won in dying helplessly to enemy orbital bombardment.  He glanced in Weiss' direction.  "If it comes to the final extremity, can your pilots hit their ships with atomics?"

The room grew cold at the remark.  While the Succession Wars went differently in their respective histories, both versions of the Inner Sphere nevertheless developed a similar aversion to such firepower and devastation.  Indeed, on Singh's side, not even the Terrans in their final hours stooped to using atomics to stop the Successor States, nor did any use them even in their most dire hours of the 4th Succession War, when everyone's armies were on the verge of breakdown.

"We could try," Weiss said.  "But honestly, it'll be Sirius in '23 all over again, given how many fighters that fleet's got to have, plus whatever their DropShips are capable of."

Singh blanched at the reference to the failed fight on Sirius.  He hadn't been there, but Weiss had, he recalled, where the Oriento-Capellan Empire's aerospace regiments proved more numerous than estimated and reaved over half of the Federation's present aerospace fighters, as well as an armored cruiser and two destroyers, in a single action.

"Us and the Lyran navy have been looking at it for a last ditch option," Nadia offered, "but they've got heavy fighter cover, and a lot of those blasted NL-45 gunships. Against the numbers that fleet could bring to the table, I don't think we can do it. And it's a bit late to call in more carrier support from Coventry or Arc-Royal."

"Nor will the Sara Proctor be returning quickly enough, given how far they are.  Very well.  Your Grace."  Singh nodded to Katarina.  "Unless these Falcons prove willing to bid away their WarShips, I cannot in good conscience keep these troops on Timkovichi.  Their deaths would gain no tangible result, and the bombardments would undoubtedly harm your world as well  As stated, we can take you to sanctuary until such a time as we can manage the naval forces for a counter attack through the Glass."

"My family cannot abandon our people, General Singh, though we are thankful for your gracious offer."

"What are the odds the Falcons would agree to a straight up fight, no naval support?" Ottman asked.  "They're not all blood-crazy bastards, right?"

"We'd need to know who their commander is," Nadia commented, looking at the holoprojection thoughtfully, "But it's been known to work, and, under the circumstances,  I can't say we've got anything going to lose by trying a formal batchall. Even if it fails, at least we know what we're up against, and if it works then maybe we can hold out long enough for backup to arrive."

"Then make all due preparations for the evacuation, and we shall see what comes."

Salutes and nods answered him, followed by the impromptu departure of most of the commanders.  "We could really use that battlewagon your people arrived in," Nadia commented, remaining at her post.

"Unfortunately, keeping a Battle Fleet stationed five jumps from Sudeten was not acceptable to my superiors, not with how it would disrupt the Concert," Singh sighed.  "So we must do as we can, and trust in the One God that it will work out."



CJFS White Aerie
6 January 3143


The Cluster commanders of Delta Galaxy, enlarged as it was, attended Stephanie in the command theater on the White Aerie.  They were forty-eight hours out from Timkovichi and close enough, now, to have a proper real-time conversation; close enough, that is, to perform the appropriate batchall.  When the indicator lights showed green, confirming her voice and image were being transmitted, she spoke in proud, firm tones.  "I am Galaxy Commander Stephanie Chistu of the Jade Falcons.  My Delta Galaxy comes to claim this world.  Who would resist our talons?"

They were far enough out that the delay in reply was at least a minute.  Finally an image showed on the screen, depicting a bearded man in a predominately red uniform jacket.  He wore a wrapping on his head, a turban by Stephanie's recollection, and she noted a dagger hilt visible at his belt at the image cutoff line.  He wore a number of colored ribbons in the style of Spheroid uniforms that acted as a sort of poor counterpart to a Clan warrior's codex, each ribbon speaking of a different campaign or award.  "I am Major General Labh Khan Singh of the Armed Forces of the Royal Federation, Commanding Officer of the 2nd Royal Cuirassiers Regimental Combat Team, and acting commander of planetary defense.  We have been briefed on your customs so I have prepared a listing of those forces we have for the defense of Timkovichi.  It is transmitting now."

Beside his image, the listing appeared, reflecting the defenders down to at least battalion level.  They use four battalions instead of three in their regiments.  They are somewhat smaller than the RCTs employed by the Lyrans and Davions, even so.  I see one regiment of 'Mechs, two regiments worth of armor, four of infantry, and slightly less than two Trinaries each of aerospace fighters and air-breathing atmospheric fighters.  Her eyes went further down the listing.  The planet has mercenary support as well, I see, plus the surviving defenders and a small contingent of Kell Hounds.  Yes, it is fortunate I insisted on forces from Morges after all.  The cutdown is going to be quite high.

Her eyes swept over to the fleet listing.  Admiral Crichell's people already identified the one WarShip, a heavy frigate now identified by the Arcadians as a "light cruiser", and spoke of more frigates and destroyers that awaited on the other side of the anomaly.  DropShips and fighter wings showed as well.  Her forces were yet superior, given the White Aerie and her sister ship the Jade Aerie were present, and even if not, the Jade Talon and Blue Talon were still greater in strength.  But some of these vessels were listed as "missile boats" or "picket support", and to her that implied capital missile armament like some of the Republic's ships.  Enough that, even in defeat, the enemy naval forces might inflict damage, even loss, on her WarShips.  Our means of repairing ships remain too limited, and if our ships are damaged too greatly, it will leave us without any naval backup on any front.

That thought was sour enough.  She also considered what it might mean if the enemy chose to simply withdraw before she arrived, to avoid a repeat of Malvina's dezgra tactics from the prior strike on Timkovichi.  She needed a battlefield victory, not an easy unopposed conquest, as the latter would be too much a Mongol victory for her or the others' liking.

Yet to bid away the WarShips too early would be too much.  No, she needed a reason, something to justify it…

"I would make an offer, Khan Chistu.  Not one I make lightly, but duty compels me."

Curious, she nodded.  "Go ahead."

Half a minute passed, giving her a chance to note the hungry look on Star Colonel Isaac's face, and on the other Mongol commanders around her.  Finally the offer transmitted.  "I would be willing to face your forces, mighty as they are, in ground combat, but only if your WarShips remain beyond orbital bombardment range."

Isaac sneered at that.  "Why would we give away such an advantage?" he asked openly, ignoring her glare.  "Especially since it would invite your aerospace fighters to intercept our ships during landing."

The eventual response came.  "Because I am more than willing to employ any means I might to protect my troops from a repeated attempt at bombardment.  And because, in accordance with Clan custom, I will grant safcon if you do not bid your WarShips."

Stephanie muted the response this time before Isaac could speak.  "This is foolishness.  We brought these vessels should they still have their mighty battleship.  They do not.  If they will not surrender to our might, destroy them for the affront.  That is the Mongol Way."

"Until her failure here, even your Chingis Khan did not turn to such tactics at first blow," Stephanie reminded him coldly.  "Nor is it the Clan way to destroy warriors from space to avoid a Trial.  Or are you a coward underneath that bravado, Star Colonel?"  She grinned at him.  "Perhaps I will bid away the 9th Talon, then, if their commander is so fearful of the fray."

Isaac's nostrils flared.  "I fear nothing.  It is you who quakes in fear, fear to take the necessary path to our Clan's greatness and final victory!  You would waste warriors in battle to win the Khanship rather than secure our Clan's victory with the superior way!"

"So you challenge me, Star Colonel?  Finally?  Shall we meet in a Circle of Equals then?"  She moved about the holotank to stare him down.  "Admiral Crichell may serve as our Oathmaster."

His eyes locked onto hers with fury, but behind it, she saw calculation.  Her reputation as a MechWarrior was long-established, and her codex had a share of victories worthy of her candidacy to replace Malvina Hazen.  He was accomplished, but against her, he would be at a disadvantage.  So would he put everything on the line, whatever ambitions he held, or sway over those warriors whose faith in the Mongol Doctrine was fading with Malvina's loss, to face her now?

The silence between them lasted another ten seconds before his eyes tightened.  "You are my superior.  I disagree with your methods, but I will obey your orders, so long as they are of benefit to the Clan."

"I would expect no less," she said in firm reply.  "My decision is made.  Let us test the Arcadians' mettle in battle.  It will be a chance for real glory in this campaign instead of facing an overwhelmed and broken foe."  Returning to her prior place, she unmuted the comm and faced General Singh.  "We will accept safcon and leave the WarShips out of this Trial so long as your WarShips and naval forces keep their distance from our vessels and the anomaly.  Nor will you bring reinforcements through the anomaly; we will seize or destroy any vessel that comes through.  These are my terms, and I will not negotiate them.  Aff or Neg, General?"

She suspected the silence that came was not just from the delay.  It took nearly a minute before the reply "I accept" came over the speaker.

"Bargained well and done.  In two days we commence the battle for Timkovichi.  Our bid force and chosen landing site will be transmitted to you by then.  White Aerie out."  A second key ended the communication.  "These Arcadians wish to face our fury, and now they shall, without the benefit of surprise as they enjoyed before.  We will analyze the data and provide the formal cutdowns to you by tomorrow, when I will accept bids for which Cluster gets the right of the first engagement past our LZs. The day after, we land, and claim this world for the Clan."

She received nods and salutes, though those from her "borrowed" Mongol Clusters were perfunctory only.  They will not bid honestly, I think, for their lack of appreciation of our customs.  It may put greater strain on my loyal Clusters in the opening engagements.  But it will give Delta Galaxy the fight it has earned.  And I will see that Star Colonel Roshak and his ilk do not shirk their duties in this fight.



Field Base Carroll


General Singh watched the image of the stocky, muscular woman blink away.  That of Captain Hanson on his ship did not.  "We would have made them earn it, General," Hanson said.  "Are you sure about this?"

"I will not throw lives away needlessly, nor have our forces face the ignominy of fleeing," Singh answered.  "We came to protect these people, and we will, to our last if need be."

"My orders?"

"Take up a position equally distant from the planet.  Stay in contact with Captain Winters and General Bridger.  Their part in this is not yet done, I think."

"You sure about this, General?" asked Shawcross.  "She made it awfully clear she'll consider the term broken if we get reinforcements."

"Reinforcements through the Glass, yes.  The 8th Strikers and Kell Hounds are already here."  Singh smiled bitterly.  "Besides, I think that deep down, she, and definitely Malvina Hazen's followers in her ranks, want to fight the Strikers, since they're the ones who brought Malvina down.  It may be our last card should we be unable to hold.  Though either way, I fully intend to make the Falcons bleed win or lose, and we are in this to win.  The 2nd Royal Cuirassiers have been bloodied and battered in our century of service to House Proctor's Federation, but we have yet to be beaten, and that is a record I expect us to keep intact."

"Victory or death it is, then.  Just like Buckminster," Brigadier O'Malley vowed, a vicious grin on his face.  "Th' Dracs learned th' 2nd's mettle in those days, an' th' Falcons will learn th' same lesson."

[Steve]

29 - Hostile Contact


Outside Karten, Sanfeld River Basin
Timkovichi, Coventry Province
Lyran Commonwealth
8 January 3143


The Sanfeld River was one of the oldest rivers, geologically, on Timkovichi.  Estimates were that it and the associated rains of the climate had long worn what were once mountains into sloping hills, and low hills at that.  It left the soil lush and fertile as well, turning the basin into a natural breadbasket for Timkovichi.

The farmhouses that dotted the landscape about the small town of Karten were not in the business they were built for, however.  Their residents were gone, evacuated to the displacement camps that were still housing the grieving survivors of Cirenholm, as was Karten's population.  The only resident left was with the Timkovichi 24th Infantry Battalion, a surviving formation of the planetary guard currently positioned on the flank of the Timkovichi Armored Guards.

At the outskirts of Karten, a plowed field's irrigation channels created natural berms for the tanks that now sat quietly in preparation.  The Armored Guards' remaining tanks were mostly older models, survivors of the Succession Wars and the Jihad, but bolstered by a few machines salvaged from the Hell's Horses.  Those present were all lighter models, all the better to beat the fighting retreat that was expected to be necessary.  A single BattleMech - a salvaged Black Lanner hurriedly repainted in the Armored Guard’s pale blue and gray colours - stood among them as well.

The Arcadian tanks looked newer, though some bore old scars of their own.  But whatever scars they might have, there was no mistaking them for militia models.  TharDef's AFV-26 Rhino tanks were OmniVehicles, in mixed configurations for mutual support.  Most had missile launchers of some type affixed to their turrets, joined by a large cannon, a mixture of Gauss Rifles and heavy autocannons or PPCs, and anti-infantry weapons set into the sides and front.  They were among the more advanced tanks in the arsenal of the Royal Federation, powered by extra-light fusion engines that made them costly in comparison to the local forces they were forward positioned with, but allowing them to pack their weaponry, be fully armored, and still achieve a 64km/h flank speed.

Captain Marilyn Nagawa — Able Company, 2nd Battalion of the 23rd Royal Armored Regiment — poked her head from the turret of the Rhino she was riding.  It was configured with a Vickers-Armstrong Mk. 8 PPC as the main gun with a twelve-salvo Variable Charge Tactical Missile launcher - the equivalent to the locals' ATM launchers - mounted above and behind the turret's main hatch, all tied into a fire control computer system that worked the gun's elevation automatically for precision targeting.  The tank beside hers, belonging to Lieutenant Victor Neuworth as her company XO, was the only one configured with a dual-gun turret, mounting a Gauss Rifle along the centerline and another Mark 8 to the right, giving it more direct punch.  He flashed her a grin and a thumb's up while adjusting his cooling vest.  She returned the gesture.

A voice crackled over the radios.  "Forward observation's reporting more movement in the LZs.  Looks like the Falcons are forming up to push."  She didn't place it, presuming it to be one of Tanhause's people or maybe a battle armor scouting party from the 16th Royal Air Cavalry Regiment.  "They're not even waiting to finish their landings."

Tanhause's voice crackled over the radio.  "Pull back as needed".  He was in tactical command of their "kampfgruppe" of mechanized infantry and armor.  A short ways behind them the 2nd Royal's 3rd 'Mech Battalion was already taking position to meet any sudden enemy aggression, but they'd face the fire first.  "Arcadian forces, don't worry about ritual here.  That's over.  When the Falcons come they'll be moving fast and hard. And keep a close eye on your warbooks; stay clear of anything packing plasma cannon."

"Roger.  We'll give them a warm greeting," Nagawa promised.  She dropped back into her chair in the turret, placing her beside Lance Corporal Earl Danning, her tank's primary gunner.  She waved him off and closed the hatch before reaching for her radio controls, which she switched to the company command channel.  "This is Two-Able One.  Look alive, everyone.  Expect hostile contacts any moment, and we are weapons free."

"Hurry up and wait time," Danning said, grinning viciously.  He'd only had one fight before, she recalled, the guerrillas on Kelenfold, and they'd mostly provided distant direct fire support to the infantry sweeping the camp up.  The grin was as much bravado as it was genuine eagerness.

It was an eagerness she shared.  Better to get the fighting started and not dwell on the waiting.

A voice rang up from below, that of Private Marielou St. Michel, in a twang from Stardawn over in Alarion March.  "Scopes lighting up.  Target-rich environment, hoss!"

"Driver, ready for reverse.  Secondary Gunner, keep an eye for battle armor, the Clans will be sending that after us going by what the locals say.  Corporal."  She nodded to Danning.  "Fire for effect, biggest targets."

"Yes sir!"  He put his eye to the scope and readied his twin firing controls.  Down below Private St. Michel would be operating by remote the eight machine guns fitted to the AFV-26's sides, rear, and frontal plate, should enemy infantry approach, and Private Hakeem al-Aswari would be ready to maneuver the tank as needed.

Ten seconds later Nagawa could feel the heat surge in the turret.  The capacitors came alive with their stored power and sent a bolt of plasma through the air.  She activated her own scope and noted that Danning, with his computerized help, had managed a direct torso hit on an oncoming enemy 'Mech, a chicken-legged machine that spat laser fire in their general direction.  One hit grazed their turret and melted some armor, but their hull-down position allowed them safety from the worst of it.  A series of muffled booms told her the missile launcher had likewise fired, sending twelve multi-stage missiles towards the Falcon 'Mech.  Half the salvo struck, chipping away armor, though only one made good on the wound carved by their main gun.

The Falcons moved forward with 'Mechs exclusively, some visibly carrying battle armor infantry on their shoulders and heads.  Missiles ripple-fired into the air, filling the sky before crashing down around Nagawa and her company.  Her tank's armor held from the impacts they took, with some strength damage.  "Firing!" Danning called out, and again a surge of heat filled the turret.  She watched this bolt crash into the shoulder and wing of a tall roughly-humanoid 'Mech.

Her heart skipped a beat at the loud hammerblow that reverberated through the turret.  The screens showed the reason; they'd taken a direct hit from a Clan Gauss Rifle that the armor managed to hold back, though at cost of significant surface material.

A glance at the scopes confirmed the matter.  The 'Mechs were close enough that, with their height, the irrigation channels and prepared berms were no longer as effective as cover.  More to the point, the Falcons had serious numbers coming their way.  "Driver, prepare for backup and turn," she said, before repeating the order to the entire company.  But she didn't give the actual retreat order, not yet; their orders were to hold as long as possible.  Retreating too early would be as dangerous as waiting too long.

"All vehicles pull back," Tanhause ordered.  "They're coming on the flanks!"

Nagawa's stomach dropped at that.  This many enemies, all at once?  This wasn't just some clearing of the Falcon LZ, they were beginning their push now. How insane are these people?  They can't have unloaded much yet, they're going for an offensive now?!  "Able Company, pull back to second line!" she ordered.  The Rhino vibrated from the power shifting from its fusion engine to the transmission, sending the treads into motion.  The vibration was drowned out by another loud bang and echo, a direct hit from another Gauss round, this time on their glacis plate.  Yet the armor held again, while more missiles came down around them.  A laser stabbed the air just over the scope, lightly grazing the Rhino turret.

"Laser hit on missile launcher," said Corporal Awilo Longomba, the vehicle engineer and second-in-command.  "Looks like a glancing shot, tubes are intact and weapon's still loading."

Nagawa felt the thunderous vibration of the multi-stage missiles firing yet again.  It was still the long range missiles being used.  Al-Aswari turned the tank while Danning kept the turret facing towards the foe.  The PPC fired yet again.  She was pleased to see it tear through the reversed knee joint of a chicken-legged 'Mech in emerald, slowing the machine to a limp.

"Two-Able Eight here, we just took a track hit while turning, speed's impaired."  The voice was one of her sergeants, Julian Kalonji.

The voice of Lieutenant Ludwig von Holst, one of her lance commanders, beat her to the punch.  "Abandon if you have to, we'll—"

A brief roar drowned out von Holst's voice in the split second before the line cut.  Nagawa's gut clenched in the moment before noting that Two-Able Five disappeared from her small tactical screen.

"Looks like a direct penetrating hit on the Lieutenant's machine.  There's one survivor crawling free," another voice said.  "Moving to pick up if possible."

"Negative on that," Nagawa ordered, hating herself for it.  "They're coming too fast.  Keep falling back."

"But-"

"That is an order, Sergeant."  God forgive me for giving it.  But I won't lose five more to save one.

"We've got 'er," another, unfamiliar voice said, and it took Nagawa a second to process that it was one of Tannhause's people.  "Just give us the cover fire we need."

"You've got it," she replied, grateful for the effort.  A closer inspection of the tactical picture confirmed the Falcons were already fully on their flanks.  They'd be doomed save the Falcons seemed more interested in pushing ahead.  They might try to surround us. I hope those 'Mechs get here soon…




With her troops landing, Stephanie transferred from White Aerie to the DropShip Silverwing and joined the initial landing.  Delta's core Clusters were going first, having won the bidding by margins of individual Stars given the Mongol commanders like Isaac refused to even budge on their bids.  It was another dissatisfying reminder of how far from the Honor Road Malvina Hazen brought the Clan, and how important it was that she win this battle and set the Falcons back on the path of Kerensky.

The holotank in the Silverwing's command center displayed a tactical overview of the unfolding battle.  Star Colonel Lisa Hazen was living up to her expectations, pushing the 53rd Talon Cluster forward aggressively against the enemy's defense line and already had their forward position outflanked.  A swift campaign is precisely what I wish.  The sooner I break these Arcadians, the more quickly I can get back to Sudeten and consolidate with Beckett.

That would likely have to include some re-assignments, of course, and even some Trials of Grievance to deal with the most aggressive, vicious Mongols.  She had half a mind to send them to the Reach, or the borders with the Bears, but only if it didn't prejudice the Clan's readiness to continue their campaign, or defend what they'd conquered.

This battle may just be the beginning, she thought.  They still knew so little about the other side after all, and what kind of force was present there.  We know they have more ships, but how many more?  How great are their armies?  What kind of foe are we dealing with?  Is an offensive even feasible if these Arcadians come through in strength, and we cannot find a way to block the anomaly?  We can't keep our WarShips here forever.

"My Khan."  The voice of her adjutant, Star Captain Hannibal, prompted her head to rise.  The unblooded Elemental warrior, of the Icaza Bloodhouse, kept his spine straight while towering over her.  "The other Clusters are ready to advance as well, as soon as you are prepared."

"The 53rd Talon won the bidding, so they shall be given more time to win glory before we press everything.  Have those clusters ready to advance at my notice."  Her eyes drifted back to the holotank.  The lead enemy tank unit was already showing several casualties even if they weren't being pressed on the flanks.  They were falling back regardless.  Perhaps I should intercede and give the order to cut them off… but no, I must show faith in my subordinates.  Let them win their share of glory as well.  This may be the most important battle of our lives, and there will be plenty of glory for all before it is done.



Riding in the turret basket of a lightweight Fox scout vehicle was, Jacob Tanhause had to acknowledge, a very different experience to the ride of an assault tank.

And, he added silently, sweeping the turret scopes for a target, it’s one I’d have been happy to forgo.But he needed to see what was happening, and the Fox’s comms and sensors were the best the Armoured Guard had.

“Got one, boss-man!” That was PFC Jacqui Wilks at the com/scan board, faint strains of thumping crash music coming from the earbud she wasn’t wearing to accommodate her headset. “Eyrie at one-three-one, just inside reach for the new med beamer.”

Jacob slewed the turret to that bearing, ignoring the informality and thanking the Kell Hound techs who’d replaced the standard ER medium laser with a Clan-spec model. There; the tall, lanky shape of the light ‘Mech, its stubby missile pod-arms framing the beak-like cockpit module. Off-white smoke swallowed it for a moment as it lofted a missile salvo; and Jacob double-checked his firing solution.

“Check readiness,” he called down, “we’re only going to get one shot at this.” The tac feeds showed that clearly; their line starting to bend back under Falcon pressure.

Corporal Cal Lopis - the usual vehicle commander - didn’t answer in words, just the whine of the Fox’s drive fans as he spun them up, ready to slide along the irrigation ditch they were hull-down in.

“All Echo-Four elements,” Wilks called over the lance net, “boss-man wants to know none of you’ve sloped off for a smoke.”

“Four-Four here, Jacks. Tried that before; got wet.” Less irreverent acknowledgements came back from the other two vehicles. Jacob breathed out at that, slowly and calmly.

“Echo Four-Two and Four-Three, engage,” he ordered, squeezing the firing stud. A beam of cyan light slashed a semi-molten across the Eyrie’s torso, long-range missiles and light-calibre autocannon shells from the pair of Condors raining down around its legs. Plumes of earth and water, and shards of armour, scattered away from the Falcon machine, It hunched down for a moment, the MechWarrior inside fighting to keep its footing. Then it steadied, set itself, and charged, jump jets igniting and lifting it forward.

Exactly what we wanted. “Boot it, now!” Jacob called, pulling the safety straps tighter and bracing himself as things started to happen very fast indeed.

The Fox slid sideways, Jacob’s gut feeling the unsettling cast of the motion as he slewed the turret around; the Eyrie crashed down where they’d been - agile on the ground, in the air it manoeuvred like bricks didn’t. It loomed overhead like an avatar of death, light-gauge pulse lasers flashing water into steam as its fire  - interlaced with the cyan bolts of the Fox’s own pulse lasers - chased them.

Then Echo Four-Four unmasked.

Sliding out of a side channel, molten armour splattered from the Eyrie’s pulse lasers clipping the Destroyer’s armoured hull and lift skirts as it interposed itself between the Fox and the Falcon’s gunnery. In response, the Destroyer’s autocannon roared, firing at maximum rate; twelve-centimetre shells ripping both the Eyrie’s legs away in midthigh. The torso crashed facedown into the channel, wedged tightly enough it couldn’t adjust its missile pods, or even try to free itself.

“Good kill, good kill!” Four-Four’s commander yelled, strafing burst of machine-gun fire across the Eyrie’s cockpit module.

“Okay people, let’s get out of here before that idiot’s heavy backup gets in reach,” Jacob ordered, seeing the blue-gold icons of Arcadian ‘Mechs moving up on the tac display for their part of playing matador. “We’re not fighting it out here; just trying to bloody their noses.”




Singh watched the holographic indicators of the battle with quiet thoughtfulness.  The icons were simple boxes, marked to represent companies of vehicles or 'Mechs or infantry soldiers, but each was made up of dozens of living, breathing human beings, many of whom would not be doing either things when the day ended.

A quarter of a century ago, it'd been him out there, piloting a Leopard in the Giausar Rangers, then moving up to a Fusilier in the Royal Giausar Rifles, 2nd Free March Cavalry.  He would still dream of the carnage he and his comrades faced, fighting the 7th Galedon Regulars on Shionoha, having to flee Cebalrai when the Galedonian reinforcements arrived and their broken brigade could do nothing but run with DropShips encumbered by refugees fleeing whatever the Kuritanizing Galedonians had in store for them.  He envied the 2nd Royal Cuirassiers their "never beaten" record, and could only pray it would not be broken under his command.

Now, he'd have different nightmares.  Of all the thousands of his men and women who were going to die in the coming weeks, just like the comrades he'd lost.

The 3rd Battalion engaged the advancing Falcon 53rd Talon with practiced efficiency.  Lieutenant Colonel Dempsey was in the field directly, commanding from her Chieftain Assault OmniMech, and by reports already engaged in bringing fire down while directing the fire companies of the 3rd on the enemy unit pressing against them.  Tanhause's kampfgruppe fell back under their support, their losses real but manageable.

"Giving them a quick sock to the nose might just do the job," Huston said.  "Especially if they're not used to fighting equals."

"More likely it'll just excite them," Nadia answered.  "Delta Galaxy's been sitting things out so far, this is their chance for a real scrap.  And odds are Galaxy Commander Chistu's going to push them hard to roll us over, she's a strong candidate for Khan by our intel."

Singh nodded but said nothing, his attention entirely on the holotank's display.  One of Weiss's squadrons, a full twelve Thunderstrike close support fusion-powered strike aerofighters, appeared at the edge and engaged.  Their icon blipped rapidly until they finished their attack runs and fell back.  Numbers flashed over the icon to confirm their losses; four of twelve fighters were destroyed by enemy anti-air and five heavily damaged.  I hope their efforts made the loss worth it.

The lights continued their movements, peaceful flashes of color compared to the violence of modern combat that they represented, while minutes passed like hours.  He felt a hope he didn't want to feel, that they could repulse this strike, lock the Falcons down, bloody them and buy time for the Ghastillian and Arcadian fleets to arrive and throw the Falcon WarShips back.

Shawcross spoke up with a grim tone.  "Sir, positive identification from the reconnaissance lances, more enemy forces are pushing from the LZ.  It looks like they're coming up on the 3rd's flanks."

So much for that thought.  Singh nodded.  "Have Dempsey pull back, then.  Task the reserve battle groups to support them on their flanks as they maneuver to the rear."

"Yes, General," he said, undoubtedly having already arranged the order for execution.

So the battle begins, and already we must retreat.  How long might we hold this world against the enemy's strength?  I pray that our superiors do not make us find out.

[Steve]

30 - Ante Up


Beta Galaxy Headquarters
Gallery, Donegal Province (Disputed)
Lyran Commonwealth/Wolf Empire
3 January 3143


The drive plumes of Seth Ward's Alpha Galaxy were little more than bright stars in the night sky over Katrina Steiner-Davion's head.  Already more clouds were gathering on the horizon, signaling the return of the storms that constantly scoured Gallery's surface.  She watched them go with frustration and trepidation.  Though they would accomplish what she longed to see—the further humiliation of the Lyran people who failed her eighty years ago—her own plans and desires were yet in jeopardy.

"He means to leave you to rot."  She turned to face her son Alaric with a frown.  "All of this rot about Beta Galaxy needing refit is to keep you from the glory of Tharkad, and sidelined as a rival."

Alaric nodded.  As usual he was keeping a poker face around her.  She'd taught him to do that with others, and it annoyed her that he was so good at it even with her.  What goes on in that mind of yours, Alaric?  You've inherited my brilliance and Vlad's, so I'm not worried you'll turn out like my naive, idiotic, too-trusting failure of an older brother, may his corpse continue to rot. But I can't advise you if you don't open up to me.  She felt her usual hatred against Victor fester still within her soul, even if he was ten years dead.  He'd taken everything from her and that hatred would never go away.

Alaric leaned against the railing at the side of the prefab structure's ceiling.  The technicians and workers, a combination of those few Wolf civilians they'd successfully recovered and conscripted workers from the Marik and Lyran worlds they'd conquered, had done well in storm-proofing the command center, as the planet's underground cities were still holding out and every square centimeter of captured tunnel was better used to shield the more combustible supplies and ammunition from Gallery's infamous lightning storms.  "He fears me."  Alaric's expression shifted to a wolfish smile that reminded her of Vlad.  "He is right to."

"And yet he has sidelined you quite effectively, leaving you here to struggle in these tunnels and watch supplies while he charges for Tharkad.  Once he has the glory of that conquest, he will not fear you any longer."

"I am well aware of that, and it is why I have made preparations."

"Preparations?  Of what sort?"  Katrina narrowed her eyes.  The possibilities flipped through her mind.  "You cannot mean to sabotage him.  If you were discovered—"

"Please, Mother.  I am not a fool."  Alaric gestured towards the window.  "Nor is Seth Ward.  He has two reasons for leaving me here.  One is to keep me from glory.  The other is because we lack the ships to hold sufficient supplies until Thuban is subdued, so Gallery must be our supply dump if we are to keep the Khan's time table to land on Tharkad no later than the end of April."

"So I noticed."  She crossed her arms.  "And I believe I understand.  You think the Lyrans will strike here."

"Some, may, a few still have courage.  But I believe that we will face the only enemy worth fighting on this front."

"Anastasia Kerensky.  You believe her Wolf Hunters will come."

"Seth Ward believes she will strike at him at Smolnik or Thuban.  But he does not understand her like I do.  She knows that to fight him on either planet will only waste away her best troops.  She will come for our weakest point.  The point where she might do the most damage to our efforts.  She will come here."

"You are awfully confident in her intelligence assets, my son."  The moment she spoke those words, Katrina gripped what Alaric meant.  "Oh.  I see.  You play a dangerous game, Alaric.  She has bested you before, and if you lose again, if you lose these supplies, Seth Ward will not hesitate to destroy you.  You have gambled everything on this."

"So I have.  But that is the nature of things, Mother," Alaric replied.  "I must gamble now or none of what I desire will be achieved."

"Even if you prevail, and win a place for Beta Galaxy in the invasion, the disruption of even a minor Lyran strike could delay the advance on Tharkad.  It will give them time to rally, or for the reported Davion reinforcements to arrive."

"I fear neither.  The Lyrans are a broken people, the Davions are led by a brash, craven fool who seeks glory against the Liaos, and will not concern himself with our war until it is too late. Even if he does act in time, I know who he will send; and though Julian Davion is a worthy warrior, he will not have the strength sent with him to make a difference." Alaric sneered internally at Spheroid politics, that poison that drove leaders to mistrust their most able—and, in this case, most loyal—commanders. Even if we are not immune to that; though, Seth Ward is right to be wary of me.

Katrina nodded.  "And what of the rumors we have heard from the Foxes?  That Trillian Steiner-Davion has gone beyond the portal, the 'Looking Glass', to seek allies in the other Inner Sphere?"

For a moment she felt she'd scored a point with her son, as his expression betrayed a hint of uncertainty.  "They will have the Falcons to deal with," he said.  "Malvina's death or capture will certainly inflame her followers.  These 'Arcadians' will be too busy with the bloodfoul Mongols to trouble us."

"Or so you hope."

"Hope does not enter into it, Mother.  At this time, I do what I must, if my ambitions are to be fulfilled."  Alaric's uncertainty vanished.  "Anastasia will come, and I will destroy her and her Wolf Hunters.  Whether her head is my trophy or her wrist bears my bondcord, it will ensure me a place at the Khan's side when the time comes to take Tharkad."

"I look forward to seeing that."  Katrina smiled thinly.  "Especially the part about taking Tharkad."



Outpost-class DropShip Coeur de Loup
Thuban, Donegal Province
Lyran Commonwealth
4 January 3143


Roderick Steiner resisted the urge to scream every obscenity he could think of, and a few things that he wasn’t actually sure were curses. Taking a deep breath, he faced the — very young, and, surrounded by Clanners who if they weren’t actually armed still looked like it and some very angry senior LCAF officers, absolutely terrified — staff Hauptmann and asked, with a calm that fooled absolutely nobody, “Would you please repeat that, Hauptmann?”

“I—I’m sorry, sir,” the pale youth responded, “but there are no reinforcements. The First and Second Royal, and First Buena, Guards insist on Archon Melissa’s personal command, and, um, a-acting Archon Vede—” he cut off at Roderick’s glare.

“Knock it off, Steiner,” Anastasia Kerensky stepped in. “Terrifying the kid into incoherence isn’t gonna change anything, and stop trying to drill a hole in the bulkhead with your stare. You,” she pointed at the High Command’s messenger, “wait outside.”  She waited until they’d taken the hint and left before continuing. “So, I take it this means that we’re ******—and not in the fun way?”

“That’s about the size of it,” Jasek Kelswa-Steiner agreed, from where he’d been talking quietly with his senior Colonel—and rumoured Lohengrin operative—Joss Vandel. “Definitely explains some things, though; and Vedet’s absolutely stupid enough to do exactly what we've heard. But, yes, Colonel Kerensky,” he seemed to slump slightly, “without the Guards, there’s no way we can hold here. We’ve got three units we can count on in a fight,” he called up the relevant orders of battle on the Coeur de Loup’s holotank, “my Stormhammers, your Wolf Hunters, and Roderick’s Strikers. The rest—well, Roderick’s been working with them, so what do you think?”

More bad news to be had. “If the Wolves give us another month or two—and they won’t—the composite Arcturan and Donegal Guards regiments we’ve put together should be able to reliably hold defensive positions with secure flanks,” Roderick sighed. “It isn’t their fault, they’ve been beaten to hell and I’ve got leutnants commanding battalions—Hel, one regimental CO was a sergeant six months ago—but they’re still in no shape to fight. The Lyran Guards’ll fight better, but if you order me to take them up against Clan regulars in a field battle, Jasek, I might as well shoot them myself.”

Several minutes of silent — or at least quiet — contemplation followed, before Kerensky broke that quiet.

“Okay, so, we can’t defend here, and we’re all agreed that we can’t retreat without making a try at something—however sensible that’d be—because that idiot Vedet’ll just use us for scapegoats, yes?” Nods at that. “Then I say we attack.”

“You might be fine with dying gloriously,” Jasek scoffed, “but I’d rather achieve something more than just throwing five regiments at four—or more—Galaxies and hoping for the best.”

“I didn’t say we attack Seth Ward’s forces head-on,” Anastasia riposted, adjusting the holotable to a star map, painted in grey and blue. “Seth Ward’s prepping to try and secure his flanks before hitting here, then Tharkad. Means there’s only going to be one Galaxy on Gallery for a while, and a Sea Fox trader,” she smiled, hard and feral, “let me know that the Crusaders are piling more supplies on what they took from you. We hit that, steal or torch as much of it as we can, we shove a Gauss slug right in the middle of their whole offensive’s timetable. And,” she grinned, “that little Fox also told me that the Galaxy staying behind, is going to be Alaric Wolf’s Beta. I might mount his head over my desk.”

Roderick frowned, at the information and Anastasia’s bloodthirsty boast. “And you just happened to run into a Sea Fox merchant with this information? I take it I’m not the only one finding that suspicious?”

“Oh, no question, it’s a trap,” Anastasia smiled again, with the same feral cast to it, “but you need to stop thinking Alaric’s gonna act like a soldier—like you would, Steiner. He’s the same as all us Trueborn; a gambler, and one who still hasn’t learned rule one of gambling—never bet what you can’t afford to lose. Those supply stockpiles are real, that’s why Alaric used them for bait; he knows we can’t ignore them. He just figures he won’t have to pay up. I say we show him he’s wrong.”

That led to another long, contemplative silence, before Jasek sighed.

“It’s not a good plan, but I think it’s the only one we’ve got that might work,” he agreed. “I don’t suppose that trader of yours knew anything about Ward’s actual plans, Colonel Kerensky?”

“No, but I have met Seth Ward,” Anastasia replied, returning the holotank to showing a starmap. “He’s a big one for converging attacks. So my best estimate is that,” she began highlighting stars, “based on mine and your run ins with his forces, and the amount of supplies he's been contracting the Foxes to move, he’s got at least six Galaxies pushing us, probably more—too bad we can’t let the Mariks know; he’s gotta have stripped the border with them bare to field that big a force, and if they knew they’d be up his ass faster than an ice hellion up a trouser leg,” Anastisa grinned again. “My guess, is that once he’s concentrated forces on Gallery, he’ll send two Galaxies to Smolnik, to try and take me out—he never did believe in fair fights—two more swinging out to Callisto before hitting here, and leave two concentrating on Gallery as main reserves. Unfortunately,” her face shifted to an expression of mock contrition, so exaggerated that Roderick felt like he was at a theatre back on Tharkad, “I happen to know that someone seems to’ve sabotaged Zeta Galaxy’s JumpShip echelon. Whoever those naughty, naughty boys and girls were, they’ve been poking holes in L-H tank seals. Gonna delay them until at least late February, considering where spares and more fuel are going to have to come from.”

“Well, that’s unfortunate,” Jasek looked grim. “You both know the First Davion Guards are on their way to reinforce us, but they can’t get here any sooner than that. Physically can’t; I’ve sent a courier to Furillo to inform Julian Davion what’s going on, and roughly what our plans are, but who knows if he’ll get the message. Damn the Blackout,” Jasek’s expression hardened, turned into an inward-focusing anger; and Roderick was suddenly very glad he couldn’t see inside Kelswa-Steiner’s thoughts, “if I ever find out who was responsible for it, they will suffer.”

“And I’ll hand you the thumbscrews,” Anastasia laughed. “Still, can’t say the delay would be a bad thing; my people need time to rest and refit, and we need to plan this thing. I know, I have a reputation for being reckless,” she laughed again, high, rich and sincere, “but there’s a line between reckless and stupid. We’ve only got one shot at this, so my Hunters and your Stormhammers have to do it right.”

Roderick breathed out, feeling some tension drain. “What do you want me to do,” he asked, “while you’re prepping this?”

“Start moving troops back to Tharkad, quietly,” Jasek said, with an unnerving steadiness. “A company here, a battalion there; make it look as much like normal troop rotations as you can. I’ll get the landing orders cut; the military port at Olympia,” he clarified. “Last we heard, Vedet’s not got that much support in the Navy or Aerospace Force, and the Second Royal Guards are camped out there, so it’s safe. We’re going to need more troops on Tharkad that we can count on before this is over.”

“You think … what, Jasek? That he’d try to coup the High Command?” Roderick ased, quietly; not sure if he really wanted an answer. “That … seems out of character.”

“I don’t know what he might try,” Jasek responded. “But you’ve never met him when he’s desperate, Roderick, I have. And I think he might risk something like that, yes. Means we need to be ready to stop it.”  Or Lady Trillian might not have a Commonwealth worth saving...

[Steve]

Palace of Parliament
Laughlin Capital District, Roslyn, Eastern Islay
Arcadia, Royal Arcadia March
Royal Federation
9 January 3143


For all her years of training in the court of Tharkad, both official and the natural training one got in the Archon's Royal Court, Trillian's poise was becoming sorely tested in the first week of the year.  Timkovichi's plight put everything in the air for her, even whether or not she might even get home.

It was immensely frustrating to say the least.  Her initial hope was that this would provoke a shift in the Privy Council in her favor.  That their troops under assault would at last get their sympathy.  Instead she was treated to the usual tactics over this term or that while, in the press, some arguments were now being aired by pundits that High King Nathaniel placed the troops on Timkovichi specifically to get attacked.  This would, they argued, enable him to do an end-run around the Privy Council and Parliament, an argument tailor-made to undermine anything she might do to finally make a breakthrough.

At the very least progress seemed within her grasp.  Speakers Soto and Stuart agreed to a request by her to meet with the Joint Parliamentary Committee on Defense, which turned into a semi-public session.  That alone was important to her cause; even better, while a few of the members were not prominent in either house, the names included veteran parliamentarians representing a broad range of interests that gave her an opening to sway beyond the Committee chambers.

The meeting started with questions about her purchases of war material and Lyran readiness to employ them.  She answered them as succinctly as she could before asking permission to level her own question.  Senator Zento, a Committee member, tried to shush her, but was overruled by the Committee's chair, Senator Lady Gerda Rembrandt of Palmyre Deans.

With that opening made, and permission given, Trillian spoke.  "You are asking many questions about the weapons and machines I've bought or leased, but the fact remains I cannot tell you anything more of their use.  Save the earliest deliveries my purchases are beyond the reach of the Lyran Commonwealth until something is done about the Falcon blockade of the Looking Glass.  I would ask this Committee's intentions on the matter."

"Such military matters are not for you to concern yourself with," Zento snapped.  "The military will advise His Majesty as is appropriate and that is all you need know."

"With due respect, Senator Zento, I have every reason to be concerned," Trillian retorted.  "My way home is blocked until something is done about the Falcons.  My ability to send the forces I've hired and the weapon's I've bought to aid my people, it is also reliant on what comes.  Otherwise I have spent several billion pound sterling for nothing.  I believe I am due some consideration, especially since we all know His Majesty is favorable to an intervention and is being restrained and impeded by his ministers and military commanders."

"That is true."  Assemblywoman Yolanda Ocasio, from the world Freedom, spoke the words with a particular Latin accent.  She was, if Trillian recalled correctly, from the Cebalrai refugees who fled their world when it was lost to Galedon in 3119.  "As for intentions, I think it plain we will support His Majesty in sending forces to force the Falcons away."

"The issue, as always, is that the costs will disrupt the budget."  Senator Rembrandt spoke the words with a tired look, presumably since she'd been involved in the budget arguments involved.  "And the full scale of the alliance you seek would be further disruptive."

"I understand that for a realm as large and diverse as the Federation, the yearly government budget is always a source of political contention."  Trillian folded her hands in front of her and spoke delicately.  "But certainly an emergency situation has claim to consideration of adjustments to meet it?"

"We have already done some shifting on your behalf, Lady Trillian," Zento snapped.  "Do not presume that the King's favor gives you leave to lecture us for more."

"I do not wish to lecture, but to understand," Trillian replied.  "I already understand that for your people military spending has become a difficult political subject, given the Peace of Dieron and fears of the Capellan Empire's naval program.  Nor do I wish to prejudice your self-defense needs, I merely wish to reflect how they are tied into the Commonwealth's fate."

"As in, your argument that the Clans would not be amenable to peaceful interaction through the Glass," Zento said.  "It suitably justifies your position, does it not?  Yet I wonder how true it would be, if you were capable of living with them for so long."

"A history in which their raids on our worlds were often, such that our people had to learn to live with them."  Trillian focused on Zento specifically.  "Until recently, your people had to live with similar prospects, my Lord, given the times the forces of the Compact struck at Summer.  Our border worlds with the Falcons faced even more attacks than Summer and the Isle of Skye have in your history.  I brought the historical record, and I'm certain the military's own examination of sources would verify it, if you still doubt my word."

Zento met her eyes with a frustrated glare.  "If you know so much of our history, Lady Trillian, you would appreciate why it is foolish for us to give you the aid you seek.  The Empire's fleet grows by the year, and the Azami resent their losses in the war.  At this critical point in time, when we need to see to our own defense, you ask us to devote treasure and blood to yours, in a war your Archon started from her own ambition!  You fill our young ruler with visions of glory, of a chance to be a heroic figure saving your helpless people, when his own need his attention!"

Zento's passion was obvious, moreso than it'd been before, as if her persistence was finally exhausting his control.  A need to shout back rose within her.  He was trying to doom her people all from his fear of an enemy who had, to this point, kept the peace more than his own had.  He accuses me of self-justification, as if he is innocent, because the more he speaks the more I imagine he and those like him have more in mind than defensive measures.

But to respond in like, or say so, would not win her the Committee.  She had to sacrifice that desired catharsis and give a reply based on reason, not feeling.

"I am here to save my people, and in the process, to save yours."  She spoke coldly, unable to keep the chill from her words, but kept the venom out.  "The Commonwealth is not innocent.  Few states are.  But we have more than paid for our mistakes.  Nor is it our fate alone at stake here.  Because if the Commonwealth falls, nothing stands between your worlds and the Clans.  The Jade Falcons already resent and hate you for the humiliation of losing their Khan, and her followers will be especially eager to avenge her loss.  They will come through the Glass, if not to conquer, then to raid and murder, and your people will suffer the same as mine did.  The Wolves, in time, would do the same, testing you for weakness."  She broke eye contact with Zento to focus on Rembrandt and the others in turn.  "Even if you do win peace with them, it doesn't last.  It can't last.  For a Clan warrior, progression requires conflict, it requires glory in battle, and they need enemies to fight.  Any truce you sign will strain and break under that need."  Her hand took up the bottle of spring water for her to take a swig of, refreshing her parched throat.  With no one having spoken yet, she continued.  "You cannot abandon the Commonwealth without harming yourselves.  Nor can you simply hold the Glass on our end, they would just strike at your forces there, and to hold their WarShips back, you would have to permanently keep yours on station.  I know enough of your situation to know you can't do this indefinitely, not with the Imperial fleet growing every year.  The alliance I seek to form, and which Lord Zento bitterly opposes, will be the security you need, and we can both prosper once this conflict ends."

While Zento frowned openly, there was only quiet from the Committee.  Ultimately Ocasio spoke up once again.  "Your argument is certainly persuasive, Lady Trillian.  And my people have known similar depredation from House Kurita.  But you ask much of us.  Even if we ultimately agree to this alliance and expanding our forces to meet the challenge, it is doubtful the forces you're asking for will be available in the time frame you're speaking of.  You will have to moderate your expectations."

Trillian nodded at her.  She sounded sympathetic at least, though that might just be a politician's disarming sympathy, not genuine.  "I thank the Committee for any consideration it might give, and I'll try to see your concerns met.  Are there any further questions?"

Rembrandt glanced to either direction before shaking her head.  "There are none.  We will give consideration to your arguments and His Majesty's formal requests to Parliament.  And we do hope the military is preparing a suitable response to this Falcon attack.  Whatever the final outcome of your mission, we cannot let this blockade continue.  As for now, this session is adjourned."  She smacked her gavel with finality.

Trillian stood, thankful for the sympathetic glances from some of the reporters and viewers in the galley, as well as those of her own staff.  She forced a smile she didn't feel to her lips while, inwardly, she held only despair.

Yes, she'd managed to sway some of those attending, and she'd parried Zento effectively.  Rembrandt's support for breaking the Falcon attack would hopefully reopen her path home, at least.

But Ocasio's words hammered home that it wasn't just Zento and whatever faction he was working with that stood against her.  Even those sympathetic were unwilling to devote the forces needed in the short time left; none, it seemed, save the King himself.

And without that help, she wasn't sure she'd have a home to go back to.




The holovid in the Office of the Lord of the Privy Council faded into inactivity a moment after the Committee meeting ended.  From his desk, Prince Peter lowered the remote.  "She is formidable."

"I would expect nothing less of a courtier of her rank."  Grand Admiral Stewart shifted in his seat.  Across from him Lord Arnold kept his arms crossed and remained silent.  "And I cannot help but feel Zento is becoming a liability."

"He and I do not see eye to eye on many things, but he is correct to remind everyone that Lady Trillian's requests are too much."  Arnold sat up.  "Yet I fear we're losing ground to her, and the King's enthusiasm for her cause is widely known."

"My worry is that Zento will, in frustration, release the intelligence we have on the Empire's naval program."  Stewart turned his head.  "Your Highness, have you anything to suggest?"

"Hm."  Peter drew in a quiet breath and tried to focus his mind on the problem.  "It is patently obvious we cannot abandon the Second Cuirassiers.  You have cut the orders?"

"They are ready for final approval.  Admiral Bingham will set out from Tharkad the moment he receives the final order."

Fourth Battle Fleet should suffice given what we've been told of their forces.  Though misfortune might see the fleet compelled into the yards for extensive repair, leaving us with just two battle fleets in case of emergency.  Peter finally nodded.  "Send the order then."

"I only pray we do not suffer more loss, more expense, for this foolishness," groused Arnold.

Peter leveled something close to a glare at his cousin.  "Tell me, Arnold, what would you have us do?"

"Certainly we must rescue the Cuirassiers, but they should never have been posted there in the first place," Arnold replied.  He glared at both of them.  "You should have stood up to Nathaniel then."

"You're being short-sighted," Stewart snapped.  "Once the Glass was formed and our forces landed to stop Hazen, there was no avoiding some involvement."

"The Ghastillians could have easily defended the Atocongo side."  Arnold crossed his arms.  "This entire thing has become ruinous for the Federation.  It's a distraction from the real threat.  The Empire must be broken before anything else."

"That was always a long shot goal, Arnold, and it's time to accept it's never going to happen."

"Then I must accept the inevitability of war, and the loss of more lives to protect what is ours."  Arnold stood.  "And I wonder about you, Peter.  You were a lion on the battlefield in your day, but losing Prince James has taken your fire.  You should be eager for avenging his loss and pressuring the young fool on the throne to give up his fantasies and accept reality.  Instead you coddle him, you entertain his fancies."

"You are one to talk, Arnold, when it comes to reality, given you clearly cannot accept the reality before you."  Rising from his chair, Peter leaned against his desk and locked his eyes on Arnold.  As always his cousin was a portrait-perfect image of a Lyran military man, his chest covered in honors, his gray-white facial hair trimmed meticulously, and Steiner blue eyes glistening like ice.  And behind it all, a brain firmly set in its ways, impervious to contrary reality.  "Jackie is gone, and she is not here for you to manipulate and influence into pursuing your fantasies of a victorious lightning war to break the Empire for a generation.  Nathaniel has his own ideas for the future and instead of trying to convince him, you demand he agree with everything you proclaim and at the failure of this approach, denounce him as unfit.  I have spent months trying to persuade him against committing to this war, or to overcommitting on his peace initiatives, and you do me no favors with your behavior!  You treat him as a Lance Lieutenant who stepped out of line and that has never worked!"  Peter smacked his hand to his desk.  "Dammit, the Empire's naval buildup must be met or ceased, but you are more worried about getting your way, about being right, than accomplishing that goal."

"Because I am not naive about Nathaniel," Arnold hissed.  "He has been wrongheaded since childhood, ever since you and Jackie failed to teach him proper respect for the military and our mission.  Now it falls on us to keep him from ruining us!"

"Gentlemen."  Stewart finally rose as well.  "This dispute is fruitless.  We have greater concerns at hand, and that is how to deal with the Clan threat.  We are in agreement that the 4th Fleet must be sent, yes?"

"We agree on that much," Arnold growled.  "To evacuate our troops if nothing else."

"Then I will send the orders immediately.  I trust the Army will see to it that the relief troops are prepared?"

Arnold clenched his jaw.  "The First Royal Lancers and Second Donegal Cavalry have their orders to depart for Atocongo and the Glass, and the Eighth Donegal Guards, Tharkad Rangers, and Second Royal BattleMech Brigade will be deployed from their interior positions to back them up as needed.  Archduke Ethan is sending the Kell Hounds' Second Regiment to support the Lancers."  He shook his head.  "I needn't tell you we have now committed most of our reserves in the Donegal Theater to this matter.  Sending more troops will prejudice defenses in-theater, or force us to reduce troops elsewhere."

"And yet, you have told us," Peter remarked wryly.  "Our business is done, then, and I have state duties to attend to.  I'll see you and the others for a meeting this weekend, then?"

"I suppose," Arnold replied, though his eyes made it clear how he felt.  He sees me as a liability, a restraint, more than a useful member of his ad hoc committee, Peter thought bitterly.  I suppose I am becoming less in line with them, even if I agree with the problems posed by the Empire.

"I am ever at your disposal, Highness."  Stewart bowed slightly before heading for the door, Arnold behind him.

Peter watched them go.  Stewart is playing both sides of our dispute, that I'm sure of.  He wishes to crush the Empire's nascent fleet in the yards as well, but will not sacrifice his position in the AFRF, or the Royal Court, to see it done.  And it feels like things are fast approaching that point.  If a breach happens between them and Nathaniel… no, I don't wish to think on it.  He glanced down at his desk and one of the papers there, a new delivery from SIS.  He pulled it out to see the latest confirmation of Capellan naval construction and the estimates for their fleet sizes.  A fleet of sixteen battleships by 3145, both fast and heavy units, when we will have just seven.  Twenty-four heavy cruisers, with four larger than ours, where we will have fourteen.  Similar proportions in escort WarShips and supporting DropShips.  Every one of their yards is approaching wartime output, at Oriente, at New Delos, at Boras and Capella, and they're expanding capacity for an even larger program after this one completes.  We have to respond, as expensive as it will be.  Nathaniel wants it to be by making permanent peace instead of fueling the arms race enveloping the Inner Sphere, but we need to build to match regardless, or we shall be helpless.  And now we have this distraction.

He sighed and plopped into his seat.  Nathaniel, Arnold, all of us, we are wagering our future on our choices.  Should we fail, if the Peace of Dieron ends, a Fifth Succession War will be our reward.  Memories of 3120 flashed through his mind, of dozens of regiments of all types reduced to mere battalions of intact units, as nineteen year old lieutenants with just a year of academy training commanded lances of militia-drafted pilots even in the Proctor Heavy Guards, all under thirty year old colonels pushed up through the ranks by the bitter attrition of ten years of bloody war bringing the AFRF to the breaking point.  Could Nathaniel's fears prove true?  A Fifth Succession War that will send us back to the dark ages of the 29th and 30th Centuries?  God save us from that fate!

WIth a heavy heart, Peter resumed his duties, praying that he could yet chart a course between the deadly possibilities of the present and his grand-nephew's bright vision of the future.

[Steve]

All The Way: The Ranger Brigades



The Ranger Brigades saw their beginning in the Liberation War and the following foundation of the Arcadian Rangers as a fast-response defensive force for the planet.  Over the following decades and century, the Rangers' mission profile shifted to becoming a light-weight raiding and skirmishing force, skilled in air drop and orbital drop insertions as well as conventional landings.  Their expansion started with the influx of Bolanese survivors and refugees in 3034, leading to the formation of the Bolan Rangers in 3035, followed by the induction of the former 3rd Tamarind Guards as the Tamarind Rangers with Labouchere's changeover to the newly-forming Federation a year later.  Two new brigades, centered on Alarion and Donegal, would be formed following the War of Donegalian Succession.

During the Terran War the need for units to harass Terran garrisons and strike at their supply lines during campaigns prompted the formation of more Ranger brigades, named for the major worlds of the Federation with said worlds often contributing to the formation through bond sales and subscriptions.  A certain romanticism for the Rangers was the result, given the daring of their raiding and skirmishing operations as they customarily rely entirely on lighter 'Mechs.  The only region of the Federation to not be represented in some way has been Skye, for whom the Skye Rangers represent that distinctive title, which has had occasional detrimental issues whenever a Ranger brigade and the Skye Rangers cooperate.

At their height the Rangers numbered fourteen brigades, but severe losses in the 4th Succession War and the rebuilding time needed for the AFRF have left just six still in service.  While of varying skill levels each unit is extensively trained to fulfill their strategic role in the AFRF's operational scheme.  Their emphasis on airborne maneuvers and drops has led to the adoption of an old motto from pre-spaceflight airborne troops that was accepted as the spirit of the Ranger creed: "All The Way".



Commanding Officer


A lifelong member of the Ranger Corps, Lieutenant General Sir Arthur York served with distinction in the Concord Rangers during the 4th Succession War before grievous crippling injuries in the unit's near-destruction on Asellus Australis in 3119 required his transfer to command and staff duties.  For the last twenty years he's risen through the ranks of the AFRF and the Ranger Corps' command and administration to his current posting, and is noted for his devotion to restoring his unit and the rest of the Corps to full strength.  As of late he has relocated his headquarters from the Corps' traditional HQ of Fort Fitzsimmons in southeastern Islay on Arcadia to Concord's Fort Patton, citing the need to be closer to the main theaters of the Federation's frontier.  Some speculation holds that it is also due to his dislike of High King Nathaniel and the new ruler's announced support for the continuation of the Peace of Dieron.


Forces


The Rangers at first glance may seem to be just another version of the Strikers, but they operate under a different principle and focus.  The Strikers complement raiding with heavy cavalry capability that lets them work with line units.  The Ranger brigades lack the weight for this and so are rarely employed in such engagements as anything but skirmishers, scouts, or raiders.  They are well-armed for their weight, at least, many machines employing Terran-quality weaponry even if they are not of Terran quality themselves, and the best in electronic hardware such as ECMs and Active Probes.  Due to their mission specifications they deploy from assault DropShips at lance and company size and do not employ battalion-carrying DropShips, which does require a larger JumpShip complement than usual for their size.  One of the limitations to re-expanding the formation has been this necessity.


Colors and Insignia

The Rangers favor blue and white, befitting their nature as an airborne unit, with variations in color tone and trim or flash colors by unit.  Each individual brigade has its own insignia and patch as well, while members of Ranger units wear a forest green beret with their unit patch upon it.


Arcadian Rangers: The Liberator's Own

The Arcadian Rangers have the distinction of being the oldest Arcadian regiment of the AFRF, formed in 3026 by Sara Proctor as a rapid response force during the Liberation War.  She often led the unit personally, all the way to the final fateful battle of Parnon.  After the Liberation War the Rangers, and the Arcadian Guards, remained as Arcadia's defensive forces, and later that of the Free March on to the Royal Federation.

In the two centuries since their founding the Rangers have often been kept to a keen edge, even as their mission changed to that of the raiding and skirmishing force they are today.  On some rare occasions they have been employed as an initial landing unit to pave the way for others, most notably in the 3034 Bolan Rettungsaktion, where the Rangers went in first in an orbital drop that led to the shattering of the Marian Hegemony's Gladiator Auxilia and secured the LZ for the rest of the rescue force.

After suffering significant casualties during the campaign to secure Procyon in 3119-3120, the Rangers were returned to full strength and are currently assigned to Arcadia for wargaming and training after a stint in the Alarion March.  The unit patch depicts a uniformed rider on a rearing horse holding a rifle, flanked by green trees to each side and with a snow-capped mountain in the background. The unit's parade colors are sky blue, forest green, and white.

Officers
Brigadier Fraser is Arcadian-born, coming from the wilderness of the MacDougal Range and growing up near the regiment's traditional headquarters and training center of Fort Evergreen.  Her father, an officer of the Royal Arcadian Mounted Police, encouraged her efforts to join the AFRF and become a member of the regiment she idealized.  She was one of the "emergency appointment" officers of the late 4th Succession War, having only completed a year at Ayrshire before being sworn in as a Lieutenant at the age of nineteen in 3118 and joining her prized regiment due to demonstrated skill in fast 'Mechs.  She was decorated for performance under fire in the Procyon campaign, scoring three kills against the 2nd Liao Guards before being wounded and shot out of her 'Mech.  She's spent her entire career in the Ranger Brigades, most of it in the Arcadian Rangers, and became one of the youngest common-born general officers in AFRF history on her promotion to Brigadier in 3140 and assignment as CO of the Arcadian Rangers.  She's kept her unit in top shape, running repeated training courses through the forests and mountains she grew up in.


Tactics
Like any of their fellow brigades, the Rangers are specialists in getting in fast, hitting their target, and getting out before reaction can overwhelm their light units.  They frequently train in wilderness terrain and are quite proficient in forest and mountain maneuvering.


Arcadian Rangers BattleMech Regiment (Veteran/Fanatical/A)
CO: Brigadier Luisa Fraser
 XO/Regimental CO: Colonel Rama Ambedkar
 1st Batt.: Lt. Col. Jacob Anders
 2nd Batt.: Lt. Col. Dieter Fischer
 3rd Batt.: Lt. Col. Moshe Gideon
 4th Batt.: Lt. Col. Natalya Osinskaya
Every battalion but the first consists entirely of lightweight OmniMechs, with two skirmisher companies and a scout company.  The 1st Battalion averages forty tons with its two rapid reaction companies of 35 to 50 ton hunter-killer OmniMechs, including a lance of Sunhawks, and a fire support company.


Arcadian Rangers Aerospace Wing (Veteran/Fanatical/A)
CO: Wing Commander Halina Lewinska
Primarily a force of interceptor OmniFighters, the Rangers' wing includes one flight of heavy Darter OmniFighters for heavy air support.


Arcadian Rangers Armored Infantry Regiment (Veteran/Fanatical/A)
CO: Col. Matthias Boulanger
The Rangers' armored infantry are two battalions of medium and light-weight battle armor for supporting their aiding missions and a battalion of heavy suits for defense of LZs, as well as a dedicated Special Operations Team.  The latter are also trained for air drops to support formation of LZs or raiding hardened targets.


Bolan Rangers: Death from Above


Founded from the surviving garrison of Gypsum during the Marian conquest of the Principality of Bolan in 3033-34, the Bolan Rangers have gained a reputation for their fearlessness in operations.  They provided vital service during the War of Donegalian Succession in forestalling New Commonwealth operations against Bolan with objective raids into the bordering worlds, including securing the handover of the entire world of Rosice after catching its garrison in a vertical envelopment.  While often detached to other fronts during the Federation's wars of the following decades, the Rangers typically remain on the worlds around Bolan, a practice solidified by the Dominate's attack in 3097 and the Hidden Front engagements of the 4th Succession War.

The unit patch is a Star of Bolan with a drawn khanda sword of silver color facing downward, all on a disc of red and gold. The sword's direction indicates the unit's readiness to descend upon their foes.

Officers
Brigadier Kanda is Bolan-born, a resident of Bolan City from birth.  He was orphaned at a young age when his parents were killed in the fighting with the Scipian Dominate in 3098, and he spent over a year of his childhood on the streets, ending up under the protection of Shanta Chaudhri, the leader of the Swords of Vishnu resistance force.  Adopted by a widowed aunt after the liberation of Bolan in 3100, he joined the AFRF during the 4th Succession War and served in the Bolan Regulars before his assignment to the Rangers, having proven a skilled light 'Mech pilot.  He is considered a capable leader by his subordinates and peers, but has occasionally proven controversial due to his anti-Principate attitudes and support for the Bolan Reclamation concept, and forcibly retaking the former Bolanese worlds still held by the Principate, even being reprimanded for a statement made to Bolanese press expressing his view that another war with the Principate "is inevitable and desirable".

Tactics
Given the unit's motto, it is unsurprising that the Bolan Rangers train for air and orbital drop operations extensively, becoming quite proficient, and the brigade's commanders have even accepted the need for an extra JumpShip so as to employ more aerodyne DropShips for tactical aerial drops.


Bolan Rangers BattleMech Regiment (Regular/Reliable/B)
CO: Brigadier Jagdish Kanda
Regimental CO: Colonel Roman Angelescu
 1st Batt.: Lt. Col. Veasna Soun
 2nd Batt.: Lt. Col. Sovanna Keo
 3rd Batt.: Lt. Col. Pitambar Korrapati
 4th Batt.: Lt. Col. Sethuraman Bose

Bolan Rangers Aerospace Wing (Veteran/Fanatical/B)
CO: Wing Commander Priyanka Gupta

Bolan Rangers Armored Infantry Regiment (Veteran/Fanatical/B)
CO/Brigade XO: Colonel Kiang Huan



Tamarind Rangers: The Tenacious Third

The Tamarind Rangers were drawn from the Grand Duchy's 3rd Tamarind Guards in 3036 after they, and the planet Labouchere, agreed to join the newly-forming Royal Federation instead of waiting for likely Principate conquest.  As the Guards were primarily a force of light and medium 'Mechs they were reorganized as the Tamarind Rangers by the AFRF.  They first saw combat in the War of Donegalian Succession, taking part in the defense of Campbelton in 3041-42 that saw the unit reduced to a battalion worth of effectives.  Rebuilt as a proper Rangers brigade, they later served in the Terran War, assisting the 1st Atrean Dragoons in reclaiming Atreus in 3052 and joining the conquest of New Dallas in 3059.  Rotated back to Tamarind after the war, they joined the counter-attack against the Oriento-Capellan invasion of the Principality of Atreus in 3065, fighting on Atreus, Campbelton, and other adjoining worlds.

The unit has twice faced near-destruction in the last half-century.  During the Dominate War they remained behind the lines on conquered Tamarind, rallying resistance to Imperator Scipio O'Reilly's occupation, and thwarting efforts to consolidate Tamarind's industries for Scipio's war effort.  This caused extensive casualties and required the unit spend the better part of the next decade rebuilding, which it completed just in time for the 4th Succession War, where it was badly mauled while trying to hold Asellus Australis from the Order of the Shining Star.  Withdrawn back to Tamarind, the Rangers were repeatedly involved in the Hidden Front fighting with the Principate's legions, driving off an invasion of Trellisane and likewise being repulsed from Paradise.  They prevented the destruction of the Tamarind MIlitary Institute in 3117 by Oriento-Capellan-hired mercenaries.  Reduced to half strength by all these battles, they were nevertheless being prepared for transfer to the Oriente front of the war when the Peace of Dieron ended the fighting.

Since the end of the 4th Succession War the Tamarind Rangers have spent most of their time on Tamarind rebuilding.  In 3140 they were re-assigned to Concord against the Grand Duke of Tamarind's requests in order to participate in the EAGLE war game exercises, after which they were posted on Irian to join the border forces watching the Oriento-Capellan Empire.


Officers
Brigadier Juliette Duchamps is a native of nearby Trellisane that worked her way up the ranks of the Ranger Corps.  She was assigned to command the Tamarind Rangers after two other officers turned the posting down due to the unit's reputation of connections with Tamarindian separatism, and while not Tamarindian herself her attentiveness to the needs of her unit, especially with their prolonged deployment away from their homeworld, has won her the respect of her subordinates.  She's noted as successfully managing to curb separatist sentiments with this approach, though a few in MCIS Internal Security wonder if it may be too good to be true.

Lt. Colonel Rupesh Samsthanam is the nephew of Grand Duke Ganapati.  He was a top graduate from the Tamarind Military Institute in the Class of '30 and has made a meteoric rise through the ranks of the Tamarind Guards before winning his current assignment with the Rangers.  He lacks some of the separatist zeal of his relatives and is noted as a supporter of High King Nathaniel's peace policies.


Tactics
While airborne drops are part of their training, the Tamarind Rangers are excellent skirmishers by preference, and have as of late proven proficient in underwater maneuvers.


Tamarind Rangers BattleMech Regiment (Regular/Reliable/B)
CO: Brigadier Juliette Duchamps
XO/Regimental CO: Colonel Mark Angelou
 1st Batt.: Lt. Col. Yvette Rouchet
 2nd Batt.: Lt. Col. Lord Michel-Pierre St.-Denis
 3rd Batt.: Lt. Col. Jasminder Choudhury
 4th Batt.: Lt. Col. Hakim Zahari


Tamarind Rangers Aerospace Wing (Veteran/Reliable/B)
CO: Wing Commander Erik Darre

Tamarind Rangers Armored Infantry Regiment (Veteran/Reliable/A)
CO: Colonel Roger Trenchard
By weight the Tamarind Rangers' Armored Infantry is the heaviest armored infantry regiment of the entire corps, with each company having at least one platoon of heavy or assault-weight battle armor; the 1st Battalion is entirely made up of heavy and assault armors.  As part of efforts to curb the unit's connections to Tamarindian separatists, the AFRF has upgraded the unit's kit considerably, employing Tamarind's native industries to improve relations.


Alarion Rangers: Hunters on the Rim

Alarion's fall to Royal Federation forces in late 3042 ensured the organization of a Federal March drawn from many of the New Commonwealth planets captured by the AFRF towards the end of the War of Donegalian Succession.  As part of the process of winning the loyalty of the local worlds' populations and remaining nobility, the AFRF chose to raise a new Ranger brigade from Alarion volunteers and former veterans of the NCAF, with the unit being added to the AFRF's rolls in 3047.  Like many units raised in preparation for a renewal of warfare with the St. Ives Compact states, it received its trial by fire during the Terran War, resisting the Terran raiding force that struck at Alarion's industries in 3050.  The Alarion Rangers were among the first units of OpForce Mjolnir dropped onto Tharkad when that world was claimed for the Federation in 3052 and would suffer severe losses in the liberation of Skye three and a half years later.  After being returned to its homeworld for rebuilding, the Rangers were sent back to the front during the Concord-Compact War as part of OpForce Excalibur, and while they performed only side operations during the Battle for New Avalon they were employed in the relief of Davion forces on Augusta, taking severe losses against the 4th Star Guards while disrupting Concord supply infrastructure before the 5th Syrtis Fusiliers provided heavy backup.

Upon return to Alarion they would be rebuilt once more and ultimately dispatched as part of a joint Lyran task force to support Ghastillia's efforts to suppress Rim separatism in the former Rim Republic.  Rotating in and out of these operations until the 4th Succession War, the Alarion Rangers gained a reputation for counterinsurgency capability that led to their current nickname, as well as close ties to the Ghastillian military.  Serving with distinction, but no noteworthy campaigns, the Rangers came out of the 4th Succession War as one of the more intact regiments.  They have sense rotated between Alarion and the Skye Theater as needed, including one noteworthy series of engagements with raiders from the 2nd Arkab Legion striking at Sabik in 3138.  The Azami came out the winners by most respects, though were barred from accomplishing some of their objectives.

The Alarion Rangers' unit insignia is a blue starfield with the outline of a rifleman in black.


Officers
Brigadier Steiner is from the Donegal line of Steiners, the younger son and, due to internal family issues, likely heir to the Archduke of Cameron.  He has a reputation for rigid inflexibility on matters of social propriety, including requiring his subordinates address him as "Lord Brigadier" which, while permissible under AFRF regulations, is seen by many as a sign of vanity and has many of his men disdainful of his affectations.  While such figures are usually seen as the lingering remnants of the old "social general" troubles of the Lyran states' and the old Commonwealth, Brigadier Steiner's proven a capable if not exemplary commander in the fighting with Azami raiders, and won the Donegal Hammer for tactical excellence and bravery under fire during the Fourth Succession War.

Tactics
Counter-raiding operations has become the focus of the Alarion Rangers since their assignment to the Skye Theater.
 
Alarion Rangers BattleMech Regiment (Regular/Reliable/B)
CO: Brigadier Lord Johannes Steiner
XO/Regimental CO: Colonel Patrick Ulam
 1st Batt.: Lt. Col. Henrietta Fuchs
 2nd Batt.: Lt. Col. Rhonda Mirren
 3rd Batt.: Lt. Col. Frederick Walters
 4th Batt.: Lt. Col. Rory McCann
Given their friendly links with Ghastillia, a number of Ghastillian OmniMechs fill out the TO&E of the regiment.

Alarion Rangers Aerospace Wing (Regular/Reliable/A)
CO: Wing Commander Rashid bin Walid

Alarion Rangers Armored Infantry Regiment (Regular/Reliable/A)
CO: Colonel Alan Kona



Donegal Rangers: Straightshooters

After the Loyalist victory in the War of Donegalian Succession, the need to rebuild Donegal's armed forces and fill in for the regiments that defected to the Legitimists prompted a number of deactivations and re-activations.  So was the need to establish a rapport with the Arcadian troops that the remaining Donegalian forces were to be integrated with.  High King Thomas, wishing to establish a bridge with his wife's subjects with an eye for the union of their realms, employed funding from the Proctor Trust to raise a regiment of top-of-the-line light and medium BattleMechs for the best raiders and skirmishers to be found in Donegal's ranks, establishing them as the new Donegal Rangers.  Established formally in 3045, they passed a trial by fire in resisting the invasion of Donegal by the Terrans five years later and would join their fellow sister regiment, the Alarion Rangers, as part of OpForce Mjolnir in 3052, raiding ComGuard and Terran facilities on the continent of Franz to support the AFRF's taking of Tharkad.  They suffered severe losses in the liberation of Buckminster three years later and would sit out the rest of the Terran War, rebuilding on Donegal.  In the Concord-Compact War they extracted survivors of the 1st Arkab Legion from Algedi at some cost in skirmishes with the 3rd Galedon Regulars; by this point their reputation for gunnery was well-established, leading to the unit's moniker.

As with many remaining units of the AFRF, they served significantly in the remaining conflicts of the Second Age of War, ultimately suffering significant losses in the failed effort to reclaim New Wessex before the Peace of Dieron.  They absorbed the survivors of the Porrima Rangers to regain regulation strength and have since remained assigned to the Arcturus and Donegal Theaters, currently stationed to Porrima to enable quick reinforcement towards either the Kuritan or Sudeten borders.

The unit insignia is a crosshairs set over the outline of a Dragon BattleMech.


Officers
Brigadier Hartfield has spent her career as a Ranger following a brief stint in the 7th Strikers during the 4th Succession War's later years, winning the Order of the Sword and Glove and the Military Cross of Valor for her actions on the front.  She has a reputation for blunt pragmatism and little patience for "bullcrap" (as a self-censored personnel report writer put it).  Reportedly she thinks very little of the new High King and is critical of Parliament's refusal to authorize military expansion, though she's yet to cross a line under the regulations.
Wing Commander Proctor-Steiner is the niece of the late High Queen Jacqueline.  Too young to have fought in the 4th Succession War, she has proven a consummate pilot, flying a Typhoon OmniFighter gifted to her by her aunt upon her promotion to Squadron Captain in 3139.


Tactics
While proficient in air-drop operations, the Donegal Rangers have made a regimental tradition of gunnery training to live up to their earned moniker, and their pilots regularly perform above the baseline in the AFRF for their skill rating.


Donegal Rangers BattleMech Regiment (Regular/Fanatical/B)
CO: Brigadier Yvonne Hartfield
Regimental CO: Colonel Duncan O'Connor
 1st Batt.: Lt. Col. John McTiernan
 2nd Batt.: Lt. Col. Teresa Greevey
 3rd Batt.: Lt. Col. Gabriel Logan
 4th Batt.: Lt. Col. Gerald Lumwe
As a point of pride the regiment continues to recruit heavily from Donegal and Cameron, with the personnel ferocious fighters and devoted to the Federation, seeing Donegal as being co-equal partners with Arcadia in the institution.  That they're not as well-kitted as the Arcadian or Tharkad Rangers is starting to sting, however, and some suspect that the Lyrantreu are responsible, especially as shipments of newer 'Mechs and equipment have recently picked up after High King Nathaniel assumed the throne.

Donegal Rangers Aerospace Wing (Veteran/Fanatical/B)
CO: Wing Commander Lady Ursula Proctor-Steiner
The Rangers' Aerospace Wing have a culture of excellence stretching back to their founding, and the pilots of the wing are committed to maintaining their reputation.

Donegal Rangers Armored Infantry Regiment (Regular/Reliable/B)
CO/Brigade XO: Colonel Niall Ferguson



Tharkad Rangers: Ethan's Hounds


The Tharkad Rangers are the youngest of the currently-serving Ranger brigades, formed in 3078 as part of High King Ethan's Reorganization Plan following the Concord-Compact War, with many of the initial members veterans of the fighting for New Avalon and other OpForce Excalibur operations.  Ethan handpicked the first commander, Brigadier Dame Augusta von Mackensen, one of his former instructors at Ayrshire and a veteran of the Arcadian Rangers, and would bring the unit with him on a number of his campaigns in the 3080s and 3090s.  Their reputation for successful raids and captures became such that they were dubbed as his "royal hunting hounds", a moniker they've taken to with relish over the years.

They were not part of his final campaign, however, as they were busy in a refit and reorganization cycle when the Oriento-Capellan invasion of Andurien struck and prompted the Federation's counter-invasion.  The regiment's morale took a blow at word of his mortal wounding on Nova Roma; by then they were firmly stuck in raiding campaigns against the Communal League as the war spread in that direction.  They executed a successful raiding action at Ballynure in 3112 and would accomplish some of their objectives on Pandora in the same year, thwarted at the end by the tenacity of the Pandora Workers' Brigade and arriving reinforcements.  In 3113 they struck Sudeten directly but only managed some damage before being compelled to retreat by the 1st Communal Guards.  After peace with the COMINTERSTEL powers in 3114 the Tharkad Rangers were part of the AFRF forces dispatched to assist Rasalhague, participating in the battles for Buckminster and Tukayyid.  Near the war's end they participated in the successful taking of Procyon from the Oriento-Capellans, though the costs were high enough that they sat out the remainder of the war and would not reach regiment strength again until 3124.

Since war's end the Tharkad Rangers have remained on their homeworld, serving as part of the garrison and providing wargame support for the Nagelring's classes.  They've often gotten their pick of the Nagelring's best graduates and continued largesse from the AFRF, more than one might expect given they're only rated as Reliable by MI5 due to the growing Lyrantreu presence in the unit.

The unit insignia is a gray wolfhound in mid-sprint on a blue-and-green disc set on Tharkad's planetary flag.

Officers
One of many scarred veterans of the 4th Succession War, Brigadier von Lohringhoven was named a Margrave of Gibbs by High Queen Jacqueline for service at the recommendation of his former commander in the 14th Donegal Guards, Field Marshal Lord Arnold Proctor-Steiner, who also arranged his posting in 3140.  His appointment to command a Ranger brigade instead of a position in one of the Donegal Guard RCTs has raised eyebrows, seen as a political appointment more than a military one, though he's proven a capable superior and has learned quickly the necessary tactics and methods of the unit.
Colonel Proctor-Steiner of the Armored Infantry is an older son of Lord Arnold and has served with skill in the armored infantry since his graduation from the Nagelring in 3124.  Like his father he is an avowed Lyrantreu and a lifelong officer of the Rangers Armored Infantry, rising in rank quickly between transfers and glowing evaluation reports.  Many see him as a case of the apple not falling far from the tree.

Tharkad Rangers BattleMech Regiment (Veteran/Reliable/A)
CO: Brigadier Lord Erik von Lohringhoven
XO/Regimental CO: Colonel Gerald Mueller
 1st Batt.: Lt. Col. Alexandra Schiff
 2nd Batt.: Lt. Col. Markus Wallenstein
 3rd Batt.: Lt. Col. Patrick Rahl
 4th Batt.: Lt. Col. Donovan O'Leary
A disproportionate number of the Rangers' 'Mechs come from TharDef production lines, to the point that there are rumors the regimental quartermaster gets first pick of every production run.

Tharkad Rangers Aerospace Wing (Veteran/Fanatical/A)
CO: Wing Commander Peter Lords

Tharkad Rangers Armored Infantry Regiment (Veteran/Fanatical/A)
CO: Colonel Lord Frederick Proctor-Steiner

[Steve]

So, this is very much a Work in Progress, as not every old player is interested in rehashing things, and the fact different conflicts all had different threads and the quarters/timing wasn't always listed makes it hard to reconstruct some of the specific timing on the "in-game" conflict in the timeframe before I joined.  But for those of you wondering about this crazy AU and not willing to read all the threads yourself, here's a Timeline I've been assembling with a bit of input here and there.



Concertverse Timeline 2777-3142



2777: SLDF assaults Terra.  During operations to secure Moscow, Amaris forces set off tactical-scale atomic devices that destroy several SLDF units and claim the life of Commanding General Aleksandr Kerensky.

2777-2820: DeChavalier completes the liberation of Terra, executes Amaris and his family.  Council Lords refuse to recognize him as Kerensky's successor, summon their troops in the SLDF home.  Appoint Jerome Blake as head of communications.  Remnant SLDF forces secure Terra and the core of the old Hegemony, Terran provisional government names DeChavalier as Director-General of the Terran Hegemony against his preference.  SLDF skirmishes with House armies, forced to withdraw to inner defense lines, repulse House Kurita invasion of Dieron.

1st Succession War breaks out toward end of late 2780s.  DeChavalier declares neutrality and focuses on continued rebuilding.  Not wanting to provoke his skilled remaining forces, House Lords leave him alone.

Terrans reorganize state into Terran Union; Director-General firmly military-only rank, but can effectively become dictator if needed (or if not).  Jerome Blake organizes ComStar to provide continued HPG operation to rest of the Inner Sphere, becomes major supporter of Terran government.


*WIP for remaining gap*


3030: Second Age of War begins as Successor States commence expansion into unclaimed systems.  First Skye War begins with surprise attack by Defiance-Hesperus Consolidant and Interstellar Governments Council against Skye itself.

3031: First Skye War escalates and expands with Kingdom of Donegal intervening on behalf of Skye Republic, invading Consolidant.  The Gray Death Legion, hired by the Consolidant, launches an attack on under-defended Donegal in reprisal, sacking key centers on the planet.  Sensing weakness, the Kingdom of Cajamarca (former FWL state) and Marik Commonwealth both commence invasions of Consolidant worlds.  By the end of the year the Kingdom of Ghastillia joined forces with Skye and Donegal while the Communal League of Sudeten became an associated co-belligerent of the Consolidant and IGC, invading Donegal's systems.  In keeping with the theme of sudden descents upon capital systems, Ghastillian and Donegal forces struck at Hesperus directly in the final months of the year.

*WIP for 3030-3032*

3033: First Skye War ends.  Interstellar Governments Council and Federal Star Republic of Skye destroyed.  Terrans force ceasefire on belligerents.  Marik Commonwealth considered the main winner, having seized a slice of important worlds from the Consolidant and much of the former IGC, as well as detaching a client state at Zion.  Marian invasion of Bolan, First Outback War.

3034: Fall of Bolan and Bolan Rettungsaktion.  First Outback War Ends with destruction of Duchy of Vicente and negotiated peace among other participants.  War of Rasalhaguan Unification begins with Hartshill Federal Alliance and McAllister Shogunate invasion of Principality of Rasalhague, including naval strike and blockade of Rasalhague itself.

Second Skye War: Azami and Marik forces invade Consolidant, besiege Summer, Skye, and Marik sweeps up multiple Consolidant worlds.  New Commonwealth forces move forward to assist.  After invading Zion and making a diplomatic deal, Harsefeld and Oriente betray planned partition of Zion with Marik Commonwealth, launch naval attack on Atreus shipyards and full-scale invasion of Marik worlds.  Diplomatic efforts result in formation of Lyran Alliance: Arcadian Free March invades Campbelton, Coriscana, Midkiff, and Autumn Wind, Arcadian/Consolidant/Commonwealth naval units smash Marik destroyers at Campbelton.  Donegalan and Ghastillian forces surprise Marik by siding with new Lyran Alliance.

3035: Concord continues Periphery campaign, overwhelms Tortuga Dominions.

Rasalhague War/War of Rasalhaguan Unification:
COMINTERSTEL intervenes in Rasalhague war, launches invasion of McAllister Shogunate, Rengo Directorate interferes and sustains naval damage interfering in Rasalhague Commune invasion force, but the Gothi of the Commune continues the invasion anyway while the damaged Rengo fleet returns for repairs.  Galedon commences full-scale invasion of Rengo Directorate, taking advantage of Rengo naval losses.  Invasion of McAllister fails due to reinforcements, leads to loss of invading COMINTERSTEL forces, but Shogunate and Federal Alliance are forced to give up many Principality of Rasalhague worlds they'd conquered.

Second Skye War:
Marik morale collapses, the Azami sue for peace and gain a few worlds on strength of new diplomatic alliance with Federated Suns, Tikonov, Brethren of the Stars, and Harsefeld.  Lyran troops pour into Marik Commonwealth while Arcadian, Marian, and Rim Commonality forces seize parts of collapsing Kingdom of Cajamarca.  By the end of the year the Marik Commonwealth is broken down to just Atreus and Solaris holdouts.

War of Capellan Unification:
With the Mariks broken, Harsefeld and the Brethen of the Stars commenced a full-scale invasion of the Capellan Hegemony.  The Capellans, knowing their state was doomed, nevertheless inflict serious damage on the Brethren by destroying their naval yard complex at St. Ives in a daring raid.  Capellan democrats and Hegemony loyalists prepare to flee into exile as an alternative to surrender or capture.

(Another part coming next post)

[Steve]

So I was just going to post the rest of the timeline as written, but I found myself turning a quick plan to fill in the gap from 3036 to 3039 into a detailed explanation of what happened.  This is still all in-game stuff, of course, so it's not story things I developed, though it reflects my representation of the facts.  It's also possible that after a year I've forgotten some bits of timing here and there, maybe even a key event (though I'm sure I got them all).  If any player finds mistakes corrections will be made.

This also includes a tidbit of post-game stuff, up to the end of the first decade of the Second Age of War.  The game officially ended in late 3038.  I'll mark where the "Steve's future extrapolation" kicks in.


3036:

Ex-League Space
The Second Skye War draws to a close in the early months as the remaining Marik Commonwealth holdouts on Atreus and Solaris succumb to overwhelming force.  The remaining worlds of the Commonwealth declare for one or another of the victorious states.  Dickinson goes to Oriente, Bedeque ultimately picks the Free March (after numerous bribes), and the worlds around Atreus not yet occupied by Arcadian troops accept Free March control with the fall of Atreus.

At the same time, with Corvus O'Reilly having become Imperator after a sudden riot turned into an outright rebellion against his tyrant nephew Sean, the Marian Hegemony invades the Grand Duchy of Tamarind, the last remaining minor power in League space.  Using recently-recovered "black box" technology to execute a coordinated campaign without HPG use, the Hegemony swiftly overwhelms the Duchy in a six month campaign.  Arcadian troops fresh from the conquest of Atreus rush to Labouchere which, confronted with the imminent fall of Tamarind, agrees to transfer to Arcadian sovereignty along with the 3rd Tamarind Guards, whom are redubbed the Tamarind Rangers under Arcadian command, and the WarShip Arjun.

With this success giving him needed prestige, Corvus pursues a reformation of the Hegemony, transforming it into the Corvid Principate, with one reform in particular that barely passes the Senate and enrages many of the patricians as well as Niops' scientist class; the outlawing of all forms of slavery.  Though it passes by only one vote Corvus' control of the state is sufficient to begin immediate abolition enforcement.  While this does not defuse all dislike and suspicion of the reformed Alphard state, it removes the singlest strongest element of contention that drove hostility with Arcadia.  Corvus moves to regularize relations with the Arcadians, and for good reason.

By this point, warfare breaks out at the other corner of former League space in the following quarter with a massive Canopian surprise attack on Andurien, destroying or capturing several constructing Andurien ships and landing significant forces on the capital itself while other outlying worlds fall.  Andurien, having spent years recovering from its near conquest in the First Andurien War, appeals for aid.

It comes from a surprising quarter; their former would-be conquerers.  Harsefeld, Oriente, and the Brethren throw their support to Andurien, despite Oriente accepting two worlds from Canopian control as part of a partition deal negotiated secretly before the attack.  The three powers openly intervene on Andurien's side with the Harsefeld war fleet arriving at Andurien to force the Canopian ships away and blockade their troops on-planet for reinforcements to smash.

But the Compact powers don't stop there.  As the Canopians were newly aligned with the Hegemony-turned-Principate, Grand Duchess Eris Halas, her groom-to-be King Jonah Allison-Liao, and Jonah's half-brother King Alexander Allison (Harsefeld held a dual monarchy at this point, though Jonah was due to inherit due to his Liao heritage) decided it was time to decisively deal with the threat they felt from Alphard's alliance.  Oriente's fleet did not go to Canopus or to Andurien but to Tematagi, the capital of the Rim Commonality, where in a fierce battle the battlecruiser Golden Apple, Eris' recently completed flagship, and her escorts broke the Rim fleet, destroying multiple destroyer and frigate-sized WarShips and the incomplete cruiser in the Rim shipyards, as well as severely damaging arriving Principate WarShips, the bulk of the Principate's own fleet being out of position to give any aid due to hunting down Tamarind's last destroyer.  Though the Apple itself was severely damaged and would spend months in repair yards, and most of her escorts were lost, the Battle of Tematagi dictated the pace of the rest of the war, giving naval superiority to the Harsefeld-Oriente alliance across the entire front.

Following this outcome, Oriente troops launched several offensives into Rim territory to conquer worlds and break Rim troop formations, so as to prepare for the coming onslaught of Principate Legions fresh from the conquest of Tamarind.  The Legions did indeed arrive, a number of them bypassing the front to strike at New Olympia, Nova Roma, and Asellus Australis, seizing all three major worlds from Oriente by the end of the year due to the relative paucity of their garrisons.

Canopus' marshaled naval forces manage to counter-attack in the Andurien-system long enough to extract their troops, which commence raids on Harsefeld and Oriente targets.  Their foes have a greater prize in mind, though; under the guns of Harsefeld's cruisers, Andurien's remaining regiments land on Canopus itself and, by the end of the year, overwhelm and conquer the planet.  Magestrix Kyalla Centrella is killed in a last stand, and her daughter Emma, away with the army lifted from Andurien, is named Magestrix.  Canopus' bid to break Andurien power and grow stronger at their expense was a failure.

Outside of the war, at the end of the year Grand Duchess Eris Halas and King Jonah Allison-Liao wed on Oriente, establishing the basis for the future union of their realms.

Lyran Space
Queen Rachel Steiner of Donegal undergoes tests that confirm the reoccurence of her cancer.  With doctors affirming remission is unlikely and that her life span will not last much longer, she begins quiet consideration for the future while allowing her cousin, Klaus Steiner of the Cameron-Donegal Steiner line, to assume duties as regent.  Klaus completes Donegal's diplomatic absorption of the Duchy of Buckminster, which is divided with the Defiance-Hesperus Consolidant.

Archon Katrina Steiner recalls her troops from the front and continues consolidation of her borders up to the Rift Republic, where Loki and Lohengrin operatives quietly begin undermining local political institutions to pave the way for Commonwealth conquest.

The Rim Empire collapses into civil war.  Ghastillia moves in to seize control, but Sudeten-backed revolutionaries resist and declare the formation of the Peoples' Republic of the Rim.  Threatened with COMINTERSTEL intervention Ghastillia agrees to accept only the former capital of Kwangjong-ji and a couple other worlds by plebiscite and permit the Republic to remain intact.

The Arcadian Free March, having peacefully annexed by treaty the key worlds of Dixie and Loric, and with the Marik Commonwealth collapsed and breaking apart, commences negotiations for a major constitutional reformation, as its current government structure is too overburdened by the tripling of its size in the span of less than four years.  The reformation created the Royal Federation, with March-Princess Sara-Marie proclaimed High Queen of the Federation (after extensive disputes and debates about the monarchial title to be adopted).


Rasalhague/Kuritan Space:

With Galedon having knocked the Rengoites out of the war, Hartshill and McAllister were facing gradual defeat at the unified armies of COMINTERSTEL, Tamar, and the Rasalhague Principality.  Fighting delaying actions, and drawn into a major battle on Avon, they countered by allying with the United Outworlds Republic, pledging support should the UOR be invaded by Galedon in exchange for a major UOR commitment to the war.  With a command circuit formed from Quatre Bell and Alpheratz to the front, sixteen UOR 'Mech regiments and attached brigades smashed a counterattack in Hartshill space flat and opened the way for the Shogunate and HFA to commence major countermoves of their own.

Galedon put an end to their plans.

To secure UOR support, the Shogunate offered a similar pledge against Galedon to the Solar Union in exchange for not exploiting the situation to invade the UOR.  Instead of accepting, the government of Chancellor Cavanaugh revealed the offer to Director Masako.  Enraged at what she saw as a betrayal of her pledges of non-involvement to the Shogunate, Masako decided to unleash her forces on them instead, while her Concord allies would attack the UOR alongside the Solar Union, now offered a part in their alliance.  She signaled her intentions to Hartshill, offering them a chance to survive if they stood down and left their allies to die.

They did more than that.  As a means to show support for the Galedon-Concord alliance, the HFA's fleets signaled an order to the admiral of their forces escorting the UOR troops.  Upon their return to their JumpShips to rush home to defend their worlds, the Hartshill ships opened fire; in the space of but minutes, the cream of the Outworlds' army was annihilated helplessly in space, dooming the UOR to conquest by their neighbors.  Aghast at the scope of this betrayal, the Queen of Hartshill had her Prime Minister arrested for going behind her back, but she did not repudiate the agreement.  Hartshill would live, at the sufferance of Director Masako Honda; their Shogunate allies would die.

And die they did, as Galedon invaded and overwhelmed them on multiple worlds, using their powerful fleet to blockade the Shogunate's troops on Avon for an inevitable Rasalhaguan counterattack to obliterate them.  The Shogunate's leadership, not wishing to suffer Masako's wrath, opted to flee with all they could save, and in a daring naval strike, sacrificed their remaining WarShips to extricate their surviving regiments from Avon, succeeding in the operation (and causing the public, personal execution of the commanding admiral at Masako's own hand).

The Rasalhague Commune completed its victory on Avon, destroying the remaining Shogunate troops, and went on to invade the Shogunate capital of Pesht once more.  Mistaking militia positions for dug-in elite troops, the Rasalhaguan naval commander unleashed an orbital bombardment that utterly annihilated the militia and caused extensive damage to the planet, shocking and disgusting the Inner Sphere at the callousness of the act.  The Commune made some public commitments to rebuilding, though privately many held it a fitting end to punish those who sought to conquer Rasalhague.  Meanwhile every effort was made to locate the surviving Shogun and his troops and wipe them out to the last.  By the end of the year they were located on Irian, where they'd been given sanctuary by Harsefeld in exchange for service in Harsefeld's armies.  Preparations were made to send the fleet and troops to extirpate the Shogunate.

Davion Space:
With the Solar Union's decision to back the powerful Galedon-Concord bloc, with Kilbourne's reluctant acceptance, and the following choice to partition the United Outworlds Republic, the truce that ended the FIrst Outback War was broken.  The resulting conflict was some bloodshed, given the defensive efforts of the surviving UOR forces, but with their best troops slaughtered by the very nation they'd gone off to aid, the UOR had nothing but to die hard.  Their advanced corvettes and an incomplete cruiser rushed from the shipyard managed to bloody the nose of the Concord, but the outcome of the war was not in doubt.  At year's end the Concord offered a generous rebuilding package and mercy if they would surrender, a surrender that would be accepted at the start of the following year.

Capellan Space:
Rogue Brethren pirate troops, enraged at the Capellan Hegemony's audacity to hit St. Ives and their resistance, launched a brutal sack of Sarna that devastated the world before departing with stolen loot.

While the Second Andurien War broke out, the Brethren and Harsefeld continued their conquest of the Hegemony.  They learned, too late, of the Hegemony leadership's evacuation of their capital, and an effort to find the fleet failed before their WarShips were re-devoted to other tasks.  Capella itself fell last, a campaign that took the entire year as the Capellan Hegemony's remaining troops and diehards fought savagely to resist the Harsefeld troops and the reimposition of the caste system and other old Capellan systems on their democratic world.  Harsefeld's fleet suffered damage from ground-based fire but managed to secure the landings, though they came under scrutiny yet again for a missed bombardment shot that atomized a town of tens of thousand of residents.  At the end of the year, the Hegemony's capital finally fell after fierce urban fighting, and Harsefeld was free to redeploy its troops to the Second Andurien War, having successfully completed the destruction of the anti-Liaoist Hegemony and asserted the Royal Protectorate as the one true successor state of the old Capellan Confederation and of Capellan nationhood.  All that remained of the old leadership were those who fled successfully to, as it turned out, Canopus, though they lost much of their material on the way, including one of their prize cruisers, due to wear and tear and battle damage.


3037:

Lyran/League Space:

Just after New Year's, the formal coronation of Sara-Marie Proctor as High Queen of the Royal Federation was held, with Grand Duchess Eris Halas, Consul Livia O'Reilly, and First Prince Ian Davion among attendees.  Sara-Marie would meet with a number of the visitors before they departed.  As they did so, all noted that the military units that participated in the coronation parade were burning out as well.

For good reason.

By the end of January 3037, the armies of the Lyran states were in motion. Troops and ships from the Royal Federation and Defiance-Hesperus Consolidant, with backup from the Kingdom of Donegal, launched Operation INGRATITUDE, a large-scale invasion of the Royal Protectorate of Harsefeld and the Grand Duchy of Oriente.  They swept through the former Marik Commonwealth worlds held by both states, seizing many of them and blockading the newly-arrived Shogunate survivors on Irian.  Arcadian ships, combining with the Principate's cruiser and other forces, launched a deep raid on New Delos in the hopes of catching the Golden Apple there, but it had already been moved, and all they could accomplish was the seizing of the shipyards.

Harsefeld, in the middle of transferring troops to the Rim front, adjusted swiftly with interior lines, dispatching the bulk of their armies towards the Lyran front instead while relying on Brethren naval forces to help pin down Principate/Rim forces.  This adjustment also led to the capture of two raiding Canopian commands, though the others continued to smash garrisons and topple worlds across the rear areas.  Meanwhile Harsefeld and Oriente leaders sounded out the Principate for a truce and an offer to jointly attack the Lyrans, but it was soon clear this was not simple opportunism; the Lyran states were openly siding with the Principate in the war, a strategic shock to the Compact leadership who had counted on continued Lyran, and particularly Arcadian, animosity towards the Principate to keep the Periphery power strategically isolated.  Indeed, to ensure the loyalty of Arcadia's Bolanese exiles, a territorial exchange was negotiated, with Bolan and Tamarind being turned over to the Royal Federation in exchange for Cajamarca, capital of the Principate's fallen allies.

Meanwhile the Harsefeld counterattack landed squarely on the Consolidant, pinning several key units on Marik and destroying a Consolidant destroyer-carrier in orbit, as well as taking out an Arcadian 'Mech regiment on Surundo.  In the following months the overwhelming force on Marik would destroy the Consolidant units, including leaving Royal Black Watch CO Frederick Steiner MIA, as reinforcements were not forced through due to the Harsefeld-Oriente alliance's returning cruisers making a naval action at Marik too great a risk by the judgement of commanders.  Their fleet forces were freed up, at least, as by arrangement, the Rasalhaguan forces arrived at Irian and completed their revenge, utterly destroying the Shogunate survivors before withdrawing from the planet, which would fall shortly thereafter to the Consolidant.

The arrival of Ghastillia's restored Star League cruiser, the Maeve, to support the joint Lyran-Principate fleet restored some naval power balance.  Lyran forces were too late to catch Harsefeld's troops on Marik, who evacuated before the counterattack could land, though the planet fell quickly.  Harsefeld turned to mobile ops, using their naval assets to ensure local superiority on two or three worlds to crush Lyran units, refusing to attack where they could not gain such superiority.

This only staunched the bleeding slightly, however.  The Principate, using its large transport fleet, flooded Oriente territory with its reservist Limitanei troops. While garrison quality themselves, these legions had the mass to smash Oriente and Harsefeld garrison units, and did so repeatedly, their capture of Oriente worlds creating a crisis for Grand Duchess Eris.  The Compact's naval power, though superior, couldn't be everywhere at once, and for every Limitanei legion caught in space and forced to surrender at gunpoint, two or three would seize another world.

The Brethren fleet expanded the naval superiority of the Compact by providing critical reinforcements to allow a tactical victory at Nullarbor, leaving the bulk of the Commonality army pinned for destruction by Compact troops.  They settled for evacuation, however, as warning came from Harsefeld intelligence that the Principate-Lyran fleet assembled on that front were descending on Nullarbor and would overwhelm them, thus preserving the Rim Commonality's army.

With Canopus' insurgents only months from defeat, Magestrix Emma meanwhile convinced her allies to commit to a dangerous gamble, and with what naval forces could be scrounged up and her remaining troops, they returned to Canopus, blasted through the now-thin naval defenses of the Compact, and gained enough of a hold on the world to bring the insurgents back into line service and threaten Andurien's army with destruction.  Further up on the Lyran front, Principate and Arcadian forces secured New Delos itself and seized several other worlds in the heart of Harsefeld space, though without naval cover an assault on Harsefeld itself, or Oriente, was deemed too dangerous.

Two members of the Lyran Alliance, the New Commonwealth and the Kingdom of Ghastillia, had yet to be involved in the war (outside of the Ghastillians hiring out the Maeve and her battle group), as they were busy conquering the Rift Republic.  The campaign went as many did when two stronger Successor States descended upon a weaker, and the Rift's pleas for aid went unheard; all it could do was die hard, and it fought to do so.

Aid for the Compact came from their remaining allies, however: the Azami and Tikonov conducted major invasions of Donegalian and Consolidant territory, striking at Summer, Skye, and Vega, and Buckminster.  Vega fell and the other worlds resulted in vicious fights, with the 4th and 17th Skye Rangers destroyed in the ransacking of Summer and Skye likewise suffering damage, though TIkonov's forces endured significant losses on both worlds.  With this new front opened, Donegal and the Consolidant rushed troops back, and the Arcadians prepared to withdraw to former Marik Commonwealth territory, though not before wiring the extensive shipyards of New Delos for demolition.

This fact was not lost on Harsefeld.  Nor could the Compact ignore that in the coming year Principate naval forces would be reinforced by new construction back at Alphard, as well as repairs completed on the former Capellan cruiser in Canopian hands and captured Andurien ships.  In short, the naval balance would start shifting in the coming year once more, and with the Rift Republic almost conquered, the troops of the New Commonwealth and Ghastilia would be coming up as reinforcements. Oriente's economy was suffering from all the lost worlds as well.

On the other hand, the Compact had a number of advantages.  They still held naval superiority, Canopus' stability as a government was reeling, and the Azami and Tikonov were primed to commence a larger campaign in Lyran space.  The Federated Suns was likewise free to get involved with their victory over the Peripheral Union, and neither of the other blocs were threatening them to stay out, at least for now.  And Arcadia's troops were now vulnerable to destruction as their naval cover was either rushing towards Skye or towards Nullarbor.  Additionally the Golden Apple's repairs were mostly complete and she was free to return to the front, throwing ever more naval power back on the Compact's side for the time being.

With the war poised to escalate, and both sides having reason to worry for how things might go, Prince Ian Davion stepped in to suggest a truce and a peace.  Negotiations via ComStar were carried out and the result was a three year peace treaty, with minor territorial concessions by the Compact in exchange for the Lyran and Principate withdrawals from several dozen captured worlds, one world transferring to the Azami, and Andurien's neutrality and protection being pledged.  Oriente would, however, regain all the worlds lost to the Arcadians, but as Arcadia suffered the least of the Lyran powers, it accepted no official gain, though it would take control over Marik, Irian, and other nearby worlds ceded on behalf of the Consolidant, which was dealing with political fallout from the perceived abandonment of the troops on Marik.

Thus the Second Andurien War ended, with a major political shift as the Lyran and Principate-led alliances were clearly unified in limiting the power of the Compact… and Grand Duchess Eris left with a permanent, life-long hatred for the "perfidious" Proctors.

Davion Space:

The Federated Suns executed Operation TITAN, invading the pariah state of the Peripheral Union, starting with a large scale operation to reclaim the former Capellan March capital of New Syrtis along with other border systems and find and destroy the Iron Maiden, a former SLDF battleship that was the focus of the Union's navy and responsible for the bombardment of Birqash in 3033.  The Union, led by a militant anti-Davion government, ordered the battleship to respond to the attack by bombarding Wernke and Talon, current home of the exiled Haseks, but the Federated Suns fleet caught them and with long range fire wore down the ship enough that a daring boarding mission allowed its capture.  The Hyades Rim Republic executed its own nearly-bloodless invasion, having tricked their former allies into focusing everything towards FedSuns territory and letting them hire the mercenary garrisons for the worlds on their common border, whom promptly surrendered the worlds to the HRR upon contact.

Though they defiantly held some worlds, the Union was doomed, and by October it had surrendered completely, a couple of its worlds falling to the United Hindu Collective but most going to the Federated Suns or Hyades Rim Republic.

Meanwhile, the Filtvelt Coalition suffered the fate of their former allies in the United Outworlds Republic, being invaded and partitioned by the Concord, Solar Union, and Kilborne Commonwealth.  The Guitterezes and their surviving ships and troops fled to the Federated Suns, who made the family rulers of the new Periphery March out of the former Union capital of Warren, a spit in the eye at their aggressive neighbors as relations between the Concord and Federated Suns continued to sour.

3038:

With Prince Ian's Peace and the fall of Filtvelt and the Union, peace was maintained across the entirety of the Inner Sphere… mostly, as the Rift Republic breathed its last.

Given the new strategic realities faced, and the damage from the war, Oriente and Harsefeld stepped up their timetables for union.  Their realms were declared merged, forming the Oriento-Capellan Empire, with Jonah and Eris declared Emperor and Empress.  As a form of celebration for this, they ordered their forces to Regulus, where at the threat of attack they compelled ComStar to cede the world to the Empire in exchange for local concessions.  This was a shock to the rest of the Inner Sphere; while there were rumors ComStar was considering allowing local Successor States to reclaim the worlds they administered by purchase (the remaining being Kentares, Luthien, Sian, and Tharkad), this blunt aggression seemed a calculated slap to the face of the Terran Union.

Nor did the new Empire forget the stinging insult of the Lyran intervention.  Maskirovka hired the legendary Bounty Hunter to find and extract Frederick Steiner from Marik, intending to foment anti-Brewer rebellions and enable the easy conquest of the Consolidant once the peace had run its course.

They soon found another front to strike at.  Faced with threatened uprisings against their rule in the former Kingdom of Cajamarca, the Royal Federation decided to consolidate by releasing the worlds, although secretly it made a deal with the Principate, who would absorb the planets and relinquish a like number of Bolanese systems.  While four were taken this way, three suddenly requested admission to the Empire before any legions could arrive, and the Empire immediately accepted, warning that it would regard any attack on these worlds as a breaking of the peace treaty and all penalties demanded be enacted.  In one stroke they had three worlds astride the lines of communication between their enemies, and while they were barred from sending troops to them, they arranged mercenary garrisons and made preparations to rush troops to the worlds when the treaty expired.

Developments in Donegalian politics opened the possibility for the marriage of Prince Thomas Proctor to Lady Johanna Steiner, of some potential controversy given that Johanna was one of the few disinherited Steiners whom were believed to be on Queen Rachel's list of approved heirs, though due to her lifelong fears of acknowledging an heir (as she was infertile due to medical condition) leading to civil war, Rachel was still refusing to revoke the disinheritance decree she'd forced on all her relatives.

***Post-Game Begins Here: ***

Nor was peace going to last elsewhere.  With the Shogunate destroyed, the two Rasalhaguan states committed to unification, and with Sudeten and Tamar, resumed planning to assault the Oberon Confederation.  Likewise the Brethren and the Federated Suns made ready to attack the Hyades Rim Republic and their minor ally, the Jaipur Empire, due to the HRR's attempts to undermine them in prior campaigns and to complete FedSun Restorationist aims.

But the most unexpected threat to peace came in Lyran space.  Klaus Steiner, consulting the dying Queen Rachel, agreed to approve the long-awaited march of Lady Johanna Steiner to Prince Thomas Proctor of Arcadia.  While this alone would not have caused such controversy (though it was still quite a shock and provoked anger), Rachel made a private decision to reinstate Johanna's inheritance rights, allowing her to legally become Queen of Donegal.  A decree was drawn up to that effect and signed, but in November Rachel died from a complication of her cancer, and the posthumous revelation of the decree was angrily opposed by partisans of exiled Arthur Luvon, husband to the New Commonwealth's Archon Katrina Steiner and head of the dreaded Loki intelligence organization.  Luvon declared the decree suspect and his wife accused the Arcadians of forging it to secure Donegal for themselves, while the Arcadians strenuously denied this allegation.  As the year ended, grins were certainly in season on Oriente and Harsefeld, as the Lyran Alliance was coming apart.

3039:
On 14 February Prince Thomas Proctor wedded Heiress-Designate Johanna Steiner on Donegal.  Shortly afterward, upon winning a close vote in the Estates-General, Johanna was crowned Queen of Donegal.  The New Commonwealth withdrew its ambassador in protest, but has more in mind to deal with the situation.

On 15 March 3039, Johanna and Thomas present themselves to the Estates-General for a general session.  The meeting proceeded swiftly, as a Legitimist ally failed to provide a desired objection to delay them, which means the two left the chamber a mere two minutes before bombs planted by Loki agents could go off, killing many of the assembled delegates and visitors including Thomas' father Consort-Prince Thomas.  Within the hour system defense officers reported emergence signatures at two pirate points, and soon it was confirmed as an invasion force: the Gray Death Legion and Kell Hounds leading an NCAF task force to seize and consolidate control of Donegal in Arthur Luvon's name.  Thomas rallied the Arcadian Guards, on-world to participate in ceremonies for his marriage, and Johanna won over the Defenders of Donegal brigade despite their disenchantment with House Steiner, while her loyalist forces of the reformed 2nd Donegal Guards surged from their bases.  The NCAF forces landed under a hail of fire, commencing the start of the War of Donegalian Succession and splitting the Lyran Alliance apart.

The Defiance-Hesperus Consolidant and Kingdom of Ghastillia declared neutrality swiftly, though the former extracted the restoration of Marik, Irian, and the other worlds taken in the Second Andurien War in exchange for continued purchasing rights from Defiance.

On the other side of the Inner Sphere, the Federated Suns and Brethren of the Stars invaded the Hyades Rim Republic and Jaipur Empire.  Shortly thereafter, as punishment for Regulus the prior year, the Terrans snatched Frederick Steiner from Oriento-Capellan custody with an intelligence operation.  The Empire retaliated two months later by invading Sian, prompting a Terran counter-invasion centered on Harsefeld before the year was out.



(P.S. I think we almost drove Slacker insane trying to mod the Second Andurien War...)

[Steve]

31 - Diving Falcons, Defiant Hawks

Mannelbourg Township
Timkovichi, Coventry Province
Lyran Commonwealth (disputed)
16 January 3143


With a heart hammering with fear and fury, Second Lieutenant Alexander Thomas - Lance B, Assault Company, Second Battalion, Second Royal Cuirassiers BattleMech Regiment - pushed his Firehawk OmniMech through the rubble of the Mannelbourg Burghaus and cleared the targeting picture of the Jade Falcon Jade Hawk tracking his lancemate's limping Chieftain.  The winged heavy 'Mech was painted in the colors of the Fourth Falcon Dragoons, or so his identifier systems told him, making it the Cluster that was the target of the Second Battalion's flanking maneuver to relieve the Mannelbourg defenders.

With his firing lines clear his Firehawk's targeting computer calculated a firing point for his surviving weapons in time with the hard lock tone, though how reliably it could guide them given the damaged system he wasn't sure.  His machine was too battered from the day's fighting for him to pass up the shot though.

He was rewarded with mixed results, drawing a curse as his remaining six-shot Streak SRM system refused to fire, insisting its lock had failed.  The four medium lasers on his torso, and the surviving PPC on his left arm, did their work, however, carving armor in prodigious quantities from the winged Clanner 'Mech's side while one of the emerald beams of his lasers sliced the damaged right arm off with the precision of a surgeon.  Had the other machine been mounting any ammunition in that side of its savaged torso, it would have detonated.

At his side, Lieutenant Kani Ortiz's Firehawk engaged, though not his foe but a second Falcon 'Mech moving up the street, a Loki that didn't take well to the twin rotary autocannons on Ortiz's 'Mech tearing into its torso, the stream of 80mm shells fired from the whirling weapons chewing through armor and structural steel with brute power.  Coolant and smoke erupted from wounds on the machine.  The pilot, with that maddening skill the Clanners seemed to have in spades, ignored what had to be the severe heat spike filling his machine to counter with pulse laser fire that melted through the barrels of one of the offending autocannons, taking it out of the fight.

Thomas's own foe showed the same poise.  Even with half their 'Mech battered, they showed no hesitation in changing targets, sending missiles into his own machine that put paid to his surviving PPC, tearing the left arm off at the shoulder and scouring much of the remaining armor from the left side of the chest.  He bit back a curse; he was down to his four medium-caliber ER lasers and his surviving Streak launcher, and the Jade Hawk's melee weapon loomed as the pilot rushed the final meters between them, its claw raised and coming in for a blow.  It took his whole concentration to make his assault machine shift to the right, causing one claw to miss and the other to rake across what was left of his left arm's shoulder, tearing the surviving bits of actuator lose.  With his capacitors having cycled again, he fired another round of shots from his medium lasers.  Four successive beams of emerald traced burn lines across the arm and side of the enemy machine.

Spouts of flame erupted from above the Jade Hawk's shoulders and along its sides.  Twenty-four short range missiles crossed the distance swiftly, all but six hitting.  Heat warnings screamed from hits to the shielding of his machine's extra-large engine.  His indicators showed two lasers go out and his targeting system shifted to basic mode, indicating his targeting computer was another victim of the barrage.  Red and orange color banded the three-dimensional likeness of his 'Mech at the corner of his holotank display, reflecting enormous damage to the rest of his skeleton and remaining strips of armor.  My machine's a wreck.  Desperately he wrenched his targeting controls, moving the reticle over the enemy 'Mech without the benefit of the targeting computer's pinpoint guidance.  His finger tensed while four ruby beams struck out, melting away much of the remaining armor over his 'Mech's heart and head module.  In retaliation, two emerald beams cut away at the Falcon machine, leaving more molten gobs to dribble from the ruined surface of the winged jade monster, but causing nothing more severe.

It was a good thing that this time his Streak launcher confirmed its lock.

The missile launcher, untouched by enemy fire, spat six missiles that corkscrewed over the distance of barely a dozen meters and struck home on the Jade Hawk, each and every one blasting armor away.  One of the missiles in particular, the most important one of them all, flew higher than the others and struck dead center of the square of clear armored ferro-glass that covered the Jade Hawk's cockpit.  The warhead went off, shattering the glass and blowing it inward.  The Falcon 'Mech tipped over on its side, lifeless.

He turned his machine towards the Loki, aiming to help Ortiz, but found it was unnecessary as he was treated to the sight of a squad from the Fifty-Sixth Royal Foot Regiment tearing up the 'Mech in their MBA-3 Wolverine battle suits, employing with gusto the battle claws that gave the fearsome battle armor suit its name.

A cry of "It's got a lock on me!" came over the radio.  He turned towards Lieutenant Kier Macklin's Chieftain, whom he thought to be clear from trouble.  The sight before him proved him wrong.  The ninety ton 'Mech was virtually helpless given the sheer damage and a second Jade Hawk's claws were busy ripping its torso open.  Smoke billowed from the machine's wounds, revealing debilitating engine damage.

"Mackie, bail!" Thomas cried, too late.

The missiles on the enemy machine fired to full effect.  The blasts of flame and steel sent burnt metal flying away from the broken frame of the bipedal 'Mech.  The exposure of its engine space was complete and the Falcon MechWarrior pitilessly reached in and raked wicked talons through the fusion engine itself, slicing clear fuel lines and shielding.  The Chieftain collapsed onto its rear, defeated.  Ignoring the wailing alerts of his own savaged 'Mech, Thomas twisted his machine and sought a targeting lock, hoping he might get a shot off…

…before the Jade Hawk's foot came down right on the Chieftain's head, smashing the cockpit — and Thomas' friend and Ayrshire classmate — in the blink of an eye.

Murdering bastard!  Thomas's fingers tensed instinctively on his weapons, driving his heat up again over that produced by the damaged engine.  He got the lock he needed, but only three missiles struck home, and even hits from his lasers did naught but a bit of armor damage.

It also announced to the enemy pilot he had a new foe.  He turned towards Thomas, his machine still mostly intact, and Thomas knew he was doomed.

"Fall back, Bravo-Three, fall back!"  The order corresponded with twin horizontal lightning bolts crashing home on the Jade Hawk, aimed precisely for its missile launchers.  Both of the over-shoulder weapons blew apart from the hits, robbing the deadly machine of half of its missile battery.

"Glad you could make it, Lance Loo," Ortiz said over the radio, prompting Thomas's attention to her machine.  She was in better shape than him, though still missing half her firepower and with the right reverse-jointed knee of her 'Mech sparking from a partial hit.

Their commander, First Lieutenant Nathan Abramov, moved into Thomas's view, coming from the left while Thomas reversed his machine, his speed sluggish given the engine damage.  Abramov's Firehawk was a newer FHK-2 model, with a smaller improved XL engine and ferro-fibrous armor.  Aside from the missing right arm and visible armor damage his machine was still quite intact, and a more formidable opponent for the rampaging Jade Hawk.  The platoon of Wolverine battle armor with him, some clinging to the Firehawk while others were jumping or running down the abandoned street, would further tilt the fight in his favor.

The enemy pilot realized it too, also presumably recognizing that his comrades were all down.  The winged 'Mech took the air, jump jets roaring in plumes of blue plasma from their apertures on the back and legs.  With his systems messed up Thomas had no way of getting a lock.  Ortiz did, her surviving rotary autocannon roaring away without effect while twin streams of emerald needles pierced the sky, striking armor from the retreating enemy machine.  Thomas swore in frustration, knowing that even if his lancemates or another got that fleeing pilot, he wouldn't be part of it.

"Bravo-Three, Bravo-Four, head back for repair."

"Sir, the entire battalion's still moving on the counterattack."  Ortiz's complaint prompted Alexander to check the larger map display to his side.  The Assault Company, indeed all of Second Battalion, were moving ahead alongside armored mechanized infantry of the Fifty-Sixth Royal Foot and the tanks of the Fifteenth Royal Armored, striking into the flank of one of the Jade Falcon "Clusters" as it pressed back Third Battalion and its attached support, the mixed mercenaries and what was left of Timkovichi's Armored Guard formation.  The maneuver, moreso, seemed to be working well, his lance's difficulties notwithstanding.  They'd just put down four enemy 'Mechs at the cost of just one of their own, after all, even if his machine and Ortiz's were battered to the point of uselessness.

Abramov's voice brooked no discussion.  "I'm aware of that, Bravo-Three.  My order stands."

Disappointment aside, that meant there was nothing to discuss.  Thomas turned his machine and began a slow, thirty-four kilometer-per-hour walk back to the Second Battalion's field base.




“Alright, people, the Arcadians just smacked them round the head,” Darren Huyten called, pushing his Doloire up to a low walk. “Now we kick them in the crotch; engage at will!”

Brickwork crumbled as he sideswiped a ruined building stepping out into Mannelbourg’s main street, uncomfortably aware of the damage they were doing and what it was going to cost to fix, even if the Falcons were kicked off Timkovichi. The rest of his attention, however, was focussed on the Fire Moth further down the street, battlesuited infantry already dropping from its high-mounted arms.

Whatever else they might have been, the Clan pilot wasn’t an idiot; faced with an assault ‘Mech four times their tonnage, they only spared a moment for shock before turning on their heel and starting to accelerate away, one of the Elementals still clinging on and undoubtedly cursing the mechwarrior out over the radio. Darren sent strings of heavy-gauge laser pulses chasing it; the Doloire’s accuracy-enhanced arm actuators guiding both streams of golden-white bolts into the Fire Moth’s vulnerable shoulder joint, blowing its left arm away in a shower of sparks and molten metal as it ducked around a corner.

Around him, as their heavy armour began to pull out - sending shells, Gauss rounds and shrieking jags of missile salvoes downrange as cover -  the rest of the Lucky Stars’ ‘Mechs engaged, boosting over obstacles on jump jets or just shouldering through them. Beside him, Ellie Jiao’s Lament - still painted in the gold-trimmed white of the Principes Guards she’d once openly served in - lashed arcs of destruction across the chest of a Night Gyr with its heavy particle cannon; blowout panels flared on the Clan machine’s chest as its autocannon ammo detonated. The Night Gyr’s right arm slumped as it hit back with its pulse lasers.

Darren left her to it; with Renata O’Kane’s Quasimodo muscling in to support, and the Carronade of Balan Reznov keeping a thin-skinned old-style Loki at bay with the threat of his Gauss rifles. Darren shifted in that direction, bringing the threat of his own Gauss Rifle - just the threat for now; too few slugs to risk with his targeting system refusing to give better than a flickering red-gold partial lock marker - to bear.  That gave time to survey the battlefield, and call for status checks, and figure out how to explain this - not the battle, everything that had happened over Timkovichi - in his next report.

“Star One, this is Sirius Lead,” Captain Aleka Montrose called, the hollow thumping of her Black Knight’s plasma rifles underlying the words, “We got a problem here; at least two Stars of Ironhold suits, dug into a building. Gotta be the heat-proofed armour type, my plas guns aren’t doing more than really pissing them off. Requesting fire support.” She rattled off a string of map reference numbers.

“Acknowledged,” Darren replied, stinging the Loki with his pulse lasers - forcing it back another hundred metres - as he flipped channels. “Chiron Platoon, Procyon Nine, work for you. Fire mission, these coordinates. Four-round stonk and then get out of it.”

Their acknowledgements came back, and although the buildings hid them from his camera feeds, he’d seen the artillery section at work often enough - in practice and battle - to picture it clearly. The close-support Rommel’s long, heavy howitzer elevating to the sky as the turret locked in place; the heavy Centaur battlesuits crouching down, bracing legs deploying in the awkward squat that the R&D types swore was the only way for a suit to take the recoil. Then the slamming thunder, leaf-shaped blades of flame erupting from muzzle brakes as the Centaurs tore through one of the four round clips fitted to their backpack rigs at maximum rate, the Rommel’s fire a slower, deeper sound.

He wasn’t happy about revealing one of his hole cards like this; not in front of officers as smart and capable as Nadia Allard or Jacob Tanhause. They’d know damn well that Centaurs had only just started being issued to Stone’s Brigade before the Fortress Walls went up, and even with the prepped explanation - and documents backing it up - they’d ask questions he’d have a hard time answering. But, use it or lose it time, now.

“Good hits, good hits!” Montrose called, exultant. ******’ levelled the place, and I see lots of Clanner armour shards. We’re good to pull out, Colonel.[/I]”

“Confirm that. Get moving for Phase Line Heraclio.”  Further back than planned, but the Clanners were pressing harder than expected; elements of two more Clusters were already wading into the fight, fresh and bold and some wearing the markings of the First Striker, one of the Falcons’ best units. Part of him wanted to stay, try to turn this into the kind of slugging match the Clans couldn’t manage; if the Falcons weren’t the Liaos, who Darren would gladly have killed for free, they’d still made the Republic bleed, and he wanted to take recompense for that out of their hides. But, responsibility means I can’t do that; responsibility to his people, to the contract they’d signed with the Kell Hounds and Duchess Katarina, and to Lady Lakewood, who’d be extremely cross if he got himself killed before reporting this..

His lock-on markers flashed gold; good tone on the Loki. That was something he could actually do, at least, and Darren tied everything into his primary triggers. One for the road.




Stephanie felt the old chill of combat come down over her when the lock tone first sounded in her ears.  A squeeze of the trigger sent a gauss slug into the shoulder of the Arcadian 'Mech in her crosshairs.  The armor failed, weakened by earlier combat, and the arm froze, a useless appendage for the towering humanoid machine that her machine identified as a Shillelagh.

The Arcadians were already wheeling about to face her and her First Striker Cluster, relieving the Fourth Falcon Dragoons to fall back in good order after the damage they'd taken at the enemy flanking attack.  Undaunted her warriors met their maneuver, firing for effect at their approach while the Sixth Striker Cluster moved into position to continue the Fourth Dragoons' assault on Mannelbourg.

Her target swiveled to face her.  In some ways it reminded her of an old Gargoyle, though larger and visibly slower.  She jinked her machine to the side in time to avoid taking a hit from the manmade-lightning that erupted from the barrel on the Shillelagh's right breast.  The pilot adjusted their aim before firing again.  This time Stephanie felt the vibration in her machine as it endured a full automatic burst from the Shillelagh's functioning autocannon.  A proper fight, at least.  She returned the favor with the PPCs installed in her Turkina's torso.  The two blasts converted on the flank of the machine, their fury blasting free molten, charred chunks of armor and material.  The other 'Mech visibly stumbled before the pilot caught their feet and turned, presumably to cover their wounded side.

As an individual warrior Stephanie would have kept her focus on this enemy, but she had a responsibility to her warriors to see to their needs.  She diverted her attention to the tactical display along the side of her command couch and observed the Fourth Dragoons continue their withdrawal.  She scowled at the sight of a Star of troops cut off for failing to do so.  Mongols, possibly, or simply fools.  She could do nothing for them without jeopardizing the rest of the Fourth.

The enemy's mixed forces met hers with resolve, just as her own foe, while withdrawing, kept up fire on her Turkina, raking autocannon shells across the shoulder and chest of the assault 'Mech.  Undeterred, Stephanie directed a full strike on the enemy machine, firing all four of her main weapons.  Heat spiked in the cockpit given the sheer energy needed for the PPCs to fire, but it was of no concern, she had endured similar heat at her forge.

Her fury left its mark.  The gauss slugs blew through the hip of the leg closest to her, trashing armor, skeleton, and the myomer of the hip actuator.  One particle blast grazed the shoulder of the 'Mech while the other flayed armor from the torso beneath.  A flash enveloped that half of the enemy machine, the familiar detonation of an autocannon shell magazine.  The Shillelagh tottered before a second gout of flame erupted below the head module, sending the cockpit skyward.

Another victory for my codex, though not nearly enough for my purpose.  With no immediate fire on her Stephanie re-directed her attention towards the greater fight.  There was satisfaction at her First Strikers striking the enemy so hard and certainty at their success.  Yet every day our casualties mount and the enemy, though retreating, fights well.  The Mongols will contrast a bloody glorious victory to their bloodless triumphs as proof of their superiority, and how many of my warriors will be seduced by their dezgra ways. 

It was a sickening moment to be sure, that cursed realization.  Stephanie believed in the Honor Road, in the Clan way, in the Falcon way.  But those ways imposed a price.  The Mongols offered the easier solution to victory by their pledge of bloody, savage retribution on any who dared to resist.  Success was its own argument for those who tired of bloody stalemate.  She could feel the Khanship slipping through her fingers with every friendly icon that blipped out on her holotank.

Still, what am I to do?  Renounce the Honor Road and follow Malvina's path?  Embrace the ways of that mad blood-foul and those who have turned their backs on the Founders' words?  Her heart rebelled against the idea.  There is no honor there.  No glory.  Only the false pride of easy conquest and the enervation that will come with it.

Pushing her fears and doubts aside, Stephanie sent her Turkina into a run and rejoined the battle.





The fight for Mannelbourg unfolded in brilliant holographic color in the command facilities of Field Base Carrol, one of a half dozen battles being waged in some capacity across a front of hundreds of kilometers.  The fresh Falcon troops pouring into the flank of his own flanking unit put a sour frown on General Singh's face.  He watched intently as his Second 'Mech Battalion's lines degraded, the Falcon formations penetrating through and breaking up the unit and their attached support.  Third Battalion meanwhile was in no position to help; their forces, and the local mercenary unit aiding them, were being driven right back out of Mannelbourg by the Falcon resurgence.  The counterattack was a failure.

Not that his people weren't fighting.  In Mannelbourg, or in Schmidtburg where First Battalion's battle group with the Twenty-Eighth Royal Grenadiers were waging a fighting withdrawal from the enemy's Ninth Talon, or Fourth Battalion's successful defense of the Ruhl River line on the far western flank, his troops were punishing the Falcons for every centimeter of land taken.  Every effort by the enemy to quickly smash the lines was failing to provide immediate response.  Every strike was resisted, and even if successful, the Falcons were paying in blood for their victories.

But there was no denying the growing red on the map.

"The continent of Ruckel is lost."  Nadia Allard had the map of the planet showing.  "We managed to pull the militia and volunteer survivors out, but only a third made it to the extraction zones before the Falcons responded in strength."

"I expected as much," Singh admitted.  Two out of three of Timkovichi's primary continents were now under tentative Falcon control.  It reduced the number of available aerodromes for his aerospace fighters, and their ability to provide planet-wide coverage.  But trying to spread the Second Royal Cuirassiers and their RCT to protect those continents was impossible given the strength of the enemy.  The fight was here, on the main continent of Aurum, with the Falcon forces moving up to the Summer Veldt and Cirenholm.  Once they're past the hills and river lines there's no stopping them, Singh thought ruefully. The numbers are too imbalanced.  "Nothing from the Glass?"

"No."  From his place to Singh's side, Brigadier Huston shook his head.  "The last drone we attempted to send through was shot down by the Falcons' aerospace fighters before it could get through, and no further communications have come through from the other end."

"Then we have no idea of if relief is coming, when, or how."  Singh drew in a breath.  "Brigadier, as dangerous as it will be for morale, have our people begin preparations for the abandonment of FB Carroll.  We'll fall back into the mountains to the north and try to buy time."

"I've got them on standby, sir, it'll be done immediately."

"Good."  Singh considered what it would mean, losing the base.  Most of their fixed facilities were here.  Mobile field base vehicles could allow some repairs, but the loss of all their repair bays, their ammo dumps, the barracks… his soldiers would be fighting in the bush with ever-dwindling supplies.  Power armor and battle armor suits would run out of energy eventually, with no fresh battery packs to restore them.  Armor and structural material for vehicles and 'Mechs would swiftly run out, or have to be salvaged from other machines, with limited tools to do either job.  Some of their fighters could be sustained - the Frogbat conventional strike fighters were made to refuel their fusion engines from any water source, famously drawing from lakes frequently - but most would likewise have to be cannibalized for parts or grounded for lack of suitable runways or launch points.  And ammunition and spare parts would certainly run short for the weapons.

All we can do is buy time, he thought.  Buy time and hope for relief.

"Colonel Allard, is your latest dispatch ready?" he asked Nadia.

"It is, General."

"Then I shall add mine with it."  Not that I expect General Bridger and the Kells on this side to be capable of any relief.  Not unless that Lyran battlecruiser they say is still active has arrived to fight on this front.  But I must keep them informed regardless.  "A moment, if you please."

She nodded briskly.  He saw the recognition in her eyes, of the burden of inevitable defeat that he was shouldering.  Undoubtedly she was used to it, as this kind of desperate fighting was one the Lyrans on this side of the Glass were well-acquainted with.

I have done my duty.  The rest is up to God.  He walked off to prepare his report, sparing himself the sight of Mannelbourg's fall to the Falcons.

[Steve]

32 - Military Necessity

AFS Sara Proctor
Zenith Jump Point, Atocongo System
Coventry Province, Lyran Commonwealth
20 January 3143


The officers' wardroom on the Sara Proctor enjoyed the benefit of being on one of the ship's rotating gravdecks, making it a comfortable environment for the assembly of senior officers that now sat arrayed around the circular table, all facing the central holotank.  Said holotank was a display of Timkovichi's surface and reflected the report sent by interstellar fax by General Singh.  Angry red covered two continents and key parts of the third, leaving a decreasing amount of land shaded blue.

The assembled were all the appropriate command officers.  General Bridger, Khan Fetladral, Brigadier Laguna, Colonel Kell, and Captain Winters of the Sara Proctor, joined by their highest ranked officers.  Each had a noteputer with the written reports from Timkovichi loaded.

"Doesn’t look like they’ve got a whole lot of time left."  Evan's voice was a frustrated growl.  He still had people there, including his second-in-command, and they faced another impossible battle.  There was a hint of frustrated betrayal in his eyes when they focused on Bridger.  "Just what the hell's takin' your people so long, General? I didn’t figure they’d want your guys to get wiped."

"Most likely, the need for naval assets with those Falcon battle wagons around."  Bridger resisted the urge to sigh.  "In our space that's a tri-border area with the Communal League of Sudeten as well as the Ghasties, and our relations with the Commies aren't so rosy they'd be fine with our battleships lingering.  Bringing Fourth Battle Fleet up from Tharkad takes time."  The frown didn't leave his face.  He didn't share his suspicions that games might have been played on Arcadia, if not basic complacency.  You didn't get to his rank without being aware of the tension in the upper echelons of the AFRF, and the entrenched interests who were devoted to fighting the Oriento-Capellan Empire.  We should have had a battle fleet ready and at Atocongo, dammit.

Khan Patrik nodded.  He was in a special seat, brought over from his own ship, since the Arcadian vessels had no seats that could properly accommodate an Elemental-bred Clan warrior.  "We are fortunate that Galaxy Commander Chistu is a warrior of honour, or at least what passes for it among the Jade Falcons.  She clearly wishes a clean victory, won by zellbrigen, to win the Khanship without embracing the dezgra Mongol philosophy."

"Doesn’t do Nadia and our folks a whole lot of good."  Evan shook his head.  "They're getting ground down.  Even if they make Chistu bleed white, she still wins in the end."

"Unless we can get our forces planetside, anyway, which is a tall order."

Heads turned to Captain Winters.  Her light complexion wasn't as pale as normal for spacers, though she still looked the part.  She noted her attention and laughed bitterly.  "My ship's a tough old girl, just like her namesake, but she's still no match for that much metal.  Even if Hanson timed things to bring Epaminondas into the fight, we'd be outgunned and outnumbered and I doubt we could keep enemy cover off of your droppers."

"It is doubtful Galaxy Commander Chistu would permit us safcon, as she would recognize we would turn the tide quickly," Khan Patrik added.

"There has to be something we can do," Bridger insisted.  'I refuse to sit back and watch helplessly."

"Well, there ain't a thing we can do to get her to call it off, I reckon."  Evan's frown grew.  "No, not if they want glory.  She won't back off just because we hit another world.  She wouldn't even find out for a week. Hell, I’m not sure she’d go for it even if I called her out to a Trial of Grievance."

"Is there a way to give her what she wants?  Glory wise?"  Bridger directed the question at Patrik and Evan.  "Something that, even if we lost, would get her to withdraw, with her honor satisfied.  Because given the records we have, the losses she's taking on Timkovichi can't be good for her Clan."

"Oh, they're not good at all," Evan agreed.  "The Falcons were still recovering from their civil war, and they've lost more even when beating us. If Delta Galaxy and the other units she brought get wrecked on Timkovichi the Falcons won't have much left to throw at us unless they abandon the Reach.  They can hold what they've got, but they won't be marching on to Tharkad any time soon."

"Still, that prospect alone will not bring Stephanie Chistu to cease battle short of victory, not if she wishes to become the next Falcon Khan"  Patrik crossed his arms.  "A victory over your forces, and revenge for Malvina's defeat, will sway even Mongol votes on the Falcon Council."

"A shame there's no way we can accommodate her," Ward mused.

Bridger grunted.  He'd rather not accommodate any of the Falcons, he'd seen too much.  But saving Timkovichi was more important.  And yet it looks like our only hope is to wait for a move through the Glass, without knowing when it's coming, or hoping that our WarShips can blast a hole through the enemy for us, and it's pretty clear they can't.

"What if I challenged her to one of your duels?"  All eyes turned towards Laguna.  "My unit put Malvina down, after all."

Bridger shot a glare at her.  "Brigadier, I've no doubt you've got a lot of skill, but you're not a field MechWarrior any more than I am."

"I've still run with my people in the field, General," Laguna retorted.  "I landed in Cirenholm same as them.  And I keep my training up.  I'm as good as I've ever been, I dare say."

“That may work, after a fashion.” Patrik Fetladral looked thoughtful. “But it could not be you, Brigadier. It would have to be the warrior who personally bested Malvina — a Lieutenant Eva, I believe?”

Laguna's quiet confidence dissolved into anger.  "She's just a year out of the Nagelring, you can't possibly expect me to send one of my youngest pilots to face that kind of fight.  Christ's sake, she only delivered the final shots that put Malvina down, it's not like she bested the mad bitch in a one on one duel!"

"Why not?"  The question left his lips before he could stop them.  Bridger regretted them even before noticing the hot glare he got from Laguna and from Colonel Ward.  He swallowed.  "God help me, but is it any different than ordering her to hold a tactical point, knowing she'd be overrun, so long as it got more troops to safety?"

Ward's mouth forced itself closed before she spoke.  "General, with all due respect, you can't be considering this."

"I don't want to, dammit," he snarled.  "But I don't want the Second Royal-Cees getting wiped out either, or the loss of Timkovichi, especially if the damned Mongols are too strong for Chistu to restrain.  They might just sack and wreck the planet anyway for daring to fight!"

"******, General, I don't want to agree with you," Evan swore.  "But I get what you're saying."

Laguna wasn't swayed.  "She's still a young pilot, a lot of promise, you'd be ordering her to commit suicide."

"Would Chistu kill her no matter what?"  Bridger directed the question at Patrik.  "You allow warriors to survive defeat in those Circles of Equals, right?"

“We do, as do others. The Falcons."  Patrik frowned slightly, clearly searching his memory.  “It happens, but I do not know Stephanie Chistu well enough to say if she would honour a request for hegira in single combat.  Other Falcons have been known to slay enemies in Trials regardless, even before the dezgra Mongols appeared.”

"And it's live fire anyway, so there may not be a chance for it."  Bridger rubbed at his eyes thoughtfully.

"General, please.  I'm the commander of the Sunhawks, I gave the orders, this is my responsibility," Laguna pleaded.  She turned her head to Patrik.  "Isn't that enough?  I was in charge of the drop.  I'm the head of the unit.  I'm the responsible one."

"That is not how we see these things, not in that way," Patrik answered.  "She was given the credit for defeating Malvina.  That makes it her victory, not yours; for the same reason, I could not stand for one of my warriors in such a Trial.  You could try your argument with Chistu, but I am certain she will want to fight Lieutenant Eva, not you.  Do you not have confidence in your warriors, Brigader?"

Laguna's face paled with rage.  "I have confidence in my people to fight as a unit, as a team, not as gladiators in some ****** blood sport honor duel."

"You could maybe try challenging her command Cluster against the Sunhawks’ First Batt," Evan offered, “but that’s iffy, for a Trial of Grievance. I’m pretty sure it’s been done, but not often.”

"Trials of Grievance are — even when between units — fought by individuals," Patrik said.  "And if we are correct and Chistu wishes to limit her losses — and enhance her own standing — it will not appeal."  The giant man looked thoughtful for a moment.  "At most, she might accept fighting both warriors credited with Malvina's defeat.  There was another, I believe?"

"One of the local troops, yeah," Evan said.  "Another leutnant.  Palisser, I think? Yeah, that’s it. She was piloting her family’s Awesome, one of the tough old standard tech ones; it’s got about one moving part."

"Then if she lives and can fight, she could fight alongside your Lieutenant Eva.  But no others are likely to be acceptable."

Bridger nodded.  "I'll make inquiries as to her status, then, and inform General Khan of our plan."  He looked Laguna's way.  She was visibly fuming, arms crossed.  "When we get back to the Sinclair, have the lieutenant called to my office."

There was no immediate reply.  Eyes turned towards the two of them.  Just as Bridger opened his mouth to repeat the order, Laguna's neck moved with a nod.  "I will, General."




An unexpected, but not unwelcome, mid-day nap ended abruptly for Eva when she heard the rapping on the bunkroom door.  She turned her head that way.  Kevin hovered at the door, one hand on a handrail.  "Hey.  No time for sleepin', Eva."

"I must have dozed off."  She reached around and released the straps, allowing her to pull free from the sleeping bag.  Her jumpsuit BDUs were frumpled but not entirely unpresentable.

"Freshen up an' smooth out the suit," Kevin said.  "Ye've been called by the CO."

Eva blinked.  "Captain Choudhury wants to see me?"

"She might be there, but I mean the CO," he said, putting heavy emphasis on the article.

So Colonel Perez, no… no, not…  "The Brig?" she said, her voice a whispered squeak of surprise and intimidation.

Kevin nodded.

It left her supremely nervous to hear it.  Nor did it ease straightening out her jumpsuit and fitting her beret to her head with a snug enough fit to stay on in zero-G.  Kevin waited patiently and escorted her through the living bunks for the embarked troops, up the tubes, and onto the command deck.  These past months left Eva quite adjusted to zero-G and how to move in it.  She propelled herself with practice and efficiency, not missing her turns or corners, the movements so automatic she could do it even as her mind raced to grasp just what Brigadier Laguna could want with her.  That she wasn't afraid of the coming meeting was more from her confusion than anything; she couldn't comprehend just why the head of the brigade was summoning a field MechWarrior who wasn't even second in command of a lance.

It wasn't like she was telling everyone about the dread feeling in her gut, the resentment that she'd ever signed up for this life.  How she'd undo her entire life back to applying to the Nagelring if she could, to get out of this uniform and these fights, even if it meant undoing the pride she'd seen in her parents' faces when she got that acceptance letter, or when she graduated and got the 8th Strikers assignment.  No, all of that remained locked away in her heart while she did the daily routines and orders and zero-G PE.  She didn't want to hurt the others with her thoughts.

They arrived on the command deck and floated their way past other crew and officers to the largest office, directly adjacent to the Charles Sinclair's Ground Command Center.  Large block letters on the bulkhead door read "GROUND COMMAND OFFICE", leaving no doubt who was within.  Eva entered alone, found the looped foot straps for her to slip into, and "stood" to attention with her right hand firmly held in a salute to her temple.  "Lieutenant Penton-Vallejo, reporting as ordered, sir," left her mouth before she let her eyes verify what she was seeing.

She'd been so intent on sticking her landing into the loops that she didn't notice the desk occupant until she was already speaking.  An involuntary rush of breath came to her at the sight of General Bridger seated at the desk.  Laguna was nearby at another, slightly smaller desk, even if customarily this would have been her office, not Bridger's.

Already she could tell was something was wrong.  Laguna's face was pale and her eyes glittered furiously.  Bridger, for his part, had a deep frown, and when he spoke, his voice rumbled like thunder.   "Lieutenant.  We have something to discuss."

What could have gone wrong?  This makes no sense, why would the OpForce commander want to see me of all people.  "I'm at your disposal sir."

Something about that word deepened the frowns on their faces.  "I'm going to be frank with you, Lieutenant.  The situation on Timkovichi is not good.  The Second Royal-Cees are sustaining heavy losses, along with the other defenders.  The Falcon naval defense complicates our ability to reinforce them."

Eva nodded.  She'd heard rumors to that effect.  But she was still uncertain.  "I'm sorry to hear that, sir.  I just… I'm confused.  I'm just a Second Lieutenant, why are you telling me this?"

"Because we may have a way to save them."  Bridger folded his hands on the desk, as if they were planetside.  "It's been suggested the Falcon attack is to serve an internal issue, something with their politics.  That the commander of the force is looking to consolidate her shot at replacing Malvina Hazen as the lead Khan of the Falcons.  We suspect that she's getting more than she bargained for from the defense and might be amenable to an alternative.  And that is where you come in."

"I do?"  Eva watched the scowl grow on Brigadier Laguna's face.  "How?"

"Because you are the one who brought Hazen down, in the end.  The kill credit went, at least in part, to you.  As I've been told, as far as the Falcons are concerned, you defeated Malvina Hazen, their Khan, and that's got power."

"In what way, sir?"  Eva shook her head.  "I… I barely shot at her, only at the end really.  Lieutenant von Krager did all the work."

"I know, but that's not how the Clans see it.  As for how this will work…"  He let the sentence trail off.  His eyes looked stormy, angry, and Eva wondered just what conflict was going on inside of him.  More to the point, she was getting a sick feeling about just why this was being explained to her.  "Quite simply, we offer her a chance to face you in one of the Clans' duels, MechWarrior versus MechWarrior.  The prospect of defeating the pilot who beat Malvina Hazen might just convince her that she doesn't need to conquer Timkovichi to accomplish her goals."

Eva didn't quite catch the last sentence, as important as it was.  She was stuck on the first.  On the idea of getting into a one-on-one duel with one of those difficult, highly capable Clan warriors, like the one who cored her 'Mech on Morges.  Malvina killed Captain Kincaid with ease.  If this Clan commander is even nearly as good as she was…

The entire thing came together with a flash.  "You're… going to order me to do it, right?' she asked.  "To fight this Clanner, to do this… duel."

There was a moment of uneasy silence.  Eva thought she saw disgust in Brigadier Laguna's eyes before she lowered them again.  Oh God.  They are.  They're going to order me to do this.  He's going to.  I'm being fed to the lions.  Despair and terror roiled up within her at that realization.  They're going to send me to die.  Sacrifice me.

"I was intending to sound you out, Lieutenant.  To see if you're willing to do this."

Eva laughed.  It was not the kind of thing a second lieutenant was supposed to in the presence of flag officers, but at that moment, there were no norms.  It wasn't like they could punish her further, after all.

"Pardon me, Lieutenant?" Bridger asked, a razor tone in his voice.

She regained control, but the smile remained on her face.  "I guess this is it," she said.  "I've spent the last several weeks wondering if I was going to die soon, and now I know I am."

"If your situation in the fight is hopeless, you can request honorable retreat," Bridger said, his expression and tone never softening.  "Their tradition of 'hegira'.  Like we allowed them on Great X."

"Because the Falcons are known for following all those honor codes the Clans are claimed to have."  Eva shook her head.  "They're going to kill me, General, and you know it.  You gave me the credit for their leader and they'll want me dead, or worse, for it.  And as high as my scores and grades were, I'm still not up to their caliber as a MechWarrior."

"Lieutenant, again, I'm asking if you're willing."

"With all due respect, sir, it sounds like you're asking me to volunteer for a likely suicide mission so you don't have to order me," she answered, her voice bitter even as the despair twisted her inside.  I am going to die.

The stormy look on Bridger's face worsened.  "That doesn't mean I won't."

"I am certain of that sir."  Eva nodded.  To her surprise she wasn't having to fight back tears, but she knew that wouldn't last.  "Give me the order, and I'll go and most likely die, though I'll try like hell not to."  Her voice threatened to break.  "I'm not volunteering, though.  Give me the order, sir."

"You're being disrespectful, Lieutenant."

"No sir, I'm being honest."  Eva swallowed.  If I survive somehow, he'll never forgive this.  But that's not likely, is it?  "And if you're worried about it, I won't throw the fight or make it too easy.  Wouldn't want to let my unit down, my lancemates.  I'll give the best I can, and maybe it'll even look good, and then they'll kill me to avenge their pride, and hopefully that will save my comrades from whatever desperate backup plan you've got that would have likely killed all of us anyway.  But we both know you're sending me to die, and even if I'm a new officer of just a year, I'd like to think I merit some responsibility on your part instead of this 'volunteer' excuse."

There was no telling what would happen next.  For all she knew he was about to summon the MPs to have her brought to the ship brig for insubordination.  But it wouldn't change her final fate.  A part of her screamed that she could resist this, that she could simply refuse to fight, refuse to pilot her 'Mech, but the rest of her wouldn't allow it.  Bridger, by the stories about him, wasn't the type to stand by and do nothing while their comrades on Timkovichi were dying every hour.  He would try something anyway.  She'd still likely die.  So would Kevin, and Jasminder, and all the others in her company, her battalion, the entire brigade.

I'm a dead woman either way.  I might as well die protecting the others.

"Fine.  Lieutenant Penton-Vallejo, I am going to arrange a Clan honor duel between you and the Falcon commander at Timkovichi.  You will participate, you will fight with all the courage and skill I would expect of a MechWarrior of the Royal Federation, and I pray to God you win or walk away intact."

Eva brought her hand up to her temple in as crisp a salute as she'd ever given.  "Yes sir."

"You are dismissed."

With that she pulled her feet out of the floor straps and kicked off towards the door.  On the other side, Kevin was still waiting patiently, one arm crooked around the rail along the side.  "So what was that about?"

"I'll tell you later," was all she could manage.  "I want to go back to my bunk now."

He clearly saw something was wrong.  "Alright" was the only reply he gave, and she was grateful for the following silence on their return to the troops' habitation section.  She went back to the lance bunkroom, wrapped herself into her bag, and zipped it up so that it covered her like a cocoon, safely out of sight and earshot of her comrades.

She let go.  She dropped all the control, all the defenses she'd raised, and let the despair and fear and everything else fill her until she was seized by deep, wracking sobs.  I'm going to die.  I AM GOING TO DIE.




Second Royal Cuirassiers Bivouac
Greywalk, Aurum Continent
Timkovichi, Coventry Province
Lyran Commonwealth (Disputed)
22 January 3143


“You wanted to see me, Kommandant?”

Allison Palisser’s muscles ached from hours in a command couch, and all she wanted right now was to try and snatch some sleep before she had to be back in the cockpit. But, when your boss called you to his office - well, an awning and camp table by the side of his Brutus, but close enough - ‘at your earliest convenience’, one thing she’d learned from her time in the LCAF was that they meant ‘right damn now’.

“I don’t want to, Leutnant,” Kommandant Tanhause replied, looking less like the banker in uniform he usually did, and more like one of the terminal cancer patients her sister Becky - the rich, successful doctor in Tharkad City General - had worked with, as though the gradual loss of Timkovichi was hollowing him out. “But, on this, I have to.”

“What is it it, then, sir?”

“Myself and General Singh have been in contact with General Bridger, Khan Fetladral and Colonel Kell,” Tanhause explained, still not meeting her eyes. “And, we believe, there is a way to finish this, for good. One way or another.”

Allison waited, feeling a sinking sensation in the pit of her stomach. Because I think I know where this is going.

“You have partial credit for taking down Malvina Hazen. Given the probable motivations for this Galaxy Commander Chistu attacking TImkovichi, that gives us one option to finish this fast.” Now, he did look her in the eyes. “You, and Lieutenant Penton-Vallejo of the Eighth Striker, can challenge Chistu and whoever she picks to fight alongside her, to a Trial of Grievance, to force them to back off the planet.”

Oh boy do I hate it when I’m right. Part of her wanted to say no right then and there, but Allison carefully bit back that response. It was tempting - God it was so very tempting - but thinking in that direction left her trying to find a justification that the people of Timkovichi - like the ones she could see in her peripheral vision, trying to hitch a ride out of here before the Falcons took over - would accept for the LCAF cutting and running. Even with “the LCAF” here and now being one mechwarrior barely into her twenties.

“Leutnant,” Tanhause’s voice broke her train of thought, his craggy features drawn as he carried on. “I have never before ordered a soldier into a position where I expected them to die, and I’m not going to do so now. If you truly believe that you cannot do this, then tell me; we’ll figure something out. God knows what, but we will.” He sighed. “I’d take Jinjiro Kurita at the head of the Swords of Light at this point.”

“I’m in, sir.” Committing felt curiously liberating, as though removing a weight she hadn’t been aware of carrying. It let Allison put aside anything but the tactical considerations, at least; like that I need to get with the techs, make sure Say Your Prayers is at peak condition, and see what I can get on how Chistu fights.

“You’re sure about this, Leutnant? You understand the risk asked of you here?”

“A whole lot of people are gonna die if I don’t do this, right, sir? Civvies, most of them.” That drew an uncomfortable nod from Tanhause, and Allison carried on. “Then I don’t see that I’ve got a choice, sir. I said the words, I took the oath when I got commissioned - ‘to stand between the people of the Commonwealth and harm’.” She shrugged. “I figure that about covers it.”

“Alright then.” There was a brief flicker of what might of have been sadness across Tanhause’s face, then he was all business. “We need to get with Tac-Ops, figure out just where Chistu might want as a circle of equals, likely profiles on her backup, all of that.  But there is a matter to attend to first.”

"I’m the one who’s got to issue the actual challenge," Allison said.

He nodded in reply.  "General Khan's waiting at HQ.  The helo is already on the way."

[Steve]

Delta Galaxy Headquarters
Mannelbourg Township


With her Turkina undergoing repairs - it had taken more damage than expected, and she was thankful for the heavy armour; its movement profile was just close enough to her preferred Jade Hawk to make adjusting difficult - Stephanie Chistu paid a visit to the Galaxy Command headquarters set up in the ruins of Mannelbourg, using the half-intact manor of the local baron as the center of the facility.  The central hall's roof was still intact and the room, once used for civil functions and conferences and the like, was know adorned with makeshift workstations, displays, and holotanks for Stephanie's subordinates to oversee the ongoing invasion.  The central holotank displayed a graphic of the planet, now increasingly under Falcon control.

Yet her expanding control, and continued victories, did not sit well.  The battered enemy continued to consolidate their remaining units.  They were stuck fast in Greywalk and Cirenholm and her subordinate cluster commanders were taking losses in their attempts to outflank those positions, succumbing to rapid reaction attacks by the Republic mercenaries and the Arcadians' remaining 'Mech and vehicle forces.  In time they would grind those forces down and achieve the breakthroughs, but it was costing her warriors material and lives.

Things have not gone as desired.  We underestimated these Arcadians, or overestimated ourselves.

"This is your way, is it?"  Isaac Roshak was fresh from his own machine, still in cooling vest and gear — marked with Mongol black of course — and looking frustrated and furious.  "Our warriors' lives thrown away, all so you could claim your precious honor.  When will you wake up and call in the WarShips to wipe our enemy from the surface of the planet?"

"When will you work up the courage to challenge me, if you feel my leadership has been poor?" Stephanie retorted.  She was of half a mind to challenge him at this point, the Mongols be damned.  "We have overrun most of the planet.  Our enemies fall back with every blow we throw at them.  We are winning, Star Colonel."

"We would have won weeks ago had you been a true successor to the Chinghis Khan!"

Stephanie glared at him.  "Your ways grow the ranks of the Clan's enemies."

"Our ways kill the Clan's enemies, at little or no loss to ourselves."  Isaac's eyes flashed.  "They teach the Spheroids to obey or die, and they choose obey."

"Unless they resist out of despair, and force us to kill them, and expend effort killing them.  We cannot do to every world what was done to Apostica, nor should we, or we shall have no worlds to rule!"

"So make an example, to remind our enemies," Isaac urged.  "Slaughter these freebirth scum from orbit.  Send our ships through and bombard the world on the other end as a warning of what awaits if they continue to fight us.  Claim vengeance for the Chinghis Khan by honoring her teachings, not your outdated way that costs us the lives of our best warriors!"

Around her there were a number of upturned faces.  Some were full of disgust.  But not enough for Stephanie's comfort.  Malvina took so many of our best in the Rending.  And she made the path of conquest look so damn easy.

"You would suggest we invade through to the other side of the Anomaly?  That we throw such a provocation at a foe we know to possess as great a fleet as we do, if not greater?"  Stephanie crossed her arms.  "Your Mongol Doctrine only works if there is no hope against us.  But we do not have the strength to invade this other Inner Sphere as well, so your idea of a warning will do nothing but anger them into greater efforts against us.”

And, she added silently, knowing this was an argument Roshak would never heed, to do so might well provoke the Lyrans into unleashing their greatest weapons against us. Stephanie had made a point of studying the campaigns of the Word of Blake’s lunatic Jihad, where few Jade Falcons did.  There had been little glory in combat against the Blakists, just grinding, savage attrition enforced by the rampant use of nuclear weapons and other, worse means of mass devastation. There was a valuable lesson there in not simply presenting a foe with annihilation as the only option; the Blakists had done just that, and only succeeded in uniting the Spheroids and Clans both in extirpating them from the universe, their name spoken only as a curse. She’d even studied what information the Watch had on the Davion campaigns against the Taurians, where the latter had tried to make things a battle of annihilation from the outset - and only the fact that the Federated Suns had initially been fighting three opponents - Kuritans, Capellans and Blakists - their equal at once, and then the death of Nathaniel Hasek robbing the Davions’ MATADOR counter-offensive of its driving will, had stopped them from burning a path clear to Taurus with atomic fire. So far, the Lyrans had not unleashed their nuclear arsenal, and I must keep it that way. They can sustain such a war far better than we can.

The Mongols would drive the enemy to such extremes without a thought, convinced our superiority as warriors will always translate to victory even in such fighting.  I must bring us back onto the Honor Road, to save the Clan from the fate of the Blakists.  I need a way to break this battle in our favor soon, quickly, or this dezgra fool and the bloodfoul's other followers will pull something to bring that end about.

"Signal from the White Aerie, Galaxy Commander."  The comm-tech, a member of the technician caste, lifted her head from one station.  "They say a Sea Fox trading mission is approaching and requests permission to transit the Anomaly.  Star Admiral Crichell is of a mind to let them, but wishes you to confirm."

Sea Foxes.  Stephanie snorted in disgust.  As degraded as the Mongols and the traitor Wolves, if not as mad.  And still so very useful.  "Very well, allow them to pass, but only the Anomaly.  This world is under blockade."

Isaac barked a harsh laugh.  "So much for firmness.  The Chinghis Khan would have shot the merchants down as a warning to the rest."

"No, she would not have, because even Khan Malvina was wise enough to grasp that without the Foxes, degraded though they may be, we cannot function. Or would you prefer that your warriors go into battle without the ammunition they ensure our supplies of, or lacking replacement armour and BattleMechs, or without information on an enemy’s strength?" Stephanie retorted.  "So are you here to report, Star Colonel, or to malinger?  Your Cluster needs you, quiaff?"

That drew forth a snarl.  "We are repairing battle damage from our latest victories.  As soon as the Ninth is repaired I will return them to the battle.  While waiting I thought it proper to investigate how our campaign proceeds."

"We are winning," Stephanie answered drolly.  "That is how it proceeds."

He opened his mouth but stopped.  Yes, you do try my patience, she thought. Silence is wise if you don't want me to challenge you here and now.

"Galaxy Commander.  We have a transmission."  The commtech raised her head again.  "It is the enemy commander, he wishes to speak with you."

"If he is wise, it will be to surrender," Isaac said.  "My warriors are not disposed to taking prisoners for much longer."

Stephanie shot a glare his way before turning towards her holotank and the recorders she knew to be built into the base.  "Connect us, Technician Marilee."

The commtech obeyed promptly.  Within moments the holographic projection of Timkovichi was replaced by the image of their foe.  His turban was fresh and, she thought, his beard freshly trimmed.  "General Labh."

"Galaxy Commander Chistu."  His expression was a grave one, which she'd expect for the man who was, by all appearances, losing this struggle.  "I am calling to arrange a new challenge.  One that will decide which of our forces withdraws."

"It is a little late to be considering a new Trial, General, unless this is how your side requests surrender."

"We have no intention to surrender."  Singh nodded to someone out of view and moved aside.  Moments after he disappeared, a woman in an LCAF uniform stepped into view.  She was younger, by rank insignia only a leutnant, and struck Stephanie as a warrior freshly pulled from the battle.  "I am Leutnant Allison Palisser of the Timkovichi Armoured Guards," the woman said.  The name struck at Stephanie's memory.  "And this past August, I was one of the MechWarriors who claimed the victory over Khan Malvina Hazen."

At that moment, Stephanie realized precisely what they were up to.  She started considering the possibilities.

"I challenge you, Galaxy Commander Stephanie Chistu, to a Circle of Equals, as does the other MechWarrior that aided me in bringing down the Chinghis Khan, Lieutenant Evangeline Penton-Vallejo of the Eighth Strikers Brigade.  We will meet you and whichever warrior you select to fight at your side for the fate of Timkovichi.  The winner will grant hegira to the loser, and both sides will return all prisoners."

I see.  Her mind went into the histories of the Invasion, and the fight for Coventry.  The Spheroids had offered hegira outright there, with their one commander who won a victory over the Clan during the fight for the planet.  This was different, but the spirit was the same; avoid a greater battle neither wanted to continue within the confines of Clan law.

"Accept me," Isaac hissed.  "Let us avenge the Chinghis Khan!"

"Quiet!"  When I win, I will have accomplished all my goals.  I will have the victory on this planet and the distinction of having beaten those Malvina did not.  The Khanship will be mine.  But she could not commit right away, regardless.  There is more at stake here than that.  How much can I push them?  Let us see.

"I am inclined to accept, on one further condition."  Stephanie crossed her arms.  "Whomever wins, a truce shall stand between the Jade Falcon Clan and the Arcadians and Lyrans, ten years in duration, during which your forces will not engage ours, nor will the Arcadian forces be posted within two jumps of a Falcon-held world.  We will, for our part, halt our campaign against the Commonwealth during the truce."

Leutnant Palisser frowned in thought before turning away to face someone out of the recording field.  "One year," she countered.

Not enough.  Not nearly enough.  "Unacceptable.  You must give more."

"Three, then."

"I will go down to five. But no less.  Otherwise I do not accept, and we will continue this contest."  Stephanie did the calculations.  She dare not go lower, as much as she wanted this fight.  The Clan would need time to prepare, to rebuild from the Rending, consolidate their conquests, and if possible, find a way through the Fortress effect to take Terra and claim the title of ilClan.  They could not do any of that if the Arcadians devoted more to the war.

For a time nothing was said on the other end, with Palisser's head turned away.  After several seconds she turned her attention back to Stephanie.  "It is accepted."

That left one last issue.  "I imagine your fellow challenger will need to come from another system?" Stephanie asked.  "I know they were at Morges when we passed through, and that your people have the fax machine devices for continued communication."

After a moment's pause, Palisser nodded.  "Yes, she will."

"Then I grant safcon to the ship bearing her, and to that vessel alone, to land on Timkovichi.  The others may, if they wish, withdraw through the Anomaly, but may not come back before the Trial concludes."

"We accept these terms."

"Then it is settled.  Bargained well and done, Leutnant.  I look forward to our battle.  In the meantime, my warriors will refrain from further strikes on your holdings, should yours hold back as well.  Chistu out."  With those words the commtech cut the transmission.

"Whom will be your second?" Isaac demanded.

"I imagine you wish it to be yourself," she said.  "Yet you have done nothing but dance the line of insubordination since coming under my command, Star Colonel, so why should I grant you this honor?"

"Because I am the strongest of the Chinghis Khan's followers here, and we demand vengeance," Isaac said.  "If you deny us, we will remember the insult."

And undoubtedly cause me trouble in the vote.  "How very Mongol of you.  Even when pleading a favor, you bluster and threaten."  Stephanie considered her words carefully.  "I am inclined to grant you this chance, Star Colonel, on conditions."

"Name them."

"You will support our bargain with the Lyrans and Arcadians, whatever happens," Stephanie said.  "It is our shield to focus our efforts towards Terra.  Otherwise the Wolves may yet beat us to the prize."

She wasn't surprised at his frown.  "The Wolves will destroy the Lyrans anyway.  Why should we give up on more conquests?"

"Because we lack the warriors to hold them all and to continue the march on Terra," Stephanie barked.  "We can keep what we have, but we must focus on the desant if we are to beat the Wolves.  Even the Mongol Doctrine must bow to the needs of military necessity, quiaff?"

A very sour "Aff" was her reply.  "I will support your bargain with the freebirths."

"Then I choose you, Star Colonel, to fight at my side."

He saluted firmly at that.  "It will be a pleasure."  He said the words with such pleasure she wondered if she'd made a terrible mistake.

But I am committed now, and I will do what I must.  This is our way forward, to the return of the Falcons to the honored ways of the Founders, and our rise to IlClan.

[Templar87]

Forgot to post this up, so the information on the two mercenary units present on Timkovichi;


The Lucky Stars
Reinforced Battalion (1 Reinf. Coy. BattleMechs, 1 Reinf. Coy. Armour, 2 Coys. Inf (1 Jump, 1 Battle Armour)/Veteran/Reliable
CO: Lt. Col. Darren Huyten
A graduate of the War College of Mars, Darren Huyten served for twenty years in the Republic Armed Forces, from joining the V Principes Guard just prior to the Capellan Crusades, to retiring just prior to the Blackout. For a time, he dropped out of sight, eventually reappearing on Galatea in charge of a company of mercenaries, c. 3135. Since then, the Lucky Stars have served powers across the northern half of the Inner Sphere, from the Vegan Protectorate to - after their recent shift to Arc-Royal's hiring halls - the Lyran Commonwealth. Pride of place in their forces are their Clantech-equipped BattleMechs and tanks, the most notable of which is Colonel Huyten's Doloire, maintained perfectly in the Primary configuration. This machine, and its condition - as well as the Lucky Stars' generally high level of technology - have given rise to the suspicion that Colonel Huyten somehow works for Republic Military Intelligence, but no evidence has shown up of that yet.


Metal Fire
Reinf. Battalion (2 Reinf. Coys. Armour (1 assault, 1 light), 2 Reinf. Coys. (Battle Armour; mechanised))/Regular/Reliable
CO: Force Commander Jesminder Harcourt
Originally Zhang's Heavy Mobile, Metal Fire have a well-earned reputation for being a solid, disciplined and relatively cheap command, with a deep antipathy for pirates and Jade Falcons (not that they make much distinction between the two). Founded by a former CCAF Major, Orin Zhang, who left House Liao's service shortly after the Jihad, their first two decades of existence were spent alternating between contracts with the Fronc Reaches, Calderon Protectorate and New Avalon Catholic Church, defending worlds from pirates alongside the Colonial Marshals, Calderon Guard and Knights Defensor. It was during one such pirate hunting contract that they picked up their present commander; Jesminder, taken as a slave by one particularly unpleasant pirate band, joined the Fire after they rescued her, working her way up from astech to second-in-command, and was elected commander when Force Commander James Paxton retired in 3138. With many of their contracts having been in regions close to the Federated Suns, much of Metal Fire's equipment has a distinctly Davion cast; most spectacularly the centrepiece of their assault tank company, a pair of Destrier superheavies, complete with Ballista trailers. Although - due to their low speed - rarely deploying into combat, it's a common sentiment among Metal Fire that just having them has won them plenty of battles.

[Steve]

33 - Casting Dice

Royal Palace
Roslyn, Eastern Islay
Arcadia, Royal Arcadian March
Royal Federation
26 January 3143



Below the main levels of the palace, Arnold Proctor-Steiner entered the officer wardroom quietly.  He was met by Grand Admiral Stewart and General Montague.  The sight of Military Intelligence's Chief of Staff spiked Arnold's interest in this quick meeting; Montague preferred to play it safe in being seen with them outside of regular scheduled meetings.  "Gentlemen.  I trust this has to do with Lady Trillian's latest push to pull us into her war?"

"Oh, more than that."  Montague grinned.  He held up a noteputer and handed it to Arnold.  "Can't copy the file, unfortunately.  Not until matters become official.  But as you can see, we received some interesting new information through the Glass from those merchant Foxes or whatever they call themselves."

Arnold nodded while bringing the noteputer up.  He pulled the stylus from its port along the side and used it to scroll over the report.  As he read the contents a smile grew on his face.  Yes.  Oh.  We can use this.  Lady Trillian has been keeping quite the secret, hasn't she?  The Privy Council will come over to our side easily now.  "Any chance this intelligence can be challenged?"

"I mean, it is guesswork, but it rings true quite well when you consider Trillian's own testimony," Montague said.  "And I doubt the Foxes would jeopardize our relations on something false."

"True.  Alright.  I think it is time we bring some cold hard reality to our young ruler."  Arnold handed the noteputer back.  "We may have need of that file."

"I will have it ready," Stewart promised.

"Then all is in place."  Arnold clapped his hands together.  And then all we need is to turn the screws in the Council and Parliament, and maybe, just maybe, we'll save the Federation from the Empire after all.




Thirty meters above their heads, the object of their ire was seated in the inner parlor of her guest suite.  With another meeting with the Privy Council just an hour or so away, Trillian was already in her formal gown and wear, a full suit of greens and blues with the bottom a dress piece flowing to her ankles.

Her counterpart, Lord Friedrich von Kassel of Inarcs, had his own court uniform on, including the orange barnous around the shoulders and the three-arrowed insignia of the Kingdom of Ghastillia.  Said nation's existence, including its peculiar name and makeup, was one of the more outlandish elements of this side of the Glass to Trillian.  She'd initially imagined they were some form of Rim Worlds Republic successor state but found they were more of a melange of Lyran refugee and Rim Worlder communities that had developed in a way her side of the Glass would never imagine such a state could go, such as their particular affinity for German that went beyond even the most Teutonic Lyrans Trillian knew.

"I am aware of your concerns, Lady Trillian," von Kassel remarked in a conciliatory tone.  "Konigin Gerda is adamant that we will not allow a Falcon threat through the Glass.  Ships are en route."

"Ships that might come too late for Timkovichi, nor is it a guarantee you will go through the Glass."

"Such decisions will be left up to the commanders on the spot, and a final decision by Her Majesty."  Seeing her frown, he quickly added, "A counterattack is all but guaranteed, but it takes time.  For one matter, our naval forces must protect a large swath of worlds, and are scattered suppressing pirate threats on the rebuilding frontier.  Even then, we must also ensure that there are no diplomatic complications from a buildup on the frontline.  Atocongo is a jump away from the Communal League, as you are undoubtedly aware."

"Are you not at peace with them?"

"Can anyone be at peace with radical revolutionists?" he asked pointedly.  "For now, yes.  Thirty years of peace have held.  But that is never guaranteed, and their fleet often moves into position as well if we make such maneuvers.  We cannot risk that lingering animosities can spark more warfare, you understand."

I do.  I understand you have reason to fear some of your own people may wish to strike a foe you were compelled to accept peace with by the exigencies of war.  Trillian was too much a diplomat to say this aloud, of course.  "Still, surely they understand the situation?"

"Diplomatic communications are open, and so far no problems exist.  That is why the matter proceeds."  Von Kassel folded his hands on his lap.  "On other matters, the loan you contracted with the Rim Frontier Bank has been approved, and Konigin Gerda is personally guaranteeing your loan from the Royal Bank of Inarcs.  Coventry Metal Works and Blackstone are also authorized to sell you some of their output of our finest OmniMechs."

"Hopefully we will soon put them to use," Trillian said, recognizing the subject was being changed.  She allowed that as she had nothing more to say on the prior matter.  "As for the military assistance?"

"That is still being debated, your alliance treaty with High King Nathaniel remains the key," he explained.

So it does.  "Well, I hope to make progress on that today."  She checked her watch.  "Indeed, I am due to see the Privy Council again on the matter.  I hope you have enjoyed the hospitality, Your Excellency."

"It has been most kind, Your Ladyship."  He stood and kissed her hand much like a Lyran nobleman from her side of the Glass would.  "I look forward to your success."

"Danke schon."

He nodded at that and departed.  Trillian watched him go before drawing in a sigh. Progress continues, but not nearly fast enough for my liking.  I wonder what new detour I'll see today in the Privy Council… no.  I will not think like that.  I can do this.  I can convince them.  Nathaniel is on my side, and I have won support elsewhere.  Eventually that must win out, they must recognize the truth of my arguments.

It was a silly idea.  They needn't recognize anything they didn't want to.  But it gave her some hope as she freshened up for the meeting.



Prince Peter's gavel brought the Privy Council meeting to order.  He nodded in Trillian's direction before saying, "I call this Privy Council meeting to order.  His Majesty wishes the Council's advice on the matter of the suggested alliance treaty with the Lyran Commonwealth beyond the Glass, particularly in light of the Clan forces even now engaging our troops on Timkovichi.  The proposed treaty terms, as they currently stand, have been laid out for your consideration.  Now, I believe Lady Trillian had some remarks prepared?"

"I do, Your Lordship."  Trillian glanced over her noteputer and stood.  "If the Council would consider, I have new proposals for the financial articles based on new data."

"I have new information to bring before the Privy Council."

The words came before Peter could react, before anyone could speak.  Grand Admiral Stewart stood, his countenance grim.  He looked straight to Peter.  "Your Highness, we recently received intelligence from trusted sources on the other side of the Glass pertaining to the political situation in our potential allies that are of great relevance to this matter."

Trillian's brow furrowed.  What can he mean, what could…  The realization dawned on her and it took every iota of control she had to stop the gasp that formed in her throat. No.  No no no no…

Peter nodded.  "Then by all means, let us deal with this first."

"Very well.  I shall be succinct.  We have learned that there has been a change in the Lyran Commonwealth, that the Archon Melissa Steiner that Lady Trillian represents is no longer in control of the Lyran government, and has been replaced by one Vedet Brewer."

Eyes, some incredulous, some suspicious, glanced around the room, to her, to Stewart, to all.  She felt the intake of breath from her own staff.  Control.  Keep control.  I can deal with this.

Nathaniel gave Stewart a surprised look before his eyes turned to Trillian, who met his with as much strength as she could.  Peter drew in a small sigh before saying, "Continue."

"Particulars are uncertain as the Lyran government has only stated Melissa is in recovery for exhaustion and Vedet is fulfilling her duties," said Stewart.  "But our sources confirm this is not so, that nearly two years ago, Melissa was forcefully removed as Archon by the LCAF High Command in favor of Vedet Brewer, possibly over her failure of policy regarding the Wolves. Moreso, Lady Trillian herself is known to have been back on Tharkad since the change, several months past.  One can only conclude she knows full well that Melissa was deposed and yet is here acting as if she has not been."

Trillian wanted to melt away.  How could… the Foxes.  The verdammt Foxes!  It has to be them.  Ingratiating themselves, perhaps, or sent by Vedet or Maurer.  She felt the blood rushing from her face while most of the room turned her way, in silent accusation or curiosity.

"So, the game is made clear."  Zento stood.  "All of this posturing, Lady Trillian, and what you really wanted was to use us as a political pawn.  You don't want us to fight the Clans, you want us to fight Vedet Brewer.  To restore your Archon to the throne she couldn't hold herself!  Our soldiers sacrificed for your power politics and—"

"No!"  Trillian bit her lip, but it was too late to recall the angry shout she'd sent at Zento and Stewart.  "I came to save my Commonwealth.  That has always been my goal.  The Clans must be stopped."

"Then why do you negotiate in Melissa's name, not Vedet Brewer's?!" Zento challenged.

"Because he is an usurper!" she cried.  "Because our generals turned on Archon Melissa and put him in charge, then lied to the Lyran people because they knew that their usurpation wouldn't go unchallenged!  Then Vedet proved incapable of preventing the Falcon attack, so now they are trapped, while Vedet will never relinquish his stolen throne, even as he leads our people to defeat!  So yes, I came to you and wrote the treaty in Melissa's name, because she is the rightful Archon, and so the High Command would finally be free to restore her without conflict!  Because I have no intention of seeing a single Arcadian soldier fight to restore the Archon; it will not be necessary, nor would it secure her anyway."

"This doesn't change that you hid this from us," Zento retorted.  "That you tried to manipulate us, hiding your political instability so we would think you a stronger ally."

"Oh, so I should have admitted my own realm is coming apart from the inside too?!"  Trillian laughed harshly.  "Tell me, Lord Senator, would you have done that?  Would you admit to your monarch's usurpation by a military clique if you were negotiating for your realm's very life?"  Her eyes swept the room.  "Would any of you?!  Step forward then, damn you!  Tell me, and everyone, that you would do what I did not, and admit such a shameful thing!"

The tears weren't supposed to be in her eyes, but they were there regardless.  The shame clawed at her, that her Commonwealth, her family's charge and trust, was reduced to this.  That they'd been degraded so badly.  She wanted nothing more but to incinerate Maurer and Vedet and Alaric Wolf and Seth Ward and Malvina Hazen and all of them for the pain they'd brought.  Even Melissa… even you would deserve to be scorched by that.  Your ambitions were too far, cousin.

There was a long, uncomfortable silence in the room, but none stepped forward.  Not even Zento, though he seemed ready to.  No, he held back as well.

Trillian grabbed the cup of water before her and swallowed it to wet her throat.  "This changes nothing of my argument either.  I never told you I needed your troops to secure my cousin.  I never claimed such a thing.  My argument is the same as before.  The Clans will not sit idle upon the Commonwealth's corpse.  It is not their way.  They will come through the Glass at some point, to raid, or to conquer, because war is their lifeblood, and glory in battle their one means of advancement.  The Falcon Mongols will be murderous if they are the ones, because they wish revenge on you for taking their leader.  Only the Commonwealth, saved and able to bind her wounds, can protect our side of the Glass and ensure peace for your side."  Trillian sat down.  "Yes.  I wish to restore my cousin to her rightful throne, and I would use your signature on the treaty to do it.  But I will not have you place her there by force any more than I would expect to be asked the same if the positions were reversed."

There was silence in the Council once more.  The men and women present were thoughtful in some cases, still angry in others, or simply uncertain.  She didn't know if she'd reached any of them.  She felt the deep fear, in the pit of her heart and soul, that she'd not reached enough, and figured that likely.  So my mission will end in failure.  But I gave it my all.  That… that will have to be enough, won't it?  That will have to be enough?  She knew it would not, but she feared breaking down if she didn't cling to the hope.

Zento finally stood.  "Your Highness."  He looked Peter's way.  "I move that we make a final resolution dismissing this treaty proposal, and provide a public statement as to why.  We have been misled, grossly, and it is time we focus on our interests and more important matters."

"No."

The answer did not come from Peter.  Trillian raised her eyes to see Nathaniel rising from his seat, his posture firm and his eyes intent on Zento.

"Majesty?"  Zento stared at him.  "This is most irregular."

"So is this entire arrangement.  Sudden new surprising intelligence brought here, fresh from the HPG?  Not provided in any reports from MI6 or other sources?  Oh, there is something quite irregular here indeed!"  Nathaniel's eyes turned to Trillian, who met them.  Something blazed there, icy and yet furious.  "Lady Trillian.  It is not easy to be in your position.  You have tried to be a loyal representative of your wronged Archon.  I believe you when you say you did not seek our military forces for her restoration, because we both know it would have been utterly foolish, and I assure you, I will only consider Archon Melissa my ally, never this usurper or the cabal that empowered him."

She nodded quietly.

"For weeks we have discussed this," Nathaniel said.  His eyes swept the room.  "The argument is made, yet none of you have raised an objection addressing it, nothing but quibbles and distractions.  Your reasons for not acting ring ever more hollow, especially now that our soldiers are fighting and dying to stop the murder of the people of Timkovichi."

"Majesty, we are giving you reasonable advice," protested Zento.  "We are thinking of the interests of our people.  It is not to get stuck in foreign wars, not when the Empire will have sixteen capital warships in two years!"

"I am well aware of those estimates, Lord Senator," Nathaniel snapped.  "It reinforces the need for peace."

"You cannot trust the Empire!  We have to—"

"—have to what, Lord Senator?!  Attack?  A pre-emptive strike, perhaps, as I have heard whispered since before I graduated Ayrshire?!"  Nathaniel shook his head.  "Did you not think I would hear of these things?  I know full well there are those here, in the AFRF, in the Government, who wish a new war with House Halas-Liao, and I'm quite certain many work together to promote that end, even if it means undermining my policies."  With that he shot a look towards Arnold.  The angle meant Trillian could not see Nathaniels' face, but the intent frown that formed on Arnold's told her enough.  "Well, let me be clear to you all here.  I shall not start a Fifth Succession War.  There will be no pre-emptive strikes on the Empire, no skirmishes, nothing, and if any one of you cannot accept this, I invite you to resign from your positions here and now!"

Trillian swallowed.  The intensity of Arnold's stare was no worse than her own recent sentiment.  He would have ignited Nathaniel with it, if he could.

"We will build to protect ourselves, yes," Nathaniel continued, "but we will also act to uphold our values and our true interests, which now means safeguarding the Glass that sits one jump from our frontier, in the territory of our closest ally.  Lady Trillian's arguments ring true.  We cannot leave the Commonwealth to wither and die under Clan assault, leaving them free to challenge us whenever they please.  This conflict is necessary for our security and is a moral one besides.  I am ready, here and now, to sign the alliance, and I hope you will agree and join me in recommending acceptance to Parliament.  But I will not accept further prevarication."

None spoke.  Trillian wondered if any would dare to.

When none did, not even Zento, Nathaniel turned to his grand-uncle.  "Prince Peter, I request a recess, to allow the Privy Council to consider the matter.  We will vote when they return."

Peter nodded and lightly rapped his gavel on the sound board of his desk.  "The Privy Council is in recess for one hour."

One by one various members stood and went for the door, some more quickly than others.  Some glared at the King, or at Zento, or at Arnold, or Trillian herself, and sometimes all of them, before departing.  Trillian exchanged frowns with Arnold and Zento before they left, and her staff were the last to go.

She noted that Peter nor Nathaniel moved.  They are not done, she imagined before departing the chambers.  We are so close to disaster.  Our fates are in Nathaniel's hands, but he is so young a ruler… and I fear he has just made enemies of his military, just as Melissa did of ours.

Nevertheless all she could do was walk and wait and hope.

[Steve]

The door to the Privy Council chamber closed resoundingly.  Peter glanced out at the empty chairs, some of which weren't even properly returned to their places, and let out a sigh.  "You are being impertinent," he said aloud.

"I am being impertinent?"  Nathaniel walked over to him, rolling a spare chair up and sitting in it.

"Honestly, this is why the Crown does not usually attend deliberative Privy Council sessions," Peter said.

"Grandmother never bothered trying to actually run the government, Uncle.  She was too busy running the 'Mech simulator or dueling or whatever else presented a challenge."

"My father didn't either," Peter snapped.  "He knew better.  The Privy Council deliberates and the Lord presents their results to the Crown, and the Crown decides what to do with them."

"He didn't have a cabal trying to undermine him," Nathaniel replied.

"Where are you getting this from?" asked Peter.  "This 'cabal' talk is dangerous."

"They've all but made it clear they're cooperating," Nathaniel pointed out.  "Today was the worst.  Fresh intelligence and it comes out in a Privy Council meeting, not even in the morning briefing?"

"An oversight, perhaps."  Peter sighed.  Damn you, Arnold.  This has your hand in it, whatever Stewart or Zento did.  You thought you were being clever.  Too clever by half, cousin!  "Talk of cabals will destabilize everything, Nathaniel.  It invites a witch hunt atmosphere, and a blow to the integrity of your Government.  Do not do that again, I must insist!"

To his credit, Nathaniel did not try a retort.  He shrugged and nodded.  "Fine.  I shall keep my suspicions to myself."

"And I shall make discreet enquiries," Peter promised.  "But right now, this alliance business.  You cannot mean to press them."

"The Second Royal Cuirassiers fight for their lives as we speak, Uncle.  As soon as the Donegal arrives, more of our people will be in battle as well.  We owe it to them to commit to a course."

"And is the course we should be committing to?  Given the Empire's building plans?  Our own are not so well off."

"The Federated Suns and the Flavian Principate remain allies, as does Ghastillia."  Nathaniel's eyes briefly rose, as if counting in his head.  "Together, we will have more capitals than the Empire."

"Only barely, and spread out.  Nor is this the end of their program."

"Then we build what we must, for defensive purposes, and continue the work of solidifying the Peace of Dieron."

"And hope Emperor Robert does not make fools of us all."  Peter rubbed at his forehead.  "House Marik will not accept a further reduction of their current defenses, not after the troops you've already relocated before the Glass formed.  And you can't pull troops from Skye or Bolan either or you will face a parliamentary revolt at the very least.  By my count, you will only get twelve 'Mech regiments and supporting divisions at best without undermining our defenses.  That isn't enough to help the Lyrans, not by the information we have. We can't do this alone, Nathaniel, and I'm not sure Ghastillia can send enough forces to help either."

"I have ideas on that, but I can't follow them until the alliance is secure."

"Parliament will be resistant."

"The Senate will not if I can say the Lord of the Privy Council has agreed to the alliance, and swayed the Council and the Government Offices in support."  Nathaniel leaned toward him.  "This is in your hands, Uncle Peter.  Please, help me do this.  Add your voice to mine, let us end this Clan threat, secure the Commonwealth, and keep the peace in our Inner Sphere.  I can't do it without you, especially not when I lead our troops through the Glass.  I'll need you and Lady Sara-Marie to keep things running here."

And there it is.  Peter rubbed at the forehead this time, a headache coming on.  My husband is wasting away and now I have to be in this vise.  God can be unkind.  "Nathaniel, have you considered if you are wrong?  If the Imperial buildup is not for defensive purposes but for launching one overwhelming strike, capable of bowling our defenses over and crushing our Navy?  The Empire's strategy has always been to concentrate naval force heavily on strategic offensives, and the fleet they're building, with interior lines, can allow them to beat us and our prospective allies in detail.  Nor can we ignore the threat that they will ally with the Combine."

"The Combine is unreliable, and that would merely ensure the Concord left the Federated Suns alone," Nathaniel said.  "The Empire is isolated.  It's been that way since they attacked the Federated Suns near the end of the war.  The fleet they're building is large, but not large enough to safely focus to the degree you're talking.  We need to look past what came before.  My father's dead, Uncle Peter.  He's not coming back.  And I know they killed him, but it doesn't do us, or his memory, any good to get trapped in that.  Not like Grandmother Jackie did.  I'm making progress with Robert, and even if I go, Lady Jessup and Sara-Marie can continue that work.  He's interested in peace.  And even if I'm wrong… how hard would it be to face the Empire if the Jade Falcons and Wolves are snapping at us through the Glass, forcing us to divert ships and troops to keep them out?  The Commonwealth can be our guards there, allowing us to focus our efforts on the Empire or the Combine or both."

Nathaniel stood.  "I will be back when the recess ends.  Please, Uncle.  I need you to support me here.  With you at my back, we can make this work, and the Federation will be secure."  His hand pressed down on Peter's shoulder supportively.  "You've always been there for me, after all.  I know I can count on you."

Oh my dear boy.  Peter looked up at him, trying not to feel the hurt in him, the guilt, while Nathaniel gave him a final smile, one just like he'd had growing up, whenever they'd had a talk, whenever Peter gave him the ear he needed or the words necessary.  He watched Nathaniel go out the door and felt his hear ache. James.  Your boy would have made you proud, so proud.  But I may have to disappoint him anyway.  Damn him, it is a good argument.  A very good argument, with sound political and military logic, but it may not be enough.  If I can't persuade the others, if it causes a breach, or a scandal…

The sound of the door opening prompted Peter to look up.  He sighed quietly at the arrival of not just Stewart, Zento, and Arnold but also Air Marshal-General Juliana Steiner, who was not a member of the Privy Council but like Arnold certainly one of the "cabal".  And we have become one, with Nathaniel on the throne.  During Jackie's reign we were just an informal cabinet of sorts, to determine advice, but now…  He swallowed.  If he ever finds out, poor Nathan will be devastated.  I may as well stab him in the back and through the heart.

"So he's done it," Juliana said.  "Just… issued a demarche to the Privy Council?"

"He's called upon the Council to accept the treaty, yes.  He has not ordered anything.  Not to them, anyway."

"Ranting about a cabal against him, it made him look unhinged," Arnold protested.  "He has this… monomania of riding the triumphant hero to save the Lyrans.  Cousin, you must do something.  Stop him."

"He is the High King.  I have tried to persuade him, but he is insistent.  Nor does it help when you pull tricks like that!  Using fresh intelligence before it's even been put in proper reports?  The irregularity probably has half the Privy Council thinking the same thing!"

"It doesn't matter.  He may be the High King, but he is not the Coordinator of the Combine or the Emperor of the Capellans, it is time he met the limits of his power," urged Arnold.  "Encourage the Privy Council to resist him, to refuse him, and not allow Lady Trillian any more sessions.  Take her off the agenda completely and publicly decline the alliance!  It will leave her efforts in Parliament listless and pointless, and without Parliamentary support he cannot fund his war.  With the press we'll generate against him he'll have to back down.  If he doesn't, if he invokes Crown authority to rewrite the budget, it'll mean revolts."

"Revolts, Arnold?"  Peter looked up at him before standing.  "Are you seriously threatening that?  Revolts?"

"The people of the Federation have a right to resist being drawn into a war that doesn't interest them."

"Somehow I think you would be saying differently if it were the Empire he was targeting," Peter scoffed.

Arnold shut his mouth, but his frown said volumes.

"The information was damaging to Trillian, her defense aside," Stewart said.  "If you act against her, you would carry the Privy Council."

"If I act against her, I offend the King, and I lose my influence with him," Peter pointed out.  "Nor are they wrong.  As we speak, our soldiers die fighting the Clans."

"And that is on his head," Arnold growled.  "You let him send them!"

"He is the High King, I let nothing."  Peter stepped up to Arnold.  "Cousin, you have lost your objectivity."

"I am merely keeping my head.  This Glass affair is a sideshow.  Let the Ghasties and the Commies worry about the Clans.  Archduke Ethan's Kell Hounds can deal with any incursions into our territory."  Arnold folded his arms.  "You need to get him on board.  Our window is closing shut.  We must strike the Empire's yards in the next year."

"That is not happening, and you know it.  You heard him"

"True, but that doesn't mean we need commit to this alliance," Stewart said.  "Lady Trillian can be stopped, and the King's impulses curtailed.  We can go back to building up, and the threat of these Clans may even help with that."

"The people of the Isle of Skye expect the Federation to protect them from the Empire," Zento added.  "We are distressed by the King's distractions."

"The King refitted your militia and approved the reactivation of the 7th Skye Rangers."

"Are you defending him, Peter?" Juliana asked sharply.

"I am making the point that any would."  Peter took in a breath.  But I am defending him.

"You helped spoil that boy, and now we will all pay for it," she hissed.

"It's time to make your place clear, cousin," Arnold said.  "Put an end to Nathaniel's foolishness.  Stop this alliance nonsense in its tracks and end Lady Trillian's efforts to sway the Council.  Let her Lyrans deal with the problems they've made for themselves, it is not our place."

Peter narrowed his eyes and took in the expressions of the others.  Juliana's face was ice, but it was clear she agreed with Arnold.  Zento was grinning, which always came off as smug.  And Stewart was typically neutral, though undoubtedly in general agreement.

This is it then.  The rock and the hard place.  He pursed his lips.  They are not wrong about the threat of the Empire.  Robert Halas-Liao may want peace, but the Dowager hates us as much as Arnold hates them, the harpy may truly live longer for every Proctor she kills.  And their extended naval program can't be ignored or wished away by peace.  Peace only lasts if power is equal.  And this war… it is so dangerous.  It could set back our own rearmament by years.  Cost us our best troops, equipment, leave our reserves insufficient.  The risk we'd be taking…

He was already thinking of it.  The words he'd use.  "I cannot recommend His Majesty's desired policy to the Privy Council.  The threat of the Empire's naval armaments is too grave, the risks to our defenses too heavy.  While some aid might be furnished, troops and a formal alliance are too far, and I vote against—"

The words stopped there as the image came to his mind.  The shocked betrayal on his grand-nephew's face at seeing Peter turn on him openly.  The pain and humiliation.  The image blended with his memories of his oldest sister, of poor Jackie, alone on her throne or in her chair, holding holos of Prince James, of their parents, of her husband, the loss and heartbreak.  He thought of Nathaniel's face with that heartbreak.  What would it do to him, to James' little boy, to have Peter stab him in the back like that?  After all the trust put into him?

I can't do it.  I… I can't.

"Cousin, my lords and ladies."  Peter drew in a breath.  "I will say this once, for you, and to be brought to those whom you stand for here."

"Peter?"  Arnold's face darkened.

Peter met him in the eyes, though he spoke to all.  "As Lord of His Majesty's Privy Council, I only have this to say about the matter.  I expect you to put an end to this sniping and undercutting of the Crown's policies.  I am going to endorse the alliance before the Privy Council as necessary for Federation security."  The color left their faces, but before verbal retribution could begin, he continued on.  "And furthermore, for the three of you in uniform, you will not do a damn thing to undermine the war effort.  From this point forward I expect you to follow your sacred oaths and to shut up, sit down, and obey the orders of your High King, and if you can't in good conscience do that, you will resign as the honor of your uniform demands.  Is that clear?"

With the exception of Stewart, all betrayed rage.  Arnold's was so pale his skin turned marble, Juliana's took on the look of snow, and Zento's face went from red to purple.  Stewart, meanwhile, only nodded.  "Of course, Your Highness.  We serve at the pleasure of House Proctor and the Crown."

"I am not a soldier to be ordered—!"

"No, you are not, Senator Zento," Peter replied.  "Feel free to do as your conscience demands.  On that matter, I know for a fact that you are privy to military intelligence that has not been widely disseminated to the Privy Council or the Senate or any Parliamentary Committee on which you are a member, so if I hear one iota of that information in a debate or on a news cast, I will personally see to a security investigation that will certainly reveal this breach.  Am I clear?"

Zento's face went fully purple.  "Clear," he hissed.

"You sentimental fool."  Arnold's voice was a low rumble.  "That boy will be the death of our realm."

"Your monomania about the Empire will kill us first, cousin.  Now, do I have your obedience, or your resignation, Field Marshal Proctor-Steiner?"  Peter met his cousin's hating eyes with a cold glare.

For a moment he wondered if Arnold might actually strike him, or spit upon him and declare resignation.  The veins on his temple stood out for a moment before he turned.  "I will obey my oath," he said, back now to Peter.  "And when this blows up in the face of that little brat, I'll see to it that you get yours for this betrayal of our House, cousin."  With those words, he stomped away, Juliana and Zento behind.  Stewart took the moment to nod before departing as well.

Stewart is not breaking from them, but as always, he is looking out for his position.  We will have to be careful with them all.  Peter sank back into his chair, head pounding.  And so I cross my Rubicon.  Iacta alea est.



Trillian returned just before the recess ended.  Reading the room, she knew she'd lost supporters here, but hoped it wasn't too many.

But what truly interested her was the departure of Lord Arnold.  Stewart sat alone, quiet and having lost some color in his face, and Zento seemed to have just come down from an apoplectic fit.

Peter, who looked ten years older, called the meeting to order.  "His Majesty has placed before us a vote to consider, in principle and in fact, Lady Trillian's proposed alliance treaty.  Should the vote be in the affirmative, it shall be communicated to the Government Press Office for dissemination, and the announcement made to the Speaker of the Assembly and the President of the Senate."

Lady Howard stood.  "Your Highness, may I ask how the advice of the Lord of the Privy Council as to the wisdom of the Crown's request?"

"You may."  Peter drew in a breath and before taking a drink of water.  It added to Trillian's torment as she waited to hear if he was going to see her to probably victory or drive the knife into her mission, and her own heart.  She kept her eyes on him, not daring to close them, hoping for a sign of his intentions.

"It is my advice that His Majesty's strategic and moral judgment is sound on the matter, not to mention our moral and ethical obligation to oppose the brutality of the Clan onslaught.  I am in favor of the alliance treaty and urge its passage."

Gott im Himmel, danke schön. Trillian let out a breath she hadn't realized she was holding, cursing her failed control in the process.

Zento lowered his head and scowled, and a few others in the room were plainly unhappy.  Many more were surprised.  Stewart's face remained unmoving.

Nathaniel was smiling.

"I call the Privy Council to a vote," Peter said.  "The clerk shall record the votes as they are registered.  My own vote is, as stated, in favor.  Lady Howard?"

"In favor."

"Lord Lee?"

"In favor."

"Lord Proctor-Grimke?"

"Opposed."

"Lord Cassel?"

"In favor."

The vote continued on, moving on into the Cabinet, the former AFRF Chiefs of Staff, the judicial lords.  Every "Opposed" was a barb thrust into Trillian's spirit, every "In favor" pricked one out, and the count was tight by her reckoning, though she thought the early lead was holding steady.

"Twenty-nine votes for, twenty-five votes against," declared the clerk.  "The alliance treaty with the Lyran Commonwealth enjoys the endorsement of the Privy Council.  The results will be communicated forthwith."

"Congratulations, my Lady," Marienberg murmured to her, clasping her shoulder.  Trillian fought back the tears.  This wasn't quite over.  She still had to win in their Parliament, and that would be a fight too, especially given the way Zento glared at her.  But this was the first hurtle cleared.  She had Nathaniel's backing and now that of his government ministries and official advisors.  I might just do this, she thought.  I might save the Commonwealth, from the Clans and from Vedet.

With a hammer of his gavel Peter adjourned the session.  Again everyone filed out.  Trillian intercepted as many of her supporters as she could, thanking each, and finally met Nathaniel at the door.  "It sounds like it is time we finalize the treaty," he said cheerily.  "I have an open schedule today if you'd like to join me and Lady Jessup for a late lunch?"

This reminded her she'd skipped lunch on account of nervousness.  "I would be grateful, Your Majesty," she said.  "Let me go get the alliance treaty."

On the way back to their suites, she listened to her staff remind her of this point and that, and recorded them in her memory for later reference.  Her heart hadn't quite slowed down yet.  So close.  I didn't think I'd get this far, especially after they found out about Vedet.

The staff peeled off from her once they reached the hall for their rooms, leaving her alone when she arrived at her suite door.  She swiped the key to open it and entered.  To her surprise, a uniformed presence was waiting, in LCAF blue at that.  She checked the name habitually and recognized it.  "Leutnant McCarter, right?"

The young officer nodded.  "Yes, my Lady."  Her Donegal brogue struck another familiar chord.  "Kaptain Mullen sent me down with our monthly expense report for yer signature."

"Right.  I lost track of the time of month."  Trillian sighed and smiled.  "I didn't expect to see you so soon."

"It's quite fine, my Lady."  McCarter handed her the noteputer.

Trillian took it and set it down on the table beside the printing of the draft treaty, still marked down with her proofing work these past few days.  "Numbers seem about right.  I'm glad the crew has enjoyed leave."

"It's quite a world.  An' how's it going for you?"

"Busy busy busy…"

There was a rush of air.  Trillian's brain barely had time to register it before a band of thin, tight pressure pulled on her neck and throat, squeezing her windpipe nearly shut.  She gasped in surprise, or rather, would have gasped if she could breathe.

What self-defense training she'd had over her life kicked in, and Trillian tried to shift her body weight, to get some leverage, but she couldn't.  She was forced against the table by the weight of McCarter's body, her hips pinned down, hands desperately trying and failing to free her throat from the garotte.  She tried to utter a protest, but it was no more successful than the air filling her burning lungs in passing the wire.

A harsh German voice, no longer that friendly brogue, hissed into her ear.  "General Maurer and Archon Brewer send their regards, traitor."

Trillian struggled to move again, but there was no use, and the wire on her throat tightened so hard she thought it might slice through her neck.  Everything started to go dark.

[Steve]

34 - Struggles



Royal Palace
Roslyn, Eastern Islay
Arcadia, Arcadia Royal March
Royal Federation
26 January 3143

Peter left the Privy Council meeting with the firm intention of returning to his rooms and checking on his ailing spouse.  But with every step his mind gravitated back to the practical implications of what he'd just enabled.  His endorsement, and the Privy Council's agreeing vote that included most of the Cabinet's votes in the affirmative, meant that the treaty was likely to pass in some fashion, and whether it did or not, could cause further disruption in Parliament if terms were particularly unwelcome or misunderstood.  There were parts of the treaty he wanted to see firmed up, with better wording, if it was going to pass Parliament's scrutiny.

By the time he made it to the lift, he'd decided that, as much as he wanted to see how Kevin was recovering, he needed to speak with Trillian first, and some of the particulars he had in mind.  He sent the lift to the eighth floor instead of the third.  Upon its arrival on the landing he was waived through the security checkpoint and into the wing of suites where the Lyran delegation was housed.  Trillian's rooms were the largest suite, set into the Palace's northeast corner, and he followed the appropriate hall until he came to the double doors.  He noted the electronic lock was secure and knocked at the door.

No one answered.



Every second was agony.  Crimson shades and blackness danced at Trillian's vision while she tried in vain to get free of MacCarter's deadly grip.  So close, I'm so close, she despaired.  It can't happen like this!  She struggled to get her hand under the wire but couldn't, nor could she pull away with how MacCarter had her pinned against the table.

Desperately Trillian pitched forward, as if to fully lay over the table.  It put even more strain on her choking throat to do so, but it ensured MacCarter came forward too.  Their weight, together, pushed the entire table over, causing both to fall on top of it.  It was a painful landing.  Even worse, MacCarter rolled with it enough to keep the garrote on her throat.  The assassin didn't flinch from keeping the pressure up, rolling to pin Trillian to the ground.

It was all for nothing.  She was about to die.

Just as the despair set in, the door flew open.  Through her bleary, diminishing vision Trillian faintly recognized the face of Prince Peter.  A moment later heat and weight pressed down on her.  There was a sharp blow, a crack, and an involuntary cry.  The press of the wire lost its strength and Trillian was finally able to get a hand under it, pulling it from her throat enough to suck in a breath of air.  Her aching lungs received it like a dying fire receiving fresh fuel.

There were more blows behind her before the particular buzzing noise of a needler gun going off.  A male cry of pain echoed in Trillian's ear and some of the weight behind her moved.  Trillian turned and looked up at the sight of MacCarter's right hand holding the needler towards Prince Peter, now laid against the fallen table with blood issuing from his shoulder.  The gun started to swing back towards her.  Self-defense training sprung into place and Trillian's legs shot out, one going up against MacCarter's shin while the other leg lashed out in a kick at the assassin's knee.  The blow didn't break anything, but it threw MacCarter's balance off.  She pitched forward.  While her head still felt like it was spinning in place Trillian forced enough movement to roll on MacCarter, grasping at her right arm to get the gun away.  One hand, then the other, managed to get onto MacCarter's wrist and twist.  The assassin hissed in pain, then yowled.  Just a little more, Trillian thought, urging her arm to keep the pressure up until the firearm was free.

The assassin's left arm moved.  It didn't move properly at all, given the damage done to it by Peter in freeing her from the garrote, but it moved fast enough that Trillian was taken by surprise by the punch.  Her head snapped to the side and her grip slackened.  Agony flooded her belly at the sharp impact there by MacCarter's knee, costing Trillian the breath she was taking and leaving her too stunned to keep her grip on the right wrist.  The assassin pulled the arm free just as Trillian, trying to recover her focus, turned her head back to face MacCarter.  With cold, unfeeling eyes, the assassin's needler came up towards her head.

Behind MacCarter, a massive form loomed into view, moving at high speed from the hall.  Clearing the open doors, they shifted from a sprint to what Trillian’s pain-addled mind still recognized as a diving rugby-style tackle, landing on MacCarter and crushing her, the large armored glove coming down on her hand and covering the needler completely.

"Clear the room!" a voice barked.  Trillian lifted her eyes at the power armor-clad soldiers appearing at the door, two of which moved inward.  Two more came up behind them, in the same colors and insignia of the Second Proctor Guards' Eighteenth Royal Rangers Regiment.  "Summon the medics!  We have wounded!"

Trillian fought her vertigo and pain to get back to a sitting position. The guard who made the dive on MacCarter was standing up.  There was no movement from Trillian's would-be killer.  Her hand was crumpled, the bones broken given the ferocity of the way the soldier grabbed it, and the needler held within looked like the barrel was slightly bent.  A few visible wounds now showed, where she'd been crushed enough to break skin.  Her cold eyes were now completely lifeless and her head hung unnaturally from her shoulders, the neck broken by the impact of the guard landing on her in his suit.

"Clear!  Moving on!"  The soldiers moved further in, the doors just large enough to permit clearance for their power armor.

"Are you all right?"  Peter's voice was tight with pain, but it was strong.  She turned towards her unexpected savior.   The right arm of his suit was soaked crimson with his blood, now dripping onto the carpet.  His shoulder was a mess of fabric and torn flesh from the needler shot.

"Alive," she managed, her voice unintentionally harsh given she was still trying to get her breath.  "You're hurt."

"Flesh wound.  Mostly."

By this point the better part of a platoon were in the room, with one squad clearing the rest of the suite and another holding the entrance door and the guest parlor.  Trillian grabbed at the covering cloth of the fallen table and wadded it to press against Peter's shoulder.  "Thank you," she said.  "I… it happened so fast, I never expected…"  Maurer, it has to be.  He found a Loki operative disloyal to Melissa.  Vedet wouldn't have a chance of finding one.

"You're welcome, Lady Trillian," Peter said.  "I was coming to see you about the treaty.  Heard a crash through the door, realized something was wrong, called for help and went in."  He laughed bitterly.  "I always thought my days of getting shot at were over.  Even in politics."

"I envy your Inner Sphere that you can feel that way," Trillian said.  She focused entirely on treating the wound, all the way until medics arrived and shooed her away.  She went over and lowered herself into a chair, one not knocked over, and worked to regain her breath.  A glance at her noteputer and the inactive screen showed her neck was already turning blue from the garrote wire, and her cheek and eye were puffing up from the last blow she'd taken.  Her belly continued to ache as well.

The squad that went through the suite came back.  "Everything clear of hostiles," one of the soldiers said, voice slightly crackly through the suit radio.  "Ready for the security teams to do a full sweep."

"Good job."  Another of the armored guardsman turned towards her.  Given the bits of blood on his suit, she realized it was the guard who jumped on MacCarter.  "Sergeant John Laszlo, Lady" he said, in a slight Germanic accent.  "Do you need anything?  Another medic is coming for your wounds."

"A glass of water, and a printer," she replied, somewhat hotly.  Now that she was out of danger her fury at Maurer and Vedet was growing.  They sent an assassin with me.  And that assassin was so devoted as to try this over… over what?  Melissa's name on the treaty?  I should have known better.  Some of her fury turned inward.  I should have expected this from them, but I was so focused on everything else…

"Sergeant."  A guardswoman in the same suit stepped up and saluted.  "Colonel Francis, Colonel Laughlin, and Director Mwangi are on their way."  Trillian recognized the second and third name mentioned, one being the commander of the Lifeguards Regiment and the other the Director of the Royal Security Service.  "SIS wants us to keep the suite clear until further notice.  EOD personnel en route."

"Put a team in each room and a squad here and outside the door.  No entry until personnel are cleared."

"And my printer, Sergeant?" Trillian asked.

"My Lady, we can get you one while you're seen to in the palace infirmary."

"I do not req—"  She stopped herself.  She could hardly return to Nathaniel looking like this, nor could she just leave Prince Peter's side.  And a suspicion gripped her. Was MacCarter the only one?  Could another of my staff be an assassin in waiting too, or working with them?  "Thank you, Sergeant.  Let me collect my noteputer and we shall go."

"I can provide you with another.  Everything here needs to remain for the security investigation, Director Mwangi's orders."

"Very well."  She stood.  She had some slight disorientation, but it was starting to fade.  The pain, however, was not.  "I'm ready, but I wish to go with Prince Peter."

"Understood, Lady Trillian."

The damaged doors swung wide, admitting a stretcher pushed by an orderly with nurses and a physician following.  The orderly and nurses went to work on Prince Peter while Trillian watched, getting her feet back.  They departed together.




In the AFRF's operational levels of the subbasement, the usual wardroom was set aside, and the meeting attendants gathered slowly as they made their way through the appropriate checkpoints.  Arnold fumed with quiet frustration at the even smaller ranks of their ad hoc committee, with some of his peers no longer attending.  Senator Stewart was likewise gone, though Zento and Deputy Director Rinaldi made due appearances, the latter coming in late.  "Apologies," she said before taking her seat.  "The fiasco upstairs had me dealing with Directors Mwangi and Frobisher."

"Lady Trillian survived, I hear?" Zento asked, in the tone of a man very much wishing to be wrong.

"She did.  Prince Peter came to discuss treaty matters with her and stumbled upon the assassin strangling her.  He was shot in the resulting altercation, but the Second Proctor Guards infantry who responded to his call stopped the assassin before she could kill either Peter or Trillian."

"A shame he was not a minute later."

A few sets of eyes glared toward Zento.  He returned the glares.  "She has poisoned the King's mind and turned him against our interests.  Her death would bring an end to this mockery."

"Or would require us to retaliate against her killers as a matter of principle," Admiral Lumwe replied.  "An attack on a royal guest, in the Palace?  That would have been a supreme humiliation we could not tolerate."

"An excellent point, Admiral," Arnold said.  "So let's be thankful for my cousin's sense of timing, and his survival."

"Even with the way he betrayed us today?"

To General Montague's question, Arnold nodded quietly.  "Yes.  I will have my reckoning with him for that, but he is still flesh and blood, he is a Proctor-Steiner.  Had he died we would have all been honorbound to demand justice from the Lyran assassins."

"Our battle is not yet lost," Juliana Steiner insisted.  "We can bring this fight to Parliament.  If Senator Zento and others can block support, then there will be no funding for the war, Nathaniel will have to back down."

Baroness Newson, the AFRF's Quartermaster-General, spoke up next.  "Yet you may promote a logjam on the spending we do need, since it will rile up the Peace bloc in the process.  Maybe Admiral Stewart is correct, we should accept the conflict is coming and ensure the buildup is directed towards what we need to resist the Empire."

"Even if we prevail in this fight, it is a distraction that moves us past our window of opportunity!" Arnold shouted.  "They will never defeat the Clans before 3145, not with how strong they are, Nathaniel's war will give the Empire the time it needs!  We have to stop it."

"You are being unrealistic," General Rosinsky, Newson's chief of staff, barked.  "The King's wishes are clear, he will refuse any proposal to strike the Empire.  We may as well use the fight he does want as a chance to build up our forces and prepare them for the next war."

"That's a defeatist sentiment, General," Juliaia retorted.  "We can still make this work."

"Not from where we're sitting," Newson said.  "You lost Peter's support, without Peter we have no hope of persuading the King.  It's time we accepted EAGLE CRY is never happening and begin preparations for alternative solutions."

"Then we will be at war with the Empire within ten years, and at a severe disadvantage," Arnold predicted.  I cannot believe I am hearing this.  I cannot believe everyone is giving up so easily, all because of my foolish cousin!  "And I cannot, in good conscience, simply give up the chance to turn things our way."

"You have no remaining options to 'turn things our way', Lord Arnold," General Paul Steiner-Brewer observed.  "Peter's words are clear.  The King will not be swayed, and he will not try.  We must follow policy or resign, and I will not resign for your ego."

Arnold's temper slipped loose.  His fists slammed on the table.  "Then go and be damned, coward!" he shouted.  "If you haven't the strength of will to stay with this fight to the end, you're no better than the diplomats who signed that damned Dieron peace treaty when we nearly had the Empire broken!  No better than the politicians of Parliament that forced Queen Jacqueline to give up on MORNING STAR right when we'd almost secured Sirius!  Time and time again our soldiers win battles and victories that people like you throw away out of fear!  Well, go off and join them, but as far as I'm concerned, you have no right to wear that uniform!"

Lord Paul's face paled with rage.  "I lost my eldest son and daughter in that war," he hissed.  "Unlike you.  You lost none of your own children.  So don't you damn well evoke my dead children against me again, or I'll have you for a duel, regulations be damned."  His eyes swept over the room.  "I do not trust the Empire, and will do all in my power to make ready for their eventual attack, but this council is quickly becoming the sort of cabal that could bring down our Federation.  Come what may, we have a duty to stand with our ruler, wrong as he is, and ensure the war he is embarking on will be fought quickly and successfully, whatever our feelings.  Then we can resume our work to prepare King Nathaniel and the realm for our next war with the Empire.  It may not be under the circumstances EAGLE CRY would have allowed us, but we must face reality."  He glared at Arnold once more.  "No matter what is thought by some of our number."

"I am still going to endeavor to kill this alliance in the Senate, General, whatever you say," Zento insisted.  "The Isle of Skye must be protected, not Lyrans a cosmos away!"

If Zento had been hoping for angry repudiation, he didn't get it.  Paul Steiner-Brewer waved him off dismissively.  "Then do so, Lord Senator, and if you succeed, then so be it.  But if you do not, we must be ready to see our realm through to victory as quickly and painless as possible, and ensure we are ready for the battles to come."

"It is clear we have little more to discuss," said Admiral Stewart.  "We'll meet again after we see the results of Senator Zento's efforts."  He stood.  "I respectfully suggest everyone be careful in departing.  Security will be tighter than ordinary given this assassination business."

Nods and murmurs of agreement came as the assembled filed out.  Arnold stewed in his own unspent wrath and fury.  Damn that boy, damn Peter for spoiling him, damn Lady Trillian for her honeyed words, and damn the Devil for making that Hell-spawned portal in the first place!  Everything I've worked years to set up is unraveling!

"Marshal."  The voice of Juliana Steiner prompted him to raise his head.  She and Deputy Director Rinaldi were the only people left in the wardroom.  "Our colleagues will only go so far.  I suggest we pave the way for them by ensuring they have the information they will need once the time for action comes."

"It  is about all we can do," he said, anger still festering.  "But I fear that the Empire will get the last laugh here."

"Oh, there are always methods we can use to progress matters," Rinaldi said candidly.  "But for the good of our realm, we must act within the confines of our system, as great as a struggle as it may prove."

"Exactly," Juliana agreed.  "Preparations have been made and must be continued.  We need you for that."

"Then I am yours," Arnold said.  "Come what may, we will save our nation from our King, even if we can't save him from his own idealistic stupidity."




Part of the first subbasement level was given over to the Palace Infirmary.  Staffed by civilian medical personnel hired by the Palace itself, it was primarily for the benefit of the residents and work force should medical emergencies arise, even containing a surgical theater, as well as a direct outlet to an outside helipad for evacuation to a full hospital if it was necessary.

Nathaniel entered the infirmary at a rapid pace, coming from his personal lift, flanked by a pair of Chasseur-clad Lifeguards of the Lifeguard Armored Infantry.  An attending nurse directed him to the wound care ward.  He approached the only occupied beds.  Peter and Trillian were already in gowns being treated.  "Thank God," Nathaniel said to them at approaching.  Peter still looked a little pale to his eye, with his shoulder tightly bandaged.  Trillian looked rather worse.  A band of purple-blue crossed over her throat and another splotch of the color marred the left side of her face.  "I was afraid of the worst.  You have my most heartfelt apologies for this attack, I have already demanded Director Mwangi launch a full investigation into how this could have happened."

"Thank you, Majesty," Trillian said politely.  As ever she gave the air of a natural diplomat, though Nathaniel thought she looked rather less poised than she'd been elsewhere.  Her body posture was still tense, even here in the safety of his infirmary.  Would I be any different had I been assaulted in my private rooms?

"Director Mwangi tells me your killer was working for the usurpers on your Tharkad?"

Trillian nodded.  "She said as much.  That was all she said, in fact.  Many in the LIC are supposedly on the fence, with Loki loyal to Archon Melissa, but Maurer may have found an agent willing to work for him instead.  Either way, it's clear I was being watched for 'disloyalty' to the new regime.  She must have seen the draft treaty and Melissa's name in Vedet's place."

"I've asked for security to confirm how she got through our checkpoints with a firearm."

"They will find the needler is made of scanner-resistant composites, and may be a self-assembled weapon easily carrier in pieces that wouldn't identify as a weapon."  Trillian shook her head.  "LIC has their ways."

As does the SIS, I suspect.  Nathaniel nodded and turned his head to Peter.  "Uncle, thank you, is there anything I can do for you?"

Peter smiled thinly.  "Nothing I can think of at the moment, Nathaniel, and you're welcome.  Though actually… can you make sure Kevin is all right?"

"I visited him while waiting for clearance to see you, he's coming down as soon as he's cleared.  He's worried, but with Director Mwangi's help we reassured him you were in reasonably good health, so he's doing fine himself."

A small sigh escaped Peter's throat.  'Good.  I don't need him hurting himself out of fear for me."

"I made it clear to him, as his sovereign, that he had to care for himself to," Nathaniel said, grinning softly.  "He took it to heart."  All the same, he's right to be upset.  We all are.  This should not happen in the Palace!  Just looking at Peter's bandaged wound filled him with anger and a small sense of violation.  Someone must answer for this!

Nathaniel turned back to Trillian.  "The sooner we get the alliance signed, the sooner you can return home and sort out these usurpers, yes?"

She nodded once, briefly obscuring the angry bruise on her neck.  "Yes, Your Majesty."

"You may call me Nathaniel here, Lady Trillian, the infirmary isn't exactly a formal setting," he said.

"Very well, Nathaniel.  The same goes to you."

He nodded.  "When you are up to it, I should like to get the alliance terms finalized for Parliament's consideration.  In the meantime, given the state of your rooms, I have a spare suite in the family's wing I can provide, under the direct observation of the Lifeguards."

Trillian nodded, a small smile forming on her face.  "Thank you, Nathaniel, for that hospitality."

"You're welcome.  We'll also investigate the rest of your staff and see if any of them were in collusion with this."

"Lord Marienberg is above reproach," Trillian said, "as are my other advisors and domestic aides.  I can't speak for the entirety of the Archon's Fist's crew, obviously, but Kapitän Mullen would not be in league with the usurpers, nor can I imagine the same of his senior officers."

"I see.  I'll leave it to you, then, and see to it you receive all relevant information in our investigation."  It is better if her people do this, he reasoned. A terrible thing I cannot make my own displeasure known more greatly to the usurpers, but it would destabilize too much.  And to think today looked to be a triumph.  If Peter hadn't been there…  "Well, I had hoped to continue talks this evening, but I don't wish to impose given your condition."

Trillian's smile grew.  She reached under the pillow beside her and brought out a tablet noteputer.  "I am more than willing to continue our work, Nathaniel.  I consider it an appropriate response to the usurpers and their assassins."

"So it would be."  He glanced about until he found a nearby chair, which he pulled over.  "Uncle, I do not wish to impose?"

Peter chuckled softly.  "Better this than getting bored waiting for release.  Perhaps you should call Lady Jessup and have her participate?  Remotely, if she doesn't wish to join us in person."

"An excellent suggestion."  Nathaniel pulled out his comm.  As he brought up Jessup's contact, a thought crossed his mind.  This is the kind of negotiation that goes into the history books for oddness, isn't it?

Still, despite the setting, he could think of no better way to respond to the assassin's masters than to get the treaty approved immediately.

[Steve]

Rolling Thunder: The Royal Cuirassiers

Formed to meet the needs of the Second Age of War, the Royal Cuirassiers were born with the Royal Federation itself in 3037.  A corps of hard-hitting line, assault, and heavy cavalry formations, the Cuirassiers inaugurated the birth of the combined arms formations of the Royal Federation as they are today.  Their performance in the War of Donegalian Succession was seen as sufficient proof of the concept and two more units would be raised by the outbreak of the Terran War, where the Royal Cuirassiers were often in the thick of the fighting with the Terran forces.

Unlike the Strikers, who employ lighter formations to complement heavy cavalry potential with raiding, the Royal Cuirassiers are line units with heavy cavalry and assault capabilities.  Given the preference for employing them in offensive operations the Cuirassiers have often been among the first units to engage enemy forces, which took a toll in the Fourth Succession War, reducing them from a proud corps of eight RCTs to the three still in operation today.  Despite this cut to their size, members of the Corps of Royal Cuirassiers take pride in the accomplishments of their branch and await the call to action, when the enemies of the Royal Federation will again face the rolling thunder of their heavyweight 'Mechs and tanks.


Commanding Officer

Lieutenant General Sir Hans von Luckner has served in the Corps of Cuirassiers his whole career.  Born on Westerstede in the heart of the Donegal Royal March, von Luckner is a career tank officer who served through the Fourth Succession War in various Royal Armored regiments assigned to the Cuirassiers, rising to command level through skill at combined arms operations.  His promotion in 3141 was seen as well-deserved after his stints at the Ayrshire Military Sciences Academy and the Nagelring.  He is rigorously and studiously apolitical and demands the same of his subordinates, to the point that he ordered the removal of the 3rd Royal Cuirassiers' former CO after said officer criticized High King Nathaniel's announced peace policies.  He commands the Corps from Fort Marsden on Donegal.


Forces

The Royal Cuirassiers overwhelmingly favor heavy-weight machines of all types to fit their preferred mission profiles.  Some assault and medium or even light-weight 'Mechs and tanks are found in their ranks regardless, up to one third in the case of the 1st Royal, typically serving in specialist assault and reconnaissance companies.  As Royal chartered units they receive a fair amount of the best equipment in the AFRF, though they are not lavishly equipped like the Household Guards or Royal Guards, with older designs, especially first and second generation OmniMechs and OmniVehicles, consisting of up to half of their TO&Es.


Colors and Insignia

The Royal Cuirassiers employ a coat of arms insignia depicting a white hawk clad in a stylized cuirass of silver, its golden wings spread and a sword born in its talons, the left talon gripping the hilt and the right talon the blade set on a gold-embroided circle of blue and red, a golden crown set with alternating rubies and sapphires on top of the circle.  A unit motto is typically placed along the edge of the coat of arms' circle.  The Royal Cuirassiers' colors are red and blue, with a third color determined by the specific unit.


1st Royal Cuirassiers: The Undaunted


The progenitor unit of the Cuirassiers Corps, the 1st Royal Cuirassiers started service with minor engagements in the Second Andurien War before playing a critical role in defending Halfway from the New Commonwealth in 3040.  After further service against the New Commonwealth and Oriento-Capellan Empire, they served admirably in the defense of McAffe from Terran invasion in 3051 and the later liberation of Atreus in 3054.  Losses in these campaigns kept the unit out of the remaining Terran War; it would later win battle honors defending Atreus again from the Oriento-Capellan Empire in the 3065 invasion and fighting on Tikonov in the Concord-Compact War.

During the Fourth Succession War the 1st Cuirassiers were badly battered holding New Olympia in the Imperial counterattack of 3111, though they held the world until the general retreat in 3113 to counter the Empire's invasion of the Principality of Atreus.  Suffering fifty percent casualties in the defense of Campbelton they were rebuilt in time for the 3118 offensive, reducing them back to half strength in the failed attack on New Olympia and the second defense of Campbelton, in which they were required to absorb the broken 5th Cuirassiers to remain combat viable.

Following the war they were relocated back to the Arcadia Theater and McAffe, which remains their primary station with rotating tours elsewhere.  They are part of the AFRF's strategic reserve and are due for employment to the Skye Theater following High King Nathaniel's adjustments to the AFRF's defenses.

The unit insignia is the Royal Cuirassiers' seal encircled by the words "Fear Is Death".  A red numeral "1" sits atop the crown of the Cuirassier seal.  The unit's colors are red, blue, and gold.


Officers

Major General Proctor-Steiner is considered one of the better military officers of the service and is the youngest two-star general officer, being promoted at the age of forty-three.  The grandson of High King Ethan through Ethan's second child, Prince Thomas, Richard entered Ayrshire in 3116 and was put into emergency war service two years later during the late war offensives against the Oriento-Capellan Empire, which saw him permanently graduated and ending the war as a company commander at the age of twenty-one.  Steady progress through the ranks of the Household Guards ended with an offer in 3140 to assume command of the 1st Cuirassiers.  Given his former experience in the Proctor Heavy Guards he quickly attained a grasp of the Cuirassiers' fighting style and is respected by many in the unit.

Brigadier Ogawa is a recent merit transfer, having served with the New Kyoto Roshigumi for much of her career.

Tactics

The Cuirassiers' heavy formations are spread equally among the battalions, creating a cellular structure that allows for flexible combat employment of the companies regardless of which battalions are in the field.  Their maneuvers under Major General Proctor-Steiner have placed an emphasis on employing the armor for flanking and shaping operations, supported by heavy cavalry elements, with a preference for "cauldroning" enemy formations.  It is noted the training as placed an emphasis on countering known tactics by Imperial forces.


1st Royal Cuirassiers BattleMech Regiment (Veteran/Reliable/B)
CO: Major General Lord Richard Proctor-Steiner
XO/Regimental CO: Brigadier Reiko Ogawa
 1st Batt.: Lt. Colonel Yasmin al-Abbas
 2nd Batt.: Lt. Colonel Lord Jason Stewart
 3rd Batt.: Lt. Colonel Halim Mabogunje
 4th Batt.: Lt. Colonel Yulia Zdanovskaya
The 1st are rather well equipped for their rating, with a number of post-Peace of Dieron designs present in the TO&E, and few, if any, non-Terran weapons fielded by their mostly-OmniMech forces.

1st Royal Cuirassiers Armored Brigade (Regular/Reliable/B)
CO: Brigadier Rodrigo Espinosa
 9th Royal Armored Regiment (AR): Col. Calvin Johns
 2nd Royal Cavalry Regiment (CR): Col. Mark Ashton
 1st Royal Cuirassiers Aviation Regiment (AvR): Colonel Melissa Cooper
 1st Royal Cuirassiers Artillery Regiment (ArtB): Lt. Colonel Adrian de Wiart
The RCT's aviation regiment boasts a second battalion of VTOLs.  The entire brigade's vehicles tend towards the lighter side, making them superb flankers for the main 'Mech force.

1st Royal Cuirassiers Air Regiment (Veteran/Reliable/B)
CO: Air Commodore Javier San Souci
 1st Royal Cuirassiers Aerospace Group (2 wings): Grp. Colonel Donald Heinrici
 1st Royal Cuirassiers Support Group (2 wings): Grp. Colonel Hamid bin Rashid al-Tikriti

1st Royal Cuirassiers Infantry Brigade (Regular/Reliable/B)
CO: Brigadier Arnold Lethbridge
 4th Royal Grenadiers (H(A)IR): Col. John Hendricksen
 38th Royal Foot (M(A)IR): Col. Rajendra Mishra
 44th Royal Foot (M(A)IR): Col. Keyshawn Martins
 22nd Royal Air Cavalry (AiC(A)R): Col. Lani Samuels


2nd Royal Cuirassiers: Heavy Metal


Founded in 3044 from collected veterans of the War of Donegalian Succession, the 2nd Royal Cuirassiers were one of the first major units to consist of personnel from both halves of the union of Arcadia and Donegal.  Assigned to the Porrima Theater to keep watch on the restive border with Sudeten, the 2nd Cuirassiers participated in the defense of Porrima from Terran raiders and the relief of the defenders of Donegal.  After their role in securing the Triad in the claiming of Tharkad from ComStar, they were one of the first units assigned to supporting allied forces, joining a task force of Ghastillian and Communal troops in the liberation of Radstadt as part of the general operations to clear the Terran pocket around besieged Rasalhague.  After roles in the liberation of Skye and the taking of New Earth, the unit was rotated back to Porrima for rest and refit, having been reduced severely in strength.

After serving a minor role in defensive efforts around Buckminster in 3065 and 3066, they participated in the counterattack to push Galedon away from the Azami capital during the Concord-Compact War, and would later fight through the Vanguard War and join the liberation of the Principality of Bolan in the final months of the Dominate War.  During the Fourth Succession War they were slotted to the fighting against the Azami and spent the war in frequent engagement across that theater, increasingly against Galedonian forces, solidifying their reputation for holding successfully whenever pressed and never having to abandon a world they defended.  One of the more intact units left after the conflict ended, they have spent the Peace of Dieron being quietly rebuilt to regulation strength and continuing to serve in the Arcturus Theater, their current posting being to the border world of Kelenfold to assist in suppressing a terrorist campaign by radical guerrillas.

The unit's insignia and colors are the Cuirassiers' standard with green, with the numeral "2" in green above the Cuirassier seal insignia.  The unit's motto, "Victory Or Death", is inscribed on the seal border.


Officers
Major General Singh is a hardened veteran of the Fourth Succession War, serving in the Giausar Rangers and the Royal Giausar Rifles (2nd Free March Cavalry) until war's end.  While a light 'Mech pilot by profession, he moved on to heavier machines and command over them, with tours with the Bolan Heavy Guards, the 11th Skye Rangers, and the Arcadian Guards, with whom he served as regimental CO of the BattleMech Regiment and later divisional Executive Officer.  Assigned to command of the 2nd Royal Cuirassiers in 3141, he is seen as a dependable officer with an understanding of tactics and a centered moral compass from his devotion as a Sikh.

Forces
The 2nd Royal lives up to its name, being the heaviest of the Cuirassier RCTs in machine weight.  Whether on defense or offense the unit has a reputation for dogged fighting.


2nd Royal Cuirassiers BattleMech Regiment (Regular/Reliable/B)
CO: Major General Labh Khan Singh
XO/Regimental CO: Brigadier Maxine Shawcross
 1st Batt.: Lt. Colonel Toby Mainwaring
 2nd Batt.: Lt. Colonel Peter Gottfried
 3rd Batt.: Lt. Colonel Vera Dempsey
 4th Batt.: Lt. Colonel Claudia Mueller


2nd Royal Cuirassiers Armored Brigade (Regular/Reliable/B)
CO: Brigadier Sir Seamus O'Malley
 15th Royal Armored Regiment (HAR): Col. Lani Markle
 23rd Royal Armored Regiment (AR): Col. Heinrich Bohlen von Nordfalen
 2nd Royal Cuirassiers Aviation Regiment (AvB): Lt. Colonel Eugenia Reid
 2nd Royal Cuirassiers Artillery Regiment (ArtB): Lt. Colonel Kwame Mabogunje
The 15th Armored Regiment is rated a heavy regiment due to its greater number of companies outfitted with Rhino OmniVehicles.  In action on Kelenfold and elsewhere it's proven capable as a defensive frontline force to augment operations by the other formations.


2nd Royal Cuirassiers Air Regiment (Regular/Reliable/B)
CO: Air Commodore Yvonne Weiss
 2nd Royal Cuirassiers Aerospace Group (2 wings): Grp. Colonel Jamal Freeman
 2nd Royal Cuirassiers Support Group (2 wings): Grp. Colonel Keith Sharpe
The Support Group's wings include several Thunderstrike and Frogbat strike fighters for close air support.


2nd Royal Cuirassiers Infantry Brigade (Regular/Reliable/B)
CO: Brigadier Mark Ottman
 12th Royal Grenadiers (H(A)IR): Col. Xavier Lopez
 28th Royal Grenadiers (H(A)IR): Col. Sandeep Gupta
 56th Royal Foot (M(A)IR): Col. Kendra Thompson
 16th Royal Air Cavalry (AiC(A)R): Col. John Arano
A particularly heavy brigade by even Cuirassier standards, the two Grenadier regiments have been quite effective in rooting out the guerrillas on Kelenfold.



3rd Royal Cuirassiers: Terra's Bane

Officially in service starting in 3050, the 3rd Royal Cuirassiers were just finished with their acclimation training on Gienah's main continent when the ComStar blackout of the HPG network commenced and the Terran invasion came shortly thereafter.  Plunged into a fight to protect critical aerospace industries on the planet, they outmaneuvered and trapped the Terran strike forces, exploiting Terran presumptions of superiority to their own advantage.  Their success ensured them a place in the forces that relieved Arcadia the following year, assisted in the repulse of Terran attacks on other worlds, and saw the liberation of Atreus in 3054.  They fought through to the end of the war with one of the best records in the AFRF against Terran troops, earning the unit its defiant moniker, and it would be the only Royal Cuirassiers unit brought along for Operation SERPENT in 3060, serving in the North American campaign and capturing the ComStar complex on Hilton Head in a daring mixed amphibious and air assault.

Following the war they spent much of their career in the New Earth region as part of Arcadia's contribution to the defense of the Lyran gains from the Terran Union.  Repulsing strikes on Denebola in 3066 and New Earth itself in 3067, the 3rd participated in the Compact-Concord War as part of High King Thomas' OpForce Trident, the relief of Tikonov, battling the 2nd Sword of Light in the campaigns for Krasnodar.  In a cruel twist of fate, they would spent the 3080s fighting many of the TIkonovite units they'd worked alongside in that campaign as part of the border conflicts between the Lyran and Compact states.  During the Fourth Succession War they remained primarily a defensive unit responsible for New Earth, holding the planet from several raids by Azami troops and one deep strike by Galedonian troops in 3117 aiming to destroy ferro-fibrous forges vital to the Lyran war effort.

In 3139, as part of an internal force reshuffling, the 3rd Royal Cuirassiers were assigned to defend Marik.  Over the following three years they were given a surprising amount of largesse from the Procurement Department, including new OmniMechs and OmniVehicles with brand new technologies, with commentators surprised by the scope even given their posting on the border with the Oriento-Capellan Empire.  Recently, however, the unit's record was marred when a video surfaced on public infonet sites showing the commanding officer, Major General Karl Tucker, slandering High King Nathaniel for "pacifism" over new peace policies towards the Empire and attacking Parliament as "failing the defense of the Federation".  Once the recording was confirmed to be authentic, General von Luckner stripped Tucker of command and ordered him to report to Arcadia for re-assignment.  In his place, the Promotion Board approved the elevation of the RCT's XO to command, but while Major General Ovsyannikova has a good record, a number of personnel in the unit are unhappy with the way Tucker's removal was handled.  MI5 has downgraded the unit's reliability rating as a result.

The 3rd's colors are red, blue, and white.  The insignia depicts a silver "3" above the crown of the Cuirassiers Corps, the seal contains the words "Death Rides With Us".


Officers
Major General Ovsyannikova is still adjusting to her unexpected promotion and assumption of command.  An assault specialist who served in the Proctor Assault Guards through much of her early career, she's adjusting to her unit's penchant for maneuvering around obstacles instead of smashing through them, not to mention the lingering discontent among some of the officers over Major General Tucker's abrupt removal from command.

Brigadier Cunningham was a high graduation of the Defiance Armored Combat School and is a leading expert in anti-'Mech and maneuver tactics for ground vehicles.  His assignment to the 3rd is a boon to its enlarged armored brigade.


Tactics
The 3rd trains for combined arms inter-operation and maneuver, preferring to outflank enemy positions rather than overrun them.


3rd Royal Cuirassiers BattleMech Regiment (Regular/Reliable/A)
CO: Major General Dame Marina Ovsyannikova
Regimental CO: Colonel Adrian Rowling
 1st Batt.: Lt. Colonel Claudia Schaffer
 2nd Batt.: Lt. Colonel Nālani Makana
 3rd Batt.: Lt. Colonel René Sokol
 4th Batt.: Lt. Colonel Mirjam Hayha
Numerous new models of BattleMechs are now present in numbers throughout the regiment, particularly of the latest Ranger OmniMech for the heavy cavalry and recon lances.  Additionally, every weapon in the armory, OmniPod or not, is of Terran quality.


3rd Royal Cuirassiers Armored Brigade (Veteran/Reliable/A)
CO: Brigadier Michael Cunningham
 17th Royal Armored Regiment (AR): Col. Elijah Aviya
 2nd Royal Cavalry Regiment (CR): Col.  Nkiruka Okeke
 14th Royal Light Horse Regiment (LAR): Col. Matevos Nazarian
 3rd Royal Cuirassiers Aviation Regiment (ArtR): Col. Uwe Gangl
 3rd Royal Cuirassiers Artillery Regiment (ArtB): Lt. Colonel Rodislav Petrov
Brigadier Cunningham's leadership has honed the brigade to an elevated level of capability, making full use of the third armored regiment and the enlarged aviation regiment that gives the brigade greater power than its siblings in the other Cuirassier RCTs.


3rd Royal Cuirassiers Air Regiment (Regular/Reliable/A)
CO: Air Commodore Greta Hartinger
 3rd Royal Cuirassiers Aerospace Group (2 wings): Grp. Colonel Octavio Eigo
 3rd Royal Cuirassiers Support Group (2 wings): Grp. Colonel Indira Sharma


3rd Royal Cuirassiers Infantry Brigade (Regular/Questionable/A)
CO/RCT XO: Brigadier Kelly Martinez
 7th Royal Foot (MI(A)R): Col. Liselotte Fischer
 15th Royal Foot (MI(A)R): Col. Sepplo Lahtinen
 20th Royal Rangers (JI(A)R): Col. Yuri Shevchenko
 10th Royal Air Cavalry (AiC(A)R): Col. Marcus Fields
The infantry brigade has recently suffered a series of blows to its morale, not least of which was the removal of General Tucker, who was a former infantryman and has many grumbling that the removal had more to do with "MechWarrior bias" than Tucker's inflammatory remarks.

[Wrangler]

This brigade is really something.  I'd be delighted see what it's stats be used Abstract Combat System so the regiments as whole could pound through enemies.  ;D

[Steve]

This brigade is really something.  I'd be delighted see what it's stats be used Abstract Combat System so the regiments as whole could pound through enemies.  ;D

Sadly I don't know how to do such a thing... :-\

Also not sure it'd work entirely, one thing that's not quite come up yet is that this AU has a lot more battle armor and PA(L) suit use, as in pretty much every line formation of infantry will be primarily PA(L), even if it's relatively cheap 180-300kg suits with some specialist ones up to 400kg (the "Airmobile" suits for Rangers, aka Power Armor Jump Infantry with 1/3 movement). 

[Steve]

[H1]Armed Forces of the Royal Federation[/H1]

(Deployment as of 15 August 3142)

(Italics note assignment outside of Arcadian territory)

CO: High King Nathaniel Proctor-Steiner
Chief of Staff: Grand Admiral Lord Malcolm Stewart

Army
CO: Marshal of the Army Dame Bethany Townsend
Chief of Staff: General Lord Paul Steiner-Brewer

BattleMech Strength (Line): 91 Regiments, 3 Battalions (Total: 367 Battalions, approx. 14,680 BattleMechs)
BattleMech Strength (Mercenaries): 11 Regiments, 3 Battalions (Total 42 Battalions, approx. 1,680 BattleMechs)
BattleMech Strength (Federal Militia): 28 Regiments (Total 112 Battalions, approx. 4,480 BattleMechs)



Royal Guards
CO: General Sir Alexander Ferguson
BattleMech Strength: 3 Regiments

Unit Name	Experience	Loyalty	Assigned System
1st Royal Guards	Elite	Fanatical	Gienah
2nd Royal Guards	Veteran	Fanatical	Donegal
3rd Royal Guards	Veteran	Fanatical	Carnwath

Household Guards
CO: General Matthew Proctor-Steiner-Davion
BattleMech Strength: 6 Regiments, 1 Battalion

Unit Name	Experience	Loyalty	Assigned System
Lifeguards	Elite	Fanatical	Arcadia
Proctor Light Horse	Elite	Reliable	Carnwath
Proctor Assault Guards	Veteran	Fanatical	New Dallas
Proctor Heavy Guards	Elite	Fanatical	Stewart
1st Proctor Guards	Veteran	Reliable	Mariefred
2nd Proctor Guards	Veteran	Fanatical	Arcadia
3rd Proctor Guards	Regular	Reliable	Halmyre Deans

Striker Corps
CO: Lieutenant General Dame Desiree Arceneaux
BattleMech Strength: 4 Regiments

Unit Name	Experience	Loyalty	Assigned System
2nd Strikers	Veteran	Reliable	Gallatin
5th Strikers	Regular	Reliable	Tamarind
8th Strikers	Elite	Fanatical	Atocongo
10th Strikers	Regular	Reliable	Skye

Ranger Brigades
CO: Lieutenant General Sir Arthur York
BattleMech Strength: 6 Regiments

Unit Name	Experience	Loyalty	Assigned System
Arcadian Rangers	Veteran	Fanatical	Arcadia
Bolan Rangers	Regular	Reliable	Kamenz
Tamarind Rangers	Regular	Reliable	Irian
Alarion Rangers	Regular	Reliable	Alkalurops
Donegal Rangers	Regular	Fanatical	Porrima
Tharkad Rangers	Veteran	Reliable	Tharkad

Royal Cuirassiers
CO: Lieutenant General Sir Hans von Luckner
BattleMech Strength: 3 Regiments

Unit Name	Experience	Loyalty	Assigned System
1st Royal Cuirassiers	Veteran	Reliable	McAffe
2nd Royal Cuirassiers	Regular	Reliable	Kelenfold
3rd Royal Cuirassiers	Regular	Reliable	Marik

Royal BattleMech Regiments
CO: General Sir Abdullah Olajuwon
BattleMech Strength: 12 Regiments

Unit Name	Experience	Loyalty	Assigned System
1st Royal BattleMech Regiment	Veteran	Reliable	Concord
2nd Royal BattleMech Regiment	Regular	Reliable	Donegal
3rd Royal BattleMech Regiment	Regular	Reliable	Alarion
4th Royal BattleMech Regiment	Regular	Reliable	Arcadia
5th Royal BattleMech Regiment	Regular	Fanatical	Bainsville
6th Royal BattleMech Regiment	Green	Reliable	Freedom
7th Royal BattleMech Regiment	Regular	Questionable	Pobeda
8th Royal BattleMech Regiment	Regular	Reliable	Atreus
9th Royal BattleMech Regiment	Regular	Reliable	Tongatapu
10th Royal BattleMech Regiment	Green	Questionable	Solaris
11th Royal BattleMech Regiment	Regular	Fanatical	Shionoha
12th Royal BattleMech Regiment	Green	Reliable	Bolan

Royal Assault Regiments
CO: Lieutenant General Sir Alexander Proctor-Grimke
BattleMech Strength: 5 Regiments

Unit Name	Experience	Loyalty	Assigned System
1st Royal Assault Regiment	Regular	Reliable	Stewart
2nd Royal Assault Regiment	Regular	Fanatical	Porrima
4th Royal Assault Regiment	Regular	Reliable	Rochelle
8th Royal Assault Regiment	Veteran	Reliable	Hesperus
10th Royal Assault Regiment	Veteran	Fanatical	Denebola

Royal Lancer Corps
CO: Lieutenant General Sir Krystoff Adamczyk
BattleMech Strength: 5 Regiments

Unit Name	Experience	Loyalty	Assigned System
1st Royal Lancers	Veteran	Reliable	Donegal
2nd Royal (Irish) Lancers	Elite	Fanatical	Kalidasa
4th Royal Lancers	Green	Fanatical	Rexburg
5th Royal (Irish) Lancers	Regular	Fanatical	McAffe
7th Royal Lancers	Regular	Reliable	Donegal

Brigade of Dragoons
CO: Lieutenant General Dame Mozhdeh Darzi
BattleMech Strength: 2 Regiments, 2 Battalions

Unit Name	Experience	Loyalty	Assigned System
1st Dragoons	Veteran	Reliable	Hesperus
2nd Dragoons	Regular	Reliable	Muphrid
3rd Dragoons	Regular	Reliable	Marik
4th Dragoons	Green	Reliable	Alarion
5th Dragoons	Regular	Questionable	York
6th Dragoons	Regular	Reliable	Irian
7th Dragoons	Veteran	Reliable	Labouchere
8th Dragoons	Regular	Questionable	Alula Australis
9th Dragoons	Regular	Reliable	Arc-Royal
10th Dragoons	Regular	Reliable	Duantia

Free March Corps
CO: Lieutenant General Sir Scott Robertson
BattleMech Strength: 5 Regiments

Unit Name	Experience	Loyalty	Assigned System
Arcadian Guards	Elite	Fanatical	Arcadia
Hyde Lancers	Regular	Reliable	Irian
Gienah Heavy Fusiliers	Regular	Reliable	Gienah
1st Launum Armored Cavalry	Green	Reliable	Launum
1st Free March Cavalry Brigade	Regular	Reliable	Carnwath

Donegal Guards
CO: Lieutenant General Lady Mathilde Proctor-Steiner-Adelheide
BattleMech Strength: 6 Regiments

Unit Name	Experience	Loyalty	Assigned System
2nd Donegal Guards	Elite	Reliable	New Earth/Terra
4th Donegal Guards	Regular	Questionable	Arcturus
6th Donegal Guards	Regular	Reliable	Donegal
8th Donegal Guards	Veteran	Reliable	Alexandria
13th Donegal Guards	Regular	Reliable	Tharkad
14th Donegal Guards	Regular	Reliable	Alarion

Donegal Cavalry
CO: Lieutenant General Sir Egon "Rusty" Walder
BattleMech Strength: 4 Regiments

Unit Name	Experience	Loyalty	Assigned System
2nd Donegal Cavalry	Veteran	Fanatical	Pherkad
3rd Donegal Cavalry	Regular	Reliable	Cameron
4th Donegal Cavalry	Regular	Questionable	Odessa
6th Donegal Cavalry	Green	Reliable	Irian

Atrean Dragoons
CO: Lieutenant General Sir Gregory Newson
BattleMech Strength: 4 Regiments

Unit Name	Experience	Loyalty	Assigned System
1st Atrean Dragoons	Elite	Reliable	Atreus
3rd Atrean Dragoons	Regular	Reliable	Atreus
5th Atrean Dragoons	Regular	Questionable	Campbelton
7th Atrean Dragoons	Regular	Reliable	Tongatapu

Marik Regulars
CO: Lieutenant General Sir Patrick Kell-Atholl
BattleMech Strength: 3 Regiments

Unit Name	Experience	Loyalty	Assigned System
1st Marik Regulars	Regular	Questionable	Atreus
2nd Marik Regulars	Green	Reliable	Campbelton
4th Marik Regulars	Green	Questionable	Bainsville

Skye Rangers
CO: Lieutenant General Dame Donna Matteoli
BattleMech Strength: 5 Regiments

Unit Name	Experience	Loyalty	Assigned System
4th Skye Rangers	Veteran	Reliable	Glengarry
8th Skye Rangers	Regular	Reliable	New Earth
10th Skye Rangers	Elite	Questionable	Sabik
11th Skye Rangers	Regular	Questionable	Skye
17th Skye Rangers	Regular	Questionable	Summer

The Wraiths
CO: Major General Alex Campbell
BattleMech Strength: 3 Regiments

Unit Name	Experience	Loyalty	Assigned System
1st Wraiths	Veteran	Questionable	Freedom
2nd Wraiths	Veteran	Reliable	Thorin
3rd Wraiths	Veteran	Questionable	New Dallas

The Dar-es-Salaam Cavalry
CO: Lieutenant General Lord Ahmed bin Khalid al-Abbas Rayhan
BattleMech Strength: 3 Regiments

Unit Name	Experience	Loyalty	Assigned System
1st Dar-es-Salaam Cavalry	Regular	Reliable	Dar-es-Salaam
2nd Dar-es-Salaam Cavalry	Regular	Questionable	Skondia
4th Dar-es-Salaam Cavalry	Regular	Reliable	Gladius

The Bolan Corps
CO: Lieutenant General Prince Rama Umayr-Angelescu
BattleMech Strength: 5 Regiments

Unit Name	Experience	Loyalty	Assigned System
Bolan Heavy Guards	Veteran	Fanatical	Bolan
Bolan Hussars	Regular	Reliable	Ellijay
Bolan Cavalry	Green	Reliable	Finsterwalde
1st Bolan Regulars	Green	Questionable	Abramkovo
2nd Bolan Regulars	Green	Reliable	Czarvowo

The Tamarind Guards
CO: Lieutenant General Lord Gurmeet Shah
BattleMech Strength: 2 Regiments

Unit Name	Experience	Loyalty	Assigned System
2nd Tamarind Guards	Regular	Questionable	Tamarind
3rd Tamarind Guards	Green	Questionable	Labouchere

The Independent Regiments
BattleMech Strength: 5 Regiments

Unit Name	Experience	Loyalty	Assigned System
Concord Borderers	Regular	Reliable	Marik
Brewer Life Guards	Elite	Questionable/Fanatical	Hesperus
New Kyoto Roshigumi	Veteran	Fanatical	Nusakan
Defenders of Donegal	Regular	Questionable	Donegal
1st Arcturan Guards	Green	Reliable	Arcturus

House-Aligned Mercenaries
BattleMech Strength: 7 Regiments (* marks triangular regiment)

Unit Name	Experience	Loyalty	Assigned System
1st St. Cameron's	Elite	Fanatical	Arcadia
2nd St. Cameron's	Veteran	Fanatical	Morthac
1st Kell Hounds*	Elite	Fanatical	Atocongo
2nd Kell Hounds*	Regular	Reliable	Arc-Royal
Knights of St. Marinus	Regular	Reliable	Zaniah
Ransom's Raiders	Regular	Reliable	Marik
Brotherhood of Cinncinatus	Regular	Reliable	Tharkad

Other Mercenary Companies
BattleMech Strength: 4 Regiments, 3 Battalions (* marks triangular regiment)

Unit Name	Experience	Loyalty	Assigned System
1st Gravediggers*	Veteran	Reliable	Helm
2nd Gravediggers*	Regular	Reliable	Stewart
The Mother-Flakkers	Regular	Reliable	Atreus
Astoc's Army	Regular	Reliable	Qualip
Hamilton's Land-Air Brigade*	Veteran	Reliable	Gladius
Arano's Marauders	Elite	Reliable	Sabik

Principality and March Militias
CO: General Sir Jan Brzezinski
BattleMech Strength: 28 Regiments


Arcadia Theater
CO: Air-Marshal General Sir Kwame Nkansa
BattleMech Strength: 7 Regiments

Unit Name	Experience	Loyalty	Assigned System
1st Arcadia RMFM	Regular	Fanatical	Arcadia
2nd Arcadia RMFM	Green	Reliable	McAffe/Gienah
3rd Arcadia RMFM	Green	Reliable	Nestor/Launum/Hyde
Bolan PFM	Green	Fanatical	Bolan/Bobruisk
Concord FSFM	Green	Reliable	Concord/Gallatin
Dar-es-Salaam MFM	Green	Reliable	Dar-es-Salaam/Zvolen
Silver Eagle Republic FSFM	Green	Questionable	Rexburg/Sterling/Pingree

Arcturus Theater
CO: General Lady Helena Fhyne
BattleMech Strength: 3 Regiments

Unit Name	Experience	Loyalty	Assigned System
Arcturus MFM	Green	Questionable	Eaglesham/Phalan
Alexandria MFM	Regular	Reliable	Baxter/Corridan/Yed Posterior
Porrima MFM	Green	Reliable	Eschenberg/Garrison/Surcin

Atreus Theater
CO: General Sir Alistair Duncan
BattleMech Strength: 6 Regiments

Unit Name	Experience	Loyalty	Assigned System
1st Atreus PFM	Regular	Reliable	Atreus
2nd Atreus PFM	Green	Reliable	Ionus/Alterf
3rd Atreus PFM	Green	Reliable	Kirkenlaard
1st New Dallas MFM	Green	Reliable	New Dallas/Connaught
2nd New Dallas MFM	Green	Questionable	Irian
Stewart MFM	Green	Fanatical	Grobin/Marik

Donegal Theater
CO: Admiral Dame Alexandra Schmitt-Raith
BattleMech Strength: 6 Regiments

Unit Name	Experience	Loyalty	Assigned System
1st Donegal RMFM	Green	Reliable	Halfway
2nd Donegal RMFM	Green	Reliable	Donegal
3rd Donegal RMFM	Green	Reliable	Cameron
Tharkad RMFM	Green	Reliable	Tharkad
Arc-Royal MFM	Green	Reliable	Arc-Royal
Alarion MFM	Green	Reliable	Alarion

Skye Theater
CO: General Sir Michael Trevors
BattleMech Strength: 6 Regiments

Unit Name	Experience	Loyalty	Assigned System
1st Skye RMFM	Regular	Questionable	Skye
2nd Skye RMFM	Regular	Questionable	Lyons/Ko
3rd Skye RMFM	Green	Questionable	Summer
Hesperus PFM	Green	Reliable	Hesperus
1st New Earth MFM	Regular	Reliable	New Earth
2nd New Earth MFM	Regular	Reliable	Denebola

[Steve]

Royal Navy

CO: Grand Admiral Lord John Pastig
Chief of Staff: Admiral Lord Marcus Proctor-Grimke

WarShip Strength: 4 Battleships, 6 Armored Cruisers, 4 Armored Gun Cruisers, 12 Light Cruisers, 6 Attack Frigates, 5 Missile Frigates, 9 Frigates, 10 Missile Destroyers, 14 Destroyers, 12 Missile Corvettes, 28 Corvettes

1st Battle Fleet
CO: Vice Admiral Lord Paul Marik
Flagship: AFS Arcadia
Location: Atocongo, Kingdom of Ghastillia

AFS Arcadia	Arcadia-class	Battleship
AFS Sara Proctor	Sara Proctor-class	Armored Cruiser
AFS Mordecai Shaltiel	William Corey-class	Armored Gun Cruiser
AFS Emancipator	Guardian-class	Frigate
AFS Liberator	Stalwart-class	Attack Frigate
AFS Diane Carey	Diane Carey-class	Missile Frigate
AFS Rama	Siegfried-class	Missile Destroyer
AFS Arjuna	Siegfried-class	Missile Destroyer

DropShips
4 Fleet Carriers
4 Missile Picket Ships
4 Fleet Picket Ships
6 Point Defense Picket Ships
4 Marine Combat Transports
8 Anti-Fighter Support Ships
8 Gunships
2 Large UNREP Military Transports
4 UNREP Military Transports


2nd Battle Fleet
CO: Vice Admiral Dame Olena Zelenska
Flagship: AFS Atreus
Location: Skye, Skye Royal March

AFS Atreus	Arcadia-class	Battleship
AFS Andrew Laughlin	Sita Umayr-class	Armored Cruiser
AFS William Corey	William Corey-class	Armored Gun Cruiser
AFS Guardian	Guardian-class	Frigate
AFS Charger	Charger-class	Attack Frigate
AFS Ioannis Papadoulos	Diane Carey-class	Missile Frigate
AFS El Cid	Siegfried-class	Missile Destroyer
AFS Gilgamesh	Siegfried-class	Missile Destroyer

DropShips
4 Fleet Carriers
4 Missile Picket Ships
4 Fleet Picket Ships
6 Point Defense Picket Ships
4 Marine Combat Transports
8 Anti-Fighter Support Ships
8 Gunships
2 Large UNREP Military Transports
4 UNREP Military Transports


3rd Battle Fleet
CO: Vice Admiral Dame Jana Proudmoore
Flagship: AFS Skye
Location: Campbelton, Principality of Atreus

AFS Skye	Alarion-class	Battleship
AFS Auli'i Keahi	Sara Proctor-class	Armored Cruiser
AFS Simon Allen	Ethan Steiner-class	Armored Gun Cruiser
AFS Gladiator	Guardian-class	Frigate
AFS Lancer	Charger-class	Attack Frigate
AFS Julia Andros	Mark Walters-class	Missile Frigate
AFS Percival	Lancelot-class	Missile Destroyer
AFS Galahad	Lancelot-class	Missile Destroyer

DropShips
4 Fleet Carriers
4 Missile Picket Ships
4 Fleet Picket Ships
6 Point Defense Picket Ships
4 Marine Combat Transports
8 Anti-Fighter Support Ships
8 Gunships
2 Large UNREP Military Transports
4 UNREP Military Transports

4th Battle Fleet
CO: Vice Admiral Sir John Bingham
Flagship: AFS Donegal
Location: Tharkad, Donegal Royal March

AFS Donegal	Tamarind-class	Battleship
AFS Eli Shaltiel	Sita Umayr-class	Armored Cruiser
AFS Duncan Marik	Ethan Steiner-class	Armored Gun Cruiser
AFS Herald	Herald-class	Frigate
AFS Seneschal	Stalwart-class	Attack Frigate
AFS Walther Stoeppel	Mark Walters-class	Missile Frigate
AFS Tristan	Lancelot-class	Missile Destroyer
AFS Scáthach	Fráech-class	Missile Destroyer

DropShips
4 Fleet Carriers
4 Missile Picket Ships
4 Fleet Picket Ships
6 Point Defense Picket Ships
4 Marine Combat Transports
8 Anti-Fighter Support Ships
8 Gunships
2 Large UNREP Military Transports
4 UNREP Military Transports


1st Independent Squadron
CO: Rear Admiral Nikolai Rostov
Flagship: AFS Sita Umayr
Location: Stewart, Stewart Federal March

AFS Sita Umayr	Sita Umayr-class	Armored Cruiser
AFS Hero	Herald-class	Frigate
AFS Champion	Herald-class	Frigate
AFS Nimrod	Orion-class	Destroyer
AFS Penthesilea	Orion-class	Destroyer

DropShips
2 Fleet Carriers
2 Missile Picket Ships
2 Fleet Picket Ship
2 Point Defense Picket Ships
4 Anti-Fighter Support Ships
2 Point Defense Support Ships
4 Gunships
2 UNREP Military Transports


2nd Independent Squadron
CO: Rear Admiral Nigel Woolsey
Flagship: AFS Raquel Steiner
Location: Kamenz, Principality of Bolan

AFS Raquel Steiner	Sita Umayr-class	Armored Cruiser
AFS Gurkha	Herald-class	Frigate
AFS Grenadier	Herald-class	Frigate
AFS Agamemnon	Orion-class	Destroyer
AFS Sinbad	Orion-class	Destroyer

DropShips
2 Fleet Carriers
2 Missile Picket Ships
2 Fleet Picket Ship
2 Point Defense Picket Ships
4 Anti-Fighter Support Ships
2 Point Defense Support Ships
4 Gunships
2 UNREP Military Transports


1st Light Squadron
CO: Rear Admiral Amita Chandra
Flagship: AFS Arnoldo Samari
Location: New Dallas, New Dallas Federal March

AFS Arnoldo Samari	Diane Carey-class	Missile Frigate
AFS Brann	Fráech-class	Missile Destroyer
AFS Sceólang	Fráech-class	Missile Destroyer
AFS Anansi	Anansi-class	Destroyer
AFS Shango	Anansi-class	Destroyer
AFS Sovnya	Trident-class	Missile Corvette
AFS Sarissa	Trident-class	Missile Corvette

DropShips
2 Carriers
1 Missile Picket Ship
2 Point Defense Support Ships
4 Anti-Fighter Support Ships
2 Gunships
2 Marine Combat Transports
1 UNREP Military Transport


2nd Light Squadron
CO: Rear Admiral Hiro Yamaguchi
Flagship: AFS Pericles
Location: Odessa, Porrima Federal March

ASF Pericles	Themistocles-class	Light Cruiser
AFS Oduduwa	Anansi-class	Destroyer
AFS Ogoun	Anansi-class	Destroyer
AFS Trident	Trident-class	Missile Corvette
AFS Halberd	Trident-class	Missile Corvette
AFS Bardiche	Trident-class	Missile Corvette
AFS Pilum	Trident-class	Missile Corvette

DropShips
2 Carriers
1 Missile Picket Ship
4 Point Defense Support Ships
3 Anti-Fighter Support Ships
2 Gunships
1 Marine Combat Transport
2 UNREP Military Transports

3rd Light Squadron
CO: Rear Admiral Lord Terrence Brewer-Steiner
Flagship: AFS Cicero
Location: Hesperus, Principality of Hesperus

ASF Cicero	Themistocles-class	Light Cruiser
ASF Tyr	Anansi-class	Destroyer
ASF Fionn	Fráech-class	Destroyer
ASF Assegai	Trident-class	Missile Corvette
ASF Rapier	Trident-class	Missile Corvette
AFS Javelin	Trident-class	Missile Corvette
AFS Glaive	Trident-class	Missile Corvette

DropShips
2 Carriers
1 Missile Picket Ships
4 Point Defense Support Ships
3 Anti-Fighter Support Ships
2 Gunships
1 Marine Combat Transport
2 UNREP Military Transports

4th Light Squadron
CO: Rear Admiral Franklin Proctor-Steiner-Davion
Flagship: AFS Ashoka
Location: Atreus, Principality of Atreus

ASF Ashoka	Ashoka-class	Light Cruiser
ASF Diarmuid	Fráech-class	Destroyer
ASF Tam Lin	Fráech-class	Destroyer
ASF Voulge	Trident-class	Missile Corvette
ASF Trishula	Trident-class	Missile Corvette

DropShips
2 Carriers
1 Missile Picket Ship
3 Point Defense Support Ships
3 Anti-Fighter Support Ships
1 Marine Combat Transport
2 UNREP Military Transports


Independently Operating Vessels


Light Cruisers

ASF Themistocles	Themistocles-class	New Earth, New Earth Federal March
ASF Lysander	Themistocles-class	Kamenz, Principality of Bolan
ASF Hermocrates	Themistocles-class	Shionoha, Arcturus Federal March
ASF Epaminondas	Themistocles-class	Arc-Royal, Arc-Royal Federal March
ASF Parmenio	Themistocles-class	Irian, New Dallas Federal March
ASF Darius	Themistocles-class	Halfway, Donegal Royal March
ASF Samprati	Ashoka-class	Arcadia, Arcadia Royal March
ASF Chanakya	Ashoka-class	Sabik, Skye Royal March
ASF Chandragupta	Ashoka-class	Tamarind, Principality of Atreus

DropShip Flotilla (per ship)
1 Carrier
1 Picket Missile Ship
2 Point Defense Support Ships
1 Marine Combat Transport
1 UNREP Military Transport


Frigate

AFS Kshatriya

Herald-class

Halfway, Royal Donegal March

DropShip Flotilla (per ship)
1 Point Defense Support Ship
1 Anti-Fighter Support Ship
2 Gunships

Destroyers

AFS Hildebrand	Fráech-class	Tamarind, Principality of Atreus
AFS Cuchulainn	Fráech-class	Arc-Royal, Arc-Royal Federal March
AFS Rüdiger	Fráech-class	Zvolen, Dar-es-Salaam Federal March
AFS Ajax	Fráech-class	Tharkad, Donegal Royal March

DropShip Flotilla (per ship)
1 Point Defense Support Ship
1 Anti-Fighter Support Ship

Corvettes

Jaguar-class Corvettes x 12
AFS Jaguar
AFS Panther
AFS Leopard
AFS Lynx
AFS Tiger
AFS Lion
AFS Puma
AFS Ocelot
AFS Cougar
AFS Bobcat
AFS Cheetah
AFS Wildcat

Ki-rian-class Corvettes x 12
AFS Ki-rian
AFS Toadfox
AFS Nightwolf
AFS Coyote
AFS Wolfhound
AFS Dhole
AFS Dragonwolf
AFS Dobermann
AFS Snowlynx
AFS Armor Bear
AFS Jackal
AFS Mongoose

Great Eagle-class Corvettes x 4
AFS Great Eagle
AFS Sky Darter
AFS Harrier
AFS Hawk

[Steve]

Written entirely by my co-writer Templar87 (as in the guy who covers Dark Age stuff since I haven't read as much of that material):



35 - Visions, Radiant and Bright


Kilkenny
Alkalurops
Falcon’s Reach (Former Republic Of The Sphere)
17 January, 3143

The Jade Falcon military government of Alkalurops had chosen to make their home in the township of Kilkenny. They’d probably thought it was a good idea, Callandre Kell reflected, looking out through the - permanently opened by an SRM blast as the Fourth Avalon Armoured Infantry stormed the Falcon HQ - windows of what had been, before the Falcons converted it to a command centre, a typing pool or something like, at the open, rocky ground around the town, the ore sheds holding the product of the mines in the Vandika continent’s mountain ranges, and the Guards arrayed in a not-quite-standoff with the locals. And, maybe they might have been right, up against a bunch of rock- or petrol bomb-throwing rioters, or converted WorkMechs.

Against the massed strength of the First Davion Guards - plus the disturbingly well-equipped resistance that’d sprung out of hiding as the Guards burned in - all it’d done was get them killed.

Callandre shook her head. She had a - well-earned, honestly - reputation for stunts that were usually called insane, and often verged on suicidal, but regardless of all the crazy “Mongol doctrine” shit the Falcons were pumping out, even the densest Bottle-Baby could do maths. Enough, at least, to know that throwing a pair of understrength battalions against the better part of five regiments just counting the ones on the ground already, wasn’t going to do shit. Even the most combat-happy Wolves she’d associated with would’ve known better; and one of them had tried to headbutt his way through her Destroyer's windshield on a bet for God's sake!

And the Falcons hadn’t done damn-all, or most of them hadn’t at least; Jules’ plan had that down perfectly. Their ‘Mechs and armour had just been shredded by long-range energy and Gauss fire, the infantry peeled out of their strongpoints like lobsters by tank and battlesuit teams trained to a fever pitch at urban warfare. Hell, all she’d had to use her Destroyer’s autocannon for was finally blasting the Watch snowdrops - “redcaps” according to the Guards - out of their HQ.

Then again, she thought, considering what the locals’ve been doing to any Clanners they get hold of - and what the Falcons did to them first - maybe they had the right idea fighting against us. The handful of surviving Falcon infantry - sibbies, mainly; and a couple of ancient and greying Point Commanders who'd kept the sibbies from being too stupid to live - plus the few Watch operatives who'd lived to make it close enough to surrender to the Guards were out by the DropShips; protected by Markesan Pride's guns, a company of the biggest, meanest infanteers Jules could find - in massive sets of Grenadier and Fenrir armour - and the ferocious anti-infantry arsenal of a Scarecrow from the pissed off locals out to hang them from the nearest tree. As for what the Falcons had done to the locals, well - everyone in the Guards had seen the shattered, broken remains of towns and villages the stupid bastards had sacked.

And speaking of the locals, she thought, as the improv-conference room’s door opened, admitting the local rep. She wasn’t what Callandre had expected; far from the dashing image of a resistance leader, Grace O’Malley looked like - well, what she probably was, day-to-day, a wiry miner worn down by years of hard work, her contemplative features tanned dark by Alkalurops’ bright, pale sunlight, grey streaking her dull-red hair. The limp, and the supporting brace around one thigh were probably the Falcons’ work. She didn’t need telling who was in charge, stepping toward Jules with a hand extended; not that Jules’ love of no more state than he had to put up with - in this case, her, Sandra (as ever established in a comfy chair with noteputers to hand) and the infantry squad on guard - made that difficult.

“Grace O’Malley, Mayor of Falkirk.” Her greeting and the handshake with it were perfunctory as well, but at least not outright rude, and Jules didn’t seem bothered. If anything, he seemed more relaxed than Callandre knew he’d been since Terra, now they were finally acting.

“Julian Davion, general officer commanding the First Davion Guard,” Jules returned the greeting with court-trained grace, and making introductions in turn. "My armour brigade exec, Major Callandre Kell; and Countess Sandra Fenlon, of Chesterton." That got Sandy a polite nod of acknowledgement, and Callandre a long, considering look. The kind of look she knew well, hated, that she bit back her normal caustic response to; maybe Jules is finally rubbing off on me. The look that conveyed, without a word, I know your name, and You're not what I expected.

"You're an awfully long way from home, General," O'Malley responded after taking a seat, indicating the sword-and-sunburst banner hung on one wall. "You lost?"

"No," Jules managed a soft chuckle in response to that. "We're heading to Lyran space, as a matter of fact."

"I see." O'Malley didn't look convinced, but then, the firepower the Guards had deployed would worry anyone. She frowned, seeming to turn over facts in her mind for a moment. Then; “Not that I want to sound inhospitable, but if you’re heading there, then why are you here?”

"Intel raid," Callandre cut in. No need to let her work Jules solo. “Needed to find out what was going on, and here seemed as good a place as any.” Tossed that off casually, as though Alkalurops hadn’t been picked for very specific reasons; the distance along their route to the rendezvous at Gallery, giving time to analyse everything learned, and the fact that its pirate points were probably the safest in known space.

“And you’re planning on staying here for how long? We haven’t exactly got a whole lot to spare for another dozen thousand guests."

“No more than a week.” Julian, calm and level. “Just long enough to recharge our jump drives.”

“Fair enough,” O’Malley commented after a moment’s consideration. “It’s not like I could stop you, so I might as well be a good host.”

“Good,” Julian smiled, accepting a noteputer from Sandra. Their fingers brushed lightly, drawing deeper smiles from both; and one from Callandre, as well, she knew happiness when she saw it. “I’ve got a rough SOFA worked out here …”

Callandre took the opportunity to step out; the rest of this was going to be administrative stuff, that she didn’t like and wasn’t any good at.


Her aimless footsteps took Callandre outside, in amongst the Guards’ armour park - everything from lightweight Kruger armoured cars to the bulk of two of their superheavy Destriers. Things seemed to be calming down, the Guards and resistance fighters already making the first steps of friendship; talking in small groups within the no-man’s-land between both forces.

Nobody seemed to be paying much attention as she moved through the ranks of AFVs, and that was one reason Callandre had decided she liked being with the Guards. They didn’t care about her name, or who her father or uncle were, or what she’d done at the Nagelring - all that mattered to the Federated Suns tankers was that she could do the job she claimed, and do it right. Which, admittedly, was just as much pressure in its own way, but a whole lot easier to handle.

Making her way to her Destroyer - unambiguously hers, since she'd made sure to tag it with, alongside the sword-and-sunburst and the First Guards' Corinthian helmet, the emblems of the Kell Hounds, the Nagelring Cadet Corps and the Lyran Commonwealth - Callandre hefted one of the toolboxes secured to the rear deck kit racks and clambered up atop the cockpit, intent on fixing the persistent hitch in MG mount's traversing gear.

She'd gotten the maintenance covers free and was starting to realign the traversal motor’s parts - one of them looked like it’d worked loose, or been knocked loose by that SRM hit in the street fighting earlier - when an unfamiliar voice broke her focus, a strange, almost musically accented voice announcing, “Calamity Kell, I presume?”

That had her rounding on the speaker to deliver a stinging rebuke - the Guards knew she hated that nickname coming from anyone who hadn't earned the right to use it - that died in her throat when she got a look at them.

The man dressed like one of the locals, in the same hard-wearing, practical denim and leathers, but he wasn’t; hadn't been born on Alkalurops at least. Callandre had spent enough time around Trueborn warriors to recognise one - even in civvies - when she saw them, even if she'd never encountered one who, from the bleached-white hair and skin, and pink eyes, was a genuine albino; and that made the accent click, because she'd heard it before. From one of the Coordinator's party, on Terra.

"You're an awfully long way from Irece, Nova Cat," Callandre responded, finally. "And how'd you get that name?"

"Correct on the first, wrong on the second; I believe Danny now owes me a pint," the Clanner smiled. "As to your name, I learned of it through the fires, as with much else. I," he made a stiff, Kuritan court-style bow, the precise degree of one to an equal,  "am Benjork Lone Cat, once of Clan Nova Cat, and now of Alkalurops."

Callandre frowned at that; not the idea - there were Nova Cat enclaves, or had been, in the Republic, and Stone’s policies had always encouraged movement and intermixing - but at the comment that said that she was dealing with a seer. Or just who thinks they are; she’d never been sure just how much of the Nova Cats’ mysticism was nonsense, how much was misdirection, and how much they actually believed. And how much might be real.

“You know my name. But I don’t know why you’re talking to me. Shouldn’t you be sharing your ‘mystical wisdom’ with Marshal Davion?”

Laughter wasn’t the response to her words that Callandre had expected, but it was the one the Lone Cat gave her; the familiar short, barking cadence of Clanner amusement.

“He does not need it,” Benjork said, a smile on his face; as though at some private joke. “Julian Davion knows who he is, and who he must become. The only question for him is the route to it, and that is a path that every soul must walk alone. You, though; you, Callandre Kell, do not know yourself, which I find curious, as,” he nodded to the Destroyer’s clustered insignia, “there are clearly many of you to know.”

“Just speak your piece. I don’t like riddles and I do have work to do,” Callandre snapped, unsettled by the ex-Nova Cat’s unblinking case, and by his ability to home in on things that she’d been trying to avoid thinking about since Ronel.

And, at that, the news of her uncle’s narrow escape had just focused doubts Callandre had been feeling for a long time about her own life choices. Very few of which, looking back on them, she was particularly proud of; most notably, the disastrous drunken bender she’d embarked on after finally graduating the Nagelring - somehow scraping a sword of honour despite shattering every record for misbehaviour and demerits - in large part due to missing Jules, and it finally sinking in what she might have have done to him by dragging him into her rebellion against the weight of expectations. She couldn’t even remember very clearly marrying Langenhass, just a vague impression of making it exceptionally clear to a registrar on Solaris that he’d do it or something violent was going to happen; the extremely public divorce two weeks later, when she’d sobered up enough to think clearly, Callandre did remember, and regretted. Not doing it, but a lot of the things she’d said, implied and threatened to Keith, who for an idiot was a decent enough guy and hadn’t deserved the full force of her temper.

“Simply thus; no human being is an island. We are all linked, and do not exist for ourselves alone. And though I have little experience with family as such,” a different smile now, something softer and more self-deprecatory, “well, surely it is best to make peace with them, rather than maintaining an antagonism that profits none but your enemies?"

******, how the hell is he getting inside my head like this? Callandre had been subject to cold-reading before, and she was positive that was what Benjork was doing to her; but something about his eerie, piercing gaze and knowing expression was making her think about the tales she'd loved as a child - with a child's ghoulish fascination with terror - about Subhash Indrahar, the ISF Director back during the original Clan invasion, and his supposed ability to read a person's thoughts, their innermost soul, just by looking them in the eye.

Part of her wanted to scream several highly creative obscenities at the Cat, or maybe hit him with the wrench in her hand; to deny even the possibility of any kind of reconciliation. Another part, that she’d found herself listening to more and more lately, responded to that with, Quit being a child. So you said some nasty things to your father; you’re not the only one here with family issues. Sandra’s parents were both murdered when she was a toddler, Julian never knew his mother and barely knew his dad; hell, he’s getting ready to fight a war with his cousin if he’s got to. At least you get the chance to make things right with your father.

“You’ve made your point,” she settled on, finally, not liking the edge of petulance in her voice. “I’ll settle up with my dad, when I get the chance. Now, do you have any other  insights to push on me, or are you going to leave and let me work?”

“Bargained well, and done,” Benjork replied, smiling that odd smile Callandre was really starting to take a dislike to as she turned back to the turret mechanism. “I wish you well; and it is to the good that Julian Davion has one such as you to guard his back. He will need it.”

“Now what in the hell do you mean by -” Callandre started, turning and rising the wrench - she was about ready to start beating some straightforwardness into this clown - only to find herself staring at nothing but the rear deck of the Ajax assault tank parked in front of her Destroyer.

“****** vanishing act. Bloody Nova Cats,” she muttered. It wasn’t like Jules lacked for people to watch his back; even back home. Caleb was a paranoid nut, but there were plenty of people willing to argue Jules’ case with him; most surprisingly Erik Sandoval-Groell, who was a first-class arse most of the time and, pretty unsurprisingly, Caleb’s most trusted military adviser.

And I hope, Callandre added silently - and more than a little vindictively - as she went back to work, Erik’s finding out how little fun the job he stole from Jules actually is.





The Watchtower
Ten kilometres north of Avalon City, New Avalon
Crucis March, Federated Suns
21 January, 3143

The Prince's Champion of the Federated Suns had come to hate the Watchtower.

I shouldn't, Erik Sandoval-Groell thought as he made his way down the familiar corridors to the Operations Room at the Watchtower's heart, the spurs and heelplates of his boots tapping faintly against the floor. After all, this place represents everything I wanted - that I thought I wanted - power, prestige, authority. Respect. The ability to say that I'm my own man, not just cousin Aaron's creature. And yet, each time he was here, he found himself longing for a return to the frontlines and the cockpit of his Hatchetman. Maybe it was the pervasive air of unreality, as though the dire situation facing the Suns could be avoided just by massaging the right bits of data. Or maybe it was the swarms of staff officers in pristine, elaborate - or at least as elaborate as AFFS service dress got - uniforms, all too many of whom had never heard a shot fired since their basic training; something that Erik could have tolerated if most of them had gotten their posts for their abilities at administration, rather than the actual case of connections alone. Maybe that's why they go in for the gold braid; trying to convince themselves that they're real soldiers.

He was in plain mechwarrior field service dress, as unadorned as regs allowed; just the national and Avalon Hussars insignia, epaulet with his rank tabs, and the laurel-wreathed sword-and-sunburst collar badge that only the Prince's Champion could wear. A short row of combat action ribbons rested above the right breast pocket of his jacket, and one of his staff had provided a light dusting of cosmetics that brought out the scar seaming his left cheek; it never hurt to remind the palace warriors that he was a fighting man, not just a soldier.

Remember,  Erik, image is a weapon like any other. Present yourself solely as a warrior, and very few will ever think to look beyond that. One of his cousin's lessons, and one of the ones that Aaron Sandoval had tried his hardest to get across.

Yeah, yeah, you were right, old man, Erik shot back at that memory, while the final checkpoint guards double-checked his ID. You're still an arrogant prick.

“Thank bloody God you’re here, sir,” one of the guards commented, handing his ID documents back in a bionic hand; another bit of Aaron’s teachings there, if one Erik had known already, that loyalty flowed down as well as up - he’d gotten Sergeant Angie Cole a posting to the Watchtower’s security regiment after she’d lost the original hand saving him from a Liao anti-’Mech squad on Tigress. Besides, you never knew when friends in low places might come in handy. “They’ve been at it for hours.”

“Shouting?” Erik asked quietly, a little surprised. He’d have expected the High Command to be more decorous than a pirate band, at least.

“No, worse,” Sergeant Cole looked really worried. “It’s all hard-edged politeness in there. Like one of those Kuritan weddings where the families hate each other.”

Erik winced at that. He knew exactly what she meant; like Vincent Kurita’s entourage on Terra, where the forced politeness had been so pregnant with throttled back rage it would have been a measurable relaxation of tensions if Toranaga and Kurita had simply drawn their katanas and gone at each other across the dance floor at the Exarch's ball.

“Thanks for the heads-up, Angie,” he replied. “How’s the family doing?”

"Good, thanks," Cole smiled. "Danny and the kids are settling in fine on Panpour; he's got a job lined up at the yards there, and Eve's applying to Firgrove academy next year. She's got her heart set on pilot school."

“Well, if she needs a letter of recommendation, you only have to ask,” Erik smiled as he stepped past the guardpost. “Now, I’d better get back to work.”

Contrary to its portrayal in innumerable works of popular fiction, and despite being deep enough underground that nothing short of a high-yield deep earth-penetrator fitted nuke could knock it out, the Operations Room was cool and brightly lit. Dominating the multi-tiered half-circle of workstations was the vast wall map, set to display the entirety of the Five Hundred Worlds of the Federated Suns and much of their immediate neighbours, and speckled with unit markers; gold for the AFFS - one, that of the First Avalon Hussars, shifting to a new deployment location, on Emporia - green for Capellan, red for Dracs and pale blue for the Raven Alliance. Liao and Kurita advances were shown as well, with a sickly green stain devouring too much of what had once been the Republic as it curled down towards Demeter, Chesterton and Tikonov, and beyond them Orbisonia and Kathil, worlds Daoshen Liao coveted with a rapacity that eclipsed even his father's; and the Draconis Reach, its gold almost entirely subsumed by a deep, arterial crimson. Even as Erik made his way down to the lowest tier- that of the High Command itself - three of the golden stars bordering the Reach, Glenmora, Hoff and Crossing, started blinking between crimson and gold as the dispatches he'd carried from Kestrel were encoded and fed into the system.

Erik's fingers clenched around the hilt of his - peacebound, and purely ceremonial - sword until he was sure the knuckles were white beneath his gloves. For a moment, the clack of fingers over keyboards tripped something in his head, and he was back on Hoff, the ozone and strong coffee smells of the Operations Room replaced by blood and hot metal, the keystrokes amplified to the howling roar of his Hatchetman’s eighty-millimetre autocannon at maximum cyclic rate as it flayed armour from a Kuritan Goliath crushing the life out of a crippled Bulldog of the Hoff planetary guard. Then the flicker of memory passed.

Someone, he knew, was inevitably going to argue that he shouldn’t have taken the First Avalon to Hoff in support of Duchess Stephenson’s evac mission - certainly that he shouldn’t have gone along in person - but to hell with them. If the AFFS couldn’t, or wouldn’t, defend the people of the Federated Suns, then what damn good were they? And what good was a champion who shrank from battle when it was needed.

The Field Marshal of the Crucis Lancers Brigade was talking when Erik reached the High Command tier, exchanging friendly nods with Admiral Min Seung-hyun; one of his few allies among the High Command, both because she agreed with him on most things, and he’d helped her get the job of Chief of Naval Ops. The current topic seemed to be -

“- simply don’t see why we need to pull the Second Crucis off Marlette to deal with a handful of raids,” Malcolm Davion-Ross was saying, aiming a contemptuous look at Corwin Sandoval’s representative, a Colonel in Robinson Strikers uniform. “After all, what do we fund the Robinson Brigade for?”

“If it was just raids, then I wouldn’t be here,” the Colonel - the nametag on his battledress, the mirror of Erik’s own in its understated martial austerity, read Robicheaux - snapped back, tanned features turning an interesting shade of puce. “We maintain two regiments and five Light Combat Teams of regular troops out of our own resources, along with the March and planetary militias, and the New Ivaarsen Chasseurs. That is enough to deal with opportunistic raiding or attempts to seize worlds by the Benjamin and New Samarkand Warlords out of their own resources; it isn’t enough to handle a full-scale offensive spearheaded by the Coordinator’s household troops - including Wolf’s Dragoons and three of the Swords of Light - you bloody popinjay!”

Davion-Ross flushed in turn, and Erik started to move, trying to place himself between the two before they came to blows.

“Enough!” The voice that froze all three men where they stood wasn’t particularly loud, but there was a quiet intensity to it that did the job just as well as volume. “You are all conspiring to drive me mad,” First Prince Caleb Hasek-Sandoval-Davion - a trim figure in a Field Marshal’s uniform, favouring his mother’s slender build and dark colouring more than his father’s bulky, pale muscularity - snapped as he turned to face the group, backlit by the holotank before them. “We have been hearing these same arguments for weeks! Now, at least, with Our Champion’s return we may finally hear from someone with something useful to say.” He gave Erik a curt nod and gestured for him to speak.

“Highness,” Erik bowed, taking a moment to study the High Command. Most of them seemed cut from the same pattern; impeccably bred, finely uniformed, and all too many of them appointed by Harrison Davion, not very capable even then, grown old in their posts and still without truly comprehending how much the Blackout had changed things. And impossible to replace, because those who might replace them effectively were needed where they were. Aides clung around them, or moved back and forth through the room, carrying messages; then there were the ceremonial guards, and a group of suited civilians …

No, Erik decided after studying them; the dispersion, the bulges - carefully concealed by some excellent tailoring - under arms and at their hips, their eyes flickering ceaselessly over the room, watching, appraising. Waiting. The real guards. And by the look of them, some of the only people here who're doing their jobs properly.

“Colonel Robicheaux may have been somewhat indelicate in his phrasing, Highness,” Erik began, “but he is essentially correct. This is not the lowkey war of raid and ambush that has been going on the Reach for generations; the Combine may not be invading in full strength yet - they’re still fighting the Nova Cats, and Operation PELAYO’s thrown off a lot of their planning - but they're clearly preparing to do so, soon; they’ve already invaded Glenmora, Crossing and Hoff. Including, yes,” he shot Davion-Ross a nasty look, “at least the Fifth Sword of Light, and probably others.”

“Preposterous,” Davion-Ross muttered, and Erik gave him a nasty look.

“Then it must have been someone doing a very good impression of them that tried to kill me less than two months ago on Hoff. Amazing, really,” Erik layered contempt into his voice, “that I was fighting them face-to-face, and yet you know better than me who they were from two hundred lightyears away.”

Davion-Ross finally showed some association with good sense and didn’t rise to the bait, and Erik carried on.

“Draconis March Command needs reinforcements,” he stated flatly. “Exactly which units and where to send them is a matter for debate, but we need to be having that debate, not arguing about whether to send troops at all, before it’s too late.” He paused momentarily, letting those words sink in, before carrying on. “And I’m worried about how quiet Daoshen’s been. Not even probing raids towards Tikonov or Chesterton for the last eight months? He’s up to something, and I don’t want to be worrying about a dao in the back while we’re fighting the Kuritans.”

That drew general agreement; Daoshen Liao was insane, vain beyond belief and as vicious as a starving Caph neosaur to boot, and nobody - not even Harrison Davion (probably) - would expect him to do anything other than lash out for a perceived slight. Like other people existing without giving him what he wants.

“It’s possible, with - at least as far as we can determine - their being unaware of SUNSHOWER,” DMI Director Church - nobody knew if the quiet, exceptionally nondescript man had any other names - commented softly, “that the CCAF are reorienting towards facing the Free Worlds League. Certainly, MI4 have developed some intelligence that suggests that Andurien is where the bulk of McCarron's Armoured Cavalry are heading.”

“Why would he, though? Mask ops I could see, sure - the Mariks've never needed much of a push to start squabbling," Marshal Addison Donahue said, the Lancer - Federated Suns, not Crucis - GOC rubbing absent-mindedly at his cybernetic eye as he gathered his thoughts. "A large scale military action - that seems like exactly what Jessica Marik would want. A nice big external war to quiet all the doubting voices; hell, might even get the Regulans on-side. Lester Cameron-Jones hates her, but all our psych data says he hates the Liaos more.”

"Yes; although the evidence is promising, the motivation lacks," Church agreed. “An open move against the League would only add to the Capellans’ enemies while gaining them little; so, all that we know is a number of the Confederation’s most powerful, experienced and mobile units have left their normal deployment stations.”

“Is it possible they know about SUNSHOWER?” The words dropped into the conversation like lead ingots into a still pond, and Erik only realised that he’d been the one to say them when all eyes turned to him.

All except Caleb’s, that is; his were focussing on Church and on MIIO Deputy Director Harding.

“Well,” the First Prince asked, a brittle calm in his voice. “Is it possible the Liaos have figured out SUNSHOWER?”

“It’s … possible, yes,” Harding said after a brief exchange of glances. “Despite their sadism, the Maskirovka are neither stupid or incompetent; and moving as many ships and regiments as we are is impossible to actually hide. But there’s no sign that they know anything in detail.”

“I see.” Caleb’s darkly intense gaze fixed on Erik. “Exactly how serious do you believe this Kuritan invasion to be, Champion?”

“Very, Highness,” Erik replied. “And they want us to know that they mean it; the Swords of Light are a powerful statement. If hitting Hoff and Crossing was simply a reprisal strike for PELAYO, Toranaga would’ve sent the Benjamin Regulars in and claimed it was just overzealous local commanders, but the Fifth Sword,” Erik shook his head. “They’re not deniable at all.”

“Admiral Min,” Caleb’s head tracked across like a tank’s turret, fixing on the small, slight naval officer, “How quickly can Transport Command begin redeployments towards the Draconis March?”

“Most of our independent transport groups are tied up with preparations for SUNSHOWER,” Seung-hyun explained, moving to the holotank’s controls with the loose, rolling gait of one used to microgravity - Erik wasn’t sure if she’d spent a week straight on a planet any time in the last twenty years; certainly it was only a direct command from Caleb that’d gotten her off her Avalon-class flagship now - and highlighting JumpShip groups and routes. “However, the Fifth Ceti, Twenty-second and Twenty-seventh Avalon Hussars, as well as the Third Armoured Cavalry and the Second and Seventh Crucis do have their transport groups on station and charged up; they can be moving within a week of getting the order to redeploy. Anything more than that will take at least three weeks.”

“Right then.” Caleb turned inwards then, his expression freezing in thought for a moment. Erik let him, glaring the rest of the High Command into keeping their peace; if Caleb wasn’t like some of his ancestors - who’d been able to hold a whole campaign in their mind’s eye without effort - he wasn’t stupid, and thinking did him better than pressure into an impulsive choice. Then: “Orders,” Caleb began speaking quickly, “Second Crucis and Third Armoured Cavalry to Kentares, Seventh Crucis and Twenty-second Avalon to Kestrel in preparation to move up to Robinson. I want full evaluations of what forces we have to redeploy to the Draconis March beyond that. And I want it done, fast,” he added, fixing Davion-Ross in particular with a harsh look, “I don’t care how likely you think a major Kuritan offensive is.”

As ripples of activity spread outwards, Erik took the opportunity to catch the eyes of the Department of Merc Relations rep - Colonel Allison Benfleet, another ally - and Capellan March Command’s envoy - some Hasek cousin he didn’t recognise. They needed to plan out more intel raids; mercenaries and regular troops both, and I need to get in touch with South Wind. Always Erik’s best, most reliable asset for divining Capellan intent, and one that he’d managed to keep hidden from everyone - well, almost everyone. He still didn’t know how cousin Aaron had found out about them.

He looked at the situation map, taking a moment to try and divine something beyond the obvious from what it showed. Unfinished Book, he’d take the insights of some wandering bottle-born mystic at this point to get a look inside Daoshen’s planning.

[Steve]

Celestial Palace Situation Room
Zi-Jin (Forbidden) City, Sian
Capellan Confederation
21 January, 3143

Contradictions were, it seemed, a constant in sang-jiang-jun Isabelle Fisk’s life.

Take now, for instance. Here, in the Situation Room at the very heart of the Celestial Palace complex, she should feel safe while she and others developed the best way to bring about the Celestial Wisdom’s will. Above them, surface to orbit weaponry, squadrons of aerospace fighters and pocket WarShips, and the mighty cruiser Aleisha Kris - one of the largest remaining WarShips in the Inner Sphere - hung in readiness to die to defend Sian. Regiments of the finest troops in the CCAF guarded the palace complex itself; and within the innermost circle that contained the Liao family’s own quarters as well as the Situation Room, a full company of the elite Death Commandos was posted as sentinels. The Situation Room itself could - at least in theory - withstand a repeat of the bombardment that had levelled most of the original palace complex during the Jihad.

And yet, she’d felt safer engaging Republican BattleMechs in her younger years than she did in this ostensibly secure location.

Part of it was those silent watchers. If their commanding officer were to tell them that the woman in the sang-jiang-jun’s uniform was a threat to the Chancellor, Isabelle knew that the Death Commandos would cut her down without a second thought; would do the same to an unarmed Buddhist monk. Or their own mothers, probably.

On the overhead displays, two screens showed readiness reports; on the other two, the Confederation was outlined in jade - or, rather, the Confederation as envisioned by a particularly optimistic court historian. She carefully did not let even a fraction of her true feelings at the breathtaking arrogance of already shading Chesterton and Calloway VI, neither of which had ever been part of the Confederation and neither worlds that the Davions or Mariks would give up without a fight, in Liao green - if shot through with gold and purple respectively - show; that would not be wise,with both Daoshen and Ki-linn in attendance.

Isabelle shook herself out of her thoughts. Right now, she needed to focus on the practicalities, not lead herself into philosophical woolgathering.

“ … So, with the induction of the latest graduates,” Xavier McCarron - as ever, one of the dedicated spokesmen of the Strategios was saying, “our casualties from GREAT FLOOD have been made good. We still need time to get everything shaken down to full effectiveness, but as of now,” the balding, mustachioed veteran smiled, “the CCAF are at as close to full readiness as it’s possible to be, given time and communications lag.”

And for once, he’s not gilding the lily, Isabelle thought as she marshalled her own facts for the next stage of this briefing. Every unit was at better than ninety-five percent book strength; some, like the Second McCarron’s, were even over book strength, and that hadn’t happened since before the Jihad.

“For how those forces should be employed,” McCarron continued with a showman’s flourish, “I would turn to Strategy Director Fisk.”

Isabelle gave him a curt nod in reply - she didn’t like McCarron’s tendency to flamboyance whenever he thought he could get away with it, but it was useful - and gestured for the young sao-wei manning the display controls to bring up the prepared planning outlines.

“The Strategios have developed three operational concepts for our future campaigns, now that we have put the Republic’s theft of our worlds to rights.” Rhetoric like that annoyed her - mostly for its imprecision - but you spoke to your audience. “The first, Operation SCEPTRE, is a limited strike to take Pinard and New Vandenberg from the Taurians. The second, KALEIDSCOPE, is of a similarly limited scope, intended to secure Calloway VI while the Mariks are distracted. And the third, CELESTIAL REWARD, is the largest; aiming for the decisive defeat of the Capellan March and restoring Victoria, Chesterton and Tikonov to the Confederation.” Swatches of green spread across the map, each marked for the operation it represented.

She waited, allowing those present to absorb the planned operations and consider the implications, before carrying on.

“At this time, Celestial Wisdom, I would argue against SPECTRE or KALEIDSCOPE. Both would not be worth the effort we would have to expend in order to launch them. And,” she steeled herself for thunderbolts from Ki-linn, “if we are to launch CELESTIAL REWARD, then it must be soon, or it will fail.”

“You think time will somehow sap our soldiers’ will?” Ki-linn’s sharp tones, and her clearly aggressive stance would have shaken others, but Isabelle didn’t fear her - which, she suspected, put her in a distinct minority among those who knew Ki-linn. Still, it isn’t wise to underestimate her, either.

“I deal in facts, Celestial Wisdom, not rhetoric,” Isabelle directed her reply towards Daoshen, who was the only person she’d known able to restrain Ki-linn’s temper. “And the facts are that while currently - thanks to Harrison Davion’s neglect - the AFFS are at the weakest they have been for a century, Caleb Davion is a far more energetic and aware ruler than his father; and Aaron Sandoval -”

“A thief of worlds,” Ki-linn snarled, before a gesture from Daoshen silenced her.

“I am discussing his abilities, not his morals,” Isabelle continued calmly. “He’s a capable soldier and strategist, and a far more than merely capable administrator. Others have been appointed, and we’ve been seeing the results. Sang-shao McCarron can verify that.”

“Sang-jiang-jun Fisk has the right of it,” Xavier agreed. “The Feddies haven’t ever lacked for guts, but since Caleb took over, shook up their command structure and took the gloves off, they’ve been fighting better - not just harder, but smarter, their morale’s picked up a hell of a lot. And they’ve been building up, too.”

“I would estimate that we have a viable window for CELESTIAL REWARD of at most twenty-four months, and more likely eighteen. After that, our odds of success decrease exponentially,” Isabelle concluded.

“Why?” Daoshen’s quiet, dangerous rasp seemed to fill the whole space, his eerie, almost pure black gaze seeming to draw her into a universe where he and she were the only inhabitants.

“Because we were already at maximum wartime production, Celestial Wisdom,” Isabelle replied. “The Federated Suns are only now fully mobilising their production potential; Harrison Davion was a blessing for us in that respect. But they have almost four times our worlds, and much greater industries to draw on now that they are mobilising. We may deplore the historical accidents that have made this so, but,” she shrugged, “the facts ae as they are.”

“I see.” Daoshen leaned back in his throne, fingers steepled as he turned inwards, contemplating. Then: “How long, sang-jiang-jun, would you require to prepare and launch CELESTIAL REWARD?”

“Three months.” Isabelle called up the estimates her staff had done without conscious thought. “I would prefer four to six, or longer if at all possible, to ensure that all of our forces are in place and suitable supplies built up, but three months is the minimum.” Daoshen appreciated hearing the truth, not just what you thought would make him happy. “I cannot guarantee victory. Celestial Wisdom. However, I do believe that within the window outlined is our best opportunity for victory.”

“Four months, then,” Daoshen pronounced. “Sang-jiang-jun, coordinate with Sang-shao McCarron, Gang-shiao-zhang Hui,” the Grand Master of the Warrior Houses looked up from a whispered conversation with his aide and gave her a considering nod, “and the Commonality jiang-juns. By late May, I want all to be in readiness.” Something dangerous glinted briefly in Daoshen’s eyes.

“Then, we settle matters with the Davions.”

[Steve]

A note of thanks to CommanderRazor from the Spacebattles.com web forum for some input on character material.

36 - Warriors' Rede


AFS Charles Sinclair, Inbound
Timkovichi System, Coventry Province
Lyran Commonwealth (disputed)
30 January 3143


The return of OpForce Siegfried to Timkovichi was a tense matter.  They burned in at a 1.5G pace, not too difficult for the crews if fatiguing after a few days.  On final approach Evan's Kell Hound and the Wolf DropShips broke away burning out to a safe distance rendezvous with the Epaminondas and her force.  The remaining ships, bearing the Eighth Strikers and the Hounds from the other side, continued their deceleration burning for orbit over those last couple of hours.

Tensions rose among these ships, escorted in by the Sara Proctor, Epaminondas, and Cuchulainn plus their escorting DropShips, as they approached the orbital space.  The Jade Falcon WarShips loomed ever-larger on the holotanks, including that in the command center of the Charles Sinclair.  General Bridger, feeling his years with the extra gravities pushing him into the deck plates, stood quietly beside his commanders and Colonel Martinez.  Khan Patrik and Evan Kell were present, riding on the Sinclair while their troops would remain in a holding pattern to see how things went.  "I don't like being this close," Evan growled.  "Any moment those bastards might just open up on us."

"If need be we'd cut our deceleration velocity, begin maneuvers, and run for the Glass," Martinez said.  "But not all of us would make it, I think, unless Captain Winters and her force are very quick to intercept incoming fire."

"Chistu has honored safcon so far," Patrik rumbled.  "But it makes me long for the WarShip fleet our Clan once fielded."

"Flash traffic from Colonel Ward and Colonel Patel," a comm officer said.  "'We'll see to the delivery ASAP.  Good luck and Godspeed'."

"Pull us from the course to the Glass, helm," said Martinez.  "Make for the landing site at Field Base Carroll."

"Aye sir."

The Charles Sinclair's lateral thrusters fired, pushing her away from the other DropShips and WarShips.  The large collection of aerodyne and spheroid DropShips bearing Colonels Ward and Patel and their comrades continued on their course to the persistent blue field that, even now, followed Timkovichi on its course around its star.  "The damn thing is so odd," Martinez mumbled.

"What do you mean by that, Colonel?" Evan drawled.

Martinez indicated the image.  "The Glass.  It has no mass that we can discern, it shouldn't be influenced by gravity, but yet, it is.  It's remained in orbit over Timkovichi from the day of the misjump.  It doesn't follow the planet's rotation, but it does follow its orbital path around the star."

"A peculiar mystery indeed, but one best left to the scientists to decipher, as is their rede. We are warriors, and have our own redes to follow," Patrik said.

On the viewer, the WarShips started pulling away as well, burning away from Timkovichi and leaving the DropShips.  One by one they went through the Glass, disappearing within the intense blue light of the field.

"We have a landing course from traffic control," the helmsman confirmed.  "Deceleration burn has us down to proper orbital entry speed, preparing for landing."

"COB, sound landing alarm, all hands to landing stations."  Martinez sat in his chair and pulled his harness on.  The other harness-bearing guest-chairs magnetically set onto the bridge soon bore Bridger and the others.

"Aye sir."  The ship's Chief of the Boat, Master Sergeant Phillips, brought over a microphone tying into the ship's intercom.  "All hands, landing stations, I repeat, all hands, landing stations."

Silence settled over the bridge, allowing Martinez and his crew to do the job of bringing them in for a landing.  Here's hoping these kids can pull this off, Bridger thought.  Or we'll be leaving again soon enough.




Field Base Carroll HQ was a busy place even without its new arrivals, but now it was packed.  Bridger, Patrik, and Evan led some of their respective command officers in and were met by the assembled officers of the defensive effort.  Salutes were exchanged.  Nadia followed up her salute with "Good to see you back, Colonel.  I was wondering if we'd ever meet again."

"Well, wonder no longer."

"General Singh."  Bridger accepted the salutes of Singh and his officers.  "You've met Colonel Kell.  This is Khan Patrik Fetladral of the Warden Wolves of Arc-Royal, they joined us for the Morges operation and followed us here."

"Khan, an honor."  Singh nodded his turbaned head in respect.  "Welcome to Timkovichi.  These are the commanders of the mercenary units, Force Commander Harcourt of Metal Fire and Lieutenant Colonel Huyten of the Lucky Stars, and Major Tanhause of the Timkovichi Armored Guards.  As well, my subordinates in the Second Royal…"  He introduced the 'Mech regiment and brigade commanders one by one.

Patrik nodded back.  After the introductions concluded, he said, "It is an honor to meet you all.  Your warriors do you, and your people, credit.  They have faced a superior foe, and acquitted themselves with courage and honour; I doubt even my own Alpha Galaxy could have done more."

"I regret that we could not prevail outright."

"Against Delta Galaxy and all those extra units Chistu picked up, you've held well enough," Evan offered.  "Not many units could've done better."  As sympathetic and genuine as his words were, they still didn't take the grim cast on Singh's face off.

Bridger understood perfectly.  The Second Royal Cuirassiers were summoned to protect Timkovichi, and they'd ultimately failed in that task, even if they'd fought as well as could be expected.  If only we'd had the First Lancers, or another outfit, brought through as well.  If only they'd had a proper damn fleet ready to intervene and not half a dozen jumps away!  The planners back in Roslyn let these people down.

"So where is this going down?" asked Laguna.  "I'll be briefing my pilot once we're done, let her get some time with info on her opponents."

Nadia did the honors of operating the holotank, highlighting what looked to have been a small town center near Cirenholm.  "Khan Chistu picked here, the abandoned town of Martenholm.  The place got wrecked in Malvina's original invasion and local authorities didn't get it rebuilt before the Falcons returned, so it's an open area.  We had a fight here just before this duel was arranged but all the salvage has been cleared out, though it has left some impressive rubble piles and a few more busted buildings."  A second button press brought up a white dome around and over the city.  "So the way this works is, nobody else goes within five kilometers, just a couple marked observation vehicles, one per side.  Airspace is likewise restricted out to twenty kilometers.  Leutnant Palisser and Lieutenant Penton will approach from the northwest, Chistu and her second, Star Colonel Roshak, from the southeast.  They stop at one kilometer from each other until her appointed Oathmaster gives the go signal, then they fight until one side's down, leaves the circle, or accepts hegira."

"Not good odds of that last one?" asked Bridger.

Nadia shook her head.  "Chistu can't be too lenient, I guess, the Mongols won't let her.  And her second is one.  Star Colonel Isaac Roshak of the Ninth Talon."

Evan snarled.  "That bastard.  Word is he massacred a whole battalion of surrenderin' soldiers on Graceland.  And the Ninth are some of the worst of the Mongol bunch."

"We bloodied their noses outside Faubourg a few days into the invasion, so he's probably aching for payback too," Harcourt added.

"The fight's in two days.  Chistu insisted," Singh said.  "So it'll give our young pilots a day to train together and get Lieutenant Penton her land legs back."

"Galaxy Commander Chistu's haste makes sense.  She would have hoped to overwhelm you with her forces in a week or two of fighting," said Patrik.  "You denied her a swift victory, and it undoubtedly undermines her intent to win the Khanship."

Evan shook his head at that.  "Unfortunately it probably makes the Mongols look sweeter to most of the undecided Falcons.  Easy winning instead of hard fighting."

"Such as it is with dezgra like them, preferring unearned victories to honorable combat."  Patrik smiled grimly.  "This is her attempt to cement a clean victory by Clan tradition despite the setback, and it will let her return in triumph should she prevail.  Her fate if she fails, I imagine, will be to face a challenge by the Mongols, and she would never become Khan.  She will fight to the death."

"What I'd like to know is why you sent your troops back through the Glass, General," Huyten asked.  "If push comes to shove, we could've used them."

"We've still got Khan Patrik's people and your side's First Kell Hounds out there," Bridger answered, "so we've got backup if it comes to it, and if we can get them planetside.  But our ships are bearing the wounded we picked up from Morges, as well as wounded troops, so they're on their way to Atocongo on our side.  Additionally, they're carrying our reports back to Arcadia as well as a few other important communications."

Huyten nodded his head in acceptance.  "Fair enough.  I suppose they'd just get bombed to death with us if the Falcons decided to start shooting."

"My thought exactly, yes."  And now it's all down to those two young women, thought Bridger.  One of whom I'm worried isn't up to the task.  We're going to need a little divine providence it seems…




For Eva, the feel and view of Field Base Carroll was understandably different from when the Eighth left four months before.  Anti-vehicle hedgehogs were already stacked and ready for deployment and a number of defensive positions were dug in various points along the access roads.  They were joined by ferro-crete tank traps and firing positions and prepared gun emplacements.  Most of the infantry were in an assortment of suits, mostly the Standard Infantry power armor with a few heavier sets around, carrying automatic gauss rifles that would be crew-served squad weapons for earlier unpowered infantry.

She shifted in the back seat of the GUSV — General Use Support Vehicle, often shortened to "Goose-V" or "Goose" — and noticed Kevin was giving her a worried glance.  In front of them, a private from the Eighth's support services unit was at the wheel, diligently watching the road.  "They're ready for a fight," she said, hoping it might divert Kevin's attention.

"Looks like it.  Are ye ready for yours, Eva?"

Damn him.  "About as much as I can be."  It was the simple truth, which said nothing about the dread in her stomach, so strong that during the burn in it'd nearly caused her to puke while running reactivation tests on her restored 'Mech.  A new 375XL engine was at the heart of her cored machine now, ready to power what she was assuming would be her last battle.

"Stop's up here, sirs," the driver said, indicating the central building.

"Thanks, Private, don't bother waiting.  We might be a while."

They were let out in front of the side entrance of the Base HQ.  Inside a waiting clerk with corporal stripes brought them to a small meeting room.  The holo-projector was active but not loaded with anything.  Eva went over and took a seat.

Kevin joined her.  "Alright, we have time to talk before Leutnant Palisser arrives.  Ye've been eaten up for two weeks now, Eva.  Everyone can see it.  Ye can't just keep it in."

She drew in a breath, not daring to meet his eyes for fear he'd see what was behind them.  "Honestly, sir, I can, and I will.  I have to."

"You're scared, aye.  We're all scared, always are, when fights come.  But ye act like ye're waiting for the gallows."

How fitting.  She chuckled at that, a dark, despairing little laugh.  "Aren't I?" she asked.  "Lieutenant—"

"'Kevin' will do, we're not talking as a lance loo and his MechWarrior, we're comrades.  Like we were at the start of this madness."

Yeah.  Before Lieutenant von Krager and Tom MacDonald died, and then Lieutenant Norton.  She glanced at his face before pulling her eyes away again.  He's the only one left from before that day.  The only one.  I can't let him down.  "Kevin.  Let's… let's be honest here.  I'm going to go out in a couple days, fight one of the Clanners' best, and she's going to kill me.  I'm… I'm going to do what I can, I'm not going to run, but there's no way I can beat their best.  I'm not good enough.  I might've died in that first fight if Captain Kincaid hadn't come in and helped, and Hazen killed her with a single shot."  She swallowed and took a breath.  "And Great X, they hammered us, remember?  We didn't have many losses but… they still did a lot of damage.  And I should've died on Morges.  They cored my machine, had me dead to rights."  As she spoke her voice began to shake.  She tried to get it under control but couldn't.  Her fear of her impending death was too strong, too solid, to drive off.  "I know death's part of a MechWarrior's life.  My parents and uncles and aunts and cousins all warned me.  My instructors at the Nagelring warned me.  But it was just… there wasn't much of it anymore, right?  I just never thought of it as something we'd face.  But now it's here and it's killing everyone around me and… I'm having trouble handling it."  She waited to see if he'd say something, but something in his eyes told her he wasn't going to.  He'd seen the same death, after all, and was only a couple years her senior.  This was all new to him too.

After a short pause she continued.  "I don't want to die, Kevin, and I know I am.  And what's worse is, everyone thinks I'm some hero because I helped get that last shot on Hazen, like that pub back on Arc-Royal, all those Wolf warriors and the Hounds, they act like I'm some badass ace hero when I'm just a stupid kid who wanted to be like my parents."  She choked back her tears, which refused to cease.  "I'm a fraud.  No hero.  And I'm scared I'm going to not just die but let everyone down.  I'm scared she's going to just take a single shot, boom, I'm dead, she wins, the Clans win, and I'll have died for nothing.  Just… letting everyone down, all these brave Roy-Cees who've been trying to hold the planet, having to leave because Eva Penton wanted to be a hero and couldn't hack it."  She stopped there, in part because it was taking everything to not dissolve into despair, and because she had nothing left to say. It was out there, and now she had to wait for his judgment.

"Ah, Eva, lass…  Ye've nothing to prove," Kevin said.  "Ye're better than ye think, I'll say, but…  in your place I'd be swallowing down fear pretty hard too."  He took a chair and leaned in towards her.  "Don't worry about the expectations.  Remember yer training, keep yer head, and ye might just surprise folk."

"He's right."

Eva turned her head towards the door.  Though it'd been a few months, she recognized Allison Palisser, now wearing an LCAF field uniform and not sporting an injury like the last time.  She took in a breath before asking, "You've been listening?"

"Didn't catch it all," Allison admitted.  She smiled thinly.  "Just enough.  And you’re not wrong to be scared, Eva; anybody sane would be.  I know I am. We’re taking on the best the Falcons have left to throw at us, and this is for pretty much all the marbles. But, well," another thin smile, "I figure Ian Davion said it best; 'Courage isn't not being afraid, it's being afraid and doing what you've gotta do anyway'. So, I've got every battleROM recording of Chistu and this Roshak clown we could put together, if you'd like to view them with me.  We can figure out how to survive after all."

"If ye don't mind, I'd like to stay and give advice, if I've any to give," Kevin asked.

"Oh, all for it, Lieutenant Kilroy."

Eva nodded.  "Yeah, I'd like you to stay too.  You might see something we don't."

"Pleased to be of service, then."




The planning session went well enough, even if it confirmed most of Eva's fears.  Those occasions when Chistu took the field she was a force of nature, her shots on target and her maneuvers skillful and quick.  Roshak was a sledgehammer by comparison; brutal, direct, and hard-hitting.  He didn't care about getting hit himself so long as he was tearing a foe apart in the process.  Kevin gave his suggestions while Eva and her new partner considered their strategy; the following day they'd do some maneuvers together to get in sync before the big fight.

With all of that past, and the end of the day fast approaching, Eva found herself at the table in her bunk space on the Charles Sinclair.  A plain sheet of paper sat before her, an erasable pen laid on it.  She stared at it for several minutes, collecting her thoughts before she'd put them to paper.

When she was ready, Eva reached her hand out, claimed the pen, and started to write.


Dear Mom and Dad,

When this gets to you, I'll be dead.  You'll be told why, and I hope we pull it out in the end, but I'll be gone anyway.  I'll do my best whatever happens, I promise, I don't want to let you down.  After everything you went through in the war, the least I could do for you is to die with courage, even if I'm having trouble finding it.  Because I'm really scared.  The way these Clanners fight is something else.  Like their 'Mechs are just part of their bodies, it feels like.  I'm not sure I could ever be that good.  And I know I'm not now.  I can't win this fight.  I know I can't.  All I can do is try to make it last before my opponents kill me.

I'm scared.  So scared.

The tears in her eyes forced her to stop briefly, to wipe them clear, before continuing.

I'm scared to die.  And I'm scared I'll let everyone down.  This fight is supposed to be for the planet.  All these people will end up under the Falcons and it'll be my fault for not being good enough.  I wanted to be like you, to be a hero fighting for the Federation and House Proctor, but now I feel like a fraud.  Like picking this life is the greatest mistake I've ever made, and it's going to kill me and hurt a lot of people, because I'm not cut out for this.  I'm not good enough.

Writing the words helped.  She would have preferred saying them to her parents, of course, and getting to see them one last time, even if it meant seeing the disappointment on their faces.  But at least she was talking to them, in a way.  At least they would know how sorry she was for her failures, and how much she wanted to do the right thing.

But I can't undo my choices.  I'm a MechWarrior of the Federation, I'm a Sunhawk, and I have a duty to perform, whatever it costs.  I'm going to go and be brave now.  Whatever happens, I love you, and I'm proud to have been your daughter.

A sense of closure settled over her spirit.  She'd said her goodbyes, expressed her fears, and made everything as clear as she could.  There was nothing left to do but focus on the fight, give it her all, and die well.

Love,
Eva

With that final note, she folded the paper up, set it into the envelope, sealed it, and wrote her parents' name and address across it.  It wouldn't get to them for months, long after the official death notification from the AFRF would arrive, and probably after the service they'd hold.  She could only hope it'd give them, if not peace, understanding.

With the letter prepared and placed into her effects, Eva settled onto the bunk to get some much needed sleep.  Tomorrow would be training, and the day after, her doomsday.  And though the fear of death would yet claw and choke her being, she would face it as her parents had, and their parents, and so many others.  She'd obey her oath to the last.  That was all there was to it.

All things considered, Eva slept surprisingly well.

[Wrangler]

This will be interesting trial.  Wonderful Writing, Steve.

[mikecj]

I'm enjoying this.  Thanks for sharing it.

[Steve]

I'm enjoying this.  Thanks for sharing it.

You're welcome.  Anyway, new chapter is ready, and it's OVER NINE THOUSAND!!!!... words. 8)  And will probably need breaking up into two or even three posts here.  Standby...

[Steve]

37 - The Truth Marches On


Senate Chambers, Laughlin Capital District
Roslyn, Eastern Islay
Arcadia, Arcadia Royal March
Royal Federation
31 January 3143



The Senate of the Federation kept its chamber in the east wing of the Palace of Parliament.  Ordinarily this space would be vacant on a Sunday, but today it was not, nor had it been the prior day.  At the behest of the monarch, the Senate was in session to debate a matter of "grave importance"; namely, the enactment of the terms of the treaty High King Nathaniel had just completed with Lady Trillian.

For this reason Trillian, and many of her staff, were seated in the Royal Box, the special observation seats off to the side that, unlike the Visitors' Gallery, had direct access to the Senate floor.  In ascending tiers outward, organized by their corresponding marches, the six hundred Senators of the Federation were in attendance.  It is half-representative, half-appointed, Trillian recalled.  Half are democratically elected by the peoples of their planet and star system.  The other half are directly appointed by the planetary ruler, whether they are elected or inherited, commoner or noble.  She noted the Senate Chamber was not so much smaller than the Federation Assembly Chamber even if their number was over a third, overall, of the Assembly, giving the assembled senators greater room at their desks.

The treaty itself was not the point; treaties, after all, remained the sole purview of the High King.  Rather it was the monies needed to enact the provisions, that is, to meet the expanded military budget for supplying the troops Nathaniel intended to lead through the Glass, to raise and reactivate units to meet the Federation's defensive needs during the conflict (or to hire mercenaries to supplement said defenses), and to provide the war material that Trillian's earlier loans and grants couldn't afford.  Without this, the alliance was nothing more than proverbial ink on the page.  And while Nathaniel could employ Crown authority to make budget changes "in an emergency", to do so in defiance of Parliament, or without at least consulting them, would be a massive break with tradition, virtually a constitutional crisis for the Federation, as the powers he held for that purpose had never once been used and were controversial to many.

And yet, Trillian wished he could do just that, given how the session was going.

"You have heard the truth, my friends, and nothing but," Zento said, his voice vibant for all he'd been talking for most of the prior two hours.  "Our King, young and eager to prove himself, is not acting in our best interest.  The war across the Glass is not a matter of our security.  Especially not when Azami raiders yet plot to strike at the Isle of Skye, when the Dragon of Luthien's shadow looms over Arcturus, the revolutionaries grow restless on Sudeten, and when the rapacious Capellans remain to threaten our Atrean and Terran worlds.  Indeed, even Tamarind and Bolan might have cause to wonder what the so-called King of Pilpala plots from his perfumed harem, and whether the legions at his disposal can be held back when they yearn for treasure and glory."

He does not accuse Imperatrix Julia of plotting aggression, then?  Trillian wondered at that. I suppose he does not wish to insult her, but he is certainly not adverse to slandering the Federation's other neighbors.

"Time and time again, the King has heard our protests, and yet he persists upon this course.  He even bullied the Privy Council into it with the connivance of his doting grand-uncle."  Zento's eyes focused a moment too long on Prince Peter, showing the animosity there.  He's taking Prince Peter backing my treaty a bit too personally?  Did Peter betray some kind of prior connection? Trillian wondered.  "Now we of the Senate are called into special session and harangued with lurid tales of butchery and atrocity, to goad us into spending our worlds' hard-earned wealth on the High King's flight of fantasy!  If the King wishes to prove himself on the battlefield, perhaps he should not be pushing peace with our greatest enemy, or ignoring the Kuritan threat.  Perhaps if he so worried about stopping atrocity, he should lead his armies to New Wessex and save the peoples of that world from their Combine oppressors!  Yet he has talked peace for months, refusing any such measures, and only now supporting them for people not his own!  We cannot stand for this!  We, as a united people, must demand the Crown protect our lives, our worlds, our interests.  Not those of a treacherous Lyran state and their deceitful envoy!"

There were some cheers from the assembled, but only a few.  From what Trillian could tell, most wanted to get on with matters.  But Zento had the floor and he was refusing to give it up.

While Zento took a quick drink, Senator Bujold from Bondurant stood.  He directed his eyes towards the podium, where Dame Tessa Stuart was seated, Nathaniel and Peter behind her in chairs that were kept specifically for the monarch and the head of the Privy Council to observe the Senate proceedings from, though from what Trillian had seen and read, they had no formal power to address the Senate directly unless called upon.  Bujold spoke in careful tones, his accent less refined than that of his ruler, the charming Duke de Fortemps Trillian met on New Year's.  "Madame President, perhaps it is time that we actually voted on the King's proposal?  We have been discussing the matter for two days without any new information, merely platitude and posturing."

Zento lowered the water bottle and barked, "I protest, I have not relinquished the floor!"

"Then I move that we invoke cloture, and end this obstructionism by the Lord Senator of Summer."

Stuart nodded and replied in her Caledonian burr, suitably softened for the purposes of protocol.  "Motion to invoke cloture is registered.  Do any wish to second the motion?"

The first voice to call out was a female senator Trillian didn't immediately recognize, her desk nameplate reading Serfass.  Could she be House Serfass?  Maybe even Alarion's Senator?  The woman spoke in a pitch perfect Star League English accent.  "I second."

"Very well.  A vote to close debate is open."

The clerks quietly and dutifully recorded the incoming votes.  Trillian waited patiently, hoping to hear it would end.  She was certain she had the votes in the Assembly and quite certain here too, but it wasn't just enough to have a majority.  To compel Zento to relinquish the floor and proceed to the vote on the emergency budget allocations Nathaniel submitted, it would need to be a three-fifths majority.  Otherwise Zento would retain the floor.

After a couple minutes the Senate's Clerk, a tan-skinned woman with what Trillian thought of as a slight Leaguer accent, called out the results.  "Three hundred thirty-four in favor, two hundred and sixty-six opposed."  A listing of the votes was reflected on a holographic projection.

A satisfied grin crossed Zento's face.  The majority was short by twenty-six votes.  From what Trillian saw of the results, he'd maintained a strong block of support among his own Isle of Skye as well as the Principality of Atreus and the New Earth, New Dallas, and Stewart Marches, combined with a collection of votes from the other regions sympathetic to his arguments, including a sizable number of the "Concert" block of pro-peace senators.  She felt a weight on her heart at it.  Every day lost is another day the Wolves have to seize Tharkad.  Zento, and whomever is backing him, are killing my people with these tactics.

"I call for adjournment."  The gray-haired visage of Senator Ashenafi spoke; he was seated near the front and of particular prominence as one of Arcadia's senators.  "Time spent to discuss matters may yield compromise so that the Senate might move on to a vote."

"I will second," said Zento, still grinning.  "And will be ready to resume my statements upon the Senate reconvening in the morning."

Grumbling came from some of the assembled.  Dame Stuart, with an expression that spoke volumes of what had to be frustration, said, "I acknowledge the Lord Senator will by rights have the floor upon reconvening, but I strongly urge him to consider making his remaining remarks short so the Senate's business may continue."

The grin slipped.  Trillian wondered why Stuart had just said what she said, since it was clearly against Zento's intent to hold up the vote, and thus seemingly put her in support of Nathaniel.  "And I will urge the President of the Senate to remember the rights of Federation Senators," he replied, his voice particularly forceful.  "Especially when the matter concerns war and the overstretching of Crown authority against Parliament's rights."

I would almost think he is trying to goad Nathaniel into acting unilaterally, Trillian thought.  It seems that no matter the history, Skye will always be defiant, selfish, and utterly delusional.

"Do any object to an adjournment for the day?"  When none spoke, she hammered her gavel.  "Then the Senate is adjourned, we will reconvene in regular session at eleven hundred tomorrow."  Trillian recognized the near-lunchtime convening was to permit Senate committees to hold their own sessions, though she wondered if it was also time for wheeling and dealing to break the impasse.

A number of Senators jumped from their seats and went for the doors, presumably those with calls to make.  Trillian buried her head in her hands for a moment, rubbing at her temples and trying to figure out how to help break the deadlock.  Zento's support, while in the apparent minority, was strong enough to keep him talking when the next day came, unless something broke.

One of her aides, a young woman from Arc-Royal she'd picked up on Martin Kell's suggestion, leaned towards her.  "Lady Trillian, the Assembly passed the amended budget earlier," she murmured.

"By how much?" she asked.

The aide — Samantha?  No, Sarah — checked the noteputer again.  "The vote was seven hundred and sixty-two for, six hundred and thirty against, my Lady."

"Thank you, Sarah," Trillian said, and was satisfied to see a small grin and nod.  She'd remembered the name right.  One of the advantages to being raised in the Royal Court, finding ways to keep names straight…  if only I could be satisfied by the outcome.  A substantial block opposed Nathaniel.  His people are not united in this effort at all.  How much is he risking the Federation's stability to aid the Commonwealth?  Am I setting him up to be usurped as well?  Politics here seemed too settled for that, but then again, it might simply be that such sentiments were not so easily found.

She noted Zento was at his desk still, conversing with some of the other senators.  She pursed her lips and, in a moment of impulse, left the Royal Box by its front entrance and approached him.  She didn't go unnoticed either, and his eyes were on her by the time she got to the desk.  "My Lord Zento, what do you want?"

"Hrm, Lady Trillian?"

She tried to keep her voice level.  "You have obstructed me from the first day we met.  You've never met my arguments on why the alliance is in your interest, only continued to insult my character and my people, and I have little idea what you truly want.  You say you are for the defense of Skye, but nothing I am asking for prejudices that defense."

"Your estimation of our needs does not match our own, Lady Trillian," he answered.  "The King can give our militias better 'Mechs and equipment, he can reactivate a regiment of the Skye Rangers, but it doesn't change that his policies have been to reward those threatening us while pursuing a war that does not involve us.  I don't know what hold you have over Nathaniel, but I am impervious to your charms, my Lady, and I consider you an enemy for diverting the King's attention from his people."

"You act like Nathaniel is a child wanting glory, but he's been perfectly understanding of the realities of this situation," Trillian replied.  "He recognizes that the death of the Commonwealth will jeopardize your people too."

"What, with this talk of the Clans?"  Zento laughed.  "They will be busy gorging themselves on the Commonwealth's corpse, or pursuing the Terrans of your Inner Sphere.  They are not so foolish as to pursue a war here, no matter what you may insist about their warmongering.  And even if they did, the Ghastillians and the Communists can deal with them.  My people have other threats to concern themselves with, threats that you only encourage the King to ignore or appease in his eagerness to fight for you."  As his voice hardened towards the end, his eyes focused on her with a fury she found disturbing.  "You ask what I want, Lady Trillian?  I want you gone.  I want you off Arcadia and back through that magic portal, dealing with the problems your people made for themselves without begging for our help.  Then maybe we can get our King's mind back on his duty to our people."

Trillian opened her mouth to protest but stopped.  She'd argued the Clans' behavior for months now and could, she now saw, do so until she was blue in the face.  It would not move Zento.  His eyes blazed with hate and obstinate purpose.  No word of hers would reach him.  He was set against her and against her people for whatever reason.  "You would not be the first to underestimate the Clans' desire for battle," she said before giving a courtly bow and walking away.




At her return to the Palace, Trillian made for her suites.  She'd returned to them only a day ago, after four days of intensive investigation ensured MacCarter left no bombs or other devices and that she was secure.  A pair of Lifeguards now stood outside her door at all times, their power-armored figures ready to deal with any other assassin sent by the usurpers… or, she now wondered, Zento or someone like him. The resentment I saw there was real, and it frightens me.  How many here share it?

Her staff, likewise cleared by both her security personnel and the Arcadian Royal Security Service, already had the day's papers ready for her, including the formal outcome from the House.  The Senate is all that remains.  If Zento could be bypassed… but I do not know how, nor is it my place.  Nathaniel will have to.

While looking over some of the budget items related to her arms purchases, Trillian turned on the trivid and made a soft trawl through news channels.  The Donegal Broadcasting Corporation's news channel, consisting of time-delayed recordings sent by HPG from Donegal, reflected polls showing that support for intervention was now sitting solid at seventy-percent.  When she swapped to the Atrean News Network, however, she was treated to a poll showing a bare forty percent "willing to consider some action" and seventy percent opposed to "alliance and direct intervention".  Skye News Service had even worse numbers, as well as a poll showing that the majority still considered the Azami and the Oriento-Capellans as the main threats to their well-being.  She finally tracked over to the Federation Broadcasting Corporation's all-news channel, which had no report at the moment as it was referencing efforts to deal with flooded townships in the Upper Siur River range on the continent of Munster.  Local news programming then, she thought.  With hundreds of worlds across the Inner Sphere, the sad fact was that someone was suffering some kind of natural calamity or inclement weather somewhere, especially on less-hospitable worlds.

There was a tone at the door.  Sarah looked up from the paperwork she was organizing for Trillian and went to the door.  She opened it and quickly gave a courtly bow, stepping aside as she did.  Trillian was on her feet by the time Sophia Marik stepped into the room.  Her robes were white and purple in coloring and a Marik eagle was stitched on the breast.  In my reality I would have reason to be wary of being around a Marik, Trillian thought. But not here.  "Lady Sophia.  To what do I owe the pleasure?"  She asked the question politely but could already imagine the answer.

"I wanted to see how you are handling your return to your room," Sophia said.  "And to convey King Nathaniel's assurances that today is not the end of the Senate deliberations.  Zento's obstruction will not last much longer."

"Can't it?" Trillian asked.  She couldn't quite keep the bitterness and frustration from her voice.  "Every effort to force him to relinquish the floor and allow a vote failed.  He still has enough votes to keep his mouth going for days.  I imagine he intends to provoke Nathaniel into imposing the budget alteration by decree?"

"Possibly, though the Assembly's vote will undermine the problems that would raise," Sophia said.  "It's also possible he hopes to provoke the Senate into an outright rejection as the price for resuming regular business.  Next year is an election year and many have domestic agendas they seek to promote, of course.  Zento is threatening that by costing them time on this."

"So they would refuse our alliance to resume normal business."

Sophia nodded.  "But Zento may be overplaying his hand.  The requirement for cloture was made to protect senators' right to address, but it was never meant to be used to obstruct, not like this.  If he persists even his supporters may bleed away.  After all, the same precedent might one day apply to their efforts."

Trillian nodded.  "It is the committed who sometimes lose sight of such unofficial restrictions, they are so determined to win they will hold to their course when no others had before."  She glanced at the trivid which was now openly reporting the results of various Federation-wide surveys on Trillian's alliance proposal.  Donegal, Alarion, Arc-Royal, and Porrima Marches all showed hefty supportive polls, and the Arcadia and Dar-es-Salaam Marches polled very strongly for her as well, with Bolan and Hesperus fairly supportive.  But even in those places, and in the Concord Free State, and Silver Eagle Republic, the support for the alliance treaty was below sixty percent.  Elsewhere Alexandria March was barely at fifty percent in favor while in Arcturus, the Isle of Skye, and the Principality of Atreus, over half were opposed to the alliance.  New Dallas March, at thirty-three percent in favor, was the most opposed to her.

"They're frightened of the Empire," Sophia said abruptly.  "Many of our worlds have been invaded by the Oriento-Capellans.  Atreus alone has been struck three times in the last half century.  The last time Atreus City nearly fell."

"How old were you?" Trillian asked softly.  She needn't ask anything else; it was plain to her that Sophia had personal experience on this count.

"Three."  Sophia shook her head.  "I remember pieces, really.  Having my fourth birthday party in a bunker in Atreus City.  My father couldn't be there, he was off with the Navy, so my uncle Jason visited.  My mother was pregnant with my little brother, though I didn't understand at the time.  I remember Jason giving me a gift of treats, dried Bondurant sweetberries, that I always loved.  'The last on the planet,' he told me."

"He was to you what Melissa's father Andrew was to me, I suppose," Trillian said.  "And her grandfather Adam.  He was always kind to me growing up."  She swallowed.  "What happened to him?  Your uncle?"

"He went back to his company in the First Atrean Dragoons and died a week later, killed in his 'Mech while trying to protect the city center," Sophia replied.  "And a week after that, the Navy launched a counter-offensive, broke the blockade, and landed reinforcements.  It was a few months later that the Knight Orders of Oriente finally withdrew.  Nearly half of Atreus' cities had some kind of damage.  Atreus City… I remember the rubble.  It took years to rebuild everything.  They only just finished completing the restoration of all the lost species of the Interstellar Botanical Gardens during my last visit home, two years ago."

Trillian nodded.  She's seen on Atreus, her Atreus, what I worry I'll see on my Tharkad.  "Do you think Nathaniel should turn me down, then?  It's clear many of your people think fighting as our allies will weaken your defenses here."

"No."  Sophia shook her head.  "My family still does.  My father and grand-uncle, Archduke Kenneth, aren't in favor of the alliance, well, not officially, though Father is sympathetic.  Nathaniel's had to make a lot of promises to them just to keep their opposition from becoming public, and it may not be enough.  But I think he has the right of it.  We can't concentrate against the Empire or the Combine if the Clans are at our back, we need your Commonwealth watching the Glass.  I've done everything I can to convince my family of that position, and I'm hopeful Uncle Ken will bend in the end and not force Nathaniel to fight for the alliance."

"Thank you, then, for your support, and I'm sorry if it interferes with your nuptials."  Trillian smiled sadly at her.  "I get the feeling you and Nathaniel will make a committed pair."

"I'm not sure it's love, not like you find in courtly romances or holodramas," Sophia said, meeting the sad little smile with one of her own.  "But I do believe in his vision of the future.  Peace for our Inner Sphere.  Never seeing my beautiful city in rubble again.  I can't imagine anyone who wouldn't agree with it."

"I have a feeling there are those who do."  Trillian cleared her throat.  "Do you think you'll persuade Nathaniel to leave the war to an appointed general?"

"Well, he'll certainly bring an experienced commander with him.  But he's still going in person, and the only way to stop him, Lady Trillian, would be for you to tear the treaty up."  Sophia shook her head.  "Stubborn Proctors, they always insist on leading from the front, unless they're too broken to do it.  He'll not be persuaded to give that up.  And it's not like the inheritance is in danger.  If he dies before we marry, before we have an heir, his aunt Princess Melissa will inherit.  She already has three children as well.  No, House Proctor will go on, and he won't allow for his troops to fight a war he stays away from.  It's not the family way."

Despite the energy in her words, Trillian could tell they were not the entirety of her views.  When it came down to it, Sophia wanted Nathaniel here, not across the Glass fighting a war.  After all, if he died, their dreams for the future likely died with him, as there was no guarantee his successor would embrace his vision in any way.  Hopefully he will be satisfied by a few visits to the front and consider his duty done.
 
Trillian drew in a sigh.  Our salvation will not be easy, we are going to bring pain to these people, and I don't think the Commonwealth can easily repay that debt.  I only hope Melissa and the others appreciate it.

By her side, the vidphone began trilling.  Trillian reached over and tapped the call key.  Lord Marienberg, her Chief of Staff, appeared on it.  He seemed pale, even accounting for the vidphone's display.  "Lady Trillian, there's something on the DBC… it's terrible, but you may wish to see it."

Oh no.  What has happened now?  "Thank you, my Lord."  She took up the trivid remote and set it back to the DBC news feed.

The holographic display created the crisp image of a field of snow and something consniderably darker.  Uniformed personnel were milling about, digging through the snow and… ash?  The lower corner of the screen read "AFRF Verigraphed Footage", "Morges", and "Clan-occupied System, Transglass".  At the top of the screen a content advisory warning was written in brilliant red, repeated in both English, German, and Gaelic.  Trillian recognized the array of uniforms quickly, a combination of Arcadian, Kell Hound, and Wolf Clan insignia and colors.  One of the Kell Hound personnel, an infantryman, reached through the snow and pulled up a rigid object that was soon identifiable as a human arm.

Within seconds more was brought up from the snow and ash until it was clear that it was, indeed, human; a corpse, covered in bruises, emaciated and weak, frozen stiff in the cold.

"This disturbing footage, bearing a verigraphed AFRF digital signature, was received yesterday by press correspondents on Atocongo from a force of AFRF units that returned past the Clan blockade of the Looking Glass," a female voice in a Donegal brogue explained.  "According to the attached report, it is the site of a mass grave found at a prisoner of war camp on Morges by the Eighth Strikers Brigade, who landed on the planet to liberate Lyran prisoners of war from Jade Falcon forces.  Some of the footage has been deemed not fit for broadcast, though it is believed to already be making the rounds on local planetary net sites on Atocongo and will likely spread from there."

Indeed there were signs of editing cuts as more bodies were fished from the pit, as were the burnt remains of human bones.  The bodies were in various states of mistreatment and malnutrition, some little more than skin and bones.  Some had visible bullet holes or laser burns from being shot, though more traumatic injuries were not among those broadcast.

"According to sources in the Eighth Strikers and the First Kell Hounds, no count of the deceased was feasible in their time on Morges, and the estimates are wildly variant, though intact remains numbered at one hundred and twenty-two when the camp had to be abandoned for military necessity.  An estimated two hundred more were killed during enemy shelling of the camp after its liberation, leaving over one thousand survivors.  Regretfully another hundred and ten died during the high-G transit from Morges made necessary by a Falcon war fleet arriving in-system."  The speaker remained off-screen, and given the growing strain in her voice, it was no surprise.  Trillian could imagine the woman paling as these words came from her throat.  While the loss of life was by scale not as great as other atrocities, the numbers alone could bring anyone to choke, and the appearance of the bodies made clear the sufferings of the deceased before their deaths.

There was a rustling beside her, joined by a wretching sound.  Trillian turned in time to see Sophia cradling a trash receptacle hurriedly gathered from the table between them, one she was freely vomiting into.  After a few seconds she stopped, though her face remained tremendously pale.  It made Trillian conscious of the gurgling in her own gut at the sight of so many of her fellow Lyrans dead at the Falcons' hands.  We failed them.  Melissa, General Maurer, Vedet Brewer, myself, we all failed them.  We should have been wiser.  We shouldn't have worked with Seth Ward and Alaric Wolf.  We shouldn't have been so greedy as to strike at the Mariks, not when the Falcons remained, not when Malvina was made Khan!  We should have done something!

It frustrated her.  Senator Zento, vicious as he was towards the plight of her people, wasn't wrong about that.  They had made mistakes, and they had caused this.  Now their greatest hope to recover from this war was the result of the miracle of the Glass.  Otherwise… otherwise the Commonwealth would have died, in all likelihood.  We would have only survived if the Clans let us.  Will only survive if they permit, should this alliance fail after all.

And all the while, the footage continued on.

[Steve]

The DBC was likewise active in Nathaniel's office.  He sat, quiet in his chair, while his uncle Prince Peter, Grand Admiral Stewart, and Lord Arnold watched quietly with him.  The footage of the mass grave was replaced by what looked like a DropShip wardroom.  A figure with pale dark skin, emaciated and worn, sat hunched on the chair with a mug of drink and the remnants of a ration pack before him.  He was favoring one wrist as a man might if his watch were removed and he was testing the skin it once covered.  "Hauptmann Peter Hoffman, Seventh Arcturan Guards, correct?" a voice asked from offscreen.

"Ja.  Yes."

"If you want to take a little while, I know the food is still settling…"

"Nein.  No.  I… I would like more, but only once the others are fed," he said.  "They did not feed us, usually.  A piece of bread or a cup of rice pudding a day, or whatever scraps remained from their own rations."

"What can you tell us about conditions?"

The man laughed bitterly, the tears forming in his eyes weighing more than words.  "What can't I?  They abused and tormented us.  We were only alive to be worked to death.  The Falcons, or those that called themselves Mongols, don't believe in taking prisoners.  We were not intended to survive, and we were never offered a chance to prove ourselves in such a way to join the Clan, not like they used to do with prisoners.  No.  We were to die slowly as punishment for resisting, to terrify others into surrendering."

"The Falcons told you this?"

Another harsh laugh.  "They bragged.  They even speculated which of us would die next.  Sometimes they killed us just to do it, or because we said the wrong thing, or had too much spirit in the way our eyes met them.  They… they hated us for fighting back.  It was like nothing I'd seen before from Clansmen, usually they preferred fighters, they wanted glory.  These Falcons, these Mongols, just wanted submission…"

Nathaniel's finger finally found the mute key, hushing the trivid player.  He drew in a breath before glancing across the room.  They are not taking it well either.  Even Arnold seems to still have a soul… no, that is unfair of me.  "We must put a stop to this," Nathaniel finally managed, even as the fire still burned within him.  "This is wrong."

"It is."  Stewart nodded.  "But it will not sway Zento.  The Kuritans behave like this too, after all, and you are not demanding war with them."

"War with House Kurita would start a new Succession War," Nathaniel reminded him bitterly.  Though I would love to send the Proctor and Royal Guards Corps and have them drag Ballymont back to face trial for his atrocities, to reclaim New Wessex and Vega for the Federation, the Combine would retaliate, and it would spiral.  The Peace of Dieron would be lost.  But I can do something here!  "Nor is the Combine the enemy I know many believe we should face first."

"It is not," Lord Arnold grumbled.  He turned to Nathaniel with his usual glare, but this time the fire wasn't quite there, restrained by the horrors they'd just seen.  "But what's done is done.  I will do my duty and obey your orders while giving you my advice.  And that advice is that your proposed intervention is not feasible under the current military budget.  The Senate must pass the amended budget, and Zento will block it with everything he has."

"He is abusing Senate rules to do so, surely that will sway them."

"Not if they don't want to be.  Not if they feel as deeply as he that this war is a mistake."  Arnold's voice made clear he agreed that it was.  "And others may decide to table the matter to get other business going again, which is certainly what he wants."

"If the Senate ignores this, then I will act."  That prompted the three men to stare at him.  "The Assembly approved the change."

"With a strong opposing minority," Peter reminded him.

"They still did.  I will honor my pledges to the defense of the Federation, but I will sign a Royal Decree altering the budget if the Senate does not stop Zento's petulant obstruction," Nathaniel swore.  "This is not simply honoring our word, not anymore.  This is a moral imperative.  Hazen's followers represent a force that our House was built to fight, that every oath House Proctor has ever sworn requires us to face with whatever might we can muster, and I will follow that oath."

"Zento may provoke revolt in Skye," Arnold said, drawing a ferocious glare from Peter after he did.  "The people there are restless.  They considered your grandmother one of theirs, but you are clearly not.  If you run off to fight in another Inner Sphere while they clamor for more defense…"

"I have given them new defenses, new 'Mechs, and a restored Skye Ranger unit.  If they wish to be ungrateful, then it will be dealt with as needed."  Damn Zento and damn Skye!  He didn't dare say that, not even in private, it was not something he could ever risk getting leaked.  But the feeling was there regardless.  "Princess Melissa's presence should show how much we're concerned with them.  Zento's protests aside, I think even the people of Skye would recognize their defenses are being seen to.  I will not humor his stubborn obstructionism any longer."

"At this point, I advise against anything hasty," said Peter.  "Do not mention a Royal Decree as possible, not until tomorrow.  Let's see how the session goes."

Nathaniel almost asked what he thought would be different.  But the words died before they could reach his throat.  It was evident things were different now, with the atrocities of the Clans being played on trivids for all to see.  Will it sway enough votes?  We will see.  And I will act accordingly.


Dr. Nancy Corey Memorial Hospital
Roslyn



Among the many trivids and flatscreens showing the new footage coming from beyond the Glass was the one in the secured hospital room of the Nancy Corey Hospital, where their most infamous current patient remained on her hospital bed, a helpless quadriplegic.  Beside the prone form of Malvina Hazen, John Albright was likewise looking at the display.  He was reminded of the footage a few years ago, when prisoners from the Third Proctor Guards were returned in a swap after their failed campaign on New Wessex.  The Kuritans had left them half-starved and abused as well.

The sight was such that he was left transfixed.  His last question to Malvina faded from his mind.  Dear God, look what they did to those poor people.  He glanced towards Malvina, curious as to her reaction.

No, I'm not just curious.  I want to see contrition.

But there was none.  Just a sort of hollow, uncaring look in her eyes, as if the suffering was nothing special, nothing to feel any emotion about.  After several moments she turned her head back towards him.  A bemused glimmer showed in her eyes.  "You are upset with me, Doctor John?"

"How can you look at that and not feel moved by the suffering?"

"It is easy.  Suffering has been my companion since the sibko, as you are well aware," she replied evenly.  "I was as hungry as they were quite often.  They fed us very little too, and if we stole food from the larder or the mess, we were ferociously punished.  I had one sibkin, Sichelgaita I believe… yes.  The Falconers beat her so badly she died from an infection a week later, all for stealing a tomato from their stores. So, we dealt with it, as a warrior must."

John swallowed.  "And you don't care, do you?  You don't appreciate what that suffering is?"

"It is suffering.  You are broken by it, killed by it, or you endure it and survive.  I chose to survive, as did Aleks.  So no, Doctor John, I do not care.  Their suffering means as little to me as any other."  Her eyes tightened and, damn her, a grin formed.  'Why, Doctor, I seem to have angered you.  Never have I seen such passion on your face."

He couldn't help it.  Her mental condition aside, her callousness towards the horror they were seeing, it stoked a fury in him.  In a moment of clarity he understood Lord Cassel and that committee of men and women he'd argued with so intently a month ago.  Malvina was the source of this horror and she was not, in the slightest, repentant of it.  She… she deserves to die.  And her victims deserve justice.

A low, throaty cackle came from Malvina.  "I think you wish to kill me.  Is that true, hunter of mental illness?  Please say it is so.  No, not just that.  Please, do kill me."  Her voice betrayed emotion, not just pleasure but an earnestness for destruction.  "I invoked bondsref, but I cannot carry it out.  Kill me, Doctor John.  Fulfill the rede burning in your breast and end my life."

Could I do it?  Just… just kill her?  No!  No, I am a doctor, not a killer.  He kept his eyes from the screen and focused on his thinking.  It is not my place.  It's not what I am.

"You suffered as well, so why do you care so little?" he asked her.  "Why hurt others like you were hurt?"

"Because that is the way of things.  Suffering is everywhere, and everyone will both endure and inflict it.  Those who are weak will die from it, the strong endure.  Such is the rede of life, Doctor John, and there is nothing you or your Arcadian morality can change about that."

Albright nodded stiffly.  "And you will never repent?  For the worlds you ruined, the lives you destroyed, the suffering you've wrought?"

"I do not know what 'repentance' even is," was her calm reply.  "But if you are asking if I have regrets, my regrets do not include the actions I took to glorify my Clan and crush my enemies."

"Very well."  He jotted that note down and stood.  "I am calling it a day."

"And I will linger here, suffering more," she said bitterly.

He couldn't bring himself to answer her.  She is a monster.  Remember that, John.  No matter how intriguing her mental illness, even if it makes her incapable of being anything but what she is… she is a monster, and you will not change that.  Do you still think she deserves to be spared the trial that her victims cry out for?

It was not a question he could answer at the moment, not with the anger burning inside him.


Royal Palace
Roslyn
1 February 3143


After an unrestful sleep Trillian rose to begin the day with the usual morning routine.  Washing, dressing, breakfast, and then to get fully dressed for the day's Senate meeting.

She'd barely set down to breakfast when Lord Marienberg appeared.  He seemed partly rested and happier than she expected.  "My Lady, have you heard?"

"Heard of what?"  She tried to keep the worry from her voice.

"That awful footage from Morges has made it through the HPG network to sites on Arcadia, and on other worlds.  More news sources are picking it up."  He drew in a breath.  "It pains me to see so many of our people suffer like that, but maybe it will sway hearts and minds here."

"I hope it does, but I dare not rely on that hope.  Breakfast, Lord Marienberg?"

He nodded in acceptance and joined her.  They ate quietly, perhaps afraid of discussing any more the day's events, not wanting to hope things were changing and tempt fate.  When Trillian was done she reached for her noteputer and used it to load up a number of capital news services, particularly the Roslyn Times.  Newspapers, they were once called, I think.  She recalled some worlds on her side still had local news items and offworld news printed on paper and stacked for delivery or for purchase at local stores, especially on worlds with more limited net access and enough resources for paper production.  But most such services tended to still be digital delivery affairs.

The main article that came on the Roslyn Times' net site screamed "HORROR FROM BEYOND THE GLASS".  The image was a still of a pile of burnt bones from Morges being collected by parka-clad AFRF personnel.  The very sight threatened to make Trillian's breakfast come back, so she quickly slid the image away.

"The Chamberlain forwarded a request from High King Nathaniel this morning," Marienberg began.  "He wishes for you to bring copies of the alliance treaty you finalized to the Senate today."

To show, I assume, though maybe we will get lucky and be able to sign.

"My Lady?"  One of her aides, Gerda, was at the balcony window, along with the younger Sarah.  "Outside, in the courtyard…"

Seeing the uncertainty and surprise on their faces, Trillian went to the balcony window and pushed the door open, allowing the cool morning air to flow into her suite.

It wasn't uncommon to see crowds in the courtyard, small ones particularly, given the Palace was a functioning government building as much as it was the King's residence.  But this crowd, while not large yet, was already a mass of people ten stories below, and it was still growing.

A cheer rose up from the ground when she made it to the railing.  She could make out the handful of flags among the crowd, both the red-and-white flag of the Federation bearing the white-and-gold-winged crowned hawk and a few Lyran Commonwealth flags among them as well.  One hastily-made placard depicted a crude green bird impaled by a sword, and another, the same caught fast in an armored fist.  The cheering soon became a babble of different chants, including "Long live the Commonwealth!" and "Alliance now!"

The sight kindled the hope within her heart.  She'd occasionally had letters or messages of support, even marches and political demonstrations, but this was a spontaneous action.  The crowd's shouts and cheers continued.  "God save the Commonwealth!"  "We will fight!"

Still, it may just be those most affected by the images.  I can't be hopeful for a change in the Senate.  Still, she couldn't just remain passive at this display.  How do the likes of Daoshen do these public rallies? she wondered, settling ultimately for raising her hand and crying out, "Long live the Commonwealth!" as loud as she could manage.

She doubted many heard her, but they saw her hand, which she clenched into a fist, and the cheers renewed.

I think I am ready to face the Senate, and Zento, again, she decided, stepping away from the balcony and letting the distant roar follow her back into the suites.




Trillian arrived a half hour early, in time with High King Nathaniel, to find the Parliament much changed.  There was a new mood in the air, and the staffers and other workers saluted or bowed their heads as Trillian passed.  The vids spread yet further.

Once in the Senate she barely had time to get to the Royal Box before a number of the members approached her, offering condolences, their personal pledges of support for the war, a few even apologizing for prior opposition.  She accepted their words with thanks, noting that some came from those who voted for Zento's tirade the prior day.  Dare I hope he can be made to stand down?  After her months of politicking and arguing and debating, it seemed too much to dare, even if the vids from Morges left her even more determined to see this through and spare her people that horror.

As the time approached, she noted Zento was not yet at his desk, nor among the crowd of Senators in the chamber.  Is he running late?  Or will he make a last minute appearance to delay matters further?  She glanced towards Nathaniel, who was having something whispered in his ear by Prince Peter while his eyes were intent on the chamber.  He has seen some of the reports too, I imagine.  I should be fortunate that the ruler of this state is the most sympathetic.

At the stroke of eleven, the doors opened one last time, admitting Zento and an aide who shuffled off to the aide gallery while Zento went to his seat, holding a noteputer.  He checked something on it intently.  He intends to keep speaking.  Trillian frowned.  Even with all this, he will not relent.

Stuart's gavel sounded through the chamber.  "Order.  I call the Senate to order!" she called out.  "The clerk will now hold the roll call."

The roll call was, thankfully, all digital, and with the clerk's supporting staff only took a few minutes, though they were very long minutes.  "All Senators are in attendance, we have a quorum," Stuart announced.  "The Senate is now in session."

Zento rose.  "Then I shall, as is my right, hold the floor," he announced, his voice boosted by the chamber's acoustics and speaker systems.

A roar answered him, surprising him and Trillian in its fury.  "Sit down, damn you!"  "Enough!  Enough!"  "You have spoken enough, Zento!"  "Devil take you, sit down!"  A number of voices called out demanding he sit.  Zento's jaw locked and he defied his loudest detractors with a glare while Speaker Stuart's gavel slammed repeatedly on the sound board at her desk.  "Order!" she shouted repeatedly, until the furor died down.  "The Lord Senator held the floor at the adjournment yesterday, the floor is his until he relinquishes it or cloture is invoked."

"I will not relinquish until the Senate hears the pleas of my constituents on Summer, and across the Isle of Skye!" Zento proclaimed.  "This alliance must be stopped!"

The furor was shorter this time.  More than that, Trillian thought even Zento looked a little subdued compared to yesterday. Have the recordings from Morges perhaps stirred his soul to life a little?  Made him reconsider?

Senator Ashenafi rose from his seat.  "My Lord Senator's opinion aside, this obstruction of Senate business cannot continue.  I move for the invocation of cloture."

The fact he got the words out without an interruption from Zento made Trillian furhter wonder if the Summer firebrand was uncertain.  "I protest, I have not even started," Zento said.  "And I have new figures related to Oriento-Capellan naval constructions to provide as justification for my opposition."

"I second the motion!" Senator Bujold cried.  "Vote for cloture!"

Stuart nodded.  "The motion is carried.  The Senate will now vote to close debate on the Royal request for budgetary amendment."

The following minute was agony for Trillian.  What would be the result?  Would Zento lose any of his grip?  She needed three hundred and sixty votes to get the Senate to vote for the actual budget, and she couldn't be sure of that yet either, as some cloture votes might yet also vote against her.

The Senators quickly voted, however, and the Clerk of the Senate swiftly tabulated the results her clerks confirmed.  The holographic projection said everything.

415-185

A cheer came from some sections of the Senate until silenced by Stuart's gavel.  "Four hundred and fifteen for, one hundred and eighty-five against.  Debate is now closed.  Lord Senator Zento, please, be seated."

A huff of disappointment came from Zento, but not the fury Trillian had anticipated at being thwarted.  He slumped into his chair.  That more than anything gave her real hope; if he'd shown more energy she would fear he'd already assured himself of defeating the budget change.

"The Senate will now vote on the proposed budget alteration…"

Trillian held her hands together and prayed.  This would be the clincher.  Nathaniel's readiness to push his authority notwithstanding, the Senate supporting him would eliminate all doubt.  It would give her what she needed, desperately, to save her cousin and to save the Commonwealth.

The vote took a little longer this time, but soon, another set of results showed.

399-201

"Danke Gott," escaped her lips.  Sixteen extra opposing votes aside, this was almost a two-thirds majority, far higher than she'd hoped.  She glanced at the projected results being relayed to her noteputer, including who made which vote.  As cheers came from the Senate, and Nathaniel flashed a smile of triumph, she confirmed the way the outcome fell.  While the vote solidified further her way in Lyran space, she'd also made key gains in the Principality of Atreus and the Arcturus and Alexandria Marches, even a few swayed votes in Skye, New Earth, and New Dallas Marches.  In some points her supporters were minorities of those sections, but they were not small minorities.  No March was still overwhelmingly against the alliance she'd forged, the hope for the Commonwealth.

"The Clerk shall report to the Treasury that the Senate has approved the Royal request, and the appropriate adjustments might be made," Stuart said.  "As President and Speaker of the Senate, I now propose a vote of endorsement for the alliance treaty with the Lyran Commonwealth, to reflect this body's opinion and ensure the prompt ratification once the terms ratification is made."

Trillian was already fighting back the tears of joy.  This time the vote was even more her way, with another thirty Senators endorsing, presumably to show solidarity now that they'd lost the vote against the budget.

She noted Nathaniel lean forward in his chair and speak to Stuart.  Stuart looked back and up at him and nodded.  Her gavel struck the sound board again.  "His Majesty has a request for the attention of the Senate."

Conversation quieted.  No opposition was made, not even by Zento, though he frowned at the High King from his desk.

Nathaniel rose and, after a signal from elsewhere — presumably the sound engineer for the Senate's address system — he began speaking.  "In light of this occasion, I ask the Senate to witness the treaty signing your wisdom has made possible.  Lady Trillian, the treaty copies?"

For a brief moment Trillian, relieved as she was, forgot she had them.  She checked her things and was about to panic at their not being there when Marienberg, smiling, produced the folder from his papers.  She stood and held them up.  "Here, Your Majesty."

"Please, let us finish this now.  Your people have suffered enough at the hands of your foes.  No more time will be wasted in bringing them succor."  Nathaniel descended from the platform towards the Senate floor and the table before Stuart's place.  Seeing his intent, the Clerk and her subordinates quickly started clearing space.

A lump formed in Trillian's throat, and she felt the tears come before she could stop them.  Her soul bursting with pride at her success, she left the Royal Box with her staff and approached the table herself.  The Clerk accepted the treaty copies and laid them out, side by side.  Speaker Stuart stepped forward to join them, providing a ceremonial quilled pen to Nathaniel.  As the Senate watched, he sat in one of the open chairs and signed each copy with a steady hand.  Only now did Trillian notice Sophia was with them, wondering if perhaps the King's secretary and bride-to-be arrived late and noting Sophia brought with her a large object in a box.  Nathaniel opened it, reached within for several moments, and brought out a large brass and silver object with one side wet with dark ink.  The Royal Seal, Trillian realized, watching him press it to the side of his signatures, one after the other, leaving the crowned hawk seal of the Royal Federation on both.  "Lady Trillian?" he asked, offering her the quilled pen.

She almost dropped it.  That was the most embarrassing part, but having this moment come had her so affected she almost dropped the pen.  Demanding her hand remain steady, Trillian sat at the table beside Nathaniel and signed her name and Melissa's.  Once the second copy was signed, she handed the pen back to Stuart.

Nathaniel stood, prompting her to do the same, and bowed his head to her, prompting her to bow ever more deeply back.  "It is done," he announced.  "Joined by the hand of God Himself, the Lyran Commonwealth and the Royal Federation are now allies against the monstrous depravity of our enemies."

A cheer came from the alliance supporters in the Senate, and applause soon filled the chamber.  Trillian failed to hold back her tears.  I've done it.  We have the alliance.  I can save Melissa from Vedet, and then we can save the Commonwealth together!  After being denied so long it felt like a dam had released in her heart, filling her soul with relief and glee.  The small part of her mind reminding her the deed wasn't done, that a lot of fighting was still ahead, and time was off the essence, it couldn't hold that back.  Everything hinged on the mission that she had just seen to a triumphant conclusion.

"I have to go back now," she murmured.  Nathaniel seemed to be the only one who heard her over the roar of applause.  "I have to bring the treaty to Tharkad, free Melissa, and get the Commonwealth to rally while your troops are brought in."

"There will be other arrangements we must make first," he said to her, grinning, his voice just low enough to carry over the applause. "And there is the matter of my coronation in a week.  It would be best that our alliance start with a formal Lyran delegation, yes?"

"I…"  She considered it.  She did indeed have final matters to wrap up before departing, and it'd ensure the Glass was secured (she hoped, which was very easy to do at the moment) when the Archon's Fist arrived there.  "A week, yes, but no later.  Things must be brought to order on Tharkad.  The LCAF must be made to repudiate Vedet."

"I understand."

By now the applause were only starting to end.  "Madame Speaker!"  Ashenafi's voice rang out.  "In light of the occasion, may I suggest we adjourn?"

Before she could reply, another voice seconded, and Stuart, without her gavel, merely nodded.  "Yes, the Senate is adjourned!"

Zento and a few others left, but many, even those who'd opposed the alliance, remained.  Trillian didn't see who, but a voice rose from among the Senate, quickly joined by others recognizing the words of a song she now recognized from the historical records she'd reviewed, of the old hymn Sara Proctor introduced to her Liberation Army and known, to these people, as "The Liberator's Hymn."

Mine eyes have seen the glory of the coming of the Lord
He is trampling out the vintage where the grapes of wrath are stored
He hath loosed the fateful lightning of His terrible, swift sword
His truth is marching on!

Glory, Glory, Hallelujah!
Glory, Glory, Hallelujah!
Glory, Glory, Hallelujah!
His truth is marching on!

By the end of the chorus Nathaniel was joining in, as were Sophia and Stuart, and Trillian, to her own surprise, found her voice joining the next verse.

I have seen Him in the watchfires of a hundred circling camps
They have builded Him an altar in the evening dews and damps
I can read His righteous sentence by the dim and flaring lamps
His day is marching on!

Glory, Glory, Hallelujah…!

[mikecj]

Powerful imagery.

[Steve]

Thank you.  Also, may I say I love your sig's use of Ivanova's "planted story" in "Rumors, Bargains, and Lies". 8)

Also, a friend revealed to me today that there's a German language version of the Battle Hymn.  The words/translation aren't the same, but the German does fit the music and the meaning still works very well.


https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=a6mQyUVth8I