Opalescent Reflections
Full House
Chapter 1
Hilton Head, North America
Terra, Sol System
14 June 3056It was an inconvenient time for the usual council chamber to be undergoing maintenance, workers opening up the floor to update and make good the holographic projectors built into it. No official summons had been sent out, but recent events had drawn the senior precentors as if by magnetism and they had all arranged to attend this meeting of the First Circuit in person. The official membership sat around a U-shaped conference table in one of the less formal meeting halls. Department heads had also gathered and were seated along one wall.
Brushing back her long hair, Wei took her place at the podium. “Few people have doubted, since the sudden return of Kerensky’s descendants, that we live in momentous times,” she began.
Tiger Lily leant forwards from her own seat. “Rumour has it,” she interrupted, “That the Star League is being reformed.”
I was getting to that, Wei thought - irritated at the leader of the Terra-centric faction within the First Circuit. “Some would say it never went away,” she riposted, “Particularly those vying to be its ruler.” Something her predecessors were hardly innocent of, even if they had been more discreet in the matter than the five competing claims of the Successor Lords and their dynasties.
But it was clear the idea had traction among the First Circuit and she understood. The Star League had been a golden age for humanity, even if that meant as much glitter and weight as it did wealth and prosperity.
“The Star League Council has been reconvened,” Wei continued, “And membership - full membership - extended to the leaders attending it at Unity City - including those whose ancestors once held only territorial status among them. That is a long way from establishing it as a single government over the Inner Sphere, but there is at least agreement that any counter-offensive against the Clans will be under the banner of the Star League.”
“That will send some of them berserk,” warned Andrew Norris from his own seat across the U from Tiger Lily. He and other more militant precentors were sitting together, as near to Precentor Martial Anastasius Focht as they could given the one-eyed leader of the ComGuards was seated with the other department heads not at the table. “They make their own claim to be rightful heirs of the Star League.”
“I think if they volunteered to serve as the SLDF they might be accepted,” she said drily. “But that isn’t what you mean, is it?”
Norris shook his head in amusement. “Not even more moderate Clans,” he answered and glanced over at Precentor Tamar, who had been promoted to the First Circuit as the Precentor-Advocate dealing with interactions with Clan Wolf.
“I think it would be a hard sell for the Kerensky Khans,” the woman answered. “And I shudder to think how the Smoke Jaguars would respond.”
“Violently, Cordelia.” Precentor Alshain had been selected from the ComGuards on the basis that whoever spoke for ComStar’s interests in the Smoke Jaguar Occupation Zone would need to be unshaken by physical violence around them. Fortunately, none had been directed at him yet.
“Obviously,” Tiger Lily snapped. “How else do they respond to anything?”
She wasn’t wrong and Wei tipped her head to the older woman. “Absent that unlikely event, there will be no SLDF and there may not be a single military leader. The Council is debating an overall strategy and multinational task forces are to be formed to represent unity by the states of the Inner Sphere, but the current thinking is that each task force’s commander will answer to the Council and not to any commanding general.”
“Forgive me my poor grasp on military matters,” Joe Buckley interjected, “But my understanding is that unity of command is generally a good idea?” He glanced in the direction of the Precentor-Martial, who might have been a strong candidate: ComStar’s official position of neutrality and Focht’s victory over the Clans on Camlann would give him considerable credibility.
“Precentor New Avalon is correct,” Focht agreed. “However, that would be a political post… and ComStar’s participation is not a given.”
“But how can we stand aside from this?!” called out Shaffi, the Precentor of the Draconis Combine’s new capital on Irurzun. “We are the last remains of the Star League’s government! And the Clans are the enemies of all mankind!”
Including each other, Wei thought absently. It was such a lovely day, she’d have been tempted to meet outside but the humid heat might have been too much for older precentors in the heavy robes demanded by protocol. She didn’t want to have this conversation at all, why had she even fought to be formally elected in the first place?
“Our official policy has been neutrality,” she answered Shaffi, feeling a pang at the hypocrisy of the words when that neutrality had been bent by every Primus including herself. “And the decision would affect more than just the ComGuards, or those of us in this room. Going to war with the Clans means hundreds of our HPG stations will be behind enemy lines, many of them the center of large and heavily populated enclaves. Many will fall into the hands of the Clans, and since it is not believed that an offensive can drive the Clans entirely from the Inner Sphere at this time, we will be losing many of them for years or decades at the best.”
She leant slightly on the podium, feeling weighed down by the lives that were her responsibility. “What part ComStar plays in the next stage of the war is not an easy or simple decision. Nor is it one for me to make lightly or without your voices being heard. Whatever we decide, there will be costs.”
Norris nodded grimly. “But at the same time, Primus, we cannot allow those enclaves to be effective hostages.”
Tiger Lily steepled her hands before her. “I think it better that we fight the Clans as part of the Star League than stand aside from it. The alternative is irrelevance and we cannot afford that.”
“We have the largest fleet of warships in the Inner Sphere,” Buckley pointed out, though his tone suggested he was playing devil’s advocate rather than disagreeing. “Not to mention Terra.”
“We may not have the largest fleet for long,” Joe Murphy observed from his seat next to Norris. The two precentors had been raised to the First Circuit at the same time and struck up a friendship as well as a political alliance. “The Federated Commonwealth’s construction plans are impressive.”
“So I have warned,” Buckley agreed smugly.
Wei narrowed her eyes in anger at the man. She had opposed expanding the number of active warships back before the Clans had become a factor, and it seemed that the precentor was intent on reminding everyone rather than focusing on the issue at hand. “If we are to participate then disclosure of our military assets will be required,” she reminded him sharply.
That sunk in with many of those present. Officially ComStar had not shown the extent of even their active fleet, much less the dozens of mothballed vessels that might be brought back into service given time. And the habit of secrecy was well-entrenched.
“We have a difficult decision in front of us,” she admitted. “To remain neutral is still an option, but one that could leave us at the mercy of the victors. Or…” and she drew the word out, “We can take a stand. Does anyone here believe that we should side with the Clans?”
Even after Camlann, there might have been someone willing to consider that idea. There were more than twenty members of the First Circuit and someone might have been that out of touch with reality. But the Successor Lords had gathered in Unity City, and even those who had not met with them or their officials had been surrounded by Adepts and Acolytes whispering excitedly about the Star League.
“If we side with the Star League Council,” Tiger Lily asked, filling the silence that met Wei’s question, “What happens to ComStar? We are not in the same position as the Great Houses.”
Wei took a deep breath. “I do not know. We will have to decide that as well.”
She spread her hands, feeling the sleeves of her robe slip back from her wrists and expose more than half her forearms. “I open the matter to debate.”
Yamashiro, New Samarkand
Diamond Shark Dominion
5 July 3056There was a certain oddity to seeing battlemechs wrapped in what amounted to industrial-scale cardboard boxes, it was certainly something that Ace had never thought to see when he was a boy. However, the ‘mechs had been shipped from the homeworlds on a freighter, not a military transport. They needed the packaging to secure the massive war machines inside the holds without the framework of a ‘mech bay. While it would have been satisfying to have his mechwarriors march them off the dropship, instead the ‘mechs had been unloaded into a warehouse and they still weren’t fully unpacked.
Even so, as Ace led a party of mechwarriors inside, he felt the familiar thrill of seeing the giant warmachines emerging from the packaging - like giant predators breaking free of their eggs. There were twenty of them, humanoid in form with sleek curves that weren’t entirely in line with the more familiar omnimechs or the Diamond Sharks’ aesthetics for their own designs.
“What are these?” Mechwarrior Sasha asked as he followed Ace into the warehouse, staring up at the towering battlemechs. His voice was lowered in reverence but also betrayed confusion.
“Battlemechs,” another young warrior answered, his own words sounding disenchanted. “Are we being punished, sir?”
Ace chuckled, darkly amused - but not surprised - by the question. “Neg. These are some of our newest ‘mechs, product of our… strategic alliance with Clan Steel Viper.” It still felt bizarre to work with the Clan of Brett Andrews, his old enemy. Then again, had Andrews been any worse than Ian Hawker? And Michel had been a Steel Viper once. For a moment, his mind went to the long journey Michel was on. Back to the homeworlds, in pursuit of a bloodname. Facing enemies there.
But he had a duty to the mechwarriors with him, who would hopefully rise to the same status as Michel within the Diamond Shark’s ranks and so Ace shook his head and drew his focus back to the here and now.
“Sir, this is a frontline galaxy… are we being dismissed from the Ivory Skate?” Thomas sounded horrified.
“I don’t understand,” Sasha said slowly. “Do not understand,” he corrected himself at a reproving look from his companion. Unlike Thomas, he was the product of an Inner Sphere sibko.
“I believe that the Galaxy Commander is about to explain,” another voice spoke up. Mechwarrior Shiro was the oldest of the twenty mechwarriors Ace had brought here, his hair white with age. It didn’t slow his sword or his skills in the cockpit though. “...quiaff?”
“Aff.” Ace turned his back on the ‘mechs to face his warriors. “We do not have enough Omnimechs for all our forces.” The shipment had always been intended to include the battlemechs, but as originally called for there would have been ten omnimechs as well. Other units, closer to the homeworlds than Epsilon Galaxy, had requisitioned them to make good losses from raids and rebellions. One here, one there and suddenly he was only receiving two-thirds of the shipment. At least he’d had some warning or he’d have looked a fool before his warriors.
“No Clan does, sir.”
He nodded at Thomas’ point. “Yes, but we have the largest second-line forces and they’re stretched thin backing up our garrisons. If we pull their omnimechs then they may not be able to do that.” Truthfully they couldn’t - detachments from the frontline forces were already needed to fill the gaps. “Ideally, we would build more omnimechs and that is the plan, but it takes time. As a result, the frontline galaxies will have to accept a proportion of battlemechs until production catches up.”
Sasha nodded in understanding. “I believe Thomas is asking if we are being singled out?” he asked, looking at the clanborn warrior.
“In a sense,” Ace admitted and saw their faces twist in alarm. “Not as you think,” he clarified hastily, raising one open hand to dismiss the fear. “More specifically, you have been hand-picked to join command stars. Myself and all three Star Colonels will have battlemechs assigned to our immediate commands. We picked those who will be fighting alongside us from the best and most promising of those joining Epsilon Galaxy.”
He used the upraised hand to indicate the ‘mechs around them. “Vapor Eagle mediums and Phoenix Hawk assault ‘mechs. Battlemechs, but the newest and most advanced production models of proven designs.”
“I piloted a Phoenix Hawk for the Dragon,” Shiro said softly, looking up at the towering mass of one of the assault ‘mechs. “But it was nothing like that.”
“New Samarkand is producing retooled Pixies that are much more like your old ‘mech, Shiro.” Ace gave him a wry look. “If you would rather have one of those...”
The old mechwarrior laughed grimly. “I have seen their teething problems, Galaxy Commander. With respect… no.”
There were chuckles. The Pixie rebuilds had exhibited some spectacular problems with the ammunition feeds for their machine guns until Ace had had enough of promises from the factory and ordered them to pull the weapons entirely and fit pulse lasers instead. It would be a while before that reputation was lived down.
More importantly, Shiro had broken the mood. Sasha took advantage of the informality to ask: “Will you be taking one of these, sir?” He indicated one of the Vapor Eagles.
“I was tempted,” Ace admitted and gave them a depreciating shrug. “But they have not quite managed to fit a pair of PPCs to one so I will struggle on with my Huntsman for now. Perhaps in the future.”
He didn’t dislike the Huntsman, but privately he thought the Stormcrow he’d used before had been a bit better. Alas, the Huntsman was both a gift and a Diamond Shark design. It would be a minor hit politically for him to requisition another Stormcrow without good reason, such as the Huntsman taking too much damage. And setting aside the risks of incurring that much damage, it would be a poor example to waste an omnimech when they were in short supply.
Most of the mechwarriors began to fan out, studying the ‘mechs and evidently weighing up whether to claim a Phoenix Hawk or a Vapor Eagle for themselves. A few still hesitant, with the almost unfairly handsome Thomas the most obvious - as he usually was.
For a moment, Ace wondered how to spur them on past their doubts. “Production of the Mongrel will be starting here in the next few years,” he told them before they could sense his uncertainty. “I assure you, frontline units will get first call on them once they start leaving the factory.”
Thomas shrugged. “That does not speak well for their quality, given the problems with the Pixie.”
“Between you and me,” Ace lowered his voice confidingly, “There were sabotage issues with the Pixie. The Watch allowed it because it let us seek out which of the workers there were security risks before the Mongrel lines were set up. We were testing the worker’s loyalties as much as we were their ability to manufacture our battlemechs. The workforce on the omnimech lines will be made up of those who passed this security test.”
The explanation offered enough reassurance that the other three mechwarriors left the little cluster. Only Thomas was left facing Ace, though the set of his shoulders had loosened. “May I ask another question? On another matter?”
Am I really so intimidating that he feels he needs permission? “I am not offended by questions, mechwarrior. Only by those who do not accept answers that are not to their liking.”
“There has been no news about the motion to return to the Clan’s former name, quiaff?”
Ace took a moment to parse the question before answering. “Officially, the matter has not been confirmed but at this point it will be put to the vote and the precedent makes it clear that the entire Clan will vote. The question of what constitutes the entire Clan is delaying the matter.”
Thomas frowned in thought. “Do you believe you will have your way and all the occupied worlds will vote? Most of them barely know what it is to be a Diamond Shark, much less a Sea Fox.”
“It is not entirely clear to most of us what distinction will be,” he replied, speaking crisply and hoping that Thomas took that for more confidence than Ace actually felt. “It is more than a name. I think that in the end the Clan Council will see it my way. If nothing else, it will take more than a year to make the arrangements for a vote on that scale, which is time for everyone to get their points of view out and form a coherent plan for what the result of each outcome will be.”
“So we may have omnimechs first,” Thomas observed wryly.
“Logistics and communication matter as much in politics as they do in warfare,” Ace told him, turning to look at the partially unwrapped battlemechs. We will need these ‘mechs. More than that, we need more time!
He had no facts to back that up, but every instinct screamed that the Diamond Sharks would be attacked before long. Being the largest and most powerful Clan made them the obvious target for everyone above and below the truceline. It was the way of the Clans and his time in the Inner Sphere was leading Ace to suspect that it was more of a general human condition than something specific to Clan culture.
I’ve survived everything so far, he thought. But even when my own Khan was trying to kill me… I could always see the threat. A shiver went through Ace. Now I see nothing but threats! How can we get through this?!
Fort Viking, Cadiz
Benjamin Military District, Draconis Combine
24 July 3056The aerospace fighter that carved its way through the skies above Cadiz was nothing like Tyra Miraborg’s previous rides.
The Xerxes she’d used to escape Clan Smoke Jaguar had been a heavy brute, with most of its tonnage devoted to forward firepower. The young kapten was still amazed she’d managed to make it over the border and into ComStar territory before more agile aerospace fighters had brought her down.
It was odd to think that Clan technology had allowed the heavy bird a similar performance envelope to the Shilone she’d flown previously, although that had been a matter of brute force rather than the finesse of the long flying wing of her old bird. The Shilone didn’t lack firepower or armor by any sensible standards… but it was a Succession Wars design that had been left behind as lostech was recovered and the pressures of war forced its adoption.
At first Tyra had believed that her new fighter was a Corsair - a more than respectable fighter, if one that was fairly uncommon in Rasalhague service - and that was where its roots lay but as the technicians walked her through the ground checks to familiarize herself with it, she’d learned that it was something else under the skin.
A look at the clock told her before ground control could that her practise flight was coming to an end and the blonde pulled an immelman turn to bring the dart-like fighter’s nose around towards the military base that served as the rear-area base for what remained of the Kungsarme.
Then she opened the throttle and felt herself shoved backwards into her seat. A Corsair would have been around the same thrust to mass ratio as a Shilone or Xerxes, but the ‘Cor-Star’ as this upgrade was called, was at least thirty percent more powerful. She’d known the ComGuards’ discards that had ‘somehow’ wound up in Kungsarme service on Camlann were better than her Shilone but she’d not been around for the after-action reports to clarify that.
The weapons and armor were also better than she was used to. Not, as she had been warned, equal in every respect to their Clan counterparts… but close enough to shave away at their usual advantages.
And most importantly, the Cor-Star was hers. Not property of the Kungsarme or of any other service (she had feared all for years that the Kungsarme might have vanished along with the Free Rasalhague Republic only to find it still fighting on from exile), but a direct gift from ComStar’s Primus.
The older woman had looked saddened by the request for a fighter, but she’d already asked what Tyra wanted as a reward for bringing back the data on the Clan homeworlds and it was too late to take back. Not that she’d tried - the Cor-Star had been requisitioned the same day for delivery to Tyra - but Wei Rong’s eyes had reminded the pilot of her father’s.
Although… when had she seen Tor Miraborg look so melancholy? It must have been years ago, she thought. Before the mask of the ‘Iron Jarl’ became the norm.
The sight of the airfield coming into view was enough excuse for Tyra to set aside thoughts of her father, lost behind the curtain of the truceline… lost as well by his surrender without battle… and his choice to become a collaborator.
Forcing the matter from her mind, Tyra contacted ground control for instructions and then lowered the landing gear. While the CorStar could, like most aerospace fighters, manage a vertical takeoff or landing on its maneuvering thrusters that wasn’t really recommended unless necessary. Instead she was directed towards one of the runways and eased off on the throttle as she lined up and began to shed altitude cautiously, avoiding a dive that would have built up even more velocity.
Adjusting the flaps, she wasn’t far off stalling speed when she crossed the end of the runway and she cut the fusion thruster as soon as she felt the landing gear kiss the ferrocrete, switching power to the retrothrusters to bring the fighter’s speed down towards zero.
Ten minutes later, most of which she spent waiting for ground control to confirm taxiways were clear for her to use without smashing a supply truck or something into the grass with the blast of her maneuvering thrusters, Tyra was close enough to a hangar for a wagon to trundle out and take over towing the Cor-Star into the hangars.
There was a staff car waiting inside the hangar, off to the side where an armament truck would usually be parked if external loads were being fitted (or if Tyra had been flying something that carried munitions) - far enough that it wouldn’t be in danger of accidents if a scramble order had her leave the hangar under power.
Opening the cockpit before the Cor-Star had come fully to a halt, something prohibited by a regulation that no one actually followed in Tyra’s experience, she looked out and saw a familiar face waiting by the car. Tyra waved to him and then started removing her helmet.
Once the aerospace fighter was locked own and she’d exited the small cockpit with some help, Tyra walked towards the car. Christian Mansdottir came to meet her and ignored her attempt to salute, instead hugging her. “It’s good to see you, Tyra.”
She laughed. “You saw me on Terra, sir.”
“That was surreal enough. The shock that you’re alive still hasn’t worn off,” the man told her before releasing her from the embrace. He looked at her searchingly and as Tyra returned the examination she was reminded once again of the gray hairs that had conquered his mustache and were working towards the same domination of his scalp. She wasn’t the only one who had had a difficult five years since Camlann.
“You’re not here to socialize, are you?” she asked after a moment.
He shook his head in mute confession, visibly regret in his eyes. “I wish I had that luxury, Tyra.”
“Duty first.”
“Don’t let that take over your life,” Mansdottir told her. “Learn from my mistakes.”
“It’s never too late for you to find a good woman and settle down,” she offered. “I’m sure I can find someone for you.”
“I do not need you matchmaking for me, Tyra. Not that I would be much of a catch.” He shook one finger in reproval, a hint of amusement banishing the earlier sorrow.
Tyra stiffened suddenly as she realized where she had seen eyes like that before. She had been thinking of him, not her father when she compared the look to that on Wei Rong’s face.
Had she been away from Gunzburg so long she couldn’t remember her own father accurately?
Mansdottir caught her arm. “Tyra?”
“Just… a thought.”
“You’ve been flying,” he allowed. “Let’s get you something to eat and drink.”
“I’m fine,” she declined. “I’ll grab something later, but I need to get back in shape.”
“Part of that is eating enough,” she was warned. “Alright, if you want to be focused, I’m here to talk about your assignment.”
“I know I’m rusty to be in charge of a squadron.”
“We have time for you to work up.” Mansdottir waved that off. “You’re an experienced kapten, I’d be a fool to waste you with less than that. Honestly, if you’d not been captured I’m sure you’d have a wing by now. The question is where you want to be assigned.”
“I’m a Flying Drakon,” Tyra answered. She’d been with the Gunzburg Eagles first, of course, but there was no way she could claim to be part of that regiment while they were serving as a Clan Wolf garrison force. Nor would she want to!
He nodded. “And the Drakons have been acting as the aerospace wing of the 1st Tyr.” He didn’t mention that the Flying Drakons had once been a regiment that sported six entire wings, they both knew that. “But you may not have heard -”
“I know.”
That got a pause. “Let’s not assume we’re talking about the same thing. They’re providing a cadre to build up a separate aerowing for the 1st Tyr. There’s room there for you to build a new squadron. I’d love to have your experience there.”
Tyra smiled sadly. “Uncle Christian, I know what the Drakons will be doing.”
“That’s classified.”
“I know people.”
“Of course you do.” He sighed heavily and then, in a low voice: “Are you sure you want to go back to the Clan Homeworlds? If you’re here, you’ll be fighting to liberate our worlds.”
“That’s not certain,” Tyra told him, remembering the discussions on Terra. “I hope it happens, but we can’t count on that. The homeworlds mission is where I can contribute most. I’m the only officer who’s been there. If we’re hitting Huntress, my knowledge of it is our single best intelligence asset.”
“It could be a one way mission. There are entire Clans that we haven’t encountered yet, with their own fleets and armies. If those go at you…”
“That isn’t all that likely. I’ve been there, I’ve lived among the Clans and they’re not even as fond of each other as the Great Houses are.” Tyra threw her hands up. “It’s like seventeen House Kuritas all crammed together. None of them like or trust each other.”
Mandottir leant against his car. “And yet the Kuritas are working with the other Great Houses. It’s a surprise but it is happening.”
“It said it wasn’t all that likely, not that it was impossible.” She met his eyes. “It’s where I can do the most good.”
“Some would say you’ve done enough already.” Then he shrugged. “But I know you better. Still, if our people are to be free I need teachers and leaders for our next generation. You’re one of our best. Breaking off the Flying Drakons is the first step in trying to build us up past a single brigade of troops and I honestly think you’ll do us more good there.”
Tyra felt her face tighten. “Is that an order, sir?”
Mansdottir’s face fell and she felt a stab of guilt. “The government-in-exile is near enough unanimous that you should have whatever post you want. I could fight it, but disunity like that…”
“You don’t need to protect me. I can handle the Clans.”
“But can you handle yourself? Tyra, the first time your father was badly hurt I asked him to step back… like now. Instead he pressed on, and wound up in a wheelchair. He said I’d just been trying to protect him.” He looked away. “There was, and there is, some truth to that. But if he hadn’t been crippled, how much more could he have done with his life?”
Tyra reached out, hesitated and then put one hand on his shoulder. “I’m sorry. I know you mean well - personally and professionally. But it’s not like that. The Clans won’t stop unless we can show them we can hit them back, at home. If we free our worlds, what does it matter if they just come back a year later? This mission matters and with my experience, I really am in a unique position to make a difference.”
The general looked back at her and reached up to cover her hand with his own. “Alright Tyra. But promise me you’ll come back. You’ve more to offer to the future than just one mission.”
