The End of the Beginning
January 5th, 3057
Situation Room of the Fox’s Den
New Avalon
Federated Commonwealth
Katherine Morgan Steiner-Davion looked on with interest as the briefer, a nervous young Hauptmann, briefed the very experienced (and very high-ranking) personages on the progress of both the Marik-Liao offensive. He was using a clear, meter long pointer to call attention to various battlegrounds throughout the Sarna March on a flat representation of a holomap. Volunteers my ass, that is a useful little fig leaf, Corrine. I am going to remember that when the time comes for me to settle accounts.
“..we expect that Clover Spear will jump off on its third and final wave on or about the 10th of January, and orders have been cut to send back several RCTs already. Among them are the 7th Crucis Lancers, the Assault Guards, Hansen’s Roughriders, and the Grey Death Legion. The plan is they will form the nucleus of the force that will form one of the prongs of ACTIVE PANTHER.”
Katherine’s ears perked up. “ACTIVE PANTHER? Jackson, you have not mentioned this in previous briefings. I don’t like being kept in the dark.”
“My apologies your highness, I don’t like presenting plans before they are ready.” Jackson Davion rose and walked over to the young Hauptmann and whispered something in his ear that made him turn white. He then took the pointer and the Hauptmann left in an unseemly hurry. His next meeting with Marshal Davion will not be a pleasant one.
“My apologies your Highness, no obfuscation was intended. We have a rule here at the Den, “no operations plan before its time, and to be honest, Active Panther is a bit rough.”
“Who instituted that rule? It seems a bit easy to abuse?” Katherine inquired, some of her earlier ire satiated, but a warning tone still present in her voice.
“Your father, Your highness.”
Katherine gasped in embarrassment. “Oh, well, knowing Daddy, he had a damn good reason for it. Ok, well the cat is well and truly out of the bag, so tell me of Active Panther? And how rough is this plan?”
“Extremely. Your highness, all we have really is a rough concept of operations, and it will depend on the cooperation of foreign powers.”
“St. Ives?” Katherine inquired.
“Exactly and considering the last time this was presented to the SIMC General Staff back in 3045, Candace Liao herself balked at this, it’s one of the reasons we are less than confident about it.”
“I suspect times have changed, Jackson. Now, tell me, what is the basics of the plan?”
“It’s brutally simple really. We pin down Capellan forces in the Sarna March with a drive towards Capella, or in in this case, Sarna. We know they’ll fight hard for it because a) they’ll have to, and b) they have already committed the lion’s share of their reserve to reinforce their efforts on digging in on the worlds they have already taken. Then, we launch two more prongs. One is through the Zilang salient, designed to cut the Confederation in two, and take Grand Base and Menke, crippling the remainder of Capellan war production. The third prong? Direct from St. Ives, right for Sian.”
“So, other than the usual reluctance by St. Ives to get involved in the Capellan mud pit, why did St. Ives balk?”
“Our casualty projections for Sian alone…Percy, pull up slide four.”
Katherine’s face turned white at the numbers “250,000 dead? On our side? Holy Christ!”
“And that’s a lot to ask either of our nations, especially one as small as St. Ives. Thus, we’ve been trying to refine the plan a bit before we presented it to you.”
“Sweet Jesus. Clover Spear’s been a relative cakewalk thus far, we lose 250,000 just for Sian alone, that’s going to have angry crowds in front of the palace calling for all our heads, and rightfully so. I understand your problem, Jackson. If I may ask, what factors are contributing to such high numbers?”
“We expect near fanatical resistance from all the Capellan defenders, and more than a few civilians, as well as the Capellan to utilize every special weapon they have. Not to mention, there could be unknown factors in play as well.”
“Like what?”
“Like the fact that as of last week, we have lost track of both Blakist divisions on the Capellan front. We don’t know where the hell they are. And to be honest, that worries me.” Jackson stroked his beard for emphasis.
“I don’t know a person in this room who isn’t concerned by that, Jackson. Quintus, any ideas?”
“We’re running down every lead we have, your Highness, but it’s not easy with the Blakists.”
Katherine nodded. “Alright, I am giving a tentative go to ACTIVE PANTHER. But I want those Blakist divisions found and found fast. I promised vengeance. And considering a favorite author of mine once said ‘Vengeance is like Ice Cream’? Well, call me the Good Humor lady. Only, I am not laughing. Thank you, ladies and gentlemen. Today’s briefing has put a smile on my face, first in a while I must say. I must go visit my brother…”
***********************************
January 5th, 3057
Secure Wing
New Avalon General Hospital
New Avalon, Crucis March
“I am sorry, Victor-san. Your life has been ripped from you, in a way..so cruel.” Omi stated, her sorrow for her beloved’s fresh news.
“Omi, as my father used to say. ‘Shit Happens’. I wish it wasn’t this in particular. The arm, I could have dealt with…but this? To know a part of my life is over, just like that…that is the part that is particularly painful. Wasn’t enough those bastards took my parents, and 6000 of my other subjects, but now, my career as a ‘Mechwarrior? I guess the hits really do keep on coming?” Victor’s attempt at a one-armed shrug was still not what he would have liked, but he did what he could, what with the bandages around his stump, and the sling.
Victor had had a busy schedule, physical therapy, consultations with doctors, and visits by all sorts of personages. Katherine had told him about their parents, with Omi present. Victor had never been much on tears, but he sobbed like a baby when he’d heard the news. He’d wanted to get back into the cockpit as soon as he could, leading his nation from the front, like a good ruler should, but then came the next blow:
Victor would never pilot a Battlemech again.
It had happened during a routine “skullcap” test where he was like any recruit being considered for battlemech training, asked to make a 1/72nd Battlemech move via a crude nerohelmet. He’d given himself a tonic-clonic seizure instead. An MRI and and EEG later, the results confirmed it. The head injury had caused a form of epilepsy, and the strain of piloting a ‘Mech could potentially kill him. Even with all the strides in neuroscience that had occurred because of neurohelmets, and other Battlemech-related technologies, epilepsy was still a scourge, and was not able to be treated except through medication, diet, and rest.
“They have done all they can, love. Riva Allard herself consulted on this, and if she says we must live with it, then that’s it. Hey, I may be named after my Uncle Ian, but, maybe this is the universe’s way of saying it’s time for me to grow up and hang up the damn spurs.”
Omi nodded “My love, if you can endure, then so can I, at least we know other parts work.” Omi’s smile turned a bit playful at the last remark.
Victor shook his head. “You are going to attack me when they let me out of the body and fender shop, aren’t you?”
Omi nodded, this time, her grin was in full flower.
“If your family saw you?”
“They would approve and wish you strength and for us to produce many grandchildren..especially my grandfather.” Omi stated, her brows furrowing and her smile turning into a smirk as she leaned over and kissed Victor.
“I will admit, you being here has made this all a hell of a lot easier to bear.”Victor said, his hands cupping Omi’s face.
Omi whispered “We are each other’s keeper..in mind, heart, body, and soul. And we will always be so.”
*********************
Ryan Steiner’s Private Drawing Room
Ducal Palace
Summer, Isle of Skye
January 9th, 3057
“BASTARDS!” Ryan Steiner was fuming. First, the indignity of the vaunted AFFC not hunting down and destroying the clanner bastards who had raided his worlds, the fact that they are mine by marriage is only a small detail. And now, this. The AFFC had no intention, according to a man of his on Nondi’s staff, of driving onward to retake worlds from the damn Wolves!
He threw his tumbler full of MaCallan 15 year into the fireplace, and the glass broke with a loud shatter as the contents were consumed by the flames.
“Surely we cannot convince one good son of Skye to do something about this?”
“I am sorry my liege, but our man on Nondi’s staff confirms it. There is to be no war with the Wolves. Tamar is to be left-“ Hauptmann General Harrison Von Frisch, commanding general of the 4th Skye Rangers RCT, and nominal head of the Skye Rangers, was Ryan Steiner's man, body and soul. The weasel tone in his voice was all but proving it, much to Frisch's chagrin.
“Tamar is to be left nowhere, but to us! Harrison, tell me, how many mercenary units do we have on retainer?”
“Four regiments, my liege, the Dragonslayers, whom have enough reasons to hate this faux ‘Commonwealth.’ Eriksson's Einherjar, of whom our money has rebuilt to a full regiment over the last four years, and the Crater Cobras, whom recently left Marik service, and would love a chance to make a splash like this.”
“Good Harrison, good, plus our own regiments? Yes?” Ryan Steiner stroked his chin, conspiratorially.
“Yes, my liege. Give us four months, and we could drop on Tamar with a decent chance of taking the place.” Harrison stated, a bit of pride leaking into his voice when the subject of "his" troops came up.
Ryan Steiner smiled cruelly. “This is good. We shall present the Commonwealth with a fait accompli. Either they reinforce our regiments, and show whom the real Steiners are? Or, they let us die, and risk another rebellion back home as well as in Tamar. This has much potential, Harrision. Send the messages and get the ball rolling. I think it is time we gave the Wolves their eviction notice.”
Harrison nodded, and inexpiably, the night grew just a bit colder indeed.
Situation Room of the Fox’s Den
New Avalon
Federated Commonwealth
Katherine Morgan Steiner-Davion looked on with interest as the briefer, a nervous young Hauptmann, briefed the very experienced (and very high-ranking) personages on the progress of both the Marik-Liao offensive. He was using a clear, meter long pointer to call attention to various battlegrounds throughout the Sarna March on a flat representation of a holomap. Volunteers my ass, that is a useful little fig leaf, Corrine. I am going to remember that when the time comes for me to settle accounts.
“..we expect that Clover Spear will jump off on its third and final wave on or about the 10th of January, and orders have been cut to send back several RCTs already. Among them are the 7th Crucis Lancers, the Assault Guards, Hansen’s Roughriders, and the Grey Death Legion. The plan is they will form the nucleus of the force that will form one of the prongs of ACTIVE PANTHER.”
Katherine’s ears perked up. “ACTIVE PANTHER? Jackson, you have not mentioned this in previous briefings. I don’t like being kept in the dark.”
“My apologies your highness, I don’t like presenting plans before they are ready.” Jackson Davion rose and walked over to the young Hauptmann and whispered something in his ear that made him turn white. He then took the pointer and the Hauptmann left in an unseemly hurry. His next meeting with Marshal Davion will not be a pleasant one.
“My apologies your Highness, no obfuscation was intended. We have a rule here at the Den, “no operations plan before its time, and to be honest, Active Panther is a bit rough.”
“Who instituted that rule? It seems a bit easy to abuse?” Katherine inquired, some of her earlier ire satiated, but a warning tone still present in her voice.
“Your father, Your highness.”
Katherine gasped in embarrassment. “Oh, well, knowing Daddy, he had a damn good reason for it. Ok, well the cat is well and truly out of the bag, so tell me of Active Panther? And how rough is this plan?”
“Extremely. Your highness, all we have really is a rough concept of operations, and it will depend on the cooperation of foreign powers.”
“St. Ives?” Katherine inquired.
“Exactly and considering the last time this was presented to the SIMC General Staff back in 3045, Candace Liao herself balked at this, it’s one of the reasons we are less than confident about it.”
“I suspect times have changed, Jackson. Now, tell me, what is the basics of the plan?”
“It’s brutally simple really. We pin down Capellan forces in the Sarna March with a drive towards Capella, or in in this case, Sarna. We know they’ll fight hard for it because a) they’ll have to, and b) they have already committed the lion’s share of their reserve to reinforce their efforts on digging in on the worlds they have already taken. Then, we launch two more prongs. One is through the Zilang salient, designed to cut the Confederation in two, and take Grand Base and Menke, crippling the remainder of Capellan war production. The third prong? Direct from St. Ives, right for Sian.”
“So, other than the usual reluctance by St. Ives to get involved in the Capellan mud pit, why did St. Ives balk?”
“Our casualty projections for Sian alone…Percy, pull up slide four.”
Katherine’s face turned white at the numbers “250,000 dead? On our side? Holy Christ!”
“And that’s a lot to ask either of our nations, especially one as small as St. Ives. Thus, we’ve been trying to refine the plan a bit before we presented it to you.”
“Sweet Jesus. Clover Spear’s been a relative cakewalk thus far, we lose 250,000 just for Sian alone, that’s going to have angry crowds in front of the palace calling for all our heads, and rightfully so. I understand your problem, Jackson. If I may ask, what factors are contributing to such high numbers?”
“We expect near fanatical resistance from all the Capellan defenders, and more than a few civilians, as well as the Capellan to utilize every special weapon they have. Not to mention, there could be unknown factors in play as well.”
“Like what?”
“Like the fact that as of last week, we have lost track of both Blakist divisions on the Capellan front. We don’t know where the hell they are. And to be honest, that worries me.” Jackson stroked his beard for emphasis.
“I don’t know a person in this room who isn’t concerned by that, Jackson. Quintus, any ideas?”
“We’re running down every lead we have, your Highness, but it’s not easy with the Blakists.”
Katherine nodded. “Alright, I am giving a tentative go to ACTIVE PANTHER. But I want those Blakist divisions found and found fast. I promised vengeance. And considering a favorite author of mine once said ‘Vengeance is like Ice Cream’? Well, call me the Good Humor lady. Only, I am not laughing. Thank you, ladies and gentlemen. Today’s briefing has put a smile on my face, first in a while I must say. I must go visit my brother…”
***********************************
January 5th, 3057
Secure Wing
New Avalon General Hospital
New Avalon, Crucis March
“I am sorry, Victor-san. Your life has been ripped from you, in a way..so cruel.” Omi stated, her sorrow for her beloved’s fresh news.
“Omi, as my father used to say. ‘Shit Happens’. I wish it wasn’t this in particular. The arm, I could have dealt with…but this? To know a part of my life is over, just like that…that is the part that is particularly painful. Wasn’t enough those bastards took my parents, and 6000 of my other subjects, but now, my career as a ‘Mechwarrior? I guess the hits really do keep on coming?” Victor’s attempt at a one-armed shrug was still not what he would have liked, but he did what he could, what with the bandages around his stump, and the sling.
Victor had had a busy schedule, physical therapy, consultations with doctors, and visits by all sorts of personages. Katherine had told him about their parents, with Omi present. Victor had never been much on tears, but he sobbed like a baby when he’d heard the news. He’d wanted to get back into the cockpit as soon as he could, leading his nation from the front, like a good ruler should, but then came the next blow:
Victor would never pilot a Battlemech again.
It had happened during a routine “skullcap” test where he was like any recruit being considered for battlemech training, asked to make a 1/72nd Battlemech move via a crude nerohelmet. He’d given himself a tonic-clonic seizure instead. An MRI and and EEG later, the results confirmed it. The head injury had caused a form of epilepsy, and the strain of piloting a ‘Mech could potentially kill him. Even with all the strides in neuroscience that had occurred because of neurohelmets, and other Battlemech-related technologies, epilepsy was still a scourge, and was not able to be treated except through medication, diet, and rest.
“They have done all they can, love. Riva Allard herself consulted on this, and if she says we must live with it, then that’s it. Hey, I may be named after my Uncle Ian, but, maybe this is the universe’s way of saying it’s time for me to grow up and hang up the damn spurs.”
Omi nodded “My love, if you can endure, then so can I, at least we know other parts work.” Omi’s smile turned a bit playful at the last remark.
Victor shook his head. “You are going to attack me when they let me out of the body and fender shop, aren’t you?”
Omi nodded, this time, her grin was in full flower.
“If your family saw you?”
“They would approve and wish you strength and for us to produce many grandchildren..especially my grandfather.” Omi stated, her brows furrowing and her smile turning into a smirk as she leaned over and kissed Victor.
“I will admit, you being here has made this all a hell of a lot easier to bear.”Victor said, his hands cupping Omi’s face.
Omi whispered “We are each other’s keeper..in mind, heart, body, and soul. And we will always be so.”
*********************
Ryan Steiner’s Private Drawing Room
Ducal Palace
Summer, Isle of Skye
January 9th, 3057
“BASTARDS!” Ryan Steiner was fuming. First, the indignity of the vaunted AFFC not hunting down and destroying the clanner bastards who had raided his worlds, the fact that they are mine by marriage is only a small detail. And now, this. The AFFC had no intention, according to a man of his on Nondi’s staff, of driving onward to retake worlds from the damn Wolves!
He threw his tumbler full of MaCallan 15 year into the fireplace, and the glass broke with a loud shatter as the contents were consumed by the flames.
“Surely we cannot convince one good son of Skye to do something about this?”
“I am sorry my liege, but our man on Nondi’s staff confirms it. There is to be no war with the Wolves. Tamar is to be left-“ Hauptmann General Harrison Von Frisch, commanding general of the 4th Skye Rangers RCT, and nominal head of the Skye Rangers, was Ryan Steiner's man, body and soul. The weasel tone in his voice was all but proving it, much to Frisch's chagrin.
“Tamar is to be left nowhere, but to us! Harrison, tell me, how many mercenary units do we have on retainer?”
“Four regiments, my liege, the Dragonslayers, whom have enough reasons to hate this faux ‘Commonwealth.’ Eriksson's Einherjar, of whom our money has rebuilt to a full regiment over the last four years, and the Crater Cobras, whom recently left Marik service, and would love a chance to make a splash like this.”
“Good Harrison, good, plus our own regiments? Yes?” Ryan Steiner stroked his chin, conspiratorially.
“Yes, my liege. Give us four months, and we could drop on Tamar with a decent chance of taking the place.” Harrison stated, a bit of pride leaking into his voice when the subject of "his" troops came up.
Ryan Steiner smiled cruelly. “This is good. We shall present the Commonwealth with a fait accompli. Either they reinforce our regiments, and show whom the real Steiners are? Or, they let us die, and risk another rebellion back home as well as in Tamar. This has much potential, Harrision. Send the messages and get the ball rolling. I think it is time we gave the Wolves their eviction notice.”
Harrison nodded, and inexpiably, the night grew just a bit colder indeed.