Battletech Clover Spear - The War of 3056 (Battletech AU)

[CurtisLemay]

Ilse Liao Secondary School for Young Women

Sian

Capellan Confederation

June 19th, 3057

Tears shone in the eyes of Mei Wong. She’d been a teacher for 25 years and had served the Capellan state loyally, turning out generations of proper Capellan women prepared to do their service to the state in all walks of life. She glanced around her classroom. It was small, with the desks cramped together around a small heater that barely worked in the winter months. In the summer, the room was near stifling with the windows closed, but the raid wardens had insisted that with the enemy so close to Sian these days, the windows had to remain closed, and taped.

But what she was being asked to teach her girls today? It was madness. She glanced at the “wall of honor.” The wall was a simple corkboard, with black framed photos of former students who had given the “last full measure for the Capellan State.” They had been old enough. They had volunteered or been properly conscripted at the legal age. This? This is the murder of children. And I am complicit. What kind of monster have I become?

Her morning Capellan History class filed into the room. Their ages were between twelve and fourteen, all were in the school uniform of Liao Green skirts, and silver sweaters, and most of them did the usual things young teen girls did, whispering to each other about the latest gossip. Who liked who, who did what? And how one could break the rules and get away with it. Mei always smiled when she saw this. It’s happy, and normal, and this, what I am being asked to do, it’s not something to be asked of these girls, damn them. Putting half trained girls against Davion ‘Mechs? What in the nine hells justifies this?

She turned towards the ever-present Maskirovka minder sitting in the corner. He was a small, bookish fellow who’d been a semi-permanent shadow for many years. He even had a teaching degree himself, which surprised Mei when he’d first been introduced ten years before. He’d never reported anyone. Usually, he simply cleared his throat, and corrected the behavior with a light touch. Everyone liked “Minder Po,” as he was known affectionately. He often participated as an teacher’s assistant and really helped Mei do her job, but even someone like him, supposedly so fanatically dedicated to the state, was unnerved by what was to come.

Mei clapped twice. She smiled a weak smile and said “Good Morning Class. Time for our daily devotions to the Chancellor and our beloved state!” A bit of hysteria crept into her voice at the last bit, knowing what was coming.

The class smiled, and bowed in the direction of the Forbidden City.

Mei led the class in the daily devotional:

“I am a Capellan, my citizenship is earned through devoted service. I serve my family, state and the Chancellor himself. I act every day to better these things, even if it may cost me life, or limb. I will act every day to bring ruin to traitors, Davions, and Mariks. This I pledge with my life, and the lives of my family, should I prove unworthy. Long Live the Capellan State!”

The class repeated the mantra half-interested. It had become routine to them by now, and like most teenagers, they already had a healthy mistrust of all things adult. But, growing up in the Confederation, they learned fast the truth of the old saying about being “the nail that stood out.”

“Greetings class, today, we will not be continuing our lesson on the reign of Warex Liao. Today, we have a guest lecturer. Subcommander Rytov is here from the local Home Guard, and he is here to discuss with you ways you can contribute to the defense of the Confederation!”

The rickety door to the classroom opened with a bang, and in stormed in a short, but muscular man, or at least he seemed to be. He wore a standard issue combat dress, neatly pressed, but faded, and threadbare. Mei recognized it from her own time in the CCAF with Stapelton’s Iron Hand on Tikonov, back in the Fourth War. She noticed one could see his reflection in his boots. His visage was frightening, his ears were gnarled remnants of flesh, and his face was badly scarred, with the left sleeve of his uniform empty. His right hand was encased in a black glove, and a black eye patch and missing teeth that made his smile even more horrifying completed an image that made Mei shiver involuntarily.

“Greetings children. Or should I say soldiers. I never had much use for school.” Rytov’s voice was booming. He was used to being on a parade ground, chivying around the part-time soldiers of the Home Guard on Sian for parades, memorials, and the like. But the medals on his chest suggested he’d seen action with someone. And so does that face.

“The Davions are at the door, soldiers. And it is time for you to cast off your youth and do your part for the state that has given you so much, eh? You’ll be like the heroes who gave their all on that wall!” as he pointed with his one good hand at the Wall of Honor. The class was of mixed reactions to this, some giggled, some looked at him with rapt attention, and some looked as if all they wanted to do was bolt from the classroom and run home to their parents. If I could, I’d encourage them all to do so. But the sad part is, I can’t. An order from the Chancellor, is an order from the Chancellor. Or as my father put it in his native Russian, “Prikaz y Prikaz – Orders are Orders.”

“For the next two hours, we’re going to teach you all we can to kill Davions. They may look tough, but it’s just looks. They will shrink at killing you because you are little girls. We will teach them you are instead, Capellan citizens willing to do their duty for the state!”

20 minutes later

“Good, Tsu Ling. It’s always the smallest they underestimate the most, nice work on that dummy with the bamboo stave!”

Tsu was fourteen, she’d been picked on a lot by the other girls and Mai often had to intervene. Now the state was handing her a bamboo stave, and an improvised shaped charge and telling her to ‘kill five Davions before she died!’ And she was eating it up like candy! Little Tsu was sensitive, wrote poetry about boys and love, not…not this.

“Next!” shouted Rytov.

Au Shang, a gangly girl of fifteen who had done well in track and field came up, she was shaking and crying. She dropped the stave and shook her head. “No, I won’t. I don’t want to die. I won’t do this! I want to go home!”

Rytov grimaced, and produced a small pistol as if by magic, and put it to Shang’s head.

“One chance, girl. Pick up the stave or die right here.”

She continued to cry.

Rytov’s pistol spoke once with a sharp retort, and Shang’s body fell like a puppet with its strings cut. Blood poured from the open wound in her head, her life flooding below her in a crimson mess of ichor and brains. Rytov then tucked away the pistol, and turned to the rest of the girls. “That is the price of disobedience from now on; death. You will follow orders with speed and cheer. I give everyone one chance, after that, you will be executed, as well as your families for cowardice in the face of the enemy.”

“Now, anyone else want to be a traitor?” the crowd was as silent as a tomb.

“Alright then, let’s break for lunch while the janitorial staff cleans up the unsightly mess.”


Situation Room

Fox’s Den

Mount Davion

New Avalon

Federated Commonwealth

June 20th, 3057

So far, so good, things appear to be on schedule, but Victor did mention ‘nothing ever goes to plan in war or love.’ And damn him, he’s been right about both. Katherine Morgan Steiner Davion was on tent hooks as she gazed intently at the holodisplay as Jackson Davion presented the plans for the second, and hopefully, last phase of ACTIVE PANTHER.

“If all goes according to plan, we should be concluding this operational pause by the middle of July, as we clean up things in Sarna. As of now, for the most part, CCAF units are pulling back across the 3055 border faster than we can catch them in many cases. We aren’t seeing a lot of mass surrenders, but units are fleeing hard for what they imagine is the safety of the Capellan border. We all know how safe that really is.” There was a chuckle at the last comment from around the room. Jackson had done a great job filling Morgan’s shoes while he was still in a coma on New Syrtis, but his prognosis was a bit grimmer than Victor’s had been. And who is going to tell him about his wife? God, will he want to live after that?

“As for our plans for Sian, we expect our initial landings to occur in late July, and follow on landings soon after. We are planning for a total of 8-10 RCTs to invest Sian once we get going, and we estimate, best case, we will reduce and secure Sian by the end of October. Worst case, end of December. They cannot stop us, but they can run out the clock, and kill a lot of our boys and girls.” Jackson grimaced at that last part.

Katherine shook her head. “Jackson, I know Victor hates me asking, because he always says the worst case predictions never come true, but how bad is worst case in terms of casualties?”

Jackson cleared his throat. “Your Highness, these are rough, but the estimates of our intelligence and medical staff here, and in theatre? And this is assuming the Capellans fight like we expect they will, plus twenty percent of the civilian populace actually fights as part of these ‘People’s Victory Banner Battalions’ we hear talk of, plus other considerations? The numbers of dead and wounded could top one million.”

“What other considerations, Jackson?”

“Capellan use of WMD.” Jackson said flatly, which led to some of the more junior aides gasping.

“You really think they’d do it, Jackson?” Katherine said, her knees feeling a bit weak at the thought.

“Considering the Combine didn’t hesitate on Luthien when the Smoke Jaguars came? I see no reason to think otherwise when it comes to us.”

“We have anything concrete?”

“My intelligence staff has seen increased movement and message traffic at a special weapons depot on Sian we keep regular tabs on. Nothing concrete, but no reason to expect that was just some sort of exercise.”

Katherine swore softly. “So, it’s come to this. What’s our response if they nuke our troops, Jackson?”

“We sterilize Sian, and become the damned pariah of the Inner Sphere, but honestly, we can’t recommend anything less or everybody will nuke our boys and girls.” Jackson grimaced, it was obvious this very thought was keeping him up at night. “Your Highness, the Capellans have had a robust WMD program for centuries. Our experiences during the 4th War on Tall Trees and Wei have shown us that. And we have no reason to believe they won’t use such weapons in an attempt to stave off defeat at a time like this. I might recommend such a thing if our situation was reversed.”

“You’re asking me to sterilize worlds, Jackson. Whole worlds.”

Jackson’s eyes bored into Katherine’s “Yes, mam. If it comes to that, I am. And I am sorry. If it comes to that. I will do my duty, and then I will resign. I didn’t join the AFFC to murder billions of people whose only crime was to be born in a nation with a seriously messed up cult of personality in charge. But I will do my duty, Unfinished Book help me.”

 

[CurtisLemay]

Khan’s Personal Chambers

Tamar City

Tamar

Wolf Clan Occupation Zone

June 24th, 3057



Natasha Kerensky looked on as the data feed droned on as the various Khans assembled back home made charges and countercharges about who was responsible for the obvious breakdown in the Honor Road. Kael Pershaw may be a Falcon, but right now, I feel damned sorry for him. Ulric, I know he said you were safe coming back, but I still think you should have ran things from here, where we could have kept you safe. But that damn inscrutable logic of his won the day? “Natasha,” he said “I cannot very well restore order via some impersonal video link from Tamar. I must be home, and the other Khans must see me. Present, and unafraid.” Damn you Ulric. Don’t you go and make yourself a martyr.

Phelan hadn’t said a word since the meeting had begun. He was usually content to mock the other Khans with various obscure quips that never failed to at least get a smirk out of Natasha. Not today. Today, Phelan had some sense of foreboding that had him on edge. Even Ranna had confided in Natasha that Phelan did not seem himself, and the worst part, he couldn’t explain why.

Yeah, when the son of Morgan Kell gets a bad feeling, it’s a good time to listen, but Ulric, you didn’t know Morgan like I did. Dammit. Even I have the heebie jeebies about this.

“The chair recognizes Clan Ice Hellion.”

Khan Asa Taney rose with a sense of dignity and importance he never possessed, even on a good day, of which, for the Clans as a whole, this was not.

There’s been motions to absorb Clan Jade Falcon, to censure the Adders, and to recognize ‘Clan Blood Viper?’ While we weren’t looking, the Vipers and the Blood Spirits merged? Nice move on the Vipers part, and how they managed to get Karianna Schmitt out of the way, I will never know. But I must tip my hat to the Vipers. Nicely done.

Taney had a booming, if high pitched voice. It was like listening to the mother of all reverb from a microphone that had been left too close to a speaker. “ilKhan, I must insist that the motion proposed by the Blood Viper Khans, censuring Clan Star Adder for their perfidious conduct in moving against the Smoke Jaguar homeworld holdings without consulting the Grand Council as a whole, be considered immediately. This sort of thing will only undermine the very underpinnings of the Honor Road, and-“

Cassius N’Buta, Khan of the Star Adders laughed “Taney, you yapping little idiot, are you just upset you did not get any of the spoils from the Jaguars pelt? It is not as if the Council would have let your pathetic little Clan try?”

Taney’s face turned dark crimson, “I will see you in a Circle of Equals for that, N’Buta.”

N’Buta smiled cruelly “A Circle of Equals? That assumes you are my equal, Taney. And you most clearly, are not.”

Taney lunged in N’Buta’s direction, but was restrained by his saKhan and several members of the Ebony Keshik, much to the delight of several attendees. Kael Pershaw shook his head in amused disgust, and then said “We still have another, graver motion on the floor, that I call to a vote, reluctantly. It is the motion for the absorption of Clan Jade Falcon. I now call the roll call of the Khans present.”

“Blood Viper”

Khan Allan Mercer, selected when he was the only survivor of an epic Grand Melee between a record 19 claimants for the Khan of the new Blood Viper clan. He had been hailed by the survivors as “a fighter’s Khan, and one who isn’t afraid to get his hands dirty.” He was a mechwarrior, and his bright green eyes hid a keen intellect, according to the Wolf Watch. The ugly scar on the left side of his face, and the bald head were new.

Mercer rose and smiled a smile of a wolf in a henhouse. “Clan Blood Viper votes Aye.”

“Burrock”

The Clan Burrock Khan, what the hell was his name again? Natasha puzzled, rose and shouted “Aye” and sat down just as fast.

“Cloud Cobra”

“Neg”

“Coyote”

“Aye”

“Diamond Sharks”

“Abstain”

“Fire Mandrills”

“Aye”

“Ghost Bears”

“Aye”

“Golaith Scorpions”

“Aye”

“Ice Hellions”

Asa Taney looked over at the Jade Falcon Khans, and smiled cruelly. Natasha noticed Elias Crichell had his head in his hands, and appeared to be sobbing. I think Crichell has finally broken. I mean, other than a large warship force, the Falcons really don’t have much. And Taney knows it. But look at Marthe Pryde. She is locking eyes with Taney, and her eyes ken death. I am afraid for whoever wins this vote.

“The Ice Hellions vote Aye, the Falcons should see reason and make way for the strong. It is our way.”

“Hell’s Horses”

“Aye”

The Nova Cats had not shown up for the Council meeting, citing martial responsibilities, Natasha smirked at the thought, Too busy probably absorbing as much of the Combine as they can, as well as getting the hell out of the Homeworlds. Speaking of which, I need to arrange a meeting with the Coyotes to transfer our homeworld holdings to them. It’s about time we cut our ties to the madhouse the Homeworlds are becoming.

“Star Adders”

Cassius N’Buta flexed his muscles, and grinned “Clan Star Adder votes Aye. It will be a pleasure to absorb the Falcons and see they learn a more pragmatic vision of the Founder’s teachings.”

Marthe Pryde’s face darkened at the thought. Girl has murder on her mind, and lately, that’s been a thing in the Grand Council.

“Snow Ravens”

“Aye”

“Wolf”

Natasha turned to Phelan, “That’s your cue, kid. Frankly, I think its best we abstain considering what’s going on, and I really don’t like that look on Marthe’s face.”

Phelan nodded, and keyed the mike “Clan Wolf abstains, our pack sees no gain in this hunt.”

There were murmurs of surprise throughout the hall in reaction to the vote by Clan Wolf.

Kael Pershaw looked up from his noteputer. The look on his face was pained, like he was losing a good friend, but duty won out, and he dryly stated “With a vote of ten yays, one neg, and two abstentions, the motion to absorb Clan Jade Falcon has passed. I will now accept initial bids for who will absorb the Falcons-“

“You dezgra scum! Come to finish what the Federated Commonwealth surats could not!” Pryde was on her feet screaming before Pershaw could say a word.

“Be seated Khan Pryde. All is being done according to the Martial Code.” Perhsaw said assuringly.

She turned to face Pershaw. “I remember when you were a Falcon once Perhaw. Now you are a toy of the IlKhan, a mongrel who has ambitions that have doomed us all!”

“Trothkin, let us calm our tempers before we say or do things that will only delay the vote with endless Circles of Equals. We have much-“Ulric Kerensky had his arms outstretched, as if even a man such as him could embrace all the Clans and bring them together, even in a grave time such as this.

Two shots rang out, and gouts of blood and vicera erupted from Kerensky’s chest, and then a third, and a hole appeared in his forehead, the back of his head exploding in a shower of blood and brains as he collapsed like a puppet. Two more shots occurred, catching Kael Pershaw in the chest, knocking him down, but his mechanical enhancements saved his life.

The shooter was none other than Marthe Pryde, she howled in triumph as she turned her ceremonial revolver on Crichell, putting a round through his head, as he collapsed, dead as his blood sprayed all over his side of the shared council desk. “I have redeemed us, Falcons! Join me, and together we will hold off-“

An Ebon Keshik Elemental fired a three round burst from his submachinegun, catching Pryde in the chest, and she went down in a violent spray of blood and guts, he then calmly walked over and put another three round burst into her head.

The rest of the chamber erupted into chaos, accusations and counter accusations passed like wildfire, and Khans lunged at each other with knives, barehands, and improvised clubs, while others simply made a hasty exit.

Natasha and Phelan looked at each other, Natasha’s eyes leaking tears like a waterfall.

“They killed him, they just..killed him. Goddamit! I told him not to go!”

Phelan snatched her up in an embrace. How will we tell the rest of the Clan? How will we tell them that the greatest Kerensky since the Great Father himself is gone, fallen to a dezgra assassin?

“For many, the question is ‘Where were you when you heard Hanse and Melissa Steiner-Davion were murdered?’ For me and most members of the Wolf Clan, it was ‘Where were you when you heard our One Father, Ulric Kerensky, was murdered at the foul hand of a dying Clan?’ And what we didn’t know then, but we know now, is Ulric’s death touched off a bloodletting back home not seen since the Pentagon Wars. We had refugees tell us for years about it, the ones that managed to make the trip to find us or the Ghost Bears. They called it “The Harrowing”. And indeed, it was."

-Excerpt from the unpublished memoirs of Khan Phelan Kell-Ward, First saKhan and later 3rd Khan of the Wolf Dominion, released by his estate in 3091.

 

[CurtisLemay]

Message to the Capellan People delivered by "various 'National Technical Means'" on July 1st by Federated Commonwealth forces on the eve of the invasion of Sian

An image crackles to life as the video track begins to play. First, there is a test pattern, and then, the Fist and Sun of the Federated Commonwealth against a blue field, which fades to a woman sitting at a large oak desk, in a well decorated office. Behind her is a shelf with unit patches from all of the AFFC, and standing to one side is a young blond man, short in stature, one sleeve is pinned up, and the other hand is on the seated woman's shoulder. A woman of Asian descent stands next to him, her face the very image of stone.

The woman seated at the desk begins to speak:

"Greetings, people of the Capellan Confederation, and specifically, the people of Sian. I am Katherine Morgan Steiner-Davion, Acting Archon-Princess of the Federated Commonwealth. No doubt, you have heard a lot about me, and my family. I am sure none of it was very flattering.

"The reason I take the unusual step of speaking to you today is to speak to you about your nation, your future, and the situation you find yourselves in now. Ten months ago, your leaders made the decision to attack my nation. They did so by opening that attack not with a formal declaration of war, but by a perfidious stab in the back that murdered approximately six thousand people here, on New Avalon. Among the casualties were my mother, and my father. They have followed it up with continued terror attacks across the realm. Thousands have died, and thousands more have empty chairs at the table.

"This was followed up with an assault on our realm at the very time we were in the process of ridding the Inner Sphere of the scourge of the Clans. The Clans are, and in some cases, continue to be a threat to the lives of us all, even you, the Capellan citizens who watch this video. The AFFC has faced the Clans, and has triumphed. We have now come to set right the situation your leaders have created.

"We know what your leaders have told you about our best, our AFFC. Nothing could be further than the truth. We have, in my brother's words, always stood for 'might for right' and as long as I or my family rules this Commonwealth, this will never change.

"Our quarrel is with your leaders, your Chancellor who has led you down this road of ruin you find yourselves in today. To all of you I beg you, lay down your arms. If you are members of the armed forces, you will be treated according to interstellar conventions. If you are a civilian, you will be allowed to return home. Please, do not force our hand and force us to fight. You know what the outcome will be. Why die for a man whose actions have never benefited the average citizen of the Confederation, but have asked you to sacrifice more and more for a state that has never lifted a finger for you, especially now?

"As for those of you who are commissioned officers in the CCAF, you bear a special responsibility now. Your nation can have a new birth, or it can experience ruin. I would remind you that long standing Federated Commonwealth policy, set by generations of First Princes, and Archons have equated any WMD use on our troops as equivalent to the use of a nuclear weapon. I would implore you, if you receive such orders to use such terrible weapons, refuse them. We have all seen what has happened to Luthien. I do not wish to repeat that on Sian.

"We do not come to conquer, we do not come to pillage, or visit mindless destruction. We come to liberate you. Please, help us do that. Help us help you.

"This next message is for all those of the 'Victory Battalions'. Kids, I know you're scared. I don't blame you. But courage sometimes is found simply by saying 'no'. This is that time. Say no. You will find there are others who feel likewise. We don't want to murder children. Please, don't make us. And as for your minders? Your day is coming, either in this world, or the next. I promise you that.

"And finally, for Sun-Tsu, you have 24 hours to surrender, cease all hostilities, and abdicate your throne. Otherwise, remember the promise I made? Well, I am coming to collect."

The video then fades to the same test screen, and then black, before cutting off.

 

[CurtisLemay]

Private Quarters of the Archon-Prince
Castle Davion
New Avalon
Crucis March, Federated Commonwealth
July 2nd, 3057

Victor Steiner-Davion gazed over the latest intelligence estimate from the Capellan front that was laid out on his coffee table. Such nice surroundings for news so grim. While most of the CCAF was in a pell-mell retreat for the 3055 border, or at least what parts of it were still in Capellan hands, the word from Sian was grim. Jesus, Sunny is giving daily exhortations to everyone on the planet between the age of twelve and fifty five to fight to the last, and 'take five Davions with them when they die'. One particularly grim example was a two-page ad in a popular Capellan women's magazine published on Sian, that gave detailed instructions on how to use an SRM launcher to stalk and kill a 'Mech. The advice here is criminally optimistic. Even if you do score a hit, it's not going to do much more than scratch the paint on most 'Mechs. But I guess Sunny and the Mask can't tell folks that, lest he face an outright revolution.

Summer was in full bloom on New Avalon, and with it, the heat, but Victor was dressed in a pair of his old physical training clothes from his days at the Nagelring. He'd left the windows open, mainly because today had a nice breeze going, but he had followed the instructions of the security people who had begged him not to throw open the Kevlar-lined shades, so the breeze was a bit...anemic. And between them and the doctors, they won't let me get a decent run in around New Avalon. Nope, gotta use the boring old palace track. I wonder if this is how Dad felt? Being trapped in a gilded cage.

And the advice Katherine was getting from the general staff at the Fox's Den was downright apocalyptic. Jackson's all but expecting the Capellans to use WMD the minute we land on Sian. He is probably resigned to the fact we'll have to respond to any Capellan first use in kind. Katherine is practically holding on by her fingernails at the prospect, and I cannot say I blame her. Jackson's slowed down the rate of advance till we've cut the planet off from the rest of the Confederation, probably a good move overall, but we need to finish this, not that I think it will be quick, or cheap by any means.

Victor glanced again at the latest order of battle estimates for the Capellan defenses of Sian. He'd practically memorized the telling passage that made his heart sink every time he read it "...CCAF defenses are expected to be heavy, and in-depth. We expect extensive use of fortified belts, both pre-existing, and newly created, and we have seen massive projects to construct all kinds of anti-mobility obstacles. We have identified, in addition to at least three divisions of the Sian Home Guard, elements of the Red Heart Guards brigade, both battalions of Warrior House Immarra, the 4th Tau Ceti Rangers, two divisions of the Word of Blake Militia (unit designations unknown), as well as a provisional CCAF 'Mech regiment made up of convalescents and comb outs from various government ministries of anyone with any Battlemech experience. We also estimate upwards of 100-150 "Victory Battalions." Assets in place have also identified the arrival of several company sized units that we think are survivors of various units that have been destroyed during Active Panther..."

"Shit," Victor cursed softly. He knew the AFFC could take Sian, 8-10 RCTs along with an additional 8 Artillery Brigades should be enough, though getting them there is proving to be difficult. He was glad Omi was off with Pavvrati and Yvvone, she didn't like it much when he was grouchy, and the fact was, the military situation, while a winning one, was enough to make one very, very grouchy indeed.

There was a knock at the door, and his servant opened it, placing himself between Victor and whomever was at the door on the off chance it was an assassin. Not that I am too worried. The other two servants in the room are with the Guards, and there's a Rapid Fox reaction force on thirty second standby downstairs. Yeah, the Blakists would have to work hard....but they got lucky already, didn't they?

The servant conversed softly with whomever was at the door, and then closed it, he walked over to Victor in three steps, and stopped 5 feet in front of his sovereign, saluting palm out and stating "Sir, we have received diplomatic traffic from our embassy in Orestes. It's a verigraphed ROM from Natasha Kerensky of the Wolves."

Victor's jaw dropped. "Are they sure about it's authenticity?"

The servant nodded, and handed the disk to Victor, who inserted it carefully into a nearby reader set into the wall, that broadcast it into a nearby screen usually meant for entertainment purposes. Rather not go to my office for this.

The screen came to life, and after ten seconds of the sigil of a snarling wolf, the insignia of the Wolf Clan, the image resolved into none other than Natasha Kerensky. Her face was drawn, and her eyes were red. She sat at a plain metal desk in an non-descript office. She was dressed simply, a pair of green overalls with the Clan Wolf insignia over the left breast. But the fire in her eyes had not changed. Is this to be a batchall for the survival of your Clan, Natasha. Please God, please don't be.

"Greetings Victor Steiner-Davion. I may not have been able to do so before, but I wanted to extend my sympathies on the deaths of your Mother and Father. They were great rulers, and good people. They always did right by the Dragoons, which is something not a lot of the Inner Sphere can say." Natasha exhaled and smiled weakly "You must be wondering why I have sent you this verigraphed ROM. Well, simply put, you've won. You've won a far bigger victory over the Clans than you have realized. Attached to this disk is the video of the last hours of Ilkhan Ulric Kerensky's life. He was murdered on the 24th of last month by the saKhan of the Jade Falcons. His murder has touched off a spate of violence back in the Clan Homeworlds that is reminiscent of some of the earlier aspects of our history, and yours."

"Needless to say, I am now responsible for the lives and future of Clan Wolf. Ulric bequeathed me that responsibility, and some assets that will help our Clan in the days, months, and years to come. But I send you this message to bargain not for the terms of a war between us. If your war has demonstrated anything, is that our way, including the way of Zellbrigen must change. No, I come to bargain for the terms of a peace between us. A lasting one that gives both our nations a shot at a future worth having. I am prepared to do much to achieve it, including the discussion of the return of Tamar to the Federated Commonwealth, as well as negotiating a permanent border between our two nations..."

Victor's mouth hung open, he paused the playback, hardly believing what he had just seen and heard. He motioned over his servant. "Niles, get the bottle of Glengarry Special Reserve, and pour you and I a glass. I think I just saw the end of the Clan War."

 

[CurtisLemay]

Cat Fight Part 7

"I once read something that perfectly encapsulated my journey from the granddaughter of Takashi Kurita, Coordinator of the Draconis Combine, Duke of Luthien, Unifier of Worlds, to Archon-Princess Omiko Steiner-Davion, Duchess-by-Marriage of Tharkad and New Avalon, Lady of the Crucis March. It was simply 'I did not leave my party, my party left me'. Like many changes we face, comprehending that was extremely hard. Knowing that I would never see the home I grew up in and the people that I knew as a girl, knowing that I could never visit the graves of my father, mother, or brothers to mourn, knowing that I would be viewed at best with wary suspicion in my new home until I proved myself as more than a 'damned Snake' if I ever did in the beholder's eyes. All these things are very painful and hard to bear, but I have my honor to sustain me, and that honor lets me endure the unendurable because I know that it is the right thing, the honorable thing to do.."

Omiko Steiner-Davion, My Path To The Top Of The Mountain: A Journey from Luthien to Kentares, New Avalon Press 3083

Masamori City

Hachiman, Galedon Military District

8 June 3057

Miyako Kurita scowled at the tactical map projected inside her headquarters in the Urizen Kurita Junior Warrior's Academy. Planetfall had proceeded as per her wishes, but the rest of the campaign had not.

The first indication that the plan was not going according to her desires was when Gin battalion of Ryuken-yon -- her old command! -- had crossed the Yamato River on the Sanethia Kurita Memorial bridge. Forward elements had secured the far side and the bulk of Ryuken-yon was crossing when a yacht approached the bridge.

The resulting nuclear detonation incinerated two companies of her elites, including Sho-sho Shodaru and his mobile HQ unit along with the bridge that they were on, and was the signal for a regiment of Black Dragon Battlemechs to slam into the battalion that had made it across. None of her men and women made it back, with the survivors pulled from their cockpits, tied up, and then dropped onto the radioactive glass of the steaming crater to expire in agony from their wounds, heat, and lethal doses of radiation in front of her soldiers' horrified eyes.

She was fortunate that she had stopped her Naginata in the rear of the advance to deal with a logistics tie-up at her spacehead when the trap was sprung. Instead her comrades died screaming while she tried to funnel reserves to salvage the situation.

The battered remnants of Ryuken-yon plus her personal guards held the riverbank under her direct command until Ryuken-san's assault Mechs could join the two companies of survivors clinging to the shattered buildings lining Tai-so Dalton Way and begin to exchange fire with the enemy across the river. Seeing the garrison regiment of the Sixteenth Galedon Regulars here, she had ordered the mobile forces of the Twelfth Dieron Regulars to probe the flanks to try to locate a weak point, or as it turned out, hostile reinforcements. The probe south found the Thirteenth Sun Zhang dug in along the riverbank and desultory long-range fire was exchanged when the other shoe dropped.

Second Battalion of the Twelfth Dieron hit a battlemech force coming their way as they probed north into the Floating District pleasure district. The Ninth Benjamin Regulars, which had claimed their loyalty to her and were supposed to be on Proserpina watching the Davions had turned their coats and been smuggled here. Once again, Miyako led Ryuken-yon into the fire, along with a backing battalion from Ryuken-san and the loyalists of HTE's Corporate Security Force.

Somehow, her scratch force held, although one of every two of her samurai fell like cherry blossoms around her as the Floating District burned on her orders to delay the enemy. As the flames raced through town uncontrollably she was able to dig in along a defense line shielding HTE and the spaceport and finally rotate her weary soldiers back for repair and rest.

Scouting probes over the next days revealed the stalemate. The enemy had two veteran city fighting units in Masamori City with the cadets of the Thirteenth to provide pickets and reinforcements. Worse, they were dug in along the river facing her to the steaming crater that was once the main bridge linking the two halves of the city. From there, her line bent sharply back west through the smouldering rubble of the residential districts servicing the Floating City and the factories to be anchored at the HTE complex's fortifications.

The enemy had not been idle either and constant lance and company-sized skirmishes flickered along the battlefront as armor and ashigaru infantry units lurked in ambush. Any retreat offworld would be unthinkable to contemplate, but without fresh troops, she saw no way to break the deadlock.

With that she flipped a switch and the strategic map replaced the tactical map.

She surveyed the scattering of crimson icons and hateful yellow icons of the suspected positions of the traitors. along the Galedon/Benjamin border, with the upper boundary the gray of the Clan OZ and the lower the blue of the FedCom. She tapped keys, pulling up transport availability and fore readiness projections as her eyes narrowed.

"Sho-sa Tomokamai!"

"Yes, Coordinator?" The young soldier barked out with a light Swedenese accent to his Japanese.

"Take a message directly to our ComStar representative personally. message is as follows. Priority HPG transmission to the following units. To Marduk, the Twenty-Second Benjamin Regulars dispatch a battalion to Proserpina to backstop the planetary militia and secure the planet, and send their best battalion to reinforce Hachiman. To Xinyang, move the Fifteenth Benjamin Regulars to Hachiman. To Arkab, move the Sixth Arkab Regiment to Xinyang to cover our supply base. To Shimonoseki, Planetary Militia Commander will retransmit to the Twenty-Second Dieron Regulars to stand in readiness to be dispatched to Hachiman if needed to reinforce efforts to liberate the planet once their convoy jumps into system.”

A second aide entered the room with a message form in hand. “Coordinator! The Forty-Fifth Dieron Regulars have gone rogue! Elements of their regiment have been reported as raiding Camlann, Buckminster, and Shionoha! Planetary militia forces are reporting serious damages to industries and personnel.”

Miyako scowled and pinched her nose. “I do not have the forces to hunt these ronin down. Once the Black Dragons are crushed, then we can proceed with exterminating traitors and bandits such as these. Give the orders for troop movements as directed.”

As Ichiro Tomokamai saluted and departed, he began to mentally prepare an addition for the message to the Sixth Arkab. “I should notify my father that in the event of a Clan attack into the military district he commands or if the bandits of the Forty-Fifth assault his words, Miyako Kurita will not defend them. Tai-sa Bjutial of the Sixth and he are long friends and will pass the warning along.”

-------------------------------

Fox’s Den

New Avalon, Crucis March, Federated Commonwealth

15 June 3057

Lieutenant Colonel Parvati glanced over at her ’aide’ as they cleared the checkpoint and the armored hatch irised open deep under Mount Davion. “Don’t worry, everyone has these moments their first time in the Den, Agent Tanaka.”

Beside her, clad in the uniform of an AFFC officer with no rank insignia, Omiko Kurita nodded as they headed down the passage. Her face was impassive save for a sheen of sweat on her brow as for the first time in the history of the Federated Suns, a Kurita entered the nerve center of House Davion’s military machine.

Presently they came to a door marked with an alphanumeric stencil. ‘MI2SECCONF-083J’. Here they halted and watched by multiple security cameras, presented palmprint and iris scans for authentication. The door unlocked and they stepped inside.

Inside was a sterile conference room with a coffee and tea bar on one wall, a dozen seats around a holotable and a security panel.

“Tea?” Parvati asked.

Omi nodded as she disarmed the self-destruct device on her briefcase and began to remove datachips. “Tea, please.”

She nodded thanks to Parvati as a steaming mug with a cartoon fox digging a burrow was placed in front of her. She sipped it and made a face. “Irony. According to Father, the tea in the Black Room was atrocious and could peel paint from his battlemechs with its strength. I suppose that the Davions buy their tea from the same plantations then to use in their secure headquarters.”

Parvati laughed as the door opened again to reveal Tancred Sandoval in his general’s uniform. “I have no doubt that your tea was purchased from the lowest bidder too.”

Tancred looked over at Omi as he made himself a mug of coffee and then moved to sit across from her as she finished inputting her data. “I must ask, what prompted your change of heart?”

Omi looked the Sandoval heir in the eyes, Kurita steel-blue meeting Sandoval dark brown as their wills clashed. “My nation is in its death agonies, Sandoval-san, and whatever survives this war will be a pale shadow of our past glories. There shall be no winners, no honor, and no glory from the madness between my cousin and my half-brother, not anymore. Only survivors and the dead, just as in the Succession Wars under Jinjiro Kurita. All I can do now is act to minimize the suffering for those who my family has ruled for centuries; to fulfill a ruler’s obligation toward his subjects and the demands of Honor before those fighting over the Dragon’s corpse destroy all they touch. I wish it were otherwise, but wishing does not make it so. If my wishes bore fruit, I would still have my family with me, or at least be able to mourn at the graves of my father, mother, and brothers who have gone before me.”

She closed her eyes and took a deep breath, then opened them to speak quietly and bitterly, “Congratulations on your victory. The Yellow Bird has defeated the Dragon at last. Shikata ga nai.”

With that she flipped a switch and a holomap of the Combine appeared, showing the best estimates that the remnants of the Order of Five Pillars had on the positions, strengths, and loyalties of the Draconis Combine Mustered Soldiery. Sandoval inserted his own datachip and blue units began to gather along the stripped-clean border of the Combine.

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Nadir Jump Point

Xinyang, Xinyang Prefecture, Benjamin Military District

16 June 3057

“Jump signature inbound!”

Tai-sa Samuel Lepke of the Fifteenth Benjamin Regulars looked over at the sensor operator. “Another one of our jumpships?”

“Negative, sir! It’s massive, estimate in the three quarters of a million megaton range!”

The commander blanched at the news, since there was only one thing that it could be.

Warship…

“General signal to all ships, emergency undock from jumpships, battle stations, launch all ASFs, and stand by to engage enemies! Honor the Dragon!”

Fifteen minutes later, the Black-Lion class battlecruiser CSJ Streaking Mist led the remnants of the Smoke Jaguar Touman into the system to claim the desperately-needed supply dumps that one of their newly captured bondsmen had reported were present.

Seventeen minutes after the alert had sounded, Sho-sa Peter Yoshuka rammed the newly arrived Potemkin class cruiser CSJ Osis’ Pride amidships with his Achilles at maximum thrust, sparking a series of explosions that gutted the ship.

Twenty-eight minutes after the battle began, the CSJ Streaking Mist began to burn toward Xinyang at the .75G that she was now barely capable of, while trailing air from her wounds.

None of the Fifteenth Benjamin survived to oppose the Jaguars. Not any longer.

 

[CurtisLemay]

“As June faded into July, the plight of the Confederation deepened, and five Capellan worlds, Relevow, Geifer, Cordaigr, Glasgow, and Imalda fell into Allied hands with barely a shot fired. Most of these worlds were wracked by a collapse of Capellan authority even before the arrival of Allied troops, and often it was sufficient for the allies to install a company-sized garrison, change the flags, and drive on to the ultimate prize: Sian.”

• pp. 197, “The Defense of the Sarna and Capellan Marches and Active Panther” by the Federated Commonwealth Office of Military History, Government Press, New Avalon, 3060.

“I do remember that things at the main command center were chaotic by the beginning of July. Sun-Tsu hardly took our briefings anymore. Our section’s bosses spent more of their time burning or shredding documents, or making false identity documents for themselves. There was a thought most of us could flee to Marik space. That was until we saw troops massing in the Concordat and Andurien. I think that’s when we all knew it was over. We had twelve suicides that day alone. Me? I packed my bags, grabbed my false Augrian papers, 35,000 C-Bills and made a run for the Periphery border. Of course, I ran into your troops first?”

• “Capellan Perspectives Project” Federated Commonwealth Office of Military History. Interview No 191, Interview of Maskirovka Commander Ling Po-Tsien, Age 30, formerly of the Analysis and Intentions Section, AFFC Desk.

Caeme Falls
Yuris
Capellan Confederation
July 17th, 3057

The LRRP team had been out for five days, and had done little more than spend their time dodging Capellan infantry and helicopter patrols for most of the patrol. So far, they hadn’t seen more than the Home Guard, but they’d seen evidence of Capellan ‘Mechs about, as they’d found tracks and remains of FARPs all over their patrol AO, but so far, they hadn’t actually seen a single Capellan ‘Mech.

And this was beginning to get on Corporal Ander’s nerves. That, and that weird thing Pappy did with his damn lower bridge. Sounded like a dancing skeleton. And the asshole thinks it’s a laugh riot. He’ll get us all killed because of that stupid lower bridge of his. He isn’t fit to be out here. Can’t be quiet enough to do the job. But, the rest of the lads trust him. So, I gotta trust him.

And sure enough, Pappy, also known as Private Les Winningham, was expertly scanning his sector with his Federated Light Machine Gun, his assistant gunner, Private Danni Lesko, was behind him, and a little low to the left, the entire patrol was at a listening halt. Daylight was waning in the sky, and the setting sun cast everything in a red-orange hue, making everything seem on fire. It would be beautiful, if not for the circumstances.

Anders looked again at the rest of his squad, and passed another hand and arm signal to set out, slow, then pointed an azimuth that paralleled a trail up the looming hill ahead. It was some 100 meters to the left of the falls, and the falls were loud enough to make it hard to think, let alone hear. Shit this would be a damn good place for an ambush. A real good place.

The walk up the hill was challenging, as the hill had a gentle, but steady grade, but the 40-50 kilogram loads the LRRPs were carrying, plus the fact they’d already covered close to 40 kilometers already was conspiring to make the climb far harder than it would be normally. The squad was tired, and all most of it could focus on was the next step, let alone their sectors. They tried, oh they tried, and discipline warred with sheer exhaustion.

It was inevitable that the second man in the file missed the whine of an actuator. The poor private, a replacement from Archenar, didn’t miss being torn apart by half a dozen .50 caliber rounds as tracers reached out to him from a position some 200 meters in front of him as a bird-like shape rose from the hilltop like a moss covered preshistoric monster, belching fire and death.

Anders screamed “SCATTER!” as he snapped off a long burst at the ‘Mech. It was a Locust, but the attached foliage made it impossible to tell which Capellan unit they were a part of. The LRRPs expertly executed a “break contact peel”, each emptying a magazine or belt into the advancing ‘Mech. But it didn’t matter, as it shrugged off most of the small arms file like the buzzing of flies. Pappy soon went down as he stopped to fire on the Locust with a V-LAW. A beam of light from the ‘Mech’s torso soon connected killer and victim, and Pappy simply ignited like kindling, not even having had enough time to scream.

The unit did its best to try to hold off the monster in their midst, but it was useless. If you stopped, you were dead, and if you didn’t, you couldn’t do anything substantial to stop it. The four survivors of the squad half ran and half tumbled down the hill, and that’s when another monster rose from the forest on their right. It was of a different shape, more humanoid, and less alien, but just as large, and just as faceless. Another beam of light shot out and blew Cho, the squad’s radio operator to ash. Her scream was cut like a knife. Ander’s mind snapped, he hit the quick release on his ruck and took off at a dead run, machine gun rounds tearing apart the ground all around him as he ran, to get as far from the monsters as he could. He was so intent on running he missed the large branch that hung low in front of him, the one that he ran into full force, and knocked himself unconscious.

Seven hours later, he was the only survivor of First Squad, LRRP Company, 41st Avalon Hussars RCT. He wouldn’t manage to report in for three additional days, and by then, all of the FC forces on Yuris already knew what Anders knew. The Capellans had been reinforced by the Metal Phalanx Mercenary Battalion, and Warrior House Diadachi.



Zenith Jump Point
Sian System
Capellan Confederation
July 27th, 3057

Kai Allard-Liao looked on from the viewport of the Phoenix Rising. She was one of four Union-C dropships attached to the Jade Phoenixes, and had proven the most difficult to acquire from the Federated Commonwealth for the unit. It helps being a friend of Victor’s as well as having the bank account I do. But this wasn’t cheap, but it’s worth it. So worth it.

Kai looked on as Sian loomed ever larger in the viewport, it was a dull blue green orb some distance away, but every day, it got a little bigger, since their entry into the system three days before. They’d been travelling at a stately one gee, the Fedcom force commander had decided that it was probably best not to tire the troops out by burning hard for Sian itself. We have a tomorrow, they don’t. Strange to see this as a battle. It’s going to be a damn execution. All the Capellans are doing to prepare, it won’t mean a damn thing. We’re just going to be forced to kill more people who have no business being on a damn battlefield in the first place. And why? Because Sun-Tsu won’t see reason. Not that he ever did. Mom was right. We’d be having a reckoning one day. And where we are. Mom, why the hell did you not let Hanse Davion settle things ten years ago?

Kai felt a large hand settle gently on his shoulder. “So, ovKhan. Are you trying to intimidate all of Sian by yourself?”

Kai didn’t turn to face Taman Malthus “No, I am trying to get my thoughts together before we ground. Before I have to kill a bunch of people who have no business holding a damn rifle.” He then turned to face Malthus. “Taman, tell me you are bothered by this?”

Taman nodded “We all are, Kai, we all are. The Fedcom’s patched in what passes for entertainment and news from Sian…and its contents are unsettling. They have children’s shows teaching how to emplace magnetic mines on our ‘Mechs. Kai, I did not agree with putting our sibkos into harms way to face the Federated Commonwealth. I was captured in the first wave, but had I known, I would have faced Chistu in a circle of equals myself. And I would have made sure he never left that circle alive. To arm sibkids as young as ten and expect them to stop ‘Mechs is wasteful.”

“What will we do, Taman?”

“Fight according to our ideals and what you established this unit to be. Redemption for us, and all the Clans. We will not willingly murder children and non-combatants. On this, you have my rede.”

“Selya, Malthus, but I think the Capellans get a vote there.”

“Seyla, trothkin. But you are Kai Allard-Liao, and if anyone can find a way, you will. Of that, OvKhan, you have my faith, and the faith of every warrior and tech in this unit. You gave us a way to be warriors again, Kai. And we will never forget that, in a cause truly worthy of us. Worry not. We will liberate these poor people from the lies and delusions of this Celestial Wisdom.” Malthus spat the last comment as if itwas poison.

Kai smiled. “Perhaps we will, Taman, perhaps we will.”

 

[CurtisLemay]

​

“As the War of ’56 headed to its bloody conclusion on the battlefields of Sian and Yuris, there were unnoticed sideshows by other neighbors of the Capellan Confederation, who sought to get their own piece of the pie in the chaos of the collapse. While the moves by Andurien was expected by most observers, the move by the Taurian Concordiat to retake Rollis was seen as a most unusual move, what with the huge dollops of anti-Fedcom propaganda that had pervaded Concordat society in the years before Jeffrey Calderon…”

• Anton Riksdar, “Death Rattle of the Confederation”, Ueda Press, 3075

"Some say I should have become a hero of the Confederation and resisted the Taurian “invasion”. Bull. What the hell was I going to do? We hadn’t gotten a shipment of beans, bullets, or spare parts since the Fedcom had counterattacked on Sarna. With Sian itself under threat, and us being on the ass end of the Periphery border? We were told to “defend Rollis against all enemies and fight to the last Capellan.” So, I did. But when the Taurians showed up? I had mostly green kids who barely knew which end of the PPC was dangerous, and had already been used to diffuse three near-riots over a lack of food and water. I’d had to hang four warriors for taking food from a family at gunpoint. My command was disintegrating, and the militia wasn’t looking much better. If there was another riot, I couldn’t count on them. And we didn’t have enough dropships to retreat off-world with our gear. And we had no jumpships. They’d left back in June. We’d been left to die at the hands of the Fedcom. And we were convinced they were coming, with an eye towards revenge for what happened on Wei all those years ago.

"I have to say, when the Taurians showed up with that ‘multi-national force’ and with a couple of jumpships with food and medical supplies? I didn’t see the point of resisting? Why? We had people dying of starvation right outside the front gate of the cantonment. I wasn’t going to defend the right of Capellan citizens to starve to death. I made a decision I have had no cause to regret…”

• Interview of Colonel Andrea Sung, former commanding officer of Sung’s Cuirassiers, as featured in “Rollis: The Story of a Humanitarian Invasion”, by Alan Jerkan, Bull Horns Press, Taurus, 3059

Planetary Command Bunker
Rollis
20km SSW of New Harmon
August 8th, 3057

Colonel Andrea Sung was tired. Tired and hungry. She looked less the image of a confident military officer, and more the image of a cave troll. Her almond colored eyes were dull with hunger, along with most of her command. The entire planet had been on half-rations for at least a month. Water was also at a premium, and it was a blessing they’d all gone nose-blind. The stench of fear and unwashed uniforms was overwhelming. And we’d had three near riots in Freeport. People want food, people want to leave. But there’s no Jumpships to carry them anywhere. The Chancellor ordered them all out last month, along with what was left of the food, and very little if anything grows here. You can’t eat the wood that grows here. I got children dying of hunger within sight of my troops. And there is blessed little I can do about it.

She shook her head and looked at the assembled members of the command staff, as well as the staff of the bunker. They were mostly impossibly young, having been seconded from the militia. Some so young, and so malnourished, their uniforms were baggy and ill-fitting. Sunken eyes and boney fingers moved at a slow pace over the various map displays and radio equipment. Conversation was muted, and she turned her gaze to Commander Zhao, he was the commander of the militia. He was in deep conversation with Yang Fon, the local Mask chief. Neither of them seemed to have the energy to shout the usual defiant slogans about “death to the Davions” or “we will remain Capellan” which she’d seen spray-painted all-over buildings in New Harmon.

I guess a lack of food is tempering everyone’s loyalty to the state these days. Yesterday was terrible. She’d had to order a lance of ‘Mechs to break up a riot at the only hospital on planet. Power was also an issue, as the only fusion plant on world was facing shutdown due to a lack of spare parts and reaction mass. I had to order the hospital to shut down power to the ICU, and…the NICU, and declared martial law in the same breath. How many did I murder then? And just for the crime of “not enough state resources” left to care for them? In the end, is this the loving embrace of the state that we always would hear about?

She then looked at the Deep Space Radar display, a mass of dots with telemetry readings glowed an ugly red that was moving ever closer to the planet by the hour. Trajectory has them grounding at Freeport, which was an hour away from the bunker, bit longer to New Harmon itself. But the truth was, she didn’t think she could do more than fight one good engagement before her regiment, Sung’s Cuirassiers collapsed due to a lack of food, ammunition, spare parts, and plain demoralization. And how much of a sweat are the Davions going to break? And will they accept my surrender when I am forced to give it? Our regiment has a bit of a history with them. A very recent history.

She turned towards her executive officer, Commander Zhao Jen-Ling. He was a new graduate of the command course at SAMD. He was a solid and loyal Capellan soldier, but like most of them, exhaustion, lack of food, and depression was taking their toll. He shook his head, and said nothing. But his eyes said it all. No chance. No chance at all. A survey of the room found he was not alone. Noone would utter it, not with the Mask adviser standing right there. But all of their eyes, including, surprisingly, his, said the same thing: We can’t win, don’t make us fight a battle that will do little but kill more of our own people.

Andrea sighed. She turned towards the commo tech, a young man with mixed Asian and Caucasian features who’s lenses on his glasses took up half of his face.

“Beng, get in touch with the Davions, tell them we’re asking for terms.”

A series of gasps escaped everyone in the room. All eyes went towards the Mask adviser, Mark Tsentov. He’d been on Rollis for years, having been exiled here for indiscretions with the daughter of the head of his work section. He’d married that daughter after, and they’d built a life on Rollis. Three children, two of them died in service of the state, and one a bureaucrat on Sian.

Tsentov had no desire to bring war, especially a losing one, to Rollis. Pirates were one thing, but this? He shrugged, “If you all think I will tell you to seek a good death on the spears of the Davions for the good of the state? No. I am not going to be stupid and pig-headed enough to say that. We have 14-year olds in the militia, who are equipped with spears, because we don’t have enough ammunition to properly equip them. Most of the populace is eating half a liter of watery soup a day. We have rickets, pellagra, and a host of other ailments killing our people. We may yield to the Davions without a shot, but at least, Colonel Sung, we will save our people. The Davions are not pirates. They will feed them. I order you, in the name of the state, make contact and seek honorable terms.”

Beng crossed the room with a tactical radio headset in hand. He handed it to Sung, tears in his eyes. “Here you are, mam.”

Sung nodded. She cleared her throat and pushed the talk button. “To the inbound dropships currently entering our atmosphere. I am Colonel Andrea Sung of Sung’s Cuirassiers of the Capellan Confederation Armed Forces. I am the senior officer in command of the defenses of Rollis and have authority over all CCAF forces currently stationed here. I am asking for terms. Please, my people are starving, sick, and dying. I will not fight their saviors, even if they are Davions. We will surrender with only one condition: Please save our people.”

She released the push to talk button and listened to the static crackle for a few seconds before the beep of a radio circuit being opened rang through the quiet command center. The voice on the radio was male, calm, strong and clear. It was strangely reassuring, given the circumstances. “Colonel Sung, my name is Hallaran. Comptroller James Hallaran, Taurian Defense Force. I have the pleasure of commanding Task Force Secure Hope, and my orders are to lead a humanitarian rescue of Hollis, and facilitate its recovery pending a plebiscite of its people on whether it wishes to remain with the Confederation, or return to the loving arms of the Concordat. We do not require your surrender, Colonel. We do ask for your cooperation.”

Sung looked at the headset in shock. Eyes had goggled around the room and at least one person whispered audibly. “This is either pirates, or a really bad joke.”

Sung pushed the talk button. “Comptroller, you did say Taurian, right?”

There was a chuckle over the frequency, and she could hear other laughter in the background over the open mike. “Well, I am, as is the two battalions of Concordat Commandos with me. But we have more than a few of us. A battalion from the 2nd Canopean Light Horse, and a couple companies of Aurgian mercenaries headed up by Queen Kamea’s son. But most of us are doctors, relief workers, farmers, and just about anyone who wanted to come and help, Colonel. Will you let us land and help you?”

Sung looked around the room, it was as if a weight had been lifted from her chest. One of the junior aides hissed “Ma’am. Can we really trust them? It’s a Davion trick!”

“No, it isn’t, Cheblinsky. The Davions needn’t have bothered with such subterfuge. Why lie? They know we’ll know soon enough. No, this is a damn godsend. We don’t have to fight a battle we cannot win. And we save our people.”

She turned again to the mic. “Comptroller, please ground your battalion at Freeport. We’ll send a small delegation to meet you there, including myself. I’ll be ordering all other units to remain in place.”

“I understand, Colonel. I’ll just bring my own command company in that case. No sense in spooking the hell out of everyone? ‘Mechs will remain on my dropship. My captain tells me we will ground in 35 minutes.”

“Thank You, Comptroller. I will meet you there in 45 minutes then.”

“Rodger that, Colonel. Hallaran out.”

45 Minutes Later

The dust kicked up by the hover jeep was light today, as a sandstorm had just blown through last night. Still, it was enough to force everyone to wear goggles in the open-topped vehicles, lest they get their eyes literally scratched out of their heads. A small gaggle came into view, with three flags standing in front of them. Sung could make out the standards, Aurigan, Canopean, and Taurian. They were limp in against their standards, but still, the colors of their flags made them unmistakable. And the uniforms are all wrong for Fedrats, or their Steiner lackeys.

The jeep came to a halt with a spray of sand, and as the turbine wound down, Sung practically leapt from the vehicle, her staff in tow. The central figure, wrapped in a shermagh, removed the lower half of it to reveal a craggy, but smiling face. “Colonel Sung? Good day to do the right thing, no?”

Sung nodded and smiled. “Yes Comptroller, it is. My people are starving. And I don’t think we have time for pleasantries.”

Hallaran nodded. “So, do you have any ground rules for us, Colonel?”

Sung laughed. “No, Welcome to Rollis. It seems you are our liberators. But I would recommend you set up shop first in New Harmon, the transportation network here is pretty awful except during trading festivals. And, we do have a problem with bandits raiding convoys around here.”

Hallaran smiled cooly “We can handle the bandits if you can keep a lid on your own people?”

Sung nodded. “I think, Comptroller, this is the beginning of a beautiful friendship.”

Hallaran’s smile went wide “And we like the same movies too. Yes, Colonel, we’re going to get along just fine.” He turned to an aide. “Get them down, Lenny. Let’s get to doing what we came here to do.”

The Taurian staff officer nodded and turned to an RTO, who began to read out rapid fire instructions to the ships still orbiting above.

“So, Comptroller. I happen to have been saving a bottle of fine 3000 Sian Whiskey for a special occasion. This I think qualifies?”

Hallaran nodded, it does, and I am damn thirsty. Tell me it’s Xiao Tung?”

Sung nodded with a smile of her own.

After an aide quickly produced a pair of paper cups, Sung gingerly poured the amber liquid, which was rich and played joyfully with the light.

“Colonel, shall we drink to Rollis. Her recovery and her future?”

Sung nodded, and they both knocked back their shots quickly. “Comptroller, I have to know one thing. Why?”

“Colonel, simple. The Confederation is falling apart. Who knows if or when it will reform? And what form it will take. Rollis, long ago, was once ours. Hasn’t been for a long time, but we couldn’t sit by and do nothing anymore. Not and call ourselves human beings. So, we put out the call. And we were a little surprised by who showed up.”

“We are too, Comptroller. But it’s bought my people their lives. And for that, Rollis, and my Cuirassiers will be forever grateful.”

While the buildup of Andurien troops along the Capellan border had been going on since May, no one expected the size of the offensive by the Anduriens into the dying Confederation. It was a surprise they had any armed forces at all to speak of after their abortive rebellion of 20-odd years before. The reaction to the move was, on the whole, mixed, with the Capellans protesting to the League, who shrugged and said they couldn’t reign them in, Home Defense Act and all. The FedCom’s response could be summed up as “Ok, but Sian is ours and stay the hell out of our way.” The rest of the Inner Sphere simply reacted with a collective shrug. Most other nations had their own troubles at the moment…”

• Whoops! An Irreverent View of the Politics of the War of ’56 by Dr. Anton Drake, Federated Academic Press, New Avalon, 3060

We told him it would happen! Why would he be shocked? I mean, he [Sun-Tsu] reads a damn holomap, right? (laughs manically) He really didn’t read the report we sent him. Not a surprise. He’s gone mad, you know. (subject screams in pain). WHAT! Like I am going to deny it now? I am a dead man. I am not walking out of here alive. No one does! So, kill me. Kill me and spare me the sight of the Fedrats and Andurien fighting over the dead husk of Sian!

• Taken from the Interrogation transcript of former Sub-Commander Tzhao Foon, FWL Desk, Maskirovka Analysis Section. August 19th, 3057. Sub-Commander Foon was interrogated for nineteen hours in the infamous “Iron Jade” Prison Complex in the Forbidden City on Sian after his arrest and was executed for treason three days later. The partial transcript, found damaged by fire, was found in the ruins of the prison on September 19th, 3057 by FC troops.

Operation Keravnos

Wave 1 (August-September 3057):

Betelgeuse
Attacking Forces: 1st Defenders of Andurien Regiment (Green Medium-weight ‘Mech regiment plus a brigade of combined arms troops), Burrow’s Crashing Thunder Regiment, and one battalion of three company sized mercenary units organized as 1st Provisional Battalion.

Defending Forces: 2 Battalions of Warrior House Kamata (1 Green and 1 Veteran Battalion), Betelgeuse Home Guard (3 combined arms regiments)

Results: The Capellan defenders fought with the strength of men possessed. House Kamata offered no quarter and asked for none, fighting to the last in a swirling mobile battle not far from the Andurien LZs. After eighteen hours of fighting, neither battalion of House Kamata was left, but they had dealt 40% casualties to the 1st Defenders of Andurien, and it had taken Burrow’s Crashing Thunder Regiment intervening to save the Defenders from complete collapse. Once House Kamata had been destroyed, the Home Guard surrendered the next day.

Sigma Mare
Attackers: 2nd Defenders of Andurien (Regular Medium weight ‘Mech regiment, and a combined arms brigade), St. Cyr Heavy Assault Regiment, Lone Star Regiment

Defenders: Sigma Mare Home Guard

Results: The defenders of Sigma Mare, cut off from any help, and not having had orders from Sian in months, surrendered after a short fight at the Andurien LZs.

Shiba
Attackers: 3rd Defenders of Andurien (Veteran Heavy weight ‘Mech regiment, and a combined arms brigade), Contessa’s Killers (Veteran Assault ‘Mech Battalion)

Defenders: Shiba Home Guard

Results: The defenders of Shiba tried to fight a mobile campaign, but they could not compete with the mobility of the 3rd who often pinned the Home Guard in place to be shattered by the Killers. Within a week, the Shiba Home Guard surrendered.

Niomede
Attackers: 4th Defenders of Andurien (Green Light-weight ‘Mech regiment, and a combined arms brigade).

Defenders: Niomede Home Guard

Results: The Niomede Home Guard made one disastrous attempt to hold the 4th short of the planetary capitol, facing them at the all-important crossing of the Shenpo river at Tivington. The defense of the bridge was successful for a week, until a battalion of Andurien hover tanks, backed by light mechs walking across the bottom, forced a crossing some six km downstream and flanked the Home Guard, destroying them in a two-day encirclement battle. Barely three battalions from the brigade strength home guard survived to surrender.
*****************************************

“THIS IS GREYJOY ACTUAL TO ALL CALLSIGNS. LAND THE LANDING FORCE AS PER OPTION BRAVO. RPT, LAND THE LANDING FORCE AS PER OPTION BRAVO. GOOD LUCK AND GOD SPEED.
Sent from Command Jumpship “FCN Journe’s Journey” to all allied callsigns in Sian space, August 19th, 3057

 

[CurtisLemay]

Excerpt from “Gotterdammerung in the Confederation” by Johan Vyborg, Coventry Press, 3061

“…the initial fight for Sian commenced on the 6th of August, 3057 (as opposed to the popular start of the battle on the 19th, when the actual landings commenced). The fight began with the arrival of 10 Federated Commonwealth RCTs in system, one of the largest assemblance of jumpships in recent memory, with some 600 aerospace fighters escorting the force in. (there were some attached “free aerospace wings taken from various Capellan March commands to ensure extra escort fighters for the drop). The FC forces arrived at the zenith and nadir points a bit disorganized, and spent the next day reorganizing their formations for the ten day burn into to the system mainworld.

The Capellans had half as many aerospace fighters as the FC forces. With the exception of the fighters from House Imarra, the Red Lancers, and some small units made up of instructor cadre from a variety of aerospace schools on planet, most were with low time pilots and were hastily trained and held in reserve for the defense of the planet. Their training consisted of little more than how to keep the fighter in the air, and were taught to ignore all else and go for the transports. This wound up with them becoming easy meat for the FC fighter pilots who were left wondering why their prey did not maneuver to save themselves.

In one tragic case on the 9th of August, a fēng bào zǔ or stormgroup, of 18 student pilots and two instructors from the Footnot Flight Academy took their F-10 Cheetahs launched a ramming attack on the dropships belonging to the 6th Syrtis Fusiliers. One of the fighters got through the fighter screen, and badly damaged the Union-Class dropship Eye of Mendham. The Eye of Mendham managed to offload most of her passengers and cargo before the onboard fires caused a massive structural failure, killing most of the crew. It was a foreshadowing of things to come.

By the time the FC achieved orbit on the 17th of August, the Capellan aerospace response was disjointed, and spent, with over half their fighters having been shot down, or too badly damaged to repair. The overall FC commander, Marshal Linda Archer, ordered that the aerospace forces suppress all aerospace fields, military and civilian within 300km of the dropzone on Wuhan. The two-day battle, saw moderate casualties among the FC aerospace forces, mostly due to ground fire. However, it managed to succeed in destroying most of the remaining Capellan aerospace units, as well as suppressing a fair amount of the Capellan IAD (integrated air defense) network.

Thus, on the 19th of August, the fateful order was given to ‘land the landing force’.”

Sian, Part 1
Attacking Forces: 6th Syrtis Fusiliers RCT, 1st Davion Guards RCT, 4th Davion Guards RCT, 3rd Crucis Lancers RCT, 6th Crucis Lancers RCT, 7th Crucis Lancers RCT, 1st Ceti Hussars RCT, 3rd Royal Guards RCT, Davion Light Guards RCT, 10th Deneb Light Cavalry RCT, 1st Federated Suns Armored Cavalry, 1st Kell Hounds, Jade Phoenix Cluster, 10 artillery brigades.

Defending Forces: House Immarra, Red Lancers, 4th Tau Ceti Rangers (battalion), WOBM 2nd Division, WOBM 3rd Division, 1st People’s Loyalty
Regiment (Regular/Fanatical regiment made up of comb outs and convalescents with battlemech experience, leavened with instructors from the Sian Center for Martial Disciplines, as well as survivors of several units destroyed during Active Panther). 1 battalion of Death Commandos. 3 combined arms divisions of the Sian Home Guard, and 150 “Victory Battalions” (75 of which are on Wuhan).

Results: The initial landings took place in and around Jade Lake, a major city some 50km from the ultimate objective of the Forbidden City itself. A coup de main on the Forbidden City was considered, but it was felt that the defenses were too strong for any coup de main force to hold for any appreciable length of time for a relief force to arrive. The initial landings were conducted by Combat Command Charlie, 1st Ceti Hussars, as well as Jade Phoenix Cluster. Initial contacts with the enemy were sporadic, mostly with light elements of “Peoples Victory Battalions” who were often caught in the process of mobilizing, and easily disarmed or dispersed. This lulled a lot of the FC troops into a false sense of security, and belied what was to come.

On the night of the 21st, as the Davion Light Guards began to probe towards Belin on State Highway Six towards the Forbidden city, Charlie company of the 1st Battalion ran into a major Capellan force consisting of Victory Battalions, Home Guard, and a company of Death Commandos who slipped in behind Charlie Company. A relief force consisting of most of Vanuvar’s Battalion of the 7th Crucis Lancers had to fight their way through a series of ambushes conducted by Home Guard and Victory Battalion elements, and took moderate casualties, but took until the next morning to relieve Charlie company. Charlie company had only 40% strength left, having had to fight off battalion sized infantry human wave attacks, as well as probing raids by enemy ‘Mechs piloted by some of the best ‘Mechwarriors in the Confederation.

The push for Belin continued, with the 3rd Royal Guards attempting to force a crossing across the Perfume river to the south and envelop the city or flank it and steal a march towards the Forbidden City. Both options went awry. First, the 3rd Royal Guards ran into fanatical resistance from Victory Battalion and Home Guard elements, reinforced by elements by a Level III of WOBM. It took six critical hours to force the crossing, and the lead ‘Mech battalion of the 3rd took 25% casualties. The advance down State Highway Six fared little better, with the 7th barely making any progress against elements of the Death Commandos, as well as dug in Home Guardsmen and Victory Battalion members. Often, it took brute force and copious amounts of firepower to shift the fanatical Capellans from their positions, but the FC eventually won the fight. The FC’s air dominance also helped, as it paralyzed Capellan troop movements by day, and forced them into a more positional strategy than the military situation dictated.

But, the Capellans were in dire straits. Capellan casualties were mounting, and supplies were running low, as the first two days of fighting had burned off some 40% of the on-planet ammunition reserve. There was talk amongst the remaining elements of the Strategios of using “special weapons” to redress the balance and buy time for reinforcements to arrive, but House Master Ion Rush asked famously “Where are there enough warriors left in the Confederation to do more than welcome their new masters? We are it.” Of course, no one mentioned this to the increasingly mad Sun-Tsu Liao, who demanded increasingly detailed briefings on the military situation, and often interfered in military decisions daily.



State Farming Complex Nineteen
28km from the Forbidden City
Sian
Capellan Confederation
August 23rd, 3057

Been a shitty time here on Sian, right from the damn start. Sergeant Ben Doorman reflected. His Packrat had been ordered out by the troop commander of the RCT to go “find Capellans and call artillery on them.” While such orders are usually a license for most scouts to have fun and raise hell, on Sian, it was a good way to die. There was a lot of IEDs and vibromines left around, and depending on who laid them, there might or might not be a minefield sketch to capture or interrogate out of someone.

His Packrat had been modified, and sported a pair of machine guns and a Beagle Probe vice the SRM-6in a hastily designed turret. They’d also moved the flamer to the front of the vehicle. He loved the Probe, but he wasn’t so damn sure about the SRM-6 being removed. At least they added some bar armor to make up the difference with the damn Capellan V-LAWs. I’ve had everyone and their granny shoot the damn things at me.

He swung the turret and did a sweep of the barn and the outbuildings again. So far, the probe hadn’t picked anything up. They were trailing behind an infantry screen of seven or so troopers from their own vehicle and had advanced through the open spaces of the farm using what cover they could find. But they’d stayed the hell away from the buildings. All we need is some patriotic Capellan kid or farmhand with a Molotov and an upper floor window. I saw that happen to Bellamy in that village last week. Still can’t get the memory of the screams over the troop radio net out of my head.
We haven’t taken a lot of prisoners yet. So far, the resistance has been either non-existent, or do-or-die fanatical. Nothing in-between. I guess these folks believe we’ve come to carry off their daughters, enslave their menfolk, and eat their babies. And the worst of it is? I really don’t have the time nor inclination to make them believe otherwise. At least I didn’t have to shoot any kids. Some guys in the infantry companies had had to do that. Not sitting well with some of them, so I hear.

He glanced at the Beagle display again. A pair of dots appeared, then more, all centered around the outbuildings. Shit! Before he could shout a warning, a pair of green luminescent fingers reached out towards the infantry, one man being cut in half by a torrent of large caliber rounds, another going down after being caught by two rounds in the chest that the body armor didn’t even stop. A flash then erupted from the room of the barn, a white finger of rocket exhaust stretched out towards the Packrat, which violently lurched to the left and increased speed to avoid the projectile. It overshot the vehicle, and exploded ten meters behind it, the Packrat was at speed now, hitting every bump and undulation in the ground with a violent slam to the occupants of the vehicle.

Doorman hurriedly slew the turret with a while of protesting hydraulics and snapped off a long burst from the linked machine guns. The staccato burst of the firing sounded like a jackhammer, punctuated by the tinkle of spent brass and links being ejected from the guns. Red tracer ripped out like fingers of death in the general direction of the V-LAW shot, the impacts tearing holes into the barn, and sending pieces of wood flying. The surviving infantry dropped prone and added their own weapons to the cacophony, the barn disappearing into a cloud of shattered wood and dust.
Doorman clicked the intercom “Buley, get us within flamer range of the Barn and outbuildings. We’re gonna torch these fuckers.”

“Merkurs, get your scouts tossing smoke and covering me, I am going to torch these buildings and flush these bastards before we lose anyone else, clear?”

“Roger that, boss, try not to die, it’s a long walk home, over.”

“Wilco, Merkurs.”

A small white smoke screen soon blossomed between the buildings and the infantry. The tendrils snaked with the wind, but it did a decent job obscuring things between them and the Capellans. It was on the longish edge of flamer range, but it would have to do. Doorman reflected. He just hoped the Capellans were out of V-LAWs and weren’t trying to suck him in close before firing the next one.

“Ok, Buley, hug the smoke so we can burn that fucking barn!”

The vehicle lurched again, and took off at full speed, bounding over every bump in the ground, shaking Doorman hard, even with the six-point restraints. They pulled up short of the barn, the infantry pouring fire into it to keep the heads down of whomever was in there.

Doorman squeezed the trigger for the flamer, and a gout of flame shot out from the front of the vehicle. The fire hissed and popped like a living, hungry thing as it licked the side of the barn, igniting it within seconds. Doorman gave it another three second burst for good measure, but the barn was fully involved.

Before long, one of the windows burst open, and a woman jumped from the top of the barn, aflame from head to toe. She hit the ground and didn’t get back up. Another figure came out the open barn doors…screaming, but Doorman couldn’t hear what was being said. This one was smaller, obviously a child with a rifle strapped to their back…they too were aflame, their arms flailing as they ran. Suddenly, they dropped like a poleaxed steer. Shit, please tell me there’s not more kids in the other-

A series of sparks and pings erupted from the Packrat as multiple small arms rounds hit the vehicle. A flash then erupted from the building, and the Packrat shuddered, then filled with smoke. Buley was screaming on the intercom. “Fuck! My arm…It’s gone Sarge, it’s gone!” Doorman slammed back a long burst from the machine guns, then grabbed his bailout kit and radio, diving out the infantry bay hatches to the rear. He had to get to the front of the vehicle before…

As he stepped out he realized there was no hope for Buley, the front of the vehicle was aflame, the rocket had arced over the bar armor..and hit the front hydrogen tank for the reactor. Buley was burning alive, and Doorman could do little about it, except run before the hydrogen detonated, so, Doorman took off at a dead run and flopped down to Merkurs.

Merkurs looked at him unceremoniously, “So, we calling for air or artillery?”

“Artillery, I am gonna flatten the shit out of this place.”

Doorman turned his attention to the radio “Stingray Two-Seven to Thor Four-Four, we need fire support at gridref RF11782434, need contact HE, three salvos, danger close, over..”

 

[CurtisLemay]

Death Throes, Part 2
​

“..As the fighting on Sian began it’s final, blood-soaked orchestra of death, the rest of the Confederation dealt with the final stages of the collapse of central authority. While the Word of Blake did manage to keep the HPG network going, often right up till the very last moments, many civil servants and government or military officials fled one step ahead of enemy troops or starving mobs. Many vanished overnight as August led into September, reappearing in as far-flung places such as Alpheratz or Cormadir.
“Some however, were too slow, the brutal slaughter of the entire ruling family of Prix by a hungry mob numbering 60,000 triggered a wholesale flight of all those who had anything to do with the government and who had the means to flee. Anyone who stayed wound up sharing the fates of the Prixian royal family, who had their beaten and broken bodies left dangling from lamp posts…”

• “pp. 191, Collapse of the Capellan Nation State, Andrew Ling, Outworlds Press, 3065”

Apartment 335
Gardens Apartments
Pawhuska City
Decatur
Capellan Confederation
September 9th, 3057

Xu Chi hurriedly packed his bag as he kept one eye on the holovid, the official news hadn’t been on in three days. What was on…was something out of a nightmare. They’d broadcast the show trial and execution of the entire planetary ruling family. Just hung them from lampposts, with the Refractor cheering them on! Probably trying to avoid his own turn at the gallows, the swine!

Chi was a minor official for the Ministry of Trade and Exchange. His job was to write information security policy for the Capellan Commodities Exchange. That hadn’t meant a damn thing since the Davions had taken Capella. The orders from Sian had become increasingly meaningless as the Capellan economy went into free-fall. It wasn’t long before Chi’s boss locked himself in his office one day and shot himself with his old service pistol. That had been a week ago, and it had been Chi’s last day at work. It wasn’t popular to admit you were a government official, of any government. Mobs of former Home Guardsmen, angry servitors, and basic trainees from the Duchy RTC were roaming the streets, wearing orange armbands and hard looks.

Anyone associated with the Capellan State, workers, officials, and their families were being hauled up, given the barest pretense of a trial by an angry mob, and shot. The killing had gone on for at least four days, since the palace had been stormed by a mob numbering in the thousands. They’d captured the ruling family, and slaughtered the guards, the ones that had survived long enough to surrender. But what had motivated the riot and orgy of violence? It was a simple protest. It was the ordinary people demanding their rights to food and medicine, as guarantees under the Capellan constitution. They were only asking for what was due. But the problem was? The government didn’t have any food or medical care to give. Everything of that nature that was left, was going to the military and security services. Whole worlds like Decatur, which was mostly water, and overpopulated for the available landmass, were facing a slow die off from the lack of available food, or medical supplies. And anyone associated with the Capellan government was getting the blame. Who could blame them, Sun-Tsu had promised them victory, he’d delivered them death, defeat, and deprivation?

Chi had gotten a line on a small freighter leaving the Decatur system for Canopus by way of Rollis. He’d already destroyed everything having to do with the office and his former life, having burned it last night in the parking garage. He’d hoped no one had seen him do it, his neighbors were desperate for the food reward one got for turning in government officials and their families. It didn’t help the land lady was an evil go-se. He’d sold pretty much all of the family valuables to afford the exorbitantly expensive seats on the dropship. Chi checked his chrono. Two hours till departure, ought to be enough time, the dropport is only ten blocks from here. Nice brisk walk, and the weather’s decent. Now just make sure nobody who knows me is out and about.

Chi made for the door, and took a long look at the apartment, he was leaving a life behind. His moderately expensive entertainment center, a decently (for the time and place) stocked refrigerator, and a decent set of furniture. How will I survive being a refugee? He didn’t know, but he gripped the small, hard object in his jeans pocket. My father’s old backup pistol from his days as a ‘Mechwarrior. Glad I kept it. Even if I could have gotten in a lot of trouble for having it. Chi grabbed a non-descript black ball cap with the logo of a local sports team on the front. He shook his head, and slung his bag over his shoulder, and stepped through the door without a second thought.

Chi made his way into the hall and glanced both ways. The hall was dimly lit, only one of the four ceiling light panels was working, and there was trash all over the hall, discarded liquor bottles, propaganda broadsheets from the “provisional government” proclaiming a “New Dawn” for Decatur, and to be “on the lookout for traitors from the old regime.” Chi gingerly walked, trying not to make a sound. He’d left the holovid going, as he figured someone would come looking for him sooner or later. Let them think I am still there, I can be well and truly gone before they realize I am not. He gingerly made his way through the debris strewn hall, and to the stairwell, then crept down the stairs and into the lobby.

The lobby itself was a riot of ruined furniture, more debris, and a sleeping Home Guardsman face down on the couch, his rifle propped up against the couch, his orange armband prominently displaying his loyalty to Decatur’s new masters, whomever they were. That changed with the dawn of each new day as the “revolution” ate its children with alarming regularity. Chi crept by, each step sounding twenty times louder than it probably was. But the Guardsman did not stir. Chi got a better look at him. His almond features were barely old enough to shave. He was unkept, his uniform had stains of blood, and mud, and his boots had a dried brown-grey paste on the soles. There was a smell of vomit, and an empty bottle of a brand of cheap rice wine was askew on the floor next to the couch. Good fortune, this young man is drunk off his ass. His friends aren’t here. Chi took two loping steps for the doors and used his shoulder to open them as he dashed through to the street.

The sights assailed his senses. To his left, several cars were on fire, one was in the middle of the street, a pair of piles of rags covered in blood lay on either side of the vehicle. I don’t think those are piles of rags, Chi thought. To his right, a man swung slowly from a nearby lamp post. A plastic placard was hung around his neck, and it said in Chinese, “Mask informer and parasite of the people.” The dead man’s face had turned black, and his face was twisted in a rictus of pain and fear. Chi gasped, I cannot waste time, and I have to make my way to the dropport.

Chi walked calmly in the direction of the dropport, broken glass and gravel crunching under his feet. The smell of smoke and the sounds of gunfire and screams filled the air. Around him, however, the streets were eerily empty, except for the sounds of flames licking at burning cars, or the occasional building. Bodies lay everywhere like puppets with their strings cut. The smell of burning flesh assailed Chi’s nostrils as he continued to walk. He tried not to linger on the sights too long, less his outrage revealed him to some unseen observer.

Chi’s footsteps echoed the empty streets, as his feet broke into a run, his fear carrying him to the drop port. But, the sight of the entry signs to the drop port stopped him short. The sight instead of easing his fear, gripped his heart firmly and gave him a start. The gate was filled with orange arm banded militiamen. They were in various stages of inebriation, no doubt assisted by the Jade Plum brand rice wine, of which there was copious bottles of in the street. Six or seven bodies lay strewn around the entrance to the dropport, their lifeblood staining the ground from multiple gunshot wounds. Their clothes suggested all of the victims were male, and civilian, or at least dressed in civilian clothes.

Oh no, what do I do? Brazen it out? Run? Walk away? Chi lingered a second two long. One or two of the milling militiamen noticed him, and shouted for him to come over, their faces contorted into drunken, angry scowls. One pulled a pistol and pointed it at Chi, who promptly dropped his bag and took off at a dead run. Several puffs of disturbed dirt and concrete erupted around him to mark missed bullets, as Chi screamed incoherently. He then felt a blow from behind, toppling over and sent sprawling. A pain spread from his back and suddenly, he felt so tired. No, I am so close, so close. His vision began to blur, and he heard the crunch of gravel and a smattering of cruel laughter. A metallic sound soon echoed through his fading hearing. There was a flash, and then Chi saw or felt nothing at all, ever again.
_____________________________________________________________________________________

“Operation Kervanos was at it’s core, a lash-up of an operation. The Duchy of Andurien were lucky in that the CCAF was not anywhere near the top of its form, and that the goals of the operation were limited. But with the near-reverse of fortune on Betelgeuse, the Andurien general staff revised the plans still further and only hit three worlds in the second wave. This did little to endear the general staff with the troops in the field, who felt they could have driven as far as Homestead…”

• “Operation Kervanos, an Operational Appraisal”, by Force Commander Alan Thyme, FWLM (Ret), for Issue 219, Vol 18 of the Military History Quarterly, Military History Press, Terra, 3061

Operation Kervanos, Wave 2

Wave 2 (September-October 3057)

Kasdach
Attacking Forces: 2nd Defenders of Andurien, St. Cyr Heavy Assault Regiment, Lone Star Regiment

Defending Forces: Kadsach Home Guard

Results: The Kadsach Home Guard surrendered without a shot fired, many on world were happy to greet Andurien troops rather than Federated Commonwealth ones.


Dicon
Attacking Forces: 3rd Defenders of Andurien, Contessa’s Killers

Defending Forces: Dicon Home Guard

Results: The Dicon Home Guard fought with the strength of the desperate and the doomed. They only had a combined arms brigade to hold off the Andurien force, and their ten days of resistance inflicted 10% casualties on the 3rd Defenders of Andurien, but Contessa’s Killers consistently crushed nest after nest of Home Guard resistance. The two surviving battalions surrendered after ten days of resistance.

Buenos Aires
Attacking Forces: 4th Defenders of Andurien

Defending Forces: Buenos Aires Home Guard

Results: A breadbasket world that fed a third of the Confederation, it fell to the Home Guard to defend the world, as it’s regular garrison, the 3rd Battalion of Ishihara’s Grenadiers was destroyed on Manapire earlier in the war. The Home Guard was division-sized, with an integral battlemech battalion made up of mostly 3rd Succession War era gear. The rest of the division was equipped with obsolete equipment, some of it dating back to the 2nd Succession War. However, it’s numbers, and mobilization of at least ten “People’s Victory Battalions” allowed it to have the numbers to counteract the 4th’s superior mobility.

Much of the fighting took place on the planetary land mass, thus sparing most of the sprawling farms that were either underground, or on floating aqua colonies. But, the 4th was soon penned into its LZ, lacking the firepower to break out, as the Home Guard penned in the Andurien troops, but they lacked the firepower to break through the 4th’s perimeter. Both sides soon settled in and waited for help. The Andruiens reinforced first, with Burrow’s Crashing Thunder Regiment arriving on the 15th of October, and performing an avalanche drop onto the western sector of the static perimeter and smashing the Home Guard out of the way. Before long, both regiments had broken out, and managed to cut apart, encircle, and destroy major elements of the Home Guard, with the survivors retreating under pressure to the capital. After another 16 days of brutal house-to-house fighting, the Andurien flag was raised over the Ducal Palace and the surviving Home Guard elements surrendered.

Casualties for the Andurien forces were heavy, with the 4th having taken 30% casualties, and Burrows having lost 20%. Most of the losses were material and were made good by the middle of November.

_______________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

Lagrange Point
Corodiz
Capellan Confederation
September 14th, 3057

“I haven’t been able to reach anyone on the surface, sir.” the Sergeant said, her face creased with worry.

“Keep trying, Sergeant, I’d rather we didn’t have to shoot our way in if we can help it. For all we know, the FedCom beat us there?” Comptroller James Hallaran grimaced. He’d not thought much of the orders to probe towards Corodiz. He'd not thought much of the orders to probe towards Corodiz, it had been an Tauran world at one point, but that had been centuries ago. Can someone please tell me what the hell the Protector is thinking, or why Marshal Doru let him talk him into it? With our luck, the Capellans are rotating units from here into the fighting on Yuris. Held up the Davions for a month. Lord knows, that’s a miracle in and of itself considering the state the Confederation is in. But the fact nobody’s responding to our messages? We’re only 4 days out from landfall at the jump point? Something’s not right here. Something bad.

A naval officer, wearing the rank of a Captain floated over to him, his ebon face was creased with worry, and his eyes bore the strain of command and the additional half a gee of thrust they’d been enduring since they cleared the jump point a day ago.

“Comptroller, something worse. We’ve been in the system a day, and no one from any kind of traffic control or anything else has tried to contact us. We’re getting the automatic nav aids just fine, but I can’t raise a single controller. Our long-range telescopes don’t detect any nuclear clouds or anything like that, but this is goddamned strange, and scary.”

“And we’re the only ships in system?” Hallaran asked.

“That we can detect, but orbital space is big, real big, and even an “intervention” force such as ours can be alone until we insert into planetary orbit at times. But we should have been hearing some kind of signals from the ground. As it is, we’re hearing nothing.

“SHIT!” the Sergeant cursed. “Sirs, you gotta hear this. I think we got our answer.” The sergeant’s face was blank and a sheet of white, her green eyes wide with horror. She held out a pair of headphones to Hallaran. “It’s audio only, sir.”

Hallaran nodded and took the headphones.

“To all traffic entering the Corodiz system, this is a quarantine warning. Corodiz is currently suffering a pandemic of what has been identified as a variant of the Edison White Flu. The virus is highly contagious and can be spread through both human saliva, as well as airborne means. The virus has a morbidity rate of 65% and has left 25% of those who have survived with various kinds of neural and brain damage. Do not land on Corodiz. We will not acknowledge any attempt to communicate, turn around and leave our system. We do not wish to infect you. Please pray for us.”

Hallaran grimaced as the message began to repeat. “Jesus, they have a fully blown pandemic down there. So, do we turn around, or do we offer aid, Captain?”

“Don’t you think we should consult with the rest of the task force leaders, sir?”

“I plan to, but seeing as how you are one of them, I wanted your take?”

The captain nodded “Sir, we can’t risk it. If this bug is as virulent as they say? We’re going to have a ship full of dead men before we get back to Rollis. And God help us if this gets back to the Concordat.”

Hallaran nodded, he was thinking of turning around anyhow. This was just too damn risky. But did the Davions do this? He’d been hearing their rhetoric since the terror attacks on New Avalon and elsewhere, but this? It just didn’t seem in character. Perhaps Dr. Reyes will have a better idea of what the hell we’re dealing with here.

“Captain, hold the task force here until we have a better handle on what the hell is going on, and what the hell we’re going to do about it.”

___________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

Yuris

Attackers: Team Banzai, Lexington Combat Group (all three regiments), 41st Avalon Hussars RCT

Defenders: House Diadachi, Metal Phalanx Mercenary Battalion, Yuris Home Guard

Results: As the fighting on Yuris ground on, Warrior House Diadachi and the Home Guard went to ground, fighting a guerilla campaign that managed to pin down 5 Davion regiments and wreak a measure of havoc. The Metal Phalanx was not so lucky, and in its own attempt to go into hiding, was discovered and smashed in an 18-hour running fight with Team Banzai. The survivors surrendered the next morning.

________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________
6 months before

Astech Joshua Ford had been worked quite hard in the last three weeks, word had come down from the powers that be that the 5th FedCom RCT was leaving Tsingtang to be moved to New Syrtis to increase security and force protection for various infrastructure targets on world. This was a necessity with all of the Syrtis Fusilier regiments off world either fighting Capellans or mopping up Falcon and Viper die-hards in the Tamar March. New Syrtis had been nervous since the terror attacks that had opened the conflict, including the one that had put Morgan Hasek-Davion in a coma, and killed his wife, Kym Sorenson.

It’s why Ford was inwardly smiling. He hadn’t always been Joshua Ford. Ford at the end of the day was just another identity he cast off like a pair of dirty socks. He’d be disappearing before the regiment boosted off-world. He just had a small gift to leave behind first.

He looked up at the FSS Unity, an ovoid, Union-class Dropship with room for 12 BattleMechs and a crew of 14. She had seen better days, she had scorch marks and rain marks galore, a souvenir of multiple re-entries and hard atmospheric use. Her thrust bells were burnt black from hard use as well. And when Ford passed an open personnel hatch, he smelled that “Union smell” which could only be described as a mix between old socks, spoiled milk, and body odor in a horrific mélange that made any non-ship personnel or MechWarriors gag.

Ford was a known entity amongst the tech crews, having joined the unit with forged orders from a small technical college on Salem that had a good reputation. In truth, Ford had never been to Salem. He’d had technical training, of course. The Maskirovka had trained him for just this sort of thing. The Death Commandos think they have a monopoly on mayhem. They really should think again. They’re so…unsubtle.

Ford made his way up the gangplank with little effort and waved jauntily to a tech crew that was struggling with a circuitry panel down an adjoining hall. The smell was now mixed with the sounds of large tools, and acetylene as a welder worked on a hull patch for a small leak down the hall from Ford. The welder soon stopped their work, pitched back her helmet, her auburn hair in a ponytail tumbling back as she smiled at Ford. Her shape was hidden under the slate blue coveralls, with a faded 5th FedCom patch on her right breast. I do happen to know how pleasing that shape is, however. Ford smiled inwardly as he remembered their first date.

“Hiya Ford. So, we still on for dinner later?”

“Yes, Marks, we are. I am looking forward to this new place you discovered downtown.”

Poor Marks, she has no idea she’s going to be so useful in my escape. Doubly shame you are going to have to die for that, but things cannot be avoided. Should keep Davion counterintelligence guessing till I can make my escape back across the border. That said, the “device” should not activate until I am well away.

“Marks, I hate to cut this short, but I have to be going, gotta check some functionality issues with the flight control software. Master Tech Hardwell is getting ancy about making sure the RCT is ready to boost on time.”

Marks nodded. “Gotcha, She’s been a real bear. Maybe she’ll let up once we’re in space?”

Ford shook his head no “I doubt it, probably have us polishing and making the ‘Mechs look sparkling. Gotta impress the Acting Duke you know!”

Both shared a chuckle, as Marks waved Ford off.

Ford made his way to the Flight Control main data bus, situated right under the bridge, and plugged in a small 10cm square black box, and then pushed a button, which uploaded a program from the single use hard drive Ford had plugged in. The small light on the box turned from a solid red, then blinked, and then after a few seconds, turned green. It wasn’t long before the light blinked out. Good, the drive just scrubbed itself. Now time to get to work doing what I was assigned to do.

Ford deftly unplugged the drive, then smiled as he broke out his diagnostic tools to find the fault in the RCS software code. The code he’d inserted was simple and would activate randomly once it detected the main drive had been activated. And it would all look like a horrible accident, at least long enough for Ford to get clear of Tsingtang. And I will make sure this Dropship doesn’t serve the Davions anymore. If we’re really lucky, they’ll ground a bunch more fearing this is a widespread fault in the entire fleet! Subtle, simple, and helps the Capellan state.
___________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________
“New Syrtis Deep Space, this is dropship FSS Unity, we have a cargo of 12 mechs for the 5th Fedcom aboard, and we are declaring an emergency, we have cleared atmo and we have lost all RCS function, and we have an engine fire. Please advise.”

“FSS Unity, do you have any steering, over?”

“Negative, we are coming down like a rock, and our ‘Mechs are not in the drop cradles, over?”

“Unity, I am scrambling fighters from Hasek Aerospace Field, you know what they have orders to do if you cannot get control back in the next two minutes. Your impact is projected to be downtown Saso city.”

“Understood New Syrtis. I am getting my boys and girls to the pods, I am staying, my ship, my responsibility.”

“Say souls aboard Unity?”

“Including the ‘jocks and techs? 57. We’re ejecting now. Get those fighters here soonest, New Syrtis. I’ve lost all helm in this ship, and we’re about 20,000 meters AGL and falling like a rock…”

• Transcripts of radio communication between FSS Unity and New Syrtis Deep Space Control, September 19th, 3057, taken from the official accident investigation. The FSS Unity lost all RCS and main thrust control on approach to Saso spaceport. She impacted in the suburbs of Saso city, scoring a direct hit on Hasek Memorial Hospital, killing another 350 and injuring 500, among the dead was Morgan Hasek-Davion, who was in a coma being treated in the hospital’s ICU. It would be revealed post war that the cause of the accident was Maskirovka sabotage of the flight computer during a routine A level check.

 

[CurtisLemay]

Sian’s Agony, Part 2

“Minor spoiling attacks against the Davion spearheads have continued to little if any effect. We expect the final Davion assault on the Forbidden City will begin on or around the 10th of October.”

Excerpt from Strategos War Diary, September 26th, 3056


State Highway 9
35km East of Benin, Wuhan Continent
Sian
Capellan Confederation
September 24th, 3057

Dong Aslanov was tired. He’d been in a muddy morass of a stinking hole in the ground that had been charitably called a fighting position for ten days now. He was no soldier, he stood barely 1.5 meters tall, and weighed 59 kilos, soaking wet. He was picked last for team sports, and he was never without his inhaler for his ever-present asthma. His Adam’s apple was the most prominent feature on his almond skinned face, other than his soda bottle like glasses, with their thick lenses to make up for his awful eyesight. His light almond shaded skin was now almost white from the fear that was now ever-present in Dong’s life. Another batch of enemy shells landed some distance to his left, announcing their arrival with a loud CRUMP. Dong flinched, making sure his Sergeant didn’t see, and beat him with his bamboo cane again for “showing un-Capellan behavior.”

Yet someone had handed him 25 kilos worth of gear, a 4-kilo rifle, and topped it off with a helmet that was nearly a kilo that left him with near permanent neck pain. He’d sworn he’d lost a few centimeters in height just being weighed down with all the gear they’d handed him. It stunk from the smells of mildew, and the stale air of the warehouse it had been kept in. The two-kilometer road march alone to the charitably named “Sun-Tsu Line” had nearly killed him, and the one-armed Home Guardsman who was the appointed minder for his class had done little more than reinforce the bullying he’d already gotten from his classmates on a regular basis. “Davionist scum” and “weakling” were two of Sergeant Xu’s favorites.

He’d been paired with another boy, Yong Guo. He was even smaller than Dong, if it could be believed, and was a seventh-year student at the Wuhan Eastern District Intermediate School. He too was often bulled by his classmates, but he’d done better on the road march, helping Dong through the worst of it. But that had been three days ago. Yong had gone to answer a call of nature one night, and he hadn’t returned. Dong had hoped he’d ran off. Someone needs to survive this. Someone needs to tell the story of this criminal waste of our young lives. I am only thirteen, and I don’t want to die, especially not here in some farmer’s field, where I’ll simply be shoved into some mass grave by the Davions and forgotten about.

Dong thought of his family. His father had been a tank commander with the 1st Ariana Grenadiers during the 4th Succession War, but he’d surrendered, and upon his repatriation to the Confederation, was made a servitor. His mother was a seamstress, who was also made a servitor, and the family barely made enough to survive in the slums of Benin. And now I’m being asked to die for a state that barely acknowledges my father’s sacrifice. And if I say as much? I will be shot by that petty tyrant in the name of a Chancellor who has led us to ruin.

Dong continued to watch his sector till he felt a hard WHACK to the rear of his helmet, the impact drove his helmet over his eyes and sent Dong sprawling into the front wall of his “position.” His rifle slipped from his hands and fell into the muck at his feet. Sergeant Xu, he’s come to torment me again.

Xu jumped jauntily into Don’s position, then turned Dong around roughly to face him. Xu was an ugly man, with a face like a pig even before it had been turned into a cobweb of scars and burns. Half of his teeth were gone, and the rest were stained with the brown residue of someone who was a habitual faisal root user. But his uniform, even in this muck and blood, was immaculate. As his father put it, Xu was the kind of sergeant the officers loved, and the men hated.

"Èr bǎi wǔ! Dong, you are a useless fool. Your mother shamed the state giving birth to someone as weak as you. cào nǐ mā! Well, you might redeem yourself anyway, you scrawny little loser. We’re being asked to attack the Davions to relieve pressure on our brave ‘Mechwarriors to the south of there. All you have to do boy, is fix your bayonet, and listen for the whistle. Then, proceed towards the Davion lines as fast as you can manage, preferably not tripping over your own two feet, you oaf. Then, if you can manage it, see if you can kill a Davion before you die? The state’s asking each of you scrawny bastards kill five, but with you, Dong? I’ll be happy if you manage one.” Xu punctuated his last point by hocking up a glob of plant matter and mucous and spitting it on Dong’s boot. He shook his head. “Clean that up, and clean up your rifle, be glad I don’t beat you for dropping it. We jump off in thirty minutes, so I don’t have the time. But I expect you to remind me so I can administer the proper corrective action later, you fool.”

Xu shook his head again and lifted himself out of Dong’s hole, whistling the theme to a particularly odious bit of State entertainment programming on the Tri-V that had been popular a decade ago. Dong wanted to cry with frustration, or shoot Xu, he hadn’t decided. What’s the worst they do, hang me? At least I don’t get pulped beyond recognition by some Davion ‘Mech. He reached for the buttstock of his weapon and pulled out his cleaning kit, and began to clean his rifle as best as he could, with an oily rag, and a rusty pull through, the rifle itself coming apart a little too easily for Dong’s taste. He’d remembered the five rounds they’d all been allowed to fire before they’d left on their march to the front. He had barely managed to hit the 100-meter target, and every shot seemed to threaten to have the ancient rifle come apart in his hands. I suppose it was better than that poor kid they saddled with the Light Machine Gun, he had to break open his weapon to reload it with a damn hammer.

The waiting was the worst part, worse than the food, which tasted lousy, and there was never enough of. Or the sludge they called coffee, which one had to choke down with some of the ration biscuits. Why bother to feed us well? We’re not going to live out the week anyhow? He heard the base roar of an artillery piece going off behind him some distance to the rear, then another, and finally, several more had picked up into a steady rhythm. A high-pitched whine drew his eyes upwards as he saw a quartet of Mechbuster fighters pass overhead, their wings laden with ovoid shaped bombs and inferno canisters. I haven’t seen any of our fighters since this all began…where the hell have they been?

Dong felt a small sliver of hope. If they were getting a modicum of air and artillery support for this attack, maybe, just maybe there was a chance he might walk away from this? Maybe this was the beginning of the counterattack that would save Sian!? Dong’s thoughts were interrupted by the shrill cry of Xu’s whistle, it was time. A roar erupted from the throats of Dong’s platoon, equal parts angry, and afraid as they left from their fighting positions, barely seconds after the artillery lifted.

Dong broke into a trot, his rifle held level with his waist, his bayonet gleaming off of the early morning sun, rising in the east, behind the attackers. Please let it blind a Davion machine gunner or two. The platoon of grey-green clad men and women shook out into a rough formation, their trot kicking up dust and clods of turf as they moved ever closer to the Davion outpost line, the ruined obstacles of tanglefoot barbed wire and cheval de frise resolving themselves ever clearer with every step Dong took. His breath became bits of steam in the early morning air, as he began to break into a run. Perhaps the Davions are all dead, perhaps-

Dong’s dreams of victory died on the lips of his mind as red fingers of death reached out from the Davion outpost line and speared the girl next to him in a gout of blood and viscera. She was literally torn apart by at least a dozen rounds. The ground around Dong exploded, and all became dust and smoke as he was literally thrown to the ground, his helmet gone flying. Jesus, we’ve walked into an enemy kill sack!

The Davion mortars were methodical, they worked the entire attack over from left to right, anyone who bunched up immediately invited attack, and anyone who was still standing got attention from the machine guns, which sent the survivors spinning to the ground in sprays of blood and flesh. Screams and moans filled the air.

One boy, Kaganov, who had boasted how tough he was, well, he wasn’t so tough now, he was trying to hold his intestines in as he screamed for his mother. There was nothing that could be done for him. Sergeant Xu walked up to him, and ended his torment with a single pistol shot to the head, but put two more into his chest for good measure.

Xu looked around, other than a bit of mud and dust on his uniform, he was unfazed. He screamed “Get up and follow me if you’re still alive. The Chancellor, and I expect this attack to succeed as long as one of you live!”

Surprisingly, Dong didn’t even think about it. He shook himself, grabbed his rifle, and got up with the rest of the screaming throng, shouting an incoherent guttural roar that was probably supposed to sound patriotic, but really betrayed the fact everyone was probably just screaming it to feel less afraid then they probably were.

The Davion mortar fire had ceased, but the machine guns and now rifle fire was picking more and more of the Capellan attack, thinning their numbers ever more as they closed the distance. Dong was somehow, still alive. Nine hells, I may live through this! I may- It was then the slight ground tremor was felt, and the ominous, rhythmic thumping was heard. It could only mean one thing. Battlemech. Oh no, it’s coming from the Davion line! It’s one of- The ground crashed as a jet of flame appeared some 100 meters to Dong’s front and a humanoid mech, whose arms ended in brass nozzles landed in a semi-crouch. The ‘Mech was in a woodland camo scheme, but the unit insignia was unmistakable, that of the Davion Light Guards, and worse, it was a Firestarter.

Several men and women in Dong’s platoon broke and ran just seeing their worst nightmare, no sane person wanting to be burned alive. Xu shot the nearest one with his pistol screaming “You won’t get far, traitors! The Mask’s got Special Loyalty Battalions waiting for you!” But Xu had drawn attention to himself, and the Firestarter soon loped over to a spot some 40 meters away from him, and fired one of it’s Flamers. Xu disappeared in a torrent of superheated flame, being cooked to dust in a near instant, but not before his horrified scream was cut short.

This broke the resolve of the remaining Capellans, who promptly fled towards their own lines, tossing away rifles, web gear, helmets, anything that slowed them down. There was now a lance of Davion ‘Mechs now, firing machine guns and flamers into any Capellan that stopped running. Dong took off for his own lines in a dead run, his helmet and rifle left behind as just things that would slow him down, when he heard a cry to his left.

It was a young woman, Cassandra Lu. She had been Dong’s lab partner in school, back when that had mattered. She was a lithe, short girl, with jet black hair, and glasses that took up a good chunk of her face. She was as Dong put it “nerd beautiful.” But now, her left leg had been traumatically amputated below the knee, shards of bone were protruding from the wound, and crimson ichor pumped like a hose, as she whimpered and cried in what could only be serious amounts of pain. Dong stopped, and ran over to Cassandra. He smiled at her, “Hi Cassie, need a lift?”

“Yes,” she said through gritted teeth “Please get me out of here, I don’t want to burn!” Dong nodded and grabbed the front of Cassie’s tunic in an attempt to try a fireman’s carry. But he suddenly noticed the footfalls of the ‘Mechs getting louder. And then, a metallic sounding voice echoed throughout the plain:

“HANDS UP CAPPIE, OR I AM GOING TO BURN YOU!”​

Dong turned, he saw the Firestarter was now at the apex of a triangular formation, with a pair of Wasps to his left, and a Javelin to his right. Dong put his hands up slowly. He turned to Cassie. “Cassandra, don’t do anything stupid. We’re going to survive this, if we’re smart.”
Cassandra nodded, and whimpered in pain.

The Davion mech spoke again:

“YOU A MEDIC? WHERE’S YOUR ARMBAND?”​

“No, sir.” Dong said, gulping as he said so. He’d never been so damn scared in his life. He was here, unarmed, facing down four Davion ‘Mechs that had annihilated most of his platoon in little under a few minutes. “I wish to surrender. Both of us do.”

“ROGER THAT, DON’T DO ANYTHING DUMB CAPPIE, STAY RIGHT THERE AND THE INFANTRY WILL COME COLLECT YOU. YOU NEED ANY HELP WITH THAT WOUNDED GIRL?”​

Dong nodded, and after a few seconds, the hatch on one of the Wasps popped open and a rope ladder appeared, with the warrior shimmying down it with practiced ease, she ran over at a dead run with a medical kit bouncing against her scantily clad hip. She was short, barely one and a half meters tall, without an inch of fat, and from what he could tell peeking out of her neurohelmet, the reddest hair he’d ever seen. She was to Dong and Lu in an instant. She grimaced as she saw Lu’s wound.

“Corporal Danielle Finch, Able’s Pursuit Lance, Foxtrot Company, Jenner’s Battalion, Davion Light Guards. I’ll save the ‘you are my prisoner speech?’ Let’s focus on saving your friend. Lucky for you? I was a 3rd year med student. Damn well wish Doc. Y could see me now.”

“…Operations are expected to resume within the next week or so as we reconstitute units in the leading formations. We’ve taken especially heavy casualties in infantry formations, and the Capellans have mostly proven to be fanatical, with little quarter asked or given. But, per your instructions, I have told the front-line units to try…”

-Excerpt from letter from Marshal Linda Archer to Acting First Princess Katherine Steiner-Davion, dated October 1, 3056

Sian, Part 2

Attacking Forces: 6th Syrtis Fusiliers RCT, 1st Davion Guards RCT, 4th Davion Guards RCT, 3rd Crucis Lancers RCT, 6th Crucis Lancers RCT, 7th Crucis Lancers RCT, 1st Ceti Hussars RCT, 3rd Royal Guards RCT, Davion Light Guards RCT, 10th Deneb Light Cavalry RCT, 1st Federated Suns Armored Cavalry, 1st Kell Hounds, Jade Phoenix Cluster, 10 artillery brigades.

Defending Forces: House Immarra, Red Lancers, 4th Tau Ceti Rangers (battalion), WOBM 2nd Division, WOBM 3rd Division, 1st People’s LoyaltyRegiment (Regular/Fanatical regiment made up of comb outs and convalescents with battlemech experience, leavened with instructors from the Sian Center for Martial Disciplines, as well as survivors of several units destroyed during Active Panther). 1 battalion of Death Commandos. 3 combined arms divisions of the Sian Home Guard, and 150 “Victory Battalions” (75 of which are on Wuhan).

Results: Operations began to slow in tempo as September rolled on, as casualties in Fedcom reconnaissance and infantry units began to climb. The Capellans fought for every acre, but it did little but delay the inevitable. By September the 20th, Benin was surrounded, and elements of the 3rd Royal Guards had begun to fight their way through to the city center through an estimated 10 Victory Battalions that had been left behind to defend the city.

In other actions, the various ‘Mech regiments spent most of the first half of September jockeying for position for the inevitable FC push towards Sian. The FedCom commanders were content to await the arrival of the 4th Donegal Guards RCT and the 5th FedCom RCT to ease their rear area situation before beginning the final push on the Forbidden City itself, there was some debate, however, to a proposal brought forward by none other than Kai Allard-Liao himself, of executing a coup de main on the Chancellor’s palace using his Jade Phoenix Battalion and the 1st Ceti Hussars.

Marshal Archer was somewhat skeptical of the plan, as it was still some 80 kilometers to the Forbidden City, and the terrain between them and the FC lines was of an increasingly tropical nature, and it would be a defender’s dream to fight in that, thus slowing down the FedCom advance. One staff officer said “Is Kai cribbing notes from Arnhem?”

But Kai had another concern, he knew he was all that was left approaching a tomorrow for the Confederation, but what kind of tomorrow would be left if Sian was burnt to a husk. It was time to end the fight now. Marshal Archer was given to bold action, and she liked the idea, if not necessarily the execution of the plan.

She made Kai revise it, and she told him “You drop on the palace, and everybody goes in at once. No multiple drops. And you will get all the air support you need.” After a final review, she signed off on Operation Shattered Dao on the night of the 28th of September.

More ominously for the Capellans, during a conference with Sun-Tsu, his newly formed "defense council" which had replaced the now-disfavored Strategos had informed him that there was perhaps enough ammunition, POL, and fuel to defend Sian for another month, and that surrender would at that point be a given, lest the Chancellor insist they fight 'Mechs with sticks. The Chancellor smiled, and said "What of our special weapons?" While the council managed to again talk Sun-Tsu out of their use yet again, it became clear that the Chancellor was losing touch with reality.

 

[CurtisLemay]

Main Briefing Room
Mount Davion
New Avalon
Crucis March
Federated Commonwealth
September 26th, 3057

Katherine Steiner-Davion looked over the wreckage of the recently concluded briefing. The map of the planets remaining to the Confederation burned into her brain. Yuris still flashed between the gold of the Commonwealth, and the green of the Confederation. It did so more brightly with Sian, and half a dozen other worlds alternated between purple and green along the Capellan-League border. All hell has broken loose there, but it’s all the doing of the various regional militaries, Corrine has yet to mobilize the Federal units, heck, she’s called her volunteers home, well, mostly. She’s not giving up Van Diemen IV, Elnath, or Corey. Not happy about that, but that may be a problem to settle later.

Her attention returned to Sian, as her blue eyes took in the readouts displaying the latest information from the fighting. Her briefers from DMI and the AFFS had been very thorough in breaking it down for her, but she still felt there was something missing. And she had severe misgivings about Kai’s idea of an avalanche drop on the Forbidden City. One of the briefers said we’d lose a third of the droppers before they even hit ground, and half the total force in the fighting, and that was assuming total success, and relief within five days, which I am not sure is possible. Neither was Jackson, which concerns me.

A cough disturbed her reverie. She turned with a start, it was her brother Victor, resplendent in his “walking out” uniform from his 10th Lyran Guards days. She smiled weakly.

“Still trying to find a way not to execute Dao?” Victor intoned

Katherine nodded. “The answer doesn’t present itself. Kai has to know this is an invitation to suicide.”

“I dunno Katherine, if there’s anyone who can pull it off, it’s Kai and his collection of Clanners. Not to mention, he’ll have Ross McKinnon and some of the Ceti Hussars with him. He’ll be alright. A mixed battalion plus ought to be enough to hold the palace and spaceport till help arrives. At the very least, it will confuse things for the Capellans.” Victor strode over and sat down in the empty seat next to hers.

Katherine nodded “He’s good, Victor, but is he that good? I can’t help but think of the story of Arnhem and how they thought it was a great idea then.”

Victor nodded, their father had made sure their education had had a good basic grounding in history, especially military history. Dad wasn’t 100% sure which one of us would wind up inheriting the family business. But it’s a poor analogy here.

“Dear sister, the good news is that the terrain, while crappy, isn’t Dutch polders and marshland. It’s jungle. So, it’s far more doable. Jungle cut through by several six lane highways, all leading to the Forbidden City. God bless the Liaos and their ‘Hero Projects’. That said, I am sure even Sun-Tsu will expect it. Frankly, I doubt he’s even in the Forbidden City anymore. The Capellans have leadership bunkers all over Sian. He’s probably in one of those.”

“And that’s the other thing that concerns me. Suppose we take the damn city, and Kai orders a surrender, but not everyone obeys. Now we have a civil war in a state on our other border, and we’re already having issues with the one we have.”

Victor grimaced as if he’d been kicked in the ribs. “Yeah, I know. Omi has intelligence just as good as our own from her O5P sources, the ones that are left that is. But that’s drying up. They’ve been declared as ronin by both sides, and are being rolled up.”

“She’s not taking the news well, is she?” Katherine asked, her royal mask dropping for a second with genuine concern for her brother, and a woman that she now considered a good friend.

Victor nodded. “Shin Yodama brings her news on the casualties in the O5P weekly. She bears it stoically, at least in public, but with me? Well, we’ve both had a good cry about it. Me for our parents, and Omi for her family, and her people. You think Dad knew this would be the end result?”

Katherine shrugged “I don’t know, brother. I would like to think he did. But our parents, dare we say it, were human. And I think he honestly thought Sun-Tsu was a much craftier fellow than he’s turned out to be, and would not bet the future of his nation on a ‘pair of 8s’ as Auntie Yvvone would have put it. He sure would not have thought that Sun-Tsu would have used terrorism on such a scale.”

“I didn’t either, sister. I met him on Outreach. He was a survivor hiding behind the mask of a coward. This entire war was not the act of a survivor, but a man who wanted to prove he was better than his ancestors, and was grasping at an opportunity I think he believed would never come again.” Victor sighed thoughtfully, his brow furrowing with concern.

“There is one other concern?” Katherine intoned.

“Yeah, and what’s that?” Victor queried, the look in his eyes saying ‘I love you sis, but damn your good points.’

“With the command and control networks breaking down on the other side, what control do they have over their special weapons?” Katherine asked plaintively.

Victor swore in German a phrase that would have had their mother reaching for the lye soap. “Christ on a crutch. Last thing we need is some Capellan Arrow IV battery commander with delusions of grandeur getting ideas of ‘Xin Sheng and pass the sunshine.’ I’ll give Quintus a call, we may need to have the Rabid Foxes seize their nuclear stockpile on Sian, we know where most of it is.”

“’Most,’ brother?” Katherine said, an upward lilt in her voice betraying not a small bit of concern.

“These are never a sure thing. There are still some loose nukes from the Falcon and Viper arsenals from when we overran Sudeten and Waldorff. We suspect they took them with them when they fled, or its shoddy paperwork…but...” Victor trailed off, looking off in the distance.

It was Katherine’s turn to swear as both contemplated a dark future indeed.

Private Office of the Primus of the Word of Blake
Harrisburg City, Gibson
Free Worlds League
September 30th, 3057

“…and you are sure the Capellans will not manage to save the situation?” queried Precentor Martial Trent Arian of the image on the wall screen. This live HPG hookup was expensive, thousands of C-Bills spent per second. But…it’s useful in circumstances such as these. Precentor ROM Kernoff thought as he rubbed his chin thoughtfully.

“No, Precentor Martial.” the image of Precentor Daphene Chrysler, commander of the Word of Blake Militia 2nd Division, looked drawn and tired. There were dark rings around her eyes that contrasted with her off-white field robes and the locks of stringy blonde hair that looked matted under the weeks of lacking even a decent bath. “I don’t think the Capellans will last much longer than the middle of October. Even their legendary fanaticism is beginning to wane. The on-planet ammunition reserve is beginning to run down. It’s my professional opinion they have one more good battle in them, and then their defense will collapse due to a mix of moral and logistical exhaustion.”

“And our own forces?” Precentor Martial Arian’s voice raised an octave, knowing the answer he’d get, but was hoping he wouldn’t.

“We have fought well, sir. But the fact is, we’re the only functional formations the Capellans have outside of House Immara. And what concerns me is the Capellans have been talking about a counterattack into the teeth of the Commonwealth advance to ‘save’ the Forbidden City. I’ve taken a look at the operational planning. A first-year adept could do better.”

Arian grimaced “So there is no hope for the Capellans at this point?”

“No sir, there isn’t. It is my sincere recommendation that we evacuate and save what we can. I can get our people out within ten days of your order.” Chrysler responded.

“Why so long, Chrysler?” Precentor ROM Kernoff said, the warning tone obvious in his voice. Has your loyalty to our holy cause wavered, Chrysler? Are you planning to surrender it all to the Davions and save your own skin?

“It’s the Capellans sir, they’ve got lots of military police and Maskirovka assets roaming the rear areas, hanging anyone they think is deserting. And they’ve not been too careful about it. I’ve lost four men and women myself to their bloody-mindedness.” Chrysler spat at the last comment.

“Precentor Chrysler, I hereby order you to save what you can. Our Capellan allies have failed, and we must see to ourselves. As shameful as that is, there is no other way to address it. Furthermore, I authorize you to activate CASE TALON upon your escape.” Precentor Martial Arian stated matter of factly, but the gasps in the room gave proof that CASE TALON was anything but routine.

"Precentor Martial, sir. I will do as you say, but please sir, please tell me that CASE TALON is at my discretion?” Chrysler’s voice had almost taken on a begging tone. Blake no, I can’t think things are that bad! Kernoff thought.

“It is, but under the circumstances, I would suggest it. But again, it’s up to you, Precentor Chrysler. But you are furthermore ordered to not accept any demand to surrender, under any circumstances. You are to fight to the last believe and ‘Mech in the event you cannot escape. And this applies to ALL sides on Sian.” Arian had dropped the other boot, and it was lead-lined.

Chrysler simply nodded and said “As you will, Precentor Martial. For the Blessed Blake.”

The Precentor Martial simply nodded and smiled thinly, “For the Blessed Blake, Precentor. See to your command.”

The screen terminated at the source, a Word of Blake Broadsword sigil against a blue background replacing the image of the Precentor light years away. Precentor Martial Arian turned to the rest of those assembled. “So, we can assume CORONET DAWN has failed then?”

Kernoff nodded slowly. “I do not see many other options but to assume complete failure. At least our base here is safe with Corrine’s ‘militant neutrality.’”

“Is it, Kernoff? My own sources inside the FWLM are stating they are seeing troop movements they cannot account for; of units they’ve never heard of. And what of Paul Marik? He’s been missing since the beginning of this month, and we have no idea where he went. If I were the Captain-General, and I were looking to get rid of us, it is how I’d go about it.” Precentor Mulvanney said with a feral smile. I told these fools that backing the Capellan plan was madness. And now look where we are. We might lose two divisions on Sian and another on Yuris if we aren’t careful!

Primus William Blane, who had been sitting silently in a corner of the moderately sized living room-turned-conference-space, rose with a start, a look of disgust on his face as his robes twirled angrily. “No! Precentor Mulvanney is right. We are being set up for something. I see it in Corrine’s Marik’s face whenever I get a ROM from her. She tells us sweet nothings…but I suspect she is setting us up. Whether it’s a blind eye to the Steiners coming here? Or she does it herself. Whatever the case? She is going to betray us, and soon. The Master has fortold-“ Blane’s voice was increasing in speed and volume, a fanatical light gleaming in his eyes.

Kernoff almost dropped his noteputer. “Dammit Blane, we don’t discuss him!”

Blane turned to Kernoff “Whom do you think opened my eyes? The Master knows Corrine all too well. He knows all. And he has saved his believers yet again. We must depart this place. Precentor Martial, how soon can we evacuate for Point Zulu?”

Trent Arian ran some numbers mentally, “Give me two weeks, and we can have this place a ghost town for whomever is coming.”

Blane smiled “Good, and amend your instructions to Chrysler on Sian. She is to activate CASE TALON immediately to cover her own withdrawal. No sense in making it easy for Davion or Liao? Who knows, perhaps they will blow each other back to the stone age this time?”

 

[CurtisLemay]

Pandora Unleashed​

Battery Firing Line of No. 3 Battery, 161st Artillery Battalion, CCAF Home Guard
Sian
Capellan Confederation
October 5th, 3057

Lance Corporal Jimmy Hu was bored, bored out of his damn mind. He hated the Home Guard, he hated being forced into it and he hated his Lance Sergeant with a passion. He smoked the Ling-Tao cigarette again, as he walked his sentry path. Fucking issue cigarettes, God I would kill for some captured Davion Chesterfields. His rifle was slung, and his eyes felt like heavy metal doors, leaded with exhaustion.

The rest of the battery was asleep, with the ammunition rationing in effect, approval for all fire missions had to come from higher authority, and the rumor was? There was one final attack coming soon. Poor bastards up front, this last attack is going to make a lot of widows and orphans. At least I am a gun bunny, we shoot our rounds, then wait for the Davions to overrun us, and pray they don’t kill us out of spite.

A pair of headlights came out of the gloom, first one, then two more, and the whine of the engines were distinctly Capellan. Hu unslung his rifle, nobody was due to come to the battery now, and there hadn’t been an ammo delivery in weeks. There wasn’t supposed to be one coming, was there? Something made the hair on Hu’s neck stand up. Something was wrong, but those were Capellan vehicles.

The lead vehicle stopped 40 meters from Hu, the vehicle was a LSP Hover Jeep, that was bog-standard in several Inner Sphere militaries, it was a closed top, with a hatch and top mounted machine gun. There was a gunner manning the machine gun, and he was in Capellan uniform, or at least Hu thought so in the murk of the night. The front doors opened, and a pair of officers got out from either side of the vehicle. Shit, just what I need. Crap. I’d better stop them. Hu chambered a round in his service rifle, and shouted “Halt, who goes there!”

“Ammunition delivery for your battery from the 23rd Service and Support Battalion.”

Hu’s jaw dropped. More ammo? Now we’re talking. Someone at HQ’s grown a brain. Now we can pay the damn Davions back in a coin they’d recognize! “Advance and be recognized!”

The two figures approached Hu, and they were officers. Every inch from their shiny mapcases, to their haughty nature, and their gleaming insignia screamed REMFs. Goody, bet they eat their rations in the “approved Capellan manner” and request the Chancellor’s permission every time they must break wind? Careful Hu, what if they’re Mask? Wouldn’t want them reading your mind now, would you?

The lead figure came to a halt some five meters in front of Hu, with another figure trailing him. The first figure was tall, abnormally so for a Capellan, and the figure trailing him was slight, but it was hard to tell more than that in the baggy field uniforms.

A deep basso voice rang out from the lead figure. “I’m Commander Rytov. Maskirovka, here for a special weapons ammunition delivery and loyalty inspection. Hu gulped audibly. This was bad. “special weapons ammunition delivery” meant either gas, bugs, or nukes. They can’t be serious! The Davions will glass us for it. Worse, a loyalty inspection meant the Mask would haul random people in for questioning and if they didn’t like the answers, summarily either send them to a corrective infantry battalion, or just shoot them out of hand.

Hu’s voice wavered “Identification papers, Sirs?”

“Steady, son. We are just here to deliver the devices, and then do some loyalty inspections on the battery officers and NCOs, you’re too junior for us. And here’s our papers.” The figure, still just an outline in black, highlighted against the headlights, stepped into the light, and it was when Hu noticed…the uniform wasn’t right..no it was very wrong. What the hell are- The silenced automatic coughed twice, and Hu dropped like a sack of dirty laundry dropped to the floor.

Before he could even groan in pain, the figure strode over to him, knelt, and said, “Sorry son, but this is the way it has to be.” He then fired twice more into Hu’s face, killing him instantly.

Adept Alice Rodgers, Light of Mankind Kappa Two turned to her team leader, Demi-Precentor Joshua Forest. “Did you have to apologize. What, were you going to put a mint under his head as he bled to death?”

Forest shook his head. “We’re not sociopaths, Rodgers. We have a job to do, a distasteful one. Let’s just do it and get the hell out of here.”

Rodgers nodded, who waved at the two trucks behind her, and 16 men, in two groups of eight men each, disembarked from the trucks, they moved like ghosts, surrounding the sleeping battery who had no idea what was about to happen. In moments, the Blakist commandos fell on them with knives, e-tools, silenced firearms, and their bare hands, killing over 40 Capellans in as many moments, within 30 seconds, it was over, and not a single Capellan had lived long enough to scream.

Forest turned to Chambers. “Well done, that was a full 15 seconds faster than we rehearsed it, make sure you leave some Rabid Foxes uniform items. I want to muddy the issue as much as we can. Get the warhead team to work.”

Chambers nodded, and blew a whistle, and a six man team scurried from the back of the jeep, making their way to the first truck, where they pulled down from the truck a large, closed black case that read “Tac Nuke (Actual), Open ONLY to shoot” emblazoned on the cases in white stenciled lettering, The cases were just the right dimensions for a Sniper round.

The team made their way to one of the Capellan guns, and stacked the case next to the gun, where 4 of the commandos guarded the case, and waited as the team made two more trips back and forth between the truck and the gun. The warhead team then laid out the cases, working in silence, as they confirmed the contents, and then ran test kits with each round, ensuring their viability. All the test kits glowed a friendly green, which was a happy surprise. These rounds hat sat on a shelf first on Terra, then on Gibson for centuries, and had initially been Star League issue.

The first round was loaded gingerly into the breech of the gun, and the lanyard was carefully connected. A warning was shouted, and the lanyard pulled. The gun fired with a loud report that all present felt in their chests, and the sound assaulted their senses, as the flash of the firing lit up the night sky. The team quickly repeated the process twice more, then took the spent shell casings, the cases the rounds had come in, and piled them together, tossing a pair of thermite grenades on them. The orders were simple: No Evidence. At least this distasteful enterprise is done successfully. Maybe we’ll get a mission that doesn’t make me want to puke next. Forest smiled grimly.

He turned and shouted, “Everyone back in the trucks, the Davion counterbattery is due any moment!”

The figures moved like ghosts back to the trucks, and the column slowly left the scene, leaving behind only the silence of the dead, and the licking of the funeral pyre of the only evidence of what had transpired. That evidence, plus the bodies of 41 dead Capellans would be erased from the earth when a lance of Archers from an FC artillery brigade showered the grid square with LRMs. But the damage had already been done.

The shells were base-bleed rounds, a small gas generator providing some thrust to the round to propel it a greater distance. The shells traveled a total of nine kilometers, and the targeting information was impeccable, each round fell within 400 meters of their intended target. The headquarters for the 6th Crucis Lancers RCT. Each round began to spin as it reached the terminal phase of their flight, with a simple accelerometer tracking the number of spins the round made. Once the number of spins reached a set number uploaded from the gun’s firing computer, the round sent a signal to the explosive and physics package to prepare them for detonation.

Detonation of the 1.5kt tactical nuclear warhead happened seconds after that, the three rounds bracketed the headquarters, and each round became the center of a miniature sun that could be seen for kilometers. Each round exploded in a surface burst, with a fireball 90 meters in diameter, most of the headquarters area was caught within the 5 psi ring from each blast, and out of the 650 man headquarters element, only 40 or so were uninjured by the blast and fire effects and they all were immediately exposed to at least 500 rem of radiation instantly, ensuring they would all die probably within a month of exposure. Fallout drifted downwind from the blasts as far as almost as 50km, but more lethal doses were limited to nine and a half kilometers away. Still the blasts didn’t just kill 650 Davions, but an estimated 4600 Capellan civilians, and injured just over twice that.

But the Light of Mankind team saw none of that, they barely saw the flash and felt the detonations as they drove toward a promised rendezvous with the 2nd Division.

Forest reached for his SATCOM transmitter, and typed a simple message:

VICTORIA, THIS IS ALBERT. WE HAVE MADE DELIVERY. ALL WAS FLAWLESS.

The screen soon flashed a reply: ALBERT, WERE THERE ANY WITNESSES OR COMPOROMISE?

NO, Forest typed. AWAITING EXTRACTION COORDINATES, VICTORIA.

The screen flashed again: SENDING NOW, ALBERT. SEE YOU SOON.

Forest’s world went white, and in an instant, he felt nothing. All three vehicles erupted into gouts of flame, and their drivers and passengers destroyed instantly by powerful C-9 charges installed secretly in the wheelbase of each vehicle before the mission. The pre-mission brief had been clear. No compromise, no witnesses. This of course, meant the team the Blakists had sent to fire the rounds in the first place. But at least there was no one to answer any messy questions.

While the Capellans were busy trying to confirm just whom had fired those nukes, and confirm one of their commanders hadn’t just gone rogue in a flurry of electronic and radio calls, the Blakist divisions withdrew, and quietly made their way to rendezvous points, quietly boosting off Sian within hours and linking up with a fleet of jumpships lying doggo in Sian’s outer system asteroid belt. The jumpships drifted clear of the belt, then made a risky pirate point jump for points unknown. The Fedcom naval elements were caught flat-footed, most of their aerial assets busy hunting down Capellan nuclear capable units and bombing them into oblivion.

I’ll never forget one of the burn cases we got from the 6th Crucis after the nukes hit. Poor kid, at least, that’s what his dogtags said. We tried so damn hard, his skin came off in bloody and burnt strips, and the rest of him was as black as soot. His vocal cords had been destroyed by the heat, so his mouth just gaped open,making no sound, and his eyes..they were just gone, two weeping sockets where they had been. And the rest, oh god, the rest. The kid just kept trying to scream, but the doctors really didn’t know where to begin. We tried to intubate, but his throat was badly burnt and his larynx crushed..all we did was probably asphyxiate him trying to save him. Please, can we stop the interview, I need a moment?

• Interview of Staff Sergeant Danica Hollings for the “AFFC Medical Professionals ’56 War Retrospective Project.” , dated 3/18/3067

 

[CurtisLemay]

Pandora Unleashed​

Battery Firing Line of No. 3 Battery, 161st Artillery Battalion, CCAF Home Guard
Sian
Capellan Confederation
October 5th, 3057

Lance Corporal Jimmy Hu was bored, bored out of his damn mind. He hated the Home Guard, he hated being forced into it and he hated his Lance Sergeant with a passion. He smoked the Ling-Tao cigarette again, as he walked his sentry path. Fucking issue cigarettes, God I would kill for some captured Davion Chesterfields. His rifle was slung, and his eyes felt like heavy metal doors, leaded with exhaustion.

The rest of the battery was asleep, with the ammunition rationing in effect, approval for all fire missions had to come from higher authority, and the rumor was? There was one final attack coming soon. Poor bastards up front, this last attack is going to make a lot of widows and orphans. At least I am a gun bunny, we shoot our rounds, then wait for the Davions to overrun us, and pray they don’t kill us out of spite.

A pair of headlights came out of the gloom, first one, then two more, and the whine of the engines were distinctly Capellan. Hu unslung his rifle, nobody was due to come to the battery now, and there hadn’t been an ammo delivery in weeks. There wasn’t supposed to be one coming, was there? Something made the hair on Hu’s neck stand up. Something was wrong, but those were Capellan vehicles.

The lead vehicle stopped 40 meters from Hu, the vehicle was a LSP Hover Jeep, that was bog-standard in several Inner Sphere militaries, it was a closed top, with a hatch and top mounted machine gun. There was a gunner manning the machine gun, and he was in Capellan uniform, or at least Hu thought so in the murk of the night. The front doors opened, and a pair of officers got out from either side of the vehicle. Shit, just what I need. Crap. I’d better stop them. Hu chambered a round in his service rifle, and shouted “Halt, who goes there!”

“Ammunition delivery for your battery from the 23rd Service and Support Battalion.”

Hu’s jaw dropped. More ammo? Now we’re talking. Someone at HQ’s grown a brain. Now we can pay the damn Davions back in a coin they’d recognize! “Advance and be recognized!”

The two figures approached Hu, and they were officers. Every inch from their shiny mapcases, to their haughty nature, and their gleaming insignia screamed REMFs. Goody, bet they eat their rations in the “approved Capellan manner” and request the Chancellor’s permission every time they must break wind? Careful Hu, what if they’re Mask? Wouldn’t want them reading your mind now, would you?

The lead figure came to a halt some five meters in front of Hu, with another figure trailing him. The first figure was tall, abnormally so for a Capellan, and the figure trailing him was slight, but it was hard to tell more than that in the baggy field uniforms.

A deep basso voice rang out from the lead figure. “I’m Commander Rytov. Maskirovka, here for a special weapons ammunition delivery and loyalty inspection. Hu gulped audibly. This was bad. “special weapons ammunition delivery” meant either gas, bugs, or nukes. They can’t be serious! The Davions will glass us for it. Worse, a loyalty inspection meant the Mask would haul random people in for questioning and if they didn’t like the answers, summarily either send them to a corrective infantry battalion, or just shoot them out of hand.

Hu’s voice wavered “Identification papers, Sirs?”

“Steady, son. We are just here to deliver the devices, and then do some loyalty inspections on the battery officers and NCOs, you’re too junior for us. And here’s our papers.” The figure, still just an outline in black, highlighted against the headlights, stepped into the light, and it was when Hu noticed…the uniform wasn’t right..no it was very wrong. What the hell are- The silenced automatic coughed twice, and Hu dropped like a sack of dirty laundry dropped to the floor.

Before he could even groan in pain, the figure strode over to him, knelt, and said, “Sorry son, but this is the way it has to be.” He then fired twice more into Hu’s face, killing him instantly.

Adept Alice Rodgers, Light of Mankind Kappa Two turned to her team leader, Demi-Precentor Joshua Forest. “Did you have to apologize. What, were you going to put a mint under his head as he bled to death?”

Forest shook his head. “We’re not sociopaths, Rodgers. We have a job to do, a distasteful one. Let’s just do it and get the hell out of here.”

Rodgers nodded, who waved at the two trucks behind her, and 16 men, in two groups of eight men each, disembarked from the trucks, they moved like ghosts, surrounding the sleeping battery who had no idea what was about to happen. In moments, the Blakist commandos fell on them with knives, e-tools, silenced firearms, and their bare hands, killing over 40 Capellans in as many moments, within 30 seconds, it was over, and not a single Capellan had lived long enough to scream.

Forest turned to Chambers. “Well done, that was a full 15 seconds faster than we rehearsed it, make sure you leave some Rabid Foxes uniform items. I want to muddy the issue as much as we can. Get the warhead team to work.”

Chambers nodded, and blew a whistle, and a six man team scurried from the back of the jeep, making their way to the first truck, where they pulled down from the truck a large, closed black case that read “Tac Nuke (Actual), Open ONLY to shoot” emblazoned on the cases in white stenciled lettering, The cases were just the right dimensions for a Sniper round.

The team made their way to one of the Capellan guns, and stacked the case next to the gun, where 4 of the commandos guarded the case, and waited as the team made two more trips back and forth between the truck and the gun. The warhead team then laid out the cases, working in silence, as they confirmed the contents, and then ran test kits with each round, ensuring their viability. All the test kits glowed a friendly green, which was a happy surprise. These rounds hat sat on a shelf first on Terra, then on Gibson for centuries, and had initially been Star League issue.

The first round was loaded gingerly into the breech of the gun, and the lanyard was carefully connected. A warning was shouted, and the lanyard pulled. The gun fired with a loud report that all present felt in their chests, and the sound assaulted their senses, as the flash of the firing lit up the night sky. The team quickly repeated the process twice more, then took the spent shell casings, the cases the rounds had come in, and piled them together, tossing a pair of thermite grenades on them. The orders were simple: No Evidence. At least this distasteful enterprise is done successfully. Maybe we’ll get a mission that doesn’t make me want to puke next. Forest smiled grimly.

He turned and shouted, “Everyone back in the trucks, the Davion counterbattery is due any moment!”

The figures moved like ghosts back to the trucks, and the column slowly left the scene, leaving behind only the silence of the dead, and the licking of the funeral pyre of the only evidence of what had transpired. That evidence, plus the bodies of 41 dead Capellans would be erased from the earth when a lance of Archers from an FC artillery brigade showered the grid square with LRMs. But the damage had already been done.

The shells were base-bleed rounds, a small gas generator providing some thrust to the round to propel it a greater distance. The shells traveled a total of nine kilometers, and the targeting information was impeccable, each round fell within 400 meters of their intended target. The headquarters for the 6th Crucis Lancers RCT. Each round began to spin as it reached the terminal phase of their flight, with a simple accelerometer tracking the number of spins the round made. Once the number of spins reached a set number uploaded from the gun’s firing computer, the round sent a signal to the explosive and physics package to prepare them for detonation.

Detonation of the 1.5kt tactical nuclear warhead happened seconds after that, the three rounds bracketed the headquarters, and each round became the center of a miniature sun that could be seen for kilometers. Each round exploded in a surface burst, with a fireball 90 meters in diameter, most of the headquarters area was caught within the 5 psi ring from each blast, and out of the 650 man headquarters element, only 40 or so were uninjured by the blast and fire effects and they all were immediately exposed to at least 500 rem of radiation instantly, ensuring they would all die probably within a month of exposure. Fallout drifted downwind from the blasts as far as almost as 50km, but more lethal doses were limited nine and a half kilometers away. Still the blasts didn’t just kill 650 Davions, but an estimated 4600 Capellan civilians, and injured just over twice that.

But the Light of Mankind team saw none of that, they barely saw the flash and felt the detonations as they drove toward a promised rendezvous with the 2nd Division.

Forest reached for his SATCOM transmitter, and typed a simple message:

VICTORIA, THIS IS ALBERT. WE HAVE MADE DELIVERY. ALL WAS FLAWLESS.

The screen soon flashed a reply: ALBERT, WERE THERE ANY WITNESSES OR COMPOROMISE?

NO, Forest typed. AWAITING EXTRACTION COORDINATES, VICTORIA.

The screen flashed again: SENDING NOW, ALBERT. SEE YOU SOON.

Forest’s world went white, and in an instant, he felt nothing. All three vehicles erupted into gouts of flame, and their drivers and passengers destroyed instantly by powerful C-9 charges installed secretly in the wheelbase of each vehicle before the mission. The pre-mission brief had been clear. No compromise, no witnesses. This of course, meant the team the Blakists had sent to fire the rounds in the first place. But at least there was no one to answer any messy questions.

While the Capellans were busy trying to confirm just whom had fired those nukes, and confirm one of their commanders hadn’t just gone rogue in a flurry of electronic and radio calls, the Blakist divisions withdrew, and quietly made their way to rendezvous points, quietly boosting off Sian within hours and linking up with a fleet of jumpships lying doggo in Sian’s outer system asteroid belt. The jumpships drifted clear of the belt, then made a risky pirate point jump for points unknown. The Fedcom naval elements were caught flat-footed, most of their aerial assets busy hunting down Capellan nuclear capable units and bombing them into oblivion.

I’ll never forget one of the burn cases we got from the 6th Crucis after the nukes hit. Poor kid, at least, that’s what his dogtags said. We tried so damn hard, his skin came off in bloody and burnt strips, and the rest of him was as black as soot. His vocal cords had been destroyed by the heat, so his mouth just gaped open, making no sound, and his eyes. They were just gone, two weeping sockets where they had been. And the rest, oh god, the rest. The kid just kept trying to scream, but the doctors really didn’t know where to begin. We tried to intubate, but his throat was badly burnt and his larynx crushed. All we did was probably asphyxiate him trying to save him. Please, can we stop the interview, I need a moment?

• Interview of Staff Sergeant Danica Hollings for the “AFFC Medical Professionals ’56 War Retrospective Project.”, dated 3/18/3067

Main Briefing Room
Mount Davion
New Avalon
Crucis March
Federated Commonwealth
October 8th, 3057

Katherine Steiner-Davion’s face was a mask of stone as she read the reports from the 6th Crucis. The RCT had been effectively decapitated in the strike. To the credit of the 6th, the Mech Regiment’s XO had taken over, and he was doing a fine job of stitching the 6th’s rear area services and headquarters elements back together, but chaos was still the order of the day.

Strangely, the Capellans had done nothing to take advantage of the situation, and in fact, according to the tactical and operational intelligence, the Capellans were just as confused as to what happened as the FedCom was. Though, to be honest, MIIO was convinced it could have been a rogue operation by the Mask or the Death Commandos.

Victor had warned me something like this would happen, and goddamit, he was right. And now, I have to decide whether or not I glass a world. Do I let myself be spoken in the same breath as Jinjiro Kurita? It’s not like the Capellans cared about their own civilians either? There’s almost 5,000 of them dead or dying right now, and ComStar’s begging us to let them send field hospitals in. I’d do it, but the NBC experts say it’s too hot, and most of the wounded may die from the radiation within two weeks. God, I don’t envy Marshal Archer. She has to preside over this mess. We knew it would be bad on Sian. But the reality…

It was then that Katherine noticed all eyes were on her. Jackson Davion cleared his throat. “Your Highness, we need to discuss retaliatory options. And, the future of operations on Sian itself.”

“Jackson,” Katherine stated carefully “What are my options. What can and should we realistically do?”

Jackson drew himself up and exhaled loudly, though his uniform was resplendent, and he was clean-shaven and every inch an AFFC recruiting poster, his eyes had bags under them, and the worry lines on his face had deepened. And Katherine could swear he had serious greying at the temples.

“Your Highness, we realistically have three options that come to mind. The first, would be to respond massively, and hit both counterforce and countervalue targets on Sian. We have the means in place to do so already, and I expect we could do so with few losses, but we would kill millions of Capellan nationals, most of them civilians. It would also touch off rebellions on more than a few worlds in the Capellan and Sarna Marches. We’d have to put those down, and by the time we were done, the death toll would be in the billions. We’d have made Jinjiro on Kentares look like Countess Bathory’s swimming pool in comparison.

“The next option is to withdraw and blockade Sian. We have no guarantee that would work. Sian is self-sufficient agriculturally, and it’s well-nigh impossible to completely blockade a world. Plus, everyday Sun Tsu lives is another day he can foment mischief. Also, there would be a steady drip of casualties trying to enforce the blockade.

“The third option? We ignore it. We execute Shattered Dao on schedule on the 15th, and end this. The Capellans cannot stop us. And if they uncork more nukes, we can use limited nuclear strikes of our own in response. I think we can use ComStar to warn them what will happen if they follow up this attack.

“And the final option? Noone in this room supports this, but you asked for options. We immediately ask the Capellans for cease-fire talks. I don’t want to, no one does, and it will give the Capellans a victory they do not deserve.”

Katherine looked at her brother, who had been the perfect imitation of a dime store Indian, and had said nothing the entire meeting, he had been serious. I am not taking back the reins till the war ends. No sense in screwing with what’s working, he’d said. Their eyes met and Victor gave an imperceptible nod.

Katherine looked around the room, and said softly “Ladies and gentlemen, may Victor and I have the room. I promise we won’t be long.”

Everyone rose as one, and filed out to a shuffle of chairs and papers as they left. Within moments, Victor and Katherine were alone.

Katherine rose, and walked to the holodisplay, her eyes boring through the icon for Sian. “Victor. I am not going down in history as Jinjiro Kurita.”

Victor sighed “No, and I won’t let you sis. But how do you really feel about it?”

Katherine shook her head and smiled. “I haven’t heard any voices or anything. But stressed? Yes, Goddamit Victor! Why? The Capellans have to know they’re whipped. I know that, you know that. It’s over. But they’re determined to drag us ALL down. And all I can think is: ‘Mom and Dad deserve to be avenged.’ But I can’t use billions of Capellan lives as a funeral pyre to our parents. Even if…some of me wants to. I want Sun-Tsu to know pain, and fear, and loss. And I want it so badly. But, not like this? Am I a monster?”

Victor chuckled. “No sis, you aren’t. You are doing your best with half your brain tied behind your back and you’re damn angry. But I noticed something. We’ve lost track of the Blakists. The SIGINT transcripts have no record of them after the 28th of last month. I am not saying they had a damn thing to do with it? But it does seem convenient they won’t be around to answer for all of this? Might be something for Quintus to look into. But I have to be honest, it’s probably little more than a rabbit hole.”

Katherine nodded. “Victor, we go as planned. It’s time to end this, and the best way to do this is to rip out the black heart of the Confederation. But I want the timetable moved up. We go in 48 hours. It’s well past time to end this.”

Victor nodded “I’ll get everyone else back in here.”

I know a lot of people have asked me why the hell I didn’t glass Sian when I had the chance. Sometimes, all that can be said is “Just because you can do a thing, doesn’t mean you should.” The Capellan people, for all of their faults, were not the enemy. Sun-Tsu was. And I will be damned if I would be a party to a massacre. And as much flak as I have gotten for this? I accept it. And I’d still make the same decision now and twice on Sunday.

• Taken from “Life and Times of a Cracked Princess.”

 

[CurtisLemay]

On approach in Low Orbit
Gibson
Free Worlds League
October 9th, 3057

I still am haunted by the death of Gibson. Haunted mentally, physically, and morally. Some asked me why I stepped down from commanding the Knights after that? It’s because of what I knew I would have to do next, and what it drove me to do. And yes, ten years on? I am still proud of it. The naïve man I was then, was a fool who nestled a viper to the bosom of the nation I love. I owed it repentance for that. My soul was a cheap price indeed.

• Paul Masters, Blakist Hunter, An Autobiography – pp. 150-151, Atreus Press, 3060

“Are you sure, Demos?” Paul Master’s scarred face grimaced, he did not like the fact he had not heard from any of Corrine’s assets in system since they had arrived. In fact, the entire world was quiet, too damn quiet. Masters wore all-black tunic and trousers, wrapped in a heavy hooded grey cloak, he usually wore the hood up to hide the extent of his injuries. Old prejudices die hard I suppose. The edges of the cloak floated free in the microgravity. Masters rose from his command chair on the bridge of the dropship and floated towards a window overlooking the planet. He looked out contemplatively.

Demos cleared his throat out of equal parts nervousness and needing a moment to collect his thoughts before delivering the seemingly unlikely news. “Yes, sire. We cannot definitively find any proof of life anywhere on Gibson. This doesn’t preclude there being life on its face, but sire, the SIGINT team is well and utterly convinced there’s been some sort of catastrophic incident down there. And worse, we’re detecting extremely high rad levels down there, sire. about 1,000 rads per hour, with spikes as high as 5,000. It’s bad down there sire.” What transmissions they were getting were weak, confused and sounded automated. Like something had taken the populace down swiftly and utterly. His aide, Demos, was immaculately turned out in the uniform of the Knights of the Inner Sphere, his blue eyes were expectant and at times, puppy like. Demos is new to the Knights and expects the Knights of old. The Blakists burned that out of me. Now, I intend to repay those bastards for what they did to us.

In an instant, that thought, and the news Demos had delivered unnerved Paul Masters. What the hell happened down there? Gibson is a world of 4.2 billion. They did not all vanish. They could not have. Masters turned to back to his aide. “Demos pass the word, we’re keeping the rest of the force in orbit. Ask for volunteers from the Knights, we are going down there. Why do I get the feeling I should have killed that sonofabitch Arian when I had the damn chance! Master’s mind roared. I should have taken more of a hands-on role with regards to my world. Masters didn’t like the new “him.” But he realized, this was the way of things, at least until accounts with the Blakists were settled, in full.

“Demos, we drop in half an hour, inform the rest of the force. And tell the Guards I expect them to come in hot if things get…unpleasant.” Demos nodded in understanding.

What in God’s name happened down there?

1 hour later

The answers came unbidden and were all too obvious. Gibson had been irradiated by a massive radiation event. The dead were all over, covered in detritus from the horrific and agonizing manner of their demise. Radiation exposure isn’t a quick way to go, and whatever happened, it was global, massive, and it had blanketed the world in a sheet of radiation that wasn’t going to be cleaned up anytime soon. Master’s Pheonix Hawk sealed itself immediately, radiation and NBC exposure alarms hooting like a clutch of startled owls until Masters turned them off.

Even the grass and the trees were dying, the trees losing leaves like some sort of sick parody of fall, and the grass itself turning a sort of sickly brown. Nothing at all lived on Gibson. Not anymore.

 

[CurtisLemay]

On approach in Low Orbit
Gibson
Free Worlds League
October 9th, 3057

I still am haunted by the death of Gibson. Haunted mentally, physically, and morally. Some asked me why I stepped down from commanding the Knights after that? It’s because of what I knew I would have to do next, and what it drove me to do. And yes, ten years on? I am still proud of it. The naïve man I was then, was a fool who nestled a viper to the bosom of the nation I love. I owed it repentance for that. My soul was a cheap price indeed.

• Paul Masters, Blakist Hunter, An Autobiography – pp. 150-151, Atreus Press, 3060

“Are you sure, Demos?” Paul Master’s scarred face grimaced, he did not like the fact he had not heard from any of Corrine’s assets in system since they had arrived. In fact, the entire world was quiet, too damn quiet. Masters wore all-black tunic and trousers, wrapped in a heavy hooded grey cloak, he usually wore the hood up to hide the extent of his injuries. Old prejudices die hard I suppose. The edges of the cloak floated free in the microgravity. Masters rose from his command chair on the bridge of the dropship and floated towards a window overlooking the planet. He looked out contemplatively.

Demos cleared his throat out of equal parts nervousness and needing a moment to collect his thoughts before delivering the seemingly unlikely news. “Yes, sire. We cannot definitively find any proof of life anywhere on Gibson. This doesn’t preclude there being life on its face, but sire, the SIGINT team is well and utterly convinced there’s been some sort of catastrophic incident down there. And worse, we’re detecting extremely high rad levels down there, sire. about 1,000 rads per hour, with spikes as high as 5,000. It’s bad down there sire.” What transmissions they were getting were weak, confused and sounded automated. Like something had taken the populace down swiftly and utterly. His aide, Demos, was immaculately turned out in the uniform of the Knights of the Inner Sphere, his blue eyes were expectant and at times, puppy like. Demos is new to the Knights and expects the Knights of old. The Blakists burned that out of me. Now, I intend to repay those bastards for what they did to us.

In an instant, that thought, and the news Demos had delivered unnerved Paul Masters. What the hell happened down there? Gibson is a world of 4.2 billion. They did not all vanish. They could not have. Masters turned to back to his aide. “Demos pass the word, we’re keeping the rest of the force in orbit. Ask for volunteers from the Knights, we are going down there. Why do I get the feeling I should have killed that sonofabitch Arian when I had the damn chance! Master’s mind roared. I should have taken more of a hands-on role with regards to my world. Masters didn’t like the new “him.” But he realized, this was the way of things, at least until accounts with the Blakists were settled, in full.

“Demos, we drop in half an hour, inform the rest of the force. And tell the Guards I expect them to come in hot if things get…unpleasant.” Demos nodded in understanding.

What in God’s name happened down there?

1 hour later

The answers came unbidden and were all too obvious. Gibson had been irradiated by a massive radiation event. The dead were all over, covered in detritus from the horrific and agonizing manner of their demise. Radiation exposure isn’t a quick way to go, and whatever happened, it was global, massive, and it had blanketed the world in a sheet of radiation that wasn’t going to be cleaned up anytime soon. Master’s Pheonix Hawk sealed itself immediately, radiation and NBC exposure alarms hooting like a clutch of startled owls until Masters turned them off.

Even the grass and the trees were dying, the trees losing leaves like some sort of sick parody of fall, and the grass itself turning a sort of sickly brown. Nothing at all lived on Gibson. Not anymore.

2 Hours Later
New Beginnings Primary School
20km SSW of Harrisburg
Gibson
Free Worlds League

Paul Masters looked on at the collection of sat recon and aerial recon photos as he sat at the teacher’s desk at the head of the classroom. All the bodies had been long since removed. They’d been found huddled in a corner. They had enough time to know what was about to happen to them. All showed the same thing, heaps of dead, bodies stilled forever in the streets, and burning militia armories…their contents systematically looted. The Word of Blake compound was empty, the infantry sent to clear it had tripped a few lethal booby traps, but other than that, no one was home. Noone, except buildings and a Mercury battlemech that had been abandoned in a mechbay, and stripped of everything useful, leaving only it’s metal chassis behind. It was a mute witness to what had occurred. It had all been a cipher.

Someone told them we were coming; someone gave them enough time to…do this.

A knock came at the wooden door, which Masters had closed, so he could have time to think, to process this obscenity.

Masters looked up, the bile rising in his throat as he mentally composed his report to Corrine.

“Enter.” he barked.

“It’s Demos, your liege, we found something. It’s a ROM, addressed to you from Cameron St. Jamais. It’s verigraphed sir. It’s him for sure. You’ll want to see it.”

Masters rose, and opened the door, ushering Demos in. “Have we found any survivors? Any at all?”

Demos swallowed “Yes, some in some basements, underground garages, and invasion shelters. We figure it is upwards of half a million in total, perhaps three-quarters. We haven’t had the chance to take an accurate count.” Demos produced a portable folding ROM player. “My liege. You’re going to want to see this. It was found in his offices.”

“Play it.” Masters intoned softly, his voice the tone of a man who was defeated.

Demos gently pressed the PLAY button on the portable player as he set it on the desk. The screen was 12cm wide but was adequate for the purpose. The screen began with a test pattern and then faded to white, with the broadsword sigil of the Word Of Blake fading in from the center of the screen. The screen soon came to a white hooded man sitting at a desk, the figure soon flipped his hood back, the figure had straight hair in a bowl cut favored by the Blakists. His eyes burned bright green with the fire of fanaticism, and his face was framed by an unmistakable and distinctive goatee. It was no doubt. It was Cameron St. Jamais.

“Greetings, Count Masters. I wanted you to know that we have exacted righteous vengeance against your people for your crimes against our order. You underestimated us. You thought us your pet ComStar. And when we elevated the daughter of one of our allies among you to the Captain-Generalcy, this is how you repay us? By leaving our brethren to die on the fields of Sian, and betraying us here?”

Jamais took a breath and smiled, it was a feral smile that made Master’s hair stand on end. “You survived our wrath, Count Masters. As did many of your brethren, much to my regret, but former Primus Blane did not see things as I did. He got a bit squeamish when the conclave decided it was time to apply the righteous punishment here. He died right along with them, I killed him myself.” The camera panned to the left, and zoomed in on a body slumped against the wall of the office. The body was dressed in blood-stained white robes, and the face was twisted in a rictus of pain, and the face belonged to William Blane, former Precentor of the Word of Blake. A broadsword with the Word of Blake sigil on the pommel protruded from the body. The camera panned back to Jamais. “It was regrettable but required. We have assumed control of the planet and we are evacuating those who believe, and all material of value to us. The rest? Well, they will be cleansed in a holy shroud of radiation. Their suffering will be a penance for your sins, and the sins of the League, Count Masters. Do not attempt to find us or follow us. But know this: We will return one day, and when we do? We will come with the fire of holy vengeance in our hearts.”

The image then swiftly cut out. Masters saw red. The only sound he could hear was the angry beating of his own heart and the blood pumping through his veins. He grabbed the ROM player in a fit of pique, throwing it with all his might against the blackboard, smashing it into a dozen pieces, as they fell to the floor in a cacophony of sounds.

He turned to Demos. His eyes were afire with one thought: Revenge.

Masters drew a dirk from his belt, and carefully removed his Mechwarrior gloves from his hands. He walked over and retrieved the remains of the ROM from the wreckage of the player. He sliced his left palm with the dirk in a fluid motion and squeezed his fist until it drew the crimson ichor of blood. He dripped the blood onto the ROM fragments, and said quietly “I swear, there is nowhere you can flee to, nowhere you can hide, no one who will help you because I seek your death St. Jamais. You and anyone who helped you, anyone who serves you. Anyone who said one kind word about you, or your cause, they will die by my hand. They will not die well, or easily. Of that, I swear.”

He turned to Demos. “You saw the oath I took. You know what it means. And you know I must leave the Knights, as of right now.”

Demos smiled “Hand me the dirk, blood-brother. I had family in Nagasaki Valley. You do not travel on this path alone.”

I knew when I handed Demos that dirk, I had begun a path that would transform both of us forever. I knew not the shape of that path, only why I embarked on it. I am proud of where it took me. I am proud that I have brought forty-three Blakist scum to the justice of the only one that matters, the one true God in heaven. I have become closer to my Catholic faith during all of this, and the papal encyclical regarding Blakists as anathema has given me a solace as I carry out this mission. Some say I am as fanatical as they are. I may be, but the difference is? I do not harm innocents. I harm the guilty. And I always make sure I am not wrong. So far, I have not been. I have no regrets for my life now. I am cleaning the Inner Sphere of a filth not seen since Aramis.

But the Inner Sphere should mark my words. The Blakists have raised their hand against all humanity, Clan, and Inner Sphere alike. They will be back, and we will all regret not joining my crusade to purge them from the ranks of humanity.

• Paul Masters, Blakist Hunter, An Autobiography – pp. 245-246, Atreus Press, 3060

Government House
Samantha
Taurian Concordiat
October 11th, 3057

Jeffery Calderon looked on at the blood-red sunrise to the west and smiled a weak smile. “What was that phrase, Doru? Red Sky at Morning...?”

“…sailor take warning, your highness.” Doru nodded. “I do have some good news, your highness. Such as it is?”

“Do tell Doru, I could use some. As much as many have criticized our efforts in the former Capellan Confederation? I feel bringing some stability to our border regions and taking advantage of some confusion to enrich our nation on the cheap never hurt us?”

Doru nodded “I can’t speak to domestic opinion, sire. I can only speak to military matters. On those, I have little to report. We have been consolidating control of Rollis, with the assistance of Sung’s Curiassier’s who have accepted a place in the TDF. Larsha’s been a bit more difficult, the militia there put up a fight, but it wasn’t anything the 2nd Taurian Guards couldn’t handle.”

Calderon nodded. “So, we should be able to call it a day?”

Doru shrugged “I think so, sire. It was a shame about Corodiz, but the Canopean epidemiologists were firm about not landing there. We’re not one hundred percent sure there actually is an outbreak there, but why chance it?”

Calderon nodded sagely. “So why do I get the feeling as much as this will enrich the Concordiat, we’ve also bought ourselves some long-term trouble?”

Doru nodded “We might have, sire. Word is the FedCom ambassador might be presenting us a strongly worded request for us to advance no further into the Confederation, and there is also the risk of guerilla movements. We don’t have a lot of experience with those matters.”

Calderon nodded again. “Alright Doru, pass the orders to conclude operations. We’ll work out how we’re going to administer these worlds. I think we’ve done enough already.”

While some in the Concordiat and the Magistry were chomping at the bit to advance deep into the Confederation, both the Magistrix and the Protector were wise enough to realize that logistically, the advance into the former Confederation had probably reached its zenith…

• “Nibbling at The Edges” The Taurian-Canopoean advance into the Capellan Confederation, Foreign Policy Magazine, June 3064 issue by Dr. Daniel Framingham of the NAMA School of International Relations

 

[CurtisLemay]

I know what I am, and what I am not. I never saw myself as more than a regent for Victor. I never wanted the throne, as much out of self-awareness, as a lack of ambition. I love my brother deeply, but it’s been a source of strain for us on why he didn’t resume the throne until the war ended. He’s always said to me it was because “You’re doing a fine job, Katherine, why switch horses?” I accept that, it’s sound thinking. But he doesn’t see the casualty lists burned into his mind every time he closes his eyes. It was that alone that made me leave royal life. I was tired of being responsible for so much death. Yes, I ordered vengeance for my parents. But there’s a difference between planting a dagger in the heart of an assassin and sending armies of thousands forward.

As stressful as it is? I much prefer my days as a trauma surgeon. Yesterday, I saved a child when the crashweb in her parent’s hovercar failed and she went into the windshield. I hope the ophthalmologic surgeons can save her eyes, but I worked damn hard to give that girl a fighting chance. And that is why I do what I do. I have lots of “red in my ledger” as is said in the intelligence community. I want to put some hope, some decency, and some life in there. I owe that to all those I ordered forth to die, and all those who died under their guns. It may have been necessary, but that doesn’t make me feel any better.

-Taken from “Life and Times of a Cracked Princess.”

Sian, Part 3
Attacking Forces: 1st Davion Guards RCT, 4th Davion Guards RCT, 3rd Davion Guards RCT, 6th Syrtis Fusiliers RCT, 7th Crucis Lancers RCT, 1st Ceti Hussars RCT, 3rd Royal Guards RCT, Davion Light Guards RCT, 10th Deneb Light Cavalry RCT, 1st Federated Suns Armored Cavalry, 1st Kell Hounds, Jade Phoenix Cluster, 10 Artillery Brigades.
The attackers were reinforced by the following units just before Shattered Dao kicked off: 5th Federated Commonwealth RCT, 4th Royal Guards.

Defending Forces: House Immarra (65% strength), Red Lancers (40% strength), 1st People’s Loyalty Regiment (35%, scattered in penny packets), Death Commando Battalion (65% strength), 2 combined arms divisions of the Sian Home Guard (third division was disbanded due to losses and used to reinforce the other two), and 85 “Victory Battalions” (32 of which are on Wuhan, many battalions have either been destroyed or have deserted/surrendered en masse.)

Results: The Federated Commonwealth forces were a bit delayed in their preparations for Shattered Dao, as T and R command was a bit snarled catching up with the Fedcom advance. The shattered 6th Crucis Lancers were withdrawn to Fraizer and replaced by two other regiments, the 5th was brought in to secure the rear against the ever-present threat of Capellan guerillas (and was reinforced by three additional infantry regiments from the Draconis March).

October 12th, 3057 dawned a bright, crisp morning, with a blustery wind from the west. The Fedcom artillery and air started early, pounding Capellan positions beginning at 0346, with special attention given to identified Capellan “special weapons depots” and artillery units. Several other suspected sites were subject to airmobile raids by Loki/MI-6 teams The Capellans fought hard and casualties amongst the FedCom SF teams were heavy, but the operations were successful overall. It was later estimated in post war surveys that 70% of the on planet Capellan Special Weapons stockpile was seized or destroyed, but that still left 30% unaccounted for. While the initial operations were considered a success, the fact that an estimated 40-50 weapons might still be out there was cause for concern.
This of course, left a decision in Marshal Linda Archer’s lap. A decision about the option of CASE MORDRED, and potentially bringing a new level of hell to Sian…

“Citizens of the Confederation. Rogue elements of our armed forces yesterday used nuclear weapons against the invading Davion armies against orders. Those responsible did not survive the events surrounding this use, and thus, have saved the state the trouble of their execution. I have however, ordered that their families be reduced to servitor status, no matter their former station. I remind my fellow Capellan citizens. I am the state, and I will be obeyed above all else. If I did not allow it, it is not allowed….”

• Excerpt of speech dated October 11th, 3057 from unknown location by Sun-Tsu Liao. This was the last recorded public appearance made by the former Capellan Chancellor.

Headquarters, Task Force Sian
Confederation Arms Hotel Main Conference Room
Beilin, Sian
Capellan Confederation
October 11th, 3057

The conference room at the Confederation Arms Hotel had seen better days, scorch marks and bullet holes marred the once-beautifully upholstered walls. The chandelier over the main conference table had fallen under the strain of bombardment and had fallen and shattered on the table. Marshal Archer’s people had cleaned as best as they had time to, but it probably wasn’t a good idea to walk barefoot on the once jade green carpet, which was now a dirty grey with ground in mud, or copper brown, from old bloodstains. But as dilapidated as it was, the hotel still had the best communications around, and it was a solid roof, so perfect for Marshall Archer’s needs as a headquarters.

Marshal Sarah Archer pinched the bridge of her nose again painfully as the S-4 continued with his brief. The news was the same, all the estimates were wrong, and they were exceeding projected use rates on consumables of all kinds by a factor of three. Even if Shattered Dao worked, and that only had a 75% chance, it was projected that the Mask had laid in enough arms caches to make Sian a guerilla hotbed for years, and that was already happening. Ambushes and IEDs were occurring daily and the casualties among the infantry units were soaring. I really hope the 5th Fedcom can unfuck this. I cannot run out of steam short of the Forbidden City with the force I am cobbling together for the drop. It is a real hash job that my Lyran officers assure me will work as well as any “Kampfgruppe.”

The S-4, a tall gangly woman with short brunette hair and a taciturn expression concluded her presentation on the supply situation and asked for questions. Marshal Archer raised a weary hand. “Cybil, tell me the truth? Have we got enough to punch through to the Forbidden City and end the conventional phase at least?”

The S-4 nodded, “Yes ma’am, we can manage it, but the fact is, it had better be a quick operation, or we’re going to have to impose an operational pause within the next 90 days.”

Archer slowly swore “How long of a pause?”

“At least 60-90 days, Ma’am. Which I know is going to give the Capellans more time to reconstitute, as well as raid the other continents for more victory battalions.”

Archer nodded “Nice to see you paid attention in the briefings, Haputmann-General Frisch. Look, we need to go on the 12th, and this question doesn’t just apply to you. I am going to have Colonel Allard-Liao brief his final plan in a few moments, and I need to know, can we realistically attack with four RCTs on a narrow front and reach him within 72 hours? We can’t flank through that jungle and trying to use airmobile to leapfrog down Highway 7 isn’t going to happen. The Capellans have made sure any LZs are going to suck, not to mention advancing down it will be a nightmare.”

An older man, a Leftenant-General with engineer’s collar devices rose and cleared his throat. “Marshal Archer, our “thunder runs” have made some progress through the Capellan obstacle system, especially those obstacles close to our own front lines, but we’re going to need fire support to keep the bastards heads down as my kids lift mines and fill craters in the roads. Not to mention they blew the damn bridge at Rapti over the Perfume River. That’s going to take me 10-12 hours to get a bridge across it, and I’ll need at least a battalion thrown across the other side to make sure we can get that bridge set up.”

Marshal Archer nodded. “Don’t worry Archie,” she smiled weakly “You’ll have it if I have to command that battalion myself from my Victor.”

Her aide d’ camp, a short, blonde Captain with the nametape of “Spiers” blanched “Ma’am. We’d prefer you didn’t do that. Sergeant-Major Rice already is having ulcers about the security situation- “

Archer angrily cut off her ADC “Dammit, Captain Spiers. I don’t have time for it. We need across that river and into the Forbidden City in 72 hours once that drop happens. It’s been delayed twice already and the Capellans have had to notice the Jade Phoenix Cluster has been pulled out of the line. I am not going to delay this any longer! Now, I have one of the best staffs in the AFFC. Let’s make this happen, people. Solve the problems and let’s make the impossible, possible.”

Marshal Archer surveyed the room. She had a good collection of people. They’d gotten the task force this far. And they weren’t going to let them down this close to victory. She turned to the NCO at the door of the conference room.

“Sergeant Ngo, bring in Colonel Allard and his people. It’s time to end this.”

2500 meters AGL above the Forbidden City
Forbidden City
Sian
Capellan Confederation
October 12th, 3057

Colonel Kai Allard-Liao checked the temperature gauge of his retro pack again. He hadn’t liked the numbers when he’d been kicked out the ‘mech bay of the Black Wing, and they weren’t looking much better now. Damn right jet is looking a little hot. And that’s not my only worry. He chanced a look up from his cockpit instruments, and outside was one of the worst swirling dogfights he had ever seen, let alone been hot dropping into the middle of.

Every Capellan aerospace fighter left on Sian must have been up here, and even with the Jade Phoenix Cluster fighters cutting a path, the Capellans were managing to get in amongst the drop. Kai’s eyes focused on a Sulla dueling with a Thrush. The Thrush’s pilot was good, using his craft’s disadvantage in atmosphere to his advantage, fighting in the vertical and making slashing attacks on the bigger Clan fighter. but the Sulla pilot was equally skilled, and risked stalling out to pull an Immelman into his next “boom and zoom” with a pass of his own. Weapons flashed from the Sulla, with a cerulean beam connecting both fighters for an instant, before the Thrush’s wing separated at the root, and a pair of magenta-colored beams caught the Thrush amidships, with the striken ship belching flame and smoke, and entering into a flat spin. The cockpit soon flashed, with the canopy separating and an ejection seat launching the Capellan pilot from his stricken craft.

Kai’s secondary radio receiver crackled to life; it was tuned on the Aerospace trinary’s frequency for the drop. “Alpha Beak Lead, this is Four. I claim that one as a bondsman. He was good, quiaff?”

The reply was terse and very clanlike. “Four, Lead, we are not taking bondsmen today. But he would have been a fine addition to the clan, nonetheless. Perhaps when this is over, we can convince him to join our ranks. Continue Mission, we have plenty more where he came from. The Capellans are making a maximum effort today. Out.”

Kai turned his attention back to his own instrument panel. The right jet of the bolt on pack was still running a bit hot, and it was time to fire off another burst. It would be the last before the airfoil deployed and slowed down Yen-Lo-Wang for it’s final drop. Truth be told, Kai didn’t like drops. Too much could go wrong, and as a ‘Mechwarrior, he’d seen more than his share of such things. Airfoils not deploying, bolt on retros misfiring, or not firing at all. Or the ‘Mechwarrior miscalculating the numbers and instead of guiding in for a good landing, augured in like the world’s biggest lawn dart.

Being crushed by my own family ‘Mech isn’t the way I want to leave this world. The altimeter ticked down…2000, 1500…1000. Kai triggered the jets for their final 15 seconds of fuel. Promptly after he mashed the buttons, he got the whoops of the master alarm that the right jet had reached critical temp and was shutting down. He leaned hard into the left jet. The airfoil deployed cleanly, or at least the instrumentation told him it had…but he was still coming in at 33m/s, not the recommended 10. Shit, this isn’t going to end well. He called up his map and looked for a spot to land that might be a bit…soft. He quickly found one and grimaced. The techs are really going to hate me.

“All Dimond Call Signs, this is Diamond Six, I am coming down a bit fast and have to find somewhere soft. I am going to be off the drop zone by 3 klicks to the east. I say again, will be off the DZ by 3 klicks east. Don’t send anyone, I will make my way into the perimeter.”

A chorus of “Affs and Rogers” cascaded over the radio, as Kai concentrated on getting his ‘Mech down in one piece. 800…500…here we go! Brace! Kai pulled his straps of his command couch tight and threw his head back into his seat, hoping the restraints held.

Yen-Lo-Wang, proud avatar of the Allard-Liao family came down at a rate of 18m/s feet first into the 10 meter deep stabilization pond of the Forbidden City Municipal Sewage Treatment plant. The ‘mech landed with a huge splash that went 3 meters high. Kai was thrown around in his cockpit like a kid rolling down a hill in a barrel, but the restraints held, and he stayed conscious. The ‘Mech wobbled but stayed upright. He checked his status board, all green. Phew. Well, hell of a welcome to the Forbidden City? Aff? God, I am thinking more like my Falcons every day. Well, time to do what I came here to do.

Kai quickly used his nav system to set a few waypoints back to the main DZ, which was supposed to be the massive parade ground outside the palace. He suspected he wasn’t the only one in this situation. He could hear the staccato booms of heavy weapons fire, and beams tear across the sky, warring with the warble of the city raid alarms.

It was time for Kai to get to work. It was time for him to do his part to end this. He switched on his radio to the GUARD frequency.

“Sun-Tsu Liao, you have murdered my mother, and proven unfit to rule. I come for you, and your throne. Face me, or don’t. I am coming for you. And as a friend promised. Hell is coming with me.”

Kai set the ‘Mech forward at a walk to the sound of the guns, a crooked smile crossing his face.

 

[CurtisLemay]

Kekku, Part 1​

Quarters of the First Prince
Castle Davion
New Avalon
Federated Commonwealth
October 9th, 3057

Even though Victor was something of a soldier, the bedroom of the First Prince had changed little from the time of his father. Omi had smiled and noticed Victor hadn’t even taken down some of his father’s awards and mementos from his time in the AFFS. And as bedrooms went, it was quite opulent. And well, four poster beds work much better for some of the things I read about in those trashy novels Kommandant Pavrati lent me. She giggled at that last thought.

Omi Kurita’s eyes shone with unshed tears as she read the latest O5P, MIIO and DMI intercepts coming from the Combine. Both armies in the Combine Civil War were on the march, and neither side seemed to be showing much in the way of mercy. But especially Miyako. Gods, what happened to her? What has she become? We used to play in the palace gardens together as children. She was always a sweet, wonderful little girl? This is…alien. Losing her father has driven her completely mad. And Dieron burns for it.

Omi turned her gaze at Victor’s sleeping form in the bed. She smiled. His love and understanding, as well as the support of his family has been nothing short of generous. And he is every bit the man I knew was. Father, brother. Hear me. Our feud dies with you. I will marry this Davion. Not just because of dynastic politics. Iie! I love him. Probably since that day on Outreach. She wrapped her Kimono tighter around herself and smiled at the warmth of her thoughts, allowing herself a respite from the terrible decisions she knew she would have to make.

I am the only one left to ward the people of the Combine. And now, I feel as if I must emulate in sprit, if not deed, the 47 ronin. I must end this conflict. But in so doing, I condemn my cousin, the last of my blood. But what she has done. She has no more right to rule than the usurper who murdered my brother. And the Clans advance daily. According to reports, the Smoke Jaguars have landed on Xinyang, and I suspect it will not hold long.

She turned as if to wake Victor. No. I must handle this myself. It is my family’s doing. And I must do what honor demands of me to fix this. Or at least, atone for it. But in so doing, I can never go home again. Sayanora Luthien, Sayanora Combine. I miss you, but my path to the mountain lies differently. But I do not walk it alone. I walk it with family. A family I know you approved of Father and Brothers. Sleep well, what I do know, I do to save our people.

Omi opened her noteputer and wrote a quick message to be sent out with the routine traffic from Castle Davion for ComStar. The message was sent to a fabric maker on Exeter who specialized in working with Combine-exported silk. It read simply: I WILL TAKE THE GREEN INLAID STICHES OPTION ON THE PIECE FOR THE 24th. The message simply sounded like an update for a silk order. Omi hit the green “send” button on her noteputer with a resigned finality. Do not abandon me now, fates. I ask you to assist me in this sad duty.

Field HQ of Miyako Kurita
150km Southwest of Hamai-Zaki
Al’Nair
Dieron Military District
Draconis Combine
October 14th, 3057

Miyako Kurita looked on at the situation map in the holotank. She was irritated to say the least. These two Direron Regular regiments have proven to be far more competent than either my intelligence staff or pre-war information led me to believe. So far, the 15th and 44th Dieron were far more competent than anyone had realized, and they were fighting the DCMS’s supposed masters of mobile warfare, the Ryuken, to a standstill.

What worries me more is reports I am getting that the Usurper has raided garrisons in Benjamin for troops. I’ve heard reports that as many as eight regiments are on the move. They could be moving to check the Ghost Bears. Smoke Jaguars, or Nova Cats…but I am skeptical of this. My O5P sources have dried up. My cousin is probably wringing her hands about what I have been forced to do in this war.

She turned to her executive officer. “Fujita, have we managed to pin down either of the Dieron Regulars regiments?”

“No, tono. We’re trying, but we’ve had contacts with nothing but the militia of late. And even they have been refusing engagement after engagement.”

She cursed quietly. “Koshinuke!” she spat with not a little contempt. “They choose to dance around us like Davions and not face us as proper samurai.” The irony about that this was how the Ryuken normally fought was not lost on anyone present. But the fact that the civil war was escalating out of control of any of the combatants. The casualties on both sides had been near ruinous, and men and women who had begun the war as simple Busosensei were now Tai-i. And it showed.

The reports from the last engagement between a company of the Ryuken-roku, and elements of a fast hover brigade of the Al’Nair militia, supported by at least a company of 15th Dieron ‘mechs had been nothing short of a fiasco. A lance of Ryuken machines lost, and the rest of the company had held on for dear life until the rest of their battalion had managed to fight their way clear of several ambushes along their line of march and relieve them. The old Ryuken-roku would not have been that sloppy, or headlong. The one she had…that was another story.

Miyako was concerned, she was grasping at shadows, and some of her other regiments were wavering. Especially concerning was reports that the commander of the 16th Legion of Vega and the local militia on Vega were in contact with the Federated Commonwealth! My cousin’s doing, no doubt.

She only hoped Sakomoto was having as many difficulties as she was.

The traitor Kurita has proven most difficult in her latest attempt to seize Al’Nair. We do not believe we can reinforce our units there for at least three months, and it will be with forces that are inferior in skill and training to the Ryuken. Moreover, there are the concerns that the Nova Cats are massing near Pesht and the Smoke Jaguar landings on Xingyang, which is putting further strains on what is left of the Pesht district. We have also heard reports that the Alashain Regulars are massing on their own initiative near Chatham to potentially strike at Ghost Bear targets. We must have the ISF arrest both unit commanders and seize their jumpships before any unfortunate incidents occur…

• Transcript of briefing of Coordinator Sakamoto, dated 21 October, 3057

Offices of the Duke of Robinson
Ducal Palace
Bueller City
Robinson
18th October, 3057

James Sandoval ran his hands across his bare scalp. He ran the force projections through the noteputer for NAQAM again. Victor’s got me on something of a shoestring. But that Combine girl of his has come through, my people in DMI confirm everything she told us. He smiled as a sense of satisfaction filled him. The operational plans were solid, and the transport schedules, though thin, made good use of the transport they did have. All we need now is Victor to let us off the damn leash.

He took in the wood paneling of his office. It was all done in wood from cedar trees, with a huge inlaid Star of David made of mahogany from a tree from Kentares IV. I keep that here to remind myself of that the Snakes are little more than a murderous people. And like their true nature, they turned on themselves. Not a surprise.

He thought hard on Victor and Omi, I appreciate our sovereign has found a measure of happiness of late. But I am concerned. My man in Castle Davion has said his Kuritan fiancé (as if she is anything else) has a ruthless edge to her. What did he say, “No better friend, no worse enemy?” Ah yes, he did. I am concerned she is going to put some of that Combine bloodthirstiness into the royal line. I don’t want the Sun and Sword in the business of massacre.

He rose from his desk to proceed over to his window overlooking the training grounds of the Robinson Battle Academy. It was a rainy, dreary day in Bueller. A cold front had blown in from the east, and brought with it a cold, steady rain that drummed lightly against the dermaplast of the window. Below, a cadet in all yellow Chameleon training ‘Mech marched, or more correctly, struggled through the muck one of the lanes on the practice course had turned into. An instructor’s red and black Dervish looked on, with Sandoval imagining the exchange between student and instructor. Sandoval cringed at his own memories of his time on that course. Sergeant Caleb. If you could see me now. Then again, I guess you knew I would be inheriting the family business. He openly wondered if it was Arthur Steiner-Davion out there. He chuckled at that last thought. No Davion would have that much trouble with a Battlemech, no, it’s not him.

Sandoval cleared his head, and thought of his son, who had won a measure of his own reputation doing some dangerous work behind the lines in the leadup to Clover Spear. Alex Mallory spoke of his son’s work and said he had “acquitted himself well with little help or support.” Whatever Tancred had done, it had gotten him the Diamond Sunburst and a fresh set of scars he said little about. Tancred also doesn’t fence much anymore. Something’s broken in him. Something I can’t begin to understand. I’ve seen war. But what he saw. I am not sure I know how to understand, or whom to ask.

Sandoval muttered a small prayer. "אלוהים, אם אתה מקשיב. אנא תן לנו להצליח. אני יודע שנקמה היא שלך. אבל בואו נהיה המכשיר. לדרקון יש הרבה מה לענות עליו.”

He leaned over to his communicator. “Leftenant Bryce. Get my staff in here by 1800. We have a final meeting to hold on NAQAM.”

“Yes, Field Marshal. Should I tell the message center to get the warning orders out?”

“Yes. Get the ball rolling. Time to succeed where we failed in ’39.” Sandoval said with a satisfied smile. But with a third of the assets, a nagging voice in his mind reminded him.

Sandoval returned to the window, and contemplated a universe to come, and his people’s place in it.

 

[CurtisLemay]

Kekku, Part 2​

“Loyal Citizens, rejoice, the rebels are leaderless, we have struck down the mad coward that led them with our righteous justice! Now we can put this foolish civil war behind us and bring the Dragon back to the pinnacle of human existence it was before the foolish line of Theodore and his traitor spawn betrayed us all to the Clans and the Davions!”

• Announcement by Voice of the Dragon 19th November, 3057

Secure Wing, Benjamin Military District Headquarters
November 6th, 3057
Fort Shandra
Benjamin
Benjamin Military District
Draconis Combine

Miyako Kurita fumed at need to delay her trip to Hachiman to rally her flagging forces. She flung her robes of office contemptuously as she thought of a suitable fate for the Warlord who dared to tell her no. Her right hand dropped to the hilt of her sword. Perhaps I should use him for some sword practice. She shook her head, banishing the thought, as exciting as it was. I am here reminding one of my Warlords who his loyalties need to be focused on. His mewling about the fortunes of this district means little compared to the need to put the Dragon’s house in order, decisively. As much as he deserves to be made an example of, replacing him would be “problematic.”

She turned to her aide, Sho-sa Ichiro Tomokamai and noticed the troubled expression on her aide’s face. His brows were furrowed with worry, and his face was wan with concern.

“What troubles you Sho-sa? Do you not agree with our presence here?” Miyako queried her aide, a hint of danger present in her voice.

“Iie, Tono, I see the need for it from a political sense, but the military needs are paramount here, and our forces are flagging on both Hachiman, and Al Na’ir. Not to mention we have reports of Nova Cat movements threatening Pesht, and the Alashain Avengers have departed Chatham and have shown up on Krenice and are attempting to take the world from the Ghost Bears.” Tomokamai drew a breath before continuing, using the pause to carefully construct his thoughts, “Much is happening, Tono, and I think we are grasping for too much.”

Miyako’s eyes flashed with anger “Ask for too much!? Are all our slain warriors asking for too much? Is the blood of our slain Coordinator and his family asking for too much? We fight the best enemy of all, we fight traitors. Sho-Sa, we purify the Combine with this trial, and we will come out the other side stronger, and ready to reclaim all that is ours. Don’t tell me you agree with that baka of a Warlord?”

Tomokamai’s eyes dropped to the floor, conceding the argument. “No, Tono, I do not.”

Miyako smiled cruelly. “Good, I would hate to think I would have to prune traitors in my own midst. Come Sho-Sa, we have a Warlord to chastise.”

20 minutes later
“Warlord Marai, I plucked you from the obscurity of your district regulars because you showed a measure of skill in your defense of Dover from the Smoke Jaguars. I am disappointed to hear that your efforts to secure more troops for our drive on Hachiman has been…unsuccessful.” Miyako Kurita circled around the conference table in the secured conference area regarding her Warlord and his staff with the same look a hungry shark gave its prey.

She tightened the circle slightly, making a show of removing her ‘mechwarrior’s gloves, and dropping them to the floor, and letting her right hand come to rest lightly at the handle of her katana. Her eyes were as black as flint, but the electric energy of barely suppressed rage flowed through them as she fixed her Warlord with her gaze. “I expect better Marai. Much better. And I will find a replacement if you cannot find a way to do the job.”

Marai nodded and cleared his throat. “Tono, I understand your frustration- “

Miyako interrupted with gritted teeth “’You dare to think you can understand the depths of my frustration?! Warlord Marai, you are severely trying my patience. And people who try my patience happen to have dark things happen to them…very dark things.”

Marai nodded again “Yes, Lady Kurita, but it doesn’t change the fact that the well has run dry with regards to men and material. My own Substitution officer has raided every planet within 100 light years to attempt to find qualified warriors. We’re even bringing back veterans of the 3rd Succession War, and their giggling grandchildren!” Marai said the last bit in a hoarse whisper, that in the quiet of the room, was as loud as any shout.

Miyako paused. A flash of calm momentarily appeared in her eyes. It warred with the rage that was the usually in the driver’s seat, but like always, the rage won out. She smiled dangerously at Marai and his staff, who had done their best imitation of statues during the entire exchange.

Tomokamai swore he didn’t think any of them had blinked during the entire exchange. “Marai, you have a month, get me more troops, or I’ll be sending you and this miserably inefficient pack of curs you call a staff to the nearest front line, with all of you getting the Order of Washzkazi first.”

Marai nodded, a resigned look crossing his fate as even he knew, there would be no pleasing Miyako Kurita, no amount of equipment or men available to either side in the Combine would get Miyako to New Samarkand to depose Franklin Sakamoto. It also meant the forces loyal to Franklin couldn’t get to Miyako Kurita easily either.

The truth was that the Combine Civil War was collapsing under its own weight. Too many regiments on both sides had fallen, or simply had left. The entire DCMS logistical network had collapsed, and any fool with an abacus could see that there wasn’t enough of anything for either army to win decisively. Whole chunks of the Combine were declaring independence, or simply not paying attention to either side. And the Dieron and Pesht districts were in turmoil, with the worlds of the Benjamin district making up the front line. But Miyako was outnumbered six to two in Benjamin in regiments loyal to the Usurper, with the Ryuken only able to grant local superiority where it went into action, not to mention having to stamp out fires everywhere else. In short, it was a horror show. And the message he had just received was an admission he had received was little more than an admission of the facts.

It still is a betrayal; it is perhaps a good thing that I am not planning to survive this. Tenno Hakka Banzai Kurita-sama! Tomokamai’s mind raced, as he reached for a vial in his pocket. It was small, the size of a small pencil. He applied pressure, and felt the vial shatter, and the deadly liquid contained within splash across his hand. He began to feel the effects almost immediately, and he began to feel the tremors in his hand as the nerve agent began to take effect.

He smiled and turned towards the others in the room who were now looking at him with eyes as wide as saucers. Miyako’s mouth was open in shock. Tomokamai’s smile was wide, as his body began to lose control, and his mouth began to froth. It was a struggle for him to form his last words, but they were simple ones: “Omi Kurita sends her regards.” Tomokamai then collapsed in a heap and began to jerk as his dying nerves misfired and his body contorted painfully in his last moments. It wasn’t long before everyone in the room was doing the same. Miyako Kurita, last of her line, died painfully contorting and fouled in her own fluids and waste, her last moments full of pain and terror. With her, the Combine Civil War died as well, but like most civil wars, the end was messy indeed.

“I’ll never forget when we got word that Kurita-chan was dead by the hands of an assassin on Benjamin. We were ordered by some general I’d never heard of to surrender. The Ryuken surrender? Iie! We do not surrender. We fight. But for whom. We were not sell-swords, and we were not ronin. Fortunately, we did find an option another Kurita presented us…”

• Memoirs of Tai-Sa Hanji Morris, commander of the Ryuken-san, quoted in “In At The End: The Last Days of the Combine Civil War, by Hauptmann-General Fritz Kaller, AFFC (ret), Published by Tharkad Green Press, 3071.

 

[CurtisLemay]

​

“Allah the Merciful, Peace upon him, and you, citizens of the Azami Caliphate. For 560 years we served the Kurita family with loyalty and fidelity with our warriors. But we will not serve pretenders who have murdered their way to the throne, or madwomen addled with dreams of power. Thus, with joy and determination, we of the Azami Caliphate hereby declare our independence from the Draconis Combine and we call all sons and daughters of the Azami home. We furthermore welcome the regiments of the Ryuken to our service, though they may be infidels, they believe that the Combine as it exists now, is a poor relation to the state we loyally served. We hope to uphold the best of what the Combine was, as well as restore respect for Sunnah in public life. We furthermore welcome all citizens of the Combine who are people of the book to our worlds, and seek to live in peace with our neighbors…”
Excerpt from the Independence Broadcast of Caliph Hadi Vaziri, 1st Caliph of the Restored Azami Caliphate, 3rd December, 3057

“People of the Kessel and Vega Prefectures. Last night, I signed a document that declared our independence from the Draconis Combine. I did this with a heavy heart and a sense that I have altered our destiny forever. But the civil war has shown us that the leaders who we placed our trust and faith in, were not worthy of it. They were not worthy of us. And so, we shall deny them their prize. Furthermore, I have petitioned the Federated Commonwealth for membership. I know our peoples have been at war many times, but I felt, as did my staff, that this was the best decision for our people to finally know the peace we have been denied so long. I furthermore call home all members of the Legions of Vega, and ask them to serve as our defenders until help from the Commonwealth can arrive…”
Excerpt of the Independence Broadcast of the “Grand Duke of Vega” Amaya Dai. 10th December, 3057

Offices of the Duke of Robinson
Ducal Palace
Bueller City
Robinson
19th December, 3057

“Has the intelligence significantly changed in the last two months?” Duke James Sandoval read the room as he queried his staff. His son, Tancred, kept his own counsel, but looked at his father with grey, dull eyes that looked as if they were about to roll back like a shark about to devour an unfortunate seal.

James surveyed his Ducal situation room. The bunker dated back to the Third Succession War, and though it was beautifully decorated with woods from all the woods of the Draconis March, one item caught his eye. It was a burned piece of wood nailed to the wall. There was a small brass plate below it, it read simply, “Remains of the First Ministry of the New Avalon Catholic Church of Kentares IV. Serva Dei Innocentes” It had been a gift to his great-grandfather from the bishopric of Robinson. Even though the Sandovals were Jewish, they had a responsibility to all the citizens of the March. And that piece had come from the ruins of the orphanage. Focus, James, Focus.

James nodded with satisfaction. “Are the units at their assembly points, and are we ready to cross the line of departure, ladies and gentlemen?”

Marshal Aileen Lugo nodded, “Sire, we’re as ready as we can be. The entire operation is really on a shoestring to be honest, and we’re going without any real approval from the NCA, but the fact remains, we do have something of a blank check- “

Duke Sandoval waved off the concern expressed in Marshal Lugo’s voice “Aileen, we’re keeping operations limited to Dieron, and I think we can expect the Combine will be as confused as hell, Miyako’s armies are in a state of collapse, and it’s something of a footrace to beat Sakamoto’s troops into Dieron. A footrace I intend to win. We have the entire Robinson Ranger brigade in place by mid- February and we don’t expect the DCMS to be able to reintegrate most of rebel held Galedon till then at the earliest. The good news is that we’ve managed to hire a few additional merc battalions. We now have eight mercenary battalions at our disposal.”

“How much in the way of artillery?” James queried

“Three brigades, all training units from the Bryceland PDZ. And they haven’t got a lot in the way of ammunition. Frankly, sir, I’d plan on going without them, sir. They’re not remotely combat-ready.”

James nodded, and said, “At this rate, all we have going for us is surprise and the fact the Combine’s worse off than us?”

Lugo nodded, “Yes, sire, but we only have enough supplies for sixty days of combat operations. And to be honest, I am not sure the 2nd Kearny Highlanders are going to be very happy to leave Northwind with only their local defense force. This is the Combine we’re talking about here.”

There were murmurs of agreement with the last comment. It was an article of faith in the Draconis March that the DCMS ate babies and committed war crimes on any day ending in “y”. Worse, this was a wounded Combine, and Sandoval knew there had already been WMD used by both sides in the civil war. With worlds cleaving off from the Combine at an accelerating rate, there was no telling what the Combine would do to “Davion invaders” it could not stop with conventional means.

James, there is nothing you can do if that happens, you, Victor, Omi, and Katherine knew this operation was a risk. But something must be done or half the Draconis March is going to be up in arms. And who the hell was going to blame them, not after Helen…but sixty days of supplies? God in heaven, we’re going to be lucky if this even remotely works. At least the Dracs in Dieron seem to be in a hurry to leave the Combine. But the question is, do they want to join the Federated Commonwealth?

James exhaled and faced the multifunction holo display that was constantly updating with troop numbers and intelligence on the target worlds. Sandoval was bathed in warring colors of light. He took a pregnant pause to utter a short prayer and turned deliberately to face all those present. He met eyes with his son Tancred. I am sorry Tancred; it seems I will visit on others what was done to you. Please forgive me.

He took a breath and turned to Marshal Lugo. “Marshal Lugo, we go on the 31st of December with or without the 2nd Robinson. They can catch up. NAQAM is a go on the 6th of January. Tell the 1st New Ivaarsen to begin their move to Royal and to raid targets along the border at Leftenant General Johnson’s discretion, but not before the 6th. And remind her that her job is to keep the DCMS pinned along the frontier while the rest of us grab as much of Dieron as we can.”

James drew in another breath. There was no stopping it now. The die was cast.

“In most normal circumstances, NAQAM shouldn’t have worked. There was too little of everything and too much of the Combine up for grabs. But let it not be said James Sandoval didn’t have two things going for him…a sense of history, and an innate sense of timing. It also helped that the DCMS’s units along the border were as much as 10-15% understrength and some of them hadn’t seen anything in the way of supplies for months...”
From “Gambling for a Nation - How the Dieron March Came to Be” Alexander Kajori, Kentares Press, 3071

Operation NAQAM

1st Wave – January 3058
Diversionary Raids
Marduk
Attacking Forces: 1st New Ivaarsen Chasseurs
Defending Forces: 22nd Benjamin Regulars, Victory Industries Defense Battalion, Marduk Militia

The 22nd met the Chasseurs outside the planetary capital, with Tai-Sa Dirks trying to pin down the Chasseurs, using the militia as bait. The Chasseurs refused to take the bait, and instead, hit the Victory Industries plant, crushing the defense battalion. The Chasseurs stripped the plant to the walls. This was after the plant had just come back online in 3043 after the last Davion raid. After belting around the 22nd for two more weeks, they left the frustrated Combine defenders behind to explain to Coordinator Sakamoto how one of the Combine’s remaining ‘Mech factories was now just four walls and a roof.

Main Offensive
Al’Nair
Attacking Forces: 2nd Chisholm Raiders, Brigade from Addicks DMM, Union of Liberty Mercenary Battalion (Light/Green/Reliable)
Defenders: 1st and 3rd Battalions of the 15th Direon Regulars, 44th Dieron Regulars, Al’Nair Militia, Yorii Mech Works Defense Battalion. (A battalion of Atlases, Catapults, and Hatamoto-Chis)

The Davion invasion had better luck than it deserved, as the 44th Dieron was in the middle of a safety standdown after a training accident that had killed an entire lance of ‘Mechwarriors. The 15th was caught in their bases, and barely a mixed battalion managed to fight their way clear, as they were reinforced by the 44th. The 2nd consistently outmaneuvered the Direron Regulars, defeating them in detail before forcing the 4 battalions that remained to flee off-world to Styx. The Yorii Mech Battalion was defeated three days later in a nasty fight near the ‘Mech plant that saw the Union of Liberty take 70% casualties, and the Addicks DMM Brigade take 40% casualties. Yorii Mech Works was taken 65% intact, but the Scarborough Manufacturing plant was destroyed by DCMS combat engineers before the Dieron Regulars retreated.

Quentin
Attacking Forces: 1st NAIS Cadre, 2nd Kearny Highlanders
Defending Forces: 17th Benjamin Regulars

Both Davion units arrived in system late in the month but made up for lost time by quickly bottling up in the Steel Valley. The 17th was a shadow of its former self, having been stripped for replacements for the Clan front and was now a “sink” regiment of undesirables and barely competent mechwarriors. After some desultory attempts to break out of the siege, the regiment surrendered en masse on February 6th, 3058.

Fomalhaut
Attacking Forces: Draconis March Provisional Brigade (2 battalions of Mercenaries, The Undead Squad, and the Ghost Crew, both are medium weight, Regular/Reliable battalions, and 2 battalions from the Clovis DMM)
Defenders: Fomalhaut Militia

The attacking forces had little trouble disposing of the local militia, who was more worried about food riots and general unrest in the wake of the Combine Civil War. Many militia members were happy to enter Davion POW cages to keep them from the populace they had been so recently firing on to keep from the remaining food stores.

Saffel
Attacking Forces: Grey Snake Rangers (Veteran Medium weight Reliable Merc Battalion)
Defending Forces: Saffel Militia

The Rangers had little trouble assuming control of Saffel, as the CEO of the reconstituted Saffel Medical Institute and the planetary rulers saw little point in resisting the invasion. The decision was motivated mostly by the general economic collapse of the Combine in the wake of the Civil War, and that there was widespread starvation and disease on Saffel.

***********
“The first wave of NAQAM’s modest goals were successful beyond belief, considering the shoestring the operation was being conducted on. I will give Sandoval a lot of credit. He knew his history, and like the ancient song said, “He knew when to hold ‘em, when to fold ‘em, and when to run.” Something to be said for a commander like that…”
Unpublished Memoirs of Leftenant General Johnathan Sanchez, former CO of the 1st NAIS Cadet Cadre from 3044-65

“The level of resistance even loyal units is putting up against the Davion offensive is troubling, my lord. We will redouble our efforts to ensure the loyalty of the surviving DCMS and chase down the remaining O5P fugitives, lest they get any ideas of doing to you what was done to the late traitor Kurita. We have uncovered a nest of such traitors on Valentina and have dealt with them severely. I regret to say we have had less success in dealing with the secessionist traitors, as more such movements have appeared on Bad News and Land’s End. We have dispatched intervention battalions to deal with this scum, but it may take time, as the Dragon’s claws are overstretched now…
Excerpt from a report to Coordinator Sakamoto from the ISF, dated January 23rd, 3058

 

[CurtisLemay]

Kekku, Part 4​

AN: The below from “ComStar was not written by me. Thanks Yellowhammer!”

From: Duke James Sandoval, Lord of the Draconis March
To: Franklin 'Kurita', Miyako Kurita
Re: NAQAM
SHABBAT SHALOM, M***********S!

• Apocryphal transmission sent over ComStar to both sides in the Kuritan Civil War, dated 1 January, 3058

Offices of the Duke of Robinson
Ducal Palace
Bueller City
Robinson
2nd January, 3058

The mood in the situation room could be charitably described as “guarded optimism.” So far, NAQAM hadn’t faced more than a virtual “corporal’s guard” of Combine troops, and what they had run into was underfed, low on ammo, and robbed of the usual “bushido spirit” one found in the DCMS in normal circumstances. The past year and a half have been anything but normal. James Sandoval reminded himself.

Sandoval turned to Marshal Lugo and his staff. His staff had just concluded an excellent presentation on the situation in the Combine, and the best way to describe it was “confused.” Both sides in the collapsing civil war still referred to themselves as the DCMS, and the new proto-states growing out of what was left of the Dieron Military District were just confusing matters even more, as many of their units had just been DCMS units a month ago.

“Marshal Lugo, your professional opinion, how far should we go with NAQAM?” James opined, his brow furrowing as the wheels of his mind turned in a mix of concern, and an attempt to balance political and military considerations.

Marshal Lugo cleared his throat, and rose, walking over to the holotank. He produced a laser pointer as he traced the movements of the border that was forming between the Azami Caliphate and the Vega Ducal Republic, the latter was already in negotiations to join the Federated Commonwealth. The orders were explicit about both – Hands off. “Sire, if you asked me a month ago what I thought the Combine might do in the face of something like NAQAM, I’d have said, ‘Launch a massive counterattack.’ But the Combine’s cupboard is bare. What frontline units they have are undersupplied and as much as 20-40% understrength. They’re lucky that except for us, most of their enemies are similarly exhausted, including the Clans. Our own logistics really cannot support more than a second wave of targets. So, whatever we grab, we’d better make it good. My recommendation? Go for the throat. Go for Dieron. The garrison is the weakest I’ve ever seen it, and it’s an opportunity we won’t get again. I also suspect that if it falls, a lot of undecided planets in the district will side with us and get some safety from Coordinator Sakamoto, and his ‘justice.’"

“Is this a unanimous recommendation of your staff, Marshal Lugo?”

“No sire, but it’s a majority, some of my staff thought it a better idea to grab what we could of the industrial worlds and call it a day. But except for Nirasaki and Marduk, of which we have nullified the latter? We have achieved that objective. We’re just grabbing real estate for political purposes now, sire.”

James nodded. Victor won’t like that at all. He told me to make this a limited offensive, not a Reconquista. Not that the Combine doesn’t deserve the
latter. If I could get away with it, it would be ‘First regiment to New Samarkand gets the Dragonslayer Ribbon’ and to pick the beer at the Sakamoto skull kegger. Time to reign in Marshal Lugo.

“Marshal, whatever our mutual feelings are about the Combine and her works, we’ve done as much as we can with what we have. Execute your plans for Dieron, with whatever you can spare for supporting operations to grab as much as you can if Dieron fails. If we succeed, then those planets are a bonus, but wrap everything up by March 10th. I don’t think we can sustain operations at all past that. Plus, I don’t want to unify the damn Combine behind Sakamoto. And tell the commander of the 1st New Ivaarsen to make his next raid a doozie.

Marshal Lugo smiled “I shall, sire. He has some ideas along those lines. We can jump off for the second wave by 20 January. I think that’s enough time to get things unsnarled.

Sandoval nodded with a grim smile on his face. Here’s hoping we can put an end to all this madness.

2nd Wave – January-February 3058
Diversionary Raids
Benjamin
Attacking Forces: 1st New Ivaarsen Chasseurs
Defending Forces: Benjamin Militia, 1st ISF Intervention Regiment (taken from a mix of ISF units, and loyal militias from the Galedon district).

As a Military District HQ world, Benjamin is usually home to at least two regiments, but with the chaos of the Combine Civil War, both regiments from the garrison were called elsewhere, and never returned. The world declared early for Miyako, and when the 1st New Ivaarsen arrived, there was a fight going on between the local militia and an ISF intervention regiment sent to bring the world back into the loyal Combine fold.
The confusion and mayhem of the on-planet fighting was a heaven-sent opportunity for the 1st New Ivaarsen. The raid was mostly symbolic in terms of actual military value, with the 1st beating up handily both combatants, and grabbing 20 million C-Bills worth of military supplies (which the Combine could ill-afford to lose). But the raid did have one effect. It brought peace to Benjamin. After the 1st departed, the Benjamin militia surrendered after being promised mercy by the ISF. Surprisingly, it was a promise that was kept, as only the Warlord and his staff were executed for treason. The rest were pardoned and released within days.

Main Offensive
Halstead Station
Attacking Forces: 2nd Chisholm Raiders
Defenders: “15th Dieron Regulars” (survivors of Al’Nair)

The luck of the 2nd Chisholm ran out on Halstead Station as the “15th Dieron” (survivors of the 15th and 44th Dieron combined under the flag of the 15th) grimly dug in to defy the Davion invaders. They didn’t have long to wait, as the 2nd Chisholm arrived in the system on the 25th of January. It wasn’t long before the fighting on-world locked into a bloody stalemate that did little but bleed both regiments white. Outside matters decided the fighting for Halstead Station, as the news of Dieron and its fate motivated the commander of the 15th to do something unusual. He asked for asylum for himself and his command in the Federated Commonwealth.

Dieron
Attacking Forces: 1st NAIS Cadre, 2nd Kearny Highlanders, Draconis March Provisional Brigade, 1st Robinson Rangers
Defending Forces: 1st and 2nd Battalions, 3rd Dieron Regulars

Joined by the 1st Robinson Rangers newly returned from Clover Spear, the AFFC outnumbered the Combine forces 6-1 and it wasn’t a case of if Dieron would fall, but when. The 3rd fought well, but with the 1st Robinson leading the way (supported by a brigade of combat engineers from the Draconis March), the AFFC forces pushed their way into Fortress Dieron over the better part of a month, and took the fortress, as well as the world in 57 days of fierce, if unequal fighting. Few Combine defenders surrendered, most fighting to the last.

_____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________
I was a minor functionary in the Quartermaster Department office on Robinson. I was more of a “keep the jumpships running on time” sort. I was a real son of the Draconis March, you know, death to the Dracs and all that. So, it was with some surprise that my boss comes into my office. He said I was being reassigned to Department of Military Administration. The second shock is that I was being tapped as a military governor for a Combine world! I naturally protested. I said I wasn’t trained for this. Administration had people who did this sort of thing. Overtasked he said, everyone was being asked, and my name came up because I’d taken a semester of Japanese at Sakahara. (Which I barely remembered).

Within a week I was on a dropship outbound for Kervil. I’d never heard of the place. I will say the greeting was enthusiastic. It was reminiscent of the ancient 2-D vid “Blazing Saddles.” As far as I knew, I was the only AFFC personnel on the entire planet. I spent my “workdays” as it was attending government meetings and coordinating integration into the Federated Commonwealth, which to be honest was changing the flags and seals on the stationary. My time away from the office? Well, that was something of an eye-opening about the average Combine citizen, and their lives. I had a lot of time on my hands, and I was a bit of a foodie, so I must have hit every decent restaurant within 200 kilometers of the capital (nice when you got a skimmer at your disposal).

That’s how I met my wife, Yua. She was a line cook at a nice Gyu-Kaku place, and we got to know each other over our mutual love of food and travel. I will say her parents didn’t take a shine to me at first. But I think they warmed to me a bit as time went on when I proved I wasn’t the usual Gaijin. They did better than my family managed, I got disowned for marrying Yua, but no matter? I got a good job in the planetary administration here and worked there for thirty years. Our kids are in the AFFC, one is a ‘Mechwarrior with the 1st Dieron Grenadiers. And Yua and I are part of the neighborhood committee (It’s a holdover from the Combine days, but the locals like some of the old trappings, who the hell was I to undo everything?)

• “How I Became a Son of the Dieron March.” Fedcom Today, April 3088