Crossover The Greater Game (Babylon 5/BattleTech)

Chapter 21 Part 1
  • EAS Agamemnon
    Three Lightyears from Sian


    "It's weak, but it's definitely a tachyon signal. That means it has to be one of ours," General Hague spoke from the Alexander, one of four faces split across the main communication screen. "My guess is it's the locator beacon on the Diplomatic Transport."

    "The Jaddo beacon?" Captain Tamon Akari of the Achilles guessed.

    "Probably. If it was the main disaster beacon, it would be drawing power from the ship's own reactor. That would make it easy to spot and shut down. The Jaddo has its own power reserve."

    "We won't be able to jump straight in at this range, not without checking for hyperspace distortions between here and Sian." Sheridan shook his head in disappointment. "But if we get closer, we might have a shot."

    "Exactly my thoughts, Captain." General Hague saw Sheridan was on the same page. "Our initial plan called for a pirate point entry over Sian. Chancellor Liao is almost certainly expecting that and will have deployed the bulk of his forces there. Instead of fighting through all that, we will instead perform a KF jump over the gas giant in the outer system."

    "Is the gravity constant good enough?" Tamon asked.

    "It is. Once there we scatter beacons for the return trip, then the Alexander will open a jump point for the whole fleet. Upon arrival, the Athena will create a jump point out, directly into low orbit."

    "That's pretty deep into the gravity well," Sheridan cautioned. "We won't be able to move much."

    "We don't need to. There are no enemy warships, this won't be a battle of maneuver," Hague answered. "Once the mission is done, we jump back to the gas giant and let our KF drives finishing recharging at a safe rate."

    Sheridan looked over the amended plan, a brief animation of the planetary locations on their path to attack illuminating the new strategy.

    "This will let us bypass their ambush and engage from a distance," Hague finalized. "And it means we are close enough to the planet to shoot down any planetary defense missiles in their boost phase. That's going to make life a lot easier."

    "How up to date is our intel, General?"

    "The maps are old, but it is unlikely new fortifications have been added. We will stay alert, but focus on your sectors and respond as you see fit," Hague outlined. "It is unlikely we will have time to recover the transport. We will therefore destroy it once we verify no Alliance personnel are onboard."

    "Do we have permission to use strategic weapons?" Tamon asked the big question.

    "The President has put all weapons under local control, so I'll make that call." Hague clarified his responsibility. "My intention is to use them only if there is no other option to ensure the mission succeeds. I don't intend for us to be the first people to nuke a city this century, but we'll do what we have to. Any further questions?"

    "Just one sir," Sheridan raised. "When do we go?"

    "Six hours, when the KF drives have cooled down enough for a safe jump." Hague set the clock. "Make whatever preparations you have to, see to it. Once we commit, there's no turning back."

    The screen shut down, leaving Sheridan alone with his thoughts, his quarters dark. He waited a few moments, his mind blank, then with a snarl he stood up and tapped his link.

    "Connect to communication group six, request a meeting at the usual place."

    "Message sent." The computer responded. He headed for his door with purpose, like hell he was going to sit in the dark and brood for the next six hours. He was going to go do something useful. He stormed out of his doorway and barely stopped himself colliding with a small black clad object.

    "Captain Sheridan, from your haste, can I assume we are about to begin our great rescue?"

    "Mr. Bester." Sheridan forced a smile. "About six hours. I'll call the ship to stations about half an hour before. That'll be your cue to get to your shuttle."

    "Understood," Bester acknowledged. "This is a little unusual for my team, a planetary assault. But one of mine is down there, it is my responsibility to bring him back. The Corps cares for all her children, after all."

    "And as a bonus, you can help rescue the others too."

    "Life has its little conveniences." Bester smiled unpleasantly. "But I want you to know, Captain. Mr. Morrison, the telepath I am responsible for, he has worked with David for many years and often noted your father showed him kindness and respect. My duty is to the Corps, but as a gesture of thanks, I will work to save your father too."

    Sheridan briefly considered a sharp response but bit it back. Honestly, in this situation, he wasn't going to throw away an ally. "Thank you, Mr Bester."

    "Of course, Captain. After all, we're all human."



    "I'll raise." Natasha Kerensky threw some coins on the table.

    "Bad move." Jaime Wolf laid down his cards. "Fold."

    "Why's that? I'll see that bet." Sheridan threw in some of his own coins.

    "Because she's in a bluffing contest with Hanse Davion." Jaime grinned at the fourth person at the table. "She's not even close to that smart."

    "Hey!"

    "But I respect the effort." The young prince put his own money down. "Let's add another hundred."

    "Now I know you're bluffing." Natasha grinned. "I'll match it."

    "Same here." Sheridan threw in too. "Call it."

    All three laid down their cards, Hanse taking the win to the groans of the others.

    "Told you." Jaime collected all the cards and started shuffling. "What did they call you at the academy?"

    "The Fox," Hanse admitted. "I always thought it was because of my stunning good looks and success with women."

    Everyone had a way to deal with the coming battle, for Sheridan, it had become this battle of wits and wills with his passengers. Over the last couple of weeks, they had ended up finding a few things in common, traditions and pastimes shared between both of their origins. Card games had been one of them, including the ever popular poker.

    "You're good, I'll give you that," Sheridan allowed, the Prince giving a small nod of acknowledgement. "But you need to take my dad. He was poker champion at EarthDome, outplayed Ministers, Generals, even three different Presidents."

    "Now that might be an actual challenge." Hanse grinned as Natasha pouted at him. "I look forward to meeting him again, and I am confident I will."

    "We will." Sheridan knew it, knew it at the core of his being. "Sheridans are hard to kill."

    "Very useful family trait." Jaime took a swig of cheap beer. "When all this is done, will you finally let me take a look at your bridge?"

    "Nope," Sheridan answered curtly.

    "Aw, Captain, I thought we were friends."

    "If the President gives the okay, when we get home, I'll be glad to. Until then, you have your bit of the ship."

    "Not even any windows." Natasha sighed. "Just grey. Everywhere."

    "It's a warship, none of us have windows," Sheridan pointed out. "Weak points."

    "Yeah." Jaime thought back to the warships he knew. "You'd think that would be pretty obvious."

    "You'll need to bring your ships to New Avalon for the victory celebrations," Hanse pointed out. "I expect my brother will give you a crate of medals each."

    "Just here to get the hostages back." Sheridan shook his head with a chuckle. "I have enough medals."

    "But only one father." Natasha suddenly looked very thoughtful. "I have no parents, long story, but I was raised by my community. I feel fine about that, but since joining the Dragoons and seeing things a little differently, I sometimes wonder what it's like. Family, lovers, children."

    "Don't start getting soft on me," Jaime jostled, receiving a kick under the table for his efforts.

    "I just... I think I'm understanding it a little."

    "Family matters more than words," Hanse gave his own view. "It's more than blood, more than a legacy."

    "Must be hard for royalty, all those generations behind you," Jaime guessed. "Lot of expectation."

    "My brother had it worse as the heir. I just have to not embarrass him or the Davion name."

    "Lot of responsibility carrying a famous name," Natasha observed simply.

    "Not easy when people expect you to keep pulling off the impossible because of who you are," Sheridan added his own concern.

    "Well, by this time tomorrow, all that will matter is what we've done, not what the name carries." Jaime shrugged. "Or we'll be dead and it won't matter."

    "How long?" Natasha asked.

    "Four hours."

    "Time enough to beat the Fox." She grinned at Hanse. "Just once, one time, that'll be enough."

    "Deal the cards, Mr. Wolf." Hanse took the challenge. "I hate to disappoint a lady, but today is the day."



    Sian
    Capital of the Capellan Confederation.
    16:45 hours
    21st December 3008/2249


    "Are you sure this piece of junk is even working?" Candace Liao stomped back and forth in the storeroom, directing her frustrations at Jiang Li as he sat at a table, staring at the communication console.

    "It's working." He pointed at a blue dot at the bottom of the otherwise blank screen. "That means it's accepted my signal and confirmed my identity."

    "So why am I looking at a black screen!" The woman demanded. "Why am I not speaking to your President? Was I in any way unclear about how critical this is?"

    "I know."

    "Don't you want your hostages back? Do they not know who I am?" she ranted. "Why are they wasting time?"

    "They aren't." Jiang kept looking around. The storeroom was empty beside a bunch of boxes, but Candace's raised voice could attract attention. "But I think they've probably already made their choice. The President demanded the release of the hostages, no negotiations. This is no negotiations."

    "She gave a deadline, it passed three days ago, nothing happened," Candace dismissed. "No ships, nothing, absolutely worthless!"

    "Really?" Jiang asked. "You're not seeing the big picture. War isn't scheduled. The Chancellor was ready for a fight the second the deadline arrived. He had fighters in the sky, missile silos open, soldiers in their vehicles poised. And nothing. What happens?"

    "They're still on alert."

    "Exactly, three days on alert," Jiang pointed out clearly. "They are tired, uncomfortable, their combat readiness has slipped. When my people arrive, and they will, they'll be at a disadvantage."

    At that point the screen beeped, both of them instantly snapping their gaze to it. A cursor flashed up. There was no face, no voice, just a text message that typed itself out from the far side of known space as the only communication.

    "Jean has a long moustache," Candace read. "Well, good, I guess we're all saved."

    Jiang didn't respond to her snark.

    "Is this a joke? What is it? A code?"

    "Yeah, a code." Jiang got up, absolutely businesslike, face set like stone, to a point where the fire went right out of Candace's face as she began to sense the gravity of it.

    "What does it mean?"

    "Get your people mobilized. Every one of them needs to have something blue on their clothing. A strip of cloth, paint, bright blue shirt, just something blue. Then you tell them that if someone shouts the word bulldog at them, they must reply immediately with the word shotgun. Is that clear?"

    Like Jiang, Candace was suddenly very somber, understanding dawning on her. "Yes."

    "Blue items, Bulldog, Shotgun," Jiang reminded her. "If this leaks and you betray us, the deal is off and my people kill everyone, and I will absolutely fucking end you with my own bare hands. Are we clear?"

    "Clear."

    "This is going down right now. Call your people."



    Sian Outer System
    16:47


    All five ships arrived together, arriving in a blaze of blue light resolving into the brutal dark grey warships. There was nothing lovely about the Omega, nothing comforting or appealing. It was the ultimate definition of form following function. Not an ounce of its mass was given over to anything other than killing things with the maximum efficiency.

    "Jump successfully, KF drives on cooldown," Commander James relayed the information across the spacious bridge. It was a huge step up from the older Hyperion command center. Twice as many officers manned their stations, plotted markers on the tactical displays, or waited for their orders. They were all nervous. Sheridan didn't blame them.

    "Deploy temporary beacons."

    "Scattering beacons, aye sir."

    That would mark their route back, their escape path. The ship was ready, battlestations were manned, Starfuries were on their racks with engines warm. Man and machine both teetered on the edge of the precipice, that final moment before they lost balance and began the fall.

    "All stations," Sheridan requested. He had to say something, rather than have their last thoughts before battle be their own fears or doubts. He needed them to focus on something else.

    "Connecting communications, all stations, ready."

    "All hands, this is the Captain. We are about to jump into orbit of the enemy homeworld in a strike that might end a war before it starts. This is a rescue mission, but it will also be the fiercest battle many of us will face. Some of you have seen action before, most of you have not, but you are all ready. Trust the men and women beside you, trust the ship, and trust me.

    "We had all hoped to escape war, but that has not been possible. Everything has changed, and while we can forge a path for ourselves, we will only succeed if we are fearless. On the verge of moments like this, I like to remember the words of Abraham Lincoln: The dogmas of the quiet past are inadequate to the stormy present. The occasion is piled high with difficulty, and we must rise with the occasion. As our case is new, so we must think anew, and act anew. The fiery trial through which we pass, will light us down, in honor or dishonor, to the latest generation."

    It was something he had read long ago, something he brought with him to every command, every duty.

    "We will go to Sian, the heart of Liao. We will destroy all opposition, and we will come home. We didn't start this fight, but we are damn well going to finish it. Give 'em hell, Aggy."

    He could see on the faces of the bridge crew, in the way they were now standing, the pride and confidence they showed. They were ready.

    "Captain, Alexander is opening her jump point."

    "Ahead one third, nice and steady, we're hauling a lot of cargo." Sheridan set their path. "The second we hit orbit, weapons free. Don't wait for the order, if it moves it dies."



    Sian Orbit
    16:51


    A Minbari fleet would have put themselves directly over the Forbidden City, in optimum firing position. They would have eliminated their targets before the vortex even closed behind them, and within three minutes, there would be nothing but rubble and flames. Earth could not match that. This was going to be a hard brutal slog, but each and every one of them was steeled for the challenge. This wasn't the Minbari war. They weren't going to lose.

    The opening of the vortex was an unknown phenomenon, and those fighters on patrol above the city didn't know exactly what to make of it. On some level, they knew it was wrong, that it was a very bad sign, but the spectacle itself was so overwhelming, so eerily beautiful in those few instants when they could have acted, that none did. Nothing they did would have stopped what was coming, but they might perhaps have saved themselves.

    The five hardened destroyers arrived one after the other through the single vortex, which meant only one of the five ships had to use its drives, the other four able to keep theirs on standby for a hasty exit. Each instantly opened fire, the twin forward guns sweeping red laser fire across the sky, cutting through the handful of defense satellites immediately in their path, a cascade of bright explosions signaling the start of the mission. The warships quickly fanned out, gun batteries laying down a ferocious barrage of pulse and laser fire in all directions, mowing down the nearest fighter patrols before they could build up enough speed to get clear of the killing zone.

    "Orbital insertion confirmed, engaging all targets of opportunity," Commander James rattled down the list. "Targeting satellites, hostile fighters, and mines."

    "Give me the tactical plot." Sheridan swung his captain's chair about to look at the rapidly updating sensor picture, the Agamemnon crew hastily filling in the details. "No minefields, no ambush, no reason to make a run for it."

    "Shall I begin launch sequence, sir?"

    "Do it, launch fighters and decouple drop ships," Sheridan confirmed. "We're a sitting duck with those things clipped on. Get them loose so we can move at more than a crawl."

    The first big concern of the fleet had been flying into more defenses than expected, which would have required them to abandon the operation entirely. They couldn't risk five ships and such a massive mech force if they were never even going to get to the drop site. With the sky defended, but not saturated, they could at least now fight their way through.

    One by one the dropships detached, docking rings snapping open with small puffs of icy air, allowing the spherical assault units to roll away and give the destroyers freedom to fight. All five warships were laying down a constant hail of fire, switching from lasers to pulse cannons and back again depending on the situation.

    "Tell them to keep in close between us and the Apollo, we'll shield them while Hague screens us," Sheridan ordered. "Put us in position over the city, get ready for a warm welcome."

    Starfuries poured out from the heavily engaged destroyers, each carrying two squadrons of superiority fighters and one squadron of Strike Furies, carrying heavier weapons and a tail gunner. They were immediately intercepted by responding Capellan fighters, the closest defenders surprised but quickly converging now that battle was joined.

    "Strike squadrons, stay close to the ships, provided close cover for the landing force," Jeffrey Sinclair barked across the airwing frequency, sliding his own squadron from the Alexander into lead position. "All other squadrons, break and intercept any targets."

    He opened the throttles, pulling away and up from the destroyer, her flank guns still blasting away at satellites. Most of the armed defense satellites were down for this sector, but there were still a lot of targets, the surveillance and communication satellites relaying accurate targeting data against the task force, for instance. All had to go.

    "Hostiles, forty plus, accelerating hard from the surface," his wingman Mitchell spotted. "Mix of medium and heavies."

    "All squadrons remember, you have to hit them more than once, keep firing until they go down." Sinclair angled his Fury and dropped some altitude to intercept. "They are well armed, don't wait to evade, and get in close! Use your agility!"

    The elite fighters moved as fast as possible. More and more enemy squadrons were being diverted from their patrol sectors to try and keep the Earth Forces busy until reinforcements could be deployed. Right now, Sinclair's squadrons had the numerical advantage, but that wasn't going to last long. He had to exploit it while he could.

    "Alpha squadron, we're going for the heavies," he decided. "Remember, multiple hits unless you get close enough to bullseye the pilot. Engage by pairs, after me."

    The squadron peeled off one after the other, blue flame spearing out from the main thrusters as each leader and wingman pair broke in sequence and vectored into the approaching targets. The Capellans matched them, loosening their formation and selecting targets before launching missiles and starting the game.

    "Alpha Leader, countermeasures."

    "Alpha Two, countermeasures."

    Sinclair and Mitchell both calmly deployed a mixture of chaff, flares, and electronic decoys to help spoof the wave of inbound anti fighter missiles, then took a few sharp evasive turns to break any radar locks an opponent may have on them. Alpha squadron as a whole had little difficulty dodging missiles, but some of the newer squadrons were less lucky. The first few Starfuries began to drop, three brought down by missiles and another two by lasers, one of them far enough down he was already spinning out of control into the upper atmosphere.

    "All squadrons, watch your altitude, atmo deck is damn close and we're not coming back for you! Stay high and don't get spoofed into chasing a target down!"

    It should have been a clear part of their training, but the Minbari War had been vicious for the Starfury corps, leaving Earth with either exceptionally good pilots or exceptionally new ones. The scale of this fight meant that while half the force were hardened veterans, the other half were mostly untested, and while their training was good, nothing could prepare a person for that first real battle.

    "Alpha Squadron going for the merge. Stick close Mitchell, this is going to be a furball."

    "Right with you, Leader."

    Sinclair found his target, a hefty bodied fighter that looked like it had more markings and decoration than it's peers. Maybe a squadron leader, maybe an ace, maybe just someone who made the mistake of being noticeable. He vectored around and rushed in from the flank, gravity tugging and jolting him as the fighter veered. A stream of bright tracers whipping past his canopy as someone tried to engage him from the flank. Sinclair noted it but didn't worry, Mitchell would be on it before it became a problem, he just had to zero his own target.

    The brightly marked fighter must have spotted him and turned toward him, accelerating and rolling into an evasive break. A good response, but it wasn't going to stop Sinclair. He adjusted slightly, rotated to avoid some additional incoming fire, then from head on put a single shot through the canopy of the heavy fighter.

    He fired his maneuvering thrusters and rolled aside, the now out of control fighter skimming under his wings, locked at full burn, Sinclair already lining up on the wingman next, who wisely went full evasive. After seeing his leader downed in one shot, the wingman wasn't going to tangle with Sinclair alone, instead pulling back toward friendly allies. Ultimately, it just meant Sinclair had to fire a few more shots. One through the now easily targeted engines to cut off his escape, one through a wing to make the enemy fighter flip end over end, and as soon as the cockpit came into view, one final shot once again through the canopy.

    It was cold. The myth was pilots only killed enemy machines, they didn't aim for each other, but that was before the Minbari War had taught Earth Force to go for the hard kill as quickly and efficiently as possible. Most of the time there wouldn't be a second chance, and those few who lived to tell the tale had rapidly lost any romanticism or shreds of honor. The veteran pilots of Earth Force were the best in the business, but only by becoming as heartless and efficient as the fighters they flew. It wasn't hard when most had seen whole squadrons wiped out around them.

    Sinclair quickly found a new target. More Capellan craft were piling into the growing orbital battle, which was costing lives on both sides. It was grim but necessary. If they were fighting out here, they weren't threatening the transports.

    "Keep the pressure on them Alpha wing, keep them away from the destroyers."

    The Capellan defences were by now responding in earnest. Pilots ran to their fighters, missile silos went through a hasty launch check, and troops across the planet rushed to their assigned posts. Even with a pirate point jump, the defenders were reasonably expecting an hour or two to man their posts and get ready before they had to act. An enemy showing up directly overhead was not part of their training. Never the less, they moved as fast as they could. In several locations, the tiny specks of the warships were visible overhead, ominously lining up over the capital city.

    "Hague to fleet: assume bombardment positions, stand by to engage assigned targets."

    Each of the five ships were still engaging orbital targets around them, the shell of a broken satellite pancaking into the side of the Alexander and wedging itself there. The gunfire had grown a little less intense as the initial targets had been erased, but they still had to deal with several hostile fighters skirting the Starfury cover and trying to hit the ships on a flank.

    "General, sensors have the main Capellan force turning around and burning our way." Hague's aide Major Ryan kept an eye on the screens. "Estimate twenty minutes until contact with the initial waves of fighters."

    These had been the forces guarding the pirate point, dozens of dropships and carriers filled to the brim with aerospace fighters and whatever missiles could be loaded. They were going to be a challenge due to their sheer numbers, but the real problem would be if they coordinated their attacks with planet based squadrons.

    "Jam their communications," Hague ordered. "Focus on the planet first. Airbases, missile centres, communication facilities, staging areas."

    "Set, General."

    "Begin firing pattern."

    The destroyers had orientated themselves to hold in orbit. They were far too low to sit in geosynch, so they had to keep a periodic burn to maintain their position over the Forbidden city. The Agamemnon and Apollo were still descending, the dropships nestled between the two immense blocks of armed metal, using the sheer mass of the Omegas as a shield. They would both park themselves as low as possible and provide direct fire support for the landing forces, while the other three ships covered them and maintained overwatch.

    First, though, the fleet had to clear a path for the dropships, and that meant the removal of anything that looked even slightly threatening. All five ships aligned over the region and turned their forward and lower guns to the planet, the cannons on the upper surface still spluttering at random hostiles that strayed too close.

    "Weapons set for area attack, target areas locked. Beginning initial strike pattern."

    Simultaneously, the destroyers unleashed their wrath on the planet below, the first strikes targeted against airfields. Lasers fell like red lances of light that touched the ground in a thunderous flash of boiling moisture and melting rock. The lasers had lost a lot of power to the atmosphere, the diffusion and bloom scattering much of their strength, the air itself absorbing their heat, but enough remained to tear up the runways and cook any fighter still on the ground.

    Capellan pilots launched as fast as they could, most foregoing full checks, some going full afterburner on taxi ways to get airborne before their base came under devastating fire. Some hardy examples ploughed through the grassy flats in an attempt to avoid the runways, orbital laser strikes melting and splitting the ground around them, leaving deep rents that radiated heat like an oven. Some succeeded in getting airborne, some did not.

    "General, ground based ballistic missiles are starting to launch." Ryan kept monitoring. "Marking their locations."

    "Switch targets, engage current threats, then return to suppressing the airbases."

    "On it, sir."

    "Have Agamemnon and Apollo engage their targets as soon as possible. I want operations moving to the assault phase in fifteen minutes or less."

    The destroyers altered their tactics slightly. The big laser cannons continued carving away at ground targets, while the secondary turrets switched to intercept mode and engaged the incoming missiles. In their boost phase, the ballistic missiles were still picking up speed as they fought against gravity, making them easy enough targets. The destroyers were keeping ahead of the situation for now, but the problem was they could only hit targets they could see. While bases and defenses around the capital city were being savaged, all of the other facilities shielded by the curvature of the planet were launching their fighters and missiles unhindered, with orders to converse on the aggressors.

    "Captain, we are at our assigned altitude." Commander James halted the engines. "Holding station above the Forbidden city."

    "Prepare for heavy bombardment. Switch reserve power to the forward plasma cannons."

    "Aye sir, switching launchers to plasma mode, full charge in twenty seconds."

    The Agamemnon and Apollo rotated downward, setting the front of their ships to face the city below. As they did, so the vast oblong cannons hanging from the chin of the ship began their initiation sequence. Like the other weapons, they would lose a lot of their energy to the atmosphere, but these guns were so vast and delivered such a volume of plasma it didn't matter much.

    "Firing solution set, targeting ground based fortifications, defensive batteries, staging areas, and transport links."

    "Commence firing."

    The two destroyers began a methodical bombardment, great masses of green energized plasma leaving the fixed forward guns in steady bursts. A few at one target before the ship moved slightly to bring another into arc. The other three ships maintained their own precision strikes, swatting missiles and pinpointing bridges to stop a coordinated response, all the while the dropships impatiently waited for the order to go.



    On the surface, there was panic, the population fleeing as quickly as they could to the public bunkers, families running with whatever their most easily grabbed possessions were. Children, pets, heirlooms, memories. None had expected this city to be placed under threat, not here on Sian, and not with such suddenness. There was no plan to deal with this, local police and the army funneling and directing the people as best they could.

    "What happened to the early warning systems?" Candace demanded as she stormed through the administration officers tied to the palace. "We were supposed to have two to three hours notice!"

    "I don't know excellency." A very nervous older man in a badly fitted suit bowed to her, presumably the most expendable of her loyalist team and hence the one sent to absorb her wrath. "We didn't detect them until they were already in orbit."

    "Did you know about this?" She jabbed a finger at Jiang, who had stayed close behind her as she rallied her support.

    "I'm not a sailor, I can't speak to the specific abilities of our warships." He shrugged. "I do know that this is just the prelude. Do you have enough shelters for these people?"

    "Yes, yes, easily, there's the underground metro tubes too." Candace waved away the concerns. "They'll be fine. Will we be fine?"

    "Yes, but we have to keep moving," Jiang assured. "There's bound to be a ground assault soon."

    "Mistress." The subordinate tried to finish his report. "We have identified three possible locations for the prisoners, we are acting now to secure each of them."

    "That will have to be good enough," Candace grudgingly allowed. "Ambassador Sheridan won't be with them. Have my personal guards meet me at the sunken entrance to the Celestial Palace. We'll go rescue him personally."

    "At once." The man scuttled away, both pleased and surprised to still be breathing. Candace turned toward Jiang, pausing to gaze out from a window in the office. Beyond the sun was low in the late afternoon sky, the orange haze it created shrouded in distant smoke from the orbital bombardment. Red lines of energy reached down from far above, the distant beams scraping across the land leaving more smoke in their wake.

    "I suppose I can use this, it will eliminate a lot of forces loyal to my father." She looked up to see several bright points falling from above like meteors to add to the destruction. "If they are gone, it will reduce resistance to my regime, but if I don't..."

    The first of the newer falling lights struck the ground, the heavy plasma bolts releasing vastly more energy than the lasers. It created a dome of fire that instantly removed any low clouds above it and blasted a ring of dust and debris at supersonic speed away from its base. The sheer violence was on a different level to the lasers, the incandescent plasma immolating a forward operating base in the instant it touched the ground.

    Candace was caught off guard by Jiang tackling her, roughly grabbing her around the waist and dropping her hard on the floor, knocking the breath from her. A heartbeat after he did so, the window exploded inward in a hail of razorsharp glass and stinging dust, the roar of the explosion all encompassing, its heat stiffening their clothes even at this distance.

    "What the fuck!" Candace yelled, dragging herself up and shaking off the dust from her clothes. "You said there wouldn't be nukes!"

    "That wasn't a nuke, that was just a plasma shot." Jiang rose up and looked out at the massive pillar of black smoke rolling with red flame. "They're taking out the fortresses, the ground based defenses."

    Two more hit fairly close by, once again Jiang instinctively dragging Candace flat as the blast waves assaulted the city, this time stripping away tiles from the roof over their heads, giving them an expanding view of the sky above.

    "Are they done?" Candace demanded angrily again pushing herself up to look out of the window, much of the view now obscured in black smoke and fires. There was a loud crash as half a supply truck fell from the sky and went through the roof of an office complex, the vehicle hurled for miles by the force of the explosions. If the lasers had caused panic, the plasma bolts escalated the situation to pure chaos.

    "If they are, it means the troops are on the way, which means we need to double time it to the palace," Jiang emphasised. "Are your people ready?"

    "They will be."

    "Then we better go before this city becomes a warzone."



    "Registering good hits on selected targets." Major Ryan correlated the information coming in from the various ships. "We've hit all of the local targets we can. The remaining bases are inside the city and close to civilian centers."

    "We'll leave them to the airstrikes," Hague decided. "Where are the enemy space forces?"

    "We have a cluster of about seventy missiles crossing the north pole and heading our way," Ryan checked. "A lot of them are probably nuclear. There are also about four hundred fighters coming in from the Pirate point, I'd guess that's the bulk of their response force."

    "Then we better do something about it before it becomes a problem. Order Achilles and Athena to load energy mines and engage incoming fighters. We'll handle the missiles."

    The trio of escorting destroyers shifted formation again, always continuing to screen the landing ships and staying aware of inbound enemy forces. The Alexander turned to face the forces coming in from the farside of the planet, putting her back to back with her sisters, the warships arming to take on enemies from both directions.

    "Athena and Achilles report energy mines loaded, firing."

    The Energy Mine was not a human invention. Earth had purchased the technology from the Narn for an extortionate amount of money, and the Omega was the first ship capable of mounting them. Nothing more than a blob of anti-protons launched at the enemy lines and designed to detonate in the midst of a fighter group or missile salvo, they were simple weapons with no real anti-ship ability unless a gunner was good enough to score a direct hit. They worked well as anti fighter weapons for the Narn, but didn't really fit human doctrine that preferred to counter enemy fighters with Starfuries and superlative point defenses. Until, of course, the Minbari had rendered those options almost worthless.

    In this case, they were a good way to catch the enemy by surprise. The Capellans were smart enough to know massed attacks were the quickest way to saturate point defenses, so had clustered their units together. It was logical and would have made life very difficult for Sinclair's pilots, but put them at a severe disadvantage against energy mines.

    The two escorts fired a pair of mines each, the shimmering orbs of energy racing out to arrive in an equal distant pattern, exploding around the enemy formation so the blastwaves converged in the center. The Alexander waited a little longer before firing, timing her attack to strike the much closer targets at the same instant as the more distant weapons. The Alexander had a slightly more difficult task. The incoming hostiles were much closer and their proximity to the planet made targeting more difficult.

    Both sets detonated together, bright flashes of light followed by a wall of antiprotons that doused the nearby craft in antimatter. It wasn't a hefty amount of anti protons, not enough to immediately vaporize a target, but it was enough to annihilate the outer surface of everything it touched. The composition didn't matter, missile or fighter, anything exposed to the wave of antimatter sparked and flashed way. Secondary explosions as fuel and munitions cooked off finished the job, gutting the massed fighter and missile formations.

    Despite the tremendous and unexpected level of destruction, there were still plenty of Capellan fighters left, some shorn of their outer fuselage armor and sporting swathes of pitted and cracked damage across their hulls. They pulled back to regroup, the strike buying some time, but also ensuring the Capellans wouldn't make the same mistake twice.

    "That should make them think twice." Hague was clearly pleased with the result. "Status of the ground defences?"

    "Successfully destroyed or suppressed, General."

    "Give the go order to the landing ships." Hague at last gave the order. "Then assume a defensive position above the city and brace for a renewed attack."

    "Aye sir, sending the word."

    The Agamemnon and Apollo moved aside, clearing the way for the cluster of dropships to begin their journey and begin the main phase of the mission. Aerospace fighters, mostly in bright Dragoon colors but with a few AFFS craft mixed in, began launching one after the other, edging forward on thrusters to take screening positions ahead of the assault.

    "Wolf to all units, move into drop position and begin initial de-orbit burn." Jaime performed final checks on his venerable Archer, the old mech still formidable in the right hands. "This will be a fast drop, expect a lot of turbulence, don't spare the retro burn because we won't have a lot of aerobraking."

    "Jump jet units are first out the door once we reach safe speed," Natasha added. "Clear the initial Landing Zone and wait for reinforcements. Once we are down, pure aggression people, we are outgunned, outnumbered, and isolated. Our best weapon is going to be fury."

    "Nobody has seen an attack like this since the reconquest of Terra, and you can bet there is a damn good reason for that," Jaime tied things up. "If anyone in the galaxy can make this work, it's us. Let's all go become legends. Fighters ahead, dropships begin powered descent."

    The spherical and oblong craft fired their engines, taking them away from the shelter of the two destroyers, both still maintaining a steady rate of fire from all weapons. Even from orbit, it was possible to see the smoke around the city below created by burning bases and airfields scattered around the outskirts. In the near distance, fighter squadrons still battled, the Earth Force Starfuries gradually falling back as more and more Capellan craft piled in. The escorting destroyers were still mostly untouched, sometimes firing on a fighter that came too close or spitting out some pulse fire to intercept an inbound missile. It was a beautiful sight, if one didn't know that each flash was an act of destruction, a life potentially ending.

    By far the most amazing sight was a coruscating green aurora in the upper atmosphere around them, Sian's magnetic field catching high energy particles left from the Alexander's energy mines in a gleaming display visible across the hemisphere, even in the early evening light. It gave the landing an eerie feeling, the interior of the dropships illuminated milky green as they passed through the aurora and started buffeting against the sky itself.
     
    Chapter 21Part 2
  • 21B

    The Forbidden City
    Sian
    17:07


    "We estimate enemy forces will land within ten minutes, fighters could be overhead at any second."

    Maximilian Liao acknowledged the report with a brief tip of his head, not stopping or breaking pace as he marched from his palace to a secure underground control room. While he had preferred to remain above ground, the increasingly dire situation finally prompted him to seek shelter.

    "Our defences?"

    "Heavily depleted."

    Liao grunted, not entirely surprised, but still rather disappointed.

    "Our fighter groups are still pressing the attack, the reserves should be joining at any moment."

    "Nobody lands until the enemy is destroyed. If they fail, they will find a bullet waiting for them when they return," the Chancellor said simply. "See to it."

    "Yes, Excellency."

    He turned to follow the path to his destination, only to find his daughter Romano half running toward him from the opposite direction, a look of deep concern on her face.

    "Go ahead." Maximilian ordered away his courtiers. "I will be along shortly."

    They bowed and departed, giving their chancellor a brief moment with his child.

    "Romano, I ordered you to the castle outside the city. The Liao name needs to live on and your brother is not suited for the task."

    "How can I leave your side father? Look out there! They are coming here for you!"

    "If they are, they will find me ready for whatever they bring." Maximilian smiled slightly. "I am not afraid as long as I know the family will continue, and for that, I need you to go."

    A nearby impact shook the building, dust fluttering down from the rafters above, a haze in the orange sunlight.

    "I don't want to leave you, father."

    "There are more important things than what you want, Romano," Maximilian answered sternly. "You are the daughter of the greatest of houses, your birthright is to be First Lord of a new Star League and rule all the worlds we know. What you want right now doesn't matter, the needs of Liao always come first."

    "I don't care about that! I won't let them kill you!"

    Maximilian gave Romano a short sharp slap across her cheeks, taking her completely by surprise.

    "I admire your loyalty, but never say to anyone that you do not care about your birthright and the glory of Liao. We die, Liao lives on. Swear it."

    She hesitated, eyes filling as she confronted the moment. She was still young, confident and forthright yes, but she was realising now just how much she still didn't know.

    "Swear it," Maximilian demanded again, not letting this go.

    "I swear it."

    "Good." He loosened a little. "Good. If I fall today, your sister will rule. Do not oppose her, she will kill you. Bide your time, watch her, prepare for your opportunity."

    "I don't know if I can do all of this," Romano admitted. "Where do I start?"

    "You have drive, passion, you are relentless. Of all my children, you are the one most like me, and most suited to rule." Maximilian gave a nod. "Use your time, do not rush in, and do not underestimate your sister. Now go, find shelter, and if all does not go well, remember the future of Liao is yours, not your sister's."

    He turned his back and walked away, there was nothing more to be said. Romano had all the necessary skills and attributes to succeed him, she just needed the time to hone them. Hopefully she would be clever enough to understand that. If not, she didn't deserve to rule.

    He headed down a ramp to his command bunker, it wasn't buried especially deep, but was extremely well fortified, with warship grade armour layered over the walls and roof. Heavy doors ground open to permit their Chancellor access, the relatively small interior packed with screens, tactical displays, and a dozen military technicians relaying information to a trio of Senior Colonels. They all stopped to salute their leader, Maximilian waving them down and releasing them to continue.

    He took his place at the back of the room, the massive doors closing to secure them in their little sanctuary. From here, he could oversee the entire situation, watch the screens shift, give orders if he wished, preside over the potential downfall of his Chancellorship. Whatever the end result, recovering from this would be difficult. The image of power and infallibility he had crafted around himself had taken significant damage here. Purges would be needed.

    "Perhaps you are more valuable than I expected." He glanced at the odd man out in the command bunker. David Sheridan, flanked by a pair of Commandos. "They are making a serious effort to retrieve you."

    "It's not just me, it's all of us," David replied flatly. "And more than that, it's setting an example."

    "You realise that whatever happens here, it must now end with the Confederation flag flying over your planets. I cannot allow this to go unanswered."

    "You're welcome to try."

    That made the Chancellor smile.

    "Exactly the right answer."



    "Landing Zone confirmed, the Zen Park, south west quadrant." Jaime Wolf checked the display in his Archer, everything shaking and shuddering as the dropship initiated braking manoeuvres. "Big enough and flat enough to put us all down in."

    "Obvious too," Natasha's voice crackled. "Fifty bills says they've got that whole area pre-registered for artillery."

    "That's why we have an air force." Jaime maintained his cheer. "All squadrons, Alpha Actual, break and commence close air support. Dropships, open bay doors and prepare to release the first wave."

    On his word, the various attached Aerospace Fighters accelerated, switching from escort duty to suppression. The Earth Force ships had done their job on a theatre level taking out bases, airfields, bridges, and rally points, but could not engage targets within the city. Their weapons weren't precise enough and President Levy was keen to keep civilian casualties low. Instead, the Dragoons would have to do it themselves, using their strike fighters and whatever indirect weapons they brought down with them.

    The varied craft pulled in low, sweeping across the city at rooftop level, the first wave of nimble and fast light fighters attempting to draw fire so the second wave of heavier craft could identify and destroy enemy positions. The Capellans didn't play along, refusing to take the bait and keeping their weapons cold as the fighters roared overhead. They knew they couldn't stop the landing, instead they would wait and try to ambush whatever walked their way.

    "Alpha Actual, this is Foxtrot, commencing strike." The overall fighter wing commander announced. "ETA twenty seconds."

    "Copy that," Jaime acknowledged. "Alpha to drop teams, go in thirty seconds, thirty seconds."

    The actual landing required perfect coordination, each of different elements performing their role, timed down to the second. If any one group messed up, it could derail the entire operation, turning a well planned drop into a hastily thrown together, stumbling brawl. The fighters did their job first, six heavies rolling in at low level and strafing the area around the landing zone, shredding buildings with laser and particle weapons, blasting any obvious firing positions. A second wave came in almost immediately behind them, scattering cluster bombs at low level that crackled and ripped through the foliage of the park.

    While the fighters were still roaring away and pulling up, the first lances of jump jet equipped mechs were stepping out into thin air and falling, a mixture of units tasked with establishing a perimeter and securing the landing zone for the dropships. Usually the dropships held back or at least slowed down to give the first landers some time to sweep and clear the sector, but not today. Nobody was waiting around for any reason on this mission, the first wave had to get the job done fast.

    The mechs used their jump jets to stabilise their descent, the warriors taking a few shots on the way down against anything that looked suspicious. A building, a treeline, a shape in one of the park lakes. Nothing fired back. Behind them, the armed dropships were also delivering some gunfire, obliterating a handful of buildings that would be overlooking the landing zone. Still there was no return fire, even as the first mechs put their metal feet down on Sian itself.

    "First lances down, dropships on the ground in thirty seconds." Jaime checked the timer in his cockpit, everything still on schedule. "No fire yet."

    "No way we already killed them all." Natasha was busy checking her own sensor feeds. "What are they waiting for?"

    "They're picking their ground, the park is too open, they'll hit us in the city," Jaime reasoned. "Bog us down in urban combat until they mass for a counter attack."

    "That'll be fun."

    "I wish they'd just let us level the city, no urban combat if your city is a pile of dust." Jaime exhaled. "Never mind, standby for touchdown."

    "Ready to go."

    "Once we're out, keep close to my command lance," he instructed his best warrior. "We'll go where we're needed most."

    "Just point me at whatever needs to die."

    For the last section of the drop, the spherical vessels throttled up to bleed off the last of their speed, clouds of white vapour pouring across the land, serving to obscure the landing itself. Each of the drop ships put itself down, forming an arc, crushing trees beneath them and setting fires amid the grass and well maintained flowerbeds of the park. Before the engines fully shut down, the mechs were disembarking, each war machine stomping out and creating an expanding circle, guns and sensors tracking and sweeping.

    "Alright, Beta Regiment give me a layered perimeter, defence in depth. Secure this position and let nothing through." Jaime checked the position of his troops as he stepped down the ramp from his ship. "Alpha Regiment form by battalion, we're going on a more aggressive form of defence."

    He was answered by a chorus of acknowledgements.

    "Third Guards, you're the reserve," Wolf rounded up. "Take position at the north end of the park and be ready to advance as needed."

    "Understood," Hanse Davion answered, voice absolutely rock steady. "Taking position."

    "Earth Force Rangers are coming in now, give them space. Beta Regiment, Guards, handle their fire support if needed."

    "Copy that."

    "Keep your channels open and call targets as you see them." Jaime did a final look around, for better or worse, they were on the deck now and had a job to do. "Alpha, begin the advance, crescent formation, urban drill."

    The mech forces set about their orders, the green machines of Beta Regiment heading to the edges of the park to set up a strong defensive position, securing roads and placing each lance in a mutually supporting pattern. As they did so, Alpha Regiment began its advance, moving swiftly but carefully through the city to try and draw attention toward itself, rather than Beta regiment. Jaime hoped that by presenting the more immediate threat, the Capellans would have no choice but to deal with him as a priority, not the dropships.

    Behind them and among the larger dropships landed the Earth made assault shuttles, delta bodied Hades class craft carrying a company of men each who rapidly disembarked and fanned out, laden with rifles and grey body armour. Like the dropships, the shuttles would remain landed, their engines idle and gun turrets scanning the sky for danger. It didn't take long for the Capellans to react, the weapons on the dropships snapping upwards and opening fire as the first long range missiles were hurled their way.

    "Third Guards, deploy in echelon, watch your spacing." Hanse managed the Battalion of mechs as they arrayed themselves for action, making sure they didn't bunch up and make themselves easy targets for artillery. "Any movement in the nearby buildings?"

    Each lance leader responded in the negative, the local area apparently evacuated very successfully. It meant at least his forces wouldn't need to hold back once the real fighting started. Overhead, a trio of fighters roared over at low level, seeking the Capellan rocket artillery and answering with swift salvoes of gunfire. Closer by, he watched the squads of infantry rapidly getting to work, kicking down doors and entering the palace from multiple directions. From what he knew, the Earth Force Rangers were highly trained veterans and quite capable of getting the job done, but they were up against well armed and well trained opponents guarding the heart of their nation. The Capellans weren't going to give an inch.

    "Any units on this frequency, Ranger Four requesting support!"

    That was one of the reserved channels set aside for cross faction use. Neither side had been given time to drill with each other, apart from a few shared briefings between unit commanders about tactics and what each side counted as strengths. This wasn't considered a huge issue as the mechs and infantry were deployed separately, but in an emergency, they did have the option to call on each other for help.

    "Ranger Four, Davion Lead here, go ahead on this channel."

    "We're under heavy fire, Courtyard Two, Northside, requesting anything you can throw at them."

    "I have you, Rangers." Hanse checked his multifunction screen, calling up a basic wireframe map of the palace, the information relayed to him from the Destroyers overhead. The location was close by, he might as well do it himself. "Hold tight, we're on our way." He quickly switched to his own unit frequency. "Command Lance on me, All other groups standby, defensive posture."

    He was glad to be doing something, standing around waiting for a task in the middle of the grandest raid in lifetimes wasn't in his blood. He negotiated through the park and into the urban sprawl of the city, his Lance with him professionally checking for anti mech teams or vehicles waiting in ambush. His target was just beyond the perimeter, the flash of gunfire and bright energy bolts telling him exactly where he needed to be.

    The fight looked incredibly intense, from his high vantage point Hanse could look down on the courtyard and see the Capellan defenders manning windows, embrasures, and emplacements covering the open approaches. Earth Force troops were in cover at the far side of the yard, behind some low walls and structures, with several dead or wounded showing where the initial assault had failed. Hanse guessed a flanking attack was probably underway, but given the very tight timescale involved, it would be far better for the Rangers to charge straight through. That he could help with.

    As soon as he moved out from cover, his mech was tagged as the primary threat, a pair of light autocannons swinging up from their previous task chewing up cover the Rangers were hiding behind and plinking shots into the Battlemaster. The AC 2 wasn't much of a threat to his superior warmachine, but even a mosquito bite could prove fatal to the arrogant.

    "Suppressive fire, pin them down and sweep the defences clear," he swiftly ordered, the power indicators on his weapons all reading green. "Fire at will."

    Hanse's Lance mates answered, joining their leader to open up on the defensive line, cutting into the reinforced facade of the building. The smarter Capellans took cover as medium lasers sliced into the defences, the less smart ones vanishing in expanding clouds of pink steam. Both autocannons received special attention, Hanse's support slamming their mounts with a few PPC shots, followed up with heavy machine gun bursts.

    "Four, prepare smoke rounds," Hanse ordered. "I'm opening the door."

    The door in question was several tons or armoured steel, it had been clad in wood to blend in with the aesthetic of the palace, just like the reinforced concrete walls had been clad in ornate plaster, but the tirade of fire from the Rangers had blasted away most of the surface, revealing its true nature.

    "Rangers, brace for shock and flash," Hanse warned before leveling his heavy PPC and dumping a full charge into the door, the intense blue beam blindingly bright at close range. It speared across the courtyard and easily broke through the doors, collapsing much of the structure above them in the process. As he cleared the way, one of his allies put a trio of smoke shots into the courtyard to keep the Rangers hidden as they made their charge.

    "Lance, covering fire. Rangers, all yours now."

    "Copy that Davion Lead, we're on the way!"

    Hanse and his lance sprayed machine gun fire into the smoke as the Rangers rolled out of cover and bolted through the smoke, the mechs ceasing fire when they judged the Earth Force troops had reached their target.

    "Good work lance," Hanse acknowledged their good work. "Resume defensive posture and be alert for more requests."



    "Light armour, two o'clock, moving up fast!"

    "Two Lance, pivot and engage." Jaime Wolf expertly adjusted his formation. "One and Three Lance maintain advance, I need that market place swept clean."

    "Anti tank guns in the market place!"

    "Suppress and destroy. Four Lance, move ahead and screen for counter attacks."

    The green icons on his map display moved swiftly into their respective positions, each one displaying the flexibility and aggression the Dragoons demanded of their warriors. One by one, the red icons blinked out, exactly as expected.

    "Good work, keep an eye on your ammunition, don't waste it on the small fry."

    "No major enemy movements yet," Natasha called in, her jet black Marauder standing at Jaime's side. "Think they all got toasted?"

    "Not a chance, they'll be here." Jaime kept a watch on the overall tactical map, the display transmitted to his mech from the warships hanging overhead. "And they'll be good."

    "I really, really hope so." Natasha savoured the prospect. "Bleeding Hearts?"

    "If you mean the Red Lancers? Guaranteed." Jaime confirmed with a little less enthusiasm. "Best unit the Cappies have, going to be the fight of our lives."

    "Fight of our lives so far." Natasha giggled happily. "Speaking of, incoming."

    "Incoming?" An instant later his map lit up with warning signals. "All units, hold and take cover! missiles inbound!"

    Alpha Regiment rapidly broke off its push and sheltered against the nearest convenient buildings, shoving their metal mass against the brick clad concrete. The apartment blocks and offices weren't fortified, of course, but they did at least trigger the impact fuses on the incoming missile barrage and absorbed much of the blast, allowing the mechs to shrug off the remaining damage. They weathered the initial storm well, but immediately after, there were several deep explosions, two of which brought down entire housing blocks on top of a few sheltering mechs in clouds of grey dust.

    "That wasn't a missile!" Jaime pulled the sensor logs frantically checking the readings. "That's real artillery!"

    "Long Toms, at least two batteries, probably two hundred kilo super heavy shells." Natasha was faster. "Checking trajectory."

    Another barrage fell, again missiles and among them the far more dangerous artillery rounds. This time, they scored a clean hit on one of the Dragoon's medium mechs, cartwheeling the machine twice and throwing limbs and weapons in all directions.

    "Those missiles are making it hard to isolate the Long Toms, but I think I have it, thirty five kilometres north west," Natasha relayed. "Well outside of range, I can't narrow it down any further."

    "Good enough." Jaime switched frequencies. "Wolf to Sheridan, come in Sheridan."

    "Go for Agamemnon." A crackly voice answered his call.

    "Request fire support, grid gamma six. Hidden artillery battery has us ranged and pinned."

    "We see nothing there, are the coordinates confirmed?"

    Another salvo dropped, rattling Jaime's mech.

    "Very fucking confirmed, Aggy."

    "Copy that, we can't see a target so we'll remove the entire grid square. Standby."

    The camouflaged artillery park had avoided detection until it opened fire, with its position now exposed, the crews were rapidly limbering up to relocate and avoid retaliation. Some of the crew transports were fast enough to make it clear before the orbital strike, but the bigger slow moving cannons were not. Both assigned destroyers barraged the grid with full salvoes from the plasma cannons, the oblong weapons putting two dozen rounds each into the target zone, turning everything for five kilometres into serrated glass.

    "That's going to do it." Natasha was grinning from ear to ear. "This is a real fucking war now."

    "This is what it must have been like back before the League, when everyone solved their problems with orbital strikes." Jaime was far less enthusiastic. "We won't waste it. Alpha Regiment, resume the advance, those LRM launchers are close and reloading. Find them and make them very sorry."

    The mechs moved again, several shrugging off lumps of concrete masonry before crunching over the rubble to continue their attack. The Capellans apparently weren't too concerned about things like collateral damage. The Forbidden City was starting to see itself hollowed out by the street fighting, but at least they were smart enough to employ a layered defence. The Dragoons hadn't met any major opposition, but they had been slowed down fighting smaller pockets of enemies. Jaime recognised it as a classic delaying action, probably Max himself directing expendable units into their path to buy time for the real attack to assemble. A cold and ruthless strategy, but effective.

    "Pick up the pace." He ordered, glancing at the immense pillars of smoke and fire left by the Earth Force bombardment. Natasha was right, this is what real war looked like, not the ritualised raids and regiment scale contests of the Inner Sphere. Neither the Great Houses nor the Clans had used orbital strikes so casually in lifetimes, and it wasn't something anyone sane wanted to see back as a doctrine. Yet here it was, an echo of past atrocities and the unspoken promise of worse to come. The current era of war was over, the next would be apocalyptic.



    Romano Liao was out of the Staff Car before it had fully stopped, breaking into an immediate run across the parade ground as warplanes howled overhead at low level. Soldiers rushed in all directions individually or in small groups to man their posts, not even noticing her, just one more warm body amid the chaos preparing for battle. Ahead was the partially buried and heavily reinforced hangar housing a Company of the Red Lancers, the great metal doors partly opened as jeeps overflowing with warriors and ground crew raced in recklessly.

    "Mistress Liao!" A voice called out, the Company commander Major Judith Albemarle intercepting her. "Mistress Romano, the VIP bunker is..."

    "Is my mech ready?" She cut her off, maintaining a brisk jog and forcing Albemarle to fall in beside her.

    "Always, but this is a full scale assault, it's no place for a junior mech warrior."

    She stopped and glared at her. "I am a Liao, what does it matter how old I am? You need every warrior out there and more than that, you need a Liao in the field standing tall with our brothers and sisters."

    "These aren't provincial militia, we've identified Wolf's Dragoons and a unit of the Davion Guards, these are elite mechwarriors, Mistress. Most of us won't be coming back."

    "All the more reason at least one Liao should be out there." She resumed her swift walk to the Hangar bay, acutely aware that she was disobeying her father. "I'm not going to throw my life away, but I will not cower and hide when my world, my world, is under attack."

    "If I can't convince you, at least assign yourself to the command lance, not the assault units."

    "As you wish," Romano accepted. "I'll focus on coordinating each unit and deploying them in support of each other."

    "Thank you, Mistress. We can lose the city, even the planet, but we cannot lose the future of House Liao."

    Within the Hangar Bay, mechs were coming to life, their reactors whirring and spinning up while the maintenance and ordnance crews finished up and began clearing each machine for action. They were energised, fully committed and ready to go into action without hesitation, even if the odds were steep. The Red Lancers were the premier unit of the Capellan Armed Forces, a title often disputed with the Prefectorate Guards who were also mobilising units to drive back the invaders. Perhaps today would settle the contest once and for all.

    Romano took the gantry stairs two at a time, boots clanking on metal as she ascended to her mech. She had already changed into a hand made cooling suit on the way over, a privilege of rank, and waiting for her at the top was her chief mechanic with Star League neuro helmet in hand.

    "You're all green, Mistress Romano, fully armed and operational."

    "Thank you, Alexei." She took the helmet and leaned into the cockpit of her Highlander, double checking everything was where she left it. "Did the rest of my lance check in?"

    "They're at Station Nicholas, wrong side of town, Ma'am." He shook his head. "But the Red Lancers will find a place for the daughter of Liao."

    "Not for the first time." She climbed into her seat, her mechanic hooking up her helmet and checking her seat restraints. "I doubt there'll be time for reloads. Grab a rifle when we launch, Alexei, and help defend this place."

    "As you order, Mistress."

    "Be brave, but be smart. I need a good mechanic."

    "Give them hell, Mistress." Alexei rapped the top of her helmet to indicate all was in order. "Glory to Liao!"

    The hatch clanked shut with finality, the protective shell feeling increasingly like a very elaborate tomb. She banished the thoughts, however terrified she felt, Romano had a duty to perform, one befitting her rank and station. She knew her limitations, as much as her heart wished it, she could not lead this counter attack, she didn't have the experience to coordinate a regiment scale combat mission. Nor was she truly an ace pilot, able to duel the enemies she faced. But at the same time, she wasn't just a pretty little mascot, cheering from the sidelines. She was the Daughter of Liao, and she would do what she could to defend her home.

    "First Company form on me, stand by at your marks." The reassuringly steady voice of Major Albemerle took control of the unit. "Mistress Romano, stay with my Command Lance, we will be close to the action."

    "I'll be ready Major, and I will accept your orders," Romano confirmed.

    "Step up beside me, once the doors open we run and we don't stop until we contact the enemy."

    Romano's heart was thumping, all her training and lectures in no way preparing her for this moment, this dread that was running ice through her veins. Was it because she was young and untested in war, or did even veterans feel like this before battle began? She had to try and take her mind off it, to focus on something else in these last moments before all hell was unleashed. Perhaps she could help her fellow warriors too.

    "Warriors of the Red Lancers." She set her machine to broadcast over loudspeakers, audible to the rest of the company and anyone else nearby. "I am Romano Liao, Daughter of House Liao. I am honoured to go into battle beside you today. Nowhere will you find warriors as noble and as fierce as you, my comrades, nor as loyal and true."

    The big steel doors began to part, the crack and hiss of weapons growing louder, the instant of battle growing nearer.

    "The Red Lancers carry the blood of Liao with them into battle. You carry the heart of Ilsa Liao in your steel hands, her memory and honour walks with you, she watches your deeds in battle and will praise your names to your ancestors. As you gave battle with her, I ask you to give me a place in your ranks, to carry a Daughter of Liao into glory once again!"

    Beyond the doors, the world was torn asunder, the blood red sky rent with orbital strikes, darting fighters locked in their death dance over their heads, fires pumping black acrid smoke through the trampled city.

    "The enemy is at our gates! They trample the serenity of our home! They defile our hallowed ground! They dare bring war to the heart of our nation? They dare to mock us and rampage within sight of our Chancellor? They dare to shake the bones of our ancestors with the tramp of their mechs? No! No! They will be punished for this outrage! They will bring down the wrath of the six heavens upon their heads like thunder! And we are chosen to deliver the vengeance of Liao!"

    The doors opened fully, the Red Lancer's path was set.

    "Rise up, my brothers and sisters! Strike down the invaders! Charge forth! Carry the blood of Liao, the honour of our home, the wrath of the heavens and every ancestor! Let them remember our names for the next ten thousand years! Uraaa!"

    "Lancers advance, advance and engage." Even Major Albemarle sounded ready for death or glory now. If this raid really was an epoch making event, then the Red Lancers would make sure the final chapter was written by them. "Uraaa!"

    The company took up the war cry as they stormed out of the hangar bay, the ground shaking at the passing of the assault force, the titanic warmachines moving with a passion and purpose even the elites of Capella had rarely felt. This was a battle for the honour of their home and whether they lived or died mattered little. What mattered was that they stood brave before the might of the enemy and fulfilled their long oaths to the children of Liao.

    The Red Lancers charged out into the dying sun, the world rent around them, orbital debris falling as fiery rain while warship strikes thundered deafeningly. It was as close a measure of the apocalypse as any could imagine and every man and woman charged straight into it without a second of hesitation. For death, glory, and the wrath of heaven.
     
    21C
  • 21C

    17:24 hours
    Celestial palace
    Sian


    “Pack those files! Just shove them in a bag!” Colonel Dubrov worked as fast as he could, frantically emptying cabinets full of documents and stuffing them into whatever was at hand, clawing open drawer after drawer as fast as his hands could manage. One of the quirks of his department was that many records were still recorded on paper as a security measure. Hacking a manila envelope was, of course, impossible, but it also meant that moving them was far more difficult. It hadn't been considered a problem, after all, who was going to storm the heart of the Confederation?

    “Get those interrogation reports!” He gestured sharply for one of his subordinates, his small squad of six people loading bags and boxes onto a trolley. “Forget the transcripts, just the key notes, first few pages of every file!”

    The gunfire was still distant but it was definitely getting closer, the clatter of automatic rifles mixed with the hiss and sizzle of the attacker's plasma weapons. They had recovered a few from the EA transport ship and while lacking in range, the weapons were very nasty in close quarter battle.

    “What about the...” One of his squad began to ask a question and then just stopped mid sentence, suddenly frozen.

    “About what?” Dubrov turned to the man. “Mikhail, what? Spit it out!”

    Mikhail remained totally still for another few moments, then in one unbidden fluid movement, unholstered his sidearm, placed the muzzle under his chin, and pulled the trigger.

    The rest of the squad bolted for cover, crouching behind whatever desks or nearby office furniture, preparing their fight or flight responses. There was no enemy visible, just the sight of their comrade falling to the ground and their Colonel speckled with blood.

    “He... he just shot himself.” Dubrov was saying the words, but hadn't grasped the reality yet. These people were his staff, interrogators or assistants to them. They were iron willed and in most cases, quite psychopathic. He had never expected one to crack and commit suicide so abruptly. Despite the unprecedented situation, they all seemed to be managing it. A distant rumble shuddered the office, a prompt reminder to him of the task at hand. “Keep packing! We leave in five minutes with whatever we've got!”

    The squad turned back to their work, all but one who turned his back on the files and stood ramrod straight.

    “Kay...” Dubrov immediately went on guard. “Kay, what is it? Don't you snap on me too!”

    “I can't move, Comrade Colonel!” The trooper replied, terror edging his voice. “I can't... nothing is moving! I can't move my body!”

    “Get a grip, it's a panic attack. You aren't frontline soldiers, I know this, but you must do what I...”

    “It's not that, Colonel!” Kay shouted, eyes wide with fear. “I...I...”

    Kay's arm moved without any prompting, again unholstering his sidearm and raising it to his chin. This time though, Dubrov acted, rushing forward and seizing the weapon. Kay brought up his other hand to the grip, the two men struggling against each other, the younger trooper slowly winning out as the muzzle inched closer to his chin.

    “Colonel!” Kay screamed at his superior officer, his voice earsplitting at this distance. “Stop it! Stop me! I'm not doing...”

    His words were interrupted by the passage of a large caliber bullet through his throat, the interrogator dropping to the ground in a heap of bent limbs.

    That was enough for the rest of the squad. The remaining four abandoned whatever they were doing and bolted for the exits without looking back, shoving chairs and desks out of their way with grinding screeches. Dubrov called after them, but they didn't care. This was something far outside their understanding or ability to resist. They wisely chose to be somewhere else.

    “Stop! Halt!” Dubrov yelled after the terrified squad, his own voice starting to crack as the situation spiraled out of his control. “Halt!”

    To his particular surprise, they actually did, all four skidding to a stop. His relief was short lived.

    “Squad! Form honor guard!” Corporal Elena barked sharply, the NCO's eyes showing a mix of confusion and abject terror. The three troopers lined up, Elena falling in beside them and saluting at nothing. Dubrov had no idea what was happening, no clue what these bizarre and deadly theatrics meant. He drew his laser pistol and gripped it tight, scanning for trouble, for some source of this madness. A moment later, he found it.

    From the side of the room emerged a half dozen black shadows. Formless and amorphous at first, they resolved into human shapes, each wearing baggy black clothing. The closest one unfastened a covering over his face and drew back the hood over his head, showing black eyes locked in an ice cold smirk.

    “Colonel Dubrov, Alfred Bester. Pleased to meet you.” He walked past the four saluting soldiers, suddenly halting. “Ah, of course, stand at ease.” He returned a theatrical salute and clicked his heels, the squad lowering their hands, bodies rigid and faces tight with panic.

    “Who are you!?” Dubrov roared in fury born of fear. “Did you do this?”

    “To answer your questions in order, I just told you who I am, and yes, we did this.” He gestured at the other still shrouded figures. “And we are still doing it. You and all your people are under our complete control. Don't believe me?” He stretched out his arms. “Take your best shot.”

    Dubrov leveled his pistol and pulled the trigger, except he didn't. He made the motions, sent the command, willed it to happen, but instead he could only watch dumbstruck as his hand holstered his pistol against every impulse and command his brain sent it.

    “I don't expect you to understand, and I don't care if you do.” Bester advanced. “I need you to answer a question. Where are the hostages?”

    “Hostages? I have no idea.”

    “Hmm.” Bester pursed his lips. “Byron, three.”

    Bester didn't even turn around, entrusting the task to his unit. This time, the three troopers still standing in line in perfect unison took their weapons, placed them to their heads, and fired, leaving just Dubrov and Corporal Elena, the woman screaming at the top of her lungs.

    “Silence,” Bester said softly, Elena's voice immediately dying, leaving her still trying to scream and shout, but creating no sound. “Colonel, we both know that isn't true. Where are the hostages? Oh, and if you lie to me again, the future will not be looking very bright for Elena here.”

    Dubrov's eyes flickered between the corporal and Bester, his mind racing, trying to find a way out. If he admitted what he knew, he'd be admitting he was a part of this, and if he did that, he didn't fancy his prospects.

    “I'm telling you I don't know!”

    “Colonel, you really haven't figured out who I am, have you?” Bester sighed. “Fine.”

    This time it was Corporal Elena who went through the motions, fighting vainly to resist, but utterly powerless. She pressed the gold gun barrel to her neck, eyes streaming tears as she looked pleadingly at her Colonel.

    “Last chance to do the right thing.” Bester gave one last offer.

    “I can't help you.” It was a lie, one he told to Bester and Elena simultaneously.

    “Pity.” Bester raised a hand and clicked his fingers, the noise lost in the final gunshot. “But not unexpected. I wanted to know what kind of man you were, if you would put yourself above the lives of your loyal soldiers. Now I know.”

    “If there was something I could do to...” Dubrov stuttered.

    “Of course you know where they are. I pulled it from your mind five minutes ago and sent it to my allies. They are probably already storming the cells,” Bester waved away dismissively. “My official role in this mission ended after that message was sent. What I'm doing now, this isn't on the record.”

    He approached the Colonel. Bester was considerably shorter and far less physically powerful, but he radiated absolute dominance in this situation. For all his cunning and ruthless brutality, Dubrov was utterly helpless.

    “What happens now, Colonel, is very personal.”

    “I... I don't understand? You pulled it from my mind?” Dubrov laughed nervously. “Well, whatever it is, you have what you want, yes?”

    “I have what my superiors wanted, but I want something more. Do you remember Nigel Morrison?” Bester tilted his head. “You do, I see it, you know who I mean. He was only a diplomat, but he turned fourteen of your best commandos into vegetables. You were right to fear him, and you are starting to understand. He was different, more than human, just as we are. Nigel was one of my people. You had him killed, and I am not a forgiving sort of person.”

    “I was just following orders.”

    “Yes, but it was your idea to mutilate his body. Use his severed head as a negotiating tool. You can't hide the truth, Colonel.” Bester grimaced. “If you had simply killed him, then it would have cost you your life, but it would have been clean. Now, after this little showcase,” he waved at the dead squad, “it won't be clean.”

    “We can negotiate, the documents here are vital, the secrets, blackmail material...”

    “I don't give a damn for your mundane posturing and games,” Bester cut him off. “Nothing in here means anything to us. If we want your secrets, we'll take them.”

    He took a step closer.

    “Have you ever wondered what boiling in oil feels like, Colonel? To be cooked alive? Well, I have good news and bad news.”

    “You can't, you don't have time to do that, you can't!”

    “You tortured a few people to death that way, didn't you? Well, justice is about to start rhyming. I am going to make your brain think your nerve endings are telling it you are being cooked in oil, and the best bit is, I'm also going to interrupt the part of your brain that shuts down in shock. You get to feel it until you die. Which will be what? About three days?”

    “The last one made it to five,” one of the shrouded men said.

    “You'll die of dehydration, because you will be too busy screaming to drink,” Bester informed helpfully. “Funny fact, when we started doing this, our first test subjects ended up swallowing their own tongues and choking to death, far too quick. So Colonel, I'm going to need you to stick out your tongue. As far as you can.”

    Dubrov battled with every ounce of will to resist, to keep his mouth shut. He failed.

    “Good.” Bester stared directly into Dubrov's eyes, seeing the terror of all of the Colonel's past victims and making sure his crimes were at the front of his mind in these last moments of lucidity. “Now, Colonel, bite.”



    “Fucking Hetzers.” Jaime backtracked hard as a streak of black and orange sailed past his canopy, an AC20 shell that took the top two floors off the building behind him, buffeting his Archer with the shockwave and clattering debris off his hull like rain.

    “I got him, flanking right.” Natasha sounded as gleeful as ever, the joy of piloting her mech through the carnage still ever so slightly unnerving, even to a veteran like Jaime. He could appreciate the thrill of battle, understand the pride and satisfaction in victory, but he had never really gone so far as enjoying it. Not like that anyway. He caught glimpses of the jet black Marauder between the shattered buildings, the machine moving with a speed and precision it had no right to, Natasha deftly lining up on the Capellan ambush party and blasting them from the far side of a hotel, obliterating its glass facade.

    “Good kill,” Jaime confirmed, the red dots on his screen blinking off as his sensors updated.

    “Good kill? That was an amazing kill! Did you see I shot them through a hotel?”

    “I saw.” Jaime broke a laugh despite himself. “I'm not reading anything else in this district.”

    “Move on?”

    “No, we're starting to get strung out.” Jaime looked at the bigger picture. “They might be trying to draw us further from the dropships. Hold here.”

    “Aff.” Natasha pulled back, for all her fighting spirit, she was still in complete control. She returned to her post beside the Archer, guns constantly tracking. “Muskat is dead, ejected into a bridge.”

    “Was he a newbie? I don't know the name.”

    “Yeah, six months in,” she confirmed. “Going to need more after today, we've lost seven so far.”

    The city was turning into a nightmare to fight through, the burning buildings laying black smoke over several districts, limiting their line of sight. The roads had been cracked and churned up by impacts, and the heavier mechs, coupled with the countless bricks and lumps of concrete, made traction extremely difficult. Just moving back and forth, Jaime had seen several mechs slip a little on the loose ground. It would be worse when the real fight began. On top of that, broken water mains and gas pipes sprayed water or flame from the streets at random places.

    The water at least had some utility beyond making the ground even harder to navigate. His Lance took turns to stand in the jet of water spouting from a broken fire hydrant, the icy liquid cooling off their heatsinks faster than the air alone.

    “Wolf Command, Agamemnon, are you receiving?”

    “Wolf here, go.” Jaime switched instantly back on task.

    “Movement in your sector, we're seeing a major attack forming up,” the radio voice from the warship relayed. “Updating your tactical displays.”

    Jaime quickly checked, a mass of new red dots approaching from the west.

    “Aggy, any chance of a little fire support?”

    “Negative, rules of engagement forbid strikes within the city limits.”

    “That's what I thought you were going to say.” He exhaled a long breath. “We'll hold them here.”

    “Command reports we almost have the hostages, won't be long now.”

    “No hurry,” Jaime quipped. “Appreciate the heads up, Wolf out.”

    He closed the channel and took a moment to center himself, ordering his mind and aligning his thoughts. This was what they were here for.

    “Alpha Regiment, consolidate your position and prepare for frontal attack. Hostile mechs on approach, approximately three regiments. Get into overlapping positions and stay mobile. They'll be expecting a static defense, don't get caught flat footed.”

    His battalion and company commanders sent confirmation. No words were needed, just taps on their comms gear. The entire unit altered their posture, loosening up and finding suitable ground to engage from. He was outnumbered, but in urban terrain, that wasn't as bad as it sounded. If his units stayed mobile, if his line flexed and bent instead of trying to remain solid and brittle, if he gave ground and absorbed the momentum of the attack... they could do this.

    “Three Regiments.” Natasha tapped into the images sent down from the destroyers overhead. “There's our Red Lancers, Prefecture Guards... Capellan Reserves in there too?”

    “Looks like.” Jaime checked his missile status, flicking the master arm switch, and tapping the regimental channel. “All long range units, standby LRM salvo. Give them half now, keep half to cover the withdrawal.”

    “No Imarra units though, I was hoping.” She sighed. “I guess they're too far away. Think some will get here in time?”

    “Doubt it, if they try to march down here, Sheridan will atomize them as soon as they reach open ground.” Which Jaime was very happy about. “You'll have to make do with the Liao household guards.”

    “Maybe next time.”

    He had to smile at the pure confidence encased in that black Marauder.

    “They're not coming in all at once, I'd guess they are converging as multiple small units,” she observed. “It won't be a disciplined attack, but I'll bet they give it everything.”

    The red and orange sky was filled with a call of trumpets mingling with the rumble of machines, bugles broadcast from the incoming mechs sounding the charge. Like many old regiments, the elites of House Liao held many traditions and practices from the distant past, the piercing call of Chinese bugles among them.

    “If I wasn't so well armed, that might be a little unnerving.” Natasha ran the servos and myomers to check for faults, the Marauder looking like a dog shaking itself out. “Where do we go?”

    “Anywhere the enemy breaks through.” Jaime tapped a few controls, the armored covers shielding his missiles popping open at the command. He stepped out from cover and into the rubble strewn avenues of the Forbidden city, the approaching Capellan mechs creating clouds of dust as they barreled through buildings in their path. “Still glad you came along?”

    “This is where I belong.” Natasha spoke with simple truth. “Come on, let's take this up a notch.”

    “Aff.” Jaime found he'd forgotten his nerves, the infectious confidence of his friend making him believe they might actually live through this. “Missile units, barrage pattern, open fire.”

    The Archer's missiles ripple fired, tiny pulse rocket engines throwing them clear of the machine before the main thruster ignited with a tearing sound, pouring white smoke behind it. It was a little risky to salvo off half the arsenal at once, but today was a day for risk taking, the entire line shrouded as dozens of LRMs from an assortment of mechs filled the sky. Some came from Archers, some from the small number of Catapults and Trebuchets, the rest from whatever forward units had a few slapped on. It was a good barrage and, as expected of the Dragoons, fell exactly on target, but just as much of the earlier Capellan strike had been blunted by buildings, so too were the Dragoons' missiles.

    The impacts were impressive, mushrooms of flame and black smoke shattering the target area, but the actual damage was limited, the brunt of the force absorbed by apartment blocks that crumbled into concrete dust. A few Capellan mechs fell, but most wisely took cover and let the missiles fall before advancing. That was good enough for the Dragoons, it gave them a few precious moments where the Capellan advance stopped.

    “Alpha Regiment, move forward and engage! All units engage!”

    While the strike hadn't done much damage, it did sow confusion. As the leading wave stopped or slowed down, the follow up units ran into them, creating knots and clusters of mechs. It wouldn't take long for the elite Capellans to shake themselves up and go back on the attack. That small window of opportunity was Wolf's best chance to maul the enemy and buy a little more time.

    As one, the regiment attacked, the loose formation breaking from cover and closing the range as quickly as possible. The urban terrain had separated them into smaller groups, a lance or two in each cluster, with the by-now burning and ruined remnants of the residential district splitting the force and interfering with their lines of fire. It wasn't ideal, but was affecting the Capellans just the same, turning this from a regimental battle into instead a cluster of small unit actions. Jaime welcomed that, he was supremely confident that in these kinds of fights where skill counted for everything, his Dragoons would triumph.

    The Dragoons seized positions close to the Capellans, within optimal firing range but outside point blank. They wanted a close range gunnery duel, not a melee where Capellan numbers would tip the scales. Instead, they picked their spots, levelled their weapons, and delivered every joule of firepower they could muster into the still reorganising hostiles. It was a ferocious fusillade, the sudden aggression surprising the Capellans, who had expected to meet dug in enemies, not an assault. Several units staggered and fell, the sheer weight of gunfire breaking them down and overwhelming their armour. The first casualties dropped smoking to the ground or collapsed into shot up buildings. It was a deadly opening salvo delivered with precision and fury. Most opponents would have collapsed then and there.

    Not today. Not here. Not these warriors. Capellans were not renowned for their bravery, their reputation was more for cunning and underhanded deeds, but these were the defenders of the Chancellor, the custodians of House Liao itself giving battle in the Forbidden City on Sian. They were the elite, better than most and they fought under the eyes of the Daughter of Liao. They did not break, did not panic as they received the volley. They stepped over the dead and disabled and fired back with even greater fury, giving the Dragoons back their salvo with interest.

    “Weight the flanks, they will try to get around behind us,” Jaime warned, keeping a very close eye on his tactical display. Smoke had rendered visual scans useless and the Agamemnon was now beaming down infrared pictures, but even they were starting to flicker as more fires and explosions erupted across the line. “Baker, wheel left a few degrees, there's a heavy company moving up.”

    “Heavy Lance coming in, dead ahead,” Natasha called a warning. “I got it, Vordel, on my six, fire support.”

    Jaime was too busy juggling formations to get involved at this point, much as he may have wanted to. Instead, that privilege fell to Captain Kerensky and Junior Lieutenant Hans Vordel's Victor, a pair quite suited to the task. Both advanced with speed toward the front, Natasha sweeping around a cluster of Dragoons blasting a steady chain of gunfire into some Capellan light mechs that had picked the wrong part of the line to attack. More dangerous though was the reinforced Lance trying to break through a public library and open up a new line of attack. That was Natasha’s target.

    “Reading two Orions, two Centurions,” Vordel updated. “Do we need back up?”

    Natasha answered with a laugh. “Just put some fire on those Centurions. No need to get close, I'll go tease them.”

    They were already within two hundred metres. Vordel's idea of close obviously was not the same as Kerensky's. Still, he wasn't going to argue and pounded forward the last few strides down a torn up intersection and turned right to get a clean shot between the buildings at the incoming hostiles. The Capellans had successfully stomped through the library, pulverising countless works of indoctrination, and were forming up to flank the command Lance when they met a salvo from Vordel's Victor. His aim was true, a massive AC20 shell whistling across the short distance, hitting a Centurion at less than seventy metres, peeling apart its LRM launcher and triggering a magazine explosion. The pilot automatically ejected as the remnants of the mech fell sideways, serving to focus all attention on Vordel.

    He immediately backtracked, loosing off a pair of SRMs that grazed an Orion, forcing it to duck as it opened fire, sending a brace of AC10 shots ploughing into the buildings beside him in showers of glass and bits of furniture. He returned fire from his medium lasers, but even a Dragoon wasn't going to land a hit on an evading target while sliding into cover himself. He managed to ignite a few piles of surviving books, so not a totally wasted shot, then soaked up a direct hit from another AC10 that rattled his teeth before he made it back to the intersection.

    Vordel anchored himself and prepared to make his stand. He had tall buildings on both sides and was using one for cover. It wouldn't survive long, but it would absorb at least some hits while he fired back. Two Orions and a Centurion were steep odds, but a Victor was a beast of a mech in urban combat, and he just needed to keep them busy until Natasha did something stupidly heroic.

    The Capellans were smart. The two Orions began blasting the building Vordel was behind, while the Centurion acted as security, guarding the flanks and defending the Orions as they carefully moved up. The Victor leaned out of cover to fire another shot from its monstrous cannon, a pair of well placed hits throwing off his aim at the last moment, causing the valuable shell to hit the ground and crater the road pointlessly. He cursed and pulled back, the two Orions advancing in unison behind staggered laser fire, making sure he didn't have any windows of opportunity. They were definitely better than the average Capellan.

    He was contemplating giving ground and finding a better spot when a black shape skidded with a screech of metal on concrete into the hollowed out library in a shower of burning books that fluttered like embers around it. The black machine hadn't even finished sliding before it opened fire, a pair of PPC blasts striking the Orions from behind, while the top mounted AC10 barked at the Centurion. Natasha had finished her flanking move, dodging the battle, and was now in position to bracket the Capellan lance. A great idea in most situations, but with only two mechs, was extremely risky. The Capellans were skilled enough to simply concentrate on one target at a time and defeat them in detail. The forward Orion halted and shifted position to keep Vordel under fire, while the second teamed up with the Centurion to engage Natasha's Marauder.

    Ordinarily, this was a good tactic and the Capellans were flexible enough to make it work. Vordel was grudgingly impressed by how swiftly they changed priorities and adopted the new orders, but this was not an ordinary battle. This was a battle against Natasha Kerensky.

    The Marauder moved with the speed and fluidity of a machine a quarter of its size, Natasha pushing the myomers almost to their limits. She lunged forward toward the Centurion, pounding forward and depressing the knees of the machine to lower her profile and throw off the aim of her opponent. The Centurion also moved, dodging to the left as she lined up on it like a shark fixating on its prey, the sleek hull of the Marauder a terrifying sight no matter the pilot. He managed a hit with his lasers that scored the upper armour in a flash of steam, but was far too close to evade retaliation.

    Echoing Vordel's earlier tactic, she fired on the chest mounted LRM launcher, putting two PPC spears clean through the rack, peeling away its protection and following up with an AC10 into the now exposed magazine. Most pilots, even at this sort of range, would have been lucky to hit such a small target with one weapon. Natasha nailed it with all three, precisely timed for maximum effect. The Centurion detonated and wobbled but remained upright, a good quarter of its mass redistributed across the high rent district, with an arm hooking itself on the sixth floor of a luxury complex.

    She was at the top of her game, moving on a combination of killer instinct and perfectly honed training. She knew where she had to be, had her position plotted several steps ahead, knew her firing arcs, her expected enemy responses, the optimal placement for gunfire, for evasion. She was already figuring out which part of the line to hit next. She just needed to mop up here.

    That was when things got a little tricky. The lead Orion was piloted by an actual veteran mechwarrior, someone who deserved to be in that cockpit. Wolf's Dragoons were famous, and Natasha Kerensky in particular was well known as an Ace of Aces, piloting a signature Black Marauder. In those seconds, he understood who he was up against, hastily re-evaluated his position, and began ripple firing every weapon in his arsenal, heat build up be damned.

    That sudden barrage caused Natasha to deviate from her plan, the sudden wall of LRMs something of a surprise. The range was, of course, far too short for the weapons to be a serious problem. They were inside their minimum arming range, so anything that did actually strike her just spiralled away or shattered in a brief flash of igniting fuel. It did, however, obscure her vision and rob her of a clean gun kill. Instead, she would have to get closer, past the exhaust smoke. It was risky, but she did not hesitate, grin plastering her face, digging the heel of the mech into the road surface with a crunch and making the best use she could of the relatively close confines to charge.

    The Orion was expecting something like this. Natasha's reputation for aggression was not much of a secret, but expecting a threat and beating that threat were two very different things. He had rippled off his missiles partially to create a sixty thousand C-Bill smokescreen, but mostly to empty his magazines. He'd seen two of his brethren killed by precise magazine hits, that was a clear pattern of attack, and he had no doubt Natasha would try the same on him. It had filled up his heatsinks and the temperature in the cockpit had spiked to jungle conditions, but it didn't matter. If he made even one error, he wouldn't live long enough to cook.

    He called in his last Lance member, the second Orion currently engaging Vondrel's Victor. Turning their backs on such a dangerous machine was a near suicidal risk, but neglecting to put all their guns on the Black Marauder was deemed worse. It was rapidly apparent this was turning into a no win scenario, but if they could at least take down Kerensky, it would be worth it. His brother also salvoed every remaining LRM, granting him the same obscuring smoke for a few moments from the Victor. Those few moments were probably twice as long as they expected the fight to last.

    Natasha charged ahead, firing lasers blind into the smoke. It was pure guesswork, but her guesses were better than most warrior's calculations. The left hand laser hit the lead Orion, the beam causing little damage to the heavy armour, but providing a sudden burst of heat and light that gave the Marauder something to shoot at. She followed up with an AC10 round that cracked into the still obscured Orion, pinging pieces of broken armour from its hull, then ducked her warmachine into a crouch to avoid the inevitable return fire. The Marauder complained, its metal groaning but holding together as she abused the controls, massive grin still firmly affixed to her face. Gunfire from both Orions went overhead, missing by mere inches, and smashed into buildings, showering her with concrete. The retaliation was surprisingly good, if not for her sudden evasion, they would have caught her in a well placed crossfire. That gained her respect - bringing these two down would be a privilege.

    She made a final lunge out of the smoke, bringing her level with the lead Orion, the second one about fifty metres further back and reloading. She put all her attention on the leader, the Capellan warrior already swinging an arm at the Marauder, anticipating exactly her tactics. She decided to absorb the hit, her forward momentum and the shape of the Marauder ensuring it was little more than a glancing blow that slid down the hull, in order to get in close behind the Orion.

    This small fight was, in that second, over. They both realised it at the same time. Natasha had one arm pointed at the back of the mech's knees, the other close to the reactor, and her top mounted gun locked on the Orion's cockpit. She fired the arm guns together, the lasers cutting through the weak points while she held back the PPCs. It was enough to trigger an emergency shutdown and caused the mech to lose balance. She held fire with the AC10 for a long moment, locking eyes with the Capellan pilot, a grey bearded warrior just a few metres away. She gave him that moment to punch the ejection button, to save himself, an act of pure respect to a fellow warrior. He made no move to do so. Instead he chose his fate, gave Natasha a quick salute, and accepted his final defeat.

    Natasha granted his unspoken request. Among the Clans, such an end was glorious, a honourable death in battle with a worthy foe, especially for a warrior nearing the end of his career. She admired his resolve and skill, this unnamed mechwarrior, and when she noted the kill in her logbook, she'd drink to his courage.

    That left one more target. The final Orion had finished reloading and was bracing to fire. This one wasn't as experienced or skilled, but at least had the nerve to stay still and provide a steady platform for his AC10. Again, that earned a little respect. Standing fast after watching your whole Lance torn down in less than thirty seconds was no small achievement. She pushed the motors again, threw the Marauder into a sharp right swerve to try and bounce the cannon shot, but in the end didn't need to. The Orion was enveloped in an explosion from behind, Vondrel putting an AC20 into its already weakened back armour and hollowing out the torso.

    “Good shot.” Natasha observed this pilot did eject, in another five or six years he might make a real opponent. “Anyone else?”

    “Not here, command needs us to help Charlie Battalion.”

    “With me then. You did good keeping up,” Natasha allowed. “These guys are as good as they pretend to be, watch your back.”

    “Aff Captain.”

    “Kill them quick, get in close and destroy them,” she ordered. “This is a fight for the history books, keep alive to read how awesome I am.”



    From a distance, the battle was a lot like the simulations she had run, the view from the air conditioned cockpit detached from the visceral reality of the frontlines. Romano watched the smoke rising and noted the flash of weapons fire and billowing explosions. She could cross reference with her tactical displays and work out which unit was engaging where, how far they were advancing, how much damage they were doing. She could also watch the status displays of the mechs in battle, seeing the icons go from green to yellow to red and finally to black. Sometimes, it took minutes for a unit to gradually wear down, sometimes it was instant. She watched mech after mech turn black on the screen, sometimes matching it with a distant explosion, rarely with a fluttering parachute.

    It was, from her position, no different from a simulation, but this time there was no reset button. Her icons didn't all turn green again at the end of the fight, ready for a repeat attempt, the city did not restore itself, the comrades she had met did not take their seats at her table to praise or chide her. While she had no responsibility in this fight, she still felt it, she carried the weight of her name and the knowledge that one day she would be the one directing fights like this. She would send those green icons forward and when they winked out, it would be her fault. This was just a small hint at what was to come, and the way things were going, future battles for the Confederation might end up very brutal indeed.

    “Mistress Liao.” She snapped back to the present as Albemarle's voice crackled in her headset. “Are you able to bring up the next wave? They need to be organised for deployment.”

    “Yes, I can do that,” Romano affirmed eagerly. “Leave it to me.”

    Glad to have a task to do, she backed up her Highlander and walked away from the command lance, the leadership of the Red Lancers keeping her safe, but also recognising the value in letting Romano see them at work. They were professionals, confident in victory, but not arrogant. They knew they were going to win, not because they were the celebrated elite of Liao, but because they had the numbers, the training, and the motivation. Albemarle was throwing units into a frontal attack, but she wasn't been wasteful with lives. Her units were well supported and arrayed to apply pressure across Jaime Wolf's entire line. She had him pinned down, and the next phase was to deploy the reserves and initiate a break through.

    This was where Romano played her small part, marshalling the break through force and bringing them up to their jump off points. It was straight forward enough but with three Regiments all mixed in together and with reinforcements arriving in small groups, rather than organized companies, she had to do a little juggling.

    “Red Company, Green Company, assembly here.” She used her tools to try and sort the mass of inbound machines. “Tank units hold back, you need to deploy after the mechs go in. Don't get in their way.”

    “This is White Company reporting in,” an officer checked in adding some more to her workload. “I'm missing a Lance.”

    “Missing? Were they attacked?”

    “Just lost, Ma'am.”

    “How is that even... just march to the sound of the guns!” She grew frustrated. “Take what you have to Blossom avenue and wait for orders.”

    “Yes Ma'am.”

    “Red Company, you are slow! Our warriors are dying while you wander in circles! Blossom Avenue! Immediately!”

    “I'm down a Lance too, Ma'am, and my scout group is somewhere with Blue Company.”

    “Take what you can and assemble with the others.”

    Romano was starting to understand the chaos and confusion of warfare. Without the time to prepare and properly deploy units, she was finding it difficult to arrange the attack group. If she waited too long and tried to get the different units organised, the battle would be over with unacceptable losses. If she just threw them in piecemeal, their impact would be lessened. She needed to ask someone, to seek advice, but her senior officers were either handling the frontlines or missing. This was on her shoulders to get right.

    “All units, I need you to detach your assault mechs.” She had a sudden idea. “All companies continue to mass at Blossom Avenue, but I need all Assault Mechs to join me, form on my position immediately.”

    She couldn't mass numbers, not quickly enough, but maybe she could mass some quality instead. She noted with satisfaction eleven mechs broke off from their parent formations and moved towards her, the biggest and toughest machines from the reserve formations. It wasn't much, but it might be good enough.

    “Assault mechs, you will operate together in a temporary formation. Advance to Major Albemarle and act as the spearhead. She'll know how to deploy you. The rest of your unit will follow you once you split the enemy line. Go.”

    They signaled their understanding and moved off, Romano hoping the Major would understand what she was doing. Romano had studied with the Warrior Houses and so understood about concentration of force. The Assault Mechs weren't a team, but in this situation it didn't matter. There was no need for clever teamwork, fluid formations, or ingenious tactics. All they had to do was charge ahead together and open a way for the rest to exploit by applying extraordinary amounts of violence.

    What she had to do now was make sure that once they did break the Dragoons' line, there would be enough reserves to push through and finish the job.

    “Green Company! On the double or the next guns you see will be those of your firing squad!”



    “We're close.” Candace peered around a corner while she waited for her bodyguards to scout ahead for danger. “The command bunker is in the next building.”

    “This is taking too long.” Jiang checked his watch for the hundredth time, acutely aware that every second this battle continued was costing lives.

    “It would have been faster if your army wasn't ripping the palace apart.” She sneered slightly. “Thankfully, most of them seem to be withdrawing. Presumably they have what they came for.”

    “Not yet, not until we get into that bunker.”

    From up, ahead a Commando appeared and waved them over, the man wearing the blue strip of cloth that identified him as an ally.

    “Mistress, the way is clear, we can cross the courtyard. Once we reach the building, we will be faced by soldiers loyal to your father.”

    “I will handle that,” Candace promised firmly. “Come on Jiang, time to get this done.”

    They darted out across the courtyard, Jiang only now seeing the signs of combat, smelling the acrid smoke in the air. The walls around were pitted and scorched by weapons fire, while the yard itself was scattered with piles of bodies. Some were wearing Liao uniforms, but there was at least a platoon of Earth Force Rangers there too.

    “Wait.” Jiang made a detour for the fallen soldiers, causing the team to halt.

    “Wait? We don't have time for this!” Candace snarled at his back. “My city is burning! We end this now with or without you!”

    He knelt beside one of the fallen Earth Force soldiers. While the loss of a fellow soldier of Earth was painful, it was not sentimentality that drew him over. He detached the man's tactical commlink, a simple earpiece and microphone that reached across his cheek on a stalk. He brought it to his own ear and tapped it twice to activate it.

    “Li, Jiang, EIA, authorise Rho nine, activate secure link,” he spoke into the device, a chime confirming his voice and DNA was recognised. “Ranger Command, this is Agent Li, EIA, respond on this channel.”

    “Ah, I see.” Candace hovered behind him. “Secure communications?”

    “Earth Force is jamming short range frequencies, my normal comms won't work. I need one of these.” He quickly searched through the trooper's gear, taking his rifle and energy caps. “Ranger Command, I say again, this is...”

    “We heard you the first time, glad you're still in one piece, Jiang.”

    “That you Groves?” He recognised the voice of his companion from the Tortuga mission, Ben Groves of Naval Intelligence. “What's happening?”

    “We have the surviving hostages, but we're still looking for the Ambassador.”

    “I think I have him, can you track this signal?”

    “Already got it, need back up?”

    “No,” Candace answered.

    “Yes.” Jiang ignored her. “No need for the whole army.”

    “I'll be there with my squad, five or six minutes.”

    “We're not waiting.” Candace knelt down beside one of the other bodies for a second in curiosity, then stood. “Come on, chat later.”

    She was right. Jiang fell in beside her again, her entourage picking up several of her loyal guardians as it approached the building housing the entrance to the bunker. It was respectably fortified. The Earth Force Rangers likely had no idea what it was and had been mauled by the strong defences and elite Death Commandos manning them.

    “I'll talk.” Candace accelerated her pace to take the lead, her escorts fanning out. Jiang stayed close to Candace, but hung back enough to let her do her job. One of the Death Commandos stepped out from cover and greeted her.

    “Lady Candace, you were ordered to a different bunker.”

    “I am here to see my father. You may escort me.”

    “I cannot, Madam. To have both ruler and heir in a single place is too dangerous. You must leave.”

    He was maintaining formality, but had noticed her men setting up a kill box, his own commandos carefully taking up a defensive posture themselves. Both knew what was on the cards, but neither was quite ready to declare it.

    “It seems you had some action.” She peered back at the courtyard filled with bodies. “You are down to four men, you should let my guards take over.”

    “We are still strong enough to hold this gate against any attackers,” the Commando replied bluntly. “Any attackers at all.”

    “You are a brave man, and obviously a skilled one. I think given the losses we have taken, there will be opportunities for men like you.” Candace smiled, it was her best expression, a mix of innocence and promise. “You could be a Colonel tomorrow. The Confederation has need of heroes like you. All you have to do is live.”

    He stood a little straighter.

    “You should leave, Lady Candace, before something unfortunate happens.”

    “I regret we are past that point.”

    The gunfire didn't come from her guards, nor from the commandos. It cracked out from the far side of the courtyard, from snipers Candace's captain had set up in the windows of the main palace before they even began the confrontation. The Death Commandos fell as one, none even raising their weapons.

    “A waste.” She sighed. “But thank your commanders for me, Jiang. Without your Rangers whittling down their numbers, my guards would have had quite a fight on their hands.”

    “I don't think it was intentional.”

    “Never the less, their sacrifice was not in vain.” She stepped over the body of the commando and passed through the gateway. “Come along, the door needs Liao DNA to unlock it.”

    “You're really going to do this then?” Jiang trotted up beside her. “This is a coup?”

    “I wouldn't be a true Liao if I didn't otherthrow someone to get ahead.” She smiled, eyes burning fiercely. “My path is set. Once I am Chancellor, I will call off my forces if you do the same.”

    “Once we have Sheridan, we're gone.”

    “Good enough.” They headed down the ramp to the doors of the bunker, the immense armoured portals unbreachable by any weapon short of an orbital strike. “Give me a moment to get this all unlocked and we can bring this unfortunate series of events to an end.”



    “Keep them here!” Jaime commanded, breathless and dehydrated from the intense combat, the interior of his mech heavy with the smell of cooked dust and burnt plastic. “Give some ground if you have to, but keep this line! I don't care if you bend, but we'll be damned if the Dragoons break!”

    The Capellans were fully committed now, with three full Regiments pushing into the Dragoons. Mechs, tanks, gunships, artillery, nothing was held back. He could see suicidally brave infantry squads dodging around the mechs and piles of rubble to take potshots at his forces, light vehicles shrieking past, chugging gunfire, all of them just footnotes to the vicious clash of mechs. A gunship cartwheeled overhead, spewing flames and spinning wildly. Shattered tanks and fallen mechs created fresh obstacles while the surviving warriors blasted each other from almost point blank distances. The only reason the Dragoons hadn't been overwhelmed already was the urban terrain preventing the Capellans from concentrating their full force in one place.

    It wasn't great, and to make matters worse, an entire fresh regiment was flanking the whole position and going after the landing ships, giving Beta Regiment something to keep them busy. This was the tipping point, the time when it was necessary to pull back and begin evacuating. That was, of course far, easier said than done.

    “I'm down to three rounds,” Natasha informed with absolute calm in the midst of hell. “And my heat sinks are at eighty percent.”

    “Can you handle a few more minutes?”

    “It's me,” she chimed back, her Marauder taking position beside Jaime's Archer, the Black Machine dented and scarred by the combat, its heat dissipation systems shimmering the air behind the machine. “I could do to sweat off a little weight anyway. Where are we, you know, big picture?”

    “Time to start heading back,” Jaime confirmed his decision. “We're going to fall back by lance, phased withdrawal.”

    “Cappies ain't going to let us do that.” She pointed out the obvious. “They'll be on us all the way back. We've got to break them.”

    “The dropships can cover the last phase of the retreat.”

    “You sure about that?” Natasha was less convinced. “We need these guys broken and running to give us the space to get out. Get our new buddy Sheridan to glass them from orbit.”

    “He can't drop fire inside the city. That's against his rules of engagement.”

    “So is losing.” She made a fair point. “If you call it down and tell him it's the only way to get us out of this, he'll do it.”

    “They'll Court Martial him.”

    “He'd still do it, Sheridan's one of us.”

    She was probably right, but Jaime wasn't quite finished yet. His response, however, was cut off by an urgent signal.

    “Alpha Actual, Baker Scout Lance, new enemies inbound. At least two, possibly three Assault Lances!”

    “Scout lance, confirm that was Assault Lances?”

    “Confirmed! Atlas, Victor, Awesome class, massed and heading for the point Baker and Able battalions overlap.”

    “Report received, keep your distance and engage targets of opportunity.” Jaime switched frequency. “Command groups form on me, standby for heavy contact.”

    “Still say we glass them.” Natasha rotated the Marauder and dropped in beside Jaime's Archer. “This is going to suck.”

    She was not wrong, but Jaime wasn't going to put his new allies in such a difficult position. Partially it was because they'd built a good personal rapport with John Sheridan, a man who seemed to be on an upward trajectory in the Earth Alliance Fleet, and that was a valuable asset to cultivate. But there was also the element that if they asked for help, it showed they were in over their heads, and while that might end up being true Jaime, didn't want to show it in front of Earth Force. The EA had shown its strength in getting them here, now the Dragoons had to show they were just as dominant in their niche.

    He linked up with the Command Lances from Able and Baker Battalions, a motley assortment of machines built around medium and heavy mechs with outstanding warriors. Putting them on the frontline was a risk. It meant they had to leave operational decisions to each Company commander in turn, but Jaime had faith his subordinates had the training and courage to hold their own.

    “Assault units coming in near the stadium car park, eight hundred metres west,” the scout team reported. “ETA less than a minute.”

    “We'll be there,” Jaime confirmed. “Firing positions, let's put a kill box around that stadium.”

    “Taking the right flank,” Major Chan of Baker Battalion confirmed. “I can give you about four minutes before the heat sinks fill.”

    “I've got the left,” Major Yukinov of Able echoed. “We've also got about four minutes before we need to disengage and cool off.”

    “That won't be a problem,” Natasha cut in. “I expect we'll all be dead in two.”

    There were a few grim chuckles. As dead pan as her delivery had been, they were wizened enough to know she might well be right.

    “Once in position fire at will, you know your jobs.” Jaime put his unit right in the path of the enemy advance. “If this goes bad, drop smoke and rally on Beta Regiment and the Davions.”

    They took position among the ruined buildings, the destruction serving to level much of the battlefield by now. When they had started, the apartments and office blocks had provided a fair amount of cover, but by now the district was little more than skeletal facades and piles of concrete rubble. It had changed the nature of the fight from a mech sized game of hide and seek to a far more treacherous battle where the rubble hindered mobility, but left lines of fire open.

    The Capellans again showed some professionalism as they arrived into position, coming up on the far side of the shot up stadium, carefully checking their surroundings. There was the obvious temptation just to come barrelling across the carpark and lay into the Dragoons, simply because they were manning Assault mechs, but whoever was in charge was marshalling their forces and making sure they maintained mutual support.

    “Got a lock, opening fire.” Jaime started proceedings, lobbing some missiles across the few hundred metres, a few other long range units joining in. The Capellans instantly responded, the front line units scattering and immediately returning fire with respectable accuracy. The Dragoons gave some back, long ranged PPC shots whizzing back and forth across the sky, but with little effect.

    “They're deploying against us,” Natasha recognised, sending off some staggered fire from her PPCs to keep her heat levels steady.

    “Which means they aren't going for their primary target.” Jaime shuffled around some piles of bricks and burning cars, taking a little time to use the large robotic hands of his Archer to pile up some of the rubble into a very makeshift rampart.

    “Unless we are the Primary target. All four of the Regiment's senior staff in one place,” She noted pointedly. “Hell of a gamble, Colonel.”

    He didn't have time to ruminate, the Capellans began to advance, wasting no time and maintaining the pressure on Jaime's ad hoc company. The Assault force divided, five Awesome and Banshee mechs formed a loose firing line and laid down some intense suppressive fire while the rest of the group began to charge. From somewhere behind, in an effective bit of coordination, a platoon of mobile mortars threw some smoke rounds overhead to cover the attack, robbing the Dragoons of a clear shot across the carpark.

    Jaime's unit held its fire. Earlier in the battle, they might have blindly sprayed gunfire into the smoke, but by now, they had to make each shot count. They had been so heavily engaged with no respite. Their heat systems were almost maxed with no opportunity to bleed off. It was going to be rough.

    Nobody in the group was a raw recruit. Most of the command elements were hardened warriors, veterans of the Clans and their brutal rites and traditions. They had seen countless duels and battles, faced death several times, they were all but unshakeable. Even with all that, the moment nine Atlases came charging through the smoke, in unison, at point blank range might just have been the most terrifying moment of Jaime Wolf's life.

    The Dragoons opened up with everything they had and it didn't even slow down the juggernaut, the Atlas group soaking up the assorted weapons, shrouding themselves in flame and steam. They smashed through any obstacle in their way, shouldering through the torn out remnants of office towers and pulverising the concrete beneath their feet to dust. Upon seeing their enemies they cheered, voices amplified and projected by speaker systems in their mechs, a deafening 'Ura' released from the mighty skull faces as they set themselves loose upon those who had desecrated their home.

    Jaime backed off fast, a pair of mechs smashing through his simple rubble wall like it was made of foam pellets. He gave them a salvo of laser fire, his weapons about as useful as a garden hose against the solid armour of the closest Altas, which retaliated with an AC20. The shot barely missed, the ripple of air from its passing potent enough to rattle the blue Archer. Jaime sidestepped, metal gripped feet skidding on the loose ground as he drew on all his skill to stay upright. He fought to keep the closest Atlas between him and the second one, making sure he at least only had to deal with attacks from a single overwhelmingly dangerous warmachine and not two.

    His enemy dumped a salvo of laser fire and an SRM into Jaime, the Archer taking the hits but not appreciating it, the armour cracking and buckling. He returned fire but was obviously not going to beat an Atlas in a gunnery duel. He bit his lip and charged, half running and half leaping into brawling range, which the Atlas warmly welcomed.

    Both the Atlas and Archer were well suited to a brawling match, both carrying a pair of mechanical fists capable of smashing and tearing lesser opponents to shreds. The Atlas had the advantage of size and mass, the Archer had the advantage of Jaime Wolf. He rotated the torso of his Archer to evade the initial strike from the Capellan Atlas, the massive jab clipping off his shoulder, denting the now empty LRM racks. In return, he delivered a potent uppercut, the strike catching the Atlas' mechanical head in a sharp impact that knocked off a few plates and likely disorientated the pilot. This was his chance to do real damage. He was so focused he almost missed a Capellan Victor running straight at him from his right side.

    It took all his skill to disengage and get some distance, abandoning his attack on the stunned Capellan to avoid a point blank barrage from the Victor. He barely survived, but by pulling back, he had now opened himself to attack from the second Atlas, which he had been trying to mask himself from. He was staring down three assault mechs at point blank range. It was absolutely not an optimal situation.

    That was when his backup arrived, Lieutenant Vordel smashing into the second Atlas with a shoulder tackle that would have made any member of Clan Ghost Bear shed a single tear of joy. He bodied the machine, firing his last AC20 shot into its chest with enough force to knock out the Capellan's own autocannon and turn it into a fair fight.

    On the other side was Natasha Kerensky, her Marauder's left arm a tangle of metal she now used as a club to unbalance the enemy Victor while delivering her last three rounds from the AC10 into its cockpit. The angle was too shallow to beat the armour, but it did at least send the pilot scurrying backwards, skidding on the debris and buying a little time.

    “Call in the last line, Boss! They're our last resort, this is the last resort!” Natasha barked as she threw the beat up Marauder into a melee struggle with the Victor, something only she would commit to and expect to actually win. She was also right. Jaime had a few seconds until his target, that first Atlas recovered. He had to play his last card.

    “Davion Lead, Wolf here. If you're done covering the Rangers, we could use you over here.” Which was Jaime's best effort at understatement. The Dragoons were on the edge of breaking, he was in the fight of his life, the entire line was collapsing, but he was damned if he was going to actually sound desperate for help.

    “Colonel Wolf, I've been monitoring the situation, my people are almost in position already,” Hanse Davion replied, almost at once, with the slightest hint of glee at anticipating this moment. “Standby Dragoons, incoming on your left flank.”



    Hanse didn't contradict Jaime. They could both see the situation was dire and both were well aware the Prince was now the only thing that could save the day, but it would have been dishonorable to crow about it. Instead, Hanse simply took his post on the right of his unit and watched as the last mechs took up formation.

    “Third Guards, at the ready!” He started the ball rolling. “Staggered line formation, even numbers thirty metres forward! At the double!”

    Hanse had brought his Guards mechs around the main fighting and set them up in a single line, virtually shoulder to shoulder, perpendicular to the Capellan attack. They had seen him of course, but his forces had easily swept away the screen of light mechs and tanks trying to stop the Guards. Now he was in place and about to demonstrate what the Third was best at.

    “Front Rank, alpha strike, suppression pattern. Ten second rapid fire, on my command!” Hanse rattled off the instructions, the forward half of the formation levelling their assorted guns at the mass of battling Capellans. Some were moving to switch targets, but disengaging from such an intense engagement was not a quick process. “Commence firing!”

    The front line delivered a vicious volley of gunfire, a mix of lasers, PPCs, and cannons ripping into the Capellan flank. A lot of the initial shots were wasted on the last remnants of the various structures still scattered across the city, but they at least cleared the way for the next salvoes.

    “Second Rank, advance sixty metres! Double time!” Hanse ordered sharply, devoting his efforts now to keeping the attack moving. This was all about timing now, balancing the weight of fire with the build up of heat among his units. His counter showed ten seconds had elapsed, the initial units ceasing fire just as the second group advanced between them to form a new front line.

    “Front Rank, alpha strike, suppressive pattern! Make ready! Ten seconds rapid, commence fire!”

    The fresh units now took up the attack, shooting across at the enemy. At this point, aiming was a formality, there was so much smoke from fires and screens that much of their barrage was going to miss. Hanse was hoping sheer weight and concentration of fire would inflict losses and sow confusion among the Capellans before the range closed and things became more bloody.

    “Second rank, sixty metres, advance!”

    Ten seconds wasn't enough to really allow the heat sinks of his units to cool off, but it at least gave them a few percent and that was worth it. If he had simply marched them forward under withering fire, his Guards would have arrived into killing range with heatsinks filled. If he had charged headlong into battle before shooting, the Capellans wouldn't have a chance to panic and break off from the Dragoons.

    His lead units ceased fire and were replaced by the original frontline. It was a steady advance by fire drill pulled from ancient history, an example of the perfect discipline and clockwork drill the elite of House Davion could manage. No other force in the galaxy could maintain such clean drill in the face of such a vicious fight. Hanse was immensely proud of them, the clean lines stepping over hollowed out buildings with the red setting sun bathing them in its rays.

    “Front rank! Ten seconds rapid, commence firing!”



    “Redeploy! Get your tanks on the right and find a clear line of sight!” Romano was shifting units and frantically trying to extricate some form of defence from the confusion. It should have been easy. Relocate one lance from point A to point B, where it could hit the freshly repositioned Davion forces. But in practice, the roads were jammed with vehicles and collapsed buildings, vehicles and mechs were already in life or death struggles with Wolf's Dragoons, and the reserves she had been gathering were still not in position.

    “Grenadiers, what is your position?”

    “We're advancing on the Landing zone, heavily engaging the second unit of Dragoons,” the answer came. “Unable to assist.”

    “Second Capellan Reserve Cavalry, status report?”

    “First Company is engaged, other units approaching your position.”

    “I'm sending you updated coordinates, get over there immediately!” Romano ordered. Albemerle was keeping up the pressure on the Dragoons, but inevitably she had been forced to pull units out of the drive on them to face Davion. It was infuriating, they had been so close!

    Another series of tracers flashed by, a sign the Davion forces now had clear lines of fire across the Capellan positions. Return fire was heading back, a couple of the attackers already sizzling from direct hits, but any Capellan fire was immediately overwhelmed by the Battalion scale volleys hurled back. The Davions were advancing with each attack. As soon as they were close enough, they'd break formation and storm forward, surrounding her allies. Even with numerical superiority, as soon as that happened, it was over.

    “Second Reserve, where is your commander?”

    “I don't know, Ma'am.”

    Romano exhaled, she had her assignment to marshal the reserves, but the situation was clearly critical. “I am assuming command, form on this position and prepare to receive a frontal attack.”

    ”Yes Ma'am!”

    “Not one step back!”



    “Commence firing!”

    The steady routine of fire and advance, fire and advance ground on. Ahead, resistance was increasing as Capellan mechs and tanks were rushed into a hasty defensive line to meet the attack. This was fine, every unit here was a unit not crushing down on the Dragoons. A few more minutes and the Dragoons would be able to disengage, regroup, and rejoin the fight. For a while, it would fall to the Third Guards to confront the full weight of the Capellan elite, and that was something Hanse was ready for.

    A mech to his left staggered and fell out of line, an arm sheared off and leg heavily damaged.

    “Twelve, pull back to the landing ships, you'll do no more good here,” Hanse ordered. “All heavily damaged machines or wounded mechwarriors withdraw to the landing ships! You will be the last line of defence! Fall back and assist Beta Regiment!”

    Another volley crashed, the mechs showing about sixty percent on their heat sinks, averaged out. That was going to have to be good enough. They were close enough now to pick individual targets and the utility or their rigid formation was vanishing. It was time to claim a little glory.

    “Third Guards! Sound the charge!” Hanse gave his eager warriors what they had waited for. “Get in among them and let them know fear!”

    His company commanders played out recorded bugle calls, the peeling notes firing the blood and linking every warrior to their glorious tradition.

    “With me!” Hanse rushed forward, the Battlemaster blazing every weapon as it rushed the Capellan defenses. “Cry God for Ian, New Avalon, and Saint Robert!”

    The two sides met in a clash of heavy metal, often literally as mechs collided with each other. The Capellans were good, but the fighting against the Dragoons had left them exhausted, overheated, and drained of ammunition. As courageous as individual warriors were, the powerful assault by fresh troops was straining them past breaking point. They began to give ground.

    Jaime could catch glimpses of the situation changing, the balance of power shifting. His main focus though was still the Atlas, the Assault mech clawing at his Archer and hitting him with whatever weapon it could. Jaime had knocked out the AC20 as a priority, stuffing its barrel with a freight truck to neutralise it. The mech scale fist fight was hair raising, the Archer barely keeping ahead by sheer virtue of Jaime's superlative piloting skills. He used the terrain as best he could, kept the Atlas on uneven ground so it couldn't really lean into its punches, ducked and weaved as much as the mech would allow like an elderly prize fighter.

    He finally saw an opening as the opposing warrior overextended, allowing the Archer to drive in under a punch and kick one of the Atlas' knees. As the machine staggered and wobbled, Jaime barged into it, throwing the full weight of his Archer into the push, leveraging the mech with every ounce of power to finally topple it. The Atlas dropped with a crunch into some sort of factory, the pilot knocked unconscious by the impact, causing the machine to fall still and motionless.

    “Dragoons!” Jaime tried to sound authoritative, but by now was just so tired and breathless, he was happy simply to be audible. “Disengage and regroup at phase line delta. Withdraw by pairs, do not turn your backs.”

    His Regiment responded quickly, the various lances taking some steps back while maintaining as much fire as they could. Normally, the Capellans would have advanced to take that ground, but not anymore, not with the Davions chewing up their left side. Some Capellans held their ground to make sure the Dragoons didn't try anything foolishly brave, while other units pulled back to face the Davion Guards.

    “Davion lead, Wolf here. Ee're on our way to the rally point. Disengage at your convenience.”

    “Copy that Colonel, we'll see you there.”
     
    21D
  • "Red Lancers, Prefectorate Guard, withdraw to my position," Judith Albamerle ordered curtly, her voice strained and still incredibly tense. "Reform for a counter attack. Water tankers and cooling teams, move forward and do your duty."

    Romana pursed her lips in anger. Their attack had faltered, and while the battle wasn't over yet, they had lost their momentum. The Capellan forces were by now a morass, any regimental lines long since faded. They were a single blob of fighting units, and while that gave them a lot of strength, it offered limited control. Albemarle was trying to fix that, using the relatively fresh reserves to keep the enemy busy, while the superior units took a brief rest to rally for the final push.

    "Davion units are falling back too," one of the scouts notified. It seemed both sides had come to much the same conclusion. They both needed time to regroup and gather their strength.

    "Second Reserves, hold here." Romano followed her instructions. She desperately wanted to charge after the withdrawing enemy, to keep her blade at their throats, but she recognised it was unwise. If she had been commanding the Red Lancers, she would have done it in a heartbeat, but the reserve cavalry was no match for the Davion Guards if they turned around to swat them. "Take defensive positions and be ready to move forward at short notice."

    She watched the enemy withdrawing in good order, maintaining a light fusilade to discourage pursuit. Her blood was burning in her veins. Romano had to fight to keep her composure and bottle up that Liao fury raging inside her head. She had to obey her leaders, follow the orders of the mission commander, and not disgrace herself by letting vanity override common sense. She had seen that happen, perhaps in those closest to her, and if she was to be the future of Liao, she would learn from those mistakes.

    "Hold position and await further orders."



    "It seems there will be a pause in proceedings." Maximilian watched the drone footage of the battleground. "In some battles, there have been agreements that hostilities will cease after a certain time, so both sides may cool down and recharge in the service of chivalry. Quaint."

    "Your city is in ruins." David Sheridan shook his head in simple despair. "How is any of this worth it?"

    "How is it not?" Maximilian replied frankly. "Your friends have attacked my throne world, my capital city. I would fight until the whole of Sian was a ruin before I would give up."

    "Whatever the price in lives?"

    "Ambassador, you still do not understand what is at stake here, do you?" The Chancellor lazily rolled his eyes, his tone that of a weary school teacher. "Lives don't matter. What matters is strength. That is what has always mattered. I had hoped your time here would have helped you see that."

    "I've already seen this kind of strength." He thought back to the occupied worlds freed from the Dilgar invasion, or what he knew of the Narn. "It never lasts."

    "You have visited four of the Great Houses now, and what have you learned?" Maximilian asked seriously. "All of them value strength and power, and all demonstrate it in the same way. The Inner Sphere is defined by survival of the fittest, the strong prosper, the weak submit or they die. We all believe this, even your smiling friends on New Avalon and Tharkaad."

    The Chancellor scoffed.

    "You think they are better people than I am? No, they think they can gain what they want from you with kind words and papers. As soon as that fails, they will bring out the threats, then the armies. I am just honest about how things work."

    "It might be so, but we have to believe there are rulers here that want a better way of doing things."

    "It is your right to believe in a perfect galaxy. In the meantime, I live in the real one," Maximilian dismissed. "You will never understand we who know the power of unrestrained strength."

    "And you will never understand the power it takes to use restraint," Sheridan countered. "To refrain from simply conquering and imposing your will on others. To build friends and allies, not slaves."

    "You waste your time and power. What do you think I would have done with those ships above us? Strike a few airbases and missile sites? Hold back from causing civilian casualties?" He croaked a laugh. "It is not enough to show you have power, you must show the will to use it."

    "We have used it. Take a look outside."

    "No, you haven't. You could have leveled every city on this planet as a warning to others. I would have, Ian Davion would have. All you have shown here is weakness. The other Great Lords are watching, and the lesson they will learn is that you are too afraid of killing to do what must be done."

    "My people have seen enough killing," David remarked sombrely. "Enough in the last twenty years to last forever."

    "That is your weakness," the Chancellor spoke simply. "How much killing do you think we have seen? We were horrified up to a point, but then it all just becomes numbers."

    "And as a result, your whole civilisation collapsed, and here you are, one more big war away from extinction."

    "Or final victory." Maximilian smiled. "Perhaps that is the difference, I would risk all those lives to become First Lord. You wouldn't."

    "I think we finally agree on something."

    "That is why we will win in the end. It doesn't matter what happens here today. We will recover, rebuild, we will be ready for our next fight. Maybe in ten years, maybe in a hundred. In the end we will win, because we are willing to do what you cannot. War broke both of our peoples, but whereas we were reforged into a stronger society, your people remain broken. That is why you will lose."

    His words ended as the doors to his command centre unlocked with a hefty clank, the massive metal bolts withdrawing as powerful engines began to draw the entrance open.

    "Ah, now this is interesting." Maximilian smiled. "I wonder which child it will be?"

    A squad of Capellan Guardsmen rushed into the room, rifles held ready at the shoulder, sweeping for targets. Maximilian's two protectors raised their own weapons in response, outnumbered, but far from intimidated. Behind the guards walked exactly the person the Chancellor was expecting, svelte and smiling down as usual.

    "Candace, I think you're in the wrong bunker."

    "Not this time, father."

    "You will address me as Chancellor while in public, my child."

    "You are no longer Chancellor. For your poor decision making, litany of mistakes, and failure to resolve this crisis before catastrophic damage befell our capital and our reputation, you are dismissed."

    "You don't have anywhere close to that sort of support," Maximilian hissed. "What do you have? A few Guardsmen you shared your bed with? Where are your divisions? Where are your Lances?"

    "Where are yours?" Candace snapped back. "Burning on our streets! Melted by orbital strikes! You have nothing left anymore! The galaxy has changed and so will we! Stand down or be put down!"

    The opposing sides kept their guns on each other. Candace's forces were superior, but Maximilian's guards could easily kill her before they were cut down in turn. For whatever power she had, the final choice in what happened next belonged to Maximilian. He was unlikely to survive, but he could take Candace with him leaving Romano to become the new Chancellor. That had its appeal, and if Romano was a few years older, he might well have made that choice.

    "Bad timing." He smiled slightly. "Lower your weapons."

    His guards hesitated.

    "Do it, this is finished." Maximilian put some hardness in his voice. "Clear the room, I have some words for my daughter. You too, Ambassador. It seems this is where we part ways."

    "I wish I could say it was a pleasant stay."

    "Don't forget what I have taught you. This was a painful lesson, but the memorable ones always are." The words were offered to David, but his gaze never left Candace. "Safe journey, Ambassador Sheridan."

    The assorted staff did as they were told, David finding Jiang just outside with rifle in hand.

    "Mr. Ambassador, can you move?"

    "Yes, yes I'm fine."

    "We need to go right now, a shuttle is putting down just outside." He hustled the older man away, parting company with his erstwhile Capellan allies. "We have the other hostages, you are the last one."

    He risked a last look over his shoulder at the Chancellor, Maximilian Liao rising to stand facing his daughter, the old facing the new. There was no doubt the Confederation would look very different tomorrow morning. For better or worse though, was another question.

    "I expected you'd wait a few more years." Maximilian exhaled heavily. "But I knew this day would come eventually. Romano would have waited until I died, but not you."

    "I will never have a better opportunity." Candace nodded. "And I am right, the galaxy has changed and your way of doing things just doesn't work anymore."

    "So you will try your own way? The diplomacy of the bed chamber? The poison cup?"

    "I wouldn't have brought a fleet of warships to our doorstep," she said offhand. "And now I'm going to have to go and fix this situation. Try to restore some honour to the Liao name."

    "You speak well, like a Davion or a Steiner. But do you have what it takes to rule? What it really takes?"

    "Yes." She withdrew from her pocket an Earth Force PPG pistol, one she had taken from a fallen Ranger outside. "I have."

    She put a single shot into his chest, enough to knock him off his feet and deposit him back in his chair. He was surprised for a moment, then just managed to bring forth a hoarse laugh.

    "I was expecting poison."

    "I've been putting one half of a binary agent in your food for months, but none of us have time for that now." She shrugged, speaking as if this were a normal conversation. "At least you die honourably, shot by an Earth Alliance soldier while defending your command centre."

    "This doesn't end here. Whatever you do, it won't end."

    "Of course not, it never ends, not until a Liao becomes the rightful First Lord." Candace nodded in agreement. "But I will choose the moment of our response. It isn't now."

    "You will be seen as weak."

    "I will be seen as smart." She smiled. "And anyone who thinks me weak will not live to regret it. Just as you think me weak."

    He laughed, weaker now, his breath rasping.

    "I never thought you were weak. You take after your mother too much, you were more her child than mine. But you are not weak. You are a Liao, you will do well enough... until someone better..."

    Maximilian Liao's words faded with his final breath, his eyes losing their light as the blue glow from the strategic displays illuminated his final moments. He died more quietly than most had done this afternoon, but where his passing was silent, his end would be the turning of an era.

    Candace reached across her father's body, not a single flicker of emotion on her face, not a twinge of feeling or regret. She took from his hand his signet ring and placed it on her own, the heirloom of her household. Her House now. Hers and hers alone. She savoured it for a few seconds, then got to work saving it.

    "Ground forces, who is in command?" She activated the communication set up at the nearest console. "Is it you, Major Albemarle?"

    "This is Albemarle, who is on this line?"

    "This is the Chancellor. I need you to cease fire and pull back to a safe distance."

    "I need that order and your identity confirmed."

    "My father is dead. I am Candace Liao, I am the new Chancellor. I am sending my security confirmation on the sub channel. You will cease fire and fall back."

    "Madam, we have them outgunned. We can overrun their landing zone and destroy them all!"

    "And then what? What will you do when they nuke us from orbit in fury?" Candace growled. "You will obey my orders or the next airstrike is heading for your position. Am I being clear on this matter?"

    "Affirmative," Albemarle reluctantly answered. "Chancellor." She quickly added.

    "Good." She flipped through to a private channel. "Hello Jiang, you will find I have kept my side of the bargain. Now you keep yours. Go. Take your people and go."

    She flicked the channel off, neither interested in or needing a reply. He would obey, her people would obey. They might hate her for it, but they would obey. Candace Liao was Chancellor, her Confederation was wounded. It would need someone like her to lead it to new heights. Her father could never have managed this, but she could. And she would.



    "General, ground forces are confirming they have been offered a ceasefire." Major Ryan pressed the commlink to his ear. "Twenty minutes to get off the planet or they go all out."

    "Have we confirmed all hostages are recovered?" Hague didn't take his eyes off the tactical screens.

    "Yes sir, Ambassador Sheridan is on his way up. Psi Corps confirms nobody left behind."

    "Then we take the offer. Order all ships to form up in high orbit, dropships will dock as quickly as practical, then we get the hell out of here." He turned to his fighter control. "Pull back our Starfuries, have them grapple and recover anyone who managed to eject."

    "Aye sir."

    "No one left behind, even if we go over twenty minutes." Hague resolved to the quiet approval of everyone on the bridge. "Major, I also need a targeting plot on the diplomatic transport. We can't tow it with us and don't have the spare crew."

    "Yes sir, locked on and ready to engage."

    "I don't want any of it left behind. Load tactical ordnance, five megaton should do it."



    The withdrawal was smooth, each dropship and assault shuttle loading up and lifting off without interference. Candace watched them go from the front courtyard of the Celestial palace, its paving stones cracked and churned up by mechs, its gardens smeared with blood.

    "Candace!"

    She tilted her head to see Romano storming toward her, sweat stained and grimy still in her cooling suit. She covered the distance in seconds, drew back a hand and slapped her elder sister with all her force.

    "You let him die! You didn't save him! You let him die!"

    "Firstly, you are a child so I will let this assault pass without response. This time." Candace touched her cheek, it was already stinging and tender. "Secondly, you will refer to me as Chancellor in public."

    "Why didn't you stop them killing father?!" Romano demanded tears in her eyes. "He trusted you!"

    "Maximilian didn't trust anyone," Candace said flatly. "He trusted no one, he had faith in no one, he loved no one." Her voice remained monotone. "All he cared about was the reputation of Liao, and his actions have nearly ruined us."

    "That's not true!" Romano looked away. "I know he loved me."

    Candace's blank face broke, a tiny giggle escaping her lips. "You can be so sweet sometimes. He had no love for anyone."

    "You think you know everything!" Romano snapped her head back. "You aren't as clever as you think."

    "I don't need to be, I just need everyone else to think I am." She smiled slightly, the heat from the lift offs tingling her skin even at this distance. "Hate me if you want, but if you value what our father wanted, you will work with me to restore our power. We have taken great damage, we must rebuild quickly. Do you understand?"

    "Yes. Yes, I understand."

    "This isn't even close to finished," Candace promised, a commitment both to her sister and herself. "But we will wait, we will be patient, and we will pick our moment. You did well in the battle. You knew what you could do and what was beyond you. This is the same thing. We will have retribution for this outrage, but not today. Today, we mourn our dear departed Chancellor, tomorrow we smile for the galaxy, and then one day in the future, everyone who has wronged us dies."

    She turned to Romano.

    "This is what it is to be a Liao."

    "This is what it means to be a Liao," her younger sister echoed, and as Candace turned back to watch the ships leave, Romano kept her eyes on her elder sister. There was nothing but hate in them.



    "Agamemnon to fleet, docking operations complete. We are clear to depart."

    "Roger that Agamemnon, angle for departure, standby to jump."

    The flagship initiated her jump drives, coring a vortex through reality big enough for the whole fleet to depart through. The two destroyers laden with dropships left first, covered by the others, then one by one the remaining vessels left. The last to go was the Alexander, and on her way out she fired a single missile from her flank launchers, the device snaking around to connect with the silent transport ship in a brief violent sphere of light and wave of plasma that left nothing in its wake. With the task done, the last Earth Force ship left orbit for the brief hop back toward the middle of the system, far from pursuit.

    "Jump completed," Commander James reported with evident relief. "No sign of hostile contacts. As soon as the KF drives cooldown, we can get out of here."

    "I'll be glad to see the back of this place." Captain Sheridan remained tense. "Damage report?"

    "Negligible, a few missile impacts and one suicide plane. We lost eight fighters, three pilots recovered."

    "Ground forces?"

    "Still coming in but a lot. Thirty percent killed or wounded among the Rangers, I don't know about our allies."

    "Bloody day." The Captain scrunched his eyes. "Damn stupid, all of it."

    "The shuttle carrying the Ambassador has cleared the airlock," Commander James noted on his data pad. "I can handle things up here for a while."

    "No, no that won't be necessary. We're still in enemy territory."

    "Sir, with all due respect, go to the hangar deck." His First Officer gave him a friendly nod. "We've got this Captain."

    Sheridan glanced around his bridge, each officer and technician giving him exactly the same reassuring look. He was still fairly new to this command, but in that moment, he recognised that after this trial, they had become a crew.

    "Alright, you have the ship Commander."

    "Aye sir. I'll give you a call in the event of enemy action or attack by a giant space squid."

    It only took the Captain a few minutes to head down to the docking section, tired and worn out Rangers lined the corridors, still in body armour drinking and eating while medics checked them over. His pilots were already filing back for debriefings while maintenance crews headed the other way to do their own jobs.

    Among these assorted groups, he identified a smaller knot of people closer to the main airlock, a team of special operations troopers gathered around a smaller frailer figure. David Sheridan had never been particularly big, but standing with the elite soldiers really made him look his age. John strode over on a direct line, the troopers noticing him inbound and making a path for him.

    They faced each other for a moment, father and son, not quite sure what the procedure here was going to be. A senior diplomat and naval captain surrounded by tired soldiers crashed out after a hard fight. That mixture of relief, joy, the desire to just do something. After about two seconds it was David that broke through.

    "Come on, son."

    He grabbed his considerably taller son in a strong hug, the action gaining a few slaps on the back and cheers of approval from his rescuers. Neither needed to say anything more, to express what they were thinking, the concerns they would never meet again, the simple joy that it had not come to pass, the depth of gratitude to those who had landed on the planet to rescue all of the hostages. It did not need to be spoken, but it was known.

    "Welcome aboard the Agamemnon," John finally managed to speak, the effort to keep his voice steady immense.

    "Glad to be here, very glad." David was also making a serious effort to hold back his emotions. "Hell of a ship, son."

    "That she is."

    "So, they got a bar on this thing?" David looked around. "I think we could all use a real drink."

    AN: Had to break this into 2 parts as it was so huge. The Sietch will only allow 8500 characters. Wish I had known that before.
     
    Chapter 22
  • New Aragon
    A few Weeks Later


    It seemed like every soldier on the planet was there to welcome them back. The base was packed like a cup final, a sea of humanity all clamouring for a look at the conquering heroes. One by one, the dropships landed at their designated pads, several showing scars of battle, but all of them returning to the place that had waved them off. Word of their success had preceded them, talk of their daring strike at the very heart of the Capellans was all anyone had talked about for weeks and now, finally, they were home.

    The Third Guards disembarked at a steady pace, taking their time and going by the book. Each mech formed up by Lance, several of the units leaving gaps in their ranks to note a fallen brother or sister. When all units were offloaded and accounted for, only then did they begin their march from the landing zone to their encampment, a route that took them through the middle of the base crammed with eager observers.

    It didn't have the pomp and ceremony of a usual parade of Guards. The mechs were beaten and dirty, some lacked pieces or were shot through with holes. On the surface, they were a ragged formation held together with rough welds and gaffer tape. But their drill was flawless, their pace even despite the various types of mechs marching side by side. They moved with pride, every man or woman among them would carry this battle honour to their grave, they would never need to buy a drink in any bar within the Federated Suns ever again. The Regimental colours already carried the new battle honour stitched into the fabric under the royal crest in the place of highest prestige, those flags currently flying at the end of the parade route, behind the waiting First Prince.

    At the front, leading his unit, was Hanse, scorched Battlemaster advancing to the roars of the crowd. He couldn't help but feel elated at the response. It was a victory he'd be hard pressed to equal if he lived to be a hundred. If he had one regret, it was that the Dragoons had chosen to land at a secondary base closer to their own forces. Hanse had invited Colonel Wolf and his units to join this parade, to lead it, in fact, given the weight of the action had been on their shoulders, but Wolf had politely declined. They would bask in the glory later, apparently they had something important to do first.

    The Guards entered their encampment and continued through to form up an a clear square facing the command tents for the various staff officers. Most of the troops were kept at a distance as the Guards took formation for formal review, their every move captured by a gaggle of reporters.

    While the bulk of the unit formed ranks, Hanse halted at the front of the command post where his elder brother waited to formally greet them. He knelt his mech in both a mark of respect and to get his cockpit hatch closer to the ground, then exited the machine and deftly descended a rope ladder. It wasn't the easiest or most graceful act, Hanse also highly aware hundreds of billions of people were going to be seeing this moment, but he managed it without embarrassing himself and snapped to attention before the First Prince, offering his salute.

    "Your Highness, I report your Third Guards have returned from the field. We have met the enemy, and we have made them ours."

    The formal report, broadcast across the base, drew another riotous cheer from the massed soldiers just outside the encampment. Ian waited for the cheers to subside before answering the salute.

    "House Davion welcomes your return with joy and with honour. Dismiss your warriors, until I call upon them again to fulfill their duty."

    Hanse inclined his head in a simple bow, then turned on his heel and took a microphone hastily handed to him by an adjutant.

    "Third Davion Guards! Stand down and fall out!"

    And with that the formalities were done, the mechs moved off to their mech bays for vital repairs and maintenance, legions of mechanics, logistics trucks and specialised vehicles keen to receive them. Hanse himself turned back toward the command tent, his brother beckoning him over.

    "You have no idea how jealous I am. Five hundred years from now, people are still going to be talking about this." Ian slapped his brother's shoulder, grinning heartily. "You're already called the Scourge of Sian. I've had to hire an entire team of secretaries to sift through all the marriage applications you've been sent!"

    "That's not something I really need to think about right now." The two brothers headed into the privacy of the tent, dropping into some folding chairs beside a large map table. "Did you receive my after action report?"

    "I did, the Cappies really took a beating then?"

    "Their Aerospace units were savaged, their ability to project power is severely reduced," Hanse quickly laid out. "With the changeover of government too..."

    "You don't need to tell me, Hanse. I already have four RCT's massing for a full assault into the Chesterton worlds, with another fourteen line regiments getting over here as fast as we can move them. If we're lucky, we might make some real gains." Ian could see his brother's train of thought. "I heard old man Marik is also expediting an attack, which means we should expect them to deploy some time in the next thirty years."

    Hanse coughed out a laugh. The Marik's were notoriously disorganised, but given the circumstance he guessed they already had troops deploying for an invasion on the opposite side of Capellan space.

    "Should we coordinate with Marik?" Hanse asked. "Might upset the Steiners."

    "Already done. I'm not interested in cutting across Capellan space in some grand blitz. This is more of a focused attack to claim the maximum territory in the minimum time," Ian replied honestly. "The Capellans are vulnerable, but Kurita hasn't made any moves. We can't afford the effort needed to break Liao with those snaky bastards looking to jump on us."

    Hanse nodded. Much as he wanted to turn around and go right back to Sian with a full invasion, it wasn't a realistic option. Not yet anyway.

    "What happens next?"

    "You go back to New Avalon with the Third Guards, dress up in your Sunday Best, march up and down waving at crowds and generally boost morale. This victory is a gift for recruitment and national pride, milk it for all its worth."

    "So I'm the Davion show pony?" Hanse tilted an eyebrow in distaste.

    "You know the value of keeping the people motivated as much as I do," Ian chided. "Besides, it'll take time to bring the Third back to full strength, and I need to get this campaign moving here. When that is done, you'll be back here. I'm making you governor of New Aragon."

    "Old George isn't going to like that."

    "George Hasek will do as he is told," Ian spoke firmly. "He's cantankerous, but he knows his duty. New Aragon will be a major staging area for our campaign against the Capellans, a lynchpin in our logistics system. It will be a thankless, stressful, infuriating job. Have fun."

    "Thanks brother, truly."

    Ian laughed genuinely. "It'll give you a taste of my life. You think all you have to do is sit on a throne and wave at courtiers for a while before charging off into some grand battle somewhere. Best advice I can give you, get your signature made into a rubber stamp. You'll thank me later."

    It wasn't exactly what he was expecting, but the logic was flawless. Ian was setting up Hanse for a future role at the top of the table, one of the great offices of state, which meant he needed experience ruling a people. New Aragon was an obvious choice, small enough to be manageable, but important enough to be prestigious. He'd have to deal with a potentially hostile population, violent raids, and the probable machinations of his nearby neighbours on New Syrtis. Setting Hanse up in the Hasek sphere of influence was a clear statement from Ian to that bloodline, remember your place.

    "I serve as requested, First Prince."

    "You're a war hero, nobody will ever question your courage or capacity as a leader of warriors. Make a good job of this and you can show you are a wise, even handed, and benevolent lord of the common people," Ian explained. "And then I'll bring you home and give you a crash course on Courtly Politics."

    "Saving the best for last then?" Hanse grinned, drawing a weary exhalation from his elder brother.

    "It's a nightmare. Hardest lesson I learned was that I couldn't just stomp all my enemies with a mech. Some I have to invite into my home."

    "Hardly sounds worth being First Prince if you can't bring a mech to court. The Steiners did."

    "Sadly, we have to be more clever about it, and by we I mean you." Ian turned very serious. "I'm going to rely on you in the near future, brother. You were always better at reading people than me. Don't give me false flattery, you know you are. I'm counting the days until I can get you into court as my ally. Can I rely on you, Hanse?"

    "What sort of question is that?"

    "The most important question I've ever asked."

    "Of course you can," Hanse promised. "To the death."

    "Well, let's try and avoid that." Ian smiled again, a weight lifted from him. "Come on, tell me all about your trip. Start with those warships, did you get anything on how they work?"

    "Intel is already taking the data logs. You know they have a completely different form of faster than light travel? Also, did you see what their energy weapons can do?"

    "Start at the beginning, if there's anything we can use I want to know."



    Four Months Later
    Atreus
    Capital World of the Free Worlds League


    "Are you alright, Ambassador? Are you okay to do this?"

    David Sheridan had been lost in thought to the point that he had neglected his companion, the old diplomat raising his head and addressing the concern with a warm smile.

    "I'm fine, thank you, really."

    "It's just... well..."

    "I know, and I appreciate the concern." David clapped his hands together. "But we have a job to do, and I am going to damn well finish this tour. I have to, I've made promises I can't take back."

    The President had initially voiced the same concerns when David had indicated he was ready to finish the mission and visit the last of the Great Houses. Levy had told him other diplomats were quite able to take up the role and he should consider a quiet posting after his ordeal. David Sheridan was having none of that.

    All of his colleagues had said the same, they wanted to finish the job in honour of those who now could not. A second ship had been prepared, pulled from other duties and given a quick coat of paint and FTL upgrade which had taken a month to finish, and then they were sent on their way. There had been a little reluctance in some of the Senate when it came to sending the mission back out, but by most accounts House Marik was fair and reasonable, if you could manage to get them organised enough to see you. After the Raid on Sian, scheduling an appointment had been very simple.

    So they had come to Atreus, in the heart of Marik territory. Sheridan now sat in the back of another limousine, being driven to another grand building to talk to another dictator. Though perhaps that wasn't entirely fair. The Free Worlds League was ostensibly a democracy of a sort with a functioning Parliament, or at least somewhat functional. It seemed to have a lot of issues due to its size and inability of its member principalities to agree, meaning the nation had a lot of talking, but not much deciding. In emergencies, the Captain General, almost always a Marik, could exercise some executive authority and make things happen, but the actual power of the position varied depending on the strength of the Captain General. Janos Marik, the current head of the House, was not considered a great example of his line.

    Still, for all the possible hurdles, the Free Worlds had much to commend them and many in the Alliance Senate were keen to establish trade and business contacts. While the Lyrans appeared to be the manufacturing kings of this galaxy, the League had embraced free trade and had a strong mercantile outlook, which mirrored the Alliance economy. As soon as the prospect of wealth had been brought up, the reservations in the senate had rather quickly evaporated.

    Sheridan was still considered the Alliance's most able diplomat and there was no overt objection to his assignment. He wasn't blamed for the Sian situation. No Ambassador could have realistically avoided that situation, though there was always going to be an undercurrent of failure there. The rescue mission had cost Earth Force two hundred highly trained personnel, and while considered a success, the losses to one of the few elite units the army had left were keenly felt. It made the atmosphere a little uncertain, apprehensive, and that was probably getting to him.

    He forced himself to brighten up. In the grand scheme of things, this was probably going to be an easy meeting. The Free Worlds had sounded keen to establish trade links and the demonstration of naval power at Sian offered a new guarantee of safety. Still, he just didn't feel as comfortable as he once did. Maybe the ordeal had affected him more than he wanted to admit.

    His new companion was also nervous, no doubt picking up on the atmosphere as she sat opposite him in the back of the car. While the President and Senate were supportive of the mission, the Psi Corps had been less thrilled. Nigel Morrison had been their most experienced diplomatic operatives. If not a telepath, he'd probably have been skilled enough to do David's job one day, and the Corps was extremely displeased at his loss. They had in the end agreed to send another telepath, but instead of an experienced veteran, they had sent an extremely young looking woman.

    "This should be nice and straight forward, Miss Alexander. All our reports say the Mariks are drooling over the idea of a trade agreement, especially after seeing what the Lyrans have."

    "I know, and just Lyta is fine." His new telepath smiled quickly. "Just my first time doing this kind of thing."

    "I'm not sure I follow?" Sheridan frowned. "You mean negotiations?"

    "On this scale." She quickly clarified. "I started in law enforcement but... but it wasn't for me." She moved away from that subject very quickly. "I am a fully trained commercial telepath, I've sat in on dozens of negotiations. Just, well, nothing like this. A first contact with a massive empire? A trade deal maybe worth trillions?"

    "Thousands of trillions." David smiled. "Relax, we're just making initial contact and your job is just to make sure everyone is telling the truth. Remember, they don't know about telepaths here."

    "Yeah, and we're not telling them?" Lyta grimaced. "Is that okay?"

    "We won't be violating their privacy, no scans of any kind. Just get a feel for their aura and let me know if they are going to try screw us over. Or throw us in jail."

    "Right. That's not likely, is it?"

    "After what happened to Sian, I think we'll be fine."

    Their vehicle came to a halt before the stunning chrome and marble facade of Government House, wide stone steps rising to great doors lined with immaculate purple uniformed soldiers.

    "Ready?" Sheridan shuffled forward, a pair of Marik guardsmen advancing to open the door.

    "Right behind you." Lyta exhaled. "Oh, wait, is this going to be on TV?"

    Before he could say anything else, the door swung open and the show was on. Sheridan took it in his stride, the noise, the cameras, the massive crowds all curious about these unknown people from the deep periphery who had embarrassed a great house. Lyta was considerably less prepared, not for the first time reflecting that her assignment here was perhaps a punishment rather than an opportunity. Still, she had a job to do so she raised her head and kept a couple of paces behind and beside the Ambassador.

    They were escorted inside to a much quieter, but still excessive marble lined lobby, where they finally met their hosts, a few cameras there to catch the moment.

    "Greetings and welcome!" A dark bearded man stepped forth and stretched out a hand. "I am Anton Marik, Marshal of the Capellan Front and brother to the Captain General."

    "Marshal." Sheridan took the hand. "It is an immense honour to be invited to your breathtaking city."

    "You are too kind." Anton inclined his head slightly. "I am sorry my brother is not here to welcome you personally. He is unwell at the moment, so I stand in his place."

    "Nothing serious I hope?" Sheridan knew a negotiating ploy when he saw one.

    "The Captain General is a man of great responsibilities and many troubles weigh upon his brow." Anton spoke with not entirely sincere concern. Sheridan was quite aware the conversation was being recorded for the news services. Implying the leader of the nation was in some way overwhelmed struck him as unwise. "He will speak with you when he can. In the meantime, I will conduct this meeting."

    "Then I am in your care, Marshal Marik."

    "May I introduce Duggan Marik, our recently appointed Minister of Trade, and Shane Eastwick representing Parliament."

    The party moved from the lobby to an architecturally bold meeting room that stood apart from the more ancient looking dwellings of the other Great Houses. It could have easily been one of the diplomatic offices in Geneva back home, yet to Marik what Sheridan saw as modern design ideals would be ancient history.

    "To begin with Ambassador Sheridan, I personally guarantee your safety." Anton Marik placed his hand on his heart, perhaps a little too dramatically. "Our word is our bond here."

    "That is reassuring." Sheridan took the gesture at face value. "I understand your nation has been engaging the Capellans recently?"

    "That is very true, my own forces in fact." Anton smiled widely. "I am responsible for operations on the Capellan front and we have made some progress. With reinforcements from our core armies, we're looking forward to taking some key territories. Some even speak of taking Tikonov itself."

    "Those people are, of course, idiots." Eastwick bellowed a laugh. "We can make some real progress but only if we get more Militia mobilised. Correct, Marshal?"

    "Correct." Anton nodded. "It is taking time, drawing troops from some principalities is like getting blood from a stone. Even when we have such a golden opportunity."

    "For all the greed and ambition out there, you'd think getting them to pounce on the weak would be much easier." Eastwick sighed, the big man clearly disgruntled. "Anyway, you don't need to hear our problems. Let's talk business."

    "The Earth Alliance is keen to open diplomatic relations and trade links to the Free Worlds League." Sheridan made his move. "My government sees a lot of itself reflected in your commitment to trade and entrepreneurialism."

    "Wars come and go." Duggan was leaning forward over the table. "Business is eternal."

    "I have a list of items we'd like to offer, and some things we'd like to acquire." Sheridan handed over a thin data tablet for the delegation. "We're mostly interested in raw materials, but in light of recent events, the military is now interested in buying a selection of mechs for evaluation."

    "What sort of evaluation?" Anton wondered.

    "We aim to buy a broad selection of types from manufacturers across the galaxy, see which fit our needs, and then offer a partnership with any winning bidders."

    "Partnership?" Duggan frowned. "Usually you just place an order and we deliver. What can you offer that would justify a partnership?"

    "Based on your own publicly available financial reports, your nation produces about five hundred mechs per year of all types." Sheridan observed. "If you partner with us, in exchange for full access to your Mech production infrastructure and licences to build our own, we can fully refit and modernise your factories."

    "What do you mean by modernise in this context?" Anton pressed.

    "It will depend exactly on what we find. It might be cheaper just to build a new factory. Which we can do. A fully automated production line controlled by intelligent computers which could increase output by a factor of ten."

    "By a factor of ten... you said." Duggan was almost drooling.

    "If you win the bid." Sheridan reminded him. "The bid is open to all mech producers."

    "I'll make it known." Anton promised. "I am sure you'll see a lot of offers."

    "A factor of ten..." Duggan was still on the last comment.

    "We will also of course offer the same Tachyon communication system we have given the other Great Houses. Well, those who didn't imprison us." Sheridan flickered a smile. "It will grant you secure real time communications across vast distances. I am sure you can appreciate the ability to coordinate with House Davion almost instantaneously."

    "Are you setting yourself up to rival Comstar?" Anton queried.

    "No, this system is smaller in scale and likely to be reserved only for the highest priority users. Comstar's place as the general purpose communication host of choice is safe. We also charge no money for its use. Once it's yours, it's yours."

    "These are very generous offers Ambassador, the potential technological benefits..."

    They were interrupted by a uniformed officer entering the room, he did not knock.

    "Ambassador, the Captain General will see you now."

    The atmosphere chilled notably as Anton cleared his throat.

    "I am in the middle of negotiations." He glared. "Talks the Captain General was not well enough to attend."

    "He is well now. Ambassador, if you please."

    "These are my negotiations now." Anton reacted with bitterness and anger in his voice. "The Captain General should leave me to finish them. He put me here to do a job and now he insults me by..."

    "Ambassador." The guard cut off Anton with zero concern for his predicament. "You may return to continue afterwards. The rest of the delegates may remain here."

    "My aide?" He looked at Lyta.

    "Just you, personally."

    Sheridan nodded and stood. Anton was absolutely furious at this apparent slight, while the other two maintained an awkward silence. Lyta also remained still and quiet, David giving her a little smile and wink as he started walking past.

    "Be back soon," he promised. "You can trust me on this one."

    "I hope so." She remained rigid and hyper alert. "I'll save your seat."

    The officer led him to a different part of the well kept building to a small side apartment. He knocked on the door, waited for a reply, then opened it for the Ambassador alone to enter. Inside was fairly plain, just a basic room for visitors and guests, with only a few amenities. Waiting slouched in a chair was the Captain General, looking a lot more tired than his pictures had hinted.

    "Ambassador Sheridan, sit down somewhere, anywhere." He waved about the room. "Take some food or drink as you wish."

    "I appreciate the hospitality, Captain General."

    Janos Marik just grunted, he didn't seem to care much for appearances and pleasantries, his lank hair long and unkempt. Sheridan reasoned he could be ill, suffering from some ailment, but based on the briefings from the Davion and Steiner households, the theory was Janos was just ground down by a string of disasters. Katrina Steiner had guessed that the death of Janos' first wife had been the tipping point, but enough had gone wrong for him it could have been anything.

    "You killed Maximilian." Janos eventually spoke.

    "He was alive when I left him." Sheridan answered honestly. "I'd say one of his own did it."

    "It wasn't a rebuke, you should take credit for it." Janos chuckled a little. "Wily bastard deserves to rot."

    "His daughter seems more level headed."

    "Give it a few years and she'll be just as bad. Still, maybe in a few years there won't be any Liaos left."

    Janos took a long swig of something, his face blank and hanging heavy. He didn't look inspiring, but he still acted as a man with immense power. He might not have been especially strong or popular, but he wasn't entirely out of place.

    "I was listening in on your meeting. Why are you giving away technology?"

    "We're not Captain General, we're trading it." Sheridan countered.

    "Yes, I saw your terms. You want trash for treasure." He waved dismissively. "Minerals, metals? Certain mechanical parts? In exchange for a completely new and vastly superior form of communication? I bet the other Lords bit your hand off."

    "They were happy to accept."

    "Nobody gives away something like that for a few million tons of resources."

    "Several billion tons," Sheridan again corrected. "Over the next two decades."

    "Irrelevant, with this you could be king makers. Is that what you want? Are you angling to replace Comstar as the arbiters of any disputes?"

    "We'll be speaking with Comstar very soon to reassure them we have no plans to supplant them."

    "I'm not taking this deal until I know what you really want," Janos said simply.

    "Then I suppose we leave empty handed."

    The head of House Marik glared at Sheridan for a long while, a little fire in his expression before offering a curt nod.

    "They sent the right man. You don't crack easily, Ambassador."

    "I've had a lot of practice." Sheridan spoke the truth. "Of course we have our goals, but they are not hostile. Superior communication between governments will reduce misunderstandings, help ease tensions, generally make the galaxy a safer place."

    "Which benefits you?"

    "Of course it does. I wasn't just flattering your team when I said we share similar views on trade and business. The Earth Alliance is a free market economy and we are very keen to get into business with new partners. We can offer you a lot, and in turn we gain plenty."

    "This partnership with mech manufacturers then, are you serious about it?"

    "Completely."

    "Automated factories are worth their weight in platinum, there are only a handful still left working and they are defended jealously."

    "That is true here in the Inner Sphere, it is not true in the Earth Alliance." Sheridan spoke as clearly as possible. "We can build new factories in months. We have the resource base and infrastructure to mass produce military units from now until the sun burns out. It is very important, Captain General, that you understand this simple point. The golden days that you look back on and will never be able to restore, they are our present."

    "Then why share it?"

    "Because we want to trade. Because we want the best mechs you can provide and no corporation in the galaxy is going to look away from this deal," Sheridan said simply. "And no government is going to let their rivals secure such an advantage without matching it themselves."

    "You will fundamentally shift the balance of power in the galaxy. It will trigger an arms race," Janos warned.

    "Perhaps, but is the status quo really working out for anyone?" Sheridan asked. "Maybe a change is needed."

    "One that triggers a full scale war?"

    "Or helps prevent one." Sheridan replied. "In either case, you can see the obvious advantages of accepting our trade deal."

    Janos took a long drink.

    "Were you this blunt with the other Lords?"

    "No, but times have changed." Sheridan admitted. "President Levy is leaving office and President Elect Santiago is far more energetic when it comes to our relationships in the Inner Sphere. In the past we tried to hide our capabilities. We weren't sure where we stood, how much danger we might be in. This caused us to be underestimated, made certain groups assume we were weak. That cost many lives."

    "Your next President has a new philosophy then?"

    "Yes, to treat you the same as we would treat any neighbours. We will be open, we will be fair, and if we are attacked or otherwise compromised, we will respond with the wrath of an angry god."

    "I see." Janos managed a tiny smile. "Glad to see you are fitting in."

    "The other side of that is President Santiago is saddened by the hardships of the Inner Sphere, and as such is ready to help make things better. The mech factories are just a taste, we can restore standards of living, of education, of industry to a level you haven't seen in centuries."

    "But again, why? Why would you give potential rivals such a degree of power?"

    "Officially, because we wish to become allies and partners with the more noble of the Great Houses. Unofficially, we want strong, stable and prosperous trading partners bringing in new ideas, technologies, and resources. This will also boost our own economy to levels nobody could dream of a few years ago. But don't assume that we are putting our future in your hands. Everything we give, we can take away."

    "I see." Janos nodded simply. "I read briefings on you, Ambassador Sheridan, they were wrong. You are as hard in negotiations as any man I've known."

    "We made some mistakes. Our approach was flawed, but I think we're starting to figure out how this game works," Sheridan allowed. "The purpose of this diplomatic tour was to see who we could work with, who could become partners in trade and security. We've made our choice, and we would very much like to work with you and House Marik."

    "But not the Liaos and Kurita?"

    "They had their chance."

    "It will be war then." Janos shrugged. "But not with me, Ambassador. Only a fool would turn his back on this, even with the strings attached."

    "The President also has some idea on how to foster diplomatic relations between the big players, providing a type of forum where they can talk instead of fight." Sheridan remarked. "Still in the planning stages, but he's thinking big."

    "It won't work, but I'm curious to see what he wastes his money on." Janos half smiled. "But for us, at least, well, I know a good investment when I see one."



    Terra
    About the same time


    It didn't really look all the different, the same continents and oceans, same population centres, some variations in urban sprawl and orbital structures, but to all intents and purposes, it was just the same planet. It brought up the same sort of pride and desire to defend this blue marble as their true home did, and that was actually quite disconcerting. It took a moment of real effort to disconnect instinct from logic. This was not their home, rather they were pilgrims in a dangerous land.

    "High orbit achieved, we are clear to head down to the surface at our convenience."

    General Hague gave a nod of acknowledgement. He did want to get down as quickly as possible, as much from overwhelming curiosity as anything else, but he also had a job to do. He'd arrived in system a few days ago aboard the Alexander with the Agrippa acting as escort, seventh of the Omega class and the first of the second batch of destroyers. By now the yards were at full capacity, building half a dozen Omegas per month, plus an assortment of smaller units. In a few years, they would be back to full strength, but then what?

    The scientists were still theorising about what had sent them to this place with no obvious answer yet. The chances of them figuring out how to reverse it was right now infinitesimally small. There was also the question of whether or not they actually wanted to go back, whether they wanted to throw themselves back into the hopeless grinder of war. At first, the answer was obvious. As soon as the military was ready, they would strike back. But now that idea was starting to become less popular, the vigour was fading and people were cooling on the prospect of fighting.

    Earth was getting used to the loss of its colonies, which was a terrible thing to many, but rapidly becoming the new reality. This new place offered new opportunities, new chances to advance and to prosper. It had dangers, but so far nothing like the danger they had just escaped. The Alliance could do well here. People were starting to realise that, to see a future where they could be incredibly influential, and they were liking it.

    Hague was firmly in the return to finish the job camp, as were most of the officers he knew. The military wasn't happy running from a fight and abandoning the people they had sworn to defend, but even the hardiest warriors knew going back right now was suicide. Every year that passed dampened that fervour, and the potential threats from elsewhere would draw their focus and resources. The army was already receiving a boost to their budget to establish a Battlemech brigade based on local experience. It was apparent that the Senate was settling in for the long run.

    The Inner Sphere was a different enemy, familiar yet utterly alien. Earth Force could fight them, but it couldn't meaningfully conquer them, just destroy them. There was no way the people of the Alliance would sanction Mass Drivers being used against fellow human beings, unless the situation escalated to be an existential threat to Earth, something that seemed unlikely given Earth Force's clear superiority in space. The future President knew that. He was stepping into a very complex game where he had the option of small scale, highly precise warfare or outright flipping the table and not much in between. Not yet anyway.

    Santiago would work on that. His approval of an expanded Battlemech force was an attempt to mimic the style of warfare within the Sphere, but improve upon it, give Earth the option to make limited attacks with a high chance of success. Hague wasn't sure it was a great idea and remained a firm believer in the fleet as the best option in any conflict, but the raid on Sian had fired the public imagination and the Senate had practically thrown buckets of money at the army so it could do the same thing. So now they would hold trials, test the various models of mech, then team up with whoever made the winners and churn out several hundred shiny new warmachines. It didn't sound a lot, but initial reactions from the Federated Suns and the Lyrans had been very favourable.

    Before that though, there was Terra.

    "Alert traffic control, tell them we are on the way down at the Primus' invitation."

    The journey down was just as odd. Their destination was coincidentally enough Geneva, where the day to day government of Terra ran its business. Hague was aware that true power rested with the Comstar inner circle at a place named Hilton Head Island, but that location was strictly controlled and shrouded in secrecy. Hague didn't mind. It would be interesting to compare Terra's version of the well known city, even the de-orbit followed the exact same flightpath he'd used countless times back home.

    "You'd never tell." His aide Major Ryan peered from the small windows at the ground rushing past. "They've kept the place nice."

    "Tidied it up after the last wars at least." Hague nodded. "Though they say the old capital is still a no-go area."

    "We did pick up some residual radiation, though not as bad as expected," Ryan confirmed. "There's a lot of defences still intact down here. Back when it was the Star League, this place was a fortress."

    "And yet it still fell." Hague watched the clouds in the distance. "We'd have a hell of a time doing the same thing, even if it was a couple of centuries ago, it shows what's possible."

    "Long range scans show some decent shipyards out at Saturn and some successful attempts at terraforming. Those stories about them making Venus habitable were true."

    "But they let it all slip away." The General felt bad for the people of the Inner Sphere, to have risen so high and then for all their glories and achievements to slip through their fingers. President Santiago was interested in helping the more friendly nations, but that had limits. Alliance scientists were terraforming Venus and Mars back home, but it was a painfully slow process scheduled to take centuries. Even if they wanted to, they couldn't save this version of Venus, or even Mars. It was a small reminder that whatever the state of the current galaxy, the Star League had been a truly mighty institution.

    The shuttle touched down at a small spaceport allowing the pair of officers to disembark. Waiting for them were a selection of Comguards dressed in their curious attire that made them look like something from a fantasy middle aged world. They boarded a monorail which took them swiftly to one of the government buildings set aside for their mission. This was not officially a meeting with Comstar, rather they were here to finalise matters with Chancellor Candace Liao on neutral ground. Comstar was happy to facilitate the meeting naturally, their leadership using it as a chance to ingratiate themselves with both parties.

    Hague and Ryan were led to an antechamber, their arrival through one door mirrored precisely by the arrival of two robed men through a different one. No waiting. The guards departed giving the small group the appearance of privacy. Hague had no doubt every word and gesture was being recorded.

    "General Hague, welcome to my world." A somewhat affable middle aged man welcomed him, smiling widely from beneath his religious inspired hood. "Julian Tiepolo, Primus of Comstar."

    "Glad to be here Primus. My government sends its regards and appreciation for your offer to host this moment."

    "Exactly what we are here for, to promote and facilitate peace," Tiepolo said confidently. "This is my good friend Precentor Vesar Kristofur, he will be assisting me today."

    "And my aide, Major Ryan," Hague finished the introductions.

    "This is your first visit to Terra gentlemen?" Tiepolo asked. "Or Earth, as you might say. What do you think of the world you still honour with the name of your nation?"

    "Yes, our first time setting foot here." Hague was telling the truth. "And it is beautiful."

    "This is what peace looks like, what the whole galaxy will one day look like." Kristofur spoke with absolute certainty. "This is proof of Blake's vision."

    "Terra is the cradle of civilisation, a shining example," Tiepolo agreed. "But one that we have carefully nurtured and protected. The peace you see is recent. As I understand, you were not present for much of our history, so you may not know the terrible calamities this world suffered."

    "Only from books and videos, Primus." Hague again spoke true.

    "Our entire purpose in life, the purpose of Comstar as a whole, is to preserve what is best in mankind, guard it, and then when possible, return this peace to everyone. Sadly, at least for now, there is too much war and discontent for that to be a reality."

    "It is an honourable goal," Hague allowed. "My government would also like to see peace and prosperity return to the Inner Sphere. Perhaps we have common cause?"

    "I would like to think so, but I must be honest General, your actions have recklessly disrupted the order of things."

    "We are merely attempting to establish peaceful relations with the powers of the galaxy," Hague said innocently. "When our delegates were attacked and imprisoned, should we have ignored the provocation?"

    "You might instead have asked me to intercede," Tiepolo very gently chided. "We have experience in these matters, a history which regrettably you do not share. We could have done with words what you did with guns."

    "Or you might not," Hague pointed out. "It is also necessary for us to resolve our own problems, if possible. To show other potential aggressors we are not so weak as they believe."

    "So instead, you restart the age of warships." Kristofur glared daggers at the General. "The galaxy is afraid, they know they are vulnerable to such an attack themselves. Now they will try to expand their military power, making the galaxy a more dangerous place."

    "There is also the matter of tachyon communications," Tiepolo brought up. "Such a system is a remarkable technological achievement. I am surprised you were able to master it."

    "I don't know many of the specifics, I am no scientist." Hague responded carefully. "I just know they work."

    "And you have a completely unknown method of faster than light travel. Again, this is something never even hinted at in any study or theory." Tiepolo watched him carefully. "It seems in several ways you surpass the Star League. And now you bring this technology back with you, and offer it to the Inner Sphere."

    "Some of it," Hague nodded. "Mostly civilian technology."

    "It isn't hard to shift civilian infrastructure to become military facilities." Tiepolo lowered his head in a show of regret. "Truck factories can easily make tanks, passenger shuttles may quickly become bombers, nuclear reactors can produce the core materials for atomics."

    "We are trying to promote peace, yet you will be sharing the means for the Great Houses to rebuild for another massive war," Kristofur accused. "Probably the last war that will finally finish us all."

    "There is no guarantee they will turn those technologies to war."

    "Of course they will!" The Precentor snapped. "It's all they ever do!"

    "What we mean is it is too great a risk." Tiepolo spoke more calmly. "And we would ask that you refrain from giving any more technology until we can create a schedule for it. Share it slowly over an extended time frame."

    "With all due respect, Primus, we don't have the time to drip feed vital technologies and industry," Hague responded bluntly. "We will sell approved civilian technologies to our trade partners as they wish. We will sell them jumpships by the thousand, automated mines and refineries so they can build cities, industrial hubs, laboratories, schools, and infrastructure. It is within our power to make every world look like Terra. Everyone can live like this within a few decades. This is a great moment, and we would like you to help us do it."

    "Help you?" Kristofus spat, Tiepolo silencing him with a raised hand.

    "History has shown us General, that too much, too soon can lead to disaster. It feeds arrogance, pride, overconfidence. The carefully laid out words of the Blessed Blake guide us on how best to manage the rebirth of the Star League and civilisation. Your methods would undo all of that. So instead it is I, we, who ask for your help. Cancel your trade deals, disable your tachyon relays, go home and forget about the Inner Sphere. You survived well enough all this time alone, trying to integrate yourself here will lead only to destruction. For you and for us."

    "I'm afraid that die is now cast, Primus, we will be providing industrial, economic, and humanitarian aid to our partners," Hague promised. "This galaxy has squandered centuries of growth and potential, it has been robbed of what it might have been. We want to change that."

    "Then you will kill us all."

    "No Primus, but trust me when I say that there are plenty of things out there that would."

    "Let me share with you the fundamental truth of our time, General. The Inner Sphere is full of those who would burn everything to dust, rather than see it in the hands of an enemy." Tiepolo emphasised his words very clearly. "Every gift you give is a target, everyone who gathers around it victims waiting to die. By giving advantages to one group, you force those who do not have them to attack before the gulf in abilities grows so wide victory becomes impossible. You must see this."

    "We have taken that into account." Hague nodded. "President Santiago is confident that the promise of prosperity will sway all powers to seek partnership with us."

    "Liao and Kurita never will."

    "We are confident they will, if not the current leaders, then perhaps their successors."

    Tiepolo smiled again, but not the gentle smile of a priest this time. "I think I understand where your President is coming from. Please pass on my regards, I hope to meet him one day, and perhaps he will listen to my words if I speak them directly."

    "I'll pass it along."

    One of the guards returned, he said nothing, just nodded.

    "It seems Chancellor Liao is ready." Tiepolo switched his attitude, once again radiating a calm gentle aura and gesturing for the group to follow him. "Let us conclude this treaty and at least end one conflict."

    The moved to the next room over to find Candace Liao and a few attendants already at the large table. Hague took his place opposite, with Tiepolo sitting himself at the head of the table. By his side he had several sheets of thick paper containing the formal text of the treaty.

    "Now, I trust the terms are acceptable to both governments?"

    "The President and Senate have ratified the terms," Hague confirmed.

    "They are acceptable, but only under protest." Candace said flatly. "We acknowledge the responsibility for the conflict lies with Maximilian Liao, but we agree to reparations only under duress. The attack inflicted great damage to my people, the damage to the Forbidden city will take many years to fix at great cost. We believe we have suffered enough."

    "Do you acknowledge these points, General?"

    "I do, but the Earth Alliance Government rejects them."

    "The reparations are to consist of..." Tiepolo looked through the documents. "The transfer of one mech factory and all associated infrastructure, including reactor manufacturing plants, armour forges, myomer production facilities, and armament factories."

    "We are currently at war and have need of such facilities," Candace spoke sharply. "We seek a delay until after the conflict is over."

    "My government rejects any delay," Hague responded. "Please disassemble and prepare the marked facilities for pickup by Alliance freighters."

    Candace kept a blank face but her anger was obvious.

    "You can refuse to sign," Tiepolo said.

    "Negotiations have already taken too long." Candace shook her head. "We need peace."

    "The Earth Alliance will honour the peace. We accept the rule of Chancellor Candace Liao as a fresh start and as a sign of this, we will give the Capellan Confederation a Tachyon communication device."

    Tiepolo almost imperceptibly twitched.

    "We believe this will help prevent future miscalculations," Hague concluded. "I will sign on behalf of the President."

    The two sides moved to stand beside Tiepolo, Candace signing first, then Hague, then the Primus as witness.

    "Well, that's done," Tiepolo stepped back. "The conflict between you is over."

    "My President hopes we can move past this unfortunate incident," Hague said formally.

    "I hope so too. You seem to grant many favours to your allies, as I hear it. One day, I hope to be among them." She inclined her head. "Enjoy your Urbanmech factory."

    "Chancellor." Hague nodded, then turned on his heel and left, Major Ryan falling into step beside him.

    "Those people are the death of the Inner Sphere." Tiepolo turned to Candace. "They will make half the galaxy depend on them, let their puppets crush those who remain free, and then they will be lords of a mockery Star League."

    "I don't care for your narrative Primus, don't feed me stories." Candace waved him away. "They don't give a damn about conquering the galaxy, but they are definitely up to something."

    "Can I assume I still have your support?"

    "If I have yours." She nodded. "I brought what we were able to recover from their forces. We couldn't strip the entire KF drive from their diplomatic transport in time, but we have the key components. The initiator, the power systems, whatever made it different."

    "I'll ensure it is studied by my best scholars."

    "My engineers tell me the design is simple, but the alloys involved are far beyond our ability to replicate. You might have more luck."

    "And the weapons?" Kristofur asked.

    "An assortment of rifles, recovered guns from destroyed fighters, examples of their hull material." She nodded. "All as requested. What do you have for me?"

    "Communications intercepts from the Chesterton front," Tiepolo responded. "Their key orders are sent on the new Tachyon relay, but their less critical communications still go by HPG. Supply orders, messages from soldiers to their homes, transportation requests. We can see where they are gathering, narrow down their targets. That should let you concentrate your forces where they need to be."

    "I expect you to update my strategists daily. Locate their supply lines, their depots," Candace demanded. "If I can cut them off at the knees, their offensive will falter and die before I lose too much."

    "What about Marik?" Kristofur asked.

    "What about them?" She shot him a cold smile. "Anton Marik is the regional commander, all military operations against us go through him, and Anton Marik lives in my pocket."

    "Your father was cultivating him. Will he be loyal to you now instead?" Tiepolo asked.

    "Given Precentor Kristofur was the one holding Anton's lead at the time, what do you think?"

    The Precentor ROM laughed. "So you recognise me."

    "And the good work you do. I value Comstar as my father did. I hope we will have a similar fruitful relationship."

    "I can guarantee it." Kristofur bowed happily.

    "Anton will delay the offensive, misdirect supplies, limit the forces." Candace said confidently. "Any great victories will be attributed to Janos, making him more popular. Anton doesn't want that. I will give him a few small wins to boost his name, he will feed any central Marik forces into a meat grinder I will set up to kill their offensive and weaken Janos' loyal troops before Anton makes his own moves."

    "You will have our full support in this matter." Tiepolo nodded. "And of course, access to any new weapons we make."

    "You will need our factories, even with Terra you can't mass produce enough weapons to counter what the Alliance is going to flood the galaxy with. I bet you've already signed up Kurita, haven't you?"

    "It would be a wise move." Tiepolo appreciated her insight. "We will do what we can to reproduce as much of this technology as possible, then we will give it quietly to the Combine and yourself. I can offer no guarantees, but it should at least prevent you from being overwhelmed in any future war."

    "Good enough." Candace accepted. "If we put Anton where he needs to be and bring the Free Worlds into our camp, then I think the future is looking very promising indeed."
     
    Chapter 23
  • 23

    Earth Alliance Diplomatic Transport Earth Force One.

    Hanse Davion was having a great time. After a few months waving at crowds and being the face of the Sian Raid, at least as far as the Federated Suns were concerned, he was finally able to have some private time to enjoy himself in his own way. While he was still on official duty and due to handle one of the major diplomatic moments of recent years, he had found time to indulge one of his more treasured pastimes. Reading.

    When Earth Force One had picked him up, he had settled in for the month long journey to Cooperland, a fairly lengthy jaunt, even with the more efficient EA jump systems. His destination was the capital of the Alliance, a planet until now shrouded in secrecy. He was greatly looking forward to it, the idea of cracking this mystery reawakening his youthful enthusiasm for discovery. Hanse had always relished knowledge and learning - this was an ideal mission for him.

    Naturally, there was more to it than just his enthusiasm. Ian needed to send someone senior enough to honour his new allies, but also clever enough to return with details on what the Alliance was truly like. Hanse was the obvious choice, and helpfully it would increase his prestige at Court, adding some diplomatic laurels to his reputation. Providing he didn't mess up. of course. As an added bonus, he also had an invitation to Captain John Sheridan's wedding. which he was happy to accept. A little normalcy after all the ceremony was more than welcome.

    For now, though, he read, and with immense satisfaction. He'd found the library on the ship had almost every work of literature up to the mid 2200s, which included pieces thought lost, or things he had only found partial texts of. To read the full length versions of obscure lost poems and verse was incredibly rewarding. It had made the journey pass in the blink of an eye.

    Beside the crew of the ship, Hanse had two other traveling companions. One was Arthur Luvon, Duke of Donegal and husband of Archon Katrina Steiner. His mission was no doubt the same as Hanse's, someone senior but intelligent who was trusted by the ruler of his nation. The third guest was a little less easy to read, Anton Marik. On the surface, he was no different to Hanse and Arthur, but Anton's rocky relationship with his brother Janos wasn't a well kept secret. Hanse had spoken to Anton several times and had found him to be ambitious and prideful, though that wasn't particularly unusual. He was smart enough and senior enough to be here, but he doubted there was much trust from the Captain General.

    Whatever games the Mariks were playing ultimately didn't matter right now. The ship had arrived at its destination an hour or so earlier and now was waiting the presence of President Elizabeth Levy, as part of her final official duty before retirement. Each of the three had been invited to the inauguration of Luis Santiago, the next elected President of the Earth Alliance. It was the standard sort of diplomatic ceremony with the usual opportunity to establish some diplomatic ties with the new guy, determine if he was as friendly to their respective homes as the last one. Most commentary had suggested he was very keen to follow up on the initial contacts created by President Levy. If anything, Santiago was looking to expand them.

    With the Capellans dancing around fighting two invasions, Draconis quietly watching events and trying to work out what they were supposed to do next, and the nearby periphery nations suddenly perking up and paying attention to their new neighbour, the galaxy was undergoing a seismic shift. There was no stopping it now, no containing the changes set in motion. The paradigm was about to be dictated by an influx of technology from the Alliance, civilian and hopefully military, and it would be the group that could amass and utilise that power to its greatest extent that would emerge victorious. Right now, that was the Suns and the Lyrans, and if Ian had his way, they wouldn't be rivals for much longer.

    Hanse had his part to play, small at first, but almost certainly more central as time went on. His brother was relying on him to chart a path for the future. He would not fail.

    He was still content in his book when he observed President Levy enter the lounge he was waiting in, the ruler of this most talked about faction small and frail when seen in person. Perhaps once she had been vibrant and energised, but after the tumultuous presidency she had presided over, it was no surprise she was drained.

    "Prince Hanse." She still managed to summon up a genuine smile from her lined features. "Duke Anton, Duke Arthur. I hope you haven't been waiting too long?"

    "Not at all," Hanse responded warmly. "It has been a great opportunity to catch up on some reading."

    "Likewise," Arthur agreed. "Your early history files are very concise, but there are some unusual omissions from the twenty first century onward."

    "The reason for that will become quite apparent soon," Levy promised. "We'll be making the jump to the heart of our territory shortly, we have a Lagrange point plotted, a pirate point as you'd say, so it will only be an hour or two until you'll be standing on my homeworld."

    "I am very much looking forward to it." Anton Marik stepped forward. "Your origins are the subject of feverish speculation. There's a massive betting pool in Parliament."

    "I can almost guarantee nobody is collecting that money." Levy checked her watch. "Alright, here we go."

    The lounge had a series of large windows to the left and right, sitting at the edge of the rotating disc of Earth Force One. It meant the view outside was constantly shifting as the habitable section spun to mimic gravity, but also incredibly panoramic once a passenger grew used to the motion. That view now altered, the very brief blue flash of a KF hop fading back into black space, now with a lustrous purple nebula off to one side. The background was astonishing attractive, but its impact was quickly lost as the rotating windows brought something far more menacing into view.

    "That is a Nova Class Dreadnought," Levy helpfully narrated, the massively armed ship tracking them for a few moments until it confirmed their IFF signal. "My Generals tell me there is no ship known to man that can stand it's broadside for more than five seconds."

    Looking at the rows of massive cannons, Hanse could believe it.

    "You can see one of our Orion battlestations on the other side, and several cruisers, and some automated satellite heavy weapons platforms," Levy listed off. "We've mapped each potential entry point to our home system and made sure they are protected. Nobody gets in without permission, or if they do they certainly don't leave."

    "That is a lot of security." Arthur Luvon made the obvious comment. "I don't think anything in the Inner Sphere is enough of a threat to necessitate all of this."

    "Perhaps, but we're not in the business of taking risks anymore." Levy shook her head. "Not with our homeworld."

    With their identity confirmed, a mere formality for a ship as well known as Earth Force One, the journey continued. The dreadnought had raised some questions with Hanse, mostly regarding what a ship like that was needed to fight. The Omega destroyers had been formidable. He'd watched the recordings of the battle over Sian dozens of times to better study the weapons on display. He'd considered those ships to be highly effective killers, but here he was now seeing something even more brutal. There was nothing he knew of that could hurt even the smaller ships this Alliance fielded. The dreadnought was obscene overkill. Unless Levy knew something he didn't.

    "You can only see a hint of it, but coming up is Luna and her shipyards." Levy caught his attention again, the windows turning to show a gleaming white moon much like the one over Terra. "At this distance its just a small speck, but up close, it's a sprawling complex of hundreds of construction slips."

    "Hundreds?"

    "Correct. There's another one at Mars even larger, plus a smaller one at Io."

    "Mars and Io?" Arthur raised an eyebrow. "You named the worlds of this system in honour of Terra? Like you kept the name Earth?"

    "Not exactly."

    "Why so many yards?" Anton asked. "With just two or three, you'd have more shipbuilding capacity than the entire Inner Sphere. Hell, a single functional warship facility is more than we have."

    "We need them to build our fleet to sufficient numbers. My generals require at least five thousand ships, though more is better."

    "Five thousand is more than the Star League at its peak," Hanse mentioned carefully.

    "The Star League didn't have to fight the wars we have."

    "Those numbers are absurd." Anton grunted and folded his arms. "You could take every Successor State."

    "But not hold them," Arthur added. "Just ruin them."

    "You are not our enemies. If you were, I wouldn't be hosting you and showing you our secrets."

    "So why are you showing us all this?" Hanse picked up. "To intimidate us?"

    "To be truthful," Levy stated simply. "The Capellans would probably never have provoked us if they had seen what we really have."

    "I wouldn't be so sure." Hanse pondered. "They may have just sought a different method."

    "In any case, the time is right for us to be open." Levy nodded behind them. "We'll be coming up on my homeworld any moment."

    All four of them gazed out of the windows expectantly, even Levy, who had seen this moment many times, still devoted to it her full attention. To her, it was never routine, there was nothing normal about seeing her home in all its radiance. Earth was never anything less than breathtaking, and her obligation to it never less than total.

    The blue sphere hove into view, the rotating action of the ship not making it easy to pick out details all at once. It took a while before realisation started dawning.

    "That looks a lot like North America." Arthur tilted his head to follow the movement of the windows. "And Africa. It's uncanny."

    "It's identical." Hanse had seen Terra in person. It wasn't just pictures and videos to him. "What is the meaning of this, President Levy? Why are we at Terra?"

    "This is Earth, my home, not Terra that you know." Levy kept her eyes on the world. "We are a duplicate, a mirror image of the planet you know here as Terra. We are from what is best described as a sister universe, a different reality separated by possibility. We are here by accident, our whole solar system transplanted to this point in time, space, and reality. We are not your Earth, but it is Earth, the same world from a different version of reality."

    They stood in silence for a long while watching the planet, then Anton Marik scoffed.

    "Do you mock us President Levy?"

    "It is the truth, but I don't expect you just to take my word for it. We will land, you may attend the inauguration, and then for the next few weeks you may go anywhere you wish. Any corner of the planet, anywhere you know, anywhere you have read about. It would be impossible to fake."

    "It's Terra!" Anton waved aside. "I already know Terra!"

    "If it is Terra, how are we here so fast?" Hanse quickly worked out. "Even with enhanced drives Terra is much further out than four weeks."

    "Comstar wouldn't permit Earth Alliance warships to patrol its space," Arthur had to admit. "And that nebula, that's the deep Periphery."

    "It's obviously a trick, this is nonsense!" Anton remained unconvinced. "These windows are projection screens."

    "That is why you can head down to the surface and explore as you see fit," Levy repeated. "Talk to random people, stroll the cities or wilderness, investigate whatever you want. You'll have a shuttle and a staff who will obey your every decision. See it with your own eyes, then tell your governments what you have learned."

    "The relics of Rome?" Hanse asked.

    "If that is your choice." She nodded. "Then try Istanbul, Athens, Giza."

    "What about Unity City?" Arthur raised.

    "You can go to Seattle or Vancouver and see that it doesn't exist."

    "If this is true, then what does it mean for your goals?" Hanse was thinking ahead. "You have no roots here, no ancestral obligations, the Star League has no cultural or personal value. What do you want?"

    "That isn't an easy question to answer, but to try and sum it up. We want to survive," Levy reasoned out. "We are here because of an accident with an experimental technology we were developing as part of our war efforts. That war was with an alien race known as the Minbari, and they were about a week from winning."

    "So Aliens too now?" Anton sighed. "This is the plot to a terrible vid series."

    "I've arranged for some of the aliens stranded on Earth when the incident happened to meet you." Levy half smiled. "That might help open your eyes."

    "You were losing your war then?" Hanse focused in. "Were these Minbari superior warriors?"

    "Their technology was greatly superior to our own, but not their fighting spirit," Levy bristled slightly. "But as I believe recent events have shown, courage alone cannot match massive naval supremacy."

    "How superior?"

    "We averaged between ninety nine and one hundred percent losses in every battle," Levy responded flatly. "On average losses were between fifteen and twenty to one in their favour. We won a single battle, just one, and even then it cost us four ships to their seven."

    "So you are saying these Minbari ships are almost twenty times as powerful as your ships?"

    "Not exactly, strategy and formations count for a lot. But, essentially, yes. The Minbari obliterated every fleet, every army, every defence. They had the goal of exterminating our entire species. We were desperate. That desperation inadvertently brought us here."

    Hanse had been suitably impressed by the Earth Force warships, they were like nothing the Inner Sphere had seen since the catastrophic battles of the First Succession war, maybe not even then. But if Levy was to be believed, those ships were barely speed bumps to this alien race.

    "Is it possible, Madam President, that if you made the journey here, that others might follow you?" Hanse fixed her with a very serious stare. "Could you have brought your enemies with you?"

    "This is the question which has occupied us ever since our arrival, and it is one of the reasons we are building our fleet to the strongest it has ever been, an unprecedented expansion of our armed forces." Levy matched Hanse's seriousness. "My people tell me it is incredibly unlikely, that nothing like this has happened in any recorded history from any contacted species. That it was random chance, that even if the Minbari did recreate the circumstances, there are infinite universes and the chances of them finding this exact one are virtually zero. But not impossible."

    She grimaced at the thought.

    "If they did follow us, we would be the first and only line of defence. We were ready to fight to the death, we were resigned to it. If the Minbari arrive, we will make our stand against them. But there is more than that, we were not a single star system. We had colonies, settlements, territories around dozens of other stars which we left behind. Many of my people wish to return one day, once we have sufficient strength, to liberate those worlds. Or to avenge them."

    "This is quite a lot to take in," Arthur stepped in. "None of this seems believable, but its hard to deny what I can see."

    "Take your time and satisfy your own curiosity. As I said, you can travel freely with your staff." Levy applied no pressure. "I've assigned guides to each of you, who will make sure you see what you need to see. Confirm it with your own eyes."

    "I don't understand what you are trying to do here. It makes no sense." Anton remained highly sceptical. "Why go to all this trouble?"

    "It doesn't make much sense to us either, yet here we are. We can't deny what has happened." Levy had little else to add. "If you don't believe me, so be it. But at least believe that we are an industrious world that would like to work with you, going forward."

    "One that enjoys telling tall tales." Anton sighed. "But, I suppose if your money is good, what does it matter?"

    "Spoken like a true Marik." Arthur chuckled a little. "Well, a free trip is a free trip, I'll take your offer Madam President."

    "As will I." Hanse agreed with the others. "I'll keep an open mind, but you are asking a lot from us. Even if you convince me, very few others will ever believe this."

    "That's their choice. All I can do is let you see us for what we are. After that, it's up to the individual to decide."

    Hanse looked back to the planet, to Earth. It answered a lot of questions, but replaced them with infinitely more. If it was true, it would be the scientific revelation of the millenium, the biggest discovery since faster than light physics. If it wasn't true, then why tell such an obviously ridiculous story? He would take his time, apply his wits and see if he could unravel this tale and find the truth. He didn't know what was worse, that all this was a lie, or that it was the truth.




    A week later.

    Kansas, North American State

    "I now pronounce you man and wife." The Reverend wrapped up with a gigantic genuine grin. "You may now kiss the bride."

    He didn't need much encouragement, the now Mr and Mrs Sheridan locking lips to cheers and applause from the assembled congregation within the small white wooden church. It was difficult to get more small town Americana than this and the assembled friends and family enjoyed every second of it.

    John and Anna walked arm in arm back down the aisle, all smiles and good cheer. Just outside the doorway, a guard of his fellow officers waited to send them on their way, sabres drawn and crossed over their heads, forming a passage of gleaming steel for the Captain and his new wife. Both trotted through the ranks, John thanking them on the way, and proceeded the short distance to the town square, where an open air reception was laid out on wooden tables under the midwest summer sun.

    Most of the town had turned out, which wasn't a huge number of people, given it was mostly a farming community, and while largely outnumbered by the uniformed officers and assorted scientists invited by the newly weds, they knew how to throw a party.

    "This is the most twentieth century, old movie looking place I have ever seen." Michael Garibaldi gazed in awe at the town square. "Did we just hop back to rock and roll days?"

    "Behave." Angela Ginelli punched his arm and pouted at him. "It's nice here."

    "Think they have comsnet access? Or even electricity?" He peered around. "I've never seen so many checkered shirts."

    "Shut up and let's try the Cider." She steered him toward a table. "Ooohh, orange juice."

    He smiled to himself and went along for the ride, eyes scanning the crowd, his old instincts sparking to life. He was military now, but he'd started out in the family business of private security and investigations, and he liked to keep his senses sharp. He noted the naval officers in their dress uniforms, all friends of Captain Sheridan. He noted some assortment of well dressed but slightly out of place persons, scholars and scientists likely tied to Anna Sheridan, which included Ginelli. He spotted plenty of locals, and among them some casual older characters, probably friends of David Sheridan and his wife. And then, grouped at the edges looking around in mild amazement, a small cluster of very different uniforms and those were the ones he kept a watch over.

    He kept his distance as Ginelli began systematically blitzing the ranked plates of snacks, taking a glass of orange juice, and seeing who the outsiders interacted with. For now, they seemed to be captivated by the town, looking at the small shops and services, examining the various trucks and vehicles, sampling the food and drink. To all intents and purposes, they were acting like tourists.

    "Quite the set of uniforms, aren't they?"

    Garibaldi snapped his head around to lock eyes with the man of the moment, John Sheridan, offering an amused nod before following his gaze.

    "That they are sir." Garibaldi relaxed a little. "That starburst pattern, nothing subtle about that."

    "That's Prince Hanse Davion, I figured he'd want to make an impression but, yeah, he's wearing more gold braid than I am at my own wedding."

    "Michael Garibaldi, by the way." He offered a hand. "Here with a friend of your wife."

    "Doctor Ginelli, right?" Sheridan recognised as he shook the hand. "Interesting woman."

    "That don't cover the half of it." Garibaldi laughed before remembering his place. "Sir."

    "Relax Lieutenant, we're off duty." Sheridan waved it off. "Does she ever actually sleep? All I ever saw her do was drink coffee and talk really fast."

    "Pretty much, though two or three times I've seen her sleep standing up."

    "No kidding?"

    "No kidding."

    Sheridan poured himself an orange juice while observing the distant visitors.

    "He's been touring the planet, learning where we came from, what we're doing here."

    "Yeah, I bet he's got a lot of questions."

    "For the love of all that is good and right in the world, don't let them get close to Dr Ginelli," Sheridan quickly requested. "Promise me that."

    "Abso-fraggin-lutely, we do not need to deal with that fallout." Garibaldi took a swig. "We'll both be swabbing floors on Io."

    "His people seem decent enough, better than most of the powers we've met. Maybe we can make something work with them." Sheridan shrugged. "You're with the mech squad right? Testing out those captured machines?"

    "I was, but as I hear it we're about to be made operational," Garibaldi related. "Your little mission convinced them to build a mech strike force. I get to be in it. Yay me."

    "You're not so sure?"

    "I dunno, maybe. I'm just a Ground Pounder." He shrugged. "I just get the idea that, well, you don't build a force like this and then just leave it sitting around. Not with that kind of investment. Whole new branch of the army like that?"

    "I see."

    "Let's just say we're not training for defensive missions."

    Both of them took a silent drink, mulling over their thoughts before Garibaldi piped up again.

    "This is great orange juice, gotta be freshly squeezed."

    "From my own family farm." Sheridan showed some relief at the more pleasant topic. "My mom runs the place, every time I go back, it's just the same. Never changes."

    "Must be nice to have that sort of stability," Garibaldi appreciated, his eyes catching Ginelli balancing a ludicrously overfilled plate. "If you'll excuse me, I see a comedy sketch waiting to happen."

    "Huh? Oh." He saw the same thing. "Well good luck, Mr Garibaldi."

    "Thanks." He moved away. "And hey, congratulations. She's a good catch."

    "That she is." Sheridan raised a parting glass to the mech pilot before deciding to go see how his guests were handling things. He made his way over to the Inner Sphere representatives, noting his father had decided the same thing at the same time. Both intercepted the group simultaneously and were greeted warmly.

    "Mr Sheridan, and Mr Sheridan." Hanse inclined his head. "Congratulations to you, Captain. A wonderful service, very heartfelt."

    "Thank you highness, my dad arranged it all, that's where the credit belongs."

    "Must be a little different to where you usually go for weddings?" David guessed with a jovial arched eyebrow. "I bet this whole town could fit inside one of your cathedrals."

    "Maybe so, but I think I prefer this. Sometimes a ceremony can lose its meaning, but not here." Hanse sipped some of his champagne. "This is your hometown?"

    "That's right."

    "Sic Parvis Magna," the Prince recited.

    "Great things from small beginnings," David translated the Latin. "Often the truth."

    "This town is a wonderful place, Captain." The second of Sheridan's guests spoke, Colonel Jaime Wolf. Much like Hanse Jaime, Joshua and Natasha Kerensky had been invited to the wedding as personal friends of the Captain. There had been some back and forth with the security service, but ultimately if Earth was opening up to the Inner Sphere, at least to a degree, then they needed to welcome more than just a few nobles. "I think I can understand more about you, that earnest boy scout aura you carry with you."

    "I was raised right." He nudged his father and shared a laugh.

    "So I see." Jaime nodded. "This is a good place to belong to, a place well worth fighting for."

    "To hearth and home." Hanse raised his glass. "And love eternal."

    The group joined the toast, drinking from their glasses and reflecting for a moment on the words. Some perhaps more than others.

    "How have you all found Earth?" David raised a new topic. "It must be a bit of a culture shock."

    "I'm not going to pretend to understand the science, tachyons and whatever." Jaime frowned. "But I never thought I'd set foot on Terra, or Earth, or... well, I'm glad to be here. It's like stepping back in time to when we were still new to the stars."

    "Rome was beautiful, untouched in its history," Hanse appreciated. "Venice, Florence, Milan. I regret I only have a few weeks here."

    "Nothing stopping you returning," John suggested.

    "Affairs of state Captain, I have a planet to run soon, a campaign to support, a brother to stand beside. But this has helped my perspective. This simple town is so much like those scattered across my stars, though they still have many hardships. I want them to be like your home, captain, so they too may produce great warriors and wise statesmen. You have given me inspiration, and for that I thank you."

    "What about you Colonel?" David switched targets. "You must have leave built up?"

    "No rest for the wicked," Natasha jumped in with enthusiasm. "Did you hear who hired us?"

    "Candace Liao." Jaime cleared his throat. "Oh I know, I know. I'm as surprised as you are. Apparently no hard feelings over us stomping on her house."

    "I find that hard to believe," John expressed some caution. "Is it a trap?"

    "Maybe, but I don't think so." Jaime shook his head. "It's common for mercenary units to work for people we were just shooting at. She's put the blame on her old man, acknowledged we were just doing our job, and was impressed by our performance."

    "She knows quality when she sees it." Natasha seemed pleased enough.

    "I still think you should renew your contract with us," Hanse recommended. "You know where you stand."

    "We respect that, but our goal has always been to travel the galaxy, see how everyone else does things," Jaime politely refused. "But who knows? Give it a few years and we might be back."

    "Though we did also sign a contract with President Santiago," Joshua cut in. "To provide some training units, a company on rotation to drill your new mech forces."

    "That right?" John spotted Garibaldi in the distance. "That'll be fun for them."

    "I also want to put you in touch with a man called Cranston Snord." Jaime raised. "Crazy sort of guy, got dropped as a baby one too many times I think, but he's a damn good mechwarrior and his small gang might be a good long term prospect to help you out."

    "Crazy as a bag of monkeys," Joshua agreed. "But yeah, he knows his stuff and won't sell you out."

    As they considered the future, they were ultimately joined by Anna Sheridan, radiant in an elegant white dress. She hadn't stopped smiling yet, a marked contrast to the dour young woman in uniform arriving beside her.

    "John, there you are. Not talking business again, are you?"

    "Just catching up with some friends. Prince Hanse, Colonel Jaime Wolf, Major Joshua Wolf, Captain Natasha Kerensky."

    "Ah yes, I've heard a lot." She shook hands with each, Hanse planting a kiss on her hand in the ancient style. "I've never met a prince before, you're certainly living up to the stereotype."

    "Enchanted, Mrs Sheridan." Hanse bowed slightly. "You make a fine match. You are a scientist, I understand?"

    "Xenoarcheologist," she confirmed. "We dig up old technology, see if it still works."

    "That so?" Joshua raised an eyebrow. "Snord is definitely the man for this job."

    "Snord?"

    "I can fill you in later," Sheridan said, a small snicker escaping Natasha. "Business stuff."

    "Right," she moved on. "Have you met Susan? Lieutenant Ivanova?"

    "Captain," the inexpressive officer nodded. "I'm here with the Prince."

    "Oh?" John gave Hanse a half smile.

    "My guide, Captain." Hanse quickly shot down any other hints. "The Lieutenant has been extremely helpful, indulging my passion for old history and literature."

    "Yes. For the last two weeks," she said flatly, before brightening a bit. "But it did bring me here. Thank you for making the space, Captain. Not everyday I get to meet a genuine hero."

    "I'm nothing special, just doing my job."

    "Don't be so modest." Anna grabbed his arm. "Did he tell you about the Black Star? How he took a crippled ship and destroyed the flagship of the Minbari Navy? And then her escorts when they came looking for her?"

    "Really now?" Hanse regarded the Captain. "No, he kept that quiet."

    "Way I hear it your fleet only had one real win in that war, and it was you?" Jaime smiled. "And their flagship, too? How?"

    "Short version, nukes," he answered. "Long version, a lot of nukes."

    Jaime snorted a laugh. "Well, that'll do it."

    "I can't really imagine fighting in such a war. So much destruction, with no chance to meaningfully retaliate." Hanse grimaced. "Perhaps it was the same for our ancestors in the last great wars."

    "Maybe so," Jaime agreed. "Let's try not to find out."

    "Would you care to join me on a visit to Scotland, Colonel?" Hanse inquired. "I plan to see if I can find some relatives. After a fashion."

    "I'd like to see more, but we need to be going soon," Jaime apologised. "We lost over a quarter of our people lately. It's time we resupplied."

    "Yeah, before we go break bread with Candace Fu- Fragging Liao." Natasha forced a smile. "Make sure we're ready in case she tries to murder us."

    "A pity," Hanse sighed. "Just us then, Lieutenant Ivanova."

    "Yeah. Looks like." She summoned zero enthusiasm.

    "Maybe not though," Anna leaned in. "Just about every single woman at this party has done nothing but ask about you."

    "That so?" He glanced around the crowd. "Well, that might be an interesting bit of adventure."

    "While you work on that, John has to get ready for the speeches." Anna began steering him away. "And I'll be tossing the bouquet soon. Good luck!"

    "What does that mean?" Natasha asked. "Tossing the flowers?"

    "No idea." Jaime shrugged. "Test of strength?"

    "Old tradition." Hanse explained for them. "The bride throws her bouquet and whichever girl catches it is the next one to find a husband."

    "Really?" Natasha watched Anna go. "Does it work?"

    "I don't know, maybe try it and find out?"

    "I will." She began to stride off, filled with purpose.

    "I... I honestly don't think..." Joshua jogged up beside her. "I mean marriage?"

    "Who said it would be you?" She gave him a grin and set her course, Joshua glancing back at his brother, who just raised his glass.

    "Sure I can't convince you to stay with us?" Hanse and Jaime stood alone now at the side of the group.

    "Sorry Highness, I like you guys, but we all have a job to do."

    "I see." Hanse continued to watch the crowd. "Do you think it's all true?"

    "If it was a lie, it wouldn't be this wild," Jaime acknowledged. "Besides, you met those aliens, right?"

    "That could be faked."

    "Recreating the entire planet? Just duplicating Terra and faxing it to the ass end of nowhere?"

    "Eliminate the impossible and whatever remains, however improbable..." Hanse trailed off. "But if that's true, then the Minbari are also true."

    "Yeah. That's going to put things into perspective," Jaime agreed. "We'd all be targets to them. I doubt they'd distinguish between this Earth and Terra. Or any of the rest of us."

    "So what do we do about it? About that possibility?"

    "I'm just a humble mercenary. That's a job for the great lords to figure out."

    "Then I suppose we better pray it never happens," Hanse spoke simply. "Or we're all dead."

    At the centre of the party Anna took her position, turned her back to the gathering of single women, and prepared to throw her bouquet up and over her head. Most were keenly aware of the prince in attendance, by all accounts a fabulously wealthy man who lived in an actual castle, like a real fairy tale. The fact he was dashingly handsome just made the competition even more fierce.

    They were however also facing Natasha Kerensky, a woman not known for losing, and Angela Ginelli, a woman with more energy than a supernova. As Anna prepared, Natasha cracked her knuckles, beside her Ginelli chugged two full cans of energy drinks she'd smuggled in for this moment.

    "Better get a suit picked Mikey!" She shouted over at Garibaldi. "This is going down!"

    "Get in front of me and it's your funeral." Natasha steeled her gaze.

    "Try me, red." Ginelli wasn't intimidated. Off to the side, Garibaldi and Joshua stood side by side, terrified of what was about to happen.

    "Ready?" Anna called back. "Go!"

    She lofted the flowers with the sort of swing unexpected from a scientist. It sailed clean over the crowd and fell into the lap of the young Lieutenant Ivanova as she sat at a distant table, demolishing a small sandwich. She looked at the prize and tossed it onto the table with a grunt.

    "Like hell."

    Five seconds later, all out war commenced as the table was swamped with slightly drunk people who really should have known better.

    "So, what next Mrs Sheridan?" John wrapped his arm around his new wife. "Any plans?"

    "Well, there is a standard procedure to follow on a wedding night," she spoke softly. "I'm expecting you to uphold tradition."

    "I mean after that, after the honeymoon too."

    "I don't know, I'll keep excavating Cooperland. I guess now we're opening the doors, IPX will start getting work across the Inner Sphere."

    "I heard the old Star League buried stockpiles of weapons across the galaxy. They keep getting dug up. Probably worth a fortune."

    "Then that's definitely where IPX will be," Anna huffed. "Follow the money."

    "We've confirmed peace with the Capellans, hopefully that means it'll be quiet now."

    "You believe that?"

    He spotted Garibaldi struggling to keep the ultra caffeinated scientist he was dating from climbing over several slower women. Sheridan recalled Garibaldi's concerns, that Earth was building up its power for the purpose of exercising it.

    "I don't know. I hope so."

    "Me too." She leaned into him. "IPX is starting a survey on Mars, ground scans of the deserts, maybe I'll transfer there."

    "You'd be bored in half a day." He grinned. "Stick with Cooperland, maybe we should get a house there? Looks like a nice place."

    "I think I'd like that." She leaned back in his arms. "Come on, dancing time."

    "You know I can't..."

    "Tradition." She cut him off. "Come on, enjoy tonight and let the future come tomorrow."

    She leaned in again.

    "Whatever it brings."
     
    Interlude
  • A very long way away

    It had taken years for local hyperspace to clear, years for the storms to subside, the barriers to fade, the old routes to stabilise. Even then with the environment restored, the scouts had to lay fresh beacons from Proxima to the location of Earth. Or, at least, where it used to be.

    Initial observations had been hard to believe. A cloud of tachyons a quarter light year in diameter had erupted, as if from nowhere, with zero indication anything was amiss. The technicians of the Worker Caste had at first refused to believe what they were seeing. Their final conclusion was that it appeared hyperspace had been folded inside out and dumped several minutes worth of energies into real space where Earth would be.

    How exactly that could happen remained unknown, but what was known was the fact that some kind of massive hyperspace inversion would be absolutely catastrophic for anything within its bounds. The disruption meant tachyon based sensors were useless, so the scouting forces had instead jumped about a light-year from Earth and waited a year to see what exactly had happened. It hadn't helped. The region had simply vanished in a haze of redshifted energy, which had revealed empty space once it receded. Everything was just gone.

    The main body of the Minbari fleet had been assembling at Proxima for its final push on Earth. When the incident happened, it had not only blocked hyperspace travel to the Sol system, it had also massively disrupted all of hyperspace for a dozen light-years around it. For eighteen months, the battlegroup had been stuck at Proxima, unable to go onward or return home. They had to simply wait and hope the storms would clear. It took another year before they could risk moving toward Sol itself, but now, finally, they could see in person what had occurred.

    "I am still not convinced this is wise." Alyt Neroon shifted his weight subtly as he addressed his concerns. "Bringing the Grey Council here is an unnecessary risk."

    "Our leaders wish to see this for themselves." Shai Alyt Branmer, overall commander of the Minbari military, remained calm. "Once they have decided, it is pointless to try and change their minds. What does the perimeter look like?"

    "Heavily defended." Neroon at least could take pride in that. "Warships are stationed at set positions. If there is an ambush of any kind, we will be ready."

    "They will be here soon." Branmer turned casually peering into the holographic curtain displaying space around his flagship. "There really is nothing left here."

    "No ships, no asteroids, no random debris," Neroon confirmed. "Even trace gasses are depleted. It is as if this entire pocket of the universe were snatched away."

    "That is a power far beyond our means." The older commander grimaced. "I shall be fascinated to know what happened here."

    "I doubt we would find much comfort in the answers, Shai Alyt."

    The vista twinkled, the spot of light expanding to form a jump point, from which the tall green tinged hull of the Valen'tha emerged. The ancient ship was the only vessel in the fleet to have a very faint green hue to her crystal hull, a sign that instead of being made of synthetic grown crystal, she had been hewn from the cliffs of Tuzenore itself. She had once carried Valen to Z'ha'dum to end the last great war and now, steadily modernised, she stood at the finale of this war.

    "Shai Alyt." A voice echoed through the isolated command chamber. "The Council requires your presence."

    "I obey," he answered. "Assume command Neroon. Hold the perimeter and contact me immediately if you detect anything unusual."

    "As you order master."

    "There is still something wrong here, something disassociated with the rest of the universe. Be cautious."

    The commander turned and departed, content that his student was more than able to handle any surprises or threats as they appeared. His task would be more difficult, to stand before a divided Council and try to help them decide what would happen next.



    "Shai Alyt Branmer. We welcome you."

    "Summoned, I come." The bearded warrior bowed his head. He was no stranger to the council chamber, the dark room where the nine rulers of Minbari stood in a circle around him. Each had their own point of light, while he stood in between them all. It was presumably meant to be intimidating, but Branmer was unconcerned, he was too old for such games.

    "Have you determined what has happened to the human homeworld yet?"

    The Council tended to be robed in grey with heads covered, but as this was more of a fact finding mission, most had their faces showing. Jenimer, as usual, took the lead. As the longest serving member of the council, he had stepped in as temporary leader until a true successor to Dukhat could be decided.

    "We have not," Branmer replied. "We know for certain there was no trickery. We stand right now where their homeworld should be. We have cross referenced the location with all known methods. This is unquestionably where the human home star was located."

    "So where is it?" Satai Morann demanded. Representing the Windsword Clan, Morann was among the most belligerent of Minbari and a strong advocate for genocide. Branmer had serious reservations about the man, but maintained his calm demeanour.

    "The scientific researchers of the Worker Caste believe that the humans were experimenting with a device designed to disrupt hyperspace. Such a device would prevent us travelling to their homeworld. It did work. It has taken all this time for the paths to calm enough for passage, but it appears there was an unexpected complication."

    "This complication, it was enough to destroy the entire star system?" Satai Coplann shook his head in disbelief. Coplann was from the Star Riders clan, the same as Branmer and Neroon, and like Branmer, his support for continuing this war had wavered considerably.

    "Not destroy. We have found no debris, no indications of ruin or destruction," Branmer answered. "Our current hypothesis is that there was a hyperspace incursion. In other words, the separation between real space and hyperspace dissolved for a few minutes. That caused everything in this region to enter hyperspace."

    The Council was silent for a moment as they weighed up the depth of that possibility.

    "If that was true, then their whole star system, their sun, every planet, every ship..." Satai Delenn closed her eyes in pain. "All lost forever."

    "That would be the case." Branmer nodded. "Everything has been moved, taken from this place by whatever event caused the tachyon burst. It wasn't destroyed, at least not here, but I cannot imagine anything surviving such an occurrence."

    "Are you certain this is what happened here?"

    "No, we still do not understand what could cause this, and without that knowledge there is no certainty," Branmer qualified. "But we can look at the results. Earth is gone, everything here is gone. Whatever happened was catastrophic beyond understanding. Even at the height of the great Shadow Wars, there is no record of an entire star system being swallowed up like this, with nothing left behind."

    "So after all that, the humans killed themselves," Jenimer sighed. "I see no other answer."

    "Not all are dead," Morann stated darkly. "Yet."

    "I must ask then." Branmer took the moment. "What are your orders for our fleets and armies?"

    "We are debating that still," Jenimer gave the answer. "Return to your vessel, Shai Alyt. You will have our answer in time."



    After two whole days, no answer was as yet forthcoming. The warships held their position, the main fleet still waiting at Proxima, to determine what happened next. While Earth was gone, there were still plenty of humans left, those on occupied colonies seized by the Minbari, and those on worlds as yet undiscovered. Based on pre-war information, Branmer knew they were only about halfway through Human space. There were still several colonies between Earth and the League border, including at least two or three large self sufficient planets with at least a decent shipyard each. The war had paused, but not ended.

    "The Council are wasting our time," Neroon snarled. "And they have us waiting here, right in the heart of whatever disaster befell our enemies."

    "That is true," Branmer agreed.

    "If it happens again, it will be all of us who are thrown into oblivion."

    "I do not think we need worry about that. If the humans were meddling in science beyond their understanding, then we have nothing to fear."

    "Perhaps they were not. It may be that what happened to them was not of their own doing."

    "How do you mean?" Branmer studied his protege. "An outside force?"

    "Someone who would have power beyond our knowledge. Perhaps Vorlons, perhaps Shadows."

    "I cannot say it is impossible," Branmer had to agree. "But to what end? Why cast away an entire star system?"

    "Because they can? As a test for the war that is soon to befall us if Valen was right."

    "Do you believe in prophecy, Neroon?"

    "No, at least I never did until we arrived here." The younger warrior tightened his jaw. "But now, with this, perhaps there really are things so far beyond us, we will never comprehend them."

    The dark room's peace was interrupted by a chime, a sound of warning that brought both men to alert.

    "A jump point," Neroon pointed. "There!"

    "Cruiser Enfili, activity in your sector." Branmer set instantly to his duty. "Intercept any inbound craft!"

    A single vessel emerged from the point, the grey blocky square shape of a human craft. It was small, the ship immediately banking away and going to full power as it saw the massive warcruiser bearing down on it.

    "Enfili, fire to disable," Branmer ordered. "Do not destroy that vessel, I want it intact."

    "Shai Alyt?" Neroon frowned. "We have instructions to take no prisoners."

    "Today we do." The fleet commander spoke simply. "Enfili, when you have completed the task, send all prisoners to this vessel."

    He watched with satisfaction as the cruiser easily ran down the human ship, a few desperate pulse cannon shots sailing past the vessel before it responded with EMP weaponry. It didn't take long to shut the Earth Force vessel down.

    "A scout?" Neroon wondered.

    "Hermes class," Branmer nodded. "Light transport, the smallest ship they have with a jump drive. I want to ask them about this place. If our investigation can tell us no more, perhaps we should simply ask the source?"



    It took a few hours for the human ship to be secured, all under the eyes of the Grey Council, who chose not to interfere, perhaps seeing Branmer's wisdom. The ship had few crew to begin with and most were easily dealt with, the warriors pumping gas into the ship before clearing the vessel room by room, corridor by corridor. Armed resistance was put down, anyone else was taken alive as instructed, netting Branmer twenty people. It was a good enough start.

    "The first prisoner Shai Alyt." A hard faced warrior dragged a grimy looking human into the middle of his command chamber and threw the figure before him. "This one appears to be the most senior survivor."

    "Thank you," Branmer inclined his head. "I shall call you when I am done."

    The warrior bowed and left, Branmer and Neroon both studying their enemy in person for the first time. She was a female and wore the blue uniform of Earth Force. Her face was bloodied from the brief combat, but still displayed her youth. He wasn't experienced enough with humans to judge age, but she was clearly on the younger end of the scale.

    "Can you understand me?" Branmer spoke clearly and slowly in English. "I have studied your words, do you understand me?"

    The human looked up at him, absolute defiance in her features.

    "Sakai, Catherine, Lieutenant. KG five seven four, three nine nine."

    "Do you understand then?"

    "Sakai, Catherine, Lieutenant. KG five seven four, three nine nine."

    Branmer looked over to Neroon who had little to offer. While Branmer had devoted time to studying his enemy, Neroon had not considered it necessary. At least nothing more than weak points and combat tactics.

    "We have questions."

    "Sakai, Catherine, Lieutenant. KG five seven four, three nine nine."

    "I do not understand this. Is it your name? Sakai?"

    "Does she mean Satai?" Neroon grunted. "She mocks us. These humans are worthless savages."

    "Strong words from murderers," Catherine Sakai responded in clear Adrenato, the language of the Religious caste. "We're not the ones on a mission of genocide."

    Neroon made to lunge forward, but Branmer halted him with a gesture, his expression amused.

    "You have a slight accent, but I commend your pronunciation."

    "Know your enemy." Sakai stood straight. "Your English is fair, I suppose you had the same idea?"

    "I did. You have an interesting history. I applaud your war with the Dilgar. It was a noble effort in defence of life."

    "I don't accept compliments from mass murderers."

    "I am a warrior," Branmer replied simply. "I have killed hundreds of thousands of your people, but this is war, and I only kill those who carry weapons. Never civilians."

    "Not yet maybe, but you will. You want us all dead."

    "Want? No. But I have my orders. I must obey."

    "If you say so." She dismissed. "Is this the torture part now?"

    "No torture, it is not my way." Branmer shook his head. "I want to know where your homeworld is. What happened to Earth?"

    "I don't know." Sakai shrugged her shoulders. "Anything else? Can I go?"

    "Does the concept of being a prisoner not exist for you?"

    "Well, you didn't tie me up, my hands are free." She waved her hands to make the point.

    "There is no need, if you tried to attack me, Neroon would snap your neck before you made it one step."

    She glanced over to the broad shouldered warrior who gave her a sharkish smile in turn.

    "So I ask again." Branmer drew her attention back to him. "Where is your planet?"

    She looked to both Minbari, a frown crossing her face.

    "You don't know either."

    Branmer and Neroon shared a quick look, Branmer catching the meaning immediately.

    "Either? So you also do not know?"

    "Sakai, Catherine, Lieutenant. KG five seven four, three nine nine."

    "That is why you are here! Isn't it?" Branmer grinned and circled, his mind sorting the puzzle. "You are a survey ship, small but I will bet we find it is packed with scientific equipment. You had to wait for hyperspace to calm as we did, but you had to travel further so you arrived after us."

    She gave no answer.

    "You don't know, so it wasn't a plan, it wasn't a strategy. Either it was a secret project only a few knew about, or it was some outside power." Branmer acknowledged Neroon's theory. "But you don't know."

    "Or it is a bluff, a sacrifice to stop us looking deeper," Neroon advised. "It is not impossible."

    "My aide is correct," Branmer accepted. "And even if he is not, we remain at war. After we are done here, we will begin our advance once again and attack the rest of your worlds."

    "We will be waiting for you."

    "Yes." Branmer regarded the young human. "Why?"

    "Why what?"

    "Why fight on? It is inevitable. You cannot possibly defeat us. Your homeworld is gone, your fleet almost broken, your last few worlds will not be a challenge. What is the point?"

    "Because it is not our way to go gently into that good night." Catherine Sakai said proudly, staring into the eyes of the leader of the Minbari war machine. "Because if we die, at least we'll take some of you with us."

    "Is that all then? Spite?"

    "You'll never understand." She shook her head. "I used to date a man who was much better with words than me. He read a lot, studied old poems, the words of ancient warriors. I've been thinking about it a lot. There was one, a long one, I only remember a bit of it but it was enough for me."

    She didn't shift her gaze as she continued to speak.

    To every man upon this earth
    Death cometh soon or late.
    And how can man die better
    Than facing fearful odds,
    For the ashes of his fathers,
    And the temples of his gods


    "My world might be ashes, and by the time you're done, maybe all humanity will be the same. But I'll still fight for it. If I'm alone against the whole universe, I'll fight for the ashes of my brothers and sisters. And I'll die clawing at your eyes with your blood under my nails."

    The two Minbari watched her intently for a long moment of silence before Branmer eventually nodded.

    "I look forward to seeing your fighting spirit, Sakai Catherine. Guard, return her to her cell. Bring me the next."

    They waited as she was led away, Neroon stepping up beside his commander.

    "They still have a vicious streak."

    "Courage was never their failure. They may not have the honour of a true warrior, but I admire their spirit. The important thing is they don't know what happened here."

    "Perhaps, but we still have a job to do."

    "That will be for the Council to decide."

    "They've had years. I can't see anything changing now."




    "What is there to debate?" Morann snapped. "We have been over this ground a hundred times! There are no new arguments, nothing else to discuss! The war goes on!"

    "There are always new arguments!" Delenn fired back passionately. "The human homeworld is gone!"

    "That just makes the rest of our mission far easier!" The warrior spat. "We finish the colonies as we should have done years ago, instead of delaying!"

    "Enough, you will calm yourselves." Jenimer stepped in, laying down some authority. "Remember where you stand. You profane the ground Valen walked upon with your disrespect."

    "Apologies." Delenn stepped back and lowered her head. Morann just grunted and turned aside.

    "Circumstances have changed, we cannot deny it." Coplann took over, more calm and even voiced. "But has our mission changed?"

    "Kill them all." Morann recited. "That was the directive we voted on, the decision of our people."

    "A choice made in passion and fury." Rathenn of the Religious Caste reminded. "Since then, our people have grown weary of slaughter, saddened by this war. If we go on, how can we look at ourselves?"

    "We would have done our duty," Morann answered simply. "Which is all that matters."

    "These new circumstances are troubling," Coplann pressed on. "Branmer has interrogated several humans. They have no knowledge of what transpired with their homeworld."

    "We should confirm they are not lying with telepaths," Jenimer recommended. "We have some aboard."

    "If true, that suggests there was outside interference," Coplann mused.

    "Or their leaders simply did not inform junior warriors of their intentions," Morann countered. "Either way, it doesn't matter. Either their own foolishness destroyed them, or some great force aided our mission. Does that not make us right?"

    "It depends upon the purpose of that force," Delenn cautioned. "Dukhat believed the humans had a purpose in the future. We must try to follow his wisdom."

    "His wisdom led us into the path of human guns in the first place," Morann sneered, quickly shrinking back as the entire Council glared at him. "We must trust our own wisdom, not the wishes of a dead man."

    "We still follow the words of Valen do we not?" Durlan of the Workers pointed out.

    "Valen's death has never been confirmed," Rathenn reminded them of the story. "But we are being distracted. Our enemy has taken a grievous loss. Is that sufficient to declare the matter concluded?"

    "It is more than enough." Delenn spoke plainly. "We must stop."

    "We will stop when we are done." Morann held firm. "To the death."

    The Council was so focused on the debate, it took a moment to register they were not now alone. Silently, they were joined by someone most unexpected, a broad shape emerging from the darkness of the chamber and into the light at the centre of the circle. It stood for a while until its presence was fully appreciated, until it had the undivided attention of the entire meeting. Only then did it speak in chorus.

    "The war is over."

    And then it turned and began to leave.

    "Wait, wait!" Morann found his voice. "It is over?"

    "Morann!" Jenimer growled, actual anger in his voice. "Mind your words!"

    "Why? Because somebody has brought a fake Vorlon?"

    "He is not a fake." Delenn sounded genuinely afraid. "He was a companion of Dukhat, he is real!"

    The Vorlon stopped at the edge of the circle, turning its encounter suit a little, its voice otherworldly.

    "The humans are needed. Preserve them."

    "Needed for what?" Morann demanded, but he received no answer.

    "The matter is closed. The war ends." Jenimer declared simply. "Tell Branmer to return the humans to their ship. Is the human government still offering surrender?"

    "It is." Delenn confirmed.

    "Then we accept it."

    "No!" Morann spoke in absolute disbelief. "It isn't over!"

    "Yes, it is. The Vorlons have wisdom far beyond us. If they say the humans must be preserved, so they will be."

    "This is absurd! You change the course of our people based on a few words from an alien!"

    "From a Vorlon, our oldest guides and allies," Jenimer corrected. "We will tell our people the loss of the human homeworld is sufficient retribution."

    "But how do we proceed?" Coplann wondered. "The human military is broken at our hands. If the Narn or Centauri choose to invade, they will succeed."

    "Then we must defend them." Delenn determined. "Until the words of the Vorlons become more clear."

    "This is beyond insane!" Morann yelled at nothing. "The Vorlons do not decide our path!"

    "The Vorlons have always guided us true. They brought us Valen, they showed us how to win in the last great war against the Shadows." Jenimer put his foot down. "We will follow their words. One day, their value will become clear."

    "This Council has become a joke." The warrior snarled. "We have failed to lead our people. You do not deserve to stand in this circle."

    "The matter is closed." Jenimer repeated. "The war is over, now we must decide how to deal with what remains of humanity."
     
    Chapter 24
  • Chapter 24.

    This is the Interstellar Network News, broadcasting live from Geneva, across the Earth Alliance and to our affiliates across the Inner Sphere. Your headlines for today, March the twenty first 2253, or 3012 by the local calendar.

    "Good evening, I'm Jane Egan, with tonight's top stories across human space. Earlier today, President Luis Santiago declared space station Babylon Three fully operational. The space station, constructed in neutral territory provided by the Lyran Commonwealth near Terra, is the largest object ever constructed and a marvel of human engineering and perseverance.

    "After the loss of Babylon Prime to an industrial accident, and Babylon Two to sabotage by unknown parties, there was growing opposition to continuing to create such a large and expensive station for the purposes of trade and diplomacy. With the completion of Babylon Three, former President Elizabeth Levy's belief in creating a forum for the galaxy appears to have been realised.

    "Babylon Three will be officially opened for business later this year."

    "In the Lyran Commonwealth, the first new shipyard to be built in over a century was commissioned by Archon Katrina Steiner. This joint venture between House Steiner's industrial holdings and Krausse Breguet is being hailed as the first successful partnership between Alliance and Commonwealth corporations.

    The civilian yard is fully automated and will create a new range of jumpships capable of greatly exceeding previous weight limitations. The first ship, the Alessandro Steiner, will transport chemical fertilisers from the core Lyran worlds to frontier farms in order to boost agricultural production."

    "Tensions have increased among Periphery nations in the galactic south. The Taurian Concordat and Magistracy of Canopus are currently disputing what action to take regarding a series of raids against the Aurigan Coalition. Lord Arano of Auriga has been accusing the Taurians of attempting to destabilise his nation, an accusation vehemently denied by Taurian Protector Zarantha Calderon.

    Lord Arano has since requested assistance from his neighbours to discover the truth of these raids. The Alliance Foreign Office has agreed to send an Ambassador at large to help mediate this potential flash point."

    "Closer to home, an Earth Force munitions ship has crashed on Mars. The vessel impacted in the deserts of Syria Planum on the Tharsis plain, away from any settlements. While Earth Force has confirmed no lives have been lost, the vessel was stated to be carrying nuclear munitions and there is a severe danger to life.

    Syria planum is now under strict military quarantine until all radioactive material can be cleaned up and any munitions secured. Access by crawler is restricted and any aircraft or ships in orbit must divert or be intercepted. Earth Force expects the recovery to take two to three months."

    "In sports, the Brooklyn Dodgers have lost their latest game against the Chicago Cubs. The Cubs go on to face either the Yokohama Hawks or the Vancouver Chippers in the next playoffs.

    We'll have more from across the galaxy, including Dan Randall's exclusive report on the rebuilding of Sian, after these messages."



    "Red Squad, Jade Squad, accelerate to combat speed." Major Kenichi Akamatsu took a few steady breaths to center himself, to focus his mind on the task ahead. He could not afford to fail. "Execute attack pattern."

    With a kick, the Aerospace fighter accelerated, his body adjusting after an instant of dizziness. The improved engines were a notable improvement over the models he had flown in the past. Hopefully, it would be enough to keep him alive.

    "Target set, Omega Destroyer at zero three zero." He tapped a few controls on his flight computer. "Jade Squad, focus your attacks on the engines. Red Squad, we're going for the weapons."

    At this range, the target was just a tiny grey smudge reflecting the local sunlight. It was about to get a lot bigger. He checked his status screen revealing his twelve fighters were all in the green, the large unit a reaction to the large Earth Force squadrons.

    "Keep your spacing and prepare for acceleration. Remember, your targeting computer wasn't designed to handle approach velocities this high. Deploy weapons manually and do not fuck this up."

    He pointed the nose of his craft at the distant warship, his radar giving him the blocky outline with the distinctive rotating habitat block. It was an ugly ship, but he appreciated its functionality and its raw destructive power. Both fighter units were closing from opposite directions to split the enemy fire, timing was critical.

    "Standby for emergency acceleration, you cannot turn at this speed, so line up on target now," Akamatsu spoke sternly. "The Dragon has invested too much into your training to watch you pancake into the side of a warship! No mistakes, maximum throttle in three, two, one, go!"

    This kick was much stronger, the fighter going to war emergency throttle, dumping its considerable energy reserves into the thrusters. The Sabre was a lightweight fighter and very swift in its standard model. The improved version took that quality up a level, turning it into the fastest fighter anywhere in the Inner Sphere. It took considerable skill to handle such a vehicle. Fortunately, the Draconis Combine had always placed a lot of effort into its pilot schools.

    Akamatsu focused entirely on the job at hand, fighting the G forces and keeping his eyes on the target and his information displays. All systems were still green, fuel consumption was alarming, but it was only going to be for a few seconds. Ahead, the grey block of the Omega began to approach very rapidly and in that moment as he watched, the ship opened fire, tiny flashes of sparkling light showing the turrets engaging.

    He was committed now. There was no turning back, no altering course, speed was his only defence. He was at the front of the attack, so he couldn't see what was happening behind him. His only clue was the status readouts on his squadron going from green to red as fighters were knocked down. He could do nothing about that. It was all in the hands of fate, all he could do was arm the torpedo slung under the Sabre and wait for the moment.

    It arrived fast, quicker than he expected, but his reactions were adequate to the task. The fighter jolted as the torpedo detached and accelerated away, the Sabre streaking over the forward hull of the Omega, just metres clear of the grey mass. Any evasive action would be pointless at this acceleration, he just blazed past and hoped the ship would be too busy burning to shoot at him. Fortunately, he seemed to be right.

    "Already, Red Squad, Jade Squad, braking manoeuvres and form back up. Exercise complete." He flipped his fighter and cut thrust to see the rest of his squadron scattered behind him. "Those who survived are invited to drinks this evening, those who did not will have simulator time. Position yourself in the blindspots next run!"

    It took another half hour before the fighter groups returned to their carrier, the long hulled Vengeance class DropShip Akagi. The airwing was a mixture of Sabres and Rapiers, common designs, but greatly enhanced these last few years. Akamatsu's unit had been putting the enhanced designs through their paces for the last year, tweaking the performance here and there, developing new tactics, finding the limits of both the machines and the pilots. By this point, they were ready to go operational.

    Today's exercise was the culmination of those experiments. The end goal of the entire project, an effective weapon against the warships of the Earth Alliance. Everyone in the Draconis military, from the Coordinator down, was acutely aware that if Earth Force put a destroyer group over Luthien as it had Sian, there was little to be done about it. Of course, publicly, the Combine loudly announced its aerospace units were far superior to the Capellans, that its planetary defences were mightier and such a defeat would never occur here. Privately, the Dragon had dumped as much treasure as it could afford into vastly improving its fighter wings.

    In an ideal world, the Dragon's response would have been to field warships of their own once again, but that was far easier said than done. They could not wait to relearn how to make such titans, they needed an immediate solution to the threat of Earth Force and it had fallen to the aerospace divisions to deliver it.

    Several senior officers were aboard the Akagi watching the exercise and congratulated Akamatsu as he passed through the ship. They shook his hand, grinned, then went back to chatting and joking among themselves, happy with the results. They didn't understand, and Akamatsu reviled them for it. With this exercise done his fighter group was operational. It would join others in forming the new first line of defence for the Combine, the new Kido Butai of the First Aerospace Fleet. A glorious title and one his pilots were worthy of, but the expectations placed on them were unrealistic.

    He placed his feet down inside the simulated gravity ring inside the carrier, grabbing a drink and dropping into one of the lounge chairs with a long sigh. He wasn't as young as he used to be and the intense acceleration was not good for his body. At this rate, he'd be out of the service in a few more years, assuming he survived that long.

    "That was a thrilling display."

    Akamatsu tilted his head and peered at the source of the comment, a robed man smiling down at him. Comstar. Great.

    "Glad you enjoyed it." The pilot had little to say with a pseudo religious telecoms operator.

    "With your squadron at the vanguard, I have no doubt the Combine will be victorious." The man took the seat beside him, much to Akamatsu's annoyance. "Precentor Harrow by the way, Deimos station."

    "Major Akamatsu," he replied. A Precenter was pretty high ranking he recalled, best play nice.

    "How do you like the fighters?" Harrow continued. "You know they are ours?"

    "Ours?"

    "Provided by Comstar. Those are Star League designed vehicles. We still have the original factories available to build them," the Precenter continued, smiling. "We also improved the magnetic constrictors within the engine assembly. Greatly improves acceleration, don't you think?"

    "Yes, actually it does."

    "I'll tell you a secret, those constrictors are a copy of Earth Force technology." Harrow grinned even wider. "Not as efficient, but it does the job. We had a few bits of their fighters to study after Sian."

    "Lucky you."

    "Also why we increased the number and power of your RCS thrusters, try to let you match the sort of manoeuvres you'd see a Starfury pulling off."

    "We've been working on dogfight tactics, we still have a way to go."

    "Understandable," The Precenter allowed. "But still, you did well today."

    "Yes." Akamatsu drained his glass, immediately regretting not having another one.

    "That must make you confident."

    Akamatsu was not a social man, he was grumpy and short tempered, especially when he didn't have either a drink or a woman within arms reach. He absolutely had no patience for the political classes, which was why he was still a middle ranking officer despite his talents. The grinning man beside him had become more than an irritant and clearly wasn't getting the message to just leave.

    "I'm confident we can take one ship, if we are lucky two," He answered. "Then we are done, finished, dead."

    "That isn't bad for one air group."

    "No, the whole air fleet, all twelve carriers, five hundred fighters," Akamatsu clarified with a grunt. "We'll get one of them, and it will slaughter us all."

    The Precenter's smile faded, but his eyes remained fixed on the pilot.

    "I'd like to hear your assessment. Your superiors tell me they could have won at Sian if they had been there. Tell me why they are wrong."

    Akamatsu glared at him, quickly reassessing the man. Perhaps this meeting wasn't a casual little chat.

    "Alright. You saw our attack?"

    "Yes."

    "Then you saw that we attacked from multiple directions in loose formation. This is a formation to try and split the enemy fire," Akamatsu explained. "It would be better to attack in close formation, so all our torpedoes strike together in close proximity, but to do so invites attack by the Alliance anti-proton bombs. You saw those at Sian? Wiped out entire airwings in one shot."

    "I saw."

    "So we attack in loose groups, each craft individually. Problem is the target we use, that fake destroyer made out of shipping containers and balloons, its weapons are based on our technology, our own PPC batteries. I've watched the Sian battle a hundred times, the real Omega Class guns are far more accurate than anything we have. I lost four fighters on the way in. If this was real, it would have been probably eight or nine."

    "Two thirds of your force." Harrow noted.

    "Plus our torpedoes are worthless. Five kilotons each? We might as well be spitting on those ships!"

    "That is true, standard anti-ship weapons seem inadequate," Harrow considered.

    "You don't even know the best bit." Akamatsu grinned darkly. "Loose formation is fine for avoiding defensive fire, but you know what it isn't good for? Dogfighting. Those destroyers, they aren't just gun platforms, they carry thirty six fighters each. Thirty six! And good fighters too! We go in scattered, unable to support each other, and those Starfuries eat us for breakfast. We go in tight to handle the fighters, we get vaporised by an anti-proton bomb. So yes, we can probably get one ship assuming it is alone, but casualties will be almost total."

    "That is what my people told me," Harrow wasn't cheerful anymore, his voice cold and businesslike. "What if I told you we had data on an attack by eighty fighters against a unit of older Earth ships?"

    "I would like to see it."

    "Impossible, but it confirms everything you just told me. You are a very astute man, Major. Your assessment is extremely insightful." The Precenter nodded. "So how would you do it?"

    "A vanguard goes in first to clear the fighters, then the main force follows up," Akamatsu guessed. "Estimate eighty percent casualties at least, and we probably won't put enough missiles on target to kill it. But if we knock out engines and weapons, that's good enough."

    "Which is what you practised today." Harrow understood. "Very wise. What would you need to kill it?"

    "A lot more firepower."

    "I wonder Major, do you know what we in Comstar do?" Harrow asked. "Not just our HPG operations. You know that we preserve knowledge? The wealth of information from the glorious past?"

    "I'd heard something like that." He shrugged. "I guess these fighters count, and the carriers."

    "Yes, we are making them for the Combine, but we lack the skilled pilots to operate them. This is why the Primus and the Coordinator are working together. We both have a shared goal, to counter the threat of these new warships, but it seems we are still falling short." Harrow pursed his lips in thought. "Did you know, back before the Age of War, before the Aries conventions, the old Terran Hegemony had a way to manufacture nuclear weapons far smaller and more efficient than current models?"

    Akamatsu raised an eyebrow "How much more efficient?"

    "They could put a five hundred kiloton warhead on a standard LRM body," Harrow observed. "The Star League banned this, of course. It would be far too dangerous for such weapons to proliferate. After the Age of War, these sort of smaller nukes effectively became extinct. Unless one owned the old Hegemony plans for such weapons. Indeed if we go back further, the Terran Alliance also had such weapons."

    "They would make a great difference. With weapons like that, we could actually kill even the biggest warship."

    "Perhaps we can find something on Terra to help." Harrow smiled once again, but this time there was nothing cheery in the gesture. "Perhaps you should work on some tactics and strategies to take advantage of such weapons? Blake may smile on such an endeavour."



    Syria Planum
    Mars
    Earth Alliance Territory



    By shuttle, the journey would have taken minutes. Instead, Talia Winters had been trapped on the rustic seats of the crawler for four hours, as the driver appeared to hit every bump and rock on the planet. It was torture, not helped by the covered over windows and nauseating halogen lights in the passenger compartment. Her fellow passengers, half a dozen telepaths pulled at short notice from the nearby Psi Corps facility, were all equally uncomfortable and decidedly unenthusiastic.

    The news had spoken about an accident in the deserts and they had even seen the distant smoke from their accommodation within the glass dome of the Psi Corps facility, but it was just an oddity. Their seniors had, from nowhere, rounded up a bunch of unassigned personnel with nothing in common, loaded them onto this crawler, and four hours later they were finally approaching their destination.

    The lights inside turned red telling them at last to suit up and be ready to get off. The Martian environment had improved since efforts to terraform the planet had begun a century and a half ago. It no longer required a full pressure suit, but it was still bitterly cold and the air remained too thin to breathe. Talia dragged on her thick paska coat and the rebreather mask, checking to make sure all was in order as the vehicle wobbled to a stop and the back doors clanked open.

    "This way." The rebreather communicator crackled in her ear, a similarly masked figure waved at them from outside the doorway. "Assemble here."

    Talia took her turn stepping down from the wheeled crawler, noting the figure that welcomed them had the Psi Corps patch stitched into his coat. They gathered a short distance away under the Martian sun, the sky above heavy with black smoke suggesting they were at the crash site. Around them were multiple vehicles and prefab buildings all bustling with activity. To her eyes, it was a surprisingly broad selection of people for such a task. She recognized the badges of the EA Engineering corps and various HazMat workers, but to her mild surprise she also recognized the logo of IPX, Interplanetary Expeditions, who were best known for xenoarchaeology.

    "Attention please." A clipped female voice addressed them. "I am Emma Kelsey, you will each be operating under my authority. Everything you see and hear while assigned to this operation is classified Ultra Secret. The penalty for revealing any details of this operation is Death of Personality. Are you all clear on this before we go any further?"

    "I, I don't understand?" One of the group raised a hand. "What are we doing here?"

    "Your jobs as telepaths." Kelsey replied curtly. "Anything else? Good, understand you are here to serve the Corps. Follow my instructions and all will be well. Now, proceed into that building behind you and we'll get started."

    Talia did as instructed, her mind filled with questions that she instinctively suppressed. The Corps had sent them here and the Corps would not put them in danger, nor would it assign them to a task they were unsuited for. They entered the building through an airlock and were directed to a locker room where they hung up their equipment. It was a large building with lockers for about a hundred people. This was definitely not a small operation.

    "All settled? Good, I have your assignments."

    Talia's anxiety lessened a bit when she saw Emma Kelsey without her mask and coat, the long haired woman wore the black of a Psi Cop, with all the automatic trust that brought. She quickly went down the list of individuals in the group and sent them to different departments within the building.

    "Talia Winters, P5 Commercial." She made it to the bottom of the list. "You will monitor the IPX contingent. Conduct frequent scans to ensure they are maintaining security requirements. If you detect anything unusual, report back to me and I will conduct a deep scan."

    "Have they consented to these scans?"

    "Yes." Kelsey nodded. "It's part of their contract for this operation."

    "If I may ask, what is..."

    "Any questions you have will be answered by your team." Kelsey cut her off. "Stick to your assignment, report to me and me alone. Are you clear on that?"

    "I am."

    "Then begin Miss Winters, door to your left."

    There was no arguing with a Psi Cop, her instructions were clear and the matter resolved. Talia headed for the door as instructed and entered a plastic tunnel that stretched to a different complex of rapidly assembled buildings. These were filled with scientific instruments of various types manned by studious looking technicians, clearly the IPX wing. She searched around for somebody who looked to be in charge, eyes alighting on an elderly Asian man.

    "Excuse me." She interrupted his reading of a data report. "Talia Winters, I've been assigned to help with security."

    "Ah, our watch dog." He chuckled to himself. "Doctor Evan Chang, make yourself at home."

    She decided not to take offence at being called a dog. "Thanks, and just to be sure, you know why I am here?"

    "To scan us and make sure we aren't leaking information. Yes, we know." He accepted. "A little awkward but a small price to pay."

    "Provided consent has been secured, you probably won't even notice. I'll be very low profile and keep clear of your work."

    "Appreciated, it's going to be very busy here." Chang went back to his papers. "That's Doctor Kirkish, over there is Doctor Morden. If I'm not available, speak to them."

    "Got it." Talia committed the names to memory. "Anything I can do to help?"

    "Talk to Dr. Kirkish, she's probably got something."

    Talia made her way over, nodding a greeting to Dr. Morden who seemed too deep in study to notice her. Beyond him, Dr Kirkish was shuffling papers. Her hair was frazzled and it looked like she could use some decent sleep.

    "Dr Kirkish? Talia Winters, Psi Corps." She held out a hand.

    "Oh? Oh, what happened?"

    "Nothing I think, I've been assigned to help with security here. I was wondering if there was anything else I could do?"

    "Right, maybe." She relaxed and shook Talia's hand. "I don't suppose you have PhD in Geology or any form of Chemistry?"

    "Sorry, but I'm pretty good with numbers and organising things."

    Kirkish looked at the mass of papers on her desk, then up at Taia with a sudden look of glee. "Call me Mary."

    "Then it's just Talia." The telepath looked over the papers. "That's a lot of data for a freighter crash."

    Kirkish paused, looking left and right before addressing Talia. "They didn't tell you?"

    "I... no, I guess not...?" She frowned. "Is there more happening here?"

    "You'll get it when you start scanning us anyway, come, over here."

    Kirkish led her to one of the windows and pointed out of it. What Talia saw sitting partially exposed to the Martian sky was absolutely not a crashed freighter.




    "That was the last group, all telepaths are assigned." Ms. Kelsey filed the papers away in a secure cabinet, her superior nodding in approval.

    "They were specially selected by Department Sigma as expendable. If something goes wrong, they won't be missed. Though ideally, if things go smoothly, we can simply run a memory wipe."

    Behind his desk, the man steepled his fingers, lost in thought for a moment. This operation was potentially the most vital currently underway, nothing like this had ever happened before and the long term results could be game changing.

    "The dome technicians will be here soon," Kelsey continued. "Earth Force has supplied enough materials for an emergency dome structure about a mile wide. We can cover the entire digsite."

    "Time frame?"

    "Two weeks."

    "Then we will have to keep up the smokescreen for at least that long. Let ISN know the radiation is so severe we have to let the crashed freighter burn itself out."

    "Yes sir."

    "The smoke will shield us from observation until we get the dome up, then we can begin the full excavation."

    His link chimed, the man tapping the device to receive the signal.

    "Four, speak."

    "Thirteen." A female voice introduced herself. "Initial analysis of samples confirms the ship is alive."

    "Is it sentient?"

    "Unknown, recommend attempting telepathic contact as a priority. Has Sigma sent the candidates?"

    "Affirmative."

    "Begin expending them. Thirteen out."

    He steepled his fingers again, mind churning through options.

    "A living ship buried in the sands of Mars for at least a thousand years. Maybe longer," he considered. "Assessment?"

    "My question is why, why is it here?" Kelsey mused. "It matches nothing in the records."

    "It does. IPX has some devices they recovered elsewhere which have a similar construction." The man known as Four corrected. "But those devices were not alive, and there was no suggestion they ever were."

    "How do you define alive sir?"

    "That is an open question, and I think once we begin a thorough examination, we will have to change our definition of life." Four spoke simply, unemotionally. This was an incredible discovery, but for him it was just a job, another assignment. He set about it without any joy or enthusiasm, just utter dedication to achieving the goal by any means necessary. That was, after all, what he had been programmed to do.

    "Once the dome is up we begin, not before," he decided. "Select one of the telepaths. When the time comes initiate contact."

    "The team who initially found this ship - one of them touched it with his bare hands and died instantly," Kelsey warned. "Direct contact may be difficult."

    "Department Sigma will provide more telepaths if required," Four dismissed. "We will begin experiments when possible. Can you maintain control of your people?"

    "Yes."

    "I will maintain control of the rest," Four asserted. "Earth Force requires the secrets of this technology at any price. Our task is to ready that payment."[/hr][/hr]
     
    Map
  • The Light blue area near the FedSuns is where the EA is. And they're growing.


    B5BT-1.jpg
     
    Chapter 25
  • Coromodir
    Aurigan Coalition


    "This is ridiculous! The Concordat couldn't care less about this ball of rock!"

    "And yet all we ever hear from you is how this part of space used to be yours and how we are squatters on Taurian territory!"

    "That's an exaggeration!"

    "It's a declaration!"

    The shouting had been going back and forth for the best part of an hour now, ebbing and flowing with each round of discussion and fact finding. By this point, it seemed little else would be discovered and it was time to try and draw some conclusions.

    "If I may?" Secretary of Earth Alliance Foreign Affairs Frederick Lantze headed off the brewing fist fight for the fourth time today. "Let's try to keep to what we know for now. Lord Arano, could you summarise only the proven facts?"

    "Yes, very well." The ruler of the Aurigan Coalition calmed himself, restoring the dignity of his office. Tamati Arano was a well liked leader and carried the respect of his people. A broad shouldered man of Polynesian heritage, he reminded Lantze of the legendary Admiral Joe Tennant, current commander of the Earth Force Home Fleet. While he had a similar presence and confidence, he had none of the bombast of the Alliance officer. Most of the time, he was well measured and reasoned, but today Lantze was seeing more of the man's fire.

    "For almost a year now, raids have been picking at my worlds," he outlined. "Small at first, but growing. In the last three months, they have escalated sharply with battalion level strikes on major industrial and economic centres. These are not simple pirate attacks, they are too bold and too well coordinated."

    "What about your response?" Lantze asked.

    "My forces have only caught the enemy twice. Most of the time, they strike and withdraw before we can retaliate." Arano grimaced. "My warriors are outstanding, but they can only be in one place at a time."

    "Those you did engage, were they pirates?"

    "Impossible to say. Their equipment wasn't standardised, but they fought well and with considerable skill. My Captains tell me they were more like mercenaries than pirates."

    "Which suggests they were hired by someone for a greater purpose." Lantze understood. "So we must decide who."

    "The Taurian Concordat vehemently denies any involvement," Ambassador Cody Hagan declared loudly. "If we wanted your planets, we'd just take them. We don't work through proxies."

    "Exactly what somebody who worked through proxies would say." The fourth person at the table added silkily, Ambassador Esmeralda Tahir of Canopus. "Ultimately, you are the one who stands to gain from the collapse of the Aurigans."

    "And you don't?" Hagan snapped back. "Only one government here is capable of such immorality!"

    "That is slander." Tahir didn't raise her voice. She didn't need to, the venom was obvious. "We merely offer military assistance to help our neighbours."

    "Garrison armies right on our borders!" The Taurian laughed bitterly. "Your schemes are obvious!"

    "We're drifting again," Lantze once more interjected. "I think for the moment we should take a break, let tempers cool a little."

    "There's nothing more to be gained here," Lord Arano recognised. "We won't find the truth in words. But while we are all here, I do want to propose a solution, one that no innocent party would object to."

    "Go ahead." Hagan narrowed his eyes in suspicion.

    "Ultimately, you are right Ambassador, we have no hard evidence. You might be responsible, an effort to destabilise us so you can reclaim your former worlds. Or the Capellans could be doing the same thing, or the Canopians might be using it as a ploy to fill my nation with soldiers sent to help us who would turn and conquer us instead."

    He raised his hand to stop any protests.

    "The point is you all have something to gain, so I do not trust any of you." Lord Arano turned to Lantze. "But not you, Mr. Lantze. Your Alliance is too far away to have territorial ambitions. All you want is trade. Ultimately, that is why I asked you to mediate these talks, because I want something more. I need the Earth Alliance to find out who these raiders are."

    "That is... unexpected." Lantze was careful in his wording. "You are right, we have no territorial interests so far from home, but that also means we have little incentive to involve ourselves in your troubles."

    "I am prepared to offer you basing rights here," Arano stated. "I am aware you have no interest in us, but you do have some interest in Capella. I am sure you can see the value of a military staging area within striking range of their territory."

    "Our business with Capella is concluded."

    "I guarantee you, Mr Secretary, their business with you is not."

    He had a point. Even at best speed, it was a six week haul to Capellan space. A base in Auriga would put them only one or two jumps from the border. While Earth had no particular interest in getting deeper into regional power games, there was wisdom in being prepared.

    "I'll have to talk to President Santiago. An intervention would require the approval of the Senate."

    "I'm not so sure about this," Ambassador Hagan voiced. "We have no particular enmity with Earth, but they are a little too friendly with the Davions. A base in your territory also puts we Taurians in a vice."

    "I will make basing rights exclusive to the Alliance only, no Davion allies will be permitted," Lord Arano promised. "Is that satisfactory?"

    "Probably," Hagan grudgingly allowed. "But I'd like to put an observer in any mission. We didn't launch these raids and if someone is trying to frame us for it and start a fight, we want to know who it is. This isn't something we take kindly to."

    "Likewise the Magistrix would be interested in seeing how this is resolved," Ambassador Tahir concurred. "Perhaps we can both send a company to assist in any direct investigation?"

    "I thing we can swing that," Hagan agreed. "Lord Arano?"

    "A single company is acceptable. Alongside my Royal Guards and anything the Alliance wishes to send?"

    "That will be for the President to decide." Lantze remained non committal, acutely aware he was in danger of being railroaded into a course of action. "It will likely take a few days, but I believe the President will handle this before he travels to the Babylon station for it's opening."

    "Then I'll begin preparations." Arano smiled. "I firmly believe this will mark a new era for the Periphery, a greater cooperation between its strongest members."



    Aberdeen Proving Grounds
    Earth
    April 3012


    "We still have a few of these around. Most are replicas, but I've seen at least one original." Ian Davion rested a hand on the pitted steel hull of the tank, connected in that moment to an ancient history shared with this unusual world. "Rumour is the Steiners have the last Tiger tank. I'll have to ask them about it."

    He half smiled and stepped back, looking around at the collection of museum pieces.

    "My brother could probably identify them all be sight, he knows his history well. When I tell him about this place, he'll be intensely jealous."

    Michael Garibaldi gave him a good natured shrug, falling into place beside the First Prince as they strolled through the exhibits.

    "This is my first time here too. My dad talked about coming here as a kid and I guess he always planned to bring me, but never got round to it."

    "What did he do?"

    "Army, then private security and investigations, then army again."

    "Is he still with us?"

    "Last I heard, he was deployed to Proxima. The Minbari had taken the planet, but there was still plenty of resistance." Garibaldi looked away for a moment. "My guess he's still out there yelling at people."

    "I hope it is so," Ian allowed. "He sounds like a resourceful man."

    "Take more than an alien invasion to kill him, they already tried that and it didn't work." Garibaldi broke a smile. "When we get back, I'll let you know."

    The First Prince nodded, enjoying the conversation. Garibaldi had been assigned to accompany the Prince today as he took a brief tour around the museum before joining Earth Force's first Mech Regiment for an inspection. As an officer of that unit, Garibaldi seemed well placed to answer any questions Ian had, and frankly he was enjoying the simple honesty of the man. Michael Garibaldi was no diplomat, he spoke plainly and that was refreshing. He was a warrior and it was reassuring that this world had them in quantity.

    "That tank over there, that was the first one over the DMZ back in World War Three." Garibaldi nodded. "My dad always said we had an ancestor in that wave charging behind one of those things."

    "A Third World War." Ian read the notations on a plaque beside the vehicle. "I don't think we ever had one of those, though the old nations of Terra fought each other often enough. It is still unusual to learn this history, some of it shared, some of it not."

    "Must have been a bit of a surprise when we showed up out of nowhere."

    "You could say that." Ian smiled at the thought. "Most people still don't believe your story. Even many in my own court think you are just a lost colony shaped to look like old Terra."

    "Hell of a lot of shaping." Garibaldi grunted a laugh. "What do you think?"

    "I was sceptical, I admit, even after Hanse so passionately explained the science. I still don't understand it."

    "Nobody does, even the person responsible, but she's working on it."

    "Ultimately though, I think it is true. I've visited this place twice now and as a wise man once said, eliminate the impossible..." The Prince trailed off.

    "Right." Garibaldi nodded. "Pretty crazy though, right?"

    "Yes." Ian shook his head in amusement. "Crazy indeed."

    They left the museum and entered a waiting car that took them the short distance to the proving grounds themselves, an area of varied terrain and firing ranges set up by the old US Army to trial their newest inventions. It was still used for this purpose, the entrance to the range itself proudly marked by a massive block of metal with a hole cored clean through it. They passed several facilities and various vehicles, Ian paying particular attention to a row of pristine Brunhilde super heavy tanks.

    "Impressive machines." He appreciated. "Gauss guns?"

    "Rail guns, same type we used on our first generation Frigates." Garibaldi looked out at the massive vehicles, each one four times as large as the standard issue Odin tanks. "I mean, those things don't have the reactor power of a warship, so they won't hit that hard, but they'll still delete most of what you point them at."

    "Tanks still have a critical role anchoring the line of advance, MechWarriors can often forget that." Ian settled back in his seat. "Will you be deploying with them?"

    "That's what they're here for." Garibaldi confirmed. "Combined arms."

    "Good, hopefully you'll be fast learners."

    The car followed the roads through the base, the First Prince continuing to absorb everything he saw. The utilitarian buildings that could easily have belonged to his own armed forces, the columns of marching troops, the grunts painting and cleaning whatever their Sergeants told them to, a veritable sea of vehicles ranging from trucks and light Utility cars up to the massive new generation of heavy tanks. It was a massive base focused on mechanised warfare. It had enough people and vehicles to equip an army, and it wasn't even the biggest base on this continent.

    Then, finally, there was the mech hangar, a colossal long square building with no windows and plain grey painted metal sides. It wasn't a hardened structure, just a testing facility, but it was still impressive in scale. The car slowed as it approached, indicating it was their destination, a gaggle of people in suits and dress uniforms milling around by the entrance.

    "Ah, yeah, right." Garibaldi winced. "I was hoping to avoid these guys. I lied about when you'd be arriving."

    "Should I be concerned?" Ian wondered.

    "Not really, just try not to get any slime on you as you push past."

    "I see." Ian half smiled. "So you have lobbyists too?"

    "Everywhere. That one is the Governor, there's the CEO of Mitchell Hyundyne, I have no idea who the rest are, but they definitely want something."

    "Fortunately I've had plenty of practice. Stay close, Lieutenant, I'll punch a hole through their ranks." Ian grinned. "One advantage of my rank is that no one gets in your way."

    The car pulled up and Ian was out immediately and setting off at a forceful pace. Aside from being First Prince, he was also a hardened warrior in his prime, an imposing physical presence in addition to the charisma and charm of his upbringing. He may not have had the subtle wit of his brother, but Ian was still a larger than life character. If he decided something was going to happen, it happened. And right now he had decided he wasn't wasting a second out here.

    "First Prince, welcome to Maryland!" A sharp suited middle aged man took the lead moving to intercept. "I'm Governor Robert Fallon, do you have a moment to talk sir?"

    "Not right now." Ian smiled but did not reduce his pace, striding toward the cluster of suits who parted before him, exactly as he knew the would. "I have some duties to take care of. You can contact my secretary through your government."

    "I wanted to ask if you had decided on purchasing Starfuries?"

    "That will depend on the outcome of the evaluation and if Commander Sinclair believes they satisfy our needs." The door was getting closer, Garibaldi rushing to keep up.

    "We have some significant investment opportunities in this great state, perhaps..."

    "I can be reached through my secretary." Ian maintained his well practised smile. "Now, if you'll excuse me I am here in an official capacity and I have a strict schedule. Good day Governor, gentlemen."

    He entered the facility, let Garibaldi through, then shut the door with some strength in the faces of the politicians and lobbyists.

    "My presence here was supposed to be privileged information," Ian exhaled. "This isn't a state visit."

    "Probably the Governor." Garibaldi guessed. "Lot of business interests, if you ever need to know who is pulling the strings, follow the money."

    "Indeed." The First Prince exhaled. "Well that's done, let's go do something entertaining. Show me the mech."

    "Right this way."

    The interior resembled a cross between a hangar and a factory, with most of the space dedicated to maintaining mechs for the testing runs, with sections set aside for machining additional parts. Earth was still in its testing phase when it came to battlemechs and probably would be for years to come. Things had progressed to the point where the first native built factories were coming online and a few hundred machines had been built, but there was still much to do.

    "I see you've taken to mechs rather well." Ian smiled. "Very similar set up to our own procedures. Your gantries look identical."

    "Form follows function." Garibaldi grinned. "Plus we ended up with a few standard maintenance bays with that Urbie factory the Capellans gave us."

    "Which explains your little friends over there." Ian nodded to a quartet of grey Urban Mechs gathered at the edge of the hangar, gleaming with fresh paint. "Good little machines in the right setting. Back in the academy, I took down an entire medium lance piloting one of those. Great days."

    Garibaldi had to respect that, he'd engaged UrbanMechs in wargames and had wiped the floor with them in every fight. Rumour was that Ian Davion was a mechwarrior of the highest calibre. Garibaldi looked forward to finding out.

    "The guys have been working on the mech you sent for the last couple of months." He kept pace beside the First Prince, the clang of machinery and percussive calibration forcing him to raise his voice a little. "Is it one of your personal mechs?"

    "No, though if the modifications are as good as you say, I might adopt it." He grinned at the thought. "Originally she was Kuritan, we took her during the liberation of Robinson quite a while ago now."

    "That would explain the Japanese writing stamped on the reactor casing."

    "She's been part of the Guards Brigade ever since, switching through different units as required." Ian spotted the target up ahead. "The original pilot had called her 'Atsuki,' so we kept the name as a mark of respect. She is an old and glorious warrior, Mr Garibaldi. I'm interested to see how she has adapted to new technology."

    The source of their conversation rested in the central mechbay, the imposing bulk of an Atlas Assault Mech gazing balefully at the far wall with dull eyes. Like most Atlas mechs, it had a terrifying visage, though in the case of Atsuki, it was modeled more on a Samurai mask, instead of the classic skull face. Despite its Kuritan origins, the machine stood in Davion blue with her Royal stripes of white and red standing in contrast. The mech lacked any unit markings yet, but there was a small badge on her arm applied by the team who had modified her.

    "I think I can see what you've done, but walk me through it anyway, Lieutenant." Ian craned and peered around examining the mech. "Then we absolutely must take this thing for a stroll."

    "Well, this was a test run to see if we could add new weapons and systems to an existing machine, and a big one at that." Garibaldi stared up at the Atlas. "We retrofitted some other captured mechs but nothing this big, and not to this degree. The most obvious change is the pulse cannons, four uni-pulse cannons, two on each forearm. We had to ditch the medium lasers but I think its a small sacrifice."

    "These are a type of particle weapon, correct?"

    "Yes, they fire bolts of energy in small rapid pulses, exactly the same guns we use on Starfuries, but better protected."

    "Rate of fire?"

    "Very high, about one round every half second per gun."

    "Very handy. What about the heat buildup?"

    "The alloys and power systems we use are highly efficient, there's very little waste heat," Garibaldi explained. "Even so they aren't perfect, and your second gun definitely isn't." He pointed to the torso. "We swapped the AC 20 for a plasma cannon, and that will generate some heat."

    "That had better be as nasty as it sounds if you took out my giant gun."

    "Oh, it is. That thing coughs out a glob of superheated plasma hotter than the sun, which will douse any target out to about five hundred metres. So it's pretty short ranged, but anything it hits is dead. Not just a little dead either. Very dead."

    "I think I could make that work." Ian half smiled. "Even if I don't make a clean kill, all that heat would top an enemy's heatsinks."

    "This is a new weapon for mechs. We only use plasma weapons on our largest warships. Honestly, we don't actually know if it'll work."

    "I'm very keen to find out." Ian spoke with absolute sincerity. "What else did your people manage?"

    "Well, to feed these weapons we had to boost reactor performance, that meant adding extra capacity to your power systems. Unfortunately that needed us to take away your missiles in the torso there. The LRMs."

    "That's a pity, but you are using the space for more reactor capacity?"

    "Exactly." Garibaldi confirmed. "We kept your short range missiles and made them compatible with our own Hammer missiles. They don't hit as hard as a standard SRM, but they are fire and forget. They don't miss."

    "Any change to the armour?"

    "No, we just don't have anything right now that works better than what it came with. Same for the motive systems. Myomers are entirely new to us, so apart from having more power to put into the legs there's no real difference." Garibaldi shrugged. "But we did update your heat sinks to handle plasma weapons. I don't know the specifics but each mount is about four times more efficient."

    "So a quad heatsink? That is definitely handy."

    "You've got improved comms, updated targeting systems, auto tracking and datalinks, holographic heads up display..." Garibaldi ran down. "Oh, and a pair of CPPGs on the shoulders, just up there on flexi-mounts. We use those instead of machine guns, rapid fire phased plasma bolts. We put them there to handle infantry and anyone trying to get behind you, but the tech guys say they should work pretty well for intercepting missiles."

    "My very own anti-missile system? That is a nice addition." Ian considered. "So I've lost long ranged weapons, but in return I have gained excellent medium and close range energy weapons."

    "That's about it."

    "Good, I like to get up close in a fight anyway. So, how much did all this cost?"

    "No idea, but to you, nothing."

    "Nothing?"

    "A gift from the President of the Earth Alliance." Garibaldi beamed. "And the good people at Lockheed Dynamics, who are probably hoping you'll be so happy you'll buy an army from them."

    "They might not be wrong. Let's go for a test run, see if Atsuki is as dangerous as she sounds."



    The newly built mech range had seen a fair amount of testing. Earlier that day, the base commander had sent some of the new Brunhilde tanks through to put them through their paces. It was a standard set up with various obstacles, terrain types, and pop up wooden targets shaped like various mechs and tanks to shoot at. Some were on rails to offer a moving enemy, though none returned fire. Garibaldi had run this course a dozen times in his Marauder and could usually complete it in just under twenty minutes. The record was his fellow test pilot Captain Colette Farro, who had done it in nineteen minutes. Ian Davion, in an Atlas, did it in twelve.

    "Absolutely outstanding!" The First Prince didn't even try to hide his glee as he stormed through the course. He went through at a full run and barely slowed down for anything. He fired on the move with better accuracy than Garibaldi managed stationary while carefully conserving his fire. No target took more than two rounds, and he did not miss once.

    Garibaldi angled his Marauder to step up beside the Atlas. He hadn't been engaging any targets, he had only needed to follow the Prince and he still managed to fall behind. It was at first embarrassing before it became concerning. Ian was a top tier warrior, so it was expected he'd beat the course handily, but nobody expected him to demolish it so thoroughly. It was a reminder that Earth Forces shiny new Mech Regiments still had a lot to do.

    "I'm not even at three percent heat, I needn't have been so conservative with my weapons." The Prince sounded genuinely overjoyed. "And its nice not to have to wear any cooling gear. Feels wonderful in here!"

    "Glad you had fun." Garibaldi was pleased his comrade was having a good time. Given his duties and responsibilities, it must have been a rare event just to cut loose and indulge himself. "Any recommendations?"

    "The balance is off, a little front heavy, and while you boosted power to the legs, you need more in the arms too," Ian recommended. "I can walk your teams through the balancing calibrations. You just need to compensate more for these pulse cannons."

    "Understood."

    "Other than that, I think I've found my new mount. This upgrade is fantastic. Your Marauder has the same set up?"

    "That's right," Garibaldi confirmed. "Pulse cannons, advanced targeting, superior heat management. Earth Force has already selected the Marauder as it's primary Battlemech."

    "A good choice," Ian approved. "What about other units? A mech formation needs to be flexible."

    "We're also building Locusts for scout missions and raiding, Stalkers for heavy assault, and our Urbies for infantry support."

    "Just those four?"

    "At the moment, yeah, they fill the roles we need and it helps our logistics to mass produce only a few models."

    "That's logical enough, but I expect you'll find you need more designs to fill out other missions. Still, for a general purpose Regiment, I can think of worse. They should serve you well."

    "As soon as we're up to full production, I think it's inevitable the President will offer to sell you some," Garibaldi guessed.

    "I'll buy them. High quality brand new mechs are worth every penny." Ian didn't hesitate. "And I am sure Katrina will too. The terms of our trade treaties state anything offered to one of us must also be offered to the other."

    "To keep the balance between you and the Archon." Garibaldi understood. "But not the other powers?"

    "Janos Marik is trying to get in on it, make it a three way power block and keep up with us," Ian recalled. "He might make it too. The Lyrans are trying to keep them out, but I think your President wants the League in on this. Janos is a potentially disruptive element. A good statesman will want to bring someone like him in as a counterweight to Katrina and I."

    "You think its a good idea?"

    "It is a good idea, at least from Santiago's position. It reduces my influence and Katrina's, so I don't like it. But it is logical, and I can live with it. Your President is at least wise enough not to trust Kurita or Liao."

    "Do you think Liao is still a threat? You gave them a beating and took a few worlds."

    "Less than I'd like. Candace Liao is a much better strategist than I gave her credit for," Ian was forced to admit. "But their strategic reserves are depleted, many of their best warriors are dead, and their people are still humiliated. They are dangerous, but in no position to strike against anyone. Kurita is the real threat, always has been."

    "Is that why you are cosying up to the Lyrans? Surround Draconis and hit them from both sides?"

    "Ir probably looks like that, and I have no doubt Takashi Kurita believes it. But in truth, I think Katrina and I have found ourselves reaching a similar conclusion. The old rivalries aren't sustainable anymore. We have to move beyond our old objectives and accept the galaxy is never going back to what it was. The Star League is dead, the throne of First Lord is a poisoned chalice that has robbed us all of so much and given us nothing in return. Your arrival has probably accelerated the process, forced us to confront it sooner rather than later."

    "But that's a good thing right?"

    "For me? Yes, and no doubt for Katrina too. But you also made the other Lords reassess their situation too and accept the status quo is now completely overturned. Some of us are trying to make a more peaceful and closer future, but I think Kurita is going to lash out, and the saints only know what Marik is going to do. I doubt even Janos knows what he'll do beside scramble not to be left behind."

    "Times are a'changing then." Garibaldi was forced to reach the same conclusion. "Think it's gonna get bad?"

    "No doubt about it," Ian confirmed. "So a few Regiments of pulse cannon Marauders would be very welcome indeed. Kurita will move against Katrina and I. When he does, he'll die very surprised."



    Bavaria

    There was still a chill in the air despite the spring sunshine, the idyllic lakeside retreat lined with tall trees amid rolling hills. It was a beautiful secluded spot with as much peace and quiet as anyone could wish for, a chocolate box wooden lodge nestled among the trees near the lake, giving its occupants that timeless German fairytale experience.

    Katrina Steiner appreciated it, not for the view or the history, but because it gave her a rare and blissful few weeks of peace with her family. These moments were beyond precious, not least because they were inevitably coming to an end.

    She settled on one of the padded wicker chairs, drawing her legs up beneath her, a cup of warm tea cupped in her hands releasing its steam into the crisp air. In the seat beside her was her husband, smaller and frailer than at any time she had known him. Arthur Luvon had been a man of boundless energy and drive, someone who had lifted her high in her worst days, who had shielded her from harm and loaned his strength when the time to fight had arrived. She had no doubt she wouldn't be here today without him. In all likelihood, she'd already be buried in the dynastic cemetery.

    To see such a man reduced to such a shadow had been like a curse, a reminder of the cruelty of the universe.

    "Do you think your ancestors lived in a place like this?" Arthur spoke quietly, a raspy whisper from beneath several layers of clothing.

    "No, no not at all." Katrina smiled over the tea. "We were just workers, industrialists, scholars. We aren't descended from ancient nobility. What we are, we shaped ourselves."

    "And now you could probably buy this whole country."

    "I don't think its for sale."

    "Everything has a price."

    "And now you sound like a Marik."

    He coughed a laugh, the act apparently creating some discomfort. "It is a nice view."

    Closer to the shore was their daughter Melissa, the small child apparently enjoying the cool water, splashing playfully at her Governess who was futilely chasing after the small child.

    "She has your looks," he considered.

    "And your disregard for authority," Katrina replied, immediately making her feel guilty as Arthur made another grating laugh. They were silent for a while absorbed in their own thoughts, soaking in the moment.

    "I think I'm ready to head back." Arthur broke the silence.

    "Are you sure? It's a long way back. Maybe you should stay here, this is a good place to stay for..." She tailed off, unable to finish the sentence.

    "For the last weeks of my life?" He concluded for her. "I know what you're thinking, but I want to be back home. This place is beautiful, and it was very close to the hospital for us, but it's time to go."

    "I'll come with you."

    "You can't, you know you can't." He smiled back. "You have to go to the opening of the Babylon station. You have to smile and shake hands and be nice to people who hate everything you stand for. That's what an Archon has to do."

    "I don't want to be out there when... when it is time."

    "Don't worry, I won't be going anywhere before you get back." Arthur looked back out over the lake. "If the Reaper shows up, I'll brawl with him until you get home. No force in this universe will rob us of one more day together."

    She had accepted this reality a long time ago, but accepting it and being able to deal with it were two very different things. During one of their adventures together, both Arthur and Katrina had been exposed to a severe dose of Radiation, Arthur more than herself. It had turned out that Earth Alliance medical science was advanced to the point where it could treat radiation induced cancers, but only to a degree. Katrina's radiation exposure had been low enough that she could be treated. Arthur's was not.

    "I'm sorry this happened. Sorry I lead us into that deathtrap, sorry I dragged you along, sorry I didn't know any better." Katrina voiced what she had been keeping tied up within for so many years. "I thought it was going to be worth it, that securing black box technology was worth our lives."

    "It gives us an advantage nobody can touch, secure interstellar communications."

    "And a few years later a group of strangers from nowhere gives us tachyon encoded transmitters that achieve the same goal for no sacrifice." She squeezed shut her eyes, pushing the tears back to where they came from. "All of that sacrifice, that risk, those lives. What was it for? What will your death be for?"

    "You can't see the future, Kat. You acted for the good of the Commonwealth and we all agreed to go with you knowing the risks. It is a price we all agreed to pay and I don't regret it," Arthur spoke plainly. "And we still have the black boxes if we ever need them. Something even our Alliance friends have no idea about. Might be useful just in case."

    "I stole your future."

    "You gave a future to the whole Commonwealth, one far greater than anyone else could have done." Arthur summoned up some real passion, some energy that was buried inside to truly get his point across. "You are the right person, in the right place, at the right time. You are the only one who can actually lead us to a different future, to move beyond the bones of the Star League and forge a new galaxy. That's worth more than one life."

    She often told herself the same thing, that nobody else had the vision or the strength to completely redirect the course of her people, and through that, the entire galaxy. It was an ambition as lofty as they came, to reshape a civilisation of trillions, an entire galaxy, but that was her goal. She had no idea if it was possible, but with Ian Davion seemingly open to her plans and now this Earth Alliance, there was a hope, a faint spot of light in the distance. Maybe she really could do this, or maybe she could not. She knew sacrifices would need to be made, but the reality of what that meant was really hitting home.

    "I had longer than I thought, these treatments delayed the inevitable a few years and I'm glad it did." Arthur watched his daughter playing in the lake. "I got to see my child grow, I heard her first words, saw her first steps. I want to see her reach adulthood, see what kind of woman she grows into. I want to disapprove of her choice in men, wag my finger at her is she dresses too wildly. I want to walk the aisle on her wedding day and hold my grandchildren. But more than all of that, I want Melissa to live in a galaxy where all those things will one day happen, and if we hadn't done all we did, then she wouldn't have any of that. What we did, the risks, the sacrifice, it made her future possible, and is going to be a beautiful future. Promise me you'll see it through."

    "Of course I will, nothing is more important." Katrina spoke without doubt. "She will be a leader we can both be proud of, and a good kind person."

    "Such a rare combination." Arthur nodded in satisfaction. "My cousin Morgan will watch over her in my place. I've left him my fortune and he's already building a mercenary unit, the Kell Hounds. You'll always be able to rely on them."

    "The Kells are honourable and determined people, but it won't be the same."

    "I know, but sometimes the cost of building a better future is not ever seeing it. I made my choice and I'd make it again. Now you have to keep going, make all the sacrifices worth while, make a future for Melissa to lead in peace," Arthur shared with her. "That's your sacrifice, to keep going and keep fighting and do the impossible. Change the entire galaxy."

    "You always did dream big." Katrina smiled despite it all.

    "We both did, and you'll make it real." He settled back down, his energy evaporating in an instant. "I'll be watching and you will both always have my love. Time won't wait for us, but I'll see you back home for a real farewell. Nothing will take that moment from our family."[/hr][/hr][/hr]
     
    Chapter 26
  • Babylon 3
    Ceti Star System


    Inauguration Day was absolutely as busy as expected, the sky around the station choked with drop ships milling around or hanging in space to watch things unfold. While the event would be televised, there was much to be said for seeing it all first hand, especially as Earth Force was going to be putting on various fighter displays and a lightshow. Keeping the mass of vessels in at least some sort of order was a major headache, one that was distinctly unwelcome on top of the existing migraine of handling a full house of dignitaries.

    "The Marik ship is locked down in the VIP Dock," Major Lewis Krantz reported. "That's the last one, the Liao and Kurita ships are already locked away."

    "I trust there's plenty of distance between those docks?"

    "Absolutely sir, and I have round the clock guards on bay access."

    That was probably a wise choice. The way the local powers hated each other made the Narn and Centauri conflict look like bickering children. They were more polite about it, but the odds of an assassination happening on this station were going to be high for a long time.

    "How about traffic control, what's that looking like?"

    "Busy, but we've got the various civilian ships divided up into blocks. Space Lanes are clear and we have two squadrons on crowd control."

    "Good, we're expecting the President any minute now, along with the last two House Lords. If anyone's going to make a move, it'll be then."

    "I'll keep the defense grid heated up sir," Krantz nodded.

    "On standby, but not deployed. No need to spook the guests unless we have to."

    This would be the great test, and one of the most nerve wracking moments of his career. General Walter Smits was an old soldier. He'd earned his wings in the border wars at the turn of the century before commanding a battlegroup against the Dilgar. Since that time, he'd been part of the Colonial Defence command, organising the various patrols and anti-piracy flotillas defending Earth's colonies, which had transitioned into running Minbari Blockades in the last war.

    Today though, in this new reality, he was Military Governor of Babylon Three, several trillion tons of space station, hundreds of light years from home, representing what was best in the Earth Alliance. A technological and industrial wonder, it was designed to help foster business and trade between Earth and the Inner Sphere, while also serving as neutral ground for the great houses to speak. Whether it did any of those things remained to be seen.

    In any case, General Smits would do his part. As one of the most senior officers left in the Force, he had been first choice for the assignment, his experience in dealing with the assorted and often hostile colonial administrations hopefully preparing him for the day to day realities of this mission. Smits wouldn't have to worry about negotiations or diplomacy at least. Earth was sending its own specialized Ambassador for that, but he'd still be responsible for making sure the various House Ambassadors were happy. He was absolutely dreading that.

    Still, command of Babylon Three was a highly prestigious posting, a nice final assignment before he retired in a few years time. Until then, he was determined to make the station a success and leave a well structured and proven routine for his successor.

    So far things had gone well for Babylon 3. Construction had been smooth after Earth Force had taken over security for the project rather than leave it in the hands of contractors. There had been no sabotage, no disasters or mishaps. For such a massive project, it was somewhat surprising. The station itself was just over six miles long, a metal cylinder with extensive docking facilities and the ability to house and support a third of a million people indefinitely. The Babylon stations were all designed to be self sustaining, with extensive food production capacity, enough genetically tweaked plants to keep the air fresh and breathable, plus machine shops to fix anything that broke. They could even refine their own fuel from raw hydrogen mined from the gas giants deeper in system.

    The station had a permanent population of a few tens of thousands, which was expected to grow massively. Tourism was predicted to be the key driver. Curiosity about the Earth Alliance was high and this station offered a far easier destination than the long haul to Tortuga for most people. All the various shop fronts and kiosks were long since sold out and awaiting their owners. Restaurants and bars were looking forward to making a fortune each, while advertisers had bought every inch of available space to hawk their wares.

    In terms of protection, the station had a respectable defense grid. Earth Force had decided against any capital class guns as there was no need. The hull sported nothing bigger than light pulse cannons and rapid fire interceptors, which was considered sufficient. It could defend itself, but would rely on its four squadrons for any offensive missions. That said, it would be policy to keep a warship on station somewhere close by as a response force.

    Internal security was a greater concern. With so much traffic and the intricacies of House Politics, not only did the station have a robust security detachment, it also had a company of Marines for more direct threats. On top of that, far less obvious, was a field branch of the EIA to keep an eye open for anything happening on the station, or nearby.

    The only major change to the design had been the addition of docking ports specifically tailored to locally produced dropships. Rather than the modular EA built freighters that unloaded pallets in zero gravity, provisions had been made for a few hundred universal docking rings to facilitate the expected local traffic.

    The location had been easy to choose, but had unlocked it's own set of mysteries. The Ceti system was within Lyran claimed territory relatively close to the more famous Tau Ceti star system, better known locally as New Earth. Both of those stars had been Earth Alliance colonies back home, so there was a certain familiarity with them, and that is where things started to get odd.

    New Earth had become very familiar to the construction crews, it was their main choice for shore leave and the influx of traffic to Babylon 3 promised to boost the economy on New Earth too. They had been happy to let Earth scientists survey the planet and it had turned out to be identical to its equivalent in Alliance territory a universe away.

    But Ceti was different. Here, it was an unremarkable rock which had been untouched, apart from a very brief Terran Alliance outpost. The Lyrans had no objections to leasing the system to Earth for the duration of the Babylon project, as it was otherwise worthless. Only its location within one jump of each major power made it of any interest.

    But back home, Ceti had been habitable. Indeed more than that, in antiquity, it had been the homeworld of the Garmak species, a belligerent empire that had been early rivals to the Centauri. The Garmak had been the superior of the three major nations which had risen to fill the power vacuum after the Great Wars of a thousand years earlier, with the Orieni being the third. Unfortunately for the Garmak, they had decided to pick a fight with the Minbari, considering the isolationist power a paper tiger hiding behind whispered legends and fears. Like humanity several centuries later, they were proven violently incorrect. The Minbari crushed the Garmak, but unlike the war with Earth, the Minbari maintained control of themselves. There was no calls to genocide, they simply obliterated the Garmak military and went home.

    The miracle of survival didn't last long, as the Centauri arrived shortly after and enslaved their former rivals, initiating the first major expansion of the Centauri Republic as a superpower. The Garmak persisted, but eventually were driven to extinction. What was left of their civilization was bombed to nothing after an ill fated rebellion during the Centauri/Orieni war. The Centauri abandoned the planet soon after as their empire contracted, clearing the way for humanity to claim it, just as the biosphere was recovering from the bombardment.

    None of that history had happened here. The planet had never been habitable, its rocks had never been able to support even simple life. There was no real reason why not, especially as all the pieces were there and habitable worlds seemed unusually common in this universe. Yet Ceti had never become one of them. The Garmak never existed, nothing had.

    It wasn't just here either. An expedition to Zeta Turanae, the location of Centauri Prime, had likewise found only lifeless rocks. Each major League Homeworld, again, lifeless. And yet worlds like Aquila, Sirius, Proxima, planets inhabitable and claimed by the Alliance back home were likewise habitable worlds here. As were several known League colonies Earth had fought over during the Dilgar invasion. But not their homeworlds. The pattern seemed to be that habitable colony worlds were identical, but not any homeworlds apart from Terra itself.

    That was of course an impossible coincidence. How could all the planets known to birth sentient life be barren, but other perfectly habitable worlds were not? There was no pattern regarding location, star type, age, nothing. The only thing those worlds had in common was that they were homeworlds of known species. Even the homeworlds of semi-sentient creatures who might have one day evolved to true sentience, like the Nakaleen feeder or the Zarg, were similarly barren.

    Several scientific organisations were currently working with the Explorer Division to find out why. So far, no trace of orbital bombardments or other obvious interference had been detected, but such coincidences were absurdly unlikely. The sense of cosmic dread was, however, mitigated by the fact that IPX had found that their maps of known Quantium deposits also turned out to be accurate. And of course, the reserves in this universe were completely untapped.

    "General, the Presidential escort just signaled." Major Krantz leaned over the text display scrolling across his main control panel. "They are about to make their jump, requesting final clearance."

    "Double check their entry point." Smits ordered. "Still empty space?"

    "Yes sir, we're all green."

    "Clearance approved." Smits nodded. "Alert all squadrons, here we go."

    It took another couple of minutes before the first ship arrived above Ceti, a clean jump directly to the pirate point high above the barren world. It was closely followed by four others, a quintet of Omega class destroyers, led by the Alexander under General Hague once again. The ships performed their own checks of the immediate area before sending their own approval for the rest of the task force to deploy.

    The President had elected not to travel in EarthForce One this time, the diplomatic liner not best suited to defend itself from determined attacks. It wasn't just President Santiago, but also Archon Steiner and First Prince Davion all arriving together, the temptation of eliminating all three leaders necessitating some precautions. Another couple of destroyers arrived, then between them, in a blinding flash of blue, arrived the Presidential transport, the EAS Poseidon.

    The Alexander and her ships took up vanguard positions around the President, more Omegas arriving to fill out the escort. The Poseidon was substantially larger than the already hefty destroyers surrounding it, the prototype supercarrier immensely bulky and ungainly looking thanks to its blocky hangar decks. While not designed for direct combat, the Poseidon had enough firepower to adequately protect itself, including the same heavy weapons as the Omega, and an absolutely ridiculous number of missiles, but that wasn't really the point. Destroyer after destroyer continued to jump into the system and form up beside the carrier, an expanding sphere of grey steel. It took half an hour for the entire fleet to arrive, ninety destroyers in total surrounding the supercarrier, the biggest deployment since the Battle of Proxima.

    Santiago was, of course, making a statement. He didn't need that many ships to escort him. Indeed he needed none at all, nor did he need the Poseidon to serve as his transport when any destroyer would be satisfactory. He knew the news agencies of the galaxy would be here watching, and he knew the great powers and those who guided them would also be paying close attention. This was a message to them, a demonstration that he could send this many ships this far from home on a mission this unnecessary.

    He knew as well as they did what five ships had done to Sian. What could ninety do? The Poseidon and her bulk was just the sugar on top, a warship far heavier than anything on local records to underline the fact that the same industry that had made the Babylon station could just as easily make weapons of war. This was, of course, at the limit of what he could send. Rather than a casual deployment, it had taken immense coordination and represented almost the entirety of Earthforce's expeditionary capacity. But the other great powers didn't know that, and Santiago wanted today to be all about generating awe.

    The assembled fleet began its short journey to the station, with each destroyer holding position around the carrier. The group then launched their full airwings, thousands of fighters again assuming defensive positions around the formation, following the flight plan that ended with the Poseidon facing Babylon 3 a few miles out. For most of the galaxy, today was probably the first time most citizens of the Inner Sphere were getting a good look at the Earth Alliance. Santiago wanted it to be unforgettable.

    "Presidential shuttle is on its way," Krantz reported. "The Archon and First Prince will launch after the President docks."

    "I want close escort on all three of those transports," Smits ordered clearly. "Put so many Starfuries out there that they could walk to the station."

    This was the bit that was giving Smits palpitations. As long as the President was on the carrier, he was all but untouchable, but on a shuttle, it was different. There were a hell of a lot of civilian and unregistered ships lurking around and while his pilots were keeping them back and trying to scan each ship, any one of them could pop off a barrage of missiles or a salvo of laser fire from hidden weapon banks. He watched the procession like a hawk. Only when all three shuttles successfully landed did he relax a little.

    "Security has secured a route from the docking bay to the conference hall," Major Krantz relayed. "Shall I give the go order for the other guests?"

    "Do it." The General pulled himself up from behind his console and straightened up his uniform with a decisive tug. "I'll head down there and start shaking hands. Call me immediately if anything sets on fire or otherwise explodes."

    "Aye sir."

    In that moment he was undecided if that would be a good thing or a bad one.




    The main transit terminal was not yet operational. Besides the station personnel and diplomatic staff, Babylon 3 was not yet open to the public. For now at least, the entire ingress point with customs and passport checking stations were empty and unmanned, not that anyone would likely ask the sort of people currently roaming the station for identification. Instead ranks of officers and enlisted stood in their dress uniforms, four ranks deep, waiting for the final tranche of guests. With these arrivals, the station would set about its business at last.

    The Presidential shuttle had arrived first but Santiago had insisted on waiting for the other two royal vessels to dock, sleek and well decorated drop shuttles that made Centauri ships look drab and cheap. Smits had to wait with the rest of the honor guard until half an hour later, the four last people on his list arrived, meandering through the docking bays into the terminal itself..

    "Mr. President." General Smits snapped a salute to his Commander in Chief. "Welcome to Babylon 3."

    "General, thank you." Luis Santiago responded with a casual salute in return, the former Senator from Buenos Aires projecting an easy confidence. He didn't put on any air of arrogance or superiority, his manner was more like a school teacher with a calming smile and the feeling he would always have the time to indulge his students. It was a persona of course. Santiago was a career politician and as sharp and ruthless as any who had risen to such heights, but that pleasant easiness had served him well in the elections. "It's a great pleasure to be here, and a relief. Wasn't convinced this place would still be here when we arrived."

    It was told as a joke with a gentle laugh, but the message was sincere.

    "We have the situation well in hand, Mr. President. We've had no incidents at all."

    "Good, if anything was going to happen, it would be today. You don't mind if my security detail double checks everything?"

    "Not at all, sir."

    It didn't matter if Smits had objected, he'd already noted a team of hard looking men in dark suits breezing past security, waving identi-cards that opened every door in the Alliance. He also knew there were at least ten Psi Cops deployed at key positions, ten that he knew about anyway.

    The second guest was also very familiar.

    "Madam Levy, I can't imagine how you must be feeling."

    "Overwhelmed." The former President shook his hand. "To see this place actually functioning, it's incredible."

    "Maybe you'll actually sit back and enjoy your retirement now?" Santiago chided with mild amusement. "I've known a lot of lobbying agents in my time, all complete amateurs compared to this woman."

    "After the loss of the first station, there was a powerful movement to cancel the project. After the loss of the second..." She sighed heavily. "Yet here we are. We fought for this, pushed for it, begged, borrowed, and stole to get to this point. It will be worth it."

    "I have no doubt Ma'am." Smits allowed a real smile. Levy had been worn out and exhausted by the presidency, which was understandable, but this project had restored much of her fire.

    The next two arrivals were strangers to him, but their faces were known across the galaxy. He straightened up and put on his best smile.

    "Archon Steiner, welcome to Babylon 3."

    "A pleasure to be here General." She allowed him to take her hand in the formal style, the Archon exquisite in a frosty coloured gown that accentuated her pale features and hair. "This place is even more magnificent than I had expected, a true testament to what cooperation may achieve."

    "I agree entirely Ma'am." He bowed, then pivoted. "Likewise, welcome aboard First Prince."

    This time he offered a salute which was returned perfectly, Ian Davion in his own full dress uniform.

    "Lot of hard work here, General. You'll make this place the envy of everyone else."

    "Perhaps, but that was not our intention sir."

    Ian laughed. "Of course it was. Congratulations on a job well done General. Now, I assume there's some sort of lunch to be attended?"

    "Right this way, produce from our own farms and orchards."

    "Should be different."

    The Babylon station had been built to have every amenity and luxury, but during construction, it had become very apparent that Earth's opinion of luxury fell somewhat short of everybody else. Whereas even the highest ranked EA diplomat was happy with simulated gravity, actual water showers, and two steel walled rooms about the size of an inner city studio apartment, that didn't really work for the representatives of the Great Houses. With a lot of help from the Lyrans, Earth had dramatically upgraded their facilities to something altogether grander. Diplomatic quarters had been moved out to the gardens and were now stone villas surrounded by trees and flowerbeds, all lavishly decorated. The Council chambers were wood paneled, lit by chandeliers and housed oil paintings of various landscapes from Earth selected for their neutrality.

    Most of the rest of the station retained its plain utilitarian design. Grey was the dominant color and most of the surfaces were given little more than corrosion resistant paint. The markets, bars, consular offices, and corporate sectors were all extremely bland, but walking into the diplomatic quarter was like entering another land. Nestled between the villas was the great hall, a place for balls and banquets to serve as something of a social hub for the nobility. It was again a building in its own right, set among gardens that would otherwise have been a public park, a stone faced edifice with great ornate doors and its own staff of butlers and maids from the highest quality hotels on Earth. This was where the functions so beloved by the various aristocrats would play out with all the intrigue and positioning that entailed, all starting today.

    The ballroom at the heart of the hall was already busy, throngs of immaculately dressed individuals mingling and meandering, making deals, spreading rumors, plotting. Most paused and glanced across as the first of the real VIPs began to arrive, spearheaded by President Santiago with the masters of House Steiner and Davion alongside. In a world of image and presentation, the arrival of the rulers of these three entities together was obviously symbolic. Lines had long been drawn, friends and enemies were in the process of being sifted. This showed where the EA was aligning.

    "President Santiago. An honor."

    He had barely made it through the doors when the voice interrupted his plans, the President of the Earth Alliance fixing a deceptively pleasant smile.

    "Anton Marik." Santiago had been well briefed on the people he was expected to meet and their relative value. Anton was considered a high value individual, so the President extended a hand and offered some indulgence. "The honour is mine, I was surprised when such a high ranked person was named as Ambassador."

    That was, of course, a lie. If Janos Marik could have sent his brother even further away, he would have.

    "It was a surprise, but I consider it an opportunity." Anton hid his disappointment well. "Improving ties with your Alliance is a key element in League policy. I am humbled to be at the forefront of that."

    "My trade office has approved a partnership deal to manufacture new jump ships in League territory," Santiago recalled. "We can probably have the papers signed this month."

    "That will be great news for the Captain General, he doesn't want us to fall behind our fellow Lords when it comes to merchant ships."

    "Trade is the lifeblood of a healthy nation, I believe we both agree on this," Santiago approved. "More ships means more trade, and that is good for everyone."

    "On that we are wholly agreed."

    "If you will excuse me Ambassador, I must speak with my own representative here, but rest assured the Alliance is very interested in greatly expanding trade with your League."

    "I sincerely look forward to helping deliver it."

    A string chamber orchestra began to run through some suitable music, drawing a few of the younger and more carefree guests to the center of the hall far some formal dancing. Most preferred to mill around at the edges singling out targets for polite interrogation or to share stories.

    "These pastries are genuinely very good." Ian Davion finished a third example. "Fresh produce indeed."

    "Any more and they might need to expand the hatch for your mech." Katrina let slip a little mischief. She was focused on the games at play in such a setting and on the company around her, but she was still feeling distracted without Arthur at hand.

    "Point noted." Ian decided this fourth example would be the last. "I heard your mech was given the same upgrades as mine."

    "It was, a nice showcase for Alliance technology." Katrina confirmed. "It worked. My Generals are demanding five regiments of Alliance Marauders."

    "Then I suppose I'll have the same to keep parity. Whatever you buy, I buy."

    "And vice versa to maintain parity between us." Katrina nodded. "A sign of the trust between our houses."

    "Something in scant supply." Ian scanned the crowd picking out individuals of note. One of them caught his eye and began to head over. "Is that Morgan Kell?"

    "It is." Katrina raised a glass as the dark haired mechwarrior joined them. "My dear Morgan, it's been too long."

    "My Lady." He bowed formally. "And First Prince, an honor once again."

    "You know each other?" Katrina raised an eyebrow.

    "We met very briefly some years ago." Ian half smiled. "Good to see you well."

    "Your husband sends his regards." Morgan delivered his most valuable message to Katrina. "He is back home, arrived just yesterday but he is well. He awaits you with Melissa."

    "I'll be departing tomorrow morning, once my business is done here." She spoke solemnly. "Are you to be my escort, Morgan?"

    "I am, my lady. Arthur was very insistent that I watch over you in his absence."

    Both of them understood that didn't just mean for this journey, but for the remainder of their lives.

    "You have my thanks."

    "And you have my word of honor, Archon."

    She caught a fresh arrival entering the room over Morgan's shoulder, the uniform instantly catching her eye.

    "Well, well." Ian had also seen the arrival. "That looks a lot like Yorinaga Kurita."

    "It is." Katrina confirmed. "Perhaps the Dragon is taking this more seriously then I expected."

    Almost as if fate decreed it, Yorinaga spotted them and walked over, tall and proud in his pristine uniform. He displayed no hesitation in presenting himself before the two most powerful people in the room, bowing formally and receiving nods of respect from the Archon and First Prince.

    "Honored Lords, I am Yorinaga Kurita. I speak today for the Coordinator and offer his respects."

    "Lord Yorinaga." Ian took the lead. "I'm surprised to see you here. I thought you more a field commander?"

    "I am. General Samsonov is the official Ambassador," Yorinaga clarified. "But at such a gathering, it was decided somebody of Kurita blood should be present as a matter of honor."

    "May I introduce my old friend Morgan Kell, Baron of Arc Royal?" Katrina interjected.

    "Always glad to meet a fellow warrior." Kell inclined his head.

    "Likewise." Yorinaga returned the gesture. "I have heard you have much skill. I hope to see it some day."

    "Perhaps I can provide a demonstration." Kell laid down the subtle challenge.

    "That would be most satisfying."

    The two faced each other for a moment longer, taking their measure, then Yorinaga nodded and stepped aside.

    "If you will excuse me, I must offer the Coordinator's greetings to the other Great Lords."

    "Of course." Ian smiled. "Until we meet again."

    "I pray it is soon."

    "Nice man." Kell remarked as the Kuritan warrior departed. "Look forward to killing him."

    "It might not come to that." Katrina observed.

    "It will." Ian sided with Morgan. "Yorinaga is probably the best mechwarrior the Combine has, one of the best there is. The old man didn't send him here on a whim or because he was next on the list for diplomatic functions. He's weighing us up, watching us for clues."

    Katrina studied the possible opponent, the white uniformed man bowing to President Santiago on the far side of the hall. "Presumably you are doing the same?"

    Both men smiled.

    "Against a man that good you need every edge. If something in his personality, his mannerisms, his state of mind can give you that..." Morgan listed. "I'll take it."

    "I consider it an honor he sees us in the same light." Ian grinned widely, drawing a chuckle from Morgan. "And Samsonov as Ambassador is a fair choice, he's an astute politician, devious as they come."

    "Kurita is positioning itself for conflict." Katrina understood. "We didn't expect Takashi to roll over and give up."

    "If he's positioning pawns, then he has a plan." Ian concluded. "Interesting times ahead."

    "Speaking of interesting times..." Katrina took a sip of champagne and directed their attention to the doors. "Something wicked this way comes."

    There was a difference between entering a room and making an entrance, something now demonstrated by Candace Liao. She was wearing enough high grade silks to fund her own space station, edged in gold and accentuated in a variety of jewels. She wore her hair tied up in a traditional style, but with enough tactically loosened curls to give some allure. In a room filled with beauty and opulence, Candace stood apart, exactly as she had meant to.

    Almost as an afterthought, trailing behind her followed her sister Romano and step mother Elizabeth, both also very well presented but naturally not permitted to outshine the Chancellor.

    "All three witches." Katrina smiled. "We are in for a treat."

    "Little dangerous having all three in the same place?" Kell wondered.

    "Just the opposite." Ian answered. "Candace's main threat is her sister, not the likes of us. If she came out here so far from home and left her sister behind with her powerbase, that's a recipe for a coup."

    "That old saying about keeping friends close," Katrina agreed. "I am fortunate in having people I trust to fight for me in my absence and keep the faith. To have no one to trust like that? I feel pity for her."

    "It's their way of life." Ian shrugged. "Unfortunately, she's better at it than her father was. Her House is weakened, but her personal skill and absolute ruthlessness has kept the Confederation together. That will complicate things."

    Candace breezed directly through the middle of the ballroom, forcing the dancers to adjust their steps to clear the way, an obvious power move. Her two companions kept pace behind her, Romano looking uncomfortable in a spotless dress uniform, while Elizabeth kept her eyes open and moving.

    "Mr President." She radiated a smile as she slowed to a halt opposite Santiago, cutting into his current conversation. "My compliments on this achievement, truly a wonder of this age."

    "Chancellor Liao, I shall pass your compliments to the engineers." Santiago gave her his attention, taking the hand she offered. "I'm glad you were able to attend in person. It will be seen as a very important gesture."

    "How could I refuse?" She continued to smile. "A structure of such size and potential offered simply for diplomacy, trade, peaceful negotiation. It is an intriguing idea."

    "Something my predecessor strongly believed in, she is here somewhere if you'd like to discuss specifics?"

    "That won't be necessary, you are the President now and it is you I am interested in speaking to."

    Santiago detected the shift to business. "Did you have something specific in mind?"

    "Our nations did not get off to the best of starts, I think we can both agree to that."

    "Well, the murder and kidnapping wasn't a good opening gesture."

    "Nor was killing sixty thousand residents of Sian."

    "We dispute that number, our strikes were very precise."

    "The point is we have both been wounded, but wounds heal." Candace spoke softly. "If we want to ensure they do not scar, I think it would be in our mutual interest to work on closer ties."

    "I agree wholeheartedly." Santiago nodded along. "That is ultimately why this place exists."

    "I have seen the shipyards the Lyrans have built with your help. I assume the price for such facilities is high, but well worth it."

    "For the right customers, I am sure it is."

    "My trade and development ministers are very keen to open negotiations towards entering a similar partnership," Candace laid out. "What is your price?"

    "it is negotiable." Santiago dodged a specific commitment. "My Ambassador here will be able to handle more. Give him the specifics."

    "Very well." Candace smiled radiantly again. "Perhaps I might visit your world one day very soon? As the Davions and Steiners have?"

    "I think that is possible."

    With a final graceful bow of her head she peeled away, the harsh faced Romano and unreadable Elizabeth doing the same. Imperceptibly, Santiago sighed in relief. The three Liaos were undeniably attractive, but there wasn't an ounce of humanity between them.

    "She's forward, I'll give her that."

    Senator Aki Hidoshi, now Ambassador Hidoshi, offered his own very similar appraisal. Hidoshi had been one of Levy's most trusted confidants and a strong supporter of the Babylon Project. It had seemed only fair to appoint him as the Earth Alliance Ambassador to handle the diplomatic side of things while General Smits kept the station turning.

    "Her step mother is the official Ambassador. Elizabeth Liao, widow of Chancellor Maximillian." Santiago recalled his briefings. "We don't know much about her. Rumour is she was the brains behind old Max. He took all the credit and she bedded half the court behind his back."

    "Charming set of people." Hidoshi watched them mingling, the representative of Kurita offering them a bow which Candace seemed amused by. "I'm going to guess she is here because the new Chancellor wants her out of the way?"

    "Probably, same story as Marik," Santiago reasoned. "Not sure about the Draconis choice. He isn't particularly senior in their ranks by bloodline, but he has achieved a lot of success. He's powerful enough to have influence, but not enough to be a threat."

    "So he might actually be a genuine well thought out appointment?" Hidoshi guessed. "The best man for the job."

    "That might be it." Santiago didn't have any other alternatives. "But that doesn't make him useful or helpful, watch yourself."

    "What about the others?"

    Santiago peered around the room looking for the remaining ambassadors.

    "There's Olivia Fenlon, a Duchess and career diplomat. She's fairly young but has been raised for this kind of role since birth. The Davions have a lot of faith in her."

    Hidoshi spotted a dark haired young woman speaking with General Smits. her easy smile and nature looked natural, but was almost certainly the product of an extremely expensive finishing school.

    "Her father was representative to the Steiner Court and she spent a lot of time over there. The general impression is she greatly favours stronger ties with the Lyrans," Santiago continued. "Her appointment here is considered a signal to the Lyrans that Davion wants to keep improving ties."

    "Who did the Lyrans send?"

    "One Duke Harrison Bradford." Santiago nodded toward a rakish man surrounded by giggling waitresses. "Something of a casanova, but also a talented diplomat and, well as, you can see, quite a charmer."

    "Was it a good idea matching him up with that pretty young Davion woman?" Hidoshi raised an eyebrow. "How professional is he?"

    "I don't know, but he is said to be absolutely trusted by the Archon. That might be enough." The President frowned. "It means Steiner is devoted to this. There aren't many people she really trusts, to send one all the way out here is a significant gesture."

    "Which leaves Anton Marik." Both turned their gaze to the League Ambassador. "Definitely talented, but our trade envoy told me that Duggan Marik was virtually begging for this job and all the business contacts it would bring."

    "Anton is considered a threat. No doubt Janos wants him here so he loses his power base," Santiago reasoned. "That would suggest he doesn't care much for our mission here. We are just a means to an end."

    "I can live with that," Hidoshi accepted. "And then we have Comstar."

    "Not official Ambassadors, but they will have an office on board." Santiago looked over to some robed individuals looking very out of place. "Watch them like a hawk, they have a lot of influence and a lot of contacts. They could be useful, or they could ruin everything we want to achieve here."

    "So noted."

    "Going to be a hell of a job, Aki. Sure you want it?"

    "I'm only here because David Sheridan said no and retired on you." Hidoshi chuckled. "I can handle it. Should be a challenge."

    "More than that." Santiago's eyes wandered across the room. "It might be our best hope of preventing this galaxy from ripping itself apart."

    Story notes: It seems the latest update has broken the threadmarks. Its gonna be fun putting those back...
     
    Chapter 27
  • 27

    Babylon 3
    The following morning
    The First Day of Operations


    "It gives me particular pleasure to sign the first Treaty presented on Babylon 3," Katrina Steiner announced from behind an ancient oak desk set in the grand council chambers. Assorted reporters were gathered ahead of her, electronic eyes watching her every move and gesture. "The updated Ares Conventions, clarifying protocols on the usage of Weapons of Mass Destruction, and restricting the size of fleets that can be deployed within the Inner Sphere."

    She signed her name to the papers arrayed on the desk using an ancient silver pen, her signature as elegant as expected. A round of polite applause met her as she finished, rising to clear the way for Ian Davion to take over and put his name to it. One by one, the representatives of the Great Houses re-affirmed their commitments, with the final signature belonging to Luis Santiago.

    "I feel like I'm missing something." Major Krantz applauded along with the rest of the senior staff, assembled toward the back of the chambers. "Why are we signing this?"

    "Because it makes the different rulers a little more relaxed knowing we promise not to drop a thousand destroyers on them," General Smits spoke quietly through his diplomatic smile. "They know they can't match us. This way they can go home and tell their people there is no danger and everyone can sleep safely in their beds. That's good for them, because when people stop feeling safe in absolute monarchies, they tend to start building guillotines."

    "But why are we reducing our fleets?"

    "We aren't." Smits turned to him. "Look at the text. No nation may deploy a fleet larger than a hundred vessels anywhere within the Inner Sphere."

    "Right."

    "Within the Inner Sphere," Smits repeated. "We aren't in the Inner Sphere. This treaty only covers the territory of the Great Houses, not the Periphery or beyond."

    The various Ambassadors and rulers took some time to shake each others hands for the cameras, smiling and projecting a scene of unity. The most interesting was Santiago and Candace Liao standing shoulder to shoulder, laughing at each other's jokes, the assembled reporters capturing every second, scrutinizing them for hints of rivalry. Both were, of course, far too good to show whatever they were really thinking about each other.

    "This treaty means nothing in our area of operations," Smits dismissed. "The restrictions on nuclear weapons are no different to our existing laws signed after the Dilgar War, but it makes us look like less of a threat. That's Santiago's goal here. We demonstrate our power, show that if we are provoked we can and will drop the hammer on anyone we need to, but by signing up to the Ares Conventions, we show we're not here to slaughter everyone. Then we point out how much money and effort we've invested into this station as a sign of how much we value peaceful diplomacy."

    "Speak softly and carry a big stick." The Major understood. "Bedrock of diplomacy for the last few hundred years."

    "Our goal is peace, but we have to show that our words and promises are backed with enough force to give them weight. Nobody signs a treaty with a nation that doesn't have the power to bring your fears to life. The leaders of each House know what we can do. Now so does everyone watching the news, which will make selling the idea of this station much easier."

    "I suppose it also limits the Inner Sphere to five hundred warships in total," Krantz reasoned. "Last I heard, we were over three thousand."

    "And still accelerating. The Joint Chiefs want at least ten before we even think about going back."

    "If we ever do."

    The ceremony came to a close, releasing the press to head out and file their various reports, while the representatives and rulers retired to yet another brief reception. Smits was beginning to understand why the station had its own vinyards. They were going to go through a lot of wine and champagne if every meeting was bookended by an informal round of drinking. Still, the various Ambassadors seemed used to it, this was effectively just an extension of courtly life. If Smits instead saw the Council Chambers and diplomatic quarter as a form of Earth Alliance Royal Court then it made more sense. It was just the natural habitat of these high born aristocrats. He was no fan of the class system, but it wasn't up to him. Just had to indulge the titles and remember the long term goal. Hidoshi would have the hard job as Ambassador. Smits did not envy him.

    "That's us done, head down to security and check up on the situation." The General set to work. "The big names will start leaving this evening. Make sure it goes smoothly."

    "Got it, sir."

    "I'll be in the fancy ballroom, smiling at people we should probably be putting in prison." Smits grimaced. "It's about to get very busy for us. We start business operations next week. I'm expecting full occupancy by the end of next month."

    "We've never had that many people on a station before. Let's hope those radiators are as good as advertised." Krantz winced. "We never got round to testing them at full capacity."

    "Put it on the list of potential disasters." Smits took a moment to reflect on his job. "Stick it under religious terrorism, but above face melting aliens."

    "You know, there's a pool going around the crew about how long we'll last out here," his First Officer brought up gingerly. "People are a little worried, I mean, we're a long way from home here. If something does go wrong, its going to be two months until a rescue force arrives."

    "Put me down for a hundred credits on forever," Smits responded. "Put yourself down for that too. Show a little confidence, Major. Besides if we're wrong, at least we'll never have to pay up."


    Candace Liao was about halfway through the gardens leading to the Ballroom, where a small formal luncheon had been provided, when she spotted her stalker once again. She rolled her eyes hard, but concluded ignoring the problem wasn't going to make it go away.

    "Go on ahead," she told her entourage. "I just want to absorb the scenery a little. Give me a few minutes."

    They nodded and went on their way, any doubts or concerns buried beneath absolute obedience. Exactly what she wanted in her servants. There was a place for people who spoke their mind and she appreciated that in her advisors, more so than her father did at least. But in her handmaidens and bodyguards, all she wanted was blind loyalty and an IQ not quite in the triple digits. Too many leaders had been stabbed in the back by their chambermaids or praetorians. If they were stupid, it at least gave her a bit more of a chance.

    She strolled off the gravel path and stopped to appreciate some flowers, making a scene of leaning in to examine their scent and color while waiting for her shadow to catch up.

    "Lady Liao, I've been trying to talk with you since yesterday!"

    "It is Chancellor Liao." She spoke matter of factly, making her ire apparent. "And I know, which is why I've been avoiding you."

    "Why? Are you backing out on our deal?"

    "No, Anton, I am not." Candace straightened up but still looked at the flowers. "But if anyone notices you and I having a deep and meaningful conversation together, it will raise questions. The fact I have to explain this to you is not inspiring confidence in your political acumen."

    "Let them talk, there's no evidence." Anton Marik sneered at the imaginary gossips. "Everyone knows your father was planning on marrying you off to me anyway."

    "Happily, he didn't. It would have ended badly."

    "What do you mean? Are you saying I'm not good enough for you?"

    She chortled a high pitched laugh, raising a hand to her mouth as she finally looked at him with laughing eyes.

    "I wouldn't let you marry my dogs. I wouldn't let you marry the girl who paints my toenails. I wouldn't even let you marry Romano. If we had been forced to marry, I would have been widowed within a few months. So when I say it would have ended badly, I don't mean for me."

    There was a flash of anger in Anton Marik, a long stoked rage that he carefully managed and dampened down, replacing it with a slanted smile.

    "That old Liao charm, always so popular at parties."

    "We have an arrangement, Duke Marik. I haven't forgotten. It remains mutually beneficial."

    "Really? Because now I'm out here, while my allies are back home," he growled. "If you had supported my bid for power when you had the chance..."

    "What chance?" She glared back. "My resources are stretched thin. I am still fighting Ian fucking Davion over Chesterton. I am not ready to commit to backing you until all the pieces are in place."

    "Like what? What are we waiting for?"

    "More mercenaries, for a start. Comstar is vetting and deploying as many as they can. Turns out running the Mercenary Review Board gives them a lot of influence over the jobs those mercs take. I'll give you an army, even if it isn't strictly mine."

    "You think mercs are enough?"

    "Wolf's Dragoons will lead them. It will be enough," Candace promised. "If what you say is true, the worlds of the League will eagerly embrace their dynamic new leader. You'll have Janos' head in a couple of months of light fighting. If what you say is true."

    "I know my people," Anton confirmed. "Janos is despised, only his closest inner circle will back him. I could probably do it with one regiment."

    "Let's use my mercenaries, just to be sure."

    He looked over his shoulder at a noise, relaxing when all he saw was a bird.

    "Just don't take too long."

    "It will take however long it takes, but it will happen," Candace assured. "Just remember my price. I will make you the next Captain General, and in return you give me a fully operational Earth Alliance shipyard."

    "Not an issue, we have three of them under construction."

    "Fully operational," she emphasized. "With all technical support and necessary instruction."

    "Yes, yes, you'll have it." He sighed. "Just make it soon. I can't stay on this place while my people need me."

    Candace went back to staring at the flowers, smiling slightly as she reflected on the relationship between IQ and people she used. "You don't understand it yet, do you, Anton? What this place is?"

    "A talking shop for people who will never agree with each other."

    "A crossroads," Candace corrected. "There are other neutral worlds, but not so perfectly positioned. One jump from each major house, a direct link to all that implies. Your nephew Duggan understood some of that. He wanted to be here, because he could sense the money. He wanted to use this place to make contacts, arrange deals, open opportunities with countless people he would not otherwise meet. You should be embracing that."

    "I'll be rich enough when I am Captain General."

    "Not business contacts." She held her smile, amused more by him than for him. "This place will become famous for deals, but not those signed in the open. This is where you make clandestine pacts, meet with allies who wish to remain secret, make deals similar to the one we have. This place will make that so much easier. You won't need to go through Comstar or rely on friends of a friend. The opportunities and contacts this place will offer are enticing beyond words. That is why I am offering this place my full support, not because I want to be friends with the Alliance, but because this place is about to become the biggest hive of intrigue and illicit information in the galaxy. You are sitting right in the middle of it. Use it."

    "I will, but this is just a stepping stone to my real goal."

    "I understand." She kept smiling. "Everything is just a stepping stone for people like us."


    "No, I swear I saw it with my own eyes, he was definitely an alien." Ian Davion gestured with the wine glass in his hand, the liquid sloshing dangerously close to the rim. "He looked human on the outside, but when he took off his shirt he had these..." He noticed Katrina raising an eyebrow. "Appendages."

    "What sort of appendages?" Ambassador Bradford was utterly engrossed in the story.

    "Well, he said they were, well..."

    "Part of his reproductive system." Katrina spared the First Prince some embarrassment.

    "You mean they were..."

    "Yes." Katrina definitely enjoyed surprising Bradford. "Six of them."

    "Six?" His mind worked through options. "Wait, does that mean their females have six, you know?"

    "Apparently so."

    "And these Centauri are well known for hedonism?"

    "So they say," Ian confirmed.

    Bradford tightened his lips and lifted his chin. "My Lady Archon, please promise me that if they ever go home, you'll let me go with them."

    "And never see you again?"

    "It's a sacrifice I'm willing to make."

    "Are you sure? Six is rather a high number."

    "I consider it the moment I have been training all my life for."

    "Sounds like some of the sordid rumours you hear from Canopus," Ambassador Olivia Fenlon dismissed, a little flustered.

    "I think I've definitely seen a very similar plot in a Canopian movie." Bradford grinned widely. "When I was very young, of course."

    "Of course," Katrina played along. "I had heard you were a connoisseur of Canopian cinema."

    "It was enlightening in my younger years," Bradford admitted. "But I've since learned the most important lesson of the game. It isn't meant to be a spectator sport."

    That brought a brief laugh from Katrina, the Archon taking a drink to mask it.

    "If you'll excuse me, Archon, I need to speak with President Santiago." Ian began to move. "Olivia, I'll need your help."

    "Of course." She bowed. "Archon."

    "Ambassador."

    She watched them move off to intercept the Alliance leader, leaving her with her old friend.

    "Thank you." She said simply.

    "You looked like you needed a bit of a laugh." Bradford relaxed, with the two of them alone, they were just old friends catching up. "How are you holding up?"

    "It's hell." She answered honestly, painfully blunt. "I'm going to live, but Arthur isn't."

    "There's nothing I can say you haven't already raked over a thousand times. There isn't a reason, it just is." He spoke just as plain. "No one to blame, no retribution to be had, no great lesson to be learned or some strength to be found. It's going to happen, and that's it."

    Katrina stared into her drink for a long moment. He was right, in the end she had been forced to come to much the same conclusion. There was nothing to do beside accepting it.

    "I have learned something. I learned the value of time and how to spend it." She made her answer. "And who I spend it with."

    "Hope you mean me there?"

    She met his smile in kind. "I suppose you'll do as a friend." She made a show of begrudgingly agreeing. "There's so much I want to do, and this has made me realize I'll never be able to do it all. I'm going to die unfulfilled because what I wanted most, to grow old with my love, will never happen."

    "But you do have Melissa."

    "I do, and I have promised to leave her a Commonwealth worthy of Arthur. She will rule in peace and prosperity, I will make sure of that."

    "I hope so, you have my absolute devotion. Whatever I can do, I will."

    "That's why you are here," Katrina stated simply. "There is a war coming. Kurita isn't going to sit back and let himself fade into irrelevance. I'm also sure Liao is up to something."

    "Sounds like a Liao, good for nothing but up to something."

    "Either way, you are on the frontlines here. If something is going to happen, you'll see it first here," Katrina recognised. "I need you to stay on top of events."

    "Using my natural wit and charm?"

    "Whatever it takes." Katrina didn't hide her intent. "Elizabeth Liao is going to throw herself at you, I guarantee it. You have a reputation as a lothario, trying to fight getting old by fucking anything with a pulse. She'll see you as pathetic and will try to use you as a font of information."

    "Oh, don't sugar coat it to try and make me feel better will you?" He made a pained expression.

    "Stop it." She elbowed him. "We've been building this reputation for you for years, all for this moment. She'll try to use you, make sure you use her instead. This might be the most important hate fuck in the history of the galaxy."

    "Happy to be doing my part for the Commonwealth." Bradford raised his glass. "She'll kill me if she figures it out."

    "Absolutely, so don't let her." Katrina gave him a look. "I'm not burying any more friends. Not you, not the Kells, no one. Am I clear?"

    "As crystal."

    "Get me what I need from the Capellans, and be careful. Heaven knows where she's been."



    "As I said before Primus, the Alliance is perfectly happy for you to install a HPG on the upper docking bay." General Smits spoke indulgently. "We've got the spare power, we've got the space, but I'm not going to allow anyone to tie anything into my station without my engineers understanding what it does."

    "I'm afraid that is impossible, General." Primus Julian Tiepolo sighed apologetically. "The system is proprietary technology. We can't share the secrets of its operation outside the followers of Blake."

    "That's a real shame."

    "Of course, if you were to allow Comstar technicians to examine your computer and communication grids, then we could ensure a smooth integration."

    "I think you know the answer to that, Primus."

    "Then we find ourselves back where we started, but at least with understanding." Tiepolo laughed a little. "We are still new to each other, it will take time to trust. I hope that we can start that process here, today."

    "That is why we are here, Primus. Actually, the President was very keen to grant Comstar some premises beside the Post Office," Smits relayed. "We both offer valuable services delivering across distances."

    "Well, I suppose that is true. It will make our mission a little difficult, but I appreciate the offer of free usage of your Tachyon system."

    "A gesture of good will. Just encode your messages, send them to the nearest planet to the destination that has an HPG and go from there." Smits considered the arrangement. "You know, you'll probably cut transmission times significantly if half the journey is done by tachyon relay."

    "Yes." Tiepolo smiled thinly. "How incredibly helpful."

    He tilted as he was joined by another robed figure, the man inclining his head to Tiepolo.

    "Greetings of Blake to you, Primus."

    "The Clarity of his Word to you," Tiepolo returned. "General Smits, this is Precentor Alain Giscard. He will operate the office here."

    "I am humbled General, and I look forward to deepening the understanding between us."

    "I hope so," Smits allowed. "A Precentor is quite a senior rank, isn't it?"

    "A reflection of the value we place on this mission," the Primus answered. "Your goal is a noble one, and we share it. Enabling peace through understanding aligns with the teachings of Blake."

    "Blake being your founder?" Smits recalled.

    "Correct, and I am sure Precentor Giscard will happily teach all you need to know about his life and wisdom."

    "It would be an absolute pleasure."

    "I have no doubt." Smits recoiled inside, but hid it well. Lectures from religious devotees was why he had swapped Utah for the absolute depths of space. "If there's anything you need, within reason, let me know."

    "My subordinates are due to arrive tomorrow from Terra," Giscard spoke, both to Smits and Tiepolo. "I hope to begin work soon after."

    "Diplomatic signals will likely be point to point, from here to the homeworlds by tachyon relay," Smits explained. "Civilian traffic is their business. They can come to your office or apply to the local embassy to package their messages with diplomatic traffic."

    "An inevitable consequence," Tiepolo accepted. "But I hope our reputation and long history of handling communications galaxy wide will ensure the vast bulk of traffic remains ours."

    "That's a matter for business. I just keep the lights on." Smits smiled. "You don't deliver parcels do you? Because the Post Office, well, they get really territorial."

    "Do they have weapons?" Giscard spoke a little too fast earning a fierce glare from Tiepolo.

    "If you've ever met a Post Master, you'd know they don't need them."

    "So I wanted to ask about your homeworld," the Primus redirected deftly. "Is it true? That you are from a sister dimension?"

    "Essentially yes, and before you ask, I don't know." Smits held up his hands in surrender. "I don't understand the how or why, it just happened. Somebody screwed up the math somewhere and here we are."

    "With your fleets of warships." Giscard noted. "Why do you keep them?"

    "I don't understand?"

    "You don't need them here. There are no warships anywhere in the Inner Sphere."

    "Not yet," Smits observed.

    "What I believe the Precentor means is, with the sheer expense, why keep an active force?" Tiepolo rephrased. "It must cost you to build and maintain them, to fuel them, to keep crews and train new ones. Why go to the expense when they are unneeded? Or at least you only need a handful of units?"

    "Because it takes time to build a fleet, to train them. If we ever did need those ships and we'd let them go, then we'd be in trouble," Smits replied. "It's not just the money or numbers, it's the knowledge, the techniques. We already lost a lot of that institutional knowledge to the Minbari War. We have to preserve what's left."

    "But why so many? Do you really need more than your ten best ships?"

    Smits thought about it for a moment before finding an answer.

    "Evil," he said simply.

    "Evil?" Tiepolo frowned. "I'm not sure I follow?"

    "Just Evil, plain and simple." The General continued in plain tones. "We like to think we're a more civilised people than our ancestors, more learned and educated than those who founded our cultures. We like to think we know how things really are, the realities of sentient life, the nuances and shades of grey. There is no good or bad, just a scale of choices and consequences. Moral absolutes are just a relic of a primitive time when people didn't have our understanding of the bigger picture."

    Smit's eyes grew harder.

    "But there is evil. Pure, irredeemable old testament evil. It is real, it is out there and it wants you to die screaming. I've seen it, seen it twice in just the last twenty years of my career. I've fought it and I have seen up close what it does to those who can't stop it. You are lucky. If you had seen the same thing, served in our wars, you'd know it too. I learned that there is nothing and there is no one who is going to fight it for you. You are all alone in that night, so you better be damn well ready when that evil shows up on your doorstep. You think we have too many ships?"

    Smits shook his head.

    "We don't even have close to enough for the job we need to finish."[/hr][/hr]
     
    Chapter 28
  • 28

    Cooperland Colony
    Alliance Space

    "How do you even live like this?"

    Angela Ginelli had to put her shoulder to the door to push it open, forcing it against the piles of clothing and discarded papers amassed behind it. This wasn't the first time. Odds were good that it wouldn't be the last.

    "I'm still getting organised!" The carefree voice of Cranston Snord bounced from somewhere deeper in his home. "Just need a little more time."

    "You've been here two years!"

    "And I'm still getting organised!" He called back. "I've got a lot of things to sort out, don't want to miss anything."

    "You need a bulldozer and a dump truck." She squeezed through the doorway, flattening herself as much as possible and watching her step.

    "These are treasures dearheart, artefacts that tell the tale of human culture." Cranston was still not visible. "Would you have taken a dump truck to King Tut's Tomb? Or bulldozed the Terracotta Army because it was taking up space?"

    "No, I guess not." She frowned and picked up a flat case from the floor. "But I don't think the 'Howard the Duck' movie is up there with the Lost Ark."

    "It is if it's the original! A trailblazer, Angela!"

    Cranston emerged from another room, arms full of detritus, which he carefully laid down on an already busy desk. His house looked like a dragon's hoard, if a dragon had taken a liking to obscure pieces of art and items from random points in history. He had pictures of famous paintings on his walls, things Ginelli could recognise and appreciate, but also things she thought pushed the boundaries of cultural treasures.

    "Everyone has their own taste, lollipop. I don't judge, everything is beautiful to someone." Cranston gingerly walked over toward the scientist. "One day I'll put all this stuff in a museum. It'll be great, maybe even build it right here on Cooperland."

    "That might actually be pretty nice." She looked around at the eclectic collection, most of it centuries old. "Where did you get all this stuff anyway?"

    "Here and there." He shrugged. "So, you didn't come here to marvel at my collection."

    "No but, well, it's got everything, hasn't it?" She peered around. "Like shoes. Why do you have shoes?"

    "Shoes? Oh my sweet bundle of science, those are not merely shoes."

    "They are blue suede shoes." She read the tag in front of them.

    "No honey, they are the Blue Suede Shoes. From the Twentieth Century. Elvis?"

    She stared at them with a frown, something clicking in her memory. "I think I saw on the news there was an auction of historic musical items."

    "Oh, yes, I think so."

    "Some shoes, a guitar owned by a John Cash, some massive boots from a guy with his face painted like a cat."

    "Is that so?" He shuffled suspiciously to his left automatically drawing Ginelli's eye.

    "Looked a lot like that guitar. And those massive silver boots."

    "What a strange coincidence."

    "I'm pretty sure the news said they were stolen in transit after the auction." She glared at him. "Cranny, have you done something a bit naughty?"

    "No, of course not." He smiled. "I'm saving treasures here, all those things were bought by rich hoarders who would just shove them in a room with all their other stuff and lock them away!"

    She gave him a look of disbelief, then waved her arms around her head.

    "You mean like all this?"

    "Yes, no, I meant what I said. All this stuff belongs in a museum." Cranston smiled widely. "I'm just a little hazy on which museum."

    "You need to give this stuff back, stealing is wrong." Ginelli wagged her finger.

    "I have never stolen anything in my life. I preserve the future for all mankind," Cranston defended, wounded by the accusation. "Everything here belongs in a museum. My museum. Eventually.

    "I won't say anything because I may have borrowed things and misplaced them."

    "Like your entire solar system?"

    "It's not as bad as taking..." She looked at his desk, "...David Bowie's trousers from Labyrinth, I mean what? But I'll just leave it to your conscience."

    "Well, in that case honey, I'll definitely be doing the right thing."

    "Anyway, Anna needs you outside. More finds for you to identify."

    "My absolute pleasure sweetness, lead on."



    Anna Sheridan was running down the checklist on her data slate when Cranston Snord showed up, loping over toward her on his long legs. Snord and his unit of Irregulars had been sent over by Archon Steiner a couple of years ago now to help Earth Force figure out basic battlemech tactics and doctrine. To say they were an unusual assortment of mechwarriors did not quite cover the sheer, distilled crazy often demonstrated by the team, but oddities aside, they were as skilled as Katrina had promised and their unorthodox methods has been valuable in training new pilots.

    From time to time, they would leave to perform a mission for the Lyrans, usually returning with more supply crates than they had left with, which raised eyebrows. Command allowed them a lot latitude as outside contractors, but also had kept them isolated on Cooperland. Or at least so they had imagined.

    Aside from training duties , Cranston had also shown himself quite an expert on history, and historical artefacts. This had helped a lot when it came to filling in gaps regarding historical points of divergence between the two versions of humanity, but more practically, it meant whenever Anna's team found something special, they would run it by him. Today counted.

    "Hey Doc, beautiful sunny day." He strolled over the grass outside the EA Research Complex to join her, the shiny steel and glass compound the home of EA Offworld sciences. "If we're outside, does that mean you've got something serious to look at?"

    "Exactly right, Mr Snord." Anna nodded in greeting. "How was your time off?"

    "It was great. Didn't go far, just up to Tortuga."

    "Not Earth?"

    "We both know Doc that travel to Earth is highly restricted and needs a ton of permits."

    "Or crossing the right hands with some gold?"

    "As an honest warrior, I wouldn't even know where to start." Cranston stuck out his chin and shrugged. "I just don't associate with such dodgy characters."

    "Right."

    Anna didn't believe a word, but Cranston was at least proving to be an absolutely invaluable source of information. She was pretty confident the Earth Force liaison team that worked with Snord's Irregulars was about 80% EFNI or EIA undercover agents, so if he was up to something , he'd have a lot of eyes on him. Presumably his usefulness outweighed his security risk, for now.

    Once again, she would put him to the test. Their targets this time were crumpled up on the back of a pair of wide bodied transport trucks making their way across the wide concrete sliproads, toward the attached mech hangers where Ginelli's engineers worked their magic. Flanking the trucks were two Marauders, one carrying the familiar Daffy Duck nose art, the other a heavily armed gun toting cartoon eagle.

    "Oh yeah, this is the good stuff." Cranston was already grinning as the trucks halted temporarily beside them. "You got them from the dig?"

    "That's right, on the outskirts of the old capital." Anna confirmed. "Heavy mechs, but they are pretty mangled, probably caught in the nuclear strike that destroyed the city, then buried over the centuries."

    "They definitely won't be walking again." Cranston started to move closer. "But they seem to be mostly complete. Give me a minute, but I think these are rare ones. Worthy of a museum."

    As Cranston began his examinations the two mechs came to a halt and crouched, powering down and dropping rope ladders to disembark their pilots. The first was naturally Michael Garibaldi, now rejoining his unit after hosting Ian Davion, the second was Collette Ferro, his Company commander. Ferro's machine also had a passenger, a scrawny girl who scrambled down the ladder a lot faster than most kids her age would, her wild pink hair and dark makeup looking wild and outlandish.

    "Hey Rhonda, how was the run?" Cranston called over. "You break anything?"

    "No!" She rolled her eyes. "And it was okay, did some piloting."

    "Your little gremlin here is pretty damn good." Ferro messed up Rhonda's hair. "Got a mech pilot in the making."

    "Mechwarrior." She quickly corrected. "And yeah, you're pretty good too."

    "Pretty good?" Ferro grinned. "I'll take that. Come hit the mess when you're done, got ice cream with your name on it."

    "I'm not a kid, I don't need ice cream."

    "Okay, I won't save you any."

    Rhonda pouted. "I suppose a little would be fine."

    "Don't take too long."

    Anna gave Captain Ferro a carefully hidden grin, one returned by the officer. Rhonda Snord had arrived with her father and usually remained behind when he departed on adventures. She'd grown up quite a lot on the base and had bonded with the test unit, who had effectively adopted her as part of the team. Despite being thirteen years of age, she'd proven surprisingly talented in the simulators and had started going on exercises with the EF mechs. While she would likely end up joining the Irregulars once she was old enough, Ferro was pitching for her to join Earth Force instead.

    "Hey, Rhonda, don't forget I got something for you after lunch." Garibaldi strolled past. "You know that music you like?"

    "Yeah, it's Metal Mikey."

    "Right, Metal." Garibaldi nodded. "Well an old buddy of mine got me the full works of a band called Sabaton. Definitely your kind of thing."

    "Maybe." She tried to be cool but was clearly intrigued. "I'll check them out."

    "It's just a phase!" Cranston shouted from behind the trucks. "She'll be back to the Beach Boys next month."

    "It's not a phase dad, Metal is life!" She shouted back.

    "Come see me and Angela later." Garibaldi grinned. "Oh, hey, wear that mask when you come to the door."

    "The fiery stone head thing you gave me?"

    "That's it, scare the hell out of her."

    Anna gave him a wry sideways look. "Is this how you treat the ones you love, Michael?"

    "I owe her for hiding all my socks last week. How do you even have the time to do that? I'm still finding them in random places. Like how do you get a sock up a flagpole?"

    "Amazing stuff, Caffeine." Anna grinned widely. "She's in the lab running numbers."

    "Still working on hyperspace huh?" Garibaldi shrugged. "Dangerously smart woman, stubborn as all hell. Perfect addition to the Garibaldi family." He chuckled. "Remember, Sabaton!"

    "Got it Mikey!"

    Cranston wandered back from his examination, smiling at his daughter as she joined Anna.

    "How was the Marauder? Good solid machine, right?"

    "Yeah, pretty cool." Rhonda allowed nonchalantly. "Kinda want a Shadowhawk though."

    "I'll see what I can find for your sixteenth," Cranston promised. "So, Doc, want the good news?"

    "By all means."

    "Once upon a time, these were some high end machines. Not much good now, they're all locked up, heavy corrosion, the electrics are gone and everything's cracked or scrammed. But the core chassis and frames are there, and as far as I can see, so are all the components."

    "What are they?"

    "Well, that's a Nightstar, and that is an Atlas Two." He pointed to the respective vehicles. "Both Star League Assault Mechs, top tier warmachines. I'd guess they were the command Lance for whatever unit got nuked out here. Frankly I can see why, fighting these guys would be a son of a bi..." He remembered Rhonda. "Birch. Real son of a birch."

    "So you think it's worth sending them to R&D?" Anna asked. "Or just for targets?"

    "Oh, no no no, not these." Cranston shook his head emphatically. "You can't smash these up. Get your guys to take them apart, see how they work, then I'll bolt them back together and put them on display. One day."

    "Fair enough." She tapped a few controls on her slate assigning them to the research squad. Her IPX team had pulled up quite a few mechs and tanks from the ruins of whoever had owned this planet, mostly Star League era gear. Most of it was too wrecked to be anything other than target practice, but sometimes they struck gold. Nothing worked of course, but if the relics she had found were intact enough, they could be copied for future use. "I'll put them with the Land/Air mechs."

    "You're going to love them," Cranston promised happily. "Maybe, if you do make your own, you might want to sell a couple to your old friends in the Irregulars?"

    "Not my department, but I can put in a good word."

    She was interrupted by the light but pointed sound of someone clearing their throat behind her, a sound followed by a feminine voice speaking her name.

    "Doctor Anna Sheridan? Laurel Takashima, Earth Force New Technologies."

    Waiting for Anna was an extremely young looking Asian woman in Earth Force blues. She was smiling widely and offered her hand, which Anna took with a nod.

    "Lieutenant." Anna had spent enough time around the military to know rank and divisions. "Something I can help you with?"

    "Quite possibly, Doctor Sheridan. Can we speak in private for a few minutes?"

    "I suppose so." She threw a glance at Cranston, the grizzled warrior apparently immersed in surveying the new wrecks but almost certainly trying to catch every word. "My office is on the first floor."

    Takashima followed Anna's lead, an aide carrying a large case keeping pace behind them. Both military officers kept their eyes moving, marking exits, blind spots, locations that could hide danger. It struck Anna as a little paranoid, but perhaps it was a way of life for these soldiers, looking for constant threats. Her office was cluttered but organised, Anna clearing enough space on her desk for Takashima's associate to lay his case down.

    "We're here to speak with you specifically Doctor, because your doctoral research was on unusual mineral traces on one of the outer planets in the Narn Home System." The young officer began. "Do you still have a clear recollection of that?"

    "Yes, crystal clear." Anna took up a position on the far side of her desk. "We found some scattered material, extremely unusual."

    Takashima nodded to her subordinate who cracked open the case.

    "Anything like this?"

    Within the case carefully isolated and contained within an artificial diamond cylinder was a chunk of jet black material, as dark as obsidian, but with none of its reflective properties. It was much blacker than carbon, appearing more as a hole in the world than anything else. Anna knew it immediately.

    "Yes, that matches what I remember, though I'd need to put it under a microscope."

    "We ran our own analysis." She handed over a data crystal. "But before you take a look, I must remind you this matter is classified."

    "Understood." Anna took the crystal and slotted it into her desk top console. It loaded up fast, the data matching what she remembered but in far higher fidelity. Technology must have improved.

    "A match, Doctor?" Takashima pressed breaking Anna's immersion.

    "Yes, that looks right."

    "What can you tell me about it, so I can summarise it for my superiors."

    "Well, the samples we found were scattered on a lifeless dwarf planet in the Narn System, as you know. They were laying on the surface, so our guess was they didn't originate there. Some of us guessed it was from a ship at first, but this molecular structure didn't match any alloy."

    "A mineral then? An asteroid?"

    "No, the composition of elements didn't appear natural, too evenly distributed in the samples. It appeared manufactured, but it wasn't an alloy or some sort of compound. And the structure, it wasn't solid, it was porous, filled with channels and tunnels. Our xenobiologist thought it looked like muscle tissue, but obviously not organic. It's metals and minerals."

    "Very curious." Takashima considered. "Did you detect any nanotechnology?"

    "No, but we didn't have the equipment to look in the field. We sent samples back home and that was all I heard about it." Anna looked at the sample. "Until now. Is it worth asking what this is about?"

    "We found this in the archives, but it wasn't labelled." Takashima smiled. "It had your name assigned to it. It must be one of your samples from that Narn expedition a decade ago. We'll file it properly now. Thanks for your help, Doctor."

    The silent assistant slammed the case shut and locked it, Takashima pulling the data crystal from the computer that automatically wiped itself of any stored data.

    "You traveled a long way for just a quick identity check." Anna engaged conversationally, her eyes alert for any hints of information. "You need anything else?"

    "No, not at all." Takashima continued to smile. "My superiors didn't want something potentially deadly sitting in the basement. You know how things can go wrong with strange alien artefacts."

    "Artefacts, not minerals?"

    "Turn of phrase." Takashima remained pleasant, only the very tiniest flicker of annoyance crossing behind her gaze. "Thank you again Doctor, and please remember this entire interaction is classified, even from your husband."

    "So noted. I suppose I should get back to work then."

    "No rest for the wicked." The officer grinned marginally wider. "Pleasant day, Doctor Sheridan."

    The two officers left, Anna pondering the meeting for a moment. She was definitely lying, but why? Had they discovered something about this object and wanted to confirm its origin? Did they want to check if she knew more than had been in her papers? There was a lot that didn't make sense. The objects had been an enigma both to the research team and the Narn, but the expedition had found itself cancelled before any discoveries were made. Shut down by the future Ambassador G'Kar, apparently. No reason had been given, but he had sounded very spooked when he had wished them a safe and swift voyage home.

    No doubt someone in New Technologies or IPX had started messing around with things they didn't understand again. At least this time, she was well away from it. She did not envy the team trying to get results for those slave drivers.

    Outside Takashima slid into her plain government issued sedan, her assistant taking the driver's seat and setting off for their next destination. She tapped the in-car communication system, the screen flickering as it tapped into a rotating encryption before connecting to her boss.

    "Four." A blank voice responded.

    "Sample is confirmed identical to the ones from Narn. The warnings from Kha'ri Representative G'Kar are also a match, his description of the vessel from his historic books seem accurate."

    "They were from his religious texts, his bible, not historic fact." Four corrected. "Still, this is not a coincidence. The timeline matches. This is likely a similar ship to the ones Narn myth references."

    "Multiple League religions and stories speak of similar beings from that era," Takashima informed. "Soldiers of Darkness, demons that hunt unseen, devils descending from the stars."

    "Tall tales, but perhaps there is something to it," her director considered. "Return to Mars, monitor the situation within Mars Dome One. Watch Earth Force and inform me if they start asking questions."

    "I thought we owned the local military?"

    "Only ground forces and naval intelligence, enough to secure the site but not enough to stop people asking questions."

    "Understood, Eighteen out."

    The screen went black, her task complete. She had only a vague idea what was happening. Only a few people knew the truth and that was just how it was. For now, she had a new task, a fresh mission, another opportunity to excel. One day, she'd be the one giving orders, seeing the full picture, directing humanity to greatness at any price. She was ready for it, she just had to prove she was worthy.



    Syria Planum
    Mars

    "We are slipping behind schedule." Four said bluntly, his attention never on anything beside the job. His single mindedness was deliberate, he quite literally had no concern beyond this one task. That was how he had been programmed. Agent Kelsey had tried to quietly scan him and had found nothing, no history, no home life, no wishes or desires beyond the current task. He was an automaton, but retained the creativity and ingenuity of a human being. It was a little chilling, even to the Psi Cop. Whoever had reset this man's mind had been extremely capable.

    "The drills keep wearing down before they can make much of an impact." She checked through the latest series of reports. "The hull of the alien ship is impervious to laser and plasma cutters. It just soaks up the energy and barely registers a rise in local temperature. Earth Force New Technologies Division at Fort McHenry are trying to rig a naval plasma cannon as a makeshift plasma torch, and IPX are flying in a tunnel boring machine. They might have a better chance."

    "Or they might not." Four exhaled. "Something built this ship, and whatever did must have needed a way in. Even if just for maintenance, there has to be access somewhere."

    "All our scans show the vessel is completely smooth, down to the micron." Kelsey shook her head. "No hatches, no panels, no weld lines, no variations at all. IPX still has no idea how it was built. The current theory is that it was grown."

    "It has internal components though. We've detected power, and initially a signal, correct?"

    "Yes sir, a signal beamed to a world in far space, uncharted." Kelsey confirmed. "IPX is already gathering funds for an expedition."

    "We don't have time to wait for that. Tell me about the telepaths."

    That was an unpleasant situation. Kelsey was fully committed to her task, to increasing the power of Earth at any cost. While her loyalty was to the Corps above all else, the Corps was part of Earth, and if humanity died, so too would its telepaths. Earth needed more power, and there would have to be sacrifices, including some from within the Corps.

    "They are uncomfortable. They all report difficulty sleeping, migraines, a steady low level feeling of being under attack."

    "And you?"

    "The same. My defences are stronger, so it isn't having a negative effect, not yet. But it will, given enough time."

    "So there's a telepathic element to this ship?"

    "Perhaps, or maybe it's just telepaths are better attuned to detecting variations deeper into the EM spectrum than mundane humans."

    Four took no offence at the label, he had no ego or pride to be wounded.

    "Send one to scan the ship," he ordered. "A telepathic scan, see if they really can sense outside the spectrum of our scanners."

    "I'll remind you, sir, that one of the workers excavating this vessel accidentally touched it and died instantly. The autopsy gave no clue how."

    "The telepaths assigned here were listed as expendable. Aside from you, of course," Four noted. "Though that may change if the lower rated telepaths fail. Expending a P-12 may become necessary."

    "I'll begin assignments." Kelsey kept an even expression, but knew with certainty it was true. Department Sigma wouldn't hesitate to kill her if it meant unlocking this alien power.

    "Keep me informed." Four went back to work and gave her no more attention, his focus on the papers scattered across his desk. No animosity, no resentment, no regrets or hatred, just clarity of purpose. He was sending people to their deaths with the calm of a man ordering lunch and for Kelsey, that void of feeling was worse than if he had simply hated teeps.

    She tapped her link and activated a secure channel.

    "Miss Winters, Mr Kraski, report to the expeditions building."



    "I hate this thing." Talia Winters stared up at what was assumed to be the front of the ship, like spines jabbing out hundreds of metres above her, the hastily built dome sitting overhead giving them a safe breathable environment. Around her, engineers were heading to their buildings as the shifts began to change, dragging their tools behind them. There had been no progress in the last month and people were getting tired and frustrated. The science team she was supporting were still enthusiastic, still driving at the problem of discovering more about this incredible ship, but even they were starting to be ground down by dead end after dead end.

    "Sooner we're done the better." Peter Kraski shared her revulsion. It seemed that whenever they got closer to the ship, their anxiety and frustrations grew, making them increasingly short tempered. It was as if the ship itself hated them, that it was a poison to their minds. All the telepaths thought the same way, but they had a contract to fulfill with a serious payday at the end of it. That was worth a few headaches.

    "What's the plan?"

    "We'll just get close and try scan it as we would a person." He shrugged. "Seems a bit of a waste of time, but we get paid. Whatever."

    "Maybe they think there's still someone inside?" Talia suggested, her eyes widening at the idea. "Someone in stasis maybe, in a freezer they want us to wake up?"

    "I hadn't though of that." Kraski nodded. "Yeah, maybe. But let's just do a quick check for now."

    "Right, play it safe." The young blonde peered over the jet black hull. "Where do we start?"

    "Under the centre of mass."

    Both strolled underneath the ship, its hull blocking the faint sunlight above them. Electric lights lit their way, a few vehicles laden with scanners sitting around where work crews had left them. Talia noted they were the only two people out under the dome, a realisation that began pushing her unease. It was a shift change, but that didn't usually mean a complete abandonment of the workspace.

    "Shouldn't we have some scientists out here?" She raised the question with her older companion. "To monitor if something happens?"

    "They didn't send any." He kept walking. "No harm in asking."

    Talia was getting a lot more uncomfortable about this. She tapped her link. "Winters to Doctor Kirkish, are you monitoring us?"

    "We are." A different voice crackled back. "Everything is normal."

    "Who is that?"

    "It's Agent Kelsey." The Psi Cop responded curtly. "Is there a problem?"

    "Shouldn't we have scientists out here if this is an experiment?"

    "It's not an experiment, there's no scientific basis for this, it's just something that seemed logical while we have telepaths at the base."

    "So we're just throwing ideas at the wall and seeing what sticks?" Kraski coughed a laugh. "We really are out of our depth with this thing, aren't we?"

    "It is beyond our scientific understanding right now. When we're done, it won't be," Kelsey replied. "Just run a surface scan."

    "Are we looking for crew?"

    "We're looking for anything."

    Kraski halted underneath the approximate middle of the ship. The hull had been raised on struts, but it was still just about within arm's reach above them. Standing there was incredibly oppressive, the entire weight of the black ship pushing down around them. Talia's flight response was screeching in her mind to get the hell away, her body was twitching and primed to act, her muscles twitching involuntarily now and then with pure nervous energy.

    "I'll take the first scan." Kraski stared up. "Then you take a shot."

    "Alright." Talia nodded, her brow prickly with sweat. "Let's just make it quick."

    He focused on the vessel and reached out with his mind looking for signs of life, a spark somewhere within, the faintest of flickers.

    "Nothing," he said as he continued.

    "Winters, this is Morden." Her link beeped startling her. "We're detecting a faint energy reading in the ship, a small heat source."

    "Peter, did you hear that?"

    "I heard." He answered, still scanning. "I'm not sensing anything."

    "It's localising in your area." Morden continued. "I recommend you stop whatever you're doing and wait for a full science team."

    "Negative." Kelsey's voice cut in. "Keep going, this is the only reaction we've had."

    "I'm going to try a deep scan." Kraski relayed. "See if I can find anything at the heart of the ship."

    He extended his hand, reaching for the hull, fingers stretching up toward the black mass. Talia was absolutely not on board with this, already her feet were edging backwards.

    "I think..." Kraski frowned. "I think I have something..."

    The ship moved. It moved suddenly and with impossible fluidity, the flat, smooth, hardened underside transforming into a flexible, tense liquid immediately above Kraski's hand. Talia didn't even have time to shout a warning, even if her voice hadn't been robbed by shock, it would be too late. The black hull enveloped Kraski's lower arm, oozing down to his elbow in an action that shocked him out of his scan.

    "What happened?" Kelsey demanded, her voice tiny and distant. "We're seeing a heat buildup, what happened?"

    "Talia!" Kraski threw out his other hand. "Talia! Help!"

    Without thinking she lunged forward and grabbed his free hand with both of hers, her body moving on pure instinct, while her mind rushed to catch up. With no plan, she just did what seemed logical, she pulled.

    "What is happening?" The link demanded, neither caring. Kraski was suddenly lifted from his feet as the ship began to envelop him, drawing him up into its now shimmering hull. The attack on her mind was clearer now, like waves of hatred more intense than anything she had ever known.

    "Talia! Pull!"

    She put all her weight into it, dug her heels in, set herself against the force trying to consume her friend. She had no idea what was happening or why, but she knew without doubt the results would be cataclysmic. She fought, struggled with all she had, but it was pointless.

    The ship drew Kraski up, lifting Talia with it, her eyes locking with Kraski's for a final instant before the entire top half of his body was dragged into the ship. She held a little longer, then quickly let go before she was drawn inside too. She scrambled backwards, Kraski's hand still grabbing for her help the last thing she saw of him before she turned and ran, too frantic to even stop and grab one of the jeeps. She just ran the entire kilometre back as the monster stirred.



    "Energy readings are up. There's a heat build up in all monitored sectors!" Doctor Kirkish yelled from her monitors. "Power is localised and growing, no central reactor yet."

    "It might not have one!" Morden called back. "Did anyone see what happened?"

    "One of the telepaths did something." Professor Chang, the IPX team leader was also glued to his console checking the last set of data. "It looked like it absorbed him."

    "Absorbed him?" Morden frowned. "How?"

    "I don't know, just keep watching it!"

    "If that thing is powering up, do we want to still be here when it takes off?" Kirkish raised the pertinent question. "We don't even know what kind of engines it has!"

    The ground beneath their feet began to vibrate, cups and stationary on tables began to rattle and move drawing their attention.

    "That thing's definitely getting ready to go," Morden stated flatly. "We need to move or we're going with it!"

    "We can't abandon this facility!" Chang protested. "This equipment is worth millions of credits!"

    "Stay with it then!" Morden snapped upright. "I have a family, I'm not staying for this, anyone else?"

    Kirkish stood. "We can take the crawler at airlock eight."

    "If you abandon this place, you'll be in breach of contract!" Chang shouted them down. "This is the greatest discovery in human history!"

    "So live to tell people about it." Morden was already heading for the door to the lab, Kirkish quickening her pace to keep up. A few others looked like they might try to follow, but were too afraid of Chang and IPX to follow through. Only Morden and Kirkish left, the yells of Chang's accusations of cowardice in their ears.

    Morden bolted outside of their small building, finding himself in full view of the ship. The inky black metal was now shifting, pulsing, shapes moving within shapes, like some form of living creature. He could hear it now, or rather feel the thrumming in the air as the raw power built up within the vessel. Other engineers and scientists were watching, as were a few soldiers who should have been standing guard. Some were even activating instruments, setting up scans, oblivious to the danger.

    "This way." Kirkish steered him toward the edge of the dome, the thick steel walls pitted with airlocks and cargo doors that saw steady use. Several six wheeled crawlers were arrayed near the nearest door, basic cargo haulers from Fort McHenry or the Psi Corps city on Syria Planum.

    The ground lifted beneath their feet, a sudden, violent jolt that cracked the concrete and tossed the two of them down onto their faces. Now, finally, alarms began to sound, the humming in the air increasing in volume and pitch as whatever passed for a main reactor kicked in. Dormant for a thousand years, buried and hidden, forgotten by all beside its makers, the monster began to breathe.

    "Get in the nearest crawler, go!" Morden had to shout over the increasing noise, half lifting and half pushing Kirkish back to her feet. They stumbled into a run, the rest of the base now realising the same thing they had.

    The crawlers were still a good few hundred metres away, Morden noting a cluster of soldiers and teamsters already jumping on two of the vehicles and activating them. He nearly stumbled again as the ground heaved once more, dust and small rocks beginning to move as he watched them, rolling toward the ship as if they were on a slope. His scientific mind pondered it for a second before he guessed the ship must have gravitic propulsion. It was an interesting revelation, but also concerning. If the ship was dragging things toward it, pulling with its artificial gravity, that might soon include Kirkish and himself.

    "Run faster!"

    To his left, through the glass of the dome, he spotted the first shuttle, the pilot pulling the craft straight up at maximum burn. He could guess who was onboard. Professor Chang, for one, Agent Kelsey, anyone who had the right friends to book the first seat on the first escape ship. To hell with them, survival was all that mattered.

    "Wait! Morden! Wait!"

    He was snapped back by Kirkish, his fellow scientist yelling over the growing roar of the resurrected alien ship. She was waving her arm to the side, pointing furiously at something. There was enough dust in the air that it was getting hard to see beyond a distance but he could see a person, someone on their hands and knees struggling to keep moving. He wanted to get on that crawler, to get the hell out, but there was someone in clear distress as the world was about to be torn asunder. He had to run, to return to his wife and infant child, but how could he go home to them as a coward who abandoned someone in need? He cursed loudly, then waved to Kirkish.

    "Get one ready!"

    Morden acted against his better judgement, tilting away and sprinting for the shape. He didn't have far to run, but even a few moments could be critical. He felt the pull of the ship, the faint tug as its gravity drive drew power. Time was ticking. He was a damn fool for doing this, he wasn't born to be a hero and yet here he was.

    He reached the figure and at once recognised Talia Winters, his heart sharply rebuking his head at the notion of leaving a friend behind. She was exhausted, hands bloody from where she had crawled as fast as she could like a terrified animal. She had no plan, she just needed to be as far from the ship as possible.

    Morden grabbed her, she was incoherent, unable to stand, he had to just pick her up and hope he was still going to be fast enough. He could feel her weight shift, sense her shallow breathing as she surrendered and allowed him to throw her over his shoulder. Morden had done his time in the service during the war, so he was in good shape, but he was already tired and the extra weight wasn't making this easy.

    That was when everything went to hell. In that instant the ship finally awoke, the final organic circuits clicking into place, bringing the ship to full readiness. The reactor spiked, power flowed freely, the eyes opened their electronic iris' and took in the world, before delivering an exultation of pure joy and fury.

    Morden didn't know if what he heard was through his ears, or if it was rammed straight into his brain. He guessed the latter as his eardrums didn't immediately burst from the screech, the scream so unearthly and inhuman, so animalistic and primal, so fundamental, his deepest most prehistoric instincts recoiled. He dropped involuntarily to his knees and it took a long moment before he realised Talia was screaming too, the telepaths whole body tensed, her worn out muscles finding enough final strength to snap her almost upright on his shoulder in searing pain. She cried out in absolute anguish before all of her strength departed and she flopped unconscious back down on his shoulder.

    He had no time to think, no time to allow consideration, no energy to spare to compute what had happened. He just needed to run. Kirkish was fumbling with the door of the nearest cargo crawler, two others were already in the cargo airlock cycling. They'd have to wait until they were clear to take their turn, which was not good. The intense scream that heralded the awakening of the ship had passed, but there was still the murmur of it in his mind, the voice of the ship as it very awkwardly started to move, shifting sideways a few metres, scraping on the supports holding it up.

    "Morden!" Kirkish got the door open and yelled for him. "For fuck's sake, run!"

    He didn't have the energy to shout back, to make some snarky response. Every muscle burned, his vision was darkening at the edges, his breathing was getting ever more difficult. Talia felt like she weighed a thousand tons. Even in the reduced gravity of Mars, he was nearing his limits. He just needed a few more metres.

    The ship lifted up and at once crashed back down, crushing everything beneath it. The vessel was having serious trouble controlling itself, its control systems unable to properly manage its systems. The CPU was wrong, the living being it needed hadn't been prepared. The mind was chaotic, wild, lost in madness and that was spreading to the rest of the ship. It was struggling to figure out what it was, to learn how to fly again. The brain wasn't listening to the control computer. It was blocking it, interfering, trying to take sole control, instead of accepting its subordinate role. The brain ran the ship, but it had to follow the input of the computer, which in turn obeyed the Eye of Z'ha'dum. But there was no eye, no signal, no control. The ship buried its forward spines into the ground again, engines pulsing wildly, communications broadcasting to a home that didn't exist. Everything was wrong, nothing was where it should be, but right at its core, at the absolute centre of its being, there was something the computer and the brain found agreement upon. It yearned for war above all else. It was ready for a fight.

    From his office, Four watched with no emotion at all, his window looking down on the ship as it finally mastered the concept of flight and began to lift upwards.

    "Thirteen. Four." He spoke to his desk console. "Receive."

    "Thirteen receiving."

    "We have activated the alien ship, the telepathic stimulus apparently worked."

    "So noted."

    There was a sudden build up of light, a purple incandescent glow that bathed his office like a blinding strobe.

    "There is, however, a complication."

    Everything between the front of the ship and the mountain range thirty kilometres away, in a narrow line, stopped existing. The senior office buildings, the wall of the dome, several dozen rock formations and sand dunes. All were pierced and then bisected as a lance of pure purple energy speared from the ship. The effect was instant. Air began escaping with a rushing whistle through the new rent in the dome. There were no safety shutters on this hasty structure. People instead either bolted for shelters or crushed toward the shuttles waiting to lift off, squeezing inside like sardines.

    Morden didn't look. He didn't have to. He could feel the ship rising, sense the pull of its gravity system switch to push as it now worked against the planet. He made it to the crawler with his last strength, pushing the unconscious Talia into the cab before following himself and slamming the door shut.

    "Drive, go!"

    "Right!" Kirkish pushed the pedal down, the truck accelerating with all the haste of treacle exiting a can. She floored it, the vehicle slowly gaining speed as she turned to the airlock. "It's still cycling!"

    A purple light passed overhead, cutting across the dome, macro-glass shattering as if it were nothing, dissected girders weighing thousands of tons dropping around the truck.

    "Override it!" Morden told her. "There's no air left in here anyway!"

    She did as instructed, the process taking several long agonising seconds before the door controls agreed and opened both airlock gates at once. As expected, there was no rush of air, the shattered dome having already failed.

    "Go north!"

    "North? The Fort is East!"

    "That's where the shuttles are going, and I guarantee you that thing won't let them run. North, get to the hills!"

    "Okay, running for the hills!"

    He forced himself to check on Talia. She had a pulse and was breathing, but showed no signs of consciousness. Through the back windows, he saw the ship rising like a beast from an egg, the top of the dome sitting on its back as it levitated upwards, shedding glass and steel beneath it. The purple beam fired a few more times, erasing the shelters around it, then reached out to cut down the two slowest shuttles. He'd saved the three of them, but he wasn't feeling especially heroic, not in the face of that monster. He was too tired to feel much of anything, but he was pretty confident last night would be the last nightmare free night of his life.



    Earth Force Mars Command
    Mars Dome One

    "Give me the run down." General Riley was still pulling on his blue jacket as he half ran into the situation room, the far wall dominated by a massive screen showing a wireframe topographical map of the Tarsis plain. Two dozen officers and technicians were at work, seated at rows of consoles like mission control, all of them assimilating and condensing a tide of information.

    "Seismic sensors picked up a series of explosions four minutes ago," the Duty Officer reported a curtly, a Lieutenant Susan Ivanova, who had drawn the short straw to be on duty at this hour. She was fairly new to the role, the high profile posting a good path to promotion if she could handle the intense stress. Today would be the ultimate challenge. "We then started hearing distress calls from shuttles fleeing the Syria Planum Quarantine zone."

    "I knew that place was trouble." Riley snarled as he took his own station elevated to oversee the rest of the room. "Some sort of accident?"

    "I don't think so sir, the distress signals were garbled, but some mentioned an alien ship." Ivanova relayed. "No confirmation and we can't raise those shuttles."

    "What do we have in the area?"

    "Fort McHenry is our nearest base, they already have a flight of fighters in the sky heading for the location. There is also the EAS Borodino guarding the No Fly Zone. She's currently dropping into low orbit over the target."

    "Send warnings to all ships and stations." Riley ordered. "Have McHenry put their entire air group on alert. Where's the Perimeter Guard Force?"

    "Near Phobos." Ivanova answered. "Ten ships under Captain Kerala."

    "Put them on alert and have them deploy for Syria Planum. Borodino is a heavy cruiser, correct?"

    "Yes sir, Hyperion class, fully upgraded." Ivanova confirmed.

    "She can probably handle it, but a Hyperion can't handle disaster relief, no shuttles." Riley frowned. "And I don't like all this secrecy. Satellites?"

    "They had their orbit adjusted to avoid overflying the Quarantine zone sir."

    "Adjust them back, I want eyes on that area. I'll take responsibility for countermanding those orders."

    Ivanova set to work efficiently coordinating her junior staff and barking concise instructions. Riley was satisfied she could handle things without being micromanaged so he left her to her devices and got on with his own job.

    "Initiate Gold Channel access, I need lines to Earthforce Command and Governor Xavier Montoya," Riley instructed his console. It only took a few seconds to connect, his desk screen splitting to show Montoya, head of the Mars government on one side, and General Hague on the other.

    "General Riley." Hague nodded a quick greeting. "The Joint Chiefs are on their way to meet President Santiago, I'll be monitoring the situation until they can join us." Hague was currently commanding the Alliance First Fleet and was likely to be one of the Joint Chiefs before the decade was out. Montoya on the other hand was a civilian and still looked sleepy, having just been dragged out of bed and infused with coffee.

    "All we know at this time is there has been a violent incident in the Quarantine zone, a series of explosions, and garbled messages referencing an alien ship." Riley ran down. "Governor Montoya, if you have any information on the Quarantine zone, I need to know it right now."

    "It was under military jurisdiction, General," Montoya answered. "You probably know more than I do. I've been submitting requests for information since this started. Nobody has given me a straight answer."

    "I don't want to go into this blind." Riley grimaced. "General Hague, do you have anything?"

    "Nothing concrete." Hague shook his head. "But I'll make some urgent calls."

    "Alright. I'm going to keep these channels open so you can monitor what happens," Riley informed. "I think I'll be a little busy to answer questions, but if you have any extra data send it as a priority."

    He noticed Ivanova turning toward him, trying to catch his attention.

    "Lieutenant?"

    "Sir, I'm having trouble contacting the Borodino."

    "What sort of trouble?"

    "I have a direct channel but they are refusing to respond to requests sir." Ivanova was clearly annoyed. "I've tried threatening them, shall I continue?"

    "I'll take it." Riley brought up the comms channel on a second console. "Borodino, this is General Riley, Mars Defence Command. You are directly over the target location, establish a datalink so we can observe the situation."

    "Sorry sir, we have orders not to share classified data." A curt voice returned.

    "I am giving you a direct order Captain."

    "My orders supercede yours sir, I'm sorry but I cannot comply."

    Riley fought extremely hard to maintain his composure. "Captain, within the Mars perimeter, I have seniority. Establish a datalink."

    "I'm sorry General, but..."

    "Captain, enough." Riley cut her off. "This is a potential attack, an act of war against us by an unknown party. Disobeying a direct order in a situation like this, with lives on the line, is mutiny and punishable by summary execution. If you do not obey, I will order the Perimeter fleet to board your vessel and throw you out of a damn airlock. I am not bluffing and I am done talking. Obey the command or consider yourself under arrest."

    There was a long silence before common sense won out.

    "Establishing datalink."

    The exchange had infuriated Riley, given the circumstances the Captain of the Borodino should have been eager to help. It was the only ship in orbit right now and was specifically assigned to guard whatever was happening down there. Clearly the Captain was having a conflict of orders. Whoever had assigned that ship really did not want anything leaking out regarding what this entire fiasco was really all about. It looked like that wasn't going to be a factor anymore.

    "Sensor feed coming through," Ivanova reported. "Patching through to the main screen."

    The highly anticipated data showed very little, just a large dust cloud interspersed with flashes of light. It could have been a dust storm crackling with lightning, but the rest of the weather was clear with just a few scattered clouds.

    "Thermal?"

    "Too much heat bloom." Ivanova shook her head. "Lots of heat sources, I'd guess chemical fires."

    "Any sign of a ship?"

    "If it's there, it's in the dust cloud." Ivanova had nothing. "Fighters are two minutes out."

    "Patch us through and establish a datalink."

    "Aye sir." Ivanova tapped some controls. "Cobra Flight, you're on with Mars Command. We are monitoring the situation, proceed to scout the area and use caution."

    "Copy that command, one minute out." The flight leader narrated. "I have a dust cloud ahead, possible movement within. Moving in for a closer look."

    The whole room was tense with anticipation. This still could have been some sort of accident, but Riley didn't think so. Someone already knew what this was and was hiding that information, potentially jeopardising lives. When this was done, Riley was going to see some heads roll.

    "Command, Cobra Leader, possible visual." The lead pilot reported. "There's a shape in the dust, it's big."

    "Approach with extreme caution." Ivanova repeated. "Object may be hostile."

    "Understood." The pilot acknowledged. "Weapons on standby, loosening formation."



    It was chaotic. Nothing made sense. The information flowing in was confusing, a kaleidoscope of data that just did not make sense. The human brain just wasn't designed to understand this amount of information bombarding it at once. It couldn't move in the ways he was moving. Something was commanding him, instructions he could not refuse, but didn't know how to obey. His mind was supposed to be quiet, passive, helpful. This was a partnership, a symbiosis, but he didn't know how that worked. The ship around him was taking orders from two places, one that knew what to do and another that was erratic. The ship circled, scraped across the ground, fired its weapon, screeched and tried to communicate with the home it knew had to be there somewhere. There was no plan, no logic, it just acted completely at random. Until it saw a threat.

    Then things changed, everything started to become clear. The makers of this ship had engineered it to accept living beings as its core in part because sentient brains made excellent processors, but also because they knew a living being had something no machine could emulate. Pure instincts, passions, drive. The makers valued these aspects above everything and their ships and technology existed to enhance those feelings. They were fundamental to their philosophy and denying them was sacrilege.

    The computer and the brain found their agreement once again, the need to fight. The ship was still erratic, wild, but it had remembered its purpose and that brought a level of control. The computer acted, fueled by the instincts of the unexpected pilot, it stopped randomly shooting at anything it perceived as breakable and began to consider a real plan.

    The ship rose upwards, rotating as it left the dust cloud it had kicked up and glimmered in the clear blue sky. It shook off the last pieces of the environmental dome still on its back and brought its targeting systems on line. Their were several potential targets, but one stood out above the others, a gathering of telepaths to the west. Buried in its most basic instructions, one of the very first things the makers had told it, was to prioritise the destruction of any telepaths. It was happy to obey, lurching forward and clearing away the small aircraft whizzing around with a casual swipe of its slicer cannon.



    "We just lost Cobra flight!" Ivanova called, the screens blazing white before dissolving into static. She quickly replayed the images from the Borodino high above, the warship showing all four fighters were struck with a single swift arc of an energy beam. Things changed immediately, the possibility of hostile action was now confirmed and that triggered a full escalation. Whatever the ship was, wherever this hideous spidery vessel had come from, it wasn't leaving Mars.

    "Put every facility on alert." Riley ordered. "Borodino, you will target that ship and destroy it. Are those orders clear enough?"

    "Yes General." The Captain responded flatly. "For the record, my other orders state we should not engage anything without clear instructions from the Joint Chiefs."

    "I will take responsibility for any criticism." Riley dismissed the concern. "Now hit that ship."

    "Moving into firing position."

    "Ivanova, who's in command at McHenry?"

    "Colonel Buchanon sir," she answered. "Line three."

    Riley connected his console, the system beeping ready.

    "Colonel, this is General Riley, are you aware of the situation?"

    "Yes sir, I'm scrambling every fighter."

    "Good man. Also, Colonel, my records show you have a stockpile of Nuclear weapons. I am authorising you to arm and load as many as you can onto the next wave of fighters. Hopefully we won't need them, but if we do, get them in the air."

    "Understood General. We also have multiple ground to space weapons, if it crosses the horizon, permission to engage?"

    "Absolutely Colonel. Fight your base as you see fit. The enemy vessel is fairly close, you might get a chance."

    "General, Borodino is angling to attack." Ivanova updated him. "She's in range."

    "Borodino, Riley, atmospheric diffusion may reduce your firepower too much to be decisive. I'm authorising nuclear weapons. Hit it with everything."

    "Yes General, commencing attack."

    The Borodino was a relatively new ship, completed during the Minbari war to greatly enhanced capabilities. She carried the latest weapons acquired from the Narn and while inferior to the bigger capital ships, the battle tested Hyperion class was not to be underestimated. She dropped her bow to point down at Syria Planum, the vast red desert expanding beneath her. She was low enough to be just skimming the upper atmosphere, the drag slowing her down and making her position increasingly risky. The Captain took the gamble, she needed to be as close as possible to deliver as much energy as she could. The prow guns came to life, firing ports opened, golden orange energy coalesced and built until reaching critical levels.

    The Borodino engaged with a storm of pulse cannon fire, the fixed prow guns and topside turrets blasting a stream of salvoes down to the planet. A moment later, the flank laser cannons reached full power and joined in, dazzling red beams timing their strike to coincide with the arrival of the pulse shots.

    The impact was impressive, one beam missed, but the second caught the black ship directly drawing a screech from the vessel. The hail of pulses also saturated the area, many hitting the vessel in a ripple of energy, while others struck the desert in fountains of red sand and glass. The Borodino struck again, reading which weapons had hit or missed and adjusting its firing solutions for greater accuracy. More pulse cannon salvoes, more lasers raking the desert, and this time a pair of nuclear missiles to guarantee the kill. She showed no mercy, the heavy cruiser now fully committed, whatever previous reluctance there had been. It fired into the desert, chasing the fast moving black ship, while descending dangerously close to the atmosphere.

    The black vessel absorbed the damage, scattered the energy across its hull and sunk it into the diffuser spines to radiate safely away. Systems were still clean, no loss of capability was observed, but those hits hurt. Somewhere along the line, the makers had decided pain was an excellent motivator and had decided to tie the pain receptors of the pilots brain into the defensive systems. It drove a new anger in the ship, the reactor pumping additional energy into the engines as the ship took evasive action, skimming the desert, swinging left and right as energy weapons impacted everywhere with thunderous explosions.

    The defences could hold off attacks like this, but they still hurt, they had to stop. The choice was an easy one, the sensors easily identifying the source of the attack in low orbit above. The engines screeched again as the black ship rose high enough to flip over, rolling onto its back to bring its main gun into arc of the blocky ship raining gunfire from above. The sensors also noted a pair of nuclear missiles, which it really didn't want to have to deal with, and marked them for destruction too. At that point, all it had to do was shoot and return to its real target, the hated telepaths.

    The Borodino had no chance, the purple slicer beam passed through the cruiser as if it were made of thin air, cutting through the hull bow to stern along the keel of the ship. The heavy armour, the millions of tons of mass, the defence grid and energy webs, none of it made any difference at all. The ship was bisected in two seconds, so fast even the laws of physics seemed surprised. It hung for a second before secondary explosions ripped the remains apart, millions of tons of metal beginning their fall across the Martian equator.

    In the command room, the images were terrifying. Even the Minbari hadn't been that powerful, the atmosphere apparently having no effect on the strength of the alien weapon. The Borodino ended instantly, a brief glimmer in the sky that transformed into thousands of meteors robbing the planet of its primary defence. There was silence, the full gravity of the situation now inescapable to all who saw it. They'd had a few years where they had been the kings of space, where Earth ships had been unchallenged. That time was now over and it was time to respond.

    "Governor Montoya." General Riley spoke with sternness, his voice deafening in the silence conveying an air of command and certainty. Giving in to fear was not going to save lives. "I request that you declare a state of emergency. I need your permission to use all forces at my disposal to end this threat."

    "You have it." Montoya was clearly shaken by the effortless destruction of a major warship.

    "General Hague, I need reinforcements."

    "I'm already mobilising the fleet. We'll make the jump as soon as we can."

    "Lieutenant Ivanova, where is the defence fleet?"

    "Twenty minutes out sir. Captain Kerala has detached his destroyers, they're the faster ships, so will arrive first. The slower ships will follow up later."

    "Put all bases and stations on combat alert. Launch every fighter, deploy every vehicle, bring the defence grid online and be ready to engage if that thing makes for space."

    "Aye sir."

    "Where's it going?"

    "Psi Corps Mars Headquarters, contact in four minutes."

    "Do we have anything in the area, anything at all?"

    "Squadrons from McHenry are six minutes out." Ivanova's throat was dry. "Warships at nineteen minutes."

    "Can we turn the defence grid inwards?"

    "Yes sir, but the particle beams will take about twenty minutes to charge, the missiles aren't shielded for atmospheric friction." Ivanova hated delivering the news. "They'd burn up on the way in."

    "How many people in that base?"

    She checked the data records, tightening her lips. "Twenty thousand."

    "So noted." Riley accepted the report, that was all he could do. "Get me some surveillance satellites, we need new eyes up there."



    Telepaths. For some reason that concept brought more than hate and revulsion, it also brought fear. Nothing else brought fear, not even the possibility of destruction, just telepaths. It was an instinctual response, something left in to force caution into the otherwise supremely confident and aggressive warships of the old ones. He could sense them, and though none were attacking him, he could feel their panic, their fear. Their mere presence was an attack on his mind, especially with so many together in one place. He had to make it all stop, and fortunately he had the means to do it.

    The Psi Corps facility was large and rather well defended. Pulse cannons met his approach as he crested the horizon, the black ship shuddering and shaking to throw off the aim. Once again, the hits were mostly inconsequential, but the pain was not. He fired from range, cutting through the gun batteries first, silencing each one in turn. A handful of armed shuttles made an attack run on him, weak, poorly coordinated, a desperate assault barely worth the output it took to burn them out of the sky.

    The dome was ahead now, macro-glass hardened to withstand plasma fire offering no challenge to the black ship. He hit a few landing pads as he passed over, bright explosions tracing the path of the beam as he lined up on the dome. He half expected something to stop him, some feeling, something from deep, deep in his subconscious that remembered living under that dome, that remembered the friends and family he had there. But there was nothing, the mind was lost in madness, overwhelmed by the ship, it only had instinct and the overriding drive to destroy these threats.

    The beam swept across the dome, cutting across it one side to the other. He traced it back and forth, collapsing the whole structure, gusts of air rushing out to join the thin Martian atmosphere. Within the dome, he could see with his sensor eyes the lakes whipping under the winds, trees swaying violently and the tiny figures of people trying to find safety. No, not people, telepaths. He moved the ship overhead and began to fire, hitting every building, every source of heat. He could detect underground shelters and bunkers. None of them were of any use against the purple slicer beam.

    He took his time, he was thorough, his instructions were hard wired into every fibre of his being. Telepaths were not permitted to exist.



    "Fighter squadrons approaching target." Ivanova focused entirely on her job. She organised the attack, timed the arrival of various units, vectored them in on the most efficient path. She couldn't afford to stop and consider what was happening, the fact civilians were now being killed because this ship had cut through their defences with utter contempt. She couldn't rage about where the ship came from, who knew about it, why the military was not aware and able to take precautions against this situation. She kept her eyes on her screen, kept her staff focused on their jobs, and she put her faith in the General.

    "Lead squadrons will engage up close, try to draw the vessel away from the dome," Riley ordered, very aware he just sent those people to certain death. "Once it gives chase and is clear of civilians, engage with nukes."

    "Aye sir, Banshee squadrons heading in."

    The Earth Force atmospheric fighters were fast and agile, but had virtually nothing in the way of protection. Even without knowing the strength of the black ship, they were well aware of their odds facing a warship. They also knew their duty, and the consequences if the ship was not stopped.

    The first two squadrons ripple fired their missiles, standard plasma core warheads that impacted in plumes of fire, but not much else. The fighters rushed in after, spraying pulse cannon fire into the black ship before peeling away and rushing past, clearing the line of fire for the second wave. It wasn't much, but it did the job, the black ship rotating and climbing. The fighters scattered into evasive twists and spirals as the ship powered up, making it hard to hit more than one fighter at a time. Again, it wasn't much, but it was better than not trying at all.

    "Enemy ship on the move, it looks like it's taking the bait." Ivanova watched, barely daring to blink in case she missed something critical. "I have satellites overhead."

    "Put it on the big screen." Riley ordered, a clear image of the desert zooming down to the monstrous ship swerving away from the ruins of the Psi Corps base. He gritted his teeth. The destruction was very thorough, there was nothing left untouched as fires burned fiercely despite the oxygen depleted atmosphere. It was still the most alien thing he'd ever seen. The Minbari ships had been otherworldly and shared little in common with human made vessels, but this thing was just something else entirely. If pure terror could be forged into a physical object, it would be what he was looking at.

    "Squadrons engaging, ten percent casualties so far."

    "Tell them to stay evasive, hit and run attacks, just keep it following them."

    "Yes sir."

    "And get those nukes into the game."

    He watched a few more fighters vanish, the Banshee's struggling to burn the thin air, robbing them of the speed they would have on Earth. They still pushed the attack, flashes of blue showing pulse cannons firing before the stream of bright purple energy retaliated. They only needed to hold on a little longer.

    "Third wave coming in, Viper Squadron is signalling it has nukes armed and ready to shoot."

    "Scatter the fighters and take the shot," Riley ordered quickly. "Launch them all."

    The black ship chased down a pair of the fleeing aircraft as the fresh attackers rolled in, Viper squadron firing off six nuclear weapons between them. The ship however was learning, starting to see through the feints and distractions. It spotted the missiles as soon as they fired and spun on its centre of mass, slicing its main gun across the sky. It eliminated each missile and then followed up by erasing most of the still distant Viper Squad.

    The General clenched his fist but did not shout or lash out. He took a moment to calm himself, then glanced to Ivanova.

    "Time for the next squadrons?"

    "About ten minutes, The airwing from Fort Carter."

    "Do they have nukes?"

    "Yes sir."

    "This time engage from multiple directions. We keep trying." He exhaled. "Where's it heading now?"

    "West sir, it will overfly Fort McHenry in about five minutes." Ivanova tensed as she checked the flight path. "And in another fifteen, New Vegas."

    "There are three hundred thousand people in New Vegas." Riley's eyes never left the ship. "Get someone to work out if we can use our ground to space nukes on a suborbital trajectory. If we have to saturate that bastard with hundred megaton fusion bombs, then that is what we do. See to it."

    "We might not need to General," Ivanova responded to a notification flashing up on her console with a relieved smile. "Captain Kerala on the line for you."




    The attack was staggeringly violent, even for a ship as old and battle hardened as this one, it found itself surprised by the weight of fire it was subjected to. This wouldn't normally have happened. If the systems were fully functional, the computer would have seen the threat from far away, but the brain was mad and the enemy was taking advantage. It counted six antiproton bombs falling from orbit. They were already most of the way down before the warning was registered, allowing the ship to go full defensive and dump all its spare power to the gravity drives. It wasn't quite enough.

    The six energy mines dropped by the three Omega destroyers of the Mars Perimeter Fleet exploded in a clean saturation pattern at different heights to maximise coverage. The black ship was still quite close to the ground, meaning it would enjoy the full force of the attack, the mines detonating with blinding fury beyond anything Mars had seen in living memory. The mines released hundreds of megatons between them, the intense radiation and heat hurling shockwaves that bounced off the ground and weaved around each other, amplifying the destruction. It was an attack carefully calculated to kill anything in the midst of it, from Minbari battlecruisers to entire urban sprawls. Short of a mass driver, it was the fiercest strike deployed by mankind up to that point.

    The black ship survived. It saw the attack and dodged, racing for the edge of the blast zone and avoiding the maelstrom in the heart, a storm that might actually have killed even that most ancient of weapons. It survived but not intact, the edge of the blast was still powerful enough to fill its energy sinks and superheat the hull armour. The ship that burst from the firestorm was not black anymore, but red, the hull sizzling in the air as the ship screamed skyward, burned and utterly enraged.

    "Target hit but not destroyed." Captain Kerala's voice reported evenly. "Looks like it's heading our way, at least we're pulling it into space."

    "That's where we'll kill it." Riley broke a predatory smile. "Defence grid?"

    "A few more minutes for the particle beams." Ivanova called back. "Missiles are armed and ready."

    "As soon as that thing leaves the atmosphere, you bury it in missiles." Riley felt like they might actually have a chance. They had definitely hurt it, now just to finish it off. "Captain Kerala, we'll synch the satellites to your attacks. Engage at will."

    "Understood General, taking target now."

    The trio of destroyers opened fire with their main anti ship weapons, the laser/pulse cannons mounted on either side of the blocky forward hull. The Omega could put more power into each shot than the smaller Hyperion , but it was still going to be an uphill fight against the ancient ship, the vessel already starting to dim as its diffuser system radiated the heat built up within it into sub-dimensional hyperspace. The destroyers at least had a chance. With the energy absorption system at capacity, every hit was going to inflict damage, shear chunks of the hull, sever the spines further diminishing its energy diffusers.

    The vessel dodged, it was still insane, but the instincts were sharp. It knew to avoid attacks, attain a superior position, and then retaliate. One of the heavyweight lasers caught the ship tearing a deep strip from the hull, a wound that sprayed ichor from the heart of the vessel. It screamed again and fired wildly, missing for the first time.

    The defence grid added its weight, six satellites were in range and all of them began chugging out anti-ship missiles, a river of grey steel lancing for the alien ship from multiple directions. The destroyers began to pull back, engines burning to take the ships up to a higher orbit and draw the enemy further from Mars. More ships were on their way, the satellites were coming online, Starfuries were launching. The battle was now truly joined.

    Missiles began reaching their target, some impacting while others missed. The ancient ship shot down as many as it could, but it was being swamped from all directions. Every impact dumped more energy into its over taxed systems, heat starting to build again in the hull. Once it reached a critical point, it would no longer matter who had made it or how mighty its technology was, it would still cook from the inside out. It had to level the field and fast.

    The beam fired, more powerful now, the ship becoming desperate. It was no longer an efficient scalpel like cut now, but the full strength of the vessel lashing out in anger and pain. The closest destroyer took a glancing hit, the beam scoring down the right flank and immolating the whole side of the vessel. It lurched sideways, systems shorting out until a second hit carved it into chunks.

    Both remaining destroyers turned sharply now, keenly aware the heavily wounded enemy was still an existential threat. They rolled to expose more weapons, the flank guns joining the barrage, missile doors popping open to spit out their own projectiles to join the defence grid.

    The Ancient ship dodged, rolling like a kilometre wide fighter to avoid the first barrage. It moved in close, logic told it to maintain its distance, but logic didn't reign here, just rage incarnate. Still glowing red, it pressed in, a pair of spines shot off by the Earth Force warship. The pain of the damage gave it the last burst to close in, switching power from engines to weapons and cutting the lead destroyer in two, breaking its back and swerving around the mass as it spun out of control, the rotating section throwing the ship out of stable orbit.

    The final destroyer didn't flinch, accelerating to meet the ancient ship head on with every weapon on overload. If given the chance, her Captain would happily ram the enemy, bow guns alternating between a burst of laser fire, then a salvo of pulses and back to lasers in a constant loop. The older ship accepted the challenge, spinning to face the aggressor and charging in, only at the last instant seeing the trap. It swung hard to one side and turned upward narrowly avoiding a tremendous surge of energy, a stream of highly charged particles ripping past from the first of the heavy satellites that were now finally able to attack.

    That changed the calculus a little but not the objective. The vessel spiraled aside and fired a short swipe at the satellite, easily defeating the thinly protected target. The distraction cost it another spine to the destroyer, but it didn't matter. The flow of battle now fully joined drove the ancient vessel forward, the beam cannon once again speaking to cut through the forward third of the ship, reducing everything ahead of the rotating section to junk riddled with secondary blasts. The destroyer lost balance, the momentum of its spinning section throwing off the ship as its centre of mass suddenly shifted, the flank guns sill managing a defiant fusilade as the great ship careened past, the older ship sidestepping the out of control hunk of metal. It was enjoying itself, fully in the moment, curling around to finish this enemy and then seek fresh blood. As it happened, fresh blood found it first.

    From the flank, a massive storm of gunfire blasted the hostile warship, hundreds of rounds of bright orange pulses converging in a brutal strike. Many missed but the volume was so great, enough hit to inflict real damage, the computer recognising fluctuations in the reactor and power failing in the engines. Heat was becoming critical, the defences just hadn't had time to discharge the existing heat and recharge. They were overloading, leaving just the physical armour to protect the core of the vessel.

    The rest of the Perimeter fleet had arrived, a pair of Nova Dreadnoughts delivering a full alpha strike, the two ships tilted at forty five degrees so their far side guns could fire between their nearside ones. The level of destruction was titanic, nothing known would have lived through that opening broadside, and yet the ancient ship had. It was glowing almost white hot, it was losing spines, struggling to move, but it wasn't dead yet. The dreadnoughts kept up the barrage, but they had unknowingly already done their job and sealed their enemy's fate. With the drive system failing, the ship could no longer use its superlative acceleration and agility to avoid the worst of the Earth Force fire, and as violent as the dreadnoughts were, the heavy particle cannons on the defence grid now finally had the range and a target they couldn't miss.

    The first hit was enough, the particle beam thundering from high orbit above and hitting the ancient warship in its centre of mass. Everything stopped working, systems died, the weapons sparked out, the reactor flatlined. The engines fought a little longer on backup power to keep the ship steady, writhing against the attack, but the impact had effectively killed the brain, blasting the hull and cracking it open. A second beam just made it certain, the engines died and the ship was thrown backwards by the force of the weapons, pushed down through the atmosphere at increasing speed, the heavy particle beams shoving it back to Mars.

    It fell from the sky, a fireball smashing into the desert not too far from where it had started its journey. The beams cut out, the shrivelled incandescent remains of the black vessel finally motionless.

    "Target down." Ivanova unravelled, closing her eyes for an instant before continuing on. "Impact on Syria Planum, mid desert."

    "Hit it again." Riley ordered. "We have two more satellites above, hit it again."

    She sent the orders, the immensely powerful weapons firing down into the desert, creating massive plumes of heat and dust, turning swathes of the plain to glass. The weapons were overkill for most targets, but here Riley was absolutely not taking any chances. He waited for the beams to stop, observed no further movement, and decided that was enough.

    "Satellites two and three recharging, target locked if you want another volley sir?" Ivanova offered.

    "No, keep them on standby." The General was satisfied that was enough for now. "Put the Perimeter fleet in orbit directly above the target. If they see so much as a flicker, we hit that spot with everything, clear?"

    "Aye sir, relaying orders."

    "Then start launching medical shuttles." Riley set about his duties. "We'll need recovery ships in orbit to rescue survivors on those destroyers and stop their debris from dropping out of orbit. Better get some shuttles out to the Psi Corps base too."

    "I'll alert the hospitals at New Vegas to standby to receive survivors." Ivanova anticipated his plan. "If any."

    "If any." He nodded. "And deploy some Rangers to the Quarantine zone, secure wherever this thing came from. Send Major Stoller, someone we can rely on."

    "Aye sir."

    "This is done but it's not over." Riley understood. "Secure any surviving data and records. Someone, somewhere, is answering some very difficult questions right now. There's no hiding this and I want to know exactly what happened today."




    Spartan's busy, so I'm posting this in his stead.
     
    Chapter 29
  • 29

    Babylon 3


    He knew space stations; he'd spent probably too much time on them tallied up over the years. He knew the smell of the air, that slightly harsh overly filtered mix that stung the nostrils ever so slightly, that faint scent of cleaning chemicals that never quite went away, and the static charged dust lingering. It was typical deep space living. The only difference was the scale, and that mattered a hell of a lot.

    "Next."

    He shuffled to the front of the line, a bored looking security officer in pale grey extending his hand like it was programmed into him.

    "Indenticard or equivalent please."

    He handed over his identification, a perfectly forged Suns passport that had been set up for him. One of the advantages of technological stagnation was that the old stock of fake IDs still worked a charm.

    "Mr. Kerlin Ward," the guard read out. "What is the purpose of your visit?"

    "Tourism." He answered simply and mostly truthful. "I am intrigued by this place."

    "You and everyone else this week," the bored customs guard complained lightly. Looking at the length of the lines queuing up, this place had likely been packed since opening day, a massive curiosity that had dragged in people like a black hole. Understandable, but it was definitely keeping the station staff very busy.

    "Enjoy your stay." He stamped the passport, a quaint throwback Kerlin found a speck of amusement in, and then he was through, the guard already waving over the next eager visitor.

    It was easy, the suspicious side of him wondering if it was perhaps too easy. This station was a freeport; he hadn't needed a visa or special documentation to board and while he had to walk through a scanner to ensure he wasn't carrying any weapons or contraband, it appeared he was now free to do as he pleased. It felt a little irresponsible, not something he would have permitted, but this was a very different culture, according to the reports he had read.

    That was part of his reason for being here. Kerlin Ward, master of Clan Wolf and one of the most influential and powerful men alive, was taking a gamble. Traveling here was a risk, but given the sudden shift in direction back home, it was justified. The galaxy had changed, events completely unpredicted had come to pass, and that had fundamentally altered the balance of power among the Clans. Surprise, ambition, perhaps a little fear had all conspired together to collapse his carefully laid plans. The Clans were moving and he could no longer stop them.

    That was part of the reason for his visit, to give his subordinates the bad news. Clan Wolf was no longer in ascendance, the Warden Faction it gave its weight to had failed in their goal to hold back the Crusaders, who sought to return in force to the Inner Sphere and remake it in their image of the old Star League. Everything had changed, and now he had to do something dramatic about it, something only he could do. He had to speak with the builders of this place, and for that he needed Jaime Wolf.

    The journey had been direct, but clandestine. If his peers knew his mind, the results would be disastrous for Clan Wolf. Fortunately, it was expected that his Clan would be entering a time of reflection after his defeat in the Council, as they realigned and prepared for glorious battle, so his presence would not be missed for a while. Time enough for this task, one that would almost certainly alter the political landscape of the galaxy irrevocably. He had considered letting others speak on his behalf. Jaime Wolf was a man of wisdom and charisma sufficient to get him into any audience chamber in the galaxy, but this was his responsibility. The words had to be from him alone.

    Babylon 3 was a marvel, not just for its scale, but for the speed of its construction. It spoke of industrial capacity unseen since the fall of the Star League, and made it easy to believe Jaime's reports of massed fleets of heavy warships. That this Earth Alliance was broadly not hostile unless provoked was positive, but that could easily change, and the notion that this power could be turned to conquest was disquieting. Still, as far as he knew, the Alliance was the only entity that could stand up to the united Clans. The rest of the Inner Sphere was still a disaster, barely starting to pull itself back together.

    At the very least, he needed to warn the Alliance of what was coming and seek their help in preventing war, but at the same time, not provoke them into potentially invading the Clan homeworlds. This was the contradiction of his quest. To stop the Crusader factions within the Clans and put the Wardens back in charge of policy toward the Inner Sphere, but not to cause a war that would end lives pointlessly. He knew what he wanted to achieve, but right now had no direct path to that end. It might prove impossible, but it was his duty to try, even if it could be viewed as a type of betrayal.

    He walked the station, following the directions he had been given, passing through an unusual market filled with stalls selling surprisingly trashy trinkets. It was standard tourist fare, the market thronging with people apparently unaware or unconcerned with the quality of what they were buying. Most of the individuals seemed fairly wealthy, traders and minor nobles from across the galaxy indulging their curiosity. This was still a new and novel place, and the idle nobility loved nothing more than a fad which let them show off to others. He had no doubt that when the shine wore off, this place would become more quiet and furtive, its clientele switching from those who craved image to those who were repelled by it.

    Beyond was a maze of corridors, all well marked and colour coordinated, but still vast and endless. Some led to bars and restaurants, many catering to the higher class of aristocrats separating themselves from the rabble. There were people of influence there, but Kerlin knew the real powers wouldn't be mingling even with those potent individuals. The sort of meetings he needed weren't the sort you simply walked into.

    His destination was one of the more luxurious suites available, overlooking the central core of the station, a large window offering a commanding vista over the fields and forests helping recycle the station's air and take some pressure off the scrubbers. It wasn't a huge suite. Apart from the embassies and a few superior hotels built in the core as traditional structures, this suite was as good as it got. He pressed the door chime at the side of the angular shaped portal, the heavy metal door retracting in a circular motion up into the walls.

    Inside were the entire command staff of Wolf's Dragoons, each of the battalion commanders alongside Jaime Wolf himself and Natasha Kerensky. It was probably a little excessive. Bringing so many senior officers to one meeting rankled his warrior instincts, but Kerlin would not chastise them. His words were important enough that they all needed to hear them sooner or later. They immediately stood in ranks and saluted sharply, their time among the Scavenger Lords apparently not diminishing their discipline. Kerlin returned the salute, though given he was dressed as a vagabond trader in a heavy coat, hood, and dark glasses, it probably lacked the dignity it deserved.

    "As you were," he acknowledged plainly. "This is my first time meeting most of you since the mission began." He looked to the various unit commanders. "My compliments on your achievements. You have earned your plaudits, but I regret a greater reward may still be far in the future."

    "The Dragoons stand ready to serve for as long as it takes, my Khan," Jaime swore, his officers standing firm in support.

    "First, I must correct you, for I am no longer Khan." Ward shared the information plainly, with no tinge of bitterness. He had come to terms with his situation and embraced it. "Absalom Feng is now your Khan, and to our good fortune, he has approved the continuation of this project."

    There was a heavy silence as expected, the assembled officers unsure how to process this news. Only Natasha inevitably spoke for them all.

    "What happened?"

    "The Crusader faction is now in ascendance, they successfully argued that the situation has changed enough to warrant invasion. The increase in technology and industry brought by this new Alliance and the growing union of the Davions and Steiners pushed the vote against us. I declared a trial of refusal, and I lost." Kerlin spoke plainly. "As such, I could not continue as Khan. SaKhan Feng has taken the duty. He is loyal to the Warden cause and my finest student. He believes as we do, but he is bound by honour to follow the words of the new IlKhan. Yvonne Hazen."

    "The Jade Falcons." Natasha pursed her lips. "So the Crusaders are calling the shots?"

    "They are, but our mission has not changed."

    "Our loyalty is absolute Khan... I mean..."

    "Galaxy Commander Ward now," Kerlin brought them up to date. "I still serve, and Khan Feng has approved an alternate phase of our mission."

    "We stand ready to serve," Jaime affirmed, the rest of his staff standing straighter as they readied for a new task.

    "It will be necessary," Kerlin intoned. "The Wardens have failed in our efforts to prevent open war. The Clans have chosen to mobilise and to invade, as such all our priorities must change."

    It was not the news any of them wanted to hear, but at the same time, none among them expressed surprise. The Crusader faction had always been powerful. If not for Kerlin Ward, they would probably already be ripping through the worlds of the Inner Sphere.

    "What are your orders sir?" Jaime brought their focus back to their duty. Their former Khan had clearly not given up despite this defeat, as such neither would they.

    "Continue with your contract at present, work with the Capellans, continue to learn from them," Kerlin directed. "For now, officially, nothing has changed. You are still an information gathering unit, you will keep making reports, but these reports will be devoid of any significant information."

    "Do you want us to provide the real reports to you, sir?"

    "That won't be necessary. The Inner Sphere has little chance of resisting the Clans. They have squandered what they had and their fate is sealed."

    "With respect Commander, I think there is hope here," Jaime answered. "The Davions and Steiners are inching toward a common cause. If we had some more time, I firmly believe they will form a united front to oppose invasion."

    "Can it be done in five years?" Kerlin asked. "It will take at least that long to mobilise and fully equip the Crusader forces. Perhaps longer if Khan Feng can convince them greater strength is needed."

    "If five years is all we have, then it'll be done in five years." Jaime nodded resolutely. "But it means telling the truth to the leaders of the Inner Sphere."

    "And that would be considered an act of treason," Kerlin recognised. "While I oppose the course we are on, the Inner Sphere stands as our enemy now... or at least the situation is ambiguous enough that helping them harms the Clans. It is not a step I will take, not yet, and I do not order you to do it."

    "Is there another option?"

    "I have exhausted all options Clan law allows. I have fought so many trials I have lost count," Kerlin admitted.

    "And you survived." Natasha observed.

    "Alive, yes." Kerlin lowered his dark glasses revealing heavy scarring where his left eye had been. "But not intact. Yvonne Hazen bested me at the last. She spared my life, no doubt anticipating I would travel here to join the Dragoons. No doubt it was meant as an insult, but I assure you she will regret letting me live."

    "Hazen was murder on the field," Natasha acknowledged. "I've never known her to lose."

    "Her record is intact, but at least the Smoke Jaguars will be needing a new Khan." Kerlin smiled broadly at the memory of his victory. "It lessens the sting of defeat a little, but it doesn't change the fact that I failed the Trials of Refusal. I must now look elsewhere to stop this pointless bloodshed."

    "If the trials have failed what else is there?" She wondered. "Civil war?"

    "No, I would not lead us that." Kerlin shook his head. "Instead, I want to examine the possibility of outside intervention. Not the Inner Sphere, they are now our enemies, but the Earth Alliance is not."

    "The Alliance?" Jaime raised an eyebrow, his surprise morphing into a smile. "A bold gambit, sir."

    "The Clans have made it clear that our contest is with the Great Houses only. The Periphery is to be considered neutral. Unless, of course, they take arms against us. The Earth Alliance in particular is to be treated with care and caution. Nobody really believes your reports regarding their strength, but they believe enough not to provoke them."

    "A wise choice."

    "Smartest thing the Council has done in this mess." Natasha was less tactful. "And it might work. I don't think they'll get involved unless they get attacked."

    "Hard to say," Jaime countered. "They've been forging closer ties to the Davions and Steiners. Nothing formal, but if those ties keep improving, they might not enjoy seeing their friends getting slammed."

    "You understand then why I am here," Kerlin resolved. "If the Clans invade, it will be a disaster for the Inner Sphere, and if these great fleets from the Periphery choose to intervene, it may be the end of the Clans as we know them. In either case, we must stop this war before it starts, and for that I need to speak to someone senior within the Earth Alliance."

    "Fortunately, Galaxy Commander, you are in exactly the right place."



    Later that day

    "This is irregular." General Smits was clearly perturbed by this unscheduled meeting and wasn't making much effort to disguise that fact, but he had his orders and would follow them, albeit grudgingly. "I like to run this station like clockwork. One thing falls out of place, and it's chaos within five minutes. Sheer anarchy, gentlemen, like juggling cats."

    "Understood General." Colonel Wolf restrained a tingle of amusement. "We wouldn't have requested this if it wasn't an emergency. I can assure you this meeting is critical for all concerned."

    "It appears you have friends in high places, Colonel." Smits continued to sound like a disapproving teacher. "Just through here."

    Smits brought them to Ambassador Hidoshi's office, a small clerical space attached to his quarters just about big enough for a desk and some modest chairs. His official briefing and conference rooms were larger, but also more exposed to scrutiny. This meeting was to be taken secretly, not an easy task in such a closely observed station.

    Hidoshi rose to meet his guests with the oft rehearsed broad smile of a veteran Senator. He was guarded, but clearly curious about what was unfolding.

    "Gentlemen, welcome. Please join me, help yourself to refreshments."

    The meeting was limited to just four participants. Hidoshi and Smits for Earth, Wolf and Ward for their side.

    "I was a little surprised to receive a call from the head of the EIA telling me to set up a meeting." Hidoshi returned to his desk and poured some tea. "You have some interesting friends, Colonel Wolf."

    "We've shed blood together. Hopefully that is enough to get me through the door." Jaime turned to the older man beside him. "But it's not me you need to hear out today. This is my superior officer and architect of everything the Dragoons have done so far."

    All eyes fell on the former Khan, Ward making sure he had their full attention before starting.

    "My name is Kerlin Ward, and the Colonel speaks true. Several years ago, I authorised the creation and deployment of the Wolf Dragoons as a means to gather intelligence on the Inner Sphere. Their political and economic makeup, their culture, and most importantly, their military capacity. This was done to provide reliable information as a prelude to the invasion and conquest of the entire Inner Sphere."

    From most other men, such a statement might have drawn a laugh, a smiling snicker at the attempt to perhaps lighten the atmosphere with some absurdist humour. But Kerlin had no humour in his face, his scarred visage stony and weighted by the words he was delivering. He was instead met with enraptured silence, the gravity starting to draw in the two Alliance representatives.

    "We are a reconnaissance in force with a mission expected to last decades, the first breeze of a forming hurricane," Kerlin continued, assured that he was talking to the right people. "The story is lengthy and I will tell it in full, but to get quickly to the point, are you aware of the Exodus of General Kerensky at the fall of the Star League?"

    "I've studied it, yes." Hidoshi nodded. "Many thought we were the descendants of his people at first."

    Jaime hid a smile.

    "I am one of those descendants, after a fashion," Kerlin continued. "I am part of the genetic lineage of those great warriors and believers. We endured much hardship, many trials, and from it formed a new and more perfect society. One of our guiding ideals left by General Kerensky himself was the resolve to one day return from our exile and give birth to a new Star League, one that will lead humanity in unity to a greater future."

    "A noble sentiment." Hidoshi accepted. "But a dream."

    "Everything ever achieved began as a dream," Kerlin said with confidence. "It will happen, but there is a question of how. Our society is divided on exactly how General Kerensky wanted us to bring humanity together. Some, such as I, believe we will lead through inspiration, that we will wait until we are needed and welcomed by the people of the Inner Sphere. Others believe that the leaders of the Sphere are too corrupt and vicious to ever surrender their power and would burn the galaxy down before submitting to a new League, therefore they must be overthrown by force of arms."

    "Do your people have that capacity?" Smits honed in on the military implication. "The entire Inner Sphere? It would be a massive undertaking."

    "We are hugely outnumbered, but our warriors are peerless and our technology far superior to anything facing us," Kerlin answered. "We would succeed, or at least that was the calculation before an unknown factor entered the equation."

    "Us." Hidoshi understood.

    "Precisely. While you are not a target, you have provided technology and resources to the Inner Sphere. They are growing exponentially stronger. New mechs are being mass produced and armies train for all out war with their neighbours. Our advantage is slipping away and that has forced the hand of my people."

    "An invasion which wouldn't have happened for many more years is now mobilising," Jaime stated plainly so the message wouldn't be lost. "It will take time, a few years to switch to a total war footing, but it is on its way."

    "Why are you telling us this?" "Hidoshi asked the obvious question. "Why not Davion or Steiner?"

    "Because they are our enemies now, and I am no traitor to my people," Kerlin answered. "By that same measure, I would ask you not to relay this information to them either."

    "Really?" Smits raised an eyebrow. "You're asking a lot for someone who just walked through the door. We have good relations with the First Prince and Archon, we can't sit back and watch them take a hit like this."

    "My Commander may be new, but I am not, and I hope I've proven myself worth listening to," Jaime stepped in. "Commander Ward is a greater man than I am, please hear him out."

    "You have assisted us, Colonel." Hidoshi nodded. "But also it turns out you were hiding some pretty important information too. What else are you hiding?"

    "You must do as honour dictates," Kerlin interjected. "But I would first offer an alternative. If it fails, by all means speak with your allies, but I ask you first to consider the reason I traveled all the way here alone."

    "I suppose that's fair," Hidoshi allowed. "What do you suggest?"

    "I have two requests, one personal, which will be to your benefit, and one far greater." Ward made his case. "For my opposition to the invasion, I am now exiled from my people. My enemies expect me to assume command of Colonel Wolf's unit. Consequently, I will do no such thing."

    He gave a small nod to Jaime to confirm his command would remain unaltered.

    "Instead, I request political asylum within the Earth Alliance. If you grant this, I will be honoured to provide my knowledge and experience as a warrior to your armies."

    "Colonel Wolf has provided some experts, and we are currently conducting wargames with Prince Davion," Smits noted.

    "I do not doubt their skill." Ward acknowledged. "But I have commanded larger and more advanced formations than any man in the Inner Sphere. I am well practised in divisional scale combined arms operations that exist only in text books here in the Inner Sphere. The Clans of Kerensky practice war refined from the era of the Star League. What the Great Houses have lost to time, we have preserved, enhanced, perfected. I offer you my guarantee General, Ambassador, I will teach your people the very pinnacle of mech warfare."

    "And the second request?" Hidoshi prompted.

    "The second is potentially far greater. My clan, the Clan Wolf, has suffered a defeat at the hands of its rivals. We are a proud people Ambassador, but we are not fools. Our clan was selected to carry the Legacy of the Kerensky line itself, his genetic legacy and Blood name. To carry the name of Kerensky is an honour beyond honour, and it has earned the envy of the other clans. An envy which has become enmity given our stance against this coming war.

    "Many of us believe our rivals will use this opportunity to purge the bulk of the clan, leaving only a minority who side with the rivals, turning Clan Wolf into a hollow shell to be puppeted. This is unacceptable. As such the new leader and his circle are actively debating a plan to abandon the Clans and seek a new homeworld here within the Inner Sphere. Or, if practical, the Periphery."

    "I see." Hidoshi remained unreadable. "How many people?"

    "It will depend on how many wish to leave. The number may be zero, or it may be tens of millions," Ward answered plainly. "And if we did all choose exile, we would likely be reviled by our former allies and potentially hunted. The risk is considerable for all concerned, but it may also provide a new and safe home for my people. We would also, of course, swear an alliance with Earth and stand ready to fight and die to defend your worlds."

    "So an alliance?"

    "Yes. We do not submit, nor seek to become part of your Alliance. We will govern ourselves and if you refuse our request, we will simply find another world," Ward clarified. "But if you are willing to offer us a planet, an unpopulated minor world of no strategic value is perfectly suitable, then we will support you wholeheartedly. I am fully aware your BattleMech forces are still fledgelings and while advanced on paper, they lack the knowledge accrued by war. I ask you to consider this well, for placing Clan Wolf at your vanguard will make you invincible."

    The Ambassador mulled over the idea, sharing a look with Smits, who offered the tiniest incline of a nod.

    "I can't comment on your second request. That will require a debate among the Senate and a ruling by the President. But to your first, as Ambassador, I am able to grant individuals asylum. I'll sign the paperwork when we are done here."

    "Thank you, Ambassador."

    "On one condition." Hidoshi raised a hand. "A brief interview under observation by our resident telepath."

    "I have been made aware of the probable existence of telepaths among you, and your laws regarding them." Ward became guarded. "I will not consent to a scan."

    "I wouldn't ask you to, only a surface observation, limited to determining if you are truthful in your intentions," Hidoshi explained. "Consider our position. You arrive with this story, the lost soldiers of Kerensky arming for war, your desire to join us, train our armies. How do we know you aren't a spy yourself? That there is no army on the way? Frankly, you could be anyone."

    "Our word is our bond. To lie would be a great dishonour."

    "So you say, but we don't know those traditions even exist," Hidoshi countered. "We won't delve into your memory. We just need to know whether this information is true. If it is, I'll work with you, but I cannot guarantee the Senate will."

    "I understand."

    "And I can't guarantee the President won't warn the First Prince or Archon if what you say is true."

    "I am willing to take that gamble." Ward nodded. "Very well, I shall prove my intentions are truthful and honourable. Assign your telepath."

    "Miss Alexander will be scheduled for this evening. If you pass, I'll put you on a fast transport straight to Earth." Hidoshi gave his word. "Part of me hopes this is a game. Things are already complicated enough without throwing a completely new hostile faction into this mess."

    "I regret that the future will not be simple, but I firmly believe we may yet prevent this war." Ward expressed his own resolve. "But that is for later. For now, I thank you for granting my request."

    "Providing Miss Alexander confirms your intent, then I will welcome you to the Earth Alliance."

    Ward stood and extended his hand which Hidoshi accepted.

    "Well bargained and done."

    Ward left the room, quietly confident about the next step forward. He slowed his pace a little to allow Jaime to catch up, his comrade seemingly not quite so satisfied with results.

    "You have doubts, Colonel?"

    "That obvious, sir?" He exhaled, his face heavy. "I don't doubt your wisdom. Sanctuary with the Alliance is probably the safest place in the galaxy, and no doubt they'll expect something from you in return. But this feels dangerous."

    "It is a gamble, but a calculated one," Ward agreed. "The Warden cause is lost, at least so the Crusaders believe. But as long as we draw breath, we are not defeated. Will you give up your ways just because the new ilKhan demands war?"

    "No sir."

    "Good, then you are still a warrior, despite your long separation from us." The senior officer gave some respect. "The Warden ideal is not merely about protecting and guiding the people of the Sphere, it is also about defending them from threats they cannot yet comprehend. It is also not merely a Clan ideal. Kerensky spoke for all mankind, all our brothers and sisters that we knew and that we had not yet met. His great goal, his dream, was a united humanity strong and wise, together able to overcome any challenge. The Wardens follow this, and it has ever been our mission to make all into Wardens."

    "That is true..." Jaime allowed.

    "We are dedicated to converting the Sphere to our ways. The Wardens were never uniquely a Clan philosophy. I ask you Colonel, who beside us could stand as a fine example of Warden beliefs? Who has united to face greater threats? Who has defended mankind from external attack? Who has preserved their knowledge, wisdom, curiosity, and ambition for a better mankind?" Ward smiled. "Do you see now my goal Colonel? The Warden cause is not dead, far from it. Kerensky's true dream has just been revealed to us. Our aim was always to bring others into the Warden philosophy and for them to stand with us as brothers and sisters. Despite our defeat, that reality is now closer than ever before, thanks to you Colonel and your contact with this Earth."

    Ward rested a hand on Jaime's shoulder gripping it firmly.

    "The Wardens stand still, stronger than ever, and I firmly believe we can still stop this coming war and reshape the Clans to the ideal Kerensky always hoped for. The bulwark of humanity. We will use Earth Alliance to do this, not through battle, but by example. The external threat is real, we just have to prove it, and Earth will do that for us."



    Posted this one since @Spartan303 is busy.[/hr]
     
    Chapter 30
  • New Aragon
    September 3012/2253


    Each dropship left a distinctive ring of vapour in the sky as it hit denser air, the visual ripple accompanied by a boom of shunted atmosphere. The heavy aerodynes slowed fast, retro engines and landing thrusters burning violently as the pilots swerved their craft toward the landing zone. Ten of the hefty vehicles held formation, not an easy task during re-entry, before scattering in the final few thousand feet as they angled for their selected landing zones, and poured on the last few blasts on their breaking thrusters.

    It was a thunderous event, the large craft slowing as quickly as their engines allowed, touching down into a hurricane of dust and detritus blown up by the engines. Into this storm leapt the cargo, the initial dropships running their engines as each unloaded four mechs, the great metal machines fanning out and facing toward each cardinal point, sweeping for targets.

    "LZ secure," Garibaldi tapped his commlink. "Good to go, Taxi Two."

    "Copy, on the way back up." His transport, a modified Leopard dropship built on Mars, instantly lifted up and pitched the nose before blasting its main engines. The mechs were unfazed by the fury of the engines, holding firm in the teeth of the jetwash as the dropship withdrew almost vertically straight up, as fast as possible.

    "Dodger Lance on the ground and clear," Garibaldi reported on his company commsline.

    "Skippy Lance, all clear." His comrades reported in from a kilometre away on the left flank, his sensors marking their status and position.

    "Alpha Lance clear and ready." His company commander, Captain Ferro, acknowledged their signals and brought them up to date. "Assume staggered line, wait for the tanks and prepare to advance."

    Garibaldi's four mech team spread out and kept their watch, guns tracking steadily left and right as they scanned the horizon. The terrain was fairly flat, by necessity. Some sort of old lake bed, selected for ease of landing dropships. While the Leopards had unloaded in seconds, the much larger Gazelle class units carrying the tanks were taking a little longer. It made sense. Driving a company of heavy tanks down a ramp was a slower and more careful task than just throwing a mech out of a door, but it felt like it was taking a while.

    The mechs held position and guarded the landing zone, infantry unloading from other dropships setting up nearby, rolling out their assorted command vehicles, tachyon scanners and engineering vehicles. Some of the tanks would remain here to establish a forward base with the infantry, while the rest would screen Ferro's mech company as they hunted for targets nearby.

    "Dodger Lance, Blue Platoon here. Coming through loud and clear?"

    "Blue, Dodger leader, I hear you and have you on the datalink." Garibaldi flicked a few controls to update his displays, a simple map showing four blue dots approaching his mechs. "All briefed on the situation?"

    "Yes sir, we'll move on ahead and look for trouble."

    "And if you find it, we'll jog over and end it."

    "Appreciate the support, Lieutenant, but I have a bet with my crews we kill more hostiles than you do." The tanker laid down the challenge as his vehicles trundled past.

    "I'll take that bet." Garibaldi grinned to himself. "If we win, you need to grab us some tanker overalls from your quartermaster."

    "And if we win?"

    "I'll cook your platoon some real Italian food."

    "You got a deal, Dodger leader. I expect table cloths and a singer too. With one of those little guitars."

    He let the tanks take the lead, a quartet of the new Siegfried heavy tanks built to fight in this unusual new universe they had been hurled into. Much bigger and heavier than the old Thor tanks, and armed with two naval artillery guns that packed prodigious firepower on paper, yet Garibaldi was confident his four Marauders would effortlessly surpass them.

    "Alright Dodgers, move up nice and steady. Sweep the horizon and watch for fast movers."

    His team checked in with a tap of their comms, no words needed. The climate here was dry, each step kicking up some dust, which meant stealth wasn't an option. Not that the massed dropship landing was exactly subtle. The defenders would know their location and be able to track their movements, though Ferro had a plan for that.

    On their right flank, a group of jeeps were also crossing the flats and moving toward a cluster of low hills, each one dragging chains behind it. From a distance, the dust kicked up from dragging the chains would make the jeeps look like a company of tanks, a decoy accompanied by assorted radio chatter and reports to try and confuse their opponent.

    "Primary objective is a mine one hundred and twenty clicks north," Ferro's voice reminded the group. "We'll take a direct path, low hills and sparse forest ahead. Sweep and clear for the main force, hostile mechs and VTOL forces are expected."

    The group settled into formation, spreading out with a company of tanks forward and the mech company five hundred metres behind.

    "All units, weapons free. No friendlies or civilians in the region. If it moves, blast it."



    "What do you think?" General Robert Fraser lowered his binoculars and gave his follow commander a pointed look.

    "Very tightly done." Hanse Davion gave his honest assessment, continuing to peer across the terrain with his own binoculars. "You kept those dropships within what, eight hundred metres of each other?"

    "Five hundred." Fraser smiled. "And that's only because this is an exercise. If this was serious, we could put them down in a three hundred metre grid."

    "My compliments to your pilots." Hanse could respect that. Dropping into combat was an extraordinarily dangerous role, and while pilots never had the glory of a mechwarrior, any commander with a modicum of sense kept his drop pilots content. "Combat veterans?"

    "The best." Fraser beamed in pride. "They ran cargo shuttles under Minbari blockades. If you weren't able to execute a high speed drop, well, you didn't get a second chance."

    "Natural selection." Hanse understood perfectly. "I didn't even have time to get my fighters off the ground. Again, my compliments to your pilots."

    "Benefit of being able to deploy so close to your target and not have to spend days flying in from a jump point," the EA General reasoned. "We can have ships on the way down before the reports make it up the chain of command."

    "Which means we need to put some additional flexibility into the process, hand more initiative to local commanders," the Prince rationalised. As much as this wargame was to provide a training opportunity to the Earth Force mech units, it was also turning out to be a very useful experience for the AFFS. Not for the first time, Hanse guessed this was exactly why his older brother had staged the games within Hanse's domain. "And improve our own dropship groupings."

    "Highness, scouts report enemy in sight," a junior officer called from the open sided tent, packed with comms gear and maps, Hanse was using as his command post. Fraser had his own command post set on the back of a truck nearby, the two sides opponents in these games, but keeping in close contact.

    "Well General, if you'll excuse me, I need to go and do some work." Hanse nodded to the officer. "May the best regiment win."

    "We'll try not to make your boys and girls feel too silly." Fraser chuckled and made for his own command post. He radiated confidence, but it wasn't reflected in the cold reality. Earth was still a novice and the AFFS was considered a first class military. He expected to give the Suns a shock, but ultimately he was here to learn from them. Not that he'd express anything other than supreme self assuredness.

    For his part, Hanse also had doubts. He'd seen the test evaluations on the Marauders Earth Force was fielding and they were absolutely terrifying. A monkey in a flight suit would be an existential threat at the controls of that much firepower. In the hands of disciplined professionals, this was going to be a very hard fight.

    "My Compliments to General Drivers." Hanse set about his task. "Begin operations. Then get me Major Sortek's detachment."



    "Contact on the ridge, single mech moving fast."

    "I see it." Garibaldi targeted the shape, a small machine keeping tabs on them. "Scout mech, good odds they know where we are."

    "Permission to take a shot boss?" One of his squad strained at the leash.

    "Range is a little long," Garibaldi checked. "I don't like that guy stalking us though."

    "Dodgers, this is Blue, we can take that shot." The commander of his attached tank screen had already stopped one of his tanks. "Blue Three, send it."

    The closest Siegfried tank halted and aligned its substantial cannon, the 175mm former naval weapon well suited for this kind of long range engagement.

    "Tracking, locked, on the way!"

    The gun blasted a flash of flame that looked impressive, but was all for show, a blank exercise round that simulated the shock and sensor disruption, but nothing else. The range computer calculated the flight, worked out the impact, and then informed the target mech that it had been sniped at maximum range and its activities for the day were over.

    "That's a kill," the tank commander reported gleefully. "Man, I'm really looking forward to that Italian dinner, for free."

    "It ain't over til it's over," Garibaldi retaliated. "Move on, expect additional hostiles any minute."

    Garibaldi's unit heightened their senses, tensed themselves for combat. He doubted the enemy would simply sit back and wait for the EA advance to reach them. From what he knew of the AFFS in general, and Hanse Davion in particular, they would be bold and aggressive in their response. The Dodgers would be ready for it.

    "Heat bloom, forests, ten o'clock low!" One of the tank commanders reported. "Energy weapons!"

    Streaks of laser and particle energy stabbed past the tanks, very faint and barely showing through the dust cloud, but enough to pinpoint an enemy location.

    "Blue platoon engage on the move!" The tanks responded by swinging their turrets to the left. "Echelon right, continuous fire, execute!"

    The guns barked, the muzzle blast kicking up some dust as the tanks swept across the gently undulating ground. There was no way to simulate the dust kicked up by misses, so the computers had to randomise some environmental effects making life harder for the gunners. In response, they just carpeted the target in quick fired anti-tank rounds, playing the law of averages and betting something would have to hit.

    "Keep your eyes open and heads on a swivel," Garibaldi warned. "I'm only getting one reading, probable scout."

    "Confirmed, that return fire looks pretty weak," his second confirmed.

    "Their main attack is still out there. Leave the scraps for the tanks, keep focused."

    It was probably a distraction, something to make them face left when the real strike came from elsewhere. Just as he was trying to guess from which direction the real hammer would fall from, his sensors lit up with warnings.

    "Target front! Multiple mechs emerging from cover!"

    "Dodgers halt!" Garibaldi called clearly down the line. "Mid-range rapid fire, catch them as they deploy! Let 'em have it!"

    The Marauders stopped in their tracks and went active, holding position to provide a stable gunnery platform. On Garibaldi's order, each of the four machines leveled their pulse cannons and opened fire on full auto, saturating the emerging lance of AFFS mechs. The pulses were faded and weak imitations of a full bellied barrage, but even so, the storm of particle fire illuminated the air between the two formations, registering dozens of hits in a matter of seconds.

    "Alpha Lance, Dodger Lance, enemy contact," Garibaldi reported. "Continuing to advance under fire!"

    "Copy that, Dodger. Push forward, we're covering your flank," Captain Ferro responded back. "Estimate Regiment strength mech unit in these hills."

    "Understood, resistance increasing but under control."

    The lance began to advance slowly, the mechs beginning to move forward again at walking pace, while maintaining rapid bursts of gunfire. Ahead of them, an assortment of light and medium mechs attempted to reply, but were simply overwhelmed in raw firepower before they could do much. The few shots which connected were registered, but did little more than shave off some armour from the Marauders.

    "Dodgers, we have a fold in the terrain on the right." His tank screen helpfully informed, the heavy armour platoon adding their own strength to the attack. "Good odds there's more enemies waiting for us."

    "Screen that direction, we'll keep engaging the main force." Garibaldi sent some gauss rifle shots downrange from his top mounted turret for good measure. "They're giving ground, but don't get ahead of yourself. These people aren't going to panic."

    "Copy Dodger, Blue Platoon shifting fire."



    "Holy hell." Ardan Sortek watched the symbols on his tactical display blinking out one after another as their opponents resumed their attack. "I saw the reports on those new Marauders, but holy hell."

    "Able Company is down. Baker company is falling back and reports heavy losses." His second in command, Captain Dana Stephenson was listening into the regimental comms line. "No enemy casualties, they just don't survive long enough to get any aimed shots off."

    "That's a single lance doing that." Sortek shook his head. "Unbelievable."

    "We've got a whole regiment of those things working up back home," Dana reminded him. "Nice that they're on our side."

    "But they might not always be, so lets figure out how to do this." Ardan observed the data on his screen intensely. "A direct attack is futile. If two companies can't overwhelm them, our lance has no chance."

    "Ambush is a no-go," Dana added. "They're pushing tanks forward ahead of the mechs. We might blast a few tanks, but then the mechs swat us from range."

    "Terrain is no good for a flanking attack." He grimaced. "We're going to have to charge them. This is going to be bracing."

    "They're still Marauders." Dana prepared herself. "Damn good Marauders, but still Marauders. We get in close and it's ours."

    "Sabre lance, Rapier lance, heat up the jump jets." Ardan settled on their course of action. "And get me some smoke."



    "Don't go after them." Garibaldi held his unit back. "Advance steady, hold your formation and keep pace with the tanks."

    Ahead, the mechs were falling back, dozens of them registered as destroyed or disabled. It was an impressive display, though somewhat tempered by the fact their enemies were mostly medium or light mechs, lacking the resilience of the bigger machines. Their enemy had tried to use mobility to their advantage, but apparently it hadn't gone well. Some form of fire and advance tactic which just hadn't been given a chance to work.

    "Missiles inbound!"

    "Track and standby to engage!" Garibaldi swung to face the new threat, a wave of short range rockets which airburst into clouds of smoke and chaff. Immediately his sensors began to stutter, the missiles having some sort of electromagnetic component which was potent enough to affect his tachyon receivers. He smiled slightly. This was the real deal. "Fire into the smoke, full auto suppression!"

    The lance did as ordered, sweeping long bursts of blue pulses into the smoke screen. They were firing blind, but at such a high rate, something was going to hit. They couldn't maintain this rate of fire for long. Even with their advanced cooling systems, there were limits, but in theory, this should be done quick.

    "Contacts above!"

    That was what he guessed was coming, jump jets. It was a new challenge, but Garibaldi's lance had been expecting something like this, the infamous death from above.

    "Step back and intercept!"

    The Marauders were fairly nimble for such big machines, the lance scrambling backwards and shifting fire, raising their guns and filling the sky with rounds. They did well, the fast tracking sensors peppering the incoming mechs in mid air, all four finding themselves shredded before ever touching down.

    He was about to start feeling very smug about his performance when a massive shape burst from the smoke. A Victor, blasting across the ground under full thrust from its jump engines, but angled horizontally, not vertically. It was a very risky move, but it got the machine and three smaller Enforcers out of the smoke and into point blank range before Garibaldi could bring his guns back down to engage.

    "That's done warrior." A happy voice cut in, the Victor halting with its arm mounted cannon resting an inch from the Marauder cockpit, filling his view. "Damn fine shooting, but the duel is mine."

    "Not gonna argue with that," Garibaldi accepted gracefully. "Good luck replacing all those dead mechwarriors though."

    "We live and learn. Or not, as the case may be. May I have your name?"

    "Michael Garibaldi, Lieutenant, First Battlemech Regiment."

    "Ardan Sortek, Major, Seventeenth Avalon," his opponent replied. "Well fought, Lieutenant. You handled your machines admirably."

    "Could have been better. I mean, we're still dead."

    "No shame in losing to an ace unit on your first exercise," Ardan replied simply. "You held formation, displayed exceptional discipline. I think your Regiment is going to become very famous, Lieutenant Garibaldi, and rightly feared."

    "That mean you're up for a rematch?"

    "Of course, Lieutenant!" Ardan gave a wholehearted laugh. "It will be my pleasure. A good mechwarrior relishes a challenge, and your Marauders are truly a challenge."

    "First though, one question. You guys ever tried real Italian food?"



    "That was quite reckless, Highness." Fraser shrugged. "But effective."

    "Only reckless if you aren't sure you can pull it off." Hanse smiled back at his opponent. "Major Sortek is an old friend of mine, young but exceptional. Even so, he only succeeded because he found a weakness to exploit."

    "How so?" Fraser scanned the scene with his binoculars, Ardan's lance dodging tank fire as they finished off Blue Platoon.

    "Two points. The first is your tank screen. I can understand sending them first. They will trigger any ambush, absorb any initial contact, and a tank is easier to replace than a mech. But mechs are at their best when left free to manoeuvre. By tying them to a tank screen, you rob them of their speed and mobility. By sacrificing that, you reduce a mech to just a walking tank, which isn't a terrible thing, but you could gain much more."

    "And the second?"

    "You're deployed like a tank formation, three hundred metres between each mech." Hanse pointed. "Designed to make sure an artillery strike or bombing run only kills one unit, correct? Very logical, and they can still support each other with gunfire, but as you saw, once Major Sortek got in among your lance, they were easily divided and unable to provide any mutual support."

    "That is true," Fraser nodded. "So a more flexible formation, loose on the advance and tighten up when encountering mechs."

    "I can see that working," Hanse agreed. "But I think the key thing to note here is that your designs and basic training are formidable. Your lance here on this flank destroyed or disabled forty one mechs. Forty one."

    "That is quite a result."

    "It is. It has shown me that trying to fight advanced mechs in an open contest of firepower is foolish. I can assure you tomorrow's exercise is going to be a lot more challenging." Hanse smiled a little. The lesson learned, fresh tactics and strategy already filling his mind. He knew a direct frontal attack would fail, but he needed to know by how much. He had to test the firepower of these new mechs directly, and now he knew. He was enjoying every second of this, creating a whole new style of warfare on the fly. "But the point is against a regular mech unit, you should achieve victory."

    "Good news."

    "It is, but ultimately not helpful," the Prince explained. "Wherever you go, whichever nation you deploy to, you likely won't be facing regular units. As soon as your enemies see those shiny mechs on their ground, they will send the best of the best to fight you. They won't waste militia on you. They want to win, they want to capture your mechs so they can be reproduced. The grim reality is General, you will likely never face regular units, only elites, people like Major Sortek. That is what I am trying to teach you General. Not to fight line regiments, but how to fight the elite."

    "Well, Highness, I'd suggest informing your people the next wave is incoming."

    "Is that so?" Hanse scanned the horizon with his binoculars. "Indeed it is. If you'll excuse me, General?"

    "Aye Highness, back to it."

    The two split and withdrew to their respective command posts, Hanse quickly re-establishing contact.

    "Ardan, I have good news and bad news. The good news is there is a further opportunity for glory. The bad news is that opportunity is a command lance of heavily upgraded Stalkers walking toward you from the east."

    Babylon 3
    Council Chamber


    "The injustices mount day by day, hour by hour!" Elizabeth Liao jabbed her finger toward the artificial sky. "The Capellan Confederation has done nothing to provoke the sheer hostility directed against us!"

    A wave of groans rolled through the chamber indicating the sentiment was not shared.

    "We acknowledge my former husband, Maximilian, may have over-reached, but that was then! Chancellor Candace Liao has done nothing but repair the damage he did! And yet our territory continues to be attacked! Our worlds raided! Our people killed and maimed by these unjust incursions! We demand resolution!"

    "Do you have any specific comments, Ambassador?" Aki Hidoshi peered at Elizabeth, the Earth Ambassador also serving as chairman for the council. "Something we can examine?"

    "For today? Perhaps Anton Marik can explain why the League are still trying to take worlds rightfully owned by House Liao?" She glared at the League Ambassador, who scorned the bitter expression.

    "Do you have knowledge of this, Ambassador Marik?"

    "She probably means the border worlds we have recently moved to secure, worlds traditionally held by the League."

    "Lies!" Elizabeth snarled. "You take advantage of us!"

    "Madam Ambassador, no man in this galaxy would dare take advantage of you."

    Hidoshi quickly slammed down the gavel to call order and halt the inevitable barrage of insults.

    "Ambassador Marik, I ask you to show a little decorum in these chambers."

    "Very well." He nodded. "I retract my last comment, but the general point stands. These worlds do not belong to Liao."

    "The Marik claims are tenuous. We have held them longer, the worlds are culturally Capellan," Elizabeth countered. "By right of settlement, these worlds belong to the people of the Confederation."

    "We will happily relocate anyone who wishes to leave," Anton countered. "Though once they learn what a full belly feels like, I doubt you'll see many wanting to go."

    "If these worlds are in dispute, have you explored alternate options?" Hidoshi enquired. "Joint custodianship? Perhaps holding free and fair democratic votes to let the people decide?"

    "The people?" Anton frowned. "What would they know? Most of these worlds are barely industrial, the populations can't even write their own names. How can they make a judgement on matters such as this?"

    "As much as I hate it, I agree." Elizabeth Liao recoiled at the idea of being on the same side as Anton. "The people trust us to make these decisions for them, and are happy to absolve themselves of such a difficult responsibility."

    "There is neither the education, nor a reliable means of registering votes." Ambassador Fenlon, representing the Suns, spoke heavily. "Democracy is an impossible ideal. The reality is that any compromise must come from the great houses."

    "We will surrender nothing," Elizabeth snarled, fire burning behind her cool features.

    "I see nothing more to discuss." Anton dismissed her with a casual wave. "Next topic please."

    "This is probably a good time to break for lunch." Hidoshi rubbed his eyes. "Let's return in two hours to look at transit rights again."



    "It's so wonderfully quaint how Hidoshi keeps bringing up voting as a solution to every problem." Elizabeth Liao poured two glasses of pale liquor from an expensive bottle. "But I think he's starting to learn."

    "He used to suggest it all the time." Anton Marik happily accepted the drink and took a seat in the library, conspicuously avoiding the windows. "He's starting to accept how things work here."

    "A few words over fine drinks between the right people." Elizabeth sat down opposite him. "Not that we oppose giving the people a voice, they only say what we want them to say anyway."

    "Speaking of voices, how was my performance?"

    "Perfectly condescending and arrogant. Have you been practising, or does it just come natural?"

    "Yes, yes, that famous Liao wit." Anton affixed a fake smile. "The point is to all observers we appear to be at each other's throats. When your forces launch their attack it will surprise no one."

    "The Chancellor will do so according to plan, but understand this is a significant risk to us." Elizabeth's voice turned to ice. "If you were to betray us, the results would be very unpleasant."

    "You are my best shot at ruling my people, I know what I'm doing." Anton tightened his jaw. "My brother the dotard needs to go, and he will."

    "We will strike the disputed border worlds." Elizabeth confirmed. "You will report we are present in far greater strength than expected, forcing the Captain General to deploy his reserve units. His best and most loyal regiments."

    "Then I open a gap in the front, allowing your main force to bypass the most heavily defended worlds, destroy supply lines, and leave those loyal units to die from attrition." Anton smiled. "Leaving the path to Atreus wide open and unguarded."

    "You take the planet and its institutions, we help you purge any of Janos Marik's die hard followers..."

    "Not that he has many," Anton interjected.

    "And in return, we keep the border worlds we take, you give us the automated shipyard Earth Alliance gave Janos, and when the time comes, you stand with us and Kurita against Davion and Steiner."

    "Perfect." Anton sipped his drink. "When do we start?"

    "Three weeks. Comstar is handling last minute coordination. They will give you fast transport home once the fighting begins."

    "And from there to Atreus."

    "We have no doubt your armies will flock to your banner." Elizabeth smiled. "But to add a little edge to your campaign, the Chancellor is placing Wolf's Dragoons under your command."

    "The Dragoons? Their reputation is impressive. I think I can find a use for them."

    "See that you do." Elizabeth held his gaze. "This isn't just your future at stake. We are investing heavily in this coup. Do not make us regret it."

    "When I am Captain General, I will remember my friends. You'll get your alliance, and your trinkets."

    "See that we do."

    "Also, isn't Candace still single?" Anton raised an eyebrow. "Perhaps we can make our alliance a little more personal?"

    "An intriguing idea." Elizabeth had to fight not to laugh in his face. She had no love for Candace, but even she wouldn't wish that fate on her. "I shall pass along your suggestion."

    "Excellent." Anton grinned to himself. "I think this is going to go very well indeed."

    Geneva, Earth
    Presidential Residence.


    It felt like every time he sat at this desk, there was a new dilemma to face, some grand choice that could alter the lives of billions. As President, he had expected to make decisions like that, but not nearly so frequently. He'd found new respect for his predecessor, and pity for whoever followed this term.

    "Okay Vic, we've got coffee, I've had a big dinner, let's get to work." President Santiago clapped his hands together in an exaggerated show of energy. His advisors appreciated it, the roomful of senior personnel mostly as weary as their president. Between the Minbari war and now this, there hadn't been much opportunity to slow down and decompress. He was lucky his people were the pick of their professions.

    "Well, I'll start with good news." Victor Chapel, Director of the EIA looked the most at ease among them all. "The alien ship is confirmed destroyed. We were a little concerned given this thing had apparently survived a thousand years buried on Mars and then soaked up enough firepower to kill three Minbari battleships, but it's done."

    "There's no energy readings from any part of the vessel," General Hague stepped in. "All pieces have been recovered and are at a secure facility on Pluto."

    "How secure?" Santiago wasn't going to just let that be that.

    "The failsafe for the base is two high yield nuclear devices. If a code is not entered twice a day, then everything within thirty miles stops existing."

    "And are we sure that's enough if something goes wrong again?" Santiago looked around the room. "I recall being assured that this project entailed minimal risk. I think it's safe to say that was not a sound assessment."

    "IPX is still working on a thorough report, and Psi Corps will be presenting it's findings in the next week or two." Security Minister Pierce Macabee answered, trying his best to look confident. "Our friends in the Corps in particular are very keen to get some answers. Lot of angry people over there."

    "The thing erased their Mars facility, I'll bet they're pissed," Santiago grunted. "Any more in that?"

    "There were no survivors, the entire Syria Planum facility was methodically obliterated," Chapel related. "Including several deeply buried bunkers we didn't even know existed."

    "That sounds ominous." The President raised an eyebrow.

    "Psi Corps says it was an oversight." Macabee shrugged. "Either way, the area was so completely destroyed we have no way of knowing what those bunkers were for."

    "Our military losses were significant, but not crippling," Hague reported. "Two thousand, two hundred killed or missing."

    "The loss of telepaths is far more damaging on a strategic level," Macabee pointed out. "The Mars base was used for advanced training of high level individuals, Psi Cops, future leaders, anyone with an unusual gift. In terms of raw numbers, it is painful. A few thousand telepaths is a serious loss regardless, but these were among the strongest telepaths we have. The product of a century of careful genetic matching."

    "You mean selective breeding," Chapel chipped in, his disapproval obvious.

    "You could say that." Macabee didn't take umbrage at the scorn. "But the fact is, they were a major strategic asset, and this ship deliberately targeted them."

    "Are we sure about that?" Santiago shared his concern. "I was told that thing was running on automatic?"

    "As far as we can tell it was, but whatever programming it had prioritised telepaths," Hague spoke. "It bypassed a major military base to hit the telepaths, that is notable."

    "How long to replace the telepaths we lost?" The President asked.

    "According to Psi Corps, the loss of strong bloodlines has set us back decades." Chapel kept an even face. "Psi Cops are down to about thirty percent effectiveness. We should expect to see a lot more rogue telepaths, with some leak out into the Inner Sphere inevitable."

    "The Corps is recruiting fresh blood hound teams for deployment to the Inner Sphere under their most senior surviving member, a Mr. Bester." Macabee checked his notes. "But they will be less potent and built around weaker telepaths. He cannot guarantee capture of rogues, only kills."

    "We need to make sure rogue teeps don't begin interfering in Inner Sphere society, that set up is crazy enough as it is." Santiago exhaled. "Give this man Bester whatever he needs. What's next?"

    "Kerlin Ward." Chapel smiled. "This is a good one. You remember one of the stories the locals told was about the lost army of Alexander Kerensky? Well he's one of them. A descendant, anyway."

    "I thought that was an urban myth." Hague frowned. "That they were either dead or made up."

    "According to Ward, they've done well for themselves, and our friend Colonel Jaime Wolf is one of them too," Chapel continued. "Unfortunately, they've taken a turn for the worse lately and this group, which are now calling themselves the Clans of Kerensky, are planning on invading the galaxy."

    "How many are there?" Santiago asked.

    "About five or six billion."

    "Good luck to them." Hague grinned. "They're certainly confident in their prowess."

    "They have superior technology to the local powers, and according to Mr. Ward, far higher combat strength, but not to an overwhelming degree." Chapel shook his head. "We don't anticipate any significant threat at this time."

    "Ward has asked for asylum as a political exile. He opposes the warlike path the new leaders are embarking upon," Macabee detailed. "Ambassador Hidoshi on the Babylon station granted it, I see no reason to overrule him."

    "He's an important intelligence source, I say keep him," Chapel agreed. "There is a part two to this. In exchange for not informing our local allies about these Clans, he's offered to help train our mech units and share some key pieces of technology. Turns out he brought a lot of data with him that could be very useful."

    "But he wants us to not warn our allies an invasion is heading their way?" Santiago checked.

    "Yes, Mr President. Additionally, he's on the look out for a planet to relocate his clan to, maybe." Chapel was a little reluctant. "A lot apparently aren't keen on this invasion, and he expects they'll want to join him in exile, something which might end up with the whole clan getting purged. If we help him out, he'll ally with us and provide an elite ground force to spearhead any missions we may have."

    "I don't want to leave our allies in the dark on this," Santiago considered. "We have more to gain from the Inner Sphere than we do from this one man and maybe some of his followers."

    "We haven't even confirmed this man is legitimate," Macabee added. "The telepath on B3 confirms he's telling the truth, but that doesn't mean he's in full possession of the facts."

    "He might have been fed a false story to make him flee, or to panic possible enemies," Chapel agreed. "Right now, we just have what he tells us. If we go telling the Davions and Steiners about the return of Kerensky's ghost fleet with no hard evidence, they'll probably just laugh us out of their massive palace."

    "So do we ignore him, or do we find a way to confirm his story?" Macabee asked.

    "We do have an option," Hague raised. "Right now we have an Explorer ship out by the Hanseatic League. It's working it's way around the periphery, handling first contact protocols. We could redirect it out to where Mr Ward claims his people live."

    "Can it make it that far out?" Santiago asked.

    "Easy enough," Hague nodded. "And we do have a precise location."

    "I'm not sure I want First Contact with this group just yet. If they are aggressive, the last thing I want is a war so far beyond our borders."

    "Then I suggest we jump in short and observe," Hague agreed. "All we need to do is confirm the existence of these Clans, intercept some comms. Perhaps if the risk justifies it, try to speak to Ward's Clan Wolf only."

    "I'll approve observation," Santiago nodded. "And if we detect an invasion force, then we will inform our allies."

    "And Mr. Ward?"

    "He asked us not to pass on what he told us, we won't," Santiago promised. "Any data will be from the Explorer ship only. Our information gathered ourselves, nothing from him."

    "So noted, Mr. President."

    "Our last matter then Mr. President, our intervention in the Aurigan Coalition," Minister Macabee brought up. "Our ships are about a week away. Once they arrive, they'll deploy in support of Lord Arano and help stabilise the region."

    "Good, we need to strengthen our relations with the other Periphery powers," Santiago approved. "Stabilising the region also gives us credit with the Taurians and Canopians."

    "And provides us with a forward base to keep an eye on the Capellans," Chapel weighed in.

    "We have a troop ship and a destroyer out there, plus a full combined arms regiment," Hague recited. "Our first mech unit is still engaged in wargames with the Federated Suns, but this second unit is virtually identical."

    "Can it handle some pirates and mercenaries?"

    "Easily sir." Hague was confident. "The naval contingent is under Captain John Sheridan, ground forces are under General Dan Gilbert, one of our best armoured corps commanders."

    "Local forces will provide plenty of support, but its going to be a big game of hide and seek," Chapel guessed. "Might take a while, but we've got the right people for the job."

    "And this will significantly improve our position with the Periphery," Macabee recognised. "We'll just need your final authorisation to commit."

    "Very well." Santiago nodded. "Let them know they are free to engage any hostiles they run into."

    "Beyond that, we have nothing much else." Macabee exhaled. "Trade with our allies is good, tensions between Capella and the League remain high, Draconis is still icy."

    "And our path home?"

    "No progress."

    "Keep on it." Santiago leaned forward and began arranging his papers, signifying the meeting was over. "I haven't given up on our colonies, gentlemen. I expect the same from everyone serving this government. We don't run from fights, and we don't abandon our own."
     
    Chapter 31
  • 31

    Mechdur
    Aurigan Space

    The sudden activity had generated a buzz of rumour across the planet. Gossip columns began to scroll with tales of armies landing and Lord Arano himself taking to the field to confront some hitherto unknown threat. Rumours which were in fact true, if somewhat embellished. By the time the real news was being broadcast, speculation was at fever pitch, with crowds thronging the gates and fences of the Rosco industrial spaceport to catch a glimpse of the drama.

    For his part, Lord Tamati Arano was happy to deliver a little show, something that looked good on the news and boosted morale. He kept one eye on the distant crowds as the inbound dropships arrived, fat bodied Titan class heavy haulers touching down in a roar of engines, with a few smaller shuttles joining them around the landing strip. He already had a company of Royal Guard 'Mechs arrayed at the edges of the spaceport. By themselves an intimidating sight, but the heavy troop transports were a significant escalation.

    The Aurigan Coalition had its difficulties. He knew it, the people knew it, his rivals knew it. The nation was too small and too poor to adequately confront the forces working against them. They didn't even know who was picking at their society or why. Raids had been increasing, casualties mounting, fear had taken a grip as isolated communities worried about slavers and looters paying a visit. Even larger settlements, like the cities here on Mechdur, were becoming uncertain, and that did not bode well for Lord Arano's position as monarch. Decisive action was required, and the heavy DropShips brought the means to act.

    The newly arrived Titans shut down their engines, the edges of their hulls still cooling after their atmospheric descent. Ground crews made their way forward with fuel trucks to top the craft up and provide any maintenance if needed, compliments of House Arano. As they got to work, the dropships opened up, deploying their own loadmasters and logistics personnel, followed ultimately by the meat of the operation, a column of heavy tanks in pristine military grey.

    "They look the part, I'll give 'em that," Captain Raju Montgomery of the Royal Guards grudgingly complimented, the burly battlescarred mechwarrior judging the squat Siegfried tanks as they were carefully guided out of the dropships by their loadmasters. "Twin AC-20s I'd say. That's going to ruin anyone's day."

    "I'm waiting for the mechs." Arano squinted at the sky in anticipation. "I suppose they are in reserve, but it would help ease the public to see a full regiment parade down here before they deploy."

    "The press office is sending up some reporters on a dropshuttle to take a look at the warships." Raju smiled thinly. "That should make some ripples. They sent the ship that led the attack on Sian."

    "So I heard." Arano watched a triangular shuttle circle overhead, looking for a place to land. "Well, we better go introduce ourselves. Call over the rest of our guests, we'll talk in the spaceport lounge."

    Having an impromptu diplomatic conference in the departure lounge of the spaceport probably wasn't ideal, but at least it was the First Class lounge. Arano nodded to a couple of guardsmen standing at the door as he walked between them, Ambassadors from Earth, the Taurians and Canopus already gathered and indulging in some of the freebies allowed to First Class travelers.

    "Ah, Lord Arano, finally." Cody Hagen of the Taurians let slip an overly exaggerated sigh. "Are we ready?"

    "I could wait a little longer if it meant more of this free wine," Esmerelda Tahiri of Canopus quipped, swirling her glass of half imbibed liquour. "A lot better than I expected out here."

    "The Earth Force troops just landed, their commanders should be here shortly," Arano informed them. "Ambassador Lantze, again, my thanks to the Earth Alliance and her people."

    "Better wait and see if it works first," Hagen scoffed before Lantze could answer, the Earth diplomat shooting him a scathing look.

    "You are welcome, Lord Arano. I am confident this matter will be resolved swiftly."

    Further commentary was cut off by the arrival of the men of the hour, General Dan Gilbert in the olive uniform of the Alliance Army, and Captain John Sheridan in standard duty blues.

    "Welcome, gentlemen." Arano grinned. "And please help yourself to refreshments after your journey."

    "Much appreciated." General Gilbert grabbed one of the small pastries laid out for the meeting, the delicate nibble entirely inadequate for the broad army General. "I won't be here long my lord, Ambassadors." He nodded to each in turn. "I need to make sure everything is down and unloaded."

    "Of course." Arano was quietly pleased to be dealing with someone who just wanted to get down to business. "I've asked us to gather here to make sure everyone is on the same page. General Gilbert and Captain Sheridan have settled on a plan of action. If you would, gentlemen?"

    "Yes, well, pretty straightforward." Gilbert shoved the pastry down his neck as quickly as possible. He was not a man at home among diplomats and nobility, Dan Gilbert wasn't well spoken or affable enough to rise to the highest of ranks, which required political sensibilities and the capacity to smile at people who hated your very existence. He was a practical man, someone who enjoyed being knee deep in mud and engine oil, planning out the most effective way of killing a whole bunch of people. It was a profession he excelled at.

    "To be brief, I'll be setting up my headquarters here on Mechdur. It's location roughly at the centre of the Aurigan Coalition makes it a good springboard for any operations. We're only one or two jumps clear of any possible target."

    "What did you bring with you?" Ambassador Hagen skipped straight to his main concern.

    "A combined arms brigade, one mech battalion, one armoured battalion, one infantry battalion," Gilbert answered, just as bluntly. "The Mechs are staying with the troopship until we need them, tanks and infantry are deploying here."

    "You have a warships then?" Tahiri asked. "The one from Sian?"

    "We have two." Gilbert turned to his companion. "Captain?"

    "The Agamemnon and the Okinawa," Sheridan fielded. "The Agamemnon is a destroyer and will be taking the lead in searching for hostile spacecraft. The Okinawa is a troopship, Tantalus Class, and will be our main method of shifting forces around quickly."

    "So just one warship and one transport?"

    "Don't underestimate the Okinawa," Sheridan chided. "She has enough guns to handle herself and is optimised for ground support. If called for, she can easily intercept dropships or board a pirate jumpship."

    "Right now her job is to investigate the outer systems and look for trouble," Gilbert laid out. "If she finds it, she'll deploy her mechs and eliminate any pirate bases she spots."

    "The Agamemnon will scout the spacelanes and survey the lesser populated planets," Sheridan added. "Although first, I believe we have some business with Mr Lantze?"

    "Yes, in fact," the middle aged Ambassador confirmed. "I need you to transport me to a world known as Detroit."

    "Like the city?" Gilbert raised an eyebrow. "Where?"

    "Approximately two jumps distant, it is a reasonably affluent and advanced independent planet," Lantze informed. "We need to determine their intentions and if they are part of this plot."

    "Can't you get there some other way?" Gilbert showed his lack of diplomatic niceties. "That's going to take my destroyer out of the game for a week or two."

    "I've considered that, but if Detroit is a threat, I want to make sure we can deal with it swiftly and decisively." Lantze held firm. "I do have authority on this matter."

    "Very well." Gilbert just decided to live with it. "It will slow our operation, but not by much."

    "At this point, we still have no clear idea who is raiding us and why," Lord Arano offered. "It is possible these pirates and mercenaries are being sponsored by one of our neighbours. Detroit is rich enough to do this, though what they gain is a mystery."

    "Nobody has much to gain from your collapse." Hagen shrugged. "Yeah, we've talked about taking these worlds back into the Concordiat, but there's just no real appetite for it. The Taurians aren't imperialists, unlike our neighbours."

    "Is that a barb aimed at us?" Tahiri flicked a glance his way.

    "I was thinking Davions, actually."

    "Of course, my mistake." The Canopus ambassador smiled. "Never far from the Taurian mind, are they?"

    "And what is that supposed to mean?"

    "Honoured guests, please." Lord Arano had to step in to calm matters down, something which was becoming a habit. "We've all agreed to work together in a spirit of cooperation. Let's stay true to that."

    "Point is, we need more data, and we get that from prisoners and captured gear," Gilbert carried on. "For that, we need to find some targets and give them a beating. Now, so far all attacks have focused on lightly populated rimward territories, but they won't stay out there. We expect an attack on either Coromidir, as the capital, or here on Mechdur, as the most economically useful planet."

    "The capital is defended by the bulk of the army," Arano answered. "I am confident in its strength."

    "And now my boys and girls are here to keep this planet safe." Gilbert nodded. "So we look at other targets, look for remote bases, check out unchartered worlds outside your space."

    "Any pirate with a brain cell would bail the hell out when they see two warships on the news." Sheridan considered the realities. "If they are real pirates, they are only here for some easy money. they won't gamble their lives on it, they'll go hit somewhere easier."

    "Plenty of targets our here in the Periphery, makes you wonder why they are taking a shot at Auriga," Gilbert agreed. "Why not one of the independent worlds? Why somewhere with an organised military, a stable central government?"

    "That didn't make sense to us either." Arano nodded. "So if they keep attacking, we know they aren't opportunists sensing weakness?"

    "Nobody would pick a fight with a destroyer if they didn't have to." Sheridan nodded. "If they keep attacking, its because that's their specific mission."

    "Which brings us back to why. Why you?" Gilbert analysed Arano. "What makes you different, and who gains from your collapse?"

    "The answer will come once we beat this enemy," Arano determined. "I have full confidence in our victory."

    "I'll begin operations at once," Gilbert determined. "Captain Sheridan, hang around in orbit for ten or twelve hours, make sure you get the Aggy on every news channel out here. Then take Mr Lantze to Detroit, for his sins."

    "Yes sir."

    "I'll stay here and coordinate an initial search with the Okinawa. if someone attacks she can handle it," the General reasoned confidently. "With luck, we'll have this resolved by the end of the year. Our main problem is finding these pirates and mercs. If they're smart, they'll keep their heads down and avoid direct battle."

    "Unless their mission demands it," Sheridan suggested. "Then it gets ugly."

    "Yes." Gilbert grabbed another delicate pastry. "For them."

    Capellan Space
    Near the Free Worlds League.

    "I hate the countryside." Candace Liao fought the urge to vomit as her transport bounced around the unpaved road, her mood as vicious as her reputation. "We gave them free run of a space port, yet they insist on marshaling out in the wilds?"

    "Colonel Wolf has his routine." Romano was far less bothered by the motion than her sister. Indeed, she suspected Candace's temper was less to do with motion sickness and more with Jaime Wolf playing games with her. "He keeps his unit away from ours."

    "Paranoid, he's out here so we can't spy on him."

    "We are spying on him, so is it still paranoia if it's true?"

    "Don't get caught up in thinking too much, it doesn't suit you." Candace took some deep breaths to steady herself. Romano was right, of course. Wolf's Dragoons had been incredibly resistant to her attempts at sneaking in agents to learn some secrets. The Maskirovka were damn good at their jobs. As secret police went, they set the standard, yet they had failed to uncover more about the Dragoons than Jaime wanted them to know. That at least three agents had suffered 'accidents' just made it worse.

    "I still don't know why you hired them, after what they did to us on Sian," Romano huffed. "And now we're going out there to be nice to them."

    "That is why I am Chancellor and you are not," Candace said curtly. "They are a useful asset and we do not throw away assets based on feelings. Only for practical gain."

    "If you say so, sister." There was still no love lost between these two. The death of their father hadn't changed that. If anything, it was worse.

    Their motorcade passed by the picket 'Mechs guarding the perimeter, their MechWarriors no doubt informing the Dragoon command team company was on the way.

    "Just follow the plan," Candace reminded her sister. "This is a critical moment for us, a chance to completely reverse our recent losses. Do not jeopardise it."



    "We're topped off for weapons. I'm not thrilled about these Capellan made LRMs though. We've had more than a few fizzle in the tubes," Joshua Wolf related, with obvious distaste. "Lowest bidder bullshit."

    "Our autocannon misfire rate is up too," Natasha Kerensky added to the woes. "I've got the quartermasters visually checking every round, but misfires are going to be a thing for a while."

    "Always going to be something." Jaime Wolf accepted the situation for what it was. Working for the Capellans had been a balancing act. On the one hand his grander mission required it, but on the other, he had to be very selective regarding the jobs he ran. More than once, he had to diplomatically swerve away from raids or suppression missions that could lead them into killing civilians, something Candace Liao seemed to recognize and find amusing. The Dragoons had very clearly stated where their redlines were, but the Liaos still tried to push them over it.

    And now apparently they were supplying them with barely adequate munitions.

    "Next mission over the border, we'll try and bring back some League ammo, look into setting up some alternate supply lines. Just in case."

    "Just in case what?" Joshua asked.

    "Just in case the Liaos try to fuck us." Natasha grimaced. "Hard as that may be to believe."

    The possibility was never far from their minds. Jaime had taken precautions. He kept his dropships fuelled for a hasty escape and his jumpships charged and ready. He kept his regiments separated, his troops on alert, his intelligence apparatus razor sharp. So far it had gone well, but he was expecting the Liaos to pull something before their time was up.

    The other big issue had of course been the unexpected arrival of Kerlin Ward and the dire news he had brought with him. The Dragoons had been a major project put forth by the Warden Clans, a project that had failed. It left them unsure about the future and where exactly their loyalties would lie. Most of the Dragoons believed in the Warden path and were from Clans that held those practices. Would they be disbanded and returned to their home clans? Would they be deployed as a vanguard, weakening the Inner Sphere before invasion? Would they just be discarded by the Crusader clans as a bunch of irrelevant Freeborns?

    Jaime had kept them focused on the task at hand to stave off such concerns, but it was only a short term solution. His warriors were questioning the future, especially those who had started families on this mission. It was inevitable that a day would come when they'd need to choose one side or another, the Clans or the lives they were forging here in the Inner Sphere. As mostly Freeborns with Freeborn families, Jaime knew which way he was leaning, probably how most of his warriors were going too. The question was whether they'd live long after turning their back on the Clans.

    "Colonel, we got incoming." One of his staff poked their head urgently through the flap of his command tent.

    "Hostiles?" Jaime went to alert.

    "Yes sir, the worst kind sir. Liao sisters just crossed the perimeter."

    He exhaled heavily. "Fuck."

    "I hear that's their preferred plan." Natasha tilted a crooked smile. "Nice to have admirers, huh?"

    "Candace only wants me for my army."

    "You must feel so used." Joshua tried to make light of it. "Want me to throw a bucket of engine grease over you? Might make her actually keep her hands to herself this time."

    "I'll be diplomatic," Jaime politely refused. "Same goes for you two. Just pretend we're happy to see them."

    "I'll be nice." Natasha grabbed Joshua by the arm and dragged him in close. "Put if she puts a finger on my toy, I won't be held responsible."

    Jaime actually laughed at that one, a real laugh. He still had no idea how exactly Natasha Kerensky, finest mechwarrior currently drawing breath, had managed to fall for his younger brother, but here it was. Joshua was everything she wasn't. Sure he was an excellent MechWarrior, but he didn't have the same level of cockiness or hyperconfidence Natasha exuded. He wasn't as extroverted or loud, he was sincere, often thoughtful, the sort of man who would probably have enjoyed the quiet life, if not for this mission. And yet there he was in the grip of a girl idolised by most men and a hefty chunk of women too. The most hilarious thing to Jaime was that Joshua didn't seem to understand how this had happened either.

    "Even a Liao isn't that crazy." Jaime grabbed his jacket and made himself look more like a commanding officer. "If they're out here in person, it's probably time for the big show. Game faces on."



    The Liao motorcade rolled through the camp like it owned the place, a statement to remind the assorted Dragoons where their money came from. It looked grand and Jaime played along, let Candace imagine she owned them entirely. The convoy split, armoured cars peeling off to set a perimeter, with APCs disgorging stacks of elite soldiers. At the heart of the procession was a luxurious but well protected truck, the vehicle grinding to a halt just outside the command tent. Jaime and his two closest companions lined up as one of the Capellan troopers opened the door to the armoured truck, clearing the way for the Jade Dragoness herself.

    "Colonel Wolf, eternally a pleasure."

    She extended her hand to him which he bowed and kissed as was expected, a formality Candace definitely liked to impose upon him.

    "Welcome to our camp, Chancellor. I trust all is well?"

    "It is. Romano and I are touring our forward bases to speak with the brave warriors of the Confederation." She caught his eye. "It seemed a good time to visit my mercenaries also. Shall we speak privately?"

    "As you wish, please join my senior staff in the command tent."

    Candace gestured for Romano to follow, the stony faced younger warrior barely glancing at the 'Mech and following glumly along.

    Once in private, Candace switched instantly to a less formal aura, unbuttoning the top of her exquisite green silk outfit and flopping into Jaime's chair. Without asking permission, of course. Such were her little games of control.

    "You're not idiots, so you know I wouldn't be all the way out here without good reason." Candace put her feet up on the map strewn trestle table ahead of the chair. "Your raids have been to soften up the border and weaken enemy forces in preparation for a full scale, broad front invasion. That time has now come."

    "We stand ready to serve," Jaime said simply. "But if I may? Yes, we have hit some key logistics points. The fixed defences are weaker, but Marik is by now on full alert. For all their flaws, they can see the same patterns we can. They'll be expecting an attack."

    "Which suits us." Candace smiled indulgently, enjoying this moment when she knew something Jaime did not. "Do you know which forces guard the border opposite us here?"

    "Militia units from the Procyon Duchy."

    "The household guards of Anton Marik, Duke of Procyon." Candace nodded. "Have you ever met Anton Marik?"

    "I have not had the pleasure."

    "Meeting him is no pleasure," the elder Liao sighed, a tinge of a bitter memory crossing her brow. "He was sent to the Babylon station, effectively exiled by Janos to keep him out of internal power games. A wise enough precaution. I did the same thing to dear step-mother, but Janos has failed."

    Candace grew suddenly very serious.

    "Tomorrow morning, Confederation units will begin their attack. Losses are expected to be heavy, but not critical in all sectors, except this one."

    "Anton Marik's." Jaime pieced things together. "You bought him off."

    "No, he actually thinks he bought me." Candace chuckled lightly. "When the attack begins, Anton will denounce Janos as a weak and uninspired leader, a damp fish squatting on the Marik throne, an insult to the title of Captain General. Anton will return from Babylon, rally his soldiers and storm Atreus, removing Janos and installing himself as Captain General."

    "Simple as that?" Joshua scrunched up his face in extreme doubt.

    "You'll find the terms 'simple' and 'Anton Marik' often find themselves in close proximity." Candace smiled softly. "He is quite convinced that Janos is a weak and broken man, his failures far outstripping his successes. When given a more dynamic and charismatic option, the Free Worlds will gratefully accept Duke Anton as the superior option and saviour of the future, thus ushering in a new age of peace and prosperity."

    "Nice sales pitch." Natasha remained unmoved. "What about reality?"

    "The reality is that this broad front attack will draw in and pin down most of the Marik Militia between here and the capital. Janos can't afford to pull fresh troops from the Lyran border in case Ice Bitch Katrina decides to snatch a few more planets. Janos fears her more than me, and that is going to be his gravest mistake. "

    She smiled to herself briefly before focusing again.

    "I want Marik to commit to this invasion. I want them fighting my line regiments so they can't pull back and defend Atreus itself."

    "So Anton and his rebels drive on Atreus?" Natasha shook his head. "Won't work, even without pulling in hardened units from the Lyran front, you still have a couple of Guards regiments and some Atrean Dragoons in reserve. That'll be more than enough to chew up Anton's local levy."

    "You are absolutely right." Candace gave an energetic nod. "Can you guess what I'm going to do about that?"

    Jaime exhaled very lightly. "You're sending us."

    "For the duration of this campaign, you will be seconded to Duke Anton Marik," Candace confirmed. "You will deploy to Delos and link up with Duke Anton's rebels. You will then take the lead, cut through the elite forces we all know are going to be waiting for Anton, and ensure this coup succeeds."

    "It's a tall order. Most of the Militia we've fought have been below average, but the Guards are well trained, very well armed, and have combat experience," Jaime laid out. "We're also having supply issues, and I doubt Anton will have much to spare."

    "Already taken care of. You'll have everything you need," Candace promised. "And you'll have Romano." She waved at her younger sister.

    "I'm not sure I understand?" Jaime glanced at the dour girl. "She's a fine warrior but..."

    "Not as a recruit." Candace giggled. "Romano commands four regiments of elite mechwarriors, my last strategic reserve. Forget Anton, Romano is your back up, and I guarantee you her warriors are fully capable of ripping through anything Marik throws at them. Anton gets to wave and smile and claim victory, but make no mistake, the actual victory will hang on you and Romano."

    Jaime slowly nodded. "Alright, I can work with that."

    "Go to Delos, Romano will remain here. Once the real fighting starts, you will link up, clear a path to Atreus and earn a victory even greater than your previous wins. You get to storm two capital worlds. Imagine your fee for the next employer."

    "It'll take about a week to gather my forces, arrange supplies, probably the end of the month before we can engage."

    "Good enough. Anton will deploy you where needed, but he will be advised by someone on my staff." Candace shrugged. "Let him think he's in charge, it'll be easier."

    "We can do that."

    "It won't be easy, but it will alter the shape of the Inner Sphere." Candace stood. "I hired you against the advice of almost everyone, because I saw in you the skill to do the extraordinary. You demonstrated that at Sian to my cost, now demonstrate it for my benefit. Good hunting, Colonel."

    The Chancellor departed with a firm nod, Romano following her without a word said, leaving the three Wolves to process the new information.

    "That was weird." Natasha looked over to Jaime. "She didn't try to grab your balls or anything."

    "She's already got them in a vice." Joshua winced. "So, we're the meat shield for Romano Liao."

    "Sounds like. We go in first, do the grunt work, and Romano's pristine elite show up to claim the glory and execute the prisoners." Jaime pursed his lips, decidedly unimpressed by his new orders. "We'll need to be careful on this one. The Liaos won't give a damn if we all die in this game."

    "That's probably the plan," Joshua reasoned. "We're not exactly popular. Romano hates our guts."

    "She's definitely leaving us to die in a ditch somewhere. Back up? More like a gun to the back of our heads," Natasha scoffed. "Alright genius, how do we get out of this one?"

    "We play Anton." Jaime reasoned. "He's prideful, egotistical, but if Candace thinks she can manipulate him, then so can we."

    "Nice." Natasha grinned. "But his army is worth shit. Liao is right, Romano's people will go through anything Marik has like week old tacos through a toddler."

    "If Anton gets ideas above his station, she will absolutely end him. I'll bet you anything that's why Romano is really going in," Joshua reasoned. "She's the executioner."

    "For Janos, for Anton, probably for us," Jaime understood. "And she has the firepower to do it too."

    "This is going to be a fun one." Natasha suddenly broke into a wide grin. "I knew taking this mission was a great idea! You just keep setting me up with the best fucking fights a girl could ask for!"

    "I dunno, even for us this is a big one." Joshua looked to his brother. "Can we really pull this off? Outwit the Liaos and survive a direct assault on the Marik homeworld?"

    "Ask me again in six months."

    Cooperland Colony

    Cranston Snord had a job to do. He was being paid to teach these newbies what it meant to be a MechWarrior and he was earning his pay today.

    "It's not that I'm against it. I know sandals are a good idea. I even like them, hell, the Romans conquered half the world wearing sandals. I respect that. But you can't put spurs on sandals, Gary. They don't jingle. They don't jangle."

    "I get that boss but you're in a mech, it gets hot, you're going to want sandals."

    "Just come with me on this journey for a minute, Gary." Cranston took his young colleague by the shoulder and directed him to look out over the green fields of the proving ground. "You're a MechWarrior, king of the land, staring down at lesser mortals. You have to live that life, you have to be that man, a god among the riff-raff. You're larger than life, an inspiration, everything you do, all that you say, you gotta feed that aura. You know what works? Cowboy boots with spurs. You know what doesn't?"

    "...Sandals?"

    "Congratulations on learning one of the basics of the life. Make others believe you are a legend and you might actually believe it yourself." Cranston slapped him on the back. "It's your first steps on a long road kid, and those steps are gonna jingle and jangle. Pick some good boots and we start training after the weekend."

    "Yes sir."

    "I ain't your sir. Do I look like your Geography teacher?"

    "Well, honestly..." Gary offered an apologetic expression before thinking better of it. "No, not a bit."

    "Get back here first thing Monday morning, bright and early, about midday."

    "Midday?"

    "That's plenty early for this unit." Cranston grinned. "Go, get gone, take that clothing budget and make me proud kid."

    He watched the young man skitter away toward the barracks assigned to his team with a tiny bit of pride. He was actually enjoying the role of teacher, maybe even getting into it seriously. He certainly hadn't planned for it, but maybe this was going to work out after all.

    "It would appear your approach to the sanctity of warfare has not changed."

    "Huh?" Cranston craned his neck to see who was interrupting his moment. "Do I know you? You sound like..."

    Standing behind him, with a completely unreadable expression, was Kerlin Ward, Khan of Clan Wolf and his ultimate superior.

    "Oh. Well. Shit." He quickly broke a wide smile. "How've you been?"

    "I am unsure the level of contact you maintain with Colonel Wolf. I will simply say the Crusaders have won the debate, war is coming, and I am exiled."

    "Right. Bad news then." Cranston had no idea what he was supposed to do in this situation. Was he supposed to sympathise? Offer advice? Play it safe and just smile and nod?

    "Fortunately, the Warden cause has not fallen yet. I am here to explore a new path forward through the Earth Alliance. I understand you have had the most opportunity to work with them. Speak truthfully and plainly, am I wasting my time?"

    Khan Ward had just asked Cranston Snord for his opinion. He made a mental note to check the weather report for hell.

    "No my Khan, I don't think you are. I think there's potential here, and out of every group in the galaxy, these are probably the only ones who would understand what a Warden is. I don't know what your plan is, and it'll be over my paygrade anyway. But if you are looking for help? This is about your only option."

    "Colonel Wolf offered much the same opinion," Ward accepted. "I am to speak with an Anna Sheridan. Do you know where she may be found?"

    "She'll be around here somewhere, her office is in yonder building." He gestured over to the scientific complex beyond the 'Mech fields. "Nice girl, ask her about her husband. That guy had some wild stories."

    "Cranston!" A voice pierced the sky. "Cranston Snord! Don't you run!"

    "Speaking of wild..." He turned to face the challenge. "Angie! You look great, are those new shoes?" He kept the smile nailed on as he observed she was wearing an unmatched pair. "Or one new shoe at least?"

    "Why is there a car outside my office?" The incoming banshee demanded. "And I don't mean outside my window, I mean in the corridor outside my door!"

    "Well, long story, but if it was outside, somebody might have seen it."

    "And why is it asking me if I need to lay down and take a nap?"

    "It can probably sense your agitation, which combined with your caffeine intake..."

    "It's a car! Why does it care? How does it know? How can it talk? What is it doing in my corridor?"

    "Well, ultimately, I'm going to help it fight crime," Cranston answered, as if that was the plain obvious answer anyone would reply with. "But first I need to hide it, and who's going to look for a car in a corridor?"

    "But... but... but..."

    "Before we talk more, I'd like to introduce you to my boss' boss. Kerlin Ward." Cranston gestured. "Khan Ward, Angela Ginelli, smartest person alive."

    That raised an eyebrow, exactly the reaction Cranston had guessed.

    "Is that so?" Ward acknowledged. "My pleasure."

    "Right, sorry, guests." She rapidly smothered herself down and took a steady breath. "Welcome to the Experimental Applications Facility. I am Dr Ginelli, I look after the mech development."

    "She does a lot more than that," Cranston sneaked in. "She's the reason they're all here in the first place."

    "Cranny..."

    "Punted an entire solar system. Who can do that?"

    "Cranny!" She snapped. "We don't talk about that."

    "Everyone knows by now." Cranston smiled on. "Smartest person alive. She won't admit it and goes bright red every time I say it, so naturally I say it a lot. But I also mean it. Smartest person alive."

    "I sense a fascinating story, Doctor Ginelli, but I must first locate a Mrs Anna Sheridan," Ward reiterated his task. "I am to make myself known to her so I may take up a role here."

    "Role?" Cranston shot him a sudden look. "What role?"

    "Advisor on BattleMech development and deployment. Among other things."

    "She's in a meeting with her superiors. Are you expected?"

    "Not until later. If she is busy, I can wait." Ward inclined his head.

    "Wait, wait, wait..." Cranston glared. "That's my job! I'm the advisor on 'Mech stuff!"

    "Indeed?" Ward clasped his hands behind his back. "Perhaps then I am surplus to requirements. Perhaps I could learn from you, Mr Snord. Tell me, should I be jingling or jangling more?"

    Ginelli looked back and forth between them utterly lost but able to see Cranston was not in his usual good mood.

    "If you have the time, I could give you the quick tour?" She offered as much to separate the two men. "Show you a little about what we do here?"

    "That would be extremely useful, thank you Doctor." Ward nodded to Cranston. "Until later, Mr Snord."

    She very quickly and pointedly led Ward away from the fuming Cranston, directing him along the edges of their building toward the mech hangars.

    "So you knew Cranny from before?" Ginelli sparked some conversation. "Was he always, you know, what he is?"

    "Eccentric? Yes. Captivated by trinkets of the long forgotten past? Certainly," Ward acknowledged. "He would never have fitted in with my command, but he is undeniably skilled, after his own fashion. He is a valuable asset, and while I have more to offer to this facility, in this particular role, Snord is eminently useful. I would recommend retaining his services."

    "But you should be the chief advisor?"

    "It would be a better use of available resources. I bring more information and experience with me, especially technical sources," Ward spoke simply. "As chief of this science cas... department, I am sure you are keen to learn more advanced means of arming and operating BattleMechs?"

    "Always," Ginelli confirmed. "Right now we're experimenting with swap out weapon kits. Trying to shrink our own weapons to fit into existing mechs."

    "An excellent idea. Modularity is a doctrine to aspire toward."

    "Our main focus right now though is control systems, like Humpty over there."

    Ward peered over the range to spot a stripped down mech pacing back and forth.

    "An Urbanmech?"

    "Yes, Humpty, we call him. Our first donation and a big help. You could call him the daddy of all Earth Force mechs."

    "Well, that must be a nice accolade for such a humble machine," Ward allowed. "What is it doing?"

    "Helmetless control."

    That caught Ward's attention. "How so?"

    "Artificial Intelligence." Ginelli answered. "We've been trying to get this working since day one. Replacing the human brain tied in with neurohelmets with an automatic system that corrects for balance and movement with no direct input."

    "And it works?"

    "To a degree. It's still experimental," she reluctantly admitted. "We can't match the speed and smoothness of a neurohelmet. We can push it through basic movements, get it running and turning at speed, but rapid changes and athletics aren't happening. But drones are, fully automated mechs. That's going to happen."

    "Mechs without a mechwarrior?" Ward seemed physically pained by the suggestion. "They will always be inferior."

    "No doubt about it, one on one, maybe up to three on one. But two hundred to one?" Ginelli twinkled a smile. "We're a small little group in the big scheme of things. We don't have the armies the Inner Sphere can raise, so we need a way to counter that. If we can make the AI run those things well enough to move and shoot at even a basic level, that'll help."

    "It has been tried before, it never worked."

    "Well, its worth trying again," Ginelli enthused. "This is a new field for us. AI development is pretty heavily restricted, but we've had some desperate times lately."

    "I can appreciate innovation," Ward allowed grudgingly. "But I assure you, with the help I can give, you won't need artificial MechWarriors. I can share our technological advances, let you leap ahead a couple of centuries. I would require some additional assurances from your government, but I am more than willing to help expand your BattleMech potential."

    "But how do you know what our potential is?" Ginelli asked honestly. "Our weapons and cooling technology are more advanced, our material science will soon catch up. Once we crack how your fusion reactors work differently to ours, I'm confident we can create a mech with a perfect balance of speed, protection, and firepower. Our second generation designs are already incorporating electromagnetic barriers to help scatter energy weapons, something taken from our warships. Can you really offer us much more?"

    "More doesn't always translate to better, and with my help you may find paths neither of us has considered."

    "Can I show you something?" Ginelli turned to the hanger. "You have clearance to be here right?"

    "Your security detachment was very thorough in their checks," Ward assured. "I have authorization from your President... from our President." That was taking some getting used to.

    "Alright, let me show you my two pet projects, give you an idea of where we are."

    She led him to the main hanger, several dozen techs hard at work among the gantries.

    "That's Sir Isaac, by the way, our Warhammer." The enthusiastic woman pointed out as they passed. "We use him for weapons testing. Those big pods we're attaching are gatling pulse cannons Cranston fetched from the Thunderbolt project."

    "Thunderbolt? The heavy mech?"

    "Our new multirole fighter, the first prototype is due in the sky very soon. They're handling it at the base on the opposite side of town." Ginelli smiled. "Four times the firepower of a Uni-pulse cannon."

    "Cranston Snord fetched them?" Ward gave her a look. "With the approval of the base commanders?"

    "Well yes, I mean..." She closed her eyes. "Oh no. Oh hell no. I'm going to have to give them back tomorrow morning aren't I?"

    "It might be worth asking the other engineers if they are missing anything," Ward nodded. "But I have no doubt they will be excellent weapons."

    "Oh, that wasn't what I wanted to show you, those are going to be standard issue." Ginelli kept walking. "Left bay."

    Ward followed her direction and found himself admiring a sleek fighter plane, cleanly polished bearing the Earth Force badge. A perfectly good looking aircraft.

    "It's a LAM," she informed him. "Land-Air mech, I've been wanting one ever since I heard about the idea. We found a couple of wrecks, studied some museum pieces. My team wanted to just copy one, but no. I insisted we build our own to test and see if we could. That is the first unique Earth Alliance Battlemech, the Sylph."

    "I respect the achievement, but I fear you may have selected the wrong machine to start with." Ward scrutinised the design. "The LAM concept has limited utility."

    "Oh, I know. This isn't meant to be a mass production model, we probably won't even make more than one squadron," Ginelli agreed. "It hasn't even flown yet because the only test pilot crazy enough to get in is busy working out the Thunderbolt prototype. It has engines several times more powerful than the T-bolt is going to fly with, it has more guns, cyclone plasma cannons, Uller lasers, gauss cannons. On a fighter jet! Do you see the sheen on the hull? We coated this thing in powdered Minbari pieces, bits of their fighters and warships we shot off and recovered at immense risk. The Minbari use a type of crystal that refracts a sizeable portion of energy weapons fire. We can't replicate that yet, but we can do this! Nearly the same thing!" She beamed as she reveled in the design. "It has active stealth fields developed for a project they won't even confirm exists, it has control systems so advanced I am pretty sure they are Hyach tech, it has an energy web that is the closest we can get to true electromagnetic shielding. This mech, this thing you see here, is the amalgamation of our most potent military technology. We built this spectacularly over engineered machine, Mr Ward, because we can."

    He looked at the scientist, her eyes alight with a fanatical passion. She absolutely obsessed about her work. In her own way, she was as single minded as any warrior.

    "What will you do with this mech?"

    "After tests? Probably nothing, maybe stuff we'll never hear about if they find a good enough pilot." She shrugged. "It's a proof of concept. It's to show the Senate and the Generals what we can do here, what the potential is. We'll never build more than a few, because it uses incredibly rare materials, the engine alloys, the alien components, the sheer complexity... we could have had a division of Marauders for the cost of that one test craft. When it comes down to it, that is what the military will chose, squadrons of Thunderbolts and regiments of Marauders, because they aren't idiots."

    "But this will exist as a demonstration of your ability, as scientists and engineers." Ward understood. "You built it because it was impossible, to show you could."

    "If we can make this, we can make anything. Hopefully for a lot cheaper." Ginelli nodded. "Same for the Monster."

    Ward gave her a look.

    "You made another?"

    She giggled mischievously.

    "Ever wondered what a four hundred ton mech with battleship cannons might look like? Wanna see?"



    "I'm glad you could fit me in." Edward Morden smiled, a plastic smile that looked pleasant, but had little behind it. "I know Kerlin Ward is due later today. Interesting story there."

    "So I heard." Anna Sheridan steepled her hands in front of her, adopting a headmistress like posture, arms resting on her desk. "Is this about my funding request?"

    "No, the board of directors is still debating that," Morden answered. "Honestly though, IPX is in the middle of shifting its resources. I wouldn't expect much more for the Cooperland dig."

    "The city still has countless secrets to give up," Anna defended. "This project is vital not just to Earth, but to the whole Inner Sphere! Helping them uncover their own history!"

    "I know and I agree. Actually, that's kind of why the board sent me." Morden kept smiling. "We've been here a few years now, and between the Minbari war, the leap, the loss of resources... IPX has had a hard time. The good news is that we've adapted, restructured for this new reality we find ourselves in. Bottom line is, it's time to go back to what we do best."

    "Which is...?"

    "Interplanetary Expeditions, of course." He grinned wider. "The Senate has renewed our charter and updated it for this new location. IPX is back in business. We're going back out there into the larger galaxy to begin our survey and excavation work again."

    "In the Inner Sphere?" Anna asked, her interest rising.

    "That's right, the Sphere, the Periphery, anywhere we want," Morden confirmed. "We've commissioned our first new Explorer, one with a KF drive and DropShip support, a hybrid of Earth and Sphere technology. She'll be ready early next year."

    "What's the first mission?"

    "We don't know. That will be up to the Project Manager and the board."

    "Who's the manager? Chang? Trent? Bryson?"

    "Actually, the board want you." That smile never faded.

    "Me?" Anna laughed slightly. "I don't have the field work to..."

    "You're running the dig here, and you're pretty much the day to day manager of this facility given Dr Ginelli's... erratic nature. Plus your work on the old capital makes you the most familiar with Star League technology. You are IPX's resident expert, the perfect fit."

    "Look, Mr Morden..."

    "Dr Chang spoke highly of you. There's no one better qualified to lead a major expedition like this." He cut her off. "Now, this is a major operation, minimum five years and given the distances, you might not get home much, so the board understands if you'd prefer to pass."

    "I didn't say that," she corrected. "It's just a surprise."

    "It'll be months before this project is ready, plenty of time to make up your mind. If you let us know by the end of the year, that's fine."

    She nodded, the possibilities racing. This was the sort of thing she had signed up for, the chance to make discoveries that could alter civilisation. She'd expected to be hunting alien technology, but lost human technology held an appeal all of its own.

    "We'd be looking for military technology?" She wondered.

    "In part, but from the records we've looked at, the Star League had some amazing pieces of mega-engineering. For instance, their terraforming technology, material sciences, genetic therapy. All of it far beyond our own attempts," Morden clarified. "With the recent disaster on Mars, Earth is suddenly obsessed with technological advancement again."

    "That black ship reminded us not to sit on our laurels."

    "Exactly." Morden nodded. "You know I was there? Saw it up close."

    "What was it like?"

    "Beautiful. Beautiful beyond words." He answered honestly. "It was awesome, and I mean that in the most fundamental way I can. It inspired awe, pure absolute awe. And then terror. I was lucky to survive, most of my friends didn't. But for all the horror, for how scared and small that thing reminded me I was, it also showed me what we could be. There's so much left to discover out there, I want to be part of that."

    "So do I," she responded just as candidly. "I'll need to think about it."

    "Of course. Take some time."

    "But this opportunity, this could be my life's work." Anna nodded thoughtfully. "I'll be in contact Mr Morden."

    He kept smiling.

    "I never once doubted it."



    "What did he think of Monster?" Rhonda Snord looked up at the clouds, stretched out on the grass, with her coat folded up behind her head.

    "He said it would be destroyed by a scout lance before had a chance to shoot anything." Ginelli stared at the same clouds beside her.

    "He's right." Cranston rounded out the sky gazing trio. "You know Amaris..."

    "I know, he said the same thing," Ginelli bit back, remembering Kerlin Ward's attitude. "He's smart, but he thinks nobody else can see what he sees. We do, we just sometimes we like to go ahead and build titanic mechs anyway. Just because!"

    "Preaching to the choir." Cranston smiled.

    "I think Monster's rad," Rhonda declared. "It's bodacious."

    Her father tilted his head, face bemused.

    "What the hell have you been listening to now?"

    "Chillax dad, don't have a cow."

    Ginelli laughed lightly to herself. This was one hundred percent Michael Garibaldi's doing.

    "Well, if you're having fun." He looked back skyward. "So, about that car..."

    "If it's gone tomorrow, I won't say anything," Ginelli proposed. "And you go and apologise to Commander Sinclair for stealing his pulse cannons."

    "We needed them more!"

    "Cranny!" She wagged a finger. "What did I just say?"

    "Fine. But when I teach that car to fight crime..."

    "You have a crime fighting car!" Rhonda turned sharply.

    "Not yet, but soon. It has an AI and it's programmed for good. Actually, it's probably too good. I guess the designers saw too many movies where AI nukes the world, so they went way over the other side with this one."

    "It's a prototype autonomous taxi, same basic software we're using on Humpty," Ginelli clarified after spending an hour checking the vehicle out. "That's the civilian version, they gave it a personality to make it more friendly."

    "They made it so helpful it wants to end crime." Cranston smiled. "I love it."

    "What happens when it finds out it's stolen goods?" Rhonda pondered. "Will it go crazy and explode?"

    "No, I mean... no? Doctor?"

    "It isn't that advanced, it's just a quirk in the programming." Ginelli shrugged. "Sorry to pop that bubble."

    "What happens when it finds out dad's a megalomaniac kleptomaniac?"

    "How are you learning these words?"

    "Mikey."

    "You need to control your man, Professor," Cranston grumbled. "Filling my girl's head with crazy ideas. That car is going straight in the museum."

    Ginelli smiled again, smiled genuinely. It had been a while since Garibaldi had been sent on assignment again and it never got less lonely. She found herself leaning on Cranston and Rhonda quite a lot in his absence, the easy going mechwarrior unofficially adopting her as an older, but just as eccentric second daughter. It helped.

    "He liked the Sylph though, right?" Rhonda went back to the last topic.

    "Everyone likes the Sylph." Cranston grinned. "Twenty bills says that by tomorrow he offers to pilot it."

    "It's reserved for Sinclair and everyone knows it." Ginelli replied. "I mean he brought back most of the Minbari pieces it's coated in."

    "I think that's my favourite part. He's going to fly a jet painted in the powdered corpses of his earlier kills." Cranston chuckled. "I am definitely going to do that one of these days. Little bits of Marik mech glued to my ride."

    "Me too." Rhonda nodded enthusiastically. "You're still giving me Monster, right?"

    "If I can, sure, but you know how it is."

    "Yeah, guess so." Rhonda exhaled. "Buzz kill."

    "You still thinking about calling the science minister?" Cranston leveled his voice, becoming serious. "You should you know, you're wasted here."

    "I'm doing good work," Ginelli countered.

    "You're piecing together toys," he returned. "You punted a Fu...fudging sun, Angie! Into a different continuum! Yeah, the 'Mechs are cool, but you are a hyperspace physicist, not an engineer."

    "And what if I do it again?"

    "Will you? Do you know why it happened?"

    "Yes, actually, I do. But when they ask for proof, what do I say? It came to me in a dream?"

    "All the best stuff does," Cranston dismissed. "You belong back on Earth. I love you Angie, you are a breath of freshly caffeinated air, but you don't belong here."

    She closed her eyes. He was right, her work was different. But she was afraid to go back, to face her peers after her mistake.

    "What can I say? What about all the people left behind? I did that."

    "And you can fix it."

    "I don't know if I can."

    "I do, you already said you found a way to identify dimensions. That's ridiculously huge! That's a Nobel prize!"

    "I don't want a Nobel prize."

    "So accept it and donate it to my museum."

    "Cranny."

    "Seriously Angie, you've probably cracked more of this than all those other scientists combined. This is your specialty, your work, and yeah, your responsibility."

    "But how do I face them?"

    "Screw it." Cranston growled. "How do they face you?"

    "I... I don't know..."

    "Has anyone ever said thank you?" he asked pointedly. "Did they ever thank you for what you did?"

    "Why would they?"

    "Because you saved them. You saved the world, the whole world. You were this close to extinction, Angie. They needed a miracle and they got you, which, for the record, is way better than a miracle, because miracles don't keep being this funny for this long. A fudging LAM. All the tech in the world and you build a fudging LAM."

    "I like transformers! And that's not the point!"

    "A LAM that cost triple digit billions. I sometimes wonder if you're real and then remember you have to be, because fiction isn't this crazy." Cranston grinned. "They don't deserve you, but here you are. You are a good person, and like I keep saying, the smartest person in the universe. Go home Angie, walk right through the front doors in your mismatched shoes, carrying that gallon jug of coffee, and you tell them you're going to open the way back home."

    "You really have that much faith in me?"

    "We all do," Cranston confirmed. "Me, Rhonda, big mouth Mikey. It's about time you got some fu...dging respect."

    "Right on." Rhonda joined the chorus. "So we jail breaking?"

    "We're jail breaking." Cranston nodded. "Pack a bag Angie, we're going to Earth."

    "But you aren't allowed on Earth." Ginelli blinked at him.

    "Pack a bag, and as you do that, I'm going to explain why we call it a jail break."



    Posted for @Spartan303, since he's busy.
     
    Intended Story Plans
  • T_T ... there is a "Plan B", yes?
    Maybe:

    Article:
    Our next step was going to be a broader Marik/Liao conflict as Candace uses the Wolves to buff Anton Marik's revolt. That goes mainly as canon though with Anton losing his cool and Comstar prodding him to screw with the Wolves. Meanwhile Sheridan and the EA figure out Candace is behind the attacks on the Periphery to sow chaos on the border and pre-emptively tie them up so she can pull troops from that region to commit to Marik. Instead it will bring Canopus, Auriga and the Taurians into a very loose coalition with Earth to defend themselves. This is boosted by Anna Sheridan and IPX securing Castle Nautilus and it's brigade of Star League mechs and the EA deciding to share them with their three new comrades. They create a task force manned by all four nations with some EA warships as a sort of Periphery defence group. They would likely make some punitive raids on Liao.

    Meanwhile Anton turns on the Wolves, but this time you also have Romano and a couple of elite Liao regiments in the mix so things are a lot more sticky. Luckily thanks to Sheridan and the Agamemnon being nearby (ish) the Wolves are evacuated after killing Anton but before Liao overwhelms them. Casualties are still heavy as canon, but with ex-Khan Ward now working with the EA the Wolves end up based in EA space and slowly begin to lay the foundations of Clan Wolf in exile.

    Liao is now in an all out war with Marik and its starting to get nasty. Janos is rallying, Anton is dead and Liao was already pretty weak. While this is happening Comstar learns the Davions and Steiner are secretly building warships with the starship tech sold to them by the EA, they let Draconis know this and continue giving them Star League grade ASFs and nukes. Kurita knows if he just sits there and allows his enemies to bring back warships it's over, so he starts setting up his own pre-emptive strike with a carrier task force.

    Mallory's world happens, but thanks to his superior mech and some backup from Garibaldi's platoon Ian Davion survives and continues to rule the Suns. Hanse hits Halstead but in another alteration Dana survives. They marry and he assumes a role as commander of a new Guards Regiment equipped with EA tech mechs.

    And then Kurita attacks for real and things escalate.

    While this is happening the EA is trying to tighten relations with the periphery and turn them into a viable powerbase. It isn't really working, but with the Great Houses now in all out war the Periphery is banding together out of fear. The EA is maintaining neutrality but a growing movement led by a certain Morgan Clark is becoming more vocal about throwing some weight around. Kurita in particular is indulging in more than the usual warcrimes, they know this might be their final chance before Davion and Steiner drop warships and EA tech mechs on them so they aren't holding back. In response neither is anyone else and we're seeing nuclear strikes from Kurita and orbital bombardment from Davion. Civilian losses are rapidly increasing and Clark's faction is demanding the EA do something.

    President Santiago refuses, he continues working with the Periphery but apart from selling some resources to Steiner and Davion offers no intervention. Sitting by while billions are being killed ultimately causes his government to break and in a snap election Clark wins. He increases military aid to his allies while also launching an invasion of Liao space from the Periphery. Clark doesn't dick around and for all his outcry at civilian casualties he deploys nukes and mass drivers against Liao. This pushes them to breaking point and forces a surrender, Liao loses much of its territory to Marik, Davion and now Clark with its remaining core worlds little more than puppets.

    With Liao broken and Clark arming up Davion and Steiner Kurita also stands down. Because the war was exceptionally brutal all three sides are exhausted, Kurita loses about a quarter of its territory and Rasalhague with each of the three powers understanding this is just a pause in combat while they recover for a final showdown a few years later.

    Simultaneously Earth finally cracks dimensional tech. A first they can only open a pathway back home a few molecules wide, enough to send a comms signal but not much more. The signal is enough for a Technomage to locate them and with subtle help from the Walkers the Mage is able to skip over, probably use Alwyn for this as he's a good guy. Together they are able to construct a modified jumpgate which will allow ships to travel back and forth to the home universe. Plans are laid for a mission to liberate the surviving colonies which are under Minbari occupation.

    For their part the Minbari are beginning to crack, the Vorlons require humanity to survive for their future plans but the Warrior caste resjects this as dishonorable. The schism is small but growing as tensions are rising galaxy wide. The Narn and Centauri go to war and it ends as expected. Earth is meanwhile building two new stations, a mobile Babylon 4 to support the colonial operation, and a more hastily built babylon 5 to secure the far side of the dimensional gateway. Earth Force deploys the fleet it has long been building and starts retaking its colonies at immense cost.

    While Earth is committed to this rescue mission to evac its colonies the Clans choose to attack ahead of schedule. By this point Davion and Steiner have a few warships and can offer some resistance, and their upteched mechs are quite effective, but the Clans have been on a full war footing for years and are taking this very seriously. As their enemies have ships, decent tech and increased numbers its a stand up fight, no bidding down forces in most circumstances. WHile still considered a liberation atrocities do happen and Inner Sphere resistance is fierce.

    Observing Earth is weak Comstar decides to take the opportunity to finally grab that tech they've been after and diminish EA influence. Babylon 3 is finding itself a hub for refugees fleeing the Clans, Comstar shows up with its previously unknown navy and offers protection, they'll defend B3 from the Clans if it agrees to submit to their rule. WIth the EA fleet fully deployed fighting the Minbari there are only two destroyers in the Sphere coordinating the refugees, with the Clan offensive bearing down on them.

    Babylon 3 refuses and finds itself taking on the Comstar fleet. Initial attacks are pushed back with help from the destroyers, but Comstar commits its full force and is sent backup from the Clans who also want the station. Babylon 3 destroys itself rather than be captured, it's survivors evacuating to Steiner space after a glorious last stand. President Clark is furious and diverts his reserve to exact punishment, Clan Wolf in exile supported by as many divisions as Clark can spare launches an attack on Terra itself. Spearheaded by shiny new Warlock destroyers the Comstar and supporting Clan warships are driven back and Terra occupied. This is the moment the Clans begin to split as Warden and Crusader divisions resurface especially in Clan Wolf. Crusader leadership is challenged with the Wardens finally returning to the top, driven in no small part by tales of war with genocidal aliens.

    As this is going on Earth Force is finishing up it's evacuation of its home colonies and transporting survivors home. The main fleet has been hitting Minbari space so the evac can proceed uninterrupted and while losses are high KF drives allow a more efficient hit and run doctrine to be used. The Minbari are also taking losses which makes life hard when the Shadows finally step up. The Centauri had long been corrupted and have taken the place the EA would have filled, SHadow tech Centauri warships sweeping into Minbari and Orieni space laying waste to all they see.

    Earth completes its evacuation and begins to withdraw, Clark content to leave the galaxy to its fate despite pleas for help. This attitude changes when Shadow vessels are detected within Sphere space, Kurita territory in particular seemingly being quite attractive to them.

    The Technomages determine that while Earth wants to leave and slam the door shut behind it someone else has created their own doorway which the Shadows are using. The Shadows won't leave such a marvellous playground alone so after much debate it is determined that the only way to stop this new universe going the same way as the old one is to defeat the Shadows once and for all.

    A grand union of mankind joins the fight, with Babylon 4 as its base and the immense resources of the Inner Sphere coupled with EA industrial might led by the battle hardened warriors of each nation. It is an extremely powerful force, but it's enemy is also mighty. A vicious battle takes place to liberate Minbar from the Centauri before the new alliance links up with Centauri dissidents to otherthrow the corrupted government. Mechs from across the Inner Sphere, the Periphery and Clan space battle Shadow monstrosities on dozens of worlds while in space Sheridan, Hanse and Katrina Steiner gather as many allies as possible. Key among them are the Walkers, the ancient dimension hopping aliens who have been quietly helping humanity and are getting a bit sick of all these petty squabbles.

    Things reach the end during the storming of Z'Ha'Dum witht he Walkers recalling their fleet from across the multiverse to finally break the Shadows and set the Vorlons straight. Kosh, still alive here, has been building a consensus among his people to overrule the more aggresive faction of Ulkesh and finally end this conflict. The massed allied fleets and the Walkers ultimately inflict enough damage on the Shadows and Ulkesh's people to force a halt to the fighting, the long contest between Vorlon and Shadow rendered void as the players refuse to participate any further. The surviving First Ones decide to leave guided by Lorien and Earth remains in the Inner SPhere, though with the doorway left open and peaceful relations restored with the alien powers.



    It would have taken my forever :p And probably a lot of stuff would be altered on the fly as things worked or didn't based on feedback and commentary. For instance I'd also be working in that Ian survives until he is killed by the Clans and this is where Hanse takes over, but Hanse is married to Dana quite happily and it will probably be his eldest son that marries Melissa Steiner and unites that dynasty. Plus the long vengeance quest with the Dragoons vs Comstar when they figure out they were behind Anton's betrayal. Lot of Clan shenanigans too to detail, Clark getting replaced by Sheridan Snr when he pushes too hard with his totalitarian policies, Candace Liao being devious, just masses of stuff.

    Last stand of B3 would have been pretty nifty though, had some good imagery for that, so I think I'll likely use the story of B3 as the foundation for the smaller and tighter version I'm lining up

     
    Intended Story Plans 2
  • Some more planned stuff:
    Article:
    Essentially acquisition of telepaths would be a major play by the Great Houses, each one making deals with different groups to smuggle teeps away from the Corps in exchange for their services. There wouldn't be much distinction, even the fairly friendly powers would be paying any price to get some high quality teeps. Bester and his unit would be trying to stop this which would take him across the galaxy, he'd end up based on B3 and would be working often with Anna Sheridan and Morden using IPX as a front. (IPX also would have a plot graverobbing and later outright stealing anything it could)

    Later once a way home was opened and the truth of the Shadows was found Psi Corps would assist in the war out of both revenge and self preservation, a Shadow win would be very bad for all telepaths in the end. Bester fills that role as necessary evil, he's far too useful to kill even though he really deserves it. Undecided if he survives, but probably not.

    Also had an amusing thought about the Minbari warrior caste getting so desperate they conscript Deathwalker to fight the Shadows for them. Likely ends in betrayal.

    Article:
    Also, now I'm curious because I love stories that involve the Clans, what was the plan for what happened to the Nova Cats, Smoke Jags, and Fade Falcons? Or, really just any of the serious crusader factions? Would it've been same as in canon, where they're crushed and viciously ground to paste before they can recover? Or would they have a larger part as a genuine threat and additional antagonistic faction?
    My initial thought is that Hazen is far more cold blooded than Leo Showers was, and while the Crusader factions are in the lead and will take heavy losses she keeps her people on a tighter leash. Less obvious warcrimes, fewer examples of honour before logic, she'll recognise the Great Houses as peer opponents and will treat them as such. Ultimately Clans gonna Clan so there'll be plenty of duels, batchalls, bidding wars despite orders from above to fight all in and so on, but less than canon making this a much harder fight.

    In the end though logistics still ends up being critical, and while Hazen isn't killed as Showers was we do have Khan Ward and the Wolves taking Terra first which technically makes them the IlClan, though as they aren't exactly official. With Terra taken, resistance solidifying and the Great Houses counter attacking theyll end up with a ceasefire, Hazen is replaced as IlKhan by a Warden (Though not a Wolf) and while the Crusaders are planning their own version of a trial of refusal when the ceasefire terms end they'll be pre-empted by news that a hostile alien power is preparing to invade.

    With all humanity at stake the Clans unite and enthusiastically throw themselves into war with Shadow minions. They likely take extreme losses as I imagine they always want to be first into action and tend to fight to the end, but they'll also be hugely effective and earn a reputation as mankind's shocktroops.

    Article:
    It was going to be that the First Ones had ended up wiping each other out in some grand war hundreds of millions of years early with the exception of the local version of the Walkers. Because most B5 species had been manipulated by the Vorlons during evolution (Which is why everyone is a bipedal humanoid of some variation) the lack of Vorlons mean only humans evolved naturally and on all those other worlds you just have primates, reptiles, whatever the first link would have been :)

    The exception would be the Gaim who do seem to have evolved on their own and they would be the only other shared species. If I recall the Gaim live in underground hives with no technology and their planet has a thick toxic atmosphere so any Star League survey likely just wrote it off and flew straight past without discovering them
     
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