InaG Chpt 7

==It's not a Gundam - Chapter 7 - Five Kings, One Knave==
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===Lessons Gleamed from Sulla===
Archon's Office, Triad
Tharkad, Lyran Commonwealth
March 3025
War wasn't rare. Depending on who you asked in some ways war was a business. War was a sport. War was a way of life. War came and went like the seasons.
 
The fact that a war was being waged against the Marian Hegemony elicited shrugs and dismissed comments surmounting to 'Good Riddance'.
 
Then the news came out. By word of mouth and by leaks and the press a story began to form.
 
At its center was a masked man, the leader of some forgotten Periphery world. His strategies, his tactics, his weapons.
 
The Tieren was the first working Superheavy. At over 120 tons empty according to mercenary testimony and the word of leaks, it defied the limit set by Amaris' folly. Its surprising speed and capabilities in space only drew the envy of Lyrans everywhere.
 
And the ire of one Archon.
 
The Defiance Industries representative puffed up his chest, trying to make himself bigger. Unfortunately for him Katrina's withering glare would have turned him into a eunuch if the queen by any other name had psychic powers. His proposal lay on one side of the desk on the other was her computer displaying the Battle of Sulla in all it's bloody glory.
 
Testimonies were one thing. Battle ROMs were another.
 
She already knew that the Moebius was a topic being debated in the aviation industry and naval circles. But the gaze of the Lyran people was on the ground battle.
 
Coalition dropships and ASFs descended upon Sulla in force. Rather than landing the Junkers forces dropped their Mechs midflight. Their engineers were clever enough to cut out the middleman eschewing VTOL transport craft and directly mounting VTOL systems onto the mech themselves.
 
They dropped right on top the Sulla forces. While the Aries and that almost Lyran-colored dropper picked off Marians up above, the Junkers wreaked havoc across the Roman defenses with allied forces encircling an already disorganized force.
 
In the middle of it was the Tieren. It battled the centerpiece of the Marian garrison: the Commander's Atlas. The sole Assault on planet. Its strength was obvious. It outright backhanded a Marian Locust and the poor big mech was thrown to the side of a building before crumpling into a heap. Oddly enough Tieren's own weapons only paled to it in comparison. The arm-mounted cannons did well enough to drive away infantry and rip apart tanks and gunships that wandered to close, but the Atlas shrugged it off and replied in turn. Half a dozen of Lasers, AC/20 shells, even a full barrage from SRM launchers struck it but its armor was so thick it may as well have been solid fortress walls bolted onto the chassis.
 
Battle was met. Two giants clashed like something from myth. But the Tieren' was the better. The Atlass arms groaned as the green Superheavy forced them apart and pushed the Marian back. It was stronger. Archon realized. Also faster; the Tieren boosted away avoiding a desperate second Alpha Strike from the Roman. Apparently it had hovercraft for legs. With a speed unnatural for something its size it twisted around, smashing the Atlas into the side of a building with a brutal shoulder check and then punching the Assault ... right through the armored skull face.
 
She turned back to the representative, "You expect me to believe that Defiance can build THAT in a Year?"
 
The man from defiance swallowed, "Y-yes... with the proper funding we can recreate a Superheavy Atlas. Capable of matching a Periphery Frankenmech."
 
"Why?"
 
He blinked, "Why what?"
 
"You are asking me to give you taxpayer's Kroner for a mech that is over a hundred tons ... For what?"
 
"But Milady Archon the Tieren exists-"
 
"It does." She confirmed, "But does the LCAF need it just because it is larger or because it can fit the role and mission requirements we ask for?"
 
Too many times lighter DCMS Mechs ran circles around Lyran Heavy and Assault lances. Too many times the Free Worlds League capitalized on the fact that the LCAF failed to actively respond, or that they relied upon sheer industry and numbers rather than tactical thinking.
 
The man froze, with a stiff sudden bow he failed to give her an answer and ran with tail between his legs.
 
"What do you think, Simon?"
 
The silent observer finally spoke. "Sulla fell faster than expected. They've already absconded with whatever equipment they can and destroyed any leftover Marian material. Lyran Merchant-Marine reports that the Sulla invasion forces are are moving to assist the assault on the second of the three worlds. Our agents in the Free Worlds League are reporting of a Marik Anti-Marian taskforce is already en route as well. Jano smells blood."
 
"Where did Janos get the men? Wouldn't Parliament cause a stink?"
 
"They are mercenaries." He explained, "Personally financed by House Marik. Ironically enough he is using assets seized from OUR operations in the League."
 
"Everything to gain and nothing to lose." She muttered.
 
"His secretary is acting as liaison."
 
"The AMBAC theorist?"
 
"The one and the same. Katrina since her inception she has been a terrifyingly competent aid. I've heard ... rumors of LOKI targeting her."
 
"Make sure they stay rumors." She commanded, "The Third Succession War has ended and we aren't ready for the Fourth yet. Now an update on Lockheed?"
 
"In the middle of creating AMBAC-capable ASFs. The Lightning and Rapier prototype here on Tharkad are ready for testing. Though they are trying to beat Boeing to the punch. I can't attest to their quality."
Boeing. As in Federated-Boeing, Davion's Lockheed.
 
"They shouldn't be rushing." She stood up, "We're meant to cooperate with the Federated Suns. Not compete. Not yet at least. I'll see them for myself ... and tell them and Boeing corporate espionage needs to stop. Now. I will NOT lose good Lyran engineers in 'accidents'."
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===Technology never seen before===
Enroute to the NAIS
New Avalon, Federated Suns
NMarch 3025
Boeing and Lockheed announced cooperation in producing AMBAC ASFs. Although that didn't make the front headlines.
 
No, it was the Battle of Remus as The Exarch and Sir Mashmyre, the Rose Knight, figures out of pulp and legend, hurled themselves into the fray backed by an ever-growing army of volunteers, pro bono mercenaries, and freed slaves.
 
Remus was swept by sheer numbers. Overwhelmed and encircled Maniples of Legio I were shattered one after the other. Leading the charge like Knights in shining armor were the Tieren and Aries.
 
He continued reading the exploits that both the reports of agents and sympathizers attested to as well as what the press could cobble together. Even doing so on the drive from his office to the NAIS.
 
Plastered right on the front page of the New Avalon Times was the image of the Aries battling a Marian Medium, in this case, a Centurion looking even more Roman with the Marian's decorations. The screen capture was as well-timed as it was cinematic. The Centurion wielding a solid mech-scale sword shaped like a Gladius looked up as the Ares descended upon it, holding in it's hands a solid spear of dense steel and that wonder-material E-Carbon.
 
Davionists, or maybe just opportunists, were en route to New Avalon with fragments of E-Carbon. For all the technologies that the Junkers seem to pull out of a hat, E-Carbon had the most immediate use.
 
"You miss the frontlines don't you Hanse?" said his companion across the seats.
 
"It beats a desk, Yvonne." he admitted to his champion, "I can't retire with my duties as they are."
 
Yvonne Davion snorted, "As if I would want to retire and rot away somewhere warm. The Haseks are still plotting."
 
He rolled his eyes, "My in-laws are ALWAYS plotting. At least Morgan is unlike his father."
 
They arrived in NAIS without much fanfare, just plenty of armed guards. Even before Exarch decided to reveal himself the First Prince had been a frequent visitor watching his people slowly but surely undo centuries of lost technology.
 
And now we have new technology to consider. Hanse Davion thought to himself.
 
Outside a salute by his men both Davions ventured deeper into the NAIS and in a literal sense as they took a lift level underneath the New Avalon surface. If the NAIS was the most fortified university campus then this was a space that would require dropping a whole asteroid to actually breach.
 
There, busy in his work was Dr. Bartholomew 'Buckaroo' Banzai, who stood over a computer console as the team that had his namesake was feverishly working like manic bees. His team members didn't bother to salute, neither did he. Banzai simply looked up and saw his patron. Almost immediately he took to Hanse's side as a guide of the facility.
 
"While the AFFS asks for weapons that can bring down a Pocket Warship like the Ptolemaios," he explained, "We in fact possess plenty of options. From nuclear weapons to anti-ship missiles there are significant options already on the market."
 
"-But." Yvonne interjected, "I'm guessing there is a 'but'."
 
"But it requires a Delivery method." Banzai replied, "A missile is worthless without its carrier and there is always the chance that the enemy will shoot down the craft before it can launch."
 
He gestured to a testing room. Behind the reinforced glass was a Support PPC or rather a Light PPC, since the Aries unveiling it had become popular to mount the originally crew-served weapon onto mechs and other vehicles. With a gesture the weapon fired and the beam splashed against a semi-transparent sheet. Instead of melting like Standard Bar 10 Armor, the sheet glowed red hot. A hose splashed water on it and when the steam cleared the cooled-down sheet looked warped but still mostly in one piece.
 
"We call it Laminated Armor. It is based on heat shields used by spacecraft for atmospheric reentry. My chemists had been working to make the heat-resistant material durable enough for combat conditions. Due to the weight, we had to apply it as thin sheets hence the name. Second...."
 
A pair of men in hazmat suits grabbed the sheet and replaced it with a glossy metal plate. After clearing the firing zone the Light PPC fired again, and Yvonne and Hanse winced as a light show straight out of a disco came and went, replacing the glossy metal with a burnt but still intact plate.
 
"Reflective Armor. While it can absorb some heat it is better at refracting light. However, the crystalline material is more brittle than Standard Armor."
 
"Then we combine them." Hanse surmised, "There is no rule saying we can't use a layered approach or make them detachable inserts. The Tieren has large shields on it's arms and legs we can do the same. Better yet: actual shields. Plenty of mechs have hands and they aren't always in use."
 
Banzai scratched his chin, "Feasible. But it feels ..."
 
"Crude?" Hanse mused, "A slab of armor plating is still protection. On pre-industrial Terra, some men had protection that amounted to some nailed-together wooden planks.."
 
The First Prince stared at the PPC, imagining what it would be like to face down the Ptolemaios ... or the ships of wherever the Exarch REALLY came from. Was he one of Kerensky's people? Was he from some power in the deep periphery that hadn't faced a calamity like the Succession Wars? Hanse didn't know. But he would find out. And he wouldn't let the Federated Suns be caught with his pants down.
 
The good doctor continued his tour as the NAIS worked feverishly to ensure that would not come to pass.
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===Royal Decree by a "Great Man"===
The Thorne Room, Zi-Jin Cheng ("Forbidden City")Sian, Capellan ConfederationMarch 3025
The Tieren. It was Green. It was literally Chinese for 'Iron Man'. It led the charge against slavers, piloted by a man who was a skilled Mechwarrior, ASF pilot, and leader among men capable of molding disparate bands of Periphery-born into a professional fighting force. If only temporarily.
 
As the Emperor in all but name of the Capellan Confederation, as the rightful First Lord, Maximilian Liao was thinking. He had dismissed his advisers, his ministers, his aids, even his family and that left the Chancellor alone in his throne room contemplating what it all signified.
 
There were plenty of theories and questions juggled around. Sycophants vowed to recruit the Exarch and bring him to the fold, barely hiding the hunger for his technology. Fanatics loyal to his house either saw the Exarch as an insult to the Liao, or a man clearly loyal to the vision of the Celestial Wisdom.
 
Truthfully he had no need for slaves. It was wasteful. It did not consider the 'proper' role of the various peoples he called his Capellans. His society was a Caste-based society. Those meant to labor in life were meant to labor. Those who lead were meant to lead. It was to him the way of things.
 
Great Men, men like him, men like the Exarch, shaped history like the Camerons and like McKenna. It mattered not who was behind the mask, not a descendant of General Kerensky, a long lost Cameron, or even Elias Liao returned in the flesh. His actions spoke for himself.
 
He looked up, seeing through the crack of a window that he had been contemplating for the better part of a day.
 
With a sigh, Maximilian Liao tapped on a small bell that sat to the side of his throne. Almost immediately the throneroom was filled with servants, guards, and ministers all bowing in submission to the rightful ruler of all mankind.
 
"Announce to the Inner Sphere that in honor of the Kapetyn Accords and the ancient laws of the Star League; I, as First Lord, sign the death warrant of the Marian Hegemony for the crime of piracy, slavery, les majeste, and the disturbance of the First Lord's peace. A task force shall be readied for the righteous cause to join forces with our allies in the Free Worlds League. So let it be written, so let it be done."
 
He would have his foot in the door. Let Marik, Steiner, and Davion use proxies. Let the Dragon laze away and wait for scraps. His men weren't so weak to turn away from a long trek.
 
...and perhaps one of his children could prove useful for once.
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===Questioning ones Place in the Cosmos===
Captain-General's Office, Atreus City
Atreus, Free World's League
March 3025
"Father."
 
"Yes, Tom?"
 
"Do you ever wonder why we are here?"
 
Janos Marik set down his pen and looked at his heir across the business desk.
 
"Well, that is a good question. There is the scientific answer that can be boiled down to 'we just are' and I don't believe there is a creation myth involving Jerome Blake."
 
"Blessed Blake." Thomas Marik corrected, "Was a scientist and philosopher that my friends in the order revere as our founder and who we study the life and teachings of. They AREN'T a religion despite what people claim."
 
"Uh-huh, sure."
 
"No, what I'm saying is: Why are we in this room doing paperwork? Don't you have aides for this?"
 
"Outside of the ones doing basic admin duty? Just Dote. And she's leading the men I've hired on a murderous rampage."
 
Austro-Hungarian Blood. Magyar blood. Steppe Blood. ran through their veins. And there were times they needed to act on it.
 
Thomas winced, "Why isn't Paul here?"
 
The Captain-General pointed to a window, "Your brother was. He ran the moment I wasn't looking."
 
Thomas, future heir of a superpower groaned as his face fell into his hands, "...I should have just stayed in Comstar."
 
"Believe me being Captain-General is thankless work." Janos admitted, "You are trying to run a country made out of smaller countries that are unsure if they hate each other more or they hate you more."
 
"Then what's the plan?"
 
"There is none." he said, eyes looking straight down at a requisition form, "Following League Bureaucracy has led to THIS," he pointed to a stack of papers as thick as his head, "being watered down from THIS." Janos hand was raised to Thomas' height.
 
The future Captain-General paled.
 
"I do this because I care enough to make sure your mother's home doesn't catch fire when I'm not looking. She wished for a better Free Worlds League then we left it." Janos told his son.
 
"Then why do you keep pushing back against Comstar?" Thomas asked.
 
"Because Comstar pushes back against us, Tom. Rot is everywhere. I've had to deal with it here. I know why you left earlier than before."
 
Thomas stiffened. If slightly.
 
"I've learned enough that not a lot of people don't practice what they preach. God knows I haven't for a long time. It took my damn secretary to point out how much of a prick I was." stated Janos.
 
And still am. He would have said proudly ... if his son wasn't here.
 
"But..." He sighed, "We can do right by ourselves and with others. I've been fighting against foreign influence trying to break the league. Lyran, Capellan, ... Terran."
 
He rifled through the stack of papers and slapped one of them on the table. A petition for a peace proposal. The same proposal that Katrina Steiner had broadcasted to all members of the Inner Sphere.
 
"A lot of blood has been spilled. A lot of bad blood created." He spoke, "A lot of money being made. A lot of people wanting war just because it keeps them in power."
Janos slid it across the table and leaned back on his seat.
 
"I wanted peace, Tom. Hell. I hoped for peace. Between the stacks of papers asking me to give more money to make more Mechs I get these every so often."
 
"...You want me to push for peace?"
 
"I want you to FIND people who want peace not just here in the Free Worlds League, but in Comstar. We don't have enough of them here. Or anywhere else really."
 
Thomas took the paper. The Captain-General could see his son's face tighten reading the list of names.
 
"Some of these are your enemies in Parliament."
 
"But not yours," Janos answered, "You have a cleaner slate than what I started with. Use it."
 
"I will." Thomas stood up, "Thank you, Father."
 
Janos waved it off and went back to work. Interestingly the next document was chasing after another idea that Secelia wrote about: Sub-Flight Units. Flat-bedded Small craft capable of bringing individual mechs to and from space. A Dropship, in miniature form. Less expensive to build, less of a loss if shot down, allowing for various tactical and strategic options if used for combat vehicles or other cargo, even more if it was converted into an Aerospace Fighter.
 
The example was a design that Dote theorized.
Tickbalang, named after a monster of Filipino myth.
 
If it was anyone else Janos would have said no immediately, bBut he knew Secelia. He knew his secretary.
 
The Captain-General was in the middle of grabbing his stamp of approval before he froze. The stack of paperwork was still there ... and he just let the last of his help go.
 
"....fuck."
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===Dragon hungers===
Imperial Palace
Luthien, Draconis Combine
March 3025
The last of the three worlds targeted had burned wild and violent. This wasn't a military base or a supply depot for the Marians.
 
It was a pleasure world. A place where the Roman parodies would relax, and indulge in their loot and depravity. A place that had it been in Combine Space, he would personally behead every 'man' who walked its soil.
 
The Junker-led coalition struck without warning. The world of New Venus found out too late that its neighbors were already facing invasions themselves and their ships were either burning wrecks drifting in the void or captured. It had fallen quickly even without the Exarch's help. The few guards on hand were quickly overwhelmed and their equipment piled up alongside unmarred battlemechs whose mechwarriors failed to even board them.
 
The Coalition put to the sword pirates drunken to a stupor or high on narcotics. It was no honorable battle. It was pest control. He did not care for the fight here as he did the invasions of Remus and Sulla.
 
Takashi Kurita learned of the things occurring after. The ISF agent on that far end of human civilization had retired, but chose to embed himself with the coalition as a militia member, even sacrificing himself to ensure whatever information he compiled was relayed to him. With the man dead he could not punish him for disobeying his orders. Instead, he made a mental note to ensure his family would be cared for and the spy given honors for his loyalty to The Dragon.
 
As he sat in the garden of the Imperial Palace he did so sharing tea with the man who held the Dragon's secrets. His friend and ISF director Subhash Indrahar was always serene, even when torturing men out of their secrets. The Coordinator couldn't read Subhash's face even more so now.
 
"Interesting," Subhash commented.
"Concerning." Kurita answered back, "The field of artificial intelligence only got so far as to create drones that simply shot at what didn't have the correct markers on them until they or their target was dead."
 
"That is a simplification of the SDS, my friend and you know it. They gave General Kerensky plenty of trouble."
 
The last image that the ISF agent managed to take was a dozen robotic arms and dozens more spherical robots descending upon the man with guns and power tools.
 
"From the report," the spymaster observed, "this Exarch has been open about his technology. The press already spoke about the high level of automation by him and the Junkers. Now we know of the extent."
 
"Not truly. That large white tarp in the cargo hold was something that the machines were all protecting. Whatever it is it must be important. Perhaps even more than the ship or the mechs themselves. His theories suggested it was a manufacturing system or a Star League database. Paired with the clear AI the Exarch employs..."
 
"Shall I rescind the order?"
 
"Modify it." Kurita declared, "Even separated by the whole Inner Sphere the Dragon will have its due. Activate the sleeper cells near the Anti-Spinward edge of the Periphery. The Exarch seems poised to carve out an empire ... and we shall feast on its fruits before the rest."
 
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===Unanswered Questions===
Aboard the Ptolemaios, (Former) Pleasure Resort compound
New Venice, Marian Hegemony Space
March 3025
A tarp covered the body. Or what was left of it. The men from Junkers hauled the corpse away just the same.
 
I knew the day would come when the spooks would start showing up. I didn't expect it so soon. I trusted the Junkers, the Junkers entrusted me. The others whom I welcomed aboard were all men vouched by other commanders in the coalition and who I had the Haros watch like a hawk.
 
Even birds could be blind.
 
The only hint something was wrong was when they detected an identified transmission from right inside the cargo hold; in the RESTRICTED part of the cargo hold. I found the mess that the spy was in after the deed was done. I blamed myself for missing him.
 
I also blamed the AGE Builder.
 
"You told me to come here." I accused the machine, "You knew this was going to happen. We didn't have to come here but you wanted us to."
 
The AGE Builder, or whatever that was toying with me didn't talk back. It turned on. The egg-shaped fabricator hummed and whirred.
 
I sighed. The powers that be loved to keep playing games. Sulla and Remus were 'bad pulls' if it can even be called that. Just piles of lostech that would have made anyone else rich enough to buy a noble title. My expectations weren't high on this one.
 
The next 'pull' required me to take the fight deeper into the Hegemony. Even more than what was already planned.
 
"Exarch."
 
I looked to see the General of the Knights of St. Cameron look back at me. Behind him stood Mashmyre as well as Biggs and Wedge. The latter three stood firm as they stared back.
 
"I would like to speak with you." General Gluck said, looking to the others, "Alone."
 
I nodded to my men and they turned back. I waved off the Haros and a dozen armed robots and a few hidden turrets slinked away.
 
"You need something, General?"
 
"Answers." he said, "I do not buy the excuse that the Junkers are THAT technologically advanced. If they did then they would not be in the predicament they had been in. And that means the source is you. That spy was here for you."
 
His gauntleted hand gestured to the AGE Builder, "THAT is Lostech if I have never seen one. This ship, the Battlemechs, your robots, the question is on everyone's tongue: who are you?"
 
"Does it matter?" I asked.
 
"To me and my men it does." he pushed, "We live every day watching the Inner Sphere slide further and further into a collapse.
 
The technology that keeps our civilization running is breaking down and cannot be repaired or replaced. I've seen practically medieval worlds in the periphery where the most advanced thing they had was a steam engine. Cameron is dead. Kerensky is gone. If it's not pirates then it's men like the snakes who keeps the spiral spinning downward.
 
...then you came along. You and everything you brought with you. How am I ... how are WE supposed to trust you?"
 
The Knights of St. Cameron, founded by the descendants of the SLDF were part of the Cult of St. Cameron and venerated the Camerons, among them Jocasta Cameron a woman of faith and arguably a saint who kept the Star League alive through hard times. They valued honor, defending the weak, the poor, and the defenseless for free; completely counterintuitive to a group labeled as a mercenary company.
 
I glanced at the AGE Builder. It stopped working. As if it expected him to show up and was waiting for my answer.
 
I cursed to myself and beneath the mask I glared at the glorified 3D printer.
 
With a sigh, I grabbed the mask and pulled it off. Stan's eyes widened and he stumbled as he kneeled before me.
 
"You can't." I say resigned, "But I think actions speak louder than words."
 
Almost immediately the AGE Builder began working again.
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Chapter 7