ICHaFBI 14

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=I, Corvus; How a Fool became Imperator of the O'Reillys - Chapter XIV -=
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----<Character & Faction Directory of I, Corvus>----
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===This my Kingdom===
Boyz Movers Ltd. Temporary Headquarters, 
Thraxa, Marian Hegemony
3032
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It was uncomfortably warm in the foreman’s office that Lucius O’Reily Jr. had picked for this little meeting. The office was equipped with a proper air ventilation system that would have brought the temperature down to more reasonable levels but Lucius preferred it this way. Getting used to comfort was a weakness for a Mech Warrior. Even with the very best cooling suits, the cockpit of a Battlemech would get dangerously hot in the thick of battle. But a mech pilot couldn’t allow discomfort to distract them. With ordnance coming in from multiple angles, battle mech running as close to the red line as possible, a brief bit of distraction could mean the end. Sweat dripping off of a pilot’s face, soaking into every pore, shouldn’t even bother them.
 
Lucius turned away from the large windows that looked out over the converted warehouse and gave his guest his full attention once more. Centurion Arieen Murena sat patiently, giving no sign that the heat was bothering her. That earned her a point where Lucius was concerned. He sat down in the chair across from her and pulled out a pack of cigarettes, lit one, and took a moment to enjoy the feeling of tar and carcinogens entering his lungs.
 
“Your bosses understand that Boyz Movers Ltd answer to one person only.” Lucius spoke, blowing smoke away from the Centurion. She nodded. “So you understand that despite your rank, you won’t be telling any of the Boyz what to do.” He continued.
 
Arieen leaned forward, clasping her hands together on the table. “I wasn’t sent here to usurp your authority. I am here to be an advisor and go between to you personally. The current operation requires a lot of moving parts to move perfectly in time with each other. I think you’d agree having someone familiar with the plan by your side would keep everything going smoothly.”
 
He regarded her thoughtfully for a moment before taking another drag on his cigarette. “Nothing in the contract said anything about having advisors. This is the sort of surprise that isn't welcome. Normally I’d charge more to host a babysitter.”
 
She shrugged eloquently but didn’t speak further. She didn’t need to. The Centurion was here to stay. Lucius stared at her while he rolled his cigarette between his fingers. Something must have happened. Things were beginning to speed up and now the Ordo Vigilis was involved. Centurion Muerna hadn’t bothered to hide her affiliation with the intelligence organization that served the Hegemony from the shadows. A lot of moving parts indeed.
 
Lucius did have to hand it to the Vigilis, they really did their homework on him. He looked her over again despite the fact that she was looking right at him. Her midnight black hair was groomed straight and sat just below her shoulders. Her face was rounded and smooth, with dark brown eyes that could entrap a man’s soul. Her body was athletically toned and nicely filled out in all the right places. It matched his taste in women perfectly and it made him wonder just how the Vigilis had come up with an agent like her for this assignment. He was also curious what they hoped to accomplish. Were they hoping he’d be more malleable to a pretty face? Was she going to try to control him through sex? So far she had been nothing but professional. No hint of a wink or a smile, no subtle insinuations, just straight business.
 
Aireen didn’t show that she noticed his not so subtle appraisal of her body “Once we arrive on the planet you will need to continue to go by your official name.”
 
Lucius shrugged. “Daryl the Hun has been in charge of the Movers for the last two decades. Guess he can stick around for a bit longer.”
 
She narrowed her eyes slightly. “Does that mean you won’t be keeping that name?”
 
He shook his head. “Daryl the Hun is my stage name when I got to scare the shit out of the natives in the deep periphery. Even the name Boyz Movers Ltd was just a blind. Protection for me and the rest of the Ninth Legion from you lot coming after us.” Lucius took one last drag on his cigarette before crushing it on the table. “Marius is dead now. I see no reason why I can’t claim my real name again.”
 
"If you’re going to start introducing yourself as a member of the O’Rielly family, you should do so quietly. Imperator Sean needs to be the O’Rielly that everyone sees returning home.” She pinned him with a piercing look.
 
Lucius once again shrugged. “You don’t have to worry about me spoiling the party. Once ole Sertorius has been put to bed and little Sean’s finished having his cock sucked off by everyone looking for his favor, then I’ll tell everyone that I’m back. I doubt the old timers will have forgotten me though.” He leaned back in his seat, memories of his time on Alphard and the people there washing over him. “It’s too bad about Sertorius, he was a great MechWarrior.”
 
Aireen’s delicately shaped eyebrows rose in surprise before quickly dropping again. Lucius wondered if that was the first real, uncalculated emotion that he had seen on her face. “You're having doubts about the mission?” She asked casually.
 
“Nope. I’m getting paid to do a job. Whatever I may think of that job makes no difference.” He shook his head for emphasis. “But it is a damn shame. All of it. Sertorius is acting stupid. Shit, both he and Marius were stupid, just in different ways.” She tilted her in an invitation to continue. He didn’t think it would make any difference for her to know his honest opinion. “Marius couldn’t decide whether he wanted to be loved or feared, so he tried to split the difference and ended up half assing it. Sertorius… Sertorius is like me. A damn fine MechWarrior and excellent at leading troops in the field. But he doesn’t have a fucking clue about how to rule. I get why he wanted to pop his brother, but taking the throne was a mistake and now we’re going to roll in there and give him the same treatment.”
 
“So you’ve never wanted to rule the Hegemony yourself?” Aireen smiled, trying to play it off as an innocent question. But he knew she was trying to suss out whether he was a threat.
 
He snorted in amusement. “Fuck no. I never want anything to do with the throne. Sean can have it and long may he reign.” Lucius rose from his seat and gestured for Aireen to do the same. He turned and moved over to the window again and spread his arms wide, encompassing the entire converted warehouse beneath them. She joined him at the window and stared out at the bustle of activity.
 
Makeshift mechanical platforms had been set up in rows and in each one stood a Battlemech. They were spread out across the vast warehouse, hundreds of them of a variety of sizes. Men and women worked on and around them, preparing them for battle. Even for an experienced commander of dozens of campaigns, it was a sight to take your breath away.
 
Centurion Aireen Muerna stared out as Lucius gestured again. “This is my kingdom, Centurion. This is where I belong.”
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===Warboys on the March===
Outskirts of Ashbourne
Algenib, Marine Hegemony
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One hundred vehicles full of Flaming Circus warboys rode across the wasteland. The plume of dust and smoke they kicked up would be visible for kilometers in every direction. No Dust Rats would be brave enough to challenge them this time. The convoy was a fraction of the Circus’ strength, but larger than many tribes. Word had spread already of Metellus’ victory, and even the larger tribes would be too timid to challenge the man who killed Mons.
 
The seven or eight hundred warriors packed into those vehicles was also far, far smaller than Maximus Phallus’ tribe. It was large enough that Phallus should see it as a fitting tribute while the new chief swore fealty, but small enough that he shouldn’t see it as a threat.
 
Maximus shouldn’t be on his guard then, as who announces the coming of a war party when they have ill intent? They should be able to draw their weapons, free Livia, kill Maximus and th usurper, and run before the city even knew there was a problem. Sean was still too drunk on optimism and self-confidence of youth to notice how many ‘shoulds’ were present in Metellus’ plan. Metellus had seemed so certain.
 
This time, Sean rode on the turret of Dokkaebi, crewing the forward gun. The dust and air whipped across his bare chest as they rode. He’d taken pride in his new place in the tribe. Even as the newest warrior, his closeness with Metellus gave him clout among the young warriors. Like many of them, he’d blackened his skin with soot and covered his face, hands, and brand with ochre and red desert flowers.
 
They crowded around him in hopes that proximity would give them influence too. They competed for his attention, fought for a place in his battlewagon, fought to be his woman. He’d seen how the senators, legates, bureaucrats and more groveled and jockeyed for his father’s attention. But he’d never felt it until now. Sure, the other boys and girls fostered in the palace had wanted his attention, but they were children, forming cliques as children did. These were real men and women, playing the real games of power. Games with consequences.
 
He wondered if his father felt the same way. Did he enjoy the power as Sean did? Did he use it for his own gratification?
 
The night before they left, Sean had encouraged his growing clique to kill a rival, and they did. He hadn’t even ordered it, just suggested the man was an annoyance, and the eager youths took care of the rest.
 
He felt the same exhilaration as Ashbourne came into view. Soon, Sertorius would be dead, or he would. He might already be dead and not know it. Wrench was part of the advance team that arrived a week ago to inform Maximus of the change in leadership. They were still there, enjoying his hospitality, unless they weren’t. Wrench should have managed to work her way into the good graces of the spaceport techs.
His heart fluttered as he saw the Imperator’s personal Intruder class dropship towering above the adobe structures of Ashbourne. He was here, already! The plan had to happen now. Either the bombs were already planted, or they were all dead. He clutched onto the handles of his gun hard to keep himself steady as he waited for a long, painful hour as they cruised up to the Ashbourne border.
 
He joined Metellus who handed him one of two tiny communications devices that they fastened to their ears. “Wrench, you safe to talk?” Metellus said, with a calmness Sean hoped he could match.
 
They waited for what seemed an eternity before Wrench chimed in. “Yup.”
 
“How’d it go?”
 
“All five charges placed. I am hunkered down in a tech’s quarters until go time. Got my big red button all ready.”
 
“Any chance the tech will be back? It could be a while before he launches.”
 
“From the dead? Nah, I think we’re good.”
 
Sean chimed in. “You’re incredible, Wrench. Can’t wait for you to meet my sister.”
 
“No talk unless you need to kid, walls have ears. Pick me up some sausages on the way.”
 
Four hundred warboys marched through the streets of Ashbourne. The rest stayed with the convoy to keep the vehicles ready for their escape.
 
Sean did his best to stay calm, but Gnasher kept having to pull him back whenever he went too far ahead of the group. He was practically vibrating when the gang arrived at Maximus’ palace. Only twenty picked warriors would be allowed in from here. Sean was sure it would be enough, until he entered the court and remembered just how many warriors it could hold. Row upon row of Burning Chrome warboys. This time, joined by dignitaries from the largest tribes in the wasteland.
 
Maximus stood in front of his throne, a literal mountain of muscled flesh. To his right, was the same wasteland princess he’d seen before, but to his left….no one. Livia’s chair was empty.
 
“What the fuck?” Sean whispered to Metellus.
 
Metellus waved him back. “Shit happens. Let me handle it.”
 
Metellus stepped forward and bowed to Maximus. Sean waited, and watched, and waited, as the two warlords went through the intricate rituals of Algenibi rulership. A wiser man could have learned a lot from watching the two manoeuvre, and perhaps Sean might have as well had he not been preoccupied. The excitement, the stress, the fear, it all wore down his mind.
 
Then, he heard the sound of dropship engines sparking. It was too much. He snapped. He pulled pieces out of the various pockets on his belt and pants and snapped them into place. They formed a gun which he aimed at Maximus’ head. “Enough!” He screamed. “Where is my sister? Where is the usurper?”
 
The room went silent, then Maximus laughed. “I take it you are Sean. Your uncle has come and gone.” He pointed to the Intruder. “If you want your sister, there she is.”
 
The warriors of Burning Chrome weren’t allowed weapons, but they numbered in the hundreds. They began to close in on the circus.
 
Maximus laughed louder and then slammed a fist against the arm of his throne, snapping into pieces. “Chrome! Stand down! Do you not know this is the heir to the Imperial throne? We may forgive his trespass today, as he will no doubt forgive our trespasses when he reigns. Am I not correct, Lord O’Reilly?”
 
“Yeah, sure, whatever you want. What’s the usurper doing? Where the fuck is he taking my sister?”
 
“When we could not produce you, he was furious. But I made a promise to your sister not to reveal your secret and I did not. He presumed you did, and so he is taking her to Alphard.”
 
Sean didn’t wait. He ran. He ran through the palace and through the streets, slamming into people and smashing rickety market stands. Gnasher was right beside him, but the rest were back somewhere.
 
“What the fuck are you doing?” Metellus screamed in his ear.
 
“He’s going to kill her! Or worse! My uncle, my other uncle, he used to tell me about kings and emperors and shit who married the children of dead kings. I’m not gonna let him hurt my sister. He has to go down now!”
 
“I got you Lil’ Gator, got my big red button right here to end him. You good to go?”
 
“No! She’s in the dropship! We can’t blow it!”
 
“Well, fuck, that’s pretty much the only play we have Gator!”
 
Flames shot from the Intruder’s engines.
 
“Do something! Anything! Now! Please! Anyone!” Tears streamed down Sean’s face as he ran in impotent fury towards the dropship. Deep down, he knew he’d never make it, but he tried anyways. He could hear Metellus yelling at the rest of the Circus to rally on the dropship. Too little, too late again.”
 
“Wrench! Please! Can you blow just one of the engines?”
 
The pause she gave nearly ripped Sean’s heart in half.
 
“Maybe.”
 
He kept running. The dropship began to lift off of the ground. Ten meters, a hundred, five hundred. He watched his future slip away. “Wrench! Please!”
 
The dropship shuddered as an explosion ripped a gaping hole in its side. The other engines sputtered, and died. The pilots tried to put it down safely, but it slammed into the earth just beyond the city limits. The crash was deafening, but the thing was well built and looked to have at least held its shape. He looked around at Gnasher and the handful of Circus warriors that had kept up. Then an idea came to him. “Flaming Circus! I invoke the law of salvage! The Imperator can no longer fly his vehicle, and it is forfeit to the first who claims it! Be the first, for the Flaming Circus and your true Imperator!” The warboys, his warboys, have a wild cry and charged towards the dropship. He could hear Metellus through the comms organizing the rest to the boys. At least one of them back at the convoy must have a comm too and would already be descending on the battered vessel.
 
The wreck had been worse that expected. It had landed on its side and the port section was completely flattened against the earth. By the time he got there, the few Praetorian Guards who’d managed to struggle out of the wreck were dead.. The last circle of them had fallen around two figures stained with red.
 
What he saw made no sense. Sertorius, mangled by the crash, with his purple and white toga covered in his own blood. Livia held his corpse on her lap. She was crying hysterically. She looked up as Sean approached her.
 
“Sean?!” She screamed between sobs. “What the fuck did you do!”
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===Laying Trap in the Dark===
Nadir Point, Uncharted System - Periphery
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“One minute until jump.” The automated voice chimed through the dropship. Ambrose surveyed the waiting marines. Four Ordo Vigilis kill teams sat on the benches in front of him. Four contuberniums was the smallest a Marian Century could operate and still be considered an effective fighting force. If all went well, they wouldn’t have to fight. If it did not, then two full centuries of a hundred elite Praetorians awaited them. Ambrose was not afraid.
 
The Praetorian Guard believed themselves to be the best warriors in the Hegemony. They might be the best drilled soldiers, but none could match the sort of experience that even the youngest Ordo Vigilis agents had.
 
Or so he told himself. He had to. Not a single one of his people was over the age of twenty-four, while their opposition were seasoned warriors with decades of experience under their belts. But much of that experience was years, or decades past.
 
“Thirty seconds until jump.” The disembodied voice chimed again.
 
While his men wore helmets, he wore a high-quality headset patched into the dropship’s comm system, which was in turn patched into the jumpship’s. There was hope, a slim hope, that he wouldn’t need to put the helmet on.
 
“Ten seconds until jump.” The voice chimed.
 
If their information was correct, the usurper’s Jumpship would be at the zenith point of Algenib. If it wasn’t, then the people who gave the information had already doomed them.
 
The world around him….shifted. Then the nausea struck. It would pass soon. No Vigilis recruit passed the induction tests who couldn’t handle jump sickness.
 
The sensor operator of his Leopard had equal fortitude and gave his report almost the instant they arrived in Algenib. “Star Lord Jumpship at zenith, confirmed as the Hadrianus. Aurora dropship two days outbound from Star Lord with two Aquarius escort craft. Invader Assault dropship not found...got it. Invader on planet, damaged.”
 
It was better than perfect. He could figure out why later. Time for action. “Hadrianus, I am Centurion McAndrews of the Ordo Vigilis courier ship Vexillatio. I have important information about an attempt on the Imperator’s life. I need a direct line to the Praetorian Commander immediately.”
 
An older man’s voice came through the comms. <<“You need her, you’ve got to call the dropship. You’re a little late, McAndrews. The Imperator’s dropship was taken down by the savages. Don’t know why, don’t know how. But the Legate’s running a rescue op as we speak. Should I patch you through?”>>
 
“No. Let me dock and explain things to you in person.”
 
<<“Very well. Permission granted.”>>
 
He gave a nod and the command carried up to the cockpit. The Leopard slipped away from its jumpship and made the short trek over to the Hadrianus. He took only a pair of his men with him to keep up appearances, and transferred a handful more over faking jump sickness, just in case. He was escorted directly to the bridge where he exchanged salutes with the captain.
 
“What can you tell me about the situation, Captain?”
 
“Ten days ago the Imperator took the Imperio Primus for the planet surface to retrieve his niece and nephew. Three days ago, he landed and secured his niece. Two days ago, the Primus told us they were returning. Something happened to shoot them down. We lost contact with the Primus and the governor, a local warlord, stopped responding to our communications. We have no information on the status of the Imperator or his niece. Legate Zhou assumed the governor was holding them hostage for reasons unknown. Zhou left immediately with the full Praetorian complement for rescue. Now, what can you tell me Centurion?”
 
“I can confirm your suspicions, captain. Seditious forces allied to the rebels on Jubka have infiltrated Algenib and turned the warlord against the Imperator. We have a regiment of Battlemechs and a battalion of battle armour en route from Alphard. They’re a week behind us. Patch me through to the Legate, now, we need to call her back.”
 
The captain barked orders to his subordinates and soon, the grizzled face of a veteran Legate appeared on the viewscreen. ((“Zhou here. Do we have news from the surface?”))
 
The captain gestured to Kelly.
 
“Legate Zhou, I am Centurion McAndrews, Ordo Vigilis under orders from Consul-Prefect Gibson. We received warning of a coup attempt and made best speed here. The Legio Capitoline is en route from the capital and will arrive in one week-”
 
((“That timeline doesn’t make sense. A jumpship from Islington or Horatius would have gotten here before we did.”))
 
“I’m stationed at Suetonius. The Horatius and Islington Vigilis stations are under suspicion due to intel from the Jubka raid. We were the closest reliable force, due to the Circinus situation.”
 
((“So what does the good Prefect say?”))
 
“Stand down, return to the Hadrianus. The strongest rescue attempt we can muster now, two and a half centuries, a maniple of mechs, another of light vehicles, it’s too risky. You’re ordered to wait until reinforcements and a negotiating team arrive.
 
Zhou stared into her screen, eyes narrowed.
 
Ambrose stared back. He had no idea what he would do if this failed. His Leopard was no match for an Aurora, let alone the small craft escorting it and the fighters it carried. He projected the sort of confidence unique to twenty-year old boys and hoped.
 
It worked. ((“Acknowledged. Standing down and returning.”))
 
Ambrose nodded. “When you arrive, have your people report to cargo bay three. I’ll explain Gibson’s plan to everyone then.”
 
The screen went dead and Ambrose gave the captain more information. It was an excuse to buy time. As he talked, he scanned the room, looking for familiar faces. He locked eyes with the third officer who gave a knowing nod.
 
Perfect.
 
He dismissed himself to check in on his people at sickbay, to let them know they weren’t needed. Yet. Shift change was in an hour. He waited, and as expected, the third officer came in a few minutes later than that.
 
“I’ve dismissed the doctor on duty. It’s just me and your men, Kelly. Now, what’s really going on, please.” the woman said. It had been six years since Sean had invited Ambrose to see Suetonius for his 10th birthday vacation. Over the course of the week he’d been aboard the Hadrianus, Ambrose had gotten into enough mischief that everyone on the ship had learned his face and name. While much of the crew had rotated out by now, he’d gambled on a few loyal crew being the same. Once again, the gamble paid off.
 
“How many on this ship are loyal to Marius and his children, Principes Leslie?”
 
“I am. Our doctor. The entire engineering section. The 2nd watch communications officer. All three sensor techs. That’s all I can be sure of.”
 
“None of the Aquarius pilots?”
 
“No, not that I know them well, to be fair.”, doctor told him.
 
“Damn, they would have been useful as a backup.” Ambrose clicked open the hidden computer screen on his prosthetic arm. “Show the bunks of everyone who is loyal, and everyone who is not. Don’t worry about compromising the operational ability of the Hadrianus, we have spares on our Jumpship.”
 
Leslie nodded and began to tap away. An hour later, the ‘sick’ Vigilis team rose. Everyone whose loyalty she wasn’t completely sure of was dealt with. Then, the trap was laid.
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The Aurora dropship slipped into place at collar number three. Immediately, the Praetorians began to filter into cargo bay three adjacent to it. Ambrose stood by the door, watching and counting as they filed in. His people were standing, idly near the back where cargo sat secured with heavy tie down straps. They gossiped to each other, but it was all part of the act. They observed the Praetorians as they entered, marking the ones who were too alert, or might be too much of a danger.
Zhou had been the first to come in, but had said nothing yet. She observed Ambrose and the Vigilis troops as they went. Around the time he counted 150, He saw something in her eyes change. She opened her mouth to shout something at her people
 
Ambrose was quicker. “Fix,” he yelled and his men pulled hooks from their belts and snapped them to the straps. Zhou yelled for her people to run back to their dropship. It was too late. The airlock to the cargo bay snapped shut. The safeties overridden, two Praetorians were crushed as the heavy doors closed. Zhou reached for her sidearm, but Ambrose was quicker. Zhou fell. Her confused soldiers snapped into action and a handful rushed him. He grabbed his own hook and snapped it against a handrail. “Now,” he screamed, and the cargo bay doors opened. A company and a half of the Hegemony’s finest warriors tumbled out into oblivion. He pressed a button hidden on his uniform and an emergency mask deployed around his head.
 
Moments later when the bay doors closed, the room began to repressurize, and he took a moment to take stock. Not a single Praetorian remained. Two of his people were missing. Fifty, maybe sixty Praetorians remained, plus a crew of fourteen and a handful of techs. Against thirty eight Vigilis, Ambrose liked his odds.
 
They’d need to act fast, before the dropship could decouple or the crew could arm themselves. Within seconds special breaching charges were placed on the doors, sending shrapnel throughout the halls. His people charged down, lasers blazing. The Praetorians stopped them fast in the lower bay.
 
But Ambrose’ team was just a distraction. A single maniple of Battle Armor had begun to crawl their way up the outside of the dropship as soon as it landed. They were the real threat. The sealed armour cut their way through the bridge and pulled the suffocating crew into the ether. Bridge secured, they slammed every security door shut and pumped the air into space of any compartment with a Praetorian. In ten minutes, the whole thing was over.
 
Now came the most difficult part of the all: convincing whatever mad warlord had Sean, Livia, and the usurper to give them up.
 
Ambrose’s luck was with him once again, for the Imperio Primus lifted off from Algenib a week later, with a thousand bloodthirsty natives aboard, led by their new Imperator, eager for plunder.
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ICHaFBI 14