OPREF-2 Chpt 3

=Book 2, Chapter 3 - House of Cards=
==Opalescent Reflections==
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===Sacrifices made in the name of Survival===
Republic City, Satalice
Skandia Province, Free Rasalhague Republic
28 October 3050
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Tyra Miraborg slumped back, helmet pressing against the headrest of her ejection seat, as the fusion turbine of her Shilone began to spool down. Ignoring the crew outside who were chocking the wheels of the landing gear and carrying out other post-flight tasks, the young pilot tried to mentally review the training flight and the performance of her squadron.
 
Valkyrie Squadron wasn't what it had been before Rasalhague, but nor were the Flying Drakons. Even after folding in the survivors of every Kungsarme squadron they came across, little more than thirteen squadrons were on the roster, compared to the original eighteen. And they were far less picky about performance.
 
On the other hand, there was a burning edge to their fighting now that Tyra had never known before. A drive that her previous peacetime experience had lacked. Every pilot drove their fighters as hard as they could, knowing that the enemy they were flying against would have faster and more heavily armed airframes to work with. Twelve months ago, a training regime like this would have had pilots protesting and beancounters bitching. Now they just went to it.
 
And during her waking hours, Tyra could believe that it made a difference.
 
Ferleiten. Engadin. Stanzach and that horrendous furball over Memmingen. She'd thought she might see Gunzburg again after that, but instead the Flying Drakons had gone to Thannhausen to cover for the evacuation of troops there…
 
More than a hundred and thirty light years of retreat had brought them this far, only to be held back from fighting as a fifth wave of attacks rolled over the Free Rasalhague Republic. Clan Smoke Jaguar were bearing down on Radstadt, and Tyra yearned to be there and avenge Reykjavik. Clan Wolf were even closer, and while that would have been less personal…
 
A knock on the cockpit broke her out of thoughts that had, she realized, never really touched on her pilots. Looking up, Tyra saw the crew chief looking at her in concern. She undogged the canopy and checked that external power was active before hitting the switch that opened the cockpit up. "Sorry, chief. I was lost in thought."
 
Edgars nodded. "The General wants to see you at the command post, Kapten. Any gripes we need to worry about?"
 
"No." Tyra levered herself upright and accepted his help in getting up and onto the folding ladder he'd used to reach her. "You've worked wonders. That stickiness on the left wing's outer flap is gone."
 
"Ah, glad we ironed that out." Edgars backed down the ladder ahead of her. "We'll take care of the post flight. Can't keep the General waiting."
He's been keeping us waiting, Tyra thought. But she didn't say it outloud, just unbuckling her helmet and setting it down on the steps. "Thanks, Chief."
 
She hitched a ride on one of the technicians' wagons over to the airbase's headquarters buildings and stretched her legs jogging the rest of the way. Wearing flight gear in the admin section was a minor no-no, under the same regulations that kept mechwarriors from flashing their bare biceps and thighs at innocent staff personnel, but when a general wanted your attention then you didn't waste time getting changed. And this wasn't a general. Edgars had said it was the General, which meant only one person.
 
Immediately Tyra identified herself at the reception desk, a grizzled sergeant escorted her to an elevator and then to one of the offices. The fact that he made no mention of her flight suit confirmed that this was one of those situations where regulations can go hang.
 
The sergeant knocked on one door. "Kapten Miraborg for you, General."
 
"Send her in."
 
The door was opened for Tyra and then the sergeant closed it behind her. She saluted crisply, they way you do when faced by the head of your state. Even if they're one of your father's closest friends. Especially when they're one of your father's closest friends.
 
General Christian Mansdottir looked as if he'd aged ten years since they left Rasalhague. He rose from behind a desk piled high with work and returned her salute before gesturing towards the seat facing him. "Tyra… how is your squadron doing?"
 
"We're working up, Sir. When the Wolves get here -" The paths of advance were clear by now and it would be a shock if anyone but Clan Wolf arrived. "- we'll be ready. If you want to send us forward again then we'll be ready for that too."
 
"I don't doubt that. And…" He paused, shrugged off his jacket. "Speaking as your Uncle Christian, how are you doing?"
 
"I'm…" She almost said fit for duty, but that wasn't what he'd asked. "I'm coping. Don't worry about me."
 
"From your father's last letter, he does. And given what you've been through, I think someone should."
 
Tyra shook her head. "There are a lot of people in a worse position. I'm…" Then she frowned. "Father is writing to you about me?"
 
"Since a long time before you left Gunzburg." And stopped replying to his messages, the general didn't add. "His last message to me said that if you were still there, he would have tried sending you away. And you'd have argued and he'd have lost."
 
Tyra looked away. She'd departed over his treatment of Phelan Kell. The way the 'Iron Jarl' and his followers vented their hatred on a mercenary who had nothing to do with those who had abandoned her father on the battlefield during the Ronin War had cemented the changes in her father.
 
Mansdottir sighed, more in sorrow than in disappointment. "You're not wrong in what you saw in him and I'm not going to try to justify it. Whatever you said to him before you left didn't get brushed off. He has been thinking about what you said. It won't get him out of his wheelchair, but it might have given him a good hard look at what was being done in his name."
 
She raised her chin. "So he asked you to speak to me?"
 
"No." Her uncle in all but blood shook his head slightly. "You're as stubborn as he is. We both know that wouldn't do anything. And I know that this wouldn't be tearing the two of you up so much if you didn't love each other so fiercely. It's how you Miraborgs are, why it's such a privilege to know you." Then he rested his hands on the table. "And it's why I wanted you to hear this from me."
 
Tyra's guts churned. "The Wolves hit Gunzburg, didn't they?"
 
"In a manner of speaking, yes."
 
"What do you mean? Either they're invading or they're not." She paused. "At least it's not the… not Smoke Jaguars." Uncle or not, cursing in front of the general was not done.
 
"A Clan Wolf JumpShip reached Gunzburg three days ago," Mansdottir told her quietly. "They requested safe passage to land a shuttle and send an emissary to address your father personally."
 
That didn't sound like the Clans. A demand to know what was going to resist them was normal. "And?"
 
"Reports conflict on what happened next. Even ComStar doesn't claim to know exactly, but an understanding seems to have been reached."
 
"That's impossible!" She shook her head. "Father wouldn't do that! He would rather die than surrender Gunzburg!"
 
The general shrugged. "I would have said the same. But I doubt any single emissary could have overpowered and coerced him in his own headquarters, much less in public. He's been making all his scheduled public appearances... just with a man in a Wolf mask at his side. Reportedly they are 'in talks about Gunzburg's future'."
 
Tyra envisaged her homeworld - her hometown - her family home. All under the banner of Clan Wolf. "This can't be happening. What about the Gunzburg Eagles? What are they doing?"
 
"Maintaining readiness," Mansdottir told her. "They haven't stood down or surrendered... but they're not fighting back either. There's nothing to fight against. And the longer this goes on, the more your father will be associated with accepting Clan Wolf's presence… and with that, their authority. But I thought it best to tell you now, before anyone else did. Because, as you can imagine, the rumor mill will take every scrap of information and embroider it with imagination. Some of those rumors are likely to be ugly."
 
"You mean they'll call my father a traitor."
 
"Almost certainly." Mansdottir's eyes were sympathetic. "I don't believe that for a minute, Tyra. But not everyone knows Tor Miraborg the way you or I do."
 
"And I'm his daughter." Her eyes were prickling with unshed tears. She sniffed back a sob. "I don't suppose you're also going to send the Drakons to find out the truth. To send that Wolf emissary away and defend Gunzburg properly?"
 
"I wish I could. But we both know how that would go. I have enough regiments that I could try something like Twycross - but if I tried that and we lost all of them, I'd be gutting everything that's left of the Kungsarme."
 
"How many more worlds are we going to write off?!" Tyra demanded, the words escaping before she could stop them. "I'm sorry," she added. "But…"
 
"You're not the first to ask," he waved it off. "Shipments are on their way - refit kits that should close the gap between our equipment and theirs. The hope is that it reaches Satalice and other worlds in the current defensive line before the Clans do, soon enough that we can put up a real fight - and do so with units that aren't just scraped together from survivors but have had a chance to learn to work together. The Federated Commonwealth is planning something similar, and unlike us they have reserves to throw in."
 
She looked at the flag in the corner. "Then we'd better stop them here, because there's not much of the Republic behind us." She intended it as a joke, but it didn't come out that way.
 
"If we cannot hold them here, then we will fall back, prepare again and fight them again," he promised. "Rasalhague has been ruled by outsiders before. We won our liberation before and we can do so again. It may take some patience."
 
"Some patience and some outside support," Tyra amended that. "Father told me that we couldn't have won the Ronin War if Katrina Steiner and Theodore Kurita weren't each arming us against the other. If we've no worlds left, do you think they'll support us?"
 
"I led Tyr as essentially a mercenary regiment during the Fourth Succession War," Mansdottir said stoutly. "As long as we can field troops, I think they'll see the logic in financing us. And ComStar has been very accommodating in letting me funnel government funds away. We'll have a paychest, if it comes to that."
 
"I'd feel more confident in ComStar's support if they'd appointed another Precentor Advocate for us," the pilot replied. "Since Gwyn Thorne died, they haven't appointed someone to represent them to the Republic. I get the impression they're not sure there's going to be a need."
 
Mansdottir looked down at his desk, then back up at her. "I've been talking with Primus Wei about contingencies if we have to operate as a government-in-exile - I'll raise that to her. You're right, there is a morale issue. I don't imagine it would cost her much to appoint someone provisionally."
 
"It's got to be cheaper than taking a stand. If the ComGuards garrisons were fighting, we'd have twice the forces facing the Clans. And they have lostech."
 
"We were neutral between House Kurita and House Steiner-Davion for fifteen years, because it was the only way to survive," the general pointed out. "ComStar has survived the same way for almost three centuries. Frankly, I'm glad of the help we've gotten out of them already. Wei Rong didn't have to give us advance warning of the Clans - and any time I get more from ComStar than I paid for, I count myself lucky."
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===The Dragon considers it Options===
Imperial City, Luthien
Pesht District, Draconis Combine
10 November 3050
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There were six place settings at the hexagonal table. The five people dining all took a moment to look at the empty place while the servants set out the food between them.
 
"You can go," Minoru's grandfather dismissed the servants as they moved back to stand at the ready to assist those kneeling around the table. Without batting an eyelid the entourage filed out of the dining room.
 
The youngest Kurita's mother looked away from the empty seat and began serving out the rice to everyone - one of the most trusted officers of the DCMS acting like any other housewife. The rest of the family began serving themselves from the platters in the middle of the table, Theodore filling his wife's plate, leaning on long familiarity with her tastes.
 
"A long trip to New Samarkand, grandson." Takashi Kurita mused as Minoru poured tea for the Coordinator. "It seems only yesterday you were sent there as a cadet and now you will be an instructor."
 
Minoru hid a sigh. They all knew that it was an excuse to get the second-in-line to the throne off Luthien before it came under attack - there had been dozens of officers on Terra, taking notes from the Wolf's Dragoons about the Clans. A Chu-i who had never seen action wasn't a good fit for teaching cadets only a year or two his junior. But complaining would change nothing. "Yes. I am sure I will need to explain once a week that someone's brilliant idea to slow the Clans by headhunting their bloodnamed nobility will not work."
 
"It would be terribly convenient if they really did halt operations to engage in tournaments over the succession," Theodore agreed. "Alas, even the death of a Khan has not slowed the Diamond Sharks down significantly and the Smoke Jaguars were the same."
 
"I didn't think the Smoke Jaguar Khan was killed." Omi observed precisely. Minoru's sister was the last served with rice and she bowed her head slightly to their mother.
 
"Deposed or dead, either way they needed to choose a successor and it seems to have been a relatively painless process for them." their father said.
 
"Seems," Takashi mused. "But they would not advertise their internal politics. It may have been more problematic than we are aware. In any case," he continued, "We cannot boast of killing either of them. Both brought down by their own people for failures. The one I would have sent to the garden, but the second… Pesht is a severe loss to us."
 
Theodore said nothing, but his gaze drifted to the empty side of the table. After a moment, Tomoe reached over and touched her husband's hand. He looked up. "We know something more of that now."
 
"Oh?"
 
"The Diamond Shark who killed their Khan was the same who served as Hohiro's second."
 
"Ace Enders," someone said, almost a hiss. A chill went down Minoru's spine as he realized it was his sister.
 
Takashi's eyes were distant. "Not their new Khan. Was he removed for his temerity?"
 
Theodore shook his head. "He appears to have support of their new leader. He elevated her, after all."
 
"Then he will be coming here," Tomoe observed in a resigned tone. "I suppose he will be easy to recognize."
 
Takashi nodded. "Yes. The hubris of commanding a heavy-assault unit from a lighter 'mech. I would call him a fool but he appears to be successful."
 
"Not the first time you've said that about a young leader." Theodore observed.
 
Everyone other than the two most powerful men in the Draconis Combine fell silent as they exchanged weighted looks.
 
"I appointed you command of my soldiers," Takashi Kurita reminded his son. "I had doubts, but for the most part you have shown them to be misplaced."
 
Minoru's father nodded. "I appreciate that you have refrained from criticizing my decisions in public."
 
"Open disagreement would only serve our enemies," the Coordinator replied acidly. "I would prefer that you brought the Sword of Light together, since the heart of the Combine is at risk, but I can find no fault with the units that are here or on their way."
 
"The Fifth would be worthless," Theodore told his father. "Federated Commonwealth raiders - and the Northwind Highlanders, who don't even appear to have been paid for striking at them - have kept them at no more than a battalion since 3040. If we were not at war I might have brought them here to rebuild, but right now a shipment of refit kits is better use of the dropship collars."
 
"And are you similarly scathing of the Eighth?" asked Takashi stiffly.
 
That got a shake of Theodore's head. "A good unit. Perhap not the best, but trustworthy. I am holding them back, because if the worst happens, if we face a complete disaster here on Luthien then they will be able to keep the Sword of Light alive. Able to serve as the seeds for rebuilding the brigade." Then he spread his hands. "And to be honest, your Dragon Claws are a fine regiment. If they had a fourth battalion I would call them the equal of the Eighth."
 
Minoru had personally been very surprised to learn that his grandfather had been directing equipment and training funds to the Luthien planetary militia, staffing them with some of his old comrades from the Third Succession War. The 'Dragons Claws' regiment concentrated about half the battlemechs of the militia into a single force which had an average age not far short of sixty for its mechwarriors, but they performed as well as soldiers half their age.
 
Whether it had been a surprise for Minoru's father was a question he pondered occasionally. It was almost certain that the Coordinator had been organizing them as a counter to any coup being launched against him by his own son. But at the same time, there was no question that Takashi Kurita was entirely within his rights to contribute to the militia. Setting aside the fact that he was the Coordinator, he was also Duke of Luthien and it could reasonably be argued that seeing to the planetary militia was his duty. That being the case, letting Takashi believe that he was sneaking it past Theodore would have been a valid strategy.
 
Theodore's public reaction to the Dragons Claws parading through the Imperial City was delight that the capital's militia was so ready to fulfill their duty to defend Luthien, which could have meant anything. It wasn't as if he'd complain about their strength under the circumstances.
 
"Have you considered further on the matter of special weapons?" the Coordinator enquired after they had eaten more, falling into a more communal silence.
 
Minoru's father nodded. "I have no intention of using our chemical and biological stockpiles. There is good reason we don't even store them here."
 
"We are of one mind there. If the worst happens then denying assets such as the factories to the enemy is one thing," Takashi agreed. "Weapons that could render Luthien barren forever are another."
 
"There is no honor in using such weapons." Minoru's mother said quietly.
 
Takashi glanced at her. "I would not say there is no circumstance when they might not be called for." he said judiciously, perhaps thinking back to instances where they had been used. Not so very long ago really, even if they were exceptions and not the rule. "But never as a first resort, and here not even at the last. Poisoning the heart of our own realm would be reckless."
 
"If Luthien falls to the Diamond Sharks then it can be retaken," Theodore observed. "But if we turn on our own people… it would take relatively little use of such weapons to reduce food production below that which is needed to support the population. Luthien was not chosen as our capital because of its robust ecosystem."
 
Minoru's grandfather grunted. "Quite. But the use of nuclear weapons may be an option."
 
"We have few other counters to the enemy's warships," Theodore agreed. "Your thoughts, Minoru?"
 
Put on the spot, the young man swallowed the rice in his mouth. "Clan Ghost Bear's offer of a treaty barring each other's use of special weapons, including orbital bombardment suggests that they consider the threat real. From what I have learned of the Clans, most feel similarly. The threat of their use many be more valuable as leverage than their actual tactical effect."
 
Both older men nodded sagely. "The Rasalhaguans failed to destroy the Smoke Jaguar's warship even with nuclear weapons." Theodore added. "Granted, we would know to use a larger number, but since the Clans seem willing to negotiate the circumstances of battle and actually hold to such agreements, it is worthwhile to consider what concessions might be wrung from them."
 
Takashi set down his chopsticks. "If it seems likely that Luthien would fall, I would be tempted to order the use of bombardment. The Diamond Sharks must be gathering much of their forces here, a decisive strike could leave them without the strength to continue the invasion."
 
"Possibly." Theodore conceded. "Unfortunately, there are other Clans who might step in. And before you say that they should be treated the same way, there would also be the use of their warships to bombard us. If they simply eradicate every sign of the DCMS from orbit without landing, they wouldn't have conquered us, but they would leave us open to anyone else who desired to."
 
"And the Fox has always desired our worlds," Takashi agreed soberly. "So long as we can keep the Clans from reaching his own worlds, he can focus on defending his wife's domain. But if we cannot do that then he would have no further use for our current truce." The Coordinator shook his head grimly and then looked at Omi. "You should go with your brother."
 
She picked up a pear from the bowl of fruit and did not meet her grandfather's gaze. "I am training to be Keeper of the House's Honor. My departure would advertise uncertainty, which we cannot afford."
 
The white-haired man shook his head and looked at Theodore. "When I wished that you would have children who could match your disobedience, I did not know what grief I was wishing on myself."
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===The Journey of becoming a Warrior===
CWS Dire Wolf, Nadir Jump Point
Thun, Clan Wolf Occupation Zone
15 November 3050
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Ulric was drafting orders to send more munitions from the homeworlds when his comm pinged, alerting him to the return of his bondsman. Clan Wolf's situation when it came to supplies wasn't as bad as in some other Clans but it still wasn't good. Food and other basic materials could be obtained locally, with some care - even armor plating for some 'mechs but the more advanced materials that were used on most Omnimechs were another matter.
 
At some point in their history, the Clans had switched their preferred autocannon rounds to a type no longer in use in the Inner Sphere, perhaps one that had never been used. And then there were the different missile sensor and tracking heads… It would be impossible to obtain them locally, something that would have to be dealt with eventually. Ulric envied the Diamond Sharks who had apparently concluded that they could spare enough JumpShips to maintain something close to a command circuit between the Pentagon worlds and their forward supply base - a barely habitable world within a couple of jumps of the Inner Sphere.
 
Since Clan Wolf's JumpShip fleet couldn't spare that many hulls, Ulric was forced to look ahead six months and try to order shipments of what was likely to be needed in that future. It was a constantly frustrating exercise and he was glad to put it aside with a quick note to himself to issue orders to limit munitions expenditure.
 
The door of the compartment opened and Phelan walked in, wearing a gray jumpsuit badged with the Clan emblem on both sleeves, and an enclosing wolfshead helmet. The youth was moving a little stiffly, until he peeled off the helmet Ulric was beginning to wonder if this was really his bondsman.
 
"Founder!" the khan exclaimed as he saw bruising around Phelan's right eye. "What happened to you?"
 
Phelan reached up and touched the bruise, flinching his finger found it. "I got punched in the face, the mask isn't really all that protective."
 
Ulric grimaced. It looked as if the impact had driven the framework back into Phelan's face. "I trust that you dealt more damage than you received."
 
That got a grin. "Your trust would be well placed, my Khan," the former-mercenary boasted. "In this and…" He hesitated, bravado slipping away. "And in my mission." He produced an envelope and placed it on the desk.
 
"Is your injury related?"
 
Phelan shrugged. "The Iron Jarl's aide objected to my presence. I remember him from my previous visit and this time he did not have five confederates to soften me up for him."
 
"I think he might have needed more than five this time," mused Ulric, a little praise never going to waste. "And Miraborg's reaction to this incident."
 
"I believe it was the deciding moment for him," Phelan said slowly. "He knew the situation could not continue - Gunzburg is increasingly isolated, and any injury to an emissary would justify an invasion that he could not defeat. And perhaps by sparing Kuusik, I showed him that Clan Wolf would similarly spare his people. He is a patriot, after all."
 
The Khan nodded. A trial, in effect. Or at least, he could sell it to the Clan Council as such - a trial of possession between unaugmented warriors. "And the terms?" He took up the envelope.
 
"Not unconditional," admitted Phelan. "Clan Wolf will recognize him as the head of the civilians of Gunzberg and leave all their matters to his government."
 
"Acceptable." It would spare an administrative staff to govern another world.
 
"Soldiers who don't wish to remain on Gunzburg will be free to depart to rejoin the Republic… if they want to fight then they do so on other worlds."
 
Ulric frowned. "How will they travel?"
 
"The Jarl suggests bonded cargo on ComStar merchantmen," Phelan explained. "They would take their equipment and probably some supplies, but ComStar would see they don't use it until they're handed off to the FRR."
 
"Hmm." That wasn't as good. Ulric stroked his beard. "How many do you think would go?"
 
"What's left of the Third Drakons, I would think. Perhaps as much as half of the Gunzburg Eagles… although I doubt it. Some of the other militia forces, but most won't want to leave their homes."
 
"I see. So the Kungsarme will lose perhaps half a regiment of battlemechs, besides the militia units." The Khan nodded. "And those who do not leave?"
 
Phelan swallowed. "For the security of Gunzburg, until a garrison cluster can be provided, the armed forces will remain under arms, but under the command of an officer of Clan Wolf."
 
Ulric raised an eyebrow, hiding his thoughts about where he would scrape up an entire garrison cluster. Those brought with the initial invasion force were already spread out, rarely more than a binary to a world. More were coming, but never enough. Perhaps that was the point - Miraborg wanting to tie down troops in garrison, in ways he couldn't have by resisting conventionally.
 
"Once there's a garrison, the soldiers will disarm or be given the chance to earn warrior status in Clan Wolf," Phelan continued tentatively, obviously uncertain. "I didn't really pin down what that would take…"
 
"So they are bondsmen, without the cord." After a moment's thought, the Khan shrugged. "Very well. We will no doubt need more warriors for the touman in the future. It will not be easy for them, but it is worth the try." The Diamond Sharks were reportedly grooming a large number of bondsmen for eventual warrior status, so it was a path worth exploring. "What else?"
 
"Other than that, the same terms you told me to offer. All offworld trade and shipping will be under our control. No further support to worlds fighting Clan Wolf. All taxes that would have been sent to the Free Rasalhague Republic will instead be turned over to the Clan to purchase supplies from Gunzburg."
 
Ulric scanned the documents, quickly confirming that they were as Phelan described. "Very good. The concessions you made are acceptable." With the fifth wave underway, nine other worlds were under attack, and the defenders were no longer caught off guard. It was better to compromise now to bring in Gunzburg at no real cost - Tor Miraborg would not live forever, after which the civilian population could be brought over to the way of the Clans.
 
Phelan looked relieved. Hopefully he didn't realize how stretched the Clan's forces were - the image of strength was one of the reasons that he was choosing to side with Clan Wolf. When it appeared that their victory was inevitable, the young man could tell himself that moderating their policies was the best choice rather than trying to oppose them. And it was time for the next step in that.
 
"Phelan, it is very rare for one of our warriors to be solely responsible for bringing an entire world under Clan Wolf's protection. For it to be done by a bondsman is unique."
 
The youth looked uncomfortable. "I was just…"
 
"Please, many of my duties are onerous," Ulric told him. "Rewarding the deserving is one of the pleasures."
 
Phelan ducked his head, embarrassed.
 
"You will be twenty years old next year. That is the customary age when cadets take their Trial of Position to join the warrior caste. I am sure that Ranna and most of her sibkin will be happy to help you prepare. You will be cleared for the use of our simulators - and we will see what can be done to give you practice time in omnimechs - as operational needs allow, of course."
 
"Y-you mean it?" he stammered.
 
"Of course," Ulric confirmed. "Before the next wave of the invasion, I will arrange the ceremonies to welcome you into Clan Wolf formally, not just as a bondsman but as one of us. You have the heart of the Wolf, I should acknowledge it." He offered his hand. "Welcome home, Phelan."
 
The youth was evidently still conflicted, but he accepted the hand. And Ranna would likely do all she could to encourage Phelan to accept his destiny, without any prompting from Ulric. Perhaps ask Cyrilla Ward to contact Phelan, Ulric thought… He did claim descent from one of the founders' close kin. A case could be made that Phelan was part of the Ward bloodhouse…
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===Unpleasant Thoughts===
Hilton Head, North America
Terra, Sol System
20 November 3050
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Wei Rong had used a stick to draw a circle in the beach sand, then lines to mark out the current borders of the Successor States. Even in this crude approximation, the region occupied by the Clans was larger than the Capellan Confederation. The fifth wave of worlds being hit had brought Clan Wolf almost up to the 'second circuit line' - two hundred and fifty light years from where she stood.
 
"It's been less than a year and they're halfway to Terra." she noted to Anastasius Focht.
 
The one-eyed Precentor Martial nodded solemnly. "My analysts and those in Mu division predict that the leading elements could reach the Terran corridor by the end of next year, if not sooner."
 
Wei rubbed her eyes. "Most of them seemed to be slowing down. But these reinforcements…"
 
"The Smoke Jaguars, Diamond Sharks and Ghost Bears are all seizing a relatively sparsely settled region," he reminded her. "They're gaining volume of space but not so many worlds. The Bears and Jaguars are about to reach one of the most densely packed regions of the Draconis Combine - unless they bypass worlds, they'll be stretched to take them quickly."
 
"But they will take them."
 
Focht moved over and took the pointer, tapping the parts of her crude map that he meant. "Almost certainly. And after that there's the Buckminster Rift… that will let them move forward and keep pace while Clan Wolf enters the Isle of Skye." He shook his head. "This would be easier to show you with a proper map. Is there some reason we're not having this meeting in my command center or your office?"
 
"I needed to get outside for a while. It was turning into an echo chamber in there." Wei waved one hand back towards the HPG complex behind them. "Out here I can get some fresh air and a fresh perspective."
 
The old man shook his head slightly. "If you say so, Primus. In any case, exact estimates vary between ten and fifteen months before at least one Clan holds a world within thirty light years of Terra. At that point we believe the current agreement to grant us the immunity of their Free Guilds would break down."
 
Wei studied the horizon. "Terra is such a prize for them?"
 
"According to Phelan Kell, the Clans have a belief or perhaps an agreement that the Clan which secures Terra will have the status of ilClan."
 
"In the same sense as ilKhan?" she asked.
 
Focht nodded. "Whichever Clan it is, they would claim predominant status and their Khan would become ilKhan - which could mean dethroning Leo Showers. We both know how men and women can be driven by ambition. Even Ulric Kerensky, who claims to see the Clans as protectors of the Inner Sphere, desires the role so that he can impose his will upon the Clans."
 
Wei nodded bleakly and folded her arms behind her back, arching her shoulders back and throwing her chest out a little. "And the chances of the Inner Sphere stopping them, as things stand?"
 
"There is a degree of tapering to the invasion corridors, intended to offset losses as they advance. Even without reverses such as Twycross or the losses on Pesht, attrition was slowing the Clans," the Precentor Martial observed dispassionately. "However, the addition of two other Clans has revitalized their advance - and they have at least one additional Clan in reserve." A stab of the pointer into the sand: "The Free Rasalhague Republic will fall, barring a miracle. The most we can hope for is that they bleed the Wolves and the Smoke Jaguars."
 
That was much what Wei had expected. The Kungsarme simply lacked the numbers to defend their worlds, and each world that fell hurt them far more than larger realms whose core regions were outside the path of the advance. Or had been. "And the Combine?"
 
Focht took a deep breath. "The Diamond Sharks are gambling on Luthien. If they fail, I believe their losses will take them essentially out of the advance for the near future. But if they succeed, the loss of the Combine's best units and the morale impact will severely hinder opposition. And in either case, Ghost Bear's new advance will be unaffected. I don't have a good feel for them yet, and the Diamond Sharks' new Khan is hard to read."
 
"So you believe that Hawker's death hasn't deterred them for following his plan to strike for Luthien?" Wei enquired. "It didn't seem likely, but I'd be interested in why."
 
"According to my sources, it wasn't his plan in the first place - he adopted it, but the driving force was a rising officer in their ranks. An iconoclast within the Clan's ranks - Star Colonel Ace Enders. He has been appointed to lead Alpha Galaxy's advance, which suggests that the strategy is still in effect." Focht grimaced. "I have no direct information on Enders, but he appears to be a divisive figure, young and ambitious."
 
"He wants it all and he wants it now."
 
"Perhaps. Luthien may be the test of whether the Diamond Sharks have the ability to take it. It isn't just the capital of the Combine, it's the largest source of Battlemechs and other heavy military equipment House Kurita can call on. The logistical impact of its loss would be tremendous."
 
Wei turned back to the map and looked at the largest state there. Even losses to the Clans hadn't substantially reduced the vast hourglass shape of the Federated Commonwealth. Not yet. But if the narrow corridor of worlds around Terra was lost to House Steiner-Davion… "And the Federated Commonwealth?"
 
"There are no similar worlds that they must stand and fight for," allowed Focht. "They have more flexibility - and of course, the AFFC is huge. The fighting for Sudeten is fierce, but Hasek-Davion has ordered the other reserves to assemble on Arc-Royal instead - outside the Clans' projected advance so it seems he does not intend to hold on more than he must there."
 
"How many regiments are there?" she asked. "I know the Grey Death Legion's landhold was there."
 
"The Legion was barely back from Twycross, and the First Kathil Uhlans had returned with them," he answered. "The Kell Hounds and the Tenth Lyran Guards," - he paused fractionally on saying that name, catching Wei's attention, but then continued - "travelled anti-spinwards so they were unavailable. It's believed they're escorting Jade Falcon prisoners, tooling from Trellshire Heavy Industries and the remains of the Twelfth Donegal Guards from Trellwan. The Second New Ivaarsen Chasseurs and elements of the Tenth Donegal Guards RCT had arrived since."
 
Wei frowned. "Two regiments and two Regimental Combat Teams are not expected to hold off the Jade Falcons?"
 
"They are facing a full Galaxy," Focht pointed out. "A broadly similar balance of forces to that we saw on Pesht. The Jade Falcons are fighting aggressively, but not to the point of being as reckless as Ian Hawker was there. It's likely they will take losses, but the priority for Marshal Hasek-Davion appears to be buying time to evacuate personnel and to keep the Jade Falcons committed to the fighting until the remaining reserves reach Arc-Royal."
 
"Would it be possible to discreetly assist with that?" she asked. "If not directly then by providing jumpships for other cargo in order to free them up for military shipments?"
 
The man frowned and then drew a circle around the entire map. "We have capacity," he allowed, "But then that cuts into our other activities. I'm not the one to speak to about the financial impact on our commercial shipping, but we have a number of jumpships and dropships committed to bringing the ComGuards back from outlying posts. The aid you've provided to Theodore Kurita has already had a knock-on effect."
 
Wei pursed her lips. "I suppose that's more important." While it wasn't practical to pull the entire ComGuards together, most HPGs now had only detachments of mechanized infantry backed by a handful of light tanks. Many of the enclaves along the rimwards periphery were more exposed to pirates than they had been in a hundred years. "What's the current estimated time of arrival for the field armies?"
 
"We have fifty brigades assembled in the Terran system and enclaves on the other First Circuit worlds," he told her. "Most of the remaining units were stationed along the periphery. I expect another twelve brigades to arrive within a month with the rest trickling in over the next two months."
 
"And if we deploy them to strike at the Clans before then?"
 
Focht raised the pointer and indicated the map. "That would depend on where you want to deploy them. The number of dropship collars required to move even one field army is considerable, and we're talking about two of them."
 
Wei studied the map. "Unfortunately, that depends on what opportunities arise."
 
"The sooner we know, the sooner we can start moving," he advised. "And Primus, one thing I always advise my officers is that it is fatal to commit to a battle without a clear idea of what you want to gain out of it."
 
She looked at him for a long moment and then nodded. "Give me a few minutes."
 
"Primus, I am literally at your command," he said drily and retreated to a deckchair on the beach, looking distinctly regal in his ComGuards uniform despite the sand and the floral pattern of the seat.
 
For her part, Wei kicked off her sandals and walked out until the sand was wet beneath her feet. After a moment, cold Atlantic water washed up and covered her toes briefly, making her shiver.
 
He was right. She needed to focus on a goal, not just react. So what did she want to achieve?
 
Starting from first principles, a nice peaceful retirement, where she could indulge in her vices sounded good. Not on Terra, if possible - someone would insist on bothering her about ongoing ComStar business. Not so far away that Upsilon division started fretting she would start sharing ComStar's dirty little secrets though.
 
For most of her adult life, the Inner Sphere had been at something resembling peace. It was probably the longest period without a war since the fall of the Star League… that it was less than a decade long seemed sad to Wei. Certainly though, these years had been better than the childhood memories of war. The Clans had shattered that fragile hope… and as long as they were fighting, the peace she'd need in order to get out of being Primus and live a life of quiet debauchery wouldn't be a possibility.
 
"What if they won?" she wondered and then shook her head. As the leader of ComStar, if the Clans won she'd be too useful to them - as a trophy if nothing else. She was fairly sure bondsmen didn't get to retire, so that was out.
 
The Clans weren't going to go away though. And even if they did, the Inner Sphere would look for their homeworlds. Even without the coordinates, Jaime Wolf had given enough information to narrow down the possibilities. Space was large but it wasn't infinite. Sooner or later, someone would find the Clans. So one way or another they'd have to be convinced to co-exist with the Successor States.
 
Could she do that without making ComStar their enemy? Halt their advance short of Terra - Focht was right. Proximity would likely be too great a temptation and it would only take one Khan yielding to that.
 
She walked back through the sand towards Focht, feeling it cling to her wet feet. "I believe the Clans need to be stopped before they reach striking distance of Terra," she told him. "Partly for selfish reasons, but also because severing the Terran Corridor might push the Federated Commonwealth to take drastic measures to reconnect. From what you said earlier, the Successor States are unlikely to be able to stop all of the Clans."
 
The Precentor Martial nodded. "Agreed."
 
"I would prefer some means of forcing them to engage with the rest of the Inner Sphere peacefully," Wei added. "But I may be asking too much there."
 
"That would be a matter of striking the right bargain," Focht told her. "And since every decision the Clans make is subject to trial by combat, we will have to fight to make the terms binding."
 
The wind tugged at Wei's hair, tangling it. She raked her hands through it. "Meaning we will become their enemies, endangering all of our enclaves in their territory."
 
He shook his head, his own long hair also caught in the wind except where the tie for his eyepatch secured it. "If we defeat them in a trial over their advance then we would at least have their acknowledgement - under their own rules, any claim they have to make would be a matter of a formal trial for possession. Given we destroyed the Susquehanna HPG rather than surrender it, I believe they would want their own HPGs in place first."
 
"Yes." Wei smirked. "Generations of Primus are rolling in their graves at the fact that we no longer have a monopoly. I wonder if any of the Clans will consider selling their HPGs to Successor States."
 
Focht considered that solemnly. "You may not wish to give the First Circuit that idea. They may not react… rationally." he said at last.
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