TBntG-3 Chpt 13

=The Bull and the Genie=
==Chapter 13 - Book III - The Clan Invasion==
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==Taking Breaks, Making Plans==
===Reviving a Forgotten World===
Wynn's Roost, Outworlds Wastes - Deep Periphery
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How does your new title, feel, Director-General?"
 
"Like it doesn't even come with a pay raise." President Annald Russolillo said. But I have to say it makes sense. The people of the Wastes had been largely Hegemony, both before and after the Amaris Crisis, with refugees fleeing to the further regions to escape the war's engulfing the Inner Sphere. Not the wisest decision.
 
But when Comstar had arrived a few years ago, they'd not just brought technology and experts…they'd brought an offer. The Thing that had doomed the Trader's Domain had been no actual identity beyond "not OA" but holding a referendum to invite several neighboring worlds into a new Hegemony, one that while not part of the old Hegemony, would recall its glory days…
 
Well, it had actually worked better than Annald though it would.
 
Or maybe the several mammoth loads of goodies, including components for a fusion production line, had sold the other worlds.
 
But the looming threat was something that made him nervous. The other descendants of the Hegemony and SLDF, the Clans were far away, but…
 
You don't ship factories this far away if you think there's no chance you're going to lose.
 
Not just the Comstar either. The Taurians had shown up, as had some others and they were busily putting together a JumpShip yard.
 
Nothing nervewracking about that. At least the WarShip yard was being put together a long way away from here, in Quatre Bell.
 
But it was unfair to complain. After all, Wynns Roost was getting everything it had ever needed to pull itself up.
 
If the Clans get here, I wonder if I could argue that the Director-General was first among equals, so they need to obey me? The son of pig ranchers dropped that thought for the far more practical one. They just better not get here.
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===Wrangling Alliance Forces===
ComStar HQ, Hilton's Head Island - Terra, Sol Star System - ComStar Space
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Mary plucked at her uniform, feeling strange in it. It wasn't her Taurian uniform, and if she ever had to do this again, she was going to definitely have a say. Because the uniform, according to the perky tailor who had shown it off, followed her orders. Nobody would get upset about it, because very few Successor States had many worlds founded by the United States. They had been one of the powerful nations in the Alliance, and so had their pick of the best worlds, closest to Terra—which had been the worlds most savaged by the Succession Wars.
 
So just to be certain, they'd used the Army Uniform Patterns, circa 1945 for World War II, mostly important because it was the first war Atomics were used in. Mary had actually had to spend some of her spare time researching it.
 
At least they didn't use period materials. Where there had been US insignia on her collar, there were two golden UMC pins, the Unified Military Command.
 
At least the Clans are giving us time. Mary's waking nightmare was that they'd pull all their forces off of Tharkad and New Avalon, and started using them somewhere else. But every day she woke up, and they were still there. Still holding on to what parts of the worlds they could, while other parts went about their day, quite undisturbed.
 
 Which was more than Mary could say, because it turned out being the general in charge of the UMC involved more politics than 'mech time.
 
 "Primus, I know I am not in charge of Comstar's R&D, but you need to do something. At least let me bring in my people, because they also have experience with unredacted Hegemony technology."
 
"I do recall you complaining." Will said.
 
"Com—" Mary bit off what she was about to say. "Do you know what the R&D people at Vandenberg have been working on?" She touched a button and the image of the huge Battlemech appeared, waddling onto the tarmac, concrete cracking under its footsteps. "One hundred thirty tons, an advancement beyond anything ever seen… that can't outrun a jogging trooper. Loaded with armor, that means it sinks in anything softer than concrete and equipped with weapons that are still shorter ranged than Clan units." She glared at the people around her. "An entire R&D unit was wasting their time on something that couldn't run away, couldn't catch the clan, and couldn't fight them at range…. Presuming it doesn't break down." On the screen the waddling behemoth suddenly froze, tipping over and hitting the ground, men and firefighting units coming into view as something in the legs started smoking.
 
"We had this problem when we first found the core. We can't have a hundred different groups going their own way!" Mary nearly shouted
 
"Well, I'll speak to them, and since you, on your own authority, asked the Protector for some R&D people to ride heard on mine, we'll see." Will tilted. "But for my aged ears, what do you think we need to drop?"
 
"The superheavy armor, and I'm not certain about the heavy armor. Light and medium BA lets us keep speed," Mary said. "Same for mechs. We can't sacrifice everything to speed, but we need to be able to fight maneuver war. The Clans can just go around heavy and assault mechs, and if they're defending a fixed position, tanks do just as well." She shrugged. "Oh, if you could come up with a way for our artillery to beat those Goddamned laser nets!" the last came out as a shout. Years of integrating artillery into every level of the TDF and in some fights, its utility had been degraded by over fifty percent, and the Clans had evidently figured a way to use that to quickly track artillery—faster than anything the Inner Sphere had.
 
Not everything is going badly. They had factories churning out PAL and BA(L) suits, more coming on line every day. The Clans might be able to interdict major moves of DropShips, hunt down mechs, but cargo pods of armor slung in from a commentary? Nope, and they were not making their lives easy on the occupied worlds, even with the limitations both sides were adhering to.
 
Let's hope they continue to do so. If people start targeting civilian groups, or using them for shields, this war is going to get a lot uglier.
 
"I'm more concerned with the raids on the front lines." Hanse Davion said, his voice raspy.
 
Mary wasn't the only one who looked concerned. Officially he was here to provide assistance. Officially it had nothing to do with his doctor's, or the results of a man getting nearly enough PPC charge to turn him crispy and then his heart going away. Officially. But while Hanse wore his uniform, he needed assistance in getting out of his chair and while he insisted on walking (with a cane) there was always a Davion retainer with very fast reflexes by him.
 
"Why should we be?" A ComGuard officer said, shooting an unfriendly gaze at Mary.
 
Yes, yes, barbarian from the sticks…
 
"Our raids have gotten away, and…"
 
"You forget the part about the Clans granting Hegira," Hanse said. "Why are they doing that?"
 
"Because they fear the results of a close battle?" ComGuard officer offered
 
Mary leaned forward, listening to the exchange.
 
Hanse shook his head. "No. They raid, they run into a green occupational unit. They fight, other units show up. The Clan commander grants them Hegira, whether or not they are winning. Those aren't battles the Clan's are expecting to win—they're battles to blood their units."
 
"Then why let our forces leave?"
 
Mary tried not to roll her eyes. She had be dignified, after all. That was another thing. Generalship came with a posture coach. "Because if you're trying to train a unit, massive casualties are the last thing you want. That's why they're being pulled, I bet. To regenerate themselves and serve as training cadres."
 
"The exact opposite from what we've seen in the main theater," Will murmured. "Frontline Clan units tend to fight until their combat-ineffective and then get rotated."
 
"Frontline clan units are staffed with people with an expiration date," Mary said. "I'm worried about this occupation force. We don't have enough penetration, but the fact that the units we've run into…"
 
 "Infantry heavy, but other than that, you could take their organization from the old SLDF manuals," Hanse said.
 
 "That's not all they're taking," Mary muttered. "Bring up slide 3B."
 
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======================================================================================================
FROM THE OCCUPATIONAL COMMANDER.
 
APPOINTED BY THE WILL OF THE CLANS AND THE GREAT FATHER.
 
DIRECTIVE 4B:
 
1. ALL LAWS WILL BE ADMINISTERED WITHOUT REGARDS TO WEALTH OR POSITION. PENALTIES WILL NOT VARY DEPENDING ON WEALTH OR POSITION.
 
2. WHERE THERE ARE CONFLICTING LAWS, THE PLANETARY AUTHORITIES WILL DECIDE WHAT LAWS SHALL BE ENFORCED.
 
3. WHERE THE PLANETARY AUTHORITIES CANNOT DECIDE, THE MOST RESTRICTIVE LAWS SHALL APPLY TO ALL INDIVIDUALS.
 
4. IN CASES WHERE CLAN WARRIORS HAVE VIOLATED THE LAW AGAINST CIVILIANS OUTSIDE OF COMBAT, THEY WILL BE JUDGED ACCORDING TO CLAN LAW, UNLESS THEY REQUEST TO BE JUDGED ACCORDING TO LOCAL LAW.
 
5. TRIALS OF REFUSAL AND GRIEVANCE WILL NOT PERMITTED AS A MEANS TO MITIGATE THE SEVERITY OF ANY CRIMES OR PUNISHMENTS HANDED DOWN BY THE TRIBUNAL.
======================================================================================================
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Under it was a photo of what was left of a firing range with several Zeus Assault 'mechs ceremonially raising their arms.
"I knew the convicted," Mary said. "Turns out that world gives an out. Murder is murder unless by the judgment of the nobility, it was necessary to safeguard a company's profits, or "suppress illegal strike actions". Evidently, the Clan governor thought differently. By the way? That world? They are having no problem with resistance or recruits."
 
"Can we use the last clause?" someone asked.
 
One of the adepts shook his head. "Outside of propaganda? No. Clan laws, or the copies we've found, are more draconian than most Inner Sphere laws, with the out that you can always call a trial."
 
"Not now…" Hanse shook his head. "I'd say send assassins in, but…"
 
"Finding the guy is hard," Mary nodded. "We know his name, Frederick, and the fact that he came up with the plan that kicked our asses up between our ears."
 
"So now he's been shuffled off to a rear post," Hanse said. "Never interrupt an enemy when they're making a mistake, but this doesn't make any sense!"
 
"Oh, I think it makes perfect sense," Will drawled. "Man knows our culture. That means the man's studied our culture. Good chunk of the Clanners I've seen, and some of the POWS we've got, especially the younger ones, seem to think ignorance is a virtue. He can't have many friends in the Clans."
 
Mary rapped her knuckles on the table. "Let's hope that continues. Now, about the…Nova Cats and Diamond Sharks. They've moved into the Circinus Federation and Marian Hegemony. Should we open another front?"
 
"Political question," Will said. "Need to talk to the Magistracy."
 
"I would prefer we don't." Hanse shook his head. "I can hardly believe I'm saying this, but we can't risk losing the Free Worlds League and their factories. Those are large Clans with large fleets. If they're content to secure space we've never cared about, well, deliberately provoking them…"
 
"Right," Mary nodded. And we need better intelligence. Why did they just suddenly veer off like this? Rasalhague makes sense, in terms of tightening up their supply lines, but not that. The only thing Mary could think of was setting up for a jumpoff to open a new front, but their recon hadn't shown any preparations needed. Don't forget, we didn't see any preparations before they mousetrapped us.
 
"We need to also keep blooding our forces." Mary finally said. "We don't have their problem of fresh recruits, but… mixing Davions, Kuritans, Canopians, etc, is presenting problems all its own."
 
"Keeping the units segregated might solve that."
 
Mary shook her head at the First Princes comment. "Until I have a majority Davion unit realizing a majority Kuritan unit is anchoring their flank. Better to find out who is unreliable and can't let go now."
 
"I do have one last development." Will said. "And it cannot go beyond this room."
 
"What?"
 
"Comstar was working on a system to… track jumps."
 
Mary blinked. "And?"
 
"We ran into a brick wall, until now. Seems that since someone released the core all over the sphere, more and more worlds have been able to build supercomputers. Someone out in the Free Worlds League solved Fuchida's 12th Theorem as part of her graduate work. My boys got it and it might—might—open the way to tracking Clan forces."
 
"Remember what I said about R&D?" Mary said. "Forget it. Put whatever you need on this." The ability to track ships… Oh, wouldn't that be an ugly surprise the next time they try to get clever.
 
"It's not ready to go, or anything like it," Will cautioned. "But we'll see."
 
The rest of the meeting discussed other matters, including the securing of any WMD arsenals that looked like they might fall to the Clans.
 
Finally, Mary adjusted her uniform, got up and looked at her data pad and all the papers full of material too delicate to put on an electronic network.
 
"General?"
 
"First Prince?" Mary asked.
 
"I have a favor to ask you."
 
"I… am at your disposal unless it involves Taurian worlds."
 
The prince smiled, slightly. He hadn't smiled much since it became plain it was too dangerous for Melissa to attempt to leave Tharkad. The Clans might not be able to find her on the ground but space…
 
I bet they wish she'd leave. They can't be enjoying all of her pirate broadcasts…
 
"Victor has demanded a front line posting. I would ask you to take him in as part of the UMC unit. Katherine… she has also asked, but I can hold her back."
 
"She's sixteen."
 
"She pointed out that being sixteen hasn't stopped people from fighting the Clans, and how bad it would look if a princess was shielded from sharing the same risk as her mother." His lips quirked slightly. "She is developing a ruthless political streak. Fortunately, I'm sneakier than her. She will be exposed to danger—technically, but it's unlikely her battlesuit unit will be exposed to extensive combat."
 
Not exposed to extensive combat, not no combat. The damage of deliberately keeping her out of any chance of combat wasn't something the First Prince was willing to risk, not even for his daughter.
 
"Why Victor?" she asked.
 
"He's determined to make a name for himself. He's skilled, excellent in a mech, a good leader… and I worry that, combined with his status, might see him able to convince his fellows…"
 
"Ah. You want an uncultured barbarian who will tell the prince his idea is stupid and he's not going to die gloriously."
 
"I would say it differently.", Hanse told her.
 
"I already have Hohiro Kurita, and Omi Kurita is going to be stationed as a liason…" Mary nodded. "I'll do that, if you'll do something for me."
 
"What?", elder statesman asked.
 
"Hohiro is military, Omi isn't. Neither is Minoru, but he's here studying the way of…something or other in Japan. Most notably, all of them are out of the Combine." Mary stared at Hanse. "The reports out of the combine from our ambassador are very nice, very calm, everything is nice, we are all true sons of the Dragon. Now, it'd be politically impossible for me to ask the Coordinator if he's sitting on a revolution, I don't trust Comstar, and TMI has no clue. So if you would be so kind…"
 
"I'll get on it. I can tell you that a number of those who were hostile to the Coordinator's reforms have been gathering support."
 
"Odd," Mary said. "Normally the Combine…"
 
"Theodore is serious about reforming and he is very reluctant to take such actions… normally I'd say that was a good thing, but I find myself…" Hanse sighed. "Wishing Takashi had survived."
 
"Keep me informed. The Clans in the Combine are sitting pat, but if they see an opportunity…"
 
"Right."
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===Small Bed, Big Job===
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The bed was too small, as usual. At least it hadn't collapsed.
 
Frederick couldn't always stay in space, and his security team solved the issue by simply choosing a hotel at random when he grounded. If even they didn't know…
 
The guests were comped another hotel, and they were already leaving, chattering kids looking up at the hulking Elementals in their powered Battle Armor that had taken up position. Some wondered why they could not stay.
 
Frederick snorted in his bed. Because were I the opposing commander and I had a chance to deal with my opposite number with a bomb, your presence would not stay my hand.
 
Tomorrow he had a tour to take of the newest provisional unit, then a briefing with the Watch as to how loyal they were, and THEN a meeting with angry warriors who had lost their omnimechs in favor of second line mechs, to remind them that this was not a war that would let you retire to the rear lines to refit your mech.
 
And reports from the main front. A Smoke Jaguar unit had gloriously taken a village, leveling it in the process, losing only three mechs for nearly a dozen Inner Sphere vehicles.
 
Then an hour after they left the village it was reoccupied. A useless victory.
 
Frederick closed his eyes, and imagined the cheers of victory by young Clan warriors who knew that logistics were a merchant's work.
 
And behind them were lines and graphs. The production and mobilization numbers of the Inner Sphere, graphs almost vertical.
 
Our fleet is our only current advantage, and they were only in the process of building fleet docks themselves. Only the danger of being cut off would keep the Inner Sphere from burying them in a tide of troops. If they could stop their fleets, then maybe the occupied zones would provide enough troops to…
 
What? Take Terra? They won't stop fighting, you know that from the prisoners you've taken. So we defeat their forces and take Terra? What then?
 
Frederick had no answer as he prepared to force himself to nap. Sometimes it felt like he had to do the work of 10 men, and he wasn't getting any younger.
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Book 3 - 13