TEP Chpt 14

=The Eagle's Perch=
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==Chapter 14 - Payment==
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===Fighting forces of League's Most Hated Person===
Regulus IV, Principality of Regulus
Free Worlds League
November 11th, 2732
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Johnson Johanson Halas Junior
The War began with two provinces and one World-Province against the full might of the Marik Commonwealth and the Principality of Regulus. Oriente, Andurien, and Kalidasa did not have the economic strength necessary to match the League's most industrialized and mercantile provinces. That wasn't even counting the minor provinces supporting The Bitch. That was nearly half of the League's economy firmly behind the Tyrant.
 
The Rebellion simply did not have the economic might necessary to match the Loyalists. Wars are numbers games, and even the most casual of armchair generals could see the writing on the wall. The longer this civil war was, the worse our position would be. The Rebellion was destined to putter out, and die.
 
No one counted the minor World-Provinces. While they made the majority of the League, they were unreliable, fractious, and worse of all terrified of Elise. She spent years putting the screws on everyone, but she especially loved to 'ensure the loyalty' of the weakest among us. Rumors of blackmail, murders, and financial fraud abounded. World-Provinces, previously quiet and unassuming, would turn around and give full-throated support for Elise Marik and her goons. Those that didn't support her, at the very least, would not resist her. They were a lost cause. Or so it was assumed.
 
Hate is a powerful word. Hate is irrational. Hate is a powerful motivator to do things no one sane would, for causes no one thinks reasonable.
 
Elise Marik is the most hated woman in the entirety of the Free Worlds League. No amount of easy association with Boris or support for his charities would ever chip at the summit of hate she has built. Between Furlough and Elise, any patrician with two bullets in their gun would double-tap Elise.
 
I know I would.
Still. It comes as a pleasant surprise when the Spinward World-Provinces eagerly jumped at the chance to join us. Together, they and Oriente, built the Spinward wall. A wall of metal and stars splitting the Free Worlds League into two between the Loyalists and Rebels.
 
When Boris first proposed his plans, my peers and I only mildly approved of them. You don't win wars by building walls. You especially didn't win wars at a disadvantage by prolonging them. He went on about the minor World-Provinces joining a righteous cause. That was also met with mild approval. Making a raucous and causing some trouble to draw some Loyalist units away was something those petty provinces could accomplish, before being crushed.
 
His plans were ultimately met with approval because they were sensible, and he was a Marik Captain-General. He was our Marik Captain-General. If the Marik said this was a sensible strategy, history always proved them right. It's why they were given the right of first refusal for the seat of the Captain-General in the first place.
 
History proved the Marik right again. Two of Boris' picked men, one contract lawyer, one smuggler, one DropShip, several tonnes of Germanium, and a JumpShip was all that was needed to set the entire Anti-Spinward on fire. In a conflagration not seen since the Reunification War, the Anti-Spinward turned into a true second front. And, a bleeding ulcer for Elise.
 
Try as she might, she simply doesn't have the ships necessary to protect and monitor every system.
 
That's how we slipped into Regulus IV. Not enough ships to keep an eye on the space lanes, especially between the stars, the one place no one outside the SLDF patrols.
 
"Alright ladies and gents, we have our target. It's an admin building North North West of the DropPort. Set speed to 60." I commanded.
 
Our mission was to draw forces away from the DropPort. We would accomplish that by wrecking everything necessary for keeping the Principality of Regulus in the loyalist camp. Little things like servers housing important contracts and debts, to bigger things like Command and Control facilities keeping track of all brigades, were on our agenda.
 
It may not have been Elise's intention to bare so many of her vulnerable administrative capabilities for us to shoot, but in trying to keep Regulus loyal, she has done so all the same. Ought to thank Elise for that. Her stupid paranoia pushed her to create a parallel administration. How that would keep Cameron-Jones loyal, I don't know. Maybe she intended to off the family like her dad did for Selaj.
 
At the very least, there were plenty of targets for all three regiments of the 1st Brigade
 
The wide boulevards of Regulus IV were surrounded by arcologies. There was a certain quaint charm to these smaller roads. They reminded me of the small dirt roads back home, especially those little shrines to Hindu gods. My own home in Oriente had a distinctly Greek flair, and small pagan temples dedicated to the worship of the old Greek gods weren't uncommon.
 
The Lights made it to our objective first. A short radio call back told of a company of mechs and three of vees guarding the admin complex. An easy fight.
 
"Second and Third Battalion isolate the compound. Third Company, smash their eastern flank. First and Second Company on me. We're taking the front."
 
Valuable, immobile targets, that were lightly defended by a company of mechs and some vees, they were easy pickings for my Jesters. We were giving the rest of the Soul Stealers regiments the run around by having the more mobile second and third regiments hunt down and destroy AA emplacements and units.
 
The 1st Brigade of Fusiliers of Oriente were second only to the Ducal Guard. Anyone else, and everyone else, could not match our skill in war.
 
Before we got into shooting range I called Aerospace Command, "Charlie King, this is Juliet Actual, requesting aero support in grid coords 37237642. Over."
 
-("Acknowledged Juliet Actual. We have Romeo's Thunderbird air lance 5 minutes out,")- they replied.
 
Alice Allison pulled out all the stops for this. Bringing in everything that might be needed to support Boris' federal remnants and then some more. Aerospace Command demonstrated that by how easily and professionally they interfaced with the rest of the Fusiliers, the 8th Marik Militia, and the 2nd Fleet. Oriente demanded the best from its soldiers, and we always deliver.
 
The administration complex was a 10 km wide box, holes inside to allow vehicle and mech traffic into and through the compound. It was a little fortress in its own right. The defenders entrenched within could feasibly hold off my Assault company for some time, for as long as their defenses held.
 
The distant screech of fusion torches were the only warning before forty bombs fell across the Southern buildings. Flak chased after the Thunderbirds from within, but couldn't stop them. Their timing and approach was perfect. The pristine chrome and white marbled edifice crumbled like paper under the sheer firepower a second before we began firing.
 
One of the Regulan mechs stumbled away from the buildings and was caught out in the open. We cut down immediately. An entire Assault lance concentrating fire to ruin that one unlucky son of a bitch. He didn't even have time to punch out.
 
"By lance, bounding overwatch. Get inside that compound and burn it down."
 
Obeying my command, the company leapt into position, pushing aggressively against the enemy BattleMechs. The three remaining Hunchbacks hid behind the rubble and laid down a constant stream of angry red from their AC/5s. The Bulldog lance supporting them was quickly cut down before they could contribute anything worthwhile.
 
It took thirty seconds before the rest could react to us. It took a further minute before they demanded reinforcements. Two minutes from when the battle began, high command lased information that the rest of the Hussars local regiment was moving to respond.
 
That was a pathetic performance by the Soul Stealers.
 
Two minutes was a small eternity for BattleMech combat. In the time it took for the Soul Stealers to realize one of their companies were under attack, the 2nd Company already crashed into the defender's eastern flank, and we were rolling them up.
 
I suppose that's what's to be expected from the League's third-best provincial militia.
 
"This is Boris, the 8th is 10 klicks West of the DropPort. Fighting is fierce, but we're pushing forward. Elise, if you're listening. You know where I am. Fight me. Show the Sphere what kind of woman you are and fight me! The League is watching."
 
I smiled at hearing that. Despite not being raised as a proper gentry noble, he still acts like one. A Noble must be noble, leading from the front is just one of our duties for the plebeians.
 
The first and second quickly pushed inside the complex, resistance all but collapsing, before suddenly rallying when an old Striker BattleMech stepped around a corner of the Western buildings and half-heartedly killed one of my Locusts. The MechWarrior squared up with the surviving lances and traded with us blow for blow.
 
It was then that my Assault lance intervened. Arthur in his Orion slathered the battlefield underneath a healthy dose of smoke, and we marched in slowly, hugging the compound's buildings. You weren't supposed to push into smoke, especially one containing an enemy Assault Mech. But those rules were for mech jocks too stupid and ill disciplined to make the cut into the Fusiliers.
As we carefully walked forward, the rest of the companies continued to fire into the smoke where the Striker entered from. The exit was now a death trap, and the defenders effectively cornered. I led the way for my half of the lance. Two Bulldogs were crushed underfoot, and one unfortunate Hunchback had their cockpit bathed underneath my lasers and SRMs before I found the Striker.
The Striker was already hit by stray autocannon fire, sporting damage across its right torso. When it saw me, the MechWarrior immediately turned to shield their vulnerable side, while firing off their large laser and two medium lasers.
 
He successfully melted off some of my torso armor, before I stomped forward and brutally ended the fight by smashing his cockpit with my left fist. A small red smear colored my hand as I pulled it out.
 
As the smoke cleared, the Soul Stealers with us became more visible. Flanked on all sides, except their rear, it was quick work to end them. An entrenched mech company, supported by an Assault mech, and two vee companies, were destroyed in a little over five minutes.
 
Checking my tacmap I saw a regiment of ASF bearing down on the rest of the approaching Soul Stealers. A complex dance of by the unit boxes told a story on its own. Slashing in and out on fake attack runs, the ASF 4th 'Hounds' Regiment's squadrons were trying to bait enemy anti-air for DEAD. The AA units that revealed themselves had a full squadron dedicated to their destruction.
 
That was Boris' idea. To peel off aerospace into its own arm for this mission. Their primary responsibility was to attain aerospace supremacy, and then support planetside forces. As an independent branch, they had complete control over how they would conduct an aerospace campaign, independent of the considerations of the navy and army.
 
To keep us harmonized, we created the Joint Commands, leaders, and representatives from all three branches, sitting together to coordinate and plan the invasion of Regulus IV. He was making full use of how well oiled the Fusiliers and the Marik Militia were. Anyone else would fall to disorganization and competing personalities.
 
After five minutes, another ASF regiment, the 6th Falcons, flew in through the hole and smashed the Soul Stealers. The 4th returned and dropped the rest of their bombs before pulling away. These Hussars were out of the fight. While they were still mobile and capable of fighting, too much of their armor was evaporated. Now they were in danger of combat loss groupings. If their entire brigade met mine, mine would win easily.
 
The wonders of overwhelming aerospace supremacy.
 
Naturally, I ordered my Jesters to chase after them, and we weaved through the arcologies and ferrocrete streets to hunt them.
 
All part of the plan. Destroy high value targets to bait the enemy to send in Mechs, blast away their armor with aero or orbital suppport, then send in our Mechs to finish them off. Rinse and repeat until there's no more mech brigades left.
 
We had aero superiority. We had orbital superiority. We had superior training, doctrine, and above all motivation. Even if we're technically outnumbered by 2:1 in Mechs on the ground, our superiority in combined arms more than evened the fight.
 
A flash of light stole my attention. Orbital fire from the distant guns of the 2nd Fleet were raking the countryside around Regulus City. Some town must have been hiding an anti-air unit the Rocket Jockeys couldn't handle, and in doing so earned the ire of the navy. Other distant lights told a similar story. The hand of god came down from on high to punish the evil with the wrath of justice. Who knows how many conventional divisions died in the opening bombardment.
 
My regiment ran down the Soul Stealers from behind. The rubble of arcologies barely acted as cover for their ruined mechs. No doubt Boris was also getting acquainted with scenes like this. A little more than half the Soul Stealers made it out, the rest fell in a rear guard action against mine. As a unit, the Soul Stealers were out of the fight.
 
My comms blinked and came to life, Alice Allison was on the horn. Her face was grave and cut from stone, and her white-gray hair was chiseled into a severe ponytail. Flinty black eyes stared at me from the little holobox. This was a far cry from the easy-going woman so many months ago.
 
<("JJ, I need you to take your Jesters and head East. There you will engage Sullivan Cameron-Jones and his 1st Regulan Hussars, the 'Steel Hussars'. They're too close to an inhabited civilian arcology for orbital bombardment,")> leaning forward she continued, <("I need you to keep them busy. The Ducal Guard will be dropping on top of the DropPort. Once taken, the 12th Marik Militia and the 2nd Fusiliers will land their full brigades and capture the rest of the city.")>
 
<("I cannot emphasize this enough, be careful. You will be fighting the Steel Hussars full brigade, and unlike the rest of the Hussars these are properly trained veteran soldiers,")> she looked off to the side and gave some quiet words to someone off-screen. "I need to go. Good luck, and good hunting,")> she finished.
 
I grunted an affirmative in reply.
 
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===New Orders, New Objectives===
Mechs were the pinnacle of human weaponry. Tonne for tonne, a BattleMech, was simply better than any other option for planetary combat. They also had the price tag to match, often their manufacturing price was twice that of an equal tonne vehicle. Their MSRP was twice that, too. That wasn't even accounting for market conditions. All that extra cost added up before including the MechWarrior, who's training ballooned the cost of running a mech regiment far beyond any conventional option.
 
The cost was worth it. No other war machine could be dumped out the back of a DropShip mid-orbital flight, hurtle down planetside and take the fight to the enemy within the same breath. There were ways to counter the BattleMech, typically by hitting from a different axis than what mechs are designed for. Aerospace and the navy were one option. The other option was to drown the mechs underneath a tsunami of steel.
 
Mechs are not meant for prolonged wide-front attritional warfare. They are awful at it. Too many resources for too little machinery to cover too much ground. That's why vehicles continue to be the main body of all militaries. Vehicles were something that could be acquired at MSRP. Vehicle regiments were so common, no one kept track of them. The best guesses put the Great Houses alone at 6:1 vehicle regiments to mech regiments.
 
That's why DropPorts continue to be militarily important. A DropPort was one of the few ways you could efficiently unload entire brigades of vehicles and infantry in a handful of hours. A DropPort like a Regulus City's could unload entire divisions within one hour. What would normally take month to years to conquer a world, would be reduced to weeks with the sheer amount of material that could be quickly deployed.
 
Taking a DropPort was a rather blatant demonstration of intent. If Boris wants the DropPort, he wants the planet too.
 
It was a helluva gamble. Out here, we're the juiciest target since Alarion, when we seduced away the Lyran's first BattleMech technicians. We would be a magnet for loyalist forces across the Free Worlds League. But maybe that's the point, we're pushing in from all sides to Atreus. And, Bertram still lives, even if he is a disgusting cyborg nowadays.
 
I finished off a Warhammer with a clean shot through their center torso before addressing my unit. "Jesters, orders from above. We're going East, along the H-98, towards a meeting engagement with the 1st Regulan Hussars. Set speed to 60, and form the Fist, the 1st Battalion will take point."
 
A staccato of affirmations followed, and the 1st Regiment wheeled East, taking off down the mega highway.
 
As we marched, I thought about my orders. Sullivan Cameron-Jones was a supporter of Elise, albeit a lukewarm supporter. If it came down to it, should I kill him? It would be a blow against the Captain-General to lose a supporter. It would be a blow against both Captain-Generals, Elise and Boris.
 
When the peace comes, win or lose, the number of allies for the Captain-General would be incredibly important for negotiating their powers vis-à-vis the Provinces. The question, is whether it would be wise to weaken that seat now, or wait later.
 
I opened a private line to my 2nd Company's commander, Jessica. Jessica was a friend and ally, we've known each other since our early days at Princefield Military Academy. We've learned together, fought together, and defended the honor of the Fusiliers against our gainsayers together ever since.
 
"Jessica, I need a word with you. Should we kill Cameron-Jones?" I asked, trusting her to answer honestly and to keep this secret.
 
Jessica stayed silent for over a minute, as we traveled down the mega highway.
 
After a few more heartbeats, she spoke, >)"Cameron-Jones hold on Regulus is weak. The Regulans chafe underneath their rule, and would elect another of their member for Dukedom, if not for the implication of betraying the Free Worlds League for their personal profits."(<
 
The betrayal of the Selaj's bit everyone in the Free Worlds League deeply, even their own family, especially their own province.
 
Regulus was one of the three founding provinces of the Free Worlds League. That meant that the average Regulan was a firm in their belief of the League as any of Atreus' most hardcore supporter.
 
The stain of 'The Great Betrayal' was something they worked desperately to wash off amongst their peers. Regulans were great friends if you were a Federalist, not so if you were a Provincialist.
 
<)"Were these orders from Alice?"(> she asked. Ah. I see where she was going.
 
"Yes," I answered. "But that's not what I'm worried about."
 
<)"Boris?"(>
 
"Yes."
 
She fell back into silence, mulling her thoughts over.
 
The collapsed wrecks of an arcology blocked our path further down the mega highway, so we turned north towards the enemy lines. Our positioning meant we'd either hit Cameron-Jones in his flank or rear if he made towards the DropPort.
 
Spears of fire sliced through the upper atmosphere. Several Small Craft and their escorts were burning hard towards the DropPort. Two regiments of ASF accompanied those Small Crafts. One of them peeled off and engaged a rising cloud of metal from the Regulan lines.
 
As the Small Craft passed over the DropPort small glittering lights fell away from the cavernous holds. Flak, lasers, lightning, and missiles, chased after the Small Craft, in a vain search for glory. Every anti-air gunner dreamed of being a dragon slayer. That was until they realized the danger they ignored.
 
The glittering lights were chaff and bombs that fell away, the standard loadout for an ECM bombing run. They and the Small Craft hid a different fire descending from the heavens. Drop pods fell like tears of hate from the Gods, aimed straight at the heart of Regulus IV's anti-air network.
 
Through the glittering clouds came the 1st Flight, Alice's personal ASF regiment, slated solely for her and her Ducal Guards.
 
If the drop pods were tears of hate, they were arrows of wrath. As soon as they could acquire a targeting solution, they released bombs and began firing everything they had. It rained hard and washed away the umbrella of safety.
 
Even 100 km away, I could see through my mech's eyes the man-made storm smash away at the Regulan defenses.
 
Once the ASF got close enough, like a figure skater they gracefully turned, sliding out and away to the safety of orbit. Their part was done.
 
Shortly after another strike came through. The 6th ASF regiment we brought along was made entirely of Heavies. Every bird carried upwards of fourteen tonnes of bombs. Together they carried nearly as much firepower as some warships.
 
Unlike a warship they flew with deadly grace. Lines traced freely across the sky before swooping down towards the ground.
 
The defenders, already dazed and confused, couldn't hope to mount an able defense against the heaviest aerial predators humanity had ever designed.
 
The riot of colors rising from the earth quieted wherever they passed. Dull thumps and newly bloomed red roses followed in their wake.
 
It was enough for the Ducal Guard to land nearly unmolested.
 
I hadn't noticed it, but my unit and I had slowed to a stop. Our cameras enhanced the picture of the battle to see more clearly history being made. An awed whisper came from Kal, the commander of the 3rd Company, (("Perfect…"))
 
It was.
 
This was why the Fusiliers were the best provincial militia in the entire League. Only we understood that warfare was not a game. It was a team effort in a desperate gamble for survival. We kept the best military traditions from the old Terran Alliance alive and well, and complimented it with our dedication to proper statesmanship and diplomacy.
 
War in our lexicon was the final option. So you better be the best at it.
 
"Alright, shows over soldiers!" I shouted, "Let's get back into the fight!" Shaken away from their wonder, discipline reasserted itself amongst our ranks. Though understandable, that was embarrassing. We were the Fusiliers, we should not be dropping our knickers and let discipline fall to the wayside, for any reason. Especially not on the battlefield.
 
Our orbital superiority gave us a near perfect view of the battlefield. Letting us see the battle for the planet in a way only a sim can. For the general staff safely tucked away above, the war became a game. Unit pins moved along beautifully rendered terrain towards their objectives.
 
It was too game-like and too perfect. Incapable of fully conveying the chaos down below, it gave the false impression of perfect control over an inherently anarchic situation. There was a reason why proper nobles led from the front, it was the only way to be sure, and to connect yourself with the lives of the people you led. However, it was still incredibly useful as it gave unmatched situational awareness.
 
With orbital support, you fought with both eyes open, seeing clearly forward. Without orbital support, you were near-sighted or blind. Neither Elise nor Sullivan has a clue what we're currently doing. They could only react to our actions. Their only saving grace was that the wrecks of buildings acted as semi-decent cover against sensors. So it wasn't completely lopsided in our favor.
 
So when the Ducal Guard fell from on high and pierced the heart of the Regulans anti-air network, everyone saw, and the defenders could do nothing but react. The Strat Map had the Steel Hussars reforming into three columns as they sprinted towards the DropPort. Even Elise and her 1st Free Worlds Guards 'The Amazons' peeled off from their engagement with Boris.
 
My plan was simple: use our superior intel and aerospace advantage to destroy Sullivan in detail, especially as he concentrated on rescuing the DropPort. With his back exposed and functionally half-blind, it should be easy to pick off lances and companies before fading away.
 
Sullivan wasn't completely stupid. A battalion of vees spread across 12 km replaced the BattleMech regiments, if only to act as sacrificial warning sirens. Not that it would help.
 
"Charlie King, this is Juliet Actual, request aero support against an enemy vee regiment. Grid coords 37997611."
 
"Acknowledged Juliet Actual. Request approved, two air lances of Thunderbirds are en route."
 
Vees weren't a priority, so they didn't get subjected to the tender mercies of a full ASF regiment. Still, two lances of Thunderbirds carried 80 tonnes of bombs between them. It was more than enough to carpet entire city blocks.
 
Four Thunderbirds flew above and released their payload. The horizon in front of us briefly transformed from a cheery blue to a furious orange. The ruins of arcologies were further blasted apart.
 
A few still stood. Those civilians that couldn't escape took refuge within. A silent agreement between all not to touch those.
 
At times, the Civil War could be civil.
 
Trudging through the wreckage, we blasted the dazed survivors. Sullivan was smart, using the ruins of the arcologies to create pseudo anti-mech walls, funneling vehicles and mechs into obvious lanes. But that wasn't enough, not against proper combined arms warfare.
 
Tigers were among the most common tanks in the Star League. Despite being second line tanks, they still possessed enough firepower to be a threat to mechs above the Light class. Properly supported, a lance could kill a medium mech.
 
 Unfortunately for them, their support had bigger problems to worry about.
Two barely functional Tiger grinded their turrets around enough to fire a volley at us. It missed me, but hit my lance mate Kemal in the right torso, and threw him to the ground. BattleMasters were Assault class BattleMechs. They were built tough, but nothing was quite tough enough to shake off being smacked by the rapid fire of double AC/10s.
 
At the same time I threw a quick snapshot from my PPC and punched a hole through one of the tank's ruined armor, popping the turret clean off. Simultaneously, my medium lasers finished off the second.
 
"Kemal, are you alright?" I asked.
 
He was coughing before he could reply, <-"I'm alive, sir. Don't think I'll be able to continue fighting, though. My tosros all banged up."-> Kemal's biometrics and internal camera were still working. Despite the coughing earlier, he was physically fine, and could at least walk his mech out of the combat zone.
 
"Head back with Arthur, Kemal. You can't fight in the state you're in." And what a state it was. Just a single salvo from the Tigers savaged the right side. I could see his insides from where I stood.
<-"Yes, sir!"-> he replied. I put a word out to command to send in a unit to link up with Kemal and George to escort them back to our temporary base. The abandoned fuel refinery was a good distance away from Regulus City, and a half lance of Assault mechs were a juicy target. That put me down two Assault mechs for my lance. It was just me and Henry.
 
That's fine. Wars aren't won by who has the most Assaults, but who has the better military force. Right now, after seeing how the Soul Stealers preformed, I was confident it was the rebels.
Evidently, the loyalists took offense to my thoughts. Inside the underground parking lots of the arcologies, SRM Carriers burst out. They must have used the surviving underground connections between the skyscrapers.
We were surrounded. Tigers to our front and SRM Carriers to our sides.
 
I wasted no time and sprinted forwards. I fired my SRMs smoke rounds ahead to cover my approach, and snapped a shot to my right to destroy one of the SRM Carriers.
 
"2nd and 3rd a Battalion clear the flanks, 1st Battalion charge!" I shouted. There was only one way to deal with vehicles in an ambush like this, it was to use our superior mobility and toughness to crush them underfoot.
 
The 'BattleFist' was a simple formation, a rough column spread out into an uneven triangle. It gave just enough room for all companies to maneuver, especially in reaction to whatever the tip met.
 
When I ordered my Jesters to charge, it wasn't just my 1st Company pumping their legs forward into the waiting guns of the enemy. The 2nd and 3rd Companies punched out from their positions and collapsed on the SRMs on my flanks.
 
It was a brutal melee. Autocannons and SRMs were infamous for their high performance, in spite of what their weight suggests. Unlike energy weapons, they could spew fire down range like a machine gun for as long as ammo stores permits.
 
A Tiger tried to rapidly reverse away from its position before I could stomp it. Too little too late. The front glacis crumbled like cardboard beneath my foot. With its front and barrel gone, the tank was a fancy metal brick.
 
SRMs peppered my left side when I stepped off the tank. I pumped lasers into it to finish it off, and used the ammo explosion as cover while I side stepped. Another volley of SRMs harmlessly passed where I was. I raked the area they came from with my lasers in reply.
 
When the explosion died down, I saw the little bastard that shot me. Before I could punish him, the 2nd Lance from my Company bathed it with lasers. The remaining missiles inside exploded furiously. When the fire died down, the SRM Carrier looked like a used fire cracker.
 
"Good shooting," I praised Jamal, my 2nd Lance's lead.
 
"Thank you, sir." he replied brusquely.
 
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===Tolerating the Heavy Hand===
Before I could say anymore, I finally noticed my comm unit beeping and flashing an urgent message. "Hold on," I asked.
 
A scratchy voice came out the other end. Their tone was none too pleased with how long I took to answer. <<"Juliet Actual, this is Anvil, be advised, the 1st Steel Hussars have wheeled around during your engagement and are now making towards your position. They are moving through the arcology ruins, so we cannot pinpoint their exact speed or location. By our best estimates, we believe they will arrive within one hour. Over and out.">>
 
"Roger, Anvil. Solid copy on all. Steel Hussars bearing down on my unit through the ruins. Out." I switched channels and reopened my line with Aerospace Command, "Charlie King this is Juliet Actual, I have a full brigade of mechs, the Steel Hussars, bearing down on my position, grid coords 37997611. I am requesting aero support. Over."
 
-("Roger, Juliet Actual. Negatory on the aero support. Objective Primus has rallied every other mech brigade within the city and is making her way towards Objective Delta. Reinforcements have landed and are currently in the process of unloading. All ASF have been retasked with supporting the main effort. No ASF regiments are available at this time,")- O'Hara's deadpan tone had a hint of apology in them.
 
All six ASF regiments have been retasked with annihilating Elise and all her little friends. Great for the cause, not so for me. My unit just fought off an ambush. We weren't fresh, and our armor collectively hung around the 85th percentile.
 
I suppose this was why Alice told me to be careful.
 
"Jesters, change of plans. The Steel Hussars have changed direction and are making their way straight to us. Additionally, all aero support has been retasked to aid in completing the primary objective. We are on our own for now," I relayed, careful to keep my tone confident. "We're pulling back to Indigo point, and regrouping with the rest of the 1st Brigade." Indigo point was a preset regrouping area for the entire brigade in case we bit off more than we could chew.
 
I'm not sticking around to fight Sullivan in a battlefield he's clearly chosen, especially at three-to-one odds without aero or orbital support.
 
There goes my plan of defeating him in detail. At least I'm keeping them busy.
 
<)"Jay?"(> asked Jessica.
 
"Hmm?"
 
<)"We shouldn't kill him. Boris has too much support. This might be the only opportunity we have to curtail the future power of the Captain-General. Both of them."(>
 
While I couldn't see why she thought Boris had too much support, I couldn't argue with her logic. The position of Captain-General needs to go, and more Provincialist allies would help our cause.
 
"I agree."
 
Today, we shall tolerate the heavy hand of the Captain-General.
 
Tomorrow we shall be free.
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