FSML Chpt 4

=Chapter 4=
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==Frederick Steiner and the Man Who Knew Too Little==
===Planning a Raid===
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Wyatt City, Wyatt
Federation of Skye, Lyran Commonwealth
24 June 3008
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Edward Regis was much as Frederick remembered him from his time on Tharkad. Quiet, soft-spoken, but with a sharp eye for detail.
“Operation Commonplace has the objective of disrupting the DCMS’ operational tempo across Dieron District,” he explained to Frederick and the other senior staff of the Seventh Lyran Regulars - a larger number than it had been now that battalions of artillery and armor had been attached, making use of salvage from New Dallas. “They’re used to us focusing on countering their attacks or launching spoiling operations against border worlds. At mostly, we’ve launched counterattacks - again, on the border. They know that and have plans for that.”
“So this is something different,” Frederick deduced.
Regis indicated the chart of Dieron District. “We’re going to hit their border worlds with raids, but rather than withdrawing, the raiding forces will continue deeper, hitting worlds three and four jumps from the Commonwealth. Our thinking is that most of the Combine’s officers won’t be able to ignore that, they’ll feel obliged to hunt down the raiders in order to save face. This will pull units away from the border and force them to guess at where we’re striking. A unit that spends six months looking for raiders without finding them is a unit tying up shipping and supplies while causing no harm to the Commonwealth. Of course, if they do find the raiders, then they’ll likely be able to bring overwhelming numbers to bear so security has to be absolutely airtight.”
Frederick hid a scowl. So Hermann had been right about this. Unfortunate, but Max had thought that it sounded plausible. And to be fair, the older man wasn’t anything close to ready to use his Orion in battle unless he absolutely had to.
“It seems to me,” he said aloud, “That they might try to intercept us on return to the Commonwealth. Using uninhabited systems is risky - a jumpship failure could strand a force and if we’re broken into several groups it might be a while before we learn that a given group needs transport - and backtracking for search and rescue would be difficult.”
Regis nodded his head. “That’s true. We’re considering having the raiding parties converge at a predetermined border world that we can send an escort to assist if need be. That way the use of uninhabited system is averted.”
Frederick examined the map. “I see… may I suggest an alternative?”
“Of course, Colonel.” Regis agreed graciously.
“Don’t worry, I’m not my uncle. This is a suggestion, nothing more.” He took a pointer and indicated a system that he and Max had discussed previously. “Rather than spreading out in a fan of destruction and then converging back towards our border, what if we spread out and then converged here - at Halstead Station.”
“That’s quite a way from home.” pointed out Kommandant Hickson - promoted after his excellent work on New Dallas.
“It isn’t so far from the Federated Suns though,” noted Regis. “Is that what you have in mind, Colonel Steiner?”
Frederick nodded. “I don’t recall that we’re on bad terms with House Davion - and they hate the Combine as much as we do. Dropping in unannounced would be a bit much, but I imagine that Ian Davion would be delighted to let us cross out of the Combine into his space and then transit back to the Commonwealth via the Northwind-Terra-New Earth corridor. It costs him nothing and helps us quite a bit.”
Regis pursed his lips. “It’s an elegant solution,” he agreed. “But it would require some very discreet diplomacy and that threatens the security of the mission.”
“That’s true,” agreed Fredrick. “There’s always a risk versus reward. I’d not suggest sharing this by HPG - if we do this it should be negotiated with the First Prince by some trusted courier directly. I’m sure he understands the need for security, and it doesn’t benefit him for the Dracs to have a victory against us.”
Hickson grinned boyishly. “Cut right across the Combine? It may not be the Tamar Tigers hitting Luthien again, but it’s going to certainly remind House Kurita that they shouldn’t take us lightly.”
“I’ll have to discuss this with someone higher up in diplomatic circles.” decided Regis. “I like the idea, but I’m not sufficiently familiar with Federated Suns internal politics to know if it’s advisable or not. For now, we’ll plan on the original plan; but we’ll draw up an alternative plan for this exit strategy as well.”
“Who will be carrying out these raids?” Frederick asked him.
“We’re looking at five or six raiding parties with BattleMech forces from the Tenth Skye Rangers and yourselves. Obviously, your conventional assets will be participating but there will be others. The plan would be at least a battalion of ‘Mechs for each raiding party.”
“It seems to me that scouting will be very important here, not something that our ‘Mech forces are notoriously good at.” Frederick said thoughtfully. “Since you’re taking suggestions…”
Regis gave him a rather more dubious look. “Yes?”
“Wasn’t there… yes, that business on Rochelle - there was a merc there who gave us real trouble: Cranston Snord.”
The general looked pained. The invasion of Rochelle hadn’t just had ‘real trouble’, it had failed flatly. “I don’t recall the name…”
“The one Janos Marik tried to cheat. He didn’t just escape across the border to us, he’s got a whole unit and negotiations to sign them up are a tangle.” Frederick clarified.
“Oh yes. He’s on Clinton right now.”
“How about offering him a short-term contract while negotiations are going on?” he suggested. “If he can give us the run-around then let’s put that talent to use against the Combine. He can’t just sit around forever without a contract - he needs income, and it lets us take his measure. He doesn’t need to know about the actual operation until it actually begins, so security is covered.”
Regis made a face. “That’s definitely going to wait until LIC have their say… but if it’s the man I think then he does have credentials. Mind you, he got kicked out of the Wolf Dragoons because he went raiding instead of completing a mission.”
“Raiding would be his duty this time. In fact, the more bizarre his antics, the better. It’ll confuse the Combine.”
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===Max on Duran===
New Naperville, Duran
Protectorate of Donegal, Lyran Commonwealth
9 September 3008
Frederick had kept the letter of his word in not telling Max what the Seventh Lyran Regulars were going to be doing, but he’d also made a point of reviewing everything that they’d written down about the Battle of Halstead Station which would have taken place more than five years from now, so it wasn’t hard for the time-displaced (or mad) man to guess that the Regulars would be going behind Combine lines.
He wished them well, but he freely admitted that his ‘Mech operation was not up to anything of the sort. (He’d have enthusiastically admitted it if needed in order to get out of the raid.). While his Orion was admittedly a potent machine, he would have been a liability against even a Sun Zhang Academy cadre or a planetary militia, never mind the sort of elite force that might be sent after such a daring attacker. Hanse Davion had faced Takashi Kurita and the elite Second Sword of Light, not to mention regiments of the Proserpina Hussars and Dieron Regulars.
No, Max would have been quite happy to stay on Wyatt and keep the hearth fires burning, but that hadn’t satisfied LIC and so he’d got to spend two months on a dropship slowly crossing the Lyran Commonwealth to reach Frederick’s homeworld of Duran.
Like Wyatt, Duran was drier than the Terra (or Earth) that existed in Max’s memories - but there were few other similarities. While Wyatt was a world continent with most of its water locked into the massive glaciers around the poles and only a few, landlocked seas, Duran’s deserts were the result of deep rain-shadows formed by its mountainous terrain. The population was centered around the coasts and the few regions where drainage allowed the existence of considerable agriculture.
Still, it wasn’t a poor world. The population was over half a billion and New Naperville - the planetary capital - sprawled impressively over both sides of the world’s longest river, just above the delta formed where the River Nyal flowed into the sea. Massive flood defenses doubled as fortifications, though according to Frederick’s own account they’d never really been tested in that fashion.
“I trust that you’ll be comfortable here.” Brian Sebastian, a long-time family retainer of House Steiner, ushered Max into a rather palatial penthouse in one of the capital’s skyscrapers.
“It’s… really more than I was expecting.” Usually when traveling with Frederick, he got the equivalent of a middling hotel room. This was more than four hundred square meters, with floor-to-ceiling windows in every direction - looking out onto a rooftop garden.
Brian smiled and stroked his graying pencil-mustache. “You represent our duke, Herr Mustermann, and you come with his highest regards. Short of his personal rooms here, you have the full use of everything in the townhouse. The staff will see to your every need - anything less would be disrespectful to his grace’s express commands.”
“Uh… great?”
The butler - or whatever his title was - lifted Max’s bag. “I understand that you’ve been traveling light. Your clothes will be laundered and ready by tomorrow and if I may suggest, we can call in a tailor to take care of any gaps in your wardrobe. There have been a number of invitations, and while I wouldn’t presume to advise which are appropriate for his grace’s instructions to you, it has been several years since has been home. The chance to speak to someone with his ear is an appealing one to many in Duran’s government and high society.”
Max bit back some words that he felt were appropriate to that situation. He was used to managing that for Frederick, not for his own sake. “I guess I have some research to do. And as for traveling light, I do have almost seventy tons of ‘mech downstairs.” The Orion, strapped down on a flatbed, was parked in a secure section of the skyscraper’s subterranean parking lot.
“Yes sir. His grace advised that you are still undergoing training. While the city is not ideal for such activities, we can arrange access to the militia grounds or with a little more time there is the estate at Quwansner which is fully equipped for the purpose. I was honored to assist the late duchess in his grace’s education in that field and he has asked that I extend the same offer to you.”
It took Max a moment to parse Brian’s words. “He hadn’t mentioned that offer,” he said slowly, eyeing the man. While he’d taken the erect stature as merely whatever was considered locally normal for a noble household’s senior retainer, now that he looked at it, Brian Sebastian was also standing in exactly the way he’d seen some of the senior NCOs in the Seventh Lyran Regulars. “You knew Duchess Sophia well?”
Brian smiled thinly. “I spent fourteen years with the First Royal Guards, Sir. His late highness Archon Alessandro personally recommended me to her when she was granted the ducal title of Duran and I headed her security and then her household until her death. It was a privilege - her grace was taken from us far too soon.”
“I only know her through her children. Both strike me as remarkable, which… reflects well on her.”
“One’s children are one’s legacy,” the older man agreed mildly. “The birth of her first grandson was a happy day, we are all hoping that the duke will also provide for the future of the Steiner dynasty.”
“Do you have the invitations?” Max asked, deciding to ignore that the other man was expressly planning to unpack his bag for him. The only things that were in any way security sensitive were in his attaché case, and the small computer core stowed behind the seat of his Orion. That wasn’t enough to contain everything from the New Dallas core but it had a choice selection and several shipments had been discreetly sent over the last few months that should mean there were back-ups already on planet with most of the core’s contents.
One of Max’s tasks here was to hide them away so that at least one copy would survive attempts to deprive House Steiner of the data. It was entirely probable that Brian Sebastian or someone else on Frederick’s staff here had been charged with doing the same since if Max didn’t know where all the back-ups were, he couldn’t betray their location if interrogated.
Max had lost a couple of night’s sleep over the prospect of certain intelligence agencies grabbing him and doing whatever they felt necessary to get hold of Frederick’s secrets. But you could get used to almost anything and so far, he didn’t think anyone had actually realized what had been brought off New Dallas beyond the obvious hardware.
That might change once Bowie started building Archers again - or any of the other projects that were being quietly set in motion with limited copies of specific files from the core. But that was a problem for the future.
“One of the offices has been set up for you,” Brian informed Max, ushering the balding man down a corridor. “We can switch to another if you prefer, but we’ve put the paperwork there until you could express your preferences.”
“I’m sure it will be fine.”
The butler opened the door into a lushly appointed study and Max looked around for the door into whatever side office he’d been assigned. He didn’t need much, really. Two or three square meters was enough for a desk, a chair and a computer terminal. And he could do without the computer terminal if necessary.
However, Brian simply gestured towards the desk, where the in-tray - of nicely carved wood rather than plastic - held letters, data chips and the other hallmarks of Max’s usual workload. “The duke’s office is across the hall, but that’s locked at the moment.” he explained.
Oh. This was the side-office. Mind-boggling. In the abstract, Max knew that Frederick was rich - he’d seen some of the numbers. He hadn’t really understood it until now, he realized. And it was possible that he was still underestimating the scale of how that affected one’s lifestyle.
“I see. Thank you.” He checked the tray and found that the invitations were held in one bulging folder with a summary list on the front. Many of the names meant little to him but two were marked as executives at Rastaban Agricultural. The corporation’s headquarters were on the world it was named from, but their factory on Duran was one of the planet’s major manufacturers, building agro-mechs that were exported to neighboring worlds.
That ticked off one of the most important groups to make contact with.
Max was about to ask about the other group to have that degree of prominence on the list - Duran Agricultural and Mechanical college, the largest and most important school on the planet - when he saw his name on a second envelope.
“I’d probably better look at getting some ‘mech practice sooner rather than later. There wasn’t much chance on the dropship.” he admitted, opening the envelope and spilling the contents out. “What would be… fine for your schedule?” There were several papers and an identity card.
Brian smiled, perhaps more ominously than before. “I am happy to be available at whatever time you prefer, Sir. We can have your ‘Mech at the militia base tomorrow morning if you would like.”
I’d better get the data core out of it first. How to get that here quietly…? Max flipped over the card and saw that it had his face and name on it. A replacement for his residency card? Did he need a different one here on Duran - he hadn’t on Wyatt…
On closer examination though, there were differences. For one, this had a citizenship number.
He looked up and Brian’s expression was bland. “I understand that the Duke of Summer’s administration was less than open to your citizenship application. Duke Frederick was quite clear that there would be no such problem here, given your services - past, present and future - to the Commonwealth.”
Max sat down heavily in the chair behind the desk. “He seems to have thought of everything.”
“We try, sir.”
“I have something in my ‘mech that will need secure storage.” There was no point trying to sneak around Brian, Max decided. Frederick and his family trusted the man, it was better to lean on that than to try and almost certainly fail to get around him. “It’d be best if it could be brought upstairs without drawing attention…”
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===Raid Force on Al Na'ir===
Scarborough Manufacturers, Al Na’ir
Dieron District, Draconis Combine
11 November 3008
Al Na’ir was a heavily guarded star system and hitting it with only five companies of ‘Mechs was something of a risk. As a mark of its industrial importance, two regiments of the Dieron Regulars were stationed here.
But as Frederick marched his Zeus quickly towards the Scarborough Manufacturing factory, he was tempted towards optimism.
“What are we seeing?” he demanded of the scout company moving ahead of his force. The LTV-4 Hovertanks had blasted through the skirmish screen of the Fifteenth Dieron Regulars - a mix of Jenners, Panthers, and smaller light ‘Mechs quite unable to match the firepower of almost three times their number of ‘Mechs - most of them heavy and medium designs - following the fast moving and well-armed hovertanks.
“Two more companies of ‘Mechs are moving out,” the report came back. “What’s left of their light company is trying to regroup with them but they’re in no fit state.”
“Good work, keep going for the goal,” Frederick ordered.
“I’m surprised they only have a single battalion here,” Hauptmann Percy Thomas commented, his Banshee loping at the head of the inverted V-formation of his company, half a kilometer to Frederick’s left.
There were a few minutes before the engagement, the Colonel concluded. Enough time to educate a junior officer - as Kommandant Hickson was hopefully learning from the experienced mercenary that he was accompanying - Frederick had given the young battalion commander a choice between leading this attack or observing Cranston Snord’s tactics. Hickson had had the maturity to take the chance, rather than clinging to his immediate command.
Not that Frederick was making a habit of taking over an individual battalion, this was the first raid he’d switched in like this - otherwise he’d kept the force mostly concentrated, not hitting a pair of targets.
“One battalion of the Fifteenth Dieron Regulars is on Nashira, according to LIC - in response to our raids. And at least one company was reported as raiding into the Federated Suns before we entered the Commonwealth. They may have been caught there or otherwise delayed in returning,” he speculated out loud. “Just because two regiments are stationed here, not all are necessarily going to be present.”
“What about the Eighth Dieron Regulars, sir?”
The Eighth Dieron Regulars were the other half of the garrison, and while the Lyran Regulars were a relatively unpretentious part of the Lyran Commonwealth Armed Forces, the Regular brigades of each Combine District were the backbone of the Draconis Combine Mustered Soldiery, equivalent of the Donegal Guards, Arcturan Guards, and Lyran Guards. The Eighth Dieron Regulars were an experienced unit with a very good reputation.
“That’s less certain - we know one battalion is stationed at Yori MechWorks factory in the asteroid belt, but we don’t know if other elements are off-world.”
“Sir, that means Kommandant Hickson and Captain Snord might be outnumbered two to one.”
“That’s the risk they’re running,” Frederick agreed. “But without them, we could be facing three battalions right now, rather than just one. Let’s finish this quickly before the Eighth can pin Snord down.”
That should be much harder than it sounded. By all accounts from Rochelle, as well as Max’s accounts, Cranston Snord was as slippery as a Duran mercat in swamp-water.
“‘Mechs in sight, I’m seeing serious metal!” called Leutnant Jan Tiercel from Frederick’s own command company.
That was unfortunately also not a surprise. “All units, dump your BattleROMs back to the dropships once you see the enemy!” Frederick reminded them.
A moment later he was out of the rugged folds of land that the thirty-four Lyran ‘mechs had used to get close to their objective. With one hand he hit the switches on his communications console and the computers around him whined as encoded data was pumped out of his radio, letting those with the right codes pick up everything about the engagement so far from his Zeus’ perspective.
With the other he brought his crosshairs across a white-painted Victor - a ‘Mech the same size as his Zeus but optimized for brutal close-range engagements - and salvoed long range missiles at it.
The two companies of Dieron Regulars were in their parade colors - they’d really not expected this attack. But that only made it more obvious how heavy they were. The lightest ‘Mech Frederick saw was an Archer, and there were no less than five of the skull-faced Atlas ‘mechs that were the largest ‘Mechs still in production across the Inner Sphere.
The Dieron Regulars were rated as having one of the highest average ‘mech tonnages in the entire DCMS. And this commander had concentrated his lighter ‘Mechs into one company to use as spotting hounds for the rest of the battalion.
“Blake’s Beard, I’m not used to being on this side of a tonnage disparity!” Hauptmann Thomas’ PPC blazed, punching lightning into the chest of one of the Atlases. Other than scorched paint, the behemoth barely seemed concerned about the impact.
“Then let’s slim them down! Magnum-Actual, this is Tiger-Actual. Fire when ready.” Frederick called out.
“Tiger-Actual, I confirm we are weapons free.”
Frederick kept his crosshairs over the Victor, hammering it again with his missiles and adding his autocannon. Unlike the larger and slower Atlas, his target was showing visible armor damage, but it would take more than that to stop it. Shortly they’d be in range for Frederick to bring his large laser into use, at that point he’d have to start worrying about heat.
For now, he could fire on the ‘Mech with impunity - the Victor couldn’t even hope to hit him yet. With more than thirty targets to pick from, the Dieron Regulars were picking out individual targets rather than concentrating their fire. That cost a Warhammer because Jan Tiercel’s fire support lance opened up on it with all four of their Archers. A hundred and sixty LRMs brutalized the ‘Mech’s armor (as well as tearing up the ground around it as some of the missiles went astray).
“I’m legged!” one of the Lyran Regular’s Commando pilots exclaimed. The light ‘Mech had been trying to avoid fire - it lacked the reach to fight back just yet, but it had been unlucky enough to be targeted by a DCMS Stalker who was lucky enough or skilled enough to focus multiple flights of LRMs.
Crippled and limping, the Commando tried to get away. Frederick shifted his targeting to the Stalker. However, the lumbering ‘Mech wasn’t going to be seriously threatened yet and knew the advantage of reducing enemy numbers. The Commando pilot ejected a moment before thirty LRMs ripped into the light ‘mech and several of them blew the damaged leg in two.
Frederick’s missiles cratered dorsal plating on the Stalker, but the detonations were utterly dwarfed as far more deadly projectiles landed.
With a sound like thunder, more than thirty artillery shells crashed down amid the Dieron Regulars’ formation, spreading circles of devastating shrapnel scores of meters across.
The Warhammer earlier had already been missing an arm. Now it simply blew apart as explosions behind it ripped it open and reached the stored munitions inside it. A Charger was spared the same fate on because it lacked any ammunition - but it staggered out of the firestorm with both arms limp and evidently under no control as the shoulders were savaged wrecks.
Few of the other Dieron Regulars were that badly damaged, but almost all of them had armor scarred and damaged. A single salvo of Magnum battalion - the artillery element of the Seventh Lyran Regulars’ combat support regiment - had done more damage than all the weapons fire of the ‘Mechs.
And then as Frederick switched his fire back to the Victor, which was blackened and scarred but advancing determinedly, more shells came down.
And then another salvo.
When the detonations finished, the Victor was on its knees - as if the Mechwarrior inside had thrown it into seiza. However, Frederick seriously doubted if it could stand up. Over a hundred artillery shells from the Apostle self-propelled guns had done serious damage to the bunched up DCMS ‘Mechs.
However, they weren’t all in that desperate shape. Despite the battering, the nineteen remaining ‘mechs were spreading out to be a harder target for the artillery.
They were also falling back. A more reckless unit might have pressed the attack to close in but that would have forced a decisive engagement they might have lost.
“Magnum, cease fire,” Frederick ordered. “All ‘Mechs, stay at long range. If you don’t have the reach for that then back off out of their range and cover our rear. The militia are probably well supplied with hovertanks.” Besides the ‘Mech factory out in the asteroids, Al Na’ir was home to the hovertank factory that was the target of Fredericks raid.
“We can run them down,” Thomas recommended eagerly.
Frederick grunted. “No, it’d be too costly.” He’d only just got the Seventh Lyran Regulars up to strength and killing off the other half of this battalion could cost him half of this one. “Switchblade-Actual, we’ve got the Regulars’ battalion on the backfoot. How are you doing?”
“Tiger-Actual,” the woman replied promptly. “It’s smooth as silk, there’s almost fifty hovertanks waiting for shipment here and we got here before anyone managed to crew them. We should have them all out of here and heading back for the dropships in under twenty minutes - it’d be faster, but we had to fuel them.”
“Understood.” Frederick switched channels. “Wildcat, this is Tiger-Actual. What’s your situation?”
“This is Wildcat-Actual.” Hickson sounded uncertain. “I don’t think the Eighth are going to catch us, which is probably a good thing. Snord has them frothing at the mouth to judge by what they’re sending on the open channels.”
“Whatever works. Tell him you can start pulling out - they’re too far away to intercept us now. We have what we came for and we’ll be heading for our own dropships in thirty minutes.” He increased Switchblade-Actual’s estimate by fifty percent - it was better to be pessimistic about such things in his experience.
“Understood, sir.”
Frederick closed the channel. This had been a very successful raid. Only two ‘Mechs disabled - three now. And if they managed to drag the crippled Commando and the fallen Victor back to the dropships then they’d only be one ‘Mech down once repairs were done.
But there was one jump to go before he reached the target he was really after. Greed could get us into a lot of trouble, he thought. But I want this now - and after so many successes I doubt anyone in the DCMS would expect us to keep going. Hell, how am I going to get fifty extra hovertanks aboard the Retribution?
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