TEP Chpt 13

=The Eagle's Perch=
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==Chapter 13 - Arrears==
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===Cutting a Deal with the Devil===
Kiyev - Oriente, Free Worlds League
2732 AD
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Johnson Johanson Halas Junior
I felt the silence of the room like the coming of the executioner. Boris Marik stared at me with a blank face that gave nothing away. Yet, its weight was suffocating. The ticking of the grandfather clock marked the seconds as they passed by. Finally, he spoke.
 
"Perhaps there is something that can be done. But, in return, I require something from you." His voice was perfectly even and polite. There wasn't a hint of what he wanted, that could be worth the price of my erstwhile son.
 
"Later, I'll have you seal the deal in writing. But for now, I need from you two things. The first, is a favor to be repaid at a later date. No questions asked."
 
"Acceptable." I replied.
 
"The second, is your support. Later, I have a meeting with Alice. I'm sure you can figure out what for."
 
A favor to do anything to be paid sometime in the future, and my support possibly against Allison. Not nearly as terrible as I feared. Actually, it's damned cheap. Sorry, Allison. Family comes first. I'm sure you would understand.
 
A weight lifted from my chest. My son was safe. "You've got my word," I finalized the deal. At the very least, I won't regret this as much as when Rani died.
 
The devil smiled back at me, cordial and polite. "Excellent," he softly said.
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===Burning for the Drop Zone===
Keeling, Principality of Regulus
Free Worlds League
November 11th, 2732
Three years into this blasted war and I have never been more delighted and anxious.
 
The Anti-Spinward had exploded into an orgy of violence. The World-Provinces of the League's galactic West paraded reports of raiders attacking anything and everything up and down the Bolan run.
 
The most powerful of the minor loyalist provinces had to pull away their contributions to shore up their own defenses. DropShip Fleets and BattleMech Regiments I should have fought disappeared like morning dew. The quiet, untroubled front was now a font of worry.
 
Not to be outdone, I've assigned myself the small task to disjunct the Principality of Regulus as a contributing member to the loyalist cause.
 
Keeling was a minor world in the Principality of Regulus. The world did have some robust industries centered around consumables, such as food, water, ammunition, and protium. It was otherwise unremarkable, save for two things:
 
The first, was that it was the base of the Star League Defense Forces' XXVI Corps, who were mostly famous for efficiently putting down riots. They have left the base, to support SLDF operations in the War of Davion Succession.
 
The second, was that it was home to Keeling Finance and Consultancy Corp. A private equity that's been a pain in my stakeholders' ass for three whole years, and one of many beneficiaries of Regulus' manifold pension funds and endowments. To service the needs of the Principality's financial sector, literal billions of Star League Dollars went through the servers of their Headquarters.
 
Normally, that alone would not have been enough to warrant my Defenders' attention. No. What actually warranted our attention was that the KF&C Corp was a private equity firm that specialized in the defense industries. They had a slice of every pie as investor and investee, including but not limited to consumables, financial services, telecommunications, BattleMech parts, healthcare, and warehouse exosuits.
 
If something were to happen to them, well that would just cause all sorts of chaos for Regulus and the wider loyalist cause. It would be such a shame if Regulan defense corporations were unable to rally the necessary private financing to expand their factory lines, pay their debts, or stave off bankruptcy. It might put undue pressure on the finances of the loyalist administration.
 
A terrible shame.
 
"Three minutes until High-Speed Pass."
 
I observed the CIC of one of my combat DropShips. Standing off and away from the bustle of duty, I took the moment to appreciate the works the peculiar sailors of the navy wrought. Naval warfare differed drastically from planetary warfare. With nearly everything visible to sensors, Navy battles were won and lost primarily through thought and equipment. Out-thinking the enemy meant out-killing the enemy. Except for a few instances.
 
A token fleet was left behind, six combat DropShips in total. We knew there were more, at least enough for a brigade or two. But, they were fighting smart, just as I did. The BattleMech brigade's transports priority was to transport the BattleMech brigade. They couldn't be thoughtlessly risked. So these brave six challenged a mighty fleet on their lonesome, intent on throwing aside thought and betting everything on their equipment and nerve.
 
The High-Speed Pass was the one exception everyone knew. The only naval stratagem where thought mattered little, and the hardiness of your morale and ship carried the day. In this era of Modern Warfare, this was an unexpected call back to the Age of Sail. An age of Wooden Ships and Iron Men, when inadequate craft were dragged forward to victory by the sheer gall of her stalwart men.
 
The enemy flotilla stood lonesome in the Black with their backs against Keeling. The hologram showing the stark odds against them, their little pins against an entire fleet of mine. They had more, of course. Two more flotillas fled for their JumpShips at the nadir of the system, placing Keeling between us and them.
 
I approve of the gallantry of this magnificent six. Outnumbered mightily, they still aimed their ships at the heart of my fleet, where my JumpShips and I reside. They intended to fight through my entire fleet, and aide the wider war effort by delaying us with the damage or destruction of my JumpShips.
 
The first wave of combat began as our DropShips sailed out against each other, their fusion torches reaching across the Black as tongues of fire.
 
At the three-minute mark, the first of my combat DropShips made contact with the enemy. The sheer speed of their approach savaged the two sides. Both were only just operational, but mine had to desperately fight their momentum so they could flip and burn, to avoid shooting out of the system. The six? Though wounded, they kept speed, aimed directly at me.
 
The second wave crashed upon them. Another high-speed pass, and that was all the six could manage. Now they were either listlessly floating wreckage or spinning out of control. The inevitable conclusion of all high-speed passes.
 
I had seen what I came to see. Content, I left for the bridge to meet with my Commodore.
 
"Send someone to rescue them. Or put them out of their misery," I commanded Cdre. Rose. It was always regrettable to lose such fine warriors to mercy killings, but sometimes fate simply gives no choice.
 
"Already done, sir," he replied swiftly. "I've also commanded the fleet to start torching their protium refueling space-depots."
 
Later, I'll break out the fine whiskey, and offer a glass in memory of the gallant dead.
 
"Excellent! With that sorted, let us begin landing operations."
 
As we arrived in orbit, the battle picture became much clearer. There were two brigades, a single notable city, a full DropPort beside the city, and very little else.
 
We outnumbered the enemy two to one. My four Defenders of Andurien to their two Atrean Dragoons. Normally that would be a cause for good cheer, but it was quickly soured by how they dug themselves into the capital, Keeling City.
 
We could not simply assault their position, the casualties would be monstrous. Alas, I had to resort to the great shame of modern warfare, and orbitally bombard them. When I gave the order, DropShips across the fleet launched kinetic missiles specifically for this situation. We avoided the DropPort, because we wanted those facilities for ourselves. The collateral damage was still tremendous.
 
The smallest, the 100 tonne bomb, left gaping craters where they landed. Though, their accuracy and precision of such weapons left much to be desired. At the very least, the upper levels of the KF&C HQ were destroyed. Another round ought to do the trick, then I can have a brigade pick through the ruins.
 
Unexpectedly, return fire rose from the planet. A dozen capital missiles fired from hidden launch points across the planet lit up the holotank. I counted at least eight rising from outside the city.
 
"All hands brace for evasive maneuvers! One minute!"
 
The limitations of my naval experience showed. I had not planned for this, so my crew and I were up and about, floating through the DropShip as we carried out our tasks. We threw ourselves in the direction of the crash and jump seats, and hastily strapped ourselves in. My hands fumbled with the belt before I locked it in tight. Remembering my training, I straightened my spine against the chair's back.
 
Good thing too, I was roughly shoved into the jump seat as the sudden movements forcefully introduced gravity to an environment without one. My vessel hidden deep within the fleet was safe, but only if the outer shell held.
 
"Enemy barracudas, ETA five minutes, Commodore," the second in command called out.
 
"Very well, Captain Jerelena. Have the fleet accelerate to two and a half gees to the planet's superior posterior. Once there, flip and burn handsomely." Radford coolly ordered. "I'm sorry, sir, but we'll have to give the city a wide berth and land you further afield."
 
"Nothing to be done about it, old boy. The enemy also gets a vote," I replied. Not that this change of plans would have made much of a difference. We were always going to close with the enemy. The only question was what state they would be in.
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===Suspicious Moves===
An hour later, my BattleMechs landed. We burst out from our DropShips racing through the torched black prairie to the closest objectives. The launch points were either mobile structures or immobile missile silos. And mobile structures were prohibitively expensive. My target was the closest by conventional travel to Keeling City. We were going to raise a ruckus to see what kind of warm welcome we would receive.
 
As my regiment crested the hills to our first objective, our suspicions were proven correct. Four thick ferrocrete walls topped with eight turrets facing all major cardinal directions met our eyes. The facility itself stretched out at least one hundred and fifty kilometers wide. There was no mobile element to greet us, so the defenders must be further inside.
 
"Regiment halt!" I shouted over my regimental command net. "Alpha Charlie, this is Papa Actual. Request Hammer. Grid Coords 88941482. Over."
 
"Papa Actual, this is Alpha Charlie, solid copy. Hammer in bound. Set one-eighty. That is one, eight, zero. Out."
 
Three minutes later, two lances of Rievers carried out a bombing run. The anti-air fire was furious, lasers and tracers sketching bright lines across the blue sky. A few even tagged the Rievers, but try as they might, the Rievers completed their mission and flew on. In the wake of their exit, tremendous explosions rocked the world. There was a hole in the wall big enough for my entire regiment.
 
"Beta company lead the way!" I roared out.
 
We charged in. The Heavy Company led the way. It was good I did so. Inside, we were ambushed by a token resistance of three companies of Bulldog tanks and a lance of Thumpers artillery vehicles. There wasn't even infantry to shoot us in our backs.
 
This was suspicious. Highly suspicious. Three companies of tanks and a lance of artillery was something you used on the far flanks, against other vehicles. As engineering WorkMechs arrived to tear open the silos, I relayed my thoughts to the rest of my commanders.
 
"While I wouldn't call three companies a token force, I still agree this is iffy," concurred Ana. "My own regiment hit a silo ourselves but found it empty. No one inside."
 
"We faced heavier resistance, but they were a company of lights supported by a few more companies of vees," interjected Rachel.
 
"How long did they stand and fight?" I asked.
 
"Not long at all. Maybe five minutes before they left in a hurry," she answered.
 
"And you, Michael?" I queried my most junior commander.
 
"We're still on the march. No contacts to report, sir." Michael was given what we thought was the easiest target. The most isolated and furthest away objective from Keeling city. Even so, someone should be shooting at him by now.
 
"Was our quarry in the process of leaving?" asked Sudeesh. That was a good question. Although we found battle in the shadow of the silos walls, there wasn't anything about it that suggested competently organized resistance. The lance of cold Thumpers was a rather large hint.
 
As I was about to voice my answer, Janice interrupted our tête-à-tête, <<"Papa Actual this is Alpha Charlie. Be advised, the enemy has fired a second and third wave of anti-ship missiles at the fleet. They have been forced away. Break. Enemy drive signatures detected at the Door. They are leaving the nadir of the system.">>
 
We left those JumpShips untouched to preserve our naval assets resources, and to have them waste valuable time hoping to rescue their planetside companions. If the Atrean Dragoons, the elite of the Federal militia, were to flee from a raid in progress and leave my ships untouched, I wasn't going to stop them.
 
But that still left the question of why.
 
"Sudeesh, finish the mission. I need to talk with my people upstairs."
 
"Yes, sir!"
 
As my brother Martin always says, 'The strategic takes precedence over the tactical'. Whatever was happening, it was moving units of a strategic scale.
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===World on Fire===
The planet I did not plan on conquering was conquered. With the departure of the Atrean Dragoons, the local government immediately called for terms, giving up without a fight. Frustratingly, I had to honor it, leaving my original objective of demolishing KF&C Corp half-finished.
 
Now I hear rumors of a rebel campaign to Atreus. How the Third Fleet and the majority of the Second were pressing the line of the Marik-Oriente border, and the disappearance of both Boris, Alice Allison and Oriente's Fleet.
 
A bold move. The Avalanche Strategy in dealing with debts was also broadly similar to in war. Take out the largest and most troublesome, the one that will deal the most damage in the long run, first. Then, deal with the lesser rabble.
 
However, that wasn't enough to cause the Atrean Dragoons to fly away with the solar winds. The rumors were at least a month old, that time delay is enough for groundbreaking events to take place with me unaware. Campaigning for years, raiding into the heart of a major enemy province left me little in the way of up-to-date information, and I don't have the resources to establish an intelligence arm inside Regulus.
 
So what the hell is happening.
 
My office door burst open as Michael crashed into my office. "Sir! You need to turn on the news! Now!"
 
Not hesitating I grabbed my remote and turned my antique television on.
 
I couldn't believe my eyes.
 
Regulus was burning. The view from the grav dock gave the perfect angle of what looked like half of the 2nd Fleet, pumping round after round of naval autocannon planetside. Great clouds of ASF buzzed angrily across orbit, clouding the planet underneath their shadow.
 
Beneath the haze of machines, below the cloak of their might, small tongues of fire dove planetside, aimed at Regulus City itself.
"When?" I whispered.
 
Beneath the moving pictures, the news ticker answered me. Day two of Boris Marik's assault on Regulus IV.
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