FSML-3 Chpt 5

=Chapter 5=
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==Frederick Steiner and the Man Who Knew Too LittleBook 3==
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===Supply Chain Issues===
Shore of the Shallow Sea, Zosma
Border Protectorate, Free Worlds League
March 8th, 3024
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“We have an ID on the inbound forces, sir.”
Frederick sat up from where he’d been resting his eyes at the back of the command van. Not napping - the difference was that if he was going to do that he’d go somewhere his snoring wouldn’t disturb the men at work. Sleeping when he could was a long practiced habit on campaign but eyestrain was a new issue. Maybe the holotank in the van needed tuning, he thought. Some of his staff had been rubbing their eyes a lot and it was a new unit.
“Talk to me.” he grunted as he shuffled past two of the techs to look over the shoulder of the man at the aerospace ‘desk’ (actually a console built into one wall of the van).
The man indicated a still shot of two DropShips, poor quality and blurry. “A recon flight got close enough to take this.” He tapped a control and brought up a second image. “Markings match and there’s a disabled autocannon turret on this Overlord. Unless someone’s deliberately faking that, it’s the same DropShip.”
“And that would be…?” Frederick led him.
“Ah, sorry sir.” The man must have been tired. “It’s Smithson’s Chinese Bandits.”
“Could be worse,” Frederick thought. Hansen’s Roughriders had been sent to take over the work of garrisoning Oliver, something that was well within their capabilities now that the Twenty-Fifth Marik Militia had been bottled up on just one of the planet’s three continents. That had let Frederick shift focus to Alula Australis and then push on to Zosma with the Eleventh Lyran Regulars and the Commonwealth Jaegers. Given the enthusiasm for the removal of the provincial government by those they had ruled, the Thirty-Second Lyran Guards weren’t going to need much longer to finish mopping up resistance on Alula Australis.
That made Zosma the critical point of the campaign - the Iron Guard and Steel Guard regiments were clinging to the last world of the Border Protectorate and the numbers were about even. The Chinese Bandits were mercs, a regiment that had fought for Janos Marik against his brother and more recently had been under contract with House Davion. Their arrival on Zosma would swing the balance of numbers against Frederick’s offensive, but not disastrously.
“Good work. When did you last get any sleep, Son?” he asked the tech.
“I caught some zees yesterday, sir.”
Frederick patted his shoulder. “Make sure you get a good six-to-eight. We might be running ragged until the Red Arrows arrive.”
The general went over to his own seat and started drafting instructions to the Jaegers. It was pretty much guaranteed that the Protectorate Guards would push for a counter-offensive as soon as the Bandits tipped the numbers back in their favor. While the Eleventh Regulars could stall that, he’d need the Jaegers’ mobility to prop up the tanks and infantry so that they could prevent the League from bringing their ‘Mechs fully to bear.
That meant less raiding and it would let the Protectorate get their defenses back in order, but that was inevitable. And while the forces were slowing him down, they weren’t reinforcing the Sirians. That was good for the alliance.
“Sir?”
He looked up at the questioning tone and saw Kommandant Clark Alexander, his supply officer, had entered the command van. Usually the bearded officer occupied his own van, tackling the complex logistics of the task force. “Ah, I was going to visit you shortly,” he admitted. “Is something wrong?”
“It could be better, Sir.” Alexander glanced around. “This is probably best discussed privately.”
Frederick could almost imagine Max muttering, ‘Well, that wasn’t ominous.’ Alexander wouldn’t be asking for privacy if he was delivering good news. “Alright, let’s step outside.”
It was late winter on Zosma - at least in this hemisphere - but it was still hot and dry. The planet wasn’t any great prize - two small oceans on a world continent, with large rocky deserts dotted with mining sites old and new. Frequent earthquakes and other volcanic activity allegedly brought fresh mineral wealth to the surface, or that was what the summaries had claimed. It sounded fishy to Frederick, but he wasn’t a geologist.
“What’s on your mind, Kommandant?” he asked.
Alexander folded his arms defensively. “Our next supply shipment is only going to be around sixty percent of our requests in some categories.”
Biting back the urge to snap at the man, Frederick gave him a searching look and made a ‘go on’ gesture.
“We’re getting the armor and munitions, but Wyatt report they’re low on spare parts our techs need for various repairs. It’s going to mean some ‘mechs and tanks won’t be fully operational until at least the next shipment, and putting salvaged gear back into service will be significantly impaired.”
Frederick hissed between his teeth. That was definitely not going to do morale good. “Is that the only category?”
“A little lower on medical supplies than I like, but we’re not low in that regard. And if we don’t hang on to the diesel refinery, they warned that it’ll be a month until they can send a tanker DropShip.”
Shipping fuel interstellar wasn’t really very efficient, Frederick noted. Sometimes it was necessary, but thankfully the Pattons and Rommels Heavy Tanks that made up the bulk of his armored punch had fusion reactors. “What happened, did the parts get shipped to Tamar?” As little as he liked losing supplies, he’d not begrudge them to Nondi Steiner. The LCAF was barely clinging to Laurent and, while Tamar was holding well against Warlord Samsonov, if Theodore Kurita cut the supply lines through Laurent the situation would be dire.
But Alexander shook his head. “Colonel Ridzik requested use of some of our stores, sir.”
“Ridzik?!” Frederick clenched his teeth. “That…” He forced himself not to curse out the Capellan in front of Alexander. Privacy only went so far. “Doesn’t he have his own supplies?”
“For most things, yes. I believe he’s primarily requested parts for designs that the Capellan Confederation no longer builds.” The supply officer shook his head. “Shadow Hawks, for example. They’re fielded by everyone, but there are only a couple of places that build them. My guess is that either the Capellans are also building fewer parts for them that we thought.”
“That or someone in the Capellan supply chain is shorting him.” I don’t know enough about Capellan service politics, Frederick thought. Ridzik’s ambitious - Max said he seduced the Chancellor’s wife and was considering a coup a few years from now. Or maybe I’m overthinking it: Ridzik might not need the parts, he just wants them. “Who authorized the shipment? It’s hard enough to get supplies for us at times, and we’re in the same service. How did Ridzik manage it?” A stern letter to whoever authorized it might prevent any repetition.
The supply officer shrugged. “The orders to release supplies to him came from the top.”
“Mount Asgard?”, Frederick asked
“No sir. The very top.”
Frederick felt a chill. Katrina and he had their differences, but for her to stint her own soldiers… Max may be onto something. The message he’d received was short - it had to be to get past ComStar - but the suggestion that Katrina might have been replaced was nightmarish.
For a moment, Frederick considered withdrawing from Zosma and heading for Skye. If he confronted Katrina… but there was no evidence. And yielding the initiative to the FWLM would let them unravel all the progress made - abandoning people who’d accepted Lyran citizenship and his offers of protection from the provincial authorities. And the CCAF offensive would be left hanging, which might not be his first concern but if Max was wrong he could be offending the only ally that the Lyran Commonwealth had right now, just as Marik and Kurita were acting in concert.
One step at a time, he thought and forced himself to take long, slow breaths.
“Alright, there’s nothing we can do about that,” he decided. “Look at sending salvage we can’t repair back home in supply ships - they may be able to do more on Wyatt than we can here and it at least frees up techs for handling ongoing battle damage. Munitions and armor are the biggest users and we’re not being shorted there?” The lifeblood of any campaign, if those ran out then he’d have no choice but to retreat.
“No sir,” Alexander confirmed. “At least so far, that’s coming through.”
“That’ll do for now. However, I don’t think we should let Colonel Ridzik think that he can have things all his own way.” Frederick rubbed at the scar on his forehead. “The Capellans do build some things we don’t, right?”
“Yes sir. The Vindicator, for example.”
“Right, they’re pretty restrictive on exporting spare parts for those.” It wasn’t quite the Company Store approach, that mercs detested, but mercenary units which had salvaged Vindicators or been given the mechs as compensation for losses generally found themselves needing to strike sharp bargains with Capellan authorities or have the parts custom-made at a sharp mark-up in cost. Frederick remembered a few years ago that a merc unit departing Lyran space had received barely functional Vindicators as the replacements they were entitled to under their contract - getting the units off LCAF inventory but essentially forcing the company to sign up with the Capellans just to get their ‘new’ ‘mechs working.
“Notoriously so, sir. And while they’re not the only source of parts for the Locust or the Wolverine, we don’t build those domestically.”
“Alright, Alexander. Get in touch with some of your colleagues and get a feel for how many ‘mechs and tanks are sitting around in militia hands, needing repairs, that the Capellans could provide parts for when we can’t. And then write up a request to Ridzik that the Capellans match our generosity by providing those parts. I’ll sign it and we’ll forward it to him and to the Chancellor and Archon. If they come up with those parts, at least we’re getting paid for supporting the offensive. If not, it should at least let us know that the Capellans aren’t going to hold up their end of the alliance.”
Alexander nodded. “It may take a week or two just to get numbers together, via HPG.”
“It’s not as if we’ll get those supplies soon anyway. It’ll let Ridzik know we’re not a soft touch though, and that’s the best we can get out of this.” Frederick rubbed his eyes and looked around the headquarter encampment. The were getting pretty dug in - better relocate before Marik figures out where I am and sends headhunters, he thought. “How are we holding up otherwise?”
“Pretty well, Sir. We’re sourcing locally for food and quality of life goods. Checking them for sabotage is a pain, but it’s saving us space in shipping and putting money into the local economy isn’t hurting relations.”
“Good. We’re going to be fighting here for a while, so good relations are going to be important.” Most border worlds had changed hands a few times - the Border Protectorate had effectively been carved out of worlds gained from the Lyran Commonwealth over the Third Succession War so it was no wonder they functioned as a provincial army that happened to have a civilian population attached.
Frederick saluted Alexander - improper protocol, but good for morale. “Thank you for telling me this, Kommandant. And thank you for your hard work. Enjoy the usual reward for a job well done.”
The junior officer returned the salute. “Yes, Sir.”
They headed back to their respective vans and their respective wars, Frederick musing that adding allies to a war really did add a third front to the fighting - now there were two high commands out to get you, besides the actual enemy.
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===Liberation of a Prisoner===
The Triad, Tharkad
Protectorate of Donegal, Lyran Commonwealth
March 13th, 3024
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The sound of the door being unlocked broke Ardan out of his rhythm. He’d no reference for time but his own activities, but he was sure it couldn’t be that long since his last meal. He’d established a routine of exercise to follow from each time he was fed, not wanting to get too far out of shape. His best estimate was that it took about two hours to complete the routine and he wasn’t quite done yet.
Climbing to his feet, he mopped his brow with his shirt and waited for the instructions to stand against the far wall.
The familiar words (he had a feeling it was a recording) didn’t come though and the door cracked open without any further preparations.
There was a muffled complaint and a small woman walked in, shading her eyes from the bright lights that were never turned off. “Ardan? Are you alright?”
Not a small woman, he realized, a girl. A familiar one. “Melissa? What are you doing here?” Why would the Archon send her daughter in here…? Was she a prisoner now? Or was this not even the real Melissa?
“Getting you out of here.” She uncovered her eyes and then went crimson, looking away. “Oh my god! Put your shirt on!”
With an embarrassed grunt, Ardan complied, the sleeveless singlet providing some decency. “I’m sorry, I wasn’t expecting any visitors.”
“Good grief, have you been working out the entire time you’ve been here?” another voice asked, Melissa joined by a middle-aged man. It took Ardan a moment to recognise Frederick Steiner’s right-hand man, Max Mustermann. The baron looked him up and down. “I know who to ask if I can’t get a jar open.”
“I’ve not had a lot of options for entertainment,” Ardan told him. “If I’m allowed out of here, let’s go now.”
“We’re not completely done.” a third voice clarified as Max backed up to let Ardan leave the cell.
The man outside was slightly more familiar than Mustermann - Colonel Morgan Kell had made the headlines more than once in his career as a mercenary. He was holding a heavy case.
“No guards?” Ardan asked, looking around.
“LIC security assumes that if anyone gets out of a cell, it’s better to lock the block down and bring in a response team than have people here with weapons that could be taken off them.” Melissa told him as she also left the cell. “Seriously, they didn’t even give you anything to do in there?”
Ardan shook his head. “I don’t even know how long I was there, months obviously. Don’t get me wrong, getting out is as good as a Christmas present but I haven’t exactly been getting newspapers or holovid.” He’d actually looked forwards to the occasional interrogations once it became clear that there would be no violence involved in them - at least it was someone to speak to. The intervals between them had become longer and longer though, at least by count of meals and laundry visits.
“Solitary for this long.” Max shook his head. “If Hanse wasn’t already furious about this…”
“What’s even going on? Why am I being released now? That’s not a complaint, but…”, Adran began to say
“Morgan demanded that Hermann and Simon transfer custody to him.” Melissa explained as they went down the corridor to another door, Max checking the numbers which followed no sequence that Ardan could recognise.
“And they listened?”
Morgan shrugged. “I had the Archon’s ear once.”
“Once?” That sounded like a summary of a long story. “And Archon Steiner is…”
“That’s what we’re hoping to find out.” Max tapped one of the doors. “This is the cell on the paperwork, and for what it’s worth, the occupant should be the only other prisoner down here.”
“Who’s that?”
“The woman who was arrested with you.” Melissa looked up at him. “There’s something very wrong.”
Ardan rubbed his chin. He’d had no choice but to grow a beard in the cell. “You don’t say.”
The girl looked away. “I don’t know what happened. Even if you were guilty of what they said, you’re a diplomat -”
He winced.
“Here as a diplomat, anyway,” she said as Max unlocked the door. “There are rules!”
Morgan looked through the doorway and then turned sharply on Max. “Are you sure this is the cell?”
“It’s the number.” All four of them stared into an unoccupied cell. “We can check the others.”
“Do it.” the mercenary said flatly. Then he raised his hand. “No, I’ll check them. You and Melissa bring Ardan up to speed.”
Max accepted the case that Morgan passed him. “You’ve been here six months and diplomatic relations with New Avalon are in tatters.”
Six months? “I’d lost track of time, between chemical interrogation and… I think they went out of their way to vary meal times so I couldn’t keep count of days. They never turned the lights out and…” Ardan turned away, not wanting them to see the tears forming at the corners of his eyes.
A small hand took his own. “I’m sorry, Ardan. This prison was made by Claudius the Cruel, almost two centuries ago. Alessandro was the last one to use them, I never thought that mother would.”
He took a deep breath. “I wouldn’t have believed it either.”
“Can you tell us what happened?” Max asked him gently. “I have a third-hand claim that you were trying to enter the Nagelring vaults.”
“Well… I was, but it wasn’t espionage! Katrina said she wanted to send Hanse some data as a prize for winning the Third Alliance Games. But the locks didn’t open for her and then another Katrina arrived and claimed I’d brought an imposter in.” He’d relived that encounter over and over, during and between questionings. The one thing he’d been sure of was that there were two Katrinas and that he had no idea why. “She could open the door, so the guards believed her.”
“And they both looked like mother?”, Melissa asked
“Exactly alike…” he admitted. “Same face, same clothes… A mirror image would have been less alike.”
Max raked one hand through the loose locks of what remained of his thin blond hair. “And now we can’t find one of them. That’s not good…”
Ardan snorted. “Is anything good about this?”
“Theodore Kurita has cut off Tamar,” Melissa told him, face pale. “Uncle Frederick’s been sent to help the Capellans invade the Free Worlds League… and mother’s gone to Skye. There’s a disputed succession there that could tear one of the richest part of the Commonwealth apart. No, there’s nothing good about it.”
“We’re pretty damn sure that Melissa is who she says she is.” Max interjected. “Besides getting you out of here, we wanted to do a blood test comparing her and Hermann to the woman captured with you, because if she’s who she claimed then the Archon’s been replaced by an imposter.”
“Is that even possible?”
Max shrugged. “Medical researchers inside the FedSuns have been working on surgical reconstruction intended for those disfigured by war. The same techniques could be used to turn someone into a duplicate - a doppelganger, if you will - of someone else.”
“Hanse would never order that!”, Adran explaimed
That seemed to amuse the Lyran. “I don’t think he’d do that in this case. He’s not stupid. But to get a volunteer past security in the Combine or the Confederation? I doubt he’d rule it out. As a frame up, it’s exactly the sort of audacious scheme he might endorse as a prince.”
Ardan was about to protest, but Max raised his hand.
“As a First Prince, and against an enemy. But as a man, I don’t believe he’d do so to an ally. Particularly when it left one of his closest friends was left dangling as a result. Whether the imposter is the prisoner or the Archon, someone else is behind this. And we need to find them, because if this isn’t cleared up we may be looking at war between the Suns and the Commonwealth. AFFS strategic reserves are moving into the Terran Corridor and I’d be surprised if MIIO wasn’t at least considering whether they could get someone in here to release you without getting you killed in the process.”
As they spoke, door after door had been flung open. Morgan opened the last and swore at the results. “We’re alone,” he reported. “Wherever the imposter is, she’s not here.”
“Do you think Simon’s hidden her somewhere?” asked Melissa, eyes wide.
The mercenary shook his head. “No. But this might be sufficient proof to get him to act on our behalf.”
Max looked at Ardan. “I can get you on a dropship off Tharkad tonight, but I can’t be sure you’ll make it back to the Suns without someone arresting you. Right now, nothing short of Katrina herself can get you away from Morgan’s protection. Your call.”
Ardan met the baron’s gaze and then nodded. “Whoever did this used me like a weapon against our alliance. Let me send a message to Hanse - and I’m with you. I want answers.”
“That makes four of us.” There was a steely determination in Melissa Steiner’s eyes, the teenager looking much more like her mother than usual.
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===ComStar's Puzzelment===
Hilton Head, North America
Terra, Sol Solar System
March 13th, 3024
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“This time last year I wouldn’t have believed this could happen.” Huthrin Vandel observed as the update from the Skye HPG station concluded. “The Chancellor of the Capellan Confederation visiting the Lyran Commonwealth for personal negotiations with the Archon?”
“I wouldn’t have believed it six months ago.” Ulthan Everson murmured. Precentor Tharkad had spoken less and less at meetings of the First Circuit, of late. Julian Tiepolo suspected that he was struggling to keep his supporters in line. The status of the capital Precentors tended to vary with the strength of the state they were advocates to and the Lyrans’ sudden rise now seemed to be about to reverse.
The Primus glanced over at Villius Tejh. “Is the Chancellor’s absence likely to cause issues on Sian?”
“I don’t believe so. The House of Scions is quite enthusiastic about this diplomatic opportunity and the Chancellor’s wife is generally their spokesperson on the Prefectorate.” Precentor Sian hesitated for a moment. “His elder daughter is not enthused, but it seems unlikely she’ll endanger her standing in Liao’s eyes by acting. She’s only the Heir Presumptive, after all.”
“My understanding is that Hanse Davion has sent a personal emissary to Skye since Katrina is avoiding the new ambassador by leaving Tharkad for these talks,” Vandel noted. “I don’t have any information to suggest how well that’s working out.”
“Not well.” Tiepolo folded his hands behind his back. “Green-Davion has met the Archon before but she is closer to Duke Frederick and without him she lacks a personal connection. And now that the negotiations with the Chancellor are beginning, security concerns and time demands for the talks are going to further limit her chances to make contact.”
“However damning this may be for the Davion alliance, a Capellan partnership for the Lyrans still isn’t something we should encourage.” Thomas Marik managed to make it look almost as if he wasn’t discussing his family’s hereditary enemies making common cause.
Precentor Sian grimaced. “It would be a mistake to imagine that Maximilian Liao is lacking in personal charisma.”
“You think that this alliance could work?” Pedrigo Aliz asked, looking at Tejh.
“I hesitate to rule it out,” the man continued. “He asked for a joint invasion of the Free Worlds League and that’s happened. His other proposal for advancing an alliance was permanent high level representation in Katrina Steiner’s advisors. And as I understand it, that’s at least being considered?”'
“In principle yes, although the details of how that would work in their respective governments is yet to be decided,” Tiepolo advised. “Steiner’s own interests are less clearly expressed but I believe economic interests are, somewhat predictably, foremost in her negotiator’s minds.”
“I don’t know how well they’ll do in Capellan markets.” admitted Tejh. “They are much more heavily regulated, although perhaps not any more corrupt.”
“In an ideal universe we’ll never need to find out.” Marik’s voice was calm, trying to present himself as objective perhaps? He’d risen as far as he reasonably could, Tiepolo thought. What were his ambitions now? Promoting him to head Luthien had set up the Kurita-Marik alliance, but he would never be acceptable as Primus so what else was there for the man?
“I think we can rely on the Chancellor to follow his nature and betray the Archon once he’s extracted as much value as he can from the arrangement.” he said out loud. “In addition, Romano Liao is apparently very enthusiastic about the potential for crushing the Mariks between her nation and the Archon’s. My understanding is that she can be easily encouraged to overreach, Villius?”
“I wouldn’t go so far as to say she’s an utter fool.” the Precentor said after a moment’s thought. “I don’t believe she has any real understanding of how different Lyran society is from what she’s used to. If the alliance progresses to the point she has close contact with Lyran officials, some gaffes wouldn’t be hard to arrange. If anything, they might be harder to prevent.”
“As Thomas says, better we don’t need to. But having the option to use such incidents is worthwhile.” Tiepolo agreed.
“Unfortunately, arrogance doesn’t preclude real ability.” Marik warned. “If she survives mistakes, she might learn enough to be a capable leader. I’d love to say she’ll self-destruct, but if she was that easily disposed of then her sister Candace would have removed her long ago.”
“I yield to your knowledge of dynastic politics,” Aliz said sarcastically. “Can we be sure that the worst case scenario doesn’t arise? If this Green-Davion woman manages to win Katrina over then Davion might join the talks and Liao was in theory open to such discussions. I believe his original response to the Peace Proposal was that he’d only participate in talks if at least one other Successor Lord was involved.”
“The Federated Suns and the Capellan Confederation hate each other,” Tiepolo mused, “But Hanse Davion himself has had little direct contact with the Capellans…”
“...and the longest single peace along any border since the fall of the Star League was between Davion and Liao,” Tejh added. “Granted, it was a century ago but there was a lengthy ceasefire at one point so that they could each focus on their other neighbor. It lasted over twenty years.”
“Who broke it?” asked Everson curiously.
“Davion.”
“Mm.” Precentor Tharkad said with a nod suggesting he’d expected as much.
“I would very much doubt that the Archon could act as a mediator between Hanse Davion and Maximilian Liao at the moment.” Tiepolo observed. “She’s thoroughly alienated from the First Prince at the moment. And if anyone believes that Maximilian Liao would play peacemaker between the other two, I would have to question your qualifications to be on this council.”
“If anything, it would suggest wilful refusal to read briefings on him.” Marik agreed.
“That leaves Hanse Davion.” Vandel observed. “I am not quite willing to say that he couldn’t mediate the other two but I’m hesitant to say he would.”
“In the unlikely event,” the Primus said, “We will provide as much assistance as we can to Candace Liao and Michael Hasek-Davion who are not only natural enemies, but have immense personal hatreds towards Romano Liao and Hanse Davion that would predispose them to oppose such an alliance.”
Aliz nodded. “So, does anyone have more serious thoughts about the negotiations on Skye?”
“I am puzzled that Katrina Steiner has yet to make a clear ruling on the matter of Skye’s succession.” Everson noted. He looked over at Tiepolo suspiciously. “Do we have any clues as to why she’s making such… questionable choices over the last few months? It’s convenient, but if she continues to act like this then she may go the way of her uncle. She did set a precedent for an ineffectual Archon being deposed, after all.”
“ROM has a number of theories,” Tiepolo answered carefully. “House Steiner does have a record of hereditary mental conditions and it’s possible that the Sortek scandal has pushed her into some degree of paranoia with regard to the Federated Suns.”
“Could such a thing be chemically induced? If Lestrade had dosed her with something to improve his chances of securing the throne of Skye then that would give us a great deal of leverage on him.”
“I’m fairly sure that chemically compromising someone in such a specific manner is beyond even the Star League,” he said lightly. “And the Archon’s security is formidable. I suppose there could be some degree of blackmail but I find it hard to believe that Steiner has any dark secrets so vital that she’d be willing to hand over a quarter of the Lyran economy to preserve it.”
Everson continued to study the Primus for a moment and then shrugged. “I remain curious. If nothing else, if Katrina self-destructs then it’s likely there would be a regency in her daughter’s name - most likely with Frederick Steiner as regent. If nothing else, he would almost certainly move decisively to restore relations with the Davions.”
“That is a troubling prospect.” Tiepolo considered that for a moment. “I will ask Emilio Rachan to see if there’s anything else we can do to investigate the matter, but I doubt he can guarantee any results. We’re well informed but alas even ROM can’t answer every question.”
“That’s all I can ask I suppose.” Everson agreed and then he retreated from the conversation, declining to be drawn into discussions of what impact Lyran merchants might have on the long sluggish Capellan economy.
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