OPREF-4 Chpt 3

=Book 4, Chapter 3 - Full House=
==Opalescent Reflections==
----
<<Previous Chapter - Return to Story Index - Next Chapter>>
----
===Challenging the Nova Cats===
Sigulda Plains, Incukalns
Clan Nova Cat Occupation Zone
22 November 3056
----
The dropship’s hatch swung open, revealing a ramp down from the ‘mech bay deck down to the soil of Incukalns, still smoking from where grass had been burned away by the fusion torch of the Union. Victor marched his Warhammer down the ramp, checking the tactical display as red icons marking the Nova Cats sprang to life on it.
They were too far out for it to be his own sensors picking them up, which meant that the Clan warriors weren’t close enough to engage the landing site. It must be the more powerful sensor suites of the task force’s dropships or aerospace fighters above that were picking up the 449th Assault Cluster.
“So far so good,” Adam Steiner observed on the command channel. The Marshal of the Twelfth Donegal Guards hadn’t been aboard the same dropship. They had come down with an aerospace escort but there was still a risk that the Nova Cats would attack.
“I wouldn’t have been surprised if they’d refused us safe conduct to land,” Victor replied, glancing off to where his distant cousin’s Nightsky was joining up with his command group. “But once they agreed to safcon it would be a major loss of face for them to break that.”
Adam’s voice was gruff. “Not to mention that it would free us to use the Inflexible.” The attack force had been escorted to Incukalns’ orbit by the corvette - which might be small by warship standards but was reassuringly sizeable in comparison to the dropships.
“I’d just as soon we don’t escalate to that sooner than we need to.” As harsh as it was to say it, with so few warships available right now, the corvette might have more strategic value than the entire planet.
Any further conversation was cut off by a warning of “Nova Cat movement!” from one of the hovercraft that had set out to create a perimeter around the landing zone.
Victor wasn’t the only one who snapped his attention to the direction of the enemy but after a moment it became clear that most of the Nova Cat force was still holding back - the aerospace forces circling lazily above them, mechs and elementals hunkered down around the highway that linked the high plains to the lower coastal regions. Only a single Star was advancing towards the dropzone.
“Are they trying to contact us?” Victor asked.
“Not yet,” the commtech aboard Adam’s command ship said - the HQ vans had yet to disembark, since they could do their work perfectly well from aboard and it would save time if they had to withdraw hastily. “Wait, no - there’s a request from Star Colonel Thaddeus Nostra to speak to Marshal Adam of House Steiner and Kommandant-General Victor of House Steiner.”
“Well that’s almost my name, and the Star Colonel did get our ranks right,” he said wryly. “Sir.”
His cousin was silent for a moment. “Both command lances. We’ll meet them in kind, but with eight to five we should be alright if this turns into a fight. Comms, tell the Star Colonel we’ll meet him three klicks out from our dropships, at the edge of our perimeter.”
Victor signaled for his lance to fall in and they converged with Adam’s before the eight ‘mechs turned to march towards the oncoming Nova Cats. There was a mismatch between the two lances - Victor’s was made up of heavyweight designs that worked well with his Warhammer while Adam had assigned ‘mechs able to keep pace with his agile Nightsky.
The Nova Cats seemed to skew somewhat closer to Victor’s lance - he recognized a pair of Mad Dogs in the command star, but they flanked a Warhawk, an Executioner and a Kingfisher - all assault ‘mechs. Of course, the Cluster’s designation did suggest that they skewed towards heavier ‘mechs.
The Warhawk took the lead and came to a halt half a kilometer ahead of the mark. //“Marshal Adam, Kommandant-General Victor,”\\ a voice boomed from the ‘mech’s loudspeakers. //“I am Star Colonel Thaddeus Nostra and I have granted you safcon to land on Incukalns. It is now for you to offer challenge.”\\
Victor had rehearsed this with Adam, drawing on interviews with captured Clan warriors. Neither had been entirely sure that this would become necessary but both agreed that it was better to be prepared, and their sources said that the Clans were not minimalists when it came to chewing on the scenery in a challenge.
The Marshal rose to the occasion. “I am Adam Steiner and the blood of Archons flows through my veins. I lead the Twelfth Donegal Guards, who fought the Jade Falcons without surcease upon Trellwan without thought of surrender or defeat, who returned from the grave to defeat them again on Coventry. We have come here to take Incukalns back under the fist and sunburst of the Federated Commonwealth.” His Nightsky raised its hatchet high. “Who dares to stand in our path?!”
//“The deeds of the Twelfth Donegal Guards indeed stand tall, though I will not claim that they overshadow the history of the 449th Assault Cluster,”\\ Nostra answered, spreading the arms of his Warhawk wide. //“Nor is your name unknown to us, though if you think we are as easy prey as the Jade Falcons then our claws will not relinquish Incukalns to you. I will lead the defense in person, and I have bid three trinaries of my finest mechwarriors for this trial.”\\
Victor exhaled. That was ambitious - they didn’t have the entire Twelfth Guards here, just the ‘mech regiment and a mixed brigade of armor, infantry and supporting arms. Seven years ago the idea of someone withholding part of their force would have smacked of arrogance… but that was before the Clans swept across almost a third of the Inner Sphere. It might seem mad, but it clearly worked.
“A brave bid,” Adam answered. “I shall allow my subordinate officers to bid for their right to crush you.” That was what a Clan would do but it was just an excuse for Adam, Victor and the staff to adjust their plan.
//“Forty-five of their omnimechs against all of us? We could use everything and crush them easily,”\\ Leon Bradford recommended. The commander of Adam’s first ‘mech battalion was generally an advocate of using as much force as possible to end a battle swiftly.
The RCT’s operations officer cleared his throat. “That may not be the best move,” he said from where his Centurion was covering Adam’s flank. “We’ve played by Clan rules so far. If we break them, they may not feel bound and you know how deadly that can be.”
“We can’t base our strategy on hoping the enemy holds back. Besides, they might think we’re honoring their furry little heads by bringing a full brigade against that few of them!”
“Might,” Victor cut in. “We can’t base things off that either. ‘Doc’s got a point - they’re sticking to their rules and while the Nova Cat’s aren’t the Jade Falcons, we know they take their customs seriously. We have a simple mission here, we shouldn’t complicate it by insulting them if we don’t need to.”
“What do you suggest, Trevana?” asked Adam. “Combined arms is our strength - I’d rather give up numbers than lose our air cover and artillery.”
“According you our last intel they have five trinaries in their cluster,” Caradoc ‘Doc’ Trevana mused. “They’re offering to fight with fifty or sixty percent of their forces, that suggests we shouldn’t take that much more by proportion. Maybe seventy percent.”
“It’s crazy,” Bradford grumbled. “‘Doc, I get what you’re saying but leaving a third of our forces sidelined is going to leave us with casualties we could avoid.”
“More of a reserve,” Angie Graves corrected. “I’d say hold back my infantry -” Colonel Graves led the infantry regiment brought for this operation. “- and the aerospace. We may need the air cover later, if they’re buying time for one of their warships to get here.”
That was a valid concern, but Victor was fairly sure the Nova Cats wouldn’t even bother with bidding if that was their plan. Very few Clans did - you were either an honorable foe to be dealt with under their honor code or you were not, with no middle ground. Since Nostra was treating them with honor, by his… by his own code.
“Victor?”
He realized he must have said something, because the conversation had cut short. “He’s testing us.”
“What do you mean?” Adam asked.
“We came here using their rules. Nostra is trying to find out if we’ll keep doing that.”
“Right up until it’s to our advantage not to,” said Graves cynically.
“No, he’s right.” Trevana’s Centurion shifted slightly, reflecting the officer’s reaction. “And it’s not just that we’re using their rules, we’re doing so wearing the Cameron Star!”
Victor’s gaze flickered to the markings added to all of their ‘mechs. Every unit along the entire border with the Clans, both AFFC and DCMS, had been ordered to add that emblem to their heraldry in preparation for the counter-offensive. “It’s almost sacred to them. If we honor that, by treating it with what they see as respect… that’s huge.”
“I don’t most of the Clans will see it that way.” Trevana admitted.
Adam’s Nightsky turned slightly. “If it means even one Clan breaks ranks and starts engaging with us directly then it could be huge. But it doesn’t solve our immediate issue. What do we take against them.”
Victor looked at the five Nova Cat ‘mechs. “We don’t match their numbers,” he decided. “That would be throwing this away. Try… seventy-five ‘mechs. That’s symbolic, five of us for every three of them.”
“Cutting it fine,” Adam warned. “Ninety, two to one? You mean to just use ‘mechs?”
“Mechs and Clan rules of engagement, sort of,” Victor told him and then outlined what he had in mind as a tactic.
There was a hiss from Bradford. “That could leave a lot of our mechwarriors in their hands even if we win, your highness.”
“Not if we use their rules correctly,” Trevana disagreed. “We’ll have to win though. And seventy five is about right, Marshal. If we use ninety then we’re clearly using a higher proportion of our forces than they are. That’s the wrong message.”
“The only message I want to send them is a bullet with their name on.” Bradford grumbled. “Nondi Steiner will have our asses for this if it doesn’t work.”
“Then we’ll have to make it work,” Adam decided. “Can your battalion pull this off, Leon?”
“Who do you think we are, the Regulars? We can do this, however dumb an idea it is. You’d just better be right.”
“First and Third then,” Adam decided. “I want an intact battalion in reserve so three more out of the command lances.”
“It’s my idea, Adam.” Victor told him.
“...well, since your great-aunt will be sharpening an axe for me anyway…” the Marshal allowed. “And your Warhammer is more the weight we want to use anyway.”
“I’ll go too, sir,” offered ‘Doc. “Put my money where my mouth is.”
----
While Adam relayed the bid to the Nova Cats and negotiated the field of battle - ‘Circle of Equals’ in Clan parlance - there was a quick argument among Victor’s lance over who would be fighting alongside him. He wasn’t consulted on the matter and they all let their let their Skye accents slip out with increasingly loud reasons to be the one going, until suddenly agreement was reached and all animosity vanished. Victor wasn’t sure why the three had declined to join the Seventeenth Skye Rangers when it was reformed, but he was rather glad they had chosen to stick with him.
“So why did you get to come with me?” he asked Matti, as she chivvied Caradoc into positioning his Centurion next to her Thunderbolt.
“A Rifleman isn’t built for this sort of brawl,” she told him, “Juni’ was only offering for the form of it. An’ I told Rudi it’d be ungentlemanly to expect me to face Nondi Steiner if’n you don’t make it through this.”
“Well, I’ll try not to put you through that.”
“Oh, if we survive she’ll make us all regret it,” the woman said briskly. “No helping it.”
“I’d say they’re not always like this but I’d be lying.” Victor said to Caradoc. The Nova Cat’s bid forces were moving towards them now. Adam had agreed to fight on the plains, a rough circle being marked out with beacons provided by the Nova Cats. Any ‘mech leaving the line would be deemed defeated - although with more than a hundred ‘mechs inside the circle, it had to be large enough that a mechwarrior would be hard-pressed to leave by accident.
“My condolences, sir,” he said tightly as the ‘mechs on both sides crossed into the circle, forming rough lines facing each other although kilometers still divided them.
Victor tilted his head slightly at the time. “Are you alright?”
“First battle nerves. I wasn’t on Coventry.”
“...could you not have told us when there was still time to bring, Rudi?” Matti asked plaintively…
And then a lone Nova Cat ‘mech outside the circle raised its arm and fired a PPC across the sky. The flare of energy was matched a moment later by a Donegal Guard Manticore Heavy Tank on the far side and that signaled the start of the… could Victor even call this a battle? It was more like a bloodsport… perhaps the Clan word fit better: it was a trial.
The two formations lunged at each other. The plains weren’t entirely flat, but there were few obstacles and, for ‘mechs that towered ten meters tall on average, most of those that existed were fairly trivial. The Nova Cats were spreading out, each star fanning out into a single line. In contrast, the Donegal Guards remained in tight lances, in each case two lances focusing in on a single star. Eight on five.
With the excellence of Clan warriors, trained from birth and equipped with the best military technology ever invented, those numbers might not as advantageous as Victor could wish for… but the Guards were, for the most part, veterans and their ‘mechs were almost all new designs or upgrades on older ones.
Victor’s little wedge of three didn’t quite fit into the formation, they were near the right end of the FedCom line and he thumbed secondary controls on each joystick, feeling the rumble of his reactor and a subtle rise in heat as his PPCs went live. They’d been upgraded again since Coventry and Clovis Holstein had waxed lyrical about the improvements. Now they would be put to the test.
“Second star from their left flank,” he pointed out, using the local net that would only carry his words to the lances flanking him to the left and right. “Hellbringer and Gargoyle - I have the ‘bringer, Matti you take the Gargoyle. ‘Doc, you’re cleaning up. Everyone knows the plan.”
“Sir, are we clear to make physical attacks?”
Victor winced. He hadn’t considered that particular twist on Clan expectations. They didn’t approve of such attacks… but it was perfectly normal for his own mechwarriors to use them if the opportunity presented itself. On the other hand, he was already putting them at a lot of risk. “We’re dangerous,” he decided. “Let them know it.”
There were several approving chuckles on the channel and then there was no more time.
Victor dropped his crosshairs over the Hellbringer. While he wasn’t really inside effective range, that didn’t really matter - he fired one PPC and missed. What mattered wasn’t hitting though, what mattered was that the Hellbringer was now ‘his’ target and under the honor code of the Clans it must now fight him and only him. Around him, other mechwarriors were doing the same: taking the initiative to pick their opponents out and dictating who would fight who.
The Hellbringer fired back, the Nova Cat sure enough of his range advantage to slow the ‘mech to steady himself and fire back with both PPCs from a stable firing position. One of the PPCs missed and Victor turned to one side, not quite managing to avoid the other one. His electronics flickered as the shot crashed against the left side of his Warhammer’s torso and blasted deep into the armor plating.
It didn’t quite penetrate… and the instant before the shot hit, he had triggered his own return shot from the left arm’s PPC. His ‘mech didn’t mount the older Donal PPC that had marked the Warhammer for centuries. Both had been replaced with salvaged Clan models, rebuilt by Clovis Holstein with capacitors based on those used in Gauss Rifles.
They were slower to charge when those capacitors were active; and they ran far hotter, something that the slower rate of fire didn’t entirely off-set.
But they hit with unprecedented force and the Nova Cat’s assumption of a narrow range advantage let Victor aim almost perfectly. The bolt of charged particles missed the cockpit by less than a meter, tearing into the bulked out right torso, just below the missile launcher.
Barring extraordinary fortune, a standard PPC - or even the more impressive Clan models - wouldn’t have been assured of a penetration. The Hellbringer’s armor was thinner than that of Warhammer even without the reinforcement that Victor benefited from, but the designers had realized that it was going to have to survive a hit from a Gauss Rifle or an extended range PPC.
They hadn’t designed it to survive a hit from what Clovis Holstein had called ‘the most powerful directed energy weapon ever mounted on a ‘mech’.
The charged particles blew through every protection and speared into the ammunition stores that fed both missile launchers and machine guns. While the cellular storage systems vented the secondary detonations as intended, sparing the core of the Hellbringer, they couldn’t spare the weapons, the reactor shielding or the control runs to the omnimech’s right arm.
Only the fact that the mechwarrior had slowed for their own shots let them avoid a fall, but the Nova Cat was stripped of half his armament and the infra-red bloom marked reactor damage.
To the credit of the mechwarrior, they kept coming and Victor was rocked again by a second hit that crashed against his Warhammer, blocking it with his left arm to protect the damaged side of his ‘mech. Again, his armor could take the hit.
Then his right arm’s PPC had fully recharged and the next shot plowed into the center of mass for the Hellbringer. Most ‘mechs could have taken that hit and kept fighting but that wasn’t the case here.
“Blake’s blood,” Trevana whispered over the comms as the Hellbringer blew up, a trail of fire marking the mechwarrior’s ejection.
Freed of his immediate concerns, Victor looked around. Few ‘mechs were falling yet on either side, giving him precious moments to let his PPCs recharge and the temperature gauge to drop. Just a few instants of combat had left him sweating.
The Donegal Guards weren’t fighting to kill, they were going for crippling shots, aiming to open up holes. A Timber Wolf brought down a Zeus from the lance to Victor’s left, but its paint had been torn away marking where armor had been weakened, but not penetrated across the left side. The omnimech’s right arm was a wreck, marking where a gauss rifle had been wrecked.
Undaunted by the damage, the bird-like omnimech wheeled towards Victor, shielding its left flank as the Nova Cat tried to target his own damaged left side.
Before the ‘mech could fire, Trevana’s Centurion darted in, moving even faster than the Timber Wolf and tearing open the damaged side of the cylindrical torso with its autocannon. A moment later a volley of LRMs slashed in to strike at the heavier’ mech.
The Nova Cat still had a weight advantage but with the loss of its gauss rifle, there wasn’t much difference in armament and it had already been damaged. The mechwarrior twisted away, trying to prevent the more agile Centurion from bringing its weapons to bear on the open sides - cluster rounds from the LB 10-X in the lighter ‘mech’s right arm could create havoc with such an vulnerability.
Victor checked for an open opponent, sweeping his gaze past a Gargoyle that was back-pedaling, trying to keep an Axman from closing in but unable to deliver a killing blow. 
Matti had managed to finish off her own Gargoyle, but her Thunderbolt was blackened almost from head to tow, the missile launcher a wreck and the left arm missing entirely as a Kingfisher pummelled her.
The assault ‘mech had taken a pounding from a previous opponent but Matti was struggling to exploit it - the Kingfisher was nothing like the lighter Hellbringer, it was layered in thick armor plating and her lasers hadn’t managed to force a penetration.
“Punch out, Matti. You can’t take much more of this.” Victor warned.
“I’m s’pposed to be guarding you, Victor!” she spat back. “I’ll keep this ‘un busy.”
“Like hell you will,” he snapped as the Kingfisher’s autocannon blazed, ripping open the front of the Thunderbolt. “Stick to the plan, and don’t make me apologize to Rudi!”
A Gaelic curse came back at him across the command net and a moment later the Thunderbolt’s canopy erupted open and threw the mechwarrior up and into the sky. A split second later the Kingfisher’s finishing blow landed, a PPC shot that cored through the front of the heavy ‘mech and blew parts of the gyro out of its rear.
Seeing it’s victim dead, the Kingfisher turned in search of a new foe and Victor could almost see the mechwarrior’s shock as it saw him already lining up both PPCs.
“Hi there,” he breathed and triggered both weapons as the crosshairs hovered over the center of mass.
A wave of heat washed over Victor and he reached for the reactor override on reflex before realizing that the heatsinks were already dragging the temperature back down to safe levels. He’d been firing from near ideal conditions and had only orange-lined the ‘mech, not reaching the levels when the reactor safeties would try to shut him down.
A second such salvo would have done that, but the Kingfisher had taken both shots to the chest and however tough it was, the impact of the shots had not only carved open the armor, it had overloaded electronics briefly and left mechwarrior and gyro unable to keep the ninety-ton ‘mech upright. The assault ‘mech crashed over onto its back and Victor stalked closer, seeing the charging meters for the PPCs rise slowly. He could have fired them without waiting for a full charge, but Holstein had admitted that that part of the design was ‘fiddly’ which he took to mean that it was a last resort.
Instead he lowered his sights over the Nova Cat ‘mech and triggered his secondaries. Pulses of coherent light from the lasers carved the hole in the front of the ‘mech and he saw the PPC mount detonate. Six SRMs exploded out of the missile launcher and hammered less precisely into the Kingfisher, cratering its remaining armor but still it struggled to stand.
Pushing the Warhammer harder, Victor closed in and then slammed one of its broad feet down on the chest of the Kingfisher, feeling components grind and break under the impact. Lowering one PPC to aim down at the cockpit, he could see the pale face and wide eyes of the mechwarrior inside. “Be smart,” he demanded, using his loudspeakers.
With a resigned look, the Nova Cat reached for what was evidently the reactor controls and a moment later the temperature of the fallen ‘mech nosediveed, indicating that the power was off. The woman inside started working to remove her neurohelmet in surrender.
Victor took a moment to look at the wider tactical situation. The plains, which only minutes ago had been populated by lines of pristine battlemechs were now a charnel yard of broken machines. Over a dozen surrounded just his vicinity and the tac display showed barely half the blue and red icons that had once been visible. Off the cuff, he reckoned little more than a dozen Nova Cats ‘mechs still stood, facing perhaps twice their number of Donegal Guards.
“Stick to zellbrigen!” he barked as he saw a Lyran Hippogriff open up on a battered Warhawk just as Trevana’s Centrion tried to line up his own shot.
The ops officer pulled back and a moment later, the Warhawk brought both arms to bear and discharged four PPCs in turn into the Hippogriff. The medium ‘mech was fresh and hardly a soft target but that was more firepower than Victor had employed against much larger ‘mechs. Fifty-five tons of battlemech was outlined by the flaring electromagnetic bolts and then dropped to its knees, the cockpit a blasted ruin and much of the chest no better.
thumb|HippoGriff Medium 'Mech
For a moment, Victor saw another ‘mech like it but in the colors of the Third Davion Guards. The product of eye flare perhaps but it moved him to stab his finger onto the general broadcast control. “Star Colonel Nostra!” he called. “I offer you hegira!”
The Warhawk was steaming, clearly on the brink of shut-down after that fusillade. It still moved its weapons to track Trevana’s Centurion, as it tried to get around and out of the arc of fire. A moment after Victor’s words, the assault ‘mech abruptly lowered its arms, pointing all four weapons towards the ground. “Kommandant-General, I accept,” the Nova Cat’s voice boomed. “All Nova Cats, cease fire!”
“Cease fire!” Victor added his voice. “Donegal Guards, stand down! We have won!”
For a moment he thought that the mechwarriors might not heed them but discipline held - battered Nova Cats backed away, weapons aimed deliberately away from the blackened and no less savaged Donegal Guards, who began to shuffle back into something approaching their initial lance deployments, watching the Clan ‘mechs warily as heat dissipated.
“Star Colonel Nostra.” Adam’s voice was cool and collected - he hadn’t been fighting, which Victor suspected was harder on his cousin than being in the thick of it. “Do I understand correctly that you accept defeat.”
“Aff,” the Star Colonel’s voice was wearier than his earlier acceptance, perhaps no longer feeling the adrenaline of the battle. “Your Kommandant-General has offered hegira and I accept it. We cede the battlefield and the prize of this world.”
“It is my understanding that under hegira, neither side may claim bondsmen?” Adam queried.
“You understand correctly, Marshal. With your permission, I will withdraw my warriors and the civilian governors we brought with us to our dropships. It may take several days before a jumpship is available to carry us back to another occupied world.”
“That is acceptable. I will call in our own recovery and medical teams for all of our warriors,” Adam offered. “Any of your warriors not able to travel with you will be offered our protection and care until they can.”
Nostra grunted. “That would be appreciated. I am pleased to see that those wearing the Star League’s banner live up to it.”
“Don’t expect us to always operate under your code,” Adam warned.
“Let me tell you a… well, it is not a secret,” the Nova Cat told them. “There is no Clan, and few warriors, who cannot be pushed to the point of breaking zellbrigen or even the abandoning the martial code entirely. But not every conflict need be fought to annihilation. It was to our advantage to hold onto Incukalns, but losing it is not a disaster for us. I know that some of your people believe we mistake our trials for war, but that is not true. It is an alternative to war, one that allows us to settle our differences without undue cost. No more and no less.”
“We are at war though.” Victor pointed out.
“We are in conflict,” the Nova Cat disagreed mildly. “We each have choices in how that is resolved. Some of those choices lead to trials like this, others to horrors like the Amaris Civil War.” The Warhawk was no longer immobile with heat and he slowly began to back-pedal towards his own forces. “There are those amongst my Clan - and others - who believe that our conflict with you must end in annihilation. What you have done today suggests otherwise.”
Victor watched the Nova Cats leave the circle, ‘mechs striding - or limping - towards the rest of the Cluster. Utility vehicles were already streaming from the dropships to recover ejected mechwarriors or those trapped within their cockpits.
“What do you make of that?” Adam asked him by private channel. “It sounded significant.”
“I think it was,” he replied. “The Clans have never reached out to us diplomatically on our terms, but they’d probably find that as confusing as we found their first batchalls. Maybe this is the Nova Cats trying to open negotiations. Our report is probably going to be read by everyone on the Star League Council. Try not to make any spelling mistakes.”
----
===A question of kerenskies===
Yamashiro, New Samarkand
Diamond Shark Dominion
6 December 3056
----
There were many things that Ace Enders accepted that he didn’t understand, some more important than others. While it wasn’t one of the things that kept him up at night, he did have a historian right with him, so he took the chance to ask: “This thing is seven hundred years old. Why is it basically identical to what’s being used right now? I could have sworn there was supposed to be some degree of technological progress.”
Ellison Enders leant on the railing, looking over at Coordinator Shiro Kurita’s Sabre aerospace fighter from the early twenty-fourth century. “How many history lessons did you get in the sibko?”
Ace frowned and absently used his fingers to calculate. “Once a week for… six months. So, twenty-five.”
“Was that a joke? Please tell me you were joking?”
“I was literally raised in a bandit camp until I was nineteen,” Ace pointed out. “My education was a little erratic.”
The older mechwarrior threw his head back and laughed. “You are a barbarian!”
“A true barbarian would not be trying to improve himself. So?” He waved his hand at the fighter suspended from the ceiling.
“There are a large number of incremental improvements between this and the type of fighters we see today, at least when it comes to variants of a Sabre,” the Goliath Scorpion lectured. “And even those are generally downgrades from those used by the Star League. Technological development is not a flat line, it is highly erratic. At times there can be fundamental breakthroughs but at others there may be generations where all we can do is refine what we have because we are fully exploiting our current understanding of the universe.”
Ellison rubbed his chin with one hand. “And it is not quite what we are seeing these days. Maybe back when you were overrunning half the Outworlds that was all they had, but my pilots were running into more advanced fighters - Corsair ComStar variants, the Cor-Star they call it.”
“In ComStar hands?” Ace asked, brow furrowing. He had heard of the fighter, though he had no personal experience of it.
“No, flown by the Alliance Military Corps.”
The Galaxy Commander smacked his fist against the rail. “ComStar must be selling armaments to everyone facing us. First the Hippogriff and now this.”
“It is no secret that all of the invading clans are installing their own HPGs to remove any dependence on them,” Ellison pointed out. “It does not take a genius to work out that after that point we have little need to tolerate their enclaves.”
“So besides the enemies outside our territory we have another that is operating within the dominion. Wonderful,” he said sarcastically. “I need to talk to Abigail Enders again. We need more data about the Inner Sphere.”
“I do not think you are worried enough,” the Seeker told him wryly. “Those fighters did not just use Alliance markings, they also bore the Cameron Star.”
“The Star League symbol.” Ace ran his hand through his hair. “If they are reviving that…” Then he laughed, bitterly. “The Crusaders wanted the invasion to rebuild the Star League. It seems they have accomplished that mission.”
“Worse than that. The Outworlds Alliance was not a willing member of the Star League. But now they are choosing to identify with it.”
“Stop trying to cheer me up, Ellison.” Ace was fairly confident of the analysis that Abigail Enders had shared with him of the Combine’s strength, which suggested a minimum of three years before they replenished their strength to where it had been before the push on New Samarkand. Even if they received supplies from the other Successor States, it would take them time to train up more soldiers. But if active combat troops from realms that hadn’t been contacted yet were committed then that equation changed.
The older member of the bloodhouse chuckled. “Think how happy the younger warriors will have a chance to earn glory in battle.”
“When did I stop counting as a younger warrior?”
“About the time you turned thirty.”
Ace raised one hand with three fingers raised.
“What’s that mean?”
“I will be twenty-nine for three more days.”
Ellison laughed again, turning his back on the fighter and leaning back on the rail. “Then I suppose that you should be excited at getting the chance to earn glory.”
I want victory, not glory. Ace made a rude gesture at Ellison.
The Goliath Scorpion reached into his pocket and pulled out a coin. “So I have a question for you. What the stang is this?”
Ace extended his hand and Ellison tossed the coin to him. Turning it over in his hand, the mechwarrior read the surface of the coin and then threw it back. “It is a half-Damon.”
“So if I get two of them, is it a full damon, whatever that is?”
“Heh. Yes, that is exactly how it works. It is a coin, Ellison. Surely you must have seen one before.”
“I have seen kerenskys before. But this is not a Kerensky, it looks a little like one.” The other man dropped him back in his pocket. “The currency of all the Clans is standardized, that is a requirement of the martial code. Why is your Clan minting its own currency, named for one of your past khans?”
“An interim measure,” Ace told him. “We cannot keep paying workers with House Kurita’s currency, and if we do not pay them then the entire economy will grind to a halt.”
“As loathe as I am to question a Diamond Shark about anything economic,” the graying warrior observed, “You are an ill-educated idiot, so why not just pay them with kerenskys? The money that we already have?”
He chuckled. “This is exactly the question that was asked in the Clan Council. Apparently most of the civilians are dubious about kerenskys because they expire if they are not used.”
Ellison tilted his head. “Can they not just spend them? Is that not what money is for?”
“Apparently not. Some people hoard it.”
“For… what exactly?” asked the old warrior, pulling the coin from his pocket. “It is not very pretty, and even in a collection why would you want more than one?”
“To spend them later. If, for example, due to age or the absence of employment, you have no income.”
“But the Clan would find them work,” Ellison pointed out. “Even if they…”
Ace shook his head. “House Kurita did not do that and very few people believe we will. The idea is that once they have the idea that they do not actually save money that we replace the damon with kerenskys. A full damon coin looks a lot more like a Kerensky.”
“Your merchants came up with the idea, quiaff?” accused the Goliath Scorpion.
“Of course. Why would our warriors try to come up with a plan for the economy when we have merchants who know what they are doing?”
“What else would I expect from a Clan that changes its name. And now you want to turn it back?”
“It is a little more complicated than that. The name is only part of the issue, it is to do with our visions for the Clan’s future. Those of us who feel we should adapt to our circumstances are rallying under the name of the Sea Fox.”
“So this is how it is to be present where history is made,” Ellison concluded merrily. “How exhilarating!”
----
===Pending Troop Movement===
Acomb, British Isles
Terra, Sol System
19 December 3056
----
“Is there some reason we’re meeting here?” Tiger Lily asked as she walked towards the restaurant table.
Wei Rong raised a wine glass in greeting. “It’s convenient for Sandhurst.”
“That is in fact a lie,” the Precentor Martial criticized from where he was sitting across from her, a tumbler of whiskey in one hand. Wearing a civilian suit with his long hair tied back in a ponytail, the one-eyed man looked like the villain of a holovid - in fact, a waitress had already asked if he was an actor. “We are over four hundred kilometers from Sandhurst.”
“That’s much closer than Hilton Head.”
“We could take a shuttle from Sandhurst and be in Hilton Head in under an hour. It took two hours by helicopter to get here.”
Wei chuckled. “Alright.” She sipped from her wine. “No one will expect to find us here, I’m fairly sure that there are no spies from any of the Great Houses here.”
Precentor Atreus looked around the converted pre-industrial farmhouse. “I can see why. Please tell me the kitchen is good?”
“I’d recommend the steak,” Wei told her. “The beef around here is excellent.”
The door opened and the last of her guests entered the restaurant, speaking briefly to a waiter before being pointed to Wei’s table. “With all due respect,” Andrew Norris told her in a tone that made it clear he wasn’t feeling respectful, “Why here?”
“Security reasons,” she replied. “Take a seat.”
Raising her hand, Wei called over a waitress and after a brief conversation everyone agreed on ordering the rump steak. A moment later and the waitress was back with Norris’ beer and Tiger Lily’s wine.
“What’s so sensitive that we can’t talk in Hilton Head?” Precentor Pesht asked after he’d taken a long drink from the pint glass.
Wei opened her mouth to reply but Focht spoke first. “The Primus takes every chance to escape her office, this isn’t the worst place she’s set up a meeting.”
“The Star League Council is finalizing objectives for the counter-offensive,” Wei said quietly. “The First Circuit voted in principle to participate but we are out of time to debate exactly what our part of this will be. I believe that the three of us have enough influence that whatever we agree will have the support of the majority of the First Circuit… and Anastasius is the best placed to advise us.” Tiger Lily lead the Terra-centric precentors and between Focht and Norris the militants would be on side. Combined with her own admirers, that came to around two-thirds of the First Circuit - the religious extremes made up much of the rest but Wei would be damned before she tried to bring Buckley in for this conversation.
Tiger Lily examined the contents of her wine glass as if the secrets of the universe were contained within. “So you are as concerned about spies from our own people as from the Great Houses.”
Wei tried not to let her face reveal how close that was. “Our spies answer to me, via DRUM. What I want is to avoid is spending weeks or months arguing via proxy. If we can come to an agreement and convince our political allies then ComStar is not the one slowing down the entirety of the counter-offensive.”
“That might have been easier to avoid with a smaller First Circuit,” the other woman murmured.
“The irony is not lost on me.”
Norris leant back in his seat. “My last information was that the Council had agreed that they need a commanding general to provide a single chain of command over all the operations being carried out.”
“They have elected such a commanding general,” Wei told him. “Taking a page from the history of the Free Worlds League, Precentor-Martial Focht will serve for a maximum of two years in the position before handing over to whoever is elected as his replacement.”
“It seems entirely probable that fighting will still be ongoing by then,” Norris warned.
Wei sighed. “I know. It was a compromise.”
“Quite honestly, two years of coordinating such extensive operations will be… exhausting,” Focht observed. “And I am not a young man. I imagine I will be quite ready to hand over the responsibility to someone else.”
“You said we need to decide quickly,” Tiger Lily said and sipped from her glass. “Oh dear, this was a mistake.”
“Order something else.” Wei told her.
“That is not done,” the precentor observed and sipped again. “Should I take it that military operations will be beginning in the next few months.”
Focht shook his head. “It will take at least a year to move the jumpships, supplies and troops into position. The distances are considerable and depending on our commitment, we may need to start making the moves almost immediately.”
Wei leant forwards. “One of the planned operations is a ‘demonstration’ raid against the Clan homeworlds. It will take a year for the task force to reach the right region of space and the thinking is that the attack should take place at approximately the same time as the other operations so they will need to assemble and depart within the next month.”
“I am glad that they are making use of Kapten Miraborg’s data,” Tiger Lily said thoughtfully, setting her glass down. “Not to mention the Explorer Corps’ work… but such an attack may be provocative.”
“What are they going to do?” asked Norris sarcastically. “Invade the Inner Sphere? I think we are a little bit past that point.”
“By my understanding, more than half of the Clans haven’t joined the invasion so far,” she countered. “Do we really want to see that change?”
Focht ran one finger about the rim of his empty glass. “We have no guarantee that we will not have to face that anyway. Interrogation of captured Clan warriors makes it clear that the majority of the Clans actively competed for the right to join the invasion. Their original plan only involved five Clans’ participation and the involvement of seven was the result of pressure to expand that number.”
“Their invasion ultimately halted for lack of forces,” Wei reminded them. She refilled her own wine glass. “If I were in the shoes of a Clan Khan wishing to lead a renewed invasion - and we know that there are such men and women - then inviting more Clans to invade would be an obvious course of action. With that as a case…”
Tiger Lily nodded in understanding. “Alright, that is less of a concern. But we should still try to avoid provoking those Clans.”
“Of course,” the Primus agreed. “In the best case, Task Force Topaz will find Huntress. Our best information is that the world is almost entirely under the control of Clan Smoke Jaguar, with some possibility that Clan Jade Jade Falcon shares it with them. That may have changed since then but I don’t think that striking at either of those Clans will be considered excessive so long as there are no atrocities.”
“There will be considerable temptation,” Norris noted. “The Kungsarme have offered their Flying Drakons to join the attack and they were in the air over Reykjavik when it was destroyed.”
Focht grimaced. “For that reason we want to exercise tight control over any weapons of mass destruction involved. Nuclear armaments to engage warships must be taken as a contingency and General Mansdottir has confirmed that at least some of Rasalhague’s strategic arsenal was evacuated before the Republic’s conquest. Rather than have them bring their own, I want approval to have the ComGuards provide all of the warships for Topaz. If the Flying Drakons are staging from our ships we should be able to control what weapons they have access to and reserve them for cases where they are needed.”
“How many of our warships would this be?”
“I’m proposing to send our Second Destroyer Squadron,” the Precentor Martial informed her. “It’s made up of six Lola-class destroyers. Their fighter bays would be sufficient to carry all thirty-six fighters of the Flying Drakons and they have no dropship collars for carrier dropships.”
“Wouldn’t that limit their supplies?” asked Norris.
“The cargo bays are extensive,” Wei replied. “Between them, the destroyers can carry over six hundred thousand tons of supplies. Unloading them via shuttles would be time-consuming, but it’s enough to cover for a lot of contingencies.”
The ex-ComGuard glanced over at Focht. “Who else will be sent?”
“Thomas Marik has formed a new regiment of volunteers, the Knights of the Inner Sphere. Two battalions come from the FWLM while the others are mercenaries and even defectors from other realms. The Captain-General recruited them to be a chivalric order as much as a military force.”
Wei had a nasty feeling that it would go astray in time, but probably not in the first generation. “A unit of idealists may be suitable as a moral restraint and he was quite enthusiastic about sending them. The bulk of the fighting forces will be a full RCT from the Armed Forces of the Federated Commonwealth.”
“I suppose they can spare such a large unit for over two years, assuming they make it back at all,” Norris grumbled.
“Indeed. The Capellans and the Periphery realms were uninterested in contributing forces, but there will also be two battalions of battle armor from the DCMS, added to one with the regimental combat team. We expect a final decision on which RCT will be sent within the next few days, but it will most likely be one of the Davion Guard units.”
“That’s still quite a small force to strike at the Clan homeworlds,” Tiger Lily said thoughtfully.
“It’s a raid, not an invasion. Enough, we hope, that the Clans will concern themselves with defending their homeworlds rather than reinforcing their Inner Sphere holdings. We cannot hope to hold territory that far from the Inner Sphere,” the Precentor Martial warned. “There is considerable public pressure to hit back but we must be realistic.”
“And if Huntress is not found? My understanding is that the Clan capital system is close to it.”
“If we can’t locate Huntress, then Strana Mechty is unlikely to be found, they are within a single jump of each other.” Wei could imagine what a disaster an attack on what was apparently considered near sacred territory to the Clans would turn into. “In any case, Strana Mechty is off limits - if anything would send the Clans berserk it would be attacking them there. They don’t even fight over territory on their capital amongst themselves; but all the Clans have a presence, so it must be far too heavily defended.”
“Indeed,” Focht confirmed. “If they don’t find Huntress then any other enclave of the invaders would be a viable alternative. There will be discretion to negotiate with other Clans for navigational data if no other option is available, if the commander feels that they will abide by a trial of possession of such information. However, if we cannot find anything then it is better to withdraw intact. One consideration of sending such a small force is that it would cost us little even if nothing is accomplished.”
“Except it’s a large portion of our fleet.”
“Six destroyers from a fleet of forty-four,” Wei reminded Tiger Lily. “We will be completing four new ships before Task Force Topaz can repair, and if necessary we can re-activate the seven destroyers still in mothballs. I don’t like the expense of this but it’s an option.”
“What other warships will we commit?” the other woman asked cautiously.
“That’s in discussion, but the need to keep warships around Terra is something we’ve made clear. The squadron of cruisers in our orbitals and another covering Titan is the bare minimum,” Focht assured her. “My initial thinking is to commit two further destroyer squadrons to the counter-offensives, with our battlecruisers and corvettes held back with the strategic reserve.”
“If you sign off on restoration work for the other destroyers then I can accept that,” Tiger Lily said at last.
At that moment, the waitress approached with the first plates and Wei was glad of the excuse not to reply immediately. Soon plates with steaks, fries and salad were laid out, along with serving dishes of peppercorn sauce and other condiments.
Wei poured out some of the sauce onto the plate and was amused to see Focht eschew it, cutting open his rare steak before sniffing approvingly. “I was wondering if they were raising the cow from birth,” he muttered once the waitress had gone. The soldier cut a slice off the steak and chewed happily on it.
“If you are willing to work with me on convincing Phi of the financing then I’ll approve the restoration and upgrade of the Naga and Baron hulls,” Wei told Tiger Lily. “Precentor Zwick had design work done in case we needed it, but we will need a wartime budget.”
“What is it the Clans say? Bargained well and done?” Tiger Lily dipped a fry in the sauce and tasted it. Her eyes widened slightly. “Alright, this is worth the distance to get here.” She put the rest of the fry in her mouth and chewed. “I’ll order some better wine and we can toast to our hopes for Topaz.”
“There is another concern,” Wei told the Precentor before she could signal to the waitress currently tending to one of the handful of other occupied tables. 
“Oh?” asked Tiger Lily.
“I assume you mean the HPG stations on occupied worlds,” Norris said quietly, driving his fork through some salad, before spearing a fry to secure it. His post on Pesht was several jumps behind the truceline.
Wei nodded bleakly. “We have to assume that the Clans will turn on those stations as soon as we move openly. They’ve been establishing their own HPGs but as far as we can tell it’s far from covering all their needs.”
“For now. Ten years from now will be another matter,” he warned before lifting his fork to his mouth.
“Agreed. So from their perspective, taking our HPGs leaves them in control of their communications and deprives us of bases at their rear - particularly along the periphery border and the old Lyran-Draconian border.” Many of the HPGs in those regions were at the heart of enclaves tens or even hundreds of kilometers across. “We can’t allow that to happen.”
“How can we stop them?” Norris asked once he was done chewing.
Focht spoke up. “For stations such as yours, that have no substantial territory, we will require full interdict protocols. Staff go to ground, hiding or destroying key components. The Clans have the knowledge needed to restore them to service eventually but it will take them years, due to the same component bottlenecks that are stalling their own parallel network of HPGs.”
That got a nod and then Precentor Pesht’s eyes widened. He lifted his beer and drank from it. Swallowing, he turned to Wei. “I am sure the Clans will give us a justification for a general interdict in the next year, but since the Precentor Martial only mentioned HPGs that lack an enclave around them…?”
“We could do the same,” Wei agreed. “It would mean abandoning the people who moved their for our protection, but except where the other Task Forces strike it is unlikely that garrisons could hold out for long.”
“That isn’t what you are planning, is it?”
Wei looked down at her own plate. “I am torn. It would be an abandonment… but if garrisons remain in place then they would likely be destroyed.”
“Casualties will be heavy,” Focht confirmed. “I expect battalions and brigade would be lost, perhaps entire divisions.”
“Can’t we simply evacuate the garrisons that cannot be easily over-run?” offered Tiger Lily cautiously.
The white-haired soldier shook his head. “That would reveal the regions that are of interest to us. It would be too suspicious.”
“Then why are we even considering having the ComGuards defend them?”
“There are two reasons,” Focht told them, voice solemn. “Firstly is the moral one. The duty of a soldier is to stand between civilians and harm. We have pledged to guard those enclaves and no one ever said that it would be safe to do so.”
“Dying for a principle sounds pretty, but I imagine that the ComGuards will feel better about not being asked to die.” Tiger Lily pointed out and then reddened slightly, lowering her voice as a few heads turned at the next nearest table.
Wei smiled warmly at the other guests and mouthed “actors”. To her satisfaction, the other diners all turned back to their meal.
“No one is enthusiastic about dying,” Norris said quietly, “But unless they have changed significantly since my day, the ComGuards take their responsibility to those under their protection seriously. Abandoning those enclaves would be a severe blow to morale.”
Tiger Lily shook her head slightly but when she looked at Focht he nodded. “It would not be enough on its own to persuade me,” he told her. “However, there is also the argument that if the Clans are sending units to fight our garrisons, then those forces won’t be available to face the first waves of the counter offensive. I don’t intend to sacrifice my… our soldiers, but if they defend as long as they can before going to ground to fight as guerillas that could make a major difference.”
“Are you seriously considering this?” the Precentor asked incredulously.
Wei’s face must have given her away.
“You want my support for this?”
“Several years ago,” Wei told her, “I sent the vast majority of our espionage experts behind enemy lines to support resistance movements against the Clans. The most favorable estimate I have is that half of them may be alive.”
“That’s what they’re trained for,” Tiger Lily hissed. “And they are volunteers.”
“And this,” growled Focht, “is what my ComGuards are trained for. All of them are volunteers as well.”
“I definitely need more wine.” Tiger Lily pushed her chair back and walked to the bar.
The three left behind said nothing as they waited. Wei cut some more from her steak but it was without taste when she put it in her mouth.
When Precentor Atreus returned with a full glass in her hand, she looked calmer. “Two divisions at most,” she almost whispered once she was seated again. “And they have to know what they are getting into - not the specifics, but brief them that there may be no relief if they come under attack by the Clans.”
----
<<Previous Chapter - Return to Story Index - Next Chapter>>
Chapter 4-3