ICHaFBI 13

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=I, Corvus; How a Fool became Imperator of the O'Reillys - Chapter XIII -=
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----<Character List Directory of I, Corvus>----
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===Assault in the name of fractured People===
The Skies Over Alphard
Marian Hegemony
5th November, 3032
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Angus McIntyre waited in silence as the Leopard swung low over the Marian capital. All of his life, he’d dreamed of riding with the Black Warriors. Now, he commanded them. His dreams had fallen to bitter ash in his mouth the moment he achieved them.
When his distant uncle had died in 3020, his children, siblings, and cousins had shattered the Black Warriors into half a dozen pieces. When their pointless wars devastated the Federation and the people began to rise up against them, they fractured again, dozens of company and lance sized commands fighting a confused civil war that devolved into a brutal struggle for survival as the Circinan worlds burned.
 
When his father died, he took over his ancestral Rampage, a relic from the days when Rim Worlds Republic reigned over Circinus, disavowed his claim and his family, and fought to unite the people of Circinus. Not under him, but above him.
 
Eleven long years of exhausting struggle, and yet it wasn’t his fight that united his people. It was the looming threat of the Marians. Eleven years that Circinus could have spent building its own empire to rival the Marians, or fortifying into an impenetrable rock, or at least not throwing away it’s strength on petty wars.
 
The McIntyre name was toxic now, despite his suffering. The powers that be would never accept him as president, never even as a congressman. It was even written in the damned constitution. But a general? Well, even the squabbling politicians in Congress knew he was their only hope.
 
They’d called him mad when he unveiled his plan to strike Alphard. They were right.
 
But that didn’t mean he was wrong.
 
The Leopard’s doors opened and Angus stepped forward. He slammed into the street a hundred meters below, his assault lance surrounding him. “Warriors! Report!”
 
<<“Black Warriors 1st Battalion, successful drop on southern outskirts.”>>
 
>>“Black Warriors 2nd Battalion, successful drop on northern outskirts”<<
 
Angus said a silent pray for the 3rd Battalion, lost on Gibraltar, who should have reported next. Veterans of countless campaigns, with undying dedication to the Circinan cause. Never to rise again.
 
“Black Warriors 4th Battalion, drop two kilometres out of position, making best speed to central rail hub, one dropship lost.”
 
((“Illyrian People’s Front, fifty kilometers from target, no sign of detection.”))
 
“McIntyre House Guard, drop aborted due to flak.”
 
Better than Angus had expected. Sensors had detected two dozen aerospace wings on the ground and half as many conventional craft, yet only a handful had intercepted them. “Illyrians step up your pace. The House Guard needs you now. 2nd and 4th Battalions, proceed as planned. 1st Battalion, advance!”
The Praetorians were already fanning out around his unit. They were smaller mechs than his, he assumed the trademark Centurions of the Hegemony Armed Forces. They’d no doubt noticed his company was almost all heavy or assault sized, and hoped to outmaneuver them through the streets with their speed and harass blast away from all directions. But they weren’t close enough to see the disproportionate number of Banshees, Flashmen, Ostrocs, and Ostsols in the unit, nor could they know of his Rampage’s MASC.
“3rd company, to the spaceport. 1st and 2nd companies! Follow me, and don’t stop until you hit the palace.”
 
He pulled his mech into high gear and weather the hail of RAC fire and long range missiles. He fired back with LBX and large blasts, blowing through the walls of the low buildings to get at the mechs behind. The Centurions ahead realized their danger too late and the three hundred ton command lance was in knife fight range long in moments.
 
Angus carved a hole through the Marian machines, and the rest of the Battalion followed.
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===I only answer to the Imperator===
Imperator’s War Room, Imperial Palace
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Marcus Gibson’s face was red with rage. His voice was already hoarse from the screaming he thought necessary to command the defense, yet on he screamed into his headset.
 
“Prefect Yassin! You command an entire Imperial Legion! You people are fully equipped, and damn near fully trained! Together we outnumber the Circinans more than 2:1! I demand that you march to palace now, or by God, I will slow roast you over the fire for days!”
 
>>“You could throw me in the Brazen Bull and I would still say my duty to my country is to defend the whole capital world.”<<
 
“That was coward bullshit when they were in orbit, now they’re here, in the city itself, entirely! Everything I told you was right! You have no excuse now you cocksucking fucknut!”
 
>>“We remain here until the Imperator orders differently.”<< Yassin responded
 
“Are you going to tell you that you let his cousin, his niece, his motherfucking wife burn to death when the Circinans torch the palace? He’s two fucking months away! You leave here now, or when I have crushed the skull of the last Black Warrior, I am continuing on to you.”
 
<<“I will answer to my God and my Imperator, not to you.”>>
 
Yassin cut the connection. Marcus screamed and put his fist through the plaster wall.
 
The power flickered for a moment, then died. The dimmer emergency lights kicked in.
 
“Fuck this. If those coward traitors won’t fight, I’ll do it myself.” Marcus pulled off his headset and threw it at the nearest Legatus. “You! Call every Prefect, every Legatus, every fucking Principes if you have to, and find me someone with the balls to get here. Beg, bribe, threaten, I don’t give a shit, just get them here, or you’re gonna join Yassin on the roasting spit.”
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===Promotion admists a street battle===
The Streets of Alphard
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Captain Josephina O’Leary clung to the makeshift handholds on the back of her brother’s Firestarter as it pulled her squad of battle armor deeper into the city. The fires all around them illuminating her and the other in the waning light of dusk. The Firestarter rushed through the twisting streets of the faux-Roman city towards the Shamrock commander’s Marauder. She and the other three in her squad gave covering fire as they went. It skidded to a halt as just a block away, the Marauder went critical.
The booming voice of Colonel McIntyre filled Josephina O’Leary’s ears. ((“O’Leary! I lost the connection with Major Thomas mid-sentence.”))
 
“He’s gone.”
 
((“The Second Brigade is yours, Captain.”)) ordered Colonel McIntyre 
 
The situation was worse that O’Leary had feared, as that meant Majors Hernandez and Nguyen were also gone. She was prepared for this, they all had been, but it still hurt. She could mourn tomorrow, if she survived. “Second Division! All units report!”
 
“Illyrian People’s Front, the plant here is permanently offline. Boarding assault craft for a run on the palace generators.”
 
“McIntyre Armoured Cavalry, first company bogged down on the Viae Marianus, second is surrounded near the arena, third company is gone.”
 
“Free Worlds Volunteers, we’re holed up with what’s left of the Tormentine Tormentors in the southern district. I’m sorry, I don’t see a way out. We’ll give ‘em a good show for you.”
 
“Zorn Irregulars, just blasted a wave of battle armour on VTOLs coming up from the south. Dropships are picking up more coming in. Do we wait for ‘em or proceed?”
“1st Federal Infantry, have seized Legio Capitoline barracks. They had a few surplus 'mechs in here, we’re taking them for a spin.”
 
The Cerillos Cowboys, brave young fools in herding 'mechs with guns bolted one were notably silent, as were the Black Dogs armoured battalion. She added them to the growing list of irregular forces. The Baltazar Bastards, the 2nd Federal Infantry, the Maximilian Marauders, and who knows how many from the First Brigade.
 
“Zorn, continue, let the Leopards handle the reinforcements. 1st Federal, back up the Armoured Cavalry on the Viae Marianus, blast me a hole to the Capitoline hill.”
 
They are barked their acknowledgement, even the ones she’d be leaving behind. They all knew the target, they all knew the risk, they had all volunteered anyways. Anyone who didn’t was back with the homeworld garrisons, being annihilated one by one by the advancing legions.
She’d rather die here.
 
“Shamrocks! Forward.” Whatever had killed the Major’s Marauder had vanished back into the smoke filled streets, but threats still lurked around every corner. The roads were widening, and the buildings growing taller as they went. She’d seen fights like this before, and so had the Marians. There would be no more mad dashes. She ordered her squad to dismount from her brother’s Firestarter and as the rest of her platoon caught up, they did the same and fanned out and up into the surrounding streets and buildings.
An Ostscout jumped onto a ten story office tower and relayed back sensor reports. Just as she’d feared, an SRM Carrier lay beyond the next intersection, and a company of infantry dug in around it. Certain death if for a Firestarter caught unawares, but easy targets for a Firestarter forewarned, let alone with battle armour support. The Praetorians died bravely under their flamers and machine guns.
 
Then something big hit the office tower, and the Ostscout was consumed in ten stories of pancaking building. Behind the burning SRM Carrier, at least a company of Battle Armour were sweeping through the streets, the tell-tale plumes of their Centurions gleaming in the firelight.
 
“Shamrocks! Forward, for the Federation!”
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===An Passionate plea for sake of Family===
The Imperial Palace
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The palatine hill shook from another attack run by the Circinan aerospace wings. The palace was built to last, but Corvus worried how long even it could last against the bombardment. Even Castles Brian fall, given enough of a pounding. So far, every attack run had focused on the palace itself and ignored the circle of villas in the outer grounds.
 
Gloria did her best to ensure that they continued to ignore it. The moment the Circinans landed, she arrived at the palace and quickly took charge of the Imperial family. All the lights in every villas were turned out and the guards sent away to the palace proper. They huddled together in a single, windowless room around a few candles. When the power flickered and Sinead’s medical equipment reset, it was her steady hand that kept the rest calm.
 
Even with every precaution, he was sure the palace was safer. He assumed that every one of O’Reilly women around him knew as well, but Sinead could not be moved, and the thought never crossed their minds to leave her.
 
Siobhan took it with grace, as she took everything these days. A day spent in a prison of fear was nothing to her compared to her past ordeals. Gloria taught Lucia all sorts of games with cards and dice to keep her distracted. And Sinead sang. Beautiful, haunting songs. He pretended to read, but in truth his mind couldn’t focus at all. It was all he could do to stay calm. Even then, his tics and twitches were ramped up to an intensity beyond even his wedding day. The others were kind enough to pretend not to notice.
 
The roar of something loud, like dropships engines, hummed through the wall. It couldn’t be though? Then an explosion, followed by more, and then the machines that kept Sinead alive began to blink and beep, then blinked out. They waited. The power had gone out before, but the backup power had kicked in. The palace was built to be self-sufficient. Everything would be fine. It had to be.
 
The humming drifted away and the explosions ceased. The silence hung heavy in the air as they wait for the beeps that signalled a reboot. They never came. He could see Lucia begin to panic. Gloria pulled her tight and held her. Sinead was serene. She motioned for Corvus to come close.
 
“Take them inside.” She said.
 
“We c-c-can’t l-leave you.” he said.
 
“You can, you must. I don’t want Lucia to see this.” she urge
 
“I w-w-won’t.”
 
“You will. If you stay, and any harm comes to Lucia. I’ll come back and haunt you to the end of your days and beyond.” she ordered.
 
“N-n-n-” he struggled to spit out another denial. He grabbed her hand and struggled to hide the tears. “I wasn’t there for Vibius, I c-c-can’t leave you t-t-too.”
 
Gloria put a hand on his shoulder. “Your niece needs you. Take her and Siobhan and go. Whoever was out there is gone, but this place isn’t.”
 
“Th-this is m-m-my burden-”
 
“No. This is ours. I may not care for you nor you for me, but I am your wife, and right now, your wife is telling you to go, that she can handle this. Sinead will not be alone. No one cares about me or her, but they do care about you and her daughter. Go! Or I’ll beat you to death with your own cane!”
 
Lucia struggled, cried, kicked, screamed, but together. Corvus and Siobhan wrestled her back to the palace. Here, at least, they might survive. It was a baseless hope, but one he clung to.
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===The Relentless Charge===
Viae Marianus, Approaching the Capitoline Hill
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With every block, the fighting grew fiercer, slower, deadlier. It took a toll on even the greatest of mechwarriors, and one by one, the Black Warriors fell. Where once there had been three battalions, only half their number marched onwards. Somewhere behind them, the McIntyre House Guard was dying in order to clog the streets with their own shattered hulks and take as many of the enemy’s belated reinforcements with them as possible.
 
Forward they waded. His LRMs were long spent. He’d been able to reload his LBX and his SRMs, but the ammo trucks were long lost in the chaos and both were running low again. Worst of all, he was running low on lancemates. Gregor, who he’d known since childhood, gone to a Long Tom artillery shell to the chest. Nadia, dear sweet Nadia, a prodigy in a battlemech and the kindest spirit he’d ever known, ripped from her cockpit by battle armour after her mech had fallen. Min-su, who deserted with him to fight the good fight for the people of Circinus, lost somewhere along the highway, who knows to who or what, he’d simply vanished from comms and sensors.
 
On the Viae Marianus, there was no room for tactics, no cover, just the deep trench cut through the hills for the enormous highway, and the long, sloped walls built for tens of thousands to stand and watch triumphal processions. At least, there had been nothing else a day before. Now, the battered remained the Legio Palatine and the McIntyre Armoured Cavalry dotted the road, smoke billowing up into the night. The whole city was aflame now, and Angus had been lucky to spot the Orion a few hundred metres away through the smoke.
His first volley found their mark, but so did the Orion’s, and it was fresh, and Angus suspected with full ammo bins. He slipped back into the smoke, and guessed. The satisfying clang of the LBX on armour showed another hit. He jammed his mech into reverse with the MASC engaged and popped out right into the Orion’s field of fire; the pilot was smart, and they both took a full alpha strike. Or at least, the best the Rampage could manage. Angus swore as his left arm went spinning away into the darkness. The LRM was empty, but the principle of the thing pissed him off to no end.
 
The two 'mechs danced and hammered away at each other. He spoke the name of a fallen mechwarrior with every volley he fired into the torso of the Orion in front of him. He was getting the better of it, but the day’s worth of damage was telling. His sensors flashed a handful of new signals coming down the Viae from the forum, or the palace beyond.
 
There were more Black Warriors behind him, somewhere, but they might be miles away. The thought of retreat never crossed his mind, as those behind would have to pay with blood to win back the kilometres of highway he’d won.
 
So this is how I die. He thought to himself as he fired his last LBX shot, cracking open the Orion’s armour, but leaving him with nothing to exploit the breach.
Then something appeared from the fog. A mech landed to his left and carved through the Orion with close range laser fire. The Orion stepped backwards, towards its own reinforcements, but stumbled over smashed Demolishers. Angus engaged the MASC and rammed into the Marian with all his might. The two tumbled to the ground together. He held it down as the Grasshopper shredded it to pieces.
 
“Min-su...thank you. I knew you’d never leave me.” But Min-su didn’t respond. Angus struggled to bring his mech back to its feet and looked over the Grasshopper. It was Min-su’s for sure, and nearly as battered as his own mech. The head was trashed, the sensor equipment sheared right off. The comms must be down too. It saluted with a it’s hand and pointed up the street. Angus turned towards the road, and the two continued on towards the forum.
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===In defense of the Palace===
South Slope of the Palatine Hill
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The spaceport, trashed. The arena, destroyed. The barracks of his own legion, humiliatingly captured. Marcus’ legatus had found him two full legions of reinforcements, and even now they were more through the city in tighter and tighter, pushing the Circinans inwards along with the survivors of the Legio Palatine.
 
But as the Circinans were pushed, so too were they pushing the shrinking band of Praetorians ever deeper. Two cohorts of mechs and two of mixed infantry was all that stood between the Circinans and the palace. No Praetorian had ever dishonored themselves by allowing an enemy soldier within sight of the Imperial palace, and now that the Black Warriors stood in the forum which the palace overlooked, he would kill every single Praetorian before allowing a single enemy to reach its walls.
 
He knew the remaining Black Warriors were down there, somewhere, hiding in the ruins of the forum. Soon, they would advance from the Capitoline to the Palatine hill. There, they would die. His cohorts remained in place, silently, waiting. Every minute was a victory, as the reinforcements tightened their net. It felt like an eternity, but Marcus’ anger allowed him to keep his focus.
 
Finally, they came. At least a battalion of the heaviest mechs he’d ever seen in the Periphery. At their head, a mauled Rampage.
 
“Everyone, focus fire on the Rampage!” he ordered.
 
The Praetorians obeyed. The stomping of mechs was drowned out by the whine of dozens of Rotary Autocannons as they spun up to speed. Unmolested by the Praetorians, the rest of the Black Warriors took a heavy toll, but the cost was worth it. The Rampage was shredded by the volley of autocannon rounds. The crackle of an engine going critical replaced the whine of RACs and the Rampage lit up the night in a blinding explosion.
 
“Forward!” Marcus ordered as the massed ranks of Centurions and Marauders pushed down the Palatine Hill towards the forum. They pushed, and pushed, their discipline and fresh mechs forcing the heavier mechs away.
Then something hit him from behind. He fought to keep his Centurion upright, and barely won. He checked his sensors but the readout showed confused static. A PPC? Had one of his own Marauders hit him? The Praetorians were too well trained for that.
 
As he turned his mech to see, a wave of LRMs slammed into his side, accompanied by a warcry of ((“Free Illyria!”)) on open comms.
 
“2nd Cohors! Look to the rear!” He called, leveling his RAC at his new.
 
Unfortunately for the Prefect, that enemy was a trio of Leopard dropships, and the most experienced guerilla fighters in the Periphery. And they were all trained on him. Over a hundred LRMs slammed the Centurion to the ground. Marcus jerked the controls, but the mech didn’t respond. He pulled the eject, but nothing happened. He screamed and raged until a figure in battle armor ripped off the cockpit’s hatch and pulled him out.
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===Search for the Imperator===
East Slope of the Palatine Hill
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Josephina sat on the ruined Firestarter, slowly rocking back and forth with the body of her brother in her arms. She wished she could throw off her armour and hold her poor, sweet William, flesh to flesh, one final time. Around them lay the charred bodies of an entire century of infantry and battle armour. The surviving Fighting Shamrocks let her. They knew they had to press onwards, to the next terrace of Senatorial villas, but after twelve hours of terror, they needed the rest as much as she did.
 
Too soon for most, she turned her attention upwards and gave the command to jump. The last company of battle armor and their last lance of mechs leapt up, expecting violence. They found none. The positions were abandoned, though the sound of combat echoed from the street above.
 
“Shamrocks in position below the palace. Who’s left?” She was met by static.
 
Someone had to be left, someone was still fighting above. She switched channels to talk to the dropships. “Does anyone have eyes on the Palatine Hill? Who’s still fighting?”
 
Finally, a voice responded. (<“This is Illyrian Dropship Jörmungandr. The People’s Front has taken heavy losses and is retiring to orbit. Secondary target Consul-Prefect Gibson has been captured.”)>
 
“No one else made it?”
 
“Someone’s still fighting down there. Looks like Black Warriors. The Colonel is down, don’t know who's running the show now. ”
 
She switched back to the Shamrock’s channel. “One more jump, and we’re in the palace. The Black Warriors have the Praetorians occupied and Gibson is our prisoner. We’re the last chance the Federation has to catch the Imperator. Jump behind, and with the luck of the Irish, they won’t notice us until we’re through the gates.”
 
If Josephina had studied her history, she’d have known the luck of the Irish had led to centuries of occupation, uprising, and starvation. It was that luck which landed his company in the midst of the Praetorian’s fighting withdrawal to the palace.
 
The surprise was total, but the Praetorians overwhelming. Josphenia carved her way through the melee and jumped over the palace walls to the atrium. “Shamrocks, on me!” She called as she barreled deeper into the palace. The Atrium began to fill with the Ceremonial Guard, the most elite Marian infantry and the Imperator’s personal guard. Behind, the gate was collapsing, and soon 'mechs and battle armor would storm in behind them.
 
“Forward, Shamrocks! If the Guard is here, the Imperator is close!” She charged forward and towards the Guard. It would cost lives, but no matter how well trained, mere infantry couldn’t stand up to Battle Armor. They might only have second left. She fired until her machine gun was empty, then jumped and slammed her armoured foot into the face of a Marian. She grabbed his rifle and kept going. She blasted through the next set of with her last grenade and charged out into the gardens.
 
But found it empty.
 
She looked around and saw only a handful of Shamrocks with her. “Ensign! Where are my 'mechs?”
 
<<“The Praetorians are through the gate, Captain! We’re staying here to keep them back. Finish the mission.”>>
 
There was no time to argue. But where to go? The Imperator’s mech hadn’t been sighted so he must be here somewhere. If he’d been in the War Room deep beneath the palace, then his Guard would be there too. His chambers with his wife? Maybe. That, or in his throne room fiddling with himself while his city burned.
 
It was a roll of the dice, but It always paid to think the least of a Marian.
 
She led the remnants of her people towards the throne room. Some stray shots had already ruined the halles. The Guard were dug deeply into the rubble, but she charged on. Something hit her in the gut, knocking her to the ground. She felt numb, but knew something was wrong. She felt around and found a chunk of her armour missing on her right side. Her hand came back covered in blood. She fumbled around for a rifle and used it to push herself up. She stumbled with her makeshift crutch towards the giant double doors.
 
All around her, the last of the Guard and Shamrocks fought and died, ignoring her for more obvious threats. The massive door was already in splinters. She pushed on it with all of her might and it slowly creaked open. She screamed as a row of shots tore up her back. This time she stayed upright. She turned her head to see a Guard reloading her rifle, then one of her men slam her down with an armoured fist.
 
She crawled deeper into the throne room, the cavernous darkness hiding her from the melee behind. The throne had been knocked to the foot of the dias. Behind it covered the Imperator and a trio of women. With her last ounce of strength, she grabbed the man and lifted him.
 
But instead of the Imperator, she saw the terrified face of someone else. She cried out in anguish. How many had been lost to get to this point? Her knees gave out and she and the man collapsed to the ground. “Where is the Imperator?” She whipped the rifle around in her rage, and only then did she recognize the man. Corvus O’Reilly-Logan.
 
The man lay there with his hands up, failing to stammer out a response. One of the women behind yelled. “Algenib!”
 
Algenib? Months away? The wheels turned in her head, maybe the luck of the Irish had been with her after all.
 
“You, Corvus! As regent of the Marian Hegemony, I, Captain Josephina O’Leary, as a duly elected Deputy of the Circinus Federation offer on the behalf of the Federation a ceasefire, and terms for the peaceful end to the war.”
 
Corvus nodded furiously and called to the Guard outside to throw down their weapons.
 
Josephina laughed as she collapsed in front of the fallen throne.
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ICHaFBI 13