OPREF Chpt 1

=Chapter 1 - Dealer’s Choice=
==Opalescent Reflections==
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Dedicated to
Peter Maurice Hayman
1941-2023
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===The appointment===
Hilton Head, North America
Terra, Sol System
8 July 3046
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The Primus’ offices felt like even more of a prison than the Kathmandu Castle Brian. If Wei Rong was very well behaved then she might be allowed out to enjoy the beaches of Hilton Head for a couple of hours. Technically, she could have overruled that, but there were so many polite and well-reasoned arguments made by the staff…
At least she’d managed to win the argument that the white robes of the Primus could be kept for formal occasions, so she was able to wear something lighter for most of her office hours. The robes still hung in a sideroom though. Waiting. Knowing she’d have to give up and wear them sometimes.
She should probably have worn them for this meeting, since it might become somewhat formal. On the other hand she hadn’t done so for the previous meeting of this nature and the reactions had told her useful things about those she was meeting.
“Your 10am guests are here, Primus,” one of the small horde of polite young men running the office let her know. She’d have suspected Myndo of ulterior motives in having them, but none of them flirted back even a little. She was probably going to replace them as well, just so she didn’t feel like an outsider in her own office.
“Send them in,” Wei said and left the desk to go to the seats at the other side of the room. Two semi-circles of couches, surrounded on three sides by views of the sunny South Carolina coast outside. Piped in from cameras - the office was surrounded on all sides by layers of protection.
The door opened and her guests entered - both wearing Adept’s robes with the hoods thrown back. One robe was too crisp to have been worn much - carefully stored or bought for the occasion, Wei Rong thought. Having seen their profile pictures, she recognized Andrew Norris. The Sandhurst teacher was taller than the second man, whose robes suggested he wore them regularly.
“Primus,” Norris greeted her, bowing his head politely. Joe Murphy followed suite, glancing at her and then the vacant desk.
“Please, be seated.” She gestured towards the couch facing her.
The two men didn’t exchange looks, but there was some definite hesitation before Murphy took a seat, sinking into the cushions. Norris sat more towards the edge.
“You’re not in trouble,” she told them. “If this was disciplinary, we’d be elsewhere.” Omicron and Psi divisions were still leaderless and she’d been cherrypicking transfers to keep them that way. Internal security might matter, but some of the files she’d had to review when she took over at Canopus IV were stomach-churning, and Psi’s spiritual purity advisors had been little more than Waterly’s inquisitors. “This is in the nature of a job interview.”
“Both of us at once?” Murphy asked in bemusement.
“I’m very busy and we have a lot of positions to fill.” Wei said ruefully. She’d be less busy when some of the jobs were settled - she was having to at least oversee the people handling the responsibilities of the Precentors who’d died the previous month until she had appointed formal replacements. Ideally she’d have just been able to approve the people stepping up, but approval wasn’t her sentiment in many cases. And then there had to be justification to do something other than advance them…
It would have cut into her sleep, but in the interests of sanity, Wei had kept a rigid nightly schedule.
“I didn’t think there was a vacancy for tech-support here.” Murphy glanced at the desk with its holographic displays sitting idle. It was a logical guess - he was one of the senior tech-admin staff in Kappa’s Pacific North-West offices, keeping the medical division’s systems going.
Wei shook her head. “We’ll get to that. Now, unless I’ve got your files mixed up, you both started in the ComGuards didn’t you?”
“Yes, Primus,” confirmed Norris. “Twenty years in HPG security before I got tapped for teaching at Sandhurst seven years ago.”
“Part of Precentor-Martial Focht’s expansion efforts, and better use of your military history degree,” she confirmed. “Serving mostly at HPG stations in the Draconis Combine?”
“Exclusively,” he admitted. “We go where we’re sent, but it’s nice to be back on Terra.”
Too bad for him, Wei thought. “So you have a basis for comparison of the ComGuards before Primus Waterly appointed the Precentor Martial. How do you feel about the changes he made?”
“I’m very pleased, Primus. The new acolytes we’re sending out are better prepared for their duties now than they were before he was brought in. That’s not a small feat, given we’re training at least ten times as many of them as we used to.”
It wasn’t quite fanatical, she thought… but if she took the words at face value then he was one of Focht’s loyalists. Perhaps he was just trying too hard though. And given how many staff she’d met from Combine stations that toed Waterly’s hardline positions… well, that might be why he’d been happy to go to Sandhurst. “And you?” Wei asked Murphy.
“Uh, ten years of Ix - uh, Iota-Xi.”
“I’m familiar with the term,” she allowed. ComStar’s Jumpship and Dropship security teams. What were traditionally called marines in most military forces. “A lot of traveling the stars?”
The shaven-headed man shrugged. “I saw more of them than of planets for a while. Then back here for a course to transition to Zeta -” Meaning a ComGuards technician. “But there was an opening for techs here and at the time we were under ROM so transferring wasn’t as big a jump as I think it is now.”
“A relief to have steady gravity?” she asked, thinking back to the long transit back from Canopus IV for the ill-fated conclave.
“It’s hard on my knees.”
“You’re both being considered for positions off Terra,” Wei told them. “Filling vacant postings means moving a lot of people around. Will that conflict with your family situations.”
Murphy just shook his head. Norris looked like he’d bitten a lemon. “I’m already in a long-distance relationship,” he allowed. “Adding more distance wouldn’t be ideal, but we go where we’re sent.”
If it was the woman mentioned in his file, then he might find this preferable. Although he still wouldn’t be in the same star system as the doctor he’d been in steady, if infrequent, contact with. “Your sacrifice is noted,” Wei said and then winced as the man’s face tightened at what could have been sarcasm. “I mean that sincerely,” she clarified.
“Could I ask where you’re planning to send me?” Murphy asked her politely, obviously trying to take the pressure off the man next to him. Was that institutional loyalty? She didn’t think that they’d met before now.
“In your case, Tharkad. Even colder than your current posting.”
“Oh. Tech-admin for the new Precentor there?” The technician smiled. “I heard Atreus and New Avalon had been appointed, I guess the other First Circuit seats are decided.”
“Very nearly. So what does the rumor mill say about the first appointees?”
The two men both backed up visibly at that question. “I’ve never crossed paths with either of them,” Murphy said.
“Precentor Tiger Lily is said to be very attached to her conservation work here on Terra,” added Norris cautiously. “It’s surprised some people that she’d be be willing to leave.”
“A new world and new opportunities,” Wei told them. “Terra has had centuries to recover from the scars left by Amaris. Other worlds have seen far more recent warfare. From Atreus she’ll have the chance to oversee conservation efforts across the Free Worlds League.”
Murphy frowned. “I did… gather that Precentor Buckley had been serving in the Free Worlds League, I’m not clear why he was sent to New Avalon not to Atreus.”
Wei forced a smile, despite less than fond recollections of the man in question. “The size of the Federated Suns means we lost rather a lot of Precentors stationed there in the recent unpleasantness. I wanted someone with his seniority there.”
Joseph Buckley was one of Myndo Waterly’s not-so-little club - Dieron-Toyamists, as Wei mentally labeled them. He might have spent the last decade and change in the Free Worlds League, but he’d started out under Waterly’s leadership when she was Precentor Dieron, then been sent to the Free Worlds League after Thomas Marik quit the order to become the acting Captain-General. Putting the man on the same planet as the New Avalon Institute of Science - one of Waterly’s chief fixations - felt like a bad idea, but with a bit of luck he’d be too busy fighting with the appointees of his predecessor to cause many problems.
Tiger Lily - her homeworld didn’t use family names, for some reason Wei didn’t care about - was more moderate and might be able to rein in the local fanatics a bit. Marik was the most favorable House Lord to ComStar and he’d had to put up with enough trouble from Demona Aziz already. Someone steadier on Atreus would probably be welcome.
Neither of the men facing Wei disagreed with her openly. She was sure they’d get past that.
“My predecessor had an acrimonious relationship with the Great Houses,” Wei admitted. “That was unavoidable with the movement towards a more active ComStar presence - it’s hard to make reforms and friends at the same time. Now that she’s established our Order’s new position, I hope to soothe those tensions without losing the gains made - let the people of the Inner Sphere see that ComStar is providing services and support to them, in ways that the Great Houses can’t while they’re focused on fighting each other.”
“And if they stop fighting?” asked Norris. “Unlikely as that seems,” he added wryly.
“Then we can hopefully help them transition from war to peace without a rupture on the scale of the Reunification War,” answered Wei. The formation of the Star League and end - for a few generations - of conflict between the Great Houses had simply turned the bloodshed out into the Periphery, marks of which she’d seen on Canopus IV even centuries after the Star League had vanished. “Jerome Blake hoped that ComStar would one day oversee a restoration of peace, and while I don’t see the prospects of a restored Star League as likely, that is our long term goal.”
“And if the Federated Commonwealth conquers everyone?” asked Murphy.
She made a face. “Back when I first joined ComStar, that seemed like a real possibility. The problems Hanse Davion and Melissa Steiner-Davion have faced make it clear that ruling even the worlds they do is a challenge. If they do succeed, then we’ll need to carve out a role in administering the Inner Sphere - a role that House Steiner-Davion can’t easily displace us from.”
Norris shook his head. “I can’t see Hanse Davion tolerating our independence.”
“Then perhaps his heir can be persuaded to take a more understanding view.” Wei considered that the heir of the Federated Commonwealth was reportedly heading for New Avalon to spend a year at the Institute of Science there, as part of his ongoing education. Hopefully he wouldn’t run into Joseph Buckley while he was on his father’s homeworld. Victor Steiner-Davion supposedly had more interest in the military than in court politics.
She considered the two men facing her. Also military in their origins within the Order. Hopefully their promotions would persuade Focht that she was sympathetic to the ComGuards. And neither seemed prone to extremism - the Blessed Order didn’t need more of the paranoia that had caused so much bloodshed.
And utterly pointlessly, as far as she could tell. Waterly’s purpose in calling the conclave hadn’t been been for any sort of purge - although she and a few other Precentors would have been shuffled out to Class B stations. The goal had been more for Waterly to have a grand display of the support of ComStar’s precentors for her position, with formal ceremonies to cement her position on Terra.
Instead, it had killed the Primus and tens of thousands of others. Although given the teeming billions of Terra, the blip in death statistics had been no worse than a bad traffic day.
“I hope you’ll keep those ideas in mind in your new stations, Precentors,” she said out loud.
Norris’ eyes widened slightly. Murphy blinked. “I’m an adept, Primus,” he said, indicating his robes.
“Not any more, Precentor Tharkad.”
“Is this a joke?”
“I said much the same when Precentor Focht told me that I’d become Primus.” Wei told him.
“I’ve never run an HPG station!”
“You run a department that has more staff than our entire presence on Tharkad,” the Primus pointed out. “The administration shouldn’t be a problem for you.”
“I’m not a diplomat!”
Wei nodded. “That should make you stand out. The Lyran court is full of smooth-talking politicians and businessmen. A precentor who’s there to keep things running and not get dragged into that is exactly what I want. And the Archon may learn to appreciate a more direct approach. Ideally, you can convince her - or her son - that we don’t have to be enemies.”
“I’d say rather you than me,” Norris muttered, looking at the man next to him, “But I have a horrible idea about what my own posting is.”
“I’m sending you to Luthien,” she told him. “Traditionally, our Precentor-Advocate to the Draconis Combine has been stationed on Dieron rather than their capital but I don’t think the reasons for that hold up any more.” It also let her shift the focus of administering the HPG stations across the Combine out of Waterly and Mori’s stronghold.
The teacher groaned. “May I ask ‘why me?’”
“You’re a poet and a swordsman,” she told him. “Takashi Kurita respects both those things, and his son would rather deal with soldiers. Waterly had a lot of dealings with Theodore Kurita, but they seem to have clashed personally even if their political goals aligned.”
Including shipments of arms that made a joke of ComStar’s neutrality (the idea Hanse Davion couldn’t guess where over a thousand Star League-era battlemechs had come from was laughable), and had emptied stockpiles that the ComGuards could have made good use of with their expansion.
“As I understand it, you don’t plan to prop them up against the Davions if there’s another war?” asked the new Precentor Luthien.
“Not in the same way, no. But let’s be honest, Kappa does more medical work for civilians in the Combine than they do in all the other Successor States combined. Things like that are freeing up their resources for military affairs, whether we intend it or not.”
The historian frowned. “And that’s how you want us to be elsewhere.”
“We’re not just the heirs of the Ministry of Communications,” Wei told him. “We’re also what’s left of the Star League Defense Forces and the Bureau of Star League Affairs. Overthrowing their governments isn’t my intention, but if the Successor Lords are so negligent that we wind up replacing them by default then that’s their problem.”
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===Analysing shifting sands of ComStar===
Imperial City, Luthien
Pesht District, Draconis Combine
2 August 3046
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“I hope,” Minoru’s father said, “That you can tell me more about ComStar’s new Primus than the ISF could.”
Fortunately for the fifteen year old, he wasn’t the one being asked that. His father had quasi-invited him (an order in all but name) to sit in on the meeting. It was a learning experience for him, necessary for the third in line to the Dragon throne - even if he could think of many other things he’d rather be doing before his departure for Sun Zhang Military Academy, on distant New Samarkand.
The only thing Minoru Kurita could have told his father about Primus Wei Rong, other than her name and office, was that even the robes of the Primus didn’t disguise a figure that belonged in adult entertainment. And he was fairly sure that Theodore Kurita, the Gunji-no-Kanrei of the Draconis Combine (deputy for military affairs, an innocuous term for the supreme military commander of the nation) had noticed those. That.
Constance Kurita - a cousin of sorts who had been ‘Auntie’ when Minoru was younger - smiled and lifted her tea cup. “Unfortunately, the recent upheaval in ComStar has reduced our access to information within the Order.”
“Was that the goal?” Theodore asked sharply.
The Keeper of House Honor shook her head slightly. “I think it is unlikely. ROM lacks the subtlety of the ISF - whereas Subhash’s people would trim and cultivate an enemy spy network to report only what he desired, ComStar’s policy is always root them out thoroughly.” Constance sipped from her cup. “Our presence is reduced, but not eliminated - and the pattern of losses does not suggest that they missed connections linking our agents. It appears to be an unfortunate happenstance.”
Minoru’s father nodded. “That’s something.”
“And we do have some information. I imagine the ISF did mention that she isn’t from Terra.”
“New Canton.”
Minoru needed a moment to place the world. It had been on the Capellan border with the Free Worlds League for decades, only to fall unexpectedly to the Federated Suns invasion in 3028. Or 3029… he wasn’t sure which year exactly. It wasn’t that important a world strategically. What else did he know…? “Wasn’t there a massacre there during the invasion.”
His father frowned for a moment. “Yes. Davion mercenaries murdered several defeated Liao soldiers before AFFS regulars stopped them. It damaged the Screaming Eagles’ reputation severely - there’s some thought Davion staged it to win the world’s populace over. Casting his soldiers as their protectors…” He made a dismissive gesture. “It’s not beyond him, but I doubt the mercenaries would have willingly seen themselves disgraced.”
“While it may or may not have endeared the Fox to the people of New Canton, the event does not seem to have convinced young Rong Wei that her future lay with the Federated Commonwealth,” Constance mused. “She joined ComStar three years later, when she was just sixteen.”
“That would make her younger than Waterly was when she took office,” mused Theodore, lifting his own teacup. “Ambitious? Driven? The ISF said as much but had nothing to back it up.” he paused. “Rong Wei, not Wei Rong?”
“For ComStar purposes, she conforms with the wider usage of placing her family name last but New Canton’s custom is the more traditional order of placing family first.”
Even we don’t do that, nor do the Liaos, thought Minoru. House Kurita and House Liao both traced their ancestry to Asia, where that tradition had been most common.
“In answer to your question,” Constance continued, “We think not. She earned two doctorates in rapid succession - psychology and history - which marked her out for advancement. By the age of twenty-three she was a Precentor, which is certainly a rapid rise, but our sources suggest that she wasn’t being considered for further advancement.”
“Why not?” asked Minoru curiously. That was a spectacular rise, by his understanding of ComStar’s hierarchy.
“Personal clashes and political differences with Waterly,” his cousin told him. “Waterly apparently had high hopes for her, but their first meeting went very poorly. The late Primus represented the religious side of ComStar, and their traditional rivals have always held the view that ComStar should concern themselves more with the commercial side of their business. Rong was not in sympathy with that view, but it seems she also disagreed with Waterly. It appears her view of ComStar is more of a socialist one - pragmatic socialism, but socialism nonetheless. She’s also a New Hedonist.”
Minoru had no idea what that meant and it must have shown.
“Drink, fuck and be happy, tomorrow we may die.” his father clarified. “A very popular view in the Magistracy of Canopus - is that why she was sent there?”
“Precisely. The position had fallen vacant unexpectedly, and Precentor Mori suggested assigning Rong there - a round peg for a round hole, not to mention putting her as far as was practical from Terra. Waterly wasn’t willing to embarrass herself by dismissing Rong without any cause and investigation hadn’t turned anything up…”
“So she’s either kept her hands clean or she’s very good…” mused Theodore. “You don’t believe that she orchestrated the entire coup.”
“She’d have had to be playing a very deep game and there’s no signs that she has a cadre of prepared people to support her,” Constance concluded. “It’ll be fascinating to see how long she lasts as Primus - I wouldn’t be at all surprised if she stood down after the politics have stabilized. There’s no clear successor as things stand though.”
“ComStar in disarray doesn’t really help us,” the Gunji-no-Kanrei muttered. “Waterly held her nose when she helped us, but it was better than no support at all.”
Minoru also frowned in thought. “How long can she last if she has no supporters within ComStar?”
“She isn’t entirely isolated. Focht backs her, so she has a preponderance of military might. While Focht could probably have swayed some of the ComGuards against their commander, right now he has nearly exclusive backing from them. And he’d not wish to lose another Primus under his watch.”
Theodore nodded. “Agreed.”
“Certain of my analysts have suggested that she may be a figurehead for the Precentor-Martial,” Constance added. “I am… unconvinced, but it would be difficult for him to step directly in as Primus. There is no tradition of electing someone who hasn’t headed an HPG station, and usually from within the First Circuit. Rong is already an outlier in the latter regard.”
Minoru glanced at his father but saw that Theodore was amused. “Those analysts cannot know Focht then. Such a strategy would not fit his character.”“You know him?”
Both the elders looked at Minoru in a way that made it clear that this was not something to explore further, then his father relaxed. “I recommended him to Waterly - knowing he would never be an ally to me but might serve our interests well in propping up her ambitions for a more powerful ComGuards. He is very much what your grandfather thought of me when he appointed me as Gunji-no-Kanrei: a military mind without political aptitudes. Focht is an object lesson that I try not to emulate.”
“And yet, you have made your office political,” he pointed out. “Is it possible that Focht has learned the same lesson.”
Theodore sat back and examined Minoru. “Unlikely,” he said at last, but glanced over at Constance. “But all things are possible to some degree. My son makes a good point.”
“And her choices for the First Circuit do reflect greater status for the ComGuards - two of them have experience there.” She looked thoughtful. “It is possible they are being groomed as replacements if she is intractable. I don’t believe it’s likely, but we will look into it.”
“In the meantime, I have instructed the ISF to see what Justin Xiang Allard uncovers about the new Primus,” Theodore observed. “Hanse Davion must be even more curious about her, so we will let his spymaster do the work of digging up data for us. Let any consequences of such investigation fall on our enemies, not on us.”
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===Trial of Position===
Callandra, Babylon
Pentagon Worlds, Clan Homeworlds
21 December 3046
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“Neg.” The young woman gave him a measuring look and then shook her head. “I do not trust you, Ace.”
Chris had never expected the misunderstanding over his name to last but Blake Hawker had put it on his official report, and Chris hadn’t the least idea how or if that could be changed. So now he was Ace. It took some getting used to.
“Have I given you cause to think I would betray you, Val?”
She shrugged. “There are members of our sibko who I am quite sure would turn on me if I accepted the offer to turn our Trial of Position into a melee, but you are not one of them.”
“Then…”
“But you are also not one of those I am sure would not see me as an easy target to get one kill. You have only been training with us for half a year.” Val shrugged. “And your performance has not been impressive. Even if you did not turn on me, you might prove to be a liability. I see no point in taking the risk.”
Ace crossed his arms across his chest. “I have killed warriors before.”
She gave him another look. “Your past as a bandit does not speak for your integrity.”
“None of us choose our birth!”
“Enough,” Val snapped. “I have declined your bid. Be glad I even heard you out.”
He clamped his jaw. “Very well. I hope you regret it.”
“I am sure you do,” she retorted at his back as Ace walked away and continued doing his stretches. They were the last pair from their sibko to take their Trial, waiting in a small building as the remains of the previous duo were removed.
Physically removed. Apparently, both Clyde and Falko had died in their ‘mechs. Falko was the only one who had managed to score a kill, before his second opponent hit the cockpit. Clyde hadn’t even done that well.
At least, Ace thought, those two had managed to get to their ‘mechs. That was the final stage of the trial, but just to get to it the Diamond Sharks required cadets to swim across a river. Antonia, a girl he’d hoped to be paired with hadn’t reached the other side - word had been sent beforehand to settlements downstream to watch out for cadets who were washed away, in case they survived.
Ace couldn’t help but think that having even two Elementals in the water would have ensured the survival of Antonia and those like her. She was a smart girl - she’d even given him some pointers on where to find the books he needed to fill gaps in his understanding of what was being talked about in class, in exchange for his help in the workshop classes - Antonia had sometimes had difficulty translating her theoretical understanding of subjects into reality. He didn’t think she’d make a good technician even if she survived. She certainly wasn’t going to get warrior status now.
Inhaling slowly, he held the breath in and let it pass out. Felt his heartbeat steady.
This was not the time to be thinking about others. This was his Trial of Position. The chance he’d bet everything on, to be a warrior in Clan Diamond Shark.
To be a warrior at all - because this was the only chance he could see since they attacked that would let him hold onto that.
Get across the river. Win against one of the three opponents waiting… and he’d be a warrior.
Two victories would be better - he’d be able to rank as a Star Commander. Not a common accomplishment for those not bred in the iron wombs.
And if he made a clean sweep of them… Star Captain. Almost as high as it was plausible to rise - and to do so on your first Trial was an exceptional accomplishment.
Truthfully, he hungered for that. To leap up and show the Diamond Sharks that he wasn’t just a bandit who had lucked into their ranks. To have their respect… or at least their fear.
But one thing at a time. Each step from here to there was a simple one and had little impact on the next. Oh, he’d want to avoid damage if he could to be better able to beat the next opponent, but taking damage you could avoid was never wise anyway.
The river. Get past that first. If he was swept away… well, too bad. If not, then he could worry about fighting.
There was a slam as the door to the room was opened. “It is time,” Instructor Baracus declared flatly. “Step outside.”
Val was at the door first. Ace didn’t contest her for the ‘honor’ of exiting first, squaring his shoulders and then following her outside.
It was cold - they were in the north of Babylon and the local season matched very closely with the Terran standard season - based, for reasons Ace hadn’t been able to find out, on the northern hemisphere. There were no trees near the river, the local vegetation was little different from that at the training camp further to the south - mostly moss and low shrubs that could resist the heavy winds. Ace’s jumpsuit kept him fairly warm, but his cheeks and hands already stung a little in the wind.
Baracus studied them for a moment. “You have been briefed on what to do,” he reminded them. “But not why. Diamond Sharks are not merely killers - we must also think and calculate. To understand the data in our possession. Tell me, Val. Why do we require freeborn cadets to swim like this, when trueborn warriors do not?”
“Because we are not trueborn. By taking a place in the touman, we deny a trueborn the chance to prove their worth for the next generation. We must prove ourselves better.”
The old warrior gave no indication whether he agreed or disagreed. He just turned to Ace. “You have had less time to prepare. Are you afraid?”
“Yes,” he said honestly.
Val spat on the ground but Baracus shrugged. “Most freeborn are. But what are you afraid of?”
Ace gave him a challenging look. “Failure.”
“Not death.” The instructor concluded. “This is a poor test for you. The cold of the river is to give cadets a taste of death, before they face that in the trial by combat. But you have felt death already, as most of our trueborn cadets do. We tell them less of what they will face in the trial, to make them face the unknown - as freeborn cadets have already done by entering the warrior caste.”
“Is that a problem?”
“Neg.” Baracus smiled for the first time, white teeth against his black skin. “Clan law dictates only the trial between warriors. The rest is custom. All Clans have their own ways.” He raised his hand and waved towards the river. “You may begin.”
Ace blinked, but Val darted for the water.
“Are you giving up?” Baracus asked him calmly.
Ace broke into a run, chasing after Val and swearing inside his head. Why were there always mind-games?
By the time he reached the water, the other cadet was already knee deep and splashing out to the point that she would be able to swim. The first step into the river had water soak into Ace’s boot, chilling him already. He slowed from a run to a deliberate walk. He hadn’t watched the others’ tests, just heard the results, but just looking at the river he could tell it would have a shallower shore on this side and get deep further on. Falling here would probably mean a painful impact with the stoney riverbed.
Val dove forwards and began swimming, a fast crawl over the width of the river. Ace kept wading, keeping upright as long as he could, hoping the better traction against the riverbed - as well as having his upper body out of the cold water - would pay off.
Unfortunately this didn’t seem to be the case and the gap widened and widened until, the water almost up to his own arm-pits, Val caught hold of a shrub on the far bank and started pulling herself up and out of the river. She’d been swept fifty or so yards down the river, but she’d made it.
I’ve lost the race, Ace thought coldly, almost as cold as the water around him. Alright. Don’t make a fuss, accept it and move on. I don’t have to win to pass, I just need to get across. We’re not being timed.
He looked across the river at the two omnimechs that were waiting. Low-slung Novas - turned back on so that he couldn’t see their armament from here. Older omnimechs, but nonetheless omnimechs. The Diamond Sharks did not stint in giving cadets the chance to prove themselves with frontline equipment, even if freeborn warriors might never get another chance at using them.
Then Ace dug his toes in, pushed himself forward and rolled over onto his back. The river had already been tugging him downstream, now he had no traction to block that - only the pressure against his left side so that he knew roughly what direction he was going on.
Not being able to see anything but the sky was disorientating, but his limited swimming experience had taught him that this was the best way to keep his mouth above the water, leaving him able to gulp down air. Drinking the cold river water if he got his timing wrong while swimming face forwards would be disastrous.
The entire process was disorientating, and he felt himself going numb as he kicked his legs and sculled with his arms, trying to angle himself against the current. He had no idea how long it took before his hands hit mud and came away with a handful of soft, wet soil.
Ace rolled again, settled down on his knees and then almost rolled again as the river kept pushing at him. He threw his arms out, grabbed for something - anything - on the bank and dug his hands into the mud. Eventually, with what seemed like herculean effort, he dragged himself up and out of the water.
Lying on the grassy bank, he panted for air. No rush, was there?
Or was there? Presumably they wouldn’t wait forever. He’d get up in a moment.
Just a moment.
He’d catch his breath and…
With a groan he threw his legs to one side and rode that moment up to get onto his front. Arms down, push himself upright and Ace was moving again.
One of the Novas was already in motion. Val had got even further ahead of him. He could see the ‘mech’s arms now - each ended in an articulated hand, surrounded by half-a-dozen muzzles. A Nova Prime - the most common payload. Twelve medium lasers - enough firepower to tear through the frontal armor of almost anything on the battlefield, if you could concentrate the firepower. Much like the Hunchback IIC he’d fought, it prioritized firepower - but using all twelve lasers at once would overwhelm the cooling system, almost surely shutting down the reactor. That meant a choice between using only a few lasers at a time or making sure that your barrage was truly decisive.
He scrambled up the slope towards the other Nova. It would have to be another variant, there would be no point presenting a choice if there wasn’t a difference. Not that he had a choice in whether or not he took it.
No hands, he realized as he reached the ‘mech. Each arm ended in a single muzzle - and they were both relatively short and stubby - so it was the next most common configuration, the Nova A with an Extended Range PPC in each arm. The torso would have a pulse laser for back-up, but more importantly it had a pair of anti-missile system.
“Thanks, Val,” he gasped out, leaning against the leg. The Prime configuration was the ideal for a Clan warrior, with effectively three times the firepower… but if he’d had the choice then he’d rather have the A-configuration. The extra range would be useful, and the anti-missile systems would be useful for survivability. Important if he managed to fight through more than one opponent.
Still dripping mud, Ace pulled himself up the handholds built into the leg, careful not to slip, and hauled himself up to the cockpit hatch. Fortunately it had been left open for him. Or for Val, if she’d chosen this.
He almost tumbled into the seat, landing with his feet up on the inactive consoles. Drawing them back, Ace straightened himself and started plugging the coolant cables and medical sensors in. It wouldn’t be a good idea to mix them up - firing two Extended Range PPCs would be brutal in terms of heat, so having coolant fluid cycling through his mechwarrior jumpsuit’s tiny capillaries was vital.
Of course, until he had some heat going, the sensation of cold liquid, thicker than it would be when warm, pressed against him was alarmingly like the swim. Ace thumbed the reactor switch and pulled on the neurohelmet, much lighter than the one he’d used in his mother’s Griffin. Tightening the chin-strap, he could see systems lighting up one after the other on the diagnostics.
<{“Reactor, online,”}> the computer reported. <{“Sensors, online.”}> A tactical map popped up, icons marking in red the opposition prepared for he and Val. Five in red… where was the sixth? Then he realised that there was no blue marker for the other cadet. Had she been defeated already? In that case, she must have managed one kill - if she was alive then she had her desire: she was a warrior. <{“Weapons online,”}> the automated voice reported. And then: <{“All systems, nominal.”}>
The controls were live in Ace’s hands and he kicked the Nova into motion, feeling the heat of the reactor beneath and behind him, the chill of the coolant fading as it reached something closer to his body-temperature.
Two of the five enemy ‘mechs were withdrawing - presumably Val’s opponents. In the absence of a general melee, they would play no further role. That left him facing a Thresher, a Stormcrow and a Wyvern. Two battlemechs and an Omnimech. The Wyvern was the lightest, slower than the Nova, almost as well armored and with a mixed armament useful at almost every range. It was also moving forwards, clearly nominating itself as his first adversary.
That was customary, but Ace guessed that the Stormcrow would be the most dangerous of the three. If he was going to fight any of them with his full armor, then the fast, deadly omnimech would be the one. And right now, holding back it wasn’t really taking him seriously. After all, the Wyvern was the one he had to fight first.
But until shots were exchanged, that wasn’t established. Under zellbrigen, the traditional code of conduct for Clan warriors, there was still a chance for Ace to impose his own order on the battlefield. Opening the throttle, he pushed the Nova forwards suddenly, disrupting the Wyvern’s attempt to get a weapons lock on him. The Stormcrow didn’t react immediately, perhaps feeling that it didn’t have to - he was still outside what was normally considered effective range for their weapons.
But effective range and actual reach were two different things - particularly against someone who wasn’t taking evasive action. Ace dialed up the magnification of his visual display and moved the crosshairs over the bird-like Omnimech’s cockpit - conveniently near its centre of mass.
He fired each of the ER PPCs as it crossed the mark, two beams of blazing charged particles crossing the distance to the enemy OmniMech in a fraction of a second.
One of the beams missed, sizzling past the Stormcrow with less than a meter to spare.
But the other hit right on the frontal canopy. At this range it had dispersed and the energy transfer was only sixty or seventy percent of its full power…
But that was more than enough to sear through the armor glass and incinerate the mechwarrior inside.
“One down,” Ace muttered to himself as the Stormcrow toppled gracefully over. The air inside the cockpit was warm, but it was nothing compared to what the Griffin he was accustomed to had subjected him to.
<{“Inbound missiles,”}> the computer reported dispassionately, and he heard the anti-missile systems chatter, hurling flechettes up and at the inbound warheads. Explosions wreathed the Nova briefly as the Wyvern engaged him, but most of them were missiles detonating short of him. Of more concern was the Wyvern’s large laser, which carved a trench across one shoulder. The armor diagram went from the green of undamaged to orange in an instant - one more hit there of that magnitude would likely cause serious damage.
Ace slammed his feet down on the jumpjets, hurling the Nova skywards on a column of fire. To spare himself some heat, he only fired the right-most PPC, firing down at an angle at the Wyvern, which was swinging sideways to try to evade return fire from the ground.
The shot didn’t connect with the head-mounted cockpit, sparing the mechwarrior the death his comrade had suffered. But it did smash into the Wyvern’s right shoulder, shattering armor plating from the joint right down to the elbow. The arm jerked spasmodically, myomers contracting and extending wildly as the electrical charges bled through it.
More missiles arched upwards towards Ace as he landed the Nova, expending some of the last plasma built up for the jets to half-turn the 'mech. He landed off balance, the Nova staggering before its large, flat feet were properly under it. But that didn’t stop clouds of flechettes from being hurled upwards from the anti-missile systems, cutting more than half the missiles away before they could hit him.
Ace backed away, keeping half an eye on the charge indicator for his jumpjets. The temperature inside the Nova was dropping down from the yellow range but he decided not to push his luck and fired again, this time with the PPC in his left arm.
The Wyvern mechwarrior threw up the damaged right arm to block the shot, sacrificing the limb in order to protect the core of his ‘mech.
It worked, after a fashion, but it also cost the Diamond Shark warrior one of only two long-range weapons he had. And the other was a single LRM launcher - something that the anti-missile systems could reduce to almost total uselessness.
Ace fired his jumpjets again, throwing the Nova backwards and away from the Wyvern. From here it would be a matter of playing keep away, punching away at the Wyvern from beyond its effective ability to retaliate - an echo of how he had similarly dealt with Blake Hawker.
“Enough.”
For a moment, he thought he was imagining the Diamond Shark Star Captain’s voice.
But then: “He has you - this is how he fights, quiaff?”
“Star Captain…” Ace didn’t know the woman’s voice, but he could recognise that she was reluctant to commit either way.
“Aff, Star Commander. Do not be ashamed.” Ace’s tactical computer pinpointed the source: the Thresher that was closing in behind the Wyvern. “He has defeated me in a similar way. That is how he earned his place here.”
Ace kept bounded backwards again, but the Wyvern slowed its advance, lagging back to leave it outside of easy reach. Although unlike the Stormcrow pilot, she was still moving evasively in case he tried for an opportunistic extreme range shot again.
“Are you ordering me to concede, Star Captain?”
“Neg. Fight if you believe you can win. But if continuing to fight is simply wasting the Clan’s resources…”
Ace let the Nova finishing cooling, moving only evasively.
“Cadet,” the woman announced. “I recognise my defeat. I have bid poorly and will not prolong this.”
He eyed the two battlemechs and then activated his own transmitter. “Star Commander, I offer hegira. You are an honorable adversary. Perhaps in the future we will fight together against our Clan’s rivals.”
“I doubt that,” she replied. “Being forced to accept hegira by a freeborn cadet will mar my codex forever.”
The Wyvern turned sharply and began stalking away, its gait not so smooth as it had been earlier. Still, at least she was returning to the repair bays under her own power.
“It has been some time, cadet.” Blake Hawker moved his Thresher closer, but kept his weapons not quite aimed at Ace’s Nova. “Neg… I err. It has been some time, Star Commander.”
Ace felt a warm feeling at the recognition. “Thank you, Star Captain. I would not have had this opportunity without you.”
“Aff. You would not. And that reflects on my own codex. Do not think that I sent Tomori away to spare you. Only because you are my problem and I must contain the damage you are causing.”
“Damage? I… do not understand.” Ace’s mind raced. He hadn’t considered for a second that Blake was here for anything beyond fighting him as one of the opponents for the trial. And no doubt the Star Captain would fight as hard as he could - indeed, perhaps desiring a rematch against Ace. But this spoke of something more.
The bloodnamed Star Captain laughed bitterly. “I have been educated since our first meeting. My defeat against you is only a shame to me. One that I can perhaps live down in the future if I secure further victories. But by admitting you to Clan Diamond Shark, by giving an upstart bandit the chance to fight as one of us? That disgraces my Clan, my bloodhouse… and my Khan.”
The Thresher began to walk forwards. “Thus I am relegated to this obsolete battlemech. Thus, I am ordered to ensure that your career ends here. If you had had the good grace to fail, you could have lived on in obscurity. But now I must end you.”
Ace gritted his teeth. “So that is how it really is. So much for the honor of Clan Diamond Shark.”
“There is no deception here.” Blake Hawker told him. “Battle, as always, will be the final argument. Kill me, and no one will question the outcome. But if you cannot kill me then rest assured, I will not give you a second chance.”
“Until your Khan sends someone else.”
“Defeat me and you will be a Star Captain. And you will have bested more than three times the tonnage of your own ‘mech. That has its own distinction, which you should have been taught.”
“Deathstrike!” Ace exclaimed. The Deathstrike Award, a medal granted only to Diamond Shark warrior who had - as Blake said - defeated such steep odds in a single battle.
“Aff. A trueborn who has won that would almost certainly be posted to the Khan’s own galaxy. But even a freeborn warrior who has it will be too visible for Khan Hawker to take obvious action against you.”
“Win or die.”
Hawker chuckled darkly. “That is the way of the Clans. Only the mediocre believe otherwise.”
And then his targeting systems went live and the sixty-ton Thresher hurled itself towards Ace’s lighter ‘mech, weapons firing furiously as they came into range.
Ace was hardly caught off guard, but the Thresher was currently too fast to use his previous targets and thus he had little choice but to switch his approach.
The Thresher’s autocannon raged, tracer fire marking the path of shells tearing through the air towards Ace. He couldn’t quite dance aside, although he did avoid some of the fire. Craters formed across the Nova’s torso and one leg as he fired the PPCs one after the other, staggering the shots slightly.
Rather than trying anything complicated, he aimed for the broad front of the Thresher, the simplest center of mass shots. Both struck - one dead center of the chest, the second off to the left under the autocannon mount.
Ace twisted the Nova, trying to avoid the Thresher’s lasers, not bothering to try to bring his own torso mounted laser to bear. He managed to evade one of the three, but Hawker’s mech had pulse lasers in each arm - accurate weapons that had a much more flexible range of fire due to their mounting.
Pulses of coherent light ripped away armor from the Nova’s right arm and he was lucky not to lose the capacitors for the PPC there entirely - as it was, the weapon would be charging more slowly after the shot that was already being charged up. More pulses burned into armor plating just below Ace’s cockpit, the energy transfer rattling the medium ‘mech and throwing him against his padded restraints.
The anti-missile systems did their usual work, swatting almost all the SRMs from the Thresher aside, and then Hawker was arching to one side, keeping the Nova in his optimum range while he prepared for a second barrage.
Perhaps he thought that Ace would try to open up the range, pitting his two ER PPCs against the single autocannon. If so, he was right to think that the Thresher’s accelerated myomers would be more than enough on this open ground to overcome any such efforts and Ace didn’t have the slightest intention of trying that.
Instead, the young mechwarrior dug the Nova’s feet into the ground and came to an abrupt halt, turning and folding the Nova’s legs beneath him. The bird-like limbs let him drop the ‘mech’s torso almost to the ground… and with a very stable firing platform he unleashed both ER PPCs at point blank range, aiming at one of the marks left by his earlier shots.
The Thresher’s full firepower crashed over and past the Nova without hitting, while the two particle beams both hammered right into the damage left beneath its autocannon, then through the armour and into the ammunition feeds.
With a roar of internal detonations, the heavier ‘mech was torn in two. The right arm went flying, the rest of the ‘Mech fell to one knee, missing half the chest and with the reactor shielding visibly compromised - even if the infrared signature soaring hadn’t been enough of a clue.
The cockpit, mounted near the left shoulder, had survived intact though. As had Blake Hawker, and as Ace waited for the PPCs to charge, one notably slower than the other, the Thresher pushed itself upright.
There were no last words. Hawker fired the two lasers left to him - the extended range laser in the chest carved across the armorglass of Ace’s cockpit, sending cracks across the transparent material while the pulse laser severed the right arm when Ace threw it up protectively.
And then Ace fired the PPC in his left arm and ripped through what was left of the Thresher’s reactor.
Star Captain Blake Hawker burned as the air around his ‘mech ignited.
Star Captain Ace added two more objectives to his little list of things to do. Survive. And take revenge.
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Chapter 1