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And that is how Max Liao should come across.

Pirates as well! Now this I like

Cheers

Rayo

Pirates 
Just check the name for your Pirate Lord. Sometimes, you call him Reynard, others Renard.

Chapter Three

Challenge Systems Corporate Headquarters
Matam, Panpour
Federated Suns
August 8, 3026

“Mister Beck?  Mister Beck?”

Oliver Beck, the chief executive officer of Challenge Systems, stopped and turned around towards the security guard rushing towards him.  “Yes?” he asked irritably.  It had been a long day, and he was eager to get home to his wife and kids and a home-cooked meal after spending the last four weeks in transit and meetings on New Syrtis.  But at least CS-M-327 was on schedule for completion—and it looked as though CS-M-328 would be finished ahead of schedule.  That should net him and his people a sizeable bonus from the AFFS if he managed to get both Monoliths delivered and through trials over the next year.

The troubles along the border had him worried . . . Panpour was only two jumps from no less than four Concordat worlds—each of which had a sizeable garrison.  And yet, despite the importance of his shipyards to the AFFS, the only garrison consisted of local planetary militia.  Duke Michael had been apologetic when Oliver raised the issue again with him, but Panpour lay within the Crucis March, not his Capellan March . . . which meant that he could not garrison the planet or provide additional aerospace forces to protect the Yard.

Oliver sighed.  Until three weeks ago, they had been assigned the 1st Battalion of 39th Avalon Hussars—but since the Taurians were claiming that the 39th had killed the heir to their throne, First Prince Hanse had withdrawn them . . . to avoid ‘provoking’ the Taurians; and their replacements had not arrived.  The CEO snorted.  Right.  Like we are the ones provoking them.  Damn bulls need a matador to teach them what’s what, he thought to himself.  No, instead, the AFFS just leaves his people—and those working for Jalastar Aerospace, the premier manufacturer of light-weight aerospace fighters in the Federated Suns—hanging in the wind.

Accordingly, he had ordered security ramped up on the Yards and the industrial facilities on the planetary surface—the spaceport as well.  And if Challenge Systems didn’t have ‘Mechs in their security forces, their personnel were all veterans of the AFFS and lavishly equipped with the latest in armored vehicles, personal body armor, and small arms.  And in space, Jalastar’s test-flight squadron was keeping a close watch over the Yards as well—a responsibility that their CEO Hammond Lorne took seriously.

“Sir,” the guard said as he approached.  “We have your car prepped in the underground garage, not out front.”

Oliver frowned.  “The garage?  You think I am in danger here, in front my own building?”

“Can’t be sure, Sir.  But we are taking no precautions—you limo is on sub-level two.”

“Corporal, my limo is right outside that door,” Oliver protested, pointing to the vehicle waiting on the side of the street.

“That is the decoy, Sir.”

Oliver sighed, but these were the men he trusted to keep him and his family safe.  “Fine,” he snapped and he headed for the elevator.  The doors slid open and he stepped inside and punched the button for sub-level two in the underground parking garage.

The light within the button came to life, and the CEO caught a whiff of a sharp, acrid smell just micro-seconds before the shaped charge explosive hidden within the panel detonated, tearing him and the elevator to pieces.


Jalastar Aerospace Assembly Facility
Matam, Panpour
Federated Suns
August 8, 3026

Hammond Lorne nodded at his supervisor as the latest production of the venerable Sparrowhawk light aerospace fighter was rolled out onto the tarmac.  “This the last of the special order for New Syrtis?”

“Yes, sir.  Eighteen brand-spanking new birds—they are scheduled to ship out tomorrow and we put the finishing touches on this one first thing this morning.  Duke Michael will have no complaints about our quality of work, here.”

“Good,” agreed Hammond as he looked over the lean predator lines of the fighter interceptor.  Keeping the Duke of New Syrtis happy, and the Duke of Robinson happy, and the First Prince of the Federated Suns happy was part and parcel of his job description—almost as much as turning a profit for his investors.  “They have all flown?”

“Yes, sir.  We don’t send out any fighter until she makes her maiden flight—you know that.”

Hammond grunted.  It was standard operating procedure for Jalastar, but sometimes people had been known to cut corners—not on his watch, but there had been incidents in the past.  “We ferrying them to the space-port?”

“No, sir.  They are going to get loaded on that,” he said pointed at the freight train Hammond had assumed was here to deliver components, “and delivered that way.”

The CEO frowned.  “Well, that’s odd.  Chartering a train has to cost more than the fuel to fly them seventy kilometers.”

The supervisor shrugged.  “We got word this morning from the spaceport that the ferry flight was cancelled and alternate transport would be pro-“

The supervisor’s words were cut off as the train’s whistle blew and it back up on the siding less than thirty meters away—and then one of the boxcars exploded.

Wexworth Memorial Spaceport
Riverhurst, Diefenbaker
Federated Suns
August 10, 3026

Marie Davion-Hasek smiled as she shook hands with the delegation of local leaders and militia commanders.  This was her seventh visit to Diefenbaker in the twenty plus years she had been married to Michael Hasek, and she knew the gentlemen she greeted well.

“Welcome back, Your Grace,” the mayor of Riverhurst said.  “We’ve picked up the pieces from the Taurian attack back in March, but there are still some victims who would like to meet with you—and the survivor family of the victims.”

“Later, Charles,” another man said harshly.  “What I want to know is when the AFFS is going to get off the pot and show those damned Bulls who is in charge out here?  Dirty bastards think they have the right to attack our worlds.  Our worlds!  That and the wave of bombings coming from the traitors who want to turn Diefenbaker back over to the Bulls.  It’s past time we cracked down on them all—hard.”

“Daniel,” she said as she shook her head.  “The First Prince will make that decision—Duke Michael cannot invade the Taurians on his own; it would leave our border with the Capellans defenseless.”

“With all due respect, madame, he may not have a choice much longer.  You people on New Syrtis—and that damn Hanse Davion on New Avalon—don’t seem to realize just how frightened our people here are.  There is a large segment of Diefenbaker that still considers us as invaders and occupiers—they want to return to the Concordat.  There have been riots between the factions the past two months and people have been killed.  This is getting out of hand—we need troops and we need them now.”

“I understand, Daniel,” Marie said calmly as she tried to smooth the feathers of the agitated leader.  “And so does Michael.  That is why he sent me out here to try and calm the wat-“

The supersonic CRACK arrived a split-second after the bullet that struck Marie Hasek-Davion in the head created a fountain of blood and brains over the tarmac, as well as the clothing of those who had greeted her.

General Headquarters, Taurus Defense Force
Mount Santiago Defense Complex, Taurus
Taurian Concordat
August 13, 3026

“Saboteurs!  It is damned Davion saboteurs!” shouted Grover Shraplen after Marshal O’Conner finished her report, and the woman frowned.

“We don’t know why the Munitions Bunker lit off, Duke Shraplen—all we know at the moment is that it did detonate and caused a great deal of damage and loss of life.”

Thomas’s friend and advisor snorted.  “You think it an accident, perhaps?  If you believe that, then I have an armaments factory on Ishtar to sell you!  Marshal O’Conner, I do not believe in coincidence.  Neither should the uniformed head of the Taurian Defense Force—these raids and attacks have continued on nearly every one of the outer worlds.  Every one outside of the Hyades.  We have seen a spike in violence, shootings and bombings that are clearly the product of instigators from abroad.  And now, in the heart of one of our most vital military installations, one of our secure ordnance sites is hit and we have at least five hundred confirmed dead!  This is no mere coincidence, Marshal O’Conner, General Grenadine.  This is the prelude to a Davion invasion.  Pre-invasion sabotage of our defenses, assassination of the men and women charged with defending our borders, and attempting to dilute our strength through these raids.  They are hoping beyond hope we take their bait and disperse the TDF, so that their RCTs roll right over us!”

“That is all supposition!” Janice O’Conner snapped as she stood.  “My Lord,” she said turning back to the Protector sitting at the end of the table, “let us investigate this and find out what really happened on New Vallis.”

Thomas looked up and his eyes were narrow and angry.  Janice swallowed as she could feel the anger radiating off of the Protector.  “I have seen the reports Grover provided, Marshal O’Conner.  The Davions are moving troops—Hanse Davion would not do that without a reason.  And these raids and attacks have become unbearable.  This, this . . . incident on New Vallis is the final straw.”

“Sir,” Janice O’Conner begged, “accidents happen when you handle explosives—even the best trained people have momentary lapses that can have horrible consequences.  New Vallis might have been that.  We have only just begun picking through what’s left there.”

“An accident now?  Now?  No, Marshal, the timing is too coincidental for my tastes.”  Thomas stood.  “I am calling all reservists to active duty throughout the Concordat—a total force mobilization of all assets.  Admiral Rains,” he said to the commander of the Taurian Concordat Navy, “inform all corporations and conglomerates and the Far Seekers as well that pursuant to the Concordat Defense Act of 2842 I am hereby activating all of the Category A reserve JumpShips to military command.”  He paused and looked down at his hands.

After several moments he looked back up and his eyes were hard, like pieces of flint.  “Once the reserves have been mobilized, Marshal, once the ships have arrived at their marshalling points, Admiral, then I intend to authorize Case Gold.  And I need remind no one in this room, we have never signed the Ares Conventions—I’ll be damned if let Hanse Davion roll over my Concordat without a fight, even if that means I have to nuke his ass on New Avalon to do it.  Get it done, ladies, gentlemen—I want the transports underway no later than sixty days from today.”

Everyone stood as Thomas walked to the door and exited, Grover Shraplen in his wake.  Henri Jouett cleared his throat.  “And what exactly is Case Gold?”

Janice O’Conner shook her head.  “The invasion plans for New Syrtis.  Under Case Gold, we hit the March capital with ten regiments and decapitate their leadership.  May God have mercy on our souls.”

Henri blinked.  “Decapitate their leadership?  Easier said than done, especially with military assets.”

“True, which is why I need to send orders to our special ops teams—can TOSIOI get a sniper team on planet?”

Henri paused.  “Marshal, perhaps we should give the Protector time to . . .”

“We have our orders, Henri.  And while they are not the ones I think we should be following, the Defense Force will obey them.  Can your people get my snipers in position to eliminate Hasek-Davion and his military commanders?”

The chief of Taurian intelligence sighed and he nodded.  “I can.”

“Then let’s get cracking, people.”

Wolf’s Dragoons Field Headquarters
Chou’s Port, An Ting
Draconis Combine
August 19, 3026

“You have got to be shitting me, Colonel,” J. Elliot Jamison said bluntly, his eyes wide.  “Takashi Kurita has agreed to end our contract early if we take on this . . . this . . . forlorn hope of a’marching through the dead center of the Federated Suns on the order of Taurians?”

“He has Elliot,” Jamie Wolf said softly.  And then the Colonel sighed deeply.  “Look, we all know that our relations with our current employer are souring—and fast.  Yeah, some of them like Minobu Tetsuhara are good and honorable men.  Then we have folks like Gregor Samsonov . . . I do not have to tell any of you that he means us no good.  Takashi . . .,” Jamie shook his head.  “He is just another Successor Lord and if the security of his nation means sacrificing a bunch of mercs like us, he will do it in a second.  That said, I think that Samsonov is overstepping his authority here—and the fact that Takashi sent Indrahar out here to brief me and have a little chat with the Warlord goes far in proving that.”

He stood and looked at the collection of men and women who sat at this table today.  Major Kelly Yukinov, his second-in-command of Alpha Regiment.  William Cameron, his communications officer and unofficial bodyguard.  Andrei Shostokovitch, the CO of Beta Regiment.  Wilhelmina Korsht, who was not only the CO of Gamma Regiment, but the second-in-command of the entire Dragoons—and had been ever since the death of Joshua.  Kathleen Dumont, the commander of Delta Regiment, who sat beside Baxter Arbuthnot, the head of Epsilon.  Zeta Battalion’s J. Elliot Jamison, Jason Caromody who commanded the Dragoon’s Aerospace assets, Natasha Kerensky the commander of the renowned Black Widow Company, Hansen Brubaker of the Special Recon Group, Griffith Nikitich, the CO of the Seventh Kommando, and last, but not least, Stanford Blake, the head of Wolfnet Intelligence.

Thirteen men and women, including himself, and Jamie smiled.  Others might think that thirteen was an unlucky number, but it had brought the Dragoons a great deal of luck—far more good than bad.  And every single last one of the assembled men and women were from the Homeworlds.  They had been born in the Homeworlds.

“We are experts at forlorn hopes, Elliot,” he said with a shake of his head.  “Hell, our entire expedition was nothing but a forlorn hope.”

Wilhelmina frowned.  “Perhaps, but we were a forlorn hope, with a purpose; with a mission to accomplish.    What is the purpose in taking this contract?  Working for the Taurians of all people?  How do we further our mission in this?”

“Mina, Mina, Mina,” Natasha Kerensky chuckled.  “What is the purpose in taking any contract?  We haven’t had a mission since we stopped sending reports back to the Homeworlds, after all.  Except for a vague statement of ‘prepare the Inner Sphere for our coming’ without us having any clue of when they are coming.  Archimedes might have been able to move the world with a long enough lever, but we don’t have that lever yet—and these people aren’t ready to for us to even start to prepare them for what is to come.”

She shook her head.  “But back to the purpose of taking this contract:  we are mercenaries.   Sell-swords.  Lucre-warriors.  Soldiers of fortune.  With all of the good and bad connotations of that, Mina.  Thomas Calderon is offering one hell of contract—and if we don’t take a good hard look at it, what will other people say?  Will they ask if we have lost our edge?  If we are afraid of taking on high-risk, high-reward contracts?”

No one at the table said a word in answer, but Jamie bared his teeth in a broad grin that Natasha returned.  “They would be stupid to think that, but they tend to be stupid a lot of the time.  Thomas is offering us 100% command rights, 100% salvage rights, and he is giving us free reign to select our own targets—military targets.  He has offered a blank check to purchase supplies, munitions, fuel, spare parts, replacement ‘Mechs even before we leave the Combine.  And the compensation package?  We’ve had better—but not often.  Twenty-five percent in advance with the remaining three-quarters held in escrow by ComStar.  And he included an escape clause that provides us with a means of getting out of the contract after hitting eight targets in the Federated Suns by forfeiting two-thirds of the escrow amount.  What other contract can you think of that we get paid 50% to not accomplish the mission, on top of the supplies he is buying and 100% of salvage?  People, that’s a lot of lucre.”

“Second.  We have ignored the Periphery states for too long.  If our people are coming, then we need to assess what they can bring to the fight.  How better than to do it in Taurian service?  Once we get to the Concordat, our contract calls for us to defend the Taurian worlds, if the war is still ongoing, or to train existing Taurian formations while garrisoning their worlds—which will also give us a chance to evaluate their industrial might AND their military capabilities.  After all, a good five percent of our own machines were originally made in Taurian factories . . . that alone tells me we aren’t getting the full story here in the Inner Sphere, just distortions based on ‘the Periphery are uncivilized, primitive, and backward’ ideas fostered by ComStar.”

“Third.  We are talking about a contract that make Xenophon look like a piker in the annals of warfare!” and here Natasha’s eyes begin to shine.  “By Kerensky’s Seed, we have a chance to perform an operation that will make everyone sit up and take note of the Dragoons . . . again!  Crossing the entire width of a Successor State, of the Federated Suns, fighting off any and all challengers as we go, taking their own supplies and munitions and ‘Mechs for our own, and doing so with honor?  This is what we live for.  This is what we are born and trained for!”

“Fourth.  As the Colonel says, things are getting iffy here in the Combine.  Yeah, sure, getting us out of Samsonov’s District means he isn’t going to screw with us—but seriously?  Do you of think that Vasily Cherenkoff is any better?  Or Hirushi Shotugama?  There are good and honorable people here, but there are just too many differences between how we wage war and how they act.  They will try to isolate us and make us dependent upon them in order to drive us into the DCMS as a house unit—or feed us into the fire and see us destroyed piece by piece with third-rate garbage for supplies and parts.  This is our chance to end this contract on honorable terms—three years ahead of schedule.  Do any of you think we have a chance of spending three more years here without all of this boiling up to a head?  I don’t.”

“Fifth.  Someone is orchestrating these events out on the Taurian Rim.  I don’t think Hanse Davion is pushing them this hard—he knows how difficult conquering the Concordat would be.  And despite what the propaganda says about Thomas Calderon, he isn’t crazy enough to start a war on his own—not without being pushed back to the edge of the cliff, at least in his own mind.  If we take this contract, it gives us a good chance to discover who is pulling the strings out there, who is deliberately attempting to destabilize both the Concordat and the Suns.  Because frankly, if the balloon does go up, Takashi and Maximillian Liao will use it as an excuse to settle old scores.  The Federated Suns will be in a three-front war, and that might be enough to break them.”

Silence hovered over the table again as Natasha Kerensky finished, and Stanford nodded.  “She’s right on those last two points at least, Colonel.  And we are too far away to probe into this FUBAR situation.  And I must admit, gathering more intelligence on the Concordat would be helpful—as would having a base of operations on the opposite side of the Inner Sphere from where the Invasion will eventually come.”

One by one, the Regimental Commanders nodded their agreement, even Wilhelmina.  Jamie took stock of the officers at the table and then he rapped his knuckles against the wood.  “Kelly?”

“Sir, I am just damned worried about the whole mess.  The Taurians never signed the Ares Conventions—what if they go 1st or 2nd War on us and pull out the nukes?  We could get tarred pretty damn badly if we are on their side if that happens.”

“Agreed.  Which is why if we do this—IF—I will insist that Thomas include an escape clause that states if the Taurian Concordat uses nuclear weapons, our contract is null and void—and that I will immediately contact Hanse Davion, inform him that my contract is now broken, and that I am offering the Dragoons in service to the Federated Suns for operations against the Taurians.”

“Damn,” whispered Baxter Arbuthnot.  “If he isn’t completely insane that should keep on the straight and narrow—but we have seen in the past how insane these Successor Lords can behave.  Remember Anton?”

Natasha’s face set into stone and her eyes grew cold.  “Thomas would do well to remember what happened to Anton in response.  Everyone would.”

“My Regimental Commanders are in agreement—any objections?”

No one spoke for several seconds, but finally J. Elliot nodded.  “Hell if it wouldn’t make for capstone to our careers, Colonel.  I must admit that going down in history appeals to my vanity.”

“It does to all of us, Elliot,” Jamie answered with a grin.  “Very well.  I will contact Thomas via HPG and provided that he accepts my rider, we will sign his contract.  In the meantime, we have two assaults to carry out with Minobu Tetsuhara’s Ryuken before we can depart.  I want warning orders for all commands and civilians issued immediately, with the first planning session to start at 1400 hours this afternoon.  Stanford, pull all of our intelligence on Quentin and Marduk—I don’t know what other units Takashi is putting into the pot, so everyone count on just our units and the Ryuken.  For now, plan on Alpha and Gamma, plus three Ryuken Regiments at Quentin, Beta, Delta, Epsilon, and two Ryuken at Marduk.  We will discuss how to distribute the auxiliary formations later today.  Dismissed.”