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Avalon City, New Avalon
Crucis March, Federated Suns
3 August 2760

Edwina was away that night, having flown to visit her family on their estates halfway around the planet, and John had dismissed his attendants. He and Hanse shared the privacy of a lounge, one wall screen displaying an Italian opera that dated back almost a thousand years. The ghost from the future had commended it to John, who continued not to see the appeal but the sound of it would mask their conversation if someone actually managed to overhear them.

“The rot is too deep, John – it has been for years. Perhaps Simon Cameron could have turned things around but he’s dead and his son is a spoiled brat utterly unequal to his responsibilities.” Hanse’s eyes blazed with determination. “All you can do is salvage as much as possible for the Federated Suns.”

“I know your… unique position gives you a perspective that I lack, Hanse, but this isn’t your time. You’ve never lived at peace with your neighbours – no, I’m not blaming you, but it’s colouring your thinking. It’s thinking the way you describe – putting the Suns ahead of everyone else – that led to the Star League’s fall. We could have made it work despite Amaris, but from what you tell me, none of us were willing to be selfless enough to put the League ahead of ourselves.”

Relaxing into his chair, John looked at his great-great-great-great-great grandson and met determination with conviction. “I don’t know what happened to turn me into someone willing to stand back and let that happen, but I don’t want to be that person. If Richard isn’t able to set the example that the Star League needs then I should stand up and shame the others into doing so.”

“You’re at war with one of them.”

“True, but that’s the situation we’re left with. Richard doesn’t have to be a brilliant first lord, or even an able one, if we can simply convince him to work with the rest of the Council. Robert Steiner is no fool and Kenyon Marik is hardly an ally of the Capellan Confederation. Their issues with Kerensky are personal – once he’s no longer regent, we’ll be rid of one of the major sources of tension on the Star League Council.”

“That’s optimistic. The problems didn’t begin with him,” Hanse reminded him. “Look at the Hidden Wars – or the way Kurita tried to usurp your throne. Would you work with him for that?”

John hesitated. “It would be difficult for Takiro, but you yourself told me his health is failing. Minoru might be an enemy in your… timeline?”

“As good a term as any.”

“Right, but he doesn’t have to be an enemy. He’s ambitious, but also pragmatic. As long as the Camerons aren’t eliminated the prospect of being a power behind the throne is far better for him than breaking the League asunder. If we can work together that’s the two largest and most powerful Member States.”

The other man shook his head. “I don’t think you’ve got a hope in hell of succeeding, John. I’ll help you – it’s not as if I have any other options – but I hope this doesn’t end up making things worse.”

“I’m not talking about neglecting the Suns. After all, if we’re going to prop up the Star League then I need us to look as strong as possible. That strength just has to show that we’re gaining it from working with the Star League, not against it.”

“Then you need to talk to Kerensky. I don’t know how he’s seen in this era but history casts him as practically the soul of the Star League.”

John nodded. “Albion Military Academy is a good example of how the SLDF and a House Military can work together. There are only two other academies outside the Hegemony that do that – both in the Lyran Commonwealth – General Kerensky attended one of them. I’m going to propose expanding Warrior’s Hall on New Syrtis into a fully-fledged SLDF academy, one that can help train soldiers side-by-side for the AFFS and SLDF and foster pro-Star League sentiment.”

“I see. And you’re expecting that the other Lords will see that as something to emulate.”

“Probably not until Richard reaches his majority, at least for the Free Worlds League. I can’t see Kenyon Marik asking Kerensky for that or accepting it if he offered. But Barbara Liao might – if she’s seeing me as a rival then – by God – let’s use that. And then Kenyon will see that all his neighbours have SLDF academies and might be persuaded that he could seek the same from the new First Lord.”

Hanse chuckled. “I notice you’re not including the Combine in that. And you’re probably right. But a lot of this hinges on Richard Cameron being reasonable and that isn’t likely with Amaris holding his confidence. I agree as far as it goes that the League’s chances of survival are better if House Cameron isn’t wiped out – such as those chances are – but Amaris is the main threat. To all practical purposes he already has the future First Lord as a puppet and that isn’t enough for him.”

“Agreed. It’s difficult that no one else really sees him as a threat. If you hadn’t told me about him I’d have trouble believing he was anything more than the bumpkin he acts like.”

“I’m glad we’re on the same page.” Hanse leant forwards. “So what do you have in mind?”

“If we can tie him to the Periphery’s unrest then the rest of the Council will have to act. I’ve already instructed MilInt to start looking for shipments of military hardware that aren’t accounted for by the SLDF or the house militaries.” John stabbed his finger down. “Hiding the quantity of equipment you described would be incredibly difficult already. Now that we know what to look for we can -”

“You need to kill him.”

The prince looked at Hanse in horror. “You mean assassination? Of one of the Star League Council? That’s not a door I want to open!”

“There’s nothing sacred about their lives and better one man dies than ten thousand. Or ten million. The one assured way of stopping Amaris is to kill him.”

John rose to his feet and stalked to the window. “Setting aside the practical problems with actually carrying that out – which are titanic – it’s a certainty that it would be identified as an assassination. Even if there was no evidence at all – just as there wasn’t any evidence of Simon’s death being anything but an accident – the assumption would be there. The Territorial States would assume that one of the Member States removed him because he was too influential – which would be the truth when you come down to it. He’d be a martyr.”

“House Amaris is notorious for its internal power struggles.”

“So what?” John thumped the window. “He’s from the periphery, we aren’t. It’s that polarized right now. And the House Lords would suspect largely the same thing, and watch for anyone trying to move into the same circle. Which is exactly what I’m going to be doing – and the same solution will present itself.”

“Oh and then there’s Richard himself. Who will blame… who? Assuming that whoever is sent isn’t traced back to me – and that’s a real possibility, I know you have this quasi-infallible MIIO in the future but that doesn’t exist yet -”

“Which you’d better do something about.”

 â€œWhich, yes, is on my list of things to do. But Richard will most likely blame General Kerensky. So we’d end up isolating the First Lord even more, crippling any chance of getting his tolerance and potentially costing us one of the few other pillars of support the League has right now. Do you see why I think it’s a terrible idea?”

Hanse nodded. “You’re absolutely right. Killing Amaris would be a nightmare even without the moral issues which you carefully didn’t mention. But you’re the one who wants to save the Star League and as long as the centre of the Star League still exists, simple inertia has a good chance of keeping the Council from disbanding. Stefan Amaris is intent on destroying that centre and right now he has practically all the cards he needs to do that. He’s had a decade to get his claws into Richard Cameron and that’s not a bond you’ll break easily.”

“It’s too damaging to risk,” John told him firmly. “I’ll find another way. Besides… Amaris has family. We could kill him and be right back at square one if they take up the same idea. His wife could easily send Stefan’s heir Tadeo to Terra to fill his father’s place at Richard’s side. You know Richard would jump at the chance to mentor his friend’s son.”

That point seemed to sink in and Hanse nodded grudgingly. “I suppose I didn’t give his family very much consideration. Alright, I yield the point. So… going back to the earlier question, what else can you do to strengthen the Star League?”

The prince pursed his lips. “The treasury will howl but I think we’ll have to try to undo some of the damage done to the Periphery by the current taxes. I doubt I can get the Council to keep their hands off the funds generated unless Richard supports it, but nine-tenths of the problems in the Periphery stem from the taxes we imposed in ‘52.”

“It has potential,” Hanse admitted. “If less of the SLDF needs to go to the Periphery it would certainly complicate the Amaris’ coup. But without that income you can’t afford to support the AFFS and if you raise your own taxes then you’ll hurt the economy.”

“I know, but the core of the expansion is done so I can look at cutting back there a little and put it into measures to restrain some of the corporate gouging that goes on there.”

“Every little helps. Can I talk you into assassinating Jinjiro Kurita?”

“Absolutely not – do you think I want a war on two fronts?”

Hanse shrugged. “Worth a try. The last thing you need on the Star League Council is a psychotic.”

“Minoru has almost forty years ahead of him…”


Hellas Mountains, Valexa
Sarna Commonality, Capellan Confederation
23 September 2760

The road zigzagged up the steep slope in order to present a manageable gradient to ground vehicles. Ignoring the road in order to ascend as directly as possible, Susan scrambled her Dervish up the easier sections, sometimes using the paddle-like hands to stabilise the ‘Mech. Where the mountainside didn’t serve she used jump-jets to loft the fifty-five ton ‘Mech past obstacles.

“Major Barnes is trying to get your attention again,” Gav Greaney advised her.

“Yes, I noticed. Shocking lack of radio discipline, he really needs a couple of days leave.”

Delta Company, into which the remains of Echo Company had been folded, was made up of Wolverines rather than Dervishes. Conveniently, the two ‘Mech designs were of almost identical size and mobility so the company was able to operate together cohesively. Right now long range comms were supposed to be kept offline as the Confederation had managed to launch a replacement satellite network that could pick up on AFFS signals. It was only a matter of time before orbital sorties by the Navy’s fighters would take them out, but at the moment it gave the enemy an advantage.

“Major’s gonna chew you out, again.”

“Shut up Smythe.”

“Shutting up,” the woman affirmed – although how long that would last was as open to doubt as the timeframe for the Navy to clear the satellites.

“Thing is, she’s not wrong. Technically this is an unauthorised sortie. You could almost say we’re absent without leave.”

“Firebase commanders have authority to carry out short-term operations at their discretion and the 86th are inside our operational radius.”

“It’s kind of stretching a point to say you were the firebase commander, captain. The Major was only taking a nap.”

“He needs all the sleep he can get, Gav. And he left me in charge of the battalion until he woke up.”

“Just wanted to point out that he used the words ‘summary’ ‘court’ and ‘martial’ in his last transmission.”

Susan fired her jump-jets again. “Well he might get two of those together, but I really don’t think ‘Wang’ Dixon will be signing off on any summary judgements. If I’m court martialled he’d want every I dotted and every T crossed.”

“Benefit of being a Duke’s daughter?”

“I don’t like taking too much advantage of it, but if it means we can relieve the 86th then I don’t mind making an exception.”

As they reached the top of the ridge, Susan’s sensors started painting heat signatures. Fires were blazing in the barns of the sprawling cattle station that the 86th Light Infantry had been based out of, down in the broad valley beyond. Amid the smoke and fires she could see bipedal figures far too large to be infantrymen.

“I’ve a partial ID,” Smythe reported, breaking the silence as the other ten ‘Mechs of Delta Company caught up. “Bug ‘Mech, I’d say ninety-five percent chance it’s a Wasp.”

“And the other five percent?”

“Stinger with a Wasp cockpit assembly – there have been some patch-jobs sighted.”

“It doesn’t make a huge difference then.” Susan adjusted her radio to the frequency she’d picked up the infantry request for assistance on. Breaking radio silence could have been a judgement by the regiment’s command team that the Capellans must already know their location if they were under attack. Or it could have been a fake signal intended to draw out AFFS ‘Mechs to ambush them.

Having stayed in touch with Sergeant – now Lieutenant – Watsuki and his unit, Susan was fair sure she’d recognised the radio operator’s voice. That cut the odds of an ambush to around one in five by her best guess. Acceptable odds.

“86th Infantry, this is Delta of the Second Cuirassiers. We’re moving to your support,” she advised via a low strength signal that the satellites should hopefully miss. Of course, the Liao ‘Mechs in the area would also detect it, if not necessarily decode it. But knowing reinforcements had arrived should warn them off, which would be almost as good as destroying them.

“Roger that, Delta. We’ve got fire teams in the buildings and the drainage ditch.” The voice of the colonel was relieved. “We took down two ‘Mechs but there are at least ten more and a lance of missile carriers backing them up.”

“Understood, we’re on the way.”

Susan switched back to Delta’s internal comms. “Move in. We’re looking at a company of light ‘Mechs and a lance of missile carriers – Greaney, hold your lance back to deal with the carriers.” Missile carriers were little more than tracked turrets, but they could deliver an awesome amount of firepower from the missile launchers in those turrets. They were lightly armoured though and with four Dervishes, Greaney’s lance should be enough to take them out quickly.

As the company descended the slope, they dispersed and Greaney held his group back to form a second line behind Longknife’s four Wolverines and Susan’s command lance, which was one ‘Mech down.

“I think they’re pulling back to the buildings,” Smythe reported.

That made sense to Susan. “Keep moving, they’ll probably take us under fire with the missile carriers to draw us into the buildings and their range.”

Sure enough, as they came within half a kilometre of the cattle station the arching contrails of LRMs rose from behind one of the buildings – obvious due to their sheer number if nothing else.

The salvo had been concentrated on Longknife’s lance and the four ‘Mechs scattered, trying to avoid taking the concentrated barrage. Susan lost sight of them momentarily but all four of the magnetic signatures of the ‘Mechs kept moving so she didn’t think they’d been taken out.

Behind her, she saw Greaney’s lance briefly halt, the covers of their missile launchers opening. A return salvo burst up into the air and then the Dervishes resumed movement.

Then the first Wasps came into view, popping out to fire on Susan with their lasers as she crossed the quarter kilometre mark.

She had lasers of her own though, as well as SRMs. Her first target ducked back behind the cover of tin-walled building but she fired anyway – the lasers punched right through the light metal and four SRMs converted it to scrap, exposing the Wasp. A Wolverine’s autocannon bit deep into the light ‘Mech’s chest and its pilot fired his jump jets to bound back behind more substantial cover.

Alone the Wasps could have outrun her relief force but in addition to giving them more firepower the missile carriers mired them, for they were far slower.

Rounding the first line of buildings Susan saw that one of the missile carriers had blown up, the turret upended several yards from the tracks. One of the others turned its own turrets towards her, no less than sixty missile tubes on the low-slung turret, as the other two vehicles backed away, tracks digging into the dirt and gravel of the roadway.

Keeping her missile tubes closed, she rushed the carrier, firing just before it did. Her lasers bit into the forward glacis of the hull but her missiles were lost in the smoke as the missile load was fired directly into her.

Fortunately, Susan was inside the arming distance of the long range missiles – while the impacts staggered her and one missile starred the armoured glass of her cockpit, the damage was far less than it would have been if the warheads had gone off. Lurching through the smoke of the missile fire, she braced the Dervish’s weight on one foot and then crashed the other into the damaged frontal armour. Plating buckled and the missile carrier’s hatches popped open, crewmen fleeing. Gunfire from the next row of buildings cut two of the men down, a third reaching cover behind a stack of crates and cowering behind the shelter, clearly disinclined to continue the fight.

Longknife’s lance appeared on the other flank of the missile carriers and the two remaining vehicles came apart in the crossfire of the seven ‘Mechs. Although their armour was scored and paintwork a wreck, Susan was pleased to see that the other lance hadn’t taken any losses.

Checking for any further sign of the Wasps she spotted the turret of the first missile carrier destroyed, the one likely destroyed in the initial salvo from Greaney. The launchers were a different style from those of the other three and despite the heat of her cockpit she shivered. That one had carried short-range missile launchers – if it had survived then her close assault would have exposed her to a swarm of larger warheads that would have smashed her Dervish flat.

I think that was all my luck for today, she decided. Better to be more cautious in the future. “Don’t get split up,” she ordered. “Greaney, the carriers here are out but there could be more. Move up and join us, we’ll clear the site systematically.”

“Won’t that mean the Capellans can get away?”

“If they run then that’s good enough for me. We’re just here to relieve the place, not to try to rack up kill markings like those morons in the Eighth Fusiliers.” She’d seen some of the Falcon light ‘Mechs in that regiment swaggering around with carefully painted rings around their arms to signify claimed defeats over Liao ‘Mechs and armoured vehicles. There was some complex system of claiming victories and what each ring meant but all she’d taken away from that was that if she were to have been fighting against the Fusiliers she’d have made the ‘Mechs with the most rings priority targets.


Avalon City, New Avalon
Crucis March, Federated Suns
16 October 2760

“I’m glad we’ve been able to come to an agreement.” John shook hands with Erskine Cobb, the moment immortalised on holo-camera.

Over the next week or so this would appear as a minor note in the news media of hundreds of worlds and probably as a headline on Kathil. As CEO of General Motors, Cobb was one of the major movers and shakers in the Capellan March and its main manufacturing plants were located on Kathil. The deal that John had just signed off on would direct hundreds of millions of Star League dollars from the military budget to Motors, almost doubling their share of the lucrative military market.

“It’s been a genuine pleasure,” Cobb replied with apparent sincerity. “The SLDF turning the Blackjack down could have cost us dearly. It’s a pleasure to have the support of House Davion.”

“I wouldn’t be surprised if they reconsider after they see it in action with our regiments on the border. Your corporation has always provided quality products and I don’t see any reason to expect anything less.”

There was as much show as substance to that comment, but John could at least honestly say he had personal experience of one General Motors’ product: his personal ‘Mech was a Marauder, one of the most respected heavy ‘Mechs around and had been built by GM on Kathil.

Cobb released his hand. “Their loss, your gain.”

“When the Star League loses, we all do. But I’m glad to be able to step in where they didn’t.”

An aide ushered the business magnate in and John submitted to a quick brush down of his jacket by another attendant before heading back to his desk for his next meeting. “I hope the Blackjack is everything you told me,” he said in the brief moment of privacy he had.

“It just had bad press,” Hanse told him. “I don’t know where the rumours about it began but it’s a good, reliable ‘Mech. Not a showboat, but exactly the sort of workhorse you want on the frontlines.”

Owen opened the door. “Sire, Perry Lycomb of Lycomb Technologies.”

“Of course.” John rose and greeted the man with warmth. “I’ve been looking forwards to meeting you.”

“I feel the same way, your highness.” Lycomb shook his hand firmly. “I hope we can resolve the recent… disagreements that have arisen since May.”

“It was a terrible blow, seeing you targeted by terrorism like that.” John returned to his seat. “I understand the AFFS has offered to split costs for reconstruction with you. Those were certainly my instructions.”

Perry accepted the seat in front of John and Owen retreated. The businessman took a deep breath. “The offer’s been made, your highness and in many respects its very generous… but there are certain conditions that make us hesitant to accept the proposal.”

“He’s not going for it,” Hanse concluded.

With more practise, John avoided looking at his invisible advisor. “Would this be to do with the security concerns?”

“We have a great deal of investment – time, money and tradition – on Demeter.” Lycomb spread his hands. “Our workers are a community, almost an extended family. To ask them all to uproot from their homes and re-establish themselves halfway across the Inner Sphere… it’s just too much to do.”

“I can see your point of view, but really wouldn’t this be an investment in their safety – and that of their families? The Federated Suns has quite literally gone to war over the injury to Lycomb and while there’s been no further incidents on Demeter itself there’s no guarantee that the fighting couldn’t spread.”

The magnate nodded. “It’s much on my mind and we’ve had to hire additional security already for our remaining production facilities but the other factor is that moving our factories deeper inside the Suns could cost us some very important contracts.”

John raised an eyebrow. “You mean with the SLDF?”

“Quite.” Lycomb spread his hands. “We’re not just close to the Capellan Confederation on Demeter. While we’re bound by confidentiality as to the details, it can’t be a secret that the bulk of our production goes to the SLDF. It’s quite a coup to work with some of their cutting edge equipment and very few firms outside the Hegemony get the chance. If SLDF procurement felt that we were potentially open to… well, I don’t want to imply that you would be involved…”

“They’d think that my government was using you as a conduit to get hold of classified SLDF equipment.”

“Exactly! Even the perception could cost us heavily and since we won’t be assembling new Awesomes for some time to come we’ll depending on selling components for them and our aerospace division to remain solvent. Losing SLDF contracts – or worse, facing litigation – could destroy Lycomb.”

The prince turned his chair slightly. “Damaging relations with the SLDF certainly isn’t something I’d approve of, I can assure you of that. On the other hand, our policy of ensuring our sources of military hardware are from secure sources is built to a great extent on the dangers exposed by the damage done to your factories. Making an exception for Lycomb would difficult to justify.”

“I’m very sorry to hear that,” Lycomb answered, face solemn. “In that case I suppose we’ll have to find the money for reconstruction without your offer. I regret that we’re both in positions that we can’t find a compromise.”

“It’s unfortunate, and I’ll see if we might be able to find something else that we can offer that wouldn’t offend the SLDF.” John pushed his chair back. “Lycomb’s been good to the AFFS over the years and House Davion will not forget that.”

“In that case, your highness, I can assure you that I’ll be very pleased to consider any other proposals from the AFFS. I’m glad that we’ve at least now got a better understanding of what we’re each hoping for.”

“Absolutely,” John agreed and the two men shook hands again before Lycomb left.

“We’re going to need those heavy fighters, John. In fact, you need more fighters in general. Besides the Stuka the only other design being built in the Suns is the Centurion, you’re importing everything else.”

John nodded. “We’ll have to see how amenable they are to setting up an alternate facility. In the meantime maybe we can work something out with Boeing Interstellar. They’re already constructing a shipyard at Galax, which is certainly secure enough.”

“I didn’t know they were in the fighter market,” Hanse said in surprise. “Federated-Boeing were a standby of our dropship and jumpship production but they were focused on that.”

“I’m glad to know there are some gaps in your knowledge,” John said frankly. “They build the Hammerhead – which is pretty much reserved for militia use in the Terran Hegemony given the age but it’s a heavy airframe and not so advanced that building it in the Suns would upset the SLDF.”

“I can’t say I know the name.” The ghost made a face. “Probably it was another of those things we lost in the Succession Wars. Is it any good?”

John spread his hands. “I’m not a pilot. The navy would rather have more Stukas or Thunderbirds, but if we can’t get them then the Hammerhead would be better than nothing.”


High Orbit, Valexa
Sarna Commonality, Capellan Confederation
2 November 2760

At least the crew seemed to know what they were doing, Susan thought as she watched her ‘Mech move without her. The dropship that had lifted her to orbit would have to return for the other half of the Second Cuirassiers. Fortunately FSS Markesan was a dedicated transport with a dedicated ‘Mech deck that could accommodate a battalion of BattleMechs.

Right now her battered Dervish was locked into a transport cradle that would be guided on rails out the hatch and across the ship.

“Major,” a clipped voice offered from behind her. “Welcome aboard.”

It took Susan a moment to realise she was the one being greeted. Turning she saw a short, trim officer with a Leftenant Colonel’s two narrow stripes on his uniform epaulettes. Light Commodore was the naval equivalent she recalled and saluted him. “Sir. And it’s just Captain. I’m only provisionally in charge of the battalion.”

The corner of the man’s lips twitched in amusement. “Courtesy promotion, major. It’s a naval tradition that there’s only one captain on a ship.”

Her face coloured. “Sorry, sir. Protocol’s… slipped a little down there.”

“That I can understand – and between you and me, it’s caused the Department of the Army and Navy no end of issues over the years.” The twitch disappeared. “Part of the problem being that they think they can get the tradition to change when those are usually less flexible than regulation. I’m Markesan’s captain, Ken Jones.”

“Susan Sandoval.”

He nodded. “So I heard. Any relation to the Duke?”

“He’s my father.” Susan shrugged slightly. “Don’t put too much weight on the relationship – he wanted me to take a post in the Draconis March so he could keep an eye out for me, I came to the Capellan March because I don’t want that attention.”

“That’s very laudable, major.” She got the impression that Jones wasn’t being entirely sincere but she’d more or less got used to those reactions. “I’m afraid I’m not just here to greet you though. If I can persuade you to leave your ‘Mechs to my crew – they’re very good, I promise – then we do actually have some business to take care of.”

“Of course, sir,” she agreed quizzically.

“Wonderful.” He held the hatch for her in a gentlemanly fashion, ushering her across the dividing line between the dropship and FSS Markesan. “I gather you had a field promotion down there?”

“Yes sir, I had a lance when we landed.” Susan raised her chin in challenge. Six months wasn’t long to go from leading four ‘Mechs to almost forty but she wasn’t going to be put off just because naval promotions tended to be slower.

“Then I’m afraid I’ll have to be the one to break it to you that paperwork increases geometrically in relation to the number of people under your command.” Jones led her to what she recognised as an axial lift, the pair of them moving from handgrip to handgrip in micro-gravity. “In this case, my medical officer is nigh hysterical as your troops weren’t up to date on their inoculations.”

The brief acceleration of the lift pressed Susan’s feet against the floor for a moment. “We’ve had to prioritise and battlefield injuries tend to be more urgent.”

“You’ve nothing to justify to me. Unfortunately, the paper-pushers will have their due. We have all the necessary vaccines and whatnot aboard, but those are naval medical supplies and you’re from the BattleMech corps so you’re supposed to be getting this from your own medical service.”

Susan blinked. “Pardon me, Commodore, but do I understand that my people aren’t to receive the inoculations until we reach Goshen?”

“Oh nothing of the kind. We’ve already started on it, but unless we get your signature on the paperwork authorising the naval service to bill the BattleMech corps for it, well…” Jones shrugged wryly, “I’m not saying that the paper-pushers would court martial the two of us and my medical officer because they hadn’t been able to move some electrons around in the budget, but no one needs ‘suspected financial peculation’ on their permanent file.”

She groaned and leant back against the lift wall. “And I thought we were just fighting the Capellans.”

“I’m sorry I have to disillusion you.” Exiting the lift, the naval officer directed her towards a cramped compartment she realised must be the warships administrative officers. “However, now that you’re verging on being a field-grade officer you’ll have to get used to the idea that the AFFS is invariably, if informally, at war with the civilian arms of the government and engaged in a civil war between all internal factions. I’m continually amazed we ever find time to fight the Capellans or Draconians.”

“May God help us if we ever have to fight both.”

“There is at least the hope that they may be just as confused as we are.”

At least electronic forms meant not having to mess around with pen and paper in microgravity. Jones called up the necessary documents on a workstation and answered Susan’s questions as she worked through them, signing in the required boxes with an electronic stylus.

“Are you sure I’m not keeping you from your duties?” she asked. Didn’t the Markesan’s commanding officer have anything else to do but shepherd a temporary battalion commander through admin duties? There were Capellan ships in the system after all.

He pointed at one bulkhead. “We’re only three metres from the Combat Information Centre. If a crisis arises I’m available. Meanwhile my deck officers get the useful, if nerve-wracking, experience of being responsible for the ship on the frontlines, or as close as the naval side of things goes. I’m not too worried about anything happening while we’re in orbit, honestly. As far as the Capellans are concerned, if they blow us up right now then in the best case there’ll be shrapnel in orbit of Valexa for decades – and at worst the wreck could land as a single mass… that would be messy. No, if they try for an interception it’ll probably be near the jump points.”

“How very reassuring.”

“The odds are about fifty-fifty that we’ll run into someone. Since we were missed coming here with the Hussars, maybe we’ll see more action on departure.”

The little man seemed quite matter of fact about it, Susan thought. Then again, was it really any different from the situation on the ground? This was his battlefield and she’d have to assume he knew what he was doing, just as she did with other AFFS units on the ground.

Then again, Balbadd had taught her to take assurances with a pinch of salt. At least Jones’ nonchalance was a change from the sometimes colourful displays of confidence she’d encountered from fellow Mechwarriors.


Sidebar: Kearney-Fuchida

"It was a little like buses. Nothing for ages and then two came along at once."

The fundamental basis of interstellar transportation and communication lies in hyperspace physics, a field first theorised in the early twentieth century by Doctors Kearny and Fuchida in a series of joint papers. Practical application of their work didn’t result for almost a century until two universities independently produced results strongly suggesting that a circumvention of the limits of the speed of light might be possible after all.

The Terran Alliance Ship Pathfinder was the first starship, built at extreme expense to take man to the starts and it succeeded spectacularly, leaping from one star system to another in a split second. While the energy demands required long waits between such jumps, Mankind was primed and ready to leave the crowded Terra, yet the terraforming of Mars and Venus had been long term projects that couldn’t release this tension. Within only a few years the colony of New Earth was founded and many more followed.

The range of jumps increased as the science was refined and by the twenty-eighth century, the standard for modern vessels was thirty light years. In addition, integrating both a jump-core and in-system drives fell out of practise in favour of larger but cheaper jump drives with minimal crew quarters, equipped to recharge via vast solar sails instead of fusion reactors. These jumpships or boomers would then carry external payloads of dropships from system to system, with the dropships carrying cargos from the surface to jumpships that never needed to approach the planets they served.

The second application of hyperphysics waited for the Star League to discover. While jumpships could only operate in areas of effectively no gravity, millions of kilometres from planets or stars, it was discovered that microscopic jump transits could be created, repeatedly, to permit microwave transmissions through the effect.

Within decades this Hyperpulse technology cut message times across the Inner Sphere by half – far more than that in emergencies when extraordinary resources were authorised for reasons such as the convenience of the Star Lords. The entire industry of courier jumpships that had once served the interstellar states was rendered obsolete, almost overnight.

Kearny and Fuchida, scientists decades before their time, received the usual rewards. Driven out of the scientific community by the derision of their peers, both men died in poverty.

New Aquitaine, Gambier
Crucis March, Federated Suns
29 July 2761

The rolling hills of the military reservation were marked by the tracks and footprints of generations of combat exercises. More than a few of them had been laid down over the last three months with almost forty regiments assembled to test themselves for war.

Tanks, artillery, infantry and helicopters were all playing their role but it was ‘Mechs that were decisive – at least, that was what Joshua Davion had been taught at the academy. Six regiments were assembled here – the storied Davion Guards, the experimental and thus far unduplicated Ceti Hussars and four regiments so new that they hadn’t even been formally recognised on the rolls of the AFFS.

Provisionally, the new regiments had been designated as the Crucis Dragoons and quite a lot of their personnel were fresh from academies – New Avalon Military Academy like Joshua and their traditional rivals Albion, Goshen, Sakhara, Warrior’s Hall – but their leaders had seen action against the Capellans and been handpicked to pass on their experience.

Right now, the First Crucis Dragoons were the hunted, brigaded with infantry and armour, along with a battalion each of VTOLs and artillery. It was a well-balanced force but their mission wasn’t destruction as much as escape, for in this exercise they were up against Colonel Stopec’s own regiment and two of their sister regiments as well as three tank regiments and one of infantry.

Joshua’s Marauder left a new trail of markings from its hoof-like feet as he followed the regiment in their advance after the enemy.

“The Red Force’s skirmish elements are engaging the right flank near Bridge Three,” Captain Hodges informed them. “Their hover tanks and helicopters can get across the river but the rest of their force needs the bridge and Fourth Dragoons confirm they and the Fourteenth Panzer have their side of the bridge locked up. If anyone tries to get a column across they’re confident they can hold until we take them in the rear.”

“Colonel Stopec’s orders are to turn the formation to close in and encircle Red Force. If they’re testing Bridge Three then we can rush through Bridgetown while the left flank extends to reach the river upstream of Bridge Three.”

Joshua thought about that. “Captain, I realise I’m the FNG but isn’t running a fast column through an urban area generally not recommended?”

Thankfully Hodges didn’t rip his head off for the question. “You’re right that there’s a risk of ambushes, Sergeant. The Colonel’s decided it’s a risk we’re going to take so keep your eyes peeled.”

Bridgetown wasn’t a real town – instead it was a facsimile made up of pre-fabrication buildings, more than a hundred of them set up on one side of the river that cut through the training ground, overlooking Bridge Two.

Joshua noted as they approached that several of the buildings would need replacing soon – it was obvious that several mock battles had taken place here already and taken their toll on the structures. Rebuilding it would be a painstaking and probably painfully repetitive job for the AFFS engineers stationed on Gambier, or in other words good training for them.

“I’m highlighting routes on your tactical display,” Hodges instructed. “Caret’s one through nine – we’ll intersperse with the tank companies and follow the marked route through – those are the clearest streets available. If we’re blocked then don’t try to clear it or climb it, take a left and move over to the next route.”

That could leave the shoreline uncovered, Joshua noted – although to be fair, if the rightmost column went right there was nowhere to go but the water.

“As soon as we’re clear of Bridgetown we’ll reform before pressing on. And remember, we have a lot riding on this. If Red Force get out of the exercise area then we’ll be buying beer for the thirsty bastards next weekend and none of us want that.”

Moving at a steady forty kilometres an hour the tank line reorganised itself from a broad line behind the ‘Mechs into nine orderly columns, a tribute to their experience working together although Joshua would have been happier if they were driving something newer than Tiger mediums. Tanks like these had fought in the Davion Civil War of the twenty-sixth century and while they were certainly still deadly, they were no match tank for tank to the heavy Von Luckners operating with Red Force.

Hodges’ Marauder and the two Riflemen that filled out the command lance formed compact diamond with Joshua holding the rear position only a little raggedly. “Second Lance, you have the lead with two tank platoons behind you, then First Lance, the last tank platoon and finally Third Lance. And keep your eyes peeled – especially you, Sergeant Davion.”

“Yes, sir.”

He watched four of the company’s eight Wolverines move ahead while the others fell back. The first buildings were lower and widely spaced but up ahead he could see that the road narrowed and was flanked by four and five store apartment blocks, with even a pair of true tower rearing up near the bridge.

Flicking the Marauder’s sensors, Joshua grimaced as he confirmed his suspicion that the reinforced concrete made a nonsense of mag-scans. Infra-red might not be any better than normal light under these conditions and he switched back and forth between the two as the chin sensors tried to pick out any signs of infantry lying in wait.

So intent was he on his search that he misjudged the narrowing of the road and brushed the corner of one building with one of his arm-mounted weapon pods. The armour plated PPC and medium laser didn’t take any damage but glass and concrete broke under the impact and much of it rained down on the ground.

He paused his ‘Mech, appalled at the mistake and the tank behind him barely stopped in time.

“What are you playing at, Davion.”

“Sorry, hit a building.”

“It doesn’t matter,” Hodges responded. “Just get a move on.”

Good job there weren’t any Red infantry waiting in there, Joshua thought. I could have killed someone by mistake.

“Blockage ahead, sir. We could jump it.”

“Negative, turn left at the next junction – we’re sticking with the tanks,” instructed the captain.

Joshua reached the junction and followed Hodges, careful of the corner this time. The blockage looked as if half a building had slumped sideways across the road. It wouldn’t be too much of a problem for ‘Mechs but it wasn’t so definite for the tanks.

“Two blocks ahead we go right and we’re back on the next route,” Hodges reminded them. “Just keep going and we’re -”

“Tanks behind us!” came a scream, a sound followed by the popping of paint loaded missiles and autocannon.

Joshua spun his ‘Mech back towards the rear of the column and this time the tank behind really did drive into him, more than fifty tons of metal scything the bird-leg of his Marauder out from under him. He barely twisted to the side and avoided landing on the tank.

Oh god, what next!

What was next was a volley of fire that slashed through the air above his fallen ‘Mech. If he was still standing, his Marauder would have caught the bulk of it but as it was the two Riflemen caught the missiles on their rear armour. Red paint highlighted the hits and both ‘Mechs halted, arms falling slack by their sides as the battle computers judged them crippled or destroyed.

Rolling over, Joshua propped his Marauder up and opened fire with the weapons he could bring to bear. His autocannon missed, spraying blue paint-rounds up and above the two Dervishes that had moved into the junction. The PPC and laser in his left arm were more accurate – tuned down to training levels they still scorched the paint across the shoulder of the nearer of the two ‘Mechs, erasing the grinning wolf’s head that marked them as part of the First Crucis Dragoons.

“Contact!” he called in confirmation, hitting the regiment push since no one else seemed to have done so. “Hodges’ company, engaged by Red Force ‘Mechs in Bridgetown.”

Then there was a roar – as if heavy munitions were going off, live munitions. Dust or smoke seemed to billow up to engulf the Dervishes and when Second Lance’s Wolverines arrived, bounding over Joshua’s still prone Marauder, they too disappeared into the cloud.

“Dragon’s Bane!” Stopec’s roar cut through the radio waves. “All units hold your positions and regroup. Multiple buildings are down and Red Force is behind us. Report casualties and report if you still have a clear route back the way we came.”

Pushing off from the road, Joshua brought his Marauder upright. Some of the armour had been battered in the fall but otherwise everything seemed operational.

Hodges’ Mech moved up to his. “You okay, Sergeant?”

“Nothing worth mentioning, sir.”

“Check around the corner – just a peek though.”

Sticking the chin of the Marauder obediently out into the junction, Joshua cycled through his sensors and then – on impulse, pinged the road back with his radar and sonar. “Dust’s not settled, sir, but I think the rest of the company are intact, just blinded. I can’t tell about the tanks but there’s something at ground level behind them.”


They had in fact been blocked in when Von Luckner heavy tanks hidden in the ground floors of apartment blocks had driven away, yanking out key structural pillars to bring down walls onto the roads behind the advancing columns. While not unnavigable, the confusion caused by the dust and the ambush by Red Force Mechs had allowed the Von Luckners to build up a safe lead as they made for the edge of the exercise area.

The most Stopec could do was send his lighter elements back to chase them. Joshua and Hodges moved down to the shore and had some satisfaction in spraying fire at the helicopters and hovercraft that zipped past them, using the river as a road to safety.

At the end of the day though, the referees from the Ceti Hussars had no doubt who had achieved their goals. The First Crucis Dragoons, the ‘Wolf Dragoons’, had taken more damage over all in the brief skirmishing between light forces but the vast majority of their strength had withdrawn to fight another day.

“We’ve spent the last few months teaching the Dragoons, it shouldn’t be a surprise that they’ve gotten good,” Stopec informed the Mechwarriors at a combined debriefing and mess call that evening. “And if it’s taught us some painful lessons then better to learn them now than when we’ve got live ammunition coming at us.”

He picked up his bowl. “Anyone want to tell the class what they learned today?”

“That Wolves can run away real fast?” called a voice near the back.

“Well volunteered, Paget, I needed someone to help set up the field latrines.” Stopec didn’t even look up from the stew that had been prepared at the kitchen. “Anyone else.”

“Surprise as a combat multiplier,” offered Joshua.

“Yep, damn right. That was you, Davion? Good call in earlier, concise and to the point.” The colonel spooned up another mouthful and chewed. “Next?”

“Never underestimate what Major Sandoval will do for a beer?”

“You sure it was her?” asked Stopec.

“Respectfully, sir. Colonel Hammond is a tough fighter, but it’s Major Sandoval who comes up with the dirty tricks.”

“That’s right – good application of know your foe, it was indeed Sandoval’s idea. So… given we knew that she was in the Red Force, why do you think I took a chance and ran through the city instead of watching for an ambush.”

Joshua blinked. Was he admitting to a mistake? In front of the entire regiment?

Captain Hodges put his own bowl down. “Sir, sometimes you just have to take the chance.”

“Arguably, yes. What I should have done is scouted, sent a couple of companies ahead to check Bridgetown. They’d probably have gotten chewed up if they found the Red Force but we’d have sprung the trap before we were inside it.” Stopec lifted his bowl and poured the last of the stew into his mouth. After swallowing he wiped his mouth and beard. “Information wins wars. They knew what we were doing and we had no idea. Take that lesson and write it somewhere you won't forget it.”


Avalon City, New Avalon
Crucis March, Federated Suns
30 September 2761

The Great Hall of the Castle Davion glittered with light as the lamplight reflected off thousands of jewels as well as the silver and gold inlays of the floor. One of the balconies was occupied by an orchestra who’d been practising all year for the great events of the annual Royal Court.

John’s throne sat empty, for between dancing with Edwina and politicking with the High Council he’d not had a moment to rest since the start of the ball.

Empty but not alone for Hanse Davion stood upon the dais, watching the whirl of the Federated Suns’ elite with a rueful smile on his face.

“I appreciate your support for our new project.” Countess Peregrine Johnston was, among her many talents, an excellent dancer. John, who’d learned to dance simply because it was expected of him, always enjoyed dancing with her. It annoyed Edwina, since Peregrine’s husband was notably heavy-footed and protocol demanded that when one husband danced with the other’s wife, the reverse should always at least be offered.

With a slight bow, John released Peregrine’s hand. “I’m almost always favourably inclined towards patriotic endeavours, particularly one that offers to improve employment.”

The Johnstons owned a lucrative share of the New Syrtis mines, making them one of the wealthiest families in not only the Capellan March but the entire Federated Suns. John hadn’t been aware that with the military market on the rise that they were looking to invest. In the future that would have been, they’d have not found an opportunity until the collapse of the Terran Hegemony opened the damaged and bankrupt factories there to foreign ownership.

With the foreknowledge provided by Hanse, John had been able to bring that investment capital together with a heavy engineering firm on Barstow who had seen their exports to the Outworlds Alliance collapse in recent years. They’d already begun work on developing a new product – something of more interest to the SLDF and AFFS than it would be to civil engineers on Alpheratz.

The countess offered him a curtsey. “I won’t bore you with asking about the war, as so many have before.”

“Thank you for asking by not asking,” he replied gravely. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I fear I must rescue my wife’s toes from your husband.”

“Oh dear, now who will I find to dance with him,” Peregrine said brightly and flourished an ornate fan – this year’s great fashion statement – before giggling behind it.

“I do beg your pardon, Elias, but I believe the next dance is mine.”

“Of course, sire.” The count swept a gallant bow towards the happy couple. “I’ll just fetch my wife something from the bar while she’s finding another excuse not to dance with me.”

Edwina shook her head and used her own fan to hide a frown. “He’s a lovely man, but I do wish the three of you wouldn’t let their disparate aptitudes for dance overflow onto me.”

“But if you didn’t dance with him, everyone would think Peregrine was my mistress,” he protested innocently. “I don’t make these little rules of courtly conduct up, you know.”

“You’re impossible when you think you’re being funny,” she said. “The next dance had better be something slow.”

“It is,” John promised, hoping he’d remembered the musical order correctly. Fortunately he had and the two of them were able to slowly waltz.

“John,” she whispered. “Please don’t take the Fourth Guards to the front.”

“I can’t change it now. They were scheduled for it before Joshua chose them.”

”You could take the First – Stopec should stay here on New Avalon since you insist on going to the war yourself.”

“Joshua would never forgive me, and I’d be betraying every other soldier in uniform.”

“You promised me.”

“And if General Dixon had given me one victory, just one, I’d have been able to declare that we’d won and pull out. Instead he’s deadlocked us completely.”

Edwina let go of his hand. “If anything happens to my son, I will never forgive you.”

“That would make two of us.”

She smiled weakly. “I believe you. But for tonight… please make my excuses.”

“Of course.” John bowed over his wife’s hand and kissed it before she took her leave.

Edwina’s absence opened him up to no less than six queries as to her wellbeing as he made his way across the hall to where his mother was making conversation with other ladies of middle years. “Is Edwina well?” she asked directly on seeing him.

“I think she might be in need of someone to talk to that isn’t me,” John told her. “If you don’t mind the imposition.

“You’ve been a brute again,” she sighed melodramatically. “Your father was the same – never saw when I’d changed my hair. It’s a fortunate thing he looked so adorable when cluelessly asking ‘what did I do wrong’ or you’d never have been born.”

“That would have been just a touch inconvenient.” He was long used to his mother’s offbeat sense of humour and refused to rise to it.

“I’ll take care of it, dear. Please do me a favour though and rescue your uncle Thomas from Vasily – or is it the other way around? One or the other, but the Duchess is feeling neglected.”

Looking around, John spotted the Duke of Robinson standing near Thomas Green-Davion. “I’ll get right on with that, mother. Ladies.” He bowed to them and left as they rattled their fans in acknowledgement.

Crossing the floor again, he took a glass from one of the servants and sipped the wine. “Gentlemen.”

“Sire.” His cousin saluted, followed by the Duke. They made an odd pairing, the tall and austere Green-Davion next to the fleshy Sandoval who stared at the world through wire-rimmed spectacles.

“I’m sorry to interrupt your conversation, but I believe your wife is feeling unattended, Vasily.”

“Probably fretting about Susan again,” the duke observed. “I’d hoped we were through this after this last time. She wasn’t even scratched.”

“Go dance with her, Vasily,” Green-Davion advised. “There’s nothing worse for a marriage than letting your wife think you don’t have time for her.”

“Advice from the old married man.” Sarcasm dripped from the other man’s tone, for Green-Davion had never married.

“I’ve observed many as a disinterested outsider.”

Shaking his head, the lord of the Draconis March drained his glass and then headed determinedly across the hall in search of his bride.

Green-Davion rolled the stem of his own glass between his fingers, the wine rippling as he did so. “You and Joshua shouldn’t both take the field, you know.”

“I don’t expect to see a single Capellan soldier personally.”

“The best laid plans of mice and men…”

John shrugged. “I sent the men out and put the wrong officer in charge. If I don’t go there personally to fix it, how can they trust me again?”

“And if you get your head shot off, they’ll never have to trust you again. Stopec is more than able.”

For a moment, John was tempted to share the truth – that he needed to be there in order for Hanse to be useful there. There was nothing – as far as they knew – to prevent the other Davion from joining the expeditionary force on his own but since he wouldn’t be able to communicate with anyone, there would be no benefit. But John could go there and have the most experienced general in existence there as his advisor.

It was odd to think that, but it was also true. The SLDF had fought insurgencies for the most part. Even their suppression of the DCMS thirty years ago had been of limited scope compared to the battles Hanse had fought as a general and later as First Prince. No campaign since the Reunification War could compare to Operation Rat, which had smashed the Capellan Confederation and no other would until – unless, he promised himself – the Periphery uprisings and Amaris’ coup took place.

It was a sound argument but it wasn’t something he could tell, he decided. No, Thomas Green-Davion was just too sensible – likely John would be quietly restrained, Joshua transferred to the First Davion Guards as no longer in any way expendable and a regency established.

Edwina would probably be pleased but otherwise disaster.

“It’s something I have to do. I hope it’s never needed again.”

Green-Davion eyed him sceptically. “Now you sound like your grandfather. I had to bring him back from Royal to his wife. Don’t put your son or Stopec in that place.”


Leim City, Valexa
Sarna Commonality, Capellan Confederation
22 October 2761

It was inconceivable that the Maskirova hadn’t picked up on the face that John was bringing heavy reinforcements to the front. In order to maintain some degree of surprise, the Federated Suns Navy had scheduled only enough transports to move Stopec’s task force one jump at a time and Dixon himself had been advised to expect them in mid-November.

Instead chartered civilian vessels had had their ostensible schedules changed suddenly to provide a command circuit as far as Goshen where three warships and a military convoy were ready to bring the force in by an in-system jump point.

“Sire.” Dixon dropped to one knee before John as the prince entered the command post. “Welcome to Valexa. May I congratulate you on your deception as to when the reinforcements were to arrive?”

John stared at him and then around the command centre. It looked like what it was – a repurposed hotel lounge. Map flimsies covered tables and the bar was clearly still there and had been in use. “General Dixon, you are relieved.”

“Of course, sire. Naturally you have command.”

“You misunderstand.” John jerked his chin towards the door. “Pack your personal effects, there is a shuttle waiting to take you up to the ships.”

Dixon’s head jerked up.

“Sire?”

John looked around the room and then at Dixon’s staff. “Pack this up for transport. I will establish my headquarters in a more secure location.”

Without looking again at the humiliated general, he left the room and walked back into the hotel lobby. “Settle any accounts for the use of the facilities,” he instructed the first of his aides before turning back to the Colonels who had assembled from their regiment’s various positions. “Ladies and gentlemen, thank you for coming to greet me. I don’t feel this is a suitable location for an in-depth staff meeting but you may rest assured that I will be availing myself of your experience as we move to conclude our campaign here.”

“Colonel Simons.” He turned to the commander of the Thirty-Eighth Avalon Hussars, one of the two BattleMech regiments already on planet. “I’m pleased to inform you of your promotion to the rank of Major General. I understand your regiment is positioned outside the planetary capital.”

“Yes sir, although quite a distance outside, tell the truth.”

“The Capellan fire base you’ve taken over will serve as my operational headquarters. Please see that General Dixon’s former staff are relocated there – you may assume they are now your staff and that you will be taking charge of operations on the western continent.”

“Some of you may recall Colonel Paxson of the 86th Light Infantry who served here previously? No? Unfortunate. The Colonel has also been promoted to Major General and will be taking charge of the eastern continent operations henceforth.”

“Sire, you can’t really mean to put an infantry officer in command of my ‘Mechs!” exclaimed a broad-shouldered man. John took a moment to identify him as Colonel Toland of the Twelfth Syrtis Fusiliers, rotated in recently to replace the Eighth regiment of the same formation.

“You may generally assume that I mean what I say, Colonel.”

“But sir, an infantryman can’t be expected to understand how to properly employ BattleMechs in the field. I’m sure he’s an excellent commander of infantry, don’t get me wrong, but there’s -”

“You are of course free to resign your commission if you feel unable to subordinate yourself to the proper chain of command.” John gave him a cool look. “Or, if you feel he requires advice then you may provide it in a respectful fashion and accept his decisions as your appointed commander. I would personally recommend the latter but if your conscience dictates…”

Toland stared at the Prince and then at the other colonels. The only one of them who met that look was Simons, who simply shook his head. “I look forward to being proven wrong, sire.”

“Excellent.” John drew himself up and saluted the Federated Suns colours in the corner as one of Dixon’s staff picked up the flagpole to move it outside. “Then I will be meeting those of you now under General Simons command this evening. General Paxton will advise those of you on the eastern continent of when a similar staff meeting will take place for his officers.”


Camp Stone, Valexa
Sarna Commonality, Capellan Confederation
22 October 2761

The Capellan fortification hadn’t been a permanent facility, or rather it had been intended for only small scale occupation – perhaps a local battalion of the planetary militia. Pre-fab cabins and a bulldozed berm had converted it to house tanks and a full regiment of infantry before Simons advance a month before had pushed the troops in question back to the planetary capital, Parthevia.

The command facilities were crude – an unimpressive bunker that could only claim to be weatherproof because the mud had been tracked there rather than seeping through cracks. John elected to brief outside instead, rain beating on the open-sided tent that now housed Dixon’s collection of optimistically annotated maps. Some still bore grease-pencil markings suggesting Parthevia would fall the previous October.

Examining the folder in front of him one last time to make sure he was familiar with the details of what he and Hanse had worked out as a plan, John finished the last of his coffee and then looked up at the seated officers waiting for him to begin.

He closed the folder with a snap. “Colonels. General Simons. It is imperative that we conclude our mission here on Valexa within the next three months. In order to do this we need to secure only one objective. Reaching out with a pointer he indicated Parthevia, specifically the spaceport on the outskirts of the city. “The Capellans, being the enemy, are an obstacle to this. They are not an objective in and of themselves. General Paxton’s command, being quite some distance away, are concerned only with supporting us in our objective, which they will do by diverting as much attention and resources as possible to the eastern continent.”

“Please remove from your minds any other geographic location on Valexa, or any idea of destroying the enemy army. Our goal is this military spaceport with its facilities, valuable to the Capellan Confederation Navy for the repair and maintenance of its military dropships. We will destroy those facilities and we will then withdraw from Valexa, having achieved our mission.”

There was a murmur from the officers and General Simons cleared his throat. “For the purposes of clarification, sire, what you’re saying is that we’re giving up on the goal of occupying Valexa for the Federated Suns.”

John restrained the urge to snap at the man. “Occupation has never been the objective here. The previous commander appears to have been the victim of mission creep. We are here as a punitive measure, to redress the Capellan-sponsored terrorism on Demeter.”

“Thank you for confirming that, sir.”

“Of course, General.” John turned back to the map. “In order to seize the spaceport we’ll first be launching a decoy attack west of the river, to suggest that we’re trying to encircle the city. The goal here is to draw mobile forces across the river. Once this is done, air-strikes will be used to destroy the bridges…”

As John continued to lay out his plan, he saw the officers begin to take notes. At least, he hoped that was what they were doing. If they were simply doodling then he’d lost them and he needed their confidence if this was going to work. There was a delicate balancing act between pushing hard enough to have a victory that could be claimed at New Avalon, without going too far to back down once the Star League Council convened next year.

“So that’s the basic plan,” he concluded. “Are there any questions or recommendations?”

Major Sandoval – who looked barely older than Joshua! – raised her hand. “Sire, the plan appears to depend on Capellan forces crossing the river to engage the decoy force. If they choose not to – or if they managed to ford the river without the bridges, then we’ll have a significant portion of our forces isolated across the river while the Capellans can concentrate on the units moving in on the spaceport.”

“That is a concern, Major. How do you recommend we respond if those cases develop?”

“To lay the ground work for the second situation, I’d recommend that the airstrike on the northernmost bridge be a feint with the pilots under orders to only damage the bridge without dropping it – missing entirely with bombs, for example. If the Liao regiments see a clear route back then they’ll likely take it even if it’s less than optimal and that bridge is far enough north that using it would delay them for hours. Optimistically, forces could even move out of the city to secure it against further airstrikes.”

A second officer pointed at the map. “And to make it look tempting to come across the river, we could set up an infantry position at this village where it would seem exposed to a counter-attack…”

Hanse was nodding enthusiastically as the meeting began to liven up, points being raised and argued over. John set his pointer down and let Simons take over directing the discussion and refining the plan.



Sidebar: BattleMechs

"Infantry remains queen of the battlefield, but the ‘Mech is the king and we all know what the king does to the queen."

As wars between the vast interstellar states of the twenty-fourth century expanded in scope, solutions were sought to the immense logistical challenges that had been faced during the Outer Reaches Rebellion a century before. The development of the aerospace fighter, capable of combat in both atmosphere and outer space revolutionised aerial combat during this era, reviving the idealistic notion of a single warrior contending with rival peers.

This ideal reached surface combat in 2439 when the Terran Hegemony developed a new generation of artificial muscles (myomers) that had already been used for prosthetics and for humanoid industrial robots. Under the auspices of Director-General Jacob Cameron, the Mackie – a hundred ton behemoth loaded with advanced technology quite literally crushed no less than four remotely operated tanks under-foot in a matter of minutes.

Over the following decades, Terran military successes drove their neighbours to acquire this technology at any price. Realising their lead was temporary, the Hegemony responded with a succession of more advanced and specialised designs over the decades – some of them copied by the other states who were also developing new models of their own.

The Ares Conventions, signed in 2412, had enshrined the idea of limited wars. Now those wars could be fought with the firepower of a platoon or company concentrated in the hands of a single highly-trained warrior. Mobile campaigns could be fought by comparatively tiny and easily transported forces free to operate away from population centres due to their small logistical footprint. Within a generation, the Mechwarrior had become the military elite, romanticised by some as a modern knighthood and despised by others as glory hounds and prima donnas.

Ranging from twenty to a hundred tons, powered by a fusion reactor, even an unarmed ‘Mech can destroy a city by walking through it carelessly. (Admittedly, it might take a while). Wrapped in layers of heavy armour, they’re armed with potent lasers and particle beams, batteries of missile launchers and rapid-firing autocannon. In the head, a pilot can deploy of this with unmatched mobility, constrained only by on-board ammunition stores and keeping the heat of the fusion reactor under control.

Court of the Star League, Unity City
Terra, Terran Hegemony
19 February 2762

The First Lord had arrived before anyone for this session – anyone but Amaris who once again sat at his side. On seeing them, Takiro Kurita paused and eyed them with inscrutable old eyes before moving to where Janina Centralla had sat herself. “Be as good as to exchange seats with me, Magestrix,” he half-requested and half-directed. “It hurts my neck to have to turn to see the First Lord.”

Centralla eyed him and then shrugged. “Fine.” She moved to sit between Amaris and Calderon, completing a new division of the Council. Now the six voting Lords formed an arc along one wing of the table – Cameron, Liao, Steiner, Davion, Marik and finally Kurita – while the four Periphery lords occupied the other, facing them.

Richard signalled for the doors to be closed. “Our first item of business is the matter of Federated Suns troops on three Capellan worlds. Lord Davion has requested arbitration and Lady Liao has requested SLDF support in removing those forces. Does anyone else wish to have a say?”

“If Liao can’t look after her own worlds I don’t see that it’s my problem.” Unsurprisingly, that came from Ewan Marik.

Takiro shook his head. “Being on the Council makes it your problem. However,” he added smoothly, “I note that the Chancellor declined arbitration and only asked for the SLDF support after Prince Davion and his famous Colonel Stopec had begun to make real progress in taking control of two of the contested worlds.”

“Noted,” Richard said tersely. He looked at Robert Steiner who simply shook his head. “Very well. I call for a vote on whether the Star League should mobilise for war against the Federated Suns, as the aggressor in this matter.”

John blinked and Hanse, who had been shamelessly spying over Barbara Liao’s shoulder, straightened sharply.

“Aye,” the chancellor declared quickly. Silence fell and she looked around for support, finding none.

“Nay,” John said and turned to look at Richard.

“I will assume silence as abstention,” the teenager said haughtily. “With two votes cast and a tie, the motion fails. Are there any motions for war against the Capellan Confederation?”

John shook his head.

“Aye!” called Ewan. “Good plan!” He even broken into vigorous applause that echoed around the room even though everyone else was looking at him in disgust.

“You can’t possibly be serious,” Liao protested. “We are the victims.”

“You didn’t object when I raised the possibility of declaring war on the Suns,” Richard said cheerfully. “Do you wish to cast a vote?”

“Nay!”

“Also nay,” added John.

“Very forbearing of the First Prince,” murmured Amaris. Perhaps it was John’s imagination but the rotund Rim Worlder seemed to be eyeing him suspiciously.

“Two nays, one aye. Motion fails.” Richard shrugged. “Now do correct me if I’m wrong, but as First Lord I can authorise defensive actions by the SLDF without a declaration of war.”

“That is correct.” Nicoletta Calderon gave the other side of the table a snide look. “Will you be separating them like naughty children?”

“More or less.” Richard stabbed his finger down on his controls. The holographic display popped up, revealing General Kerensky’s head, magnified to fill the space. “General, I hope you have contingencies for sending peacekeepers to Valexa and the other contested worlds?”

“I do, sir. LV Corps has three infantry divisions and supporting elements ready to move in and separate the combatants, should the command be given.”

“Do it then. And since they are Capellan worlds, do encourage the AFFS to return to their proper place.” Richard cut the channel. “So, that settles that. Next on the agenda?”


Avalon City, New Avalon
Crucis March, Federated Suns
3 April 2762

John’s return from Terra coincided with the arrival of some of the forces from the war. More than seventy individual regiments had participated in some way and many had instead been rotated to new garrison positions. The Crucis Dragoons in particular were replacing well-entrenched regiments that hadn’t moved postings in years – but all four had detached twelve Mechwarriors chosen from those being decorated or promoted to join ten carefully chosen battalions and one of the Ceti Hussars’ combat commands for the triumphant return to New Avalon.

The day had been declared a public holiday and as the units solemnly marched from the space port to Mount Davion the streets were lined with cheering visitors from all over New Avalon and from many other worlds besides.

“You’d not think that there were so many people out there who missed that we didn’t accomplish a thing,” Stopec grumbled from one of the open-topped cars carrying John and his senior officers.

“We accomplished more than you might think,” John told him. “And keep smiling – we’re on display.”

“It was a political victory,” Hanse said from the only free seat, next to the driver. “Worthwhile but a lot less than you were hoping for.”

“We hadn’t seen war since the ‘30s,” the dark-haired prince reminded his Champion. “This was our first test of the reforms Uncle Richard and I have been pushing. And at least we know now that we’ve not made as much progress as we’d hoped. And what you managed with the Dragoons shows us the right direction to go.”

“And where we stand with Cameron.”

“We were never going to be able to keep those worlds. The only person who ever put that out as a goal was Dixon. Now the Capellans know that we can be pushed to the point of crossing the border they’ll have to tread more carefully and so will the Combine.”

“It’d had better be worth it.”

John nodded and waved to a little cluster of school children, who’d apparently been organised as a visit for the occasion. “You saw how much damage was done on Angelsey, just as collateral to the fighting. Imagine that all along the borders – and not just for a year and change, but for decades or a century. That’s what a full scale war would mean. You tell me, is avoiding it worth what our men paid for it?”

Stopec turned his head and forced a smile out of the window to where flags included not only the sword and sunburst but also wolves, bears, jaguars and falcons – the badges of the four Crucis Dragoon regiments. “The League would have to fall first.”

“The League could fall. There have been fractures growing for years and no one seems to be trying to mend them. I don’t mind Richard claiming to be the peacemaker if that gives the League a little more stability.”

The parade reached the edge of the Royal Court, no less crowded but more by government workers or noble families. John spotted a dozen members of the High Council he’d thought would be on their home worlds as the limousine reached one of the formal entrances.

The parade divided with the heavy combat vehicles following a side-road towards the hangers and infantry – riding floats rather than expected to march – instead taking a path towards the barracks. The limousine pulled up before the high neo-classical front of the Chancellery of the Exchequer building. The high pillared Chancellery had become iconic for some reason and thus John made a habit of returning the Castle Davion through it even when he had no particular grounds to call upon this branch of Ways and Means.

Stepping down from the car, John and Stopec waited for the generals in the next car to join them. Paxson and Simons would be available for reassignment now that the campaign was over and Hanse had made excellent recommendations for how they could be employed.

“Are you going to make a speech?” asked Stopec, jerking his jaw to indicate a small group of holovid reporters waiting eagerly near the foot of the stairs.

“Not today. Better to give the soldiers the spotlight today,” John decided. “We’ll touch base with the High Command and then call it a day. Sufficient unto the day is -”

“Down!” Stopec shouted and shoved John violently to the side.

Landing heavily, John rolled down the steps they’d just begun to climb. Almost instantly two of the security men from the next car had dived across him, covering him with their bodies but also pressing him against granite stairs.

“Sniper!” Hanse hissed from somewhere outside his – currently restricted field of vision. “Top of one of the tower blocks – shouldn’t there be police counter-snipers up there.”

“What’s going on?” he demanded from under his guards.

“Michael’s down, doesn’t look serious,” the redhead told him. “Simons and Paxson dragged him down behind the car. Just stay down, a helicopter’s going after that rooftop – should be clear to get inside shortly.”


Avalon City, New Avalon
Crucis March, Federated Suns
4 April 2762

Footage of the incident was playing on one of the background monitors in AFFS command centre, one of the media channels that was kept live at all times so John couldn’t get away from it.

“For those concerned,” he announced, “Colonel Stopec only took a glancing hit to the side. Avalon City police and Military Intelligence are continuing their investigation but considering the sniper decided to jump rather than be captured, chances of getting a definite answer to who was behind the incident are slim. Anything else you get from the media is pure speculation.

“Which still leaves the Maskirova as the most likely culprits,” Erik Pond pointed out.

“Most likely, but not confirmed.” John shook his head. “Further inflaming the matter isn’t in the Suns’ best interests so we’re not going to indulge in accusations we can’t back up.”

He took his seat and saw Hanse slip into Stopec’s place on his right. “Alright, what’s first on our agenda today?”

“Jerricho Industries have sent an update on their progress with the Swordsman project.” Heather Green-Davion, Thomas’ niece and head of Supply’s Procurement Department brought up a diagram. “The SWD-3 has completed prototype testing and they estimate that they can have it back in production by the end of the year if funding is approved.”

“Good. What do the test pilots say?”

She checked her diagram. “They’re not effusive, sire. It works, but really it’s not much more than a cut-rate Shadow Hawk – or maybe Andoran’s Clint would be a better comparison.”

“Given that that’s what the goal is, I don’t have a problem with that. And are the technical teams happy that it’ll be reliable in the field?”

“That’s more favourable.” Heather shifted the display to show maintenance reports following each test cycle. “Of course, other than the switch to use modern parts where the originals are no longer available, the Swordsman is a proven design.”

“Rostov’s design.”

John shrugged. “It may have served with General Rostov’s Terran March troops during the Civil War but I’m prepared to give the design a second chance. We’ve stripped our planetary and March militia units of a lot of personnel and equipment in order to build up more line regiments. Something cheap and reasonably capable is exactly what we need to rebuild secondline forces. Unless anyone has strong objections…?”

No further objections were raised and John signed off on payment for the first production run of the Swordsman. “If the first run meets standards then we’ll look at activating the clause to license a second manufacturer,” he instructed Heather. “We don’t want all our eggs in one basket.”

“I’ll make a note of that.” She cleared the display. “Next is Personnel, I believe.”

Eis Moscoe stood. “Training numbers are ramping up on schedule, more or less,” he advised. “The fighting has set back expansion plans but with wounded personnel returning from hospital, we should be able to man two additional BattleMech regiments and three armoured regiments next year, rather than four of each as previously expected. Infantry losses were heavier and had a higher percentage of killed in action, so it’ll be eighteen months before I expect to have brought existing regiments and reserves up to the point we can raise new regiments.”

“You mentioned an interesting point there – concerning might be another word,” John noted. “But we’ll come back to that in a moment. Given their excellent performance in the training exercises on Gambier and then in action on Valexa, the new regiments are to be raised under the colours of the Ceti Hussars. More specifically, General Paxson - who will be taking charge of the Hussars overall – has been instructed to their existing personnel as cadre to expand up to three times their current numbers. New academy and training school graduates are more likely to be replacing volunteers for the Hussars than to be directly transferred – although top ten percenters may request the assignment, as usual.”

“I hadn’t understood them to be heavily engaged on Valexa.” The question came from Vasily Sandoval who wasn’t a regular attendee.

“They weren’t, but they still kept the Capellans hopping – not an easy balance to strike.”

“Ah, interesting.” The duke brightened at that – he’d risen through his excellent grasp of terrain and tactics rather than direct combat experience. “I’d be glad to have them on the Draconian border then, once Paxson’s worked the rough edges off their new regiments.”

“It’s a little early to commit to anything for that,” John told him. “But I’m sure the vote of confidence will be well received. Now, the point I was referring to earlier was the casualty rates among infantry. I realise that they’re not protected by several tons of armour, but that doesn’t mean there’s nothing that we can do to keep losses down. I’ll be ordering a full review of where we could have done better, pulling a panel together from the major academies but two things have stood out even from the overviews and my limited time on Valexa.”

“Firstly, there was a lot of unnecessary administration tied up in handling the wounded. I’m not saying that any medical personnel were less than diligent, but they were also spending too much time handling paperwork because casualties came from outside their particular arm.”

“Secondly, some regiments saw disproportionately heavy head wounds among their wounded and killed. Unsurprisingly, those regiments are the ones who customarily issue caps rather than helmets in the field. Now I’m not a great believer in trampling on traditions unless there’s good reason, but I believe that the lives of our soldiers are damn good reasons to look at traditions and see if they’re becoming a liability.”

There were nods around the table. “The solution about headgear is obvious, sire. Withdraw caps for combat duty and make helmets mandatory for all units. I can have a new uniform regulation drafted and ready for review by next week,” Moscoe offered.

“Make it very clear, Eis. I don’t want any wriggle room. If any regimental commanders feel they can’t live with the changes, there’s plenty of room for them as battalion commanders – or as riflemen.”

“That, I can do.”

“Good man. The second step is to reform our medical arms. What I’m looking at is pulling all medical services out from under the administration of the combat corps and navy, organising a specific medical corps that’ll handle all medical needs across the entire AFFS.” John paused and then cupped his hands. “Is that outraged screaming I hear from your department, Van?”

“Not so funny, sire.” The head of Military Administration, Vanessa Manabe raked her greying hair back. “Given the amount of paperwork we already trade for those services, I can probably free up a lot of desks, so there will be screaming.”

“Just give me the names and I can ship them out to the far corners of the realm,” offered Moscoe with a grin. “I can always use more field grade officers and sergeants for staff slots.”

John chuckled. “It’ll only get worse, Eis. But I’m not married to the idea yet – if anyone has alternative solutions then I’m open to recommendations. I’d like to have a decision by September, in time for the next budgetary discussions so we’ve got time to put proposals together.”

“Speaking of staff positions…”

“Something you forgot for the agenda?” asked Pond. “Or sneaking it in?”

“Nothing hugely important.” Moscoe fiddled with a stylus. “We’ve been considering inserting a new rank between the current Major General and Colonel ranks with the number of multi-regiment commands that we’re having to deploy with the expanded force numbers.”

“Yes, Leftenant General isn’t it?” asked John.

“Well NAMA threw a fit – apparently we used to have the rank but it sat between Major General and General, not where we want the new rank.”

“I see…” John said slowly, broadly hinting that he didn’t.

“How is a leftenant more important than a major,” asked Manabe in confusion. “Besides, don’t the SLDF have Leftenant Generals with the basic position you’re talking about?”

Moscoe chuckled. “Yes, but apparently they’re wrong. You really don’t need the headache - or at least I don’t. Ask Professor Quinn if you’re really interested. Anyway, to keep them happy we’ve changed the name and picked something historically appropriate and easy to remember. Since the new rank is for brigade command, it’ll be Brigadier General.”

Hanse shook his head. “Leftenant General worked perfectly well in my AFFS,” he complained.

“Whatever keeps the historians happy,” John decided. “That’ll be fine, Eis. You can start shortlisting promising Colonels for me, just make sure we’re not restricting our selection to Mechwarriors. There’s a lot of talent in the other arms and we can’t afford to waste good soldiers with any kind of glass ceiling.”


Summer Palace, Sian
Sian Commonality, Capellan Confederation
9 August 2762

Among the Chancellor’s many interests was art. Long before she took office, she’d begun the process of redecorating the Summer Palace and acquiring objects d’ art to fill its rooms. Several recent acquisitions stood in her office, giving her time to consider where they might be placed for maximum effect.

Since his mistress repositioned her acquisitions on whim – or as she put it, to compare the light – and moved items in and out, Tai Yang Gwak found there was always a certain challenge in threading your way past them to the desk. Younger and healthier    men might have found it easier, but his next birthday would be his ninetieth.

“You summoned me, your Excellency.”

Barbara Liao looked up from the document she was studying. “I have been known to do that, Director.”

“It’s always my pleasure to attend to your desires.”

“I’m glad you enjoy your work, Tai Yang.” She pointed to one of the stands. “Look at that picture, then the one next to it.”

Obediently, the old man compared the two.

“What’s your first thought,” asked the Chancellor.

He considered. “Should there be a third one, between the two perhaps?”

“Exactly!” She closed down her computer. “They’re part of a series of landscapes by the 22nd century artist Frankie Lam and I’m missing one. Well, two, but the other one was inferior and these two would be perfect for the green suite if I had the one that belongs between them as well.”

“I shall see what I can do for you, your Excellency. I assume that the owner is not one of your patriotic subjects.”

Barbara Liao gave him a sour look. “The Duke of Bolan. I made him a very decent offer.”

Tsk. That always complicated matters. “Something may be feasible, your Excellency.”

“And while you’re here,” she folded her hands in her lap. “I’m concerned by some of the recent recommendations I’ve received from the Strategic Military Director.”

Ah, the real issue, Tai Yang thought. “The analysis of the recent unpleasantness on Valexa and Angelsey.”

“Precisely. It appears that the Command Council are not in favour of the theory that the sudden inability of the deployed forces to resist the AFFS during the last months of the campaign was not due to any great excess of tactical or strategic skill on the part of Prince Davion or of his Champion.”

“While it is pleasing to believe that the enemies of the realm are paragons of ineptitude, this may breed a degree of overconfidence.”

“To clarify, they concede that the Prince is marginally more able than General Dixon, who they were able to constrain adequately. However, they believe that the defensive positions held by our forces were sufficient that neither inspired leadership nor the increase in troop numbers by the AFFS were decisive factors.”

“These being factors that the officers in command of Sarna Commonality lack, it is pleasing to think that they are held in low regard.”

“Would it surprise you to learn that they feel the key advantage posed by the AFFS was that Prince John organised his forces into a series of hierarchical brigades and divisions with a chain of command that permitted officers to operate with improved coordination and discretion rather than directing all operations through a single planetary headquarters?”

“That is a very interesting position for them to suggestion, your excellency. One might almost think that a similar degree of organisation is being advocated as an innovation by the Strategic Military Director.”

“Quite. I take it I don’t have to remind the director of why my ancestor abolished all military ranks above that of Colonel in 2455?”

“While I’m not quite so old as to have first-hand knowledge of the event, the sad death of Chancellor Stephan Liao and the quite reasonable measures taken by his successor are familiar to me in general.”

The Chancellor nodded. “Tai Yang, please ensure that the Strategic Military Director is acquainted with the reasons that his position is unacceptable.”

“The virtuous actions of one’s ancestors are always to emulated, Excellency.” Tai Yang bowed deeply. “One must enquire if there is any other way in which I may serve you?”

“Perhaps. Is there more news regarding Prince Davion’s near encounter with mortality in April?”

“Nothing convincing, alas. Certain evidence pointed towards the Terran Hegemony but my understanding is that the evidence was felt to be a fabrication. Without any further leads, it seems likely that the official response will be that it was a lone madman.”

“I would be exceptionally displeased if it were to be associated with us, Tai Yang.”

“There are two unquestionable points of evidence that prove that the Maskirova were uninvolved, Excellency,” the Director of that agency replied calmly. “Firstly, that you have never ordered such an operation and we would never presume to make a move of such strategic weight without your express approval.”

“And second?”

“He missed, your excellency.”

The chancellor was laughing merrily as Tai Yang made his way back towards the door, already considering who he might assign to the assassination and the acquisition that he’d been charged to arrange.


Avalon City, New Avalon
Crucis March, Federated Suns
21 September 2762

“That’s it!” Hanse exclaimed loudly, right as John was taking his shot. While it didn’t entirely ruin his shot, the laser hit the target on the 8 ring rather than dead centre, which he felt he could reasonably have expected given his last four shots had been perfect.

“Aha,” General Manabe said cheerfully as the prince valiantly fought not to shoot a death glare in the direction of the abashed ghost. Given the head of Military Administration had only been one point behind her commander-in-chief. “A little distracted, were you, sire?”

“I don’t make excuses.”

She lined up her shot carefully… and penetrated the nine-rang. “Ah, deuce it!”

“A draw’s a draw.” John picked up the two ten dollar bills between their shooting positions and handed one back to Manabe. “Better luck next time we’re requalifying.”

“There’s no way it’s a draw. The computer’s going to percentage score us on how close we were in each ring.” Manabe waved the money in front of John. “Just wait for it to keep processing.”

John sighed and stripped the power pack out of his rifle, safing it as they went back to the range master. “Sign us off for the re-qual?” he asked.

“Pair of forty-eights is well in the zone, sire.” The sergeant accepted the rifles to return to storage in the arms locker.

“Full scoring please,” Manabe requested. “There’s money riding on it.”

“Oh?” Poking at the computer, the range master printed off two result cards. “Here you go, forty-eight point six-two and point six-one.”

Manabe stared at the second printout and made a pained noise. The prince held out his hand and she grudgingly handed over the ten dollars. “I was so close!”

“Yes, but you need to learn when to quit,” he advised and dropped the notes into the Widows and Orphans collection box on the desk. It wasn’t as if the AFFS didn’t have pensions and other insurance for the families of their dead, but sometimes the fund managed a more personal touch.

The two parted ways and John opened the door to the emergency stairwell to go back upstairs rather than the lift. The exercise was a good excuse and no one else really used them. “So what was that about?” he asked once they were a flight of stairs up from the range.

“We’ve been looking for somewhere to hide orbital factories,” Hanse reminded him.

“Ah, and you have an answer?” Several of the more advanced military technologies required manufacture in micro-gravity, which certainly wasn’t unaffordable but as Hanse’s hindsight pointed out, left the factories vulnerable to warship raids or even fighter strikes, unlike more conventional facilities that could be dug into the ground beneath mountains or any number of other planetary locations. In the Succession War he’d told John about, virtually all factories producing vital materials as endo-steel – very useful in ‘Mech chassis and heatsinks – had been destroyed by strategic raids.

“Tortuga!”

John frowned. “Where?”

Hanse groaned. “It’s a pirate stronghold between the Outworlds Alliance and the Taurian Concordat,” he lectured. “Tortuga’s a fairly nice world, actually, but the pirates just stripped what they could easily get at. We tracked it down in 3042 and finally wiped the pirates out. Even if the Tortuga Pirates are known, no one knows it’s there – it isn’t even on Star League maps.”

John paused on a landing. “So you’re suggesting we move orbital factories out to somewhere in the periphery? That doesn’t exactly sound secure.”

“The star has quite a deep gravity well and some massive asteroid belts that are well above the orbital plane of Tortuga itself. Short of a star cluster like the Hyades, it’s as secure as it could be – low emissions factories could work there with no one the wiser even if they did happen to jump in.”

“That does sound promising,” he agreed thoughtfully. “But we’d need to get some troops out there to secure the place first – the pirates would be an immediate threat – and then ship a lot of tooling at a minimum.” Starting up the stairs he stretched out his hands.

“We have the perfect cover just waiting to be used,” Hanse explained teasingly. “Think about it.”
 
“I’m not really in a mood for games, Hanse.”

“The solution is the military exercises scheduled for next year. Almost two hundred regiments drilling in the Crucis March – with all those ships moving, it would be simple to detach a few regiments without mentioning it and send them out with sealed orders. Since all troops movements are intended to move under wartime security, no one will be surprised if they can’t identify all the units – in fact, changing markings for some units so the assigned regiments can be sighted a couple of times should cover for it even within the AFFS.”

“Until they get back at least,” John conceded. “But I suppose that most of the soldiers wouldn’t need to know where they are or that they were doing more than eliminating a pirate stronghold. The sensitive data would be in the hands of the ship crews.”

“If you can’t find two or three reliable jumpship crews, then you have bigger problems than I realised.”

John shook his head and began climbing the stairs again. “So, out of interest, how precise is your information about Tortuga – from what you’re saying it’s not a good system to jump into and I don’t recall your myriad skills including being a jumpship navigator.”

“That’s true,” Hanse admitted thoughtfully. “I can probably narrow it down to within about… a thirty light year sphere, say?”

“That’s the better part of twenty seven thousand square light years,” he calculated. “I can see why it took you hundreds of years to find them.”

“Turn the Ministry of Information loose on the problem. Discreet investigation and analysis is what they exist for. Some of the pirate raids over the last few hundred years might have clues.”

John shook his head. “What can you tell me about them?”

“Well the original settlers were a tank regiment from the Reunification War. They went rogue after a mission went wrong and settled on Tortuga to nurse a grudge.”

“Are you telling me they’re a rogue Taurian colony? Because that’s not the sort of people I want near a secure factory.”

“Rogue AFFS, actually. The 237th Light Cavalry regiment I think – it’s not something I kept close tabs on.”

“I see.” He reached the landing for the residence wing and paused at the door. “Are there any other little surprises lurking out in the Periphery I should know about.”

“Last time I told you about someone, you decided to give the Crucis Dragoons badges for the Invading Clans. I’m thinking a lot more carefully about what I tell you.”



Sidebar: History of the Capellan Confederation

"I swear I will run my husband through should he ever dare to threaten your freedoms."

The last of the six major states of the Inner Sphere to coalesce, the Confederation was the result of political instability on the part of the Capellan Commonality, one of several smaller states occupying the densely colonised region between the expanding Free Worlds League and Federated Suns. The Hegemony’s constitution gave their neighbours a problematic degree of access to their elections, to the point that candidates were less known for their domestic positions than which foreign sovereignty backed them.

In 2365, Prime Minister Tucas of the Commonality was assassinated and the election of his successor deadlocked between three candidates before descending into a fiasco that paralyzed the Commonality for more than a year. President Reynard Davion of the Federated Suns announcement that he would be sending peacekeepers to occupy Capella was the final straw. A convention of all the states in the region gathered to seek a solution to their problems, among them Tucas’ son-in-law, Duke Franco Liao who represented independent worlds such as his own vest-pocket duchy who espoused a message of Pan-Capellan Unity.

After a dramatic promise from Franco’s wife that she would personally ensure their liberties would be protected, the Duke was granted emergency powers for 400 days by the governments of Tikonov, Sarna, Sian and St Ives. The outvoted Capellan Commonality representative was arrested after he declined an offered place as Franco’s deputy and House Liao’s ascendancy was complete. Less than a year later, Davion regiments entered the Capellan’s capital city only to be isolated by newly combined Confederation Navy and given the chance to surrender. Believing the Capellans would never bombard their own city cost Reynard Davion three crack regiments.

While House Liao’s position as Chancellor is not guaranteed, they have provided almost every Chancellor of the Confederation since Franco, as well as maintaining strong positions in the Prefectorate Council and House of Scions that make up the legislative body of the Confederation. Commanding the weakest military of the Inner Sphere, House Liao has produced several key figures in diplomacy. In 2412 Chancellor Aleisha Liao was able to persuade seven other major states to join her in formalising the Ares Conventions, a code of war that drastically reduced the civilian casualties and collateral damage of the pre-Star League conflicts. A century and a half later, Terrence Liao was among the first rulers to throw his support behind Ian Cameron’s Star League.

Four hundred years after Franco Liao was granted as many days to save the Confederation that salvation remains very much in doubt. The loss of many the liberties that his wife had promised to guard is not.

LXII Corps HQ, Kaiyuh
Crucis March, Federated Suns
12 July 2763

“It’s not a bad exercise,” McGuiness told her commander. “We’ve got observers in both operational HQs and down to their division and some brigade HQs, so there’s a lot of data for SLIC to look at when it comes to AFFS capabilities.”

Tatjana Baptiste nodded. The commander of the SLDF’s Fourth Army didn’t get excited about much – even things that McGuinness felt that she should. “Give me a thumbnail.”

Gesturing to the local strategic display – her operational area was one of the largest in the Federated Suns Army Group, stretching from the Taurian border almost as far as New Avalon – Roseleen McGuiness highlighted a border. “The scenario called for Field Marshal Waynewright in Chirikof to stage an invasion of the neighbouring Minette region – under Field Marshal MacDonald.”

“Forces?”

“MacDonald has – had – four March Militia formations, along with nine ‘Mech regiments, twenty armoured regiments and thirty-four infantry regiments from the Draconis March. That’s seriously pulled down their numbers on the Draconian border.”

“Four infantry divisions and support, more or less,” Baptiste said, converting the numbers into SLDF formation equivalents.

“Except think of it as made up of independent regiments, most of which haven’t worked together before.” The Corps Commander shrugged. “Organisation above the regimental level tends to be poor for the House militaries, honestly. “He spread two-thirds his force along the border, then held the remaining third in reserve. On the other side, Waynewright had nine Capellan March ‘Mech regiments and twenty-seven tank regiments, along with thirty-one infantry regiments that are split evenly between those from the Crucis March and Capellan March. Add that to three March Militia combat teams. Unlike MacDonald, he took the time to form them into some degree of organisation – ten roughly division-sized outfits, three of them built around his militia.”

Baptiste closed her eyes a moment in thought. “You mentioned brigade headquarters.”

“It’s a little experimental on their part but they seem to have settled on two full regiments to a brigade, along with battalions to support them. It’s not really the equivalent of a SLDF brigade task force, but it’s manageable for their logistics.”

“The other weak spot.”

McGuinness nodded toothily. “And Waynewright made a pretty good job of manipulating it. He’s punched a focused advance as far as Baxley – halfway to MacDonald’s headquarters on Minette – with his main force and turned the three units built around Militia loose to harass the Minette region’s logistics. Something like a third of the jumpships available to MacDonald have been logged as destroyed, completely stranding two ‘Mech regiments near Maram and crippling the ability of the regiments in Broken Wheel to go to the support of Point Barrow where the main push is going.”

“That could be concerning. If the AFFS learn from that then we could be seeing a sharp rise in their effectiveness.”

“Talk about Inner Sphere problems,” McGuinness snorted. “At least while they’re rushing around the bandit problems in this sector have dropped off. No one knows where they might run into one of the regiments from the exercise, so most of the troublemakers have probably looked for safer areas to operate in.”

“Nothing lasts forever, General. How long do you see them as continuing?”

“Maybe two months. After that they’ll really have to push everything back to the borders. Anne Borden told me that trouble there is on the upswing. While the cat’s away…”

Baptiste grunted and looked at the display. “How do you rate them, effectiveness wise?”

“About seventy-five, maybe eighty-percent effectiveness against my line regiments,” her subordinate replied without hesitation. “For Waynewright’s troops, low end of that once you get past regimental-sized engagements. MacDonald’s force organisation is a joke – I could roll them up with the 225th and a couple of combat teams.”

She got a shake of the head for that but Baptiste dismissed the map and walked back to sit in the lounge area. “You wanted to discuss supplies.”

McGuiness joined her superior. “I won’t recount the issues, but we might have found a handle on that.”

She got an arched eyebrow.

“It seems John Davion is serious about patching up relations with General Kerensky. He’s authorised AFFS supply lines to ferry sealed dropships from the Hegemony – no questions asked, first priority even over his own unit’s non-essential supplies.”

“It’s still a security risk.”

The Major General sighed at the kneejerk reaction. “We can’t get those parts in the Suns, they’re proprietary, and so they have to come from the Hegemony. He’s even offered to let us put guards on the dropships. Can you see Liao offering that – hell, would any of the other Council Lords do it? You know how stretched our own jumpships are. This could let us bring our maintenance levels up to where they’ll need to be.”

Baptiste considered that. “I see the benefits. I’ll consider it, but you know how tight security has to be around our hardware.”

“Okay, I understand. But if they turn it down I do have another option.” McGuiness opened a folder. “We have fourteen heavy tank regiments in my operational area that use classified technology. If we redeployed them to LIV Corps’ area that would cut almost two hundred light years off the supply lines for them. In their place we could pull forward heavy tanks equipped with older Merkava and Alacorn models.”

“And where would you get parts for those? They may be older but they’re still Hegemony designs.”

“Johnston Industries have made an offer for a license to build replacement components – and even fresh chassis – on Kirklin,” McGuinness grinned toothily. “That’s in Third Army’s area, but again – it’s a lot closer and no one cares about secure parts for designs that haven’t been used since the Reunification War.”

The Army Commander’s eyes narrowed. “You want me to endorse the license request?”

“If you and General Stangher of the Third sign off on it, General Kerensky is almost certain to approve it.”

“It means giving the AFFS access to design data for heavy combat vehicles – they’re not exactly the First Lord’s favourites after the Border War.”

“Yeah, but you know John Davion wouldn’t have gone in if he’d been able to get the SLDF to do the investigation. He’s a straight-shooter, I think we can do business with him.”

Baptiste held her hand up. “That’s political. I’ll see what my staff think about this. But don’t try to move ahead with authorisation.”

“Who do you think I am?”

Her superior sighed. “That’s why I said it, Roseleen.”


The Forbidden City, Sian
Sian Commonality, Capellan Confederation
11 August 2763

There was a certain stiffness in the Chancellor’s posture today. Tai Yang Gwak had learned to recognise it as a sign that she was making a decision of whose merits she remained unconvinced.

“After careful consideration of recent activity by the Capellan Confederation Armed Force,” Barbara Liao announced carefully, “It has been decided that the needs of the state increase the demand upon our military leaders. To ensure that officers in command over the most critical battlefields may be focused upon these tasks, eight officers of the utmost character have volunteered to surrender their existing titles and regimental associations to better serve the Confederation.”

The six men and two women lined up before the throne bowed deeply and dropped to one knee, keeping their faces directed at the polished floor. They had been chosen for reliability, rather than ability although Tai Yang hoped he had managed to identify any truly incompetent candidates for this test. At least they all had useful faults that could be employed to bring them down if the need arose.

As they knelt, servants moved soundlessly down the line, stripping away the various insignia that marked the wearers by their ranks, regiments and positions in the nobility. Four of them originated from the noble Sheng dynasties that dominated the Capellan court, while the other three had possessed life titles among the Barduc warrior nobles. Only one had no title to relinquish. It had taken remarkably little prodding to persuade them to surrender those distinctions, perhaps a sign that the Chancellor’s unease was well founded.

“Today,” the Chancellor declared, “These seven officers are nothing except soldiers. All else has been sacrificed except service to the state.” She lifted her hand and a servant brought out a tray carrying sashes of crimson silk. “And for this service they are granted a new distinction among our soldiers.”

“Aral Ridzik. Step forwards.”

The man who rose stepped forwards was the very image of a professional soldier. Tall, broad-shouldered, a keen eye and crisp movements. Of all of them, Tai Yang felt Ridzik was the least dangerous – he lacked the intellect and connections to undermine the authority of the Chancellor. He could only be a problem if they lost control of his strings and let other people make him their puppet.

Barbara secured the sash across Ridzik’s chest. “As the new Strategic Military Director of the Capellan Confederation, I name you a Marshal of the Confederation.”

Applause greeted the announcement and Tai Yang backed discreetly away while the other officers were appointed as the Directors of Operations for each of the seven Commonalities, and given their own sashes. One of the few pleasant things about growing older – other than not dying – was that as long as you made some appearance at formal events, almost everyone accepted medical excuses for leaving early or arriving late.

Stepping through the entrance to one of the washrooms he opened a locked door that was marked as cleaning stores with a sweep of one ring on his hand against the lock. The interior did have cleaning supplies neatly shelved, but the wall at the end slid to one side with another tap of the ring and a spiral staircase that made his hips ache led down to the working levels of the palace.

The analysts he’d called for were waiting in one of the smaller conference rooms. “Gentlemen, ladies.” Tai Yang seated himself with a sigh. “Let us all take a moment to mourn Ewan Marik. Such a useless Captain-General was a gift.”

His juniors lowered their heads for a moment.

“No need to go overboard though. So, the son? What are his weak spots?”

“He’s driven – highly ambitious. If his father hadn’t died, there was a non-trivial chance he would have mobilised Parliament to remove him.”

Tai Yang nodded. “And now that he has his father’s place, what’s left for him? A young man, not even thirty yet.”

“The most likely outcome seems to be that he’ll find someone to focus his energy against,” a second analyst proposed. “While the backlash against his father leaves him in a generally solid position, the Regulans have yet to commit so they could be a centre for internal opposition.”

“Elsa Cameron-Jones. Cautious but similarly ambitious.” The Director considered. “Given that Duke Allison of Oriente is within the new Marik’s circle of supporters we must assume that the Confederation may be targeted. Rivalry between Oriente and Regulus should be encouraged. Who else?”

“Externally, Marik served with the SLDF until 2757 when he was cashiered by General Kerensky. That suggests he might seek to intrigue against the Commanding General, given the chance.” The woman who raised this lowered her head. “Whether or not it would be advantageous to the Confederation for him to pursue this vendetta is outside my expertise.”

“Highly advantageous,” Tai Yang informed her. “John Davion is aligned with Kerensky and conflict between Marik and Davion is a key priority. To facilitate this… hmm. Did not Davion propose that the SLDF take over additional military academies within the Member-States?”

“There were some suggestions that he was pursuing this prior to the First Lord’s majority.”

“Good. Kenyon Marik graduated from the Allison Mechwarrior Institute. We will arrange to leak Davion’s interest in this, adding that AMI was in consideration. This should reduce the possibility of collusion between our neighbours against us. Remember, the Confederation may be able to withstand a conflict against the Federated Suns or the Free Worlds League, since each has a hostile neighbour we may ally with on their other flanks. We cannot afford to fight both at once.”


Nadir Jump Point, Tortuga Prime
Tortuga Dominions, Periphery
21 September 2763

The jump point was defended by a pair of pirate warships.

Well, warships was perhaps too strong a word. They were about the size of 24th century corvettes – significantly smaller than FSS Markesan – but they had in-system drives and what looked like weapon batteries.

They were definitely pirates though and in firing range of the jump-point as the Markesan jumped in.

“Launch fighters.” Light Commodore Kenneth Jones gripped the shock frame of his seat. “Get those dropships loose and get us under power.”

The bridge was close enough to the fighter catapults that the thump-thump-thump-thump-thump of the first five aerospace fighters almost drowned out the distant rumble of the three mighty fusion thrusters half a kilometre behind him igniting.

“Tactical, are they firing?”

“Negative sir.” The leftenant paused and then amended. “No weapons, sir, but fighters are being launched and their drives are lit.”

One good thing, Jones thought and then a groan went through the hull. “What was…?” He caught sight of the ship status monitor and swallowed a curse. “I said cut those dropships loose.”

The dropship collars were technically rated to support the mass of small dropships while under thrust, but it wasn’t recommended – if only because without very careful docking the parent vessel’s angle of thrust wouldn’t align with the bracing of the attached dropship, not to mention what it did to the weight distribution of the combined vessels. And the Overlord-class ‘Mech transport Chieftain currently docked to the Markesan’s D-collar wasn’t a small dropship.

“Colonel Perez has ordered the dropships to remain attached, sir. He’s… he’s preparing to put his ‘Mechs on our hull to support our guns.”

Jones’ lips went pale at the corners. “Trigger the emergency ejection of all dropships,” he ordered flatly. “Helm, give me twelve degrees roll to port and forty percent power on the main drives.”

The Markesan surged forwards and the groaning of the hull was cut off as the first of four detonations cracked the drop-collars. It would take weeks of work to repair them without access to a shipyard, but the Overlord and three Union dropships were unceremoniously detached from Jones’ ship by shaped charges, the roll scattering them like drops of blood from a piercing wound.

“You’re clear to engage,” he added for the tactical officer’s benefit.

The tactical holo-display lit up as the main computers finished rebooting from the jump and collating the sensor data. The two pirates had the Markesan flanked but one of them had been pointed the other way and it was having to flip end on end before they could match trajectory. The second had been on a more comparable vector and the two ships were roughly broadside on, converging.

“At least we must have caught somewhat off-guard,” mused Jones. “Otherwise they could be firing by now.”

“Colonel Perez is on channel two for you, sir.”

“He’ll have to wait.”

The tactical officer confirmed the targeting calculations and the port broadside’s particle beams and lasers fired. Vastly out scaled versions of the PPCs and lasers mounted on ‘Mechs two of the three heavy turrets smashed brutally into the hull of the pirate, only the mid-ships particle beams missing. A moment later and the aft turrets fired on the second vessel as it was still in mid-rotation.

The nearer ship finally returned fire, but it did so with a cloud of smaller munitions rather than with capital weapons of its own.

The small warheads sounded like firecrackers against the hull of the Markesan but sections of the hull flagged as amber, indicating armour had been partially compromised.

“No penetrations, sir, but we’re picking up incidental damage to sensors and to other external fittings.”

“Return fire with our own secondaries, tactical.” Jones checked the location of the four dropships and saw that they were doing the sensible thing and scattering. I told them they needed a cruiser for this, the Markesan’s a transport, she isn’t rigged for contesting a jump-point.

Unfortunately, the second corvette seemed to have given up on chasing after the Markesan and was instead turning towards the Overlord-class, Centurion fighters from the army squadrons sparring with the pirate aerospace craft of the same type.

His own fighters – aged Tomahawks from naval squadrons – were having more success – there were more of them and they were larger than Centurions, with heavier armament. Still, there was no time to waste on this ship if the ‘Mech transports were to be saved. “All hands brace for a 180 degree rotation. Helm, once we’re reoriented I want maximum military power.” Twenty five meters per second squared of acceleration should leave the first pirate overshooting them and with a bit of luck the damage they’d taken would deter them from trying to close again.

The guns fired again and Jones locked his chair into place. “Rotate!”

Navigational thrusters roared and for a nasty moment, gravity pressed everything aboard in the direction of the ends of the ship. The tactical display blinked out and then lit up again.

Then gravity was towards the deck again, weight pressing Jones down into his chair as he seemed to weigh more than twice as much as normal.

“Forward guns tracking,” snapped the tactical officer.

“Fire.”

The two heavy cannon in Markesan’s nose shook the bridge as they hurled explosive shells across the hundreds of kilometres between the warship and her target. There was a drawn out pause as the small icon representing the shells traced a line towards the pirate.

When they connected there were sighs from several officers.

“It may take more than that,” Jones reminded them. “Reload and hit them again.”

A second salvo rushed out this time only one shell connected, but it was apparently a sufficiently solid ship for the corvette’s electronic output cut sharply and the LIDAR ceased to display volleys of missiles flung at the dropships.

“Major heat flare,” the sensor chief reported. “Best estimation is that we hit their hydrogen tanks.”

Jones restrained a flinch. While properly stored hydrogen was safe enough, have it leaking into the halo of oxygen as air escaped from holes in a ship’s pressurized decks and the results could very damaging indeed. “Very good. Helm, bring us around to engage with broadside weapons. We only have a limited store of shells for the main guns.”

“Should we demand a surrender, sir?”

“No, Major,” he told his exec, listening in on the conversation from the Combat Information Centre. “Our orders are: ‘no quarter’.”

Turning his chair he looked at the communications officer. “Is Colonel Perez still hailing us?”

“Yes sir.”

Jones glanced at the tactical display. The second corvette was wallowing under fire and the first had apparently decided to make for Tortuga Prime rather than resume the engagement. The Markesan’s fighters had broken off to re-join their mothership… yes, everything was in hand. “I’ll speak to him then.”

The Mechwarrior’s face popped into view on the secondary screen in front of Jones’, pale with fear, anger or a mix – the naval officer was genuinely unsure. The command deck of the Chieftain was visible behind him. “Your murderous coward,” Perez spat. “You just killed half my men.”

If he wasn’t wearing a pressure suit, including helmet, Jones would have reached up and tugged on his moustache. “I’m reasonably sure none of our fire has struck you, Colonel. Perhaps you could expand on your meaning.”

“When you cut and ran, that ship came after us and its missiles breached the ‘Mech bays.” Perez’ lips curled in contempt. “Clever use of a decoy, but the Judge Advocate will have something to say about using a full battalion as one.”

“How extremely unfortunate.”

“Hand over command to your executive officer and restrict yourself to your cabin. I’ll have the embarked battalion secure you until can be brought before a general court martial.”

Jones raised an eyebrow and then opened a second channel. “Major Picard, I stand relieved of duty by the mission commander. You have the conn.”

“Understood sir. I have the conn.”

“Is there anything else, Colonel?”

Perez seemed on the brink of saying more but refrained, instead cutting the channel.

“Sir, how much trouble are you in?”

Jones shrugged. There was no point heading for his quarters until the Markesan stopped manoeuvring. “I’m on record as protesting the assignment of a transport to a jump point assault and as further objecting to bringing ground troops with us when I was overruled. And while Perez may be mission commander, he doesn’t have tactical authority in a space combat situation. Finally, while a general court martial would be open to public review and he might manage to convict me by media, this is a classified operation so it’ll be a summary court martial, records sealed for the next fifty years except for the verdict. I’d say, given the usual predominance of army officers in the Judge Advocate’s office, I’ve a forty percent chance of acquittal.”

He smiled tightly. “Anyway, you’re in command of a warship in action, Major. That’ll look good on your record when it’s time for promotions.”

Brookes stared at the screen and then saluted before cutting it off.

Sitting back, Kenneth Jones watched his ship finish of the pirate, the crew working together like a well-tuned musical instrument. Somewhere in the back of his mind he started mentally composing a letter to his wife to inform her of what he could without breaking censorship regulations.


Imperial City, Luthien
Pesht District, Draconis Combine
8 October 2763

“The Federated Suns military exercises have concluded with a victory for the aggressor.”

Minoru’s father gave no immediate reaction to the report. Seated on teak stool carved with dragons, he was watching the first snow settle upon the gardens of his favourite palace.

He lacks none of his insight, the Heir-Designate thought sadly, but it takes him longer now to reach decisions. These last few years… my children still safe from the demands of adulthood, my hands and voice acting as his will in the affairs of state, guided by his wisdom. Was their beauty the reason they must be so brief.

“Lord Davion is our most advantageous ally,” the Coordinator said at last. “He will be your most dangerous foe.”

So. “His armies remain weak and unfocused.” Minoru allowed a sliver of amusement to enter his tone. “His vaunted First Avalon Hussars were lost on the far reaches of the Suns for almost a month, nearly a full battalion slain by chance. Even then, the naval officer responsible was judged blameless. The prince himself is a threat, but without discipline…”

“A sword will cut clay, yet shape the clay around crude iron, place it in the fire… and it will yield the finest steel.”

“Or without steel, a pot. Or a plate.”

Takiro Kurita smiled slightly. “A samurai can use both of these things. Swords defend civilisation but they do not define it.”

“Of course, father.” Setting aside the report, he moved to the next. “Also within the Suns, the Boeing Interstellar Orbital Megaplex has accelerated its pace of construction despite the First Lord’s decision not to subsidize operations. We believe SLDF discretionary funds have been allocated for this.”

“Mmm. Davion’s openness is a weakness but by sitting athwart the best routes between Terra and the battlefields of the Periphery, he has made a weapon of it.” The old man sighed. “There is something you have not mentioned yet of this matter.”

Minoru bowed his head. “As always, you read me like an open book. One of the orbital docks that was to be used in construction has been diverted away from Galax and the ISF has yet to determine the destination.”

“Unusual. This speaks of especial precautions by the Suns.” Takiro folded his hands together. “Call my grandson to me, Minoru.”

With a bow, Minoru backed out of proximity and retrieved a small radio from his sleeve. With Jinjiro now enrolled in Sun Zhang Academy on New Samarkand, this could only mean his younger son, Zabu.

Summoned from his studies, the child nonetheless arrived with decorum. Bowing first to the Coordinator and then to his father, he knelt politely before them and let silence fall. Minoru studied him and thought again what might come had he not legitimised Jinjiro. Zabu, after all, was the son of his wife and the older boy only of a concubine. And yet… there was an edge to his first born. Zabu would be a fine lord, wise in the mould of his grandfather – but Jinjiro had the seeds of greatness. To stamp the Dragon across the stars as their ancestor Shiro had, or to purge it of weakness like Martin McAllister.

Truly it is a blessing that they are devoted to each other. Is there nothing that my sons could do together?

“Zabu, do you tend your lessons well?”

“Hai, grandfather.”

“Good.” Takiro raised his hand and beckoned for the boy to come closer. “Now I have another lesson for you.”

Seated at the old man’s feet, Zabu nodded and looked up with bright eyes. “I am ready, grandfather.”

“The Davion lord is of value to us now, but one day our swords will clash against his. This you have been taught. But now I would have you unravel one of his plots, as you will one day need to without us to guide you. Do you understand?”

Even at a mere six years old, the child took the meaning of the words. He prostrated himself. “I thank you for this lesson.”

Takiro’s lips parted in a smile. “Up, up. Your father will provide you the first thread of information.”

Dropping to his knees next to the Coordinator, Minoru nodded to his son. “The Davion have inveigled with the Star League to build a vast new shipyard near the centre of his realm. It is a matter of great prestige for him, as well as a tool that will profit him greatly.  The First Lord is wary, as well he should be but Davion has gone to great lengths, perhaps even great risk, to have the yards built sooner – years sooner – than was originally planned for.”

“And yet, despite the high priority that has been placed upon this, one of the orbital docks that was to be used in the construction has been hidden from sight. Sent, we do not yet know where, nor for what purpose. These questions we must seek answers for, yet where should we have our servants begin their search?”

Zabu screwed his eyes closed intent on thought. It was a familiar expression and the two older men exchanged fond looks as the boy turned the question over in his mind. “Father, may I call upon your greater knowledge?”

“You may,” Takiro allowed.

“May these docks serve other purposes besides the construction of shipyards?”

“They may build all manner of facilities in space. Some may even build ships, though this one does not seem to be suited to the purpose.”

The boy nodded confidently. “You have described Lord Davion as valuable so I believe he is not foolish. He would have chosen a dock for the purpose. Clearly he must intend that something be built in space, which is vast. Do we often lose track of his shipments?”

Minoru gave him a proud look. “We do not. These matters are typically transparent to our eyes and ears.”

“Then what means has he used to cloud his tracks, father?”

“Much of Davion’s shipping was engaged in transporting elements of his armies to stage a great campaign for the purpose of training his armies. These same vessels now ferry the regiments back to his borders and there is great disorder within the freight lanes of the Suns.”

Zabu bowed his head again. “Grandfather, I believe that just as Lord Davion used the transport of his regiments to hide the movement of this orbital dock, he has used the creation of the new shipyard to mask the creation of a second, hidden yard. It will likely be found among the worlds where this training campaign took place for this is where the movement of ships outside of normal schedules would arouse little suspicion.”

“Perhaps so, but why would the Davion desire to hide a shipyard so deep within his realm, hundreds of light years away from ourselves or from House Liao of Capella?”

The boy hesitated. “I regret I know too little of such subjects,” he confessed, shamefacedly.

“Hmm. Well, you are very young.” Takiro waved his hands. “Still, you have deduced well. Go to the kitchens and tell the cooks that I have directed you should receive a treat.”

“Layers within layers,” Minoru murmured. “The location is far from us and from Liao, but it is closer to the Taurians.”

“Davion does not send his forces against the periphery, but Kerensky does. Perhaps we are dealing with his stratagem here,” Takiro mused. “If Davion is but the glove he wears for this then they have become closer than we suspected.”

“Marik, Steiner and Cameron are all suspicions of Kerensky – what did the young Marik call him? A jumped up Russian peasant.” Minoru shook his head. “He is a warrior – one of the Star League’s gunslingers who are trained to duel against our own samurai. And he was regent for Cameron. If, faced by the suspicion of the lords and supported by the adoration of his soldiers he sought to take a throne for himself…”

Takiro closed his eyes. “Cameron has flatterers on his side, and little more. Many of the people of the other states would urge their leaders to support Kerensky. Davion would likely do so. Liao… perhaps. The periphery are like whipped dogs, he could offer them tokens and they would fall over themselves to worship him… And yet I do not think he is driven to that form of power. No, Kerensky is that rarest of men – he lacks all ambition for further advancement.”

“So he is no threat.”

“Oh, my son, such men are the most perilous of all.”



Sidebar: History of the Draconis Combine

"House Kurita’s leaders are of two breeds: wise old snakes who live long, poisonous lives and those whose overweening pride makes them the prey of the first breed."

Founded through a mix of diplomacy, military force and reckless duplicity by two brothers, Shiro and Urizen Kurita, the Draconis Combine superseded the slightly earlier Alliance of Galedon, which had been their tool to break the power of the Ozawa Mercantile Association. In 2311 Shiro called a council of his so-called allies, many of them outraged by his scheming. When a vote was called upon his leadership, the majority of the leaders of worlds in the spinward-coreward regions rejected Shiro Kurita. Those wiser were spared when Urizen’s soldiers executed the dissenting majority, setting the tone for House Kurita’s totalitarian rule.

More than a century later, House Kurita’s fortunes seemed to have fallen irreversibly, for both Shiro’s successors on New Samarkand and his brother’s heirs in the long attempts to subdue the neighbouring Principality of Rasalhague had been overthrown by bastard kinsmen. Nihongi von Rohrs, born to a Kurita princess by way of a stablehand, slaughtered his cousins and established a paranoid new dynasty that rarely left their guarded palace, even as they schemed eternally against each other. Meanwhile Urizen’s grand-daughter, having fallen into the hands of the Rasalhague resistance, bore Daniel Sorenson. Growing up in his uncle’s court on occupied Rasalhague, the young Daniel repaid every slight inflicted on him when he seized power during the uneasy months after Nihongi’s coup and re-established an independent Rasalhague.

As the twenty-sixth century dawned, a third branch of the apparently ousted Kurita Clan rose to power. Descended from Shiro’s second son, Martin McAllister served as one of the Von Rohr’s diplomats to their rivals on Rasalhague. Falling madly in love with Prince Sorenson’s daughter, the two united the two lineages of House Kurita in their daughter Siriwan. Their efforts to conceal this succeeded and, due to his carefully plotted successes ‘against’ Rasalhague, McAllister rose in his overlords’ regard and trust, receiving command of their Household Guards. In 2510, McAllister took the obvious next step and eliminated the Von Rohrs, finally uniting Rasalhague with the Draconis Combine through his daughter’s inheritance.

Siriwan McAllister-Kurita laid the foundations for the modern Combine, wedding an undistinguished descendant of the last Kurita Coordinator in order to reclaim the symbolic family name. Siriwan, her son Hehiro, great-grandson Urizen and great-great-grandson Takiro for two hundred and eleven years out of the next two hundred and fifty-two, long-stable reigns that allowed them to mould the Draconis Combine into a strong but isolationist realm even after joining the Star League.

Avalon City, New Avalon
Crucis March, Federated Suns
19 December 2763

“I don’t fault you for the decision, sire.” Thomas Green-Davion shook his head as he and John watched the sun setting over the mountains from one of the castle balconies. “Colonel Perez was clearly in the wrong, but the Avalon Hussars are rallying around him and they’re the backbone of our Battlemech corps.”

“I agree. Moving Jones to a staff position should hopefully keep him out of line of sight until tempers cool.” John sighed. “Losing a battalion of the First was a blow, I admit. And the damned thing is, other than pissing off the Navy, Perez did a good job on Tortuga. He’s an excellent ground commander and I could use him in a brigade slot, but right now he’s unpromotable.”

“I take it we couldn’t put him in a diplomatic post, let him pick up some polish?”

“He didn’t exactly show a sign of being diplomatic to begin with.” John picked an apple out of the dish between them and took a bite. “Besides, he knows more about Tortuga than I like – I’d rather he wasn’t outside the Suns.”

“Good point.” Green-Davion tapped his fingers on the side of his chair. “With Heather taking over MacDonald’s op-area, perhaps he could be shuffled into her staff. It’d keep him out of view for a little while and I could ask her to take him in hand.”

The prince nodded in approval. “Thank you, Thomas. That’s one problem out of the way. And speaking of Green-Davions taking people in hand…”

The older man gave him a quizzical look. “Who do you want me to keep an eye on?”

“As you said earlier, the Avalon Hussars are the backbone of our Mechwarriors. We need to get them on-board with the new combined arms tactics if they’re to get widespread acceptance, not to mention cooling off this budding feud with the navy.”

“I don’t disagree but they’re scattered across the Suns and under the command of every Combat Region Marshal we have. Reaching them all at once with anything but official memorandums isn’t all that straightforward.”

“I’m thinking a two-pronged approach. Firstly, I’m going to blanket attach a battalion of artillery to each regiment of the Hussars. The added firepower should be popular and it moves them half-way towards the new demi-brigade model the Crucis Dragoons and Ceti Hussars have developed. Johnston Industries are confident they can adapt their gun carrier chassis into a self-propelled gun for the artillery, so breaking loose light artillery battalions for that shouldn’t affect our general deployments too much.”

“Ah, the Carronade proposal. I heard about it from the Count. I understood he was looking at the SLDF as a market though?”

“They’re being very non-committal and Elias knows a confirmed contract from us is better for him than a maybe from Kerensky’s staff.”

“Hmm. Having first call on artillery should appeal to the Hussars, I agree. But where do I come into this?”

“That’s the other thing. It’s been largely honorific, but there’s the tradition of having Colonels-in-Chief for the major troop formations. Alexander Davion stripped away most of the practical power from the position when he reunited the Principalities, but he didn’t abolish them outright.”

Green-Davion nodded. “I recall Rita Hasek carrying out some visits to the Fusiliers as their Colonel-in-Chief while I was her regent on New Syrtis. I’m not sure if Vasily does the same for the Chevaliers.”

John chuckled. “He’s actually Colonel-in-Chief for the Tancredi Loyalists, not the Robinson Chevaliers. Not quite so demanding a position given there are only four regiments.”

“I take it you want to appoint me as the Colonel-in-Chief for the Avalon Hussars then?”

“Yes, it’s been in abeyance since my cousin Joseph died – Uncle Richard never appointed a replacement.”

“That should say everything about how influential it is.”

“It’s one of those things that’s what you make of it. It gives you unquestioned access to all their social events, for example, so whenever you’re on world with one of their regiments you can touch base with them and see how the mood is without it ruffling any feathers.”

“And how often is that going to happen?” Thomas gave him a sceptical look. “I had the impression I’d be spending more time on New Avalon now that the Galahad exercises were over.”

“Think of a working vacation, Baron Green-Davion.” John took one last bite of the apple and dropped the core in a waste bin. “The High Council approved of it and you have a nice little estate on Damerang, conveniently garrisoned by a regiment of the Hussars within three others within a one jump radius. It would be terribly insensitive of you not to visit them, since you’re their new Colonel-in-Chief.”

He received a suspicious look. “How many excuses do you have to send me running around the Federated Suns?”

“I’ve got two more lined up to send you to the Capellan March next year,” John told him. “Starting with an inspection of the Demeter salient now they’ve had a time to settle down from the fighting and then Rita has some sort of honour she wants to hang on you, which means visiting New Syrtis.”

“It had better be a very nice estate,” Thomas told him. “Alright, you’ve a willing horse, sire. What’s one more mile?”

.o0O0o.

Avalon City, New Avalon
Crucis March, Federated Suns
22 December 2763

“I’ve found a place for Commodore Jones,” John told Hanse as he watched another Italian opera. Talking to his descendant was cutting into his personal time more than he liked but there wasn’t much alternative if he didn’t want some suspicions raised about his sanity.

Edwina wasn’t at all fond of the operas, which was a mark of her good taste in John’s view. It meant she left him to watch them alone, more or less once a week. He’d rather have spent the time with her, but at least she didn’t think he was sneaking off to see another woman, which some of the other cover ideas would have allowed for.

“Good, you want the man safe. He turns into our best admiral twenty years from now,” Hanse replied absently as he watched the screen.

“Well he won’t come to harm on the Navy’s procurement board. In a year or so I should be able to bump him up to Commodore and give him one of the heavier ships. From the way he handled the fighting over Tortuga, he’s more than ready for the responsibility.”

“What’s he going to be handling? The new transport dropships or the capital ship board?”

“The latter. I’m not an idiot, Hanse. We don’t have many warship commanders who’ve engaged hostile warships – for a given value of warships, at least. Besides, if he was looking at the new battalion-transports then he’d have to work with the Army on the design requirements – too much chance he’d run into someone who bought into Perez’ version of events.”

“At least you’re not starting with almost two hundred years of not even having warships. The RX-78 was enough headaches.”

John nodded and flipped through the documents he’d brought with him. “Even if we wind up pushing a new arms limit through the Council, taking the chance to replace and refit some of our older hulls should be worth it. The ex-Hegemony ships are taking up more of the maintenance budget than I’d realised. Mothballing them would save us millions.”

“The time may come when you need expendable ships,” Hanse warned. “And you’d be surprised what can be put back into service. The Lyrans considered their last Tharkad as a wreck too broken to be worth fixing by 2821, but they managed to drag it back into action for the fighting around Hesperus thirty years later.”

“Yes, you’ve made a point of how much hardware survived the centuries with only patchwork repairs. With how durable ‘Mechs and ships are, I’m surprised things fell apart as far as you described.”

“The factories weren’t as durable,” Hanse told him. “And someone kept assassinating the people with the skills to repair them.”

“Now, you see, this is why I don’t want to start assassinating people. You never know where when we might need them – you said yourself that this Blake character was vital in rebuilding the HPG networks after the coup. If we can’t manage to avoid that then he’s going to be needed. Killing him would be disruptive.”

“And I yield the point, but his successor didn’t do anything like that.”

“I’m not having someone arrange a traffic accident for a ten year old, Hanse.”

“He’d be eleven now. Alright, not the point, I know. But ComStar’s scheming killed tens of thousands directly and probably millions indirectly. I spent years rooting their spies out. Trust me, you don’t want to get them entrenched again.”

“It won’t be a factor unless the League fails,” John said heavily. “If it comes to that, I promise I’ll take steps to make sure they can’t do what you describe.”

“I’ll hold you to that.”

John relaxed. There were some points that he wished Hanse would stop pressing him on, but just as the other man couldn’t make him do anything, there was nothing John could do to shut him up. “There’s been at least a little progress – Richard hasn’t stopped the Star League Council from meeting the way you described, and Francesca tells me we’re compiling a good case to show that the Periphery are receiving shipments of military hardware from sources deep inside the Hegemony. Nothing’s pointing at Amaris yet but at least we can show that as many are going to the Rim Worlds Republic as they are to the other territorial states.”

“That could useful,” the redhead agreed. “It might be enough to persuade Richard that the SLDF should send troops back to the Republic. Even if Amaris claims to be a loyal, the Reunification War is evidence that the Rim can be a nest of anti-League sentiment whatever House Amaris has to say.”

“I’m not sure the Commanding General would thank us for adding another battle-front to his operations, but better to be aware of the threat. If MIIO can add it all together than I’ll see if I can make the case then.”

Hanse rubbed his hands across his face. “You’re right that things are changing. Barbara Liao never appointed Marshals in my history, so maybe things might not go the way they did in my history. I’m not confident that we can avert the fall of the Star League, but at least there might be a chance.”


Avalon City, New Avalon
Crucis March, Federated Suns
5 January 2764

“Where did this information come from?” Green-Davion asked, looking at the data on the command centre’s main display. It was the last meeting before the Chief of Operations departed for the extended vacation on his new estate in the Draconis March and while this wasn’t exactly a crisis, it was probably another headache he didn’t need.

“The Ministry of Intelligence put it together based on information from several sources,” Pond explained. “Without going into detail about where some of our people have managed to penetrate DCMS security I can’t say more, but I’m confident that the data is genuine.”

“It’s good to know that we’re not the only ones finding it hard to fill officer command slots,” said Eis Moscoe. “This seems a little radical though.”

John snuck a look at Hanse who shook his head. “They didn’t do this in my history.”

“It could also be a response to our decision to improve the coordination of our forces above the regimental level,” he pointed out.

“Or just taking their obsession with the number five to new heights.” Moscoe rubbed his chin. “This will play hell with their transport arrangements.”

Whatever the reason behind it, the DCMS had decided to reorganise their forces across the board. Where they’d previously operated more or less along the same general pattern as the SLDF, with lances, companies and battalions the ‘new model’ that Minoru Kurita had apparently approved on behalf of his father cut the number of command slots, and thus the number of officers needed for a regiment.

Previously a regiment would require three battalion commanders, nine company commanders and eighteen additional lance commanders. In the future, the regiments would be divided into five companies of twenty-five ‘Mechs, vehicles or infantry platoons. That cut the demand for officers by sixteen percent, particularly in the field-grade ranks. Academies could increase the number of lance commanders comparatively rapidly, even if AFFS policy was to give graduates at least a few months experience in the field before actually promoting them to officers. Company and battalion commanders were harder to come by though.

“It’s going to cut into the rate of advancement for their junior officers though,” observed Manabe. “In the long run that could cause some dissatisfaction.”

“House Kurita have never been afraid to pit their officers against each other.” Pond folded his arms. “Rather than blaming their leaders for removing the middling command slots, the junior officers will turn on each other to compete for promotion. And they’ll be highly motivated to make names for themselves in order to receive promotions.”

Green-Davion swiped through the data. “I’m more concerned about the fact they’re forming permanent Divisions. The changes we’ve been making to improve our coordination was to prepare us to face conflicts with the other house armies. Particularly the DCMS. We have to face the facts that they’re working to retain the edge they had over us thirty years ago.”

“It’ll still be a lot smaller than an SLDF division or our equivalents. Really it’s more of a reinforced brigade.”

John leant on the desk table. “It’ll depend to some extent on how the commanders handle them. If they’re planning to make heavier use of their infantry, with three of the five regiments in a division as foot soldiers that won’t necessarily make a huge difference if they’re focusing on manoeuvre warfare the way most conflicts were handled after the Ares Conventions were imposed. But if they’re instead looking at controlling territory, the way the SLDF has to operate in the Periphery then a heavy infantry presence could be very useful for them.”

The high command exchanged looked at each other.

“You think they could be gearing up for a long term offensive?” enquired Green-Davion.

The prince tilted his hand back and forth. “It’s one possibility. We’ll have to see how they develop the units in practise. They might simply feel that it takes a brigade of infantry to equal the effectiveness of the ‘Mech regiment and the tank regiment.”

“Another factor is that the Combine hasn’t previously brought their armoured units together operationally. It’s more common for them to use tanks as battalions rather than complete regiments. The new organisation won’t really allow for that, so the DCMS armoured forces will have to develop new approaches.” Eis ran his fingers back though his hair. “It’s a very large step for them to take and it’s going to draw a lot of attention.”

“It’s certainly going to be interesting to see if this means that the Lyrans and Free World will also be looking at reviewing their own command arrangements above regimental level,” Pond agreed. “We haven’t see that so far and the Capellans are being very cautious about exploring the idea but this raises the game considerably.”

“Should we move faster with integrating our forces into divisions?” asked John. “Opinions?”

There was an uneasy silence. “As much as I think it’s the right direction, we’re doing well already by building up from the bottom,” Green-Davion said at last. “Bringing troops together is only the first step and we need to train up the commanders and staffs to handle brigades and divisions. By the time the Combine has worked out the basic issues for this reorganisation – a year or two from now – we’ll have a solid core of combined arms brigades and demi-brigades that we can begin forming divisions from with much less friction.”

John nodded. “Does anyone disagree?”

“With all respect, sire, the Field Marshal is right that we’re already moving ahead fairly fast. Slow and steady wins the race.”

“I’m not going to bite your head off, Eis. Actually, I agree. As important as our reforms are, having the DCMS push the pace would be a mistake. Pass on a request to the Ministry of Intelligence to watch for any further information on this and any similar actions by other member-states, so we can learn from any problems that they encounter. But there’s no need to change our plans at this time.”


Avalon City, New Avalon
Crucis March, Federated Suns
25 April 2764

Holographic warships hung in the air in front of John’s desk. “This looks like something of a budget challenge,” he said thoughtfully. “You’ve got a very well developed plan for the cruisers, scaling up from the Congress-class frigates, but these Protector-class battleships would be larger than anything our yards have built before.”

“We probably would need to rely on the new yard at Galax for this, given their experience building larger ships for the SLDF.” Admiral Richardson looked apologetic. “Smaller hulls were considered, but given the Soyal and Du Shi Wang classes in service in the CCN, we simply couldn’t meet the goals for a battleship that can contend within the battlecruiser weight ranges.”

“I take it the drafts for battlecruisers are in the alternative proposals?”

Rike Moore, the Rear Admiral from the Navy’s Design Bureau nodded. “The preliminary studies are in the appendices, sire, however…”

“However?

“However,” Richardson picked up with barely a pause, “The plan we’ve presented is the consensus of the full board. Eight new cruisers and four battleships are what we need to keep the Navy competitive through until the end of the century.”

“I see.” The prince rested his fingers on the very edge of his desk. After a brief moment of thought, he shook his head. “I realise that I don’t have first-hand naval experience, but I asked the board to outline options for moving forwards. If this proposal – as detailed as it may be, as solidly as you all seem to favour it – is the only one presented then the board hasn’t completed the work asked of it.”

He closed down the display. “What other plans were rejected in favour of this one?”

Vice Admiral Yusuke Goto stepped forwards. “If I may?” Although he’d not served aboard a ship in years, the grey-haired officer’s last command had been a dropship on the frontlines of the War of Davion Succession. Thirty-one years at naval headquarters had honed his skill in the tactics and strategy of the halls of power rather than the blackness of space, but at least he’d seen action – something that many of his compatriots had not.

“Go ahead.”

“Besides the proposal we have here, there was a consideration of upgrading the Congress-class ships and expanding them to provide a backbone of frigates to support our Robinson-class transports. However, we don’t have the number of slips available to build them in the numbers to deal with heavy Capellan ships or to match the existing numbers of destroyers and light carriers fielded by the Combine. Once we began looking at improving the Congress-class, scaling it up to a cruiser was initially explored as the single design – for the same costs as the current proposal we calculate that fifteen cruisers could be built. However, this still wouldn’t be enough for the Capellans. Finally we reviewed building a large number of corvettes on the hull of the Robinson, using civilian yards for the basic hulls so that military yards could save time only installing the armour and weapons. Commodore Jones made the excellent point that his ship took serious damage against converted merchantmen in recent operations, though, which suggests such a force would be of questionable value.”

“There was…” Moore hesitated. “I don’t wish to expose the Commodore to criticism.”

“Well now that you’ve started, Admiral?”

Richardson cleared his throat. “I believe that Rike is hesitant in light of the army’s suggestions that Commodore Jones is lacking in moral fibre. His recommendation was that we focus on delivering dropships and aerospace fighters to the battlespace. His view as that we should build destroyers for those warship clashes that can’t be avoided and otherwise use carriers to avoid direct action.”

“That… could work.” Hanse moved up and perched on the desk, arms folded and eyes narrowed in thought. “Given the use of nuclear warheads for fighters… how many fighters could be carried aboard a warship?”

“Interesting.” John rose. “I will defer judgement until the high command can review your position, Admirals. You’ve two weeks to put together presentations for all of those options, including Commodore Jones’. Since the options will be issued under the names of the entire board there’s no need to worry about any blame falling upon him specifically.”

“Two weeks isn’t a great deal of time.”

“Admiral this has been under discussion for three months. I appreciate your preference in this matter and the prospect of being able to match the Capellan battleships is very appealing but this is my decision, not yours. Since I have to justify it to the High Council, I want to be able to show them alternatives and why they’ve been rejected.”

Goto saluted. “I understand, sire. We’ll have the information for you.” The old veteran knew when it was best to retreat and regroup.

“What’s the bet that they canvas the High Council for support before the next meeting?” Hanse chuckled, “Appealing to their patronage and ‘we have insufficient manhood’ without big ships as substitutes for shiny sports cars.”

John didn’t think that that even deserved a response. Whatever he chose, he’d need to make sure his allies within the Council were primed. The decision made was going to cost billions of dollars either way, which made the attempt to railroad him all the more irritating.

Moore and Richardson followed Goto’s example. As they left, Moore paused. “I’m sorry we misunderstood your instructions, sire. I just wanted to say… I appreciate what you’re doing, fighting to get us the budget to turn the navy into a real fighting force and standing up for Jones against Perez.”

“I’m glad to hear that, Rike. But give some thought to why I’m doing that. It’s not for the navy, it’s for what the Navy can do for the Federated Suns.”

The admiral paused and then nodded. “I’ll do that.”

John stretched as the door closed. “What happened at Tortuga showed we need to do some things differently. We didn’t expect to be facing warships, but even converted merchantmen armed with conventional weapons hurt the Markesan badly.”

“It’s not an area I can give a lot of advice on, other than historical records and naval history wasn’t a huge priority when I was in the academy. The Clans used their warships mostly as mobile supply bases and command centres, but they didn’t have any real opposition. The closest we came was one suicidal ramming by a fighter – which didn’t even mission-kill the ship.”

Hanse jumped off the desk. “The SLDF does about the same, right now, but they’re not fighting a comparable fleet. No one’s attempted unrestricted fleet actions since before the Ares Conventions were drafted early in the Age of War and the technology back then simply wasn’t comparable.”

“So we’re going to have to write our own book,” John decided. “At least we have some idea that we could have to fight, that’s more than the other fleets do.”

“Which way are you leaning?”

“The first plan is the best prepared,” the prince told him. “And since the navy likes it, I could take advantage of their appealing to the High Council and get it approved more easily than the alternatives.” He hesitated and then added: “But from what you said about the attrition warships suffered in the Succession Wars, something that relies more on fighter wings for damage might survive longer if it comes to war.”


Avalon City, New Avalon
Crucis March, Federated Suns
11 May 2764

“I appreciate your position, Admiral Richardson, but while the majority of the naval board may favour building battleships, you’re the only member of the High Command who feels that way.”

“Respectfully, sire, I’m also the only naval officer on the High Command.”

“That’s true, but you’ve also failed to persuade the finance committee. You provided a very detailed proposal for paying for the twelve warships in your plan, but Commodore Jones managed to compete with a proposal to not only build six fleet carriers and six new destroyers in the next ten years, but also to refit twenty-six of our existing warships to the same standard… and still came in at only ninety percent of the cost.”

“Your highness, do I have permission to speak freely.”

John looked at him and then nodded. “I don’t record private meetings, Admiral. Whatever you say is off the record and between the two of us.”

“Sir, the Jones plan will leave the navy with a capital force whose only solution to a battle will be to run away and hope that their aerospace wings can save the day. The Soyal-class can smash a New Syrtis-class carrier with two square hits of its spinal gun. Maybe three, allowing for the improved protection Jones has called for.”

“And how many shots could your battleship have taken? Five, six?” John leant back in his chair. “What decided me, Admiral – and the argument that I’ll take to the High Council – is that while we’d need to replace a defeated ship in either case, a victorious battleship would need dockyard work because it would still have taken damage. A carrier that’s avoided taking direct fire would simply need a replacement aerospace wing and it could be back in action without time for repairs, or even to return to a shipyard.”

“If it wins, sire. If it wins.” Richardson gathered himself. “I recommend against this in the strongest possible terms. If you go with Jones’ plan… I don’t feel I can be responsible for naval operations in that case.”

“That’s a very strong statement to make, Admiral. You would be difficult to replace.”

“I know sir, but if we’re to be a fighting navy then I firmly believe this isn’t the path we should be taking.”

“I see.” The prince rose and walked to the window. “I appreciate your forthrightness. I’m not a naval officer myself but I have looked at the history of our service. You’ll recall that of the two classes of capital ship the FSN has fielded in the past, the Defender-class of battlecruiser wasn’t particularly successful while the New Syrtis-class have performed superbly.”

Richardson set his jaw. “The New Syrtis fills its role, sir. As an escort for transports. I thought you wanted a fighting navy.”

“Alright. If that’s your final word, Admiral then I’ve no choice to accept it.”

The admiral paused. “Sire?”

“I’ll advise Field Marshal Green-Davion to expect your resignation when he returns from New Syrtis. I hope you’ll remain until then so we can find a replacement.”

In the window’s reflection, John could see Richardson’s face pale.

“You’ve given many years of service, Admiral. If, as you say, you don’t feel that you can continue to operate in naval operations while we follow this course of action, then all I can do is to offer my sincere thanks for everything you’ve done to bring us this far.”

“I…”

“I don’t think there’s anything more to say.” Not to say, at least but John let his face show for a moment his anger at the Admiral’s attempt to bully him into changing his decision. “Goodbye, Admiral Richardson.”

He walked the man to the door and closed it firmly behind his guest. “Dammit, Hanse. Did you ever have to deal with someone trying that sort of trick on you?”

“Once or twice when I was younger. You did a pretty good job of shutting him down. Once word gets around, they’ll be more cautious.”

“It’s a new experience for me. The closest was Eric Bond, when I set up the Ministry of Intelligence, but he genuinely thought he was in the wrong and being punished.”

“There’s always pushback when major changes are being made.” Hanse reached into the fruit bowl and scowled as he failed to pick one up.

“Do you even get hungry?”

“That’s not the point. He might not have been so reckless if he knew that the delegates from Delavan and Layover had agreed to support the Jones plan rather than voting for the battleships, but it’s better to move him out now and set an example.”

“Well that was simple logic. Building warships is a great profit per unit, but aerospace fighters are a more sustainable source of income. It’s fortunate that we optioned licenses from Wangker Aerospsace back during the Reunification War even if we never utilised them at the time. I doubt Barbara Liao would have agreed to them now.”

“She’ll likely challenge the arrangement now,” warned Hanse. “If she takes it to the courts, Richard Cameron could take her side.”

“You’re the one who said we needed those fighter designs. With Dynamico, Sacrado and Salvatore all adding aerospace manufacture to their dropship lines we’ll be in a much stronger position.”

The redheaded man looked at John and then smiled. “You have something in mind, don’t you?”

“We might not be able to pin the arms purchases to Amaris but Reznick has been able to identify some of his cut-outs. Each of the three firms has approached one of those agents as possibly customers for the fighters. If Amaris wants to use those factories’ output for his plan, he’ll keep Richard from interfering.”

Hanse’s laughter filled the room.



Sidebar: The Age of War

"Let he who desires peace, prepare for war."

Although military conflicts on some levels had been ongoing since the Outer Reaches Rebellion of 2236, the First Andurien War of 2398-2404 is generally held to be the start of a new era of interstellar conflicts. Eight of the ten states that would later make up the Star League had come into being by the mid-twenty-fourth century, with the six great Houses of the Inner Sphere gobbling up smaller rivals until their borders were now pressed against each other.

Smaller states continued to exist along the periphery but their conquest was no longer the focus of attention. Starting from 2398 all six Great Houses shifted to a new mode of strategic thinking. It was no longer possible to consider conquering their rivals outright – all six were of sufficient size and power that this was logistically untenable given the economics of the time. Since each state bordered at least three rivals, it was unfeasible to divert enough resources to one front to attain ultimate victory without exposing yourself on two more.

Instead wars were fought cautiously and for limited goals felt to be attainable. Only through a succession of such campaigns could great progress be made, but the breaks between campaigns to consolidate would inevitably allow the defender to regroup. Exacerbating this were the Ares Conventions, which succeeded brilliantly in preserving the infrastructure of still fledgling economies and populations but legitimised war as a method of addressing conflicts of interest. Borders fluctuated rapidly but even internal turmoil such as the Dark Years of the Commonwealth (2467-2504) and Davion Civil War (2525-2540) didn’t inflict long-term harm upon the states, any more than military advances such as the BattleMech provided long-term domination.

The Age of War was therefore an age of deadlock, a ‘golden age of chivalry’ that Ian Cameron decried as pointless and futile bloodshed as he worked to establish the Star League as a viable alternative. He was right that warfare had accomplished very little during the previous century and a half – all three Andurien Wars had ended with more or less identical disposition of the worlds in question, and the only realms to vanish from the maps during this era were the result of diplomacy, with Rasalhague formally throwing its support behind the revived Kurita dynasty in 2510 and the United Hindu Collective allying with the triumphant Alexander Davion in 2540.

While the border worlds were shaken and dissidents from these regions were directly responsible for the creation of the last two major states within the Periphery (the Magistracy of Canopus founded by a renegade Andurien Mechwarrior and the Outworlds Alliance by a retired Federated Suns admiral respectively), the core worlds of each major state had settled into recognisable and cohesive national identities.

As the Star League was formed, economies struggled to adapt and discharged soldiers looked for places to turn. It was as much a nostalgia for the old certainties of conflict as Periphery recalcitrance that led to Cameron’s new Age of Peace sparking war on a scale never before seen in human history.

Avalon City, New Avalon
Crucis March, Federated Suns
19 July 2764

“Sir. The Minister of Intelligence is on line three for you,” Owen reported.

John closed down the report on education levels along the outer edge of the Suns – for all the concerns about wars, civil or otherwise, there was still the mundane business of government to deal with – and turned to the video phone. “Francesca,” he greeted her as the screen lit up. “Has something gone wrong?”

“I couldn’t say, but you did ask to be kept up to date about any developments affecting President Amaris.”

John straightened. “I did indeed. What have you learned?”

“It seems that he’s intending to depart Terra for Apollo,” the Minister of Intelligence reported. “And not for a brief visit – all indications are that this will be his first extended absence from the capital in more than ten years. His departure is expected before the end of the week.”

John took a deep breath. This sounded unfortunately similar to what Hanse could recall of the events from his history. “Do we have any idea why he’s decided to leave – some argument with the First Lord?”

“That’s possible, sire. We know he has had sequential meetings, first with General Kerensky and then with the First Lord. Lord Cameron is reportedly quite upset about the decision.”

“And Kerensky?”

“It’s hard to say. His staff are extremely loyal and he went to Fort Cameron almost immediately.” The minister paused. “Sire, if you have any additional information from your other sources then my analysts might be able to assemble a better picture of what’s going on.”

“Other sources, minister?”

“Respectfully, sire, there are a couple of times where you’ve been just a little too accurate in pointing us towards data for it to be guesswork – I’m assuming that House Davion have their own private informants outside of normal channels.” She hesitated again. “By the writ you set up for my office, the Ministry ought to be receiving all intelligence data, whatever the source.”

John laughed. “Even if the source is the First Prince, eh? I’m sorry to disappoint you, Minister, but there’s no secret. Just my own personal analysis of events.”

Reznick’s lips twisted. “Sire, Military Intelligence have been looking for the source of some of the raids on the outer reaches of the Suns for decades, but the data that let us narrow down an approximate location of the so-called ‘Dominion’ was you and I can’t trace it back any further.” She met his gaze. “I understand protecting sources, sire, but the entire premise behind my Ministry is that we needed a wider view of events than that which MI2 was providing. If information is being withheld, I can’t offer you assurance that we’re giving you the best possible data.”

The trouble with sharp subordinates was that sometimes you cut yourself on them, John thought ruefully. “If there were such a source, Minister, hypothetically, then let us suppose that it was something that had no material records whatsoever. And that it concerned a handful of data points so sensitive that they were only discussed in person and never with an absolute and definite need to know.”

“That’s no way to run an intelligence operation, sire. Hypothetically.”

“Think of it as a classification that matches the old saying, Francesca. The one along the lines of two can keep a secret, if one of them is dead.”

Her eyebrow arched. “I know the word is abused, but do you mean that literally?”

“I’m sure you don’t expect me to answer that. You can speculate, of course, but privately.”

“I… see. Or rather I don’t but this will likely keep me up at nights wondering.”

“Your curiosity is one of your key qualities, Francesca.” John paused and coughed. “Anyway, we were discussing Stefan Amaris and reactions to his departure. Based on your Ministry’s analysis it seems very likely that anti-Star League sentiment in the Rim Worlds Republic is just as strong as it is in the other territorial states, correct.”

“While MilInt has limited infiltration of the Republic, our available sources confirm that.”

“The insurgency movements in all three of the other Territorial States all have appear to have at least tacit support from the governments – again, nothing’s proven, but it’s very likely that information and even material is being provided. What’s the end goal?”

Reznick considered that for a moment. “There’s no hope of a military solution against the SLDF. It’s just too strong. My assumption has always been that they were hoping the expense and effort of keeping the peace would force the Star League to change the policies that have been put in place. The, if you’ll excuse me, the very short-sighted policies.”

“You’re not wrong on that last point – and I supported some of them so I can’t look elsewhere for blame. Of course, the weakness with that is that the SLDF is disproportionately supported from the Terran Hegemony, so the costs don’t impact the other five member-states to a great effect. A super-majority of the Council, in other words, have no driving reason to do as the Periphery lords hope. And having attended Council meetings with them, they’re fully aware of that.”

“So what do they hope to gain?”

“Let’s look again at the Rim Worlds Republic. Why are they different from the others?”

“That’s their traditional position – House Amaris were founded by a Terran ambassador to the Republic, they’ve always considered themselves to be at least half Terran. I believe Lord Amaris actually has citizenship in the Hegemony.”

“Yes, but what’s that ever got them. Their personal loyalty to the League didn’t sway the rest of the Republic and even when the SLDF forced the Rim Worlders to bow to House Amaris’ wishes, they didn’t get treated as equals. In short, they’ve been treated the same as the Calderons, Centrallas and Avellars – rulers of conquered provinces, retained simply to retain a layer of legitimacy. A pretty weak layer of legitimacy.”

“So you don’t think that Lord Amaris is actually loyal to the Star League, sire?”

“I am speculating, I admit that. But if we accept that the arms shipments you’ve been trying to trace are actually going to the Periphery to support insurgencies, then someone very well connected is covering for them. And who’s the most prominent representative of any Periphery state in the Hegemony?”

“Stefan Amaris.” Reznick’s mind was ticking over rapidly. “He’s not just the First Lord’s confidante, he’s met practically everyone who is anyone in the upper levels of the Hegemony and the Star League’s government and business circles. And even if someone wouldn’t do a favour for him, all he’d have to do is drop a hint that he’s acting on Lord Cameron’s behalf and he’d have a lot of credibility. If he really is the Periphery’s inside man then he’s in position to do an immense amount of damage.”

“There’s no proof, of course. Suspicion is far from enough to do anything directly, and even if I had some evidence, it would need to be incredibly damning in order to convince the First Lord. We’d be accusing his closest friend, someone who’s almost a second father to him. Anything short of a personal confession by Amaris would likely be rejected.” John took a deep breath, “This could all be wrong, of course, but if it isn’t… then why would he leave Terra?”

Francesca Reznick grimaced. “The only plausible reason in that scenario would be that they’ve reached a stage of operations where an inside man is no longer useful. Respectfully, sir, that’s a worrying proposition.”

“Oh, I can think of worse.”

“I’m quite terrified to ask.”

John met her worried gaze with her own. “We agree that there’s no way the Periphery can defeat the SLDF as it stands, but the SLDF is highly dependent upon the Terran Hegemony. So is everything in the Star League – it was deliberately set up that way. So, how could the Periphery states eliminate the Terran Hegemony as a factor?”


LXII Corps HQ, Kaiyuh
Crucis March, Federated Suns
18 October 2764

“So that’s the latest development in the house militaries,” McGuinness’ staff intelligence officer reported. “It’s unlikely to impact on us directly, but if a Lyran formation does turn up here, remember that from the regimental level up they’ll be significantly larger than unit designations suggest.”

“Also unwieldy as all hell,” the Corps Commander noted. “God in heaven, can you imagine trying to ship a sixty-four ‘Mech battalion anywhere?”

“To be fair, at other levels it wouldn’t be out of line,” General Delacroix noted. “Just treat one of their regiments as an understrength brigade or a brigade as a division in all but name.”

“That’s just going to be even more confusing,” complained McGuinness. “Probably the idea, actually, the Archon might be trying to confuse force listings when sanity breaks out and the Star League Council put some arms limitations back in place. Sooner or later this arms’ race has got to hit the limits of what they can afford. Is there anything else on the docket?”

“Nothing from my office, ma’am,” the intelligence officer confirmed.

“Right. Well that brings us to the immediate future.” Standing, McGuinness moved over to the wall display and zoomed out until not only her own operational area but also the entire Taurian Concordat was visible. “We’ve had an advisory for Headquarters to draw up plans for a possible redeployment.”

Delacroix smiled slightly. “My 225th, the Corps or the entire Army?”

“The army.”

“Merde.”

“Quite.” McGuinness’ face was set. “We all hoped that the SAS busting the headquarters of the TFA on Camadeierre would give the insurgents across the border second thoughts, unfortunately every other band of terrorists in the Concordat seems determined to make up for the lack of that particular group.” She shrugged. “So while nothing’s been confirmed, the Commanding General has given advance warning that if things continue to deteriorate he’s going to reinforce Nineteenth Army and declare martial law across the Concordat?”

“Can he do that?” asked the staff legal officer. “It would need -”

“I think we can assume that General Kerensky wouldn’t put it in a briefing if he wasn’t sure he could,” McGuinness cut the junior officer off. “General Baptiste has given us and outline and we need to be ready to move fast if the order is given.”

She took a laser pointer and ran it along the Taurian border with the Federated Suns and the Capellan Confederation. “Once the order is given, the first step will be to relocate the armies in question to cantonments along the Taurian borders – secure bases for future operations. House Liao is likely to squeal, so be grateful that we’re not having to deal with them. The First Prince is much less likely to object given how co-operative he is in general. My understanding is that if SLDF bases don’t have enough capacity, AFFS bases may be loaned to us for the purposes.”

“So we move to reinforce the 101st Jump Infantry on the border?” asked Delacroix, pointing to where the nearest of the LXII Corps divisions to the Concordat was stationed on Armington.

“Not quite. We’ll use those bases as transit points, but we’re just preparing them for units further away. “Third Army will be staging into those bases and as soon as they arrive we’re to continue our movement and join forces with the other three Corps of Fourth Army at the spinward end of LXX Corps’ usual operational area.” She circled the region in question.

“Two entire armies would seem sufficient,” her Chief of Staff said thoughtfully, “but that would leave half the border so I assume there’s more.”

“Spot on, Douglas. Our neighbours in Sixth Army will be consolidating into XXXVII Corps hunting grounds to cover the far end of the border and Seventh army will leap frog them to join us in LXX Corps sector. Added to the Nineteenth Army inside the Concordat and that’s near enough a quarter of the SLDF’s strength. Back in the Reunification War it took twelve divisions to bring the Taurians to heel – well now we’re going to have just over a hundred.”

“Now maybe they’ll do the smart thing when they see what’s lined up. I wouldn’t expect it, personally, but it could happen. Professionally, I hope it happens. But if it doesn’t… then we’ll be crossing the border. We don’t have any plans for that yet, although we will need them ready so that’s going to be an order of business in the next few months, but the movement plan comes first.”

Delacroix cleared his throat. “If we do, as you say, cross the border then will you be remaining with us?”

“I damn well, better had.” McGuinness jutted her jaw out. “I know my great-grandfather served here. I know the Taurians take issue with him and by extension, with me. That’s not my problem and I don’t care one way or the other about the Taurians. If HQ choose to recall me, I will protest it.”

“If they’re trying to persuade the Taurians to stand down then you could be a bit… inflammatory.” Douglas Pardoe shrugged when she glared at him.

“Maybe. I’ll grant you that maybe it might have an effect. But we’ve tried sweet reason for a long time and I don’t think the Taurians are likely to listen. But force – or the threat of force – should. And just maybe, when that happens, the lords on the Star League Council will look at it and remember that we’re not just here to keep the Periphery in line. That thought could get it through to them, with a bit of luck, that they need to start thinking very hard about the decisions they’ve been making.”

“Because if they start mobilising then we’re the ones who will shut them down. And none of them, not one of them, wants to be the next one that this happens to.”

McGuinness’ grimly determined face reminded her staff all too well of another face, one from the historical holovids. Their corps commander’s great-grandfather, General Amos Forlough, had been one of the most noted officers in the SLDF’s first generation, the generation that had fought the long and bloody Reunification War. History recorded that he’d commanded both the war effort against the Outworlds Alliance and later that against the Taurian Concordat with great success… but also with unparalleled brutality compared to his peers on either side of the conflict.


New Avalon Military Academy, New Avalon
Crucis March, Federated Suns
1 November 2764

The BattleMech on display this time wasn’t a cutting edge prototype, or at least, not exactly. It moved with certainty and the blocky profile made it clear that this wasn’t intended as a specialist unit but more for tough, frontline operations.

“It looks like a Warhammer knock-off,” Joshua muttered from beside his father.

“Actually, the Warhammer was a Terran copy of it,” John corrected him.

“I know, dad. But that’s what everyone’s going to think. And the Warhammer replaced this, so it’s a knock-off.”

“For those facing it, young sir, we don’t mind that impression,” advised the representative from Achernar. James Barrowcliffe had served twenty years with the SLDF and then another ten years with the AFFS as an instructor before the Federated Suns’ premier BattleMech manufacturer had made him an offer he couldn’t refuse. Or at least, he would have been mad to decline – his salary was comparable to that of a Marshal and most of all, he had a chance to play with all the newest ‘Mechs in development while the AFFS had been about to retire him from active piloting due to his age and a suspicious heart flutter on his annual physical.

“But those piloting it should know better. The basic design is three hundred years old but there are still Battleaxes in secondline service in some units. And the reason the design was copied is because it’s sound – you drive a Marauder, right?”

Joshua nodded. “Sure.”

“So what are you complaining about PPCs in each arm for?” Barrowcliffe turned back to John. “The original had LRMs launchers in the chest, so they could alternate fire with the PPCs – the heatsinks weren’t enough to handle sustained PPC fire. Well now we have modern cooling technology, the same ones used in the Emperor assault ‘Mechs Star Corps sells to the AFFS, so that’s not an issue. We replaced them with short range missile launchers like the one mounted up above the right shoulder to provide a cohesive short-range punch – twelve tubes in total. That’s as much as a Javelin or a Whitworth.”

John nodded. “I noticed that and I recall that a lack of short-range firepower was one of the reasons the Battleaxe was originally retired, but another was the armour protection.”

“Sire, we are way ahead of you. This using Norse-34 plating instead of the original StarGuard X and we allocated more weight to protection as well. The chest plate section is between twenty-two and forty-five percent thicker, depending on angle, than the original. That’s comparable to your son’s Marauder.”

“Well if it’s sufficient for the First Prince and his heir, that’s quite respectable,” John agreed, amused at how Joshua had turned away and was counting under his breath.

“And then there’s the cap de’ resistance,” the ex-SLDF sergeant revealed. “Don’t ask me where they got this, but the electronics… I’d swear they’re on par with SLDF line hardware.”

“That’s rather impressive.” John knew exactly how Achernar had come by the electronics, but he wasn’t about to discuss that in public.

Barrowcliffe beamed. “So would you like to give it a try?”

“Ah, I stay current but I’m hardly test pilot material,” the prince demurred.

“You shouldn’t need to be – it’s fully specced for production standards. This is exactly what we’ll be supplying when it’s accepted for service.” The older Mechwarrior grinned. “I suppose I should say if, but a little bird tells me that this demonstration is mostly for form’s sake.”

He was right about that. Forming the four Crucis Dragoon regiments had tapped out a lot of the available heavy and assault weight BattleMechs in stores and if the plans to double the strength of the formation went through, with the idea of maintaining them as the equivalent of their SLDF counterparts, then demand for heavy ‘Mechs would spike again.

John was about to decline the offer when he saw Hanse grinning and nodding. “Well, maybe just once around the testing track,” he conceded. “I do have other commitments today.” I should really give it a try before asking our soldiers to use them, he justified the decision to himself.

With the academy facilities on hand it didn’t take long to outfit the Prince with a cooling vest and a neurohelmet. As a jeep carried him out to the feet of the Battleaxe, he found Hanse – perched beside him – was similarly dressed.

“Eager for a ride?” he murmured, counting on the sound of the jeep’s engine to prevent the driver from overhearing him.

“Yes, I am,” the 31st century Mechwarrior admitted. “I can’t eat or drink, my wife isn’t here and you’re literally the only other person I have to talk to – which is nothing against you, but riding a ‘Mech, even as a passenger, is one of the few experiences left for me.”

Rather than a ladder – although it was embarrassing to be treated as if he were old and decrepit, the First Prince was too valuable to risk him losing his grip and falling several metres – John was lifted up to the cockpit and clambered into the cockpit. Hanse darted past Barrowcliffe and clung to the back of John’s seat, where there probably wasn’t actually room for him. The Battleaxe’s cockpit hadn’t been designed with all the modern amenities and displays that were standardised now, and fitting them had left it a little cramped.

Still, there were worse. Family legend had it that the reason the Suns didn’t build the Stinger, alongside the Wasp one of the most common light ‘Mechs in use, simply because Nikolai Rostov – father of the traitorous general who had been Alexander Davion’s last rival in the Davion Civil War – had been unable to fit inside the cockpit when the Hegemony manufacturers sent an example of what they hoped to export to the Suns. Perhaps that was just a myth – John had never been in a Stinger himself, but the head was certainly slim enough to make it plausible.

Barrowcliffe leaned in and went through slight variations from standard controls that the Battleaxe sported. The primary triggers on each joystick were for the respective PPCs, the secondaries for the missile launchers in the chest, while the right thumb controlled the shoulder mount – very similar to the layout of his Marauder. Assured that John was confident about what he would be doing, the test pilot pulled back and the cockpit sealed, air pressure building slightly as the environmental systems kicked in and over-pressurized in case of any external smoke or worse, any chemical agents. Not very likely on a test track, but you trained the way you expected to fight.

John pressed the activation bar on the fusion reactor and felt it rumble to life beneath him. They must have expected someone to accept the offer to try it out because instead of the usual voice print checks, the security was restricted to a pair of keys that had been the hands of Barrowcliffe and the pilot who had carried out the earlier demonstration.

“Let’s go,” Hanse urged eagerly.

“Hold your horses.” John ran the basic diagnostic checks first, checking that all systems were good to go. It occurred to him that someone would be monitoring him on the radio and chuckled. Fortunately he’d not said anything suspicious. Who wouldn’t be eager, under these circumstances?

Finally assured that he was fully prepared, he pushed down with his feet and seventy tons of metal moved at his command, striding forwards across the training ground.

Hanse cheered loudly. “I missed this, have them set up targets for you to shoot.”

John shook his head but after they’d completed a half-circle of the track, a target indicator popped up anyway, simulating a hostile ‘Mech – amusingly enough given his earlier musing, a Stinger. “Track control, am I cleared to fire on the target.”

“Roger that, sire. Show it what for!”

“I’m surrounded by children,” John said with fake disapproval and moved the joysticks to centre the crosshairs over the simulated Stinger. On impulse he closed his fingers on all the triggers, unleashing a complete alpha strike. The interior of the cockpit grew close and unpleasantly warm in response, the limbs of the Battleaxe moving sluggishly as the heat of the weapons fire sapped the effectiveness of the myomers – but the target had vanished in a very satisfying flash, just as a real Stinger would have if struck by such a tight salvo.

“Nice shooting,” Hanse encouraged him. “Are you going to try to try the jump jets?”

It was an immobile target, John reminded himself. Nothing to be too excited about. “I’ve not jumped a ‘Mech since I graduated from NAMA,” he said, half to track control and half to Hanse. “I think I’ll refrain from putting these to test.”


Court of the Star League, Unity City
Terra, Terran Hegemony
12 February 2765

“The problems of the Periphery are problems of our making,” John warned. “Some of them date back to before I was part of this Council, but I’ve seen some of them come to pass.” He looked around the table – Minoru Kurita was deputising for his father, Kenyon Marik sat between the Combine’s heir and the First Lord (who was resting one elbow on the table). Closer sat Barbara Liao and Robert Steiner.

When did I become the old man at this table – by God, it’s been twenty years since I first sat here?

“Not one of you was here for the vote to remove the Edict of 2650 or to approve the Tax Bill of 2753. I can tell you now that they are among my most serious regrets.” He looked across at Kenyon, partly hoping that his appeal would find some traction with the young Captain-General and partly to avoid looking at Hanse, as the redhead had wrapped ghostly fingers around Minoru’s neck and was attempting to strangle the oblivious samurai. “We have a chance to rectify the mistakes that I and your forefathers made. I therefore ask for your support in removing the taxes imposed in 2753 and placing a new cap upon the military forces permitted to the Star League’s member-states.”

There was a pause as he sat down. He hadn’t expected applause, but would someone at least respond?

Richard Cameron moved his arm suddenly. “Ah. Uh, thank you for your proposal. Who wishes to speak next?”

Had he even listened? John thought bleakly.

Beside the First Prince, Robert Steiner harrumphed. “I’m not convinced it would be fiscally responsible to overturn 2753. The League’s budget has already required fresh taxes, as the First Lord put forwards eighteen months ago. Without that revenue, the various expenses of running the Star League… well, something has to give.”

“Subtracting the costs – the vast costs – of the SLDF fighting a constant guerrilla war in the Periphery would more than counter-balance that. We’ve spent more supporting those efforts in the last ten years than we did paying for the entire Reunification War!”

“Well, if you don’t adjust for inflation perhaps,” the Archon shot back.

“You have an idealist’s view of the Territories.” Kenyon Marik spoke at last. “They don’t respond to softness, only to violence. Perhaps you should turn your eloquence to the well-being of the SLDF’s soldiers, Prince Davion. It’s wasted on proles.”

Not one of the four Territorial States was represented today. Amaris, of course, remained in self-imposed exile on Apollo, which had allowed seating arrangements to return to the traditional. The other three had cited the unsettled status of their states as reason to remain at their capitals to ‘co-ordinate’ with Kerensky’s armies.

No one had called them on the fact that Kerensky was sufficiently convinced of their collusion with the insurgents that he had placed an embargo on any efforts to coordinate SLDF activity with local military forces or through the offices of the national governments.

“I am thinking of the soldiers – because if it does come to open warfare, they’ll be paying the price for our high-handedness,” John advised. “You’re all aware by now that General Kerensky is planning to redeploy more than half of the SLDF out into the Periphery, barring any drastic improvement in the situation there. But you may not be aware of the opposition they’ll be facing.”

“The territories don’t have fifty ‘Mech regiments between them,” the Marik reported scornfully, “And more than half of them are in the Republic where -” he nodded to the First Lord “- they needn’t be considered hostile. Kerensky is taking more than thirteen hundred BattleMech regiments to the other three states, even before you consider the supporting arms. Calderon, Avellar and Centralla would be outnumbered something like seventy to one if they tried anything.”

“It’s closer to four or five to one,” John told him. “And Kerensky will be fighting them on their home ground, which evens things out even more. He’ll probably win but the butchers’ bill will be a heavy one.”

“You must be exaggerating,” Barbara Liao said sharply. “Where would they find hundreds of regiments’ worth of equipment from?”

“General Apfelbucher has had a few findings on that matter.” He gestured to the door. “She’s in the palace now – would you rather hear it from her than from me?”

“By all means, I’m rather sick of your voice,” the Chancellor told him frankly.

It only took a few minutes for the head of the SLDF’s Intelligence Command to arrive, standing in the middle of the horseshoe table where they could all see her.

Minoru spoke first. “General Apfelbucher, the First Prince has suggested that the Periphery has assembled some kind of ‘Secret Army’ that represents a sizeable fraction of the SLDF’s strength – comparable to any of our individual House militaries in fact. Can you support this?”

“I can confirm that someone is, Lord Kurita,” the white-haired woman replied politely. “And if it isn’t someone at this table then that doesn’t leave a long list of suspects.”

“Start at the beginning,” Richard told her testily.

“Of course, sir. My own command and Member-State Liaison began an investigation a few years ago. Military manufacture has been a booming industry since the days of your grandfather, Jonathon Cameron. Much of that has gone to the SLDF of course, and over the last ten years to the House militaries, but the numbers didn’t seem to add up.”

“What we found is a pattern of shipments that we couldn’t pinpoint a recipient for. Small quantities individually, the sort of orders that might be made by corporate security forces or a mercenary outfit, but the buyers seem to be shell companies, existing only on paper. To give an example, a shipment of twelve Firestarter light ‘Mechs was ordered from Coventry Metal Works in 2759, in the name of a company registered in the Hegemony. We’ve followed the ‘Mechs as far as Alarion but as far as the paperwork shows, they should still be in a warehouse there. They aren’t, of course.”

Barbara Liao sneered. “A few ‘Mechs here or there don’t add up to Davion’s alarmist predictions.”

“Individually, small shipments. In total the numbers are much higher, Chancellor. Saroyan Special Production, on your own homeworld, has sold over four hundred atmospheric fighters in the last ten years to companies we’ve been investigating – never more than thirty at a time, but it adds up. And heavy military equipment like this is just the tip of the iceberg. The quantities of first rate infantry gear that we can’t account for is even larger.”

“What sort of numbers are we looking at?” asked Minoru thoughtfully.

“You’re correct to compare this to the size your own forces, sir.” Apfelbucher twitched a control wand and a set of charts popped up on the holo-display. “There’s enough equipment here for six hundred or so regiments, perhaps a quarter of them BattleMechs. If that’s split across all three of the current battle zones it would represent near parity of strength with the individual SLDF armies that make up normal garrisons. If all of them are located in only one of them, then it could be as high as sixty or seventy percent of the forces on hand if General Kerensky’s proposed redeployments go through.”

“Let’s not fool ourselves,” John warned. “If this comes to a fight then the SLDF won’t have an easy fight on their hands. Casualties will be in the tens of thousands, at least. That’s young men and women from our worlds, bleeding and dying because we’ve gouged the Periphery like pigs at a trough. There’s very little opportunity left to avoid that.”

“I have to disagree,” Minoru said slowly. “Thank you, General,” he added to Apfelbucher. “I have no further questions, but I hope you’ll share your findings with the ISF?”

“We’ve been sharing data with all national agencies,” she confirmed. “My report is available in today’s classified data archive.”

“You’re dismissed, general.” Richard waved his hand at her. In a wonder of patience he waited for the doors to close before standing. “How dare they!?”

“They -”

“And how dare you,” he continued, pointing at John. “How dare you suggest appeasement? The Captain-General is right, completely. These traitors have been plotting rebellion, and you think that sweet words and tax cuts are in order?”

“I’ve seen war, Lord Cameron. I’ve begun a war once. No soldier in their right mind considers war anything but a last resort.”

“And I have seen the SLDF in action,” the First Lord replied. “I spent three months with General Kerensky observing the PERSUASIVE FORCE exercises eight years ago, right on the frontlines. More forces were amassed for that training exercises than everything you and Chancellor Liao committed to your so-called war. It’s time for the Periphery to see that might first-hand. My lords, I call the vote on Prince Davion’s proposals and I vote nay.”

“Nay,” agreed Kenyon Marik and a moment later Barbara Liao repeated the same word. Half of the council against, which made the decision even before Robert joined them in opposing the abolition of the taxes and of re-instatement of arms limitations.

“Lord Kurita?” asked Cameron.

“On balance, I abstain.” Minoru shrugged. “I am personally as shocked as you to hear that the Periphery has built up such forces, but my father has spoken alongside Lord Davion in the feeling that perhaps some of the measures that they voted for during Kerensky’s regency were less than well thought out. It would be unfaithful of me to vote against wishes of my father but nor can I sanction treason by the territorial states.”

Unseen by anyone but John, Hanse Davion jumped up onto to the table and kicked Minoru full in the face. It had no effect, of course.

“Very well. The council has voted and I accept your decision.” He closed the folder with his proposed legislation and set it inside. “I take it then that General Kerensky has approval to move his forces out to reinforce the garrisons in the Concordat, the Alliance and the Magistracy?”

Minoru nodded. “I suggest we approve by acclamation. Do I hear opposition?”

No one spoke. Marik nodded, as did Robert Steiner, albeit grudgingly. The Coordinator’s son rose to his feet and turned to face Richard squarely. “First Lord Cameron, it is the unanimous opinion of the Council that the SLDF should carry out the recommended troop movements and be placed on a war footing.”

Richard Cameron nodded sharply. “I will have my aides prepare the order for us all to sign before we conclude today’s session.”

I wonder, John thought, how long it will take for anyone else to realise the size of the precipice we just stepped off.


Sidebar: History of the Lyran Commonwealth

"The original banner of the Commonwealth was the Lyre, to show they’re a bunch of fiddlers."

The Terran Alliance’s three generations of stagnation produced a new wave of migrants as the victims and losers of 23rd century politics made an exit. However, the commercial availability of starships also provided a lure of profit. The scattered colonies desperately needed trade to survive and this offered wealth and power to those who could deliver it.

In the Coreward-Anti-Spinward sector of human space, the Tamar family had an early advantage, having an established trading network they quickly transitioned to providing anti-piracy defences after the fall of the Alliance. Before the end of the century, Ian McQuistion had transformed Skye Traders into the Federation of Skye and shortly afterwards his one-time protégé Seth founded the Protectorate of Donegal. The reformation of the Terran Alliance into James McKenna’s Terran Hegemony in 2314 marked an upswing in trade, leading to increasing industrialisation by Skye (which was surrounded on all sides) and expansion of Donegal and Tamar with dozens of new colonies.

In 2339 Kevin Tamar brought the established links between the three states to a new level, proposing that they form a combined state that could compete with the much larger Draconis Combine on his border and the Free Worlds League that flanked the other two. While the basic agreement to form the Lyran Commonwealth was concluded in 2341, it took until 2346 to come to an agreement on the government structure and the merger of three distinct economies provide wildly problematic.

The original council of nine Archons also proved drastically corrupt and utterly unable to agree upon which of them should be first among equals (Archon Basilieus). In 2375, with the Tamar Pact on the brink of exiting the Commonwealth they themselves had formed, Seth Marsden’s grandson Robert had had enough. Gathering evidence of his fellow Archons corruption he embarked on a tour of the Commonwealth to assess the results of efforts to stabilise the economy and secure support of planetary leaders. With this support, Marsden formally ousted his peers and became the sole Archon and absolute leader. A new constitution established the Estates General, dominated by his allies, and established a loose set of rights and responsibilities for member rules. Worlds that didn’t comply were brought to heel with blockades or in eight cases by invasion. Both Tamar and Skye were among the eight.

Robert’s brother and heir Alistair Marsden led the Commonwealth into the Age of War, dying victorious after the first great victories in holding back the Combine. His widow, Katherine Steiner, secured the support from the Estates-General and (to the gratitude of history students everywhere) resumed her maiden name, making the son Marsden had never known Alistair Steiner. House Steiner had arrived and while Margaret Olsen, wife of Alistair’s younger son, almost repeated Katherine’s feat in 2501, Robert Steiner successfully secured domination for his House after three years of civil war.

Like any dynasty, the Steiners have produced strong leaders and weak ones. Ironically the Star League has thus far posed the greatest threat to their rule. Archon Viola Steiner’s absence to command the Rim Worlds front of the Reunification War exposed her family to an attempted coup and her berserk response severely damaged relations with the powerful rulers of Skye and Tamar. A generation later, the wealth and prosperity of the Star League persuaded many of the Estates-General that the Commonwealth should be disbanded with the Star League as the only government needed. Only a passionate appeal by Archon Kevin Steiner saved the Commonwealth as a unitary government.

Fort Cameron, Unity City
Terra, Terran Hegemony
12 February 2765

“And that’s it,” John explained. “I’m sorry, general. I didn’t want this to happen but I haven’t been able to persuade anyone that the problem starts here, not out in the Periphery.”

Kerensky nodded and exhaled. “I thought that it was a long shot, your highness. But I appreciate the support.” He looked down at the sealed envelope on his desk. “This is it?”

“I thought the least I could do was to deliver it personally.”

The general took a letter opener from his desk and levered the archaic wax seal away from the paper envelope. Electronic copies would be on file but there was a degree of additional security and formality in having a paper copy of the orders.

Inside was one sheet of headed paper. Framed between a formal citation that this was a directive of the Star League Council and five signatures were only two paragraphs of instructions.

“I’ll send the orders then,” Kerensky confirmed. “And I’ll join the forces in the Concordat myself – it’s the most likely flashpoint and if one of the other states needs my attention, I’ll be in-between the Alliance and the Magistracy.”

John nodded. “I asked the Council members to send some of their house regiments to support you, but they weren’t interested. Even Minoru refused.”

“That doesn’t particularly surprise me. They’re probably all considering the possibility that you’re wrong about the missing equipment going to the Periphery.”

“Well it has to have gone somewhere.”

The Terran ran one hand back over his shaved scalp. “It’s an interesting blind spot for you to have – didn’t you consider that one or more of the Council could be behind the purchases? The equipment could be sitting in Combine military stores, or somewhere in the Free Worlds League with no one the wiser.”

First Reznick and now Kerensky, I need to be more careful, John thought. “It’s possible, but since Takiro Kurita revealed the depth of the reserves that the DCMS had been building up, the member-states have been watching each other like hawks and we’re all under broadly the same constraints when it comes to personnel and of financing that sort of build-up. The Periphery might have been hit harder by taxes, but they don’t get the same scrutiny.” He smiled sadly. “It’s ironic really, despite everything we’ve done to disadvantage them, the Member States still trust each other less than we do the Territorial States.”

“You may be right. I’m not quite as convinced, but even the possibility of running into that equipment in the Periphery is concerning.” Kerensky shook his head. “Don’t worry too much about not getting support from the House Militaries, it would really only have symbolic value.”

“Sometimes symbolism is important. Even if they’ve decided to sit back and let you do the lifting, the AFFS isn’t going to make that mistake. I’ve given advance orders to concentrate the equivalent of one of your infantry divisions in the Draconis Combine to support your operations in the Outworlds Alliance and I’ll scrape together another unit that size for the Concordat.”

Kerensky’s eyes widened. “That’s quite generous of you, Lord Davion. Are you sure that your High Council will approve of such a deployment.”

“The High Council will listen to the people’s voices and the Star League has a lot of grassroots support, General. You saw it when Simon visited the Lyran Commonwealth in 2750 – it didn’t matter that the Archon and his nobility snubbed him, crowds gathered to see the First Lord and to support the Star League. We – the great lords – have spent too long selfishly thinking that we could prioritise our own realms and leave the League to sort itself out. I don’t have to keep making the same mistakes I did before, that the others are still making.”

Wordlessly, the general extended his hand to John and the two men shook hands.

“Your troops will be welcome,” Kerensky promised, voice full of emotion. “I’ve got a great deal of work to do now, but I hope to speak to you again before we both leave Terra – and perhaps I could visit New Avalon when I’m on the way to the Concordat?”

“Of course, General. It would be my honour to host you and your staff. And please don’t hesitate to call on the AFFS’ shipping and facilities to help with the redeployment. We’re at your service.”

“I’ll hold you to that. General Venel has been tearing his hair out over moving so many units across the Inner Sphere. A few hundred more jumpships and warehouses might stop him from ending up as bald as I am.” Kerensky’s lips curved as he made one of his rare jokes.


Avalon City, New Avalon
Crucis March, Federated Suns
20 April 2765

“Sire, your son is here to see you?”

John looked up from the financial reports he’d been examining. Supporting the SLDF’s movements was costing the AFFS a small fortune, although it would eventually be offset by Kerensky’s Quartermaster Command ordering billions of dollars of supplies from worlds along the Outworlds Alliance and Taurian Concordat borders. It would be a bumper years for farmers there, as well as the manufacturers of thousands of mundane items that were consumed by military formations. A proportion of that investment would make its way back to the treasury as taxes were collected.

“Send him in.” He rubbed his eyes and closed down the terminal. While he trusted Joshua, there was no point making him look at fiscal reports – he’d have to suffer that soon enough as it was. In another fourteen months or so his son would have completed his five years of military service, qualifying him for formal recognition as Heir Apparent.”

The door opened and Joshua closed it behind him. “Thanks for making time for me, father.”

“You’re a welcome relief from some of this paperwork. I’d have thought you’d be enjoying your last couple of days of freedom before the ‘Bane redeploy to Galax.” Shuffling units to cover for regiments being attached to the SLDF had left the increasingly important industrial worlds in need of a new garrison and Colonel Stopec had agreed that the Fourth Davion Guards could be spared from New Avalon to fill the need, since there would still be the New Avalon Crucis March Militia and a battalion of the First Guards to ensure the capital’s security, along with elements of the SLDF’s Sixty-Fourth Royal Brigade.

Joshua moved to one of the armchairs in the office and leant against the back. “That’s what I was hoping to ask you about.”

“Oh?” John walked around the desk.

“I’ve requested a transfer to the Twenty-Second Robinson Chevaliers.”

“The ‘Zombie Knights’?” he asked, using the regiment’s nickname – reference to how often they’d been destroyed in action, survivors used as a cadre for raising a new regiment of the Chevaliers. “I didn’t think you were unhappy with the Fourth. They’re who you asked for when you graduated.”

“I’m very happy with the Fourth, dad, it’s just…” The younger Davion looked down at the chair, fingers plucking at the cushioned back.

“It’s just that the Twenty-Second are one of the regiments we’re sending into the Outworlds Alliance, while the Fourth are on garrison assignment.”

He got a nod in reply.

“You’re eager for glory?” John was surprised at the harshness of his tone.

“What?” Joshua looked up. “No, not at all! It’s just… I’ve got experience, well some. The Knights don’t have anyone in a company grade slot that’s done that and there’s an opening for a lance commander. I figured…”

“Most of the regiments in the AFFS haven’t seen much real action. Probably less than twenty percent of our junior officers have been shot at for real.”

“Yes, I know. It’s why I thought, it could save lives if they’ve someone who’s already been through that. That’s all.”

“One of the reasons I chose the Twenty-Second for this deployment was so they could get that experience. It might also tame some of their… wilder qualities.” John turned to the window. “You know how nasty it’s getting there.”

“I heard that there was a nuclear attack, like the one on Demeter.”

“Something very like it. But it wasn’t a factory, it was one of the SLDF’s fortified bases, and half a regiment was vaporised, most of the survivors hospitalised. Say what you will about the war with the Liao but we had some restraint on the battlefield. The Taurians and the Outworlders know they don’t have that luxury, they’re so badly outnumbered.”

Joshua straightened up. “Sir, I know I’m your heir but regulations ban any special favour for Davions served in the AFFS.”

“That’s true, so why are you asking for one.”

“I mean you can’t keep me out of danger.”

“I wish I could,” John told him. “Your mother wishes that too. But Davions don’t shirk our duty and one of those is service to the AFFS. I won’t block it if General Moscoe’s department decides you should join the Twenty-Second, or any of the other regiments we’re seconding to the SLDF for operations. But I won’t pull any strings to get you selected either. If they say no, you’ll suck it up and get on the job you have been given.”

He felt like a hypocrite for saying that. He and Eis Moscoe had already agreed that vacancies in the units operating with the SLDF would be filled first out of sister-regiments, as would transfers of experienced personnel out. The Robinson Chevaliers in the Draconis March and the Syrtis Fusiliers in the Capellan March badly needed combat veterans and so they’d be the first choice for blooding on this campaign. No regiments of the Davion Guards were being sent, so Joshua’s transfer request wouldn’t be approved.

At least, I’d decided that before Joshua brought this up, John comforted himself.

His son nodded obediently. “I promise. I won’t bring it up again, whatever happens. Mark’s putting his name forward too.”

“I’ll be hands off on that as well, although I doubt that Personnel will be moving anyone out of the First Avalon Hussars when they’re still rebuilding from the battalion they lost during GALAHAD.”

“I kind of thought not.” Joshua finally sat down and John took the chair across from him. “I get the feeling he’s going to stay in though. It’s not like me – I know I need to do my time in Administrative Services after one tour of duty. Mark likes having some structure and the military gives him that.”

“He’s a smart boy. He could go far.”

“Yeah, if things had been different then he might have made a good First Prince.”

John shook his head. “I have trouble seeing my cousin Joseph as settling down with anyone, perhaps especially Susan Rand. There was a lot of passion there, but underneath that… maybe not much. A good woman, no doubt, but Joseph had a double-dose of our family’s wild streak.”

Joshua shrugged. “If something were to happen to me, I’m just saying that the Suns could do worse.”

“Mark’s grandfather could have legitimised him if he’d wanted to. I told him when he declared me his heir that I wouldn’t protest. Since he didn’t I’ll respect his decision. If the worst comes to the worst, the next in line is your cousin Alexandra.”

“She’s going to the Concordat, isn’t she?”

“Her regiment’s one of the jump infantry units we’re tapping for that, yes. They almost got called up for the Border war when we considered pushing on St Ives instead of the Sarna worlds.”

Joshua shuddered. “And mom was upset about me going to war. At least I was riding something with armour, you’d never get me up on a jump-pack.”


Avalon City, New Avalon
Crucis March, Federated Suns
23 April 2765

“I was impressed with Johnston’s demonstration,” Kerensky agreed. “I’m not going to commit to them at this point of course, but for a company new to the military market, they seem to have their act together.”

“I’m sure the Count will be glad of the endorsement, even if you don’t contract them for any units.”

“I suspect he’d find a customer anyway.” The general declined a glass of water and looked down over Avalon City from the windows of John’s office. “You certainly snapped up General Motors’ new medium when our procurement decided it didn’t suit.”

“One man’s mistake is another man’s opportunity,” John told him. “We had Blackjacks in the field three years ago and they didn’t have any of the problems that the press reported. Good workhorses.”

His guest made a non-committal noise. “Anyway, I’ll cut orders to see if Johnston can rework the Culverin to suit our needs. If we do need more tanks, it’d be quicker to ship them from Barstow than from Terra, even if Johnston can’t build them as fast.”

“Every little helps.”

“I’d hoped five hundred light years of distance might loosen Amaris’ grip on the First Lord, but apparently not.” Kerensky pressed one hand against the window. “I expect he’ll be back on Terra within the year. Richard claims that I threatened the man somehow, that he didn’t feel safe being on the same world as me.”

“I know he met with you before he left for Apollo, but wouldn’t have thought you’d have been so blatant.”

“I was tempted to,” the older man admitted. “That fat fool. Richard needed more attention than I could give him but he wasn’t spoiled until Amaris turned up. The court on Apollo is a snake pit and he brought its poisonous ways to the heart of the Star League.”

“It’s easy to underestimate Lord Amaris. He plays the bluff provincial very well.”

Kerensky turned. “You think it’s a front?”

“You said it yourself, the Rim Worlds Republic’s court is a political nightmare. House Amaris has had to struggle against their cousins in the other major Houses to retain power – look at the Siever Coup. Two brothers work together to kill the new President and then turn on each other with knives only moments later. Do you really think someone as simple as Amaris claims to be would have survived so long?”

“I thought he spent so much time on Terra because his rivals wouldn’t dare to try to remove him while he was surrounded by the First Lord’s security.”

John shook his head. “It probably doesn’t hurt, but I believe he’s been several steps ahead of his enemies all along – both those on Apollo and the others across the Inner Sphere. And I’ve no doubt he considers us amongst them.”

“Would someone who’s pushed Richard into so many damaging decisions really be the sort of… mastermind that you’re suggesting?” asked Kerensky hesitantly.

“I wondered the same. If his goal’s to be the power behind the throne then he’s more or less managed that. But perhaps we shouldn’t confuse a skill at manipulating people with administrative skill. The Rim Worlds is ruled with a heavy hand, I suspect that much of the First Lord’s mistakes stem from thinking that emulating Amaris will work when in fact the political traditions of most of the Inner Sphere are far more liberal. I warned him two years ago about that.” John shrugged. “I doubt much of it sunk in.”

Kerensky shook his head. “Tyrannies rarely end without pain. I’m Russian, we know this.”

“I don’t see a Simon Davion waiting in the wings, perhaps fortunately. Just because it worked for my revered ancestor, a palace coup on Terra would be a disaster.”

“Ah yes. Your own tyrants. But they ruled only for a few years. Not like the Czars of old.”

“I’m glad I didn’t offer you more than water, you must be an incredibly morose drunk if you’re this bad sober.”

Kerensky shrugged. “I’ve no idea. I don’t drink to excess.”

“Are you sure you’re really Russian?” John teased.

“Quite.” He turned around and walked over to the desk. “I have limited time and you said something about shipping.”

“I did, yes. Calderon and the others have to know that even if they do have the sort of reserves General Apfelbucher uncovered, they can’t realistically hope to fight the SLDF on equal terms. That means we have to expect asymmetrical warfare, and logistics are the Achilles heel of any operation – particularly on the sort of scale we’re faced with now.”

“You expect that they’ll try to target supply bases in the Member States?”

“Possibly, but your deployments allow for that. The Taurians have a long naval tradition though, and they might target the supply convoys instead. Nuclear missiles aren’t easy to come by but they’re far easier to come by than warships and even a single hit could wreck a jumpship or put one of your frigates in the dock for a year of repairs.”

“Delivering such a missile is not as easy as one might think, but they only have to get lucky with one missile to hurt us, yes.” Kerensky rubbed his chin. “So we will need more ships for escort duty.”

“Yes, and honestly, the Federated Suns isn’t big enough to make up the difference.”

“I didn’t want to be the one to say it, but no. That would leave the ships we have in the mothballed reserve fleets.”

John moved behind his desk. “Takiro Kurita is as sympathetic as any of the other Council Lords and Barbara Liao hates me, not you. And they’ve probably been looking at the military contracts being picked up by the Federated Suns and feeling a little hard done by.”

“If they were to be as unobstructive as your realm, I would be happy to buy from their corporations,” the General protested.

“It’s always easier to blame someone else though. What I had in mind is the old Carson and Naga-class destroyers the SLDF mothballed years ago. They’re well behind the cutting edge but they’re suitable for convoy defense.”

“The Carsons were retired for engine difficulties, were they not?”

“According to my naval staff, it was due to faults with extended use of their engines above routine thrust. Given they were supposed to patrol, that was a problem but convoy work means sticking at jump points with the freighters and transports, so that shouldn’t be a problem.”

“You want me to authorise yards in the Combine and the Confederation to recondition those ships for service?”

“It could soothe some feathers – some of them could be repaired in the Suns but we don’t have the capacity for a hundred destroyers and the Hegemony’s yards are mostly committed to new construction or your existing maintenance schedule.”

“All of this will cost millions of dollars, of course.”

John spread his hands. “One successful raid on the supply routes could cost that much easily. You and I have both warned the Star League Council of how expensive this war may become. Perhaps when they see the impact on the budget it’ll persuade them that we’re not just blowing smoke in their face.”


Newhope, Mavegh
Perdition Union, Taurian Concordat
28 May 2765

Alexandra Davion liked to think she was basically a good person. She spared at least a split second to hope that the family who lived in the apartment had evacuated the building before the fighting began. With that done she threw a concussion grenade through the window.

The explosion cut off the machine gun fire that was coming from the balcony and two of her squad dashed forward in the opening. As soon as they were far enough away not to catch someone in the backwash, they ignited the jump-packs they were wearing and bounded up and off the street. Someone down the street turned a second machine gun in their direction but it was too late, the men plunged into the apartment, one going through what was left of the window and the other crashing through the French window of the balcony.

From the cover she’d ducked back into, Alexandra unslung her carbine and lined up a shot on the second machinegun using the optical sight on the upper rail. When she fired the laser she saw the machine barrel jerk fiercely. With luck the shot had damaged it rather than just brush it aside. While barrel replacement wasn’t a matter of Kearney-Fuchida physics, it wasn’t something you wanted to be doing in the middle of a fire fight either. That made just about everything harder.

“Clear!” the two advance members of the squad called and the next two joined them rushing across the street. This time one of them, Brubaker, took a hit and blood sprayed from his leg as he went down.

Without thinking about it, Alexandra dived out from behind cover and caught hold of him by the jump-pack, yanking him towards the opposite side of the street. Her pack couldn’t have carried them both, even if she could have supported the weight of someone who had a good ten kilograms over her, but he had sense to kick off with his feet and they somehow reached the shelter of the entrance to the apartment building’s lobby.

“You going to be okay, Brubaker?”

The energy behind the obscenities he was muttering convinced her that the answer was yes.

“Did anyone see who shot Brubaker?” she demanded on the squad push.

“Sniper, leftenant. APC’s moving forwards to suppress him so we can re-join you.”

“Right.” Shaking her head she looked up at the stairs as heavy boots stamped down it.

“L-T?”

“Yeah, give me some cover.” Bending she checked Brubaker’s leg now that she wasn’t having to keep an eye out for more Taurians. It looked like a through and through – must have been a small calibre round. “What are you whining about?” she asked him, pulling an injector out of her vest. Stabbing it into the man’s calf she injected him with a painkiller and then uncapped the other end so she could spray the outside of the wound with a combined anti-septic and sealing agent. “I’ve hurt myself worse playing hockey.”

“I heard about girls’ hockey,” he grunted. “Worse than rugby.”

“Sit down and sleep it off,” Alexandra directed as the remaining three members of her squad joined her. “You guys keep an eye on the stairs, the front door and -” She looked across the lobby, seeing that a second door opened on a children’s playground, surrounded on three sides by the U-shaped block. “- the back too.”

“Sniper’s dealt with,” Weber advised, his broad face discomfited. “Kid with a hunting rifle, he fell out of his roost after Second squad threw a grenade up into it.”

“Alive?”

“Three floors down, broke his neck,” the trooper said sadly. “What the fuck, L-T? I mean, why?”

“Good question. Keep an eye on Brubaker while I scare up a medevac.” Adjusting the settings on her comm-gauntlet, she raised it to her lips. “Third squad, can you bring the APC forward two streets. Brubaker’s taken a leg hit and we need him inside of something mobile.”

“Got a problem, Leftenant. A bendy tank’s between us and you, can’t get past it.”

“Never rains but it pours,” she said. “Taurian or a SLDFer who got stuck?”

“Number one. We don’t have the firepower to handle that.”

“Great.” The Turhan – nicknamed the bendy tank for the articulated joint linking the armoured cab and one infantry compartment with the turret and a second infantry bay in the aft section – was a middling sized tank designed to get around the tight confines of an urban combat. The dual lasers would be lethal against the wheeled APCs that provided her three squads with most of their mobility. “Where’s our heavy support?”

“Last word from Golf Seventeenth was that they were ‘jousting’ with enemy ‘Mechs about five klicks away.”

‘Jousting’? Goddamn mechjocks. G Company of the Seventeenth New Syrtis Fusiliers were supposed to be backing up this infantry sweep, not chasing bait around the corn-fields. “Anyone else available?”

“Next nearest is the SLDF task group thirty klicks south.”

“Yeah, not figuring they’d get here in time to be useful.” Besides, they had their own infantry to support, she thought. “Okay, I’ll figure something out. Let me know if it starts moving.”

Right, Alexandra. Tactical exercise time. One tank, armed with two machineguns, one in a cupola, and a pair of large lasers. You have nineteen jump infantry counting yourself, and three APCs. Terrain is urban, four storey blocks… Right. Use the rooftops.

Against ‘Mechs that would be stupid – you wanted to be down in the dirt where the lordly ‘Mechwarriors would miss you scurrying around their ankles. But tanks were different, they were more likely to be watching ground level and miss something above them – unless the tank commander was smart. But how likely was that?

This one is smart enough to divide your force, she reminded herself. And the Turhan might have supporting infantry. “Who has grenades left?”

Three hands went up. “Great, well volunteered. You’re with me.”

“Save the grenades, Jack, you might need them later,” the oldest of the three jump troopers grumbled as he followed her up the stairs. “Great thinking, Danny. Especially if we get dragged into playing hero.”

Alexandra chuckled. “Right, we need the Turhan out of the way so we can get Brubaker to the APCs. In theory there could be anything up to a platoon with it so we need to play this cagey.”

The roof door was locked. Alexandra shook it once, then pointed the carbine’s muzzle at the hinge pins where they were visible. Two long pulses pulverised the pins and when she smacked the door it bounced out of the frame.

“Why not shoot the lock?” the youngest member of the squad asked, adjusting the shooting goggles he wore under his helmet.

“It’s usually a safe bet that the bar of a lock is sturdier than the hinge pins,” Jack told him before Alexandra could reply. “If you don’t mind, L-T, I’ll take point.”

Easing out through the door he swept the roof with the muzzle of his own carbine. “Clear, but we’ll be awfully exposed. Better crawl.”

The four soldiers wormed their way along the roof and the spectacled soldier produced a field periscope – not part of the usual kit – from his pocket so Alexandra could look over the edge of the roof without exposing herself.

Sure enough, she saw a Turhan occupying the next junction broadside on, turret pointed in the direction of her APCs and Third Squad. There were dismounted infantry facing the same way, except for a couple of sentries covering the rear – perhaps two squads in total. The tank itself had SLDF colours except for a hastily stencilled white set of bull-horns painted on the side to mark its Taurian allegiance.

“Could be worse.” She turned around and lifted her comm gauntlet to her lips. “Second squad, what’s your position?”

“Moving back to support Third.”

“Right. We’re going to want suppressing fire on the enemy infantry in a couple of minutes, can you provide that?”

“We’re more or less in front of the Turhan. Once its machinegun opens up we’ll have to back off.”

“That’s fine, just get their attention.”

“Can do, L-T.”

“You’re thinking vertical envelopment,” said Jack, now looking through the periscope. “That means taking out the men covering this side.”

“Yep. Who are the best shots?”

The man raised his hand and then pointed at the thus far silent woman with them. “Me and Sammy. That just leaves you and Danny to handle the grenades.”

“Hand over your spares,” Alexandra demanded and raised an eyebrow at the selection. “Four frags, two concussion, a smoke grenade and… is that an incendiary?”

Sammy flushed. “They’re handy sometimes,” she said defensively.

“That wasn’t a complaint,” Alexandra assured her, taking the incendiary and a concussion grenade. “You take the smoke and a frag,” she instructed the other trooper. “If they’ve dismounted the infantry then the hatches won’t be dogged down from inside. Or it’s not likely – they’d want the men to be able to get back inside quickly and the commander would want to be able to stick his head out of the turret to talk to them. So I’ll jump for the top of the turret and you take the side-hatch on the forward section. Crack it open, drop the grenades in and then get away.”

“This isn’t exactly the approved way of dealing with tanks, Leftenant.”

Alexandra grimaced. “I know, but the Mechwarriors otherwise involved.”

Jack looked up at the sky. “Somewhere out in the open with no cover?”

She followed his gaze and saw the contrails of jet engines marking the sky. “I’d assume so. I suppose they’ll be getting a lesson in close air support. Nothing much we can do about it.”

Her comm-gauntlet crackled. “L-T, we’re ready when you are.”

Alexandra turned, gripping the two grenades in her free hand. “Ready?”

Jack and Sammy crouched, ready to lean up over the roof edge, while Danny nervously adjusted the fit of his jump-pack. They all nodded.

“Go!” she snapped and took two running steps before triggering her pack.

As she arced up over the street she saw laser fire impacting the front of the Turhan. Both sentries turned in that direction and then fell without any other warning.

As the machine gun on the prow of the tank opened fire, Alexandra saw the hatch on the turret open and the helmeted head of the tank’s commander rise into view.

He couldn’t possibly miss seeing her, she saw wide eyes and the machine gun in the cupola slewed towards her but she was too close, above its arc.

Her boots crashed down onto the roof of the tank with knee jarring force and Alexandra let her legs collapse beneath her, driving the heavily reinforced comm-gauntlet into the side of the tank commander’s head, right below the edge of the helmet. She felt bone break and he slumped sideways.

Not stopping for a second hit, the young woman primed both grenades and dropped them past the stunned man.

She flung herself off the Turhan and sprinted for cover inside the nearest building, a corner store. Out of the corner of her eye she saw Danny heading for cover behind a heavy planter on the pavement.

Thick ochre smoke billowed from the forwards hatch of the Turhan, followed by the thump of her concussion grenade and the sharper bang of the frag.

For a moment nothing seemed to happen and then the tank commander started screaming. He dragged himself out of his hatch and rolled himself off the edge of the turret, legs on fire. More smoke, this black and greasy, rose from the cupola.

“Tank’s out of action,” she snapped. “APCs, move in and clear the infantry.”

With a roar of engines the three personnel carriers accelerated down the street towards the Taurian infantry, twin mini-guns spitting fire at them. Without the lasers of the tank to deter them, they were more than able to push the Taurians back and four of the infantry tried to fall back behind the burning Turhan’s bulk. Renewing their fusillade, Second squad cut them down.

Five minutes later Brubaker was sitting in one of the APCs while three prisoners were being manacled inside another as Alexandra conscientiously reported in the sight of jet aircraft, knowing that none were in use here by the AFFS or SLDF. It probably wouldn’t help the Fusiliers, but at least she’d tried.


Sidebar: Autocracy vs. Democracy

"To lead, first find out where your followers are going. Then get out in front."

The political chaos of the Terran Alliance Parliament was the herald of the end for the liberal western democracy as a model for leadership over the centuries to follow. Out on the colonies, the turmoil led to a demand for strong executive authority to deal with the crisis situation, rejecting the ‘tyranny of a distant majority’ that the Terran Alliance had represented. Almost immediately, attempts were made to rein such authority in with checks and balances.

Naturally the growing pains of new systems of government were drawn out and bloody. In general though, the era was one of worlds rallying around capable and charismatic leaders. The wisest of these leaders listened to popular opinion but delegated power only to trusted friends and family who they knew shared their interests. Typically these rulers amassed power in part through ownership of the industries growing up to fill gaps left by the Terrans. It’s no accident that even before House Davion rose to dominate New Avalon they owned the shipyard responsible for the first Avalon-built starships.

With communications still limited to courier vessels, diplomacy took time and military forces could be out of touch for months or even years. Both diplomacy and military leadership became invested in personal relationships. Shiro Kurita’s ability to dominate a vast swathe of worlds in a very short span of time was very much invested in the trust he could place in his brother Urizen and their respective broods of children. Terms of office were no longer customary given the preference for long-term stability and rulers groomed their successors within their inner circles, raising their children to inherit not only their property but the political power that their wealth would grant them.

The establishment of the Free Worlds League in 2271 brought together three dynasties that had each established multi-world realms. In order to tie House Selaj, House Allison and House Marik’s interests to the new state, each family was granted hereditary control over one of the government ministries. While the League’s power would primarily be invested in a Parliament, it was understood that the Houses would be dominant within it. Similarly, the Lyran Commonwealth was founded upon the alliance of worlds dominated by the Tamar, McQuiston and Marsden families.

Once again, these realms learned however that sharing power left their alliances uncertain in leadership. While the Free Worlds League addressed this by appointing Captain-Generals to serve two year terms in the event of war or other crisis (a post that House Marik would almost exclusively control), the Lyran Commonwealth endured a generation of strife before Robert Marsden ousted his fellow Archons and assumed sole power. And yet… even here a balance was needed for among the first steps the new ruler of the Commonwealth took was to create the Estates General, an advisory board representing the interests of more than half the worlds in the Commonwealth.

While the dynasties adopted the titles and styles of a millennium before, very few would be so foolish as to assume their power rested anywhere but upon the, sometimes grudging, consent of those they led.