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Unity City, North America
Terra, Terran Hegemony
2 March 2578

Forty-eight hours and two nights sleep – one in Geneva and the other aboard the luxury airliner that had carried him halfway around the planet - had done much to restore Ian Cameron’s energy, if not his spirits.

“How bad it is?” he asked.

General Lee frowned. “Not good. We have three Corps along the border and with Davion changing sides, they’re trapped. I Corps might manage to get across the border into the Capellan Confederation but III and IV Corps have little or no chance of managing it unless the First Prince allows them to leave.”

“You’re talking about effectively a third of the Star League Army being lost, not to mention the naval losses. The Taurians will no doubt take the opportunity to cross the border and smash them flat.”

Lee nodded grimly. “Unless some sort of diplomatic miracle is worked out, the entire Taurian front is gone. In the short term that doesn’t impact us very much.”

Shandra Noruff-Cameron made an inquisitive “oh?” sound and the General looked at his political patron. “With regard to the Periphery, they were mostly stationed there to stall Taurian aggression. There was no real expectation they would do anything but buy time in the event of a Taurian offensive. Given a year or two, naval support for them could have changed that, but  that isn’t the case now. In the longer term, of course, this is worse than last spring.”

“How bad?” It was Nicholas’ first time at being involved in a conference at this level but unless he was very unlucky, it would not be the last.

His mother answered. “If we don’t turn this around fast, the entire SLDF is going to be essentially ruined. The loss of manpower and equipment will take years to replace but the damage to morale will be even worse.”

“What do we have left?”

“Right now we have IX Corps on the Rim Worlds front, II and VI Crops on the Outworlds front and V and VIII Corps facing the Canopians. There are also Auxiliary Corps from the Lyrans and Draconians, with new Corps forming from the FWLM and CCAF. Just to give you a contrast, we’re reasonably sure that the Taurians alone can equal the regular SLDF Corps once we deduct the three already on their border.”

Ian nodded. “We can’t win the war on the ground. That’s been increasingly clear. So we need a victory and we can only really achieve it in space. What do we have that we can use to obtain a victory? If possible something that could be used to recover the three Corps that we’re expecting to be overrun.”

“Well... Half our reconditioned ships are on their way towards the Taurian front – fortunately they’ve barely crossed into the Federated Suns so we can get word to them before they wind up trapped. They don’t have the supplies for an extended operation though. In fact,” Lee looked uncomfortable, “I recommend holding them back to defend the Hegemony. I think we have to assume that Prince Davion’s neutrality won’t extend to blocking his ‘cousin’ from sending her troops to our border with him.”

Nicholas nodded. “What about the other half?”

“Halfway to the Canopian front,” Lee told him after a questioning look at Ian. “We’re probably going to need to redirect them to the Capellan border with the Federated Suns now.”

“I suppose. But really those two forces are the only ones that we can use right now, right?

His elders exchanged looks. “You have a point,” admitted Ian.

Shandra looked thoughtful. “I think we’re going to have to throw out our strategic doctrine – the Periphery obviously aren’t operating by it – and look at other options. What we really need is a victory like New Samarkand – hitting one of their capital worlds.”

“Those are going to be tough targets. Anything we send may not come back.”

“At this stage I don’t think  we have any safe options,” she told Lee. “Hitting a capital would go a long way towards rebuilding morale – we’d be striking back – and it would force them to watch their rear areas far more than they are already. What are our options?”

“Well there are... let’s call it eight hostile states at this time. I think we can scratch Tortuga, the Marians and the Oberon Confederation off the list – we just don’t have the navigational data to reach them.” Lee frowned. “We don’t have that problem with Filtvet but to be honest it’s an unreachable distance now that we can’t stage from the Federated Suns. So we have a choice of Alpheratz, New Avalon, Taurus and Canopus.”

Ian nodded. “I don’t think that Taurus is feasible, from the naval figures that we’ve seen they could very well have the Hyades fortified with more ships than we can send after them.”

Pulling open a terminal, Lee did some calculations. “We can use the ships heading for the Canopus front for an attack there or pull them over to strike at New Avalon, but it would be faster to use the ships we were sending to Taurus to head for New Avalon or of course Alpheratz.”

“I don’t like the idea of using the second force,” the Drector-General observed. “And in any event, for all the trouble that they’ve caused, striking at the Outworlds capital wouldn’t change anything. They’re being propped up by the Taurians already. Let’s focus on New Avalon and Canopus using the ships currently in the Free Worlds League.”

“In some ways they’re the most vulnerable targets,” Shandra mused. “We know that Alexander has centralised power into his own hands, governing the Federated Suns from New Avalon alone. Losing New Avalon wouldn’t break his resolve but it would seriously destabilise the Federated Suns, leaving them as much less of a problem for a year or two.”

“And Canopus?” asked Lee curiously. He’d been more interested in the military capabilities of the periphery than their politics.

“The Magistracy and Canopus IV are virtually synonymous. By reports almost twenty percent of their entire population and presumably a comparable degree of their industry and government are on that one planet. I wouldn’t go so far as to say that whoever holds Canopus holds the Magistracy – if nothing else, Andurien would provide a viable alternative capital – but even its temporary loss must cause enormous political and economic damage.”

Nicholas nodded. “There’s the other aspect, mother. As you might imagine, the Professors at Sandhurst had me look at the ruling Houses of our new neighbours, to the extent we have information on them. The Magestrix is the only adult member of House Centrella. If she dies – and given her previous history it’s far from impossible that she’ll fight in the defence of Canopus personally – then the Magistracy will be faced with a crisis: either find a regent for her daughter or elect a Magestrix from outside House Centrella. In either case, it’s not beyond belief that they’d be willing to accept some sort of deal in order to remove our forces from Canopus.”

“Let’s not get too optimistic,” warned Ian. “Most likely Protector Calderon would send forces to relieve Canopus. But since that means that the forces in use aren’t fighting us, it buys us more time. I have to admit that Canopus sounds just as appealing a target as New Avalon. Still, in either case, we will lose may, if not all, of the ships and soldiers that we send. That will hurt morale even if we win. In that case...”

“If the next battle is is a victory then the Star League still has a chance of survival. If it is a defeat then I suspect Ian Marik will seek a private peace,” Shandra observed bleakly.

Nicholas swallowed. Such a move would leave Alistair Liao isolated, both geographically and politically. It was highly probably that Ursula Liao would be able to contest his rule, probably with support from the Periphery and the Federated Suns.

It was likely that the Lyran Commonwealth and Draconis Combine would remain loyal – although Hehiro Kurita might well demand concessions for that loyalty. That would be the end of the Star League however. What would remain would not be his father’s dream, it would simply be a supra-national alliance, part of a polarised humanity.

Ian’s thoughts must have been following the same track. “Better in that case that the Star League be dissolved.”

That drew shock from Shandra and General Lee but Nicholas nodded. “It would make the Reunification War from the history the Periphery told us look like a pushing match.”

“Yes.” Ian sighed. “So we must send a large part of what remains of our forces out to seize one of these two worlds. We know of New Avalon’s defences, but Canopus IV...”

“Perhaps ten to twenty warships. A considerable number of orbital stations. It is one of, if not the, principal shipyards that the House Centrella controls.” General Lee nodded. “More formidable than New Avalon, but it’s likely that an attack could yield a formidable amount of data on their advanced technology.”

“Good point there. Not to mention...” Shandra started searching through documents on her terminal. “Where was it... ah yes. There’s an economic analysis derived from reports made by the Free Worlds’ ambassador to Canopus in the thirty-first centry. The key point is that while the Canopians have a lower population than the Taurians, their economy is considerably more flush and heavily invested in international trade – not just for their anti-agathic treatments but any number of other biological fields. If their economy takes a downturn then the ripples will shake all the others. The Federated Suns isn’t closely tied into that network and losing New Avalon wouldn’t have the same degree of effect.”

“Worse, Alexander might simply decide to rebuild his government on Filtvet. That wouldn’t be well-received on New Avalon, but it would irrevocably tie his interests to the Periphery. Right now...” Ian drummed his fingers against a terminal. “Matters are more fluid. Alexander has stated that he wants peace with his neighbours. I’ll offer him that: a chance to settle his differences with the Star League and perhaps even negotiate the reforms he claims might make it palatable – but on the condition he allows the peaceful departure of I, III and IV Corps from the Federated Suns.”

“Meanwhile we’ll have General Kincaid plan a strike on Canopus IV using the fleet we’re already moving towards her and whatever she thinks best out of V and VIII Corps. How long do you think it will take to organise her forces and then reach Canopus?”

General Lee made some quick mental calculations. “Perhaps three months.”

The First Star Lord reached over and took his wife’s hand. “Then tell her that what she does this summer will decide the fate of the Star League.”

---

Terra Prime, Apollo
Republic of the Outer Reaches
14 March 2578

The trial of Gervais Stavros for the murder of Jervis Siever would be an open-and-shut case. The father of the Consul’s ‘under-secretary’ had after all been found standing over his victim’s body and stated gladly that he had done the deed and was proud of it.

The motive was obvious: a father pushed avenging his daughter’s suicide when her lover refused to take responsibility for her pregnancy. The defense would have an uphill battle and the prosecutor was being well-paid not to mention that Gervais was terminally ill and that his daughter, actually pregnant by a Ranger, was beginning a new life in the Oberon Confederation.

Justice, in the view of Charlotte Grimm, was being done. There was no use in letting laws get in the way of that.

“I hope that you will all join me in accepting Hakim Wbika as the new Consul for the Rim Worlds in place of the late Jervis Siever,” she concluded her speech to the senate.

The applause wasn’t rapturous, although given that she was at least nominating another Consul rather than simply declaring herself as First Consul she at least got some. There were, after all, a distinct lack of others holding executive authority since the election of a new Consul for the Rift Republic had been stalled since the Senate had assembled.

Wbika rose to his feet. “With the greatest of respect to her majesty, I must decline the nomination as I feel that our current governmental structures have failed to meet the demands of administration. It is perfectly understandable that we might experience a false start, but it is clear that the consulate structure is not adequate. The Outer Reaches deserve better from us.”

A senator from Treeline stood. “What do you suggest then? Star League soldiers are rampaging across my homeworld, we cannot afford dissension while we stand on the brink of conquest by the Lyrans.”

“I’m not speaking of dissension, I speak of unity!” The former admiral raised his fist towards the sky. “We cannot afford the division of the Outer Reaches into three separate Republics. Instead we should stand together as one. I propose that the powers of the consuls be returned to the Senate and that we sit in permanent session.”

Charlotte could barely keep from swearing. She’d offered Wbika Siever’s place as Consul to co-opt him but instead he was attacking her power base: if power reverted entirely to the senate then it would remove her own power as Queen. She would have to either relinish her authority or break away from the Republic, a dangerous move when so many of her forces were engaged against the Lyrans and far from home.

Fortunately her own senators would vote where she led them. That was something. “That’s a radical proposal, Senator but not one entirely without merit. Nonetheless, an executive role is required for administrative purposes. May I suggest that the Senate appoint Ministers to handle key roles on an interim basis while modifications to our Constitution are discussed.” She smiled towards Wbika. “I would defer to Senator Wbika’s military expertise as making him the natural choice as Minister of Defence, and perhaps I might be able to serve as Minister of Foreign Affairs.”

This time there was an upswelling of applause.

“If that is the wish of the Senate, then I am of course ready to serve,” Wbika agreed readily.

Charlotte calculated carefully. She’d pulled Wbika out of active participation in the coming debates over restructuring the government but no doubt he had proxies, just as she did. And it would be too suspicious to eliminate a Minister of Defence so soon after a Strategos had been vanished.

What she needed was a diplomatic triumph to overshadow Wbika’s military role. Hmm. Perhaps Marcus O’Reilly would be open to reason...

---

The Triad, Tharkad City
Tharkad, Lyran Commonwealth
19 March 2578

“Could you put this in simple terms for me?”

Selwin Kelswa looked over at the document in Kevin Steiner-Dinesen’s hand. “That would be the Civil Service’s estimates for the budget.”

“The summary,” agreed the young Archon. “I think I understand it but...”

The duke took the document and looked it over. “Oh yes. I’m not sure how serious that they are about that.”

“I may not be a financial expert, but I could balance my allowance.” Kevin looked at the paper. “Even I know that the new estimations for financing the war are going to be a pain to afford.”

“Yes. I think that we can afford them. The bureaucrats are probably making deductions for what they expect to drop into their pockets as tax is collected. Fire half a dozen and the rest will calculate more honestly.”

“I was rather hoping to reduce the tax burden.” Kevin produced two more documents. “The economy may be stabilised but it’s hard to call the Commonwealth prosperous, even after mother’s reforms. If we can’t inject some more cash then the alternative would be to take less out.”

Kelswa gave him a flat look. “Might be possible. How much.”

The Archon gave him a number. The Duke’s eyebrow arched. “Really.”

“Really.”

“Then start thinking about what to cut.”

“Yes.” He looked his years all of a sudden. “Father suggested that if I let it leak that I was considering cutting contributions to the Star League and see if the First Star Lord could be persuaded to put some more of the SLDF’s budget into our yards and aerospace fighters. He’s short the Federated Suns now – Cameron’s got to be sensitive about the prospect of losing another of us.”

“That same sensitivity could be pushed too far.”

Kevin nodded. “I don’t think threatening him will be all that productive. I was thinking that it might be best to just have Duke Aldo simply ask for the investments and point out we need something to get our economy out of the gutter.”

“It’s a thought.” Kelswa stared at Kevin. “We are after all still on same side.”

“You know somehow that voice makes me wonder how sincere you’re being.”

“Yes.”

Kevin blinked. “I... see... Another test?”

The duke went back to his own paperwork. “No. Let me know what you decide.”

“Except it isn’t my decision right now. It’s up to you and Duke Lestrade and Great-Uncle Elric.”

“Only if you want it to be.” Kelswa signed the document in front of him and moved to the next. “Would you rather abdicate your position?”

The teenager took a deep breath. “My apologies. That was petulant.”

“Archon, I think we’ve already seen just how far the Director-General is willing to go in order that the Star League remains united. I don’t imagine that he will take a direct hand but that doesn’t mean that he’ll raise a finger to help you if one of your relatives decides that they should be the next Robert Steiner. What he does will depend upon what he thinks will maintain his support from the Commonwealth.”

“Then...” Kevin shook his head. “I think he’d not want to encourage instability then. So if this is presented as a chance to forestall problem...”

The duke nodded. “That could be a better way to present it. And when it comes to... soft-soaping a matter such as this, we have the right man in the right place. Aldo Lestrade’s eloquence is famous.”

Relieved, Kevin nodded. “Thank you for the advice your Grace. I’ll write to Aldo.”

“There is no need.” Duke Kelswa smiled slightly. The unfamiliar expression looked strange on his face. “I have already done so.”

“I’ll leave it in your hands then,” Kevin answered and then turned away. I need to speak to father, he thought, afraid that his concern might show on his face. Is this the two of them simply acting responsibly as my regents or... or are they undermining me?

---

Danderson City, Persistance
Republic of the Outer Reaches
7 April 2578

Henry Gram could not help but compare Charlotte Grimm-Davion to the late Archon.

She was younger of course – by more than a decade was his guess – and had more the prettiness of youth than the classic Steiner beauty of Viola Steiner-Dinesen. There was also an apparent  softness – the Archon’s demeanor had always been cool and perhaps even ascetic while this was clearly a woman with both respect and interest in the luxuries of her position – silks and furs gave both her garb and her temporary throne a barbaric splendour.

“Welcome, your highness, to the Lyran city of Danderson.” Gram bowed his head, knowing that his uniform and mature dignitas would display the difference between his own civilisation and what passed for it in these ‘Outer Reaches’ as they called it. Harkening back to the liberation of colonies from the Terran Alliance on the early twenty-third century no doubt.

“I suppose it would not be diplomatic to point how far you’ve made yourselves welcome,” she replied wryly. “Your point is valid however: the battle here was won by the late Archon Steiner.”

An adequate counter-point. Perhaps the Oberonian was more accomplished than she appeared. Gram had no similar victory to claim. “Perhaps in light of that victory you bring news that the former Rim Worlds Republic has come to its senses and is now willing to accept the benevolent guidance of the Star League.”

Charlotte almost laughed. “The Star League might well be benevolent. Our histories are... mixed, shall we say... on that point. It would be hard to call it triumphant given their defeats at Estuan and New Samarkand, not to mention a dozen or so other skirmishes. And perhaps you’re not aware that there has been a defection?”

“A defection?”

“Ah. Word has reached my agents via Marian League. Communications there are still not what they once were but news has spread like lightning that Prince Davion – my own kinsman by marriage – has made a private peace with House Calderon.”

The Margrave shook his head. “That seems rather an incredible statement, your highness. Prince Davion...”

“Ah, the news will no doubt reach you through official channels sooner or later.” And when it did, it would underscore Charlotte’s advantage in communications. The HPG network through the Outer Reaches remained a patchwork but a long leg down to Finmark, only recently restored to rule from Apollo, had at last been completed. “One suspects that Cameron’s complicity in the overthrow of Ursula Liao has damaged his moral authority.”

Gram knew that she saw the flare of ambition in his eyes. Still, for form’s face he demurred. “Not all realms suffer from such internal dissension.”

“Oh, I know. But the fact that you are here shows that despite the drastic measures of Viola Steiner, that the Lyran Commonwealth is not amongst such realms. Otherwise you would be on Tharkad, seeking to undermine the Dinesen’s influence over the young Archon. You can hardly expect me to ignorant of the splits in the Commonwealth during this era and you are recorded as being at the heart of them.”

“If you know me so well... then what do you expect of me?”

“You desire that the provinces of the old Protectorate of Donegal no longer be exploited by the wealthier worlds of Tamar and Skye. Alexander Davion, perhaps the greatest Prince to ever rule the Federated Suns, chose to break with the Star League rather than see his realm used as a battlefield between the Terrans and the Taurians. Surely you see that now that the Outer Reaches are no longer held back by the quisling House Amaris it is Donegal that will become the place of confrontation between myself and the carpetbaggers of House Lestrade and House Kelswa.”

“You’re flattering me,” Gram accused , although without heat. “Implying that to follow Davion’s example would place me on a level with him in prestige. Do you imagine that such a suggestion would spur me to treason?”

“I think that Viola’s decision to imprison you was spur enough. The question is: does this give you an avenue through which you can pursue your ideals?”

Gram cleared his throat, knowing that the sound might as well have been a spoken answer. Maybe it did. “The idea of tearing Donegal away from the Commonwealth only to subject it to the rule of Oberon or Apollo is not my ideal.”

“No more so does New Avalon bow to Taurus.” Charlotte followed that truth with a lie: “I have no need to seek conquests in the Inner Sphere. The Outer Reaches can expand almost without limit towards the core of the galaxy. I would welcome an ally along my rimwards border.”

“The Lyran Commonwealth is both rimward and spinward of the old borders of the Rim Worlds,” probed the Margrave.

“Yes. But I speak for the Outer Reaches. The populations of the worlds spinwards of your borders have been quite hostile towards my government. Sadly it would seem that I could not consider them allies. Most regrettable.”

In other words, the Outer Reaches would not cut off Donegal from expanding in that direction. Henry Gram smiled. “It would be very much preferable to shed no more blood in struggling for these worlds if our differences can be settled diplomatically.”

“How very enlightened of you, Lord Gram. Would you like me to call for tea?”

---

Unity City, North America
Terra, Terran Hegemony
10 April 2578

Ian nodded in understanding of what Aldo Lestrade was saying to him. “I recognise your concerns, Duke Lestrade. Certainly no one wants the Lyran economy to suffer when our goal is prosperity for all.”

“I appreciate your understanding, sir,” the duke replied gracefully.

Ian glanced over at Shandra. “I was thinking that the new assault dropship programme could be expanded – we’ve put a lot of attention into our warships, but we need escorts as well.”

His wife nodded. “Without offering offense to the Shipil Yards at Skye or the Commonwealth’s own warships, dropships can simply be built in so many yards that this would provide benefit across several Lyran worlds rather than only one or two. “

“The logic makes sense.” Aldo crossed his legs. “What is this new assault dropship?”

Ian typed a code into his terminal, unlocking the secure directory. “I believe that I have the last report here. Ah yes. Project Achilles. We’d begun it several years ago once it became clear that modified transports weren’t going to be sufficient in combat roles. The original design was for a four and a half thousand ton dropship with engines capable of sustaining up to six gravities of acceleration.”

“That’s more than most aerospace fighters!”

“Quite. The goal was to have something that could intercept fighter formations before they closed in on SLDF convoys. However, we’re revising it to provide additional missile defense. The Star League Navy will need hundreds of them. I trust that that will satisfy the needs of the Lyran economy?”

“It sounds splendid,” agreed Lestrade. “I’m sure the Archon will be much relieved.” He glanced at the schematics on display. “I hope that this doesn’t pose a problem in terms of technological transfer?”

Shandra smiled. “Not at all. That law states that none of us can be forced to share our technology, but it does not say that we cannot provide it if we wish to. And the Terran Hegemony stands with its allies.”

“As does the Lyran Commonwealth. We have had some optimistic reports from Margrave Gram on Trell One. Given recent history,” Lestrade added in qualification. “I think it’s reasonable to say that we may have control of Treeline by the summer. From there we can hit Toland, which is only one jump from Apollo.”

Ian nodded. “That will be excellent news.  Let us hope that the campaign is successful. Bringing the Outer Reaches into the Star League would be excellent news.” He rubbed his hands. “We have some hope of harming the Canopian war effort as well. It’s too early to say for sure but this may prove to be a good year after all."

“After last year, Lord Cameron, we could all do with a good year.”

---

Outside the conference room, Lestrade was surprised to see the First Lord’s heir waiting. “Your parents will be along shortly, Lieutenant Cameron,” he told Nicholas, spotting the badges on the young man’s uniform, marking him as an officer in the Star Guards’ battalion stationed at the capital. While principle said that the next First Star Lord should be receiving actual experience on the frontlines, the current situation was so confused that Aldo could understand his being kept close for now.

“Thank you sir, but I was hoping to speak to you.”

“You were?” Lestrade considered him for a moment. “Well as long as your Captain won’t come looking for you.”

Nicholas smiled slightly. “I do have a legitimate reason to be here, sir. I promise I’m not hiding from the never-ending duties heaped upon junior officers.”

“It’s character-forming and totally necessary,” the Duke assured him. “After all, as a senior officer – much worse, as a noble ruler – you will find it only gets worse.”

“How wonderful to have something to look forward to.” Nicholas fell in stride with Lestrade as they walked out into the huge atrium of the building. An ornamental fish pond filled the centre of the room, lit by sunlight through the glass roof. “How is the Archon coping.”

“As well as can be expected.”

“That poorly?”

The duke shook his head. “The start of a reign is always difficult. Tragic as his mother’s death was, starting with regents is allowing Kevin to come to terms with his new responsibilities one step at a time.”

“I’m sure that that’s a great comfort to him,” agreed Nicholas thoughtfully. “I want to get off to a good start with Archon Steiner-Dinesen. After all, while I hope not to start my own reign as precipitously has he has, I do expect to be working with him for many years to come.”

“Is that a hope for him, or a warning?”

The younger man did not flinch. “A little of both. History shows that any regency will be an unstable arrangement. The Star League is an alliance between not only the nations but also between the Great Houses that rule them.”

“With all due respect, Lieutenant, your father’s policies suggest that he is not beyond partiality towards particular members of a Great House.”

Nicholas nodded. “That is precisely my point: from his perspective -” Lestrade noticed how the young man distanced himself from the decision. “- he allowed an internal matter of House Liao to resolve itself because in the end the result was a stronger Capellan Confederation. However, the removal of a dynasty could do nothing but destabilise a realm and that would not, in his view, benefit the Star League.”

“It seems a rather fine hair to split.”

“I’m told that politics is like that occasionally.”

“Every now and again,” conceded Lestrade. “Fortunately I can assure you that matters on Tharkad are quite stable and I will be more than happy to relinquish the burdens of office to Kevin Steiner-Dinesen when the time comes. My own responsibilities take up a more than adequate amount of my time as things stand and Duke Kelswa and I are quite aware that we owe our positions to the gratitude of Robert Steiner for our support against Margaret Olsen. A conflict in which your Deborah Cameron was quite partial, I believe.”

“I can assure you that the diplomats sent by grandmother to mediate were only doing their best to seek a peaceful resolution of their conflict. It was surely a coincidence that the ceasefire while they tried to avoid bloodshed bought the time necessary for Duke Reynold’s reinforcements to reach Tamar and swing the balance of power in the favour of the rightful Archon,” Nicholas promised him with a straight face.

“And perhaps it was. Because one lesson to remember in politics, Lieutenant, is that whatever turns out well from your actions is what you had in mind all along. The truth is a flexible thing in the courts of government.”

---

Unity City, North America
Terra, Terran Hegemony
11 April 2578

“I’m sorry Ian but I really can’t spare any more warships at this time,” the Captain-General explained apologetically. “We lost almost every major warship we had last Christmas or at Tellman’s Mistake. We have new ships under construction but I can’t pull anything free until the end of the year.”

“I’m not asking for your refitted ships.” Ian Cameron spread his hands. “If you can even free up older corvettes and destroyers we’ll refit them for you. But we’re weakening the defense around Terra in order to concentrate an offensive force. And you know how important the yards here are to the war effort. The SLDF needs some sort of fleet here.”

Marik shook his head. “We already handed over dozens of ships when the SLDF formed and we need to cover our own shipyards as well. We’re on the frontlines, First Lord. Bracketed by the Canopians and the Marians. If I can’t maintain the confidence of Parliament, then they might decide that Alexander had the right idea. I don’t need to spell out how much of a disaster that would be for the Star League.”

“Is that a threat?”

“No, Coordinator. It’s a warning. I’m doing everything in my power to hold the Star League together.” He sighed. “Look, I can pry some more regiments free from some of the provinces and transports for them. Would that help?”

Cameron sighed. “It would help in the operation to bring the Federated Suns back into the Star League, Ian. So yes. But we still need more ships from somewhere.”

Hehiro Kurita leant back in his chair. “My own forces stand ready to assist in operations against the Federated Suns but any ships diverted to the protection of Terra would have to come from those currently on that front. The embarrassment of a foreign invader setting foot on New Samarkand cannot be repeated.”

“How about moving some of the ships currently around Rasalhague?” suggested Aldo Lestrade. “Your new capital is more than five hundred light years from the war, surely you can strip a few squadrons from there.”

“That Grand Duke will remember that Rasalhague is no great distance from the Rim Worlds Republic. A region that your own forces have yet to subdue. Under those circumstances, the security around my family must be the tightest.”

Ian Cameron shook his head. “Gentlemen, please. We all agree that the Star League is important but I don’t expect any of you to strip your capitals. That would ask too much. The invasion of the Federated Suns won’t be possible for months, at best. Lord Hehiro, if you would be willing to station some of your ships over Terra this autumn and winter, it would be gratefully received. I know that deploying them before then would strain their logistics unacceptably.”

“Do we have news on Canopus?” asked Alistair Liao curiously.

“General Kincaid should have departed by now,” answered the First Star Lord. “The official story is that her Corps is embarking for St Ives to prepare to relieve General Wexford’s remaining garrisons.”

“The truth is that they are scheduled to rendezvous with Eighth Fleet in an unoccupied system near Dalton in the Oriente Federation. If all goes well they’ll jump into the Canopian system early in June.”

“And if all does not go well?”

“Then a little later. I have every confidence in Amalthia Kincaid.”

“Let’s hope so. Everything rides on this victory.” Ian Marik shook his head. “This is unnatural, you know. War isn’t supposed to be this way – a few key battles that everything else hangs upon and otherwise nothing but eerie silence! It’s...” He looked for words and only found one that he had used already. “...unnatural.”

“Constant battles would lead only to expensive attrition,” Ian Cameron replied. “Losing a ‘Mech or two in a skirmish is forgivable, but losing a destroyer or a cruiser that will take a year to replace? That’s harder to excuse even with the sort of fleets that are forming up. Thus, warships are only being committed in numbers where they are expected to accomplish great things. Estuan. New Samarkand. Canopus.”

“Warships are expensive.” Ian Marik cupped his hands. “But they are also, from battles so far, quite fragile under certain circumstances. Certain of my officers are suggesting that a defensive fleet might be more effective if it had more... expendable assets.”

“I’m not sure what you mean.”

“How long do you think it would take to convert a freight dropship to carry... oh, three or four naval missile launchers?”

“Converted merchantmen wouldn’t last more than a few minutes under the guns of a warship!”

“But a hundred dropships could launch quite a few missiles in those minutes. How many nuclear missiles does it take to destroy a warship?”

“Nuclear warheads are expensive...”

“Far cheaper than warship crews and hulls,” pointed out Hehiro.

Alistair Liao leant forwards. “I like this idea. Let the Taurians have a taste of their own medicine.”

The Duke of Skye said nothing, his eyes calculating.

“I’ll talk to the naval yards,” Ian Cameron said thoughtfully.

---

Avalon City, New Avalon
Crucis March, Federated Suns
15 April 2578

“I’m impressed by your report.”

Alexander stared out of the window of the briefing room, as he had through the entire presentation by Pitcairn. It was Vincent Davion who sat at the desk and delivered the response:

“I realise that you were put in a difficult position, operating behind the borders of the Periphery March while we negotiated peace but your report confirms to us that they have a degree of military strength that the Star League could not have subdued. You’re to be congratulated simply for having survived such a dangerous mission.”

“Thank you sir.” Pitcairn answered after a moment. “I understand that the Second Guards have been deployed to the border with the Capellan Confederation. May I have permission to rejoin them?”

Vincent shook his head. “I’m afraid not, Colonel.”

So I’m a scapegoat for the mission, sacrificed to appease the Arch-Duchess of Filtvet. Pitcairn wasn’t entirely surprised by the notion but however much he’d thought himself prepared, it still dug deep into him.

“Colonel...” Was Alexander’s voice thinner than Pitcairn remembered from all those months ago. “I cannot apologise enough for having sent you on this mission. I only hope that your new assignment makes up for it in some way.”

“My... new assignment, sir?”

“Yes. Vincent...”

“Among the information we’ve received from our future kinswoman is that by the thirty-first century the Davion Guards included not only the five regiments of our own era but also three specialised regiments: the Light, Heavy and Assault Guards regiments. Since we are no longer constrained by the arms limitation treaties of the Star League, it has been decided to add them to the Brigade of Guards’ roster.”

“It has? No offense, sir, but I’d have thought that building up the FSN would take priority. I mean – my mechwarriors and I didn’t even manage to reach the surface.”

“You’re right and Commodore Elliott will be playing a major role in that. However it will take years to restructure the AFFS towards that and ground forces will still play an important role in our defence.” The Prince Imperial smiled smugly. “And the expense will not be met by our treasury: the Archduchess of Filtvet has donated a large number of BattleMechs with which to equip them. These will be the first AFFS regiments equipped with these advanced BattleMechs and you’ll be taking command of the Davion Light Guards.”

“Sir, I have a couple of... requirements if I’m to do this.”

“Do you mean demands, Colonel?”

“Respectfully, sir.”

“I see.” Vincent looked over at his father who nodded slightly. “Alright Colonel. What do you... require?”

“Firstly, I’d like to bring all my people from this mission. I already handpicked them and I’ll need their expertise to form the regiment.”

“As you wish. And secondly?”

“Sir, I want a free hand. The current combat environment – the battlespace, if you will – isn’t what we’re training our soldiers for. The age of the long, elegant campaigns is over. Battles will be faster and more deadly now, influenced as much by events in orbit above them as by success on the ground.”

“And you think you have the answers?” asked Vincent. “Are you sure you aren’t letting your future reputation affect your judgement?”

“My future reputation?” Pitcairm raised his eyebrows. “What reputation would that be?”

His response was a dry chuckle from Alexander and a chastened look from Prince Vincent. “It would seem that I owe my father five pounds and you an apology, Colonel Pitcairn. You’re unaware that in the history of the periphery you played a major role in the Outworlds campaign and later founded one of our major military academys?”

“It hadn’t come up.” Then the corner of his mouth turned up. “So that battleship we crossed paths with really was named after a version of me. I guess that I have a lot to live up to.”

“Try not to let it go to your head, Colonel,” Vincent advised. “Many of us don’t plan to follow the paths set out in that history.”

---

Dundee, New Scotland
New Avalon, Federated Suns
17 April 2758

Ursula Liao found it somewhat ironic that her current refuge was an estate owned by Terril Davion. The septagenarian (and formally unacknowledged) cousin of the First Prince had once been a contender for the hand of Chancellor Salicia Liao. Had the marriage not foundered on a lack of ambition on the part of Terril and lack of desire by Ursula’s second cousin once-removed, neither she nor her treacherous brother would have been in the line to be Chancellor and Terril might well have ruled the Federated Suns.

Instead he was content to tend to his gardens on the northern-most continent of New Avalon and steer clear of politics. The disappearance the Varnay court-in-exile along with every other 26th century resident of Turin (now part of the Magistracy of Canopus) had cut most of his ties to the Capellan Confederation but Lord Terril remained familiar with the customs of the Capellan Court and had extended every courtesy to its Chancellor-in-Exile.

In this case he bowed deeply before entering the garden grotto where Ursula was studying reports from her former realm over a glass of strong Turkish coffee. “Good day, Lady Liao. It seems that you have some visitors.”

“Really?” She saw no one and concluded that Terril was advising her in advance, so that she prepare herself to meet them. “Might I ask who has come to call?”

Terrill nodded his head. “Why of course. Two representatives from the Magistracy of Canopus. One Yuki Bakura who has diplomatic credentials and her aide, Ning-ti Liao who I must say holds himself like a military man. A mechwarrior, unless I miss my guess.”

“A mechwarrior named Liao?”

“Quite so. My security is checking their bona fides.” Terril glanced around. “Would you like to meet them here.”

Ursula ignored the veiled reference to the fact that the hedges conveniently concealed from view a pair of her bodyguard detail who had followed her into exile. “As good a place as any,” she agreed, closing up her remote computer terminal and slipping it back into the valise that she used to transport it. “Unless of course, it would inconvenience you.”

“Oh not at all.” The lord smiled slightly. “I’m sure I can fill my time protecting my ivy from your ladies in waiting.”

The chancellor laughed lightly. Her senior attendant was mildly allergic to ivy and had been making quiet efforts to strip it from the walls around the wing of the mansion that housed Ursula’s rooms, even though there was no actual need for her to come into contact with the plant.

A few moments after Terril had taken his leave, Ursula’s aide escorted a short, silver-haired woman and a tall, lean man of more obviously asian appearance. Both seemed quite young to hold important office, but Ursula had learned that the appearance youth among those from the thirty-first century could be deceptive.

“Chancellor Liao,” the woman said and bowed her head slightly. “I am Ambassador Bakura, representing both her royal highness Magestrix Savitri Centrella of Canopus and her serene highness Duchess Ehlana Centrella of Andurien.”

Ursula hoped that the sting of the reference to Andurien, which her father had gone to such extremes to regain for the Capellan Confederation only for it to be torn away once more by the vagaries of the universe. “Ambassador,” she said in a neutral tone.

Ambassador Bakura gestured to her companion who offered a deeper bow. “And may I present to you Colonel Liao of the Magistracy Army.”

“You may indeed. I presume your name is no coincidence, Colonel?”

Ning-ti nodded. “A somewhat distant kinship via a twenty-ninth century Chancellor of the Confederation.  Effectively meaningless since 3025 of course.”

“Ah yes. The Battle of Sian and the subsequent partition of the Confederation.”

“That does rather bring us to the topic of conversation,” Bakura stated. “As you can imagine, the notion of carving up the Capellan Confederation isn’t poorly received on Atreus, Taurus or even here on New Avalon. I don’t believe that Prince Alexander has any specific plans for this, but since he’s at war with your brother...”

“And how does your Magestrix feel about this?”

“Quite frankly, the Magestrix went to great lengths eight years ago in her attempts to come to some sort of negotiated peace with the Capellan Confederation even following the atrocities that the Chancellor had ordered. She would very much prefer that the Confederation survive but of course that is rather contingent on their being willing to break away from the Star League.”

Ursula couldn’t help but laugh bitterly. “Oh I think you can count on my standing firmly against Ian Cameron’s little club but I’m not precisely in any position to execute that policy.”

“That, Madame Chancellor, is where Colonel Liao comes in.”

She raised an eyebrow. “Colonel?”

“As you might imagine there are quite a number of former CCAF soldiers resident in the Duchy of Andurien and to a lesser extent the Magistracy’s Andermax District. My own command, the Third Andermax Volunteers is almost entirely made up of such soldiers in fact. If you are willing to accept us then General McCarron had confirmed that he will permit me to lead my command and an equivalent number of volunteers equipped at Canopian expense to support your cause.”

“Two regiments of BattleMechs while valuable would not really change the strategic equation,” she pointed out.

Bakura raised one finger. “There are also a number of Capellan soldiers and spacemen serving with the SLDF who are now in Canopian or Filtvet prison camps. Her royal highness has declared herself willing to release her prisoners to your custody and is currently negotiating the same for those in the keeping of Archduchess Calderon-Davion. We are also willing to loan you the funds to purchase certain warships of the Canopian Navy Royal that are currently facing decommissioning. While not the equal of truly modern vessels, they are direct copies of pre-war Terran designs so they should compare rather well with your brother’s fleet.”

“Quite an expensive loan to make. How many ships are you talking about?” Her mind was already correlating which elements of the CCAF might be convinced to side with her if she made a suitable show of force.

Ning-ti handed over a computer disk. “The exact details are here, Madame Chancellor. But in summary, the Magestrix is offering you eight Farragut-class battleships, none of them more than six years old.”

“I... don’t know what to say.”

The colonel smiled slightly. A handsome man, Ursula admitted to herself. “I would suggest saying ‘I accept’, if it wouldn’t be too presumptious of me.”

---

Grimm Keep, Oberon VI
Oberon Confederation, Outer Reaches
7 May 2578

The medieval trappings of Grimm Keep did not prevent it from housing a completely modern command centre. From here links stretched out via HPG links to every world that answered to Oberon, links that could convey orders to any of hundreds of military or naval forces.

Hakim Wbika had seen such arrangements many times of course but the scope and scale of this were on a par with what he imagined that the larger states of the Inner Sphere utilised. The central mapping plot covered a region that stretched from Rasalhague in the Draconis Combine out to clusters hundreds of light years beyond any map he had seen before.

“The Chainelane Isles?” he asked, pointing at the map. “And the Hanseatic League? Is her majesty keeping secrets?”

“Naturally,” replied Katherine Dormax. “Although not this one. Those states existed in the thirty-first century but they haven’t been settled in this time and for some reason they weren’t brought back in time. Their location is restricted information outside of the Confederation – only the Senate Intelligence Commitee was briefed, in case the SLDF rolled over us and we needed to evacuate the leadership to a final refuge. Well, the leaders and a support structure to keep them alive in exile.”

Wbika frowned. “That would be terrible for morale.”

“Oh don’t worry. If it came to that, the support structure would be well armed and the retreating leadership would be able to take up productive roles as agricultural serfs since I doubt they’d have any other useful skills in a barebones colony.”

“I never thought that you were a closet revolutionary, Colonel. Well, not until Apollo I suppose. So what can you tell me about the defences here? I don’t have to tell you how critical the Oberon Confederation’s factories are to the war effort.”

“At the moment we have two BattleMech regiments, three tank regiments and five infantry regiments here on Oberon VI and the same on Blackstone, protecting both MechWorks facilities. What mostly worries me is the warship cover – all we have there is light pickets – armed dropships and a couple of Pinto corvettes. Most of the fleet assets we have are at Star’s End, which is far too close to the Lyrans. If they ever hit us in force we only have twenty warships and all but one of our heavy ships are restored Dart cruisers we bought from the Hegemony in the first place.”

“You’re turning into quite the naval strategist,” observed Wbika. “I thought that I was the Admiral.”

“Everyone will be thinking in terms of warships these days, sir. Let’s be honest: as far as the Star League is concerned we’re a sideshow. The Battle of Estuan had both sides committing around a hundred warships. That’s half a peacetime navy in a single conflict – more warships than the Rim Worlds had in their entire history unless you count crude armed jumpships. The time when Battlemech regiments decided the course of a war are over and done with.”

“And we don’t have many, do we?” Wbika sighed. “Out manuvered again. I must be getting old.”

Katherine frowned. “I don’t understand, sir.”

“Her Majesty Queen Charlotte is our Foreign Minister now. Any victory won for us can only be through negotiations and thus, it is she who will earn accolades from them. If she can persuade the Lyrans to make peace with us then she’ll have the Senate eating out of her hands.”

---

CCS Jade Dragon, Pirate Jump Point
Sian, Capellan Confederation
28 May 2578

The Capellan warships guarding the jump point were fully aware that the Canopians possessed Terran-design battleships so the unscheduled arrival of one was met with insistent demands for authentication and the launch of aerospace fighters. While they might have expected to see the Cameron Star or the emblem of the Magistracy upon the bow, they never expected to see instead the hand and saber of the Capellan Confederation, painted in green.

And then a second ship arrived – and a third and fourth. Even with dozens of armed dropships rushing up from the surface to reinforce the defenders, the situation plainly did not favour them.

“This is Chancellor Ursula Liao.” The transmission came as a fifth battleship jumped into the system. “I have come to remove the Terran puppet Alistair Liao from power and restore the independence of the Capellan Confederation.”

“Lady Liao,” replied Captain Wheatley of the CCS Pulverizer. “Little as I like to address you in this disrespectful fashion, you have been deposed. Alistair Liao is now the duly elected Chancellor of the Capellan Confederation.” He wasn’t particularly enthusiastic about saying that: even one of those battleships outmassed his destroyer and its divisionmate, CCS Vanquisher.

The face on video that accompanied the spoken message did not relinquish her composure. “There are three flaws in that arguement, Captain Wheatley.”

“Firstly, Chancellors are elected for life. The Prefectorate never had the authority to strip me of office. For Alistair Liao to hold the title he claims would require me to die. And since I still live, my brother is clearly both a fraud and incompetent.”

She couldn’t really be condemning her own brother for his inability to murder her, could she?

“That incompetence is the second flaw in your argument. The Capellan Confederation has benefited from years of good government and increasing prosperity. Under the illegal regieme you are endeavouring to justify, the Confederation has been dragged into a losing war while House Marik and House Davion have failed to make progress at.”

Wheatley waited for the third point but Ursula seemed content to let the moment last as a Leviathan jumpship arrived at the jump point. It appeared to be carrying at least three large dropships as well as four smaller ones. Troop transports?

“I believe you had three flaws in my argument, Lady Liao.”

“Indeed. Captain.”

It was plainly not the captain of the Pulverizer that she was addressing.

“Missiles!” A technican shouted out. “Five capital missiles incoming.”

“Prepare firing solution!” barked Wheatley, gripping the arms of his chair. With such a small salvo, it might well be that the invaders were using nuclear weapons to brush his ships aside. “Missile defense!”

Through the slit windows of his command deck there were five flashes of light, neatly spaced one second after another.

“The missiles exploded, sir!”

“Our defences?” he asked.

“No sir, they never came into engagement range.”

Wheatley turned his attention back to viewscreen to where Ursula Liao was watching him calmly. “I take it that that was your third point... Madame Chancellor.”

“Quite so.” Her smile had widened slightly at the use of the title.

“Your logic is insurmountable,” Wheatley agreed. “No doubt your admiral will have orders for me as to how your warships Pulverizer and Vanquisher are to join your formation?”

“I’m sure he will,” Ursula agreed and cut the connection.

“That went well,” Ning-ti observed from where he had been standing out of the camera’s line of sight.

She nodded. “It did. If the planetary authorities fall into line as easily then Sian will make an excellent base from which to gather forces against Alistair.”

Even with the government removed to Capella, Sian remained an important industrial world. It was also the logical command centre for the forces being amassed to invade the Magistracy of Canopus. Some of those regiments and ships might decide to fight for Alistair, but others would probably prefer to side with Ursula than be flung into a Canopian offensive as cannon fodder for the SLDF.

Even if Ursula failed to retake her throne, she’d almost certainly do enough damage that the Capellan Confederation would be functionally out of the war for months. It was the sort of war that Magestrix Centrella liked best: fought on foreign soil and with only the tiniest investment of troops and equipment on her part. A Capellan civil war was a war that Canopus could not lose.

It was up to Ning-ti to make sure that as few of his countrymen lost as possible. It didn’t occur to him that he’d slipped back to thinking of himself as being Capellan again.

---

Terra Prime, Apollo
Republic of the Outer Reaches
29 May 2578

Charlotte watched the Senate settle into their places. Of course she was technically one of them now. That had been trivially easy to arrange since the Oberon commitment to democracy was no more than paper thin. Many would vote for her simply because she was a known quantity, some would vote for her in the reasonable expectation that a district voting for her could expect a return in additional government subsidies and contracts; and if any of those had failed then there were always the ‘voting districts’ of as of yet uncolonised sections of one planet or another where she was the default landowner and could have been the sole person capable of casting a vote.

‘Rotten boroughs’ had a long and honourable tradition in democracy, or so her husband had taught her. There were some honestly elected senators but according to the reports of her Rangers they were well short of making up the majority.

“Honoured Senators,” the speaker announced. “The Foreign Minister, Senator Charlotte Grimm, has requested that today’s agenda be deferred in favour of new business. Does this have your approval?”

There was no protest, which passed for ‘agreed’ in Charlotte’s book. Normally she discussed her actions as the Foreign Minister with a select committee of Senators rather than all of them.

“Ladies and gentlemen, the Lyran Margrave Gram has agreed to withdraw his ground forces from Treeline and Persistence.” In fact except for a token presence – largely SLDF regiments - he already had done. He had other uses for those soldiers.

She let the ripple of surprise through the room before continuing. “This is not an official settlement that has the approval of Tharkad and we are not at peace, but the Margrave has been persuaded that continuing to hammer at two border worlds is not going to serve his ambitions.”

“With respect, Minister.” The senator speaking slightly emphasised that title. Ministers were answerable to the Senate, at least that was the theory of the current unstable arrangement of government. “How do we know that he won’t use those forces to attack us elsewhere.”

“I would say that that is slightly more likely than the alterative, Senator. That is why agents among his forces are reporting in regularly. In the event that the Margrave does take such an action, a substantial portion of our fleet is shadowing him. Minister Wbika assures me that it would be childishly easy to entrap him if he makes a bid to resume the attack.”

“The less likely, but potentially more rewarding choice on his part – for our Republic and for the Margrave’s ambitions – would be for him to do otherwise.”

Charlotte paused again and sure enough, someone queried her.

“What else would he do? His orders are to invade us. Doing anything else would simply have him removed by the Archon and the First Lord.”

“And if he declined to be removed?”

“That would be treason!”

“Only against the Archon. And only if he fails.” Charlotte’s smile was graphic reminder to the senators of her ancestral profession: “Remember the old saying: treason never prospers for if it does then none dare name it treason.”

Katherine Siever, a cousin of Charlotte’s former co-consul, rose to her feet. “You have no right to set foreign policy in this manner without the direction of the Senate.”

“I’m the Foreign Minister, Senator. This very Senate elected me to that position when they created it. Perhaps you could remind me of where in that process you set limits on the authority of my office?” She smiled. “Now you can, if you wish, propose that I be relieved of the position. But think how foolish it would seem for you to strip the woman who has saved the Outer Reaches from invasion of her position. You’d be a laughing stock.”

“Minister Wbika assures me that if Margrave Gram is indeed moving his forces towards the interior of the Lyran Commonwealth then it will be trivially easy to organise attacks on the basing areas where the rest of his forces – the SLDF regiments and the Archon’s loyalists – are stationed. With their supplies diverted to Gram’s positions, they will be easily disposed of and our borders will be secure. The Lyran Commonwealth will suffer a debilitating civil war, the Draconis Combine is still recovering from the invasion of their capital and no one else is close enough to matter.”

Charlotte’s expression was for once open. “Or is your complaint, Senator, not that the Republic has been saved but that it was by my hand? Because I don’t see that you have been doing anything since you were elected except feathering your nest... at least according to the Minister of the Interior’s police reports. Isn’t it fortunate that senatorial status protects you from prosecution, at least until you’re impeached.”

Other senators drew away from Siever as if she had suddenly contracted the plague.

The Queen of Oberon smiled wolfishly. “Honorable senators, I cede the floor to Minister Pierre Kosigan to discuss a petition for the impeachment of Senator Siever in light of recent evidence implicating her in the appointment of undercover LIC and H-CID agents to offices of authority within the Outer Reaches.”

If she couldn’t be Queen of all the Outer Reaches, Charlotte would settle for Minister – just as long as it was understood that she was the first amongst Ministers.

SLS Callabero, High Orbit
Canopus IV, Magistracy of Canopus
17 June 2578

Amalthia Kincaid did not consider herself to have a formidable depth of naval expertise, but she fully understood what had happened earlier. The shattering casualties amongst the aerospace wings had left the morale among their peers, and the rest of the fleet, somewhere around the level of their toes.

An army that believed that it could not win, would not win. The general saw no reason that a fleet would be any different.

“An expensive reconnaissance,” she admitted out loud, keeping her expression calm. Not unconcerned, but by no means panicked. “But now that they’ve had to show their hands, we can counter them.”

Captain Bridger was no less aware of the potential disaster that they were facing. “It’s a touch concerning that some of their warships can survive nuclear strikes, at least in the low kiloton range.”

“Quite so. The structural bracing must be formidable. I’m no engineer, but how much tonnage would you guess they devote to hull reinforcements to manage that.”

“Almost as much as the engines.” Bridger had a background in the Hegemony’s shipbuilding industries and was able to make rough calculations in his head. “They must be monitors, no jump drives. There’s no other way that they could manage to build a hull that large and the sort of monstrous engines that would be necessary to push those cruisers up to four gravities of acceleration.”

“Then this battle is going to be decided in the first few exchanges of fire. Whichever fleet can survive the most nuclear weapons wins.”

“I can’t promise that it’s us. We’ve got a lot of ships, but their ships are much more resilient.”

Kincaid nodded. “Well no one ever said that we had a safe job. All ships are to load as many tubes as possible with nuclear weapons. A lot of them won’t receive a chance to fire a second salvo so we need the first one to count.”

“Losses are likely to be heavy.” Bridger warned her.

“I know.” She looked around. “Captain, this isn’t for general circulation but this battle is our Gettysburg. If we win here then the war goes on. But if we lose... then it may be the last battle of the Star League Defense Forces.”

“There are other fleets... other Corps...”

“Not many. And you don’t need me to tell you how rocky morale has been lately. You know the old saying: victory has many fathers but defeat is an orphan? We’ve had too many defeats and no victorys to point to. Sending troops convinced that they will not – cannot – win, is a guarantee of failure. I get the impression that the First Star Lord will sue for peace unless we can find him a victory to rally the Star League behind him.”

“From everything I’ve heard, the Periphery won’t accept anything short of the disbanding of the Star League,” Bridger pointed out.

“I don’t know how accurate that is, but you could be right.” She looked at the display. “We seem to be more or less down to manuvering speeds unless I’m very much mistaken. Please advise all vessels that we shall seek action. Excepting only the escorts for the transport fleet all ships will engage the enemy.”

---

The SLDF ships moved forwards and the Canopians reformed to meet them – their smaller but far more numerous vessels readying themselves for the slaughter ahead.

On both sides firing plans were readied and courage mustered. This was no sternly scientific battlefield – it was going to be a crude battering match.

In the end the only question was which would fire as they closed in, each waiting for the chance to get their shot off with the greatest possible accuracy, pitting that desire against the urgency that if they waited too long... they might not have the chance to fire at all.

In the event they both did.

On the surface of Canopus Savitri Centrella watched with stony eyes as ships blew apart. The SLN’s Quixotes were badly out-numbered but each could bring at least six missile tubes to bear, while the Melchiors could only manage one and lacked even the simple arrays of lasers that served the Quixotes for missile defence.

Fortunately for the crews, each Melchior had a single lifeboat and no sooner had they fired their first Santa Ana nuclear missile than the boats were launched. Most made it, racing desperately back for Canopus IV. Behind them hundreds of defense platforms had been destroyed, but the veritable constellation of their remains was coming into contact with the debris from scores of frigates torn into millions of pieces by their counter-salvo.

The sheer mass of fragments left radar virtually useless and the survivors on both sides clawed their way through collision after collision, seeking their remaining enemies. Coordination was impossible.

Here the Canopus-class dreadnoughts and Porcupine-class battlecruisers had the advantage with thick layers of armour and powerful engines to force their way through. But now the numbers favoured the Star League. HMS Adam Buquoy tore three of the Star League’s Lola-class destroyers apart but they had been covering the damaged SLS Zorro which managed to turn around and bring its bow tubes to bear, firing its last missiles into the battered dreadnought.

Savitri’s preferred flagship, the battlecruiser HMS Concubine, managed to smash through the remaining fighter screen of SLS Callabero to bring its lasers to bear at point blank range. With no remaining nuclear weapons in its magazines, Kincaid’s flagship fired back with conventional missiles. Briefly they exchanged fire before the frigate broke in half under the weapons fire and the battlecruiser drifted, engines disabled by multiple missile impacts. The crew took to their lifeboats, scuttling charges firing as they made their way towards the surface.

For a full day small actions flared up as in ones and twos the ships died. Savitri Centrella drank navy coffee and watched with eyes increasingly hollow. Amalthia Kincaid’s corpse drifted along with the uncountable tons of wreckage making its slow way in the direction of Canopus IV’s smokey atmosphere.

As numbers dwindled, one thing became clear: the Canopian Navy’s defence fleet was no longer enough to overpower the remaining escorts.

“Pull our ships back to cover the shipyards,” the Magestrix ordered. “The Star League doesn’t have the ships left to batter through to destroy them and to guard their transports.” Savitri looked at the wrecks and then shook her head. “They’ve won this round, but the battle will continue.” She reached out into the hologram and touched the representation of Canopus IV.

“The next battle will be fought here.”

---

Astarte, Salonika
Canopus IV, Magistracy of Canopus
20 June 2578

The two hovercraft cruising across the wrecked remains of a long-abandoned strip-mine were infantry carriers – half of the fourth recon lance out of six that made up a small part the 112th (Striker) Regiment of the SLDF. The pair of LVT-4 hovertanks that formed other half of the lance, the ‘shooters’, were chasing up a possible contact a couple of kilometres away.

“It’s too quiet,” Sergeant Miracle Ilaes muttered from the cupola of the hover tank where she was scanning the surroundings with binoculars. “The Canopians have to have some sort of recon screen out, so where is it?”

“Hopefully giving some other bugger some trouble,” replied her driver. David Vaaraniemi was from the Terra itself, while Miracle had been born on Sierra – a frontier world almost as far removed from Canopus IV as it was from Terra.

The sergeant shook her head. “Astarte’s the third most important city on Canopus – probably one of the ten largest cities in the entire Magistracy. They can’t possibly have abandoned it, so there should at least be some -” A fast moving shape darting out from the cover of a mound of spoil answered her question. “Evasive!”

Dirt exploded behind the hovercraft and there was a shout of surprise from the infantry bay as David gunned the engines. The cause of the explosion – a Locust light Battlemech – broke into a sprint towards them.

Miracle tried to keep her binoculars on the ‘Mech. Although she’d identified the ‘Mech from its slim birdlike legs and block torso, there were several clear differences from the LCT-1V models she knew from the 112th. “It’s a Locust, 1E model!” she shouted. That meant rather than one medium laser and a pair of machine guns that it would sport four lasers: two medium and two small. Not as good against infantry but with notably more punch against vehicles such as the two APCs – the second vehicle, commanded by Corporal Sevket was wallowing in their wake.

She flicked a switch, setting her radio to transmit on the platoon frequency. “Lieutenant Halder, this is Sergeant Ilaes. We’ve encountered a lone Canopian Locust and are under fire.

The two arm-mounted lasers on the Locust turned and then the rear of Sevket’s APC blew open, spilling men and equipment across the ground at fatally high speeds. The forward half of the luckless hovertank sagged and one corner dug into the ground, causing the rest to cartwheel wildly before landing upside down.

The Locust raced through the debris, apparently unconcerned that in so doing it squashed two SLDF soldiers flat under one foot. Then again, in all probability neither was still alive anyway.

“Can’t you go any faster!” Miracle shouted. “It’s still in range.”

David’s voice sounded aggrieved: “We’re doing a hundred and fifty!”

Miracle looked back. Offhand the Locust, one of the fastest Battlemechs ever developed, topped out at one hundred twenty-nine kilometres an hour under optimum conditions. Nonetheless it seemed to be managing to not only keep up but also gain ground.

There was a crackle over the radio. “Lead it our way,” Lieutenant Halder ordered. “We’re hull down just behind ridge four-oh-seven.”

“I’ve got an idea!”

Miracle looked back into the infantry bay and to her shock saw daylight: the rear hatch had been opened. Then there came the distinctive thump of James Hooker’s grenade launcher. The squad’s heavy-weapons trooper pumped another high explosive grenade towards the Locust.

Explosions of earth either side of the APC testified to the difficulty of hitting a target that was moving as fast as the hovercraft, but the Locust was only a hundred metres behind. Hooker’s third grenade scored a hit on the cockpit, visibly scarring the thick canopy. In response the two chin lasers spoke sharply with long, stuttering pulses. The APC lurched and slowed, a near collision averted only when the Locust jerked sharply aside and ran past. Miracle hardly noticed, instead focused on the screams from inside the infantry bay and the splatter of what was obviously blood against the legs of her battledress utilities.

“Get us ouf of here!” she screamed and ducked into infantry bay, gripping handholds as she moved to prevent the less than smooth movements of the hovercraft from sending her crashing around like a pinball. As it she was glad of her helmet when one particular sharp turn at a bad moment bounced her head off the edge of the cupola.

Hooker was on the deck of the bay, and also on three of the walls. He’d taken the brunt of the laser pulses. The grenadier’s loader, Ramirez – another Sierran – was also beyond help. Shards of the rear hatch were buried in his chest and his eyes glazed by death. The screams were coming from Derek Shannon, left leg a mangled wreck.

“Pass the medical kit!” demanded Jane Jericho, who had removed part of her field webbing and was improvising a tourniquet out of the one of the straps.

Although technically in command, Miracle obeyed the instruction, yanking open the box for her subordinate before looking over at the last of the six people in her squad (there should have been seven but the 112th was short-staffed and her squad short-handed.

Private Marion Emiya was lying half-on one of the side benches, face pale. One combat boot was trapped in the tangled remains of the rear of the tank. She managed a wan smile as Miracle looked her over. “Only hurts when I try to get my foot free, Sarge.”

From the look of the tangle, Marion would be lucky to get her ankle out, much less her foot, but Miracle decided not to dishearten her. “Give me a moment.”

Outside the door she could see the ground moving past at a frightening speed. She also couldn’t see the Locust. “Vaaraniemi, did you lose him?”

“I don’t know. I’ve lost visual. We’re thirty seconds from the rest of the lance.”

“We have multiple wounded.”

“Understood, sergeant. I’ll get us back to the nearest medical post as soon as I can.”

Miracle tried not to think too much about the fact that just because David had lost track of the Locust didn’t mean that the ‘Mech had lost track of them. Instead she opened up the toolbox and started looking through it to find something that she could use to pry Marion’s foot out of the wreckage.

Halder’s voice came from her helmet radio. “Just get home, Sergeant. We’ll deal with the ‘Mech.”

“Watch yourself, its damn fast,” she warned.

“So are we!” she heard Halder say, the roar of hovercraft engines clearly audible through his own microphone. “There he is!”

The APC jerked sharply to one side.

“He’s on us!” shouted David. “Hold on! I’m -”

There was a crunch and Miracle was flung bodily across the infantry bay, colliding with Jane. Both women landed on Derek Shannon, who resumed his screaming. The back of the hovercraft tilted upwards and then slammed back down, bouncing the squad around like pinballs as the APC came to rest.

Groaning, and with the suspicion that she one of her ribs might have been broken, Miracle crawled out of the bay and was unsurprised to see a Locust looking down at her, the underslung pulse lasers moving to track her. It was only on her second glance that she saw that this one lacked the scarred canopy from Hooker’s grenade.

“Lieutenant,” she mumbled into her radio. “There are two of them. Two Locusts.”

There was no reply and Miracle rolled painfully to her knees, raising both hands above her head in surrender.

---

Crimson, Salonika
Canopus IV, Magistracy of Canopus
22 June 2578

When the SLDF forces moved for the capital, they did so with the ponderous power of an avalanche. Battlemechs and tanks flooded over hills stripped barren by generations of exploitation, quite incidentally destroying the sparse trees and grass that ecologists had laid down to attempt the beginnings of recovery.

The Thirty-First Division was in the lead, its single regiment of BattleMechs acting as a reserve for the brigades of tanks and mechanised infantry that fanned out ahead of the advance. Their objective was to find the defences so that the BattleMechs could force a breach.

At that point, the Thirty-Second Division, packed up behind them, would exploit the breach with a spearhead of a consolidated BattleMech brigade and two supporting brigades built around Gallant and Turhan urban tanks to handle the no doubt fierce streetfighting as they bulled through the city to seize the Crystal Palace and with it, the Magistracy.

With their intentions clear, the Magistracy’s defenders rushed to position themselves in the defence of their capital. Until now the three divisions of the Royal Guards had been scattered to protect each of the three principal cities. Until the Canopian Highlanders could arrive from Astarte or the Cuirassiers from Delphi, that rested the defences of Crimson upon the soldiers of Raventhir’s Iron Hand and of the Thirteenth Militia Brigade.

James Raventhir, scion of the Canopian’s most famous military dynasty, had been entrusted with one of the massive Khan BattleMechs that had only begun to arrive from factories safely in the Trznadel Cluster. Ten tons heavier than any other design used by the MAF’s battlemech forces (in fact, tonnage equal to that of their ‘Corn series battle tanks), the Khan was a battlefield juggernaut but the line it was reinforcing was all too slim.

The young man tried to focus on the voice of Colonel Leona Patrice via the network of landlines that engineers had laid across the lines that the Iron Hand would be defending, and to ignore the sweat that was staining his hands as they gripped the controls.

“We have enemy units idenfitied at a range of only two thousand metres.” The colonel’s voice was cool and unaffected.  “We get one chance at a first salvo, don’t anyone waste it.”

James looked again at the ground ahead of him. His Khan was crouched behind the military crest of the hill, entirely masked until it stood tall and took a few steps to shoot down over the hill and into narrowing valley that the highway to Crimson followed. It was an obvious firing position, but fighters from the militia fighter regiment as well as the remaining naval aerospace squadrons were contesting the clouded sky fiercely so the SLDF could not be sure. No doubt, they moment that they did learn of it, orbital fire would be called for.

Colonel Patrice’s plan therefore called for a more mobile battle, hopefully stalling the enemy vanguard until reinforcements from the Royal Guards could arrive. First Battalion, along with the battle tanks of the Iron Hand’s heavy brigade and the milita artillery would strike from the western hills and Third Battalion, along with the rest of the militia and the light brigade would charge from the eastern hills.

If they failed, then all that stood between the SLDF and Crimson was the Thetis River with its broken bridges and Second Battalion to hopefully break up any crossing.

James looked left and then right. The rest of his lance – a pair of Marauders and a Striker – were lined up to his left. He knew Cole and Avellar (no relation to the Great House of the same name) were both veterans but Lucrezia Shihuin was just out of the Quatre. To his right were the rest of H Company, with Commander Marthe Sloan’s lance of four Balam looking very similar to their Marauder progenitors. Beyond them were the scout lance, mixing Stinger and Phoenix Hawks.

“All green, Lucky?” he asked the novice mechwarrior, surprised his voice wasn’t shaking. When she affirmed readiness James enquired the same of the rest of his lance before switching up to the company net. “Commander Sloan, my lance is fully ready.”

“Good to know, Ensign. And your lance, Jeraldine?”

James rolled his eyes. Sloane probably hadn’t even checked her own lance. She and Ensign Jeraldine St Clair were old hands, with plenty of experience, but they were also not notable for spit and polish. While that wasn’t the be all and end all, it did mean that they occasionally came off as sloppy which was why neither was likely to rise above company command.

What was in their favour was that they were good combat officers. The Royal Guards might parade more often than most of the Magistracy Army, but that wasn’t their first duty.

And at least thinking about that had taken his mind off the coming action.

“Range to marker one-twenty is now seven hundred metres,” advised an anonymous voice, followed by Colonel Patrice: “All units, advance and open fire!”

James brought the Khan upright in the same movement that started it walking up above the line of the hill. He felt the ‘Mech adjusting itself as the neurohelmet took directions from his inner ear, forestalling the possibility of overbalancing. Between that and keeping an eye on his lance it was not until the assault ‘Mech was standing fully exposed that he really took in the SLDF forces ranged ahead of him.

There were dozens of them, many armoured personnel carriers and scout cars forming the recon screen of the oncoming division. Coldly, James brought his crosshairs across a platoon of wheeled personnel carriers. As the crosshairs flashed gold over each, he triggered one extended-range particle cannon and then moved to the next target, firing all four of his weapons in turn. Two shots, the first and third, hit home and the small infantry carriers came to a halt, their guts – and occupants – torn apart by the powerful weapons. Now he was sweating for reasons other than nerves.

“Good shooting, Raven’.”

James turned and saw that the rest of his lance had let him fire first. That was smart – their PPCs were older, shorter range weapons with no more reach than the autocannons that each of the three BattleMechs sported. Waiting not only let them take their cue from him, it brought the advancing SLDF forces into their own range.

Only one of their PPCs hit home, with Avellar tearing a strip of armour from a hovertank without slowing the machine. Cole turned her autocannon towards the other Marauder pilot’s target and both fired cluster rounds, as if taking offense at the insult of the tank surviving the hit. One of the shots – impossible to tell which – ripped several gaping holes in the side-skirt of the hovertank, sending it slewing into a spin until it came to rest. The crew, probably quite dizzy, did not disembark immediately.

“Take that tank’s turret out, Lucky,” James ordered, implicitly warning the two Marauder jocks to let the newbie take the shot. He moved his crosshairs and fired his PPCs again, this time slamming all four shots towards the same target, a helicopter trying to dart up over the hill to find out what else was lurking there. Unfortunately none of the shots struck.

In the distance James saw the distant dust-clouds marking advancing Merkava and Marsden tanks suddenly gain animation as artillery shells and missiles began to pound their path. The Magistracy Army allocated each brigade a full artillery battalion and Colonel Patrice was making full use of having effectively a regiment of self-propelled artillery at her disposal.

Hig above the battle, contrails and explosions marked where the battle for the sky was raging.

---

A squadron of Tomahawk aerospace fighters were chasing down their own number of Tseen She. The Canopian strike fighters weren’t tough enough to take that sort of pounding and two of them came apart almost immediately under the lasers of the SLDF fighters.

Savitri Centrella didn’t like seeing her pilots cut out of the sky. In fact she took it very much personally. Fortunately she was in a position to do something about it and with a terse order to the squadron supporting her, she yanked back on her control stick and jammed the throttle of her new Grondr wide open.

The Magestrix had traded in her Lightning for the newer design as soon as it became available. It was bigger, faster and more heavily armed than anything she’d ever flown. And except for the squadron following her, almost all of them had been destroyed in the last few days. Fortunately the factories were a safe distance away and more would be coming.

Centring her crosshairs over a Tomahawk, Savitri triggered her missile launchers. There were three of them, and all had managed to lock onto the medium fighter so forty-five fire-and-forget missiles leapt from the racks and smashed into the underside of the smaller fighter. Then a second volley, this one from Savitri’s wingman did the same. The Tomahawk, trailing smoke, broke off and the Magestrix let it go, blasting up past the altitude of the SLDF fighter’s wingman and then cutting thrust briefly, kicking the rudder to make a controlled tumble as she did in order to bring herself around to drop down upon the other Tomahawk.

This one managed to twist aside and avoid missile lock from Savitri’s wingman but the Magestrix was another matter, stripping almost half a ton of armour off one wing with her lasers and then slamming another volley of missiles into it. Explosions tore through the left flank of the Tomahawk and it went into a spiralling descent, the pilot ejecting when it became clear that there was no saving the machine.

Glancing around the radar Savitri saw no other nearby threats to the Tseen She squadron and plunged her Grondr down towards the deck, the other fighters following her like a flock of birds. “Blackwing to squadron: damage?” she enquired.

“None.”

“None.”

“Light armour damage. One missile launcher out.”

“None.”

“None.”

She nodded her head slightly inside the cockpit and debated for a second whether to send the damaged Grondr back to Crimson for repairs. No, she decided. Never give an order that won’t be obeyed: none of her squadron would retreat unless she personally did so as well. “Fine. Stay with me, we’re going to give the Tseen She cover.

The five surviving conventional fighters had regrouped and were returning to their mission. Within moments each of the militia fighters had an escorting aerospace fighter, Savitri and her wingman doubling up to cover one of them.

Beneath the fighters, SLDF forces were battering at Raventhir’s Iron Hand. The defenders had already thrown in their reserves to counter the Thirty-First Division’s BattleMechs and they were holding, for now. The five Tseen She dove across the lines of an SLDF ‘Mech company, strafing the ranks with their lasers. Behind them, the Grondr – less suited to this tactic – focused instead on the helicopters that had been scouting for the little force. Neither stood any chance at all against the sudden volleys of missiles that swatted them easily out of the sky.

As they flew past, Savitri could see that only one of the SLDF ‘Mechs had fallen, but all bore scarred armour from the attacks, They’d be weaker and more vulnerable when they encountered Canopian forces, which was good enough for now.

The attack had not been without its price for the aircraft however. Laser fire from Helepolis and Kyudo ‘Mechs had slashed deeply into the Tseen She, two of which were trailing ominous smoke.

“This is Blackwing to the militia fighters,” the Magestrix ordered, knowing that the militia would have recognised the solid black paint that covered the left wing of her Grondr. While her squadron all adopted the same paintjob in an attempt to mask her precise location, everyone in the CNR knew that the Magestrix had flown with those markings since the Battle of Borgan’s Rift. Some said it was in mourning for the Canopians killed under her command, while others identified it as a kill marker for the Death Commandos who died when the Magestrix’s wings targeted their dropships with nuclear warheads. “Break off for repairs, we’ll escort you back.”

The ‘air-breathers’ obediently scurried back in the direction of their support forces with a quiet: “Many thanks, Blackwing.” Rather than operating out of a fixed air-field that would be a relatively easy target for orbital bombardment the militia were instead using their craft’s VTOL capacity to hide the fighters in relatively small paved areas of Crimson, repairs carried out by the same convoys that refuelled and reloaded them.

For now the aerospace fighters, with their far more demanding logistics were using the underground defense hangers. Savitri was aware that it was a luxury that could not last: sooner or later the SLDF would locate all of the entrances. The two that had been discovered so far had been subjected to orbital bombardments that had effectively closed them for use, in one case with a mixed squadron of Reivers and Thunderbirds inside. Those fighters were as much out of the fight as if they had been destroyed: it would take days to dig them out and any attempt would be painfully obvious.

---

Crimson, Salonika
Canopus IV, Magistracy of Canopus
23 June 2578

James drained the last dregs from the bottled energy drink. The liquid was the first refreshment he’d had in hours. Despite the arrival of the Cuirassiers and the Highlanders on the SLDF’s flanks they were continuing to advance and the battered Iron Hand regiments were having trouble even slowing them down, much less stopping them.

At midnight the Mechs and tanks of the Thirty-First Division had paused, clearly exhausted. However, they had done so not only to rest but also to let the relatively fresh Thirty-Second Division through their ranks.

More then three hundred battlemechs was more – far more -  than the weary Raventhir’s Iron Hand could stop, especially since their artillery – ammunition expended – had been in mid-retreat to a supply point.

“Army Command, this is Captain Raventhir,” he reported. “I have a mixed battlegroup south of Hill Seventy-Five. Can you give me a vector back to the rest of the regiment.”

For a long moment there was nothing but the snap and hiss of static.

Finally: “Captain Raventhir, can you confirm that you are at Hill Seventy-Five, not Seventeen-Five?”

James’s face reddened. Seventeen-Five was a hill more or less between Crimson and the bridges over the Thetis River – probably where the rest of the defense forces were rallying. Seventy-Five was considerably to the east. Faced with a full battalion of Star League Banshee, Thunderbolts and Guillotines, he’d broken contact to rally the remnants of his force: less than a company of survivors from Third Battalion, together with fewer than twenty Pegasus hovertanks from the militia and a company of Minotaur medium tanks from one of the Iron Hand tank regiments.

“Yes,” he confirmed tightly. “Seven-Five.”

“Wait one, Captain.”

Infuriated at the implied slight: that he had run away from the fight, rather than rejoining the next defense line, James closed his microphone and swore out loud.

“James,” a different voice said over the channel. A woman, voice familiar to him. Familiar to essentially any Canopian.

He switched the microphone on. “Yes, Magestrix.”

“Glad you’re holding on, cousin,” she said warmly. “Even more so that you’re right where I need someone. I have a mission for you.”

“Your highness, I’ll do what I can but my troops are short of ammo and rest.”

He could imagine her nodding. “Understood. We’re going to try to send you ammo, but rest will have to wait. The Star League has built a pontoon bridge across the Thetis to move their tanks and supporting equipment over the river.”

“You want me to destroy it?” Why not an air strike, he wondered.

“Nothing so easy. The Cuirassiers and the Highlanders can ford the river with their ‘Mechs but most of their infantry and tanks will need a bridge and we demolished the others trying to slow the SLDF down. I need those forces to finish the SLDF before they can reach the centre of Crimson. I need that bridge intact.”

“Sir, one ortillery shot...”

“I’m ordering our warships to give you cover. It won’t last long but hopefully long enough.” Unspoken was that the remaining warships would be badly outnumbered.

---

In the end an airdrop wasn’t possible but a handful of hovertrucks raced out from a nearby militia depot, carrying pallets of long and short range missiles. What little autocannon ammunition remained would need to be husbanded carefully.

The only other survivor of James’ lance ran behind him as the force ran down the road towards the location of the bridge. Lucrezia ‘Lucky’ Shihuin had lived up to her nickname. The Striker’s autocannon was out of action but she still had her lasers and PPC. Even more fortunately she’d forgotten to dump her ammunition bin so their half-empty contents had been loaded quickly into the magazines of the other Striker and the force’s one Marauder.

“All units,” James reminded them. “We have to take the bridge intact – so when we charge feel free to shout about destroying the bridge on your loudspeakers. Maybe they’ll be gullible enough to ‘protect’ it from us.”

He looked around one last time. They were ready. “Alright, let’s do this.” The force took their speed from him but that was only really holding back the Pegasus hovertanks and they would be unleashed soon enough. That didn’t mean that he was delaying and the force that was spread out in a loose wedge behind his Khan were moving at more than fifty kilometres an hour when they crested the hill above the bridge.

“Cavalry!” James shouted, distantly noting contrails in the sky above him: “Charge!”

Seventeen Pegasus hovertanks roared past him, aiming for the riverbank: their mission was to take control of the opposite bank. The near bank and the scratch battalion that must be all that was left of Thirty-First Division’s BattleMech forces, were James’ problem to deal with.

---

Miles behind him, tens of thousands of Canopian citizens filed through their local police stations and other official buildings accepting laser rifles, spare power packs and the armband that – in theory – made them uniformed combatants under the Ares Conventions. They too could see the contrails rising.

In theory all Canopians did military service in their teens but most provided their national service in non-combatant roles. Basic self-defense, which in the periphery included the use of a rifle, was universal however. There had been no official recall: just an announcement that volunteers would be welcomed.

The Support Corps personnel handing out the weapons tried not to think too hard about the results of the SLDF’s vengeful troopers fighting their way deep enough into Crimson that armed civilians were needed.

---

The contrails were the remaining Canopian aerospace squadrons making for the orbitals. Savitri and the other three surviving Blackwings were near the middle of the little formation, their Grondr straining to reach escape velocity, burdened as each they were with a pair of five kiloton nuclear weapons.

---

Unity City, North America
Terra, Terran Hegemony
24 June 2578

Air defences were alerted as soon as the first radar signatures indicating that wings of aerospace fighters were making their descent upon the Pacific North-west.

Ground stations hurled missiles upwards while discreet turrets around the Court of the Star League brought autocannon up to cover the skies and lances of the garrison sallied forth from their underground hangers to provide a last layer of defence: Rifleman and Archer BattleMechs. While fire blazed filled the sky, Nicholas Cameron marched his lance to cover the seaward approaches: reports from the radar stations suggested that the formations of fighters were descending over the Pacific and would presumably be making a low approach on the Court from that direction.

“How many are coming in at us, sir?” asked Sergeant Hernandez, correctly presuming that Nicholas would be well informed.

The young Cameron ran his targeting systems across the horizon. “Depends how many the fixed defences bring down. The estimate was five aero-regiments – perhaps three hundred – entering the atmosphere. Our own fighters will need as much support as we can give them.” He didn’t bother to point out that there were only a battalion of BattleMechs to protect the Court of the Star League. A conflict between aerospace fighters and a ground fortress was always unpredictable.

A crackle of jamming interrupted the tactical net for a moment. A few moments later, the familiar voice of the defense co-ordinator came across. “Our communications may lapse, soldiers. Enemy fighters have been engaged well short of the shore but it’s estimated that there may be as many as eighty enemy fighters operating below the level of radar coverage. Be on guard.”

“Eighty!?” Hernandez exclaimed. “Well it’s better than three hundred!”

“Don’t think of it as eighty hostiles, think of it as eighty targets,” suggested Nicholas with dark humour. He opened the covers on his Archer’s missile launchers, glad of the advanced heatsinks that the ‘Mechs of the defense battalion had been refitted with. Where most battlemechs of this class would occasionally need to cut back their rate of fire to cool down, the SLDF’s new models could sustain their full firepower as long as their ammunition lasted. Of course that would mean that they would run through that ammunition faster. “Defence command, this is Franklin Lead. Please advise as to the nearest resupply point.”

“Understood Franklin Lead. There are crews mov- ... –hatch four-t ... alpha ...”

Nicholas tapped his helmet. “Come back, Defence Command?”

There was no reply but the whine and spit of static. Jamming again! He switched to use his loudspeakers. “Someone’s close enough to jam our radios. Report any sightings immediately.”

There were similar shouts from other officers resorting to the same means and Nicholas brought his Archer down behind one of the sturdily built buildings above the beaches, not caring that one foot crushed the rear of a car that had been left parked there.

A call went up and he looked to see a Rifleman bringing its arms up to point out to sea. Tracers rippled outwards and following them Nicholas saw the enemy.

They were low enough that their wake was visible in the water.

Lightning lashed back from the oncoming fighters towards the shoreline and the Rifleman reeled backwards, armour erupting away from the heavy BattleMech’s chest.

Nicholas locked his crosshairs over one of the oncoming fighters and fired everything. The lasers in each arm of his Archer lashed out and he thought he saw parts of the fuselage deforming under hits. Then all forty of the long range missiles from his salvo rushed past his sight picture and enough hit that he briefly lost visual contact before the fighter continued, clearly damaged but undeterred.

“They’re going to overshoot!” he called out, turning his Archer around. “Catch them on the way out!”

Then on the compressed display that ran along the top of his cockpit HUD – a three hundred and sixty degree view compressed into only one hundred and sixty – he saw the fighter and it’s brethren appear to come apart in mid-air. Engine pods cut out and then dropped down, almost like... legs? Was this intentional?

All doubt fell away as the engines roared to life again and the fighters came almost to a complete stop, their distorted – almost vulture-like – shapes descending over the beach. And the defenders, having turned around in expectation of firing at the vulnerable rear of the the aerospace fighters had instead exposed their own backs to the enemy.

Outnumbered two to one, with the Land-Air Mechs of the Filtvet Commonwealth Marine Corps concentrating on the notoriously thin-armoured Rifleman, the defense battalion lost a dozen casualties in as many seconds.

“Fallback into the city!” ordered Major Siembieda a moment before his ammunition, stored against his Rifleman’s reactor, detonated – spreading parts of both ‘Mech and Major across the beach.

Nicholas turned his Archer to follow the order but Hernandez’s ‘Mech thrust out one arm, pushing him in another direction. “Not that way sir. You’re heading for the supply point – hatch four-two alpha. It’s the fastest way to get you under cover.”

“Goddamn you Hernandez, I’m an officer of the SLDF!”

“No sir. You’re the Director-General’s heir and there isn’t a man here who doesn’t have orders for what to do if the fight went against us today.”

---

Crimson, Salonika
Canopus IV, Magistracy of Canopus
24 June 2578

The particle cannon punched through the damaged SLDF Kyudo’s fusion reactor dead centre. A moment later silver fire engulfed the ‘Mech and James backed his Khan up another pace, turning his head to look for another target.

The PPC in his ‘Mech’s right arm was its only remaining weapon and the armour beneath the many rents in his armour was stained with the coolant fluid that had leaked out like blood. A Warhammer drew his attention to it by blasting the last armour covering the weapon with its own PPCs.

Much to James’ surprise the weapon status remained green and he fired a second time. The shot shattered the smaller ‘Mech’s right shoulder, dropping the arm below to the ground as well as melting half the missile launcher that rose up from the joint.

Without hesitating, the Warhammer raised its other arm, pointing the muzzle of the Donal PPC directly at the scarred faceplate covering James’ cockpit.

The young Raventhir started in squarely into the darkness inside, wondering if he was imagining the glow. I guess it’s my turn now, he thought.

Then more than ninety tons of aerospace fighter hit the Warhammer like a bulldozer. The blunt wedge cut the heavy ‘Mech virtually in two and then whatever dregs of fuel remained within the Grondr’s tanks exploded. James watched numbly as one black wing spun up into the sky and then crashed down to the torn up ground beside him.

Only then did he look up and see the parachute unfurling in the sky above him and off to his right. The pilot must have ejected after setting up a collision course he realised.

A series of explosions ripped through the SLDF forces and James glanced around to see a lance of Bicorns crawling over the bridge, which was rocking alarmingly from the recoil as the main guns hurled two hundred kilogram shells up the slope. Behind them, he could see more heavy tanks lining up to risk the pontoons: the heavy tank regiments had arrived at last. A second bridge - this one of cannon shells, gauss rifle slugs and the heavy missiles being fired across the river. They weren’t hitting much – the range was too long for accurate fire – but they were an eloquent promise of what the SLDF could expect once they had crossed.

The disintegtration of a Merkava that was unfortunate enough to be caught between the impact of two of the cutdown artillery shells being thrown by the Bicorns apparently wasn’t a hint to back off. Then again, it was also showing them what they were trying to keep from crossing the river so it wasn’t too surprising that instead they pressed forwards in a desperate attempt to break down the bridge.

James estimated the point where the ejected pilot would land and moved forward to shield them from the attack. His little force was perhaps half the size that it had been and few of the survivors were in better shape than his Khan. His PPC tore the arm off a Phoenix Hawk and he slammed into the smaller ‘Mech a moment later, the impact sending it to the ground. Without pause James trampled over it, driving one foot directly through its shoulder to destroy its remaining arm.

He had misjudged slightly the point to which the parachute was descending – perhaps the wind had moved. The pilot landed briefly upon the arm of his Khan, then slipped off, her parachute flaring slightly, slowing the landing to a survivable one.

Behind him the Bicorns were rumbling off the bridge – pockmarked with damage as it was the SLDF had built it well enough to handle their weight – too well for their own good.

James crouched the Khan over the pilot. “Are you hurt?” he asked over his loudspeakers.

The woman stretched out each limb in turn, then shook her helmeted head and glanced around. She adjusted her helmet.

“Don’t tell me that it is you, James Raventhir?” she asked, her voice coming from his radio. “Really, I half-expected you to be dead by now.”

“I’m sorry to disappoint you, your highness.”

“Oh, don’t confuse expectations with desires. I’m rather afraid most of those who’ve fought with me today have not been so fortunate.” There was a darkness in the voice of Savitri Centrella. “I guess you must be a bad penny, just like me.”

“And above us?”

“Don’t concern yourself. The worst you need concern yourself with is the chance that fragments of their ships may land on our heads.” She looked around. “Please let me into your cockpit, I need to use your radio to get in touch with my Command Center.”

James lowered one arm, opening the manipulator so that she could stand upon in. From the stiffness of Savitri’s movements he guessed that her earlier assertion that she was uninjured had been overly optimistic – if nothing else she must have taken quite a bruising during her ejection. Even so, when he raised the manipulator up to his cockpit she scrambled easily enough in behind him.

Not a mechwarrior, it took a moment for the Magestrix to unfold the jumpseat behind James’ command couch and locate the headset. Then she adjusted the communications panel. “General Tellaverde. This is Magestrix Savitri Centrella. Authenticate my voice print.”

There was a brief pause. “I’m ready to do so.”

“Power is a drug. Its addiction is the cause of all evils.”

James heard relief in the voice of the commander of the Royal Guards. “There was concern that you might have...”

“Too many have already. It’s possible that I’m the only survivor of the entire battle above us. What is the situation down here?”

“The Highlanders and Cuirassiers are squeezing them like toothpaste, your highness. But that’s pressing them against the Iron Hand and that’s...”

“Yes. It’s possible to ask too much. But we have one more strategm to try: it’s drastic and radical but let’s try talking to them. Can you retransmit my signal on all channels?”

“Of course. You might even think that we’re in the media capital of known space. We’ll have you going out to everyone in two minutes.”

Savitri’s smile spread at the joke. “Then let’s do so. Because I have something to say.”

“What are you going to tell them?” James asked.

“Well... I thought I’d start with the truth. It has a certain novelty.”

---

“Soldiers of the Star League.”

“You are surrounded on all sides.”

“On this scarred ground stand the armies and the militia of Canopus.”

“Above you, the skies have been scoured of your comrades.

“Beneath your very feet the rich world of Canopus rejects your presence.”

“And in the hearts of mankind your cause stands ruined for as we speak the fleets and legions of the periphery have brought our rejection to Terra itself.”

“In recognition of your defeat, I, Savitri Centralla: pilot, mother, leader, offer you this day the chance to surrender with honour. To return to your homes without further sacrifice. To lower your weapons and march from Canopus beneath your own banners as proud soldiers who have accomplished all that could possibly have been done in the impossible quest that you were sent out upon.”

“But if you feel that you cannot or will not accept it then I shall remind you of wisdom six hundred and seventy seven years old:”
“That the Woman that God gave him
Every fibre of her frame
Proves her launched for one sole issue
Armed and engine for the same
And to serve that sole issue
Lest the generations fail
The female of the species
Must be deadlier than the male”

---

Unity City, North America
Terra, Terran Hegemony
24 June 2578

“Look at my city, in flames.” Ian Cameron’s face was hollow as he watched the view from the surviving cameras above. Never in his worst nightmares had he expected to see SLDF Archers being brought down by Periphery Battlemechs on the streets of Unity City.

A general touched his shoulder. “Sir, we have reports that your son is back under cover. I recommend he be sent to the escape submarine. We can have you all at the Bering Tunnel in twenty-four hours and in Geneva the day after.”

Ian hesitated and then nodded. “Agreed. Shandra...”

“Don’t even think about some kind of noble gesture,” she warned him. “The Hegemony needs your leadership.”

After I’ve done so well by them? Ian thought darkly but instead he nodded his head. “I need a few things from my personal safe. I suggest that you collect anything you want to bring with you.”

---

The hatch moved slowly due to damage done to the frame, but Ian Cameron was able to force it open with his shoulder. He was aware that it would be only moments before his security caught up with him – Shandra would have realised by now that he was not in his own room within the deep bunker complex, nor on his way to the escape submarine waiting in its dock to carry him away under the Pacific.

According to his recollection, the hatch should have opened into the backwall of one of the many public conveniences that discreetly dotted the ornamental gardens. Like most such buildings the windows were small and high on the wall, but daylight flooded across him as he exited. The western half of the room was simply gone and the First Lord of the Star League looked out at the panoramic ruin that he’d intended to be the capital city of the entire human race.

Surprisingly few of the buildings were in flames, but other than the damage caused by the brief battle between the periphery landing force most of the destruction had been systematic as the ‘flying battlemechs’ that had landed were deliberately smashing down buildings with their fists. Ian still didn’t know what to call the machines. What sort of twisted mind would create a hybrid of aerospace fighter and battlemech?

Fortunately for his peace of mind he could see no bodies, although the wreckage of at least two SLDF battlemechs made it clear that the brief battle for control of the Court of the Star League had not been entirely bloodless.

Gathering his resolve and fuelled in part by anger at the deliberate vandalism, Ian walked out into full view of the ‘Mechs that were tearing at the city – his city! – like a pack of carrion birds.

At first, it seemed that none had seen him. And certainly a lone man in dress uniform would hardly seem like a threat to them. Nonetheless one of them broke off from tearing down one of the Bureau of Star League Affairs buildings and bounded across two hundred metres of part towards him in a single easy flare of jump jets. In mid-air the machine twisted and turned upon itself like a child’s toy and what landed was not the bird-like shape that had taken off but a more humanoid BattleMech that looked fairly similar to a  Phoenix Hawk.

He was fairly sure that one of the muzzles aimed almost-but-not-quite at him must be an anti-personnel weapon of some kind – a laser rather than a machinegun, which was vaguely interesting but not exactly pertinent to his immediate concerns.

Ian looked around again and then raised both hands slowly above his head.

“I am Director-General of the Terran Hegemony,” he called out, speaking slowly and clearly. He had to choke down a sob before he could manage the next words. “I am here to surrender. Take me to your leader.”

---

TCS Samantha Calderon, Orbit
Terra, Terran Hegemony
25 June 2578

After a shuttle – Canopian-built - had rushed down to Unity City to take custody of him, Ian Cameron had been surprised to find himself mostly left alone. He’d been ushered into a guarded VIP room aboard the battleship – a room that had nothing more than privacy to recommend it – and been permitted to call on a steward although a squad of marines were posted in easy reach of his door.

For a while he’d waited, pacing back and forth the across the cramped compartment, expecting to be called before an admiral or a diplomatic team. When it became evident that this was not evident he had removed his shoes and tried to nap.

Sleep eluded him. Had Nicholas and Shandra reached the submarine safely? Were the Taurians and their allies landing elsewhere on Terra?

By Ian’s watch it had been thirteen hours since his arrival when the door opened to reveal a young man in the dress uniform of an AFFS junior officer. “Director-General Cameron, please accompany me.”

A sharp look from Ian matched the officer’s features to the distorted face he’d seen through a helmet visor during the hour he was watched over by his captors on the grond. “You’re the one who I surrendered to.”

“Yes sir. You’re in my custody, technically, for a few more minutes.” The man gestured towards the door. “Now if you would please.”

It was not a question or an invitation, but at least it was being phrased as one rather than as a demand. Ian complied and was ushered down a hallway and up a cramped flight of stairs – the ship was not under thrust at the moment, making it a relatively easy ascent – to a compartment little larger than that he had left. Rather than a small bunk and desk, this one had a table surrounded by fixed benches. Two men and two women sat on one side, Ian was ushered to the other.

“Sir, I present to you Director General Ian Cameron of the Terran Hegemony.”

“Thank you, lieutenant,” replied the taller of the men – a lanky Federated Suns officer with swarthy mediterranean features. No, not Federated Suns – the sword on his insignia was backed by a star field rather than the sunburst. This then, was the officer representing the Suns’ bastard offspring, Filtvet. “I accept responsibility for him.”

The other three ran the gamut of appearances – two Taurian Admirals, the man red-faced and middle-aged but with a look of command, the woman petite with a dramatic red tattoo around her eyes; and the last woman in Canopian blues and evidently crammed in behind the table with some difficulty – Ian estimated her to be the tallest person there and none of the men were small.

“Director-General,” the Filtvet officer began the introductions. “I am Admiral Jeffrey B. Global, the Arch-Duchess’ Champion. This is Admiral of the Fleet Garius Cain and Admiral Rukia Fukuda of the Taurian Concordat Navy and this is Admiral Stephanie Carringtion of the Royal Canopian Navy.”

“Canopian Navy Royal,” Carrington corrected with the air of someone who didn’t really expect the reminder to accomplish anything.

“Yes. The Canopian Royal Navy. My apologies.”

Carrington glared at Global who appeared quite ignorant of the fact he’d mangled the name of her service for a second time. “Let’s be about this.”

Cain leant forwards over the table, locking his eyes onto Ian. “We are authorised to represent our governments in preliminary discussion of terms for your surrender. Ambassadors from all the Periphery states will be here within weeks to finalise them.”

“I understand.”

“You offered surrender to Lieutenant Sopwith. Did you speak for your own person or for the Hegemony.”

“I spoke then for myself and will now speak for the Terran Hegemony.”

“Very well. The Taurian Concordat offers the Terran Hegemony the opportunity to surrender conditionally. The terms we offer are that the Terran Hegemony will renounce in general and in detail the Star League and all organisations and treaties associated with the Star League. The Hegemony will also pay reparations to the Federated Suns for the economic attacks launched upon them between 2555 and 2567. The Terran Hegemony will cede all rights to those worlds currently shared with the Federated Suns to First Prince Alexander Davion and to those worlds currently shared with the Capellan Confederation to Chancellor Ursula Liao. The Terran Hegemony Armed Forces, as reconstituted following the dissolution of the Star League Defense Force may not exceed one million armed soldiers nor one hundred megatons of shipping. The Taurian Concordat will be granted basing rights within the Terran Hegemony for the next ninety-nine years as guarantor of your security and of your adherence to these terms.”

Ian looked Cain in the eye. “I refuse.”

“Director-General, you do not have the luxury of clinging to the Star League.”

Carrington cleared her throat. “What conditions are you offering to surrender under, Director-General?” Then she held up one hand. “And if you’re planning on bargaining due to the fleet you sent to attack Canopus IV, we’re aware of it and at last report they were heavily engaged with the defences. No order you give now will change the outcome and we can reinforce far more rapidly than you can.”

“Nonetheless,” Ian began, trying not to let his disappointment show. “The terms that you’re asking for are unacceptable. Without the Star League the Hegemony will be surrounded by hostile states, including your allies the Federated Suns. It’s all very well to promise that you’ll come to our defence but the Hegemony is a long way from the Concordat and a long way down your line of priorities.”

“Our word is good,” Cain declared, red-faced.

The Director-General shook his head. “I will renounce the Star League – the grand experiment has failed, I admit that – and surrender the shared worlds. You can have the basing rights as well – I’m not so naive as to believe that you’ll trust us immediately. But if we can’t rebuild our defences then you might as well start carving up the Hegemony now.”

“Sounds good to me, let’s do that.”

Global coughed. “I think there’s some room for negotiation, Admiral Cain. Do you not agree, Admiral Carringon?”

“I do. And I think we can speak confidently here for the rest of the Periphery states.”

Rukia Fukuda cleared her throat. “Admiral, let’s not get ahead of ourselves. This is just a preliminary discussion.”

Cain scowled furiously. “Perhaps you’re right. We’ll let the diplomats discuss this.” He rose to his feet. “I’ll let the three of you deal with it until they get here.”

As he was sitting at the far end of the table, the other officers had to stand up to let him leave – in fact Carrington actually had to step into the gangway to make space.

“Admiral Cain is perhaps not temprementally suited to negotiating,” Admiral Fukuda offered in excuse once they had resumed their seats. “Perhaps you would consider a limit if your neighbours also agreed to one?”

Ian steepled his fingers. “A higher limit perhaps.”

   Wow! Thank you for writing the story line!!!

For anyone interested: after a few weeks rest, the game that this story is based on will be resuming and has room for new players.

Recruitment is here