OBT Forum

master arminas Re: Kerensky and Kurita « Reply #15 on: May 21, 2008, 10:26:07 AM »

Takiro,

Thanks for the comments and advice.

A few points.

The Edict of 2650 was doubled during the regency of Richard Cameron by the House Lords, remember (SLSB, don't recall the page number).  I always pictured House Kurita as having about 100-120 regiments of Mechs during the years of the edict, BUT, they have now had fifteen-sixteen years since they "legally" allowed themselves to double the size of their House Troops.  Now, not every great House has spent as much time, effort, and money as I imagine Kurita did.  So, of their "allowed" strength of between 200-240 regiments, I would picture them as having between 150-180 official house regiments.  The Ronin are "hidden" forces, about another 20 or so regiments in strength, which Kurita can officially deny the actions of, after all, these troops do not answer to me.

Now, it will probably be at least a year, more likely two, before the Combine begins full-scale military operations (and where will THAT happen, I wonder).  In that time, I can see the following occur:

Military Academies (Sun Zhang, Sun Zhu, etc.) will graduate all upper-class students (15 years old plus).  These student will be assigned to newly formed regiments with a small cadre of experienced officers and personnel.  Former DCMS and DCA personnel will be recalled to active duty (Sho-Sha Hedrick?  I have your orders to report for duty.  Yes, sir, I know you are 74, but you will serve the Dragon in a staff capacity so that a younger warrior can report to the front.)

A tremendous recruiting drive, based on the slur by Amaris on the Dragon's honor.  This will raise hordes of young, fanatical troops (quite green, but the survivors will learn fast).

The prisions.  I can see a Kurita recruiting officer going through prisions and making an offer you can't refuse.  Serve for the duration and your sentence will be purged.

Now, equipment for these troops.  I see Kurita--and the other Houses--as having keep military equipment in production throughout the years of the edict and stored against future need.  Kurita will tap these supplies to field the "new" troops.

So, at the beginning of the war, about 260-300 regiments of 'Mechs for Kurita (about 1/3 of which are brand-new, green troops), or roughly about the size of an SLDF Field Army.

I will continue later.

master arminas Re: Kerensky and Kurita « Reply #16 on: May 21, 2008, 11:02:57 AM »

Takiro,

You are right (mea culpa).  My numbers are TOO high for 'Mech regiments.  I changed it in the text of the story to read 300 regiments (all types).  I could see as many as half of these as 'Mech regiments (the Combine is a very 'Mech oriented force).

The next point I was thinking about is MONEY.

Where does the SLDF get their funds?  I mean, Amaris now controls the Treasury, the Mint, and the Banks where the majority of the funding of the SLDF resides.  Kerensky cannot even afford to pay his troops, let alone buy supplies, at least not for very long.

One possible solution is thus:  SL taxes are still being collected in the Great Houses.  Kerensky could demand that these funds go to the SLDF in a "rump" meeting of the Concil Lords.  An interesting thought here, what would happen if Kenyon Marik refused to release the SL tax funds to either Amaris or Kerensky.  "For the good of the Star League, until the situation is resolved, the government of the Free Worlds League will freeze all Star League tax assets collected, placing the money in escrow."  And using the interest generated for the benefit of the FWL.

Would the other Houses do the same?  I never thought about the SLDF's money situation before, it could be interesting.

Ice Hellion Re: Kerensky and Kurita « Reply #17 on: May 21, 2008, 04:04:30 PM »

The next point I was thinking about is MONEY.

Where does the SLDF get their funds?  I mean, Amaris now controls the Treasury, the Mint, and the Banks where the majority of the funding of the SLDF resides.  Kerensky cannot even afford to pay his troops, let alone buy supplies, at least not for very long.

I do not see this as a problem:
- pay for your troops? They are all volunteers and have lost everything. They only want revenge.
You can always pay them afterwards (a usual thing in most armies)
- pay for your supplies: according to my researches and guesses, we would have a rather forward supply network (you know things moving in the forward zone for invasion), allowing them at first to gain control of the Rim Worlds Republic without too much problem and after that they have the whole Republic working for them (plus the hidden help from the Successor States).

Now, it will probably be at least a year, more likely two, before the Combine begins full-scale military operations (and where will THAT happen, I wonder).  In that time, I can see the following occur:

Military Academies (Sun Zhang, Sun Zhu, etc.) will graduate all upper-class students (15 years old plus).  These student will be assigned to newly formed regiments with a small cadre of experienced officers and personnel.  Former DCMS and DCA personnel will be recalled to active duty (Sho-Sha Hedrick?  I have your orders to report for duty.  Yes, sir, I know you are 74, but you will serve the Dragon in a staff capacity so that a younger warrior can report to the front.)

A tremendous recruiting drive, based on the slur by Amaris on the Dragon's honor.  This will raise hordes of young, fanatical troops (quite green, but the survivors will learn fast).

The prisions.  I can see a Kurita recruiting officer going through prisions and making an offer you can't refuse.  Serve for the duration and your sentence will be purged.

Why are you recruiting so many troopers?
Even in the First Succession War, when they wanted to win at all costs, they did not undergo such a massive mobilisation.
Why would they do it now?

master arminas Re: Kerensky and Kurita « Reply #18 on: May 21, 2008, 04:15:31 PM »

Ice Hellion.

Jinjiro.  Remember him?  Crazy kid from Kentares IV fame?  "Kill them.  Kill them all."

Jinjiro is thinking ahead.  This is Minoru's war.  After it is over, he will be the next Coordinator.  Heck, Minoru has already said that he will commit seppaku.  Now, Jinjiro is crazy, but he is not stupid.  He is raising such a massive force in order to spare his best troops.  These new, green forces, they will be the ones doing the frontal assaults.  Storming the barricades, and all that.  The survivor's will be (eventually) folded into the line regiments.  But, plans can change.

Or do you think that's too much double-think?

Takiro Re: Kerensky and Kurita « Reply #19 on: May 21, 2008, 04:43:37 PM »

No problem master arminas, really enjoying your story.

Jinjiro has always been unstable and work we are doing on Battle of Lambrecht (a scenario pack for BTSD) illustrates that. I have pointed to an old school (Takashi) vs. new school (Theodore) in the DCMS of 2785. There are differences but there is, IMO, the same type of split between Minoru (traditionalists who value honor more so) and Jinjiro (glory seekers). There is an interesting option open to this new BT timeline. What if Minoru realizing the end is nigh picks Zabu to succeed him rather than the nutty Jinjiro? Something to think about for sure.

The DCMS of 2785 or in the case 2767 is nothing like its 3025 version. There are no old warriors. Remember you still have limits on the personnel you can use forcing out any weaklings. Competition is fierce. Just look at the Ronin. A good example is the Pesht Regulars outline in the original HKSB. They are not the grey dragons but Kurita Regulars just like in other Districts, plenty of manpower. Again I can give you some of my numbers if your interested. Let me look them up.

I outlined a lot of civilian concerns in Fanbook 2 - Project Phoenix which looked at what the SL government, corporations and non-military entities did during the Coup. Don't forget the HPG network as well. The SL probably makes money on that and other international ventures. There is the Rim Worlds as well to draw upon and the populace of the InnerSphere probably donates heavily for refugees of the crisis and to help Kerensky's cause. The SL might not directly tax member worlds rather it gets funding from member states.

master arminas Re: Kerensky and Kurita « Reply #20 on: May 22, 2008, 11:24:02 AM »

April 20, 2767
Imperial Palace
Luthien
Draconis Combine

"General DeChevilier will command the assault on Apollo with the Field Army assigned him.  With this move, General Kerensky will deprive Amaris of his source of manpower, equipment, and supply.  Please note, however, the Usurper will certainly make use of Star League facilities within the Hegemony—even if he has to use forced labor.  This is merely the preliminary operation, and it will be mid August before sufficient SLDF forces are within striking range to carry off the attack."  Anders paused and turned from the holographic display filled with troop formations, maps, and bold arrows, such a clean, antiseptic, way to hide the horrors of war, he thought.  "Questions?"

Minoru Kurita nodded his head towards the uniformed officers of the DCMS and DCA assembled here in the Draconis War Room—known by local wags as the Dragon's Lair.

"General Anders," began Admiral Matasuke, "you have told us of the SLDF plans for what you call Phase I of the Liberation.  Understandably, the other phases are still being discussed and operation plans drawn up.  However, you have not discussed what Draconis forces will be doing during this time frame.  Are we expected to remain here, in camp, waiting on the SLDF like an anxious virgin on her wedding night?"

Chuckles arose from the room, even Minoru smiled slightly.  Anders grinned broadly.  "No, sir.  It was my intention to brief you on what the SLDF forces will be doing—and our overall strategic plan of operation.  Now having done that—if there are no further questions about what General Kerensky is doing?  No?  Then, Admiral, Generals, Coordinator, its time to have a look at what WE will be doing"

Punching a code into his hand-held remote, Anders blanked the hologram, then a stellar map of the Hegemony/Combine border appeared.  Most of the Hegemony worlds blazed a solid lurid red—but one rapidly blinked.  "Asta.  Two jumps in from the Combine border.  Considered by many to be a backwater, but more importantly it is a Hegemony world that is not fortified.  They were scheduled to receive an SDS system nearly ten years ago, but work has been slow and behind schedule.  As per my last intelligence report, the system was still incomplete and off-line.  As we have had no communication with Asta we can presume that Rim Worlds forces have taken the planet.  It will be your job to retake it."

The officers gathered began to whisper among themselves as they as mulled the proposed operation.  Finally, one of them stood.

"Yes, General Samasov?"

"General Anders, what reports do we have of the enemy strength?"

"None, General."

"Can Amaris's techs have completed the SDS over the past four months—or before the operation can be mounted?" asked another officer.

Anders shook his head.  "Not according to my staff.  There is just too much specialized work remaining to be done—especially on the automated fire control procedures—for a full-bore SDS system to be finished in the time frame allocated.  My technical experts are not sure the SLDF could finish the project in this short a period.  Certainly Amaris cannot.  However, elements of the system might be on-line under manual control.  Not the automated Caspers, but the ground bases certainly could.  And we will not know whether or not this has been done until the operation is under way."

"Asta is a fairly rural world, population of roughly 4.2 million, mostly concentrated here in the northern continent—known locally as North Continent, rather imaginatively.”  Chuckles broke out across the room; they all knew just how parochial rural planetary populations could be.  â€œHawkins is the capital, with a population of only 270,000.  There is only local industry; no heavy factories.  Before the war, Asta was primarily a farming world, mainly in this belt here, along the southern coast of North Continent.  Farther north there is an extensive game management industry—Astan Ridgebacks are big, nasty, and have very valuable furs.  Other prominent animals are also hunted and trapped by the local population.  There is also some controlled logging in unpopulated areas.  Astan Feroak is very highly valued among the people who can afford the exorbitant price.  There is some tourism—primarily to about half-a-dozen resorts located at the hot springs in Amber’s Vale, but also some adventurous people who want to brag about hunting Ridgeback.  The two smaller continents have very small populations—fewer than 100,000 each—and no significant industries.  Roughly 70% of the world's surface is water, and the climate is much cooler than Old Earth—ranging from the equivalent of Southern France and Central Italy here at the equator to extremely cold at the poles.  There are no permanent settlements north of 45 degrees in the northern hemisphere.  This region—a band about 10 degrees in latitude is very similar to the Taiga regions of Siberia and Northern Canada.”

“Before the war, Asta did not have an SLDF base, either ground-side or in orbit—other than the SDS facilities undergoing construction.  Since these facilities were not yet operational, no troops had been assigned to them.  The only troops on the planet were local militia.  However, Asta—despite its fairly small population—has the largest per capita percentage of its population that are either current or former SLDF members of any Hegemony world.  There are several old armories left over from the days before the Star League—when the Hegemony did have a presence on the world and a couple of military bases.  These armories might still contain usable weapons or munitions for indigenous guerilla activities against the occupation forces.  And they are probably being used, gentlemen, even as we speak.  Asta is not a world whose people who can’t decide what to do in a crisis.”

"Taking Asta will provide us with a base of operations inside Amaris's defensive perimeter, one just two jumps away from Terra.  Because of that, Gunji-no-kanrei Kurita has determined that we will make the assault on August 1."

A stir went through the room as Anders stepped to one side.  Jinjiro Kurita stepped up onto the stage.  "This is the first offensive act of this war by the Dragon.  Everyone—in every realm—is watching.  We will do this perfectly.  General Fujita, your DEST teams will go in two weeks before the main assault to conduct reconnaissance and sabotage.  I have been informed that the SLDF is making a dozen "Bugs-eye" class corvettes available for their insertion.  General Samasov, your command has the honor of the primary assault wave.  I will arrive with the secondary planetary assault wave and the reserve—which will include all five of our Sword of Light regiments.  Admiral Matasuke, the Fleet will provide covering fire from orbit—should any of the SDS ground bases become active.  It will be your job to ensure the Rim Worlds navy does not prevent our landings."

Officers nodded in the dim room as the holographic projection clicked off.  "And now, let us begin with the operations plan in detail," Jinjiro said, smiling.

master arminas Re: Kerensky and Kurita « Reply #21 on: May 22, 2008, 01:38:33 PM »

July 18, 2767
Somewhere north-west of Granger’s Ford
North Continent, Asta
Empire of Amaris (Terran Hegemony)

The cold rain continued to drizzle down, threatening with each passing moment to become a slushy sleet this late afternoon.  Heavy gray clouds hung low, filling the valley.  A perfect autumn day for a walk, thought Stephen, perfect for Asta, anyway.  Temperatures hovered just above 40, though when the warm front passed, they could expect it to drop below freezing.  A light snow cover, just now beginning to turn to mush, still covered most of the forest floor beneath the twenty-meter evergreens.  Icy, wet branches drooped overhead, an occasional hazard anytime of the year in the Black Pine forest preserve, but a real threat during the rainy season, when the weight of ice would break branches, sending them plummeting downwards like giant spears.

There were no trails here this deep in the Black Pine, other than what the game made.  Not a trace of human habitation, other than the rare hermit.  An accomplished—and avid—hunter, Stephen tried to spend a few weeks here every year, at least since his discharge from the service.  But never had he gone so deep into the primitive taiga of his favorite world.  And, he thought, sighing, never with Marianne and Cassie along.

He could hear Marianne whining twenty feet behind him.  Thank God, Cassie at least was still in high spirits!  But then, when you’re six, it’s hard to keep you down for long, and Cassie always did have more of an adventurous streak than her mother.  He had even taught her how to shoot just before they came out here for Christmas—and didn’t Marianne pitch a fit and a half about that!  â€œStephen, Cassie doesn’t need to know that stuff.  That’s what your grunts are for!”  Once again, he winced, remembering how Marianne had spoken about the detail, in front of the detail, no less.  Sometimes, he could not remember why he had ever married the woman—at least not until he looked at Cassie and her smile.

“Damn it, Stephen, will you stop!”

Sighing, he turned back towards Marianne again.  â€œWhat is it THIS time?”

“My boot is coming loose, and I have water—cold water—running down my ankle.  I am tired and hungry, there are blisters on my feet, I have pulled muscles that I could SWEAR I never even had, and I really, really have to piss,” she said as she began laughing, and Stephen remembered why yet again.  Oh, yeah, brother, when she’s up, she’s UP.  It’s just the rest of the damn time.  â€œIt’s not like I don’t know what a bind we are in, dearest, but can’t you just have your people with guns shoot the damn Rimmers and we go back to a nice, warm, hotel room.”

Stephen walked over to where Marianne was leaning against a tree, trying to balance on one foot, while relacing the boot worn on her other.  Leaning over, he brushed her forehead with his lips, “You know we can’t.  I’ve got only six men left, with just handguns, and two hunting rifles.  Last word we got from Hawkins was they had landed twelve regiments of Rim World regulars, and two mercenary ‘Mech units.  For now, at least, we’ve got no choice.  We have to keep pushing away from the central valley, away from the population centers.  You know as well as I do what they will do with us—and Cassie—if they catch us.”

His wife looked up, her face drawn and haggard—she really wasn’t eating enough.  But then, neither were the rest of them.  Her eyes were red and her mouth pursed in a look of pure worry, “I know.  I know, and it’s not your fault.  As much as I hate this back-water planet and your hunting trips, this time it’s the only thing that saved our lives—otherwise, we would have been back in Unity City when. . . . “.

“Shhhh, hon, shhhh.  We will make it.  I promise you.”

Brush rustled ahead of them, and one of their security detail shifted his weapon slightly as he watched.  Ferns parted, and a little girl, trailed by her very own bodyguard—carrying one of their two heavy rifles—, ran towards Stephen.

“Daddy!”

“Baby, just where the dickens have you been,” Stephen said in mock outrage as he scooped her up.

Cassie looked adoringly up at him, “We’ve been scouting, just like you showed us.  Heather and I crept up to that ridge over yonder . . . ,”

“God, she’s talking like a local,” muttered Marianne.

“. . . over THERE, MOTHER, and we saw a small lake with some houses up under the trees.”

Stephen looked at Heather Schell and the guard responsible for his daughter’s safety nodded.  â€œAbout two kilometers away and there are five buildings tucked beneath the trees on the lakeshore.  The overhead is too thick to be spotted from the air; we got lucky to see it at just the right angle across the lake.  I think it’s worth a shot, at least, Sir.”

Looking at his watch, Stephen noted the time—1652 local—, just two hours ‘til twilight.  And it’s going to get really cold tonight.  Cassie was still in good spirits, but even she looked tired, and could use a hot meal.  God, they all could.  â€œGerald, you and Thom go a’callin on the locals.  The rest of us will follow at a safe distance.  If it looks like a trap, I will try to give you some covering fire from ab. . . .”

“No, sir.  If it’s a trap then you and the family will run like hell.  It’s my JOB to trip any traps intended for you and yours.  That’s why I wear the uniform, that’s why I get paid my magnificent salary.  Josh, Heather, Chuck, Laura—if it is a trap, get the family the hell out, and that’s an order.”

Heather Schell nodded, “Gotcha, Top.  We hear gunfire, its bugout time.”

Stepping close to the short, stocky man, Stephen whispered, “Top, I’m the best shot you got left.  Let me cover you.”

“No, and that is final, even if you do outrank me.  Have them court-martial me later, L.T.,” Gerald Howe, First Sergeant, SLDF whispered back.  â€œDon’t make me sucker punch you.”

“Again, Top?  It wouldn’t be first time, would it?”

“No, sir.  It wouldn’t.”

“Ok,” Stephen said.  â€œSee if the people there will take in nine strays for the night; maybe give us some food and supplies.  When you give the all-clear, the rest of us will come in.”

Howe stepped back one pace and saluted, “Yes, sir,” turning to Thom Pappas, “come on you devil-dog; what, you want to live forever?”

As Gerald Howe and Thom Pappas walked off into the dense undergrowth, Stephen and Cassie Cameron—last surviving members of the ruling family—watched, and Stephen said a quiet prayer as Marianne squeezed his hand.

Ice Hellion Re: Kerensky and Kurita « Reply #22 on: May 22, 2008, 02:28:40 PM »

Jinjiro is thinking ahead.  This is Minoru's war.  After it is over, he will be the next Coordinator.  Heck, Minoru has already said that he will commit seppaku.  Now, Jinjiro is crazy, but he is not stupid.  He is raising such a massive force in order to spare his best troops.  These new, green forces, they will be the ones doing the frontal assaults.  Storming the barricades, and all that.  The survivor's will be (eventually) folded into the line regiments.  But, plans can change.

Even if Jinjiro is the leader of the Armed Forces, he is not the complete ruler of the Draconis Combine and I doubt that Minoru would let him do that.

Interesting idea to use the DCMS to get a foot in the former Terran Hegemony.
I would have used them to raid and resupply the trapped troops.
This way, Amaris forces would have had more opponents to catch and they might have pursued ghosts or just sit down waiting for the next offensive.
In the first case, they would be tired and running low on equipments and in the second, they would develop a besieged mentality, not a good thing.

master arminas Re: Kerensky and Kurita « Reply #23 on: May 22, 2008, 02:41:54 PM »

Hellion,

Thanks for the replies.  I picture the DCMS hitting Asta as a way to force Amaris to march to their drum.  Defenses are sub-par (compared to the really populated worlds of the TH), but M. Kurita and J. Kurita (and Anders) know Amaris--including his temper and his mood swings.  They are banking on Stefan Amaris going ballistic when the Combine--not the SLDF--takes a world of the Hegemony away from his troops.

Now, what will SA do?  If he is smart, blockade.  Use naval forces to keep the DC pinned down--sure, they hold the planet, but they can't do anything with it.  If, however, he throws a tantrum, and tries to retake it, the DCMS and DCA will hand his troops their heads.

Once the DC has secured Asta, I had pictured bringing in the survivors of the SLDF RCT's (all of them).  These units would be paired up with DC forces and sent on raiding missions against TH worlds without an SDS.  Minoru and Jinjiro aren't stupid.  They will not tackle any world that has an SDS--except for Asta, and then only because they know it was not operational.

Now [SPOILER ALERT] Jinjiro, with Minoru's approval, is taking Asta specifically to look at and possibly steal the SDS technology.  Incomplete, perhaps.  Better than what Luthien has, certainly.  Can they duplicate the Caspers, no.  Can they build the ground bases, you better believe it.  Regardless of the reasons that JK sold the invasion to Anders, this is the real one behind it.

How did you like the excerpt from Asta itself, by the way, Ice?

Takiro Re: Kerensky and Kurita « Reply #24 on: May 22, 2008, 04:32:40 PM »

Where did you get your information on Asta? It is not a minor world. Rather it was a very important world that  lost some of its status during the Star League era. It has a population of billions even in its Dark Age write up.

master arminas Re: Kerensky and Kurita « Reply #25 on: May 22, 2008, 04:38:48 PM »

That's the problem with dealing with an established universe.  I never knew that anything had been written about Asta.  I just liked the name and the location--so with a wave of the hand it came about.  LOL

Seriously, if you know something I don't (and I am certain you--and others--do), just let me know.

Now, the question is, what does Jinjiro do after the invasion, when he finds out he has the last surviving Camerons on his planet?  Things that make you go Hum......

Takiro Re: Kerensky and Kurita « Reply #26 on: May 22, 2008, 05:13:35 PM »

Ah very good. I like what your doing here but I was wondering about some of the factoids you were throwing out. I love your novel style and one of the reasons it is so good is that facts are secondary to your story. I'm the other way around. That is why my writing is more sourcebook then novel. Would you be willing to undertake a BTSD project? Let me know.

Will do. Asta information can be found in Fanbook 2 - Project Phoenix.

Your last Cameron is certainly a different twist on ours. Are you familiar with any BTSD stuff?

Jinjiro would probably go to Minoru for a course of action. He was loyal to his father I believe so he wouldn't act irrationally here unless circumstances were drastically different. It does present Kurita with an interesting boggle. He went to war for his family. Would he hold this Cameron hostage? I think not, especially since doing so would make him the equal of Amaris. Hell of a PR boost for the DC if they save the Last Cameron.

blacktigeractual Re: Kerensky and Kurita « Reply #27 on: May 23, 2008, 09:26:24 AM »

Haven't been around much, so see what I miss?  Very enjoyable storyline here MA, I hope you will continue.  It is definately a plot line that catches at me and I hope we see some Kurita heroes.  In this time period they have a serious sinister aura about them, it would be nice to see the liberation from a loyal honest son of the Combine.

master arminas Re: Kerensky and Kurita « Reply #28 on: May 23, 2008, 11:20:06 AM »

July 18, 2767
Harrison Lodge
North Continent, Asta
Empire of Amaris (Terran Hegemony)

"I can't thank you enough, Mr. Harrison," Stephen said as the last of his party stepped inside the entrance of the lodge.

"The name is Emil, my Lord, and you don't need to thank me for helping people in distress.  It's what we do here in the North Country," the old man said with a smile.  "Let's get you and yours in and warm, and maybe Helen, here, can fix something hot for supper, eh, Helen?"

"Supper's simmering in the kitchen, folks.  Our kids and grand-kids are mostly out checking the trap-lines, or working in the hot-house, but Molly and I will get y'all fixed right up," Helen said as she knelt down, a grimace on her face as some pain caught her, and looked right at Cassie.  "I got some cocoa ready to be warmed up, if you want some, sweetie."

Cassie looked up at Stephen and Marianne, her eyes suddenly big, and Stephen nodded.  "Its ok, why don't you run on ahead and see what Miss Helen can fix you?"

"I'll even go with you, honey," said Marianne.

"Okey-dokey, Daddy, Mommy!" grabbing Helen's hand, Cassie started to lead the way, then realized she didn't know where to go.  Helen chuckled and took Cassie through one of the doors on the back wall, Heather trailing along behind her, as always.

Emil turned to a sideboard set deep on one wall, and opened the glass door, extracting a bottle and glasses.  "Drinks, boys and girls?"

Stephen smiled, while Gerald openly grinned.  "We haven't seen whiskey in the better part of four weeks, Mr. Har—Emil," said Gerald.  "That would do nicely, if you don't mind."

As Emil poured the whiskey into seven glasses, neat, and passed them around, Stephen looked around the interior of the lodge.  Constructed from the heavy feroak Asta was famous for, the dark polished walls contained the heat from three separate fireplaces.  Beams of the same material criss-crossed overhead, and two stairs climbed up to the second floor.  Towards the back of the room, another stairway descended into the ground.  Granite flagstone tiles formed the floor, covered with thick rugs.  Chairs and couches were scattered across the room, and as Emil sat in a well-worn recliner, everyone else found a seat—gingerly, since no one wanted to get too much dirt and mud on the Harrison's furniture.  Set on the mantle over one of the fireplaces was a display case, holding a worn patch with a golden lion rampant, and a couple of dozen-odd medals—including the Medal of Valor.  Two separate racks near the door held a dozen firearms, with empty spaces for a score more.

"You served, Emil, with the Lion-hearted Division?"

"Yes, my Lord, 328th Royals, I was a T-bolt jock back in the day.  Retired thirty years back, and came home to Asta.  Had enough separation pay and inheritance, that I was able to buy a thousand hectares and build this lodge.  Been here ever since, me and my family, trapping and selling the meat and furs.  We have a hot-house out back, where we raise our fruits and vegetables."

Taking a pull from his drink, Stephen's face grew still, "And have you had any news from Hawkins?"

Emil grimaced, "Yeah.  Still get some radio transmissions from the capital, though the satellite video channels are down.  The Rimmers are hunting you; seems they want you and that little girl of yours pretty badly, my Lord."

"I was afraid of that when they began the landings in force.  We've been on the run ever since, moving from lodge to lodge."

"Figured as much, smart of you to stay low.  The Rimmers have begun taking and executing hostages, until you folks are turned over to them.  Not even offering a reward, just 'do it or die' type of talk."

Stephen winced at the thought of Astans being killed just to flush him out of hiding.

"It's not your fault, son.  You didn't make 'em do this, and you sure as hell can't turn yourself in.  You are the First Lord now, my Lord, and that little girl in the kitchen is your Heir."

"I know, Emil, I know."

*****************************************************************************

Later, after having eaten, and met the other members of the Harrison clan, Stephen sat upstairs in an overstuffed chair in a small drawing room just off the bedroom Emil had offered him and Marianne.  He could hear water running from the bath as Marianne scrubbed dirt, fear, and anxiety from her skin.  His hair still wet from his own cleansing—and god had he needed that—, Stephen struggled trying to adjust his leg.

"How is the leg, L.T." asked Gerald Howe from the open door.

"You tell me, Top," said Stephen, disgusted as he tossed the prosthetic to his bodyguard and friend.

Gerald ran a diagnostic, "Hmmmm, power levels down to about 12%.  Other than that, we got green lights.  The Harrison's should be able to spare a little juice and we will top the batteries off."  He looked up and grinned, "You know, they got a thermal tap about four klicks away at some hot springs?"

"No kidding?  I kinda wondered where they were getting their power from—any side-scatter from the transmission lines?"

"Nope, all of the lines are buried, with no leakage.  L.T., they could look for us for months and fail to find this place.  The Harrison's say they are willing to put us up for as long as you are willing to stay, but that's your call, sir."

Stephen sighed, "Top, I wish we could.  But we can't just put these folks in danger.  If the Rimmers even suspect they are helping us, it will go very badly for them."

"Teach your grandfather to suck eggs, boy.  I know that.  But," and Gerald paused, "it might not make any difference in the long run."

Stephen experienced a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach.  "What's happened now?"

"Radio broadcast out of Hawkins.  The Rimmers are tired of sending troops into the brush—seems the Astans have taken to hunting them, instead of ridgebacks.  Instead, the populace has until midnight, August 1st to turn us in."

"Or?"

"Or they are gonna saturation nuke the entire North Continent."

"Shit."

master arminas Re: Kerensky and Kurita « Reply #29 on: May 23, 2008, 12:39:01 PM »

July 18, 2767
SLS Beagle
Jump Point KV107 (Uninhabited)
Empire of Amaris (Terran Hegemony)

Sho-sa Hiroyoshi Tanaka had tried meditation, sleep, counting sheep, rechecking his equipment, but still he could not calm his nerves.  The DEST commando was not a novice at combat; he was disgusted with himself over his anxiety.  His training, however, had never prepared him for this.  Sealed inside a two-meter diameter sphere; completely cut off from the outside world except for a single comm and life support line connecting him to the ship.  And that annoying little imp in the back of his mind that kept repeating—over and over, like a mantra—what the old SLDF non-com had said last week.  "Have I ever done it?  Do I look suicidal, boy?"

The drop-pod was an SLDF design, and Hiroyoshi had never before used one—even in training.  And this drop would not be a training exercise.  No, once the jump was complete, he and his entire DEST team, and eleven other DEST teams, and 2,592 decoy pods would burn for the surface of Asta.  Nearly 2,900 hundred pods, just to try and get the 288 commando's safely to the surface.  The Mark V individual landing pod (stealth) was a marvel of SLDF engineering.  Radar was barely able to make out the pod, even at point-blank range.  The outer surface was thermal-neutral, and once separated from the ship, zero-emissions.  In fact, he had been assured that once the rocket thrusters burnt out, it would be virtually impossible to detect, let alone intercept, the pods.

If so, he thought wryly, why do we need the decoys?  In point of fact, the system had never been used by anyone, even the SLDF, in actual combat conditions.  And to add to his worries, once the thrusters fired, he would have no—none—zero control over the pod.  It would fly a pure ballistic course, designed to hit the atmosphere and burn in.  And burn was the operative word, indeed.  In fact, the outer fifty centimeters of the pod were ablative surfaces designed to shear off and burn up, allowing the pod's cargo—himself—to continue his descent.  Once past the upper atmosphere, four parachutes would fire in sequence, slowing his fall to a speed that MIGHT be survivable.  At 5,000 meters, explosive charges will rip the pod apart, leaving him free-falling in open air.  At that point, it would be just another HALO (high-altitude, low-opening) jump, and he had done dozens of those.

But, it all depended on the ship and crew getting the pod to the right place at the right time.  A second too early or too late, and his pod could go screaming past Asta, soaring away into deep space until his air supply ran out.  Or a Rim ship or a satellite could just be in his way, and he would never know until the collision.  Or—and this was his deepest fear—the SDS system would be operational, and high-energy lasers and particle beams would simply devour he and his men before they ever knew they had failed.

"All personnel," the sudden voice in his ear startled Hiroyoshi, "stand by for jump, in ten seconds from mark.  Mark.  Nine.  Eight.  Seven.  Six."

Steeling himself, Hiroyoshi closed his eyes and began reciting a prayer to his ancestors.

July 18, 2767
SLS Beagle
L-2 Pirate Point
Asta
Empire of Amaris (Terran Hegemony)

"Jump complete, all systems are . . . "

"Status change!  Multiple hostile ships; range—5,000 kilometers!"

Commander Ginger Kincaid looked at the crowded display—at least a dozen Rim Worlds warships, at point blank range.  "Fire the pods, get them off now, damn you!  Weaps, target the closest hostile and open fire."

Turning her command chair to her engineer, he shook his head.  "It will take four minutes to recycle the KF drive, even with the L/F battery.  Sorry, skipper."

"Can't be helped, we were just unlucky enough to pick the wrong jump point.  Maneuvering, full power on the drives; set your course 172 Mark 017."

"Ma’am, course 172, Mark 017 . . . ma'am, navicomp projects that course will result in a collision."

"You have your orders, maneuvering; go to maximum thrust on that course!"

"Aye, aye, skipper."

As the corvettes engines began to fire, accelerating the ship at 4.5 g's, the mission specialist barked out "Pods away, all pods are away!"

Well, one part of this mission is successful, Ginger thought.

"Missile launch!  Multiple inbound missiles, tracking makes it 14-plus barracuda and white shark from the formation at 214 Mark 084!"

"Point-defense free!  Engage as you bear!"

A series of explosions rocked the SLS Beagle as Rim Worlds ships began firing naval autocannons, lasers, PPCs, and capital missiles.  The drive system faltered momentarily then came back on-line.  As the SLS Beagle rammed the cruiser RWS Takedo Amaris amidships, her abused engines detonated, completing the destruction of the SLS Beagle, and gutting the heavy Rim World ship.

July 19, 2767
Mid-atmosphere
North Continent, Asta
Empire of Amaris (Terran Hegemony)

Hiroyoshi struggled to keep his lunch down as the pod spun around and around.  With a sudden BANG, the explosive charges fired, flinging pieces of the disintegrating pod away from his body.  Automatically, he extended his body to form an aero-surface, stabilizing his fall.  In the light of Asta's two moons, he could see the Coldgleam River to his left and Ridgeback Peak to his right.  Ok, Hiroyoshi, he thought, that means your assigned drop zone is. . . . there.  As he continued to free-fall, he watched his airspeed and altitude on the heads-up device contained in his helmet.  Reaching 500 meters, he pulled the ripcord, and a massive shock slammed throughout his body as the para-sail deployed.  Thirty seconds later, the DEST commando reached the ground, landing as lightly as a feather.  Moving quickly, he disassembled the para-sail and buried it.  Four hours until sunrise.  He would have to move quickly to make it to the rendezvous point with his team on time.  As Hiroyoshi began to move across the darkened forest, it occurred to him that if he survived the Asta campaign, then he would have to climb back into another pod for the next target.  Frak me, he thought.

Ice Hellion Re: Kerensky and Kurita « Reply #45 on: May 29, 2008, 06:17:04 PM »

Actually the Capellan March leadership may not have been Hasek at this time. This was recently address in the new House Davion Handbook.

Exactly what I was trying to say  (and I have the same source).

Now the Succession War game has these five Davion names in the era of 2785 onward.
John Davion
Richard Davion
Vance Gentry
Ernest Hapala
Lee Kissick

I would say that John Davion is leading the Federated Suns, Richard Davion has the Crucis March (standard procedure cf. the old House Davion Sourcebook), the Sandoval family is leading the Draconis March.
So any of the last three could do. They are lesser nobles and I could not find any further reference to them, something in line with the fluff of the Davion Handbook).

Takiro Re: Kerensky and Kurita « Reply #46 on: May 29, 2008, 06:54:20 PM »

Yes exactly what I said.  No disrespect meant my Icey friend. Smiley I will look up their leadership values for clues to their idenity

master arminas Re: Kerensky and Kurita « Reply #47 on: May 30, 2008, 09:38:31 AM »

August 1, 2767
Industrial District, Hawkins
North Continent, Asta
Empire of Amaris (Terran Hegemony)

A line of bullets ricocheted across the rubble where Stephen had been standing a moment before.  Cold muddy water splashed and splattered as he dove into the crater of what had once been a major roadway in the city of Hawkins.  Now, it was a war zone.  Smoke and dust rose from all around him as the Rim Worlds infantry continued their assault.  Lifting himself on his elbows, he took a quick glance around; yes, the insurgents were shooting back.  For green troops, these guys were solid, he thought, the old 42nd CAAN couldn’t have done much better in this situation.

“Sir,” a voice shouted from his side, though the sound was strangely muted.  He remembered how combat did strange things to one’s hearing; the constant abuse by gunfire and explosions, the screams of the wounded, some poor kid sobbing, terrified by his own lack of courage more than the enemy; all of these things numbed the brain that processed them.  He shook his head to clear it and lifted a thumb at Thom.  Gathering himself, he pushed himself up and into a crouch, and once again began running towards the redoubt he had designated as the last stand.

More bullets whipped through the air around them, and then a grenade landed twenty feet away.  The explosion tried to knock him over, but his will kept his legs pumping, and then he and Thom dove through the open door and against the concrete wall.

Gerald Howe crawled over on his elbows, his face a mixed study in terror and rage.  “You imbecile!  For the love of God, L.T., at this moment you are the one man who we can NOT lose.  Christ in heaven, you are frakkin’ First Lord himself.  First Lords do NOT walk the frakkin’ perimeter like some butterbar fresh out of the Academy!  Sure as HELL not when we got a couple of hundred Rim World pukes out there gunning for us like we were two-dollar whores and they just been released from serving five-to-ten.”

Stephen couldn’t help it, he began to laugh, and in a moment, after Gerald Howe’s face turned red, then purple, then a color he could not even describe, he started laughing too.  Stephen reached up and put his hand on Gerald’s shoulder, still laughing.  “You still think we are going to get of here, Top.  That’s good, the troops need to think that too,” he whispered, too soft for any except Gerald and Thom to hear.  “But we know the truth, there are too many of them, and they are gunning for me with a vengeance.  Sure, we are going to drive this one off, and maybe the next, and if we get a miracle the next.  But after that?  After that Top, they bring in ‘Mechs and smash us straight into the concrete.  You know it; I know it; Thom knows it.  So quit worrying about me eating a bullet and let me do my frakking job, Top Sergeant.  I was a hell of platoon leader once, you know.”

Gerald leaned back and rubbed the bandage covering the shrapnel wound on his right thigh.  “You were, Sir, I remember.  After all, I was there.”  Pausing he looked around, the gunfire had diminished sharply and the insurgents of the resistance were cheering, as the Rimmers began to pull back.  “At least you were after I taught you few things about combat, anyway, L.T.  Damn-fool idiots back at O.C.S. and the Academy; they teach everything except the things that’ll keep you alive when the shit hits the fan.  About the only good thing to come about from this stinking mess is that all those politically correct REMF’s are probably dead by now.”

Stephen levered himself up, but stayed below the level of the window.  Some redoubt, he thought.  An old steel-reinforced concrete building that had seen many better days.  At least the rubble would stop a few rounds and give the insurgents some cover against the next attack.  Extending his hand, he grabbed Gerald’s wrist pulling the wounded man to his feet.  “Let’s find out who we lost this time, Top.  Thom, it’s time to pull all the troops back to here.  We getting stretched too thin to hold the entire perimeter,” he glanced at Gerald as he continued, “would you pass the word to fall back?”

“Yes, sir,” he said as crouched and headed back outside.

Stephen and Gerald scuttled across the wrecked building—staying low to avoid giving a sniper a good shot—to a recessed stairwell descending through the floor.  They went down the stairs and through a door.  Inside, hand-held battery torches provided a dim illumination as the few physicians they had tried to save the lives of the wounded.  Already, a dozen dead were lined against one wall, their chests and heads covered with some old burlap that had been found upstairs.  Twice that many were wounded, and only three doctors—none of them trauma specialists—were to be had.

“How are we on ammo, Top?”

“Not bad, about half the troops are using weapons the Rimmers don’t exactly need any more.  Including some squad heavy weapons.  Between that and the men down here who can’t shoot, we got enough.  Enough for what’s coming, at least.”

“And the Docs?”

“If I thought the Rimmers would accept a flag of truce to extract our wounded, L.T., I would give it a try.  But they won’t, and you know it.  We ran out of pain killers half an hour ago, so they’re making do with an old case of hootch we found stashed down here.  Piss-poor stuff, but strong.”

Stephen stopped, and leaned against the wall for moment rubbing his artificial leg.  Damn how it always itches.  He stopped—his face white as a sheet as shock hit his system.

“L.T.?” Gerald was suddenly there, worry written across his face at Stephen’s sudden reaction.  “Let me take a look.  Whoa, boyo.  Good thing, you had already lost that leg, L.T., cause that’s one big nasty looking hole right there.”

“Top, I never even felt it hit.”

“Count your blessings, L.T.  Count your blessings.”

Both men swiveled their heads as Thom came pounding down the stairway.  “Sir, we need you up top.  Now.”

Stephen and Gerald broke into a run, as gunfire began to erupt once more in the distance.

*****************************************************************************

Senior Sergeant Rashal tal-Midon, spat brown tobacco juice out the open hatch cover of his Flea class BattleMech.  He didn’t like the Rim Worlders, but a job was a job, and with his resume—his record, one might say—The Chain Gang was one of the few independent regiments that would hire him.  So now, here he was, working for Amaris on this crappy little world, in the crappy little Hegemony.  And the crappy little Rim Worlds troops couldn’t seem get the job done this night.  So, the Colonel had awakened Rashal out of a drugged stupor and sent him out here to support these PBI’s along with the other three ‘Mechs in his lance.

Three blocks away, he could see the concrete structure these insurgents were holed up in.  Damn guerillas blew the air-field, the power-station, and the Rimmers own Headquarters earlier, plus a dozen other targets.  It was just pure blind luck that this insurgent group got found.  The Rim Worlds patrol that—literally—drove into them was on the wrong side of the District.  Well, they paid for that with their lives, but ever since, more and more troops had come here to take some payback.  Only, the payback was going the wrong way.

What was wrong with these yokels?  Sending farm-boys armed with hunting rifles chasing after trained infantry and ‘Mechs?  Didn’t they know when they were beaten?  At least the Colonel thought they had finally caught this imposter Cameron; the one who really killed Richard and his family, Emperor Amaris arriving just too late to stop the assassin from fleeing to Asta.  An unguarded comm transmission earlier in the night indicated that he was leading this particular group.

“Blazer Three, let’s finish this mess.  Get in there and flush them out.”  And, then we get to go to one of the other three-score hot-spots that had erupted spontaneously during the night.  Joy, just what he wanted to spend the day doing; getting shot at by the local-yokels for something other than bedding their women.  And he really needed his next fix; he was starting to get antsy.

“Roger, that, Blazer Lead.”

*****************************************************************************

Stephen sighed.  This was it, the end.  Four BattleMechs stood four hundred meters away, behind a burned out row of warehouses.  Two Fleas, a Stinger, and a Wasp; all four were twenty-ton Scout ‘Mechs.  Might as well be an assault battalion for all that we can do to stop them.  He knelt down next to the militia-man who had the only man-portable Short-Range-Missile launcher in their group.  And their last two SRM rockets.

“You make the call; then take the shot, Paul.  When you fire, I’ll give the order to open up with everything we’ve got.”

“Yes, Sir, Lord Stephen, don’t you worry none about me.  I can thread a sewing needle with this baby at 300 yards.”

“Just make sure your sewing needle is on one of those ‘Mechs, trooper.”

The soldier just smiled and hefted the launcher to one shoulder.

The Wasp began to move, and flame erupted from its back.  Stephen stopped.  That wasn’t jump-jet exhaust, it was. . . “Everyone down, NOW!”  he shouted as he dropped prone, pulling his arms up to cover his head.

*****************************************************************************

The concussion was tremendous as the Wasp simply exploded where it stood.  Thirty meters away, the Stinger staggered around as most of its armor—and some of its internal workings—were stripped away by the force of the blast, and slammed into a nearby building, and then fell as the upper two stories collapsed down atop it.  Both Fleas stumbled then righted themselves, saved from outright destruction simply by virtue of being farther away.  The Rim Worlds infantry were not quite so lucky.  Those not killed outright by the explosion were buried alive under collapsing buildings.

Rashal struggled to keep his ‘Mech upright as dust from the crumbled buildings and black, oily smoke from the Wasp swirled around outside his cockpit.  Martyr’s blood, he thought, Hassan’s SRM’s had detonated!  But, there had been no weapons fire, nothing on his scanners, nothing at all that could have done THAT.

Two more explosions ripped into the Flea less than sixty meters away from him.  These explosions were around the knees of the twenty-ton ‘Mech, and he watched with horror as the blocky main chassis of Carmine’s ‘Mech simply dropped, then hit the ground—hard—and rolled twice before stopping in front of her still upright lower legs!  Shaped charges.  HAND PLACED SHAPED CHARGES.  That means anti-‘Mech infantry; time to get the HELL out of. . . .

“Hello.  Thank you for leaving this hatch open.  It made my job so much easier.  If you wish to die now, I promise it will be quick and relatively painless—otherwise shut this machine down and climb out here.”

As Rashal looked up, he saw a gun barrel pointed right at his head.  Behind the gun—holding the gun—was a soldier.  His helmet and visor completely covered his head, dressed in black camouflage body armor, and . . . and wearing a sword across his back?!?

”Now, now, I know you must understand League Standard English,” the voice was guttural—electronically altered, so that any who heard it would not know whether a man or woman spoke, and could not recognize the voice later.  “If you do not, well then as we say in all those old movies, ‘So Sorry.’”

Rashal’s hands shot up into the air, “I surrender.  I surrender, don’t shoot.”

“So hard to find good help these days, is it not, Merc?  Climb out.  Now, please.”

*****************************************************************************

Stephen, Gerald, Thom and the nineteen insurgents still able to fight watched the amazing events unfold in front of them.  First the Wasp’s ammo blew and the resulting explosion collapsed the nearby buildings.  What Rimmers were left alive had been buried beneath all that rubble.  The Stinger took the brunt of the explosion erupting from the back of the Wasp; its pilot likely dead, and only its right arm stood above the mangled heap of concrete and steel.  THEN, two sharp new explosions, and the upper half of one of the Flea’s just FELL, leaving two lonely legs standing in the middle of a cloud of dust and smoke.

What the hell, Stephen thought, peering over the barrier of rubble that his team had built in front of the old building.  Turning his head, he looked at Gerald, who seemed as stunned as he was.

“Lord Cameron?”  The voice came from a loudspeaker two blocks away.  “I wish to approach under a flag of truce; I will be alone, but certainly not unarmed.  Please, sir, do not shoot, for I wish to speak with you.”

Gerald spoke up, “Just cover the street, boys.  Let’s see what these people want.  Hold your fire, until I fire.”

Stephen nodded, and Thom yelled out, “Come on then.  But come slowly—and only one.”

“Agreed.”

From one of the surviving buildings near where the Rim Worlds forces had been assembling, a person dressed in black camouflage armor walked out into the street, the fires providing only flickering light in the early morning hours.  He was wearing a sword across his back, a pistol in a shoulder holster, and a sub-machine gun strapped across his chest, barrel pointed at the ground before him.  In his right arm, he held a helmet, the visor made from one-way armor plexi.  Crossing the rubble quickly and efficiently, he made his way toward Stephen’s redoubt, and stopped five meters away.

“Lord Cameron, my name is Sho-sa Hiroyoshi Tanaka, commanding officer Draconis Elite Strike Team Six, in service to my Lord Minoru Kurita, and the Draconis Combine.”  The tall, young officer bowed slowly, and then straightened once more.  “You have my sincerest apologizes for our late arrival, my Lord, it was necessary that the enemy ‘Mechs be committed before our presence could be revealed.”

“Sho-sa Tanaka?  Of the COMBINE?”

“Yes, my Lord.  Oh, the Rim Worlders have not passed along the news it would seem.  My Lord Kurita has declared war upon the Usurper who now sits upon the Throne of Terra.  The reasons for this are many, and not subject to discussion at this time; but my Lord Cameron, he has pledged himself and his forces to your General Kerensky and is coordinating with him.”

Stephen felt a tremendous weight lift from his shoulders, and his knees buckled as Thom caught him and kept him upright.

“My team is part of a pre-invasion reconnaissance and sabotage force that landed two weeks ago, Lord Cameron.  In fact, I have spoken with Admiral Matasuke not an hour ago.  He and his forces are in orbit, and the first wave has already begun to land to commence the liberation of Asta.”

“My Lord Kurita has requested that I find you, this ‘last Cameron’.  And that I bring you before him,” he said, bowing once more.

master arminas Re: Kerensky and Kurita « Reply #48 on: May 30, 2008, 09:39:59 AM »

Thanks for the help, everyone.  Just want to make sure my facts are kind-of-sort-of right and not have to be explained as element handwavium-007.

Takiro Re: Kerensky and Kurita « Reply #49 on: May 30, 2008, 11:53:13 AM »

This is a pretty cool little novel ya got going here master arminas. Really enjoying myself.  Nice job.

MechRat Re: Kerensky and Kurita « Reply #50 on: May 30, 2008, 12:04:50 PM »

Woo hoo! Keep it going! I'm lovin' this! Grin A great read.

Ice Hellion Re: Kerensky and Kurita « Reply #51 on: May 30, 2008, 01:51:59 PM »

Icey friend.

Icey? Should I really become an Ice Hellion and react over this? 

the old 42nd CAAN

Are you sure about this Regiment?

master arminas Re: Kerensky and Kurita « Reply #52 on: May 30, 2008, 01:55:52 PM »

Nope.  Not sure at all.  If if doesn't exist at the time of the Coup, then it must have been disbanded--possibly after the same action where Stephen lost his leg.   Cool  By the way, I picked 42nd because of Falkenberg's Legion (his old CD Regiment), as something of a homage to those who wrote before us.

master arminas Re: Kerensky and Kurita « Reply #53 on: May 30, 2008, 02:12:33 PM »

If anyone can answer this, it would be great.  What Terran Hegemony worlds did NOT fall to Amaris?  The SLSB says--I think--that five worlds held out and were not taken.  What were they?

LordGrayson Re: Kerensky and Kurita « Reply #54 on: May 30, 2008, 02:22:32 PM »

I only know of one and thats Carver V is the only one I know of home of the star league marines Stand against the RWR

Takiro Re: Kerensky and Kurita « Reply #55 on: May 30, 2008, 05:07:17 PM »

Inside the Hegemony
1. Carver V is one for certain, the only one that canon spells out how it remained free. Marines there held out with resupply mission from Eridani Light Horse till liberated by the SLDF.

2. Northwind is one I have theorized. Pretty confident Amaris didn't touch it. There is no evidence he did one and that kind of makes sense.The Highlanders are the reason why and fears that an attack on their homeworld might bring the Capellan Confederation down upon him like a brick s***house.  Wink

The following worlds are pure BTSD and not endorsed in anyway by canon, but there is no evidence they were taken by Amaris. Information can be found in Fanbook 2 - Project Phoenix and on UNR.

3. Castor. Successfully defended by paranoid denizens
4. Dieudonne. Shared Marik world, seized by FWL during Coup
5. Callison. Shared Marik world, seized by FWL during Coup
6. Dubhe. Shared Marik world, seized by FWL during Coup
7. Wing. Shared Marik world, seized by FWL during Coup

Thinking Outside The Box
Remember the Terran Hegemony had many shared planets scattered throughout the InnerSphere thanks to its terraforming projects. The most notable of these being Hesperus II which is referred to as a small or moderate sized factory world at this time. We know from the theft of the BattleMech by Lyran operatives the Hegemony had a major base there. There is no indication that Amaris ever seized Hesperus or any of these Outer Worlds.

blacktigeractual Re: Kerensky and Kurita « Reply #56 on: June 01, 2008, 08:01:54 AM »

Nope.  Not sure at all.  If if doesn't exist at the time of the Coup, then it must have been disbanded--possibly after the same action where Stephen lost his leg.   Cool  By the way, I picked 42nd because of Falkenberg's Legion (his old CD Regiment), as something of a homage to those who wrote before us.

Great stuff there (Falkenburg's Legion)

master arminas Re: Kerensky and Kurita « Reply #57 on: June 02, 2008, 10:09:15 AM »

August 1, 2767
Industrial District, Hawkins
North Continent, Asta
Empire of Amaris (Terran Hegemony)

Gerald bristled off to one side of Stephen, and spoke, “Bring him before the Coordinator?  Just like that, huh, Sho-sa?  Lord Cameron is going nowhere without his security detail.”

Muttering among the insurgents began, as the men considered the position they were in—and the many possibilities of treachery in Sho-sa Tanaka’s bald statement.

The tall, young officer raised his hand—his empty hand—and bowed again slightly.  â€œPerhaps I used the wrong words; if so I beg of you your pardon.”  Turning his head back towards Stephen, Hiroyoshi continued, “My Lord Kurita spoke with me a short time ago, my Lord Cameron.  He spoke personally to me, and instructed me in this matter HIMSELF.  I am to treat you as I would treat HIM, and I am to protect you and your person from all threats as though I were charged with protecting the Dragon himself.  This request—and it is a request, my Lord Cameron—comes from my Lord Kurita wishing to meet the man who may well be the next First Lord of the Star League.”

“And, of course, your security detail may accompany you.  In whatever numbers you wish,” he said, turning his head back to Gerald.

As Stephen, Gerald, and Hiroyoshi continued to speak, Toby—Tobias—Harrison looked around the wasteland that this industrial park had become during the night.  Even now, dawn was breaking over the bay to the east.  Smoke arose from a hundred fires burning within Hawkins, and it depressed him to see this happen to his world.  I shamed Gramps last night, he thought, reacting as he had when those other explosions began.  And then again, in the fighting during the night and the early morning hours; he had frozen at first, until Lord Stephen had come over and said a few quiet words in his ear.  He couldn’t even remember the words—the night had seemed to go on forever.

Funny, it hadn’t been like Gramp’s stories at all.  There hadn’t been any glory anywhere to be found, just pain and death, and pure, raw ugliness.  And he had done things; things that would be with him forever.  Done those things over and over again, because he had to, to stay alive.  When that Rimmer had jumped into his firing pit, and he began struggling over the knife, and he stabbed him, again and again and again and again AND AGAIN!  He shuddered, and asked God how was he ever supposed to FORGET?

He had wanted to come—had begged his Dad and Gramps to let him.  It seemed like such an adventure, joining the First Lord himself on a quest to regain his throne!  Now, he knew they were right, when they had urged him not to.  But they let him.  They let him come with Lord Stephen, and now he was . . .  what?  Toby didn’t know other than he wasn’t exactly Toby anymore.  Might not ever be Toby again either.  He remembered his Gramps words to him, just before they left two weeks ago.  â€œToby,” he had said, “just remember this.  There are lot of things out there with a Y chromosome—but that don’t make ‘em no man.  A man takes responsibility for what he does, son.  Good, bad, everything in between.  He shoulders his burdens and he takes what he has coming.  You just keep your head on—and you remember that.  And that I am proud of you, my boy.  And come what may, you got a place to come back to, ya hear?  A place you can get your head back on straight.  That might not mean anything now, but one day it will.  Now, go on, before you make an old man cry.”

Cry, Toby thought.  He had done that last night.  He looked down at his hands, the dirty, bloody, hands and shook.  Will I ever be clean again?

A flash of light caught the corner of his eye and Toby didn’t hesitate—one night can sometimes be a lifetime, and last night he had learned a lot.  â€œSniper!” he yelled as he dove at Lord Stephen.

*****************************************************************************

“Sho-sa Tanaka, thank you for clearing that up, my detail is—understandably—on a bit of a short fuse at the moment,” Stephen said, smiling, as he glanced at Gerald, who still did not look happy.

“At the moment, however, we have a number of wounded, and not anywhere nearly enough medical supplies . . .”

“Of, course, my Lord Cameron, if you will allow my men to render assistance, I have several that are trained in field medical care?”

Stephen nodded, and Hiroyoshi quietly spoke into the small microphone along his right cheek.  Six men in the same type of camouflage armor as Hiroyoshi ran past them into the building, then down the stairs.  Others began spreading out throughout the rubble, looking for Rim Words survivors.  When they found one, they did not pull out their medical kits nor did they waste ammunition—a sword worked just as well for treating THOSE particular wounded as a gun would have.

“Have you had any word since your invasion force landed, Sho-sa?”

“Yes, my Lord Cameron.  Fifteen regiments commanded by General Samasov—six of them ‘Mech units—landed in three drop zones, surrounding the capital.  He was hoping to draw the Rims Worlds forces out to spare your civilians any additional casualties, but with the entire city rising up last night,” Hiroyoshi shrugged, “that course of action may no longer be possible.  As of thirty minutes ago, he was pushing his advance forces into the city itself to engage the Rim Worlders as fast as he can.  If the schedule he gave me still holds, your SLDF 3rd Regimental Combat Team will be landing within the next hour, along with the remainder of General Samasov’s assault wave.”

“I knew that some Rim forces were being pulled away, but how many civilians rose up last night?”

“One of the other resistance groups let slip your name on radio traffic after you got pinned down.  After that, the people of Hawkins just poured into the streets.  I would estimate nearly fifteen thousand of your citizens here have taken up arms and are fighting the Rim troops across the city.”

Gerald whistled.

“Yes, they saved your life when they did that, my Lord Cameron, by diverting the Rim leaders from sending enough troops to finish you off.  And that also let ME know where to find you.”  Hiroyoshi’s face broke into a smile.  â€œWhich saved your life, yet again, my Lord.  You really should avoid placing yourself in such a bad position as this.”

Gerald grimaced.  â€œWe’re working on that, Sho-sa.  Working on it hard.”

Stephen grinned.  â€œNow, Top, I wasn’t that bad last night, was . . . “

“Sniper!” was shouted by someone, and Stephen’s world went black as he was slammed hard in the chest and hurled to the ground.

*****************************************************************************

The shot came at nearly the same moment as the shout.  Pandemonium ensued.  The DEST commandos and the insurgents both began pouring fire into the building where the muzzle flash came from.

Gerald and Hiroyoshi reached Stephen at the same time.  Toby had slammed him into the ground hard—he was unconscious and covered with blood.  â€œChrist,” whispered Gerald as the two began trying to find the wound.  There was none.  They looked at each other, and then at Toby, lying a few inches away.  He was sputtering and trying to speak, as his blood welled up from the cavity the bullet left as it entered his back and exited his chest.

“Medic, we need a medic!” yelled Hiroyoshi, as Gerald made certain Stephen was not wounded.  Hiroyoshi placed his hands over the wound, trying to stem the flow of blood, as Toby gasped for air.

Paul Geeler—electrician and part-time militia-man trained his SRM launcher on the building.  Snipe at my First Lord, will you, Rim-scum.  Well take this, he thought as he pulled the trigger once, then again.  Two SRM rockets sped out towards the building, trailing smoke and flame as they went.  Both rounds flew through the window where the shot had come, then the building exploded; shattering what glass that remained in the windows, and the entire building collapsed in cloud of concrete dust.

Hiroyoshi pressed one hand down—hard—on the wound on Toby’s chest, and with the other touched Toby’s face, an expression of sorrow on his own.  One of the DEST medics arrived and placed an injector against Toby’s neck; with a hiss morphine entered his blood stream.

Stephen shook his head, “Top?  What freight train hit me?”

“You’ll live, L.T., thank God.”  He stopped and looked away, “I don’t think Toby will though.  He took the bullet meant for you.”

Stephen crawled over to the young man, his head still spinning from hitting the rubble.

“Toby, son, what . . . “

Toby, was still gasping, but his pain was slowly receding, as he looked up at Stephen.  â€œI saw.  Sunlight.  On his.  Scope.  Can’t.  Let these.  People.”  He groaned.  â€œShoot you.  Sir.”

The DEST medic was working frantically trying to stem the bleeding, but shaking his head.

“Tell.  Tell Gramps.”  Toby swallowed hard.  â€œI.  I did.  My best.  Tried.  Make him.  Proud.”

“I will, son, and he is proud.  So am I.” Stephen said, as tears filled his eyes.  â€œYour whole family is proud, Toby; you did good tonight, boy.  Real good.”

“Sir.  I’m.  Scared.   Sir.”  Toby was beginning to breathe more raggedly, hyper-ventilating, even as the narcotics began to smooth more of the pain away.

“Do you know the 23rd Psalms, son?”  Toby nodded his head as his body shook and he kept trying to swallow.  â€œThen let’s recite together.”

“The Lord is my Shepherd, I shall not want.  He makes me lie down in green pastures, he leads me besides still waters, he restores my soul.  He guides me in paths of righteousness for his names sake.  Even though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil, for you are with me; your rod and your staff, they comfort me.”

Toby gasped for breath, and groaned as pain returned for moment, and then he raggedly continued, “You prepare a table before me in the presence of my enemies.  You anoint my head with oil; my cup overflows.  Surely goodness and mercy will follow me all the days of my life,” Toby’s voice trailed off and his chest stopped moving, and Stephen softly finished, “and I will dwell in the house of the Lord forever.”

Stephen stopped and sat up, tears running down his face, as Hiroyoshi took his hands away from the boy.  The medic checked for a pulse and shook his head, then closed the boy’s eyes and placed a bloody, torn jacket over Toby’s face.

*****************************************************************************

“He saved two lives, this morning, my Lord Cameron, that young man did,” Hiroyoshi said softly a few minutes later after they had moved the body into the basement with the others—to lie beside a brother, a cousin, and an uncle.

“How so, Hiroyoshi?”

“Yours, of course, and mine as well.  I owe that young man a dept of honor, one that will be called upon as needed by his family and mine shall answer.”

Stephen looked up.  He had forgotten that those who protected the Coordinator would often give their own lives if they failed in their duty to protect him.  Hiroyoshi nodded, “I would have brought shame upon my family for failing in the charge given me.  Such things can only be cleansed one way, my Lord Cameron.”

“When this is over, Hiroyoshi, I will introduce you to his family.  What’s left of them, at least.”

“The fault is not yours, my Lord.  I have spoken with others in your gallant little band, including the three relatives of ‘Toby’ that survived.  He chose to come with you; and we would be mourning much more if he had not.”

“I will have Gerald and Thom as my detail, Hiroyoshi.  The rest of the resistance fighters should return to their families.  Let’s go meet your Coordinator.”

master arminas Re: Kerensky and Kurita « Reply #58 on: June 02, 2008, 10:11:49 AM »

Good morning, all.

Just want to let you know that I spent the weekend editing the story for problems with the structure and style.  These edits have been posted--the originals have been modified.  It does change a few things, but nothing that would affect the overall story arc.  Read them if you wish, otherwise, I will have another new post later on this week.

Takiro Re: Kerensky and Kurita « Reply #59 on: June 02, 2008, 11:54:54 AM »

Great, I really can't wait to see the whole thing. Do you have an end vision in mind for this story?

MechRat Re: Kerensky and Kurita « Reply #75 on: June 05, 2008, 12:06:17 PM »

master arminas,

This is developing into a very riveting and wonderful story. I only hope that once it is finished you will condense these posts into one complete file. It will be a story that I will read again and again. 

blacktigeractual Re: Kerensky and Kurita « Reply #76 on: June 06, 2008, 06:31:08 AM »

This is developing into a very riveting and wonderful story. I only hope that once it is finished you will condense these posts into one complete file. It will be a story that I will read again and again.

Hear, Hear...Easily a professional level work.

master arminas Re: Kerensky and Kurita « Reply #77 on: June 06, 2008, 09:20:29 AM »

August 8, 2767
Industrial District, Hawkins
North Continent, Asta
Terran Hegemony

The well groomed man stood in front of the piles of rubble, stained in places with clumps of reddish brown.  He was dressed casually, but his khaki field jacket had never come from a government warehouse; his combat boots alone would have cost most soldier’s a months pay.  His crew were assembled before him, making certain the lighting was correct; when they nodded, he spoke, “OK, then, let’s do this.”

The powerful lights on the camera turned on and the man picked up the slender microphone in his right hand.

“This is Brian Hopkins, reporting for Interstellar News Network, broadcasting from the planet Asta in the Terran Hegemony.  Over seven months ago, all of us learned that Stefan Amaris had assassinated the First Lord of the Star League and laid claim to the worlds of Terran Hegemony.  His troops—in a brilliant and ruthless stroke of planning and foresight—were positioned throughout the Hegemony worlds.  They quickly overpowered what little defenses the SLDF Army had left behind as it fought the uprising in the Periphery states.  Asta was one of those worlds.  And it remained under the heel of Amaris and his brutal followers until one week ago today.  Coordinator Minoru Kurita—leader of the Draconis Combine—led a combined strike force of his troops and Star League soldiers of the Regular Army and retook this world in less than two days of campaigning.”

“The people of Asta greatly suffered under the cruel tyrant; official estimates—and estimates are all we may ever have—are that nearly 400,000 citizens of this jewel of the Hegemony were killed or wounded during the occupation.  I learned—soon after I landed with the MechWarrior’s of Company E, 2nd Battalion, 3rd Galedon Regulars taking part in the first assault wave—that the Astan’s had fought the Usurper with a guerilla-style insurgency.  And that this; in part; accounted for the terrible losses they suffered.  But only today have I learned the reason behind their uprising against the troops and the ‘Mechs and the other war machines of their occupiers.  The reason that Amaris sent over a dozen regiments of his best troops to this pristine, undeveloped world.”

“A Cameron of the ruling line was alive and well on this planet following the Coup.”  Hopkins paused and nodded.  â€œStephen James Cameron, 73rd in line of succession to First Lord Richard Cameron—a distant cousin of our slain First Lord—had chosen to spend that fateful holiday season alone with his wife and daughter, here on Asta.  He escaped the murder that Amaris committed against all other living members of his family on Terra, and eluded the assassins sent after him by the Rim Worlds forces for over eight months.  A true Cameron, he then led insurgents on attacks against the occupation forces, preventing the Rim World forces from carrying out their threat to saturation bomb the entire planet.  When the Star League and Combine forces arrived to liberate this world, Stephen Cameron was engaged in a fire-fight, right here, on this spot, with Rim Worlds forces.”

“Today, here, in this war-torn district of Hawkins—the capital city of Asta—Stephen James Cameron will take upon himself his inheritance, and the duties of the First Lord.  He will then address the people of Asta; indeed, all people throughout the Inner Sphere immediately following the ceremony.  ISNN will cover the coronation and address, in its entirety.   This is Brian Hopkins, reporting, from liberated Asta, in the Terran Hegemony.”

*****************************************************************************

“But, it hasn’t been done in over two hundred years, my Lord!”  Alistair Fairbanks whined at Stephen, as Marianne adjusted his hastily-tailored suit.  Stephen repressed a sigh—he had been doing THAT a lot, recently—and considered his answer.  Fairbanks was the newly sworn in Governor of Asta—the old Governor, his deputy, and most of the Assembly had been shot in the first week after the Amaris troops took the planet.  Fairbanks had survived, and with Asta liberated, the former Assembly whip had popped up from hiding to become its newest governor.  That would hold until the next election only; already Astan’s who knew the man were talking about a recall.  He had only held the office for four hours now!  And the man had been whining to Stephen for the past two and a half of that.

“Governor Fairbanks, I know that no one since Ian Cameron has done this.  I even know why they have not.  But I will.  Since it seems to bother you so much, feel free not to attend.”

As Fairbanks began to sputter and gasp, Stephen continued, “In fact, Governor, why don’t you just go on home.  Now.”

Thom stepped up to one side of the man and touched his arm, “Sir, if you would follow me.”  He motioned towards the door, leading the man out before he could recover enough breath to argue still more.

Marianne jerked his ascot slightly and smiled at him as she smoothed it out.  â€œI thought you would do that two hours ago, love.  You must be mellowing in your old age.”

“I tuned him out, quite some time ago, dearest.  I was thinking about you last night—you know you are still as beautiful to me as the day I married you?”

“Bet you say that to all the girls, soldier-boy.  They love you long time?”

“Only you, Marianne, only you.  â€˜Til death do us part, remember?”

She placed her arms around his neck and kissed him—deeply and longingly.  â€œKnock their socks off, lover,” she said, stepping back and nodding at him in approval.  She and Cassie would be sitting in the hastily erected VIP stands—Heather and her detail providing cover.  He had wanted her to stand with him on the stage; but she said no.  This was his moment, now that he had his bearings; this was his time.

Hiroyoshi cleared his throat, “Two minutes, my Lord Cameron, my Lady Cameron.”

*****************************************************************************

As Stephen stepped out onto the stage built this morning, he could FEEL the thunder of applause from the nearly one hundred thousand Astan’s who had assembled here from across the planet.  Here at this little section of asphalt and concrete where he had nearly died seven days earlier; where Toby had given his life so that Stephen might live.  He thought it fitting—to Toby, to the seventeen others who gave their lives at this spot, to the tens of thousands who had fought—to hold the ceremony on this hallowed ground.  It had been originally scheduled for the Planetary Capital—all clean and sparkling.  But last night he had changed the venue; over the objections of everyone but Marianne.  No, this felt RIGHT.

As he walked to the podium, he could see Justice Morrow waiting, in his formal black magisterial robes, holding in his hands a Bible.  The eighty-four year old Morrow was one of seven Justices who sat on the Star League’s Supreme Court—and the holiday break in their deliberations had found him returned home, here to Asta.  Whether any of the other Justices were alive or dead, Stephen had no clue.  He stepped up to the Justice and took a deep breath, then reached out and accepted the hand that was offered him, and shook it.

“God bless, son.  And good luck,” the old man whispered.

Stephen nodded, trying to swallow, as the crowd—interspaced with soldiers, Terran and Combine both—continued to applaud.

Morrow turned to the podium and held up his hands; slowly the crowd quieted.  Then, he turned to Stephen.

“Raise your right hand and place your left upon the book you have chosen.”

Stephen stepped up and did so.

“Repeat after me . . . I,”

“I, Stephen James Cameron, do solemnly swear, upon the book of faith in which I have trust, before God and Man, witnesses both near and far, that I will execute the office of Director-General of the Terran Hegemony.  That without reservation or evasion, I take upon myself, the Duty, to the best of my ability, to preserve, protect, and defend the Grand Charter of the Hegemony and the People who are its greatest treasure.  So help me God,” Stephen finished, as the crowd erupted once more, the cameras of a dozen news agencies catching everything on disk.

“So help you God,” said Morrow.  He leaned over close to Stephen and whispered, “I will pray for you, boy.  I will.”

Then Morrow shook his hand again and made his way off the stage.

*****************************************************************************

It took fifteen minutes for the thunderous applause to die away.  Fifteen minutes, standing in the light, watching his people cheer.  Cheering not for him, precisely, for the idea that the Grand Charter stood, the idea that had founded the Star League—and since faded to nearly nothing.  You are only mortal, he thought.  Flesh and blood, and he looked across the crowd, finally spotting the only two faces who really mattered.  And then, as it grew silent once more, he began.

“No Cameron in two centuries has taken the Oath I swore today.  Not since Ian Cameron presided over the founding of the Star League and my family decided that that was to be our legacy.  But, we began centuries before that, when James McKenna wrote the Grand Charter and became our first Director-General.  Since then, we have changed many parts, but this has always been true; without the people of the Hegemony, the Hegemony does not exist.  Without the Hegemony there can be no League.  And without the League, there would only be war, unending war, relentless and total war.”

“Now, in the darkest hour of our time, I once again take the title of Director-General.  I have sworn the same oath that James McKenna himself penned before he solemnly swore it.  And I give you this promise—that when the Hegemony has been liberated, and Stefan Amaris brought to justice for the crimes he has committed, I will stand to a vote, as the Grand Charter intended.  The people of the Hegemony, the people of Asta and Terra and New Earth and Dieron and Caph and Northwind and one hundred and twenty-six other worlds will determine if I am to remain as their leader in a free and fair election.”

“I assume the mantle of First Lord, given to the Cameron line at the signing of the League Accords nearly two hundred years ago.  While I have not yet been confirmed by the Council Lords, they have agreed to assemble here in four months time.  My family has done many great things—and many poor things.  We—and the leaders of all the Great Houses—wrote the documents that guide us.  And that we promptly ignored.  We created the situation where Amaris could achieve what he has done by failing to do our duty to the laws we had made.  We place tax burdens upon our brothers and sister in the Periphery that the people of Asta would never willingly pay, and yet do not give them a voice in Council.”

“After all, they are only Territorial States.  Not full Member Nations.  We had to conquer them, and it cost us twenty years and nearly one hundred million lives to do so.  And ever since, we demand more and more from them, until they are being crushed beneath the weight of us.  For what reason did we do this?  Greed.”

“GREED!  We wanted more, we wanted their prosperity, their ingenuity; we wanted their souls.  And we sucked them dry.  Amaris can not, and WILL NOT, excuse his actions because of our bad dealings.  But neither does it make those dealings right.  It may be too late to change our course, but my tenure as First Lord will make the attempt.  I intend to offer full Member Nation status to the Territorial States of the Outworlds Alliance, the Magistracy of Canopus, and the Taurian Concordat.  They will pay the same taxes as we do.  They will have the same VOICE that WE do.  And I intend to grant them full voting privileges in Council.”

“This will be a long, bloody war to retake our worlds, and rescue our brothers and sisters, our fathers and mothers, our human family that resides on occupied ground.  But we will not falter in this.  Already, General Kerensky is reducing Amaris’s homeland, stopping the flow of supplies, manpower, and equipment to the Usurper sitting upon the Throne of Terra, in the Court of the Star League.  Volunteers have already stepped forward to serve.  More arrive daily.  Men and material are flowing in numbers never before seen as throughout the Inner Sphere, people—OUR PEOPLE—choose to gallantly risk their own lives to save others whom they have never even met.”

“But what of the leaders of the Five Great Houses?  What of them?”

“Minoru Kurita has stood beside me.  Four days ago, we shook hands in conference; he is committed for the duration.  His nation is committed, and for that we are eternally thankful.  The Dragon has come to our defense, and he shall be honored.”

“The others wait.  Some have had difficulties in the past with my family; others with General Kerensky; some with our policies.  But they wait, and while they wait people are dying.  The Star League itself is dying.”

“Fifty years from now, when your grand-children ask you this—Where were you, when the League fell?—what will your answer be?  When war and rumor of war are constant and your people suffer in anguish—what will your answer be?”

“John Davion, in your grand palace on New Avalon.  Where were YOU, when the League fell?  Where were YOU, when the Pope was tortured and made a martyr of YOUR faith, by faithless men in service to Amaris?  When your people cried out to rescue their brothers and sisters held in bondage.  John Davion, WHERE WERE YOU?”

“Robert Steiner, in your cold halls of Tharkad.  Where were YOU, when the League fell?  Where were YOU, when Summer was taken, and Victoria Steiner, that grand old dame of film, your own cousin, was forced to make pornography for the wretched villains who eagerly follow Amaris.  Robert Steiner, WHERE WERE YOU?”

“Kenyon Marik, in your mountain fortress of Atreus.  Where were YOU, when the League fell?  Where were YOU, when your people demanded their Captain-General lead?  Where were YOU when the people of the Hegemony begged for your help?  Kenyon Marik, WHERE WERE YOU?”

“Barbara Liao, in your rich estates on Sian.  Where were YOU, when the League fell?  Where were YOU, when barbarism rose up and swallowed Terra?   When the brothers and sisters of your own Highland Regiments were slaughtered as they tried to defend their First Lord; and the Black Watch fell.  Barbara Liao, WHERE WERE YOU?”

“And you, each of you out there.  Where were you, this day?  And what answer will you give—fifty years hence, to the little boy or girl asking that question?”

“Some have tried to call me heroic, for what I did here, at this place we stand today.  I am not.  I had no choice—my hand was forced, for if I did not fight, I would have died, and my family with me.  You have a choice.  Each of you has a choice.  And I am asking—begging—for your help.  I can not do it alone.  Not even with Kerensky and Kurita.  This is something that must be done by us all, so that in the end we can keep our souls—and be the men and women that we want to be.  That we can be.  THAT WE SHOULD BE.”

“Right there, right next to those cameras, a stain lies upon the rubble.  That stain was left by the blood of a sixteen year old boy—Tobias Harrison—who gave his life taking a bullet meant for me.  He leapt between me and the sniper, and he died in my arms—on that very spot.  If you want a hero, there’s your hero.  You can be that hero.”

“As we get ready to go forth, we have much work to do.  Blood will be spilled and tears will be shed.  Families across the length and breadth of the Inner Sphere will mourn.  But we have always rolled up our sleeves and gone to work when we had to.  And now, we have to.  So I ask you, WILL YOU STAND WITH ME?  Or will you wait, until the play is done, and the curtain falls on civilization?  Finally, in the words of that ancient Terran philosopher—it’s time, and past time, let’s git ‘er done.”

And Stephen left the stage as the crowd exploded into thunderous ovation.

MechRat Re: Kerensky and Kurita « Reply #78 on: June 06, 2008, 12:02:41 PM »

wow... Shocked

to say anything more wouldn't begin to describe this adequately...

master arminas, if you don't put this together in one complete document when you are done, I certainly will. 

Takiro Re: Kerensky and Kurita « Reply #79 on: June 06, 2008, 12:26:18 PM »

Way ahead of you MechRat. I worked all day on it and got 52 pages of goodness that Master Arminas has come up with. It is a little bit too big to post here but I will keep a PDF for all those interested once the story is complete. Great work!

BTW, including the Kurita logo featured in TRO3075 which colored and used as a poor man's cover page for this work.

Two things for Master Arminas however.

1. Did you get my private message here on the forum? Wink

2. I must report an error in your work. Tis my fault for not noticing sooner and you can double check my double check if you like. Your story should be dated 2767 not 2766. The Amaris Coup kicked off in December 2766 so your story would be the following year 2767 which begins days after the takeover started. I apologize for not noticing sooner.

Keep up the great work. Smiley

master arminas Re: Kerensky and Kurita « Reply #80 on: June 06, 2008, 12:29:34 PM »

Takiro, I didn't.  But I will check it now.  Thanks for the correction--it should have read 2767.  Oops.  Guys, thanks for your wonderful comments.

Takiro Re: Kerensky and Kurita « Reply #81 on: June 06, 2008, 12:30:34 PM »

No, thank you for this wonderful piece of BattleTech fiction. A true work of art. Wink

MechRat Re: Kerensky and Kurita « Reply #82 on: June 06, 2008, 12:31:06 PM »

Way ahead of you MechRat.

Crud, one step behind again... :'(

52 pages of text so far? This story is worthy of publication once finished. Sign me up for the PDF! 

Ice Hellion Re: Kerensky and Kurita « Reply #83 on: June 06, 2008, 04:19:25 PM »

I am in too. 

GREED!  We wanted more, we wanted their prosperity, their ingenuity; we wanted their souls.  And we sucked them dry.

I do not think prosperity might be the word, maybe resource would be better.
The Periphery was known for being less rich than the Star League.

Keep on writing.

master arminas Re: Kerensky and Kurita « Reply #84 on: June 09, 2008, 09:35:31 AM »

August 12, 2767
Sea World, San Diego
North America, Terra
Empire of Amaris (Terran Hegemony)

General Luis Kraal nervously made his way across the metal platforms arrayed over the tops of the holding tanks.  He hated the ocean—and the creatures that dwelled in it.  But his Emperor had commanded, so here he was.  Ahead of him, Emperor Stefan stood on an elevated platform with his son, five-year old Khalid, feeding the sea-life that graced the symbol of his nation.  The Emperor had been delighted when he first saw these beasts, years before—Apollo had nothing like them, and films and computer files did not do them justice.  Now, as Emperor, he had access to this facility whenever he desired, and today was an educational lesson for the son and heir.

His aide, Major Wallace Chou, assisted Kraal as he climbed the last series of ladders to the platform.  Amaris’s personal guard watched both men closely as they climbed, though they knew both well.  A third man stood with the Emperor and his son—Colonel Gunthar von Strang, the Emperor’s preferred hatchetman and trouble-shooter, the commander of the 18th Amaris Chasseurs, the Death’s Head Regiment.  Kraal shuddered; he was not a man who spooked easily, but Gunthar von Strang frightened him.  Von Strang had no conscience—no soul, some said—he could just as easily celebrate with the guests at a party as he would kill everyone there on orders from his Imperial master.

At the edge of the platform, Kraal and his aide waited as Amaris—on one knee—spoke softly to his son, telling him all about the sharks swimming below.  As Kraal watched, the boy lifted a ladle from a bucket—a dripping, red-coated ladle filled with offal—and tossed its contents into the water.  When the chum hit, the sharks began to grow more and more agitated.  Stefan smiled and whispered something to the boy, who smiled back.  Then he noticed Kraal, and the smile vanished.

“Your Majesty!”  Kraal said, coming to attention and saluting; all moisture having fled his mouth, his heart pounding.

Amaris stood and walked over to him.

“General Kraal, my right arm, my trusted right arm, why have you failed me?”

“I . . . I, failed you, my Master?”  Kraal was freely sweating now.

“Did I not say that this last Cameron and his family must die, General?  Gunthar, I thought that I said that, eight months ago!”  His voice rose, until Amaris fairly screamed at Kraal.

“You did, your Majesty.”  von Strang smiled as he spoke, his face boyish and quite handsome; and Kraal began shaking more as Gunthar von Strang looked at him like one of those fish below would look upon their next meal.

Amaris stepped back.  â€œSo, General, why then is this IMPOSTER still living?  Why did our forces on Asta fail to prevent that bastard Kurita from taking the planet?  WHY?  Explain this to me.”

“Sire,” Kraal paused and tried to collect himself.  â€œSire, General Brakel was given the assignment, not I.  I have been here at your side, Sire.  Brakel failed you, your Majesty, and had he lived, he would have deserved your fury.  I . . .,” he took a deep breath and knelt, “I have a plan to eliminate this Cameron—and Minoru Kurita, most blessed and divine Majesty.”

Amaris stopped and smiled.  â€œA plan, Luis, my old friend?  Please, by all means, let us hear of it.”

“Your agent in the SLDF 3rd Regimental Combat Team has contacted us, Sire.  He has passed along information about the next operation Kurita is conducting.  Jinjiro Kurita—Minoru’s son and heir—will personally lead an assault on Amity to take place on September 25th.  He is drawing his invasion force from those Draconis and Star League troops on Asta—so neither will be as strong as the invasion that destroyed Brakel’s forces.”

“Amity?  Interesting.  Gunthar?”

“It is not fortified, my Master, there is no SDS in that system.  We have a single ‘Mech regiment and eight of conventional forces based upon the world.”  Turning to Kraal, he asked, “What strength will Jinjiro have?”

“According to his Imperial Majesty’s agent, forty-five regiments—nine of them ‘Mech, including two of the four SLDF regiments of the 3rd RCT, with half of their fleet to provide escort and transport.  This is half the number that took Asta—the rest will remain at Asta where Minoru and the last Cameron are waiting for a meeting of the Council.”

“Guard, get me Commodore Daragou on your sat-comm,” Amaris said.

One of Amaris’s guards set down the heavy back-pack satellite communications device he had been wearing, and began to place the call.

Amaris began pacing up and down the platform, smiling when he saw his son still pitching ladles of chum into the tank.

“Major Chou, is this information accurate?”

Kraal nearly panicked; Amaris asked his AIDE, not him?  His shaking increased.

“Yes, your Majesty.”

“Good.  Then you, General Chou will take and command fifteen regiments of ‘Mechs from the reserve here on Terra to Amity; Gunthar will assign them to you.  Bring me Jinjiro Kurita’s head, General Chou.”

Wallace Chou came to attention and saluted, then turned and left, leaving Kraal alone, with Amaris and his son, his guards, and Gunthar von Strang.

“My Lord, Commodore Daragou,” the guard said.

“Commodore,” Amaris spoke, taking the microphone.  â€œAre our newest ships ready for an excursion?”

Static filled the channel for a second, and then cleared.  â€œYes, your Majesty.  The ships and crews are ready.”

“Excellent, Commodore, most excellent.  Prepare a briefing for me for a counter-offensive against Asta, on or about the 25th of September, if you please, then Commodore.”

“What ground troops should I include in the operations plan, Sire?”

“Why, NONE, Commodore.  They will not be needed.  I simply want you to turn Asta into a charred piece of rock, with nothing living upon its surface.”

“Of course, Sire.  Then with your leave, may I begin planning the operation, your Majesty?”

“Yes, Commodore, you most certainly may.”

Amaris turned back to Kraal and smiled again.  Then he looked down at his son.  â€œKhalid, what should an Emperor do with those who fail him?”

The boy looked up.  â€œHurt them, father.  They fail you because they don’t love you enough.  And if they don’t love you enough, then they hate you.”

“Most correct, Khalid.  Such a darling boy, wouldn’t you say, Luis, my old friend?”

Kraal turned to run, but Gunthar von Strang was there, and a sudden shove thrust him into the open air over the tank.  Kraal felt a shock when he hit as the icy water enveloped him.

Stefan Amaris and his son Khalid, along with Colonel von Strang, stood watching as the hungry sharks ripped Luis Kraal to pieces; his screams echoing through the complex, as the water quickly turned to a frothy red.

master arminas Re: Kerensky and Kurita « Reply #85 on: June 09, 2008, 09:36:21 AM »

August 18, 2767
The White Palace, Avalon City
Continent Alpha, New Avalon
Federated Suns

John Davion stood leaning against the sill of the window in office, looking out over the bright morning sunshine.  Across the Square, the spires of St. Mark’s Cathedral rose into the air, as its bells tolled on this Sunday morning.  People moved about, enjoying the fine morning air, as they traveled on their business, unaware the First Prince of the Federated Suns watched.  His people, who owed him their fealty, but what did he owe them?  Questions, he had only questions, ever since that damned broadcast yesterday.  And too few answers were to be had.

The intercom on his desk buzzed.  Taking two steps he pressed the receive key, “Yes?”

“Your Highness, your Council is assembled in the conference room and waiting for you.”

“Thank you, Abigail, tell them I will be there momentarily.”

As he finished, he looked around his office once more—the same office where Lucien and Reynard and Alexander had in their time sat—the ‘Great Princes’ of the Davion line.  What would they do, he wondered?  Am I worthy to be in their company?  And then he strode from the office, his head inclined to the floor in thought.

*****************************************************************************

The Privy Council was assembled as it waited for the arrival of the First Prince.  The ministers—six men and four women—sat making small talk as they waited.  Finally, the door opened, and John Davion—First Prince of the Federated Suns—entered the room.  Saying a few pleasant greetings, he took his seat at the head of the table, and rapped the gavel twice—which automatically started the recording devices concealed within the massive table itself.

Then he spoke.

“This emergency meeting of the Privy Council of the Federated Suns is hereby called to order.  The first—and only piece of business for today is yesterday’s broadcast from Asta.  I open the table to comments.”

He looked at Finance, and she answered.  â€œThe economy is going strong; what with the stimulus packages you put in play after the Coup, Sire.  Entering this conflict will affect that.  I can’t say for certain, but it could have a negative impact on our economy.  My advice is to stay clear.”

Science and Education was next.  â€œMy Ministry has no bearing on this, but as a FedSuns citizen, Sire, we should avoid going to war.”

“Why?” asked John Davion.

“Sire, this is NOT our war.  It is an internal affair between Cameron and Amaris and Kerensky.  Even Kurita should not have been involved.  Simply put, your Highness, it is not our fight.”

“Agreed,” said the Minster of the Draconis Marches.  His bailiwick placed him continually at odds with House Kurita, and the people he represented were concerned with the Dragon.  â€œBesides, letting Cameron and Kurita go it alone will go a long way in reducing the Combine’s military strength, right Marshall?”

The Marshall of the Armed Forces of the Federated Suns—the AFFS—looked up, “Yes.  Besides, Sire, we aren’t ready.  We should wait, and watch, and if we see an opportunity, then take it.”

“You should consider your Highness that until the High Council meets and confirms either Amaris or Cameron as First Lord; the request he made in that broadcast yesterday has no LEGAL basis.  In point-of-fact, Stephen Cameron is NOT Director-General of the Hegemony; the argument could be made that he assumed that post in a fashion as illegal as Amaris’s Coup was,” Justice pointed out in her own serene, convoluted way.

“And for what purpose would be do that, Karen?” asked John Davion.

She smiled, “We all know that you were going to be Regent for Richard before Kerensky was pushed into accepting it.  We have the closest relationship of any of the Great Houses with the Cameron family.   If Stephen Cameron is found to have acted outside the scope of the law, then you, your Highness would become next in line to be First Lord.”

“I am not certain that the other Great Lords would agree,” said Foreign Affairs, “but we could certainly make the case that Cassandra—his daughter—be given to John to raise as her Regent while Stephen either went into exile or served time.”

The Minister of the Capellan March then spoke up, “It would be better to assume the Regency; many of our people would see superseding a living Cameron as presumptuous.”

“And we need to gather more information, Sire.  It appears that Kurita and Amaris have both greatly exceeded the agreed upon limits of their House forces.  My people are gathering that information now, but before we act at all, we need facts, not supposition,” Intelligence said.

John Davion held up a hand, and silence descended across the room.  He stood and began to pace.  â€œDidn’t any of you WATCH the damn broadcast yesterday?”

Administration spoke, “Yes, your Highness.  We all watched it.  But our first—and only concern—should be with the Federated Suns.  As should yours, Sire.”

“Stephen Cameron is just a beggar prince at the moment; of no political consequence, Prince John.  He is a passing moment in the footnotes of history,” voiced the Minister of the Crucis March.

“John, I served your father, and I have served you now for over a decade and a half.  The smart thing to do, my Lord, is to wait and watch.  Now, we will certainly give our aid to General Kerensky, you’ve already directed us to begin doing that both clandestinely and openly.  Star League ships and divisions have access to our bases and supplies, and Howard here has been giving them looks at our intel reports, right Howard?”

“Right, Marshall,” replied Intelligence.

“So, before we commit our troops—our citizens—to a long and bloody conflict, it just makes sense to determine all of the relevant facts.  That’s all we are saying, your Highness,” the Marshall concluded.

John Davion looked at the men and women of his Privy Council.  Men and women he had personally appointed to their posts.  He could see it written on their faces.  â€œI remember a Davion prince who was once nothing more than a beggar,” he said.  â€œHe is now remembered as our greatest leader ever.”

Justice scornfully said, “You can’t possible compare Stephen Cameron to Alexander Davion in any way, your Highness!”

John looked down at his hands and sat, heavily, in the chair which Lucien, Reynard, and Alexander had sat so many years before.  â€œI call the vote.  Shall the Federated Suns mobilize for war on behalf of the House of Cameron and the Star League?”

One by one, the ten men and women at the table voiced their vote—NO.  John nodded his head, “Ten nays—and one aye—the ayes are carried.”

He lifted his head, and fire glinted in his eyes are he looked at his Ministers; his friends; his family.  â€œI will expect your resignations on my desk by this time tomorrow.”

Chaos erupted as each Minister began speaking, and John slammed his open palm down on the table—hard.  A sharp CRACK sounded through the room, and the sound died away, as it grew quiet.

“I watched that address yesterday.  I LISTENED TO IT YESTERDAY.  You are all correct; the SMART thing for the Federated Suns is to wait.  BUT THAT IS NOT THE RIGHT THING!”  John stopped and sat back, a weary look on his face.

“This morning, I rose from sleep, and dressed and made my way to the breakfast nook.  I was behind schedule and late; my night had been troubled with dreams.  And when I entered the room, Amanda—MY DAUGHTER—asked, without knowing she echoed Stephen Cameron, ‘Daddy, where were you?  I’ve been waiting!’”

“Where were you, John Davion, where were you?  I could see her daughter or grand-daughter—fifty years from now—asking me that question.  It hit me then, just what Stephen Cameron was trying to say.  Don’t you people SEE THAT?  I can not, I will not, be the source of disappointment for daughter, my grand-daughter, my great-grand-daughter, or ANY of my people.  I will not dishonor those Davion’s who came before me by taking the easy course, instead of the right course.  And I will not dishonor myself, based upon your advice.”

John Davion stood and looked at the men and women in the room.  â€œI will have your resignations by tomorrow or I will publicly cashier each and every one of you.  We go to war, to support Cameron and Kerensky, and you either stand with me or you stand against me in this.  Now get the hell of out of my palace.”

Stunned, the former Ministers of State left the room, leaving John Davion alone, with the unseen spirits of his three great ancestors nodding their approval.

wolfcannon Re: Kerensky and Kurita « Reply #86 on: June 09, 2008, 10:18:02 AM »

   uhmm *claps hands*  wow *bows to a Damn fine writer*

Takiro Re: Kerensky and Kurita « Reply #87 on: June 09, 2008, 12:06:02 PM »

Silly Amaris, trix is for kids. Wink At this point I almost feel bad for the guy. Oh wait, forget about that. 

Ice Hellion Re: Kerensky and Kurita « Reply #88 on: June 09, 2008, 01:39:54 PM »

Great read.
The Amaris and Davion parts are what I would expect from Amaris and Davion.

What will happen in the other States?

master arminas Re: Kerensky and Kurita « Reply #89 on: June 09, 2008, 01:45:53 PM »

Patience, grasshopper, patience.

 

Ice Hellion
Contributor
Grand Champion
*****
Offline Offline

Posts: 3087

Part time builder of fallen Empires


View Profile WWW Email Personal Message (Offline)
   
   
Re: Kerensky and Kurita
« Reply #105 on: June 13, 2008, 02:38:30 PM »
   Reply with quoteQuote Modify messageModify Remove messageRemove Split TopicSplit Topic
I had forgotten about the SDS.

How many Dropships landed to deliver the Dragon's gift?
   Report to moderator   81.56.118.167 (?)


In Turn they tested each Clan namesake in trial against the Ice Hellion's mettle. Each chased the Ice Hellion, hunting it down. All failed to match the predator's speed and grace. Khan Cage smiled and said, "And that is how we shall be."

The Remembrance (Clan Ice Hellion) Passage 5, Verse 3, Lines 1 - 5
master arminas
Contributor
Champion
*****
Offline Offline

Posts: 664


View Profile Email Personal Message (Offline)
   
   
Re: Kerensky and Kurita
« Reply #106 on: June 13, 2008, 03:50:07 PM »
   Reply with quoteQuote Modify messageModify Remove messageRemove Split TopicSplit Topic
Nine Mule class cargo ships.  That's 36 Dragon's each--call it 2,880 tons with transportation containers.  That leaves over 2,000 tons per ship for infantry weapons, armor, equipment, supplies, munitions, etc.

That look right?

Arminas tar Valantil
Grand Master of the Ebon Rose
   Report to moderator   131.95.113.77 (?)
Takiro
Administrator
Avatar
*****
Online Online

Posts: 5060

digitdoger
View Profile Email Personal Message (Online)
   
   
Re: Kerensky and Kurita
« Reply #107 on: June 13, 2008, 04:32:20 PM »
   Reply with quoteQuote Modify messageModify Remove messageRemove Split TopicSplit Topic
I hear ya. If you'd like ask the opinion of those on CBT if it was or could have been available. I'm enjoying your story very much. Sorry for the nitpick.
   Report to moderator   71.190.242.132 (?)


"It is better to be thought a fool, than open your mouth and remove all doubt."
    U. S. Grant

"Don't think about what I say, cause I don't."
   John Luther
master arminas
Contributor
Champion
*****
Offline Offline

Posts: 664


View Profile Email Personal Message (Offline)
   
   
Re: Kerensky and Kurita
« Reply #108 on: June 13, 2008, 04:35:34 PM »
   Reply with quoteQuote Modify messageModify Remove messageRemove Split TopicSplit Topic
De nada, Takiro, my man.

It's all cool--or ICEY--as you might say.   Grin

I really appreciate having feedback, so thanks.  All of you.

Arminas tar Valantil
Grand Master of the Ebon Rose
   Report to moderator   131.95.113.77 (?)
Ice Hellion
Contributor
Grand Champion
*****
Offline Offline

Posts: 3087

Part time builder of fallen Empires


View Profile WWW Email Personal Message (Offline)
   
   
Re: Kerensky and Kurita
« Reply #109 on: June 14, 2008, 10:02:05 AM »
   Reply with quoteQuote Modify messageModify Remove messageRemove Split TopicSplit Topic
Quote from: master arminas on June 13, 2008, 04:35:34 PM
It's all cool--or ICEY--as you might say.   Grin

 Roll Eyes

Your numbers are correct (except for the rest of the cargo as a Mule can transport a little more than 8,000 tons).
So we have enough 'Mechs for a Brigade and enough weapons and armour I guess for two Mechanised Infantry Brigades.
This would make a good Mechanised Infantry Division  (without its support elements).

I would have rather given a BattleMech division, the punch of the SLDF.
   Report to moderator   81.56.118.167 (?)


In Turn they tested each Clan namesake in trial against the Ice Hellion's mettle. Each chased the Ice Hellion, hunting it down. All failed to match the predator's speed and grace. Khan Cage smiled and said, "And that is how we shall be."

The Remembrance (Clan Ice Hellion) Passage 5, Verse 3, Lines 1 - 5
master arminas
Contributor
Champion
*****
Offline Offline

Posts: 664


View Profile Email Personal Message (Offline)
   
   
Re: Kerensky and Kurita
« Reply #110 on: June 16, 2008, 09:14:19 AM »
   Reply with quoteQuote Modify messageModify Remove messageRemove Split TopicSplit Topic
September 1, 2767
Branson House, Hawkins
North Continent, Asta
Terran Hegemony

General Aleksandyr Kerensky stepped out from the armored hover transport that had met him and his staff at the spaceport.  He nodded, seeing the alert men and women of the Eridani on the perimeter looking outwards—towards possible threats, not him.  Good troops; he thought, concentrating on their job instead of him.  Not everyone in the SLDF was so disciplined—a fault he had tried hard to correct over the last twenty-five years.  Watching him—and his staff—disembark from the transport were a dozen or so armed men and women; including four wearing Kurita uniforms.  DEST commandoes, he remembered from the briefing on the way down.  Lord Minoru had assigned the remnants of a full strike team to Lord Stephen’s security detail.  And THEY, and the other security personnel, were observing him closely.  Good.  A little paranoia was useful in protective security forces; he approved heartily of it.

The journey had taken only nine days, thanks to the command circuit Lord Minoru had laid in; though his staff had nearly had a fit of apoplexy when he announced he would be making the trip on the Combine ships.  Even with her lithium-fusion batteries, it would have taken the better part of two-and-a-half months for the McKenna to make the same voyage.   So, instead, he and his staff boarded his command DropShip—the Borodino—and transferred to Combine vessels at each waypoint.  A task force built around the McKenna was following at their best speed, carrying a full strength Corps of troops.  But he had not time to waste.  No, I must meet this man, my new First Lord.  Meet him and make my own judgment of his capacity.

Colonel Bradley, the 3rd RCT’s commanding officer, stood waiting for him at the base of the steps.  Kerensky casually returned the salute the officer sharply cast his direction, as a master sergeant commanding a detail to one side announced, “Commanding General, arriving!”, his troops snapping to attention and presenting their weapons in a flawless display of ceremonial drill.

“Colonel Bradley, a most impressive greeting,” Kerensky said.

“Thank you, sir.  If you will follow me, please, General, the First Lord is waiting inside.”

*****************************************************************************

“First Lord Stephen Cameron, may I introduce to you Aleksandyr Kerensky, Commanding General of the Star League Defense Forces,” said Colonel Bradley.

Stephen stood from behind the massive—and hurriedly cleaned—desk.  Not a scrap of paper was to be seen in the office and the wood work shone.  He walked around and extended his hand towards Kerensky as he took stock.  About Lord Minoru’s age, he thought, considering the man.  Shorter than he imagined, but filled with vigor that belied his height and years.  What little hair he had remaining was a silvery-grey, but his body was solid, his handshake firm.

“It’s good to finally meet you, Sir,” Stephen said.

“I believe, my Lord that I am supposed to call you that, not vice versa.”

“Well, I seem to have a penchant for not doing things the exact way others want, General.  Can you live with that?”

“I believe that I can, Lord Stephen.”

Kerensky sat in one the chairs arranged around a coffee table as Stephen gestured, and then sat himself.  Thom Pappas came in, carrying a silver service tray with two pots, a sugar bowl, and several china cups.  Placing it on the table, he took one of the cups and poured Stephen a steaming cup of coffee, and handed it to him.  Turning to Kerensky, he asked, “Coffee, Sir?  Or perhaps, Astan Tea?”

“Tea, please, Sergeant Pappas.  Thank you,” he finished as Thom handed him the sweet, hot beverage.

Taking a sip, he sighed with pleasure.  Astan Tea was the closest blend to that of his native Russia of any grown and brewed on nearly 3,000 worlds.  Once the supplies for his samovar ran out, this was what he would be drinking for the duration of the War.  Sweeter than he preferred, but still excellent—unlike that English tea most of the high court favored.

He took another sip, using the movement to observe Stephen Cameron.  The First Lord was watching him—and smiled in recognition that Kerensky was doing the same.

“You’ve traveled a long way, General, so I will not keep you waiting.  Why are you here?”

Kerensky sat back, and considered his answer.  Lord in heaven, he thought.  He sounds just like Simon, twenty-five years back.  Confident in his own competence; self-assured and yet, lacking that patronizing air so beloved of the Court in Richard’s time.  He smiled, “I had to see you for myself, Lord Stephen.  I had to know whether or not I served another Richard.  That is the first reason.”

“And are you, General, serving another Richard Cameron?”

“No.  No, Lord Stephen, I do not believe so.”

“Good.  I really hope that I do not present that particular impression to anyone.”

“Did not care for Lord Richard, much, Lord Stephen?”

Stephen grimaced.  “No offense meant, General Kerensky, I know you were his regent, after all.  But, he was as big a failure of the dynasty as any since Conrad McKenna; perhaps even more so than Conrad.  The League is dying, General, and Richard is the cause of that.  Perhaps we—you and I and a few others—might manage to resuscitate it, but unless we change how things are done, the seeds of our destruction have been laid.  We WILL reap what we have sown, unless we plough the old seeds under and start over.”

“Yes, I was told that you gave the SDS plans—for the ground facilities, at least—to Minoru Kurita.  And that you plan on doing so with the other Council Lords.”

Stephen nodded, a grim look on his face.  “We promised them that, General.  And I will give the SDS technology not only to Davion and Steiner, Marik and Liao, but to Calderon, Centrella, and Avellar, as well.”

Colonel Bradley and Colonel Hall—Kerensky’s aide—both winced at the thought of the Periphery having those systems.

Stephen waved his hand over both of them.  “They don’t see it, General, but I do.  And I believe you do as well.  We can’t go on like this—using the people of the Territorial States like we own them.  Eventually, we will have to give them their rights—the same rights we ensure for the citizens of the Hegemony—and let them choose whether or not to stay.  If giving them the technology to defend their worlds makes them feel more secure—and willing to talk about their other grievances, then it is all to the good.  And our idiotic polices have to change.  Already, water purification systems have begun to fail throughout the Inner Sphere and Periphery—the factories that produce their components are in the hands of Amaris.  Minoru and I have been talking about that and some possible solutions, but that is for a later day,” he said, with a sad little smile.

“Today, General, we have more pressing concerns.  Amaris.”

Kerensky took another sip of that excellent tea and nodded.  “You are correct, Lord Stephen.  And that is the second reason why I decided that I must come here.  You stated in your message to me that you intended to declare Asta as the Star League’s capital until the Court of the Star League on Terra has been recovered, did you not?”

“I did.”

“As much as it pains me to say so, you cannot remain here.  You and your family must move somewhere safer, Lord Stephen, for the time being, at least.”

Stephen leaned forward, began to speak, then forced himself to stop.  Calmly, Stephen, calmly.  This man is the Defense Force.  What he decides is what they will decide.  Yelling at Kerensky will only complicate matters.

“General, I will not leave Asta.  As of this moment, Amaris has taken and occupied all but five core worlds of the Hegemony—one of which, Carver V is still actively resisting his efforts to take it, thanks to it being the headquarters of the Star League Marines.  Semper fi.  And, of course, Amaris has not occupied our jointly-owned worlds scattered through the entirety of human space.  Asta, however, is the first world liberated from under the heel of Amaris.  This is where it begins, General.  And this is where I will direct the war.”

“Lord Stephen, I know how difficult this must be for you.  But, Asta is only a single jump from Terra.  Amaris could launch a counter-attack at any time—and no disrespect intended towards our Draconis allies—they can’t stop it.  Not alone.  And they will be alone, for at least the next three to four months, perhaps longer.  They can’t stop an attack in force—and you know it.”

Stephen bowed his head and then raised it defiantly once more.  “Maybe, General, maybe.  We have gotten the ground-based SDS on-line and operational—not up to SLDF standards, but still a very fearsome array.  We are training over a division of infantry troops and a full brigade of ‘Mech forces—from local Astan volunteers—in addition to two full regiments of the Eridani.  And the Coordinator has forty-five regiments of conventional forces and ‘Mechs on this planet, along with over ninety warships in orbit.  We can hold this world, General, we WILL hold it.”

“Lord Stephen, Amaris will not invade.  He will make a fast pass with his fleet and fire every nuclear weapon he has at the surface.  And now that we have a surviving First Lord, we can’t afford to lose him.”

“I know that, General.  I know that,” Stephen said wearily.  “That’s why you will take my wife and daughter with you when you return to Apollo.  I, however, will remain here.  The fate of the people of Asta will be my own.  Live or die, I will remain here, Amaris be damned.”
   Report to moderator   131.95.113.77 (?)
master arminas
Contributor
Champion
*****
Offline Offline

Posts: 664


View Profile Email Personal Message (Offline)
   
   
Re: Kerensky and Kurita
« Reply #111 on: June 16, 2008, 09:15:29 AM »
   Reply with quoteQuote Modify messageModify Remove messageRemove Split TopicSplit Topic
September 10, 2767
SLDF Bachelor Officer’s Quarters, Hawkins
North Continent, Asta
Terran Hegemony

The man was mad as hell.  He had never expected Kerensky—the Commanding General, himself—to come here, nor to try and convince the First Lord to leave Asta with him.  Or, for that matter, Lord Minoru to argue so strenuously with the First Lord that Kerensky was right.  Must have been quite a shock for the Old Man to find himself in agreement with the Snake.  But—thankfully—the First Lord had remained adamant.  So, he would be here when the attack arrived—but his family and General Kerensky were leaving today.

Damn them all for mucking up the plans!  The Emperor would never forgive him for failing to ensure the death of all of them—and for that his own family would pay the price.  He couldn’t have foreseen Kerensky coming here, so that could perhaps be forgiven, but it was all for nothing if he didn’t get the little bitch of a Cameron that pretended to be the heir.  At least Minoru was staying.  That was something he tried to tell himself.  But, it wouldn’t be enough.  No, Amaris would slowly and painfully put his family on Terra to death when he found out that his agent had failed in the task he had been given.

It had seemed such mild treason, years ago when he let himself be convinced by Amaris’s people to pass along information.  Information and technological secrets.  The money had helped—his family had a rough patch a few years back, and the secret funds the Rim Worlds had provided kept them afloat.  But he was in far too deep now to back out.  If he gave himself up, then Kerensky would stand him before a firing squad—especially if he ever discovered that he gave von Strang the complete documentation on Terra’s Castle Brians—and the Royal ‘Mech storage facilities.  Thousands, ten of thousands, of Royal class BattleMechs—far, far more advanced than even the commonly seen Star League machines—were stored there, for use by the Hegemony and the SLDF in the event of a crisis.  Now, those machines were in the hands of Amaris.  Enough to completely refit and reequip his entire army.

No, he was in too deep, and only his continued cooperation kept his family alive.  The last message passed him through the cut-outs was that von Strang had taken in his family—to ensure their safety; they were now his guests at his small modest Terran home.  At least his death would buy their safety, he thought.  He picked up the pistol again, having checked every component twice.  It gleamed, reflecting the light here in his quarters; then he slammed home the loaded magazine and chambered a round.

September 10, 2767
Branson House, Hawkins
North Continent, Asta
Terran Hegemony

“No, Daddy!  Please, don’t make me go!  Mommy, don’t let him make me GOOOO!” Cassie wailed, her face covered with tears cascading down both her cheeks.  Stephen and Marianne were nearly in tears themselves—they had spent the past nine days talking about this; neither of them wanted to be separated.  But, she finally agreed—for Cassie.  And for the unborn child she was carrying.  No one—other than the two of them, her doctor, Gerald, Heather, and Hiroyoshi—knew about that yet, not even Cassie.  Last night, he had held his baby girl, and explained why she had to leave, with Mommy, and he had to stay.  She had nightmares after the last separation—when she and Marianne flew with the Harrison’s out to Windward.  She still had them, and she didn’t want to go.

Not this time.  No, this time she wanted to stay.  Wanted to be here with her Daddy and her Mommy—because that was the way things were supposed to be.  Not halfway across inhabited space aboard a ship of war.  A refugee from his fear and dread of what might be.

“Hush, baby, hush,” Marianne was holding her tight, stroking her hair.  “We can’t stay, baby, it’s not safe.”

“But Daddy’s STAYING,” she sobbed.  “He can.  Go with us.  PLEASE?”

Aleksandyr Kerensky stood to one side of the room, his face reflecting his own inner sadness.  She is a truly lovely child, he thought, just a Commandant Fulton said.  I envy Stephen Cameron this time he has had with his child—and his wife.  His thoughts turned to his own bride—and their children—hidden away in Moscow, safe from Amaris only in their anonymity.  Will I be the father this man is?  I failed with Richard, what makes me think I can succeed with Nicolas and Andrei?

Gerald looked at his watch—1042.  Thank God, they started early!  Kerensky’s DropShip wasn’t scheduled to leave for another hour and eighteen minutes.  He snorted—though it wasn’t likely they hold their schedule and leave without the man!  Which is good, he thought.  ‘Cause it’s gonna to take a hell of a lot longer than that to calm Cassie down.

*****************************************************************************

Hiroyoshi turned to climb the stairs to the suite of rooms set for Stephen and his family.  He had just finished making certain that every single piece of luggage for Lady Marianne and Lady Cassandra had been packed and loaded in the vehicle.  The escorts were ready to proceed, the security detail was standing by, and Hawkins PD had confirmed the route—and both alternates—were ready to be cleared at a moment’s notice.  They weren’t running behind—yet—but he knew children.  He had three of his own back on Luthien.  None QUITE so impetuous as Lady Cassandra, perhaps, but still just children.  And he remembered leaving home the last time—for this journey.  His oldest child trying manfully not to cry; his smaller siblings failing, not understanding why Daddy had to go away.  Oh, he understood what Stephen was feeling today.

As he reached the steps, he paused.  “Good morning, Major.  What brings you here, today?”

Major Wallace Turner turned to Hiroyoshi and smiled, lifting a metal secured-materials case handcuffed to his wrist.  “We just received Critic priority transmissions from Apollo, via SLDF channels.  Colonel Bradley instructed me to hand deliver them to the General and the First Lord, immediately.”

“Hai, Major.  They are both upstairs, after you please.”

“Thank you, Sho-sa,” Major Turner said as he began climbing the stairs.

Major Turner had been a familiar sight here at Branson house for the past week or so.  A member of Colonel Bradley’s staff, he had spent about half his time here, organizing the First Lord’s work-load, conducting briefings, and making himself useful, then spent the remainder of his day working for Bradley and the Eridani.  A very hard-working man, Hiroyoshi thought.

The two of them climbed the stairs to the doors leading into the suite where Stephen and Marianne now lived.  Even through the closed doors, Hiroyoshi could hear Cassandra wailing.  He turned to Major Turner and smiled, “She is not very happy to be leaving, today.  If you will wait here, Major, I will inform them of your arrival.”

Hiroyoshi opened the door and walked in, closing it behind him, leaving Turner standing outside with the two duty guards.

The door opened again, and Gerald Howe was standing there, an exasperated look on his face.  The volume level jumped upwards with the door open, and Turner could feel empathy with the man for having to endure this.

“Morning, Major Turner.  Bit of a madhouse inside today.  Just let me have it and I’ll make sure they see it.”

“Sorry, First Sergeant, the Colonel ordered me to hand-deliver this and besides, its security-code locked.”

Gerald nodded, “Well, if you can stand the noise, come on in.”

Nodding at the two guards posted outside the door, Turner strolled in and began to walk over towards General Kerensky.

*****************************************************************************

General Kerensky noted Major Turner’s entry and watched him cross the room towards him.  Stephen and Marianne both were hugging Cassie, trying to get her to calm down, to quit hyperventilating, and stop crying.  He stepped towards the major.

“Yes, Major Turner?”

“Sir, I have Critic priority transmissions from Apollo for you and the First Lord.”

“Very good, Major.”

Wallace Turner placed the metal case on a small table, being sure to face Kerensky and the Cameron family.  Unlocking the handcuff, he placed his thumb on the security lock on the case and it hissed opened.  “Right here, General,” he said as pulled out the pistol and fired twice into Kerensky’s chest.
   Report to moderator   131.95.113.77 (?)
Takiro
Administrator
Avatar
*****
Online Online

Posts: 5060

digitdoger
View Profile Email Personal Message (Online)
   
   
Re: Kerensky and Kurita
« Reply #112 on: June 16, 2008, 11:46:55 AM »
   Reply with quoteQuote Modify messageModify Remove messageRemove Split TopicSplit Topic
Wow, didn't see that coming. I read your first post today over on CBT yesterday. This is terrific stuff I must say.
   Report to moderator   71.190.242.132 (?)


"It is better to be thought a fool, than open your mouth and remove all doubt."
    U. S. Grant

"Don't think about what I say, cause I don't."
   John Luther
master arminas
Contributor
Champion
*****
Offline Offline

Posts: 664


View Profile Email Personal Message (Offline)
   
   
Re: Kerensky and Kurita
« Reply #113 on: June 16, 2008, 12:00:11 PM »
   Reply with quoteQuote Modify messageModify Remove messageRemove Split TopicSplit Topic
Yeah,

I was at home, and decided to post--rather than from work where I normally do.  And I couldn't remember my password!  Duh!

So, I had to wait until I got here at work today.  Sorry.

AtV
GMER
   Report to moderator   131.95.113.77 (?)
Ice Hellion
Contributor
Grand Champion
*****
Offline Offline

Posts: 3087

Part time builder of fallen Empires


View Profile WWW Email Personal Message (Offline)
   
   
Re: Kerensky and Kurita
« Reply #114 on: June 16, 2008, 02:23:52 PM »
   Reply with quoteQuote Modify messageModify Remove messageRemove Split TopicSplit Topic
 Shocked

Impressive.
I want to know how it goes on...

He had never expected Kerensky—the Commanding General, himself—to come here, nor to try and convince the First Lord to leave Asta with him

Try and convince? The First Lord is not leaving or did I miss something?
   Report to moderator   81.56.118.167 (?)


In Turn they tested each Clan namesake in trial against the Ice Hellion's mettle. Each chased the Ice Hellion, hunting it down. All failed to match the predator's speed and grace. Khan Cage smiled and said, "And that is how we shall be."

The Remembrance (Clan Ice Hellion) Passage 5, Verse 3, Lines 1 - 5
master arminas
Contributor
Champion
*****
Offline Offline

Posts: 664


View Profile Email Personal Message (Offline)
   
   
Re: Kerensky and Kurita
« Reply #115 on: June 16, 2008, 03:03:23 PM »
   Reply with quoteQuote Modify messageModify Remove messageRemove Split TopicSplit Topic
No, Ice you didn't miss anything.  I could have written that better and clearer.

 Sad

Arminas tar Valantil
Grand Master of the Ebon Rose
   Report to moderator   131.95.113.77 (?)
master arminas
Contributor
Champion
*****
Offline Offline

Posts: 664


View Profile Email Personal Message (Offline)
   
   
Re: Kerensky and Kurita
« Reply #116 on: June 17, 2008, 09:28:59 AM »
   Reply with quoteQuote Modify messageModify Remove messageRemove Split TopicSplit Topic
September 10, 2767
Celestial Palace, Forbidden City
Delmar Continent, Sian
Capellan Confederation

Barbara Liao sat on her mahogany throne in the Great Hall of the Celestial Palace.  The same throne Aleisha Liao sat when she convinced the other five Great Houses to adopt the Ares Conventions three hundred and fifty-five years earlier.  The same throne Terrence Liao sat when he signed the Star League Accords to form the Star League two hundred and eleven years ago.  Her family had faced crisis since, but nothing like this.  Amaris threatened all human space with barbarism—and Barbara knew her realm was the weakest—militarily—of all the Great Houses.  Today, the decision would be hers.

Walking towards the throne were four men, wearing the green jackets of officers of the Confederation Armed Forces—the CAF.  Each of the four wore the single bronze triangle on their collar designating their rank as Colonel, the highest rank in Capellan service.  Each wore the green peaked forage cap, as emblematic of their service to Liao as the raised sword emblem on their shoulder.  None were armed—not even senior officers in service to Liao entered her presence with a weapon, save her personnel guard.

But there, the resemblance to rest of her officers ended.  For these four were today dressed in full ceremonial regalia.  Each wore a dark green and black pattern tartan kilt, with still more tartan cloth draped across their left shoulder, joining the kilt at their waist, front and back, tied in a knot on their right side.  Polished brown leather belts, with silver buckles circled their waists.  They wore low shoes instead of boots, complete with tassels and silver buckles, and high stockings upon their bare legs.  For these were the commanders of the four best regiments in her service; these were the Highlanders of Northwind.

The four halted at the first balk line, and two descended to their knees.  The other two continued, to the second balk line, halting once more.  One dropped—hands spread on the floor, and head lowered.  The last continued, kneeling to the floor at the third and final balk line, four meters from the throne in which she sat.  Murmurs raced through the crowd of witnesses filling the galleries.  Her court seemed to take offense at the Highlanders.  So be it.

“Rise, my gallant and splendid Colonels.  My Highland Colonels.  You who have never failed me or my family when courage—or skill at arms—were needed.”

More murmurs.  The court did not like that.  Praise was only for the high-born, in their opinion, not paid mercenaries.  Barbara could live with that; she ruled this court, not those simpering fools who only made appearance.  And mercenary these men might be in name—their loyalty for nearly three centuries now had been unquestioned.

“You have asked for an audience to present to us a petition, my brave Highland warriors.  Rise, ask, and we may consider to grant it.”

The four men stood, and the one closest to the Celestial Throne—Connor Stirling, commander of the 1st Kearny Highlanders regiment—spoke.  “Celestial Wisdom, we come today to beg of you a boon.  Our homeworld remains free yet of the traitor that is Amaris, but our brothers and sisters in service to the First Lord lie dead upon the green hills of Earth.  The Royal Black Watch has fallen, Celestial Wisdom, and it has yet to be avenged.  We ask that you release our regiments from your service, that we may return to Northwind and slake our thirst for vengeance on the traitor, the usurper.  We ask this of you, Celestial Wisdom, not in haste, but in sorrow that our paths must, for a time, part ways.  Should you release us from your service, we shall return to serve the Confederation and the Liao once more when our task has been completed.”

More murmurs.  Perhaps I should have the courtiers shot for this upcoming Harvest Fest.  That would certainly entertain me.  Oh, well, they will soon most definitely know of my displeasure with them, and their imbecilic ideas of how I should reign.  Very soon.

Barbara Liao stood, and descended the six steps until she stood on one carved green marble riser, an arm’s length away from Stirling.

“My knights, my brave, brave Highland knights.  So pure, so fierce, so loyal.  I have heard the call of our people, from throughout the Confederation and all of our Commonalties.  From every world I have heard the cry over this tragedy begun by Amaris on the birthplace of us all.  Earth.  Old Terra herself.”

“I can not, however, commit the armed forces of the Capellan Confederation against this barbarian.  Nor will I allow him to violate—in any manner—our territory.  We will aid Kerensky in whatever way we can, short of war.  But you, my proud bannermen, my strong right arm, you are mercenaries; technically not a part of the Confederation Armed Forces.  You are released from my service, upon the condition that once this conflict is ended, you will return to me and serve again.  Your boon is granted, my Colonels.”

She turned and walked back to the throne, adjusted her skirts and sat.

“What is more, I give you a gift, my own storied Highlanders.”

“We thank the Celestial Wisdom for her generosity and compassion.”

“The gift, my dear, dear, Colonels, shall be this.  Any within the Armed Forces of the Confederation who wish—for personnel matters—to ask of me a leave of absence will have that request granted, up to a number of no more than one in four of those serving.  Of course, I would never dream of keeping your dear friends in our Armed Forces from visiting their gallant and brave comrades upon the world of Northwind, so transport will be made available for any who wish to spend their absence there.  And since you Highlanders engage in games that we mere mortals cannot fathom, it would not be wise for me to deprive my absent soldiers of their ‘Mechs.  Do try to show them a good time, my dear Colonels, for many have asked to take this leave and visit your fair Tara.”

“Lastly, I will not have my Highland regiments travel back to their homeworld as paupers.  I gift to you—and your brethren on Northwind—the cruisers Celestial Beacon and Eternal Illumination, which have now been renamed the Northwind and the Tara, and the destroyers Fraser and Carmichael, which are now the Banshee and the Claymore.  Imagine my surprise, when I learned of your brothers and sisters that had joined our navy.  They have volunteered to take you home, my knights, my brave knights.  They are released from our service to join your cause.  Travel well, my Colonels, my dear Colonels, and may God honor the righteous and the just.”

Barbara Liao rose again, and walked to the door set behind the throne; pausing just once to meet her glance with that of Connor Stirling—her Colonel, her knight, her lover—before she once again turned her head and exited the hall as the four Highlanders knelt once more, and the court murmured again.
   Report to moderator   131.95.113.77 (?)
master arminas
Contributor
Champion
*****
Offline Offline

Posts: 664


View Profile Email Personal Message (Offline)
   
   
Re: Kerensky and Kurita
« Reply #117 on: June 17, 2008, 01:43:51 PM »
   Reply with quoteQuote Modify messageModify Remove messageRemove Split TopicSplit Topic
September 10, 2767
Branson House, Hawkins
North Continent, Asta
Terran Hegemony

The sharp CRACK was repeated, numbing fragile eardrums in the enclosed room.  The stench of cordite and blood filled the air, as Kerensky crumpled to the floor.  Wallace Turner paid the General no mind; his attention was already on the three members of the Cameron family in the center of the room.  Bringing up his left hand to steady the shot, he pivoted, drawing a bead on the smallest of the three.

Gerald Howe and Heather Schell both reacted the moment they heard the first shot, slamming Stephen, Marianne and Cassie to the ground; not even trying to draw their weapons—there were others for that.  Now—at this moment—they only sought to shield their charges with their own bodies.

Wallace snarled in triumph, as the door burst open; they were too late.  Time seemed to stand still, as he lined up the barrel on the little girls head, peeking out beneath Heather’s arm, her eyes wide, her cries momentarily stilled.  He pulled the trigger—and a split-second before the firing pin hit the primer cap to ignite the round, a razor-sharp shuriken sunk deep into the back of his hand, just above the wrist.  Wallace involuntarily jerked, and the shot went off target.  Cursing, he began to spin to his right, but Hiroyoshi was already there.  Three feet of flashing steel soared upwards, and in a spray of blood and gore, Wallace saw both his hands—and the pistol—fly away, to land on the floor.  He stopped, dead cold as shock slammed into his body, and looked at the white bone protruding from where his hands once had been, the red pulses of blood from the severed arteries—then his world went black as the pommel of Hiroyoshi’s katana slammed into his temple.

September 10, 2767
Hawkins General Hospital, Hawkins
North Continent, Asta
Terran Hegemony

“This is Brian Hopkins, with a special report for Interstellar News Network, reporting from Asta, in the Terran Hegemony.  Just moments ago, we learned that General Aleksandyr Kerensky, commanding general of the Star League Defense Forces, has been shot in an apparent assassination attempt, along with Cassandra Cameron, the six-year old daughter of the newly sworn-in Director General—and presumptive First Lord— Stephen Cameron.  They arrived at this medical facility only minutes ago.  No official statements have been made by either the hospital staff or the SLDF headquarters.  We have been given no information on their condition and our crews have not been allowed access to the facility.  A source high in the Astan planetary government has confirmed, however, that a member of the SLDF—for reasons unknown at this time—did open fire on Stephen Cameron, his family, and General Kerensky in Branson House a short while ago.  We have no information as of yet on the identity of the gunman, or of his condition, but are assured that the man is in custody.  To repeat, both Cassandra Cameron and Aleksandyr Kerensky have been shot and are currently being attended to by physicians in the facility behind me.  We will be here at the scene and continue reporting as information becomes available in order to keep you up-to-date with the details.  Brian Hopkins, INN, Asta.”

*****************************************************************************

Hiroyoshi—his face hardened like brick—watched EVERYONE that came within eye-sight of the waiting lounge of the surgical ward with a glare that screamed ‘TRY IT’.  The full detail was here, disrupting normal operations, but that suited Hiroyoshi just fine.  His people had cleared the entire floor—except for the medical staff—and the hospital administration be damned if they didn’t like it.  He had spoken with Colonel Bradley a few minutes ago—Ezra Bradley had approved whatever security protocols Hiroyoshi wanted to institute.  Then Bradley placed a call to Anders.  Anders in turn spoke to Minoru.  And Lord Minoru himself had called him.  He had offered two more DEST teams—and Hiroyoshi accepted.  They were on their way now, as was Lord Minoru himself, with General Anders and Colonel Bradley.  Colonel Hall—Kerensky’s aide—was here as well, in the waiting lounge with Stephen, Marianne, and five of the six members of Stephen’s original detail.  Everyone except for Heather—Heather was in surgery too.

His desperate throw had diverted the gunshot—pushed Turner’s hand just far enough that the bullet missed Cassie’s forehead—instead it hit Heather in the back, changed course upon striking a rib, then spent the last of it’s energy to plow into Cassie’s abdomen.  Heather would recover; her injuries were not life-threatening, and she had insisted on being kept awake as they rode to the hospital—worried about Cassie.  Cassie, though, her wound was vicious; and Hiroyoshi muttered another prayer to his ancestors to intercede on the little girl’s behalf.

Kerensky was another matter.  Both slugs had taken him square in the chest—how the HELL Turner had managed to miss the heart, Hiroyoshi could not understand.  But he still clung stubbornly to life, as surgical teams fought to keep him alive.  He had missed something; he must have missed something—ANYTHING—about Wallace Turner.  He played back every encounter with the man in his mind, searching for what he should have seen.  It was his fault this happened; for he had failed in his duty.  And for that—for a DEST commando, for a samurai—there was only one penalty.

*****************************************************************************

Stephen tightly held Marianne in his arms, his own cheeks damp from the tears his eyes could no longer produce.  Two hours, his little girl had been in surgery for two hours.  And still they had no word on her condition.  Gerald, Gerald was a sight.  This whole thing had ripped him apart on the inside.  Despite his gruff exterior, he loved Cassie—nearly as much as Stephen himself did.  All of his people were taking it on the chin.  And Kerensky!  That bastard shot Kerensky as well.  Colonel Hall knew none of his people—barely knew him—but she was praying as intensely as they were.  Stephen had looked at Turner the moment he heard the first shot, just as Gerald thrust him to the floor.  He didn’t know WHY, but he knew who Wallace had deliberately targeted.  And that knowledge fueled his anger.

Wallace had lined his sights on his baby girl, tried to take her from him; and if it hadn’t been for Hiroyoshi, he would have.  He might still have.  He had seen it all from the floor, as Gerald tried to cover him with his body—and Heather the same for Marianne and Cassie.  If Hiroyoshi had not reacted instantly when the shots occurred, then his Cassie would be dead now.  And Stephen did not know if he could take that, that loss.  The threat of that pain stoked the fire inside him even more; and if he did not yet know why, he would.  He would.

Hiroyoshi walked into the lounge and looked around—marking certain that no one who shouldn’t be here was—then turned back outside and ushered in a surgeon, clad in the green scrubs that even today were worn by hospital staff across human space.  Stephen felt Marianne hold her breath—he knew he was doing the same—as the doctor walked across to them.

“First Lord, Lady Cameron, I’m Doctor Chakabarti.  Your daughter is out of surgery, and in recovery.  She lost a lot of blood, and we had to remove her spleen, but she will make a full recovery.”

Stephen grew dizzy and his knees buckled, but Gerald was there; as was Thom, and Chuck, and all the others.

“She will need to rest, and is currently sedated, but there is no reason that you two,” he paused, looking at the MANY dangerous glares from around him, “and a SMALL number of your guards can’t see her, and sit with her.”

Stephen swallowed, trying to get his dried lips and tongue to work.  “Her spleen, Doctor?  What does that mean?”

“The spleen aids in her immune system.  Later in life, she will have a reduced immunity to many pathogens, First Lord.  It is treatable, though she will likely need weekly or monthly injections of an immuno-booster serum to prevent infection.  While potentially serious, she will live a mostly normal life.”

Marianne’s tears began again, “I want to see her.  I want to see Cassie, NOW.”

Stephen nodded, and motioned to Thom and Laura to take Marianne to the recovery room.  “I’ll be there shortly, love.  Kiss her,” he swallowed hard, “kiss her for me, ‘til I get there.”

As Marianne left, Stephen turned back to Dr. Chakabarti and asked the question he had been dreading.  “And General Kerensky?”

The doctor sighed, “That is a bit more complicated, First Lord.  He was shot twice in the chest—it was a wonder both slugs missed the heart and aorta.  But one lung was pierced and his right scapula shattered.  That damage is repairable, though it will require further reconstructive surgery.  We stopped the bleeding and patched the hole in his lung; he is no further danger from that slug.”

“The second passed between the heart and the aorta, narrowly missing both, and lodged directly in his spine.  We have removed the bullet, but the cord was severed.  I am afraid that General Kerensky will be paralyzed, from the abdomen down, for the remainder of his life.”

Colonel Hall let out a gasp.  Stephen’s world spun.  “You can repair spinal cord injuries, Doctor!  A simple neural interface clamp will allow . . .”

“Ordinarily, yes, First Lord.  That is why you can use your prosthetic leg without having to concentrate on moving certain muscles.  The NIC allows us to translate organic neural impulses into signals that electronics can read, and vice versa.  Ordinarily, we would install a NIC on both severed strands of the cord and connect the two, and function would be restored.”

“Unfortunately, General Kerensky is in that small minority—about 1.3% of the total human population—whose nerves seem to have an almost allergic reaction to the NIC implants.  If we were to attempt the procedure anyway, he would be dead in a matter of hours as his nervous system simply shut down.”

“No, First Lord, I am sorry.  But the medical science of today offers no quick remedy for General Kerensky’s injury.  He will never walk again.”
   Report to moderator   131.95.113.77 (?)
Ice Hellion
Contributor
Grand Champion
*****
Offline Offline

Posts: 3087

Part time builder of fallen Empires


View Profile WWW Email Personal Message (Offline)
   
   
Re: Kerensky and Kurita
« Reply #118 on: June 17, 2008, 02:48:48 PM »
   Reply with quoteQuote Modify messageModify Remove messageRemove Split TopicSplit Topic
 Shocked  Shocked  Shocked

Kerensky shot and Cassandra too.

Just a question, wouldn't Kerensky's allergic answer prevent him from being a 'Mechwarrior?
   Report to moderator   81.56.118.167 (?)


In Turn they tested each Clan namesake in trial against the Ice Hellion's mettle. Each chased the Ice Hellion, hunting it down. All failed to match the predator's speed and grace. Khan Cage smiled and said, "And that is how we shall be."

The Remembrance (Clan Ice Hellion) Passage 5, Verse 3, Lines 1 - 5
master arminas
Contributor
Champion
*****
Offline Offline

Posts: 664


View Profile Email Personal Message (Offline)
   
   
Re: Kerensky and Kurita
« Reply #119 on: June 17, 2008, 03:00:12 PM »
   Reply with quoteQuote Modify messageModify Remove messageRemove Split TopicSplit Topic
Nope.  He can wear a neuro-helmet--that doesn't connect physically to the nerves, after all.  But, if everyone was using EI to pilot 'Mechs, then he would be SOL.

AtV

master arminas
Contributor
Champion
*****
Offline Offline

Posts: 664


View Profile Email Personal Message (Offline)
   
   
Re: Kerensky and Kurita
« Reply #135 on: June 23, 2008, 09:07:59 AM »
   Reply with quoteQuote Modify messageModify Remove messageRemove Split TopicSplit Topic
Thanks for all the wonderful feedback and comments, everyone--Ice, Takiro, Mechrat, Black Tiger; all of you.  I'm actually having fun writing this, so it pleases me that you finding it enjoyable.  Massive post today--I will probably not be back though til after 1 July.

Arminas tar Valantil
Grand Master of the Ebon Rose
   Report to moderator   131.95.113.77 (?)
master arminas
Contributor
Champion
*****
Offline Offline

Posts: 664


View Profile Email Personal Message (Offline)
   
   
Re: Kerensky and Kurita
« Reply #136 on: June 23, 2008, 09:09:18 AM »
   Reply with quoteQuote Modify messageModify Remove messageRemove Split TopicSplit Topic
September 14, 2767
Archon’s Palace, Tharkad City
Boreal Continent, Tharkad
Lyran Commonwealth

The icy winds howled outside the thick granite walls of the palace.  Out there, in the ice and the snow, the temperature had plunged overnight to 20 below as the blizzard roared through the capital of the Lyran Commonwealth.  Inside, however, Robert Steiner was warm as he sat before the blazing fireplace in his private study.  His three guests were also comfortable, in their plush chairs facing him.  Robert swirled the Arcturan brandy in his snifter, watching the three closely.  Landgrave Gloria Lanning presided over the gaggle of politicians called the Estates-General.  The legislative branch of the Commonwealth, the Estates-General had seen its powers decline over the years.  Now it was little more than a rubber-stamp for his will.  Landgrave Lanning was here to make certain that it remained that stamp.  And as long as the Landgrave pleased her Archon, the Landgrave would continue to make money hand-over-fist from her not-so-secret less-than-legal dealings.

General of the Armies Heinrich Dieter sipped the deep rich amber liquid from his own snifter.  A graduate of the Nagelring—the premier military academy of the Commonwealth—he had been a loyal support of Robert since their school days.  That fact had been the sole reason Robert appointed him to the highest rank of the Lyran Commonwealth Armed Forces.  He had done passably well in his studies, though.  His friendship with Robert was genuine, though it had certainly pushed his career along as well; as peer review boards granted him higher and higher rank, thinking that his patron would be pleased with them.  Robert was, but he was not about to let his pleasure at Heinrich’s elevation through the ranks influence his policy.  But by the time they discovered that fact, it had been much too late for the social-climbing officers to correct their error.

The third man was Landgrave Erik Kiplinger—the head of the Lyran Intelligence Corps.  Another long-time friend of Robert’s, Kiplinger had gone into the intelligence service instead of the LCAF following preparatory school.   Erik kept to a low profile, but was possibly the most powerful man in the room, save only Robert himself.  He watched the enemies of the Commonwealth—both domestic and abroad—and if necessary eliminated them.  Quietly.   Robert had used his ‘services’ quite extensively in the past few years, as a string of ‘accidents’ confounded his political enemies within the government.  Though there were still dissenters who found themselves opposed to his policies—many too highly placed for such an ‘accident’ to occur without questions.

Erik and Heinrich had finished reading the brief Robert had personally prepared this morning—by hand.  No copies existed on any electronic system, and these papers would be burnt before his guests left the room.  Gloria sat back as she finished, lifted her snifter, and swallowed a huge amount of the potent brandy.

“It is risky, Archon,” she said, considering all of the possibilities that his plan laid bare.

Erik nodded as he ran a finger across the rim of the snifter, looking away into the distance, his keen mind pondering all the imponderables.  “Yes, it is.  But elegant.  I salute you, my Archon,” he said raising his snifter.

Robert smiled and lifted his own snifter to return the gesture.

“The LCAF can do this, Archon.  There is very little to oppose us on the worlds of the Rim; certainly Kerensky will not wish to initiate hostilities against a second House, not over this, not when we ‘cooperate’ with him on so many other points.”

“I thought so, gentlemen, my lady.  And of course, we will answer the will of the People, and raise these two divisions of volunteers to join Kerensky’s army.  Heinrich, do you have that list I asked you to prepare?”

“Yes, Archon,” Heinrich said as he handed the sheets to Eric and Gloria.

“Oh, ho!  Well done, my Archon, well done indeed.  You will appoint your most vocal critics to command these green regiments.  They cannot refuse the appointments without looking the coward, and losing their political support.  They will be away from Tharkad for years—in the midst of the most brutal war in centuries.  Even if they survive, which is questionable, they will be removed from interfering in your political endeavors here, in the Commonwealth.”

“The greatly expanded Commonwealth,” Gloria said as she sat back, a smile growing on her face as she considered the many fiscal opportunities that awaited her and her ‘associates’ on the former worlds of the Rim Worlds Republic.

Robert sat back in his comfortable chair, and his own smile would have generated a fond feeling of kinship with any of the deep pelagic beasts that Amaris so loved.  So, it was done.  The three voices that must support him and his plans were all in agreement.  Now he had but to send the message; to bait the hook that Kerensky and Cameron would swallow.
   Report to moderator   131.95.113.77 (?)
master arminas
Contributor
Champion
*****
Offline Offline

Posts: 664


View Profile Email Personal Message (Offline)
   
   
Re: Kerensky and Kurita
« Reply #137 on: June 23, 2008, 09:10:39 AM »
   Reply with quoteQuote Modify messageModify Remove messageRemove Split TopicSplit Topic
September 15, 2767
Hawkins General Hospital, Hawkins
North Continent, Asta
Terran Hegemony

The hospital security ward was quiet; after all it was two-thirty in morning.  Only one prisoner was in custody, and no one would be visiting him this time of night.  Thirty minutes ago his nurse had changed his bandages and given him his medications.  She was not scheduled to return for another hour and a half.  The two guards assigned to the graveyard shift were very junior members of the Hawkins Police Department.  Loyal and reliable, they were here to enforce the laws of Asta and the Hegemony—regardless of their own personal feelings towards the prisoner.  That fact made Hiroyoshi’s task slightly more difficult.

He had decided upon the bold approach, so now he walked down the corridor towards the two guards—Hamish Faulkner and Julian Edgerton, or ‘ham and eggs’ as the local police called them.  They were alert as he approached, and Hiroyoshi approved.  Good young men, doing a job which they personally disliked, but doing it as well as they could.  He admired that trait—and made a mental note to inquire as to if either wanted to engage in the tests to join his detail.

“Good morning, sir,” said Officer Faulkner.  “What brings you down here this morning?”

“Your prisoner, officer; I have come to retrieve him.”

“Sir?”

“Yes, I captured him, so he is to be transferred to DCMS authority.”

Faulkner and Edgerton exchanged a glance.  “We have received no such notice, sir.  Do you have the transfer order?”

“No, officers; such an order will not be needed.”

Edgerton frowned, “In that case, sir, I am sorry, but the prisoner cannot be transferred.  We will need to contact our superiors to inform them of your presence.”

He reached up and pressed the transmit key of his radio—and silence filled the room.

“I do apologize, officers.  But the prisoner is going with me.  And your radios will not function at this moment in time.”

Faulkner turned his head towards Edgerton, who was still trying to make his radio work—and saw a gleaming red dot on his chest.  He looked down, and an identical one shone on his own.

Hiroyoshi nodded, “Yes, officer.  I apologize for any inconvenience, but I shall be taking the prisoner with me.  Kindly drop your sidearms to the floor, and remain perfectly still.  My associates do not have lethal weapons, but the drugs that will render you unconscious do have some rather nasty side-effects later, after you recover consciousness.”

Edgerton quit trying to get his radio to work, and stared at Hiroyoshi.  “You know we know who you are, sir.”

“I know.  But what you may not realize is that I was appointed as the Combine’s Liaison Officer for the First Lord, in addition to my duties as part of his security detail.  As such, I am officially a member of the Combine government, and an accredited member of Lord Kurita’s diplomatic mission to this world and to the First Lord.  One who furthermore has full diplomatic immunity to prosecution.  So, may I have the key to the room, or shall I have you take a short nap, gentlemen?”

“I cannot just hand over the key, sir!”

“When this is finished, come and see me about a job, Officer Faulkner, on the First Lord’s security detail.  I do rather like you, sir.”  Hiroyoshi looked up, and nodded, and two darts, propelled by compressed air, buried themselves in each officer’s neck.  The two gave Hiroyoshi an odd look, and then collapsed to the floor.  Hiroyoshi bent and removed the key ring from Faulkner’s belt as the remainder of his team lowered themselves from the false ceiling above.

He inserted the key in the door; then entered the room.  Wallace Turner lay asleep on his bed, thick bandages covering the stumps of both his arms.  Hiroyoshi pointed at the video surveillance cameras and two of his team disengaged them.  A third scanned for room for audio pick-ups—and found four; each of these was likewise disabled.  That accomplished, Hiroyoshi spoke, “Move him quietly to the ambulance, then we have an appointment with Mister Turner that he shall not much enjoy.”

The commandoes wheeled Wallace Turner’s bed into the corridor, down a service elevator, and loaded the drugged man into a stolen ambulance.  Then, sirens blazing, they left the hospital behind.

*****************************************************************************

Wallace Turner awoke to pain.  The first pain he had felt since that Snake had severed his hands.  He opened his eyes, expecting to see the nurse changing his medication bags—instead, he saw Hiroyoshi Tanaka sitting besides his bed, shutting down the morphine drip.

“Good morning, Mister Turner.  I thought that perhaps the time has come for us to have a little chat—man to man, so to speak.”

Turner’s heart began to race, he looked desperately around his room—but it wasn’t his room.  He was not in the hospital at all, but in a dilapidated concrete warehouse.  Instead of nurses and local law enforcement, there were only the black-clad DEST commandoes and Hiroyoshi.  And his lawyer was nowhere to be seen.

“Where am I?”

“Someplace where you will remain safe from discovery, Mister Turner.  Now, I am going to have some questions for you.  If I receive a truthful answer, then you will get a reward, Mister Turner.  However, if you play me false, then that too has a gift that you will be the recipient of; one which you will not perhaps enjoy quite so much.”

“I know my rights as a citizen of the Hegemony, Tanaka.  This interrogation is illegal and cannot be used against me.”

“You are most certainly correct, Mister Turner.  This interrogation can not and shall not be used against in any court of the Hegemony.  But what does that matter?  I personally witnessed you shoot General Kerensky—and Cassandra Cameron.  As did Gerald Howe, Heather Schell, Stephen and Marianne Cameron, Cassandra Cameron, and General Aleksandyr Kerensky himself.  Not to mention that we have the entire affair on video recording.  If your attorney-at-law indicated that you would receive anything less than the full sentence for treason when you stand trail, then he is, quite frankly, delusional.”

“But, it is a small matter, Mister Turner.  I only want to know why.  Why did you deliberately target Cassandra Cameron for assassination?”

“Frak off, you miserable Snake.”

“Tsk, tsk, tsk, Mister Turner.  Gentleman, if you would please remove him from the bed and place him upon the board.”

Wallace Turner turned his head enough to see the hardwood board fixed with leather straps lying to his right—next to a concrete pool of water four feet deep.  He began to struggle and curse.

“None of that, Mister Turner, I did warn you.  However, technically it might be that you have not yet lied to me.  Would you care to reassess your answer?”

Wallace Turner swallowed hard.  This bastard Tanaka frightened him, nearly as much as von Strang had the one time they had met.  But Tanaka was here, now, and no mercy showed in his eyes.

“Why do you want to know?”

“Quid pro quo, Mister Turner?  I will play your game; I do not actually care, as long as you are—in the end—put to death in a slow and painful manner.  My Lord Cameron, on the other hand, wants to understand why an officer sworn to his service would shoot a six-year old girl, guilty of no crime except that of being his daughter.”

“I . . . can’t answer that,” Turner stammered, thinking of his family in the hands of that other madman, von Strang.

“As you wish, Mister Turner, as you wish.”  Hiroyoshi turned to the commandoes standing nearby—Turner couldn’t see their faces behind the armored visors—and nodded.  They lifted him onto the board, place a bag over his head and he was plunged, head-first into the pool of water.  He struggled, but could not lift himself; he felt the air in his lungs beginning to burn as he desperately needed to breathe.  Just as he could not stop himself from inhaling, he was lifted up from the pool, and the bag removed.

Turner sputtered and gasped, trying to draw in fresh air, while Hiroyoshi looked down on him.  “Can you answer, yet, Mister Turner?  No?” he pointed at the pool.  Once more Turner was bagged and forced beneath the water; his hyper-ventilating had reduced the capacity of his lungs and he began again to kick and struggle, but weakened even quicker this time, then was lifted out once more, trying to force his lungs to draw in more air as his pulse raced and his blood pressure soared.

“You seem ill-equipped to deal with this, Mister Turner.  You are still weak from your injuries.  Tell me what I want to know and it will all end.  Otherwise, Mister Turner, I have no other duties; and nothing but time.”

Turner began to cry.  He would do it.  Tanaka would kill him.  He would pretend to drown him for hours, then he would leave him down there, without air, without hope.  He shook his head, “No, please, no, not again.”

“Then tell me, Mister Turner.  Explain to me in words that, say a six-year old child could understand, why?”

And Turner did.

*****************************************************************************

Hawkins Police Headquarters was abuzz with activity this morning.  Wallace Turner had been abducted from the hospital by none other than the second-in-command of the First Lord’s security detail.  Faulkner and Edgerton had been found two hours ago and an alert was sent out to every officer in the force, calling them all in to duty.  Sergeant Jeremy Bryant shook his head as he sat at his desk.  To say all hell had broken loose, that would be the understatement of the year.  Turner’s attorney had shown up—accusing the police commissioner of complicity in the action in order to deny his client a fair trial under the law.  Governor Fairbanks himself had made an appearance demanding the police find Turner—alive—and find him today!  The three of them were in his Captain’s office, arguing loudly enough that he could hear them from out here.  So, today, on one of his very few off-days, he found himself here an hour before his normal waking time, holding down the front desk to let an officer who was not disabled participate in the search for the missing would-be assassin.

As he placed several sheets of paperwork in his outbox—damn all bureaucrats anyway—his phone rang.  “Hawkins Police Headquarters, Sergeant Bryant speaking.”

“Good morning, Sergeant Bryant.  This is Sho-sa Hiroyoshi Tanaka, of the Draconis Combine Mustered Soldiery.”

Bryant stabbed the button that automatically began a trace and a second that broadcast the call into both the Captain’s office and the staff-room set aside for the detectives investigating this case.

“Sho-sa Tanaka?  You realize you have given us quite a stir this morning, haven’t you?”

“For that, Sergeant you have my apologies.  I am certain that you are tracing this call, but really, it will not be required.  This call cannot be traced by your equipment.  Mister Wallace Turner is at the corner of Stanfield and Whittaker sedated in an ambulance—one probably listed as having been stolen this morning from the hospital.”

Officers hurried out of the room as a dispatcher began reading off the location into his microphone.

“And his condition, Sho-sa Tanaka?”

“Not too much the worse for wear, Sergeant Bryant.  A few water sports this morning, nothing too strenuous for a convalescent.  Some of my associates are watching Mister Turner rather closely, though you will not see them when you arrive at his location.  Mister Turner is in no further danger from I or anyone associated with me, today, Sergeant.  And we shall ensure his safety until your capable officers arrive on scene.”

“And yourself, Sho-sa Tanaka?  Are you turning yourself in?”

He actually chuckled on the other end of the line; Bryant was amazed at the sheer audacity of the man.  “Why, no, Sergeant.  Please check with the Combine embassy for my diplomatic status.  You will find that I have full immunity for any crime committed in the Hegemony—up to and including murder.  At the very most, you could request that my Lord Cameron declare me persona-non-grata and expel me from Hegemony territory; but you, Sergeant, and your local legal system have no authority over me.”

“Then why didn’t you just kill that damned traitor?” Bryant couldn’t help himself, the question just popped out of his mouth.  Hiroyoshi laughed again.

“I have gotten what I wanted from the man, Sergeant Bryant.  And I am quite confident the ASTAN legal system will soon correct the small problem of Wallace Turner still drawing breath; quite soon in fact.  Have a good day, Sergeant,” he said as the line disconnected.

Bryant looked up from his desk to the balcony outside the Captain’s office where his Captain, the Commissioner, Turner’s attorney, and Governor Fairbanks now stood, all of whom were looking at him, their mouths agape.  He shrugged, and went to work on the next piece of paperwork in his in-box.

*****************************************************************************

Stephen, Minoru, Gerald, Ezra Bradley, Sam Anders, Gregor Samasov, and Hideki Matasuke sat in Stephen’s office in Branson House, as they listened to the recording of Turner’s statement to Hiroyoshi.  As it finished, Hiroyoshi leaned over, pressed the stop button on the device, and returned to a position of attention.

Ezra Bradley responded first, his face ashen.  “He was working for Amaris?  For the past six years?”

Stephen nodded; he and Gerald had heard the tape two hours earlier, and then arranged this meeting.  “Yes, Ezra, he has.  Lord Minoru, he informed the Rim Worlders of Operation Brody, as well as our current status of forces here.  We must assume . . . “

“Yes, Lord Stephen.  We must assume that sufficient forces were on hand on Amity to defeat my son and his Strike Force.  Further, Turner stated that they planned an attack here—in ten days time.”  Minoru looked at Matasuke, who shook his head.

“My fastest ship cannot intercept the Strike Force before that date, nor can any of the few Star League ships that we have.  And the command circuit to Amity has not yet been built—we suffered too much damage to too many ships taking Asta.  Those ships are now in yard hands back home.”

Sam Anders cleared his throat, “What of your reserve at your forward base at KV-106?”

“I will issue orders immediately to bring them forward.  Asta is the crisis point, Lord Minoru, Lord Stephen.  With those ships on hand, it will increase our strength to one hundred and forty-seven capital warships—but seventy-three of those will be mere corvettes and destroyers.  It will raise our total number of carriers to six, with six battleships and eight battlecruisers to back them up.”

Minoru, his face could have been graven of stone, looked at Stephen.  “Will you not have your family take refuge off-world, Lord Stephen?  No one could blame you for sending them away.”

Stephen sadly shook his head.  “Marianne and Cassie won’t leave.  Not this time, not as long as I stay.  And I can’t leave.”

“So be it,” the Dragon said, looking in turn at the eyes of everyone in this room.  “Then here we shall make our stand, gentleman.  Here we either turn the tide in this war or we perish.”
   Report to moderator   131.95.113.77 (?)
master arminas
Contributor
Champion
*****
Offline Offline

Posts: 664


View Profile Email Personal Message (Offline)
   
   
Re: Kerensky and Kurita
« Reply #138 on: June 23, 2008, 09:12:02 AM »
   Reply with quoteQuote Modify messageModify Remove messageRemove Split TopicSplit Topic
September 15, 2767
House of Government, Atreus City
Aquilia Continent, Atreus
Free Worlds League

Minister of Parliament Sienna Stewart waited patiently at her deck, as she awaited the arrival of the Captain-General of the Free Worlds League, Kenyon Mark.  In recess for the moment, Parliament awaited only his arrival to reconvene.  Stephen Cameron’s broadcast had set off a firestorm here on Atreus; indeed throughout the Free Worlds League.  Every MP had a constituency to answer to, if he wanted to return for next year’s session.  Emotions were running high, and the Captain-General; well, the Captain-General was not making things any easier.  Kenyon Marik had pointedly ignored the broadcasts and made no public announcements.  Finally, Parliament had issued a summons for him to address the body; which he would do when the Speaker gaveled the body to order in a few moments time.

Her own province, the Stewart Commonality, wanted to support Kerensky and the new Cameron now; no further waiting, no more excuses.  As did she.  As did the MP’s of perhaps two-thirds of the provinces of the League.  Unfortunately, that did not include three of the largest provinces—Marik, Regulus, and Andurien.  She had spent forty years in this Chamber, building power and tracking votes.  Despite not having those three on her side, she had the numbers to force action on the Captain-General if she must.  He had to take action, despite his personal hatred for Kerensky, he had to.  He was Captain-General of the entire League; Parliament could not let one man set their policies, not on a matter such as the Amaris Crisis.

Sienna hoped beyond hope that she did have to.  For the only answer she would have to Kenyon’s intransigence would be—desperate.  It would cause a Constitutional crisis, one the League could ill afford when so fragmented.  She prayed he would see the light and not force her hand on this matter.  The remainder of her delegation from the Commonality was not so cautious.  For six hundred years, a Scion of the House of Stewart had traveled back to Terra to serve in the Royal Black Watch, a tradition her province had enforced upon every generation like an unwritten law that could never be broken.  Now, Jenna Stewart was dead.  And the people of Stewart wanted vengeance for the vivacious twenty-three year old daughter of Angus Stewart, Laird of the Commonality—and her own grand-niece.  She sighed.  Please Kenyon, please see reason on this.

The doors of the Parliament opened, and she craned her neck to see if the Marik had arrived.  No, it was his youngest brother, Thomas Marik, one of the MP’s for the Marik Commonwealth—seat of the Captain-General’s power and authority.  He strode down through the tiers of seats, beneath the public galleries, that today were packed with news crews and common citizens.  He reached the well of the floor, and continued, ascending the Speaker’s desk, until he stood beside the Speaker, and quietly spoke in his ear.  The Speaker looked shocked—this was not good, Sienna thought.  Then the Speaker nodded—a look of displeasure on his face—and Thomas Marik returned to the floor, and joined his delegation.

The Speaker stood and banged the gavel.  “This session of the Federal Parliament of the Free Worlds League is called to order.  Order, Ladies and Gentlemen, we must have order.”

Slowly, the massive chamber quieted.  The Speaker spoke into his microphone.

“Captain-General Kenyon Marik is unable to attend this session today.  Instead . . . “

A vast swelling noise erupted throughout the Chamber.  The Marik had ignored their summons?  It was unheard of!

“Please, Ministers, can we have order?” the Speaker shouted.  As the noise lessened, he continued, “Instead, his brother, MP Thomas Marik has a statement prepared by the Captain-General which he has been instructed to read for our attention.  I recognize MP Marik and grant him the floor.”

Thomas Marik stood from his delegation box and lifted the microphone in one hand, a single sheet of paper in the other.  “I thank the Speaker, and my fellow Ministers of Parliament for allowing me to address this body.  My brother, the Captain-General of the League, the Marik, Kenyon Marik, has a short statement that he wishes to be entered into the records of this parliamentary session.”

“Honorable Speaker, Distinguished Ministers, citizens of all the Provinces of the League.  We are in troubling times.  Times of crisis.  Times when all public servants must consider the good of the Free Worlds League over all else.  We have all seen the broadcast from Asta, from the man claiming Lordship of the Star League, Stephen Cameron.  We know the perfidy of Stefan Amaris and his crimes in the murder of Richard Cameron and his seizure of the Terran Hegemony.  We know that General Aleksandyr Kerensky has declared war upon Amaris.”

“That, my people, is what we do know.  What you do not, what we do not know is this.  What shall the Free Worlds League do in response?  That is the question before us today.  And my answer to that is this—the League must look to itself.  This matter between Kerensky and Amaris is an internal affair between the Hegemony and the Rim Worlds.  Our obligations under the Star League Accords do not require us to support anyone—a Cameron of the blood or otherwise—that is not a duly elected First Lord by the High Council of the Star League.”

“Accordingly, despite calls for action by some among us, I have decided that the Free Worlds League will remain neutral in this conflict.  As of today, with no clear, legitimate, and lawful First Lord of the Star League, the Free Worlds League will place in escrow all taxes, fees, tariffs, and other sundry sums collected within its borders in the name of the Star League.  These funds will be held in escrow until a First Lord has been chosen.”

“All jointly owned planets of the Free Worlds and the Star League will be placed under Free Worlds authority, until a First Lord has been chosen.”

“All Star League facilities and installations will be handed over intact to officials from the government of the Free Worlds League to manage or be destroyed by the military forces of the Free Worlds League, until a First Lord has been chosen.”

“Any military forces of either combatant currently within the borders of the Free Worlds must leave immediately or face internment for the duration of the conflict, under the threat of destruction by the military forces of the Free Worlds League.”

“The Free Worlds will initiate an embargo of goods to all planets within the Terran Hegemony and Rim Worlds Republic, and to all military forces acting underneath their banners, until the cessation of hostilities has begun and a First Lord has been chosen.”

“These are my words, the words of the Marik, your Captain-General, on this 15th day of September, in the year of our Lord, 2767.”

Thomas Marik finished speaking and sat as the Chamber erupted.  Some of the Ministers were protesting loudly, others were cheering for the Captain-General—but most seemed stunned by the callous harshness of the proclamation.

Sienna sat still for a minute, then for two, then pressed the call button on her desk.  The Speaker, trying to restore order, must have hundreds of calls for the floor; but he knew her.  Raising his head, he met her gaze across the chamber, and nodded.  Banging his gavel and yelling for order, he slowly brought some calm back to the Chamber.  When it was once more quiet enough to be heard, he spoke.

“I recognize MP Sienna Stewart and grant her the floor.”

As she stood, she could have heard a pin drop.  Everyone waited to hear her words—some holding their breath, others praying she wouldn’t push the matter.  Before speaking she looked at her fellow Ministers, and the newsmen, and the citizens, and lowered her head.

“I have heard the words of the Captain-General, as read by the Distinguished Gentleman from the Commonwealth of Marik.  I have heard them.  And I can not say that I really expected otherwise.  Our Captain-General has served us well in the past, led us to peace and prosperity, but on this matter, his reasoning is clouded.  Twenty years ago, Kenyon Marik was chastised by Aleksandyr Kerensky—and he has harbored resentment ever since.  The Marik does not do this for the Free Worlds; he does this to exact revenge on the man who wounded his pride two decades ago!  He has not the concerns of the people of the Free Worlds in his heart—only the desire to see Aleksandyr Kerensky laid low.”

“Because of this, my fellow Ministers, Mister Speaker, because of this, I now call the vote.  I call for a Vote of No Confidence in Captain-General Kenyon Marik!  Let us vote, and remove the Marik from office who is too blinded by his personal pride to stand for the good of the Free Worlds and the Star League.  I call the vote, Mister Speaker!”

And utter chaos erupted in Parliament as Sienna Stewart sat, her head held high.
   Report to moderator   131.95.113.77 (?)
master arminas
Contributor
Champion
*****
Offline Offline

Posts: 664


View Profile Email Personal Message (Offline)
   
   
Re: Kerensky and Kurita
« Reply #139 on: June 23, 2008, 09:13:16 AM »
   Reply with quoteQuote Modify messageModify Remove messageRemove Split TopicSplit Topic
September 16, 2767
Branson House, Hawkins
North Continent, Asta
Terran Hegemony

“Governor Alistair Fairbanks to see you, First Lord, on what he deems an urgent matter,” solemnly intoned Gerald from the doorway to his office.  Stephen winced; just as soon as he finished reviewing the basic operational outline Admiral Matasuke had devised for the defense of Asta with Sam Anders, Gregor Samasov, Ezra Bradley, and Hiroyoshi he was due back at the hospital.  Cassie was being released today.  But, he nodded, might as well not put this off.

Alistair Fairbanks entered the office, and frowned as he recognized Hiroyoshi.  Crossing over to the front of the desk, he nodded his head.  “Thank you for seeing me on such short notice, Director-General.  This is a private matter, however.”

Stephen leaned back.  The man truly was a pompous ass, he had learned over the past few weeks.  “General Anders is the senior SLDF officer in the system, while Colonel Bradley commands the only SLDF ground forces on planet, and General Samasov is the senior Combine officer groundside today, Governor.  Speak your mind.”

Fairbanks jaw muscles clenched slightly, for Stephen had not offered him a seat, unlike his other guests.  “Very well, Director-General.  I have come seeking a warrant for the extradition and trial of one Hiroyoshi Tanaka for the violation of multiple laws of both Asta and the Hegemony.  Here is the documentation.”  He placed a sheaf of papers on Stephen’s clean desk.

Stephen placed on finger on the documents, and tapped them lightly, fixing Fairbanks with an icy stare.  “What are the charges you wish to bring against a member of my staff, one with full diplomatic immunity, Governor?”

“He kidnapped a citizen of the Hegemony, assaulted officers of the law, stole an emergency services vehicle, and committed acts of torture.  He should be declared persona non grata immediately and then his extradition demanded from the Combine government.”

“The citizen in question shot my daughter, Governor Fairbanks, and General Kerensky.  Aleksandyr will never walk again because of that man.  That is who you are referring to, correct?  Hiroyoshi, have you tortured anyone else that I am unaware of?”

“No, my Lord Cameron, I have not.”

“You may choose to pretend that this is a joking matter, Director-General, but it is not in the least amusing.  Torture of prisoners is specifically forbidden under Hegemony law.  The other acts might well be covered by diplomatic immunity, but I believe a case can be made for the extradition of that man as a war criminal—something not covered in his diplomatic immunity.”

“Your request is denied, Governor,” Stephen said as he slid the papers back across his desk to Fairbanks.

“It is not a request, Director-General.  Under the Great Charter of the Hegemony a Planetary Governor has the right to demand action of the Director-General to seek justice for laws broken by parties of extra-planetary origins.  I do so demand.”

“I am familiar with that section of the Charter, Governor.  Are you familiar with Article VII, Section IV?”

“Of course, Director-General, I was a civil rights attorney before I entered politics.  That section details the Director-General’s powers of clemency and pardon.”

“Good, Governor.  Please read this, then,” Stephen said as he pulled a document from a drawer and slid it across the desk.

Fairbanks took the document and scanned it, “Are you mad, Director-General?  This document gives a full and complete pardon to this, this criminal for any and all crimes committed in the borders of the Hegemony at any point in time prior to today.  This is blanket immunity—and thoroughly illegal, sir!”

Stephen stood.  “Sir, we are at war.  The citizen in question is an agent of our enemy.  Hiroyoshi was acting on my direction when he questioned Turner.  And he is now pardoned.  And because of the information he gained, we now know that Amaris is planning a counter-strike against Asta within the next ten days.  You would have been informed of that later today, but since you are here now, consider yourself so informed, Governor.  I intend to make an address to the people of Asta tomorrow to inform them of the threat we face.”

Fairbanks grew pale.  “Amaris?  Attacking again?”

“Yes, Governor, and in even greater numbers than last time.  This fight might well include Amaris firing nuclear weapons at the planetary surface.  After all, he attempted to do so last time.”

Fairbanks looked down and then at his watch.  “I should be going then, Director-General.”

“Good.”

Stephen remained standing until Fairbanks had left the office, escorted again by Gerald.  He placed his finger on the call button, and his secretary answered, “Yes, my Lord?”

“Gretchen, pass the word to the staff.  I don’t want to see or hear from Governor Fairbanks at any time in the foreseeable future.  Don’t let him in here again.”

“Of course, my Lord.”

Sitting once more, Stephen looked across at the three men across from him.  “In that case, gentlemen, where were we?”
   Report to moderator   131.95.113.77 (?)
master arminas
Contributor
Champion
*****
Offline Offline

Posts: 664


View Profile Email Personal Message (Offline)
   
   
Re: Kerensky and Kurita
« Reply #140 on: June 23, 2008, 09:14:28 AM »
   Reply with quoteQuote Modify messageModify Remove messageRemove Split TopicSplit Topic
September 17, 2767
Planetary Capital, Hawkins
North Continent, Asta
Terran Hegemony

“L.T., you pegged the guy just right,” Gerald said as he walked into the anteroom with a grin across his face.

“Top, you sound so shocked that I can read dilettantes like an open book.  Remember the family I grew up in.  Fairbanks bailed?”

“Boarded a private transport this morning bound for Northwind.  Along with his family and his mistress, and about two dozen others of the same mindset.  No great loss for the defense of Asta, thereaways.”

Stephen clucked his tongue.  “Did he inform the Assembly of his departure, Top?”

“Seems that he did not, First Lord.”

“Pity, but the Asta Constitution clearly spells out that before leaving the planet, a Planetary Governor must inform the Assembly of his reasons for doing so and the expected length of his absence.  Seems the good Governor has abandoned his duties.”

“Yep.”

“Would you bring Paul in, please Gerald, and give us a few moments.”

Gerald nodded and left the room.

*****************************************************************************

Paul Geeler walked into the ante-chamber where the First Lord stood.  He knelt, unsure what to do.

“Damn it, Paul, get back on your feet.  We’ve slogged the same mud together, spilled our blood together, trooper, no need for that crap between us old soldiers.”

“Lord Stephen, it is a pleasure to see you again.”

Stephen smiled and offered Paul a seat.  Hiroyoshi came in and gave Paul a cup of coffee, then withdrew.  Not a single one of Stephen’s detail remained in the room with him and Paul.

“Bet your wondering why I asked you here today, Paul.”

“Yes, sir, I was kind of.”

“I have a job offer for you.  It’s a tough job, but you showed me you have toughness during the Resistance.  I won’t lie to you, it’ll lay a lot on your shoulders, and you might not get many thanks other than mine, but I think you can do the job right.”

“It would be my pleasure to serve in any way, my Lord.”

“Don’t say that so fast, Paul.  I’ll be making a speech in about half an hour—the gist of which is that Amaris is coming back, loaded for Ridgeback.  You know Governor Fairbanks?”

“Yes, sir, not personally, but I have seen him in the news.”

“Governor Fairbanks has fled the planet; abandoned his office, his people, and his planet.  He did so because he is a coward, Paul.  He knows about the Rim Worlds counter-attack and he ran.”

“He was always worthless, sir.  Everyone knew that, but his little district keeps reelecting him.  If he hadn’t been Whip in the Assembly, he would have never had a chance to be Governor.  Who are you going to appoint to replace him, if I may ask?”

“You may.  I was thinking perhaps, you.”

Paul Geeler sat bolt upright in his chair.  “You have got to be joking, my Lord!”

“Nope.”

“I, I’m just an electrician.  Not a politician!”

“Right.  You build and repair things.  And this planet needs someone who can do that, without being beholden to the Old Guard who have their own interests that must be satisfied.  Things have got to change, not just on this world, but across the League.  We are at war, in the fight of lives with a barbarian who won’t hesitate to kill a world to kill a single man.  You know that, and you had the courage of your convictions to do something about it.  I’ve met your wife and your kids, they adore you, and that—and serving alongside you—tells me all I need know about you.  I served an eternity in hell alongside you.  Paul, I trust you, the trooper who could thread a needle with his SRM launcher.  That’s who I want as Asta’s next governor.  That’s who I NEED as Asta’s next governor.  The job might kill you, but it’s one you can do—and do well.”

Paul sat back and sighed   Kathleen would kill him, but, he looked at the face of his lord.  I don’t want to let this man down, he thought.  He sure as hell hasn’t let any of us down.  “If you need me, my Lord, then I will serve.”

Stephen grinned.  “Excellent, Planetary Governor Geeler.  Now that that is settled, how about we consider what you are going to say to your people in just a few moments when we tell them about the upcoming attack, then go say hi to your wife and kids, they’re in the next room.”
   Report to moderator   131.95.113.77 (?)
master arminas
Contributor
Champion
*****
Offline Offline

Posts: 664


View Profile Email Personal Message (Offline)
   
   
Re: Kerensky and Kurita
« Reply #141 on: June 23, 2008, 09:15:45 AM »
   Reply with quoteQuote Modify messageModify Remove messageRemove Split TopicSplit Topic
September 25, 2767
DCS Dragon’s Fist
High Orbit, Amity
Empire of Amaris (Terran Hegemony)

There had been no resistance at the jump point.  The Strike Force had arrived less than two hours ago at the L-4 jump point, fully expecting a pitched battle.  Instead, there was nothing.  Not a single ship—military or civilian—in orbit, at any of close orbit jump points, not even at the systems two primary jump points.

Jumping a ship across the trackless waste of interstellar space was a risky endeavor, even when the crew observed all possible precautions.  Ships vanished for all time, even now, nearly seven hundred years after the discovery of the Kearny-Fuchida jump drive.  Jumps could only be initiated or resolved at points of gravitic balance.  Every system—regardless of whether or not any planetary bodies were present—always possessed two jump points.  These two, located directly above—the zenith—and below—the nadir—of the star’s plane of gravity were the most stable; they were the safest to use, as well as the largest.  Unfortunately, these two jump points were days—or even weeks—away from the inner planets; the life zone that surrounded roughly one star in ten.  Planets where man could walk without gravity crippling him, with air he could breathe, water he could drink, and temperatures that neither roasted nor froze him.

There were other jump points, though.  Commonly called ‘pirate points’, these formed where a planet and a moon orbiting each other and their star generated one or more Lagrange points, named after the physicist Joseph-Louis Lagrange who postulated their existence.  At these points, gravity from the three objects—the star, the planet, and the moon—were in near perfect balance, allowing a stable orbit—and the ability to jump.  But these jump points were small in comparison to the two primary points, and much riskier to use.  However, their sheer usefulness in military operations overruled the safety concerns much of the time.  Planetary defenders could prepare much less thoroughly on four hours notice rather than four—or fourteen—days warning.

Of course, few systems possessed the perfect combination of one star, one habitable planet, and one moon that Terra did.  Adding more moons—or stars—reduced the size of ‘pirate’ jump points still further, and made it exceedingly difficult to calculate jumps.  And if a habitable planet had no moons of sufficient mass, then it had no ‘pirate’ jump points.  Luckily, Amity had a single large moon, and thus five separate jump points arrayed in close proximity to it.

Jump points that should have been guarded.  That had been a basic tenet of military operations since the first armed jump-craft was launched centuries ago.

Jinjiro was worried about the lack of resistance.  Still, Amaris must be stretched to the breaking, Jinjiro thought.  Perhaps he can’t spare his WarShips for a back-water world such as this.  Not when he has immensely rich and industrialized worlds—such as Dieron, Caph, New Earth, and Terra—to garrison and protect.  But those worlds have Space Defense Systems; Amity does not, an annoying little imp whispered at the back of his mind.

Looking down at the communications screen near his knee, he saw his naval commander—Admiral Genda—waiting patiently for his instructions.

“Admiral, launch the DropShips of the first wave, and prepare to give orbital fire support.”

“Hai, Gunji-no-Kanrei.”

Jinjiro tightened the straps holding him in the cockpit of his Dragon class BattleMech once more, as he waited for the DropShip he was aboard to release from the battleship DCS Yamato and begin its descent.

*****************************************************************************

The descent was rough—as always—winds buffeting the ninety-seven hundred ton craft as if were a feather as it screamed into the atmosphere at hypersonic speeds.  And this was a combat drop.  When the DropShip reached ten thousand meters six hatches on the outer hull snapped open, allowing the noise of the howling wind to penetrate even through Jinjiro’s sealed cockpit.  A red light flashed on his console as the machinery moved his sixty-ton ‘Mech directly over the drop chute.  When his ‘Mech had locked in place, the red light turned solid, then changed to green.  A tremendous concussion slammed Jinjiro back into his ejector seat as solid-fuel rockets drove his ‘Mech out of the DropShip and away from its lethal plasma exhaust.  Within seconds, the rockets died out, and the drop package attached to the outer surface of his ‘Mech began steering him towards the designated landing zone of his headquarters.

Dozens—scores—of smaller thrusters attached to every surface of the ‘Mech that could support them fired in controlled bursts.  They steered him, and slowed his descent.  Even with their aid, the ground approached fast.  Finally, all of the thrusters fired at maximum power—and did not cease.  The thrust they generated was enough—barely—to slow his ‘Mech to point where he would land without injury.  A thruster failure now would kill him.  It was one of the risks of being a ‘Mech pilot, of being a Kurita.  He accepted that and grinned, as the combination of gravity and the jet thrust made his body feel though it weighed twenty times his normal amount.  Then, the jets cut off, and he landed with a thud, running through a dozen steps to shed the last of his inertia before he was able to bring his ‘Mech to a halt.  Almost as an afterthought, small explosive charges detached the now-useless weight of the drop package from his ‘Mech, leaving Jinjiro in an undamaged, fully capable war machine standing on the surface of Amity.

*****************************************************************************

The recon lance bounded outwards from the landing zone.  Six regiments of ‘Mechs, plus Jinjiro’s command headquarters—over seven hundred and fifty of the massive humanoid war machines—had landed in a forty-nine square kilometer area fifty kilometers south of Arcadia, Amity’s capital city.  They had landed ready for combat in a ‘hot’ drop zone, expecting to be targeted on the descent by enemy ‘Mechs, artillery, armor, aerospace assets, and conventional fighters.  Not a single shot had been fired, however.  Three dozen lances of scouts sped away from the landing zone; their mission to find the enemy.

The second wave was already entering the upper atmosphere—twenty-four regiments of armor and infantry troops, bound for the ferrocrete landing strips of the abandoned space-port captured by the ‘Mechs already on the surface.  The reserve—fifteen more regiments, including an elite Sword of Light regiment, and both of the Eridani regiments—waited in orbit, ready to descend on a moment’s notice.

Chu-i Devon Patrick commanded the lance of four Jenner class BattleMechs speeding towards the southwestern suburbs of Arcadia.  They saw nothing—no enemy forces, no Amity citizens, not even livestock or domestic animals.  There were even no birds.  He shook his head, something was wrong.  They had just entered the outlying sub-divisions of this area, and still there was nothing.  Suddenly, a harsh alarm blared from the speakers in his neuro-helmet, a rapidly blinking crimson light appearing on his cockpit console.  Patrick blanched—that was the CHEMICAL alarm.  His ‘Mechs sophisticated sensors were detecting chemical warfare agents in the air outside.  Hurriedly, he checked the environmental systems; all were green.  His filters were in place and functioning properly.  Then he saw the first dead bodies.

*****************************************************************************

“It’s confirmed, Lord Jinjiro.  It appears the Rim Worlders used nerve agents against Arcadia—estimates are near 100% civilian casualties, that’s over three hundred thousand, sir,” Tai-sai Hikaro Mikato said his face pale with shock.

Even Jinjiro was stunned.  This wasn’t war, it was a massacre; wanton butchery.  And where were the Rim Worlds troops?  They still had not found them, and already his scouts had cleared an area sixty kilometers in radius.

That annoying imp was whispering at the back of his mind again, and for the first time in a long time he found himself in agreement with it.  Something was not right here.  “Tai-sai, disperse the landed regiments and have the second wave abort and return to . . . “

“Incoming aircraft!  Multiple incoming aircraft, moving fast on a vector towards the second wave’s DropShips!” the sensor tech in the mobile command post sounded out.  His face blanched.  “Radiological alarm!  My lord they are carrying nuclear weapons!”

Another communications tech turned to Jinjiro, “Sir, recon Fox-Seven-Delta reports multiple enemy ‘Mech formations moving fast towards the landing zone, sixty-two kilometers out bearing to the east, over the Keroon Plains.  He confirmed visual sightings of over five hundred enemy ‘Mechs before his transmission ceased.”

Jinjiro turned to his aide, “It’s a trap; they knew we were coming.  Raise Admiral Genda, I want immediate orbital fire on those formations—and get our fighters scrambled to intercept theirs!”

The naval liaison officer looked at Jinjiro, “Sir, Admiral Genda is on the line for you; a fleet in excess of one hundred and eighty Rim Worlds vessels has just jumped in system at the L-3 and L-4 points.  They are launching fighters and maneuvering to pin his command against the planet.”


*****************************************************************************

The aerodyne DropShips carrying the second wave received the abort order just as the first squadrons of Maket class assault bombers and Mako class interceptors appeared on their radar screens.  Over two hundred Rims Worlds aerospace craft screamed through the atmosphere towards them as DropShip crews began to apply more thrust and climb back out of the thick, entangling atmosphere.  Their fifty-four escorting fighters—Shilones, primarily—banked hard to meet and engage the enemy before they could enter weapons range.  But the Combine escort fighters were outnumbered four-to-one; and this enemy carried nuclear weapons.

The Shilones splashed over seventy Makos and forty Makets in four minutes of intensive fighting, but they were spent—and had lost forty-one of their own number.  Fourteen surviving Maket class assault bombers reached their own weapons range and fired; salvoing eighty-four nuclear tipped missiles as they applied full thrust to their drives and climbed for the heavens.  Of the two hundred plus DropShips of the second wave, one hundred and fifty-nine vanished amid the eye-searing glare of the nuclear detonations.  The survivors fled back to their transports in orbit, leaving Jinjiro’s ‘Mech force alone on the surface.

*****************************************************************************

The tremendous concussion nearly slammed Jinjiro to the ground as multiple blinding detonations erupted far, far above.  They were outside the radius in which the thermal pulse was lethal, but still the explosions were deafening, and gale force winds ripped through the hastily erected command post.  Reaching his ‘Mech, Jinjiro quickly climbed aboard and strapped in; firing up the fusion reactor powering the machine.  As the gyros stabilized, and the control systems came on-line, he could see the radiation gauges climbing steadily—the Rim World’s nukes had been exceptionally ‘dirty’.

The imp was silent—for something inside Jinjiro had snapped at nearly the same moment the weapons detonated.  This was his fault, for he had led his men—HIS MEN—into this death trap.  He had ignored the advice of his father’s men, and now his men would pay for that.  The rage that so consumed him nearly every waking minute had died, and only icy cold gripped his soul.  Father, what have I done, he thought.  The imp was gone, because for the first time in a long time, he knew that the imp had been him—the true Kurita inside, not the spoiled prince who had laughed at the thought of war and carnage.

Around him, the thirty-five other ‘Mechs of his headquarters were also powered up, and Jinjiro shook off his thoughts.  He raised his ‘Mechs left arm and thrust it forward.  Pushing his ‘Mech into a run, he headed towards the approaching enemy forces, and the soldiers of the Dragon followed in his wake.

*****************************************************************************

Admiral Genda watched the holocaust erupt beneath him, his stomach sick.  Over twenty-five thousand Combine soldiers and spacemen had died in that one single attack.  The surviving DropShips were running for his Strike Force, even as his reserve fighters reached them, giving them a protective umbrella to shelter beneath.  The Rim Worlds ships were launching fighters as well—nearly four hundred so far—and they were speeding towards his command.

“Signal all carriers to launch every remaining fighter they have to intercept that incoming strike.  All other fighters are to be held back for close defense against any hostiles that penetrate the screen.”

“Hai,” his operations officer responded, bending down at his console to pass the word.

“Admiral, the Gunji-no-Kanrei is on-line for you.”

Genda spun his command chair to one side, and placed the boom microphone and earpiece of his headset over his head.  This conversation was not for his crew to overhear.  Pressing a button, Jinjiro’s face, enclosed in a neuro-helmet, appeared on a small communications screen, static from the radiation crackling across, but still understandable, even if just barely.  “My lord.”

“Admiral, get your ships out of this mess and return to Asta.”

“Lord Jinjiro, we can’t abandon you . . . “

“Genda, that’s an order.  They outnumber you two-to-one and they will pin you against the planet if stay and support me.  Get the Strike Force out.”

His sick feeling intensified; it was the right order, but his peers would see it was cowardice, fleeing battle in the face of the enemy.  Not to mention he would be leaving behind the HEIR.  And to be truthful, it was an order he never once imagined Jinjiro could give.

Jinjiro smiled; a grim, sad smile.  “Activate your bridge recorders, Admiral, and transmit the following to all ships.  Make certain it is recorded—and broadcast—aboard every ship, please.”

As Jinjiro waited, Genda passed the order, removing the headset, and placing Jinjiro on the ship-wide speakers.  The communications techs nodded—the recorders were running.

“I, the Gunji-no-Kanrei of the Combine, Jinjiro Kurita, issue the following order to Strike Force Amity.  The Strike Force is to immediately disengage and return to Asta.  No ship is to deviate from this instruction.  You are to break orbit immediately and evade the enemy forces in system.  Any vessel incapable of maintaining the minimum thrust to disengage will be abandoned and scuttled.  In my considered opinion, the odds are too great to risk losing a sixth of the Fleet.  There is no dishonor associated with this, other than my own.  The shame for this is mine and mine alone.  I—and the troops already on the surface—will remain to buy time for you to disengage.  Return to Asta, Admiral; get my people clear of this ambush.  And tell my father.  Tell my father, that I die a Kurita.  Jinjiro out.”
« Last Edit: June 23, 2008, 12:29:44 PM by master arminas »    Report to moderator   131.95.113.77 (?)
master arminas
Contributor
Champion
*****
Offline Offline

Posts: 664


View Profile Email Personal Message (Offline)
   
   
Re: Kerensky and Kurita
« Reply #142 on: June 23, 2008, 09:17:11 AM »
   Reply with quoteQuote Modify messageModify Remove messageRemove Split TopicSplit Topic
September 25, 2767
Keroon Plains
Continent Alpha, Amity
Empire of Amaris (Terran Hegemony)

His forces had sped towards the Rim World’s ‘Mechs with all the precision the highly trained and veteran warriors who piloted them could offer.  Now, Jinjiro stood in his Dragon atop a small bluff overlooking the Keroon Plains—a vast expanse of grass-lands and small groves of trees forty kilometers east of his original landing point.  Twenty minutes ago, his headquarters had quit broadcasting as yet another mushroom cloud erupted into the sky.  Still more explosions detonated amidst the grounded DropShips that had brought him here to the surface of this world; leaving him with no chance of escape.  Of course, he thought, escape is not what I seek today.

The enemy had not yet begun firing his weapons of mass destruction at his ‘Mech forces.  This section of Amity was covered in a fairly dense forest, making it difficult to detect his units from the air.  But that cover now lay behind him.  Ahead of him, the rolling plains of grass—with only occasional clumps of forest—spread out.  Once he exited the forest on those plains, it would be different, he thought.

Or perhaps not.  For in the distance, three kilometers away, he could see the glints of sunlight reflecting from the Rim World’s ‘Mechs.  Five hundred strong, the initial report had said.  His tactical computer showed more than seventeen hundred ‘Mechs, standing and waiting for him to
appear.  And not just any ‘Mechs; no, those were Royal machines of the Star League.  Amaris must have refitted these troops, before sending them here to ambush him.  To kill him and his men.  So be it, Jinjiro thought.  His only regret was that the story of the battle might never be told.  Outnumbered two and a half to one, in machines of a lower technology, he would fight both his first and last battle as a samurai should, as a Kurita should.  With the honor that his Kurita heritage had tried to teach him—and he had failed to learn, until now on the surface of a world that he would never leave.

Six regiments of the Combine’s finest stood behind.  The 3rd and 4th Sword of Light—elite troops each and every one, fanatical in their defense of the Combine and the Kurita line.  The 5th Benjamin Regulars—tough veteran troops who had excelled at the tests given to ensure their continued service.  The 2nd Pesht Regulars—many of whom had engaged in duels with Star League MechWarriors, and won.  The 1st and 3rd Galedon Regulars—commanded centuries before by Urizen Kurita himself, regiments that had participated in every major engagement of the Combine across the roll of the centuries.  Seven hundred and fifty-one of the finest samurai who served the Combine and the Coordinator stood with him.  And he—for the first time in his life—could feel the spirits of his ancestors, and the ancestors of all his warriors, standing with him as well.

He radio crackled as the interfering ECM died away.  A voice spoke from within.

“Jinjiro Kurita, I am General Walter Chou, commanding the Imperial Amaris Army upon Amity.  Surrender, and give your men a chance at life.  Kneel before my Emperor and he shall spare the lives of those who follow you.”

Setting his radio on wide-broadcast, Jinjiro replied.  “The Dragon may die, General Chou, but he never surrenders.  He never ceases to fight.  And though our death may come today, you at least shall perish as well.”

“So be it, Dragon.”

The radio shut down, and before the jamming could resume, Jinjiro summoned up all the courage his spirit could offer and yelled into the microphone, “BANZAI!”

“BANZAI!” screamed seven hundred and fifty-one throats as the Combine ‘Mechs charged out onto the plains below.

****************

master arminas
Contributor
Champion
*****
Offline Offline

Posts: 664


View Profile Email Personal Message (Offline)
   
   
Re: Kerensky and Kurita
« Reply #150 on: June 24, 2008, 09:41:29 AM »
   Reply with quoteQuote Modify messageModify Remove messageRemove Split TopicSplit Topic
I watched 'The Last Samuari' on Dish this weekend--for like the fortieth time!   Grin

Normally, I don't like Cruise, but that movie was outstanding and it gave me some ideas for the last two sections above.

Arminas tar Valantil
Grand Master of the Ebon Rose
   Report to moderator   131.95.113.77 (?)
Takiro
Administrator
Avatar
*****
Online Online

Posts: 5060

digitdoger
View Profile Email Personal Message (Online)
   
   
Re: Kerensky and Kurita
« Reply #151 on: June 24, 2008, 11:53:07 AM »
   Reply with quoteQuote Modify messageModify Remove messageRemove Split TopicSplit Topic
As did I. Not a great movie but pretty solid. Your stuff is really outstanding though master arminas. Can't wait for more. Wink
   Report to moderator   71.190.242.132 (?)


"It is better to be thought a fool, than open your mouth and remove all doubt."
    U. S. Grant

"Don't think about what I say, cause I don't."
   John Luther
wolfcannon
Advocate
****
Offline Offline

Posts: 441

megablastercannon@yahoo.com jmegacannon megablastercannon
View Profile WWW Email Personal Message (Offline)
   
   
Re: Kerensky and Kurita
« Reply #152 on: June 24, 2008, 01:57:40 PM »
   Reply with quoteQuote Modify messageModify Remove messageRemove Split TopicSplit Topic
*bows to superior writer* you sir write eloquently and passionately.  my work of fiction seems to childish stammering compared to your works.    you put me to shame and yet inspire me to dream of writing as you do.  i cannot of course.  i lack the ability to do so.  it is a shame such writes as you never become realized by PTB in battletech.
   Report to moderator   67.14.214.61 (?)
Jennifer Daniels
General
Daniels Avengers
Ice Hellion
Contributor
Grand Champion
*****
Offline Offline

Posts: 3087

Part time builder of fallen Empires


View Profile WWW Email Personal Message (Offline)
   
   
Re: Kerensky and Kurita
« Reply #153 on: June 24, 2008, 02:28:09 PM »
   Reply with quoteQuote Modify messageModify Remove messageRemove Split TopicSplit Topic
Quote from: wolfcannon on June 24, 2008, 01:57:40 PM
i lack the ability to do so.

Not really.
You can always work and perfect your style (no one is perfect).
   Report to moderator   81.56.118.167 (?)


In Turn they tested each Clan namesake in trial against the Ice Hellion's mettle. Each chased the Ice Hellion, hunting it down. All failed to match the predator's speed and grace. Khan Cage smiled and said, "And that is how we shall be."

The Remembrance (Clan Ice Hellion) Passage 5, Verse 3, Lines 1 - 5
wolfcannon
Advocate
****
Offline Offline

Posts: 441

megablastercannon@yahoo.com jmegacannon megablastercannon
View Profile WWW Email Personal Message (Offline)
   
   
Re: Kerensky and Kurita
« Reply #154 on: June 24, 2008, 07:46:05 PM »
   Reply with quoteQuote Modify messageModify Remove messageRemove Split TopicSplit Topic
i still try although i fall miles short of Master writers such as Master Arminas
   Report to moderator   67.14.214.61 (?)
Jennifer Daniels
General
Daniels Avengers
MechRat
Defender of Shattered Dawn
Administrator
Grand Champion
*****
Offline Offline

Posts: 1237

Help out a hungry Mechrat - Donate a 'Mech today

mechrat5150
View Profile Email Personal Message (Offline)
   
   
Re: Kerensky and Kurita
« Reply #155 on: June 24, 2008, 09:00:49 PM »
   Reply with quoteQuote Modify messageModify Remove messageRemove Split TopicSplit Topic
wolfcannon, in all honesty, what if you do fall short? It's my belief that you should write because you want to, because it's something you enjoy, ability or lack thereof is irrelevant. I don't believe that my writing ability could match master arminas' either, but that hasn't stopped me and it shouldn't stop you.
   Report to moderator   24.89.169.162 (?)
All I want is just a nibble of 'Mech armor & myomer... is that so wrong? Wink
(avatar by Knightmare)

 

"Beware the quiet ones, for you know not what they think." - me
Takiro
Administrator
Avatar
*****
Online Online

Posts: 5060

digitdoger
View Profile Email Personal Message (Online)
   
   
Re: Kerensky and Kurita
« Reply #156 on: June 24, 2008, 09:51:51 PM »
   Reply with quoteQuote Modify messageModify Remove messageRemove Split TopicSplit Topic
Well said MechRat. I absolutely sucked at writing in school cause I didn't enjoy it. Liam got me start with classic warship and sourcebook type stuff I ain't bad with but Master Arminas has a way with the novel. It flows so seemlessly and the characters are fantastic. I sh*t ya not this is the best BT novel since Endgame for me by a far margin. Throughly enjoyable. Wink
   Report to moderator   71.190.242.132 (?)


"It is better to be thought a fool, than open your mouth and remove all doubt."
    U. S. Grant

"Don't think about what I say, cause I don't."
   John Luther
blacktigeractual
Contributor
Champion
*****
Offline Offline

Posts: 722


View Profile Email Personal Message (Offline)
   
   
Re: Kerensky and Kurita
« Reply #157 on: June 25, 2008, 04:28:27 AM »
   Reply with quoteQuote Modify messageModify Remove messageRemove Split TopicSplit Topic
Quote from: wolfcannon on June 24, 2008, 07:46:05 PM
i still try although i fall miles short of Master writers such as Master Arminas
Wolf my man, Look if you love it just do it. I was always frightened to write, figured I'd get laughed at. You have an IDEA, go with it.  One thing I've learned since becoming involved here is the support we all give each other will allow us to improve.  It is this atmosphere that attracts creative people.  In the end you will be able to say hey, I did this.
(In the background Hussy steps on some dude plying Kumbya.)
   Report to moderator   74.72.92.219 (?)
Captain Bruce Gilmour
13th Assault Company "The Black Cats"
90th Heavy Assault Regiment



My sense of the absurd keeps me sane.
"Moral certainty is always a sign of cultural inferiority. The more uncivilized the person, the surer they are they know precisely what is right and what is wrong."
-Henry L. Mencken
"War is God's way of teaching Americans geography."
-Ambrose Bierce
"Enjoy please HappyJoyColdFun Pops now with more natural blue flavor!"
master arminas
Contributor
Champion
*****
Offline Offline

Posts: 664


View Profile Email Personal Message (Offline)
   
   
Re: Kerensky and Kurita
« Reply #158 on: June 25, 2008, 02:12:45 PM »
   Reply with quoteQuote Modify messageModify Remove messageRemove Split TopicSplit Topic
Wolf,

I'm not too certain of all that (master writer and all); it's been nearly a decade since I last set pen to paper--figuratively speaking in this day and age of MS Office.  We are all our own worst critic--except maybe for those reviewers with the New York Daily Post (man, they are tough!  Grin).

If you enjoy writing, then WRITE.  And the critics be damned in the doing.  Make your story work--in your way, no one else's.

Ciao,

Arminas tar Valantil
Grand Master of the Ebon Rose
   Report to moderator   131.95.113.77 (?)
Ice Hellion
Contributor
Grand Champion
*****
Offline Offline

Posts: 3087

Part time builder of fallen Empires


View Profile WWW Email Personal Message (Offline)
   
   
Re: Kerensky and Kurita
« Reply #159 on: June 25, 2008, 03:23:21 PM »
   Reply with quoteQuote Modify messageModify Remove messageRemove Split TopicSplit Topic
Quote from: Takiro on June 24, 2008, 09:51:51 PM
Well said MechRat. I absolutely sucked at writing in school cause I didn't enjoy it. Liam got me start with classic warship and sourcebook type stuff I ain't bad with

The same with me although what we learn in school is a bit different and more focused on producing logical things and my focus is more on BattleMechs.
   Report to moderator   81.56.118.167 (?)


In Turn they tested each Clan namesake in trial against the Ice Hellion's mettle. Each chased the Ice Hellion, hunting it down. All failed to match the predator's speed and grace. Khan Cage smiled and said, "And that is how we shall be."

The Remembrance (Clan Ice Hellion) Passage 5, Verse 3, Lines 1 - 5
erictheviking1
Poster
**
Offline Offline

Posts: 19


View Profile Email Personal Message (Offline)
   
   
Re: Kerensky and Kurita
« Reply #160 on: June 25, 2008, 05:18:09 PM »
   Reply with quoteQuote Modify messageModify Remove messageRemove Split TopicSplit Topic
i have to say something here. I have followed the B-tech  Universe for almost 15 years now.  I have read almost every novel and sourcebook that has been written. many of them several times.

Master Arminias, I have not been this excited and thrilled about a novel set in the B-tech Universe since I first picked up Warrior:Engarde by Michael Stackpole.  I cannot wait until your next installment. The speech you had Cameron made for the coronation made me want to stand up and cheer.  Please keep it coming.
   Report to moderator   69.21.43.203 (?)
"No battle plan ever survives contact with the enemy." Field Marshal Helmut von Moltke

"Information is Ammunition!" Adam Steiner

For the Last Cameron!!!
Takiro
Administrator
Avatar
*****
Online Online

Posts: 5060

digitdoger
View Profile Email Personal Message (Online)
   
   
Re: Kerensky and Kurita
« Reply #161 on: June 25, 2008, 06:57:34 PM »
   Reply with quoteQuote Modify messageModify Remove messageRemove Split TopicSplit Topic
Seriously, it is that damn good. Wink Perhaps after the novel is done I'll do a small setup book for those interested in RPG through and after this book.
   Report to moderator   71.190.242.132 (?)


"It is better to be thought a fool, than open your mouth and remove all doubt."
    U. S. Grant

"Don't think about what I say, cause I don't."
   John Luther
erictheviking1
Poster
**
Offline Offline

Posts: 19


View Profile Email Personal Message (Offline)
   
   
Re: Kerensky and Kurita
« Reply #162 on: June 25, 2008, 07:05:28 PM »
   Reply with quoteQuote Modify messageModify Remove messageRemove Split TopicSplit Topic
Oh please let there be an rpg! I want to SOOOOOO kick Amaris Butt!!! *wicked grin*  Especially in my Highlander!!  Grin
   Report to moderator   69.21.43.203 (?)
"No battle plan ever survives contact with the enemy." Field Marshal Helmut von Moltke

"Information is Ammunition!" Adam Steiner

For the Last Cameron!!!
master arminas
Contributor
Champion
*****
Offline Offline

Posts: 664


View Profile Email Personal Message (Offline)
   
   
Re: Kerensky and Kurita
« Reply #163 on: June 26, 2008, 09:23:01 AM »
   Reply with quoteQuote Modify messageModify Remove messageRemove Split TopicSplit Topic
As some of you know, 'Kerensky and Kurita' was just a working title--I couldn't come up with anything better when I began--and it began rather haphazardly.  I was talking to a buddy yesterday, and he suggested the following.  Let me know what you think.

'The Cameron Legacy--Book I of the Fall of the Star League.'


Arminas tar Valantil
Grand Master of the Ebon Rose
   Report to moderator   131.95.113.77 (?)
MechRat
Defender of Shattered Dawn
Administrator
Grand Champion
*****
Offline Offline

Posts: 1237

Help out a hungry Mechrat - Donate a 'Mech today

mechrat5150
View Profile Email Personal Message (Offline)
   
   
Re: Kerensky and Kurita
« Reply #164 on: June 26, 2008, 10:14:05 AM »
   Reply with quoteQuote Modify messageModify Remove messageRemove Split TopicSplit Topic
I like it. I don't know if you would need to include a disclaimer stating that this is an alternate BT universe or something like that.

"Book I" implies that there will be more to follow after this story concludes? I certainly hope so. Grin

Quote from: master arminas on June 26, 2008, 09:23:01 AM
and it began rather haphazardly.

If this story is what you call "haphazard", I can't imagine what you would consider "organized". If you ever do get this published, I would be happy to buy a copy - as long as I can get it autographed... Wink

wolfcannon
Advocate
****
Offline Offline

Posts: 441

megablastercannon@yahoo.com jmegacannon megablastercannon
View Profile WWW Email Personal Message (Offline)
   
   
Re: Kerensky and Kurita
« Reply #180 on: July 03, 2008, 06:07:46 AM »
   Reply with quoteQuote Modify messageModify Remove messageRemove Split TopicSplit Topic
Code:

Less than six months later on December 27, First Lord Richard Cameron was shot dead by Stefan Amaris. While awaiting the return of General Kerensky's forces from the Periphery, the Eridani Light Horse prepared for raids against Usurper forces, but was denied permission to stage from Combine space. Most of Coordinator Minoru Kurita's family had been taken hostage by Amaris, and the Combine could not afford to be seen as supporting the returning Kerensky or any other SLDF force. The Light Horse transferred its base of operations to the Free Worlds League after some initially heated talks with Captain-General Kenyon Marik, and having gotten settled the unit commenced operations immediatel Realizing that the Light Horse could not take the Usurper's forces head-on, Colonel Ezra Bradley, commander of the RCT, decided to launch hit-and-run strikes against the weaker worlds surrounding Terra. He hoped that these raids would disrupt Amaris's defensive preparations.

Bradley's plan achieved great success until the 19th Striker Regiment dropped on Amity. During a mission to disrupt operations at one of New Earth's many BattleMech factories, the 19th Striker Regiment was ambushed by three heavy Usurper regiments. Evidence points to a Kuritan agent within the 19th Striker's high command tipping Amaris to the raid, possibly a "good-faith" effort on the Coordinator's part to resolve the hostage situation. As well, the Combine held a vendetta against the Light Horse for the loss on Trondheim and for defeating many of their ronin in the Gunslinger duels. No one has ever accused House Kurita of forgetting a slur to their honor.


If such is the case, no Kuritan family members were released to compensate the Coordinator for his efforts --- and the 19th Striker was completely and utterly destroyed, a betrayal the Eridani Light Horse has never forgotten or forgiven.


Though sorely tempted to retaliate, Colonel Bradley continued his hit-and-run tactics until the Light Horse linked up with General Kerensky and his forces. Upon General Kerensky's return from conquering Amaris' own Rim Worlds Republic in 2772, Marik rescinded his permission for SLDF personnel to base from Marik space. The move (apparently to repay an old grudge against Kerensky) forced the surviving Eridani to stop their heretofore successful raiding campaign and rejoin the Regular Army in preparation for the real war to come. Then, and with great glee, the Eridani Light Horse avenged the loss of the 19th Regiment in long and bloody battles, whose climax was the invasion and liberation of Terra.


Amity is specifically stated as the planet they were dropped on and that the Amaris troops were on.  sorry folks this is official straight from the SLSB and the Cannon history of the 3rd RCT.
   Report to moderator   67.14.214.61 (?)
Jennifer Daniels
General
Daniels Avengers
master arminas
Contributor
Champion
*****
Offline Offline

Posts: 664


View Profile Email Personal Message (Offline)
   
   
Re: Kerensky and Kurita
« Reply #181 on: July 03, 2008, 09:38:18 AM »
   Reply with quoteQuote Modify messageModify Remove messageRemove Split TopicSplit Topic
You are correct, Wolf.  Amity is the planet the 19th Striker dropped on--and died in doing.  They were ambushed by Amaris forces after a traitor in the 3rd RCT command staff leaked the information of their drop to Amaris.

But, what everyone here is saying--that don't make no sense.  Amity is a world of the Free Worlds League--that NEVER belonged to the Hegemony, if my sources are to be believed.  With the one exception of that quote from the Merc's Handbook.

So, since this is an alternate universe anyway, we will just swap Jinjiro's original target--Amity--for a new world--Saffel, which kind of makes more sense anyway.  Saffell is fairly close to both Asta and the Hegemony/Combine border, making it much easier to supply--if the attack had been a success.

Since the traitor--Major Wallace Turner, in my universe--is still there, Amaris receives the information regarding the attack, only it's an attack on Saffel, not Amity.

Hope this helps, Wolf.  And thank you--all of you--for the continued support of my attempts at some small contribution to the universe that is BattleTech.

Arminas tar Valantil
Grand Master of the Ebon Rose

   Report to moderator   131.95.113.77 (?)
MechRat
Defender of Shattered Dawn
Administrator
Grand Champion
*****
Online Online

Posts: 1237

Help out a hungry Mechrat - Donate a 'Mech today

mechrat5150
View Profile Email Personal Message (Online)
   
   
Re: Kerensky and Kurita
« Reply #182 on: July 07, 2008, 08:11:36 AM »
   Reply with quoteQuote Modify messageModify Remove messageRemove Split TopicSplit Topic
Quote from: master arminas on July 03, 2008, 09:38:18 AM
Hope this helps, Wolf.  And thank you--all of you--for the continued support of my attempts at some small contribution to the universe that is BattleTech.

Just think of us as your proofreading force. I mean how many authors have this many people proofreading and fact checking - for free, no less... Grin All we ask is the chance to read and enjoy your work. Such a deal!

(P.S. - I wouldn't call this a small contribution, and it certainly is a welcome one.)
   Report to moderator   151.202.160.107 (?)
All I want is just a nibble of 'Mech armor & myomer... is that so wrong? Wink
(avatar by Knightmare)

 

"Beware the quiet ones, for you know not what they think." - me
master arminas
Contributor
Champion
*****
Offline Offline

Posts: 664


View Profile Email Personal Message (Offline)
   
   
Re: Kerensky and Kurita
« Reply #183 on: July 07, 2008, 09:09:14 AM »
   Reply with quoteQuote Modify messageModify Remove messageRemove Split TopicSplit Topic
September 30, 2767
Asta Defense Headquarters
North Continent, Asta
Terran Hegemony

For five nerve-wracking days, Stephen had watched the icons on the holographic projector crawl towards Asta.  With the Rim Worlds forces divided into four separate battle-groups, Admiral Matasuke should have been able to engage any one and defeat it in detail.  But they could not afford to try that, not against this enemy.  If he had sortied and defeated one—or even two—the remainder would skirt past and strike the planet.  No, Matasuke had remained in orbit, until thirty minutes ago.  Thirty minutes ago, the one hundred and twenty-three ships of Matasuke’s fleet had fired their thrusters and moved to engage the enemy that had finally crossed the orbit of Sapphire—Asta’s largest moon.

Stephen looked across the command center.  There was Minoru, speaking softly with Aleksandyr; the Otomo and Colonel Hall in attendance.  Sam Anders engaged in a video conference with Gregor Samasov, still on the surface with his troops—where he had decided to remain.  Hiroyoshi and Gerald watching everyone in the room like a pair of hunting raptors.  The dozens of personnel—Kerensky’s staff, SLDF troopers, Combine naval and army officers, Astan volunteers—who manned the stations and coordinated the defense efforts.  Stephen swallowed hard.  He was proud of these people, his people all.  Even the Combine personnel were his people, he realized.  He was First Lord, not just of the Hegemony where he had been born, but of everyone throughout the entirety of settled space.  And today, his heart swelled with pride at the courage and confidence his people showed.

Admiral Matasuke appeared on one of the monitors on the far wall, and Major Julian Chen—one of Kerensky’s staff that had accompanied him to Asta aboard the Borodino—stood and spoke. “My Lords, General Kerensky, its time.”

Stephen nodded to himself and made his way across the command center to the small platform where two chairs—and space for a life-support chair—had been placed.  Colonel Hall wheeled General Kerensky in his chair to the empty space in the middle and Stephen leaned over and grasped the man’s right arm, above the wrist.

“God speed, General, and good hunting.”

“Thank you, First Lord.  Lord Kurita?”

Minoru Kurita nodded as he sat besides Kerensky to the left as Stephen did to the right.  Kurita clutched in his hand the case containing the ancient ‘Z Flag’—a swatch of silk cloth nearly eight hundred and fifty years old.  The very flag flown by Togo at Tsushima; by Nagumo at Pearl Harbor.  That flag had been aboard the Mikasa ever since she had commissioned into service two hundred and seventeen years ago.  Yesterday, Matasuke sent it to the surface in the hands of an aide, ordered to place it in the hands of the Coordinator himself.  Stephen had been there when Minoru received it.  He understood the meaning of the gesture.  Even if we die here today, the passing of that flag said, what we fight for lives on.  The Mikasa will live on, even if this incarnation falls.  He understood, and he approved.

It had been decided that General Kerensky would speak on their behalf, so Stephen and Minoru waited.  Finally, after an eternity, Kerensky nodded, and the technicians sent the signal.


September 30, 2767
RWS Hand of Destiny
Asta Local Space
Terran Hegemony

“Sir, we are receiving a transmission from the planet.”

Commodore Jerem Daragou looked up from the remote conference with his three battle-group commanders.  A transmission?  Now?  His flotilla was less than thirty minutes from weapons range with the Combine ships.  In five minutes his fighters would launch to sweep the heavens clear of their aerospace support, leaving his superior numbers and firepower to crush the Dragon’s ships like eggshells, before turning the lovely little planet on his screen to a burnt cinder.

“Yes, Lieutenant.  What do they want?”

“I . . . I think you should see this, sir.”  Elias Tambora was stuttering and seemed shaken.  Daragou shook his head.  The most difficult part of reactivating all of the old Hegemony and League ships of the reserve—as well as the captured and incomplete modern designs—had been the manpower.  Already stretched past the breaking point, the Rim Worlds navy had simply not had enough men to crew them all.  Amaris had an answer for that, of course.  The dozens, scores, of civilian cargo ships that had helped carry his forces to the Hegemony had been stood down, their crews press-ganged into service as conscripts for the Navy.

That had helped some, and given Daragou trained spacers, but not nearly enough.  So Amaris reached down into the Army, and transferred several thousand Army personnel into the Navy.  Personnel who had never served aboard a capital warship, personnel who might, today, have six or seven weeks of experience with their systems.  That fact worried him, but it was out of his control.  Lieutenant Tambora, though, he wasn’t one of the new crew.  No, Tambora had served with him for the past five years.

“Put it on the main projector, Lieutenant.”

“Sir.”

Daragou waited as the holo-graphic projector shifted colors then solidified into a view of three men.  He sat bolt upright as he recognized two of them.  Aleksandyr Kerensky and Minoru Kurita!

“Good morning, gentlemen.  I am Aleksandyr Kerensky, Commanding General of the Star League Defense Forces.  Here with me—on Asta—are Minoru Kurita, the Coordinator of the Draconis Combine and Stephen Cameron, First Lord of the Star League and Director-General of the Terran Hegemony.”

Daragou snarled.  Kerensky, here!  The Emperor would reward him beyond all measure if he brought news of the death not only of the Cameron, but of Kerensky and Kurita as well.

“I am Commodore Jerem Daragou, commanding the First Flotilla of his Imperial Majesty’s Navy.  Have you a desire to surrender yourself to us and spare this world our wrath, General?”

Kerensky shook his head.  “No, Commodore.  I only want to convince you to lay aside this madness.  Power down your ships and accept boarding parties and you will be interned for the duration.  Unless you or your men have committed war crimes against innocent civilians, you will be fairly treated as prisoners of war, after which you can return to your homes in the Rim.”

Daragou couldn’t help himself; he emitted a bark of laughter.  “General, have you not seen the numbers of our two forces?  If you do not surrender, then you, and the Coordinator, and the so-called First Lord sitting beside you will die, as will the entire planet.  I give you my word, surrender now, and I will neither fire upon nor bomb the planetary surface.”

“Yes, Commodore, quite an impressive force you have.  Of stolen ships.  Hegemony and League ships for the most part,” he smiled as he said that, and Daragou felt a cold chill run up his spine.  He was up to something.  Kerensky knew something that he did not, but what?

“Have you never wondered, Commodore, why the Hegemony and the League never seemed to place much emphasis upon defending and guarding the ships placed in the Inactive Reserve, ships freely orbiting in the Terran system, the New Earth system, the Keid system, and others?  Why, even before we were engaged against the Taurian Separatists we did not place armed space stations in their midst to keep dishonest people from attempting to hijack our property?”

“Have you never wondered, Commodore, why we would treat so many mega-tons of capital warships in such a cavalier fashion?  After all, they were only inactive.  As you well know, their K-F cores still function, their maneuvering drives still function, their weapons needed only fresh munitions to operate.  So why did we leave them, sitting there alone, without a guard, an open invitation to any thief who could sneak aboard to hijack a cruiser or battleship of the Hegemony?”

Daragou frowned.  He had never considered the League Navy’s Reserve in such a light.  Where was Kerensky going with this?  But the sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach grew.

“The reason, Commodore, that we were not concerned with a hijacking was simple.  We ensured that it could never happen.”  Kerensky nodded to someone off-screen.  “You see, whenever a ship of the Hegemony or the League is retired from active service, Commodore, it is moth-balled.  As part of that operation, all systems and software are upgraded to current standards.  During the work to inactivate a ship, one of the many, many procedures is the installation of a small, unmarked black box module—one of the many thousands scattered across the entire ship.  None of the technicians who installed the module were aware of its purpose, and no records are kept of either the module nor its installation.”

“This module was first developed during the reign of First Lord Ian Cameron, two centuries ago, Commodore.  Since then, its very existence has been passed along from Commanding General to Commanding Admiral, down to me.  No one else in the entire Star League knew of it, so of course you could take no precautions against its activation.  I am quite sorry, Commodore, but I simply shall not let you use those stolen ships of our Reserve against us.”  And Kerensky’s face broke into a broad grin.

“Commodore!  Every ship in the fleet is receiving a data-stream burst transmission from the planet!”

“Shut down all communications receptors!  Shut them all down!”  Daragou screamed, but it was far, far too late for that.


September 30, 2767
RWS Tempest
Asta Local Space
Terran Hegemony

Aboard the ancient Monsoon class battleship Tempest, the data-stream burst reached the comm receptors less than three seconds after being broadcast.  The receptors recognized the signal and relayed it into the ship through the optical fiber cables, doing exactly what the communications system had been designed to do—communicate.  This transmission though was not intended for the human crew of the ship, but for the central computer core.  So, obedient to the hard-wired instructions, the comm system relayed the transmission directly to the core.  More precisely to a single black box module that had been installed one hundred and sixty years earlier when the Tempest had been retired from service.  For one hundred and sixty years that module had slept, like a well trained dog, while keeping one ear cocked, waiting for its master’s whistle.  Now it heard that whistle, and it awoke.

Not in the least drowsy after its long sleep, the module examined the data-stream.  Yes, everything matched the hard-wired commands etched into its memory, and the confirmation was there as well.  Good, now it could finally do its job.  The module began to issue commands of its own, written in computer code two centuries before by men long dead.  But the module did not know that—and could not have cared if it did.  It only wanted to do the job it had been designed to do, like a good dog eager to please.

The first command—issued one second after the transmission reached the ship—shut down every instrument panel and control console on the ship, cutting power to every board and depriving the human crew of any measure of control.  It also contacted the computers of every DropShip attached to the Tempest’s hull and every aerospace fighter carried onboard and replicated itself into their memory, then activated aboard those ships as well.  The anti-viral software of the attached vessels and fighters let the command pass without even trying to halt it; the worm had the proper access codes, after all.

Receiving an acknowledgement that the first task had been completed, the module sent a second command forth.  Throughout the Tempest—and her attached DropShips and her aerospace fighters—powered hatches slammed open and locked in place; every powered hatch and cockpit aboard, including those that lay on the outer hull and the half-dozen cargo bay doors.  A hurricane of air and heat and more than a few bodies erupted from the Tempest and her parasites as they bled air and life like a living creature would blood.

A third command went out, and the fusion power generators went into emergency shutdown mode.  Power throughout the ship failed, and back-up batteries began to come online.  In an afterthought, the module sent a command to the fuel transfer system, opening vents and ports on the outer hull, and flushing the tanks to vacuum.  Finally, the module reached the fourth and last command function.  It confirmed the order, and then transmitted it deep into the heart of the central computer core—without which nothing on the ship would ever again function.

The core recognized the order, and asked for a confirmation.  It received the correct one.  It was a most unusual order, one it had never before received, but the idiot-savant acknowledged the order as valid and began to implement it.  The Tempest shuddered as the core began to reformat, erasing all software and data-banks as the massive computer overwrote itself, selfishly committing suicide.

Within seven seconds of the data-stream burst being transmitted—four seconds after receiving it—the Tempest was an inert piece of metal, cold and dead, drifting through space, as were the six DropShips attached to her hull.  Of the six hundred and forty-eight men who comprised her crew, seventeen managed to avoid death from vacuum exposure by donning space suits in time.  The rest were not quite so lucky.  And this was only one of the sixty-eight ships of the Reserve in Daragou’s flotilla affected by Kerensky’s transmission.


September 30, 2767
DCS Mikasa
Asta Local Space
Terran Hegemony

Admiral Matasuke looked with pleasure at the display as the precise Rim Worlds formations disintegrated into chaos.  Sixty-eight of the Rim vessels—fourteen battleships, eleven cruisers, twenty-four frigates, and nineteen destroyers—lost power and began to helplessly drift, bleeding air and fuel into space.

“Captain Abe, the Fleet will advance.  Target only active Rim Worlds vessels, leave the remainder alone.  And, Captain, order the carriers to launch their fighter strike, if you please.”

“Hai, Admiral.”

The Rim Worlds force had lost their decisive numerical advantage; in fact, Matasuke now outnumbered his opponent by fifteen ships.  In the weight of ships, however, Daragou still held the superiority; though he would not hold that superiority for long.

“Communications, please ask General Anders to send the execute command.”

“Hai, Admiral.”


September 30, 2767
SLS Black Lion
Jump Point KV-112 (Uninhabited)
Empire of Amaris (Terran Hegemony)

Basil Christophos and Alicia Hall waited on the bridge of the Star League battlecruiser.  Arriving at the jump point four days ago, he had sent ahead a signal over the hyper-fax—as some called the black box communications units—to Asta.  They had received a reply almost instantly—from none other than General Kerensky himself.  Terse transmissions conveyed the situation on Asta, and Kerensky’s orders for himself and Hall.  So, they waited.  Waited for the transmission ordering them to jump the 247th to the L-1 Jump Point, the closest and smallest of the nine surrounding Asta.  It would be a hot jump, straight into a battle, but neither Basil nor Hall had worries about that.  No, they were far more concerned with the very tight spacing his command would have to assume for the jump.  Ships entering or exiting jump could do so only at Jump Points, everyone knew that.  But the real kicker was that if a substantial mass—such as another WarShip—lay in close proximity of the jump, BAD THINGS happened.  Sometimes the ship never appeared and was lost forever, its fate unknown.  Other times a massive explosion occurred, destroying both the arriving ship and the one already present.  Sometimes, the arriving ship arrived, to find the vessel too close to its jump point torn to ribbons by the still imprecisely understood gravitational forces associated with a hyper-jump.  Basil and Hall would be making this jump at the absolute minimum separation between ships.  But jumps were seldom so precise.  A single error in plotting aboard a single ship before the jump could result in two ships attempting to jump into the same exact coordinates.  BAD THINGS, indeed.

“General Christophos, we have received the execute signal from Asta.”

Commodore Hall informed him as she read the message form just handed her.  He nodded, and took a deep breath.  “Let’s do this, then, Commodore.”

As Hall began to issue orders, Basil placed his hand on the breast of his uniform, touching the rosary and crucifix he wore beneath and began reciting a Hail Mary.


September 30, 2767
RWS Hand of Destiny
Asta Local Space
Terran Hegemony

Commodore Daragou was in shock.  One-third of his flotilla has just been disabled.  His decisive superiority had evaporated to nothing.  And on the projector display, the Combine ships were accelerating and launching fighters.

“Launch all fighters, battle-groups two, three, and four engage the Draconis ships!”

“Sir.”

He turned to his executive officer.  “Harley, pass the order for our battle-group to go to maximum acceleration, and load nuclear weapons in all launch tubes—programmed for saturation coverage of the northern continental mass of Asta.”

“Sir.”

Daragou forced himself to look back at the projector.  He would be lucky to extract twenty ships from this mess.  But, if he plastered Asta from orbit—killing Cameron, Kerensky, and Kurita—then maybe the Emperor would not feed him to his fish.


September 30, 2767
Slayer Katana Actual
Asta Local Space
Terran Hegemony

Jorgensen grimaced as another of his flight exploded to his left.  Fifteen hundred Combine fighters were part of this strike—the remaining eight hundred covered the fleet.  It was the largest aerospace fighter operation in which he had ever participated.  Unfortunately, even with the surprise General Kerensky had played, the enemy had well over two thousand of his own fighters meeting them.  And to make matters worse, the surviving Rim Worlds vessels were firing nuclear weapons like there was no tomorrow.  As he weaved his fighter through the fire, another nuclear detonation announced the death of Kaga’s attack group.

“Katana flight, Katana actual, follow me in, balls to the walls, boys!”

There had been no resupply, so this time his fighters were going in with their fixed armament only.  Of course, that meant that their hulls were not weighted down, so each Slayer could attain four and a half gravities of acceleration, more akin to that of forty-ton medium aerospace fighter, not his eighty-ton heavy.  His attack and strike groups—down now to seventy-four Slayers, with sixty-three Shilone’s riding cover—ripped past the Rim Worlds fighter screen, and his display cleared as it showed the capital warships closing fast.

“Attack Group 41 we are taking the Luxor Alpha; 43 Luxor Beta is your target.  Strike 42 and 44 give us cover!  After the strike split into flights and take targets of opportunity.  Do not, I repeat, do not return to the carrier unless you are at bingo fuel or winchester for your weapons.”

Hurried acknowledgements crackled across the static filled radio—interference from the nuclear detonations was becoming a problem.  Jorgenson banked hard, bearing down on the captured Star League heavy cruiser in his sights, as the thirty-six survivor Slayer’s of attack group 41 followed in his wake.  Heavy fire erupted from the ship—it was the latest generation of League heavy cruiser, more powerful than many existing battlecruisers.  Jorgenson’s fighters began to explode around him.  Screaming in on the target at maximum thrust, he strained to breath against the crushing hand of gravity.  Reaching weapons range, Jorgenson opened fire; his pilots following his lead.

Suddenly, his Slayer was hit by enemy fire.  Red lights sprang up on all the consoles, some steady and unblinking, others flashing urgently.  Jorgenson continued to bore in as more of his fighters exploded into dust around him.  A second shot hit his fighter, and he looked down in horror as his life support system began dumping his oxygen reserve into his cockpit.  An electrical spark from the damaged console ignited the gas and Jorgenson screamed as his own fighter roasted him alive.

Fourteen Slayer’s and thirteen Shilone’s survived the strike, the two Luxor class cruisers did not.


September 30, 2767
SLS Black Lion
L-1 Jump Point, Asta
Terran Hegemony

Basil breathed a sigh of relief when the systems stabilized and the plot showed that they were in Asta, and in one piece.  In fact, all of Hall’s ships had come through.  He turned towards her command chair, but before he could speak she began barking orders in a tone he had never before heard her use.

“Launch all fighters and DropShips!  Weapons, target that McKenna and the Alaska!  Maneuvering, put us between them and the planet!”

A ragged chorus of ‘aye-ayes’ answered that string of orders from Alicia Hall.  He looked at the plot as red icons began to appear very close to their own green ones.  He stared at her as the Black Lion began shuddering from the firing of over fifty heavy naval autocannon on rapid-fire mode.  She shrugged, “General, it seems that we arrived in the midst of a battle.”

“Well, Commodore, look at it this way, you finally get to kill someone and it isn’t me.”

She glared at Basil for a moment, then began laughing and shook a finger at Basil.  “Someday, sir, someday, you will get yours.  You might want to go below, sir, this is gonna get a little rough.”

“No, Alicia, we end this as we began it.  Together.”

The Black Lion shuddered around them as dozens of beams and shells impacted her heavy armor, then the Alaska class ship in the projector detonated underneath their withering hail of fire.  A cheer went up from around the bridge, as Alicia Hall took Basil Christophos extended hand and shook it.

“All right, people, that was good.  Now pick another target, damn it, and do it again!”  Commodore Hall shouted across her bridge.  Basil shook his head, and considered, for the first time really, just how attractive Commodore Hall was.  Damn it all, he thought, if only I were twenty years younger.

At that exact moment it seemed as though the very hammer of the gods slammed into the side of the Black Lion, and everything went black for Basil.


September 30, 2767
RWS Hand of Destiny
Asta Local Space
Terran Hegemony

Daragou cursed viciously as the twelve brand new, fresh Star League ships popped into existence between him and the planet.  The twenty-two ships of his battle-group had them outnumbered and outgunned, but they reacted so fast, faster by far than his crews did.  Before the hyper-space emergence wave had even settled they opened fire, rocking the Hand of Destiny with just a dozen hits.  Swift Death was not so lucky—she took the brunt of the fire from two Luxor class ships, as well as a Potemkin class troop cruiser and a Black Lion class battlecruiser.  Even as the Swift Death exploded, the Star League Navy ships began launching their fighters and DropShips—and there were a lot of them.

“Order our fighters to keep theirs off my back, damn it, Harley!  Weapons, target that damn Black Lion!”

The McKenna class battleship skewed as the helm turned them broadside onto the League ships.  Then twenty-four heavy Naval PPC’s spat coherent energy, splintering armor plate.

Daragou pounded his fist on the command chair.  “Yes, now fin . . .” an explosion interrupted his order as the enemy Potemkin completed her own turn, and returned nearly the same amount of fire into the Hand of Destiny.  “Destroy that ship, weapons, NOW!” he screamed, forgetting about the Black Lion for the moment.


September 30, 2767
DCS Mikasa
Asta Local Space
Terran Hegemony

Smoke from an electrical fire stung Admiral Matasuke’s eyes as he peered at the display set near his knee on his command chair.  Mikasa had taken heavy damage from the Rim Worlds fighters, despite the best efforts of his pilots and weapon crews.  Both sides’ aerospace complements had engaged in an orgy of destruction over the past twenty minutes—both were now spent, racing away trying to find a functioning bay in which to land and refuel, before their tanks ran dry and they joined the drifting debris.

Nearly two-thirds of Matasuke’s ships were air-streaming wrecks; or worse, expanding clouds of dust and debris.  But of the eighty-six Rim Worlds ships that had turned to engage him, only eleven battered, broken hulks remained.  Twenty-two enemy ships though had evaded his forces during the fight and were pushing hard for the planet.  He had let them go; knowing Commodore Hall and her flotilla were arriving there momentarily.  And they had.  Commodore Hall’s ships had stopped dead the Rim Worlders driving for the planet, but at a frightful price.  All of Hall’s ships were battered derelicts, those that still existed at least.  Only six Rim Worlds ships in that force remained—a McKenna, a Thresher, two Dauntless class Rim Worlds frigates, and two Lola III destroyers, all of them streaming air from multiple hull breaches.  And they were moving towards the planet again.

He pivoted his chair towards Captain Abe as he considered his options.  There were not many.  “Captain Abe.”

“Admiral?” he replied, his face tight from the pain of his newly broken right arm, courtesy of the last series of hits that had nearly broken Mikasa in half.

“Signal General Anders.  Have General Samasov launch the reserve fighters from the surface; we won’t be able to stop those six ships in time.”

Before the order could be passed, yet another explosion erupted through the hull of the Mikasa, as a badly damaged Rim Worlds cruiser fired into her side.  Two Combine cruisers and a frigate—with perhaps the total firepower of an undamaged light cruiser remaining between—targeted the Rim Worlds ship and it exploded.

“Hai, Admiral.”

Matasuke looked at the display, at the enemy ships creeping closer to the point where they could bring their weapons to bear on the planet.  And he hoped—he hoped and prayed that he had sent the order in time.


September 30, 2767
SLS Black Lion
High Orbit, Asta
Terran Hegemony

Emergency lighting glowed red across the shattered bridge of the battlecruiser.  Bodies floated in zero-g as the ship drifted.  Commodore Alicia Hall looked over her ruined command in a state of shock.  She had no intact weapons left and the drive was capable of only a half-g of acceleration.  Her ship’s armor had been shattered; she was streaming atmosphere from scores of breaches in the hull.  The K-F drive was off-line; it was unlikely her ship would ever leave the Asta system.  The remainder of the 247th wasn’t any much better off—the Aleksandyr Nevsky, a Potemkin class, had been lost with all hands.  Both of her cruisers were broken wrecks; the frigate Constellation had gone up when her magazines detonated, her sister ship President was tumbling away, without power or life-support.  Of her six destroyers, only the Reuben James—a Lola III class ship—had any functioning weapons remaining, but her maneuvering drives had failed completely.  At least the DropShips carrying the 11th and 65th Divisions had made safe landing on Gloaming—Asta’s small, inner moon.  They would wait there until the fight was over—‘Mech, armor, and infantry transports had no business being anywhere near a capital warship.  Her tracking systems were still functioning and she could see she had failed.  The enemy ships were limping towards planetary orbit.  Six of them, all hurt badly, but still capable of maneuvering; perhaps still capable of firing nuclear weapons against the planet.  She closed her eyes and prayed for a miracle, none of her ships could catch them short of their firing point—or do anything other than ram if they did.  Please, God, don’t let this have been in vain, she pleaded, reaching down to grasp one last time the lifeless hand of General Basil Christophos.


September 30, 2767
RWS Hand of Destiny
High Orbit, Asta
Terran Hegemony

Commodore Daragou coughed as the last of the acrid smoke was pulled from his bridge by the powerful fans set in the ducts behind the bulkheads.  Emergency lighting showed his systems were on the brink of failure—and his other ships were in worse condition.  But his missile launchers were still functional, and the magazine containing the nuclear weapons was intact.  That damn Star League naval officer had delayed him, and broken his battle-group.  But neither he nor the Draconis ships could stop him now.

“Harley, load nuclear bombardment rounds into all launch tubes.  Fire the moment you enter range.”

“Aye-aye, Sir,” his XO replied from the gunnery station.  His weapons officer had died during that last exchange of fire, so Harley had taken over.  Good.  Just five more minutes and he would have the range.

“Sir,” an exhausted voice called out from Tracking.  “Sir, we have three hundred and twenty-four fighters inbound from the surface, heading on a reciprocal bearing.  They will intercept in two minutes and twenty seconds.”

Daragou’s shoulders dropped.  Three quarters of his weapons were gone, so was ninety percent of his armor.  He had severe internal damage.  And only fourteen fighters left in his entire battle-group.  He lifted his head.

“Communications.  Is the transmitter still working?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Good.  Broadcast our surrender on all channels.  Maneuvering kill our forward momentum, and put us in stable orbit out of weapons range of the surface, then shut down the drives.  Harley, disarm the nukes and safe the tubes.”

His bridge crew looked at him, disbelief in their eyes.  Daragou stood.  “It’s over, people.  We will spend the rest of the war in a P.O.W. camp, and then hopefully go home after that damn madman we call an Emperor has be. . .” CRACK!  The sharp discharge of a pistol echoed across the bridge as the front of Daragou’s skull erupted in a fountain of blood, brains, and bits of bone.

Commander Harley Eversol glared across the bridge from behind the smoking barrel of the pistol that he had just fired into the back of Daragou’s head.  “Belay that order.  Maneuvering go to maximum thrust on all drives; full speed ahead.  NOW, sailor.”

As the bridge crew leapt to follow his orders, Harley turned back to his control panel and locked a pair of nuclear weapons on the incoming fighters.  Then he turned the firing key.

*****************************************************

The battle was short and vicious on both sides.  The Rim Worlds forces fired a dozen nuclear weapons into the midst of the Combine fighters, killing over two hundred.  Then the aerospace fighters assigned to General Samasov broke past the missile barrage and entered their own range.  When the explosions died away not even one Rim Worlds vessel remained near Asta.
   Report to moderator   131.95.113.77 (?)
master arminas
Contributor
Champion
*****
Offline Offline

Posts: 664


View Profile Email Personal Message (Offline)
   
   
Re: Kerensky and Kurita
« Reply #184 on: July 07, 2008, 09:10:17 AM »
   Reply with quoteQuote Modify messageModify Remove messageRemove Split TopicSplit Topic
October 11, 2767
Branson House
North Continent, Asta
Terran Hegemony

We stopped them, Stephen thought.  But god in heaven, the cost!  Forty-nine Combine WarShips destroyed, another twenty-four fit only to send to the breakers; every last one of the remaining fifty survivors damaged—some critically, including Mikasa, the sole surviving Combine battleship.  At the end, even the six carriers had closed to weapons range and opened fire on the enemy, suffering damage themselves.  Commodore Hall’s 247th Armed Transport Flotilla had suffered even worse casualties, proportionately.  Of the twelve ships she had brought to the fight, six had been destroyed.  None of the rest remained capable of performing a jump, and if the six survivors had enough intact weapons between them to arm a corvette, it would surprise him.  At least her transports had remained behind at KV-112; the unarmed JumpShips would have been slaughtered had they followed her.  They were here now, though, with the remainder of the late General Christophos’s two divisions and support personnel.

There had been sixty thousand dead and wounded aboard the ships and fighters of the Combine and the Star League.  But those casualties paled when compared to the Rim Worlds forces.  None of the Rim Worlds vessels had surrendered—they fought until they could not fight any longer, and then tried to ram.  Of the one hundred and fifty thousand crewmen Commodore Daragou had begun this operation with; there were a grand total of three hundred and forty-seven survivors, mainly aboard the ships lobotomized by General Kerensky.

Kerensky and Kurita and their staffs had worked wonders; from the depths of the Combine the last reserves of the Kurita Fleet had answered their call.  Minoru had stripped his borders of WarShips completely, though it would be months before they all arrived.  A massive redeployment of SLDF assets—begun a month earlier—had been increased vastly in size and power.  Those ships and troops would start arriving shortly after the first of the new year.  Still, with the arrival of Admiral Genda and the Saffel Strike Force yesterday, their strength was actually higher than it had been for the fight nearly two weeks ago.  If you included in the count the as of yet unrepaired WarShips of the Combine that could still somewhat engage in combat, that is.

And Genda brought word of Saffel with him.  When he left Jinjiro and his people behind, he also left a satellite in orbit; that satellite recorded everything that had occurred once the Strike Force ran—and the Rim Worlders had pursued.  It told the tale of Jinjiro’s final stand, and of what happened afterwards.  The Rim World Fleet broke off their pursuit and returned to Saffel where they boarded all of Amaris’s troops.  Then, seemingly in a fit of pique, they bombarded the world with nuclear weapons from orbit.  Saffel—and her population of one hundred and forty million—was now dead; a world contaminated by radiation, locked in the grip of a new ice age brought on by the thousands of nuclear detonations.  It would be centuries—perhaps millennia—before man could set foot there again.  Compared to those deaths, the twenty-six thousand additional casualties suffered by the Strike Force had seemed insignificant.  Insignificant to all but Minoru Kurita.  Today the Combine mourned the loss of his heir and eldest son.  Stephen had offered his condolences, but though Minoru wept in private, he insisted that Jinjiro had redeemed his honor.  That he had become a true Kurita in the mold of Shiro and Urizen at the end.  And Stephen agreed; mourning not for Jinjiro, but for the pain inflicted on the man he had come to know as a friend, Minoru.

There was good news, though.  He had received a reply from John Davion.  The Federated Suns had declared war on Amaris and were mobilizing for action.  In fact, an AFFS Task Force would be accompanying the Davion Prince here for the conference next month, the Task Force to remain when John Davion returned to his realm, which should increase our naval strength by about a third.  Barbara Liao would be attending as well, and while she was not declaring war, she did say that in order to ensure her safety, she would be accompanied to Asta by no less than forty warships of the Confederation Fleet.  None of those would remain when she left, but her ‘volunteers’ were beginning to arrive on Northwind, as eager for action as the Highlanders they followed.  Robert Steiner would be attending, but he was bringing only a single ship, the LCS Tharkad, one of their newest battlecruisers—and that ship would also take him home afterwards.  Kenyon Marik had not even bothered to reply to his message.  That worried him, for the Free Worlds had one of the largest Fleets among the Great Powers, second only to the Star League’s own navy—a distant second.

All three of the periphery leaders, Nicoletta Calderon, Janina Centrella, and Allyce Avellar would be present as well.  None would bring any WarShips—they didn’t have any, or rather they weren’t supposed to have any—or troops.  That was fine with Stephen; for soon enough he would have the troops and ships he needed to end this war.  End it on his terms.

*****************************************************

Aleksandyr Kerensky sat in the First Lord’s office, waiting for his arrival.  He was no stranger to casualties—not in his thirty-eight year career as an officer in the First Lord’s Defense Force.  But, he had forgotten—if he had ever learned—just how bloody naval combat between two bitterly opposed forces could become.  Once, just once, in their entire history had the SLDF and allies acting under its aegis taken such heavy casualties, the Taurian Campaign of the Reunification Wars.

And the Taurians did not have the SDS, he thought.  He shuddered, as he considered the eighty-four worlds equipped with the defensive networks.  And then, there is Terra.  Terra.  The homeworld, whose defenses are more powerful than anyone in history had ever assaulted.  But, they would have to face the ‘Caspers’ and the SDS ground bases—because once the SLDF arrived here in force, Amaris would have to withdraw from worlds not protected by those shields.  The thought of those casualties though, that sent his blood pressure soaring.

The door opened, and Stephen Cameron walked in, alone.

“Good morning, General Kerensky, thank you for coming to see me,” he said as he walked over and shook the General’s hand.

“I am a serving officer, Lord Cameron.  Your request is literally an order for me.”

“Would you care for some tea, General?”

“Da, First Lord, that would be kind of you.”

Stephen sat behind his desk and pressed a button, “Hiroyoshi, General Kerensky would like a cup of tea, please, and may I have a cup of coffee?  Thank you.”

Hiroyoshi entered, carrying two cups on a tray, which he sat down, handing one each to Stephen and Kerensky, then withdrew.

Kerensky sipped the hot liquid, considering Stephen.  For the last week, he had been . . . depressed was too strong a word, ah, moody.  The number of casualties had hit him hard, and his reaction had been quite revealing.  Be careful, my Lord, he thought.  Your empathy does you credit, but your enemies will seek to turn it against you.  This Stephen, though, the one sitting before him now, this Stephen showed so signs of his emotional struggles.

“If I may ask, First Lord, why did you summon me here?”

Stephen leaned back, looking at Kerensky.  For a long time, he did not answer; he just sipped his coffee and looked at Kerensky.  Finally he set the cup down.

“Two reasons, General, Aleksandyr.  We won a great—but pyrrhic—victory here two weeks back.  I know that you—and your staff, and Minoru’s staff—are working on where we go from here; but I have been considering Saffel.  Having nightmares about Saffel, actually, Aleksandyr.”

He looked up and gave Kerensky a weary, sad, smile.  Kerensky was beginning to get concerned—we cannot have the First Lord suffer a nervous breakdown, by all the gods, no.

“I have spoken with Sam and Ezra, and I think I have the gist of what you have planned next.”  He paused and waited, until Kerensky motioned for him to continue.

“A slow, steady, and unrelenting campaign that will retake about a dozen Hegemony worlds a year—and create panic in Amaris’s command structure as they realize they can’t stop you.  That not even the SDS will stop you.  You plan to take the outer systems first, to cut Amaris off from the flow of supplies and material he is shipping to Terra from those worlds.  Then hit Terra with everything you have left.  Right?”

“At its most basic, First Lord, that is indeed the seed of the plan that we now have.”

Stephen slumped in his chair, and then looked back up, staring Kerensky right in the eyes.  “It’s the wrong plan, General.”

Kerensky stopped in the middle of taking a sip and looked at Stephen.  He sat back, and once more motioned for the Fist Lord to go on.

“You are—pardon me if this treads a little too close to home, sir—treating this as if it were an action against a Periphery State.  As if we are fighting the Reunification War, again.  You want to break the morale and the will of Amaris’s troops, but while you do that, the SLDF will be gutted, General.  I know that, and you know that.  And your commanders know that.”

“So, First Lord, what would you have us do?”

“The one thing Amaris will never expect, General.  We gather every last man, every last ship we have and that our allies will contribute and we hit Terra itself next.  We smash his command and control there and sever the head from his armed forces.”

Kerensky shook his head.  “The casualties from the Terran SDS, First Lord, it . . . “

“. . . will be there, Aleksandyr if we assault in January or ten years down the road.  We will still have to fight our way past those defenses, and if we wait, our casualties before that might prove to be our undoing.  Right now, General, we are as strong as we will ever be.  Now, not in ten years after liberating over one hundred worlds.  You just saw in the naval battle here what we will be fighting.  Now is the time, General.  Terra should be our next target.  Decapitate the Rim Worlds forces, and maybe we can convince the rest to lay down arms, without a fight.”

Kerensky set down his cup on the saucer.  “I know you are concerned, First Lord, and I will have my staff look into your request and . . . “

“It’s not a request, General,” Stephen said roughly.  He slid a paper across the desk.  Kerensky lifted it and read it quickly.  It was directive, a direct order from the First Lord, the Commander in Chief of the Star League Defense Forces to him, the Commanding General, ordering him and staff to plan and prepare to execute an assault upon Terra within the next ten months time.

“And if I refuse, First Lord?”

“Then I will ask for your resignation, General Kerensky, regrettably.”

Kerensky nodded.  “If . . . IF I do this, First Lord, put together an operations plan and have my staff run simulations, and I find that it is too risky, I will not give the execute order.”

“Fair enough, General.  Just look at the idea, that’s all I ask.  If it can work, we can end this war in one year instead of ten—or more.”

Kerensky sat back, and looking down at the floor, smiled suddenly.  Well, he is definitely not a Richard, be careful of what you wish for Aleksandyr, you just might get it.  He looked up.

“You said there were two things, First Lord.  What is the second?”

Stephen looked down, his face flushed.  Then he looked Kerensky in the eyes.  “My family and I owe you a great deal, Aleksandyr.  When this is over, I want you to retire from the SLDF.”

A sudden cold shock ran through Kerensky’s body.  Retire?  From the only life he had ever known?

“They say the only reward for a job well done is another job, General Kerensky.  And when this is over, I have one for you, if you will take it.”

Kerensky nodded as the First Lord paused.

“I will not permit any surviving Amaris—or anyone associated with Amaris—to hold any position of power or influence in the Rim Worlds, Aleksandyr.  So I intend to appoint a new leader, a leader of the Rim Worlds Protectorate, replacing the Rim Worlds Republic.  I want to appoint you, Aleksandyr Kerensky to serve as that leader and reform the Rim Worlds into something we can all be proud off.  Something that will ensure that some good comes from all this shit Amaris unleashed.  So will you think about taking the job, Lord Kerensky, of House Kerensky?  Or do I need to find someone else to trust?”
« Last Edit: July 07, 2008, 09:12:05 AM by master arminas »    Report to moderator   131.95.113.77 (?)
Takiro
Administrator
Avatar
*****
Online Online

Posts: 5060

digitdoger
View Profile Email Personal Message (Online)
   
   
Re: Kerensky and Kurita
« Reply #185 on: July 07, 2008, 12:08:21 PM »
   Reply with quoteQuote Modify messageModify Remove messageRemove Split TopicSplit Topic
House Kerensky, wonder what that symbol will look like? Wink
   Report to moderator   71.190.242.132 (?)


"It is better to be thought a fool, than open your mouth and remove all doubt."
    U. S. Grant

"Don't think about what I say, cause I don't."
   John Luther
wolfcannon
Advocate
****
Offline Offline

Posts: 441

megablastercannon@yahoo.com jmegacannon megablastercannon
View Profile WWW Email Personal Message (Offline)
   
   
Re: Kerensky and Kurita
« Reply #186 on: July 07, 2008, 02:45:16 PM »
   Reply with quoteQuote Modify messageModify Remove messageRemove Split TopicSplit Topic
 Shocked Shocked Shocked  *jaw hits floor*
   Report to moderator   67.14.214.61 (?)
Jennifer Daniels
General
Daniels Avengers
Ice Hellion
Contributor
Grand Champion
*****
Offline Offline

Posts: 3087

Part time builder of fallen Empires


View Profile WWW Email Personal Message (Offline)
   
   
Re: Kerensky and Kurita
« Reply #187 on: July 07, 2008, 03:18:18 PM »
   Reply with quoteQuote Modify messageModify Remove messageRemove Split TopicSplit Topic
Speechless.

Just two questions:
- why are all your nuclear missiles destroying fighters in the last stand of the Amaris' fleet?
- why would the Amaris' admiral went to stop?
   Report to moderator   81.56.118.167 (?)


In Turn they tested each Clan namesake in trial against the Ice Hellion's mettle. Each chased the Ice Hellion, hunting it down. All failed to match the predator's speed and grace. Khan Cage smiled and said, "And that is how we shall be."

The Remembrance (Clan Ice Hellion) Passage 5, Verse 3, Lines 1 - 5
Takiro
Administrator
Avatar
*****
Online Online

Posts: 5060

digitdoger
View Profile Email Personal Message (Online)
   
   
Re: Kerensky and Kurita
« Reply #188 on: July 07, 2008, 04:29:00 PM »
   Reply with quoteQuote Modify messageModify Remove messageRemove Split TopicSplit Topic
Fantastic battle scenes I must say. Can't wait to see the High Council meet on Asta. Should be interesting. Wink
   Report to moderator   71.190.242.132 (?)


"It is better to be thought a fool, than open your mouth and remove all doubt."
    U. S. Grant

"Don't think about what I say, cause I don't."
   John Luther
master arminas
Contributor
Champion
*****
Offline Offline

Posts: 664


View Profile Email Personal Message (Offline)
   
   
Re: Kerensky and Kurita
« Reply #189 on: July 08, 2008, 08:54:48 AM »
   Reply with quoteQuote Modify messageModify Remove messageRemove Split TopicSplit Topic
Ice,

They are still out of range of the planet.  And the Kurita fighters will get there before they can launch--so they have to kill the fighters.  Now, for question 2--Daragou already questions Amaris, we saw that earlier.  He did his best, but came up short.  So rather than the rest of his people killed--for no return--he decided to surrender.  Harley had other ideas, though.

Sorry, I could have written that section better all around, I guess.

Arminas tar Valantil
Grand Master of the Ebon Rose
   Report to moderator   131.95.113.77 (?)
master arminas
Contributor
Champion
*****
Offline Offline

Posts: 664


View Profile Email Personal Message (Offline)
   
   
Re: Kerensky and Kurita
« Reply #190 on: July 08, 2008, 08:55:09 AM »
   Reply with quoteQuote Modify messageModify Remove messageRemove Split TopicSplit Topic
October 22, 2767
Asta Defense Headquarters
North Continent, Asta
Terran Hegemony

Aleksandyr sat in the office Stephen had insisted that he be given.  It was quite a nice office, complete with an adjoining bed-room suite, a private dining room, and a separate study.  Following the defeat of Commodore Daragou’s attack, the Astans had been ecstatic in their joy and pleasure at both the SLDF and the Combine who had given so much in their defense.  For the better part of the past month, anyone wearing the uniform of either the Star League or the Draconis Combine had not had to open their wallet for a meal, a drink, or a bit of friendly ‘companionship’.  Truly, for the common soldier and sailor, Asta had become a type of paradise found only in myth and legend.  Kerensky grinned, for he too had once been young, on his first deployment, on leave in a strange culture, wearing his best uniform and trying new experiences.

The Astan’s reaction had not ended there.  No, thousands had volunteered to finish completing this new defense headquarters—they had even agreed to travel to the site in vehicles with covered windows, without knowing where they went.  The Astan’s had not been allowed out until the vehicles were parked in the underground bays; when they finished their days work, they returned home in the same manner.  And in the time since the attack, they had worked a magnificent job on the HQ facility.  All of the walls were now lined with hand-carved feroak panels, polished to a dark, glowing sheen.  Carpet?  Not for our Headquarters, the craftsmen had proclaimed.  No, they had cut tiles from the native marble found in the far western mountains, a mesmerizing blend of grays and greens and blues.  In the central alcove of the upper floor, near the reception desk, the masons had laid a mosaic of the Cameron Star and the Kurita Dragon, superimposed upon each other in a stunning array of cunningly shaped and fitted tiles of multi-colored marble, deep rich red polished granite, and pure black obsidian.

False ceilings had been placed overhead; and somehow—no one quite knew exactly how—artwork had made its way on base.  Paintings and sculptures, intricately woven tapestries and heraldic shields carved from feroak and painted in the colors of every world of the Hegemony; the artisans of Asta had created a spectacular feel for this place, unlike any other SLDF facility Aleksandyr had ever before seen.  Rolling along the corridors yesterday in his wheel-chair—accompanied by Colonel Hall and a gaggle of other aides—he had seen for the first time the shield representing Saffel.  The craftsmen had placed a thick swath of black silk around the shield and carved the words ‘We Shall Never Forget’ upon the base of shield—and a lump had grown in Aleksandyr’s throat.  Some anonymous trooper had placed a small table beneath the shield, along with four dozen candles, each in its own polished glass holder and a glass jar containing matches.  Many of the candles had already been lit, and fresh flowers lay strewn before them on the table.  One of his aides—Captain Trevor Nielson—had inhaled sharply, and with shaking hands lit one of the remaining candles, tears welling in his eyes.  Captain Nielson, Aleksandyr remembered, was from Saffel.

Aleksandyr turned back to his work, pushing aside the wool-gathering.  In four hours time, the first Star League reinforcements would finally arrive.  The SLS McKenna and the Task Force—the Fleet—that had been built around her on the day he left Apollo two months earlier.  The 144 WarShips and 240 transports were carrying the entire 11th Field Army—three Corps with twenty-two Divisions and sixteen independent regiments of ‘Mechs, armor, infantry, and aerospace fighters.  10,800 BattleMechs and 3,564 Aerospace Fighters, plus over two hundred thousand infantry, armor crewmen, artillerists, engineers, military police, and many, many others.  That number did not, of course, include the Navy crews of the WarShips, JumpShips, and DropShips, and their own aerospace fighters.

And this Field Army was one of just twenty with which the SLDF had begun this war.  Casualties during the eighteen months spent fighting the Periphery Uprising and during the first months of the Coup had utterly destroyed or gutted four of those Armies, and damaged half-a-dozen others.  The survivors had been consolidated en route to Apollo, with General DeChevilier and Aleksandyr reorganizing the entire SLDF on the fly.  When the dust settled from the administrative shake-up, he found that he was left with fourteen Field Armies—each one at or above full strength.  Forty-two reinforced Corps—310 Divisions and 224 Independent Regiments—of the Star League Defense Forces remained at his command, out of the 450 Divisions and 304 Independent Regiments the Star League had just three short years ago.

And then there was the Navy.  2,016 WarShips and 3,360 transports provided transportation for the fourteen new reorganized Field Armies.  An additional 6,720 transport ships were devoted to supply, repair, and other sundry tasks; escorted by 1,344 more WarShips.  2,744 WarShips had once been assigned independent operations, but were now gathering in fourteen Fleets, each 196 vessels strong.  His Naval casualties to date had far lighter—except in the Hegemony itself, during the Coup.

He looked back down at the study on his desk, tapping the fingers of his right hand across the polished wood.  It is a risk, he thought.  But, Lord Stephen may be right about this.  It just goes against everything I have learned in thirty-eight years of military service—the last seventeen spent as the Commanding General.  We always soften the target before we go in—and Amaris knows that.  He can bleed us to death on one hundred worlds; death from a thousand cuts.  And maybe, just maybe stop my troops on Terra.  That path was what his original plan had called for, a ten-year campaign against the Usurper.  For Stephen was wrong on one point.  They were not as strong as they could be, not yet.  Volunteers from all the Great Houses had descended upon SLDF recruiting stations in force.  It would take time though to train and equip those troops, months, if not years.  Yet . . . he might just have the firepower to crack Terra’s defenses now.  And end the campaign in one year instead of one decade.

His hand stopped tapping the desk-top as he sat upright and turned to the keyboard of his computer system.  He quickly wrote a simple order, and pressed the send key.  Saving the document, he shut the system down, and prepared to retire for the night.  I will greet General Montoya