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We had heard the Dracs were expanding the depots on Halstead Station.  It made sense, that was far enough behind the border that it would take some effort to get to, the majority of the population lived underground in huge warrens, which would mean getting to any depot would be tough.  There were already plans being made, and something tells me that had Ian made it off Mallory's World, he would have jumped immediately to Halstead Station...then we heard about the University Library discovery... 
Instead, I was there.  I'd be lying if I said I was not conscious of the fact that nothing stood between Michael and the throne other than my Battlemaster, but you don't join the AFFS to stay safe.
They say no plan survives contact with the enemy, and this was certainly the case...

-From the Unpublished Diaries of Hanse Davion


The lasers fired, and the paper quickly caught fire.  Slowly at first, then with a growing intensity, the flames leapt from book to book, then from shelf to shelf.  Once the blaze was going, the Victor moved away from the door, leaving him to look upon what had been done.  Three hundred plus years of lost knowledge, gone...
With as start, Hanse Davion woke up.  The neurohelmet was heavy on his shoulders, which throbbed with a dull pain.  The comms were coming to life, reports were coming in.  His mouth was dry, a few sips from the water bottle were just enough to remind him it had been awhile since he had last eaten a good meal.
“Note to self.  Lock head of Commissariat in room and force them to eat Field Rations...that will teach them.”
“Sorry Sir, Did you say something?”  Major Deutsch, commander of the 3rd Battalion, 1st Davion Guards, had moved his Thunderbolt over a little closer.  The paint scheme was wrecked, the bright new armor plates standing out, signs of the last few weeks recent activity. 
“No Major, just thinking aloud.  Whats the ETA on the drop ships?”
“Four Hours Sir.”
“Good.  Priority is those units carrying the cargo.  I don't care about loading order, or who gets on what ship.  They march in, they lock down, and the ship boosts.  Sauve que peut.  Anyone who has a problem with that gets left behind.”
“Understood sir.”
“Contact!  Contact at Point Warren, estimate Battalion plus of mechs, with armor and infantry as well.”
Hanse closed his eyes and though for a moment, pulling up a map from memory.  That area was a natural choke point, as long as the Captain in charge there didn't get to overzealous and stayed on the defense they could hold out.  Disengaging could have been tricky, but the engineers had planned for that.
The minutes ticked by slowly, the sounds of combat filtered through the comm systems, a snippet of information caught Hanses attention.
“Which unit is that fighting D company?” he asked.
“Sir, 27th Dieron.”
Hanse closed his eyes, thinking hard.
“Wheres the 2nd Sword?”  he asked, moving the Battlemaster into a slow trot.
“Lost contact with them two days ago at the river.  It's been 27th Dieron chasing us since then.” replied Major Deutsch.
What would I do?  I don't know where the dropships are going to land exactly, but I have a general idea.  There's only a couple of locations, but enemy has not tipped his hand by claiming a DZ yet.  So, what do I do?  I use my lesser unit to pin down and attract my enemies attention while I..merde.
“Move on all three DZ's....Colonel Pruitt!”
“Sir!”
“Were moving out ASAP.  Recon companies and fast movers out ahead of main force.  Special Cargo in the Center.  You've got front, I've got rear.  As soon as the dropships begin their final we set up a perimeter, and  the dropships cover us while we load.”
“Yes Sir.  Playing a hunch sir?”
“Educated guess, Colonel.  2nd Sword broke off two days ago.  Kurita knows we've got limited choices to land, and he's force marched the 2nd to cover them.  Major Deutsch, tell D company to blow Point Warren and fall back best possible speed.”
“Sir!”

Pruitt and the 1st moved out smartly. The 1st Davion was an elite unit, and it showed.  Despite the weeks of hide and seek, combat and stress, they moved with alacrity and purpose, and no complaining.  The end was close, the dropships had broken through the ASF cover and were getting ready to land, and they knew it.  Now all they had to do was survive the next few hours.
*******
He ducked, but not quickly enough, and the PPC blast from the enemy Warhammer took off the Holly Missile launcher on the Battlemasters left torso.  Not that it mattered, it had fired the last ammo a few minutes earlier.  Stabbing the mechs right arm out, he fired his own PPC in return, watched as the beam dug into the Warhammer's hip joint.  With a short tremor, the Warhammer tottered, then fell over.  Backing his mech up, Hanse looked for cover as he watched the approaching heavy company.  A loud roar echoed through his cockpit, and he glanced up and saw Leftenant Mowbray's Victor sail through the air on a short jump, twisting to avoid the energy beams fired at him.  The Warhammer, lacking hands and lower arm actuators, would have had a hard time standing up without the damage to it's hip, as it was the Kurita pilot managed to get his mech into a sitting position, but it didn't matter.  Mowbray landed a few meters short of the sitting mech, and the Pontiac 100 roared directly into the Warhammer's   cockpit.  Scores of LRM's reached out, but with a deft touch Mowbray sidled out of the path of most of them, the few that hit exploding with little effect on his left torso.

A Kurita Awesome stepped out from behind an outcrop, the three PPC's atomizing much of the rock Mowbray was using to shield himself.  Stepping out, Hanse fired his PPC and medium lasers, taking little notice of where they hit, he just wanted to distract the Awesome for a moment.  It worked, the Awesome turned towards him as Mowbray bounded away again.  Hanse stepped back in time to avoid the Awesome's return fire, then watched with satisfaction as Sgt. Hawkins Archer blanketed the Awesome with 40 LRM's.  The Awesome retreated, its armor now pockmarked and pitted.
“Dropships in five!”  Pruitts voice was strained, he had his own problems to deal with on the other side of the DZ.
Five more minutes.

Fall back, move around, fire.  The Awesome made another appearance, but ducked back again when confronted by Hawkins and the Prince.  The LZ was a warren of rocks and gully's, and the mag sensors were going off the chart.  It came down to who saw what first, and who fired first and best.  Hanse wheeled his Battlemaster around one outcropping, and ran full on into a pair of Sword Panthers that were trying to work around the flank.  One of them literally bounced off his mech, falling backwards.  The other snapped off a shot with the SRM and PPC, but both missed wide.  Hanse was better, his medium lasers reaching out and hitting the one panther in its already damaged chest.  With a shudder, the Panther shook, then fell backwards as a stream of smoke and metal worked its way through the holes in the armor,  the gyro shredding itself as it fell.  With a quick step back and a twist, Hanse kicked the other Panther in the hip with not only enough force to warp the actuator, but to bounce the humanoid mechs head off the rock as well.  Checking to make sure it was unmoving, Hanse stepped back again.  The Awesome made its presence known, the three PPC beams blasting the outcropping Hanse was standing next to.  Intentional or not, several boulders flew off and struck his mech, one of them with enough force to bend the barrel of a medium laser.  He watched out of the corner of his eye as Mowbray sailed again through the air, only this time he wasn't so lucky, as a pair of PPC beams and several LRM's caught him just before he landed.  One of the missiles hit the cockpit, and it jarred Mowbray enough that instead of landing properly, he landed feet first then pitched forward, the mechs momentum digging a furrow in the ground.

He was getting ready to step out from cover again and fire, when the ground a hundred meters in front of him exploded.  Scores of missiles and beams traced an imprecise line between the Davion and Kurita mechs, but it was enough to stop the Dracs from advancing.  Hanse glanced up, and saw the Overlord  class dropship descending.  Slightly above it were Four Unions, a Fortress, and a heavily modified Mule.  All showed signs of damage, one of the Unions in particular had several columns of smoke coming from one of the weapons bays.

The firing slowly died down.  A Kurita Marauder tried closing in, but several beams from the Overlord took it's legs off in a surgical manner.  As long as the 1st was under the dropships guns, they were safe.

*****

The minutes ticked by.  One by one the mechs of the 1st Davion Guards moved into a dropship bay.  As if by unspoken agreement the Heavy and Assault lances were the last to move.

A Kurita Battlemaster stepped out of the line, stopping at just beyond the dropships effective weapons range.  With a smart salute it raised it's PPC in the air.  Hanse zoomed in, focusing on the mech.  The coiled dragon on the shoulder confirmed his suspicion.  He maneuvered his own mech forward and returned the salute, broadcasting in the open.

“Konnichi Wa, Coordinator.”
“And to you Lord Davion.”
“It has been a well fought series of battles Coordinator.  I salute you and your men.”
“And I salute yours, Prince.  I must say your battlefield reputation precedes you.” 
He was tired.  Two days of living in the cockpit had sapped his strength, and the last four hours of battle had drained what was left.  He had no time to play the game of obfuscation and little entreaties.  He could endure this small loss of face, after all, he won.
“Coordinator, you can see that your troops cannot advance.  My troops are embarking, and then  we are leaving.  You have lost this battle, but it is one you have fought with honor.  There is no shame in this loss.”  It was good timing, but to emphasize his words one of the Unions lifted off in a blaze of ion plasma.
There was a pause, a moment of time that seemed to stretch out between the two. 
“You and your men have fought well, Prince Davion.  Until we meet again.”  With surprising grace and agility, the Kuritan Battlemaster bowed.  Hanse hoped his return bow was equally graceful.  When he returned to a full standing position the second Union was lifting off.  He turned his comms back to the Guards frequencies.
“Contact, contact coming in fast, looks to be two ASF's, range 10 clicks and closing fast!”

They were closing in fast, two teardrop shaped Slayers.  The second Union, the Jonesboro was still in the process of lifting off, a slow, fat target that was to good to pass up. 

“I've got 'em.” Sergeant Jess stepped forward, the Garret radar on top of his Rifleman spinning furiously.  Stepping forward he raised both the Riflemans arms to the sky, loosing a steady stream of autocannon and large lasers.  Jess was as good as his word, the first Slayer flew threw a stream of shells, shuddered in the air, and changed course, trailing black smoke.  Hanse heard Pruitt screaming on the radio for ASF cover of their own, but he was to busy following the second Slayer.  It came in at high speed, jinking up and down, but not fast enough for Jess.  The second Slayer shrugged off a few autocannon an laser hits, until one of them appeared to hit near the cockpit.  The plane, trailing smoke and pieces of structure, flew straight and narrow for a moment, then pulled up and at its best possible speed, flew into the lower side of the Jonesboro.

It was a morbid fascination, watching the event unfold.  The Jonesboro hung in the air for a few seconds, trying to right itself.  From within the interior of the ship was a sympathetic explosion, and one of the bay doors exploded outwards, followed closely by a Quickdraw that was tumbling end over end.  There was even more debris...paper, floating in the air.

The Jonesboros engine stuttered, then stopped, and then slowly began to fall back down.

It was the paper that caught his attention, the remains of the books they had fought the past four weeks  to save.

Close, so close.   

Several mechs dodged and jumped out of the way as the Jonesboro fell back to the ground.  If there was a saving grace, it was that it was too close to the ground to achieve terminal velocity on the way down, and the impact could have been much worse.

He wasn't sure who fired first.  He knew it wasn't him, but the next thing he knew the comms were alive with people screaming and cursing, and then the air was filled with missiles and laser fire as the 2nd Sword charged.

He screamed, the stress of the last few days, the sight of the books falling back to earth.  A war cry, inarticulate with rage, escaped from his lungs.  Turning, he raised his PPC and fired, watching as the fire of the nearest dropship reached out over him to try and stave off the advancing horde.  They couldn't fire for long, in a few moment they wouldn't be able to tell friend from foe.  He advanced firing as he went, caught up in the tunnelvision of rage and bloodlust.

He fired, he punched, he kicked, shrugging off the hammerblows of the enemy mechs.  He saw his target, the Battlemaster, standing and firing, a Marauder on one flank, an Orion on the other.  Missiles and lasers flew by him on all sides.  A Victor, maybe Mowbrays, flew through the firestorm and landed a few meters in front of the Battlemaster.  The Pontiac roared just as the Orion fired at it, jerking it away from its intended target and into the Marauders leg, which collapsed, taking the Marauder to the ground.  What armor remained was not enough to save Mowbray, his heat shielding gone, he ejected.  Hanse watched as the prone Marauder tracked Mowbrays chair then fired...

A barrage of missiles enveloped the fallen Marauder and the Battlemaster.  When the dust and debris cleared, the Marauder was immobile, black smoke escaping from the seams and joints.  The Battlemaster looked sandblasted, its armor pocked and dented, leg fused at the knee.

Hanse raised his PPC, the Battlemaster blinked under his reticle and he fired.  Nothing happened.  He pulled the trigger again, still nothing.  He risked a glance, and saw that half of it was missing, the remains a melted mess.
“When did that happen” he though to himself.  He tossed the remains aside, risked another look at his screens.  Voices filled his comms, the loudest was Pruitt's, cursing him and calling him back, urging others to go to his aid.  The Orion stepped in front of the Battlemaster, autocannon flashing,.  Hanse ignored the mech, moving closer to the Battlemaster as fast as he could.  The missiles had rattled the coordinator, maybe one or more had hit the cockpit and shaken him up some.  So much the better.
The Orion turned to tracked him, then recoiled as it was shoved aside by Hawkins charging Archer.  Despite its missing arm, the 70 ton mech rocked the heavier mech backwards, then fell under the Archers torso medium lasers and a couple of well placed punches.

“TAKASHI!” He screamed.  He was close now.  Rearing back, he punched, but the coordinator recovered in enough time to pull back, enough to avoid most of the damage.  His return punch was a hammerblow, crushing the remaining medium laser on his right torso.

He didn't know how long it lasted.  Kicking, punching, firing.  His gyro screamed in protest, the feedback from his neurohelmet was overwhelming.  Kurita punched and missed, over extending himself, and seeing an opening, Hanse returned with a punch of his own.  He smiled in grim satisfaction, saw the Coordinator looked out the cracked cockpit to see his fist coming towards it, maybe it would be the last thing he saw.Just as his own fist hit the “neck” joint of the Kuritan Battlemaster. Something struck the side of his mech, throwing him against his seat restraints hard enough that his head bounced off the side.

*****

Pain, unbelievable pain.

*****

Blackness.

I never want to see that again.  As long as I live.  I watched Yorinaga Kurita kill Ian, and the way he fought for those 10 minutes I know Hanse would have taken both of them on and killed them both.  And he may have ended up in better shape than he did on Halstead.

Giles Mowbray, AFFS, retired.

******

Losing most of his upper right leg was not the biggest obstacle he had to overcome.  Sure, he could have amputated and replaced the leg, or augmented what was left with myomer, but he refused it.  And it wasn't the lung damage either, although he did have those replaced.  That's not what hurt him most, it was the books.  We took six, maybe seven thousand from the Library.   Maybe half of those were lost on the Jonesboro, the rest were taken back to New Avalon, used to help found the Institute.  If your lucky, you can get a tour, watch them work on the books, catalog them, translate them.  Your behind six inches of glass, and they're in a clean room...There's a reverence to it.
All but one book.  He carries it with him everywhere.

Private Diary of Quintus Allard

******

At a best guess estimate, elements of the 1st Davion recovered 6,555 units of information from the Library on Halstead Station (A unit refers to a book, either whole or portion thereof, or electronic storage device in which some data is recoverable).  By the time the 1st reached the LZ, a little over 300 had been lost, most due to wear and tear.  Approximately 3,100 units were on the Jonesboro when it crashed.  878 were recovered by AFFS forces before lifting off.  At the time it was assumed that the hostile environment of the Halstead Station atmosphere would degrade and/or destroy the remaining units on the planet surface, but it  is known that Kuritan elements were able to recover close to 1500 units of information from the wreck of the Jonesboro.  Initial reports show that the majority of these are medical in nature, though it is known that several engineering and industrial texts are included as well.

From the Daily Briefing, MI3 section.  Declassified, 3066

******

Why couldn't that bastard just die already...damn his luck!

From the Private Diary of Michael Hasek

******

July 15th, 3014

The sound of the cane hitting the table was like a gunshot, and the conversation in the room immediately died.  Several participants around the table made an effort to look offended, but their efforts paled at they looked at the source of the sound.
Hanse Davion, six months removed from the Battle of Halstead Station, six weeks out of hospital, looked pale and tired, but his face was mask of anger and disappointment.
“Enough.”  The word hung over the assembly.  Business Leaders, Academics, planetary nobility of New Avalon, all were there to voice their protests against his latest proposal.
“This is ridiculous. This petty, internecine squabbling is over.  The Halstead Collection represents the biggest recovery of Lostech information  of the past 300 years.  It will not be broken up and parceled out, it will not be restricted, it will not be hidden from sight.”  A few people, mostly from the Academic representatives,  began to protest, but stopped when Hanse looked at them with a hard stare.
“The Science Institute of New Avalon will be built.  I do not care what it costs to build, because I will personally pledge the privy purse of the Davion family to ensure its construction and completion on time.  Any delay in its completion will not only incur my public disappointment, but my private wrath.
Yes, the Institute may draw away the best and brightest of business, but the simple fact of the matter is that the students they turn out, and the research the conduct under one roof instead of many, will lead to  a bigger pool of talent to draw from, and mean faster discoveries of new technology and faster implementation of old, rediscovered technology.  It does this nation no good if Business A and Business B are working on the same technological goal but do not share information.  You say you are worried about lost revenue from technologies produced, from license fees, from the lack of monopoly on being the first to bring a new item to market.  Oppose me and I guarantee I will  bring the full force of the Ministry of Ways and Means down on you, and if that means parking a Sheriff in your office to question everything you do as a CEO, I will. I do not care if you're GM or Federated Boeing.  You can explain to your stockholders why you thought it was better to go it alone, spend billions of C-Bills for Millions in returns over 20 years when cooperating would net you Billions of returns on Millions invested in 5 years.”  Several business representatives stare in open mouth shock.  This is a side of the Prince not seen before, in public or private.
“This is a matter of National Pride, of National Prestige, of National Honor.  The Institute will be a beacon for everyone, not just those of us in the Federated Suns, and I will not have it sullied anymore by this bickering.
“Is that clear?”
The tapping of the cane on the tabletop was the only sound in the room.

******

December 1st, 3015      

With great fanfare, the Coordinator officially opened the Luthien KenkyÅ«jo no Kagaku to Gijutsu (Luthien Institute of Science and Technology) today.  While many of the Combines best Scholars and Scientists have been here for the better part of year, repairing, translating and cataloging the tomes rediscovered at Halstead Station, today is the first day of School for the first class of students.  Brought here from all corners of the Combine, these are the best and brightest stars in the Dragon's Constellation, and in only a couple of years time they will further strengthen the Pillar of Teak, and in doing so further strengthen the Dragon.

Partial excerpt from Press report, Imperial Press, Luthien.

“When a Zibler is born, a new mech leaves the proving grounds” - Attributed to First Prince Melissa Davion, 2888.

September 19th, 3015

He had been to the Fox's Den before, but never to these private offices.  He stood outside a door, save for the hulking armored infantryman standing in front of it, would have been as nondescript as the others in the hallway.  Trying not to fidget, he checked his uniform one more time as best as he could.  The alarm on his watch beeped, and he knocked on the door.  Even before the second knock had landed, a loud voice called on him to “ENTER!”
Opening the door, he marched in smartly, stopping three steps away from the desk, and snapping off the smartest salute he could.  “Sir, Colonel Thomas Zibler reporting as ordered.”
“Thank you Colonel. Sit.” 
“She looks more like my grandmother in person than on the vids.” He thought.  The Princes Champion, Marshall Yvonne Davion, did indeed have a matronly look about her.  She was perhaps the most powerful grandmother in the Inner Sphere, with the entire Armed Forces of the Federates Suns at her beck and call.  “She'd as soon drop an RCT on your head as she would feed you a cookie.”
She smiled briefly at him, finished shuffling through some documents, and then looked at him squarely, hands in front of her.
“So, Colonel Zibler.  How do you like Strategy and Tactics?”
“It's fine Sir.”
“It does give you a lot of free time, doesn't it?”
“Well, truth be told sir if I had my choice, I'd rather be doing than thinking, but at the moment, thinking is what they pay me to do.  If this is what I have to do to advance my career then I will do it to the best of my abilities.”
Marshall Davion smiled at him, then picked up a folder, opened it and began reading.
“Thomas Andrew Zibler, born April 1st, 2978.  Entered Albion Military Academy at 16 in 2994.  Left Albion in 2996 and entered Sakhara, where you missed graduating with honors due to a large number of demerits incurred.  Assigned to the 1st Ceti Hussars as a Sargeant for 2 years, transferred to the 7th Crucis, where you fought at Lincoln in 3001, earning the Silver Sunburst Medal, a promotion to Leftenant, and three months in the brig.  Transferred to to 1st Chisholm's Raiders in 3005, promoted to Captain.  Demoted to Leftenant again in 3006, promoted to Captain again in 3008.  Promoted to Major 3011 as a reward for the fighting on Delacruz.  Transferred to New Avalon that same year, assigned to Strategy and Tactics, and you've been in a cubicle ever since.  Recent Promotion to Colonel six months ago was under the board and quite out of the ordinary.  Do you know why?”
“Sir, I wouldn't presume to know-”
“It wasn't your fathers influence, or your Uncles for that matter.  Or your Aunt the Countess.”
“Janene?” he asked with surprise.
“No, I was referring to Agatha, your other Uncles, never mind, it's not important.  You got that promotion for you work with  the Ministry of Foreign Relations Department while you were seconded to Strategy and Tactics.  I have a memo here from Sub-Minster Felsner who praises your forthrightness and ability to think outside the box, while at the same time bemoaning your lack of tact where certain individuals and topics are concerned.  General Davies is of two minds on the matter, on one hand he is very impressed with you and your abilities, and he'd like to see you as part of his team.  His big fear is that he may use his other hand to strangle you while your there.”
“I think I understand, Sir.”  His voice was quiet.
“I know your a lifer, but let me ask you something.  Do you think your ready to spend the rest of your career as a colonel stuck in some middle office here on New Avalon?  I won;t deny you would do some great things, I've seen your first drafts of the proposed Gauntlet curricula for NAMA and if they are just the tip of the iceberg as it were for you.  They tell me that mentally you are very capable of doing great things, but some reason the mental filter that you need to become a success in the AFFS is just not there.  How soon do you think it would be before you said the right thing to the wrong person?  How long before you find yourself in charge of some depot on the ass end of the Outback asking yourself “Where did I go wrong?””  She looked at him, waiting for an answer.
He sat and thought about it for a moment, but only a moment.  It was a conversation he had with himself many times since he joined up, especially after that first demotion.  He wasn't married, he knew his one and only mistress would be the AFFS, but the thought of withering away at a desk was not what he wanted, but still.  He couldn't explain it really.  His reputation for honesty was well known, as was the
“Sir, if that's what the AFFS thinks I am best suited to do, nothing will stop me from giving it my all.”
The Marshall sighed, and sat back in her chair, steepling her hands under her chin.  He suddenly felt like a wayward child caught with his hand in the cookie jar.  She stood up.
“Follow me Colonel,” she said, standing up.  She exited a side door and he was right on her heels.  Past another hulking trooper, down a hallway, through a series of corridors, and he found himself in a small conference room, with a holotank in the center of it.
Sitting down at the chair at the head of the table, typed in a few commands.  The holotank came to life, zooming and twirling into focus.  He saw a few planets come into focus.
“The Point Barrow PDZ,” the Marshall said.  “Oh, sit down Colonel, please.”  She gestured to a chair, which he took.
A Few more taps of the keyboard, and several planets in the region came into the center of the screen, Kettering in the middle. 
“Kettering.  Defiance, Perdido, Minette, Xenia, Weldon, Bluford.  These worlds will make up the Kettering Proving Grounds.  This is going to be the training area for the AFFS.”
Zibler couldn't help it, he leaned forward.
“The core unit of this area will be the Kettering Proving Ground RCT.  However, with only a few exceptions, there will be no mechs or vehicles assigned to this unit.”
“Sir?”
“You don't have the clearance for this yet, but one of the discoveries at Halstead Station was a holoprojector network series of manuals.  Essentially, you rig an industrial or agromech with one and it can emulate any mech out there.  Throw on some dummy weapons, tie them into the computer networks, and you have a walking, running Battlemech.  And there are some decent customizable agro and industrial mechs out there that we can emulate probably 98% of anything in existence.  Vehicle's are even easier, a couple of wooden panels and your good to go there.
“Each training area is going to be watched and monitored by several systems, audio, video, satellite, all recording, all capable of being integrated and replayed.  The Kettering RCCT is going to be an aberration,  as an Opposing Force Unit it may be emulating a Capellan Unit one cycle, a Kuritan unit the next, a Taurian Unit followed by an Outworlds unit.  It needs to emulate those countries doctrines and way of fighting better than they do, but doctrine only goes so far.  I want a thinking, devious Davion trained mind behind those doctrines, because the idea is that a unit will come to Kettering and fight, and in the process get its tail kicked from pillar to post.  After the fighting comes the grading and that needs to be done as openly and honestly as possible, without the possibility of recrimination.  I don't want any shortcuts or ass kissing, if the son of Duke So and So can't tell down from up, then I want to know about it.”
“Sir, may I ask why your telling me this?”
“Colonel Zibler, I've spent the past six months looking into your past and your record, and a few things have always cropped up.  You're an innovative thinker, an excellent teacher, and while you respect and tolerate the chain of command, when you do have a difference of opinion, those opinions have been made forcefully, factually, and without cruelty or malice.  Your knowledge of the CAF and DCMS is excellent, as are your organizational skills.  I need someone who can kick a person in the teeth, and do so with a smile, and then tell the victim what to do to avoid getting the same treatment the next time.”  With a hard stare the Marshall looked at him, and with a few keystrokes the holotank shut down.
“Colonel, I am offering you Command of the Kettering Proving Grounds and Training RCT.  You get your pick of personnel, mostly;a fairly open budget, and a chain of command that goes from you, to my deputy, to me, and then the First Prince himself.  It's the closest thing to a blank check and dream chain of command that anyone in this Princes Army would kill to have.”
“Are you ordering me to take this job Sir?” he asked.  His mind was already reeling with the possibilities, but part of him was sure this was a joke on the cosmic scale.
“Son, the depot on Maran needs a new laundry officer.  But then I'm not ordering you to take the Kettering command either.  You have a choice, those are your two options.”
“Yes Sir, thank You Sir!” he said, standing up.
“Sit back down Colonel.  For the next three months this is your home.  You have access to 99% of the personnel files of the AFFS.  While you may request anyone, I have final say, is that clear?”
“Yes Sir.”
“Excellent.  Initial groundwork and construction on Kettering is already underway.  Assembly and Training of the Kettering RCT begins in January, the unit will officially activate in February of next year.  Your first Cycle is September, against the 17th Avalon Hussars.  Each Cycle is going to be 6 weeks.  1 Week for the unit to assemble on planet, 4 weeks of combat exercises and review, 1 week for them to leave.  Your RCT then gets 6 weeks of repair, rest and preparation for the next unit, which should be 2nd Chisholm.  Both those will be scaled down to battalion size, we're still trying to figure out how to move a full RCT on the without causing to much fuss.
“Yes Sir. With your permission?”  Zibler indicated the keyboard at his chair.
“Of course Colonel.” she replied.  He stood up and removed his jacket, then rolled up his sleeves, and sat down.  A few minutes later he was ensconced in his own world.  With a wry chuckle, Yvonne Davion, Marshall of the AFFS and Princes Champion, let herself out of the room and found one of her aides, a bright young Captain at his desk.
“Make sure he eats and sleeps on a regular basis Greg.  In fact, consider yourself his aide from this moment on.  He will frustrate you to no end, but it will be worth it.”
“Yes Ma'am.” replied Greg Sanromea-Davion, trying not to sound sullen.
“Cheer up Captain.  He's either going to make your career or break you while trying.”  Her smile was nothing short of terrifying as she said those words.

Really interesting but this is because I like OpFor

Just two little things:
- Delacruz was not in 3011 but in 2796
- I guess your comment in the timeline about the 2 months of mock combats is for the whole period since according to your background story the fights only last 4 weeks.
- Sir for a Lady?

Thanks for the feedback.

Timeline

3017

February – Luthien Institute of Science and Technology announces new cancer treatments and therapies based on materials found at Halstead Station.

April – Capellan forces invade Spica.

May – After a weeks long running battle Capellan forces are forced off Spica.  Candace Liao is severely injured in the campaign.

July – Science Institute of New Avalon announces breakthroughs in Myomer grafts and cybernetics.

November – The pace of Operation PINPRICK slows down.  Davion raids on Capellan Space still continue, but at a reduced rate.

3018

March – An  assassination attempt is made on Hanse Davion and Michael Hasek-Davion's life while both are meeting on New Avalon.  Privately Hanse suspects that Michael was behind it all, but an intense investigation by MIIO reveals that Michael knew nothing about the attempt.

June – Hansen's Roughrider's are hired by the Lyran Commonwealth.

July – Hanse Davion begins a tour of the Outback Region.

November – Planning begins in the Free Worlds League for an attack into Steiner space.

December - Janos Marik presents the plan to Wolf's Dragoons.

3019

January –  Wolf's Dragoon's cross the border into Steiner Space.  Over the next six months they conduct a dizzying array of raids deep into Steiner Space, culminating with the drop on Hesperus.
By the middle of July, despite facing overwhelming numbers, the Dragoons are within sight of the entrance to the battlemech factories, but carefully hidden Lyran reinforcements, including Hansen's Roughrider's, force the Dragoons to retreat off planet with heavy casualties at the end of June.  Retreating back to Sterling, the Dragoon's exercise their escape cause and disappear into the Periphery again.

August – At a meeting on Filtvelt, Hanse Davion and several business leaders announce the recreation of the Outremer March.  The business leaders are there to announce expansion plans on several planets in the Davion outback.  In a series of backroom deals, Hanse Davion has given them financial incentives to expand in the Outback, related to tax breaks and “other” incentives.

December – Wolf's Dragoons return to the Inner Sphere, and accept an offer from the Lyran Commonwealth.

3020

January – Maximilian Liao starts secret negotiations with Michael Hasek-Davion

March – Katrina Steiner sends her peace proposals to the other Successor Lords of the Inner Sphere.

April – The Outremer is officially incorporated in the Federated Suns.  Hanse Davion reads the Archons proposals and is intrigued by the possibilities presented.  An honest answer in May starts a slow dialogue between the two nations.

June – Retired DCMS Colonel Lloyd McGavin forms the Night Stalkers.

August – Maximilian Liao and Michael Hasek-Davion conclude a neutrality pact.

November – 1st Battalion of  the 1st New Ivaarsen Chasseurs becomes the first unit to tie the Kettering Proving Ground RCT.  It is the first time the Kettering RCT has not won.