OBT Forum

The revised intro.



Hall of the Khans
Strana Mechty
Clan Homeworlds
December 18, 3048

The stone chamber was hushed as thirty-two Khans and saKhans waited for the first elected ilKhan in more than century to enter the Grand Hall.  At each entrance, two Elemental Warriors of the Ebon Keshik stood at attention, their black and gold armor polished to a mirror finish that reflected the flickering light of the torches ablaze in their high sconces upon the walls.  Seldom in recent years had a full gathering of the Khans been present in person; such assemblies normally included at least two or three among their number present only via HPG holo-comm transceiver.  But today was not a normal day.  Today was the day that the Clans would vote on whether or not to adopt the ilKhan’s plan to return to the Inner Sphere.

Tension had run high when Khan Leo Showers had presented the captured ComStar Vessel Outbound Light and its crew seven weeks earlier; the debate over the plan drafted by Khans Showers and Crichell had ground to a halt when Ulric Kerensky, Khan of the Wolves, challenged Leo Showers to a Trial of Grievance for his failure to immediately bring the matter to the attention of the Council of Khans.  Although many thought that Showers had the advantage when he chose un-augmented combat, he died in the trial—although the wounds he inflicted on Kerensky had proven mortal as well.  Both Khans had perished, and that had given time for the Clans to reflect, and to choose a new leader.

Although Khan Elias Crichell desired the post, many Khans were leery of his ambition, and more than a few questioned his ability as a Warrior.  But his claim died as well when his aide (Vandervahn Chistu) leaked documents that supposedly showed the contents of his discussions with Showers—including a proposal that their two Clans join to become the ultimate power in the Homeworlds.  saKhan Timus Malthus fought Crichell in a second Trial of Grievance and killed him; when Chistu attempted to secure the post of Khan by accusing Malthus of treason against the Way of the Clans and the against the Jade Falcons, his manipulations went too far and proof of his manipulation of the discussion logs was brought to the surface.  Disgraced, Chistu was stripped of his rank and expelled from the Warrior caste, after Malthus refused to kill him, saying there would be no honor gained from such a victory.

When the Grand Council reconvened just ten days ago, the election surprised the strongest Clans, for the Star Adders nominated and campaigned for the Khan of the Goliath Scorpions—Nikolai Djerassi—to be selected.  And he was so elected to the post; although his margin of victory was slim, it was not challenged, for the Jaguars, Falcons, and Wolves were in disarray and the Warden Clans stood staunchly behind the unusual choice.  Combined with the unwavering support of Khan N’Buta of the Star Adders, no Khan wished to create further havoc with more Trials of Refusal.  Besides, the core issue remained for debate.

And now, with newly elected Khans in place of the fallen and the uplifted, the Grand Council once again had assembled.

At last, one of the doors opened and the ilKhan walked in, wearing ceremonial garb that concealed his flesh from head to toe.  He walked to the center of the well, and removed his helmet, placing it on the desk of Nicolas Kerensky and lifted a remote in one gloved hand.

And then the ilKhan spoke.

“Brothers and sisters, fellow Khans, we are gathered today for the event which we have awaited since the moment of our birth, which has ruled our destiny to this very moment in time.  We are here to determine if we shall return to the Inner Sphere, and if so, how shall we do so.  In preparation for this day, I, and my finest strategists, historians, and logistics experts—in conjunction with Khan N’Buta of the Star Adders—have, for the past decade, made plans and studied possible strategies, and we believe that we have discovered the key to defeating the realms of the Inner Sphere decisively.”

He placed his arms behind his back and began to pace as he continued to speak.  “Whether Warden—as am I—or Crusader—as are many of you—those differences no longer concern us.  We have been found, brethren.  And although this expedition will not report our location to those who have despoiled the former worlds of the Star League, others will—in time—come.  Our long isolation is ended.  And with it, my Khans, our time of waiting is now finished.  Now is the time for action.”

“However, this so-called plan, this Operation Revival, put forth by Khans Showers and Crichell, is folly.  I will not endorse such a reckless approach to this event for which we have all prepared ourselves for generations.”

Khan Jorgensson of the Ghost Bears stood, and he too pulled from his head his ceremonial helm, revealing a frowning face.  “And if not that plan, ilKhan, that what do you propose?  That we do nothing?”

“Neg, Khan of the Ghost Bears.  We must now act, but we must act with deliberation and due diligence, not haste.  In that direction lies madness and the seeds of our destruction.  Khan N’Buta and I have devised, over these past ten years, another plan that will ensure these ‘Successor Lords’ will fall to the might of the Clans.”

“No, my Khans, we shall return, and we shall return within the next two years time.”

Dozens of voices spoke out at once, and Nikolai stepped forward and slammed his fist down on the ancient wooden desk that had once served as the place of honor from where Nicolas Kerensky presided over this very body.  “Two years, my Khans, two years shall be required for us to prepare for a master stroke that will ensure our victory.”

Slowly, the assembly sat and Nikolai nodded.  “We have much for which to prepare, and those preparations will take time.  In the spring of 3051, however, our assault will be launched and it will prove decisive.”

Lifting the remote, the ilKhan pressed a button and holographic map of the Inner Sphere sprang into life.  In the north-west quadrant, the Lyran Commonwealth glowed a pulsing blue, with the harsh red of the Draconis Combine to the east, separated partially by the Rasalhague Republic.  Four invasion corridors appeared, golden lines driving through the Periphery and converging upon Terra.  “Operation Revival, brethren, as Showers and Crichell dubbed this abomination.”

“Four Clans, with a fifth in reserve, committing but a portion of their strength and racing for Terra.  Their flanks unprotected against attack, their forces too few to secure the worlds in their rear and garrison their line of supply.  And these five Clans would have been alone, separated by more than a year from their brothers and sisters of the society our Great Founder created.  Denied our help in their time of need.”

Nikolai shut down the projection and shook his head.  “It is not our way, my brothers and sisters.  This return is the birthright of us all.  When the time came for our Clans to regain the Pentagon during Operation Klondike, did the first ilKhan, the founder of our society have us bid to determine who would remain tamely behind?  No, he used our Clans strengths in concert to make certain that we would gain victory through our honor, and our training, and our loyalty, indeed our love, for each other!”

“He, and Absalom Truscott, planned in detail the operation and then our forefathers—our Founders—carried out his will in precise accordance with his vision.  Still, things went wrong.  And we all know what that problems were in that long ago age.  It is up to us to learn from those errors and not to repeat the mistakes of the past.  To instead fufill its full promise.”

“Our return will be with all sixteen of our Clans—none shall remain behind on this sacred mission.  All will share in the honor.  And so, I reveal to you Operation Revival Reborn!”

Lifting the remote again, he clicked another button, and the invasion corridors highlighted died, and the map zoomed in on the Lyran Commonwealth.  “My brothers and sisters, this shall be our initial Theatre of Operations:  the Lyran Commonwealth.  Part of the Federated Commonwealth in alliance with the Federated Suns, we have learned that Archon Melissa Steiner in fact resides on New Avalon with her husband Hanse Davion during the harsh Tharkad winters.  Our assault will occur as she is returning to Tharkad once more to rule that half of the realm as Archon.  One of the most advanced realms in the terms of manufacturing and industrial capacity, the Lyran Commonwealth supplies roughly two-thirds of the BattleMechs, Aerospace Fighters, and other weapons of war fielded by the Federated Commonwealth.  Those items are produced here,” he continued as he pressed another stud.  Ten golden dots appeared on the map, flashing against the dark blue background.

“Alarion, Coventry, Donegal; Furillo; Hesperus II, Oliver, Pandora, Sudeten, Tharkad, and Twycross, my fellow Khans; it is these ten worlds upon which the military might of the Federated Commonwealth depends.”

The ilKhan pressed another key on his remote, and six more worlds suddenly blinked into life.  “To these we shall add Arcturus, Izar, Port Mosby, Skye, Tamar, and Wotan, my brethren.  Sixteen worlds for sixteen Clans—these systems are the economic, military, and political heart of the Lyran people.  It is a heart that we shall carve out in a single strike; a strike that shall shake the entire Inner Sphere to its knees.”

Chaos erupted as Khans stood and began to shout, but Nikolai simply waited, silent, until finally the din diminished.  One Khan only remained standing, and Nikolai nodded at Amelia McKenna of Clan Snow Raven.

“IlKhan, what you propose, this would leave use with no lines of supply at all!  And how do expect to even get there without attacking the intervening worlds?  By all of the Founders, Nikolai, some of those worlds are four months travel inside the Lyran Commonwealth!”

Nikolai grinned.  “Khan McKenna, your points are well taken.  But consider this; there are scores of uninhabited and uninhabitable star systems surrounding those pictured on this map.  These ‘empty spaces’ have nothing of value—many do not even have planets.  But they are isolated and they are alone, and we have their coordinates.  We know, through the databases our ancestors assembled, where their jump-points lie.  And it is through these empty star systems that our toumens will journey until they arrive at each of their targets on the same day:  the first of April, 3051.”

He began to pace again, as he continued to speak.  “Yes, we will have no line of supply, nor a line of retreat.  But neither will be needed, for we shall make this assault with the front-line forces of sixteen Clans—and we shall carry with us sufficient supplies for a two-year campaign.  Each of these worlds will be the target of an entire Clan, and each will serve as a death trap for the Lyrans.”

Khan Isaac Fletcher stood.  “One full Clan for each world?  With all of our front-line troops?  IlKhan, you are speaking of committing multiple galaxies against each of these systems—they cannot possibly have enough troops in place to justify such a use a force.”

“You are correct, Khan Fletcher.  But these worlds are vital to the very survival of the Lyran Commonwealth.  They shall serve as the flame to which the Armed Forces of the Federated Commonwealth are drawn, and they will die as they come in their attempt to dislodge us.  To find a Ghost Bear for the Clawing, Khan Jorgensson, where must you go?”

“To where the Ghost Bear lairs, ilKhan, even a sibkin knows that.”

“Yes, and when we take these worlds, we will truly be in the lair of the Inner Sphere’s military might.  They cannot let us keep them—to do so would cripple them, economically, militarily, and politically.  And so they must come to us and attack.”

Khan McKenna nodded.  “And they must attack, regardless of the odds if they are to preserve their own industry.”

“Aff.  But it will be too late for that, because as soon as these worlds are secure, you will proceed to destroy their factories—utterly demolish them.”

“That is a waste of resources, ilKhan!” shouted Khan Malthus.

“Yes, but a waste of their resources, Khan of the Jade Falcons.  We have no need for their inferior technology, and by destroying their factories, we only weaken them, not us.  Two exceptions to that order will be made, however, for Hesperus II was once a Star League facility—it shall be so again.  And the Alarion shipyards will serve us well once our Raven brothers and sister repair them and modernize them to our standards.”

“The Inner Sphere will attack us on these worlds because they must, and their attacks will fail because we are the Clans, and we shall be ready for them.  Once they have broken upon our defenses, then Phase II will commence.  Each of these systems will form the nucleus of an Occupation Zone, consisting of twelve to fifteen secondary targets for each Clan, which will serve to link together our operations and place more almost half of the entire Commonwealth within our grasp.”  As he spoke, the holo-projection showed a visual representation, with blobs of gold expanding lightning fast across the face of the Lyran Commonwealth, until the main part of that once great House was entirely claimed by the Clans in an unbroken line that extended from Terra’s doorstep to the Periphery—and beyond to the Homeworlds.  And sixteen Periphery systems, all known nests of pirates and bandits began to flash, and then they too turned into a steady bright glowing gold beacon.

“Simultaneously with the attack on Phase I primary targets, a seventeenth force comprised of one Provisional Garrison Cluster and one Solahma Cluster from each of our Clans will seize these sixteen Periphery worlds, thus opening the route for our supply lines to be reestablished.  The PGCs will remain in place to garrison each of these worlds, but the Solahma Clusters will be diverted to reinforce the Adder Occupation Zone here, in what they Spheroids term the Terran Corridor.  It is here that the hammer shall fall upon our Clans when the Federated Suns responds to the attack on their Lyran counterpart.”

More muttering emerged from the Council as the Khans whispered to each other, mulling over the bare bones package presented—and then Khan Vincent Tchernovkov stood.  “An interesting proposal, ilKhan, but do you propose holding twelve to fifteen worlds against attack by the remaining Great Houses with just two or three front-line Galaxies—an average of just ten Clusters per Clan?”

“Neg.  Each Clan will also be contributing a substantial number of their Provisional Garrison Clusters to perform exactly that function, Khan Tchernovkov—I believe that we are currently looking at a total of, for all the Clans, two hundred and sixty PGCs needed for this campaign to defend our new acquisitions and, of course, our supply lines.”

The ilKhan paused as utter silence filled the chamber; the number of troops which he proposed using would dwarf any past military operation ten-fold.

“After the completion of Phase II, we shall take a brief respite to restock our toumens and restore ourselves to full fighting order.  During this time—indeed, since the very beginning of this campaign—a force of forty-eight Alpha-class Corvettes will have been probing our ultimate target, brethren.  They will have surveyed its outer system and ferreted out just how well defended that objective is.  Because Phase III will result in all sixteen of the surviving Clans of Kerensky seizing for this world for ourselves,” the ilKhan continued as his voice rose into a shout.  “We will close the circle, brothers and sisters, and we shall make of this place our new Capital, from which the Star League restored shall reign forever more!”

The holo-projector zoomed in close once more, centering on a pale blue-green orb labeled Terra as one-by-one, the Khans slowly stood and began to applaud their support.

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

The cold wind of a Strana Mechty winter gusted against the side of the Great Hall as Nikolai stood on one of its balconies.  Despite the breeze, he stood tall and straight, but his face was sober, and he lifted one hand to his face, taking a long pull from the smoldering cigar he held.

“Those things will kill you, you know,” Robert N’Buta said from the shadowed door that led within the labyrinthine structure.

Nikolai nodded without turning.  “There are many things that will eventually kill me, Robert.  This weed is currently the least among them.”

The Star Adder Khan walked up besides the man and stood quietly alongside for several moments in silence.

“It is very risky, you know.  We could still opt for Pantheon II instead.”

“Neg.  Although you are right, my friend.  With sixteen Clans on the firing line Pantheon II would work—for a time.  But it makes the same mistakes that Showers and Crichell made, it takes worlds from the outer edge inward—and allows their industry to produce replacements far faster than we can ship them in from the Homeworlds.  Those worlds are not of vital importance to the Federated Commonwealth, we would take them and destroy many of their units, but in the end it would mean nothing.  And if we give them the time they require to counter our technology with numbers, it will mean defeat instead.”

“No,” the ilKhan said, “it is a high risk, but it offers the highest rewards as well, Robert.”

N’Buta nodded in answer.  “Aff.  I am just concerned over whether the Council will agree.  If things go wrong, we could lose the cream of three, perhaps even four Clans, after all.”

Nikolai snorted.  “No fewer would we lose with Pantheon given enough time.  You are still supporting the plan, quiaff?”

“Aff.  It is partially my plan, after all.  I am just . . . worried that you will be caught in the fallout if things begin to fall apart.”

“Robert, the plan is nothing—but the planning is everything.  There will be circumstances that we cannot foresee.  There will catastrophes and debacles that have the Khans screaming for my head.  And there will be an enormous body count arising from the Invasion—on both sides.”

“But, we have planned for every possible contingency.  We will have the supplies and parts on hand, and once we have captured Hesperus II and convert its factories to produce our munitions and BattleMechs and Elemental armor we will have a logistical base in their very heartland.  And even though some of our brethren are strategic idiots, they are all seasoned and tested Warriors—place them in a tactical circumstance where they simply must hold a position against an attacker and they will hold.  They will.”

Once again silence ruled the blustery day as the two Warriors looked out over the boulevards of the city.

“You are planning to accompany the Scorpions on their assault on Hesperus II, quiaff?”

“Neg.  I am no longer a Scorpion, Robert.  I am the ilKhan.  I will be accompanied by the Ebon Keshik and will travel with the Hellions to Arcturus where I can communicate rapidly with all of my field commands from a central location.”

“But the Ebon Keshik is only a Trinary!”

“For now, but I intend to expand it to a full Cluster.  I will be issuing a call for volunteers on the morrow.”

Nikolai shook his head and smiled a wry smile.  “I am a Warden, Robert.  And a Scorpion.  I must weld the Clans to me and my leadership so long as I hold this post—and I cannot do so if I favor my own Clan above others.  I must be neutral to hold the respect and loyalty of the Khans.”

Robert N’Buta inhaled sharply, his eyes having grown wide.  And then he bowed, kneeling on one knew, his head lowered towards the ground.  “Seyla, ilKhan.  Seyla.”

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

“There is just one final question that must be asked before the vote, ilKhan Djerassi,” said James Ward, saKhan of the Wolves.  “When shall the bidding begin for each of these sixteen Occupation Zones?”

“There shall be no bidding, saKhan Ward,” answered Nikolai from the well.  “Just as during Operation Klondike, did our first ilKhan and his advisor choose each of the targets, so it shall be now—either that or you must choose a new ilKhan for I shall not allow this enterprise to become torn apart because of your petty grievances between each other.”

“The Adders shall take Oliver, and the worlds around it.  Not because they have gained because it was an Adder Khan that nominated me, nor because he helped to plan the Invasion.  But because his three Galaxies will bear the brunt of the inevitable counter-attack—and of all our Clans his is indeed the most likely to use . . . shall we say unorthodox means to counter them, quiaff?”

Soft laughter rolled through the gallery, and even the Wolf saKhan nodded his head in agreement.  “Aff,” he answered.

“Next will be the Falcons in their Zone around Skye, for they have the honor and the spirit and the courage to help the Adders defend our front, while the remainder of us ensure that the House of Steiner will never again be a great power.  The Scorpions will take Hesperus—not because they are my Clan, but rather since we routinely train our front-line forces on Dagda; I would wager that none among you are more experienced in such rugged, inhospitable terrain.  Further, of all the targets, Hesperus II possibly has the largest and most experienced defenders assigned to it,” the ilKhan looked directly into the eyes of the assembled Khans.  “I have not the slightest doubt that the Scorpions will take Hesperus II and then hold it against counter-attack—but neither do I doubt that there shall be many empty position within our toumen before the end of Phase II.  However, if any of you care to take these casualties in place of my Clan, then you are more than welcome to do so.”

Silence greeted this announcement, and Nikolai nodded.

“The Ravens will take Alarion, and the Bears Tharkad.  The Cats shall seize Donegal, the Coyotes Izar, and the Wolves Furillo.  Vipers, yours shall be Coventry, while the Jaguars will have Pandora, and the Mandrills Port Mosby.  For Arcturus the Hellions will be its doom, while the Horses will crush Sudeten beneath their hooves.  The Spirits will take Tamar, the Sharks Twycross, and the Cobras will deal with Wotan.”

There were several frowns among the gallery, but no audible objections were raised.  “A complete copy of the proposal has been made available for each of you, on your secure server, along with a list of ships that your Clan will be required to contribute.  During Phase I and II, these ships will be under your control, but for Phase III we will require unity of action.  Khan McKenna, would you serve as the Admiral of the Khans for that Phase?”

The Raven looked shocked as Nikolai offered her the unified command of nearly one hundred and sixty Clan WarShips—a force such as had not existed since the disbanding of the SLDF.  But she licked her dry lips, and nodded.  “Aff, my ilKhan.  If that is your will, then I—as every Khan and every Warrior—am prepared to serve.”

Nikolai nodded.  “Then we can either vote now, or wait until after you have thoroughly read the plan.”

A quick consensus revealed that the Khans were ready to vote now—and by a measure of thirty-one to one, with the ilKhan abstaining, Operation Revival Reborn was approved.

And here are the revised OBs for each Clan, including their combat Clusters, PGCs, Solahma, Naval Assets, Supply Assets, primary target (phase I) and secondary targets (phase II).

MA

Chapter One

April 1, 3051
Zenith Jump Point
Tharkad
Lyran Commonwealth, Federated Commonwealth

“Jackson, can you spare a poor spacer a smoke?”

The Lyran tech shook his head as he lobbed a pack across the command deck of the Olympus-class Recharge Station that protected the capital of the Lyran Commonwealth’s half of the Federated Commonwealth.  The pack slowly flipped end over end in the zero-gravity environment, until the second tech on duty reached out and snagged it in midair.

“Thanks, pal, you’re a real life saver.”

Jackson leaned back in his seat—held in place by his restraining straps—and sighed.  “And if you would learn to quit betting the farm on drawing an inside straight, Frank, maybe you would have enough to afford a pack or two of your own.”

“But good buddy, I’ve got you.”

Even the chief of the watch smiled at that, but that smile quickly evaporated when one of his signal lights began to flash.  “Alright, everyone, unscheduled incoming.  Frank—warm up the guns and alert the third watch to stand by; Jackson, get on the horn to the planet.  Sammy, what is the reading looking like?”

“Neutrino emissions look like a single ship transit, boss, but that can’t be right.  Extrapolated mass is way too high to be one ship—it’s got be a convoy, five or six vessels at least to put out this high an emission.”

The chief scowled as he examined the numbers himself, and slowly came to the same conclusion.  But no convoy was scheduled . . . he lifted the cover on the red button that would send the station to full alert and pressed it down just as Jackson let out a yell.

“EMERGENCE!  JESUS CHRIST CHIEF, WHAT THE HELL IS THAT?”

As the red lights came on in the command deck and a klaxon began to sound, the chief of the watch looked up to see the biggest vessel he had ever seen with his naked eyes lying just fifty kilometers off the station.  The magnifiers built into the command chair showed him the details in perfect resolution—including the massive white head of a snarling bear emblazoned across the bow.  And it was like nothing he had ever before seen.

But then his warbook beeped at him, and the chief looked down.  It was showing a 70% probability that the vessel was a Terran Hegemony Monsoon-class Battleship!  None of those things had existed for more 350 years!  But that was what the warbook said.

“Chief, someone over there wants to speak with the man in charge,” Jackson said softly.

With a dry mouth, the chief nodded, and threw a switch that opened his own radio connection.  “Senior Chief Warrant Officer Nicolas Sutherland, Federated Commonwealth Customs Enforcement Service.  Unknown intruder, identify yourself immediately.”

For a second static hissed.  “Senior Chief Sutherland, we are Clan Ghost Bear, and we claim this systems and all within in the name of our Clan and of all the Clans of Kerensky.  Do you dispute this claim?”

Sutherland’s eyes boggled.  “Dispute?  Hell, yes, I dispute your claim.  Who the hell do . . .”

“Transmission severed at the source, Chief,” Jackson said, as Sutherland saw the nose of the impossibly big ship swing away—and dozens of ports on her side suddenly snapped open.  “Open fire!” he yelled, “Hit with everything you’ve got!”

But it was far, far too late for that, and in a single broadside the WarShip blew the recharge station into a million very small pieces.

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

Khan Jerome Jorgensson felt his stomach heave as the Eta-class Troop Carrier The Ourse Keshik jumped across empty space to arrive at one of the pirate points surrounding the Lyran capital of Tharkad.  Twelve more of the Clans front-line transports also appeared in precise formation, and as one each began to accelerate at 2-g’s towards the tiny faint blue planet centered in the holotank, its north and south poles covered with white that extended down halfway to the equator. 

The heavy gravity not visibly affecting him, the Star Colonel commanding the TroopShip crossed the bridge and gravely saluted, which Jerome returned with a simple nod.  “All ships are in position—resistance at the other jump-points has been neutralized.  We are proceeding on schedule, my Khan.”

“Time to orbit?”

“Thirty minutes, my Khan—after which we will decelerate and return to planetary orbit.  It would only add an hour if we instead decelerate the last half of the distance, and that will allow my ships to give you support, if needed.”

“Neg.  We are Ghost Bear, Star Colonel.  At the moment we have surprise, and I intend to use every precious second of it—increase thrust to maximum.”

The Star Colonel bowed his head, but the Khan was already heading towards the lift that would carry him to his DropShip—and the Ghost Bear BattleMech waiting for him within.

It is in my 'The Real Clans' Armory on Solaris VII, and is also on Heavy Metal Pros website.  But since we don't do too much Clans here, I didn't post my Clan Common WarShip series in this forum.  Oops.

MA

“Sabre Two, tighten up on my wing, and prepare to go buster.  Weapons hot.”

“Weapons hot, Skip,” answered Kirk Tigh from the cockpit of his Lucifer.  The entire aero-wing had scrambled just minutes before hand with reports of raiders—raiders, here on Tharkad.  It was unbelievable!  Tigh had never heard of such, at least not since the Second Succession War.  But it was apparently happening, so he doubled check his weapons, made certain green lights were lit on all of them, and slid closer to the wing of his section leader.

“Now,” announced the older pilots voice over the radio, and Tigh pushed the throttle to the stops, the Lucifer leaping forward in acceleration as the two fighters climbed towards the stratosphere.  And then his radar detected the incoming:  seventy-eight DropShips, with nearly two hundred fighters breaking trail ahead of them!  His face blanched white with shock—the entire Tharkad defense force had just one hundred and four fighters ready for action, and it was a heavily defended world, with two full fighter regiments on hand.  “Scheisse,” he whispered, not remembering that his mike was still hot.

“Yah, Sabre Two,” the flight leader called out.  “This is what we call a target-rich environment.”

Suddenly, thirteen of the Droppers accelerated tremendously and shot ahead of the hostile fighters—and unleashed an unnatural amount of weapons fire onto the lead Steiner light Seydlitzs and Sparrowhawks.

“And they’ve got assault DropShips,” his flight leader said, quite unnecessarily in Tigh’s own opinion.  “Ignore the assault ships, ignore the fighters, Two, we are going for the eggs.”

Tigh swallowed hard, but clicked his mike twice in answer.  He centered a large DropShip in his targeting reticule and waited for his LRMs to enter their range.  His warbook did not seem to recognize the class, but it was big and it was round—that meant it was a ‘Mech carrier.  At least it didn’t seem big enough to carry a full battalion, but it was a lot bigger than any Union had a right to be.  Still, if all they carried were a company each, that was only . . . seven plus Regiments.   Joy.

Suddenly, his threat receiver lit up—but he was still out of range of even AC-2s!  Tigh began to bank hard, but he was too slow, and a powerful stiletto of light shattered his fighter like a toy, even as his LRMs finally began to warble in his ears.  Spinning out of control, he reached down and pulled the eject handle—and then screamed as his ammunition and fuel detonated milli-seconds ahead of the chair rockets.

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

“Who the hell are these guys?” growled Marshall Nondi Steiner as she glared at her officers in the command bunker buried underneath the Steiner palace complex.  “This can’t be pirates—not attacking in such force, and is sure as hell isn’t Marik or Kurita!”

Most of her staff averted their eyes, but one young Leftenant cleared his throat.  “Marshall, the leader of the invaders is on the radio and is asking to speak with the commanding officer of the planetary defenses.”

 Exchanging a glance with Archon Melissa Steiner, Nondi nodded and spoke loudly, “This is Marshall Nondi Steiner, commanding officer of the Lyran Command of the Armed Forces of the Federated Commonwealth.   Who am I speaking with?”

“Khan Jerome Jorgensson, Khan of Clan Ghost Bear, of the Clans of Kerensky returned home from our long exile.  We claim this world, and all who dwell upon it as our own.  With what forces do you intend to defend this planet?”

“All of them ‘Khan’ Jorgensson, but tell me this:  who are you really?  Are you working for Kurita, you miserable pirate?”

Laughter emerged from the speaker.  “Bargained well and done, Marshall Steiner—and I work for no freebirth, not even the Lord of a Scavenger House.  Nor am I a pirate, and I am most certainly not miserable, although I do believe that you shall be shortly.  I accept your bid and will meet you with my entire toumen.  My primary landing zone is TharHes industries.”

Nondi jerked.  “If you think you can hold those factories, then, Mister, you’ve got . . .”

More laughter.  “Marshall Steiner, it is my intention to obliterate your factories and crush your resistance.  One could almost say that resistance is futile.  But, I digress.  Face me in your ‘Mech, Marshall Steiner—if you dare to challenge a Khan.  Or cower in your little bunker—it makes no difference to me how you die.”

The transmission with a dull pomph sound; a sound that Nondi realized was that of a ‘Mech being ejected from a DropShip.

Another aide came running in, and computer generated icons—all of a harsh red—appeared inside the factory grounds, along with more icons representing infantry.  And Nondi watched in horror as the icons depicting the 2nd Royal Guards began to quickly vanish.

“Who the hell are these people?” she whispered.

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

Jerome Jorgensson watched the thick cloud of oily black smoke spread with the north-east wind.  The men and women of the Ourse Keshik stood around him, dozens of BattleMechs, more than a hundred Elemental infantry, and his fighters ruled the skies above.  Three Galaxies of his Clan were even now spreading out, engaging the determined—but outclassed—defenders at every turn.  Already, he had reports of several casualties, but their most elite Regiment had died here, defending this ruined industrial complex.  He had to defend himself—twice—and his armor was scored in a dozen locations.  But his opponents were dead, and even now Elemental sappers were setting the demolition charges.  He nodded, and turned on his mike.  “Now we take their Palace, Ourse Keshik—follow me!”

I will give this a review.