OBT Forum

Chapter Two

April 7, 3051
The White Palace
Avalon City, New Avalon
Federated Suns, Federated Commonwealth

“ComStar did not interfere with the priority transmissions, this time, Hanse,” Justin Allard said quietly.  “I think the Precentor here on New Avalon was as shocked as we were—probably all of the intervening station heads had the same reaction.  But it is confirmed, Tharkad, Donegal, Skye, Arcturus, Furillo, Hesperus II, and Oliver are off the air—they haven’t responded to a single transmission since they reported they were under attack.  The rest of the systems we haven’t had enough time to confirm, but if the pattern holds true, we can only assume that they too were invaded and probably captured—especially given the redeployment of forces for PEGASUS.”

Marshall of the Armies of the Federated Commonwealth Morgan Hasek-Davion nodded in agreement.  “And then we have ample confirmation of this attack on Outreach, from surviving Dragoons among others.  My god, I still can’t believe whoever this is bombarded the planet from orbit!”

Justin cleared his throat.  “As much as the Dragoons may hate to admit it, the bombardment was a clean as such an attack can be—on Harlech, at least.  Their facilities in the Outback of Outreach were completely destroyed—obliterated might be a better word; that is including Blackwell Industries.”

“And their casualties?” Hanse Davion, First Prince of the Federated Suns asked.

Justin grimaced.  “Luckily, three of their regiments had already redeployed for PEGASUS, but Alpha and Delta took 80% losses apiece.  Their HQ facilities are a complete write off as well, and every DropShip and Station in orbit or on the ground was crippled if not destroyed.  Not to mention that they lost Colonel Wolf.  Civilian casualties were incredibly light for the type of attack they suffered—around thirty-five hundred dead and wounded in Harlech, close to that at Blackwell, but there is little chance of recovering any wounded from that location.  If these . . . Clans . . . had deliberately targeted the city as well as the military centers, there would be a hundred times that in dead alone.”

“So, they aren’t as completely sadistic as Romano and her spawn Kali, then,” said Hanse as he leaned back in his chair, closed his eyes, and rubbed the bridge of his nose.

Justin glanced at Morgan, who nodded sadly in agreement.  Hanse looked terrible; for the past twenty-four hours had been filled with message after message showing his finally united realm was being torn apart.  And he had viewed the message from Melissa that she and Kat had arrived on Tharkad only five hours before he received word that world was under attack.  And then the HPG had gone silent.

“We have no choice, sire, we must immediately cancel PEGASUS and redeploy those forces into the Terran Corridor,” said the Marshall.

Hanse nodded his head slowly.  “Agreed, gentlemen.  I have no doubt that both Lyran and Fed Suns forces in my wife’s realm are even now attacking this invader, but our main army is here.  We will take the time to assemble it, and then we will push these people from our worlds.  Any idea where they came from, Justin?”

“We have actually had a stroke of luck on that exact area, my Prince.  It seems that Jamie Wolf left a document in the hands of an attorney here on New Avalon, to be given to me or my successor on his death—provided that the Inner Sphere was under attack by an unknown power.  I have only had time to skim the document, but MIIO is pouring over every byte even as we speak.  As the Dragoons said, they call themselves the Clans and are the descendants of General Kerensky’s forces that departed on the Exodus prior to the 1st Succession War.  They have prepared for this day ever since, planning to conquer the Inner Sphere and restore the Star League—or a version of the Star League that they intend to run.”

“And how exactly does Jamie Wolf know of this?” asked Morgan.

“The Dragoons were an advance scout force, deployed half a century ago to gather information on the conditions here.  But they broke with their people and have since pledged themselves to our cause.”

“So, the conspiracy nuts were right about the Dragoons,” chuckled Hanse, but his face showed no levity.

“Yes, my Prince,” answered his Intelligence advisor.  “There is quite a bit of information about these Clans in the document, including their organization, their rules for combat, and a good bit of technical data as well—I’ve already turned that part over to the NAIS for analysis.”

“Do we have any idea of their total strength?”

Justin shook his head.  “According to Wolf’s brief, they have somewhere around three hundred Clusters—which he feels is easily a match for at least two unsupported Regiments of ‘Mechs.  Excluding their garrison troops, which could easily double that first figure.  Their Clusters are combined arms formations of ‘Mechs, infantry, and aerospace fighters—and according to the brief, their infantry, he calls them Elementals, are outfitted with individual power battle armor that makes them extremely mobile and deadly.”

 â€œAre you suggesting that we are going to need SIX HUNDRED REGIMENTS to stop this invasion, Justin?”

“No, that is Wolf’s total estimate of the entire Clan force.  He believes that they will commit no more than a quarter of that total—around seventy-five of their Clusters, which we can match with our active duty strength alone.”

“We could have, if had warning, and if we didn’t have to garrison our borders.  But I doubt we are going to retrieve more than twenty regiments out of the Lyran half of the realm if they are attacked defenders with such numbers on sixteen worlds.  I might be able to mass eighty or even ninety regiments, but not much more than that.”

Hanse held up his hand.  “We won’t need the full quantity immediately, they are divided on sixteen worlds, which would be . . . what?”

“Five of their Clusters on each, my Prince,” answered Justin.

“We will presume that Wolf was making his estimates conservatively and plan for ten of their Clusters to defend each system.  Morgan, can we assemble thirty or forty Regimental Combat Teams—with good, veteran regiments at their head—to head out to Oliver?”

“I can have twenty moving within 48 hours, sire, and another twenty unit’s seventy-two after that.  The remainder of PEGASUS will take at least a week to start shifting.  At least the transport is already consolidated and we haven’t started assembling the command circuit to St. Ives yet.”

“Very well, the assembly point is Outreach—and Morgan?”

“Yes, sire?”

“Make certain that the three Dragoon Regiments are included in that first task force.”

“Of course, sire.”

“Very well, gentlemen, if there is nothing else,” Hanse began, but stopped as Justin held up his hand in request.

“Justin?”

“One piece of information needs your immediate decision, my Prince.  Apparently, when the Dragoons came to the Inner Sphere, they expected WarShips to still exist.  And they brought their own.”

Morgan snapped upright in his seat, and Hanse’s eyes suddenly widened.

“Yes, sire,” Justin said with a grin, “their coordinates were included in the briefing package—beyond the Outback between the Outworlds and Tortuga in an uninhabited system.  They have been floating out there for fifty years now.”

“And just did what did our friend Jamie bring to the Inner Sphere, Justin?”

“A cruiser, a frigate, two destroyers, and two corvettes.”

“Well, well, well,” mused Hanse.  “Morgan, Justin, put together an expedition that leaves New Avalon today.  Get the NAIS to contribute, and I want officers and men that have been in the training program for the Invincibles dragooned as well.  Attach a fighter regiment from the Guards Brigade, and a battalion or three of marine infantry.  And get them moving.”

“Speaking of the Invincibles,” Hanse continued, as he rubbed his forehead again.  “How soon can we complete the first batch?”

Justin shook his head.  “We are still years from even testing them, my Prince.  Invincible doesn’t even have her transit engines installed yet, and both Indomitable and Intrepid are even further behind—Intrepids K/F drive core is still being built, although construction on her hull has already begun.”

“Perhaps, having some working vessels will show Panpour how to cut the time,” the First Prince said in a very tired, weak voice.  “Gentlemen, take care of this—I intend to lie down for a while and rest before my next meeting.”

Morgan and Justin stood, and Hanse did so as well.  “Where is Victor, Morgan?”

“The 12th Donegal was en route to St. Ives, sire, but I managed to short-stop the unit and sent orders for them to proceed to New Avalon at full speed.  He will arrive in system on Thursday.”

“Thank you, Morgan, I want to see him here; I want to be the one to tell him about his mother and sister.”

“Of course, my Prince.”

Hanse sat back down at his desk, as Morgan and Justin quietly left his office.  The First Prince of the Federated Suns—the  ruler of the most powerful realm in the Inner Sphere—leaned back in his chair, and realized just how tired he truly was.  He closed his eyes and rested his chin against his chest.  Just a few moments, he thought, a short cat-nap before I get back up.  Within seconds, the exhausted man was sound asleep.


April 10, 3051
Capital Space Port
Avalon City, New Avalon
Federated Suns, Federated Commonwealth

Leftenant Colonel Victor Steiner-Davion walked down the ramp of the Overlord-class DropShip that housed his 2nd Battalion of the 12th Donegal Guards RCT.  The remainder of the 12th were even now landing, but Barbarossa had been directed—ordered—to ground first by ground control.  Victor didn’t particularly care for such deference directed at him, but he did want to see his mother and father again; besides, he was very curious about the orders that had summoned his unit from the Lyran half of the FedCom to the Capellan border—very curious indeed.

Victor smiled as he saw Morgan Hasek-Davion and Justin Allard standing near the limo at the base of the ramp, but then he saw their faces, and his smile faded.

The Marshall of the Armed Forces of the Federated Commonwealth stepped forward, stopping two paces before Victor, and he knelt onto the ship’s ramp.

“The First Prince of the Federated Suns is dead,” he announced loudly, “Long live the First Prince—the Archon-Prince of the Federated Commonwealth Victor Steiner-Davion!”

“Long live Victor!” hailed the assembled men and women below as the blood drained from Victor’s face.  “Long live Victor!  Long live Victor!”