Biota, Colmar Theater
Lyran Commonwealth
7 May 3024
They'd reached Biota too late.
The dropship port that the Kell Hounds landed at was a wreck, with salvage crews sifting carefully through ruined buildings for salvageable equipment. Some of the crews were being assisted by Battlemechs that had obviously been hastily repaired to supplement the diminished number of labormechs.
"Well at least some of the Waco Rangers survived."
Akira Kurita looked at the battered examples. "Maybe you check that they aren't the only ones left," he suggested mildly as his Panther followed Dan Allard's Valkyrie out of the Manannon Mac Lir and onto the concrete of the landing pad. The Leopard-class dropship had done a flyover of the Ranger's base before landing and it was in even worse shape. At least here some sort of repairs were being made.
The battlemechs had drawn themselves together and were positioned to defend themselves if they came under attack by the new arrivals. Given that the Kell Hounds had enough dropships to land all four companies of Patrick Kell's First Battalion in combat readiness, with Morgan's Second Battalion and the infantry aboard a pair of freight dropships behind them, it wasn't the most fearsome of displays, but at least they would have put up a fight.
Dan moved his Valkyrie closer to them, careful to keep his targeting system from locking on. He raised the left hand of his Mech in salute. "Captain Allard, of the Kell Hounds. I take it we're still behind the Pesht Regulars?"
The largest Mech, an Awesome with a right arm that looked as if it belonged on a Thunderbolt - a recent repair job if Akira didn't miss his guess - returned the salue. "Major Keller of the Waco Rangers. Yeah, you're a day late and a dollar short, Kell Hound."
"I'm sorry to hear that," Dan said sincerely. "Did you at least get some warning?"
"Some, yes." Keller's voice softened. "If that came from you, then I guess I should thank you. We were going to have our assault battalion training down on the south continent - if we hadn't recalled them then Kurita's regiment would have ripped the rest of us apart without breaking stride."
Akira moved forward to stand beside Dan. "You're sure that it was Yorinaga Kurita?"
"A red Warhammer that no one can get a clear lock on? Oh yes, that bastard was unmistakeable. And surrounded by grey and white Mechs so that he stands out... I built up a lot of heat trying to put him down. Only hit him twice and got my arm blown off." Keller fell silent for a moment before adding: "If Colonel Waco hadn't taken him on, I'd probably be dead - or at least dispossessed."
"Where is the Colonel, sir? I'm sure Colonel Kell will want to speak to him."
The laugh he heard in response was bitter. "My colonel is dead, Captain Allard. He punched out about a second before his ammo-bins went up and one of his damn samurai picked him off with a machinegun before he was back on the ground. I guess that that was all that they wanted though because they let us break contact after that."
Akira grimaced. The Dicta Honorium made few provisions for taking prisoners and he could easily think of samurai would would think shooting down an ejected mechwarrior to be nothing but the efficient dispatch of a defeated foe. However he didn't like the idea personally and was uneasy with the notion his father might have done so - or at least have permitted one of his subordinates to have done so. Perhaps he had withdrawn in order to prevent further actions by his overeager soldiers. If rumour was correct, many of the mechwarriors in the Eleventh Pesht Regulars were fresh from the Sun Zhang Academy Cadres.
"I'm very sorry to hear that," Dan said - more out of politeness than anything else as the Waco Rangers had started out as a Liao regiment and seen mercenary service against his native Federated Suns. "Are you the senior officer then?"
"Until Paulus Noble gets out of hospital," Keller agreed grudgingly. "I suppose you want me to talk to Kell then."
"If your responsibilities permit." Dan looked at the devestation caused. The Waco Rangers did have a decent reputation, albeit as deep raiders rather than as defensive troops. But a comparatively green regiment of Pesht Regulars had torn them apart with what sounded like ease.
And there was a growing inevitability to the notion that the Kell Hounds were going to face them next.
Lake Abdoran,Maladar
St Ives Commonality, Capellan Confederation
12 May 3024
This was the best part of war, Morgan Hasek-Davion thought as his Battlemaster marched along the narrow road that threaded between the rugged cliffs and the lake. The setting reminded him somewhat of the near legendary tales of Thermopylae, roughly two and a half millenia ago. There was no crack force of spartans blocking this road however, only two ambush teams from the planetary milita that had been located and cleared by reconaissence teams hours before.
Ahead of him, Morgan could see a great arc of the road as it went around a bay, the company ahead of him and then the trailing company of the previous battalion in view: twenty-one Battlemechs in camouflage paint with just a touch of red, white and blue to mark them as part of House Davion's Brigade of Guards. The water reflected their images with almost mirrorlike precision. The view was breathtaking to the young Captain, as was the knowledge that the ten Battlemechs behind him in the column were under his command.
The battlemechs were not the only troops in evidence of course: between the two battalion groups was a trail of armoured personnel carriers and light tanks, while scout helicopters moved overhead, alert for the possibility of a sneak attack. Almost dead-centre of the bay, one of the latter was hovering only a few dozen yards above the lake, dangling a sonar probe in the water to check for battlemechs under the water.
"Hey, Captain, isn't that your old man?" The voice of Ian duPuys drew Morgan's attention from the surroundings as they marched along the arc towards the back of the bay.
Startled, the young officer looked around. "What? Where?"
From his place third in line, the Sergeant Major raised the arm of his Rifleman and pointed in the direction of a hill overlooking the bay, knowing that the compressed wrap-around view of Morgan's cockpit would let him see the gesture.
Following the line indicated, Morgan spotted a small cluster of battlemechs on the hill, all four eschewing mottled camouflage for a solid dark green suited to the parade ground: the colours of the Syrtis Fusiliers. One of those 'Mechs was a Marauder and by zooming in it could be told that where all four battlemechs had the All-Seeing Eye that represented New Syrtis, this heavy mech superimposed the Lion of the Hasek family. "You're right, it is." The young man shook his head, feeling his long red hair moving inside his neurohelmet. "He hasn't been on a battlefield since before I was born."
"Well if he wants to play the conquering Mechwarrior I suppose he has the right."
Morgan couldn't help but agree as they walked closer to the hill. The St Ives Commonality of the Capellan Confederation had been depleted by years of fighting and what remained was an uneven horseshoe of worlds with the capital at the tip of the shorter arm while the longer arm jutted into the Capellan March between the Sirdar and Alcyone PDZs.
By landing troops on Ambergrist, Tantara and here on Maladar, Michael Hasek-Davion had cut clean across that longer arm. The four systems cut off could still be reached by Capellan ships of course, but they lacked a secure route and the moral impact was undeniable. Second wave troops were already en route to two of them although no reports had arrived yet of landings. A second Davion Guards RCT - the Assault Guards - would be spearheading the attack on Texlos, home to one of the Capellan's remaining aerospace fighter factories; and the Capellan Dragoons were heading for Teng, at the tip of the Capellan salient.
"It's certainly a triumph," Morgan agreed with feigned enthusiasm. It wasn't that he doubted the accomplishment, more...
As ever, the elder Hasek-Davion was a source of mixed feelings for his only child. It had been ten years since the first break in the relationship, over a chess game of all things. Years spent on New Avalon rather than New Syrtis had widened the breach and Morgan couldn't help but feel suspicious about Michael's attempts to cross that gulf - or avoid feeling guilty about this suspicion.
"Give the Duke a salute as we pass," he ordered, seeing some of the vehicle crews popping out of cupolas to do so.
As the column approached the hill, they were blocked from sight of the summit briefly and when Morgan caught sight of his father again, the Marauder had moved to the edge of the hill, overlooking the road from the top of a high slope. He's probably spotted my 'Mech, he thought. The Battlemaster was brand new, purchased at considerable expense (in bribes for permits) from the Lyran factor on Pandora and shipped hundreds of light years so that the Duke could give his son an ride equal to that of the First Prince. It would be easily recognisable.
In case his father had anything to say to him, Morgan set one of his secondary communications channels to a private one that they had used when he was trying the Battlemaster out on one of the NAIS training ranges the previous year.
It wouldn't have surprised him to hear nothing but an impassive silence but what he picked up was neither that nor any words of support or congratulations. No, what he heard was a deep gasping for air, the fearful rasp of a man in the midst of panic.
The sound was so out of place in the quiet of an uncontested route march that Morgan was unable to wrap his head around it. Reflexively he raised his 'Mech's right arm is salute and with relief saw the right arm of the Marauder jerk upwards in reply.
So father is alright. Who is breathing into the channel like th-?
Morgan's world dissolved into fire and pain in a single inexplicable instant.
He could not have guessed how much later it was that he regained his wits. He was still strapped to his command couch but from the angle, his Mech was lying on its front, shoulders lower than hips. In front of him water was pooling on the inside of the canopy.
All of this was rather secondary to the pain in his face and shoulders. With an agonised gasp he brought his hands up to his chin and fumbled with the straps of his neurohelmet. Blood ran along his right arm as he worked, fingers fumbling with what should have had the ease of familiarity.
The strap came free and Morgan yanked the helmet off his head, screaming in shock and further pain as parts of his flesh went with it. The smell of burnt flesh was overpowering and he felt fresh blood running down onto his chest as he vomited into the water.
Fighting through the waves of pain, the young Captain disconnected the rest of his gear from the command couch before hitting the emergency release for the safety straps. Intending to catchin himself on the control console, he missed and fell face first into the dirty water. Warmed by the hot metal that had been plunged into the late, the water didn't even numb his torn and burned flesh.
The hatch out of the cockpit had been warped, but given the existing damage to the canopy Morgan was able to kick sections of the holed-armorglass out of their frame and exit in that manner, swimming down just far enough to clear the cockpit and then surfacing above the submerged shoulder of his Battlemaster. As he scrambled for handholds on the wet metal plates, he saw his father's Marauder sprawled on the hillside. One leg had been shot away and a Phoenix Hawk in Davion Guards camoflage was pinning the other to the floor. A Warhammer in the parade-green of the Syrtis Fusiliers was sprawled half on top of the heavy Mech, restraining the arms and the autocannon.
Confused and in pain, Morgan collapsed as a Valkyrie began wading carefully into the water towards him.
AFFS Field Hospital, Maladar,
St Ives Commonality, Capellan Confederation
13 May 3024
The sharp pain of a needle roused Morgan from a medical stupor. Opening bleary eyes he saw a man in the uniform of a medical assistant drawing blood.
"Wh-what happened?" he croaked.
The man didn't reply immediately, withdrawing the needle and then capping it professionally. "You're in the hospital, Captain. I'm not sure exactly what happened but you're going to be okay. Just relax and I'll send for someone to fill you in."
Slightly reassured, Morgan closed his eyes. It took him a moment to recollect the earlier events and then he jerked upright, or at least tried to. What had happened to his father? His progress was stalled by the unwelcome discovery that restraints were wrapped around him, rendering him unable to sit, much less get out of the bed.
Alarmed, he began to thrash violently and felt the lightweight field-cot rock. It was at this point that a familiar face entered the room.
"Whoa! Morgan, stop that! You'll reopen your wounds!" Nathaniel Hasek exclaimed, rushing over to steady the bed. Square jawed with his dark hair cropped short, only the muscular frame betrayed the kinship between the two men: although only a few years older than Morgan, Nathaniel was Michael Hasek-Davion's first cousin and well known to the other man.
"What's going on? Why am I tied down? Where's my father?"
"Just..." Nathaniel grabbed the cot. "Hold still a moment and I'll take these off. They had to airlift you here and they didn't want you falling out of bed."
Grudgingly Morgan ceased to strain at the straps and Nathaniel was as good as his word, undoing the buckles. "Don't get up, okay? You took a real pounding and you've still got a lot of drugs in your system." He slumped back onto the tent's other cot and sighed. "Right, what do you remember?"
"I was saluting Father. Next thing I know my 'Mech's in the lake and I'm..." Morgan grimaced, barely able to feel his face beyond the fact that it was heavily bandaged.
"Your mech took a PPC to the head. Burned straight through the armour, wrecked a good number of systems... melted a big chunk of your neurohelmet. If you'd been a touch closer or at a different angle..." The other Captain shrugged. "Don't play cards any time soon - you used up a lifetime's luck just being alive right now."
"And father?"
Nathaniel's jaw worked. "We're not sure exactly. But it was his 'Mech that fired the shot. He's... he's here." Then he circled his finger around his ear. "But not here if you get my meaning. He had to be restrained. As soon as we find one, he's going in a straitjacket."
Morgan shook his head in disbelief. "But... why would he shoot at me?"
"That's..." Whatever it was, Nathaniel was reluctant to voice it and before Morgan could press the issue he stood abruptly. "Look, give me two minutes."
He turned and walked to the entrance of the tent. "Well?"
Whoever was there replied in a low voice, one that was unclear to Morgan. To his surprise, Nathaniel seemed to grow even tenser as he turned back to him.
"Morgan, I've got some bad news."
"Is he..."
"Just..." He swallowed. "When we brought you and Michael here we did some tests. Now we both know that you are Michael Hasek-Davion's son. But the tests came up that you weren't even related. They just compared your bloodwork and his to mine and they're pretty sure just off a preliminary test that we're close kin. Which raises the question of who was in your father's Mech?"
Morgan paled. "You're wrong."
"What?"
"The real question is: where is my father?"
"I don't know."
Morgan rolled painfully, trying to get his feet under him as he left the bed. They didn't co-operate and only Nathaniel's quick reflexes kept him from crashing to the floor. Clutching his cousin's shoulders, Morgan grated: "Then find the hell out!"
Sian, Sian Commonality
Capellan Confederation
19 June 3024
Maximilian Liao and Chandra Ling were discussing the information taken from their new and most informative source of data. While the source was a veritable cornucopia of inside information about the Federated Suns, very little of it was operationally useful. Nor was it sufficent to moderate Liao's anger at the attack on the St Ives Compact.
Losing seven worlds to a Duke of New Syrtis who was supposed to be completely neutralised was unacceptable.
Still, there was useful information as a result of the operation and Director Ling had been most efficient in ensuring that there was no one who would be quite so effective in her role. And so for now Chandra Ling continued to head the Maskirova despite the official displeasure of the Chancellor.
Liao was therefore not in a good mood when the door to the chamber opened to admit his wife. "Celestial Wisdom," Elizabeth Liao greeted him, a grave look upon her face. "I apologise for disturbing you, but there is a matter that requires your immediate attention."
"What fresh burden does the universe place on my shoulders now?" he demanded, rising to his feet and striding towards the door. Waiting there was Colonel Pavel Ridzik, accompanied by a squad of the Red Lancer's attached infantry: assigned security roles around the palace in the absence of the Death Commandos. It was not lost upon the Liao patriach that the soldiers were positioned to secure two people: a hapless looking young officer and his fuming daughter.
"My apologies that this matter disturbs you, Celestial Wisdom," Ridzik said in greeting. "But it would be the itmost presumption for me to decide this matter."
"Explain yourself!"
Ridzik gestured sharply to the sweating young man. "Repeat your report, Commander."
Drawing himself up and fixing his eyes upon the ceiling of the room, he obeyed. "Sir, on the arrival of Duchess Liao for this afternoon's strategy session, her attache case was taken through the security scanner before she was admitted."
"Are you suggesting that my own heir is a security risk!?" The Chancellor's face purposed. "You pathetic worm, how dare you! And you, Ridzik, should know -"
"Dear," Elizabeth slipped her hand gently into that of her husband. "Please. Let the Commander finish his report."
Somewhat mollified, Liao nodded sharply.
"Sir, I acknowledge the error and accept full responsibility for examining the Duchess's attache case. However, that examination showed that the case contains a concealed weapon."
"Surely you must be mistaken." However, Maximilian's words lacked conviction. No one in the room could be unaware that he had seized power from his own father in a sudden coup only a few years after Candace's birth.
"Father, this is outrageous. There is no weapon and this is a threadbare attempt by that person to embarass me," Candace accused, glaring daggers at her stepmother.
Liao held his hand out for the case. "This is easy to determine," he observed and opened the case. Upending it carelessly, he tipped the papers out on the floor and ran his hand around the insides. "I feel something in the lining," he admitted. "Colonel Ridzik, provide me with a sharp blade."
Armed with a bayonet from one of the guards, the Chancellor sliced through the layers of silk used to cushion the contents of the case. It only took him a moment to produce a small pistol. It was a simple little thing - so small that it almost disappeared in his grip. With no evident means of reloading the weapon other than disassembling it, there was no doubt that it was a weapon of assassination.
"Interfering in the business of your superiors could earn you a death sentence," he told the Commander. "On the other hand, saving my life merits a reward." He gestured towards Ridzik. "Colonel, award this man the Grand Cordon of Merit..."
The soldiers knees were visibly slack with relief when the Chancellor finished the sentence with calculated cruelty. "...posthumously."
The senior officer of the CCAF didn't bat an eyelid at the capricious order. "Of course, Celestial Wisdom. And your daughter?"
"Ah yes." Maximilian Liao walked over to his now pale daughter. "Daughter, what do you have to say for yourself?"
"I have no knowledge of that weapon," she asserted. "It must have been planted there."
He chuckled coldly and held it up. "Hardly a weapon. Why it's nothing more than a toy." And then he extended his arm so that the muzzle was pointed at the bridge of Candace's nose. "Bang!" Then he lifted the gun. "You see? Nothing happened!"
He glanced around at the audience who were wide eyed at this bizarre behaviour. "That was a joke," he snapped. "Lock her up with the other fellow and shoot them together in the morning."
"Father!" Candace would have continued to protest but the Chancellor turned his back abruptly and walked back into his meeting. The Duchess turned then towards Elizabeth Liao and Pavel Ridzik, who were looking at the Chancellor's departing back. "You did this," she hissed, glaring at her stepmother.
Elizabeth shook her head. "Not my style, dear."
"Take her away," Ridzik ordered.
Candace Liao shook off the hands of the soldiers who made to take her arms. "I know the way," she spat and stalked away, surrounded by watchful guards, wrapping the last shreds of her dignity around herself. Unless her father changed his mind overnight, it was all that she had left.
Left alone in the room, Elizabeth and Ridzik exchanged glances. "Is the Chancellor... well?"
"He is under a considerable amount of stress," the First Lady of the Confederation replied equably. "There are certain medications that help him to rest."
Ridzik smiled. "It is a great relief to know that the Chancellor's health is in good hands, Lady Elizabeth."
"One does one's humble best to care for him. I gather that you will be departing tomorrow for Grand Base?"
"Yes. Someone has to take charge of the defense of Betelguse. My dropship leaves in the afternoon. Please do not be alarmed however. The command of Sian's defenses is in the hands of Colonel Abermarle and she is quite devoted to her duty of protecting the Chancellor's family."
The two parted ways, exchanging looks of tacit understanding.
Tamar, Radstadt Prefecture
Alshain District, Draconis Combine
20 June 3025
A flight of DCMS helicopters zipped across the Lyran positions, underslung particle cannons ripping armour away from 'Mechs and tanks. One of the helicopters dropped into a death-spiral as autocannon and missile launchers reached up and tore the rotor to pieces. Dan Allard saw the cockpit break away and deploy a parachute so the two man crew had probably survived.
Dan had not been among those firing. The Kell Hounds had been ordered not to expend munitions against the probing attacks they had been subjected to since landing, leaving their air defenses limited to lasers and their own PPCs. As a result they hadn't managed to bring down many of the helicopters or the hovercraft that were pulling similar hit and run attacks. On the other hand, as if put out that the mercenaries weren't playing, the DCMS crews were directing noticeably less effort against them in comparison to the Tamar Tigers, who were returning fire with enthusiasm.
"It's a very economical mode of warfare," Akira Kurita noted, lowering his PPC - he hadn't fired, since neither helicopter had strayed into range. "At the expense of perhaps two dozen helicopters lost so far, the DCMS has forced the Tigers to use up hundreds of tons of supplies repairing battledamage and reloading battlemechs, while his own heavy forces remain untouched. On the other hand, we are still advancing steadily towards the capital city."
The inital landings on Tamar had been a month before, spearheaded by Duke Kelswa's Tamar Tigers and the Hsien Hotheads mercenary regiment. The bulk of the conventional forces had arrived along with the Third Donegal Guards and the arrival of the Kell Hounds in early June had been the extent of what Katrina Steiner was willing to commit to the operation - although four regiments was certainly a respectable force.
Opposing them had been the Fifth Sword of Light under Warlord Samsonov himself and one of the Legions of Vega, as well as a formidable number of infantry and armoured regiments. It was the Legion - Vega-juuyon or the Fourteenth Legion of Vega as most of the LCAF that was providing most of the harrying forces on the Lyran advance.
And the Eleventh Pesht Regulars?
Since their dropships had landed, no one had seen a sign of them. And that worried the Kell Hounds more than anything because it was not what they had expected from Yorinaga Kurita.
"They'll move to block us," Dan answered his companion. Although technically Akira had the rank to command a company, everyone realised it would take time for the other Kell Hounds to get used to having a Kurita among them so he had been appointed as deputy commander of Dan's company. "You know the doctrine better than I do - they're going to hit us hard and fast. The only question is where and when."
"It is... possible," Akira admitted hesitantly, "That they are hampered in their command structure. Tai-Shu] Samsonov is a proud man who has faced many reversals this year. The presence of my father will complicate matters."
"Well he outranks your father... I'm being naive here, aren't I?"
"It is true that the Warlord has the advantage of rank but my father is a Kurita and the Warlord must consider the possibility that Cecilia-tono sent him there to be well placed to replace Tai-shu Samsonov as Warlord should that become necessary." He looked for a word. "I am sure that their interaction is very... polite."
Dan grimaced in understanding. "I see. Still, if they don't get their act together we'll be marching into the capital unopposed. Something tells me that your Coordinator wouldn't like that."
"Oh? What gives you that impression?"
"She's a Kurita."
The younger mechwarrior laughed. "You make a good point. Still -"
Whatever he was about to say was cut off when Fitzpatrick's Shilone rocketed overhead, wings waggling.
"Trouble's coming." Dan punched in the battalion command channel. "Patrick, Fitzpatrick just blazed past us and he's practically flapping morse code with his wings."
Another pair of Shilone's blasted past them, apparently missing the two battlemechs. While the Kell Hound fighter had their usual mix of red and black, these two had unleavened red and a flaming sword was painted under one wing: the Sword of Light.
"We got aerospace fighters," Dan added to his warning. He snapped back to the company channel without waiting for acknowledgement but was pleased to find that they were already snapping to full readiness under Akira's orders. "You're going to put me out of a job," he warned jokingly and glanced around. The Tamar Tigers were forming the most archetypal of Lyran formations: a line abreast that was anchored by the Kell Hounds on their flanks. "First Company, we're moving forwards. We need to find the Dracs before they run into us. Keep your eyes and ears wide open."
Fanning out, the twelve light and medium battlemechs marched into the rugged hills.
Sian, Sian Commonality
Capellan Confederation
21 June 3024
"Noble representatives of the Sheng and of the Barduc, I stand before you with grave news."
It was by no means the first time that Elizabeth Liao had spoken before the House of Scions. It was, she was deeply aware, perhaps the most important occasion so far.
"Many of you will be aware that only two days ago, your beloved Chancellor Maximilian Liao was forced by the weight of evidence against her to order the execution of Duchess Candace Liao for the crime of conspiracy to seize control of the Confederation." She lowered her eyes towards the podium she stood behind in feigned regret. "As you will all understand, the strain of such a betrayal heightened immeasurably the unrelenting pressure upon my husband. It is with grave regret that I must report that while alone in his office yesterday, the Chancellor collapsed and was not discovered for some time."
She raised her eyes once more, seeing looks of concern upon the two hundred-strong House of Scions. Some were carefully feigned, no doubt - Maximilian had utilised the dictatorial authority of his office relentlessly. Others - his supporters - were genuinely worried, if only for their own power and perquisites. "Fortunately, he was discovered in the evening and the palace physicans assure me that he is in a stable condition. However, the Chancellor remains comatose and there is no certainty as to when he will awaken. In these dangerous times, the ship of the state is without a helmsman."
There was a long empty silence and Elizabeth allowed the tension to rack up before continuing.
"Early this morning, a meeting of the Prefectorate unanimously agreed that I will be acting as Regent for the duration of my husband's incapacity." That meeting had been quite simple to arrange: with Romano and Candace dead, Maximilian comatose and Victor Hargreaves absent from Sian there were only two Prefects: Elizabeth herself and Chandra Ling. Given that Elizabeth had entirely genuine documents confirming that she had her husband's proxy - intended for an absence from Sian, but valid none the less - as Prefect, she had a majority vote all on her own and Ling had wisely not contested her decisions.
"My first decision as Regent is with regard to the Prefectorate. It is obvious, of course, that two seats have been left vacant due to deaths in the current war. However in both cases these seats represent Commonalities that are much depleted in size as a result of that same war. It is therefore my decree that the Commonality of Tikonov be dissolved and its administration and government be vested upon the Commonality and Prefect of Chesterton. It is also my decree that the Commonality of St Ives be dissolved and its administration and government be vested upon the Commonality and Prefect of Capella."
"Finally, because the current size grants it disproportionate influence, I order the division of the Sian Commonality with the worlds rimwards of and including Grand Base and Kasdach joining into a new Commonality." Elizabeth leant forwards. "I would like to place before the House of Scions the nomination of Colonel Pavel Ridzik, Lord of Grand Base and the current Military Director as Prefect for this new Commonality."
The Lama of Preston, one of Elizabeth's own supporters within the House of Scions rose to his feet. "I second the nomination and move that Lord Ridzik be elected by acclaimation."
A torrent of opposition failed to materialise and one by one the members began to clap their hands until all those present were indicating approval either out of a sincere desire to support the new Regent or a sincere desire not to be seen to be in opposition to her.
"I thank you for your support," Elizabeth told them, bowing her head to indicate humility. "I have two further announcements to make today, of policies that it is my intention to pursue."
"Firstly it is my intention to restore the capital of the Capellan Confederation to it's birthplace: the planet of Capella."
There was no opposition to that, and with good reason. Capella was not only the centre of Elizabeth Liao's personal holdings and powerbase, it was also the traditional seat of the House of Scions. The symbolic move suggested that the balance of power between House, Prefectorate and Chancellor might be shifting in their favour. More pragmatically, the inevitable strains of such a reorganisation would allow Elizabeth to carry out a few quiet adjustments to the ministries.
Maximilian would be furious to learn of this, but Elizabeth was quite certain that in the unlikely event that the physicians managed to bring in out of the coma then the same poisons she had used to induce it would have crippled his higher faculties. Even awake he would be no challenge to her authority.
"Secondly," she announced. "It is my intention to pursue peace negotiations with Hanse Davion. Let the other Houses bleed themselves to death in this endless conflict. The Capellan Confederation will waste no more lives in pursuit of an empty throne that no one would obey even if we did hold it."
She was prepared for opposition on this point: protests of pride and of tradition. But none materialised. Inside her head Elizabeth wondered if it had been this easy for Cecilia Kurita to pursue peace instead of war.
Tamar, Radstadt Prefecture
Alshain District, Draconis Combine
21 June 3025
The red Victor sprawled on the ground in front of the Kell Hounds, the charge it had led broken by the fall of the Assault Mech. Patrick Kell would have taken more satisfaction in the sight if the ground that the DCMS mechwarriors were falling back over wasn't littered with the wreckage of the Tamar Tigers. Selvin Kelswa was somewhere amid the ruins, his Crusader lost in the maze of twisting ridges.
A flicker of grey caught his eye and he saw grey-painted battlemechs forming up on a ridge well outside the range of the Kell Hounds. The new arrivals were acting as a rallying point for the retreating Sword of Light. "Looks like the Hotheads couldn't stop Yorinaga Kurita, " he observed.
"I had a feeling that they wouldn't." The natural movements of the Kell Hounds had scattered them during the battle and Morgan had elected to place his Archer next to his brother's Thunderbolt while they regrouped. As the commander of the Second Battalion, Salome Ward's Wolverine was nearby but she was still keeping an ostentatious distance from Morgan except when their military duties demanded it. "I guess it's time."
"You don't have to do this Morgan. We're not surrounded and we aren't even all that badly outnumbered this time. We could fall back towards the Donegal Guards and link up with then."
"I don't think that would be wise." Morgan's voice was almost serene. "At least part of the Legion of Vega is in our rear area and the chances are quite good that they could slow us up enough for the other DCMS forces to catch up. If it comes to a general fight, we have better odds here."
"But you don't think it will come to that?"
"The attack on Tamar has failed, Patrick. Yorinaga knows that he doesn't have to make another attack to accomplish that. If he's going to fight us now, when we don't have any strategic option but to withdraw offworld, it's because he has another objective."
"You?" Patrick asked.
"Me."
"That's... kind of egocentric of you, Morgan."
"Tell me I'm wrong."
Patrick's shoulders slumped. "You're not wrong. Dammit."
The Archers arm rose in salute. "Colonel Kell."
"Colonel Kell," Patrick returned in a hollow voice.
Morgan started to walk his Archer forwards, slowly. Deliberately. Making no effort to hide. He had travelled no more than a hundred metres before a 'Mech broke away from the Kuritan ranks. A red Warhammer, familiar from four years before on this very world.
Yorinaga Kurita and Morgan Kell stopped their battlemechs somewhat under a kilometer apart. It was hard to tell from a distance for Patrick's sensors could not detect either and he was using only the telescopic functions of his visual sensors to trace the two red Battlemechs.
"What is he doing?" Salome asked. "He can't mean to fight Yorinaga again!"
"Unless I guess my guess, that's exactly what they have in mind."
The woman's 'Mech jerked awkwardly as she moved up to stand next to Patrick. "It doesn't make sense. No one has anything to gain here: they don't have the numbers to take us on this ground and we're sure not going to be pushing them off Tamar this year."
"This isn't about Tamar." Patrick sighed. "I wish like hell Akira Kurita had never dragged Morgan out of Zaniah."
"Most of the regiment think it's the only think he's done right in his life, starting from being born in the Combine."
"The way Brand goes on, more like he was conceived. But they're wrong. He's a good officer and he's loyal to his salt: otherwise do you think he'd be standing here with us instead of on the other side of the field with his dad?"
"He might just be crazy," Salome observed. "That special, hereditary kind of crazy that runs in mechwarrior families." She'd know - Wards had fought for the Commonwealth since the fall of the Star League.
Patrick grunted. "Just keep your battalion under control. It's starting."
It was a strange fight to watch. Any mechwarrior could draw conclusions about another mechwarrior from the way that the other's 'Mech moved and it was plain to the observers that both were excellent; but whatever effect was inhibiting Patrick's targeting system was clearly affecting them as well, both were missing what should have been relatively easy shots as they closed in on each other. Without the sophisticated computers assistance, this would be settled at point-blank ranges where neither could miss.
Morgan's Archer was better armoured than the Warhammer but in this sort of close quarters brawl, its massive missile bays would be ineffectual as the LRMs would not have time to arm themselves. Nonetheless, he scored the first hits, a meagre handful of missiles out of his second volley cratering armour across the Warhammer.
Having paced himself, shooting first one and then the other PPC, it was with his third attempt, this time with both PPCs firing, that Yorinaga Kurita scored a hit, blasting more than half a ton of armour away from the Archer's right arm.
As the range dropped below two hundred metres, Morgan's missile pods closed up and he fell back on firing with his lasers. However, as he scaled a low ridge, closing in, Yorinaga came to a halt and fired a carefully placed salvo: one PPC hitting the Archer's right arm again, the chest lasers and machineguns tearing through more armour and then a salvo of short range missiles crashing into the 'Mech. One struck the exposed structural beam that made up the core of the Archer's upper right arm and the forearm spun away, taking with it one of Morgan's forward lasers.
Apparently undaunted, Morgan pushed his 'Mech faster and crossed the last hundred metres at almost the full speed that the heavy battlemech was capable of, despite the incline of the ground. Overheated by Yorinaga's salvo the other Mech couldn't evade fast enough and the elder Kell led with the right shoulder of the Archer as he ploughed deliberately into the Warhammer.
Both 'Mech's fell to the ground but the Archer was on top. Without bothering to stand, Morgan wrestled his 'Mech forward, kicking at the ground for leverage, and then brought his left arm around.
"Did he just punch Yorinaga's cockpit?" Salome asked.
"I don't think so." Patrick had had a better angle. "I think... he's covering the faceplate. Yorinaga can't eject while he's doing that."
Neither of the battlemechs moved for a long moment. On both sides of the field, mechwarriors muttered and tried to obtain a better view.
And then searing white plasma flared as it melted its way out of the block torso of the Archer. It engulfed the battered battlemech... and then the adversary pinned beneath it was also consumed by the explosion.
Try as he might, Patrick Kell could see no trace of an ejection from his brother's battlemech
