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The Fleet settled into high orbit above the planet, just outside of the range of the surface-based Space Defense Installations—although every threat receiver in the Fleet was going wild with the ranging lidar emerging from the surface.  Slowly the Fleet spread out to cover the entire planetary surface, but the main part of that vast armada was concentrated above the Eurasian plateau.


November 6, 2768
SLS McKenna
High Orbit, Terra
Empire of Amaris (Terran Hegemony)

“Communications, open a channel to the surface,” Kerensky said.  He waited until the rating acknowledged his commander and the light on the side of the screen near his knee stopped blinking and turned a brilliant green.

“Stefan Amaris.  I demand your immediate and unconditional surrender to the authority of the Star League.  Stand down your forces and you will be given a fair trial.  You have five minutes to comply—no further requests for surrender will be made.”

Silence reigned over the flag bridge of the mighty battleship as the seconds and minutes slowly passed.  Kerensky nodded to himself as the count-down timer reached zero and there was no reply from the surface.

“All ships channel, communications,” he said softly.  “This is Kerensky.  Ship, battalion, regiment, brigade, division, corps, and army commanders open your sealed orders encoded Ragnarok Seven—authentication code Cameron Two Two Four Alpha Three.  Execute revised operations plan in fifteen minutes from my mark.  I have faith that you will overcome any difficulties posed by this sudden change in orders, my troops.  Do your duty, remember your training, and we will prevail here today.  MARK!”

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

“We’re dropping on a different continent!  Fifteen god-damned minutes before the Drop!  He can’t be serious,” sputtered brevet-General Conner Stirling.  “What the Hell happened to the Russian landing?”

“Hai, General Stirling,” answered Minoru as he tightened his chest straps.  “We are trained and prepared for this—our troops are trained and prepared for this.  It was . . . necessary.  Amaris had a copy of the original Operations Plan.”

“My god,” the Highlander whispered over the radio.  “But that means . . .”

“Yes, Conner-san.  His troops will be far out of position for our actual landings.”

“TWELVE MINUTES TO DROP:  ALL MECHWARRIORS STAND BY,” announced the DropShip’s loudspeakers.

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

“THEY’RE WHAT!” screamed Erik in the private briefing room of the Archon aboard LCS Tharkad.

“They changed the whole plan, Erik.  The landing zone is in bloody North America, not Russia!” the Archon answered as he held his head in both hands.  “They know, they have to know!”

“They can’t know . . . it isn’t possible,” snarled the Lyran intelligence chief.

“Then why the change?  Why now?  I’m not a General Erik, but it has to play Hell with their deployment schedule.  Formations are going to get buggered up something fierce—they must have a had reason to change it.  And even a more pressing reason to keep it secret until now.”

“They . . . they . . . can’t,” he sputtered, speechless for the first time in a long time.

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

“Lord Kerensky, Lord Kurita is holding for you,” a comm-tech called out.

“Minoru,” said Aleksandyr as he activated the comm.  “What can I do for you in the ten minutes we have before you drop?”

“I would ask that you open your ship’s secured files.  Within it there is a document from Stephen Cameron that needs to be transmitted immediately to Archon Steiner,” Minoru nodded as Aleksandyr sucked in a deep breath of air.  “Yes.  And fear not, Aleksandyr, “I shall secure your landing zone and I shall hold it.”

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

Eighty-eight McKenna-class battleships suddenly shifted orbit and changed their vector to cross the North Atlantic.  Entering the range of planetary based SDS systems, all of them turned to present their broadsides to the planet and unleashed Hell on a mere three defense installations:  one in the Appalachians, the second on the island of Cuba, and the third buried deep within the Ozarks.  Thousands of aerospace fighters tore into the atmosphere and plunged deep, even as the SDS returned fire, ripping apart a dozen of the McKennas in quick succession.  Heavily laden with bombs, the fighters broke through the defensive fire—at the cost of nearly a third of their number—and put their ordnance directly on target.

The McKennas were joined by cruisers and destroyers, and the firefight grew even more intense.  But then the Appalachia battery fell silent, followed quickly by the Ozarks.  Finally, despite the loss of fourteen hundred aerospace fighters and twenty-seven irreplaceable McKennas, the Cuban battery too ceased all fire.

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

“Archon, we have received an eyes-only transmission for you from the Flagship,” a voice said from the speaker.

“Put it through,” Robert commanded with a frown.

“Yes sir, it appears to be a recording, sir.”

The miniature holo-graphic display on Robert’s deck lit up and an image of Stephen Cameron suddenly appeared.  “I’ll make this short, Archon Steiner.  I know what you and Erik Kiplinger did; my wife’s blood lies on your hands.  And you both are guilty of far worse.  But I can’t prove it; and the High Council will not remove you without that proof.  So be it, Archon.  This is for Marianne and my dead daughter, you son-of-a-bitch.”

Robert stared at Erik in horror as the transmission ended.

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

“NUCLEAR DETONATION!” bellowed one of the ratings on Kerensky’s flag bridge.  “LCS Tharkad . . . she’s gone, Lord Kerensky.  The Archon was aboard that ship!”

The corner of his mouth twitched, but Aleksandyr sternly forced his face into immobility.  “Were they hit?”

“No, my Lord.  The explosion came from within the ship’s hull.”

“All ships, ensure that any nuclear ordnance in your magazines are not armed!  We cannot afford another accident of this scale.”

“Comm, send my personal condolences to Archon Jennifer aboard her transport,” the Supreme Allied Commander continued.

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

Two hundred and eighty-eight Overlord and Dictator class DropShips swung low into the atmosphere, bearing Minoru’s Assault Corp on board.  At 36,000 feet, even as Rim World conventional fighters and aerospace fighters raced to intercept, the DropShip’s ejected eight divisions of BattleMechs—and only BattleMechs.  Ninety-six regiments worth of ‘Mechs rained down from the sky over the northern half of Alabama and Georgia.

The speed of the assault—and the fact that all of the Rim Worlds leaders knew where the assault was coming—allowed the Dragon and his Corps to land without a single casualty.  That grace period enjoyed by the lead elements would not last for long.

Thanks for the early Christmas Present. Also they deserved worse but a cleanseing fire is a cleanseing fire.

Reminds me a lot of D-Day and the Nazis reaction. Enjoyable read, looking forward to more war!

Oh very good MA, see you have been reading up on our nautical design discussions. 

November 6, 2768
Headquarters, 4th Imperial Army
Nashville, North America
Empire of Amaris (Terran Hegemony)

“General Cobb,” Michael Clinton said as he stared down at the map before him.  “You managed to pull most of your division back across the Tennessee, correct?”

“All but a few regiments, Sir.  They hit hard and fast and I wanted to put some defensive terrain between them and me as soon as possible.”

“Yes, we lost the 8th Armored Division when they tried to make a stand in Atlanta.  That puts a hole in our defenses, but I am bringing reinforcements down from New England, the Midwest, and Texas.”

Clinton stood up and stretched and then he lit a cigar.  He took several puffs and then pointed at the map with it.  “This is our perimeter, gentlemen:  in the center we have the Tennessee River to the Appalachians, then the Savannah River to the Atlantic will be the eastern sector.  4th Army has enough troops that we can hold those lines if we dig in right now.  General Cobb, I want your division to get to work on the Tennessee line, while General Boleyn, your 52nd Division is responsible for the Savannah line.  General Craig, I know your 13th has been hard hit, but I want you to take the connecting sector of the Appalachians.  Your Light Dragoons and Jump Infantry regiments should be able to hold that line, even understrength.”

All three of Clinton’s divisional commanders nodded their understanding.  “Meanwhile, if I can get an answer from Unity City, we’ll bring in IX Corps from Texas—their three divisions should be able to hold the line of the Mississippi from Memphis to the Gulf.  I’ve already ordered XX Corps and LI Corps to get down here ASAP.  Depending on how many more troops they put on the ground here, we should be able to hold until reinforcements arrive from out west, or from Mexico.”

“General,” interjected Cobb.  “Any word on resupply—some of my regiments are down to half their basic load.”

“The trucks are already moving forward, Henry, along with as many ‘Mechs, tanks, and infantry as I could scrounge from detachments in the Cumberland Plateau.”

“Sir, some of my units are reporting civilian traffic is impeding their movement.”

“Damn it Blake,” the Army commander shouted at Boleyn.  “Warn them once if you have to, and then shoot them off the road if they don’t move!  You know how the Emperor will react if he learns that you are letting civilians slow you down.”

There was silence in the tent.  “And I have already given orders to have half-a-dozen squadrons of Makos prepped with tactical devices.  They will be standing by to give close support to any element of 4th Army that needs it.”

Henry Cobb winced.  “That is not going to make us very popular in these parts, General Clinton.”

“Yeah.  But I figure that particular complication is for after we contain this drop zone and then push Kerensky off planet.  In the meantime, James, I want the engineering brigade to begin prepping every bridge that handle anything over twenty tons with explosives.  If it comes down to it, stopping their logistics flow might mean more than the cost of rebuilding them afterwards.  Highway, rail, what-have-you, make all of them ready to go in the water.  Blake, you just get your trooper to the riv-“

The door to the briefing room slammed open and three Internal Security officers walked into the room, followed by a squad of underlings carrying assault rifles—with fixed bayonets.

“General Clinton,” one of the IntSec officers barked out.  “By the order of his Imperial Majesty, Stefan I, you are hereby relieved of your command.  You are under arrest for treason against the Empire of Amaris, and incompetence in the command of His Armies.”

Michael Clinton’s knees buckled and he nearly collapsed, but the other two IntSec officers were there and they hauled him from the room.  “Now, gentlemen, and I use that term loosely.  I am General James Larson, and I have been authorized to assume command of 4th Army.  Why are my division commanders just standing here and doing nothing?”

Henry Cobb sucked in his breath and then he shook his head.  “Sir, we were finalizing plans for establishing a defensive line to con . . .”

He was interrupted by a fist slamming down on the table.  “No, no, NO!  We will not stand on the defense, we will attack and we will drive these traitors from our soil!  If I have to arrest every last one of you cowards, I will do so, but I will not tolerate such defeatism in the ranks of my Army!”

From outside the building came a salvo of rifle fire, and General Larson smiled.  “General Clinton has just been summarily executed for failing his Imperial Majesty, gentlemen.  Anyone care to join him?”

There was absolute silence.  “Very well, you know your jobs, so do them!  Or you—and your families—will pay for you insolence and incompetence.”

Larson looked down at the map and ripped it, and the defensive lines drawn on it apart.  “Well?  What are you waiting for?  You are dismissed—and gentlemen, I want to be informed of the gains of our offensive within the hour!

Reminds me of Hitler. Both Vile Evil and Sometimes Very Very Stupid Things.

Thomas Marik considered the tactical screen as Bastogne plunged into the atmosphere.  He checked the hull ionization and as the numbers lowered to the point where his radio was once again operable, he punched the key that would patch him through to General Montoya.

“General Marik,” the burly man said over the video monitor. 

“Minoru Kurita has broken their defense line at the Tennessee, General.  Shift V Corps to land north of the river on the Cumberland Plateau; they are to attach themselves to his command move out with all haste.”

“Sir, that is dangerously close to effective range for the Blue Ridge SDS.  V Corps can land south of the river in absolute safety—and still link up in less than two hours.”

“That is two hours, General, for the Rim Worlders to get their act together.  Divert them—on my authority as Deputy Commander of Operation Ragnarok.”

Montoya paused for a moment, and then simply answered, “Yes sir.”

“And have one of Eleventh Armies support brigades divert as well—the Advanced Guard is probably very low on munitions, especially since his own supply ships got hammered in Wave 1.”

The older SLDF General nodded, and then the screen cut off.  Thomas Marik braced himself against the shaking of the DropShip and waited for the rapidly descending DropShip to touch down.

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

“Cobb lost the entire Corps?” Sara Craig asked her intelligence officer in horror?

“Well, it was Larson’s plan, and he was there in person—to assume command if Cobb proved useless.  But both of his divisions are shattered beyond recognition; I doubt we’ll be able to reform a single regiment from the survivors.”

So much for holding at the best damn defensive line this side of the Rockies, she thought.  She shook her head and simply stared at the hundreds of additional DropShips descending on the cleared drop-zone.  “And that isn’t an entire Star League Army, Will, I don’t know jack about soldiering.

She licked her dry lips.  “All right, our right flank has just collapsed, and those damn Highlanders are still hitting our lines hard.  Blake’s got his hands full on the left as well with the Liao volunteers, and it’ll be hours before the next wave of reinforcements arrives from up north—if Larson doesn’t divert them to Nashville,” the miserable incompetent coward, she added to herself.

“We can’t hold this line with our flank in the air, and we sure as Hell can’t attack.  Ok, then, send a message to Boleyn—the 13th is bugging out to the Asheville Castle Brian.  I recommend he pull the 52nd back to the Santee/Catawba line.  I can’t protect his flank on the Savannah line any longer.”

She stared at the map again and shook her head.  “Pull out the infantry, followed by armored elements, then artillery and HQ, and have the ‘Mechs cover our rear.  People, we have to do this fast and smart—if the Highlanders get an inkling we are pulling back, they are going to be all over us.  Will, how many FASCAM rounds are in the division’s inventory?”

“Nine hundred and forty-four, as of twenty minutes ago, General.”

“I want every last of one of them covering each line of approach the Highlanders might use for pursuit.  The shells are cheap if they keep this division alive.”

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

Conner Stirling was a frustrated man.  Until the SLDF support elements arrived, he couldn’t cross the Savannah—and this Rimmer commanding the defense of the southern tip of the Appalachians was as tenacious as hell.  Oh, he couldn’t fault that Lord Kerensky had selected his command—with their high preponderance of jump jets—for the east, but that meant that Minoru’s half of the Advanced Guard had far more room to maneuver out west.

Still, he was pushing his opponent, slowly and painfully farther into the mountains and hills.  But he hadn’t broken—and if Stirling had judged him correctly he wouldn’t.  It meant a long hard slog, through broken and steep terrain—but then word had come of the collapse of the Tennessee line.  Now, Stirling had swung the 1st and 3rd Kearny Highlanders, supported by a dozen other regiments of volunteers around his left flank to pin the Rimmer from two fronts—and he would crush her lighter ‘Mechs and vehicles like a walnut in a cracker.

But then his radar picked up incoming artillery and Conner looked up in misery to see the shells burst—and disperse thousands of scattered mines across his line of advance.  A second salvo followed, and a third, and a fourth—stacking up the depth of the minefield until it was more than a kilometer deep.

As the reports came in from his flankers that the Rimmer had done the exact same thing to them, Conner gritted his teeth.  And then he slammed his fist into the command console of his Highlander-class ‘Mech as his sensor suite saw the Rim ‘Mechs pulling out of their defensive line and withdrawing.

“Someone clear me a bloody damned lane!” he swore.