SLS Callabero, High Orbit
Canopus IV, Magistracy of Canopus
17 June 2578
Amalthia Kincaid did not consider herself to have a formidable depth of naval expertise, but she fully understood what had happened earlier. The shattering casualties amongst the aerospace wings had left the morale among their peers, and the rest of the fleet, somewhere around the level of their toes.
An army that believed that it could not win, would not win. The general saw no reason that a fleet would be any different.
“An expensive reconnaissance,†she admitted out loud, keeping her expression calm. Not unconcerned, but by no means panicked. “But now that they’ve had to show their hands, we can counter them.â€
Captain Bridger was no less aware of the potential disaster that they were facing. “It’s a touch concerning that some of their warships can survive nuclear strikes, at least in the low kiloton range.â€
“Quite so. The structural bracing must be formidable. I’m no engineer, but how much tonnage would you guess they devote to hull reinforcements to manage that.â€
“Almost as much as the engines.†Bridger had a background in the Hegemony’s shipbuilding industries and was able to make rough calculations in his head. “They must be monitors, no jump drives. There’s no other way that they could manage to build a hull that large and the sort of monstrous engines that would be necessary to push those cruisers up to four gravities of acceleration.â€
“Then this battle is going to be decided in the first few exchanges of fire. Whichever fleet can survive the most nuclear weapons wins.â€
“I can’t promise that it’s us. We’ve got a lot of ships, but their ships are much more resilient.â€
Kincaid nodded. “Well no one ever said that we had a safe job. All ships are to load as many tubes as possible with nuclear weapons. A lot of them won’t receive a chance to fire a second salvo so we need the first one to count.â€
“Losses are likely to be heavy.†Bridger warned her.
“I know.†She looked around. “Captain, this isn’t for general circulation but this battle is our Gettysburg. If we win here then the war goes on. But if we lose... then it may be the last battle of the Star League Defense Forces.â€
“There are other fleets... other Corps...â€
“Not many. And you don’t need me to tell you how rocky morale has been lately. You know the old saying: victory has many fathers but defeat is an orphan? We’ve had too many defeats and no victorys to point to. Sending troops convinced that they will not – cannot – win, is a guarantee of failure. I get the impression that the First Star Lord will sue for peace unless we can find him a victory to rally the Star League behind him.â€
“From everything I’ve heard, the Periphery won’t accept anything short of the disbanding of the Star League,†Bridger pointed out.
“I don’t know how accurate that is, but you could be right.†She looked at the display. “We seem to be more or less down to manuvering speeds unless I’m very much mistaken. Please advise all vessels that we shall seek action. Excepting only the escorts for the transport fleet all ships will engage the enemy.â€
The SLDF ships moved forwards and the Canopians reformed to meet them – their smaller but far more numerous vessels readying themselves for the slaughter ahead.
On both sides firing plans were readied and courage mustered. This was no sternly scientific battlefield – it was going to be a crude battering match.
In the end the only question was which would fire as they closed in, each waiting for the chance to get their shot off with the greatest possible accuracy, pitting that desire against the urgency that if they waited too long... they might not have the chance to fire at all.
In the event they both did.
On the surface of Canopus Savitri Centrella watched with stony eyes as ships blew apart. The SLN’s Quixotes were badly out-numbered but each could bring at least six missile tubes to bear, while the Melchiors could only manage one and lacked even the simple arrays of lasers that served the Quixotes for missile defence.
Fortunately for the crews, each Melchior had a single lifeboat and no sooner had they fired their first Santa Ana nuclear missile than the boats were launched. Most made it, racing desperately back for Canopus IV. Behind them hundreds of defense platforms had been destroyed, but the veritable constellation of their remains was coming into contact with the debris from scores of frigates torn into millions of pieces by their counter-salvo.
The sheer mass of fragments left radar virtually useless and the survivors on both sides clawed their way through collision after collision, seeking their remaining enemies. Coordination was impossible.
Here the Canopus-class dreadnoughts and Porcupine-class battlecruisers had the advantage with thick layers of armour and powerful engines to force their way through. But now the numbers favoured the Star League. HMS Adam Buquoy tore three of the Star League’s Lola-class destroyers apart but they had been covering the damaged SLS Zorro which managed to turn around and bring its bow tubes to bear, firing its last missiles into the battered dreadnought.
Savitri’s preferred flagship, the battlecruiser HMS Concubine, managed to smash through the remaining fighter screen of SLS Callabero to bring its lasers to bear at point blank range. With no remaining nuclear weapons in its magazines, Kincaid’s flagship fired back with conventional missiles. Briefly they exchanged fire before the frigate broke in half under the weapons fire and the battlecruiser drifted, engines disabled by multiple missile impacts. The crew took to their lifeboats, scuttling charges firing as they made their way towards the surface.
For a full day small actions flared up as in ones and twos the ships died. Savitri Centrella drank navy coffee and watched with eyes increasingly hollow. Amalthia Kincaid’s corpse drifted along with the uncountable tons of wreckage making its slow way in the direction of Canopus IV’s smokey atmosphere.
As numbers dwindled, one thing became clear: the Canopian Navy’s defence fleet was no longer enough to overpower the remaining escorts.
“Pull our ships back to cover the shipyards,†the Magestrix ordered. “The Star League doesn’t have the ships left to batter through to destroy them and to guard their transports.†Savitri looked at the wrecks and then shook her head. “They’ve won this round, but the battle will continue.†She reached out into the hologram and touched the representation of Canopus IV.
“The next battle will be fought here.â€
Astarte, Salonika
Canopus IV, Magistracy of Canopus
20 June 2578
The two hovercraft cruising across the wrecked remains of a long-abandoned strip-mine were infantry carriers – half of the fourth recon lance out of six that made up a small part the 112th (Striker) Regiment of the SLDF. The pair of LVT-4 hovertanks that formed other half of the lance, the ‘shooters’, were chasing up a possible contact a couple of kilometres away.
“It’s too quiet,†Sergeant Miracle Ilaes muttered from the cupola of the hover tank where she was scanning the surroundings with binoculars. “The Canopians have to have some sort of recon screen out, so where is it?â€
“Hopefully giving some other bugger some trouble,†replied her driver. David Vaaraniemi was from the Terra itself, while Miracle had been born on Sierra – a frontier world almost as far removed from Canopus IV as it was from Terra.
The sergeant shook her head. “Astarte’s the third most important city on Canopus – probably one of the ten largest cities in the entire Magistracy. They can’t possibly have abandoned it, so there should at least be some -†A fast moving shape darting out from the cover of a mound of spoil answered her question. “Evasive!â€
Dirt exploded behind the hovercraft and there was a shout of surprise from the infantry bay as David gunned the engines. The cause of the explosion – a Locust light Battlemech – broke into a sprint towards them.
Miracle tried to keep her binoculars on the ‘Mech. Although she’d identified the ‘Mech from its slim birdlike legs and block torso, there were several clear differences from the LCT-1V models she knew from the 112th. “It’s a Locust, 1E model!†she shouted. That meant rather than one medium laser and a pair of machine guns that it would sport four lasers: two medium and two small. Not as good against infantry but with notably more punch against vehicles such as the two APCs – the second vehicle, commanded by Corporal Sevket was wallowing in their wake.
She flicked a switch, setting her radio to transmit on the platoon frequency. “Lieutenant Halder, this is Sergeant Ilaes. We’ve encountered a lone Canopian Locust and are under fire.
The two arm-mounted lasers on the Locust turned and then the rear of Sevket’s APC blew open, spilling men and equipment across the ground at fatally high speeds. The forward half of the luckless hovertank sagged and one corner dug into the ground, causing the rest to cartwheel wildly before landing upside down.
The Locust raced through the debris, apparently unconcerned that in so doing it squashed two SLDF soldiers flat under one foot. Then again, in all probability neither was still alive anyway.
“Can’t you go any faster!†Miracle shouted. “It’s still in range.â€
David’s voice sounded aggrieved: “We’re doing a hundred and fifty!â€
Miracle looked back. Offhand the Locust, one of the fastest Battlemechs ever developed, topped out at one hundred twenty-nine kilometres an hour under optimum conditions. Nonetheless it seemed to be managing to not only keep up but also gain ground.
There was a crackle over the radio. “Lead it our way,†Lieutenant Halder ordered. “We’re hull down just behind ridge four-oh-seven.â€
“I’ve got an idea!â€
Miracle looked back into the infantry bay and to her shock saw daylight: the rear hatch had been opened. Then there came the distinctive thump of James Hooker’s grenade launcher. The squad’s heavy-weapons trooper pumped another high explosive grenade towards the Locust.
Explosions of earth either side of the APC testified to the difficulty of hitting a target that was moving as fast as the hovercraft, but the Locust was only a hundred metres behind. Hooker’s third grenade scored a hit on the cockpit, visibly scarring the thick canopy. In response the two chin lasers spoke sharply with long, stuttering pulses. The APC lurched and slowed, a near collision averted only when the Locust jerked sharply aside and ran past. Miracle hardly noticed, instead focused on the screams from inside the infantry bay and the splatter of what was obviously blood against the legs of her battledress utilities.
“Get us ouf of here!†she screamed and ducked into infantry bay, gripping handholds as she moved to prevent the less than smooth movements of the hovercraft from sending her crashing around like a pinball. As it she was glad of her helmet when one particular sharp turn at a bad moment bounced her head off the edge of the cupola.
Hooker was on the deck of the bay, and also on three of the walls. He’d taken the brunt of the laser pulses. The grenadier’s loader, Ramirez – another Sierran – was also beyond help. Shards of the rear hatch were buried in his chest and his eyes glazed by death. The screams were coming from Derek Shannon, left leg a mangled wreck.
“Pass the medical kit!†demanded Jane Jericho, who had removed part of her field webbing and was improvising a tourniquet out of the one of the straps.
Although technically in command, Miracle obeyed the instruction, yanking open the box for her subordinate before looking over at the last of the six people in her squad (there should have been seven but the 112th was short-staffed and her squad short-handed.
Private Marion Emiya was lying half-on one of the side benches, face pale. One combat boot was trapped in the tangled remains of the rear of the tank. She managed a wan smile as Miracle looked her over. “Only hurts when I try to get my foot free, Sarge.â€
From the look of the tangle, Marion would be lucky to get her ankle out, much less her foot, but Miracle decided not to dishearten her. “Give me a moment.â€
Outside the door she could see the ground moving past at a frightening speed. She also couldn’t see the Locust. “Vaaraniemi, did you lose him?â€
“I don’t know. I’ve lost visual. We’re thirty seconds from the rest of the lance.â€
“We have multiple wounded.â€
“Understood, sergeant. I’ll get us back to the nearest medical post as soon as I can.â€
Miracle tried not to think too much about the fact that just because David had lost track of the Locust didn’t mean that the ‘Mech had lost track of them. Instead she opened up the toolbox and started looking through it to find something that she could use to pry Marion’s foot out of the wreckage.
Halder’s voice came from her helmet radio. “Just get home, Sergeant. We’ll deal with the ‘Mech.â€
“Watch yourself, its damn fast,†she warned.
“So are we!†she heard Halder say, the roar of hovercraft engines clearly audible through his own microphone. “There he is!â€
The APC jerked sharply to one side.
“He’s on us!†shouted David. “Hold on! I’m -â€
There was a crunch and Miracle was flung bodily across the infantry bay, colliding with Jane. Both women landed on Derek Shannon, who resumed his screaming. The back of the hovercraft tilted upwards and then slammed back down, bouncing the squad around like pinballs as the APC came to rest.
Groaning, and with the suspicion that she one of her ribs might have been broken, Miracle crawled out of the bay and was unsurprised to see a Locust looking down at her, the underslung pulse lasers moving to track her. It was only on her second glance that she saw that this one lacked the scarred canopy from Hooker’s grenade.
“Lieutenant,†she mumbled into her radio. “There are two of them. Two Locusts.â€
There was no reply and Miracle rolled painfully to her knees, raising both hands above her head in surrender.
Crimson, Salonika
Canopus IV, Magistracy of Canopus
22 June 2578
When the SLDF forces moved for the capital, they did so with the ponderous power of an avalanche. Battlemechs and tanks flooded over hills stripped barren by generations of exploitation, quite incidentally destroying the sparse trees and grass that ecologists had laid down to attempt the beginnings of recovery.
The Thirty-First Division was in the lead, its single regiment of BattleMechs acting as a reserve for the brigades of tanks and mechanised infantry that fanned out ahead of the advance. Their objective was to find the defences so that the BattleMechs could force a breach.
At that point, the Thirty-Second Division, packed up behind them, would exploit the breach with a spearhead of a consolidated BattleMech brigade and two supporting brigades built around Gallant and Turhan urban tanks to handle the no doubt fierce streetfighting as they bulled through the city to seize the Crystal Palace and with it, the Magistracy.
With their intentions clear, the Magistracy’s defenders rushed to position themselves in the defence of their capital. Until now the three divisions of the Royal Guards had been scattered to protect each of the three principal cities. Until the Canopian Highlanders could arrive from Astarte or the Cuirassiers from Delphi, that rested the defences of Crimson upon the soldiers of Raventhir’s Iron Hand and of the Thirteenth Militia Brigade.
James Raventhir, scion of the Canopian’s most famous military dynasty, had been entrusted with one of the massive Khan BattleMechs that had only begun to arrive from factories safely in the Trznadel Cluster. Ten tons heavier than any other design used by the MAF’s battlemech forces (in fact, tonnage equal to that of their ‘Corn series battle tanks), the Khan was a battlefield juggernaut but the line it was reinforcing was all too slim.
The young man tried to focus on the voice of Colonel Leona Patrice via the network of landlines that engineers had laid across the lines that the Iron Hand would be defending, and to ignore the sweat that was staining his hands as they gripped the controls.
“We have enemy units idenfitied at a range of only two thousand metres.†The colonel’s voice was cool and unaffected. “We get one chance at a first salvo, don’t anyone waste it.â€
James looked again at the ground ahead of him. His Khan was crouched behind the military crest of the hill, entirely masked until it stood tall and took a few steps to shoot down over the hill and into narrowing valley that the highway to Crimson followed. It was an obvious firing position, but fighters from the militia fighter regiment as well as the remaining naval aerospace squadrons were contesting the clouded sky fiercely so the SLDF could not be sure. No doubt, they moment that they did learn of it, orbital fire would be called for.
Colonel Patrice’s plan therefore called for a more mobile battle, hopefully stalling the enemy vanguard until reinforcements from the Royal Guards could arrive. First Battalion, along with the battle tanks of the Iron Hand’s heavy brigade and the milita artillery would strike from the western hills and Third Battalion, along with the rest of the militia and the light brigade would charge from the eastern hills.
If they failed, then all that stood between the SLDF and Crimson was the Thetis River with its broken bridges and Second Battalion to hopefully break up any crossing.
James looked left and then right. The rest of his lance – a pair of Marauders and a Striker – were lined up to his left. He knew Cole and Avellar (no relation to the Great House of the same name) were both veterans but Lucrezia Shihuin was just out of the Quatre. To his right were the rest of H Company, with Commander Marthe Sloan’s lance of four Balam looking very similar to their Marauder progenitors. Beyond them were the scout lance, mixing Stinger and Phoenix Hawks.
“All green, Lucky?†he asked the novice mechwarrior, surprised his voice wasn’t shaking. When she affirmed readiness James enquired the same of the rest of his lance before switching up to the company net. “Commander Sloan, my lance is fully ready.â€
“Good to know, Ensign. And your lance, Jeraldine?â€
James rolled his eyes. Sloane probably hadn’t even checked her own lance. She and Ensign Jeraldine St Clair were old hands, with plenty of experience, but they were also not notable for spit and polish. While that wasn’t the be all and end all, it did mean that they occasionally came off as sloppy which was why neither was likely to rise above company command.
What was in their favour was that they were good combat officers. The Royal Guards might parade more often than most of the Magistracy Army, but that wasn’t their first duty.
And at least thinking about that had taken his mind off the coming action.
“Range to marker one-twenty is now seven hundred metres,†advised an anonymous voice, followed by Colonel Patrice: “All units, advance and open fire!â€
James brought the Khan upright in the same movement that started it walking up above the line of the hill. He felt the ‘Mech adjusting itself as the neurohelmet took directions from his inner ear, forestalling the possibility of overbalancing. Between that and keeping an eye on his lance it was not until the assault ‘Mech was standing fully exposed that he really took in the SLDF forces ranged ahead of him.
There were dozens of them, many armoured personnel carriers and scout cars forming the recon screen of the oncoming division. Coldly, James brought his crosshairs across a platoon of wheeled personnel carriers. As the crosshairs flashed gold over each, he triggered one extended-range particle cannon and then moved to the next target, firing all four of his weapons in turn. Two shots, the first and third, hit home and the small infantry carriers came to a halt, their guts – and occupants – torn apart by the powerful weapons. Now he was sweating for reasons other than nerves.
“Good shooting, Raven’.â€
James turned and saw that the rest of his lance had let him fire first. That was smart – their PPCs were older, shorter range weapons with no more reach than the autocannons that each of the three BattleMechs sported. Waiting not only let them take their cue from him, it brought the advancing SLDF forces into their own range.
Only one of their PPCs hit home, with Avellar tearing a strip of armour from a hovertank without slowing the machine. Cole turned her autocannon towards the other Marauder pilot’s target and both fired cluster rounds, as if taking offense at the insult of the tank surviving the hit. One of the shots – impossible to tell which – ripped several gaping holes in the side-skirt of the hovertank, sending it slewing into a spin until it came to rest. The crew, probably quite dizzy, did not disembark immediately.
“Take that tank’s turret out, Lucky,†James ordered, implicitly warning the two Marauder jocks to let the newbie take the shot. He moved his crosshairs and fired his PPCs again, this time slamming all four shots towards the same target, a helicopter trying to dart up over the hill to find out what else was lurking there. Unfortunately none of the shots struck.
In the distance James saw the distant dust-clouds marking advancing Merkava and Marsden tanks suddenly gain animation as artillery shells and missiles began to pound their path. The Magistracy Army allocated each brigade a full artillery battalion and Colonel Patrice was making full use of having effectively a regiment of self-propelled artillery at her disposal.
Hig above the battle, contrails and explosions marked where the battle for the sky was raging.
A squadron of Tomahawk aerospace fighters were chasing down their own number of Tseen She. The Canopian strike fighters weren’t tough enough to take that sort of pounding and two of them came apart almost immediately under the lasers of the SLDF fighters.
Savitri Centrella didn’t like seeing her pilots cut out of the sky. In fact she took it very much personally. Fortunately she was in a position to do something about it and with a terse order to the squadron supporting her, she yanked back on her control stick and jammed the throttle of her new Grondr wide open.
The Magestrix had traded in her Lightning for the newer design as soon as it became available. It was bigger, faster and more heavily armed than anything she’d ever flown. And except for the squadron following her, almost all of them had been destroyed in the last few days. Fortunately the factories were a safe distance away and more would be coming.
Centring her crosshairs over a Tomahawk, Savitri triggered her missile launchers. There were three of them, and all had managed to lock onto the medium fighter so forty-five fire-and-forget missiles leapt from the racks and smashed into the underside of the smaller fighter. Then a second volley, this one from Savitri’s wingman did the same. The Tomahawk, trailing smoke, broke off and the Magestrix let it go, blasting up past the altitude of the SLDF fighter’s wingman and then cutting thrust briefly, kicking the rudder to make a controlled tumble as she did in order to bring herself around to drop down upon the other Tomahawk.
This one managed to twist aside and avoid missile lock from Savitri’s wingman but the Magestrix was another matter, stripping almost half a ton of armour off one wing with her lasers and then slamming another volley of missiles into it. Explosions tore through the left flank of the Tomahawk and it went into a spiralling descent, the pilot ejecting when it became clear that there was no saving the machine.
Glancing around the radar Savitri saw no other nearby threats to the Tseen She squadron and plunged her Grondr down towards the deck, the other fighters following her like a flock of birds. “Blackwing to squadron: damage?†she enquired.
“None.â€
“None.â€
“Light armour damage. One missile launcher out.â€
“None.â€
“None.â€
She nodded her head slightly inside the cockpit and debated for a second whether to send the damaged Grondr back to Crimson for repairs. No, she decided. Never give an order that won’t be obeyed: none of her squadron would retreat unless she personally did so as well. “Fine. Stay with me, we’re going to give the Tseen She cover.
The five surviving conventional fighters had regrouped and were returning to their mission. Within moments each of the militia fighters had an escorting aerospace fighter, Savitri and her wingman doubling up to cover one of them.
Beneath the fighters, SLDF forces were battering at Raventhir’s Iron Hand. The defenders had already thrown in their reserves to counter the Thirty-First Division’s BattleMechs and they were holding, for now. The five Tseen She dove across the lines of an SLDF ‘Mech company, strafing the ranks with their lasers. Behind them, the Grondr – less suited to this tactic – focused instead on the helicopters that had been scouting for the little force. Neither stood any chance at all against the sudden volleys of missiles that swatted them easily out of the sky.
As they flew past, Savitri could see that only one of the SLDF ‘Mechs had fallen, but all bore scarred armour from the attacks, They’d be weaker and more vulnerable when they encountered Canopian forces, which was good enough for now.
The attack had not been without its price for the aircraft however. Laser fire from Helepolis and Kyudo ‘Mechs had slashed deeply into the Tseen She, two of which were trailing ominous smoke.
“This is Blackwing to the militia fighters,†the Magestrix ordered, knowing that the militia would have recognised the solid black paint that covered the left wing of her Grondr. While her squadron all adopted the same paintjob in an attempt to mask her precise location, everyone in the CNR knew that the Magestrix had flown with those markings since the Battle of Borgan’s Rift. Some said it was in mourning for the Canopians killed under her command, while others identified it as a kill marker for the Death Commandos who died when the Magestrix’s wings targeted their dropships with nuclear warheads. “Break off for repairs, we’ll escort you back.â€
The ‘air-breathers’ obediently scurried back in the direction of their support forces with a quiet: “Many thanks, Blackwing.†Rather than operating out of a fixed air-field that would be a relatively easy target for orbital bombardment the militia were instead using their craft’s VTOL capacity to hide the fighters in relatively small paved areas of Crimson, repairs carried out by the same convoys that refuelled and reloaded them.
For now the aerospace fighters, with their far more demanding logistics were using the underground defense hangers. Savitri was aware that it was a luxury that could not last: sooner or later the SLDF would locate all of the entrances. The two that had been discovered so far had been subjected to orbital bombardments that had effectively closed them for use, in one case with a mixed squadron of Reivers and Thunderbirds inside. Those fighters were as much out of the fight as if they had been destroyed: it would take days to dig them out and any attempt would be painfully obvious.
Crimson, Salonika
Canopus IV, Magistracy of Canopus
23 June 2578
James drained the last dregs from the bottled energy drink. The liquid was the first refreshment he’d had in hours. Despite the arrival of the Cuirassiers and the Highlanders on the SLDF’s flanks they were continuing to advance and the battered Iron Hand regiments were having trouble even slowing them down, much less stopping them.
At midnight the Mechs and tanks of the Thirty-First Division had paused, clearly exhausted. However, they had done so not only to rest but also to let the relatively fresh Thirty-Second Division through their ranks.
More then three hundred battlemechs was more – far more - than the weary Raventhir’s Iron Hand could stop, especially since their artillery – ammunition expended – had been in mid-retreat to a supply point.
“Army Command, this is Captain Raventhir,†he reported. “I have a mixed battlegroup south of Hill Seventy-Five. Can you give me a vector back to the rest of the regiment.â€
For a long moment there was nothing but the snap and hiss of static.
Finally: “Captain Raventhir, can you confirm that you are at Hill Seventy-Five, not Seventeen-Five?â€
James’s face reddened. Seventeen-Five was a hill more or less between Crimson and the bridges over the Thetis River – probably where the rest of the defense forces were rallying. Seventy-Five was considerably to the east. Faced with a full battalion of Star League Banshee, Thunderbolts and Guillotines, he’d broken contact to rally the remnants of his force: less than a company of survivors from Third Battalion, together with fewer than twenty Pegasus hovertanks from the militia and a company of Minotaur medium tanks from one of the Iron Hand tank regiments.
“Yes,†he confirmed tightly. “Seven-Five.â€
“Wait one, Captain.â€
Infuriated at the implied slight: that he had run away from the fight, rather than rejoining the next defense line, James closed his microphone and swore out loud.
“James,†a different voice said over the channel. A woman, voice familiar to him. Familiar to essentially any Canopian.
He switched the microphone on. “Yes, Magestrix.â€
“Glad you’re holding on, cousin,†she said warmly. “Even more so that you’re right where I need someone. I have a mission for you.â€
“Your highness, I’ll do what I can but my troops are short of ammo and rest.â€
He could imagine her nodding. “Understood. We’re going to try to send you ammo, but rest will have to wait. The Star League has built a pontoon bridge across the Thetis to move their tanks and supporting equipment over the river.â€
“You want me to destroy it?†Why not an air strike, he wondered.
“Nothing so easy. The Cuirassiers and the Highlanders can ford the river with their ‘Mechs but most of their infantry and tanks will need a bridge and we demolished the others trying to slow the SLDF down. I need those forces to finish the SLDF before they can reach the centre of Crimson. I need that bridge intact.â€
“Sir, one ortillery shot...â€
“I’m ordering our warships to give you cover. It won’t last long but hopefully long enough.†Unspoken was that the remaining warships would be badly outnumbered.
In the end an airdrop wasn’t possible but a handful of hovertrucks raced out from a nearby militia depot, carrying pallets of long and short range missiles. What little autocannon ammunition remained would need to be husbanded carefully.
The only other survivor of James’ lance ran behind him as the force ran down the road towards the location of the bridge. Lucrezia ‘Lucky’ Shihuin had lived up to her nickname. The Striker’s autocannon was out of action but she still had her lasers and PPC. Even more fortunately she’d forgotten to dump her ammunition bin so their half-empty contents had been loaded quickly into the magazines of the other Striker and the force’s one Marauder.
“All units,†James reminded them. “We have to take the bridge intact – so when we charge feel free to shout about destroying the bridge on your loudspeakers. Maybe they’ll be gullible enough to ‘protect’ it from us.â€
He looked around one last time. They were ready. “Alright, let’s do this.†The force took their speed from him but that was only really holding back the Pegasus hovertanks and they would be unleashed soon enough. That didn’t mean that he was delaying and the force that was spread out in a loose wedge behind his Khan were moving at more than fifty kilometres an hour when they crested the hill above the bridge.
“Cavalry!†James shouted, distantly noting contrails in the sky above him: “Charge!â€
Seventeen Pegasus hovertanks roared past him, aiming for the riverbank: their mission was to take control of the opposite bank. The near bank and the scratch battalion that must be all that was left of Thirty-First Division’s BattleMech forces, were James’ problem to deal with.
Miles behind him, tens of thousands of Canopian citizens filed through their local police stations and other official buildings accepting laser rifles, spare power packs and the armband that – in theory – made them uniformed combatants under the Ares Conventions. They too could see the contrails rising.
In theory all Canopians did military service in their teens but most provided their national service in non-combatant roles. Basic self-defense, which in the periphery included the use of a rifle, was universal however. There had been no official recall: just an announcement that volunteers would be welcomed.
The Support Corps personnel handing out the weapons tried not to think too hard about the results of the SLDF’s vengeful troopers fighting their way deep enough into Crimson that armed civilians were needed.
The contrails were the remaining Canopian aerospace squadrons making for the orbitals. Savitri and the other three surviving Blackwings were near the middle of the little formation, their Grondr straining to reach escape velocity, burdened as each they were with a pair of five kiloton nuclear weapons.
Unity City, North America
Terra, Terran Hegemony
24 June 2578
Air defences were alerted as soon as the first radar signatures indicating that wings of aerospace fighters were making their descent upon the Pacific North-west.
Ground stations hurled missiles upwards while discreet turrets around the Court of the Star League brought autocannon up to cover the skies and lances of the garrison sallied forth from their underground hangers to provide a last layer of defence: Rifleman and Archer BattleMechs. While fire blazed filled the sky, Nicholas Cameron marched his lance to cover the seaward approaches: reports from the radar stations suggested that the formations of fighters were descending over the Pacific and would presumably be making a low approach on the Court from that direction.
“How many are coming in at us, sir?†asked Sergeant Hernandez, correctly presuming that Nicholas would be well informed.
The young Cameron ran his targeting systems across the horizon. “Depends how many the fixed defences bring down. The estimate was five aero-regiments – perhaps three hundred – entering the atmosphere. Our own fighters will need as much support as we can give them.†He didn’t bother to point out that there were only a battalion of BattleMechs to protect the Court of the Star League. A conflict between aerospace fighters and a ground fortress was always unpredictable.
A crackle of jamming interrupted the tactical net for a moment. A few moments later, the familiar voice of the defense co-ordinator came across. “Our communications may lapse, soldiers. Enemy fighters have been engaged well short of the shore but it’s estimated that there may be as many as eighty enemy fighters operating below the level of radar coverage. Be on guard.â€
“Eighty!?†Hernandez exclaimed. “Well it’s better than three hundred!â€
“Don’t think of it as eighty hostiles, think of it as eighty targets,†suggested Nicholas with dark humour. He opened the covers on his Archer’s missile launchers, glad of the advanced heatsinks that the ‘Mechs of the defense battalion had been refitted with. Where most battlemechs of this class would occasionally need to cut back their rate of fire to cool down, the SLDF’s new models could sustain their full firepower as long as their ammunition lasted. Of course that would mean that they would run through that ammunition faster. “Defence command, this is Franklin Lead. Please advise as to the nearest resupply point.â€
“Understood Franklin Lead. There are crews mov- ... –hatch four-t ... alpha ...â€
Nicholas tapped his helmet. “Come back, Defence Command?â€
There was no reply but the whine and spit of static. Jamming again! He switched to use his loudspeakers. “Someone’s close enough to jam our radios. Report any sightings immediately.â€
There were similar shouts from other officers resorting to the same means and Nicholas brought his Archer down behind one of the sturdily built buildings above the beaches, not caring that one foot crushed the rear of a car that had been left parked there.
A call went up and he looked to see a Rifleman bringing its arms up to point out to sea. Tracers rippled outwards and following them Nicholas saw the enemy.
They were low enough that their wake was visible in the water.
Lightning lashed back from the oncoming fighters towards the shoreline and the Rifleman reeled backwards, armour erupting away from the heavy BattleMech’s chest.
Nicholas locked his crosshairs over one of the oncoming fighters and fired everything. The lasers in each arm of his Archer lashed out and he thought he saw parts of the fuselage deforming under hits. Then all forty of the long range missiles from his salvo rushed past his sight picture and enough hit that he briefly lost visual contact before the fighter continued, clearly damaged but undeterred.
“They’re going to overshoot!†he called out, turning his Archer around. “Catch them on the way out!â€
Then on the compressed display that ran along the top of his cockpit HUD – a three hundred and sixty degree view compressed into only one hundred and sixty – he saw the fighter and it’s brethren appear to come apart in mid-air. Engine pods cut out and then dropped down, almost like... legs? Was this intentional?
All doubt fell away as the engines roared to life again and the fighters came almost to a complete stop, their distorted – almost vulture-like – shapes descending over the beach. And the defenders, having turned around in expectation of firing at the vulnerable rear of the the aerospace fighters had instead exposed their own backs to the enemy.
Outnumbered two to one, with the Land-Air Mechs of the Filtvet Commonwealth Marine Corps concentrating on the notoriously thin-armoured Rifleman, the defense battalion lost a dozen casualties in as many seconds.
“Fallback into the city!†ordered Major Siembieda a moment before his ammunition, stored against his Rifleman’s reactor, detonated – spreading parts of both ‘Mech and Major across the beach.
Nicholas turned his Archer to follow the order but Hernandez’s ‘Mech thrust out one arm, pushing him in another direction. “Not that way sir. You’re heading for the supply point – hatch four-two alpha. It’s the fastest way to get you under cover.â€
“Goddamn you Hernandez, I’m an officer of the SLDF!â€
“No sir. You’re the Director-General’s heir and there isn’t a man here who doesn’t have orders for what to do if the fight went against us today.â€
Crimson, Salonika
Canopus IV, Magistracy of Canopus
24 June 2578
The particle cannon punched through the damaged SLDF Kyudo’s fusion reactor dead centre. A moment later silver fire engulfed the ‘Mech and James backed his Khan up another pace, turning his head to look for another target.
The PPC in his ‘Mech’s right arm was its only remaining weapon and the armour beneath the many rents in his armour was stained with the coolant fluid that had leaked out like blood. A Warhammer drew his attention to it by blasting the last armour covering the weapon with its own PPCs.
Much to James’ surprise the weapon status remained green and he fired a second time. The shot shattered the smaller ‘Mech’s right shoulder, dropping the arm below to the ground as well as melting half the missile launcher that rose up from the joint.
Without hesitating, the Warhammer raised its other arm, pointing the muzzle of the Donal PPC directly at the scarred faceplate covering James’ cockpit.
The young Raventhir started in squarely into the darkness inside, wondering if he was imagining the glow. I guess it’s my turn now, he thought.
Then more than ninety tons of aerospace fighter hit the Warhammer like a bulldozer. The blunt wedge cut the heavy ‘Mech virtually in two and then whatever dregs of fuel remained within the Grondr’s tanks exploded. James watched numbly as one black wing spun up into the sky and then crashed down to the torn up ground beside him.
Only then did he look up and see the parachute unfurling in the sky above him and off to his right. The pilot must have ejected after setting up a collision course he realised.
A series of explosions ripped through the SLDF forces and James glanced around to see a lance of Bicorns crawling over the bridge, which was rocking alarmingly from the recoil as the main guns hurled two hundred kilogram shells up the slope. Behind them, he could see more heavy tanks lining up to risk the pontoons: the heavy tank regiments had arrived at last. A second bridge - this one of cannon shells, gauss rifle slugs and the heavy missiles being fired across the river. They weren’t hitting much – the range was too long for accurate fire – but they were an eloquent promise of what the SLDF could expect once they had crossed.
The disintegtration of a Merkava that was unfortunate enough to be caught between the impact of two of the cutdown artillery shells being thrown by the Bicorns apparently wasn’t a hint to back off. Then again, it was also showing them what they were trying to keep from crossing the river so it wasn’t too surprising that instead they pressed forwards in a desperate attempt to break down the bridge.
James estimated the point where the ejected pilot would land and moved forward to shield them from the attack. His little force was perhaps half the size that it had been and few of the survivors were in better shape than his Khan. His PPC tore the arm off a Phoenix Hawk and he slammed into the smaller ‘Mech a moment later, the impact sending it to the ground. Without pause James trampled over it, driving one foot directly through its shoulder to destroy its remaining arm.
He had misjudged slightly the point to which the parachute was descending – perhaps the wind had moved. The pilot landed briefly upon the arm of his Khan, then slipped off, her parachute flaring slightly, slowing the landing to a survivable one.
Behind him the Bicorns were rumbling off the bridge – pockmarked with damage as it was the SLDF had built it well enough to handle their weight – too well for their own good.
James crouched the Khan over the pilot. “Are you hurt?†he asked over his loudspeakers.
The woman stretched out each limb in turn, then shook her helmeted head and glanced around. She adjusted her helmet.
“Don’t tell me that it is you, James Raventhir?†she asked, her voice coming from his radio. “Really, I half-expected you to be dead by now.â€
“I’m sorry to disappoint you, your highness.â€
“Oh, don’t confuse expectations with desires. I’m rather afraid most of those who’ve fought with me today have not been so fortunate.†There was a darkness in the voice of Savitri Centrella. “I guess you must be a bad penny, just like me.â€
“And above us?â€
“Don’t concern yourself. The worst you need concern yourself with is the chance that fragments of their ships may land on our heads.†She looked around. “Please let me into your cockpit, I need to use your radio to get in touch with my Command Center.â€
James lowered one arm, opening the manipulator so that she could stand upon in. From the stiffness of Savitri’s movements he guessed that her earlier assertion that she was uninjured had been overly optimistic – if nothing else she must have taken quite a bruising during her ejection. Even so, when he raised the manipulator up to his cockpit she scrambled easily enough in behind him.
Not a mechwarrior, it took a moment for the Magestrix to unfold the jumpseat behind James’ command couch and locate the headset. Then she adjusted the communications panel. “General Tellaverde. This is Magestrix Savitri Centrella. Authenticate my voice print.â€
There was a brief pause. “I’m ready to do so.â€
“Power is a drug. Its addiction is the cause of all evils.â€
James heard relief in the voice of the commander of the Royal Guards. “There was concern that you might have...â€
“Too many have already. It’s possible that I’m the only survivor of the entire battle above us. What is the situation down here?â€
“The Highlanders and Cuirassiers are squeezing them like toothpaste, your highness. But that’s pressing them against the Iron Hand and that’s...â€
“Yes. It’s possible to ask too much. But we have one more strategm to try: it’s drastic and radical but let’s try talking to them. Can you retransmit my signal on all channels?â€
“Of course. You might even think that we’re in the media capital of known space. We’ll have you going out to everyone in two minutes.â€
Savitri’s smile spread at the joke. “Then let’s do so. Because I have something to say.â€
“What are you going to tell them?†James asked.
“Well... I thought I’d start with the truth. It has a certain novelty.â€
“Soldiers of the Star League.â€
“You are surrounded on all sides.â€
“On this scarred ground stand the armies and the militia of Canopus.â€
“Above you, the skies have been scoured of your comrades.
“Beneath your very feet the rich world of Canopus rejects your presence.â€
“And in the hearts of mankind your cause stands ruined for as we speak the fleets and legions of the periphery have brought our rejection to Terra itself.â€
“In recognition of your defeat, I, Savitri Centralla: pilot, mother, leader, offer you this day the chance to surrender with honour. To return to your homes without further sacrifice. To lower your weapons and march from Canopus beneath your own banners as proud soldiers who have accomplished all that could possibly have been done in the impossible quest that you were sent out upon.â€
“But if you feel that you cannot or will not accept it then I shall remind you of wisdom six hundred and seventy seven years old:â€
“That the Woman that God gave him
Every fibre of her frame
Proves her launched for one sole issue
Armed and engine for the same
And to serve that sole issue
Lest the generations fail
The female of the species
Must be deadlier than the maleâ€
Unity City, North America
Terra, Terran Hegemony
24 June 2578
“Look at my city, in flames.†Ian Cameron’s face was hollow as he watched the view from the surviving cameras above. Never in his worst nightmares had he expected to see SLDF Archers being brought down by Periphery Battlemechs on the streets of Unity City.
A general touched his shoulder. “Sir, we have reports that your son is back under cover. I recommend he be sent to the escape submarine. We can have you all at the Bering Tunnel in twenty-four hours and in Geneva the day after.â€
Ian hesitated and then nodded. “Agreed. Shandra...â€
“Don’t even think about some kind of noble gesture,†she warned him. “The Hegemony needs your leadership.â€
After I’ve done so well by them? Ian thought darkly but instead he nodded his head. “I need a few things from my personal safe. I suggest that you collect anything you want to bring with you.â€
The hatch moved slowly due to damage done to the frame, but Ian Cameron was able to force it open with his shoulder. He was aware that it would be only moments before his security caught up with him – Shandra would have realised by now that he was not in his own room within the deep bunker complex, nor on his way to the escape submarine waiting in its dock to carry him away under the Pacific.
According to his recollection, the hatch should have opened into the backwall of one of the many public conveniences that discreetly dotted the ornamental gardens. Like most such buildings the windows were small and high on the wall, but daylight flooded across him as he exited. The western half of the room was simply gone and the First Lord of the Star League looked out at the panoramic ruin that he’d intended to be the capital city of the entire human race.
Surprisingly few of the buildings were in flames, but other than the damage caused by the brief battle between the periphery landing force most of the destruction had been systematic as the ‘flying battlemechs’ that had landed were deliberately smashing down buildings with their fists. Ian still didn’t know what to call the machines. What sort of twisted mind would create a hybrid of aerospace fighter and battlemech?
Fortunately for his peace of mind he could see no bodies, although the wreckage of at least two SLDF battlemechs made it clear that the brief battle for control of the Court of the Star League had not been entirely bloodless.
Gathering his resolve and fuelled in part by anger at the deliberate vandalism, Ian walked out into full view of the ‘Mechs that were tearing at the city – his city! – like a pack of carrion birds.
At first, it seemed that none had seen him. And certainly a lone man in dress uniform would hardly seem like a threat to them. Nonetheless one of them broke off from tearing down one of the Bureau of Star League Affairs buildings and bounded across two hundred metres of part towards him in a single easy flare of jump jets. In mid-air the machine twisted and turned upon itself like a child’s toy and what landed was not the bird-like shape that had taken off but a more humanoid BattleMech that looked fairly similar to a Phoenix Hawk.
He was fairly sure that one of the muzzles aimed almost-but-not-quite at him must be an anti-personnel weapon of some kind – a laser rather than a machinegun, which was vaguely interesting but not exactly pertinent to his immediate concerns.
Ian looked around again and then raised both hands slowly above his head.
“I am Director-General of the Terran Hegemony,†he called out, speaking slowly and clearly. He had to choke down a sob before he could manage the next words. “I am here to surrender. Take me to your leader.â€
TCS Samantha Calderon, Orbit
Terra, Terran Hegemony
25 June 2578
After a shuttle – Canopian-built - had rushed down to Unity City to take custody of him, Ian Cameron had been surprised to find himself mostly left alone. He’d been ushered into a guarded VIP room aboard the battleship – a room that had nothing more than privacy to recommend it – and been permitted to call on a steward although a squad of marines were posted in easy reach of his door.
For a while he’d waited, pacing back and forth the across the cramped compartment, expecting to be called before an admiral or a diplomatic team. When it became evident that this was not evident he had removed his shoes and tried to nap.
Sleep eluded him. Had Nicholas and Shandra reached the submarine safely? Were the Taurians and their allies landing elsewhere on Terra?
By Ian’s watch it had been thirteen hours since his arrival when the door opened to reveal a young man in the dress uniform of an AFFS junior officer. “Director-General Cameron, please accompany me.â€
A sharp look from Ian matched the officer’s features to the distorted face he’d seen through a helmet visor during the hour he was watched over by his captors on the grond. “You’re the one who I surrendered to.â€
“Yes sir. You’re in my custody, technically, for a few more minutes.†The man gestured towards the door. “Now if you would please.â€
It was not a question or an invitation, but at least it was being phrased as one rather than as a demand. Ian complied and was ushered down a hallway and up a cramped flight of stairs – the ship was not under thrust at the moment, making it a relatively easy ascent – to a compartment little larger than that he had left. Rather than a small bunk and desk, this one had a table surrounded by fixed benches. Two men and two women sat on one side, Ian was ushered to the other.
“Sir, I present to you Director General Ian Cameron of the Terran Hegemony.â€
“Thank you, lieutenant,†replied the taller of the men – a lanky Federated Suns officer with swarthy mediterranean features. No, not Federated Suns – the sword on his insignia was backed by a star field rather than the sunburst. This then, was the officer representing the Suns’ bastard offspring, Filtvet. “I accept responsibility for him.â€
The other three ran the gamut of appearances – two Taurian Admirals, the man red-faced and middle-aged but with a look of command, the woman petite with a dramatic red tattoo around her eyes; and the last woman in Canopian blues and evidently crammed in behind the table with some difficulty – Ian estimated her to be the tallest person there and none of the men were small.
“Director-General,†the Filtvet officer began the introductions. “I am Admiral Jeffrey B. Global, the Arch-Duchess’ Champion. This is Admiral of the Fleet Garius Cain and Admiral Rukia Fukuda of the Taurian Concordat Navy and this is Admiral Stephanie Carringtion of the Royal Canopian Navy.â€
“Canopian Navy Royal,†Carrington corrected with the air of someone who didn’t really expect the reminder to accomplish anything.
“Yes. The Canopian Royal Navy. My apologies.â€
Carrington glared at Global who appeared quite ignorant of the fact he’d mangled the name of her service for a second time. “Let’s be about this.â€
Cain leant forwards over the table, locking his eyes onto Ian. “We are authorised to represent our governments in preliminary discussion of terms for your surrender. Ambassadors from all the Periphery states will be here within weeks to finalise them.â€
“I understand.â€
“You offered surrender to Lieutenant Sopwith. Did you speak for your own person or for the Hegemony.â€
“I spoke then for myself and will now speak for the Terran Hegemony.â€
“Very well. The Taurian Concordat offers the Terran Hegemony the opportunity to surrender conditionally. The terms we offer are that the Terran Hegemony will renounce in general and in detail the Star League and all organisations and treaties associated with the Star League. The Hegemony will also pay reparations to the Federated Suns for the economic attacks launched upon them between 2555 and 2567. The Terran Hegemony will cede all rights to those worlds currently shared with the Federated Suns to First Prince Alexander Davion and to those worlds currently shared with the Capellan Confederation to Chancellor Ursula Liao. The Terran Hegemony Armed Forces, as reconstituted following the dissolution of the Star League Defense Force may not exceed one million armed soldiers nor one hundred megatons of shipping. The Taurian Concordat will be granted basing rights within the Terran Hegemony for the next ninety-nine years as guarantor of your security and of your adherence to these terms.â€
Ian looked Cain in the eye. “I refuse.â€
“Director-General, you do not have the luxury of clinging to the Star League.â€
Carrington cleared her throat. “What conditions are you offering to surrender under, Director-General?†Then she held up one hand. “And if you’re planning on bargaining due to the fleet you sent to attack Canopus IV, we’re aware of it and at last report they were heavily engaged with the defences. No order you give now will change the outcome and we can reinforce far more rapidly than you can.â€
“Nonetheless,†Ian began, trying not to let his disappointment show. “The terms that you’re asking for are unacceptable. Without the Star League the Hegemony will be surrounded by hostile states, including your allies the Federated Suns. It’s all very well to promise that you’ll come to our defence but the Hegemony is a long way from the Concordat and a long way down your line of priorities.â€
“Our word is good,†Cain declared, red-faced.
The Director-General shook his head. “I will renounce the Star League – the grand experiment has failed, I admit that – and surrender the shared worlds. You can have the basing rights as well – I’m not so naive as to believe that you’ll trust us immediately. But if we can’t rebuild our defences then you might as well start carving up the Hegemony now.â€
“Sounds good to me, let’s do that.â€
Global coughed. “I think there’s some room for negotiation, Admiral Cain. Do you not agree, Admiral Carringon?â€
“I do. And I think we can speak confidently here for the rest of the Periphery states.â€
Rukia Fukuda cleared her throat. “Admiral, let’s not get ahead of ourselves. This is just a preliminary discussion.â€
Cain scowled furiously. “Perhaps you’re right. We’ll let the diplomats discuss this.†He rose to his feet. “I’ll let the three of you deal with it until they get here.â€
As he was sitting at the far end of the table, the other officers had to stand up to let him leave – in fact Carrington actually had to step into the gangway to make space.
“Admiral Cain is perhaps not temprementally suited to negotiating,†Admiral Fukuda offered in excuse once they had resumed their seats. “Perhaps you would consider a limit if your neighbours also agreed to one?â€
Ian steepled his fingers. “A higher limit perhaps.â€