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Within the Hanseatic League, there had long been stories of lost Star League bases. From its original foundation, the inner circle of the ruling council had zealously guarded the sacred logs of their Star League forefathers. In them, were detailed accounts of the wonders of satellite defence systems, caches and machinery. The avarice of this mercantile league, and its position of force within the Deep Periphery had driven its steady expansion.

On the capital world of Bremen, an order of state-funded scholars and technicians reverentially maintained records of recognition codes, equipment specifications and three receiving devices. These machines were monitored continuously, and it was one of these which had caught the computer-generated message.

Quickly, a combined force of Regional Defence and Convoy Protection was put together; an unheard of undertaking, which consisted of a brigade-size unit of BattleMechs and Combat Vehicles, plus Marines, Aerospace Assets, Assault Dropships and Jumpships. This was too great a prize to be taken unawares. Captain General De La Cruz was given overall command and was charged with success at all costs.

Once the area and technology had been secured, merchant vessels would follow to carry back the technology and perhaps seed the new world with colonists. It had been a good plan, but had been doomed to failure from the beginning. One of the Leagues fundamental premises had been flawed; they were not the only ones to know of the signal.

*

Kael Pershaw had not expected to be the last to arrive, nor that his welcoming committee would be so large and hostile. Even with his warship and all of its assets, he could see that they were outmatched. If they could get down onto the ground, he was sure of victory, but the fact that one of the drone warships and its complement of fighters was heading directly for him, had not escaped his notice.

He gave the order to launch his own fighters and to prepare for battle. His only hope was that the second ship and the Hanseatic League assets did not join the fight. Pragmatically, he knew that he either had to control or destroy this old Star League base. If it became necessary, he would withdraw and bring back allies, although that was not his first choice.
Pershaw bared his teeth in a feral grin as the anticipation of battle coursed through him. No-one had answered his batchall and so he was not limited by restricted resources. Perhaps, he would not need any help after all.

*

Hans fired his jets, leaping back away from the laser round. This was getting just a little hot. Two of his men were down, their suits trying their best to maintain the broken bodies within. One of the Chevalier tanks was stationary; three of its wheels had been shredded away and its turret whirred in frustration as it tried to hit one of the rapidly moving Elementals. The other two tanks were still aggressively trying to erase the rest of his unit. It was then he heard more growling echoing from the underground tunnel and Hans knew they were in trouble.

He watched first one and then another of the beasts emerged. They were slow and stately, yet deadly in their intent. These machines were slightly different, blisters of strange shapes clung to their sides and the lead tank had an unsightly protuberance perched high on its turret. Knowing it was less than useless, but determined to take at least one of these machines with him, Hand sighted on the turret itself, awaiting the familiar sound of his last missile locking on target. Just as he was about to fire, he heard a familiar voice.

“I really would not do that, if I was you.”

“Elias!” shouted Hans, as the blisters unfurled to reveal the crouching forms of Arn and his men, “You took your time.”

“We had one or two minor setbacks,” replied the Tech cheerfully. Hans could hear mutterings from Arn, something about “minor, my frakking backside!” and then he gladly watched the initial tanks power down.

“So, we do not need to blow this up?”

“No,” Elias said, “I am afraid we could not, even if we wanted to. A rather sophisticated defence system, if I might say.”

“Was it worth the pain and effort?” Hans asked, indicating his downed men.

“Definitely,” Elias said, now very serious, “and you need to get Lieutenant Jax here at once. This place is enormous and I have only just started cataloguing it. Just let me say that these tanks are the least of what I have found.”

*

Arn liked the tanks. Now that he had accepted that they were no longer demon beasts, he thrilled to the idea of riding in one. Elias had told him that normally, these machines were designed to be piloted by humans.

The Tech’s descriptions of what they could do had been hard to understand, but the thought of commanding one had filled him with a childish glee. When Elias had talked about the difference between these and BattleMechs, Arn and Conn had scoffed. Machines as tall as a palace, which made the Elementals look like babies. Very hard to believe.

He heard Elias talking to the Leftenant and Jax’s command that they wait where they were for his arrival. Arn patted the machine on its armoured flank affectionately and moved off to help with the recovery of Hans’ men and to set up an initial perimeter. That was a least something he knew how to do and if Elias was right, would become increasingly necessary as it appeared that they could expect unwelcome visitors shortly.

*

Elana had returned to the training camp under instructions from Jax to accelerate the pace of graduation. She knew that if the enemy forces reached the planet her group of recruits were poorly armed, both mentally and technologically, to resist. It was her job to somehow even the odds.

Her first instruction was that all of the recent graduations were recalled. Imperial soldiers, still awaiting induction, would need to take up their old duties for now. They would be given crash courses in the use of the new rifles being issued, but there was not enough time to complete their training.

Two classes were ready for their passing out and this she brought forward. There were another two groups halfway through their training, but now they would need to finish their education on the job. She sent the shuttle for all of the spare autorifles and ammunition available and called her training cadre together. Improvisation would be the name of the game and it was something she had learnt from a master.

*

Jax’s shuttle landed on an open space in front of two of the tanks. Their menacing shapes gave him a slight fright as the turrets tracked his descent, but Elias assured him that they were on standby and that his pilot had transmitted the correct identification signal. No longer did the old Star League code work, rather now that of Elias’ own invention; a particularly Dark Falcon recognition.

The Tech himself was waiting for Jax as he stepped out of the shuttle. Grouped with him, as though forming a guard of honour, were Hans, Arn and their men. Brief formalities over, Elias led him down into the complex.

Muted light aided their passage and the tramp of booted feet gave Jax a comforting feeling. They passed through damaged corridors, this time directly crossing the large cavernous space where Arn and his men had met the first tank, and finally reached the control centre. It was bright in contrast to the rest of the areas that they had passed, although this too showed the residual effect of the Dark Falcons’ passage.

Elias led him to one of the central control panel and bade him sit in one of the less damaged seats.

“What can you tell me that can be of some help to us?” Jax asked.

“I can do better than that,” said the excited Tech, flicking switches and coalescing a holo-image, “I can show you...”

*

Caspar Drones are fast. Very fast. SLN gunners had problems following them while they conducted slashing attacks. Two Caspars should be able to make a mess of things.

Here's hoping!

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The Dark Falcon jumpship was a hive of activity. Jax’s orders had been clear; all available personnel were to be ferried down to the planet immediately. The remaining shuttle and the dropship were crammed with personnel. A relative skeleton crew remained on board with strict instructions to evacuate via the barely serviceable destroyer if required. Star Commander Binetti and his pilots were already circling protectively around their parent vessel, waiting for the dropship to detach.

Although jump capable, the ex-FedCom vessel had still not been fully repaired and Jax had decided that protecting such a damaged asset was in the long-run futile. There were valuable people on board, who could bolster the defence of the complex planetside. It was also a tempting target for the Clan and Hanseatic Forces. No doubt, their thought being that they could effectively strand their enemies on this world. Thankfully, Jax already knew and had accepted that reality.

As the dropship blasted clear, Elias sent a command to the Caspar M-5, from which two wings of attack drones peeled away. Their enhanced battle computers had received new orders; escort duty first and then protection of the defence complex. Time was running away from Elias and his men and insufficient drones would be available for air cover.

Binetti stared angrily at his tactical screen, which showed the approaching fighters and dropships, which were closing rapidly. His first reaction was to fight, but he was also a good soldier. His time would come.

*

De La Cruz noticed the dropship’s rapid flight and the squadron of supporting fighters. First things first though, he needed to clear a path to the planet. His intention was to engage the warship in front of him, with the majority of his armament, leaving the way clear for his own dropships to make planetfall. Armour and Marines were already on board. Their job was to establish a beachhead for the following BattleMechs.

It was clear in the Captain-General’s mind that the FedCom usurpers had arrived early, but also that they could not be much more than an exploration force. He would make sure that their jumpship was removed as a strategic threat. They could not be allowed to send for reinforcements. Once established, he felt that his combined force would be more than a match for the threat of the Clans. Especially once he had re-established control over the Star League Technology.

So, it was with unbridled glee he watched the icons on his tactical screen show first contact with the drone fighter screen, and he ordered the rest of his fleet to full speed.

*

Although non-sentient, the Caspar M-5 warship was sophisticated. Its internal processes drew from centuries of warfare; historical data on tactics, tried and proven responses and possessed lightening fast speed. Aside from this, it was still a machine, bereft of emotion and illogical leaps of faith; it was predictable.

De La Cruz watched its attack drones from into tight clumps, ready to meet his onrushing fighters. He knew, what the mechanised brain did not; no plan survived first contact, and he grinned inanely as the wings of League craft split suddenly into twos and threes. They hammered into the insect-like concentration of drones, smashing them apart and destroying the hive control.

More drones spat forth from the main warship, scurrying to plug the breaches, but were in turn sucked into the madly whirling dogfight. Gaps began to appear and it was into these widening fissures that De La Cruz drove his ships.

Whereas the drones level of independent thought was restricted, it was less so for the huge warship. Lack of emotions were a help in this instance and its laser and PPC’s opened fire, cutting a molten swath through the now intertwined forces. Missile batteries flamed and their deadly packages charged on, intent only on reaching the larger prizes which were rapidly closing the intervening distance.

The Captain-General snarled in frustration as he saw the tell-tale bloom of fire of a dying vessel. To the left of him, one of his destroyers took a fatal blow. Three missiles hit in quick succession, followed by the scathing beam of a particle cannon. Metal buckled, the ship’s shell imploding under rapid decompression and then ballooning outwards in time with its compromised fusion reactors.

“More speed!” he screamed, his knuckles white where they gripped the arm of his chair, “Hit it with all we’ve got!”

Another craft, a transport this time, died silently amidst the hellish barrage. Men and equipment were incinerated or thrown out of their protective shells, collateral jetsam of the battle. De La Cruz saw one of his fighters break through, its lasers ineffectively stabbing into the huge warship’s shell and then he saw its pilot give the ultimate sacrifice. Guns blazing, the man targeted what would have been another ship’s bridge, but in this case was nothing more than another of the many interconnected sensor arrays. He missed, but in doing so succeeded better than he had hoped, his dying craft ploughing into one of the starboard missile batteries and silencing it forever.

“Target that area and pass the word to our sister ships,” said the Captain-General through gritted teeth, “we have our opening.”

*


Jax walked out to meet the descending dropship, shielding his ears from the roaring of its engines. Overhead, Binetti and his men circled ready for their own landing; Elias apparently had a something in mind for them. The flames of the retros had hardly been extinguished before a ramp crashed to earth and men and women sallied forth. Urgently, they were directed into the open tunnels leading down, where they would be reassigned duties.

A shuttle waited, the air around it wavering with the suppressed heat of its eager departure. The Elemental Star, left behind to defend the jumpship bounced towards it, naval ratings with autorifles clutched in their hands waving them on. As the last man was pulled on board, the little craft rose, turned and shot away towards the training camp and Elana. The dropship would join it, once it had discharged its precious cargo, if there was time.

No BattleMechs strode forth, they too were in the mountains. Soon, the only movement was that of the M-39 attack drones, as they circled vigilantly.

*

Binetti and his men found Elias in a room adjoining the control centre. It was full of what appeared to be simulators and the pilot’s barely held control of his temper, tore.

“Freebirth!” he snapped, “You have brought us here for training?”

Elias looked up from his discussion with David and looked scathingly at Binetti.

“Each of you get into one of the seats,” he said, ignoring the pilot’s anger at his treatment, “you are no longer a Jade Falcon and I do not have the time for niceties. Before you are the machines which can be used to manually control the attack drones. Each of you will be able to command at least five, perhaps more but we are still unsure.”

Binetti’s mouth opened to reply, but this time the timid David spoke, “You heard him, what are you waiting for?”

The Star Commander’s jaw clacked shut. He grinned at his men and climbed into the open door of his machine. Perhaps later he would discuss the proper manner in which to address a warrior, but right now, he had some training to do.

Be careful, the M-5s were pretty close to sentient for argument's sake. They were extremely fast, heavily armed and armored, and would conduct ramming attacks should all else fail. They had the collective knowledge of centuries worth of naval experience to draw upon and could react very quick in combat. The fighter drones, not so much, but they'd be more of a smoke screen anyway - providing both covering fire, distraction and ultimately a kind of meat shield for the Caspars. (Also of note, SLDF gunners had a hard time targeting them M-5s and would try to aim for their drive tails.) That last bit sounds like fictional liberty given the intricacies of space combat, but it does highlight the speed and rapid course alterations these large WarShips were capable of.

And yes, I am reading over your shoulder. Surprise!

Well, it's a good job I'm listening to you and that you'll soon be meeting a special friend of mine

The desperate attack by the League pilot had indeed opened a small window in the warship’s defence and it was into this weakened area that De La Cruz poured all of his fire. Titanic beams bit and tore at the thickened armour plating, boiling it away in molten incandescence. Missile arrowed in, their warheads detonating in and around the machine’s hull, only the fighters now competing with attack drones.

It was not only one way though, the M-5 stubbornly refused to die, its electronic brain calmly calculating its demise, yet also throwing counter punches. A Corvette flew too close and PPC fir licked out, seeming to hold and caress its sleek shape. Holes appeared momentarily, exposing the ship’s inside to the vacuum. Men and women were boiled alive or died screaming as they were sucked into the void. Then it was gone.

De La Cruz slammed his fist into the arm of his chair in frustration as another of his destroyers limped away, of no use in the ongoing battle.

“Target its engines,” he roared and watched as missiles flew at his command. Armour peeled away with each strike, lasers now joining in the hellish fury of the bombardment. His own cruiser rocked beneath the drunken punch of the M-5, lights and alarms blaring.

“Hull breaches, we have hull breaches!” shouted an alarmed officer.

“Seal the affected sections!” he snapped.

“But, Sir!” protested the officer, “Our people...”

“Do as you’re told!” he snarled, his hand slipping to the holstered pistol at his side.

The man did as commanded, De La Cruz closing his eyes momentarily with the pain of loss. His ship shuddered again. A glance to his screen showed the warship listing now.

“Finish it!”

The Captain-General felt a cruel satisfaction as all of his ships opened fire together. The volley of strikes punching the damaged drone ship sideways. One must have struck a fusion plant as there was an answering bloom of fire. With unexpected suddenness, the flames were joined by other explosions. They rocked the giant hull, a series of titanic gouts of energy roiled outwards and the M-5 was no more.

Attack drones faltered, were confused and his pilots gladly took advantage. This did not last long, as a body they wheeled and flew to join the second M-5, which even now battled for its own survival.

De La Cruz smiled in satisfaction. He could see the FedCom jumpship lying unprotected before him.

“Despatch two ships,” he said wearily, “I want no possible escape route left for them. Make sure nothing is left that could vaguely be called a ship”

His glance strayed to his screen; League armoured dropships were near to entering the planet’s atmosphere. He could almost taste victory.

*

“Send the signal.” Jax’s voice was clear, crisp in its decisive, “Tell them to evacuate to the destroyer and get out of there. They are no use to us dead.”

“The Captain says that the charges are laid as requested,” said David, his hand closed over his mouth mike, “he asks to stay with his ship until the end.”

“His request is denied,” said Jax forcefully, “he has a new ship and will have others. The charges can be detonated remotely, if required. His escape can be made under cover of the jumpship’s destruction.”

Flashing icons showed the approach vectors of the Hanseatic League dropships. They were targeting the flat plain near to the base of the complex, just as he had expected. Good.

Jax transmitted Hans’ orders and then contacted Elias.

“Binetti and his men have the green light. I want those aerofighters immobilised.”

Receiving Elias’ confirmation, he strolled across to David, placing one hand on his shoulder, “David, your boys can also join the party. Send me a relief and get yourself down there. It’s time we showed our visitors what this complex can do.”

*

Kael Pershaw had been surprised at the difficulty found in overcoming the single warship. Its drones had caused numerous problems at first, but his own pilots had gradually picked them off. He had held back the full force of his own weapons, expecting it to be a relatively easy contest.

The destruction of the first M-5 had changed his plans. It was not in his nature for him to take a back seat to anyone and so he gave the order for direct conflict. When the second wave of fighters was announced, he gave it little thought, his men having easily mastered the initial onslaught. In his mind, he was already planning the landing of his BattleMechs and the conquest of the planet. Pershaw had made a number of errors in his life, but none as big as this.

*

Elias’ wakening of the complexes true potential had a number of smaller, in the scheme of things, effects. One of which was the untangling of redundant loops and processes. This more efficient routing of energy had been transmitted remotely to the satellite. It was a routine thing, a backup of data and commands, which passed all unnoticed.

Frustrated circuits were purged of erroneous data, dishes were realigned and solar power sucked greedily into the long dormant installation. On the surface of the asteroid there was little physical evidence of the turmoil below. Power coursed now through starving conduits, lights flickered madly as systems rebooted. Threats were detected and compared with the parent complex and action was taken.

The first mass-projectile had ripped its way through the guts of the Jade Falcon warship. Its velocity punching through the armour plating, shearing bulkheads, pulping bodies and destroying machinery before it had continued on its way, its momentum hurling it on into space.

Pandemonium reigned. Men died. Pershaw screamed in useless rage.
Its massive twin merely kissed the already damaged vessel, but this was no lover’s tap. A deep trough had been cut through the rear of the huge craft, twisted, buckled and smoking wreckage could be seen momentarily, before bulkhead doors slammed shut.

In the control room Pershaw struggled to his feet and shouted for order. His aide tried to make himself heard over the hubbub and actually had the temerity to grip his Khan’s shoulder, bundling him towards the tactical screen and the tell-tale icons.

Hanseatic League ships were shown as they ploughed on towards the planet. Two of their craft were shown approaching the FedCom jumpship whose icon blinked red and then disappeared. A golden show of smaller contacts were converging on the once mighty Jade Falcon vessel, their larger parent close behind.

“Get us out of here,” snarled Pershaw.

“But our fighters...”

The Khan’s augmented fingers dug into the young aide’s shoulder, driving him squealing into his seat.

“They are dead!” snapped Pershaw, “as will we be, if you do not carry out my orders!”

Space distorted around the tortured metal, its shape wavering briefly before it disappeared. The lone M-5 scanned the area, communicated briefly with the satellite and then changed its course, the attack drones mirroring its move.

Remaining Jade Falcon pilots stared in dismay at the spot where their warship had been. They had been left behind. No attack drones harried them. One Star Commander checked his remaining fuel, took a decision and led his remaining pilots towards the waiting planet.

*

Captain-General De La Cruz laughed when the jumpship exploded, crowed with delight at the Clan warship’s demise and rubbed his hands with glee when he received reports from his dropships. It was short-lived.

The remaining Caspar was now on a collision course with his mini-fleet. He was still confident, it had been relatively easy to defeat the first one. Warnings flashed on the main panel in front of him. They had been painted and it was coming from the asteroid belt.

*

Systems within the defence satellite were at almost one hundred percent. Its mass-projectile system was no use against the Hanseatic League fleet. It did though have other options.

Small ports began to open on the meteor-pocked surface, conical heads protruding from within. Flight-paths were quickly calculated and flames licked out from the newly uncovered depressions. First one volley and then another blasted their way forth, arcing out from the small planetoid, curving away and realigning themselves. Their miniscule brains accepted course adjustments and then the missiles locked onto their targets.

League fighters raced towards them, autocannons and lasers peppering the oncoming horde. Missiles exploded, in some cases taking their wing mates with them. Pilots sacrificed themselves to defend the fleet, but it was simply insufficient.

Point defence systems roared to life, angrily spitting an expanding cone of uranium-tipped slugs. Missiles flew out to meet their unfriendly brethren. It was simply not enough. The second volley was upon them.

Evasive manoeuvres were franticly taken, the fleet splitting apart. These though were Star League designed weapons, changes of target course had been anticipated. Smaller, fleeter ships might have a chance, but not the larger vessels.

“Brace for impact!” The voice on the speaker system added to the panic.

De La Cruz watched as the wicked lights representing the missiles came closer. Little by little, their number was diminishing, but there just was not enough time.

He watched the numbers by the side of one of the icons reduce. This one had their name on it.

“Impact in three...two...one!”

Jax’s orders to Arn had been fairly specific. He was not to engage the BattleMechs nor the dropship itself. Others would take care of that particular problem. They had two specific areas of conflict, with the plain close to the Complex being the larger. What exactly the Lieutenant had in mind, Arn was not sure, but his role was fairly clear. All he needed now was the signal.

Finally it came and Hauser led the way in the first of the light tanks, giving the landing area a wide berth and approaching the city from the far side. A warning had been given that they would be detected by the League troops in the dropship, but Jax had promised he would deal with that problem himself. When they received the green light, Hauser initiated their attack; the two tanks spearheading their approach, with the APC’s behind. Before they reached the city outskirts he had already opened fire, missiles arcing up and away to slam into the rear wall. Their impact gouged huge craters in the brickwork, which had been designed to resist cannon fire, but no architect could have imagined the brutal force which would be employed today.

PPC’s spat forth their lethal charges, burning rock and collapsing the what had previously appeared an imposing structure. The machines growling over their self-made entry ramps, lasers flashing. Once inside, the APC’s doors opened and Arn led his troops out. Sporadic fire met them, but was of little import; their autorifles and lasers silenced the resistance almost as soon as it had begun. The tanks needed no roadways; they made their own. Buildings collapsed with their passage, the APC’s being just a little more delicate.

Horses screamed and bolted, throwing their brightly-armoured riders to the floor. Soldiers fired once and then ran for cover. There was none. Little by little, Arn’s troops advanced towards the palace. Sowing mayhem and destruction as they passed.

*

The two BattleMechs had turned to face the perceived threat. Their tactical displays identified the machines which even now were terrorising the city. Conflicting orders were received, which was why they did not immediately move to engage the tanks. Doors began to open on the dropship to allow the passage of their fellow Mechwarriors when the ground opened beneath them, literally.

Attack drones flashed overhead, five groups of five, which scoured the area with missile and laser fire. The Rifleman which had been about to march into the city faltered, then staggered under the incoming barrage. Armour was stripped from the machine’s structure before its pilot managed to steady himself and return fire. His SRM’s streaked upwards, but missed the sleek fighters. It was difficult to concentrate on individual targets. The dropship defences burst into life, as did its engines. An inexperienced officer had given the order to lift off, countermanding his superior’s previous intentions.

The ship lifted slightly, its movement catapulting a Jenner from the ramp, as the ship twisted under its load. Face down the Mech fell, slamming forward in an untidy heap and still the Voidseekers attacked. A shuttle skimmed the nearby hillside and disgorged its troops. Jumpjets flared as the Elementals righted themselves and then bounded into action. Elana had arrived.

*

On the plain near to the complex, League forces were better prepared. Yet they had not expected to be attacked without warning. Their fighters patrolled the skies, but were unprepared for the missiles which raced towards them, nor the drones which shot out from the complex. They were forced away from protecting the dropships and into a fight for survival.

Camouflaged doors dropped down in the hillside, vomiting forth light tanks and ground troops. Jax’s call to Elana had given him another edge, and machines never seen since the height of the Star League stalked majestically onto the field. Heavy Mechs whose only purpose in life was to smash their enemies again saw the light of day. They were few, but deadly.