C h a p t e r 0 6: Wages of Greed
SLDF Castle RICHELIEU
Illyria
Illyrian Palatinate
January 11th, 3010
People were curious by nature. There was no way to change that. When the Marians first approached the Palatinate with their offer for non-aggression and trade, people were naturally curious about that. When they began to exploit their claims on the Illyrian worlds, people were all but scrambling to take a look at the newcomers. The merchant houses running the Palatinate wanted to know what the Marians were up to, so they had their thralls stake their claims out with cameras and sensors as best as they could. Curiosity became mixed with suspicion when on site security proved to be surprisingly tight. Soon, not even the best telephoto lenses were allowed to get close enough to their main dig site on Illyria. And cargo dropships started coming and going. The Illyrians were no rich or developed nation, but they were one thing: miners. And what they knew to be on planet did not justify the kind of traffic and security the Marian site so suddenly experienced. A formal complaint was lodged with the new embassy. Rumors started to circulate, of faded blue containers being shipped off world rather than processed ore. And people whose main currency is information took notice.
Cruising leisurely at 60,000 ft. the arrowhead-shaped, three by two meters drone had a radar cross section just shy of the size of a hawk and special pressure valves cooled its exhaust so that it was a mere blip on heat sensors. Sharing a tech base remarkably close to that in the currently Marian-occupied bunker, its impossible accurate cameras located in a basketball-sized cupola in its nose cone could read the health warning on the side of a cigarette pack from low orbit.
Sitting a few hundred kilometers away at the end of a secure pin-point laser link the drone's operator carefully zoomed in on the site deep down below. White prefab houses covered the valley floor. Four spheroid dropships sat on a blackened plain close by, with loading ramps extended. Scores of people were moving around, on foot and in machines. He had tried to check the dig site itself, but the tarps spread across the hill site did a remarkably effective job to obfuscate what happened beneath.
A large flatbed truck emerged from cover. The operator zoomed in on its back where tension belts held scores of crates painted in light blue. She frowned, zoomed in closer. Suddenly her eyes widened, and her hand slammed down on a button, freezing the feed. She could feel a pit in her stomach, and her fingers actually trembled for a moment before long cultivated self-control and discipline regained control. Swiftly picking up the feed where she had left, the camera jumped to a second vehicle racing from the gash in the hillside, carrying a similar load.
She picked up her phone and pushed the speed dial on it.
"I'm sending you an image now," the operator said tensely before the voice on the other end of the line could speak. "We do have a situation here. Have you got it?"
"Blake's beard…!" the other voice, usually so composed, muttered.
The operator just nodded to herself, the image of flatbed full of crates labeled with the Cameron Star frozen on her screen again. Blake's beard, indeed.
Mount Caelus
Nova Roma, Alphard
Marian Hegemony
January 13th, 3010
"I thought you'd be dancing through the palace,
dominus. Now you're sitting here, looking as if a cat pissed into your morning coffee," Posca frowned at his master.
Marius sat in a high-backed chair in the small council chambers he had had constructed on Mount Caelus as an annex to the imperial palace, mirroring the Chamber of Whispers in the city down below. Resting his elbow on the table to prop up his head, he grimaced back at the grey-haired slave and mentor.
"Nobody wants to see me dance, Posca," he shook his head. The rest of his inner circle had taken some time to get used to the unfiltered discussions between the two men.
"I'm not convinced of that, sir. I've seen your martial arts training, and you do have good body control. A video here and there could do wonders enamoring you with the plebs," Victor Blackwood smiled, his smile widening at Marius irritation before it completely dropped off his voice and his voice turned serious. "It's almost like a trojan horse, isn't it?" It was clear he did not mean the dancing.
"It does invite trouble," Marius conceded. "This isn't just a lance of lostech mechs you find in some forgotten warehouse, Posca. Just what's in this freight manifesto is enough to equip an army!" he pushed the printout back into the middle of the table.
The Mule dropship had burned for the planet, hard, its cargo bays filled to the brim. Others had already been sent to Illyria they day the message of their discovery had been received.
His uncle Corvinus leaned forward and picked it up.
"That dropship's been filled to the top. Enough guns and gear to fit out every soldier of the whole 1st Mechanized, and that's less than half of what Volkov says they still have on site. A company of
Marksman artillery vehicles. Thor artillery vehicles. Alacorns with freaking Gauss rifles. Plenty of Bulldogs. A few Goblins. Von Luckners. A lance of Valis. Half a dozen Rhinos. Half a dozen damaged Condors. Prometheus bridge layers. Manticores. ATVs. And the list goes on and on…"
Alina Volkova whistled in surprise.
"I reckon that's a lot?" Posca look between her and Marius.
"Not enough to restage a play of the First Succession War, but substantial, given our means and numbers. And supposedly that not all. What about battlemechs?" General Volkova asked.
"About a battalion so for, and those are just the ones that are damaged yet deemed service-ready. Your son says there's plenty more that are in pieces. Apparently, there's types in there your son barely even recognizes," Corvinus told her.
"There's more," Marius explained quietly. "The list of what they've found and noted as valuable enough to be looted covers three pages, from Star League computers up to apparently a handful of unspecified naval weapons.
Ideally, Posca, we take everything up to the last nail and screw and ship it back to the Hegemony."
"Realistically, that is wishful thinking, sir," Blackwood spoke up. Realizing that nobody objected him the head of the nascent Marian secret service continued. "There are too many people involved, and too much crucial gear involved in this operation. If we send in too many ships to get the material out, the sheer number will make people suspicious. If we don't send as many, chances rise exponentially with every passing day that people figure out what we're doing anyhow. Hell, even if the Patties don't find out chances are one of our own people will spill the beans at some point. Someone always does."
"I'm afraid I still don't see the problem,
dominus. Surely, such a coup would be a nigh legendary success, especially this early in your reign? Chances are you could ignore whatever misgivings the Senate may have for at least the next couple of years, right?" Posca looked puzzled, which was a rare occurrence.
"Wish that domestic reaction was the only side of the coin I've got to keep in mind, Posca," Marius shook his head. "A find of that size attracts all the wrong attention from all the wrong sides. People stop being rational when they hear the words 'lostech' and 'Star League'. If the find is big enough to have people worried, they might just take this as a sign to lash out pre-emptively."
"Everybody from the Circinus Federation to the Free Worlds League could feel impelled to act. McIntyre's people have almost three mech regiments, and they are a lot closer to the planet than we are. Luckily, they are also the least likely to find out. Unfortunately, that can't be said for Kyalla Centrella," Blackwood explained. "The Magistracy's espionage apparatus is very capable, and given the Hegemony's relation with Canopus, the Magestrix could very well feel that temporarily leaving some borders exposed to gather a force large enough to directly attack us before we can make use of the find is worth the risk. Worst case scenario, SAFE finds out and the FWL wants it."
He had forgotten Comstar. Privy as he had been to classified information, Marius had slowly seen the benevolent façade of the organization unravel during his first reign. He did not know to what end, but Terra disliked the idea of advanced technology in the hands of everybody but them. The robes were not to be underestimated
"Alina?" Marius shot her an inquisitive look.
The tall officer solemnly shook her head. "Nothing we field right now would withstand a coordinated assault on Alphard or the rest of our territory. A few years down the road and we could make it a fight, but right now? If Kyalla or the Marik really wanted to knock us out, they certainly could."
"We're doing what we can, but neither procurement nor training is magic," Corvinus added, nodding at General Volkova. "Setting up the infrastructure takes time, recruiting takes time, and getting the legionaries to a point where they know what they're doing again takes time. Also, mechs and tanks don't grow on trees, and we don't have any domestic production. Even if we magically had the legionaries, we're stuck with what the market can provide.
Ideally, we can have the 1st Mechanized fully established by the end of the year, and
Legio I on a good way."
"They'd also be green and untested as hell, sir," Volkova shook her head.
"Which is why we need to keep our heads down,
amici. No parades, no official statements, no numbers. Give it all time to settle, then slowly drip feed what we have into the forces. A couple hundred Mausers here, two or three mechs at a time there. Nothing to ruffle too many feathers. Until then: a complete information blockade," Marius emphasized.
"I will try to keep it under wraps, but at the end of the day there are too many people involved to keep this totally secret," Blackwood sounded apologetic, but resolved. It was the voice of a man who knew had taken the stance of 'It is what it is, but we'll make it work'. "I'll prepare a tale, find a way to spin the story. Once things are revealed it won't be possible to outright deny that we've found something. But I
can try to control the narrative, minimize the scope of what we have found. Reveal only what we absolutely must, when we must. Downplay it. Should be possible unless someone decides to leak all of it in one go. Then we're screwed," he shrugged nonchalantly.
"So, we hope for the best but prepare for the worst?" Marius shoulders slumped.
"I'm afraid with so many cooks stirring the pot that is precisely all we can do, sir."
The council fell silent.
The Illyrian cache had been an afterthought in Marius' plans, something almost forgotten since it barely made news when it happened, and Comstar's dedicated involvement had kept much of it under wraps. Going after it had been more of a spur of the moment decision, probably more tempting the thought out. Now that it was in his hands, the repercussions of actually having access to it suddenly rested a lot more heavily on his shoulders than he had anticipated. Slowly, he rose from his seat.
"I fear times are changing, amici. Everywhere there are signs the Inner Sphere is slowly but surely clawing its way out of the worst of the succession wars, growing again, rebuilding. It's not just the jackpot we've struck in Illyria that invariably may put us in danger. For a century we've grown rich off raiding our neighbors, by being a safe haven for pirates. We have to be careful that what has made us wealthy won't soon paint a large bull's eye on our back. It would be the peak of irony that right when we are at the cusp of becoming a true power some minor incident leads to an avalanche that ends up burying us." He turned to Blackwood. "I know you are the newcomer and outsider to this constellation," his gesture took in the whole room, "and that I'm saddling you with much. But our fate may very well depend on the information you gather and provide us with."
Blackwood shot Posca a glance and smiled.
"Sir, I've been provided with both the challenge and the opportunity of a lifetime. I'll do what is in my power. I'll also make an effort to keep tabs on what all those enterprising privateers who harbor are up to. Just in case."
Marius sighed, feeling a lot older than his young body had reason to.
"Alright, I suppose that's all I can ask for anyway. Uncle, Alina: I know you're doing it already but get me those cohort up and running. We'll convene once there are new developments. Now if you excuse me, I think I'll have to clue in my sister about what's going on."
His thoughts wandered to the contents of the shielded box in his personal quarters.
Nobody else knows of this, Aidan's note had read.
It could change everything. The question was: how?
SLDF Castle RICHELIEU
Illyria, Illyrian Palatinate
March 2nd, 3011
"Move! Move! Move!"
Aidan ran up a flight of stairs, his neurohelmet in one hand, the other grabbing the hand rail to pull him along faster. The stairwell was abuzz with the sound of boots, heavy breathing, grunted commands and curses. Alarms blared through the concrete caverns of the ancient SLDF castle. The day was officially going to hell in a handbasket.
The Patties had been getting ever more insistent in their demands to get access to the site. This morning, they had made a real job of it. A few companies of armor and infantry had set up position on the edge of the
Ferrum claim, supported by a few mechs, and an ultimatum had been issued: give us access to your claim, we know you're illegally digging for lostech.
Aidan had tried to stall them. Then RICHELIEU's long dormant sensors had picked up a jump signature at the planet's pirate point, and before they knew it an Overlord was howling through the atmosphere. He'd hailed the ship. The only answer had been to land on the tail of a fusion torch and disgorge an understrength battalion of mechs at his doorstep.
"Nguyen, I need that bunker online!" yelling into his radio, he pushed a blast door open and sprinted into the main loading area.
It was pandemonium. The evacuation order had been given twenty minutes ago, and everybody not carrying a gun was busy grabbing whatever they could get in a last minute effort to squeeze just that tiny little extra bit of technology out of the castle.
"There's like two thousand tons of soil and rock on top of that cupola!" Nguyen's harried voice barked back through the speakers. "I need more time!"
"Time's the one thing I don't have. I'll see what I can do. Keep the line open!"
"Roger. We'll get this thing going, no matter the cost. Nguyen out!"
Aidan ran towards the automated mech repair bays. All the machinery and electronics rested in doubly secured freight containers, with every nut and bolt video documented in triplicate. The flatbeds were ready to roll. Behind them stood his ride.
A jeep came racing down the entry tunnel and stopped with screeching tires.
Centurio Ostroff jumped out and came running towards him. Covered in sweat and dust, the seven foot tall soldier looked even bulkier in the combat armor he had requisitioned from the SLDF depot. The Mauser assault pulse laser looked like a submachine gun in the man's bear paws. Crusted blood covered the back of one hand.
"Comms to the jumpships are down, centurio," he reported without introduction. "We've been getting plastered with heavy broad-band jamming since the moment that big bugger made landfall."
"Are we holding?" Aidan donned the neuro helmet and fastened the chin strap. The SLDF model was far lighter and more ergonomic than the unwieldy static helmets he was used to.
"The Patties 'ave underestimated our defenses and readiness. Beat their first assault back. Bloody affair. They must've lost two hundred men and a company worth of vehicles and mechs. We lost a quartex, and two mechs took a pounding but are still up," the infantry specialist reported. "But we need to leave, now. Those newcomers have gone after the outer camps and are now moving onto us!" Ostroff was usually as stoic as a rock, but the urgency in his voice was undeniable now.
Aidan angrily shook his head. "I'm not abandoning this bunker, not without a serious fight, Ostroff. We're not letting this facility and all our equipment fall into enemy hands that easily. Nguyen's men are working on getting the surface defenses up, and our demo experts are setting charges to blow the entry tunnel. We'll take whatever's not nailed down, blow a mile worth of tunnel to deny the Patties and whoever else is out there easy access, and
then we'll be getting the hell outa Dodge."
Ostroff flashed a lopsided smile. "A shame we never got a chance to check out those other tunnels. Always was curious why they worked extra hard to blow them."
"Fuck 'em," Aidan muttered. "Could be zombies down there. Could be Roland the Headless Hunchback pilot haunting the halls, for all I care. We're living on borrowed time, so it's better to get the stuff we have got access to than speculate about the stuff we haven't."
"Alright," almost four hundred pounds of legionary nodded. "What are your orders?"
"See those flatbeds? No matter what happens, they
have to get onboard a dropship. Keep a corridor from the bunker to the landing site open. Get the rest of the people out."
"And what're you going to do?"
"I'm going to buy us some time." Aidan patted the hull of the giant war machine standing next to him and smiled. "I've always wanted to shoot a Gauss gun."
A throng of techs buzzed around the mech's feet. Their commanding officer waved at him.
"Centurio, I'm going to run you through the start-up sequence," he announced.
"Absolutely not," Aidan snapped. "We've got no time for that. Get me in that cockpit and get out of the way."
"Alright, but I'll have it noted that it's on your own peril then," the mech tech frowned. "This isn't just an SLDF machine, sir. It's a royal configuration, Hegemony specs. I'll be on the line for the first meters."
"Fine," Aidan grunted, "as long as you get me in the field, now!"
RICHELIEU's main tunnel was a fifteen meters high oval, but it piloting an assault mech it felt like a cramped narrow tube.
"Be careful, sir. The neurofeedback on Star League systems is more direct and intuitive than on what we're used to work with," his mech tech explained to him via radio as he stomped up the causeway.
Aidan had to evade a duo of trucks and the multitude of civilian and military personnel that squeezed through the tunnel. In intervals specialists were setting demo charges against loadbearing parts. He caught a glance at Mitch and Kat, laden with plastic explosives they had dug up from part of the bunker's storage. There faces were fully concentrated, bereft of their usual banter.
"Roger, I can feel it. Movement and commands are much more fluid than I'm used to. Makes steering almost feel slippery," he replied. "Rather than brute forcing my way through with sheer concentration it all almost comes too easy."
"The matches with the data we've taken from the systems. Calibration and permeability of neural transmitters is leagues better than our stuff." A pause. "Your armor's complete, but patchwork. The autorepair bay was already dismantled, so what you see is what you get, sir. Best I could do on the fly."
"As long as I can fight I'm not too concerned about the paint job, base," Aidan turned around the last bend in the tunnel.
"Jump jets are offline, as is the Artemis system, and you're short some ammo…," signal quality deteriorated quickly as he walked towards the light of day.
"Understood, base. Get out safely!"
"G...d hun..ng!"
He emerged from the concrete tunnel into the funnel of packed dirt holding the sides of the hill. The last shreds of the tarp meant to conceal the entry flapped in the wind above. Fires raged in the prefab village. Broken glass glittered in the sunlight. Soot covered blackened walls. Pockmarked and burning tanks stood discarded along the wide eastern slope. The dead were everywhere. Waiting for more to join them.
Chunks of ferroconcrete erupted around him as a salvo of AC rounds tore into the first prefab house he came across. Aidan's ninety-ton assault mech turned like a ballet dancer, his targeting computer picking up an enemy Dragon at around half a kilometer away. The Terran Hegemony built electronics burned through whatever ECM the other mech emitted with terrifying ease and locked on in far less time than Aidan was used to from his Grasshopper. His LRM20 launcher belched a salvo of guided missiles and he brought his M-7 Gauss rifle to bear. Anxiously he held his breath as the targeting reticles converged. His own missile warning blared angrily as the Dragon spat out ten LRMs of its own, but before they had crossed half the distance Aidan punched the firing button. Thunder cracked, but not from the weapon itself. The ferrous nickel-iron slug riding on a trail of ionized air crossed the supersonic threshold – and slammed into the Dragon before the sound even had registered in Aidan's ears.
The effect was instantaneous – and devastating. The Dragon was a heavy beast, and its torso-based LRM launcher served as an additional buffer zone for the humanoid mech's cockpit area. At least, it should have. The metal slug tore across the launcher's upper half and right through the front window, peeling the mech's head away like an overripe banana.
Aidan had no time to gawk as the dying mech's last salvo pummeled the Highlander, makeshift plating coming loose in some spots. He gritted his teeth, but the massive war machine took the hits in stride. The Dragon simply had stopped. It stood right below the ridge like a statue.
"Holy crap," the centurio muttered, "I think I'm in love."
Circumstances gave him no breathing room to venerate the ancient technical marvel he rode in as his screen lit up with red blips.
"Control, what's the situation.
Augustulus, this is
Watch Dog 1!"
"
Watch Dog 1,
Minerva is set to launch in two,"
Augustulus' operator's voice was tense. "
Bollinger's broken orbit and we've lost contact ascent due to enemy jamming. Outer camps are gone, and we've got more than twenty-five enemy mechs converging on
Ferrum."
"Negative on launch, Control. Evac still ongoing, main package en route! Maintain position and give fire support!" Aidan commanded, switching channels. "Shepherds, this is
Watch Dog 1. Meet at my coordinates and protect the road from bunker to dropships! Pair up and prepare for mobile defense."
He drove the Highlander through the rubble of the settlement up the eastern slope to get a better vantage point.
"Ostroff, what's your situation?"
"We've fallen back to our second line of positions to tighten the defense," the gruff centurio's voice echoed through his speakers. "Infantry ammo's fine, but we're running short on LAWs and portable SRMs. Not sure how much good we'll do against those mechs." He sounded doubtful.
"Fall back to the LZ then and secure the loading area around Augustulus and Minerva. Your men are of no use getting trampled in the rubble, taking potshots with their rifles," Aidan made a quick decision.
"Understood, Watch Dog 1." Ostroff hesitated before adding: "What about Nguyen?"
"The Shepherds will keep the road open as long as possible," Aidan promised. "Now move out!"
"Roger, centurio. Ostroff out."
Aidan's Highlander climbed the eastern slope's ridge. Green blips moved to the section of the map that lead from he funnel-shaped cut in the nearby hill to the dropships sitting a little less than a kilometer away. His lightest unit was a relatively new Quickdraw. The heaviest mech in his arsenal, aside from the Highlander he had adopted, was an ancient Cyclops. Alphard had pulled out all the stops to give him the most firepower they could scrape together, and he was under no illusions the reason he was in command was directly related to the fact the emperor was his friend – and the highest ranking officer of the armed forces his mother. There'd been plenty of officers with more seniority, but he'd gotten the job, and he'd be damned if he didn't see it through!
The red tide advancing on him right now put that into question.
Enemy mechs poured over the next ridge, APCs and infantry in tow, registering his presence the same moment as he did theirs. He didn't wait for them to make the first move. The Highlander locked on to the next best target, a Griffin in plain white, and he punched the master firing button, unleashing a full salvo of short and long-range missiles, lasers and Gauss slugs. Immediately he put the Highlander in reverse. More peripherally than consciously he noted the mech dancing like a puppet as projectiles hammered its hull and the solid metal slug evaporated armor.
"Enemy moving in! Shepherds, get ready!" he called out over his comms. "Nguyen, right about now would be a good time!" Aidan caught the LRM launcher cycling back to green and fired again. The already battered Griffin staggered back once more as missiles tore into its torso. With a flash the shoulder-mounted missile launcher exploded, and barely a split second later a series of explosions rocked the mech, tearing it apart in a fireball.
A barrage of PPC bolts, autocannon fire and incoming missiles cut any kind of celebration on Aidan's side short. Gritting his teeth, he drove his assault mech back below the ridge as damage indicators turned to yellow and orange. "Nguyen!?"
"Working on it," Nguyen sounded as if he was speaking through gritted teeth. "I'm sending my people out with the trucks, I can do this with a rump crew. A few minutes," he promised.
Up above,
Augustulus opened fired over the ridge, LRMs and PPC bolts raining down on the attacking force. They responded in kind.
"We don't have minutes!"
The Highlander stopped between the wreckage of two two-story prefab houses, towering above them. "Everybody get ready. Here they come!"
They did. Like a tsunami the enemy force rolled over the hilltop. Aidan's
Shepherd team were the first to fire, throwing out a ten mech alpha strike that hit the first wave like a truck. Shielding his lower torso and legs against the enemy, he himself opened fire as well, spreading his weapons across the whole advancing front. SRMs exploded between soldiers. Medium lasers bore into APCs. His LRMs took a fancy to Marauder. The Gauss gun hiss death at a mech his battle computer identified as an Excalibur, blowing its right arm cleanly off. Across the front pristine white mechs took damage and people died.
The counterstrike followed immediately. While the first line still struggled under the Marian onslaught the enemy's second line rolled over the hill top. The enemy mechs wasted no time and started firing with brutal efficiency. Their battered comrades joined in almost immediately.
Being on the move was what took the sharpest edge off the blow. Aidan's men were experienced veterans and knew their machines well. Paired up and mobile, a lot of the incoming fire missed outright or was caught in a way that one covered the other's vulnerable spots. Still, none walked out of that first response unscathed.
Like Tango dancers, the Marian mechs swerved across the valley floor, keeping away from the road in their center. Where the attackers fire was heavy, but individual, Aidan's people concentrated theirs. The Marauder was a tough cat, but in the combined crosshairs of a Thunderbolt and a Grasshopper it staggered. The Cyclops and Quickdraw paired up against the Excalibur. Others followed suit.
In theory the idea was good. Practically, the white mechs teamed up as well. Not only were their ECM quickly proving to be a problem. Some of the mechs also somehow began shooting down the Marian missiles!
"Coming through!" Nguyen barked, and the flatbed trucks shot out of the hillside.
The Shepherds shifted, no longer just concerned with putting as much hurt on the enemy, but now dedicated to offering themselves up as more promising targets than the unarmed trucks and the passengers clinging to their backs and side.
Autocannon rounds exploded all around them. Lasers lashed out, and the staccato of machine guns. In a day that was going to hell in a handbasket Aidan witnessed a miracle as none of the trucks driving along the rubble-strewn road took any serious hits.
His own men were less lucky. The Quickdraw took a quick succession of laser and PPC hits. The Cyclops lost an arm all the while his AC/20 shredded an enemy medium mech. His centuria's Catapult jogged across the battlefield, lasers blazing and missiles streaking from its pods when it was hit by a combined AC barrage coming from three directions. The massive war machine crumpled like a tin can before its internal ammo stores exploded in a violent stream of fire.
"Nguyen!"
A long, deep metallic moan echoing through the valley basin was his answer. The ground rumbled even over the sounds of battle, and tons of earth and rock slid off the hill as some five hundred meters behind the bunker entrance an armored cupola pushed itself through the top layers of soil.
With the sound of metal grinding on stone a massive LRM launcher emerged from the cupola's top, flanked by pair of guns. The missile flaps opened and a seemingly endless stream of projectiles speared into the sky on white exhaust trails. Barreling through the ruins of the base camp, Aidan fired his Gauss rifle again, coring an already burning Flashman while SRMs belched from his launcher into the legs of a Kintaro and between a group of enemy soldiers. His eyes followed the bunker's missile salvo, wondering what mech Ngyuen had targeted. He frowned before bringing his medium lasers up to keep the heat buildup in check, focusing his targeting sensors on the Kintaro. He was about to fire when the missiles landed like pearls on a string in a line cutting across the whole enemy front.
Rather than listlessly spraying the mixed Patty-merc force with debris and shrapnel gleaming hot white fireballs erupted as burning gel popped all over the dry brushland. A wall of fire cut the attacker's force in two. Both Aidan and the enemy Kintaro pilot paused a second, stunned. Despite the distance the Marian centurio thought he could feel the fire's heat penetrate his cockpit. Or maybe that was just his mind's way of distracting himself form the dancing little torches all along the slope?
Whoever commanded the white mechs reacted immediately this time. The enemy's right flank broke off the assault on Aidan's position and turned towards the bastion as one, opening fire in a split second.
In his own fight, Aidan's enemy found his bearing first. One medium laser missed, the other burned across the Highlander's chest, but it was the Kintaro's dual SRM-6 launchers that dialed the assault mech's armor readings into the deep red in far too many places for comfort.
Aidan returned the favor, swerving left as good as possible in a twelve meter, ninety ton war machine as his freshly cycled launcher spat SRMs, leaving the medium mech's right arm limp. His own two lasers burned deep scars across the merc's hips, but the Gauss slug went awry, bursting through half a dozen prefabs, bringing his ammo down to half.
"Keep it up, people!" Aidan commanded. "Every gun on those bastards as long as the fire's keeping them apart." He grunted as the Kintaro opened fire again, twisting the Highlander's torso to dip out of the missile barrage's way almost completely. "
Augustulus, what's
Minerva's state!?"
"
Watch Dog, loading is halfway done," control responded urgently, alarms blaring in the background. "Where starting to take damage!" Augustulus warned, fittingly as PPC bolts and laser zapped over the wall of fire, over the Shepherds' heads and into the landed dropships. "Be advised we have the rest of the enemy force advancing on Ferrum from the outer camps. Encirclement is a matter of minutes,
Watch Dog. We can't stay much longer!"
Rather than changing the firing position Aidan kept his forward momentum and covered the few dozen meters between the Kintaro and his SLDF mech in a few seconds. "Roger, Control!" The merc fired his lasers again, and the Highlander soaked the damage up. But his SRM launchers had not yet reloaded again. "Nguyen! Can you set the turret to auto fire? Demo team?! Everybody in the bunker, get back to the LZ, now!" The assault mech raised its right arm. It looked as if the white mech realized in the last second what was going on and tried to backpedal, but it was too late.
"Just a few more cables," a terse Mitch muttered quickly before his channel fell silent again.
Throwing a massive right hook Aidan smashed the Kintaro's helmet-like cockpit in.
The young centurio took a second to evaluate the battlefield. All around him mechs were fighting, dying. For the moment, his remaining mechs held numerical superiority on this side of the wall of fire, but the burning, clinging gel would stop the enemy only so long, and fire did nothing to stop the mercs from using their long range weapons against his men and machines.
His radio screeched.
"…aking too mu… fire! …ret jammed!" Nguyen's voice was barely audible through static and explosions.
Almost a dozen enemy mechs and tanks that had shifted to the threat of the bunker's active defenses raced towards Nguyen's position, all weapons firing into the thick steel cupola and the embrasures and gun port. One of the guns attached to the large topside launcher shattered into a thousand pieces as AC rounds tore into it. The weapons' mount shuddered, squealed – but did not move to target its assailants. Flashes and explosions illuminated the others side of the cupola as well, and the announced enemy reinforcements appeared as distant blips on his sensors, showering the SLDF defenses with long range fire.
"Nguyen, do you read? Nguyen!?"
Aidan pushed the wrecked Kintaro over and targeted the first best mech firing at the bunker. Twenty guided missiles and a metal slug struck true, butchering the thin back armor of a Marauder, with the Gauss projectile breaching the front canopy.
Flames poured from the bunker's embrasures, so white and hot that they almost appeared liquid. Deep inside Aidan knew that getting Nguyen and the rest of his men out was a forlorn hope, but he still tried to raise him again. The channel remained silent.
The enemy did not. Turning, the detached flank now concentrated back on the Shepherds, and now their friends joined the fray as fresh pristine white mechs appeared in pair or triplets all along the horizon. Among the second line of attackers a gap appeared and an Atlas rumbled through the still burning wall of flames, ignoring the searing gel. With the breach made, others followed suit, set to join again with the rest of their comrades, momentarily turning into a solid wall of white steel.
"Shepherds, keep the entryway open at all costs!" Aidan moved his Highlander towards the deep cut leading inside the ancient Castle Brian complex, and the remaining Marian mechs joined in.
"Demo team! Mitch! They're pushing towards the bunker. Out now, and blow the damn thing!"
He fired his Gauss gun another time, dropping the ammo count to three. An Orion caught the slug dead center but kept coming.
Scarred, the heavy mech returned the favor by firing its AC/10 and LRMs, turning the Highlander's armor readings all across the torso to a purple. Metal moaned and myomers snapped as the impact of weapons' fire cut the assault mech's left arm off right below the shoulder. Zeroing in on the Hegemony force, the merc mechs opened fire, almost as one.
Two Shepherds went down in flames, bringing his numbers down to six mechs plus his own.
"Watch Dog 1, Minerva is loaded and preparing launch. Return to LZ immediately! I'm firing up the drives," Control snapped.
With a feeling of all-encompassing dread Aidan saw the enemy lead lance form a wedge and run towards the excavated entry of RICHELIEU, their comrades providing them with ample covering fire. He glanced at his displays and at his remaining comrades. Taking a deep breath, he put the Highlander in reverse and started pouring as much fire into the enemy as his heat sinks could tank.
"Shepherds, evac immediately. Cover each other!" he flipped channels, defeated. "Mitch, they're at the entrance. Will be inside any moment now. We're getting slaughtered here. Can't hold them. I'm sorry!"
There was a long pause before the demo specialist replied. When he did his voice sounded just as numb as Aidan's.
"Got it, centurio. Wish I could say it's been a pleasure. Get our people home safely." He sighed. "Hope it all was worth it." The line fell silent.
Falling back under the merc onslaught, Aidan watched his numbers shrink further as one of his Thunderbolts' legs gave in, sending the allrounder mech tumbling down. The pilot punched out in the last second, but landed in the middle of pandemonium and was quickly swallowed by fire and chaos.
The five hundred meters to the ship felt like an eternity. As the distance shrunk, more enemy mechs poured into the causeway down to the bunker. Limping, burning, bereft of limbs and attached weapons the Shepherds hurried into
Augustulus' mech bays. Aidan stepped onto the ramp, the Highlander's torso twisted to provide the illusion of protection.
Suddenly, distorted and weak, Mitch's voice broke through the overall radio static.
"Better with a bang than a wimper, eh? Fuck you, assholes!"
The earth heaved. And again. And again.
A series of thunderclaps roared out of RICHELIEU's main tunnel, then dust and debris gushed out in a gray geyser.
As the loading ramp rose in front of Aidan he saw, almost like in slow motion, as part of the hill gave him, collapsing on itself. Rushing into a cubicle, Augustulus' systems secured his mech alongside what remained of the
Shepherds, and almost instantly heavy G-forces pushed his body down as the Union-class' fusion engine jumped into action. The explosive force of the engines created a pulsing, rhythmic cadence that pounded through the dropship like the beat of a pounding heart. Against its own engine the impacts of enemy fire against the hull was barely audible. The force of the launch pushed Aidan into his cockpit seat like a great hand, squeezing his whole body as the dropship struggled to gain height and speed.
Alone and cut off, Aidan Volkov's thoughts fell back to what he had left behind, and at the catastrophe that had unfolded right around him. Nguyen dead. Mitch. Kat. Half the Shepherds. The voyage home would be long and dour.
He did not need to be a soothsayer to know his old friend's reaction upon receiving the news.
The Emperor would not be pleased.
Mount Caelus
Nova Roma, Alphard
Marian Hegemony
April 19th, 3010
A storm front pushed dark gray clouds into the bay and over Nova Roma. The rain was still a thin drizzle, cold humidity that crept through clothes and windows alike. The weather was a perfect mirror of the mood inside the small council.
"You shouldn't have lied to me, brother." Sylvana paced across the room, her auburn hair gathered in a tight bun, wearing a thin business suit in several shades of green.
"I guess I'm lucky I confided in you eventually then," Marius rumbled, his youthful face frowning as he absentmindedly swirled a double bourbon in a thick tumbler.
"I'm your sister, Marius. If you can't be honest with me, who else can you be it with?" she snapped back at him. "I would've advised against this whole spiel from the very start! Maybe you're not all that suited for being more than a school teacher!" she rounded on Posca. "Great job at being imperial advisor!"
"Let it be, Syv," Marius took a deep sip of whiskey. "Posca's not to blame. I got the information. The whole thing was my idea." He placed the tumbler on the table and straightened. "I made the decision."
She stared back at him for a moment before she sighed and shook her head, her shoulders slumping. "Whatever. You're the emperor. Just don't drag me into something if you're not willing to clue me in. Not ever again, brother!" She turned half to face the rest of the council. "Well, it seems I now can add 'how to write off a company' to my corporate resume," she added tartly.
Marius smiled sympathetically. "How bad is it?"
"It's more an annoyance than a catastrophe for me," she shook her head, causing her bun to wobble around. "The monetary and material losses for the company are probably a decimal in our balance sheet. Most operations haven't progressed far enough to demand massive equipment investments and transport costs. We can cleanly write off IPM. I'm not the one I'm worried about, brother."
"You're worried about the political fallout?" he raised an eyebrow.
"Well, obviously. You've ben working hard to get your ideas and laws through the Senate. Getting chased off Illyria will make you look weak," she explained.
Under the table, Marius balled his fists. He'd barely looked at this angle since the news of their rout had broken in the palace. Once again, he found himself face to face with the strange staccato of highs and lows that an active part in shaping once fate brought with it. Just the other day he had been leading the groundbreaking ceremony for the Alphard Aerospace Academy, the naval pendant to the Imperial War College that was currently already under construction.
"Not necessarily. We could make it look like the culmination of a clever plan and show all the lostech we gained," Corvinus suggested.
"Absolutely not!" Marius shot the proposal down, sounding harsher than he had intended. "We will keep our findings as much under wraps as possible. Something always slips through the cracks, but the less people know about what we've got, the better for all. There's enough people out there who would try to get their hands on it, and go over our collective corpses to get there."
"Maybe we need just the opposite of the
magister militum's idea?" Victor Blackwood spoke up for the first time. "Just tell the people the truth. Minus the lostech angle. Repeat how we went to Illyria with open arms. Brought trade and investments. Only to be backstabbed by those honorless Viking descended yokels. No good deed remains unpunished and all that."
"That could work," Posca nodded, giving Marius an encouraging smile.
"Thank you," Blackwood presented the thinnest of smiles himself. "Prepare a speech to the nation. Condemn Illyrian aggression. Doesn't matter if it's just half the truth. Domestically, we control the flow of information, so all you've got to do is stay ahead of the news curve."
General Volkova cleared her throat. "Regardless of how we spin it: we cannot let this stand, sir. The people will want blood. And I know for a fact that the legion will want a chance at payback."
Marius turned away and rose, walking over to the star map that covered almost all of the chamber's northern wall. He knew Alina was right. Appearing weak was the greatest mistake a leader in his position could make. A few years down the road he probably could have shrugged it off, especially with all the turmoil the near future was about to unleash. But right now, he needed to be the strong brute, inside and outside the Hegemony's borders.
He looked at the four mosaic stars representing the worlds of the Palatinate and made up his mind.
"How long will it take to mobilize our forces, General? When can you punish the Illyrians?"
SLDF Castle 401-L RICHELIEU
Constructed in the early days of 2766 C.E. by the SLDF corps of engineers RICHELIEU was one of a number of fortifications specifically set up outside both the Successor States and the Periphery nations. Distant enough from the front lines as to not invite enemy attacks and still close enough to serve the juggernaut of the Star League Defense Force, RICHELIEU and its brethren were smaller in size than the standard Castles Brian of the Inner Sphere, but larger than the Outpost Castles found throughout the Periphery. Meant not primarily as garrisons – even though the complexes provided ample room for large detachments of troops to be housed and supplied near permanently – but as logistics hubs for the front lines, the average Castle 'L' consisted of four to eight underground levels of warehouses, machine shops, garages and large repair facilities for most military vehicles smaller than dropships. Castles 'L' would provide medical facilities advanced enough to care for wounded that could not be properly nurtured or saved in field hospitals, and their repair facilities could return machines back to service that field repairs would have seen scrapped and butchered for parts. By storing replacements for all branches of the SLDF the Castles 'L' kept supply lines short, especially for larger gear like naval parts that otherwise would have been needed to be brought in from great distances, often from Hegemony worlds. RICHELIEU was one of only three Castles 'L' to be finished and put into service, and the garrison saw most traffic when General Kerensky moved the SLDF against the Rim Worlds Republic and during the preparation phase for the drive towards Terra.
While nominal operations and refilling of the dwindling stocks were attempted in the years following the end of the Amaris Civil War, the garrison eventually saw the writings on wall as the Inner Sphere slipped closer to all out war. When General Kerensky revealed his plans for Operation EXODUS, most of the base personnel chose to follow him and their SLDF comrades. The last commanding officer oversaw the efforts to conceal the installation and its defensive bunkers and load as much of the present supplies to their dropships. Parts of the installation holding gear deemed to dangerous were sealed off by controlled detonations and partial flooding, while vital parts of RICHELIEU were rigged to blow in case unauthorized parties attempted to access them.
It is not known whether the garrison managed to link up with Kerensky's EXODUS in time and what became of them or their families.
Coming up next: Pride and Punishment / Ma Belle's Long Reach
