Battletech Shattered Sphere: The Arcadian Free March

[Big Steve]

Ducal Palace
Roslyn, Eastern Islay
Arcadia
Arcadian Free March
12 October 3035


The months since returning home to Arcadia reminded Thomas more of his school days than his post-commissioning posting. Every day he'd help out with the Planning Staff if possible, watching his cousin Lord Alexander plan out the war that, it turned out, wasn't quite a war. Despite the losses, including that of an entire battalion of crack Arcadian Marines, the victory felt sweet enough, and the news from Solaris was encouraging as well. Thomas was, indeed, one of the few who knew OpForce Malleus' next assignment, word he was not going to share.

When he wasn't helping out there, he was attending seminars and meetings at the Foreign Office with the Military Liaison Staff, the joint AFFM/Foreign Office organization that maintained the necessity connections with allies, or potential allies, among other matters. While most of his work there was on preparing him to serve on Coventry in Archon Katrina's court, he was likewise educated on matters with their other allies, should he be assigned to Inarcs, Donegal, or Skye.

And yet, even with that, he still had social duties, in this case the formal arrival of the new Skye representative since Ambassador Endo's departure to see to her homeworld's liberation. The reception was due to begin soon and he'd be there in full uniform, complete with Order of the Liberator necklet and the Star of Bolan that Grand Princess Gita gave him for the fighting on Bolan. He hoped to get away with a minimum of suit-pressing by parents hopeful for prestige through their daughters being his wife.

He fit the last ribbon in place when there was a knock at the door of his personal suite. He left his bedroom for the living area. "Come in," he called, and watched Mark enter. His younger brother was in his own uniform, with the same commendations from Bolan, and a Captain's insignia. His right hand was in a glove and his left leg wasn't quite mobile while he was walking. "Mark."

"Tom." Mark's hand moved stiffly to salute. "Major. Sorry, my lack of discipline is telling, but I've been living outside of the life for over a year now. I got used to it."

Thomas returned it and shook his head. "No, I… I understand, Mark. I…" He swallowed. He hadn't seen Mark since his brother, badly wounded and with his survival still uncertain, was moved from the Liberator infirmary to the transport that carried him to Arcadia back in March of '34. "I'm happy you're well. Sorry I've not been up to the estate to see you."

"Ah. Well, you've been busy, and I know how hard it is to pull you from Fort Defiance," Mark answered. 'Truth is I used to be like that too."

"You were always eager to prove yourself."

"And you always seemed to do it without effort. I used to envy the hell of that."

Thomas gestured toward the chairs in his living room and Mark moved stiffly toward one. "I would offer a drink but I suspect we're both due at the reception."

"We'll have plenty there."

There was a difference in Mark, that much Thomas could see. Before, on those occasions they saw each other when duty allowed, his brother always vibrated with tension. A hunger to prove himself just as good as his older siblings and a worthy inheritor of the Proctor name. That was gone now. In its place was a kind of quiet resignation. "So, are they returning you to service?"

"In a staff capacity," Mark said. "Whatever doctors say about the prosthetics, I don't know if they'll let me be a combat pilot again. Not in a regular line unit. So I'll serve as best as I can in other respects."

"That's a shame, you're a damn fine MechWarrior."

"I like to think so." Mark sighed. "I still have the itch. Not just with my limbs but here." He tapped his right temple. "I want to suit up and just take a 'Mech out for a stroll. Feel the tremor of the legs tromping across the ground, look down at the fields… just to feel that power again."

"I believe I do." A bit of guilt crept into his voice. Just the other day Thomas got to take Liberator out on maneuvers with the 1st Militia Brigade. "Maybe in time the prosthetics will be advanced enough to let you pilot?"

"The doctors say they are now, but AFFM regs are AFFM regs, and they're not all written by doctors." Mark shrugged. "Either way, what's done is done. I had my shot at glory, and I did something, and now I've paid the cost and have to live with it the best I can. And that brings me to the news I received this morning."

"Oh?"

"I've been assigned to the Liaison Staff," Mark said. "They're sending me to Coventry as part of the mission. Administrative vice chief of staff for Colonel Hughes."

"Vice chief of staff?" Thomas shook his head.

Mark chuckled. "As much as the AFFM doesn't like to admit it, we have been shaped in part by the legacy of the Lyran Commonwealth. Bureaucratic overhead is part of that, I guess."

"So we'll be going to Coventry together." Thomas grinned slightly. "Well, at least I'll have someone to keep me company."

"I had the same thought," Mark replied.

 

[Big Steve]

4 November 3035


Hearing her father's stories growing up, Claire was prepared for the identity crisis that comes with living a legend. You start to become your cover in many ways, through routine, rote, all of the things that define daily lives. To escape that, agents like her might do anything from mental exercises to holding keepsakes that reminded them of a prior life.

Claire was no different, in the end, however much she convinced herself when young that she could avoid the need. No, a link back home was something to value, since she was hundreds of light years from Arcadia and the family home.

Her chosen keepsake was a small medallion, a St. Christopher's medal her mother owned and gave her when she came of age (and they'd had a screaming fight about her career plans). She didn't bring it to work, if only because it might draw attention she didn't want, and never wore it at home either, keeping it on the nightstand beside her bed. Only now, when she was alone, did she turn it in her hand over and over, feeling the metal surface and remembering her happy times as a little girl living near Ipswich, a village at the edge of the Plymouth Peninsula at the foot of the White Mountains. Her parents, Uncle Sam, Uncle Jesse, and Grandma… how she missed it all.

I chose this life. I chose it. I'm good at what my parents used to do.

Darla had a different life of course, and a different way of thinking. It was what made the medal so important, otherwise the conflict between Darla and Claire might become psychologically damaging.

Outside darkness had long fallen, and in the dim light of her room she looked over her noteputer. It'd taken a lot of effort to map out the facility, but she had the entire place laid out now. All that remained was the access from Smythe, and the security protocols meant that was something that had to wait until D Day.

Once I begin, there's no turning back. I either get what I've been sent for or the operation is a failure, she reminded herself, before checking everything yet again to make sure her plan and contingencies sounded right. Get access to the backups while Smythe is in possession them, swap them, depart without raising suspicion, get the data to the dead drop, and exfiltrate. Do it right and nobody will know what happened, Darla Kiner will just walk away one day, and given her mental condition, it will be easily explained.

And then she would be Claire Westin again, and go home to a grateful nation and, she expected, another assignment.

 

[Big Steve]

Open Space
Stewart System
Marik Commonwealth
17 August 3035


Melissa powered her Lightning through the enemy fire from the Charles Marik and spit her crosshairs directly onto one of the cruiser's naval autocannon emplacement. She had a bare second to fire at their respective velocities, but she did so with effect. The coilgun in her machine's nose sent a penetrator round through the weapon's damaged armor, striking vital machinery within, with the streams of emerald darts from her pulse lasers chewing through some of the remaining metal to further the damage. Within the guts of the weapon something went wrong and its emplacement ceased to turn and track. She twisted her flight stick and brought the Lightning into a breakaway, preparing to begin another attack run.

This gave her the sight of the approaching assault DropShips from the Guardian, bearing the 2nd Battalion of the 1st Marine Regiment. "Beginning terminal approach. Breaching forces ready."

"All fighters continue suppression," ordered a voice from the Liberator.

It really wasn't a fair fight. The wings of fighters from the Consolidant, New Commonwealth, and Free March were over eight hundred machines in raw numbers, counting the air groups for the eight regiments in the Arcadian force, and they'd already annihilated a dropper warship the Charles Marik deployed into the fight. The Mariks had almost no air power available, save a few wings from the surface that the Consolidant group was tasked with stopping. Even the mercenary fighters from the Gravediggers were taking part, though their machines were mostly Succession Wars-era models that lacked Star League technology. Two of those wings were now conducting their own strafing runs to prepare the way for the Liberator's marines should they need to board as well.

The Charles Marik was dying the death of a thousand cuts, and it was only a matter of time before she was caught or destroyed.

"25th, on me, we're making another run," she ordered into the tac-comm. He wingman of three years, Fariq al-Khomsi, gave an affirmation the other four pilots of the squadron echoed. The six LIghtning fighters turned and burned, keeping acceleration high to evade the remaining Marik weapon emplacements. Melissa targeted a light missile launcher this time, a short-range system, and with her squadron hit it with their main guns. Five penetrating rounds were accurate enough to strike the weapon or the supporting emplacement, wrecking the entire thing.

Ahead of them, the Marines' DropShips began to fix themselves to the cruiser. The boarding was about to commence.

Melissa noted the thermal spike on her systems, coming from the Charles Marik. What could that… oh no. "All fighters break off!" she called into the tac-comm. "25th, break off!" She swung the Lightning away from the Charles Marik and jammed her feet onto the pedals, forcing her fighter's fusion engine into max burn. Despite the intense G-forces this generated, she managed to shout, "Everyone break off! He's spiking his reactor!"

There was a babble over the allied tac-comm lines. Other fighters heeded, yet others didn't seem to, at least, not soon enough. The DropShips broke away from their intended target.

Too late.

Had Melissa's fighter been turned the other way, the sight would have blinded her. A brief shining star marked the passing of the Charles Marik and her defiant crew, preferring death to capture, and the wave of deadly light encompassed the fighters and craft around the ship. The energies of the short-lived star vaporized everything in immediate proximity and melted and broke material further away. Warning lights filled her cockpit as the energies bathed her Lightning, sloughing away armor and damaging control surfaces, electronics… everything. The lights in her fighter dimmed, went out, then finally came back. A glance told her how close she'd come to annihilation. "Everyone check in," she ordered.

One by one the other pilots of the 25th did so.

All except Fariq.

"Alpha 2, check in. Alpha 2, do you copy?" she asked, with increasing frantic fear. No. No, Fariq, not you too…

"Alpha 5 here," said a male voice with an Italian accent. Melissa recognized it as Flight Lieutenant Sergio Farucci. "I see Alpha 2, visual contact. His fighter's not in good shape, but I… yes… yes, I see movement in the cockpit. He's alive."

Thank you Lord. Thank you! Melissa let out a breath and tried to will the tears to go away. Not just at the near-loss of her wingman, but at the entire situation. She'd been within seconds of dying, as had her pilots.

A lot of ours just died, she thought. And it'll be on the heads of those in command.


AFMS Liberator


The entire crew on the command deck still waited to see if color would return to Admiral Andros' face. Her eyes were still fixed on what little remained of the Charles Marik… and those of her people they'd brought with them into death.

A battalion of our best Marines. Their ships. All those fighters that didn't get clear… I should have held them back longer. Made sure we cut the fuel lines to the reactor, or something…

"Admiral." A comm officer spoke up. "A signal from the Survivor's Guilt. General Hoyal wants to speak to you."

"This will be novel," she sighed, before nodding. "Put him on." She went quiet at the grizzled appearance of General Christopher Hoyal, owner and commanding officer of the Gravediggers mercenary unit. By reputation she knew that most of his long-standing people still called him "Colonel" despite his outfit now consisting of five regiments of 'Mechs, tanks, and infantry, plus an air group of four wings and a small fleet of DropShips and JumpShips. "General?" she asked politely.

"I just thought you should know my people have finished accounting for our losses," he said gruffly. A metal hand shined on his left arm, a limb he'd lost in war years ago. "My air group is down two wings, effectively. I'd like to know why you didn't give the order to break off and engage with your guns once the capital emplacements were suppressed."

"We were still trying to eliminate the weapons systems."

"You mean you were clearing the way so you could put Marines aboard and capture the ship." Hoyal's voice wasn't accusatory, but his eyes were coldly appraising her. "You send those men and women to die for that. Was it worth it?"

"Capturing a powerful cruiser that we could add to our fleet? Yes, General, it was," she said firmly. "It was a calculated risk and I made it. It went bad, and I'll have to live knowing I sent hundreds of our people to their deaths. Yours too. I'll die knowing it too, and I'm sure I'll have to answer for it. But I'd still make the decision if I had the same information as before."

"Right." The mercenary commander nodded. "Well, just as long as you remember that our lives aren't cheap, I suppose I've got nothing further to say. Survivor's Guilt out."

The call ended. Admiral Andros sighed and rested her forehead in her hand. God help me, I would make the same call again, wouldn't I?

The answer, of course, was "Yes".

 

[Big Steve]

The Orchy River Valley
Angus Continent
Stewart
Marik Commonwealth
15 September 3035


Missiles streaked through the air before several slammed into Dani's 'Mech, alerting her to the approaching Marik Trebuchet. While she had twenty tons on the Marik machine, its double LRM15 launchers made it an appreciable threat, particularly given the armor damage she'd already taken to her Mad Cat. She turned her 'Mech's torso-mounted weapons on the 'Mech and fired. Twin bolts of cerulean energy speared through the air before striking home on the medium-weight BattleMech.

It wasn't alone, of course. It approached in the company of other machines, all of which were pouring fire into the 1st Battalion's Command Company and portions of C Company. The rest of the battalion was on the other side of the rise, already engaged with a different group of Marik troops, while along the entire valley Marik made an attempt to block the 8th Strikers' overland advance on Inveraray, the regional hub for this quadrant of Angus.

The Trebuchet fired a laser barrage her way, the Marik pilot spiking their heat in the process. The 'Mech moved, as if to evade, and for good reason given the missiles and submunitions that stripped armor from it. Rachel's Tanatis followed up with a blast of its own ER PPC that blew a hole through the Trebuchet.

Dani redirected her efforts to an approaching Orion, and for good reason. The Orion's hip-mounted weapon fired, and the size and power of the resulting barrage revealed it to be 20-rated autocannon. The shots chewed into the hip of the Tanatis, stripping enough armor to lay bare the actuator underneath. The Orion's pilot fired a succession of emerald laser shots, one of which struck at the unprotected joint and fused part of it, partially-disabling the leg on Rachel's 'Mech. A moment later she triggered a full alpha strike of her own weapons. Four emerald beams flayed armor from the Orion's right arm and torso while the PPC shots struck home on the rest of the torso.

The reply was a flight of short-range missiles, sixteen in all, and guided by more than the usual targeting package. All but two made impact on Dani's battered 'Mech, blasting away not just armor but pieces of the inside myomer and metal frame and bone. Warning lights flashed over her machine's damage indicators.

She pushed the Mad Cat into a run to her right, twisting the torso as she did so she could direct more fire at the Orion. Her heat flared again, well into the yellow range, at another shot with most of her weapons. Her movement threw her aim off a little, but this time she hit home, damaging the missile launcher built into the Orion's left arm with a laser shot while the other weapon hits took more armor from the machine. The cockpit heat felt stifling in its weight, the only relief being the cool sensation coursing over her courtesy of her suit's coolant lines.

The heat didn't have time to dissipate. The autocannon on the Orion's hip roared again, and this time she was the target. The shells tore through the right side of her 'Mech's torso, shredding armor and internal structure. The connection to her right arm took some of the damage with the limb's control indicator turning red, marking the control as impaired but not lost. She maneuvered to put her stronger armor toward the Orion, just for its lasers to lash out. The first two hit home before she could cover the wound sufficiently. Her display put up an engine damage warning; part of the fusion vessel was damaged, specifically the coolant regulator. Her 'Mech's heat spiked further while the systems struggled to control the heat increase from the fusion plant. Coolant spilled like blood from the wound in the machine. Even moreso, her right-side PPC was now putting up a capacitor failure; it'd been damaged as well.

She turned to cover her wounded side with her intact one. Firing only half of her complement, she delighted to see the left arm of the Orion go flying off, severed by her PPC.

Ten missiles corkscrewed their way through the air at her. Seven landed home, blasting away more armor but doing no more apparent damage… none, that is, until the heat spike from the engine worsened. One of the missile's payloads hit her engine, damaging it further. Not good, she thought to herself while the heat continued to bake her in her cockpit. She triggered her lasers again, to no effect, while waiting for the PPC capacitor to recharge. Any second the autocannon would fire again…

Nearly forty missiles slammed into the Orion's right side and leg. Chunks of armor flew off all along the big war machine, after which four emerald beams scourged yet more armor and fused the Orion's right knee together. Dani noted on her systems that Becca's Strider Hawk was in range for her lasers. Given her 'Mech's relative paucity of heat sinks, a trade-off for its fire support role and sheer weapon tonnage, it had to be baking her alive as well. "Command 4, you're risking an explosion," she warned over the comm link.

There was no answer.

The Orion had an answer, though, as its autocannon roared yet again. The missile barrage threw off the pilot's aim, but not enough to miss. The shells blew armor and endo-steel from the left leg of Dani's 'Mech, snapping the chicken leg's reverse knee like a twig. Dani let out a surprised cry as her machine toppled to the left. She fought in vain to keep the 'Mech from falling that way, but couldn't quite manage it, exposing her weakened right side in the process. Her heart fluttered from the fear it brought, the realization that her enemy needed only one good shot to finish her 'Mech and, perhaps, finish her.

The Orion pilot took the shot. Missiles flew in at her exposed right torso…

...and detonated against the left arm of Alex Penton's Paladin, tearing it off at the elbow.

Two ER PPC blasts, one from Alex's torso-mounted weapon and another, presumably, from Rachel's left arm weapon, converged on the Orion, scourging much of its remaining armor on its damaged torso. Dani got a look at Alex's machine, enough of one to see he'd been in the thick of it too; his other arm was a charred, blown out wreck. He wouldn't take a hit from the autocannon either.

She managed to roll the Mad Cat back enough to free the left arm and clear the PPC on that side as well. Her crosshairs shifted to show the weapons could be aimed again, and aimed they were on the Orion in question. She squeezed the trigger. Emerald light and a bolt of cerulean particles wreathed the right side of the Orion, tearing through structure until the entire side came apart. Critical engine damage caused the 'Mech to topple over.

"Thanks, Command 1," Alex said over the commlink. "Sit tight, we'll get a crew out soon."

"I'm not going anywhere," Dani sighed. That was the closest call I've ever had, she thought. Even closer than Bolan. I almost died here. I would have. Her eyes fixed on the battered 'Mechs of Captain Penton and Lieutenant Vallejo. But that's why it's good to have comrades you can rely on.



The Marik units fell back, retreating down-river in good order, and relieving the 1st from the hard fight for the moment. No longer fighting for his life, Alex took stock of the damage. A lucky shot (for the other side) blew up his Gauss Rifle and he lost the other arm shielding Dani Verdes, but he still had the ER PPC on his left shoulder as a weapon. Not that I should take this into another fight if I can avoid it, I need a repair bay too.

Just because their fight was over didn't mean the battle was, of course. Alex considered the holographic map he brought up on his display, showing real-time tactical data from the rest of the unit. To their south the 1st Free March Cavalry were taking another beating, just like on Bainsville. The Gravediggers were coming up further down and might take the heat off, but they had some tough terrain to get through and the Mariks had detachments holding critical roads and passes. If we can get to Inveraray, we can force them to retreat back toward Perth. It'd take the heat off the 1st FMC.

"At this rate the regiment will be in tatters before we get there," he said aloud into his private command channel with the other battalion commanders, XOs, and Brigadier Sinclair. "We need another approach."

"A combat command from the Proctor Light Horse is coming up to assist," Sinclair remarked, words carefully chosen on the off-chance their encryption was broken.

Alex could see where they were, to the north. They're one of the best at rapid maneuver, but they'll be cutting through the Campbell Mountain Range, a lot of places Marik can hold them up there… He examined the map more closely and a grin formed on his face. "Brigadier, 3rd Battalion, they've slipped up toward the village of Aviemore, right?"

"So I'm… ah…" He could hear the realization in Sinclair's voice. "Good catch, Major. Colonel Nichols, new orders. Northbound passage, sector nine."

"Understood, sir," Nichols answered, recognizing the coded reference to just what Sinclair was ordering, and it was the same Alex had in mind. 3rd Battalion's position allowed them to bypass Aviemore and, with speed, hook around the Marik line on the north and plunge for Inveraray. So long as 2nd Battalion and their air support kept the Marik companies south of Aviemore pinned in place, nothing could stop Nichols' 'Mechs and following battle armor from marching right up to Inveraray.

While the 1st regrouped and waited for relief from the Dar-es-Salaam Cavalry, Alex kept an eye on the other units' maneuvers. The hour plus of tense waiting was rewarded when Nichols and two of her companies burst through the lines south of Aviemore, rushing headlong for the enemy field HQs at Inveraray. The result was as predicted: Marik abandoned lines along the Orchy, rushing backward, but they wouldn't get to Inveraray in time. With the 1st Dar-es-Salaam Cavalry coming up to take the 8th's place in line and the Gravediggers moving to take the pressure off the 1st FMC, the fight for western Angus, indeed the whole continent, was effectively over.

Once Nichols was reporting from Inveraray, he received a private 'Mech-to-'Mech link from Chappy. The older man appeared, clad in a cooling suit and in his own machine. "That was quick thinking, Major Penton. Just as I expected to see from you. I'm going to make sure you get your credit for this action."

"Thank you sir," Alex answered. Not that it'll stop the lawyer jokes, he thought wryly. But maybe they'll like me a little bit more now...

 

[Big Steve]

The Moors, Paltos Continent
Atreus
Marik Commonwealth
28 November 3035


Weapons fire blazed through the fens of Paltos with sharp intensity, felling the trees and setting fires in the underbrush. The native and transplanted wildlife of Atreus fled from the onrushing 'Mechs and vehicles of the 8th Marik Militia, their pilots eager to complete the rout of the invading regiment.

On paper the Proctor Light Horse was the more skilled regiment than the Marik Militia, but the Moors were the perfect terrain for the Marik forces to ambush the light regiment in. Their heavier 'Mechs allowed for volume of fire that made up for the evasiveness of light 'Mechs in the hands of the Arcadian veterans, and while no unit of the Light Horse had been outright destroyed yet, all three battalions were suffering significant losses as they rushed back to the DropShips with which they'd invaded Paltos. Their DropShips' guns would give them some cover, at least, although it remained to be seen if the 8th Marik Militia's numbers might cause them loss as well.

Among the units trying to hold the rear line was Bravo Lance, C Company, 3rd Battalion. A fast hunter-killer lance of one Guerrilla and a trio of Jaegers, Bravo Lance was built in particular for rapid maneuver, not an easy thing in the Moors.

Lance Lieutenant Korra Varney, of Togwotee, twisted her humanoid machine to the left to track an oncoming Vulcan, a dangerous short-ranged 'Mech. With the range extreme for the arm-mounted medium lasers, the Vickers-Armstrong Mk. 10, her right hand tensed only on the trigger finger for the torso-mounted PPC. The discharge of lethal particles resembled a twirling bolt of lightning, more fluid than the coherent beam of a laser, which created a shower of sparks and particles when it struck the Vulcan square in the shoulder.

A smaller bolt struck as well, from Lieutenant Asami Sato's Jaeger, armed with a light-weight PPC in the central torso that sacrificed weight and power for range. A third shot, from Lieutenant Bolin Jin's Jaeger -2A variant, employed the same Vickers-Armstrong Mk. 5 PPC that Korra's Guerrilla mounted, scourging armor from the hip of another Marik 'Mech, an Assassin. The last of their lance, Lieutenant Mako Jin, was out of engagement range, as his Jaeger, the -2B, utilized short-range missiles as its main armament.

"Fire Company, where's our support?" demanded the voice of Captain DiMartino, the CO of Company C.

"We're under fire from Marik Trebuchet and Catapult 'Mechs," answered his counterpart, Captain Hendricks, who oversaw the fire support BattleMechs of that company, mostly Hwachas and a couple upgraded Trebuchets. "If we turn to engage now they'll take us out."

"If you don't fire we're going to lose half of Company C!"

A flurry of autocannon shells stripped armor from Korra's 'Mech, sending several damage indicators red and giving a fault for the active scanning probe that allowed the Guerrilla to function as a scout as well as a hunter-killer. Her sensors soon showed her why: among the approaching enemy units was a Centurion, with its deadly Luxor Autocannon/10, and a pilot who was a good enough gunner to overcome the ECM systems that actively interfered with enemy targeting systems. As if to make clear the great danger the machine represented, ten long range missiles rained down on her position. Most missed, but three made impact and blew away pieces of armor that were already dangerously thin from prior battle damage.

The Vulcan presented its own threat, given the Flamers and other short-range weapons it employed, and Mako brought his 'Mech up to face it. While he was at maximum range for his missiles, he fired them regardless, and four of the flight of twelve made impact. The damage it took was sustainable for the moment and the Marik machine continued its inexorable approach, its arsenal threatening to overheat any of the machines it fought with constant plasma-fueled flame.

The Assassin wasn't quiet either. This was a model with a large laser, and the sapphire beam cut like a scalpel through the damaged arm of Bolin's Jaeger, melting endo-steel bone until the lower half of the arm dropped from the light 'Mech. It was, at least, not his primary weapon arm, which he brought back up to fire another lightning bolt into the Assassin's shoulder, blasting away much of the armor plate in that section.

That gave Asami the opening needed to bring her other weapon to bear. Her Jaeger's big gun wasn't the Light PPC she'd employed earlier, but rather an arm-mounted large pulse laser. Instead of a single coherent blue beam, this weapon fired a stream of pulses, dart-like in their appearance, that stitched their way across the Assassin's torso and into the wound in the torso. The adjacent arm went limp.

Between the approaching Vulcan, the wounded Assassin, and the dangerous Centurion looking ever closer, Korra picked the second as her priority. Tactics 101: concentrate fire and put an enemy down. She aligned her targeting crosshairs, let the tracking systems make the calculations for movement before signalling a hard lock, and fired everything. The heat level in her Guerrilla spiked, but her aim was spot on. The medium lasers carved armor and structure from the 'Mech's wounds while the PPC blast smashed in the entire side of the Assassin, exposing its core for Bolin to fire his weapon into. Cerulean energy blasted through the Assassin's heart. Smoke and plasma billowed briefly from the new injury before it toppled.

The Centurion's arm cannon fired again, this time spitting deadly shells all over Bolin's Jaeger as he stood exposed between trees. This time his right side took the hit, one shell explosion sending shrapnel into the hip actuator to partially lame the machine. "Oh, this isn't good!" he called out.

The Centurion and Vulcan alone were going to be a pain, but there were more contacts coming up the path from the other side. Marik units, undoubtedly looking to break through and strike at the Light Horse LZ.

If only we had room to maneuver. Korra examined the holotank's imagery of their surroundings. They were on one of the dry paths, but to either flank were the fens, the marshy, muddy sections that even a 'Mech could get stuck in, and with their armor shot up they'd get flooded quickly. Still, the trees there were thicker…

"Everyone, to the right, enter the marsh!" she called out.

They had every right to question her, but they didn't. As a unit they made the turn, exchanging fire with the two enemy 'Mechs as they did. LRMs from a Marik Catapult stripped a few chunks of armor from Asami's Jaeger before she got her machine into the thicket.

There was little room to maneuver well here, and mud and water coated the legs of their machines as they descended into the marshy terrain. Given the damages they couldn't go any deeper, but at least their 'Mechs would fight cooler, and with the cover enemy fire was far less effective. LRMs rained down around them to little effect but to send splinters everywhere. Korra tried to not imagine how deadly such splinters would be to any of them if they had to flee their 'Mechs.

The Vulcan, given its short-range capabilities, plowed in. The pilot was a reckless one and had little qualm about using his 'Mech's Flamers in the confined space, setting underbrush and trees alight in the effort to get a solid shot on any of them. But here the cover protected them. She was further protected since her Guerrilla's ECM interfered with sensors, keeping the Vulcan from getting an exact fix.

Short range gave her disadvantages, as it interfered with the targeting systems for the PPC, but she did have one other option. The kind she and other light 'Mech pilots could pull off, with a lot of careful training.

As soon as she had a clear line of sight on the Vulcan, she fired her jump jets to leave the water. She let off in mid-air and brought the Guerrilla's right arm up, the hand made into a fist. She brought it down on the Vulcan's weaker rear armor, smashing metal and internal structure.

The Vulcan pilot turned to bring their weapons to bear, a battery of flamers and medium lasers that at close range could be quite lethal. Korra brought the Guerrilla into an evasive spin, like a mixed martial arts fighter evading a coming blow, and crouched the machine. She swept the left leg just over the surface of the muddy water, catching the Vulcan's legs with the maneuver. While the relevant mass and elements were different, it was no different than similar leg sweep between two hand-to-hand combatants. The Vulcan pilot wasn't able to plant their 'Mech's legs well enough to avoid being swept over. They fell backward and landed in the water and muck. It seemed into the machine's open wound, ruining electrical machinery within and disabling that entire side of the machine. Korra stood her machine back up and placed pinpoint laser shots into the heart of the Vulcan before stomping on it, both to keep it down and to allow time for the water to work further into the wounded torso. She was rewarded when, within ten seconds, her systems showed the Vulcan as an inert machine, its fusion engine disabled by muck and slime.

She had about three seconds to celebrate before the autocannon shells ripped through the Guerrilla's torso, followed by twin spears of emerald light. Her engine put up damage indicators and her systems verified the ECM systems were gutted. She'd lost her reduced profile on sensors and the engine damage meant both reduced movement and greater heat buildup.

The autocannons weren't all. Long range missiles had trouble acquiring in close range, but they could still explode on impact, and two such missiles struck her Guerrilla. One only blasted armor from her left arm, but the other hit her weakened leg armor and blasted out some of the knee actuator's machinery, freezing the limb up.

Despite the limp, Korra brought her wounded 'Mech around to face the Centurion, which was already ducking behind a tree. She went toward her own and barely evaded a laser shot as it briefly got a bead on her again. I don't have the speed to get away!

Luckily, she didn't need it.

The moment the Centurion rounded a tree and tried to get a bead on her, it took twelve short-range missiles to the back. Mako's Jaeger fired emerald light into the machine, one beam cutting across the rear shoulder like a scalpel while a stream of emerald pulses stitched their way down the damaged back armor. The Centurion pilot turned, looking to track him, just for Bolin's Jaeger to hobble out from behind another tree and fire. More pulse lasers chewed armor from the autocannon-bearing arm of the machine, setting up the PPC blast to arrive an instant later and blast through the elbow actuator, fusing it in place and leaving the autocannon immobile.

The Centurion's pilot kept some poise, keeping the machine moving and trying to get back into cover. They threw a wicked punch that knocked Mako's Jaeger back before he could shower the Marik fighter with more SRMs and scrambled for cover.

The last Jaeger of the group, Asami's, dropped down on the Centurion, which was a mere meter or so from having its head module caved in by the Jaeger's foot. The impact knocked the Centurion over onto its back into the muck. After a moment to right her own 'Mech Asami's handless left arm came up, pointing the barrel of the large pulse laser within toward the heart of the medium-weight 'Mech. Sapphire pulses bored into the armor and structural members of the Centurion and the goop of the Moors followed the resulting path, suffocating the exposed fusion plant within. The Marik 'Mech's energy signature died.

"Everyone, status," Korra said into the lance tac-comm.

"Leg's busted, but my jets are still good," Bolin answered first.

"Armor and internal damage, nothing out of action," Mako added.

"Surface damage mostly, some internals," replied Asami.

"Bravo 2, Bravo 3, you're in the best shape. Fall back, we'll follow as best as we can."

"But if they catch—"

There was no time to register the complaint. Missiles flew in, coming from the dry path, and as they detonated it was clear their payloads weren't normal. Not when the superheated flames spread out into the fens and the trees, igniting everything.

They're trying to burn us out! That realization aside, it was clear they couldn't remain. Korra jammed her feet down on the pedals for her jump jets, triggering them to fire and lift her into the air. The others followed, flying up to the top of the tree canopies, often having to make mid-air corrections to avoid collisions. Jump by jump they got away from the spreading fire until they came out onto a side route of the dry path. Korra noted the incoming missiles and checked their origin.

Marik 'Mechs. Heavies. An entire company of Orions, Grasshoppers, and Catapults, with a couple other designs amongst them.

I'm dead. The thought went through Korra's mind like a thunderbolt. There'd be no eventual return to her hometown on Togwotee, no more opportunities to visit places great and small across the Inner Sphere. Her lance was worn down, damaged, and facing enough firepower to destroy them several times over. "Bravo 2, Bravo 3, pull back. We can't buy you a lot of time, but we'll do what we can."

"I'm not leaving you," Mako insisted.

"We're not."

"That's an order," she insisted, even as her systems warned of an active target lock. One of the enemy machines was acquiring her.

That was when the first missiles rained down onto the Marik heavies.

One moment they were facing twelve enemy 'Mechs along the stretch of dry path. The next, dozens of LRMs were slamming into the 'Mechs and the ground around them, uncountable in their number. The Marik 'Mechs staggered as each took repeated hits, a couple falling from the sheer quantity of missiles striking them.

Only for a moment did Korra think that Fire Company was finally coming through; their machines couldn't be responsible for this display, they simply didn't have enough missile launchers. Her holotank told her the origin as it recorded friendly IFFs in the air above: a squadron of Condor assault bombers from the orbiting carriers that continued to rain deadly LRM barrages on the Mariks.

"Our air support's bought us time," she said into the lance commlink. "Let's get back to the LZ." She hit the pedals again, catapulting the battered Guerrilla into the air and away from the enemy 'Mechs getting pulverized by the rain of lethal missile fire.

 

[Big Steve]

Interstellar Botanical Gardens
Atreus City
Atreus
Marik Commonwealth
10 December 3035


Princess Amita's fingers tensed once more on the triggers of her control joysticks, firing her pulse lasers and normal lasers into the heart of the faltering Warhammer. The machine, painted in the colors of the Palace Guard, fell over, the gyro within helplessly compromised by damage. Amita noted the pilot was alive and refocused her attention on the rest of her environment while the 2nd Battalion of the Arcadian Guards continued their sweep of the area.

The sight was depressing, and it brought back bad memories. Even on Bolan the Interstellar Botanical Gardens were known and admired for their natural beauty. Now, the state of devastation it was in from the last stand of the Marik Palace Guard made her think of the Royal Menagerie back in Bolan City. Whatever the thrice-damned Marians had converted it into now, it had once been just as lovely, just as beautiful, with all sorts of rare flora and select fauna that her family took pride in amassing.

I remember Chanda. Her mind recalled the snow leopard from Kamenz, one of the native species there that occasionally showed strong evolutionally parallels to similar Earth animals. He'd arrived as a kitten when she was a child, part of a litter, and was a serene old cat before the end. Before she quietly fed him a scrap of his favorite meat laced with a discreet poison, allowing the beast to fall asleep forever and die peacefully instead of whatever bloody fate the Marians would have brought him. Tears formed in her eyes at the memories from Bolan and all the destruction wrought there, all of the prized history of her family lost… and now, now they were doing it here, to these people. She was fighting to expand Arcadia's empire, not to liberate her homeworld. The gods themselves seemed to be mocking her.

I am sworn to serve, she reminded herself. I am kshatriya, and I must honor the oath we swore to serve our rescuers. House Proctor demands this world be conquered, so I shall conquer it!

"Captain." The voice was that of her Lance Lieutenant, Koji Ishikawa, an Ainu from Seftenberg. His Mad Cat (MD-CPT-1) stomped up beside hers, the slower model with the extended range lasers in the arms and twin fire control-aided LRM15 launchers on the shoulders that gave the machine its iconic look of "a Catapult with Marauder arms". "We've secured the garden grounds. All enemy machines accounted for."

"Well done," she replied, speaking to her company on their tac-comm channel. "Report damages and await further orders." Her eyes turned toward the shape in the near distance of House Marik's refurbished palace. She noted the explosions erupting from the palace grounds. Our comrades in the 8th Striker have pushed on as well, it seems.




The courtyard of the Marik Palace was a graveyard of broken 'Mechs, most of them Marik but a couple of fallen machines from the 8th Striker's 1st Battalion. One of the 'Mechs still standing was a colossal Atlas with the Autocannon/20 on its hip. The same autocannon blazed shells that tore through the arm of Lieutenant Rachel Vallejo's Tanatis, nearly ripping it off given the prior battle damage.

She brought the other arm up. Her autocannon fired, spraying cluster rounds that stripped armor from half of the enemy machine's body parts. The laser housed above the right hand sparked visibly from one of the submunitions going off within its protective covering, knocking the weapon out. She squeezed her triggers rapidly, but with the range so close her PPC failed to properly acquire and the shot went wide, blasting a scorch mark across the ground and into the broken husk of a Marik Clint. The short range missiles had more luck, all six hitting and taking chunks of armor from the colossal 'Mech.

The Atlas pilot retaliated with the lasers on his arms, sending twin emerald beams into the Tanatis' torso followed quickly by another two. Short range missiles crashed into her 'Mech and knocked her around, the sheer amount of damage nearly toppling the Tanatis.

She was so worried about the Atlas that she missed the Trebuchet swinging around from its position along the far wall. Sensing an opportunity, the Trebuchet's pilot fired a full salvo of missiles from optimum range. Only a few missed, the rest exploding and sending debris spraying into the finely-cut lawn and fine ferro-crete below them. At least four of the missiles crashed into her damaged left arm, blasting through the endo-steel bone until the limb, and its ER PPC, fell away.

The 'Mech nearly toppled with that change to its center of gravity and mass. To right herself Rachel stomped the jump jet pedals, sending the Tanatis into the air just in time to avoid a salvo from the Atlas. She brought her 'Mech down onto the ferro-crete, still off-balance but at least standing. She twisted the torso until it faced the Atlas, already turning toward her, and triggered hre remaining weapons.

This time solid slugs tore armor from the Atlas, as she was out of cluster rounds, while four of six SRMs connected and inflicted damage as well. Her concentration was paramount, and it kept her 'Mech just on-balance enough to keep moving.

To her surprise, the Atlas fired its LRMs.

The range was too close for them to properly acquire, much less to arm, but regardless several hit her, and half of those actually detonated.

Suddenly the world shook like nothing she'd known before. A ferocious force knocked her 'Mech onto its left side with such impact that it threw her against the harness of her command couch with rib-smashing force. She grimaced at the pain filling her torso and tried to will her machine back up. Her eyes passed over the damage indicator, confirming the worst: the Atlas LRMs had set off her remaining autocannon ammunition. Even with most of the rounds gone, the resulting explosion gutted the entire right side of the Tanatis 'Mech, fatally damaging the XL engine at the heart of her machine and prompting its safety shutdown - the reason she wasn't atoms now. Only battery power kept the few displays still showing active. "Command 4 here, I'm in trouble!" she cried out. "I'm down!"

Outside the cockpit, the Atlas raised its fist toward her, as if to crush her in her cockpit out of bloodymindedness.

All she could do was scream as the fist came down…

...and missed.



Alex's shot was one of the best he ever made, and it was right on target. Autocannon shells from his replacement Paladin's left-arm autocannon - his 'Mech damaged on Stewart had to be sent back to Arcadia to be rebuild - slammed into the Atlas, a double-loaded shot that the "Ultra" series autocannons were capable of, accompanied by the sapphire beam of the torso-mounted large laser and the twin emerald beams of the other two lasers. The attack threw the monster 'Mech's arm off, causing it to slam into the left side of Rachel's downed 'Mech instead of her vulnerable cockpit. The Atlas pilot fought to keep his machine standing, buying time for Alex to close the distance.

The Trebuchet that helped bring Rachel down was already aiming at him, but it wouldn't get the chance to fire. Becca's Strider Hawk, still on the other side of the palace wall, still had the range and their networked sensors to give her a shot, and forty long range missiles rained down on the Trebuchet. Dani's rebuilt Mad Cat soared over the wall on a trail of jump jet fire, blasting the medium fire support 'Mech so hard that the entire left side exploded.

He had mere seconds to recognize their maneuver, as he was in range to employ the Paladin -2Sa's physical weapon. The sword, courtesy of samples recovered at the beginning of the year from Cajamarca, and the Antisuyu's research into alloys capable of cutting through armor, shined in the sunset light of Atreus' sun, and its broadsword shape was fitting given the aesthetics of Alex's 'Mech. He swung and watched sparks fly from the wound he carved into the Atlas's torso, only barely missing its LRM launcher. The pilot twisted his hip enough to fire, and the autocannon rounds tore through the left side of Alex's 'Mech, shredding the remaining armor in that section and hitting his engine. Smoke billowed briefly from the wound and his heat spiked well into the yellow range, slowing him down. Can't let it get too much hotter in here or my ammo will cook, he thought.

While his 'Mech's built-in heat sinks shifted heat out into the environment, Alex turned the Paladin, evading a laser shot and driving the 'Mech's sword across the right side of the Atlas. He cursed the near miss of the AC/20 that had just caused him such harm, but there was no time to dwell on it. The pilot tried another close-range LRM barrage, tracking him as the missiles flew in a series of four salvoes of five. Their inability to acquire him meant most missed, and only two of five that hit actually exploded and damaged armor. An emerald laser carved armor from his left arm, so he returned the favor with another double shot from the Autocannon. The double burst of shells blew into the Atlas's torso, doing no immediate damage but leaving it increasingly vulnerable.

This time he was just fast enough, despite the damaged engine, to evade the AC/20's next shot, the powerful rounds blasting through the ferro-crete and grass behind him. Caught up int he moment, Alex let out a cry of effort while swinging his right arm up and slashing the sword across the muzzle of the Atlas's most powerful weapon.

This time, he connected, and the sword cut cleanly into the barrel and through the cannon's firing mechanism. He felt a surge of triumph.

It was short-lived, as the left arm of the enemy 'Mech came swinging in. He barely moved in time to prevent the punch from smashing into the damaged right side of his torso, instead taking the blow directly to the Paladin's mostly-unblemished sternum. He brought the right arm up and made a swiping cut that slashed another chunk of armor from the offending arm.

The other arm came swinging in, and this time he couldn't stop it from smashing into his weakened torso. It crushed his large laser port, destroying the weapon, and ripped a hole clean through. Damage indicators lit up, warning him that the entire left side of the Paladin was structurally unsound. Even a small hit there would finish him.

He brought the sword back and lifted his left arm, pointing the autocannon directly at the Atlas's head before firing.

Click.

Red letters appeared on his HUD. Ammunition jam detected.

Emerald beams, the remaining lasers on the Atlas, carved into the Paladin, and he only barely kept them from slicing open his exposed engine core. The damage went into the right side of his 'Mech, sloughing off armor and damaging his sword. He stabbed back with it, trying to hit the head again, just to only skid the blade through more of the torso armor. The damage was useful, but it wasn't the one-hit knockout blow he needed.

Twin sprays of particle fire smashed into the Atlas from his left side, the tell-tale sign of a new snub-nosed PPC being fired. That told him who his rescuer was a moment before Colonel Pierce's new Viking 'Mech came in swinging, the triple-strength myomer aboard briefly activated by the heat spike of his weapons, and allowing the hatchet in the Viking 'Mech's right hand to smash deep into the Atlas' right torso. The remaining armor there failed, exposing the internals of the 'Mech.

Including the ammo bin for the autocannon.

Alex fired his jumpjets to get some distance, and to place his right side to shield Rachel's fallen machine. Pierce, likewise, pulled his machine back, while Alex's remaining lasers stabbed at the wound. One shot hit intact armor along the Atlas's hip, melting it away but causing no other significant damage.

The other emerald beam struck the ammo bin.

The resulting explosion caught both Arcadian 'Mechs with a shockwave, inflicting minor damage. Especially minor given the gutted ruin of the Atlas. It was still intact, given the ammo bin hadn't been particularly full, but the entire right side of the machine was a mess of twisted and broken and blackened metal.

With an eye on escalated heat, Alex focused his crosshairs on the wound and triggered, in sequence, his remaining lasers. The heat filled his machine, causing the coolant circulating through his suit to become more vibrant to his senses, but his eyes were on the emerald beams that carved into the wounded Atlas's side.

Bullseye.

Granted, even as he fired, a bolt of twisting cerulean lightning blew into the broken assault 'Mech's chest, and as the machine toppled he glanced toward his CO. "I guess we're sharing credit for that kill, huh?"

"That we are, Major," Pierce said. "Good job."

Alex checked his systems. There were no signs of enemy contacts showing on the system. "Looks like we got them all."

"Colonel Hauser and Colonel Hawk have their troops in the palace now, but we're clear out here. Go ahead and get back to the Axalon, Major. And pick Lieutenant Vallejo up, I want the medics to look her over."

"Will do, sir," he answered, moving his mauled 'Mech over to the fallen Tanatis.

 

[Big Steve]

Field Manual: Arcadian Free March Updates - 3036


Unit Updates


Arcadian Guards

Campaigns: Cajamarca, Washburn, Stewart, Atreus

The Arcadian Guards have had a busy year, including participating in the capture of not one but two capital worlds of former FWL Successor States, including taking Atreus City in the final month of the year. They've not taken significant losses in the campaign, at least, and as the year ends the unit is preparing for a final showdown with the 2nd Marik Guards on the continent of Corin.


Unit Changes:

The veteran light aerospace pilots of the Arcadian Guards Aerospace Group are now considered elite.



Arcadian Rangers

Campaigns: Cajamarca, Rasalas, Stewart, Atreus

After leading the way onto the collapsing capital of the former realm of the Yupanqui, the Arcadian Rangers saw to the taking of Rasalas and joined OpForce Malleus in its assaults on Stewart and Atreus itself.

Unit Changes:

The Arcadian Rangers Armored Infantry Battalion is being reactivated as of 1 January 3036.


1st Free March Cavalry

Campaigns: Shasta, Bainsville, Stewart

After nine months of rest following the Bolan Rescue Operation and the activation of O'Brien's Irish Lancers, the 1st Cavalry joined the frantic campaigning of 3035 in action alongside the new 8th Strikers Regiment. Hard fighting against Marik line units on Bainsville resulted in tough losses, and further casualties in the fight for Stewart resulted in the unit needing to be left behind to garrison that world instead of joining the descent on Atreus.

Unit Changes:
The losses on Bainsville were such that O'Brien's Irish Lancers are now considered inactive and will be restored in 3037. A light fighter wing was also considered lost.


Proctor Light Horse

Campaigns: Cajamarca, Washburn, Stewart, Atreus

As always the Light Horse were quick to take the field, fighting in three quarters of the year. On Atreus they faced their hardest fight in years, suffering significant losses against the 8th Marik Militia after being bogged down in the Moors of Paltos.

Unit Changes:
Due to losses to all units, 1st Battalion is considered inactive until replacements can be mustered through 3036.


Bolan Heavy Guards

Campaigns: Colfax, Niihau, Stewart, Atreus

These battle-hardened Bolanese pilots have fought the entire year for their new nation, securing former worlds of the Kashamarka Antisuyu and aiding in the war against Marik. Their infantry will be reassigned to them in the new year after spending 3035 suppressing an insurgency on Colfax by diehard members of the garrison there.


8th Strikers

Campaigns: Shasta, Bainsville, Stewart, Atreus

In their first year back on the rolls, the Sunhawks have proven their mettle. Following the surrender of Shasta they put down the Marik kampfgruppe that attempted to hold Bainsville and saw hard fighting on Stewart and Atreus. In the final month of the year they joined the Arcadian Guards in the capture of Atreus City itself.

Unit Changes:

The 8th Aerial Striker Battalion was rendered hors d'combat on Bainsville. It will be reconstituted by new musters in 3036.


1st Dar-es-Salaam Cavalry

Campaigns: Escobas, Rasalas, Stewart, Atreus

Rebuilt and upgraded, the Sword of the Faithful were ready for war, joining in the securing of the old Kashamarkan heartland before plunging into fights with Marik forces for the rest of the year. They've not suffered significant losses and are eager to see the completion of the conquest of Atreus.


Bolan Hussars

Campaigns: Cascade, Preston, Zortman, Atreus

Upgraded and trained up for line duty, the Bolan Hussars and their attached Arcadian support forces spent much of the year securing worlds of the former Dixie Salient of the Kashamarka Antisuyu. They were called to join the invasion of Atreus, which has proceeded smoothly.


Bolan Rangers

Campaigns: Cascade, Thermopolis, Paradise, Mundrabilla

These combat-drop trained raiders spent their first year in service to the Free March securing former Kashamarkan worlds, culminating with winning over the garrison on Mundrabilla.


Bolan Cavalry

Campaigns: Cascade, Thermopolis, Paradise, Mundrabilla

The Bolan Cavalry was involved in the surrenders of two worlds and fighting on two others. Hard fighting on Paradise cost the unit some losses, but they remain in good spirits.

Unit Changes:
The 3rd Battalion was broken on Paradise by the Kashamarkan diehards that refused to surrender the world to Arcadia. It will be reconstituted from new musters in 3036.


1st Free March Regiment

Campaigns: Kirkenlaard, Laureles, Tongatapu

After spending the first months as a garrison on Campbelton, the 1st FMR participated in the captures of three Marik worlds.



2nd Free March Regiment

Campaigns: None

Following the severe damage the unit took on Trellisane in '34, the remains of the 2nd FMR spent the year as garrison for McAffe, where new units were constituted to join them while the Strathclyde Shipyards rebuilt their transport DropShips.

Unit Changes:

The 2nd Regiment is the first FMR to have an entire regiment of battle armor infantry attached, the 3rd Armored Infantry Regiment. It is commanded by Colonel John McKinsey. It has likewise seen a full aerospace group assigned, the 10th, under Colonel Greta von Hammer.



3rd Free March Regiment

Campaigns: Loyalty, Kirkenlaard, Laureles, Ionis

The 3rd Free March Regiment is the only one of their number to spend the year fighting, starting with securing the planet Loyalty from former Kashamarka and then participating in securing three Marik worlds within 1 to 2 jumps of Atreus itself. The 3rd Regiment has performed its duties splendidly.


4th Free March Regiment

Campaigns: Kirkenlaard, Laureles, Alterf

After being relieved from garrisoning Campbelton by the mercenary outfit Astoc's Army, the 4th Free March Regiment took part in the securing of the worlds around Atreus.



Concord Borderers

Campaigns: Corsicana Insurgency, Alterf

After spending most of the year suppressing the Marik insurgency on Corsicana, and eventually securing the honorable surrender of the insurgents, the understrength Borderers were called in to assist the 4th Regiment, their former garrison mates on their homeworld, with the conquest of Alterf. Said conquest turned into a parade as the planet surrendered rather than fight.

Unit Changes:
The Borderers have become one of the first Arcadian regiments to employ the new "square" formation of four battalions instead of three, as well as the assignment of the newly-formed 7th Armored Infantry Regiment of three battalions of battle armor infantry. The fighter group is likewise restored to two wings.


1st Bolan Irregulars

Campaigns: None

The 1st Bolan Irregulars have sat out the war, remaining assigned to Rosice throughout the year.

Unit Changes:
Replacement units mustered on Zvolen will be bringing the 1st Irregulars back up to strength.


2nd Bolan irregulars

Campaigns: Drosendorf Insurgency

The 2nd Irregulars have spent the year in repeated skirmishes with the Marian-armed insurgents on Drosendorf. Despite said Marian support, the insurgents have mostly surrendered or given up now, and the final pockets will be eliminated by the first month of 3036.


Arcadian Navy Changes

The carrier wing of the AFMS Audacious suffered further loss at the Battle of Stewart, now reduced to just two wings of light fighters. Additionally the 2nd Battalion of the 1st Marine Regiment was wiped out to the last man by the self-destruction of the cruiser MCS Charles Marik near Stewart, including all command officers.

The assault dropships assigned to the AFMS Liberator and AFMS Guardian have been replaced by new, upgraded ships.



New Units


Hyde Lancers: Always Steadfast

The history of the Hyde Lancers goes back to the collapse of Lyran authority in the border regions. The Anglo-German nobility of Hyde formed the combined-arms regiment from their retinues and whatever they could scrounge from LCAF assets. Despite the odds the Hyde Lancers survived numerous invasions by pirates, mercenaries, and other rogue elements, becoming the epitome of martial courage to the people of Hyde. When their world joined the foundation of the Free March, the Lancers were invited to join the AFFM, and were eventually formed into a component of the 1st Free March Cavalry Brigade. After decades of service as a combined arms force and then a BattleMech battalion, the Hyde Lancers were nearly wiped out on Bolan by the Vth and VIth Legions of the Marian Hegemony. In recognition of their bravery, the Hyde Lancers are now reconstituted as an independent regiment of the AFFM, much to the satisfaction of their homeworld.

The regiment's insignia is a pair of crossed lances over the likeness of Hyde's main continent. Their parade colors are ocean blue and green.


Hyde Lancers BattleMech Regiment (Regular/Reliable)
CO: Brigadier Maxwell Steuben
XO: Colonel Natasha Volkova
 1st Batt: Lt. Colonel Kevin Richards
 2nd Batt: Lt. Colonel Mohinder Nehru
 3rd Batt: Lt. Colonel Johann von Lohringhoven
 4th Batt: Lt. Colonel Frederick Druthers
The Hyde Lancers are a medium weight 'Mech regiment, with only a few faster heavy 'Mechs (typically heavy cavalry types) in their number. They have trained in cavalry tactics and assaulting isolated enemy units where the need may call for it.


3rd Aerial Cavalry Regiment (Regular/Reliable)
CO: Colonel Jack O'Malley
Two battalions worth of VTOL and airbeathing conventional aircraft provide additional reconnaissance and tactical air support to the Hyde Lancers.


29th Free March Artillery Battalion (Regular/Reliable)
CO: Lt. Colonel Ferdinand Saint-Martin
Colonel Saint-Martin is a younger officer than usual for his rank. A skilled mathematician and artillery officer, he is hoping to employ some of the latest refitted weapon systems in the Arcadian arsenal.


5th Armored Infantry Regiment (Regular/Reliable)
CO: Colonel Joanna Ridley
The 5th Armored Infantry includes a higher than usual number of former militia infantry, reflecting the AFFM's growing need for infantry troopers. Far from undermining their capability, the 5th's training and mustering shows these soldiers are slightly more capable than their rated competency level due to long experience.


Hyde Lancers Aerospace Group (Regular/Reliable)
CO: Colonel Paula Reuben
The Hyde Lancers Aerospace Group matches the new standard TO&E of line unit air support, with a wing of medium-weight fighters and two wings of interceptors. Colonel Reuben is training the wings to operate together and to execute tactical strike missions when the land forces need the assistance.



Garrison Brigades



Fourteen new formations, modeled after the Light Militia Brigades established at the end of 3034, these units are primarily drawn from the new worlds of the Free March, including draft classes from such worlds that practice conscription. The higher number of conscripts and the situation involving their worlds means these fourteen units are considered to be of Questionable reliability as well as being inexperienced troops with militia-quality gear, but the need for garrison units to reduce reliance on MOOK Security Enterprises and the limited economic resources of Arcadia until recently demanded their employment. In the long term, many garrison brigades may be replaced by militia forces of more reliable nature.

 

[Big Steve]

2 December 3035


Every op comes down to the Moment. The point where everything you've planned has come to fruition and you have to commit or simply go home and write all the effort off.

Claire Westin had a sense for that. And it was telling her today would be her Moment.

From a brief glance it didn't seem like she had to act immediately. She had access to Smythe every week. He was accustomed to her being around and appreciated how she kept his work space tidy. Every week was an opportunity, wasn't it?

So it might seem, but Claire already saw the signs of suspicion. Not from Smythe himself, nor the other staff, but the security people were taking Notice of her repeated closeness, that she was always the one cleaning the desk. This kind of work usually rotated over time, and she was approaching the edge of that reasonable time frame. Soon they would be asking themselves why Darla Kiner kept hovering around the man responsible for the weekly data backups. At best, she'd be re-assigned. At worse, she'd be reported to counter-intelligence as a possible operative and placed under surveillance, and her entire op might unravel.

She came ready. Among her things was an exact model of the data chip used for backups and the exact model of the container for carrying the sensitive electronic device around, and given the resources for the op, other assets made sure her chip had the right data and identifiers to fool the backup computers. Someone would have to directly access the backup data files to realize this week's backup data was junk (or rather, a rather large collection of various pop songs from across the Inner Sphere), and that was extremely unlikely in the short term. All that remained was to make contact with Smythe between receiving the chip and taking it to the backup.

Here the routine helped. Under security regulations, the time each week should change, to prevent someone like her from being able to remain in position without rousing suspicions. But Smythe was a man of orderly mind, and he liked to keep things regular. So in defiance of that security consideration, he'd make sure to get the backup ready for after lunch. Claire made sure to be there when the moment came.

That was when Lysandra intervened.

The plump woman caught her just outside of Smythe's office. "Oh, Darla, you look so marvelous today," she said, blocking the hall as she did. "It's good to see you wearing a little color!"

"Color" being a navy blue instead of gray, but Claire didn't have time to correct or humor her. Smythe was already finishing lunch. She had to get in there and make the swap. "Thank you," she murmured, trying to step around.

Lysandra didn't let her go, moving to block her progress. "Come now, Darla, I'm trying to compliment you. Why do you have to be so… so standoffish? We all want to be your friend."

Ugh! "I have friends." That was the kind of low response Darla would give, and Claire gave it while wishing she could just judo-toss Lysandra to the ground without breaking cover (she couldn't).

"I've seen you, that's not friendship Darla. Friendship is taking and giving compliments." She not so subtly indicated her pearl-white business blouse and skirt, which were well-made certainly. "It's about being open with people and trying to make them feel better. If you'd just let us in you'd be so much happier!"

Inside, Smythe threw away the refuse of his lunch. He started collecting his things for the backup run.

"I like how I am," Claire protested, using Darla's tone and voice. She made sure to show how uncomfortable Darla was at Lysandra's latest bold attempt to compel interaction. "Please, I just want to finish my work. Mister Smythe's office needs cleaning."

"It can wait," Lysandra insisted. "Darla, you shouldn't go through life like this. This… this isn't living. Just cleaning offices and all that. Why don't you come to the dinner this week, me and the other girls have this really nice place to eat and hang out."

The remark brought back memories of school friends for Claire. For Darla Kiner, it sounded like a brief visit to Hell. "I don't want to go out, I like to be at the park," she murmured, again trying to get past.

"The park, well, we can have a picnic!" Lysandra insisted, maneuvering to keep Claire from getting bye. "I'm really doing this for your own good, Darla. Your mental health is at stake. You need to open up, and I'm not leaving until I get some progress. I'm really worried about you."

Claire glanced toward the office. Smythe picked up the chip and its case and started toward the door. Her opening today was lost. It made her want to punch Lysandra square in the throat. Ruined because of this… no. No, today I make the move, I've got to. Make this work, Claire!

"Please leave me alone," she said, loudly.

"Darla, I'm trying to help you. Please…"

The wheedling tone didn't distract Claire from her timing. As Smythe exited the office, she made her move, bolting forward and around Lysandra as if to dive for safety. The stout woman moved to cut her off again, but wasn't quite fast enough to stop her from getting by.

She did, to anyone observing, force Darla to bounce off the wall and, in getting around her, collide with Damien Smythe. It was, apparently, purely unintentional that her arm caught his left hand with enough force to knock the data chip container free.

He let out a shocked cry as they went down in a pile of flailing limbs. "Oh!" Lysandra called out, approaching as they disentangled. "Mister Smythe, are you okay?"

WIth irritation plain in his voice, he called out, "Does it look like it!" His focus went entirely on her. "Dammit, I told you to leave Kiner alone."

"I'm just trying to help…"

Since Darla was mortified and upset, Claire didn't let the smile she felt within even start to form on her face. With Smythe distracted, her right hand freed the replacement from her custodial jumpsuit pocket. While he pulled free, she made sure to fall over the dropped container, and while her body covered it she dropped the decoy and picked up the actual container. She slid it into a waist pocket and resecured it in the seconds before Smythe took her left arm. "Kiner, are you okay?"

"Sorry Mister Smythe," she murmured, her voice thick with mortification. "I didn't mean to run into you."

"It's fine," he said. "Nothing broken, right?" Now that the frustration of the moment was over, he returned his focus to work. As soon as she was back to her knees he picked up what, to him, was the vital data he was responsible for loading into the backup systems. "Going to be okay?" he asked.

"Let me get back to work," she murmured. 'I've got a lot of work to do."

"Right. It's fine." Smythe released Claire, who ducked into his office to begin cleaning. As she brought out the battery-powered vacuum cleaner, she could hear him dressing Lysandra down. "This is becoming harassment. Don't let me catch you again…"

The rest of the day went by with a tension Claire hid as well as she could. To her benefit, word of Lysandra's pushy behavior spread, so it fit rather well that Darla Kiner would be even more standoffish and tense. She was given a wider berth than usual. That left her final challenge in the security checkpoint.

She was prepared, of course. She presented the purloined data chip container for the usual scan, and the scanners showed the contents of the chip within the container was a collection of music.

Just after she was waived through, Smythe's voice echoed through the checkpoint. "Kiner!"

An icy chill went down her spine. Had he actually checked the backups today? Was her op blown this close to the finish line?

She turned and faced him, eyes kept away. "Yes, Mister Smythe?"

While security stood by, he approached to the end of the checkpoint. "Sorry about earlier. Lysandra won't bother you ever again, I promise. I made it clear to her that was unacceptable behavior."

"Thank you. I guess she means well…"

"She's just upset someone doesn't pay attention to her. She'll be leaving you alone now, Kiner, don't you worry about it."

I know she will. Claire thanked him again, after which he turned back from the checkpoint and headed into the complex. For her own part, she left quietly.

The op was not a success yet. It wouldn't be until she got the data into the hands of her people. That meant signaling the dead drop and waiting for it to be retrieved.

This was one of the hardest parts to deal with. That sudden urge to just get it over with. To march right up to the Arcadian consulate, go in, and hand the data over. And that was her last resort plan, if everything went south. But there was no deniability in it: local authorities would know something happened, and it would reflect poorly on the SIS if Arcadia's actions were discovered. She had to do everything in her power to make sure that didn't happen.

For her part, Darla Kiner needed to wind down after that long day of work and the confrontation with Lysandra. She headed to one of her favorite parks, even if it meant a slight detour from the way home, bought a snack and a loose loaf of bread from a vendor, and headed to the duck pond. There she spent the better part of an hour watching the water-loving avians nibble on her offerings and do their usual quacking and waddling.

While she did that, Claire did the usual checks to see if she was under intense surveillance, and to see if her contact was in the area yet. It was only when she spotted the casually dressed middle-aged man walking a dog along the path that she stood from her bench and went over to the edge of the pond. For several moments she shifted several stones around, re-aligning them to be less chaotic in their layout and more properly lined up, something Darla often did.

It also let her quietly slide the data chip and its special container under one of the stones.

After Darla was satisfied and her sense of order was right, she returned to her bench and waited for the ducks to come back. The man with the dog walked past. The animal made a couple barks and headed toward the lake, prompting his keeper to follow. Once on the shoreline nearby the dog took to barking at a couple of small marsupial-like creatures that also lived in the park. His owner, clearly figuring he'd let his pet blow off some steam, stood quietly for a few moments while checking his personal noteputer. He looked down at the stones Darla rearranged. "Ah. Perfect Pythagorean triangle," he said.

"Looks right," she answered quietly. "I got it right."

"You're good at that." He knelt down, examining a few of the stones. Claire was approving of how quickly he drew the chip and its protective container into his hand, palming it. The same hand nonchalantly went to his pocket, where he placed it and undoubtedly released the chip. He pulled his noteputer out again and checked the contents of his screen for several moments. "There we go. Looks like those equations worked out. I've got what I need."

"That's good," Darla said, very low, and looking more interested in getting the stranger to go away so she could be alone.

"C'mon, Hunter, it's time to go home," he called out to the dog, pulling at the leash a little. The animal obediently followed.

So that's it, Claire thought. The designs and plans are there. We have what we need, and I go home. She stood. Poor Mister Smythe, and poor Lysandra. They're going to assume the worst about Darla Kiner.

It couldn't be otherwise, though. That was the nature of the business. Her Moment came, she took it, and now all she had left was to depart and allow her marks to go back to their lives, even if it meant causing them grief.

In two days time Darla Kiner would not report for work at the start of the week. Police would eventually be contacted, her home checked, and everything would look like Darla walked away from her life. Those who knew her might worry for a time before they went on with their lives. Depending on if anyone checked the backup systems, there would eventually be a connection made, but if her swap wasn't detected - if Smythe loaded fresh backups next week without any alarm - then there'd be nothing to it. Maybe some cursory examination by security, but that would be all.

As for Claire Westin, she would have another legend by then, and would be on a Terran DropShip bound for New Dallas, and from there, home, her parents, and eventually… another operation.

That was the life of a spy.

 

[Big Steve]

Arlington Mansion
Douglass City, Washington Continent
Dixie
Independent World
11 November 3035


Win or lose, Harold Wise was at work again the night of the planetside plebiscite over joining the Free March. Duke Lee had him as the guest of honor for, as the invitation put it, "an eloquent and measured campaign that shall be remembered with distinction, whatever the result of it". The great ballroom of the Mansion was the sight of a splendid gathering of planetary elite and local folk invited by the Duke. Harold found himself shaking hands with a young couple of factory workers, attending with their daughter for winning a civil service award at her school. The recognition was greater than many worlds would give a young commoner, but Dixie ran things its own way, and Wise felt more than ever it would have a place of distinction in the Free March.

That hour now came. WIth Arlington well into the evening, holovid projectors displayed the planetary news giving the final vote counts. Wise tried to not hold his breath and failed, as he awaited the result of his months of work.

54% Yes, 46% No.

As the display showed that result he finally breathed, which helped when he got a hearty slap on the back from Count Cleburne of Ozark, head of one of Dixie's smaller continents. "Well done sir," the young man said. "You spoke your case well."

"I'm just happy it's confirmed," Wise said. "And I wish I'd convinced more."

"A lot of folk were never going to vote to give up independence," Duke Lee remarked, approaching him. "You did your people proud by convincing so many that it was the best way, including me." He offered his hand to Wise, who took it. "I'm glad to say I'll be a vassal of your March-Princess, and I'll do what I can to make all of our fellow worlds keep their liberties and honor intact."

"You'll be welcome in Laughlin on the Ducal Council, that I'm sure of," said Wise. It took him a surprising amount of effort to not whoop for joy. Not just that this might make his career, but that he'd brought Dixie in the proper way, through diplomacy and persuasion, not dropping a trio of 'Mech regiments on their capital and telling them to submit or die. This is the way it's meant to be, he thought.

There'd be more work, of course, to set up Dixie's entry into the Free March, but for tonight, he'd celebrate.


Congress of Electors Chamber
Johnson's Landing, Hadley Continent
Loric
Independent World
13 December 3035


The Montbergs watched quietly as Frank Blair, acting as President of Loric and the Congress of Electors, brought the Annexation Bill through the Congress. Unlike his father Frank was not boisterous, he was precise, and calm, but clearly not cold. He smiled warmly at positive remarks and worked the crowd, or at least, pretended to.

In truth, Karl was sure this was no more truly democratic than Tom Blair would've been. The Blair family owned Loric, and they owned the Congress. That wouldn't change.

Not right away, anyway.

Even Frank Blair seemed to know that it would change eventually. Whereas his father saw his power as a commodity to be traded for and ensure his own prestige and wealth, Frank was clearly interested in Loric. Not without self-interest, certainly, and he'd continue to rule as President and appoint a representative to the Ducal Council, but whatever his personal desires wanted, they included his planet to play a prominent role in the expanding, and soon reforming, Arcadian Free March. If that meant accepting the likelihood of eventual change, Frank would pay it for the chance he saw.

Johann put a hand on his shoulder while the final vote confirmed the Annexation. "You've done well, Karl."

"Only because a man died," Karl said carefully, aware there were others around them. "If Tom Blair still lived, we'd already be back on Arcadia."

"Or maybe he'd recognize his bluff was called? Don't beat yourself up over it, love. You did your job, you did it right, and now Loric is a member of the Free March."

There was that, yes. And it was something to smile about.

 

[Big Steve]

Ducal Palace
Roslyn, Eastern Islay
Arcadia
Arcadian Free March
7 January 3036

The first week of 3036 was soon to draw to a close. For Sara-Marie, it'd been an energetic week, starting with the New Year's Honors Ball, repeated meetings with the Planning Staff to see to the prosecution of the final campaigns against the remnants of the Marik Commonwealth, and other matters of import.

It was, at least, distracting. For the first time in her life as March-Princess, Sara-Marie was living in empty familial quarters. Thomas was at Ford again, attending the coronation ceremonies for the new Duke, Frederick Thompkins, following his mother's abdication for health, acting as both the Earl of Martleford and her personal representative. Abby was back at Concord and attending veterinary college. Willy was at AMSA and living in the cadet barracks. Mark and Thomas were on a DropShip likely within hours of meeting the first of the JumpShips ferrying them and other liaison staffers to Coventry. And Melissa was at Atreus with her ship, still flying and fighting this war, and causing her mother to fear the worst. All she had were palace staff and advisors, and none of them could make up for the lack of family.

For the moment, the distractions were over, and Sara-Marie felt old and tired at the thoughts in her mind. She was only fifty, but she might have been sixty-five for the gray forming in her hair, the lines on her face, and the sheer burden she felt slowly pushing the life out of her. All her life she'd been prepared for these burdens, but the last six years were worse than the previous twenty to her mind. As horrible as those days could be, given the chaos in the independent systems, the pirates and rogue mercs flitting about causing trouble… it felt less bloody than what was now being called the Second Age of War.

Despite the paperwork she was due to cover, she found herself standing at a window looking out at Roslyn. It felt bigger and more energetic these days. The growing economy from the expansion of the Free March was, at least, benefiting her people, both old subjects and newer ones. In time, this might win more hearts over to the Free March and what it was becoming. Perhaps we will stop still thinking of this world as Leaguer and that world as Lyran… perhaps we will be Arcadian, or Free Marcher… a new identity.

Her intercom sounded. "Your Serene Highness, His Grace the Duke of Togwotee is here."

"Send him in," Sara-Marie called out, turning to meet her arriving Lord of the Privy Council, Simon Allen. Like many from his world he was primarily of American First Nation blood, an old man with even more creased features than her, his hair now white as snow and kept in a conservative style preferred by the nobility of Togwotee. "Your Grace." She noted he was in business casual dress, not formal, a relief since she was likewise in a conservative navy blue blouse and ankle-length dress. "You need to see me?"

"I have finished my discussions with the other rulers, and taken messages from His Grace the Duke of Dixie and His Excellency the President of Loric," said Allen, his soft baritone crackling a little from age. "It is time, Your Highness."

"Time for… ah." She nodded. "The winds of change are truly blowing then? Time for our realm to go into the cocoon, and emerge in a new form."

"Certain particulars of internal organization remain, but the result will be worth it. Whatever the name is at the end, I trust the spirit of our worlds will remain the same."

"I would hope so." Sara-Marie sighed. "I fear our people may grow accustomed to being conquerors, not liberators. Not that we were innocent beforehand…"

"Hypocrisy is the tribute that vice pays to virtue. If we must indulge in vice, we should still strive to promote the virtue, as hypocritical as it sounds."

"Yes. Well, I shall keep an eye on the deliberations, then. The news will be announced?"

"We believe it best if you give the word in your Annual Address to the Assembly, Highness."

"Then we shall have to make the speech just right," she remarked. "I'll speak with my staff. Anything else?"

"Yes. Another matter. Whatever the result at the end of the year, I shall be stepping down as Lord of the Privy Council. I wish to return home."

Given his age, Sara-Marie expected such, and his near-decade of service to her as Lord of the Privy Council earned him such a retirement. "I shall miss your counsel," she said quietly. "Is everything fine at home? Her Grace is in good health?"

The look on the old man's face told her the answer was not a happy one. "Our doctors found a tumor. Small, but growing. With treatment it can be dealt with, but…"

"...but it might not work, and it may not be the last even if it does," she finished for him. "You don't have to give a reason, Your Grace… Simon. You've been a faithful advisor to me over all these years, helping to govern our people through a very difficult time. This reformation will be yours as much as mine, and then, go, rest, and be with your family. And if you and yours need anything, you need only ask, and I will do all in my power to see to it."

"Thank you, Highness," he answered. "Sara. Thank you."

 

[Big Steve]

With Dixie and Loric having joined the Free March, and since both planets have 'Mech factories under game rules, I made a couple medium 'Mechs to be their first new designs for sale to the AFFM.

First, a cheap fire support 50-tonner, the Springald.

Springald SPL-1

Mass: 50 tons
Tech Base: Inner Sphere
Chassis Config: Biped
Rules Level: Tournament Legal
Era: Second Age of War
Tech Rating/Era Availability: E/X-X-E-D
Production Year: 3036
Dry Cost: 4,177,000 C-Bills
Total Cost: 4,417,000 C-Bills
Battle Value: 1,161

Chassis: Ortiz Materials Endo-Steel
Power Plant: Onassis FusionWorks 200 Fusion Engine
Walking Speed: 43.2 km/h
Maximum Speed: 64.8 km/h
Jump Jets: None
    Jump Capacity: 0 meters
Armor: Springfield Arsenal Standard Armor w/ CASE
Armament:
    2 Matthews Ballistics LRM-20s w/ Artemis IV FCS
Manufacturer: Springfield Arsenal
    Primary Factory: Loric
Communications System: Springfield Arsenal TacComm Mk. 3
Targeting and Tracking System: Opel-Neuworth TacSystem

Overview:
The first original 'Mech design to be built by Springfield Arsenal on Loric,
ordered in preparation for Loric's accession to the Free March, the Springald
is a medium-weight dedicated fire support BattleMech meant to be a cheaper
alternative to the renowned Catapult and Archer.


Capabilities:
The Springald has only two weapons: a pair of torso-mounted LRM-20s, each
paired with an Artemis IV fire control system with two tons of ammunition per
launcher protected by CASE.  Since the machine uses only a standard fusion
engine, this not only aids pilot survivability, it ensures the machine can
survive an ammo hit, allowing the possibility of retreat.

The only other piece of advanced technology is the internal structure, forged
of endo-steel provided by Ortiz Materials.  Given the known difficulties with
endo-steel, Springfield went out of their way to minimize the hassle for
MechTechs attempting to repair and maintain these machines.  A number of AFFM
MechTech veterans have already evaluated the Springald and given enthusiastic
approval.


Battle History:
The Springald has not yet seen action, although a lance is being sent to Atreus
for testing purposes should the siege of the last Marik holdouts last long
enough.


Deployment:
Given the cheap price tag, the Springald is being mostly considered for the
Borderers and Free March Regiment units, to provide more intensive fire support
barrages over Trebuchets and the Arcadian-built Hwacha.  Astoc's Army, Ransom's
Raiders, and the Gravediggers are all reputed to be interested in purchasing
units for their fire support lances while on contract with the Arcadian Free March.
The only active duty lance is being temporarily assigned to the Bolan Hussars for
evaluation.


Variants:
Springfield Arsenal is also building the SPL-2 for evaluation.  It eschews the
Artemis IV Fire Control Systems for thicker armor plate, allowing for more
varied missile types to be employed instead of Artemis-linked missiles.  The
SPL-2 thus gives up some accuracy for flexibility and protection.


Notable 'Mechs & MechWarriors:
None yet


================================================================================
Equipment           Type                         Rating                   Mass
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Internal Structure: Endo-Steel                    83 points                2.50
    Internal Locations: 1 HD, 2 CT, 4 LA, 3 RA, 2 LL, 2 RL
Engine:             Fusion Engine                200                       8.50
    Walking MP: 4
    Running MP: 6
    Jumping MP: 0
Heat Sinks:         Double Heat Sink             10(20)                    0.00
    Heat Sink Locations: 1 LT, 1 RT
Gyro:               Standard                                               2.00
Cockpit:            Standard                                               3.00
    Actuators:      L: SH+UA+LA+H    R: SH+UA+LA+H
Armor:              Standard Armor               AV - 112                  7.00
    CASE Locations: 1 LT, 1 RT                                             1.00

                                                      Internal       Armor    
                                                      Structure      Factor    
                                                Head     3            9        
                                        Center Torso     16           17      
                                 Center Torso (rear)                  4        
                                           L/R Torso     12           14      
                                    L/R Torso (rear)                  4        
                                             L/R Arm     8            10      
                                             L/R Leg     12           13      

================================================================================
Equipment                                 Location    Heat    Critical    Mass
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
LRM-20                                       RT        6         5        10.00
    Artemis IV FCS                           RT        -         1         1.00
LRM-20                                       LT        6         5        10.00
    Artemis IV FCS                           LT        -         1         1.00
@LRM-20 (Artemis) (12)                       RT        -         2         2.00
@LRM-20 (Artemis) (12)                       LT        -         2         2.00
                                            Free Critical Slots: 9

BattleForce Statistics
MV      S (+0)  M (+2)  L (+4)  E (+6)   Wt.   Ov   Armor:      4    Points: 12
4          2       4       4       0      2     0   Structure:  4
Special Abilities: CASE, SRCH, ES, SEAL, SOA, IF 3

 

[Big Steve]

And from Dixie, appropriately, a cavalry 'Mech, the MTG-1 Mustang. It uses a couple of more esoteric tech pieces, namely, light fusion engines, light PPCs, and Mixed Missile Launchers.

Mustang MTG-1

Mass: 55 tons
Tech Base: Inner Sphere
Chassis Config: Biped
Rules Level: Tournament Legal
Era: Second Age of War
Tech Rating/Era Availability: E/X-X-E-D
Production Year: 3036
Dry Cost: 8,688,990 C-Bills
Total Cost: 8,802,990 C-Bills
Battle Value: 1,391

Chassis: Tredegar Alloy Standard
Power Plant: RussTech FusionWorks 275 Light Fusion Engine
Walking Speed: 54.0 km/h
Maximum Speed: 86.4 km/h
Jump Jets: RussTech TurboJet
    Jump Capacity: 150 meters
Armor: Tredegar Armoring Ferro-Fibrous w/ CASE
Armament:
    2 Vickers-Armstrong Mk. 3 Light PPCs
    2 Matthews Ballistics Combined Launcher MML-7s
Manufacturer: Tredegar Metal Works
    Primary Factory: Dixie
Communications System: Kenyatta Communications
Targeting and Tracking System: Botts Tactical Systems 3030 Model

Overview:
Initially designed for a failed attempt to convince the Yupanqui regime of
Cajamarca to employ cavalry 'Mechs in their armored divisions, Tredegar Metal
Works spent 3035 negotiating with various Arcadian defense companies to produce
a design for export to the Arcadian Free March.  With the annexation plebiscite
prevailing, the issue of export became moot, with Dixie a full member world of
Arcadia, and the Mustang a new prospective 'Mech for Arcadian units.


Capabilities:
A medium-weight cavalry 'Mech by design, the Mustang employs arm-mounted light
PPCs for ranged striking power, backed by the seven-shot missile launchers
built into the torso.  These weapons, a new model by Matthews Ballistics made
possible by recovered plans from Atreus, allow the Mustang to fire either short
or long-ranged missiles as the tactical situation demands, and each launcher
has access to its own supply of missiles of these types.  The ammunition is
protected by CASE, and since the 'Mech employs the cheaper and smaller Light
Fusion Engines developed by RussTech, this means the machine can survive the
loss of one side and remain tactically viable.  Its 270-rated engine gives it a
max speed of 86 kp/h, and with five RussTech TurboJets it has a jump range of
150 meters, fitting with the mobility demanded of cavalry 'Mechs.


Battle History:
None yet


Deployment:
Shipments of the Mustang will begin in 3036.  Four lances of the 'Mech are
bound for the 1st Free March Cavalry Brigade and its component regiments, to
provide the first field use.  The AFFM will, if the design proves viability,
employ it widely in its medium battalions.


================================================================================
Equipment           Type                         Rating                   Mass
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Internal Structure: Standard                      91 points                5.50
Engine:             Light Fusion Engine          275                      12.00
    Walking MP: 5
    Running MP: 8
    Jumping MP: 5 Standard
    Jump Jet Locations: 1 CT, 1 LT, 1 RT, 1 LL, 1 RL                       2.50
Heat Sinks:         Double Heat Sink             10(20)                    0.00
Gyro:               Standard                                               3.00
Cockpit:            Standard                                               3.00
    Actuators:      L: SH+UA+LA+H    R: SH+UA+LA+H
Armor:              Ferro-Fibrous                AV - 161                  9.00
    Armor Locations: 1 HD, 1 CT, 2 LT, 2 RT, 3 LA, 3 RA, 1 LL, 1 RL
    CASE Locations: 1 LT, 1 RT                                             1.00

                                                      Internal       Armor    
                                                      Structure      Factor    
                                                Head     3            9        
                                        Center Torso     18           24      
                                 Center Torso (rear)                  6        
                                           L/R Torso     13           21      
                                    L/R Torso (rear)                  5        
                                             L/R Arm     9            15      
                                             L/R Leg     13           20      

================================================================================
Equipment                                 Location    Heat    Critical    Mass
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
MML-7                                        RT        4         4         4.50
MML-7                                        LT        4         4         4.50
Light PPC                                    RA        5         2         3.00
Light PPC                                    LA        5         2         3.00
@MML-7 (LRM) (17)                            RT        -         1         1.00
@MML-7 (SRM) (14)                            RT        -         1         1.00
@MML-7 (LRM) (17)                            LT        -         1         1.00
@MML-7 (SRM) (14)                            LT        -         1         1.00
                                            Free Critical Slots: 6

BattleForce Statistics
MV      S (+0)  M (+2)  L (+4)  E (+6)   Wt.   Ov   Armor:      5    Points: 14
5j         3       3       2       0      2     0   Structure:  3
Special Abilities: CASE, SRCH, ES, SEAL, SOA, IF 1

 

[Big Steve]

Edit: Since I was in a hurry yesterday, I went back and wrote more to give it a better ending, IMHO.



The Assembly of the Free March
Laughlin Capital District, Roslyn, Eastern Islay
Arcadia
Arcadian Free March
3 February 3036


The Annual Address was one of the key annual moments for Sara-Marie, as it had been since her grandmother, Sara Proctor, addressed the first elected Assembly in February of 2958. This was the one time a year when the monarch spoke directly with the entire Assembly in session to inform them of policies chosen and steps taken, and the requested legislation to fund them. Usually a solemn occasion, sometimes it was less so, such as the 2997 Address when the Pacifist Action League representatives openly booed her father, or the 3031 Address when the expansionists cried foul at her invocation of neutrality in the First Skye War. Indeed, there were few restrictions on such interruptions unless order broke down completely, and she was still surprised the new representatives from conquered worlds had yet to stage something similar.

Especially given how many there were. Even accounting for low populations on a few of them, and the until-recent lack of major worlds with significant population added, the number of new delegates was now firmly past the halfway point. The new citizens of the Free March outnumbered the old in this assembly. That they hadn't jammed up legislative government stemmed more from their own acceptance of the new status quo than any threatened measure to stop them, since constitutional law applied equally. Some were still surly, and they were forming blocs and parties to attend their own interests, but with the threat of Marian conquest and the war with the Mariks, they'd at least recognized that the Free March was a preferential choice.

As for the Mariks, many of those conquered worlds were represented now as well. Campbelton, Corsicana, Midkiff, Autumn Wind, Kirkenlaard, Bainsville, Rasalas, and Washburn. All of the former Kashamarkan worlds were likewise represented, as those planets were quicker to get organized given the collapse of their kingdom. Indeed, all of the new representatives were already threatening the capacity limits of the new, improved, enlarged Assembly Chamber made to accommodate the wave of new worlds in '33.

A fitting symbol for the times and occasion, Sara-Marie thought as she ascended the dais and stepped up to the speaker's podium. Silence filled the room.

"To my people, new and old, and their duly elected representatives, I bid you greetings. Today, I have word of tremendous import to bear."

"After two years of study and negotiation, members of the Privy Council and other figures, including those in this august body," and here she nodded to Speaker Campbell, "have debated the internal reform of the Arcadian Free March to accommodate the number of new worlds and peoples present here today. When Lord Laughlin and my grandmother brought together the first worlds of the Free March, they had little idea of how this future would come, and the instruments of government were for a smaller realm. This was no fault of their own, since neither was an oracle, and we can only judge matters by the light of our own times. But it is something we must attend to if we are to secure our future in the volatile times we face."

"In keeping with law, I have asked the Speaker to introduce the legislation into this body to meet this need. The Constitutional Reorganization Act will reform the Free March into a new body, the Arcadian Federated Marches, with new internal marches drawn to permit a federalized structure more responsive to local worlds' needs. Each of these new marches will have its own Assembly and an executive to govern them, with devolved powers for certain matters of interplanetary commerce and law, while a smaller Federal Assembly continues to meet here. We expect that the marches will retain their own character as they deem fit." Saying that she placed her eyes on the representatives of Sterling, Rexburg, and Pingree, all of them republics and firmly so. "Our goal is unity but not homogenization. The Free March has always been a collection of peoples with different creeds, beliefs, and languages, united by devotion to the sanctity of liberty promised by the Almighty. We will remain so under Federation."

Her eye cast to the representatives of the Bolanese exiles on Zvolen. "Likewise, for those of our number exiled from their rightful home, provision will be made for their own self-government under this manner, in the hope that in God's good time we will accomplish the liberation of their homeworld."

"I know this is much for many of you, and you undoubtedly hoped to hear me speak of the dividends of peace once Atreus falls. But in this new age of war, peace will be fleeting, and we must not expect it to persist. All we can do is pray that the fighting ends for a time and we can see to our own affairs. This is the most paramount of them. The winds of change blow across the Inner Sphere, and we must steer our vessel so that they do not dash us against the rocks."

"I ask that you do not let this give you fear or doubt as to our future. Our labors will be difficult, in peace and in war, but I have the strongest faith in our people, all of our nations and worlds, that we can come out of this fire together with a new, stronger realm worthy of standing amongst the greats. For we have an opportunity history rarely affords, to create something new. A realm, a House, that is neither Lyran nor Leaguer but its own, its own identity, its own values, its own tradition, and a new legacy to forge for our posterity."

She settled her hands on the podium, leaning slightly forward. "With the blessing of Providence and your diligence, we can accomplish much in this coming year, and create something that unites all of our worlds into a new identity, whatever the past would have called us. I have faith in this. I have faith in you, and in our peoples, that we will see it through. Thank you, and God bless."

With that, she ended the address.

 

[Big Steve]

Sabaton SBT-1

Mass: 100 tons
Tech Base: Inner Sphere
Chassis Config: Biped
Rules Level: Experimental Tech
Era: Second Age of War
Tech Rating/Era Availability: E/X-X-E-D
Production Year: 3031
Dry Cost: 22,398,500 C-Bills
Total Cost: 22,518,500 C-Bills
Battle Value: 2,587

Chassis: Arcadia Arsenal Standard
Power Plant: RussTech FusionWorks 300 Fusion XL Engine
Walking Speed: 32.4 km/h
Maximum Speed: 54.0 km/h
Jump Jets: None
    Jump Capacity: 0 meters
Armor: Arcadia Arsenal Standard Armor w/ CASE
Armament:
    3 RussTech Coilgun Gauss Rifles
    3 Vickers-Armstrong Mk. 10 Laser ER Medium Lasers
    1 Vickers-Armstrong Mk. 8 Laser ER Small Laser
Manufacturer: Selassie Defense Works
    Primary Factory: Arcadia
Communications System: Porter TeleComm
Targeting and Tracking System: Opel-Neuworth Model 3029

Overview:
One of the first original design Assault 'Mechs attempted by Selassie Defense
Works, the Sabaton is a direct fire support monster.  Named appropriately for
the boot of old full plate armor suits from medieval Europe, the Sabaton is
meant to crush foes from a comfortable range, while keeping sufficient armor
protection and speed for an Assault weight BattleMech.


Capabilities:
A technical challenge for Selassie when designed at the start of the decade,
the Sabaton carries three primary weapons, the Gauss Rifles fitted onto the
'Mech's torso and left arm.  RussTech spent much of 3031 expanding its
production facilities on Concord to manufacture the necessary number of Coilgun
models for the new orders of Sabaton given their other orders.  With three of
these hard-hitting, long-range monster guns, the Sabaton delivers direct fire
from a comfortable distance.  If an enemy draws closer, it can supplement the
rifle fire with a trio of Vickers-Armstrong Mk. 10 (ER) lasers, one mounted to
the wrist of the right arm and the others mounted on the 'Mech's hips, an
unconventional arrangement demanded by the space devoted to the primary
armament.  Below the head an extended range small laser, likewise a
Vickers-Armstrong model, rounds out the extra firepower.


Defensively the 'Mech has almost as much armor as can be crammed onto it.  The
torso-mounted weapons are also shielded by CASE systems to prevent the loss of
the pilot and ensure the salvagability of a Sabaton that's taken a destructive
hit to its weapon.  Its top speed is 54 kph, a normal high speed for a machine
of a hundred tonnes mass.


Battle History:
The Sabaton is found primarily in the elite units of the AFFM, since only a
handful have been manufactured so far due to the 25 million pound sterling
price tag on the machines.  The Arcadian Guards were the only regiment with the
Sabaton available until 3035, when two lances of the machines were deployed
with the Bolan Heavy Guards.  On Bolan itself the Sabaton was a terror for the
Marian Legions, Sabaton pilots repeatedly foiling Marian attacks on positions
whenever they could be found.  It would perform as admirably during the Second
Skye War, smashing Marik 'Mechs during the battles for Stewart and Atreus.


Deployment:
Currently Sabatons are fielded by the Arcadian Guards and Bolan Heavy Guards.
The 2nd Free March Regiment has two of the machines in its heavy assault
company.  The 1st March Cuirassiers will likewise employ the machine in some
numbers when they finished training and mustering in 3037.


Notable 'Mechs & MechWarriors:
Lieutenant Piotr Cyrilovich Yermenko, of the Arcadian Guards 1st Battalion,
fired his Sabaton's ammo stores completely while holding off a Marian company
in the final days of the Bolan Rescue Operation.  With all ammo depleted and
several Marian 'Mechs still active, he engaged them with the backup medium
lasers and downed another before reinforcements saved his position.  The action
led to his promotion and the award of the Order of St. Michael and the Military
Cross of Valor.


================================================================================
Equipment           Type                         Rating                   Mass
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Internal Structure: Standard                     152 points               10.00
Engine:             XL Fusion Engine             300                       9.50
    Walking MP: 3
    Running MP: 5
    Jumping MP: 0
Heat Sinks:         Double Heat Sink             10(20)                    0.00
Gyro:               Standard                                               3.00
Cockpit:            Standard                                               3.00
    Actuators:      L: SH+UA+LA    R: SH+UA+LA+H
Armor:              Standard Armor               AV - 304                 19.00
    CASE Locations: 1 LT, 1 RT                                             1.00

                                                      Internal       Armor    
                                                      Structure      Factor    
                                                Head     3            9        
                                        Center Torso     31           48      
                                 Center Torso (rear)                  13      
                                           L/R Torso     21           31      
                                    L/R Torso (rear)                  11      
                                             L/R Arm     17           33      
                                             L/R Leg     21           42      

================================================================================
Equipment                                 Location    Heat    Critical    Mass
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
ER Small Laser                               HD        2         1         0.50
Gauss Rifle                                  RT        1         7        15.00
Gauss Rifle                                  LT        1         7        15.00
ER Medium Laser                              RA        5         1         1.00
Gauss Rifle                                  LA        1         7        15.00
ER Medium Laser                              RL        5         1         1.00
ER Medium Laser                              LL        5         1         1.00
@Gauss Rifle (16)                            CT        -         2         2.00
@Gauss Rifle (8)                             RT        -         1         1.00
@Gauss Rifle (8)                             LT        -         1         1.00
@Gauss Rifle (16)                            LA        -         2         2.00
                                            Free Critical Slots: 9

BattleForce Statistics
MV      S (+0)  M (+2)  L (+4)  E (+6)   Wt.   Ov   Armor:     10    Points: 26
3          6       7       5       0      4     0   Structure:  4
Special Abilities: CASE, SRCH, ES, SEAL, SOA

 

[Big Steve]

Royal Court, Port St. William
Veracruz Continent
Coventry
New Commonwealth
4 April 3036


The first couple of weeks on Coventry were spent in the usual acclimation routine. Getting used to the local day cycle, the local gravity, peculiarities in local food supply, it was all something Prince Thomas was ready for given the army life, and particularly in lieu of the last three years and making more jumps in thirty-six months than he'd made in the entirety of his life beforehand.

Those same days were spent getting acquainted with the rest of the military and civil mission, which operated out of the Arcadian Embassy on Kalgoorlie Street, not far from the Palace itself in Coventry's main capital. His Excellency Lord Matthias von Vietinghoff, the Baron of Hofberg on Mariefred and Sara-Marie's ambassador to the Archon's Royal Court, was an attentive host, but he had the usual Teutonic-Lyran notions of social propriety and the importance of social mingling, so he insisted on Thomas and Mark attending a reception the Archon ordered in their honor and in honor of the final victory over the Marik Commonwealth.

As much as he'd have preferred not to, Thomas knew he couldn't say "No", and so steeled himself for the day.

At least it was a worthy occasion. Two years ago the Marik Commonwealth was second only to the Marian Hegemony on the list of potential threats to Arcadia. Now it was gone, dissolved by the fall of their last bastions on Solaris and Atreus, and Arcadia and their allies stood triumphant.

The spread was what the two princes expected given their own upbringing, if it was geared more toward the palates of the settlers of Coventry. The cuisine reminded them more of Ford, specifically Tasmanian, and Thomas found the accents fit the same with some German inflections having slipped in. They stood out among the relative few in AFFM red, their dress uniforms having the gold epaulettes and silver-braided double-looped aiguillettes of MechWarriors, and a blue sash from their left shoulder to their right side bearing the white Free March hawk.

But they didn't stand out too much. The New Commonwealth used the same style for its officer dress uniforms, but unit colors were factored in, and the House mercenary outfits - the Gray Death Legion and the newly-formed Kell Hounds - had their own styles, as did other smaller mercenary commands. The GDL had the great Teutonic field coats, the Kell Hounds wore half-capes that Thomas thought were a tad bombastic. All of the Commonwealth merc units and regular forces were represented in some way, mostly senior commanders who were still on world or with units not yet sent off to other operations.

While they'd been formally presented to Archon Katrina on the day of their arrival, the two princes introduced themselves to her yet again. The older blond woman and her husband, Speaker Arthur Luvon, welcomed the brothers with courtesy and some clear understanding of Thomas' discomfort at the social occasion, and they were introduced to the couple's heiress, the uniformed and striking Melissa Steiner. Despite the different appearances, Thomas couldn't help but think of his sister at meeting her Steiner namesake, and wondered how she was doing. Always with her head in the void…

"Our congratulations to your forces," Katrina said in fine Star League English, only a trace hint of German accent to it. She smiled broadly. "The dream of every Steiner for half a millennium, the fall of Atreus to Lyran forces, accomplished by the Proctor dynasty in five months of fighting."

"Our victory was impossible without your forces and those of Skye-Hesperus, Majesty," Thomas remarked diplomatically and, mostly, truthfully. All present couldn't avoid the knowledge that the swift collapse of Marik authority at the end of 3034 came from the massive Harsefeld-Oriente assault on their rear. But it wasn't always a pleasant truth given how powerful that combination of states were, and the threat they may yet pose. "Victory in the Skye War was a common effort."

"So it was, Your Highness, so it was." She turned her eyes toward Mark. His gloves obscured that one of his hands was metal, but his gait was still something of a limp with his new prosthetic leg still needing some synchronization with his nervous system. "Bolan, however, is your glory, and yours alone. I'm happy to see you have recovered this far, Prince Mark."

"Thank you, Highness, for your kindness."

Their exchange led to a few other remarks and ended, allowing Thomas and Mark to move on to meet with other dignitaries present. High nobility and officers alike all wanted a chance to give their greetings to the heir of the Arcadian realm, which was now one of the linchpins to the Lyran Alliance.

It was all so dizzying. Arcadia worked so hard to stay out of the First Skye War, to just wait and let things blow over, and was left scrambling to gain some relevance in the Inner Sphere's new environment. Now it was a leading power, if an unrealized one. We shall have a window of vulnerability that potential foes will want to exploit, Thomas thought. Getting through it will require keeping the Lyran Alliance intact.

"So, have you gotten the lecture yet?" Mark asked.

Thomas glanced his way. "Hrm?"

"The lecture. About Mum wanting to be a Grandma." The younger man grinned. "She'd never say it of course, but WIlly and Dad let it slip to me a few times. And I think even Anne-Marie saw it."

It was not something Thomas wanted to talk about, so he seized on a subject change. "Anne-Marie?"

"My physical therapist," Mark elaborated. "Waiting back at our suites for my session once we're done here. She wasn't interested in attending and she's not a member of the delegation anyway, if you're wondering."

"Right." Thomas recalled the dark-haired young woman from Bondurant's French-speaking communities. She was a nice lady, certainly, but Thomas knew nothing of her. "If this is your way of trying to hook me up, Mark…"

"No, this is my way of reminding you that in a few short months, you will be a thirty year old bachelor, and that you are the heir to the throne. Grandfather barely endured that problem in his day, and only because his siblings had children. We're all childless right now, and nobody wants Rachel or Roger Smythe-Proctor on the throne, even if cousin Rachel would do well."

Thomas scoffed at that. "You mean she'd cut the AFFM into half its size and try to run everything by Terran Union declarations, Star League pronouncements, and insistence on diplomacy before force."

"She's not that naive, dear brother."

"The day Aunt Gabrielle takes the throne is the day you know our realm is in for a terrible future."

"Now you're just being… how would father put it?... an ogre, Tom, and you know it."

Thomas was moments away from a retort when his eyes settled on a figure in the crowd, a woman taller than normal if not actually tall. She wore the navy blue of the Donegal Armed Forces with red highlights as a MechWarrior. She had blond hair, Steiner blond, pulled back into a firm military ponytail, and commentations that revealed a career of merit and capability, if not in an active combat command. As Thomas took in her appearance, her hazel eyes settled on him. She had a controlled expression and focus behind her eyes. At her approach her rank insignia revealed her a Hauptmann. Given the social rules of the setting, no salutes were exchanged. "Your Highness, a pleasure," she said in German-accented English.

For a moment Thomas couldn't answer. There was something in her eyes, in her expression, that he felt a kinship to. Something about her that was special. It was only after a few moments of quiet, and a concerned look from Mark, that he spoke. "A pleasure," he replied, trying to place her. Something about her seemed familiar…

"Lady Johanna Steiner," she said. "Formerly of the Defenders of Donegal. My brother wanted me to get, as he put it, more court experience."

"Well, he has picked well," Thomas replied, realizing finally who she met and the likeness. Johanna, younger sister of Duke Ethan Steiner of Halfway, one of the disinherited Donegal Steiners but said to be a favore of Queen Raquel. It was a fact to put him on some guard, but they were still allies, and it wouldn't due to be rude.

Besides, she was at least a fellow MechWarrior.

"This is where I take you to meet my comrades," she said, smiling in a controlled fashion. "And then, if you've had enough - and knowing my comrades, you will - you are done with our delegation."

"Right. Forgot this is one of those," he muttered, accepting her gestured offer to lead them. Hopefully our time here will not be entirely squandered...

 

[Big Steve]

Royal Palace
Cuzco, Atahualpa Continent
Cajamarca
Arcadian Free March
18 May 3036


Duchess Amara Yupanqui-Flores hadn't wanted the job. The grand-niece of the late Inka, she was the only blood relative of her grand-uncle willing to give the oath of fealty to the March-Princess, so on Arcadian bayonets she was placed in the Royal Palace and told the govern the realm. The only reason she'd given the oath, in truth, was the promise of joining the Arcadian Ducal Council and getting to live on Arcadia, far from the broken dreams and poisonous lies she saw as her family's legacy.

Now she had to deal with the repercussions of her family's stupidity and poor statesmanship. Cajamarca's fallen economy was stabilized, for the moment, but in the chaos of the fall of the so-called "Kashamarka Antisuyu" - Kingdom of Cajamarca! That's what it should have been from the beginning! - several of the corrupt nobles were carving out their own empires with mercenaries and house troops. Empires that were now shooting one another in the streets.

Her aide, Juan Perez-Lupa, held a noteputer while she watched the holovid broadcast of the latest skirmish in Pucallpa between the house troops of Count Sandoval and Marquess Trujillo. She frowned at the sight of a Firestarter BattleMech setting alight a couple of buildings while burning out opposing troops. Moments later it was hit by an autocannon round and several missiles. The camera operator turned to reveal a Bulldog tank, several in fact, rumbling up the road.

"Marquess Trujillo charged Count Sandoval with violating his territory," Juan explained. "He insists that a letter of patent from the era of the League gives him full title to Pucallpa."

"Does it?"

"Our legal scholars are divided. The paperwork appears properly genuine, but we have no record of the holding in the Royal archives. And Count Sandoval's father was granted his claim by your grandfather for service to the Yupanqui. That we do have valid data for."

"Knowing grandfather Jorge, that Count Sandoval did something truly terrible to be given domain over a city of the royal demesne," Amara muttered. "Atreus is Arcadian now, and the war is over. See if we can get someone into the League's own archives. They might confirm Trujillo's story."

"Would it matter?" asked Juan. "The Yupanqui declared all former titles null and void."

"They only declared that for opponents, if the Marquess' family is still in power they bent the knee, and they deserve consideration." Remembering another fact, Amara added, "And check with the Protocol Office branch the Arcadian government opened, make sure this is all fitting Arcadian constitutional law regarding fiefdoms. The last thing I need is for one of them to sue me in the Arcadian courts. It'll just inspire another round of fighting."

"Have you considered asking the military for help?"

Amara scowled. One of the Arcadians' full-sized militia brigades was on-planet, including a full regiment of BattleMechs. But they were still older models, and she was concerned some of the nobles would be emboldened if she used them and they faltered in combat. "No, I don't need that complication with the AFFM right now. What I need are mercenaries…" An idea formed in her mind, and a knowing grin came to her. "Who was that one-armed fellow I was asked to receive last week? Colonel Hoyan?"

"General Hoyal of the Gravediggers?"

"Yes. His mercenaries will work."

"They're under contract to the AFFM, ma'am."

"And assigned to garrison duty here. Still… get me a copy of their contract with the AFFM, I'd like to see something." She watched Juan, still skeptical, get to work, while she considered what she might do with this. The carrot and the stick should work. I'll give them their fair hearing, and they rein in their troops. If they don't, I give them cause to regret it.

And the sooner Cajamarca was stable, the sooner she could head to Arcadia, and away from this depressing world.

 

[Big Steve]

Ducal Palace
Roslyn, Eastern Islay
Arcadia
Arcadian Free March
4 April 3036


When Dukes Allen of Togwotee and Rayhan of Dar-es-Salaam asked Sara-Marie to not just join a Ducal Council meeting but host one in the Palace, she wondered why they would take such a step. Nevertheless she ordered the opening and arranging of the old Ducal Chamber of Justice, re-done from the courtroom it once was under the Duncans to a session chamber for the seventy plus rulers or representatives thereof who would attend. She attended in civilian dress with her husband for company.

As soon as the session was opened formally, the representative for Mariefred called for the floor. Landgraf Heinrich von Bohlen-Battenburg was a favored cousin of the Duke of Mariefred and a member of the Battenburg dynasty that ruled Mariefred. A former MechWarrior who still cut his hair to expose the temples in the old MechWarrior style, he cut a fine figure of Teutonic aristocracy, much to the obvious dislike of some of his peers.

A glance from Simon Allen told Sara-Marie she was about to witness the matter at hand, so she nodded back while Duke Abdulla granted the Marquess the floor.

"Your Serene Highness," he began, speaking formal court Star League English with a pronounced accent, "forty years ago, your illustrious and brave father led the Arcadian troops that drove the invaders of Dar-es-Salaam from our soil. In gratitude for Arcadia's actions, my grand-uncle swore fealty to March-Prince William, who promised us rule on our own world in accordance with our traditions save a few constitutional… trifles, which are of little consequence to the nobility of Mariefred."

Sara-Marie said nothing. It was history all were aware of, but clearly he was making a rhetorical point in reciting it.

Indeed, his voice grew harsh as he continued. "And now, you expect me to report to my cousin Duke Karl that the daughter of March-Prince William is rescinding that vow. That we are to be placed under the rule of the Rayhans! Can you imagine his reaction?"

Presumably quiet calculation masked by similar hysterics, Sara-Marie mused. Thomas' hand gently squeezed hers, reminded her of her husband's quiet presence. "You speak of the reorganization of the March."

"I have no objection to Federation, Highness. Nor would my illustrious cousin. No, what we object to are the internal borders you have drawn up, and the relegation of the people of Mariefred to the governance of their former oppressors! You would undo your father's bravery and the sacrifice of many of his soldiers with this!"

So that is it. It was always clear there would be trouble, whatever the constitutional system established for the new marches. "The reorganization does not eliminate your constitutional rights, Your Lordship," she reminded him. "You will not be required to give up one iota of local power."

"But we would have to answer to an assembly on Dar-es-Salaam," Heinrich protested. "His Grace would have to recognize the authority of the Rayhan!"

"Their authority would be no stronger than my own is now." Sara-Marie raised a hand. "That said, I am aware of the history, and clearly it was not considered sufficiently in the new drawing of the internal border."

She noted a searching look from Abdulla. He was a practical man, but he had the same sense of decorum and honor all his family had. Were she to strike a world from his intended march, it would be a grave insult. I will have to exchange one. She picked up her noteputer and called up a map of the projected marches. Dar-es-Salaam was to have Marefried, Eilenburg, Zwenkau, and Seftenberg. Duchess Jozefina is pledged Hollabrunn, so I cannot change that… She sighed at the incidence of astrography, which put the three worlds once invaded by Dar-es-Salaam into their new March. She checked their representatives among the assembled, but they seemed less passionate about this matter.

I will have to give him a world. Something to show respect and allow him to honorably accept the removal of Mariefred from the Dar-es-Salaam March. She considered the map of the drawn up lines and tapped a key to overlay a different set of data. An idea formed in her head. "Your Grace, Duke Abdulla, would you be accepting of having Giausar in your march instead?"

Abdulla smiled thinly. "As I recall, sons of that world died alongside my warriors on Bolan, and while she does not live a Godly life, the Duchess of Giasaur is a reasonable woman. I believe we would be able to work together on domestic issues well enough. Although it will make for some ungainly interior borders."

"So it will. As such, within the next few years I will promote a re-settlement of the system Pressby, which will be added to your march upon successful colonization."

"That would be most welcome, Your Serene Highness. As always, Allah blesses the line of the Emancipator with wisdom."

Your grand-uncle would have died of a heart attack hearing you say that, Sara-Marie contemplated. Abdullah and his father Faisal were friendly enough, but before that the Rayhans were bitterly opposed to the expansion of Proctor authority, and at the time of Sara's War of Liberation the Rayhans were allies of Carl Tabot, aiding him with troops and ultimately sheltering his son Matthew and surviving Tabot forces. A sign, at least, that we can move on from history… even if Marquess von Bohlen-Battenburg seems to prove otherwise.

"Are there any other matters?" she asked the Ducal Council.

A representative from Alula Borealis, appointed by the Chairman of the Planetary Communal Assembly of that world, asked for the floor. Tamara Kong had a dark bronze skin tone and graying dark hair, her slim form covered by one of the simpler business suits in the room. "Highness," she said, her accent with a touch of Regulan to it, "the Commune of Alula Borealis wishes to know about the state of affairs in Tamarind. There are reports that the new Marian Imperator has forbidden the taking of slaves?"

"He has made a formal announcement to that effect, yes," said Sara-Marie. She'd spent hours in meetings and reading reports and psych profiles on Imperator Corvus. Reputed to be a weakling and fool, she had a feeling one did not become and stay ruler of that state without being something more, and clearly the invasion of Tamarind was related to that. Just as Claudius invaded Britain to secure his throne, I suppose Corvus must do the same. One of these days the Legions will have to learn they cannot expand indefinitely. I suppose we may be the ones teaching that harsh lesson, God help us.

"Can you verify this? All reports we've read are that Marian expansion is to gain new slaves for their economy. Is he truly expanding without doing so?"

"He's offered to accept observers from neutral states, including Arcadian observers," Sara-Marie remarked. "The Foreign Office and Defense Office are consulting now on the makeup of such teams."

"I see. I look forward to their report, as does the Chairman." Kong sat down.

Another representative rose, with more questions about the Reorganization Act, and Sara-Marie worked with Duke Allen to answer those and all to come.

Step by step, we draw closer, she thought to herself.

 

[Big Steve]

Ducal Palace
Roslyn, Eastern Islay
Arcadia
Arcadian Free March
3 June 3036


Another day of negotiation with the planetary rulers concerning Federation and related legislation left Sara-Marie feeling particularly drained and looking forward to a quiet dinner with her husband and maybe a docudrama vid. There was a new series out covering the Star League's middle era that had her interest thanks to the acting talent involved, and she was looking forward to the next episode and the dawning ramifications of the "Ronin" in the Combine.

Yet one more task remained, and so as weary as she was, Sara-Marie made her way to the Command Staff's briefing room. General Harding and her relatives, Lord Alexander and Lady Tabitha, waited with many of the other senior officers, as well as Sir James Bronson of the SIS. The spymaster was the only figure in the room, save her, not wearing a military uniform.

"Our latest developments from Tamarind, Highness," Harding said. "And the outcome of the negotiations with Labouchere."

"Duke Pelham accepted the terms?"

"He did, and he has persuaded General Ambedkar to follow his course." Lord Alexander's lips twitched into a slight frown. "Pelham may be an utter degenerate seeking bribe money, but at least he's honest about being bought."

Sara-Marie said nothing. The ruler of Labouchere was considered notorious for openly keeping no less than three male lovers and defying the standards of pretty much every court in the Inner Sphere in his public life. Reportedly the Grand Duke of Tamarind repeatedly considered forcing Pelham to abdicate for his nephew, but the threat of resistance and the need to keep every tax source the small Tamarindian realm had urged practical matters over moral disgust. I suppose we are no less innocent. Emissary Montberg's reports are convincing reading as to the casual corruption of the Blairs on Loric, and he's convinced the current President had his father murdered. And yet I'm due to make Frank Blair a March-Duke under the Federation.

"Whatever General Ambedkar's acceptance, I would not rate the morale or reliability of the 3rd Tamarind Guards highly," Tabitha said. "They will obey orders for now, but they are not happy with the situation, and it will take us effort to change that."

"A year of training and effort with AFFM officers might firm them up, if we're willing to delay bringing more of our militia formations up to line quality in training."

"For the future, perhaps, for now I'd recommend leaving the 3rd on Labouchere when we send the troops on to Bella I."

"A reasonable choice," Sara-Marie said. She turned her attentions to Sir James. "Has SIS determined anything about the communications issue?"

"Theories and conjecture. We know thatt the Marian offensives have been delicately planned without any obvious uptick in their communication activity through ComStar. That suggests pre-planned timetables and the use of couriers, but I feel it is too… exact."

"You imply they have their own interstellar communications? Outside of ComStar?" The idea was a concerning one, at the very least.

"We've received intelligence of devices, 'black boxes', being recovered over the last several years, and that the Terran Union military makes use of the same," said Sir James. "And there are some indications that Cajamarca had a defector from the Union, although we've found no sign of them since the chaos of the collapse. If they had such a defector, who had the knowledge to manufacture such machines, well… that would fit these circumstances."

"Or it could be very precise and planned timing," Alexander noted. "We don't know either way yet."

"As for other matters, my representatives in the observer teams are confident in the accuracy of the public reports. While the usual blandishments are being offered to secure support from local nobles for Marian conquest, there have been no enslavements, public or hidden. Imperator Corvus' pledge seems to be true."

"He may be looking to reduce the risk of intervention," noted Tabitha.

"There are other factors at play, I suspect, and a report will be issued when my sources give my analysts the data they need for projections," Sir James promised. "Until then, we will continue to monitor, and make preparations should an intervention be authorized."

Sara-Marie shook her head. "Bolan was one matter. Tamarind rejected our overtures that might have forestalled this offensive, without the slavery matter I cannot justify an intervention to preserve those who refused us."

"Given our offer amounted to annexation, I can see why the Grand Duke refused it, even if he will now regret that choice. Whatever you decide, Highness, we will be ready," Sir James answered.

"As will we," added Harding.

"Yes, I trust you all will. For now, let's move on and conclude this business. I'm feeling peckish and my dinner awaits. Are there any new developments about House Marik?"

"None as of yet. They are in hiding, certainly, but whether they have fled entirely from the old Commonwealth or remain under assumed names, we have yet to determine."

"They most likely fled to Terra," Tabitha suggested. "Or beyond, but Terra would be the safest place."

"And the ducal throne of Atreus remains vacant. With the Marik Commonwealth effectively dissolved, we cannot govern by military force forever. A new Duke must be found."

"Why not elevate an existing noble? Or grant the title to someone of the line?"

"The legitimacy would be by bayonets only," Sara-Marie pointed out. "A willing Marik accepting the status, and the elevation to March-Duke, would be a more powerful symbol."

"I doubt many Mariks will accept bending the knee to House Proctor. The founders of the first Great House of the Inner Sphere, in power for nearly eight centuries, becoming vassals to the rulers of a former Lyran border world?"

"All we need is one."

"Efforts will be redoubled then, but there are other Mariks who aren't in hiding. Distant relations, but the bloodline is there, and their legitimacy will be intact."

"That will work, if it must, but a near relative of Duke-General Elias will be preferable. And now, if I may, onto other business? My dinner is imminent and I admit to being peckish."

Taking the hint, the assembled made sure to finish business quickly.

 

[Big Steve]

BattleMech Training Grounds
Port St. William, Veracruz Continent
Coventry
New Commonwealth
17 June 3036


One of the perks of rank for Thomas was Katrina Steiner's personal invitation to use her bodyguard unit's training grounds when he pleased. Given the weeks of mostly diplomatic and military analysis work, it felt good to take the Archon up on the offer and take Liberator out for a run. The Royal Black Knight bounded across the fields under his command, charging up and down hills and occasionally taking a shot at the various target machines left on the range. He was pleased to see his skills had not declined greatly and he could still put an ER PPC shot on an enemy 'Mech at max range with only the usual difficulty.

He was half an hour into his run when his sensors picked up another machine coming up. The systems quickly identified it as a Royal Zeus with a Donegal IFF squawk. He keyed the open comm line for the range. "Hello there. Taking a run?"

A voice he'd heard only a few times so far replied. "For the same reasons as you, probably," Johanna Steiner answered. "I need a 'Mech under my feet or I may go mad."

He chuckled. "I know that feeling. Especially with the social engagements on top of work. If the invitations pile up any further I'll not have time to do my actual job."

"It's far worse on Donegal," Johanna replied. "Although I imagine Arcadia has a social season too?"

"It does, much to my regret. It seems a common bane of every world. I must always attend when asked, too, to avoid givnig offense, and that means hours of fending off would-be dowagers trying to get their daughters into my marriage bed."

"It's the same for any heir. You should see my poor brother's engagement list once he got his dukedom." Johanna chortled. "Perhaps we should see about some sim time together. I've heard stories about what a machine Liberator is.."

"I think I'd like that," Thomas replied. "I would like that very much."




After their run the two MechWarriors took a lunch at the base officer's lounge. "They eat a lot of starch here on Coventry," noted Johanna while picking at a potato salad with pasta. The remnant bone of a nice steak was a solitary item on her main plate.

Thomas, who preferred finishing salad as an appetizer, was still working on his own steak. "They do. Some of the cuisine reminds me of home, or of my father's homeworld of Ford."

"We use more egg noodles on Halfway, and on Donegal." She drew in a short sigh. "Not that I see Donegal much."

"Oh?"

"To secure her throne, my cousin Queen Raquel has disinherited about every damned Steiner alive in all of the Protectorate," Johanna said. "My family included."

"I'd heard something to that effect, I just didn't realize it was that widespread. Given her age and no heir…"

"...it's a right-tricky problem. Odds are whatever Steiner's on the scene and has any remnant favor from her will become ruler. Or we'll have another civil war."

Thomas shook his head at that. "That's not a good thing, especially for the rest of us. The Lyran Alliance needs every piece to remain strong."

"Yes, well, you must realize most Steiners are utter bastards," Johanna replied. "Archon Katrina's one of the few who cares about the actual legacy beyond her death. Queen Raquel and my brother, Ethan, are like that too, thank God. But I shudder to think of what will happen if another of the Gibbs Steiners get their hands on the throne. They just want the prestige and power. The Lyran Alliance, the dream of cooperation, that's nothing to them. They'd rather rule."

Thomas took another bite. "Well, hopefully your Queen will name a successor and it will all go smoothly."

"I pray it will," she said, in the voice of a woman certain prayer would never be enough.

 

[Big Steve]

Arcadian Embassy Residential Complex
Port St. Williams, Veracruz Continent
Coventry
New Commonwealth
25 June 3036


The day's meeting were over for Prince Thomas, and with - thankfully - no social obligations for the evening, he returned to his suites that he was sharing with Mark to find his brother going over noteputers and printouts. "Busy day, Mark?"

"None busier than your's, I imagine, just various economic and industrial reports that need sorting for the Planning Staff back home," Mark said, looking up. "I'm guessing your subject matter is as tedious as mine?"

"Today it was the logistical problems of allied operations, and how viable it would be if we all started making standardized parts to fit one another's machines." Thomas sat down. "Plus some of the intelligence people brought up reports from the Lexington Concord having some new kind of technology for modular BattleMechs."

"Modular?"

"Yes, all the weapons contained in pods that can be installed and removed in a few hours at most, allowing multiple configurations on the same chassis."

Mark whistled. "Well, that would allow for some stunning strategic flexibility. Change a machine from fire support to close range support, or to direct fire, or reconnaissance… entire companies could be altered to suit different tactical roles while on campaign."

Thomas nodded at him. "I was thinking the same thing, and how much I'd appreciate us getting something similar."

"Would be something."

A look passed between the brothers. "Mark, I can see you want to bring sometthing up," Thomas noted wryly. "Is this going to be like that time you overheard Mom and Dad giving me the 'birds and the bees' talk?"

Laughter answered him. "Oh dear. And I'd almost forgotten that. Mom was utterly speechless, until she…"

"...called out 'You are far too young to know!', yes," Thomas finished for him, chuckling as he did. "Either way, brother, you do seem to have something on your mind."

"Well, yes, I suppose. We got some letters from home. A message from Willy, from Mom and Dad. Poor Mom's is mostly the basic stuff, all this 'Federation' reform has her working like mad after all. Willy's mostly looking for advice on his courses at AMSA, and a specialty beyond MechWarrior courses."

"So I'm guessing the problem is dear old Dad?"

"More like Mom, but Dad's the one bringing it up. I don't know what'll be in yours, but Dad's making it clear Mom would not like to end up like Grandpa William. She wants to see grandchildren grow up."

Thomas let out a sigh. It was going to come up eventually. Heirs themselves need to father or bear heirs after all. "I hope he doesn't expect me to pick the first girl to throw herself at me."

"No, I think he just wants one of us to consider the matter," Mark replied. He smiled. "Or it's a quiet nudge for one of us to woo Melissa Steiner I suppose."

"With her parents right there? You saw how Speaker Luvon reacted when he just thought that noble from Alarion was suggesting betrothing Melissa to Ethan Steiner. I'd sooner fight an entire Marian legion in a Stinger."

Mark chuckled at that. "Oh, come now, big brother. The Steiner-Luvons aren't that scary."

"You didn't see their simulator scores, Mark," Thomas retorted playfully. "Or those of Arthur's cousins, the Kells. Morgan is probably better than grandfather, hell, better than Sara herself ever was."

"Point made, brother, point made. Either way, I believe it has more to do with our ages, and the fact that none of us, not a one, seems to have even considered an acceptable spouse."

Thomas noted the use of that term. "Acceptable." He chuckled softly. "Your therapist, Anne-Marie. Don't tell me you two…"

He knew he'd struck a nerve at the pain on his brother's face, but Mark quickly hid it before laughing bitterly. "The scandalvids will not get to report the romantic story of the sweet young Danais Frenchwomen who mended the prince's broken body and stole his heart. As much as they'd love to. No, Anne-Marie has her own ideas for the future, being my mistress, much less my morganatic wife, is not among them. As much as I prayed otherwise." He drew in a breath. "Beautiful and kind, and yet, because of the damned aristocracy, it was not to be. Although maybe she would have refused anyway. There were ethical considerations as my caregiver, after all."

"I'm sorry, Mark. I can't imagine how it felt."

"Being besotted? It's like having the most desirable thing in your life held half a meter over your head, and every time you reach for it, something yanks it away. But I can't complain too sharply. Anne-Marie deserves her life as she wishes it, and not a constant pin cushion for pushy scandalvid producers and presenters."

Hopefully you might find someone else, then, thought Thomas, even as he wondered about the matter himself. Aside from Angelina, very much a cousin and rather too close a relative even for the most inbred-minded nobility (not to mention not interested period) he'd not had any kind of close relationship with a woman. Beyond professional interaction, anyway.

Not that he wasn't interested in women. He felt attraction. But most of his social interactions outside of fellow officers were those forced on him by social events and his rank (and all the dowagers desperately trying to marry daughters into a ruling family). It was hard for him to imagine anything above the most base attraction for thse girls that were often trotted before him.

"I suppose there's another element there," Mark began. "You're going to be thirty in a few weeks. And I'm hitting twenty-seven. We're getting older, brother, and plenty of nobles are married by this age, especially princes. There's only been a few exceptions. Continuing the line is just too important."

Being reminded that his adult "youth" was ending prompted a small laugh ffrom Thomas. "Yes, I am getting to be the old man, aren't I?"

"Well, your third decade hasn't been entirely wasted, brother. Your Lance Lieutenant may have stolen your thunder on Bolan, but you still won commendations and honors for fighting the Marians. You made Major before thirty. I likely won't… no, don't say otherwise. I was promoted to Captain as a sympathy gesture, and the regs will likely keep me from ever getting another field assignment. I'll certainly never pilot a 'Mech again. But I'll make due, and I know you will too. As for Dad's missive, we should probably just consider it food for thought when we make the social rounds here and back home. Keep an open mind. There may be a young lady here you'll actually find you enjoy spending time with."

A habitual denial nearly formed on Thomas' lips before his mind snapped to the fact that there was, indeed, one such young lady he had enjoyed meeting and spending time with. Hauptmann Johanna Steiner.

"Also, we may get a chance to practice such, because an invitation came today." Mark held up an envelope in the colors of Katrina's royal court. He gave it to Thomas before indicating his own, already opened with fancy Gothic lettering spelling out a formal invitation in Court German.

Thomas opened his own, sighing and wondering about the occasion.

"Oh… she didn't…" he groaned at reading the formal German.

"She did," Mark confirmed. "Congratulations, brother. Her Majesty the Archon is personally hosting your thirtieth birthday party."