SuperHeavy
Well-known member
There's that good old 'I will stab every motherfucker between me and glory in the face' Davion spirit that echoes down the generations. With one flank secured it will be interesting to see how far he can push the Dracs.
The Best of Enemies (A Battletech AU)
- Thread starter Yellowhammer
- Start date
Knowledgeispower
Ah I love the smell of missile spam in the morning
I get the feeling that if nothing else Robinson will be liberated a fair bit earlier than in canon
PsihoKekec
Swashbuckling Accountant
And if there is a long lasting detente with the Confederation, then it maybe won't be lost again in the 2nd SW.
Knowledgeispower
Ah I love the smell of missile spam in the morning
Having say at least another dozenish regiments available in the Draconis March due to all the butterflies would probably suffice on that Front
PsihoKekec
Swashbuckling Accountant
On the downside, due to less dire situation there will not enough pressure to do the combined arms reform, staying in the ''mechs über alles'' mode.
Knowledgeispower
Ah I love the smell of missile spam in the morning
Nah the lessons they've already learned should be more than sufficient to fix that problem
PsihoKekec
Swashbuckling Accountant
And yet in OTL they didn't do this until Melissa Davion, with war going less bad for them they will have even less incentive to do it in this TL.
SuperHeavy
Well-known member
Some of that might have been down to the sheer desperation of getting anything in the path of assaulting forces as fast as possible and no spare units to allow for experimentation. With a little breathing room between being nuked flat changes might be able to spread through the ranks faster.
The Best of Enemies: Chapter 7
Yellowhammer
Well-known member
The Best Of Enemies (A First Succession War Battletech AU) -- Chapter VII
“War is merely the continuation of politics by other means” -- Carl von Clausewitz, Vom Kriege (On War)
“War is merely the continuation of politics by other means” -- Carl von Clausewitz, Vom Kriege (On War)
CCS Míng Liàng, Outbound to Zenith Point, Liao, Tikonov Commonality, Capellan Confederation
3 January 2798 (Seventeen Months Since the Kentares Massacre Began)
“Tea, Celestial Wisdom?” The short asian man with the refined features of the Han Chinese predominant among the Sheng great nobility of the Capellan Confederation looked at the Chinese woman strapped into her seat opposite to him.
Ilsa Liao spoke absently. “Please, Lord Teng.” She then caught the zero-gee drinking bulb of tea as it floated across the cabin of the Leopard-class Dropship while apparent microgravity shifted during their turnover to start the deceleration burn to the nadir jump point of Liao Prime.
“I confess that I was hoping for better and more refined fare than spacecraft rations and more comfortable quarters than sleeping cocoons for our time together, Celestial Wisdom.” Shonso Elias Teng, second son of Duke Xiao Teng of St. Ives spoke idly.
Ilsa pulled the drinking nipple from her mouth to respond. “I confess that I would find the Soaring Dragon Waterfall Resort on Sian to be more comfortable for my promised time spent with you, Lord Teng. But the State and my duties come first and foremost, and we are at war. Sacrifices must be made for the good of us all.”
“That is true, Celestial Wisdom. But we who make the decisions that guide the Confederation must sometimes retreat from the harsh demands of our duties to enjoy the fruits of our wise stewardship of our lessers. That keeps our minds harmonious and our decisions enlightened.`` He blinked as he noticed Ilsa’s brow wrinkle minutely as she drank the tea. “Is the tea not to your liking, Celestial Wisdom?”
Ilsa nodded, wisps of her hair escaping the tight bun and hairnet restraining it to float around her head like a Medusa’s snakes. “I fear that the so-called tea that went into this bulb is of poor quality and watered down considerably.” She observed smoothly, her considering eyes lingering on the noble opposite her. “Have you tried it?” She asked. It was CCAF-standard ‘ration tea’, not the best, certainly, but not undrinkable. It had a kick like a mule to keep the soldier awake, which was what was important.
Elias shuddered. “Of course not! I brought my own supply aboard, Celestial Wisdom. Jade Dragon Oolong in fact. It was freshly harvested from my family's plantations on Warlock. I shall have some sent up for us to enjoy rather than that pot swill from the supplies aboard. I suggest that you investigate and have the corrupt supply officer responsible for that abomination flogged to teach him his duties. Still, what can one expect, after all? ‘You shouldn’t waste good iron on nails or good men for soldiers’, as the ancestors observed. With the exception of the Mechwarrior elite, naturally.”
Ilsa finished off the tea bulb. “Go ahead and have that tea sent up, Lord Teng. You should be aware that the attack plan will be using Jump Infantry to strike certain objectives. Battlemechs are the Kings of the Battlefield, but they cannot easily enter buildings to hit specific targets, no? If you cannot work with the Fifth and Seventh Bulun Jump Infantry I must regretfully find a different commander who can accomplish the mission. They have their parts to play as well in our strike, and all must succeed or all shall fail.”
“Of course I shall inform the Coiled Serpent to work alongside the infantry to accomplish our objectives. Especially with you observing as I lead them, victory is assured, Celestial Wisdom.” Elias Teng confidently spoke. “Then we can celebrate our victory over the Marik dogs as we return together to Sian. The resort will still be there, after all.”
...remember, Ilsa, even the Celestial Wisdom cannot command Yen-Lo-Wang…. Her grandmother’s voice spoke to her.
Ilsa’s happy smile never reached her calculating eyes when an aide opened the hatch. “So let us drink tea while we rendezvous with the rest of the strike force and I brief you in on the plan that the Strategios have developed for our victory…”
-----------------------------------
Royal Court, Davion Palace, New Avalon, Crucis March, Federated Suns
9 January 2798 (Eleven Months Since the Kentares Massacre Ended)
First Prince Paul Davion collapsed into an armchair in the conference room that he had taken over as part of his preparations for the High Council meeting.
His hands shook as he stared at them numbly.
The antique clock in the corner ticked off the seconds until the High Council would reconvene to discuss his policy suggestions.
While they were no longer the power that they had been before Simon Davion established the Principality, they did have influence and he needed to work with them. Not least because he had plans to reform the Suns to clean out the sloth and rot that had nearly doomed them when the Snakes attacked. He’d need the nobility and the people to follow where he would lead them, and stepping on toes unnecessarily would not help.
He blinked as someone’s hand put down a glass of water on the table in front of him and a very familiar voice spoke in his ear.
“You look like death warmed over, Big Bro.”
Paul turned his head and focused on the smirking teenager in cadet uniform standing next to him. “P-Peter? What the hell are you doing here!? Don’t you have classes?”
Peter’s grin widened. “Nope! Yesterday was Grain Rebellion Day and so we get the Monday following off when the First Prince permits the traditional waiver. Remember?”
Paul blinked blankly, vaguely remembering that he had signed some paperwork about releasing AFFS Military Education personnel on a pass for the planetary holiday -- Yesterday? The day before? Last week? It was all flowing together now for him…. -- well sometime in the recent past. He did know that he certainly hadn’t gotten a break from his duties and responsibilities anytime recently, though.
“I… guess?” He finally replied to Peter as he focused on his insufferably energetic little brother.
“Anyway, thanks for that, Big Bro! I made Cadet-Corporal Below the Zone too! See?” Peter tapped the double dark green rectangular ‘Scars’ with white borders newly sewn to his uniform sleeve as his new rank.
Paul smiled and clasped his brother’s forearm to forearm like they had done as boys. Peter levered him out of the chair with a grunt and made it a back-slapping hug.
Paul felt something inside him unclench a bit at the familiar solidity of his brother’s unconditional support.
“Anyway, good job making the cut early like I did, Peter. Now don’t lose them in one of your pranks!” Paul gave a happy smile as he chided his brother. ”Don’t make me turn that into an order!”
Peter laughed. “No need, Paul. I’ll be good. Besides,” Peter sobered and spoke in a serious tone, “I’m the Heir-Presumptive now. I have to set a good example for the dynasty now. Especially since after Dad…died. I could have it land on me at any moment.”
“Yeah,” Paul said in a matching tone. “I’ll do my best to keep that from happening to you, Peter. I’ll do my best to at least let you get used to the responsibility of leading men as a cadet, and as a junior officer before using you for political and dynastic roles. But it’s my duty to lead my people and the nation. I don’t have the luxury of shirking this now. If I ever could….” Paul broke off and sighed deeply as he visibly shoved that line of thought aside.
Peter embraced Paul again as his big brother wept.
Peter then grinned as he spoke to try to lighten his brother’s mood. “So what’s with the sword and the monkey suit, Bro? I don’t remember you being a clotheshorse before.”
Paul laughed faintly. “You know how I love history, Pete?”
“Sure. You introduced me to the great generals and their books when we were kids, after all. So?” Peter gave his brother a flat ‘get on with it’ stare
“Well a large part of power is symbolism. There’s two fundamental types of leaders when you get down to it. The first guy out of the trench yelling ‘Keep Up! Follow Me!’ and the last guy out of the trench with a SMG to shoot stragglers yelling ‘Charge!’. Both can work to get the job done. Amaris was an utter evil bastard, but he also nearly took over the Inner Sphere using the second type. I want to be the first type. Higher risk to me and the nation, but higher reward since my men see me doing my duty so they are inspired by my example as not to disappoint me.” Paul explained between sips of ice water.
“So you plan to be a warrior-Prince like your Capellan girlfriend then.” Peter finished for him with a devilish grin. “Damn shame she’s a Liao, she should have been a Davion with the big brass balls she has swinging.”
Paul blushed red to the roots of his hair as the sibling teasing hit home.
“Ilsa’s not my girlfriend!” He protested, then mumbled. “Not that I would mind if it wasn’t for the politics….” He visibly controlled himself, took a long drink of water and then spoke in a normal tone. “Anyway… Pete! How’d you know?”
“My bodyguard detachment talks to your bodyguard detachment and then they talk to me.” Peter shrugged. “RUMINT around campus is that you are pen-paling her every other day to keep ComStar in business.”
Peter sighed. “I send video messages just once a week. Generally. Got too much else to do, just like she does. So… the cat’s out of the bag… how much heat am I getting?”
“Less than you may think, Bro. She’s not a Snake. Couple grumbles because of the slanted eyes from the Marcher students but yeah, that’s their problem. The footage of her hitting Mirach and stomping the Snakes flat… well that played real well in the dorms. She’s hotter than an overheating Flashman too, so yeah. 10/10 on the girlfriend scale among my squad and the other folks in the platoon. Hot and crazy both.” Peter chuckled. “Anyone who charges two Hunchies and a S-Hawk in a Thud’s not all there upstairs. Even to save her downed pilot and that little kid. As I said, she’s got big brass ones and is a hell of a Mechwarrior.”
Paul grinned goofily. “Yeah, Ilsa’s a hell of a Mechwarrior, hot as an Alamo nuke detonating.”
Peter nodded in agreement, then Paul looked into Peter’s eyes.
“But it’s not that about Ilsa that gets me. She gets it, Pete. She understands that we serve our people; she knows what it’s like to have all this dropped on her unprepared; she knows what it’s like to lose Dad unexpectedly and have to carry on. Carry on right, I mean, not like when that Snake took it out on Kentares.”
Peter grinned. “So, have you picked out baby names yet, Paul?”
“Peter!” Paul blushed again and spluttered. “It’s not like.… I mean if it wasn’t for the goddamn war, and what the Snakes tried with Mary Davion, then maybe possibly for us. I don’t know if we can make it work. St. George’s Spear, Peter, I haven’t even met her face to face yet! The cease-fire signing will be the first time that I’ll lay eyes on her. I have a war to win and a government to reform to make that happen.” He glanced at the clock. “And I need to get back to the High Council. Don’t want them to get any ideas about my gambit just yet.”
“Gambit, Paul?” Peter asked as Paul began to walk to the door.
“Yeah, gambit. As First Lord of the Star League, I can claim the title of Duke of New Avalon, which I just did. Which gives me not just feudal control of New Avalon, but also the thirty-seven additional systems that DOME terraformed for us as per Alexander’s conditions to join the Star League. That means I will be bestowing new titles and handing out landholdings there to reward people and families to bind me to them. I’ll need that power base to gather support for the other things I need to do to win this damn war.”
Peter nodded along with the analysis with a growing smile.
Then the Davion brothers got matching shark-like smiles at Paul’s final iron-hard words as he reached the door.
“Ilsa’s price for our alliance was the head of Jinjiro Kurita on a silver platter. Her knight will never disappoint his fair Lady Liao when it comes to slaying the Dragon.”
Autor's Note: To clarify the reference, Mary Davion was the eldest daughter of First Prince Roger Davion during the Star league era. She fell in love with and married Soto Kurita, the younger brother of then-Coordinator Takiro Kurita. As part of the wedding arrangements, she relinquished her claim on the Suns. Unfortunately, the Kuritas pressed the claim of her son Vincent Kurita after Mary's death in 2715 using falsified documents to try to overthrow Mary's brother Joseph Davion I, who had been on the throne for over a decade. Even more unfortunately, the then First Lord Johnathon Cameron was a paranoid asshole who dithered, and didn't slap down the Kuritas when they invaded the Draconis March to start the War of Davion Succession. Needless to say, this raises some problems with a Liao/Davion wedding, since once bitten....
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Bear Ribs
Well-known member
That's like making the price of buying tanks that you have to accept free Battlemechs with them.
walkir
Member
Dunno, that head would fit well in the Kentares Memorial.
PsihoKekec
Swashbuckling Accountant
Being a third rate pompous prick, Elias Teng kind of makes Ilsa's long distance boyfriend look that much better.
Better not besmirch it that way, best to dispose it as toxic waste.
Better not besmirch it that way, best to dispose it as toxic waste.
Bear Ribs
Well-known member
Could always use as a fixture in the Kentares memorial public bathroom.
The Best of Enemies: Chapter 8
Yellowhammer
Well-known member
The Best Of Enemies (A First Succession War Battletech AU) -- Chapter VIII
“Be extremely subtle even to the point of formlessness. Be extremely mysterious even to the point of soundlessness. Thereby you can be the director of the opponent's fate.” -- Sun Tzu, 孫子兵法 (The Art of War)
“Be extremely subtle even to the point of formlessness. Be extremely mysterious even to the point of soundlessness. Thereby you can be the director of the opponent's fate.” -- Sun Tzu, 孫子兵法 (The Art of War)
CCS Míng Liàng, Zenith Point, Liao, Tikonov Commonality, Capellan Confederation
5 January 2798
“My fellow Citizens, your Duchess is pleased by your hard work and dedication! Work hard and be diligent of the threat of spies, shirkers, and saboteurs while I return to Sian to direct the greater affairs of the Commonwealth!”
Ilsa watched the brilliantly robed and bejeweled Chancellor of the Capellan Confederation in the holo transmission being beamed live from Liao to all the shipping in the system -- and across the Confederation. Her eyes lingered upon the robed and coiffed image of Mei Ying standing at the Celestial Wisdom’s elbow. Few knew that woman was actually her body double whose job it was to court assassination for the Celestial Wisdom.
Pray for me, Older Cousin….
“K-F Drive Activation in Five…. Four… Three… Two… One….”
In a flash of light and radiation caused by her Jumpship’s transition to hyperspace, Ilsa Liao departed the system that her ancestors had used as a stepping stone to become one of the six most powerful dynasties in human history.
Operation Léitíng began.
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CCS Black Star of India, .10 AU above Zenith Point, Mandal System, Tikonov Commonality, Capellan Confederation
8 January 2798
Ilsa Liao relaxed as Shíshī shook and shuddered. The leader of the pair of exoskeletons gestured. With a yank heavy cables played out, reeling her and her battlemech in like a fish caught on a line as they pulled on her arms and legs.
Then she grunted as the straps holding her secured in her command chair dug into her breasts, waist and thighs painfully.
Her radio crackled. “Locking you down now.” As she watched her cameras, a horde of spacesuited workers converged toward her on reaction jets with tie-down straps and chains.
She grinned in relief as she looked across the massive hold filled with Battlemech after Battlemech painted bright orange with black stripes mimicking their namesake. Prominent on their chests were the blue Steiner Fist and the snarling tiger of one of the most notorious of the LCAF’s regiments.
The Tamar Tigers.
The grin widened and grew savage as Elias Teng’s Warhammer was moved into the bay by a pair of cargo tugs.
Through the open hatch, she could see the starscape with the unwavering diamond pinpricks of hard vacuum.
As she watched, a fresh star blossomed as the Leopard that had taken her to this system began to head toward the waiting Jumpship.
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Oliver, Free Worlds League
8 January 2796
“EMERGENCE SIGNATURE! WARSHIP!!”
The panicked scream filled the planetary defense command bunker.
Heads snapped around.
Alarms wailed.
“Jesus there’s more!”
The primary monitor lit up with the transmission from the surveillance satellite at the Nadir Point. As the staff watched in horror, an Aegis heavy cruiser with a massive Steiner Fist on the prow under the ship’s name emerged.
LCS IRONWOOD
As the alarms howled, naval capital lasers lashed out, blowing apart the helpless League shipping at the jump point and swatting aside the rest of the defenses like a Leviathan against minnows.
Right before the screen went dark forever, the image of multiple lesser warships and troop transports was seen.
-----------------------------------
Secure Classified Location, Marik, Marik Commonwealth, Free Worlds League
9 January, 2798
“Alpha Priority message inbound from Oliver, sir!”
Paper rustled as the report changed hands. The middle-aged man sitting at the head of the table read it and then scowled. “Bring up the Terra-ward border map!” Kenyon ‘The Eagle’ Marik snapped out in a fierce bark.
The five gold braids of his rank shimmered and shone on his shoulders and a full rack of medals won in his wars glistened in the light of the projector in contrast from the midnight blue uniform tunic. The harsh electronic light turned the lines cut in his face around his aquiline nose into canyons and bleached the color from his receding gray hair. The overall image presented was that of a bird of prey perched on his latest kill.
The holo-display shifted to show the V shape of the borders of the Free Worlds League. To the top almost on the edge of the map, a cluster of isolated worlds shone a steady defiant purple in the light blue sea of Lyran worlds. A blunt purple wedge reached out toward the isolated island that was all that was left of the Bolan Thumb. A second thicker wedge of purple jutted into the Isle of Skye around Solaris. At the very tip of the point, a purple world alternated blue in strobing flashes as alphanumeric codes showed the gist of the report that he had just read.
Three ‘Mech regiments with a heavy naval flotilla hitting Oliver…
The scowl deepened as he looked at the potential targets further in League space.
If this was an attempt to destroy the Helm Cuirassiers on Oliver and seize the planet, that would be bad enough. But a deeper strike could be catastrophic.
If this massive commitment of men and increasingly rare WarShips signaled a strategic shift by the Steiners….
His eyes raked over the ex-Hegemony worlds that he had claimed for the League and now ruled. Then they continued to the worlds of the Stewart Commonwealth and Marik Commonwealth.
Pollux, Van Diemen IV, Tyrfing, the poisoned shell of New Dallas where the fool militia had resisted rather than join, the shipyards on Connaught, Irian, Castor, Dieudonne….
He had to act.
Suddenly a boyhood memory intruded. His ribs ached with the phantom pain from when they had been broken by his worthless drunk of a ‘father’. He scowled at the map to force it to obey his desires while the familiar fire of anger filled his body and caused his teeth to grind while the hot blood caused his temples to throb.
Kenyon’s eyes looked to the flashing purple icon representing his only surviving son Thaddeus’ heavy strike force. For a brief moment he contemplated recalling Thaddeus to counter this incursion.
No. He was strong, not weak. He could defeat this with what was at hand. Leave Thaddeus to keep striking Rahneshire to keep the Elsies off balance.
“Send a general alert to Sector I. Notify all commands to expect major LCAF incursion and heavy raiding. Release strategic weapons to local control.” Kenyon snapped out and his subordinates sprang to life.
His eyes then found Director Allison of SAFE. “What do the Elsies have on hand to hit us with if this is just the beginning of a strike out of Skye?” He demanded.
“Eight regiments at last report in Skye are freed up. Some of which are being rebuilt from captured materiel, whatever production that they have on hand, and battlefield salvage but can be used in combat.”
Enough for a significant thrust, dammit.
“What about the Crappies?”
“They are hard pressed fighting the AFFS around Saint Ives. That’s why they didn’t exploit their seizure of Anegasaki from us last year after the Twenty-first Centauri Lancers destroyed the Fourth Militia. It’s simmered down apart from the ongoing fighting in the Sarna Bulge and around Andurien. They even gave up trying to retake Andurien apart from the normal raiding from Xanthe III and Kalmar.” Allison said as the map slid to show the bites taken out of the Capellan Confederation. Gold and green icons flashed on the far border around Saint Ives. The League’s border with the Capellans was secure save for the purple and green flashes indicating the continuing heavy meat-grinder fighting in the stalemated bulge that had nearly cut the Confederation in half when he thrust nearly to Sarna in the heady early days of the war.
“Movement alert for the Third, Eleventh, and Seventeenth Marik Militia, and the Second and Fifth Atrean Dragoons. They can pick the Third Naval flotilla out of Marik to spearhead our counterattack.” Kenyon declared as icons began to stream up from reserve positions in the Marik Commonwealth toward the Lyran border and the Terran Hegemony. He then pointed to a cluster of icons near the Periphery where he had driven the second wedge in to reclaim Andurien. “We can shift the Eighteenth, Nineteenth, Twenty-first, and Twenty-Fourth Militia plus the Second Guards up the front into strategic reserve; they need to be rotated out anyway. Any mercenaries and provincial forces that we can grab too will consolidate here while we look at a spoiling attack into Skye.”
“What about the Warships if we are the target? It will take time for us to move the replacements up from Andurien.”
“Shift… half of the Irian picket squadron to us. That’s enough to backstop Connaught if the shipyards there are being targeted to hit them again. And Connaught can cover the ‘Mech factories on Irian if this is a raid like we did on Hesperus II two years ago. The Irian Weapons Works factories are hardened with surface to space defense bunkers, they will have to land troops to damage them and we have two regiments on planet plus the militia.”
-----------------------------------
Asgard, Tharkad, Donegal Province, Lyran Commonwealth
13 January, 2798
“Damn that woman!” Richard Steiner, Nineteenth Archon of the Lyran Commonwealth swore. He then looked at Director Karl von Wolff of LIC. “You’re certain?”
The elderly spy nodded, speaking with a thick Arcturan accent. “Yah. It’s not the Davions, they don’t have the ships or any bases nearby, the Dracs don’t need an excuse and it’s not their style. Plus they are tied down with the Fed Suns and our raiding campaign against them. The League’s not that crazy. So it’s the Liaos. We cross-referenced the images, and it’s not the Ironwood, we know that was lost over Dieron three years ago when we hit it.”
Richard began to pace back and forth. “What’s her strategy?”
“Archon, she clearly wants us to fight the League with this false-flag heavy strike. LIC has 87% confidence that the reports of fighting between the AFFS and CCAF forces around Saint Ives and New Syrtis are severely exaggerated. Operative Dove on New Avalon is reporting that Feddie-Capellan ties are strengthening over their shared disgust for Jinjiro Kurita’s barbarism. He thinks that it is likely that there will be another AFFS counteroffensive against the Combine soon, possibly using troops shifted from the Capellan march under cover of the ‘fighting’.” The spymaster, looking more than ever like a bald-headed professor explained.
Richard brightened up noticeably at the thought of the AFFS taking it to the Combine again to relax the pressure on the Commonwealth. He then listened to the briefing. “Ilsa Liao is smart enough not to start a two front war if she can help it. the time to do so would have been immediately after the death of John Davion when the Feddies were in disarray. That means that the Capellans will be striking the League in some way with their own remaining fresh troops. Clearly part of their plan is to pin this raid on us to get Marik looking the wrong way for their strike. Considering Kenyon Marik’s temper, it may just work.”
Richard sat down in the chair and ran his fingers through his blond hair. “Right, We alert General Lestrade in Skye to expect heavier League activity, likewise General Hasseldorf in the Thumb. Get me a list of what forces we actually have in truth and not on paper that I can shift to trouble spots. Still no word from General Kelswa?”
A headshake answered him. “Nothing since he made planetfall on Benjamin with the Tamar Tigers, Archon. All we have is unconfirmed reports of heavy fighting there. We do have reports that the 3rd Regimental Combat Team on Sendai are mobilizing to pack up their dependents. They may be looking to leave the Dragon’s service like the 28th Heavy Horse just did over the Kentares Massacre.”
“Approach them secretly and offer a contract! We need all the skilled troops we can get and we have the money!” Richard cheered up even more.
“Zu Befehl, Archon!” Erik said. “I shall tap the funding to get them on the LCAF payroll when they make their move. Last but not least the result of Jinjiro Kurita’s attempt to restore morale in the Combine is… mixed. It seems that even torture or summary execution cannot quiet the rumors of his madness and culpability for the atrocities on Kentares IV. He is fixated on the Suns and content to let his half-brother Zabu manage the realm and the war against us while he commands the attack on New Avalon personally. We think that he has shot his bolt there, the AFFS is no longer a pushover, and while he might be able to take New Avalon, it will only be over piles of bodies that will wreck the DCMS for a generation or more. The Fed Suns are fighting with more fanaticism than the Combine at their worst now and Paul Davion has provided them a rallying point.”
Richard muttered. “Lucky bastard to actually have an army that wants to fight. No rest for the wicked here. I need to keep trying to get a handle on the LCAF and sack as many clowns in uniform as I can before we have more military disasters.”
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Strategy Room, The Fox’s Den, New Avalon, Crucis March, Federated Suns
14 January, 2798
Paul looked down the table at a middle-aged officer as the meeting was dismissed. “Field Marshal Hasek, a moment of your time please?”
“Certainly, Prince Paul.” James Hasek, Duke of New Syrtis walked to the side of the young First Prince. “What do you need me for?”
Paul pointed at an angry scarlet planet on the holomap. “Kentares IV. We need to liberate that and give succor to any survivors. It’s a moral imperative. I want you to take the Fifth and Sixth Syrtis Fusiliers, Second Dragonlords, Fourth and Fifth Davion Guards, and the Fifth and Seventh Crucis Lancers and smash your way to it. Give me the Second, Seventh, Eighth, and Twelfth Syrtis for the drive to Markesan. That plus the First and Twenty-Eighth Avalon Hussars and First and Second Guards should be able to collapse that side of the bulge. That way we still have the surviving Robinson Chevaliers, Tancredi Loyalists, and the rest of the Hussars to push in the other side out of Fairfax and Delphos. Isaac Sandoval will be in overall command there.”
While the two watched the map, animated gold arrows hammered both sides of the bulge, squeezing and compressing it while isolating DCMS troops into pockets for destruction.
Hasek sighed deeply. “As long as the damn Capellans don’t stab us in the back out of Tikonov or Saint Ives, SWORD is workable. You really do trust the Liao… woman.” His voice lowered. “You better pay my price for the use of my men. ”
Paul nodded, still adjusting the scenario parameters as variations on the attacks played out. “Ilsa hates the Dracs like we both do, and she hasn’t played me wrong yet. I’m aware of what you want from me and I’ll make it happen.”
“I wish I shared your naivety in dealing with those vipers, my Prince. But I and my family know what to expect out of Capella.” Hasek said sourly. “You do have a strong argument that we must turn back the Combine menace now, unfortunately. The Liao are treacherous, but at least this one has shown no signs of that Snake’s madness and bloodlust. Just remember that when she turns on us, my people will suffer and my worlds will be the ones that burn when she slips the dagger in our backs.”
Paul turned to his Field Marshal as the strategic computers showed more potential outcomes for the attack plan. “I know that you think me blind. But we need those men on the Drac front now before the DCMS gets their feet under them and goes back on the offensive. It’s a major gamble, yes. But it’s one we have to take….”
Another possible scenario ran. The gold arrows on the left side of the bulge were cut off at the root by a set of jade green spearheads stabbing them in the back to assault Chesterton as their supply lines were cut.
Liao green.
“... after all, ‘who dares, wins’, Marshal Hasek. And we must win this war or we have no future as free men.”
Paul pulled up another file to show Operation DAO. “I trust that you approve of what I’ll be doing with the planned follow-up out of Chesterton?” His voice was filled with eager anticipation.
Hasek’s eyes glittered with hatred and his face was savage as he watched the new attack begin. “Yes, my prince!”
Author's Note: Having a malus to your black ops and counterintelligence while the person planning to bend you over has a bonus to black ops in the official strategic-level simulation rules sucks sometimes.... (also LIC has a bonus to intelligence operations since they are top-three in this era with Feddie DMI pre-Paul's reforms establishing MIIO and SAFE bringing up the rear). Also, this shows how Ilsa's butterflies are having major ripple effects.
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PsihoKekec
Swashbuckling Accountant
DCMS is going to lose entire units here, as AFFS is going for elimination, rather than just trying to push them out. Still it's going to be bloody for them as well.
Maybe he will finally launch a rescue mission TTL, once League is distracted by the Capellan offensive in the Andurien region.
The Best of Enemies: Chapter 9
Yellowhammer
Well-known member
The Best Of Enemies (A First Succession War Battletech AU) -- Chapter IX
“The whole secret lies in confusing the enemy, so that he cannot fathom our real intent.” -- Sun Tzu, 孫子兵法 (The Art of War)
“The whole secret lies in confusing the enemy, so that he cannot fathom our real intent.” -- Sun Tzu, 孫子兵法 (The Art of War)
’FWLS Sofia Cameron-Jones‘, L1 Point for Irian VI, Irian System, Marik Commonwealth, Free Worlds League
17 January 2798
With a flash of radiation, a Scout-class Jumpship appeared from hyperspace in the outer reaches of the system. The swollen mass of the dark blue-green gas giant dwarfed the intruder into its realm.
Ilsa Liao took a deep breath as the queasiness of the K-F drive’s activation faded and the universe once more made sense around her.
She looked across the dropship’s bridge while the crew hurried to their duties. “Position check?”
“We have arrived on location, Celestial Wisdom. No contacts. Our information about the outer-system and planetary movements is correct.” The captain answered her.
There was a thud and the massive bloated bulk of the Dropship shook as they detached themselves from the Jumpship who had brought them to this desolate and unobserved corner of space.
Then, with a bass five-part harmonic rumble that vibrated everyone’s bones, the Dropship’s Bally Tech Super X-40 Drive lit off.
A fusion torch stretched behind them as a plasma plume stretching for thousands of meters.
Apparent gravity manifested itself, stabilizing at half a standard gee.
Then a digital clock above the helm began to count down.
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Ilsa took a deep breath and visibly braced herself. She turned to the communication officer. “Send the messages out now! Initiate Phase II of Operation Léitíng at time mark.”
Above their heads, the red numbers moved once more and the days remaining counter dropped a digit.
The communication officer spoke into the intercom. “Send code phrases for Operation Léitíng phase two.”
“Acknowledged. Messages sent.”
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’LCS Ironwood’, Zenith Point, New Dallas System System, Free Worlds League
17 January 2798
“Message received from our mobile HPG, Kong-sang-shao! Dāng nín yídòng shí, xiàng léidiàn yì yàng shuāi dǎo! Date and time follows.”
The commodore nodded and steepled his fingers where he floated in microgravity. “Tightbeam the other fleet elements and synchronize clocks. We shall be going with Léitíng plan five if successful, six if not. Service to the State!”
“Service to the State!”
As the flotilla received its orders, a matching clock to the one on board Ilsa Liao’s dropship began to count down.
The Commodore looked at the display of the dead system that had once been a thriving Hegemony regional capital world. A world that Stefan Amaris had mortally wounded in the Coup with the WMD usage and destruction of terraforming equipment, and then Kenyon Marik had given the coupe de grace.
One among thousands of planets humanity had made habitable, colonized, and lived upon.
One among dozens of planets that humanity had now gone mad and slain.
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FWLS Duchess Sofia Cameron-Jones, Domovoi Lunar Mining Facilities, Domovoi (moon of Irian V), Irian System, Marik Commonwealth, Free Worlds League
19 January 2798
“That’s the last of them.” The mine foreman pointed as the CargoMechs scuttled out of the hatch. “Seven thousand five hundred tons of refined iridium as per our counteract with IWW.”
The captain flipped through the paperwork and then spoke with the Hindi accent of a native of Regulus. “Looks good to me. All the proper paperwork filed?”
“Of course. This is the scheduled monthly shipment.”
“Good. See you next month.”
With that, Captain Sooraj Harish headed aboard his family-owned and operated cargo dropship. “Right, let’s get ready for departure!” He looked over at his wife “Any messages while I was out?”
“Just that your sister Kunti finally has the due date for her twin boys, and her astrologer passed along some lucky numbers as a favor to you as the normal data dump we got.”
Sooraj’s eyes widened in his swarthy face. “I see! Well when we get to Irian III I’ll have to HPG her back and see if I can’t pick up a gift for her then!”
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FWLS Duchess Sofia Cameron-Jones, Enroute to Irian III Irian System, Marik Commonwealth, Free Worlds League
23 January 2798
A head exploded as a laser pistol’s discharge flash-boiled the brain of the man in the captain’s chair.
Half an hour later, an airlock opened and a dozen corpses drifted free into the void of space.
No one noticed.
Yet.
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’FWLS Duchess Sofia Cameron-Jones’, Enroute to Irian III, Irian System, Marik Commonwealth, Free Worlds League
31 January 2798
Ilsa Liao walked up and down the ranks of young men and women assembled in the cargo hold for her review. She made a point of looking each soldier in the eyes from the newest recruit to the most senior officer. Finally satisfied, she walked to the front and about-faced. She looked one last time at the horde of eager Slavic faces under their shiny plasteel helmets with the orange front square patch for a regiment assigned to Tamar.
She took a deep breath and spoke in fluent Russian. “Comrades! Fellow citizens! Today, you and I both are embarked on a mission of great importance, upon which the very survival of the Confederation depends! I could ask for no better or more loyal companions than those who stand before me to guard my back as I shall guard yours! I know that you must march today under the Steiner Fist and not the colors of Tikonov, but that is because deception is the foundation of war. Know that while we may not return from our mission, we shall succeed! Our children and children’s children will remember what we shall do here while the trumpet summons us to defend the Confederation until the youngest star burns out!”
Steel cleared the sheath as Ilsa Liao drew her dao. She held the gleaming blade above her head in both hands as her voice reached a crescendo.
“Who among you today shall follow me to strike the Marik a blow to the heart! To stop his assault upon us?”
Her blazing eyes stared past the eyes and into the souls of her men as her voice reached a crescendo.
“Who among you today shall fight alongside me to protect our parents, wives, children, friends, family and homeworld? Step forward if you have the heart to follow where I shall lead, sons of Bulun!”
With a crash, a thousand boots hit the deck as the mass of Jump Infantry surged forward like a great unstoppable wave just as their forefathers had rolled over the Wehrmacht with the bodies of their own dead and wounded at Moscow, Stalingrad, Kursk, and Berlin.
Over the growing roar of the infantry, Ilsa’s soprano voice called the regimental motto and battle cry of the Fifth Bulun Jump Infantry. Her steel gleamed in the light as she brandished it.
“Stal' za Rodina! Stal' dlya Tikonova!!”
The surf roar of noise broke and shook the fifty-thousand ton dropship as a thousand hands drew and brandished the vibrobayonets for their Mauser 960 rifles overhead in a forest of steel.
“URRAH!!!”
Ilsa raised her hand. The room slowly subsided so that she could be heard again.
She turned to the bearded man in a robe and cassock standing next to her. She then bowed in visible respect to him. “Reverend Father Alexander, kindly pray for me alongside your flock when you tend to them before the battle which we must go into. I deliver them into your care now.”
With a matching bow, the regimental chaplain took her place as she walked from the room.
Elias Teng was waiting for her in the hall outside.
“Celestial Wisdom,” he spoke as the hatch closed behind her, “why are you wasting your time with infantry soldiers. Surely if they were of any worth, they would be Mechwarriors!”
Ilsa spoke quietly with tears in her voice. “I expect maybe two of every three soldiers in there to make it home in the best case. They know that they are likely dead men walking; soldiers talk and the holes in the ranks cannot be hidden. If they break, if they flag or falter, then we are all dead if we are lucky. They, plus your Fifth Company, are all that will be holding our escape route open.”
Teng said nothing and his face revealed little of his thoughts.
She turned and looked at him. “Colonel Teng, we all must do our parts from the smallest to the greatest for the Confederation to thrive for the good of all. That is what I have been taught, that is what I have seen, and that is what I shall live my life for. Yes, Mechwarriors like us are elites, and yes, we have greater responsibility.”
Her voice grew contemplative as she listened to the faint chorus of Russian responses to the priest and his acolytes through the steel of the door. “But one of those nervous young recruits I just spoke to may be the difference between our success and failure when we make planetfall. Men live for themselves, but they die for a cause, for a belief, for a symbol. To that young recruit, the Confederation is something in books and taught in school, a flag on a pole, the yuan in his paycheck. An unnoticed abstraction around him, like a fish does not notice water. But I am real to him. I am a face and a voice and a name who looked into his eyes, told him of his worth and value and importance in the grand scheme of things. To him I am the Confederation. I am now real so that he can draw strength and courage from me should he be called upon to make the ultimate sacrifice for the good of us all.”
Teng looked at the hatch. “I… never saw it that way….” He finally said as they walked toward their Mechs.
“Few do, Colonel. Few do.” Ilsa said sadly. “Good men may not be called upon to be made soldiers, but they must be good enough or the State shall suffer when war comes.”
She paused at the rope ladder leading up to her Thunderbolt. “You and I are good soldiers and good men and the State is served by us well. But then are we better than those men who go to fight and die in ballistic cloth with a one-shot SRM if they are lucky and the Strategios is wise enough to properly supply them like we are properly supplied?”
Teng’s face was unreadable as he watched her climb up her Battlemech before he headed to his Warhammer.
Once inside the cockpit of Shíshī, Ilsa Liao, Chancellor of the Capellan Confederation, took a deep breath. She pushed a switch on the console while her Battlemech stirred to life. A Commtech’s face appeared in a secondary monitor from his seat in the control center of the mobile HPG that she was linked to by fiber-optic communication cable.
“Technician Sung, send the go order for Operation Léitíng. Execute immediately!”
Father, Mother, Uncle Barnabas, Grandmother, watch over me this day. Paul Davion… I wish you were here to fight alongside me, but you have your own war to win.
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Irian III, Irian System, Marik Commonwealth, Free Worlds League
31 January 2798
Eyes widened in shock at the report coming into the planetary command center.
“Full alert! Sound the alarm!”
Hoarse shouts of panic.
The news spread like a wildfire from the planetary capital.
Pilots ran to their ASFs.
Aboard Warships, Techs dragged nuclear tipped missiles from the magazines.
In cities across the planet sirens wailed.
Panic filled the streets as civilians ran for the shelters frantically.
In the garrison bases, panic was replaced by purpose.
The thunder of running feet was dwarfed by the roar of fusion engines powering up.
Then the ground shook as the first purple-painted Battlemech strode forth to do battle.
The First Succession War had suddenly come once more to Irian III, the crown jewel and most heavily industrialized planet in the Free Worlds League.
Author's Note: This episode brought to you by Timothy Seals.
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PsihoKekec
Swashbuckling Accountant
So agent/s on real DSCJ killed the crew so the dropship could trade places with fake DSCJ, which will use the alarm of LC fleet arrival to conduct it's assault.
Was that the code for the agent/s to go into action or was it meant to show the humanity behind the collateral damage numbers?
The Best of Enemies: Chapter 10 (End of Book II)
Yellowhammer
Well-known member
The Best Of Enemies (A First Succession War Battletech AU) -- Chapter X
“All warfare is based on deception. Hence, when able to attack, we must seem unable; when using our forces, we must seem inactive; when we are near, we must make the enemy believe we are far away; when far away, we must make him believe we are near.” -- Sun Tzu, 孫子兵法 (The Art of War)
“All warfare is based on deception. Hence, when able to attack, we must seem unable; when using our forces, we must seem inactive; when we are near, we must make the enemy believe we are far away; when far away, we must make him believe we are near.” -- Sun Tzu, 孫子兵法 (The Art of War)
Recharge Station, Zenith Point, Connaught System, Marik Commonwealth, Free Worlds League
0300, 26 January 2798
Senior Traffic Controller Olivia Toledana waved to the man whom she was relieving at shift turnover while she swam into the control center for the traffic through the industrial hub of Connaught. “Hola, Pete, anything new?”
“Hey Libby! Military supply convoy forming up with some ‘Mechs from Kong about to jump out. Also the techs want a look at the #3 power lines when we have a slow period and can take them down.”
“Good, another shift, another ninety eagles.” Olivia grabbed hold of the chair back. “At least I remembered to take a long piss before getting on shift. See you in six, Pete.”
“Tell me about it, any more coffee and I’ll turn into a bean. Catch you on the flip side!” Pete vacated the seat and Olivia strapped herself in. She familiarized herself with the display of Jumpship traffic and movement vectors with the unconscious ease of most of a decade of this job. “Star King, you are cleared for recharge docking, come to Zero-seven mark eleven at one-tenth gee for a three minute burn to get to 300 Kpm relative to us…”
As the Monolith began to head toward the waiting outlets that would recharge its drive in a fraction of the time needed using the more normal method of solar radiation capture, Olivia slid a hand into the pocket of her overalls.
She touched the datastick there that she had picked up on her last planetside leave. According to the labels, it contained the uncensored version of the notorious Canopian ‘entertainment product’ Stewart Schlongs Sian, and had been waved through the security screening with a knowing laugh.
But now….
She bit her lip nervously.
I hope it’s not too long….
Fortunately, her nervous sweat was mistaken for the normal stresses of her job.
0457, 26 January 2798
“Copy that Star King, your exit vector is negative zero three eig--” Olivia said between sips from her coffee bulb.
“Unscheduled Emergence Signatures! ” The shout from Inbound Tracking cut through the room like a knife.
“Size?”
Olivia bit her lip again as her hand darted into the pocket and grabbed the datastick.
“750 kilotons! Warship!”
“Madre di Dios! Alert the planet!”
Olivia slid the datastick into a slot on her terminal and hit a combination of keys to put the title screen that popped up (showing the eponymous ‘Raging Stallion’ Stewart performing with an ‘actress’ that looked quite like an underdressed young Barbara Liao) into ‘boss mode’.
“Alert sent, sir!”
Another keypress brought up a blinking cursor and Olivia typed in XCT and hit send.
An Aegis cruiser appeared, the Steiner Fist visible on the prow and the station commander paled.
“Get our fighters launched now!”
Unfortunately, it was too late as the malware on the datastick, developed by Sian University at the request of the Maskirovka team who had stolen Terran Hegemony SLIC e-war programs, locked down all internal communications. Moments later, the viral code disabled the long-range radio and data link between the station and the planet.
0548, 26 January 2798
The mood in the station was grim.
The LCN cruiser hovered in space with its broadside guns pointed at them after making a leisurely pass around the station, destroying all the jumpships and dropships in the area and using pinpoint shots from the wing of ASFs that it had carried to blow the fighter bays apart.
Boarding shuttles had followed.
While the message of the attack had been sent out, the FWL forces assigned here were four days away even at maximum burn. Doing that would risk the vital shipyards and factories on the planet should the Elsies dodge them and make their way to Connaught. Now their only hope was a naval squadron both able to jump here upon receipt of the alert and strong enough to overpower the cruiser, Lola I-class destroyer, and escorting pair of Vincent-class corvettes present.
Faint hope indeed.
The hatch opened.
Breaths were sucked in across the room as the command staff realized that the marines in armored spacesuits carrying laser weapons were not Lyrans. Instead their heraldry had the dao and arm in a triangle of the Capellan Confederation.
The leader raised his armored visor to show a Oriental face. “Good morning! We understand that you are in the recharge business and our ships need a top-off!”
Aboard Aegis-class Cruiser CCN Kalvar Lorix
“We have the station secured, Commodore!”
“Excellent, report that we shall be using Léitíng Plan Five to the forward strike team!”
The Commodore turned as the hatch opened. A middle aged Hispanic woman showing the pudginess of someone who spent too long in microgravity swam inside. “Service to the state, Agent EVITA. Now, please take a seat and you can watch what you have contributed toward.”
Olivia strapped herself in. “Service to the State. It’s good to come back to the home that my father told me about.”
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’FWLS Duchess Sofia Cameron-Jones’, Enroute to Irian III, Irian System, Marik Commonwealth, Free Worlds League
26 January 2798
Ilsa Liao looked up from the message that had been sent to the screen in the captain’s quarters and grinned. “Good, no hitches with the other half of the operation. No need to manufacture a ‘minor drive malfunction’ to slow us down. And at least the forces who will pull our strike team out are on schedule.”
Captain Sooraj Harish breathed a sigh of relief. “I… it’s a honor to meet you, Celestial Wisdom. So, if this succeeds, what will happen to me?” He then hugged his weeping wife around the shoulders.
“After we return to Sian, you and the other loyal Maskirovka agents who were key to this shall be honored. Considering your deeds on behalf of the Confederation, a waiver will allow for Citizenship for you and your family as part of the formalities for a landholding as hereditary nobility on Highspire or another planet of your choice away from the League. With some necessary changes to faces and names to avoid SAFE’s vengeance, of course.”
Sooraj’s eyes widened in shock.
“Yes, another team of agents are extracting your parents, and your wife’s grandfather as we speak. They shall leave behind bank records ‘proving’ that LIC has been paying you through ComStar’s banking systems to betray the League. After all, what other reason could there be for a couple born and raised in the League as the grandchildren of ex-SLDF soldiers from Highspire to turn upon it?” Ilsa said with an impish grin. “Along with my personal thanks for your devotion and loyalty to a state that you have not yet stepped foot into. Still, we are pricing the unhatched chicken here, We must first complete our mission to gain the rewards for loyal and faithful service.”
“Service to the State, Chancellor!”
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Secure Classified Location, Marik, Marik Commonwealth, Free Worlds League
27 January 2798
“Connaught then!” Kenyon Marik scowled at the map as it zoomed in on the planet that he had just named. He rubbed his aching ribs once more as that old pain flared up again. ‘What do we have that can join in?”
“Irian is closest and has the League II-class Destroyer FWLS Tannenberg and the Vincent-class corvettes POS Valor and POS Victory from Regulus” Admiral Konstantopolous replied as he looked at his own displays.
Kenyon’s scowl soured. “Your recommendation?”
“Keep the Tannenberg and her escorts at Irian for now, Captain-General. If they go in unsupported, we will lose them upon arrival. The pirate point for Irian III is only five hours from orbit, so when the Lyrans commit to a fleet engagement at Connaught we can jump in behind them and pincer them.”
“Agreed. Stand them to and clear for action.” Kenyon turned to the rest of the League Central Coordination and Command staff. “What’s the ETA on the reinforcement of the border around Oliver and the shift of those units from Andurien?”
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AFFS Temporary Base ‘Slayer’, Strawn, Crucis March, Federated Suns
26 January 2798
Paul Davion nodded to his cousin and spoke with anticipation. “Well, it’s time, Tom.”
Leftenant-General Thomas Halder-Davion nodded back. “Just stick close to me and concentrate on your shots. Let me handle the battles while you handle the war, Paul.”
“Father and Grandfather always said the real superpower of rulership was delegation to competent and loyal subordinates who could use their initiative.” Paul agreed as they walked down the hall to the ‘Mech Bay.
The doors hissed open.
The bay beyond was crowded to overflowing with Mechwarriors and Techs in the gray jerseys and light tan jerkins of the Avalon Hussars, the dark green of the Syrtis Fusiliers with the Hasek family’s diamond shaped ‘evil eye’ embroidered on them, and the dark blue with red and white trim of the Davion Brigade of Guards.
Past the open doors stretching as far as the eye could see, row upon row of Union and Leopard-class dropships waited, all a foreground to the towering ovoids of the Overlord-class transports beyond.
A roar of noise greeted him, resolving into a chant that echoed from the gantries and the metal titans surrounding them.
”PENDRAGON! PENDRAGON! PENDRAGON!! PENDRAGON!!”
Paul shot a sidelong glance at Thomas, only to see the broad grin on his field commander’s face.
Paul sighed mentally.
No help there. Well, time to fake it till you make it again, Paul. I wonder how Ilsa deals with this?
He raised his hand to acknowledge the shouts, which redoubled at his gesture.
”PENDRAGON!! PENDRAGON!! PENDRAGON!! PENDRAGON!!”
His men’s cries battered his ears with the noise.
He was jostled like a pinball by the slaps to his shoulders and back as he made his way through the frenzied crowd to the foot of his Battlemech.
He leaped to the broad cloven foot and then pointed upward to the monstrous ninety-ton bulk of his HGN-732b Highlander. Painted in dark blue with the red and white striping of the Davion Brigade of Guards, the Mech’s broad chest now had a new name painted underneath the Sword and Sunburst in blood-red letters as tall as a man’s torso.
‘DRAGONSLAYER’
He turned to the crowd and clenched his fist as he stared out over the sea of faces, then lowered his hand as his eyes stared into their souls.
Using his best command voice, he drew a deep breath and projected his words as the shouts died down to a more reasonable level.
“Fellow Soldiers, I won’t bore you with another briefing or fancy words. You know why we’re here! You know what the Snakes have done! You know your assignments and the plan! Mount up, try to keep up with me, and kick the Snake's asses back to Luthien like you mean it! Dismissed!!”
The shouts redoubled as he headed to the gantry lift where his personal Tech was waiting. He slapped the elderly man on the shoulder as the lift rose and the floor below him dissolved into the controlled chaos of battle preparation. “Jack, how’s she?”
“All ready to stomp some Snakes, My Prince! Full combat load of Artemis LRM and SRMs, and the lasers and M-7 Gauss rifle are green across the boards.”
“Good work. I’ll see you on Markesan then, Jack.”
The lift stopped at the top of the gantry. Paul stepped off it, and made his way to the hatch. A minute later, with a dull thud, the slab of armor plate closed and locked.
Now finally alone, Paul leaned against the cool metal of the hatch for several seconds. He shook nervously, then took a deep breath to steady himself. He spoke into the silence of the cockpit while he stripped off his uniform to pull on his cooling vest. “Ilsa, I wish you were here to fight alongside me. But I must win your love and this war first before I can wed you. If we can make that happen for us and our nations.”
He strapped himself into his command chair, and then slipped on his neurohelmet before starting up his Battlemech.
“Voiceprint Check.”
“Paul George Davion”
“Voiceprint confirmed, enter security passphrase.”
Paul grinned like the boy a third his current age that he had been when he first watched the film he had drawn the phrase from. The grin widened into that of the cartoon fox that was the hero of the pre-spaceflight classic that had stolen his heart at age seven.
“Aha! But remember! Faint Heart never won Fair Lady!”
“Welcome back Paul Davion. Reactor Online, Sensors online, weapons online, all systems nominal. Dragonslayer awaits your command.“
With the rhythmic crash of steel on concrete, the 90 ton assault Mech began to march toward the waiting dropships. As the bulk of the Running Fox loomed over him, First Prince Paul Davion II grinned like the fox that was on the heraldry of his family as his doubts and worries fell away.
To one side, Thomas Halder-Davion’s Victor joined him, to the other, Mechwarrior Smith’s Grasshopper fell into formation. Behind him, a river of steel and myomer began to flow; brave men and women followed where he would lead them.
Operation SWORD had begun.
Author’s Note: And this concludes Book II as Paul and Ilsa lead their troops to commit to their do-or-die gambits against their mutual foes. Next up Kenyon Marik has a very eventful day and we check in on the Inner Sphere’s biggest douchebag (non-Amaris category). Expect some hawt Mech-on-Mech action next.
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