The Best of Enemies (A Battletech AU)

[Yellowhammer]

The Best Of Enemies (A First Succession War Battletech AU) -- Chapter I

“The art of war is of vital importance to the State. It is a matter of life and death, a road either to safety or to ruin. Hence it is a subject of inquiry which can on no account be neglected.” -- Sun Tzu, 孫子兵法 (The Art of War)​

Sian Center for Martial Disciplines, Sian, Capellan Confederation

16 November 2795

“Neurohelmet Pattern Confirmed, enter security passphrase.” The booming synthetic voice of the TDR-5Sb Thunderbolt battlemech filled the cockpit.

A young woman dressed in the jade-green and gray uniform of a cadet took a deep breath and spoke Chinese words written over three thousand years ago during the Warring States: “Zhìgāowúshàng de zhànzhēng shǒuduàn shì zài bù dǎjià de qíngkuàng xià zhēngfú dírén.”

“Passphrase accepted. Shíshī awakens. REACTOR ONLINE, SENSORS ONLINE, WEAPONS ONLINE.”

The MFDs sprang to life.

The pilot took a deep breath and adjusted her SLDF Royal-issue neurohelmet slightly in a nervous gesture.

Her brown eyes flickered over across the readouts for her Ceres Arms Warrior PPC, the Delta Dart LRM-15 mated to a Nirasaki A4 targeting-tracking system, the trio of Diverse Optics Type 18 5cm lasers, the Hovertec Streak SRM-2 rack, and finally the twinned Starflash Plus 3cm pulse lasers for anti-infantry use.

With the readouts all showing that training mode was set and confirming that her weapons were safed, she throttled up and strode out of the Mech Bay. The metal behemoth shook the ground slightly with each step of its sixty-five ton chassis.

The yellow-white sphere of Sian’s rising primary cast her shadow behind her as she turned onto the road heading to the training ground for her cadet unit’s scheduled field exercise.

Then a light flashed in her cockpit and a tone sounded in her ears.

The pilot gave a sigh and flicked the switch to open the communication channel. “Cadet Liao reporting. Service to the State.” Her voice was sharp and confident, revealing nothing of her thoughts.

There was a crackle and then the Tikonov-accent of Major Kornyeva came on the secure comm channel. Her cadet battalion commander’s voice was flat. “Cadet, your presence is required elsewhere. Return to the Mechbay and await transportation.” There was a pause and then a softer, more human tone in the next words. “I’m sorry.”

Grandmother.

The pilot took a deep breath and spoke in a flat tone. “Understood, Major. Orders received, returning to Mechbay. Against fate even the Gods strive in vain.”

-----------------------------------​

The flight to her destination passed in silence.

The armed guards who had picked her up did not speak, which suited her mood.

Dressed in a cadet’s simple jumpsuit thrown on over her cooling vest and shorts, Ilsa Liao wished to be alone with her thoughts.

The shuttle landed at the private pad in the heart of the Celestial Palace.

Ilsa absently caressed the familiar hilt of her dao sword -- a fifteenth birthday gift from Grandmother after she had qualified as a Mechwarrior Cadet, had achieved her brown belt in Chángquán, and had passed her Citizenship examination -- as she waited for the hatch to cycle.

“This way, Lady Liao.” The functionary waiting to guide her, a courtier from Andurien, spoke to her with the subtle signs of worry in his eyes and posture.

Not Cadet. This was… not good.

She continued through the familiar halls where she had grown to adulthood. Her mind raced like a rat in a cage behind her facade of poise and confidence as the destination became apparent and her fear increased.

The doors to the medical wing hissed open and she stepped inside. The courtier spoke as she approached a guarded door. “Your sword, Lady Liao….”

A slashed hand cut him off and dark brown eyes burned as Ilsa Liao turned on her heel. “I bear it to the woman who is the only parent I have known after my father, mother, and uncle died in the Eagle’s talons over Calloway VI! Respect for parents and elders is the essence of goodness!” She snapped out from a face that could have been carved from stone.

A weak voice came from beyond. “Bring my granddaughter to me and then leave us alone.”

On the other side of the door, a dying woman lay in a bed surrounded by the medical machinery and doctors keeping her alive. Monitors hummed and a rhythmic mechanical hissing came from the cardiopulmonary machine that was vainly trying to cleanse her blood from the myeloma that was killing her as her plasma cells unstoppably destroyed her own organs.

Ilsa hurried to her grandmother’s side and knelt.

“Lǎo ye, I am here.” She choked out as her composure cracked.

The doctors and guards moved away to give the precious illusion of privacy to her and her only surviving blood kin. Never true privacy. Not here, not for the Liao.

A weak hand caressed her tear-stained cheek.

Ilsa leaned into the touch.

“Sūnnǚ, I do not have long to live, so you must listen to my final lesson.” Her grandmother’s voice was weak, yes, but also filled with wisdom and authority.

Ilsa shook her head. “You’ll get better, I’m sure….” She whispered while fresh tears fell.

A hacking laugh answered her. “Even the Celestial Wisdom cannot order Yen-Lo-Wang around, child. No, you must engrave on your soul that the power that I hold and you shall inherit comes with honeyed traps. Just because I can order it does not make it so… and the cost of mistakes… my mistakes….”

A rattling cough interrupted her Grandmother. Then, as Ilsa leaned close, her grandmother whispered to her as their eyes met. “I can never forget what I did to Kerensky. How stupid, how insanely stupid I was! I broke a good and honorable man, better than I have ever been… and for what reasons truly? Wounded pride and the lure of the throne on Terra that Amaris left for us to squabble over like mad children. We destroyed in instants what it took our ancestors generations to build! What I did that day -what I continued to do until I came to the truth. Too late!- was worse than any crime, it was a mistake!! Now we have all paid bitterly for it. The cost of my folly continues to build for our people. My orders to strike the Mariks has only turned their hatred toward us into a raging inferno so now the Confederation burns in the fires of war.”

Ilsa looked into her grandmother’s eyes and swallowed as she spoke quietly with fear and pain in her young voice. “And now the Inner Sphere joins us amidst the typhoon of this conflict. We battle the Marik and raid the Davion, the Steiners fight on both fronts, and the Dragon unstoppably marches to the heart of the Federated Suns with blood and fire. I… have read the documents you sent to me about the true casualty estimates for the CCAF. Not one in seven of my classmates will live to see his children grow up at the current rate of losses. What can we do, Grandmother? What… can I do without you to guide me?”

Barbara Liao looked deep into her granddaughter’s eyes. “For me, my time is passing and I shall have to make my reckoning to the Judge of the Dead within the next day, two at the most. I fear it shall not be a pleasant one for me.” Ilsa swallowed and nodded in understanding. ”For you, I have made arrangements for the regency as best I can. Sandol Quinn, Prefect of Tikonov, shall be your Regent. He is a loyal man and a good soldier, but ambitious. He will keep the State safe for you to inherit. When you do,” Barbara’s hand slid from Ilsa’s face, “be strong, but be as the willow to bend with the course of events rather than break. Be brave but not reckless. Be wise with such wisdom has been granted to you and those you trust to advise you. Be compassionate when compassion can be safely given, but also be as hard as your dao’s steel when such is needed to keep the State and the People safe.”

Ilsa nodded, forcing back her flowing tears as best she could. The seventeen year old young woman clasped her grandmother’s hand as the life faded from the twentieth Chancellor of the Capellan Confederation.

Her grandmother gave her a desperate look as she gasped out her final words to the untried young woman who would have to become Celestial Wisdom after her. “Most of all, Ilsa…. Most of all, find a way to make our people safe from the madness that I have helped let loose before it consumes us all….”

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11 September, 2796

Kentares IV, DCMS Occupation Zone

A short Japanese man clad in the uniform of a Draconis Combine Mustered Soldiery officer strode into the command outpost as energy seemed to crackle from his presence.

The assembled generals bowed before Jinjiro Kurita.

They knelt on the soil of a minor farming planet that had been a forgotten and forgettable backwater in the Draconis March of the Federated Suns.

They bowed to the soil that had tasted the lifeblood of this man’s aged father -- the blood of the Dragon.

Minoru Kurita, Coordinator of the Draconis Combine, had been shot by an insurgent on the Ninth of August. The Armed Forces of the Federated Suns had used the confusion caused by Minoru Kurita’s death to escape with the remnants of their troops before the new Coordinator could arrive with the cream of the DCMS, the Steel Dragon itself, at his back.

Mad steel-blue eyes surveyed his gathered samurai.

The Dragon commanded...

“Kill them all!”

...The Kentares Massacre began…

...over nine of every ten inhabitants of the helpless planet of Kentares IV would perish in the next five months…

...and the Inner Sphere would never be the same again.

-----------------------------------​

Author’s Note: This is a Battletech alternate universe fic. To those non-Grognards reading this, in canon Ilsa Liao was 12 years old when her mother died, leaving the CapCon under the regency of the ambitious and Davion-hating Sandol Quinn (the last non-Liao Chancellor) for six years.

Canon-Ilsa therefore reached the age of majority and inherited the rulership of a larger but militarily exhausted realm trapped in a two front war with the Free Worlds League having made serious inroads. Meanwhile, the militarily revitalized post-Kentares Federated Suns were smarting for revenge after the CCAF under Quinn attacked them at their lowest point with a ‘stab in the back’ during the Kentares Massacre.

Here, she is 17 years old with a six month regency before her birthday on 19 April 2796 makes her a legal adult and full Chancellor.

Calloway VI was a canonical Capellan attempted counterattack in March 2789 to hit a major FWLM forward base to slow the League down. Unfortunately, several Capellan officers who had been sickened by Barbara Liao abandoning the Ares Conventions to use unrestricted WMD release on civilian targets in the New Delos Massacre leaked the attack plans to the League. The result was a catastrophe for the CCAF, including the loss of both of Chancellor Barbara Liao’s sons in the League ambush. In this AU, it went as canon, save that Ilsa was 11 when her parents and uncle died at Calloway VI (and her grandmother nearly died) instead of 6, so much more of an impact on her psychology.

 

[Yellowhammer]

The Best Of Enemies (A First Succession War Battletech AU) -- Chapter II

“Hence a commander who advances without any thought of winning personal fame and withdraws in spite of certain punishment, whose only concern is to protect his people and promote the interests of his ruler, is the nation's treasure. Because he fusses over his men as if they were infants, they will accompany him into the deepest valleys; because he fusses over his men as if they were his own beloved sons, they will die by his side.” -- Sun Tzu, 孫子兵法 (The Art of War)​

3 March 2796

Mirach, DCMS Occupation Zone

Commander Ilsa Liao gasped as she leapt Shíshī out of the Dropship nine and a half miles above the surface of Mirach below her and her fellow Mechwarriors.

What she was doing here was a calculated risk in far more ways than one.

Her eyes watched the altimeter tick down rapidly as the planet’s gravity drew her into a deadly embrace. Then with a roar that even at this altitude shook her and the sixty-five ton cutting-edge war machine she was piloting, the Union-class dropship that she had just leapt from fired its fusion drive to slow its descent.

Fifteen thousand meters….

Surrounded by her Battlemech and the radar-reflective chaff that had been fired to hopefully obscure what she and this Battalion of the Red Lancers were doing, Ilsa Liao fell toward Mirach with only her own thoughts and memories to keep her company.

Words spoken in the luxurious opulence of her rooms within the Celestial Palace three short weeks ago tumbled through her brain as she fell through the clouds.

“And if you die, Lady Liao? What then?” She could remember the florid Slavic face of Sandol Quinn, his graying goatee bristling as he stared into her determined eyes.

A deep breath both in memory and reality as she remembered making her argument to her Regent.

”Then you and the other Prefects join in wisdom to select the next Chancellor from among your ranks, my Regent. I know the cost of war, how could I not?” Her trembling hand pointed at the funeral tablet with the characters that she had written with her childish hand and watered with her tears of grief and loss for her father Balthazar Liao, her mother Yuying Mei-Liao, and her uncle Barnabas Liao. “I have sacrificed for the Confederation almost as much as you or the people of your beloved Tikonov have. How can I look my soldiers in the eye to send them needfully to their deaths in my name if I am unwilling to take the same risks when my responsibilities allow for me to? What is needed in these dark and terrible days is a Chancellor that is both ruler and warrior, a Liao who shares her peoples’ burdens, who sees with her own eyes what they must endure, and who sacrifices of herself as they do, to lead them as first among equals.”

Her Regent looked into her eyes for long moments and nodded, finally. “Leading the Red Lancers to strike the Combine supply depots on Mirach will send a message to the Kurita that the Confederation is not as weak as the Davion dogs. I just wish that you would approve my plans to reclaim the Chesterton worlds once and for all.”

Her head shook. “You and Count Dexter Heargreaves of Chesterton-in-Exile both, Sandol. No, the time is not right. We must go forth with my mother’s plan for counterattacks on the flanks of the advances the League has made toward Sarna and to isolate Andurien for recapture.” She pointed at the holographic map showing the Capellan Confederation in jade green with the purple of the ‘Free Worlds League’ advances like a livid bruise cutting in through the Sarna and Andurien Commonalities. “By all means, we should do reconnaissance raids on the Suns to ensure that the Davions are not massing to strike upon our other flank, but no more, and at a low level. We need the troops that would be stationed there to fight off the League.”

She touched the hologram’s control panel and the display shifted. Now it showed the massive crimson bite taken out of the Federated Suns as she pointed to the flashing crimson planets of Odell and Delevan one jump from their capital of New Avalon itself. “Assuming that the Maskirovka has not gone blind when they report on our old foe, the Suns need every man and ‘Mech as badly as we do.”

-----------------------------------​

The altimeter buzzed to interrupt her recollection.

She looked at the display reading eight hundred meters and stomped her feet to the floor where they rested on the control pedals.

For an instant, a terrifying heart-stopping instant, nothing happened.

Then her ‘Mech shook like a leaf in a hurricane when the external drop pack roared to life.

Flames fully double the height of her Thunderbolt began to slow her plummet into a hopefully controlled landing.

She began to guide her Mech with delicate movements of the controls of the jump pack toward the coded radio beacon of her Company commander.

She flicked on her radio from standby as the plummeting numbers of the altimeter slowed down.

The time for introspection was over.

The time for war was now.

-----------------------------------​

With a crash that rattled her bones her Thunderbolt hit the earth of Mirach.

She left meter deep divots in some farmer’s field as she touched down.

The crops had been set afire and the soil baked hard by the flames of her drop pack.

She slapped the release switch for the drop pack and began to run for the assembly point.

“Niúwěidāo Lance, Form on Niúwěidāo One!”

A green-camouflaged Catapult landed next to her on its own internal jets.

It then sprinted to cover her flank, the twin box-like ‘arms’ of its Holly LRM launchers waggling almost comically as the armored covers opened and locked to reveal the rows of deadly missiles.

”Niúwěidāo Four down, Commander!”

Ilsa spared a brief prayer of thanks to whoever was listening to her. Her older cousin Mei Ying had made it down alive.

Unlike the shattered and scattered remains of a Warhammer whose jump pack had either malfunctioned or been damaged by enemy fire.

-----------------------------------​

“Qiāng One to all Qiāng Units! Advance as planned to contact!”

Ilsa glanced at the icons of the Archer, Catapult, and Orion making up the rest of her Fire Support Lance.

She waved her arm to direct them forward to provide overwatch for the heavier units advancing into Cingulum City to hit the warehouses at the military base there.

-----------------------------------​

Suddenly, the air alert tone screamed from her advanced electronics as she reached the suburban park that was her destination.

“Incoming! Cover!” She yelled over the lance frequency as she lumbered to her right.

Her thumb flipped her weapons to anti-air mode.

Moments later, her arms and torso elevated as her Mech twisted automatically toward the threat vector.

Split seconds later the first pair of ASFs screamed in at low altitude on rockets of nuclear fire.

Lances of coherent light slashed into her while clouds of LRMs slammed into her -- and her lance along with the surrounding homes and businesses.

She did not notice the moment when her own LRMs and PPC returned fire as the computer got a lock on one of the enemies.

Only the wave of heat in the cockpit when her weapons fired registered.

Only later when she reviewed the BattleROMs would she realize that her snapshot had torn the wing off one of the ex-Star League Defense Force Zeros to cause it to spiral out of control to slam into the heart of the city.

Worse was to follow.

Much worse.

In the wake of the ASF pass came a steel rain of incendiary and anti-armor cluster bombs dropped by them as they overflew the Capellan advance.

Shíshī shook and shuddered as the bomblets slammed into her, shaving tons of armor off his thick hide.

A wave of heat from the Yama Kings’ hellish domain hit Ilsa when the world around her exploded into flames from the Inferno bombs that had turned this peaceful city into a hellscape in the blink of an eye.

Acting on trained reflex, Ilsa slammed the reactor overheat shutdown override and flipped the view mode to magscan.
She felt the evidence of her terror trickle down her legs under her cooling shorts.

“N-Niúwěidāo Lance report in!” She croaked out while her wide eyes sought any sign of the enemy coming to kill her.

“Two is condition yellow!”

“Three green.”

“Four is yellow.”

At the calm words from her subordinates, something fundamental inside Ilsa Liao relaxed slightly.

She was still more terrified than she ever had been in her life, but she had her people to live for now.

To fight for.

To -- if her service to the State and her People demanded it of her -- die for.

“Eyes sharp, they know we’re here.”

-----------------------------------​

A neon-blue bolt of man-made lightning suddenly came from somewhere to her right.

It slammed into Ying’s Catapult, causing her cousin’s Mech to stagger as armor dripped from its leg.

Hot on the heels of the shot came two flights of LRMs that further cratered armor on Ying’s right side.

Ilsa gripped her weapons triggers tighter as she scanned the burning city with eyes and sensors.

Nothing….

Nothing….

THERE!

Thought and action were as one as she dropped her crosshairs onto a flicker of movement among the flames.

Her Thunderbolt shook once more as her missiles chased her own PPC bolt toward her foe.

A fresh wave of heat filled the cockpit while the advanced cooling system fought against the burning pools of inferno gel around her, the flames from the city’s agonies, and the discharge of her own weapons.

But her agonies were as nothing to the Mongoose scout Mech that she had targeted.

The Mech, painted in the urban camouflage that the 29th Dieron Regulars favored, staggered when her PPC shot flayed the armor off its side torso.

The advanced guidance packages on Ilsa’s missile spread homed in on her target to hammer the smaller ‘Mech mercilessly thanks to the state-of-the-art bleeding-edge Terran Hegemony fire control computers in the Liao family’s Mech.

Worst of all for the Drac, shrapnel from one of Ilsa’s missile warheads hitting the compromised torso armor cut the main power cables to the advanced ECM and sensor suite for the scout mech.

Suddenly, it became visible to the heavier machines that it had been spotting for the rest of its lance to snipe at and harass.

As the mangled Mech staggered for cover at its best speed, the missile lock-on warning screamed once more that steel rain was coming for it….

-----------------------------------​

Sweat poured down Ilsa’s face as she reached her next firing position.

She spun on her heel to cover the escape route for the fighting retreat of the Red Lancers.

Their HALO drop had worked perfectly to keep the garrison guessing as to their location and intentions, allowing the Lancers to overrun the warehouse area’s guards while the Dropships came around to land at the farm that had been picked for their dust-off location.

Behind the Lancers’ Mechs, the flames were spreading uncontrollably through the kilotons of DCMS military supplies that had been stored there.

A fresh explosion shook the city as another mushroom cloud of fire went up from the munitions stockpiles.

While individually the samurai of the DCMS were no match for the CCAF’s finest, unfortunately there were many more of them than there were of the Red Lancers.

The numerical losses taken fighting the FWLM, especially from the disaster at Calloway VI, had barely been made good with transfers from other shattered and less prestigious regiments and a leavening of the best cadets in the Confederation.

“Niúwěidāo Lance in position on line Méihuā!” Ilsa snapped out on the command channel.
She took deep breaths while she scanned the still burning city for signs of the enemy that had to be hot on their heels.

”Liǔyèdāo Two. Fire support urgently requested at coordinates Cùlì Eight!”

Ilsa pivoted her ‘Mech, punched in the code group into her tactical computer, and opened a tacticom link to her lance.

“Fire support call, prepare Rain and Thunder for the Dragon!”

Her missile rack elevated while the high-speed ammunition hoist whined when it loaded fresh missiles from the second bin. A light burned a jade green on her console, followed by three more as her lance reported readiness.

“Fire!” Smoke filled the air as her Lance sent a full hundred Thunder and Swarm LRMs downrange. Then a second volley followed on the heels of the first.

“Two shots out, Liǔyèdāo Two! Yǔ hé léi shēng!” Ilsa said as she resumed the scan of the surroundings.

Fresh smoke billowed from the direction of her fellow Capellan’s overwatch position as her indirect fire arrived.

-----------------------------------​

Buildings were still burning here and there, and the city was a wreck.

Suddenly motion amid the wreckage caught her eyes.

A young girl, clearly a toddler, was crying and hugging a soot and dirt-covered stuffed rabbit to her chest as she crawled out from underneath the corpse of a woman.

A spreading red pool on the shattered and torn concrete told the tale of what had happened to the girl’s mother.

“Contact Left!”

Ilsa snapped around her head at the shout as a Hunchback appeared around the corner of the next junction south.

The massive Assault Autocannon that gave the deadly urban fighter its name elevated and roared.

Behind it, a second Hunchback turned the corner as two more humanoid Mechs leapt on pillars of fire to the buildings on either side.

Ying’s Catapult collapsed with a crash as the stream of high-velocity slugs scythed her Mech’s legs out from under her.

Something inside Ilsa froze at the sight.

A stranger used her ice-cold voice in words of Command that came from her heart and her soul.

“Ying, get out, grab that little girl near the wrecked van! Popov, pick Ying and that girl up, then cover our rears! Jahanara, back me up!”

She charged down the street toward the DCMS urban assault lance as her focus narrowed to her foe and those she stood in defense of.

Her crosshairs dropped on the first Hunchback and her fingers released all her triggers at once.

The smaller ‘Mech staggered as man-made lightning and lines of green laser light melted tons of armor off its barrel chest, stripping it naked. Then her wave of missiles hammered it as LRMs and SRMs pounded it.

Heat filled her cockpit, but was but an ice bath to the righteous fury and rage consuming her while channeled to her will.

The Chancellor serves the State and her People!

With a cataclysmic detonation, the Autocannon ammunition touched off, and the ‘Mech disintegrated.

Autocannon shells hammered into Shíshī and lasers lashed her in a deadly web.

Ilsa didn’t care.

Still, in that frozen moment of clarity and understanding, she charged through the explosion at the second Hunchback while shrapnel rattled her cockpit like a tin can in a hailstorm.

Moving with the deadly grace of a woman trained by the best sifu that her grandmother could find to teach her the martial art of Chángquán, she shoulder checked the second Hunchback, spinning it half around as armor plate was ground to dust.

As if present at her side, Sifu Li whispered in her ear as she leaned back to roll with her foe’s counterpunch and converted the spin of her shoulder check into a foot sweep.

“In battle, there are not more than two methods of attack--the direct and the indirect; yet these two in combination give rise to an endless series of maneuvers.”

The Autocannon roared as the second Hunchback toppled when she kicked its ankles out from under it, yet she was not where her enemy expected her to be.

“The direct and the indirect lead on to each other in turn. It is like moving in a circle--you never come to an end. Who can exhaust the possibilities of their combination?”

More missiles and shells slammed into her as a DCMS Shadow Hawk landed on jets of flame to draw a bead on her rear armor.

“Thus one who is skillful at keeping the enemy on the move maintains deceitful appearances, according to which the enemy will act. He sacrifices something, that the enemy may snatch at it."

Ilsa spun on her heel once more to spoil the back shot as she pivoted to her right.

More explosions covered Shíshī, stripping the last of the armor from her right torso.

Ilsa’s left hand dropped to point her Starflash Plus pulse lasers square at the damaged cockpit of the prone and helpless Hunchback while her right arm rose to point her PPC at the head of the Shadow Hawk.

She paused for a heartbeat as the weapons crosshairs for her torso mounted missiles and lasers blinked with a good lock.

“Energy may be likened to the bending of a crossbow; decision, to the releasing of a trigger."

Her fingers released the triggers once more so Shíshī could lay low the enemies of the Capellan Confederation.

 

[Yellowhammer]

The Best Of Enemies (A First Succession War Battletech AU) -- Chapter III

“The first, the supreme, the most far-reaching act of judgment that the statesman and commander have to make is to establish ... the kind of war on which they are embarking.” -- Carl von Clausewitz, Vom Kriege (On War)​

Forbidden City, Sian, Capellan Confederation

16 November 2796

Vomit stained the priceless lacquered teakwood of the table and spattered the holographic projector atop it.

The Chancellor of the Capellan Confederation stared with wide eyes in her pale face at the equally ghost-like faces of her advisors as the transmission ended.

Prefect Quinn was shaking his head with disbelief and disgust writ large on his face.

The Maskirovka Director, Mandrinn Jiàn, was stone faced but Ilsa could read the subtle signs of shock in his face.

Ilsa glanced over at her friend and cousin Wei Ying. The young woman was weeping uncontrollably.

Ilsa wiped her mouth clean, not caring how she soiled her silken robes in this moment. She took several deep breaths, trying desperately to master herself to prevent another outbreak of vomiting. Her voice was unsteady as she finally spoke. “This… footage… is confirmed then?”

Jiàn nodded shakily. “Facial analysis gives a 97% confidence identification that the officer… supervising those events is Coordinator Jinjiro Kurita. It also corresponds with the recent reports that our agents in the DCMS have filed. It also matches the psychological profile we have developed on Jinjiro Kurita’s… instability.”

Ilsa slammed her palm down in the puddle of her vomit on the table. Fury and horror filled her eyes as she stabbed her finger through the frozen hologram of the Kentares Children’s Hospital to point at the man who had ordered everyone inside to be put to the sword and for their heads to be stacked before him.

Some of the heads were very small….

“Instability!? I say this is insanity!!” Ilsa shouted in a shrill screech as her tear-filled burning eyes raked the room. “Kenyon Marik is a megalomaniac -- calling himself ‘The Eagle’ indeed! -- but Jinjiro Kurita is as much of a monster as his Rìběn gǒu ancestors were at Nanjing!! As much a monster as Amaris the Usurper was!!!” Her tone challenged those present to try to persuade her differently.

None spoke as her gaze flickered from face to face.

Finally Ying stirred. “Celestial Wisdom -- Ilsa -- what do we do?”

Ilsa glanced at Quinn with a question. Her general shook his head. “We don’t have any forces available, not with the bulk of our strength tied down fighting the League around Andurien and on Chamdai, Tsinghao, and Second Chance. We also must protect Tikonov if the DCMS makes a move in our direction. Once the forces on Kentares IV… finish… then the DCMS will have a powerful force including three of their Swords of Light within striking range of our borders there. Although it is more likely that they will take New Avalon once they iron out their supply difficulties and build up for the next push.”

Ilsa nodded tiredly. “Bring up the strategic map, please, Ying.” Once more the view shifted to the familiar green of the Confederation hemmed in by Marik purple, Kurita scarlet, and Davion gold on the star map. Ilsa sank into her chair, staring at the map as her thoughts chased each other around and around like dogs after their own tails.

Davion gold….

Ilsa’s head raised. “Quinn, you agree that as much of a threat the Federated Suns have been to us for centuries, they are not total barbarians even at their worst? Not like… that!” She waved a hand at the vomit-stained projector.

Quinn bit his lip and finally sighed with a sour look on his face. “No, not like that, Celestial Wisdom. If John Davion had given those orders his troops would have mutinied. My men would have mutinied if I commanded that against sick children and they would be right to do so!”

“Indeed.” Ilsa agreed, rubbing her temples. “I have two decisions that I must make. First, my grandmother gave the orders that the Ares Convention restricting nuclear, biological, and chemical weapons along with the use of orbital bombardment was to be suspended before she sent off Colonel Devlin to raze New Delos at the start of this war. That was… not well thought out.” She looked at her chief general and spymaster. “Effective immediately, I am reinstating the Ares Conventions among the Capellan Confederation Armed Forces. No first use of WMD, and any second strikes will only be allowed by the most sober and reliable officers who understand such is an absolute last resort in response to prior illegal use by our foes. Disobedience will result in an immediate capital court-martial.”

The two men shared a look. “But the deterrent effect---” Quinn began.

Ilsa shook her head. “Is useless. Atrocity has been piled upon atrocity in this war. Tell me truthfully, did what the League calls the ‘New Delos Massacre’ now break their morale or harden their resolve?”

Jiàn sighed. “Strengthened their desire to fight. Revenging New Delos is a core precept of their indoctrination of new soldiers now along with their domestic propaganda as Kenyon Marik consolidates all power under his hand.”

Ilsa gave a small tired grin. “Exactly! So if that for the League, how much more so for the Suns when they see what we have seen? We have fought them enough over the centuries to teach them one of the lessons of Master Sun. ‘When in death ground, fight!’ The Davions find themselves in death ground now against the Kuritas. With that understanding in mind, I see a possible way for the Confederation to profit from the Suns’ new understanding of where they stand….”

-----------------------------------​

Ipava, New Avalon Administrative Area, Coreward Combat Theater, Crucis March, Federated Suns.

2 December 2796

“Urgent dispatches for the First Prince!” The call from the command bunker entrance cut through the hubbub of the staff officers packing the facility.

Leftenant General King waved a pair of sealed message forms at the white haired man at the head of the table in a Field Marshal’s uniform. Weary blue eyes in a lined face looked at the officer. “Out with it.” First Prince John Davion sighed as his shoulders slumped.

The first form passed hands. “It’s from Delevan.”

A groan rippled around the table.

The officers’ faces all said the same thing: Two weeks ago, the 33rd Avalon Hussars, 4th Deneb Light Cavalry, and 3rd Dragonlords had launched an all-out suicidal attack without orders straight at the tip of the Combine spear threatening New Avalon.

The seal broke and paper rustled.

Blue eyes widened in shock. “The Hussars and DLC report that two Drac Narukami-class destroyers were overwhelmed and killed by their airwing at the Zenith jump point thanks to a series of ramming attacks that gutted their engineering spaces. They have made planetfall and have the Drac forces on the ropes!” John Davion wept as he leaned over the map table as an angry scarlet world on the display began to flash orange showing it was disputed. “Thank God for loose cannons! Archie, get the Ninth Avalon Hussars and Fourth Davion Guards moving ASAP to escort a supply convoy to finish the job and push them off our soil!”

The despair lifted and was replaced by energy.

John broke the green dao and triangle seal of the second communication and began to read. He rubbed his eyes, reread it and then lifted his head. “Everyone, I have a communique from the Cappies here.”

“Fucking Crappies….” came an anonymous mutter in a New Syrtis accent.

“Chancellor Liao says to me and I quote:”

‘First Prince Davion, I speak to you today not as Chancellor of the Capellan Confederation, not even as a Capellan citizen, but as a fellow civilized human being.

Our nations currently have our massive differences and our violent histories; I will not insult your intelligence by denying that. We have disagreed on much of importance; many in your realm or mine would say that we disagree in all things. But there is one thing any civilized person can agree upon. What has happened and continues to happen on Kentares is evil, and an unforgivable crime against humanity.

The monster who ordered it, those who obey him, and those in the Combine who are too cowed to speak against it even in their heart are the enemies of any civilized person. They are barbarians, and it is the duty of all civilized men and women to set aside their differences to stand against such evil.

To that end, I have ordered my soldiers to strictly obey the Ares Conventions. I swear never to perform a first strike with strategic weapons as long as I hold the Celestial Throne. This mad war threatens to consume us all and leave the survivors naught but ash and bone if we do not take a step back from the abyss.

Furthermore, I have also sent out ironclad orders to immediately halt any and all incursions and offensive actions in currently held Federated Suns space; if any of my officers or men disobey them, they are pirates and outlaws and shall be immediately delivered to your justice as you require it.

I shall maintain the right to strike the Combine troops occupying planets formerly yours under the Star League when such is required to keep my people and my realm safe.

Finally, I am ordering the CCAF garrisons fronting you in the Saint Ives, Sian, Sarna, and Capella Commonalities to be reduced to the bare minimum needed to protect my vital industries on planets proximate to your borders there. Sadly, Tikonov is threatened by the barbarians you fight now, so I cannot reduce garrisons there to a level that can free up your troops holding Chesterton.

All I shall ask as my price for this assistance to you is that you and yours bring the monster that calls itself Jinjiro Kurita and its minions to justice for his crimes against our common humanity.

With prayers for your victory over the foes of civilization and with sorrow for Kentares IV,

Ilsa Liao, Duchess of Sian, Chancellor of the Capellan Confederation’​

The bunker was dead silent.

John Davion looked around and then took a deep breath. “Countess Cunningham! Get me the most current brief on the CCAF’s dispositions on our border! If it’s true that she’s giving us breathing room rather than taking advantage of our situation….”

His eyes lowered to the map table where an enterprising staff officer had pulled up the list of available Capellan March garrisons and he gave a relieved smile.

-----------------------------------​

New Avalon Military Academy, Avalon City, New Avalon, Crucis March, Federated Suns

6 December 2796

“Senior Cadet-Leftenant Davion, report to the Commandant’s office immediately!”

The younger of the two dark-haired teenagers jogging across campus to their next classes elbowed his older brother in the ribs at the announcement from the loudspeakers. “Busted, big bro!”

Paul Davion rubbed his side and gave his kid brother an annoyed look as they changed direction to jog toward the administration offices. “Peter! Unlike you, I have a perfect record here!”

Peter smirked. “Yeah, because they don’t know how you stay up after lights-out reading your Clausewitz, Napoleon, Guderian, Rommel, Sun Tzu, Kerensky, and Thucydides under the covers with a flashlight in bed! Or the extra access you scrounged up to use the battle computers to run sims!”

Paul gave Peter a flat stare. “How’d you know?”

“I know you, Bro.” Peter replied and shrugged. “You’re fascinated by warfare and rulership.”

Paul paused, then sighed. “A bit, I guess. But the big thing is that I have to prepare to be First Prince once Grandpa retires like he’s grumbled about wanting to do and then Dad leaves it to me. It’s the biggest exam of my life and if I blow it… well you saw what happened when Grandpa picked the wrong enemy to prepare against.”

Peter sobered and muttered with a scowl. “Yeah. I saw the video. Fucking Snakes!”

“Fucking Snakes all right!” Paul agreed with bone-deep hatred in his voice. “I can’t wait to get into the fight against them. Grandpa said that if I keep my grades up, I’ll get into the Guards as a Leftenant.”

“My big bro the bookworm.” Peter said as they reached the administration building. “Listen, if you need a fast escape from Stumpy’s office, give me the high sign and I’ll pull the fire alarm.”

Paul just shook his head as he marched up the stairs. He paused to clear the security checkpoint, and then strode down the hall to his destination.

He rapped his knuckles on the door and barked out in his best command voice. “Senior Cadet-Leftenant Davion reporting as ordered!”

“Enter!”

He stepped inside, snapped to attention, and rendered a parade ground salute to the middle aged officer waiting for him. Leftenant-General Markham returned the salute with his one good arm. The Commandant then nodded to the Major standing next to the school chaplain.

Paul’s eyes widened at the sight of his older cousin Major Thomas Halder-Davion in his Davion Brigade of Guards field uniform. Thomas whispered, “I’m sorry to have to be the one, my Prince.”

The words hit Paul like an autocannon salvo. He swayed and nearly fell. “H-how?” He gulped and gave his cousin a disbelieving look. “Dad?”

Thomas shook his head. “It was an assassin with a laser pistol. He infiltrated the forward HQ on Ipava and killed your father and grandfather while they were up late working on some troop movements.”

He then hurried over to hug the crying young man. Markham stood with a hiss of pain and placed his hand on Paul’s heaving shoulder while the chaplain prayed for healing for the newly-orphaned young man.

Paul looked up and shook his head. “No… not... it can’t be….” He choked out desperately while tears trickled down his pale cheeks.

Thomas sighed deeply. “But it is, Paul. I swore my loyalty to your grandfather when I became an officer, but now I am and shall be your man unto death and damnation, But you must now lead us as the senior Davion of the blood.”

Paul closed his eyes and his shoulders slumped. He swallowed several times, and opened them as he whispered.
“Dad... Grandpa. I’ll make you proud of me, I promise.”

Then Paul’s face firmed up and his spine straightened in his cadet uniform. “What do I need to do Tom?” He said with determined courage despite the tears still trickling from his eyes.

The chaplain picked up an AFFS-issue Bible from the commandant’s desk and extended it. “Place your left hand on the Bible and raise your right hand. General Markham, and Major Halder-Davion will witness the oath of office.”

“I, Paul George Davion, eldest son of Joshua Galahad Davion, and senior grandson of First Prince John Davion do solemnly swear to defend to the death the Peoples and Liberties of the Federated Suns. I swear to cause Law and Justice in Mercy to be executed in all my judgements. All these things that I have before promised I swear that I shall keep as I enter the office of the First Prince of the Federated Suns. So help me God!”

----------------------------------- ​

Author’s Note: For the non-grognards among us, there is a second change in the timeline here that is partially caused by the Ilsa-butterfly.

IOTL, Paul Davion took the throne on December 6th 2797 after the death of his father and grandfather as seen here. Here in this AU, it happens exactly a year earlier during the news of the Massacre, resulting in Paul Davion II taking the throne at eighteen instead of nineteen.

Also, I aged up Peter Davion (the future OTL Prime Marshal of the AFFS for his older brother Paul II and then nephew Michael Davion) slightly, enough to get him into NAMA as a first year cadet underage. The man had an incredible career later as the Yvonne Davion/Ardan Sortek to his brother’s Hanse Davion (or if you prefer, he was Belisarius to Paul’s Justinian the Great) so this is justified by his canonical later history as one of the greatest non-First Prince Davion generals.

 

[Yellowhammer]

The Best Of Enemies (A First Succession War Battletech AU) -- Chapter IV

“If the mind is to emerge unscathed from this relentless struggle with the unforeseen, two qualities are indispensable: first, an intellect that, even in the darkest hour, retains some glimmerings of the inner light which leads to truth; and second, the courage to follow this faint light wherever it may lead.” -- Carl von Clausewitz, Vom Kriege (On War)​

House of Scions, Forbidden City, Sian, Capellan Confederation

13 December 2796

Ilsa Liao nodded to the Chairman of the Capellan State Bank next to her as she stood before the gathered nobility of the Capellan Confederation. Her ornate robes of office shimmered with intricate silk embroidery while jewels glittered from her ears, hands, and neck like an empress of old. She hoped that she would portray the image of control, wealth, and strength mixed with compassion.

“As you know, the war that we have found ourselves in has been a drain on our economy. Our soldiers sacrifice themselves daily on the battlefields to defend the realm against foreign aggression, especially that of the so-called ‘Free Worlds League’. Our brave men and women need the State’s tax revenues to pay for their food and the weapons of war, to pay them so they can provide for their families as they defend them. Furthermore, the State owes the parents, spouses, and children of the fallen a debt that the Yuan of the Bereaved Parent can ameliorate but cannot truly repay, as I well know as a war orphan.”

A rising hubbub greeted her words and she raised a hand while the cameras zoomed in on her as planned.

“However, I do see the wisdom in letting the Scions take primary responsibility for setting tax rates in their home domains rather than the Prefects that they elect to manage our nation. Even the Chancellor cannot have her eyes everywhere to make the correct decisions to plan a harmonious advancement of the state.”

A wave of shocked and scandalized laughter greeted her words and Ilsa smiled.

“My beloved grandmother ordered me to listen to the wisdom of others in her final words, and it is the duty of a grandchild to obey her elders’ wisdom. To that end, I shall support your efforts to change the laws to make the necessary adjustments to the system of taxation for your home Prefectures and planets. Use your local knowledge so that the Confederation’s needs for men, mechs, and munitions in the budget for our survival, the resources needed for wise governance, and the necessary outlays for reconstruction of our damaged planets and industries can be met. Once the Eagle is thrown back from our planets, we will be safe to rebuild what has been torn down.”

As Ilsa left the floor an aide approached her. “Celestial Wisdom, the Director of the Maskirovka has news. He says that the matter is urgent.”

Ilsa sighed and then looked to the Chairman. “I must tend to this new crisis. Please extend my regrets and tender invitations for a working dinner to the Scions should they wish to send suitable delegations.”

“As you wish, Celestial Wisdom.” The bureaucrat bowed.

Ilsa looked at her aide. “Lead on, then.”

She was led to a secure operations chamber in the basement of an anonymous block of office buildings in the Forbidden City. Her court robes and jewelry with the symbols of the Confederation on them made her as out of place among the black-clad agents there as a peacock in a flock of ravens.

“Director Jiàn,” Ilsa nodded to her spymaster, “What new crisis do you have for me?”

“We have confirmed reports from the Suns, Celestial Wisdom. First Prince John Davion and his heir have been assassinated.” Ilsa sucked in her breath.

She took a deep breath to steady herself and then spoke slowly with dread in her voice. “Who then leads the Federated Suns?”

“The grandson of John Davion, a cadet named Paul Davion, is the new First Prince. Efforts are underway to gain knowledge of him and what this shall mean to the course of events.” A monitor lit up with the photograph of a dark haired European man, approximately Ilsa’s generation by her reckoning, wearing an AFFS military cadet’s uniform.

Ilsa rubbed her face with one hand as she sat down heavily in the nearest chair, smearing the makeup that she had worn for the holocameras recording her speech. “Gods of the Underworld, the timing…! I was hoping for a response to my offer of a cease-fire! Not this!!” She looked up and met Jiàn’s eyes after her outburst. “Tell me truly, was this us?”

Jiàn shook his head. “As per your instructions from last month, we have ceased our efforts at subversion and sabotage in the Suns to instead focus on covert information-gathering and intelligence. Their Department of Military Intelligence is incompetent enough to make anyone but us as a possibility for the hit, although the Kurita’s Internal Security Force and Order of the Five Pillars are the obvious suspects with the most to gain by elevating an untrained and untested boy as First Prince. I have already ordered an internal audit and investigation to ensure that your orders were carried out promptly and properly.”

Ilsa nodded along, biting her lip as she thought. “If the internal investigation turns up anything, notify me immediately and take the responsible parties into custody alive! But if we are innocent as we should be….” She trailed off and gave a small sly grin. “If you know of any individuals that you suspect may be of… mixed loyalties… ensure they know of our soul-searching self-examination and inquiries into who the guilty party might be! Then have a copy of the final report proving our innocence pass before their gaze so they can tell their masters. Subtly though, no need to trumpet that we are letting them know. This way, their reports to New Avalon will allow you to then use them unknowingly to pass what we want the Davions to know. All we lose is a leaked report that also will benefit us.”

Jiàn barked a knowing laugh for the precocious teenager who was trying to teach him how to suck eggs. “Truly the Maskirovka lost a great agent when your life took a different course, Celestial Wisdom! As for our activities in the Suns?”

Ilsa sighed. “Wait and watch. Get me the data on Paul Davion, but you have already ordered that. Truly, capable subordinates are a pearl of great value to a ruler!”

Her eyes returned to the photograph of the new First Prince in his cadet uniform. She allowed herself a moment to drown in her pain-filled memories while she compared the man in the picture to herself.

‘I wonder who had the more cruel fate? You to lose your father and grandfather in an unexpected instant as the burden of rule landed on your shoulders unaware or I to witness Lǎo ye slowly and painfully withering before my eyes as I dreaded the moment when the mantle would pass from her to me?’

-----------------------------​

Finally, far closer to midnight than sunset, Ilsa reached her private rooms as the latest endless day came to an end. She blearily stared at the sword rack containing her dao while the servants helped her out of the crushing weight of her robes and jewelry.

“Leave me, please.” She croaked through her fatigue to her bath attendants.

Thankfully, she was obeyed, save for the ever-present surveillance on her by the guards.

This illusion of privacy, never the reality, is one of the prices I must pay as my service to the State.

She pulled on a plain cotton jacket and trousers, put her long hair up in a ponytail, and finished getting dressed with her belt of brown silk. She tied her brown belt with the knot that she had learned in one of her first Chángquán lessons and then bowed to the invisible presence of her sifu.

Feeling more centered and in control now, Ilsa took her dao in hand from the rack. She assumed a mǎbù horse stance in the center of the open space with her sword over her head in one hand. She closed her eyes and regulated her breathing, feeling the solidity of her center once more. At an unseen command from her invisible sifu, she began a slow set of katas.

Parry a thrust, lock the opponent’s blade leading into a side throw….

Behind her closed eyes, the images of the foes whom she was fighting against began to resolve themselves.

Kenyon Marik’s megalomania that was shown by that gaudy uniform, Jinjiro Kurita’s madness and bloodlust, Sandol Quinn’s ambition to be the general who reclaimed Chesterton….

Her movements sped up and became more fluid as she continued her lonely battle against the foes in her mind.

Téng Kōng Bǎi Lián standing lotus kick, spin into Pū Bù stance, follow up with a shift into the Èr Lù Máifú Second Way of Ambush hand and foot strike sequence.

Now she could see the people behind her whom she was defending, who counted on her, who relied on her to stand between them and her -- the Confederation’s -- foes.

Her cousin Mei Ying and the young girl, now named Mei Huiqing, that she had adopted once back on Sian after saving her on Mirach, her father, mother and uncle as they observed her from the Afterlife, her fellow cadets and students, all those whom she worked with to guide in harmony…. Her grandmother….

With that thought her eyes opened as she ended her evening meditation. She was looking straight at the memorial tablet in her room inscribed with the characters that her younger self, suddenly an orphan, had written on a sheet of rice paper stained by her tears. Characters that an Artisan had transcribed with his chisel into this book-sized slab of ‘mutton fat’ white jade and then filled with gold to honor those who would never return to their grieving daughter.

Her eyes filled with tears as a fresh wave of emotion surged through her breast from her wounded heart, just as the incense from the quartet of sticks burning before the memorial tablet endlessly rose to honor her dead family.

Uncle Barnabas….

Mother….

Father….

Grandmother….

Memory turned to understanding and understanding turned to action.

Ilsa called for her attendants.

-----------------------------------​

Strategy Room, The Fox’s Den, New Avalon, Crucis March, Federated Suns

17 December 2796

Paul Davion, First Prince of the Federated Suns, frowned as he looked at the assembled High Command in the underground bunker that was the nerve center of the AFFS.

Fresh news had come in from Kentares thanks to ComStar’s Precentor Kentares leaking all the data that he had received. The pace of the butchery had accelerated, and the AFFS was still too weak to do anything about it.

At least the distraction of the DCMS was giving the Suns a chance to catch their breath. Better, the spontaneous hatred and revenge fueled counterattacks had an effect. Delevan had been liberated and the AFFS victors were digging in to get resupplied and reinforced so they could hold it and perhaps strike further into the occupied zone.

“Right! What next, Ladies and Gentlemen?” He asked, remembering the first lesson he had learned while commanding his platoon of cadets.

Never let them see you sweat, and fake it till you make it.

Of course, the problems he had to unfuck now were so much bigger than dealing with Cadet Simmons’ latest serial fuckup. The scale of the stakes involved gave him the screaming willies whenever he let himself think about the consequences of getting it wrong.

Thankfully the palace physician was willing to prescribe him AFFS-issue sleeping aid tablets on the sly so he could actually get to sleep some nights.

“Some surprising news, Sir. The recruiting monthly numbers are in for the AFFS and they are… well outside our projections.”

Paul groaned inwardly and restrained his urge to rub his temples or start pulling his buzz-cut hair out by the roots. Remember, fake it till you make it and never let them see you sweat. He reminded himself it was far too late to grow a beard to run down to the recruiter himself with a fake ID to sign up for the Jump Infantry spearhead ‘One And Done’ units. Besides, Davions didn’t run no matter what. Dammit.

He felt everyone looking at him again, took a deep breath to control himself and then placed Cadet Simmons’ dopey look over the Field Marshal heading the Department of Military Education so he could use his best ‘Father of his Men Voice of Authority’ tone while wondering what kind of a fire he would have to scramble to piss on. “How bad is it now, Marshal de Bocarme?”

“We’re actually ahead of projections and needs, Sir. By... 857%”

You could have heard a pin drop as Paul boggled at the display of the AFFS manpower intake. He wasn’t alone either.

The graph’s steady curve toward the bottom had not just reversed into an upswing but looked like someone had just strapped a dropship engine to it and lit it off at full burn.

“...right. So, what are we doing with the excess?” Paul finally said, still boggling at the unexpected good news.

“We have made our quota for November AND December. And have a waiting list for slots to open. For that matter, on Panpour, we had a group of men and women break into the recruiter’s office before it opened just so they could sign up first that day to avenge Kentares.”

Paul turned to the Marshal commanding Military Administration. “Get them on the rolls ASAP and get some money shaken loose to expand our training programs. I’m not looking this gift horse in the mouth. Let’s start to make good our losses, folks! Rotate out what cadre we can from shattered units as we pull them off the line to get them to pass the lessons on to the rookies. I’ll get Baroness Maclin at Ways and Means to start another war bond subscription to pay for it all. According to her, they’re selling almost as fast as she can issue them, if not faster. Just make sure that we don’t wreck the manpower pools in our critical industries to supply Mechs and munitions to win this war.”

As the staff made notes, Paul looked. “What’s next?”

“Communique to the First Prince from Sian, Sire.” Countess Cunningham, representing the Department of Military Intelligence, pulled out a green laserdisc labeled with the Capellan seal. She slotted it into the terminal and the display of AFFS manpower fuzzed out in static.

The static reformed to show a young Asian woman dressed in a martial artist’s plain gi robes with her hair up in a ponytail held by a pink scrunchy. She sat in a Capellan-styled hardwood chair in front of a painted rice-paper screen showing butterflies and flowers in an Oriental style. The woman had clearly just been pulled from her exercise and looked almost as worn out as Paul felt.

She bowed her head gracefully in a clear sign of respect to the audience.

Cunningham spoke up. “That’s Chancellor Ilsa Liao herself.”

Ilsa spoke in fluent English, with the faintest trace of her native Mandarin Chinese in her quiet and pain-filled words.

“Greetings, Paul Davion. I wish to offer my personal condolences to you, your younger brother, and to your family for the loss of your father and grandfather to base treachery. I too know the pain of parents who departed from me too soon. All I can say from my own mourning is that those departed from us still watch over us from the afterlife to comfort us. Your honored dead will be proud of you if you follow their example of bravery, honor, and civilization as I strive to do in my own life for mine.

I regret greatly that the history between our nations and our dynasties has made us enemies from birth, but I wish you to know that I hold no personal animus toward you and your family.

My offer of cease-fire to your grandfather before his untimely death still holds for you as well, should you choose to accept it. But regardless of the necessities of state that must guide your decisions on that and all other matters between your nation and mine and you and I as rulers, you shall have my personal sympathy and prayers in your time of grief as one orphan of this war to another.”​

Ilsa closed her eyes and bowed her head once more as the first tears fell. Paul listened as she then recited from memory a Chinese poem. A golden DMI caption identified the Chinese as the famous death poem of the Ming general and patriot Yuan Chonghuan.

“Yīshēng shìyè zǒng chéng kōng, bànshì gōngmíng zài mèngzhōng. Sǐhòu bù chóu wú jiàng yǒng, zhōnghún yījiù shǒu liáodōng.”​

Her haunted eyes opened and she gave him a sadly compassionate smile as tears trickled down her cheeks.

Paul took a deep breath as Ilsa Liao’s image froze at the end of the transmission. He rubbed his suspiciously shiny eyes and whispered a prayer under his breath as his generals gave him a moment of time and privacy to be the orphaned young man that he was.

Then he took another deep breath and visibly squared his shoulders, as the man that he was gave way to the First Prince that his nation needed in the crisis.

Paul Davion looked at the assembled staff and spoke decisively. “I need a read on Chancellor Liao’s character and current Capellan activity ASAP from DMI. I also need a copy of this cease-fire proposal of hers so I can look it over. Finally, draw up a preliminary staff estimate to see what troops and supplies are available if we can draw down the Capellan March garrisons to fight in the Draconis and Crucis Marches. Let’s see what we can make of this overture from the Capellans!”

He took another deep breath as the wheels were set into motion. “Right, what’s next on the agenda?”

 

[Yellowhammer]

The Best Of Enemies (A First Succession War Battletech AU) -- Chapter V

“No ruler should put troops into the field merely to gratify his own spleen; no general should fight a battle simply out of pique.” -- Sun Tzu, 孫子兵法 (The Art of War)​

Winter Palace, Forbidden City, Liao, Tikonov Commonality, Capellan Confederation

25 December 2796

Ilsa Liao smiled at her cousin Mei Ying, while the third child of the Mei family, one of the Barduc warrior nobility, was shown into her working office by a guard. The smile widened at the sight of a wide-eyed Mei Huiquing looking around the room with her two-year old curiosity as she dragged her newly named Bǎobǎo behind her by one stuffed ear.

She gestured to preempt Ying’s bow to her. “Please, I get enough of that from the courtiers. I wish to speak to you personally as my cousin.”

“Of course Ilsa,” the older woman took her seat and scooped Huiqing into her lap with the ease of practice, “what made you call for me?”

Ilsa sighed. “I… wish to offer you a choice of service. I know that you are Dispossessed. After the destruction of my mother’s Mech on Calloway and now yours on Mirach as well as the wounding of your brother fighting on the Sarna front, House Mei are at some risk of falling out of the ranks of the Barduc. If you say the word, I shall make arrangements to divert one of the mechs from Tao Mechworks to your personal use out of my private funds as a gift for you as a replacement. Or….”

Ying’s breath sucked in like she had been punched.

Huiqing looked up at her adoptive mother’s face and asked, “Why cry?” in her innocent voice.

Ying closed her eyes and thought. “That would be a return to frontline service and away from you, yes?”

Ilsa spoke quietly. “Sadly, yes. The CCAF needs officers badly and I cannot in good faith keep you from the battlefield if that is where you would serve the Confederation better, in your judgement. The other option is to stay Dispossessed as my personal aide and advisor to share with me what wisdom you can. And your friendship, of course, but the demands of the State and my people come first for me always.”

Ying opened her eyes, looking at the young woman opposite from her, seeing the beginning of crow’s feet and the subtle signs of exhaustion, worry, and stress in her face under the mask of Celestial Wisdom.

“How can I forsake my Biǎo mèi, Ilsa? Send the Mech to a better warrior than I.” Ying said with a sad smile. “We all have our roles to play for our common good, and I can do more good at your elbow than on the battlefield.”

Ilsa’s shoulders slumped in relief. “Thank you, Biǎo jiě. I can now give you the other reward that I had planned for you. Tomorrow you shall be invested by me as Hereditary Barduc Lady Mei, with your landholding encompassing the Eight Thunder Dragon Orchard and Winery from my holdings here.” Ilsa grinned. “I know you like the plum wine from there after dinners. Huiqing also likes plums as a treat along with Bǎobǎo, as one would expect with a hungry rabbit like him!”

With that Ilsa pointed to the stuffed rabbit in the young child’s arms, now adorned with a green silk ribbon as part of the mending from the injuries that the ‘Magical Rabbit Doctor’ in the Palace staff had cured (in reality, two of the seamstresses). Huiqing recognized the Chinese word for plum and squirmed. “Want plum!”

Ilsa laughed and pulled a handful of purple candies from her desk drawer. “Have you been a good girl today?”

“Yes! Want plum!”

Ilsa laughed again and handed a pair of the plum candies over. “As you command, Plum Blossom Empress! One for you and one for Bǎobǎo”

The first of the candies were promptly stuffed in Huiqing’s mouth before she ‘fed’ the second to her stuffed rabbit. “Good plum!” She said with a happy smile. “Yummy!”

Ying laughed as a maid arrived to wrangle the ‘Plum Blossom Empress’ and her rabbit before she could convert the contents of the room into her private playpen. “Ahh she is a ray of sunshine! So, what do you wish to talk about Ilsa? The marriage proposals again?”

Ilsa slumped in her chair and rested her forehead in the palm of her hands. “Yes, those. I shall have to wed at some point, my duty to the dynasty and the State demand it. But the politics are… treacherous. Half -- no, four of every five! -- of the bachelors among the Sheng nobility view me as a stepping stone to power for them and their families. I have been using my availability to get them to court my favor for political support, but I shall have one winner and many spurned suitors when I make the inevitable choice.”

Ying walked behind the chair and began to massage Ilsa’s shoulders through her heavy silk robes. “I know you, Ilsa. You will do what you must as you must for duty, but you are still the young girl who would giggle along with me when we read The Water Margin instead of more proper fare in our studies of Chinese.”

Ilsa giggled and waggled a finger, relaxing into the massage. “Aaaaiieeee! Such impertinence saying that the Celestial Wisdom would dare read a book banned by the Ming emperors for obscenity despite it being one of the Four Classical Novels….”

Ying leaned close and quoted one of the more infamous passages from the book in a badly faked male whisper while she worked a knot out of Ilsa’s collarbone.

"These seduction cases are the hardest of all. There are five conditions that have to be met before you can succeed. First, you have to be as handsome asPan An. Second, you need a tool as big as a donkey's. Third, you must be as rich as Deng Tong. Fourth, you must be as forbearing as a needle plying through cotton wool. Fifth, you've got to spend time. It can be done only if you meet these five requirements."

"Frankly, I think I do. First, while I'm far from a Pan An, I still can get by. Second, I've had a big Red Pole since childhood…."​

Ilsa flushed scarlet and began to giggle uncontrollably at Ying’s words. She gasped out through her mirth as the tension left her for the moment: “You depraved woman! Reminding me of my schoolgirl days!”

-----------------------------------​

The phone rang.

Ilsa promptly picked it up as Ying stepped back. “This is the Celestial Wisdom, what is it?”

Her eyes widened at the words from the communication center. “Send the file to my desk holoprojector!”

After Ilsa hung up, Ying cocked her head. “What is it?”

“A reply to my diplomatic overture to the Suns.” Ilsa replied, with subtle tension apparent in her voice. “I can only hope and pray that this Paul Davion is no aggressive fool.”

The projector activated, showing the sword and sunburst crest of the Federated Suns. The image then shifted to a young military man in the dark green uniform of the AFFS with the rank insignia sunburst of a Field Marshal. He was standing in front of a window looking down over New Avalon from Davion Palace. Ilsa noticed that the surrounding wall was timbered in Highspire longwood, a luxury product from the Capellan Confederation that also decorated some rooms in this very palace thanks to its attractive color and grain.

The young man bowed at the chest like a European knight from a long gone age, an impression made more so by a collection of antique medieval-styled swords racked on the wall behind him. His dark-blue eyes sparkled as he spoke in a melodic tenor with the Anglo-French accent of a native of New Avalon.

“Greetings, Chancellor Liao. Thank you for your kind words of sympathy for myself and my younger brother Peter. I was unaware of your own losses to the Mariks before I became First Prince, since my training and preparation were not complete. You already know that trial of character as well as I. Man proposes, but God disposes.”

“I wish to extend my own personal sympathies and prayers to you and your family for your own losses before I address the business of state. Thank you again, and know that I also hold no personal animus for you and yours, Lady Liao.”

“War is truly a great evil, but in our time it has become a necessary act against the greater evils that you identified. In consultation with my High Command and my High Council, I shall be formally accepting your proposal for a cease-fire and staged drawdown along the Sarna, Capella, Saint Ives, and Sian Commonalities of the Confederation where they border the Capellan March. As you said, the situation around Tikonov and Chesterton is too delicate to be handled this way. You should be aware that my forces will use Chesterton as a base for strikes into the flank of the Combine’s advance. Not least because Chesterton is one of the closest planets to Kentares IV, which I must relieve as soon as I can.”​

Ilsa started to weep tears of relief as she smiled brilliantly.

“Unfortunately, I cannot in good faith join in your unconditional return to the Ares Conventions at this time, not with the Dragon at my doorstep and my realm in such peril. I trust that you understand my reasons why. I know that if the Dragon was threatening Sian instead of here, you would do as I must do and for the same reasons. I shall, however, mandate a no first use policy against the Capellan Confederation’s people and soldiers, and order that the Ares Conventions be observed if our realms face each other in battle once more.

”Send a diplomatic team to New Avalon to handle the specifics of an agreement to battle our own monsters. However, they shall have to deal with my deputies, for my place is leading my men from the front. While our realms might never be friends for the reasons we both know, we can agree to be the best of enemies if nothing else.”​

Paul grinned boyishly, and then walked to the wall with a confident stride.

He pulled an antique Arming Sword from the rack with the unconscious ease of hours in the salle d’armes. Steel flashed brilliantly as he effortlessly swung the blade one handed in a sword form before sweeping it up in a crusader’s salute to kiss the Sword and Sunburst on the round pommel.

He reversed the blade, plunging the tip into the wood floor while he went to one knee. He looked into the camera with fire and determination equal to hers in his dark blue gaze and confident grin.

“Lady Liao, as for your stated desire in your message to my grandfather, your knight now shall sally forth to slay the Dragon and save his people! Fear not! For is he not also named for Saint George, who slew the Dragon to save a helpless maiden in distress in his day, as I shall in my turn! Until we speak again, be of good faith and good heart, for if your heart is pure, your strength is as the strength of ten! Montjoie Saint Denis!!”​

Paul’s grin widened. The image faded to the Sword and Sunburst once more.

The blushing Ilsa stared at the crest, and bit her lip with tears in her eyes and an uncontrollable smile. She felt the burden of rule she would dutifully carry ease its cruel weight.

Ying took one look at her ‘little sister’s’ face and got an unholy gleam in her eyes.

She leaned close to whisper teasingly in Ilsa’s ear. “So, is his Yang Root as powerful as Guān Gōng’s Green Dragon Crescent Blade then, Biǎo mèi~? He’s certainly as handsome as Pan An and as rich as Deng Tong~~.”

“YING!”

-----------------------------------​

Author’s Note: Needless to say, Paul Davion II really did drink the Feddie ‘Arthurian Knightly Ideal’ kool-aid as a boy. And then went for refills a few times.

Just as Ilsa sees herself as trying to live up to the platonic ideal of the Ideal Chancellor (All for the State and my people) so too does Paul Davion strive to be the Once and Future King Arthur of his nation. That’s not to say that he won’t be brutally pragmatic as required, but he’s still an idealist, as is she.

Also to fill folks in, Mei Ying is Ilsa’s maternal cousin (Ilsa’s mother’s older brother is Ying’s father. Hence the terms Biǎo mèi (younger maternal first cousin) and Biǎo jiě (older maternal maternal cousin). The two were schoolgirls together as a big sister/little sister pairing of sorts (that was encouraged by the Mei elders to have a friend in the next Celestial Wisdom). Guān Gōng is the deified name of the hero Guan Yu from the Romance of the Three Kingdoms and one of the paragons of righteousness and loyalty in Chinese culture. The reference is to his signature guandao polearm.

And with this, Book I of The Best of Enemies is concluded, I’ll be timeskipping ahead to show how their plans work out for Ilsa and Paul when I get cracking on Book II (which may be a bit before I start, I wanted to wrap this arc up first). I’d like to thank all the folks on the Brucequest Discord (great quest if you like Battletech, check it out, the links are in my signature!) who commented, offered improvements and suggestions, and gave me feedback before posting. All the good parts of this are your doing, the clunkers are mine. Thanks again, guys!

 

[Yellowhammer]

The Best Of Enemies (A First Succession War Battletech AU) -- Chapter VI

“First lay plans which will ensure victory, and then lead your army to battle; if you will not begin with stratagem but rely on brute strength alone, victory will no longer be assured” -- Sun Tzu, 孫子兵法 (The Art of War)​

Winter Palace, Forbidden City, Liao, Tikonov Commonality, Capellan Confederation

1 January 2798 (Seventeen Months Since the Kentares Massacre Began)

“You don’t have to do this, Ilsa.” Ying stared her cousin in the eyes while Ilsa zipped up her plain jade-green jumpsuit with the rank markings of a junior Technician as they stood in a secured room.

Ilsa shook her head. “In order to get the use of the Teng family’s personal troops, I had to promise to spend two weeks with Shonso Elias Teng.” She grinned like a huli jing fox spirit. “I never said that I would spend time at the vacation resort on Sian that his father rented for my return with him from Liao, and he is a regimental commander. The Confederation needs soldiers more than perfumed and pampered nobility now, so I am giving him a fair test.”

“I know that, Ilsa!” Ying gave her cousin a dirty look. “But the risk you’re taking! You know the plan relies on the Maskirovka succeeding where they failed on Calloway VI. You know how the Teng will attack the Liao if you lead their forces into disaster again; they have always thought they would make better Chancellors than us. Especially if his son dies at your orders!”

Ilsa rubbed her temples. “The war is at a tipping point for us and we must act now to tip the balance in our favor. While we have slowed down Marik’s advances to a crawl and are locking him into a stalemate, he has more industry and more men than we do. If we throw the troops from the Davion border in, we can perhaps push them back, but at the price of shattering those regiments too. Now that the Steiners have nearly devoured the Bolan Thumb and the remnants of the Rim Worlds, the Dragon is starting to turn their way. Their pressure on the League will be lessened.”

Ying’s concern was writ large on her frowning face. “I know that, but if this plan fails you and everyone you lead will die! You saw the data on the planetary defenses alongside me!”

“I know, but they have weaknesses like a house of cards. If we hit them in the right place, it will knock them off balance for a decade.” Ilsa’s uncompromising voice was resolute now that the decision had been made and plans had been put into motion. “They think us weak, encircled, and distracted.”

“Paul has seen the wisdom of keeping our cease-fire secret so he can fool the ISF as well.” Ilsa got a small blush and dreamy look in her eyes as she mentioned the Davion First Prince who had just led his men to reclaim Arcadia, the final formerly Combine-held planet one jump from New Avalon.“He has agreed to leak reports of ‘increased fighting’ between the Syrtis Fusiliers and the St. Ives Lancers to ears that will pass them to Atreus, just as we have ‘informed’ SAFE and the barbarians that we are hard pressed on that front too.”

Ying sighed at the familiar signs of Ilsa thinking about the Davion hero who the people of the Federated Suns were beginning to call ‘Pendragon’ as he led attack after attack to push the axe hanging over their heads back. Then her eyes widened as insight hit her.

Ying gave her cousin a dirty look. “This would have nothing to do with the fact that now that New Avalon is safe for the moment, Paul plans to take the time to meet you to formally sign and announce the cease-fire that has been secretly negotiated. Now that the Kurita barbarian dogs are tied down with insurrections on the Feddie planets that they still hold after butchering Kentares IV and reeling from his counterattacks, he has the time to finally meet his ‘Fair Lady Liao’. Who might just impress ‘Her Knight’ if her bold stroke to shift the balance of the war against the League carries off.”

Ilsa’s blush deepened. “I find his attempts at courtly romance in his letters... charming.” She muttered.

“He’s a terrible poet. You were a better jintishi poet at eight when we learned the basics. Also, I’m better than you still.” Ying observed with an amused grin as she renewed one of their childhood squabbles growing up together.

“Are not!”

“Are too! And he’s worse than you are!”

“He’s trying to learn it in a language not his own.” Ilsa pointed out in defense of Paul Davion after sticking out her tongue and giggling. She grew a goofy smile when she remembered Paul’s valiant but doomed attempt at Tang Dynasty ‘modern form poetry’ in the last letter that she had received from him. “And he’s honest. He’s not hiring a poet to write professional verse for him, unlike many I could name such as Elias Teng. No actual poet could be that horrible no matter the yuan paid.”

“Or the ‘poet’ is a thief with larger stones than the Great Sage Equal To Heaven to rob the ruler’s treasury so brazenly!” Ying interjected with her own laughter. “Remember that other poem two months ago? Aiiiiieeee!”

Ilsa started to giggle again uncontrollably as the smile widened and the blush spread. “Comparing him and me to foxes tricking dragons, indeed!”

“At least he got the trickster aspect of our folklore of fox spirits right. Unlike everything else. But it’s still bad poetry worthy of being enshrined as how not to write a poem!” Ying laughed at how the (rain and life giving noble rulers of the waters in Chinese folklore) evil, stupid, and cowardly dragon had been subdued by a pair of (in folklore treacherous, cruel, and seductive) heroic and cunning huli jing.

“I can’t argue that point either.” Ilsa conceded after the laughter ran its course and both sobered up.

Ying looked Ilsa in the eyes. “I do hope that Paul is not the only reason that you came up with the plan for Operation Léitíng, Ilsa.”

Ilsa shook her head. “Not the only reason, no. There are weaknesses in FWLM defenses, the Maskirovka has infiltrated the system I mean to strike to get agents into the correct positions to act, I have shifted forces in secret from Saint Ives to here in Tikonov Commonality, and if we even manage to merely damage the primary target, the political, military and economic consequences on the League will be… substantial. And I even shall have our Mechs painted in LCAF colors en-route to lay initial blame upon the Steiners rather than us until I return home in triumph and let them know that we have plucked the pretentious chicken’s feathers. You sat in on the planning as we worked it out, Ying.”

“I know, and the morale boost to the Confederation once we show how the Mariks were hit would be significant. Just… be careful, Ilsa. I won’t be there to cover your back on the battlefield and the Teng Lancers are not the Red Lancers.” Ying said with a sigh while she hugged her cousin.

Ilsa glanced at the clock and sobered up. “Time for you to dance visible attendance on my body double as the ‘Celestial Wisdom’ returns to Sian and her duties after the traditional winter visit to her family’s homeworld to honor her ancestors and heritage. As for the Red Lancers, I have assigned a Lance to me, the rest will be striking Andurien to draw Kenyon’s eyes and forces south rather than north.”

“I know and I’ll play my part in this gambit, Ilsa. Just take care of yourself, my little cousin.” Ying said quietly, then hugged Ilsa again. “I better not be the one to tell your poet that you went and got yourself killed heroically trying to impress him!” She finished with a wagging finger at Ilsa. “And don’t even get me started on what I’d have to say to the Duke of Saint Ives!”

-----------------------------------​

Royal Court, Davion Palace, New Avalon, Crucis March, Federated Suns

9 January 2798 (Eleven Months Since the Kentares Massacre Ended)

Paul Davion nodded slightly to the president while he and the rest of the thousand-strong High Council of the Federated Suns took their seats.

Count DuVall nodded back as the political allies shared a look while the rest of the nobility and elected representatives from every planet in the Federated Suns took their seats.

DuVall banged his gavel on the speaker’s platform. “My Lords and Ladies, I declare the first meeting of the High Council of the Federated Suns in 2798 to be open! The President recognizes the First Lord of the Star League, Duke of New Avalon, and First Prince, Paul Davion II!”

A stir of surprise and anticipation ran through the crowd at his words.

Paul stood from his assigned seat and marched to the platform like he was marching in review at NAMA in front of the Commandant and other staff. He sharply right faced as he arrived, and nodded to the speaker, the High Council, and the holocameras regally.

Remember, never let them see you sweat, and fake it till you make it!

He adjusted the microphone while his dark blue eyes swept the assembled nobility as if they were his soldiers on the battlefield.

Unlike many of the other nobles who were dressed in ornate court finery, Paul’s attire was that of an AFFS Field Marshal’s dress uniform. The only concessions that he had made to this not being a military operation were the cloak of fox fur behind him, a polished leather sword belt and sword, and a jeweled chain of office with the rampant fox arms of New Avalon in ruby on the golden shield. The gold of the chain of office that he had commissioned for this moment, and the polished metal of the half-breastplate starburst of his AFFS dress uniform sparkled in the sunlight from the round sword and sunburst window overhead illuminating him in red, orange, and gold.

He smiled confidently at the audience for his address and nodded his head to the President.

“Thank you, President DuVall.”

He turned to survey the High Council and his voice swelled in a command voice suited to the drill field -- or the battlefield.

“My Lords. My Ladies. I come before you to inform you that with the tragic death of the last of the Camerons, the titles of First Lord and Duke of New Avalon held by the late Richard Cameron passed to my grandfather both by right of inheritance, but also by the last will of the prior First Lord given to us when he ordered Grandfather to be the regent for his infant daughter Amanda, who sadly perished in the Coup as well. With Grandfather’s murder at the hands of an assassin sent by the ISF, it has fallen upon my shoulders. Before your august company, and the peoples of my world, both those present here today and those watching and listening elsewhere who stand witness to my oath, I, Paul George Davion, First Lord of the Star League, Duke of New Avalon, do solemnly pledge my life, my energies, and my sacred honour to becoming the best suzerain that I possibly can for the planet of New Avalon upon which I stand and the people whom I shall govern as their planetary ruler.”

Paul bowed his head and crossed himself as he whispered a prayer. “So mote it be, amen.”

His head rose.

Fire filled his eyes and steel filled his voice.

“As you know full well, our realm finds itself at war. The martyred dead of Kentares IV cry out in their millions for vengeance upon the bloody-handed tyrant who butchered them! Young and old, man, woman, and child, Jew, Christian, Hindu, Muslim, and Buddhist alike cry out from martyred Kentares for divine justice! Before my people, I swear that I shall never rest nor flag, nor falter until every planet that the Dragon has trod upon is liberated once more! I shall ensure that our borders are secured from another sneak attack such as has wounded us grievously! My Lords, My Ladies, My People, we shall never rest, we shall never flag, we shall never falter, we shall pay whatever the cost must be! We shall give those crying voices of the martyred dead of Kentares what they require of us as God wills it! Defeat to the Dragon! Justice for our dead paid by the Kuritas thrice over!”

All Paul’s worries, all his fears, all his feelings of inadequacy in a position too big for him vanished in an instant when man met moment.

Never let them see you sweat and fake it till you make it!

The energy filling the chamber from his receptive audience flowed through him.

Paul discarded the planned and carefully rehearsed and memorized speech to speak from the heart to his people.

The crowd rose as one to their feet while Paul drew his arming sword from his side.

He held it aloft like his ancestors had done in England and France on the battlefield to rally their men.

Sunlight from the round stained glass window illuminating him with the Sword and Sunburst shone from the steel as his voice became a clarion call to arms.

“Our soldiers have begun the liberation of our people and the avenging of Kentares, but it is only the beginning! My Lords, My Ladies, My People, look into your hearts! What heroes among you shall follow me to slay the Dragon and avenge our dead? What heroes shall follow me to our final ultimate victory as my brothers and sisters in arms?”

"REMEMBER KENTARES!!!”

The answering roar of the crowd shook the Royal Court to the rafters.

Author’s Note: This update brought to you by Sabaton’s Shiroyama.

To clarify a subtle in-universe point here, the First Prince title is a Fed Suns’ governmental position but NOT an actual feudal title (similar to Ned Stark’s titles of Warden of the North and King’s Hand in Game of Thrones). The feudal title of Duke of New Avalon was linked to the First Lordship thanks to a political deal Alexander Davion did with Ian Cameron about planetary development when the Suns joined the Star League. Paul Davion was the first to reclaim it from the now-dead Camerons so he could use it to further his reformation of the Suns to respond to the crisis.

 

[Yellowhammer]

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)​

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....

 

[Yellowhammer]

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)​

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.

-----------------------------------​

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.

-----------------------------------​

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.”

-----------------------------------​

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.

 

[Yellowhammer]

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)​

’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.

-----------------------------------​

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.”

-----------------------------------​

’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.

-----------------------------------​

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!”

-----------------------------------​

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.

-----------------------------------​

’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.

-----------------------------------​

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.

 

[Yellowhammer]

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)​

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.”

-----------------------------------​

’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!”

-----------------------------------​

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?”

-----------------------------------​

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.

 

[Yellowhammer]

The Best Of Enemies (A First Succession War Battletech AU) -- Chapter XI

“Let your plans be dark and impenetrable as night, and when you move, fall like a thunderbolt.” -- Sun Tzu, 孫子兵法 (The Art of War)​

’FWLS Duchess Sofia Cameron-Jones’, Enroute to Irian III, Irian System, Marik Commonwealth, Free Worlds League

1120 31 January 2798

“Copy Pad thirty-eight at Irian Control. Entering approach vector Gamma-thirteen now. See you on the ground Mikaela. How’s your brother’s wife doing?”

“Cassie’s doing well, thank you! The doctor says it’s a boy.”

“Another boy? Didn’t you tell me she wanted a girl?”

“Yeah, but what can you do. Anyway, Irian Metals says that they will have the Cargomechs waiting for you to unload, Sooraj. Stay safe up there!”

Sooraj looked over at his wife manning the sensor panel. “Six more hours and we’ll be on our way home.”

“Yes. Hmm, that’s interesting…” Draupudi Harish said as she looked at the display.

“What is it, dear?”

“The naval picket is moving toward the pirate point at one gee. And there’s a formation of military dropships on final approach ahead of us.”

Sooraj’s eyes widened. “They know we’re coming, alert the Celestial Wisdom!”

-----------------------------------​

Recharge Station, Zenith Point, Connaught System, Marik Commonwealth, Free Worlds League

1130 31 January 2798

In a flash of light and a soundless explosion, the recharge station exploded in a nuclear detonation. The three hundred fifty crew and passengers who had been waiting to transfer ships when the Capellans had stormed the station perished in a searing instant when the warhead’s fireball turned the cargo bays that they had been locked into ‘for their own protection by CCN Marines into plasma.

Faintly visible beyond their funeral pyre were the moving stars of the FWLN Second Fleet looking to engage the raiding armada as they decelerated for an engagement that would happen tomorrow.

-----------------------------------​

’FWLS Duchess Sofia Cameron-Jones’, Enroute to Irian III, Irian System, Marik Commonwealth, Free Worlds League

1123 31 January 2798

“It’s an unscheduled military convoy from the looks of things. Two Overlords and three Unions so a full regiment.” Sooraj’s face frowned on the comm line from the bridge to her cockpit. “It’s not unknown to happen here when regiments move through for repairs and refits, but the timing is not good.”

Ilsa paled, her eyes wide as she realized what this meant. She then swallowed and took a deep breath. “You’re right. Sound the alarm to prepare for heavy thrust and maneuvering! The moment you get a report of unknown jumpships in the system, get on the line with port control. Make a maximum burn to the safety of the surface and sell panic on board. No matter what, get us down at the Kirin River Spaceport!” Her voice was very controlled. “Once you’re down, stand by to evacuate with the Techs and other non-combatants when our Dropships land. Maximov will rig the ship to blow behind us.”

She punched a button. A technician’s face formed. “Ling, send the ‘immediately go codeword, append with enemy naval picket force enroute to Irian III L1 point, additional FWLM ground forces present’!”

Ilsa cut the line mid-reply from the Tech, Her heart pounded as she opened three more comm channels and additional faces formed on her monitors. “Colonel Teng, Colonel Menitsky, Colonel Zaitzev. Intelligence reports are that there are likely to be additional FWLM forces present. Estimate one regiment plus of Mechs that will be disembarking when we arrive. We must seize a planetary beachhead in our first strike. Brief your troops to expect unexpected motions as we make planetfall and to expect combat once we leave the egg. You’re the Confederation’s best and I hand-picked you for a reason; show the Mariks what you’re made of.”

The infantry colonels winked out. Teng lingered. “Celesti-- Ilsa. How bad is it?”

Ilsa sighed. “I don’t know, Elias, but I fear the worst. I hope not, but I fear that it is.”

-----------------------------------​

Zenith Point, Connaught System, Marik Commonwealth, Free Worlds League

1138 31 January 2798

With a flash of light, a pair of Vincent Mark XXXIX corvettes vanished into hyperspace. Then flash after flash of light followed as the Capellan armada jumped into hyperspace ahead of the League Navy’s response force.

-----------------------------------​

L1 Pirate Point, Irian III, Irian System, Marik Commonwealth, Free Worlds League

1137 31 January 2798

Space rippled and exploded as the Vincents reemerged. CCN Tiger’s drive blazed immediately upon arrival as her paired Barracuda missile tubes spat nuclear-tipped anti-shipping missiles at the trio of League Warships -- Two Vincent-class Corvettes identical to the Capellan ships screening a League II- destroyer -- closing fast. Behind her, her sister CCN Hare, followed suit at three gravities flank speed, spinning frantically around her base vector to try to throw off the incoming enemy fire as her gunners stood ready to try to shoot down the inbound missiles while she sent ASMs out as fast as she could fire.

Then a hypersonic hail of blocks of iron the sizes of trucks slammed into Hare’s port quarter. Her 400,000 tons shook like a leaf in a hurricane while FWLS Tannenberg riddled Hare with the League-II destroyer’s battery of Naval Gauss Rifles.

Armor splintered, precious oxygen boiled away into space, and the bodies of a quarter of her crew -- the lucky ones killed in the impact, the unlucky doomed to suffocate as they floated helplessly -- flew out of the hole punched in her armored hide.

Yet she still fought on to buy time for the larger ships to get into the fight. Operating under emergency power her surviving missile tube spat more nuclear-armed death at the goliath bearing down on her.

Then another volley of Naval Gauss slugs slammed into the crippled Hare. Her #3 fuel tank ripped open and the liquid hydrogen for her fusion plant inside flash-boiled, joining the stream of oxygen flowing from her mortally wounded side in a lethal mixture.

One more missile was launched before she caught fire, roasting her crew alive as she spun out of control with flame spilling from her sides.

Then it was the Capellan turn.

The first nuclear missiles from CCN Tiger and the dying CCN Hare screamed in, passing those fired by the other FWLN provincial fleet corvettes POS Valor and POS Victory.

Spears of coherent light lashed out at the inbound missiles in a deadly web as gunners tried to shoot down the inbounds. Captains maneuvered while ECM jamming fought penetration aids.

Valor shot down the two aimed at her thanks to the frantic last-ditch fire.

Victory was less lucky as Hare’s second to last missile launch found its target. With a flash of eye-searing light, the missile detonated in a skin-skin hit on the corvette’s fore starboard autocannon battery. When the radiation burst faded, there was just cooling debris radiating out from the explosion.

Meanwhile, Tannenberg limped clear from a pair of nuclear fireballs from missiles that had been shot down danger-close to her hull. Glowing gouges and craters were all that was left of her port sensor array.

Tiger had no chance to savor her triumph. A quartet of nuclear missiles blew her to pieces moments later.

-----------------------------------​

Tannenberg rolled ship to present her undamaged starboard flank to the Aegis coming for her, Meanwhile the Lola I-class destroyer headed for Valor to crush the smaller corvette before she could get among the dropship swarm heading for Irian to pick on targets that she could possibly kill.

Aboard Tannenberg’s bridge, the captain sent out another message reporting the enemy forces as the damage alarms howled. He then turned to his executive officer and pointed.

“Set ramming course for that Aegis! Maximum possible thrust! Concentrate fire on her!”

Aboard the Aegis-class Cruiser CCN Kalvar Lorix

Olivia Toledana prayed in a terrified helpless voice as the ship shuddered with the rapid changes of combat maneuvering and the vibrations of her battery of naval autocannon.

“Hail Mary, full of grace, the Lord is with thee….”

Then the ship groaned again with the impact of Naval Gauss slugs gouging tons of ferro-carbide plate off to try to punch through to the vitals of the elderly ex-Star League Navy warship. An alarm sounded when a wave of heat filled the air from her lasers firing,

The cabin where Olivia had strapped herself to the bed shook and bucked like a wild horse as more slugs hammered the ship around her.

Tears leaked from her closed eyes down her white cheeks.

She whimpered in fear as she continued the prayer that she had learned as a little girl and had rarely thought of until the terror of her possible death had sent it to her mind once more. Her hand clutched the rosary around her neck in a death grip.

“Holy Mary, Mother of God, pray for us sinners, now and at the hour of our death…

-----------------------------------​

Irian III, Irian System, Marik Commonwealth, Free Worlds League

1247 31 January 2798

“They’ve broken through the picket...what’s left of them. Tannenberg… well you saw for yourself, Governor.”

“Damn Elsies! Load the air wings with nuclear ASMs to try to take them out. Scramble the Atrean Dragoons and Free Worlds Guards, along with all militia units.”

The aide nodded.

In the background, the display showed every dropship near Irian making haste to the ground at maximum thrust to avoid getting caught in the nuclear crossfire.

-----------------------------------​

’FWLS Duchess Sofia Cameron-Jones’, Kirin Spaceport, Kirin River, Irian III, Irian System, Marik Commonwealth, Free Worlds League

1520 31 January 2798

Ilsa Liao strode her Thunderbolt out of the gantry that had held her down during the terrifying two and a half gee plummet to the spaceport’s pad. As she passed the next makeshift Mechbay, Elias Teng’s Warhammer joined her. Then the Black Knight and Crusader formed up behind them.

A light flickered on her console. “Go!”

Outside, in the control tower looking over the acres of ferrocrete, one of the staff frowned at the ovoid of a 50,000 ton Mammoth nearby. Sensors were picking up unusual readings.

He picked up the phone to the drop port’s security. “Do me a favor and check out the fatty on Pad 38.”

Then he turned back to the approaching multi-regimental strike displayed on the main display. He gulped and made sure that the air control radars were getting the data as the first Battlemechs hit the atmosphere above him.

Then the Mammoth exploded in a sudden cloud of smoke and fire that enveloped the jeep containing the patrol he had vectored to check the unusual readings.

-----------------------------------​

Markesan, Occupied Federated Suns Space, Markesan Operational Area, Crucis March, Federated Suns

31 January 2798

With a ground shattering thud, Paul Davion landed on a rocky hillside of a wooded river valley leading toward the capital city of New Athens. He breathed in and out as he settled his cross-hairs on a battle-scarred DCMS Stinger trying to fall back and outmaneuver the AFFS advance.

Remember Kentares!

His forefinger clenched on the trigger and with a flash of blue light and thundercrack from his right arm, Dragonslayer spoke.

The Light ‘Mech shattered like glass when the Gauss Rifle slug hit it square in the chest. Its dismembered arms and legs flew away in spinning arcs from the force of the hypersonic slug as its machine gun ammunition cooked up in a string of firecracker pops.

Paul’s lips curled back from his teeth in a vengeful smug smile when he looked for more Snakes to stomp.

Then a double crack of thunder sounded as Leftenant-Colonel du Chaine’s Pillager sent a pair of Gauss Rifle shots downrange into a Wolverine that had turned to provide fire support to cover the retreat. The Arkab Legion Mech collapsed to its knees as the double hammerblow knocked its gyro out of synch.

Paul mercilessly dropped the crosshairs on the immobilized Snake and fired his LRMs at the cripple. He then grinned as his cousin’s Victor and Smith’s Grasshopper bounded through the trees on jump jets to close and finish off the wounded DCMA Mech.

A massive volley of LRMs flew from behind a nearby ridge to blow tree branches to pieces around the pair of close assault ‘Mechs’ while armor plates were blasted and dented by the missiles that hit home.

The AFFS advance didn’t falter for an instant.

Paul’s blue eyes narrowed and he pointed with his single hand to a hill ahead and to the left. “Scale that and we can pour fire down on their support element. Let’s go!”

With a roar, both Assault ‘Mechs took flight on columns of fire to bring vengeance for Kentares.

-----------------------------------​

Paul descended the ladder with sweat soaking his body. He numbly looked at the battered and scored armor panels and visible internal damage thanks to absorbing heavy LRM fire from the pair of Archers who had hit him hard when he skylined himself on that hill.

Fortunately, du Chaine had been backing him up in the fire exchange until Tom and Smith could close and overwhelm. With that, he glanced over at the dark skinned Capellan Marcher as she made her way out of the cockpit of her hundred-ton titan.

“Paul!” He turned on his heel at the shout. He turned pale at the sight of the angry face of General Thomas Halder-Davion, who was commanding this regiment and was his primary tactical advisor.

He gulped, visibly restraining his impulse to salute like a cadet in the field.

His uncle pulled him aside behind a collection of supply crates while Techs with cutting torches, repair kits, and replacement armor patches descended on Dragonslayer.

“Paul, what were you thinking skylining yourself like that!?” Tom asked with concern in his eyes.

“I was working on knocking out that LRM support that was hitting you and Smitty….” Paul began then trailed off at Thomas’ raised hand.

The older Davion rubbed his temples and snapped out in a frustrated voice. “Actually, you were trying to get yourself killed! Once we took that Wolvie out, they didn’t have eyes on us anymore. So they would have to shoot blind, retreat, or advance into our guns until you showed up as a perfect target for them. Paul…” The tone became fatherly. “What’s your role in our lance?”

Paul sighed. “Provide long range fire support for the infighters alongside du Chaine. Learn from your example how to coordinate tactical combat while managing the operational picture. Since I’ll need to be in command in fact as well as in name. Especially once we reach the later stages of our strategic plans.”

“Exactly!” Thomas looked at Paul. “You could get away with straight frontal attacks earlier since the Dracs were reeling and our troops didn’t care how many of their bodies that they stacked up in order to take it to them. But those types of Pyrrhic victories, even if won by us, will lose us the war in the long run. You have to know your enemy. Take this garrison unit who are fighting us. The Arkab are hit and fade ambush specialists and could have had a headhunter lance waiting to take the bait. Which you did when you got too aggressive.”

Paul bit his lip and finally nodded with a deep sigh, “Another damn fool Leftenant mistake then?”

“Yes, another damn fool Leftenant mistake, Paul. You were overaggressive and fixated on the known targets and not the hidden threat. Which is expected to a degree. After all, in the normal course of events you would be a Leftenant looking at making Captain. But you don’t have the luxury of growing out of this stage of your leadership skills the gradual way for normal officers, Paul.” Thomas clapped him on the shoulder. “So, once that Wolvie’s down, what should you have done then with blind LRM fire coming from behind the ridge.?”

Paul bit his lip. “Cover your movement up the valley from my current position and THEN move to that hill when you crested the ridge as a coordinated attack with you in close and me up high?” He said, replaying the attempted ambush in his mind.

“Exactly! I know you want revenge for Kentares, we all do. But we need a First Prince who leads with his brains and not with his balls.” Thomas said.

Paul sighed. “I’ll try to do better next time, Uncle Thomas, it’s just…”

His uncle leaned in close and dropped his voice. “You feel like you haven’t done enough to justify all this?”

A nod and a deep sigh as Paul’s shoulders slumped.

“You feel like you’re a faker at times, Nephew?”

Another nod.

“If it helps, I feel the same way from time to time still. It’s the imposter syndrome many leaders have. You work through it, and don’t show it to the subordinates in a crisis, only after. Also,” Thomas pulled out a video data disc with a knowing smirk curling at the corner of his lips, “you have some fan mail to read.”

Paul visibly cheered up at the sight of the green triangle, arm, and dao on the disc.

“You’ll be off the line for a bit until they put Dragonslayer back together. Get a bite to eat, get some rest, and think about what you’re going to send her back in your next message now that we liberated the HPG. Also… you might want to consider talking to her about how she handles the feelings that you struggle with. She’s in the same boat that you are.”

Paul nodded, then slapped his uncle on the shoulder. “Thanks Uncle Thomas, I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

“Muddle through somehow or die gloriously achieving victory is my best guess, My Prince.”

 

[Yellowhammer]

The Best Of Enemies (A First Succession War Battletech AU) -- Chapter XII

“In difficult ground, press on; In encircled ground, devise stratagems; In death ground, fight.” -- Sun Tzu, 孫子兵法 (The Art of War)​

’FWLS Duchess Sofia Cameron-Jones’, Kirin Spaceport, Kirin River, Irian III, Irian System, Marik Commonwealth, Free Worlds League

1535 31 January 2798

Ilsa breathed in and out harshly as the secondary monitor updated with another unit reporting readiness.

To the right of the massive cargo door, a demolitions technician -- a pygmy among the metal titans filling the bay -- crouched behind a blast shield. The woman raised her fist overhead and Ilsa responded by raising Shíshī’s left arm and clenching his fist.

The massive cargo bay, filled with the Battlemechs of the 6th Teng Lancers, was overflowing with anticipation. Thousands of tons of high-tech war machines tensed like a tiger about to spring on a deer.

Paul… I wish you were here alongside me… I---

The final status update that she had been waiting to be displayed suddenly updated to ‘ready status’.

The moment of contemplation in the deep breath before the plunge faded like dew on the grass.

Ilsa yelled the command to attack with everything she had in her body, mind, and soul.

“Gōngjí!!!”

Shíshī’s fist dropped.

Ilsa slammed the throttle to the stops and charged at the hatch.

With a flash and a roar the explosives that had been set at the anchor points to the hatch detonated.

Tons of metal suddenly had their connectors blown free from the dropship.

Then Ilsa, side by side with her Lance’s Black Knight and Crusader, hit the teetering metal with their fists and the weight of their charge, served to finish the job gravity was doing to pull the doors down, knocking them over to to serve as an assault ramp.

Screaming with the exhilaration of combat, Ilsa Liao slammed her Battlemech’s foot down on the ground of Irian III as the first CCAF soldier to make planetfall. She almost seemed to be outside herself, viewing the actions as a bystander rather than participant.

Behind her the orange and black painted Mechs flowed from the Dropship in an unstoppable torrent, firing as they charged.

The upper cargo hatches on the upper tier of the Mammoth opened. Their alcoves were filled with clouds of smoke and jets of flame as the Jump Infantry took flight on their rocket packs above her head.

Ilsa’s madly joyful eyes scanned the area in front of her with the same fervor as her ancestors had viewed battlefields during the Warring States, Taiping Rebellion, or the Three Kingdoms when China burned and countless millions died. Savage anticipation filled her soul like a predator seeking prey when her mech’s sensors locked onto the control tower coordinating activities at the spaceport.

Her fingers released the triggers and a wave of heat filled the cockpit as her PPC bolt and a trio of green laser pulses blew the top of the ferrocrete control tower to pieces.

Her Battlemech crushed the shattered wreckage of a spaceport security force’s jeep and the screaming driver trapped in the wreck underfoot.

-----------------------------------​

“Marik Guards!”

Angry violet light appeared on her tactical display from a row over.

Shíshī pivoted to Ilsa’s right with a whine of contracting myomers at her mental command. Her crosshairs dropped onto the opening hatch in a purple painted Overlord about to disgorge its contents.

“Hit your objectives! I’ll handle these dogs!” She hissed hatefully as her hard brown eyes found the first of the bone white and purple painted battlemechs began to descend the boarding ramp through the smoke and chaos.

The missile rack covers on the enemy Bombardier’s shoulders snapped open while the anti-missile turret that had replaced its head elevated.

Ilsa’s fingers released the triggers.

Simultaneously the enemy fire support design belched forth a massive cloud of missiles from its triple racks.

Smoke plumes filled the air as LRM and SRM trajectories interpenetrated while emerald and azure beams of light linked the Thunderbolt to Bombardier.

Then flame followed as the AMS fired at the incoming missiles, destroying half a dozen of her spread.

It wasn’t enough.

The Bombardier staggered from the slabs of armor melted and slagged across its right side and front. Then one of Ilsa’s missiles found the LRM ammo bin. The right half of the Free Worlds Guards Mech exploded in a fireball.

Meanwhile the massive cloud of LRMs and SRMs hammered into Ilsa like a hailstorm.

Shíshī toppled onto his left side as two and a quarter tons of armor were suddenly shattered and cratered all across his front and left side, obliterating the paint scheme there from head to toe. Ilsa was nearly tossed from her seat as the world whirled around her while alarms screamed.

The heat from her alpha strike sent her ‘Mech’s reactor into auto-shutdown as her hand missed the override button.

Ilsa gasped -- ignoring the sudden pain in her left side and the blood trickling down her arm from minor spalling from a cockpit hit -- as she fought to get her bearings through the double hammerblow of the wave of heat and the impact as she tried to shake off the concussion that had dazed her.

Then her eyes widened in shock and awe at the tilted sight visible through her cockpit’s now cracked and scored synthetic topaz ‘glass’.

A platoon of Jump Infantry had suddenly appeared through the chaos.

Meanwhile a second Bombardier was trying to pass the corpse of its lancemate in the now-blocked hatch so it could get a coupe de grace on her helpless Mech.

Smoke filled the air as the Infantry landed, fired, and took flight again.

Their wave of shoulder-fired one shot SRMs converged on the Bombardier.

The AMS was unable to stop them all.

Tentacles of liquid flame covered the Marik ‘Mech as the Inferno rockets detonated, covering it and the nearby area in burning superheated gel.

Ilsa swallowed in fear when the Mech suddenly became a steel and myomer funeral pyre for its doomed pilot who was roasting alive. Again she felt the proof of her worst fear trickle down her leg when she wet herself in terror once more.

Then tears filled her eyes.

As she watched helplessly, one of the ‘lesser’ infantry who had just saved her life landed at the edge of a puddle of inferno gel.

Flame began to spread unstoppably up his trouser legs as he took flight again.

He fired his laser rifle as he joined his comrades who were storming the dropship against orders even as he continued to burn alive.

The dying man who had just saved her vanished forever in the smoke and chaos of war.

One more anonymous casualty in the largest war in humanity’s history.

Ilsa whispered to herself in the silence of her cockpit before she began to emergency restart Shíshī once more. “Stal' za Rodina.... Stal' dlya Tikonova….”

-----------------------------------​

Irian Weapons Works Main Factory Complex, Kirin River, Irian III, Irian System, Marik Commonwealth, Free Worlds League

1703 31 January 2798

Autocannon slugs, lasers, and missiles hammered into Shíshī’s chest, scouring away the last few armor layers protecting his vitals. A warning light and tone sounded as the report of damage to her -- fortunately emptied in prior combat -- LRM ammo bins flashed on the screen showing the red and yellow outline of her nearly-destroyed Mech.

Ilsa’s eyes narrowed while she responded with her PPC, SRMs and lasers into the Marik Mech.

The Orion, painted in the black with light purple trim of IWW’s security detachment, crumpled with the sprawl of a destroyed gyro.

Ilsa panted heavily in her sweltering cockpit. The heat was more severe now thanks to the loss of reactor shielding and several heat sinks during the heavy fighting to push through the city and then penetrate into IWW’s main facilities.

But she was finally at her target. The beating heart of the Free Worlds League’s military supply chain.

She staggered inside the hardened underground factory complex and gasped at the acres upon acres of state of the art fabrication machinery along with battlemechs in various stages of assembly.

“Commander, report from the 7th Bulun! They have breached the server farm complex!” Elias Teng’s voice crackled over the radio as he stood his one-armed Warhammer beside her. “We have it!”

Ilsa grinned tiredly. “Victory, Elias. Start blowing the fabricator systems here. I’ll have the 7th download their technical data as planned. Then they upload viral programs to the IMB corporate network to corrupt any backup copies before blowing their server farm to cover our tracks.”

As her subordinates moved to do what damage they could before pulling out ahead of the Mariks’ enraged retaliation, Ilsa closed her eyes.

The image of that nameless and faceless infantryman burning alive to secure this victory filled her mind’s eye.

“Yes, victory. We have paid dearly for it, too dearly perhaps, but victory.” She repeated numbly in a voice filled with pain. She rubbed the streaks of dried blood covering her hastily bandaged arm.

-----------------------------------​

Secure Classified Location, Marik, Marik Commonwealth, Free Worlds League

2 February 2798

Kenyon Marik’s eyes flashed fire and his teeth peeled back from his lips in a snarl of rage. His furious face was as purple as the banner behind him on the wall when he slammed both hands on the table.

“IRIAN!!” He barked out at the nervous FWLM general in the monitor. “You had two crack regiments and a naval picket plus the militia to fight them off! Irian’s the best defended world outside the capital! Los Conquistadores stormed Andurien under your predecessor, General da Silva!”

“We tried, Captain-General…”

“You should have succeeded!!” Kenyon yelled through the real-time HPG connection at the top of his lungs.

“The LCAF smuggled the Tamar Tigers and some infantry into the capital’s spaceport, apparently using cargo dropships. One battalion of the Guards that was reboarding their ship to fight the Elsie Guards from the fixed defenses on the approach to the planetary capital got overrun by the Tigers. We couldn’t shift suborbitally via dropship, not when they had a damaged Cruiser and Destroyer up there in the high orbitals able to pick us off in transit. By the time we could march back, they had hit the defense industries hard with the Tigers and pulled out.” Da Silva’s explanation did nothing to calm Kenyon’s fury.

“What’s the damage estimate?” Kenyon finally barked out as he rubbed his aching ribs.

“Preliminary... four Battlemech fab lines are totally destroyed, nine more are badly damaged at IWW’s Soapstone Mountain facility. It will be months to piece together what we can. The attached Diverse Optics pulse laser assembly plant got slagged hard, it’s a complete write off. IMB’s computer plant for the targeting and tracking computers lost the server farm and two chip burning lines got somewhat shot up, but we have backups offsite and the primary server farm dumped before they blew it, so that could be worse. Brooks wasn’t touched so we have tanks but the fusion motor assembly plants got damaged. Bad but not as bad as it could be. The bomb techs are going over everything looking for nuclear stay-behinds after what happened at the spaceport.” Da Silva finished.

“What happened at the spaceport?” Kenyon demanded as his ribs flared up again with a fresh spike of pain reaching up and down his left side. He frowned at the pain.

“The Tigers left a very large explosive behind.” Da Silva’s face was replaced with the smoking wreckage of a drop port and burned out dropships. “Radiological scans are negative, so we suspect a large conventional explosive, or perhaps they used the hydrogen fuel aboard as the catalyst for a fuel-air explosion. Regardless, the drop port is out of commission until we clear the wreckage.”

Kenyon’s frown deepened. “Right. Have your #2 take over there, secure the sites, do what reconstruction you can. You come here and report to me personally!”

Da Silva’s image faded and Kenyon snapped to his staff. “Get me Thaddeus!"

5 February 2798

Kenyon scowled at the latest report from Irian. While the damage was bad, at least the LCAF had not been able to smuggle WMDs through the security checks.

Otherwise this would be a complete catastrophe instead of merely a disaster. Already, the pre-war stocks of ‘Mechs, munitions, and materiel that he had laid in were nearly exhausted from the demands of the fighting.

He rubbed his palms across his head as he rested his aching body. Once the Elsies reported their success to Tharkad, a major offensive was sure to follow. Unless he took action. He was stripping what he could but more was needed to stop the Elsie attack on him.

The commscreen chimed. “It’s Admiral Marik, sir!”

His son’s face formed in the holographic display. “Father, what’s the crisis?”

He looked into the eyes of his only surviving child and spoke flatly. “The fucking Steiners hit Irian III hard. Really hard.”

Thaddeus’ eyes widened. “Shit, that means…”

“Yeah, they are going to hit us hard. Unless we hit them harder. I’m sending you everyone I have on hand and moving supplies to prop the Elsie frontier up. But I need time to brace for the attack, Thad. There’s only one way to get it now. Burn Hesperus II to a cinder.”

-----------------------------------​

DCMS Forward Headquarters, Robinson, Benjamin Military District (formerly Draconis March), Draconis Combine

3 February 2798

“Tono, more reports from the front. They are of some urgency.”

The nervous voice from the door of the dojo did not slow the attack of the figure in the kimono marked with the Dragon of House Kurita for a nanosecond.

His steel flashed as he began another series of strikes against his ‘sparring partner’.

The young man opposite him, dressed in the remnants of the dark green uniform of a Robinson Military Academy first year cadet gasped in shock as a katana blow severed his hand.

The hand, still clutching his dulled and safety-capped practice blade thudded to the bloodstained tatami mats. Then with a louder pair of thuds, the cadet’s head and torso hit the mat as the next strike landed.

Jinjiro Kurita, First Lord of the Star League, Coordinator of the Draconis Combine, Unifier of Worlds, turned to his pale-faced aide who had announced the message. Burning eyes surveyed the scene, and a smile that had much of rage and none of warmth curled his lips.

“Report.” His voice was filled with authority.

“We have confirmation, Tono. The new First Prince leads the AFFS assault that has driven the Arkab and Benjamin Regulars from Markesan.”

Scarlet droplets from his blade traced patterns on the mats next to the cadet’s corpse as Jinjiro’s smile widened. “Markesan, yes. The Sandoval strikes us on Capac, Imbros III, and Evansville. What of New Valencia and Saunemin?”

“Raids only, looking to probe our garrisons there.” The aide reported after a glance at his noteputer. “Also another thrust has attacked out of Waycross and Edwards toward Cartago and….” The aide broke off and nervously gulped, swallowing hard as his face paled further.

“Out with it, Ichiro. You know how I hate cowards.” The voice of the Dragon was dangerously mild.

“The Kentares IV garrison reports an attack in three-regimental strength.” Ichiro reported with commendable steadiness in his voice as he trembled.

Jinjiro’s eyes filled with churning emotions. “Kentares…” He hissed with soul-deep pain for his murdered father -- shot in the back by a cowardly Davion dog -- as his hand holding the katana clenched with a white-knuckled grip.

The aide swallowed and recited a Buddhist prayer mentally for those about to die.

Then as rapidly as it had emerged, the madness subsided.

“Do not look so sad, Ichiro. The Dragon is done with his kenjutsu practice for the day. War calls to us now like a lover, my samurai! Summon the Dragons of Ivory, Steel, and Gold to my side!”

“But Tono, the supply situation…’

“Is adequate to take the head of my foe as my vengeance for… Chichi-ue.... I shall give orders to my brother Zabu to personally handle the forward supply dumps. He shall iron out the… problems… that have caused my samurai distress. By whatever means are necessary!”

Jinjiro turned to the window. At a gesture, one of the silent guards attending him opened the screen.

“See the Sun set, Ichiro, is it not a glorious sight?”

Ichiro nodded as he relaxed minutely while they watched the blood-red disk of Robinson’s primary sink below the horizon.

“Blood-red Sunset/Swords shall duel in hawk’s nest/Time of the Dragon”

-----------------------------------​

Author’s Note: IMB’s the Irian subdivision that handles targeting/tracking computers that Ilsa’s raid sabotaged. The next runs of chips will be… excessively prone to failure when put under combat heat loading stress thanks to manufacturing faults caused by software corruption in the fab machines (think Stuxnet). The FWL/SAFE/IMB will eventually figure it out when folks put two and two together, but it will plague them for decades to figure out what the fuck's happening, realized that it's sabotage, fix the sabotage and then get all the bad machines out of their equipment inventory. Liaos be nasty bitches, yo.

Also, yes, Jinjiro Kurita was about that crazy OTL (also a brilliant strategist, but dangerously unstable). He’s a strong #2 behind only Stefan Amaris for ‘setting’s worst villain’ title.

As for Kenyon, Ilsa managed to show him what he wants to believe (he currently sees the CapCon as a stubbornly resisting punching bag that he has on the ropes). Basically she just hamstrung him and tossed the bloody shiv into Michael Steiner’s hands.

Overall the damage for IWW is severe but not a total write-off. Battlemech production will be about 25-60% of max output for years while they rebuild the repairable assembly lines, make good damages to their supply chain, and root out all the nasty surprises that Ilsa left for them. It’s a really heavy blow to the FWL/FWLM and fucks Kenyon’s logistics (which are already under heavy strain 11 years into the 1SW) six ways from Sunday.

 

[Yellowhammer]

The Best Of Enemies (A First Succession War Battletech AU) -- Chapter XIII

“All war presupposes human weakness and seeks to exploit it.” -- Carl von Clausewitz, Vom Kriege (On War)​

CCN Pride of Bulun (Ex-FWLN Juliano Marik), High Orbitals of Irian III, Irian System, Marik Commonwealth, Free Worlds League

31 January 2798

Ilsa Liao gave a tired smile as the holographic display updated with the firefly lights of her strike force beginning to lift off from Irian III. She then nodded to Sooraj. “You received the response from our flagship?”

The dropship captain nodded. “It will be my first time docking with a Warship, but military jumpships still use standard collars.” He nodded to his wife. “Put the ship up on the screen.”

The screen flickered and Ilsa gasped at the sight.

The Aegis had clearly seen better days. Massive craters the size of her dropship’s drives were visibly gouged out of the armor in patterns of destruction. One of the trio of thrust nozzles had a bite taken out of it at the end of a deep trench gouged through the aft port quarter of the Warship.

“Get us docked and let’s get home,” Ilsa said with fatigue in her voice. “We did what we came to do.”

Unseen behind this Overlord that her infantry had captured from the Fourth Free Worlds Guards, a massive secondary detonation enveloped the starport that she had lifted off from fifteen minutes ago -- a funeral pyre for the CCAF dead who would never return from Irian III.

Aboard the Aegis-class Cruiser CCN Kalvar Lorix

Ilsa waited while the worst casualties loaded aboard the Dropship were transferred ahead to the ship’s medbay. Finally the hatch cycled and she stepped aboard in the three-quarters gee that the massive drives were generating as the dropships and Warships left Irian.

The eyes of the lieutenant in charge of the docking ports widened at the sight of the exhausted woman in a plain green jumpsuit over her ‘Mechwarrior cooling undergarment and shorts. He saluted her sharply. “C-Celestial Wisdom!”

Ilsa returned the salute. “Your diligence serves the Confederation well. If I may impose on you, can you arrange for someone to take me to the bridge?”

“Of course!” The Lieutenant gave her a look filled with hero-worship as he summoned a subordinate to guide her.

The bridge was a hive of energy as the armada burned away from Irian III to the waiting jumpships, both CCN and CCAF as well as conscripted merchant shipping used for this deep strike. The middle-aged man in the captain’s chair rose to his feet and gave her a sharp, crisp salute which Ilsa returned.

With all due formality to his liege he greeted her. “Celestial Wisdom, your presence aboard honors us!”

“Kong-sang-shao Chao, The Confederation is honored by you and your crew’s service and dedication.” Ilsa responded as she was directed to the assistant communication officer’s seat.

She nearly collapsed into it as the suppressed stress of the combat operation and the understanding that her command responsibility for the success of Operation Léitíng was at an end hit her like a PPC shot to the head. “Do not let my presence inhibit the performance of your duties. The wise man does not meddle in affairs which he knows little of. I would think that applies to a wise Chancellor too, so please give me a status update in terms a non-spacer can understand.”

“Of course. Our extraction plans are going well on schedule. Once we reach the L1 pirate point, we shall dock with our JumpShips. They have hot loaded their K-F drives while we support your ground operations. We’ll make our first jump to the Zenith point of Blue Sava, to recharge normally there. Unless we are intercepted, which is unlikely for such a minor world with no HPG, we shall jump to Mandal, which at last reports is firmly held by our troops.” Chao said, as the green line showed their path out of League space.

Ilsa nodded. “And the League fleet?”

“If they don’t catch up to us here they won’t catch us at all. There are some strategic options they must consider. For example, we could double back and hit Connacht to destroy the shipyard there, attack the factories on Van Diemen IV, or even strike deeper toward their command and control node at Marik.” Chao said confidently, drawing ghostly arrows around the holographic star map. “They have to respect all of those potential strikes. We prevented them coming through the L1 point we used here. That is why we dropped off two Vengeance-class carrier dropships loaded with nuclear-armed strike fighters to hit them when they are helpless if they jump in. If they use a standard Zenith or Nadir jump point into Irian, they can’t catch us in the system’s boundaries before we jump out.”

“Good,” Ilsa said, closing her eyes as her shoulders slumped in the microgravity, “were there any problems with your execution of the plan?” She asked wearily.

“Nothing worth mentioning. We inflicted serious and permanent damage on League shipping and installations at Oliver and then Connaught to fulfill your orders to simulate a Elsie raiding force backing up your infiltration.” Chao responded. He then frowned at the exhausted young woman for a moment taking a candor one might not usually take with their ruler. He pitched his voice lower, “If you were one of my officers, I would order a rest cycle for you.”

Ilsa nodded, with her eyes still closed and her voice hoarse. “I have too much to do. I should look in on the wounded from the surface to provide what comfort I can.”

“The wounded shall still be aboard when you awaken. Until then, you can use my cabin.” Chao said gently, before summoning a pair of the female spacers to gently assist the exhausted young woman to the offered bunk.

Ilsa never noticed the respect and concern in the sidelong glances of the bridge crew while they silently watched her get helped to the cabin. After the hatch cycled, the ship’s crew returned to their duties.

-----------------------------------​

Asgard, Tharkad, Donegal Province, Lyran Commonwealth

9 February 2798

“Archon, I have an update on the situation in the League.” LIC Director Karl von Wolff spoke professionally as he stepped past the guards.

Richard Steiner looked at his elderly spymaster as the man entered the secure conference room where he had been talking to his uncle Paul and General Lestrade in Skye via real-time HPG links. “Well out with it!”

“The Capellan raid has hit Irian III, Archon. The results are extremely severe for the Mariks.” As always, Karl’s voice was precise and sharp when he reported to his overlord.

Richard’s eyes widened and his voice grew sharp. “How severe?”

“Preliminary damage estimates are three to four years to restore something approaching full production. They apparently broke into the main plant complex. They also had a large number of demolition specialists who destroyed key machinery and processes. Their primary strike force were painted as the Tamar Tigers and exfiltrated successfully.” A press of a button lit up a secondary monitor that showed an Irian Media Interstellar spokeswoman showing a burning drop port while cursing the ‘cowardly despicable Elsies’ responsibility for this unprovoked attack. “That kind of news broadcast is the norm now in the League.”

Richard nodded in thought, gesturing to his old friend to get on with what he had to say.

“It seems my counterpart in the Maskirovka has outmaneuvered LIC to assign blame to us.” Karl said neutrally. “Annoying, even though their strike significantly benefits the Commonwealth by crippling one of our main foes. Also, and equally relevant, the strike was within the boundaries of the Ares Convention. No WMDs were used and civilian targets were not targeted, which will reinforce Ilsa Liao’s public statements of fighting a civilized war when the truth eventually leaks out. Quite a model operation; I’d like to know the details so we could learn from their example.”

Richard sighed and looked back at the holograms of his generals. His brow furrowed as he took a moment to think of the situation. “Go to full alert in Skye and down along the League border, General Lestrade. I’ll scrape together what I have available on hand to support you. Uncle, you’ll have to cover Tamar with less, I fear. Does LIC have an idea of what the League will do?”

“We predict domestic pressure on the Captain-General will demand a counterblow and at the earliest possible moment. The likely targets are the jumpship yards at Alarion, Hesperus II, or perhaps a strike to Skye itself to attempt to hit us politically in turn. It must be a major target and it must be soon.” Karl said. He then gave a thin smile. “I suspect that the CCAF will act to strike the League at the earliest possible opportunity once they show a weakness, they are a better target than the Suns and her alliance is of benefit to her -- and us -- by letting Liao and Davion concentrate on our mutual foes.”

“Have you had any luck in securing the Third Regimental Combat Team?” Richard interjected as he looked at a map showing current LCAF troop deployments and status.

“Yes, they have agreed in principle to provide their services on a five-year contract with an option for a sixth year. Mercenary Troop Liaison is working on the verbiage and negotiating the final clauses....”

“Get them on the payroll now; pay whatever’s needed!” Richard demanded, pointing at Paul Steiner. “We need them now! I don’t care what it takes but light a fire under the Mercenary Troop Liaison to get the paperwork signed!”

“At your command Archon.” The unruffled spy exited the room at Richard’s wave of dismissal.

The Archon turned to focus on General Lestrade. “Amanda, I’ll send the mercs to you. We can use one regiment of theirs on Skye proper where they can keep their dependents safely. Send the other two regiments to Hesperus II along with the Ninth Arcturan, Twelfth Arcturan, and Tenth Skye from reserves. I’ll order Hasseldorf to back off his raiding in the isolated thumb worlds so he can cover Alarion and the systems the Mariks need to take to punch a corridor through. Uncle, I’ll send you the Stealths to keep the DCMS off our backs up in Tamar.”

“We’ll get it done.” Lestrade and Paul saluted as the video conference ended. Leaving Richard alone with his own thoughts.

Richard groaned. “I just hope this works….”

-----------------------------------​

Parliament House, Atreus City, Atreus, Marik Commonwealth, Free Worlds League

17 May 2798

Kenyon Marik raised his hand, scowling at the pain of his ribs flaring up again.

“Order, I say order!” He barked out at the angry faces from the speaker’s podium.

“Tyrant! Incompetent buffoon!!” Shouts of rage answered him.

The Speaker of Parliament, one of his chief political allies, gaveled in an attempt to stop the near-riot. “We shall have order or the honorable MPs shall be removed by the Serjeant-at-arms from this special session discussing what is to be done regarding the failures that caused Irian to be so severely damaged!”

Gradually order was established for the moment. Kenyon gave the room a flat stare, attempting to intimidate the purple and gold robed politicians with his power. His eyes lingered on Carter Allison, ruler of the Duchy of Oriente, and his lips twisted in a sneer.

I know who is responsible for this vise that I find myself in now, Allison. You and your ‘loyal opposition’ facade, pah!

Unfortunately, while he had persuaded Parliament to pass Resolution 288, giving him the power to summon and dismiss Parliament along with making his post a lifetime one, he could not just ignore Parliament.

Especially now.

The 2798 military budget had been passed in the January session as a matter of routine already. However, his need to release desperately needed funds to rebuild the shattered industries on Irian III to turn out ‘Mechs and munitions for the FWLM had run square into a roadblock.

He needed Parliament to pass a special emergency funding bill to stave off the complete corporate collapse and bankruptcy of his main military supplier, but in order to do that, he had to summon Parliament to assemble in the Committee of the Whole. The politicians before him made it clear that they would not accept his ‘request’ for a select subcommittee that he could pack with his political allies to pass the needed legislation to be rubber-stamped.

Oh no, it would be Parliament at their most powerful. And most fractious.

When they did assemble at his beck and call, they had first demanded an accounting from him as to how the damn Elsies had wrecked Irian Weapons Works. And what he was going to do about it to prevent their planets from being hit next.

Insolent short-sighted peasants!

Worse, the resentment for his ramming through Resolution 288 to consolidate his power had not gone away among the MPs. Quite the contrary, so this pack of Parliamentary pygmies was taking the fact that he had to come to them hat in hand to try to claw back some of the powers he required to win the war.

Kenyon took a deep breath while ignoring his aching ribs so he could dominate the room. “As I was saying, the best defense for our worlds is a strong offense. Even now Thaddeus, my son and chosen successor as Captain General, has taken naval control of the Hesperus II system and shall seize there what is required to make good Irian’s losses while destroying what the Steiner scum hold most dear! The Elsies have hit us hard at Irian, true, but we shall strike back and claim what is ours with the might of our arms, our beliefs, and our unity! All I require from you is to allocate the needed funds to make good the temporary shortfall in production from IWW until Thaddeus returns with Hesperus’ crown jewels in hand.”

More shouts answered him as his ribs began to ache again. Kenyon found Duke Allison among the Parliament’s body once more. He caught the eye of the political leader of the opposition to his rule.

Don’t think that I and SAFE have not determined who was selling IWW stock before the news of the damages to them leaked out and caused their prices to crash. I’ll break you like I have broken everyone else who stood in my rightful way…

An aide appeared from the side door as he watched the debate, measuring how best to strike. “Captain-General, I have urgent dispatches from the front.”

Kenyon turned and gave the young officer a stern look.

“Out with it, and it better be good.” He snapped peevishly.

‘S-sir, it’s from Andurien. The Capellans have jumped into the system with a large invasion force. Estimates are ten regiments with Warship support. Including,” The aide swallowed, “the Elsie cruiser and destroyer used at Irian.”

Kenyon Marik stared in disbelief as the room hushed at the news.

He grabbed the message paper from the aide’s hand as his face purpled with fury and rage.

His eyes read the impossible words that made no sense as the room started to sway around him and the roar from the angry MPs filled his ears.

“Not the Capellans!! Not Andu---!!” He screamed at the top of his lungs.

Suddenly the pain in his ribs shot up and down the left side of his body like a river of agony.

His arm and jaw were turned into fire when the combination of long hours of work, poor diet, stress, age, and refusal to have his earlier warning signs of cardiac trouble addressed suddenly could no longer be ignored as anything other than the onset of a massive and fatal heart attack.

‘The Eagle’ had just fallen.

-----------------------------------​

Author’s Note: IOTL, Kenyon Marik died of a heart attack on Atreus during January 2804. Here, the additional stress of Ilsa’s masterstroke against Irian which is hamstringing the FWLM and understanding suddenly that he had been outmaneuvered by a girl a third his age did him in. Kenyon just realized that he had sent his best men under his best general off to die against the wrong target on the wrong front and his gains from the war were in serious jeopardy. His dying realization that the weak and despised Capellans had actually suckerpunched him and the FWL quite convincingly in the crotch was Ilsa’s ultimate revenge on the man who killed her uncle and parents over Calloway VI.

Liaos be nasty bitches, yo.

 

[Yellowhammer]

The Best Of Enemies (A First Succession War Battletech AU) -- Chapter XIV

“He who relies solely on warlike measures shall be exterminated; he who relies solely on peaceful measures shall perish.” -- Sun Tzu, 孫子兵法 (The Art of War)​

CCN Pearl of Celestial Wisdom, Sian, Capellan Confederation

16 March 2798

The outer hatch leading to the Overlord-class Dropship cycled. Dressed once more in a Mechwarrior’s uniform with the rank tabs of ‘Captain Zhao’ with her long hair pinned up under a 6th Teng Lancers hat, Ilsa stepped through the hatch on the heels of Elias Teng. Behind her, the Sooraj family and Olivia Toledana followed under their own false identities.

Her nominal superior handed over the order document commanding that he come aboard with his staff to one of the Red Lancers assigned to the dropship. Behind him the outer hatch clanged shut.

The Strategios had requested that he and his command staff be transported to the surface of Sian by this dropship while it performed a ‘scheduled maintenance flight following engine repair.’ That killed two birds with one stone by granting him VIP transport to Sian as befitted his high lineage among the Sheng while it made sure that the Chancellor’s private dropship was ready to serve the needs of the Confederation when she required suitable transportation.

All perfectly routine.

All perfectly innocent.

The Lancers finished scanning the orders and the faces of the group seeking attendance. The commander of this detachment saluted Ilsa as they finished. She returned their salutes and then pulled off the baseball cap and unpinned her hair, letting it fall halfway to her waist.

“All clear Celestial Wisdom. Welcome aboard.”

“Well done, Subcommander Kong. Have the staff show my companions to the rooms prepared for them.” Ilsa responded with a smile for her bodyguards. “Please call for a working meal to be sent up to my quarters so I can start to catch up on the piles of paperwork that have been breeding on my desk thanks to my lack of supervision!”

Ilsa gave the dropship staff a series of smiles and appreciative nods as she passed them in the familiar passageways. She made a point of greeting them by name as best she could, recalling her grandmother’s lessons about rulership. The memory of her Lǎo ye’s words seemed to echo in her mind. ’The Chancellor is the embodiment of the State, but the State is made of people, Ilsa! Each has their role from the small to the great for the betterment of all.’

Finally she reached the hatch to her personal suite. Tears filled her eyes as she saw the familiar face of Mei Ying waiting for her in her sitting room.

The hatch closed behind her, leaving her in privacy with her cousin.

Never privacy for the Liao, merely the illusion. Such was the cost of rulership.

“Biǎo jiě!” Ilsa exclaimed joyfully as she hurried over to the older woman. “This is most unexpected! My body double?”

Ying hugged her ‘little sister’ while the tears began to fall to the azure blue silk carpet with its dancing golden dragons.

“Your body double is touring a recycling center and shall be giving a speech praising the diligence of the workers and staff who collect needed resources for the war effort, Biǎo mèi. It is a good speech if I do say so myself, and should play well on the evening news broadcasts across the Confederation. Then tomorrow as we travel to Sian, she shall be touring the military hospitals.” Ying drew back to stare into Ilsa’s eyes as her voice sharpened in repudiation. “Which you nearly became a permanent resident of! Or worse!’

Ilsa winced at the sudden change of tone. Dreading what was to come she tried to cut it off at the pass, “Ying…”

“Don’t you DARE ‘Ying’ me, Ilsa!” Ying snapped out, interrupting Ilsa before she could come up with any excuses. “I saw the footage from Irian III! One of the cameras transmitting from the spaceport showed how badly your Mech was damaged, and the request for the parts needed to repair ‘Captain Zhao’s’ Thunderbolt crossed my desk! I trusted you to not take reckless decisions in my absence!” Ying’s voice broke at the end as her tears fell. “I nearly lost you!!”

Ilsa blushed and rubbed her bandaged arm. “It was necessary…”

“Bié gēn wǒ húchě!!” Ying swore, causing Ilsa to blanch at the gutter Chinese expression. “Yes it was necessary to strike Irian III! Yes, your presence inspires the CCAF to exceptional valor while they fight under the eye of the ‘soldier’s Chancellor’! But what would happen if you had fallen there? What would happen to the State with no Liao of the ruling line save a double dozen distant cousins and the various factions eager to push forward their claimants?”

Ilsa bit her lip in thought. “I… don’t know.” She finally admitted.

Ying’s eyes glared at her kinsman, and then hardened. “I want a Battlemech for the next time you pull a harebrained stunt like this. Keep it off the record so I’m not sent to a frontline post under some nameless bodyguard, but the next damn fool time, I’m going with you!”

Ilsa’s eyes flashed fire as she opened her mouth to defend herself. Then she suddenly remembered the jump infantry on Irian and her mouth closed with a click of teeth. She took a very deep breath and sighed. “I was a rash fool, wasn’t I?”

“Ilsa,” Ying hugged her cousin once more, “I can’t keep you chained to your desk managing the paperwork and I know that you hate the ‘speeches and politics’ part of your role. I hate them too, truth be told. But first ask yourself next time if the risks to the Confederation, to your loved ones, match the possible gains. After all, your knight would be quite upset if his ‘fair Lady Liao’ got her head blown off by some filthy Leaguer before he could joust in your Cinnabar Canyon.”

Ilsa blushed scarlet. “YING!!” She shrieked in embarrassment. “That’s worse than his poetry! Perverted woman!”

“It doesn’t make it untrue, Ilsa.” Ying responded to the spluttering Celestial Wisdom. “I, as your loyal advisor and secretary, have been answering his messages to you and sending back the ones you recorded in advance for him.”

“Wait… Paul sent messages?” Ilsa focused on the key nuggets buried in the statement. “Where are they?!”

Ying grinned. “Eight personal messages are waiting for his ‘fair Lady Liao’ to respond to.” She then sobered. “Reading between the lines of his words, he too has gone forth to lead his troops from the front. I should inquire if his minders wish a case of plum brandy to assist with the headaches of trying to manage a wild stallion to go along with a certain wild tigress of mine.”

Ilsa sighed. “I should be insulted but… I can be a bit reckless and impulsive, I suppose.”

“Just a bit, yes.” Ying agreed as they reached the waiting desk. “Also, as per the Maskirovka’s reports, the AFFS is fully committed to fighting the DCMS, and has in fact started a major counteroffensive. We have identified elements of the Syrtis Fusiliers brigade on Waycross, Edwards, Versailles, and Tiskilwa.” A star map sprang to life showing the AFFS advances into the flank of the captured space.

Ilsa examined the map carefully, scrutinizing the gains marked according to the Maskirovka’s latest reports. Her face twisted in a thoughtful frown. “It looks like he is trying to isolate and pocket the Combine spearhead threatening New Avalon.” Her finger traced an arc behind the half-dozen star systems nearest to the capital world of the Suns. “That explains the strikes toward Markesan and Lexington. But the other out of Chesterton… what’s that goal?”

Ying pointed at one planet near the ones that had just fallen along the pre-war Capellan border. “He did say that it was a moral imperative for his people to liberate Kentares IV, Ilsa. The necessities of victories and politics. You’ll need to be aware of that aspect of things when you meet him on Chesterton to sign the peace treaty. He is limited by the realities of his position just as you are by the Prefectorate and House of Scions. Even his successes come with obligations and promises.”

Ilsa nodded slowly. “Yes, that is true. Just as I must continue to placate the Teng and the Hargreaves over Saint Ives and Chesterton in my turn.” She tapped Kentares IV with one finger. “It is a moral imperative for all civilized people to fight back against barbarism, even if many can be too shortsighted to see the danger to us all. I just wish….” She trailed off.

“Wish for what, Ilsa?” Ying said as she began to give her ruler, cousin, and friend a shoulder massage.

“I wish that we had the strength free to assist the Suns in putting down that Rìběn gǒu barbarian. Past what little we can do by raiding out of our ex-Hegemony worlds to strike the ‘Dragon’ between Tikonov and Terra. Sadly, we don’t have the frontage or basing, much less the men, Mechs, and supplies to do more. “ Ilsa admitted with a sigh. “All the troops from the Suns border will be needed for Operation Shǔ. What are the current reports from the League and our planned troop movements?”

The star map shifted and whirled to the cool jade-green and hateful dark purple of the League/Confederation border. As Ilsa watched, unit identifiers began to flow from Ares, Lee, Redfield, Saint Ives, Warlock, Victoria, Zanzibar, and Grand Base to gather at Shiro III while suspected and reported FWLM forces had began to shift from the border nearby toward the ravaged Irian system.

Ilsa looked up at Ying and matching smiles blossomed on their faces. Ilsa took a deep breath. “Once this is confirmed, we shall give the orders to move and strike.” She looked into Ying’s eyes. “I... shall order Senior Colonel Quinn to lead the assault this time rather than act personally. As you said, my place is on Sian now when I give the orders to move our troops and then begin the attack.”

Her finger touched Shiro III and then slashed to the purple star burning one jump away.

Andurien.

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ComStar Headquarters, Hilton Head, Terra

9 February 2798

“Conrad, do you have a moment?”

“Of course, Jerome.” The younger man fell in beside the elder as they walked to his office. “What’s on your mind?”

The door closed behind them and a variety of sophisticated anti-surveillance measures were turned on. “I need your read on the Liao/Davion dynamic, Conrad. Show me what you learned while reading people as a black marketer under the Amaris occupation”

Conrad Toyama, Precentor Dieron, took a seat and looked at his friend and mentor. “It looks like our best chance yet to restore the Star League. I remember that the initial basis was a triple mutual defensive alliance between Ian Cameron, Albert Marik, and Terrence Liao to settle the status of Andurien. But it relies a lot on two young rulers who have fallen for each other.”

Jerome Blake gave a dubious look. “You really think so?”

“Jerome, I know so. I didn’t have it nearly so bad when I wanted to get my hands on Melissa Ishikawa’s tits in high school as Paul Davion has it for Ilsa Liao’s tits. As I have told you repeatedly after watching those video messages -- it’s like high school prom night drama all over again. So what brought this on?”

“Irian.” Jerome Blake said. “Watch what Michelle’s people retrieved now that we cracked the League’s codes again.”

He pressed a button and the two men watched the recording of Kenyon Marik’s real-time communication with Thaddeus Marik. “Marik’s going to attack the Steiners, which provides Liao a chance to show that the alliance that she’s negotiating works to her people and her skeptics. If she can push the League back to around the prewar borders while they’re distracted with the Lyrans….”

Toyama nodded and pondered the elements of the situation. “I think I see where you are going with this. If you combine the political fallout from such victories with the FWLM weakness and factor in the DCMS supply difficulties that we subtly influenced by corrupting their communications. Then add in Mordiki’s brainstorm to transmit the footage leaked to him by the Drac soldiers disgusted with what they were doing on Kentares and suddenly the Combine is weaker than Jinjiro and his generals currently perceive and believe. Victories there will validate Paul’s nonaggression stance toward the Cappies with battlefield victories too that show his policy is the right one. But that brings us back to the central question. Once they have those victories under their belt and have the ability to look outward rather than fight for survival, will they turn on each other?”

Blake sighed deeply. “That’s the trillion C-Bill question, honestly. That’s why I had you do a review of all their personal correspondence. I know I’m not the people person that you are, Conrad. Do you think that they will fight?”

Toyama shook his head. “Doubtful. But check me, Jerome, the Cappies didn’t use WMDs on Irian, did they?”

“No, it was a completely clean strike under the Ares Convention. Even the spaceport blast, which created a mushroom cloud and was initially reported as nuclear turned out to be a fuel-air explosion. Beat the hell out of the military industries there, but they’re somewhat repairable. Minimal civilian infrastructure damage. I wish everyone did that, to be honest.” Blake admitted. “It would make our goal of preserving human civilization a lot easier.”

“No arguments here,” Toyama agreed as he leaned back in his chair. “But take it from someone who was a salesman for a living before Amaris, you find out what a person’s really about when it comes time to close the deal. All the charm, banter and diplomacy in the world falls away when the big money’s on the line and you have to put up or shut up. “ He held up his right hand

“On one hand, let’s take Ilsa Liao. She stuck to her stated intentions to fight under the Ares Conventions when she could have done far worse to Irian and gotten lauded for it by everyone not a Marik.” Toyama leaned forward. “I believe that Ilsa Liao is legitimately determined to fight a civilized war no matter what. She hates the Mariks for killing her parents and they are the big threat to her nation currently, therefore she won’t turn on the Suns unless her hand is forced by events.”

He held up his left hand, “As for Paul Davion, he wants to tap that Cappie ass so hard it hurts. He knows that fucking her over now will wreck the Suns and not incidentally his chances with her. Plus he hates the Dracs over Kentares and his father’s death.”

Blake shook his head at the locker room talk but didn’t disregard the underlying message. “So, what’s the next step?” He said, trying to get the conversation back to comfortable terms to ground out a possible plan of action. He needed options on top of the analysis of their characters.

“Keep subtly hampering the ISF, O5P, and SAFE’s efforts against them while giving the Maskirovka, DMI, and that new intel agency Davion’s putting together some subtle help behind the scenes. Once they get together if and when the treaty is signed, then we can play the politics game. Start making public noises about our relief that the worst of the war seems to be winding down there.” Toyama shrugged as he finished. “All the while we keep passing her that barftastic poetry of his. She hasn’t ordered a hit on him for it, so she must have terrible taste too.”

Blake laughed. “Right, right. Young love is a wonderful thing for us old scheming farts. So we keep nurturing this and hope that it develops into something greater. So, since I have you available to keep an eye on this and the Liao situation seems to be on track, let’s look at our quarterly budget numbers so we can see about ramrodding these HPG network expansion figures through the First Circuit tomorrow.”

“Sure, just let me borrow some of Michelle’s analysts to read through their mail to each other, otherwise I might get diabetes.”

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Maria’s Elegy, Hesperus II, Isle of Skye, Lyran Commonwealth

9 April 2798

A lone bugle ‘retreat’ call sounded through the sulfurous air.

A tradition stretching back over a thousand years by the most recent arrival on this planet.

In front of the headquarters for the newest regiments that had been sent to reinforce the normal garrison of the Fifteenth and Seventeenth Lyran Guards, a pair of flagpoles stood.

Unlike the other LCAF units who were assembling to do battle across the war-torn mountains and valleys of Hesperus II -- who displayed their own national and regimental flags proudly -- this national flagpole was bare, waiting for the banner of the Star League to be hoisted once more.

On the other flagpole, at half-mast in the traditional sign of morning a gold flag containing a black horse prancing flew.

To those who knew their military history, this insignia was unmistakable as the sign of one of the most storied and elite regiments of the now-vanished Star League Defense Force.

The former Third Regimental Combat Team of the Ninth Corps, specializing in raiding, ambush, reconnaissance, and hit-and-run attacks unlike the rest of the more ponderous LCAF.

They were now more commonly known by the nickname that they had earned in battle with the Draconis Combine during the Third Hidden War.

The Eridani Light Horse.

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Author’s Note: To fill folks in, Bié gēn wǒ húchě literally is ‘don’t give me your bullshit!’. Ying was pissed.

Lǎo ye is paternal grandmother. Also Rìběn gǒu Is a very insulting racial term used in Chinese for Japanese (mainly thanks to the strained history the two countries have had, see Nanking, Rape of).

Also Ilsa's planning session takes place BEFORE Kenyon Marik's death.