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Faction Roleplaying Thread

December 23rd, 3090
Arluna, MacAuliffe Ranch

The ranch was quite a sight this time of year, with strings of colored lights hanging from every corner it seemed. The fact that armed men ringed the perimiter of the property didn't seem to bother any of the assembled guests, and the alcohol was flowing a bit freely. The Archduchess had spared no expense in setting up the little get together, but then she hadn't entertained guests from so far away before, and wished to make a good impression.

A small group of men in immaculate white uniforms stood laughing and drinking with men whose dress, while clean, was less fashionable but more functional. It amused John to think that he himself might be taken for a fancy parade-ground soldier in his perfectly clean uniform, when compared to the ready-to-fight garb worn by these UIW Marines. However, nobody that had seen the wargame ealier would fault John or his unit's fighting acumen. Having arrived nearly 2 weeks ago for an extended meet-and-greet and wargame, the 2nd NAIS and 1st Davion Guards RCTs had acquitted themselves well against the generally lighter-equipped UIW formations. The true challenge for the Guards had come in the form of a Clan Jade Falcon Galaxy, under the personal command of their Khan, Brian Pryde. Many among the UIW had seen Brian Pryde's leadership firsthand, and it was quite a shock when the Khan had been forced to admit defeat earlier today.

John decided he should introduce himself, and after grabbing a stiff drink from a passing waiter, he smiled at the young woman on his arm, the two walking towards the gathering of officers. He hadn't seen her at first, but standing and listening to the military men talk was the Archduchess herself. John's adjutant, Major Wilhelm Drake, made the introductions.

"Archduchess, may I present Field Marshal John Christian Falkenberg, aide to the First Prince, and commander of the Davion Brigade of Guards. John, this is Archduchess Debrah MacAuliffe." Drake was from a family that boasted a strong, ancient line of nobility, and thus was the perfect man to make flourishing introductions. However, both John and Debbie Mac were from lower origins, and in a more familiar hello to both, clinked glasses and drained the firey scotch whiskey, a gift so it was said, from Archon Robert himself. Introductions finished, the conversation immediatly surrounding the stateswoman and the general resumed its low, but merry, hum.

"Archduchess, I thank you for the hospitality you and the UIW have shown to my men. I must confess, I wasn't quite expecting a newly formed nation to be as stable as the UIW seems to be." Considering the abundant sources of nuclear power, agriculturale strength from the convict-ships of the Clans, and the massive infrastructure investments of the Jade Falcons, the UIW boasted a quality of life on part with many important Inner Sphere worlds, although it was still considered something of a backwater when not in the immediate vicinity of a major city. John had grown up on New Syrtis, and was accustomed to both the bustle of city life, and the openness of the countryside. He found it almost as good as home, despite being nearly 1000 lightyears away from home.

Before Debbie could respond, a new figure joined the two, though despite his military uniform it was obvious he was no longer a soldier. Victor Steiner-Davion did his best to stand tall, but the assassination attempt years ago had left him weak. He still used the cherrywood cane that his sister had had custom made for him, and he still radiated a strength bourne of determination, but he was not the same man he had been before. He smiled at Debbie and John as one of his aides, a young Subaltern whose name John couldn't remember, brought him a glass of water.

"I too must extend my thanks Archduchess, for recieving us so gracefully. Your Union was lucky it had you around when the Commonwealth collapsed on itself."

Quote from: Daemonknight on May 17, 2011, 01:35:10 AM
December 23rd, 3090
Arluna, MacAuliffe Ranch

The ranch was quite a sight this time of year, with strings of colored lights hanging from every corner it seemed. The fact that armed men ringed the perimiter of the property didn't seem to bother any of the assembled guests, and the alcohol was flowing a bit freely. The Archduchess had spared no expense in setting up the little get together, but then she hadn't entertained guests from so far away before, and wished to make a good impression.

A small group of men in immaculate white uniforms stood laughing and drinking with men whose dress, while clean, was less fashionable but more functional. It amused John to think that he himself might be taken for a fancy parade-ground soldier in his perfectly clean uniform, when compared to the ready-to-fight garb worn by these UIW Marines. However, nobody that had seen the wargame ealier would fault John or his unit's fighting acumen. Having arrived nearly 2 weeks ago for an extended meet-and-greet and wargame, the 2nd NAIS and 1st Davion Guards RCTs had acquitted themselves well against the generally lighter-equipped UIW formations. The true challenge for the Guards had come in the form of a Clan Jade Falcon Galaxy, under the personal command of their Khan, Brian Pryde. Many among the UIW had seen Brian Pryde's leadership firsthand, and it was quite a shock when the Khan had been forced to admit defeat earlier today.

John decided he should introduce himself, and after grabbing a stiff drink from a passing waiter, he smiled at the young woman on his arm, the two walking towards the gathering of officers. He hadn't seen her at first, but standing and listening to the military men talk was the Archduchess herself. John's adjutant, Major Wilhelm Drake, made the introductions.

"Archduchess, may I present Field Marshal John Christian Falkenberg, aide to the First Prince, and commander of the Davion Brigade of Guards. John, this is Archduchess Debrah MacAuliffe." Drake was from a family that boasted a strong, ancient line of nobility, and thus was the perfect man to make flourishing introductions. However, both John and Debbie Mac were from lower origins, and in a more familiar hello to both, clinked glasses and drained the firey scotch whiskey, a gift so it was said, from Archon Robert himself. Introductions finished, the conversation immediatly surrounding the stateswoman and the general resumed its low, but merry, hum.

"Archduchess, I thank you for the hospitality you and the UIW have shown to my men. I must confess, I wasn't quite expecting a newly formed nation to be as stable as the UIW seems to be." Considering the abundant sources of nuclear power, agriculturale strength from the convict-ships of the Clans, and the massive infrastructure investments of the Jade Falcons, the UIW boasted a quality of life on part with many important Inner Sphere worlds, although it was still considered something of a backwater when not in the immediate vicinity of a major city. John had grown up on New Syrtis, and was accustomed to both the bustle of city life, and the openness of the countryside. He found it almost as good as home, despite being nearly 1000 lightyears away from home.

Before Debbie could respond, a new figure joined the two, though despite his military uniform it was obvious he was no longer a soldier. Victor Steiner-Davion did his best to stand tall, but the assassination attempt years ago had left him weak. He still used the cherrywood cane that his sister had had custom made for him, and he still radiated a strength bourne of determination, but he was not the same man he had been before. He smiled at Debbie and John as one of his aides, a young Subaltern whose name John couldn't remember, brought him a glass of water.

"I too must extend my thanks Archduchess, for recieving us so gracefully. Your Union was lucky it had you around when the Commonwealth collapsed on itself."

"I can't say whether we were all that lucky." Debbie said, "But I'll accept your compliment-it couldn't hurt in the elections this year." she added with a decidedly impish smile.    A woman too young for the Leutenant's bars she was wearing on her Naval uniform walked up to the gathering. 

"Prince Victor, this is Duchess Amanda Ngo of Kowloon." Debbie said, "But for now, she is Leutenant Ngo, and Ah have to ask, Leutenant, wheah is your Captain?"

Amanda stopped exactly twelve feet from the Archduchess, snapped to a position of Attention, and saluted, "Your Grace, Admiral Collins sends his regrets and has instructed me to inform you that Fleet Operations can not be suspended currently due to an unforeseen issue with the Resupply cargoes slotted for High Road Two, and he can not be in attendance, Ma'am."  she said it crisply.

"Now, Leutenant, what did he really say?" Debra asked.

"Ma'am, I am under strict orders-" Amanda began.

"I out rank the Admiral, Leutenant." Debra said coldly.

"Very well, He said something about foreign princes and Diplomatic receptions, also something to the effect of wasted time, right before he started shouting about a...congressionally connected crooked contractor, sub-standard rations, and a word or two about five hundered kilo guided bombs and a corporate office."  Amanda recited, "I hesitate to use the Admiral's exact phrasing, as there are Gentlemen present."

John chuckled softly.

"Have we fallen that low Major? We're 'Gentlemen' now?" Major Drake grinned.

"Speak for yourself John. Not all of us enjoÿ being disreputable like you." Victor shook his head fondly, giving the appearance of a man whose heard this before. He fixed the young lieutenant with a fatherly smile.

"Come lieutenant, we can bear your Admiral's words."

Amanda closed her eyes for a moment, and drew in a breath, before answering the Prince's request.

When she opened her eyes, it was as if she were in a trance, and her voice as she spoke was deeper...

". Fi m mo yn cerdded. Ddeudi 'u a yn boddhau celwydda , Ca an assfucking chruglwytha chan gweithia 'ma at gwna , ddiolch at a ab chan ast Caldwell's 'n lleuog nai - Fi 'n sylweddol ddylu danfon dunnell chan 'n amrwd cacha goblygedig am chwpl chan bum hundered kilo bomiau - hwy re 'n ddiweddar ag 'r shipments , a hanner 'r da ydy eisoes chwech fisoedd heibio i ddyled amsera."   the imitation was so perfect that she even managed to mimic the slack-muscles around Collins' useless left eye-and his expressions, " Fel , cei 'ch 'n ddedwydd hychydig asen i lawr 'na a gwisga t embarass 'm i mewn gwynebu chan 'r dramorwyr amdani gras s Diplomatic chroesawiad , Ca 'n weithredol GWEITHIA at gwna."

And with that, Amanda's little act ended quite abruptly, "Word for word, Lord Victor."  she said, "Mind that it's in welsh-we've been doing work-ups with 1st Brigade of the 2nd Division all month, it takes the Admiral a while to kettle down from his native language back to english, and he still can't pronounce anything in Viet worth a damn."

Some of the nearby senior Marines gave a mild applause at Amanda's little act.

"Funny, I didn't realize mocking senior officers was common." someone commented.

"It isn't, at least, dirtside, but this is..." Amanda paused to find the words, "...informal?  I had the officer's mess on the Bunker Hill, including Admiral Collins, in stitches during Fleetex '90.  He makes me pull the act at least once every deployment." she snorted, "says it's lucky."

Deb just looked thoughtful, and asked, "Leutenant, how is this going to impact REAPR '91?"

Amanda's bearing returned, "No more than a two or three month delay for the main body, the advance units are already driving to the go-points." she reported, "I assume the Archduchess has briefed her guests, I would NOT like to think I just violated OPSEC on REAPR '91, Ma'am."

"I was preparing to announce it later this evening, Leutenant." Deb told her, "no...'Opseck'? has been violated, why don't you go ahead and do that for me, since the Admiral is unavailable."

Amanda licked her lips, and suppressed a sigh.  "Aye aye.  The Regional Exploration and Anti-Piracy Reconaissance  exercise is our attempt to put forward a lasting solution to the periodic raids generated in the deep periphery by self-styled 'bandit kings'.  The idea is to convince them that they stand to lose more by raiding, than they do by pursuing peaceful trade and development-basically, we send out recon task groups to locate the worlds they're holing up on, those groups in turn call in the reaction fleet, the fleet arrives, shows off a bit, hammers the dumb ones flat, we then 'negotiate' with whoever survives the bombardment, secure a deal with the smart ones who're not too dumb to talk, and eradicate the stubborn ones that insist they can take a Naval Task Group supporting a Marine Brigade's worth of ground forces.  REAPR '89 netted us the occupation of Dirtside, which is now the home system for High Road Two-an advance fleet base tasked with zone-control and anti-piracy operations-I was THE gunnery officer on one of our assault droppers during REAPR '89.  This time, I'll be pulling Staffer as part of the log team."

isle de los Santos, Arluna...

The razorback was a full half metric tonne, as it trotted around the rusted hulks of long-abandoned motorcars in the railyard.

It wasn't El Jefe, but then, thanks in part to the constant hunting, few razorbacks were these days.  This one was fairly young-its tusks only half a meter or so long, its bulk about that of a Beefalo Steer-small for the species.

De Los Santos was now owned by the Ortega family, and it, unlike their mainland holdings, would never be resettled-it was Miranda Ortega dos Everglades personal hunting ground-a place to slake her bottomless thirst for the adrenaline of the hunt. 

a place free of the hand of man-or at least, as much as anywhere in the southern hemisphere could be.

The Razorback stopped, snuffing the air, and let peal a roar of challenge as it caught her man-scent, and the smell of the spear.

Guns just weren't enough, anymore.

She'd become entirely too good at this for the impersonal thunder, only the shock, the feeling of hot breath and the stink of rage and fear could do it-could give her what she needed.

The Razorback seemed to sense this as it began its trotting approach-it hesitated.

It stopped, staring at her with too-intelligent piggy eyes, and her scars tingled.

at ten meters, the Razorback did what she could not have ever dreamt possible.

It rolled over in submission.

Miranda understood... it was time to leave.  Time to find new prey.

she walked to the prone animal, and touched it with the tip of her spear.  it shuddered.

"you will live." she told it.

After the Razorback got up, and trotted away, back into the deserted old, former town site, she sat on a flatbed railcar.

"What now?" she asked the empty yard. 

there was no answer here.

Vanh Ranch, Kowloon...

"welcome home."  Eddie looked at the house, the overgrown yard,  and mused at how the years had not been particularly kind to the old house.  my house now.  he stopped the car beside the porch.

"This is it?" his wife asked.  "It looks like it's been left to rot."

"This is it." he told her, "After mom died, dad just kind of stayed up in Nha Tranh, doing the whole government thing-I think he stopped paying the Morrisons to look after it sometime in '85 or '86, and my brothers pretty much never wanted to come back."

Gloria Neiderhausen Vanh looked at her husband, "Base housing was cleaner." she said.

"Yeah...well, I'm retired now." Eddie told her, shutting the car off, "And the will gave me the deed to the property."

"How much again?" she asked.

"Fifty Kilometers Square for the main ranch, another two hundered in the foothills." he told her.

"my god, that's...that's bigger than the barony back home." she said.

"yeah, but Baron Hochwalter's property was developed land, this is a ranch-there's arable land on it, but most of it's just about barely fit for running cattle." He said, "No tenants paying rents.  Basically a big farm...never a real profitable one-the land's too poor and there's not enough water to fix that."

"We drove three hours from town..." she said.

"yep."  He opened the car door, "Let's look at how bad it got, I think the solar cells are still in good shape if they weren't stolen or broken, and the well's a deep one, good quality aquifer..."

They got out, and he tried the key in the front door.  It rattled the lock open-but stiffly, the tumblers hadn't been worked for years.

"You lived like this?" his wife asked, looking at the covered furniture, the multifuel central heating-stove, and the old, three-prong electrical outlets.

"yeah."  he said, "we did, no holo, no telnet, just a phone and a radio."

"I've seen Periph worlds with this kind of..." she stopped, and looked at one of the faded photographs on the mantel.  "you look like him." she said, "When he was young..."

"that's not dad, dad's the guy on the right-that's my older brother John." Eddie told her, "He died on Somerset in '67, his platoon was greased during the landing."

"Oh." she ran her fingers along the faces, "Your mom?" she asked.

"Yeah, that's mom...I'm the short kid in the flannel, youngest son." he told her, "Brian's the tall one-he didn't come back from Solaris in '69."

"um...interesting day of the dead statue..." she said, gesturing at a form to the left of the parents.

"No, that's Aunt Evelyn-I mean, General Mosovich, before she got reconstructive surgery-while she was on patient status." Eddie informed her, "I guess that pic's from around '60."

"You don't know?" she asked.

he shrugged, "it was a long time ago, I say around sixty because that's the last year we were all together, Mom wouldn't have left an earlier one, and she wouldn't replace a family photo unless she had everyone here."

She moved down the row, to an image of grinning teenagers in green uniforms with numbers.  "what's this?" she asked.

"Me, Bianh, Lenny, Truk, and Sophie-championships in '68, we were unstoppable in the Game." he said, "We took second continent wide, and first in the Junior Divisions, record time for a Junior team, too-four minutes, fifteen seconds on the Maze course, Ninety seven scored as kills, forty scored mission-kills in the timed event,  and nineteen team wins in player on player in the Tower complex event, fourteen hostages scored as saved with only one injury...and the only reason we didn't get first is because Truk got real-world hamstrung by a cheater with an edged knife."

"What happened to the cheater?" she asked.

"Lenny broke his spine in three places, reversed his right knee hard enough to tear ligaments and spill blood, and made his right arm about half a meter shorter-if Bianh hadn't been the team medic, he'd have probably died." Eddie said, "Bianh was on AR in Second Brigade when they found the camps.  She committed suicide in '79 while she was in rehab for a Bluezine addiction she picked up as a result of...what she saw."

"oh...so she's always been The Grizzly." Gloria observed, "Even as a young girl..."

"Speaking of The Grizzly..." Eddie said, as the sound of another engine rumbled through the open door, "I do believe my second wife, and the kids are arriving."

"Why did you two divorce?" Gloria asked, "you're still so close I'm sometimes jealous."

"She wanted to stay Force Recon, I was ready to get out." Eddie said, "There weren't a lot of...'couple's missions' in the eighties, and it was always kind of awkward for her when we had to be social...besides, given how you two carry on, maybe I should be jealous."

"We could always make it a legal triple..." She told him.

"yeah...right...so I could have two women mad at me for no reason, one of which can still break me like a twig in her right hand?" Eddie asked, "Sorry, I'm not young enough anymore to think that is a good idea."

The abandoned feeling of the old home began to evaporate as the sounds of children filled the air, and Lenore..."Lenny", "The Grizzly" Dao strode in, two sqirming eight year old girls carried in her arms like groceries.  All three were grinning like idiots.

"Needs a dusting." Lenny said, putting her charges down to scamper through the house like curious children do.

"and a mop." Gloria agreed, "HE needs the mop-bucket... on his head.  Mister somber-pants here has been in a maudlin mood ever since the funeral."

at this, the huge woman laughed, "Junior there just needs a good drink."

"Did Sophie come up?" Eddie asked.

"Your first wife is still busy-there were a thousand and one details to deal with after your Father so inconveniently decided to depart the mortal coil in the middle of his term." Lenny said, "If you had anything to say to her, you should've said it when we were in Nha Tranh, it's too late right now-she's probably too busy, and until you get a better Hamset or a decent Telnet Link in, you can't anyway, so you'll just have to deal with us, minus my sister's calming influence."  She grinned wider, "Deal with it, Gunny-and in the meantime, there are groceries to un-load, and I want to talk to my...fellow and current sufferer of Eddie Vanh's dull depressions without interruption."

"Girl stuff, love." Gloria said, "Get moving, you're retired, not dead."

"Yes...dear..."  he headed back out the front door.

High Road 2, 11/01/3091

They call them 'trash haulers' for a reason.  Strike Marines in-transit, in spite of strict limits on personal baggage, still generate a hell of a lot of garbage.  Marine Captain Joshua W. Ngo noted this as he made his way down the bunkway to his sea-cabin.  Shipside, the men of Golf Company, 2nd Battalion 3rd Brigade UIW Marine Corps wore emergency 'skinsuits' like the crew wore, with the pressure-hoods folded for fast, hands-free release.  Unlike the crew, however, these ground-pounding marines did NOT carry a separate, neck-ring hardshell helmet, or wear the heavily insulated light armor coveralls meant for crawling among damaged hull areas in hard vacuum-in the event of a ship-to-ship fight, the troop bays would be locked down, and the men would be kept out of the way.

"Sir, is it true?" one of the men, a lance-corporal on his first overseas tour, asked.

"What true, Mulvaney?" Joshua replied, stopping his drift to his cabin with one hand.

"Is it true we're going to Caldarium, Sir?"  Mulvaney asked.

"Yes, yes it is." Ngo told him, "Contract got renewed, with a Cadre clause-we're picking up the LAAF representative and Liason officers on the way in-they're expressing them over on the Alarion..."

"So...we're gonna be training 'em-to our standards, or Lyran standards?" one of the others asked.

"Ours."  Joshua told them, "Which means we're also loading up on D-rounds, extra blood bags, and 'training aids'-Your NCO's will have the details when we reach the system, which won't be before the Seventeenth of next month-we're supposed to assume a defensive posture on the planet, then, there'll be a couple shipments of gear, which we're going to have to train the locals in how to use...effectively.  Assuming that the neighbours leave the system alone, we're looking at six months minimum to train slightly less than a Brigade to use Battlesuits, air-support, conduct artillery and mine warfare, and integrated fast-response mechanized warfare."

"They...bought the WHOLE PACKAGE?"  Sargeant Trang's voice came from a covered bunk, followed by the Squad Leader's face, "Sir? the lyrans bought a FULL RIDE?"

"Looks like it." Joshua said, "hardware and training, training to UMC standards, and a free hand in training methodology-hell, even the Free Worlders tried to limit psyche casualties when we were training their 'skye provincial rangers', Robert wants us to make him some Những đồ quỷ dữ ."

Congress Building, Grantsville, Arluna, Union of Independent Worlds....

"...might remind the Committee that our largest trading partner, and our third largest trading partner, are currently beating the ever-loving shit out of each other, while our second largest export market is currently ripping their own guts out in a civil war."  Congressman Moshe Kohn (Free Skies Party, Kowloon) was on a roll tonight, "Sooner or later, one, some, or all three of them is going to want our involvement on their side-tht is, sooner or later, either the Adders, or the Lyrans, or the Free Worlders, are going to insist we actually take a side in their conflicts.  It might be a really good idea to prepare against the eventuality that, well...someone is going to take offense, even if we refuse to side with anyone."

"We aren't that important."  Congressman Juliana Perez (Labour Party, Winter) spoke up, "Seriously-we aren't."  she said, "Nine small sectors, we've got two space stations, a decent navy in terms of skill, but nothing for size, a skilled but small military that historically takes mercenary missions to keep the national books balanced-we don't even have a fraction of the economy or military force we'd need for anyone...and i do mean anyone in reach of our borders to care about what side we might eventually take.  Hell, the Adders barely talk to us, and the Cats have ignored our existence-probably to our benefit, since our entire naval force is about the size of a single Clan Naval Star.  Taking sides attracts attention-maybe we should consider NOT attracting attention."

"Like the Marians?" Cohn countered, "No doubt their policy of letting sleeping dogs lie is doing them a galaxy of good, considering that last word has it Alphard's under blockade, with the 'Star League' doing their famous three-monkeys routine as a response.  WE need to be pulling forces back into our holdings, and building up, because eventually, we ARE going to be attacked-it could be whoever wins, or whoever loses in the Lyran-Adder fight, it could be the Cats, it could be another Clan coming in from the Homeworlds, it could even be radical elements of the Free Worlds, looking to drag us into their conflict, or use us as a bolt-hole when they lose....hell, it could be that bunch from the Terrans that went rogue.  The military budget needs additional spending!" Cohn insisted, "We need more forces to defend ourselves from a galaxy that is going mad again."

"You're an idiot if you think that's going to-"

Terran Consolate, Grantsville, Arluna.


  Colonel Sarah Thiel-Lowell sighed as she read the latest set of orders from her direct superior. Fortunately they would be easy to follow but her status as the SLDF liason for the TH Military Attache would make things interesting. She knew that she would end up making the deal stick so she picked up her comm unit and dialed the number to Admiral Collins.

3091/02/25,0730, Office of the Joint Chiefs of Staff, Rotunda Building, Arluna, UIW[/b]

"It's the Terran Military Attache, sir."  Lt. Amanda Ngo felt she should have been aboard 'her' ship, the Bunker Hill when she left for REAPR '91, instead, with the medical de-certification of Admiral Li, and the promotion of Admiral Collins as CNO, she found herself back in a staff billet-pulling a second tour as Admiral Collins' aide-de-camp.

"Put her through." Mike Collins said, looking up from the day's take of intel analysis and logistical reports. 

"Colonel Thiel, the Admiral."  Amanda said it in business-fashion, and switched the secure-lines over.  Nobody outside the Embassy, or the office of the CNO, would be able to (in theory) decipher the conversation that Amanda Ngo was recording for the analysis of Coast Guard and Naval Intelligence.

"Sarah, it's good to hear from you, how's your father..?"

[continued in PM]

Datasystems project office...

A top-secret project normally (if such a term could be used in the Inner Sphere) in a complex of underground bunkers, surrounded by military security personnel, on land with grim-looking razorwire fencing and "Keep Out" signs backed by motion-triggered weapons emplacements and the occasional, decorative minefield.

They don't normally (if the term could ever apply) exist in a two-story, ordinary brick building belonging to something as mundane as a postal service.

Particularly not research that, if discovered, could get a nation into serious trouble with one or more major allies.

So, naturally, what was going on in the Union Independence Postal office Datasystems Project, could not possibly be a top-secret operation with potentially grim political consequences and a wide variety of military applications.

Sophie smiled to herself as the bus stopped at the decidedly non-imposing, brick and wrought iron gate, and let her (along with forty or fifty other morning commuters coming in to work their dull, Bureaucratic jobs) step off.

She signed "Hello" to Fred Chao, the morning guard, who nodded to her in familiarity.

a whiff of air behind her told her the bus was leaving, as she flashed her badge at the reader, and the green light came on, letting her know she could pass through the turnstile.

Today was a relatively cool February morning-not quite warm enough for short-sleeves in Nha Tranh's late summer, but not quite enough for the light sweater she carried over one arm.

'Professor, you should have signaled for a car.' Fred signed to her, 'someone of your importance riding a public bus...'

she smiled, 'I prefer the bus, it's safe enough, and I can look at all kinds of new people-besides, I can navigate the entire system myself, and I hate trying to communicate with a driver who doesn't understand sign, and can't be distracted with text.  I was messaged that the sample article's here?'

Fred nodded, 'They brought it in last night-pretty chewed up, your assistant was quite put out at the condition.'

She shrugged, 'If anyone from the Department shows up, direct them to Klausten's office, he's got standing orders on how to deal with official visitors, including those that aren't cleared.  I'll be in my lab.'

Sophie Morris-Vanh was born without eardrums, or vocal chords-a rarity in the modern world, even rarer is such a defect allowed to go un-treated.  Her mind,however, was first-rate, a polymath scientific brilliance rarer than the rarest gems.  'Heard from your sister?' Fred asked, escorting her into the building.

'Yes, she's helping my ex-husband move into his family's old place in Vin Drin Lap.  She's thinking about his current wife's offer to make a triple.' she replied.

'A...Triple? I thought Ed was Catholic...' Fred replied.

'He was when WE were married, but you know, divorce...' she added a rueful expression, 'Maybe he's finally coming out of his shell?'

'Only you would call Master Gunny a quiet-case.'  Fred signed.

'i'm told he used to be able to move through any terrain without making a sound.' she shot back, 'Besides, so far as I know, he's still mister white-knight, trying to save the world for all the women and children...' she snorted, 'which is charming when you're eighteen, and irritating as all get-out when you're twenty five...this is my elevator, Fred.'

'My Apologies, Herr Direktor. I will return to my normal duties, then.' he said, but she didn't notice, she'd already turned her eyes away in dismissal.


Well, sometimes one must at least NOD to the classics, the elevator went down to the sub-basement.

She stepped off, and walked into her true laboratory.

Workshelves crammed the garage-like area, filled with tools and items and components of machines dating back to the height of the Star League and beyond.

On a two-meter table, stood the latest acquisition.  It didn't look like much-probably a meter long and a third that tall and wide, and the battered casing was scorched and scarred with age and abandonment.  The lightly-corroded metal casing said "Nimakachi Computers Collective" and "Property of the Star League Defense Force".

various stamped warnings on the casing demanded that it not be opened, that doing so would invalidate various warranties, and that doing so in an unauthorized fashion, would result in 'severe legal consequences'.

Well...let's see how much of you is intact...and whether I was right about how they REALLY made you...

Twelve Days later....

'It's a damaged data-core, an inventory.'  Sophie signed to her visitor from OCB's special branch.

"What kind of inventory-why'd they need something this massive?" he asked.

'The rest of the core's pretty much a copy of the Helm core-no new surprises there, plus some info that jibes with the info we've already salvaged off Point Echo-the rest of the system's too badly damaged to use, but I suspect at the minimum, it's part of the 'take' Amaris looted from the Terran scientific libraries early in his occupation, and at worst case, the Kinsky rumour's true, and the Terries were feeding him data and hardware BEFORE the coup...  The ruins on Dirtside were caused by Orbat, same thing that regressed the population originally.  My guess is that Kerensky ordered the site hammered, then ignored it, given the quality of the materiel we've found thus far.'  she signed to him,  adding, 'It isn't what we hoped, but it is a pointer in the right direction.'

"What do you mean, a 'pointer', Doctor.  I thought-" he began.

'You're having me do a combination of hardware hacking, datastorage reassembly, file salvage, and archaeology-the last bit by proxy, the inventory confirms they took at least ONE of the still-in-construction Reagan Processors, a full-house SYBL unit, and were shipping it to Eagle's Nest in early 2765, along with some prototype energy weapons and assorted Warship-grade avionics packages.  The info I've managed to pull out of the test article on the bench over there, says part of the legend is right-the Terrans were feeding the Rimjobs advanced specifications and hardware, some of it actually reached out this far before the Coup-we just have to find it.'

"What do you need?" the OCB man asked.

'a team, people who can be trusted not to talk, who can be away for long periods without being noticed, and who can identify the kind of artifacts we're looking for.'

Office of the Archduchess, Grantsville, Arluna....

Debra MacAulliffe stared at Dr. Mai Huyn, "You want me to authorize funding for a black programme, based on a shopping list?" she asked.

Dr. Huyn shook her head, "no, an inventory-things either shipped or stolen from the Terran Hegemony during the Amaris Coup-look, it's public knowledge that Amaris forces burned the Smithsonian and the old American Library of Congress, right?"

"Sure, it's in all th' Textbooks...y'all're sayin'...what? thet th' story ain' true?"  Debra asked.

"Partially true-they DID burn the sites, but...do you really think it reasonable that Amaris, a man clever enough to take over a larger, more technologically advanced state, smart enough to force the other Houses to stay out of it-at least publicly, is dumb enough to burn the information those places contained along with the physical structures?  would a Pirate be that stupid?" Huyn asked.

"Prolly not." Deb agreed, "an' Sophie Morris thinks this list she found on a half-slagged datacore from a ruin on a half-dead world, is a clue that he wasn't thet dumb, rahhhht?"

"Inevitably, Your Grace."  Mai said, "She's still not finished piecing together the contents of that core-a core that is significantly different from the physical structure of the famed Helm core, though no less ancient."

"What're we really aftah, Doc?" Deb asked, "Ah know y'all want funding for moah pure research, so whah th' Treasuuah hunt?"

Mai sat cross-legged in her chair, "Let me tell you a story-during the assault on Terra itself-the Liberation...the SLDF fleet came up against a force of some fifty Caspar drone warships, along with proportional complements of drone fighters and reputably, automated dropships-Kerensky lost the bulk of the SLDF fleet to fifty ships, in an era when fifty ships was a slightly overstrength battlegroup...now, admittedly, the sketchy details of the SLDF's assault on the Terran system leave a lot of gaps, and we don't know the actual capability they built into those warships, but they were based on Lola class hulls-like the one we bought used from the Jade Falcons.  Lolas aren't exactly the powerhouse of the fleet, even in their heyday, which means it's rather unlikely that they inflicted those losses with raw firepower, or by weathering lots of hits.  The AI systems had to be some kind of edge-we need an edge, something to balance out against the neighbours, something to make up for not having tens or hundereds of billions of subjects to choose from, or cannisters to breed superwarriors in job lots-if we can reverse-engineer the AI technology used, even in the old Mk 19 Blackwasps, that's a force multiplier, if we could manage to reach the sophistication of the original Nirasaki Computer Collectives' Caspar CPU's, the so-called 'SIBL' or 'SYBL' technologies, we could well have a serious edge if we need it-especially against people who've forgotten the mysterious super-ECM Kerensky claimed enabled him to defeat the original Reagan system at all."

"How close are we?" Debra asked.

"Sophie may have cracked some of the theory-but it's all in the theoretical stages right now.  Minus a major breakthrough, or a sample to reverse engineer, it could take years...even decades, if we have 'em." Mai said, "but the research needs more funding than the little side-budget I put up by shorting paperclips and pens."

"let me think on et." Deb said, "ah'll tellya in a few days, meantime, keep a lid on this, ah doubt owah 'frien's' the Free Worlders, owah ou' Lyran 'friends', not t'mention th' Clannahs, will be all thet keen on havin' us dig up science they abandoned or couldn't make wuhk raht-'membah, nobody lifted a finguh t'save th' Niops folks, an' they were closer than we are t'havin' it."

"What should the Coast Guard head the potential project under?" Mai asked, "Assuming that it gets funded?"

"code it 'Benjamin Breeg'." Debbie said, "Lahk th' folksong. weah resurrectin' somethin' been gone a LONG tahm."

"Aye Aye, your Grace."

Offices of "From the Edge Magazine", a news service based on Jerangle...

"...want me to what?"  Kara "Red" Auburn stared at her Editor,  "what makes you think they'd even grant an interview, Jason?"

Jason Braithewaite pushed aside his dreadlocks, and adjusted his glasses.  "Red, it's news, people are interested, and the Clans are still intersting enough that folks want to hear about 'em."

"Let me get this straight, you sent the new guy, whatsisname, Chandler, to cover the Lyran's war with the Star Adders, but you want me, your senior war correspondent, to go fish for an interview with the now-resigned former Khan of the Spirit Cats, people who still act like we're under quarantine."  she said it with deep, dripping derision, "Jesus, Jason, I knew the old man wanted to cut my contract, but this is absurdity-we don't circulate out there, and they treat our civvie ships like they're carrying the Arluna Plague."

"Not so, nobody's been shot at by them." Braithewaite said, "Look, you're the most experienced Journo I have available, and Fokker's resignation's news-people are going to be REAL interested in it, and it means you're going to be taking an express down toward the big multinational action going on in the Marian Hegemony-you're a smart gal, Red, you can probably swing some serious work in there, and even if they turn you down I think I can swing it with Brandt and Weller to cover your other expenses and maybe pick up any stories you collect on the way..." he paused, "PLEEESE?"

"Alright, I'll try and get an interview." Red said, "when am I leaving?"

"There's a Bluestar Liner departing that way in a few days...thanks red."

Vanh Ranch, Kowloon...

"...Come east, there's four...make it six strays on Traxhall mountain."  The plane was a 'farm rig' J-210, powered by a 3 Liter 'multifuel mutilator'.  Normally used for crop-dusting, the J-210 dated back to pre-spaceflight Terran applications.   Such aircraft were more common up on the Ia Drang plateau, but between cropdusting seasons, the little flyers were often for rent to the lowland ranches.  (everything not on the Plateau qualifies as 'lowland'-at least, by some standards...)

Teng Maus was doing his last summer of freedom before his Enlistment would begin.

"Copy that, Little Bird, how many kliks out from the herd?"  Old man Vanh (not really that old, but every boss is "the Old Man" unless they were a lady...) replied over the channel.

"Fifteen Kays from your position, I'll make a couple scare-passes to head 'em off."  Teng offered.

"Negative, just keep an eye on 'em.  Do you see Predator sign yet?"  Vanh replied.

Teng dropped another hundered meters, skimming scrub trees and strained his eyes.

"Affirmative, I've got a pack of canines about nine kilometers south of the strays, looks like big Timberwolves, over."  Teng answered.

"NOW you can scare the animals-make the Wolves not want to come North, would you?"

"Roger that."  Teng clawed up some extra altitude, and came down over the pack of wolves, dropping "Poppers" in front of them and slightly to the North, the pack of predators broke from a formation-lope to a frantic dispersal.

too bad we can't shoot them... he mused.  Earthlife predators were protected on Kowloon, since they tended to crowd out more dangerous native predators.

So, all he had were whistlers and Poppers.

"Little Bird, this is the boss, just got a message in, I need you back at the field shack ASAP, Over."

Teng banked the plane, adjusting the fuel mix, and headed back south to the fall encampment.



"...kid's a pretty decent pilot." Eddie Vanh, formerly Master Gunnery Sargeant Vanh, commented as the small, bright-orange plane descended on the dirt strip in front of the winter camp.  "Shame he's been expedited like this."

"Corps has a Need, he's on the list...hell, Gunny, I think they'd even take you back in."  Masterchief Cu'ong of the Coast guard said.  Both men were leaning on Cu'ong's official car, drinking chickory coffee, Vanh's was cut with a local rice wine, but the Master-Chief's had to be black and...unspiked.

"Why'd they send a Coastie?" Eddie asked.

"Levy's on the Local side, Gunny-your boy's just lucky he isn't getting drafted to the Army." Cu'ong told him, "His GT scores, plus the pre-enlistment, means he's technically a 'voluntary', and he's already picked a service."

"What's really going on, Masterchief? They don't pull the Levies unless there's a war on, and I ain't seen shit about no war in the papers."  Vanh reproached the Coastie NCO.

"Re-up, and you'll find out." Cu'ong said, "or you can scan the paperblogs, This ain't goin' to be like hte Lyran war, or like Solaris-the big hats are scared shitless, but they're not telling us a god-damn thing in the Coast Guard, or the Army.  They're just firing off 'greetings from the Congress' letters, and sending guys like me out to collect strays that missed the mail...I can tell you this-they're loading ammo at the Tower, and supply ships have been crowding out civvie traffic both over Kowloon, and in the Belt...food, ammo, uniforms, they're ramping up for something big-whether it's something big coming at us, or not, nobody who knows is saying, and nobody who's saying, knows."

Some time. Arluna.

These were Ezra's last days.

The last straw had been the maneuvers vs. some average UIW troops where his old guard was simply beat down. Of course they had been outnumbered as always, but it seemed their tactics and performance were declining rapidly. And Ezra was now over 75, which was ancient for any Warrior.

He knew that the Clan wished him to stay alive as long as possible, but enough was enough. The Farm put out a good amount of the liquid and it was to his successor to find a solution with Miranda, wherever she would be. He had not heard of her since 20 years and no one seemed to know.

The only thing known was that she had another great estate away from this land and it would probably not be used for much, lest the people could have told him about it.

For the last years, he had improved his forging skills and put together, after many trials, a good spear. He knew how his life should end.

It was stronger then the one he had used so long ago, the shaft was made of almost unbreakable plasteel wrapped in a coat of cloth for better grip. He would need a pistol and his backpack, because if he was to find another hog, he would have to travel quite far as they were seemingly brought close to extinction.

Only few of his staff knew about his plans and could not convince him to stay. Admittedly, being a freeman here, like Miranda was, would make life worthwile, however, he knew only his duties and his time was over. Too many scars and pain all of the time. Perhaps it was the easiest way out, he did not care anymore. He had cared for his Clan for all his life, now he cared only for himself.

A transport stood ready to take him to the south, where there was still much wilderness, despite repeated hunts, so he hoped to have a chance to meet his target.

***

"Fancy meeting you again, Colonel."  The transport was a tiny, turboprop driven STOL plane.  It was almost inevitable who was at the controls.

Laura Gammond had not had her scars fixed,  even the fingers were still missing.  "Strap in, we will be in the air for about nine hours."

"You retired." Ezra observed, "I heard they pulled your flight ticket, too."

"Nobody checks the Registry on Bush-planes, Colonel, and they did not pull my ticket-as for retirement, yes, thanks.  Fifteen years as a Governor of the biggest prison in human space is enough-it is someone ELSE's job to be the Warden now...your people said you wanted to check out Grid 2465 Southeast?"

The plane taxi'd down the narrow road segment.

"Is Miranda here?" he asked, "You are, after all..."

"Nobody has seen Dame Ortega since her boy went off to the Marines." Laura told him, "Doesn't mean she ain't here, but..."

The huge glassine canopy held the world close, even as the little airplane crept above it.

"Bush flying, how is it as a living?" Ezra asked.

"Who said I'm alive?" Laura replied, turning in the seat, and he could see...the shattered cockpit glass, the way that the debris had pulped her head, and the dirt...from the crash-site?

Water dripped onto his face, and he sat up from the jungle floor.  He'd been here for two days.  "Just a dream." Ezra muttered and coughed.  The temp gauge told him his body was running a temperature of 39.66 Degrees Celsius.  Fever dream.  The cuts itched in the damp.

Somewhere in the rainforest, was a grunting horror.  He'd been here, according to his PADD, three days.

"How did you get so old?"  he muttered to himself.

"Yeah, HOW did you get so old, Ezra? You're moving like a six foot bumble-bee."  Miranda seemed to be squatting on a low tree-branch, her funny little spear-the one she'd had when they went after El Jefe, laid across her thighs.  She looked the same as she had twenty years ago, tanned, young, and fit.

"I guess it just...happened."  Ezra said quietly, and she faded, another hallucination, likely caused by the infections.

Slowly he got up. It was time to go hunting. And if he could hear at least, there was something out there. Gripping his spear 'How heavy this is.', and slowly marching on. He grinned wildly as every step put his resolve to a test. If he would not find something to fight soon, he would probably die. Two, three more days. Perhaps a couple more if he was careful. But what was the use of being careful. The feeling of standing against a beast, one on one was seemingly what he longed for since 20 years. The rumours that had spread about Miranda going out hunting Hogs made twisted sense, if she was half the woman she was back then.

Ah, Miranda.

The grunting grew louder, but not much else happened, so he walked on, slowly. He was close, he felt. Most thoughts were now in the back of his head, growing quieter. He gripped his spear with newfound energy and watched intently.

Would his Clan survive this new madness with the Falcons? Who knew, and it was not his problem anymore.

There, another terrible grunt. Was that hog alone? The smell of the air already changed. Adrenaline started  to pump in his veins. Now it was like 20 years ago. His Blade was on his back, the pistol ready and the backpack went to the ground. He nearly prayed to the hog to find him, to have one last stand. One glorious moment.

***

The rainforest felt different-colder now, and a bitter fog seemed to seep at the edges of his vision.  "There is a world within the world...within the worlds."   a shape he mistook for a twisted tree resolved.

It was the skeleton of a Battlemech.  Not a Battlemech, an OMNI-Mech.  It leaned drunkenly against a tree, streaked with corrosion and wrapped in vines, buried up to its knees in loamy earth.

But it could not be-because that 'Mech was back on Hector.  He remembered it there, a ruined sentinel on the training grounds.

There are worlds within worlds, within the worlds.  Where had he heard that? Something stubbed against his toe.

Pike Street NE . It was faded, corroded green plas with white letters, twisted metal of the post, and the forest seemed to form shapes. Shapes not replicated except in pictures of the Amaris War-the 'space needle', statues...wrapped in old, thick moss and undergrowth.  Empty skull eyes stared from overgrown rubble.

It was October, and he'd gone to meet the replacement garrison at the spaceport.  Governor Gammond had been there, and there was an accident...

"I never... made... it... to retirement."  A bubble of blood on her lips, Charlotte screaming orders at stunned port workers, the smell...

The dying woman had gripped his jacket, "There are worlds within worlds...within the world. ask Miranda, she will kn-" She'd died there...

"Woolgathering won't help." the heat washed back over him, and the signs were gone.  Miranda seemed to be standing near a broken tree-trunk.  "Come and see."

The underbrush seemed to open up, as if the world were moving to show him something...

The ruins were burned, and partially eaten by the jungle.

War machines lay shattered in ruins of civilian housing, and the bleached white of bone flashed in the green, leafy dimness, and the fog, that bitter fog, was closer at hand

The corpses...moved, and at the far side of the valley, the mists rolled inward, and he could hear the thunder of cloven hooves, the size of a man's head, coming toward him.

"It's not too late to walk away." Laura's voice hissed in the wind, "Don't let it bite you, it's rabid, and it likes the taste of flesh." Miranda's voice seemed to shake from the leaves and branches.

The mists thickened and it seemed the world grew darker, murkier, as the dead wept and coughed around him, crying for water and begging for relief.

The world within our world, is dying forever.

Death of Adrian, 3091/03/22

Colonel Winslow Donovan squinted as he stepped out of the staff vehicle, and walked, limping, to the gate of the Clan-built command centre.  The facility here had been built to handle and house a great many more troops than the Spirit Cats had actually bothered to station on this world.  "Expect an insurgency, sir?" one of the NCO's with the Infantry Regiment asked.

"Not really." he replied, "The tech people from OSS been through yet?"

"No sir." 

"Let me know when they've done their sweep.  Dios what a clusterfuck this has been, I'd half expect that the Coasties could have taken this whole shithole system without us..."

Government House, Grantsville, Union of Independent Worlds

"...are these reports for Real, Admiral?"  Debbie Mac, clad in a blue chambray workshirt and denim skirt, tossed a stack of PADD files on the desk beside the reader, "You seriously think Ah am gon' believe this shit?"

"Ma'am, first of all, yes, they are real, those are the conditions we've uncovered so far-it's all there, neglected infrastructure, lack of rebuilding, what you might call 'poverty' if you're being generous.  Seems the only areas with modern conveniences were isolated to higher-caste exclusive zones or critical military-linked industries."

She stared at him,  "Admiral, This is...unbelieveable, Ah've been to Sudeten, remember-Ah think ah know what the Clans' standahds are fo' handlin' lowah-Castes."

Admiral Michael Collins ran a hand through his no-longer-red fringe of hair.  "The reports are real." he told her, "The sociological reports are-"

"Disturbing?" Debra interjected, "Awful? Horrifying?" she added.

"Those would fit my thoughts-we're playing up the so-called riot at the Ration Centre and keeping the embeds away from zones where the worst of it is...but sooner or later, they're going to end up on a rotation into those areas."  He said, "unless you decide to restrict press access.  Personally, I think it would be a propoganda bombshell."

"No, Admiral Collins, it would be a Nuclear bomb-especially Engadine."  she told him, "Or Issaba, folks kind of would expect seein' that on a distant, isolated site like Death of Adrian, but those worlds were minimum 25th Century level tech before they were invaded, a regression that hard, especially with a higher-tech site like the Issaba Shipyards, that'd have people looking to expand the conflict.  We're already having quakes in our relations with the Ice Hellions over our involvement in this..."

"What about their attacks on the Jade Falcons?" Collins asked.

"Not a problem for us." Debra said, "Those're internal matters between Clannahs...if the Falcons want our help, they'll call on us, not that they would need it..."

"Not what I mean. Scuttlebutt has it that the Cats and the Hellions are close." he said, "Like you and...Khan Pryde used to be."

"That was personal." Deb said, "unless yo' suggestin' that the Cats 'n the Hellions are sleepin' together en-masse, it ain' got a connection, an' Clannahs don' see sex like we do-it would not stop 'm from beatin' shit outa each-othah if they WERE." she said with a wicked twinkle in her eyes.

Collins laughed, "Point taken, Your Grace.  Leaves a problem though-what do you want to do about the territory we've secured so far?"

"Sit on the reporters, Admiral, filter the news, keep it out of the press how bad things as they were WERE when we found 'em." she said, "Let the Terran newsies or the Lyran Newsies break the story first-Ah don't want to think about the complexity of reintegrating and uplifting that many billion people, or about how far the Kitties will go if they realize how potentially politically dangerous those conditions are on those worlds...meantime, Ah'll send some of these reports to Khan Pryde, maybe one'a his smart-boys can explain what's there, an' why, in a way that does NOT turn this into a war of morality-Moral crusades always end in sufferin' an' horrors, an' craziness-ah do not want that for us."

"Aye-Aye, Your Grace."

...They do not preach that their God will rouse them a
  little before the nuts work loose.
They do not teach that His Pity allows them to drop
  their job when they dam'-well choose...
-Rudyard Kipling, The Sons of Martha

Mainstreet system, Contested zone...

It was a Yardship.  Lt. Commander(brevet) Amanda Ngo stood in the CIC of the former Spirit-Cat vessel.  She couldn't shake the feeling that, somehow, someone in the Navy's chain of command had made a mistake-Admiral Collins had, himself, personally, told her she would never command a fully jump-capable ship, so part of her felt like it had to be less-than real.

"Leutenant Wallace, is the inventory complete?" she asked, "Do we have a timeline for pulling in the yard-structures?"

"We do, ma'am...we can un-deploy in a few weeks."  Wallace was a Rockjack from the Boojum Belt in the Kowloon system-a lifelong spacer, and (at the direction of the Battlegroup Commander) her assigned XO and Navigation officer.

"Get the boys on it-we need to be ready for movement as soon as she's packed, Wallace.  Jones, what about our escorts?"  she turned to the Warrant officer assigned as both Comms, and coordination officer.

"They are supposed to arrive in a few days-we'll have cover until she's ready to go from the Battle Group...do we have a destination yet?" he asked.

"We're taking her back to the UIW, the exact destination's not been decided yet." Amanda told them, "But we ain't staying here."

MacAulliffe Ranch, Arluna...

"Hayseed, you have to be the most gullible head of state ever."  Kelli Fitz, the director of the OSS, was sitting at the kitchen table with a glass of lemonade.

the Archduchess let the insult slide-for now.  "Okay, so who's playing me a fool, then?" she asked.

Kelli ticked off on her fingers, "The Rockjacks, for starters." she said, "But it's Collins who's behind it-he wants you to escalate this, thinks we can win an all-out, probably has that Terrie officer he's liasing with feeding his ego."

"What's the real story?" Deb asked.

"Real story, is that things ARE bad-but they're bad everywhere." Kelli said, "Not as bad as they're claiming, but you gotta understand, it's a zero-sum game.  New Kerensky was a waterless rock, even when the Wolves were running it, they had to ship in water or drive deep wells, and Engadine's got soil and air problems-it was barely habitable under the Elsies, they did a hell of a lot of work just to make it liveable-there's a tradeoff for that kind of expense-they let the un-necessary systems drop a few notches, but they didn't leave those people to rot, and the evidence is how much more liveable both those rocks really are."

"and Issaba?" Debra demanded, "Did he just cook that out of vacuum?"

"Don't confuse twenty years of typical Clanner indoctination with brainwashing in the standard sense." Kelli told her, "Issaba wasn't exactly a 'garden spot' to begin with, and generally it's easier to implement major upgrades when your geology isn't trying to shake everyone's fillings loose every couple months.  Issaba's got a highly reactive crust and two moons, and a population that more or less resembles the Kowloonese without the addiction to violence or the Asian influences-the fact there ain't been a string of mass-executions speaks well of the restraint of the Clan authorities-they've got radical religious sects that pretty much ignored the last thousand years of human progress...and Death of Adrian's been a shit-hole since it was colonized.  Twenty years ago, they had barely half a million people living there, the Cats put that number up by a  thousand percent...it's not great but it's not the horrorshow the reports Collins is forwarding would make it out to be."

"So...my CNO, is lying to me." Debra growled, "That about it?"

"Sounds right." Kelli said, "I'd say it doesn't speak to his motives or his competence, but yeah, he's slanting his reports to create an impression...you wanna replace him?"

"I have to." Debra said, "I can't have senior military personnel telling me lies, or lying to congress, no matter how...'noble' their intentions."

Press Room, Congress Building, Union of Independent Worlds, Grantsville, Arluna, May 2, 3091...

"...Congratulations to the upcoming royal couple, a merger between the Marians and the Lyrans is certainly big news.  We'll see if it is good news,  With any luck, the kids will get on just fine." (http://intelser.org/forums/index.php?topic=2650.15)  Debra put on a smile, and looked straight into the holochannel camera.  "Questions?" she asked.

"Archduchess, does this mean you expect a swift end to the war?"  Simeon Kachukin of Inarcs News Service asked.

"I expect we will find out soon enough."  She answered.

"How is this going to affect your campaign in the next election?" Jennings from Neerabup Broadcast asked, "Do you expect a strong post-war bump?"

"I expect the campaign will go to the best candidate." she answered, adding, "no, I do not expect a poll bump off this."

"Who's going to announce against you?" Leah Garten of Anembo Holovid asked.

"Well...you want predictions? okay...I expect that Admiral Collins is going to toss his hat in, maybe Gerald Schrakenberg too-he's got strong support in the Social Democrat party, and Collins is th' darling of the Belters an' Rockjacks.  Harriet Schoenberg's definitely a bet-her Lyran Reunification movement's got strong numbers, especially with the Expat community and the Royalists, and I figure Amanda Ngo's going to probably-if she decides to run, pick up strong Conservative and Independence party support, she's young, smart, and ambitious, so she's the one to watch in the primaries."  she leaned forward, "as for me, I'm not running-I've had enough with this job, and if nothing else, I think avoiding a Dynasty might be worth steppin' down come January of next year."

"Who's got your support, then?" Beeman Walters, Donegal Broadcasting, shouted his question over the shocked murmurs filling the room.

"I'm not going to name names, but y'all know I'm a Free Market Liberal with a Grange card-so it is not likely I'd throw my support to the Social Democrats or the Royalists."  she said, "we'll see which person is better suited once the campaign starts."

UIS Fateshaper, prepping for movement, Mainstreet, Contested zone

"Lời chào, Joshua. Cái gì là bạn làm ở đây?."  Lt. Commander and Brevet Captain of the Yardship Amanda Ngo demanded.

"Sis, please, offworlders?" Marine Captain Joshua Ngo gestured, including most of the Navy, and captured Clanner, personnel in the bridge area.

"Okay, fine, what in hell are you doing here?" she repeated, in english, "Where is your unit, Marine? and more specifically, what in the hell possessed you to be in the exact same place I am, off-world, who's going to get it if we both get killed?"

Joshua, nearly tall enough to be an Elemental, with a physique to match, planted his feet on the deck, and looked down at his Sister.  "I would ask you the same thing-why did you transfer to a Reserve post, then use your buddies in the CNO's office to get activated and reassigned to a fleet group going into a combat zone? You're supposed to be finishing your Regular tour in a Staff billet-shore duty."  he looked around the cavernous bridge, "Instead, you're taking stupid risks, boarding actions? Really?  At least when I go out on Commando with the Recon boys, I'm properly trained."

She scowled up at him.  "They froze me out, Josh." she said,  "I'm off the Board of Directors, I'm about useless on Kowloon unless there's a sudden need to cut ribbons on another public works project-về nhà ngồi trên mông của tôi là không thể chấp nhận được."

The large man closed his eyes, "What is life without work..." he muttered, "You're not getting back on the board by coming out here to play space-navy."

UIS Bunker Hill, command deck...

"Still waiting on confirmation, but it looks right now like Collins is out of a job."  Rear Admiral Xiaojung "Wendy" Perry crossed her arms, "Which leaves us with no CNO until his replacement's confirmed by Congress-and that, in turn, leaves me as the commander of the entire operation...just in time for unconfirmed reports that the Spirit Cats are pulling out of the Hegemony after getting their tails burned."

"Why unconfirmed? We've gotten both civilian and military feed showing it..." Captain Le Hong Dao of the UIS Lightning Strike asked, pulling a bulb of coffee from the dispenser. "Seems pretty obvious that's what they're up to..."

"Unconfirmed because while the Cats are announcing it, and the Press are announcing it, and even the bloody LYRANS are announcing it, our allies-the guys who sponsored this little trip-haven't confirmed it yet." Perry stated, "Hell, they haven't confirmed it isn't happening either, but we could end up left hanging either way-if we drive on with operations, and they did make a peace down there, that could screw us just as hard as if we refused to move under...other conditions."

"Options then?" Capt. Dao asked.

"Minimize casualties and drive forward with the mission until higher pulls the plug...and hope for the best."

Arluna, Office of the Archduchess

Star Captain Melissa walked into the spartan outer-office and scrunched her nose at the wastefulness of the decor. Why were paintings, books, and all this needed? Was the Archduchess not simply a Khan? Did she require such opulence to operate? Once more, she wondered why the Khan had assigned her this duty. She didn't remember angering, or ever having met the man before. She mentally ran through her codex as she waited, and found she could not find a flaw that warranted such an honorless posting.

The receptionist finally set down the phone and asked what she could do for the Jade Falcon warrior.

"I am here to bring a request before the Archduchess, on behalf of Khan Brian Pryde. It is most urgent."

Quote from: Daemonknight on August 12, 2011, 09:58:49 PM
Arluna, Office of the Archduchess

Star Captain Melissa walked into the spartan outer-office and scrunched her nose at the wastefulness of the decor. Why were paintings, books, and all this needed? Was the Archduchess not simply a Khan? Did she require such opulence to operate? Once more, she wondered why the Khan had assigned her this duty. She didn't remember angering, or ever having met the man before. She mentally ran through her codex as she waited, and found she could not find a flaw that warranted such an honorless posting.

The receptionist finally set down the phone and asked what she could do for the Jade Falcon warrior.

"I am here to bring a request before the Archduchess, on behalf of Khan Brian Pryde. It is most urgent."

Gloria looked up at the Falcon officer, then, keyed a pad.  "The Archduchess will see you in a mo-" the door opened and Deb's voice shouted, "Send her in."

"You can go right in, Ma'am." Gloria amended.


Debbie Mac's office was a study in what it takes to govern a nation with four major languages, a dozen major religions, a host of competing political factions, and a head-of-state that had to learn the job 'on the fly'.

A blood-and-other-things crusted claw hammer lay beside a pair of handcuffs on one shelf-along with a sharp hatchet, and a skinning knife.  "For settling disputes" was engraved on the backing of the shelf.  Deb hadn't had to use "Hillfolk Duelling" in a while now-most of the offworlders in Congress tended to learn about it from their colleagues, with the result that invitations to 'take it to the lawn' didn't happen anymore.

It only took three object lessons to get the idea across.

The paraphenalia was a stark contrast to the shelves packed with books on politics, economics, engineering, history, and philosophy that crammed shelves alongside stellar atlases, tactical and strategic dataroms, and language texts.  All the books had paper marks pushed haphazardly into them, marking off sections, and most had the look of being frequently referenced.  A holodisplay, probably the most 'modern' piece in the room, showed a three-dimensional tactical plot with 'best guess' locations of enemy units, and deployments of friendly naval forces.



There were no cushions in here, unlike the waiting room, and aside from the 'decadent' collection of written material, or the barbaric implements on the 'settling differences' shelf, there was stern, even austere nature to the (fairly cramped) office.  the room was lit by a single, bare bulb, supplemented by the light from the holodisplay and a small desk lamp-this was a room where work is done, not meant to be comfortable or in any way inviting to the occupant.

even the chairs here, unlike the outer office, were hard, wooden things, as if they were designed to be uncomfortable, and the three were identical-a hard seat for the Archduchess across a desk from two hard seats for anyone visiting.

"Star Captain." Deb nodded to her visitor, "What can I do for Khan Brian Pryde, and the Jade Falcon Clan?"

"The Khan has a rather important request. Others in the Grand Council has expressed displeasure over his selling of the Obvious Lie to an Inner Sphere power. They have decided to launch a Trial of Poessession for the vessel, and charged him with ensuring you accept. I am here simply to convey the message, and return with a time and location for the Trial."

Quote from: Daemonknight on August 14, 2011, 06:48:37 AM
"The Khan has a rather important request. Others in the Grand Council has expressed displeasure over his selling of the Obvious Lie to an Inner Sphere power. They have decided to launch a Trial of Poessession for the vessel, and charged him with ensuring you accept. I am here simply to convey the message, and return with a time and location for the Trial."

"time..." she reached over, and the holodisplay shifted.  "Ah can't fight it earlier than June-ship is under radio silence, and I assume they want it intact as soon as the trial is over."

She pursed her lips suspiciously, "and what is their counter-offer if we WIN?"

Star Captain Melissa fought an urge to frown at the horrid butchering of her words, and thus remained silent for a few heartbeats. When she spoke again, it was with obvious tension in her voice.

"It is not for me, or my Khan, to negotiate the terms of the Trial. That must be between yourself, and the Snow Ravens. I am merely here to ensure that you do accept the Trial. It must be accepted before the terms can be worked out."

"Then, for formality's sake, Star Captain, the trial is accepted-and the Ravens can send their own representative to discuss terms."  Deb's already suspicious demeanour shifted to something...colder, and the faint scar-lines around her eyes, nose, and throat seemed to suddenly be...there- like the death-marks left by the Flu's fatal final stage, and there was a slight, unsettling odour in the room, like rancid meat and fresh blood, and fever.

"Inform your Khan, when you return, that his son is doing well in the Academy." she added, "and I will await the terms from the Raven."  Her voice seemed to lack something, and there was a rasp, like the croaking of lungs fighting infection, "and you may go."

Her hands clenched the arms of the chair, and she fought to control herself...

Rayenne Nellis Medical Centre, Fat Bastard Burrow, Arluna System...

"Well, Archduchess, we have good news, and not-so-good news."  Dr. Lee Chuan said.

"What's the not-so-good-news?" Debbie Mac asked.

"You're going to die." he said, "Probably in the next twenty or thirty years-could be as long as forty or fifty...if you start sleeping when you're tired and eating right, but I'd cap it at around forty more years based on your heredity and medical history.  The good news, is that you're not contagious."

"Not Contagious?" Deb asked.

"One of ten thousand, Your Grace-you didn't get the series innoculations because your body beat the virus-at least, into submission...but you still have it, and it's still doing damage."  he told her grimly, "Cystic tissue is building up in certain brain areas, and there are signs of infection in your capillaries-the inflammations that have been touch-and-go? yeah, they're not going to go away, and there's not much can kill this bug that won't kill you in the process...but you probably can't pass it along."

She looked scared, "How long before-?"

"Before you're drooling in a corner? now that I can't tell you-the progression of the cysts in your head seems pretty much holding at about the rate that your body is fighting it-barring a major illness that compromises your immune system, you could be stable where you're at for decades, with one, and you could be a drooling vegetable in a...much shorter time period."  he paused, "Sorry we can't do more for you.  I'd suggest you take things as they come, one day at a time, but keep in mind, nobody knows when they're going to die, or how, or whether they're going to be a drooler-in-the-corner tomorrow-and anyone could face that."

UIS Fateshaper, en-route...

"...so, we're falling into convoy with the Obvious Lie...so that we can..what??"  Brevet-Captain (Lt. Commander) Amanda Ngo  looked at Captain Ortiz' face over the commlink.

"Fight a trial with the Snow Ravens to keep her." Ortiz said, "Look, I'm not happy with this either-but it's straight from the Archducal Desk-we can't refuse it."

"And this trial...is going to be conducted in my home system?" Amanda asked.

"yes, yes, it is...which is why I'm contacting you personally to pass this along-Your Commission is suspended, Herewith by Archducal Order, you are to be conducted safely to the Kowloon System, to assume, by Archducal Command, your duties as Duchess and Governor of the world of Kowloon and all possessions native to the 1312 Sector-and it's effective immediately Your Grace, you're not in the Military anymore, you've been...bumped to a VIP civilian status."

"There's no precedent for that." Amanda said, "I've got zero negative evaluations-I earned a command slot, dammit."

Ortiz shrugged, "and you're getting one-sure, it's unorthodox to draft someone OUT of the Military, and I suppose the Supreme Court might toss it out-but this has the Department's stamp of approval on it, so you'd be fighting both the Chief Executive, and the Navy Department."

Congress Hall, Grantsville, Arluna...

"...before the House for consideration, is a bill of reform to the Regulations of Military Service for the Front-line formations of the Military Arm of the Union of Independent Worlds.  This bill, once it becomes public, will stir a lot of controversy,"  Representative Sarah Levine (SDP-Inarcs) paused, "as it should.  it amends the national service act and reinterprets sections of the Constitutional Instrument of Governance.  It is a serious step, one unprecedented since before the rise of the Star League itself.  Members of the Progressive Caucus, Social Democrats, and Royalists, I'm going to tell you why my vote is going to be in favour of this bill, which seems, at the surface, to contradict many of our most cherished political and policy beliefs."

The room rumbled as members commented and argued among themselves, until she raised a hand, stilling them.

"Currently, the Union of Independent Worlds, in the form of our Navy, and Marine Corps, are engaging in a war with the Clans-a war that this body did not approve of, a war in which we were not consulted until after the fact.  The Clan in question, is the Clan known as the 'Spirit Cats'-I believe the Conservative and Nationalist caucuses have already passed, over the voices of the Progressive Caucus, a resolution both condemning the Spirit Cats for their attack on the Marian Hegemony, and proclaiming our support, both in action, and in spirit, of their struggle against the invaders-a position that those well familiar with my own party and myself would note we stood in opposition of-as we stood in opposition to Union involvement in this war, and earlier deployments going back twenty years.  Our soldiers have been whored out to foreign states for a generation, and the fundamental reality is, they will be again-regardless of the will of the Congressional Opposition."

From the right side of the hall, jeers and shouts erupted-and the Speaker of the House banged a gavel and demanded order.

"Yes, I used the word 'whore', but it was recently pointed out to me, that the difference between a whore, and a slut is a distinction that is deeper than you might think-because a Whore is a professional, who demands something back, some payment for what they do, whereas a Slut performs the same acts indiscriminately, because they enjoy it."

Some of the objections now thundered from the left, as well as the right, sides of the chamber.

She let them wash over her, and waited once again for the House Speaker to silence them.

"Our Naval personnel, and our Marines, will be used again, as Mercenaries." she stated, "The fact is, they are still the most lucrative asset our nation possesses, in spite of two decades of industrialization and trade-our chief export, the export that has brought our worlds from the crushing of linked poverty and pestilence. But we can not afford to have the upper chamber of our National Legislature, the House of Lords, staffed by mercenaries, with that kind of ideal, so I support the Nationalist-sponsored restriction barring persons of Noble Birth from both holding titles of nobility, and simultaneously commanding forces loyal to the Nation, or serving therein, outside of a declared war-this will not bar them from reserve, or Guard, or Army commissions, it merely restrains them from taking part in the necessary task of fighting other nation's wars for pay-the loyalty of the Nobles must rest with their homeworlds and Nation first and foremost, which is a situation put at risk when they have a career in service to foreigners....I now yeild my time to the Representative from the Boojum Belt-system in Sector 1312."

she sat down.

Speaker Bianh Dao nodded, and announced, "Representative Cuong, you have five minutes, plus the remaining minute and a half from the Inarcs representative."

Rep. Dao Cu'ong (Independence Party, Boojum 6 belt, Kowloon system) "Learned colleagues, I haven't heard such a slander of our brave fighting personnel since the last time I visited a welfare-island on Inarcs...I'd really wish I could thank Representative Levine for her support on this bill, but that would be, while totally correct from a formal point of view, a bit of a slap to our Marines-of course, I expect that kind of slander, from a Social Democrat, especially a rep from the Welfare-State, so who'm I kidding, really?  The purpose of the law, is to avoid a growing pattern of young Nobles trying to cover their chests with decorations in the old Lyran style, while neglecting their true duty to the Nation.  I'm sure that once Duchess Ngo realizes that the Law requires her to stop playing star-sailors and World-savers, I probably won't be real popular in her administration-such is life, she'll get over it, as will Duke Schrackenberg of Winter, Baron LaSalle,  and any of a good score of others... those of you who've served in this body long enough, know that I pulled my hitch with the AFFC, back in the day, and that I pulled a hitch commanding the UIS Kowloon after Admiral Collins was bumped up to CNO.  the service is no place for thrill-seeking rich kids, and active, front-line service is no place to permit a situation like the one caused by the late Duke David Ngo-he got killed in the first invasion by the Clans, left his holdings in the hands of a regent placed there to hold it open until his underage daughter had to organize a regime-change by force of arms."

she paused, "It happened dirtside on Kowloon, it can happen to ANY of you-foreign service is no joke, the bullets and beams are just as real even when you're not in a declared national emergency-as long as nations insist on having Nobles, we can't afford to spend them as a replacement for professionals dedicated to their DUTY to the Nation first and foremost-we can't afford to carry the baggage of the old Lyran 'social general' system."

Ngo Industries Corporate office, Nha Tranh, Kowloon...

Amanda was 'home' again.  "Call a meeting of the board, Kelli." she said, striding off the executive lift, "All the directors.  And have my suit pressed and in my office before noon."

"Yes ma'am."  Kelli Jayne was the newest 'Kelli', her old name, her old life erased, along with fingerprints, DNA records, and medical history...

"Get me contract records and production history for the last eight quarters while you're at it." Amanda added, her voice carried a snap.

"I take it you will not be returning to the uniform?" Kelli asked.

"Nope." Amanda palmed the lock on her office-suite's door, triggering the ventilators to clear away the neutral gasses that preserved the Chairwoman's office in her absence.  "Congress feels that nobles are too soft to serve in the regulars, and frankly, I don't feel like stepping on Coast-Guard traditions just to get shiptime-I need the Coast Guard to stay loyal."  the sneer when she referred to the recent debate in the Union Congress carried over clearly, in spite of her professionally detached expression.

"So, a general housecleaning?" Kelli asked speculatively.

"Not if the numbers look good." Amanda said, "No reason to upset an established order that's working-at least, unduly, until it stops working, but I'm going to have to assert to the Executives that I'm in charge."

"Yes'm." Kelli nodded, and gauged the distance to her boss. An erased past can hide many things-and background checks don't always reveal loyalties if they're well hidden.

But it was not time, at least, not yet...

Krung Dairy, Ia Drang Plateau, Kowloon, July 1, 3091...

This year, the winter was harder than it had been in twenty years.  Nathan Khung gripped the survey-line, and trudged on top of a meter of snow from the barn, back to the house.

Snow had begun early-mid March, instead of late april, and it was heavy this year on the Plateau-more than a meter and a half cumulative so far, and on the flat terrain of Ia Drang, that meant the usual winds pushed up wave-drifts, and white-out blizzards made running safety lines between buildings not only convenient, but mandatory.

He made it into the house without one-today.  Not that it mattered.

"What's wrong?" his wife, Rebecca, asked.

"Cattle are dead." he told her, "Heater failed, they froze, probably last night."

"Oh, god..."  she looked at him, "What are we going to do?"

He pulled his boots off, "For now? the temp's low enough out there, we don't have a lot to worry about as far as the meat going bad, but I'm afraid there won't be any milk until I can get to town."  He shrugged off his jacket, "As far as spring? well..." he shrugged, "I guess we'll have to get a loan, start again.  Maybe your sister can come over and help make some sausages or something-we'll need to get those carcasses slaughtered and processed before it warms up..."

"It won't be Kosher." she told him.

"I know, we can still sell it." he said, "There's a Catholic market in Ia Drang City, might find a buyer there, and there's the buddhists, the Evangelicals down New Saigon way... or maybe someone off-world, I hear there are some places where even old milk-cow meat's a luxury."  He looked up, she was still worried.

"Hon, don't worry, God is just testing us." he said, "You'll see-once the snow clears and the fields are gold with grain...you'll see."

Outside, the winds howled a frozen scream, and white flakes floated at an angle, the sky darkening with its weight...


Vin Drin Lap, further south...

Golden lake shimmered in midwinter, and near the shore, there was ice for the first time in living memory-not little once centimeter crusts, but thick, sturdy, ice, meters deep.
Where the ice gave way to open water, nearly a kilometer from shore, you could see in the morning, threads of mist rising.   The Lake was more of an inland sea, filled with particulate minerals from normally-active faultlines at the bottom, faults that occasionally 'boomed' the land around it.

Normally.

Eddie Vanh manuevered the pickup carefully down ice-choked streets-the city had given up on electronic signals and put signs up at intersections-the cold this year had been bad enough that icing on the lines had killed most of the traffic lights, and even newcomers from worlds like Winter bundled up and didn't go out unless they had to.

Eddie pulled into the Coast Guard office, and parked, before he got out of the truck, carefully stepping in cleated boots.

Inside...

"So, what's the Weather Service say this cold snap's going to end?" he asked conversationally.

"They're not sure.  Right now, most of the Air guard's up in the Plateau, trying to get food to people who can't get out."  Commander Lisa Trung said, "I hope you're not looking for airlift."

"I'm not.  I'm here to see if I can lend a hand." Eddie said, "I've got two Brinson's, just need pilots, and a solid weather report."

"Brinsons? all due respect, Gunny, but those little air-cooled singles you have, they don't come with de-icers, we can't even use 'em at low altitude in this shit."

Kowloon, Nha Tranh...
[spoken in Vietnamese]
"...you're certain?" Amanda asked.

"He said, specifically, that we were "Under Their Law"-here's the transcript..."

video
(http://intelser.org/forums/index.php?topic=3331.0)
Amanda Ngo listened to the 'admiral'.

"Fine. What do you want me to do?" she asked.

"The codes.  You have to open the codes." Commodore Cu'ong said.

Amanda took the plastic break-plate from the safe, cracked it open, and read it off.

"God save us all." she said when she was done.

I'm going to be a war criminal... She sighed with a sense of deep horror.  Even if by some miracle this works, I'm going to be charged, tried, and probably executed for this-Mother! Nukes? Why didn't anyone tell me we had a project for NUKES??

"Milady, you only authorized it, the Commodore can still refuse to use them."  Warrant officer David Netanyahu told her.

"We have them at all, Dave." Amanda said, "How do you think our 'allies' the Clans are going to feel, knowing that we have them-worse, knowing we built them without the permission of the Central Government? and we've only got the one...not enough, especially if it fails...but even if it succeeds, I am fairly certain that Debbie Mac's going to have me in front of a court, or out on the Congressional Lawn over this-assuming, that is, we're not invaded from all sides and I get lucky enough to be shot before they've burned our world to a cinder."

Amanda Ngo's office...

"Duchess, more bad news."  the Warrant Officer from the Coast Guard was back.

"I know it failed." Amanda said.

"Yeah, well, it was a desperation measure...the Falcons are leaving." he told her.

"Any word on the rest of the fleet?" Amanda asked.

"No, your Grace...no word."

"So, heh...I guess it's time to issue the storm warning, then." Amanda said, "and you have something for me to authorize?"

"I'm here to take you to an executive bunker, Milady, projections and tracking expect an orbital bombardment if the Fleet and the Guard fail up there." he told her.

"No." Amanda said, "I read the law, I know my rights.  Take me to the Academy airbase instead, send one of the new kids to a bunker, I'll take his seat-if we're pressed to a last-ditch defense, someone should be up there who knows how to fly in combat."

South Golden Lake district...

Peoples and Nations exist by their culture, and that culture is built on their stories-and Stories, in turn, are built on Heroes.

This was the harshest winter in decades, the snowfall began in march, and now, in mid July, the bitterness of the cold seemed to dig claws even inside of the homes.  Up above, far past the clouds hanging iron-and-wine-dark, winter was claiming firey prizes.

The invaders would come soon.

"She what?" Evelyn Mosovich-the closest thing to a living legend left on Kowloon.  Leader of forces in the 3057 uprising that removed a corrupt regency, veteran of the first Clan invasion, Kowloon's only truly successful General, and baroness for a community south of Vin Drin Lap in her half-retirement.

"She bullied a Coastie warrant into taking her to the Academy's airfield.  She intends to participate personally."  Mai Huyn, another 'legend', said, setting a cup of tea on the table.

"If she flies, she takes orders." Mosovich said, "Duchess or not."

"You took the job, then?" Mai asked.

"Not much choice-Gunny vanh never commanded a defense, and running around playing in brushfires doesn't match up to facing off with regulars, much less terry-trained-and-armed regulars looking for blood.  Have the major cities been put on alert? are the deep shelters stocked and ready, are the fallback points for civilians prepped?"

"Most of them.  Hue is balking, they think if they sit still and make conciliatory noises, these...people...will leave 'em be." Mai said, "we did manage to convince a few to get out the potential strike zones and into the Iron hills, but you know most of them are still counting on the Falcons to make an eleventh hour appearance with a fleet to bum-rush those buggars up there."

"That's a train ain't coming." Mosovich said decisively, "not that the Falcons are bad fighters, but if they intended to make a fight here, they wouldn't have run, it's not their way.  Whoever the idiot was who convinced Her Grace to buy off on the attempted nuke strike needs to be hung."

"They're probably paying for it now-just like we WILL be, soon...unless a miracle happens up there." Mai commented.

"Miracles don't happen." Evelyn said, "but if they land, we can make it take 'em a good while-maybe long enough for real help to arrive.  In the case that it's not coming, we can make it cost them like our ancestors made it cost the Rimjobs.  The Ia Drang regiment's already spreading out?"

"yeah, like you plotted it, they'll be hard to get in a bombardment." Mai told her.

"Then, we dig in, and wait...and hope they don't have enough to sterilize whole continents up there."

Grantsville, Arluna...

"...cultural taboo, Jesus and Moses, did all that time shipside make her stupid?"  Debbie Mac swore and snarled as the reports came in.

"Might have.  the Falcons ran, the Dominion and Snow Raven units got chewed up, and most of the task-force ships lost just about everything.  Current reports from Fleet Base Kowloon, are that the unknowns have the advantage, they're predicting 98% chance we'll lose the remaining system defenses, and once those warships are over Kowloon, the Ia Drang Regiment and the academy will be all we have left-and those won't last long under orbital fire."

"Who can reach them?" Debbie asked.

"nobody yet.  The Tiger and remains of the Reserves are needed here, and the Dorothea Stratton group isn't consolidated-it'll take 'em a month or better before they can form up to reinforce-these jokers caught us with our pants down-most of the Navy's out ranging in the former Spirit Cat sectors, it'll take time to put anything together."

"we don't have time." Deb groused, "we don't have time, and we apparently don't have a reliable ally in the Falcons."

"What do you want to do?"

"First, I'll try to mend some fences." Deb said quietly, "In the  meantime, assume they're coming to stay, start cutting movement orders to whoever we can shake loose from patrols, commerce disruption missions, raids, whatever, and get them moving to Kowloon, then start working up a damn battle-plan that we can use."

Iron Hills district, near camp John, 15000 ft. Airspeed 120 Knots...

The only way to get a good look at the Camp John valley, was from the air-with advanced sensors to penetrate the heavy black smog.

The surface was too hot.  Fires raged uncontrolled from the petrol wells, refineries, and processors smashed and ignited by the bombardment.

Updrafts made flying over the inferno tricky, but the high-pressure weather system holding the smog down was both blessing and curse.

"Lucky this wasn't coal country."  the Geologist in the second seat commented.

"How do we put the wells out?" Amanda Ngo, Kowloon's duchess, asked.  She wasn't flying the recon bird-she wouldn't be flying much of anything for a while-not until shattered bones knit, her Sabre had been swatted by the falling pieces of the New Saigon tower, and she'd barely survived re-entry and ejection.

"Not sure yet." He told her, "We're working on an explosive solution-snuff 'em by cutting off the O², trouble is, no way of getting the boom we need spread wide enough that it won't just re-catch once the petro spills far enough, and getting crew in to do it, of course...ambient temp's too high, either the explosives would cook off a hundered meters from the target, or the capper would heat-fail before it reached the target."

"High pressure won't last." she said, "Figure something out."

New Saigon site...

The cutting of the Tower turned a peninsula, into an island isolated by a shallows choked with wreckage and debris.

"Foundations' still good."  Thomas Watchman, who'd been an operations foreman a month ago, wiped his hands on his coverall.  "They didn't disrupt the anchor, we just need a new cable, and a new counter-weight, a couple thousand miles of pipeline...hell, we need to rebuild the whole god-damn thing, but what we don't need, is a new anchor."

"The Alpha complex?" Phil Tranh, the surviving representative from the district, who'd been on a train heading back when the bombardment cut the railway and the fall of the tower triggered coastal Tsunamis and minor earthquakes, asked.

"Gone.  Hell, it was just the backup anyway-the damn structure tapped enough static that we were feeding terawatts out into the continental electrical grid-while running the tensioners and flexors needed to keep the cable aligned, AND running the turbines at lower altitudes to counter weather effects.  Add in the solar cells we had strung along the length, and the Site Alpha wasn't needed for anything but surge protection in peak-hours for the region. there's bound to be some screaming and handwringing from the econuts over the deepwater fish kills, but those'll go away as the currents drag the debris down the continental shelf into the abyssal."

"what about reconnection to the land-a skyhook's no good if you have to take an aeroplane to it."  Tranh asked.

"could be tricky-not too difficult, just takes men, equipment, and materials-we get the tower back up, the metals won't be a problem in the long term-Titanium from the outer moons and belt, aluminium/Ti blends spun up out there, maybe some nice monofilament carbon and aligned crystal steels-and they can basically drop it down cheaper than we can dig it up, try to process near-equal solutions on the ground..."

"How long?" Tranh asked.

"depends on the Rockjacks, and the new Assembly-this shit ain't cheap....but we need it.  A dropship economy your costs run in the thousands of Baht (http://fc62.intelser.org/index.php?title=Uniform_Currency_Act) per ton, the Tower was running bulk cargoes up into orbit for chennies (http://fc62.intelser.org/index.php?title=Uniform_Currency_Act) per Long ton, first year we had the old one in operation paid for not just the construction and maintenance, but the experimental-we-didn't-know-shit-how-to-build-it costs, the R&D costs, including the construction accident payouts and the Insurance on the project, which not even Lloyds of London thought were good enough odds to take the bet on-if we're going to recover from this bombardment, we need it back in operation."

"You're passionate about this."  Tranh observed.

"I could get an engineering job in the Alliance that pays five times what I make-Made, on this job." Watchman asserted, "Yeah, I'm passionate about it...so, you're going to go to the Assembly meeting and...what?"

"I'm considering it." Tranh said, "Problem of course, is that we're looking at up to five million people who're in the dark, and hungry, and freezing to death right now-you can't get the Tower up in less than...what, six months, a year?"  Assemblyman Tranh sighed, "People are freezing, starving and dying NOW."

Mosovich Ranch, Winter Quarters, Minsky's Folly sector, Kowloon...

QuoteThe forces retreated from a strategically untenable situation. It is not the policy of Clan Jade Falcon to waste warriors lives.

And your use of a nuclear warhead without provocation is hugely disturbing to us. If you wish to remain in the good graces of the Khan, you will turn over the Sara McEvedy. You are unable to maintain her at any rate, seeing as she is a Clan technology vessel.

I will be frank, Duchess. Your disregard for honor(the nuclear device), and your honoring of warriors of a Clan that has betrayed the Jade Falcons out of envy leaves little patience among the Warrior Council.

Reasonable compensation for the McEvedy can be discussed between your Archduchess and the Khan. He wants an answer soon. If the vessel turns up in the hands of another Clan, or you refuse to turn it over, the relationship of the Clan and the UIW will be greatly reduced.


-Star Admiral Johann Folkner

Amanda's trip to Hue was done, and she sat in the east room of her Grandfather's summer cabin, with Evelyn Mosovich.  "How do you want to answer it?" Evelyn asked.

The Duchess of Kowloon sighed heavily, and tried to pick at her cast.  "I don't." she said, and looked up, "What in hell kind of drugs are they on?  we just beat the people that scared them to the point of shitting and running."

"Maybe next time, we can ask the Blakies to show up in civilian clothing and unarmed." Evelyn agreed, "Certainly more this generation of Falcons' speed as far as where their nerve is... which, I might point out, isn't a good sign for us-these guys get off on killing civilians, they don't want a real fight, and they don't think we have enough here to give them a real fight-cowards are a lot more dangerous."

"Then we need to start looking at alternatives." Amanda said, "I guess I'll have to send a courier to the Free Worlds Embassy on Inarcs."

"you could ask Debbie to step in-it is her job." Evelyn pointed out.

"Ev...the Falcons have a garrison on most of the UIW's major worlds, and face it, most of them still act...'Lyran'-it goes to Deb, it goes to Congress, Congress will vote to knuckle under unless we can present 'em with a fait accompli and allies enough to make the cowards blink."

2200 hours Meridian time, orbital survey 3, Kowloon...

Most of the largest populated landmass on the blue-marble planet below was uncomfortably dark tonight.  Where the lights of cities, villages and towns had lit the surface making a kind of 'relief sculpture' of kowloon's waterways and highways, only a few flickers, and the raw, smoky scar of the Camp John Basin were visible. 

"Don't think about it."  CPO Mai Deng Chuan said, "you do, you'll only creep yourself out."

her pilot, PO3F Julian Vu grunted, "aye ma'am." but he thought about it anyway.  Far below, down there, in the darkness, if they'd lived, his parents were probably huddled in a cave-system raid shelter, somewhere south of Vin Drin Lap.

"Seriously, Vu, you're skittering my readings, stop looking out the damn canopy. Put her on autopilot and read a book or something." Mai ordered, "Best way we can help the folks down there, is to do our job up HERE."

(REDACTED), {REDACTED}system, {REDACTED}

"not like putting a tarp over a tank or something, the radio-noise here is cluttered enough, there are plenty of big objects, a few mining ops and co-ops are working the area, with sufficient radio chatter, and the background is big enough, bright enough, and loud enough to hide her...we think."  Commander Jinh Denh Trung paused his personal log, and looked at the charts in the ship's command cabin.   we can only hope.  He restarted the log.  "Skynet's slicers tell me that the blakie bastards used some pretty good encryption on the ship's databases, it's going to take time to crack the files, but most of the hardware is intact, and most of that is pretty standard gear for the application, so we have a decent chance of getting through it all, so long as some newsie doesn't figure out WHERE we took her."

Minsky's Folley, Vanh Winter Camp, Highlands...

"Duchess, kind of a surprise." Ed Vanh greeted Amanda after her security team rolled her off the back of a Karnov, "What brings you out here into the foothills?"

"Looking for a new house?" Amanda said somewhat sheepishly, "My old one was in the 'burbs of Nha Tranh..."

"Oh...yeah." Eddie led her, and the 'visible' team members, into the large cabin.  "How bad is it out there?"

"Pretty bad." Amanda said, "I was staying in Hue for a while, but..." she shook her head, "Someone reminded me that throwing a temper-tantrum across the bands on HPG probably didn't make me many friends, and some of the people I'm likely to piss off have Operatives that'd be right there in Hue."

"Not the Falcons I remember." Eddie said,  "Then again, the Falcons from my day wouldn't have run."

"Things change, people change.  I would've thought that twenty plus years of being in-country they would have had some clue who we are."  Amanda said with an uncomfortable shrug.

"Reply was less than gratifying?" the old Gunny asked.

"You could say that." Amanda said with a nod,  "Debbie's at least returning Box messages."

"That'd be 'The Archduchess' or are they more 'Aunt Debra' in tone?"  Eddie asked.

"More 'Archduchess' than 'Auntie Deb', more official than personal."  Amanda said, "She's asked me to cut back on anything that might be picked up by the interstellar newsies, to stop sending dirty messages at our ostensible-yet-shockingly-unreliable allies, and to refrain from stunts that might be taken as 'meddling in the affairs of outsiders'-apparently nobody bothered to inform any of us that when the Falcons were leaning on Her Grace the Archduchess to allow a Trial of Possession for that Cameron, and assuring her of the honor of the Dominion, they were actually, apparently, enemies on the Grand Council floor, and some kind of grudge between them."

"Sounds like a setup to me." Eddie said.

"Maybe yeah, maybe no-if the...persons...that bombarded us hadn't shown, the late Commander Cu'ong was planning to pare it down to a Marine fight.  We've got the edge on them there." She said, "Maybe the Falcons were hoping to use us to embarass the Ravens?"

"Doubtful." he said, "They're clanners, they don't think that way."

"Hot chocolate?" he asked, passing her a mug.

"yes, please...so, how many refugees can you take in, Eddie?" Amanda asked, "we have several hundered thousand people who're shivering in thermal tents tonight."

"I have some caves that won't flood come spring." he said, "ex volcanic stuff, some of them were reconditioned into living spaces-why? you paying?"

"Of course I'm paying." Amanda scolded him, "we'll need shelter and food, so I'll also be buying all the herd you can sell."

Gray's Hill, Winter system, 14 September, 3091...

"Got a fresh data-dump from the Item project."  Officer Shara Nilssen tapped a key, and the display unfolded, "Looks like more than four months in-transit, they started somewhere down near the Free Worlds border, and took the long way around-which means more than six months, if this data's right-that ship's galleys were running on fumes."

"What do you mean, fumes?" AD Joanne Ptochy asked.

"Well, most of her cargo area was stuffed with munitions." the Officer said, "that's confirmed by a physical count-they were carrying a lot of ammo, but for the size of force they projected in the Kowloon system that ship wasn't carrying enough food.  Figure the other warships-maybe the Nightlord or the Fox, were carrying the beans and air-bottles, 'cause so far, nav records don't show any grocery shopping...but then, the slicers are through about one-point-five percent of the data that hull was carrying in her databanks-but the physical count in her stores showed she wasn't carrying spare groceries or fuel-spare parts, guns, ammo, yeah-but not enough of the beans and blankets...bad news, is that they cleared through Sector 1212 on the way in-which is Winter, Jerangle, and Trentham-and nobody saw them come in-our guys missed them."

"How the fuck did they miss a Jump Sig THAT goddamned big??"

Ngo Summerhouse, Minsky's Folly...

"...prisoners still aren't talking.  What do you want done with them?"  Evelyn Mosovich asked.

"hmmm...we have a Davion guest." Amanda said, "which means we have to be nice.  Nobody is using torture yet?" she asked.

"You ordered it, I agree with that order-torture just gets a man to say something-anything, lies even, to make it stop." Evelyn agreed.

"Yeah." the Duchess of Kowloon looked thoughtful, "Spread 'em out-put them to work in the children's morgues, I want the prisoners working with the people they and their colleagues killed, handling the aftermath of hte bombardment with their own hands, seeing the faces...and have threshold doses of LSD-25 put into their food and drink, and sensory-dep with mild stims when they're off-shift.  These people are human beings-they may be conditioned, but they're still human, and the one thing about being shipboard that is different from ground-pounding, is that shipcrew rarely if ever see the aftermath with their own eyes-they're used to being insulated from the consequences, someone is going to break doing that-seeing that.  I want the ones that will break.  The ones that don't, well...they might still have some use.  Keep the Prisoners isolated from each other before, and during work shifts, and after-all I want them to see, are their guards, the dead kids, and maybe other aid workers and grieving families."

"Jesus, that's...diabolical."  Mosovich said.

"I hope it is.  forget torturing the body, Auntie Ev, I want to torture their minds-I want to see if any of these bastards are capable of empathy, and then, I intend to use that on them."

Autopsy lab, CG station Spider Moon, Kowloon system...

"...extensive cybernetic augmentation, including what appears to be a reciever/transmitter slaved directly into the central nervous system.  It is difficult to ascertain the body's true age, as there are signs of extensive skeletal modification as well as limb replacement.  Some of this stuff is pretty advanced, and all of it is deep-intrusive, given the presence of what appear to be connectors penetrating hte blood/brain barrier, they were either trying for an enhanced mental capacity, or trying to create some kind of direct neural link for communications."

Sophie Cham stopped typing for a moment, and looked at the corpse of 'Admiral' Eremiel Artemev.  "Some of the placement is similar to my early work in speech-and-hearing augmentation for persons born with my birth defect.  assuming similarity in human brain structure, 'admiral' Artemev may well have been born without hearing or vocal speech ability-like I was.  Whoever did the work obviously did not give up on it as a worthless pursuit.  I can't imagine someone being willing to subject themselves to that deep a surgical alteration otherwise-though, to be fair, how would she have gotten to a level of competency fitting with the age of the tissues disturbed by the implants?  I gave up on it because I didn't NEED it, I function fine without.  Makes me think she wasn't born different, she just chose it."
Sophie Stopped, and deleted several strings from the report.  Nobody would be interested in moral judgements.

She pulled up a screen from the prelim scan.

"Inner Ear is intact, but there is the presence of additional, artificial strucutures....they must have been trying for some kind of near-telepathy communications form." she wrote on her report, "Vocal structure of the Larynx is modified.  Similarly, there are numerous connections to what might be the motor cortex or reasoning centres of the brain, depending on development.  Cyberwork in the body is extensive, several systems are definitely unusual.  Project 97% probability that all this work was elective in nature, most of it exceeds what is known to have been the capability of Star League medical research, but not outside teh potential capacity of the Terran Hegemony, Clans, or the capability of the former NIOPS Association-the fact that it IS elective indicates some interesting possibilities.  The presence of reciever/transmitter debris inside the body may indicate a means to attack or disrupt them.  Recommend extensive medical examinations of all captured personnel.  If I am right, we will only find these sorts of modifications among higher-level command personnel-meaning it will likely NOT be present in captured crewmen, but MAY reflect some rank-associated 'benefit'."

She looked at the dissected corpse, and the equipment and pieces of equipment pulled from it.

"Recommend a faraday-caged lab and two slicers of CX or higher rating, Hypothesis: the enemy makes use of direct wireless in their command network, it may be possible to spam that network and degrade or disable enemy command personnel through their implants.  tests will require reconstruction of these implants, assembly of appropriate power-sources, and a signal-caged area to run testing."

To: Duchess Amanda Ngo, Kowloon
From: Archduchess Debra MacAulliffe, Union of Independent Worlds
RE:guests

I got your memo on your decision regards prisoners.  I can't say I'm entirely pleased, and I hope you're taking adequate precautions, but I am damn glad you haven't decided to play to the stereotype-last thing we need right now, is the bad press from a severed garden, so I hope you keep that in mind when you've sifted out the hardcases.   You're going to be getting visitors from the Free Worlds, plus Victor Steiner-Davion, and a delegation from the Dominion.  I hope you're in better shape than you were on the holovids-how in hell you bullied your doctors into letting you out with those injuries I don't know, but what I do know, as your Liege Lord, is that I don't want to attend your funeral on account of you trying to be the second coming of your mother.  I was at Elizabeth Ngo's funeral, I don't need to be at Yours too.

I'm borrowing your Brother to run the Seven team for the rest of the month, sooner or later your ranting about our Falcon friends is going to generate a fuss, and while I'm fair certain that they won't go looking for an emotionally distraught cripple, that just lines up someone else to clean up behind you...and the buck stops here, so I expect we'll be hearing from them about your public statements.  For now, keep your mouth shut on the subject, and let me do my job.  No more hauling off to scold foreign governments, and no more open criticism of foreign governments with whom we have major commercial and military dealings.  The official position is that the Government is not assigning blame-and if pressed, you are to insist that it is the fault of a single officer, not a reflection on our allies.   You will keep that line until I tell you that you're allowed to have a different opinion, or until you're healthy enough to knock me out of this office, understand?

Foreign Relations are MY job when it comes to nations we already have agreements with.  I will deal with the Falcons, you focus on not offending anyone new, savvy?

And get healthy. 

Deb.

MacAulliffe Farm, Arluna...

"...I should fuckin' knight you."  The Archduchess was 'righteiously' drunk.  "You scht-stopped a fuckin' riot."  she added.

"Yeah...about that."  Major Joshua Ngo adjusted his new rank.  "You and I both know it's going to happen again, or something LIKE it is going to happen again."

"Yep...which is why I'm getting drunk tonight."  Debbie said, "They outnumber us.  Most of the places they outnumber us, they also have better gear...and it won't mean a fucking thing if the Blood come back, because they won't fight the Blood.  They'll fight US for pointing it out-we're small, they have perfect intel on everything we send through the comms WE hired 'em to run...and they will fold up if those psychotic-cyborg bastards come back, leaving us pretty much the way they already did at Kowloon...and there's not shit we can do about it-we either do damage-control and keep quiet so we can fight the Blood, or we end up fighting the Blood, AND the Falcons-nobody yet has won a two-front war where both opponents had them as outnumbered, forget out-gunned, as we are."

"So you think Amanda's right?" he asked her.

"I know she is." Deb replied, "I got the memo loud and clear...pass me another jar, I think I killed this one..."  he slid a canning jar filled with heavy, brown beer across the picnic table, as his Sovereign continued.  "You did too-they sure as fuck weren't asking where the 'Not Named' went, they were right ready to light up civilians over the fact that someone out there, accurately described what happened-they don't have the balls to fight the enemy, tell me, did they bid down when you turned up in machines twenty to forty tonnes lighter than theirs?"

"Nope." Joshua admitted, "I think they realized the whole mountain was monitored, though-they stuck thoroughly to 'ritual' otherwise, hell, they could probably make the argument that they needed the mass because I showed up with a team of 'ringers'."

"Do you really think they'd have done different against regulars? SERIOUSLY??" she asked.

"Not sure.  I think the Turkina pilot, and maybe Malthus would've followed the same rules-we played it straight-edge by Clan rules ourselves, remember...not sure about the others-but honestly? they used Elite troops to threaten civilians, in Assault-class machines, to pick a duel with what amounts to 'occupant'-That either means they think we're a hell of a lot better than my last review of local training standards, or they wanted to reassure their own folk that they take these 'rumours' seriously-not in the content, mind, but rather, in the retention  of public 'face'...and you're right, we can't fight two wars simultaneously-what are you doing about the Spirit Cat front?"

"There ain't one." Debbie said, "Not until they decide there IS one...I'm half tempted to send someone with some of hte info from that Leviathan, see if maybe the Cats were really serious about looking for Word of Blake, or if they were just playacting as an excuse and got bit."

Joshua slugged down his own, "Personal favour, Your Grace-don't send ME on that ride."

"I was thinkin' about sending my son." Debbie said, "He's kind of...distraught over recent events.  Seeing his heroes turn out to be...less than he'd hoped probably has a lot to do with it."

Joshua snorted, and shook his head, "Yeah...whatever, he'll grow up out of it, or he won't-I know from experience."

"I forgot-the biography on General Wolf..." she said sadly.

"Yeah, that's part of it, part of it is seeing what's become of that half of my heritage."  he said, "Unless you've been suddenly swamped in offers from the Dragoons to join the fight..."

"No such luck." she said.

"Don't expect there will be-they fight for pay." Joshua said, "If we are REALLY lucky, the enemy won't be hiring them."

"It was a mistake, wasn't it?" she asked, "Hiring Marine units out, I mean..."

"Yep." Joshua told her, "I do believe it was.  Sure, the country got quite a bit for it-but... maybe we could've done as well without it...what about my Sister?" he asked.

"I'm letting her run her lead out." Debra said, "With advice, but in general terms, I am going to let her say the things I can't afford to, to the people I can't afford to say them to-and playing damage-control on the sideline while we get things reoriented to fight this new enemy...which means, to-morrow, hung over or not, I'll have to be back in the office, telling the press 'no comment' and variations on that theme."

"That include that very-valuable warship?" he asked.

"Valuable only for what we can learn about the enemy from it." she interjected, "That one, the wrecked Whirlwind, and whatever we can get off anyone else who's been hit-I'll tell you this-I'd as soon see Amanda order it de-orbited into a star, than hand it over to someone I can't trust to be on our side."

"Hear here." Joshua said, raising his mason-jar glass in a mock salute.

Dinh Diep Valley...September 30, 3091

Amanda Ngo crossed her arms, and watched as the construction crews worked.  The spring thaw had been nearly as bad as predicted, and it was still a fairly chilly 14 degrees C.

"Duchess? Are you sure you want to do this?"  Kelli Whyte asked, as the flatbed arrived with sharpened Blue-wood stakes, six meters long and tapered to a 5mm point.

"I have the judgement." Amanda said, "The legal right to do it."

"Yes, and it's going to alienate a lot of people." Kelli said.

Amanda looked over at her assistant.  "Who?" she asked rhetorically, "They've all seen what these people did..." she paused, and adjusted her chair, "Who's going to object, we'll give them a fair trial first-and after that fair trial, now that we know the ones that won't bend, the ones that, after handling the aftermath, the bodies of the dead, have no remorse? we'll see them convicted, and they'll be executed.  There is not ONE nation in the Inner Sphere, or the Clans, that does not have Capital Punishment for these kind of crimes."

"It's Impalement, Your Grace." Kelli said.

"Only for the real psychopaths, Kelli." Amanda said, "The ones that deserve it."

My Dear Brother Joshua,

I hope you've fully recovered from your little duelling episode. 
We found Maria's body yesterday.
The coroner confirmed that she was pregnant when the wave hit.
I'm sorry.
I still have teams searching for your sons, and we're going through lists of recently orphaned kids in hopes that one of them will turn up...
but it's been several months now.  I am not hopeful.

You should have told me you were keeping a family on the sly, Josh...if any of them survived, that's someone who might be able to step up,
if I die and you're not available, it would have been much, much better to know about this while I could actually get to KNOW them.

I have, with Kelli's help, kept this out of the newsies...for now.  but god-damn you for hiding this from me-if I had KNOWN about it in June, I might've been able to make
sure that they were upland when it was clear the Enemy was lining up to do Orbomb.

On a related note, I obtained a Supreme Court ruling clearing the way to punish some of the ones responsible in a manner more or less suitably traditional.  Don't worry, they'll get a fair trial before I post them up.

Amanda

Archducal Office, Congress Building, Arluna...

"...may be a little unbalanced for the role, Your Grace."  Kelli Fitz, the Director of OSS, told Deb.
"Whut'd yuh 'spect? Her Home'orld was 'taccked, mill'uns dead..." Kelli replied-at four in the morning, and alone, she dropped the cultivated speaking style rather more often than not.
"Your Grace, Joshua's a touch more clever than anyone outside the Corps thought-he had a mistress in New Saigon...and they had a family-of sorts." Kelli said, "We knew about the Mistress, but it took gene-testing the phoetus to determine he'd actually parented..." Kelli's tone was a little horrified even as she said it.  "Extrapolation by the Synagogue's genome researchers show that the unborn child bore traits rather close to exactly like the two older children."
"Who is..who was she?" Kelli asked.

"Civilian employee at the New Saigon naval annex-I believe the title is 'fileclerk'.  They kept it a secret...somehow." Kelli told her.

"Jesus...sweet jesus...he knows?" She asked.

Kelli dropped the letter on the desk, "We intercepted it." she said.

"Broke th' law." Debra said, clarifying, "Interfered in the mails..."

"Yes, Your Grace." Kelli told the Archduchess.  "this is a copy-do I send it on?"

"How's your agent say 'manda's doing?" Kelli asked.

"Fit to be tied, angry, vengeful...she intends to carry out the first round of executions herself."  Kelli said, "Our man in her med department's using inhibitor drugs to slow her healing, if she can't stand up, she can't...do what Liz would have done."

"We both KNEW Liz." Deb said, "How far is Amanda from turning into her?"

"About fifteen bad prescription habits and an alcohol problem away." Kelli said, "Best guess.  Liz was ill-dying, Amanda's healthy.  I'd prefer she stay that way."

"Get her off the inhibitors-she wants revenge.  Joshua's going to want it too-an' they got dam good reasons for wantin' it...I'll twist arms in Congress to get that stupid law barring Nobles from active duty reversed-tell your people I need Amanda Ngo, Healthy, and ready to fight, no less than six months from now."

Winter System, UIS Brenda Holostar, November, 3091...

At this distance, Winter's star was a tiny pinprick of light, barely bigger than the stellar background around it.   among the dust and cometary fragments, a sensor ping showed something more substantial.    Ensign Hong Trie tapped her thrusters, and cranked the Hellcat II's sensors up to maximum gain.

"Làm tình tôi. Đó là một cơ sở!." the sensor returns showed a complex of 'universal' storage containers-similar to the fuel-tanks and helium-tanks of several jump-ships, clustered together in an interlacing structure with what were clearly graving docks designed for large vessels.

"Lời nói lần nữa, Kiếm lưỡi cong Bốn?"  the voice of the CAG was tinny in her audio pickups.

The sensors showed movement of what had to be automated systems. 
"Tôi nói, Tôi tìm thấy một Cơ sở đế quốc chủ nghĩa!!"  she announced.   "Tôi nhắn tới bạn bây giờ trên sự định vị (vị trí) (của) nó! Nó được tự động hóa... Tôi không nghĩ rằng bất cứ ai tại nhà."

The Bingo-fuel alarm sounded, and she obediently turned back-to return to the relative safety of the Quetzcoatl-class carrier, the on-board inertial guidance systems tracing every movement from the place she'd found the base, back to the carrier, with its stocks of fuel, ammunition, and equipment.

Holding Cells, Lam Duk, Kowloon...

Manh Lu Brown showed her identicard at the gate, and waited for the Coast-Guardsman on duty to get the okay from his commanding officer.

"So...you drew the dirty ticket then?"  Lt. Hong Lian Chu asked.

"I did. Per the law, I get to see my client." she growled.

"High-powered corporate, aren't ya? Not normal taking pro-bono like this." the Lt. said, leading her into the prison complex.

"The accused is facing capital charges, Leutenant." Manh Lu told him, "and yes, I drew the dirty ticket, I require privacy to consult with my client."

"Sucks to be you." Lt. Chu said amiably, "Personally, I've heard Her Grace herself wants this one put at attention, Elbar-style.  When that day comes, I intend to be watching it with a bowl of popcorn and a case of beer."

the lawyer snorted, "I'd put a hold on that beer, Leutenant-I have never lost a case, I don't intend to start now."

"HOW can you defend this fucker?" the Leutenant asked, looking slightly disgusted.

"The Accused has a right to competent legal representation and a fair trial, Leutenant, regardless of what they are accused of, regardless of religion, ethnic background, political affiliation or personal habits."  Manh told him harshly, "I am an extremely competent representation, which is fitting, given the severe nature of the crime, wouldn't you say?  Wouldn't you say this man-or-woman has a right to the same quality of lawyer as any serial killer, child molester, pirate, or embezzler?" she nodded to the armored door, "He might not even be guilty of anything worse than being in the wrong place, at the wrong time.  I'm going to do my job."


The door to the visitor area hissed open, and Manh Lu walked in.

Her 'client' was restrained-physically.

"Adept Gordon Fitz?" Manh Lu asked, "I am your lawyer.  Do you know what you're facing?"

Dirtside, 3rd Force Recon Battalion...

"We've got orders...and they don't include releasing you from Service, Corporal MacAulliffe."  Major Julio "Doc" Fransico looked up, "Captain Jimenez, I want you to witness this..."

He stood up, "I am rejecting your application for promotion to Sargeant.  Your squad mates hate you, your Ell-Tee says you're insubordinate, arrogant, a loudmouth, and you're all too willing to pick fights over piddly shit.  If you weren't almost as good a 'mech pilot as you think you are, I'd have bounced you before that little act of Congressional insanity...an act that no longer has any meaning, since we're in a Declared state of war."

He clasped his hands behind his back, "Forty five days restriction to barracks. No Leave will be accrued, forty five days half-pay, no bonuses, ninety days no favourable actions, and you're transferred from Alpha Company, to Delta Company-Captain Jimenez is skilled at recovering borderline cases, but bear this in mind, you little snot..."

He leaned forward, forcing his eyes into the young man's 'personal' space, "You fuck up again like you did on that last mission, I have the paperwork completed to bounce you with a full Dishonourable Discharge, the whole 'big chicken dinner'...Somehow, I doubt your estranged Daddy would appreciate having a son so fucked up that he got tossed from an inner Sphere line unit, onto civvy street, with no prospects.  Am I penetrating that thick skull of yours, Corporal?"

"You did not take a stripe." MacAulliffe said.

"No, I didn't.  That's what I'll do if you fuck up only a little bit."  Major Francisco said with an acidic smile, "For instance, if I find out you've been shamming your detail time onto your squaddies, turning up unfit or out of uniform for day-room duty, or picking fights with the Infantry again-you don't want to know what I'll do if I hear you stuck your dick somewhere it didn't belong-go to your locker, grab your shit, and report to Captain Jimenez and Gunny Trung...dismissed."

After Corporal MacAulliffe left, Cpt. Jimenez looked at the Major.

"Sir, he's the son of the Archduchess..." he began.

"So what?" Major Francisco shrugged, "I worked with her back when she was just Debbie Mac, back when we were still hauling bodies out of Grantsville and burning them after the Plague.  She knows me, and she answers letters-I've been in some contact with her over her boy since he first showed up back in January, all ferret reflexes, oversensitive ego and bad attitude-she told me I've got a free hand to straighten his sorry ass out, so that's-a-what-I'm-a-gonna-do."

Jimenez digested this, "So...sir, what're MY limits?"

Francisco shrugged, "Don't leave any marks that show.  Past that, use your best judgement-You've got ME to backstop you."

"Aye-Aye sir."

High Road 2, Sector 512...

The airwaves were a mishmash of English, Vietnamese, German, Dutch, and "Barrio" Arlunan Spanish.  To an outsider, the radio traffic would be horribly difficult to understand-especially when elements of all are being spoken, in the same sentence, by the same transmitting source.  In the Union, military service, specifically service in the Marines, or the Fleet, was still seen by the majority of citizens as a means of access to a better life-a tradition for most of them dating to long before the Arluna Flu, long before the Lyran Commonwealth had proven too unstable and House Steiner too self-absorbed to protect them.  The poorest worlds of the former Commonwealth had become, if not the wealthiest fragment of that empire, a viable nation, with many cultures, but one feeling of Nationhood.

That Nation was currently VERY angry.

Preparations were underway now.  The reports had come back, the Enemy's home was known, the trail to that home was revealed, all that remained, was to assemble a fitting counter-strike, follow the Enemy's path back to his homeworld, and deliver the blow.

The Yards at High Road 2 were busy-refining hydrogen and filling 'bladder tanks'-the path to the enemy meant a lot of 'deep space' jumps, jumping into places that a solar sail would take YEARS to recharge a drive.  Some optimism at the prospect of finding more enemy 'magazine sites' existed, but it was tempered with the realist's caution-the Enemy might have left those automated bases, but he might be waiting for them there, too...

and that was, on balance, viewed as just fine.  The force that would assemble to the attack, was composed of Marines, and Sailors, and a message had to be sent.

Assembly of the fleet was going to take time-messages to recall recon ships, and the necessary 'collier' fittings that would allow a task-force to travel deep into inhabited space without being detected had to be assembled.  AFter which, the movement and placement of fuel and spare parts in caches ahead of the main body would begin.  

There had been no response from the Lyrans, Safe passage would not be guaranteed.
it was assumed no allies would be coming along.
There was no response from the Free Worlders-their civil war consumed them all.

In wardrooms and day rooms, Marines and Naval officers discussed who else might be approached-for an enemy that could field the force that struck Kowloon was a powerful foe indeed, but it was agreed that, for the time being, the plan and preparation had to go forward on the assumption that the Union would be going in alone, and so... preparations continued on that assumption.

QuoteThere was no reply from the Snow Ravens, so it was assumed no allies would be coming along.

OOC: VIP is still there and would be open to coordination.

[ooc]Gotta get to work soon, I'll edit in a fix to the text then.  Watch the PM box.[/ooc]

Spider Moon Coast Guard Naval Air Station, Kowloon system...

The spare facilities were blessed in one way-a people forged in almost perpetual rebellion keep secrets, and until very recently, in the last twenty years, the base on Spider Moon was barely a blip on the consciousness of even the most avid outsider students of the region.  Within this oversized asteroid, were the collected memories of a world that had resisted outside domination almost from its first founding.

The Coast Guard rendered their secrets almost unwillingly, to allow their Duchess to meet with her guests, and plan a war.

At least, this time, the Snow Raven pilots would not have to fly without navigational aids to reach the meeting place-this time, it was in an environment that matched the spacer's taste more than the barbarian's.

At least, in the upper levels.  The war-room was, however, in the depths of caverns beneath the surface, in a sort of 'crystal cave' carved with names and stories dating back to the first Colony on Kowloon itself.

"...and that is my proposal." Amanda Ngo said, "Backed up, of course, by the Union's Department of the Navy-Admiral Giao Pham?"

Giao Pham was, at least, someone that the Clans knew about.  She'd fought a bare-handed Trial for her own freedom once, and travelled with the Hell's Horses from Somerset, to the Outworlds, and from there, the long way back to her homeworld.  A master of zero-gee martial arts, Giao Pham was a woman who would never set foot on a planet of her own free will, and had only six months out of a total of forty years as a Military Spacer in ANY kind of 'shore duty', she was the nearest thing behind Evelyn Mosovich to a living Kowloonese legend known beyond her own people.  Rumours had it she had spent at least ten of the last twenty years in deep-range exploration missions, taking ships out beyond even HPG ranges into the darkest parts of the near galaxy.  She moved in the .05 gravities with a native spacer's grace.

"Khan, you looked doubtful when we brought up both Doolittle, and Lam Son.  I expect you have both questions, and suggestions relating to problems you anticipate?" she asked, adding, "I would also like input from the Star Admirals, as well as what you think will best accomplish the intent of the mission."

Kowloon system, high orbit, 5th Planet (uninhabited)...

"...surprised nobody colonized it, it should suffice though-active magnetosphere, active core, temperature's low and it's a mostly-methane atmo, but aside from those problems, it should work pretty well to model the effects."  Dr. Sissons looked at the rest of the team.  

"Planet WAS inhabited for a while." Admiral Pham countered, "the Republic Shipyard had a mining station down on the surface back before the Amaris war, there's been a few attempts at grubstakes over the centuries, but nobody's found a way to make it pay-the minerals available are cheaper to chase with singleships in the belt, and you can scoop the better carbon compounds without risking quakes, high winds, weather or blow-outs with a dome or burrow..." she folded her hands and floated in the cabin aircirc current, "which gives us some nice, sheilded structures down there for the instruments-we'll know if standard mil-spec EMP hardening works against the test-units...what's our cover for this again?"

"Scientific research into weather patterns." Commander Nguoc, the Intel officer for the test replied, "also testing mining equipment."

"Alright, deploy the 'rods' first-we need to see if the underground testing was accurate."  Sophie Cham's 'avatar' translated from her terminal.

Surface, Planet 5...

The demi-precentor had been surprised when the offer was made-a chance to resettle on a world, practically unsupervised, rather than having to 'ride the stake' after the conviction.  The site itself was relatively bare of useful...anything, and the various 'voluntarily relocated' internees had been dropped from the armored belly of a shuttle, with their supplies landing near to the building.

there were no guards here, there WERE, however, a number of machine shops, and the structures were definitely military-grade, possibly even upgraded.

It was a prison, of course-but the locks were on the inside of the doors, and the life-support was in good shape, even to the point of the green house having fresh vegetables and fruit-this obviously brought in before the convicts.

He knew-without a doubt, that there had to be a catch-he'd seen for himself the stakes being prepared-one for each of them....

a head-count last week showed most of the surviving senior crew, officers, and NCO ranks, including some minor ascended, had been delivery-dropped here after reciept of 'Ducal suspension of sentence'-not enough to found an actual COLONY, and a distinct lack of lower-enlisted to do the scutwork...

but the airlocks worked, and the computers worked, and there were even vehicles and, most important, communications equipment here.  The power-plant was in good shape and had been serviced, and the building had supplementary EM shielding on it-obviously a mistake made by their captors, since it would render inoperable most, if not all, current monitoring systems the Natives might have tried to use to keep track of their prisoners.

Food, shelter, comforts...and technology.

WHAT were they thinking?

The first test was on the side of the planet away from the 'live testing' area stocked with enemy personnel.

Some of hte theories worked-the 'rods' were a bit of a disappointment-the lensing followed-roughly-the basic theoretical model devised by Dr. Edward Teller in the 1970's, but the yeild-translation, and the frequency output, was somewhat disappointing, even using the doping techniques.

"Clearly, we're going to have to actually use real nuclear weapons." Sophie commented, "the doped conventional warheads just aren't cutting it-not enough of the right output even using exotics, and that means we're going ot have build actual 'Teller Supers',  standard fission bombs just don't have the right amount of mass-to-energy conversion."

Quillan's Bar, 2243 Reduction Pl. NE, Grantsville, Arluna, 2230 Hours local time...

Here's a joke; A Clanner from a certain large, avian-themed Clan walks into a local watering hole 15Km from the Falcon Diplomatic and Communications centre in the capital city of Grantsville on the UIW capital world of Arluna.

He's not a Merchant, so this Clanner isn't carrying cash-he's got his Clan-issue Work Cred card, and he's a recent arrival.  The place was full, ya gotta understand-they had a live band there and this band was popular with the locals, big-name popular, dig it?

The Band stops in the middle of the set, and people get up off their seats, drop their Bonds and Baht for the drinks they didn't finish, and head for the door, while the lights behind the bar go out and the barman pulls down the security barrier.  The look on our hypothetical Clan 'mechwarrior's face when everyone just...cleared out and the 'closed' sign activated was...priceless.  

Now, here's the joke: how do you clear a busy, rowdy, and popular place in under five minutes in the middle of a Saturday Night during a payday week?

Answer: Just get a Jade Falcon Warrior on a leave-chit to walk in the door.

They stopped coming down to the District after that, after all, when you can't even get a bar-fight, and nobody's going to take your Cred, you might as well just head back to the Clanner sector of town...

Oh, why? ah...yeah... see, most of the bar-business is either active duty off of Camp Puller and the Navy base, or reservists, or friends of reservists, or girlfriends, or boyfriends, dig it?  None of them are going to drink, dance, or hang out with people who threaten civilians to pick a duel-it was almost that bad before the 'trial', when it was just talk about how the budgies cut-and-ran at Kowloon without a fight.  Stomping assault 'mechs in downtown and threatening to light up civilians because the word got out..?  Yeah.  I hear their Merchies can close grocery stores by showing up in the parking lot.

Dinh Diep Valley, 3091

A pleasant looking female courier in a very thin light blue suit braved the cold almost effortlessly to deliver a message. "Please advise the Archduchess that the Khan wishes to have a meeting with her before he departs. The invasion against this variation of the Lyran Alliance has begun. The Lyrans made their move to reaquire the Lyran Thumb and were refused Zellbrigen, athough by all accounts, the fights were by our terms, Civil. He leaves for Sudeten within the Week."

Quote from: Fatebringer on December 20, 2011, 08:39:42 PM
Dinh Diep Valley, 3091

A pleasant looking female courier in a very thin light blue suit braved the cold almost effortlessly to deliver a message. "Please advise the Archduchess that the Khan wishes to have a meeting with her before he departs. The invasion against this variation of the Lyran Alliance has begun. The Lyrans made their move to reaquire the Lyran Thumb and were refused Zellbrigen, athough by all accounts, the fights were by our terms, Civil. He leaves for Sudeten within the Week."

"If your Khan has the time, Her Grace would be pleased to meet with him To-morrow, at the New Saigon reconstruction site-the anchors have been restored, and the guide-line is being locked in for the restored Tower."

New Saigon Reconstruction Site

Security was tight on both sides. Members of the Raven delegation used their codices to identify themselves on top of the regular security. As per Clan culture, not even the Khan attempted to circumvent the security. However this time, there was another person to the delegation.

Keigan put his hand on the stranger's shoulder. "Archduchess, I would like to introduce you to Världherre Henrik Lindgren. He will be the Riksdag's representative for the future negotiations along with Star Colonel's Chand and Lutze. Much of the fleet will depart when I do as of course they will be needed in the upcoming war. Initially, we had hoped that the Lyrans would eventually stop their agression and negotiate with the Clans, but that has not happened and we can ill afford to wait any longer to respond. The Terrans have not been back and I would guess that soon the League Fleet will do like we are and address their own concerns. I do not know what kind of position this will leave the Kowloonese in, but I feel that no matter how busy the Lyrans are, the tight mailed fist will find a way to test your resolve."

 In the distance, platform klaxons were sounding, and a bright string reached down from the sky, sheathed in re-entry plasma and blazing as it descended.   The Archduchess of the UIW looked like hell-eyes slightly bloodshot from too many long hours, her skin creased with too much anger, grief, and disappointments.  The Clan system selects for those that thrive on power, and Inner Sphere nobility also selects for it in slightly different ways-in this meeting room just off the project control room, the difference was stark-and to an outside observer, obvious.  At forty-three, Debbie Mac looked sixty, and while Khan Magnus stood tall and vigorous, her posture was one of a person bearing a considerable, invisible, yet crushing weight.  The 'mere slip of a girl' who'd built a nation from the wreckage of a succession of disasters by sheer force of will and personality, bore the marks of that task in premature aging in an era where a regular visit to a Gerontologist could have kept her looking thirty well into her seventies.

"Ah'm pleased t'meet you, Vahldherre Lindgren." her accent was back, that infamous 'hillfolk drawl' that, twenty years ago, made her something of a scandal on the floor of the Estates General and offended the sensibilities of most of the Lyran "old money" Nobility before independence.  Twenty years of speech therapies and oratory practice had not purged it completely, and Deb had finally just given up trying-the hours were too short to sacrifice on vanities.  She extended a hand to the visiting Riksdag man and it was callused and scarred in places only a gunman or a farmer would be callused.  There was nothing 'dainty' or refined in that gesture, her grip was almost masculine in its controlled force.  She looked to the Star Colonels, "Gentl'men." she inclined her head, and shook their hands as well.  She turned to the Khan, "Ah'm sorrah thet ah was not aval'ble Eahlieah, There has been considerable work t'do."

Outside, on the monitors, the parties in the room could see real-time as the anchor link-up was completed, and a massive pulse shook the island as the discharge to ground occurred.

Panels re-lit, and showed green.

The Tower was back-not yet operational, but the core of the structure was now in place.

"Khan Magnus, what is the end-game?" Debbie asked suddenly.  "Yo folks took on our side when nobody else would touch us, and y' goin' to Sudeten, but what happens in your world when you have won-when y' hae defeated the Falcons, an' the Lyrans, what does victory look like to you?"

The Khan was quite relaxed as he nursed his thermos of hot coffee. "A Clan society is an ordered society. The warriors were created to protect the weak, literally. We are born for it. So when we see those that cannot accept order, we do what we were bred for. The Terrans are the oldest example of fighting the order. The warriors that rejected the vision of the founder came back there to sow the seeds of distrust and prepare the inner sphere for our impending arrival. I honestly think the reason they did not make a move sooner, is because they did not know that a schism in the clans like the Crusader-Warden split would cause our early return. Had this not happened, I feel strongly that they would have waited until the entire Inner Sphere was in ruins, claimed it all, then rebuilt with their secret lore before the Clans returned some seven hundred more years from now.

But as you can see, the Clans have an identity crisis. The doubt I see all around us in the Founders vision, the same vision that barely kept us from the type of wars with each other we are facing now. The second that the Terrans were no longer a threat it was back to the old fueds. Without the Wolves around, the Falcons pounced on the Star Adders. The Hellions tried to step in and they were targeted with an intense hatred that is reserved for the severely dishonorable. Things have never been as bleak as the day we heard the Falcon Khans reject the way of the Clans and turn mercenary for a House Lord.

At first, we had suspected that the Lyrans would be under the rule of the Falcons. That a new Clan led Lyran Allaince, or whatever they would call it, would bring the vision of the founder on a massive scale to the people of the Inner Sphere... but what has happened is quite the opposite.

I took this khanship, not to be the leader of the Clan, but to ensure a competent voice could organize the Ravens to the New Dominion's lifestyle. I suspect I will not be Khan for much longer, but my time and deeds will be remembered. If you want to know the future of the Clan, I whole-heartedly feel that you should be talking to my saKhan. Where I lead and people obey, she leads and people follow. With our people it's like that when a truly inspiring Kerensky comes to power. Had I the genes of the McKennas I suspect things would be different. Lynn, now there was a leader with vision. From day one she set her long term goals and drove us to greatness.

If you only knew how many times our great Clan had come to being absorbed... the renewed invasion changed everything. Lynn's vision allowed for us to capitalize on the others dependance on our ships for travel, we fought the mighty Terran Navy for the good of all the Clans, but we claimed the lion's share of the Isorla at the end of every battle further increasing our armada. Once we joined with the Rasalhague Dominion to form the New Dominion. We completed a magical triagle of people looking for an identity. The Rassies, the local spirit, the Bears, keepers of the land, and the Ravens, sentinals of the sky. We each filled a void that the other possessed and our agreement to stand together fulfilled a new dream.

Lynn once told me that had the Clans not stopped and turned on each other that she would have sacraficed our Clan if need be to batter down the orbital defenses on Terra to clear the way for the other Clans and reclaim the birthplace of humanity. But if somehow we managed to survive it and claim the mantle of the ilClan, that the first thing she would have done is to grand a universal pardon to everyone. Each Clan would be assigned a place in the Inner Sphere to ensure the acceptence of the the new Star League.

I will tell you, the plan I came up with was to push the Lyrans, harrass them, take their worlds. To weaken them and force them into a position where they would have to negotiate for peace. Once achieved, we would trade resources for the worlds we took and we would be neighbors again. A much less grande plan then my predecessor, however as I watched their actions I was disgusted by the lack of respect for our ways and I was not the only one. Winning thru attrition is not the way of the Clans and demanding the blood heritage of the unworthy just so to rob their enemies of their commanders. I was seriously torn at who to support, both the Adders and the Lyrans have shown a level of greed and avarice that goes well past gluttony into the obscene, but at least when the Adders did it, they did it with honor.

Once the Lyrans made it clear that once they dealt with the Adders and Hellions that they would turn on us, we knew what we had to do. That is why I go to Sudeten. The wealth of the Lyran Nation is plentiful with the Falcons bringing in new techonological advancements in weapons and communications, but they still rely on key worlds to keep their war machine going. We will not do as the old House Lords did. We swore to forsake the use of nuclear weapons. We will march on their worlds and turn their production into our gain the way nearly every successful general in the history of mankind has done. I feel that at this point Victory will only come if we can replace the current Leadership with one of ours much the way Lynn had planned for the entire Inner Sphere.

I feel should we succeed, then we will not be truly Clan anymore. To tell you the truth I wonder how much of what is the New Dominion now could be considered 'Clan.' We are stiving to be above what any one Clan is. We have made true alliances, the kind of manuever that pushed the clans to challenge each other and inspire greatness. I can tell you now that there were very few futures that the best Nova Cat seer could have envisioned without a Falcon and Wolf Clan. Now, we are nearly at that point. We will keep focusing on what we can control and investigate what we cannot for a new path. I guess that is the truest meaning of what it means to be Clan because at our deepest core, to be Clan is to be survivors. There are many stories in the rememberance about what it was like during the Exodus. Perhaps if I am no longer Khan and the silence in the homeworlds continue that I may try to be a Loremaster one day. We must always respect the past and use it to shape the future. Do you not agree?"

Deb looked thoughtful.  "When I was seventeen, my father was a middle-class farmer and tax protester-his activities got me barred from consideration by every military academy in the Coventry province."  she paused, "By the time I was eighteen Ah had re-built a planetary government, negotiated with Two Clans and three foreign governments, Ah formed a government out of rag-tag disaster victims, in the poorest end of the former Lyran Commonwealth-It got me a seat advisin' Peter, the late Archon, Ah ended up in this position b'cause...well, because someone killed him-if not for that, we would like as not be on opposing sides now."

She sighed, "Ah should thank ye for doing me yet another favour-keeping the Lyrans too busy to want us back." she said, "When I worked for Pete, the Commonwealth was an enormous bundle of self-sabotaging interests, employing career officers whose job, near enough, was to look good in a uniform while doing very little, with Laws on the books that stripped their member worlds of the ability to defend themselves from mundane threats to feed a House Military incapable of meeting severe threats-incapable, because it was a system of keeping up appearances, rather than a system of national defense.  The thing that struck me then, was how the folks inside Mount Asgard always had grand plans with nebulous ends-nebulous, Khan, because they never quite could define what endstate they were actually after-leaving strategies half-completed and moves that should have been brilliant strokes as fatal weaknesses."

she pointed outside again, "our endstate, the definition of victory, as much as anything else, is to be strong enough to remain independent.  It is, given the area, a tough but achievable goal in the long-term.  Nicholas Kerensky noted that peace is, in the long-term, an impossible dream, but that violence can, under certain conditions, be controlled enough that it does not impinge overmuch on the lives of everyday people-for the most part.  In the isolation of the Clan Homeworlds, this meant ritualizing combat and conflict with a caste system and duelling practices...among a wider universe, experience shows that his theories become problematic-the Smoke Jaguars were unable to effectively hold what they took without resorting to atrocities, the Wolves were unable to remain unified, the Falcons have abandoned most of the values they claim to hold dear-did you know they threatened a civilian populace to get a duel...over what amounts to hurtful words-and I let Joshua go play with 'em, because the alternative was a fight that even if we WON, would have crippled the entire nation?"  She reached down, and sipped tea from a coffee cup, then continued, "I made a critical mistake in sixty-eight, I agreed to let them in, gave 'em the keys to the grid, trusted Brian's word-I was a child then."  she placed the cup back on its saucer, "I am a tetch older now...less dazzled by romantic notions or sweet words...and trust me, Brian spoke the sweetest line a girl could heah...so, Ah ask ye again, are y' planning to take the Lyrans to the mat, an' the Falcons with 'em, are ye planning t' jes 'punish' them an' gain a few border worlds, or are ye somewhere in-between?  I have scouts moving on The Enemy, th' Toastahs, th' 'not named', Ah need to know if ah can kick the football on 'em an' know that it ain't goin' a be a vain gesture lahk Somerset, Ah need to know thet the Lyrans ah gon' be too busy dealin' with you, to try an' take advantage when Ah have a couple Marine Divisions an' a big chunk of our fleet burning in on our mutual foe.  I intend to break the Enemy at Jardine-or at least show 'em we can hurt 'em real bad, but thet's a LONG haul from the Union, an' it ain' goin t'be a light touch, neithah-ah have t'balance risk, an' if th' risk is to put the Nation in danger for a futile gesture...Ah will not allow that.  AH am no cousin t' Alessandro Steinah, t' risk mah people's freedom on a guess, not when they ah surrounded inside and out by predators who want t' take a bite out of 'em."

She leaned back, "Soonah or latah, Th' Lyrans will want this territ'ry back, Latah works bettah for us then soonah does-as ovahloahds, they ah distinctly thud rate, but even a thud rate commandah kin win, if'n he has ovahwhe'ming nume'acle superioahty-they outman us a thousan' to one, an' they have, as y'pointed out, a 'pet Clan' t'give 'em a technological, if not quality, advantage, an' that pet clan has garrison inside my borders, an' theah people run ah HPG's."

Some weeks after the Meeting in New Saigon...

"IF Ah sign this, th' Dominion'll have a shit-fit, Eddie."  Archduchess MacAulliffe said.

"Considering that Sophie's deployed with the Physics Package already, if they hear about it second hand, That's going to be worse." Eddie Vanh looked uncomfortable in a suit-and-tie combination.

"Th' Task Force is under blackout?" she asked.

"Total blackout." Eddie said, "Routes were charted, but the info's been purged, even if they crack Navy Department security, they're not going to learn-from us, anyway, where the Task Force is going, nor the route they're using to get there-hell, in the runup, all the initial course info was hand-delivered, so I don't think the Falcons know, even if they were tapping our official comms, more than what their guys on the ground could see, and the TF personnel either were kept in the dark prior to departure, or actively worked on planning the operation-it's as good a security as you can get, minus having someone inside the enemy's organization actively  feeding them false intel."

"And?" she pressed.

"And I don't know, Your Grace.  Part of the Plan is that I don't know more than I have to-that is, that the info was kept dispersed and compartmentalized, and that the only person with ALL the info, is Kelli Fitz-and she left with the Task Force to oversee intel and counterintel operations en-route, in the process making it so that nobody's vulnerable to kidnapping or being turned who actually can flip useful information to the enemy..." Eddie said with a shrug.

"Pol?" Debbie turned to the leader of the UIW's Force Recon branch, Colonel Pol Nguyen, who also shrugged.  "I designed some of the failsafes specifically so that if, god help me, I got pinched, they'd only know we sent in a Force Recon unit, with Elite non-conventional operatives, as part of the mission-Major Trung had operational planning, but if they get him, it's 'cause they GOT the Task Force."

"Timeframe?" Deb asked.

"a few months." Pol said, "I know they've drawn additional transport ships-Admiral?"

Admiral Giao Pham nodded, "Indeed.  Sufficient fuel for six months to a year running dark-that is, Smuggler's runs in the Outies.  Ammunition and spares for protracted operations at high intensity, food and consumables for up to eighteen months in the Deep Black where a charge-sail won't work, and enough comms gear that if they reach the "Go" point, they can, in fact, call home using Black Boxes in a relay string.  Distance says they probably won't need all that, but if someone taps the Datanets, they'll see the additional stores as being for a sustained mission-possibly as far as NIOPS or even the former CapCon-the emphasis on fuel and food might tell someone sweeping data that we're running another variant on War Plan Black-which fits with the ships and personnel being deployed, along with the additional shippage.  If I were reading the logistics sheets on it, I'd think we were backtracing the Toasters' route through the Free Worlds, which is where I'd put the ambush if I knew it, and knew the rough timetable to target."

"Let's hope the Blakies aren't as smart as you are." Deb said, "Our boys are out there without support until they call in..."

"What about Duchess Ngo?" Pham asked, to Eddie Vanh's nod.

"Rear Admiral Ngo is to continue preparing the Vin Drin Lap and her task-force for seek-and-destroy operations." Deb said, "Off our Coreward border-I want that task force making all kinds of noise about gearing up to chase down the rest of that Blakist task-force if, and when, it pops up again...and I want that public, Eddie, use the contact list Kelli left you to make sure that while I'm denying it to the press, they're reading it as clumsy disinformation meant to reassure the neighbours that we're not about to start lashing out at everyone around us for letting the Toasters through."

"Ties to the existing cover stories regarding the actual Task force, then?" Eddie Vanh asked.

"Yes." Debra said, "If the Falcons, Adders, and Free Worlders think we're probing out in the deep back-beyond for enemy sign, and that we've put an obsessive with that infamous Kowloonese Grudge in charge of it, the Toasters are likely to believe that's where we're looking for them too-it fits with the Logistics records Pham's got on the Navy's net, and it's a reasonably plausible assumption."