Union of Independant Worlds IC Roleplaying Thread

[Daemonknight]

Faction Roleplaying Thread

[Daemonknight]

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."

[Cannonshop]

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."

[Daemonknight]

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."

[Cannonshop]

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."

[Cannonshop]

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.

[Cannonshop]

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.

[Cannonshop]

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 ."

[Cannonshop]

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-"

[Deathrider6]

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.

[Cannonshop]

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]

[Cannonshop]

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...

[Cannonshop]

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.'

[Cannonshop]

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."

[Cannonshop]

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."