StarDestroyer.Net BBS

Triad, Tharkad City, Tharkad
District of Donegal, Lyran Commonwealth
13 April 3030

The medical suite of the Triad had attended to many crises over the centuries that it had served the Lyran court. Relatively few were as pleasant as this one and Archon Katrina Steiner was lost in memories of her own time here when she gave birth to the young blonde now lying upon the bed.

Now she sat where her husband had been, holding Melissa’s hand as another generation of House Steiner fought its way into the cruel world of the Inner Sphere. The father should have been here, but harsh reality prevented it – Hanse Davion was hundreds of light years away restoring order to his Federated Suns after the strains of the Fourth Succession War. With peace only two months old between the four signatories of the ComStar negotiated peace pact, the workload remained crippling. Even though Katrina’s realm had not suffered the shattering impact of a ComStar Interdiction, a complete blackout of interstellar communication in retaliation for an alleged attack upon one of the techno-mystics’ compounds, her own workload was crushing.

But at least she was not months away and could be there as Melissa gave one more tremendous gasp and then slackened her grip. Alarmed, the Archon tightened her own hand and half-stood to look at her daughter’s face, but the still teenaged (if only for a two more months) mother smiled her in relief and then both Steiner women looked to where the midwife cut cleanly through the birthing cord and handed the infant over to a physican while she turned her attention to the afterbirth. An instant later there was a healthy wail from infant lungs as the baby took it’s first breath.

“Was it this long for you?” Melissa gasped between breaths as her own lungs laboured to replenish themselves after the last few moments.

The Archon smiled slightly. “Even longer, dear. Your father swears it only felt like a few moments to him, but I was in labour for most of a day.”

Melissa rested her head on the pillows. “If Hanse was here, I think I’d hit him for putting me through this. Not that I wasn’t as keen myself at the time.”

They shared a laugh, for a brief moment less mother and daughter than sisters in that soroity common to those who have suffered through motherhood’s rite of passage.

“Congratulations, Lady Melissa,” the physican offered, as he approached with the child in his arms, now cleaned and wrapped in a light cloth. “You have a fine, healthy daughter.” Katrina helped her daughter to sit up against the head of the bed before accepting the child, red-faced, bald of any hair as yet and with pale, newborn eyes that were almost identical to those in the Archon’s first memories of her daughter.

“So, are you going to tell me what you and Hanse decided on for a name?” asked Katrina, reaching over to gently touch the infant’s head.

Melissa smiled and someone in the background snapped a photograph that Katrina made a mental note to obtain a copy of. “We agreed on Victoria if it was a girl,” the new mother said happily.

Twelth Donegal Guards Headquarters, Trell 1
Tamar March, Lyran Commonwealth
19 October 3049

Kommandant Victoria Steiner-Davion looked up from the analysis report she was studying when there was a light knock on her office door, pulling her attention from the after action report that the Kell Hounds had provided her with. She glanced at her reflection in the glass covering one of the photographs on her desk, carefully placed to catch the light from the office’s small window, and fastened the collar of her uniform jacket before calling: “Come!”

A slender, sandy-haired man stepped into the room and snapped Victoria a quick salute. “Hauptmann Galen Cox reporting, ma’am.” His blue eyes darted restlessly around the office, noting everything, but betraying nothing of his thoughts. This man would do well at Court, Victoria noted – that skill was one she’d seen courtiers practise since she was a child.

Victoria kicked against her footrest to push the chair back from her desk so she could stand and return his salute, uncomfortably aware that her head didn’t even reach the Hauptmann’s shoulder. Get over it, Vicky, she told herself. It’s not the size of the dog... “Kommandant Victoria Steiner-Davion. What can I do for you, Hauptmann?” she asked with a pleasant smile, gesturing for him to take the seat opposite her.

Cox didn’t move to take the seat. “I’m reporting for duty, Kommandant. I am your aide.”

“I don’t recall it being policy for the AFFC to assign aides to battalion commanders,” Victoria said, fighting the urge to narrow her eyes menacingly. “And I think Leftenant-General Hawksworth would have mentioned it if this was a tradition of the Donegal Guards. Which suggests that this is something specific to me. Or am I being paranoid here?”

“No ma’am. Begging your pardon, but the Kommandant is in a unique position.”

Victoria took a deep breath. “I see. Hauptmann, I believe that we should talk frankly. Please take a seat.” She waited until Cox complied, taking the time to settle her temper as she also sat down, glad that it put their faces on something closer to a level. “Thank you. Now, rather than let any misunderstandings fester here, please could you explain why it is that you have been assigned to me as my aide.”

Cox leant forwards. “Your highness, most of our lance commanders are just like you. They’re fresh from school and they don’t want to be assigned out here on the Periphery. For them this assignment is a chance to show their potential so they can win a more glamorous assignment like guarding the Draconis border or kicking around some Free Worlders.” He rested his hands on the edge of the desk. “Most Leftenants are easy to straighten out. We get into an engagement with pirates or bandits or a Rasalhague raiding party and step them through the fight. If they don’t freeze up or faint at the first exchange, we give them orders and they execute them. That first fight is always rough on them, and generally rougher on the men and women they command, but they survive it if they listen and do what they are told. It’s sort of military Darwinism in action.”

“You, on the other hand, have a battalion to command. That puts more than thirty-five MechWarriors in your hands during a battle. There’ll be confusion and there’ll be chaos. If you can’t handle it, people will die.” Cox shrugged his shoulders. “People don’t want to die, so here I am.”

Victoria nodded. “I see.” She stretched her arms out to either side, working some out tension and then crossed them across her chest. “However, I think you’ve missed one key element of my question, Hauptmann. Why you? Did someone pick you out as best to take over if I lose my head out there?”

Cox shook his head. “I volunteered, ma’am. When we got the news that you were coming to take over Kommandant Sykes’s battalion, lots of people started grousing. You know how it works – one guy talks to another and he talks to someone else. All of a sudden what started out as a minor irritation becomes a crisis. It’s like the story of the MechWarrior who needs to borrow an actuator-wrench to make a repair on his BattleMech.”

“‘I don’t want your damned actuator wrench anyway!’” quoted Victoria with a chuckle. “I get the picture, go on.”

The Hauptmann nodded. “Anyway, I thought it was getting out of hand, so I looked up your school and service file. Scores on exams never stopped a particle beam, but yours looked good enough to deflect a few, I figured if you were going to get a chance to live up to all that potential, someone would have to cut you some slack.” He sat up tall. “Galen the Knife, that’s me.”

Good analysis, keeps his head… why the hell is this guy still a Hauptmann? Victoria asked herself. “You might be interested to know, Mr. Cox, that your analysis of why I should have an aide is much like the one that I presented to my father and my first cousin when I asked to be assigned as a sergeant, incognito if need be, for my first tour of duty. It’s how the Federated Suns academies used to handle their graduates and I happen to think it was a good idea. I didn’t get my way then and while I don’t honestly think I will crack up, I doubt I’ll get my way if I try to brush you off, either.”

“You know how the electronic shuffle can be,” Cox admitted. “Orders have been known to get lost if it’s best for the unit that they are.”

Victoria nodded her head. “Since there are valid reasons for your assignment, as opposed some of the possibilities I was more concerned about, I don’t see that I have any reason to complain then. However, Mr Cox, being my aide will be no easy ride. In addition to making sure I don’t act like some hot-headed backcountry samurai from across the border – or worse, an old-fashioned social general – you’re going to be catching the splatter for whatever social obligations descend upon me due to my parentage. However, if we’re very very lucky then we might get some actual work done in between those.”

Gathering up the documentation on her desk, she slipped it into a folder. “For example, these are the reports – and some quite wild speculations – based around the raiders that the Kell Hounds ran into back in August. At the most conservative estimates, they were equipped with Star League era equipment and they had some very good MechWarriors. My cousin Phelan didn’t make it back and it wasn’t all that far from here.” Victoria offered Cox the folder. “Take a look, then come back to me with some recommendations for training to face that sort of capability. Even if we don’t wind up facing them, the DCMS have been developing the same capabilities.”

Cox accepted the file. “If you don’t mind my asking, Kommandant, what possibilities did concern you about my appointment as your aide?”

“Other the possibility that someone blueblooded – up to and including my mother, who was married younger than I am now – thought you would be an acceptable or even desirable consort for the primary heir to the Federated Commonwealth?”

Victoria was pleased to see a somewhat panicked expression flit across her new aide’s face. You just wait until the first time I draft you as my escort to a society dinner, Hauptmann Cox, she thought. I may have accepted you as my aide, but that doesn’t mean I’m letting you off the hook just yet.

Trell 1
Tamar March, Lyran Commonwealth
13 April 3050

“Badger Deuce Seven to all Badger Units. Unidentified BattleMech battalion approaching! This is not a drill, they are not – repeat, not - the Red Brigade!”

Badger Deuce Seven, piloting a Commando deployed out to the flanks as a screening element, was only a kilometer out. The warning across Second Battalion’s tactical net snapped Victoria Steiner-Davion’s focus from the route of her command and to the wider situation as the secondary screens of her Victor showed her the last reported location for the scout. “Badger One to all Badger Units, take your weapons out of training mode,” she ordered. “Badger Two, contact Den Mother for situation report. Deuce Seven, give me a situation report.”

We aren’t even in the exercise area yet, Victoria thought in concern as she flipped the switch that told her Victor’s computer to actually fire her weapons when she pulled the trigger, rather than tightbeaming the targeting data to the target in order for it to simulate damage. I wouldn’t put it past the Red Brigade to spring an ambush even so, but it would be damn unlikely and Russell’s shaping well as a scout. Unlikely he’d fail to identify VanLee’s ‘Mechs if it was them. She was glad she’d focused on bringing the reconnaissence elements of the battalion up to scratch – whoever this was, if they got close enough without warning then the attack could be devestating. And if this wasn’t an exercise…

“Deuce Seven to Badger One, I have a minimum of twenty – two-zero – BattleMechs of unfamilar design approaching at eighty kph. Range is under three kilometers. There may be more and they appear to be carrying infantry.”

“Roger that, Deuce Seven,” confirmed Victoria. “Fall back upon battalion.”

Galen Cox’s Crusader was walking only a dozen metres away from Victoria’s Victor and she could see the antenna on the head twitching as the heavy ‘Mech’s head turned. “Kommandant, we have trouble. I’m getting jammed – can’t reach Den Mother at all. I can’t even make contact with the repeater station at Chrysall Pass.”

Victoria took a deep breath. “Confirmed, Hauptmann. Badger One to all Badger Units. Weapons free, I repeat, weapons free. Trey Company, make for Chrysall Pass full speed and secure our rear. Report in to Den Mother as soon as you can raise the repeater station there. Deuce Company, hold positions and prepare for incoming BattleMechs. Ace Company, form on me, we’re falling back on Point Six-Seven-Three.” That point was a hill overlooking the entrance to the broad, marshy valley that the battalion was marching down. “Deuce Company, be prepared to fall back once Ace Company is in position to cover us.”

She turned her Victor around, the eighty ton machine stamping deep footprints in the soft earth as it turned through a short arc. The Crusader followed her, Galen’s silence indicating, Victoria hoped, that he had no concerns that she was holding herself together.

“Badger Deuce One to Badger One,” she heard the commander of Deuce Company report. “Deuce Seven is in sight and taking fire.”

Victoria kicked her ‘Mech up to full speed. There was no way that Deuce Company’s ten machines (with two others detached for screening purposes) would do more than slow down at least twenty hostile ‘Mechs. She had to get her command lance and Ace Company into position to provide covering fire for a withdrawal. Slightly ahead of her, she saw Badger Three – a laconic Skye native named Smeed – flip the arms of his Rifleman to bear on their rear arc. Glancing at the edge of her own holographic display she saw the first shots from Deuce Company – long range missiles arching up from an Archer and a Dervish towards the as yet invisible to her enemy.

There was a flash of light as the enemy returned fire with a PPC and Victoria turned her attention to the slope ahead of her. The leading elements of Ace company were almost at the top, already turning to bring their weapons to bear.

“What are those things?” Galen muttered as the enemy BattleMechs came into view, infantry jumping away from them on jets of fire.

Victoria’s throat went dry as she saw a bird-like design that almost perfectly matched the ‘Mech she’d seen in Phelan Kell’s last transmission, eight months ago. “Expect those ‘Mechs to engage at much longer ranges than usual,” she warned. “There are reliable reports that they have Star League era lasers that can range at least as far as LRMs. Remember the simulations we ran back before Christmas.” She turned her Victor again to look back, relying on it’s thick armour to protect her even though the relatively short-ranged weapons could not fire back down into the valley. “Badger One to Deuce Company, fall back. We have you covered.”

“Negative,” retorted the voice of Deuce Two. An instant later the valley was lit by fire as the Dervish detonated, long range missiles arcing out in all directions as the medium ‘Mech’s ammo bins detonated. Black smoke rose from the remains and Victoria could see no parachute. “They’re all over us, Badger One. The Hauptmann’s down, we’ll hold them as long as we can. Get out of here.”

Victoria’s face paled. “Pull back, Deuce. That’s an order!” I can’t leave them down there to die!

“******, are those infantry bullet-proof?” the embattled Leftenant down in the valley complained, static rendering his voice almost unrecognisable. “Sorry, Badger One. Your transmission is breaking up.”

“I know how to recognise filter-switching on a radio channel, Leftenant!” Victoria snapped. “That trick was old when Redburn pulled it on the St Andre drop.”

“He’s right, Kommandant,” Cox’s voice cut across the channel. “They’re too closely engaged now to break away, not as fast as those ‘Mechs are moving. We have to move now or they’ll run us down as well.”

Victoria saw more green-painted BattleMechs spilling down the hillside towards Deuce Company. There were at least two companies and they were still coming. “Confirmed, Leftenant. Give them hell,” she grated and slammed her feet down on the pedals of her ‘Mech, triggering the jump jets. Gravity slammed her back into her seat as the Victor soared up and backwards, turning in the air to land behind the hill crest. “Badger One to all Badgers, make for Chrysall Pass at best speed.”

She cut her microphone for a moment. “If this is intended as a birthday present, I’d have rather had a pony.”

The sixteen Mechs pounded down the slope, the transponders for Deuce Company blinking out as the Victor dropped out of sight of the embattled force and jamming cut off effective communication. It sent a shudder down Victoria’s spine, knowing that those MechWarriors were as good as dead. And there’s nothing I can do. Damn them!

The retreat was painfully slow, Victoria’s force limited to the slower Mechs such as her Victor and Galen’s Crusader. Twice she ordered scouts back to watch their trail for pursuit. On the second occasion, the Wasp pilot rejoined the force with his ‘Mech’s right arm missing, product of a long shot from an enemy Mech two ridges away.

“Badger One, this is Badger Trey One,” a voice cut across the battalion channel and Victoria could hear the terse but constant flow of chatter across the net pause.

“Trey One, Badger One,” she acknowledged. “Situation?”

“Negative on the pass. Repeat, negative on Chrysall Pass. The pass is in hostile hands. Probable strength is one company ‘Mech and one company infantry. I sent in a scout and they tore him apart.”

Victoria’s eyes flicked to the topographical map. “Roger that, Trey One. Do you have any good news?”

“That was the good news, Badger One,” Hauptmann Dzur reported bleakly. “The relay is still in place and Den Mother advises that they are under pressure from two battalion forces. He’s ordering you back to Den asap.”

Easier said than done, Victoria noted. Den – the tactical headquarters of the Twelth Donegal Guards – was the far side of the mountains, which meant crossing Chrysall Pass. And after seeing the mess that had been made of Deuce Company, she wasn’t convinced of the wisdom of trying to rush the invaders when they were holding such good defensive ground. Even if we succeed, we’d lose every bit of lead we have over the battalion behind us, she concluded.

“Badger One?”

Realising she had been thinking silently for thirty seconds, Victoria made her decision. “Understood, Trey One. Relay confirmation back to Den Mother and then make for Thunder Rift. We’re going to have to risk using the caves.” And God help us if they’ve picketed those as well. “Leave a lance to watch the pass until we pass it – if the Mechs there move, I want to know about it.”

God damn them, Victoria thought as she saw the enemy’s green-painted ‘Mechs come into view ahead of them. How can they be that fast? They’d need to be at least a third again as fast as we are to get here by the next shortest route.

“Kommandant,” Galen warned.

“I see them, Badger Two,” Victoria sighed. “Badger One to all Badgers, I’m not going to sugarcoat this: we’re surrounded. There’s a battalion strength force ahead of us and at least a company behind us.” And since the force at Chrysall Pass overran most of Trey Company before they could link up with us, I’ve got effectively one reinforced company. “So let’s make this simple: the only way out of this is through the enemy battalion. So that’s where we’re going. Form a wedge on me.”

A light appeared on her console indicating Galen had something to say on a private channel. “Kommandant, taking point here is an unnecessary risk.”

“No Hauptmann. I have one of the biggest ‘Mechs in the battalion and let’s face it – there’s probably a reason that they’re making such a point of hunting us down while the rest of the regiment is just being penned up.”

“With respect, Kommandant -”

“Do we have time for this?” Victoria snapped.

Galen hesitated. “I’ve got your back.”

It was hardly possibly to push their ‘Mech’s faster than they were already going, but the change of purpose – from running away to charging ahead – made it feel different. A few of the lighter Mechs, capable of more speed, inched ahead slightly before falling into place. It was important that they hit the invaders at once. “Lance commanders, pick out targets,” Victoria ordered. We need to drop some of them fast, have them start worrying about protecting themselves, not stopping us. “Command Lance, aim for the Warhammer with Marauder arms, fourth from the right. Designate that type as Loki.” Warhammer’s aren’t all that well armoured, might carry through to this one. She looked along the like of Mechs. “The Catapult-Marauder hybrids are designated as Freya, the Thunderbolt knock-offs are designated as Thor and those light birdlegged ones are designated as Uller,” she added, picking names hastily from scandinavian mythology.

“There’s another birdleg type in their second line,” offered Galen. “Tall torso, blocky missile pods with arms outboard of them. Tagging it as Vidar.”

“I see it,” Victoria confirmed. “Looks like a fire support-design. Probably not a major problem once we get amongst them – flag them as secondary targets.”

And then there was no time for picking targets as the invaders slowed their ‘Mechs to a leisurely lope, still moving at an angle that would delay the closing of the range, twisted their torsos and the first shots ranged out into Victoria’s force. Not all of them were firing, but every ‘Mech was taking fire – Victoria’s Victor staggered as a cloud of missiles from the Freya descended upon her, blasting craters across her armor.

A Rifleman – not Sneed, another of them – fell forwards, a scorched smark replacing the cockpit. Someone over there was either very good, or very lucky to land a PPC shot at that long range. Only a few steps behind her Victor, Galen’s Crusader seemed barely fazed by the shattered armoured plating across the ‘Mech’s right shin, launching a cloud of long range missiles back at the invaders.

Explosions ripped through the invaders – far too many for the relatively meagre firepower that the Donegal Guards could fire back at this range – and the green ‘Mechs broke ranks in confusion, reforming to face a threat from –

“Look, up on the left slope!” shouted Sneed into his radio.

Victoria’s eyes flicked to the terrain in question and saw Mechs wearing faux-DCMS markings erupting from cover, firing at the invaders from a range of barely four hundred metres as they closed in. “It’s the Red Brigade!” she shouted. Talk about the cavalry arriving.

Then a small, hunched over ‘Mech, all arms and legs with a torso that looked like the fuselage of a VTOL gunship turned and pointed both arms at General Van Lee’s Dragon. Victoria’s eyes went wide as the ‘Mech fired an incredible array of lasers directly into the heavy ‘Mech’s chest. The invader froze up, the infra-red display showing the massive heat emenating from the ‘Mech after that alpha strike, air rippling around it, but Van Lee crashed to the floor, both arms ripped away by massive damage to the Dragon’s shoulders.

An instant later, she was relieved to hear Van Lee’s voice on the radio. “This is General Van Lees to Kommandant Steiner-Davion. Get your command into the caves, we’ll hold them off for you.”

“General!” Victoria shouted, still closing in at sixty kph, as yet, unable to bring her weapons into range. “We’ve got these batards pincered. We can take them!”

Van Lee’s rolled his ’Mech, the Dragon apparently unable to rise, trying shake off the infantry that were bounding out from among the enemy ‘Mechs, swarming over the fallen General. “That’s an order, Kommandant!”

“…Yes sir.” Reluctantly, Victor slowed her ‘Mech. Not even “Badger One to all Badgers, halt the charge, I repeat, come to a halt. We’ve been ordered back to Thunder Rift.”

Still at long range, the Battalion continued to take fire that few of them could reach back and return with more than half a kilometer between them and their enemies. An Enforcer was torn apart under a withering volley of missiles from one of the Vidars as it moved forwards despite the pressure upon the invader’s rear. To Victoria’s pleasure, an Archer among the Red Brigade scored a deadly-accurate volley of long range missiles into the upper chest and cockpit of the ‘Mech that had brought down Van Lee. Two Panthers fired PPCs into the infantry crawling over the fallen Dragon, but despite the hellish storm of lighting, the individuals continued to rip into the battered ‘Mech.

“Back up, slow and steady until we’re outside their range,” ordered Victoria. She watched helplessly as the two light mechs waded into the infantry, crushing them underfoot and in their hands. However, while some of the invaders fell, others swarmed over the Panthers, one of them almost immediately falling as the vulnerable back of its knee was torn away.

Most of Victoria’s battalion didn’t have jumpjets and so they had to pick their way carefully backwards. Until they were clearly out of range – and the ranges of the invaders were unguessable but long - they dared not expose their vulnerable rear armour. Victoria’s Victor and the handful of exceptions bounced side to side in the rear line, trying to draw fire away by providing more obvious, but harder targets to draw fire. The Victor could afford an occasional hit, little as Victoria enjoyed them – being struck by missiles while in mid-jump tended to do nasty things to her landings - but not all of them could and one Phoenix Hawk pilot found out the hard way that the laser hits to one leg had compromised it’s load bearing. Fortunately, quick reflexes let the man punch out before the cockpit was more than thirty degrees off the vertical, but there was no time for search and rescue. At that, the pilot was more fortunate than that of a Stinger that simply exploded in mid-air from a hit that Victoria never even saw.

The Red Brigade were still pressing the attack, but they were down to half-strength by the time Victoria was able to order an about face and run for Thunder Rift.

“We’re not going to make it into the caves before they catch us,” Galen reported grimly as they entered the Rift.

Victoria glanced at the ground. It sloped away down towards the cavern entrance, hollows in the rough, broken ground filled with water run-offs from the slopes or bone dry and ideal trenches for her ‘Mechs to take advantage of. “Then we’ll catch them on the reverse slope. Put their leading element down hard enough and then break contact into the caves.”

Hastily she waved the tattered remains of her command into place. The valley was too wide here to effectively hold all of it, but there was a good firing postion near the centre that could command much of the upper slope.

They didn’t have long to wait and the moment that the enemy ‘Mechs came into view over the crest of the hill, what was left of Second Battalion – twelve ‘Mechs, mostly heavies that could weather the previous battering - fired into them.

By sheer chance, a single Loki was facing the front of the position and took the brunt of the firepower. Victoria and the pair of Hunchbacks flanking her fired everything they had into the Mech at pointblank range. The Loki staggered as the autocannon shells tore through its armour. Victoria’s shells hit within inches of those from one of the Hunchbacks’ and the entire right side of the chest crumpled, sending the right arm flying through the air as it was severed at the shoulder. More shells ate through the left arm, and lasers bit into the armour protecting the enemy MechWarrior. Its own fire was largely ineffective – a particle beam went wide of one of the Hunchbacks and its lasers and SRMs did no serious damage.

Long range missiles arced over her position and hammered into what was left, crackling particle beams reaching out to dig even deeper. One blasted what was left of the Loki’s left arm to a blackened stub and another punched through the chest armour, opening the way for a flight of missiles from Cox’s Crusader to wreak havoc inside. What was left of the heavy Mech collapsed to the floor under the rest of the company’s fire – one light autocannon ventilating the cockpit.

Ace Company had not had matters entirely their own way however. The Vindicator not far to Victoria’s right was missing its right arm, including the PPC that was its most powerful weapon, and a silvery ball of fire had replaced Zouave’s Warhammer as the reactor was breached and superheated the air that entered it, obliterating seventy tons of BattleMech and one of Victoria’s few surviving MechWarriors.

“Three Thors on the right flank,” Cox warned. “One Loki to your left.”

Victoria could see the same problem. “Turn the heavies to face the Thors,” she ordered. “I’ll take the mediums and get the Loki off your back.”

Behind her Victor she could see the pair of Thunderbolts moving in obedience to her instructions, but instead she turned left to where a lone Centurion was firing into the Loki. The sight reminded her of training exercises alongside Kai Allard-Liao at the New Avalon Military Academy, the son of Justin Allard piloting the famous Yen-lo-Wang.

Not caught offguard, the second Loki was a harder target. The leftmost of the Thunderbolts was still close enough to fire on it and it used its lasers to melt gouges into the armour of the right leg and arm. Neither Hunchback hit with their autocannon, but Victoria saw the Loki’s left arm’s armour shatter under her own. They didn’t have enough firepower to bring the heavy Mech down as quickly this time however and one of the Hunchbacks – Ramsay’s, she thought - was backlit for a moment as a PPC from one of the distant Thors caught it squarely in the back. The Mech staggered but did not fall.

For a moment the Loki paused, facing the Victor and then half-turned to unleash it’s full firepower upon the less damaged Hunchback. Seeing no reason to waste the open opportunity, Victoria steadied her own firing platform and raked the Loki with everything that she had. Ramsay brought her own Hunchback around the Loki’s back and hammered into it with her autocannon. The invader staggered, torso a battered ruin and the left arm sliced away by one of Victoria’s lasers. Then it tumbled to the ground and Victoria’s infra-red display showed a massive spike as the impact upon the ground drove sections of the structural frame through the Loki’s reactor and an ammunition bin, tearing the wreck apart in a fiery explosion.

Turning, Victoria was shocked to see how well the Thors were holding up despite withering fire from the rest of the company. As she watched, the remaining Warhammer fell to the ground, although it rose almost immediately, leaning heavily upon a boulder to shield its damaged side. “Hang on, Badger Two, we’re on our way,” she announced on the company frequency, knowing that the other MechWarriors would be reassured by the reinforcement.

Firing her jump jets, Victoria rode the Victor in a shallow arc into the cover of a low cliff. At the apex of her jump, she could see that two of the Thors were trying to use one of the small pools for cover and the third did appear to have taken some damage. Long range missiles rained down upon the damaged Thor but to no great effect. With a thunderous roar, one of the Thunderbolts disintegrated at the front of Galen’s formation, a parachute blooming in the air as the pilot ejected ahead of the ammunition explosion that had claimed it.

Seeing one of the other Thors climbing out of the pool, Victoria charged towards it, leaving the Hunchbacks behind as she moved up to support the surviving Thunderbolt and fired a full salvo into it. Seeing the enemy exposed, every remaining Lyran ‘Mech opened up on her target with everything that they had. The air around them steamed as they pushed their heat dissipation to its limits. The Thor’s right arm was obliterated by Victoria’s autocannon and one of the Hunchbacks hit home with its own, tearing into the frontal armor of the ‘Mech. Lasers and missiles tore into the rest, shattering the other arm and the Thunderbolt launched a vicious kick that caught the Thor just below the left knee, causing even more damage.

In return, the battered Warhammer was brought low, its gyro a wreck and half the chest torn apart. The Thor that had taken the brunt of the massed salvo fired its jump jets and leapt over Victor towards the firing point of the Vindicator. Unsure of the pilot’s intentions but confident it was a relatively minor threat, armless as it was, Victoria moved forward, leaving it for the medium ‘Mechs behind her to finish off. Instead, she fired her autocannon and missiles into the other damaged Thor, the last still lurking underwater where it posed no real threat. Cox’s ‘Mechs did likewise, although Victoria noted that they must be running low on ammuntion by now, and as the Thor collapsed, one leg shattered beneath it by her cannon, she saw the Hunchbacks double team the one behind her. A moment later the ammunition rack inside her target exploded after repeated strikes of LRMs and a cascade of explosions ripped through the frame. Amazingly, the ‘Mech survived, although the arm on that side did not.

In the lull, Ramsay ran forwards to pick up the Thunderbolt pilot and the Centurion picked up the pilot of the Warhammer, who had given up on getting his ‘Mech upright and baled out.

“Time to pull back,” Cox advised, his voice tired.

“Agreed,” said Victoria immediately. “We’ll regroup on your position and then head for Thunder Rift.” She turned her Victor around, keeping one watchful eye on the waters in case the last Thor emerged, and fired the lasers in her left arm at the fallen Thor. Other ‘Mechs did likewise, not wasting valuable ammunition, but doing enough damage to ensure that the ‘Mech was an unsalvageable mess.

Battered but with at least a small victory to their credit, the surviving nine Mechs and eleven Mechwarriors of Ace Company and the Command Lance, Second Battalion, headed for the refuge of Thunder Rift.

Victoria parked her Victor next to the low squat building that house the RCT’s tactical operations centre, after looking warily at the Leopard-class dropship that was parked nearby – hopefully to give covering fire if enemy broke through to the base, more probably to evacuate on if things went south – which they had every sign of doing. Unbuckling herself, she opened the cockpit hatch and was lowering the rope ladder by the time Galen Cox’s Crusader came to a halt, backed up to cover the rear arc of the larger BattleMech. I don’t think he likes the vulnerability of this place any more than I do, Victoria thought, scrambling down the ladder.

Stepping past the guards and into the cavernous command centre, Victoria could almost smell the fear. Fragments of desperate reports and requests for support echoed around the room and the dim lights didn’t hide the haggard expressions of the various communications officers, cast into bizarre shadows by the light from holographic and video displays. When they could, they were directing support to those in need, but more often they were having to reply in the negative.

Leftenant-General Hawksworth was standing next to the tactical display and Victoria crossed the floor to stand beside him, Cox only a step behind her. Before saying anything, Victoria scanned the holographic imagery and her blood went cold. The icons representing her Second Battalion and the Red Brigade were the worst, only confirming her fears at how severely they had been mauled breaking through into the cavern system, but First and Third Battalions were barely above hard strength and what positions were reported indicated heavy pressure. The supporting tanks and infantry were scarcely better off.

“Kommandant Steiner-Davion reporting, sir,” she said, forcing calm in her voice as she saluted.

Hawksworth’s return of the salute was listless – he seemed to have aged a decade in the two days since Victoria had last seen him and his mood was a mirror to that in the room. His voice was still brisk though. “No beating around the bush, Kommandant. You saw that Leopard out there?”

Victoria nodded. “Yes sir.”

“Good, get on it.” The Leftenant-General looked over at Cox. “You too, Cox. Both of you. Get the hell out of here.”

But… Victoria’s mind protested, eyes flicking to her battalion, her men. “Yes sir,” she heard herself acknowledge, automatically. “Leftenant-General, may I speak candidly? Outside?”

Hawksworth eyed her suspiciously. “This had better be good, Kommandant. I’m not reconsidering my orders.”

“I understand, sir,” Victoria told him. “It won’t take long.” She led him out of the door and into the evening sunlight.

“Alright, what is this about,” he demanded, looking down at her.

”Sir, you look like death warmed over and it’s hitting morale just about as hard as those batards out there are hitting the troops,” Victoria told him in a low voice. “I know it’s bad, but there isn’t any chance at all if you can’t hold us together.”

The Leftenant-General glared, muscles in his jaw bunching but he flinched when he met Victoria’s accusing blue eyes and looked away, around the scattered troops and facilities around him, at Cox, who was standing away to screen their conversation from the guards nearby.

“The battle for Trell One is over, General. We both know that and I guess you hate it just about as much as I do,” said Victoria. “What you’re fighting for now is the survival of the Twelth Donegal Guards. And you can’t win that fight in there. Get your ‘Mech – hell, take mine, I won’t need it aboard a dropship – and get everyone mobile up into the mountains, head for Thunder Rift. There’s an opening if you can move fast enough and you’ll last longer up there then you will holding a perimeter that can’t be held.”

“It’s…” Hawksworth shook his head and took a deep breath. “It’s good to get out of the command centre,” he admitted. “I hadn’t realised how much it was getting to me.”

Victoria smiled wanly. “You’re not used to losing, sir. Me neither.”

She staggered as Hawksworth clapped her vigorously on the shoulder. “Let’s not make it a habit then,” he suggested, voice at least a little stronger than it had been. “My ‘Mech’s around, but if the offer’s open...”

“Leftenant Kratman lost her Thunderbolt up at Thunder Rift,” Victoria suggested. “I’ll reset the security codes for her when I pull my kit out. I take it you have a destination in mind once the dropship takes off?”

“There’s a jumpship lying doggo at the zenith jump point,” confirmed Hawksworth. “As far as we can tell, no one’s noticed her so far, so once you’re there, you can make a clean escape.”

Black Pearl Base, Sudeten
Tamer March, Lyran Commonwealth
15 June 3050

Unsuspecting, the Thor moved across the holovid screen from the left, snow and thin ribbons of ice glittering from its head and shoulders as it traveled through the blizzard. Tendrils of steam drifted up from the fire-blackened shell of the LRM launcher on the Thor’s left shoulder and other half-melted scars on its body. Where wind-whipped snow actually fell against the myomer muscle exposed on the Thor’s right arm, arcing sparks converted to vapor as the muscle flexed and moved the PPC side to side in a vain search for prey.

Suddenly the snow exploded up around the ‘Mech’s legs. Black dirt and shards of armor sprayed into the air to stain the virgin snow as the buried mine savaged the Thor’s legs. The giant ‘Mech staggered and dropped to one knee. All around it, snow-encrusted Donegal ‘Mechs encircled their foe and poured SRM and laser fire into the Thor. Under the hideous barrage, the heavy ‘Mech tottered and went down…

Victoria Steiner-Davion looked up from the holovid display as Galen Cox returned from the shuttle cockpit and started buckling himself into the seat across the aisle from her. “Five minute warning?” she asked. Cox had been getting stir crazy in the passenger section of the shuttle during the two day dash from the i, which was still making a slow run from the nadir jump point at only one gravity. More accustomed to extended travel from her childhood – and having more proportionate space, a benefit of topping out barely five feet tall even in heels – Victoria had found this mildly amusing.

“Yes,” he confirmed, checking to see that she was also tightening her own straps for the re-entry. “Do you think there’s more to learn from that?” he added, glancing at the screen built into the back of the seat ahead of Victoria as she shut it down

Nothing we learn could be worth the price paid for this. The Twelth Donegal Guards had maintained a constant uplink to the Hejira as it fled out from Trell One towards the jumpship Strongbow, sending every BattleROM they could salvage of the fight. In comparison to the scant moments that Phelan Kell had had to gather information, they had sent hours of records and even speculation by the regiments technicians based on what little they could gather from salvaged equipment on the few occasions where they had managed to bring one of the Invaders down. Victoria had thrown herself into sorting and analysing the data during the two month voyage.

“There’s enough to draw a few conclusions,” she told him, leaning back to rest her short coppery hair against the seat. “For one thing, they aren’t as advanced as I was afraid they were.”

Cox blinked. “They aren’t? What were you expecting?”

Victoria tapped her fingers on the arm rest. “Their weapons are better than ours, but not overwhelmingly. Other than that, well, that and their infantry, I don’t think they have all that much of a lead over what we can manufacture. The problem is that we haven’t produced the best equipment we can in any great quantity – it’s too expensive. Take the ‘Mech we designated as a ‘Thor’. It’s pretty obviously derived from a Thunderbolt, what with the offset cockpit and the LRM rack on the other shoulder.”

“Except for being faster, tougher and harder hitting, yes,” Cox pointed out.

“I don’t think it is tougher, actually. Looking at where it’s hit, it seems to have about the same armour coverage as a Thunderbolt. I’ll grant you the other two points, but I think I can tell you how it does that.”

In his seat Cox looked sceptical. “You’ve cracked it already. That’s… impressive.”

She snorted in response. “Let’s say that I have a theory. Look, firstly, a Thor weighs about as much as an Archer. And to move as fast as it does – well past eighty kph, it has to have fairly substantial engine. By my maths, it would have to be nearly as powerful as the one in a Cyclops, which masses thirty-three tons. Add in a dozen tons of armour, a gyro, internal structure and that’s another twenty five tons at least. Which leaves maybe twelve tons of weapons, right. No way is that enough tonnage for a PPC, those LRMs and an autocannon.”

“Sounds like you just proved that they have to be far more advanced than us,” Galen said then frowned. “You’re thinking of Star League technology, the advances that have been made in the last few years.”

“Exactly. The Star League worked out how to drastically reduce the weight of a fusion reactor’s shielding at the expense of making it considerably bulkier,” Victoria explained. “Once that occurred to me, I started looking at the records, trying to get views of Mechs with damaged torsos, and surprise surprise: the reactor on a Thor is much broader than I’d expect from a standard fusion reactor. Now, Tharkad University cracked the theoretical problems years ago, and that’s something that we can build, we just haven’t made many because of the costs.”

“Similarly, NAIS has successfully recreated the improved heatsinks used in the Star League, which improve heat dissipation for a Mech by roughly one hundred percent. If the Thor has that, then even with only sixty-percent the heatsinks used in a Thunderbolt, it could easily handle the heat from a full alpha strike, even while jumping. So, reduced tonnage for heatsinks, a lightweight engine and all of a sudden, the tonnage for those weapons doesn’t look all that impossible, does it?”

“Sounds like we could have our own versions of the Thor in deployment now,” Cox said. “Let me guess: it’s not that simple.”

“If we had them ready for deployment, then father would probably be refitting everything in sight and laying plans for another crack at the Combine, or maybe the League before they figured out how to use them. It’s taken most of a decade and more money than I care to think about to go from making them one at a time in a laboratory environment to building substantial numbers and work out how to actually fit them to Battlemechs. There aren’t many Mechs out there equipped with them yet,” Victoria confirmed. “That’s going to have to change.”

“I’m surprised that your parents didn’t give you a Mech with that technology though,” said Cox thoughtfully. “Anything that keeps you alive, after all...”

“They wanted the technology to be proven, first,” Victoria said, and then grinned. “So I made a very large donation to NAIS with a string attached. The result was shipped from New Avalon some time around the new year. Last I heard it was on Tharkad, waiting for me, but I sent a message to my cousin Morgan and asked him to see if he could bring it to Sudeten with him. I don’t expect I’ll get another command slot, but at least I won’t be dispossessed.”

Cox frowned as the shuttle shivered slightly, wings making contact with the atmosphere. “Why wouldn’t you get a command? I don’t think Aleksandr Kerensky himself could have won on Trell One, and you handled yourself pretty well for your first time in combat.”

“There are three very important hurdles to that,” Victoria pointed out. “My parents, who’d probably rather I was in a safe staff slot – and unlike most parents they can make that stick. A prospective commander, who’d have to be willing to take a chance that Hawksworth wouldn’t. And troops who’d probably be afraid they were getting stuck with a Jonah. You know how superstitious, MechWarriors can get.”

Cox winced. “Three strikes.”

“Indeed. Still, in time, opportunities may arise. And -” she shrugged. “Who knows? I’d like to think I could be a pretty decent staff officer. Could be I’d be more useful there.”

“Possibly,” Cox said. “If all else fails, you can always go mercenary like Kristen Marik. There’s at least one MechWarrior on the shuttle who’d follow you.”

Victoria blinked at him and then turned her head away to hide her blush. Thank you, Galen. That means a great deal.

“Quite a reception committee,” Galen Cox said, nodding towards the glass-walled visitor’s lounge near the escalator that was carrying the two officers away from the functional end of the spaceport. “Are you going to need me to run cover for you against the young men of Sudeten the way you did on Trell One?”

Victoria looked in the direction indicated and squinted. “I think most of them are married,” she said after a moment. “And old enough to be my father, for that matter. You don’t recognise them?”

The blond Hauptmann looked sheepish. “I wasn’t exactly keeping up on Burke’s Peerage, out on Trellwan, your Highness. I guess I’m going to need you to run cover for me this time then.”

“Well the redhead in the black and gold uniform is Theodore Kurita,” Victoria told him without batting an eyelid. “Don’t let the samurai manners fool you, he’s a real teddy-bear.”

Galen coughed. “Uh, Kommandant. I do recognise the commander of the AFFC, you know. Isn’t Marshal Hasek-Davion your uncle or something?”

“Can’t blame a girl for trying,” Victoria defended herself. “And it’s cousin, technically, although there is a bit of an age gap. The guy beside Morgan is Leftenant-General Andrew Redburn, who you probably read about at the War College.”

“That’s him?” Galen asked. “Didn’t he handle the defense of Gan Singh, back in ‘42?”

“Same guy,” confirmed Victoria. “Good man in a light mech, taught me just about everything I know about recon back when I was a kid. And speaking of a good man in a light mech, I think that’s Dan Allard down there – in the Kell Hounds uniform. I guess they want a crack at the guys who took down Phelan.”

“I was wondering what the uniform was,” Galen agreed. “Do you know the other Kell Hound there?”

“It’s impossible not to,” said Victoria ruefully. “That’s another of my cousins, Christian Kell, one of Dan’s battalion commanders. He’s real good – Jaime Wolf is still trying to recruit him away into the Dragoons, last time I heard.”

“High praise,” Galen noted and then frowned. “But I thought your cousin Phelan was Morgan Kell’s only son.”

Victoria nodded. “Christian is his nephew. He grew up on Murchison before we took it from the Combine in ‘39, and only contacted the Kells after his mother died. When the genotyping proved he was Patrick Kell’s son, Morgan took him to Outreach and got him the best training there before turning him loose – he earned his battalion the hard way, on Ambergrist.”

“Damn,” said Galen. “That’s a pretty impressive reception. Who’s the last guy, Death personifed?”

“That,” Victoria said, a note of pride in her voice, “Is Kai.” She eyed the man thoughtfully for a moment. “I think he’s gotten even taller since I last saw him.”

“Kai?”

“Kai Allard-Liao, the heir to St Ives. He graduated from the New Avalon Military Academy last year, had a lance in the Eleventh Lyran Guards down on the League border, last time he wrote to me.”

“The Eleventh are a crack unit,” Galen said. “How did he get a slot with them right out of the Academy?”

Victoria stepped off the bottom of the escalator, steadying the bag of supplies provided by the Hejira. “You recall the La Mancha scenario?”

Galen winced. “Yeah. Who doesn’t?” The La Mancha was one training exercise used in all AFFC academies, pitting the cadet singlehandedly against four larger and more powerful BattleMechs. It was a brutal no-win scenario and usually bruising to the ego.

“Kai beat it,” Victoria told him under her breath and left him fighting to keep his jaw closed as she saluted Morgan Hasek-Davion. “Kommandant Steiner-Davion and a party of one, reporting for duty, sir.”

Morgan returned the salute crisply and then gave into sentiment and pulled Victoria into a hug, the diminutive young woman pulled up onto tip toes by the gesture as Morgan’s long coppery hair spilled forwards from his shoulders and onto the top of her scarely lighter hair. “It’s good to see you made it here, safely, Victoria.”

Victoria nodded. “Thank Hauptmann Cox here, without him on my wing I’d probably never have made it back to the spaceport on Trell One.”

“Then the Commonwealth owes you a great debt, Hauptmann Cox,” Morgan said seriously, shaking Galen’s hand.

“I think it was more the way around, sir,” Galen said gracefully. “If the Kommandant hadn’t been a step ahead of them tactically, none of us would have made it back to our lines.” His face tightened.

Behind Morgan, Andrew Redburn was the next to greet Victoria although he limited himself to a handshake. “Sounds like another couple of young mechwarriors I remember,” he said drily. “Back about twenty years, wasn’t it Morgan?”

“We didn’t have quite such a desperate trial by fire,” the commander of the Armed Forces of the Federated Commonwealth said quietly. “We’re going to be picking your brains for the next few weeks as the troops assemble,” he added to Victoria. “The Twelth Donegal Guards did their best but no one expected anything like this invasion. We have to do better than that.”

“I’ve done some preliminary work,” Victoria agreed and turned towards the two Kell Hounds, “Both from the data that General Hawksworth transmitted and the reports from the Rock. It’s good to see you again, Colonel, Chris. I just wish the circumstances were better.”

“After what happened to Phelan, wild horses couldn’t have kept us away,” Christian assured her, his eyes haunted. “Besides, I have firm orders from your Aunt Nondi to deliver a certain package that’s been cluttering up the hangers under the Triad.”

“Along with scathing commentary about keeping my toys closer to hand and not thinking I’m the second coming of the Black Widow, no doubt,” Victoria chuckled. She turned to the last of the welcoming party with a smile. “Good to see you, Kai.”

Kai Allard-Liao offered his hand but Victoria wasn’t taking any of that and dragged him into a hug. “So, if I decide to quit working for Morgan and go mercenary are you up for it? I’ll give you a lance as soon as I have enough ‘Mechs.”

“Wait, what?” he spluttered and Galen chuckled at the startled expression on the younger man’s face.

“I figure the odds are against me getting another command unless I build my own,” Victoria said, still holding onto Kai’s forearms. “It worked for the Duke of New Ivaarsen.”

“Not entirely,” Morgan told her grimly. “The Second Chasseurs were wiped out on Somerset last month. And you aren’t going to be without a command. When we pulled the Tenth Lyran Guards off Atria several officers decided they’d rather retire there than go to war. I’m giving you a battalion.”

Victoria’s jaw dropped. “Somewhere on Dromini, the remains of Frederick Steiner are spinning inhis grave,” she said at last. The Tenth Lyran Guards used to be one of the best units we had! “I hope you’re exagerating a little.”

“He is,” Kai assured her quickly. “There were only a handful of resignations and everyone else has something to prove.”

“Everyone else?” Victoria gave him a puzzled look, then tugged him around to examine his unit patch. “You quit the Eleventh Lyran Guards?”

He shrugged and grinned. “They were asking for volunteers – quite a few people got promoted to fill out the gaps.”

“Yes, but -” She stopped and checked his rank insignia. “You didn’t get promoted. So why…”

Morgan chuckled. “Blame your father,” he said, passing the buck courageously. “Your mother wanted you to join the Tenth – it’s notorious for the number of future Archons who served in it. But it was Hanse’s idea that since deploying you five hundred light years apart hadn’t worked out -”

Victoria let go of Kai’s sleeves and glared at her cousin.

“- maybe he could try putting the full legal weight of the AFFC’s code of conduct putting between you,” Morgan said, hiding a smile. “There are rules against relationships up and down the chain of command you know. And you wouldn’t expect to get some sort of special dispensation would you?”

“That’s evil,” Victoria said in shock. “Raising my own regiment is sounding better and better.”

Black Pearl Base, Sudeten
Tamar March, Lyran Commonwealth
1 July 3050

Victoria bumped into Galen Cox as she left her room for the meeting with the Junior Officer Strategy Board to discuss tactics to counter the invaders’ – current intelligence suggested at least two groups, designating themselves as Jade Falcons (the attackers on Trell One) and the Wolves (Phelan’s killers) – armored infantry. Startled, she lost her grip on the proposals she’d been drafting and as she reeled back, more intent upon catching the papers than upon her own balance, she crashed into Kai Allard-Liao, which completed the disaster. AFFC headed paper scattered across the floor and the only reason that Victoria didn’t follow them was that Kai caught her.

“Whoa – um… oh. Thank you, Kai,” she greeted him once she had reorientated herself. “Sorry about that. You too, Galen. I’m not usually this clumsy.”

“Not enough caffeine?” Galen asked charitably and then sniffed the air, detecting the aroma from the coffeemaker Victoria had obtained for herself out of the Base stores. It was taking more and more to get her going every morning, she had found. The blond Hauptmann raised his eyebrows. “Taken to stronger brews?”

“I had a mug,” Victoria waved him off and crouched to recover her paperwork. The two men met each other’s eyes over her head.

“Let me get those for you,” Galen offered in a sudden show of gallantry while Kai almost picked her up off the ground and half-carried her back into her room with three quick steps despite an indignant yelp from the princess.

“Are you sure you aren’t coming down with something?” Kai asked seriously, setting her down. “I don’t recall seeing you this stressed even for end of year exams at NAMA.”

Victoria shook her head. “The stakes are a little bit higher this time,” she told him, picking up a manual from the desk. “Start small and work your way up: if I don’t get to grips with my new ride then I might wind up dead; if I don’t get the battalion in shape, I could lose all of them; and if I mess up at the Strategy Board, the entire AFFC could get wrongfooted. I don’t have time to be ill.”

Kai’s eyes narrowed dangerously as he added up the demands on her time. “How much sleep have you been getting?” he demanded, cutting to the heart of his concerns.

“Five hours a day… mostly,” Victoria admitted, not meeting his eyes.

“Which means four – possibly less,” he guessed. “You’re smarter than that – if you miss something because you’re punch drunk, then someone really could wind up dead. I can’t believe the techs even let you near your ‘Mech looking like that.”

“I’m alright,” she protested. “It just takes me a few minutes to wake up.”

“You used to be up at the crack of dawn every morning at NAMA,” Kai objected. “Even the morning after you and Wendy Sylvester went bar crawling in New Avalon in those ridiculous disguises.”

Galen stepped into the room holding her paperwork. “She was the same on Trell One.” He paused for effect. “Well, except the disguises when she went bar crawling.”

“Do you mind not talking as if I’m not here? Or even letting me out of here so I can get to the meeting,” protested Victoria.

“Do you really need to be at the meeting?” Galen asked.

“Yes!” Victoria shouted.

“No,” Kai said judiciously. “I’ve got a few ideas, but I can just give someone my notes.” He looked over at the papers Galen held. “Are those Victoria’s notes?”

“Not for the meeting,” the blond said. “Looks like that idea she had on the shuttle for duplicating a Thor. Want me to take your notes to the meeting?”

“If you leave me hers,” Kai agreed. “I can see if her spelling’s improved.”

“Bad?”

“Not in German, no.”

Practically red in the face, Victoria slumped down to sit on the bed. “Would the two of you please stop acting like children? I’ve got a job to do.”

Kai went to one knee in front of her, putting their faces on a level. “Vicky, we’re your friends. You’re burning yourself out trying to do three jobs at once. It would be hard enough getting used to a new ‘Mech when you’re also taking on a whole Battalion. But you’re trying to re-write the book on battlemech procurement as well. You need to rest or you’re going to fail at all of them.”

Victoria stared at him and then buried her face in Kai’s right shoulder, beating one fist gently against his other shoulder as he wrapped his arms around her. “I lost my damn Battalion to those batards,” she whispered. “I can’t do that again.”

Neither of them noticed Galen slipping out of the door, or that he had locked it behind him.

“Is something the matter, Hauptmann?” asked a half-familiar voice from behind him.

Galen half-jumped and once he’d turned around snapped off a salute with parade-ground precision, as was appropriate when faced with the Marshal of the AFFC. “No sir, just leaving for the Junior Officer’s Strategy Board meeting.”

Morgan Hasek-Davion nodded solemnly. “Ah. I was hoping to catch Kommandant Steiner-Davion before that meeting. Have I missed her?”

Galen froze. Oh you’ve really put your foot in it now, Cox, he thought. When he’d first learned that Victoria Steiner-Davion would be assigned to the Twelth Donegal Guards, he – like most of the other younger officers – had entertained momentary fairy-tale fantasies. She was young, and while not classically beautiful, Victoria was never less than striking even in AFFC uniforms. Wondering how old girlfriends – or even their parents – would have reacted to a relationship had amused him, before reality arrived like a bucket of cold water.

Galen and Victoria were worlds apart. She was a noble, heiress to two dynasties almost a thousand years old and destined to rule almost half of humanity. Galen was an ordinary citizen, whose father ran a repair shop and had never come closer to the Commonwealth’s ruling House than the images on a stamp or coin. And although they had fought together, sharing a bond as Mechwarriors, even now that friendship was not an equal one because the man enquiring about Galen’s commander was not only her cousin, he was Galen’s supreme commander. These are dangerous waters I’ve entered.

“The Kommandant is resting, sir. I don’t believe she’ll be attending the meeting today,” he managed.

“Victoria’s resting?” Morgan’s eyebrows rose. “You must be a good influence on her, Hauptmann. Usually her idea of resting is to only do the work of two people instead of her usual schedule.”

“I noticed that, sir,” Galen said, relaxing slightly.

“So, what’s your secret?” the Marshal asked. “Because we’ve all been looking for a way to get her to slow down a little since she was old enough to walk and talk at the same time.”

“I locked her in her room with Leftenant Allard,” confessed Galen without thinking the statement through. The startled look on Morgan’s face made him realise what he’d just said.

Morgan cleared his throat. “Perhaps you’d like to explain that in a little more detail, Hauptmann Cox,” he ordered politely, but with colour rising in his face.

“We figured it would be best not to let her back out of bed until… uh, that sounded better in my head, sir,” he broke off in embarassment. I’m a dead man. My career is over. I wonder if I’ll like military prison.

The redheaded officer stared glassily down the corridor and then gave in, leaning against the wall and bellowing with helpless laughter. “That – oh god – that would work,” he chortled. “Might want to be careful how I tell her parents though – they like Kai, you know, but the politics would be a nightmare if the two of them did get together.”

Galen said nothing, still numb with a fear of consequences that were now completely out of his hands. Morgan looked up at him and laughed again. “You’re not the first man I’ve seen with that expression on his face after working with the Young Fox for a while. She ran about a third of NAIS ragged the one year she was there. The faculty breathed a great sigh of relief the day the semester finished and she had to leave for Robinson with the rest of the family.”

“Drop those off at the meeting and take the rest of the day off,” he offered kindly. “She’ll be raring to go when she gets out, you should get some rest first.”

“Ah… I still have the keys for her room,” protested Galen.

Morgan shrugged. “Her cousin Phelan taught her to pick locks when she was fifteen, I’m sure she’ll manage.”

Black Pearl Base, Sudeten
Tamar March, Lyran Commonwealth
11 July 3050

A thrill went up Victoria’s spine as she and Kai entered the base’s Mechbays. She couldn’t believe how much better she felt after sleeping the day through, waking only intermittantly to watch Kai for a while as he sat at her desk doing his own paperwork for the Strategy Board. She hadn’t even realised, the last few times she’d been in the ‘Mechbay that the experience had lacked the old excitement she remembered from playing in the Royal Guards’ mechbays before (and after) her aunt Nondi had told her off for doing so.

Most of the units gathered on Sudeten had left their BattleMechs aboard their dropships, removing only those that could benefit from repairs impossible aboard ships. As a result the majority of the ‘Mechs that towered over the two young officers were painted in the colours of the famous Gray Death Legion, who had held the landhold on Sudeten for almost two decades. Threading their way through the ranks, the pair made their way towards two of the exceptions, ‘Mechs sporting the ceremonial white and blue of the Lyran Guards.

This corner of the barn-like structure was relatively quiet – a technican on a cherry-picker was loading rounds into the back of Yen-lo-Wang, no doubt feeding the magazine for the massive Pontiac 100 that dominated the right arm. Even if Victoria hadn’t known the famous ‘Mech’s history from the Solaris arenas, she was well familiar with the weapon from her old Victor. A second man was examining her own ‘Mech and in the shadows it took her a moment to recognise him.

“Colonel Carlyle,” she greeted him, saluting briskly.

The commander of the Gray Death Legion returned the salute briskly. “Good morning, Kommandant, Leftenant,” he said. “You’re… up early.”

What was that pause for? Victoria wondered. Why wouldn’t we be… She and Kai exchanged sharp, half-guilty looks as they came to the same realisation. They’d both been out of sight for a whole day. All it would take would be one off-colour joke and half the Base would be convinced they’d been off in a honeymoon suite the whole time. “Well it’s the German blood in me,” Victoria brazened. “Always got to be first out there on the sunbed.” And even if it was true, we’re both adults so it would be no one else’s business, she rationalised, knowing that it wasn’t true.

Carlyle chuckled. “I know it’s hard to believe,” he told them, “But I was young once myself. I used to pilot one of those back then -” he jerked his thumb up towards Victoria’s new Marauder “– although I see you’ve customised yours a bit.”

“Just a bit,” Victoria told him. “It was a bit of an experiment – you can probably see where the torso needed to be rebuilt around the new heatsinks.”

“Yes,” Carlyle agreed. “And the improved armour around the torso ring and the weapon mount is a good design, I had mine modified in much the same way, although without the freezers, of course.”

“Naturally,” Victoria agreed and reached for the collar of her uniform jacket. “Excuse me, we really need to get up and going if we’re going to have first crack at the gunnery course.”

The Colonel nodded. “Go right ahead. I’ll watch you from Course Central, if you don’t mind.” He leant forwards. “Actually, there are going to be quite a few people there this morning. There’s some money riding on how well your new ‘Mech does. Don’t let your supporters down.”

Victoria choked indignantly and before she could come up with a response, Carlyle was striding away from them, crossing the Mechbay swiftly. Stupid… tall… old man! And who’s got the nerve to bet against me!? she fumed as she stripped off her jacket and shirt, leaving her with only an undershirt between her skin and the goretex lining of the cooling vest that Kai offered her before pulling his own out of the bag he had insisted on carrying for her out from the accomodation block.

Loosening her belt, she snuck a look at Kai while his shirt was off and then sat on the fender of the cherrypicker to slip off the uniform pants she was wearing over her mechwarrior shorts, a pleased smile on her face after that guilty indulgence. “Are you done loading his ‘Mech?” she called up to the technican.

“Just sealing the ammo bins up, your highness,” the man called down to her.

“That’s Kommandant,” Victoria snapped and then sighed. “Besides, you’re the one higher up than me at the moment,” she joked, slapping the cherrypicker’s tyre with one hand as she stood up and started folding her uniform into a convenient bundle. “Kai, since Yen-lo-Wang’s just about ready for you, I’ll go mount up myself.”

Victoria scrambled up the rope ladder dangling from the side of her Marauder’s tapering torso, her bundled uniform thrust inside her half-open cooling vest. The heavy Mech’s hatch was on top, more than six times higher than Victoria’s head when she stood on the ground. She had to laugh at some infantrymen who groused about ‘layabout mechjocks’ – it was a rare day that one of them had to climb that far, and even once in the cockpit piloting a Mech was physically demanding. The rope ladder waved around as she climbed but she was used to that – having someone secure the bottom wasn’t always possible – and less than a minute later she scrambled up on to the top of the Marauder and clambered into the open hatch, slapping the control to retract the rope ladder into its small compartment. The electric motor rattled behind her, only to mute suddenly as Victoria closed the hatch above her and the airtight seal formed.

The cockpit of the Marauder was spacious enough for even large men, so Victoria had no difficulty reaching around the command couch to drop her clothes into the locker set aside from them. While checking the contents of the other lockers – survival gear under the ejection seat, emergency rations in their locker, toilet roll and a small medical kit in their places – she felt her ears pop as the cockpit over-pressurized. Tumbing the power switch for the reactor, Victoria rebuckled her cooling vest, this time drawing it close around her where it would do most good, and strapped herself into the couch. On disadvantage of the size of the cockpit was that if she got bounced out of the chair, a Mechwarrior would likely wind up with broken bones so Victoria double-checked every strap before plugging the power cord of her cooling vest into the coupling on the left side of the couch.

Opposite that coupling was a small compartment with four medical sensors and Victoria peeled them from the adhesive strip and placed them on her thighs and upper arms with the ease of long experience. The same compartment also gave up cables she threaded through loops on the cooling vest and then plugged into the sensors, leaving the loose ends dangling near her throat. Reaching up her, Victoria lifted the neurohelmet from the shelf above and behind the command couch, pleased that she had accustomed herself to the Marauder to the point that she could do so without looking. Lowering it over her head, she let it rest on her shoulders and plugged the cables in before moving working it from side to side a little until the neurosensors inside the helmet sat correctly and she could see clearly out of the clear faceplate, then used velcro tabs to secure the helmet.

The reactor was running smoothly now, a steady vibration in the frame of the Marauder, and Victoria could feel warm air currents around her legs. The ‘Mech was ready, but there was another step to take before she could take the controls. Like all ‘Mechs, the Marauder had a security system that would prevent any of the controls from functioning unless it received the proper voiceprint: its designated pilot voicing the preset codewords. Victoria pressed a glowing yellow button on her command console.

“Identify yourself,” a harsh, female voice demanded from inside Victoria’s neurohelmet. She smiled involuntarily at the sound of Nondi Steiner’s voice. Her great-aunt had been touched when Victoria had asked permission to use recordings of her voice for the Marauder’s computer.

“Victoria Katrina Steiner-Davion,” she responded, letting the computer chew over whether or not it would believe her.

“Landgrave,” Nondi’s voice responded, using Victoria’s Lyran title. “Confirm your authority.”

Victoria smiled tightly. She’d read extensively as a child and selected her code phrase accordingly. “‘He never claimed to be a god’,” she recited. “‘But then, he never claimed not to be a god’.” The yellow button ceased to glow as the interlocks disconnected and the holographic display came to life, compacting a 360 degree view of the Marauder’s surroundings into the 160 degree arc in front of her but still Victoria waited. She had asked Nondi Steiner to give her voice to the security… but she had asked her father for his double interlock, with a second code that seperately would reserve control of the weapon systems. The next lines of the book she had quoted from referred to silence and there was a built in delay that must be endured, only a few seconds but long enough to feel unnatural, long enough that she could have read those lines (which was a convenient way to measure it). Then: “Your prayers and your curses come to the same,” she told the Marauder and the yellow light blinked twice in response, confirming that the weapons were now unlocked.

Off to one side, Yen-lo-Wang was already taking it’s first step out of postion, strongly suggesting that Kai didn’t have such an elaborate security set up. Or at least such a lengthy one. Victoria hadn’t asked – such enquiries were, for obvious reasons, considered highly inappropriate among Mechwarriors. She took her own controls and began a steady, careful walk out of the ‘Mech Hanger, not wanting to inadvertantly damage any of the Gray Death Legion’s equipment by walking over, or into it. She could see them out of her cockpit’s small frontal window, past the holographic display, but the distortions of height and the narrow field of vision made the primary display more useful even without the overlay of data highlighting the hanger’s navigation beacons, units recognised from the computer’s extensive memory banks and and the necessary targeting data if she decided to unleash the firepower of her Marauder upon them.

Not, of course, that she would do such a thing to a loyal Lyran mercenary unit like the Legion. With her ‘Mech and Kai’s the only active ones in the hanger, they could shatter the backbone of the unit’s BattleMech strength before anyone but the posted guards could react. That was the power placed in the hands of a Mechwarrior: that unopposed by others of their kind they could shatter fortresses and cities and even small armies. Victoria knew better than most the reasons that Inner Sphere academies had such high drop-out rates was the importance of weeding out those who might abuse that power.

“It’s good to be back in the saddle,” she told Kai, kicking the heavy ‘Mech into a lope as she followed him out of the exit and towards the beginning of the gunnery course. As the two Mechs accelerated towards sixty kilometers per hour, they left the heavy ferrocrete surface of the road and followed the trail of footprints left in the peaty soil of the glacial valley by the thousands of ‘Mechs that had followed this trail over the years. “CorCen, this is Kommandant Steiner-Davion with two BattleMechs, now entering the gunnery course. Please confirm readiness.”

“All systems report as ready, Kommandant,” a clipped voice responded. “You will enter the active range thirty seconds from my mark. All targets will be magres or infrared, not visual so don’t rely on vislight scan.” The woman paused. “Mark.”

Turning a corner in the valley, Victoria gripped the two joystick controllers that directed the crosshairs for her weapons. Mounted on the arms of the command couch, rather than configuring them to control the left and right side weapon mounts, she had opted to slave all three of the particle cannons to one of the triggers in her right hand: index and middle fingers for the arm-mounts and the thumb button firing the torso-mounted PPC. Similarly, her left hand joystick controlled the lasers in the same locations. Warning klaxons, so loud that she could hear them even in the sealed cockpit, blared as the course registered two BattleMechs crossing the start line and almost immediately the decoys scattered across the course began to pretend that they were hostile units posing a threat to Victoria and Kai.

The first targets appeared immediately, outcrops of rocks transformed into a Javelin and a Wasp standing on the hillside. Kai was first to fire, being slightly in the lead he was just within reach of his autocannon and the Pontiac roared, tracers slashing into the central chest… and tumbled shells visible exited the rear as the course computer massaged the numbers and concluded a hit there would dramatically overkill the target. Only moments later, Victoria had brought her crosshairs over the Wasp and fired her PPCs, closing each trigger deliberate succession, spacing out the cycle time and the waves of heat that went through her cockpit.

Inside the Marauder air wavered and sweat formed on her skin. Outside, three bolts of lightning tore gouges in the rock. According to the simulation, one shot missed low, but the first had struck the Wasp’s right arm, wrecking the medium laser there and blasting apart armour from the wrist up past the shoulder. Her last shot crashed into the left leg, all but vaporising it and toppling the 20-ton ‘Mech to the floor, unable to stand and missing both its weapons.

Neither of the two Mechwarriors paid it any attention, focusing on the next targets: a lance of Goblin tanks that popped into view, almost in their path.

*Brandishes Hypno-Toad*

You are getting very sleepy... you want to update much more often... you want to continue Star Adder Symphony.

For a semi-random question, what, if any mechs do you see being generally refitted with XL engines in the long-term in this verse?

Yes, you need to update more. It's been a long time since I've enjoyed a BatteTech novel

consequences wrote:For a semi-random question, what, if any mechs do you see being generally refitted with XL engines in the long-term in this verse?

Well the DCMS and FWLM will pretty much go as canon did. The AFFC designs...

Let's go back to SLDF unit designations. The principal designations for units were: Striker (very fast light/medium Mechs), Battle (fast medium/heavy Mechs) and Heavy Assault (slow heavy/assault Mechs). While this doesn't work very well for existing designs, or even refits, designs in the future will be purchased on on the basis of which catagory they fall into. So XL engines will be favored for getting really fast lights and mediums, and for adding more guns to fast (5/8 or 6/9) heavies. Assault Mechs with XL engines should be damn rare - actually, Victoria's going to tear strips off someone the first time she sees one.

There's a thread over on CBT (here) where I've gone through the field refits that will be done by the AFFC. I may do a similar one for the updated factory-variants and newer designs.

Black Pearl Base, Sudeten
Tamar March, Lyran Commonwealth
12 July 3050

“We noticed fairly early that the Clans’ BattleMechs are significantly more advanced than those we field,” Victoria briefed the gathered officers. Thus far the meeting felt quite a bit like defending her thesis at the Nagelring had – although it was probably the other way round. The Nagelring’s curriculum was intended to prepare students for military life after all. “Even more so than those of the Star League in fact. However, they are still BattleMechs and the improvements over the Star League, are incremental, not the enormous jump that they represent against our current standards.” The Junior Officer’s Strategy Board had divided up the areas that they had covered, and Victoria had called dibs on the technical side.

“In general, the principal advances made by the Clans in technology are in two areas: they have structural elements such as reactors, heatsinks and armour that are at least as good as those of the Star League; and they have advanced weapons which are definitely superior to those of the Star League. The former is the principal problem that needs to be addressed.”

“Excuse me - you just said that they are even more advanced in guns than they are in other areas and you think that that’s the lesser problem?” objected Sharon Byran. The Marshal of the Eleventh Lyran Guards had an irritated look on her face.

“Marshal, the solution to someone having better guns than you is one well understood by the Lyran military: use more guns. This is well within our capability to accomplish - and I am not suggesting that we should ignore possible ways to improve our weapons to match those used by the Clans. However, the advanced reactors and heatsinks of the Clans are the real danger because they provide Clan Mechs with improved mobility and enable them to carry more weapons. These represent advantages that we cannot afford to concede to them over an extended conflict.”

“The Clans can field scouts fifty percenty faster than ours, without compromising combat ability. Their heavy and medium combatants can typically operate at least thirty percent faster than ours, again, without any loss in firepower. Their assault ‘Mechs can carry at least one more major weapon system than our equivalent designs and can fire all of them without suffering crippling heat build ups. Fortunately, they appear comparable to those used by the Star League which we are beginning to manufacture.”

“Unfortunately, with some exceptions, these advances are difficult to retrofit into our existing BattleMechs without full rebuilds. Therefore I propose a programme of switching our current production to revised designs that have these technologies included from day one, and the provision of prepared kits that can be issued to update BattleMechs currently in service and put into use without months of work.”

“The core of the refit programme will be to replace fusion reactors with similar models that include improved heatsinks. Secondarily to this, within reason, weapons will be replaced with what Star League era equipment we have. In some cases, where ‘Mechs no longer require supplemental heatsinks, weight freed up will be used for additional weapons or armour. The majority of our heavy and assault Mechs can benefit from such updates, as will many medium designs, and should see an average of a twenty percent increase in firepower simply because they can make full use of their firepower.”

The realities of heat management were ingrained in every Mechwarrior and those present could easily imagine how much easier that would be with the proposed increased heatsink capacity. One point caught their attention however.

“You’re talking about pulling heatsinks out of ‘Mechs?” asked Byran. “How will that help anything?”

Victoria smiled thinly. “Marshal, you saw my Marauder out on the gunnery range last week. How would you compare its firepower to that of, let’s say, an Awesome?”

“Yes, yes,” Byran waved the point off. “You’re not the first Mechwarrior to fit three PPCs to a Marauder, you know. I don’t like to think how many extra heatsinks you had to fit.”

“None.”

“Pardon?” asked Byran.

“My ‘Mech carries the same tonnage of heatsinks as that it did when it was built as a -3R model,” Victoria told her. “It hasn’t lost any speed for the modifications, or any armour - but it carries the firepower of an Awesome and it can fire all three of them repeatedly without causing a dangerous heat build up while an Awesome needs to stagger fire, typically in a 3-2-2 pattern to control the heat. So at long ranges, I have twenty-eight percent more effective firepower than a Mech five tons heavier and sixteen percent slower. Now, it’s not an unalloyed success: the increased bulk of the heatsinks required a significant rebuild of the torso. The lessons learned from that can be applied here: the engineers at NAIS could have trimmed four tons from the design and about a month of work by keeping the autocannon and reducing the overall number of heatsinks.”

“So, to recap: for this year, we’ll have to fight with what we have. From next year, we should have limited numbers of upgrades to existing Mechs. The year after, new production will begin to trickle in. We don’t need to crush the clans, or even to drive them back, desirable as those goals are. What we must do is to slow them down and buy three years to upgrade our forces. That’s not going to be easy - but it’s a realistic goal. Anything more ambitious... isn’t.”

“I see that you mean what you said about a long term solution,” Morgan noted.

“There is no magic bullet that will counter all their advantages,” Victoria told him. “This is the reality of our production issues. Prototypes for the new equipment will take until the end of the year to produce, at best. The most optimistic projections place large scale manufacture of advanced ‘Mechs in 3052, considering the dislocation of refitting our production lines. Fortunately there are some factories ready to go and the field refits should bridge the gap, but for now we’re going to be fighting with what we have.”

“If it isn’t going to help now, then why are you bringing it up,” Byran asked.

“Marshal, there’s an old story about Napolean – a french dictator back around the early eighteenth century,” clarifed Victoria in case someone was unfamiliar with that chapter of history. “The tale goes that he ordered trees planted along all the major roads to shade his troops as they marched. Someone objected that it would take ten years for the trees to be tall enough to do so. Napolean nodded and told him: ‘Correct, so we should start right away’. If we don’t start adapting to the Clans right now then we may wind up defeated before we manage it.”

Morgan cleared his throat. “Your plans seem well thought out, Kommandant and I can see that you have hardly left a stone unturned in your efforts to check them – I think I’ve had complaints from every regiment here about your co-opting their technical personnel. However, putting your proposal into practise is beyond the scope of this conference. It will be forwarded to the correct department for evaluation, and if approved, to be expedited.”

Victoria lowered her head in acceptance. Nothing more to say – I’ve gotten a lot further than I thought I would with that. “I will hand over the next stage of the report to Leftenant Allard-Liao,” she said out loud.

Kai stood and Victoria could see signs of nervousness in him, although he masked them well. “I am told,” he said, “that the Senior Officer’s Group indentified the same strategic problem that we did: that is, of having no way to anticipate when and where the invaders will strike. The action on the rimward area of the Commonwealth has provided us with no pattern for attacks. The first wave hit twelve planets, then the next reduced to four. It’s hard to say what the logic of that is, so we decided not to try to anticipate.”

There was a ripple of surprise through the room. “We all know that there is no such thing as a true interstellar front. There are sufficient stars that lack colonisable worlds that it is invariably possible for fleets and supply lines to penetrate deeply into what is considered enemy territory with very little chance of interception. Because of the risk of drive failure, most transit routes are planned through inhabited systems so help can be obtained in emergencies, but…” He looked over at his uncle. “Colonel Allard will recall, I believe, that the Kell Hounds used an uncolonised star as a recharge point twenty-three years ago in the rescue of the Silver Eagle. Marshal, you and General Redburn did much the same during the First Kathil Uhlans’ invasion of Sian at the end of the Fourth Succession War.”

General Winton of the Eridani Light Horse shook her head impatiently. “Yes Leftenant, we are all aware of this. It’s because of such systems that we have no way of knowing where the invaders will strike.”

Victoria half-tensed to speak, but forced herself to relax. Kai doesn’t need my help to do this.

“Agreed,” Kai told the mercenary general. “They attack inhabited worlds because they know that we will be there to defend them, but the reverse is true: if we intend to seek battle against them, we don’t have to guess at where they will attack. We know where they are.” He pointed at the map of the Tamar Pact, where red stars marked out worlds fallen to the invaders. “They must assuredly have forces upon the worlds that they have already taken. Garrisons, and perhaps even supply bases. If we take the fight to them there, then they will have to reinforce those worlds, turn their offensive back to consolidate their positions… and buy the time that Kommandant Steiner-Davion has stated we will need.”

Morgan nodded thoughtfully. “You’re assuming that their garrisons will be inferior to their spearhead units?”

Kai shook his head. “It’s not an assumption, sir. We don’t have comprehensive intelligence from the conquered worlds because ComStar has cut them off, but MIIO has still managed to gather some information and in the cases where they have gathered intelligence on the rear areas, they are reporting smaller unit sizes, regular infantry not the Clans’ battle armour, older ‘Mechs – sometimes even reconditioned salvage from our fallen. It’s unclear how wide the gap is, but there is definitely a gap.”

Conversation switched to debating the merits of that information but Victoria ignored it, instead focusing on her cousin, who had similarly withdrawn from the debate, fingers steepled before him as he considered the proposal. Looking down the table, Morgan met her eyes and raised one eyebrow questioningly. Recognising the discreet enquiry, Victoria moved her hands to point slightly in Kai’s direction and lowered her eyes modestly. No, Morgan, he’s not my mouthpiece. It was his idea and I happen to support it.

Satisfied, the redheaded Marshal tapped the table with one hand, commanding attention. “Leftenant Allard-Liao’s analysis and strategy are interesting, and at the very least, unusual. Not bad for just over a month of study and work. By the end of our time here, I expect a working proposal concern-” Morgan broke off as the door to the conference room opened to admit an apologetic looking staff aide, who handed him a small yellow slip of paper.

It only took Morgan a moment to absorb the message and he nodded to dismiss the aide before turning back to the table. “Our time to plan has just been curtailed, my friends,” he said grimly. “I want a proposal for your plan, including recommendations for units used and targets in fourteen days, Leftenant. The invaders just hit Rasalhague.”

A cold thrill went through Victoria. A third wave so soon – and striking at the capital of the Free Rasalhague Republic. The Clans were raising the stakes and it would take everything the Inner Sphere had just to stay at the table.

Brilliantly done so far.

As a former P-Hawk Battlemech pilot, I'm really enjoying this, although I do have one question....
*gets out box marked "Instant Bunker -- rated for 45000*F flames, and pushes a button on the front. A concrete bunker sets up by itself. She stands within easy leap of the armored door*

What's your thoughts on LAMs?

They have their uses.

This stuff is quite good, keep writing please!

drakensis wrote:They have their uses.

That is a better response than most I've gotten

Pity my Ex got all the 'forbidden' Mechs in the divorce.

Black Pearl Base, Sudeten
Tamar March, Lyran Commonwealth
21 July 3050

In the end it took eleven days to bring the proposal to what Victoria, Kai and Galen considered an acceptable level to be submitted to the Senior Officers’ Strategy Board. Strict discipline maintained by Galen ensured that Victoria got at least five hours sleep every night but otherwise the pace was heavy enough that waiting outside the conference room as their plan was dissected and evaluated felt strange, with nothing left to do. Kai faced the wait with stoic calm, but Galen’s reserve cracked enough that he walked restlessly back and forth across the antechamber.

“Don’t worry, Galen,” Kai offered from where he sat, next to Victoria. “The plan’s a good one. It’ll work and I’m sure that they’ll see that.”

“Says the man who tore us apart in that last simulation,” noted Victoria, not looking up from the documentation she was leafing through. For a change, it wasn’t military in nature – instead she was catching up with the thousand and one political hot potatoes that her parents were juggling this week. Mostly it was tedious, but there were occasional high points like hearing about her distant cousin, Conrad Davion, being assigned as a military attache to the Free Worlds League. “Wasn’t that your idea, Galen?”

“It was supposed to be a worst case scenario,” Galen argued, half-preparing himself for similar commentary from the officers inside the briefing room. “And I have to admit, you came through there,” he admitted, looking at Kai.

“Victoria manged to escape offplanet with one intact regiment,” the Leftenant disagreed. “Given that that particular simulation had everything conceivable go wrong even before I did anything – extreme weather scattering your landings and causing heavy losses – enemy numbers in a larger concentration than we’ve seen anywhere in the invasion so far… Well, I was impressed that you managed that much, and let’s be brutally honest: the information obtained even in a near-disaster like that would be worth the losses.”

Victoria shrugged off the praise. “I had very little to do with it,” she noted, declining to comment on the cold – but necessary – dismissal of thousands of casualties as acceptable. “Let’s be honest - we didn’t pick our target because we could hold it so sooner or later we’ll have to retreat anyway. I’d rather practise that now.”

“However long we can hold it,” said Kai. “I’ve no doubts that it’ll slow the Jade Falcon’s advance in the future.”

“You have no doubts, I have no doubts, but that leaves -”

Galen was cut off as the door to the briefing room slid open to reveal General Andrew Redburn. “We have some questions about your plan,” he told them. “If you will accompany me…”

Victoria dog-eared her place in the reports and closed the folder, tucking it under one arm before following Redburn inside. Redburn returned to his seat next to Morgan on the far side of the large square table from the seats that had been left open for the three junior officers. Various unit commanders sat along the sides of the table, mostly still engrossed in studying the proposed counterattack.

Morgan closed the cover of his copy of the battleplan, drumming his fingers against it for a moment. “Before we start, I’d like to say that all of us are impressed with the extent of the work that you and your team have put into this document. It is clear and concise. We especially appreciate the extensive adversarial testing you did on it and the number of contingencies included for aborting the operation if need be. This is work I would have expected from a cabal of hoary old veterans, not young officers like yourselves. Commendations have been recorded for those who contributed in this effort.”

“Very kind of you, sir,” Victoria observed coolly. “I gather, however, that the proposed plan of action is not entirely satisfactory?”

The Marshal nodded solemnly. “Your plan calls for the allocation of both Kell Hound regiments and two RCTs, the Ninth Federated-Commonwealth and the Tenth Lyran Guards,” he pointed out in a low voice. “Moving those units and the necessary support material and personnel will take forty-five percent of oour available JumpShip and Dropship resources, That severely limits my ability to move forces to the worlds the invaders are likely to hit in the next wave.”

Victoria nodded. “I consider that to be one of the more substantial benefits to the plan.”

“Would you care to expand upon that point, Kommandant?” asked Sharon Byran snidely.

“Of course,” she replied. “The reasoning is quite simple: as we cannot predict where they attack, we cannot concentrate sufficent forces to prevent them from taking their objectives. Therefore units committed to that purpose will at best be left sidelined and at worst will be fighting the invaders on their terms, not ours. While it is politically necessary to commit those forces anyway, at this stage any gains in time and attrition of the invaders numbers are not in proportion to what we will lose. Minimising the number of troops in that situation, with the politically acceptable excuse that the shipping is needed for a counter attack, is in my view desirable.”

“You’re just writing off dozens of worlds,” Byran snapped, half-standing.

Victoria did not rise to the bait. “The goal of my strategy is to defeat the Clans. If that means trading space for time… so be it. We can retake worlds, Marshal, once we are ready. But right now, regrettably, we cannot hold them off. Throwing troops away in vain attempt to stop the Clans head on is not a valid strategy.”

“That’s enough, both of you,” Morgan said firmly. He waited until the commander of the Eleventh Lyran Guards had returned to her seat before continuing. “I do not entirely agree with your logic, Kommandant, but the argument is noted. Moving along to the next point: what are your reasons for selecting these units for the operation?”

Galen spoke up. “The Kell Hounds were selected because they are one of the best multi-regiment forces available, meaning no disrespect to the Eridani Light Horse,” he added with a nod to General Winston. “And they are also extremely motivated to fight the Clans, given their previous encounter with Clan Wolf last year in the Periphery. The Ninth Federated-Commonwealth and the Tenth Lyran Guards are less seasoned but as relatively newly formed units, their equipment is largely newer, if not more advanced, than those of other units. Unless the opposition is drastically more numerous or capable than intelligence reports suggest, this would give them a relatively less risky blooding against the Clans.”

“There is also a further rationale behind including the Tenth Lyran Guards,” Victoria pointed out. She grimaced. “This plan is strongly associated with me. While I believe it to be less risky than a defensive strategy, if I was not willing to risk myself by participating, then the morale of the units sent will suffer. My presence indicates my confidence in the operation: while the troops might harbor concerns about my competence, those will be far less of a concern than if they believe I will send troops out to fight and not be willing to share their risks.”

“And if I order the Tenth Lyran Guards to stay here on Sudeten, while the Eleventh Guards replace them in the plan?” Morgan asked.

Victoria shrugged. “I advise against that, Marshal, but ultimately that would be your decision to make.” She met his gaze evenly. “It is my duty to give you my advice, and then to obey your orders whether you take that advice or not. And I take my duty seriously.”

“I agree with the plan,” Dan Allard said from his seat next to General Winton. “And so do all the Kell Hounds senior officers. Janos Vandermeer -” Captain of the Kell Hounds’ long-serving jumpship “- assures me that there is a viable pirate point deep in the system that will allow us to avoid the Zenith and Nadir points that might be guarded by Clan warships.”

Saying nothing, Morgan steepled his fingers, a gesture that Victoria recognised as an indication that he was weighing options that he found unpalatable. She met his silence with composure, meeting his questioning gaze with as much confidence as she could muster.

“You’ve made your case in very coldblooded terms,” the Marshal said at last. “I hope that you will be equally coldblooded in recognising if it is time to abandon your plan and withdraw.”

“You’re approving the plan?” asked Hauptmann-General Andrea Kaulkas, the commander of the Tenth Lyran Guards.

Morgan nodded. “I am. The plan’s the best of all the options we’ve considered, but it isn’t flawless. I want the following revisions. Increase ammunition supplies by another twenty percent and rewrite the rules of engagement with greater stress on avoiding civilian casualties. And Victoria, you are personally to prepare papers indemnifying the Kell Hounds for losses on this mission.”

Victoria nodded, noting down the requirements.

“Colonel Allard will act as force commander, Victoria, but I’m making you responsible for the lives of every man and woman on this mission – in these regiments, in the local guerilla forces on Somerset and in your cousin Adam’s volunteer force.” He stared at her bleakly. “Think of it a taste of the burden you will assume when you take the throne.”

Jumpship Meschach, Camelot Command, Dark Nebula
Tamar March, Lyran Commonwealth
16 September 3050

“Blake’s Blood,” Hauptmann Miles Hawkins exclaimed as the shuttle carrying the Somerset Strikers’ command team approached the flotilla of jumpships that had appeared only an hour ago near the abandoned Star League facility. “When your cousin said she’d brought the cavalry, she wasn’t kidding.”

“I had my doubts when she signalled us to meet her here, Hawk,” Kommandant Adam Steiner admitted. “But I have to give her credit: she must have done some fast talking to persuade her parents that they should let come out here to the middle of the occupied worlds with an army like that.”

“I guess the little princess wouldn’t be allowed out without that many people to defend her,” Hawk grumbled. “No offense, Kommandant, but she’s just what I thought you were at first: a noble brat who got her rank because of her parents.”

“She graduated near the top of her class at the Nagelring,” objected Adam’s aide, Leftenant Rachel Spector, as the shuttle closed towards the small bay of the jumpship they had been ordered to report aboard. The junior officer in the little deputation had taught there alongside Adam in the dim and distant days before the Clans arrived – all of six months now. “In fact, she was in same class as Ciro.”

Hawk’s face twisted bitterly and he resisted the urge to spit. “Yeah, well that says everything in my book,” he retorted and an uneasy silence filled the shuttle. They had been mourning the apparent death of the young leftenant Ciro Rameriz when they last encountered the Princess of the Federated Commonwealth, herself retreating to Sudeten after the defeat of her regiment on Trell One. Now when they met her they would have to report that her classmate’s status had changed from Killed in Action to one far more sinister: traitor!

“It is grevious news,” volunteered the only passenger in the compartment who was not part of the Armed Forces of the Federated Commonwealth. “And the consequences would be far reaching if Prince Hohiro of the Draconis Combine – or an individual of equal rank – were to be persuaded similarly while in captivity.”

Adam flinched. The last reports from Somerset suggested that his older brother Andrew was a prisoner of the same Clan, the Jade Falcons, who had induced Ciro to defect. And if Victoria Steiner-Davion were to change sides, then the repercussions could tear the Federated Commonwealth apart, just as a movement within the Draconis Combine had tried to raise up a pretender to that throne while Hohiro Kurita languished in a Smoke Jaguar prison. “We can’t let that happen,” he replied, sharing a significant look with the man who had spoken.

Franklin Sakamoto was the man who those Combine revolutionaries had seen as their prospective puppet – and when he rejected the role, it was Adam who had risked the Striker’s mission: the return to Somerset, to rescue Franklin from both the betrayed rebels and from the Combine’s Internal Security Force, who were of the firm opinion that the bastardborn grandson of Takashi Kurita was a loose end better cut off forever. Now he sat back in his seat, closing his eyes as the shuttle settled into the clamps that held it secure within the bay. No pilot – and Franklin was a good one – enjoyed being passenger to another, but Adam had to wonder if there was another reason that the engimatic merchant had broken off eye contact.

The boatbay crew of the jumpship were obviously a well practised team for it was less than two minutes before the hatch cracked open and Adam was able to lead his people out and onto the deck where a greeting party were assembling, led by a familiar looking redhead.

“Welcome aboard the Meschach,” Victoria Steiner-Davion greeted them. “I hope we didn’t call you away from anything important.”

Adam shook his head. “We were just one jump away from getting back to Somerset, but you’re not the first person to interrupt us at that point.”

Victoria chuckled. “So I gather. Anyway, introduction time: I’m sure that you all remember Hauptmann Cox,” she said, waving to him. “The handsome devil beside him is Leftenant Kai Allard, an old friend from NAIS. Kai, this is my cousin Kommandnat Adam Steiner who taught at the Nagelring during my final year there. Leftenant Rachel Spector, his Tactical Officer; Hauptmann Miles Hawkins, lance commander; and Franklin Sakamoto… entrepeneur.”

“Entrepeneur?” Kai asked.

Galen chuckled darkly. “I think her highness is too kind. The word is ‘smuggler’.”

“A useful person to know, when one seeks to move without notice,” observed Kai equably, eyeing the other asian’s calloused hands and stance. He said nothing about any other conclusions that he was drawing though.

“I’m pleased to meet you,” Adam offered Kai his hand. “A little mystified as to why you’re all out here, but pleased.”

A smile crossed Victoria’s face. “You didn’t think I’d forgotten you, did you?” she asked. “I didn’t send you a message to meet here to prevent you from reaching Somerset… I’m just inviting myself and a few friends along.”

Adam’s eyes went wide but it was Rachel who was the first of the Strikers to respond. “A few friends? You’ve got enough ships here for two regimental combat teams.”

“Well estimated, Leftenant. That’s exactly what I’ve brought: the Tenth Lyran Guards and the Ninth Federated Commonwealth, along with both regiments of the Kell Hounds. I can’t promise we can hold Somerset forever, but we’ve got over four hundred ‘Mechs, six hundred tanks, more infantry and sharp sticks than I can count – I wouldn’t be surprised if there was a nuclear weapon stashed in some dark corner – so we can make a pretty good go of it.”

The Strikers mood was already shifting as she spoke. “Sounds like Clan Jade Falcon’s going to have a bellyache soon,” Hawk chuckled.

Franklin nodded slowly. “One thing concerns me, Princess Steiner-Davion,” he said thoughtfully. “With such a formidable force, why did you arrange to also include the Strikers. Surely one company would make little difference to your plans?”

“Sharp,” Galen noted. “Let’s just say that Victoria remembered something that your fearless leader always says.”

“‘Information is ammuntion’?” Hawkins quoted disgustedly.

Victoria chuckled. “If he starts loading ammuntion into his head, remember to get pictures,” she joked. “But there’s some merit to that: while I have some reports smuggled from Somerset by the Intelligence Secretariat, there’s nothing like having someone on the ground. Like, say a company of Mechwarriors most of whom come from the planet in the first place…”

Adam folded his arms thoughtfully. “What do you have in mind?” he asked, mind already working.

His distant cousin gestured towards the hatch leading deeper into the jumpship. “Let’s go talk this over on the Barbarossa. It’ll be easier to brief you with a proper tactical display.”

Dropship Barbarossa, Camelot Command, Dark Nebula
Tamar March, Lyran Commonwealth
24 September 3050

Victoria awoke the instant the hatch to her stateroom slid open, spilling light from the corridor into the compact chamber. Her fingers tightened around the butt of the Mauser and Gray holdout under her pillow for a moment before she recognised Galen silhouetted against the light. “Katana?” she asked, looking automatically at the red numerals on the bedside clock, set to Somerset’s clock and Somerset Military Academy’s timezone. The sun would be setting there soon.

“We got a fax,” Galen nodded. “Phase One is a success.”

Pushing aside her blanket, Victoria scrambled out of the bunk. With the entire force on a high readiness, she’d slept in her mechwarrior shorts and undershirt, so it was the work of a moment to pull on her boots and start buckling her field kit on, slipping the small pistol into its waterproof holster. “Are there any changes to the schedule?”

Galen shook his head. “Colonel Allard wants full status checks in one hour for all units. That’s still the final deadline: After that, we can jump at any time. No turning back.”

“Adam and his people are on their way down to Somerset on a captured dropship,” Victoria said flatly. “They’re already past the point of no return. If we break off – if I abandon them – then they’ll never get off Somerset again.”

The blond mechwarrior nodded. “I understand, Kommandant. But one of the reasons he’s going ahead is so that we can be warned if the situation is not as we expect. He wouldn’t want you to do anything foolish if to try to rescue him.”

Victoria ran her fingers through her red hair. It was getting longer and she chided herself for not taking the time to cut it back on Sudeten. “I’m aware of that, Galen. And I’ve no intention of writing letters to the next of kin for any more of our boys and girls than I have to. But I haven’t come this far to fail either.”

Pulling a on a loose jumpsuit over her mechwarrior gear she was still zipping it as she joined him at the door. “Let’s get our people mounted up. We might have time to get ready between the jump point and the landing zone… but only if things go to plan.”

“I take it that the Nagelring teaches the first law of battles then?” Galen chuckled.

“‘The enemy’s first target is your plan’?” Victoria asked as they descended the cramped stairwell between the quarters for the Barbarossa’s onboard Mechwarriors and the bunkrooms installed nearby. Although an Overlord-class transport typically carried thirty-six BattleMechs, the forty-strong battalions of the Tenth Lyran Guards’ Mech regiment had overspilled, forcing them to divide themselves between four of the ships and while the other two battalions had managed to remain mostly concentrated, with only a lance each detached to share Leftenant General Milstein’s Command Overlord, Victoria had had to detach an entire company to fit her battalion aboard the Barbarossa, which had been stripped of eight mechbays years ago, making room for an infantry battalion.

“Well that’s not quite the way it was phrased at the Tamar War College,” Galen admitted, “But I think you’ve got the same idea.” He banged his fist against the hatch of Hauptmann Rachel Meisler’s stateroom while Victoria did the same for Hauptmann Charlie Krautmann’ waking the two company commanders.

“Full readiness report in an hour,” Victoria told them briskly once the two officers were awake and at their doors. “Have everyone mounted up and ready to go in forty. And...” She broke off and looked up as a grizzled infantryman wearing the triangular markings of a sergeant major started down the stairs. “And make sure that any of Kommandant Riley’s boys and girls are returned to their unit,” she added. A young infantryman had missed his bunk inspection and been found asleep with one of her Mechwarriors the previous month. The demerits for both of them had probably been less painful than the jokes at the couple’s expense. “Has Kommandant Riley been brought up to date?” Victoria asked the sergeant major.

“He has, Kommandant Davion,” the man confirmed, sidling past the little group while they edged over to give him space.

“See you on the Mechdecks in forty then,” Victoria told her officers and headed for the next flight of stairs. As she walked she could not help but to review what was going less than thirty light years away on Somerset.

Rather than executing a combat drop on the academy, which intelligence had pinpointed as being the nervecentre of the plant’s defences under the Jade Falcons, just as it had been for the Federated Commonwealth, Adam had come up with a better plan: seize one of the dropships being used by the Clan’s to collect salvage from the brief orbital battle that had preceded the Jade Falcon’s landing. The dropship could be used to ferry down two teams picked from the Somerset Strikers, one to inflitrate the Academy and sabotage the early warning system that could alert the Jade Falcons to the arrival of the Federated Commonwealth army, and the other equipped with the prototype battle armour they had been testing against the Clans, to disrupt the defenders on site.

Familiar with the academy from his own days there, Adam Steiner had insisted on leading the first team, with the second under the command of Franklin Sakamoto. Victoria was sure that the decision had as much to do with the other use of Somerset Military Academy: a prison camp for captured AFFC soldiers who had refused to assimilate into the Clans. The Federated Commonwealth owed those brave men and women, and Victoria intended to repay them for their loyalty.

Parting ways from Galen, Victoria took advantage of the zero-gravity of the Barbarossa as it lay docked to the Meschach, and simply kicked off from the deck, sending herself flying across the lower deck, fast but not uncontrollably so as she ascended, catching hold of the railing on the gantry that pinned her Marauder into place while the dropship manuvered. Only a moment behind her, Galen was heading for his Crusader and on the other side of her, Mechwarrior David Jewell was boarding a Wolverine. Probably Galen had alerted the rest of the command lance before waking her – taking the initiative like a good aide should.

Sliding into the hatch of her ‘Mech, Victoria began to run through the readiness checks. She’d have to be ready before most of her Mechwarriors, to assimilate the reports of her subordinates and make her own to General Milstein, so best to start now. Once the Meschach and the other jumpships delivered the flotilla to Somerset’s orbit, the dropships would be making for their landing sites immediately – and if trouble arose, any of the force’s battalions might be called on to execute combat drops to secure those landing sites ahead of the dropships arrival.

And I can feel the tension building to the drop. Don't keep us waiting!

Somerset Military Academy, Somerset
Tamar March, Lyran Commonwealth
25 September 3050

Victoria’s first view of Somerset Military Academy was as she marched her Marauder down the ramp and out of the Barbarossa. Dramatic as it might have been for her to lead the combat drop personally, the vanguard regiment had been the Second Kell Hounds. “I like what Adam’s done with the place,” she observed, pointing with one weapon pod at the Federated Commonwealth flag flapping in the morning light over the buildings.

“It adds a certain something,” agreed Galen as he followed in his Crusader. “As do those heaps.” He used one of his ‘Mech’s hands to indicate the still smoking wreckage of the handful of Clan ‘Mechs that had been posted here at the Academy before the Kwaidan landed the Strikers ‘Mechs to complete the capture of the facility.

“Oh I like them,” Victora concurred. “Check that they get loaded onto one of the ships – we’ll want as much salvage as we can get while we’re here. One Vidar, a pair of Freya and… haven’t seen them before but those two look like Hunchbacks, except for having two cannon. That’s a good start – damn good work by Adam.” She said nothing about the other ‘Mechs on the ground, clearly having fallen in the process of overcoming resistance.

Already infantrymen swarming out of the Barbarossa were joining forces with men and women in the tattered remnants of cadet uniforms, taking control of the campus and herding prisoners into improvised cells. Standing protectively over the students were the Somerset Strikers’ surviving BattleMechs. She could see Adam’s Axman next to the old Awesome he had piloted at the academy and wondered who Adam had tapped to pilot the older ‘Mech. Completing the remnant lance were Hawkins’ Daboku, captured during the War of 3039 she had learned, and a Bushwhacker – one of the handful of advanced prototypes given to Adam for evaluation in the field. Although battered, the medium ‘Mech had survived the fierce battle without serious damage, which spoke well of it.

“Welcome to Somerset, your highness,” Adam’s voice greeted her across the local communication frequency. “As you can see, the reception was a little warmer than we had hoped.”

“Did you lose anyone?”

Adam’s voice was relieved. “No one’s dead, although a couple will need a few weeks in the medical bay. There were some close calls though.”

“You’ve got to be kidding me!” another voice cut in. “What idiot let little Vicky Steiner-Davion get anywhere near the Clans?”

“Excuse me?” Victoria asked sweetly. “‘Let’? What colour is the sky in your universe, attardé?”

“Yeah, well I don’t speak Davion, princess, but the way I hear it you got your butt spanked on Trell One and ran away.”

Adam coughed. “Your highness, may I present my brother, Kommandant Andrew Steiner, who isn’t exactly up to speed on things yet.” His microphone cut out for a moment and Victoria could hear his voice relayed via his brother’s microphone, clearly directed by a private channel. “Andrew, she’s the one who convinced the Archon to launch a counterattack. Without her you’d still be rotting in a cell.”

Victoria checked her status board. Both companies from the Barbarossa were fanning out around her position, and the company that had been with General Milstein were now making their way towards the location. Thus far everything was going to plan. What the hell is Murphy up to? If a problem hasn’t arisen yet then whatever does go wrong, it’s going to be a doozey, she thought. The possibility that nothing would go wrong was too remote to even consider: this was a professional military operation. “I wasn’t expecting you to do all the hard work, Adam. Give me a quick rundown.”

The younger of the two Steiner brothers – Which could get confusing: three Kommandant Steiners in close proximity. – opened his microphone again. “We infiltrated Somerset without difficulty,” he reported. “No one suspected a thing when we entered the camp, pretending to be Clan military police transporting new prisoners and a technical crew combing through the Academy’s facilities for salvage. Unfortunately, when the orbital sensor net was disabled the ‘technical crew’ were called in to repair it and the base commander recognised them.”

“An old friend?” Victoria asked him.

“Kristen Redmond. Her rank is Star Colonel but she’d been posted here in disgrace after we held her captive for a while earlier this year,” Adam explained. “She’s locked up with the other prisoners for now. Anyway, she guessed I wouldn’t have sent them in alone so she set them up to be executed and threatened to do so if I didn’t come forward.”

“That’s when he called in his friends in the shiny armour,” Andrew cut in. “I haven’t seen a better sight in some time – except for the family Awesome perhaps.”

“I take it Sakamoto-san and his team managed to keep things from boiling over until the Kwaidan landed and your Mechs could join the fun,” Victoria pieced together. “Good work. Still, there have to be more than five ‘Mechs on the planet.”

“Thirty to forty,” Andrew confirmed. “Their main base is near Old Exeter, almost sixty kilometers away.”

“That means they could be here any time,” Galen realised. “They have to know that something’s going on here by now.”

“We’ll assume so,” Victoria told him and checked her tactical displays. “Second Kell Hounds are providing a good perimeter for the LZ but I’ll advise General Kaulkas to have the 19th Tharkad Cavalry Regiment move out to screen the routes from the city towards us.”

“They’re already moving out, Kommandant,” the Hauptmann-General advised her, cutting onto the channel directly. “But good thinking. I’m assigning your battalion to hold the Academy while the Strikers load their salvage and get every bit of intelligence they can. Get all the cadets ready to board the dropships as well in case things go sour.”

“Your orders are understood,” Victoria confirmed, unsurprised. The operation would never have been accepted if it had put her in obvious danger: if nothing else, it would have reeked of showboating. As the least experienced regiment, the Lyran Guards were acting as the main reserve force and covering the LZ was the sort of necessary but boring work that could be done while they waited to be called in.

Andrew Steiner seemed amused by the posting however. “You know anyone would think that the Kell Hounds didn’t trust her on their flanks,” he observed to his brother, apparently ignoring the fact that the frequency was an open one that every officer in Victoria’s battalion was listening too, in case the Strikers needed to call in one of their ‘Mechs to help with moving something heavy.

It was not necessary to defend herself however, as someone else jumped to her defense. “She’s got as many kills against the Clans as you do, Andrew Steiner,” snapped Rachel Spector from somewhere out of sight. “And the Kell Hounds don’t just trust her with their flank, they’re trusting her to cover their backs in case you hadn’t noticed while you were complaining. I don’t know what’s got into you!”

There was an embarassed silence on the communications frequency before Franklin Sakamoto diplomatically changed the subject, requiring assistance in loading one of the fallen Clan Mechs onto a heavy trailer.

“It’s quiet,” Galen observed quietly on a private channel after an hour. “I can’t believe that the Clans haven’t realised that we’re here yet.”

“I don’t believe it,” agreed Victoria. “Which means that they’re probably not going to conveniently run headlong into the Kell Hounds like a band of antiquated samurai. They’re thinking.”

Galen chuckled humourlessly. “Wasn’t that what made Theodore Kurita’s new regiments so dangerous? Thinking?”

In her cockpit Victoria frowned and then switched over the the Strikers’ command channel. “Adam, I’ve got a suspicion that the Clans are getting sneaky. How fast could you get the orbital sensor net up and running?”

“The orbital net?” Adam asked in surprise. “You think… actually, you’re right. I’ll find out.”

A light lit up on Victoria’s console. “Get back to me, Adam,” she ordered and changed channel. “Kommandant Steiner-Davion here,” she responded to the signal.

“It’s Janos Vandermeer,” crackled the voice of the Kell Hound’s long standing jumpship commander. “I’m relaying this through the Nuada Argetlan,” he added to clarify why the signal was from a ground station and not the jumpship flotilla in orbit. “We’re picking up something big up here and it’s heading in your general direction. Best guess is that it knows we’re here and doesn’t want you to reach us.”

“When you say big, Captain, how big do you mean?” Victoria asked with a sinking sensation. Tell me it’s just a dropship.

Vandermeer’s voice was resigned. “Best estimate is twelve hundred meters long and it’s not exactly built like a needle. Simple maths puts it at a megatonne easy.”

“Understood Captain.” Victoria bit back several swear words. It would be a week before the jumpships were ready to go anywhere and that meant that they would be easy prey. So easy that the Clans probably expected to simply pick them off once the ground troops were dealt with. “I’ll do what I can.”

A warship. And it sounds like a big brute – not many of those were more than a kilometre long. Probably manuvering for a geostationary orbit over the Academy.

“Kommandant Steiner-Davion to all officers,” she announced on the local broadcast. “The weather report just came back with an increased chance of raining Clan ‘Mechs and orbital artillery.”

Since the conflict on Somerset is taking a while to piece together, odd ideas have crossed my mind. Here's one of the more harmless:

[center]Here's fourteen C-bills on the drum
For those who'll volunteer to come
To list and fight the foe today
Across the stars and far away

[Chorus:]
'Cross the stars and o'er the main
To Tamar, Capella and Skye
Vickie commands and we obey
Across the stars and far away

Through smoke and fire and shot and shell
Unto the very walls of hell
We shall stand and we shall stay
Across the stars and far away

[chorus]

Now though I travel far from Skye
A part of me shall still remain
For you are with me night and day
*And* Across the stars and far away

[chorus]

So fall in lads behind the drum
With Colours blazing like the sun
Along the road to come-what-may
Across the stars and far away

[chorus]

When evil stalks upon the land
I'll nyther hold nor stay me' hand
But fight to win a better day
Across the stars and far away

[chorus]

If I should fall to rise no more
As many comrades did before
Ask the pipes and drums to play
Across the stars and far away

[chorus]

Let Kings and tyrants come and go
I'll stand ajudged by what I know
A soldier's life I'll ne'er gainsay
Across the stars and far away

[chorus][/center]

There are supposed to be btech songs out in battletechnology. I think I got a couple of electronic copies:D

And great story!

I would just like to point out that lostech era technology and mechs were making their way to field units in 3050. As you point out however, it was the introduction of field refit kits that "probably" was key to upgrading units to fight against the Clans.........

And there is an interesting quandary. When Warriors Legacy and the Jade Falcons were first introduced, the concept of second line clan mechs had not been invented yet. Even the Hunchback IIC. So, the PGCs featured in those novels were star league era mechs.