StarDestroyer.Net BBS

BattleTech: Scorched Earth #1
Tides of Fire
by:
Steve Garrett Jr.


Prologue

"Turning and turning in the widening gyre..." - William Butler Yeats, "The Second Coming"



DropShip Wolf's Claw, Outbound
Arc-Royal System, Arc-Royal Defense Cordon, Lyran Alliance
31 July 3058

The infinite blackness of space filled the cold eyes of Daphne Vickers, the newly appointed Loremaster of the Wolf Clan, while she stared out through a porthole. She focused, trying to think if any of the distant stars she saw could be the one she had lived under, a thousand light years away in the home territory of the Clans.
Returning to Morges, she thought glumly, recalling the havoc of the battlefield where the Wolves and the Kell Hounds had demolished two Falcon Galaxies. Myself and my fellow Wolves have lost our homes. If not for ilKhan Ulric's call for us to maintain the defense of the Inner Sphere, as is demanded by the Kerenskys' original writings, we may have had a mutiny by now.
The chaos of the Refusal War was still settling itself down, even after all these months. The Wolves, her Wolves, had broken from the rest of the Clans. They had remained true to the ideals of Aleksandr Kerensky, that the Star League Defense Force and it's descendants should be the guardians of the Inner Sphere, not the bringers of it's destruction in the name of that Star League. Ulric Kerensky and Natasha Kerensky were among the dead, having given their lives for the Warden cause. And their blood and the blood of other Wolf warriors had bought the Wardens what was a victory within defeat. The Jade Falcons had technically won the Trial of Refusal, but it had mauled them severely. Severely enough that even though the Truce of Tukkayid had been abrogated, the Falcons were in no position to take advantage of it. Their losses had been so total that they had to make their recent invasion of the Lyran Alliance to bloody new units of trainee warriors rushed into deployment to recover their crippling losses. They had even turned to freeborn warriors to fill out their numbers, something almost unheard of in such a conservative Clan. The Falcons were now desperate, and by all indications they would at least be threatened with Absorption once they returned to the Homeworlds to elect a new ilKhan. This would buy the Inner Sphere and the Wolves time. Time in which they could prepare their own attack, to stem the Clan tide before it rushed forward again. The Whitting Conference on Tharkad would be a start. It prompted her heart to beat rapidly as she thought that greatest of dreams, the resurrection of the one thing that she had been taught to adore since she could remember: the Star League. In her mind's eye she could see her uniform adorned with the Cameron's Star and it made her soul warm, exciting every sense in her body with a feeling far more profound than anything that could be done to her physically. The Star League, the legacy of the Camerons, reborn from common cause which would hopefully bond the Houses of the Inner Sphere in such a way that they would finally stop their bickering and warring. It was going to be a long struggle, nearly three hundred years had passed since the beginning of the Succession Wars, and hatreds ran strong between the Houses. Just as the hatred that ran between her Clan and the Falcons, an enmity born from competition in the Pentagon campaign and Falcon jealousy that the Wolves had been chosen by Nicholas Kerensky to bear his legacy.
The kind of hatred that refused to die.
Daphne clenched her fists and thought of the Falcons with bitter anger. She hated them, despised those tradition-bound fools with every fiber of her being. She wanted to avenge her Clan's losses upon them, make them realize...
It only occurred for a moment, but a flash of blue and green light played through the porthole, in stark contrast to the infinite darkness she had been viewing a moment ago. The swirling colors pierced her vision and drew her attention instantly. Daphne blinked and looked outside the porthole to get a better view. What she saw made her gasp.
It was huge, looking large enough to engulf even a McKenna. Blue and green light pervaded the color of the thing outside the window, which swirled and surged with otherworldly power she did not comprehend. The DropShip's speed was such that it could not stop before it entered the opened maw. Just as quickly as it had appeared, it was gone.
Daphne quickly climbed up two ladders and into the bridge of the Wolf's Claw, where chaos had set in. Bridge crew members went over their control panels frantically, trying to find out what was going on. Finally, someone brought up a view of the visible planets on the bridge's holotank. The planet of Arc-Royal, and all of the orbital facilities and ships that had been present in the solar system, were gone. The planets presented were different, arrayed in different orbital paths and locations within the solar system, and the star had changed to one with a more yellowish tint. Daphne stepped down, looking at it with the bridge watch officer. His jaw dropped, and Daphne soon understood when she realized the significance of the size and positioning of the planets of the solar system. Every schoolchild in the Clans could recognize this system, and the jewel within it. The shining jewel that every Clan wanted to take, the jewel that would give them control over the entirety of the other Clans. "This, is this... Terra?", Daphne stuttered to her ship's Captain, a lanky freeborn technician-turned-warrior Star Captain named Renard.
"It appears so, Star Colonel," Renard answered, his own pale blue eyes glittering uncharacteristically from the view they were beholding on the holotank. The grin that was forming on his face told of his internal joy, and indeed, the joy that all of the crew would soon share when they gazed upon Blessed Terra, Cradle of Humanity. The planet of the Great Father Aleksandr Kerensky and his son Nicholas, founder of the Clans and Clan Wolf's greatest hero. The planet of the honored Camerons, leaders of the great Star League.
And it was now within reach.
She twirled around to the sensor officer, a female Star Commander who, like Renard, had at one time been a technician. "Quick! Are you picking up aerospace fighters inbound?!" Daphne's eyes narrowed. The violent ComStar fanatics known as the Word of Blake had taken over the Cradle of Humanity earlier in the year. Their reaction to the presence of a Clan DropShip would likely be swift and violent, and their reaction to whatever phenomena of space had brought them here...
"None." The officer's face looked up, twisted in a bewildered and surprised fashion. Her cerulean eyes were widened from whatever shock she had just received. A lock of her auburn hair had fallen down to the side of her mouth by the sharpness of her neck's turn and was kept in position by the lack of gravity to pull it down. "I am not even detecting any orbital stations, or lunar stations. Nothing in the outer system or at Venus and Mars either."
"Impossible!" Daphne rubbed her forehead. She had heard the reports, ComStar operated the Titan Shipyards of old, and maintained the Venus and Mars colonies that the Terran Hegemony had formed. It was impossible, impossible for there not to be one trace of them. [/i]And impossible for us to be thrown nearly two hundred light years from Arc-Royal[/i], she added mentally. Her mind threatened to be overwhelmed by all of the changes she was seeing. "Is there anything?"
"A multitude of orbital satellites," the sensor officer answered. "And the remains of what appears to be a low technology orbital space station. Star Colonel, this technology is centuries behind us. Early 21st Century. Trying to read identifier beacons now."
Daphne found a seat and began trying to sift through the possibilities despite the chaos that had grabbed her mind. Could we have traveled back in time? What kind of trick is this? "Identifiers?"
"The date stamp on the satellite is October 11, 2015," the officer reported. "The transmission language is coded but the computers are beginning to crack it. The identifier states it is an American satellite."
"American? As in one of the continents of the Western Hemisphere?"
"No. Distinct national identity. 'Property of the United States Air Force.'"
"The United States of America, Star Colonel," Renard stated. "An old Terran political entity, the last superpower on Earth. It was one of the founding nations of the Terran Alliance if I can remember the old history books correctly."
"Yes, I have heard some of this in my studies when I was young, but the Western Alliance as it was first called was formed in 2014, so shouldn't they have Western Alliance identifiers?" Daphne couldn't put her finger on it, but something very strange and wonderful was at her fingertips and she wanted to find out what it was. "Other satellites, I want to know what they state."
"Yes Star Colonel." The officer went back to work. "Now we have a satellite belonging to an entity called the United Nations."
"United Nations?" Renard and Daphne exchanged glances. "They fell apart after the Second Soviet Civil War, I thought?"
"Could this..." Daphne felt her head begun to ache with dull agony and inhibit her thinking. This was something that simply refused to make sense. "Begin burning toward Terra," she finally ordered. "I wish to know what is going on here."
"We will be in position for orbital entry in two hours," the ship's navigation officer stated.
Daphne nodded slowly and caused her hair to float freely in the zero-G. "Before we go on, send a shuttle back to begin transmitting the coordinates for this... this thing to Khan Phelan, so that he may send us reinforcements."
"Reinforcements, Star Colonel?"
Daphne did not give the ship's commander the benefit of a glance. "Yes, Captain. We do not know what we will find when we get there. I prefer to take no risks."
"Aff, Star Colonel."
Four hours would be spent by Daphne as she tried to reason what she was seeing. This was something beyond her, something wonderful in the truest sense of the word, a mystery of the universe that beckoned to her yet would not reveal itself. An alternate universe, perhaps? A place where time flowed differently, or events had not been the same as her own universe? What awesome force had created this bridge, as it were? At the half way point of their course a sharp jolt effected her as the ship's engines were turned off long enough for it to be maneuvered in the opposite direction to begin deceleration. After an indeterminable amount of time, Daphne looked over at Renard. "This may be the most important day in human history since the first K-F drive jump," she said.
"I agree. I wonder, though, how much of a difference one little world can do to humanity of our time, where we have spread out to hundreds of planets?" Renard shook his head and looked at the holotank in awe. "I never thought I would see it in my lifetime. It is such a beautiful planet."
"For us, at least. Terra, the Cradle. Maybe not our Terra, but does it matter?" Daphne stood from the chair. "Are we close enough to view the surface?"
"Yes." The sensor officer blinked twice. "Kerensky's name..."
"What?"
"I... Well, I zoomed in on the eastern portion of the Eurasian landmass, and found several areas where there should be cities for this time frame, but all that I can find is... rubble. I will continue scans."
"Focus on North America."
"I am doing so." Her head looked back over. "This just is not right. The Arabian Peninsula is also heavily damaged." She keyed something on her console and a close-in view of the area around one of the cities in Arabia appeared on the holotank, with level indicators to show the structural damage to various buildings in the area. "It's almost as... if..."
"Nuclear weapons," Daphne murmured. Her face was aghast as she could make out the obvious effects of a nuclear detonation, the expanding circles of destruction from what had obviously been ground zero. "What in..."
"Intercepting some comm messages," the communications officer interrupted. "Coming from the center of the continent, very faint, and unencrypted. I think we're tapping into battle communications."
"Triangulate source." Daphne took in a breath before walking toward the ladder down from the bridge. "Have my Command Star suit up. I want answers, and I'm going down there to find out just what in Kerensky's name has happened to this Terra."

Site of First Contact
17 kilometers southeast of Topeka, Kansas, United States
11 October 2015 S.E.C.
31 July 3058 I.S.C.

The rumbling of UN tanks made the nerves of a company of Kansas National Guardsmen rattle. Some no older than seventeen, they continued to prepare to defend their position from the approaching UN force. They had to succeed, a UN breakthrough could put the front along the entire state in danger. The captain leading the company directed his men to keep their anti-tank weapons ready, but nobody held any doubts as to who the victor would be. Tanks versus infantry, in open terrain, was usually a death sentence for the grunts.
An explosion ripped through the air, killing a handful of men nearby with heated debris that the HEAT round had created with it's impact. The first UN main battle tanks, Russian-made T-99Ds, were rumbling into range. A second shell was fired and took out another squad worth of men. The riflemen and machine gunners of the company returned fire, concentrating on the tanks' infantry "escort", some hitting the ground to avoid the incoming bullets and give cover fire while the others took cover with their tanks and continued firing. Their own riflemen and machine gunners countered with a volley of fire. One anti-tank squad picked up a missile launcher with an anti-tank missile inside and locked it onto the nearest tank. They fired at the T-99D. The warhead, which was raised slightly to strike the vulnerable top armor when it struck, hit the turret and killed the man firing it's machine gun before he could get out of the way. Before they could load another missile, the sound of rotors chopping through air echoed over the battlefield, heralding the arrival of the UN's helicopter support. The Russian-built Hokum and Havocs, three overall, opened fire on the company from long range with their rockets and mounted guns. A dozen men died in the first volley from the choppers, whittling down the company's numbers even more. Those fighting the UN forces knew they were out of time, and out of luck, yet they opted against surrender or retreat. Instead, they prepared their grenades for what would be a suicide charge, hoping to take out enough of the enemy tanks that the UN would be forced to withdraw to regroup. The first men went "over the top", so to speak, into a hail of gunfire. They did not flinch, and for a foreign observer, it was a scene of moving yet futile courage. The tanks' machine gunners and the helicopters opened fire into the troops, killing many of them.
That was when lightning struck one of the Havocs.
At first it astounded those of the Guardsmen who had remained in their position. There were no weather predictions of thunderstorms, and there was not a cloud in the sky. It was impossible for a lightning strike to have destroyed one of the attacking choppers. Then their minds registered the fact that the lightning had come from a downward angle, thus meaning it was... was...
Eyes turned to the north, and on both sides, stunned silence ended the battle. There was something there. Something neither side had seen before. It was tall, well over 10 meters in height. Bird-legs supported it's torso, a cockpit-like structure jutting out of the body. A pair of muzzles were beneath the cockpit, and a pair of what appeared to be missile launchers were attached to the shoulders. Twin arms, each a hexagonal shape, sported a muzzle on each, with one of them smoking.
Beside it stood another walking thing. Also possessing bird-legs, it's torso reminded them of a great vulture, with a pair of large missile launchers, one on each side of the head pointing forward with a cockpit in it. Each arm had a pair of muzzles, one smaller than the other. A third was a tall, human-looking form, with a giant missile launcher on the left shoulder and the apparent "cockpit" on the right. The left arm had a cannon attached to the side of the arm, and the other was another hexagonal shape. A bolt of cerulean energy came out of the arm and sliced a UN Hokum in half, causing it to explode. A fourth object approached from behind the armor, a small, squat form with six-muzzle arms. Beside it was a smaller one with bird-legs, a stunted torso, and arms. The fourth one opened fire, sending three red beams into the last helicopter as it jinked away from a stream of green bolts coming from one of the arms of the vulture-like things. The armor fired on their new enemy, causing some slight armor damage but failing to get any penetration of the armor. This brought the full wrath of the newcomers upon them. Energy beams, streams of energy darts, and an occasional "lightning" bolt tore into the ranks of the enemy armor. They quickly decided to withdraw. As they fled the strange walking war machines kept the distance tight. One after another the UN tanks and APCs fell to the red and green fury of the walkers, exploding as their armor failed and the gas tanks or magazine was hit. Tank crews jumped out of their tanks and threw their hands up in the air, terrified of the enemy facing them.
A minute after the battle began anew, the battlefield was littered with the wreckage of the enemy armored force, and not one vehicle remained. The National Guardsmen looked upon their saviors with curiosity. Finally, the captain stepped forward from the others toward the apparent leader of their rescuers. He pointed toward the assorted tank crews to prompt some of his men to take them prisoner before turning to the lead war machine. "Hello? I am Captain Michael Holling of the Kansas National Guard. Thanks for the help."
"You are welcome, Captain," a female voice answered from within the lead one, the one with the twin missile launchers on the shoulders. "My warriors and I could not bring ourselves to stand aside and let your people be slaughtered. Your bravery against armor was commendable."
"Thank you, ma'am. Um, who might you be?"
"I am Star Colonel Daphne Vickers of the Wolf Clan," the woman answered candidly. "And I would like to speak to your commanders."
"Well, um, Colonel Vickers," the confused Captain Holling began, "I'm sure that can be arranged immediately..."


Presidential Office, State Capital
Salt Lake City, Utah, United States
Scorched Earth
11 October 2015 S.E.C.
31 July 3058 I.S.C.

The former office of the Governor of Utah until April 2015, the Presidential Office was lined with maps of North America and the world, with large swaths of territory in Africa, Europe, Asia, and North America marked in the light blue of the UN. Only South America and Australia were unblemished by the seemingly benign color, but that color held within it a sinister truth.
The free nations of the world were losing this war.
President Jason Andrews could only feel sick as he pondered the war. It was a sickness brought on by desperation, by despair, over the situation that his beloved nation was put in. Andrews was only in his sixties, with grayed black hair and shining brown eyes, but the shine in his eyes had dulled after years of having watched the free world collapse underneath the weight of the onrushing UN Army, and his hair had only gotten grayer with each passing day and with it, the knowledge that even as thousands of Americans fought desperately to hold the nation's heartland, millions more suffered the oppression of a foreign enemy in the Occupation Zones. He had been elected in a landslide, the nation's first black President, and had spent every day since his inauguration trying to fix the damage done by his incompetent and egotistical predecessor, Denise Saunders. Years in which he had worked hard to rebuild his nation's defense industries, unite in a full alliance with all of the other nations of the Western Hemisphere, and try to hold off the UN advance wherever possible. His place was guaranteed in history, as Saunders' had been, but Andrews' only concern for history was whether his nation would get to have any more history written.
Four years, that was all it had taken. In four years, Russia had fallen, then Japan, then China, then Britain, and now, just eleven months after having taken Newfoundland and parts of Nova Scotia and eight months after landing on the shores of New England, the forces under the banner of the once peaceful United Nations held most of the Eastern half of North America. His brown eyes traced the red front line, which traveled from the coast of the Gulf of Mexico on the northern tip of Matagorda Bay to a salient near Austin, and north through the rest of Texas to Oklahoma, Kansas, Nebraska, the Dakotas, and into Canada, where it skirted the eastern side of Winnipeg and the eastern shore of Lake Winnipeg, up to the Nelson River and the battle-torn city of York Factory on the large Hudson Bay. Eight damn months. Where is Giuseppe getting all of his troops and equipment? The very nature of the "new" United Nations of "Chairman" Armand Giuseppe quickly answered Andrews, as dictated by the organization's new emblem. Where there had once been olive branches surrounding the white outline of Earth on a blue background, now two crossed swords of ornate design were set over the globe, with a phrase in Latin stating "Unity Over All." Unity at the point of a gun is no unity at all. Unfortunately, it seems that Giuseppe is far too mad to see that.
The door opened and an aide entered, seeming quite frantic. Andrews clenched his fists and wondered what news he would be delivering. Had the UN broken through the line to take Florida? Or had they entered Austin? Maybe launched an offensive through the weakened line in Kansas and broken into the American heartland? Andrews had become accustomed to reports that continued to doom his nation and their allies, and he still wondered morbidly if one of these days it would give him a heart attack. "Yes, son?", he asked wearily.
The young man did not answer before Andrews saw someone enter behind him. The woman now before him looked relatively young, likely in her thirties or perhaps early forties, with a gray camo uniform that held a flowing red cape over the back, a uniform Andrews had never seen before. Her rank insignia, three red stars on a brown square, added to the exotic appearance the cold-eyed woman gave as she took a handful of bold steps to his desk. "And you are, ma'am?", he asked bluntly.
"I am Star Colonel Daphne Vickers, Loremaster of the Wolf Clan," came the prompt reply.
Andrews blinked as his mind took in the information. "Wolf Clan?"
"Sir," his aide cut in, "I should tell you, Colonel Vickers' forces just trashed a company of UN armor in Kansas."
Really? Well, at least these people seem to be on our side. "Then, I thank you, Colonel."
Daphne considered the older man for a moment. The aide continued after swallowing in. "Sir, these people are from, well, they appear to be from outer space..."
Andrews really wasn't sure why, but the dead seriousness in which his aide spoke of the woman's origin made him laugh. Outer space?! Really, some people have overactive imaginations!
At that moment he felt a tremor go through the building. The roar grew louder and caused him to turn to look out at the helipads in the open courtyard of the capitol. His eyes widened as a massive oval-shaped craft settled itself squarely in the middle of the courtyard, with scattered observers on the ground staring at it's size and alienesque appearance. The emblem on the side, that of a red wolf, matched an emblem on Daphne's uniform. No, is this happening? Can these people be...
One of the large bay doors of the craft opened, becoming a ramp. Through the 20 by 5 meter door a shadow appeared. From within a large machine stepped out of the ship and onto the ramp. The gigantic humanoid form, with a shoulder-mounted missile launcher and weapon muzzles at the end of arms, moved steadily out of the craft. It was followed by another machine, sleeker, with an avian appearance. Andrews' heart threatened to beat out of his chest as the sheer impossibility of the situation continued to assault his mind. This has to be a dream, an illusion, something other than what I'm seeing!
"The lead machine is a Summoner OmniMech, the one behind it is a Mad Dog OmniMech," Daphne explained curtly. She smirked slightly at the abject shock on Andrews' face.
"These... these things, are walking tanks?!"
"Yes, and no. They are a weapon system all their own, made with myomer muscle bundles, endo steel skeletons, and powered by fusion plants." Daphne looked out the window as a Nova emerged next. "And they are generally known as BattleMechs."
"Looks like we have a lot to learn," Andrews croaked.
"We both do, President," Daphne answered. "For instance, this enemy you are fighting, who are they?" Her gaze went over to the map on his wall.
Andrews sighed deeply with his gaze kept on the wonder of watching the hulking war machines move out into the courtyard. After turning back he clenched a fist and sat down. He motioned toward a chair, indicating she should sit, and Daphne responded by giving the chair a disdainful look. "Where to begin, where to begin..."

DropShip Wolf's Claw, Outbound
Scorched Earth
12 October 2015 S.E.C.
1 August 3058 I.S.C.

The "new Terra" twirled softly below them as the DropShip reached orbit and began accelerating. Daphne peered at it on the holotank viewer. Renard stepped up beside her and Daphne saw the blue colors of Earth merge with the color of his blond hair to make it look green. "It is strange, quiaff?" Renard intently watched the Earth. "This is our home, the Cradle of Humanity, but yet it is not. What strange tricks the universe plays on us?"
"I know, Captain." Daphne reached a hand toward the world. Her heart quivered from the impact of knowing that such a beautiful world could suffer such grievous injuries. From orbit and with the records that the Americans had given her, she had seen the grievous damage done to Humanity's Cradle by the war being fought. She had seen the nuclear wastelands, the bombed out cities and towns, the dead civilians, and her heart railed against the blasphemies that had scorched this world. "This Armand Giuseppe seeks to unify this world under his rule, to bring unity where there is none. Is this not the cause of the foolhardy Crusaders, who wish to trample the people our ancestors swore to protect to restore the Star League? My Warden heart calls out for us to do something to end this madness, Renard."
"As does mine." Renard nodded solemnly. "Do you think the Khan will take well our news of this scorched Earth?"
"I am not sure, my freeborn friend," Daphne replied, grinning at him. "But I can say this, those who have brought war to this beautiful world will not be happy with our response. Now, let me introduce you to our passenger." Daphne pointed him over to the middle-aged woman standing on the bridge's outer deck, taking in the sights of a ship carrying technology a millennia ahead of her own. She held onto the rail even after the ship's acceleration created the illusion of gravity and caused her long and frail brown hair to settle on her shoulders in a somewhat uneven manner. She turned her gray eyes to Daphne just as Daphne stated, "This is the American Secretary of State, Janice Kalick. She has been sent by her superior to speak with the Khan and his father."
"Greetings, Secretary Janice," Renard said to the woman, offering his hand in the traditional gesture of friendship.
"Thank you, Captain..."
Renard recognized that her long pause was his opening to introduce himself, so he finished her sentence for her. "Star Captain Renard."
"Renard? Just Renard?"
"Yes. I have no Bloodname." He saw the quizzical expression on Kalick's face. "Ah, you have not had the Bloodnames explained to you yet, quineg?"
"Neg, she has not," Daphne answered for Kalick. "Please, Secretary, do not be offended if my officers and crew refer to you by your given name. That is the Clan custom, as only a small handful of us are gifted with family names."
"I... I see," Kalick said.
"And, I will tell you know, "aff" means yes and "neg" means no. If someone says "quineg" or "quiaff" at the end of a sentence, it is because they are posing a rhetorical question with an expected answer." Daphne sympathized with Kalick when she saw the look in Kalick's eyes as one of the ship's marines, a robust and bald Elemental named Alistair, walked onto the bridge. It was a strange mixture of awe and fear, the latter certainly being a condition of her anxiety over being sent into the unknown. Indeed, it shows these people are truly desperate if they would so willingly entrust the fate of one of their leaders to us, complete strangers. "Point Commander Alistair is an Elemental," she explained. "He benefits from genetic engineering, that is why he is so large and his build is so muscular. It is not always a blessing," Daphne paused the instant she heard a light clang and a quick spurt of swear from Alistair as he rubbed his bald crown and pulled his head under an exit way, then continued with a slight grin at the incompatibility of his height to the DropShip's various doorways, "as he just demonstrated."
Kalick nodded slowly. "Yes, I see."
"Star Colonel!"
Renard, Kalick, and Daphne turned from the holotank toward the junior sensor officer, a member of the Ch'in House and therefore possessing some attributes linked to Oriental descent from Terra. The one contrasting feature that seemed out of place was the short blond hair on her head. "Yes, Star Commander Chloe?"
"Something has just appeared insystem."
Her mind hampered by the completely lack of possibilities she had, Daphne asked, "They just jumped in?"
"No, they are too close to the new Terra to have just jumped in, and I am not reading any JumpShips. Just a DropShip, Overlord-class."
"Who? Can you pick up their identifying beacon?"
Chloe looked it over, and it took a moment for her mind to process the data that appeared. "The computer recognizes the IFF code. One moment..." Her head raised slowly. "It's identifier code is that of a Smoke Jaguar DropShip."
Daphne felt her heart plunge into her stomach. And it was then that something occurred to her, something just as wonderful but with a frightening dread to go along with it. There is another portal here, another bridge...


DropShip Bloodthirst, Outbound
Huntress System, Clan Space
12 October 2015 S.E.C.
1 August 3058 I.S.C.

The holotank on the bridge of the Overlord-class DropShip was empty, displaying only the empty space with the native constellations of the Huntress star system. With his cape of mottled gray fur settling over his shoulders, Russou Howell looked out upon the stars, and in his mind, he tried to imagine which ones were now shining their light on the forces of his Clan as the Smoke Jaguars prepared to again pounce on the Inner Sphere. Khan Lincoln was returning with the others to elect a new ilKhan and vote on continuing the invasion, and when that vote came, the Jaguars would immediately attack to outrun the Ghost Bears and the other Clans in the race to Terra. Howell regulated his breathing well, although he noticed the ship's air was a tad stale. I will have to see about why the ship's technicians seem to not be on task. Perhaps flogging one will persuade them to quicken their pace? "Time to rendezvous with our JumpShip?"
"Still at ten hours."
"Very well. And bring me your chief technician, I am growing tired of this..."
The holotank flashed briefly with the appearance of a large whirlpool of blue and green color, drawing Howell's attention. The display disappeared a few moments later, as the ship entered the maw of the whirlpool, and empty space appeared on the other side. Howell blinked, almost believing that his eyes had played a trick on him.
"Galaxy Commander, Huntress is gone!"
Howell turned angrily to the sensor officer. "What are you blabbering about?!"
"The entire system is gone! It is as if we have jumped by ourselves..."
"Where are we then?"
The sensor officer keyed several buttons and displays at his station, and the holotank brought up a view of the solar system they were in. Eight planetary bodies, plus the distant field of ice bodies, revolved around a large yellow-orange star. Howell's eyes widened as he tracked the planets one by one into the middle of the system, where his gaze settled on the blue and green third planet. "Show me the third world, Star Commander," he rasped. Howell's heart beat with ferocity as the planet grew larger, and he could make out the landmass of Eurasia. "Terra! We have reached Terra!" With frenzied eyes he turned to the sensor officer. "Are there any ComStar fighters or ships deploying to meet us?!"
"Neg, Galaxy Commander, I am not picking up any ships or fighters in system. In fact, I am not picking up anything. There is merely the ruined remains of what appears to be a primitive space station and many satellites in Earth's orbit. There are no space-bound facilities near Venus, Mars, or Titan, as we would know."
"Could Terra have been so badly damaged by the Succession Wars?", Howell wondered aloud.
"Wait, Galaxy Commander," the Star Commander stated, "I am now detecting a ship near Terra, it is burning on a course away from the planet."
"Which jump point is it heading toward?"
"None, Galaxy Commander."
Howell's brow furrowed. Nothing was making sense. ComStar possessed Terra, yet such a techno-centric organization, with access to Star League technology, would never allow the defense stations and colonies on Mars and Venus to be destroyed. Some had survived the retaking of Terra from Amaris, after all, and Howell could not see ComStar just letting them fall into disrepair or destruction. And then there was that one ship...
"We are reading the IFF code of the DropShip, Galaxy Commander. It appears to be a Union-class. DropShip Wolf's Claw of the Wolf Clan. Sir," the Star Commander looked up, "the ship is listed as having been with Phelan Kell's forces when they left their Clan."
"That ship is with Phelan Kell's traitors?" Suddenly something began clicking in Howell's mind, something delightful. If this is one of their ships, then, then there must be something here, something that connects the Inner Sphere to our homespace! If that is true... Howell realized just how remarkable the discovery he had just made could be. A gateway from the Clan Homeworlds to the Inner Sphere, cutting a rough seven to nine month journey into a mere month at most. The find that could, if used properly, bring victory to the Crusade!
Howell knew what he had to do.
"Begin burning in toward Terra!", he bellowed to the navigation and piloting officer, a light-skinned woman with dark brown hair. He turned to the communications officer, who was of the Osis line and thus dark-skinned. "Intercept all transmissions between that Wolf DropShip and Terra, and relay them here!"
"Redirecting course now, Galaxy Commander," the navigation officer reported gruffly, sounding masculine despite her gender, "we will arrive in twelve hours."
"Beginning comm sweep, Galaxy Commander."
Howell turned back and watched Terra twirl enchantingly on the screen, with the small dot representing the Wolf ship moving away from it slowly. He clenched his fist and his mind was filled with images of glory. Even if this is not sacred Terra, if this is some vile trick by whatever deity that may exist, it still represents a bridge, a bridge with which the Clans will renew their assault on the Inner Sphere. And while the Home Clans fight the Inner Sphere for control of this gateway, the Smoke Jaguars will leap past our opposition, and again we will be on the road to Terra. The Jaguar smiled, relishing the coming victory.

United Nations Headquarters
Geneva, Swiss Confederation, United Nations
Scorched Earth
13 October 2015 S.E.C.
2 August 3058 I.S.C.

For nine years, since the expulsion of the UN from the United States, Geneva had been the home of the United Nations' General Assembly and the center of their bureaucracy. Following the outset of war in 2011, former Secretary-General and now Chairman Armand Giuseppe had ordered that the headquarters be expanded and fortified. Now it was a fortress, with a barbed-wire fence protected by motion and thermal sensors rounding the facility, and armed guards with dogs on both sides of the fence on constant patrol. A checkpoint on each quarter of the fence gave entrance to the outer square and courtyard area, and the buildings that housed the members of the General Assembly and Security Committee with their families. A second wall, with barbed-wire at the top and motion sensors inside, protected the inner circle, which had all of the command facilities for the globe-spanning government. T-100 MBTs were situated at key points in the inner circle, their 120mm guns pointed toward the checkpoints, giving them the ability to kill any intruding vehicle lucky enough to get through the first checkpoint. SAM emplacements, anti-aircraft batteries, and watch towers enhanced the defensive capability of the inner circle. The building that dwarfed all others with it's majesty was the main HQ, in which the UN High Command led the war effort against the nations of the world which opposed Giuseppe's plans for world unity.
On top of this grand building was a golden emblem of the United Nations, a massive globe with crossed swords imposed over it, and Unitas Apprime on the outer edge. Armed guards roamed the rooftop and manned the anti-aircraft guns that would prevent a helicopter attack on the facility. Within the bowels of the upper floor laid the control center from which Giuseppe's Cabinet meted out orders to the rest of the world, and from which he could watch his armies advance. His own office was adjacent to this control center, as was the three room suite that he lived and slept in. Unlike previous European dictators, like Hitler, Giuseppe was a workaholic, always on the spot, observing his subordinates and making sure they worked toward his dream of a unified mankind.
Heads turned across the courtyard of the magnificent UN Headquarters as the giant Bloodthirst approached to land. Jaws began to drop even as a man in a light blue uniform stepped out of a vehicle that had just passed through the checkpoint into the inner circle. His light blond hair, now showing just a tinge of gray on the outer edges, was combed to the side and seemed to shine in the morning sun. Piercing blue eyes coldly gazed upon those who looked at him, even as those soldiers tried to maintain their discipline. The five-globe insignia of a Field Marshall reflected light from his collar, and a small baton hung at his side, an old European tradition that had not yet been expunged due to the Euro-centric nature of the UN regime. His honor guard stepped out, led by a VdO Kommandant, and fell into step beside him, holding firmly onto their assault rifles.
From the DropShip, Russou Howell emerged with his own phalanx of honor guards, namely, a trio of unarmored Elementals holding pulse laser rifles. The gigantic Elementals' footfalls were easily heard on the marble walkway as they strode up with Howell to the man. Howell saw the other man's hand rise up a bit, and accepted the hand. "I am Galaxy Commander Russou Howell," he began in a firm, proud voice, "of the Smoke Jaguar Clan, chosen of Kerensky."
"Greetings, Galaxy Commander Howell," the man answered in a German accent. "I am Feldmarschall Reinhard von Krager, commander of the Verteidiger der Ordnung. Chairman Giuseppe awaits you in his office."
Howell nodded, and allowed von Krager to lead him to the middle of an electric motor cart convoy. The guards of both men stepped onto the rest of the carts, and they moved back through the checkpoint.
The convoy took merely thirty-six seconds to get from the checkpoint to the Main HQ building. Von Krager and Howell stepped out of their vehicle together and walked through a pair of bullet-proof glass double-doors into the front lobby of the main complex. Four floors were visible from this area, and dozens of people milled around, sneaking peaks at the offworld visitors and hiding gasps of surprise at the size of the massive two meter high Elementals that served as Howell's bodyguards. Without a word von Krager stepped up to an elevator and keyed it open. The entourage crowded inside, and the elevator moved up through a glass tube into the upper floors of the building. Once on the seventh floor, they got out and entered a series of corridors, some with internal offices and others completely empty. With precision earned from two years of traveling these hallways, von Krager found the secure elevator to the upper floors, the "Inner Sanctum" as it was known, and opened it with a key card and retina scan. Once inside the elevator they went up another three floors, and exited into a security checkpoint. It was not a long walk after the checkpoint to arrive at the massive command center deep within the bowels of the building. Three stories in height, it was dominated by a massive wall monitor showing the current status of their armies, updated every thirty minutes. The majority of the troops were in North America, with some on Timor and New Guinea fighting the Australians and New Zealanders and others busy facing what was left of the PLA in China as well as the desert-based Middle Eastern Liberation Army. Standing on the second floor, and thus looking at the monitor straight on, was Armand Giuseppe himself. He was tall and well-built, with a shock of gray hair on his head with a few tinges of brown. His powerful jaw was reminiscent of Benito Mussolini, and his green eyes burned with an inner fire fueled by his madness. Von Krager led his guest up an electric lift to the platform where the tyrant was standing, and saluted his superior, in a way that Howell found to be somewhat mocking. Their uniforms were very similar, with Giuseppe having a sixth globe on his rank collar. "Chairman, may I present to you Galaxy Commander Russou Howell of the Smoke Jaguar Clan," von Krager stated.
Howell stepped forward, appraising the burning madness within Giuseppe's eyes as they gave a tentative hand shake. "I have heard that you had some difficulties with the dezgra Wolves lately?"
"The Wolves are the ones who helped the Americans oppose my unity?", Giuseppe inquired.
Howell nodded slightly, observing that the man before him was likely not in his right mind. And therefore, he will be easy to manipulate. It will not be long before this world is a Smoke Jaguar possession, and we will be able to use it to keep the Home Clans busy long enough for our own offensive to reach further into the Draconis Combine and eventually Terra. "Yes, some time ago the Wolf Clan split into two factions. One faction remained true to the Clans, but the other fled to be with our enemies in the Inner Sphere. It was they who attacked you."
"And you will help us crush them?"
"Yes." Howell nodded again, suppressing what would have been a wicked grin. "Yes, we will."
"If you will allow me, Chairman," von Krager began, "I will coordinate with Commander Howell on these matters."
"Yes." Howell turned briefly to look at the map, and found himself in awe of the fact that he was indeed standing on the sacred world of Terra, yet it was not their Terra. The mysteries of the universe, indeed, of all reality, seemed expansive and incomprehensible. But just as he began to consider this he pushed it out of his mind with the precision of a hardened Jaguar warrior. Such considerations were for theorists of the scientist caste, not for warriors. "If I am right, and the Wolves came from within the Inner Sphere, then your world is very important to our cause. We of the Clans seek to restore the rightful Star League to it's proper place, by conquering those who destroyed it and reunifying mankind."
"Then you seek the same goal as I!" Giuseppe seemed to lose control for a moment, but a firm squeeze on his shoulder by von Krager prompted him to regain some of that control, enough to feign a bit of sanity. "I feel we will be great allies."
"Yes," Howell lied, "I agree."
"I am pleased that this is settled," von Krager stated happily. "Might we begin discussing our mutual cause?"
Howell finished looking at the mad tyrant and found himself looking at Reinhard von Krager. The man was different from his superior. His cold eyes and firm posture showed him to be fully sane. More importantly, Howell had seen how he controlled Giuseppe's madness. Ruefully, he considered the possibility that Giuseppe was the Richard Cameron to von Krager's Stefan Amaris, and wondered that if it were true, what would von Krager do to help or hinder their new "alliance"? He bears watching. Close watching. "I will need to report this to the rest of the Clans," he informed them. "I would appreciate a representative from your people, otherwise they might consider me mad, and we would not want that, quiaff?"
"Ja, indeed, we do not want that." Von Krager eyed Howell with as much interest as Howell eyed him. The two men continued to watch the other's reactions as the conversation continued. "Chairman, I recommend that you send me."
"Why you, Reinhard?", the Italian asked in a disapproving tone. "I need you here, leading the VdO against our enemies."
"A short absence will not harm our operations, Chairman, I assure you," von Krager responded in a placating manner. "Kommandant Streicher is more than able to maintain my office while I am away, and Doctor Smiege has already assumed much of the direction of the Waldkraiburg HBRC and our Deprogramming Department."
Howell's brow furrowed. "Deprogramming?"
"The method in which those who oppose me are re-educated and forced to see the truth," Giuseppe responded rabidly.
The nod that Howell answered Giuseppe with hid his desire for a more comprehensive answer, although he took care in noticing that von Krager seemed amused at Giuseppe's description. "Then, that would be your prerogative," Howell lied again, not really caring at the moment about it but not entirely sure his Clan could afford leaving Giuseppe and his government on a long leash. It matters not, within a year we will own him and his world. And deprogramming sounds like something we could use in the Inner Sphere, to subjugate the freeborn civilians and make them see the wisdom of the Clan way. Yes, this world poses many interesting possibilities. And I must have this man von Krager to make the other Clans realize this. "So, will Feldmarschal von Krager be joining me?"
Von Krager nodded silently and gave Giuseppe a pat on the shoulder. Giuseppe did not acknowledge the touch. "Yes, he will," Giuseppe answered.
"I shall pack my things immediately, Commander Howell. We can leave in twenty four hours, time in which you can learn all you need to know about our war effort."
"Yes, that will do nicely." Howell hid his grin. Nicely indeed... "Would you like me to drop off a Star of my BattleMechs in North America, the front where the Wolves have left their troops? They could prevent any more embarrassments, and I will arrange for a second DropShip with more supplies and troops if the Wolves arrive in force."
Giuseppe nodded enthusiastically. "We are grateful, Galaxy Commander."
"Yes. However, this will be the limit of my abilities to aid you, the rest relies on the Grand Kurultai." Howell's eyes grinned at the thought of what would happen when the Council approved intervention. "Now, if you will excuse me, I will go tell my ship to prepare for departure."
Giuseppe and von Krager nodded at him. "Take the Galaxy Commander back to his ship," von Krager ordered a pair of uniformed soldiers. The lead one nodded and they flanked him as he stepped onto the lift to go back down.


Old Connaught, Arc-Royal
Arc-Royal Defense Cordon, Lyran Alliance
15 October 2015 S.E.C.
4 August 3058 I.S.C.

Secretary of State Janice Kalick swallowed hard and followed two armed guards into an office. The inside of the office was decorated with various trappings of office and a few military items. In the chair behind the desk sat the leader of Arc-Royal, Grand Duke Morgan Kell. The man's beard and hair were dark gray, with a weathered expression from years of war. His brown eyes were dulled, showing the fatigue that came with his burdens, past and present. His right arm was mechanical, and Kalick did not bother wondering how he had lost that particular limb. Standing to his side was a somewhat younger man, with contrasting blue eyes, and lighter-colored hair. And on the other side was a man that Kalick estimated to be around thirty, with striking brown eyes and a robust physique well-displayed by the almost skin-tight leather uniform he had donned. The insignia of the Wolf Clan was on his uniform, along with a five-star insignia that Kalick had not seen on any of the pictures of the other "Wolves" that had come to her world and brought her back here. Morgan slowly stood from his chair and extended a hand. "Secretary Kalick, isn't it?"
"Yes, Grand Duke Kell," she answered, feeling awkward at her surroundings. Her body still shook from the rigors of space travel with these people, and President Andrews' orders remained clear. "Do whatever it takes, but we need these people to help us if we want to save ourselves," he had told her before Star Colonel Vickers had brought her aboard their "DropShip". On the way the Star Colonel had told her some things about the "Clans", how there were seventeen out of twenty originally formed, and even helped her with watching her contractions, although Kalick found it highly unusual for the use of contractions to be so despised. "You will forgive me for..."
"It is natural for you to be so apprehensive," the one in the Wolf uniform stated. "I must admit, I thought that Star Colonel Daphne had lost her mind when she told us of your world."
"This is my son, Phelan," Morgan introduced. "Phelan is the leader of the Wolves that came to your world."
"Mister Kell?"
"Khan Kell, please," Phelan corrected.
"Thank you, Khan Kell." Kalick shook the young man's hand. "Your people saved a lot of lives. If Giuseppe's forces had broken through that line..."
"I believe we are getting ahead of ourselves," Morgan interrupted. "Secretary Kalick, I would also like to introduce Colonel Daniel Allard, commander of the Kell Hounds."
"Colonel," Kalick greeted, shaking Dan Allard's hand. "Well, where shall I begin?"
"Considering how we are unfamiliar with how your history has departed so sharply from our own," Morgan answered, "I think it is best if you begin with how the Soviet Union broke up."
"The Soviet Union," Kalick began, "broke up in the early nineties. In 1985, the Soviet Union elected a new leader to fix their faltering economy. Mikhail Gorbachev initiated what was known as perestroika and glasnost. He also overturned Leonid Brezhnev's policies toward Eastern Europe, and beginning in 1989, the Warsaw Pact fell apart. By 1990, most of Eastern Europe was under new leadership. Later in 1990, Germany was reunified. During 1990 and 1991, the United States and Soviet Union both sided against Saddam Hussein when he invaded Kuwait, and the US led a coalition of Arab states to drive the Iraqis out. At the end of the year, the member republics of the Soviet Union began to break away, until the USSR no longer existed. In it's place were about a dozen member republics, the largest being the Russian Federation, Kazakhstan, and the Ukraine."
"There's the first difference. For us, the Soviet Union did not break up until the early 21st century," Phelan stated. "And it's breakup brought the rise of the Western Alliance, which became the Terran Alliance, which counted most of the world by the end of that century."
That brought a shiver to Kalick, which the others did not understand but were not willing to pursue. "After the Soviet Union fell apart, the United States began reducing it's military strength. Under President Clinton, the country spent most of the decade with a booming economy. Clinton was succeeded by George W. Bush. Bush at first made a big deal of domestic finances, but eventually his campaign drifted to military matters. He increased the military's size and began planning for an anti-missile defense shield, and after a terrorist attack on the World Trade Center in New York City and the Pentagon in Washington D.C. he led our nation in the hunt to find the responsible terrorists, destroying the Taliban regime of Afghanistan and accidentally sparking a civil war in Pakistan in the process. In 2005, war broke out with China over Taiwan. The United Nations tried to intervene, but with all the controversy about the UN supposedly abusing it's power and our country not paying it's dues, the United States withdrew and made them leave their facilities in New York City. If only we had known then what would happen..."


Morgan Kell watched the tired Secretary Kalick leave his office, being led to a place to sleep by one of Dan Allard's aides, and took a moment to survey the expression on his son's face before speaking. "Phelan, your people made this discovery, what do you think?"
"The Smoke Jaguars have, by now, landed on that planet," Phelan answered. "And the old rule of 'the enemy of my enemy is my friend' will apply here."
"In other words, you think the Jaguars will ally with Chairman Giuseppe's government?", Dan Allard stated.
"More than that. I think the Jaguars will bring in every other Home Clan." Phelan clenched his right hand into a fist. "The Home Clans are itching for a fight. This world, being a bridge between the Inner Sphere and Clan Space, will give them that fight."
"Whatever happens, we cannot let them have that world," Morgan sighed. "And then, we get to the morality of allowing a genocidal madman run free. We have the next Adolf Hitler, or Stefan Amaris, right here. We have a moral obligation to oppose him in any way we can."
"Unfortunately, Father, I've found that morality and politics don't always get along." Phelan snarled, and added sarcastically, "And I'm sure dear cousin Kate will be willing to commit forces to protecting this world without asking for a single thing in return."
"We will see what is said in two months, at the Whitting Conference. In the meantime, send a packet to Victor and Precentor-Martial Focht on Coventry. Let them know what we've found." Morgan looked outside and his gaze pierced the sky, as if he were searching for the distant tear in the fabric of reality that now threatened his homeworld with destruction.
Phelan slipped his finger onto Kalick's laptop computer, which she had left on Morgan's desk, and took out the compact disc that was inside. He observed it for a moment, considering it's size and shape, and drew in a breath when he felt the exhilaration of holding what some would call a piece of history. Even if what was on the disc made him sick in his stomach. "The reactions this will garner on Tharkad will probably be enough to spur at least some support."
"How much can be given is the important question, Phelan." Morgan turned back and eyed his son wearily, his age showing in the wrinkled expression of his face. "Victor has by now come up with a plan on dealing with the Clans, and I'm not entirely sure this will be enough to dissuade him from that plan."
"Sympathy will go a long way, Father, and watching the horrors on this disk should generate plenty of sympathy for these people." Phelan drew in a breath. "I must go now, Father."
"What are you going to be up to now, Phelan?" Morgan leaned forward and set his organic arm on his desk. "The Wolves are not ready for a protracted offensive campaign."
"If I move now and behead Giuseppe's government then this will stop."
Morgan shook his head. "No, because you and I both know that the Wolves, even with the technology gap, simply do not have the numbers to win quickly. It will take time, time that we need to prepare, and to gather our troops. And, I have had an idea."
"What kind of idea?"
"A further extrapolation of Hanse Davion's Training Battalions," Morgan replied. "I wish to discuss this with Doctor Pondsmith of Sakhara before the Whitting Conference, but it may help us overcome a lack of troops in holding this world from the Home Clans."
Phelan nodded. "I'm listening."


The darkness of his bedroom was a blessing to Phelan's eyes as he stepped in the door and shut it closely behind him. He slipped the lock on before beginning to remove the tight and restrictive leather uniform he was consigned by formality to wear. In the corner of his eye he saw the light on in his bathroom. He ignored it, putting his back to the door while placing his uniform in it's proper place in the closet. The reflection of light appeared momentarily on the closet's surface, then a light click coincided with the light's disappearance. Phelan stopped moving and stood, not having to wait long before he felt two arms move around his sides and embrace him. "You seem tense," he heard a lovely voice say.
"Probably because, in the space of one day, I have had my sense of reality blown to hell," Phelan responded.
Ranna removed her arms to let Phelan remove his shirt, and sat on the bed with a towel covering her wet figure. Phelan took a seat on the bed beside her, placing his arm around her waist to pull her closer. Ranna put her right hand on his chin and turned his head so their eyes could meet. "Yes, the entire Clan is in an uproar over Daphne's discovery. I've heard that the scientist caste is already hard at work trying to rationalize it all."
Phelan gave her a small kiss on the nose. "You must watch the language," he teased, "considering that you will soon sit on the Clan Council."
"You are assuming I will win Natasha's Bloodname despite the competition?"
"Yes, I am," he admitted.
"I certainly hope I do." Ranna used her towel to wipe a droplet of water coming from her hair. "I wish she had made it. She would have been proud to see how you have handled yourself here."
"I know. Ranna, about this new world," Phelan drew in a quick breath before continuing to speak, "I have contemplated sending troops, just enough to help our new allies hold their positions and defend themselves should the Smoke Jaguars arrive. Father wants me to be patient, so that he may discuss things with Victor and Focht."
"You will understand if I agree with your father, Phelan. He likely has his own plan in place, something that could be upset if you move alone." Ranna swallowed. "Is it really as bad as they say it is? Daphne's officers have taken to calling this planet 'Scorched Earth' because of the devastation the found."
"The records from the Wolf's Claw confirm what they've said. Several cities have been destroyed, and there are many more that have been damaged in one way or another by warfare." Phelan closed his eyes and remembered seeing the images that Kalick had shown them of Giuseppe's war machine pressing it's way across the globe, destroying anything and everything in it's path. And what made him truly sick was just how much alike Giuseppe was to the Crusaders. And the likelihood that the two would ally, although such an alliance would merely be a precursor to a Clan takeover of the new Terra, considering it's strategic location. "It's like something out of the Succession Wars."
"Perhaps it would be better for them if the Crusaders begin directing the enemy's war effort? At least that way the Crusaders will keep collateral damage to a minimum."
"Maybe, or maybe not. The Smoke Jaguars are just as likely to burn cities to the ground in retaliation for the slightest offense."
"That, we will have to wait and see about." Ranna pulled the towel off and got under the covers, laying on her side to keep in eye contact with Phelan. "Have faith, Phelan. We will not fail Ulric. And neither will we fail these people."
Phelan looked off into the distance for a moment, still quite unable to remove the visions of destruction in his mind. With a sigh, he turned his attention back to his love. He put his legs under the sheet and cuddled up next to Ranna, with an arm over her hip and gently brushing up against her posterior. Her glittering blue eyes shined even in the dim light. He tried resisting the growing temptation to kiss her, and quickly failed, locking his lips to her mouth a moment later.


Upon returning to Morgan Kell's office Janice Kalick noticed that the man and his associates and son were very ill-rested. A couple even showed the same weary expressions that she knew she possessed, and it all indicated that they had spent the night pondering more than sleeping. The seemingly magical portal linking their worlds, their universes, threatened to overwhelm their senses of reality. Phelan and Dan Allard were flanking the desk, with one of the Clan Elementals, a large red-headed woman, and a smaller white-haired woman standing beside Phelan. Daniel was joined by another woman with dark hair and a strong family resemblance to Phelan and Morgan. "Grand Duke," Kalick nodded in respect to the man. "You asked for me to come?"
"Yes, Secretary Kalick. First, I would like to introduce my daughter Caitlin, an advisor to the Kell Hounds, and two of my son's officers, Star Colonels Evantha Fetladral and Ranna." Morgan let them shake hands before continuing, noting with amusement Kalick's apprehension of shaking hands with the much larger Evantha, almost as if in fear that the Elemental would crush her fingers with the hand shake. "Last night, I dispatched a message to some of the assembling leaders of our nations on Coventry and Tharkad, informing them of the gravity of this situation."
"You mean, the other apparent rift in our system?"
"Yes. The one that allowed a Smoke Jaguar ship, assigned to garrison duty in the Homeworlds, to approach as well. I'm afraid, Secretary Kalick, that your system could become a battle ground." He drew in a sigh. "Normal travel between the Inner Sphere and the Clan Homeworlds takes more than a year, due to the limitations on K-F drives and the distance involved. This distance is one of the things that makes the Clans' war here difficult, because of the immensity of their supply lines. But this bridge..." Morgan's eyes lowered. "This bridge that your world has been placed on gives the Clans, all of the Clans, a tremendous opportunity to take the initiative. They can strike into the Inner Sphere directly, moving supplies into position months faster than they could ordinarily. And the Home Clans will be able to push for their inclusion into the war."
"Yes. With a position like this open, Clans like the Ice Hellions and the Hell's Horses will quickly take advantage to seize territory and put themselves in a position to attack the Inner Sphere," Phelan agreed.
"So, your homeworld is in just as much danger as our world is," Kalick said.
"Yes. I am afraid your world is going to become a battleground, Madame Secretary," Morgan said. "In all likelihood, the Clans will throw their lot in with Giuseppe. He's insane, he's easily controlled, and his ideals are more compatible to them than yours."
Kalick nodded but at the same time swallowed hard. I wonder, though, if we would not be so desperate for victory as to accept Clan aid in defeating Giuseppe? It's a good thing the pieces fell where they did. "How much aid can you give us? Right now?"
"Right now? A battalion worth of troops, gleaned from my son's Clan Wolf and my own forces," Morgan answered. "Not a lot, I know, but I have a responsibility to defend the Cordon, and we must at least put on a show for the Jade Falcons while trying to arrange reinforcements for here." He sat forward. "Secretary Kalick, I would ask that I be allowed to see your President. It is important that we begin cooperating as soon as we can, for I have the feeling that it will not be long before the Clans arrive in force on your world."

Accidental triple post

Accidental Quad Post....

Okay, this is getting fucking ridiculous!

How the Hell did this happen?!

It's a good story, a bit fast-paced for my tastes (I like quantity, ala Tolkien, Clancy, Tolstoy...but that's just me).

But jeez, that's the first time I encountered ten double-posts. The fourth post down contained everything so far, as far as I can tell. The rest should be removed to save space on this thread.

Now I find it quite surprising that the "UN" didn't choose to open up a second front in Alaska (even though the defenses there today are relatively formidable), then leapfrog to California, Oregon, or Seattle via a combined sea invasion and paratrooper launch.

And what happened to the world's nuclear stockpiles?

lukexcom wrote:It's a good story, a bit fast-paced for my tastes (I like quantity, ala Tolkien, Clancy, Tolstoy...but that's just me).

Well, it gets slower later on. This is the set-up.

But jeez, that's the first time I encountered ten double-posts. The fourth post down contained everything so far, as far as I can tell. The rest should be removed to save space on this thread.

I have no fucking idea how that happened....

Now I find it quite surprising that the "UN" didn't choose to open up a second front in Alaska (even though the defenses there today are relatively formidable), then leapfrog to California, Oregon, or Seattle via a combined sea invasion and paratrooper launch.

Can't. Terrain, naval superiority of the US in the Pacific, and the lack of good ports for the direct routes.

Most of the UN naval might is in the Atlantic, the more important of the two Oceans. If they transited to the Pacific for such an operation they'd make the Atlantic an American lake, and could possibly see their naval forces routed en route because there are few friendly ports along the way, and no facilities on the other side of the world to adequately support the necessary naval power.

And what happened to the world's nuclear stockpiles?

Some disarmament, plus the advent of advanced ABM shields in Europe and America. Only tac nukes from short range can get in under it. The Russians were going to try it at the opening of the war, but Giuseppe's tac nukes fired first and wiped out their's.... and most of their large army formations (thanks to incompetence in the Russian command brought about by the desires of the Kremlin's politicians).

Steve wrote:

And what happened to the world's nuclear stockpiles?

Some disarmament, plus the advent of advanced ABM shields in Europe and America. Only tac nukes from short range can get in under it. The Russians were going to try it at the opening of the war, but Giuseppe's tac nukes fired first and wiped out their's.... and most of their large army formations (thanks to incompetence in the Russian command brought about by the desires of the Kremlin's politicians).

That still doesnt explain were all the stealth bombers with cruise missiles went.

:edit: Good story too.

How the hell did I miss this story?!?

<adds 'Scorched Earth' too reading list>

ggs wrote: That still doesnt explain were all the stealth bombers with cruise missiles went.

:edit: Good story too.

Never mind, after reading the 1st few chapters to "Apocalypse Dawn" it became overly clear that Modern Day Australia is better of for a global war than the US as depicted in "Apocalypse Dawn". You know the sad part? I can believe some one that blindingly incompetent got into power (why didnt some one assasinate her I dont know)

Well, I read this story as far as it goes momentarily (on the Archive its up to Chapter 10).

Sadly the chapters got shorter and shorter too the end

Very good story though.

One question: The trainers keep telling the Scorched Earthers how they are engaging at ranges a lot greater than anything the Clanners und Inner Sphere MechWarriors engage at and therefore have an advantage.
However, later on they get told, that they will have a range disadvantage in comparison to the Clans.

D.Turtle wrote:Well, I read this story as far as it goes momentarily (on the Archive its up to Chapter 10).

Sadly the chapters got shorter and shorter too the end

Very good story though.

One question: The trainers keep telling the Scorched Earthers how they are engaging at ranges a lot greater than anything the Clanners und Inner Sphere MechWarriors engage at and therefore have an advantage.
However, later on they get told, that they will have a range disadvantage in comparison to the Clans.

They have an advantage in that they'll surprise the fuck out of the Clans by firing at that range.

However, IS weapons still have lesser range than Clan weapons, so when the Clanners get it in their heads to start firing back at those ranges, we're back where we started.

The story is now up to Chapter 17, that being the "RAM THEM UNTIL THEY GIVE UP!" battle on the West Bank.

I thought of advertising Chapter 15 as containing a sex scene (Which it does) here to generate interest, but then realized that I didn't go as far as your local porno writers (since, surprise surprise, I'm not writing a porno, no matter what some smartasses at SB may maintain).

ggs wrote:

ggs wrote: That still doesnt explain were all the stealth bombers with cruise missiles went.

:edit: Good story too.

Never mind, after reading the 1st few chapters to "Apocalypse Dawn" it became overly clear that Modern Day Australia is better of for a global war than the US as depicted in "Apocalypse Dawn". You know the sad part? I can believe some one that blindingly incompetent got into power (why didnt some one assasinate her I dont know)

Who says it wasn't considered?

Unfortunately, the one "secret forces" group capable of pulling it off with impunity got wiped out the following year.

Chapter 17?!

Cool. When you releasing them to the public? Or is there some place to already find it (the rest - I've read the mideast battle chapter - thats how I got interested in the story)?

It is online, but I'm going to be posting it chapter by chapter here every few days or so, since it's easier to take in that way instead of one large 140,000 plus word bite.

Online where? Just for those who are fine with one big bite :p

D.Turtle wrote:Online where? Just for those who are fine with one big bite :p

http://stgjr.racknine.net/btse/tofmain.htm

Bah, you want me to respond? Fine, I'll write what I first posted on SB when I read it.

"What is this blatent mech propaganda?"

phongn wrote:Bah, you want me to respond? Fine, I'll write what I first posted on SB when I read it.

"What is this blatent mech propaganda?"

Oh Christ, I just pointed it out to you on AIM and then added J/K.