StarDestroyer.Net BBS

So about 3-4 weeks ago I was in a story-telling mood in Discord, and in a private message chat with Kartr_Kana I related an incident I'd previously touched in brief when doing the histories of the Royal Federation's Royal BattleMech Regiments. But I had fun with it, instead of just copy-pasting I expounded upon it in a more... documentary style, may I even dare say in wording and phrasing I can imagine a certain BattleTech commentator with a whiskey-loving husky voice using if he were narrating this story. And so I figure I'll just share it with everyone since I spent the time writing all 2,000+ words and then editing and cleaning it up.

At some later date I will probably post other tidbits in this thread, maybe copy-pasted fluff or story bits from the original game, or other materials.


Anyway, we begin with a tale from the worst days of the Terran War. This is the story of the Whittington and Lake Gauley Massacres.











In the year 3057, Whittington was a quiet world of the Royal Donegal March, several jumps behind the lines of the Terran War. It had gone untouched through the earlier years of the war. It seemed the perfect place to set up ammunition production, and to protect that factory, the Armed Forces of the Royal Federation chose to muster and organize the Twelfth Royal BattleMech Regiment and brigade. The unit trained and prepared for the day it would go to the front, returning to their housing every day to the families they loved. The war was still over a hundred light years away.

Then came the day that the Terran 19th Armored Cavalry arrived.

Under the command of General Thomas Furlough, the 19th was on a mission to end Whittington's contribution to the war, butt they had not just come to level the factory complex. No. General Furlough boasted of his ancestry, of his bloodline to the great Terran patriot and hero Amos Furlough, and he was here on a mission to save the Terran people from the barbarian scourge at the gates. With Director-General Kerensky's Reprisal Doctrine orders in hand, he would bring war to those who defied the vision of the unified, Terran-ruled Humanity.

The 12th Royal were a new unit with some veterans in the ranks and knew what to do. When the 19th hit the ground they were ready and the battle was joined. But the 19th were built for this sort of fighting, and even as the 12th Royal held in one sector, lances of swift light 'Mechs were already on their flanks, past their rear, and hitting targets. The 12th's rear guard held the factory despite the costs, fulfilling their duty. But they were locked into combat and could not stop what was to come.

Individual lances, or just dual teams of 'Mechs, broke off from the main battle zones and entered the nearby cities and towns. They had their own mission, and they accomplishing it, leaving burning ruins and broken remains behind. Any dwelling that might conceivably house workers supporting the armaments factory was destroyed with ruthless efficiency, occupied or unoccupied. Another force of Terran 'Mechs and armored infantry overwhelmed the perimeter guards of the 12th's own base, leveled their facilities, and marched into their housing. The civilian dependents of the 12th Royal and its support formations were helpless as the Terrans turned their weapons upon their homes. Even those who had successfully escaped to the safety bunkers were not spared as the Terran battle armor burned through the hatches and hunted them down, room by room, leaving a trail of burned, machine-gunned, and lasered bodies in their wake. When the 19th finally withdrew every family of the 12th Royal, from those of the lowest infantry private to Brigadier Robert Macklin, had been annihilated, with only a handful of survivors who fled long enough and far enough to escape the massacre.

Once the deed was done, the 19th pulled back, abandoning their strike on the intact factory. They escaped on their DropShips with some few losses, leaving tens of thousands of dead civilians in the rubble they left behind. As they burned for their JumpShips the enraged 12th Royal's aerospace group flung themselves into sortie after sortie to stop the escape, but the 19th's defenses proved too strong. The handful of survivors landed to face the comrades, the dead families, they had failed.

The 12th Royal had survived. They'd done their duty and saved the factory. But for the men and women of that new unit the victory tasted like ash. Their slaughtered families left them hollow. No victory in the war, no final triumph, could be complete, and every soul in the brigade felt that realization as they buried their families in ceremony after ceremony. Nobody would have blamed them if they had walked away, if they'd given up, but they didn't. They were still sworn soldiers of the Royal Federation, they still had their oaths, their duty, and to a man the 12th Royal swore to fight on.

You see, Furlough and his soldiers had made a terrible mistake. The 19th Armored Cavalry had wounded the 12th deeply. They had taken the sweetness of their enemies' lives and destroyed it. They had robbed the men and women of the 12th Royal of the happiness that would come with final victory. But they had left the 12th Royal alive.

Two years passed. As regiment after regiment was worn down in the brutal slog the Terrans made of every one of their worlds, the need for frontline forces grew. Terra was looming ever so closer and the might of the Lyran Alliance was already landing upon New Earth. The 12th Royal were called to the front and the forces of OpForce Thunderhead, a contingent of Royal Federation, Principate, and Ghastillian troops ordered to seize the Terran world of Thorin. The campaign for Thorin would not just claim the planet but keep its defenders from reinforcing the TUDF's New Earth positions. The 12th Royal would have the fight of its life.

The Terrans fought hard, as they had on every Union world, and the 12th Royal was in the thick of the fighting for the approaches to Ecol City. Marching along the banks of the Gauley River, they made contact with a Terran force bearing down upon the flanks of the nearby Hyde Lancers. They rushed in to aid their comrades and found themselves facing off against the BattleMechs and vehicles of the Terran 19th Armored Cavalry. Fate, or God, or just random chance had delivered their tormentors into their gunsights.

The 19th wheeled about to avoid being flanked and the battle was joined. They were battle-hardened veterans and regained their poise quickly. Seeing the strength of the attacking force they fell back to regroup. Yet the 12th Royal pursued heedless of the danger, so the 19th Armored Cavalry fell back once more, and the 12th Royal pursued again. The Terrans' reserves caught the 12th Royal on their flank and yet they just kept coming. No matter how well the Terrans' shots landed, no matter how many 'Mechs and tanks and infantry of the 12th Royal died, the Federation troops fought like maddened bastards, driven on by the memories of their slaughtered families, each soul ready to die so long as a Terran of the 19th died with them. From sheer bloody tenacity the 12th Royal overwhelmed the flanking attack despite the losses. Wherever the Terrans fell, a 12th Royal 'Mech waited to end the life of whichever Terran MechWarrior or tank crewman remained. From above VTOLs and aerospace fighters screamed in, delivering attack runs that savagely punished the 19th Armored Cavalry wherever they tried to hold, all while being shot from the sky by anti-air fire. Finally the 19th Cavalry gave it all up and went into all-out retreat, seeking refuge with friendly units near Ecol City. But it was too late. As they tried to flee past the banks of Lake Gauley they ran into the 12th Royal's supporting cavalry regiment. The 19th Armored Cavalry had been outflanked and there was nowhere to run.

Furlough rallied his units into a river gulley feeding into the lake and took stock of the situation. WIth their air support swept away, they had no means of escape. Their damaged machines would never make it through the lake. All that remained was a final last stand or a surrender. And here, Furlough, the man who had happily proclaimed his descent from Amos Furlough, who had insisted he would fight to the last to save his people... he chose to live. The 19th would surrender after all. As the 12th rallied at the edge of the gulley for their final push, Furlough marched his damaged Atlas II forward and lifted a white flag with his 'Mech's remaining arm. He broadcast his surrender on an open channel to the 12th Royal and all their comrades.

From the ranks of the 12th's lines, a single battle-scarred 'Mech stepped forward. It was an equal to Furlough's Atlas, a Gae Bolg Assault BattleMech marked in the 12th's colors. Inside the cockpit sat Brigadier Robert Macklin, the man who had lost everything but his command on that horrible day on Whittington. Now he stood facing the bloody bastards who had killed his wife and children, who had killed so many families of the men and women he led, and with the fields behind them still littered with the corpses of his comrades. And they wanted to surrender. To live. They wanted mercy from Robert Macklin and his grieving soldiers, mercy that they had denied to the 12th Royal's families and all the civilians they had fought to protect. And to that plea, he responded with just one gesture. He had prepared for just such an occasion, and so he flipped a single switch. A flag unfurled above the head of his 'Mech; a flag of blood red with no markings. Every soldier knew what it meant.

No quarter.

Macklin's fingers squeezed triggers and a pair of Gauss-fired slugs cored Furlough's Atlas II, smashing through the engine. Furlough almost passed out from the feedback as his 'Mech fell over. From every edge of the gulley the 12th Royal marched in, firing into the mass of the 19th without mercy, without pause, every shot aiming for head modules on 'Mechs. Whatever hope the 19th might have had to sell their lives dearly ended as artillery and aircraft rained explosive death on them. Many of the 19th died in their machines. Some didn't. Some, like Furlough, survived to flee their broken 'Mechs. They crawled out of the hatches and into the waiting arms of the 12th Royal's armored infantry. The recordings from the armor cams told the story. Furlough himself screamed that he was a surrendering soldier and he invoked the Ares Convention, the same laws of war he'd happily thrown aside on Whittington. But that was all he managed before the Arcadian soldier blew his Goddamn head off with a magshot rifle.

By this time the rest of OpForce Thunderhead knew something was wrong. They'd been too pressed to interfere in the battle, but now a combat command of the Hyde Lancers was rushing to the scene. They'd initially come to fight beside their comrades, but as the screams and pleas for mercy filled the open airwaves, now they were racing to stop the slaughter. But the 12th Royal would not be denied, and they did not waste time. By the time Major Gunther Borden and his MechWarriors arrived, it was over. Every soldier of the 19th Armored Cavalry, every last one, was dead. On that day, the 12th Royal BattleMech Regiment earned the name it has worn in every battle and war since: The Vengeful.

It's easy to say it was just vengeance. But even if so, sometimes vengeance is justice. The 19th Armored Cavalry, and most of their sister regiments, were the embodiment of everything that had gone wrong with the Terran Union. They earned their reputation in the blood and broken souls of their victims. They deserved their fates, whether it was from a war crimes tribunal or because their victims took matters into their own hands. Maybe the world should be better, but often, it isn't, so you take justice where you get it.

If you're wondering, the AFRF wasn't too happy with Brigadier Macklin and his soldiers. Organized militaries tend to prefer their soldiers follow the laws of war, well, unless you're a Capellan or a Kuritan, anyway. Macklin was ready to face them all. He turned himself in right away with his whole command staff. The remaining survivors of the 12th Royal were marched into their DropShips and held until the mess could be sorted out. They'd done their part to win the victory, now it remained to be seen what should be done with them for their own vengeful war crime.

In the end, most of the surviving soldiers were just assigned to new units, and many would leave the AFRF, either by retiring or, well, feet-first, if you get my drift. Macklin and his officers were court-martialed for killing surrendering prisoners. They plead no contest. The evidence was, after all, inescapable. Their lawyers pleaded the circumstances but the gravity of their crime, of the execution of surrendering soldiers, was simply too great. The military court dishonorably discharged them and, in light of the circumstances and their service, gave them suspended sentences on the grounds they keep their noses clean and did nothing to tarnish the honor of the service.

That was no problem for Brigadier Macklin. With his final duty satisfied, he had nothing left. He went back to his quarters, took his sidearm and a picture of his slain wife and children, and put a bullet through his temple. But he did gain some immortality from the incident. It's why, they say, nobody touches civilian targets when the 12th Royal's on the field with you. Nobody wants to be the next dumb war crime-committing bastard to face "Macklin's Mercy."

Laws of the Free March on Potentially Hazardous Fuels and Substances


Substances like propane have been in use for over a millennium by Humanity, generally as gas-burning furnaces, cooking devices, or as fuel for the engines of work vehicles such as forklifts and ice resurfacing machines. Many of these substances are carbon-based petroleum or byproducts of petroleum refining or extraction, as well as natural gas processing. Because they pose hazard risks, they are regulated by the common and civil laws of the Free March's inhabited worlds.

The only law of the Free March on these matters is the Petroleum Product Control Act of 2958, which establishes a minimum guideline for the worlds of the Free March regarding the manufacture, transport, sale, and usage of these products. Beyond these guidelines, the worlds of the Free March have their own regulatory schemes.

To use an example, the regulation of propane. The PPCA provides that propane be mixed with an olfactory additive to ensure it is smelled if leaking from a container, that it be transported under hazardous signage reflecting its combustive possibility and the risks of inhalation, and that commercially-available tanks of the material be clearly labeled and manufactured to specific quality for the purposes of minimizing risk to consumers, including overfill protection devices.

The use of propane varies by world. According to data by the Free March Office of Energy Supply, Concord is the greatest consumer of the fuel, beating out Togwotee and Mariefred. Its most popular use among these worlds is for cooking by fueling portable barbecue grills, a device that is also the most popular on Concord but has wide popularity in Anglo-American communities across the Free March, where it is often employed for large gatherings and celebrations.

Another primary use, as a heating source, is seen in Mariefred's place as the third-greatest consumer of the gas, as the planet's plentiful supply of easily-accessed hydrocarbons makes it the Free March's largest producer of propane. It is a popular fuel for the furnaces of housing in rural and semi-rural areas of the planet, with a number of private services selling the substance by monthly order.

As noted, regulations on propane can vary by planet. Zwenkau, for instance, requires all propane containers not only be engineered to PPCA specs, they must also employ a dual-valve system and be of red color, while requiring empty propane tanks be inspected before they can be refilled and sold. A number of propane-fueled grills and stoves available to consumers on other worlds are not sold on Zwenkau as they do not fit the stringent guidelines the Zwenkau Bundestag has established for such things. Togwotee also requires a dual-valve system, but only requires labeling of the tank, and has more lenient regulations on cooking devices in comparison to Zwenkau. Nestor likewise requires propane tanks be of specific color, but does not mandate the dual valve. Mariefred requires special labeling, a dual-valve, and specific safety features on barbecue grills.

The only world more stringent than Zwenkau is Bondurant, where the Tara Plant Explosion of 2914 that leveled half of the town and killed several hundred people prompted the curtailing of all petroleum product use in the public commercial marketplace. Given the planet's use of a Star League-era microwave satellite power generation network and an accompanying capability for wide scale use of electric cooking, it was not seen as a great loss, despite the protests from the American-descended communities in Bondurant's Steuben-Hill Mountain District. The Steuben-Hill District Rebellion of 2930-2937 was partially attributed to the ban on propane-fueled barbecues and their unpopularity.

And to go with that last post (the result of a flippant/bemused "request" on Discord from the other players back in the game days... the CPM-5 GasMech, for all your propane delivery needs!

So to get serious again before Tev whacks me with the White Mage mallet, what I'm about to post isn't in the Tales thread on SB, though it was posted on SB originally over two years ago. These were the opening introductions for a round of characters I followed in the original GSRPG that became Concertverse, so this is set 110 years before the events of Emergence and Crusade. I've slightly altered the opening headers to fit the format I've adopted for later content. Enjoy!



Ducal Palace
Roslyn, Eastern Islay
Arcadia
Arcadian Free March
30 December 3032


The capital city of the Arcadian Free March stretched out from the balcony of the Ducal Palace. Home to the planet's rulers since the era of the Star League, and the world's time in the Lyran Commonwealth, the Palace enjoyed its place on a promontory overlooking the harbor and Sinclair Bay beyond it. From her place on the balcony, March-Princess Sara-Marie Proctor could see the combination of fishing vessels, pleasure craft, and cargo barges that filled her capital on the daily basis.

Her homeworld was a planet of quirks. Sara-Marie mused, with a quiet grin, on a planet named for a reputedly idyllic region of Greece on Terra that had only a small Greek-speaking minority (her paternal grandfather, Baron Julio Kalios, had come from that community) and with cities named for everything from mid-2nd Millennium painters to old New England towns. Her capital was no different. Supposedly the old Terran surveyor, Henry Sinclair, named the settlement after the legendary Rose Line so important to esoterics and Grail scholars on Terra. Perhaps he felt inspired by the countryside. A couple hours' maglev trip would whisk one away to the environs of Loch Clydesford and the cool, green-covered mountainside of the planet's temperate zone. The ancestral Proctor hometown of New Salem was an hour's maglev trip to the east of that, on the Plymouth Peninsula of the Northern Ocean.

Baroness of New Salem. It was one of her lesser titles, a noble investiture to her grandmother to cement her acclamation as Duchess of Arcadia. The family kept a small estate there for vacation purposes, as much as the ruling family of a Successor State ever got such reprieves from the tasks of state.

Enough of letting my mind wander. Sara-Marie re-entered her personal study. Her eyes took in the paperwork that represented her duties of state, waiting ever so patiently for her at her desk. Above the ornate desk, a portrait of her grandmother in her prime of life continued its quiet vigil of her descendants. The oil painting was made by Tristan de Cunhal, one of the Terran Union's greatest painters of the 30th Century, depicting Duchess Sara Proctor of Arcadia a few years after her victory over the cruel "Prince and High Lord of Arcadia", Carl Tabot. Her grandmother, for all her reputation, had not been an exceptionally beautiful woman. Her face was plain, roundish, perhaps a little rosy. De Cunhal nevertheless caught that shine in her blue eyes, the glint of steel that turned the daughter of New Salem farmers into one of the most romantic adventuresses in the history of the Inner Sphere. A woman who claimed the throne of her homeworld by dint of blood and sweat and tears.

She wished she could remember more about her departed grandmother. Sara had children only later in life, when she was past forty years of age, and Sara-Marie's father William had himself married late as well after serving a long career as a MechWarrior of the Arcadian Guards. She had only wisps of memory as a small child, remembering a white-haired old woman who treated her kindly before she was gone.

Before she could turn her attention to the monotony of State, Sara-Marie's desk vid-phone came to life. The face of her husband, Prince-Consort Thomas Heresford, came into view. "Thomas. Anything I should be worried about?"

"Nothing but the drama one has with a sixteen year old pining for a girl he cannot have," Thomas guffawed. A nobleman of the major world Concord, his marriage to Sara-Marie was one of those arranged marriages that proved stronger than the usual noble match. What they had was love of a sort. Not the fiery, passionate love that poets and musicians touted, certainly, even if they'd had five children. It was the love of two people who knew what duty meant and helped one another bear the burden. "I am more worried about you, dear. I'm told Alex is being a headache."

The invocation of "Alex" - Alexander Proctor, the son of her uncle Jacob and a ranking General of the Armed Forces of the Free March - prompted a sigh and a nod. "The expansionists will not be completely denied, whatever sentiment may wish. I will deal with him as I must."

"Your darling niece will not be happy."

"No, but I am March-Princess, and the future of our people hangs on the razor's edge. I fully expect her to be engaged in the Skye War relief drives anyway." She settled into the desk chair. "You will be back for the New Year's Ball?"

"Of course. It's my place to be at your side."

And it will make the social duties tolerable. Already she could see the line of honorees, the writers and musicians and scholars and business magnates and military officers she would be expected to grant titles to as part of the New Year's Honors List. The list had to be assembled meticulously to keep the people of twenty worlds happy.

If Alex gets his way, it will be more than twenty worlds soon enough… She turned her attention to the paperwork and got to it, wandering what 3033 would bring to the Free March.



Arcadian Guards Base, Fort Defiance
Roslyn, Eastern Islay
Arcadia
Arcadian Free March
31 December 3032


The morning's routines were a comfort to Thomas Proctor, Prince of Arcadia and heir to the throne of the Free March. The twenty-six year-old man, with his brown hair cut to the right-swept military perfection expected of the AFFM, preferred the bivouac and the barracks to the social affairs that his station required his attendance in. This evening would be no exception, with the New Year's Eve Ball as a sort of preliminaries for the New Year's Ball and Honors that he, likewise, would be expected to attend.

War is spreading across the Inner Sphere. Skye, Hesperus, New Dallas… and look at what's been done to Andurien. Not to mention Lancaster. And I have to go dress up to socialize.

The thought aggravated him in the midst of his usual favored part of the morning; piloting rounds. To enjoy the moment, and ready himself, he strode into the 'Mech hangar in cooling suit BDUs. It was a particular innovation from the cooling vests and light clothes that MechWarriors had worn for so long, one that the Free March had every right to be proud of. The twin gold bar with a hawk that marked him as a Captain was one of the few adornments, as was the patch of the Arcadian Guards, a hawk with swept-wings bearing a sword in its talons, a sheared pair of manacles in its wake. His great-grandmother had adopted that patch while leading the War of Liberation against Carl Tabot, and the Arcadian Guards bore it with pride.

For Thomas, there was an even greater reminder of his great-grandmother, the foundress of the Free March. It loomed ahead in the berth where he'd left it the prior day: Sara Proctor's Black Knight.

The machine that killed the Slaver Lord wasn't a standard Black Knight. It was a 6b variant, built right here on Arcadia in Kong Interstellar's BattleMech Factory in the Star League-era industrial complexes outside of the city of Roslyn. Sara claimed the first one to come off the resumed assembly lines when her forces captured the city in mid-2927, a replacement for the Crusader she'd had shot out from under her in a skirmish. Whatever lack of romanticism might come from having not won the war in the 'Mech she started it in, Thomas felt Sara more than made up for it by slaying Tabot in her new machine. She would never fire the guns of her 'Mech in anger again, it was said, as if she and the machine had seen their fill of bloodshed.

It still went down in legend as the Liberator, passed down from Sara to her son William, to William's daughter, and now, to Thomas himself.

The humanoid machine was painted in the red and blue dress colors of the Arcadian Guards. The unit patch was painted in exquisite detail on the chest, over where a person's heart would be. The family coat of arms - the sword of light and gold severing the chain linking shackles on a shield, the family motto wrapped about the emblem - was likewise present on the opposite breast of the machine. The weapons were all energy models, Star League technology, with the PPC an extended range weapon and the large lasers of the Pulse variety. It would run hot, but it could devastate 'Mechs of its weight class with accurate fire.

Not that I would know.

He readied to climb up the gantry to the cockpit when he noticed movement beside him. The long dark hair and sharp features of his cousin, Captain Angelina Grimke-Proctor, prompted his immediate attention. "So, do you think we could just go on extended maneuvers with our companies, Tom?" she asked in a bemused soprano. "We could avoid the entire miserable social occasion."

"Knowing my mother and your father, Brigadier van Reiter himself will get on the comms and call us back in," Thomas sighed.

"Probably," she agreed. By blood they were distant cousins, her maternal grandfather the uncle of Thomas' mother, but as they were born in the same year and raised in the Ducal Palace and the New Salem estate, Thomas felt Angelina to be more his sister than his actual sisters. "Your mother is going to try to hook you up again."

"She worries."

"What, that you'll be like your Grandpa Will? March-Prince William didn't marry young, after all."

Thomas shook his head. "I don't intend to repeat history. If someone proper comes along, well, I'll let things fall where they may."

"And if your parents don't need to marry you off for politics," Angelina pointed out, crossing her arms.

"Yes. True."

"Well, I'm told Duke Rayhan's got a couple lovely daughters, when he lets them out of the house," Angelina grumbled. The reference to the Duke of Dar-es-Salaam brought a twitch to her face. The Rayhans were mostly reconciled to their status in the Free March, but old pride and religious differences could still cause rankling, and Angelina had no love for the strict Islamic lifestyle the Duke and his nobles maintained. "A marriage alliance would consolidate things."

"Or cause even more problems, unless you think the people of Dar-es-Salaam want a Christian Duke," Thomas pointed out. He gestured upward before tapping his timepiece on the outside of his suit. "We don't have a lot of time left. I'd like some time on the range before spending the next two days in my dress reds pressing hands with half of the Free March."

"Fair enough." Angelina stepped away. Her own Black Knight was across the way. "One of these days we're going to need to run Bravo and Charlie Companies through another war game, you know. You might even win next time!"

He flashed her a grin as his reply before scaling up the gantry to his cockpit hatch.


Ducal Palace

The New Year's Eve Ball left Sara-Marie tired and ready to retire for the night. Only the quiet summons her chamberlain passed on kept her from returning to her bedroom to rest with her husband.

Instead, she found herself in a crowd of uniformed men and women, the leaders of the AFFM, wearing their red dress uniforms with blue trim and golden epaulettes. The stars on their collars marked their ranks as generals. At the head of the table the AFFM's Chief of Staff, General Lewis Harding, saluted respectfully. He was a commoner from Concord who rose through deserved merit. If he were from Arcadia or another world of the Free March he would have bowed at the waist, but Concord's people did not defer to nobility so easily. She was used to it, indeed, she found her husband's people to be refreshing with such lack of obeisance. "Serene Highness," he said, using her style fully with his gravelly voice.

Beside him was the quiet countenance of Her Grace Mary Katzenburg, Chief of Naval Operations and the Duchess of Hyde. She saluted as well. Military protocol was more important to her than social conventions. General Sir Moshe Golan, a tan-skinned Mizrahi Jew from Gienah, likewise saluted. He served as the AFFM's Air Marshal, the highest ranking officer to serve in the aerospace forces. Lastly she noted the stern presence of the Count of Ritterwald on Mariefred, General Manfred von Halbach. He was the AFFM's Field Marshal, the senior commander of the BattleMech regiments and other ground forces that defended the Free March's planets.

The other officers, almost all older than Sarie-Marie, made their salutes in turn. She recognized the head of the AFFM Planning Staff for the intent gaze he directed at her. Lord Alexander Proctor was a cousin, the son of her father's younger brother, although her father's late marriage meant Alexander had over a decade on her age-wise. He was a life-long AFFM man, like his father Jacob, and even his daughters and son were all in AFFM red. His wife was the Landgravine of Lowen on Hyde, though he remained officially an ennobled citizen of Arcadia.

When she nodded and the salutes were released, Alexander's eyes remained on her for a moment longer, the crow's feet beside his eyes the product of age and stress. He waited while Sara-Marie took a seat at the smaller table beside theirs, allowing the Command Staff to all look toward her. General Harding took the lead, as was appropriate. "We thank you, Highness, for taking the time to see us before the night was over. Time is running short."

"There have been new developments in the war?" she asked.

"Skye and the Interstellar Council are collapsing," stated another relative. Alexander's sister Tabitha, a noblewoman in her own right styled the Countess of Parnon as a reward for her decades of AFFM service, looked something like what Sara-Marie expected she would be like in twenty years, undoubtedly aided by her time with AFFM Intelligence. "Tabby" (whom no one would ever call such to her face) maintained a grim countenance befitting her wrinkled face and snow-colored hair. She tapped at a computer control and activated a holo-map of this side of the Inner Sphere. Several worlds were no longer showing IGC colors. "The Marik Commonwealth has already successfully detached the Grand Duchy of Zion from the Council. We expect the complete disintegration of the rest of the IGC and its war effort in the coming months, and while some of their worlds may go over to the Consolidant or other powers, we expect Marik will make a number of gains as well. The same is true of Skye, and we anticipate many of their worlds will end up under New Commonwealth or Consolidant control." Tabitha nodded gravely. "I have spoken with our top analysts and they concur with these assessments universally. Our neighbors are about to get much stronger."

"And you fear they will turn towards us at some point."

"It is an undeniable possibility, and poses an existential threat to the Free March," Alexander said.

Sara-Marie folded her hands on the table. "I have personally spoken with the ambassadors of the belligerents, and all expressed their continued peaceful intentions towards us. While I am not naive enough to believe such unconditionally, I fail to see any immediate threat. Neither side will want to introduce ten more BattleMech line regiments to the ranks of their enemies at this juncture. They need time to end the war, replenish their forces, and defend their new holdings. We can use that time."

"Indeed, and that is why we are here, Your Serene Highness." Alexander used the full formal style with clear deference. As far as Sara-Marie could tell, this meant he was trying to be respectful, and thus, trying to win her over immediately.

At the press of a key by Alexander, the map highlighted five worlds within one jump of the Free March's systems. One, Kitzingen, was Coreward of Eilenburg and Dar-es-Salaam. Fianna was another, in the direction of the DefHes Consolidant. Amity, Sheridan, and Gannett were all within one jump of McAffe and Concord, and at times each was the source of aggravating raids on Free March worlds. "The orders are ready. The ships are in place. We can have the units embarking in two days."

So it comes to this then. "You wish to secure the independent worlds before anyone else can?"

"Or before they can establish further defenses and force us to greater lengths to secure them," Harding confirmed.

"Negotiations with Duke Hatzfeld are continuing…"

"He is stalling. That much our intelligence has made clear," said Tabitha. "The Kitzingen defensive forces have been increasing their tempo of training. They know either we or Donegal will come for them. Hatzfeld is too arrogant, he believes he can play us against each other and retain his independence. His daughter is more pliable."

In other words, you would remove Duke Hatzfeld and convince his daughter to accept the Free March. "And you believe we can win with minimal bloodshed?"

"This is what the Arcadian Rangers train for, ma'am. We anticipate that if they do resist, the Rangers will be quite capable of breaking up their defenses. The 24th Militia Brigade will help mop up and secure the planet." Tabitha pressed another key. More worlds lit up. "We feel just as confident about the other worlds, particularly Fianna. The Arcadian Guards alone will make swift work of their militia if they try to fight."

Sara-Marie noted the listed units. Much of the line strength of the AFFM was being committed, including over two-thirds of their naval assets. "Five worlds. You know this will not be ignored by the other planets. Or the other governments."

"They all have their own concerns. And this is just the first wave," said Alexander. "Your Serene Highness, we have a year, maybe two, to consolidate our borders and bring new worlds into the Free March. By then the Skye War will be over, and whatever its ultimate outcome, we will face stronger opposition to any expansion. Our independence itself could be threatened. You speak of time? This is what we must do with our time. These worlds have resources. They will strengthen the economy of the Free March. Every world we add will give us the means to expand our forces and remain competitive. If we fail to take this opportunity, we will eventually be surrounded, and most likely, conquered or suborned."

It was clear that those at the table were all in agreement. The AFFM was officially asking her to let them loose upon the independent worlds.

Sara-Marie wasn't naive, whatever her thoughts. Whatever their ideals, her realm was not innocent of aggression. The Free March's expansion had always been a combination of diplomatic persuasion and military coercion. Dar-es-Salaam, in particular, resisted for years before they accepted the Free March. Father, you would give the order in a heartbeat, I know this, she thought, speaking to the spirit of a man who departed her life a quarter century ago. I know my duty too. But I think of the suffering of these people. The soldiers who will die. My sons, my daughter, who may face battle… That thought struck her particularly hard. She noted the Arcadian Guards were slated for one of the attack forces, so Thomas would be leaving, as were the 1st Free March Cavalry and her second son Mark. And Melissa's ship is in another attack force. Lord my God, three of my little ones face the fire.

"Highness?" Harding's voice sounded almost gentle. "I have had my disagreements with General Proctor, but I have to concur. The race for territory has consumed the Inner Sphere, and we are three years behind the other realms. We must act now, or the Free March may not survive to see its centennial."

"So that is to be it, then?" Sara-Marie asked. "We face the point of the blade, and our choices, my choice, is down to two: Expand… or Die."

"That is the choice, Highness," Alexander said.

A glance at the clock told her that she could beg this off. It was almost midnight. She had the New Year's Honors Ball tomorrow. She could reconvene them then, or the day after, or even the day after that, before making her final decision. They'd have to understand, given her many duties as March-Princess.

But that was the thing about duty. However her heart may quail at times over the necessities of her station, Sara-Marie would not, could not, shirk it. She was the granddaughter of the Liberator. The legacy of Sara Proctor, of all the men and women who died fighting so that Arcadia and her neighbors could be free, was on her shoulders. The responsibility lay with her and no other.

"Then my duty is clear," she said aloud, ending the silence in the room. "Expand."

Color lit up outside the windows of the Ducal Palace, a display of fireworks marking the coming of midnight to the celebrants of Roslyn.

The year 3033 had come, and with it, a new course for the Arcadian Free March.

So! Been a while since I posted something here, but I was re-reading old posts and remembered doing this. It's a fun little vignette I conceived early in my involvement in Shattered Sphere 2020 involving the Terrans, the big kahuna modhammer of that game.

The primary character, Doctor Rachel Proctor-Smythe, is the niece of Arcadia's ruler of the time, Sara-Marie Proctor, and at this point was on her way home from representing her aunt at New Avalon for Concertverse Ian Davion's marriage to Maria VanLees. She stopped at Terra to see the Cradle of Humanity and ended up learning more than she wished to about the guardians of Human civilization at this point in the timeline.





Salem
North America, Terra
Terran Union
8 July 3033


When Doctor Rachel Proctor-Smythe was a young girl, she first met her cousins on her father's side of the family when they visited Roslyn. The Smythe children, mostly her age or younger, were astonished at the size of the buildings, and the sheer number of them, to be found in Roslyn and the Laughlin Capital District. The awe in their eyes at something she took for granted astonished her, although she inevitably understood it later in her life when her parents moved her to the Smythe estates on Ford. While Ford had some cities of note, none compared to the grandeur of Roslyn, especially not the rural district that her grandfather the Baron governed, explaining her family's astonishment.

Now it was her turn to feel the awe.

The cities of Terra made even Roslyn look provincial. Rebuild from the devastation visited by Amaris' takeover and the SLDF's campaign to end his reign of terror, they were gleaming works of art, great spires of ferro-crete, glass, and alloy steel in numbers that surpassed any of the cities Rachel had seen in her life. Geneva, Seattle, Dakar… they'd all been treasures to visit.

Boston, the northern nexus of the great "Bos-Wash Megalopolis" that stretched down to the former American capital, was no less grand. Even this far from the city center, in the township of Salem, she could see the great buildings of Boston stretching into the sky.

Salem was quaint by comparison, like the town her father was given to govern when she was fifteen years old, or its namesake New Salem back on Arcadia. Yet even here, holographic displays and high-definition holovisions were everywhere. Automated taxis provided the residents easy transportation (and visitors too, much to her thanks) around the cozy town, which she felt was being intentionally kept cozy instead of allowing it to grow to become Boston's appendage.

She walked along the main street before deciding to try a local family restaurant. Inside a smiling young woman of light brown complexion invited her to sit. Rachel expected to be handed a laminated menu or invited to view a digital screen, but instead the waitress tapped a small stand on the table. A holographic menu appeared. Not just a list, but with images of the meals. "Would you like anything to drink while you decide your order, ma'am?"

"Ummm… tea. Warm, with a touch of milk," she asked, her eyes still wide at the casual use of such an intricate holographic display.

The waitress tapped at a holographic interface on the tablet she was holding. A curious look came over her. "Is something the matter?"

"No, I just…" Rachel tapped at the menu, changing the page. A second tap created a realistic holographic image of a particular meal. "I'm not used to holographic restaurant menus, that's all."

"Really? Just where do you come from then?"

"Arcadia."

The girl's face twisted into a brief expression that told Rachel she was trying to think of worlds she knew of. "Arcadia… oh, the Free March!" The girl grinned. "Right. Sara Proctor's homeworld. I love those holovids."

Rachel blinked. She knew there were vids of her great-grandmother's life. As a child she remembered the interviewers talking to her great-grand aunt Zoe and her older cousins about them. A docudrama vid series came out, in fact, as did a rather more controversial vid by Pingree-born surrealist Cesar Jorge Motonow that the Proctor family nearly sued over before being prevented by political concerns. But would they have seen them on Terra? "Are you talking about the Motonow film or the Louganis?"

"Huh? I'm talking about the new one from a few years ago, by Michelle Emmerich. You haven't seen it?" When Rachel shook her head the girl laughed. "Oh, right, it was filmed with that new Holo-Real format, you probably don't have those viewers out there yet. You can probably order a viewing in whatever hotel you're staying in. It's an awesome vid, like two hours long but still. I think you'll enjoy it. They even filmed one of the scenes here in Salem, the bit where Sara is investigating her family roots back here and everything and ends up meeting Major Fetladral." She looked up at a newly-arriving customer. "I'll be back with your tea and to get your order."

The girl walked away, leaving Rachel to look over the holo-menu interface. Her appetite felt a little weak now and she couldn't escape the feeling that she'd just been condescended to by the younger woman. Might just be my imagination, she thought, although… no, don't worry about it. See to your needs now.

The young woman returned with her tea and Rachel decided on her order.




After her meal, she continued her trip through the town. A few sites in town made reference to the "Salem witch trials" of 1692, in which over a dozen people were executed under accusation of using magic or witchcraft. A site that named the victims was called the Proctor Ledge, of interest to her given the reference to the family, and the main historical center even had a pamphlet claiming that William Proctor's blood relations were the ancestors of her own family line.

She wasn't sure of that, given the surname "Proctor" was not a unique one - of course, neither was "Steiner" - but it was interesting to think about. Plymouth Peninsula's settlers came from this region hundreds of years ago, after all. They named their towns and cities off the towns and cities of New England. And given how many centuries this came after the death of William Proctor, well, by then the family could have easily spread and mingled with others to the point that he was indeed a distant ancestor of her own.

That said, while the prospect of her family roots coming from this place, and at that time, right now the two regions were greatly different. New England was half-metropolis now, while even Worcester was only a hundred thousand people in size. To this day Plymouth was a rural region and its people, her people in many ways, liked it that way. Whatever these people were once like, they're urban now, like so much of Terra, we have not gone so far.

These considerations were just clearing her mind when she arrived back in Boston. Her aunt's generous stipend meant she could afford a fine hotel, if not a five-star establishment, and she enjoyed the comfort of the suite she'd been given. She still had a couple of days before she could catch the passenger shuttle to the liner Marigold that would be her ride back to Arcadia. For now, she might as well enjoy Boston a little more.

And, out of curiosity, watch the movie suggested.

Two hours and forty minutes later, Rachel contemptuously shut off the holovid display with a remote. She felt furious for her great-grandmother, for the people who fought and died alongside her, and for her entire people. The movie was an insult.

Titled "The Liberator", it'd seemed good in the opening parts. The actress playing Duchess Sara resembled her strongly, and she portrayed her fairly… at first. But then another actress entered the film, playing a character named Major Tamara Fetladral, a MechWarrior of the Terran Union on indefinite leave after a traumatic experience, and the entire thing became an insult. While Sara was set up as the hero of the story, the subtle implication throughout was that Tamara Fetladral was the reason Sara won. Fetladral helped assemble the army and provided the best troops, including convincing the Warrior Monks to join the cause. She suggested the plans of attack, the decision to assault Leuktra immediately instead of safely disembarking in the remaining Greek territories and the liberation of Mull. At Worcester she saved Sara from Tabot, not William Corey, and she was the one who proposed using Sara as bait at Parnon afterward to catch Tabot in the trap. She lets Sara get the killing blow on Tabot and take all the credit, supporting her friend - as the two are depicted as close friends - in becoming Duchess before departing for Terra and a new tour of duty with the Terran Union forces.

Rachel quickly, and furiously, checked the net for information. Tamara Fetladral's only entries were from the movie. I thought the name was unfamiliar. I remember the stories of great-grandmother Sara's struggles. She had some Terrans in her forces, yeah, but not someone like this 'Major Fetladral'. This woman didn't exist!

And then it all clicked for her. The waitress in Salem. The movie. The way people here looked at her. The people of Terra were, bluntly, utterly convinced of their own superiority to the rest of the Inner Sphere. The rest of them, people from Arcadia and Donegal and New Avalon and Tikonov, they were all pitiable neo-barbarians, to be pitied as less advanced or despised as the ones who ruined the beloved Star League (and sometimes both). Nothing they did mattered, nothing they accomplished could be of consequence unless a Terran helped do it. So why shouldn't they be shown as truly responsible for the great deeds of Inner Sphere neo-barbarians?

It sickened Rachel and it depressed her. For years she'd thought of the Terrans as the island of stability in the Inner Sphere, the one state that refrained from war and kept the violent rivalries of the Successor States from getting out of control. They were the protectors of knowledge. Humanitarians who upheld law and sheltered the innocent. She never knew, or at least understood, that it came with conceited arrogance and presumed self-superiority.

It's what they want us to see them as. Maybe they even think it's what they are. But there's this side to them too, that takes their better technology and assumes it makes them better people.

She reached for her noteputer, suddenly uninterested in touring any more of Boston. She'd had enough of the Cradle of Humanity now. Maybe I can get that shuttle a day early and settle on the Marigold before it starts burning for the jump point.

Drew this up on a lark and to solve some mistakes in my OrBat math for the Royal Federation Navy. Then had crazy fun ideas to really play with it and provide some further fleshing out of the dumpster fire that Arcadian politics have been since 3123.




Caravel Flotilla Carrier-Transport (definitely not a WarShip!)

Mass: 500,000 tons
Use: Transport-Carrier
Technology Base: Mixed (Advanced)
Introduced: 3128
Mass: 500,000
Battle Value: 23,689
Tech Rating/Availability: F/X-X-X-F
Cost: 34,869,718,800 C-bills
Manufacturer: Glomgold Industries Shipyard
Primary Factory: Skye

Frame: Glomgold Industries Goldsteel
Engine: McDuff Enterprises Starlift Drive
Armor: Campbell Protective CarbideGuard
Communications: Defiance Industries StarComm
Targeting & Tracking: Glomgold Industries Gold Eye



Dimensions
Length: 600m
Width: 275m
Height: 200m

Fuel: 15,000 tons (37,500)
Safe Thrust: 4
Maximum Thrust: 6
Sail Integrity: 4
KF Drive Integrity: 12
Heat Sinks: 534 (1068)
Structural Integrity: 75



Crew
-----------------------
Officers 32
Enlisted/Non-rated 138
Gunners 30
Bay Personnel 244
BA Marines 78



Overview:
Following the fiasco of Operation MORNING STAR in 3123, the AFRF quickly found itself engaged in
bitter yearly fights for funding with Parliament. Many of the Assemblypersons and Senators were
furious with both the AFRF and the Crown for so brazenly challenging the Peace of Dieron without
Parliament's approval and punished the military by refusing expansions of military spending needed
to expand the AFRF back towards its pre-war levels. This included sharply limiting WarShip
construction; Parliament adamantly refused to authorize any new hulls larger than the light cruisers
and insisted on itemized earmarks for any WarShips that would sharply limit the Navy's ability to fill
out its now-reduced battle fleets.

With the fleets being forced to rely on traditional JumpShips to ferry their full complement of
supporting DropShips and sufficient hulls still two decades away from being available, the Navy was
desperate enough to turn to whatever cockamamie scheme would get it the needed collars. This
resulted in reviewing a tender from Glomgold Industries Shipyards of Skye, a firm that during the
Fourth Succession War built a number of frigates, destroyers, and picket vessels licensed from Blue
Hare and Artemis to meet war needs but which often ran afoul of quality control officers for
cost-cutting that might have undermined the ships' military value. The vessel in question was billed
as a Flotilla-Carrier, mounting ten collars on a 500,000t hull that would employ a Compact K-F Drive
Core and a WarShip grade fusion drive. AFRF designers went over the design and found little fault with
its modest but acceptable armoring and its decent thrust potential, but they quickly zeroed in on what
they felt was a crippling shortage of firepower given the ship would only have eight twin naval laser
batteries. To buy the design instead of a proper WarShip would simply weaken the fleet further.

Yet this proved a blessing due to what can only be described as evil genius by Glomgold Industries'
maniacal CEO, Flint H. Glomgold, who produced a suggestion to the design: cut the little firepower the
ship did have in favor of subcapital weaponry (manufactured by his own company of course), use the
resulting tonnage to make it a carrier, and then list the ship not as a WarShip but as a fleet auxiliary.
The Procurement Department's lawyers were skeptical that Parliament would accept the distinction but
the prospect of adding ten collars per hull to the battle fleets was too much to pass up. The contract
was agreed upon and in the itemized budget the ships, dubbed the Caravel in a mistaken association
of the wide design with the historic carrack, were listed as auxiliary JumpShips. In an amazing oversight
(or what some believe may have been bribery) the Joint Parliamentary Committee on Defense did not
catch this despite the thirty-five billion pound price tag for each hull, a figure well over ten times higher
than even the most expensive regular JumpShip. It would not be until 3130 that an observant
parliamentary clerk noticed the issue in the budget, creating a scandal that saw Parliament close the
loophole and have a very public row with the AFRF on the deception. The initial order of six hulls was
already in service by this point and six more were in various stages of construction and already funded.
The Joint Committee on Defense went out of their way to cut all funding on the contract to prevent
further orders.

While only a dozen are in service with the AFRF, twice that number have been built by Federated-Boeing
at Galax under a lucrative licensing agreement negotiated with the Federated Suns Navy, which has taken
a strong liking to the Caravel for Periphery patrol and support duties as well as fleet supply and offensive
support. Many are baffled by the success of the design given the reputation of the builder, but between
the stringent quality control requirements imposed by the AFRN and FSN and personal supervision by
Glomgold Industries COO Zan Olson, the Caravel contract is considered by far the most successful and
best-conducted business venture that the Skye-based company has ever performed.

Capabilities:
A powerful fusion engine plant produced by Skye-based McDuff Enterprises' Fusion Engine Division
provides the powerful thrust to allow the Caravel to maintain speed (reportedly CEO Glomgold was
infuriated by the use of what he sees as his greatest competitors, but the AFRF insisted and COO Olson
won the resulting argument). Seven hundred and fifty tons of Ferro-Carbide armor made by Defiance
subsidiary Campbell Protective's orbital forges over Luna provide protection from capital-grade firepower,
allowing the Caravel to endure direct hits from even heavy naval autocannon and gauss rifles once or
twice. For protection each arc is covered by substantial batteries of Defiance Industries LightGuard-R
anti-missile system lasers and Matthews Ballistics ClusterShot-2 autocannons for point defense and,
to inflict some damage on enemy ships, pairs of Glomgold Industries Goldbeam lasers (which many AFRF
gunnery crews despise for poor quality). The dual batteries of autocannons each enjoy six tons of
ammunition in their combat-ready magazines. A ship-mounted HPG, mandatory for vessels of this size,
allows for interstellar military communication, and a small-grade naval comm-scanner suite allows for
enhanced scanning capability, though not to the same level of regular WarShips of this vessel's mass.

The main point of the Caravel comes in the ten drop collars mounted about the hull in pairs arranged
for fleet-scale picket warships to be carried. Four fighter bays allow for a fleet carrier-sized aerospace
group of sixty-eight fighters to be deployed to protect the Caravel, its accompanying ships or fleet, or
to support planetary invasions and other ground campaign operations. A large section of the ship is
devoted to cargo space sufficient for sixty-four thousand tons of cargo, giving the vessel a cargo capacity
rivaling the Cornucopia II-class UNREP Cargo DropShip. This allows the Caravel to not only support its
fighters and attached DropShips but to supplement the cargo capacity of accompanying WarShips as
well.

Deployment:
In the Royal Federation the Caravels are currently assigned to each major naval formation of the AFRF,
with the two surplus vessels Caravels maintained in reserve to be assigned to major military offensives.

The Federated Suns' hulls have been distributed to various FSN task forces, with half assigned to Periphery
escort and patrol support duty.

History:
The AFS Barque and AFS Galleass were assigned to provide aerospace support in Operation SOVEREIGN
SUN in 3134, bringing their massive aerospace groups to bear in challenging the DCMS' aerospace defenses
at Vega and preventing them from gaining aerospace superiority over the units assigned to OpForce
Sunstrider. The Barque suffered damage late in the operation when massed aerospace strikes broke through
their CAP but was still capable of seeing the operation through to the end.



Armor
Nose: 156
Fore Sides: 130/130
Aft Sides: 116/116
Aft: 75

Cargo
Bay 1: Fighter (16) 2 Doors
Bay 2: Fighter (16) 2 Doors
Bay 3: Fighter (18) 2 Doors
Bay 4: Fighter (18) 2 Doors
Bay 5: BattleArmor (Clan) (13) 1 Door
Bay 6: Small Craft (6) 1 Door
Bay 7: Cargo (64000.0 tons) 3 Doors

Ammunition:
8,640 rounds of LB 2-X Cluster ammunition (192 tons)

Dropship Capacity: 10
Grav Decks: 4 (200 m, 200 m, 150 m, 150 m)
Escape Pods: 50
Life Boats: 60
Crew: 32 officers, 138 enlisted/non-rated, 30 gunners, 244 bay personnel, 78 BA marines

Notes: Equipped with
lithium-fusion battery system
1 Mobile Hyperpulse Generators (Mobile HPG)
1 Naval Comm-Scanner Suite (Small)
750 tons of ferro-carbide armor.

Weapons: Capital Attack Values (Standard)
Arc (Heat) Heat SRV MRV LRV ERV Class
Nose (106 Heat)
8 Laser AMS 40 2(24) 0(0) 0(0) 0(0) AMS
8 LB 2-X AC 8 2(16) 2(16) 2(16) 2(16) LBX AC
LB 2-X Cluster Ammo (1080 shots)
2 Laser AMS 10 1(6) 0(0) 0(0) 0(0) AMS
2 Sub-Capital Laser /1 48 2(20) 2(20) 2(20) 0(0) Sub-Capital Laser
FRS/FLS (106 Heat)
8 Laser AMS 40 2(24) 0(0) 0(0) 0(0) AMS
8 LB 2-X AC 8 2(16) 2(16) 2(16) 2(16) LBX AC
LB 2-X Cluster Ammo (1080 shots)
2 Laser AMS 10 1(6) 0(0) 0(0) 0(0) AMS
2 Sub-Capital Laser /1 48 2(20) 2(20) 2(20) 0(0) Sub-Capital Laser
RBS/LBS (106 Heat)
8 Laser AMS 40 2(24) 0(0) 0(0) 0(0) AMS
8 LB 2-X AC 8 2(16) 2(16) 2(16) 2(16) LBX AC
LB 2-X Cluster Ammo (1080 shots)
2 Laser AMS 10 1(6) 0(0) 0(0) 0(0) AMS
2 Sub-Capital Laser /1 48 2(20) 2(20) 2(20) 0(0) Sub-Capital Laser
ARS/ALS (106 Heat)
8 Laser AMS 40 2(24) 0(0) 0(0) 0(0) AMS
8 LB 2-X AC 8 2(16) 2(16) 2(16) 2(16) LBX AC
LB 2-X Cluster Ammo (1080 shots)
2 Laser AMS 10 1(6) 0(0) 0(0) 0(0) AMS
2 Sub-Capital Laser /1 48 2(20) 2(20) 2(20) 0(0) Sub-Capital Laser
Aft (106 Heat)
8 Laser AMS 40 2(24) 0(0) 0(0) 0(0) AMS
8 LB 2-X AC 8 2(16) 2(16) 2(16) 2(16) LBX AC
LB 2-X Cluster Ammo (1080 shots)
2 Laser AMS 10 1(6) 0(0) 0(0) 0(0) AMS
2 Sub-Capital Laser /1 48 2(20) 2(20) 2(20) 0(0) Sub-Capital Laser