BattleTech, page 10
Within half an hour, First Battalion had mobilized, following the pattern of march Major Rana had distributed. The DropShips had long since landed in open fields, and early recon footage showed the Sea Fox vessels disgorging Star after Star of ’Mechs, Elementals, armor…
The Foxes were playing for keeps.
But, oh, the brass on these Clanners! They didn’t even bother to pick a good place from which to fight. They’d landed their DropShips—an Overlord-C and a few Union-Cs—out in the open, a dozen klicks south-by-southwest of Regulus City, with clear lines of fire onto their landing zones, no cover for kilometers around. But, Sankar realized, that tactic cut both ways: the Sea Foxes would have unimpeded shots on any Regulan ground forces arrayed against them.
Within an hour of First Batt’s deployment, Sankar spotted the Sea Foxes with his own visual sensors. Countless ’Mechs painted light-blue and steel, several Trinaries’ worth of force, had arranged themselves in precise lines, each one far enough away from the others to deter artillery strikes. But none charged headlong toward First Batt’s front line. None of them moved a centimeter.
Where was all this vaunted Clan bloodlust? And why hadn’t Major Rana given a weapons-free order?
Sankar approached the towering collection of ovoid Clan DropShips with a hesitation he hadn’t felt since his early days with the regiment. He was a soldier, damn it, and he was supposed to fight. What the hell are these Clanners waiting for? Why’s the major still holding the battalion’s leash?
The only explanation that made sense to him was the Sea Foxes hadn’t made any directly hostile maneuvers. Thus far they’d done nothing more than land and unload. As his battalion came to a halt a healthy distance from the enemy, a quick sensor sweep of the various Stars told him none of the Foxes even had their targeting systems active: no one was painting him or anyone in his whole battalion with rangefinders, missile lock, target acquisition gear—nothing…
A lone Vulture Mk IV stepped out from the middle of the vast formation of Clan machines, and began broadcasting in the clear on all frequencies.
“I am ovKhan Matthew Horn, commander of Beta Aimag of Clan Sea Fox’s Spina Khanate,” the Clanner declared without any trace of hostility. “I speak not only to the Regulan troops before me, but to all of the people on this planet.
“We first came to this system to punish the misdeeds of Lester Cameron-Jones for his open hostility to the Free Worlds League. We had hoped our presence would show him the error of his ways without the need to waste resources on violence, but instead, he attacked us with dishonor, with weapons that are abominations to the Children of Kerensky. Your illustrious leader saw your planet shackled, but by attacking us in this cowardly manner, it is clear to us that he now instead wishes to see you destroyed.
“I have a different goal, however. I come not to bring war, but to bring order, to put an end to the privations your leader’s intractable stubbornness has brought upon you. We will begin freely offering supplies for purchase at affordable prices, and we shall purchase at reasonable margins any suitable goods brought to us for export. My warriors will remain here to solely to look after our interests, but make no mistake, we will defend ourselves if necessary.”
Sankar blinked in disbelief at what he was hearing. Hadn’t the Sea Foxes come here to fight, to take revenge for the failed attack on the blockade? Was this some kind of psychological op were they trying to pull? These Clanners should be shooting, not selling.
In the swirl of confusion while awaiting orders, he wondered if the Foxes had brought any Timbiqui Dark to sell. Was that a treasonous thought?
He flexed his hands on his control sticks and shifted his weight to keep the standing Black Hawk 2 balanced. Would anyone break rank and fire the first shot here?
He clicked on the company command channel. “Captain, what are we doing? Permission to fire?”
“Stand by,” Captain Provenza replied.
The line deadened for several long moments, and Sankar clenched his jaw and caressed the safety for his primary trigger while stewing in silence.
What seemed an eternity later, Provenza came back on the line. “Stand down, Lieutenant. We are returning to base in five.”
Sankar blinked, his mouth slack with astonishment. “Sir? I don’t understand.”
“Major said her orders came directly from the Captain-General. So stand down. The Seventh will take it from here.”
“Understood, Captain. But…why aren’t we fighting them?”
“Our mission is to protect the Captain-General at any cost, and if the major says the best way to do that right now is to stand down, then that’s what we’re gonna do. But don’t think we won’t keep an eye on them. If one of those Clan bastards so much as sneezes in our direction, then we’ll blast ’em all to hell. But not a moment before.”
Although Sankar understood, it left a sick feeling in the pit of his stomach as he prepared to march his lance back to base. The Sea Foxes were a dark cloud on and around this planet. Enemy ships had already ruled the skies for weeks, and enemy troops now trod unchallenged on sovereign soil. How was this any different from a true military occupation? Or was this merely an invasion of a wholly different stripe?
Sankar decided he really needed a drink.
14
LEAGUE CENTRAL COORDINATION AND COMMAND
ATREUS CITY, ATREUS
FREE WORLDS LEAGUE
28 APRIL 3147
Before the day’s council meeting, Nikol finished reviewing the latest batch of reports and timetables from her mother, to prepare for any objections the other council members might lodge. Even months into this conflict, she still disagreed with the nature of how Jessica wanted to prosecute this war, but as Warden-General, it was Nikol’s job to ensure the LCCC continued to carry out the Captain-General’s wishes to the best of its ability.
Ever since Jessica had returned to the public eye, Nikol had considered resigning from her office and going back to being a field commander at the controls of her BattleMaster, an 85-ton assault-class BattleMech. Countless units would’ve gladly accepted her as their commanding officer; she’d get her pick of plum assignments. But her conscience always pulled her back to reality—that, and the people who wanted to see her fail. She loathed the way Wallace Stewart always seemed to challenge her with just his defiant eyes in every LCCC session, the way Kenyon Marik’s haughty smirk always seemed to say I will have your job someday whenever they interacted. If she ran off to be a proper soldier, she would leave the League’s military in control of those who would merely rubber-stamp her mother’s outlandish proposals, which would kill countless more League soldiers and risk pushing the nation into austerity measures if matters got too out of hand.
Father always said to be where I can effect the most good. And I have far more influence here, in this role, than I could ever have on a single battlefield on a lone planet. So here I must remain. At least I can attempt to curtail the worst of Mother’s excesses.
First item on the day’s agenda was furthering the preparations for escalating the conflict with Andurien, beyond the border skirmishes the duchy had initiated. In all truth, Nikol did not want to escalate war with Andurien. Duke Humphreys was a wasp capable of stinging, true, but Regulus represented a whole hive of wasps. Angry wasps. Plus, the Sea Foxes’ unsanctioned interdiction of key Regulan worlds—Julietta, did you have a hand in that decision?—had swatted that hive hard enough that further Regulan troops would likely spill into the League’s borders in the coming months.
Once the last few council members arrived and took their places at the conference table, she called the assembled war council to order. “Our first item of business is to address the state of our punitive operations against the Duchy of Andurien. I assume you’ve reviewed the unit recommendations, logistical proposals, and deployment models for this campaign?”
Instead of discussing the Andurien theater, Wallace Stewart called for the floor. “I hate to derail our agenda, Warden-General,” the Minister of Defense said, concerned and visibly pale, “but have you not heard the news?”
Nikol’s eyes narrowed in suspicion. Were they withholding information from her now? “I beg your pardon, Minister? What news?”
“Tamarind-Abbey has been attacked by Marian Hegemony forces. I just received word on my way here.”
Nikol froze, as though he’d struck her in the solar plexus. “I beg your pardon?”
“Marian troops have seized Atzenbrugg and Lepaterique. And yes, you heard correctly. Not raided. Seized. Rumors persist of further targets.”
Nikol’s gut twisted. In her opinion, the Marians were little more than jumped-up Periphery pirates pretending to run a legitimate interstellar nation while conquering their neighbors in the Periphery. What had made them so bold as to believe they could try conquering League worlds? Fontaine Marik’s personal feud against the Lyran Commonwealth had taken enough of a toll on his duchy’s troops, meaning Marian invaders could wreak substantial havoc if left to their own devices.
She looked up from the reports Wallace had forwarded to the whole council, her schooled features masking her concern. “Is this—is it true?”
“The latest courier vessel brought confirmation of the two initial attacks, from three independent sources.”
Nikol closed her eyes a moment. Of all the League’s many neighbors, only the Wolf Empire, the Capellan Confederation, and the Republic of the Sphere had not attacked in recent years. The FWLM was already stretched thin to cover all of the nation’s borders, and actively waging a defensive war along most of them was not sound military strategy.
She opened her eyes and regarded the rest of the council. “What do you recommend?”
“We need to quiet one or more of our fronts,” Wallace proposed. “The Lyran Commonwealth is currently distracted with fighting the Jade Falcons, and we have blunted the Magistracy’s ambitions in the Rim Commonality. Fighting the Anduriens is one more war than we can afford right now. I respectfully ask you to petition your mother to postpone her invasion the Duchy of Andurien, at least for the time being. And I am sure other members of this council would agree.”
Nods of assent filled the chamber. Nikol and the rest of the LCCC members were in perfect accord: invading Andurien right now was the wrong course of action, especially in light of this new threat. All she needed now was to convince her mother to change course.
“I will see what I can do,” she said.
15
REGULAN STRATEGIC MILITARY COMMAND HEADQUARTERS
REGULUS CITY, REGULUS
REGULAN FIEFS
2 JULY 3147
Lester Cameron-Jones fought to retain his temper during the RSMC Military Council briefing, but flashes of rage still slipped through his otherwise calm and controlled demeanor. A tightening of the lips, the clenching of a fist, the furrowing of a brow. Were Emlia here, she would find a means to calm him, but that wasn’t possible. She would try to dissuade him from making the hard choices that would be needed to end the continuing Sea Fox blockade.
All of the chaos inflicted on his capital had pushed his people to the brink of calamity. The live video footage he’d watched on the way to the council chamber—angry, violent demonstrations in Regulus City and in front of the Palace of Mirrors—had tipped the scales of decision. He’d exhausted his mountain of patience. Now other means were called for. Unsavory means.
With all of the RSMC’s generals arrayed around the ring-shaped table before him, Lester stood to address the assembly. “My esteemed generals, our nation is beset by an unusual enemy. Clan Sea Fox moves like an invasion force, but they claim no planets. They largely ignore our naval forces—and only retaliate if we attack them. Yet they board or attack on sight every civilian transport with suspected commercial cargo. They seek to wage a war of coin, not bullets.
“Though the Sea Foxes are a vassal state of the Free Worlds League, Jessica Halas—may she rot in hell—claims the Foxes are acting without authorization. But instead of bringing her rogue forces to heel, like a legitimate ruler would do, she has turned a blind eye and has let these…blockades and naval strikes continue.”
The generals around the table frowned and grimaced, as all of them had felt the repercussions of the blockade in some way.
Lester tapped a control, and a floating map of the Regulan Fiefs and its neighboring worlds sprang to life within the holotank inside the ring.
“As of this moment, Sea Fox warriors are holding position outside Regulus City. We have blockades in this system, and in the Harmony, Tiber, Wallis, and Clipperton systems, but SAFE—” He gestured toward Gustav Salazar, Director of Regulan SAFE, sitting two seats to his right within the ring. “—believes we may see more before we can find a resolution. The Sea Foxes intend to squeeze us until we capitulate.
“If this oppression endures, if the Foxes continue to demand a complete economic interdiction of this and other Regulan worlds, then we are looking at a federal crisis. We’ve already seen rising unemployment, runaway inflation, and major protests. This cannot stand! We cannot let bullies and thieves dictate Regulan policy.
“But our navy is no match for theirs. Our January 31st attack on the Regulus and Harmony blockades resulted in abysmal failure—all hands lost. We cannot rattle our sabers loud enough to chase them off. Our every effort thus far has been shot down, costing us invaluable equipment and personnel, and if we strike at the Aimag troops sitting within line of sight of my palace, the Sea Fox navy will undoubtedly call down the full force at their disposal. This means we cannot take a direct military approach to break this blockade, not without severely injuring or killing ourselves in the process.”
As he spoke, Lester found himself clenching his fist tighter and tighter, but forced himself to relax before moving on. “To chase off these pirates, we need to take a more…circuitous route.” He spread his hands to solicit his generals and advisors. “Does anyone have any thoughts to offer on the matter?”
Over the next hour, Lester’s generals offered a number of possible approaches. Most of the proposals involved the Sea Foxes directly: assassinating ovKhan Matthew Horn; baiting the passive Beta Aimag warriors into openly attacking the on-planet Regulan Hussars, to justify retaliation; setting the Sea Fox stores to the torch, so they had nothing to sell, and blaming the damage on civilian rioters; further stripping precious naval forces for another last-ditch strike on the blockade; and so on. But Lester, Salazar, or one of the generals quickly shot down these plans down as infeasible for myriad reasons, most of them involving the worry that aggrieved Sea Foxes could leverage orbital strikes to further punish the planet.
During the discussion, every member of the High Command had taken the floor to propose a plan—everyone save a single soul: Lester’s top military aide, Major General Fred Marshdale. The gray-haired, leather-faced general had waited in relative silence throughout the war council, which made Lester narrow his eyes with concern. What’s going on with you today, Fred? Forget your morning coffee? Marshdale’s arms were crossed, his bushy silver beard twisting in a frown beneath his crooked nose. Something unspoken stewed behind those hard and faraway eyes.
Lester matched Marshdale’s dissatisfied expression with one of his own. “General Marshdale, do you have anything you’d like to add to this discussion? Something is clearly on your mind.”
The general shifted in his seat as though a ruminating dragon finally opening its wings, and cleared his throat. “I do have a thought, Captain-General, but…it is risky.”
Lester shook his head. “Out with it. The time for playing it safe has long passed.”
“All right.” Marshdale steepled his fingers and eased back in his seat. “I believe our problem is not the Sea Foxes. They are merely a symptom. Striking them may earn us a temporary reprieve, but it will not solve our long-term woes. Our true foe is the woman sitting on the throne of Atreus.”
He took a deep breath.
“I propose we remove her from the picture. Permanently.”
16
OUTSKIRTS OF THE WINTER PALACE
DORMUTH, MARIK
CLAN PROTECTORATE, FREE WORLDS LEAGUE
14 JULY 3147
Major Jintara Damri of the Fourth Regulan Hussars couldn’t think of a more apt name for her battalion’s distant target while she and First Battalion approached the battle. Winter Palace, indeed. If not for the array of sensor suites in her Orion, she wouldn’t have been able to spot a damn thing in this blizzard. Like many soldiers, she preferred the visual sensors she’d been born with, but the electronic kind—the ’Mech’s infrared and magnetic anomaly detection suites—would do in a pinch. They highlighted her targets ahead despite the inclement weather, letting her focus on the Spirit Cat warriors defending the palace from the assault Second Battalion had already initiated.
A part of her would’ve preferred directing First Battalion from the comfort of the commander center in her DropShip back at the LZ, but she needed to be out in the field for this fight. She couldn’t let everyone else in her command hog all of the glory or take credit for this strike. The Fourth needed a solid victory after their last disaster.
At the current range and heading, only her Gauss rifle and long-range missiles could reach enemy ’Mechs standing between her and her objective, but with low visibility in the snow, she needed to conserve Gauss rifle ammo for surer shots.
Fortunately, she had other options in her arsenal. Relying on her sensors, she painted a distant Mad Cat III with her Target Acquisition Gear’s laser, then called in a strike. A half-dozen salvos of long-range missiles arced down from the snowstorm like a hundred bowmen loosing their arrows once, a sledgehammer pummeling the 55-ton Spirit Cat ’Mech into the snow like a railroad spike.
