[PsihoKekec]

any street of Mozirje

Not that there many of those  . Oh right, space Mozirje, never mind then.

[Daryk]

Tyr Corps!  Woo!   

[drakensis]

Triad, Tharkad
Protectorate of Donegal, Lyran Commonwealth
6 March 3033

Katrina Steiner was not at all smug that Melissa's stay on Tharkad had been prolonged by pregnancy. Hanse's visit the previous summer had been fruitful and by the time the Archon returned from NAIS, her daughter was entering her third trimester. While jumpship travel wasn't an overwhelming risk for pregnancy, it wasn't advised at that point and for a royal heir, every precaution possible was being taken.

"Actually, I'm a little worried," she confided to Nondi, watching her two older grandsons waddle around in the snow with Nondi's grandchildren Sabine and Lucien. They were all wrapped up warmly and Patrick was ecstatic that Andrew was now able to toddle after him. The younger boy was smaller and quieter than his brother had been at this age but certainly didn't lack for determination to try to catch up. "Melissa's spent almost as much time pregnant as not since she got married."

Her sister folded her arms. "She seems healthy and happy."

"For now, but if she keeps this up..."

"Have you asked her about it?" asked Nondi.

"I have," Katrina admitted. "She says she wants her children now while she can share their childhood, not when she has a throne to juggle."

"Have you seen her workload?" scoffed the Archon's sister.

She nodded. "Also, she wants a daughter. Three sons -" The third being the newborn Morgan Ian Steiner-Davion. "- is fine but she says she wants a little girl as well."

Nondi chuckled darkly. "I pity the girl with three brothers like that. Patrick's very protective already. Any daughter wouldn't just have to navigate her father once she was old enough to date."

"Hanse has a fine collection of sporting shotguns," Katrina noted. "I saw them at Castle Davion. It will be a brave man who courts a Steiner-Davion daughter."

"As they should," her sister said and they both laughed in agreement. "If you stay healthy, she may have time to see them grow up before she takes on even more work. I'd blame her husband for the work-ethic but we both know she gets it from you."

Katrina grimaced and turned away from the window. "The candle that burns brightly, burns quickly," she said, retreating from the cold brightness of the day into the softer light of the sitting room they were in.

Nondi followed her. "You told me the treatments helped but you always evade when someone brings up the projections."

"I don't put faith in those. The doctors themselves admit that there's no reliable way to be sure."

"I also know your plans before the treatment involved lasting until Melissa was as old as you were when you took the throne," her sister challenged.

For a long moment, Katrina considered insisting on a change of subject, but then her shoulders sagged. "Five, maybe ten years longer. If I'd been treated sooner... well, who knows? And I'll be... impaired for some of those years."

Nondi walked up behind her and wrapped her arms wordlessly around the shoulders of her elder sister.

"If... if I abdicated then less stress might mean a year or two more."

"You could abdicate the throne," her sister said flatly, "But stop worrying? Hah."

Katrina raised her hands and rested them on Nondi's. "At least I know the Commonwealth will be in good hands. However much Melissa gets up Selwin's nose."

"The man's a fool."

She shook her head. "Not entirely. He'd be well enough if he understood his limits. And I could wish that Ryan wasn't wed to his daughter. That's going to be a mess." Ryan was dynamic enough that he'd be functionally Duke of Tamar when Selwin passed, even if Morasha Kelswa would hold the title. And it was far too early to say how their son Robert would turn out.

"True enough."

Katrina lowered her hands and pulled away gently. Nondi went to the window and glanced out at the children. "How do you feel about another war?"

"I'd rather not," the Archon said honestly. "But the arguments are sound: the Rasalhague situation is going to blow up in someone's face so it's best to be the Combine's and not ours. If Kelswa had just listened to someone else about how to manage the worlds he was administering..."

"What did you say about understanding his limits?"

"Touche." The elder sister sank into one of the armchairs. She felt older than she had, medical treatments or none. "And Hanse is right, there's no better time than now with the Free Worlds League still leaderless and looking at Andurien."

"The longer they leave that unresolved, the worse it will be," Nondi diagnosed. Janos Marik remained comatose and while there was insufficient backing for Duncan Marik's desired military solution to the secession, there was also no solid support for any compromise that his cousin Duggan could negotiate with the Humphreys. Ironically, the one thing that might have been agreed upon - war with the Capellans - would require war with the Federated Commonwealth, something that all sources agreed was unpalatable to the League's Parliament. The crushing outcome of the Fourth Succession War seemed to have terrified many of the membership, one reason that border garrisons weren't being reduced to gather forces against Andurien.

"You mean he's right."

The younger Steiner scowled at the playful jab. "I don't question his competence, just his priorities."

"We both know what's out behind the Combine," Katrina told her. "Could be that Tamar is at risk, or the far end of the Draconis March. But even if the Clans come right through the middle of the Combine whenever they do come... It'll take everything we have to stop them."

"Wolf's claims about their skills must be exaggerated."

She gave her sister a frustrated look. "Do you disbelieve the technology?"

Nondi's face was pinched but she shook her head.

"The warship numbers?"

Another shake of the head.

"And the Wolf Dragoons have proven that they are capable mechwarriors," Katrina concluded. "Even if these 'trueborn' of those are no better, isn't that enough of a threat?"

"I suppose so," Nondi admitted grudgingly. "And this Armed Forces of the Federated Commonwealth Melissa has planned... that's a good answer to them."

"Approval at last," the Archon said lightly, amused that her sister credited Melissa rather than Hanse.

The general snorted. "It could do with more Lyran influence though."

"What would you like me to do?" Katrina asked, thinking back to conversations with Yvonne Davion. "Transfer the Royal Guards to them?"

"What?!" exclaimed Nondi. The three regiments of the Royal Guards were among the elite of the LCAF but two were permanently posted to garrison Tharkad.

"Eventually we'll want to fold everything across," Katrina pointed out. "But you're right. The Royal Guards aren't an ideal fit while they're a rapid reaction force. And we have few small corps, unless we break them up." The LCAF's battlemech forces were for the most part made up of four corps: the Arcturan Guards, the Lyran Guards, the Donegal Guards and the Lyran Regulars. "Can you imagine the howls if I decided to send the Skye Rangers."

Her sister snorted. "Yes, yes, I can. But it's not enough to have Lyrans joining the AFFC as individuals. The regiments are from the Suns side, so they will have that ethos and doctrine whatever Frederick does. We need at least an example." Nondi paused and then grimaced. "Offer Winfield's," she said as if the two words physically pained her.

"Winfield's Brigade?" Katrina turned the idea over in her head. It was just a single regiment, but they were modelled on one of the premier raiding forces the Lyrans had had in the early Succession Wars.

"It'll show the Feddies they're not the only ones who understand mobile tactics," her sister pointed out. "And we can encourage expanding them under a commitment to the AFFC."

"Not now?" she asked, playing devil's advocate.

Nondi moved behind the couch and leant on its back. "Not on the schedule we have for forming the AFFC," she admitted. "Melissa's tapped every source I can think of for cadet cadres, provincial militias and Tyr... If we want the stockpiles we'll need to support Rasalhague then we can't form more new regiments. Not to mention finding the mechwarriors."

"I'd agree," Katrina concurred. "Alright. I'll talk to Frederick about the idea before bringing it up to Yvonne Davion."

"That should be an interesting conversation," her sister warned.

"I will talk to Frederick and Melissa," she corrected herself. "She can keep him in line, Blake knows how."

Nondi circled the couch and sat down. "You spoke of abdication earlier."

"I did," she admitted, wondering where her sister was going with the idea.

"I think this will be my last war," her sister observed quietly. "Melissa wants time with her children... and I want time with my grandchildren. I'm not committing to when, wars are unpredictable, but afterwards I want to hang up my uniform."

"Of course," Katrina said immediately and saw a hurt look. "You've done more to help me than any two other people I can think of. If this is what you want, of course I support you."

Her sister relaxed slightly. "I was thinking... Melissa talked about another new war college, like the one on Buena. Placed on Bolan, well away from the Clans."

The Archon chuckled. "Only you would think of founding a new military academy as being retirement, Nondi. But I would be glad to assign you to that."

"It would look better than simply going back to Gallery," her sister told her and then smirked. "And it means being further from Tharkad when you drop the bomb of shifting one of our corps entirely over to the AFFC."

"I might leave that to Melissa," Katrina muttered and heard the welcome sound of her sister laughing at her.

On * Our * Wedding * Day

Fox's Den, New Avalon
Crucis March, Federated Suns
4 September 3033

Frederick Steiner wasn't unfamiliar with underground command centers like the one House Davion had burrowed under the mountains behind their main residence. Like its Lyran counterparts, he could see how it had been modified over the centuries - modernization, in this case, meaning the removal of technology that could no longer be supported over the course of the Succession Wars.

As he followed his guide, he saw a technical team busy replacing what he recognised as a bank of computer processors. Given NAIS' vaunted achievements, that was probably reversing some of the previous downgrades. Frederick wondered how long it would be before the Lyran headquarters being similarly restored to full function. It took him a moment to recognise that he was wondering when, not if.

Melissa was making quite an impact, he admitted privately and tried to remind himself to be sensibly cautious of Davion ploys. Healthily sceptical. Politely critical.

Why had he accepted this task?

Oh, yes. Now he remembered. It was Aldo Lestrade's fault.

"Sir?" his guide asked. "We've arrived."

Frederick realised he was grinding his teeth. "Good," he said, forcing himself to focus on current matters, not past betrayal.

The junior officer pushed open the door. "General Steiner, ma'am."

"Thank you, dear," Yvonne Davion said pleasantly. "Do come in, General."

Frederick obeyed, finding the silver-haired woman behind her desk. The office was somewhat packed with storage boxes, rather detracting from the elegant furnishings.

Yvonne must have seen what he was eying and smiled wryly. "I moved from my old office to give young Ardan room and there doesn't seem much point to unpack everything when I'll be retired soon."

"I see." He rested one hand on the back of the chair facing her desk and paused for permission to sit.

"Make yourself comfortable," she invited. "I imagine you'll be in and out of here fairly often."

"Most likely," he admitted. "I read the briefing documents on the way here, has anything much changed since I left Tharkad?"

Yvonne smiled. "We haven't changed the plans for operations against Dieron yet, but I don't think Melissa will be able to keep Hanse from looking them over again forever."

"You may be underestimating my niece."

"She's good," the old field marshal told him with a weary air. "But no one is that good. Anyway, there has been a change to AFFC forces so that will need some re-evaluation."

Frederick frowned. "Are we no longer getting Winfield's Brigade?" It didn't seem likely that the Federated Commonwealth regiments or Federated Commonwealth Armored Cavalry would be withheld at this stage.

Yvonne shook her head. "The other way around. There will be an eighth AFFC regiment available for operations next year. I'm not in favor, honestly."

"Who?" he asked bluntly.

She leant back in her chair. "What's been called the Warrior House regiment."

"Warrior House?" He spent a moment trying to place who that would be, finally finding the name in his mental roster among the former CCAF. "I thought those were all destroyed."

"Not entirely," Yvonne told him regretfully. "The battlemech battalions were wiped out in Romano's Folly, but they had infantry, all of whom were - in theory - back-up mechwarriors. I'd have been perfectly happy to see the Warrior Houses disbanded, but Duchess Liao argued their merits so effectively that the First Prince decided they could be best used by the AFFC. A way to give the Capellans a stake in us the way Winfield's are the Lyran presence."

Frederick rubbed his chin. He didn't know much about the Warrior Houses, not having ever seriously considered fighting the Capellans himself. What he remembered suggested fanatical loyalty to House Liao. There had been eight, with two battlemech battalions each and - apparently - a third of infantry. "You said regiment, singular?"

"Each has been allowed one company of 'mechs, grouped as a single somewhat understrength regiment," she confirmed. "And you get the infantry as well, so the better part of a brigade."

"That could come in handy," Frederick noted thoughtfully. Dieron was one of the most protected worlds in the Draconis Combine, almost as much so as Tikonov in the previous war. "What's the long-term thinking for them?"

Yvonne looked a touch smug. "Up to you. In principle, Hanse has at least been cautious enough that he's not looking at allowing them to go past a 'mech battalion each in future. That would fit with using them as an  elite response force in a crisis."

"Such as the Clans," he observed.

"Such as," the old woman agreed, "The Clans. Frankly, the Warrior Houses' training practices are closer to what Wolf has told us about Clan customs, so we might be able to use like against like."

Frederick grunted. "I'll need to refresh my memory on them. What are they cleared to be briefed on?"

She shook her silver head. "If you mean the new weapons, nothing now. I think Hanse wants to see how they behave under your command first."

He made a disgusted noise and saw Yvonne smile sympathetically. "You'll have to get used to working with him. Look on the bright side, after working with Capellans you'll be well prepared to handle integrating the Avalon Hussars and the Arcturan Guards."

Frederick scoffed. That was going to be more than a bit challenging. The oldest and most storied corps of the AFFS and LCAF respectively, those regiments would more than triple the size of the nascent AFFC, but their traditions would make it a difficult transition. "At least I just need to work with them in the coming campaign, not deal with bringing them across at the same time."

"Small mercies," Yvonne agreed. "Your staff will be looking for officers and NCOs who might be best transferred out before they can be points of friction. Hanse has plenty of vacancies for sideways or even upward promotions if we need them, and no doubt the fighting will create more."

"What's the current churn?" he asked curiously.

"Three March Militias being rebuilt," the old marshal told him. "Not as dramatic as Melissa's plans, but we don't have the output, not to mention having to half-rebuild the forces defending the Andurien March as well." She shook her head. "I'm increasingly amazed Mad Max managed to keep them fighting in the state they were in."

Frederick grunted. "What do they have now?"

"With the Red Lancers and Blackwind Lancers folded in as the Eighth and Ninth, that leaves her five St Ives Lancers regiments," Yvonne told him. "Then six March Militias, but it'll be a while before those are working together properly."

"They have to adjust to having officers above the rank of Colonel," he pointed out.

"Another reason I'm amazed they kept going that long." She shook her head. "Anyway, we have ten other commands riding herd on them, an even split between mercenaries and RCTs. It's enough to keep Andurien honest."

As Frederick recalled, they also had a border with parts of the Free Worlds League to consider, those parts not facing the Tikonov Republic. One of the less desirable aspects of Hanse giving Melissa that region was that the Lyran's external borders were now far longer than those of the Suns. It was one reason that creating an independent Rasalhague made sense: shortening the border with the Combine.

"That's more forces than Tamar or Skye has," he observed. House Kelswa had no permanent forces outside their ducal guards, while the Isle of Skye only had four regiments left of the once mighty Skye Rangers. He didn't understand why they had both objected to creating March Militia equivalents.

"The Lancers outnumber the Robinson Rangers and Syrtis Fusiliers," Yvonne agreed. "And we'll be counting on them to watch our backs when the Clans come."

Frederick nodded. "Not our problem, thankfully. We just need to get the AFFC ready for the Clans." He'd heard discussion of the special weapon programs Yvonne had mentioned, programs that would benefit the AFFC first. None would be ready for this war unless it lasted longer than expected, but it was something to look forward to.

"You're right," Yvonne agreed and checked the papers on her desk. "So let's start with the most urgent matter."

The Steiner nodded in approval. "Then -"

"Your uniform!"

"My... uniform?" he asked.

"You're going to be the face of the AFFC," she pointed out. "The first time people see the AFFC in action, you will be the one appearing in the media. You doing that in Lyran uniform would be sending very much the wrong message."

"That's..." She was right, but this was not what he'd been expecting for the first day. "You're wearing an AFFS uniform."

"I'm just an administrator making plans," Yvonne reminded him. "When you appear at court next week to be appointed as Marshall of Armies you need the proper uniform, so we should get you set up now. You need to be used to it, not chafing like a green cadet still getting used to it."

"I've only been on New Avalon four hours and already someone's trying to undress me," Frederick complained. In theory the post would make him the equal of Edward Regis or Ardan Sortek, even though he didn't yet have any regiments under his command.

The old woman chuckled. "A bachelor your age should be used to it. Don't worry, we didn't make it all fussy for you. Most of my staff served as models while we were working it out, so we could check that it was possible to actually work in them. Did you know there was going to be a cape at one point?"

"I hope you axed that idea."

"Both that and the notion of separate uniforms depending on one's state of origin. Defeated the entire idea," Yvonne said scornfully. "We kept those silly cumberbunds you Lyrans insist on though."'

"It's called a school rag," Frederick corrected her.

"A scarf around the waist is a cumberbund as far as I'm concerned," she told him. "And have you ever worn spurs before?"

"...no." Damn, Feddie mechwarriors did, didn't they? "You included those?"

"You get used to them," Yvonne tried to reassure him, though her twinkling eyes undermined the attempt. "After a certain amount of property damage. That's one reason to get in practise now..."

"My first decision is that those are optional," Frederick said firmly. "You can design what you want, but I'm amending the uniform regulations."

[worktroll]

[Daryk]

I can't wait for the catch-up posts from Space Battles!  So many comments I wanted to make, but not bad enough to create yet another internet account!

[drakensis]

Imperial City, Luthien
Pesht Military District, Draconis Combine
20 March 3034

Theodore Kurita found his father sitting in a pavilion in the gardens. He opened his mouth to greet the Coordinator and then saw the tea set laid out. Past experience kicked in and the Warlord of Pesht closed his mouth to a thin line, sitting down opposite the head of House Kurita.

A servant approached, unprompted and brewed the tea, carefully cleaning every utensil before using it.

The younger Kurita saw his father savor the contents of his cup when it was served. The aroma of his own was admittedly redolent with the odor of the finest tea from Echo V. "The children are doing well."

The Coordinator of the Draconis Combine nodded.

"Has mother done something new with the garden? I don't recall those blossoms."

"I think she has," the Duke of Luthien agreed absently.

"I'm thinking I should grow my mustache out again."

The Unifier of Worlds' lips quirked up slightly. "I doubt my daughter-in-law would appreciate that."

Theodore didn't quite manage to restrain a groan of frustration.

Takashi Kurita finished his tea. "Marcus has more patience than you, my son. There is a time for hasty action and a time for reflection."

"Our borders with the Federated Commonwealth are on fire from one end to the other," he pointed out. "My district is only unaffected because we have no such border. If you feel that the situation is under control, shall I go back to Pesht and wait until it is the only military district we have left?"

"I don't believe the situation is quite that bad," his father told him in a measured voice. "Although you are otherwise correct. The situation is serious, but our response should be measured."

"If you're basing that off the briefings I have seen, then I feel they're grossly optimistic," warned Theodore. "Reports from Rasalhague act as if Ivan Sorenson being captured is the worst reverse faced, when there are major uprisings on more than a dozen worlds and three spearheads heading for Rasalhague itself."

Takashi nodded genially and took the teapot, pouring himself another cup. "The reports from the other districts are more realistic than those from Rasalhague. The Fox is testing our mettle, but the uprisings are the real threat."

Theodore opened his mouth, then paused and sipped his tea to cover for thinking. "You mentioned Marcus."

The Coordinator inclined his head fractionally in approval. "You are the second of our House to remonstrate with me over the matter. More diplomatically in our cousin's case," he added drily. "He is quite passionate about Rasalhague, having been the Warlord there at one point."

"Before you put him in charge of your security."

"It was remarkably effective in reducing assassination attempts," his father told him. "Any injury to me now points the finger of suspicion at him."

Theodore decided it would be best not to remind his father of the inconvenient truth that Takashi had been commander of the Otomo when one of them turned traitor and murdered the then Coordinator, Takashi's father Hohiro. Fingers had certainly been pointed at his father, and Theodore saw no particular reason Marcus couldn't have handled it in the same way.

"I assume you'd like me to ask what he recommended?"

Takashi gestured lightly with his right hand, causing ripples in the tea it held. "He requested permission to return to Rasalhague and bring order out of the chaos." He paused. "I granted his petition."

Theodore sighed. "If he succeeds, he will be insufferable."

"If he succeeds, he will take the throne." The older Kurita smiled thinly. "Which would only require a miracle."

That bad?

The question must have shown on his face because Takashi drained his cup. "We are going to lose most of the district," he said matter-of-factly. "Perhaps if House Marik were in any way effectual, they might divert enough forces to let us turn back these attacks but..."

"It might have been best if Thomas Marik wasn't the only one who died," Theodore observed. "Whichever of Duggan or Duncan survived would at least command fear, if not respect."

For the first time, he saw his father's true feelings, a snarl of distaste. "Alas, the loss of Thomas left them more concerned for their security. I would not have thought that any Marik would make me look fondly on Janos Marik but..." He shook his head and the mask of civility descended. "But since you feel so much urgency, let us not dwell on impossibilities."

"There will be no support from the Free Worlds League," Theodore summarised. "And with the current attacks, pulling forces from Benjamin, Galedon or Dieron is hardly practical."

"Regular forces, at least," his father agreed. "I have authorised such reserves as I can make available, but Marcus will for the most part need to depend upon the Rasalhague Regulars." He paused. "He made no request for the Legion of Vega. Nor of your Pesht Regulars."

"So he does not know," the younger Kurita concluded, relaxing slightly.

"It would seem not," agreed Takashi. "Which does not prove that the Fox is unaware, but does raise the possibility." He leant forwards. "What do you have?"

The warlord smiled eagerly. "Reinforced by survivors of the Genyosha and Ryuken, the Regulars have been brought up to a level of training comparable to those of the other districts... and they are at more than one hundred and sixty percent of their paper numbers. I recommend that each retains two battalions to act as a cadre for further expansion, while the others become a reformed Genyosha, Ryuken or similar."

"So you propose leaving six under-strength regiments to guard your district and take six full strength regiments and the four from the Legion of Vega and..." his father trailed off invitingly.

"We could buy time and bargaining power in Rasalhague," Theodore thought out loud. "But Marcus would be enraged at the interference. You are setting him up for a fall?"

"Someone must take the blame, and it is best that he takes the bulk of his supporters with him when he goes."

It was coldblooded, but that was how his father was and Theodore knew there was no use - and perhaps no benefit to - trying to change that. "Then we must fight the Federated Commonwealth."

"How do you propose that we do so?" the Coordinator asked.

Theodore considered the reports he had received. The LCAF were striking along a broad front, while the AFFS was mostly focused on the old Galtor salient. And then there was the combined attack on Dieron itself. "I am tempted to say we reinforce Dieron," he said slowly. "But that would have many of the same problems as Rasalhague: Cherenkof and I would quarrel again, and it allows the initiative to remain with Hanse Davion."

"And his bride."

He remembered Dromini IV and the goading of Frederick Steiner, who was reportedly commanding the fighting around Dieron. "And her, yes. I think the right move is aggressive. If we show that we still have the strength to strike into their realms, Steiner and Davion will both settle for Rasalhague's independence."

"It is a weakness, or it can be," Takashi concurred. "The Fox and the Lioness both concern themselves with the sentiments of those they rule more than they should."

"You have always told me to be more considerate of politics." Theodore couldn't resist the jab.

His father's eyes narrowed. "Of politics. Not of the peasantry. The ISF has long been working to undermine the confidence of those ruled by our enemies in their own security. Forcing Davion and Steiner to disperse their reserves to assuage such fears will eliminate those regiments as surely as a dozen of our own could."

Theodore nodded in concession. "I agree. I should strike at Marduk. Davion has covered for his losses in the area more than once by claiming 'yes, but we held Marduk'. He cannot ignore the risk of losing it now."

"A good thought," Takashi agreed. "I am almost tempted to join you, that would certainly provoke him..."

He tried to hide his dismay at the idea, but his father shook his head.

"No," the head of House Kurita assured him. "I said almost. This is a gamble, Theodore. If things go well, you will make your name and I can endorse you further as my heir. If you do not..."

"If I do not, I will have to take responsibility in a way that shields my children," he said directly. "I do not wish them to face the fate Akira suffered."

His father's eyes shuttered. Yorinaga Kurita had been almost another brother to him, though the kinship was less close. Yet after the disgrace in 3016, Takashi had done nothing to protect Akira and only intervention from the young man's maternal grandfather had let him take the Brahe name and make something of himself.

And then, on Northwind, he had lost his father again. More permanently.

"He is with you?" Takashi asked.

"He is."

The Coordinator nodded slowly. "I have a mission for him. Send him to the palace."

"What do you have in mind?" he asked warily.

"A quest that, if he succeeds, will justify granting him the Kurita name again," his father promised him. "We must yield Rasalhague once Marcus has made a sufficient show of resistance, but that does not mean giving it up to the Lyran's proxy without laying the groundwork for internal opposition. What do you know of the Scandinavian People's Army?"

"One of the resistance movements to our rule in Rasalhague," Theodore said with a shrug. "Their leader is... Magnusson."

"Indeed." His father set down his tea cup at last. "Sorenson called him the Silver Fox, so elusive was Haakan Magnusson. But he was our prisoner once and we have a profile on him. The man is ambitious... and he is not one of Mansdottir's allies, at least not directly. We will need an intermediary to negotiate through and any concessions granted through Magnusson will raise his status."

Theodore turned the idea over in his  head. "You think he can keep Rasalhague from becoming a proxy to the Federated Commonwealth."

"The best we can hope for," Takashi admitted. "Since Steiner claims she will allow them to be neutral, we will make her choke on those words. Brahe spent much of his youth on Rasalhague, and he represents a close tie to me. If he can find Magnusson, he will be an ideal representative."

"And if Marcus finds out and cuts Akira's head off?" Theodore asked sharply.

Takashi raised his empty hand and mimed pouring something out on the table. "There is a reason I offer such a high reward for finding the Silver Fox," he said simply. "But I have faith that my old friend's son will not fail me."

"And in your own son?"

For a long moment Takashi did not reply and then he shrugged slightly. "Of you, I expect even more. Marduk is a good idea, but I suggest dividing your forces and striking at Quentin as well. Davion has invested there and it is one of his few sources of heavy battlemechs..."

On * Our * Wedding * Day

Nadir Jump Point, Skye
Federation of Skye, Lyran Commonwealth
4 May 3034

Ryan came through the jump holding onto the arms of his seat. He didn't suffer Transit Disorientation Syndrome - that would have disqualified him from aerospace training - but that didn't endear the experience to him.

"Check the newsfeeds," he ordered his aide Joachim, who was already doing so. Unbuckling himself, the young duke moved to the side of his wife. "How are you, Morasha?"

"I'm well, Ryan." But she covered her mouth for a moment and then reached for a vomit bag.

He opened it for her and activated the small pump that dragged everything coming out of her mouth in, not letting it float free in zero gravity. It would be a little while before their dropship detached and began thrusting towards the capital of the Isle of Skye.

"I'm sorry," Morasha apologised, after wiping her lips with a wet wipe she stuffed into the bag before it was handed off to one of the attendants for disposal.

Ryan took her hand and shook his head. "There's nothing to apologise for, but perhaps it's best that Robert remained with your father."

A part of him would have preferred that his family was secure on Porrima, but his thrice-damned cousin and her Provincial Militias had made a joke of that! It could not be a coincidence that his ducal residence on Porrima and the Furillo estates he'd grown up on with Uncle Alessandro were both on worlds 'honored' with the formation of small armies loyal to Melissa.

Some of his advisors had suggested that this was an opportunity to build loyal forces: it would have been easy to stack the recruitment for Furillo and Porrima's Provincal Militias with officers sympathetic to his concerns about the direction being taken by the Commonwealth, but Ryan was too canny to fall into that trap. No doubt LIC would be carefully watching and what he would be doing was feeding the identities of his supporters to Simon Johnson and the Archon.

No, as little as he liked it, his homeworlds were no longer safe except for limited visits. The Porrima planetary militia he controlled wouldn't stand a chance against that level of firepower, and he didn't even have that much sway on Furillo.

That left Tamar as a refuge, and perhaps soon Skye would be counted as the same. The last reports had confirmed that demonstration marches by Free Skye were boiling over, protesting that their worlds were being left exposed by the Archon's continued adventurism.

"One further report from the Suns," Joachim told them. "Niles has fallen to Davion... I'm sorry, 'been liberated'."

Ryan shook his head. "Irrelevant." The world was tiny, poor and as far from the Commonwealth as any in Combine hands but it was one that had been lost in the last war so no doubt Hanse Davion would tout its recovery loudly. That might play well in the Suns but it would carry no weight on Skye. He doubted that more than one in ten of the peasantry on the streets would even know where Niles was.

And that, of course, was for the best. They only needed to know what their betters told them.

"Is there any news of my uncle?" the duke asked, moving from his wife's side.

Joachim consulted with the staff members checking sources. "Nothing new. With Altair secured, he was moving his headquarters to Dieron but it's unlikely he has arrived yet."

"No news is good news," Morasha counseled.

No news meant no disaster, Ryan thought. And right now, a disaster for Frederick would be very useful on many levels. His uncle going from a deadly enemy of the Archon to a grudging supporter would have been bad enough if he hadn't also helped Simon Johnson to reach Aldo Lestrade's private files. Oh, his name wasn't openly linked to it but how else could LIC have done such a good job of finding evidence on the Duke of Summer's supporters?

That network could have been very useful in the right - Ryan's - hands, but of course if Frederick Steiner didn't have the guts to take on the usurper and her daughter then he would also ensure that no one else had the opportunity.

"You're right," he said gently. "And we probably don't have to worry about Dieron."

The district capital was heavily fortified: it wouldn't be taken easily. But at the same time, the invasion force was formidable: Twenty-Fourth and Twenty-Fifth Arcturan Guards, Seventeenth and Forty-Second Avalon Hussars, the Third Federated Commonwealth Regiment and that rabble of Capellan Warrior Houses, backed by two dozen conventional regiments. Even if Ryan's uncle died, it would be unlikely to do more than delay the outcome.

"Sir!" Joachim raised his voice. "There's something new!"

"What?"

Ryan moved across the compartment. The timing was key, he had a wing of aerospace fighters with him: a sign that one Steiner did concern himself with Skye's security. But arrival and revealing that depended on timing and anything that alarmed Joachim like that must be worth attention.

If things boiled over before he arrived, or worse, if someone managed to restore order despite the creative incapability of Skye's law enforcement that his allies had arranged...

Fifty hours, the duke thought. I just need fifty hours. Less if we burn at more than one gravity... Which would be hard on, and hard to justify to, Morasha.

Joachim pointed wordlessly at one of the screens, typing commands to direct whatever channel he was monitoring to display there.

An instant later, and the screen lit up. In one corner, the spinning logo of the SKye Observer - an outlet not generally sympathetic to Katrina Steiner. The shot itself panned across a crowd bearing Free Skye slogans, but their march towards the central business district of New Glasgow (the capital of the planet easily recognisable from the iconic buildings in the background) had been stopped by a pair of tanks parked sideways across the avenue.

"What are those?" Ryan muttered, trying to identify the green-painted machines. He was more used to seeing combat vehicles below him but even so he should be able to recognise them from this angle and being much more closer than his cockpit usually was to a target.

"Brutus heavy tanks," Joachim told him helpfully.

"Damn."

"What does that mean?" Morasha asked.

"It's a Capellan design, built in what's now the Tikonov Republic," Ryan told his wife. He knew the design by name, he'd just never seen one directly. "The AFFS buys them up. Is a Davion unit deploying?" That would be inflammatory. Good news, but maybe a little too soon.

Then the view flickered closer. To someone standing on top of a tank.

Someone that Ryan recognised immediately.

Joachim touched another control and a familiar voice cut across the compartment.

"People of Skye!" Melissa Steiner-Davion called through a handset she held in one hand. She wore LCAF fatigues, but she wore a baby sling over it and there was a child strapped to her chest. Without a helmet, her blonde hair and facial tattoo were clearly visible and identifiable.

Morasha leant forwards. "Is she insane? Is she taking her baby into that mob?"

"People of Skye," the usurper's daughter repeated, voice echoing as slightly out-of-sync loudspeakers repeated her statement. "I hear you!"

Ryan saw the crowd slow. Thousands of people couldn't stop immediately but there was enough distance.

"I know you have heard so many voices demanding that you heed them," the small blonde told them. "But who hears you? Who hears the voices of Skye?" The baby she carried seemed excited, waving his little arms.

Melissa used her free hand to hold what had to be her youngest son, the one named for the older Kell. "We hear you," she promised the crowd. "I hear you! My little son hears you! My mother hears you... and Margeret Aten hears you as well!"

The duchess of Skye, easily recognisable, climbed up to stand with Melissa. Ryan saw movement around the tank and guessed that there was a substantial security detachment behind them, ready to move out if the crowd reacted badly.

"You fear for your security!" Melissa called, pointing out at one of the placards. Ryan couldn't see what it said, but he could guess. It was probably one of those printed for them by Free Skye's financial backers, using slogans pushing the right messages.

Those messages talked about the abandonment of Skye by the Lyran military. Now Melissa was playing off it!

The young woman spread her hands. "Fear not!" she called. "While our brave soldiers fight to free Rasalhague from the Combine, we are not unaware that the Kuritans may lash out! These tanks are just a small part of the reinforcements I have brought with me from the Tikonov Republic."

The camera pulled back and Ryan bit back an enraged snarl at the sight of 'mechs marching across an intersection behind the tanks. "The Republican Guards have been deployed for your protection!" Melissa called out. "Five regiments of battlemechs committed to fill the gap where you could have, should have, had your own Militia!"

There were catcalls from the crowd, but they were weak and incoherent.

Margaret Aten took the handset from Melissa. "My people," she said warmly. Voice slower, calmer than Melissa. Who had coached her? The woman was politically weak and inept, no surprise since she was depending on Katrina Steiner to maintain control. But that wasn't how she sounded now.

"My people," the dusky duchess declared. "Two years ago, the motion to establish a Federation of Skye Militia like that in the Protectorate of Donegal failed when discussions with the nobility of Skye broke down."

Ryan clenched his fists. The same lords and ladies who backed Free Skye for political power, who supported him... who had instigated these riots... Those were the same ones who had feared the power of a Militia under the control of Duchess Aten and of the Archon.

Now that was being turned against them.

"Darling," Morasha said uneasily. "She has entire regiments with her. Bringing eighteen fighters..."

"I know." It would look pathetic by comparison.

"Together with the Duchess of Tikonov, who can afford to bring regiments to our aid because she has such a Militia within the Tikonov Republic, I have appealed to the Archon and requested her consent to overrule the objections of the selfish nobility to this necessary measure."

The crowd fell silent. Watching, waiting.

Melissa held out her hand and Aten handed back the handset.

"On behalf of Archon Katrina Steiner," the younger woman announced. "The establishment of the Skye Federation Militia with a strength of six battlemech regiments: each supported by brigades of infantry and armor, are approved. LCAF personnel to form cadres are being sought at this time and recruitment offices will be opened on every world in the Federation."

"Battlemechs don't come from nowhere," muttered Ryan.

Melissa Steiner-Davion reached into her vest and produced a letter, having to move quickly as her son Morgan tried to clutch this new and interesting thing. "Not a toy, dear," she murmured, and there was laughter from the crowd.

It was hard, Ryan thought, to make a crowd hate a young mother with a baby in her arms.

"The CeresArms factory on Tikonov have accepted my order for one hundred Vindicator battlemechs," the Archon's daughter declared. "Purchased as my personal commitment to the security of Skye. My province may be across a border, but we are all Lyrans together."

"Sir?" Joachim asked.

Ryan walked robotically back to his chair. "I need to think." This entire plan was ruined. The question was how to extricate himself without being burning his bridges or being humiliated. Or both...

[drakensis]

New Pontiac, Marduk
Draconis March, Federated Suns
18 June 3034

Alanna Damu's Victor had undergone major repairs since the fighting on Ares. Almost every 'mech in the Syrtis Fusiliers had enjoyed that option after the Capellan surrender left the Hasek's traditional enemy as an... ally? The Liaos were now simply another march lord and that felt wrong...

Her 'mech felt wrong too. It had been handed down through several generations and she'd grown up with quirks that were the result of improvised repairs where components hadn't always been available from the distant factory on Quentin, or captured Capellan supplies from St Ives.

Now the Federated Suns controlled both factories, and proper parts were made available through AFFS supply lines that seemed significantly more responsive than she was used to. There were mutterings that the new Duke had worked out whatever issues had resulted from friction between New Syrtis and New Avalon. Some also claimed it was Yvonne Davion, one time Field Marshal of the Capellan March and later Prince's Champion, who had been holding a grudge and that her retirement was responsible for the improvements.

Many of those quirks were gone now, leaving Alanna overcompensating for problems she hadn't noticed until they were gone.

And none of those repairs had fixed a problem that wasn't due to damage or alternative parts. The Victor was an in-fighter, designed to get close and smash up opponents with the heavy autocannon and secondary weapons.

That was a problem now because the Kuritan forces were hitting harder than they should be.

The Victor shook under autocannon fire from well outside her ability to fight back. Not just outside her own range, but from a range she couldn't close up before they pulled back.

"Are the DCMS always like that?" someone snarled in frustration over the command net.

"They aren't," she shut that down. Common understanding of the Federated Suns was that the DCMS was a more deadly foe than the CCAF. It had certainly influenced the level of forces and supplies provided to the two Marchs. Of course, the Combine had come close to taking New Avalon during the First Succession War. The Capellans had never posed an existential threat. But this... this was different.

This was technology.

"Pull back," she ordered, checking the formation of her battalion. 'Mechs were being battered and they weren't delivering comparable damage in return. Soon she'd start losing 'mechs and that wasn't something she could justify. "I'm calling in a smoke screen."

The Fusiliers' artillery was ready and waiting. Green gas hung between the two sides, but as Kuritan 'mechs darted through it to harry the retreating AFFS mechs, they didn't show the signs Alanna had been briefed to recognise.

Either her people had done so little that the gas wasn't affecting the myomers, or this was something else, she thought. Something that her command wasn't ready for.

"Major Damu," a voice cut through on the regimental net. It wasn't regimental command, it was higher. "What are you dealing with?" General Solomon Hasek asked.

"We're facing equal numbers," she told the commander of the RCT. "But they've an edge in mobility and firepower. Maybe armor too - I'm pulling back to regroup."

The general paused and she could almost see his eyes narrow. His face was a lot like Morgan Hasek-Davion's, just older, more lined. "Good call," he confirmed. "You called in gas... is it having any effect?"

Alanna felt a flight of LRMs scrape armour off one shoulder of her Victor. She felt helpless. Hated it. "It's a smokescreen," she told her commander. "But none of the incendiary effects reported from facing the Capellans."

"You're not the only one reporting that," Hasek admitted. "We're seeing more of this. Our artillery is needed, but you have first call on aerospace strength. Break contact if you can, but get back to the fortification line around the city." The city, New Pontiac, planetary capital. Where she'd started the day.

"I understand." It meant they couldn't reconnect to the garrison at the Norse-Storm factory. "Sir, how are the Tenth Deneb doing?"

Hasek grunted. "Better than we are. Those swamps are working out again. I'll have to let them know we can't support them."

The problem was that that meant the DCMS were able to concentrate at will against either one of the AFFS concentrations on Marduk. There were two Regimental Combat Teams on the world, but Theodore Kurita had arrived with the First Genyosha, a designation that suggested that there might be a second such regiment, as well as the Second and Fourth Ryuken. More regiments that had - as far as Alanna had known - been disbanded after the Fourth Succession War.

Three to two by numbers, and being on the back-foot in terms of technology. That wasn't a recipe for victory and they both knew it.

"We're playing for time," her liegelord's cousin added. "I've reported our situation and we can expect reinforcements."

Those reinforcements would be weeks away though - Operation Caliburn was smashing through border forces on worlds around Marduk but pulling regiments out of the reserve would at a minimum mean travelling from their cantonments to jump points and then travelling to Marduk from its own jump point. And if they were instead drawn from the frontline then they would have to disengage...

"It feels like we're letting down the First Prince," Alanna admitted. "That's going to hit morale as hard as... maybe harder than the fire we're taking."

A lance of LRM carriers that had been in the rear line flung missiles up and over her Fusiliers towards the enemy, then scurried away before return fire from something called a Bombardier plastered where they had been with a dense volley of LRMs. Hopefully the carriers could keep up with the retreat, they weren't all that fast moving and were thin-skinned.

"We're pulling Combine reserves away from Rasalhague," Hasek told her. "That's as important, maybe more important, than retaking worlds here."

Neither mentioned the possibility of losing Marduk and the valuable Norse-Storm battlemech factory.

"We'll want detailed reports on what you're dealing with," the general continued. "As well as suggestions on how we counter them."

"They've got a lot of range," Alanna allowed. "I'm hoping that we can use the forest as cover."

"Good thinking, major. I'm not going to argue that this isn't rough, but present it as a challenge to be overcome. The Fifth Fusiliers have handled everything that's been thrown at us thus far, a few Kuritans sporting weapons they must have dug out of a cache isn't going to be the end of us."

With that ringing endorsement, Hasek ended the conversation and Alanna was left to handle the brutal calculus of the battle. Slower units had to be ordered out of line to run back to where they might be able to fight more effectively, a category that included her own Victor. Lighter and faster mechs and supporting vehicles would have to provide a screen without necessarily having the armor or weapons to fight back - not because they were expendable but because they would be depending on the heavy and assault machines once they got to a defensible situation.

The forest was an hour's march behind them, and as Alanna pulled back to a crossroads that was her first rally point, she saw support vehicles carrying everything from munitions to medical teams streaming back towards New Pontiac.

"This is Major Damu," she identified herself on the proper network. "I'm going to need air support in the next fifteen minutes or my battalion isn't going to be able to keep the Kurita's off our supply tail."

"Understood, Major." The aerowing coordinator was coolly professional. "We're rotating a Corsair to give high cover within five minutes - as soon as they're in place I can send in a wing of heavies loaded for ground strikes. Ten minutes after that, I can have militia air-breathers above you, but they will need cover."

"How long to have those airbreathers carrying infernos?" Alanna asked with brutal directness.

"...fifteen minutes, Major. We'll need to have their existing loads pulled."

"Do it," she ordered. It was a brutal demand, because inferno bombs were dangerous to use, but a 'mech soaked in the gel they carried would be ablaze and forced to manage heat more cautiously. In the best case, they could be left shut down and forced to pull out of the battle until the flames died down.

The officer grunted. "I've sent the orders, Major. I hope you know what you are doing."

"Right now, I'm throwing everything I can at the wall, fire included."

The first bombing runs hit the Combine's leading elements just short of the crossroads, buying enough time for the light and medium 'mechs to break contact. They'd bought the time for the rear elements to escape but it was going to be a tense hour to see if the Fusiliers could do the same.

As Alanna lost sight of the crossroads, she saw a double dozen fighters streak across the sky at low altitude. Slower and less capable than the earlier aerospace fighters, they bore in bravely and three quarters of them made it out, the other six spiraling out of the sky as flames raged across the battlefield behind her.

Some of the Ryuken she was fighting fell back but others plunged onwards, fiery war gods striding unbothered by the inferno gel clinging to them.

"Blake damn them," she hissed as she continued to retreat. "They have freezers."

Rumor had it that refits with those highly desirable cooling systems were coming, but they hadn't been issued to the Syrtis Fusiliers yet.

"Hold together," the major ordered her battalion. "They didn't all make it through that, they don't have the numbers to break through." Hopefully, the Fusiliers didn't hear her doubts. Certainly, the formation was maintained as they continued their retreat towards the defences around New Pontiac.

On * Our * Wedding * Day

Imperial City, Luthien
Pesht District, Draconis Combine
20 July 3034

Takashi Kurita looked at the garden and sighed.

One of his ancestors - Taragi, if memory served - had laid out this part of the palace as a representation of the universe as he saw it. The black marble disc near the centre with the dragon of House Kurita carved into it was Luthien and around it the other worlds of the Draconis Combine, more black marble with the size of each marking the significance of a planet.

Flowers grew along the edges: blacks and purples for the periphery, white and gold for the Federated Suns, blues for the Lyran Commonwealth and a patch of purple for House Marik. There had been a green section until a few years ago, but the gardeners - obedient to the instructions established by the Court decades before Takashi's own birth - had carefully removed them in one of their quarterly updates that also shifted the flowers to grow over the worlds held by other Houses.

There would be need for green again in the future, Takashi thought. To mark an independent Rasalhague.

"Grandfather." A young voice behind him, Hohiro's voice piping and not yet broken by adolescence. A moment later, the boy's sister repeated the acknowledgement.

"Children," he greeted them, turning and seeing his wife and daughter-in-law were behind the two children. "I see you have escaped your studies for the day."

"We have completed our studies," Omiko corrected him boldly and then smiled. "And we came to see you."

"Are you being rewarded or am I?" he asked, gesturing for the two to join him standing upon the marble marker of Luthien.

Hohiro, several years older than his sister, steadied her with one hand. "Perhaps it is both."

Clever boy. "Perhaps it is," he agreed and reached down, lifting the six year old girl up. "What do you see here?" he asked and used his free hand (soon he thought, he would need more than one arm to carry Omiko), to gesture around them.

The small black head of hair brushed his cheek as she looked around. "It's the Combine," she declared confidently. "Look, there is Pesht." She reached around and Takashi turned obediently. "There's New Samarkand! And Galedon," she added, clearly recognising the symbols on the larger stones.

"Clever girl," he confirmed and set her down. "And you, Hohiro? What do you see?"

His grandson looked around and then indicated the flowers. "Our enemies."

Takashi felt his lips quirk and then thought of another Hohiro and sobered. "Our adversaries," he corrected. "Rivals to the Dragon. Our enemies, our most dangerous enemies, do not make themselves as obvious as those flowers."

Rasalhague would not be such a mess without you, Father, he thought sadly.

There had always been a strain between Rasalhague - an independent principality, a conquered territory, a free people again and then a willing partner in the Combine. They had joined the Draconis Combine when House Kurita was re-established in the Twenty-Fifth Century, long before the customs of ancient Japan had been encouraged in those loyal to the Chrysanthemum Throne. And the proud Rasalhague people had been the most recalcitrant in taking up those ways.

Even so, it had been a minor dissent. Murmuring and a quiet pride in their own ways that other Coordinators had chosen to smile at. "Tell me, Hohiro, do you know what the rebels in Rasalhague take as their banner?"

"A great serpent on a shield," the younger Hohiro told him. "Jomun-Gund-Her?"

"Jörmungandr," he corrected the pronunciation gently. "Sometimes called the World Serpent."

"Which world?" asked Omiko curiously.

Takashi took her hand and led her across to where a white stone unlike every other in the garden was surrounded by gold and blue flowers. "The only world that the ancient people of Terra knew: their own. But we know more worlds than they and the truth is, children, the World Serpent encircles all the worlds of mankind. Because what can we call such a creature but a dragon?"

Hohiro tilted his head, looking something like his father when Theodore was that age. "So they have their own dragon?"

"Their own understanding of the dragon," he corrected. "One they see a little differently from the way taught by our ancestors."

Omiko put her hands on her hips. "Who is right?"

"We are, of course," her brother told her patronisingly.

Takashi chopped the boy lightly on the top of his head with the edge of his hand. "We are both right," he told them. "There is Rasalhague blood in our veins, as well as that of New Samarkand. They see parts of the dragon that men like your Uncle Marcus would prefer to ignore, and for that reason he thinks they should be stamped out. And the people of Rasalhague miss a few things as well," he added.

Hohiro rubbed his head wordlessly.

His great-grandfather, Takashi's father, had tried to stamp out every language save Japanese within the borders of the Combine, believing it would also erase all the 'lesser' cultures. Theoretically, he was correct. Shape the words in men's head and you shape their thoughts and thus their actions. But in practise, it was foolish and the push created resistance and that resistance, under pressure, became inflamed.

"I am giving Marcus a chance to prove himself right," Takashi continued, looking at worlds that would soon be surrounded by fresh planting. "Just I gave your father the opportunity facing the Fox. One will succeed but the other is already failing."

"Father will not fail," Hohiro said with stubborn loyalty.

"Indeed," the Coordinator agreed and patted the boy's shoulder. "Your father does well." He looked along the border with the Suns. "He faces Davion and with just six regiments he has stalled the offensive." Marduk and Quentin contested, and rather than taking them completely, Theodore was keeping the fights going while small detachments from the Legions of Vega raided the worlds around them, turning them into running wounds that dragged forces, supplies and most of all attention away from further advances.

Omiko raised her arms. "Father is the best!"

Takashi almost expressed his own pride but restrained himself, instead looking back at Rasalhague. The world itself was lost and save for a few strongholds, the heart of the military district was in the hands of insurgents, rebellious militias and the advance of Tyr and their supporting mercenaries.

A part of him wished he hadn't closed the door on hiring mercenaries. He could have used more 'mechs... but could he have trusted them not to turn in his hand the way the Dragoons had done? Would the samurai of the Combine even be willing to fight alongside those who fought for money, not honor? He was unsure of that, while very sure that admitting error - it had been an error, he knew that - would certainly show weakness.

Let Theodore do it, he decided. When the boy returned. When the heir was ready to take over, then he could withdraw the order as part of the reforms he would inevitably call for on that day. And Takashi could take the blame without burdening his family.

"Grandfather?" Omiki tugged on the leg of Takashi's hakama.

"You shouldn't do that," Tomoe told the girl stepping close. "Call for your grandfather, but don't pull on his clothes."

The girl released her grip on Takashi's pleated trousers. "What are those purple flowers?"

The Coordinator turned and eyed the representation of the Free Worlds League. Perhaps some sanity would emerge there now that the AFFS and LCAF were focused on the Combine. He had sent word to Duncan Marik, the more warlike of the rivals contending for the throne Janos Marik still slumbered upon, pointing out that there would be no better opportunity to thin the forces along the border and deal with the ongoing Andurien problem.

With a little luck, that would at last break House Marik from their paralysis and let them at least pose a distraction to the triumvirate leading the Federated Commonwealth. Just a little luck... he was well past expecting any actual competence from that direction.

"The enemy of our enemies," he said slowly. "Not friends, not allies, but sometimes useful tools."

The girl pouted slightly. "What are they called, grandfather?"

"House Marik," her brother informed her. "The Free Worlds League."

"They're very small."

Takashi chuckled. The garden-map did not show the full Inner Sphere, just the edges of space that bordered the Combine. The only worlds of the Free Worlds League shown were those nearest Terra, and they had lost most of those to the Lyrans five years ago. "Yes, granddaughter. They are very, very small."

[drakensis]

Ridge Mountains, Quentin IV
Draconis March, Federated Suns
7 August 3034

"Fire!" Roberta Gathos ordered and her troops opened up.

Machine guns hammered into personnel carriers: not enough to punch through their armor, but enough to keep the infantry from dis-embarking. Turrets swivelled to engage the sources, but the tracked vehicles were just slow enough on the response for volleys of SRMs to cross from fire teams on the far side of the roadway and crash against the vehicles.

Unlike the machine guns, these had cracking power. Eleven of the twelve APCs erupted into bonfires as missiles found weak spots. A handful of infantry risked opening hatches to flee, but that took them directly into the hail of gunfire.

The last APC swerved off the road, pulling into a ditch that gave it some shelter. Not much but enough to let the infantry inside get out and add their rifles to the fire of its machine gun.

That didn't matter much, because the real threat were the gray 'mechs that the infantry were escorting.

There were four of them, but that lance alone had more firepower than an infantry regiment.

Roberta watched the four 'mechs twist and break into pairs to respond. This wasn't a colonel's job, but too many of her officers had tried pulling off operations like this. Sometimes it worked, sometimes it didn't and infantry fighting 'mechs were betting their lives. Defeat was death.

"Take cover," she ordered and headed for the dugout that had been prepared from the moment that the attack was planned. The 'mechs opened up, firepower that would have shredded tanks aimed at infantry only armored against small arms.

The Seventh Almach Footsoldiers was made up of veterans now. They knew life was a matter of speed and cover.

Autocannon roared with deafening fury. The four 'mechs were old SLDF designs that Roberta had never heard of before the attack arrived on Quentin. Champions and Sentinels, both with limited anti-infantry ability. That wouldn't matter once if heavy shells intended to rupture thick armor plating hit Roberta's soft flesh.

She finally reached the entrance, last one in. A salvo of SRMs hit the ground right as she dragged the door closed. Hot fire blazed around the edges. Inferno SRMs! Roberta thought and scrambled back, pushing her troops back with her body, as much to get herself away as them.

"Colonel!" Sergeant Jiang caught her by the collar and heaved her along. The outer layer of the tunnel wouldn't survive a 'mech's firepower long.

They were scrambling like rabbits as autocannon bit into the dirt and missiles blasted at the soil. The snap of lasers, the roar of explosions and soldiers' screams almost deafening Roberta.

The tunnel below them collapsed, the metal foot of one of the 'mechs driving deep into the ground. Roberta saw a trooper crushed by the tons of metal. The last one through, just ahead of the dead woman, slammed another door. This wasn't just a thin layer of flak and ablative material, essentially the same gear that her soldiers wore writ large. No, this was a thin plate of layered armor. 'Mech armor writ small.

It wasn't there to withstand 'mech weapons. The Sentinel's autocannon would chew through it in a second.

There was a massive crash as the Sentinel's foot went through the floor of the tunnel with the same ease it had penetrated the ceiling. The ground gave way, because what seemed solid was just a cover over a pit-trap deep enough to engulf a tank... or a battlemech.

As Roberta and her troops continued to flee through the tunnels they'd dug, the Sentinel fell. Limbs flailed at the soft earth and light materials that easily supported the infantry but could not remotely hold up forty tones of war machine.

They had needed industrial equipment to dig this pit-trap. Fortunately planets were large places, the DCMS hadn't been able to watch everywhere that the defenders made such preparations. And yet they could also be small: there were only so many routes that troops could march through the mountains.

"Sir!" Leftenant Wayne half-shouted as they reached the temporary command post. Radios and papers were already packed up and the command team snatched them up as they headed on for their escape routes. "There are more 'mechs coming."

"Dammit!" Roberta cursed, not even trying to remain calm. They'd prepared for four 'mechs and the infantry company. There weren't enough traps to handle another lance. And even if there were, there was no way to predict their routes... "How many?"

"Five."

Five? A lance was normally four, but combat could thin numbers. And these were Kuritans. They had a fascination with the number five.

What else could they do? "Continue to withdraw."

Her words were almost drowned out as the explosives around the pit did what they were designed to. Over a hundred shaped charges detonated at once, blasting armor and in places into the interior.

Was it enough to kill a 'mech? Hard to say! But it had a chance, and even if the 'mech survived the same might not be true of the mechwarrior inside.

That didn't matter now to Roberta. What mattered was getting her Footsoldiers out. The option of rallying what was left of the battalion carrying out the ambush to finish off the infantry and seize the battlemechs had always been a best-case outcome: if even one 'mech survived then it would have been a massacre. Five more arriving? No, that wasn't an option.

Between Wayne and Jiang, the colonel rushed down the narrow tunnel to where transports were waiting.

Civilian vehicles, not the APCs that the Footsoldiers still had. Civilian trucks and cars might fade into normal traffic - such as there was. Hit and run. Hit and hide. That was the only way that the soldiers from Almach survived.

Quentin III was better off, from what reports had reached her. The world wasn't as rich. Not as good a target. Only a fraction of the Seventeenth Avalon Hussars were stationed on the other world in the system, and they were hanging on boldly against the Second Genyosha.

But the main bulk of the counter-attack, the two Ryuken regiments and their support, had kept the Fifth Davion Guards and the balance of the Hussars on the backfoot for months. Two regimental combat teams were struggling to hold on as fighting forces, not even considering hanging onto the factories.

Roberta knew that the DCMS didn't have full access to what they'd captured. Her regiment and other secondary units had overseen evacuating the people, the data and what tooling they could. But she also knew that they hadn't got everything out. And that dropships had been ferrying something away.

It was shameful. It was defeat. It was -

"Colonel, those new 'mechs," Wayne exclaimed, one hand up and holding onto her headset. "They're headed this way!"

Roberta closed her eyes briefly. "Keep going. If they're after us, we need to draw them as far as we can from everyone else."

They reached the tunnel entrance, wide enough for a dozen vehicles. The first men there had already swung open the double doors onto the track outside.

"Mount up," Roberta called, turning and yelling at the two dozen survivors of what had one been a company of her regiment. Scatter as soon as you're out. We'll meet at the rendezvous and drinks are on me!"

The drinks would be whatever they could scrape up. And she might not make it to honor that promise.

Her people knew it, but they grinned anyway. Because whatever happened, they'd cost the vaunted Ryuken 'mechs. They'd bled the enemy.

"Colonel, you need to go," Jiang called, pulling Roberta towards one of the pick-ups, the second in line.

She let herself get pulled. He was right. She knew too much. But she also had a duty to those who followed her.

The engine roared to life and Roberta scrambled into the cab, Jiang following her in. The wheels spun and the farm truck got traction almost immediately, screaming out and into the light.

The light, and then into the shadow of a Warhammer that was scrambling down onto the track.

The driver yanked the wheel around and the truck swerved, almost missing one of the large feet, almost the size of the vehicle. Almost.

Not strapped in, Roberta was flung sideways, crashing against Jiang and pinning him against the passenger door. The driver slammed against the full extent of her safety belt just before she also crashed into the colonel.

The Warhammer tilted its torso forwards, the clusters of light weapons above the hips clearly visible. But they didn't fire. Instead:

"Hey," a woman's voice called. "Looking for some crazy Feddie colonel who's been hunting Ryuken in these mountains."

Roberta pulled herself off Jiang and rubbed her head. Then she scrambled over the driver and stuck her head out of the open window of the driver's door. "Who wants to know?" The forest light was dim and from a sun low in the sky, she couldn't see the colors of the Warhammer, it was just a silhouette.

The mechwarrior chuckled and then straightened her 'mech.

What did that mean? Roberta thought, pulling back so that the driver could unstrap and open the door. They 'mech had them dead to rights. All she could do was talk. If they were hostile, maybe she'd have attention while the other two companies escaped. Maybe what was left of those behind her could get back into the tunnels.

The hatch of the Warhammer cracked open and the mechwarrior inside stuck her head out. She heaved the heavy neurohelmet off, shaking out thick red hair.

"It can't be!" Leftenant Wayne exclaimed from the door back into the underground tunnels.

Roberta gave him a look. What was she doing? When she looked up again, the mechwarrior had removed her cooling vest as well. That was suicide if she was an enemy. Roberta could have pulled her sidearm and killed her right now with the full clip.

Then light caught the tight top and shorts that were what the mechwarrior wore. That wasn't unusual, mechwarriors had to strip down for heat in the cockpit. But the spider on the chest of the woman was distinctive...

"The Black Widow," Jiang whispered as Natasha Kerensky pulled a line out of her cockpit and then dashed down the side of the Warhammer, using the line to keep her from falling uncontrollably.

Roberta stared at the most infamous mechwarrior in the Inner Sphere. "What are you doing here?"

Kerensky smirked. "We're your relief, colonel." She looked at the Almach Footsoldiers edging their way out of the tunnels, guns ready. "The rest of my Black Widows are prying the Davion Guards out of the trouble they're in but when I heard someone was hunting Snakes up here I figured I'd come see for myself."

"One battalion, even Wolf Dragoons, aren't going to change the situation," she said flatly.

The mechwarrior shook her head. "Alpha's three battalions are here too. Oh, and Freddie Steiner sent the Second FedCom Armored Cavalry to Quentin III. We're doing this properly."

Roberta felt a wave of relief. She leant back against the pick-up, not sure her legs would hold up. "I hear... I hear you have history with the Ryuken," she said, choosing bravado over tears of relief. "I guess we can let you join our fight with them."

"Ha!" Kerensky threw her head back. "Are you near the end of your tour of duty? We could hire you! I'd recommend you to Jaime!"

The infantrywoman closed her eyes for a moment. "I'm good, thanks." She opened them and watched Natasha warily. She didn't want to get dragged into a humiliating embrace like that general on Marduk. Poor Delf had been in footage circulated across half the AFFS.

On * Our * Wedding * Day

First Circuit Complex, Hilton Head Island
North America, Terra
1 September 3034

If Myndo Waterly hadn't been forewarned of this, she might have screamed at the Pr... at Ulthan Everson when she saw Sharilar Mori standing in the circle of First Circuit Precentors.

"Myndo, welcome," the Primus greeted her. "I believe that you are familiar with Precentor Luthien."

She didn't smile, but nor did she snarl. Face like a mask, Waterly inclined her head slightly. "I have followed Sharilar's career for several years."

"With Dieron in the hands of the Federated Commonwealth," Everson continued, "It would be difficult for you to continue representing us to House Kurita when your HPG station does not lie within the Combine."

"The precedent of Sian is quite clear," she agreed with gritted teeth. There was no use looking too compliant, since no one could have expected her to be happy about that.

With Sian no longer the seat of a Great House, Vilnius Tejh was no longer ComStar's advocate to the Capellan Confederation. However, Everson had simply reassigned him to take over the vacant position of Precentor Tharkad - his own former post. No one was even suggesting that she relocate to Luthien.

"Dieron remains," Waterly continued, "One of the original twelve seats of the First Circuit, whose membership remains even if the others have broadly tended not to attend after the Precentor-Advocates were added in 2988." She gazed at Everson, wondering how he would deal with the challenge.

"Entirely correct," he said with a smile. "We may wish to encourage your peers to also resume attendance. While we may see a single Precentor advocating towards the Federated Commonwealth if they manage their union, I think it would be unreasonable to also expect them to administer HPGs across the full width of the Inner Sphere."

"I'm sure Sharilar will be glad to have the benefit of Myndo's experience," Huthrin Vandel observed with a noticeable smirk. The new Precentor-Advocate was the only member with less experience than Waterly's relatively few years.

"One hopes to contribute," she responded icily. "We may need to consider inviting Precentor Rasalhague in the future."

"A fair point," Everson agreed, taking his place at the Primus' podium. "However, we will have to come back to that since there is other business to decide."

"Events outside of the Combine's current problems have arisen?" enquired Tejh mildly. "Should I be relieved at the novelty or alarmed?"

Pedrigor Aziz sighed heavily. "Alarmed, Vilnius. Alarmed."

"You have the floor, Precentor Atreus," Everson said calmly. "You are the most informed right now."

The old man - Waterly wondered if there might be another seat vacant soon - leant forward slightly. "Some weeks ago, Duncan Marik decided that the Andurien situation wasn't going to be resolved through Parliament. It's possible that recent messages from Takashi Kurita spurred him."

Tejh grimaced. "What did he do?"

"On his own authority as General of the Marik Militia, he assembled a task force and sent them to strike at Andurien," Aziz told them. "It thinned the troops facing the Federated Commonwealth but it appears to be an acceptable risk."

"If the Federated Commonwealth could take advantage while also hammering the Combine the way they are, we might as well surrender now," Waterly said tartly. "Yes, he's right that it's a worthwhile risk."

"That far was," the old Precentor Atreus agreed. "Unfortunately, his other planning wasn't as sound."

"Would you get to the point?" demanded Vandel.

Aziz exhaled. "He routed the task force via Regulus and he doesn't appear to have secured their agreement."

Waterly frowned, recalling the complex internal politics of the Free Worlds League. "Aren't the Cameron-Jones making their own play to be Captain-General?"

"Exactly," Aziz confirmed. "The Princess of Regulus may have taken it as a move against her, because there was a confrontation. Shots were fired - we don't know yet who acted first."

"Blake's name," Tejh exclaimed. "How bad?"

"The task force had more 'mechs than Cameron-Jones can command," the oldest of the First Circuit reported. "But that hardly mattered at a jump point and she'd apparently been quietly amassing aerospace forces to enhance her security. The convoy was forced to surrender, but this won't end there."

"Are you sure of that?"

"The Regulus HPG has been sending priority messages every day since then, " Aziz said heavily. "I've had to allocate extra spare parts. Lynn Cameron-Jones is reaching out to potential allies. The Free States, Gibson... Andurien."

Everson inhaled deeply. Exhaled. He drew all their eyes like that. "In your opinion, Pedrigor, are we looking at another secession?"

"Nothing is set in stone, but the term Trinity Alliance has been used."

"Trinity means three," Tejh muttered. "Regulus, Andurien and... who? Canopus?"

"Possibly," the Primus confirmed. "We know Kyalla Centrella and Catherine Humphreys had plans to jointly invade the crippled Capellan Confederation, plans foiled once it became clear that would mean war with the Federated Commonwealth."

Waterly bit back bitterness. She had warned them all of the threat Hanse Davion posed, but no one had heeded her. "With shots fired, do you expect further battles?"

"Possibly," Aziz admitted. "House Marik's prestige has been hammered. Duggan Marik had close ties to Cameron-Jones but when she decided to make her own claims not back him, that bridge burned. Duke Halas could also act as a bridge, but without a clear Marik leader; to whom would the bridge be with?"

"Is there any possibility," Mori asked cautiously, "Of Janos Marik resuming active office?"

Aziz pursed his lips. "The Captain-General's medical condition is of immense political consequence. Unfortunately, that has made any information hard to come by. Those who know don''t dare let details drop. He's alive, and our experts say that after all this time, that is a good sign for his recovery. But it will be a slow recovery and leading a Successor State is a tremendous burden. He would need to show strength, which will take more than sending messages from a hospital bed."

"Even if he woke tomorrow and took back such control as he had before, would he be able to win?"

Waterly clasped her hands in front of her as she answered Vandel. "If it were just Regulus, Andurien and Canopus, then federal forces could defeat them. They have perhaps twenty battlemech regiments between them. But they would not be alone."

"No," Tejh agreed. "Davion is no fool. He will support the rebels, keeping the League divided as much as possible while he crushes the Combine."

"Or tears it into smaller fragments he can digest later," Everson observed tersely. "Either would be bad."

Bad? Their Primus had a talent for understatement, if nothing else. "If we do nothing, then Hanse Davion will have united the Inner Sphere under his control within another ten years!"

The Primus tapped the podium with his knuckles. "I might disagree on the date, but not about the direction, Myndo." His lips twisted. "It is not unheard of for us to agree. Until now, we have agreed that allowing Rasalhague's independence would weaken the Combine too much. But at this point, we may be forced to contain the damage rather than avoid it."

She felt anger rise. He thought he could manage her? But a tantrum now would cripple her: without the Advocate position she might find herself reassigned. "I'm listening," she told him sharply, allowing only grave concern to appear on her face.

"We cannot count on the Combine's situation turning around," Everson said coldly. "At a minimum, the Free Worlds League is even less of a threat than they were. Steiner and Davion can free up more forces. The only viable option is to accept an independent Rasalhague and cauterize the damage done. Without the cause of war, Steiner will pull Davion back."

"Katrina Steiner won't be alive forever," muttered Tejh. "Her cancer treatments on New Avalon may have bought her time but..."

"Buying time is our only option," the Primus told him. "Pedrigor, please do what can be done to stabilize the situation. I am aware of how little that is without showing our hand, but we can't pass up any possibility of keeping the League together now."

Waterly sighed. "Do you believe you can bring Takashi Kurita to the negotiating table?"

Mori cleared her throat. "Actually, that may be possible. There are signs that he is manipulating Marcus Kurita in ways that do not support the Warlord. I think there is a chance he sees the same signs we do."

She looked at her protege in surprise. How had she not known that? They would have to talk later. "We must look into our own security more seriously as well," Waterly proposed.

"What do you have in mind?"

"The ComGuards demonstrated on New Avalon that they can't compete on even terms with the soldiers of the Great Houses," she told the Primus. "Granted they lacked their usual advanced technology, but decades ago there were problems even when we lacked that. And if Hanse Davion does decide to take Terra, he can easily deploy overwhelming numbers."

Everson frowned but there was nothing to argue with. "Your solution?"

Waterly stepped forwards. "We need a military trump card in order to secure our hold on Terra if the worst comes to the worst. The only option we have left are warships."

"Are you insane?" demanded Vandel.

She sneered. "Davion could have fifty regiments on their way here by the end of the year, and little would stop him. Most likely he will not act so quickly, but he could. We need something, and I am open to alternatives."

"I think," Everson said slowly, "That you may be right."

"Primus!" protested Aziz.

"It will be tremendously expensive," the Primus noted. "But we have an obligation to hold Terra safe, and warships are, as Precentor Dieron correctly notes, an area where our advantage can be overwhelming: he has none and there are dozens of hulls in mothballs under our control. Nor would we require all of them."

"We already have three warships in active service," Vandel argued.

"Three means one in readiness," Waterly countered. "One in maintenance, one more working up their crew. Only one warship is not enough." She paused. "We don't need everything, of course, but we should consider a much larger force."

"The three warships recovered from the Buffalow Meadows system are being prepared for long-term storage," Mori observed. "We could start with them. Restoring them to operation status would be a start."

"Not enough, but a start," she agreed and eyed Everson. This was her price and she still had influence.

The Primus nodded slightly in acknowledgement. "A start. I call first for a vote on the Rasalhague matter, and then we will discuss what might be a sufficient security fleet for Terra." Fleet. Not squadron or flotilla. A fleet of warships.

The vote was lopsidedly in favour of negotiating Rasalhague's independence. It wasn't ideal, but there was no ideal outcome here. Just... buying time.

Just like Myndo Waterly's own situation. Buying time... and planning what to do with that time to recover her position and advance Blake's work.

[drakensis]

Nueva Santiago, Deneb Algedi
Federated Commonwealth Occupation Zone
18 September 3034

"Sir, you need to see this."

Frederick Steiner looked up from the map table that outlined the terrain of Al Na'ir. The planet was only sparsely settled, not really ideal for humans to begin with. Much of the population lived in orbital habitats among the asteroids including the immensely valuable Yorii Mechworks. Capturing that was going to be an interesting technical challenge, but securing the world that fed those industries both minerals and the food of their workers would also be key. "What?"

Hauptmann-General Hilda Delf straightened, glancing at the aide. She subtly rubbed her back, apparently feeling the strain of leaning over the planning table. Frederick tried not to notice the way it affected her uniform tunic. The general was an excellent officer, he didn't need that mixing up command arrangements.

Richard Regis was the nephew of General of Armies Edward Regis, which ill-informed gossip deemed the reason for his appointment as Frederick's aide. Those idiots didn't realise that Edward Regis didn't have any political connections: he'd risen on talent, recognised by both Alessandro and then Katrina. He was also dreadful at the sort of political networking that Lyrans were known for. Frederick had picked him for top performance as a lance commander and hadn't noticed the kinship until the younger Regis walked into his office.

"Intel section have picked up something on CNB," the Hauptmann reported.

ComStar News Bureau had an unfair advantage over their competitors when it came to finding out interstellar news. And while Frederick knew his niece didn't trust the HPG network's leadership further than she could have thrown one of those generators, they did generally at least report the facts honestly to maintain credibility even if their analysis was of political concern. He nodded. "Show us."

Colonel J. Elliot Jamison, representing the Wolf Dragoons' had his back to the headquarters building's main screen so he turned and leant against the table while Frederick and Hilda rounded it. The commander of the Third Federated Commonwealth RCT took the long way to flank the Marshall of Armies on the far side of the Wolf Dragoons. Given she'd won honors fighting alongside the Wolf Dragoons six years ago, Frederick suspected it was something Jamison had done, not distaste for the mercenaries.

The screen lit up and a talking head who Frederick couldn't have named for the life of him appeared next to the emblem of CNB. But the scrolling banner at the bottom of the display made the importance of the news evident.

'...ace a possibility, as Coordinator Takashi Kurita opens negotiations with the independent government of Rasalhague..."

Delf whistled. Jamison cursed.

"In breaking news from Luthien," the presenter informed them, "Representatives of the independent Rasalhague government were welcomed at the Imperial City by Constance Kurita earlier today." An image of two men bowing to an immaculately dressed middle-aged Kuritan noblewoman at the formal gates of the Kuritan court.

"Coordinator Takashi Kurita made the following statement," continued the ComStar shill.

The face and voice of the man himself replaced the presenter: "The union between the governments on Rasalhague and  New Samarkand that gave birth to my dynasty is long-standing but it was also voluntary. It is to my regret that distance has grown between us, both due to errors by members of House Kurita and the ambitions of outside powers. It does no service to the Dragon for me to ignore that distance. After deep consideration, my government has agreed that the Dragon of the West and the Dragon of the East must spread their wings separately for a time."

The shot went back to the presenter but Frederick didn't hear him say anything interesting. After a moment, he turned to Regis. "Do we have any analysis?"

"It's got to be a lie," accused Jamison. "Old Man Takashi couldn't allow a few regiments to leave, much less dozens of worlds."

Frederick raised his hand and looked to his aide.

"It's early," the hauptmann said without any note of apology. He wasn't a pushover, which was the real reason Frederick had selected him. "But what we do have is identification of one of the men seen with Constance Kurita."

"Who is she?" asked Delf quietly.

"Keeper of the House Honor," Frederick told her. "Head of the Order of Five Pillars. The one person allowed to criticise the Coordinator. Her signing off on this means there's political backing for this."

"What about Marcus Kurita?" Jamison challenged. "He can't be okay with that."

"Marcus is Constance's father. Kurita politics are complicated," he said, deciding not to think about Steiner family politics.

Regis opened a folder. "Haakon Magnusson is a Rasalhague native, part of the Scandinavian People Army. Not Tyr, but one of their affiliated groups. He's not one of General Mansdottir's leadership people but he's part of the wider leadership. Our last report had him operating behind enemy lines on Alshain."

"Alshain." Frederick grunted. He checked his map case and found the latest update on Rasalhague's own military operations. "Ja, that world still holds out by last report."

"Well, it doesn't affect us," Jamison declared turning around and gesturing to the map. "We're halfway across the Combine, so back to Al Na'ir."

"No."

"What?" the mercenary asked, looking back at Frederick.

He shook his head. "No, this changes everything."

"The Dragon's on their knees," Jamison pointed out. "Sure, they may be too big to devour right now but even with the forces drawn off by Teddy-boy's counter-attacks..."

Frederick took the map and pushed it towards Regis. "That's not our orders."

"Sir," Delf said cautiously. "There's no ceasefire, we might be able to take Al Na'ir on the run before anything gets formalized."

He considered that. "I think you're right. We could. But we won't."

"Well hell, why not?"

Frederick folded his arms. "Because our mission here is to draw off troops from Rasalhague. Taking worlds does that, but the Archon and the First Prince made it very clear: as soon as we get news from the Combine that they're  conceding Rasalhague's independence, we shift to consolidation. I'm not going to send my soldiers to die for a world that we'll just give back in negotiations."

"That's a whole 'mech factory you're giving him," accused Jamison.

"Believe me, I am aware." He had hoped to take the world before they reached this point. If Al Na'ir was in their hands, some of the Azami would have been under Suns rule and that could have pressured some of the Arkab Legions to reconsider their leadership. That and the factory, of course. Taking that would have hurt Takashi Kurita and the DCMS in ways he'd dreamed of. "Perhaps next time."

Delf snorted. "That's a truth. One thing about the Great Houses. There will be another war."

History suggested that she was right. "There are still Combine troops holding out behind us and raiding," Frederick told them. "We're going to pivot and make them regret that. By the time Takashi comes to terms with Magnusson... or more importantly, with Mansdottir, I don't want them to have any excuse to call the worlds contested."

"Not the sort of war my battalion is intended for," Jamison grumbled. "We're an assault force."

"I'm sure we can bait someone in," he told the mercenary drily. "I don't plan to make it easy for the Combine. Be creative."

Jamison looked around. "A perfectly good war. If Magnusson was here, I'd punch him." The big man headed for the exit. "I'll break the news to my troops."

Frederick watched the Dragoon officer leave and then looked back at Delf while Regis packed up the map. "I can't disagree with the sentiment."

"I have to wonder what the thinking is behind not pressing our advantage," she admitted. "Of course, this Magnusson character isn't entirely to blame. If we didn't have to divert reserves to Quentin we'd be on Al Na'ir right now."

"Probably," he agreed. "There are things I can't say and things I don't know, but counter-attacks weren't unexpected. But Quentin and Marduk were heavily garrisoned exactly to avoid them being threatened. Then Kurita turned up with half a dozen regiments of lostech..."

Delf sighed. "No argument."

Frederick yielded to temptation. "If I can ask a personal question?" he enquired, seeing that Regis had backed out of easy hearing. "What's the problem between you and Colonel Jamison?"

The hauptmann-general drew back slightly. "I have no problem working with the Colonel, sir."

"Fair enough, I won't ask again," he assured her, dropping the subject. If she didn't want to tell him, he didn't need to know.

"...wait," Delf said after looking at Regis. "It's a sore point. It's just something that doesn't affect us professionally."

"DId you fall out on Marduk?" Zeta Battalion had arrived in time for the end of the battle.

Delf's face went a little red. "I barely crossed paths with him there but he remembered me enough that when we met again here, he offered to... it never mind. He just reminded me of something I didn't want to think about"

"Is he harassing you?" Frederick asked suspiciously.

"It never happened again, I just didn't want the reminder," she said wearily. "I'm fairly sure you know what happened. Everyone does."

"..." What was she talking about? "Thank you for satisfying my curiosity," Frederick told her. "And you're right, i don't have any professional concerns or I would have raised this sooner."

Delf nodded. "Where do you want my troops?" she asked.

"I think right here," he decided. "Richard, I need the map of Deneb Algedi. My thinking is that we keep your RCT here as the obvious garrison and obfuscate where Jamison is deployed. That might let us lure a raiding force into Zeta's range. I doubt the DCMS is going to treat this as a ceasefire..."

On * Our * Wedding * Day

Honor of Skye, Skye
Federation of Skye, Lyran Commonwealth
29 September 3034

Hanse Davion sprawled wearily on the large bed, boots abandoned near the door of the chamber and his uniform tunic thrown casually across a chair. "This could have gone better," he concluded, looking at the screen that dominated the far wall.

Lying on her side looking at him, Melissa smiled quietly. "It could also have gone worse." She reached over and touched the third occupant of the bed.

Alexander Alistair Steiner-Davion drooled slightly. Their fourth son (Melissa made a mental note to discuss ensuring a daughter next time with NAIS) was only a few days old. She'd been carrying him when she arrived on Skye and by the time matters were settled, it had made more sense to stay here.

The proud father rolled over and they looked at each other, their son sheltered between their bodies from the harsh universe that they had brought him into. "We're both right," he said softly.

The screen was cycling between maps: the pre-war situation, the post-war situation and - because Hanse was stubborn - the map showing their war goals. There was no question that the Combine had lost, but compared to some of the hopes...

"I can't think of anyone except ComStar who could have given the Combine those battlemechs," Melissa told him. "But... back then, this isn't how it happened. They gave out down-teched models, stripping most of the lostech."

Hanse reached over and brushed Melissa's hair back from her face. "It's certainly less equipment too, at least compared to 3039. We've seen no evidence of more than six hundred Star League 'mechs, but the estimates we made after that war said that Kurita received over a thousand in exchange for Rasalhague."

"Things are off the rails."

"Mostly," he agreed. "I was hoping Edward Calderon wouldn't die this time around." The heir to the Taurian Concordat was much more reasonable than his father and they'd hoped to avoid the accident that killed him but direct intervention would have risked making it look as if they were setting him up for it and starting a war on that flank. "We'll have to work without most of that advantage now, not knowing if we've changed things or not."

The reborn Rasalhague Principality formed a rough triangle at the coreward edge of the Inner Sphere, from Csestreg on the Commonwealth border to Constance on the Combine border, then rimwards to Sheliak and Gunzburg. From fifteen worlds ceded by Melissa's mother, they had acquired another forty-one systems through uprisings, strategic invasions and negotiations by their newly confirmed Minister for Foreign Affairs: Haakon Magnusson.

"If the Silver Fox had kept his hand out of it..." Hanse observed, but then visibly forced himself to be more positive. "Still, there's less left for Takashi to form an Alshain District out of."

Melissa nodded, pulling out a handkerchief to gently wipe the baby's chin. She remembered Alshain as a slender line of worlds retained from the old Rasalhague Military District until the Clans over-ran most of it. Takashi Kurita had conceded worlds that cut the replacement district in half, and the LCAF had chopped off a few key worlds to add to those retained by virtue of better management and therefore not ceded to Rasalhague. Rimwards of Gunzburg the Combine-Commonwealth border was almost entirely straight for over a hundred light years and the tangle of salients left from the Fourth Succession War had been smoothed out. Even further away, the border was solid and defensible, often marked by strategic acquisitions like the prefectural capital of Buckminster. And the Terran Corridor looked better than it ever had in their own history.

"Frederick did well," she said in quiet triumph.

Her husband drew his hand back, apparently satisfied with his hairdressing efforts. "You were right. Reaching out paid off."

They both exchanged smirks at the humiliation of Free Skye. Trustworthy news sources were eagerly making it clear that if forces had been diverted to the offensive rather than to satisfy the protestors, gains could have been much larger.

But they had been large enough. Frederick Steiner's AFFC had only taken six worlds, but they were those linking the Combine to Terra. Altair, Dieron, four more worlds... half claimed by the Commonwealth and half to the Suns.

"Do you expect backlash about Elidere IV?" Melissa asked, not truly concerned but aware that he was worrying about the future.

That was the one world that had fallen to counter-attack, not even one of Theodore's as far as they knew. His task force had hit Quentin and Marduk, then raided neighbouring worlds. Elidere had been the work of the Amphigean Light Assault Group and the two regiments had achieved it through a lightning assault that struck right as confusion caused by the other attacks drew reserves away.

Overall, Hanse's forces had reclaimed eleven worlds from the Combine. Good progress by the standards of previous wars, but short of satisfying Aaron Sandoval's desire (echoed by his Prince) to regain every world ever held by House Davion along their Combine border. Still, the mighty AFFS was technically two worlds short of the performance of the LCAF.

Hanse shook his head. "Not significantly. Aaron knows that by any sane measure we've been very successful and that this could be the basis for further advance. More importantly, Theodore Kurita's technological advantage has sold him on the need to get our own upgrades rolled out before we go again."

"I don't think the Kurita's have much more than they showed us operationally," she said thoughtfully. "But they'd be insane not to have set some aside for study."

Her husband smiled tiredly. "Sanity is subjective at times, dear. But it would be stupid and neither the Coordinator nor his son are that. No, they're working on it. The question is: how much progress have they made?"

Melissa stroked Alexander's head, feeling the sleeping baby shift. Was he dreaming? She hoped he had sweet dreams. "And another question is our own progress."

"Jaime Wolf tells me that he'll be standing Gamma Regiment up next year. That'll mean Alpha, Beta and Natasha's Black Widows will all be available for training duty," Hanse told her. "Eight pseudo-clusters to train against and it's time to let them take the brakes off. We can easily justify them demonstrating to the AFFC what it's like to fight against a technological advantage."

"Give the LCAF and AFFS a shot too," she suggested. "Natasha will get bored without fresh opponents, send her on a tour of LCAF commands. Aaron can cycle RCTs from the Draconis March over to get a try as well."

The Wolf Dragoon's regiments were more like Clan Galaxies, each battalion reinforced with a fifth 'mech in each lance, bringing companies up to fifteen 'mechs and the full force including command lances to 155 'mechs and supporting infantry. Transitioning the latter to battle armor depended on the Landsknecht program.

Her husband nodded slowly. "Yes, that could work. As for technology, a lot of it has to be built in, but we can look at standardised refit packages."

"The AFFC needs the bulk of them, particularly with the Avalon Hussars and Arcturan Guards joining," Melissa concluded. "New equipment will be an inducement."

Hanse rested one hand on her hip. "They're getting the new production, love. I'm talking about pulling older 'mechs and doing basic replacements: CASE, ferrofibrous armour and those new pulse lasers in place of machineguns. It won't bring them up to the standards of new construction but it'll make them more survivable."

Melissa nodded, thinking of heatsinks. Refitting 'mechs for those was much harder, it would strain the ability of most regiments' technical support given how entangled the cooling systems were with the fusion reactors. "We have a reserve of replacement 'mechs and fighters," she said slowly, "Because we thought we'd be fighting more than six months."

"What are you thinking?" he asked her.

"You know how many family 'mechs are tied together with spit and baling wire," she pointed out. "What if we made an offer to get some of those wrecks out of service? Offer them a straight swap - new 'mechs for old, and then we can strip the worst for parts to get the rest rebuilt with newer heatsinks and weapons. It might only get us a couple of regiments worth of advanced 'mechs..."

"Brilliant!" Hanse agreed. "And we can pacify those complaining about Frederick getting all the new toys by allocating the rebuilds to your mother's Royal Guards and the best Davion Guards RCTs." He considered. "And we can look at pushing for more reactor construction. We still have budgets calculated on at least a year of fighting, I think we can invest that into preparations."

Melissa leant over, kissed him, and then moved his hand firmly from her hip to the sleeping Alexander. "If the Clans come when they did last time, our children will have to fight them, Hanse," she said quietly. "And we both know we can't keep our hellions from doing so."

"We'll give them the best chance possible," Hanse agreed and rested his brow against her. "And the best childhoods. Because even if the Clans don't come..."

A buzzer interrupted them and Melissa closed her eyes for a moment. "We've had our respite, love."

Hanse grunted. "Yes, time to rescue Morgan." He left the bed and padded over to the door in socking feet.

A wall of noise hit Melissa as the sound-proofed door opened, Alexander blearily opening his eyes and adding his wail to the noise made by the other children.

"Hanse, thank god," Morgan Hasek-Davion exclaimed, holding his namesake Morgan Steiner-Davion on one shoulder and his younger son Cyrus opposite, both boys burying their hands in the Duke's long red hair. Around him, Patrick was running in circles, waving a toy aerospace fighter, as Cyrus' siblings George and Angela chased him.

Through the doorway, Melissa saw Andrew apparently give up the chase, only to rush the other way and tackle his older brother from the front. "Gotcha!"

"Oh no! Eject!" Patrick yelped as he staggered.

She heard Hanse laugh and scoop their older boy up, the (thankfully stuffed) aerospace fighter bouncing away to be caught by George. "Whoosh!" Hanse declared and hoisted the giggling Patrick over his head. "Parachute!"

Melissa sat up and lifted Alexander up, rocking him. Definitely hungry, she thought with experience. "That's your family," she told the baby, whose cries tapered off at the motion. "We're all mad here, you'll fit right in."

[Daryk]

Woo!  Where to begin?

Quentin and Marduk are in it deep... plenty of tension there despite Melissa and Hanse knowing better.  Glad to see Damu, Gathos and Delf in the fight!  Frederick Steiner with actual restraint is SO dangerous!

Perfect humbling of Ryan Steiner!

Comstar is as underhanded as ever... even without Myndo in charge.

[drakensis]

Fort Reynard, Almach
Capellan March, Federated Suns
22 January 3035

Route marches were a key capability for infantry, even if they could most often rely upon motorized transport. She wasn't sure what this counted for.

The Landsknecht armor didn't entirely mitigate the fatigue of marching twenty kilometers, because they had to take just as many steps, but they did make the burden of kit far easier. Normally, even as a senior officer, Roberta Gathos would be carrying all the weight of her armor, weapons, comms gear and other supplies. Now, the myomer muscles wrapped around her limbs did the heavy lifting.

Barriers like the artificial river crossing the far end of the route were also easier. Normally the troops would have diverted to a bridge or improvise a bridge. Or, Roberta thought, recalling certain sadistic instructors, swim in field gear.

Now, as she reached the riverbank, she instead checked that no one was right behind her and then triggered the jumpjets built into the back of her armor to hurl her up and over the river.

The sensation made her stomach churn. Roberta had led the survivors of the Seventh Almach Footsoldiers through jumppack training to prepare them for this, but the jumpjets didn't feel the same in her opinion. She'd got a half-drafted recommendation back in her office not to bother with that training and to instead focus on training to use the Landsknecht's own jets.

Landing on the far side of the river felt horrible, and for a moment the colonel feared she'd fall over in front of the entire regiment, but she managed to keep her balance. Even so, Sergeant Jiang stepped close enough to take the elbow of her armor. "Holding up, Colonel?"

"Well enough," she replied, checking the HUD to see that the rest of the regiment made the jump.

Over a thousand infantry would have made for quite a crowd so she had to keep advancing to make room for those behind her. Most made the jump easily but there were some exceptions  and Roberta winced as she saw three Landsknecht land in the mud and bury themselves up past their knees.

The routine was well understood now, and she was pleased to see the squads of the unfortunates (who would be soundly mocked tonight, she was sure) calling for lines. In theory the suits could simply jump again, but there was a real risk that the jumpjets might cause damage wrenching them free, so older methods were safer. Heavy metal cabling was included in the kit of every engineering squad for these and other contingencies.

"No drop-outs reported?" the unarmored colonel waiting for them asked, holding onto a noteputer.

Roberta saluted. They might in theory be equal in rank, and him a mercenary, but firstly Dr Banzai was a mechwarrior and secondly he was actually a good man who cared about both his work and the wellbeing of her troopers. Also he'd thrown together an impromptu band who were playing the enlisted bar every night, and a wise officer stayed on good terms with the troopers' entertainment.

"No, we all made it," she confirmed. "The suits are holding up and so are my people." Looking back, she saw the three stragglers being dragged out of the muck. "A few minor incidents, but nothing we couldn't cope with."

"I'm glad to hear that," Banzai said sincerely. Then he shrugged. "Unfortunately, that means we kick up the endurance trials."

Roberta cursed inwardly. "Walking back to base?"

"Rotating the packs and then, yes," he said apologetically. "It needs to be done."

Banzai wasn't wrong, but it was still not going to be fun. "How do you want to do this?"

The mercenary mechwarrior-scientist smiled. "Rotate all the gear by battalion, please. First to second, second to third, and so forth."

The default infantry organisation was three platoons to a company, three battalions to a regiment, but that was for line functions and, in practice, there was always a fourth battalion made up of command and support elements. That was what Roberta was used to but along with transferring her rebuilding regiment from the AFFS to the new AFFC, she'd had to reorganise around the new expectations and the smaller squads of just four that were forced by the limits of infantry transportation, which left the Footsoliders with four line battalions, each with three line companies and one support company that included the engineers and other specialists.

"Left... Leutnant Wayne," she called, still getting used to the new ranks. "Put me on regimental push."

"Yes, ma'am." Her aide came trotting up and a moment later the update pinged on her helmet.

"Alright boys and girls," Roberta declared. "You've done a good job and you all know what that means: more work." She was fairly sure she could hear their familiar moaning through the helmets of the bulky suits. "Not only do we get to march all the way back to base, but before we do that, we are rotating weapon packs! Doesn't that sound like fun?"

It didn't.

"Form battalion ranks," she ordered. "First battalion gives their packs to second, then second to third and third to fourth. And first battalion are then to go to the back so fourth battalion can give us their weapon packs."

With no more that the usual complaining, the troops bunched up and then, under the direction of sergeants and corporals they formed four rough ranks and then each squad of four began working to dismount the heavy packs mounted above their shoulders.

"You first, colonel," Jiang didn't quite order - because sergeants didn't give colonels orders, except when they did.

Roberta didn't argue, instead dropping to her knees so that the pack was available. The Landsknecht didn't have the same domed head and shoulder section as the prototype design she'd seen, appropriately nicknamed 'toad' but the weapon system made up a full fifth of the suit's mass.

Wayne and Jiang caught hold of the grips designed to fit with the clawed fingers of their Landsknechts and once Roberta unlocked the pack they lifted the recoilless rifle and its ammunition bin off, placing it behind them so that the command squad of second battalion could pick it up once they were ready.

By the time the infantrywoman was standing again, the pair had also removed the missile pack from Corporal Hughes. Roberta joined the colonel on removing Wayne's own missile pack. Since the command squad was hopefully not going to be part of a close-up brawl, both Wayne and Hughes used the slightly lighter LRM packs which made it easier.

Finally, Jiang knelt and the three women lifted off the magshot cannon he was carrying. It felt slightly ridiculous to Roberta that they were holding up a weapon system that weighed more than the three of them combined.

With that done, they joined the column of armoured infantry filing through the ranks of the formation to get to the back. Roberta collided with one of the troopers who was moving around and carrying a weapon pack. She stopped and steadied the man until they were all sure that the pack wasn't going to fall.

"Sorry, private," she apologised.

"We've all done it, colonel," he said graciously as she helped him move the pack over to where the four engineer packs were being laid for their counterparts. The engineer packs were distinctive because the LMG was smaller and lighter than even the LRM packs. Which the designers had graciously done because this freed up room for a storage module for cable, demo packs and the hundred and one other items that might be needed in the field. They were the most common pack because not only did engineers use them, heavy weapon squads used them to carry the brokendown mortars and support PPCs that added heavily to the firepower of the regiment.

Finally, Roberta reached the back and moved around to stand behind Major... behind Leutnant-Colonel Hisa Stavros' squad. The Lyran officer (who probably had no problem remembering the AFFC ranks, given how closely they meshed with LCAF ranks) was already getting an LRM pack lifted up onto her shoulders.

Leading the way, the colonel took hold of the first of weapon packs already set aside by Stavros' squad and worked with Hughes to lift it up.

Sergeant Jiang knelt. "Knight me," he joked.

The two women hoisted the weapon pack while Wayne caught up. "I dub you an SRM knight," Roberta told the sergeant, checking the type of pack they were loading.

"Thank you, colonel," he said politely, before standing.

Since they were on a roll, Roberta and Corporal Hughes lifted the second pack onto Leutnant Wayne's shoulders. It seemed that Stavros liked the SRM packs since this was one too and Jiang found a third, hoisting it halfway up before Roberta picked up the other end. They slotted it into place on the shoulders of the leutnant.

That left the last for the colonel and she realized it was one of the relatively rare magshot packs. The weapons were apparently cutting edge, expensive and worst of all finicky. This was proven again once her squad hoisted up onto her shoulders and Roberta activated the locking mechanism. "Amber flag," she reported seeing the system faults appearing on the edge of her HUD.

"How bad?" asked Hughes.

"Targeting isn't connecting," she informed him. "I could probably fire it, but I'd be eyeballing it."

"Let's not do that with supersonic projectiles," the corporal suggested.

Roberta chuckled. "Good thinking." She activated her comms. "Hisa, my suit's on amber flag," she informed her new second-in-command. "How are you?"

She saw the Lyran shrug, or the closest thing possible in a Landsknecht. "All green, colonel," she said in her soft Skye accent. "I will be leading the march then?"

"Got it in one," she confirmed and manually triggered the regimental channel manually. "Alright, troops. You know the deal. If you have amber flags, sit down until the techs can check them. If you have red flags, stand still until we can get you out of the suits. Green flags, form up on the road. Leutnant-Colonel Stavros will be leading you back to base."

The rest of her command squad followed the bulk of the regiment towards the roadway - there hadn't been one here once, but then a thousand men and women in battle armor had marched along this route three times every week for a couple of months. Roberta sat down, following her own directions, and looked around. To her relief, no one was standing up to indicate that their Landsknechts were malfunctioning to the point they'd need to have it removed for safety before heading back to base.

"We're doing better," Doctor Banzai said, walking over to where Roberta sat. "What's the problem, colonel?"

"Targeting system isn't connecting," she explained.

"Huh," the scientist said, making a note. "That would be a bit of a problem in a combat situation."

Roberta grunted. "I think it could be fired, but without targeting I'm not taking it off safe."

"Probably wise," he confirmed. "Alright. We'll try removing it and putting it back on." Banzai glanced around at the three dozen troopers sitting in their armor as techs swarmed over them. "You may need to wait a while."

So much for getting back to base in a reasonable time, Roberta thought. "Alright, Doctor. I know the drill." With a bit of luck she'd be able to catch a ride once the techs were through with her suit.

On * Our * Wedding * Day

Castle Davion, New Avalon
Crucis March, Federated Suns
12 March 3035

Hanse leant back in his office chair and rubbed the bridge of his nose.

"Problem?" Melissa asked from the sofa where she was lying, physically exhausted after playing with the boys that afternoon.

He lowered his hand. "Trying to think of a way to convince your mother to adopt the March system for the Lyran Commonwealth. Last time we did it, you were the Archon and..."

His wife sat up. "And it was a mistake."

The First Prince frowned at her certainty. "Love... What am I missing?"

Melissa pulled herself up and leant against the arm of the couch to look at him. "You do have a tendency to assume that Suns practises are better than Lyran methods," she warned him. "Mostly you keep it under control, to be fair."

"Sometimes I'm right about that," Hanse pointed out. He pushed his weight forward, getting his feet under him and left the chair. "But go ahead. Convince me I'm wrong here. The March system provides a coherent and structured control over the borders in a way that the Commonwealth lacks."

"Remind me," she challenged. "How did that work against the Clans? All those attacks came inside the Tamar March..."

Hanse shook his head as he rounded the desk to join Melisssa. "I don't think you can argue that the system of theaters would have been better?"

"Militarily, we'll never know," his wife admitted. "But politically, those changes caught blame. And Tamar at least had a coherent identity. The Periphery March I agreed to was never seen as having any legitimacy. Honestly, if Victor had taken the throne I'd have recommended that he disband it for the political capital."

He frowned, sitting down at the far end of the couch - lifting her feet so he could sit with them in his lap. "That's a better argument, but what do you suggest?"

Mellissa rubbed her eyes. "I do agree that your polymorphous defense zones are a better idea than the Lyran theaters. But we should integrate them with the existing political boundaries not try to impose marches."

"That divides the Free Worlds League border into four or five separate command zones," Hanse warned. "Depending on whether you count Alarion."

She smiled at him, the way she did once he'd fallen for a trap. "We also have four zones facing the Draconis Combine," she pointed out. "The Draconis March is divided into two Operational Areas, it's just too large for a single command centre to administer."

"So you want to keep the Protectorate of Donegal a single march equivalent?" he asked her. "Dividing it into four operational areas perhaps?"

"Something like that," she agreed. "And honestly, you might want to do the same in the Suns."

Hanse stroked her calves with one hand. "What's sauce for the goose is sauce for the gander?"

Melissa drew her legs back defensively. "Let me make a hypothetical proposal."

"Go right ahead," he invited, turning around to face her as directly as he could.

"The Capellan March doesn't actually face the Capellan Confederation," she pointed out. "For obvious reasons."

"True," Hanse said with a grin.

"Behave," his wife warned. "It doesn't need the military authority and influence your ancestor granted to House Hasek. What are they supposed to do with it, fight the Taurians?"

He chuckled at the idea. "Oh, please no. Not the Taurians!" There wasn't anything in the Taurian Concordat worth the many costs involved in poking that nest of honey-badgers.

Melissa smiled as well. "I agree. No fighting the Taurians. So.. let's roll the Capellan March into the Crucis March."

"Ouch, Morgan might go for that, but he's not the only Hasek out there."

"Let me finish, dear. And while we're offending major houses, let's peel off a few PDZs from the outer edge of the Draconis March," she continued. "Let the Sandovals focus on the Combine without bearing the burden of preparing for the no doubt imminent threat of House Avellar assaulting the Commonwealth."

Hanse's chuckling turned into a deep, cheerful laugh. The sort of thing he wasn't sure he'd done in the decade or so between Dana's death and Ardan dragging him out of that dungeon on Argyle. "I know I live in dread that some day the Outworlds Alliance will attack us," he agreed. House Avellar's Outworlds Alliance hadn't attacked anyone in over five centuries, unless you counted SLDF garrisons. And even there it had arguably been rebels against the pacifist head of the Alliance at the time, so it hardly counted.

"With that done," his wife continued without a beat, "Divide it into four provinces, each serving as its own military operational area within the March. One centred upon New Avalon and including... I'd say the current operational area plus adjacent areas of the Capellan March."

"Kathil?" he asked.

"Kathil," she confirmed. "It's too strategic. Morgan can be trusted, but let's think a generation or so down the road. That would put all three of our major shipyards under the New Avalon province and the Duke of Avalon..."

"And House Hasek retains the rest of the old Capellan March?" he asked. "Trading being March Lords for Province lords? It feels like they are being punished."

Melissa nodded. "Agreed. But it gives them focus, on addressing the economic issues and more limited security concerns. The Capellan outback might be the smaller of the three current marches, but it's still there."

"A point," Hanse agreed. He thought. "And two more provinces, the rest of the Crucis March and parts of the Draconis are split up with centres on... Filtvelt and Kilbourne?"

"Good choices," she agreed.

The First Prince scratched his chin. "It's a good job this is a hypothetical idea we're discussing in private," he muttered. "Morgan's cousins would riot."

"Probably," she agreed. "Losing the independent Ministry of the Capellan March might be the only way we can rip out what's left of Michael Hasek-Davion's old network though."

He rolled his eyes. His treacherous brother-in-law had been discredited after Hanse decided against trying to cover for the man's visit to Sian as a 'misguided attempt at diplomacy' the way he had before. But Michael had been a powerful man on New Avalon for a decade before returning home to succeed his father on New Syrtis for another fifteen years. Killing the idea of an independent Capellan March was harder than stamping out Free Skye.

"Morgan would go for it, we could even ask him to suggest the idea to the High Council," she added. "But I admit it's asking a lot."

"It would allow more focus on the Outback worlds if there's a stronger regional government out there," Hanse allowed cautiously. "The Ministry of the Crucis March would need to establish provincial sections..."

Melissa nodded. "Yes, and to be honest, we could do with some more devolution when it comes to the provinces back home. The workload you and mother carry is immense and we're going to be laying both on Patrick. Delegating more of that is going to be vital."

Neither said anything right away, Hanse's eyes narrowed and Melissa's distant. "Aaron might go for it," the First Prince concluded eventually. "Less territory to defend would appeal to him, and I could sweeten the pot. Our next round of new regiments can include bolstering the Robinson Rangers."

"We will need someone to cover that border when the Clans come," she agreed. "The Combine did better than we expected, but there are a lot of variables... And if he has five Robinson Ranger regiments it puts him on par with the St Ives Lancers."

"The problem would be the Capellans... the Capellan March," Hanse corrected himself.

Melissa giggled at him. "Having a Capellan March does make it seem as if the Capellans of the Andurien March and Tikonov Republic are still enemies," she pointed out.

He nodded. "A case for renaming the region could be made. I'm not sure about removing Kathil and the worlds around it. Valexa PDZ maybe, to link the New Avalon province to the Tikonov Republic, but Kathil would be too significant a cut against the Hasek's current domain."

"Does that," she asked directly, "Explain how jarring the Periphery March was?"

Hanse tapped his chest. "Touche," he acknowledged. "And you have a point about disconnecting military and political structures like that. On which topic...?"

"What?" she asked.

"Has Duke Kelswa bent yet on a Tamar Pact Militia?"

His wife solemnly pulled a cushion from beneath her and covered her face before screaming into it, not quite loud enough to have security bursting in. (That had been embarrassing, the one time it happened).

"Ah."

"I swear, Cousin Ryan must be contagious," Melissa grumbled once she'd tucked the cushion away. "Selwin seems be buying entirely into the idea that stronger planetary militias are a better idea. Which is demonstrably false, but how dare we bring up mere facts?"

Hanse cupped his chin. "He didn't react this badly to losing worlds to Rasalhague last time and we lost more worlds then."

"We didn't rub it in his face as obviously that it was his fault," she pointed out sourly. "We may have outsmarted ourselves."

The two exchanged sober looks. The Tamar Pact had been eviscerated by Clan Jade Falcon last time, with Clan Wolf taking Tamar itself and the Steel Vipers snagging their own share later in the invasion.

"I don't want to count on it, but there's a chance we'll pin something on Ryan," Hanse said, in the tone of a man grasping for straws. LIC and MIIO investigating a royal duke would have been risky, but police investigators were digging quietly. "And assuming Selwin doesn't double-down on defending his son-in-law then he may see reason. If not, maybe we should just focus on forces we can commit strategically."

"I'd settle for something I can control." Melissa stretched herself out, putting her feet back on his lap. "If we give into his suggestions of providing more 'mechs and other heavy equipment to the planetary militias, half of them will be looking to raid into Rasalhague."

"Let 'em," he said absently, caressing her calves again. This time she didn't pull them back. "It'll encourage Mansdottir to fortify more."

His wife ran her fingers through her hair, freeing it from the clasp holding it back. "Can't do that," she replied. "Got to maintain our diplomatic integrity... And can't take their 'mechs away while there's pirates who'd take that as an invitation."

"All these problematic dukes," Hanse said, hand roaming higher up his wife. "Too bad we can't just promote them..."

Their eyes met.

"Baubles," she said as he said: "Archdukes."

"Details," Melissa said firmly. "We can talk about distracting our irritants with shinies after you finish presenting your proposal to me."

Hanse grinned like a fox in a henhouse.

[drakensis]

The Triad, Tharkad
Protectorate of Donegal, Lyran Commonwealth
4 May 3035

Hanse looked up from the documents in front of him when a snowball splattered across the window. Snow at this time of year... Ugh.

Well, the boys appreciated it. Patrick was five now, and had made friends almost immediately with Phelan Kell. Andrew was a little more reticent but also only a couple of months younger than Morgan Kell's son. Hanse smiled briefly, remembering how he and Melissa had used the Kell boy's name to figure out that they had both been sent back in time.

Another snowball landed, lower and Hanse glanced out, trying to decipher the alliances among the children playing outside. No, he'd have better luck figuring out ComStar's internal politics. One moment Patrick and Andrew were back to back against all comers, then the next time he looked up the younger boys were chasing his laughing oldest through the snow.

The First Prince tried to turn his attention back to reports from another chaotic mess. Eight hundred years ago, Catherine Humphreys' ancestor George Humphreys had negotiated the alliance of the Marik, Allison and Selaj families and their domains to create the Free Worlds League. Now the man's descendant had brought Lynn Cameron-Jones and Kyalla Centrella to meet on Kanata, a world that lay between their territories and was trying to emulate the original achievements.

Personally, Hanse thought that the old duchess was trying too hard to mirror what had been done in the twenty-third century. The Trinity Alliance, as it was called, was very much modelled on the earlier form of the Free Worlds League with a parliament representing not only the three of them but other worlds that found themselves caught between them. Regulus and Andurien both had spheres of influence in the League, worlds that had once been under their rule but broken away under the Camlann decision. Many of them were now signing on with the new realm, drastically bolstering the resources of the breakaway provinces.

He shook his head as he saw that House Humphreys would have first refusal on the role of Minister of Foreign Relations, while Cameron-Jones and Centrella would have similar claims on Defense and Trade respectively. The allocation made sense in theory, since without a Captain-General the first was as close as Cameron-Jones could get to the Marik's office. How it worked in practise... Well, they'd have to find out.

Picking up a pen, the First Prince made a note to open contact with Catherine Humphreys. Making an open alliance with the Trinity would be problematic, but selling them war material to keep them in play sounded like a good idea. If nothing else, they'd happily pay for 'mechs like the Hermes II that were only built in the Free Worlds League and that were hard for the Federated Commonwealth to maintain.

"Poor Janos," he said out loud. The oldest Successor Lord was apparently awake from his long coma but learning of Thomas' death had hit him hard and he was recovering only slowly. By this point, he would have been back in charge for two months but this time he was struggling. Hanse did feel sorry for him, however hypocritical it was after he'd ordered the death of the man's seventh son.

Would Duncan Marik try a bomb to clear his way to the throne? Hanse wasn't sure, but even if he did, the suspicion of his guilt would be so easy to inflame to the point the general would have no credibility. Duggan was in a slightly better position when it came to his reputation... but losing Regulan support had humiliated him. Neither would be a strong Captain-General.

Hanse reached for the papers but his hand went to his comm without conscious intention and he checked his messages.

Nothing from the StarCorps meeting. Dammit.

He tossed the device back on the table in annoyance. StarCorps had factories in both halves of the Federated Commonwealth and their military manufacturing divisions were strategically important. Melissa had helped him draft a proposal to expand and rebuild their facilities, but even with the Steiner and Davion voting blocs among their shareholders, it seemed that the corporation's general shareholder meeting was deadlocked on the issue. They'd been discussing it for days, and it was growing frustrating.

The comm bleeped and Hanse snatched it up.

It wasn't StarCorps, but a request for a meeting from someone he hadn't thought about in years. Hanse's brow furrowed and he responded that he was free to talk. Then he shuffled the papers about the Trinity Alliance away into the document case they'd been brought in.

His secretary knocked and Hanse offered him the case, before turning to the new arrival. "Tormano, it's been years!" he said warmly. "How are the family?"

The youngest child of Maximilian Liao bowed politely. "My wife and son are well, your highness. Treyhang is in school now."

The First Prince ushered the younger man to sit facing him. "Is he looking at an academy?"

"I am hoping that he will be placed for Tikonov Martial Academy," Tormano told him. "A sign of reconciliation between houses, but he is rebellious of course."

"Boys that age, eh?"

"You have -" The Liao broke off as snow smacked the window again. "Ah. Is that the weather or children playing?"

"Younger boys," Hanse told him. "Mine and a few others."

"Ah. With four sons, I imagine you've cemented your dynasty."

"Melissa wants a daughter." Hanse shrugged. "I'm not opposed but right now she's a little too busy, so it may be a couple more years."

Tormano sat back and spread his hands. "Your time is limited, Prince Davion. Should I get to the point?"

"It's one of those days where it feels hard to get traction," he confided, trying not to look at his comm for updates on the StarCorps situation. "Make your point as you wish."

Candace Liao's brother nodded slowly. "I am here to help you."

Hanse nodded, meeting his eyes and showing interest.

"StarCorps," Tormano said and suddenly Hanse's interest was genuine. The Liao could tell the difference and Hanse saw his eyes shift triumphantly. "You have a proposal in front of their meeting they're having here on Tharkad right now."

"I do." That wasn't precisely a secret.

A nod. "The problem presented is that your requirements for security effectively cut their Free Worlds League branch off."

"It's rather required," he pointed out. "The deal involves them getting access to some of NAIS' newest technology."

"And technology is key," Tormano agreed. "Theodore Kurita's... I cannot call them victories, but his successes have pushed you to make use of advances that might otherwise have been worked on for longer."

Hanse tilted his hand back and forth. "A little." With the Clans out there, there was a timer. There was a wonderful justification.

"I am hardly an advocate for House Marik receiving access to military secrets." The other man leant forwards. "I have been keeping watch on the debate and I believe it is a difficult decision. Many see the benefits you are offering, but their Emris IV factory is very close to the new border with Regulus. If they are seen as taking sides then it may leave the FWLM less committed to its protection."

"That would be short-sighted and petty of Janos Marik."

"So in character?"

Hanse chuckled. "True. Though his illness may moderate his venom. So you believe that the decision is going to be a very close vote?"

"My read is that both sides have over forty percent of the shareholding votes," Tormano told him, which agreed with the First Prince's information. "And the remaining voters are those who are, by nature, less open to your efforts. If you could have pinned them down, you would have done so already."

"You sound like a man who has a solution," the older man noted.

"Since we are on Tharkad, let's put it in Lyran terms," Tormano said with a salesman's smile. "I have a deal for you."

"I'm listening."

The man across from him steepled his fingers, looking more like his father Maximilian than Hanse was comfortable with. "My sister received the bulk of our House's assets when she took Sian. As it should be. But not all, and one exception is a bloc of Star Corps shares that House Liao had accumulated over the years."

Hanse nodded, more than familiar with the way such assets could accumulate in a sprawling family that had been wealthy and powerful for centuries. "Shares which have associated votes?"

"There's some preferential stock, but yes." Tormano spread his hands. "I have those votes and I have some credibility with voters who have not yet committed. They believe I am somewhat neutral, an independent source of advice."

"Which is true, of course."

"I am entirely self-interested," the Liao said, with a remarkable degree of honesty. "So... close enough."

"And since you're offering a deal," Hanse observed. "You want something."

"Yes." Tormano paused. "Certain assets of House Liao went to neither my sister nor myself. Lands in the Tikonov Republic, for example."

He nodded calmly. "You want Liao."

A snap of fingers. "You're as sharp as always, Prince Davion. Yes, I want Liao."

Hanse considered that. Liao, a fairly minor world in the Tikonov Republic, was the ancestral home of the fallen Great House. While House Liao had spread far after they managed to dominate what became the Capellan Confederation, they retained the title to their original holdings as a minor title as Chancellor. In theory, Candace Liao had claimed the title when she deposed her father and then relinquished it under the terms of the surrender to the Federated Suns. The actual world had been taken by the AFFS months before that.

"As a married man, you realise that making such a commitment without speaking to my wife would be ill-advised," he said at last. "I believe it would count under my giving the worlds to Melissa. But so long as you understand that you'll be swearing allegiance to her..."

"Of course."

Hanse steepled his own fingers. "Deliver me StarCorps," he promised, "And my wife will make you Duke of Liao."

"Your highness," the only son of El Diablo declared, "It will be my pleasure."

On * Our * Wedding * Day

Harlech, Outreach
Tikonov Republic, Lyran Commonwealth
12 July 3035

Frederick hated two things about his assignment to command the Armed Force of the Federated Commonwealth: firstly that it trapped him behind a desk more than being a Colonel had, something he wouldn't have believed possible. And secondly, that first point suggested that Katrina might be better suited to rule than he was.

There were good things though.

"How many of these can you deliver?" he asked the Blackwell Corporation, looking at the Bandit hovertank in front of him.

Fifty tons, with a fusion reactor that propelled the tank faster than a Locust battlemech. More armor than some heavy 'mechs, an infantry bay that could carry a platoon (or a squad of Landsknecht) and a modular turret system that could be switched in hours. This one had a PPC mounted but he knew the options were almost endless.

"Well," the woman said cautiously, "You understand that our contract with the Wolf Dragoons takes precedence."

"Ah, of course." Frederick tucked his thumbs through the broad belt of his uniform. As a Lyran he could have worn his school rag rather than the leather belt, but Melissa had advised he not wear anything that indicated preference towards either half of the Federated Commonwealth and he had taken that for an excuse not to wear those damn spurs. "But you, see, we have the Arcturan Guards and the Avalon Hussars to consider. Mechanized infantry, hover cav, all sorts of troops supporting them. And I'm very fond of streamlined logistics, so if these aren't available then I may need to talk to Johnston Industries..."

The look of a sales rep seeing a contract slipping away was a beautiful thing. "We are working on expanding production, so by next year -"

"Next year is good, but redundancy matters," he cut her off. "Tell me, Miss Blackwood." He knew half the people here thought she was a Blackwell by blood as well as employment. "Are your company willing to license this design to Kressly Technologies?"

"That's outside my remit," Blackwood told him defensively. "And Kressly are -"

Frederick's hand went up. "Kressly build the Brutus. One hell of a tank," he reminded her. "Tell your bosses that any deal struck with the AFFC will require at least two dedicated supply lines not open to the Wolf Dragoons exercising their option to purchase. If you can do that in-house, great. If not, licensing is fine."

He was sure they'd bite. Maybe not Kressly, that was just an example. But licensing meant money for signing a document and sharing some of their work. Blackwell would understand. The Dragoons... well, that was harder to say, Frederick admitted to himself.

He checked his watch. "Damn, I'm running late," he lied. "I like what I'm seeing, Miss Blackwood. If Nelitha shows me a contract that does what I just said, and that she's otherwise happy with, I'll sign. I'm easy to please."

Nelitha Green-Davion mouthed. "Liar" to him over Blackwood's shoulder.

"Think the Dragoons will sign off on it?" he asked her once the sales representative was gone.

The general considered. "I think so. The modular turret technology isn't all that sensitive since they shared it with Defiance already."

The Steiner nodded in agreement. "Good. Good. Any news from them?"

"Still working out bugs," she admitted.

Defiance Industries had licensed what the Dragoons called omnitechnology and were applying it to the Rommel and Patton heavy tanks they'd developed for the LCAF through the 3010s. The two tanks were good, and shared a lot of parts. The idea of a single tank that could do the same work as either depending on loadout was tempting and the new fusion reactors made it possible to fit the best armor and armament options of both.

Frederick grunted. "Better be some news there. I want those tanks."

"We have priority for new Brutus and Manticore heavy tanks, sir. Don't get greedy."

"Nelitha, I'm not just a Lyran, I'm a Steiner. We're infamous for our acquisitiveness."

"So is every great house, sir," she said primly. "One might say that it's a qualification."

Frederick laughed at the blonde's sharp tongue. "What's next to show off. Upgrade kits?"

Nelitha shook her head. "We have some but none new. Defiance have shipped the first Zeus kits though, so we should have them in a few months."

"At last!" He'd been offered a brand new Atlas, but even with upgrades they weren't any faster and Frederick liked the mobility of his Zeus. The refit packages being offered were a nice way to split the difference. A full reactor replacement would be a bear to carry out, but seeing him get his hands dirty with the techs would be worth bringing up in his next letter to the troops. A reminder that if he was doing it, then it wasn't beneath any other wellborn officer.

It wouldn't be one of the precious Valencia Valiants, but the reactor would come with the new cooling systems and Frederick wouldn't dare use the upgrade to extended range laser and PPC without those. More armor, more LRM payload and a cellular storage for those missiles that should help him survive if they detonated inside... it would be a huge upgrade and Frederick was as eager to try them out as he was to see how they fitted into the interior of the 'mech he called Karl Martel.

"Mechjocks have to mechjock," his companion said with feigned resignation. "No, the new Landsknecht suits have arrived. You don't need to deal with anyone selling them, but we currently have more requests for them than we can meet."

The Marshall of Armies nodded sagely. A new toy that everyone wanted. "Let's go."

They boarded the waiting Blizzard transport - a development of the same Kressly Warworks who Frederick had suggested as a licensee for the Bandit. The fast but fragile hovercraft was becoming available in large numbers, which was why he thought the firm might be good choice for getting the Bandit into play. It had the space for battle armor, but more likely the Blizzards would remain in the rear carrying out the thousands of miscellaneous needs for lightly armored transport - the Bandit would be more survivable on the frontlines.

It was certainly more than large enough for a pair of general officers, but Frederick justified using one as his personal vehicle for the times he was bringing a larger group. It could easily carry a platoon of troops or a dozen wounded, so a noble entourage and their egos could be accommodated as necessary.

Nelitha straightened her tunic as she sat down. "Might I ask if you have arranged a plus one for the ball being thrown next week for the new Duke of Liao?"

Frederick glanced at her. "Do you have one yourself?"

"I do not, thus my subtle enquiry," his head of logistics explained.

He grunted. "You know we'll be in the tabloids again."

"You're not the best dancer I know, but you've got endurance," Nelitha told him frankly. "And the more time you spend on the dancefloor, the less you have to spend talking to the duke. He's bringing his wife, so dancing might divert him from bending your ear."

As tempting as it was to complain about sucking up to Candace Liao's little brother, even Frederick knew it wasn't about that or even the duchy of Liao. Tormano Liao had weaseled his way onto StarCorps' board of directors and it was perfectly plain that they would be a major supplier for the AFFC going forwards with factories on three worlds already and their original plant on Fletcher finally being rebuilt.

"You're selling me on the idea," he admitted. "Alright."

She looked at him patiently.

Women! "Would you, Countess Green-Davion, care to accompany me to the ball next week?"

"I would be glad to," she said sweetly. "Don't look so frustrated. If the worst comes to worst, you can bend his ear about setting up a Skye Basketball league in the Tikonov League. I'm sure he'll find an excuse to flee about sixty seconds into your explanation of the sport."

"Or declare his complete support and monopolise my time. Don't underestimate the man's cunning," Frederick grunted. "And if that happens, you'll not be getting as many dances as you want."

"I yield to your superior strategy," she allowed.

Frederick felt the Blizzard begin to slow and glanced out of one of the small windows. Through the armorglass, he saw the administrative offices. "So who wants the Landsknechts?"

"Everyone," Nelitha told him. "But since they aren't all here, all you need to worry about is Gerd Stromberg, Jaime Chirac and Austin Saint-Francis."

The commanders of the Second Federated Commonwealth RCT, the Third Federated Commonwealth Armored Cavalry - both currently stationed here on Outreach - and the newly minted commander of the still forming up First Arcturan Guards, revived after falling off the rolls over the course of the Succession Wars, Frederick identified. "Shouldn't Saint-Francis be on Fletcher?" That was where the Guards were supposed to be assembling.

Nelitha shrugged. "New toys."

If the Leutnant General didn't have some better reason, Frederick resolved, he would getting shreds torn off him. He pushed open the hatch and ushered Nelitha out before taking the lead in marching up to his office. "We're only getting one regimental set so far?"

"One thousand twenty-four plus spares," she confirmed. "More to come, of course."

The AFFC had over fifty infantry regiments and while their RCTs didn't have the absurd five regiment brigades of the AFFS, they were going to have more. That was going to demand a lot of Landsknechts...

All three of the officers Nelitha had named were waiting outside his office and Frederick glared at them. "Were you sent here like naughty school children? Don't you have work to do?"

"Sir, some of our work does involve you," Saint-Francis offered politely. "My new command has some issues that need your personal attention."

"The percentage of Arcturan officers?" Frederick asked bluntly. By tradition a minimum percentage of the Arcturan Guards should be drawn from Arcturus.

"That and -"

"Landsknecht?" he asked sharply.

For all he was actually from Arcturus, a Lyran man, Saint-Francis gave a gallic shrug that would have fit in at court on New Avalon. "Yes, Marshall."

"Your post is on Fletcher, the suits are here. You're not getting them just yet," he said bluntly. "I'll speak to you in a moment about Arcturans. Are you two here about the suits?"

"We're all eager," Stromberg admitted.

Frederick grunted and looked at Chirac, who nodded agreement. "You're in luck, Chirac. As much as I'd like to balance the Seventh Almach with a Lyran unit getting to be the second battle armor regiment, it makes too much sense to give the Armored Cavalry the next pick. Your mobility makes you preferable. Besides, the Federated Commonwealth Corps already has the first such regiment with the Fourth getting Gathos and her regiment."

Stromberg sighed. "I had to try."

"No, you didn't. Now get out," he ordered. "General Green-Davion, I trust you can manage without me?"

"I believe so," she confirmed, preceding the two chastened officers.

Frederick ushered Saint-Francis into his office and closed the door. "Don't sit down," he said flatly. "Now, I believe I've had this conversation with every Arcturan Guards CO so far, so I was clearly optimistic to think you'd break the trend."

"Sir, I -"

"Shut." Frederick pointed one finger at the leutnant general's mouth, which snapped shut with alacrity. "Now, let me make this perfectly clear. Your corps' agreement that twenty-five percent of your manpower would come from Arcturus was with the LCAF, not the AFFC. You and your brother regiments will get first refusal on AFFC personnel from Arcturus, but that is a gentleman's agreement and all you are getting."

Saint-Francis' opened his mouth, saw Frederick's finger jab closer and closed it again.

"A gentleman's agreement," Frederick repeated. "And if you continue to fail to attend to your duties by coming here without good reason, I will conclude you are no gentleman and that I am therefore relieved of even that obligation. Do I make myself clear?!" he demanded, voice rising to a roar.

"Sir! Yes, sir!" the Arcturan officer snapped, like a cadet.

The Marshall of Armies lowered his finger. "Do you have further business?" he asked, voice back to normal as if nothing had happened.

"No sir!"

A nod. "You may leave," he ordered and turned his back. The door closed behind Saint-Francis before Frederck had seated himself behind the desk.

[drakensis]

Auburn City, Galax
Crucis March, Federated Suns
12 September 3035

Hanse looked down the table, seeing who was there and who wasn't.

Yes, his distant cousin Nelitha Green-Davion. She'd been head of logistics for the AFFS and agreed to take on the same role in the AFFC. He knew she'd been lonely for years, the ice queen who worked with numbers and couldn't engage with people, but she looked happier now. Perhaps a fresh start on Outreach had helped.

No, his dear friend Justin Xiang Allard. He'd mourned the man once. This time he'd thought they could follow through with passing their duties to their sons. Children, since this time the Allard-Liao heir was a girl. But Justin hadn't returned to New Avalon, hadn't taken a post in MIIO. After disassembling the Maskirova he'd stayed on St Ives and was teaching at the academy there.

Yvonne Morticia was here, though without Doctor Banzai. She looked suspicious of where this was going. Someone who didn't trust him. It was... Melissa would call it cute.

James Sandoval represented the command stream of the AFFC, in place of Frederick who was too busy with the immense work of turning all their ideas into reality. The Marshall of the Federated Commonwealth Corps was flanked by Alistair Buchwald and Klaus Essen, the officers who needed to be here, the admirals who had never had a fleet worthy of their talents.

He leant forwards when the door closed and the security measures clicked into place. "Ladies, gentlemen. We have a situation."

"I wouldn't be here unless it involved warships," Morticia challenged him.

The First Prince nodded and activated the holographic projector in the middle of the table. The lights dimmed automatically as the dispplay showed them warships.

The doctor's eyes narrowed. The two admirals frowned, not in displeasure but not in confusion.

"SLDF ships," Essen said curiously. He read the one visible marking. "SLS Ulithi I don't know by name, but that's a Potemkin-class."

"So I'm told," Hanse agreed. "Records say it went missing around the time of the Exodus Fleet. Maybe it went with Kerensky, but I doubt it." He flicked the controls and brought up the next image, a close-up of the other vessels.

Morticia's tongue clicked in her mouth. "What's that?"

"I'm hoping you can tell me."

"It's not a Newgrange," she said, looking at the mobile dock surrounding what Hanse knew was an Essex-class destroyer. "I don't..." Morticia shook her head, long black air flying. "That's not an SLDF repair ship. Or not one I've ever seen before. Where did this come from?"

He steepled his fingers. "Where, is classified." Ross-248, an uninhabited system not far from Terra. "When though, that's more interesting." Hanse paused and then looked around the table. "Two months ago, a recon drone recorded this."

"Wait?" Morticia asked. "This is current?"

"On a strategic scale, yes." The First Prince leant forwards until he was almost kissing the steepled fingers. "We have more imagery. The drone was recording in detail and for research purposes, it will be shared with you, Doctor. But for now, there is one more image that I believe answers many of your questions."

Another image of the yardship, this time from an angle that showed markings. ComStar's banner gleamed on the hull.

Essen cursed. Buchwald shook his head. "Of course."

Sandoval leant back a little in his seat. "Potemkin is a transport. Huge, and more formidable than anything we have. I don't know enough to recognise the other ship, but are we just looking at two warships."

Hanse shook his head. "We're not. This isn't the only drone that found warships. Another system had a boneyard of damaged warships. But those were inactive, being maintained but that's all. This though... MIIO's analysts believe that these ships are being readied for service. And they're not the only ones in the first system either."

The heir to Robinson grimaced. "That's not ideal."

"I agree."

Morticia pressed one slender finger onto the table and examined her own fingernail with the air of someone who wasn't entirely within the room. "I will want to make my own assessment, your highness."

"Of course," Hanse assured her. "I would be very pleased if you can demonstrate that we're wrong. But right now we know ComStar views the success of the Federated Commonwealth with concern. After all, if we can fill the gap left by the Star League then what is the point of an independent Ministry of Communications, however it was rebranded?"

"They might suspect you of wanting Terra," Nelitha said coolly, lips curling into an amused smile.

"They might," he agreed. "But I can't assume that. The Potemkin is a troop cruiser, but what it could do to the orbital defenses of our capital worlds is no joke. And nor would bombardment."

"They'd be mad to take a Potemkin into low orbit," Morticia advised him. "But it could ram an invasion force past any practical number of combat dropships. Aerospace fighters could get close, but that assumes no escort... and the only weapons that would do more than scratch the hull would be nuclear in nature."

"Correct," Hanse agreed seriously. "When I return to New Avalon I will be having a conversation about amending the strategic thinking about our nuclear stockpiles. The Archon will be doing the same, I am sure. But those are the decisions of the AFFS and LCAF. What we are here today to discuss is the reaction of the AFFC."

"Warships," Buchwald concluded.

Nelitha tilted her head. "That will be expensive," and it was plain she didn't mean it in the terms of what most people did. She was used to a national military budget. "Not just the warships, but the infrastructure to build them and maintain them."

The admiral pursed his lips. "Assuming you're right, we'll need the ships to protect key worlds. Warships are mobile, but not mobile enough to cross the entire Federated Commonwealth. Nodal... we can't afford fleets. Small forces scattered across the key regions, but that will add up to a significant number."

Hanse pointed at Buchwald. "I agree. You've been planning for a fleet, Alistair. And you, Klaus, have been inspecting our yards. Doctor Morticia, could you tell me what the current situation is about our warship design programme?"

The black-haired woman lifted her finger off the table and opened her purse. The data chip she produced was slotted into the table and the images from before were replaced. (Hanse could have questioned her security, but he knew she never went anywhere without a security detachment many dukes didn't need).

The two Admirals both focused their eyes on the display, clearly studying the schematics rotating. Hanse looked just long enough to be sure it hadn't changed significantly from the last time he looked in on the planning.

Sandoval raked one hand back through his head. "Isn't this just an Aegis-class cruiser?"

"It's not just an Aegis," Morticia said sharply.

"No," Essen agreed. "Those engines are wrong. And the rest..." He cradled his chin. "Alistair?"

His fellow admiral nodded. "There are reasons we recommended this. The Aegis-class is the longest-serving class of warship in history. We know the Wolf Dragoons have an operational example that's getting towards seven centuries in age. That's a proven design, and we can't afford to re-invent the wheel."

"Is that why the turrets look like LRM carriers?" enquired Essen.

"That," Morticia said sternly, "Is a gross simplification."

Hanse smiled. "It's fundamentally true though."

"We... did license much of the basic framework from Quikscell," the doctor admitted reluctantly. "The SLDF built their fleet around a nested series of defenses, their ships served as parts of a whole. That's a luxury the Federated Commonwealth Navy won't have, so integral aerospace defense is vital. Sixteen turrets, each carrying sixty LRM tubes, should deal with that."

"I'd prefer energy-based turrets," Essen grunted. "No munitions."

"We considered that," she said tersely. "It would require dedicated power systems, cooling... it's possible, but it's simpler to use LRMs that can run off a local power network. They're simple and something as large as this can carry a thousand tons of missiles without issue."

Nelitha leant forwards. "How large is it?"

"Just short of seven hundred and fifty metres," Morticia told her. "The Aegis was slow, we designed the engines and plan for a much larger in-system drive, but that adds volume and mass. Current modelling says we're discussing eight hundred and forty thousand tons. Well into the battlecruiser range."

"Protection?"

"We're modelling it off the Dragoon's example, Admiral Essen," she responded. "We've just mentioned the active defensive turrets and the design retains a flight deck capable of deploying a wing of aerospace fighters. With four dropship collars, additional aerospace fighters can be carried externally."

Nelitha looked at him. "Can we build all this?"

"We have six jumpship yards that have the basic capability to construct the jump-drives," Essen confirmed. "Compact cores are expensive, but relatively simple."

"Just rocket science."

"Not exactly, but you get the idea. I'm not so sure about the Lithium Fusion batteries, but if we can't build them it will still be a functional warship," the Lyran officer told the room. "We have prototypes for armor, engines, weapons..."

"Speaking of weapons," Buchwald continued. "It looks like this is also copying the example of the Wolf Dragoons' Alexander."

"Yes," Doctor Morticia confirmed. "Eight triple turrets on the sides for long range autocannon, nine double turrets of shorter range weapons. If one of the production chains for those fail, we can relatively easy switch to a single type of naval autocannon."

The Federated Suns admiral nodded in agreement. "Makes sense. And a few naval torpedo tubes."

"Capital missiles," Morticia corrected him.

"Torpedoes is a clearer term," he grumbled.

"Six possible yards," Nelitha mused. "Since we're here, Galax must be one of them."

"And we must share production with the Commonwealth," Sandoval pointed out.

"Rather necessary given the costs," Hanse confirmed. "The yards are Alarion, Gibbs, Skye, Delavan, Kathil and, yes, here at Galax."

"Where do you want us to build them?" the logistics officer asked.

Hanse looked at the estimated cost of construction and considered the possibility of running off and leading a regiment, rather than fighting Ways and Means over funding this. No, that would be cowardice. And Katrina would probably kill him for making Melissa fight that battle. "Everywhere we can," he said simply.

"You want six of them?"

"You're right," he told his cousin. "Six won't be enough, so plan on laying down two at each yard."

The room fell silent. "Twelve in the initial order?" Buchwald asked.

"We can't be strong everywhere," Hanse admitted. "But if ComStar has to consider a dozen of these, with the prospect of two, three... four dozen battlecruisers in the future? That ought to convince them that they do not want to start a naval war. What's the projected build time?"

"Five, maybe six years for the initial order," the Team Banzai naval expert told him. "It's hard to say. No one has built a warship in centuries that we know of. Certainly not of this design. Once we have the first ones done, we will have a good idea of best practices and component manufacture will roll forwards so... two to four years for each ship after that. I won't be able to say more exactly for years."

Thirty-six, maybe forty-eight, by 3050. Enough to fight a Clan and with replacements for the inevitable losses in the pipeline to face another Clan and then another... "Alright. The sooner we start, the sooner we don't have to worry about ComStar visiting to discuss the continued existence of NAIS from orbit out of an excess of paranoia," Hanse declared. "I really don't want Terra," he added in a lower voice, to break the mood.

Buchwald, Sandoval and Essen all chuckled, the women did not.

"Nelitha, I'll need you to return to New Avalon with me," the First Prince continued.

"To do battle with Ways and Means?" she asked resignedly.

He nodded. "Some wars are never won, Marshall."

"I reserve the right to flee to Outreach once this is done," she declared. "I will have earned it, and besides, Marshall Steiner needs closer supervision. Sometimes I still think he expects Lyran levels of largesse..."

On * Our * Wedding * Day

First Circuit Complex, Hilton Head HPG Station
North America, Terra
1 February 3036

"Would you like to update us on the recent negotiations between Rasalhague and Tharkad?" the man in the primus' robes invited with a friendly smile that Myndo Waterly knew covered nothing but malice.

"I would," she agreed, because it was an order not a request however it was phrased. Her position wasn't much better than it had been before. She'd made the hard decision to push for the position of Precentor Rasalhague rather than remain at Dieron but Everson's position didn't seem reduced even with members of the faithful holding seats on the First Circuit.

Everson gestured invitingly. "You have the floor."

"Unsurprising anyone who has met the man, Haakson Magnusson exceeded his instructions," she told the other Precentors. "And also bit the hand that fed him."

"In more specific terms?" asked WIlliam Blane mildly.

Waterly gave him a sour look. Blane claimed to have a deep faith in the Word of the Blessed Bake but he also watered that down to secure his power as the replacement for Pedrigor Aliz on Atreus. "Specifically, Magnusson requested that the Archon cede further worlds once part of the old Rasalhague Military District and when that was declined, he pivoted to seeking military support towards seizing Alshain."

Vilnius Tejh chuckled drily. "I doubt that he received the answer he hoped. The Archon has taken the outcome of the last war as a sign that it is time to consolidate, not to reach further."

"That is correct," she agreed, throwing him a bone. Whatever she thought of Tejh, she had no choice at this point but to make at least minor concessions or she might be forced out entirely. "Prince Mansdottir had only agreed to the request for further worlds because of pressure from the Riksdag and he surely had no expectation of it being approved, but the second request was entirely Magnusson's own idea."

Precentor Luthien cleared her throat. "The Archon may not be inclined to war, but can the same be said of the First Prince?"

Waterly disliked the admission, but it had to be made. "Archon Steiner told him quite bluntly that he could appeal to Hanse Davion if he wanted, and would get the same reply: if the Principality wants another war that is their choice, but nothing to do with the Federated Commonwealth."

"I would have to agree," confirmed Huthrin Vandel. "The mood of the Federated Suns is that the unexpected use of advanced war machines in 3034 is something to address before fighting the Dragon again, and they are not yet at that point."

Mori cleared her throat. "And if the Combine decides to retake lost worlds?"

"From Rasalhague, the Suns or the Lyrans?" asked Huthrin. "I have no doubt that in that case, the Federated Commonwealth will move firmly. Rasalhague might remain neutral if they are left alone but..."

"Or make an attempt on Alshain," Waterly noted. "Magnusson has enough support that he could get away with this mis-step, suggesting that going for Alshain would not be unwelcome on Rasalhague."

"I don't believe that that is in anyone's interests," Everson concluded. "Although history shows that means little when it comes to the ambitions of great houses."

Waterly didn't stand back immediately. "Davion's viewpoint may change once he has warships."

"Inarguably," her old rival agreed calmly. "This would be a good time for Precentor ROM to report on that and related matters. Unless someone else wishes to speak first?"

No one did, and Charles Seneca was called in. Waterly eyed the man with regret: she had considered throwing support to him earlier in his career but Nicholas Cassnew had seemed a sounder bet for control over ROM. Unfortunately, Everson had backed Seneca and become his patron within the order. Approaches since then had been rebuffed.

"There are two principal developments," the head of ComStar's intelligence agency reported. "The first is confirmation that the Federated Commonwealth is indeed laying down warships at six different locations. We are now confident that this is not dividing production between sites but that each yard is intended to carry out the full construction."

"Blake's word," hissed Demona Aziz. "Are Steiner and Davion planning to drag us back to the horrors of the First Succession War?" Waterly approved of Aziz and assigning her to Kanata had been a recent success for the true faith: ensuring the HPGs of Canopus, Andurien and Regulus would be in trustworthy hands now that the three realms had formalized their Trinity Alliance and placed their capital world on the neutral world between their individual territories.

Seneca nodded solemnly. "That is a possibility, but there are anomalies in their construction that suggest there may be some other goal."

"What else could it be?" Waterly demanded. "With a fleet of warships, they could crush their rivals and perhaps even break down the defenses we have around Terra."

"Your latter possibility may be the most credible," the head of ROM told her. "Our analysis is that Davion has ordered twelve substantial vessels, at least cruisers. It would be far easier to build smaller vessels that would still overwhelm any ability the Free Worlds League, Draconis Combine and other realms have to fight warships. The First Prince is far too competent to have missed that fact; so if he is building large warships he must be anticipating a conflict against warships or comparable opposition."

She felt her heart jump. "He is planning to despoil Terra itself!"

"Unless we are missing some other threat, I believe we must assume he is aiming this fleet against either our Space Defense Systems around Terra, our warship fleet or both," agreed Seneca calmly.

"He can hardly know about our fleet," objected Vandel.

Everson shook his head. "We cannot underestimate his intelligence gathering. However, it does not change our obligations. I will have proposals to further expand our fleet prepared. We can at least restore mothballed vessels faster than the Federated Commonwealth can build them."

Waterly shook her head. "These warships must be destroyed before they are completed!"

"Really, Waterly?" asked Blane. "And how do you suppose the Federated Commonwealth would react to such an attack? Even if ROM is not identified as the responsible party, they would surely take it as the act of the Free Worlds League or the Draconis Combine, triggering exactly the war we wish to avert."

"Better that than we find those ships in the skies above us!"

"Destroying them now would not be a substantial setback," Mori pointed out, face calm. "At the least, any action should be timed to take place after substantial resources have been spent, maximising the cost to the Federated Commonwealth. Could more subtle sabotage reduce these vessels to failures without an obvious attack? They are immensely complex and painting them as expensive boondoggles would do political damage to both thrones."

The suggestion gave Waterly pause and she looked at her protege. "Tempting," she allowed. "But sabotage can be undone."

"I cannot confidently state that we can infiltrate all six yards," Seneca pointed out. "We are exploring opportunities, but I cannot offer the sort of decisive strikes being discussed. I have taken the liberty of assuming that this is a high priority and allocated resources accordingly."

"You are correct," Everson agreed. "Whether or not to take direct action is something we will no doubt discuss at length, but until it is actually practical our debates will remain theoretical. Do you have anything more specific to say about the warships, Charles?"

"Not at this time," the Precentor confirmed. "We have an operation underway to discreetly access the design data. It is unlikely to be complete, if only because several details may not yet have been finalised, but once we have a report, I hope to be able to provide a more detailed threat assessment."

"I cannot say I look forward to seeing that," Tejh murmured. "But we do need it."

"What was the other matter you wished to bring to our attention?" asked Blane, leaning forwards.

Seneca smiled thinly. "Slightly better news, I am pleased to say. We have confirmed data secured from the Valiant factory on Valencia about the Federated Commonwealth's new fusion reactor design."

Watery almost spat. "And this is good news?"

"In the sense that they have missed the mark," Seneca clarified. "Comparing our data to what was recovered, the new Valencia Valiant which the AFFC is apparently ordering mass production of is not equivalent to the Star League era reactors used by the ComGuards."

"It isn't?" asked Vandel in surprise. "I understood NAIS to be making excellent progress, with help from the Wolf Dragoons."

Seneca nodded obsequiously. "That was our own estimation but they have made a key mis-step somewhere in the development, leading to a less capable result. We're still trying to establish what led them down this route but the result is that the reactors will not be as light as those used by the SLDF. Better, I confess, than the reactors currently in service, but not as bad as we feared."

"Not as bad, does not make them good news," Waterly said firmly.

"I'll take what I can get at this point," Vandel grumbled. "It's possible the shift to production over further development is because of the Combine's lostech material."

"It could be," Blane agreed. "And while Davion and Steiner paying a fortune for inferior technology is a small comfort, that is still better than the performance of equipment used by either side of the Free Worlds League civil war."

Aziz spoke sharply; "It is no longer a civil war."

"That is largely going to depend on how the fighting turns out," countered Blane.

"Enough, both of you," Everson told them firmly. "Thank you for your report, Precentor ROM."

"Blake's work be done," Seneca said, pulling his hood up and backing away out of the circle of ComStar's leadership.

"Does anyone have anything that actually qualifies as good news?" asked Vandel sarcastically. "An upswing of Free Skye activity or something?"

Tejh shook his head. "No, quite the contrary. Sources on Skye say that Duchess Aten has managed to establish financial links between some of her more problematic critics and Ryan Steiner. Nothing strictly criminal, but enough that she's preparing an edict banning him from entering the Federation of Skye."

"Can she do that?" asked Mori in surprise.

"It would be hard if Katrina Steiner objected," the former Precentor-Advocate of Sian told them. "But as one of her own internal problems, that seems unlikely. It won't have much direct effect because his own world isn't in Skye and he's still married to the Tamar heiress. But it will be politically embarrassing for the Duke of Porrima."

Waterly frowned. Everything seemed to be going Hanse Davion's way. It was hard to see how he and his mother-in-law were doing so well without something else going on to support them. Was it possible that they had penetrated ComStar somehow? There were too many people at even this level who didn't see the clear direction of Blake's guidance, but could some of them have fallen so far that they were actively assisting the arch-devil?

[Daryk]

I'm DELIGHTED to see Nelitha again!  I can only hope we get to see the wedding this time. :D

Excellent depiction of Melissa reining in Hanse's worse ideas.  A true partnership indeed!

At least Morticia is finally on board with building WarShips... that should help move things along there...

And man, even when they're smart, Comstar is just... WRONG! ;D

[Seydlitz]

Great story so far, glad to see it updated so quickly now that the forum is back up!

One minor problem I've noticed. The Vindicator isn't built on Tikonov, only on Capella by Ceres Metals. Thats actually a key point in it's TRO:3025 entry, all of it's components are made on Capella with the small laser being the exception because the CCAF forced Ceres to use at least one non proprietary part to stimulate internal trade.

[drakensis]

One minor problem I've noticed. The Vindicator isn't built on Tikonov, only on Capella by Ceres Metals. Thats actually a key point in it's TRO:3025 entry, all of it's components are made on Capella with the small laser being the exception because the CCAF forced Ceres to use at least one non proprietary part to stimulate internal trade.

Melissa had a Ceres Metals repair facility on Tikonov upgraded to full production of the Vindicator starting the upgrades shortly after the end of the Fourth Succession War.

This comes up in the scene where she's talking to Candace on the balcony at Tikograd.

[Vehrec]

It seems rather extraordinarily fast to go from 'let's build warships now' to 'we have laid down warships' in less than six MONTHS.  And this is less than 10 years after the end of the 4th succession war.  It's only been five years since they emptied out Jamie Wolf's pockets.  The infrastructure, not just yards, but the subcomponent supply lines, expanding the workforce, etc.  Its probably going to be more than 5-6 years to build those ships, especially if each yard has it's own unique setbacks.

[Moriarty74]

It seems rather extraordinarily fast to go from 'let's build warships now' to 'we have laid down warships' in less than six MONTHS.  And this is less than 10 years after the end of the 4th succession war.  It's only been five years since they emptied out Jamie Wolf's pockets.  The infrastructure, not just yards, but the subcomponent supply lines, expanding the workforce, etc.  Its probably going to be more than 5-6 years to build those ships, especially if each yard has it's own unique setbacks.

It said that they are laying down, to me that was along the lines of preparing the slips, gathering the materials, not just constructing already.

[drakensis]

Cunningham City, Kestrel
Crucis March, Federated Suns
4 May 3036

Hilda Delf was wearing civvies for this visit to her old command's museum, not wanting to draw attention.

Most of the Kestrel CrMM's history was presented as it had been last time she was there, tracing their past from when House Davion had elevated local militias during the build-up of forces in the later Star League, through the trials of the early Succession Wars when the Crucis March had been on the frontlines and, following this, the less dramatic moments since when they had mobilized against raids and natural catastrophes rather than invasion.

The centrepoint remained the towering Thug battlemech that stood tall and proud over the other exhibits. While the blue and tan paintwork was artistically battle-damaged, Hilda knew that the ancient machine was maintained in a state that it could be driven. In fact, unless someone had changed her codes, she could probably get in right now and power it up if the security guards didn't stop her.

Not that she would. The authority to field the Thug was reserved to the commander of the Kestrel CrMM alone for the infamy of its only known pilot. Only in the direst emergency would the Kestrel CrMM stain their honor by deploying the personal battlemech of Coordinator Jinjiro Kurita.

The banner of the First Sword of Light, captured decades later, was another reason for the guards. House Kurita had tried more than once to recover or destroy those two trophies. But as Hilda walked past it, she saw another standard flying, this one also a DCMS pennant but one that hadn't been here when she last visited.

Crossing, she found an entire display, the contents of which were unsettlingly familiar even if she'd never seen them in this context.

Her pace slowed as she saw that the captured flag of the Sixteenth Galedon Regulars flew above maps and holopics of the Battle of Marduk.

A family were looking at them, a child looking back at the Thug while his parents read the placards explaining what they were looking at. The boy looked up at Hilda as she approached, then puzzled, up at the display.

Please god, let that holopic not be there! Hilda thought as she arrived and looked. The maps looked as if they might actually be her own, grease-pen markings showing stages of the fighting, overlaid with data gathered from BattleROMs that she didn't have at the time. One map that definitely wasn't hers showed where every battlemech dug out of the swamp had been recovered and dated the losses, showing the eagle-eyed how 'control' of the swampy Tillerbee Jungle had waxed and waned over the course of the battle.

To her relief, her encounter with Natasha Kerensky hadn't been put on the display. Someone had drawn her head and shoulders, probably based on her official identification mugshot, to pair with a quote that made the tips of her ears heat: "'For the honor of the regiment.'

"Mom, dad!" the boy hissed, pointing at another holo, one that showed her standing in front of the wrecked Wolverine she'd piloted at the end of the battle. Hilda remembered posing awkwardly with Jaime Wolf next to it, and was relieved to see that neither of them looked as ill-at ease as she'd felt at the time. "Look."

"Yes, Hollister, we see Colonel Wolf," the woman said with forced patience.

The boy huffed in frustration. "No, she's here!"

"Colonel Wolf is a man," his father corrected him.

The boy looked at her and Hilda held one finger up to her lips. His eyes went wide and she winked before walking past. The way the maps reduced the messy, chaotic series of skirmishes look clean and organized made her uncomfortable and she decided she wasn't quite ready to confront those feelings right now.

Leaving the boy with what she hoped would remain a private understanding, Hilda moved on to the other new display, the one titled 'Future of the AFFS'.

Unlike her, the soldiers looking at it were in uniform. "I don't know Lajos, it all looks great on paper but..."

"They should have the bugs worked out long before we see them," the man pointed out.

They chuckled and Hilda joined in, the sound alerting them to her arrival. Both wheeled and hands jerked up reflexively towards their brows.

"At ease, at ease," she told Lajos Marduk - an uncomfortably apt name for her one surviving battalion commander from that battle - and Morag Khadijah, who had also fought there. "I'm not in uniform. For that matter, I'm not even in your chain of command now."

"It takes a little more than that to change old habits," Morag told her. The oldest of the three, the sergeant major had taken first her and then Lajos under her wing when they were assigned to the Kestrel CrMM, smoothing over the bumps of a secondline assignment.

Hilda shrugged. "Improvise, adapt, overcome. Isn't that what you used to tell me?"

"Something like that."

"How are things with the AFFC?" Lajos asked, offering his hand instead.

Hilda shook it briskly. "They're good," she said honestly. "I miss being here sometimes, but the kids are shaping up well. We gave the Snakes a good kicking in the last war."

Morag chuckled. "Our hotheads were sad to miss it. I expect half of them have applications down to join the AFFC."

"Only half?" she joked. "Our recruiters need to work harder."

"If you run into any, you may be asked for recommendations," the sergeant major warned mildly. "They can be... enthusiastic."

"I remember being that young and hotheaded myself," Hilda waved the comment off. "The AFFC's still closeknit enough I get hit with questions about applications out of Kestrel although that may fade now that we're expanded up past twenty commands."

Lajos snorted. "They may also be hoping that joining the AFFC will get around some of the equipment re-shuffling. There's a rumor that you're like old SLDF gunslingers, encouraged to retain your preferred 'mech."

She blinked and then snickered. "What? No, that's ridiculous."

The colonel - now commander of the CrMM battlemechs and second-in-command of the entire March Militia - shrugged. "Wishful thinking, perhaps. There's a certain sentiment that the 'mechs dug out of the Tillerbee are trophies like that," he gestured towards the Thug, "And the pressure to replace them makes them feel like part of our history is being taken away."

Hilda snorted. "Do you know how many Panthers we have in the AFFC?" she asked rhetorically. "Not many, and the plan is to have all of them replaced by the end of this year. It's the same for everything else that isn't built in the Federated Commonwealth."

"It's just hitting us harder because so much of our hardware is salvage from that one battle," Morag pointed out. "And I'm guessing that your Third FedCom are getting factory-fresh 'mechs not refits."

She was right about that, Hilda thought and looked at the display behind them. The weapons displayed weren't shown in detail, that would be a horrific security risk, but the panel gave an idea of what the future equipment of the Federated Commonwealth's collective military was expected to be. "You might be pleased with those refits," she told them. "From what I've heard, they should be coming with refit packages integrated before they reach you."

"Well yeah, but they're still discards from other units aren't they?"

"In a manner of speaking," she allowed. "But say... you're still driving an Enforcer, aren't you?"

Lajos nodded slowly. "And no one is asking for that to be turned in for something else," he admitted.

"No, but the Enforcers you get sent will probably be in better shape than yours," she told him. "The way I hear it, they're restored to factory specs so no more incompatible parts. And then the lostech components are fitted. If it's the same I've seen, then you'll be looking at one of the new Poland gauss rifles in place of the autocannon, along with more ammo stowage, due to weight savings on the ferrofibrous armor."

"Sir, is that classified?" Morag asked cautiously. "We're in public."

"No," Hilda reassured her. "The exact details are, but the broad strokes are in public releases. The First Prince wants to reassure everyone that we're not falling behind the Combine when it comes to lostech. Your techs are going to need to crack the books, but refits should be going out to the march militia units as well as regular units. It'll be years before everyone has them, but the plan is that every new and refitted 'mech sent out to anyone will be up to frontline specifications. It'll make it easier for logistics if every Enforcer is up to the same standard, repeat for every other 'mech in the AFFS, AFFC and LCAF."

The sergeant major whistled under her breath. "That's huge."

"It's a lot of 'mechs," agreed Lajos, "I guess that pulling foreign-built and out of production 'mechs out is the same idea: streamline logistics by cutting the variety of designs we have."

"But where are those 'mechs going?" the older woman asked.

"Now that is classified," Hilda admitted. "And also, I don't know. But given that this is coming from the First Prince and his princess, whatever the plan is, it must be big."

Hilda shrugged.

"So how good is this gauss rifle?" Lajos asked speculatively.

"I haven't used it," she admitted. "But the people behind the Poland brand are Johnston Industries and I took out one of the new Griffins for a test ride." She still preferred her replacement Dervish but if that could be upgraded the same way, she would be a happy woman. "Johnston built the new ER PPC it mounted and that thing packs a punch. Runs warm, of course, but it actually outranges the LRMs now - and it can focus even at point-blank."

"Now, you see, I like the sound of that," Morag said positively. "But I've been using one of our Panthers, and I don't expect whatever I'm sent will be carrying a PPC."

"Most likely not," Hilda agreed. "On the other hand, didn't we have to replace most of the Lord's Light PPCs with Donals when they were being rebuilt."

"We patched out the problems with the targeting system," the sergeant-major said defensively. "Mostly."

"Mostly?"

Lajos wasn't snickering at the older mechwarrior, but he did look amused. "Leftenant Brayker was not pleased when it turned out she was an exception and her PPC wasn't locking on except in test mode. We had to pull the entire targeting system and request a replacement from offworld. Which rather underlines your point, general."

"Well," she replied. "I don't think you'll be getting replacement Wolfhounds the way we have been in the AFFC, but Morag and Leftenant Brayker have a good chance of being sent upgraded Vindicators. And for the first time in two centuries, we actually have a reliable source of parts for them."

"Vindicators have PPCs," Morag noted, sounding excited.

"I can't promise without seeing, but there's a good chance they'll have Johnston High Speeds, and the upgraded cooling to use them," Hilda offered. "So you have something to look forward to."

"If we're going to talk shop," Lajos suggested, seeing a group of tourists heading their way, "May I suggest relocating to the bar."

Hilda glanced at the group and saw the boy from before was almost pulling his parents. "Perhaps that would -"

"That's the Black Widow!" he exclaimed loudly.

The general's hand met her face.

"Come on," Morag said, her voice betraying just how hard she was working not to laugh at the general. "Let's leave before you're swarmed by your adoring fan club."

On * Our * Wedding * Day

Murchison City, Murchison
Draconis March, Federated Suns
9 August 3036

Jeana Allard (previously Jeana Stone, Jeana Clay and another name she barely remembered) didn't often join her husband and other veterans of the Kell Hounds for their card games, but there was an open seat today and she took the opportunity.

As she drew a card, she regretted both decisions. The card didn't fit her hand, and Scott Bradley lowered his voice. "Dan, do you have any idea why the Archon and First Prince are building warships, of all things?"

Jeana's husband studied his own hand while Salome Ward also took a card. "I don't recall it coming up last time they invited me for dinner." Daniel Allard was known to both rulers but he didn't have that sort of status and while Jeana still exchanged letters with Melissa and Katrina, he had never enquired about their contents.

Cat Wilson leant forwards and took two cards. His tells suggested satisfaction and Jeana mentally wrote off this hand. "It's provocative," the Sergeant Major agreed, slotting the cards into his hand. "The AFFC is larger than the CCAF and DCMS combined, why do they need warships?"

"It's got to be immensely expensive," Bradley agreed. He tossed his cards down. "I'm out."

Daniel held, raising the stakes. "Being larger is good, but Theodore Kurita bringing all that lostech to bear may have them concerned."

"He didn't win either world he targeted," pointed out Wilson. "How bad could it be?"

The Kell Hounds hadn't been in the Draconis March for Rasalhague's War of Independence. On Katrina Steiner's request, they'd taken contract with the Principality and fought with Tyr, the Eridani Light Horse and various militias against Marcus Kurita's forces - none of whom had received the advanced SLDF machines seen fighting on Quentin and Marduk.

Jeana folded as her husband frowned. "I have friends from the academy who saw action there," he said slowly. "The Ryuken and Genyosha were punching above their weight, but not to the point that they couldn't be defeated."

Bradley nodded. "And how are warships a solution? Their only interaction would be controlling space or..."

"Bombardment," Salome Ward said flatly, throwing down her hand.

There was an awkward silence, broken when Wilson called. "Four of a kind."

Daniel eyed him and then sighed, dropping his cards. "Two pairs."

Bradley took the cards and shuffled them as Cat raked in the tokens. "It's not unprecedented, historically. But does anyone want to go back to those days?"

Jeana accepted her new cards, hoping that her poker face was good enough to keep them from registering that she knew exactly why the Federated Commonwealth had made that decision.

"I don't think so," her husband said, sorting his own hand. "And while we talk about the First Prince and Archon, you might want to think about Melissa Steiner-Davion as well. She's as much a part of their decision-making as anyone and do you think she'd go along with that sort of atrocity?"

Cat grunted and looked down at his card. "I mean, we met her on Styx but I wasn't exactly having her tea with her."

Inescapably, all eyes went to Jeana. It wasn't particularly a secret among the Kell Hounds that she'd served as a body double for the Archon-Designate, even if only her husband and Morgan Kell knew how far that had gone. "I am bound in confidence," she said simply.

Daniel nodded and Salome tsked. "Dirty play, Cat."

The sergeant major held up his hands. "Sorry, sorry. I didn't mean to go there. But speculatively, do they really need warships of all things? The amount they're spending, there have to be other things."

Scott Bradley gestured to the cards and Daniel drew two from the deck. "It's not just warships," Third Battalion's commander said slowly. "It feels very much like the Federated Commonwealth is preparing for a war. Not now, not soon... and I don't mean another Succession War. Not like the Third or even the Fourth, at least but..."

"As if there's another First Succession War, or maybe an Amaris Coup in the offing," Cat agreed. "It's little things, the streamlining, the way they're keeping the League off-balance by backing the Trinity Alliance."

"Politics," Jeana said with a shrug. Her hand was actually quite good, and she took one card. Perfect!

Salome hesitated and looked at her before drawing two cards for herself.

"That split was all after I left Tharkad," Jeana added. "Nothing I say about that is inside knowledge, but backing the Trinity is like supporting Rasalhague: shortening the borders with the other Great Houses by supporting smaller and less threatening powers."

"Yeah, but in that case..." Wilson paused and then held. "Who are they planning a war with? It doesn't seem like they're positioning against the League or the Combine... who else is there?"

"A long game against one of them? Waiting another ten or twenty years?" suggested Bradley, who dropped three cards and replaced them. His hand must have been terrible.

Daniel pursed his lips. "The warships will take a while to build, there is that."

"But what requires them? Who else," Wilson asked, "Is there to fight?"

"Hold," Jeana said quietly.

"ComStar?" her husband suggested as Salome ditched one of the cards she'd drawn for another. "I know the First Prince doesn't trust them and from what Morgan's said, there's a lot going on beneath the Order's surface."

Wilson studied his cards and then whistled. "Taking Terra? That's... how do you even plan for that?"

"Their security isn't that great," Daniel noted. "I mean, Jaime Wolf got a pair of swords into the reception and there was someone who almost killed my dad. If Justin hadn't been there..."

"That must have been surreal," Bradley observed. "He was playing at being a Capellan, back then."

Her husband shrugged. "Sure, although I didn't know who shot the assassin until after the war when Dad told me. The point is, they have those security guards at HPGs but Hilton Head's protection was..."

The door opened, interrupting the conversation and all eyes went to it as Morgan Kell entered. The tall, bearded colonel of the Kell Hounds had one hand on the shoulder of a boy several years older than his son Phelan.

Jeana did the math and dismissed the obvious assumption. Despite the Kell features, the boy must have been born when Kell was a recluse at a monastery. Not the sort of circumstances when he'd have fathered another child.

Salome had obviously made the same calculations and her expression wasn't hurt, just surprised, as she blurted: "My god, Morgan. How - ?"

Her husband gave her a rueful smile. "I'd like you to meet my nephew, Christian. My newly met nephew, I should say. Patrick..."

"My mother never told father about me," the boy said frankly, looking at the table and the mechwarriors around it. "She didn't tell me about him either until..." His gaze dropped.

Right when she had a decent hand, Jeana thought, as cards were dropped and the Kell Hounds all focused on the new arrival.

"You're from here?" Wilson asked, the sergeant major pushing his chair back from the table. "Man, we were here on Murchison, maybe ten years back... You don't look that old?"

Christian's lips parted but it was Morgan who spoke: "Patrick was short for his age too when he was a kid. He filled out later." His voice was steady, but his eyes spoke of grief for his brother, who he had never met again after his leaving on his self-imposed exile.

"I've seen photos," Salome agreed. She extended her hand to the boy. "It's good to meet you, Christian. I'm your aunt - Morgan's wife, Salome."

The boy dipped his head slightly as he accepted her hand. He must have been raised in the asiatic customs common across the Draconis Combine, Jeana thought. It wasn't surprising - border worlds like Murchison changed hands repeatedly and frequently had communities from both cultures.

"I think everyone here will have a great deal to tell you about your father," Salome told him. "Well, except Jeana who joined us after he passed."

Jeana waved to indicate who she was. "If you find them overwhelming, you're not the only one."

Christian gave her a slight smile that suggested he already knew what she meant while Wilson called "Slander!" in a joking voice.

Salome drew Christian into a conversation with the other Kell Hounds, Jeana giving up her seat for the boy, the card game forgotten.

"How do you plan to tell Phelan?" Jeana asked Morgan Kell quietly. "This will probably be a shock to him too."

The older man paused. "I'm not sure," he admitted, looking a little out of his depth. "He likes little Caitlin and gets on with Megan."

"Good," she said, feeling reassured. Little Phelan was sometimes a trial to keep out of trouble, particularly with a full regiment of mercenaries who were mostly more likely to enable the boy than restrain him. "It's easy to be jealous of attention."

Morgan looked at her thoughtfully. "You've seen it?"

Jeana lowered her voice. "Katrina was always very kind, but even so, Melissa was the real daughter. The moments when that bothered me aren't something I'm proud of."

Her commander looked at her for a long moment. "God does not give us trials to break us, Jeana. Just that we overcome them. That your first thought is to help others navigate their trials speaks well of you."

"Thank you." She paused. "And I wouldn't want Melissa's boys over Mark."

Morgan chuckled. "Indeed not. Those four will likely be worse than Patrick and I were when Arthur first dubbed us the Kell Hounds. How our parents put up with us, I have no idea."

"Worse than Phelan?"

"...well, let's say that sometimes sons are God's reprimand for your own sins," he allowed. "Are you alright otherwise."

"Your little revelation cut off the first hand I had that was any good," Jeana told him wryly and then gestured to the door.

He gave her a curious look and then stepped out, but left the door open. "I'd better stay visible to Christian for now," Morgan advised.

She nodded. "Earlier there was some conversation about where Katrina and Hanse are going with the military build-up. Particularly the warships."

"Ah. Katrina told me you knew," Morgan confirmed. "It's hard not to mention such things to Salome, so I suppose it's the same for you and Daniel."

"His father is running MIIO so he understands," Jeana told him. "But if these questions are being raised in the Kell Hounds, it's got to be talked around at other levels."

That got a quiet nod, inviting her to continue.

"I don't have a sufficiently secure channel to the Archon," Jeana told him. "But if I did, I would pass on that the uncertainty may be a problem in and of itself. Perhaps they know already."

"But it is still worth saying," he agreed. "The number of people who know the full truth is low. That's security, but there are surely more who can be trusted - you think that if more of the Federated Commonwealth's leaders were confident in the direction we're going, it might reduce the uncertainty in those who don't know."

Jeana shrugged. "I don't think anyone in the room, except maybe Christian, doubts that Katrina confides in you. But even with their trust in you, they're curious. It won't stop speculation. But without that leadership, I could see them poking to find out the truth and even misconceptions could be dangerous."

"How so?"

"How do you think ComStar would react," she asked, "if they thought that the AFFC was preparing to seize Terra?"

"Even though we aren't," Morgan said slowly and nodded. "Yes, it's a low trust environment. I will pass that on." He paused. "And Jeana?"

"Yes?"

"You're not wrong that Christian may be overwhelmed at times. You may understand that better than most of us. If he needs an understanding ear...?"

"You can be a bit much at times," she agreed mildly and was amused to see Morgan's concern at being included in that.

[drakensis]

It seems rather extraordinarily fast to go from 'let's build warships now' to 'we have laid down warships' in less than six MONTHS.  And this is less than 10 years after the end of the 4th succession war.  It's only been five years since they emptied out Jamie Wolf's pockets.  The infrastructure, not just yards, but the subcomponent supply lines, expanding the workforce, etc.  Its probably going to be more than 5-6 years to build those ships, especially if each yard has it's own unique setbacks.

A lot of the planning and groundwork has been done previously, but it's going to be challenging.

The yards were already being expanded and brought up to capacity that they could be used like this, systems were prototyped and tested.

The low key preparation had started within a year of the end of the 4SW.

[Daryk]

As I recall, Morticia was objecting at that point too.  It was a good way to show (rather than tell) that aspect of things.

[Daryk]

Saw the Enforcer upgrade over on SB... I think it's over-sinked and could use another ton of armor (to max it) in place of the extraneous heat sink.  Two tons of ammo for the Gauss was a nice touch, though! :)

[Daryk]

And just found the Griffin upgrade over there too!  The only problem there is that it seems to be missing a hand actuator.  That's a SWEET 'mech! :)

[Daryk]

Playing around in SSW, how about this for a Griffin upgrade kit:
Remove IS PPC, replace with cER PPC and IS Small Pulse Laser. (Class B refit)
Double the heat sinks (without installing any more). (Class B refit)
Ferro Fibrous the armor. (Class A refit)

Packaging the above into a proper refit kit would mean only about 25 hours overall: just over 14 for the armor, 4.5 for the DHS, and 6 for the weapons).

CASE would be a Class D refit, so wouldn't be recommended.

[Vehrec]

Low key preparations is one thing-but a 840kton Warship jump core is bigger than any jumpship except the Monolith.  It's gonna need exponentially bigger engines than any dropship.  Exponentially thicker armor as well, in far greater quantities.  It will need long-range search-and-track systems without any other analog in the Inner Sphere, and while it is based somewhat on the Aegis class, the added thrust and size completely invalidate the original structural design.

This would have to be high-key industrial preparations, vast complexes spun up to build long lead-time items years before anything can be laid down-unless you want a hull without any say, naval autocannons because the gunbarrel forge is still turning out bad guns.

[drakensis]

The Federated Commonwealth has had 5 years to work out what systems are needed, and how to build them at least in quantities.

They're estimating 5-6 years for the first batch because of all those likely problems, including slipways. Then 2-4 years for serial production, with a lot of the variability being how well mass manufacture of those larger systems works out.

The Terran Alliance issued a requirement for the first proper warship, TAS Dreadnought, in 2295. It was launched in 2300, although granted they only built six and not necessarily at the same time. But it's a broadly similar example.

[Vehrec]

The Terran alliance also was into doing impossible things like 'spinning up the rotation of venus to terraform it' and 'building enough primitive jumpships to colonize as far afield as the Periphery.'  Because nobody else has ever had the sheer get-it-done the Terran Alliance had.

And as for stood-up serial production, I'd peg the construction of a WarShip at 1-2 years. If you use the estimate that one factory makes 10,000 BV per turn, then it takes about 16 months to make an Aegis, 18 months for a Defender, 2 years minus a month or so for a Mjolnir, etc.  That's only a very rough estimate of course, all large warship BVs tend to cluster together.  And I doubt the Barron had a build time of just three months...though that might explain a few things.

[lowrolling]

Story is moving right along and thanks for posting. What is keeping Hanse and Melissa from outright ordering all weapons firms from producing double heatsinks at some level>  I mean even 40 a month from 12-14 different providers would make a dent in what needs to be gotten out to equip let alone supply the AFFC.

[Daryk]

I'm sure every manufacturer capable of making them is doing exactly that.

[drakensis]

Story is moving right along and thanks for posting. What is keeping Hanse and Melissa from outright ordering all weapons firms from producing double heatsinks at some level>  I mean even 40 a month from 12-14 different providers would make a dent in what needs to be gotten out to equip let alone supply the AFFC.

Because maintaining current designs (and vehicles) requires a steady supply of single heatsinks and will for a while.

Now, every supplier who passes the basic security expectations has the option to license Double Heatsinks and loans are available to put them into production. Only complete fools aren't either building them or working towards it.

DHS are being pushed hard enough that endosteel production hasn't begun because resources needed for that are being poured into more DHS. But it takes time.