Part 107: Political Vote 5 - Kerensky's Gambit

MVPs are done, now for the fun part!



Kerensky’s Gambit: Political Vote 5



“We’ve received a message from Richmond.”

Primus Julien Tiepolo’s eyes snapped open. To his personal shame, he’d been asleep in his chair. It was a pity the old Star League never mastered a way to reverse the aging process, he thought idly. Still, he’d mastered the art of sleeping through the more onerous aspects of his job: he had aides to worry about the fine details; he couldn’t have cared less that the economy of Cameron had fallen thirty-seven percent since Harmony had been taken by the Capellans.

An aide passed him the message—he didn’t even need to read it to confirm the contents. “They’ve been intercepting our second and third circuit transmissions,” he stated quietly.

“They have,” his aide confirmed.

Tiepolo rubbed his eyes. “Have you reviewed the contents of those transmissions?”

Another aide nodded, “I have. Civilian and economic information for the whole of the Inner Sphere is undoubtedly in their possession; which means they may be able to gauge production capabilities. Assuming they’ve also intercepted military orders—Takashi signs every order with proof that he is alive and well on Luthien; and Aldo Lestrade—”

“—has given away his nation’s entire battle plan to the Clans,” Tiepolo finished as he stood. “Send to all ComGuard personnel. They are to return to Terra, immediately.”

Charles Seneca, Precentor ROM, turned to face his leader. “… Sir, the HPGs will be undefended—!”

“A few ‘Mechs won’t make a difference; and now we know the Clans can use our equipment. A single ROM agent can sabotage an HPG as easily as a Level II can—and wasting precious Battlemechs in an unwinnable fight with no strategic objective is utter foolishness. No, we will assemble those ‘Mechs here and prepare to deliver a counterattack—or to exploit whatever bits and pieces these Clans leave in their wake.”

Seneca nodded, “… I’ll give the order, Primus.”

Tiepolo wasn’t finished. “We must deny the Clans their intelligence.”

“I’ll send the orders for a full interdiction—”

“That’s won’t be enough,” Tiepolo grimaced. “I want the second and third circuits disconnected from the Periphery to Tukayyid—he traced a line along the edge of the map. “After which, our agents on Gunzburg will release Kerensky’s Gambit.”

Seneca blanched. “The Destroyer Code? Why—surely, if these Clans are the descendants of Kerensky—”

“I am assured,” Tiepolo smiled wickedly, “that improvements to the Code have been made. We shall see how well these Clanners fare when their entire HPG network goes as silent as Terra after Kerensky’s failed assault.”

He turned to Seneca, “Now… what news of our operation on Helm?”



**********



Clovis Lestrade was in a foul mood, and it showed. “What are we going to do? There’s been no word from—the Red Corsair,” he hissed quietly, “and we’re not going to be able to put off the wedding much longer. My father is growing impatient; and when I petulantly demanded the wedding take place on Summer—he seemed thrilled and is already chartering Jumpships for the trip.”

Jenna’s fingers brushed the back of his hand. “It will be alright, Clovis,” she replied in soft tones—then leaned forward conspiratorially. “I’d marry you even if I wasn’t being forced, you’re a good man in spite of what your father’s tried to make of you. A brave man.”

Clovis looked away, “… but if I marry you, the Lyran Commonwealth—”

“Will be safe from your father’s machinations, once and for all. Marry me—”

“—and I protect Melissa Steiner forever,” Clovis finished, his expression quietly thoughtful, “but only if we reveal you as a fraud, and then my father—”

“We’ll cross that minefield when we get to it. For now, we have to trust Melissa.”



**********



“Morgan… Did things like this happen to my mother often?”

Morgan Kell smiled, teeth sparkling behind his rusty red beard. “Getting beaten, getting captured… then breaking out through guile a combination of guile and dumb luck? Yeah—pretty much. Did I ever tell you about the time your mother and I dropped into a fight between—”

Their cell door creaked, then opened. A pair of guards in the dress of second Free Worlds League Guard stepped into the room, rifles at the low ready, then fanned out to either side to admit a young man in the stark white paramilitary uniform favored by the Captain General.

“… The Red Corsair, I presume,” he asked rhetorically. “You’re younger than I expected. Don’t tell me the famed Red Corsair found the fountain of youth out in the Periphery?”

Melissa smirked, “Janos Marik, I presume?” she taunted—she knew better, but the Red Corsair wouldn’t which drew a subtle smirk from Morgan. “I could say the same. Aren’t you supposed to be bald? No, clearly you’re his successor, but I’m afraid you have me at a disadvantage.”

Duncan Marik chuckled, “I do indeed. You weren’t expecting six regiments of crack troops guarding a dry little dustball like Helm; and we’ve punished you for your temerity. The question is: what do I do with you? You’re clearly not the Red Corsair—”

“She is,” Morgan cut in, “the Red Corsair. Just not the first.”

“Ah, but the question is, will she be the last?” Duncan Marik replied, his expression running cold. “Tell me: why have you come here?”

“Believe me, it wouldn’t have been my first choice,” Melissa explained quietly as a plan began to coagulate in her mind. “Piracy wouldn’t have been either, but—well, I wasn’t exactly given a choice about either.”

The young Captain-General blinked thoughtfully. “Explain?”

“The Red Corsair Pirates—” Morgan interjected slyly, having caught on almost immediately, “Aren’t stupid. They need a Red Corsair, she’s a symbol of terror here in the League; but when the Red Corsair passed away, they needed a figurehead. Who better than the daughter of the original?”

Duncan turned, “Who better indeed? What of you, pirate? What’s your story?”

“He’s a battle captive,” Melissa spat out immediately. “Every one of us is—except me. The Pirates send us in first in a ‘human wave,’ to test defenses—”

“—and distract you with captives—”

“—while they plan their real assault. Their families are being held hostage on the other dropships—if they don’t fight... Captain-General Marik, we’re a diversion; with any luck you’ll still have time to—”

The cell door slammed open, another guard barging into the room. “Captain-General; we’ve just spotted over a dozen dropships entering the atmosphere; they must’ve come from a pirate point we haven’t identified yet! They’ve sent a transmission—a woman, claiming to be the Red Corsair is—”

Marik turned, “Well, ‘Red Corsair,’ it seems your story may have a bit more ‘truth’ to it than I’d first thought. Bring them to my command center. We’ll see off this pirate invasion and, perhaps if they’re helpful enough,” he eyed Melissa for a moment, his expression unreadable, “we’ll be able to pardon our pirate ‘friends.’”



**********



Takashi Kurita in silence, his white and black robes of state a stark contrast to the riot of colors worn by his court of retainers. His clothes played no favorites and, as the honorable ruler of the Draconis Combine, he was—in theory—to do likewise. He sat placid, hands folded in front of his belly: the source of all true decisions, as his retainers argued and bickered around him.

“—what you’re asking is for the Draconis Combine to expose its soft underbelly to Hanse Davion!” Grieg Samsonov barked, slamming his fist on the low table. “He would eviscerate us, he and his mercenaries both! You have enough troops to fend off these invaders; don’t demand mine as well!”

Theodore Kurita’s reply was as stoic as Samsonov’s was loud. “My Legions of Vega? Underequipped and dishonored soldiers?” his words were sharp, poignant—Theodore himself served in the Legions of Vega with pride; but he was more than content to exploit the low opinion in which they were held. “You would trust the honor of the Combine to criminals and degenerates while you and Hanse Davion have a staring contest? You know we cannot afford interdiction—and neither can Hanse Davion.”

He turned to face the rest of Takashi’s retainers—ignoring Takashi himself. The Coordinator could not be ignored—but he also could not be addressed. Not directly. “We have one hand tied behind our back—we must not tie the other. Give me the troops I need to repel these honorless ‘Clan’ invaders.”

Samsonov glowered, “even if Hanse Davion does not attack; we would be conceding every contested world to him. Worlds for which we have fought and died—”

“And will fight and die for again,” a third voice interrupted, drawing blank stares from most and a look of apoplectic rage from Samsonov. The speaker was a young man, fat as the Buddha and as foolish as the Buddha was not. Chandrasekhar Kurita, considered by many to be a drunkard and a fool, bowed his head to Takashi Kurita—a court Faux Pas, but who would have expected otherwise?

“Our borders with the Federated Suns is not the issue. We should negotiate with him: he longs to attack the Capellan Confederation, yes? Let us give him the opportunity. A truce, for the duration of the Clan invasion—and if we are to lose worlds to him anyway,” he paused, knowing his next jab would infuriate Samsonov further, “perhaps we could trade them for access to some of the Fox’s mercenaries?”

Chandrasekhar’s eyes met Theodore’s for the briefest of instants; the two sharing only the faintest of smiles.

“Merchant nonsense!” Samsonov bellowed, rising to his feet. “These ‘Clans’ are nothing compared to the threat of Hanse Davion and his mercenary scum. You fat fool, you ask us to make a deal with the Devil!”

Theodore frowned. “If you must entrust the Combine’s safety to scum—at least allow me to recruit all the scum I can and grant me this request: allow me to form a new, ‘Ghost Legion,’ from the unproductives and Yakuza—”

Theodore’s request was interrupted by a cacophony of ‘No, no,’ ‘Unthinkable,’ and other negative responses from Takashi’s retainers. He continued in spite of them. “They are Eta—scum—but they long to serve the Dragon. The Yakuza have a nickname for their Kobun. They are also called Teppodama, bullets. To be expended as needed. Let us use them.”

Samsonov glared. “What good are bullets,” he asked pointedly, “that do not fire where you want them to?”



**********



The soft pat-pat of tiny feet greeted him as Justin Xiang mounted the low steps in front of Romano Liao’s ‘country’ mansion. The leader of the Maskirovka stooped, then scooped the running child into his arms.

Perhaps the best kept State Secret in the Inner Sphere, two year-old Sun Wu Liao giggled and laughed, and sucked on his fingers as his father carried him back inside. He stopped only when he reached Romano’s court—a near-perfect replica of the one in Maximilian Liao’s palace. He carefully set Sun Wu down, then dropped to one knee.

“You wished to see me, Celestial Wisdom?” he asked quietly.

Maximilian rose quietly from the replica throne. “Yes, Citizen Xiang. Some of your recent reports trouble me.”

Xiang nodded, “the Northwind Highlanders,” he replied, fully cognizant of the reports to which Maximilian was referring.

“Just so,” Liao replied, trailing his fingertips down the length of his long moustache. He wore the last three fingernails of his right hand long, the current ‘in’ fashion for Capellan nobility: lacquered, adorned in gold leaf, and reinforced with carbon fibers that left them razor sharp.

It was a look that said ‘These hands have never had to do physical labor,’ a stark contrast to Justin’s own calloused fingers and short nails.

“Someone has incited them,” Justin explained quietly. “I am certain of it. Whoever it was—did not remain long, I am certain of that also. I suspect my father is involved.”

“I need you here, Citizen Xiang,” Maximilian Liao cautioned quietly.

Justin nodded, “Yes, I know,” he replied quietly. “I fear we may lose the Highlanders; perhaps to House Kurita, if they prove more interested in fighting Hanse Davion. Perhaps even to Hanse Davion himself. Celestial Wisdom, I suspect only a personal visit from you will be enough to assure the Highlanders that their home has not been forgotten.”

“It is so? Their loyalty has been so tarnished?”

“They are still loyal,” Justin replied. “They just need a little help to see.”

Maximilian Liao nodded, “—And our other affairs are in order?”

“The war is proceeding apace, the Warrior Houses are making good headway into the Free Worlds League; aside from some minor rioting there have been few problems on the worlds we’ve taken. Most were Capellan, once; and are content to be Capellan again.”

“Then perhaps you are correct. I have neglected Tikonov for too long, perhaps it is time I took an inspection tour.”

“Pavil Ridzik,” Justin Xiang replied with a wicked smile, “will be in for quite a surprise. I shall see to it.”

Maximilian smiled in reply, “I would have it no other way.”







Political Vote 5 (Clovis Lestrade):
C1) Marry Jenna Clay on Summer.
C2) Marry Jenna Clay on Tharkad.
C3) Don’t marry Jenna Clay.

Political Vote 5 (Red Corsair):
R1) Attempt to escape by any means necessary.
R2) Attempt to escape without harming the Free Worlders.
R3) Assist the Free Worlders in repelling the fake Red Corsair pirates.
R4) Fuck it, let’s find that Castle Brian already.

Political Vote 5 (Takashi Kurita):
T1) Maintain a strong presence along the border with the Federated Suns.
T2) Allow Hanse Davion control of every contested world to send every possible unit at the Clan front.
T3) Enter negotiations with Hanse Davion to free up troops to serve on the Clan front.
T4) Enter negotiations with Hanse Davion to free up troops to serve on the Clan front, and request mercenary support in exchange for border concessions.
T5) Allow the Yakuza to serve as ‘Mechwarriors, create the Ghost Legions.