Part 204: Political Vote 10 Results and Combat Theater Vote 9 - Operation: Backstab

Political Vote Results 10

A blazing sun beat relentlessly against the iron-rich red sandstone that made up Citadel Amaris. Young and dark of skin, the ruler of the New Rim World Republic paced in the scorching heat. New St. Andrews was hardly a pleasant world, the air too hot and cloying, humid at night; yet so dry during the day the barbarian-men of the steppes Claves who’d come to serve the Amaris family had come to use their world’s scorching nature as a punishment: A man of a rebel tribe would have his goggles removed at mid-day, and be blinded for life by the dry air before the ‘relief’ of the dusk’s humidity and the rare but torrential night rain.

The world suited Stefan Amaris perfectly.

Here, even Battlemechs had difficulty with the rapidly changing conditions; his own personal guard kept their machines locked away in the Castle Brian over which Citadel Amaris had been carved. New St. Andrews once would have been a defensive lynchpin for further expansion by the into the deep periphery, but the monster Kerensky had ruined everything. Well, if the monster’s children had returned, so too would House Amaris; and a new Star League would rise and crush Kerensky once and for all. Stefan Amaris just had to be clever enough to make it happen.

Amaris did his best thinking in motion, and so he paced.

Paced, and studied his map. Amaris loved maps, collected them. His map of the Inner Sphere, he felt, was more complete than any save perhaps ComStar’s master copy on Terra. Or so, he thought smugly, he would allow ComStar to think. Amaris was hardly about to disabuse them.

The soft clack of a cane drew the young First Lord’s attention, and brought a smile to his lips. “Ah, William,” he turned. “Welcome home! What news from ComStar?”

Tall and thin, William Cameron Blake was perhaps Forty years Amaris’ senior. He had served Stefan’s now-deceased father, as his father had served, and his father’s father; and his grandson Alexander would do the same when William finally passed.

Blake tipped himself into a low bow, as he always did. And, as he always did, Amaris took him by the arm and stopped him. “… The Draconis Suns,” Amaras swept his arm at the map. “Can you believe it, William?”

Blake blinked. “I had brought the news in today’s dispatches,” he laid the packet of papers on the table. “How—?”

“Ah, good.” Amaris clapped his hands together. “How goes Marik’s adorable little war? Do they fail as badly as ever? Is ComStar still misdirecting poor, clueless Duncan’s orders?”

Blake shook his head, “You’re not in the least concerned about the Draconis Suns? This changes—”

“Afraid?” Amaris laughed, “of the two weakest economies in the Inner Sphere, joined forces to more than double their bureaucratic costs and throw themselves into voluntary turmoil and inevitable civil war? No, I’m not concerned. I’m thrilled!”

He leaned forward, gesturing at the map. Paper, rather than the typical hologram, with thousands of pins representing military units. “There, see? The Black Dragon’s regiments are growing by the day. It will take a miracle for ‘Coordinator-Prince’ Davion to survive the year.”

He turned, glaring at closer portions of the map. “No, William, let the Davions and Kuritas tear each other apart. I’m more concerned that we’ve received no overtures from Chancellor Liao. The Maskirovka has been slipped reports of our strength?”

“Justin Xiang has dismissed them,” Blake admitted. “A few raids on their periphery systems will hardly draw their attention, not with a victory on Marik so close; and Morgan Hasek at their backs.”

Amaris took the news in stride. “We expected as much. Still, the Great Houses will hardly welcome me back with open arms—we need to force them to take notice.”

“We do have agents in place,” Blake pointed out.

Stefan Amaris VII tipped his head back and laughed. “You’re so literal, old friend. No, no assassinations. Not yet. First, we need to force the Inner Sphere to take note. Then, we need to save them from Kerensky’s bloodthirsty marauders. Then, we assassinate whichever of the Great Houses is most vocal about protesting my claim to the throne. Simple.”

Blake nodded, his eyes tipping up towards the ceiling. “As you say, my Lord. So it shall be.”

Amaris clapped his hands. “Excellent. Now, send word to our forces bolstering House Marik. Operation Brutus will commence at 0400, on the 13th.”



* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *



A cluster of men knelt in simple, unadorned gray and black robes. Their faces hid by Oni masks, they faced each other in a large circle. Each had one—and only one—retainer: Bodyguard. Scribe. In some cases, Translator. They, to a man, were Great Men, yet they were businessmen, and ‘businessmen.’ Rarely military.

“Our man on Solaris failed—so close, yet that damned Capellan snatched his victory from him! Phillip Capet’s death is long overdue!”

“This cannot be born,” another growled. “He will destroy everything we hold dear unless we can put him in his place! Better the Clans than Hanse Davion—” The man spat on the floor. Or would have, were it not blocked by his mask. The others in the room pretended not to notice as he struggled for a few moments.

“You are a fool, Owata Shiro.”

Were it not already near-silent, a hush would have fallen over the room. A man strode into their midst, his white kimono a parody of the robes of state. He was Dead, and they all knew it. From Theodore Kurita, the assembled men averted their eyes. Yet he was a Kurita, their rightful Coordinator. His honor sacrificed for them and their sake, and they all knew it. They bowed low, masks pressing to the warehouse floor.

“Kokuryu,” Theodore spat. “Black Dragon. You men are far too obvious.”

He speared each one with his cold, blue eyes. “Hanse Davion we will tolerate until Luthien is again ours, and we have broken the backs of these Clan invaders. What comes after, will depend on whether we have a proper Kurita heir. Kokuryu-kai, the Black Dragon Society, now answers directly to me.”



* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *



The plan had looked so good, Colonel Karim thought, laid out in the holotank. A Jade Falcon `Mech descended on pillars of white flame, the massive laser housed in its right arm coring a Manticore’s turret. At the Colonel’s order, the Demolisher gave it both barrels—the heat inside the venerable war machine spiking immediately to nearly lethal levels as the tank vented toxic propellant not out the sides, but into the ground beneath—and straight back into the main crew cabin. There was a reason Demolisher crews needed to wear a special cooling suit.

The Clan `Mech staggered under a hit, but its speedy profile defied a solid lock from the Demolisher’s slow-thinking computer. It leapt away in an instant, losing itself behind a low hillock. Ahmad Karim cursed. The plan had looked so good—two regiments of Arkhab tanks to hold the lines, while a regiment of `Mechs acted as a reserve force to flank and smash the Clan Heavies and Assaults the moment they got bogged down. It should have worked, too, if the Jade Falcons hadn’t simply bypassed the tanks with their fast jumpers, and smashed straight into the reserves.

Far less mobile, the Arkhab’s dug-in tank regiments had been too spread out and too well dug-in to come to the assistance of their `Mechwarrior brothers; and their battlemech forces had been cut down like wheat under a fieldsman’s sickle. The Demolisher’s turret spun, trying to draw a bead on another fast Clan jumper, but it was gone before the ponderous Demolisher could bring its guns to bear. Those fast jumpers had turned what should have been a rout into, well, a rout.

He ducked back inside the Demolisher’s turret. “Transmit our full BattleRom to ComStar,” he ordered calmly. “The Coordinator-Prince needs to know of the Clans’ change in tactics; then signal our surrender.”

He paused, “… they still seem to disdain tanks, so perhaps they will be foolish enough to let us garrison Asgard for them.”



Combat Theater Vote 10

A: Protectorate Iron Guard
Although twice they’ve been ordered to withdraw from the field, the Iron Guard of the Free Worlds League has never lost a fight. With Lyran forces reportedly crossing the Free Worlds League’s borders in an unprovoked assault, the Iron Guard’s easy pirate hunting assignment has suddenly grown a lot more dangerous.

B: Rim World Black Guard
The vanguard of the New Rim Worlds Republic, the Black Guard are second only to the Praetorians in equipment and training. Considered laughably underequipped by their League neighbors, this band of former-Mercenaries has been been awaiting the start of Brutus—and their revenge—with eager impatience. Their landing has already caught the recuperating Sirian Lancers unawares…

C: Praetorian Guards
The best troops in the Republic, and fanatically loyal to Stefan Amaris, the three Praetorian Guard regiments rotate their bodyguard duties yearly, so they may keep their edge honed and sharpened by front-line combat. Well prepared for the assault on the Free Worlds League, the Praetorian Guard stands ready to smash the ill-prepared 15th Marik Militia.

D: 2nd St. Ives Lancers
The Lady Chancellor’s order to redirect Capellan forces against the nascent Duchy of New Syrtis hardly came as a surprise to the St. Ives Lancers. Their regiments at the ready, they hold the honor of being the first Capellan forces to cross the border; and hope to earn the first victories and reclaim worlds long-ago stolen by House Davion.



Combat Theater Vote 10
A) Protectorate Iron Guard
B) Rim World Black Guard
C) Praetorian Guards
D) 2nd St. Ives Lancers

Also:
13 `Mechs have made the cut. You get two votes this time, and can vote for whatever you like (you can’t vote for the same `Mech twice, but that’s a given).

Final Entries:
DS3) Lion by Hob_Gadling
DS4) Victor by The Merry Marauder
DS7) Mackie by KnoxZone
DS14) Jagermech by GenericServices
DS15) Shadow Hawk by T.G. Xarbala
DS17) Yorinaga by TildeATH
DS29) Oni by Plek
CC1) Baba-Yaga by Felime
CC3) Po by Picard Day
CC4) Battlemaster by The Merry Marauder
CC6) Illuminati by Hob_Gadling
CC13) Raven by T.G. Xarbala
CC15) Pepperpot by AJ_Impy