Part 224: Political Vote 11
End of Mission / Political Vote 11:Less machine than a collection of still-functional scrap, the Bobcat pilot spun his `Mech about as Chiatzi brought his armament to bear. With a speed that would’ve done many a light `Mech proud it lunged up and over the ridgeline; its signal vanishing in an instant behind those iron-heavy rocks. Chiatzi pressed down on his Shadow Hawk’s foot pedals for a moment, preparing to follow, then brought himself short. “Let him go,” he decided, squeezing his eyes closed. “If we follow, he’ll just string us out and picks us off one at a time.”
After-Action Report:
Well, this wasn’t the way I was hoping to end this mission; but the good news is I’ve got a new series of exciting missions (including a couple of invasions) ready. I’d like to thank all of my players this mission, ambushes are always disheartening and you guys handled the introduction of several new `Mechs extremely well. So kudos, everyone!
We need MVPs again, but given the circumstances I’m going to fold that into the new political vote.
Political Vote 11
Citadel Amaris
New St. Andrews
New Rim Worlds Republic
3 July 3033
Strategos Michael Preston strode quietly amidst his peers, stepping into Stephan Amaris’ vast throne chamber. He frowned silently, as the young President bustled back and forth between seven map tables, moving tiny pieces about and occasionally pausing to take a step back for a more in-depth view of his simulated battlefields. The Amaris line had always been thinkers. Some in the Republic would even have called them visionaries; and yet none had a military mind. Young Amaris VII was nonetheless an armchair general, second- and third-guessing past military decisions on boards of felt and with wooden pegs in place of `Mechs, tanks, and infantry.
The absurdity of it had always tried Preston’s temper.
The assembled generals of the New Rim Worlds Republic stood at ease. Amaris had never demanded their attention, only the loyalty of each—and for their part, each man assembled was prepared to give his fair share to the Republic. In theory.
Amaris turned, a smile splitting his dark features. He held his arms wide, “Welcome, gentlemen! It’s always a pleasure! I’d like to congratulate you on the unqualified success of Operation: Backstab!”
Sweat poured down the back of Polemarchos Tom Dobson’s fat neck. His assault regiment had been destroyed almost to a man when it’d dropped into a Marik regiment on Sierra. “Success?”
Amaris’ smile remained, though his gaze turned ice cold. “Yes. Operation: Backstab was an opportunity to test our new `Mech designs in the field before we deploy them to our new Capitol. I consider it an unqualified success, well done!”
“Your test cost us quite a few of those `Mechs, and showed our hand to House Marik!” Preston stormed, stomping forward until the Clavesman that served Amaris as guards moved to rest their hands on the swords at their hips. The natives of New St. Andrews had fled the Draconis Combine not long after the state’s formation, and had sought out a world far from the then-borders of the Inner Sphere to colonize. Originally native to Terra’s Afghanistan, New St. Andrews’ harsh sun and rocky wastes had always suited them just fine. The men of the Claves were fiercely independent and served House Amaris with a deadly zeal, and yet they remained luddites, shunning any machine more complex than a wheel in favor of the strength of their own two arms. The average lifespan of a Clavesman was not long, even by the Federated Sun’s standards where sixty-five was practically ancient and eighty nearly unheard-of.Either of them could kill Preston before he took another step, or draw his laser pistol.
He froze.
Amaris continued as though he hadn’t interrupted, sweeping his hand over one of the boards. “Your decision to land one of your Battalions in the Calderas was a mistake, Preston,” he pointed out quietly. “Your enemy’s swift thinking and concentration of forces kept you from picking them off piecemeal, and they nearly cost you the full battalion. Explain your choices?”
Preston shook his head, “I have no excuses, sir. I made a tactical blunder and spread myself too thin to cover their possible search patterns. When they deviated, I wasn’t able to concentrate my forces quickly enough to compensate.”
Amaris nodded, “Clearly. So, next time—?”
“I would make the same decision. An ambush is sound, I simply needed to concentrate my forces and destroy what I could. A few stragglers with broken morale would hardly pose a threat later.”
Amaris clapped his hands, turning to the others. “And you, Dobson?”
Tom blinked for a moment, his beady porcine eyes glistening with moisture. “I went to UKAD, not the Nagelring,” he sputtered. “Warfare is an art, and I could have won if my troops had just stayed in line and filled in where I asked them to. It’s not my fault my troops were inferior—”
Preston glowered, “Don’t blame your troops, Dobson. They were good men.”
“Your troops were the same quality as Strategos Bibeau’s; and he won Butzfleth for us. Speaking of, where is that walking skeleton?”
“Dead,” Preston shrugged. “He was killed early on when his Ostsol slipped down a crevasse. His Neurohelmet snapped his neck.”
Amaris frowned. “Hm. Pity.”
“A young Tetrarch… Kemper Varas, I think, took charge of the regiment after that. The officer corps weren’t pleased, but he lead the troops to a victory. I had to pull him out of the regiment for his own protection. The officers corps—”
“Elevate him to Taxiarchos,” Amaris replied dismissively. “Any who argue get to join Tom’s new regiment. Speaking of, Tom? Your excuses aren’t enough. I don’t mind failure, you know that—but I can’t have a general who’s unable to learn from his mistakes. You’re retiring Tom.”
Dobson sputtered, but Amaris cut him off with a pat on the shoulder. “Today. At full pension.”
Dobson swallowed, “First Lord, all I’ve ever known is the military—”
“So take up painting,” Amaris replied. His friendly tones turned tempestuous in an instant. “Take the retirement, Dobson. You’ve earned it; and it’s better than the alternative.”
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“This was all a test, then,” Preston paced quietly, after each of the Generals had been called to task to explain his mistakes on the field, or for clarification of his choices. Or, in the case of Polemarchos Terraciano, for orders that were so badly communicated that his troops had floundered for half a day and then withdrawn without encountering the enemy at all.
“Operation: Backstab was never about seizing territory from House Marik!”
Amaris smiled, leaning against one of his vast planning tables. “You’re right, of course. No, my friends—our real enemy has taken the bait. According to ComStar’s reports, several fallen HPGs have resumed broadcasting. The Clan invaders’ garrison forces have abandoned them, and a vast swath of the Rasalhague District and Tamar Province are in open rebellion. They’re coming, Gentlemen, and I needed to know what you could do.”
Terraciano leaned forward, his great muttonchops twitching in the too-hot breeze. “Why not prepare ourselves here? New St. Andrew is much better, defensively—”
“I refuse to fight anywhere but our new Capitol.”
Preston rubbed his eyes, “My Lord, why Andurien? It feels like you’re abandoning the Republic in favor of the Great Houses.”
Amaris laughed heartily, “Andurien has everything I need in one neat package. No, gentlemen, put it out of your minds; Andurien is a battlefield and nothing more. It’s where we will show the Inner Sphere that the Clans can be beaten.”
In his own corner, Taxiarchos Andrew Buckley ran his fingers through his own highly-styled hair. Once an Andurien native, he still sported the faded purple Marik eagle tattooed on his forehead; a symbol of loyalty that’d gone out of style when old Janos Marik had died. His uniform shirt wrinkled as he leaned forward, the pocket on his left breast and the crease across his stomach giving it a vague expression of displeasure or perhaps discomfort. “What of Operation: Backstab, wave 2?”
Amaris’ eyes snapped closed as he pressed his palms to his ruddy cheeks. They snapped open again an instant later. “We made no effort to hide our intentions or troop buildup from House Marik. I’m certain they were expecting our attack, why else would the periphery garrisons be so strong? No, this is the outcome I was hoping for and I won’t throw away any of our strength on a ‘phase 2.’ House Marik should remain on the defensive for a while, since I’m certain SAFE has every detail of our planned ‘invasion’ by now.”
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Atreus
Free Worlds League
4 July 3033
“We still have no idea what the next phase of their operation will entail,” General Harrison Kalma explained quietly. Although he had no official ties to SAFE, Kalma was deeply placed in the intelligence community nonetheless. He paced quietly, his broad shoulders hunched. “This is a nightmare scenario, Duncan. The only reason we resisted the Rim Worlders at all is because our periphery garrisons—”
“Are full of regiments which should have been deployed months ago, I know. At least we showed the Rim Worlders our teeth, and the Capellans seem to have their hands full with Hasek.” Dragging his long fingers through his close-cropped hair, Duncan Marik was a handsome figure in the immaculately white dress uniform of the Captain-General. His features were strong, and his eyes were clear and focused on the problems of the day.
To Harrison Kalma, Duncan had been changed drastically in his time on Helm. Gone was the wild youthful warrior who’d won command of the Marik Militia regiments. His roguish smile was the same, and his eyes still seemed to shine with the same vibrancy of life and purpose; but he no longer let the petty details distract him from the affairs of state. “I know you don’t like it,” Duncan continued, “but we need to start full production on the Shoalbreaker project. I want one in every major command center in the League.”
He paused, tracing his fingers along the worlds connected in ComStar’s first circuit. “I’d also like you to draw up contingency plans for something I’m calling ‘Operation: Scorpion.’ I want plans for the full seizure of every ComStar facility in the Free Worlds League.”
“That’s very dangerous,” Kalma pointed out. For a moment, all other thoughts fled as he ran through the details. The seizures would have to be instantaneous, and without access to the HPG network for timing—well, he’d figure it out. He’d have to.
Duncan sat, leaning over a heavy mahogany table that’d been imported from Terra in the days before the Star League fell. Duncan ran his hand over the dark wood surface, his eyes dark and brooding. “Any News?” he asked, his inflection implying something singular rather than news in general.
Kalma nodded, “It was right where the Helm core said it would be; and more besides. There was a veritable treasure trove of lostech; but because of the radiation on New Dallas—”
“I don’t care about the lostech, Harrison. Is the Core intact?”
Kalma nodded, “Perfectly; and the data—everything we’d need to raise humanity from the Stone Age to the heights of the Star League, in one computer. Factory schematics, `Mech designs, weapons systems, civilian technology. Heat sinks that’ll make those advanced Capellan models look like cheap trash.”
“You’ll have to tell Halas he’s out of a job.” Duncan laughed.
“We won’t be able to keep it secret from the other successor states for long. Even distributing the factory specifications to every supplier in the Free Worlds League won’t give us much of a head start.”
Duncan Marik’s face fell as he rubbed his eyes with his hands. He straightened a moment later. “So we won’t try.”
Kalma started, “Captain-General?”
“Copy the weapons schematics. No `Mechs, no factories, but the weapons are all they’ll care about anyway. At least at first. I’ll record verigraphs for every House Lord but Liao; and we’ll send copies of the weapons data to each to aid them in their war against the Clans and as a sign of our ‘magnanimity.’ With luck, they’ll spend months testing the data for boobytraps and won’t pay much attention to anything else we may or may not have. Also, I want SAFE to arrange for a defector, to bring a copy of the data to the Capellan Confederation about two weeks after the other House Lords have it. I’m sure it’ll tickle Justin Xiang pink to think he’s obtained treasure right from under SAFE’s noses. We should be able to secure a hefty production advantage in the interim, and I mean to make full use of it.”
Harrison nodded quietly, tapping a fingertip against his lower lip. “They’ll still send spies,” Kalma mused quietly; “and likely some of their best, to see if we’ve held anything back. It’ll be hell, identifying them”
The gears behind Duncan’s eyes spun silently for a few moments as he stared at the table-top. After a few minutes, his lips curled into a smile. “We won’t need to identify them,” Duncan replied quietly, “We’re going to invite them right to Atreus.”
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Dire Spider
Orbiting Jabuka
Clan Widowmaker Occupation Zone
5 July 3033
Star Captain Ulric Kerensky rolled his rakish moustache between his thumb and forefingers as he let his gaze sweep over the bloodnamed of Clan Widowmaker. It was hard to believe that less than a year ago he would have been barred from this council, it already felt like home.
With all the bloodnamed of the Clan assembled, the invasion had ground to a halt—but it would have regardless. It seemed only the Steel Vipers and the damnable Jade Falcons would have supplies for some time to come, with the so-called Free Rasalhague rebels having severed the Widowmaker and Goliath Scorpion supply lines.
He’d heard rumors that the Goliath Scorpions had been clamoring for the council to abandon the Inner Sphere, and return to Clan space where they belonged. It wasn’t the first time Ulric had contemplated the merits of the invasion; he’d seen enough suffering of the freeborn populace of the Inner Sphere to last him a lifetime; and yet the Widowmakers’ reputations were at stake.
Less a center of calm in the council and more a badly-harnessed force of nature—much like powering a wind farm with a tornado—ilKhan Natasha Kerensky paced back and forth, her aid Conal Ward a half-step behind. “Warriors of the Council, this situation cannot stand. The labor-caste of the Inner Sphere rises against their rightful rulers. They must be taught what it is to defy the Clans, and to defy the will of the ilClan! They are not mindless animals; to be put down without a thought. They are men like us, no matter how inferior, and so I call a vote that you all may consider the gravity of the decision before us. The Invasion must continue.”
A half step behind her, Conal Ward stepped forward. “Bloodnamed of the Clan, a vote of ‘Aye’ is a vote for the suppression of this ‘Rasalhague Insurgency’ and a swift return to the invasion. A vote of ‘Nay’ is to pressure the Steel Vipers into allowing us to use their supply lines for the duration of the Invasion. With the ilKhan’s backing, only a simple majority is required to pass.”
A) Vote Aye
B) Vote Nay