10/07/3097 01:10
Dyrnwyn Conference Room
Dropship Dyrnwyn
Duchy of the Oriente, Free Worlds League

Garrick awoke to a slight lurching in his insides. Generations of Clan genemodding and selective breeding had been dedicated to removing any propensity for jump sickness from their trueborn warriors, and yet the condition was still so poorly understood that little had been managed save for taking the edge off the symptoms. Garrick was certainly better off than those unfortunate souls who were incapacitated for hours, but the queasy feeling he got after each jump had been a constant companion for years.

Then, of course, there were those lucky ones who barely manifested symptoms at all. Zeyal was curled up against Garrick in the bunk they were currently sharing, snoring contentedly, whatever reactions her body was having to the jump clearly not enough to stir her from her sleep. Gingerly, Garrick eased himself up and out of the bunk, taking care not to jostle his sib. Deprived of her backrest, Zeyal flopped over lightly, mumbling something incoherent and sprawling to take advantage of the extra space his absence had left in the bunk.

Moving quietly, Garrick retrieved and pulled on the bare minimum of clothing needed to make himself decent for walking around the ship: fatigue pants, a sleeveless undershirt, socks and boots. Then he crossed to the door of the quarters he and Zeyal shared, sliding the door open and shut as silently as possible as he exited. When the two of them had first joined the company--years ago, now--some of the more nosy, less discreet members had asked overly blunt questions about what Garrick and Zeyal’s exact relationship was; by Inner Sphere standards, they sometimes acted like siblings, sometimes like long-time comrades in arms, and sometimes like lovers. Taken aback, Garrick had told them that Clan society blurred the lines between the three, and that he and Zeyal were sibkin, the exact meaning of which was difficult to express to people who had never been raised that way. More than that, since leaving Clan Wolf-in-Exile they’d become each others’ main lifeline back to the way of life that they had left behind. He doubted the other members of the company ever came around to understanding what he meant, but over the years they’d at least gotten used enough to it that they’d stopped asking.

Garrick walked down the Dyrnwyn’s corridors without a particular destination in mind, staring idly at the gray metal bulkheads. The holovids liked to include scenes of their spaceborne heroes staring dramatically out of an enormous window at the stars beyond, contemplating their place in the grand order of the cosmos. In reality, those starships that bothered to have windows at all tended to keep them small and functional; solid metal was a far preferable bulwark against the vacuum, particularly for a combat vessel. As a result, anybody who traveled the stars regularly tended to spend a larger than normal amount of time literally staring at walls. It was something that Garrick had long since decided that he could live with.

There was movement up the hallway--somebody else, walking down towards Garrick. He peered at the approaching silhouette, and it resolved into the form of Yoshiro, who tossed him a weary salute. “Leftenant Wolf,” Yoshiro said.

“Leftenant Yoshiro,” Garrick replied. “Trouble sleeping, I take it?”

“Apparently not the only one,” replied Yoshiro. He gave Garrick a weak smile. “Jump sickness. Woke me up when we made the hop.”

“Same, actually,” said Garrick.

“Hm,” said Yoshiro. “Would’ve thought the Clanners would’ve bred that out of you by now.”

“Oh, they tried,” said Garrick. “Funnily enough, the Clans aren’t as flawless as they like to pretend they are. Remind me to tell you all about the history of Clan politics sometime; it’s every bit as sordid as the Inner Sphere.” A light caught his eye, making him frown. “Is somebody in the conference room?”

“Based on the Scottish cussing I heard when I passed by, I’m guessing it’s the Captain.”

“So the senior staff just isn’t sleeping tonight.” Garrick sighed. “Well, I suppose I might as well have a look as long as we’re both awake. Good night, Yoshiro. Um… I hope you feel better.”

“Thanks, Garrick. Same to you.”

Penelope had lots of little models of Battlemechs, Battle Armor, infantry, trucks, VTOLs, and other vehicles laid out on the conference room table. They all had hexagonal bases, and were laid out on a hexagonal grid laid out on the table. Each one was meticulously painted in Eden’s Guard colors. There was also a collection of dice on the corner, scattered about the table, floor, chairs, even on the podium and every other nook and cranny of the room.

Penelope held her forehead in her hands, tapping a pen on the table while she stared at the collection of models. With a sigh, she rearranged them about the table into groups, and studied it. She gave a groan, and put them all back in their original positions.

“Er, Captain?” Garrick stood blinking in the doorway. Whatever he’d been expecting the Captain to be doing, it wasn’t this--she looked as though she were in the middle of planning a full-scale operation.

“Hmm? Oh, hello Garrick. I, uh, I got up to take care of the twins after the jump, and couldn’t get back to sleep. I’ve been thinking these stupid thoughts and I can’t get them out of my head and it’s driving me mad,” she said, and laid her head on the table, “Running a Mercenary corporation is hard.”

“So I’ve been learning. Is something in particular troubling you?”

“We’re about to expand again,” she gestured to the figurines, “We need to reorganize the Company again. You know, we were supposed to be a Battlemech unit?”

She pulled her head up off the table, “Some Engineers and medics with transports. Battlemechs to do all the fighting. But no, I had to learn the importance of Combined Arms tactics on our first large-scale contract. I had to appreciate the roles of different kinds of units. And bought a bunch of boats,” she sighed, and looked to Garrick, “Garrick, why did I buy those boats?”

“Well, because…” Garrick found himself at a bit of a loss.

“It was a good deal!” Penelope insisted, “They were at a discount! Now we can patrol coastlines! If...We want to, why did I buy those boats? I can’t fit them anywhere.”

She stared at the boats again and rearranged them about the table, and stared at them. She placed their DI Multirole in with them, then rested her head on the table to wallow once again.

“None of the traditional models work. No matter how I arrange the units, we end up with underpowered or lopsided Lances. Specialization make some decisions easier, especially if we buy more equipment to fill gaps, but honestly, I don’t see some of these arrangements working. They just don’t make sense. Why would we equate a platoon of Infantry with four Battlemechs? Who thought THAT was a good idea?”

“Military history was never really my strength,” replied Garrick, “but if I had to guess, I’d say… some commander hundreds of years ago?”

“I know! It’s like we stick to these old traditions with numbers and ideas that make no sense, except for that’s what Napoleon did, twelve hundred years ago.”

She chucked a little model of the ancient Terran emperor across the room. It bounced off the wall, hit a cushion on a chair, and stopped.

“Lousy French Revolutionaries,” she grumbled, “I gotta think of some arrangement that makes sense so we can take advantage of the combined arms model. We don’t have ASF, we’re so mixed with VTOL and infantry...Mixing and matching like this isn’t working.”

“Hmmm…” Garrick walked over to the table and gazed at the scattered models. Old memories resurfaced as he reached out to examine them, and almost by instinct he found himself putting a group of five Mechs together. “Five Mechs make a Star,” he said, half to himself. The models weren’t Clan mechs, of course, but it was close enough. “Five battle suits to a Point, twenty-five to a Star… one Mech Star and one Elemental Star make a Nova…” He shook himself out of his reverie; the Captain was looking at him quizzically. “The Clans favor a modular model,” he said by way of explanation. “Stars, with rare exceptions, are all the same kind of unit--Mech, infantry, or aerospace. But you can mix and match individual Stars to make larger battle formations depending on your needs… Novas, Binaries, Trinaries, and so on. And they can be specialized or mixed. It’s much less rigid than the lance-company-battalion-etcetera system the Inner Sphere uses… which comes in handy for bidding forces on battles. And each Clan adapts the system to fit their preferred combat doctrine.” He shrugged. “But running a Clan’s touman is quite a different animal from running a mercenary company, of course. If we are still a ‘company,’” he added, staring dubiously at the number of figures on the table.

Penelope stared at the models before her, the wheels in her head turning about. She picked up a Lance of Battlemechs, and set it before her. She picked up two of the VTOLs and set them with ‘Apple Lance,’ and stared at them for a moment.

“Clans put two ASF to a Point, don't they?” she asked.

“That's right.”

“Four and Two, Mech to ASF, that's a Star League standard. Considering how much we need to mix and match our units, I think Points answer my questions,” she said, and gestured to some of their VTOLs, “I've always thought the way the Inner Sphere organization methods were rigid and nonsensical, and we saw what the Augmented Lance could do.”

She crossed her arms, leaning back in her chair, “So we sign ‘Values’ to different units, and build our company based on the units’ capabilities as part of the whole. What do you think?”

“So you’re proposing something like…” Garrick grabbed a handful of models. “So the normal idea of a company is three lances plus support.” He arranged the models thus--two Mech lances and a battle armor lance. “But if we’re not tied to that structure, and we’re in a different combat scenario--say a combined assault--we could also make something like…” He rearranged the figures, splitting the battle armor lance in half and giving one half to each of the Mech lances. “Making the unit structure more fluid means better operational flexibility. I think that can only be a good thing.”

“And it translates to many models so that people who do want to stick to old models can. But keeping ourselves organized is still important. War operations aren’t organized or fought with Infantry anymore, yet we’re still acting like they are.”

Garrick nodded. “And Mechs, for all that they bring superior firepower to bear, have operational limitations. The combined-arms approach will let us maximize our effectiveness for a wide variety of objectives.”

He picked up a pair of Mech figurines and regarded them. Unable to resist the childish impulse, he started making “pew pew pew” noises with his mouth, moving one Mech as though it were firing its weapons at the other, which obligingly fell down ‘dead’. 

“I’ll give the matter some thought over the next few weeks, and write you up an official report of my suggestions and recommendations,” he added, grinning at Penelope.

“Yeah,” she leaned back, thinking, “Of course now the question is, how big is everything? What’s a Lance, a Company, and so on? How many points does a ‘Mech give us? Is there a difference between ‘Mechs?”

She shook her head, “I’m gonna try to keep this simple, as best as I can. But I think we’re onto something.”

She stared at her ‘Infantry’ on the table, “You’re still gonna be a problem. Damn you, Napoleon…”

“Good night, Captain,” said Garrick, closing the conference room door behind him.

Captain Penelope “Dime” Trumbull
Commanding Officer, Eden’s Guard Security & Logistics Corporation
Lance Leader, Apple Lance
KIM-3C Komodo

and

Leftenant Garrick “Canis” Wolf
Executive Officer, Eden’s Guard Security & Logistics Corporation
Lance Leader, Wolf Lance
SHD-5D Shadow Hawk


11/01/3097 11:30
Eden’s Guard Brig
Dropship Dyrnwyn
Northwind System, Northwind Protectorate, Chaos March

Garrick nodded to the guard on duty. The Dyrnwyn’s brig was a fairly perfunctory affair, given space constraints on the ship and how often it stood empty, a simple handful of cells used to contain captured VIPs. Only one was filled, currently. Garrick had been making a point of visiting the prisoner regularly, including it in his duties as XO. It was an odd thing for him to do, but given that he was one of a small handful of people who were cleared to interact with her, it was either that or leave her in what was effectively solitary confinement for weeks at a time. Past enmity aside, Garrick had no desire to inflict that on anybody.

“Hello, Duric,” he said, walking into her cell and shutting the door behind him. “How are we doing today?”

Elizabet Duric was laying on her bunk, the pillow over her eyes. She hadn’t looked up when Garrick walked in. “Still a prisoner of war, as it happens.”

“I’m sorry to hear that.” They’d started having this exchange every time he visited; honest vitriol had drained away from it as it had become habit. 

“I’m going to have to report you people for your horrific mistreatment of prisoners, too,” said Duric. She gestured at a tablet that was sitting next to her on the bed. “I mean, subjecting me to this sort of drivel? It’s inhumane.”

“You told me you were interested in reading Clan literature.”

“Yeah, well, I didn’t know any better, did I? You could’ve warned me that it was just going to be pages and pages of your people kissing up to the Kerenskys. ‘Great Father’ this and ‘Honored Founder’ that--it’s honestly nauseating.”

“Ah, yes, it is a little preoccupied with them, isn’t it?” Garrick crossed to the bed and picked up the pad--he’d put a copy of his copy of the Rememberance on it for Duric. “That tapers off after the beginning. I can mark some later passages that are focused on other things. Are you interested in the Refusal War?”

Duric removed the pillow from her eyes and frowned up at him, puzzled. “The what?”

“The battle between the Wolves and the Jade Falcons, after Tukayyid. The exact political procedures are a bit complicated, but basically the Falcons were trying to overturn the truce with the Inner Sphere, and the Wolves were trying to stop them. It’s also when my Clan, Wolf-in-Exile, became, well, exiles.”

“Huh. Okay, yes, that does sound interesting. Mark it for me.” Duric was gazing steadily up at Garrick now. “Your Clan is back with the others now, though, right?”

Garrick didn’t respond to that, but the expression on his face spoke volumes in itself.

“Ah, so it’s like that.” Duric shifted her gaze up to the ceiling. “So… you wouldn’t happen to know when I’ll be able to get out of this miserable little box, would you?”

“We just hit the Northwind system,” Garrick said. “It’s going to take us the better part of two weeks to get planetside, of course. But I’ve talked to the Captain, and once we’ve landed she’s agreed to let you take some daily exercise outdoors--under guard, of course.”

“You know what? I’ll take it.” Duric sat up, perching at the edge of her bunk and looking straight at Garrick. “But… I’m assuming that I’m not going to be staying on Northwind.”

Garrick blinked at her. She was hiding it well, but the woman seemed honestly terrified, like she wasn’t sure if she was more afraid of knowing or not knowing the answer to her unspoken question. “The Captain’s planning on staying on Northwind for about a month,” he said slowly. “The unit needs a break before its next contract. After that, we’ll be heading to Liberty, which is where we’ll be turning you over.”

It was Duric’s turn to blink now. “The Liberty Holds?”

“Yes.”

There was a long silence. Then Duric let out a heavy sigh, sinking back down onto the bed. “What the hell,” she said. “It beats getting handed over to the Capellans. Or the Lyrans. Or… well, any number of other factions who’d pay to get their hands on a SAFE agent. I guess it’s about the best I could hope for.”

Garrick wasn’t sure what to say to that. “Is there anything I can bring for you on my next visit?”

“The key to my cell and a berth on a Dropship headed back for the League.” Duric snorted. “No, if you could just bring me… I don’t know, another novel. Something fluffy and stupid. I’m going to need a palate cleanser in between taking a crack at your Clan shit.”

“I’ll see what I can find,” said Garrick.

Leftenant Garrick “Canis” Wolf
Executive Officer, Eden’s Guard Security & Logistics Corporation
Lance Leader, Wolf Lance
SHD-5D Shadow Hawk


11/04/3097 14:45
Northwind Military Academy
City of Tara, New Lanark, Northwind
Northwind System, Northwind Protectorate, Chaos March

Ever since joining the Eden’s Guard, the very task set upon Saki was to completely repair, modify, and upgrade the Lance of Clan BattleMechs that her Commanding Officer received as a major portion of her inheritance from her father’s time in battle and during his great deeds throughout the years. As part of her new position, the very task that she must complete is to coordinate, organize, and instruct the Guard on its resources, equipment, personnel, and research. Saki spent most of the last few months simply training the whole team on how Clan technology functions, what makes OmniMechs and OmniTech so powerful, what makes the difference between Clan tech and Sphere tech, and what can be done to integrate the technology into the already existing tech available within the unit.

The transition into the unit had been relatively simple and straightforward, with little issues between Saki and the rest of the unit. The one person she did not expect to see again was the former Executive Officer Osaze, a man of great stature and respect within the unit who had finally retired. He had finally come back to visit the unit and has been on the planet for several weeks getting caught up with every individual. She was just finishing up a class on the properties of plasma weapons when she noticed Osaze meandering around the garden in the courtyard between classrooms, causing a ruckus with the students.

Osaze was an eighty year-old-man, with each year obviously marked on his face or hands or posture in some scar or stiffness or wrinkle. He had no hair on his head, save for his eyebrows, as the left side of his face was not made of skin, but of plastic, neatly and expertly woven in with the rest of his face. It was hard to tell where the skin and the plastic met, but it was clear which side was which. The color tone matched his natural dark brown, but there was a certain sheen that didn’t absorb light the same way, and the way it moved and bent was clearly inorganic, and he certainly had fewer natural wrinkles on that side, though natural wear and tear had certainly aged the implants.

He stood in a garden on the Academy grounds, strolling among the rocks and bushes which had been carefully vetted and cared for throughout the centuries by men and women of a line of gardeners that went back centuries to Old Terra. Osaze wore a colorful red, yellow, and green dashiki, which had a vibrance that made him stand out of place in comparison to the natural colors around him, and the slightly saturated but varied colors preferred by the Highlanders as a display of their Scottishness.

He puttered around a pavilion, enjoying the scenery and watching the cadets pour out of their buildings after class. A few of the students slowed to look at the man dressed so strangely walking about their campus; he pretended to pay them no mind, but was amused by the fact he was a spectacle. He’d had the same reaction to people of the Inner Sphere when he had been a boy.

Without having looked at Saki, he spoke to her.

“That was an excellent presentation, Leftenant, once again. I have gotten used to sitting in on your classes, but I must say, the people of Northwind are much too proud of their bravado,” Osaze said, and he pushed on his back to stretch, “Their need to prove themselves extends to their chairs by making them as uncomfortable as they possibly can. You Clanners have it right, I think; never grow old, Saki. Your body will never forgive you for it.”

He finally turned to her and grinned, “It is good to see you again. How are you?”

It had been quite some time since Saki last set her eyes upon the old soldier, but it seemed that he was as strange and interesting as ever. Indeed, she felt like she had learned much from him during his time as the executive officer of her unit. Knowledge and education were supremely important to Saki because it gave her an edge over her enemy. The more informed one is, the more potent and capable one’s response is to exterior threats and thus, there was always a desire for her to complement any lack of knowledge.

Saki gazed upon his strange, but familiar face and gave a very warm, comforting smile upon her soft lips. The young woman had her long purple tresses in an upward, swirling, formal bun along with pearl white dangly earrings, a titanium chain necklace with the symbol of her father’s house, along with a very formal, tight-fitting business skirt-suit of neutral tones. A subtle scent of sweet lavender, lilies, and honey filtered out from her young, curvy form almost overpowering in its intensity despite them being inside of a garden.

“Hai, Osaze-san. I do not plan to let my body grow old anytime soon.” she gave a giggle before responding to his next statement and question, “It is most pleasant and wonderful to see you again Osaze-san. I am rather well. The Unit is growing rapidly, and we are quickly developing advanced technologies and tactics for the future, but I must ask: what brings you to my little corner of the galaxy?”

She began to walk around the garden as they spoke, and the students meandered around through various conversations between classes. Most of them were intent on learning the content being taught by the varied topics that Saki taught. It had been a strange, but amazing adventure to be where she had gotten herself. She had never imagined that she’d be a teacher, but she knew that her father would be proud of her. It was always something she had hoped for when he was alive.

“I am old friends with many of the old Highlanders here on Northwind,” Osaze, “Including Penelope’s family, the Trumbulls. They’re an old family of warriors, and I got to know Penelope’s father during Operation bulldog against Clan Smoke Jaguar,” Osaze explained, and rocked his head a bit, a gesture he did to admit her was up to something. The old man did love mischief.

“Though, seeing old friends aside, I have found, this last year, that retirement does not suit me. I find myself restless and wanting to do more as events unfold around me, and I seem to have made myself somewhat of a nuisance on Liberty that they enjoy a great deal, and have entrusted me with a few errands to run, perhaps to get an old busybody out of their hair,” he added with a grin, 

Intently listening in to Osaze’s description of how he came to know Northwind and Penelope gave her a sense of hope and happiness that she didn’t quite understand at first. It was a plain series of statements and facts, but an underlying emotion crept through from him that made it seem significantly more complex than one would initially understand. It made Saki think about all of those elements in her life that led her to that very moment, that moment of realization that her life had been so daring and complicated on its own, that anything less than complete explanation of her own background might make her personality or struggle seem confusing at best.

A comforting smile crept along her soft lips as she walked about, gently touching the flowers to allow the texture of each one, each leaf and petal of those plants to be embedded in her mind. Saki only stopped when he mentioned retirement and she gazed into those old eyes of Osaze’s, “Does this mean that you might return to the Unit Osaze-san? Surely, we could use your immense experience and knowledge to our continued benefit.”

“No, i think my days as a military man are over. But I do not think I am quite done as a leader, just yet. I wanted to tell you, we received a message from the Captain this morning, directed to both of us,” He offered Saki a pad with the recorded message from Penelope:

”Hello Osaze, hello Saki-kun-” Penelope began in the recording. She was sitting under a canopy, in front of her Battlemech in what was essentially a giant parking lot. Caitir rushed onto the screen behind Penelope and ducked low enough to be caught on-camera.

“Hi Osaze, Hi Urufu!” Caitir declared, waving at the camera before darting away before she could be caught by Penelope’s death glare.


“Caitir has grown, hasn’t she? Ohresen has been healthy for her,” Osaze commented.

”Thank you, Caitir. I thought you ought to know, we’re finished on Ohrensen. It was a right mess when we got here, but we got them all sorted out, and the Capellans-sorry, ConMag-are quite happy with what we’ve left with them.

“Anyway, everyone’s in a celebratory mood, and the contract was pretty emotional for us. We’re headed to Northwind, and going to have some vacation before our next contract.

“Leftenant Saki, I thought you should know, and I’m sure Patil will tell you all about it when you see her, the Clan ‘Mechs performed admirably, and your documentation was a godsend for keeping them maintained, the parts are so different. I wish we’d brought you to Ohrensen; I ended up doing a lot of the coordination myself.

“Anyway, there’s probably going to be a lot of changes to the unit soon, but we’ve got to take stock of ourselves. We could use some reorganization. A lot of lessons learned on Ohrensen.”

The video had an obvious edited cut; people in the background changed places, and the clouds were a bit off of what they had been.

“Anyway, we’re packing up now, and we’ll be headed out tomorrow after everything’s packed. We’ll see you all in about a month and a half on Northwind, and we’ll be staying through December, I think-just in time for you to give Finals. It’s gonna be another Christmas on the Dyrnwyn. I’ll see you soon!”


The words END MESSAGE in red letters on a black screen took over the pad.

Her answer would come later though as he showed her a message from her commanding officer, Penelope. As she watched, her facial expressions and body language became more relaxed, yet respectful and kind, particularly when Penelope praised her for her exceptional effort in bringing their unit more fervently to the advanced stages of comprehension and organization required for a professional mercenary unit in the modern galaxy. There was still much work to be done, much work to urge on to forge a passionate, bright, future for Eden’s Guard.

Saki’s own soft, strange, bronze eyes gazed up towards Osaze and turned soft, perhaps opaque, in response to how she felt, “I am glad to see that Trumbull-san has proven that our methodology and tactics work when using Clan mechs. I am also glad to know that she and the others will return soon so we may celebrate and begin the next phase of operations. Caitir is looking stronger and more graceful than ever.”

She paused for a moment in quiet contemplation, intended on stating something then retracting it before asking a question, a curious expression upon her soft, but life-hardened features, “Does this mean that we have a chance to gather more forces and prepare for a brighter future for Eden’s Guard?”

The question was almost as if she questioned her own capabilities but also questioned the legitimacy of their place in the vast and diverse galaxy, a galaxy full of many other mercenary groups seeking to make their name on the World and create a path of their own making. While Saki would be most happy to see Penelope, Caitir, and the others, she worried deeply about the process and path that might take them there.

“Of course. There are many people who would be interested in fighting for, and as, the Eden’s Guard, and Northwind is one of the few places in the inner Sphere they would be welcome to recruit. Few people want to hear of an ascendant Terra. It almost seems like some sort of taboo among many, for what reason nobody seems quite sure. But keep to the ideals, and the rest of the Inner Sphere will follow our lead,” he told her, “Anyway, should we go find lunch? I feel a bit peckish.”

The simplistic answer had a deep complexity not known to many because most individuals didn’t bother to care about more advanced concepts. Despite what people thought, the world did not revolve around mercenaries or military organizations. Saki gave a considerate smile and nodded to him in acknowledgment, “Then I know we shall strive forward and become that beacon that the Galaxy so desperately requires.”

His mention of food actually made Saki’s stomach create a gurgling hungry sound and she giggled amusedly, “Actually… hai, Osaze-san. Let us adjourn to feed our respite selves.” she indicated for him to lead the way and she followed him all the while trying to avoid the students so that she could take a much needed mid-afternoon break, before the next few hours of courses.

Leftenant Saki Noa "Wolf's Rain" Urufu
Chief Technical Officer, Eden's Guard Security & Logistics Corporation
Medical, Engineering, and Relief Operations
Logistical Commander

And

Colonel Osaze Adeyemi
Retired Mechwarrior, Star League Defense Force Second Brigade
Special Consultant to the Liberty Cabinet


Homecoming: Penelope

11/13/3097 06:30
Trumbull Estate
Crieff, New Lanark, Northwind
Northwind System, Northwind Protectorate, Chaos March

“GRANDMA!” Caitir basically launched herself at the hunched old woman who had thrown open her arms to accept Caitir’s running embrace. Despite her advanced age, Jamilah Frozaan still managed to hoist her granddaughter up in the charge and spin her about. It was a sight to see; Caitir had taken her father’s height, not her mother or grandmother’s, and was already a head taller than either Penelope or Jamilah.

Jamilah cooed at Caitir in Pushtun, inspecting her granddaughter, “Oh, Caitir, you have grown so much! Last I saw you, you weren’t even your mother’s height yet, and now look!”

Jamilah shot Randall an angry glare and raged at him, “Look at how tall she’s gotten! We Frozaans have always made do with our modest height, what are you doing making my granddaughter so tall? I expect the Twins will follow suit after her, hmm? You and your American genes!”

As Jamilah hadn’t switched out of Pushtun, Randall had no idea what she’d just said, and to him it sounded like a lot of furious shouting. The old woman had even started to turn red in her beratement, but he knew her well enough to know she was not actually furious with him.

“It’s good to see you, too, Jamilah. Please stop yelling at me,” he groaned, setting down the bags; he’d been burdened with the twins’ bags as well as his own. Jamilah changed from scowling at Randall to beaming at him, and shuffled over to him to give him a hug.

“Ooof, always a pleasure, Jamilah,” he grunted, trying to reciprocate the oppressive squeeze, but the shorter woman had better leverage which threw him off. Jamilah released him, and turned her attention to her daughter.

“Mojdeh,” Jamilah said in a cool tone.

“Mother,” Penelope replied in the same tone. They stared each other down for a few moments, but Jamilah broke first, a grin breaking out on her face, which caused Penelope to laugh, and they hugged.

“Mojdeh, it is so good to see you,” Jamilah said, switching back to Pushtun, “I have had no one to talk to in Pushtun, and everyone here speaks in Gaelic.”

“Mom, this is Northwind. It’s full of Scots. You married a Highlander. Then you married another one. You’ve spent more time on Northwind than I have. How is this your complaint?” Penelope wondered. Jamilah shrugged.

“It isn’t Terra, and I need something to complain about. I’m an old woman, I’m entitled to my complaints,” Jamilah insisted.

“Well, I hope I can distract you from your worries, mother,” Penelope said, “And speaking of worries, I do believe you have yet to meet these two.”

Penelope gestured to the twins’ stroller. Jamilah knelt before the babies, and gasped.

“Oooooh, Mojdeh they are so beautiful! They look just like Caitir when she was a baby!” Jamilah reached in, unbuckling Rhona and pulling her out of the stroller. Rhona’s eyes went wide as she studied the woman that looked like her mother, but definitely wasn’t.

“Oof! She is so big already! You should have brought them sooner!” Jamilah admonished, holding up Rhona.

“Mommy!” Rhona called to Penelope in English, unsure of the old woman.

“It’s okay, Rhona,” Penelope said, pulling Khalid out of the stroller, “This is your Meme. Meme Jamilah. She’s my mommy.”

Penelope stood next to Jamilah so their faces were side-by side, and the twins could see the similarities and differences between them. Caitir got into the mix, putting her face next to Penelope’s. Rhona reached out, and grabbed Jamilah’s nose.

“Me-me!” she declared, squeezing the nose. Jamilah laughed, shaking her head a bit to wiggle Rhona’s hand while praising her in Pushtun. Khalid, not to be excluded, also reached out to Jamilah, hoping to get a handful of nose, too. She offered it to him, and he giggled.

“Meme!” he announced.

“That’s right!” Penelope cheered, and gave him a string of compliments in Scottish.

“So where is Maryjo?” Jamilah asked, referring to the Company Nanny.

“Most of the unit is here on vacation, which includes her. Something about ‘A hard night of drinking that’s been a long time coming,’” Penelope said. Jamilah laughed.

“These two are quite the handful, huh?”

“Probably more than I’ve seen in the last few months,” Penelope admitted, slipping Khalid back into the stroller. He squirmed and fussed and declared, “NO!” as she did, but Penelope was quite adept in forcing obstinate children into their proper restraints. Rhona fought the same fight as Jamilah handed over the girl.

“Well, now you will have a chance at a little bit of normal,” Jamilah said, “Such as ‘Normal’ may be here. You Scots never do sit still!”

“It’s part of our charm.” Penelope said, switching to Gaelic. Her family picked up their bags again, and followed Jamilah into the house, an old three-story stone building with balconies on each floor, and a staircase connecting all three on the outside. It had a steep roof and two of the corners were built turret-style.

“KENT! Ye 'n' yer sons ur standing thare peepin' this brassic fowk haul thair luggage oan thair ain. Dinnae juist staun thare gawking whin ye cuid be helping. Some hosts ye’r!” Jamilah barked at a trio of men who had been standing on the porch, watching Jamilah’s reunion with her family.

“Lay aff, wifie! We wur juist giein' ye th' space yi'll waant tae swoon ower th' babes 'n' swap awrite!” the oldest of the three men shouted back, leading the other two men toward them.

“Hello, Kent, it’s good to see you again,” Penelope said to him. He beamed at her.

“Hello, Penny. Always a pleasure to have you back here. Always feels right having you in the house,” he said with a warm tone. One of Kent’s sons approached Caitir, who punched him as hard as she could in the bicep.

“AH! Dammit!” he swore, grinning at Caitir.

“You’re not getting me again, Collum!” Caitir promised, “I’ve got you this time.”

She shoved one of her bags into his arms as he nodded.

“Yeah, you’ve gotten quick, Caitir,” he laughed, slinging the bag over his shoulder, and he rubbed his arm, “And strong. Ouch.”

Their ritual subverted, they were the first ones into the old house, which was filled with yet more family members. Greetings and hugs and kisses were shared all about, making the wading through the common rooms the longest and most trying of their journey to the manor yet, as they couldn’t turn around without having to say hello to a different relative each time. Eventually, though, they were able to cross the room and get to the staircase which brought them to the second floor. After distributing the Twins to relatives, they went upstairs, and into their respective rooms. After Kent, Connor, and Collum dropped off the bags with them, Penelope and Randall fell onto the bed together after swiftly shutting the door…

And fell asleep.

Captain Penelope “Dime” Trumbull
Commanding Officer, Eden’s Guard Security & Logistics Corporation
Lance Leader, Apple Lance
KIM-3C Komodo


Recourse: Penelope

11/16/3098 18:30
Crieff Medical Center
Crieff, New Lanark, Northwind
Northwind System, Northwind Protectorate, Chaos March

Dragan squinted; the light was much too bright. His ears were ringing, and his head was throbbing a bit, though it didn’t really hurt. Just felt like it was moving on its own. His neck was stiff.

He also realized that he wasn’t in his Battlemech anymore. Wasn’t the in the middle of a battle? Yeah, the battle had started. Hadn’t it? He looked about,a nd realized that this very bright room was a hospital room, and he was handcuffed to his bed.

“Oh,” he groaned, “We lost, didn’t me?”

“Captain?” someone said. He looked over, trying to shield his eyes from the damned light.

“Hyuh?”

“You’re awake! Thank goodness, how are you feeling?” the woman spoke again. Another person in the room left out a door. There was a third person in the room, and Dragan realized that they were an armed guard.

“Like I lost,” he remarked.

“Yeah there’s a good reason for that,” the woman said. He focused his eyes on her, and realized that it was Agent Duric.

“Agent, where the hell are we?” Dragan asked.

“We’re on Northwind. We, uh, have been made prisoners of war,” Duric explained. Dragan sighed and leaned back into his bed.

“Damn.”

“Yup.”

“How many did we lose?”

“You just woke up from a medically induced coma, Captain, we can answer those questions later.”

“That bad, huh?”

“It was pretty bad,” she confessed. The doctor came in, with the armed escort.

“Well, Mr. Ilianov, it’s good to finally meet you. I’m Dr. Greer, I’ve been taking care of you since you arrived on Northwind. How are you feeling?” the doctor asked. Without waiting for Dragan to respond, Dr. Greer took to taking measurements and sticking things into Dragan’s mouth, eyes, and ears.

“A it oggy,” Dragan said as a tongue depressor was shoved into his mouth, and Dr. Greer inspected. The Doctor held up three fingers.

“How many fingers am I holding up?”

“Which one of you?” Dragan said, and grinned, “I’m kidding. Three.”

“You suffered a nasty head injury, Mr. Ilianov, we need to be sure you’re alright. The Eden’s Guard kept you in a coma until they brought you here,” Dr. Greer admonished, but returned the smile, “Though your good humor is a positive sign.”

Dr. Greer ran a gamut of tests on Dragan’s reflexes and perceptions, which he passed, except for some muscular atrophy and the consequences thereof. Satisfied, Dr. Greer stood up.

“Well, Mr. Ilianov, you are doing extraordinarily well for a man fresh out of a month-long coma. We’ll be keeping you here for a bit longer, especially as you start rebuilding your muscle memory, but I’m afraid your special circumstances means you won’t be staying for much more than a month. If you have any dizziness, nausea, or fainting spells, let us know immediately, okay?” he said.

“Thank you, Doctor.”

“Do you feel up for a guest?”

Dragan gestured to Duric, “Do I not already have one?”

“Elizabet has been nursing you since you arrived on Northwind for lack of anything else to do, helping the nurses keep you clean and feeding you and reading to you. She’s less of a guest and more of a fixture,” Dr. Greer said with a grin. Dragan glanced at Elizabet, who gave a sheepish shrug.

“Who is my guest?”

“Your captor, Captain Trumbull.”

“So I am not held by the Northwind Highlanders in any official capacity.”

“I don’t know the details of it,” Dr. Greer said.

“Send her in then,” Dragan sighed, and Dr. Greer opened the door to call Penelope. Dr. Greer said farewell, and left the room. Dragan crossed his arms as Penelope and an old Africa man entered.

“Captain Trumbull, pleasure to meet you in the flesh,” Dragan said.

“The same to you, Captain Ilianov. How are you feeling?”

“I got this taste of salt in my mouth that I can’t seem to get out, at the thought of having lost my entire Company along with all my men,” Dragan admitted.

“Yeah, I hear that’s normal, given what you’ve gone through,” Penelope said as she nodded.

“How would you know?” he snapped.

“Well, I didn’t lose an entire Company, but I did watch my Regiment tear itself apart by fighting its sister Regiment because they took sides in a peacekeeping mission. I’ve seen my share of catastrophic failure, Captain.”

“Hmm. That would do it.”

“I’m glad you’re here, too, Agent Duric, because I wanted to talk to you two about what you’ll be expecting next,” Penelope said, and she gestured to the old man who had entered with her, “This is Colonel Osaze Adeyemi, formerly of the Star League and Terran Defense Force.”

Osaze gave them a bow.

“I’ve heard of you,” Duric remarked.

“Good things, I hope,” Osaze said.

“Good enough.”

“The least I can ask for, then.”

“According to the Free Worlds League, and the Confederated Magistracy, and the government of Ohrensen, you two are dead. If you were to miraculously return from the dead, it’s doubtful that you would be warmly received among them,” Penelope said.

“So where does that leave us?” Duric asked.

“It leaves you as refugees,” Osaze said, “In need of sponsorship. You could, if you wanted, run to the Periphery, or adopt new identities somewhere else in the Inner Sphere. But the danger in either of those options is considerable, though I have no doubt that either of you would flinch from such a prospect. If either of those are the path you would like to take, we won’t stop you. But you have alternatives, in the Liberty Holds, where I have some influence, and you would be more comfortable.”

“Unless the Free Worlds League attacks it,” Elizabet pointed out.

“Welcome to the Inner Sphere,” Penelope remarked, “Any of the Successor States would want to take you in, and you’d never be heard from again.”

“The Liberty Holds is giving you an offer here and now, with new identities and places as civilians. You’ll be explicitly hidden and protected,” Osaze said.

“Not for free, of course,” Dragan said.

“You may be asked a few questions,” Osaze shrugged.

“So you want us to betray our country in exchange for some comfort in a foreign nation, in a position beneath what we had enjoyed before.”

“I wouldn’t say it would be easy,” Osaze admitted.

Dragan took a breath, “I’ll give it some thought. I can’t speak for Agent Duric, of course.”

“I do appreciate you pulling us away from the clutches of the Maskirovka, Captain. I will admit, our current options are considerably better than the fate at their hands,” Agent Duric said, “The Captain and I will discuss it. We appreciate the offer.”

“Of course,” Penelope nodded, “We’ll be here on Northwind until mid December. You have until then to decide.”

Osaze and Penelope excused themselves, leaving Captain Ilianov and Agent Duric to ponder.

Captain Penelope “Dime” Trumbull
Commanding Officer, Eden’s Guard Security & Logistics Corporation
Lance Leader, Apple Lance
KIM-3C Komodo


Kearny’s Day: Penelope, Garrick, and Saki

11/18/3098 19:30
Trumbull Estate
Crieff, New Lanark, Northwind
Northwind System, Northwind Protectorate, Chaos March

The estate had gone from a parcel of peaceful country land surrounded by sheep, irritable Highlanders, and the occasional Battlemech.

In less than twelve hours, it became the site of a party with nearly five thousand people, with what was nominally enough booze for five times that many.

It was going be a considerable and constant challenge to keep up with demand.

The Eden’s Guard themselves were a large part of the attendees, and they were used to having large scale parties like this, but they only took up a fifth of the parties. The rest were locals, members of the Trumbull family, employees of the Trumbull estate, and people from the town of Crieff. Not to mention the hundreds of people from out of town and offworld that had come to Northwind for parties happening exactly like this all over the world.

The house, one of a handful of manors on the Trumbull estate, was reserved for members of the family and those explicitly invited to join them. There was even a rope strung up around it, which was respected by the partiers. Those that didn’t were descended upon by bouncers that ejected them immediately.

In the manor, Penelope was with, of all people, Captain Dragan Ilianov and Agent Elizabet Duric. They were, of course, guarded, and they weren’t to leave the room they were in, but the fact they’d been chipped with tracking devices made it all a moot point anyway.

“Do you know the story behind Kearny’s Day?” Penelope asked them, as she pulled out various bottles of liquor and mixing ingredients.

“Can’t say that I am,” Dragan said. Elizabet watched Penelope mix three drinks.

“Well, the first and oldest Northwind Highlander unit was actually from the town of Kearny, not the planet mind, a bunch of volunteers from a mining colony, and fought Confederation in the First Andurien War,” Penelope explained, starting with the whiskey, “Fighting against your own Oriente Hussars, as a matter of fact. They nearly got wiped out.”

“Okay.”

“They spent most of their career fighting the Free Worlds League, but in particular, they were famous for fighting them here, on Northwind, when House Marik and a number of Mercenary units attacked the planet. It was the First Kearny that turned the tide and broke the Marik invaders. Now, the Trumbulls aren’t a Kearny family-my own Da was a Northwind Hussar, one of Jaffray’s Own-Lorg sìth a-mhàin le cnuimhean-though most of the Trumbulls were with McCormack’s Fusiliers. But the Kearnys defended Northwind, so every year, we drink to their sacrifice and leadership, the First of the First of Northwind.”

She finished mixing the drinks, and placed the glasses before them, but did not pick up hers, so her prisoners/guests didn’t touch them.

“Now, what a lot of people don’t know is that the commander of the Jal’s Jeagers, the biggest of the Mercenary units the Mariks brought with them, and the brain of the whole thing, was captured after giving the Kearnys a bloody mouth and breaking more’n a few ribs. The commander of the Kearnys at the time, Colonel Marcail Senn, dragged him out of prison, fed him as much as he could eat, and they drank the finest whiskey on Northwind at the time all night, showing that even enemies raiding one’s home can be treated as guests,” Penelope said.

She gestured to the drinks, “This is not the finest whiskey on Northwind right now, not even the finest whiskey in the house. But it is the finest whiskey in the room, and that’s good enough for any Highlander, and it’s certainly good enough for me.”

Penelope led them in drinking; it was a sipping concoction, Elizabet and Dragan realized, from watching Penelope drink hers. They weren’t used to whiskey, it not being particularly popular in the Duchy of the Oriente, but they enjoyed it all the same. After a few sips were imbibed, Penelope set her drink down.

“Of course, Marcail beheaded Jan at sunrise the next morning with her family’s ancestral sword,” Penelope added. Behind her at the bar was a claymore with the plague declaring, ‘Sword of Cinead Trumbull, Northwind Hussars, Enemy of Clan Smoke Jaguar, Father of Penelope Mojdeh Trumbull.’

Dragan nearly dropped his glass, “Uh…”

Penelope waved her hand to dismiss the thought, “I think we’ll skip that tradition this year.”

Penelope took another sip; Dragan took a gulp.

“So, we’ve more or less lent you this room. People will be in and out to mix drinks, talk, dance, play music. If anyone tries playing bagpipes in the house, your guards will confiscate them, so you don’t have to do anything. But, uh, I’ve got family to punch in the face, so just drink as much as you want, and enjoy yourselves, if you can, so long as you’re in this room. Sorry, best we can do for you right now,” Penelope shrugged.

“Thank you, Captain. It’s a great deal of trust you’re putting in us, don’t think I haven’t noticed,” Dragan said.

“Well, nobody ever accused the Highlanders of being gracious winners, but nobody’s called us cruel ones, either. Enjoy the party,” Penelope told them, and left them with the open bottle of whiskey, and a piece of paper with mixed drink recipes. No sooner than Elizabet start to mix more did a pair of Trumbulls enter the room, drinks already in hand.

“Sae ye'r th' ones that Penelope pulled fae pure burnin` wrecks 'n' dragged a' th' wey 'ere, eh?” the first called out to them as they walked to the bar.

-	-	-

“Oh my god,” said Thoko. She had a glass in her hand--Garrick wasn’t sure which drink she was on--and was pointing and laughing at a group of people who’d started dancing in the middle of the grass. Conspicuously among them was Zeyal. She had only the faintest of ideas how the dance was supposed to go, but as always she wasn’t going to let that stop her; her feet stomped in rhythm to the bodhran, and her torso swayed with the wailing bagpipes, a whirling dance of her own invention. Laughing Highlanders danced up to her in friendly challenge, and she turned her own dance back at them, mirroring their moves with her own Clannish flair.

Garrick felt a hand grab his wrist.

“Come on, Garrick!” Thoko had managed to discard her empty glass somewhere, and she pulled him into the whirl of the dance, laughing and spinning Garrick around in a circle. Garrick found his feet moving in time, the pulse of the drums supplying him with steps where his knowledge of traditional dances failed him. Together, he and Thoko danced through the crowd, weaving in and out and around clumps of people.

The music ended, and the air filled with cheers, applause, and whoops of general merriment. Zeyal came over to Thoko and Garrick, gasping to breathe between fits of giggles, and put her arms around their shoulders.

Ken was watching them from the edge of the circle, holding his own glass of something or other. He shook his head as they approached. “You’re all ridiculous,” he said. “I don’t know any of you. I don’t… who are these people? I’m not with them.”

“Shut up!” giggled Thoko. “You’re smiling!” It was true; despite his mouth twisting with the effort to conceal it, there was a distinct grin on Ken’s face.

“Hey. Hey Ken.” Zeyal sniggered the way she always did when she was about to do something mischievous. “Trial of Possession!” She slipped her arms from Garrick and Thoko’s shoulders and lunged unsteadily at Ken, arms flailing as she grabbed at the drink in his hand. Ken deftly slipped aside, lifting the glass up and away from her reach, making Zeyal stumble to catch her balance. “I will have my isorla!” she declared with a mock solemnity that was immediately spoiled by her dissolving into a fit of laughter.

“I think you’ve had plenty tonight already,” Ken remarked, sipping at his drink.

“A Clan warrior never backs down,” Zeyal retorted. “I will keep drinking as long as there is booze to drink!”

“A Clan warrior also knows the value of moderation and discretion…” Garrick sighed. “...is what I would say if there was any chance you’d listen to me. But since you haven’t listened to me the last hundred times I said it either…”

“I can do moderation!” said Zeyal. She jabbed a single finger into Garrick’s chest. “I am a master of moderation. I’m so good at moderation, I even do moderation in moderation!”

“Can’t argue with that,” said Garrick. In one smooth motion, he caught Zeyal’s wrist and forearm, pivoted, and pulled, levering her over so that she flipped forward, curled, and unrolled to land flat on her back. “Especially since you let your guard down while you said it.”

“Oh, you sneaky surat!” Zeyal closed her grip on Garrick’s arm and tugged; he stumbled forward but managed to keep his footing. “Thoko, assist!”

A battle cry came from Garrick’s left, and Thoko made a diving tackle for Garrick’s legs, knocking them out from under him. The two of them landed on the ground in a heap next to Zeyal.

“Double-teaming is cheating!” Garrick protested.

“You say cheating, I say tactics!” crowed Zeyal. “Come on, Thoko, let’s get him!” A brief wrestling match ensued as Garrick did his best to fend off his two lancemates, only coming to a stop as the three of them lapsed into helpless laughter.

Ken, who had been watching the proceedings with quiet amusement, walked over to them and planted his foot lightly on the top of the pile (which also happened to be on Garrick’s back). “As the last one left standing,” he said, “I hereby declare myself the victor.”

“You weren’t in the fight, you walnut!” said Thoko.

“That is a form of victory in and of itself,” Ken said solemnly.

-	-	-

Celebration and fun were something that Saki rarely ever got a chance to have, even if she chose to do those things. As the head of an entire unit’s complete infrastructure, there was very little downtime allowed and she often had to force herself to take breaks and days off to enjoy her life. Saki never really indulged in the labors of her passion and loyalty. 

Tonight, though, was different and strange. She had cleared her schedule for a week, spent time meditating, cleaning her home, her life, and giving herself a completely cleansed attitude prior to the day. She had showed up, dressed in completely casual attire, a notion that was extremely unusual for her. The woman always dressed up in some form of formal attire even in generally casual settings.

Kearny’s Day on that year was the perfect time to let go with so many positive events occurring and their personal lives in much better condition. Saki stood around the craziness of the exterior/outdoor activities, drinking a very large glass of cold, sweet, sake, with a delightful buzz as she witnessed the festivities in great joy. Barely two words were spoken by the Leftenant during the course of the evening simply because she was reveling in the energy of the people around her.

A young woman approached Saki, dressed in a lovely colorful summer dress that seemed to shift in the light between tones of colors, as if she were made of a living rainbow. A pair of 4” stiletto heels made of real leather and toned in a bright white clicked as she walked while a mist of floral perfume accentuated her curves and youthful excellence. She stopped just behind Saki with a gentle smile on her face, “It is a beautiful sight, isn’t it, Miss Urufu?”

Saki turned to the girl, Catalina Reina Orellana, one of her executive staff who helped with more than just administration duties within all the many departments that Urufu had purview over, and gave a grin, “Ah, good evening Catalina-chan. You look quite lovely tonight. Enjoying the passionate festivities?”

Reina nodded, “Si, Ms. Urufu. After everything that they’ve been through, it’s joyful to see them so happy and calm, but we still have a long road to go through before we will be in the right place to truly know our place in the galaxy.”

Indeed, the girl’s words were poignant and relevant. The unit had a long place to climb to get back into a financial positive, to make a real name for itself, and to protect itself from the many dangers out there in the world. Eden’s Guard had an intent, a purpose, a cause, to bring about the best aspects of the Star League, while remembering that war… war never changes. The Clan had taught Saki to question everything, to stand for what they believed in, but remember, that everything had a reason and that honour, above all, meant everything. It kept her focused, appreciative, and humble, but it was the very members of this diverse unit that made Wolf believe fully in it. She had never felt such pride and hope with anyone and she couldn’t imagine her life anymore without them.

“Hai, Catalina-chan. It is. We will find a way to forge through anguish and adversity to begin our new universe… but enough of the future. How are you?” Saki fully turned her womanly visage to Orellana.

“I am… ¿Cómo se dice? Fine at the moment.” a clear sight of her facial expression would tell an observant individual that something bothered the executive assistant. Saki was aware of her home issues with her parents and their pressure upon the girl to find a good partner to marry. Catalina wasn’t a Clan member, so their consummation without genetic manipulation sometimes confused Saki, but she agreed with it. Despite her youth, her parents believed that Catalina should already be married and already on her way to be pregnant, but Catalina was a career woman; intent on becoming an officer and performing great deeds for the unit.

“Do not expect me for a fool Catalina-chan. You know that I will always be here for you. I am mindful of your current problems. This is not the place for them. This is a place to be happy, to reverie, to inspire you. Come. Let us mingle and forget our woes and doom for the evening.” She gestured towards the crowd nearby of many of the unit seeming to forgetting their own problems in celebration of the local holiday and their recent contract successes.

Captain Penelope “Dime” Trumbull
Commanding Officer, Eden’s Guard Security & Logistics Corporation
Lance Leader, Apple Lance
KIM-3C Komodo

And

Leftenant Garrick “Canis” Wolf
Executive Officer, Eden’s Guard Security & Logistics Corporation
Lance Leader, Wolf Lance
SHD-5D Shadow Hawk 

And

Leftenant Saki Noa "Wolf's Rain" Urufu
Chief Technical Officer, Eden's Guard Security & Logistics Corporation
Medical, Engineering, and Relief Operations
Logistical Commander


Briefing: Penelope, Garrick, and Saki

12/05/3098 13:00
Northwind Military Academy
Tara, New Lanark, Northwind
Northwind System, Northwind Protectorate, Chaos March

“Okay, everyone, I trust this is a bit more comfortable than the conference room on the Dyrnwyn?” Penelope opened. The unit’s core Staff-commanders of Lances, units, essential operations, or other highly important roles, were assembled. Normally, the initial briefing was kept to the most critical staff with some of the more secretive information, and then spread outward as people gave briefings to their teams, but Penelope had managed to snag use of the auditorium, and she wasn’t going to let the opportunity slip by her.

The fact that, more or less, everyone had a pint of beer along with more legroom and seats enough for everyone meant that her command elicited a few cheers. 

“Good, glad I’ve got everyone in high spirits, because I’m about to lift them even higher and let go to watch them go ‘splat’. But first,” Penelope said, and she pushed a button on her podium. The projector showed an MRBC contract in all its glory, signed with Penelope’s sloppy and illegible signature. Penelope raised her hands in celebration, “We have a new contract! Woo hoo!”

There was another round of cheers and drinking of beer. Garrick, for his part, had foregone any alcohol, but he smiled at the surrounding merriment.

“Now, we’ve had a few expansions lately, mostly in out combat capabilities. In particular, I want to give a shout-out to the 57th Combat Engineering Company, the Devils’ Own, who were recommended to us by Field Marshal Ravenna Black, of the Black Wolf Rangers, and gave us an extra boost on Ohrensen when we needed more engineers the most. They lost a good portion of their unit, but we’ve accepted them in to put their talents to good use. The Dirty Feet and the Devils’ Own are already getting on, and together they’re the 57th Dirty Devils now. Let’s give them a hand.”

There was a round of brief applause, cheers, and more beer-drinking as First Lieutenant Mason Brightman, the commander of the Combat Engineering company, stood and bowed. Lt. Brightman grabbed the hand of Lt. Shaquita Berg, the previous commander of the Dirty Feet, and she rose to her feet to bow with him. Garrick joined in the applause, mentally noting Brightman’s face; he had little doubt they’d be working together in the future.

“So anyway, this is going to be a much more combat-focused contract than we may be used to. That’s not to say that the Redhearts and Dirty Devils are going to be wanting for stuff to do. Someone’s got to clean up after our messes over in the ‘Mech Lances, after all,” Penelope said, and the cheers and drinking repeated.

“As the story goes, our dear old friends over at ComStar have been fighting alongside the Dracs against the Freeworlders, and all of them took a beating. The ComGuard did the smart thing, and retreated. The Dracs didn’t bother with that part, and got themselves slaughtered, and they all died for their country to a man.”

There were a few, quiet laughs; the Dracs weren’t popular in the Eden’s Guard, with many of them having spent their Star League careers fighting them. They couldn’t be caught, though, as the Eden’s Guard had non-discrimination policies about that sort of thing. Penelope evidently still managed to hone in on the offenders, and shot them an angry look. That section of the auditorium turned completely silent. Garrick shot them a look of his own for good measure; it was good to be seen backing up the Captain on this. Besides, one of his people was from the Combine. Technically.

“The Eighty Third ComGuard-we knew them back in the day as the White Cyclones-”

“Wooo!” someone shouted.

“-was left to pull back and lick its wounds but Captain-General Agatha’s primary sin is greed, and the Freeworlders have pursued them to the ComGuard’s place of rest. Said place is a Lyran world with many of us SLDF veterans are familiar.”

“WHAT?” Lft. Hurley shouted, making Garrick blink.

“There are a lot of civilians and plenty of infrastructure to worry about.”

“No way!” came another shout. Garrick looked around in slight bewilderment.

“We may be tempted to indulge in some of the local recreations, but it will only get in the way, so please pay extra attention to maintain discipline.”

“You’ve got to be kidding me!”

“As some of you have guessed-”

“AUGH!”

“-we’re going back to La Blon-”

“Noooo!”

“-to reinforce the 83rd ComGuard.”

No two people seemed to have the exact same reaction, especially among the Star League veterans. Mostly there were groans. Some burst into laughter. Others burst into tears. Some did all three. Hurley leaped out of his seat, and started to pace and curse up a storm. Garrick watched the entire proceeding with a blank look of befuddlement. Clearly the old guard had some… history with this particular world. He started to raise his hand, but the Captain was already answering his question.

“For those not familiar with La Blon, it’s a Lyran resort world. Lots of tropical paradise, jungles, and casinos all over. It makes a lot of money, and is a favorite destination spot for people of all sorts all over the Inner Sphere. During the Fifth Succession War, the Draconis Combine decided that they liked playing cards after all, and they invaded it.”

“FIVE TIMES!” Hurley screamed.

“Five times,” Penelope confirmed, “And it was the Fifth Army-”

“EVERY TIME!”

“-From which most of us served-”

“Can’t keep ‘em off!”

“-that intervened. FInally, the Dracs took it, and the Lyrans took it back, and now the Free Worlds League is throwing their dice into the game. So it lays to us-once again-to rescue La Blon from a foreign invader,” Penelope announced, “We’re to defend La Blon and the 83rd while they integrate and train their reinforcements, without causing damage to the locals. We’ll also be working with the local Militia, which will be a nice change of pace after Ohrensen.”

“God damn La Blon!” Lft. Hurley kicked an empty chair.

“I know, right?” Penelope laughed.

Well, that explained it. Garrick blew out a faintly amused sigh.

One of the more, one of the few, silent members of the primary command staff, Leftenant Saki ‘Wolf’s Rain’ Urufu sat at the table without beer and observed the various members. She was known for only speaking when necessary and only offering opinion when it seemed relevant. Part of her own self-training was the understanding of title, rank, and experience. She preferred to let the military members of the command staff speak first, knowing that a large portion of their work was military-based and thus, didn’t require her scientific and technical expertise or command structure.

It was obvious that many members of the unit disliked the current planet and the idea that they had to, once again for quite a few times in the past, liberate and protect La Blon. While she had very little personal experience with that specific planet, she had done her research into the location as part of her preparation for the contract. She silently stood up and nodded to Penelope, “Trumbull-sama.”

This acknowledged a transition from Penelope to herself as appropriate to her culture and she began, “Much to the dismay of the rest of you, this is a contract that will be lucrative and beneficial to our business and family. The planet is often inhabited by many tourists and so civilian population is quite high here.”

She paused a moment to let it sink in, “We must be careful of our words and our actions while on this planet. Such a high-profile contract means that… hmm… ‘people’ will be watching us closely and this could determine a certain… situation for us.”

Her tone took a more concerted effort, a more serious and focused tone, “The Mechs will be able to handle the heat and humidity of this planet, but keep a careful eye upon your heating metrics, particularly the Clan OmniMechs. Some of you, I don’t need to give a speech on how Clan OmniMechs work, but for those who don’t yet, they tend to…”

She gave a concerned whimper, “...attract heat because they are such powerful machines. My teams will be working quite long and hard hours to maintain your Mechs in between sorties, but we can only do so much, so keep an eye on that heat. The Dirty Devils of Brightman-san and Berg-san are more than capable individuals and I expect you all to trust their judgment during this contract.”

Those strong Japanese-European eyes with a reflective and ancient metallic tone scanned over all the faces and eyes at the table before she spoke, “Despite what you all feel or have experienced upon this planet, we are professionals and we are being paid to do this job, just as much as it will benefit us in other ways.”

Saki continued with an expression of pride and a more relaxed body posture, “My various teams and companies have been working very hard since Ohrensen to properly upgrade, update, repair, and maintain all of our vehicles, power armor, infantry tech, and Mechs within the means of our finances and I believe, wholeheartedly, that whatever this contract brings… you will be ready for anything. Arigato, my friends and… may honour be with us.”

She bowed deeply to all of them and returned to her seat in silent observation. Garrick smiled and gave her a slight nod as she sat. That was the Saki he knew, all right--she’d given similar speeches to him and Zeyal many times, back in their Clan days.

Speaking of which, the three of them were going to have to catch up soon.

Captain Penelope “Dime” Trumbull
Commanding Officer, Eden’s Guard Security & Logistics Corporation
Lance Leader, Apple Lance
KIM-3C Komodo

And

Leftenant Garrick “Canis” Wolf
Executive Officer, Eden’s Guard Security & Logistics Corporation
Lance Leader, Wolf Lance
SHD-5D Shadow Hawk 

And

Leftenant Saki Noa "Wolf's Rain" Urufu
Chief Technical Officer, Eden's Guard Security & Logistics Corporation
Medical, Engineering, and Relief Operations
Logistical Commander


12/7/3097 13:15
Eden’s Guard Mech Bay
Dropship Dyrnwyn
Northwind System, Northwind Protectorate, Chaos March

“And here it is,” Garrick said to Ken. “Have a look at it.”

The Mech Bay was currently occupied with a Jenner JR7-D. Formerly belonging to the 422nd company of the Free Worlds League’s 4th Oriente Hussars, the Mech had been scraped off the battlefield after the battle on Ohrensen, repaired, refurbished, and repainted in the red-desert camo of the Eden’s Guard. Now it was standing in a row alongside the other Mechs of Wolf Lance--Garrick’s Shadow Hawk, Zeyal’s Quickdraw, and Thoko’s Griffin. Conspicuously absent was the Bushwacker that Ken had been piloting up to this point.

“It’s a bit of a tonnage drop,” remarked Ken, though he was eying the light Mech with some amount of evident pleasure. “You have a particular idea in mind?”

“Not a particular idea so much as general reorganization.” Garrick joined Ken in admiring the Jenner--the Eden’s Guard’s techs had done a truly admirable job getting it back in fighting shape. “Up til now, Wolf Lance has been the dedicated line-fighting lance in our company. But the Guard is expanding, and, well… it’s looking a bit like we’re headed in the ‘battalion’ direction. Given that, I wanted us to be more of a generalist lance; having a faster light Mech in our mix will add some tactical flexibility to our operations. Zeyal and Thoko--”

“--are already in Mechs that play to their strengths as pilots,” finished Ken. “You don’t need to hold my hand, Lead. I get it, and I wasn’t married to the Bushwacker anyway.”

Garrick smiled softly. “Sorry.”

Ken waved the apology away. “It’s a good choice for a light Mech, anyway,” he said. “Should be able to get up to a good speed, and with the four medium lasers and the SRM rack, it’ll pack a good punch for its size. Once I’ve gotten used to piloting it, I’ll be fine…” He trailed off, gazing at the Mech in question.”

“Ken?”

Ken shook his head. “Sorry, Lead. It’s nothing.”

Garrick quirked an eyebrow at him. “Well, neither of us has anything terribly pressing to do, so why don’t you tell me anyway?”

“Really, it’s nothing.” Ken sighed. “I mean, you probably wouldn’t think of it since you’re a Clanner. The Jenner just has a rep for being a favorite of the DCMS.”

“The Draconis Combine?” A thought clicked in Garrick’s head. “Ah. Does that bother you?”

“No, no no,” said Ken. “A Mech’s a Mech, and having a random grab-bag of Mechs is pretty standard for a merc company. It just makes me feel a little…” He searched for the right word.

“Weird?” suggested Garrick.

“What’s the opposite of ‘nostalgia’?” asked Ken.

Garrick grinned at him. “Fair enough. Well, as you say, you’re going to need to get used to piloting it, so I’m going to have our lance run some basic combat drills before the La Blon contract gets off the ground. Hopefully by the time you’ve been through several hours of drudgery in the pilot’s seat, it’ll feel less like a Combine Mech and more like… well, just your Mech.”

“Hm,” said Ken mildly, returning his gaze to the Jenner.

Leftenant Garrick “Canis” Wolf
Executive Officer, Eden’s Guard Security & Logistics Corporation
Lance Leader, Wolf Lance
SHD-5D Shadow Hawk 


Future Consideration: Caitir

12/07/3098 14:45
Trumbull Estate
Crieff, New Lanark, Northwind
Northwind System, Northwind Protectorate, Chaos March

Caitir and Kent stood in the kitchen, their hands completely covered in dough they were kneading, singing an old folk song together, not quite in chorus:

“Adieu, Dundee, from Mary parted,
Here nae mair my lot may be.
Wha can bear when broken hearted, 
Scenes that peak o' joys gone by.
A' things ance were sweet and smiling
In the light o' Mary's e'e,
Fairest seemings maist beguiling
Love, adieu! adieu, Dundee.

Like yon water softly gliding,
When the wind are laid to sleep
Such my life, when I confiding
Gave to her my heart to keep.
Like yon water widly rushing
When the northwind stirs the sea,
Such the change my heart now crushing,
Love, adier! adieu, Dundee.”

The song was just long enough for them to give the dough a proper kneading after a pair of refrains, and they put their loaves into the breadpans, and slid it down the counter to join the pair of loaves already kneaded and ready to rise before being slid into the oven.

“Let’s do something in the Old Language. Give me a challenge,” Caitir insisted.

“Oh, I wanted to do 500 Miles. Tell me ye know that one?” Kent asked. Caitir rolled her eyes.

“I sing 500 Miles to the babes when I’m putting them to sleep.”

“Good, it’s essential ye know the fundamental ancient classics. Something in the old language? Hmm. If ye don’t mind, Caitir, I had a question for ye that may be hard for ye to answer,” Kent said.

“If it’s ‘Am I using protection,’ I haven’t got a partner yet. I only went on a couple dates on Ohrensen!” Caitir huffed as she started prepping more dough.

“Blast that wife of mine, she’s oughtn't be harrying ye like that, we all know ye’r a smart girl, Caitir.”

“Not Nan! Da!” she harrumphed, dropping a loaf into the bowl.

“Randall! He don’t trust ye after ye’ve been workin’ in his ‘Mech bay fer the six months on Ohrensen? That’s a mangled fud!” Kent growled.

“Naw, only since we got into Northwind. He got it into his head that I’ve been fancyin’ some lad here since the party, and he’s off his heid about it,” she explained.

“Still, that’s bein’ a bowfin. But, that’s nae whit I wanted to talk about. I was curious what ye were thinking about fer the future. Are ye going to pick a spot fer yerself in the Eden’s Guard?”

Caitir sighed as she punished the dough for its insolence, and she was silent for a few moments.

“I don’t know. I know I’m good at it, as an Engineer and as a Mechwarrior. I could do it, you know.”

“I believe ye.”

“But it just seems so obvious, like it’s the easy answer. Like I haven’t tried looking for anything else, and I won’t know. I haven’t been thinking about it, truth be told, because I don’t know what I want to try,” she admitted.

“You’ve spent yer whole life travelling the stars, spending as much time in the Dropships as ye have on-planet since ye were old enough to go to school. Ye’ve seen more in ten years than most see in a lifetime, that’s no small feat, Caitir,” Kent said.

“So I should stick with the unit?” she asked in a weak tone. She decided to show mercy on the bread and slid it down the counter, and prepared another for its penance.

“Naw, I’m sayin’ ye should be proud, and know that it’s an asset for ye, no matter what ye choose to do,” Kent shook his head, also setting his loaf aside and picking another, “I think you should reflect on it a bit, is all. Ye’ve only got a few days before headed out to make a choice, from what I can see. Ye’re at an awkward time, a sort of crossroads: Do ye join a military? Get a job? Go to school? It’s a lot to ask of a child to choose, but it’s starting to be asked.”

Caitir looked at him, “You think I should consider leaving?”

“Just think of what else ye could do,” he said, “It’s an opportunity to be had, is what. I don’t want ye to miss it while it’s here.”

“What do you think?”

“Ye should think about it.”

“I don’t know what I think, that’s why I’m asking you.”

Kent laughed, and nodded in concession, “Fair enough. I think ye should go to university. Any in the Inner Sphere would take ye, even in the ConMag, I think. With yer experience and grades. Ye’d have plenty of choices. But I want to keep ye close, and see more of ye. And there’s...Tradition to consider, tradition yer mother skipped on to take on the Cameron Star.”

“You want me to go to the Northwind Academy!” Caitir accused.

“It doesn’t have all the best toys and it doesn’t have every latest academic breakthrough, but it’s still a top-of-the-line university, and it makes the best damn pilots in the Galaxy, make no mistake!” Kent huffed. Caitir gave a laugh, and concentrated on her bread for a bit.

“I don’t think I’m going to back out of going to La Blon for it,” Caitir said.

Kent’s eyes went so wide they nearly popped out of his head, “La Blon! Ye’re headed back to that blasted place?!”

“Once again into the beach,” she confirmed.

“Damn that place, it’s popular, innit!”

“Yeah, Marik wants it this time.”

“I bet the Lyrans are loused of La Blon, it’s swapped enough times!”

“Yeah, well, it’s up to us to save it again.”

“Well, if ye’r not keen on headed back, we’d all understand.”

“No, it’s fine. Call it sunk cost, we’re invested. Besides, I was, what, six when I went to La Blon the first time? I’ve really only heard stories. Anyway. Point is, I’m still going. But if the Academy wants a couple semesters to mull over my application, I’ll put it in. I think it might be nice to stand still again, at least for a bit,” Caitir said. Kent grinned.

“Well, when ye’r ready, there’s always a room for ye here.”

“I should hope so, it’s my mother’s house.”

“Now listen 'ere, lassie, tis her cousins tae, mah sons!”

“Doesn’t mean it's nae juist as muckle mines.”

“Ye gallus lassie, it wull be the day the rest o' us ur panbread.”

“Nae mah ma, she'll outlive us a' juist sae she kin say she won.”

Cadet Caitir Trumbull
Junior Technician & Mechwarrior Cadet
Eden’s Guard Security & Logistics Corporation
Assistant Mechtech, Apple Lance


12/20/3097 14:45
Dropship Dyrnwyn
En route to Jump Point
Northwind System, Northwind Protectorate, Chaos March

“Saki!” Zeyal rushed across the floor of the engineering bay, narrowly avoiding collisions with several technicians who managed to stop just in time as she went past. She stopped just short of the other woman, grinning and practically quivering with excitement; Garrick knew that it was only her respect for Saki’s more reserved nature that had held her back from greeting Saki with a tackling hug. Smiling slightly to himself, he jogged over to where his sib and their old friend were standing together.

“You’re finally coming with us!” Zeyal was saying as he arrived. “I’m so glad we don’t have to leave you behind on that boring old dustball again.”

Ever since the latest contract came down the wire to the varied, diverse, and many departments under the purview of Leftenant Urufu, she had been extremely hard at work preparing the entire unit’s vehicles, Mechs, gear, tech, and personnel, not to mention their finances, for the upcoming contract, knowing it would be an intense one. Perhaps more intense than the Ohrensen campaign. It would also be her first real in-field campaign that didn’t involve a subspace communication between the main vessels and her teams on the surface.

Even as she completed many tasks quickly and efficiently, in time for the contract’s start at the end of January, there were times she wished that she had more downtime to simply enjoy the fact that all her hard work has made Eden’s Guard an even better unit and, most importantly, a much better business in the long run. Saki felt it necessary to constantly prove to Garrick and Penelope that their faith in her was well placed and well earned, so she never stopped if she could do something to continue proving that faith.

Today, Saki was overseeing the upgrade of one of the OmniMechs in the primary lances of the unit, the ones that would be heading out to directly affect the contract when she heard a familiar squeal of excitement come from far off in the engineering bay of the Dyrnwyn across the dozens of teams hard at work fixing and upgrading the lance mechs. The very air was heavy with the immense, but exciting, task of millions of moving parts: soldering delicate electronics, the intense drilling of holes and various metal shaving on body parts, the squishing noises of fuels and other elements of liquids that are used in the maintenance and construction of Mechs, as well as the laughter and shouts of the men and women who work very hard for her. She reveled in the smells, sounds, and sights of the engineering bay more than she did the tablets and interactive holographic projections of finances, personnel management, and grading essays on the astrophysics of JumpShips.

The field was energetic, intense, ravenous even, in its depiction of humanity in its most raw form and while she would never be the MechWarrior that many others in Eden’s Guard undoubtedly were, she was not terrible and often found solace and thought in just sitting in the cockpit of a Mech, watching a sunrise in the early morning hours when everyone else was still sleeping. Saki felt it was like ancient tradition in the modern world of a warrior preparing their soul for the day’s events and the future of, potential of, death at the hands of an honourable and unforgiving enemy.

No matter what it was that kept her there, today was not that day. Instead, here she came, practically running her engineers over as she maneuvered with deftness and speed to nearly collide with Saki in joyful reverie. A grin crept across her sweet face as Saki enjoyed the ceasing of such excitement to allow Saki a moment to understand the situation and respond in kind. She stepped up and gave Zeyal a deep hug, caressing the girl’s hair softly before releasing her, “I am glad to see you Zeyal-chan. Heh, she certainly is still spunky isn’t she Garrick-san?”

Saki gave Garrick a respectful kiss on the cheek and a hug as well, “Yes, Zeyal-chan. I am finally coming with you in the field ever since I joined Eden’s Guard. It will be quite epic indeed. I relish the chance to prove myself in the field to Penelope-sama. You know how much her approval means to me Garrick-san.”

Zeyal laughed and shook her head. “Saki, I’ve told you a million times that just ‘Zeyal’ is fine. There’s no need to hang on to those archaic cultural relics.”

“Those ‘archaic cultural relics’ are from a culture that’s still alive and well here in the Inner Sphere, Zeyal,” Garrick pointed out.

Zeyal blinked. “But Saki’s not from the Inner Sphere. She’s one of us.”

Garrick sighed in defeat, giving Saki a long-suffering look with his eyebrows raised. “She still doesn’t quite get it,” he said. “You’re right, though--spunky as ever.”

Saki turns to Zeyal and gives the young girl a happy grin, “Enough of that. I could use a break from all this… hmm… lunacy. Come. Let us relax and converse.” She indicated towards her personal little central office in the center of the engineering bay, made to look like a tranquil Japanese garden made of super-cyberpunk metals, lights, and all manners of cyberpunk design. She took a seat in the chair of her desk: the desk was long, oblong, strangely curved (almost S-shaped) design made of pure carbon titanium fibers enriched by accent lines of pure AMOLED casings in brilliant and vibrant colors of the visible light EM spectrum.

The chair itself was significantly more spartan and mundane in comparison, but clearly inspired by the same mixture of ancient traditional Japanese and modern cyberpunk aesthetics. It was a deeply functional chair, embedded with advanced holographic and a massive computer core built into it. She redesigned the main engineer’s chair when she became Chief Technical Officer and allowed her subordinate officers to use it when she couldn’t be in the bay. Besides the main chair and desk, there were tree-like creations surrounding the desk as though cherry blossom trees had sprouted from the deck beneath them like a living plant that somehow magically grew out of the ground. The leaves of the tree and the petals of the flowers were also made of the same AMOLED casings, brightly shining against the relative darkness and subdued lighting of the engineering bay.

She offered them comfortable seats in front of the desk and gave a smirk, “So… what have you been up to, my dear friends?”

“Life of a warrior,” Zeyal replied with a crooked grin. “We go to exciting new planets, see exciting new places, and blow them all up.”

“Or build them up,” added Garrick, rolling his eyes slightly. “Ohrensen was about 99.9% construction work, or did you forget all those long hours we spent on security detail for the road crews.”

“I’ve tried to erase them from my mind. They were so boring.”

“Well, I can’t argue with you there.” Garrick smiled at Saki. “What about you, Saki? How did Northwind agree with you? I hear that you’re the one responsible for getting our lance of Clan Mechs up and running properly--and thank you for that, they were the decisive advantage that we needed for the final battle on Ohrensen.”

A witness, perchance, of all that came before and would come forward in their unknown future, Saki felt empowered by their hearty expression of the past. Every moment spent not working, in that moment, seemed to bring a breath of fresh air that, while much needed, felt a bit strange in the knowledge that she continued to work alongside fellow Clan members. In such good company did Saki forever feel so gracious and poised. Their tales, while simple and straightforward, spoke volumes upon their adventures that she had relished in the opportunity to experience.

A gentle nod from her as they spoke was all that was needed before she finally answered them on their inquiries, “Northwind has been an… intriguing experience to say the least. I have come to find myself familiar by the people both in our own unit and the friends of this unit.”

An expression of contemplation crossed her lovely round face, accentuated by that strange mixture of Japanese and Romanian descent. Large eyes, yet tight and slender upon her brow; wide and voluptuous mouth tinted by a soft pink; rosy cheeks against a deeply pale tone; flowing locks of deepened yet bright silvery purple hair framed and softened her face; potently metallic eyes glistening of bronze. Those features so clear and concise in the exactitude of her desire to remain orderly and professional, even in comfortable settings. Usually, the hair was pulled up into an ancient traditional Japanese bun, but the work was too important that day to focus on her appearance as much as she’d have preferred.

“I am quite content with myself and my surroundings, my friends. I often find myself at peace, peace through adversity and triumph over darkness.” a happy smirk crawled across her lips before she continued to speak, “Hai, you are most welcome Garrick-san, Zeyal-chan. I knew that I needed to yield the wondrous toys of the Clans to my most trusted of companions. I can think of no one better equipped outside of the Clans to handle my beautiful beasts of chaos and war.”

“As for that, how goes our next contract? I hear we travel towards La Blon for our next encounter? Should prove fruitful and interesting, provided no unforeseen events occur, naturally.”

As they spoke, a mere 100 metres across the seeming vastness of the engineering bay of the Dyrnwyn, a huge OmniMech stood in the background, towering some 20 metres above the dirtied surface beneath; strewn and coated in the trappings, smells, and workings of hard labor by skilled men and women with a great purpose. The Griffin IIC, a formidable Medium OmniMech, soared to extreme heights, despite being a lighter weight class, from the remainder of the mechs, save for the Thanatos and the Highlander IIC3 nearby. Hoisted to the ramparts of its own bay, the Griffin seemed to loom over them, casting a massive shadow as though darkness intended on consuming them all.

“I always assume that unforeseen events are going to occur,” replied Garrick. “The last time it seemed like everything was going according to plan, somebody blew up a planetary governor.” He followed Saki’s gaze, taking in the sight of the OmniMechs at the other end of the engineering bay. They were IIC variants, Clan reiterations of old Star League designs that were still in use in the Inner Sphere today, rather than original Clan designs. In that sense, they were a meeting point between the Clans and the Inner Sphere. Not entirely unlike himself, Zeyal, and Saki, he thought, wondering at the idea even as he had it. All this downtime was putting him in an introspective mood.

Zeyal was leaning forward on her elbows, giving an insolent grin in Saki’s direction. “Well, I’m looking forward to having a post that’s more than 99% garrison duty,” she said. “Don’t worry, Saki, we’ll be sure to go and get our Mechs good and smashed up. That way you’ll have plenty to do and you won’t be bored.”

The tasks for the future would be numerous and involve complex strategies to forge the proper result that the company desired. It left a bad taste in Saki’s mouth, though, that they needed some jobs just to get a foothold in certain aspects of the business. The idea that her friends would be going into a battle fierce and poised to push their limits only made her uneasy senses wreak with more concern. She showed no outward sign of this worry or strife and gave them both a wide grin.

“I am certain that the task shall prove fruitful and test all of our mettle, my dear Garrick-san.” a nod from her pristinely symmetrical expression seemed to beguile the truth. She gazed back directly at Zeyal’s consternation and child-like mode of thought, “It may, but I do not wish any form of harm to come to you my dear Zeyal-chan. To lose either of you, or any in the company, would be tantamount to doom.”

She gave a final, but clearly motherly, expression, “Take care of yourselves. The campaign will be fraught with great danger and peril. The leaves in a brusque wind do not idly fall.”

Leftenant Garrick “Canis” Wolf
Executive Officer, Eden’s Guard Security & Logistics Corporation
Lance Leader, Wolf Lance
SHD-5D Shadow Hawk

and

Leftenant Saki Noa "Wolf's Rain" Urufu
Chief Technical Officer, Eden's Guard Security & Logistics Corporation
Medical, Engineering, and Relief Operations
Logistical Commander


12/29/3097 14:45
Eden’s Guard Command Center, Dropship Dyrnwyn
Outreach Jump Point
Outreach System, Chaos March

Garrick stood on the Dyrnwyn’s bridge with the Captain and tried not to look too nauseous. The unit’s trip to Outreach was a simple in-and-out pickup and had been carefully scheduled to be as fast as possible; their Dropships were going to leaving the Jumpship that had carried them here and attaching to another outbound one that was already nearly charged and ready to go. Thanks to the arrangements that the Captain had made with the MRBC, there was going to be just enough time to take on their new equipment before the transfer and jump.

All of this added up to Garrick being required on deck before he’d had the chance to shake off the jump sickness from their inbound jump. He clenched his jaw and tried to give off the impression that he had weightier things on his mind than the urge to vomit.

“This is the MDSV Orna to the MDSV Dyrnwyn,” an Australian-accented voice declared, “Along with the MDSV Lighter Fluid and Yes Sir, That’s My Baby. We’re requesting permission to link up with the Jumpship and begin exchanging cargo, personnel, and manifests.”

“Copy that. Receiving manifest now.” Garrick pulled the transmission up on his console and scanned it quickly, then scanned it again to make sure he was reading right. He looked up at the Captain with a significant expression; when she’d said they were going to be expanding, he hadn’t realized that she meant this much. 

The Orna was their Dropship, bought at a discount with an arrangement with the Black Wolf Rangers. However, even with the two Dropships, that still wasn’t enough to haul everything to La Blon, and so they’d rented two more to haul the rest. The Lighter Fluid was a second Union-Class, and the Yes, Sir was a Condor-class, meant to haul the considerable infantry assets they’d started to build up.

“Good to hear your voice again, Oralia. Been way too long,” Penelope broadcast back. Penelope brought up a copy of the manifest, and scowled when she read it over.

“Lighter Fluid, I’ve got the cargo manifests with me, and I’m seeing a discrepancy. What’s your count on the number of Thumper Gun Cannon trailers?”

“We just have the one, Major. Was there supposed to be more?” they replied.

“Son of a bitch! They screwed up our order again!” Penelope growled, “My whole Company’s strategy is based on having artillery support, and a third of it didn’t show up. We really don’t have time to wait for them to correct the order, either…And they took the whole payment! Ugh, I hate the Brokerage as much as I adore them.”

Garrick knew that this was supposed to be his cue to say something like Well, that’s the Brokerage for you or It’s a pisser, ain’t it? or any of the other flippant-yet-supportive comments a second-in-command was supposed to offer. However, he was still too distracted by what he had seen on the manifest. “This is some serious hardware, Captain,” he said quietly as he moved over to stand next to her. “I don’t think we should be advertising as a ‘company’ if we have this much under our belt. We’re easily twice that size now, if not more.”

“The MRBC classifies units based on their collective firepower,” Penelope flipped through the messages and manifests, and showed the pad to Garrick. It had the MRBC emblem on it, and when he read it, it had a very clear declaration on it: The Eden’s Guard was now classified as a Battalion.

“This means a lot of people are getting promoted. So, congratulations, Captain Wolf. I figured we’d have time to sort out what goes where during the flight to La Blon,” Penelope told him, slapping him on the shoulder, before looking to a com officer, “Ensign, would you let the Quartermaster know we didn’t receive our gun trailers?”

“Captain Wolf?” Garrick said to himself. As long as he’d been with Eden’s Guard, Penelope had always been ‘the Captain.’ (Now he supposed she’d be ‘the Major.’) He’d never given much thought to reaching that rank himself. The implications were staggering--it wouldn’t just be him and his lance, anymore; he’d be commanding an entire company.

This was going to change everything.

Again.

“Er, excuse me sir?” Garrick shook himself; one of the com officers was trying to get his attention. “Can I get your authorization on these requests they’re sending us?”

“Of course. Let me have a look.” There would be time to come to grips with everything afterward. For now, they had work to do.

“Get me the Brokerage on the horn! I want to know if we’re going to have artillery support when we get to La Blon!” Major Trumbull ordered.

Captain Garrick “Canis” Wolf
Executive Officer, Eden’s Guard Security & Logistics Corporation
Lance Leader, Wolf Lance
SHD-5D Shadow Hawk

And

Major Penelope “Dime” Trumbull
Commanding Officer, Eden’s Guard Security & Logistics Corporation
Lance Leader, Apple Lance
KIM-3C Komodo


1/1/3098 07:45
Dropship Dyrnwyn
En route to Liberty
Liberty System, Liberty Holds

HAPPY NEW YEAR, read an automated message scrolling across the top of Garrick’s datapad. Bent over in his bunk, he paused a moment from the task he’d been engaged in, and leaned back to reflect. It had been New Year’s Eve when he was officially promoted to executive officer of Eden’s Guard. Now, a year and a day later, the company had become a battalion and he’d been made a Captain to match. It seemed like such a strangely short amount of time… particularly considering that all that business on Ohrensen had taken place in the interim.

“Something on your mind, Captain?” Zeyal asked from the other side of the room.

“Don’t start with that again,” Garrick sighed.

“Fine,” said Zeyal, grinning. “I guess for the holiday I can cut my favorite sib a break. Just this once, though.” She crossed the room and kissed Garrick lightly on the top of his head. “Working on organizational stuff?” she asked, nodding at his datapad.

“If by ‘organizational stuff’ you mean ‘building the entire company I’m suddenly in charge of from the ground up,’ then yes,” Garrick said. 

“What’ve you got so far?”

“Leftenant Lamb and all of his battle armor in Gardener Lance are being put under my command, for starters,” said Garrick. “In fact, I’ve basically been given all of the battle armor assets in Eden’s Guard. The Major seemed to think that I’d know what to do with it.”

“Don’t you?”

“Well, they’re not Elementals by any stretch of the imagination, but I think I can tweak some Clan doctrines to work with what we have.” Garrick pursed his lips thoughtfully. “So in addition to Gardener Lance, we have Shade Lance… hmm. I might want to rename that one. ‘Shade Lance’ just doesn’t strike me as right, somehow. Speaking of which, I need to come up with a name for my company too...”

“Why not just call it ‘Wolf Company’?”

“That seems too obvious, somehow.”

Zeyal sighed. “Well, if you want to go all fancy and Latin, you could call it ‘Lupus Company.’”

“Isn’t that a disease?”

Zeyal bopped him softly on the head. “Surat.”

Garrick laughed and waved his sib away. “Well, anyway. I’ve also got to figure out what I’m going to be doing with these two VTOL craft that I have for some reason. At least the Major didn’t stick me with the patrol boats.”

“We have patrol boats?”

“Ask the Major about them. No, actually, on second thought, never ask her about the patrol boats under any circumstances.” Garrick shook his head. “Ergh. I’m having so much trouble focusing on this. I feel like my head’s been stuffed full of cotton.”

“Did you remember to have coffee this morning?”

“You know, I imagine that would help quite a bit.” Garrick stood up. “This is why you’re my favorite sib, Zeyal.”

“I thought it was because I was so cute,” Zeyal replied, fluttering her eyelashes at him.

“Well, that certainly doesn’t hurt.”

- - -

Garrick was on his way back from successfully procuring coffee when he ran into Leftenant Lamb, coming down the hallway in the other direction. “Leftenant,” Garrick said, smiling and nodding at him.

“Sir,” said Lamb, responding with a curt nod and the wannest of smiles.

That had not been the response he’d been hoping for. Garrick continued down the hall for several steps after passing Lamb before he decided that it’d be foolish to let it pass. “Leftenant!” he said, putting a bit of an edge into his voice. Lamb started to a halt, then looked back over his shoulder. “A word, please,” Garrick continued, indicating an empty conference room nearby. Lamb hesitated, then nodded and followed Garrick in.

Inside, Garrick turned on the room’s lights, then looked back at Lamb (having to look slightly up to look him in the face; the tall, powerfully built man was an impressive 190cm to Garrick’s much more average 178). “Is there something on your mind that you have to say, Leftenant?” Garrick asked.

“No, sir,” replied Lamb with an utter lack of sincerity.

Garrick sighed. “All right,” he said. “Here’s how it’s going to go. For the remainder of this conversation you have blanket permission to speak your mind. No ‘Captain’s or ‘sir’s or any of that; speak to me as Luciano Lamb to Garrick Wolf.” He gave Lamb a hard look. “Now. Clearly you’re having some sort of issue with me, and I want to know what it is before we land on La Blon.”

Lamb was blinking rapidly, taken aback; Garrick gave him a moment to collect his wits. “I mean no disrespect, si--Garrick,” he said finally. “The sudden reorganization just took all of us by surprise.”

“Do you have a problem with being under my command?”

“You’re… a fine Mechwarrior, Garrick,” Lamb said carefully. “You lead your lance well, and your plan of attack on Ohrensen was well done.”

“But?”

Lamb shrugged. “You’re the new blood.”

Garrick ran over what he knew of Lamb’s background in his head. Of course. Lamb had not only been with Eden’s Guard longer than Garrick--he was one of the veterans, from the unit’s origins as part of the SLDF. “You have issues with taking orders from the new blood?”

“Not in the abstract--but you’re inexperienced in command, and it shows.”

That hit Garrick hard; his fingers flexed involuntarily, and he had to take a moment to bite back an angry retort. “How exactly does it show?” he asked instead.

“It’s just the way you handle your lance. You let them disrespect you, let breaches of protocol slide all the time.” Lamb lifted his chin. “Keeping your people in line is an important part of being in command.”

Garrick drew in a deep breath, blowing it out slowly through his mouth. “I do keep my people in line, Lamb,” he said. “When it counts. Our operational record speaks for itself. I know, I know, you did things differently in the SLDF,” he added, cutting off Lamb’s objection, “but by the same coin, we did things differently in the Clans. Camaraderie is important to us. My lance might be soldiers under my command, but they’re also comrades and friends, and I trust each of them with my life. If I let decorum and disrespect slide, it’s because I know that they’re going to have my back when it comes down to it.”

“You think that command style’s going to work on the company level?” asked Lamb.

“We’ll see. Maybe it won’t, and I’ll have to adjust. I don’t claim to be a perfect commander by any stretch, and I’m open to learning. But you might have a few things to learn, too.” Garrick crossed his arms. “Call me an idiot.”

“What?!”

“Right here, right now, to my face. Call me an idiot. That’s an order.”

“You said you weren’t being a Captain for this conversation,” Lamb pointed out.

“I--” Garrick frowned. “That’s actually a fair point. But call me an idiot anyway.” He looked at Lamb expectantly.

Lamb, for his part, looked more flustered than Garrick had ever known him to be. “Y-You’re an i-idiot,” he finally choked out. “Si--Garrick.”

Garrick smiled. “Now, how did that feel?”

“Incredibly awkward,” said Lamb, staring resolutely at the wall. “But also… strangely refreshing.”

“You see?” said Garrick, clapping him on the shoulder. “It has its merits. Now, if you have some time later today, I wanted to go over some things and pick your brains as to how we might best organize our company’s battle armor assets.”

“Yes, sir. Garrick. Sir.” Lamb looked visibly more relaxed; Garrick decided to count it as a win.

Captain Garrick “Canis” Wolf
Executive Officer, Eden’s Guard Security & Logistics Corporation
Lance Leader, Wolf Lance
SHD-5D Shadow Hawk 


Become Error: Penelope

1/02/3098 09:20
Eden’s Guard Dropship Dyrnwyn
Outreach Jump Point
Outreach System, Chaos March

“Oh, shit.”

“You know, you’re very lucky that wasn’t the twins’ first words,” Randall said, turning to her in his swivel chair, “What is it?”

Penelope pulled her hands away from her computer terminal, “I just realized I’d just pushed to production.”

“Like, you made a release? A new version of MercNet?”

“Yeah, and I hadn’t checked the numbers. I have automated messages set up, oh, man, what if there’s a loop? Crap, crap, crap, crap!” Penelope groaned, and she started typing furiously, her eyes darting around the computer.

“Are you absolutely sure it’s appropriate to run the Battalion off that program when it’s had these issues?” Randall asked.

“Hey, MercNet has made the reorganization possible. I don’t think we would have landed on Ohrensen without it,” Penelope insisted, “It’s a dynamic and modern piece of management software. I’m the fool that just-”

She leaned forward and squinted.

“Oh shit.”

“What?” Randall laughed.

“It just told half the technical department that they might be fired. Daaaaaamniiiiiiiit!”

Penelope started to take sharp breaths as she pounded away at her keyboard. She paused for a moment, tapping her temples as she thought and stared at the numbers and UI before her. She chewed on her thumbnail, a sure sign that something was wrong.

“I’ll go talk to Saki, let her know what’s going on,” Randall said, standing up.

“Hm? Yeah,” Penelope nodded, and Randall left the room. Penelope remained in her quarters for several hours, trying to find out what had gone wrong.

“Aw, shit!” she hissed, “Because we’re not a regiment, that’s why. Okay, you son-of-a-bitch! Let’s get people their jobs back!”

The email people had initially received went:

Dear employee of the Eden’s Guard Mercenary Command,

We regret to inform you that due to reorganization of the unit, several positions have become redundant. As such, you may expect that your role here may be terminated. It may be appropriate to begin making preparations to embark on your career outside of the Unit.

Thank you for your service to the Eden’s Guard.

Regards,

Eden’s Guard Command Staff


Penelope then sent a follow-up message:

Attention everyone: If you received a message stating you might be fired, ignore it. Nobody is getting fired. If anything, people are getting hired. Please be patient while we address the issue.

-Major Trumbull


No sooner did she send it, than there was a knock at her door. When she opened it, dozens of people were waiting for her, holding copies of the message.

“Check your emails! It was an error, nobody is getting fired!” she shouted over the crowd, “It’s just me, screwing around. Sorry everyone! Everything’s okay! It’s all fine!”

There was a few questioning murmurs, but the crowd quickly shared the news, and it dissipated. Garrick approached as they dispersed.

“So, I take it I’m not in danger of being fired?”

Penelope rolled her eyes, “I need a drink.”

Major Penelope “Dime” Trumbull
Commanding Officer, Eden’s Guard Security & Logistics Corporation
Lance Leader, Apple Lance


Old Grounds: Penelope

1/31/3098 01:40
Dyrnwyn Bridge
Dropship Dyrnwyn
La Blon, Kessel Prefecture, Draconis Combine

The jump came to an end. Those who were nauseated by it took their moment to recover; Penelope was watching all the monitors. Given the nature of the battle that had been raging in the system, she didn’t want her entire Battalion obliterated right at the jump point. Because it was a combat zone, the Jumpship wasn’t keen on sticking around, and once it was gone, that’s when the enemy would strike, if they would strike.

It was a tense arrival for the four Dropships, as they disembarked from the Jumpship, and began easing towards the planet. Reports declared that the FWLS Uther was in-system, providing support and causing hell for the ComGuard, but no pitched battles had occurred yet. If they were caught by the thing, though, the entire Eden’s Guard would be obliterated before even reaching La Blon.

Scans turned up nothing of the sort nearby, though; ambushing a Jumpship was generally considered a technological travesty. As they gained speed headed for La Blon, Penelope began to breathe easier; at these speeds, they were unlikely to be intercepted, or detected, until they approached the planet itself. The Uther did not materialize, nor an interception of any kind.

It would be days before they reached La Blon itself, but Penelope wanted to establish communications quickly, and so the Com officers prioritized establishing connection. They were given protocols along with the contract to this effect, but this avenue could be more easily compromised, and their first set of instructions were usually automated and encrypted.

Sure enough, after pinging the system comm buoys, they received a series of automated messages, which could only be unscrambled with information given to them by ComStar. They hadn’t gone through this at Ohrensen, because their employers didn’t possess that system at the time, but this exchange was common when the employer controlled the destination.

Once the communication protocols were set up, they reconnected with ComStar’s systems, and they received the latest updates. In all, the exchange took about five hours, with the radio delays and back-and-forth. Once they received the latest reports, Penelope and Maggie sat down together to take a measure of what they’d received. These initial reports were often sparse, for security reasons, and these were just so. Still, they managed to paint a picture of what was going on.

Just as the contract had stated, ComStar had fallen back to La Blon after getting particularly thrashed at Athenry by the 2nd Free World Legionnaires, which had come at the cost of their entire DCMS backup. Now down two Divisions, ComStar needed to replace their losses, but the Free Worlds League was not giving them respite; an attack on La Blon was expected.

La Blon had finally been taken after the fall of the Star League from the Lyrans, but little had changed; La Blon was used to changing hands between the Alliance and the Combine. The planet’s Militia, led by a Captain Redekker Ferris, had not opposed the takeover, rather dedicating his forces to protecting essential infrastructure from the fighting which had plagued the planet for the last couple decades, and was beloved on La Blon for forcing the fighting away from infrastructure and populations. While Penelope had met Captain Ferris, she’d never fought alongside him for this reason. This time, however, Captain Ferris was opposing the invasion, rather than maintaining his unit’s neutrality, and they had donated one of the planet’s military bases to ComStar.

The current Governor was Kotaro Sekozawa, an import sent by the Combine to administrate the planet, but Governor Kotaro was not native, and not particularly popular. He wasn’t unpopular, either; the locals didn’t seem to think of him as anything more than the Combine’s tax collector, and didn’t seem interested beyond filling that role and playing the occasional game of baccarat. The former Governor, Gregor Beatrice, was still planetside, and although officially on house arrest and retired since his being deposed by the Combine, remained a popular public leader.

The League had landed scouts on the planet, and the 4th ComGuard Navy Assault Dropship Squadron had skirmished with their Dropships and Aerospace a few times, but as of yet, their positions were unknown, and the Uther, which ComStar knew to have been deployed to La Blon through intelligence leaks in the FWLM, had yet to appear.

The 83rd Division, which consisted of elements formerly of the 5th Star League Army, were old friends of many in the Unit. Precentor Saralee Aarden had formerly been Colonel Saralee Aarden in the SLDF, in fact, and had fought alongside Osaze many times in her career. The ComGuard had been given Fort Taurus on Neefe, which they were trying to modify to fit their needs for the massive number of military assets plus proper training grounds and a makeshift spaceport.

This was where the Eden’s Guard would come in. With their Engineering Company, the Dirty Devils, they were not only capable of building the infrastructure that the ComGuard needed quickly, but they were capable of training and maintaining the new Battalions, as well. The White Cyclones would do most of the heavy lifting when it came to fighting, but defense of the base and the surrounding area was essential, and would be their general purview while the rest of the Division went to war. The 83rd expected to take extensive further casualties if the Free Worlds League decided to match them unit-for-unit, and with the deployment of the Uther, this seemed to be what the 2nd FW Legionnaires had in mind. As such, the ComGuard were not building up two Battalions to replace what they’d already lost, but four, in anticipation of further casualties. 

The La Blon Militia consisted largely of ex-mercenaries and a few Solaris jocks, and their priority was protecting the planet’s people and infrastructure. They had more ‘Mechs, vehicles, and troops than the Ohrensen Militia had, owing to their planet’s better economy and lack of corruption, and the constant warfare on La Blon had made new equipment and parts easy to come by. They could rely on their local intelligence to help find and ferret out the League scouts. With their new Aurora, the Eden’s Guard were capable of responding to threats and targets of opportunity, using a traditional Lance. This was fine; their ASF could easily keep up with the Dropship.

With this in mind, Penelope and Maggie proposed a system where Garrick’s Company, which had adequate transports for their Battle Armor, would be the ‘First Response’ group, using the Aurora and Trireme. Penelope’s Company, meanwhile, would provide constant cover for the engineers and security for the base, especially with their new artillery assets. All three Lances would assist in the drilling and teaching of the ComGuard recruits. With the preliminary strategy drawn up, Penelope and Maggie began typing up briefings for the various departments.

Major Penelope “Dime” Trumbull
Commanding Officer, Eden’s Guard Security & Logistics Corporation
Lance Leader, Apple Lance
KIM-3C Komodo


A Choice of Futures: Caitir
1/31/3098 01:40
Dyrnwyn Gym
Dropship Dyrnwyn
La Blon, Kessel Prefecture, Draconis Combine

Caitir stood in the Dyrnwyn gym, her only company being the practice dummy before her. Technically, nobody was supposed to be here after-hours, and particularly not alone. But being the Major’s daughter had its advantages. With the weighted practice sword, she moved through the forms of the Highlander Broadsword.

Since she had applied to the Northwind Academy, Caitir had been spending her time studying and drilling, perhaps too intensely, as now she struggled bringing herself to sleep with anything short of total exhaustion.

Caitir had done nothing more than apply; she wasn’t even staying on-planet to hear back. As she ran through the exercises again, she heard her own voice, in Gaelic, speak to her:


“What has you so friven?”

Caitir stared at the dummy. It had shifted after she took her eyes off it. Now, she looked upon herself, holding a real broadsword and wearing the uniform of the Northwind Highlanders.

“I just want to succeed,” she told the spectre. The Northwind version of herself grabbed the hilt with its hand, and without switching to a stance, swung its sword at her, with all the added the speed and strength of her adult form.

“Why? You hadn’t even thought of Northwind Academy until Kent spoke of it,” the Highlander demanded, pressing down on Caitir’s sword with her own, “Why adopt his dream? Where are yours?”

“What else do I do?” Caitir demanded.

“Plenty,” another Caitir said. This one was wearing an Eden’s Guard Mechtek uniform. She shrugged, “You could pick anything.”

“Or be anything,” a third announced. She held a child, obscured by a blanket, which the mother-Caitir fed with a bottle. Caitir’s knees buckled under the sword blows that the Highlander kept laying on her.

“But you’re taking someone else’s path, an easy road to pick, simply because it was pointed out to you,” the Highlander snarled. More Caitirs stepped out of the walls, each wearing a different set of clothes or uniform, too many for Caitir to identify them, except for one: Sleeveless, fit and standing tall, a hairless Caitir with the emblem of Clan Wolf on her vest stepped next to the Highlander. 

“What roads have you even thought of for yourself?” the Clanner Caitir asked, putting her hand on the Highlander's blade and pressing down on it. Caitir’s arms burned, and she could feel her muscled jellifying. 

“How do I even start?” Caitir demanded of them.

“What about what you DON’T want?” a Caitir asked from behind the Clanner and Highlander. She saw a flash of purple, and Caitir gave a gasp. Her arms gave out, and the blade cut into her face, a hot streak of blood stinging her eyes. Every Caitir in the room then shared that scar. The Clanner and Highlander let up, and Caitir fell back onto the floor. Dressed as an officer of the Free Worlds League military, this new Caitir stood above her.

“After all, there’s nothing stopping you. All paths are open to you. What must not come to pass?” the FWL Caitir asked. Similar versions of Rhona and Khalid, in adult forms, stepped out from behind their older sister. Caitir backed away from them, and scrambled to her feet.

“Why would I? How does that even make sense?” Caitir demanded. The officer shrugged.

“Terra is your homeworld, isn’t it? This war is your mother’s. Why not fight to make it the best it can become? There’s nothing stopping you,” the officer insisted. Caitir raised her stick.

“You’re a traitor and an occupier.”

“Do you really want to inherit your mother’s hatred?”

Caitir charged, jabbing the sword through the officer’s belly; she bled purple.

“I’ve got my own, thanks.”

Suddenly, Caitir stood before an empty room, with a well-beaten practice dummy before her. All her limbs were burning, and sweat was pouring down her face. Even her practice sword had a few dents in it. Caitir put it back on the rack, and dragged herself to the showers, muttering,

“I gotta start sleeping right again…”

Cadet Caitir Trumbull
Junior Technician & Mechwarrior Cadet
Eden’s Guard Security & Logistics Corporation
Assistant Mechtech, Apple Lance


A Talk: Penelope

2/8/3098 12:00
Eden’s Guard Operational Center
Fort Taurus, Continent of Ballay
La Blon, Kessel Prefecture, Draconis Combine

Penelope stretched her back, pressing her hips as leverage and took a deep breath through her nose. The smell rushed old feelings and memories. God damn La Blon. She wondered how often they would be coming back here. She wondered to herself, were they good memories? Or just old ones?

Penelope caught Caitir walking out of the dropship from the corner of her eye, while Precentor Aarden approached. Two conversations she needed to have, and neither could be held second. So, damn them both, and have them simultaneously.

“Caitir!” Penelope called. Caitir stopped, but didn’t turn for a moment as if deciding if she wanted to have heard her mother. After a moment, she did, joining Penelope and Precentor Aarden, who had stopped in place, suddenly confused and wondering if she hadn’t been recognized, or if she was interrupting some other conversation when Penelope had beckoned to Caitir.

“Precentor Aarden,” Penelope saluted. Saralee returned the gesture.

“Major Trumbull. Good to see you again. It’s been a long time.”

“And you as well. May I present Cadet Caitir Trumbull, my daughter,” Penelope gestured to Caitir, who snapped to a salute, deftly tossing her rucksack from one arm to the other in a single move. The Precentor saluted back.

“It’s been a long time since the Fifth was first deployed here, Major. How does it feel to be back?” Precentor Aarden asked. Penelope stood at ease, and bit her lip.

“Honestly I’m wondering why we bothered leaving at this point. Nonetheless, my Battalion is at your disposal, Precentor. Eden’s Guard are here to serve.”

“Outstanding. We sure could use you, Major. I’ve got a third of my Division to replace in a few weeks, and yet another La Blon campaign to fight at the same time. Why don’t we head to my office, and we’ll start ironing out the specifics?”

“Of course, Precentor, though I do have a request for you right now. I understand that many of your Adepts are being trained here on La Blon?”

“We have a few classes on hand, yes, though most are being brought in from offworld.”

“I’d like to enroll Cadet Trumbull in one, if that’s all right, during our stay here,” Penelope gestured to Caitir, who shot Penelope a wide-eyed glare for a brief moment, before returning to attention. Precentor Aarden glanced to Caitir and looked her up and down, before giving a nod.

“I don’t see why not, given the circumstances. Not like we’d be exposing her to any ComStar secrets, we’re mostly just getting them prepared to fight. We’ll have Ensign Trumbull fighting like ComGuard with the rest of her class. I believe class starts at Oh-Seven Hundred in Building D, Ensign. Report to Demi-Precentor Doymi,” the Precentor said.

“Yes, Precentor,” Caitir said.

“If you don’t mind, I’ll meet with you in your office, after I handle a few matters with the Battalion,” Penelope said to the Precentor, who nodded.

“I’ll let my aide know to expect you. Major, Ensign.”

They exchanged salutes, and the Precentor took her leave. Penelope crossed her arms, a sign that the military formalities were done.

“What the hell?” Caitir demanded.

“It’s a ComStar education, Caitir, you won’t get a better one, even if it is just for a few months,” Penelope said.

“Yeah, okay, fine, but you didn’t even talk to me about this!”

“Like you talked to me about-” Penelope caught herself before finishing the sentence; that would just make things worse, “I know, Caitir. Normally we talk about this sort of thing, but it was an opportunity at short notice. I wasn’t going to pass it up.”

“A two minute conversation.”

“You’ve been disappearing for entire days, studying and running yourself ragged over Northwind Academy, Caitir. I’ve barely seen you during the trip here. Don’t think I haven’t noticed you dragging yourself to bed at awful hours in the morning, and you grunting all the time because you’ve over-exerted yourself. I don’t know what’s changed, and I’m scared that what happened in Boluo has gotten to you,” Penelope said, “You’re too young for combat PTSD, and I brought you there.”

Caitir’s tension eased, as she relaxed and saw the expression of Penelope’s face, “Mom, I’m sorry. I guess I’m pretty worked up over everything. Boluo was pretty messed up, and I have no idea what I want to be doing. And...Honestly, it’s the normal ‘who am I’ crap that’s getting to me more.”

“I think you going to classes will give you some structure that you don’t normally have, like when we were on Terra, or when you lived with my mother. And give you the chance to see what ComStar is like,” Penelope said, pulling Caitir in for a hug, “But I also want you to start seeing Dr. Pacheco. You’ve got to take care of yourself first, okay?”

“Okay, mom.”

“I’m sorry I sprung this on you suddenly.”

“I’m sorry I didn’t bring up Northwind academy.”

Penelope pulled Caitir down to give her a kiss on the forehead, with either inches of height in difference between them, “Go get yourself settled in. I’ve got to figure out how to kick Agatha Marik’s butt with the Precentor. Love you.”

“Love you, too, Mom.”

Major Penelope “Dime” Trumbull
Commanding Officer, Eden’s Guard Security & Logistics Corporation
Lance Leader, Apple Lance
KIM-3C Komodo


2/8/3098 14:30
Eden’s Guard Operational Center
Fort Taurus, Continent of Ballay
La Blon, Kessel Prefecture, Draconis Combine

TEXT TRANSMISSION
Date: 2/2/3098
From: Captain Garrick Wolf, Eden’s Guard
To: Precentor VI Saralee Aarden, 83rd ComGuard Division

Precentor,

A pleasure to make your acquaintance. I know I speak for the entirety of Eden’s Guard when I say that we are looking forward to working with your division in the coming months. I imagine that Major Trumbull has already contacted you with regards to arrangements for the forthcoming operations. However, I have an additional, particular matter that I wished to discuss with you.

Due to various circumstances surrounding our recent expansion to battalion-level strength, I have found myself in possession of a BattleMech that we have not had the opportunity to hire a pilot for. Given the circumstances surrounding your division’s falling back to La Blon, it occurred to me that you likely have a number of pilots under your command who no longer possess functional BattleMechs.

In the spirit of mutual cooperation, and in the interest of putting another Mech on our side of the field (which I’m sure you’ll agree is never a bad thing), I would hereby like to extend an invitation to host a pilot of your choosing, as a temporary liaison between our two units attached to my command. The Mech in question is a Bushwacker BSW-X2 with a standard loadout, in good repair. I would be happy to take on whichever pilot you judge most capable of piloting that Mech and performing liaison duties.

I await your reply, and look forward to meeting you in person when we make planetfall on La Blon.

Yours,
Captain Garrick Wolf

- - -

TEXT TRANSMISSION
Date: 2/3/3098
From: Precentor VI Saralee Aarden, 83rd ComGuard Division
To: Captain Garrick Wolf, Eden’s Guard

Captain,

I am only too happy to accept your offer. As you point out, in a situation like the one we find ourselves in, every active Mech on the field is a boon. I have looked over the Mechwarrior personnel in my division who are without an assigned BattleMech and have selected Adept II Yasamin Shiarazi to transfer to your command for the duration of our contract. I believe you will find her capable, dedicated, and an overall valuable asset to your operations.

I will have Adept Shiarazi report to you as soon as possible once your unit has landed. May you have a swift and easy flight until then.

Sincerely,
Precentor VI Saralee Aarden

- - -

Garrick wiped a sheen of sweat from his brow. After weeks spent in the climate-controlled atmosphere of the Dropship mixed with a handful of days in relatively temperate planetside environments, the wet heat of Ballay had all but slapped him in the face when he’d first stepped out into it. He’d barely even noticed the climate during their deployment on Ohrensen, but this was going to take some getting used to.

“Whew,” Thoko commented, tugging at the collar of her uniform. Zeyal and Ken were in similar states. Garrick had taken pity on his lance and allowed them to wear duty uniforms for this meeting; he didn’t even want to think about what the heat would’ve been like in their dress uniforms.

Around them, the landing site buzzed with activity as it had for the several hours since they had touched down. Equipment was being unloaded from the dropships and carted off to the fort, or wherever else it had been slated to go. Nearby, the Orna was being completely emptied out and the engineers were starting preparations to refit it for combat operations. Somewhere out there, Saki was orchestrating the entire whirl of events around them. Garrick hoped things were running smoothly for her.

“Hey, Lead,” Thoko said, and pointed. Garrick followed the gesture with his eyes; a figure in a pristine white ComGuard uniform was making its way across the field, weaving awkwardly to dodge the rushing technicians. As it got closer, the figure resolved into a woman with ink-black hair and brown skin several shades lighter than Thoko’s. Spotting the group, she turned and made a beeline for them.

Garrick stepped forward as she approached, offering his hand to her when she was close. “Captain Garrick Wolf, Wolf Company, Eden’s Guard,” he said.

“Ha! He did go with ‘Wolf Company’!” he heard Zeyal whisper behind him.

“Shhh,” Thoko replied.

If the woman had heard his lancemates whispering, she gave no indication of it. “Adept Yasmin Shiarazi,” she replied, accepting Garrick’s offered hand and shaking it. “83rd ComGuards. No more specific unit designation, unfortunately,” she added with a rueful smile, “since my former unit was destroyed on Athenry.”

“My condolences,” said Garrick. “But I’m glad to have you with us.” He turned back to his lancemates. “These are the members of my lance, and the people you’ll be working directly with the most during your stay with us. This is my sib, Zeyal Wolf, Thokozani Pretorius--just call her Thoko, though, she likes it a lot better--and Ken Kurosawa.” 

Each of his lancemates nodded in turn as they were introduced, and Shiarazi responded to each with a small bow. “A pleasure to meet all of you,” she said. “I appreciate this opportunity to continue the fight against the Free Worlds League.”

“Glad to have you with us, Adept,” said Zeyal with a grin.

“And always happy to stick it to the League,” added Thoko. “They’re proper bastards, aren’t they?”

“Er… yes,” replied Shiarazi, looking nonplussed.

Garrick coughed. “Why don’t we go to the Dyrnwyn?” he said, indicating the dropship behind them. “I can introduce you to some of the other personnel in our company, and show you the Mech you’ll be piloting.”

Cool air washed over them as they stepped into the Dyrnwyn’s main bay. “Whew,” said Zeyal. “Normally I’m not so eager to get back into a Dropship after being cooped up for weeks, but this is definitely a relief.”

“The climate does take some getting used to,” Shiarazi agreed. “I’m told that many people find it quite pleasant, though.”

“They must be crazy,” grumbled Zeyal.

“More likely, they’re tourists who can walk around in their swimsuits all day if they want to,” said Thoko, rubbing at a patch of sweat beneath her uniform as if to punctuate her point.

“So this is our main bay,” Garrick said, pitching his voice to carry over his lancemate’s chatter. “Our Mechs are over there.” He pointed.

“Shadow Hawk,” said Shiarazi, peering across the bay at the Mechs lined up against the bulkhead. “Quickdraw. Griffin. Jenner. And I’ve been told that the Bushwacker is mine.” She nodded, satisfied. “Mobility, and decent firepower. Should be good for skirmishing.”

“That’s the idea,” said Garrick. “The Captain and her command will be staying here at Taurus to provide security. Wolf Company will be our mobile strike force, deploying to respond to League incursions as they happen.”

“Hey, we’re at five Mechs in our lance again,” Zeyal cut in. “This is the second operation in a row where we’ve been deploying as a Star. Are you doing this on purpose, Garrick?”

Garrick fixed her with a look. “Do you really think I was working with Cathan voluntarily?”

Zeyal grimaced, drawing chuckles from Thoko and Ken. “You’re right,” she said. “Forget I said anything.”

Shiarazi was watching them with a blank expression on her face. “Cathan?” she asked in a tone of polite confusion.

“An… ally from our last contract,” Garrick said. “It’s a long story. I’m sure you’ll get filled in on it at some point.”

“Actually,” Thoko said, consulting the time on her PDA, “why don’t we tell the story over lunch? It looks like we’re overdue to eat anyway, and I’m guessing you haven’t eaten either, Adept.”

Shiarazi bit her lip and glanced down at her stomach, which gurgled as if on cue. “You… guess correctly, Thoko. A meal would be appreciated right around now.”

“Sounds like we should head to the mess, then,” said Garrick with a smile.

Zeyal threw an arm around Shiarazi’s shoulders, making the other woman start slightly. “Come on, Shiarazi,” Zeyal said with a toothy grin. “We’ll get you situated, give you the grand tour--and I’ll tell you which mess foods you should avoid.”

Captain Garrick “Canis” Wolf
Executive Officer, Eden’s Guard Security & Logistics Corporation
Lance Leader, Wolf Lance
SHD-5D Shadow Hawk 


2/10/3098 10:15
Eden’s Guard Operational Center
Fort Taurus, Continent of Ballay
La Blon, Kessel Prefecture, Draconis Combine

The door of the conference room chimed. “Enter,” Garrick said, not lifting his head. The display on the table before him was cluttered with diagrams and reports, scattered around haphazardly as Garrick had pushed them aside to get at the next one on the screen. He was gazing at them as if in deep thought, although truthfully he was mostly thinking about the fact that his temples were beginning to throb with a dull ache.

“Sir?” came Leftenant Lamb’s voice, tentative, from the doorway.

“Yes.” Garrick gestured, still without looking up. “Come in. Find a seat. Make yourself comfortable.”

“Is there a problem, sir?”

Now Garrick looked up, frowning quizzically at Lamb. “Problem? Why would there be a problem?”

“I don’t know, sir. You just sent a message asking to see me.”

“Well, that’s because--” Garrick suddenly realized what Lamb was thinking, and gave a short sigh of annoyance. “Lamb, you’re my second in command. Or did you not notice that you have the second-highest rank in our company?”

“I--” Lamb began, but Garrick was already waving it away.

“That was too short. I apologize. My point is, I’m going to be asking to speak to you quite a bit from now on, so it’d be best for you not to have a heart attack each time it happens.” Garrick smiled, and it was only a little strained. “I’d much prefer having you in good fighting shape, if it’s all the same to you.”

“I, uh, prefer it that way myself,” Lamb responded with a weak smile of his own. Then he crossed to Garrick’s side of the table and took a seat next to him. “So what’s on your mind, Captain?” The anxious man of moments before was suddenly gone; Lamb’s SLDF experience had taken over, and he was smooth and professional.

Just having that presence sitting next to him made Garrick relax a little internally. “I’m trying to lay down some basic SOPs for this contract,” he said. “Obviously we’re going to be doing a lot of responding to the League’s moves when they show up, but that’s about what you expect for a defensive war.” He gestured at one of the many reports on the display. “The Orna’s been refitted with Mech bay modules to carry Alpha Lance around. With the addition of Adept Shiarazi, it’s a tight fit--we’ve had to rig up a makeshift bay for the Jenner in the regular cargo bay--but we’ll be mobile enough to respond to League attacks wherever on the planet they occur. That leaves the question of our battle armor assets, which is an area that you have significantly more experience in than I do.”

Lamb nodded slowly, showing no apparent reaction to the blatant stroke of his ego (though Garrick suspected he was pleased nonetheless). “Shade Lance--er, Omega Lance, now--is pretty much set,” he said. “The Karnovs have the capacity to carry them, and the ECM coverage they’ll need for covert insertion. We should probably think of them more or less separately from the rest of the company.”

“Even if the entire company’s committed to a pitched battle, they’d be best utilized for a flanking or backstab maneuver,” Garrick observed.

“Exactly. Now, Gardener Lance will probably be using the Trireme to get around.” Lamb looked up at Garrick. “Although Clanners like to have their battle armor ride their Mechs, correct?”

Garrick couldn’t help but grin. “I asked Leftenant Poke about grafting handles to our Battlemechs for that purpose, actually.”

Lamb lifted an eyebrow. “...and?”

“He looked at me like I’d lost my mind and said he’d look into it. Which I believe is Leftenant Poke’s way of telling people to fuck off.” Garrick shook his head. “I think I’ll talk to Saki--that is, Captain Urufu--about it. She’ll be a bit more open to the idea.”

“Right, so… let’s just go ahead and have the Trireme be our default transport option for now. That just leaves the question of, uh… Seraph Lance.”

“And now you know why I had a headache when you came in.”

Lamb frowned at the display. “You’re referring to the fact that we have half the transport capacity we need for them, I take it.”

“I’m planning on asking for another each of the Balac and DI when we do our next round of requisitions. Unfortunately that’s some ways off, and does nothing to answer the question of what we do with them in the meantime.”

“Hmmm.” Lamb gazed at the report, lips pursed in thought. Finally he said, “Really, it doesn’t make sense to try and force them to be a lance when they’re not fully equipped to be one. Why don’t we--I mean, I suggest that we take them apart and put each piece somewhere else, where they’ll be most effective. The Infiltrator suits can tag along with Gardener Lance; the Trireme has plenty of room for them. The Balac and the DI can be attached to Alpha Lance as air support.”

“That creates some fairly large lances,” said Garrick, frowning.

“Given the strategic situation here, we’re probably going to be dealing with massed battles more often than skirmishes, so who cares--I mean, it probably won’t be a problem. Sir.” Lamb winced slightly. “I know you prefer being modular and light on your feet, but until we have the equipment to support that, it’s better to be realistic.”

“I suppose I can’t argue with that,” said Garrick. He tapped out a note to himself on the display. “It’ll work as an ad hoc solution for the current contract, at any rate. Thank you for your input, Leftenant; you’ve been very helpful.”

“My pleasure, sir,” Lamb responded, beaming. “Was there anything else you wanted from me?”

“No, that’s all for now,” said Garrick. Lamb stood and started moving towards the door. “Wait, actually,” Garrick added, making him stop short. “I’d almost forgotten amongst the whole organizational mess--I thought that, since our company will be working together as a unit for the first time, I could throw a little mixer for everybody to mingle and get to know each other better. I’ve spoken to the Major about it and she’s agreed to give us the evening off tomorrow. Will you spread the word among the infantry?”

Lamb blinked at him, surprised. “That’s… an excellent idea, sir. I’ll make sure everybody knows.”

“Good.” Garrick grinned. “Then I’ll see you there, Leftenant.”

Captain Garrick “Canis” Wolf
Executive Officer, Eden’s Guard Security & Logistics Corporation
Lance Leader, Wolf Lance
SHD-5D Shadow Hawk 


2/15/3098 03:10
Orbital Defense Station Pelerin
La Blon High Orbit
La Blon, Kessel Prefecture, Draconis Combine

Technician Seanna Ivanovic nursed her coffee and blearily tried to will herself into wakefulness. She’d hoped to have adjusted to her lifestyle by now--half a year into her assignment--but having a different sleep schedule every few days was just not something that was easy for a person to take. This cup of coffee was looking to be the first of several. She clanked the empty cup, a mug emblazoned with a character from a cartoon she’d watched as a young girl, down on her desk and peered at her assigned display.

There was nothing to report. The last month or so had been more hectic than Seanna had ever seen before, first with the ComGuards falling back to the system and making planetfall at Taurus, and then the mercenary unit coming in to reinforce them last week. As the days went by since then, however, things had settled back down and everybody had fallen back into the routines that had been in place beforehand. Supposedly the Free Worlds League was poised to strike into the system at any time, but they seemed to be taking their sweet time about it. Some people whispered that the attack wasn’t coming, that the mercenary reinforcements had given the League pause, that the enemy unit had been redirected to the Capellan front. Seanna didn’t know that she believed that--the ComGuards certainly seemed to think that there was going to be a fight--but nonetheless, the mood around the station had lapsed into the calm stoicism that marked long-term garrison duty.

A contact lit up on Seanna’s display, breaking into her reverie and making her frown. It wasn’t anything immediately obvious, just a momentary heat flare from some sort of object coming around from the far side of Gwenhyvar, one of the La Blon’s three moons. “Sir,” she said, swiveling her chair to face the officer on duty. “I think I’ve got--”

What Seanna had was the FWLS Uther, a Free Worlds League warship that had been harassing the ComGuards in the La Blon system since shortly after their initial arrival. The heat bloom her display picked up had been the ship launching a massive barrage of capital-class ballistics at the orbital defense platform. 

Seanna and her comrades did not have time to discern any of this information before the shells impacted.

The autocannons’ shells tore into the Pelerin’s superstructure, peeling open the outer bulkheads. Half a second later, the slug from the Uther’s gauss rifle punched through a power relay system, triggering an explosion that ignited the station’s remaining internal atmosphere, sending sheets of flame roaring through its corridors. Most of the station’s couple hundred crew died without more than a split second’s awareness of what was killing them. A handful, positioned just right to be carried into space by the decompression of the rupturing bulkheads, had longer, a few brief moments of disorientation and pain before shock pulled them into unconsciousness. A handful more, spared by the activation of the station’s damage-containment systems, were able to recover their wits enough to put together that they were under attack.

The Uther slid through space towards its target, speeding up as its previously inert main engines ignited to full burn. The Pelerin was beginning to list drunkenly, scattered clouds of debris around it throwing off occasional diamond-like gleams. Behind it, fiery points streaked across the face of La Blon as the first bits of debris hit the upper layers of the atmosphere. There was a moment of breathless stillness, and then the Uther laid into the station with a burst from its laser battery, targeted as carefully as a murderer slips a knife between their victim’s ribs. The Pelerin’s internal structure, already stressed and bent, reverberated with a deep groan and sheared apart, sending pieces of the station tumbling away into the void.

Satisfied with its handiwork, the Uther used its maneuvering thrusters to tumble in space, pointing itself towards the system’s zenith jump point, and accelerated away.

Technician Seanna Ivanovic
Formerly of the La Blon Planetary Militia
Orbital Defense Division 


2/15/3098 5:15
Eden’s Guard Operational Center
Fort Taurus, Continent of Ballay
La Blon, Kessel Prefecture, Draconis Combine

“Where the hell did they come from?” Garrick knew it was a useless question even before it left his lips, but his mind was still reeling and couldn’t fixate on anything else. “We knew they were out there, but why didn’t we see them coming?


“As far as I can tell, the attack on the orbital defense station came from behind the moon Gwenhyvar,” Maggie said. “They boosted themselves up, cut main power, and used the moon’s gravity and their maneuvering thrusters to swerve themselves towards the station. Except for trace amounts of waste heat, there was practically nothing to detect until the moment they fired their weapons.” She shrugged. “As for their approach before that, without hard data I can only speculate that they plotted a course that kept them hidden behind various stellar bodies in the system. With good calculations and a little bit of luck, it’s perfectly doable.”

“How clever of them,” Garrick growled. And it was clever; had one of his people come up with it, he’d have been duly impressed. That was cold comfort, though, to a planetary militia left to mourn its fallen--and planetary defenders who suddenly found themselves painfully exposed.

“There’s not a lot we can do from here,” Penelope pointed out, “We’re here to defend the bases and help keep the planet in ComStar’s hands. It’s up to the Precentor and the Assault Dropships to deal with this. It’s regrettable, but we there’s nothing we can do about the Uther.”

Maggie nodded, “We need to focus on what we can deal with. The Free Worlds League wants this planet crushed, which means they have to either take it for themselves, or make it nonviable. If they decide to bombard the bases, there’s not a lot we can do about that. But the League will earn ire from the Lyrans and the Dracs, and they’ll have plenty of call to slap House Marik with an Ares violation.

“After taking out what orbital defenses La Blon does have, the Uther could have just started making orbital strikes, and we wouldn’t be having this conversation because we’d all be dead. Which means that the FWL isn’t interested in blowing up every scrap of resistance, they want to take this planet, which means we’ve got a chance to fight them on our terms.

“The Uther is currently headed for the zenith jump point, likely meaning that they’re planning to rendezvous with an incoming invasion force,” Maggie added, indicating a readout. “Good news for us, because their current planetside assets are negligible, so we’ve got at minimum nine days before anything big hits us.”

“Well, since our orbital defenses are entirely in ComStar’s hands,” said Garrick, “that means the immediate question for us is where the League is going to make planetfall.”

Maggie raised an eyebrow at him and gestured pointedly at a hologram showing the entirety of planet La Blon.

“Okay, but we can rule out a few possibilities,” Garrick said. “They’re not going to assault us here at Fort Taurus off the bat; too death-or-glory. No, they’re going to want to get a secure and defensible base of operations. That means they’re probably going to avoid Ballay as a whole since we have a strong presence here.” He peered thoughtfully at the image of the world. “Elise is more viable but I don’t think they’ll touch down too close to Amadeus, because anything the capitol sees and hears is going to get back to us almost immediately. If I had to lay odds, though… I’d put somewhere in the Renaria wilderness at the top of my list.”

“And because we’re already on-planet, we’ve got the advantage to deploy there first,” Penelope gestured to the map, “There aren’t a lot of viable landing sites, or even targets for that matter. If they want to set up shop and go for a bloody campaign of attrition, which they might think they could win, they’ll have to set up shop. So if we set up first, and let them get far along enough that they’re committed, they’ll end up over-extended and cut off, and this campaign will have been far bloodier than they’ll have bargained for, even before they’d be able to land enough ‘Mechs to go toe-to-toe with ComStar. So how do we feel about secret jungle bases?”

“Jungle bases, huh?” Garrick thought for a moment, and then a grin spread across his face. “Now that you mention it… that seems like the ideal terrain for deploying battle armor. We’ll be able to fade in and out of the jungle for quick surprise attacks, and hopefully bog their Mechs down enough to slow down their deployment.”

“And if they decide that jungle warfare is too intense for them, they’ll move to one of the other continents, which is our home turf. Either way, they won’t be able to leverage the Uther; in the jungle, it won’t be able to hit anything. Elsewhere, they risk too many civilian targets,” Penelope said.

“That sounds like a plan to me,” Garrick said. He stood back from the display and took a moment to stretch his back, trying to will the weariness from his body. “I should go prepare a briefing for my people. Most of them are still sleeping, but I want to get them up to speed as soon as possible when they’re awake. Major, can I assume that you’re intending to take care of talking to Precentor Aarden and her people about our plans?”

“I’ll run it by her, and get her approval. Start drawing up protocols and proposals, and we’ll start bleeding them from the feet.”

Captain Garrick “Canis” Wolf
Executive Officer, Eden’s Guard Security & Logistics Corporation
Lance Leader, Alpha Lance
SHD-5D Shadow Hawk

And

Major Penelope “Dime” Trumbull
Commanding Officer, Eden’s Guard Security & Logistics Corporation
Lance Leader, Apple Lance
KIM-3C Komodo


Study: Caitir

3/06/3098 15:30
83rd ComGuard Division Training Base
Fort Taurus, Continent of Ballay
La Blon, Kessel Prefecture, Draconis Combine

Caitir tapped her lightpen against the side of her pad, a light, steady beat playing in her headphones while she thought about the scenario given to her. Studying with the Acolytes of ComStar had been interesting, and her dreams had only gotten weirder since then. She’d been having dreams of herself working in ComStar, as if it had been the most normal thing in the world. Naturally, all of her coworkers were herself, in their various iterations and variations, which only threw her for even more of a loop.

She rubbed her forehead with her hand, trying to bring her mind away from the dreams, and back to the present. Caitir took a deep breath, and looked back at the problem she’d been handed in school.

It was similar to a few scenarios she’d failed before, and it was obviously modeled on La Blon. The reasons were obvious, of course; her classmates were to be expected to be jumping into Battlemechs as they arrived, and fight on La Blon. Caitir wasn’t, of course, but that didn’t stop her from keeping up with everyone else. In the last year or so, she’d realized how good she was at all this. Studying with ComStar made her realize how much further she had to go.

She was a good Mech pilot. She was a good mechanic. She knew she had a lot to learn and practice, but the study of large-scale strategy had thrown her for a complete loop. Caitir had grasped combined-arms tactics and deployment well enough, but the reasons for taking certain operations, the effects, and what was appropriate to deploy and where was frustrating her. They had been hard lessons to learn, and she often had to sit and listen to her instructions explain to her what she’d theoretically lost for her mistakes, and the ripple effects they would have on campaigns every time.

When it came to taking orders in simulations, or even a few times in the cockpit, she excelled. Caitir wasn’t the best fighter, or even leader, in the few chances she’d been in command of a Lance, but she was easily towards the top of her class. She’d quickly earned a reputation for not going down in situations where she clearly should have “died”. It had earned her a callsign already: “Die Hard.”

Frustrated with the lack of progress she was making on this assignment-she was determined to finally get it right-she flipped through the feedback and notes she’d received about previous scenarios, which consistently described the excessive loss of resources, objectives, and overabundance of last stands which were considered theatrical but either fruitless or excessive. Going in the opposite direction on other assignments, her strategies were described as flighty, ineffective, and overcomplicated.

Just as she felt the hypnotic beats lull her into a state of concentration, she felt someone tap on her headphones, which snapped her back into the park she was studying in. A platoon of trainees marched by with their Drill Sergeant-someone from the Blue Helms, actually-leading them in some obscene cadence. She scowled at Hideo Eiji, one of the ComStar acolytes in her class. He said something, but her headphones were too noise-cancelling for her to hear him.

“I can’t hear you, I’ve got music on,” she told him, unable to hear her own voice. Her grabbed one of her headphones. Caitir swatted his hand away, “Fuck off, I’m studying.”

“I just wanted to know what you were listening to,” he insisted.

“Music,” Caitir huffed at him, “Now go away.”

“You don’t have to be so rude about it.”

“When someone comes 'n' taps 'n' grabs at mah headphone, I can be as rude as a'm wanting. So let me be absolutely clear aboot this, Eiji: Dae. Nae. Touch. Me. Ye’d think yer maw’da taught that tae ye when ye were five.”

“My mother’s dead.”

“Aye, that explains it, then. Go ask Adept Jaffe if ye want instruction, I don’t have time tae teach ye. Now piss off, bawbag.”

“You’ve got a lot to learn about respect.”

Caitir stood, standing half a head taller than him and hissed, “Ye’ve got a lot tae learn aboot keepin’ yer meat-hunks to yerself. Dae. Nae. Touch. Me.”

“Kick his ass, Caitir!” another Acolyte cheered.

“I got my beats to get back to, I don’t have time to skelp this twerp around,” she started to sit back down.

“Don’t talk about my mother!” Eiji snarled, pushing her. As she was already headed in that direction, she landed on her bench, slamming against the back of the bench harder than intended. Caitir clenched a fist, but instead took a breath. She knew she could beat Eiji in a fistfight, but if she swung back, she would have started it.

“Eiji,” Caitir kept her words controlled and concise, even slipping out of the Northwind accent she’d picked up, “Do. Not. Touch. Me. Shoving another student is a lot worse than mentioning their mothers.”

Eiji opened his mouth to say something else, but another student intervened.

“Eiji, leave it! Calm down, let’s get something to drink,” the other Acolyte said, coming up to Eiji, who was turning red. Eiji glared at Caitir, then turned away, escorted by the Acolyte. Caitir watched them walk away until they were out of earshot.

“What a brat!” the Acolyte who’d egged her on said.

“Tell me about it,” Caitir slipped her headphones back on. She felt the other Acolyte lean against her bench, but if he said anything, she didn’t hear him, instead slipping into the old Terran Hip-Hop songs, which had been gifted to her by her father, allowing the relaxed beats to lull her back into a calmed state so she could focus back on her work. It wouldn’t be easy figuring out what she was doing wrong, but after that, Caitir felt her blood pumping. Tapping her lightpen again, she flipped through her old assignments, trying to figure out what it was she was missing.

This would take a while.

Acolyte-Cadet Caitir “Die Hard” Trumbull
Junior Technician & Mechwarrior Cadet
Eden’s Guard Security & Logistics Corporation
83rd ComGuards Division Training Battalion


Hurricane Forces: Mason Brightman
3/15/3098 07:00
Hurricane Disaster Area
Continent of Elise
La Blon, Kessel Prefecture, Draconis Combine

“Well, are you working or gawking? Git to it!” Captain Brightman shouted, waving to the workers and his crews, and his Buffel roared to life. The dozer smashed into a demolished house, pushing the rubble aside, and clearing the plot in an instant. A group of workers followed it, picking up additional rubble, and prepping the spot for salvage.

The Dirty Devils weren’t here to rebuild the community, of course. A sudden hurricane had struck eastern Elise, prompting the local government to ask the Eden’s Guard for assistance. The Dirty Devils were needed on Renaria, setting up the jungle bases that were going to be central to their operations, but the Eden’s Guard were not going to ignore the plight of the locals. ComStar understood, and had provided a Dropship to move them to the disaster area, where they were spending a week setting up recovery center, to get the locals back on their feet until full assistance could arrive from the wealthier areas of the planet.

This community had been completely flattened, but the roads were still intact, and were arranged conveniently for further operations. Much of the local infrastructure was still intact, as well. Developers would turn it back into a neighborhood soon enough. Captain Brightman wasn’t used to this kind of work, but it felt good being able to do something for people aside from laying minefields or blowing up walls.

When he’d been sent to the Eden’s Guard, he thought their talk of humanitarian work had been just that. But after spending a few months building roads on Ohrensen, and now this, he had come to realize that they meant what they advertised. Technically, they were getting paid for this, but it was the principle of helping people when there was a war to be fought.

Confident that his Buffel had things under control, Mason left to go to the ‘command tent’, which was little more than a bit of canvas where important people stood to watch work happen. It was on a hill, though, so it was well-placed to do so, and he had an excellent view of their efforts. Most everyone here was a volunteer or worker sent by the La Blon government, but his own people provided a great deal of expertise and equipment that the locals didn’t have access to. No matter what technology you had, though, when it came down to it, a combat engineer was nothing without a good old shovel, and he made sure all of his soldiers had one.

From the hill, he also had a view of the horizon, as well, and he scowled at what he saw: A series of aircraft, headed right for them.

“Are we expecting any additional assistance in the next hour?” he asked, pulling up his binoculars. He already knew the answer, and had a damn good guess what it was, even with the naked eye.

“Uh...Now? Why?”

Mason peered through the binoculars, and took a sharp breath. He was already fairly familiar with what the Eden’s Guard had in their armory, and they didn’t have VTOL’s like that.

“We’re under attack,” he announced, and grabbed his radio, barking orders to hide their equipment and scramble to defensive positions. Within moments, he watched the Dirty Devils scramble, driving the Buffels deeper into the wrecked neighborhoods to hide the expensive equipment. Switching from their shovels to their rifles, the engineers moved as platoons, scattering. The confused workers watched the sudden burst of energy from the mercenaries, unsure of what was going on or what they should do.

“What do we do?” one of the relief coordinators asked him. Mason bit his lip; truthfully, he wasn’t sure. He wasn’t used to working with civilians in a combat situation like this.

“Get everyone back to their tents. Wave a red cross, you’re a relief effort. We’ve got military equipment. We aren’t protected by any treaty, but you are, provided that we stay separate. I’m sorry you’ve been dragged into this,” Mason told her. She gave a snort.

“Bullshit, dragged into this. They’re invading our planet. You didn’t do this. But I’ll make sure it gets done,” she promised. Mason couldn’t spare her anything more than a quick grin, before grabbing his rifle, and joining his men in the retreat.

How they were going to get through this, much less move them to Renaria, he wasn’t sure.

Captain Mason Brightman
Engineering Officer, Eden’s Guard Security & Logistics Corporation
Company Commander, Dirty Devils
Buffel Engineering Support Vehicle VIII


3/15/3098 08:45
Line of Departure
Jungle Wilderness, Continent of Renaria
La Blon, Kessel Prefecture, Draconis Combine

Luciano Lamb was a veteran in every way one could figure. He’d cut his teeth in the Star League Defense Force. He’d spent the thirteen years since its collapse as a mercenary, fighting in theaters all across the Inner Sphere against every kind of foe imaginable. He’d spent so much time in his battle armor that it had become like a second skin to him--no mean feat for a piece of hardware weighing a full ton.

Even so, after all these years, his breathing still sounded loud to him inside his helmet.

“Den Mother, this is Chops,” Luciano said on his comm. “Gardener Lance is in position and holding at Nav Alpha. We’re ready to go on your signal.”

“Copy that, Chops.” Garrick’s voice answered in his ear, the transmission slightly garbled.

“Strider here.” Lieutenant Pace, the leader for Omega Lance, cut in. “Omega Lance has successfully inserted at Nav Beta and is holding here.”

“Copy, Strider,” said Garrick. “Chops, the op is go. Take Gardener Lance in and light the place up. Omega Lance will move in to hit their objective when you give the signal.”

“Roger that, Den Mother. Chops out.” Cutting his comm, Luciano lifted his hand in a signal to the ranks of heavy infantry arrayed behind him. Four squads of four made up Gardener Lance, each soldier outfitted in the so-called “Inner Sphere Standard” battle armor. From an unarmed human’s perspective, the armor was bulky and imposing, but the mores of battlefields that regularly saw combatants that could reach 12 meters in height and 100 tons in mass shifted Luciano and his lance into the “small and maneuverable” combat role.

Reacting to Luciano’s signal, Gardener Lance cautiously picked their way forward, shifting and twisting to avoid the foliage in their way. After about a minute of advancement, Luciano’s comm clicked in his ear. “We’re coming up to the edge of the slash zone, Chops,” reported Bishop--Gayla Batori, one of Luciano’s squad leaders. Indeed, the seemingly-endless trees had suddenly begun to thin out just a few meters ahead.

“Gardener Lance, halt,” Luciano ordered. There was a series of soft thumps as each soldier dug an armored boot into the ground to stop their forward momentum. Up ahead, a clearing had been violently cut into the rainforest, charred stumps marking where trees had stood until just recently. Luciano moved up slightly, as close as he dared to the treeline, and peered into the clearing. In the middle, as far from the cover of the trees as possible, stood a prefabricated outpost, the sort that large armies hauled in enormous flatpacks on their ships for quick assembly planetside. And of course…

“I’m counting…” Luciano skimmed his eyes over the clearing, “...two squads of battle armor.” Free Worlds League soldiers clad in Longinus battle armor were moving about the perimeter of the outpost.

“Three, sir,” Batori corrected him. “There’s a squad of Ogres around the side of the outpost.”

“Figures,” growled Luciano. “Keep an eye on those ones, Gardeners--their battle claws will rip through your armor like paper.”

Another of Luciano’s squad commanders, Vaughn Estevez, spoke up. “Are we gonna address the elephant in the room, here?”

“I’d thought that one went without saying,” Luciano responded dryly. In addition to the patrolling battle armor, a Spider BattleMech stood sentinel by the outpost--small and light by Mech standards, but ton for ton, it weighed nearly twice as much as all of Gardner Lance together. At the moment it was standing still enough to be mistaken for a large metal statue, but Luciano knew from experience how quickly Mechs could explode into motion once the shooting started.

“Doesn’t look like they’ve picked up our chatter yet,” Luciano said, half to himself. Then, “Okay, Gardeners. They’ve brought some firepower, and we don’t want to present them with a target. Stay behind the treeline, make a firing line, pick something to shoot at and ruin its day, then move. The harder it is for them to figure out what’s going on, the better for us.”

A chorus of comm clicks acknowledged his instructions.

Luciano hefted the laser that had been slotted into the modular mount on his suit’s arm, sweeping his eyes over the field and evaluating targets. “Go for the armor first,” he said. “We take them out, then we can focus on swarming the Mech. On my mark…”

The soldiers around him stirred slightly, readying their weapons.

“Open fire!”

Laser fire lanced into the clearing, burning trails through the air. Several of the Longinus suits convulsed violently, their myomer ‘muscles’ amplifying the flinch reactions of their occupants to the sudden attack burning into their armor. Luciano adjusted his aim and fired another laser burst, shearing more armor from his target. “Alpha Squad, move!” he barked.

He pivoted with unlikely grace and barreled through the foliage, moving parallel to the edge of the clearing. The air around him filled with the sound of pounding armored boots as his squad moved along with him.

“Missiles incoming!” said Batori in his ear, voice taut.

The Longinus suits had recovered from the sudden attack and were now turning to bring their mounted missile launchers to bear. A volley of short-range missiles streaked into the forest, shattering trees into splinters and throwing up showers of dirt as they detonated. The explosions rattled Luciano’s suit around him, but he’d avoided any direct hits. “Too sloppy,” he commented, grinning widely. “Strider, I think we’ve got their attention. You’re clear to proceed.”

“Copy that, Chops. Omega Lance moving out, ETA one minute.”

The ground shuddered slightly underneath Luciano. The Spider’s pilot had finally started reacting to the situation, and was turning toward the source of the attack. “The big boy’s come to play, Gardners!” Luciano barked. “Stay mobile!” Aiming quickly, he snapped off a shot at one of the Longinus suits and was rewarded by his laser burning through a weak point in its damaged armor, causing the suit to stumble and fall to the ground. Without stopping to savor the success, Luciano jinked and turned, leading his squad off in another direction.

The Spider triggered a burst from the lasers mounted in its chest, sweeping them across the treeline. The foliage ignited along the path of the burning beams, and passing cries of pain on the comm told Luciano that some of his people had gotten caught in the attack. He let out a growl of frustration, gritting his teeth; there was no time to find out who was hurt, or how badly.

Another shot from the Spider sent another gout of flame rushing through the jungle. “Sir, that’s too much for us to handle!” Estevez panted over the comm. “We’re going to get roasted if we keep going like this!”

Luciano let out a breath. “Right. Bravo, Charlie, Delta, stay focused on the armor. Alpha, with me--jump and swarm!”

A roar filled the air as Alpha Squad ignited their jump jets, the powerful rockets lifting their battle suits into the air, their jump trajectory aimed at the Spider. The Mech swerved towards them as they hurtled towards it, but it was too ponderous compared to them to bring its weapons to bear. Luciano slammed into the Mech’s chest, causing it to stumble backwards; with practiced reflex, he lashed out with the battleclaw equipped on his suit’s right arm, sinking it into the Spider’s armor to gain purchase.

His stomach lurched sharply, suddenly; the Spider had begun to spin its torso back and forth in an attempt to shake its assailants off. His peripheral vision caught one his squadmates losing their grip and falling to the ground below. With grim purpose, he dug in deeper with his claw and hung on with everything he and his suit could muster.

After a moment the Mech stopped spinning and turned back to the battle below, its pilot evidently deciding to focus its attention on things it could hit. Luciano grinned again. He’d make them regret that decision.

He let go of the Mech with his claw, simultaneously firing a burst from his jump jets--much shorter than the first one, just enough to gain a few meters. This one brought him crashing down on top of the Spider; digging in again with his claw, he could see nearly eye-to-eye with the pilot now, a young woman whose eyes had gone wide with panic. Luciano fired a laser burst directly into the cockpit. The armored canopy held, but he hadn’t expected to punch through with a single attack. Lifting his laser arm, he brought it down on the cockpit like a club, bashing again and again at the weakened structure. Inside, the pilot was frantically working at her controls. That was the main point of the maneuver--if she was focused on him, she wasn’t shooting at his men. Luciano smiled slightly to himself as he continued to club away.

Behind the Spider, an explosion rocked the outpost building, sending a fireball blossoming up into the sky.

“Omega Lance has engaged,” said Pace. “Thanks, Chops, you gave us a great shot.”

“My pleasure, Strider,” replied Luciano. He released his claw’s grip from the Spider and shoved with both his legs, pushing himself off and away from the Mech. He fired one last burst from his laser as a parting gift as he dropped; a short blast from his jump jets ensured that he landed only somewhat heavily. The Spider stood still above him, smoke pouring from the cockpit. Apparently his final shot had finally broken through the cockpit, no doubt torching the pilot in her seat. It was a hell of a way to go, but Luciano had definitely seen worse.

Omega Lance’s entrance had swung the engagement decisively in their favor. With the Spider neutralized, the battle armor units were left to fend for themselves in the jaws of a pincer attack. Luciano opened fire at an Ogre that was attempting to rend the armor from one of Omega Lance’s soldiers; whirling, the Ogre snapped off a return shot with its SRM launchers. Luciano made a powerful leap to the left to avoid the missiles, landing hard on his arm as they detonated against the treeline several yards behind him. He raised his laser in preparation for a counterattack, but the Ogre had already moved to join the bedraggled group of FWL armor that was falling back. “Chops to Den Mother,” he said. “Looks like they’re retreating. Should we pursue?”

“Neg--that is, negative, Chops,” replied Garrick. Luciano noted the lapse into Clan-speak with some amusement. “Looks like they’ve already got reinforcements inbound. Torch the outpost and get out of there.”

“Roger, Den Mother.”

Batori was standing in the middle of the clearing, looking contemplatively up at the Spider. “You think we can get this back to base for salvage?” she asked.

“Are you volunteering to haul it in yourself?”

“No, sir,” Batori replied quickly.

“Then no. Strider,” Luciano added, “Den Mother says we’ve got more incoming. Blow the base and let’s get the hell out of here.”

“Roger that, Chops.” Pace issued a rapid series of orders to Omega Lance. The two squads turned together to face the outpost building, and the clearing filled with blinding light as they fired a coordinated missile volley. When the light receded, the outpost had been reduced to a smoldering, twisted wreck, burning sullenly in the middle of the clearing.

“Good work, everybody,” said Luciano. “Strider, we’ll see you back at base. Gardener Lance, let’s get back home again.”

“Jiggity-jig,” Estevez added.

Leftenant Luciano “Chops” Lamb
Infantry Officer, Eden’s Guard Security & Logistics Corporation
Lance Leader, Gardener Lance
IS Standard Battle Armor


Fujiwhara Effect: Mason Brightman

3/19/3098 22:00
Hurricane Disaster Area
Continent of Elise
La Blon, Kessel Prefecture, Draconis Combine

Captain Brightman watched the beach through his binoculars, and cursed his lack of ordnance.

He had a Company of Engineers. They had rifles, to be sure, but the landing party had VTOL’s dropping infantry onto the beach, as well as some mortars. For the last two days, he’d been playing cat-and-mouse with the League’s VTOLs and infantry.

He’d learned from some of his Eden’s Guard engineers that the VTOLs that were chasing them were Havoc Assault VTOL’s. He could tell from this vantage point that they were far heavier and better-armed than anything that they had on their roster. The big point of contention, though, was the fact that they were Havocs; they were a Star League design, and some of them were used to working on them on Terra. Seeing them here, on La Blon, being used by the Free Worlds League, only reminded them that their homeworld was under occupation, raiding their people’s technology.

Mason couldn’t say he understood how they felt, but he understood that it was making his soldiers antsy, and ready for a fight. They were combat engineers; they dug ‘Mech trenches and rebuilt bridges. If they had to fight, they would fight. But out here, unsupported by Battlemechs or armor, they’d need a miracle to take these guys on, and he wasn’t going to risk their lives in a show of paltry vengeance for the theft of some Terran technology. Great Houses stole from each other all the time. A few VTOLs weren’t worth dying over.

“Sir,” Sergeant Colville muttered to him, “I’m spotting lookouts with high-powered Binocs. They might be able to spot us if we don’t move.”

“Where?”

Sergeant Colville directed his attention to a mostly-intact house, which had a balcony that had been hastily repaired. A pair of soldiers were sweeping the area with telescopic binoculars similar to their own. Captain Brightman had picked experienced combat engineers who knew enough to make a decent enough ghillie suit, but they weren’t Special Forces. He wouldn’t risk them, or himself, any more than he had already.

“All right,” he sighed. He knew that this campaign was going to be a long and grueling one. He resisted the urge to rub his eyes in frustration. He had a long crawl in the woods to make, and he didn’t want to ruin his suit. The scouts signalled to each other to pack up and head back to their camp on the other side of the hills.

Contacting the rest of the unit was going to be damn near next to impossible because of the damage done by the hurricane, but that meant that the FWLM would be slowed down by the same conditions. The part that hurt, though,w as the fact that they had large, expensive pieces of equipment in the form of their Buffel dozers, each the size of a heavy tank, and nearly the same cost. The Major would fire him for losing them, but he still had the rest of his engineers to rescue. He had to make the choice between people he can rescue, and equipment he can’t. His job was worth that choice. The best thing he could do is leave them hidden, and if the FWLM found them, he would hope they didn’t care enough to take them. Who knows, maybe they’d find them again in a League depot when they finally won. Would Major Turnbull fire him if the Buffels turned up anyway? Probably; Captain Wolf needed them to build their traps.

Right now, their best bet was a Hail Mary from the La Blon Militia. The Capitol of Amadeus was far away, sure, but if they were able to get secure access to the phone system, the Militia could send reinforcements, in the form of either arriving themselves, or sending the Battalion. It was unlikely that the ComGuard would care all that much.

The issue with that had been secure access. They had no idea how much the League had infiltrated the telecommunications system, and they couldn’t just give secure codes over the civilian phone lines. He was sure they could build an encoder with the right materials, he led a Company of nerds. Most advanced electronics, however, had been bought out in the relief effort, and he simply had too many people to move in a region recently devastated by a hurricane.

Ironically enough, the closest source of what he needed most for communications lay in the beach he’d just been viewing from afar.

His second bet was, weirdly enough, the casinos of La Blon. With any luck, they had secure telecommunications for VIP clients that would be good enough for him to risk. The question was, then, if the FWLM would get there first, and if he was willing to leave his men to take that risk and make the call. They were engineers, not infiltrators. He had no good options.

Such was the life of a soldier, of course.

Once back at their jungle camp, Captain Brightman immediately went to his command tent, and his lieutenants joined him once news of his return spread. He said nothing to them, but didn’t dismiss them, either. He just stared at his maps, and finally took a moment to rub his eyes.

He laid a finger on the map of the region.

“Fathnine,” he declared.

“We’re headed there, sir?” one of his lieutenants asked.

“We don’t have a choice. We need to make contact with someone, and they’ll have secure communications for corporate clients. We go in, bribe the casinos, call for intervention or extract,” he said, “We’ll have three teams: Team A will be in plainclothes as civilians. Team B will be an intervention team to extract Team A if necessary. Team C will be secondary backup, and communique runners. Lieutenant Twanda, you’ll be in charge of the home squads. Keep the camps separate but in communication, as we have been, and keep moving as best as we can.”

“Yes, sir.”

“I’ll lead Team A. Sergeant Coville, you’ll lead Team B. Lieutenant Reed, I want you on Team C. Sergeant, your orders will be to exfiltrate if Team A is silent for three hours. Team C, your orders are to receive reports from Team B every thirty minutes. If two reports are skipped, or if Team B calls for assistance, you are to move in and exfiltrate. We’ll move into the city using our appropriated vehicles from the north, and find parking near this casino. We’ll move in, speak with the manager, and make our phone call. Questions?”

A few queries about code words and methods for communications were shared, but rhythm of the operation was fairly self-evident. They would left in the afternoon, after spending some time drilling their protocols and getting a few hours of shut-eye, taking three trucks, one for each team.

As he drove, he couldn’t get the awful feeling out of his gut as he watched the camp disappear behind him. He knew he was taking the riskiest part of this operation. He could have asked anyone to lead it, and stayed behind with the rest of the camp, but they depended on the success of contacting the rest of the unit.

If they failed, it had to be his fault. He couldn’t lay that on any of his soldiers. He wouldn’t lose another unit.

“You okay, Captain?”

“I’m fine,” he remarked. He stopped at the end of the dirt road intersection. This area still had enough road to be called such. The trucks had been deliberately covered in mud to remove any identifiers. They were all commandeered civilian vehicles anyway, so it wasn’t like they had the Eden’s Guard emblem on the doors.

During the drive, Mason turned on the radio, to hear of any news.

“Marik invasion forces continue to elude any attempts to engage them. Rumors of low-level fighting on Renaria have been reported, but the most visible campaign, thus far, has been their invasion of Elise. Humanitarian efforts in the areas affected by Hurricane Jakoby have come to a complete stop, as the Marik forces have forced the Eden’s Guard engineers into hiding. So far, no statement from the Eden’s Guard Command has been made, nor a response been delivered.”

Mason cut off the news. He had to stay focused on what was at hand. With just a glance, he could see the worry on the faces of the soldiers he’d taken with him. They would be undergunned and outmanned in any fight, with help several minutes away from even realizing there was something wrong. The truth was, their contingency plans were a joke, meant to bring comfort to the rest of the unit while they were gone. Security theater, to make it look like Captain Brightman had a plan, keep hope alive and everyone calm. The truth was, the whole operation relied on them being able to pull this off.

Two hours of silence as they drove to Fathnine. While none of its casinos held the planetary record for largest, the Fathnine casinos were among the biggest. Their Casino strip didn’t really have the glitz and glamour one would expect. Instead, it was more like a geode. From the outside, it looked like a series of office parks, full of dull, gray, brutalist buildings, to make the casinos indistinct from the actual dull, gray brutalist office parks surrounding the strip.

The gray, concrete look of downtown Fathnine worked to their advantage, as there were plenty of work vehicles that Captain Brightman was able to blend in with. He could park just about anywhere, and not look out of place. Fathnine was a city of hidden debauchery rather than outward lavishness, and to hide the excess, it was filled with actual industry and administration. A muddy pickup truck fit right in.

Stowing their sidearms in the jackets, and their unassembled rifles in a portable toolset, the three of them looked like a maintenance crew headed into an office building. The sign on the outside of the building, in bold blue letters on a gray, fake-stone billboard lamely labelled the skyscraper as, “Katzenspiel Unterhaltungseinrichtung”: Kitten-Play Entertainment Facility, or KSUE.

The reception area was as boring as the front room. There were big doors to the far left and right, and elevators right next to the receptionist’s desk, which had a man wearing a suit. A screen above him switched between prices and lists of events, the latter of which weren’t scheduled for another week. Clearly, nobody was interested in being in a casino right after a hurricane.

“Hello, Gentlemen, can I help you?” the receptionist asked. Mason approached him, and managed to get a glimpse through the big doors, spying colorful walls and an attractive man wearing cat ears holding a tray of drinks.

“Yes, I was told to speak with the manager about an inspection,” Mason pulled out a crisp business card from his pocket, declaring him as “Mason Brightman, Senior Vice President of Security Engineering, Eden’s Guard Security & Logistics Corporation.” Technically, the card wasn’t a lie; that was actually his title in the corporate side of the EGMU. It took him a while to understand why the Company had so many clerks running things, but once he understood just how much the Eden’s Guard operated as a corporate, military, political, and humanitarian entity, he appreciated the need for the heavy bureaucracy to maintain all of these things as truths, half-truths, covers, and lies. It was astounding how they managed to make so much both true and false at the same time, and how much it was helping him now.

The receptionist took the card and inspected it, seeing the colorless apple logo of the Eden’s Guard corporate brand, and the name of the company. He picked up the phone, and spoke a while in German. Mason knew enough to understand that the man was confused, and talking to his supervisor about three strange maintenance men in the lobby. After a few moments of back-and-forth, the receptionist ended the call and turned to Mason.

“Someone will be down to see you shortly.”

“Thank you,” Mason nodded, and found a seat to wait, not even trying to look relaxed, as the three of them exchanged turns looking around the lobby and out the front windows, trying to spot a tail or other threat. Two women and a man entered the lobby, playfully pushing each other and talking in Japanese, checked in, and waited for the elevator. While they giggled and exchanged jokes, the silence of the lobby weighed down as the man of the trio saw them, and tried not to stare, and failed, as the man on Mason’s right kept his eyes on them. The awkward moment expanded when the women realized their companion wasn’t laughing, and spotted the weird situation.

The elevator arrived, and a woman stepped out. The three guests stepped in, whispering to each other as the doors closed.

“Mister Brightman?” the woman called to them. The three of them stood, and Mason shook her hand, “I’m Amelia Hayter, I’m the facility manager. It’s good to meet you. Why don’t we go up to my office and talk?”

Mason looked to his men; they were tense, and keeping aware. He would get not vibes from them that wasn’t absolute vigilance’ right now. He would have to rely on his own intuition.

“Of course.”

THey entered an elevator, and rode in silence to a floor full of offices along an outward-facing wall, and a cubicle farm in the center. Her office faced the ‘parkside’, which faced the hills and the outdoor facilities, which were protected by a perimeter of seemingly ordinary buildings from someone on the other side, but from this angle were clearly arcades, shops, pools, and more gaming areas. There was a small pool party at the moment.

“I have to say, Mister Brightman, I’m surprised that Eden’s Guard approached us. But we’re always happy to accomodate La Blon’s defenders. What kind of package are you looking for?” she asked. Mason shook his head.

“We’re not looking for a vacation package-not right now, anyway,” he told her, and he gave a weak smile, “I’m actually in a bit of an emergency, and need your help, ma’am. I need access to a secure line. If you can assist me, we can get back to work, push the invaders out of your area, and you can get back to normal-or as normal as things will go these days.”

Amelia leaned forward over her desk, “Are you saying that the war has come here?”

“Since just after the hurricane, yes.”

“Dammit…” she hissed, “We can’t be involved.”

“You already are, ma’am. I’m guessing those three giggleboxes we saw when you arrived are Kuritan administrators, and are representative of your current clientele? What do you think is going to happen if Marik moves into this region unopposed?”

Amelia tapped her fingers on the table, chewing on her lip.

“And you’ll recommend us for Leave for your people, right?”

Mason couldn’t help but laugh, “You’ll be first on the list.”

“Good, I don’t want people thinking I didn’t try to make a sale on this. Times are tough as it is,” she grumbled, and she picked up her phone and started mashing buttons. When she was done, she spun it towards him, “There, line’s secure. Make your call.”

Mason punched in the phone number, and waited.

“Apple Fusion, now serving the Pina Colada Special.”

“I’d like a Happy Meal with Extra Happy, a large order of fries, and a box of fried chicken.”

“Would you like to add our Seafood Special?”

“Please.”

“All right, and where would you like your order delivered?”

“Thirty-Three Farmhouse Road.”

“Your total is going to be Forty-Two Dollars, and it should arrive in about thirty minutes.”

“Thank you, ma’am, I can smell it already.”

He hung up the phone.

“Is this some kind of prank?” Amelia asked.

“No, ma’am. I can’t give you specifics, but if you have any protocols for the safety of your guests, you should be ready to activate them soon. And needless to say, we appreciate your discretion in this matter.”

Amelia stared at him for a moment.

“Of course. I recommend taking the utility entrance on your way out, to avoid suspicion.”

“That’d be very apt. How do we get there?”

“I’ll see you out,” she led them to a different elevator, down to the first floor, and into an empty receiving garage. The streets were thankfully busy, so while they were sure to be spotted, nobody would care to note them. They got back into their dirty truck, and drove up into a pre-arranged route, where they were sure to be seen by their cover team, who would, in turn, notify the ‘C’ team. Mason let out a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding once they got onto the country roads.

A half hour into the drive, one of the soldiers hissed, “Dammit!” 

“What is it?”

“We’ve got a tail!”

“What do you mean?”

“I keep seeing the same blue SUV. They keep weaving in and out of exits, I’ve seen it five times already. It’ll be back at the next exit, you’ll see.”

Mason popped open an energy drink to quickly caffeinate himself, and was thankful that Captain Poke had gotten the Engineering department addicted to them. THe soldier that had spotted the SUV slithered out the back window, grabbing the toolkit and quickly assembled a rifle. Sure enough, once they passed the next exit, a blue SUV appeared behind them.

“Son of a bitch!” the other soldier growled, and reached for another rifle, and began assembling.

“Do I shoot, sir?” the soldier in the truckbed asked. Mason drove into the next lane; the SUV followed. He drove back; it mimed him again.

“Go for it.”

It wasn’t a Gauss rifle like the Bluehelms used. They had conventional Auto-Rifles, and even low-end armor could deflect their shots, but Mason would rather have someone shooting than not shooting in a situation like this. He rolled earbuds into his ears, just in time for the shooting to start, firing in quick three-round bursts. The window of the SUV cracked a bit, but didn’t spider-web too far; reinforced glass. Mason sped up, and the SUV accelerated even more to catch up.

“What do we have? Do we have any grenades?” the soldier in the cab said.

“They were used up making IED’s,” Mason said.

“I guess we’re going things the old fashioned way, Captain,” the soldier remarked, and he leaned out the window to also begin shooting. The SUV drove in a gentle serpentine, accelerating while trying not to flip itself at the high speeds. Mason was pushing the truck as fast as he felt he could without risking sending it into a tailspin, and the SUV was still catching up. With his off hand, he pulled out his pistol, and switched off the safety, ready to put bullets in the SUV’s tires as it started to drive up next to them during the rifles’ reloads.

Mason reached his hand out the window, and aimed down. His jaw dropped when the SUV’s window lowered, and he aimed up, hoping to hit the driver. He didn’t get the chance, however, as the passenger of the SUV tossed something into the truck’s cabin.

“GRENADE!” the soldier in the cabin screamed, and scrambled to grab it. Mason dropped his pistol, let off the accelerator, and frantically started patting around on the seat, trying to find the explosive. He felt something in his hand, and he clutched it tight.

He stopped, when he realized he didn’t feel the cold metal. He gawked at the object he’d grabbed instead of throwing it out the window, and eased onto the gas, slowing the truck before he felt safe enough to bring it to a complete stop. The soldier in the cabin let out a shriek and grabbed their head, expecting an explosion as the timer of the phantom bomb reached 0.

“It’s not a grenade!” Mason called out.

“What?”

Mason laughed, and opened his door, and flashed it to the two soldiers, “It’s not a grenade!”

He took a few steps towards the SUV, which was coming to a stop, and reversing toward them. He waved the object in his hand at them. When it reached them, Mason could see the pocket marks that their gunfire had left in the armor of the car. The SUV stopped in front of them, and the passenger window rolled down, revealing a woman in aviators and a stetson. Mason presented the Eden’s Guard Silver Star police badge to her.

“I believe you dropped this, ma’am,” he beamed.

Captain Mason Brightman
Engineering Officer, Eden’s Guard Security & Logistics Corporation
Company Commander, Dirty Devils
Buffel Engineering Support Vehicle VIII


Recovery: Maggie

3/21/3098 14:30
Eden’s Guard Operational Center
Fort Taurus, Continent of Ballay
La Blon, Kessel Prefecture, Draconis Combine

AFTER-ACTION REPORT
BATTLE OF FATHNINE

Major,

After interviewing the Dirty Devils, Lotan Company, and others involved in the fighting, it is my recommendation that we halt further humanitarian efforts on La Blon. It is clear that, currently, we do not have the operational flexibility to support the large-scale efforts of our Engineering companies if something like this were to happen again.

It seems that the Free Worlds League misinterpreted our presence in the area affected by Hurricane Jakoby, and they believed we were using the area to train ComStar infantry. Photography of our equipment leads us to believe that they believed our Buffels to be minelayers, and that the Dirty Devils were preparing the region to create a beachhead against amphibious assault. This leads me to question the quality of the Intelligence operations that the FWLM may have brought to La Blon, which I intend to use to our advantage as much as possible.

It seems that Captain Brightman was quick to comprehend the situation his Engineers were in, and quickly scuttled and hid our expensive equipment, though it’s nothing that can’t be repaired. The fact that he was able to hide what they weren’t able to bring with them so quickly, and keep track of where everything was, is a testament to his logistical expertise, and he is to be commended for protecting our assets, as well as saving nearly the entirety of our Engineering battalion.

Our response makes it clear that we need to invest more heavily into our infantry-based Special Forces. Our Quartermaster ordered from the incorrect catalog, and our Blizzard Hover APC’s were the wrong type; the Black Blizzard is an escort rather than an APC unto itself, forcing our Frogmen squads to deploy directly from our Sea Skimmers, which they were not designed for. 

Nonetheless, the combination of our coastal assets and the application of the Frogmen allowed us for quick and bloody insertion onto the coasts, and the Mariks were quick to overreact. They sent their VTOL’s after our assets, and the stealth capabilities of the Black Blizzards made quick work of them. One of the Skimmers was badly damaged, and they were forced to beach the asset to prevent it from sinking. Randall says that it will be weeks before it can swim again, especially given that our standard vehicle bays aren’t well-suited for the ships. He is working with ComStar engineers to design something custom to make future repairs and refit easier.

The Frogmen were able to get ashore while the VTOLs chased after our vessels, and were quick to identify and remove FWLM leadership, and recovered some intelligence. The timing was fortunate, as it was very clear that they were narrowing in on the Dirty Devils. Taking out the officers and destroying their communication devices was enough to convince the new commander that the operation was now a bust, and they made an escorted retreat back to Renaria.

The Dirty Devils are now recovering the scuttled equipment, and are finishing their original job in the region. However, I recommend that we redistribute them back into combat roles, as we cannot defend them if this happens again.

END OF REPORT

Leftenant Park “Maggie” Magdeline
Intelligence Officer, Eden’s Guard Security & Logistics Corporation
Chief Intelligence Officer


4/5/3098
Wolf Company Command Center, Continent of Renaria
La Blon, Kessel Prefecture, Draconis Combine

TEXT TRANSMISSION
Date: 4/5/3098
From: Captain Garrick Wolf, Eden’s Guard
To: Major Penelope Trumbull, Eden’s Guard

Greetings, Major. I hope this update finds you well. Weekly sitrep follows.

Our campaign on Renaria has proceeded as we anticipated. While we still lack the firepower to remove the Marik forces from Renaria altogether, the intelligence we’ve been able to gather from their chatter indicates that the majority of their assets are now dedicated to mitigating the damage from our raids and guarding against future raids--running just to stay in place, as it were. While some minor military action, such as that business up in Elise, has managed to slip past us, it does not seem that they will feasibly be able to launch any major attacks from their foothold here, certainly nothing that would be able to threaten our position in Fort Taurus. It’s a stalemate, but the stalemate is to our advantage.

I would like to take this opportunity to commend Leftenant Lamb’s performance. In spite of our rocky start together, I have found him to be a thoroughly capable second-in-command. His experience and discipline have been invaluable in keeping this campaign on track, all the more so given that, with our Mech and VTOL assets grounded to avoid detection, and Omega Lance largely engaging in lightning-strike attacks, Gardener Lance has been obliged to handle the brunt of the line fighting. I respectfully recommend giving Leftenant Lamb a generous raise this year.

I will be in contact next week, or sooner if anything new develops. Tell Caitir to keep her eyes on the target, and not to let those little surats get to her.

Garrick

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TEXT TRANSMISSION
Date: 4/30/3098
From: Captain Garrick Wolf, Eden’s Guard
To: Major Penelope Trumbull, Eden’s Guard

Major, we’ve had an incredible stroke of luck. During their most recent raid, Lieutenant Pace’s people were able to extract a communication log from the wreckage. Upon examining it, we’ve discovered information on a DropShip landing that’s scheduled to take place in a few hours. We’ve never had the opportunity to hit a DropShip before; shortly after our campaign began, the FWL adopted a policy of only landing their ships for as long as it took to unload their assets. I’m mobilizing the entire company for this one. Taking out that DropShip will be a significant blow.

Wish us luck, Major. I’ll update you in a few hours once the op’s completed.

Garrick

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TEXT TRANSMISSION
Date: 5/1/3098
From: Captain Garrick Wolf, Eden’s Guard
To: Major Penelope Trumbull, Eden’s Guard

We did it, Major. The FWL is down one Union-class DropShip. I had Gardener and Shade Lances stage as if making one of their usual raids, then retreat to draw off the DropShip’s defenders. We haven’t used our Mechs or VTOLs to engage the FWL since this campaign began, so I imagine they were quite surprised when we showed up. It was still a tough fight--several of the infantry are going to be laid up a while, and our Mechs are going to need a decent amount of repair work. But we did it.

The FWL seems to be drawing back and consolidating their forces at their initial landing site. I’m not sure yet if they intend to make a full retreat or not, but it certainly seems that we’ve forced them to reconsider how much they’ll be able to accomplish on Renaria. For now, we’re holding tight to see what their next move is going to be.

Oh, and would you please mention to Precentor Aarden that Adept Shiarazi quitted herself well in the fight? Ken himself commented that he didn’t know if he could’ve gotten that Bushwacker to do what she made it do. And I don’t need to tell you how rare it is for him to openly compliment somebody like that.

I’ll be in contact again as soon as we have more information. With luck, we may be seeing each other in person again before long.

Garrick

Captain Garrick “Canis” Wolf
Executive Officer, Eden’s Guard Security & Logistics Corporation
Lance Leader, Alpha Lance
SHD-5D Shadow Hawk


Anticipation: Saralee

6/2/3098 23:45
83rd ComGuard Division Deployment Headquarters
Fort Taurus, Continent of Ballay
La Blon, Kessel Prefecture, Draconis Combine

Personal Log, Terra-Date June Second, Thirty-Ninety Eight.

La Blon remains a world of welcoming people, as it always has, even under the circumstances. Conquered, liberated, reconquered, and we still end up flooded with donations from the locals. Most of it is intended for me, but I can only eat so many papayas myself. Needless to say, I won’t have to worry about restocking my fruit juice. I’m pretty sure there’s at least a dozen stills turning some of the fruit into brandy. I look forward to the confiscations.

Progress on the training is good. Better than expected. I don’t like the idea of throwing kids into this meat grinder of a war. A lot of them are from Terra, trying to get away from the propaganda, or trying to claim some kind of legacy they can call their own. They’re eager, but this tension with the students makes things strange. I’ve never had recruits this...Resistant to the teachings of Blake. I’m worried that we’re teaching a generation of warriors how to work our technology, with no real loyalty to ComStar. Then again, I’m not sure we have a choice. I think once they get blooded against House Marik, they’ll be too focused on that to be angry with us.

Major Trumbull is a mixed blessing. The Mercenaries came in to augment our forces, but they’re driving the fight. It’s just been skirmishes on the ground, though the Assault Dropships are playing hide-and-seek with the Uther, and it has me worried how long House Marik is going to wait before just blasting our base from orbit. But the Mercenaries insist on teaching, too, and they’re filling the students’ heads with ideas of grandeur and glory, nostalgia for the Star League. Even the ones not from Terra are wondering why it isn’t around anymore. I’ll have to get them a taste of what ComStar can do.

I’m particularly impressed, though with their Captain Wolf. This Clanner managed to take out one of their Dropships. I can only imagine the embarrassment they’re going through after a loss like that. Either it will be a turning point, or an escalation. Either way, the next battle will be a bloody one.

Precentor VI Saralee Aarden
Commanding Officer, 83rd ComStar Battalion


Failure: William Childs

7/22/3098 06:30
2nd Free Worlds Legionnaires Headquarters
Atria Prime
Atria V, Duchy of Terra, Free Worlds League

General Childs turned on the recorder, stared at the camera, and stopped the recording again. He took a breath; he’d practiced this. He was too old for this job. He reached over, and started recording again.

“General Crineanu, I have unfortunate news in regards to the Draconis Campaign. What I was sure to be a major victory for us has become a major setback. In the last two years, we have been keeping the Draconis Combine on the retreat, and punishing ComStar for their interference. In particular, the 4th ComGuard Army has been a major nuisance for us. A core aspect of the 4th Army is the 83rd Battalion. They had been attached to a Kuritan Division, which we had managed to utterly destroy in a previous battle, and we severely weakened the 83rd in the fighting, but they got away, fleeing to La Blon, which is this resort world that the Lyrans and Dracs have been fighting over since before the fall of the Star League.

“I deployed the 2nd Armored Battalion--my old unit, under the command of Force Commander Dion--but the Navy decided, in its wisdom, to deploy the Uther, under the command of Commodore Christine Finn, which created a conflict in the command structure, and Commodore Finn controlled all space-bound assets. The Commodore felt that winning the space battle was of greater importance, and was unwilling to use her considerable firepower to assist the taking of La Blon. To be fair, I don’t believe that firing on La Blon would have done us any favors, but I affirm that the battle for La Blon was a gross misapplication of expensive and valuable equipment, and I recommend that the Commodore be reprimanded for her failure to secure a ground victory.

“Upon landing on the planet’s surface, we were immediately confronted with a problem in the form of the mercenary unit Eden’s Guard, who you might remember as being at the center of the Ohrensen debacle. Apparently they’re determined to remain a thorn in our side; they anticipated our deployment and counter-deployed in advance of us, so from day one we were facing an ongoing, coordinated harassment campaign that steadily bled us of personnel, equipment, and supplies that should have been going towards an offensive against the ComGuards.

“About a month and a half ago this culminated in what we thought was a routine raid on a supply drop turning into a full-blown mechanized assault on the dropship, ending in its destruction as well as the thorough shattering of the forces we had defending it--a lance each of Mechs and armored infantry. Clearly their deployment had been in excess of what we had realized up to that point; at least one lance of Mechs with air support, in addition to their battle armor.

“More concerning was the second assault made in an attempt to secure La Blon. Despite the campaign to deny space access by destroying early warning satellites and cornering resistance, little was actually done to deal with ComStar’s Assault Dropships, and so we were unable to achieve Aerospace supremacy. This second assault was much more ambitious and larger in scale, focused on capturing the planetary capital of Amadeus. In the past, the La Blon Militia has kept out of invasion attempts, and so we anticipated that they would not get involved this time.

“However, we overestimated their independence, and it seems that we crossed a line in the battle. Our forces believed that, by taking the capital, we would end political unity on La Blon by undermining the Kuritan occupational governor. Then, we would have been able to put the old Lyran Governor in charge, under our control, painting us as liberators. However, no sooner did we land then the La Blon Militia attacked our landing sites, delaying our progress towards the city, and preventing us from fully deploying our non-Mech assets, which would have been essential to taking and holding Amadeus.

“Complicating the battle with the Militia was the fact that they were remarkably well-armed for a planetary Militia. Certainly, the Lyran investment into the planet, coupled with the plentiful salvage from the constant fighting on La Blon in the last twenty years has given them the chance to invest heavily in local defenses, and we were unprepared to face an additional ‘Mech force.

“Even so, we had the La Blon Militia outnumbered and outgunned, but they weren’t fighting a battle to defeat us, only allow their offworld guests to come to their assistance. Frustratingly, it was the Eden’s Guard that arrived first, landing a Company of ‘Mechs, Aerospace, and artillery within a day of our landing. Our first attempt to send soldiers and tanks into Amadeus was thwarted by a Clan variant of the Highlander, armed with an anti-Personnel Gauss Rifle, and supported by lighter Battlemechs.

“I go into this detail about these mercenaries, General, because they are deeply connected to the prewar Terran military. Major Trumbull had been a leading member of the Terran Defense Force before its dissolution, and she and her associates have been vocal critics of the annexation of Terra. It is certain that this will not be the last time we encounter the Eden’s Guard.

“The day after, the 83rd ComGuard Division was able to deploy their Battlemechs via high-altitude drop. The Uther was brought into low orbit to engage the Assault Dropships, but despite the naval firepower advantage, it was clear that we were out-positioned on the ground. Commodore Finn, seeing the damage that the 2nd Armored were taking, wisely positioned her vessel to ensure that the remnants of Force Commander Dion’s Battlemechs were able to escape and return to orbit. Unfortunately, Force Commander Dion did not survive his duel with the Mercenary’s Assault ‘Mech. I have put forth my recommendations for his succession, attached to this report.”

General Childs took a deep breath, and thought for a moment. This was as far as he’d written.

“I’m disheartened to have presided over the costliest failure of the Terran expansion campaign. I know that it won’t be laid at my feet, it’ll be turned into propaganda about ComStar supporting an illegal occupation of a Lyran world, or something like that. That doesn’t change the fact that one of our heavier Regiments has lost over a Battalion’s worth of equipment and people, including the Regimental CO, in a four-day battle, which met none of its objective, on top of losing a Dropship, and seeing three more being heavily damaged.

“We gathered little information on the 83rd Division’s activities on La Blon; it’s not a particularly scientifically relevant world. However, what little we were able to gather, it’s clear that they were using La Blon as a frontline depot of some kind, receiving new equipment and personnel. The Uther did well in preventing them from receiving these shipments, but this isn't an endeavor with committing the vessel to for the duration. A counter attack is inevitable, and it will happen with or without the 83rd. Their equipment and personal will simply end up somewhere else.

“I fear this is a poor turning point for the League. I know you have the Captain-General’s ear. Take La Blon's example as you will. I, for one, would like to lean on my best student's wisdom once again on how to proceed. In the meantime, I serve the League.

“General William Childs, signing off.”

General William Childs
Commanding Officer, 2nd Free Worlds Legionnaires
Terra NorthCom