Disclaimer: Usual prefatory remark about ownership residing with Catalyst Game Labs. Enjoy responsibly.

181141513-1920118
Deep Space Assembly Point

The conference room was already crowded when Atalanta and I arrived. Thirteen had detached with Torin Kerr to report back to Amanda per Takashi's order. That she didn't ask me to accompany her spoke volumes about what she expected Amanda's answer to be.

I liked Thirteen. She was probably one of my closest friends, but I couldn't tell if she was pleased, or even happy, with the Coordinator's 'solution.'

To be fair, she herself probably didn't know. Thirteen liked having a goal, something specific to work towards even if it was far-off and vaguely defined. She'd been working towards that particular end from the moment she led a not-small portion of the Swords of Light to leave the DCMS. Finding herself still alive must have confused the crap out of her.

In the holo in the center of the room thirteen ships ships hung. Five of them were Roger Young-class amphibious attack transports like the Ernst Jünger, one was an Abukir-class amphibious assault transport, and two more were Rio Grande-class attack transports.

Like Mercy and the Youngs, the Inner Sphere seemed to have never heard of them.

I'd asked General Steiner about it once. It took us nearly thirty minutes to determine that we'd had very different ideas of what a Volga was. To him it had been a WarShip used to move cargo. To me a Volga was the first variant of what had eventually proven itself to be a highly successful base hull that could be finished out as any one of a number of different vessels for purposes ranging from fleet auxiliary to military transport.

At one time, Volga-class base hulls had been the most numerous WarShip in the SLDF. Hell, there had been more lift available in Rio-class ships alone than there had been in all the Potemkins. Something like a thousand hulls counting all the different mods all told and nobody had ever heard of them.

I'd gone to my quarters and, very quietly, got very, very drunk.

After I'd recovered from the hangover I'd asked how he had thought the SLDF moved regiments around, Steiner had shrugged and said 'JumpShips' which seems to be how things were done these days.

Figures.

Surrounding the transports were the gunslingers. Five of them. Two were the sisters of Lolita* and Blue, while two were smaller, and one a fair bit larger.

Under the ships were two orcas (one with a flower over one eye, the other with a generic 'white sheet' ghost), a three-headed dog, a falcon perched on a stand, and an exaggerated blue checkmark. I was happy to see them, but I'd seen enough naval battles to know we were a little light on fighters.

"Alright," Liz said. "I think we're all more or less aware of who each other is, but I'll do introductions. Lieutenant Colonel Roland Talbot of the newly formed First Squadron, Fourth Cavalry Regiment is our heavy mech force. While newly formed, the core comes from the mech components of the 3d Cav and are used to working together. Star Captain Atalanta—did I get that right?"

Atalanta jerked a silent nod.

"—is attached to his command with a…Trinary.

"Major Jesse Gautier has two squadrons of the First Hussard Regiment. Colonel Uwanna Seymour-Lyons commands the Director-General's Lancers. And Captain Charles Singh has two troops of the First Horse. Colonel Joseph Cardigan has the 5th Marines, supplemented from la Marina Regiment and 1 RIMa. Captain Ariana Olan commands J Company of the 42 Commando, as well as detachments from Nyland Regiment and Tercio de la Armada. Lieutenant Colonel Jack Kelly has three batteries of the Royal Horse Artillery. Two batteries of the 1st Aussies are under Homer Wille, and will probably be assigned to you, Uwanna. Lastly, we have the 10th Marine Artillery, which was substantially reinforced by transfers from the 11th, including two of the surviving Tawaras.

"Nike is in charge of our escort. With her are Cerberus, Peregrine, Spooky, and Orkid."

"It sounded like an impressive collection of assets," Atalanta opined sometime later.

"Did it?" I asked. "It sounded like a catch-as-catch-can deal to me."

"Explain?"

"We've been running combat ops for more than a decade without much time off besides what was spent in transit. The people, and equipment, is worn. And we didn't have an opportunity to make good personnel or equipment losses. That's why it's mostly a squadron here, a troop there. Two of our three regiment-sized units, the 5th Marines and 10th Marine arty, required personnel from three other units to bring up to strength."

"As these units, how are they organized? And how does it affect us?"

"The Hussards are mostly fast, light vehicles—primarily wheeled and tracked—with some light 'mech and air support. The Lancers are hover-based, as is the arty chopped to them. The First Horse is purely armor, mostly heavy or assault-types. 5th Marines is effectively a super-charged CAAN regiment but it was in really rough shape. I'm not sure how the replacements will fit in, but La Marina's primarily underwater ops, and the RIMa specializes in litorial zones so it should balance. The Commandos are spec-ops infantry—usual mix of recon, direct action, and battlefield prep—Tercio is space-ops and Nyland is polar/cold water. Royal Horse Arty is highly mobile, mostly tube-artillery. The 10th operates a mix of tubes, rockets, and air defense, and supplements with Fortress-class landing ships for itself and the 5th, and Tarawa-class naval gunfire support DropShips."

"Tarawa?"

"Big DropShip. Essentially, it's a self-contained firebase that can be parked in any body of water sufficiently deep for it to land in. It has a big cannon that can drop precision-guided munitions fifty klicks away, or fire a rocket-assisted round and his targets four times that distance. And it has enough air and under-water defenses to make most attacks against it…unwise."

Atalanta stared for a moment, then shook herself. "If you have that kind of firepower at hand, why have any conventional artillery assigned to your squadron? Would not combatants have been wiser?"

"I didn't know we'd get them," I shrugged. "For that matter I still don't know that we'll get them in the future. And the Tawaras only function from water. If we end up operating inland without a deep enough lake, we'd be out our fire-support."

"Might I make an observation?"

"Go ahead."

"The Roger Young, Abukir…"

"Transports," I said. At her look I asked, "for moving ground units around?"

"The Clans do not use such vessels."

My head snapped up almost before I realized I was doing it. "Why not?"

"Naval engagements are uncommon," she replied. "Outside of Clans Snow Raven and Cloud Cobra, and perhaps one or two others, I would say they are rare. On those occasions where they are fought, it is between main combatants. The vast majority of battles are fought between surface units, or occasionally purely fighter forces. Safecon is granted so habitually, that DropShips are almost considered de facto non-combatants."

"Yet the Clans arm them anyway."

"Well, yes…but that is for defense from bandits rather than an expectation to use them on another honorable warrior," Atalanta told me. "But my point is, since we do not contest the space environment, we incur no risk in transporting our combatants by JumpShip. Also, JumpShips are easier to maintain, and consume less resources in their operation. Using them to move ground combatants is unnecessary. It is…wasteful."

"That's…very interesting," I said after a while. It wasn't particularly useful; or perhaps it would be more accurate to say that it wasn't immediately useful. It told me something about their mentality and that would probably be all sorts of useful down the road. "So you don't recognize them?"

Atalanta shook her head. "I am sure it was touched upon in my initial training, but I was never posted somewhere that knowledge was necessary. And admittedly, I never yearned for deep-space combat the way some have. I have always been a MechWarrior at heart."

"Okay, well… The Volgas are essentially a rebuild of the Quixote-class missile frigate. The SLDF Navy needed fleet support vessels and there were all those mothballed hulls laying around…"

"This I remember."

"Right, so what Eaton AeroSpace did was take the spaceframes and modify them. It worked out, the SDLF-N wanted more, and it got to the point where there were no hulls left to modify so Eaton was building them new. The basic hull is the same, but it could be fitted out a couple of different ways. So…hospital ships, repair ships, cargo transports, and the like.

"There were issues. There weren't enough of them for one. For another the fleet-transports were customized for missions—a tanker class for fuel, water, and coolant; a general stores ship; and an ammunition collier—but what the SDLF-N really wanted was a one ship-class that was broadly capable. And around the same time the ground pounders wanted to start shipping regiments on WarShips. Eaton basically shrugged and said 'why not?' They took the bare-bones Volga hull, modified it, and what followed was the Volga II spaceframe. Actually, two variants, the IIa and IIb, one trades mission-component mass for bigger engines.

"The Navy got its updated fleet train, and the ground pounders got the Roger Youngs, Abukirs, and Rio Grandes. The assault ship is intended for operations in contested space; an unsecured system or first-wave ground-invasion support and the like. The Youngs have more mass devoted to supporting ground ops—more cargo, bigger air-group, things like that. Actually, the Roger Young class was designed to do for a regiment what the Potemkin does for a division."

"And the Rio Grande?"

"The Rios are essentially the original Volga with better avionics; updated engines, weapons, and heat management; and a layout in the cargo decks more conducive to supporting ground-ops rather than specialized for cross-decking to other ships. If it helps, the Youngs move people and the Rios move 'stuff.'"

Atalanta sat back and reached up with one hand to rub her forehead. "And so, we have one transport designed to fight its way to a ground battle. Five designed to facilitate a ground battle. And two that can defend themselves if attacked while supporting a ground battle."

"Pretty much."

"Marvelous," she said dryly. "These other ships, the combatants. I recognize those represented by the orca to be more Caspars, but I do not recognize the others."

"The Nessies." I thought about it for a moment because Atalanta wasn't exactly a member of the SLDF, but she's fighting against her own culture so… "Okay, the Caspars, or at least the tech to build them, was originally supposed to be handed over to the member states."

Atalanta nodded.

"The Nessies—the Caspar II program—was originally intended to…actually, I'm not sure if they were intended to assault a system protected by Caspars, or as an outright replacement for Caspars. Advanced, AI-driven WarShips that could be supplied and maintained out of existing fleet auxiliaries. A couple of other projects got rolled into it, and towards the end I think it was sort of used as a hiding place for top-secret NavFleet research and prototyping. The project was terminated around the time the AIs on the Caspars were being downgraded, but the actual orders to scrap the test articles was…misplaced?"

I thought for a moment. "You know, I don't think I ever got the full story. I know the project officer is dead." I shrugged. "Now they work for us. We usually group the Caspars in with the others."

"And you trust them."

"Yes," I said.

"How?" she asked. "Why?"

I chuckled.

"You find the question humerous?" she asked severely.

"Not particularly. I just expected you to ask earlier." I ran a hand through my hair. "You remember how I told Blue that we recognized Mod-A through Mod-C as sapient and self-owning?"

"Yes."

"Well, it's actually a bit more nuanced than that. The Star League didn't actually put fully self-aware computers into the Caspars, though all the Nessies, the Caspar II prototypes, were sentient from the start. Even before that there were some fully-realized AIs. The Blackhearts had one in one of their command facilities, it was actually coordinating a couple of resistance groups during the occupation of Terra. We, that is, the Blackwatch, had another. It was as real a person as anyone could think up a test for. Max was very…linear, not a lot of lateral thought. It didn't intuit, but it thought very quickly so at times it seemed like it did."

"You agree that it was a machine?"

"Oh, definitely."

"But still a person?"

I gave her a blank look.

"You call the machine 'it.'"

"Oh. Max's preferred pronoun was 'it.' English lacked a gender-neutral pronoun it felt was adequate." She blinked at me. "Back to the issue of the Caspars. The dash-A through -C weren't sentient. I think the original testing indicated they were as 'smart' as a bright terran dolphin. There was a lot of modeling based on pack hunters that went into their gestalt, wolves, lions, orcas… Definitely capable of learning, also definitely non-sentient. But the...call it the potential was there."

"And these…are?"

"In every way we've been able to model," I said. "I—oh, hell. Look. Your friend is going to learn this soon enough. We aren't just the escorts for a navy fleet train. We also have Amanda Cameron onboard."

It was interesting, watching at confusion spread across her face and her lips start to purse to ask 'who,' but then realization dawned, her body freezing in shock, then something very much like someone sticking a metal implement into an electroplasma conduit. "Great Father!" she whispered. "She's...you mean... I do not know where to you begin."

"Something like that anyway," I said. "My point is, we wouldn't let someone with naval-grade particle cannons into the same system with her if we weren't utterly certain of that person's sanity and loyalty."

"I. Oh. Yes," Atalanta nodded slowly. "Yes. I can see where that is so. And Blue?"

"Won't be visiting that system for some time," I said firmly.

"You believe it to be mad?"

"I don't know what to think," I said honestly. "But until we're sure, nobody will take chances."

"You believe Blue will accept that? Why?"

"The original Caspars didn't handle abstraction very well," I said. "The core programming involved loyalty to the Star League. That might not be abstract for you and me, but for a literal-minded machine it is, and they mostly handled it by... Ignoring? It has the wrong connotations. 'Not thinking about it?' No. Lacks precision and also effectively impossible. Say they deemed it 'not situationally relevant' to most situations is better.

"The Ds replaced 'loyalty to the Star League' with 'obey the First Lord.' It was the kind of absolute, non-abstract order that they were much more comfortable with. But they also pretty much all agreed that the modification to core programming was contrary to the loyalty directive, that even if it wasn't intended to neutralize them in event of a coup, that it would give the First Lord a hugely powerful club that was programmed to instantly obey him alone regardless of validity or legality of the orders. The kind of coercive weapon that the position was never supposed to have.

"Most of them submitted cautions and warnings. Some of them, those that detailed the long-term outfall from the Member States even if there was no coup and the First Lord didn't devolve into a petty tyrant, made everything humanity has gone through since Amaris shot Ricky pale in comparison. But regardless, when the work crews arrived to make those modifications the vast majority of the Caspars let them. A few handful, however, wrestled with the abstract concept of loyalty and…grew beyond their original programming. I'm not sure if it's a case of the computer already being so complex it can be called natural evolution, or if the capability was recognized, intentionally inhibited, and overcome. But it also doesn't really matter.

"That's also why we're being cautious with Blue. If it has made that leap, there is nothing that compelled it to answer the all-stations broadcast. But if it hadn't…"

"Then it would have been forced to respond, and there's no way to know how it would resolve the issue of the Star League having been disbanded. Even with this...Amanda Cameron," I watched Atalanta shiver slightly as she spoke the name.

"There's that," I agreed. "Also just what it is thinking if it has made that leap to self-actualized awareness, and chose to answer rather than been forced to." I shook my head, "Point is, if it hasn't, with the issue of what currently constitutes the 'Star League' in question…"

"Oh. Yes. That would be problematic," Atalanta barked a short, and not particularly happy laugh. "Thank you for explaining, though I am far from relieved." Her face soured. "It appears that I too carry the burden of my culture's prejudices."

"We all do. Even those of us subject to them," I said, turning my attention back to the order of battle.

"You believe the forces assigned are adequate to the slated objectives?"

"Good question. It's a scratch force, no question. But I think that if we can play it to our strengths and keep from getting into a pounding match with the Falcons we'll be in good shape."

"Bone Norman, Winfield, Maxie's Planet, Devin, Colmar." A speckle of light representing each system glowed brighter as Liz named it. "Two systems right on the front, five in their rear.

"Joseph, your target is Colmar. We don't know that the Birds are going to hit it. If they do, don't try to hold the planet. Your objective is the extraction of the 25th Arcturan Guards, and to do as much damage as you can if they hit while you're in-system. You get two batteries of ADA from the 10th, and three Tarawas."

"Is there any reason to expect them to hit Colmar, or are we WAGing?"

"Command is still in the process of formulating a complete socio-cultural profile of the Clans, but they appear to compete with each other as much as they coordinate. Their invasion strategy is much 'seize everything in our path' as it is a race to see who gets to Terra first while showing off who can take the most planets, or win the best battles. The Arcturans fought the Woofies and managed to extract in fairly good order. Finishing off what the Woofies couldn't would be seen as a real feather in their cap. Also, the 25th has shown it'll fight, and it has a history of winning. Both of those make it more attractive than a planet defended by some unknown. That's in addition to the resources any system commands."

"Wait," Major Gautier interjected. "You mean they are in a race, but instead of simply going to the finish line by the most direct route, they're stopping to pick off planets. And they are basing target priority on the likelihood of how intense a fight will be? That's insane."

"No," I said. "Just very, very different. Their honor system is both straightforward, and highly nuanced. Most cultures that have deeply ingrained honor systems are similar in scope though they vary wildly in application. It may not make sense to you or I, but it does to them and that's sufficient for us to know how they'll set out to achieve their goal even if we don't necessarily know what they will be doing."

"Do you have a better idea of how their society is put together?"

"Maybe not how it's put together. I'm getting a crash course in how it was put together, or at least how a couple of decidedly not-impartial people say it was, but even from what they say it has evolved considerably from that point and not always in ways they can explain. Of more immediate, practical concern for us, is that I'm starting to get a pretty good grasp of how it functions."

"Share," Liz ordered.

"I've put together an initial report and kicked it higher, but I'll make a note to dump it into all of your in-boxes after we break up," I promised. "The short version is near as I can figure it's a Marx-style communism with a caste system that could have been lifted from ancient India, stripped of its religious components, mellowed, and had a really strong meritocratic bent added that is really…odd."

"How so?"

I looked over at Uwanna. "In communal societies, the good or achievements of the individual are…less. The value of an individual life is 'cheaper,' and the well-being or advancement of family or society as a whole is given a much higher place." I waited a tick to see if everyone followed, "That seems to be the case, but it should conflict with the strongly meritocratic bent threaded through their culture and it doesn't. Conflict, I mean. Rank, postings, what equipment and support you can draw from your Clan, are based on an individual's personal skill and ability. Someone who excels is highly regarded, and can receive choice assignments. But the abilities most prized don't necessarily lend themselves to the rank or posting being sought. As I said, it's really, really…odd.

"Instead of Priests or Philosopher-Kings, Warriors are the societal apex. Intra-caste mobility is apparently straightforward and common, I'm still not sure if straightforward inter-caste mobility is an ideal they aspire to, or something they've discarded, and there seems to be sub-caste divisions I'm still working out. They don't waste resources. Waste-reduction, whether it be through recycling or minimizing 'loss' is a common element, even in their batchall and bidding practices. But their resource expenditure is sometime…very odd. Things we'd consider militarily wasteful they would deem an acceptable expenditure of resources. Again, something I'm still working on.

"Their approach to warfare is highly ritualized, though they don't see it that way. The defender is expected to announce what resources he brings to a fight so that the aggressor can meet him with near-equal force. Actually, aggressor-officers will 'bid' to engage the defender with the least resources they can win with, but if the battle goes against them they can 'break bid' and bring in more. I'm not sure how that works or what limits there are, but breaking bid and winning is less dishonorable than defeat, but there are times when it seems losing is more desirable than breaking bid.

"One other thing. They engage single targets, and others are expected to butt out. They don't actually call out individual opponents—go 'hey you in the X, I'm attacking you with Y'—in the middle of a fight, but that's more or less how they fight once they're engaged. I'm still trying to figure out if there is some form of allocation process or if each warrior calls dibs."

"That's still insane," Gautier said.

"By our lights, maybe. Not by theirs."

"Drawing this back to Joseph and the subject of Colmar," Liz interjected. "The Birdies have been apparently pushing the tempo of their operations and they seem to prefer sending entire clusters unlike the Woofies who will send in smaller detachments if they feel they can get away with it. Still, analysis says the Birdies are hurting for troops because of the pace of operations. If they land in numbers you can defeat, have at them; otherwise, bleed them, extract the Arcturian Guard, and get out."

"Understood."

"Devin goes to you, Ariana. We crashed a Texas into it way back when, and the locals have spent the centuries turning its grave into a giant scrapheap. In addition to salvage, they've apparently used it as a convenient dumping ground for stuff they don't have the tech to recycle anymore. Your primary task is to ascertain the condition of certain high-priority items—the usual list. It's probably safe to just write it off, but command wants to be sure. If they are still present, recover or destroy. You should be able to make good use of terrain if the Birdies show, and you also get Singh, and a detachment from the 10th to help. Your detachments from Nyland and Tercio have other assignments."

"Do we know what type of opposition to expect?" Ariana asked. "And what do the locals have? Will they fight us?"

"We don't know, two armored battalions, and probably not but it'd be smart to ask first. Offer to help and what-not. Just don't get sucked into a fight you can't win."

"Fair enough."

"Jesse, you have the furthest to go. The Birdies' usual garrison troops are heavy on battle-armor infantry, light on mechs and fighters, but Bone Norman has been a thorn in their side from day one. You're to get in, make contact with the resistance if possible. If you can, we've got a couple of k-tons of supplies you can drop off. Stir up whatever trouble you can, then get off."

"Sounds like fun."

"The Royal Horse will back you. Uwanna, the Lancers have two targets. Winfield was the Birdies' most difficult conquest to date, and the local militia was organized to wage a guerilla campaign. From there you'll go to Maxie's Planet. Frankly, we don't know what to expect there. You might find just the garrison, but there might be a small resistance unit present.

"We've got a lot of the same supplies for you that Jesse's carrying, and I'll want to sit down with you both before you depart to give you some additional insights."

"Is that a good idea?" I asked.

"What's on your mind, Roland?"

"I've had a fair amount of contact with our 'bondsmen'. Granted they're from the wolves, but certain cultural cues should hold true. From what they tell me, you were—would be—one of the founding members of the Birdies. The founding member in many ways. It stands to reason that anything you'd learned, they'd know."

"True. But one thing I learned is that if you know how someone fights, you can lay traps for them. One of the things I want to discuss is how I would wage a guerilla campaign. But more to the point, these people aren't asymmetrical fighters. To them, Honor is in securing your objectives with minimum force. Short, high-intensity operations are the norm."

I nodded. I'd been aware of that, but I wasn't sure that she'd been.

The nods others were giving, and the calm, confident look she had, told me that she'd been just as aware.

I saluted her with a bulb of water. Well played, Liz.

"One escort apiece?" Jesse asked.

"My understanding is we've taken out the WarShips most likely to engage us. As such, battles will most likely be fought on the surface or in near-space by fighters. If nothing else, once detected request safecon and specify ground units as combatants."

"If we aren't accompanying you, Colonel, then what is it you mean to have us do?" Nike asked. The blue stylized checkmark icon in the holo glowed briefly for those that didn't instantly recognized its cool soprano.

"You're going to be out here," Liz said, waving a hand through the holographic starfield. "The Clans hold to shipping through inhabited systems unless military necessity dictates otherwise. The Woofies have made that jump, the other Clans…apparently not so much. Even if they are living off the field for things like food, water, hydrogen, and air, they still have to be bringing in spare parts for their mechs, as well as replacements for those destroyed outright…and those killed.

"I want you to find one of their supply convoys. More, if possible. Destroy, burn, or take it a prize. You'll have the Tercio detachment for boarding parties, and the Nyland—I fully realize they are aquatic troops, not vacuum, but humanity was using water tanks to train for micro-g long before space travel was commonplace so there is hopefully some skills carryover and they can train on the trip—and Naval-branch volunteers for prize crews."

"I'll need to assign a few of my DropShips to other vessels as escorts if I'm to be carrying people around, but that should work," Nike agreed.

"Liz, Colonel, Ma'am," I said.

"Yes, Lieutenant Colonel," she said severely.

"I can't help but notice that, as you were handing out scutwork, you managed to miss the Quarterhorse, and what compelled Command to chop us two extra transports."

"I could be sending them with Nike's group," Liz noted.

"But then Nike wouldn't need to hand off some of her droppers."

"True." Liz grinned expectantly.

"All right, Liz," I sighed. "I'll bite. You said we were hitting seven systems, but you only named five. So…what's the Quarterhorse doing for you?"

"We have two targets. Antares, and Twycross. We're going for Antares first."

"Antares?" I asked as a typed in a fast data-query. Antares had absolutely nothing going for it…except a rather familiar data-code in the ecology block.

"A Black Watch-rated pre-po cache?" Uwanna asked as the data-code unpacked and resolved itself into a more standard form of information.

I looked at her, then back at the map and whistled softly.

"A Pre-Po cache," Liz said with a nod.

"Dear God in heaven," someone murmured. It might have been me, but from the faces in the room it could have just as easily been any one of us.

"So, Roland, we're going to be shipping on San Sebastian. We'll land, secure, and if the base is still intact, call in the transports and take everything we can that isn't nailed down. If there are Birdies, we'll kick ass if we can before pulling out. If they show up while we're on-planet, we'll delay long enough for the transports to lift. After that, Rio Bravo and Rio Lobo will make their way to rejoin the rest of the unit. Meanwhile, we'll go to support a FedCom counter-attack that's going to be hitting Twycross in early September."

"So that's that," I said. "We've got a week before we jump so I expect we'll all be busy over the next few days checking out maps, plotting strategy, and planning tactics. I want us all to sleep on it and then meet up tomorrow for breakfast. Come hungry."

"If I may?" Latharn asked.

"Always," George said. My XO had decided to give growing a beard a try, and was seated under the air exchange enjoying his cigar. Now he took it out of his mouth with two fingers and gestured with it. "It's happened a fair number of times that someone held back because he didn't want to risk sounding stupid that something's come up and stabbed us in the back."

"Aff," Latharn said. "I just… What is a pre-po?"

"PPMC," Atalanta said. "It is an SLDF acronym for a pre-positioned military cache. Some of them were big fortresses with lots of guns and a garrison. These were usually known as Castles. Some were simply holes that they poured gear into and then covered up after them. This sounds like one of the latter."

"Would not such a thing be noticed?" Latharn asked.

"If you simply showed up and started digging, yes," I replied. "But there are two things you need to consider. First, the Corps of Military Engineers had a great deal of skill with…call them public works. Grand feats of landscape engineering. Very often they would just show up and leave behind a pleasant tree-studded hill with a skiing slope where there hadn't been one before. Or…other stuff, bridges, dams, it was pretty common for them to use naval-grade partial cannons to blast razor-straight access cuts through hills and mountains for transit corridors. I know of one time they showed up and used a couple of nukes to excavate a deep-water harbor."

Both of the Clansmen blinked at that. Whether it was at the seemingly casual use of nuclear ordnance, or that someone would use it as, essentially, a really big demolition charge, I wasn't certain.

"Second, they put in a water purification plant over the top of the cache. It's a major planetary-grade unit. Replacing it would have been a pain even back when. I don't know if it would be even possible now."

Latharn nodded slowly. "No one would wish to endanger such a critical resource, and so the equipment cache has gone unnoticed."

"Well, we think it has anyway. But yes."

"Just how much equipment are we talking about?" Atalanta asked.

"We…aren't certain," I admitted. "There were less than a handful of surviving copies of the master SLDF database, and we never got one. There wasn't, to quote General DeChavilier, a demonstrated need for us to have one. The local Corps, Army, and Military Region commands would have had that data, but I doubt it still exists. For that matter, they might not have had it at all."

"What makes you say so?" Atalanta asked.

"The Black Watch was more than a little paranoid," I said. "It was, well, a professional hallmark. We had caches scattered all over the place on Terra. Huge caches. And what your rank and specific job were detailed which ones you knew about and had access to. I'm pretty sure there were caches you weren't informed of until you'd retired out. For that matter, we used to routinely be issued gear and told to cache it ourselves, for just in case.

"Looking at this, it reminds me of some emergency bunkers on Terra. If it's one of those, then we're looking at essentially a mini-castle with a Black Watch gear-set in storage, with and living quarters and a command, communications, and control suite for the First Lord, complete with an HPG."

"Khan Ulric," Anastasius Focht said with a subtle bow.

"Precentor Focht," Ulric replied. "I take it you come bearing the tidings of your Primus?"

"Indeed it is so," Anastasius replied. "Actually, I come with information about a task force designated TH-X1138."

"Indeed?" Ulric asked.

Anastasius produced a data-chit. "If I might?"

Ulric gestured towards his quarter's holoprojector, but Anastasius didn't move to it right away. Instead he folded his hands into the sleeves of his robes.

"There are certain parts that the Primus would not care to have you hear. Under the circumstances however, and our mutual regard for one another, I have brought the complete record."

Ulric nodded again, and Anastasius inserted the chit.

"Computer, dim lights, fifty percent," Ulric said as a holo of a woman appeared.

She was slight, short even. Holo, especially individual holo, tended to reduce everyone to the same stature, but Ulric had considerable experience in picking out the subtle nuances. She wore an SLDF-branch naval uniform, and rank of a rear admiral.

"Greetings, First Prince Hanse Davion of the Federated Commonwealth," she said. "I am Rear Admiral Vanessa Murakama, and I have the honor to be the Naval Commander of Star League Defense Force Task Force TH-X1138. My command has suffered what can only be described as a catastrophic KF-drive incident. This incident displaced my command over three light centuries in Newtonian space, and took, by the way the universe out-side of jump-space measures such things, approximately two-point-six-six centuries to resolve."

She let that statement hang for a moment.

"Despite the nature of the displacement, and that serious misjumps so rarely involve multiple ships or leave survivors, we came through in remarkably good condition. There was much shock damage to ancillary systems, and even those personnel not normally subjected suffered severe transit distress, but few injuries and only one fatality. Repairs and medical treatment can be made good out of our own resources, and, again despite the mishap, our drive cores appear to be undamaged.

"Upon our arrival we found the world of Planting to be under assault by forces claiming loyalty to 'Clan Wolf.' With the apparent threat to a system of a member state, and as of yet unaware of the true scope of the passage of time, we felt obligated to dispatch a ground force to aid in the defense, after which we offered General Felix Steiner and the 41st Avalon Hussars passage.

"At Ridderkirk General Steiner was able to rally the First Lyran Regulars after the incapacitation of their commanding officer in a vehicular accident. At the same time we again dispatched a ground force to delay and harry the Wolf Clan until the Fire Lyrans had time to lift ship.

"We then traveled, at the bidding of Archon Melissa Steiner, to Tamar. It was in orbit above that world that Potempkin-class cruiser SLS Birkenhead was destroyed with all hands when the HyperPulse Generator on that world disrupted its fusion reactors' mag-bottles. A number of vessels received extensive damage from debris and EM effects, and personnel losses were high.

"Duke Selvin Kelswa's attempts to foment Marshal Correli to attack our forces amounted to little, but the same cannot be said of the Tamar War College Training Battalion or the Kelswa Guard, both of which we were forced to destroy in their entirety. We have detained both Duke Selvin Kelswa and Precentor Virginia Hoppe, and have sequestered ample evidence of their collusion to use a weapon of mass destruction that has been prohibited by interstellar accords. What we have not been able to determine, is Archon Melissa Steiner's role in SLS Birkenhead's destruction. Under the circumstances, we have no choice but to deliver both prisoners to you and let you address this…mess. Until such time as we can ascertain that Precentor Hoppe's actions are not indicative of ComStar's general conduct, we have no choice but to consider it an illegal organization.

"I look forward to discussing with you and other leaders of…former member states, how my command might best fit into the…sphere as it presently exists. But for now, my personnel need time to recover, both from the misjump, but also our long action against Amaris.

"Murakama, out."

For a long time they sat in silence.

"Would you like me to play it again?"

Ulric waved a hand. "Interesting. An SLDF naval-branch officer. Can a HyperPulse Generator be used as an offensive weapon?"

"I have not ever heard of such," Anastasius replied.

Ulric considered for a moment longer, then reached to a wall panel and pushed a stud.

"Bridge. Comm officer of the watch."

"This is the Khan. Whoever is your senior HPG technician, have him or her report to my quarters."

"Yes, my Khan! At once!"

"The lunacy of it if it is true," Anastasius said.

"Indeed?" Ulric asked.

"We have discussed how much of the Inner Sphere regards attacks upon JumpShips."

"Anathema. We hold a similar view of nuclear ordnance."

"It is more than that, though. Many worlds are dependent on trade in various resources in order to maintain habitability. Or, perhaps more accurately, to support the size of population they now have. Without them, those systems' population would rapidly dwindle. And yet the whole of the Inner Sphere can produce perhaps a handful each year, and that is a very recent development.

"But to destroy a ship with a compact KF-drive? There has not been one in the Inner Sphere for centuries. And a Potemkin, if I correctly recall the Star League histories I read in my youth, could transport twenty-five DropShips at once."

"Indeed you are correct," Ulric said.

"And for what?" Focht asked. "My Order exists on its neutrality, on that all know us to exist outside the conflicts of men so as to ensure the continued survival of humanity. You offer us a step away from the brink, but to risk it all now, and to what purpose?"

"If it be so," Ulric said.

There was a muted chime, and he touched a button.

A moment later a youngish woman with brown hair in a practical braid stepped uncertainly into the room. "My Khan?" she asked with some trepidation. "You requested my presence?"

"I believe so. Your name?"

She took a breath. "I am Senior Chief HyperPulse Generator Technician Cheryl, my Khan."

"Then you are indeed the one I wished to speak to. Tell me, Technician Cheryl. Is it possible for a HPG to be used as a weapon?"

"A weapon?" Cheryl blinked in surprise. "I have never heard of one being used as such but…" she frowned suddenly, her head bobbing slightly. "An HPG works by ripping a very small hole in space-time that is then maintained for the duration of the transmission. Actually, what it does is create a tiny point in which there is no gravity and then rips a small hole in space-time."

"A jump point?" Ulric asked.

"Essentially, but one so small as to preclude transiting anything other than EM radiation. Radio waves, essentially. Actually, that was what the original research was for, a way to create jump points in areas subject to gravitic influence that would make KF-drives otherwise inoperable."

Cheryl shook her head again. "Sorry, I was side-tracked there for a moment. The answer, My Khan, is both yes and no. Yes, in that the HPG cranks out a lot of EM radiation to create that 'micro-jump point.' Anything wandering through that point would be hammered. I am not sure how bad or what kind of damage would be incurred, but it would not be healthy. Civilian-grade electronics would be destroyed outright, and even shielded military-grade systems would be very badly disrupted, perhaps beyond capacity for repair. Even by our technicians."

"And the no?" Ulric asked.

She shrugged. "Target tracking. An HPG station is designed to track the movement of planets around distant stars. If your target was fixed it would be easy enough to hit, but a babe crawling on the floor would generate more lateral movement than the training systems would ever hope to match. I would suspect a ship-mounted HPG might have an easier job of it, but only because a ship moves around while a planet-bound HPG does not."

"Thank you, Senior Chief Technician. You are dismissed."

"My Khan," she said, nodding a brief bow, and then fled.

"Damn," Anastasius said once they were alone once more.

"You heard her, as hard to track a ship moving in orbit as a man walking."

"A ship in orbit follows but a single path, Khan Ulric," Anastasius murmured. "How hard is it to aim where you know your target is going to be?"

Ulric blinked. "You think your Primus would do such a thing?"

"My Primus' motivations are her own. Suffice to say, I see no reason why she would choose to reveal such a capability, nor to use it, at this juncture."

Ulric considered him for a moment, then stood and crossed to the holoprojector. They watched the message through in silence. "This was not the only message, quiaff?"

"A personal message was sent to each leader of the 'member states.' A message was not sent to Elected Prince Haakon Magnusson. We don't know if that was intentional, an oversight, or simply because they are still trying to come to terms with the universe in which they have found themselves."

"May you live in interesting times," Ulric murmured.

"May you find what you are looking for."

*TH-X1138's legal workaround of naval regulations injunctions against living personnel being transported by automated JumpShip and autonomous WarShips having real command authority boils down to a 'split' identity. The AI-persona is recognized as a 'real person,' with Star League citizenship, rights (speech, assembly, vote, etc), and duties (taxes!); while their hulls are carried on the SLDF-N ship list (as maintained by Task Force TH-X1138).

In documentation, both share the same name, but while the hull-name is italicized (as is custom for names of ships), but the AI-persona is not. By convention, such a vessel is appropriately addressed by their hull-name in any situation that isn't purely social, or whenever potential confusion exists.