Chapter 17: Political Calculus
October 6, 3025
Unclaimed Space
Mandalas System
This is such a bad idea. Donavan sat in an ancient civilian petrol-fueled truck that had seen almost as many kilometers as his Blackjack had while it wheezed along a dusty track out of town. In the driver's seat was a boy that couldn't be over sixteen standard years old, but his hands were already creased and callused from long hours of hard labor. He kept shooting glances over at Donavan that switched every few seconds between nervous and excited.
For his part, Donavan felt old. The way the kid was looking at him you'd think he was some hardened badass that had it all figured out rather than just a guy a couple of years older making it all up as he went along and hoping it wouldn't fall apart on him.
And still making stupid decisions, as Sumire kindly pointed out. That thought at least brought a ghost of a smile to his face. It died as the truck began to slow while they approached an old farmhouse. The truck eased to a stop on squeaky brakes and in a cloud of dust, and Donavan stepped out and looked around. The farmhouse itself had seen better days, with faded white paint and some gaps in the fence line. The crops were in a bad way as well, most dead in the dust and the rest choked by weeds.
The truck's motor sputtered to a halt and Donavan was surprised by just how loud the silence was, filled only by the blowing wind. "C'mon, this way. We're meeting in the barn."
Donavan followed the boy around the house to a barn that looked to be in better shape than the house. The sound of their footsteps crunching in the gravel drive made the muffled voices inside fall quiet, then the barn doors opened with a creak.
Inside were between fifteen and twenty people that ranged from early teenagers to mid-twenties, mostly boys but a handful of girls, too. They were all dressed in well-worn, thick workwear, and more than a few homespun patches were in evidence where they'd worn through. Each of them was armed in some way, most with single-shot rifles or revolvers. The barn held two beat-up old AgroMechs, reaper arms ready for the next harvest. He searched the room; some met his eyes, some looked away. One, though, stood up and stepped closer, his gaze a challenge. He was the oldest there, maybe twenty-five, and at his hip was a needler pistol, a vicious, if very short-ranged, weapon that fired a spray of tiny flechettes.
"So, you showed up, huh?"
Donavan nodded. "I did."
"And? You gonna help us, or not?"
"I'm going to try to, by talking you out of this. What's your name?"
The man spit at his feet and snarled. "And here I thought mercenaries took the money and didn't ask questions. You got something against our money? Against us? You don't know a thing about us, and you come all the way out here to mock us?" In a fury, he drew the needler and leveled it at Donavan.
Donavan held completely still, eyes locked on the man, while his peripheral vision caught movement as at least a few of the would-be revolutionaries flinched at their leader's outburst. "You're right," he said slowly, keeping his voice calm. "I don't know a thing about you, or your friends. But here is what I do know. You've got two options. Option A is you kill me. But if you do, my DropShip circling overhead will destroy this barn, the farmhouse, and most of the farm with concentrated particle projectile cannons, and every last one of you will die in the next thirty seconds. Or option B, we talk, and nobody dies."
The boy went white. "Yo-you're bluffing. You can't kill your clients! The Mercenary Review Board would hunt you down!"
Donavan held his gaze, struggling to reach the frightened, embarrassed, angry young man, and slowly tapped the comm unit in his hand. "Sumire, we need a little demonstration. There doesn't seem to be much growing outside—why don't you paint the field."
"Copy, targeting field. Incoming." Her voice was flat and professional. Only someone who knew her as well as he did could hear the tension in her voice.
Every eye was locked on him now, most in horror, as silent seconds ticked by, then a searing tear of light ripped out of the sky and the barn shook to the rafters while all around the children clapped hands over their ears at the overwhelming noise.
Slowly they collected themselves, and Donavan spoke once more. "Now, listen to me. You are right. Mercenaries don't kill their clients, and I'm not interested in the money you've scraped together. But it's not personal, and it's not because I don't like you. If I was willing to just take the money without asking questions I wouldn't be down here, and that shot would have been on the barn, not in the field."
The leader had at least lowered the needler, his face ashen with shock. "What… what do you mean? What do you want?"
Donavan's face turned grim. "Your plan is doomed. You were going to take over, take power, and after we'd left, then what? You think those thrown out of power would just roll over? You offered me your life savings for a new future, but your parents offered me your inheritance to preserve the status quo for a little longer, wiping you out. You are not the client—you're the target. But," he hastened to add before any weapons could be aimed, "I don't like killing kids. So instead, I've come down here myself to give you another option. From everything I've seen, this planet is doomed. It's not self-sufficient, and you don't make enough to import what you need, especially when you're offering most of it to people like me to kill each other off. So here's my offer—come with me off world. Some of you have AgroMech experience, so we can see if you've got what it takes to be a MechWarrior, or we can drop you off on another planet to make a fresh start."
The rebel stared at him, still trying to come to grips with the fact that their plans had not been as secret as he thought. "And if we refuse?"
Donavan shrugged. "My people are my top priority. I'm about to walk into a war, and I need every c-bill I can get to keep them alive. I won't like it, but I'll still kill you if I have to."
The young men and women looked at each other, dazed. Finally, one of the women spoke up. "I've never liked this planet much, anyway. I'll go."
The others hurried to follow until only the leader was left. He looked at the others with bitterness, but also with resignation. "I suppose I don't have much of a choice."
Donavan disagreed. "You always have a choice. You just usually don't realize it when you're making it."
…
Sumire stood in the cockpit, arms crossed, as Donavan marched up the gangway followed by a gaggle of youths. Her glare gave him pause just inside while Glitch led the wide-eyed farmers to their temporary quarters on the Leopard.
"Donavan, what did you think you were doing?" Anger surged through her, making the words come out more fiercely than she'd intended, and she paused, trying to understand the unexpected emotion.
Donavan held out his hands defensively. "I was trying to avoid killing a bunch of helpless kids."
"I know that. I'll even give you that it was the right thing to do. But do you have any idea how many people get themselves killed doing the right thing? That boy could have killed you. He could have killed you accidentally when I torched that field. The targeting systems could have been off a couple of degrees and I could have killed you."
Donavan dropped his hands and frowned. "Are you saying I should have just killed them?"
She snorted. "Of course not."
"Then what are you so angry about?"
Sumire opened her mouth to respond with her trademark snark that she didn't appreciate her commander taking stupid risks when her feelings suddenly became clear. "I'm upset, Donavan, because I'm afraid to lose you." A whole mix of new emotions that would take a lot of time to process hit her as she admitted it. "I'm afraid to lose you, and I hate feeling helpless while you're down there risking yourself doing something stupid."
Donavan smiled, his concern melting away. "Thank you, Sumire. And I know it's easier for me, as you're safe on the DropShip. Well, safer, I suppose," he amended. "But it turned out alright, at least this time. And I needed to do something to make me feel like a decent person." His expression turned grim. "We've got a lot of killing ahead of us."
"I know," relied Sumire. "And for what it's worth, it's one of the things I like about you—that sometimes you just do the right thing, even when it's not the smart thing." She felt a small thrill saying that, even as another part of her groaned at her own juvenile excitement. Donavan's eyes seemed to sparkle at her words, and she rolled her own. "Oh, get over here." She pulled him into a fierce hug that said all the things she didn't quite know how to express. He held her just as tightly, and for a moment everything wasn't so bad in the galaxy.
October 8, 3025
Unclaimed Space
Location Classified
Lady Kamea Arano looked at the projection of Panzyr II. Company Commander Heath eyed the same projection next to her with a critical eye. Kamea wasn't sure if the matriarchal Magistracy's choice of a man as the leader of her borrowed troops was supposed to disguise the fact that she was receiving their support, or to be a veiled insult… or maybe both. Either way, the man himself didn't seem to know or care. He was tall and strongly built with an old-school military buzz cut. He radiated competence and Kamea was extremely reassured to have him around, even if his true loyalties lay elsewhere.
"Well, Commander?"
"As you are aware, ma'am, the debris field is vast and constantly shifting. It has smashed itself into small pieces, requiring a slow approach to mitigate damage of smaller, faster debris. The field requires both vast computer support to track and frequent updates to the models from visual observation. In sum, whoever controls the spaceport and its landing guidance computers controls reinforcements. I propose that a small initial strike force infiltrate under some sort of cover and seize and hold the spaceport while reinforcements land. Once the Company is down, we move in force on the palace complex."
Kamea nodded. "Simple and straightforward. However, our strategic objective is securing House Decimis' support. If we simply hold the spaceport for what may be hours, all Directorate forces are likely to rally on the palace, making the assault costlier and potentially trapping Lord Pierre-Louis Decimis in the crossfire. It is vital to secure his safety and support."
Commander Heath frowned. "We could leave a minimal detachment at the spaceport and advance quickly with a lighter 'Mech contingent, then try to cut up any scattered Directorate forces moving towards the palace, but that adds risk of an organized counter-attack, and…"
Kamea listened intently as her Commander wrestled with the problems while a small part of her mind couldn't help but see the countdown to the date of their attack. They had to keep the pressure on.
…
Alexander Madeira listened in on Kamea's conversation with her Magistracy soldier with half an ear. The plan sounded reasonable from a practical perspective, but it was the political ramifications that were his concern.
House Madeira and House Decimis had a… troubled history. Both Houses originated on Guldra where they'd been friendly rivals at best, and fierce adversaries at worst. Eventually, they had each consolidated enough power to make a showdown inevitable, and after a struggle that had occasionally broken out into armed conflict, the Madeira's had muscled out House Decimis, who relocated to Panzyr. The move was framed as an accord between the major Houses in what was still the Aurigan Trade Partnership. House Decimis saved face in a "negotiated" withdrawal, and the trade partnership gained credibility in its early moves towards becoming a sovereign coalition.
That was nearly fifty years ago, but Alexander had no illusions that he would receive a warm welcome. Where House Madeira had associated itself with house Espinosa, almost out of habit, Decimis had leaned towards the Aranos. And with the rest of his House now firmly in the Directorate's camp, he would need to keep out of the way as much as possible.
That was less important, however. What mattered more was what happened to the balance of power if they succeeded. In many ways Panzyr was the perfect target. The debris field made Panzyr practically unassailable, and the combined lack of valuable assets on the ground and the difficulty in withdrawing units meant there wasn't much in the way of ground defenses, either. And once they took it, it required virtually nothing in the way of resources to defend, either.
With a win Kamea could hold, support would start coming in. First from the desperate already under disfavor with the Directorate taking the longshot bet, along with die-hard Arano loyalists. But string a third victory together, and she would be looking at a real chance of a groundswell movement. That made the possibilities… interesting.
October 8, 3025
Aurigan Directorate
Coromodir V
Lord Santiago Espinosa and his daughter sat on a private balcony in the palace on Coromodir. It was swept three times a day for listening devices, and armed and fanatically loyal guards stood outside the entrance. It was one of the few places Director Espinosa felt safe, and he finally allowed himself to relax into a sinfully comfortable chair overlooking the city with a grateful sigh.
Evening was coming on and the setting sunbathed the city in glowing light. Beside him, Victoria stood rigidly straight. "Father, I don't understand your strategy. Why take the risk?"
Espinosa frowned. "Victoria, you are my strong right hand. But you must be more than that. You must be my heir, and that means you must expand your horizons. There might have been a time when war was the noble struggle between ideologies, but that time is long past, if it ever existed. You must look beyond, you must understand that at the very least since the Ares Convention was signed, war is simply an extension of politics. An extremely destructive and expensive form of politics, but politics none-the-less."
Victoria fought to keep the frustration from her face. "What politics? Kamea can't accept her defeat and sacrifices the Aurigan people in a vain attempt to reclaim the throne."
"Your vision is too narrow. Victoria, where do you think she got her troops, her support?"
Victoria waved a hand dismissively. "Mercenaries. No doubt the Aranos hid money away and she wastes it."
"And if I told you that most of her troops were, until very recently, active-duty soldiers from the Magistracy of Canopus?"
"What? Has the Magistracy lost their minds? Are they declaring war on us? We cannot let this stand! We must—"
Espinosa held up a hand to forestall Victoria's angry tirade. "Think, Victoria, think! The Magistracy views their own military with disdain, but they retain enough forces to conquer us outright if they truly wanted to. Yet they do not. Why?"
Victoria forced herself to push aside a surge of anger at her father's tone to think it through. She would not fail this test. "They don't conquer us because… they couldn't hold the territory."
Her father nodded approvingly. "Correct, at least in the essential point. If they warred against us, they would be vulnerable to invasion from the Free Worlds League, from whom they originally broke off, or more likely given the League's current infighting, from the Capellan Confederation, seeking to outflank the League. The Capellans, in turn, could conquer the Magistracy if they truly wanted to, but such an attack would be turning their backs to their hated enemy, the Federated Suns."
"Then why, father?" Why do the Magistracy risk a war with us that they do not want to fight?"
Espinosa gestured expansively to the stars just starting to appear as twilight set in. "It is all connected, Victoria. We may be out on the Periphery, but even small vibrations here can spread far. We rely on the Magistracy not attacking because of the threat from the Capellans, who don't attack because of the threat of the Federated Suns, who don't attack because of the treat from the Draconis Combine to galactic north, and the Taurian Concordat to rimward, on our other flank. And the Taurians don't attack because they would lose, if no other Houses intervened, but also because their flank with the Directorate is vulnerable."
Victoria scoffed. "The Taurians are afraid of us?"
"No, but if they redirected all of their forces to threaten the FedSuns, we could scoop up undefended worlds and hold them for a few years before they could do anything about it, and if the FedSuns gave us support, which they no doubt would, we could do a lot more than that."
"But… the Magistracy is trying to destabilize us, doesn't that secure the Taurians flank?"
The Director shook his head. "No. If we are unstable, we would be virtually forced to accept aid from the Federated Suns simply to survive, and the Fox, Prince Davion, would jump at the chance to keep the Taurians from bothering him for so cheap a price while he plays his games with Chancellor Liao. Keeping us off-balance keeps us from negotiating with the Taurians for an alliance, or even just a mutual defense agreement. If we can't actually threaten border worlds, Lord Calderon can't offer any worlds in exchange for the deal without looking weak, and he can't be sure we won't turn on him for the FedSuns unless he gives us military support. And if he had spare military power he would be better off securing the border without needing to work with us. So, the Magistracy wants Kamea to hang around, irritating us and weakening our control. This prevents us from reaching a deal with the Taurians and threatening the balance of power that could ripple out to bother the Magistracy. I doubt the Magistracy cares much who controls the Aurigan reach, so long as it is weak enough to be tempted by Federated Suns aid to keep Calderon looking over his shoulder."
Victoria nodded, wide-eyed. "I… see, father. I hadn't considered that the Inner Sphere Houses would care about us."
"Oh, they don't, not even a little. Never forget that, Victoria. I would be surprised if many rulers of the Houses had even heard of us. But the smart ones, the advisers and tacticians, they know who we are, and carefully track how actions out here could impact them. So you are correct that we could stop Kamea simply by reinforcing all the border with nearly zero risk. But that would play directly into the Magistracy's hands and they would support Kamea indefinitely, a constant source of weakness sapping our strength. We can only beat her by removing her support, and that means drawing her in and crushing her. There are greater risks, but we cannot simply wait her out."
Victoria leaned back in her chair thoughtfully. "Why don't we simply denounce the Magistracy? Tell them to stop supporting her or risk the conflict they're trying so hard to avoid?"
"Because both sides know that we cannot call their bluff—it is a battle we cannot win. It might doom them in the long term, but then again, it might not, and they would still crush our people. And in the meantime, it would hurt our cause more than it helped. Those who believe our claims that the Magistracy is backing Kamea will be afraid, and rightfully so, of a potential conflict with the Magistracy. And those that don't will see our claiming it as a weakness, an excuse to explain our failure to defeat Kamea who they believe has nothing more than a ragtag rebel group. The equation would be different if we had proof of their involvement – then we could privately threaten to denounce them, and they would probably cut Kamea off, maybe even deliver her to us in exchange for our silence. But we cannot count on finding that proof, so we must crush her forces, then pressure the Magistracy to cut her off as a bad investment, lest they push us further into the Taurian camp to secure our flank against them, creating the very outcome they were trying to avoid."
"This is… complicated, father."
"It is, Victoria. These are deep waters, and it is imperative that you learn how to swim in them so you can keep the people of the Reach safe when I am gone. And a single mistake, a single miscalculation, can swallow the Reach hole."
"I will try, father."
Espinosa closed his eyes. "Good. Now, tell me about the preparations on Panzyr. It is the perfect target for Kamea—she won't be able to resist it."
