Almost self-consciously, Zahn reached up to touch the new collar devices that went with his new rank, neither of which had been seen since the time of Jasmine Liao's 2455 decree that limited Capellan officers to the rank of colonel.
Sun-Tzu Liao glanced over, a flicker of amusement playing in his eyes. "What is the status of the Confederation's military forces?"
Zahn dropped his hand back to his side and looked down to lock his gaze to the path. Though secure in his position, he still did not like to bring bad news to the Chancellor. Not that any fault rested on him personally, but it always made him feel as if he had somehow failed his lord and master.
He drew a deep breath, tasting the air. Damp and cold, it carried the slightest hint of pine and the promise of more rain. "Overall," he said, "the Confederation Armed Forces are in high spirits. The change in our ranking conventions has been very well received in the spirit of Xin Sheng, and the release of news from Hustaing demonstrates our strength with House Hiritsu's victory."
"And the Hustaing Warriors?" Sun-Tzu kicked a small rock to the edge of the path.
"Formed up to battalion strength and given the best possible training that House Hiritsu could manage in such a short time." And with their rapid deployment, any rough edges will soon be beaten off of them.
"But?" the Chancellor asked, voice flat.
Shoulders only slightly slumped from their usual military attention, Zahn nodded. "But. Our efforts in the Disputed Territories do not hold to initial estimations. We are expanding, but slowly. Worlds such as Wei and Aldebaran are causing problems out of proportion to their actual importance, though Wei I expect to be less of a problem with a battalion of McCarron's Armored Cavalry dropping onto the world in two weeks." Another deep breath and sharp exhale. Zahn watched the play of steam his breath had caused in the cold air. "And in the Chaos March we are stopped cold."
Sun-Tzu fixed his Strategic Military Director with a hard jade stare. "How is that possible?"
"I do not know," Zahn admitted, "yet. The worlds are too well-armed and organized for it to be the product of independent effort. But Maskirovka agents have yet to pin down which Great House is responsible." And now to broach the problem. "I have studied your latest directive, Chancellor. You wish to use Capellan troops as part of the SLDF occupation forces?"
"You promised me the troops would be available."
"And they are," Zahn assured him. "If you gave the order, I would mount a full-scale invasion of the St. Ives Compact tomorrow. Or the Chaos March. Or even the old Tikonov Commonality." And one of those must be coming, though you do not tell me which. "But that would cost the reserves you have asked me to hold back."
Sun-Tzu slowed his pace, deep in thought. "Then you are talking about time, not manpower, so long as we can proceed with the troops already allocated. Your estimations—"
"Were based on further help coming from the Periphery," Zahn interrupted in a very soft voice. But as a testament to the importance of the matter, never in disrespect. It is my duty to the Chancellor and the Confederation to make sure our military position is well understood. "I have read the reports coming out of the Detroit Conference, Chancellor. Jeffrey Calderon is not going to follow Emma Centrella into an alliance with the Capellan Confederation. I have to conclude that the Taurian Concordat is lost to us, which means that we must pull back on at least one front. For now. Or else we risk taking unnecessary losses."
Stopping, Sun-Tzu focused his attention away from Zahn, his eyes on a low, wide shrub kept trimmed into the form of a prowling tiger. "The Detroit Conference is not over yet," he said. "So we continue. In all areas."
Talon Zahn nodded once. "As you desire, Chancellor." A gamble, certainly. But now that I have voiced my only concerns, my duty is to enforce the Chancellor's will.
Sun-Tzu nodded, as if reading his mind. "All will work out in the end, Jiang-jun Zahn." He turned to continue walking the path, voice carefully neutral. "Let us wait, and see what the new year brings."
18
Home Guard Staging Grounds
Hazlet, Nashuar
St. Ives Compact
19 December 3060
Operating under his previous rank and handling the controls of a J. Edgar light hovertank, Lance Sergeant Maurice Fitzgerald led his reconnaissance "prowler" lance out of the Hazlet base's vehicle bay. The J. Edgar was an older vehicle, and despite the spit and polish applied, it smelled of rancid sweat left behind in the stained padding by previous drivers over its fifty years of operating history. Well armored, however, the tank could stand up to a BattleMech—for a few minutes anyway. One reason Fitz had chosen it.
Two Harassers followed to his left and right rear quarters, while a new Centipede scout brought up the rear to complete a standard diamond formation. When the Centipede cleared the threshold, Fitz opened up a comm channel. "Prowler Recon has cleared bays," he radioed in to his company CO.
"Prowler Recon, cleared for independent operation. Good hunting."
Fitzgerald opened the throttles, cruising the hovertank up to one hundred kilometers per hour over the light snow-covered ground. The winter twilight was far too cheery to suit him, with bright stars beginning to peak through in the clear, dimming skies. And somewhere out there, was the Lyran Alliance occupation force they were under orders to locate and observe.
And avoid, if any attempts were made to enforce Sun-Tzu Liao's stand-down order. All six border worlds were now under Star League "protection," with a declaration of martial law and an order to disarm. To defuse the possibility of further hostilities and allow the region to slowly regain control of itself. Or so the official press release read.
Fitz, among the rest of the Home Guard, bought into that as much as Duchess Liao obviously did, meaning not at all. All Compact units were under direct orders to conduct peaceful noncompliance, a tactic that had stalemated the situation so far.
Sliding through the wide open gate in the cyclone fencing, all that surrounded the Home Guard base of operations in Hazlet, Fitz came around on a north-northeast heading. The presence of new units crept in along the forward edge of his head's up tactical display, blue circles with BattleMech coding attached. It was the Home Guard 'Mech company, out on another practice run.
Finger-joints aching from his crushing grip on the controls, Fitzgerald resisted the urge to swing eastward and slip around the patrolling company. None of them knew what reassignment he'd chosen. Having been a member of the Mech Warrior company, even if only as a trainee, he knew that his small armor force was beneath the notice of the pilots strapped into those cockpits.
The BattleMechs, ranging up to ten meters tall, broke the horizon with their bulky, humanoid forms. There was the Phoenix Hawk, Nevarr's 'Mech, leading the formation. Fitzgerald wasn't sure exactly who piloted what 'Mech in the regular company, though he'd heard that Danielle had picked up the Blackjack he'd trained in and that both Choya and, surprisingly, Cameron had made the selection board.
He bit down on his lip, drawing blood. Your own fault, he reminded himself. Nevarr warned you and Danielle tried to help you, but you didn't listen. Or at least you didn't hear. Nevarr let you defeat yourself. In real combat, you would have been responsible for the loss of four BattleMechs and perhaps the death of friends. You weren't ready.
Which was part of the reason he'd chosen recon assignment when transferred back to the armor corps following that last combat simulation. He certainly qualified for heavier tanks, but the idea of working in close proximity with others as part of a regular three-man tank crew made him shudder after the solitary freedom of a BattleMech. And by committing himself to the lighter vehicles, he forced himself into a supporting role similar to the one at which he had failed. I need to learn to rely on others, and in turn be reliable to them. Fitz wanted to believe that Nevarr would have approved of his choice in assignments.
As if he'd been reading the thoughts of his former commander and instructor, the Phoenix Hawk slowed to a walk and then stopped, bringing the 'Mech colu
mn to a halt directly alongside the armor lance's intended path. Fitz shook with a preternatural chill. He tried telling himself that Nevarr was just waiting for the vehicles to clear the area so the 'Mechs could rehearse formation changes or something, but the way the 'Hawk turned to slowly follow the progress of the armored vehicles bothered him. Then, just for a split second, his threat indicators warned of a targeting lock from the Phoenix Hawk.
He knows! Fitz' hands shook on the controls, throwing the slightest hitch into the J. Edgar's glide path. He had not seen Nevarr after his last failure, having gone to great pains to avoid the 'Mech commander. But he had no doubts now that Nevarr had taken the time to learn his former cadet's new assignment. Though nervous under the watchful eyes of his former commander, Fitzgerald did feel a small measure of pride as well from Nevarr's brief salute of recognition.
"Prowler Recon," he said over his lance's private channel, "track turrets right. On my mark, douse running lights for three seconds. Mark!" Fitz hit the switch that extinguished all outer lights for the hovertank, his infrared and starlight scanners more than enough for safe travel. "Return," he said, lighting back up and completing the armor corps form of a pass in review salute.
"Good hunting," a strong voice whispered into Fitz' ear over the general frequencies.
"Clear fields," Fitzgerald returned, a standard Mech Warrior's good wishes. Then he switched back over to his lance's private channel. "All right, let's crank it up to flank speed and make some distance. I want to tag that Lyran force within two hours."
And as the BattleMechs faded back to the rear horizon, Fitzgerald felt Nevarr's gaze follow him.
Lakeside County, Denbar
St. Ives Compact
Zhong-Shao Ni Tehn Dho had heard of spring-green units before, but this performance was embarrassing. The battalion commander shook his head.
Piloting the Victor assault 'Mech that had once belonged to the Blackwind Lancers Major Smithson, Dho stared out through the cockpit viewscreen at the growing confusion of Denbar's Lakeside County Shipping Yard. Half a dozen of his Hustaing Warriors piloting lighter 'Mechs were attempting to contain twice their number in tractor-trailer trucks. And failing, Dho noted with a degree of disbelief as the trucks continued to flee the loading docks with the much-needed food.
He had hoped that this little milk run would help to tighten unit cohesion and build on weak skills, but so far all it had done was promote chaos. Only the Jenner, piloted by one of his few warriors with any previous BattleMech experience, kept to any semblance of control. Here an UrbanMech shuffled along in ungainly pursuit of a truck, obviously having trouble keeping its balance without arms to use as counterweights. There a Circada overshot a fleeing semi, then overcorrected the move and nearly crashed into the back of the trailer, and finally ended up standing in helpless defeat as the truck made one of the gates. The trucker's departing blast of his air horns signaled the long-hauler's contempt.
We'll force the CCAF to invent a new rating, Dho thought. How about newborn-pink?
Only eight retired MechWarriors with any real life left in them had been called up from the general population of Hustaing. Dho had been one of those, at the age of fifty-nine and ten years into his retirement but eagerly accepting command of the new unit in order to serve the Confederation's Xin Sheng effort. Previously a major in the Capellan Reserves, he'd been reinstated at the same level of responsibility but with the new rank of zong-shao.
Every Hustaing Home Guard with a gram of aptitude had been drafted to fill out the ranks, and a final four members had been accepted from a local college due to their dedicated attendance and impressive records in the local game arcade, which did feature a scaled-down version of 'Mech simulator pods. Interestingly enough, the four Arcade Rangers—the lance's unofficial name—showed faster improvement than any other rookies in raw skills, though the ex-Home Guard personnel naturally commanded a higher level of tactics and battlefield cooperation.
Time and training, that is all they really needed. Dho scratched his neck, where his wispy gray beard irritated the skin. With the help of House Hiritsu, every warrior had been given just over a month of intense training. Two more months, and they might have amounted to something even resembling a green 'Mech battalion. He hadn't even been able to decide on an executive officer yet, but Chancellor Liao, in his ultimate wisdom, had decreed the unit fit enough and dispatched them as the Capellan contribution to the Star League occupation forces. A position of honor.
Dho had hoped the unit would have time to pull together before facing any serious challenge, to keep from embarrassing the Chancellor's trust. But immediately upon landing they discovered a fairly hostile situation in the making. The standing Denbar garrison—Home Guard armor and a few remaining mercenary units—refused the orders to stand down and disarm. The declaration of martial law, ordered by the Chancellor himself in his capacity as First Lord, went largely ignored by the planetary population. Supplies were denied, and tensions remained extremely high as the remaining St. Ives troops kept a strict but non-violent level of alert.
And of the former second battalion of the Blackwind Lancers, there was no sign. To Dho, that implied trouble for the future.
"Enough of this," came a voice over Dho's comm, drawing his attention back to the greased-pig comedy playing itself out in the shipping yard. Dho had yet to learn his people by voice, but thought it to be Sang-wei Evans in the Jenner, one of his lance commanders. "We've played at fools long enough. Hugh, since you're about to fall over anyway, lay that Urbie down across the back entrance to the loading dock. Lo Chang, do the same at the front side. We have three trucks back there still, and that will at least keep them from getting away."
Crude, and maybe beneath the dignity of many Mech Warriors, but effective. Zhong-shao Dho's pulse quickened. This is what he had been hoping for. Sort of. Coordinated battlefield action, if a bit unorthodox.
"Shen Kei, jump that Wasp outside the yard and uproot some trees. Throw them onto the access road there. Then circle the compound until every trail out of here is blocked. With nowhere to go, the truckers will eventually give up or run out of gas, I don't care which." A pause, then, "Zongh-shao Dho, this is Sang-wei Evans. With your permission, sir, I think we can call in our own transports."
"You are doing a fine job, Sao-shao Evans," Dho said, promoting him in responsibility but not pay or authority. When we expand the unit, he will move up to company commander at once. "I will return to our base of operations. I trust you to finish out this assignment." Working his foot pedals and throttle, Ni Tehn Dho maneuvered his Victor around and then strode off toward the highway, which he would follow back to the spaceport.
Well, it wasn't inspiring, or even pretty, but the job was done and left Dho with at least some hope for the future of his command. Now it was just a matter of instilling in them a sense of unity and a regard for proper Capellan dignity and battlefield tradition. We shouldn't have been activated so quickly, and if things heat up we'll pay dearly for it, but with a little time I can turn this group into a real combat battalion. He glanced at an auxiliary monitor displaying the scene behind him, of 'Mechs laying themselves down as barricades. If nothing else, though, the Hustaing Warriors will be known for their spirited attempts. Zhong-shao Dho sighed. The Chancellor's will be done.
Point of No Return
Weigh the situation, then move.
—Sun-Tzu, The Art of War
For every action, any effort, there is a cost involved. Economic, political, social—it is paid somewhere. And the proper time to weigh such consequences is before a course is begun, when the cost may be evaluated within a proper frame of reference. For at some point, there is simply no looking back.
—Sun-Tzu Liao, journal entry, 22 November 3058, Tharkad
19
Celestial Palace
Zi-jin Cheng (Forbidden City), Sian
Sian Commonality, Capellan Confederation
5 January 3061
So late into the evening, mo
st of the Celestial Palace was darkened and silent. Sun-Tzu sat at his desk, watching again as Candace Liao's latest address to Star League member states played out over the desktop's inlaid screen. Isis Marik, returned from Hustaing but not yet reinstalled in her Zi-jin Cheng mansion, stood behind him, hands resting lightly on his shoulders. Both wore comfortable silk evening robes over bedclothes; hers embroidered along the sleeves with crescent moons and stars, his with the Chinese zodiac wheel across the back.
Alternating between a desire for privacy and an appreciation of Isis' company, Sun-Tzu now reached up with his right hand and covered one of her hands with his own. He would have to get used to having her around again, he decided, then returned his attention to the image of his Aunt Candace very carefully. He'd hoped to see an old woman beginning to wear under the strain of the last several months. Desperation showing in rapid eye movements or perhaps futility in the droop of her shoulders. At the very least, she could have expressed either resignation or anger in her tone. She gives me nothing to work with.
Candace sat in a high-backed chair, carved from a rich-grained wood and stained a beautiful cherry red. Her dress, an elegant ivory with only slightly exaggerated shoulders and sleeves that wrapped partly over the back of each hand, hinted at an Asian style without overstating her Chinese origins. Back straight, hands folded demurely in her lap, eyes calm and confident, she was the picture of dignified Asian rule.
Sun-Tzu glowered at the screen.
"And so, fellow council members," his aunt continued, "I find myself forced to call for a formal vote to repeal the First Lord's current action." Candace raised her hands in a cautionary gesture. "Not to suggest that he has acted improperly or outside the bounds of his office. I admit that mistakes have occurred which demanded a response, and I would like to think that First Lord Liao might have taken such hard measures were it the Free Rasalhague Republic or the Federated Commonwealth to feel threatened."
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