The Door, Copernicus Caldera,

Einstein, Deep Periphery,

14^th March 3068

 

“What the heck are we waiting for?” Dravid Rajenan of the heavy tank company Death Dancers yelled. “Let’s just bust into he base ASAP!”

Thirty minutes ago, the mercs proceeding towards the alien site had all landed almost simultaneously. Ian Dorlacen had quickly called for a war council, to discuss their next moves. All the merc leaders were now in attendance, while their troops formed a makeshift perimeter around the Door and the dropships.

The council was held under a large tent, with battered crates set up as makeshift tables. Datapads, computers, and laptops were scattered all over the crates.

“We simply don’t know what might happen when we activate the machines.” Frank repeated for the third time. “I want everybody to be sure of the risks involved. The Star League bases here were all wiped out when the Door was opened. We could suffer the same fate if we’re not prepared.” Deserk’s dreams were weighing heavily on his mind as he said this.

“Come on. You must know the Falcons have info on all our movements. They’ll be dropping on our heads like a ton of bricks soon if we don’t find a way inside.” Lieutenant Robert Feehan, new commander of the Warriors after Karen Winslet was killed in action, stood up to give his view. “The risks are worth it. Just get all our troops and the dropships ready, and I can assure you that short of a clan cluster, nothing can stop us from getting safely into the base.”

As the other commanders discussed their deployment and tactics, Ian finally recalled where he had heard of Robert Feehan. The man was once a Colonel, commander of Wolverton Highlanders. After his regiment was bought out by the Blackstone Highlanders, he somehow got his unit embroiled in the Fed-Com civil war. His unit was torn apart by Snord’s Irregulars and Archer’s Avengers. Robert was shipped to Outreach, where he was jailed for a year for using questionable tactics, although his claim that he did not willingly participate in the planning was a strong mitigating factor.

Karen had signed him up as her second in command recently when he was released and looking for a job. Ian had met the man a few times, but those few times he had failed to connect the man’s name with the unscrupulous merc mentioned in the merc newscasts.

Robert Feehan seemed decent enough, and his time in jail must have sobered him. In any case, Ian was glad to see that most of the mercs had put aside any animosity due to past conflicts and differences to work together. The sole exception was Hamirah Rasouf, who still bore Frank Meronac a serious grudge for past events on Bromhead.

The appearance of the Goliath Scorpion Descartin Winters was a bit of a shock to most of the merc commanders, but his easy smile and friendly demeanor quickly put them to ease. They were still a bit shocked at seeing a clanner who was not out to kill them, and this was reflected in their slight hesitation whenever Descartin spoke to one of them.

Ian shook himself from his thoughts, and glanced at the data screen in front of him. While he had been woolgathering, they had come up with a workable plan.

Frank Meronac and the huge clan scientist Lorik were demonstrating how they were going to activate the machines. Six volunteers would be hooked up to the machines’ input helmets, which seemed a lot similar to the neurohelmets mechwarriors use. A central processor would coordinate the psi output from the machines.

Meanwhile, the mechs and vehicles of the mercs would stand guard around the Door in a crescent in two ranks. One facing outwards, one facing inwards in case of a force emerging from the base. The dropships would hold the center of the crescent with their firepower, while the infantry would stand around near where they guessed the edge of the Door to be, ready to rush in once the inner line had cleared the Door. The key machines would be placed outside, near the dropships, to be transported inside once the Doors and the immediate area within the base was cleared by their groundpounders, led by Drenner and his elemental abtakha warriors.

Nobody had any idea of what to expect from the base interior once the Door was opened, so all personnel were instructed to be at full readiness.

Kety of the Raiders was speaking. “If we are to maintain cohesion in battle, someone must be overall commander. That way, we won’t be picked apart piecemeal when things fall apart.”

Solemn nods were seen among the mercs as they all knew the value of unity, especially in such a situation.

“Therefore,” Kety continued, “I nominate Frank as temp Colonel.” Frank nearly choked on his drink as he heard this, sputtering liquid from his mouth.

Benny Greaves responded almost immediately. “How about Des Winters?”

Drenner spoke up next. “Major Ian ranks the highest among us all. He should be overall commander.”

Name after name was thrown out by the mercs, before Ian banged the table once to indicate silence. Almost immediately, everyone quieted down.

“I’m honored to be suggested, but how about someone who has been a real Colonel before?” He looked at Robert Feehan, who had yet to respond, and whose name had not even been brought up.

Feehan stood up, and shook his head slowly. “I’m sorry, but I cannot do this. I caused the ruin of my unit years ago. I have no confidence to do this again. I’m scared that I’ll just drag us all down to defeat. I would suggest Major Ian Dorlacen and Frank Meronac as your best choices. Major Ian has proved his worth in combat many times, and Frank Meronac is a quick thinker on his feet. Both are suitable choices.”

Des also refused the job. “I am a clanner. Do you not think there might be a conflict of interest here? My apologies, but I cannot be commander. I will still be willing to work with whomever you select.”

My turn to speak, Ian thought. “It’s better that I coordinate the frontlines, while Frank coordinates the whole thing. The fact is, I’m a better fighter, and my skills are better used on the field. Frank can keep us together, and he’s been doing a good job of leading the Raiders so far. Another point in his favor is that he is a scientist, and probably better than us in dealing with any unexpected situation when inside the base. So how about it?”

Ian could see Frank’s eyes nearly bulging out, the young commander hardly believing what he was hearing.

Personally, Ian did not want overall command. He felt his fighting ability was too useful to be left behind the lines. Frank Meronac, though not academy trained, had a quick mind that could make him a good commander.

“Since even Major Ian thinks Frank should be the commander, so shall it be.” Drenner grinned, and gave Frank a quick salute, which the stupefied doctor sloppily returned.

All around the place, mercs yelled out their approval, with Hamirah Rasouf one obvious exception. She did not say anything though. Frank sighed, then nodded his head in reluctant acceptance. He looked up, and determination could be seen in his eyes as he gave his first orders.

“Ok, I’m still learning, but I’ll do my best. I want all units to be at their standby points in twenty minutes. We might have very little time before the Falcons issue another challenge and come in with guns blazing. Lorik, get your volunteers hooked up, and get the code programs running ASAP.” He clapped his hands. “Get to it people! Time’s a wasting here!”

Almost immediately, the entire area quickly became a throng of running warriors and technicians as they prepared for the opening of the Door. Mechwarriors ran over final systems diagnostics with their techs, while the tanker inspected their vehicles one last time. Infantrymen checked their weapons for problems one last time, while dropship crewmen quickly manned their guns, ready to provide supporting fire.

The six volunteers from the tech crews strapped themselves into the key machines, trying to stay calm amidst all the hustle near the Door. Lorik ran last minute simulations of the codes, ensuring that the code sequences were all in order. Tina got ready to assist the medtechs in handling the wounded in case of battle. Harbingers were trained in the healing arts as well, a boon to more than one reckless Seeker in the past.

Forsen Mandela stayed on the bridge of the Nile, wringing his hands nervously in anticipation.

 

Site Upsilon,

Einstein, Deep Periphery

 

“Faster, you stravag dogs! Before I take out my neural whip!” Galaxy Commander Lizabet Danforth roared at the techs to hurry loading up the Overlord-C dropship Sword of Buhallin. Most of the mechs of Star Captain Daniela Mattlov’s Supernova Trinary had been locked into their metal cribs within the massive transport, with only a few more to go..

Just two hours ago, when the White Aerie had arrived to take up station in orbit around the planet, Valten Folkner had reported to her of a massive mercenary gathering in a huge caldera. All six key machines were reported to be present there.

Lizabet knew what that meant, and immediately set out on the Sword of Buhallin to gather up her best troops for the assault to capture the last hidden base on the planet. The mercenaries must had found the hidden base, and were planning to open it. Lizabet wanted to hit them just before they succeeded, and that was why she was anxious for the techs to complete the loading process.

One other trinary had been collected from the various battle sites around the planet, all from the elite 124^th Striker Cluster. With her elite Galaxy Command Trinary added to the force, she knew she had sufficient strength to defeat the mercenaries.

Star Colonel Colbert Icaza had been humiliated during his purposeful failure in his battle with the mercenaries, and today he had been chosen, along with his command trinary, to accompany Galaxy Commander Danforth in her moment of glory. Lizabet had granted him this opportunity to erase the stain on his honour by defeating Descartin Winters. After all, she was the one who ordered him to lose in the first place, so as to let the mercenaries to get the last key machine.

Her plan had worked to perfection, but she feared that if she did not move fast enough, the chance to destroy the mercs and claim the hidden base would be lost.

All the mechs were being equipped with hover-drop jump packs, disposable jump boosters that enabled mechs to disembark from their dropship while it was still several hundred meters above the ground. The jump packs would enable the mechs to land safely.

The hoverdrop technique was extremely risky, but was also one of the most effective manoeuvres for fast offensives. And Lizabet was renowned for using unorthodox, but highly effective tactics. This would enable her troops a good chance of overwhelming the defenders before they could get themselves organized.

“Galaxy Commander.” Daniela Mattlov walked up, a notepad in her hand, “Are you sure we have enough strength to defeat the mercenaries? Some of them are very skilled.”

Lizabet turned to the younger warrior. “Yes, I am sure. Remember, we are the clans. They are only dezgra mercenaries. I tire of this game. I will destroy them once and for all, and claim the hidden base for the glory of the clan. Now go back to your mech, and prepare it for drop.”

A tech walked up. “Galaxy Commander, we have finished loading up all our equipment. We are now ready for lift.”

“Aff.” She acknowledged the report. “We have no time to waste. Let us depart immediately.”

Minutes later, the Sword of Buhallin was streaking through the sky, accompanied by a star of aerospace fighters.

 

The Door, Copernicus Caldera,

Einstein, Deep Periphery

 

High up in the cockpit of his Night Gyr, Frank Meronac looked over his status screens one more time.

Come on, hurry up. He silently willed the key machines to succeed in their task, as a frustrated Lorik paced around the machines, which were placed in the shadow of one of the dropships.

They had tried more than sixty combinations in the past ten minutes, but nothing seemed to be working. The volunteers were all calmly sitting in their crouches, while some medtechs hovered around, ready to render assistance should anything untoward happen.

Lorik had already assured Frank that the volunteers were not the problem, as there was a definite low level psi output by the machines. But Frank could not think of any other reason for the lack of results so far.

The other mercs had been arranged according to their plan, all waiting for the Door to open. It was proving highly stubborn however, mocking Frank every time he looked at it, imploring it to grant some mercy on the poor humans for once.

Another ten minutes passed. Frank used the time to check in with his units, ensuring that everybody knew their roles. Ian was stationed on the outer line facing away from the Door, ready to engage enemies entering the caldera.

Descartin and the rest of the Raiders were lined up on the inner line, ready to rush into the base once the Door opened. The dropships had also been prepared for lift, in case they needed a quick getaway. Forsen seemed to be on the verge of a nervous breakdown when Frank contacted him.

Not that Frank was feeling any better. The air was taut with tension, the sort of feeling one gets when expecting a storm to appear any moment. More than one trooper had joked that the hairs on the back of their necks were standing up so rigidly from the tension that they were going to pop out.

If anyone had told him when they had just landed on the planet that he would be in charge of an entire regiment in slightly more than a week, Frank would have called the person delusional. Yet here he was, a Colonel, albeit temporary, of a mixed arms regiment.

I wonder if I could somehow turn this into my own regiment. If so, I can take this back to the Fed-Com and maybe wrangle a barony for myself. And then I can ask the Duke for Clarice! He shook off the thought. It was just a pipe dream, and he doubted that he could even keep the Raiders together after the campaign.

After waiting for another five minutes, Frank lost his patience. The hell with it, Frank thought. “Lancer One, this is Raider Lead. I’m going EVA to check on the can-openers. You’re in command until I get back.”

“Wilco. Get back soon.”

Lancer One was Ian Dorlacen’s call sign for the day. Frank was Raider Lead, while the others were all assigned their codes according to their parent units.

Unclasping his safety harness, he opened his hatch and climbed down to the ground, where the key machines were. He ran up to Lorik.

“Any new ideas?” He directed the question at Lorik, who was staring helplessly at his display.

“Neg. I am cleaned out of inspiration.” Lorik shrugged his massive shoulders. “I cannot accept that we have come so far only to be fail at this very last trial.”

“How about some music then? Perhaps that will restore your spirits?” Tina offered, her harp held in one hand, obviously waiting for another opportunity to demonstrate her skill.

“Hear, hear!” The bored volunteers on the crouches gave her their approval. They were feeling bored just sitting on the crouches, and trying hard to stay awake. Frank glanced at Lorik, who simply got back to his work.

Frank started walking to his mech, knowing that there was nothing he could do.

Within seconds, the beautiful sounds of the harp was being produced by the Harbinger.

“How do you make such beautiful sounds? I’ve heard harps before, but those harps don’t sound anything near what yours sound like.” Commented one of the volunteers, Pascal Thome.

Tina smiled. “You’re right. I got the strings for the harp specially manufactured by a scientists friend. He was a materials scientist, and he managed to siphon enough time and resources from his usual projects to help me. We tested out many materials for their overtone properties, and I chose the one with the richest sound.”

Frank stopped in his tracks, just as he was about to ascend the ladder on the side of the mech. Overtone? He turned and looked at Tina’s harp. Lorik had stopped his work as well, and was also staring at Tina’s harp. Frank tore his gaze away from the musical instrument and looked at Lorik, who was staring right back at Frank.

Tina and the medtech were surprised at the reactions of the two, and were wondering if they had gone mad from the stress.

“Eureka!” Frank and Lorik yelled at the same time, throwing up their hands in excitement. Lorik quickly turned to his computer, hammering new commands into it as Frank ran up, offering suggestions and corrections as Lorik quickly reprogrammed in the new commands. The puzzled onlookers were trying to decide whether to put the two into straightjackets. Thankfully, one look at Lorik was enough to convince them of the virtues of wait and see.

Overtones. The timbre and quality of music, and indeed of any sound, depended on the higher order waveforms that were imposed on the basic frequency. The overtones were what made one instrument sound different from another instrument, though they might be playing the same pitch.

If they were not so hard pressed by time, Lorik would have taken some time to bang his head against mech armor. As a physicist, he was supposed to understand all aspects of the science, not just the most common fields. The clans do not put much emphasis on the arts, however, and Lorik was lucky to even have an idea of what overtones meant. Still, that was no excuse for his oversight.

Frank, who have had quite a wide range of scientific training before becoming a doctor, had learnt quite a bit about the subject. With everything that had been going on, it had slipped his mind.

They were both feeling more than a bit sheepish that it was probably a Harbinger’s mundane harp that saved the day.

Lorik programmed the overtones into the machines, using the basic psi wave output of the volunteers as a template for further overtone production, all of which differ slightly to mimic the production of music with different instruments. He hoped the modified output would not have any adverse effects.

Frank got back to his Night Gyr after Lorik had finished. He was absolutely sure that the key machines would work correctly this time. Though they had not tried it yet, Frank knew from his very guts that they were on the right track this time.

“Lancer One, this is Raider Lead. I’m back in my mech, anything special going on?”

“Negative.” Ian’s confident voice came in. “How about the can-openers?”

“Doing good. Look sharp, people. Lorik has figured it out, and he’s going to transmit in a minute’s time. Bottom line, be prepared for anything.”

“Raider Lead, this is Nest One.” Nest One was the call sign for the Battle’s Bane, designated as the command dropship. “We’re picking up atmospheric contacts on radar. One large dropship, and some fighters. Seems like the Falcons are joining the party! ETA 7 minutes!”

“Got it.” Frank switched to his loudspeakers. “Lorik, just activate the whole damn thing. The Falcons are on the way. We don’t have much time left.”

He saw Lorik give him a wave to signal his acceptance of the order. Then the big scientist pressed firmly on a button.

 

Deserk did not know what was happening. One moment he was in his Black Hawk, checking his radar for enemy contacts.

The next he was staring at a scene from his deepest hopes. His wife, Reena, was playing with a young girl in a beautiful garden. The girl had her mother’s looks, but her eyes were clearly Deserk’s.

Flash.

A scene he had witnessed a dozen times. A huge mass of black machines swarming towards a few mechs. This time, he saw his own Black Hawk and Des’ Nova Cat leading the way against the enemy, tearing into the ranks of the black machines with a frightening single mindedness.

Flash.

A cavernous throne room, resplendent with banners and decoration. The flags of all the successor states, the clans, and the various nations of the periphery could be seen flying proudly in the room. At one end was a throne. Above and behind it was the symbol of the Star League, a Cameron Star. A man was sitting on the throne.

It was Frank.

Huh? Deserk had time for only one thought before the scene flashed out.

 

To Star Captain Descartin Winters, visions were supposed to be part and parcel of life as a Goliath Scorpion and a former Nova Cat. Still, he had not expected such scenes to appear.

A huge open plain, where hordes of black machines were advancing, suddenly filled with glaring light as a bolt of light descended from the heavens.

Flash.

A ruined city, where a desperate battle was taking place. Des could not recognize the insignia on the mechs, but he did understand he was looking at a purple eagle on some of them. An Urbanmech, against all odds, was facing off against an assault lance, and incredibly, everything being thrown at it missed the can shaped mech. The Urbie returned fire, savaging the advancing enemies.

Flash.

A room full of splendidly dressed people. Nobles, he guessed. A beautiful brown-haired woman sat on an exquisite chair at one end of the room. Her presence exuded regal dignity and composure. Descartin saw a tall man standing near the woman. The woman stood, and took a sword from a nearby courtier. She offered the sword hilt first to the man, her eyes pleading. The man did not reply. He gave her a slow, sad smile, shook his head, turned around, and walked away out of the room, past the shocked nobles.

With a start, Descartin realized that he was the tall man.

 

Ian Dorlacen watched pensively as the images passed him by, fearing what he might glimpse of the past and the future.

A view of a battlefield, filled with smoke and the mangled remains of destroyed mechs. A familiar Masakari staggered into view, looking like a worm-ridden corpse. Two swift looking black mechs descended on the once-powerful omni like vultures, tearing into its internal components with wild laser blasts. An Awesome strode into view, and helped the clan mech fend off its enemies.

Flash.

A city he recognized. The city he had grown up in. A fierce battle was taking place in its streets, waged by mechs and tanks and men. He stared in disbelief. His home, the place he grew up in, destroyed by war.

Flash.

He saw a wedding in progression next, looking from one end of the aisle, behind the bride who was walking towards the altar. He could recognize many of the faces in the crowd. A lot of them belonged to his merc unit, and the friends he had made over the years. He saw the groom.

It was himself.

 

Frank knew what he was seeing right now were glimpses of the future, and perhaps the past as well. The psi generated from the key machines were wrecking havoc on the natural order of the universe, causing such visions across time possible.

He saw a vast space factory, the size of a moon. Nestled within its cradles are dozens of shining ships, gleaming with bright lights and new paint. On each ship, he could see the symbol of the Star League.

Flash.

A bloated, reddish star hung in space, while a battle of almost unimaginable proportions was occurring around it. Even from his vantage point, Frank could see only a wild melee. Gigantic Warships tore at each other, while swarms of fighters charged at each other.

Suddenly, the star started shrinking, collapsing onto itself. Even more frightening to Frank was the fact that no light could be seen from the collapsed areas. Ships were there one moment, the next the space was only occupied by an intensely dark vacuum.

A black hole was born.

Flash.

As impossible as it may seem, a hooded man was standing in front of him. The man drew back his hood, revealing the face of a handsome clean shaven man with blond hair. He stepped right up to Frank, and held out his hand as if offering Frank something. Frank looked down at the mans outstretched hand, and in the palm,  he saw a circlet, studded with barbs.

He looked back to the man’s face, astonished that this was happening in a vision! The man smiled grimly, and said, “The ability to wield power demands a price. For you, it is a crown of thorns. Will you take it, and fulfill your destiny?”

Frank wanted to reply, he wanted to know more about the cryptic offer, but his throat refused to work, constricted by fear and confusion.

Flash.

 

Frank found himself back at the controls of his mech, the green lights on his console reassuring him of his mech’s status. A deep rumbling sound could be heard in the distance.

The Door was slowly opening.

“Open sesame.” Someone muttered over the comms.

 

Its chance had arrived! The machine intelligence had already sent its units creeping slowly towards the surface once the machines had started transmitting. When the doors had started opening, it finally gave the orders for an all out advance towards the doors.

It was not going to blow this precious opportunity. Huge saucers rose up through the depths of the oceans, ready to disgorge their cargo once they neared the target area.

According to the AI, they should take only three minutes to reach the doors. That should be enough to destroy all opposition and get into the base interior. The previous effort had been foiled when it did not deploy its units quickly enough. This time was going to be different.

It had learnt from its mistakes.