Tartar Reaches,

Einstein, Deep Periphery

14^th March 3068

 

The night image enhancement of the Zeus HUD display gave the landscape an eerie greenish tinge, an unreal quality that almost made Fanny Goddard feel as if she was fighting in hell.

Not that it made any difference. She was fighting in hell, such was the terror in her heart as she tried to extricate her lance out of the clutches of the unknown enemy.

The black mechs had attacked without warning. Oh sure, they have had advance warning from the Arch Lancers, but it was still a shock to see the whole mass of more than fifty black mechs descending upon them in the evening.

Fanny triggered her large pulse laser, sending a long stream of energy darts seeking through the air and lighting up her target area, punching small deep holes into the black mech. Having used the large pulse laser as a makeshift tracer, she followed up a ER PPC blast and a spread of LRMs. The particle beam cored the enemy mech, as the missiles plunged into the torso moments later, guided by her Artemis IV fire control system. The black mech exploded as its engine went critical, knocking down its compatriots on all sides, earning her a reprieve from the constant barrage of enemy fire.

Not for the first time, Fanny was glad she had spent the money from their last contract upgrading the mechs of her lance with the latest in technology instead of expanding her unit. Quality, not quantity, as one of her former commanding officers was fond of saying.

Her old Zeus-6S had undergone a major overhaul on Outreach, modified according to her own specifications. The techs had outfitted the mech with the new light engines, changed out the large laser for a pulse version, swapped out the heat sinks for double strength freezers, and basically made a new machine out of the old walking wreck.

The deep roar of a rotary autocannon brought her attention back to the battle, as Phil’s Centurion tore apart another black mech that had tried to jump to their rear. At exactly the same instant, a series of laser blasts rocked her mech, gouging furrows in the arms of her Zeus.

She chided herself for not paying attention to their retreat. Mistakes like that are often what cost mechwarriors their lives. The battle had been going for almost an hour now, and the black mechs showed no sign of halting their pursuit.

The first few minutes of the battle had been marked by a desperate rearguard action as they tried to evacuate the support personnel and crew of the Leopard dropship on any and all moving vehicles they could scrape up.

The Leopard had been destroyed several minutes ago, but not before taking a heavy toll on the enemy forces. The price in lives had been the four brave dropship gunners who had volunteered to hold the line for the others to pull the distance between them and the enemy mechs.

As she pulled her mech further back, she fervently hoped for a miracle that would save her unit.

 

Planck’s Quantum Hole, Copernicus Caldera,

Einstein, Deep Periphery

 

A miracle was in the works, but its chief architect was still unsure whether he could convince the others and pull it off. Frank Meronac had no illusions about his qualifications, or lack thereof, in the face of vastly more experienced mechwarriors.

The group leaders had all gathered in the command center, where techs had quickly set up communication interfaces and managed to get the consoles working. Holographic images of the entire planetary surface were projected, along with the positions of all the units currently on planet. Another holographic projection showed the relative positions of the jumpship and warship fleets with respect to the enemy warship and the planet Einstein itself.

Ian Dorlacen and Daniela Mattlov were staring hard at the system map, making small comments to each other as they tried to figure out the odds of one scheme after another by comparing the capabilities of the vessels involved on a sidebar, while Descartin Winters watched a couple of techs tag the units on the planetary map, his keen eyes catching every detail. Silver triangles for merc, bright emerald triangles for Falcon, black triangles for enemy ground forces, and black circles for the motherships.

From the looks of things, nobody was being spared from the massive assaults of the black mechs. The total count of black mechs on the planet came out to about 6000, the equivalent of fifty regiments, a figure equivalent to the amount of mechs the Com Guards put into the Battle of Tukayyid alone.

And us with less than a Galaxy of clanners and about 6 regiments of mercs left. It took the clans 25 Galaxies to even come close to matching the Guards in combat strength! Frank was not at all optimistic about their odds.

There was a potential force equalizer though. The two Falcon Black Lion class warships could conceivably bombard the black mechs from orbit with their naval guns. Only problem with that idea was the presence of the enemy warship, which had given the Falcons a good drubbing earlier on.

So we have to take out the enemy warship, so that the Falcon warships can do their stuff. Easier said than done. But Frank was sure he had something in the base which could even the odds.

Even better was the revelation of surface-to-orbit guns on the surface, but their major drawback was that the opening up of the huge anti-ship weapons would also enable the enemy mechs to infiltrate into the base.

So in order to keep the enemy mechs away from the gun openings, they would have to deploy ground forces to defend the areas. Which in turn would allow the planetary batteries to blast the enemy warship out of orbit, and hence enable the White and Blue Aerie to unleash their tremendous firepower at the enemy ground troops.

Frank massaged his temples, trying hard to think of an easier plan, but none was forthcoming.

“Here, take this. You look as if you could use a drink.” Frank looked up to see Deserk holding two mugs of what seemed like coffee in his hands. One mug was being proffered to him.

Frank took the mug gratefully, as Deserk continued, “The strategy session’s starting soon, everybody’s here.”

Frank nodded. “Okay, let’s go.”

Everybody was seated in a circle, with a single holographic projection in the middle. The current projection was of the location of forces on the planet.

Ian spoke first, breaking the ominous silence. “What are our objectives here?”

Daniela answered, “To defeat every single one of these black mechs?”

Descartin shook his head, “Neg. Our objective is to get off this planet alive, with the data we have managed to get here. Possession of this base would be nice, but I doubt you Falcons might be so willing to let the Spheroids have full control of it.”

“One thing that is out of the question is to hole up in here.” Lorik said. “According to the base records, the enemy warship type possesses a certain warhead that can initiate what the archives called a “Planetary Nova” reaction. Suffice to say, we do not want that to happen.”

“But then why hasn’t the enemy used it yet? Or even on the Warships?” Benny Greaves asked.

“Because it wants this place intact for its masters, wherever they might be.” Frank answered. “But I would hazard a guess that if the enemy AI feels that it’s chances have gone down the drain, it won’t hesitate to blow everything up. And it didn’t use them against the Falcons because maybe they weren’t meant for anti-ship attacks.”

They had gotten enough information from the base’s AI to realize that they were also up against an artificial intelligence controlling the enemy forces.

“That is correct.” The base AI, which some of the techs have dubbed Ally due to the acronym AI, suddenly interrupted. “Since this is a planning session, and as my existence is at stake, I have a right to involvement.”

Well, well, who told the AI about sentient rights anyway? Frank thought.

“So that means we have to destroy the enemy warship no matter what, correct?” Kety stated.

“Yup. It also presents us with a very difficult plan of action.” Frank went on to outline his plan.

After his presentation, Ian spoke first, “I had pretty much the same idea, but the biggest problem is getting enough combat strength to hold the ground batteries. We don’t have enough right now.”

“We’ll have to get the other mercs and Falcons into here. That’ll also leave us with a very small window of opportunity. We have to make the enemy think that as long it has a chance of getting the base away from us, it would not deploy the planet killer missile.”

“So how do we do that as well as getting everybody in here?”

“We send out five or six teams composed of the fastest mechs and vehicles we have. These teams would be in charge of informing the various commands of the locations of the entrances. They will have to either inform in person or by sending a laser pulse transmission, because the enemy will be able to intercept our messages.”

“Ally, where are all the entrances?” Ian asked.

“Updating map.” It replied. Red squares appeared on the map, scattered all over the landscape.

“These entrances have never been used, have they?” Frank asked.

“That is correct.” The AI answered.

“So what we have to do is to get the other mercs into these holes. And the very first step is to get them the coordinates in the first place. That’ll be up to Bryan and his fast movers.”

“And after that?” Ian asked.

“At a certain predetermined time, which I have not decided yet, the units will wheel away from the enemy and proceed at max speed to the nearest entrance. Not simultaneously, but in waves, so that the black mechs might be fooled into chasing units that are about to reach safety.”

“But once everybody’s in here, the enemy might just want to forgo all this grief and blast us into vapor.” Somebody argued.

Frank insisted. “That’s why we need to maintain a presence outside, to act as bait. The message teams will have to stay alive while we try to fix up the mechs and tanks we have. Once we’re ready, we’ll go on the offensive.”

“What if they just decide to start blasting away with their warship?” Descartin pointed out.

Rubbing his head tiredly, Frank admitted, “Then we’re sunk. It hasn’t done that so far, and let’s hope that’ll continue.”

 

Kily Gonzalez stared up at his Wolfhound, currently patched up by a veritable army of techs. They had worked wonders in the last few hours, the Wolfhound almost restored to full combat efficiency.

He wished he could say the same for himself. He had almost lost his nerve again during the last wild battle to rescue the Falcons. This time, it wasn’t the fear of facing superior warriors in superior mechs, but the fear of being overwhelmed by never-ending swarms of enemies.

They just kept on coming.

He remembered being panic stricken when both the arms of his mech had been blown off, leaving him with only two medium lasers to defend himself. Even without Frank’s order to sprint for safety, he would have done so on his own.

He had gotten a good chewing out from Lorik, and then Bryan, his lance commander for what he did in the command center. Frank had understood, and had even taken him aside for a quick talk to reassure his fears, but that had no effect this time.

He just felt bad, and he could figure out why, which made it worse.

He was afraid of dying, afraid of failing, afraid of letting his lancemates down. He couldn’t stop shivering whenever he thought of leaving the safe sanctuary of the base. From all accounts, it was hell outside, a hell made by the black mechs.

And they were going back to that hell.

“Kily!” He heard a shout from Bryan. “Stop dithering and prep your mech! We don’t have much time!”

“Roger!” Kily shouted back, though his heart was not in it.

He climbed up a ladder to his mech cockpit. His cockpit had already been cleaned by the techs, all traces of his fear, especially the vomit after the battle, already removed from the small compartment. Somebody had even sprayed the cockpit with air freshener, leaving a cloyingly citric smell that was almost sickening.

Kily started up his mech, and his Wolfhound was soon sprinting down a corridor, following the other members of his lance. The dread he felt refused to go away, not even after he saw the other mechs of his lance stride with confidence out of the repair bay.

I can’t run from this either. Frank said it best, everybody has to fight. But I don’t want to die…

“Hey, Kily, how are you feeling?” A voice suddenly came over his comms Kily recognized it as Deserk. “Are you afraid of battle?”. He did not reply.

“I could sense your fear from a mile away, and I know that even now, you are wrestling with your fear, thinking of abandoning the battle that is soon to be fought. Frank came to me with your problem, but by the time I was free to talk to you, you were already deployed.”

His mech continued to move down the corridor to a transit point where a massive internal rail would move their lance to the designated exit point.

“Now let me tell you something. Within every warrior, there also exists a shard of fear. Nobody is immune from it, nobody can avoid feeling it. But fear is a good thing. It tells us when not to take unnecessary risks, when to be more cautious. What you feel is perfectly natural.”

“What you should not do is to suppress that fear. By recognizing that fear and embracing it, your courage will be augmented by the knowledge of why you’re being courageous. Your senses will be sharper, because all the time you will be alert to the dangers that may surround you.”

Kily could already feel himself feeling better as he listened to the older and wiser mechwarriors. He allowed the fear to permeate throughout his body, instead of trying to pool and press it within his stomach. He felt a bit stronger as he did so.

“Feel better already? Godspeed and kick some ass for us!” Kily grinned as he heard Deserk cut off the transmission.

The Dragoon was right. Fear was something to be accepted, because it was useful to a warrior.

When they finally reached the transit point where an automated carriage was waiting for them, to transport them to near their exit point, Kily was actually eager for the coming battle. He checked the status of his Wolfhound’s lasers, ready to tear some black mechs into scrap.

 

As he watched the various small icons representing their message teams move around on the holographic map, Ian Dorlacen clenched and unclenched his fists methodically. He wished he was out there, even in one of those light mechs. He wished he was doing something, anything, rather than being stuck in the base doing nothing.

In the end, eight teams of three or four mechs and vehicles each had been deployed, two to each continent. Some of the Falcons had protested about their assignments, but Star Captain Daniela Mattlov had managed to force the issue through.

First out was the recon lance of the Raiders. Brevet Lieutenant Bryan was leading a lance consisting of his Fenris, a Wolfhound, a Talon and a Spider.

Next was the Lancers’ contribution. One Raven, a Puma and a Fire Falcon salvaged from the Falcons earlier on, led by Hong Guan De. A Garm that was normally part of the lance had been dropped due to its slower top speed, which was less than that of an Ant.

The Falcons had provided two units. One consisted of an Uller, a Koshi and a Dasher. The second unit had a Fenris, one Dragonfly, and a Puma.

The fifth unit was a mixed force. One Dragonfly, one Puma from the Falcons, and a Wasp from Rasouf’s Rangers, courtesy of Benny Greaves. The commander of this unit was Star Commander Helen, formerly of Trinary Gamma.

The sixth unit consisted of the three remaining Regulators from Ian’s battered tank company. They had been assigned to the flat areas, where their speed would not be hindered by terrain.

Likewise, the two lances of Harassers from Harry’s Harassers were also assigned to cover the plains, forming two units. The two remaining tank crews were left unhappily in the base to help with the repair of the other machines.

Ian sympathized with them, just as he wanted to be at the forefront of the battle.

He felt a light touch on his shoulder, and saw the beautiful face of Daniela Mattlov as he swiveled his chair around.

“It is not easy, quiaff? To wait here instead of fighting.” She said softly as she took a nearby seat.

“Yeah. I think no commander will ever want to stand and just watch while his men are fighting, and possibly dying.”

“I know. I have the same feelings every time my Star Colonel bids away my star and uses some other part of his command instead. Then I would do nothing but sit near the holotank, awaiting the latest updates on the battle.” She shrugged. “I have become used to this. It is part of being clan.”

“How then, do you endure this waiting?”

“You handpicked your people, quiaff? Trained them, and fought beside them?” She waited for his nod. “Then you should know their strengths and their abilities. Be confident in them, and be confident that you did the best you could to prepare them. Leave the rest in the hands of your warriors. Trust that they will fulfill their mission. I have no doubt we will win.”

“We as in everybody, or just your Falcons?” He noted her shocked look, and quickly apologized.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to come off that strongly. I just want to know if you are happy to be on the same side as us filthy mercs.”

“Not exactly happy, but not as disgusted as you might think either.” She scoffed. “You have proven your courage and skill in our previous battles, and honorable warriors are never unwelcome. And we will need every warrior in the battle ahead.”

“Well, I hope to survive long enough for our duel, or have you forgotten it already?”

“Neg. I remember, and I wish that you will uphold your end of our agreement as well.” A smile returned to her face.

They sat there for a while in amicable silence, before Ian noticed a change on the map, as some of the red squares started blinking, indicating that they were about to opened.

“Look,” He pointed out to Daniela, “the teams are deploying to the exterior.”

 

Tartar Reaches,

Einstein, Deep Periphery

 

After an incredible ride on the transit system, which had taken them just five minutes to traverse 600 kilometers, Bryan’s lance marched out of the transport and into another short corridor. The tunnel was not as large as the one at the Door, but still wide enough to accommodate their mechs.

After a short distance, they came to a small door. Bryan’s voice entered their cockpits.

“Alright guys, this is it. Once we’re out there, we’re in it all the way until Frank tells us otherwise. Our job, as you already know, is to get to as many units as possible and point them in the direction of safety using the plan. Each of you has a copy of the plan in your computer systems. You are to pass on the plan in a tightbeam transmission or by hand in a disk, if possible.”

“I have no idea how long we’ll be out there, but don’t give up no matter the odds. Our mechs are faster than the enemy’s, and we pack more guns. Stay calm, and rely on your speed to keep yourself safe.” He paused.

“So everybody ready? Kily?”

“Check, ready to go.” Kily had gained a wary confidence after the advice from Deserk.

“Lee?”

“Happy to go hunting.” The former Capellan soldier growled.

“Patrice?”

“Just running with the pack, sir.” It was an inside comment that only the Dragoons knew and understood. Kily could almost feel Bryan grinning, as he contacted the techs inside the main base to open the door at their location.

The door slid open smoothly, and they quickly stepped out into the moonlit night. The door closed behind them, as though the techs controlling it had no intention of leaving it open any longer than required.

Kily looked at his map, which was receiving a steady stream of data concerning the positions of the units they were looking for. The data came by way of a new communications set installed by the techs, which offered a much more powerful broad/narrow band signal reception and transmission than even the old Ostscout’s communications suite. From what Kily knew, the set actually came from a stockpile of alien devices in the base. Lorik had a bunch of techs modify them to make them compatible to human interface systems. Kily was very grateful for the extra edge it gave him.

They had not bothered to hide the scanning info from the base, because the enemy AI would also have such data available from its own scanners. What should be kept hidden from it were the locations of the entrances.

“Move out.” The order finally came, as Bryan started his Fenris sprinting into the distance towards the nearest friendly unit. Kily’s Wolfhound was next, followed by Lee’s Spider, with Patrice’s Talon covering their rear.

 

After an hour of hard marching, they came across their first target unit, which was under strong pressure from the enemy as they sought to disengage. As Bryan and his lance approached, black mechs were already racing into position to intercept them, a strong force of more than ten mechs of assorted weight classes.

Bryan had no intention playing the game by their rules, however. He pushed the lance to the top of a nearby hill rise, and they proceeded to rain long range fire down onto the enemy machines, using their speed to maintain their distance. Lee, as the only member of the lance to lack long range weapons on his Spider, kept an eye out for flanking movements by enemy Ants.

Kily did not hesitate as the enemy mechs came within range, firing off his ER large laser at a Lemming that was quickly followed by a rapid follow up shot by Bryan with his ER PPC, both shots slamming into the middle of the mech one after the other. The Lemming exploded almost instantly, as the undiminished energy of the particle blast devoured its fragile internal structure with ease.

Patrice’s Talon targeted an advancing Smasher, firing off her own ER PPC. The shot carved into the mech’s left arm, hardly a fatal wound, but enough to open up the limb for a much more damaging attack.

The intrusion of the Raiders had drawn off some of the forces pressing the unit they were trying to reach, an unit called Goddard’s Goliaths. As more enemy mechs veered off to deal with the fast moving Raiders, it gave Lee a chance to outflank the black mechs.

Meanwhile, Kily continued using his speed and range to inflict punishment on the black mechs without taking any return fire. Bryan pulled the others back, opening a gap between the black mechs chasing him and the black mechs pressing the Goliaths.

They were doing quite well so far, having destroyed five mechs. Lee’s Spider jumped its prodigious way towards the Goliaths, as he tried to get a clear shot at transmitting the retreat plan to a Zeus that they had identified as the commander.

“Lieutenant Goddard! This is Lee from the Raiders! I’m going to transmit a tightbeam data package to you! It’s very important, so don’t put it out on broadband! You don’t know who might be listening! Transmitting now!”

“This is Fanny Goddard! What are you doing? Come back here and help us!”

“Sorry! Orders are for us to help you break off the pursuit only. You’ll have to make your own way to the safe area!” There was a short pause.

“Okay, package received! I understand now.” Goddard replied as Lee’s Spider jumped back up towards the rest of his lancemates. A determined application of firepower by the Goliaths had managed to shatter most of the heavy mechs pressing them, allowing them to start a headlong retreat away from the main enemy force.

Kily waited for Bryan’s signal to start their own retreat, as he blasted another Ant apart by triggering an ammunition explosion within the light drone.

“Start pulling back! We’ve finished our first assignment!” Bryan held his ground for a moment as he took the opportunity to finish off the Smasher that Patrice had hurt earlier, before turning his Fenris around to follow Kily’s Wolfhound that was already dashing away.

One unit down, seven more to go.

 

The machine intelligence made one calculation after another, but there were too many variables for it to determine whether the battle being fought was now a lost cause.

That the flesh beings had gained possession of the base was not in doubt, but neither were its chances of wresting it away from them completely gone.

Its forces on planet were all attacking the flesh beings, as it tried to lure those inside to come out to rescue their comrades.

And it was succeeding. Eight small detachments had been detected leaving various points on the planet, heading towards their fellow flesh beings. The machine intelligence had already sent several drones to those locations to try to find a way past the doors, though it was sure that there would not be any.

It concluded it would be better off pursuing a few units with the bulk of its forces. The units chased should not be so small that they would be crushed completely, but not so large that it would take too long to destroy them either. The drone programs did not leave much leeway for restraint.

It made a logical guess that the flesh beings would be seeking to bring those outside into the safety of the underground facility. To do so, they would have to open up the entrances.

And the machine intelligence intended to take full advantage of that.

 

Planck’s Quantum Hole, Copernicus Caldera,

Einstein, Deep Periphery

 

“What are the forces available to us now?” Frank asked a hectic Pascal Thome, with Des Winters and Deserk and some other mechwarriors behind him. The master tech was shouting loudly at a bunch of techs working on Daniela Mattlov’s Masakari when Frank had arrived on the scene with them in tow.

They had located a bay near the command center suitable for repairing all their mechs. It had taken quite a while, but repairs were proceeding at a brisk pace.

So far, about twenty units have converged into four larger groups of about a battalion each in size, composed of both merc and Falcon forces. Frank was adamant that they recover these units, which comprised a full twenty percent of all human forces on the world.

There was nowhere else for them to go. Some dropships had managed to elude the blockade by pushing their engines to the limit, joining Valten Folkner’s scratch force in space. Unfortunately, they had also left their cargoes behind, the mercs or Falcons being transported having to fight for their lives on the ground. The rest of the dropships were destroyed on the ground.

Daniela Mattlov had managed to get into contact with Star Commodore Valten Folkner, and explained Frank’s plan to him. Folkner had refused to consider it, however, and he wanted at least a Star Colonel to vet the plan before he would agree to it. Nevertheless, he had given them an update on the status of his own fleet, as well the one still stationed at the nadir jump point.

The battalion sized groups, one of which contained Lizabet Danforth’s Mad Cat, were about to reach their designated entrances in thirty minutes time. Two of the groups were being chased by a huge number of enemy mechs. Frank wanted at least a company of mechs with some vehicles at two of the gates to provide some support as the units entered the tunnels.

“Forces available, eh?” Pascal wiped off some sweat from his brow. “Captain Winters, your personal tech says that your three mechs are up and ready to go. However, he also says that supplies are running short, what with your stuff being used to fix up the Falcons. Frank, we’ve only four mechs from the Raiders ready for action. Your Night Gyr’s still a mess. Add one more lance from the Lancers, and that’s the most I can give you in mechs. None of the Falcons are ready for action yet.”

“Just one company of mechs?” Frank had half-expected such an answer, but it was still disappointing to hear it.

“Add in the Sticklers, and you should have enough.” Descartin Winters noted. The Sorrowful Sticklers were two companies of heavy and assault tanks that had sat out the rescue, with only their aerospace contingent taking part in the fight. They had finally thrown in with Frank’s plan, after he had carefully explained the stakes.

Frank admitted that their Alacorn Mk VI and Manticore tanks would be very useful. The three gauss rifles on each Alacorn made them very intimidating opponents, even for mechs.

Frank turned to the warriors behind him, “Okay, send the order out to Major Soros to deploy his tanks, the Alacorn company to alpha entrance, and the Manticore one to beta. Des, you accompany the Alacorn unit, while Kety, you’ll take the two lances from the Lancers and the Raiders to support the Manticore company.”

When he had finished, the warriors assigned quickly moved to obey his orders.

“You seem to have settled quite well into your role,” commented Deserk.

Frank snorted, “Huh, it’s all I can do to keep my head above water.” He started moving to the nearest teleporter. He punched in the option for going to the command center, and the two warriors quickly stepped through.

They emerged amidst an almost quiet command center, where a few communications specialists were passing on information about enemy and friendly movements to the message teams. It was a stark contrast with the hustle and bustle of the repair bay.

Other than the comms personnel, only Ian and Daniela were in the room. They were talking softly to each other. Frank could see a grin on Deserk’s face as they walked to another holotank. It took Frank a while before he figured it out.

He nearly kicked himself for not noticing it earlier. There was a definite spark between Ian and Daniela, and it was so obvious that even bystanders could have noticed it. Frank wondered if they knew it themselves.

A mercenary commander and a Falcon bloodnamed warrior. Who would’ve thought? Frank didn’t give their relationship much chance of a future, considering the problems involved. Anyway, there were more important issues to worry about.

Like between you and Clarice? A voice spoke in his head. Frank ignored it, as he looked at the holotank.

He punched in several commands, and the map of the planet disappeared, to be replaced by a picture of a massive warship.

“What are you looking at?” Deserk asked.

“The enemy warship. What it can do, what it can’t, and what we can do to destroy it.”

“There’s one thing I don’t quite understand.” Frank could hear concern in Deserk’s voice.

“And what’s that?” Frank looked up from the specifications of the enemy ship.

“If the Qlictorio aliens were so advanced, why did they get wiped out? Were this Dark Army so powerful, so implacable that they had no chance?”

Frank pursed his lips, thinking. Deserk was right. They had been so caught up in the campaign and with trying to understand the alien data that they had neglected this part.

The historical records Des Winters had uncovered had only shown the how, but not the whys. The records had stated that a massive fleet had appeared out of nowhere and started laying waste to their cities. Hordes of machines and terrifying warriors had descended on their worlds, capturing whole populations and uprooting entire industries. Nobody knew what happened to those captured, and nobody ever found out.

The Qlictorio Alliance fought back, but they were simply outmatched. Almost every battle fought was a defeat, every counterstrike an abysmal failure. Their technological standards were on par with the enemy forces, but they lost battles even when the forces were supposed to be equal. Heck, they even lost battles against the drones, when the drones were the ones outnumbered!

Then why? Frank asked himself. What are the other factors that determines the quality of an army? It did not take him long to realize the answer.

Experience. Training. Command. Acting on a hunch, Frank and Deserk checked the history of the Qlictorio Alliance. He was not surprised at all to find out that the last war fought by any of the Alliance races was before they had even developed space travel. Or more accurately, in their equivalent of the Stone Age. And that was almost fifty thousand years before they were attacked by the Dark Army.

The few training manuals he managed to access from the databanks were almost laughable in intent and objective. There was little mention of a hierarchy of command, or standard battle tactics. Instead, the focus was placed on democratic command, individual decision making, and they even advocated diplomacy before starting an attack! Deserk was bawling madly with laughter and contempt as he read the articles.

A liberal’s wet dream. Frank groaned. With such information, they had no problem pinpointing the problems that led to the demise of the Qlictorio Alliance. In a way, he was astounded that any civilization could have survived fifty thousand years without some manner of conflict.

In comparison, humanity has never had even a century of total peace. Even during the era of the Star League, there were hidden wars and other innuendo that could hardly be construed as peaceful activities.

But it was humanity’s history of war that had given the mercenaries and the Falcons both the structures and mindset necessary to oppose the drones. Five thousand years of unending struggle had made humanity a hardy race in terms of psyche and organization.

Were the clans right then, to claim that war makes people strong? That conflict leads to progress? Frank refused to believe that war was a better state of affairs than peace.

“You really think that war was, and could be, our edge?” He asked Deserk.

“That seemed to be the only, and easiest explanation, right?”

Frank sighed. “Occam’s Razor.” He rolled his eyes. “I can’t believe I’m advocating war as being good for humanity.”

“But without the wars we have fought, without the stakes for us to fight over, would we have developed the spine to endure? From their records, whole populations just gave up as soon as they lost their defenders, or what passes for defenders in those times. Imagine the very same thing occurring on an Inner Sphere or even a clan world. What do you think would have happened?”

“Let me guess. Riots, guerilla attacks, frenzied civilians trying to maintain their freedom at all costs?”

“Bingo.” The use of the slang by a clanner emphasized its meaning. “The Nova Cats suffered from such during the invasion. People like their freedoms, their way of life. Even in the Draconis Combine. Give me liberty or give me death, and all that.”

“With the ISF? I find that hard to believe, actually, but the facts don’t lie.” The ISF, short for Internal Security Force, was the most feared intelligence and spying agency in the Inner Sphere, even going as far as to spy or carry out hit missions on their own citizens.

“That’s your Fed Com prejudice talking.”

“In any case, it’s still early to say of our chances. These are only the drones, the lackeys. According to the records, the drones were the lowest of the low, the lousiest they had. Their good stuff, and some of it is really very good, are easily better than even clantech.”

“Furthermore,” Frank added, “We haven’t even got past this hurdle yet. So I wouldn’t be too confident.”

“Hey Frank!” Denilson shouted from the entrance to the command center.

“Yeah?”

“I’ve found what you sent me to find. Star Commander Parrot and the aerojocks are also all waiting outside, per your instructions.” Denilson flicked a thumb casually over his shoulder.

“My name is not Parrot!” A furious voice yelled out. Sounds of a short scuffle were heard before it ended abruptly.

Galietra Binneti was not the only Falcon pilot to be rescued from the ill-fated aerial battle. Four other Falcon pilots had been rescued as well. It had taken quite a lot of med-patches and a scolding from Daniela Mattlov before they had calmed down enough to listen to reason.

Frank grinned. “Alright, lead the way. Dee,” he had gotten tired of calling the Dragoon by his full name, “Stay here and keep an eye on things. Tell Ian if anything happens.” Deserk gave a wave as acknowledgement.

Frank and the pilots followed Denilson to another of the innumerous cargo bays located in the base. Denilson opened the cargo door, and they walked into a pitch-black room.

“Hey, who turned off the lights?” A merc shouted.

“Wait a minute, I’m finding the switch,” Denilson shouted back. “Got it!”

As the lights came on, the pilots found themselves staring at a breathtaking scene.

Thirty gleaming fighters, obviously not of human origin, stared back at them.

Somebody whistled softly, “Oh baby, that’s has gotta be one hot ride.”

Galietra Binneti looked over at Frank. “You knew they were here, quiaff?”

Frank frowned, “The records indicated that they might be here. The inventory records were not very well kept, which was why I had to send Denilson to confirm. Even Ally wasn’t sure, because this cargo bay was of the few that were ‘locked’ to it.”

The whole group had walked over to the fighters, all white in color. Each was vaguely the shape of a flying wing, but there were various weapons nacelles and protrusions from the fuselage. The armor material was made up of a close cousin to that of the base doors, an extremely hard material that they weren’t able to get an equivalent name translation yet.

“Alright guys, listen up!” Frank slapped the surface of a nearby fighter to get their attention. The pilots were all drooling over the alien fighters, but they quickly gave him their undivided attention. Frank noted with distaste a small pool of saliva near the feet of one of the mercs.

“These are alien aerospace fighters, as you have all undoubtedly guessed by now! What you don’t know are their capabilities. Yup, they’re faster and more maneuverable than your old flying crates, but that’s not all! They pack advanced weaponry, and they have shields!” Damn, I sound like a salesman.

Murmurs arose at his words.

“Shields? As in energy shields to deflect hits?” Galietra asked. Everybody had already heard of the enemy warship which had thrashed the Falcon Black Lions.

Frank nodded. “The very same. According to the database, these are also equipped with very specially developed missiles capable of defeating the shield defenses of warships. The aliens developed them near the end of the war, but only got the chance to use them once before they were finally all wiped out. You guys can probably guess what I mean now.”

Galietra proved again that he was no slouch by answering first. “You want us to pilot these fighters and take out the enemy warship with the missiles. But what about the interface? If these are for aliens, how are we humans going to fly them”

Frank had anticipated the question. “I’m getting the aerospace techs here, they will be working to change the internal configurations to suit human ergonomics. What you should do in the meantime, however, is to familiarize yourself with your new fighter systems. The data can be accessed in the command center, or any console in the base, for that matter.”

Frank turned to walk away, then stopped, as he remembered something. “And oh, you guys have to choose a wing leader.” He hurriedly walked out of the cargo bay before he could be involved in the inevitable fracas. Denilson took one look at the pilots, sensed the tension, and quickly dashed out the cargo bay as well.

 

“Okay, who’s the boss?” Peggy Yeager, otherwise known as Bird Lead in the rescue mission, stared around challengingly, especially at Galietra Binneti.

Predictably, the filthy freebirths all pointed to her, ”You’re the boss,” the spheroids said, while his own warriors stood behind him

Gal growled menacingly. “Why should you be the leader? I am better than you.”

“Prove it.” She stared at him.

He stared back angrily. “Fine. Would you be so gracious as to form a Circle of Equals? Let us use a Trial of Position to decide this!”

“Uh, pardon me for saying this,” A pilot named Hank Cashew spoke up, “But we can’t afford to have anyone incapacitated at this point.”

“Then you do you suggest?” Gal turned furiously on Hank.

Hank quickly held up his hands in defense. “Uh, wouldn’t a simple test of speed, reflexes, and endurance be sufficient?”

“Pray tell, what sort of test do you have in mind?” Peggy asked sweetly, but it was obvious she was not amused.

Hank thought hard for a moment, then it struck him.

“Aha!”

Twenty minutes later, Wing Commander Galietra Binneti was nursing his badly reddened palms as his warriors cheered his victory. Peggy Yeager yelped loudly as she plunged her bruised hands into a bucket of cold water a concerned pilot had brought for them. Another pilot ran off to get some ointment.

Hank’s idea had been a game of ‘slap the hands’…