I Davion
Part 3
They had relocated to the remains of... what his map beacon said had been a precious jewel mine that had at some point eaten a nuke during the first or second succession war. It had been a small nuke of course, an alamo was the most likely culprit. Background radiation was nothing dangerous... though you probably didn't want to drink the water without double checking it, if you could help it... but that was more likely a is this tainted by industrial mining run off than the nuke.
In real terms though it made a change of pace to duel the combine in. The truth was that the Combine had a greater reserves of Mechs though... and it was starting to show. Hanzo's Cicada was after three rounds no longer able to continue... and they were lucky it had lasted that long. Bahar was hanging on, but Septim's early knockout from the 'competition' had done them no favors.
In a way he was kind of glad that the Combine only apparently had the single Stalker left in the Assault weight class. Abner had yet to be challenged, and most of the fighting had been confined to medium and heavy weight mechs.
The grey white Marauder paced into the arena at a canter. The big pit was ... well miles across, complete with access to mining shafts large enough for BattleMechs. He reached up to adjust the Dalban as it lased a connection to Abner's Atlas II, and from there to the SLDF Drones waiting. They had a trip wire of Furys standing by, but he was hoping that that wouldn't be necessary.
"You killed General Samsonov?"
"and," Well probably both first and thirds officers... though Bahar could have nailed 3
rd Battalion's CO... "Colonel Tanida as well."
"Ah, did he die well?"
"Cleanly, at least." He replied.
"A good death is its own reward." The pudgy major agreed taking his eighty five tonner over the concrete divider, and low chain with a sandblasted stop sign.
Gene blinked through the notification to relay his report on weapon performance to Hegemony R&D as he turned master arm on, and unsafed the Marauder's weapons. He didn't respond to his opposite's comment... even though he'd almost quipped that was a lot more appealing when a Valkyrie said it.
A timer from the projector started. A bright red 3 2 1...
The Assault class workhorse fired both LRM 10s and large lasers. Only the lasers came close but the LRMs kicked up a mass of dirt and dust that filled the old open pit mine. Not that he needed visuals, the heat on thermals through the MMI feed from his Dalban made the bigger mech standout. PPCs opened, scoring angry blue, and then orange white flames as the dust burned into the left torso armor of the Stalker.
Major Hashiba did not immediately return fire. A few seconds passed, and for a moment Gene considered whether or not his own thermals had given an implication away regarding the fact his mech had double heat sinks. His Dalban had started flagging comms traffic through the net... something else was going on.
Hashiba's face appeared, "Ah, gomen, a moment please to resolve this disturbance."
Gene nodded silently and the channel closed. Once the line was closed his eyes narrowed, he didn't like this. He knew the combine had another company out there checking the locals... and the most obvious situation was that something had happened with them. They clearly hadn't stolen a march this way, as he was relatively sure that would have tripped their pickets on look out. He keyed the SLDF secure royal comm channel, "Abner whats going on?"
"The DCA just broadcasted something. It wasn't, it wasn't a message, some kind of warning. I'm trying to resolve now, Tristan said he'd get back to me." The professor replied from his Atlas. His first assumption was incoming airpower of some sort. Conventional Air Breathers, ASF, other dropships... which was close but not quite accurate. Abner's line reconnected to his mech, "Mister Pasha has returned with Davion regulars to reinforce."
Which sounded great. It did. Except that there were a bunch of combine mechs around them, and the distance from Jump point was measures in literally a week and change. "Stand by." He turned the com laser to Hashiba's stalker, "Given the situation we have a few days to resolve this before the new comers spoil things." Please work... please don't decide to banzai charge into a general free for all.
Hashiba's image solidified, "Hai. I am prepared to resume." The still running warm eighty five tonner lumbered forward a couple of paces, and fired the same weapons to a similar though magnified effect of kicking up an interminable amount of dust.
In hindsight it made sense that the auto cannon would jam eventually, and would choose to do so after that three round burst had woofed over the Stalker and bit into the pit mine's outer ring. The PPCs slashed into armor, but Gene cursed the missed shot and not having advanced all the same, especially as Hashiba once again advanced his mech and the SRMs joined the LRMs pushing the Stalker dangerously hot.
He grunted as a missile found its way home in the mech's shoulder while another probably had his the left arm. The rattling subsided as he glanced at the inoperable notice due to the jammed ammunition feed. Gene reached up to safe the Autocannon as a matter of procedure and brought both Medium Lasers online. The strikes his the beak, but more center armor line than the cockpit, probably all on the center armor belt if he had to guess.
No lasers this time, Hashiba had figured out getting closer was the way to insure his big mech could hit, and they were within three hundred meters. After the vibrations cleared though and he blinked through the armor display he flipped off the PPCs and punched the left torso, and into the ammunition bin for the SRM 6 that just made his ears ring. An explosion followed and something in the mech's shoulder gave, probably fragments into the gyro given how the Stalker suddenly lurched rightwards and took two drunk steps in that direction as it tried to correct.
Hashiba was already too far, overcorrecting for the lurch and pushing his nose the other way and brought his mech forward as he did so. A warning indicator on the Marauder's dash warned him of hte incoming alpha strike a split second too late the right SRM 6 sent two wide entirely flying into the wall behind, another smacked his left arm again, a torso, and left leg. Gene rearmed the PPC advanced into effectively point blank and fired both through the cockpit at roughly forty meters in a gratifyingly gratuitous overkill coup de grace. "Tristan, stand by for potential fire mission." He ordered as he started tagging secondary target areas for the AI. He wouldn't have time to direct the drones so the best he'd be able to do was assign targets in specific areas, or specific enemy units.
A Dragon walked down into the arena the jack o'lantern painted on it wreathed in stylized flames. "My turn." The pilot declared raising his autocannon... and then proceeded to completely underestimate the range and drop all five shots of the burst into the dirt seventy odd yards from the Marauder's feet.
Gene keyed his mike, "Standby," He ordered along the company channel. His hands found the joysticks and adjusted his machine to face the new challenger. A glance at the controls informed him the DHS were doing their job at least where with standards he'd have been fighting serious waste heat from the Extended Range PPCs he didn't have that problem ... or at least not as much of it.
Not that Sanada had any real way to know that as his sixty tonner found that his Imperator A had fallen short, direct fire energy weapons didn't so much drop as disperse... and didn't do that at ranges below a kilometer... not to any meaningful degree in the Hellstar's case. At half a kilck both PPCs hit the grey snout of the Rekka company command mech, relatively high for where he'd been aiming. One and a quarter tons of armor boiled away under ball lighting, and leaving less than a ton protecting the internals of the sixty ton mech's center torso.
The almost painfully cliche totem mech of the Combine charged head on right arm sending another five rounds down range, and missiles spewing from blackened chest. He might have honestly been better off doing one or another. Running and shooting while possible was often not practical. A second pair of lightning bolts burned through the rest of the armor and into the center torso, failing to find anything critical in its VLAR 300 but either hitting, or as a by product of the particle beams, otherwise fritzing the gyro sending the mech crashing into the dirt.
He heard professor Abner give a quiet sigh over the line as the Dragon's engine went dark.
--
Septim resisted the urge to rub his nose, and sucked in another breath. "Where's the boss?" He asked looking around the Daimyo for something to do.
"Currently on patrol as a precaution."
Leaving aside that he was pretty sure the combine troops who hadn't died in the duels had found themselves in something the bossed called a double envelopment, which seemed like just a really complicated pincer maneuver involved two dozen heavy drone tanks suddenly crawling up the snakes' backside... "Ok where is Bahar?"
"Liaising with the JumpShips." The Maganac officer replied.
He wasn't sure if the six JumpShips, he didn't think so, that had been stated to be at the Nadir point included the Combine JumpShips or not... they could have been at Zenith he wasn't sure. Whatever the case they had a few days to untangle the mess before things moved on. "So what's this then?"
"The report for the 63
rd Mechanized Infantry Division Depot we managed to get open." The Armor captain declared. "We're going to take stock of what's there, and rearm and refit with what we can. We noticed it has spare parts, myomer bundles some vehicles we can load as replacements. Most of the depot was cleaned out by units Tristan reported were subsequently shot down over the ocean."
The mention of the AI made sense. They weren't going to tell the natives about the Star League Machine spirit or its castle... hell to the best of Septim's knowledge after the ... probably combine spy .... traitorous TA they weren't even going to mention the castle at all. Most of the Interstellar personnel didn't even know, and the hidden tram line was separate from the others sealed off behind a hidden door with some kind of super secret hegemony lock that only responded to the credentials of Hegemony Knights or something... "Are we going to hand it over to the Davions?"
"That's the plan. The facility anyway, but we need to take the San Saba," Their new Triumph, "And I need a ranking officer to supervise."
... you're the only one who isn't busy went unsaid, but certainly implied. "Well," Septim chuckled, even though it hurt to laugh with his nose, "Well I'm not doing anything lets go be industrious."
--
They had given the DCMS personnel two choices ... well three the implied you could always surrender though had been there. The first of course was to resume dueling this out in honorable single combat and stuff. The second was to go to a full free for all. What they hadn't exactly mentioned was that they had already begun collapsing their armor pickets into the area around the dueling space, and had unsafed the Sam Houston's weapons in case they picked the latter.
Most of the Combine warriors had picked the former though.
It would still take ... probably weeks of work to repair all of the damage, months even but such was the case. Nothing he could do about it. That left him with other things to do. Ford was sitting at one of the terminals, "Did you write this?"
Gene leaned over to look at the screen. "I did."
"This is good." The Federated Suns native laughed, "I mean especially if you wanted to really tweak the combine's nose."
' ... The Kazoku, or most commonly translated as peerage, on Terra was abolished in 1947. It had replaced an earlier split aristocracy in the form of the Shizoku and Kuge to distinguish them from commoners... to that extent this historical backing creates problems with the modern Combine's preferred rendering.
Daimyo means great name, and while it is not completely unreasonable to equate this to mean to Marquis Tozama Daimyo were in the ancient rules of Japan on Terra were 'great names' who existed as part of lineages who were not historical vassals of the last of Japan's great unifiers. Indeed Marquis might be a more appropriate use of Tozama Daimyo than Daimyo as a stand alone... within the Kazoku the equivalent to the English Marquess, the basis for the latter unified Terran peerage, was Koshaku. Count, or Earl, was equivalent in the Kazoku...'
It went on, and into a summary table, with a distinction in the characters to write Koshaku for Prince or Marquess respectively Then through count, viscount and baron.'
"I just found the Combine's use of Shogun for Ducal titles to be, quite silly, and it spiraled from there."
Ford marveled at him, and laughed, "I have to have a copy of this. OR better yet, get the Professor to circulate it on New Kyoto, they'll be happy to publish it." Ford's humor continued, "I mean for that matter, your annotations on the first edition of the Dictum Honorium were really what I was looking to read. I could never get through the modern edition of the book. Its positively exhausting to read through."
"What edition are they up to?"
"The eleventh, revision they call it. Horribly ponderous, six volumes." He shook his head, "I heard about Mr Alexander, he's going to be alight?"
"He's got a broken nose from the ejection seat, but at least it worked." He replied, "The Merlin will be getting a rebuild." was being rebuilt.
Ford prepared to say something, but stopped as the sagging tired form of professor Abner saddled into a spare chair, "I know its part of the job, but I feel horrible." He exhaled, "I never expected all of this, I certainly didn't mean for you to end up wrapped up in the games of the great houses, or their bloody wars." He complained that while the dig had exceeded his wildest expectations and he couldn't say things had not been worth it, "We will pay you for all the damage, and passage to Robinson at least. We'll be going there as well. In fact, Mr Ford?"
"There is a good chance that we will be all of us going to New Avalon apparently Precentor Vandal of New Avalon is apoplectic at the Combine's man taking their man on Elidere hostage in the HPG station. Word about what all else has happened on Elidere has also started making the news. You'll never have to buy drinks in at least the Draconis March ever again." Seeing his face twist, Abner's eye brows knitted up again, "Something the matter?"
"Normally I'd run this by Pasha," But the JumpShip Captain was still busy ferrying them more Davion reinforcement... that admittedly they didn't need. "We got in the 63
rd MID's depot," Not much there, most of its contents had probably been splashed into the sea when Tristan had shot down the Dropships... but that wasn't the point. "There is another depot that should be intact, its on Galtor Three."
"And you're wondering what to do with that information?"
"I'm not going there, to be honest, I need to hire more people, and that was true before we took this gig. The unit is understrength, and after this I'm prepared to spend money to get that underway," Even if he didn't expect to have that fixed, "before heading back to the periphery."
The two academics shared looks, "Well," Abner cleared his throat, and made a show of checking his ornate pocket watch, "I can understand that. I must be off my fellows, lunch is calling."
"Hiring would be a good idea. Lord Aaron I'm afraid is a man of grand ambitions and will want more from you than just this victory against the Combine. I think he plans to mount a grander offensive, especially if he can convince the First Prince." Ford remarked. "He's not the only duke of course."
Gene didn't need reminding of that. The Duke of Robinson wouldn't have been the only duke clamoring for their attention... because Sandoval had exemplified political astuteness by hedging his bets. He'd hired them on to lead the relief effort of Ander's moon after the destruction of the bulk of the Gaeldon regular, but it would probably be tidied up in media portrayals as 'Duke of Robinson's 'forces' fend off piratical kuritan invaders' accompanied by probably significant footage of Robinson regulars on victory parades after. While those Davion regulars were enroute the local aristocracy had other priorities now that the immediate military threat was over. "I thought you were handling that for us?" He responded after a minute.
"Oh certainly, the locals are peculiar, I keep hearing something about the chalice of herne. I've only seen pictures. Its part of why I was going to ask about the mech repair?"
"They're fitting my Marauder," Royal, "with replacement armor sections now." He could hardly use his other Marauder for a parade when all the locals had ever seen him use was the white one. "Have you seen Bard I know his wolverine nearly lost an arm."
"I have not, not today."
Gene nodded, "I was hoping to find out if he is planning to travel with us."
"You don't really have space on the Baffins, not if your planning to take anything with you, and you heard Professor Abner he insists on take his Atlas home with him, so he'll need berthing for the beast."
... and the Dervish. "Don't remind me," he halfheartedly protested. Even before hiring they were probably going to need to get another DropShip. He left and made his way out into the open sunshine of the starport near castle Vandenberg that loomed atop the hill in the distance. In spite of the sun it was quite mild now, barely eighty degrees compared to the hundred twelve high recorded a week ago.
Though he wasn't a native of Ander's moon the future robinson battle academy cadet Sutton and his Dervish were not hard to find. He was a native of Elidere IV and that was enough to draw a hero's homecoming welcoming for the teeming masses of people who had hidden behind Fortress Vandenburgs defenses against the combine. The fact that he had battle roms dueling combine medium mechs certainly didn't hurt either. It took a minute before Sutton could extricate himself from his adoring fans. "Colonel." The salute needed some work.
Gene returned the gesture, "Has your mech been looked over?"
"Uh yes sir." He replied with a boyish falter, "Are-"
"We're not under attack, I just wanted to make sure it had been seen to." It had an endosteel frame if that broke... the damage done Septim's merlin was going to be time consuming given all the wrecked heat sinks and everything else. "Have you seen Bard?"
"He's with some of the Robinson personnel, they're working on repairing his Wolverine for the parade now that you mention it."
Good, the truth was the Azami were already swamped for work as it. "Future classmates, or staff?"
"Its a bit of both, the training cadre was mobilized with the rangers to respond." The presence of the Robinson Rangers reflagged a concern he was going to hear some variation of either One Riot One Ranger, or Rangers Lead the way... or something similarly corny, but there was no helping it.
"Alright, I won't keep you, you look busy." He remarked glancing over the crowd that ws surprisingly not mobbing them... and he certainly didn't want to stick around for that.