The World Egg 03
Declan
Abandoned System
Federated Suns
Date Unknown
With a sound roughly like a "*WVORP!*, vibrating across the hull and carried by the hot flash of suddenly vaporized and displaced ambient space gases, with the paradoxical sight of what looks like coruscating glass shards unbreaking itself - the SLS ARENDAL resolved back into normal space.
"Sensors confirm. G3V class system, six planets. Matching stellar charts. It is the Declan star system."
The captain of the ship scowled. "I am never going to get used to that. Being able to go anywhere in the Inner Sphere in one jump. It is weird. It is unnatural. And I want it off my ship."
Nathan Armstrong sucked in his breath. "This is magic. I wasn't sure if I believed it, but… nothing made by man could do this."
Beside him, Andrei Posseli waggled his mustache and grinned. "It could still be aliens though, sir."
Everyone else groaned. Everybody remaining in the JumpShip's skeleton crew had already been briefed to the real situation. This was likely to be the last journey of the ARENDAL.
"Drive flares detected! Ships on intercept!" the Radar Officer announced. "Distance five hundred thousand klicks!"
The main screen showed white and checkered gray bulbous ships on the approach, burning white-hot fusion rocket trails. The dome-like head and the long thin body marked them as Scout JumpShips. But the track showed that they were accelerating at the equivalent of 3 gravities.
A Scout JumpShip was one of the very few JumpShips actually capable of appreciable in-system movement… but at most .2 gees.
A ship with a JumpDrive core and drop collars reinforced enough to support maneuvering at multiple gravities must by necessity be a Compact Core… and that meant they were WarShip cores.
Davion had checked the system before, right?
Did they actually get away with anything useful or were they just space dust?
The comms chirped with an incoming transmission, which was accepted.
The screen showed a simple robotic face that had a pasted on beard and mustache and a naval hat.
"- Hello the Monolith. This is the RNIK Tenderfeets Scout Three Squadron. What do ye here? Do ye be the Eridani Light Horse? We will have no truck with Heavy Horses here, we do not have time for such fodder. - "
"Oh yes!" Andrei Posseli, a man nearly fifty, almost squealed in childish glee. "I missed these sassy robots!"
-.
-.
The Scouts entered a diamond formation around the ELH Monolith.
"Now what?" Armstrong asked Andrei Posseli. "We're still too far out in the system. Do we transfer dropships or head straight to Declan II?"
The engineer, one of only three people to physically meet Doctor Robotnik and the one given the development diary, pointed at the system map. "The Chaos Emerald is too important to be put to somewhere anyone else can get at it. So we're supposed to go to the outermost planet, Declan VI, which is a gas giant. Captain, please plot a short jump."
The Captain grumbled "Plot a short jump like we can't get misjumps anymore. Make it so."
"Wait. Don't we have to wait until the drive core recharges?" Armstrong interjected, befuddled.
Posseli then only pointed to the readout on the main console. [DRIVE CHARGED] blinked back at him.
He said "The Chaos Emerald absorbed and redirected all the energy needed to translate into hyperspace. It's really such a pity that the Chaos Emerald is so dangerous to hold, or that it can only be in one ship at a time, because this means a ship can go anywhere in the galaxy if it wanted to. Instantaneous and unlimited Faster than Light travel. I can understand why this had to be the blackest of projects. Using it for anything other than exploration is a tragic misuse of power."
Armstrong nodded and hummed softly while rubbing his chin. "Mmm. OPERATION SEEDCORN sounds more and more fantastical the more I hear about what it was supposed to do, huh. If the thing is so powerful that it can do this, the more dangerous it sounds making contact with another civilization that does make open use of its power."
"Well, General?" the Captain asked idly, turning around on his chair.
"Ah. Right. You may proceed."
The Navigator looked to the left, to the right, into each the eyes of the bridge crew looking for assurance. Even though they had just survived an impossible jump, it was hard to shake the long-held knowledge that you could only safely jump to a gravity-neutral zone. Into the orbit of a gas giant was the exact opposite of that.
Slowly the Navigator made the calculations and shakily input the numbers. Then she said "Coordinates fixed. Pilot, you may engage the Jump at your discretion."
"Jump warning. Jump warning. Hyperspace Jump in three. Two. One- "
The ship began to glitter with breaking spacetime. Tendrils of fractal lightning grabbed at the surrounding vessels.
*FWORP*
-.
*FWORP*
The entire formation emerged back out into realspace. The angry orange-red hues of the gas giant Declan VI loomed overhead.
Everyone let out a sigh of relief.
"I could get really used to that…" the Navigator said softly. "Man, it sucks *we* can't go exploring instead."
"To boldly go where no man, or mech, or hardboiled egg, has gone before…" said Posseli. He turned to Nathan Armstrong. "Now, the obvious thing is to put it on a rocky world so it can mine for metals, but gas giants may also have a metallic core."
"Can the Death Egg survive that?"
"No of course not sir. It's going to splatter inwards like, well, an egg. But it should last long enough for the programmed behaviors the good Doctor put into the nanolathe to activate and get to the second part of the plan. But it's still not too late to prefer landing on a more conventional hospitable world and have the Chaos Emerald available."
Armstrong shook his head. "No. The temptation is too strong. Let's do this and get our ships."
"Aye sir. You hear that, chief?" Posseli then addressed the open comms to the Death Egg. "We are good to go for OPERATION EGGDROP."
Joseph Kubler responded "-
Got it. All remote control systems are online, course set. We are removing ourselves from the ship. Automatic undocking in five minutes. -"
-.
After some time, the Death Egg uncoupled from the Monolith JumpShip and engaged its transit drives. Everyone piled onto the observation deck to the DropShip plunge into the gas giant for its last journey.
For a long while, nothing happened. Armstrong mentioned aloud "Well, if anything else, at least we got three regiments worth of units and supplies and six WarShips out of it." He felt that maybe this would be better. Too much power. Too much magic. Even if Robotnik and Stone trusted the Eridani Light Horse with it, power corrupts. It was better if they had to earn their way through their own sweat and blood.
Davion would just have to be content with the idea that the Terran Hegemony in Exile looked at the situation and called the whole thing off as a lost cause.
And then, the roiling loops and curls of the gas giant began to move faster. Swirls of colors moved out of their bands, combining in some spots and fraying out in others.
Two deep white cyclones the size of whole lesser planets formed on the northern hemisphere, in line with each other. Below, the equator bands ballooned out to either side in spiky whorls. Then below that, an arc of repeating white curls. Two eyes, a mustache, and a grin.
"Jesus Christ-" someone gasped softly in terror and awe.
"No," Posseli and Armstrong said together. "Doctor Robotnik."
Even though all was silent save from the ambient noise of machinery, it was like they could hear a madman's triumphant AHAHAHAHAH through the vacuum of space.
-.
-.
The 'eyes' of the planet glowed green from the inside, and two bright beams lanced out into empty space. The beams continued across half the star system until they hit Declan II.
Clouds parted, the ground broke asunder, and on that distant backwards planet... a Metal Extractor was laid down.
A Kbot Construction Lab was then lathed into existence.
The beam cut off, then the Robotnikied world turned its attention back into nearby space. It lanced eyebeams out into the nothing right ahead of the Monolith.
The eyes of the world changed from green to gold, and bright golden power lanced out into empty space. The beams stopped on empty space as if hitting a solid yet invisible wall, and began to flow like honey. Energy turned into matter. Chaos into form. Potential into purpose.
A great golden ring, many kilometers wide, slowly came into being.
-.
-.
They had by this time relocated to the lead ship of the Scout III WarShips. The whole thing was clean gleaming brand new. It was crewed entirely by robots.
"Ayy, Acting Commodore-Bot asks to be relieved," the robot in command said with a sloppy salute.
"This ship only operates at twenty percent efficiency without an organic crew. Make ye be at home, my crew will see to yer needs."
"Where did these ships come from?" Armstrong asked. "How did Robotnik squirrel away a whole fleet of ships?"
"Nay, General. We be a misjump from the future. Also double nay, you canna abuse this."
"But-"
"We tried, General. There be angry time monkeys. The casualties be horrendous. We be seeing your head get put on a pike. Never again."
"…"
The ELH staff walked numbly through the primary corridor. The air tasted sweet, almost like fresh mountain air from pristine filters.
The Scout III WarShip had two counter-rotating 90-meter gravdecks. With extensive automation, it was running with a robot crew of thirty. Officially however it had the cabins for 20 officers, 120 crew (enlisted and gunners), 34 personnel for 12 ASFs in their bays, and 20 passengers and 40 marines. It could support up to twice that number without straining life support. 41 Lifeboats ensured they could abandon ship and burn towards a nearby life-bearing world with room to spare.
Quite a lot for a mere 105,000 ton light escort Q ship. It was suspicious that the ship could serve for evacuation if pressed, but more charitably this also made the Scout a suitable exploration vessel.
"Coffee? Tea? Or whiskey?" Posseli asked Armstrong after they had settled in.
"The strongest they got," the general whispered.
"Irish coffee it is, then." He snapped his fingers and a waiter-bot rolled to attention.
The magnetic rollers of the bots could pass through the ship without care if there was gravity or not, and much faster than any human could move in zero-g. The ship felt more like a hotel than a fully functional WarShip armed with real capital-grade weaponry.
They stared out a nearby porthole in the nautical themed restaurant. The grav deck rotated, so real windows were not only a weak point in the armor but the sight of stars streaming past at a rotation of 4 and 1/2 times per minute could quickly be dizzying. The porthole was a screen sunk into the walls.
Outside they beheld a green glowing outline, slowly filling out with metal. A central half-spherical core surrounded by sunflower-petal sections, growing from the inside out..
A spire rose from the center, and two deep wells like eyes remained sunken
as the structure filled up.
After several more minutes, the task was complete. It was like half a moon or a round face with whiskers growing out of the sides.
The deep eye holes glowed green.
The nanolathe wells spun and formed Dropship-sized Construction Vessels. Bee-shaped things flew out and they then begun creating and punting things through the Ring.
"What do you think they're doing now?" Armstrong asked.
"I think they're tossing stealthed HPG stations out into deep space so we can all keep in contact with our Urbanmech HPGs and ship-based HPGs," Posseli answered.
HPGs were point to point transmitters, so in deep space each one had to know where every other HPG would be. On the positive side, in deep space they would also be less impacted by gravity and would never move relative to the star nearby. This also made them impossible to repair, but the fabricators could just chuck another one out there as a replacement.
The general shivered. Awesome.
Behind the station, the Ring of solidifed Chaos Power hung gleaming in space, a circle of bright and purest gold. While a ship could no longer jump with the unlimited range of the Chaos Emerald, tapping the Ring with its drive field would allow it to reach any point in the Inner Sphere or the Periphery.
While range was effectively unlimited, this only applied to going
out from Declan blacksite. Anyone wanting to take advantage of this again had to travel all the way back to it.
There were Rings in the usual jump points and gravity neutral lagrange points in the system. Not only could the Rings allow for unlimited range single-use jumps, but also instant passage from one to the other inside the system.
The Rings also projected a Kearny-Fuchida hyperspace jamming field. Anyone trying to plot a course to the system would just bounce and misjump to the closest other star in the direct line.
Entry into the mystery system required that someone in the ship possessed one of the original Chaos Rings. And
good intentions, because magic was an intent-based process.
"Even this… even this power… to create something from nothing… is better than the temptation of the Chaos Emerald," Armstrong whispered at last. "This isn't something human power can accomplish anymore, this is impinging on the domain of gods."
He had been admiring Robotnik before, but knowing that a man was able to turn away from this much power and completely entrust it to the next generation- that was almost oppressively humbling. He could have been a god, but chose to die as a man. That man was a hero that no one would ever know.
Posseli nodded and answered "Robotnik's Development Diary has a line that I don't quite understand, but about this it says -
Chaos flows from a Sea of Gold, ships are swords and dragons are angels, demons are killed by kindness, and all life is a gift from the Lord of Nightmares."
"Don't you miss a time when all we had to worry about was just financially recovering from losing half a regiment?" Armstrong said with a heavy sigh.
"While it was more comforting to live in a universe that made sense, I would have to say… no. It has only been half a year, sir. Knowing that the universe is really much bigger than our stupid little wars in the Inner Sphere… that there's more wonder and magic out there than we can believe… that is much more comforting to me. Puts everything in perspective, I'd say." Posseli shrugged. "Ah, drinks are here."
The waiter bot slid onto the table two tall hot cream-topped mugs. The mugs had plastic blisters on top, almost like baby feeders, to minimize risks of spilling in artificial gravity. Posseli stuck a bendy straw into each hole so that they looked less insulting.
Armstrong reached for one, but only pinched the glass handle without lifting the mug until eventually he calmed down. "At least in the heart of a gas giant, no one can lay claim to it anymore. Declan II as a world factory sounds important enough that no one would ever think it is just a decoy."
He paused and waved at the screen, "At least I hope this… this... this planet with a face! Calms down and goes back to normal."
"Do you really think that's it?" Posseli said with a cruel smirk. "If there was ever a need… I'm sure Doctor Robotnik has made a way for his only begotten son to retrieve the Chaos Emerald and hero it up. No, sir – it becomes even more dangerous now. Because now the question is… when that time comes –
did we raise Devlin Stone to withstand the temptations of that power?"
"No. Stop."
"There is an old aphorism that goes 'it takes a village to raise a child.' Sometimes it takes a regiment."
"I left them alone with Natasha Kerensky."
Posseli raised a mug in salute and took a sip. "Ah. Sucks to be you, then."
-.
-.
The crew of the SLS ARENDAL were fully read into the situation and so they knew that most of them had to be the first new settlers of Declan II. They could not leave and accidentally betray this information. Seeing a planet with a face made them think that this was simultaneously too crazy to be believed but too dangerous if anyone were actually crazy enough to believe it.
The Eridani Light Horse now had six WarShips that conveniently still looked like civilian vessels. The fruit of decades of ruthless optimization, they were a proven yet newly manufactured design from another timeline.However, that was not enough to save them from a surprise visit by some Dantes.
The new limit to the nanolathe inside the GREAT ARK was that while it could build ships, with near unlimited mass for building being disassembled from the core of the gas giant, it could only design and build from known designs. It only had the plans for the Scout and vessels based on that hull.
For anything bigger that can match up to a real WarShip, they needed to disassemble a bigger ship.
The Captain of the SLS ARENDAL stroked the leather top of the captain's chair. For generations, his family had served the old girl. Not always as the Captain, it was an elected position, but always with honor. From ship crew to fighter pilots to dropship command, it was all fine as long as they could come home – not to a world, trapped by the weight of gravity, but in the comforting cocoon of a spaceship.
"The old girl's not dying, sir" the First Mate tried to console the old man. "It's just a rebuild. She'll come out of this better and without her old pains."
"Will she?" he replied with a low growl. "I've seen the lathe. It can make you think something has always been there. It can duplicate anything, but can it fake history? I don't know – if her body changes, will she still have the same soul?"
"Sorry sir, but needs must. We have our orders. The naval contingent is just as part of the Eridani Light Horse RCT as the mech regiments. We can't be kingdoms of our own in a military roll."
"Aye, I understand. The one for the many," with one last squeeze at the leather, he let go. "We all fight in our own way. This girl would like to be able to fight directly."
"Yes, sir. Let's go. We can't stay here, not unless we want to be disassembled and reassembled along with the ship."
The captain nodded. He turned away and began to float off towards the exit.
Then suddenly his eyes gleamed as if a terrible yet great concept had just occurred to him. He turned around and lunged at the Captain's chair again. He clamped onto it like a koala on the tree. "Part of the ship! Part of the crew!" he screamed. "PART OF THE SHIP! PART OF THE CREW!"
"Not this shite again," the First Mate sighed.
They managed to sedate the old man and bring him away.
-.
And the SLS ARENDAL slowly sank headfirst into one of the eyewells of the ARK, to be reborn into the SLDS ARENDAL. From the other eyewell, floated up rebuilt Dictator-class DropShips. Four of them as Pocket WarShips, and two as Assault Tugs.
Everybody else had to go into the remaining Scouts IIIs. As the DropShips locked into place, the ships could now, with the aid of the Rings, disperse out into the Inner Sphere.
"These ships have a Lithium Fusion Battery, right? Think we could meet up with the 21st Strikers along the way and bring them to Harrow's Sun faster?" Armstrong mused. "Or to be more precise, you go bring them there while I do my job and go to New Avalon."
"I thought you were worried about Kerensky's influence on Stone?"
"I'm actually more worried about Stone's influence on Kerensky, but I figure by this time the damage is done. It's time to pass this headache on to someone else."
-.
-.
Harrow's Sun
Draconis March
07 March 3025
They were the wolves.
The pack runs as one, fights as one, and never abandons their own. That was what made them strong. Not the arrogance of the falcons of jade, nor the dreams of the nova cat, nor the naked bloodlust of the smoke jaguar. Leadership. Unity. Those who break with unit break with faith, and the faithless will meet only death.
Charles Winston and Daniel Arthbutnot made quite the pair. One looked old and grandfatherly, another thin and like some harried office worker. Their exterior belied the merciless warrior hearts and brutal savagery once in control of a BattleMech. Only the cold intellect betrayed by their eyes hinted at the danger.
Arbuthnot hissed at the old man "Those are no mere Assault DropShips. I would almost be impressed."
The Overlords and other DropShips of the Epsilon regiment hung motionless in space, their occupants uncomfortably floating and clinging to things in zero-gravity. Their engines had to be shut off or else risk catastrophic destruction after battle damage.
DropShip tugs and space workers moved slowly to attach secure lines to pull them closer in-system where they could affect repairs in stable orbit.
The Modified Dictator-class Pocket Warships, tentatively called internally the DOOM EGG, had a quartet of Light Subcapital Lasers on each facing and could strip all the armor off a Union's side in two or three sweeps. They had six Piranha Subcapital Missile Launchers to slap aside fighters and were each escorted by four EGARTS drone fighters.
If the ELH really wanted to destroy the Dragoons, just one of them would have been enough to murder their entire force.
"If the Epsilon Regiment would like to have a proper battle at a later date, perhaps in a series of company-scale duels to minimize infrastructure damage, the Eridani Light Horse would happily accept those terms of combat in lieu of the randomness and chaos of a planetary invasion," responded Charles Winston. "But for now, the 21st Strikers Regiment would have your parole to defer the attack on Harrow's Sun. You will be towed towards a stable orbit and then you may disembark. You may even keep your mechs, they will be held in trust here until the DropShips can affect repairs and either a nominal ransom or agreement for prisoner exchange is reached with the Wolf's Dragoons. This is a thing we do only because we know the Dragoons have honor."
He added "Also I agree, this would all have been much more impressive if we used proper WarShips." Then the old man shrugged, "But we all have to make do with what we are given."
Arthbutnot clenched his teeth until his jaws hurt.
Barbara Mosley, in taking down Natasha Kerensky's Black Widow Company, had made her name echo around the Inner Sphere.
Charles Winston personally did not care for any fame. But in seizing a whole goddamn Wolf's Dragoons regiment, he was sure this event would enter the ears of the House Lords themselves. Takashi Kurita would hear of it personally. People would die for daring to bring up bad news that makes the Coordinator look like he made a mistake,
any mistake. Seeming like he overestimated the value of Wolf's Dragoons would also shame the supporters of the plan to establish a Dragoon-like regiment, the Ryuken. The Coordinator was untouchable, but the churn of lesser officers was not.
And then they would hear just how the Dragoons were taken down.
This was a capacity to conduct naval operations to make even Hanse Davion nervous. Everybody from Maximilian Liao to Katrina Steiner to even Michael Hasek-Davion would have to sit up and pay attention. The whole Inner Sphere would pivot around this moment, he could feel it.
Where did the general find these ships?!
It was confirmation. No wonder they had been told it was acceptable to paint the Cameron Star over the tan prancing pony. They had been resupplied. They were no longer alone.
-.
-.
New Avalon
Crucis March
Federated Suns
17 March 3025
"You're still refusing to let us deal with the Dragoons, then?" asked Hanse. "I could overlook the single company of Natasha Kerensky's, but an entire regiment… you had better have a good reason for me to potentially allow them back into Kurita hands, to kill and raid our worlds even further instead of just letting them sit out this war in a comfortable enough prison camp."
"We do this because we need the Wolves intact as much as possible for when the Draconis Combine inevitably turn against them, creating a blood feud. Hopefully this actually tempts the factors involved there to accelerate their plans. Then we can throw Epsilon Regiment to help their parent unit and have their gratitude. If not - what you want to ask from Jaime Wolf in compensation for the return of his regiment is up to you, my lord."
"Unfortunately for us, the Dragoons also have a point of honor about not being used against their former employers, so I can't just demand for the regiment to be moved to the Lyran front," the First Prince noted. "I don't want my soldiers to have to face their Epsilon Regiment again."
"I have a suggestion," said Ardan. "I am certain the Dragoons will want a real honest fight out of this, instead of just being blasted and captured midway. I know I would be infuriated. What if you ask that they can
only fight the Light Horse? They can
only attack worlds that the Eridani Light Horse have garrisoned?"
Both Nathan Armstrong and Hanse Davion furrowed their brows and considered it.
"That sounds… reasonable," said the ELH general. "This would involve planting the 21st Strikers down on a world instead of a fast reaction force. In fact a world would need to have
two of our regiments to be worth the time – one to defend, another that can be moved out and keep the enemy off balance. Just like what the Dragoons are doing with their base on Misery."
"I will not force you into this if it would mean losing the flexibility the Light Horse RCT is known for," said the First Prince.
Armstrong shrugged. "I'm not that, ah, super concerned about the fate of the Wolf's Dragoons. It would be ideal for them to be ripping through House Kurita, but if there is no other alternative we would not object to them spending the next few years in a prison planet either. I suppose it all depends upon you and the response from Jaime Wolf."
"Very good." Hanse made a gesture as if sweeping away the issue, then opened his palm out towards the far side of the room. "You realize, of course, that the reason I allow this is because of the elephant in the room – which we will discuss now. Your WarShips-"
"Pocket WarShips" Armstrong put in.
"… Pocket WarShips. Is that even an actual term? No, never mind. What do you want for us to have access to them?"
"Nothing. That is, you will not have any access to them. You already have all the elements, Hanse Davion. You would learn more from failing than copying. The Terran Hegemony once attempted to inhibit the member states by making it always more convenient to be reverse-engineering than developing their own ability to create things from the ground up, no matter how inferior they may appear at the start. I will not harm you like this." Armstrong's gaze was stony. "Just play the game of '
How many Subcapital Lasers can you fit on a Union?' The answer is -
enough to make a ship ten times its size choke on it."
Hanse leaned back on his chair and closed his eyes. Ardan wondered if he was angry.
After some time, the ruler of the largest and most powerful state in the Inner Sphere said "You have no idea – no idea at all how much of a relief that is. I just keep getting surprised that there's no other shoe being dropped. Whatever agenda you might be pushing here, I don't even care anymore. I just trust that you do not intend any harm to my Federated Suns."
Armstrong stared at him and said slowly as if explaining to a little child "It's not like we have been trying to hide it. The restoration of the Star League and peace in the Inner Sphere."
Hanse hissed "You MADMAN. It sounds insane and impossible if you just say it like that. Who would believe you!"
Ardan looked hurt for a moment. Why was it so hard for politicians – as much as he hated to admit it, his friend was a consummate politician now – to believe that people could be as honest and straightforward as exactly what they said?
Armstrong shrugged again. "It is what it is."
"I… I do want to be First Lord of the Star League," Hanse admitted. "If it can happen in my lifetime… you said I would make a perfectly adequate one. But I'm a realist. I can only hope my descendants can achieve it, and we gain it by proving ourselves worthy of it by the example of the prosperity and security of our realm. If you want to recreate the Terran Hegemony… we have controlled those worlds for too long, I don't think I can adequately explain away giving it up unless the Terran Hegemony is militarily restored to something like its height."
He looked opened his eyes and looked helpless for a moment. "But if you could do that, why would you even need us? Why even stay here? What I am most afraid of is true friends becoming the greatest enemies because of the need of politics. I… don't have many of those left. I can't even trust my supporters if they only tell me what I want to hear to advance their own interests or because they don't want me to worry unnecessarily. Controlled and being controlled. That's politics."
Then he shook his head and his demeanor, as a ruler forced into his position from the untimely death of the heir, returned. "The Eridani Light Horse at some point will have to stop being just an RCT and become a political body of its own cognizance at some point. I wonder – are you prepared for this, Nathan Armstrong?"
The general grinned. What a stony question indeed. "I am happy to say that I would able to retire immediately before that becomes my problem."
"Stop showing me up like this, you total bastard," Hanse said flatly.
-----------------------------------------------
AN:
And there we go.
I am sorry to say that is as far as
Throw a Stone can go for now. This feels like a good 'Book One' end. It's time to let it go into a hiatus.
The ELH already have all they need. They have a cubbyhole they can retreat to if things turn for the worst. They have infinite manufacturing capacity now that they just have to slowly distribute to the Inner Sphere via shell companies. You can just imagine what influence they will have on the events leading up to the 4
th succession war – or if it even happens at all, and how this much would panic Comstar, and the fate of the Wolf's Dragoons.
They have enough that they would not just be made extinct by the Clans; their centuries of loyal service meaning nothing, betrayed by the selfish incompetence of every power that they trusted, the end of the last remaining piece of the noble collective dream that was the Star League.