Fort Kershaw
Sinclair
Periphery
23 July 3049
Sinclair, at least the region around Fort Kershaw, was rather warmer than the temperate latitudes of Sheridan where Mechwarrior Costigan had
been stationed three months ago as part of Kappa Galaxy. The dropship he had travelled the last leg on had turned up the interior heating to prepare him for
it, but it still wasn't quite the same as the muggy heat that provided a continual drain on Costigan's endurance. Presumably he would get used to it if
he stayed here long enough, but right now the prospect of a cooler climate was all the incentive that he needed to invade the Inner Sphere.
The jitney Costigan was driving shook slightly as it crossed over a grate that filled a gap in the fence surrounding the mech hangers. The
fence wasn't high enough to pose a hindrance to a BattleMech, or even a determined infantryman - it was principally there to make sure no livestock or
native life strayed into the compound, something that the grate provided at the entrance. The trailer behind the jitney was left immediately above the grate as
Costigan halted to check in with the gate guards - a pair of Elementals in full, if lightweight battle armor. The apelike suits didn't look impressive in
comparison to the armour that the young warrior had trained alongside back on Sheridan, but either one could have reduced jitney, driver and trailer to
wreckage in an instant with the powerful laser built into their right arm - and if that wasn't enough, two more suits and one of the extremely impressive
Long Fang suits were in reserve at the guardhouse. Even on this secure planet, Clan Star Adder treated their security seriously.
"What is your business?" the nearer of the two infantrymen asked, his voice stripped by the speakers of any tome that might
indicate boredom.
Costigan fished out a pass and held it out to them, the verigraphed plastic showing his identity, before pointing to the trailer with his
other hand. "Apparently half the survival kits in the last batch had spoiled food in them," he replied. "These are the replacement
kits."
The other warrior nodded, not surprised to find a warrior doing work that would normally fall to a technican or even a laborer. With the
demands of preparing for the invasion, even warriors not yet assigned to their units were being drafted to assist in the massive workload. "I heard about
that. Someone was careless." The two stepped aside to let Costigan open the throttle again and tow the trailer into the complex.
The supply rooms were located in the centre of the hangers, surrounded on all sides by the tall, barnlike buildings. It was a standard design
that was good for defense but also meant that Costigan had to detour through a hanger to reach his destination. The bays were all full of battlemechs being
worked on, older fixed designs rather than the reconfigurable omnimechs that were favored by the warriors of every clan. He recognised a pair of Warhammers and
Battlemasters, then a Marauder and several Assassins and Guillotines - the last two were the Star Adders own custom upgrades designs not seen off Sinclair. He
had piloted a more common variant of the Guillotine as part of Kappa Galaxy. It was the Mech at the end of the line that caught his eye however.
The grinning death's head of an Atlas had been renowned as one of the most feared sights on any battlefield since the last campaigns of
the Star League Defense Force and the upgraded models had served the Clans well in their early days. Even the first ilKhan had piloted one, right up until his
very death in the cockpit. Due to that very fact however, no example had been seen on the battlefield in Costigan's lifetime - except in the Inner Sphere,
of course. The continued raiding and occasional battles that punctuated the lives of the warrior caste had consumed every single one. Or almost, at any rate,
since it was inarguably an Atlas that Costigan saw here.
"Hey, enough rubbernecking!" a tech shouted, and Costigan started, realising he'd slowed to a halt in front of the machine.
"Don't worry about it," the woman sighed as she saw the daggerstar on the breast of his jumpsuit. "You warriors always want a look at this
beast."
"Where did it come from?" Costigan asked, ignoring the unseemly contraction. Techs talked like that and there was no use expecting
them to maintain the standards that warriors did unless it was a formal occasion.
"Terra itself," the technican told him and laughed at his evident disbelief. "You are looking, sir, at a genuine piece of
history. However, this Battlemech was built in the former Rim Worlds Republic after the SLDF conquered during the Amaris Coup and participated in the final
invasion of Terra. The pilot took it with him on the Exodus and it was assigned to the 146th Royal BattleMech Division - there are markings that prove
it."
"The next thing you will tell me," Costigan chuckled, "Is that this was..." He trailed off as he saw the tech nod.
"You are not serious. This was the great Nicholas Kerensky's battlemech? I would have expected it to be part of a Wolf memorial
somewhere."
She shrugged. "Perhaps they planned that, but we found it in a cache of damaged Mechs being stripped for parts. All the numbers match
up, and this is definitely the same machine. It's been more than sixty years since it was won from them, so presumably they had forgotten that it was
inside it. The Technican Caste funded rebuilding it to current standards for the invasion, as our gift to Khan Virgilia."
Costigan whistled appreciatively. "That is magnificent," he admitted. "But is the Khan not accompanying the main invasion
force of the other Clans in order to allay their suspicions?"
The technican shrugged. "What do I know about politics? The Khan sent it her with her Keshik, so this is where it is. When she wants it,
she'll send for it. Quiaff?"
"Aff," Costigan agreed and released the brakes, continuing with his delivery.
Cameron Continent
Sinclair
Periphery
27 July 3049
Costigan scowled out of the window of the hovercraft as it skimmed the coastal waters. The small convoy had set off late in the evening and
travelled all night, the warriors aboard it mostly dozing in their seats and it was still dark enough outside that Costigan could see his face reflected in the
mirror, pale hair shaved back from his temples for better contact with a neurohelmet and his usually pale skin pinker than he was used to as evidence of time
outside working once he reached Sinclair. Evidently time he would have better spent sucking up to officers, since the invasion force had been organised by the
simple means of having each commander appoint their immediate subordinates themselves.
As a result, the seven Galaxies that would make up the invasion forces were mostly made up of cliques and several hundred extremely
frustrated warriors were being shipped off to training bases scattered across the Cameron continent in preparation for assignment to garrison units or, if they
were lucky, the pool of replacements once casualties started depleting the frontline units.
Bored with looking at the open ocean, the only thing visible through the window on this side of the hovercraft, Costigan opened the technical
readout of his new ride and studied it. He'd hoped for one of the new Guillotine models if he couldn't get into an Omnimech, but instead his assigned
battlemech would be an Assassin. Like the Guillotine, the Assassin was built around an array of lasers, but where the larger battlemech was intended to hold
ground against an attack, relying on its armour to keep it alive while the powerful lasers saw off opposition, the Assassin was a fast strike unit. It would
make quite a difference to the tactics that he would have to use.
Costigan was just starting to examine the heat profiles when he felt the hovercraft shift course towards the land. Looking up, he saw other
warriors stirring. There were quite a mix inside the cabin - mechwarriors, elementals and even aerospace pilots. All of the latter and all but one of the other
mechwarriors had the obvious signs to show that they had been augmented with Enhanced Imagery systems to allow them closer control of their machines. It was
quite rare amongst the Elementals though. Costigan had considered undergoing the process himself a few times, but never quite felt that it was necessary - a
warrior should rely on his own skills, he believed.
The Star Commander at the front of the cabin obviously did not hold to this belief - the lines evident on his face as he rose and stared down
the compartment. "Wake up, all of you," he snapped. "It is time for you to be briefed on what we shall really be doing here."
Costigan frowned. 'What we shall really be doing'?
"My name is Oscar," the Star Commander advised them. "I am the commander of this detachment. Contrary to what you were earlier
advised, you have not been sent out here to sulk about your failure to be appointed to the invasion force."
"What will we be doing then?" a voice asked from behind Costigan.
Oscar smiled unpleasently. "For the next several weeks the invasion force will be undergoing a massive training exercise that pits
Alpha, Beta, Zeta and Iota Galaxies against the other three Galaxies. This is intended to accustom their warriors to working together in the new formations. In
order to also accustom our warriors to the honorless practises of the Inner Sphere, each side will be assisted by several small forces made up of warriors not
selected for the invasion. Ourselves being one such force."
"Just to clarify," Costigan asked. "Does this mean we will be shooting at the smug surats who have been lording their
selection for the invasion over us?"
"Only with training rounds and depowered lasers, unfortunately," said Oscar regretfully. "However, I am assured by Khan
N'Buta himself that any warriors in the invading Galaxies who do not demonstrate the standards expected of them will be reassigned for further training and
their places taken by warriors who demonstrate greater prowess as part of the irregular forces."
There was a rumble of approval from the warriors.
Oscar nodded. "Our unit is assigned as the 17th Independent Nova, a mixed Star of Battlemechs, Battle Armour and Asps. We have been
attached to Alpha Galaxy, which remains under the command of Duke Togo. In order to provide our comrades with a fair challenge, only Galaxy Commanders have
been advised of our presence. There will undoubtedly be many surprises for the invaders, so be prepared to offer an unpleasent surprise or two to the warriors
of Delta, Gamma and Epsilon Galaxies, as well as their own irregular warriors. Remember that the crueler we are to them, the better the training is for
them."
Costigan chuckled at the joke. "Is this everyone in the Nova?" he asked. "There are only twenty-eight of us, including
you."
"That is correct," confirmed Oscar. "Points One and Two will be made of Asps. The other three points will be made up of Fang
battle armour riding on our three battlemechs. You three -" he pointed at Costigan and two of the Mechwarriors, including the only other Mechwarrior not
displaying EI markings - "will all be piloting Assassins so we can deploy fast. Perfect for skirmishing, raiding and other fun diversions on the
battlefield. Of course, if any of you get killed in simulation, our infantry brethern will kill you for real since they will be reduced to their own pathetic
pace."
That remark elicited jeers from the Elementals and the newly formed Nova began to settle into a discussion of the best tactics to employ with
such a diverse force.
D for Drakensis
You're only young once, but immaturity is forever.
Sinclair
Periphery
23 July 3049
Sinclair, at least the region around Fort Kershaw, was rather warmer than the temperate latitudes of Sheridan where Mechwarrior Costigan had
been stationed three months ago as part of Kappa Galaxy. The dropship he had travelled the last leg on had turned up the interior heating to prepare him for
it, but it still wasn't quite the same as the muggy heat that provided a continual drain on Costigan's endurance. Presumably he would get used to it if
he stayed here long enough, but right now the prospect of a cooler climate was all the incentive that he needed to invade the Inner Sphere.
The jitney Costigan was driving shook slightly as it crossed over a grate that filled a gap in the fence surrounding the mech hangers. The
fence wasn't high enough to pose a hindrance to a BattleMech, or even a determined infantryman - it was principally there to make sure no livestock or
native life strayed into the compound, something that the grate provided at the entrance. The trailer behind the jitney was left immediately above the grate as
Costigan halted to check in with the gate guards - a pair of Elementals in full, if lightweight battle armor. The apelike suits didn't look impressive in
comparison to the armour that the young warrior had trained alongside back on Sheridan, but either one could have reduced jitney, driver and trailer to
wreckage in an instant with the powerful laser built into their right arm - and if that wasn't enough, two more suits and one of the extremely impressive
Long Fang suits were in reserve at the guardhouse. Even on this secure planet, Clan Star Adder treated their security seriously.
"What is your business?" the nearer of the two infantrymen asked, his voice stripped by the speakers of any tome that might
indicate boredom.
Costigan fished out a pass and held it out to them, the verigraphed plastic showing his identity, before pointing to the trailer with his
other hand. "Apparently half the survival kits in the last batch had spoiled food in them," he replied. "These are the replacement
kits."
The other warrior nodded, not surprised to find a warrior doing work that would normally fall to a technican or even a laborer. With the
demands of preparing for the invasion, even warriors not yet assigned to their units were being drafted to assist in the massive workload. "I heard about
that. Someone was careless." The two stepped aside to let Costigan open the throttle again and tow the trailer into the complex.
The supply rooms were located in the centre of the hangers, surrounded on all sides by the tall, barnlike buildings. It was a standard design
that was good for defense but also meant that Costigan had to detour through a hanger to reach his destination. The bays were all full of battlemechs being
worked on, older fixed designs rather than the reconfigurable omnimechs that were favored by the warriors of every clan. He recognised a pair of Warhammers and
Battlemasters, then a Marauder and several Assassins and Guillotines - the last two were the Star Adders own custom upgrades designs not seen off Sinclair. He
had piloted a more common variant of the Guillotine as part of Kappa Galaxy. It was the Mech at the end of the line that caught his eye however.
The grinning death's head of an Atlas had been renowned as one of the most feared sights on any battlefield since the last campaigns of
the Star League Defense Force and the upgraded models had served the Clans well in their early days. Even the first ilKhan had piloted one, right up until his
very death in the cockpit. Due to that very fact however, no example had been seen on the battlefield in Costigan's lifetime - except in the Inner Sphere,
of course. The continued raiding and occasional battles that punctuated the lives of the warrior caste had consumed every single one. Or almost, at any rate,
since it was inarguably an Atlas that Costigan saw here.
"Hey, enough rubbernecking!" a tech shouted, and Costigan started, realising he'd slowed to a halt in front of the machine.
"Don't worry about it," the woman sighed as she saw the daggerstar on the breast of his jumpsuit. "You warriors always want a look at this
beast."
"Where did it come from?" Costigan asked, ignoring the unseemly contraction. Techs talked like that and there was no use expecting
them to maintain the standards that warriors did unless it was a formal occasion.
"Terra itself," the technican told him and laughed at his evident disbelief. "You are looking, sir, at a genuine piece of
history. However, this Battlemech was built in the former Rim Worlds Republic after the SLDF conquered during the Amaris Coup and participated in the final
invasion of Terra. The pilot took it with him on the Exodus and it was assigned to the 146th Royal BattleMech Division - there are markings that prove
it."
"The next thing you will tell me," Costigan chuckled, "Is that this was..." He trailed off as he saw the tech nod.
"You are not serious. This was the great Nicholas Kerensky's battlemech? I would have expected it to be part of a Wolf memorial
somewhere."
She shrugged. "Perhaps they planned that, but we found it in a cache of damaged Mechs being stripped for parts. All the numbers match
up, and this is definitely the same machine. It's been more than sixty years since it was won from them, so presumably they had forgotten that it was
inside it. The Technican Caste funded rebuilding it to current standards for the invasion, as our gift to Khan Virgilia."
Costigan whistled appreciatively. "That is magnificent," he admitted. "But is the Khan not accompanying the main invasion
force of the other Clans in order to allay their suspicions?"
The technican shrugged. "What do I know about politics? The Khan sent it her with her Keshik, so this is where it is. When she wants it,
she'll send for it. Quiaff?"
"Aff," Costigan agreed and released the brakes, continuing with his delivery.
Cameron Continent
Sinclair
Periphery
27 July 3049
Costigan scowled out of the window of the hovercraft as it skimmed the coastal waters. The small convoy had set off late in the evening and
travelled all night, the warriors aboard it mostly dozing in their seats and it was still dark enough outside that Costigan could see his face reflected in the
mirror, pale hair shaved back from his temples for better contact with a neurohelmet and his usually pale skin pinker than he was used to as evidence of time
outside working once he reached Sinclair. Evidently time he would have better spent sucking up to officers, since the invasion force had been organised by the
simple means of having each commander appoint their immediate subordinates themselves.
As a result, the seven Galaxies that would make up the invasion forces were mostly made up of cliques and several hundred extremely
frustrated warriors were being shipped off to training bases scattered across the Cameron continent in preparation for assignment to garrison units or, if they
were lucky, the pool of replacements once casualties started depleting the frontline units.
Bored with looking at the open ocean, the only thing visible through the window on this side of the hovercraft, Costigan opened the technical
readout of his new ride and studied it. He'd hoped for one of the new Guillotine models if he couldn't get into an Omnimech, but instead his assigned
battlemech would be an Assassin. Like the Guillotine, the Assassin was built around an array of lasers, but where the larger battlemech was intended to hold
ground against an attack, relying on its armour to keep it alive while the powerful lasers saw off opposition, the Assassin was a fast strike unit. It would
make quite a difference to the tactics that he would have to use.
Costigan was just starting to examine the heat profiles when he felt the hovercraft shift course towards the land. Looking up, he saw other
warriors stirring. There were quite a mix inside the cabin - mechwarriors, elementals and even aerospace pilots. All of the latter and all but one of the other
mechwarriors had the obvious signs to show that they had been augmented with Enhanced Imagery systems to allow them closer control of their machines. It was
quite rare amongst the Elementals though. Costigan had considered undergoing the process himself a few times, but never quite felt that it was necessary - a
warrior should rely on his own skills, he believed.
The Star Commander at the front of the cabin obviously did not hold to this belief - the lines evident on his face as he rose and stared down
the compartment. "Wake up, all of you," he snapped. "It is time for you to be briefed on what we shall really be doing here."
Costigan frowned. 'What we shall really be doing'?
"My name is Oscar," the Star Commander advised them. "I am the commander of this detachment. Contrary to what you were earlier
advised, you have not been sent out here to sulk about your failure to be appointed to the invasion force."
"What will we be doing then?" a voice asked from behind Costigan.
Oscar smiled unpleasently. "For the next several weeks the invasion force will be undergoing a massive training exercise that pits
Alpha, Beta, Zeta and Iota Galaxies against the other three Galaxies. This is intended to accustom their warriors to working together in the new formations. In
order to also accustom our warriors to the honorless practises of the Inner Sphere, each side will be assisted by several small forces made up of warriors not
selected for the invasion. Ourselves being one such force."
"Just to clarify," Costigan asked. "Does this mean we will be shooting at the smug surats who have been lording their
selection for the invasion over us?"
"Only with training rounds and depowered lasers, unfortunately," said Oscar regretfully. "However, I am assured by Khan
N'Buta himself that any warriors in the invading Galaxies who do not demonstrate the standards expected of them will be reassigned for further training and
their places taken by warriors who demonstrate greater prowess as part of the irregular forces."
There was a rumble of approval from the warriors.
Oscar nodded. "Our unit is assigned as the 17th Independent Nova, a mixed Star of Battlemechs, Battle Armour and Asps. We have been
attached to Alpha Galaxy, which remains under the command of Duke Togo. In order to provide our comrades with a fair challenge, only Galaxy Commanders have
been advised of our presence. There will undoubtedly be many surprises for the invaders, so be prepared to offer an unpleasent surprise or two to the warriors
of Delta, Gamma and Epsilon Galaxies, as well as their own irregular warriors. Remember that the crueler we are to them, the better the training is for
them."
Costigan chuckled at the joke. "Is this everyone in the Nova?" he asked. "There are only twenty-eight of us, including
you."
"That is correct," confirmed Oscar. "Points One and Two will be made of Asps. The other three points will be made up of Fang
battle armour riding on our three battlemechs. You three -" he pointed at Costigan and two of the Mechwarriors, including the only other Mechwarrior not
displaying EI markings - "will all be piloting Assassins so we can deploy fast. Perfect for skirmishing, raiding and other fun diversions on the
battlefield. Of course, if any of you get killed in simulation, our infantry brethern will kill you for real since they will be reduced to their own pathetic
pace."
That remark elicited jeers from the Elementals and the newly formed Nova began to settle into a discussion of the best tactics to employ with
such a diverse force.
D for Drakensis
You're only young once, but immaturity is forever.