Main Recreation Yard
Fort Tie Shan
1800 Hours
29 March, 3030

"And you're sure about this?" Captain Sally Roth asked the dirt-covered boy as she tended to the scrapes on his knees and elbows among the crowd of other prisoners. "I need to know this isn't just some story you made up."

"It's true, honest!" Diego said, fussing as she wrapped the big scab on his left forearm, trying not to get stepped on by one of the grown-ups around them. "I think it goes all the way to the outside!"

"Keep your voice down," the Captain said. "If you're right about this, we can--"

"Sal, do you know what's going on?" her cousin Cynthia butted in, shoving and squirming her way through the crowd. "The guards normally don't bring us all out into the yard at once. And they definitely don't leave us out here until--"

"Attention, prisoners!" a voice blared over the loudspeakers in the courtyard. Captain Roth winced as she recognized the voice; it was Grigori Ilyanovich, the former Maskirovka agent who had taken over the operation of the prison, and had interrogated her on more than one occasion. "Due to the changing political and tactical situation on the continent, the circumstances of your captivity are being...altered. Before we begin, we have a special visitor for you."

The doors to the central compound swung open, and several dozen NPDRE soldiers with assault rifles, riot shields, and heavy body armor emerged. Forming a phalanx, they pushed the crowd back until another figure emerged. This one was wearing what appeared to be a PAL power armor suit, decorated in gaudy gold and red trim and a flowing crimson cape. Around him, a paid of small camera drones buzzed, no doubt broadcasting his performance on local news outlets.



"Criminals, malcontents, sympathizers, prisoners all," he addressed the huddled masses, his voice connected to the loudspeakers from a microphone inside his helmet, "I am the Crimson King, proprietor and commanding officer of the Crimson Fists. You are all here because you have committed acts of opposition against the order that the New People's Democratic Republic of Espia have put in place, an order that I have come to this planet to protect and enforce."

Roth scoffed under her breath. Her people hadn't 'opposed' this new order at all; they had been waylaid during the coup, brought here to be used as political prisoners, or as hostages in case Gaius and his Knights gave the new rulers any trouble. She knew sooner or later, they were going to start using them to put pressure on Gaius, and supposed the time had finally come.

"The mercenary terrorists known as Gawain's Green Knights have been a destabilizing figure on this planet for far too long," he stated. "They have raided supply lines, robbing the noble troops of the Espian Guard of food, medicine, and other vital supplies. They have endangered the entire city of South Nui Awa with their squabbling against the Heavenly Sword, and in their dealings with the Liao-loyal terrorists, have acquired weapons of mass destruction. They have slaughtered civilians in the Keahi Township and then pressured Comstar to blame my own loyal Mechwarriors for their atrocities, Mechwarriors whom have bravely sacrificed their own lives in the name of the revolution. I have decided, this shall no longer stand!"

Sally smirked; she didn't like what was coming, but it did give her some bit of comfort to know that whoever this pompous asshole was, the Green Knights had been giving them hell.

"Bring forward the captain of the Green Knights' ship!" the Crimson King commanded. The armed guards pushed forward, driving a wedge to part the crowd of prisoners as they slowly advanced towards Sally and Cynthia.

"Cynthia," Sally asked her cousin, "Did you get everything on the shopping list?"

"We got the last item this morning," the quartermaster of the No Leaf Clover nodded.

"Tell the boys in the machine shop that it's time to make the call," she said, using the toe of her boot to mark a message in short-hand in the dirt as the guards approached. "Send that out onto the airwaves, and pray to the gods of space that the GDK are listening."

"Got it," Cynthia said as the guards grabbed Sally by the arms, dragging her towards the Crimson King. Cynthia looked at the marks that Sally had drawn in the dirt, committed them to memory, then swept them clean.

The NPDRE soldiers were none too gentle with Sally as they brought her to the costumed mercenary, yanking her arms to pull her forward, shoving or smacking her to push her along. Eventually they parted, and Sally found herself facing the so-called King. Up close, she had to admit the theatrical getup was far more intimidating than she'd thought.

"You are Sally Roth, of the No Leaf Clover, are you not?" the Crimson King addressed her.

"Captain Sally Roth," she said, refusing to be cowed by a man playing a holo-vid villain.

"And your ship has been under contract with Gawain's Green Knights for over a decade, is that correct?"

"I let them use my bunks and my Mech bays from time to time," she answered. As the camera drones buzzed around her, she knew this farce was only getting started.

"So then, would you say you have come to know the Green Knights and their people?" he asked, circling her like a predator stalking its prey.

"The Knights are out there," she said, "and they're kicking your asses, by the sound of it. The people you've got locked up in here are my people."

"Then you claim responsibility for the people in this fort?"

Sally stared him down. "I do. If you want to hurt these people, you'll have to answer to me."

The King nodded. "I see. Choose ten."

"I'm sorry?"

"Ten of your people."

"...for what?"

"Oh come now, Captain Roth," the Crimson King said in a condescending voice, "you know full well the answer to that question."

Sally glared laser-fire at this masked bastard. She did know what he meant: he was going to make her pick which of her people he was going to have executed.

"And if I don't, I assume...?"

"Yes," the threat didn't need to be stated out loud: she chooses ten people to die, or he kills everyone. "Go on: I want to see which of the people under your protection that you care for the least."

Captain Roth wanted for all the world to lunge at this monster, to grab one of the guards' weapons and shoot him down where he stood. But she knew that would only get her people killed.

Blinking back a few tears, she said "All right. Ten people. I can do it."

Stepping out into the crowd, she looked at the faces of people she'd worked with for years, people who had trusted her and believed in her. Most were scared, shrinking away from her, terrified that her finger would rise to point them out.

"I'll go," Cynthia said, stepping forward. Sally's eyes widened.

"Cynthia, I--"

"This is what I get for wanting to play space-hero with you and your boyfriend," she said. As she stepped towards her, and made sure the camera drones were far enough away, she said "The message has been sent. The call's going out any minute now."

Sally nodded, and one by one, a few more stepped forward. Old hands who had served on the Clover for as long as she could remember, new recruits who wanted to show that they belonged, parents who wanted to make sure it was them and not their kids.

"Eckstein," she stated the names to the Crimson King as they approached, "Ronaldo, Perry, Qiao, Surin, Gutierrez, Frankfurt, Billingsley, Roth..." her voice caught as she said her cousin's name, "...and myself."

The Crimson King gave a slow, sarcastic clap. "Very good, very good."

His gaze turned towards one of the camera drones, which flew in for a dramatic close-up.

"Colonel Gaius Wayne:" he addressed the camera, "I trust this message will reach you. You and your Green Knights have until 0700 hours tomorrow morning to turn yourselves in and face punishment for your crimes. If you do not, my men will be forced to execute...everyone in this prison except these ten people."

"What?!" Roth lunged, before a sharp blow to from the butt of a rifle sent her consciousness spiraling into blackness.

---

As the guards began holding back the panicked crowd, a few of the prisoners began to huddle together.

The quartermaster had been meticulous about keeping track of what items the prisoners had smuggled into Fort Tie Shan, or had gotten their hands on during their work shifts. She knew who had what, and what could be done with all of it. Cynthia Roth never cared for the mercenary life or the people who came with it, but she was brilliant at organization and planning.

Thompson had pulled a handful of resistors from a broken electrical fan.

Ramirez had pried some capacitors from some of the power tools at the neodymium mines.

Dobbs had gotten a battery and a length of wire from a flashlight.

Somehow or other, Ahsan had gotten a dead noteputer and grabbed the circuit board.

And Marston had snuck a small soldering iron out of the machine shop.

Towards the back of the crowd-- not so close that the guards would reach them, not so far that they would stick out, the five of them passed the items back and forth, attaching pieces together when the guards were too distracted to notice the smoke from the solder.

By the time the panicking and the near-riot had been quelled, the five had finished the assembly. It was crude, the signal wouldn't be strong, the range wouldn't be far, and the battery wouldn't last, but it was a chance.

"Pssst, hey kid!" Thompson whispered harshly. A few feet away, Diego looked up.

"Me?"

"Yeah, c'mere," he gestured, "Captain Roth has a job for us."

Nervously, Diego approached, and the five big men all turned their backs on him. He realized that with them all surrounding him, the guards couldn't see him.

"Take this," Thompson said, handing the kid a small device with an antenna on one end, a button on the other, and a mess of electronics in between. "You know Morse code?"

"Not really," Diego shook his head.

"Okay," the man sighed, "Then listen to me very carefully. That button on the end of that thing? I want you to press it like this, a 'dot' means you only tap it, a 'dash' means you hold it down for a second. Got it?"

"Got it," he nodded.

"Okay, here goes," the man thought as he ran through the code in his own head. "Okay. Dash-dash-dot...dash-dash-dot...dash-dot-dash....stop. Dot-dot-dot....dash-dash-dash....dot-dot-dot....stop. Dash...dot-dot-dash...dash-dot...dash-dot...dot...dot-dash-dot-dot...."

---

"Uncle Mack's" Industrial Scrapyard
Property of Maxwell Metals Incorporated
A subsidiary of the Aqua Vitae Corporation
100 km south of Geom Haebyon
150 km northwest of Fort Tie Shan
1850 hours
29 March, 3030

"I don't know how we're going to do it," Cadet Higgins said. "You saw the transmission. If they see our Mechs coming, they'll just waste our civvies anyway."

"Well, we can't just do nothing!" Lieutenant Lyons protested. "Those are our people, we can't just let them be executed!"

The three members of the Green Knights' mobile HQ crew, collectively known as "the GDK" (short for, "those god-damn kids," as the Colonel had been heard muttering on more than one occasion) were bickering inside the monitoring station once again, still keyed up after seeing the news transmission sent out by the leader of the Crimson Fists.

"Maybe you can't," Higgins snorted. "Have you looked at the gun emplacements on that place? Attacking that fort is a suicide mission. Either we don't attack the prison and they all die, or we do attack the prison, we all die, and they all die anyway."

"Guys," Cadet Windham muttered, "Can you quiet down? Something on one of the FM bands is a little--"

"The Colonel will figure it out!" Lyons said. "I know he's got a plan for something like this!"

"Oh gods," Higgins rolled his eyes. "Look, I respect the Colonel just as much as anyone else here, but he's not infallible. If something's impossible, then it's impossible, you can't just wish something to work and--"

"No seriously, guys," Windham said, "One of the civilian channels is getting some weird interference. Let me listen..."

"I'm not giving up on my friends!" Lyons said. "Just because you don't have any doesn't mean--"

"SHUT UP FOR A SECOND!" Higgins yelled out. "Listen to this-- it's an FM signal. I'm tracing the source of the interference, and...yeah, look at this, it's coming from inside the fort!"

Together, the three listened as one of the local country music stations broke into static fuzz, followed by a series of long and short beeps. When the beeping ended, the static faded back into steel guitars and honky-tonk, then a few moments later, the static came back, along with the beeps.

Lyons grabbed a scrap of paper and a pencil, and began decoding.



"Holy-- --shit," Higgins and Lyons both said at once.

---

A few minutes later, Colonel Gaius Wayne stepped out into the main yard of Uncle Mack's Scrapyard, and called out.

"GREEN KNIGHTS!" he shouted. "Mission briefing in ten! This is the one we've been waiting for."

For once, it seemed that Ingrid had no decorum about her.

She had arrived first to the tent, not wearing her saber and cuirass, not even wearing most of her uniform. Down to a tank top, her neck brace and a pair of pants that had clearly been shuffled on in undue haste. Her face still bore the heavy fabric marks of the rucksack she had been using as a pillow, and nothing about her suggested that she had been doing anything besides sleeping in the prior minutes.

Despite all of this, she was alert, possibly more alert than ever before. This is a very big statement considering how high strung she usually is, and should be taken with all importance placed upon it. Her eyes snapped to the Colonel immediately as she leaned against the pole of the doorway, adjusting her pants back into place with the other hand.

"The one? The Fort?" She sounded just as much hopeful as surprised. "What's changed? How are we able to..."

Her enthusiasm dwindled and her usual formality kicked in, and she bowed deeply. "Forgive me. There will be a briefing for this."

The Colonel’s call found Marit in the middle of several scrap piles, shifting uncomfortably every few seconds as a seam of her jacket kept finding some of the spots visited by the whip. Turning to follow the tracks a pair of small feet left in the mud that she’d been ignoring the past 30 seconds, she tapped on an old overturned oil drum with her knuckles. ”Found ya.” When the barrel remained silent, she rolled it with her foot, eliciting a surprised yelp followed by giggling from the inside.
”Come out, the Colonel’s calling.” She knocked again, a curly-haired boy sticking his head out of the drum. ”You’re it, I have to go. Thierry and Gemma are somewhere near that old red crane over there, haven’t heard the others.”
The boy saluted, crawled out of the drum and ran off in the indicated direction.

Marit covered the distance between the far scrap piles and the briefing tent in an impressive amount of time, barging into the briefing tent like the No Leaf Clover making a combat drop. ”Already?“ She asked with surprise and joy in her voice, bereft of any shadow of doubts. If the Colonel said they were ready, they were ready. ”Hello, Ingrid.“ She said with a smile as if she’d only then noticed the Duchess standing in the door the whole time. ”That’s a lot earlier than I hoped.” Finally. With no hostages to be held over them and constant fear for their safety, they’d finally have free reign to act. And they’ll get the old Family Man back on top.

Marit hoped, for the Crimson Fists’ sake, that they were enjoying their lives. Because they were about to get short.

---

Ingrid @wikkit & Marit @Starlance

---

Men and women scattered across the open yard of an unknown and otherwise unimportant scrapyard. Many spoke in loud whispers as they spread the news. If they did not hear it from the roar of the Colonel, then it came from the words of men and women who are chomping at the bit. The sleeping were brought to alertness within moments. The drowsy had a shot of adrenaline from those words. For those who could not sleep, found themselves fully rested.

The solid thumping of Tarak's boots began to resound through his ears. He was quickly trying to put on a shirt as he could hear around him. There were those who were scrambling to be prepared. Some were taking drinks from their water to try and clear their throats from the dry air, others splashed it on their face to wake themselves up. He could hear people scrambling to get their boots on and others trying to not be overwhelmed before the briefing.

Tarak fully tightened his belt as he entered for the briefing. He saw within people already abuzz, waiting for the briefing, and even saw Ingrid, more excited about this briefing than everyone combined. He lightly patted Ingrid's shoulder, making sure she did not touch her back where they had all taken lashings, "Keep the enthusiasm-", Tarak then threw her a smile as he continued, "-it suits you". After which he gave Marit a nod as he said, "Let's hope it stays easy, you know?"

---

"Easy?" Ziska said, slipping into the tent without so much as a flap of fabric to announce her arrival. Beneath a tattered overall clearly pilfered from some unaware AsTech, a fresh layer of bandages were apparent wrapped around her torso. Ziska hadn't minded the corporeal punishment. Fair was fair. They'd fought, probably for no good reason, but it was almost always worth it. Nothing like feeling again. Nothing like feeling like you'd just made it out by the skin of your teeth again.

"Nothing fun is ever easy."

Taking a sip from the water in her tin cup, Ziska wiped a fresh splash of blood from her face, a crack in her lip splitting as she smiled. "No, I didn't sign up for easy."

"However," she mused, draping herself over the banged up plastic of a free folding chair. "I wouldn't mind fighting without my hands tied behind my back. If we can free our people, well, we could start fighting a proper war."

Raven Rivers

Raven walked inside the room in his best uniform and freshly-shined boots, smiling as he spoke to the Colonel, "I knew there'd be a plan, Sir."

As he waited for the briefing, Raven knew everyone could see his renewed confidence, bolstered by the talk with Marit just a few days ago and lasted through the NRPDE's announcement just earlier. This was the day he rescued Katrina and Andrew; this was the day he reunited his family. And all he had to do was give himself some time and patience and fight as well as possible. So his smile held as he observed Ingrid, Marit (who had risen in his estimation after their talk), and Tarak as they waited for the Colonel to give them the plan.

After all, he had upgraded his Shadow Hawk with extra heat sinks and a particle cannon that could hit targets at long range; that ought to count for something.

The point was, this was his day; all he needed to do was live through it.

"Green Knights," Colonel Wayne began, addressing his gathered warriors, "I don't need to tell you all how difficult it's been, having our families, our friends, our loved ones locked away in Fort Tie Shan. I've been holding off a direct assault on the Fort, as the combination of their heavy fortifications and the threat of harm against our civilian contingent has been too great. Unfortunately, the leader of the Crimson Fists, the so-called 'Crimson King,' is forcing our hand. He's demanded our surrender by sunrise this morning, or he's going to have our people executed."

Angry and concerned murmurs spread through the crowd, but the Colonel put his hands up to quiet them. "Fortunately, we have an advantage, one we didn't know about until recently. Lieutenant Lyons?"

"Hm? Oh, right, sir!" the commander of the Mobile HQ perked up before speaking. "Approximately two hours ago, the comms team in the mobile HQ intercepted a crude transmission on a civilian channel. It was a simple message in Morse code, using a short-range scrap-made transmitter, and we have reason to believe the signal was coming from inside Fort Tie Shan. The message let us know that there is an underground tunnel southwest of the fort! We cross-referenced it with the old Star League maps provided by Ms. Jeong, and it appears to be a valid link. It's a back-door into the Fort, and there's a good chance that the NPDRE and the Crimson Fists don't even know about it!"

"Thank you, Lieutenant, that will be all," Colonel Wayne dismissed her. "Now then, even with those service tunnels active, the second the guards notice prisoners disappearing, they'll know something is up and start shooting. That's why we'll need a distraction. A very big distraction. The tactical map, please."

Cadet Higgins switched on a projector, which played an image of an overhead map of the Fort on a flat section of wall.



"This is a layout of the only approach to Fort Tie Shan, taken a few weeks before the coup," the Colonel said. "It's heavily fortified with heavy walls, minefields, and several turrets. And that's not including the vehicles from the Espian Guard, and likely Mechs from the Crimson Fists. A direct assault would likely get us and all of our people killed. So instead, we're going to buy time."

The projector moved to the next slide, showing a close-up of the prison complex.



"Before sunrise, we are going to get every APC, cargo hauler, flatbed truck, scrapyard schoolbus, anything and everything that can carry people, down into that tunnel and have them all on standby. Once they're in place, the Green Knights will begin an assault on the prison from the outside, drawing the attention of the fort's defenses. As soon as the assault begins, Sergeant Dalton will lead a strike team into the fort from below and begin evacuating the general population detention center. The number one priority will be to buy Dalton and his team enough time to pull everyone out.

"The secondary objective," he continued, "Is the super-max wing of the prison. It's likely that members of our command staff will be held within the super-max, as well as officers from the old loyalist regime, and several key members of the FPA. If we can spring them, we can help create a united front to take down Federov and end the fighting once and for all."

"There are, however, going to be...challenges," said the Colonel. "The guard barracks houses hundreds of infantrymen, who will begin to muster once the assault begins. Not much against Mechs, but they'll make evacuating the fort more and more difficult as the attack goes on. The comms tower will also give the enemy the ability to call in air strikes; don't forget, the NPDRE still has one Mechbuster out there, as well as a Shilone bomber. Destroying either of those targets will make our job significantly easier; if need be, Dalton's troops can divert manpower to placing C-64 explosive charges inside those structures, but doing so will slow down the evacuation. Daschke, that will be your call."

The projector moved to another slide, closing in on the bridge crossing the river and the machine gun emplacements on the far side. "Now, onto the static defenses."



"There's a network of pillboxes around the perimeter of the fort," he continued, "Allowing teams of machine gunners to attack from a fortified position. Individually each one won't be much of a threat, but the damage they do can add up. Not to mention, they'll absolutely shred soft targets like infantry...or civilians."



"There are also multiple automated turrets, most of which are equipped with missile racks. The most numerous of them contain a single LRM-5 launcher, but there are bigger ones with a pair of LRM-10s. In particular, the hill on the southeast will be a pain in the ass to clear."



"Perhaps the biggest threat will be the heavy laser turrets," he continued. "There are only two of them, but each has a pair of Large Lasers, and a quad set of AC/2s. If they're left unattended, they can ruin your day."



"The turrets are all linked to the power plant on the south end of the fort. It's a hardened building, so it'll take some concentrated effort to crack it, but if you manage to get to it, you'll take the whole turret network down."

The slides ended, and the Colonel continued the briefing.

"Fort Tie Shan does not have an armored garrison, but there's a nearby firebase where we know they've got vehicles that will go on alert as soon as we start shooting. Given the Espian Guard's typical MO, that likely means Scorpion tanks, Warrior helicopters, an SRM Carrier in the worst-case scenario. If we move quickly and knock out enough of the Fort's defenses, we can get our people and be out of there before reinforcements arrive, but the longer we stay, the uglier this fight will get."

Looking out at his Mechwarriors, he knew what he was asking of them. This was going to be the heaviest fighting the Green Knights had ever encountered as a unit, and there was little chance of everyone coming out alive. Which is why it was important to give them some hope.

"On the positive side, we may have some backup," he then said. "Our contact Stiletto has arranged a meeting with the heads of the FPA at zero-dark-thirty this morning, before the attack is scheduled to begin. The FPA has assets in the area, most notably three Thumper artillery pieces they captured during the fighting in Yuzhny Portveyn. If we can convince them to bring those guns to the fight, then Ziska can use her Raven's TAG Laser to feed them targeting data and start putting shells onto targets. Since the Knights are going to be tied up in the fighting, Ms. Wyatt: since you handled our negotiations with Comstar so well, I'd like you to be the one who speaks to the FPA leaders to get us those guns. Failing that, Mechwarrior Daschke: as Lance Commander, I authorize you to make use of the recovered tactical nuke at your discretion."

He took a long sigh, "Which leaves us the matter of the Crimson King and his cronies. We've bloodied them twice now, but they still have the numbers on us. If they show up in force for a fight, and those defenses are still online, we lose, plain and simple. So before any of that happens, there's one final layer of diversion at hand."

He gave his men a somber look, then over to the Mobile HQ, who returned his look with a nod.

"I'm going to open up a direct channel to the Crimson King," he said. "I'm going to acknowledge his demand to turn myself in, but dispute it warrior to warrior. I'm going to demand the Crimson Fists return my Battlemaster to me, and by the honors of war and the tenets of the Lorix Creed, I'm going to challenge him to single combat."

This brought an uproar from the crowd, which he immediately quieted.

"I'm well aware this could fail," he stated, "That they could simply find my location and send a sniper or a drone. But given that this character likes to put on a show, I don't think his ego will allow him to resist. He'll come out for a fight, and then the rest of the Fists will probably jump me and try to kill me. But every second they're doing that is a second they're not defending the Fort."

"We've come back from the brink already," Gaius said, "And I couldn't be more proud of how you've performed in extreme circumstances. This is the moment we take it all back. This is moment we win this war. And we'll do it, because frankly we don't have the option not to."

He held out his hands to open up the floor. "Now then: any questions before we decide the fate of this planet?"

Raven Rivers

Raven raised his hand and responded.

"If not for the fact that I just re-specced my Shadow Hawk to a long-range model, I'd have offered to stand with you as your second, Colonel. As it is, I envy that you're going to be the first one to punch out that son of a bitch's lights out. As for actual questions... Is the Generator's hardening resistant to particle cannon fire? If not, I volunteer to bring that down."

The old doubts resurged, but the man stamped them down as he spoke, "Now, where is the best position to shoot at that structure? Are there any heights, artificial or natural, or anything else that can give me a clear field of fire against it? Will concentrating our long-range capabilities against the Generator Building give away our actions? It seems to me that despite its protection, it is important enough to bring down in one timely blow; then we can dispose of the pillboxes at will."

Now, to address everything else, "I'll assume that we'll be getting those three Thumpers, then - Reya's just that good. I've made no secret of my sympathies towards the FPA regardless of whether they returned those or not, and if my assumption is right, this is full validation of my stance towards them. So with this, victory is almost assured."

Looking at his old friend directly, Raven then asked one last question, "But just in case a certain thing goes badly, can you name Ingrid or Reya as your successor? No one else but them is suitable for the position. Other than that, no more questions; sorry for my audacity."

@AndyC

Reya was quiet in the briefing and she sat in the back rather than up front like the good student. While she was excited about liberating the rest of the Knights, her care was much more focused and that was primarily for Diego, but her expression throughout the presentation was less expressive than usual and it had grown this way in the time that followed her meeting with the Precentor. What she thought would be a great relief to the Knights and maybe even a cause for some celebration had actually been the complete opposite and the feeling she had when they lifted off from the HPG complex had never gone away, it had just changed and what that meant, she still wasn’t quite sure, only that it was there. No one seemed to want to interact with her at all and not until the briefing had any sort of acknowledgment or appreciation even been offered. Everything distilled down to the look Pop’s gave her when they first got back and spoke of the meeting. It was like she had become marked somehow. Within a few days everyone had that same look. As the Colonel spoke, she absorbed everything effortlessly, but her mind, as it had slowly and more often, every day, started to consider what the Precentor offered.

They didn’t need her, not truly, and the sentiment was always there: Rich girl on adventure. In fairness, that part she had done to herself, but she made the most of it, if there was such a way to look at it; basically becoming Sunny’s mother while tyrants and suicidal maniacs tried to kill her, not to mention going on missions, surviving in a cave and keeping the Knights’ mechs running in top order with basic tools the whole time. She didn’t really consider herself religious, but the Precentor’s words always followed this train of thought- How fate had seemed to continually move her despite the odds. Now the fighting over this mudball felt so trivial. Comstar was so much more and not at all what she thought before. Stop it. A familiar voice chided from the back of her mind. Her countenance remained expressionless despite this, arms crossed and she only shifted in her seat to cross her legs the opposite direction. The Colonel and the Precentor seemed to speak in tandem almost like they were talking over each other. One in front of her and one echoing from her memory. Enough.

The internal debate continued though.

Who were these people even? She could leave now and take Sunny with her. No one knew who she was on Espia. In her shirt pocket was the flower and that would be all she needed. Her hand moved to touch it, just to make sure it was still there, just as she had done many times, but her attention snapped fully to the present as the Colonel mentioned her by name. She ignored the probing glances directed her way as he spoke. With Stiletto there arranging the meeting, she had no doubt Jerard’s influence would be involved. They would get the guns because of Comstar and aside from that, she now wanted to see Stiletto again. Reya had kept the woman’s true allegiance a secret, suspecting it might have been some sort of test however before she could give it much more thought, the entire briefing took an unexpected turn at the Colonel’s pronouncement that he would seek out single combat against the leader of the Crimson Fists.

The uproar was furious, but as soon as he said the words, her mind had already put together a complex equation of logic and emotion that seemed to be simply waiting for the right time. Two pieces that she knew instantly were meant for each other and would answer everything she had felt since all of this started. If the Colonel still would not acquiesce then she accepted her path. As the ruckus of the assembled Knights ebbed for a moment, she stood up and spoke above everyone louder than she ever had: “Colonel Wayne!” Instantly she could feel eyes turning on her. No one had ever heard her speak at more than a polite conversation, but she only looked at the Colonel. “Let me be the one to prepare your mech.”

Of course it made sense in hindsight, there were Star League tunnels used to build up the planet when it was first settled all over the continent, why wouldn’t there be one under the fort? And clearly neither the NPDRE nor the Crimson Fists knew about them, why would they know about that one? And neither would the Knights if Cassandra hadn’t told them. It was extremely lucky someone in the fort found it when they did. She briefly entertained herself with the thought of breaching the prison through the tunnel with their ‘Mechs directly, a smirk creeping up to her face and tugging on the bruise on her cheek that has changed colors at least four times since the brawl, before returning to the real world quickly for the briefing.

”Assuming I had a shot at everything, what’s my target priority order between the barracks, power plant, comms tower, hostile air and ‘Mechs?” Marit turned to Ingrid as the one who’ll be making decisions in the field, though the question could just as well be answered by the Colonel. From looking at the map, they’d have to get rid of a decent amount of the turrets to have a good shot on anything in the first place, making her wonder just how useful hitting the generator would be.
”You also mentioned minefields, do we know where?” She turned back to the Colonel specifically.

Marit didn’t share Raven’s enthusiasm for what she saw as the Colonel’s audition to Valhalla. ”Colonel, is there even a remote chance this diversion will work, given your… Uhh…” She wiggled the fingers of her left hand to illustrate what she meant, trying to avoid the word ‘disability’. That, and putting on a show didn’t mean it would be above board, as Keahi has clearly demonstrated. If the Crimson King wouldn’t bring at least a second ‘Mech to sit in the treeline and snipe at the Colonel’s with a five- or ten-class autocannon or two - cheating while making it look like an actual duel to most outside observers - Marit would be officially surprised.

But this was good. They had a good plan, a dirty trick or two up their sleeve, a Raven with just the right type of madwoman at the stick, a Lance Leader who could see it through, three PPCs between the upgraded Shadow Hawk and Marauder - she subconsciously glanced at the latter ‘Mech’s pilot at the thought - outranging the large lasers.. An actual chance.

Colonel Wayne considered each of his Knights' questions, and tried to answer as many as possible.

"The concerns about engaging with the Crimson King are valid," he began. "I expect he'll want to keep me alive long enough to put on a show, but I don't believe for a second that any one of the Crimson Fists will be interested in a fair fight. Sabotage to the Mech is practically a given, as is the notion that the other Fists will be waiting in the wings. In fact, I'm counting on it. The more of them are waiting to take me out, the fewer of them will be at the Fort."

At Marit's comment, he glanced at his prosthetic hand. "The neural link controlling my prosthetic will interfere with my ability to wear a neurohelmet, that's true. As much as I'd like to, the simple truth is I'll never be able to pilot a Battlemech the way I used to. But I don't need to beat the Crimson King; I just need to stay alive long enough to keep him busy. And my Battlemaster still has enough armor on her that even sustained fire from an entire lance won't bring her down easily."

Glancing over at technician Wyatt, the Colonel gave her an appraising look. She'd definitely come a long way since the coup, from a talented but reserved weapons tech to being able to parlay with a Comstar Precentor. He'd began to lean on her for her burgeoning abilities as the 'face' of the Green Knights' operation, but in truth her real expertise was still working with Mechs. "Wyatt: as per your request you're coming with me. Assuming the Crimson King is going to hedge his bets, you're my best chance at sniffing out sabotage. I'll see if I can get someone else to negotiate with the FPA for use of those Thumpers."

Looking at his Mechwarriors and the crew of the Von Luckner, he went over the tactical overview. "As for those of you conducting the assault on the fort, the first phase of this operation is simply to draw their fire. Ramrod and Desperado, the two of you keep moving, hit what you can where you can, and bring your fire on whatever provides the biggest threat in the immediate moment. Assuming we are able to get the Thumpers on our side, Alley Cat will be instrumental in calling targets. Family Man, I want you to take an elevated position and put that PPC to use against any armored assets that come in for backup. Giggles, your Archer has enough armor to absorb a lot of the small fire, so don't be afraid to brawl, but listen for Alley Cat's signal to provide fire support as well. Merry-Go-Round, as the Mechs clear the way and draw fire, your crew will come up the pass and blast through the fixed positions."

"In the event that Sgt Dalton gets hung up, we go to plan B," he continued. "Any mech with functioning hand actuators will need to enter the complex and start opening doors. If prisoners aren't able to get to the underground tunnels, we may have to physically pick them up and carry them out. Obviously, that means you may have to choose who you take and who you leave; I'm confident that I can trust in your discretion on that."

Taking a deep breath, Gaius said, "There's a good chance that I don't come back from my duel with the Crimson King. In that event, tactical command of the Green Knights is entrusted to Lance Commander Daschke, with advisement from Sgt. Dalton. Logistical command and coordination of the civilian contingent will go to Captain Roth, once she's freed from the Fort. Once operations on Espia are concluded, you'll all receive your share of payment in full, and you'll be free to discuss the future of the command from there."

---

"Maybe we can arrange to have some additional surprises for the Crimson King? If he or his cronies actually show up to meet you, Colonel," Ziska said, the smile having long since left her face.

"If…," Ziska, souring even more at the uncertainty in her proposition, "If the FPA shows up to the dance to play with their delightful instruments, then I will of course be more than happy to offer some direction for their destruction."

"Either way, I'll keep Giggles busy. She's an excellent dance partner and I wouldn't want the NPRDE to have to fight outside the shade."

She hated the idea of a frontal assault. She hated attacking prepared defensive positions. It hadn’t worked on Terra with glorified rifles…and it didn’t work with BattleMechs unless casualties were acceptable to the commanding officer. However, a distraction made sense. Causing trouble for the defending forces of the NRPDE would be necessary. If they were lucky, the soldiers would be lazy. Lulled to sleep by their turrets, mines, and imposing walls. It was too many ifs, far too many ifs for Ziska to be close to happy. But war was war, you had to dare to win.

Ziska turned to flash Reya a smile and a wink that for a moment seemed to return her usual mirth, before turning back to Wayne, "Colonel, I feel obliged to remind you, there are no bonuses for heroics as a MechWarrior. I don’t recommend that you spend any more time than you have to with the Crimson King. An honorable man like you shouldn’t waste his energies on trash like that."

"But…you will present an excellent distraction," Ziska said, laughing with no cruelty in her voice. It was a mad plan. But Colonel Wayne was a mad man. He still believed in honor. He still believed in doing what was right. Ziska found it endearing, somehow, although she shared few of his beliefs about the honor of warfare and MechWarriors. She hoped he'd make it. But she had her own concerns. Tagging targets for the Green Knights would keep her busy enough.

Ziska didn't believe in fate. She didn't care about destiny. She had no need for justice. Colonel Wayne's fate was in his own hands. He had made his choice. They all had. Every step and every minute. It had been fun, she thought. She didn't want to run. She didn't want to die. Not yet. However, what was a MechWarrior? If not a weapon? If not a sword to be used until the edge was chipped and shattered?

No matter what, the Crimson Knights would pay. They would pay in blood and steel. They could kill Colonel Wayne. They could defeat the Green Knights. They could even kill Ziska. But she'd make them pay to do it. Ziska knew what she wanted. Another meeting with the Firewitch. The fry-faced bitch had it coming. And Ziska was going to do whatever she could to make sure that the masked murderer burned once again.

---

@wikkit- Ingrid

---

Tarak nodded to himself as he listened to the briefing. Quietly allowing for the Colonel to speak. They could free the many they had taken and held up. It would not save those who were already lost. Yet this was the chance they could have to unshackle themselves. To free themselves from the fear of prisoners. To take away cards. And targets.

As voices around him spoke, people asking questions and answers being given, Tarak's mind was quiet. It replayed the information again and again. Calculating the targets and finding priorities. He began to feel a slow itching spread up his back as he looked off to the middle distance.

Targets.

Countless targets.

A garrison filled with hundreds of fighting men and women. Small arms are the worst they could field within them. Nothing a mech needs to worry about. Yet enough to stop the whole reason for this operation. Yet was also far enough from the start of the action to not be an easily accessible target. A comm tower that will call in air support. Not only will this risk the downing of mechs but also the vehicles meant to move the prisoners. A much higher priority, yet they would have enough time to move from one objective to the next with the comm tower not being an immediate threat. Pillboxes, each one fielded with machine guns that would slowly wear at light armor and tear apart soft targets. Each one is small and not able to perform much on their own. Each one is easily dealt with on the way to deal with other threats. Best to stamp them out like ants.

Missiles, countless missiles, a hill filled with them and enough terrible power to probably level a Lance within moments if left unattended. Most likely taking how they had been attacked by the Fire Witch before, it is a higher priority as missiles will constantly bombard them. 2 Laser turrets each with fielded with enough power to rival some mechs. Each one has Large lasers and AC/2's able to drop its payload within moments. One of these could easily rip apart the Phoenix Hawk and a few other mechs if they are caught in their ire. Yet there is one target that is higher in priority. A power plant that would knock out not just the heavy turrets but the missiles as well. There was a high incentive that made this one of the biggest and main target. It would drop multiple targets at once.

Tarak nodded to himself for a few moments longer, as he began to lightly itch the back of his neck. Looking around as he listened to the others, as when his callsign was spoken he looked to the Colonel and nodded before he lightly nudged Ingrid and said jokingly, "Looks like we're going to be dancing in the fire again". He then looked around for a moment before he said this time a small smirk on his face, "Hopefully you won't be too stiff for it, Ramrod".

Ingrid smarted a bit with the nudge. These lash-wounds take a while to heal, still visible with her lack of dress uniform at the moment. "I won't be stiff," she said as she rolled her shoulder. "I'll be prepared to move with the course of things, and..."

...she slowly looked up toward the taller man. Realization came to the forefront and she could barely contain her quite famous Daschke anger, "Stiff...is that why you call me Ramrod? Is that why it...nevermind," she exhaled in a most pained way, "forget it, leave this for when we return. Fucking hell..."

Moving past that, this was shaping up to be not only the most important hour of her life, but the most dangerous (the two were likely correlated). Not only that, but things were shaping up to turn out like the stories of heroes that she loved so much. The Colonel, what a man, had offered himself as the scapegoat! Others had concerns, but Ingrid had respect. She wasn't blind to the danger he was putting himself in, but by god it was the perfect sort of danger for a man like him. Two men, two 'mechs, arms and honor flying in the battlefield for a gallant cause! The fact that it wasn't going to be an honorable fight on the side of their enemies, and yet he was going through with it all in the name of the greater good of hundreds of others...

...it was no wonder that, out of the many companies who would have wanted an experienced Lyran officer in their ranks, she joined this one. This was the Colonel that she had seen, what felt like ages ago.

"Colonel, you have my vote of confidence, as if you needed it." She smiled genuinely. "I'd offer my cuirass to give you proper dress for the occassion, but...it wouldn't fit. You'll do fine without it. Regardless," she stood up with her head held high with pride, but also her neck brace, "I won't disappoint. We will finish this and return for you, mark my words."

Given a moment of time, she rose to the stand and offered her own words to the 'mech forces she would be commanding on the field. Her hand went up for a moment of quiet past the earlier hubub, which she received. "I'd ask that the charges be placed, yes. We're going to be the main force behind this prison break, and we can't afford losses early on in the operation - one pass from the Mechbuster could stop us cold. We will make up for the slack. Now, if you wouldn't mind listening to my own suggestion, lance..."

"The core of this struggle will come from getting to the fort in time, and the most obvious way to achieve this would be to run straight in - hence why I figure the main road is mined. They will be coming loaded for bear. I wouldn't doubt they're vibrabombs, they know what we're bringing now, or otherwise remotely detonated. My suggestion is this." It was an odd feeling to be 'suggesting' in this situation, but all she could do was append onto the Colonel's plan. She traced a finger along the southern edge of the operational zone and swung upward, through the narrow pass between two hills. "The entirety of our 'mech forces head through here directly, without pause, damn the turrets. The field is open and wide, and we'll be dealing with our enemy's air support, so the cover provided by the river and the hills to the immediate south of the Fort will be useful. Getting inside the minimum arming distance for these LRM emplacements would neuter much of their effectiveness, and they will be our main concern until we get to the generator."

Adding onto the line provided earlier, she split it off at two points. "Everyone moves as a group, with only the fire support - the Archer - able to afford to lag behind. Still, we need to be roughly one section up until this point." The large hill to the south, bristling with emplacements, was indicated. "The Phoenix Hawk should be best suited for being the close-in threat to the turrets while others move along, and the Shadow Hawk can make good work taking out the turrets from a distance while in cover. Use your jumpjets, they will save valuable time, as your avoiding death is more important than immediately killing their capability to retaliate. They can move through and then enclose themselves between the wall and the hill itself - it'll be difficult for the heavy turret to aim low and close like that, and it'll give your entire backside freedom from anything coming from behind."

"The remainder, which most likely will be myself and Alleycat, will have to make the move into Tieshan itself and offer support in pulling out our people. It won't be an easy entrance; I'll at least go first to give the Raven less opportunities to receive a mine to the foot, provided she detects them. If we get through that, it will be a quick duck into the south pocket, where I'll go for the generator directly and you'll provide designation for the Thumpers. Once that is done, that which we know of ahead of time should be dealt with. The fire support should move up to the front gate and the Phoenix Hawk should move in to begin helping us take out the remaining prisoners, should that be required."

"...I cannot ask that you consider your company over your loved ones, if it becomes a choice. I know I'd be that weak. I have my own person I'm looking for in the fort, and God willing, I'll find her."

"I admit," she said with a beleagured nod to the tank crew in the audience, "that this plan does have the glaring flaw of leaving the Von Lucker in a grey area. This isn't a...lack of thought on my part toward those not in possession of a Battlemech, but genuine uncertainty as to how to approach a heavily fortified complex with its least mobile piece of machinery. In a best case scenario, they are using vibrabomb mines and they are not tuned for the Von Luckner's weight specifically. If you approach them and they prematurely detonate, everything is grand, but can we really afford to be wishful?" She pointed back at the southern edge of the bridge and added "Otherwise, we will have Mechwarrior Saarinen take the time to fire at the route on approach. LRMs spread out over a wide enough area should give you room to drive along the road, where you'll serve as the main screen for any enemy elements coming in from the northwest. If resistance turns out to be too much attempt to link with Desperado."

It was quite the statement to essentially say "You're going to be the first in line to die in case we fuck up" to a group of people who she had just threatened to kill some days ago. Not escaping any allegations of Mechwarrior favoritism this time, she stood by her judgment. "Provided that they're going to be light militia forces, the Von Luckner should be a strong enough deterrent to make them keep distance. If the Crimson Fists come down, then we may have other issues...whatever the case is, avoid a mobility kill on your part. We most likely won't be taking and retaining the Fort, so anything lost on the field will most likely remain lost."

"And on the matter of a nuclear weapon, I cannot imagine a situation in which it is warranted to use such a thing," she said to no surprise at all among those listening. "Beyond the shame it would bring, the potential for loss of life among the prisoners is catastrophic in most scenarios I can imagine...the fallout alone would condemn enough civilians to make me think that a direct nuclear strike on the Fort is unconsciable to the point where I cannot authorize it."

"...I do choose my words carefully." She closed her eyes, and clarified that "In the event of my own death, I am not in a position to make objections. Were both the Colonel and I to be unable to withhold its usage, the situation itself would most likely be dire..." She gave a narrow and weary look to those present. Even if she seemed to be the kind of high-born woman who remained pristine in most situations, the salt and cold and struggle on this planet had visibly aged her in a way she wouldn't realize until she had left Espia behind. "Do with this information as you will. Forgive me for being selfish."

Dinah Partanen

"Uncle Mack's" Industrial Scrapyard
Property of Maxwell Metals Incorporated
A subsidiary of the Aqua Vitae Corporation
100 km south of Geom Haebyon
150 km northwest of Fort Tie
1815 Hours
28 March, 3030

"Eldanka-järven, JÄÄÄÄ
On taakse jäänyttä elämää"

Dinah was often caught in that unfortunate middle in which she made no effort to conceal herself yet was always overlooked. Today was no exception but a particularly egregious case. As the salvage crew reveled and Mechwarriors marveled in the aftermath of their latest Heavy Class haul, Partanen dragged in tow a collection of angular chunks of steel wrapped in what appeared to be plastic rope, the entirety upon a tarp. The bounty could only be pulled a heave at a time, but she nonetheless murmured an upbeat tune, out of rhythm with her physical movements: "On siellä nyt fossit, ja Sassit, puomit, ja passit, JUUUU."

"Korsuissa kamina, siellä pelataan nakkia, raminaa-" The recent note fell flat. She dropped her tarp and stared forward. She rubbed her eyes once then twice at the full company of unanticipated 'Mechs plus another lying prone. She cocked her head. "Huh." After a mighty yawn, she turned around, hoisted again the fabric's corners over her shoulders, and resumed her ditty. "On meillä Fritzit, ja Maxit, ja Petropamaxit, JUUUU."

Maxwell alone noticed her arrival but gave no warm welcome. He stormed forth with petty fury. "Oye, Dinah! See this slag? What, thirty, maybe forty million C-bills for this sucker? Possibly the biggest score o’our lives! See everyone round it? We hauled ass to move this lump o’metal inside th’ gates ‘fore sundown."

Dinah shook the slumber out of her, lifting a full toothed smile to match the light (and yellowed color) of the Terra System. "Congratula-tionss, Myster Maxwell! I nayver do-ubted yi."

"Well, thank ya, I- hey, that's not th’ focus! Stop distractin’ me! ‘Twas all hands on deck. Where the hell were ya?"

Dinah swallowed. "Yi sent me on the twainty vivth to find sale-happy parts from the southeast korhner."

"Yeah, and?"

She motioned to her catch. "So, sale-happy parts. I detached some actu-ator control systems from the discarded limb section! A whole shipment of Perse-uses!"

"Honest" Ollie circumnavigated his underling to peruse the merchandise. "Shucks, Dinah!" he exclaimed. "This’s, what, a few hundred thou at best? Wait a goldarn secun." He used his knees to pick up a joint, dusting off the attached silicon chip. "These ain't even Perseuses, ya numbskull! They're X-65s! Cain't ya read the labels?"

Dinah hung her head dejectedly. "No, sir, I can-not."

"Oh, don't pull the 'illiterate' card on me! Ya know dam whale those’re X-65s!"

"I mean, they serve the same funhction."

"In what universe can I jam an X-65 into a Perseus slot?"

Dinah pantomimed her procedure. "So yi attach it to a J-058 adapter."

"Whale, o’course. Won't work otherwise."

"Yi weld a lyttle byt of styl into the-"

"Sure."

"And yi twyst the my-omer into the-"

"Uh huh."

"And yi reinforce the power supply with a-"

"Yup."

"Yust ensure that-"

"Obviously."

"And then yi sell 'em for half markup as Perse-uses."

Maxwell put his arms on his hips. "So, teknikly, it works. Be a rill bumpy ride, though. Gyro cain't compensate."

Partanen shrugged. "Eh, I've been in worse. My-omer's my-omer, don't matter what Friedhof calls it."

The pit boss pointed an accusatory index finger. "So ya DO know th’ manufacturers!"

"Juu sir, yi told me so."

Maxwell hoisted his hands suspended beside his face, his brow furrowed in consternation. "Dinah, just... let me yell at ya for skimpin’ out on today's haul!"

Dinah glanced behind her at the mechanical muscles. "I'm sorry for fuck up. How may I pay penance?"

Maxwell deflated. "If ya cain't bringit in, perhaps ya can bringit up ta speed. How long will ya need to get that big ol' beast combat ready?"

Partanen looked over her superior and calculated the damage. "I estymate a twainty for hour yob."

"Twenny four hours?" Maxwell's scowl turned to harsh mirth, a glint in his piercing vision. "Ya cain't get ‘er dun in that time!"

"Seems sim-ple enof to me."

"Tell ya what. That Catapult's runnin’ with two good arms by end of day shift tomorrah, I'll let ya take her out for her first spin."

"Uh-"

"Too late! Better watch yer cake hole when next ya open it.” Maxwell cackled, throwing a dismissive palm down in his wake.

"May I at list-"

"Shut it! Go to task, Partanen!"

"...Use showers," she bemoaned. Three days of solitude had taken their toll on her. The last stretch of the expedition had been fueled by the hope to eat something other than bars, to sleep on something softer than metal sheet, to, ahem, in actual functioning toilets. That was apparently far removed from her sights now. She'd meant work hours, three days, not total, one day. She'd require night and graveyard shifts in addition to her regular. She didn't much care to ride the confounded contraption anyways. She gulped as she reminded herself of her modus operandi. Disobedience was failure. Failure led to banishment. Banishment sent her drifting once more across the cosmos. Hers was not to make reply; hers was not to reason why; hers was but to do or die. Into the hull marched the Finn.

0230 hours
29 March, 3030

Unlike the great concerted efforts of the prior afternoon, she could in fact pound, wrench, and screw to the beat of her daily earworm. The mallet slammed into the warped frame to every emphasis of "Pum pum pum! Patteri paukkuu, ja korohorot haukkuu, JUUUU!"

"Oye, Peegeon!"

Dinah's blonde noggin surfaced from the Catapult's right torso shoulder socket. "Juu, bossss?"

Morozov aimed a flashlight at her face. "Do ewe understand vye I em heer?"

She summoned a grin. "No, I don't. Can I haylp with anything?"

"Sere ees reason vye vee stick ewe on sunlight shift, vye vee send ewe very far away for meessions. Ewe our loud, ewe never ztop zinging," he stamped the ground with his boot. "AND VEE OUR TRYING TO ZLEEP!"

"So yi ask me to be qui-eter? Alright, then. I'll hum inste-ad."

"No, my leettel weenged rat," grumbled the old Slav in a foreboding tone, "For vatever purpose Maxvell hess ewe verking overnight, malletz vill make it impozzibul to return to bed." He raised his chin. "Zo I am come down from barracks to laugh at ewer bozz’z mizmanagement."

Her hand popped from the same hole to point at what seemed in starlight like a hanging rack of meat. "If yi help me guide the new arm in, that would be hilario-us!"

"No, no. Zis is Maxvell's proyect. I'll enjoy vatching him vlounder come mornink."

"Understude." Dinah disappeared again, save for a thump, thump thumping across the great hulk's torso. A lever was pulled. The right arm fell off and crumpled into itself.

He ducked for cover. "Are ewe insane? Sere iz long range mizzul viss ammunition in sere!"

"Don't be big baby," Her voice reverberated from the chest cavity. It felt as if the Catapult itself talked to Morozov. "I alre-ady removed it, and it wouldn't explode on yi if it did. I deco-upled it from the autolo-ader. That limb has so many holes that it's che-aper and faster to attach a new one from scratch, use a couple of those X-65 pi-eces."

Morozov chortled and, still fatigued, wandered off to at least attempt rest. The loud clanging did not cease until morning. “Goodbye, Peegeon. God’s blezzing go viss ewe, because Maxvell sure von’t.”

1900 hours
29 March, 3030

Maxwell puffed out his chest as he approached the 'Mech in question. The beast had all limbs but was still attached to chains. "Whale, whale, Dinah, looks like yer mouth’s written chex that yer ass cain't-"

The loudspeaker announced, "Oh shoot, he's arrived. Um." The fusion engines roared to life. With a shrug, the chains were lightly tossed aside. "I stink, and I nayd to go to the bathro-om. I request a ten minute brekk, if possssible." The missile bays readied as if for extra bargaining leverage.

Maxwell, at first dumbfounded, bellowed hearty laughter and applauded, genuinely. "I'll be a monkey's uncle! Ya actually did it, ya son of a bitch!" He motioned to the Green Knights' barracks. "The Knights’re about to launch off in a half hour. They brief their mission in that room. Take yer place there; ya've earned it!"

"Well, first, could I… Never mind." She popped outside the cockpit and jogged her way to the appropriate facility. "Yi were correct, Maxwell. It duss feel a tad wobbly, but she'll move fine."

1915 hours (one bathroom break later)
29 March, 3030

She entered the enclosure, where a large projected map of the battlefield lay. She took two minutes to squint her eyes and soak in the information. "Generator, turrets, comms tower..." Within a single deep breath, she was beaming. "We have a Catapult if yi wish to employ her. Reportyng for duty! And, um," she fingered small circlets at the white lines, "there's no way we can punch through those walls, correct? Fills very nar-row to lead company thro-ugh."

Cassandra entered the briefing without her usual bravado, but nonetheless kept her unyielding aura of superiority without saying a word. Jon followed behind and stood with arms crossed as the Colonel presented the details of the mission. Occasionally, Cassandra would lean and motion silently to ask him a question about some detail or military jargon she didn’t understand. The briefings, at least the few that Jon had seen, were kind of unusual in military terms. Wayne never laid out exactly what he wanted his people to do, instead he sort of acted like an intel officer and set out the problems, then when the actual commander should have taken over and assigned ops and talked about strategy, the Knights’ just became an open forum which was slightly amazing and disorienting at the same time. Naturally, the strange-talking Raven was the first to pipe up, hardly able to contain himself as if it were a race to see who could get the floor first. Jon wiped a hand over his face.

The briefing continued and though he knew what was coming, he remained stoic. One of the nicer points about the scrapyard, being scrapper himself, was that it was very easy to act natural. Once he’d threatened to shoot a few of Uncle Mack’s crew if they came anywhere near Ossie, they all got along famously. Jon watched the discussion go around the room. Stolid as he was, it was damned hard to contain a guffaw at the thought of handing over discretion of the nuclear warhead to the haughty Lyran woman. He thought Cassandra might have noticed him flinch a little and she smirked. However the idea of a pocket-sized mechwarrior vaporizing all of them with a pocket nuke was not nearly as comical as the talk of “honors of war” and so on. He didn’t care about any of that. Victory would go to whoever could be the most feral bastard still standing. If the “Crimson King” showed him his front plate, he was going to shoot. A Battlemaster had a nice armaglass cockpit as big as a barn. Out to 500 meters it would be damn near like standing right in front of the target. He caught Marit’s glance and winked back at her.

Cassandra again pulled at his shirt and he leaned in to listen as the plans were apparently made by the Knights. From a distance her expression could be seen to lighten and then narrow into a fierce smirk as Jon whispered something back. She again patted him on the shoulder like a loyal pet. Smiling was an unusual tell for her and it was gone in an instant as she spoke up: “I will handle the negotiations with the FPA, Colonel.” She said, her tone was one that easily cut over all others, honed from years of politics and people on Espia and beyond. A company of mercenaries might as well have been a kindergarten class and she was fairly confident a few liked to eat crayons. “I will allow Jonathan and his mech to accompany the Green Knights for this mission, however-” Her face was cooler and businesslike again. This was her element and she did indeed own the place. “While I am disposed with the FPA, he is only to report directly to you Colonel, no one else.”

Jon surveyed the room for a moment, gauging the reactions and keeping quiet. No one had to like Cassandra and it was pretty obvious from what he had seen in his time on world that she had a certain disdain for younger females whether they were in her employ or otherwise. On top of this, for the Knights she also represented the bank and would see them paid if or when this was successful. He had no doubt she had a backup plan. She was definitely that thorough and was one of the smartest people he ever met, whether or not those plans included him was another thing altogether.

Colonel Wayne considered the proposals from the new arrivals.

The pilot from Maxwell's scrappers was new, and Gaius was hesitant to put an untested pilot into the line of such heavy fire. On the other hand, he'd watched them reassemble the salvaged Catapult and take it on test runs. The woman had an aptitude for Mech piloting, which was encouraging. More to the point, adding the Catapult to the fighting force, alongside Saarinen's Archer, would nearly double the amount of long-range fire that Ziska's Raven could direct.

"Very well," the Colonel nodded, "Partanen, you're in. You'll be on the second-line alongside the Archer. Between the two of your mechs we'll be stretching our LRM reloads fairly thin, so make your shots count. That mech isn't as heavily armored as the Archer, but the jump jets give it more maneuverability, so if anyone gets too close, put your lasers into them and then jump to cover."

Looking over at Ms. Jeong and Mr. McCord, Gaius felt a mix of relief and trepidation. In truth, they wouldn't have been nearly as successful in this campaign without the support provided by Cassandra's deep pockets and way with words, so he knew she'd be certain to secure a deal with the FPA to get those Thumpers. With those artillery batteries and the combined firepower of the Knights, it might be possible to turn this raid not just into a diversionary action, but a successful assault to take the fort itself.

On the other hand, he knew that every dealing the Green Knights made with Cassandra Jeong put them that much deeper into her pocket. They were already in debt to her, and sooner or later, she was going to come to collect. Obviously they had a common enemy for now, but once Federov was toppled and the Crimson Fists were dead, who's to say where she would want their guns pointed next?

"We'll discuss the price for securing support from the FPA on completion of the mission, Ms. Jeong," he said, knowing he was kicking yet another can down the road, "but in the immediate moment, the sooner you can get us those guns, the better."

"As for Mister McCord," he said, turning to the pilot of the Marauder, "You'll be with myself and Ms. Wyatt. They won't be expecting another Mech on the field, and the spot I've chosen for the duel has plenty of heavy woods for concealment. You're a hell of a shot with your PPCs, so I'm going to count on you to be my insurance policy. We'll stick you in the woods where you can remain powered-down until the Crimson King and his entourage enter the field, and I'll lure him into a clear line of fire for you. Bear in mind, this is still a delaying action; if we spring the trap too quickly, they'll turn around and leave. But the instant I give the signal, or if the other Crimson Fists decided to join in, you'll power up your Mech and aim for the enemy Battlemaster's head."

Headhunting wasn't exactly considered 'honorable' combat, but the Colonel knew full-well that the Crimson King had no intention of a clean duel. Gaius believed in the honors of war, but he knew better than to hold his enemy to the same standard.

"On the other hand," Colonel Wayne continued, "If I don't give the signal, or if the odds are so stacked that another Mech on the field won't tip the balance in our favor, you will remain shut down until the Crimson Fists leave the area, then take Ms. Wyatt to safety."

Dinah Partanen

"Uncle Mack's" Industrial Scrapyard
Property of Maxwell Metals Incorporated
A subsidiary of the Aqua Vitae Corporation
100 km south of Geom Haebyon
150 km northwest of Fort Tie
1920 Hours
29 March, 3030

"Partanen, you're in," an apparent coordinator said. He'd addressed her by her surname, without its prior mention! Maxwell must've introduced her in absentia, presuming her success and preemptively preparing bonds with newfound comrades! Beyond his unforgiving carapace, Uncle Mack truly did care. The revelation so preoccupied Dinah that she ignored Wayne's run on sentence, the lone phrase "jump jets" the exception. She'd merely passed across them in the restless day of mechanics, let alone operated them. She swallowed. They weren't substantial. She ought to be fine. Right? "Yump yets. Got it, ser!" She saluted.

Nothing like mild panic to reinvigorate a fatigued thrall, especially compounded with the light stink eye emanating from the Lyran lass. Despite possessing dazzlingly porcelain skin and yet whiter hair, the cosmopolitan impressed upon the yokel vibes of Illyria's dankest, darkest crevices that would ensnare her eternally were she not vigilant. The remnant soot on Dinah's brow began to itch. She tapped the floor nervously to the rhythm of polka, halting briefly every time before her boot slammed the ground. Oom pa, halt step. She must speak savvily or risk losing her foothold atop already thin ice. After the presenter instructed her Taurian peer, she seized the opportunity. "And we shuld rati-on the long range mis-siles," she opined. Perfect. "I don't need that many; I'll use the la-sers inste-ad!" Her grin was too dumb to hate. And why would they? She'd offered valuable insight that even the commander might overlook!

She ascended to her tiptoes and stretched her arms skyward, touching the Mobile Headquarters's ceiling with her digits' tips as she swung them outward and downward. "Beggyng par-don, but I wonder how much longer we'll have until la-unch." She'd mentally prepared a response matrix, though only in pictures. Thirty minutes, a shower. One hour, a proper meal. Two hours (blessed fortune), a nap. She dreaded, but fully anticipated, the reply of "Now."

Marit nodded along Ingrid’s realization with a mostly-suppressed grin. ”Cover your approach, clear the road as needed. Got it.” She read back, taking solace in knowing it was possible to stay beyond medium range of all of the turrets at the same time and hide behind a hill as they traded fire. Given the possible mine-clearing duties, it looked like lasers would get to do some talking. Running right up to LRM turrets and giving them what’s what was probably the smart thing to do anyway. ”But since we’re all being gloomy and you brought it up, what’s the line of succession after you if it all goes to Hel? Rivers, Ziska, then Tarak?”

”I’ve trained extensively for that exact model as a kid, know my way around the cockpit blindfolded.” Marit turned to Dinah, not really trusting the scrapper in a fight but maintaining a genuine, friendly tone. Who knew, maybe she had experience. ”Need help with anything, let me know and don’t be afraid to use me for cover. Archie can take a hit or two.” But having more guns on the field was nice, especially since the Marauder got sent elsewhere, and the Catapult was a competent machine. She just hoped everyone could understand her over the radio. It’s been a while since Marit heard her father’s native tongue, much less a heavy accent like that.

---

Coming out of the briefing, Marit had a thought. ”What kind of a weapon are you that Ingrid is trusted with a nuke, but not you?” She turned to Jon with a chuckle. ”Bring all three of you back in one piece, yeah? Enough empty chairs here as is.”

NPDRE Forward Operating Base
North Nui Awa
0130 Hours
30 March, 3030

"Get a load of this shit," Jester 2 said with a derisive chuckle, beckoning the timid AsTech over to her. In the couple of days she'd had since she and her Mech had avoided the shootout in the mountain pass, she'd taken to tormenting the skinny blonde tech as a way to relieve stress, make herself feel more powerful as events in the war seemed to be totally out of her hands. Whatever the Crimson King had in mind, whatever the Duchess's grand plans were for sending them to this backwater planet in the first place, it wasn't her call to make. All she was here for was to shoot who the King told her to shoot.

"What's wrong, sir?" the AsTech came rushing over, her eyes heavy with sleeplessness after yet another double-shift, her voice filled with trepidation. "We've run diagnostics on every system on the Warhammer and triple-checked, she should be combat-ready once the machine gun ammunition is--"

"Quit yapping!" Jester 2 barked from behind the laughing-skull paint job of her helmet. She raised a backhand, and was satisfied to see the AsTech flinch. "I told you to come watch, not talk. Check it out; the Crimson King just forced the Green Knights' hand."

Pulling up the live feed on her noteputer, the Crimson Fist Mechwarrior displayed a broadcast from a stone-faced man the news identified as Colonel Gaius Wayne.

"--reject your accusations outright, and demand the right to defend our honor. Since arriving on Espia, the actions of the Crimson Fists have not been of Mechwarriors worthy of the title, but of bloodthirsty thugs and cowards. Whoever you are, 'Crimson King,' I know that under your mask, you aren't the fearsome mercenary you pretend to be. You're likely a vain, spineless little man, maybe an idle noble too far from succession to have a title, maybe a corporate trust-fund layabout. A spoiled brat of a child, playing at war. And when we started breaking your toys, you decided to throw a tantrum."

"Oh, King's not gonna like that," Jester 2 said with a tssk.

"Still, even though I know I'm talking to a puffed-up parody of a Mechwarrior," the Colonel continued, "I can tell that you also can't resist the chance to put on a show. By the tenets of the Lorix Creed, by the honors of war, and by my own merits as a warrior and as a man, I challenge you to single combat. You have my Battlemech, a BLR-1G Battlemaster identical to the one you pilot, in your possession. Bring that Mech to the coordinates I'm attaching to this message, and the two of us will be on equal grounds to settle this. If you have any shred of integrity, the slightest whiff of a warrior's spirit-- to put it quite bluntly, if you have the balls for it-- you will fight me at dawn, and maybe, just maybe....whatever parent or authority figure you're currently failing to impress will think better of you when it's done."

The instant the message cut off, Jester 2's comm-link went active.

"Attention, all Crimson Fists!" came the voice of the Crimson King. "Mount up, and prepare to move out!"

Jester 2 laughed. "Oh wow, that really got under his skin," she chuckled, heading towards her tent. "Help me get the links for my Neurohelmet attached, and I'll get the Warhammer spun up and ready to roll. Promise not to step on ya on my way out."

"Right behind you..." Wrathchild said, her knuckles white as she gripped a heavy actuator wrench in one hand, and stepped into the tent after the enemy Mechwarrior...

---

Outside Fort Tie Shan
Before Dawn
30 March, 3030

"Ah, okay, everyone," Lieutenant Lyons called out from the command console of the Mobile HQ, seated back a few kilometers from the Fort. "We're in position, keeping overwatch. Average response time for aerial defense assets is ten minutes, five if the Espian Guard is on high alert. So we'll need to move quickly once the shooting starts. We'll be scanning the area for enemy contacts and calling them out to you!"

Lyons clearly wasn't comfortable with the Colonel gone, but they had a job to do, and an awful lot of people counting on them. Higgins and Windham were actually behaving themselves for a change, as even they could appreciate the seriousness of what was at stake.

"Comms chatter is looking light so far," Cadet Higgins said, "Sounds like the Colonel pissed off the fists enough that the Mech force is all a good ways west of us. A fair amount of regular chat among the personnel. I don't think they know we're coming."

"Seismic sensors show two fifty-ton contacts, and two twenty-fivers," Cadet Windham said. "Given their movement profiles, we're likely looking at a garrison force of armor, probably a couple of Scorpion light tanks and a couple of medium hovertanks. On top of the turrets, those might be a problem."

"APCs and evac fleet are in position," Sgt. Dalton called in. "Give the word, and me and the Boys will start making some noise."

"We're all counting on you, Green Knights," said Lyons, "Good hunting!"