New Falkirk, Banori

Outworlds Alliance

2 August 2784, 1845 Local Time

Peter Davenport pulled the ball cap down a little tighter before opening the door to leave the grocer. His pack was stuffed with his purchase of freeze-dried meals, the last item on the list of supplies he’d be taking on this leg of the journey to his new home. He ducked his head to avoid the brunt of the wind-driven rain and jogged to the bus stop on the other side of the street. It had a small, covered shelter, though it was of little use against the storm. Huddling into the corner, he put it to the best use he could, managing to keep the blowing sheets of rain from soaking his clothes through. The disposable data tablet he’d purchased a few days earlier buzzed in his jacket’s inner pocket, it’s chirping barely audible over the pounding of the rain. He pulled it out and thumbed the answer button, not having to look at the caller identification display. He’d purchased the data-tab after learning of the change of schedule on the freight hauler he’d booked passage on, and the dropship’s passenger liaison was the only person with the number.

He answered with an upbeat, “Frank, here.”

“Mr. Garrison, this is Harold Nobora. We spoke earlier this week about your travel plans?”

“Right! I’m on my way, Mr. Nobora. I just stopped for a few last minute things. I’ll be there in less than twenty minutes.”

“Excellent. Boarding ramp is up at 1920, and we’re gear up at 1930 sharp. Captain Mills hates to be late and we’re already four days later than we’d planned.” The sound of heavy machinery was in the background and he sounded distracted, even over the poor connection.

Pete made sure that Frank Garrison’s excitement was obvious, “I’ll be there. I’m ready to leave this rock!”

“Great. See you soon- SHIT! Hey, watch the pressure in that tan-” the line when dead as the liaison killed the connection, his attention apparently needed elsewhere. Pete, or Frank Garrison (the identity he has assumed here on Banori for his stay,) had guessed the first time he’d met the passenger liaison that he also doubled as the cargomaster on the ship, keeping him quite busy. He was surprised that the man had taken the time to contact him at all, considering.

His use for the data-tab at an end, Pete flipped it over in his hand and smashed it against the lip of the 55-gallon drum that doubled as a waste container at the bus stop. The data-tab split, the two broken halves hanging together by a ribbon of wires. He tossed the ruined device into the bin, satisfied that the micro-board inside of it was broken beyond repair. He hadn’t inputted any unnecessary data onto the device, but there wasn’t any point in taking chances, he reasoned. Certainly not after getting this far, and being so close to the end of his journey.

The bus rounded the corner and came to a halt in front of the stop, splashing muddy water from the gutter up into the shelter. A quick hop behind the waste drum saved Pete the indignity and discomfort of soaked pants on his ride to the starport. The door swung open, and a man who looked old enough to be his grandfather smiled from the driver’s seat.

“Just so you know, I’m headed straight for the starport.”

“Well, that’s where I’m headed,” Frank beamed back from the shelter, oblivious to the rain.

“Then get in here, son. You’ll catch cold in this rain,” chided the driver.

Frank hopped onto the bus and made sure to take a seat far enough back to avoid conversation with the chatty driver, but not so far back it was obvious. There were two other people on the bus, both starport workers by the looks of their clothes. One snoozed silently in the back while the other sat across the isle from Frank, engrossed in a rather loud game on his data-tab. Frank leaned forward and shrugged off the pack, setting it on the seat beside him. Leaning back, he closed his eyes and relaxed a bit. He was less than 45 minutes from being off Banori and a step closer to his new home on Praxton. The gentle sway of the bus over the road out of town relaxed Pete, who had barely slept since arriving on planet over a week ago. Thankful for a chance to close his eyes, his mind wandered to the events that had lead him where he was now, light-years from his home and everything he’d ever known.

In mid-2766, just months before Stefan Amaris’ bid to overthrow the Star League, Pete had been transferred to Terra. A young lieutenant in the Star League Defense Force’s 77th Special Operations Group, the “Blackhearts” as they’d come to be known, he had been conducting counter-terrorism operations out in the Taurian Concordat. The orders he’d received, awarding him six months of R&R on Terra before taking up duties at the Blackheart’s primary training base in eastern Europe were going to have been a welcome change of pace. Not that he’d been exactly happy about being taken off the line, such as it was in the Concordat, but their operations had been taxing, and he’d been in the field for two years. The Blackhearts were being put to good use, but it seemed that for every enemy resistance cell they unearthed and quashed, another sprung up. Pete had likened the task to one of the labors of Hercules. The Greek demi-god had fought the dreaded hydra, a beast who, when one of it’s many heads was cut off, another would grow to take it’s place.

After three months of travel, he’d arrived back on Terra and reported to the Blackhearts’ base for debriefing before taking his leave. There he’d met Lisa. A fellow lieutenant in the Blackhearts, Lisa Buhallin had recently been assigned to the unit and was undergoing familiarization at the facility. Pete had wanted to meet the new Lieutenant, one of the Blackheart’s few mechwarrior specialists, and had been surprised to find more than just camaraderie between the two of them. During the two weeks of his debrief, they’d spent as much time together as they could, and Pete had enjoyed every minute. He had been pleased when Lisa informed him she had cashed in some leave time she’d saved to accompany him on the first month of his leave. They’d happily gone down to the the southern continent of Australia together, where he had arranged the use of a cottage on a remote island that was owned by a family friend, just off the Great Barrier Reef. Oblivious to the coming horrors that awaited them, Peter and Lisa had been as impatient as two school children the day before summer vacation the entire trip down.

He remembered what came next like it had happened yesterday.

December 27th, less than a week after their arrival, Pete and Lisa had been relaxing on the beach together near midnight, enjoying the lapping of the surf on their toes by the light of the moon and a couple of tiki torches they’d found in the cottage’s shed. Lisa had brought out the small, portable radio to listen to a classical station she’d found earlier in the day. When she switched the radio on, there was nothing but silence for a few moments, then the emergency alert tones blared out, a stark contrast to the serenity they were enjoying up to that moment. Pete had first thought it might have been a weather alert, thought he didn’t recall anything threatening from the forecast he’d checked just earlier that afternoon. Suddenly, the announcer came on air. This wasn’t a computer generated message like most emergency alerts, and the man was obviously shaken, as could be heard in the thin frailness of his voice. Something was wrong; very wrong, and they both felt it.

“Ladies and gentleman,” the announcer began, seemingly on the verge of tears, “If you’re just tuning in…” His voice trailed off, as if he were trying to collect himself, “Please forgive me. We’re all in shock here at the news, ourselves. Kelly, just play the recording, please. Let’s let them hear it again.” Silence followed for a couple seconds, then a refrain from an unfamiliar, though obviously martial tune played,

“Citizens of Terra,” a new voice confidently addressed them, “I am Xavier Valdori, newly appointed Secretary if the Interior and Administrator of Terra. As of 5 pm UTC, Lord Stefan Amaris has taken control of Terra and declared himself Emperor of the Hegemony, following the abdication of Richard Cameron. Martial law is in effect and enforced by the Rim Worlds Republic Military. All Star League Defense Force personnel are ordered to report to their current duty station for surrender. I will be clear, any Star League Defense Force unit or personnel claiming authority are outlaw, and are to be reported to Republic forces immediately. As of this recording, we have achieved 95% unit compliance. A planet-wide curfew is in place, effective immediately. More information will be provided by your local law enforcement officials. Please remain calm at this time, and all will be well. Long live the Emperor.” The recording ended with the same tune it had begun.

The announcer came back on air, “Ladies and Gentlemen, what you just heard was a recording received by this station from the regional governor’s office. Many of you have been calling the station with questions and unfortunately, that’s all the information we have to give you right now. We’re waiting for a more direct statement from authorities. We have unconfirmed reports of weapon fire near SLDF Castle Shoal Point outside of Mackay, and even a report of battlemech activity; but again, it is unconfirmed at this time. We’ll keep you up to date on any new-” with a burst of static, the radio went dead. The sky to their southeast glowed faintly for a few seconds, then went dark.

Pete had looked at Lisa’s face and seen a mix of confusion, anger, and fear that he was sure was mirrored on his own, ”An EM burst…”

Lisa voiced the conclusion he didn’t want to finish. “They’re using nukes. Probably just blew the transmitter. The station is in Proserpine; if they had hit there…”

“…we’d already be dead.” Pete completed the grim thought for her. “Shoal Point probably didn’t surrender, and it looks like we just found out how Amaris is dealing with resistance. If they find us, we’re as good as dead. We have to leave. Now.”

He and Lisa had gathered supplies and headed for the mainland. Not knowing what they could expect to find, or who to trust, they spent days on the run. Even in the first few days, the Terran citizenry’s rejection of Stefan Amaris’ rule was clear. Less than twelve hours after hearing of the coup, Pete witnessed protests and riots in many towns and cities. Unfortunately, Republic troops were reacting with extreme force, often using sonic cannons, water jets, and tear gas to disperse the crowds. They even saw mechs deployed against one particularly rowdy group with deadly consequences. Unable to risk revealing their identities as Star League officers for fear of capture by Republic forces, they made the difficult decision to keep themselves hidden. They would make Amaris pay for each life his men took, but now was not the time. Eventually, they made their way to the estate of Uriah Johnston, a family friend of Pete’s, and the owner of the beach house they were using before their vacation was cut short. Here, they took shelter, awaiting an opportunity to try to connect with any surviving loyalist troops.

Several months went by with no opportunity presenting itself for them to make any kind of move. Finally, they got the break they were looking for. The initial violence of the coup died down and life on Terra was returning to as much a normal pace as could be expected. Uriah owned a large shipping conglomerate which had previously held contracts with the Terran Hegemony. Though his dropships had been commandeered by Rim World forces, they still used Uriah’s crews, pressed into service ferrying materials and supplies for the Republic forces. Even though Amaris was suppressing almost all news in the Hegemony worlds, Uriah’s crews brought back a steady stream of news about conditions in cities and on other planets to which they were sent. The captain of a ship that had recently returned from Geneva reported that Republic forces were combating heavy civil unrest in the region. Small Republic outposts were being raided, convoys were being ambushed, and several puppet officials that Amaris had placed in power had been found dead. Word on the street was the attackers were leaving calling cards: a black ace of hearts. Apparently, some of Pete and Lisa’s unit had survived the purge and was waging a guerrilla war against the Republic occupation forces. Uriah’s captain had made contact with a local resistance cell with the intent to smuggle supplies to them. Pete convinced Johnston to arrange for them to masquerade as crewmen on one of his ships bound for the European continent and help them try to make contact these survivors.

Once there, the two of them were assisted by civilian resistance groups in getting in contact with the Blackhearts. They found that few of the 77th SOG’s training company had survived the coup. A few veteran training officers and even fewer cadets had been sent to ground at the beginning of the coup, the Blackheart’s commanders knowing that any immediately resistance would only end in the death of the entire unit. The rest of members of the unit had staged a desperate last stand in the hope that their sacrifice would buy the rest time they needed to escape. Word was that they had acquitted themselves valiantly and cost the Republic forces several regiments of their finest troops. The remaining Blackhearts had begun organizing the fledgling resistance cells in the region, training them in insurgency and espionage tactics. They had slowly networked the individual groups together until they had a respectable intelligence gathering system working for them. Then they had begun low-scale direct operations. The unit didn’t have much in the way of supplies or heavy weaponry, but they had managed to secure their Nighthawk power armor, which gave them a huge advantage. They had keep their activities low-level at this point, for fear that the Republic would reply with heavy-handed tactics like they had at the beginning of the coup. Though they had initially used nuclear and chemical weapons against the SLDF troops, Amaris grew hesitant as time went on. Reports from informants in the Republic army indicated that they showed restraint because they feared a full-scale uprising of the general population.

Reunited with their unit, Pete and Lisa began what evolved into an over decade long guerrilla war against the forces of Stefan Amaris, or “The Usurper” as he was called by those still loyal to the Star League and it’s de facto leader in exile, General Alexandr Kerensky. They had known from the beginning they could not topple the madman. His forces were just too strong after years of slowly rotating out SLDF units and replacing them with Rim Worlds forces loyal to himself. For years before the coup, Richard Cameron had been replacing SLDF regiments sent to the periphery conflicts with Rim World Republic units and mercenary bands personally recommended by Amaris himself. Many in the SLDF, including Kerensky, had objected, but Amaris had the young First Lord’s trust. His success at this subterfuge virtually guaranteed victory for the coup, and sealed the fate of thousands of Star League troops tasked to defend Terra. Most fought and died. Those who surrendered were murdered in cold blood. All the cards were in Stefan Amaris’ hands, and he played them well. However, the resistance did all they could to keep Republic forces off balance and bogged down, unable to leave Terra for fear of losing it to open rebellion.

Their situation was precariously desperate. Perpetually behind enemy lines, they were constantly outnumbered and outgunned. General Kerensky seemingly turned his back to them and waged war against the Rim Worlds Republic instead of immediately liberating Terra. Cut off from the logistic might of the Terran Hegemony worlds, he moved to capture Amaris’ own home, both to feed and supply his army and to send the traitor a message. The great general risked sending a message to those left on Terra, too, via the few spy assets he had left in the Amaris-controlled Hegemony. Kerensky urging them to stay strong and never give up. He’d promised to return, at the head of the entirety of the Star League Defense Force. The general had a plan, and they had to trust him.

Pete remembered how they fought to keep the hope of the population alive. A decade of resistance took it’s toll on a population, slowly eroding it’s will to defy the invaders. Amaris responded with the ruthless efficiency of a dictator, desperate to subdue the rebels and enslave the wills of the citizenry. Cell after cell of the resistance was hunted down and destroyed. Their friends and comrades died in the name of freedom, fighting a war from the shadows. Nevertheless, Peter and Lisa had fought with every ounce of strength and skill they possessed. Expecting each battle to be their last they somehow always managed to emerge alive, though not always victorious.

Over a decade of fighting changed them. It forged them into something they never knew they could be. It hardened them, and bound them together. They found in each other a strength to carry on when either one of them, alone, would have faltered. Lisa, though relatively young and new to command at the time of the coup, grew to be one of the best strategist he had ever served with, and Pete, at his best in his Nighthawk armor with a gun in his hands, served as her lieutenant. He had been green by no means before, but years of fighting had honed Peter’s skills and instincts into a fine, razor’s edge. Allowing him to execute Lisa’s plans with the ability of one born for war.

Finally, in 2777, their work, planning, blood, sweat, and tears paid off. Kerensky, after conquering the Rim World Republic, had refitted his army the best he could and brought war to the Hegemony. After capturing several key worlds around Terra, he moved as many remaining divisions as he could to the Terra system. The largest military flotilla ever assembled converged on the homeworld of humanity with one purpose: the end of the war and the final defeat of Amaris the Usurper.

Resistance cells around the globe assaulted key installations around the planet as the SLDF fleet approached. Causing as much havoc for the defending Republic forces as they could, they strove to overwhelm the capacity of Amaris’ army to deal with the situation. Lisa and Pete’s team accepted the most important and dangerous mission; the assault on the Reagan Space Defense network’s operations base. In a desperate bid to take the ground-based components of the system offline, their team infiltrated one of the heavily secured fortresses that housed a SDS communication hub. At the beginning of the SLDF’s Hegemony campaign, an intel team had found a hidden set of access codes for the system’s communications networks. Use of the codes had allowed the navy to jam the networks, speeding their progress and making each system’s conquest a much less costly endeavor. The Republic army became aware of this fact and had devised a way to rotate the command codes to the SDS, but it had to be done manually from the planetary hub. Lisa and Pete’s team had to take control of the SDS long enough to implant a virus that would lock out the Republic forces from manually rotating the command frequencies, otherwise the entire operation would end in disaster. The assault was a desperate race, fought meter by meter, each step paid for in blood with the lives of their team. Amaris’ troops fought to the last man and woman, delaying the assault teams long enough that the system was able to partially engage before they could complete their objective. Losses in the invasion armada were staggering, but they had prevented the wholesale slaughter of the entirety of the remaining SLDF.

Pete had stood by Lisa, tears running down both their faces, as they watched Kerensky walk down the boarding ramp of his Colossus class dropship and announced his intention to liberate Terra and end Amaris’ illegitimate reign. Two more years of fighting led them both to the assault of the Terran Palace, where they witnessed one of the most memorable acts in history: General Alexandr Kerensky kicking down the gates in his Orion. The rule of Amaris had ended, Terra was freed from his merciless grip, peace was to be restored, and the Star League rebuilt.

The peace they had fought and died for would not last, however.

During the years after the Civil War, Pete and Lisa had worked to rebuild the 77th SOG. Reduced to less than a company’s operational strength, it was no mean task. Fortunately, a relatively large amount of the command’s officers had survived, meaning the group’s effective loss of experience was minimized. The Star League Council of Lords, whom hadn’t even the spine to formally back Kerensky during his fight to liberate Terra and overthrow the Usurper, couldn’t agree on who was to lead the League, and take the throne as First Lord. Having at first heaped praise on the general, after being certain that he had attained victory, of course, they eventually turned on him, stripping him of his title of Protector of the Star League, and effectively destroying the last vestige of Star League authority. The League quickly fell apart, each of the lords taking full control over their respective nations. Despite the deteriorating state of the League, Pete and Lisa continued working towards bringing the Blackhearts back to ready status, knowing the unit’s expertise would be a valuable asset to the general if again, conflict ensued.

Upon being stripped of his duties as Protector, Kerensky went into seclusion, the civil war having taken it’s toll on the him. Responsibilities that would have crushed a lesser man weighed on him heavily. He needed solitude and a chance to consider the future. Finally on 14 February, 2784, he issued the orders outlining Operation Exodus. To prevent the remains of the SLDF from being used to destroy the very people it had been created to protect, Kerensky planned on leading every member that would follow him in self-imposed exile from the Inner Sphere. His plan did not give specifics, nor a destination. Only that any unit loyal to him was to meet in the New Samarkand system by June. He stressed that this was not a legal order. He had been stripped of office and had no authority. The enlisted of the SLDF who wished to stay would be granted an honorable discharge, officers would be allowed to resign their commissions with no penalties. Families and dependents were welcomed by the general in his order, implying he expected to remain in exile for some time. Some in the SLDF immediately declared for Kerensky and Exodus, while others against. Most units and members took their time making such an immense decision.

Peter remembered the awkwardness between Lisa and himself after reading Kerensky’s plan. They had been together for so long, they both knew the views of the other, and they knew those views destined them for separate paths. Pete believed that the Star League was an idea stronger than the hatred and distrust the great houses shared for each other. He felt the oath they had taken to defend the League and it’s citizens surpassed the petty politics of the times and that the SLDF needed to stay and fulfill that oath. Lisa leaned in the opposite direction, seeing the unseating of Kerensky as Protector and disbanding of the Council as the last nail in the coffin of the Star League. The Inner Sphere had abandoned the ideas that made the League, so the SLDF owed them no loyalty. Better to leave, than to suffer the coming conflict. Peter and Lisa’s time together was coming to an end, and they both knew it.

On a cold day in early March, they stood at the bottom of the boarding ramp as the last dropship from Terra bound for the exodus fleet readied to leave. Ignoring the wind and snow whipping around them, they simply embraced, any words that might have been said useless. Finally, Pete, knowing the time had come say goodbye, tried to make light of the situation despite the emptiness in his heart,

“You don’t want to miss your flight, now do you?”

Tears brimming, Lisa looked down at the tarmac, barely containing the sobs lodged in her throat.

“No, I wouldn’t, would I? was all she could manage.

Standing in the freezing snow atop a hill outside the Oslo Spaceport, Peter watched Lisa’s ship until it disappeared into the clouds. Having no more tears to shed he simply wished her luck in all her future endeavors.

In the end, eighty percent of the SLDF forces that survived the Civil War sided with Kerensky. The remaining twenty percent that stayed either disbanded, were absorbed by the house armed forces, or turned to mercenary work.

The next few months were a blurred whirlwind in his mind. Upon tendering his resignation, his commanding officer, Colonel Duffries had given him the suit of Nighthawk armor he’d used all through the Amaris Civil War. Ordered to destroy all secret equipment, the unit’s power armor was destined to be melted down. Duffries had reasoned that the Inner Sphere was going to need men like Peter, and he would be able to do much more with the armor than without it. He only cautioned to never let the armed forces of the great lords get their hands on the it. They would just use the technology in it to further multiply the bloodshed and violence they were spiraling towards, and Pete was inclined to agree with him. He told Duffries that he intended to depart Terra for the periphery. Pete had purchased a homestead on Praxton in the Outworlds Alliance through one of the many fake account financed by the SOG. He had access to enough of these covert accounts and false identities, established for the SOG’s counter-terrorism work, that he would have little trouble getting there without drawing attention to himself. He left Terra, skipping from world to world, hitching rides on independent freighters which were always looking for a passenger to bolster the profit of their trips. He’d managed to stay under the radar of the house intelligence services, who would have leaped at the chance to grab a SLDF SOG officer, even more so if they had known of his priceless cargo.

On this last leg of his trip, he was posing as Frank Garrison, salesman for a small agricultural equipment company. It explained the cargo container he was bringing along and his destination of Praxton, a largely agricultural world. He had booked passage aboard the Jupiter, a Danais class tanker dropship that was scheduled to make a delivery of liquid fertilizers, however, a last minute change in market orders had meant the Jupiter was adjusted to deliver a load of water to an in-system orbital asteroid mining station, picking up a load of liquid hydrogen there and delivering that to Praxton. Pumping, cleaning, then refilling the tanks on the dropship was a slow process, leaving Pete stuck on Banori for several nervous, sleepless days. A fact that came to his attention when the bus driver tapped his shoulder and woke him from the sound sleep he’d fallen into on the ride to the starport.

“Son, this is the end of the line. You don’t want to miss your flight, now do you?” the old man asked.

Pete inhaled sharply and faked stifling a yawn to cover his shock at the driver’s choice of words.

“No, I wouldn’t, would I?”

NOTE: The Nighthawk power armor image is not mine and I make no claims to it. Original Illustration by Matt Plog. As far as I can tell, Battletech and everything associated with it are owned by Topps so all rights are reserved by them.

PleasedontsuemeIjustthoughtitwouldbeacooladditiontothestory.