March 21, 2990, Diboll, Federated Suns, Edgeward Combat Theatre, Draconis March
Precentor Atreus, looked about the room.
Well, not exactly the room per-se, but rather the holographic image displaying the full 9 members of the First Circuit. Not just the usual 5 from the House Advocate seats. Primus Takami's reform had added the House Capital world seats beyond the traditional seats of New Earth, Barnard, Alpha C, Bryant, and Procyon. The seats of the Star League's SLCOMNET.
Usually, they would have simply… not shown up, their voices increasingly marginalised in the First Circuit. After all, they didn't have the strength of a House full of HPGs to back them. Tiepolo himself was here because of this reform, Atreus representing the HPGs inside of the Free Worlds League.
But, all were here now.
"You have all reviewed the information that we intercepted on priority dispatch from Diboll. As per protocol, all priority messages are being reviewed for further analysis." Primus Takami spoke, looking tired to Julian's eye.
After the Tirpitz Affair and the destruction of a Black Lion Warship, preventing its deployment in the Inner Sphere, Takami had ridden this success into ignoble failure. Holy Shroud v2 had… at best… middling results. Their agents were discovered even, the results of which were unknown. Was ROM exposed? They hadn't managed to kill the scientists or industrialists. What had happened? Just… overall failure.
It was with this that Primus Takami had coasted during the last few years. The First Circuit were not showing him deterrence and his increasing reformation attempts to bring back strength to the seat of the Primus were blocked from all angles.
Yet, when a priority alert came for a meeting of the First Circuit, all responded. Julian hadn't been present the first time this had happened, with the Tirpitz, but he knew better than to ignore such a message. What if a similar threat was present?
And… now that he had read the report and the analysis passed through to New Avalon? He was wishing he had remained asleep. Here on Atreus, he was enjoying the balmy weather and relaxing his tired body.
This? This was not conducive to that relaxation at all.
"Due to a lack of… knowledge of the deeper mysteries of the universe, I think it is safe to say that MIIO do not comprehend an alternate scenario to that which they have proposed." Precentor Barnard spoke.
"Yes, was it not Primus Sims who was driven insane by her visions of a threat from beyond the Inner Sphere? One made up of beasts who would turn all to ash? From the available documentation… it is clear we have identified the threat. The one the Explorer Corps was created to uncover the location of." Tiepolo spoke, always mild, always showing to all a placid nature. The moderate who did not fall into extremist Blakist tendencies, nor was he a monetarist. The one centrist who others would turn to if they wished to negotiate with the other half of the First Circuit. While he was young (compared to the decrepit ones on the First Circuit now), an image was something that took years to build.
The other heads nodded. The live service having been covered for as a planned outage for emergency maintenance. How else was he running a message all the way from Terra, in real time?
"Yes, visions. Holy Blake came to Primus Sims, and we thought her mad. Yet, has he not reached out and touched this Huu Theburge? The detail is too great, the increased cast of characters over time… he is receiving new information. MIIO, for all they are lesser than ROM, could not identify any contact for this information. I suspect our agents, when they arrive on Diboll will not have better luck." Precentor ROM, Takami's creature, said simply.
The words continued to spill out from the different Precentors, their fervour rising. Blake had granted them a vision of the future, his ghost was still guiding Comstar from beyond the grave. Was there ever any doubt?
All of them eventually agreeing on two points. That there had indeed been a defector of some kind, one that had shown information so traumatising it, altered the mind of one Huu Theburge permanently. The other being that without a contact, the only way he could be receiving new information was through visions. It explained neatly his sheer, utter focus on his cult, even from a young age. Something… or rather, someone was guiding him. And in Tiepolo's personal opinion, Contolism wasn't impossible to reconcile with the Word of Blake.
Yet, the question remained. What to do about the Earth Federation, this debasement of Kerensky's vision. For they had the recordings of his discussions with the Blessed Blake. What could this Federation and Zeon be, but corruptions of that dream?
"The Explorer Corps must be expanded, we must find these threats before they come to us, to conquer Terra for their… Federation." One called out. Precentor Alpha C, his voice measured.
"And what? You've seen the documentation on this Operation British. The continued use of megaton scale nuclear weaponry, biological, and chemical weapons without a thought. The use of a colony sized solar laser to wipe out all life on their so-called Earth. These people have abandoned any kind of rationality. Should we find them now, how can we hope to discuss matters rationally with them?" Precentor Dieron, this time, more urgently than his peer. After all, for though this situation had originated from the Federated Suns… it had originally been the Draconis Combine that the 331st had struck. It was also from where Kerensky's exodus had left the Inner Sphere.
"Or their warships and Mobile Suits. The Successors have focused almost entirely on ground conflicts in the last centuries. These… Federation armies can simply push aside the aerospace defences and drop asteroids on worlds until they are purged of life! What recourse do the Scavenger Lords… our shields have?" Ah, Precentor Tharkad, for the Commonwealth was next door to the Combine … stellarly speaking.
"That's extreme, why would they do that? They aren't aliens. They cannot be entities devoid of empathy, they did sign their Antarctica Treaty, did they not?" Alpha C this time.
"How many people do they have? Kerensky's fleet was large, yes. But we must ask ourselves… after their wars of annihilation against themselves, something I fully expect to have continued past this… how many are left… and how willing will they be to undertake genocide to make up for their numerical weakness?" The Primus finally said. Looking exhausted.
The room fell into silence… he had an extremely strong point. After centuries apart, fighting their own apocalyptic wars… what rationality was left, could they trust in it?
"This report is about the time they call U.C 79. Perhaps it is when they first established their colonies? Hundreds of years have passed then, what is their technology like now without Comstar to ensure the survival of mankind?" Tiepolo spoke up, his voice calm… measured.
Again, appalled silence. What if there had been no Holy Shroud? What horrors would they have gotten up to?
"We need a course of action. But it cannot be rushed. We have, I see, two options. Attempt to find them ourselves and seek diplomatic options. Or to alert the other Successor States of this problem so that they might begin preparations in the event this Earth Federation does return." Takami's voice was defeated, and for good reason. Had he not spearheaded the Tirpitz Affair, Holy Shroud 2? Now, with the threat of the Federation… would his actions be now… self defeat instead of triumphant victory? His botched Holy Shroud, the providence of Blake?
Would they now need to release technology to the Inner Sphere, to allow their scientists to develop? Defeating all they had done in the last century?
Yes, Takami would be a broken Primus by the end of this. Julian would need to find a new benefactor if he wished to rise further… to the seat of Primus even.
Precentor Sian finally added his two C-Bills to the conversation. "Brothers, Sisters. If we are to think about this rationally, we must consider the facts as we have them, and discuss this rationally. I have been in discussion with Precentor ROM, Precentor New Avalon, and Barnard regarding the information. We have come to several conclusions that should be able to guide our path going forward." Julian listened intently, Sian was the biggest threat to his future position. The man was… in simple terms, moderate. Like Julian himself. There could only be one Primus and Sian was his biggest rival for the seat.
Interjecting now with his conclusions, after the others had wasted time panicking? What a way to endear yourself to the First Circuit, Julian thought with agitation. Why hadn't he done the same?
"First, the worlds that Kerensky decided to settle in are planet-poor. This can be the only explanation as to why the SLDF decided to break with Star League Doctrine and instead of colonising planets for future use, decided instead to build resource intensive zero-gravity installations. Much like those the Belters in the Terran System use. They must have only been used as a last resort measure." The other first circuit Precentors nodded at this.
"Second, this split was not an amicable one. These references to the Republic of Zeon and then the Principality of Zeon are contrasted to the Earth Federation. These two are always mentioned in opposition, the latter as the oppressor of the former. Until, that is, we switch to the Principality of Zeon and the Principality becomes the aggressor in the conflict. Suffice to say, we believe it likely that the SLDF splintered following settlement and re-enacted the Reunification Wars. The stronger, perhaps more influential units settled worlds, while the rest were forced to build orbital colonies and were used to mine resources. This resentment led to a rebellion, and then an invasion." Again they nodded.
This was indeed something of a concern… if the Federation and Zeon were reenacting the past again and again, what did that say about the lengths they would go to for victory? It was a problem that needed to be investigated.
"Third, the move of the battlefield from planetside to space infrastructure has led to the construction of these Mobile Suits to fit the new combat situation. Specifically, in a warship rich environment, standard armour is not considered useful when naval weapons can destroy a Battlemech or ASF is a single strike. The SLDF over time have clearly solved the issue of Naval weaponry being less than capable of targeting small craft under 200 tons. Abandoning the Battlemech/ASF paradigm, Zeon and then the Federation developed Mobile Suits which combines the acceleration and agility of an ASF in space, with the articulation of a Battlemech. While slower than an ASF, and mounts less weaponry and armour than a Battlemech. It is capable of dodging inbound weapons fire, and carrying its own naval-grade weapons to engage and destroy warships. This is a new paradigm of warfare that we are singularly oblivious to. Warship combat has not been a concern in the Inner Sphere for centuries, after all." Julian felt his brows crease almost unconsciously. Yes, it may be possible to release technology to the scavenger states… but would it be enough in the unknown time they had left? Would they be able to innovate themselves out of this trap?
"Fourth, the existence of Huu Theburge indicates that there are those from the Federation or Zeon that remember the Inner sphere and have been exiling themselves or being exiled. These individuals have a singularly unique perspective that can be of assistance to use in the Holy Order… and the Successor States if we choose to provide their locations once uncovered. It should be our top priority to locate them to aid our preparations against the Federation or Zeon, or their own successors. The existence of the Minnesota tribe, is proof enough that there are groups being forced out, groups we can make contact with… possibly discuss mutual cooperation against the SLDF threat."
Ah yes, yet further destruction of Blake's vision. Yet… what options did they have in this rapidly changing situation? Could they stay true to Blake's vision and defeat this SLDF?
"Fifth, given the timeline given UC 79, the technological progression from what we can identify as the Zaku 1 to the Zeong, a difference of 17.5 metres tall to 35 metres tall, with vastly different capabilities. While this vastly accelerated pace of development is likely to be out of the norm, the constant conflicts we project as normal have likely led to the development of machines that far outpace those we are currently capable of identifying. Our projected defensive plans must take this technological progression into account. Dropship scale Battlemechs as an example. The Comguard must be trained to meet this new threat." A shiver ran through all the Precentors. While there had been no actual footage, the illustration of what the Zeong could do… coring 5 warships from each of its fingers at the same time… well, that worried them all greatly.
"Sixth, the existence of Newtypes as preached by Huu Theburge have been, if we believe the writings and illustrations, confirmed as fact. The Elmeth and Zeong have been identified by Theburge as containing Newtype pilots. In the time since, there must have been an increase in the Newtype population and represents a grave threat to the Order. We must identify our own from amongst the Belter populations or other space-faring human peoples to recruit our own Newtypes. Should a telepathic, as Huu identifies them, enters a HPG, they could learn all our secrets without us even knowing of it." The horror of revelation after revelation had bitten deep. Julian was barely holding back the sensation of drowning as Sian stepped in front of him. One more roadblock to his path forward.
"Seventh, and finally, the fact that Primus Sims' visions were confirmed as fact should be our largest priority. Identifying similarly predisposed individuals should be our largest concern. They will prove to be our biggest advantage over the Federation or Zeon should they arrive. Being able to identify their material advantages and building a counter should be our largest focus going forward." Which would go over extremely well, Julian could tell. The laymen of the order were already incredibly excited by Primus Sim's visions, that the Order was attempting to find more like her? It would be like setting the hens in the hen house on fire, so great would their excitement be.
"As a sidenote, Precentor ROM has made it a priority to protect Huu Theburge. He is our one line to the corrupted SLDF. We must protect him from the Successor States. While the First Circuit decides on a course of action regarding these revelations."
…
While the room was quiet, costing millions in C-Bills for every second the live transmission ran. Precentor New Earth added one final comment. "This Contolism. It may sway many of the faithful… and the Belters with its message. We should be prepared for this."
A loud sigh echoed.
"How many bloody problems can one person cause? It is not his fault of course, we should be glad that this information has been made available. We must deliberate independently... before coming together to discuss our path going forward." Said Primus Takami, before issuing the closing statement. All would be travelling to Terra for an in-depth discussion, it seemed.
Galaxy shaking discussions should be had in-person.
Tiepolo, after 2 hours of sleep, dragged his hand down his face. He just needed some damned sleep.
+Break+
March 29, 2990, Diboll, Federated Suns, Edgeward Combat Theatre, Draconis March
"Let us begin the meeting, the Word of Zeon for today comes from Daily Recordings of the Prophet; blessed are those who's souls are free from gravity. For they shall know eternal life."
The room was quiet.
12 individuals were stood inside, each a member of the Contolist inner circle. They came from all walks of life here on Diboll and beyond. Of different class, of origin, of employment… of… national employer. All were unified by their belief in the prophet. Or so was the hope.
"I have spoken to the prophet about a defence force to protect Diboll, but most importantly, himself from those that would seek to harm him, or kidnap him for their own ends. He has tentatively agreed, if and only if the rules of engagement prohibit the firing of the first shot." Henriette spoke to the gathered group as they sat in their ring of chairs. Faces blank, to not give anything away.
"Ah, you spoke to the reincarnator. It is a good thing that you did. I uncovered his old publications for what he calls the RB-79 Ball. An industrial space craft that can also be converted into a weapons platform." Tommy Tukio, owner of an ICE car manufacturing plant here on Diboll.
Another of the Inner Circle, and in the opinion of Henriette, utterly pants on head stupid. The Prophet was just that, a prophet. Reincarnator? Clearly he had been dropped on his head as a child. He was likely a creature that was here because Contolism offered him an opportunity to grow his business into Mobile suits. His focus on production, not, when they had not even left the planet yet? Disgusting. Did he even believe, or was this some kind of ploy to make more money?
"Your dedication to research of the great transmigrator is admirable, Tommy. Have you considered, however… the fact that we do not, in fact, have orbital infrastructure? Contolism speaks of a need to reach for the stars. Did not the great transmigrator say "living on a planet is a weight upon the soul" on Haynesville in 2988? Yet, for this to happen, the great transmigrator also said, "our path to the stars must be taken one step at a time. To do otherwise is a waste, and waste is a sin," in Discourse of Space Colonies and Evolution. Before we begin the process of constructing these hypothetical vehicles, it would be more appropriate for us to reach the stars to begin with." Ahmad Bruce, another idiot who believed that the great prophet was a transmigrator. Always reading his words, always quoting them as if that were the only thing worth saying. Did he not understand that the prophet was a living being? One whos doctrine would change over time, not remain static, not remaining in a singular place like a dead book.
What an idiot, but he was supporting her against the stupid, and thus was acceptable… for now.
"Yes, we can't build orbital equipment yet. We currently do not have the funding. Remember, the prophet emphasises that to reach the stars, we must use our own hands. We cannot be reliant on the charity of others, for it may be removed at any time." Henriette pointed out, making sure that Tommy could see her warning.
He grumbled for a moment, before to her right a fourth voice added its opinion.
Aiden Gordon, Precentor Diboll, in charge of the HPG on planet, was an early convert. The one who had gathered them in the first place, actually. Looking on the online forums, checking those who were the most receptive to the words of Contolism, and bringing them together for their first meeting in 2985, on Bryceland. Five years ago now, the first meeting of the Contolist believers society.
Five years on and their numbers had expanded, all were here because they believed in the prophet, in Contolism, and were willing to do anything they could to expand its reach.
"While I am not in a position to speak on the situation of orbital assets, I do have news of aid to the Contolist cause. The First Circuit has identified the value of the great seer. ROM agents are being dispatched to ensure the safety of the seer. Assets are also being dispatched to ensure agents outside of Diboll cannot harm the great Seer." Her great ally in these meetings once again saved the meeting from descending into an argument by her intellectual lessers.
"That is good news. We should consider further issues going forward. Specifically, the fact that the first step of Contolism has been reached. With the new fusion reactors. We are now able to take the first steps to establish our own independent orbital infrastructure. The Prophet has shown me plans for future technological development, he has opened our path to the stars!" Henriette said, a wide grin on her face. For was this not what the prophet had said would happen? His words were coming true! The words of the prophet always contained a grain of truth, of foreknowledge, or past knowledge. One merely needed to be able to interpret it.
"Indeed, we are moving into the stars above. And soon, we shall become Newtypes ourselves. Able to transcend our mortal forms and join the Blessed Jerome Blake in the holy land. I shall marshal the resources that I can to ensure the process is as smooth as possible. The negotiations for materials needed from off-world are proceeding without concern. A steady supply should be arriving within the week, until it becomes independent." Gordon continued to speak in his role as both Precentor and believer. Henriette held her tongue regarding his mixing of Blakism and Contolism. There was mild incompatibility with the two beliefs… and yet, she couldn't help but consider it blasphemous.
"On the opposing side of this discussion, I have not been able to keep MIIO and DMI from the situation. I don't know how they became aware of the reincarnator, but I can no longer influence off-world investigations. We will need to deal with MIIO investigators onsite, worse, they are infiltrating the wider cult. Our meetings must now be hidden, lest we come to official attention." Countess Lucrezia Markworth-Davion added her own two cents and Henrietta resisted the urge to glare. Closer to the prophet's age than herself, the snake had been trying to get closer to the prophet. Disgusting. To think, she even thought of him as a reincarnator. Filthy creature, daring to even attempt to sully his presence with her… existence.
Worse. It was likely she never even truly believed in Contolism. Rather, Contolism was a way for her to increase Diboll's and thus, her influence. After all, the Countess ruled Diboll and colonies meant an expansion of people, infrastructure, and industry. What a cold hearted creature, one who was not a true believer. Why else was she afraid of MIIO attention? She, herself? No, she welcomed MIIO with open arms, for what did she have to hide?
Yet… they needed Lucrezia if they wished to develop in this system without official complications. Henriette hated that she could not just… excommunicate this creature before her eyes.
"I am pleased to note that the HPG station is open for future meetings. I have convinced the First Circuit I am a mole, infiltrating the cult that the individual they are interested in created. Our meetings, thus, even with ROM's agents arriving, will continue to be confidential. This, I can assure you." Aiden smiled, full of confidence.
"As the transmigrator has written. 'The path forward will be treacherous, but we have the light of Contolism to guide us.' page 92, Contolism and our neighbours. Difficulty lies ahead, but our success is assured." Ahmad added his two C-Bills. A librarian by trade, his private library, passed down through generation, after generation, was the largest on Diboll. Having had it moved from Tancredi IV to be closer to the prophet.
Also, uselessly adding words in to prove he had read the prophet's works. What a waste of their time.
As the meeting continued, Henriette ensured her thoughts never reached her face. While these non-believers and fools were threats to the prophet… they were necessary to ensure his dream reached fruition.
Yet… she would be watching.
She did not trust them at all.
+Break+
April 29, 2990, New Avalon, Federated Suns, Coreward Combat Theatre, Crucis March
Andrew Davion, First Prince of the Federated Suns, studied the plans before him.
At their side was a series of written papers detailing the metallurgical processes required to produce the machine, to the computers that were necessary, to the coding that went into these new computers. It was, in short, a complete written process to design an Industrial… Mobile Suit from scratch. One that could be adapted to multiple different roles in short order. Especially given all of its specifications and processes were being published.
While Huu Theburge held the rights to the design, and all resulting designs based on his process… it wasn't comprehensive enough to prevent further creations, based on said design, from being made. It was as if he wanted this design spread far and wide.
As an example. He could link the publications, and Norse BattleMech Works could make their own if they so desired.
It was joined, with further schematics for a… dropship.
While many called dropships eggs, this very well could be such a vessel. A fusion reactor, thrusters, a crew compartment, and storage bay. No consideration at all for long term travel, instead it was designed to get things into space quickly. A shuttle would be a more appropriate term for it. Armour so thin that simple autocannon fire would penetrate and destroy it. Fragile beyond all belief.
The young man, still a militia recruit at that, was laying the groundwork for a truly comprehensive industrial expansion. No base was uncovered, save, perhaps, for bodies to crew all of this. Further, it was firmly a civilian expansion. Did he truly hate war so much? If so, why had he volunteered for militia service?
He had put in a truly enormous amount of work, hadn't he? The Federated Sun's little genius was going to change the Inner Sphere. In doing so, he would provide the means by which the Davions could break the back of the Mech Cabals once and for all. And for that… he was willing to provide all the support this Huu Theburge needed.
Service to the realm deserved rewards commensurate with their worth, after all.
Yet… why Diboll of all places? It was within raiding distance, next to the Outworlds Alliance… and within pirate range. Why was he there, when he could be anywhere else? The question needed to be asked.
"My Prince. What should we do about the research papers that Theburge has submitted for publication?" Ah, yes.
As the First Prince, he was also head of MIIO, and the DMI, and the AFFS. In simple terms, the glory of the realm were his glories, the failures of the realm were his failures. All responsibility started and ended with him. And for realm shaking decisions such as this… well, the decision would be passed up to him for review and to sign off upon.
MIIO was recommending allowing the old submissions to be published, the new ones to be kept confidential. As it was, his older submissions were in review… waiting for his go ahead lest they be slapped with a classified label. The public musings on social media, however, were for all to see, and the other Houses were interested in what was available. If the papers weren't published, they ran the very real risk that the other houses would be unsatisfied with what was available and… take extreme measures.
DMI, focused on external threats, had warned of greatly increased attention by other agencies and thus their House Lords. MI2 recommending the papers be published in the public domain, lest agents from the other houses attempt to kill or kidnap their egg laying golden goose. If they were public, all would be invested in keeping their goose alive. Keeping others from harming him, a Star League in one person, you could say.
Yet if he did that, then the other houses would gain access to this technology. This industry, this expansion.
Could he afford to do that? What about Huu? How would he feel about all this?
He was vexed and so turned to his trusted advisor in matters of deadlock.
"Hanse. Say someone has written some really powerful stories. And they want people to read them. But the stories can hurt people if everyone can read them. Should I stop people from reading the stories?" He asked his son, still a child, still innocent of the ways of the world.
"Yes. Bad stories make people hurt, stopping the stories is best…" The boy paused, as if thinking.
Andrew didn't say anything, just waited. He would speak in his own time.
"But if I'm the writer… I would be really angry."
Ah. Rubbing Hanse' hair, Andrew thought that the words of babes indeed cut into the heart of the matter.
It would be for the good of the realm, yes. But it would anger their cult leader dramatically if the submissions were blocked, wouldn't it? After all, this was not merely a scientist he could convince to keep quiet for the good of the realm… this was a cult leader, one who wanted his message spread. And really, cutting off the relationship this early, when he hadn't even begun to go deep into the technological rabbit hole that was the SLDF exiles.
It would be best to… placate him until he delivered those technological innovations that were required to drive back the maddened exiles. To think they had fallen so low. The Lone Star cult… religion will be feeling particularly disappointed once they find out.
"Allow the publication to go ahead. Tell MIIO that it is necessary unless we want to station 5 Regiments on Diboll to ward off assassins."
The aide saluted and strode out, Andrew leaning back on his chair.
Yes, the First Prince has a great deal of power… but that power came with administrative work in spades. No Davion Prince had ever died old, and he was feeling that now.
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Tamarind
Sep 8, 2022
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Tamarind
Sep 9, 2022
#532
Beta-ed by Praetor98, thanks for the help!
June 13, 2990, Diboll, Federated Suns, Edgeward Combat Theatre, Draconis March
Huu sat at his desk inside the barracks. He was still a recruit after all. A reserve-officer perhaps… but still a recruit.
Before him was a handwritten title, Mobile Suits and Warfare.
With the Leo factory being a week away from completion, it's incredibly simple nature allowed the process to continue without a hitch. A contrast to the many different commercial ventures he had seen in all three of his lives now that he thought about it.
Like that one road where they constantly dug it out, rebuilt it, dug it out, and rebuilt it… the same sections, every time.
His mind was wandering again, as it did when he did not know what he wished to write.
Doctrine was the focus, and yet he couldn't marshal his thoughts at all.
Doctrine was important. Why? Because doctrine informed how one fought, how one trained, how one considered tactical and strategic problems, how one resupplied, how one procured weapons, how one procured recruits.
In short, doctrine decided quite literally everything about a military force.
This, therefore, was a written work that would decide the Contolist Defence Militia of Diboll. From pen to paper, the lives of thousands, millions, would be affected.
And he knew one wrong phrase could end the lives of everyone who trusted him with this task. The Lieutenant Commander in him (for all of the two weeks he had held the position) demanded he simply put down his experiences on paper. The war was filled with useful practical experiences after all.
The realist, the one that had been immersed in military history in his first life, told the first voice to be silent.
After all… Zeon had lost the war. He hadn't seen the end, but how could they have won? Pushed all the way back to the Sides… how could they have won?
The first voice fell silent while the second continued to speak.
One must design doctrine in the face of the enemy they will fight, not the enemy they wish to fight. For doctrine does not involve solely the military, but also political objectives and thus involves politicians. Economics of procurement and manufacturing, and thus industry. Doctrine was not a solely military concern as the Lieutenant Commander thought, but a reflection of the nation.
For if one desired a vast army with simple machines, conscripts would be the logical choice. Was not conscription a national issue with political, economic, and social consequences?
If one wished for a highly technologically focused military, then highly education soldiers were the logical choice. Would not then education become a focus, and how to draw volunteers become a national concern?
It was understood then that everything he wrote here would have enormous consequences.
And yet he understood doctrine was meant to be written regarding the enemy they would face. What enemy was that? Was it the Draconis Combine, in the words of the extremely limited education system he had been exposed to in this third life?
Could he trust the education system he had been brought up with in this reality?
It was a commonly held belief in this realm, after all, that women were unable to pilot this universe's Mobile Suits, their Battlemechs, due to neurological incompatibility. Something slowly reversing by 2467 after a hundred years. What kind of backwards people were they? Higher education, here in the border worlds came from travelling 'vagabond schools' of jumpships. Where only the most promising few hundred were able to get an education, all else… barely able to read and write at times. Illiteracy, here on Diboll was the norm, not the exception.
It was but one reason why he had volunteered for the military. For soldiers were able to receive further education, especially out here in the hinterlands of this new land he called home. An education that included the focus on history and science. Out of his reach if he had remained a civilian. A member of the ROTC due to a 'lack' of money, he would serve as a reserve officer with the local planetary militia.
The indoctrination that came with it, he was able to subsume into Contolism. For a duty to the people of the Suns over all… was that not subservient to a duty to the people of the galaxy overall? He was already firmly on this path, military education merely added to his conviction. Allowed him to understand these new people of his, this new nation he had been born into.
These people, he had discovered, were not fools, just misguided. Due more to a lack of resources, than their own stupidity. He empathised with them. It was not their fault, that they had spent centuries scrounging for resources, in much the same way that he and his people had to in Zeon. These were his people, for all that they were planet-bound, and he would save them.
Which…
Really.
That answered his question, didn't it?
What was the great enemy that he sought to fight with his new Contolist Defence Force doctrine? Ignorance, poverty, social stasis and a lack of confidence.
These were his enemies. Yes. That would serve as his doctrine. For it would serve, in turn, his primary purpose in life. The spread of Contolism. For an educated people were needed if one wished to live in orbital habitats.
A prosperous people were needed if they wished to build the habitats in the first place.
A people lacking social mobility would flock to the doors that granted it to them.
A people lacking confidence in their own capabilities, their own potential, would find it granted through educated competence.
In doing so, he would strike at a dozen different RGM-79s with… no. He couldn't think like that. Thinking like that led to his failure. To the destruction of Zeon's dream.
His eyes narrowed. He was always on guard against himself. Never again could he allow himself to act as if his thoughts did not have consequence.
A doctrine that demanded intelligent, well educated people had to create them. Education was the key to social mobility, for it provided expertise and skills.
He would then be able to train these people in the understanding of hydraulic systems. While also providing them with enough work opportunities that they would join willingly.
In doing so, a virtuous cycle would be created, people would join to receive an education heavily focused on his machines. They would then seek work with said machines when they served their term. Increasing demand for Mobile Suits overall. Mobile Suits would spread, and a people trained in their operation and maintenance would increase the militia's size… the cycle repeating. Again and again until the skies were full of colonies.
What made matters even better was that the Leo, at 7 tons… in this age with these weapons would be utterly useless. With its titanium armour, steel-alloy core, and fragile reactor… who would consider putting them on the front line? Why would anyone even think it was a rational choice?
Even better, the spread of his research into the Inner Sphere, meant more Mobile Suits, more people, more converts to Contolism as the benefits of living in space became evident.
But they would be used for war. Did MOBILE not stand for Manipulative Order Build and Industrial Labour? Designed for industrial use, they were soon equipped with weapons and deployed en-mass. The information blurb as he developed his technological tree had explained more and more of the history of Wing. And the story played itself out again.
Just like with Zeon and the Federation.
Just like the Colony Autonomy Organisation and the United Earth Sphere Alliance.
Just like the states of this hellscape reality and the Terran Alliance, then the Terran Hegemony, then the Star League.
The story repeated itself over and over. A hegemonic force that oppresses those that seek independence in space. The planet-bound being the aggressor, the initiator of conflict, and the colonies escalating it. It could even be said that the colonies being weak had led to this. If they had been equal, would there have been such belligerence, such a desire to exploit them?
If Zeon had been on par with the Earth Federation… would matters have escalated as they did?
The same questions circled his mind, again and again.
There would be more weapons developed, they would be weapons based on Mobile Suits he developed. He would have a direct hand in these, his hands would be stained with the blood they spilt.
But… it would allow for further infrastructure to be laid down, a population increasingly responsive to Contolism.
Was it worth it? This galaxy was one where war was a constant, never-ending reality. His designs would be converted to weapons of war, that he understood. A small part of him, the part he forever sought to deny in this life, quivered with excitement at the thought. The rest of him suppressed such thoughts with all their being.
Yet, and there was a singular fact which, that allowed him to proceed with this course of action.
Jumpships.
Their scarcity, and the dropship shortage… they ensured it was likely indeed that these Mobile Suits would be useless in an offensive action. He could provide the technology, but what use would they get out of them? Purely defensive assets, that would, in turn prevent war to begin with. If an offence was too expensive, then was it not normal to avoid it altogether? The war would slide into a stalemate, and the stalemate would result in peace.
This utter lack of offensive capability with their anaemic transport capabilities? His so called weapons of war… would only be able to defend and nothing else! For, why would you take many Leos… when a single Enforcer could kill them all with two shots each?
Yes, the System truly believed in him for it to assist to this extent. Even the weapons it provided were to the aim of Contolism, of providing peace, of uplifting mankind to the stars.
The System was indeed a friend he could trust when he went forth in the name of Zeon.
One more step on the path to Contolism. One more step in the path that would, in turn, lead to all of mankind transcending their mortal forms. All these billions of people being able to find peace, just as Zeon had spoken of.
And so would he.
He would find redemption for his crimes.
But before that, he would need to write his doctrine.
+Break+
June 20, 2990, Diboll, Federated Suns, Edgeward Combat Theatre, Draconis March
Looking at the seer before her, ROM agent Joan Smith smiled.
Her orders were simple.
To protect the subject, Huu Theburge.
To help proliferate the subject's writings and thoughts.
To ensure that, the subject was well cared for and to ensure the subject's mental and physical health.
Adept III Joan Smith, Beta-Kappa-Rho, or in Star League English, Scientific Analysis-Medical-Intelligence-Gathering. Was… well, in her opinion, overqualified for the role. Not that she would say it out loud of course, Omicron or Psi agents would… recondition her if she made her displeasure with her assignment known.
Yet, in her heart of hearts, this was what she firmly believed.
The key word being 'believed'.
The last month, having been assigned to his 'squad' in the ROTC, she had spent her time listening to him preach. Listening to his theories on human nature, on the eventual fate of mankind.
She had read his works, published and unpublished regarding the future of the human race. The scientific papers that would revolutionise the Inner Sphere… if they had experimental data to back them up.
In the course of time, she had become a believer.
Contolism and Blakeism… were they so different from one another?
Was not Salvation 4:61-70 clear on this?
I believe a day will come when the fighting ends and we can emerge as the saviours… The victories will come for us one world at a time - then one House at a time - until we control everything. Mankind will not resist but will invite us to help rebuild, as we have done with blessed Terra.
The threat of the returned heirs to Kerensky was so strong that Comstar would take a large role in this new future.
To rebuild, to be welcomed in as saviours. The seer, Huu Theburge was bringing forth Comstar's prophecies one by one.
Yet that was not the end of it. He was, with his own hands, uplifting billions from poverty with his innovations, his freely provided technological knowledge.
Joan wished she could pay her respects, and yet… her early disbelief was what had drawn him to her. Someone willing to disagree with him, to challenge his points of view, to be a proper dissenting opinion had itself been incredibly valuable to his mental health. Not being surrounded by believers had assured him rather than hurt him. So much so that even though she was now a believer she could not change. Lest he pay her less attention, and in doing so send him further towards insanity.
Further, if he were less willing to communicate with her, how would she protect him, the greatest seer since Blake himself?
The answer was that she couldn't… and so she was stuck, playing a role that she didn't even believe in anymore! Yet it was better than Henriette or Lucrezia… both of which would glare dirks and daggers at her as she absorbed the great seer's time and attention. Both stuck being treated as annoying hangers on.
It served them right for being so… sycophantic.
It was why she was here now, challenging him yet again on his writings, his opinions.
"If you believe in peace, and the entire point of Contolism is to seek peace in the stars. Why do you serve in the military… and why have you advocated for the creation of a militia?" She asked, as the both of them looked on in wonder as the first Leo Mobile Suits marched off the production line.
Compared to even a Locust, the gravity of their steps was lacking. At 7 tons, it was lighter than most vehicles even.
Yet, she could see the value in them now, at 7 tons, the materials that went into producing one was miniscule. This had taken a single day to assemble from created parts, themselves taking less than a week to build from scratch as the factory came together section by section. Once it was fully operational, the crew would be able to build one a day. All of it by hand, the only automation being the machining of parts.
So simple that the people of Diboll could, with their limited education, could build them with their own two hands.
This particular Leo, the very first, would be used to assist the construction of another factory, building and building.
Yet she couldn't praise his work, for that would be contrary to the image she had created of herself.
"Pacifism is the firm belief you will not fight, that all conflict should be resolved peacefully. Yet, if someone truly wishes to take what is yours… others will fight, and die for you. Such is this society. Pacifism only exists because others are willing to die to make it possible. I refuse this, completely, utterly. Others will not die for me. The militia… the defence force, exists to prove my conviction on this matter." His voice was cold, his determination clear.
Joan was struck with the certain knowledge of just how many had indeed, died, for him. If he knew, he would be heartbroken.
ROM, MIIO, DMI, ISF, and more had deployed assets onto Diboll. All were interested in keeping the flow of information alive… but more than that, keeping the other intelligence agencies honest. Many indeed that sought to harm him to deny the Inner Sphere this knowledge had died.
Many of them the unenlightened from her own ROM. From MIIO, from the ISF, Maskirovka.
Some Precentors had retired from public life, as if they ceased to exist. Others had taken sabbaticals. Certain nobles across the Inner Sphere, intent on kidnapping such a valuable source of knowledge had disappeared in a similar manner.
The Inner Sphere was working to keep him safe and alive. The consequences of that were the deaths of a great number of people.
Joan had vowed never to share that knowledge with him; it would destroy his precarious mental health. Something Comstar analysts had identified as being tenuous already. A single minded fixation on a nigh-impossible goal. Would he kill himself in the pursuit of the goal?
The risk was too high and she would do anything to maintain his sanity.
+Break+
August 01, 2990, Diboll, Federated Suns, Edgeward Combat Theatre, Draconis March
Treize Khushrenada, once Colonel Treize of OZ, then the leader of the Romefeller Foundation, found himself marveling at the sheer incongruity of the universe.
Waking as a child to find himself in a universe where people made war on a constant basis, he had thought he had found his dream, his heaven.
And yet, instead, he found Romefeller writ large.
Strong opponents were required for mankind to develop. Conflict was at the core of mankind's evolution.
First with shelter; mankind fought with the very earth to build homes.
Second with warmth; mankind had wrestled with trees and lightning to kindle the first flame.
From the very earliest stages of mankind's evolution, there has been never-ending conflict. Conflict was what drove mankind yet higher and higher as problems were identified, and solutions created.
Here? In this hell?
Where there had been conflict for centuries and mankind had not advanced, had not developed, but instead degraded?
How… sorrowful. It hurt his heart to see.
Yet when he had seen the Leo again on the holovid, he thought to himself, perhaps… perhaps he was not alone.
And so Treize Khushrenada had brought his new family and his own Battlemech to Diboll. A knight of his skill being so long without a steed? Impossible. This he had liberated from a Combine pilot with ease, it was not as if the man knew what honour was, or how to fight. Disgustingly easy, a soldier of OZ would never had died with such ignominy.
Treize was struck again at how… bad these people were at war. Where was their chivalry? Their need to innovate in the face of difficulty?
But perhaps it wasn't their fault. Someone was ensuring that there was no victor. He could smell the Foundation all over this, or something like them. Because here there was no Foundation, but someone was indeed pushing the nations into an endless stagnating conflict. Whether to make money or something else, Treize did not care. They were enemies of mankind. Even the Romefellers did not go so far as to ensure mankind degraded, instead of advanced.
He had hoped for some kind of recognition at the sight of Huu Theburge's face, but he felt nothing. Not one of his, not one of those that he had killed either.
Someone new, someone who preached Contolism… something he had also never heard of. It wasn't a bad theory either.
He could see its value.
Not very confrontational perhaps, but this new Contolism Defence Force… well, they sought for soldiers and leaders. Given he was likely the only one besides this Huu to know how a Leo's computer system worked?
Treize would have his Specials again. A new starting point, with someone pushing mankind forth, and carry the torch into the darkness ahead. For such an individual… being divisive was only natural. There would be war soon enough, and he would be in a position to see mankind once again move forth.
And if the Inner Sphere, as they called it, needed a little push to get back on the tracks? He would do that as well. Mankind needed to evolve, and the last 300 years? He could only feel sorrow for how it betrayed the truest principles of humanity.
Once again, he had a purpose.
If only Lady Une and Zechs were there at his side. How he yearned for their companionship.
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Threadmarks 006. Huu Programs, Treize makes a Friend New
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#633
August 13, 2990, Diboll, Federated Suns, Edgeward Combat Theatre, Draconis March, Bryceland PDZ
Huu sat in the cockpit of a Leo.
One of the Leos, it didn't matter which.
The feeling of it was nostalgic, the switches, the control interfaces. Different from the Zaku and the Gelgoog, the lack of a thruster-mass counter being one, yet it was familiar enough for him to feel at home.
His fingers danced over the fold-out keyboard. Programming in different movements, mapped to different activation sequences. For all the magical ways in which a Mobile Suit could dance, all of it started here. In the cockpit, programming the smallest amount of thrust mass possible for each movement. Actually, no, this was on-planet... no thruster mass necessary. Arms movements, legs, chest. All of it had to be programmed and customised.
For it was like a human body. When one moved, one automatically countered that movement to prevent oneself from toppling over. By the same token, so too did movements have to be countered by shifting mass to prevent an overbalancing or collapse. Hundreds of small actions throughout the machine's hydraulic systems for a single motion.
Was it any wonder that many pilots simply copied what was readily available and not innovate… develop on their own?
To be a pilot, one was not merely some kind of warrior as it may be with a Battlemech (Huu had no idea, were they just warrior-barbarians? None of them wore proper clothes). No, to be a great pilot one also needed to be a programmer of incredible skill. As simplified as the process was, it still required one to be able to hold thoughts in sequence, to process cause and effect without physical visualisation, to visualise written instructions with physical movements.
Each Mobile Suit, ideally should be unique, for in having a standardised set of movements, they would, in turn, have a standardised set of weaknesses. It was why, in simple terms, the Gundam… the White Devil had slaughtered so many of his comrades. A programmer of superlative skill in a machine of superlative capability with a pilot of superlative physical and mental strength.
Each movement programmed to bring death to the standardised masses.
Huu was mediocre, this he could admit to himself. Even in this new reality, there were those that picked up on the process and already outstripped him. Had demonstrated skills faster and greater than he could, even after his time in the war. This Treize Khushrenada… appearing for a job interview and demonstrating superlative skill with the Leo. Someone that had read his written papers on Mobile Suit Computer Programming. Then applied them through sheer willpower and practice, if his familiarity with the system was any indication.
Others may think of this as improbable, but he had heard of Lalah, of Amuro… was another savant so hard to comprehend? Treize was even at the same age he had started training. So many of those he had served alongside had been that age, Zeon tapping into its future potential for their war of annihilation. Was there anyone left by the end he wondered. Trainees being sent out into the field to bulk up defending units as A Baoa Qu… had it left Zeon with no future at all? Still, Treize was of the same age, a technological savant who wore blue and white. A teenager with a sense of style that even Huu could agree was certainly… as the kids called it… flash.
Of exactly the same age as those savants in his previous life, at least… it was likely. Information was rather sparse of course, both were newtypes, both were too important to allow all to know of their details. Of course there was also the rumours of the Living Dead Division with their own child geniuses who fought on par with Gundams. Or the ones on Earth with their MIA test pilot. In short, child geniuses were so common that Huu hadn't even questioned it.
In any case, Huu concentrated on the programming. This particular machine was to serve in an agricultural role. It stood to reason, therefore, that he needed to program it to hoe, till… and other farm things he had no idea what to name. The visual illustrations he had been shown by some of the illiterate farmers didn't have names after all.
Really, one might ask why this was a priority. The answer being rather simple, without food, there could be no civilisation. With actual machines to handle food, when the majority of people on this world, and many other worlds in the Suns had at best a donkey or a horse for personal transportation and use. Skid Row Worlds as they called them, constantly at threat, constantly suffering from blockades and shortages. Hence, why this was a priority.
People could not learn until their basic needs were met. Food, shelter, warmth and community.
For these farmers he would program the movements in, demonstrate them (with the appropriate tool) in an empty field. The farmers would give their feedback, and he would modify the programming until it was perfect. When it was done, the motions would be clearly labelled with images to make it as simple as possible to use… at least until it came time to repair them.
It was why education was so vital in Mobile Suit design. Programmers, designers, mechanics, maintenance, all were necessary for a Mobile Suit to reach its true potential. All would play a part in mankind rise. To bring the dream of Contolism ever closer. Even if it was far off in the future, the steps he was taking… they were slowly bringing him to the promised land.
One step at a time.
"Huu! You've been in there for hours already. It's not going to get better if you keep editing the same code over and over. Come on out so we can find something fun!" Treize's voice echoed in the confines of the Leo's cockpit. The hatch was closed, the sound having no place to escape. The direct hardline for infantry to communicate directly to the pilot inside a suit was also a nuisance outside of combat.
Pressing the speaker-active button, Huu leaned forward slightly. "I'm currently busy Colonel Khushrenada, as should you be. We're currently the only two qualified Mobile Suit programmers in existence." His voice blasted out the Leo's loudspeakers, set for… tolerable levels, lest it explode the ears of those too close.
"And as the two only programmers, we can set our hours. You need to lighten up a little! I heard you haven't even had a birthday party! You're 18 now, you are legally allowed to drink, so let's drink!" The persistent Treize came back at him. Ever since he had arrived on planet two weeks ago, had signed up for the Contolist Defence Force… and had become its defacto leader despite his youth… he had been badgering Huu about abandoning his duties and… relaxing.
He couldn't relax! He had work to accomplish, Contolism required this of him. Zeon required this of him. His conscience required this of him!
"And we have weeks, years, decades to finish our work. Come on out, we have a party to start, people to meet, relaxation to relax to!" The voice was insistent, not whiny, not belligerent… persistent and calm, a constant reminder that Huu would not win an argument. It was as if Treize knew what to say to get him to listen. It was certainly disconcerting, this… need to get him to relax.
Huu knew, for all they would argue… he would end up listening anyway. Treize was persuasive like that. Treize and Joan… was he surrounding himself with people that refused to listen to his words? It seemed like it.
Still.
18 huh?
A few more months and he would be 19. He had died at 19, in his first life. An illness they had never diagnosed.
He had died at 19, in his second life. To a beam sabre through the cockpit amidst the ashes of Zeon's dream.
He wondered if he had 1 year left to live in his third life. Which meant that matters were urgent. He couldn't wait... but dammit if Treize wasn't persuasive.
Or perhaps stubborn. Maybe he was just stubborn, using sheer brute force to get him to comply. Like his mother had so many times prior.
Was that his weakness?
Bang bang bang.
The sound of metal on metal filled the cockpit as Treize, began to hammer on the hatch physically. Giving up on words.
Huu sighed.
Right.
He supposed he might as well enjoy an eighth month and a half late birthday party.
It was probably his last in this life, better make the most of it.
+Break+
August 13, 2990, Diboll, Federated Suns, Edgeward Combat Theatre, Draconis March, Bryceland PDZ
Treize Krushenada had been mildly disappointed, then intrigued.
This Huu Theburge had not recognised him. Which, if Treize was being honest, was a surprise. It wasn't like there was anyone on the planet or in the colonies that wouldn't recognise his face, not after he had become the leader of… well… everyone. Had led the Specials, had, himself been the poster-child of the Romefeller Foundation. Had become the ruler of Earth and the Colonies.
So, either this individual was a Mobile Suit designer of supreme excellence and had been designing the Leo on his own as a rather peculiar example of parallel convergence. Possible given he had designed a fusion reactor using different principles to those that were being used already in this reality. Unlikely given just how perfectly everything was replicated across realities. Even the start-up OS for the Leo.
Or… he was looking at someone who had been living under a rock, or perhaps, being charitable, a bunker under a rock. How else could he have the Leo's specifications so perfectly, but not know who he was?
Both options were thrown out the window when he discovered the Tallgeese plans. Combined with his social publications speaking of this Zeon, Federation and Contolism. Treize had come to a simple conclusion.
Huu Theburge was a fellow reincarnator.
One that had somehow been granted knowledge of the Tallgeese and the factors that decided its construction and design. How? Well, he wasn't exactly an expert on matters of reincarnation, so he wouldn't be able to tell you. Perhaps something was preparing the way for him? But, well, he was Treize Khushrenada, he would succeed regardless of his circumstances. So it was likely something else.
Huu was a reincarnator suffering through what could only be called, truly epic levels of Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder, Survivors Guilt, and a Messiah Complex. A rather complicated individual.
And really, he was sympathetic. The boy (older than himself right now) would change the galaxy given time. Yet, it would not happen if he died from stress, from a self-inflicted wound, or from a lack of meaningful human connections.
The self-proclaimed leader of soldiers had decided then to do his best to help this Huu Theburge. Someone to talk to, someone to bring a little innocuous fun to their lives, someone to confide with.
A friend.
It was driven, of course, by self-interest. But it was self-interest in helping out his newly nominated friend. Surrounding himself with excellent people was how he had gotten where he was. Huu didn't know that, of course, but he would come around. His honour demanded it.
That, and Treize had it on very good authority that he was a very likeable human being.
Which was why Huu was leaving the Agri-Leo. He really did like the way the people of this reality just… shortened the names of roles and stuck them onto objects. IndustrialMech, Battlemech. It made things so much easier. Whoever set that up had put in the brain work, that was for sure.
"What are we even going to be doing, Treize?" Huu let out a self defeated sigh. His eyes shadowed, exhaustion clinging to his frame like napalm to… everything. Which, really, just illustrated his point. Huu already had sycophants, had enemies, had doubters, had worshippers. Yet, did he have a friend? A Milliardo of his own, a Lady Une? Someone he could speak honestly with, someone that wasn't buoyed up or weighed down by expectations of pre-existing relationships?
The answer was no, hence why Treize had appointed himself to the role. He would help this self-destructive teenager out of the hole he was continuously digging for himself!
"Fun, Huu. We will be having-" He was cut off.
"Colonel Treize Khushrenada! I challenge you to a duel for the post of Colonel!" The voice rang out from behind.
Ah, another challenger! And at the worst time too.
He had gained the leadership of the Contolist Defence Force through challenging the then leader, to a duel. In their Mobile Suits. As the only one who knew how to operate the things, he had won handily.
Of course, as soon as he had done that, it had opened the door for everyone else to challenge him in the same manner.
But, really, couldn't they see he had more important matters to deal with? What kind of fool was this? Not expressing an ounce of chivalrous spirit.
An example would need to be made. He was usually rather accommodating of such duels, but really. This warranted a lesson. The matter of Huu Theburge was infinitely more important to him than that of this fool.
"As the challenged, I choose the weapons. Blades." His short answer was also sharp as the aforementioned blade he would be taking into this.
"Hah! You think I'm weak like those fools? I am knight of House Davion. I am a master of hand to hand and Battlemech combat! You are but a boy, 16 years old. And you seek to match me with blades? Ha! Come!" The boisterous idiot strode forth, his face so unremarkable that even Treize, who had remembered the faces of each and every one of his men who had died… found it hard to find an identifiable feature. Ah, the eyes. Muddy brown.
More useless boasting from the fool before they started the duel. Their blades retrieved, a space made for the two fighters. Treize with his rapier. The fool with a long sword. Standing opposite his opponent, Treize gave him a short bow of respect. His opponent doing the same. Yes, for all his lack of decorum and intelligence, he possessed enough chivalrous spirit to not make a mockery of himself.
Then they struck, the longsword kept close to the body, eyes narrowed. Someone who actually knew what he was doing, perhaps he wasn't boasting. A posture of aggression, ready to strike, feinting softly. Excellent bladework.
Treize had to compliment him, for all his lack of a brain to mouth filter, he was indeed capable with a blade. It was just too unfortunate that Treize was better.
With a straight lunge, and then a twist, he reacted with great skill. Skill that was his undoing, as Treize allowed their blades to become entangled. Dragging it and stepping back, the longsword flew out of the other man's hands.
The duel was over and it had not taken more than 10 minutes.
Enough time to work on his personal project, that of Huu. A part of him wanted to help another who understood what it was like to fight in Mobile Suits. The other, well, he wanted to see what kind of technology would emerge as a result of the youth. He was deadly excited, you might say.
So many questions for the future.
How would his Tallgeese II hold up against the new machines his new leader would come up with? Granted, he was going to need to get that started. He knew the processes for Gundanium, and... well, he had built the Epyon in his backyard. He could build a new Tallgeese, no problem. He did need to get into space first however. Yes, that was a slight problem he needed to handle.
When he finally built his steed, how would it fare in the realm of Minovsky reactors and the complications that came with those? The papers spoke of a fundamental change to the future of warfare if it proliferated.
Would mankind be able to find peace in the future after they had fought so hard that they evolved? Had the final battle truly brought about peace, or had he failed there as well?
Would he indeed meet Milliardo again as he had requested at the end?
Things were crazy enough that it looked possible indeed…
Two reincarnations already, that was two more than believable. Three was just expected now, wasn't it?
Ah, but those were concerns for future Treize. Current Treize was taking Huu Theburge out for a drink. As a Colonel he could bypass local drinking laws. Not that he would of course, his body was a temple... but he could order drinks for one Huu Theburge. Some relaxation, a chance to talk, to vent just slightly.
"Come on Huu, there's a cafe that just opened up outside the Leo factory. We can sit down, I can put some moonshine in your tea, and we can relax." An arm around Huu's shoulders, Treize, for all his young age, could still manhandle the shorter man around.
"And what if I don't want to drink?" Huu asked, voice still exhausted.
"Then we can sit and drink tea, and I'll keep watch when you inevitably fall asleep at the table." Treize laughed, it had happened three times so far. It was a good thing he was there to catch it, or Huu would have kept hiding it from those around him.
The infighting that the different intelligence agencies were performing, were really hampering their efforts to keep an eye on their so called subject. Their actions clear as daylight to the former head of OZ, who had deployed his own secret agents on occasion.
"I won't fall asleep!" Came the grumble.
The former ruler of known human space did not even dignify that with an answer.
It didn't really matter what they ended up doing, so long as it was relaxing for his still oblivious friend. The goal, after all, was to ease his mental burden, because that's what friends are for. To be there when you need them.
Just as he had been there to oppose Milliardo when he needed an opponent.
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Threadmarks 007. Aaron Sandoval and his different hats. New
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Tamarind
Sep 10, 2022
#681
Thanks to Praetor98 for beta-ing this chapter.
August 06, 2990, en-route to Diboll, Federated Suns, Edgeward Combat Theatre, Draconis March, Bryceland PDZ
Aaron Sandoval, Duke of Robinson, Minister of the Draconis March. March Lord some might say was looking forward to meeting this great visionary, Huu with great… expectations.
Huu Theburge, son of a DMI agent, visited by traumatic scenes as thanks to a likely exiled agent of the exiled SLDF, that had themselves descended into a blood orgy of violence, just like the Succession Wars.
A child that had been transformed by this and had taken his coping methods to some rather… worrying extremes. Specifically, his work in materials science, fusion science, and sociology. All to promote a cult, that, in turn, had the end goal of raising mankind into the stars, upon which they would find eternal peace by losing their physical forms and turning into spirits or something.
Sounded insane.
Then again, wasn't Christianity of the belief that once everyone died, they would lie in the ground until the end of days, when everyone would rise up into heaven? At least, that had been it originally, then it had evolved into everyone going to purgatory until they were cleansed of their sins, and then to hell or heaven.
Needless to say, it wasn't so far-fetched as far as religions go. That Newtypes possibly existed however? That was… well, that was a thumb on the scale.
The scale that said 'this is probably real'.
And so Sandoval had kept an open mind, it wasn't like this could be something they could handle… without issue. Religion just had that kind of an effect.
The practicalities however? Those he could handle.
As the Minister in charge of the defence of the realm against the Combine forces, the area had been under a state of war since the War Zone Actions Law was passed in 2787. Laws that governed the interaction of the AFFS and individual worlds, their rights and so on.
He had tremendous power, and as such, tremendous responsibility.
Coming to Diboll now, after he had been on New Avalon for a meeting of the High Council had been a rushed affair. The First Prince had provided him with information, that, in simple terms, had shaken up a great deal. The priority messaging routed to New Avalon as per his stay.
In practical terms, reviewing the factories, the Mobile Suit as a practical concept… and checking on Huu Theburge in his capacity as Minister. Oh, and to evaluate the changes that were happening because of this one individual.
Intelligence, technological, social… and so many other changes. All of which were under his jurisdiction as they related to the never ending war with the Draconis Combine. Further, the Economic War Powers Act, which made the trade of certain materials and research papers completely illegal… had been given an exemption. For the first time in history.
The publications were of such consequence that attempting to deny them would lead to incursions, covert and overt into the Bryceland PDZ that would make his job nigh impossible. Armies marching through the Skid Row worlds had that kind of an effect after all.
This was just the first of the matters that had been brought to his attention, the strategic concerns. The construction of a 'Mobile Suit' factory, the increasing privatised education delivered through a cult of all things. Both things that the First Prince had been trying to encourage among private enterprise for a long time. Beneficial to the Federated Suns really.
The biggest concern was Huu Theburge, the source of all this. Diagnosed by analysts back on New Avalon as dangerously unstable, if pseudo-stable due to his focus on the cult he had created. Someone that could, at any moment, crack under the strain that he had put himself under due to various issues.
One that should have found assistance… if not for the extremely poor education in the Skid Row Worlds. A poor education that had, in simple terms, meant that Madeleine Theburge knew that there was a problem with her son, but had no idea exactly what that issue was. Had nobody to get a diagnosis from as she travelled the border worlds for her assignments.
Had not known that he needed a psychologist, for, really, education upon said worlds had always been spotty at best, downright missing at worst. Specialist doctors? Even rarer. Trained as DMI if he understood this correctly, straight into direct action… and then communications. She lacked the training, the expertise to even know how to identify the issue. It was her colleague from Analysis that had been the first to raise the alarm. Granted, 'the boy is insane' wasn't a great diagnosis, but it was better than what they had prior.
If young Huu had been transferred to a Golden Five World or even a moderately prosperous one as a volunteer, the issue would have been identified, and he would have received treatment. Deciding to remain in the ROTC as a planetary militia reserve had the knock on effect of preventing effective diagnosis years ago. Instead, they were now running damage control on an issue that had been festering for 9 years. He, like the First Prince had cursed the Succession Wars upon learning of the issue and its cause.
The sheer damage it had done to their infrastructure, to their people… malnutrition was common, illiteracy was the norm, health issues of physical and mental natures overlooked. All because their schools, factories, farms, their everything had been sabotaged, destroyed, or simply raided… and then destroyed.
If Huu simply cracked under all that pressure, they could lose the most valuable mind that the Inner Sphere had ever possessed. And so, on his dropship were several psychologists dispatched from Gogh-Bukowski University of New Avalon. The premier university of the Arts on New Avalon. They had the help on hand and were willing to assist as the problem… and the individual involved became clear. He wasn't sure why an arts university was so well staffed with psychologists, but it was the best they could do on short notice.
Maximum priority had been provided and he was travelling through a pseudo-Command Circuit after the issues had been diagnosed as severe enough to warrant it by several unnamed sources.
But, the journey was still taking a significant amount of time, after all, New Avalon was 13 jumps away from Diboll. A journey of 95 days on a single Jumpship. The pseudo-Command Circuit had cut it down to 45 days, but that was still time he could spend doing something else.
Which he had. Time had been spent reading and notating the social commentaries that this Huu Theburge had written in truly gratuitous torrents. His works had gained credibility as knowledge of his Fusion Reactor experiment, and then production-line of said reactors spread through the Inner Sphere. So much so he was looking at works published by the Inter-Faith Council, publishers of the Unfinished Book. A merging of all religions into a single doctrine. Contolism appealed to them no doubt.
The Holy Order Press had also published his works on Contolism, entire books and dissertations. The third largest publisher of holy books had found fertile ground considering Interconnectedness Unlimited was their owner. Firm believers that everything in existence was connected together.
Not just them either, Gowers, New Avalon, and Robinson publishing had been working their way through the submitted backlog of his sociology works.
New Avalon University, University of Saso, and the Colleges of Savonburg were recipients of material science papers.
And finally, New Avalon Military Press and Robinson Military Press were recipients of what he was reading today. Military doctrine, musings, and more works. The latest of which was Mobile Suits and Warfare. As Minister of the Draconis March, he couldn't help but feel… shame when reading this comprehensive direction for a doctrine revolving around Mobile Suits.
It was not a purely military work, focused solely on detailing the ways that Mobile Suits would be used in battle. No, unlike the occasional works produced by the AFFS. Ones that assumed matters would continue, that it was a matter of simply using the available resources as efficiently as possible. Seemingly accepting that technological decline was the norm, and they had no other options.
Huu Theburge meanwhile, demonstrated his clear understanding of the world… and his deep abiding love of his fellow man.
A comprehensive rework of Federated Suns economic policies, education, laws, and society. All to create a well fed, well education, and populous society able to handle the conflict that was poverty. With a focus on defensive strength through the people, it was applicable on the Capellan March, Periphery Borders, or even the Draconis March.
Indeed, the actual military part of it featured very little in the work, the vast majority of the words were to establish a society in which Mobile Suits could be used effectively as warfighting tools. Creating a society where people had no material concerns because all were met. Oh, and one must not forget the Colonies. Moving people into vast Torus and Cylindrical colonies that could, themselves be moved under their own power. Ones that held their own factories and populations. Protection by evasion. Keeping their peoples, and their skills safe at all cost.
Vast orbital facilities that could be protected by Mobile Suits serving as both aerospace and battlemechs. That themselves could serve industrial roles if required.
Not content to leave it at that, he had established the first Leo factory, Eggshell Dropship, and all the associated equipment that went with such a design. Fusion reactors and torches included. The problems, the successes, the pitfalls, all relevant aspects of the construction process published. As were blueprints and methods, all kept under copyright… but still available for anyone to read. The process available if one was willing to spend money for the 'colony creation fund'.
In one fell swoop, he had provided a doctrine, and then provided a means by which to achieve it to the resource and technology starved Skid Row worlds. Ones that could, if their leaders had even a modicum of intelligence, begin construction immediately.
Even the issue of legal and noble reform had been addressed. If each Colony was administered by a Baron or Baroness under a colony Count or Countess… would that not prevent issues of authoritative conflict? A duke would then oversee the entire System by default instead of a single world.
Simple, effective, and would head off their problems before they became problems.
Duke Sandoval of Robinson could only marvel at the mind that had written such a work.
Minister of the Draconis March Sandoval felt creeping fear that this mind could be lost to them if he did not arrive on Diboll soon.
+Break+
August 30, 2990, Diboll, Federated Suns, Edgeward Combat Theatre, Draconis March, Bryceland PDZ
The Minister of the Draconis March watched the military exercises projected on holoprojectors front of him with great approval.
The Mobile Suits were still moving with extreme clumsiness… yet, the beginnings of a coherent force was evident. Their doctrine visible in how they moved less like Battlemechs, lone gods of war… but more like Armoured Fighting Vehicles, or even Infantry. Manoeuvring about the battlefield in their platoons to get to a position of advantage. Engaging simulated targets as a group, even having enormous shovels to dig fighting positions to huddle in groups.
For 7 ton Mech-lites, they were a rather terrifying force for anyone to have to face once they reached full capacity. 5 Mobile Suits for a platoon, 4 platoons for a company, 4 companies for a battalion, and so on past regiment, then division, and finally Army group level.
5, 20, 80, 320, 1280, 5120, 20480.
The break with AFFS tradition with square formations instead of triangle ones. Was simply explained that due to their role as purely defensive forces and did not require jumpships to move about… a reserve force in case of necessity was a good idea, even if it increased numbers and created possible tactical unresponsiveness.
It didn't matter all that much, as in terms of numbers. It would be able to overwhelm any threat with bodies and metal.
This Treize Khushrenada… he would need to keep an eye on him. Anyone that could marshal his raw, uneducated, and malnourished recruits as effectively as he could? His future potential was great indeed.
That being said, his real concern here was Huu Theburge. Watching these exercises with him in the local command bunker… more like shack, but needs must here in the Skid Row worlds.
The young man looking extraordinarily tense the entire time.
Which, really, was probably because of the militarisation of the Mobile Suits he had been so adamant in his early works were for industrial purposes. What caused a shift in his opinion, Sandoval did not know, but it was not sitting well with the young man. He had read his works, all of the major ones in preparation for this meeting. In doing so he had learned a great deal indeed. Who knew how a young man could come into contact with so many different aspects of human nature before his 20th birthday?
"I know that you wrote Mobile Suits should be used for peaceful purposes, and that this might be… shocking." He started out softly, drawing on his experiences as a father and wishing Jessica, his wife, mother to his children, love of his life were here to help him in these matters.
What he got in response was a shake of the head, "no, I've… come to… terms with the idea that I will be producing weapons of war. But Doctor Halsey says I should focus on what I can change, not what I cannot. And human nature is something that I cannot… yet" The Huu Theburge replied, still looking uncomfortable as he did so. He had heard the information, but was having great difficulty internalising it. Yet! Yet, he was taking it to heart!
Aaron resisted the urge to pump his fist.
Success! They had not been here long, but the therapy was working! Slightly, slowly, but it was breaking through to him! Every day, the chance that he did something… drastic lessened if this pace continued!
Granted… that last part was just a little bit concerning. But it was a slow process, and would take years, possibly decades, according to the reports provided to him. Initial progress was fast, but it would plateau and slow down. That was where the hard work began.
But that little concern would go away in time, he was sure of it!
"What is occupying your mind then, if you don't mind me asking." He said with courtesy he showed very few others. He would show others such courtesy as well… if they were able to completely change the strategic situation of the Federated Suns within a single year of practical results.
"What is occupying my mind, is that I'm contemplating steps forward." He tried not to clench his fist, was this a warning of something else?
"Do I continue with the Leo line and work on further designs for different roles… or do I continue with Minovsky physics until I can build a Minovsky reactor?" The young worry-making individual continued, unknowing of Aaron's increasing heart rate. And its decrease, the body relaxing at the words.
"What do you have in mind for the further roles? Perhaps they will be more useful now, than later?"
"The Aries… the closest analogue would be a LAM without an aerospace mode… able to fly indefinitely, but only in atmosphere. Very fragile, but useful in emergency response roles. The Tragos is a slower and more fragile version of the Leo, but can mount a hovercraft attachment for extreme speed and smooth movement on different terrain types." His eyes were glazed over as Aaron risked a glance, as if reading from something only he could see. Which, might be possible, perhaps it was visions or something, the whole supernatural aspect had everyone in the High Council particularly worried.
One could not shoot what one could not see after all. Still, the designs... yes, they would be incredibly useful if they were able to work as described. An indefinite loitering craft... and a fast, Battlemech armed, but transporting-capable hover-mech. Yes... he could see the uses.
"Minovsky reactors… once I start. There is no going back." Ah yes. He had read those papers as well, Minovsky particles, unproven at this moment in time… able to do things like scatter Electromagnetic Waves the long kind, the effect only increasing as they became more dense. Fogging visible light, defracting infra-red, rendering radar useless. Being able to obscure entire planets from large distances away, able to destroy unshielded electronics, rendering guidance systems on missiles useless… or so it said.
None of this had been proven, but if real.
Well… that was a concern that needed to be dealt with in his role as Minister of the Draconis March.
Perhaps it would be a good idea to set him on the simpler designs first… so he didn't end up causing something drastic by accident. Like destroying hospital equipment and murdering thousands. Something else for him to feel incredible guilt for.
No, it was better to start with the variants of the Leo, keep his mental health stable.
"I think… it would be a very good idea to go with the Aries… and the Tragos you called it? We do need flying vehicles and hover vehicles in the Border Worlds after all."
And so it went. Quiet conversation, trying to ensure the mental health of one Huu Theburge, so he could continue providing for the Federated Suns.
While also evaluating the Mobile Suit as a concept for the defence of the Federated Suns.
While also evaluating the factories that had been established… for the defence and development of the Federated Suns.
While he wasn't the one doing the actual evaluations, he was the one who had to review them before their submission to the First Prince. What he said, or didn't way, would have an impact on the lives of billions.
No pressure.
Not when it could change the Draconis March, and for the better at that. The work of his ancestors for centuries would bear fruit on this world and spread far beyond.
If only the damned SLDF didn't exist. He could take the fight to the Combine and end it all... but was now stuck... tentatively working with them. Under the assumption the returning SLDF would be worse than the Combine, which, really? Should not be possible.
But this was his reality and he would be reinforcing his worlds, just in case they smashed through the Combine. Or if the Combine decided they did not need to cooperate, and cooperation was for the weak, and tried to attack anyway.
Idiots.
Last edited: Yesterday at 10:21 AM
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