Fringe War Battletech Campaign

Zelski II, February 2875, Taurian Concordat Briefing Room, Location Undisclosed

“Don’t worry, Envoy Grevin, they’re only going in to determine resistance level and soften up any defenses,” Ivan droned, “Follow up in a couple of months and you can bring sufficient forces to bear to take the prize.”

He looked up at the hairy ambassador with watery eyes before slowly continuing. “Besides, they’re mercenaries, an expendable resource…”

The ambassador growled low in his throat. “What, exactly, do you get out of all of this? The fact that we’re meeting here suggests Comstar general command either doesn’t know, or is content to have you run this off-book. Either way, that’s a big bet for a mid-level drudge.”

Ivan’s affront almost appeared genuine. “Why, the greater good, of course! A strong periphery would make a competent ally for a change.”

The ambassador nodded, unconvinced, “Of course. All the same, I still want at least one pair of eyes onboard that dropship.”

“It’s already done, ambassador.” Ivan’s smile left Grevin cold, dark thoughts clouding his mind.

They should put a bullet in the back of his head before he ever reaches that planet.

Bridge of the Fortress Class Dropship Heart of Eden, October 2874

The old warhorse spoke gently, “Speak freely, Captain.”

“Colonel, I’ve got a bad feeling about this,” Captain Weitz complained, pacing back and forth in the small officer’s mess.

“You’re not alone, J. Off-book ops tend to be the kind with the highest casualty rate.” The Colonel sighed and looked at his electronic folio for the 10,000th time since the mission brief came through, and shook his head. “Are we in a position to say no?”

Exasperated, the Captain stopped short, his regulation boots making a slight squeak on the metal floor. “You know we’re not…we never are. But any op that promises to buy us out of debt, fill our hold with armor and actuators, and let us take on new Pilots and tonnage is just too good to be true. And really, full salvage outside of any facility? It just screams someone in over their head or lying through their teeth.”

“It’s your ship, Captain, I’ve never pushed you into something you weren’t comfortable with. I hear there are some great garrison duty slots on Holder’s Moon. It may even pay enough to cover your oxygen usage.” The older man chuckled. “But I’ve seen the SIGINT…there’s something there, even if its not what they’re saying. And we’ll place satellites when we get there…if you need to, we can trade the Heart for passage back. You’ll still have a place as a lance commander, at least as long as I’m alive.”

The captain steeled himself and sighed. “Alright…I’ll call them all in…at least the ones crazy enough to say yes…I’m not forcing anyone into this op.”

Blip…blip…blip…

What…is…that?  The young Comstar communications technician fiddled with some dials and pressed some buttons, assuming the stray signal was noise generated by a local quasar.  As he locked on and isolated it, a burst of data nearly burnt out his terminal…and then all was quiet.

Hesitantly, he called over Ivan, his wheezy supervisor.  Ivan’s eyes went wide as he scanned the data, and he inserted his data fob into Max’s terminal, downloading the files to his personal cache before deleting them from the young man’s device.  ‘Nothing for you to worry about…this never happened.’  A sense of menace came into the man’s watery gaze.  ‘Is that understood?’

‘Yes, sir,’ Max said, his voice quavering less than it might have.

__________________________________________________________________

Ivan stared at the data a long time, his mind swirling.  He referenced and cross-referenced against Comstar historical records and logs.  ‘It has to be,’ he muttered under his breath. 

He knew if he did this wrong, some busy-body bureaucrat would fumble the whole thing.  Checking his credit balance at Comstar bank, he pulled a crypto-rod from his supervisor’s safe.  Using one for personal reasons could put him in jail on a backwater mining colony for the rest of his life, but he knew how to fix the records so it would never be missed.

Inserting the rod that would make tracing of his transmission impossible, he spoke slowly and clearly into the microphone.

‘I’ve found something…need to meet…yes, you can invest…hire mercenary company…beyond the rim…Lostech…’