BattleTech Legends: Fortress Republic: A Dark Age Novel by Loren L. Coleman

Author:Loren L. Coleman [Coleman, Loren L.]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Publisher: Catalyst Game Labs

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JARMAN CITY

NEW HESSEN

FEDERATED SUNS

Nothing had yet gone right on New Hessen.

Caleb’s DropShip had taken fire from a squadron of Republic aerospace fighters during atmospheric insertion, leading to a harrowing few moments as Captain Marti cut engines and dropped in a desperate freefall, then hit the crew and complement with three G’s heavy burn to make up for it.

Sterling McKenna’s covering flight ran the Republic pilots off, and a Major Thom Oakley did eventually transmit a “most sincere apology,” but not before Caleb spent several excruciating moments plastered to his stateroom bunk: his heart laboring, every joint bruised from the stress, and wondering if he were about to die. Major Oakely is on my list to find out how far a “most sincere apology” flies with the First Prince of the Federated Suns!

Then, to make matters worse, local control had brought Caleb down in Weldon Port instead of Jarman City, necessitating a lift-off burn and a second landing (also without fanfare!). And another day lost.

Poor intelligence on the ground. No one certain of exactly what units from the Confederation or the Republic were at hand. A broken chain of command. The local lord sequestered at an undisclosed location. It took a summary order from his “lord, prince, and master” to force the man back to his estates where he could receive Caleb properly.

Two cities burning thanks to collateral damage taking out a petroleum refinery in one case. A crashed Claymore in another.

And the local weeds had Caleb hacking hard enough to bruise his lungs.

“What do you call that…that filth!”

The door had hardly closed behind them: Caleb and Sterling McKenna, Brevet-Colonel Mark Hedges, Lord David Faust, all standing around the drawing room on Faust’s Jarman City estate. Caleb wheezed deep as the filtered, air-conditioned room relieved him of the terrible cough and sinus squeeze that had pained him since leaving the First Sun. His breath came back slowly. His eyes still watered, though, as if not yet believing relief was at hand.

He caught Faust gesturing toward a seating area, where two suede couches faced each other over a low table. The steward of New Hessen was whipcord thin, with brown, almond-shaped eyes set in a round face. His black, oiled mustaches were weighted at each end by a tiny silver bead.

“Black creeper,” the noble said easily. No doubt used to the question. “It is like Terran kudzu, pervasive. It constantly sloughs off its outer husk, like snakeskin, growing and spreading and rotting all at the same time. You are also here during its flowering season.”

“You should slash-burn it out of existence,” was Caleb’s opinion.

“Oh, we’ve tried, Highness. Believe me, we’ve tried. Fortunately, it does not thrive away from New Hessen’s white sun and greenhouse atmosphere. So as far as we know, it has not spread to other worlds.”

If it could, Caleb had an answer for the military-industrial machine. Forget BattleMechs. Seed planets with black creeper, and the population would move out, clearing the way for an easy invasion.

Of course, that did not solve the problem of what to do once his forces seized control of the world.

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