Mirrorsmoke Company
- Chapter 32 -[]
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30 minutes before the summit...[]
Albany City
New Oslo, Draconis Combine
March, 3019
"Let's keep the story straight. While Eagle is keeping Mirrorsmoke busy."
They were in a dressing room, an array of costumes and props filled the room like the wardrobe of a very spoiled heiress. With no seating in the area, Rolf immediately began to lean on a nearby table made to adjust the clothes that accompanied them.
"Is this room clean?" Howard asked. Dust had accumulated in the room from years of disuse, and while it had been somewhat cleaned recently, the air was rather dry for his comfort. Rolf knew however, that that was not what he asked.
"As well it could be," he answered, swiveling his head at the colors and expensive stitching around him. "Eagle has swept these rooms three times, each with different men. Trusted men. It's as bug free as it gets."
"And the story?"
Rolf drew a sharp breath. "Expect to be drilled about Mirrorsmoke. It's all they ever want to talk about. They'll ask you, incessantly, about where they actually come from. Just give the nobles what the children have told us."
The old man huffed. "If you can even believe what they say. Hajime Taki found a cache."
"Hajime Taki found a cache," Rolf repeated, nodding his head. "It's likely the closest thing to honesty we'll get from Watcher. Besides, the man himself practically said as much in his address before he disappeared. It's how these children have been trained, how they all have advanced equipment. Prototype BattleMechs, even. I believe it."
Howard's brows raised. "You and I remember differently. He didn't confirm any of that."
"But he didn't deny it either." Rolf shrugged. "And besides, getting anything more from Mirrorsmoke about their toys might as well be as if you're talking to a body."
"Anything else?"
They then discussed what more to expect. That the chaos still happening outside of Albany wasn't going away anytime soon, and that had made some of the nobles both grow bolder, or shrivel away at the fighting outside their door.
That was something they could exploit.
The goal here was to gain legitimacy. Fast. With the total disappearance of the Governor-General, leadership on the side of the Combine had fractured significantly. Oslogard would need control of major portions of the planet if they were to have any chance at surviving the Sword of Light. A sanction from a majority of the Kuge would provide them with that leeway.
"There's no need to sway them with words," he explained. "It's far too late for trite rhetoric. There is only one outcome of this entire ordeal; the Coordinator will strike back. We need to ease this to them. Don't turn this into a panic."
"Very well. Any news from the rest of the district?" Howard asked.
Were they alone, was what Rolf heard.
"So far, nothing," he answered. Perhaps a little too quickly. "Shrike has been monitoring traffic from our neighbors. She's about given up; it's dead quiet."
"That's what I thought."
"Honestly, I'm more worried about our uninvited guests," Rolf said, pivoting the conversation. Even he didn't want to linger in that discussion. "Never met that boy before. I recognize Hound, but not the one with the black hair. He's new and I don't like that."
Mirrorsmoke so far had been pulling surprise after surprise out of nowhere. A new face was yet another headache forming, another landmine to take into account.
He had only seen the boy briefly, but already he could tell he wasn't going to enjoy the moment when they would meet.
"I know him, unfortunately," Howard said, sighing. "He's their little talker."
Rolf's gaze narrowed. Then this was deliberate. Some sort of specialization within their ranks, perhaps? "Surely you know this has a purpose to it all?"
"I don't doubt it," Howard said. "This is a probe. I don't know what they're aiming for, but it's in the crowd. I'm sure of it."
Wetworks. The first thing that came to his mind. The thought of it happening right in the middle of the summit made Rolf ill. He could understand the price of rebellion, the blood spilled in the name of freedom. He could even claim to have spilled his own, when he had been a prisoner once.
"Do we have a contingency?" Rolf asked, despite knowing the futility of it. As underhanded as Mirrorsmoke was, they had never been one to kill or harm indiscriminately.
He was no righteous man. Perhaps his days in the Combine had taught him of living honestly, or the distant dreams of a free Rasalhague had turned him into an idealist, but never could he fathom the depth of the work these children have made in the shadows. All for the cause, at that. That this progress, this momentum they had gained were from children so eager to throw themselves to the deep.
"A little too late to ask that they vacate the premises," Howard murmured. "I'd have suggested Eagle to distract them, but that would only last for so long. Heron?"
Rolf shook his head. "Not here. Heron says he's indisposed at the moment, unfortunately."
He could never be proud of what they had become, never celebrate what innocence they had sacrificed for all this. Couldn't even be grateful for the road they've paved. To Rolf that was a sin too heavy to bear. He could do nothing but try to harden his heart at the consequences of their indifference.
He failed, every waking moment.
He glanced at his watch. He could no longer afford any more stray thoughts. "Tonight will be very long, Lord Langstrom," Rolf said, sighing. "I'm honestly glad you're here as well."
The old man simply nodded. "I'll suffer with you, but I have a feeling it will be a very eventful night as well."
"On that, we agree."
The Summit[]
[18:47] LOCAL TIME
Rolf was not blind to the danger around him. Or was it paranoia? Any moment now, a lone zealot or a sanctioned hit from the ISF could turn the theater into a bloodbath, killing whatever momentum that Oslogard was amassing.
And ISF indeed was watching, slowly uncoiling the rope they were going to hang all seven hundred men and women in the room. It mattered little even if the security of his fellow nobles were vetted, or the other little precautions made to keep themselves safe would let them see the next sunrise, it was only a matter of time.
A lot of these people will disappear in the coming weeks.
Beside him sat Howard, patiently weathering the storm of questions wrapped in barbs and fear, patiently answering and rebuffing every attempt at steering the discussions to the children who invited themselves in, and to instead focus on the inevitable apocalypse waiting at their door.
The only hope they had of surviving was the walking scandal strutting around the stage as if she owned it.
The same woman that just allowed Mirrorsmoke a platform to speak.
"Lords and ladies of the court, it is a great privilege to be able to address you all here. My name isn't important. I believe you know who I represent so I won't bother with the introductions. Instead, I propose a solution to all of our–"
"We don't want your solutions."
The voice cut through the chamber like a sword draw–sharp enough to cut the boy's introduction dead.
Rolf recognized the man, though his name escapes him. One of the many leaders who chose their side the night of the attack. Of the many camps within their newly founded Oslogard, there were many who were eager to take the fight to their former masters. Some however, only did so out of honor, that Hajime Taki's terrible atrocities had gone too far to be ignored.
This newly appointed kapten was one such man. While now free, he was still born from the teachings of the Samurais and Bushido.
Howard had a different reaction, his gaze narrowing to a sharp edge. The kapten met the old man's gaze, before tilting his head forwards slightly.
The soldier then rose, brushing the sleeves of his kimono as if he wanted to sweep the boy off of his presence.
"You represent nothing but chaos," he said, voice still calm, without so much an ounce of insult thrown their way. But it was clear he wanted a fight. "I have known the Governor-General long enough to see the ploy, the poisoned blade. I want these children out of the building, Precentor. They're only here to see which one of us they need to kill to further whatever goals they're planning."
Murmurs rippled. No one stopped him. No one wanted to.
Howard leaned closer to him. "We need to shut him up," he whispered. "Don't let him gain momentum. I'll deal with him later."
Rolf rose to intercept, all the while dreading that Mirrorsmoke didn't even bother to refute the claim. He was too old for the tricks, growing more grey strands of hair knowing that they always had a ploy.
He'd been about to open his mouth, before another voice joined. They'd found another reason to bicker. "Let the real leaders speak. Enough of this play-acting. Enough of Taki's orphans, I'm beginning to grow tired of the same questions."
"And who are you to stand there and watch over us like an equal–or worse–our betters? Know your place, boy," said another.
"For all we know, they could be here to spy on us for Hajime Taki!"
More and more flooded in, now having something to throw their ire at.
"What can a bunch of kids and rebels do against the Sword of Light?" said a man belonging to the Ministry of the Treasury.
"This is doomed from the start!" a woman shouted. From her garb, Ministry of Justice.
"They should not be here!"
The boy on the balcony didn't so much as flinch. "You know him well, my lord?" he asked, snarling. "Then tell me–where is he now, where is Hajime Taki? I'll tell you where–hiding! Scheming, like all snakes!"
More people stirred. Murmurs echoed in the theater like a simmering wave.
His voice rose to a growl. "And yet here you all are, rats in a sinking ship!"
The whispers turned into an explosion.
"Order! Order!" Precentor Sunniva demanded, not quite at a yell, but loud regardless. "Let us all calm ourselves, lords."
Some of the nobles slowly backed down, unwilling to even meet the woman's gaze. But those who didn't listen grew even bolder, almost baring their teeth at a challenge that wasn't there. Rolf inwardly groaned. What could this have been anything other than a bait?
The boy on the balcony waved his hands like a conductor, pointing at the growing tide of yelling men and women.
"You're all twiddling your thumbs, waiting for someone else to take charge!" he shouted. "I'm here to tell you, there is no help coming! It's all on us!"
Rolf quickly remembered an aspect about moots back in the day. They were loud. Messy. Those who had the largest set of lungs almost always were the first to be heard. All pathos. Speeches that stirred the hearts; pumped your blood hot. Nothing at all like the doublespeak and veiled meanings in Kuritan proceedings.
At this point, Rolf could do nothing but join them. He could not let Mirrorsmoke sweep all of them up at their pace. "And Oslogard will stand," he said. His voice rose. "Lords and ladies, without the governor, we all represent a free New Oslo! There is a way out of this. We must only join together–"
"Join together, or die alone," the boy declared grimly, not bothering to ease these people into it. "The Dragon won't just come for the rebels, they'll find the moderates as well. There's no more room to be neutral here, not anymore. You think your titles will save you? The Coordinator won't care if you're loyal or just cautious. We'll all burn the same."
Like a fire rising, more and more of the people joined the uproar. With the right words aimed at unspoken fears, Mirrorsmoke's representative eagerly and deftly stoked the crowd. Those who were already on their side shouted their support.
Whether out of fear from the Coordinator's response, or the inevitability of the cause–whatever the reason–gone was the calm and quiet composure from the Kuge, replaced with this mob forming in the theater, desperately looking for answers. Precentor Sunniva looked to us, an unreadable expression on her face. She should have looked up instead–the theater already had.
The boy might as well have just awoken the viking in them all.
"Join together, or die alone!" Rolf repeated. The momentum they had stolen from the kapten had been successfully redirected. His instinct would tell him to slow all of it down. Get them all to listen. But the message had already been made. He simply sat down.
Time to watch everybody set off the landmine that Mirrorsmoke was planting.
Howard leaned closer to him. There was a smirk on his face. "I seem to remember you saying something about trite rhetoric?"
Rolf matched the smile. It didn't quite reach up his eyes. "Nothing about this is trite, I'll argue."
He could no longer settle being careful, that was his mistake. Time and again had shown that diplomacy and caution loses its voice in the presence of Mirrorsmoke. He must accept now–these were not children, but soldiers.
Howard grunted. "Oslogard will stand," he repeated. "My men will be ready."
"Good, because now we have to deal with the fallout of whatever it is they're planning."
"As usual," said both of them.
Threats or ultimatums[]
Logan was in his element. And by that, I meant that he was really good at pissing people off.
"In the interest of good faith, and in exchange for your sanction, Mirrorsmoke is willing to part with the location of a sizable cache from the Governor's experimental stores. It was the last thing we had stolen from the man. The copy of a memory core, and from what my own people have gleaned, likely was the source of all his technological edge."
"Trap set. Let's see if she bites."
That got everybody standing in uproar, even our allies at Oslogard.
RABBIT HOLE was out of an old story from Terra, where if you dig somewhere deep down, you'd end up somewhere strange. Our mission here was to plant as many false leads as possible, in a wide and public enough place, to keep our true origins–especially of our tech–that much harder to pinpoint.
Logan's secondary objective was to eliminate any interference from the planet's clandestine organizations, chiefly Comstar and the Combine's. The goal was so convoluted and was layered in so many ways, that I considered this entire operation to be the magnum opus of his paranoia.
I could do nothing but sit there as the audience started to boil–clamoring, then screaming for us to elaborate, their voices rising to the point that they might even be running up the stairs to try and bust down the doors of our room. My legs were rapidly tapping under the chair, preparing to have to fight our way out if it ever came to that.
I couldn't help it. "Logan, one of these days your bullshitting is going to bite us in the ass, I swear. You better have a contingency ready. If what you've briefed us is true, these ROM people are going to be all over this like locusts on a wheatfield."
Or worse, the rest of the Inner Sphere would come knocking.
"Which is why this cannot leave New Oslo," he said, subvocally. "I'll make sure of it. I'd set off a greywash payload at their HPG before I'll ever let even a whisper of this slip out of the planet."
The Precentor tried in vain to keep everyone on their seat, but every eye in the theater was now on us. Try as she might, not even a long pair of legs were going to turn heads from what we were offering.
That was, until somebody began to tap on a wine glass.
Our heads turned across the other side of the theater, where a man sat proudly alone, metal tapping on crystal like an alarm bell ringing. He was of Nordic descent, but he wore the power and arrogance you'd expect from the average Combine noble.
When all noise quieted down, he rose, brushing the sleeves of his kimono like he wanted to sweep it off of Logan's presence.
The man stood tall, his back straight with practiced ease, a man used to being obeyed the moment he opened his mouth. From the cut of his kimono and his gilded mon, even I could tell this wasn't just any uppity noble.
"Aksel Engeberg," Logan said, ID'ing the man. "Board member. Real high up in the chain, at least locally."
"Board member of what?" I asked.
"Gorton, Kingsley, and Thorpe Enterprises."
There was a sudden lump in my throat. "Oh crap…"
Everyone and their mother knew the giant GKT letters everywhere on the planet. Maybe even the sole reason why New Oslo was on the map.
The sole manufacturers of the Panther 'Mech.
The man didn't smile. He didn't need to.
"So. Even the terrorists have taught themselves to speak like diplomats," Engeberg said, letting the scathing words hang long enough to sting. Everyone else didn't dare speak on our behalf. They just gawked. "Tell me, child. What is it you truly want? All of this noise, these theatrics–what's the ask, really?"
Logan didn't flinch. He leaned forward, rested his arms on the edge of the balcony, and I swear I must have heard the metal railings whine slightly from his grip. He then gave a small smile. Not the polite kind, or with the innocent and wide eyed kind, either. Just… measured. Calculated.
He spread his arms. "Finally!" he said snarkily to the rest of the crowd. "Someone who wants to get to the point!"
Logan didn't allow the man to cut in. "You want the truth?" he asked, still snarking. "Your fellow nobles have expressed their worries about the logistics of this little rebellion. Questions about metal, ammunition, BattleMechs. I have a solution for that, as I was about to tell them a few minutes ago before I got interrupted."
"Excuse me?" Engeberg's voice didn't rise–it dropped. There was a hard edge to his features. He just stood there, as if his own body was questioning if he just got shot.
"We're going to raid the GKT factory, my lord," Logan said, bluntly. "Your factory."
This time, rather than another uproar, a stunned silence gripped the theater, the weight of my brother's words pressing down like a physical force. Even had me dropping my jaw.
This was not part of the plan.
The nobles, even old man Langstrom and Mister Ossler in the distance, just sat in their chairs frozen, their expressions a mix of barely controlled shock and intrigue. The tension in the air was palpable, like a taut wire stretched to its limit.
The man's gaze widened, but his jaw was tightening. I saw him take one step forward, gripping the railing of his balcony in order to hide the trembling in his hands.
"You presume too much, young man," he said, his voice may be low and slow to try and hide the fear, but it carried with it the unmistakable edge of authority regardless. "Do you truly believe that threatening the lifeblood of New Oslo will endear you to this assembly?"
Logan met his gaze unflinchingly. "Well, we all know where your allegiances lie, my lord. While the rest of us clamor for some semblance of order as the rest of the planet burns, here you are..."
A murmur rippled through the audience, the initial shock giving way to a cacophony of voices, some in agreement, others in quiet outrage. The Precentor stamped her feet, trying to get us to look at her.
"...The Governor-General is gone. We need options."
"This is… unprecedented."
"...This isn't a bluff. I've seen first hand what they've done to the city when they set their sights on it…"
"Enough!" she declared, her voice cutting through the lethal tension. For some weird reason, there was fear plastered over her features, looking back and forth to us and the Oslogard. "This is not the place for threats or ultimatums! If Mirrorsmoke has a proposal, let it be presented formally. Otherwise, I suggest we adjourn before this assembly descends into actual violence."
The room fell silent once again, all eyes turning to my brother. He nodded slowly, the hint of a smile playing at the corners of his mouth.
It was too late. The lines were now drawn.
"Of course," Logan said. "My apologies for my eagerness."
Lord Engeberg said nothing, merely turning his back on all of us to rush out of the room. He didn't run. But I swear, I saw the fear catch up to him at the door.
Unprepared for the Events to Come[]
"Logan, we're not equipped for a siege," I said, gripping him by the shoulder. "We're not ready for any sort of direct action like this!"
We were alone, walking down a long hallway leading down to the rest of the people. It was the perfect time to talk. At this point, I didn't care about any prying ears or bugs hidden in the walls. I wasn't just going to risk my kids like this.
"We won't be alone," he started. "Oslogard–"
"I don't care about Oslogard!" I cut in, putting a finger to his chest. "We'd get slaughtered just trying to get past those walls, you know this!"
My mind whirled, trying to find some way through those defenses. I came up woefully short. I wasn't confident even if Logan fielded all the fireteams; not with the advanced warning he just gave the bastard. With his station, he could move just about every battle ready contingent from whatever was left of the Outriders, not to mention the corporate security in his payroll.
I wouldn't even be surprised if he had mercenaries ready.
I could see it now. Two or maybe three battalions just mowing us all down through sheer numbers alone. However much of a prodigy Logan was with his fancy tricks and tactics, this was all suicide.
Logan in turn just laughed in my face. If I wasn't wearing my sling, I would have punched him for that.
"Relax," he said, still keeping a smug look. "It was a fake out. We're not doing anything to the factory."
"What?" I mouthed.
"You saw the guy," he said, subvocally. "He was practically scared shitless. He took us seriously, and now he's going to ask for every favor he can think of to get that factory reinforced as much as possible. That means lots of soldiers moving around."
"What the hell was all that for, then?" I asked. "We had the op set up, and all we had to do was wait! You've just put RABBIT HOLE in danger."
Logan just shrugged. "I'll get Jon to take over the Comstar bait," he said. "This is a more pressing opportunity. We can always make the metal ourselves, Dav. I could outfit Oslogard with three regiments worth of Battlemechs if I want to. What we need is an excuse; a credible area where we can pretend to source the materiel that the nobles want."
I blinked. "So why provoke the man?"
Then it hit me. Logan did it to shuffle the board. There was already a place where there were tons of equipment the Combine had stashed for a rainy day, and he just made it significantly easier to plunder.
The hidden Nordmarka cache. It's been so long since the starport attack that I'd almost forgotten the place existed.
It must have shown on my face, because he continued, groaning. "Now I have to sell this idea to the old man and Mister Ossler. In person. After what they just saw? That's not going to be fun."