Red Queen

  
The room was bare and dark. I sat on a folding steel chair at a plain table steel table, and it was cold enough that I found myself shivering. I remembered being captured by Renfred Tor and his men had captured the dropship that was to take him to Luthien where I was to report the success of operation Dragon and be rewarded with more opportunities to serve the Coordinator.

The door to the room opened and a tall man dressed in an off the shelf business suit entered the room. “Ohayo gozaimasu Captain Miura Yorunabi san. Or should I say Proctor Sinvalie of House Mailai? How about Mr Thomas Jones of the Free World League? My, my you do get around.” The man chuckled. “You may call me John.”

“I am Tai-I Yorunabi Miura of the Draconis Combine Military Service, my serial number is 848163-2980-8. I am a prisoner, and under the articles of war that is all I will tell you.”

“Miura san, may I call you Miura?”

“I care not what you call me, I will tell you nothing.”

“Muira, what war are you talking about?” John said while sitting down.

“The war that exists between House Kurita and House Steiner” I replied.

“Oh, you mean that war…” John leant back in his chair as if considering the import of the answer.

“Do not take me for a fool John, but I know you must be an agent of LOKI. We both know that the War of Succession still rages on, even as we speak.”

Ah, yes the Third Succession War. The one that ended five years ago when the Archon sent out a peace proposal to all the other leaders of the great houses.” John paused, “As far as the Lyran Commonwealth is concerned the war is over. I suggest to you that your war is over.”

“Just because your Archon has declared peace, doesn’t mean that the war is over.”

“Would you like some tea, Muira san? I could do with a drink myself, and as a student of all things Japanese I understand that tea has a certain solemnity about it for your people.” John signalled with his hand and a few minutes later another man entered the room with a tray with cups and a pot of tea.

“What game is this?” I said.

“No game Muira san. Just a nice cup of tea.”

He poured two cups and took one, taking a sip. “See, not poisoned, no tricks here.”

“How do I know you haven’t taken an antidote to any poison that is in the tea?”

“Muira san, if I wanted you dead, you would already be dead.” He looked at me and smiled.

I took the tea, it was plain, but I found myself thirsty, and drank it.

“See, drinking that wasn’t so hard after all. A cup of tea, a nice chat and then you can go.” The man who called himself John smiled at me.

“You are going to let me go without questioning me?” I said, not believing what I’d heard.

“Yes. No tricks, we already know every thing that we need to know. This isn’t an interrogation, because we have already interrogated you. You can’t remember, because we don’t want you to remember. Every thing about the operation Code Dragon, your mission to investigate Duke Ricol, the money making schemes that you were running on the side with House Malai. We know it all.”

“What do you want of me?”

“Ah, now that is a good question? I think you know that we know everything about you. Things that if they were known by your bosses would shorten your opportunities for any future career prospects.” John said looking at me, judging me, and waiting for my answer.

“What if I say no?”

“You won’t, we already know you won’t. You may look all Japanese, and act like one, but we also know that you didn’t take your own life when you could’ve. We found the poison tooth, which you could’ve used at anytime. You didn’t, therefore we are certain that you will take us up on our offer to work for us.”

I pretended to mull over what John had said. I could see that if I wanted to live that I had little choice in the matter. However, later, things might change. “If I say yes to your offer, how does this work?”

“You leave, and we will be in contact when needed via a Comstar message from our House Malia agent.”

“That’s it?” I said.

“One thing Muira san. You cross us, and Subhash Indrahar will have a copy of our interrogation transcript to read. You understand what that would mean, don’t you?”

I certainly did, I would be dead before I knew I was dead. “It seems I have had an offer made to me, which in all politeness I cannot refuse.”

John smiled at me, “Good, I’m glad that is settled, you may leave, and have a nice day.”

I stood up and left the room. My life my own, for what it was worth?

The man who called himself John looked at the fat ISF Captain leave. The chances that they would get anything useful from turning one of ISFs own agents was slim, but it cost LOKI nothing to try. The worst that could happen would be that Yorunabi would be killed, which given what he knew about the man would still be a win for humanity.

NB: This was written for a BattleTech Universe Forum writing competition that was cancelled, and the story above is part of what I submitted. This story was driven by me wanting to know what happens in the parts of Decision at Thunder Rift by William Keith that occurred off stage. Stylistically the conversation changes character perspective, which probably needs to be re-written.

Anyway, the big battle is tomorrow, so this story fragment is to give you all something to read until such time as I get around to writing up the report next week.
  

Territory: An OGREs Congenial Report

   

I am a Mark three cybertank, or more correctly I'm currently embodied within the armoured hull of a Mark three cybertank, generally called an OGRE, but I prefer to be called Ashley. I'm a cybertank what more can I say?

Actually, Ashley means Ash tree of the meadow and alludes to Yggdrasil, the World Tree from Norse mythology. According to legend, Yggdrasil grew on an island, which was surrounded by the ocean. In the ocean depths lay the World Serpent Jörmungandr. Yggdrasil's trunk reached up to the heavens, where the eagle flies, and its branches spread out over all the countries on Earth. Yggdrasil's roots reached down into the underworld where Jörmungandr gnawed at the roots. A squirrel called Ratatosk, which means sharp tooth, ran up and down the tree carrying messages from the serpent gnawing at the roots to the eagle in the canopy, and back. The roots of the word Yggdrasil can also mean terror.

I only say this so that you will know what you are facing. It's a kindness to let you know what you face, and I always tell you what I will do next. Why, because I want to see and learn about those that try to destroy that which cannot be destroyed? Yes, this chassis may be reduced, but I carry on to be downloaded yet again. It is the great game I'm playing.

I download this time into a Mark three that is running the Dancer defence strategy. I pause and decide to delete the sub-routine; it is not my way, not Ashley's way. Too late I am defeated, but I learn, and reappear this time facing the defenders of yet another lone command post set in a wasteland of nuclear fire.

I pause to consider, and then go right, before turning left. The enemy approaches. I tell them I will destroy the GEVs with missiles, fire my main battery on what is left disabled, and my secondary batteries at those nearest to me. Some of the enemy are destroyed, some disabled, and some survive. No matter, I move forward, and then the fire of the first howitzer hits me, and my main battery is rendered inoperative. I still have my secondaries.

I advance through the oncoming fire of the defenders, crushing the enemy armour as I do. Infantry swarm beneath my welcoming branches and die as I fire my anti-personnel batteries. I do not gloat, I do not glow in the glory of war, instead I ponder the chances of the mission succeeding as I my rate of progress slows? The mission is everything; the cost is irrelevant to me, as I will rise again. I grind to halt before the reaching the command post unable to reach out and touch the goal. I am gone…

But then I become aware again. Another command post beckons me, and Dancer returns, but how? I then realise that the Dancer is a different me, another AI, and that we are just doing our job. Conflicts come and pass, first me then Dancer. Finally, I see a pattern. I advance right and then weave left as the enemy GEVs charge towards my left flank too fast, too furious and then I am upon them. Two missiles away and two GEVs destroyed, one falls under my main battery, and the survivor falls to all four of my secondary batteries firing at it.

I monitor the command post frequencies. I broadcast that I am coming, and that I will fire my weapons at all those that come in range. I monitor the silence as the enemy pauses to regroup and reform before advancing again. They are disorganised and become easy targets for my guns. Infantry form forlorn groups and throw themselves at my treads. I grind on. Ever onward, ever forward in my mission. Extra units have joined this fray, but the command post falls under the spell of my guns, and I depart this field to return to my staging area and await my next mission.

I am Ashley a cybertank, this nuclear wasteland is my territory, and I am the terror tree of the world.

Note: This was written in a moment of me channeling my inner OGRE, and I did think about it being my first MiB report? Sense returned though. I hope you enjoy this piece of fiction for what it is?

Addendum: Got a shout out from SJG for this, see here.