Turn 7
Alessandro Steiner, Archon of the Lyran Commonwealth glared at the screen in front of him.
"How did I not know about this man until now?" He asked the head of the LIC, Julian Soult.
The man looked back at him with a placid gaze, "sire, the report on him is in your in-tray for the next briefing."
Alessandro nodded, looked down and poked around in the in-tray.
There we go.
He gave it a quick flick through with his eyes and hands.
"What the hell is this? 24 years old, served in Tetersen Militia, parents deceased, owner of Utility Corporation, produced machines. Where is the rest of it? Don't tell me this is all you have?" The Archon, head of the Commonwealth, akin to a god to the peons below him flung the papers onto his desk.
"Sire. It's been one year and four month since he started his project. Typically a new factory takes at least ten years before it starts production, fifteen on average. We have not had time to infiltrate his production process in the same manner as is standard." Julian replied, voice not changing its pitch at all.
Alessandro glared at hi before shaking his head.
"There's a reason I like you Soult, it's because you're so damned calm I can't get mad at you!"
Soult merely nodded at him.
"In any case! I need to know more about this man. Who is he, what makes him tick, why does he get up in the morning. This man is changing my realm Soult. I need to know if it is for the better or if this man is a spy par exa-lonce." Alessandro continued, waving his arms in the general direction of the door.
Turn 9
"Aurelius came to me, did you know that Soult? Came to me and had me approve the requisition of designs for the Griffin and the Commando. Sent it to a no-name production company. Then I hear it's the same one that you're meant to be investigating. He's built himself Commandos, Griffins, and Eagles there Soult. It's been 2 months and he's already got more factories! what are the results of your investigation?" He asked Soult.
"We have agents on the ground sire. He is who he says that he is. It is actually quite remarkable sire. The man cannot dissemble for his life. What he says he is, is what he is." Soult repeated the phrase, as if it would do something to lessen the irritation that Alessandro felt.
"So you mean to tell me that he actually is an industrialist who decided one day to start producing equipment to sell to everyone for no discernable reason?"
"Yes sire. As unlikely as it is, we cannot find any external parties, communications, accounts, or even new neighbours that may have influenced his decision. The Norns have not been able to identify any electronic communications that he had sent outside of Tetersen that have not been for the purpose of industrial production. No ciphers or coded speak. The man is who he says he is." Soult replied evenly.
Alessandro narrowed his eyes.
"Then why?"
"All communications indicate that he is a patriot sire. He wishes to assist the Commonwealth in her fight against the Combine. His production is assist this endeavour alongside another person of interest."
The LIC head pointed at a file marked 'Alexander Slim', the cover displaying a squat and rugged face, what one might call a brick wall with a protruding chin and wide forehead.
"Oh? He wants to take the fight to the Combine does he?" Alessandro asked, his eyes raising themselves up in surprise. Pleasant surprise.
"That certainly does sound excellent. Why haven't I heard about this before? I would have been less harsh on you if I had known!"
Soult's gaze remained placid as he answered, "it was in his file sire."
Alessandro waved his hand.
"Semantics. In any case, he wants to take the fight to the Combine? Tell me about this Alexander Slim!"
"Yes sire. The man is in charge of the Triple V Mercenary Unit. In reality it is a House Unit under House Randolph of Tetersen. They mainly operate in the region to keep Tetersen safe."
Alessandro snorted at that, Soult merely nodded. There mere idea that anything within one jump of Tharkad needed to be kept safe was ridiculous.
"Since he has taken charge, the Triple Vs have focused their efforts on developing their capabilities to counter the Combine. Utility Corporation has been working with him to provide the machines to assist in their effort."
"Haha, then we don't need to worry about his loyalty to the Commonwealth. The man wants to punish the snakes, then why shouldn't we help with that? What LIC efforts do we have in the area? Task them, I need more!" Alessandro nearly shouted, euphoric in the idea that someone else was willing to take the fight to the enemies of the Commonwealth instead of waiting for them in a hole somewhere.
Turn 11
"Well then Soult, who is this?" Alessandro asked, Archon of the Commonwealth, master of all that he saw.
"This is Bernard Banderson. Head of the Bureau of Statistics." Soult introduced, placid as ever.
"Bernard. What is the problem? Nobody ever comes to me when they have solutions, only problems I swear!" Alessandro sighed as he sat behind his great desk and felt the urge to rage at the unfair world. He was sure that Hohiro never had to worry about things like this. Seriously, why was it that he had so many things to worry about?
"Sire. I am here to report on an issue regarding the emergency audit that was conducted by the Bureau of Statistics into the matter of lacking industrial innovation in the Commonwealth." Said the man that was as equally boring as Soult.
Alessandro was feeling better already.
"Yes sire. The work of Graf Vu of the Utility Corporation has seen the construction of 51 Jumpship Slipways. In questioning the reason for this unprecedented development, we discovered that there had been a significant lapse in the innovation and development budgets of the corporations of the Commonwealth. I am here to present my report to you, my Archon."
Alessandro nodded, thinking it was just a game that the Bureaucrats were playing against each other before his mind retraced its steps and double checked the numbers.
51 Jumpships?
"51 Jumpships?"
"Yes sire. 51 Jumpships. They are Primitive, but they can be produced in 4.5 Months. 20 Light Year Range."
"20 Light Years… that's enough to reach most of the Commonwealth. Tell me more."
Alessandro sat back and listened as the man talked to him about the new DC3 Jumpships. Jumpships that could traverse most of the Commonwealth without issue, that could, if he really pressed for it, ensure that the Commonwealth would once again have a strong interior supply line and allow him to regain the offensive momentum that the Commonwealth needed.
His deep raid in 2987 had been great, sure, but it was just a raid.
Imagine what he could do with a proper invasion force!
A proper line of supply?
There was so much that he could do!
"That is why I am proposing a one time levy on the corporations to provide the funding for more jumpship production from the Consortium."
Alessandro tuned in at the end and nodded.
"Acceptable. So be it, if they don't want to innovate, they will pay the ones who will." He said simply.
There was another pause.
"There is also the matter of Lockheed/CBM sire. There has been significant… discrepancies with their books along with information that they have contact with non-Commonwealth individuals and payments to such. We would request a more… direct intervention." Bernard continued as he turned his head to look at Soult.
Ah, that was why the man was here.
Well, sure, why not.
The commoners could always use more taxes.
The corporations could always use more examples of why one should not betray the realm.
Let the bureaucrats deal with each other, he had a war to plan.
"Soult, deal with it."
The man nodded with a, "yes sire" and all was well.
"Oh, and get me someone from the Heraldry Department would you? Get this Graf Vu made a Duke. If he's a Graf then all the other Grafs are going to feel above their station and we can't have that. The man's done more for the Commonwealth than most of them have in their lifetimes I am sure."
Alessandro waved them off, he had more important things to deal with.
Make the man a duke, sign the paperwork and the decree that someone else would write for him and he didn't need to worry any more after that.
+Break+
To be a Door Kicker was to be part of a very elite and special group of individuals.
Or, so the saying went
When one was in the presence of the Molehunters and Lohengrin at the same time, these thoughts did not surface, especially when one had to consider that they were a small fish in a big pond if all they could do was kick down doors.
It wasn't enough to just be a Door Kicker, one had to be a hundred other things if they wanted to hold their heads up high with the illustrious company that they were in.
Mitchell Muller was one such individual in his mind.
Part of Lohengrin, he was the counter-terrorism expert in this small cadre.
The Molehunters were the special counter-espionage experts, but they weren't Door Kickers. What they were, well, they were specialists in data recovery, at least these ones were.
They were quiet, his team and the Molehunters because something very strange was occurring before their eyes.
An accountant was standing in front of them.
An accountant was going to present to them.
A first.
"Good afternoon. I am Jorgan Jorganson." The room snorted at the highly unconvincing cover name.
"I know it sounds like a cover name, but please understand that Jorgan Jorganson is actually my name." The room stopped laughing.
Right, that was unprofessional.
"You are here today to carry out a raid on the property of one Urech Speer. Board Member of Lockheed/CBM and suspected of embezzlement to the tune of over 100 million Kroner. Enough, you could say, to build multiple wings of aerospace fighters to assist our ground troops at the front. Instead the money has gone into his pockets."
There was a hiss at this, the men and women in the room were not frontline troops, yes, but the mere idea that someone was lining their pockets while good Lyrans died on the front was abhorrent. It was what they were here to prevent, it was literally in their job description (somewhere).
"The property's blueprints have been taken from file when he had it built 5 years ago. The raid will coincide with an audit time arriving onto Lockheed/CBM premises in 1 week. Please be ready before then." The accountant finished before stepping off the podium before them.
They were stopped when one of his women called out, "and what will you be doing in all of this?"
The accountant turned around and smiled, "I will be going in with you to analyse the good mister Speer's computers and records in person. Just in case he has a failsafe."
Well now, he could respect that he could.
"You heard the man. Let's have a look at the kill house and prepare ourselves. The man's going to have his own security, we don't know what new additions he's got to the property. Get moving, we don't have much time to get the information we need. Someone get the Norns on the horn, they've got some digging to do." Mitchell called out to his men, standing up and patting the one next to him on the shoulder.
"It's time to get paid!"
+Break+
Mitchell watched as his team ran the kill house, the Molehunters keeping themselves low and unobtrusive as they did so. Making sure to keep their heads and bodies low to avoid getting in the line of a barrel.
The Lohengrin team, as befitting their status as the best in the Commonwealth moves like a well oiled machine.
"Breaching!"
"Clear!"
"Corners!"
The calls came out as he watched the replay on the monitor, the rest of the team watching their own performance with critical eyes.
"I'm seeing a lack of, how you say it, jen-e-si-qa?" The accountant remarked, looking at the volume at which his team was shouting, the way they were kicking in the doors, and especially the seemingly long time that they were taking to do so.
"This is how it is in real life. None of that action movie shit of moving into a room silently like ghosts or something. We're in a high stress, low latency environment. Anything that causes us to pause and think will get us killed. We do the callouts and the pauses to make sure everything is ready and we all know what's going to happen next. That way we can get into a room, clear it, and anything not in parameters will die. It's also so you and the Molehunters know what is going on and don't get in the way." Mitchell replied, carefully not replying to the fake French that Jorgan was in the habit of using.
He was 90% sure the man was doing it to rile them up.
For what purpose he had no idea.
"So what are we looking for Jorgan?" He asked, the team's first run of the kill house being dissected by his men and women as they watched the recording, the Molehunters offering their own expertise when prompted in the background.
He meanwhile, wanted to know what was so important that the accountant was willing to tag along and possibly get himself killed.
It had to be especially important.
"The issue with embezzlement Hauptmann, is that the money has to go somewhere. 100 million Kroner on its own is a problem. 100 million Kroner embezzled is an even bigger problem. It can't be spent normally or there would be investigations and whistleblowers. Instead this happened for years and could have continued for years. Nothing has changed in the life of one Mister Speer. Thus, that money has to have gone somewhere. The idea of money being unaccounted for in the economy is an offensive one to the Bureau of Statistics Hauptmann. We will find that money, and depending on our results… we may have to call in your team again." The accountant's eyes had a mad gleam to them.
Mitchell felt the urge to lean away and resisted it.
Fanatics came in all stripes and all flavours.
This was just his first time experiencing a bureaucratic fanatic.
"Okay guys, run the kill house again!" He shouted, taking the chance to distance himself from the accountant, they would do this perfectly.
They only got one chance to corner the guy before he fled.
Then judgement.
Traitors to the realm deserved one thing. A bullet to the skull.
But before the sentence was carried out, information had to be extracted to make sure that all the traitors had been caught in one go.
+Break+
Hauptmann Mitchell of Lohengrin took in a deep breath.
They were standing outside of the mansion of one Utrech Speer.
The other teams were ready to breach from all 4 of the cardinal directions for maximum coverage, but that meant that there was a chance that someone might take a bullet in the face from a friendly. They needed to be completely switched on for this, or there were going to be casualties.
He took another deep breath.
"All teams sound off."
"Blue."
"Green."
"Red."
"Yellow."
"Magenta."
"Cardinal." He finished it off.
Right, looked like they were all here then.
As the mission to storm the mansion on Tharkad been been reviewed, he made the decision to call in 4 more teams. They just didn't have the manpower to take on something of that size without a high chance of the Urech making an escape. The 5th team, a sniper squad was split between the four directions to make sure that anyone escaping either took a laser to the skull, or a medium-mech laser mounted on an infantry support mount to the faceplate.
And if that didn't work, a detachment of the 1st Royal Guards were on standby to lend heavy firepower to the operation.
With the cameras to the outside spliced by the Molehunters, the mission was ready to start.
Mitchell took another deep breath.
His eyes narrowed.
"Initiate." He whispered.
And all at once the need for silence vanished as the front door of the mansion, two heavy Tharkad oak doors were blown off their hinges and split in half by a shaped charge running their width.
Those inside only had a few moments to appear shocked before they were hit with pepper rounds from paint guns wielded by his pointman.
Mitchell held an actual laser rifle in his hands to deal with those that didn't realise that staying down was for your health in this situation.
The team moved in, calling out their actions with every change, like indicating when driving. All the better to let those around you know what you were doing and to adjust their actions accordingly.
The lobby was cleared.
The screams of those with pepper in their eyes was silenced.
The receptionists were subdued.
Apparently they were just civilians.
The rest of them were going to be tougher, but these ones deserved a chance to surrender.
It's not like they were actively participating in the deaths of Lyran soldiers on the frontline.
Unless they were, in which case they would die.
He moved to stand alongside the next wall, the secure BAR 10 door ready to hold firm against any breaching charge.
Stupid.
Something a lot of people forget is that if the door is strong, then go around.
Why make something strong if you don't make the entire structure strong?
The plans said reinforced concrete, so shaped cutting charges it was.
With the charges already in place next to said door, around the very much weaker concrete, the half of the team going into the left room with Mitchell readied themselves. Unlike the reception area there weren't windows, he didn't know what was in the room.
The plans had said it was a smaller reception room for higher tier guests.
It was now time to put all their training, that which separated them from everyone else holding a gun, to the test.
"Breaching Left Room!" He called out, tapping the puller on the shoulder while a second shout of, "Breaching Right Room," filled his ears.
Then there was the sound of a future concussion as the charge went off. The flash bang grenades went in, then the team rushed forward.
Bodies, rifles, shooting to kill.
"Shot two left!"
The laser rifle didn't bark or kick like a projectile weapon, it just hissed slightly as it cooled, the rapidly expanding boiling blood on the target's faces and necks causing ruptures in flesh and skin.
What was previously a contiguous expanse of skin was now hanging on by mere threads of muscle and bone.
The targets dropped to the floor.
"Shot one right!"
"Shot one mid!"
"Clear front!"
"Clear left corner!"
"Clear right corner!"
"Clear behind bar!"
The calls came in as his men cleared out the entire room, checking every corner and calling it out as they went. Leaving behind them flashing lights to indicate that it had been cleared if they needed to double back.
Then came the next room, his rifle up to his shoulder and he went in again, the bodies flashing in his mind as they were analysed with the speed of muscle memory.
Those without weapons survived.
Those with them died.
Their faces quickly moving through a memorised list of 'keep alive' faces that they had been briefed on before the mission started. Wife, Kids, Urech, Maid, Accountant, Butler. Those were the ones that needed to live. The rest, not so much.
And so they moved, his mind moving at the speed of lightning as nerve impulses moved up and down his spine to his brain and fingers
Decisions to take a life happening so fast that his own brain didn't have time to register it before he moved onto the next target.
His muscles so ingrained with the knowledge of how to take a life that they just did, only held back by the same muscle memory of what his team looked like and the sounds coming in that indicated that specific areas were safe and he shouldn't engage there.
All of this swirling maelstrom of knowledge only being held in check by the fact that he had trained his body and mind to perfection.
His brain largely operating on autopilot, his mouth moving to shout commands, directions, and actions. It would only be later that he would have time to think on what he had done and why.
"Breaching." His words spread to the team as they moved in to the last room, the fellow Lohengrin teams to the side acknowledging him with a nod and a wave before they moved on to their own objectives.
"Bang." The flashbangs went in.
"Left corner." Rifle swept left, behind the door.
"Middle." Rifle covered the corpses and bodies on the floor.
"Right corner." Rifle swept right, behind the door, "covering downstairs," down the stairs.
"Upstairs covering." Rifle held up to the stairs and railing just in case someone decided to be brave.
The team moved and called, Mitchell taking up the rear.
"Don't shoot! Please! Don't shoot!" The voice of a man filled his ears.
Mitchell paid it barely any mind, his focus on the rear.
"Cuffs."
"Got a captive. Match for eldest son. Prepping for transport."
The boy… no, young man was hogtied, arms cuffed, legs cuffed, then both cuffed together. The writhing body left there as the team moved on. Acknowledgements for the follow up team echoed in their ears as they proceeded.
Into another maze of rooms, their bodies moving via muscle memory from the countless hours of kill house practice.
"Breaching."
"Breaching."
Then.
"Cleared. All objectives met. Teams check-in." Mitchell called out.
"Green All Good."
"Blue All Good."
"Yellow Maximum Good."
"Magenta Youngling Good."
"Red Serving Good."
He nodded.
Well, Maximum meant that Speer was found and secured, the children were secured, and the key staff were secured. A successful operation.
"Well now. That's interesting isn't it?" Mitchell felt the haze of combat fade from his mind, enough that he could pay attention to the words of Jorgan.
"What is it?" He asked, turning to the man who was tapping away at a device in the middle of the head office.
The office where Speer did his work apparently.
Given the state of the room, he wouldn't in the future. Especially with the corpses staining the carpet.
"There is a list of transactions here that are of extreme interest. The fact that I do not personally recognise these corporations on the other hand, well, there is something to investigate further." His voice promised wroth and ruin.
"What's the problem Jorgan?" He asked, motioning for his 2IC to check in with the men to make sure that there weren't any injuries of a major nature. Scratches and scrapes from the breaching and the speed were expected, but if any man were shot and had been hiding it, he wanted to know.
"I know every corporation within the Commonwealth that can handle transfers of more than 500,000 Kroner. That I recognise none of these means that there is someone or multiple someones inside of the Commonwealth playing games with shell companies. Someone that will be very interested to meet your team I think."
Ah. Internal corruption, likely noble or politician involvement, maybe even the Blood Royals.
That was going to be fun wasn't it?
Not the first time that they had gotten involved in something they shouldn't, but, well, he was a bit old to be looking over his shoulder every time he turned a corner wasn't he?
Palace intrigue was going to be a problem.
"Alternatively, it means that a specific group that the Bureau has had an eye on is playing some very foolish games with the Commonwealth and will need to be reminded of their place." Jorgan muttered before waving over one of the Molehunters.
"What have you got?" He asked.
"I stopped the verification check before we got into the room. Otherwise the thing would have dumped the logs and data somewhere about 5000 kilometres south of us judging from the IP address. We've got all the time in the world."
Jorgan nodded.
"And the address?"
"Sent it up the chain like you told me to. Think someone is going to get an unpleasant knock on the door in a few minutes."
Jorgan nodded again.
"Good work today. We secured an enemy against the realm and uncovered more threats to the realm. And, as we all know, a threat in the light is a threat we can deal with." He murmured.
Mitchell just shrugged, it wasn't like it was his job to worry about that. He was a Door Kicker today.
He kicked in doors.
"Jorganson. Found something you might want to see." Another Molehunter called out urgently, waving them over to the device she was standing in front of.
"Mmmm?"
"Most recent transactions into Speer's accounts, the secret ones. From Krupp Armament Works. Wouldn't have bothered me previously, but there's 1 million C-Bills here and some kind of receipt that I'm 90% sure is code." She said as they stood behind her.
"Krupp is based on Terra. The fact that he was paid in C-Bills… and the Norns very definitely did not inform me of a Terra connection…" Jorgan mused to himself out loud.
"Just checked the Terra links. Got Ford Military Limited here. Martinson Armaments, New Earth Trading Company, O'Neil Yards… and just checked. None of them are present on the Norn's list." A Molehunter spoke up, tapping away at the screen in front of them.
"So instead of sending money out, they're sending money in through physical channels to prevent the Norns from listening in to them. Physical movement of money is not something that Speer would need to worry about if he was legitimate. There is something wrong in the town of Terra." Jorgan repled.
Mitchell tried to bleach his brain, he didn't need to hear this!
Terra, C-Bills, mastery of communications technology?
He did not need the implication in his life!
The implication of Comstar being involved was very much not what he wanted to hear about right now!
Especially since, as someone already 'read in on it' he would be volunteered to do the op.
Comstar Ops were the worst.
First the kidnap, then the debrief, then ROM hunt and counterhunt, then the shooting, then the cleanup, then the retaliations, ugh.
After he had debriefed and destressed, but no right now!
"Well then, I think we are going to need to have a chat with a few of the Comstar acolytes. We'll be especially accomodating." Jorgan said, his eyes narrowing.
Fuck.